Decade of Turmoil: Reflections on Armenia and the Armenians
Consul General Armen Baibourtian, right, and Prof. Dickran
Kouymjian
By Dickran Kouymjian
Archbishop Vatche, Very Reverend Mushegh, Father Raphael, Reverend
Minassian, Mr. Consul General and Mrs. Baibourtian, distinguished clergy
and guests, ladies and gentlemen. What a wonderful occasion! Many of us
have mixed memories of getting a visa for Armenia, arriving at the Soviet
Consulate in San Francisco or another city to get a visa for Armenia, wondering
if the FBI was photographing us from the building across the street, or
if we would get in trouble with the American government for traveling there.
Now it a simple formality conducted between members of the same family.
Surely this is part of today's celebration.
Today's banquet should inspire us to reflect on Armenia and the Armenians,
homeland and diaspora, citizenship, responsibility, and above all history,
the historical context of our lives, the lives of our parents and grandparents,
and of future generations of Armenians. So much has happened to Armenians
in recent years that even we, a people who have always respected history
and interpreted our lives in historical terms, cannot assess fully the
meaning of what has passed. It is at moments such as this, when we come
together to commemorate and celebrate, that we offer ourselves the excuse
to look at the past in larger terms.
I think back a decade ago to those relatively tranquil days of June
1987 in Armenia when I was finishing my term as a Fulbright professor in
the Department of Foreign Languages and Literatures at Erevan State University.
The call by Mikhail Gorbatchov for restructuring and transparency, perestroïka
and glasnost, had already caused a stir in Armenia. A major petition
had been circulating with hundreds of thousands of signatures asking for
the union of Karabagh to Armenia; the ecology movement was expanding, reflecting
the general concern in the population about the nuclear plant at Medsamour
and the pollution from the large Naïrit chemical complex in Erevan
itself; and growing nationalism in institutions like the Matenadaran, the
Writers Union, and especially among university students were contributing
to a major debate about Armenian leadership and the control of the country
and various unions by a small elite.
The stagnation of the Brezhnev period, denounced in the Soviet Union,
was still felt in Armenia through the First Secretary of the Communist
Party, Garen Demirjian and the crony system he supported, but open criticism
was rampant and signs that things were changing included the resignation
of Vartkes Petrossian as head of the powerful Writers Union, caused in
part by the protest against his most recent novel, The Bloody Shirt,
by the students of the Polytechnic University, who were alarmed by its
suggestion of dialogue with the Turks. But I emphasize, in Armenia during
the summer of 1987 things were still calm, "normal" in the language
of those days.
However, in the fall everything seemed to accelerate. The ecology and
Karabagh movements got intertwined and in early 1988 engendered a series
of ever larger, but peaceful, demonstrations, which confused Moscow, astonished
the world, and even surprised Armenians by their solidarity, clarity of
purpose, and determination. Who could have imagined the outcome would have
been the barbarous pogroms of Sumga¥t and Baku precipitating a mass
exodus of populations and leading to war. Who can forget the betrayal of
Armenian hopes by a Gorbatchov who refused to accept the consequences of
the very "transparency" and "restructuring" he so aggressively
initiated, a leader who could not or would not take the necessary decisions
to stop the killing and referee an honest settlement between Azerbaijan
and the Armenians over Karabagh, and who finally tricked the Armenian people
through its own intellectuals into stopping the protests, into putting
an end to the greatest popular, anti-government movement in the history
of the Soviet Union.
Martial law was declared and Soviet tanks occupied Armenia's capital.
Then at the very end of that year 1988, the earthquake struck, unexpected
and violent, merciless in its effect on the body and spirit of a nation
just as it was collectively doing everything it could to show that through
a united effort truth and justice could be made to prevail. Gorbatchov
himself, the architect of the future down-sizing of the Russian Empire,
came from the UN in New York to Erevan. But Armenians greeted him shouting
"Karabaghe mern *!" and the great Communist leader was taken
aback by a people who, in the throes of tragedy and death, refused to forget
that Karabagh was theirs. Working with local KGB agents, who had things
carefully planned, Gorbatchov quickly had all the members of the Karabagh
Committee, Armenia's hope for a new future, arrested and imprisoned in
Moscow in the worst manner of Soviet totalitarianism. Catastrophe, trauma,
war, death -- Armenia was devastated and occupied by Soviet tanks. There
was war in Karabagh and a total blockade of the country. The nation's elected
leadership was discredited, the people's leaders in prison. What difficult
and uncertain days they were. But time never stopped.
Soon there were renewed proposals for a compromise on Karabagh; due
to the pressure of western governments, the members of the Karabagh Committee
were released and allowed to return to Armenia. There were parliamentary
elections and Karabagh Committee representatives were swept into office.
Levon Ter Petrossian was elected president of the Parliament. Finally,
there was the dramatic dissolution of the Soviet Union undertaken fearlessly
by a naive Gorbatchov, and, in the following year, 1991, the declaration
of Armenian independence. Levon Ter Petrossian was swept into office as
the Republic of Armenia's first democratically and popularly elected president.
Quickly the new Armenian Republic accepted the legacy of the old First
Republic of 1918 and adopted its symbols: the Tricolor flag and the national
anthem.
Armenian, however, continued to suffer war, a massive blockade, lack
of power, fuel, food, even fear that together Azerbaijan and Turkey would
overrun it while the Great Powers stood by. With Russian complicity, much
of Karabagh fell to the Azeris. Finally, unexpectedly, the Armenians of
Karabagh captured Shushi and the Lachin corridor: a clear victory by the
embattled underdog and the turning of the tide. More conquests followed,
leading to a cease-fire in May 1994. Armenians could at last settled down
to the simple every day miseries of survival, penury, darkness and cold,
unemployment, and inflation, but also attend to rebuilding and looking
to the future of an impoverished, but independent and democratic, country.
Throughout all of this we contributed in our way to the transformation
and stabilization of Armenia. Numerous aid organizations were established,
many continue to provide humanitarian help; the American University of
Armenia was founded with the help of the University of California and the
vision and energy of American Armenians, particularly Mihran Aghbabian
and Louise Simone; joint ventures were started; and help was generously
given to put the medical and health sector on a sound basis. We witnessed
the proliferation of Armenian Embassies and Consulates around the world,
like the one in Los Angeles whose second anniversary we are celebrating
today. We rejoiced in the leadership and friendship of young and competent
Armenian diplomats: Shugarian, Arzoumanian, Nanagulian, Ter Ghevondian,
Sarkissian, and our own Armen Baibourtian.
Today, as Armenians we must remain vigilant, mostly against our own
complacency and arrogance. Nation building, as we have found out, is immensely
difficult. For many new countries it has proved almost impossible. Even
for Armenia we have all remarked at the regression in many sectors of life.
But we have avoided civil war, when, during the same years other former
Communist states, unfortunately could not: Yugoslavia for example, or closer
to home, Armenia's neighbors, Georgia and Azerbaijan experienced disruption
and devastation through internal conflict. Was Armenia saved from civil
war because of good leadership? Surely in part, yes, though all of us can
think of moments of poor leadership. Was it saved because of luck? In part,
yes, even though Armenians think of themselves as a particularly unlucky
people with massacre, genocide, and earthquake only part of the tragic
side of their own twentieth century legacy.
Now at the end of the second year of the history of the Armenian Consulate
in Southern California, the third year of cease-fire in the Karabagh, the
six year of the Republic of Armenia, the seventh year of self-rule, and
the tenth year of the transformation of the Armenian nation, we must look
ahead with specific notions and ideas. What has been hardest for all of
us, Armenians in Armenia and Armenians in the diaspora, is the giving up
of our old dreams. How comfortable we were in our vision for the future
when Armenia was still a "dependent" state, lacking the ability
to decide for itself. How glorious the future independent and democratic
Armenia would be, we thought, constructed in our minds in the most perfect
manner we could imagine with our democratic notions of liberty, equality,
fraternity. How sure we were that when self-determination came, Armenians
would be united in purpose and outlook, that the country would prosper
through diligence and intelligence, and quickly become the Switzerland
of the Caucasus. Little of this has yet to come true, and so many have
become disillusioned. But such great ideals are seldom fully realized by
any nation, at any time. Man, unlike any other species, is able to formulate
plans and ideals, and is inspired by the struggle to achieve them. This
is the human spirit and it is surely the Armenian spirit. In the midst
of an imperfect reality we must still hold on to the idea of a perfectible
one.
The recent elections in Armenia have taught the Armenians in the homeland,
something that Armenians in the democratic west have know for a long time.
Despite everything, through elections, that is through the peaceful exertion
of constitutional rights, a country can change its leadership or put pressure
on the leadership to respect its wishes. Armenia now has a political system
that is the envy of most post-Soviet Republics precisely because of the
hotly contested election. There is a strong opposition and the process
of alternation that we are so used to in the United States, with Democrats
following Republicans, is surely to follow in Armenia if Armenia is to
develop into a normal democratic nation.
The experience has matured Armenians. Change can occur through non-violent
means and though many of us fear change because we have gotten used to
the system as it is, we have also learned how easy it is to adjust to change.
Let us not forget that for many Armenians His Holiness Karekin I, Catholicos
of All Armenians, was regarded not too long ago as an agent of a political
party, and a threat to the Armenian nation, whereas now those same Armenians
herald him as the champion of a revived spirituality in the church and
nation. The lesson here is for Armenians to be careful and open to other
Armenians who appear to have a different vision than their own, because
inevitably one day it will be the turn of others to administer. In a healthy
nation, everyone must feel enfranchised and useful. In a democracy, opposition
parties serve to control the excesses of those in power. We have seen this
over and again in the United States, France, even young countries like
Israel. Armenia has been fortunate in having a president, who, I believe
despite everything, understands this very well. We, too, must constantly
remind ourselves of this reality.
We have also seen in recent months a new flexibility in the attitude
of Armenia toward the diaspora. As diasporan Armenians, we too have understood
that what we thought should happen so easily and naturally in terms of
diasporan-Armenian relations is in fact very complicated. Fear is a terrible
thing and Armenians in the homeland have lived under fear. But as fear
declines through accomplishment and empowerment, self- confidence rises.
With self-confidence people feel less threatened; they become more open.
This is precisely what is happening in Armenian-Diasporan relations. And
at occasions such as this it is our duty to note that.
Ten years of momentous history are behind us. Have mistakes been made?
Yes, by us and by Armenia's leadership. The more interesting question is:
Who has not made a mistake? Have we learned from these mistakes? Yes. Have
we corrected our errors? Only in part and slowly. Will we make the same
mistakes again? Yes, as surely as we are human. Is this in part because
of ignorance, selfishness, self interest, laziness, and fear of change?
Most certainly!
Armenia has survived civil conflict. In Erevan there is a stable government.
Dialogue has reopened. The people in Armenia now understand democracy better
and see that through elections, parties can be voted out of power. There
is an opposition that can rally close to half the vote, creating something
close to the party system in the United States. There is talk of compromise
again. Furthermore, a change of government took place and new faces have
appeared. The relationship with the diaspora is becoming one of closer
ties and better understanding on both parts. The mistakes are becoming
history and slowly Armenia and Armenians are trying to learn how not to
repeat them.
In time others will be entrusted with the burden of caring for the
country; new figures will come to the fore. New heroes will replace those
of yesterday. Former enemies will become friends. New parties will try
their turn at governing and with some luck Armenia will strengthen its
democratic institutions step by step, with minimal conflict, and without
blood shed.
We have come together today in secular communion with Armenia, distant
geographically, but so close spiritually. It is not enough for us just
to look back at history and record how it happened in these past two or
six or ten years. Rather should we not also, each of us, ask and re-ask
ourselves the question: What is my relationship to Armenia? What does the
homeland expect of me? What do I expect from it?
And should not such questions lead immediately to the more creative
ones: What should Armenia expect of me? What should I expect of it? And
is not the answer to both questions simply that Armenians living on the
land and we leaving with the spirit of the land want to know that "we"
and "they" can speak to each other, that there exists a "we"
and a "they" who listen to and understand each other.
Through such inquiry and reflection, I believe it is certain that the
relationship between the diaspora and Armenia, the "we" and the
"they," will evolve into a permanent dialogue between the "we"
and the "we".
