InternationalThe power of the people
Published: Saturday May 02, 2009 in Living in Armenia
Tzitzernakaberd, April 24, 2009. Mkhitar Khachatryan / Photolure
Yerevan - Whenever there's imbalance in the world, events, either natural or artificial, occur that place things in their proper order.
The political situation in Armenia can change rapidly, as can people's perceptions of the world in which they live, and that can dictate their every move.
For the past ten months, Armenia-Turkey rapprochement has been on the forefront of Armenia's domestic and foreign-policy agenda. Soccer diplomacy became the catchphrase to which everyone from the United States to Russia was referring.
Relations with a neighbor with whom we have deep historical grievances and demands was further complicated when Turkey slammed the border shut in solidarity with Azerbaijan over the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict 16 years ago. While an air corridor between our two countries exists, land and rail crossings have not been open since 1993.
On the morning of April 23, 2009, we woke up to a different world. Armenia's Foreign Ministry at approximately 1:30 in the morning, Yerevan time, had released a statement that Armenia and Turkey, through Swiss mediation, had agreed to an elusive "road map," one which we have yet to fully understand. While the Turkish media are in a free-for-all, disseminating information or misinformation, the Armenian media are still scrambling to get answers from Armenia's leadership. That same day, Yerkir Media, a local TV station, posed a question to the Foreign Ministry, asking what the road map was. The answer that the ministry later circulated to all media outlets in the country was that in diplomatic lingo, "road map" means a plan of action, a term often used in diplomatic negotiations. No kidding. The Middle East has had a road map since 2002....
All of this happened one day before the 94th anniversary of the greatest tragedy in our collective history. The Armenian Genocide is an intrinsic component of our national identity. It's the one issue that unites us among a diversity of opinions regarding every aspect of our nationhood.
I have walked to Tzitzernakaberd, the Genocide memorial in Yerevan, for the past nine years with my compatriots. Every year I have witnessed the solemn journey that Armenians in the homeland embark upon to pay their respects to their slain forebears. Every year I am moved. This year something else took place.
While, admittedly, only a small percentage of Armenians globally are truly engaged in issues impacting statehood, and an even smaller percentage of Armenians in Armenia are engaged, and while I don't believe that people had the time or the capacity in a 24-hour period to analyze the events that were unfolding before us, there was a collective understanding that something was askew in our national life.
Hence the remarkable numbers of people making the annual journey to Tzitzernakaberd this year.
Even in 2005, when for the 90th anniversary of the Armenia Genocide, a plethora of events were organized in Armenia, not as many people made the journey to the Genocide memorial.
By 6:00 P.M. this year, the flowers were already about two meters high and the numbers of people coming to pay their respects by the eternal flame was increasing by the hour. At approximately 9:45 P.M. Armenia's state-run television announced that already 800,000 people had been to the monument, and the numbers kept growing. Watching the swelling crowds at the memorial on television caused our hearts to swell with a mixture of pride and trepidation.
What did this mean? Why was there such an overwhelming need, this year, to go to the monument?
The Armenian people understood that they had to come out, they had to show the world that regardless of what kind of road map their authorities had agreed to with the Turkish side, they would never forget and never stop demanding justice. It was a national obligation. It was a personal obligation to our grandparents who had witnessed a kind of hatred that leaves its scent on generations and generations to come.
But the Armenians in Yerevan were not the only ones who felt that something that might change the course of our lives, or our country was developing. Most instinctively felt the tug of history, of what shadowy relations with our much stronger neighbor to the west was capable. From Stepanakert, the capital of Nagorno-Karabakh to Akhaltskha, Akhalkalak, and Ninotsminda in Javakhk, to Gyumri under a freak snowstorm, Armenians paid tribute, they remembered, they demanded recognition and justice.
Right across the globe, Armenians dispersed to the winds because of the Genocide, marched, demonstrated, held candlelight vigils, organized exhibitions, had book readings, and film screenings, clashed with riot police, handed over memoranda to Turkish missions in all the major and some not-so-major capitals around the world.
Watching Armenians in different countries commemorating the 94th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide, I realized we are so unbelievably strong when we are united. A small nation, so small that people can forget we exist, yet our voices can be so strong as to bring global attention to the one thing that wiped away even our personal histories, the Armenian Genocide.
While the future is somewhat blurry and both the homeland and the diaspora are struggling, while Armenians and Turks are talking and the Azerbaijanis are sulking and the Russians and the Americans are maneuvering, and who knows what Iran is thinking, I am so proud to be an Armenian.
