InternationalWar in Georgia, vulnerability in Armenia
Collapse of the Soviet Union was the biggest deception of the 20th Century
Published: Saturday August 30, 2008 in Living in Armenia
Lining up for gas in Yerevan. Photolure
It has finally happened. I knew the day would come. I had fooled myself into believing that I would be able to manage the impending and inevitable crisis. Although my personal history had not prepared me, I believed I would have the fortitude of character to withstand the difficulties, the uncertainties. I now understand that I am ill-equipped on every possible human level to do so. I now understand what it means to live in a landlocked country which is under a blockade by two of its four neighbors.
Although I have written many times before about the difficulties of life in Armenia, I have always tried to find humor and humanity in them. The events of March 1 knocked the wind out of me, yet I still clung to the hope that we would be able to reinvent ourselves and rebuild the shattered hopes and dreams of so many.
Today Armenia is not at war. The gates to Karabakh are tightly locked and remain impenetrable thanks to the young men who guard our borders. Armenia still has a president, although some are still trying to make sure he vacates that position ahead of schedule. The government apparatus continues to operate. Schools will be reopening in a few days. Tourists are still visiting ancient Armenian monuments.
The military conflict between Georgia and Russia did not spill into Armenian territory; Armenia was affected by it in every other sense, however.
Two weeks ago we decided to go to Lake Sevan for a few days with another family visiting from Canada. We loaded up the cars and headed out. On the outskirts of Yerevan, there is a gas station where we always stop to refuel. It is owned by Gagik Tsarukian, president of the political party Prosperous Armenia, president of the Armenian Olympic Federation, entrepreneur extraordinaire, philanthropist, and for all accounts and purposes one of Armenia's most influential oligarchs. We drove into the gas station only to be waved away by the gas attendent. Initially we didn't understand what he meant, but then he ran up to us and said, "Benzyn chunenk" (We don't have gas). I thought to myself that if Gagik Tsarukian doesn't have gas then something's not right.
It was odd but we drove out and pulled into the next gas station. Again the same statement. The next gas station. Again, no gas. We called our friends who had driven ahead of us not to wait because all the gas stations refused to refuel our car. We turned around and drove back toward the city. There was silence as we all realized that something in our lives had suddenly and drastically changed. Armenia's vulnerability became glaringly apparent, even to my teenaged children.
We finally found a gas station that had gas, but they would only give us 10 liters (2.64 gallons) and no more. As my husband tried for several minutes to cajole the young gas attendant, who was no more than 18 years old, into giving us more, my son said, "Dad, meghk e." We finally agreed to the 10 litres but told him we would drive away and come back in a few minutes to get another 10 litres. After that, we drove and found two other gas stations that were rationing gas and we headed back toward Lake Sevan.
One thing was clear: because of the Georgian-Russian war, something that had nothing to do with us, we would be facing days and weeks, perhaps months, of uncertainty.
For the past four days we have not been able to refuel our cars. Most gas stations have signs posted that read, Benzyn chka, No Gas. Other stations are open are only giving gas to people who have [prepaid corporate] "checks." In other words, only state and company cars can refuel. The rest of us who have gasoline-fueled cars are left with no fuel. Our cars are now sitting in our garage, their gas tanks empty. I have been taking a taxi, which operates on propane, to work. Almost all taxis and many private cars are equipped with propane tanks. Thus, there are still cars on the road, but the rest of us are left without personal means of transportation.
And now Russia has recognized the independence of Abkhazia and South Ossetia, throwing an already tenuous situation in the Caucasus into total chaos. Europe and the United States have come out with strong statements against Russian agression, supposedly protecting Georgian statehood and territorial integrity. How far they are willing to go remains elusive. Roads are closed, railway lines have been bombed, including the port of Poti through which the vast majority of Armenian goods flow to our landlocked country.
A few days ago a spokesperson for the Ministry of Transport and Communications said that 310 wagons loaded with Armenian goods that had been sitting on railtracks due to the bombing of a bridge on the Gori-Tiblisi section which is the main link with Armenia - of which 177 were filled wheat, 123 with various goods, and 10 with fuel - had finally made its way into Armenia. According to the ministry, 3,000 tons of wheat and 3,800 tons of gas for Armenia are in the port of Poti, which continues to be inoperable. According to authorities it will take approximately one month to repair and restore that section of the bridge. Armenian authorities have sent engineers and specialists to help speed up the process.
The situation raises a very simple yet fundamental question. Why was Armenia not better prepared? Why did we not have enough reserves of fuel and flour, two basic commodities that are essential for the country? Certainly, events have developed quickly. But what about a potential Azerbaijani incursion into Karabakh? Although there has been a ceasefire in place for the past 14 years, Azerbaijan's warmongering and saberrattling continues unabated, with its uncurbed military spending raising eyebrows and tensions. Should that not have been a good enough reason for Armenia to have been better prepared?
Only two days ago did television stations start reporting about the fuel shortage in the country. The greatest deception of the 20th century was that the Soviet Union collapsed. The same bureaucratic apparatus, the same secrecy, the same mentality continues to reign in all post-Soviet countries. Most people in Yerevan, and I would argue in Armenia, are not fully aware of the extremely vulnerable situation that the country is in. People I know personally who don't drive cars didn't realize the severity of the situation. It seems that it is a deliberate attempt by Armenian authorities to maintain calm. It reminds one of the infamous days of Radio Yerevan during the Soviet era where everything was great, people were happy, food was abundant, and life was awesome. We are living in altered realities.
