44…

The 44th day. Again, it’s the 44th day, and everything turns upside down in the soul of the people of Artsakh.

That vicious number doesn’t bring back any good memories. We have a feeling of déjà vu. 

After the 44-day war, Artsakh again relives the 44th day of another kind of war. Yes, this blockade is also a war aimed at ethnic cleansing and genocide in Artsakh.

On the 44th day of the war in 2020, the hearts of thousands of Armenian sons stopped beating and life ceased also for those who were alive. With their unfinished dreams, the dreams of all broke into pieces. Our country appeared on the edge of the abyss.

The human heart’s physiological beats, inhaling and exhaling, made thousands of people of Artsakh face the unbelievable reality. Despite the maddening reality, the people continue to live on the land, which is sanctified by the blood of their sons…on the land, which their sons once protected and now their souls rest there.

The 44th day of blockade is chilly in Artsakh. The cold is blowing from everywhere—from the faces of passersby, from the empty shelves of stores, from the streets emptied of traffic, from the closed schools, from the half-dark windows of the houses lit by the dim light of a candle.

From the window of my home, I see the way leading to Shushi. Below, I see the Stepanakert memorial. Outside my window, darkness descends on the town, making the silence of the memorial more complete. The snow-white peaks of the lost mountains blend into the azure of the horizon beyond Shushi.

When the lights of Shushi are turned on, the lights of the capital are turned off, and the cold winds of the winter start to howl in the dark streets. Who knows, perhaps that wind came from those mountains, which blend into the horizon, stroking Ghazanchetsots’ holy walls deprived of Christian prayers and touching Shushi’s impregnable fortress.

This cold wind is more pleasant than the world’s and our compatriots’ coldness. There is a big longing in this wind, which hits you in the face not allowing your mind to darken with the streets, not to lose your belief and your hope not to fade away.

In the darkness of the town, the stories about the 90s blockade, famine, war and student years appear before my eyes, as told by my grandmom and my mom when I was a child; these stories seem to reflect today’s reality.

My grandmom came through three wars, and she used to insist on keeping flour, sugar and oil at home, perhaps because of bitter life experiences she had. My mom recalls how they walked kilometers to get to university, how they all wanted to cook at the same time while the electricity was turned on and because of that the power system couldn’t keep up and shut down again. She also remembers how they waited in line for hours to buy a loaf of bread.

On the 44th day of the blockade, there are no minimum conditions necessary for human life in Artsakh. Food and medicines have run out. There is no fuel. Electricity is not enough. Schools are closed. Public transport is overloaded, and communication between Stepanakert and other regions has become difficult. People continue to subsist on only sugar, oil, pasta, millet and rice, for which they are given coupons. Vitamin-rich foods such as fruits and vegetables are missing from the diet. Rarely does any other product appear in stores besides the aforementioned five, and even if it does appear you know about it from a long line in front of the stores.

You have to get to your workplace on foot, as there is no fuel for cars. But if you are lucky enough, you can get public transport and get to the place you wanted on one foot.

Electricity isn’t enough, either. We already don’t have electricity for six hours a day. Children have to study and read books under the light of candles like in the 90s, but it’s very difficult to find candles in stores.

At the banks, you have to stand in line to withdraw money. If there is money left, you can withdraw 50,000 dram. You must stand in line to buy dairy products, and then you stand in another line for eggs, after that for cigarettes. In order to find hygiene products, you spend the whole day in the shops of the city and find nothing.

The difficulties of the blockade have increased the willingness of the people of Artsakh to sympathize and help each other. There is now a Facebook group in Artsakh, ‘I need…,’ where people often ask for the products they need, but along with the ‘I needs,’ the saddest posts are those of mothers. Can you imagine your children resenting you and not speaking to you because you can’t buy sweets for them, or your children see bananas on TV and start to cry and you can’t find bananas for them? Do you imagine? I don’t think so…

On the 44th day of the blockade of Artsakh…we are strong and with great hope.

Author information

Vahagn Khachatrian

Vahagn Khachatrian was born on October 2, 1999 in the Republic of Artsakh. He graduated with a degree in economics from Artsakh State University. Vahagn is a member of the ARF Artsakh Youth Organization Central Department and a leader in the ARF Artsakh Junior Organization. He is also a journalist for Aparaj newspaper.

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We are some of the lucky ones who had a happy and carefree childhood. In spite of the lack of toys and the continuing difficult social-economic situation after the first war, we were content, because we had an opportunity to go to school, to play and communicate with our contemporaries.

Then 2020 came, when the stores were full of various toys and electronic gadgets. There were places of entertainment and comfortable schools. But the coronavirus pandemic, the 44-day war and the Artsakh blockade have since deprived the 20,000 school-age children of Artsakh of their right to an education, ending their joyful games and putting them at risk of starvation. Schools are closed due to the lack of food, electricity and gas.  

Unfortunately, our children have become the victims of Azerbaijan’s genocidal policy.

Marta Chilingarian is from the village of Vank in Martakert. “It feels like the blockade of Artsakh stopped our life course. We rarely see cars in the streets. There aren’t children hurrying to school anymore, because classes have been suspended indefinitely. We can’t find the products we need in the stores. There is a lack of medicine. Divided families continue to remain on either side of the closed corridor. The apartments are deprived of heating, and if there is electricity, we use it sparingly. In this continuing blockade, we understood that our people are very kind, they help each other in hard times, and with all this we will survive this crisis situation.”

Since the blockade, Chilingarian has become more careful and has started to signify every moment of her life. She understood that New Year’s Eve, loved by everyone, is first and foremost a family holiday with happiness. She says we should start to value every moment we spend with our family, because on the other side of the closed road, hundreds of children and parents are separated from each other.

Chilingarian says she misses geography lessons and her classmates.

“School gives us education, which is essential for our future. In this situation, we believe that we must be armed with knowledge, so we can fight for our rights, which are ignored by a lot of people in the world.”

Despite the blockade and school closures, Chilingarian doesn’t like sitting at home and being sad; she believes every cloud has a silver lining.

“Most of my time, I spend reading. I also write verses or anything I feel. I started to explore new languages and deepen my knowledge,” she shared. Chilingarian says she has a lot of goals, but doesn’t like speaking out about them.

“I’d like to speak about them after I achieve them. All my goals concern the independence, recognition and development of Artsakh. I will give my knowledge to the future generations, because life goes on, and we must be a worthwhile generation,” said Chilingarian.

Mary Adamian is a ninth grader in Martuni. She says that this catastrophe will end one day, because the people of Artsakh are strong, fair and stubborn. Artsakh is Armenian land, and only Armenians have the right to live here.

“I am sure if this will continue for even years we will endure and win, as we are Armenians. Our nation belongs to God, and those who belong to God are unbeatable. We are unbeatable because we have faith. Our soul is fighting and free. We are ready to experience any hardships, as long as we protect and keep the land Armenian, for which thousands of people gave their lives,” said Adamian with conviction.

Adamian had many dreams before the blockade. Now she keeps them in her heart and doesn’t speak about them, because nobody speaks about personal dreams now. Everyone has one goal: to overcome these difficulties and live freely and happily in their own land.

“My biggest dream is to live in Artsakh,” she confessed.

She misses her school, classmates and teachers. She is impatient and wonders when she will return to school. Until then, she tries to fill her days with entertainment. She reads books and watches movies. She values the knowledge gained at school because it is helpful in this difficult situation. In any case, she believes she should continue to study and develop.

Arsen Gevorgian is 17 years old. He is a future soldier of Artsakh, its protector. He claims that the blockade created by Azerbaijan aims at depopulating Artsakh, but he says it seems they don’t know the people of Artsakh very well.

“They are unable to take in the fact that in blockaded Artsakh, no one is going to leave their homeland. On the contrary, these difficulties unite us. They give us strength and increase our sense of revenge against the enemy,” asserts Gevorgian.

Gevorgian is not only deprived of an education, but he has been enduring this blockade without his mother, who has been in Yerevan.

“My life has changed 180 degrees,” he describes. My mom is in Yerevan and can’t come back. I do the main housework. My perspective has changed completely. During this hard time, we have understood that the international community doesn’t help us because different countries have no benefit from us.”

Gevorgian says he misses his school, teachers and friends. He is an artist and aims to organize a personal exhibit before going to the army. The theme of his work is Artsakh. After he is discharged, he wants to become a designer and make his small contribution to building and making Artsakh known.

Author information

Vahagn Khachatrian

Vahagn Khachatrian was born on October 2, 1999 in the Republic of Artsakh. He graduated with a degree in economics from Artsakh State University. Vahagn is a member of the ARF Artsakh Youth Organization Central Department and a leader in the ARF Artsakh Junior Organization. He is also a journalist for Aparaj newspaper.

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On February 19, 1945 in Germany, a 13-year-old girl was standing outside her parents’ farmhouse when she looked up at the sky and saw something that would haunt her for the rest of her life. What she saw was a mysterious man falling from the sky without a parachute. She immediately knew he was condemned to a certain death and felt so sorry for him. Her mind told her to look away, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. What she didn’t know was the identity of this man. His name was S/Sgt Tzolag A. Aaronian, and he was an Armenian American hero from Massachusetts.

Aaronian and his eight crewmates were aboard a B-24 bomber nicknamed “Our Little Lady.” They were heading toward Kirchen, Germany to destroy a military target. Flying over Germany was always dangerous; but there were no German fighters around, and the weather was fine. Suddenly, all the navigating instruments broke down. The pilot, 2nd Lt. Leo O. Mercer, felt it was safer to cancel the mission and quickly return to an Allied air base. That’s when one of the engines broke down, causing the bomber to rapidly lose altitude. The pilot desperately tried to reach Allied territory, but it became obvious that the bomber was going to crash on German soil. Running out of options, the entire crew bailed out over Krefeld, Germany, which is only 18 miles from the Netherlands. Eight crewmen opened their parachutes, landed on a field and were quickly captured by German soldiers. Aaronian’s parachute, however, never opened; he was killed upon impacting the ground. This true Armenian American hero was only 26 years old.

That German girl never forgot the man who fell out of the sky, and back in Massachusetts, his family never forgot the wonderful young man who went off to war and never came back. Born on February 1, 1919 in Cambridge, Massachusetts, Aaronian was the loving son of Arakel and Vartanoosh, two Armenian refugees who were forced to leave their country. That heartbreaking moment inflicted a wound that never healed, but like so many Armenians, they showed strength and courage, kept moving forward, and started a new life in the hope of a better future. As a child, Aaronian was funny, kind hearted, generous, helpful and extremely clever. He attended Northeastern University in Boston, where he became a reporter for the on-campus newspaper. Who knows, if that parachute had opened, Aaronian could have become a renowned reporter, and maybe he would have written outstanding articles for the Armenian Weekly.

On July 2, 1943, Aaronian decided to join the war effort and put his life on the line to defeat tyranny. He became a proud member of the US Air Force and served as a radio operator and an air gunner with the 565th Bomb Squadron, 389th Bomb Group. Every time Aaronian and his crewmates flew over enemy-occupied territory, their aircraft became vulnerable prey. German anti-aircraft defenses were very effective and accurate, and German fighters were always hunting down Allied bombers. Unlike a city or a forest, there was no place to hide. Like most airmen who fought for freedom during WWII, Aaronian was often scared—scared to never see his beloved parents again, scared to die thousands of miles away from home, scared to die alone. But like all heroes, his courage was stronger than his fears. His convictions were stronger than his doubts, and his willingness to sacrifice was stronger than his desire to live.

Week after week, Aaronian and his crewmates miraculously avoided death and successfully fulfilled their missions. But they ran out of luck on February 19, 1945, only two months before the end of the war in Europe. Shortly after that fateful day, Aaronian’s body was found by the Germans, but he was misidentified as a Canadian airman. His body was located and correctly identified in September 1947. Aaronian was buried at the Ardennes American Cemetery in Belgium, where 5,329 other heroes are resting in peace. Some of them fought and died at sea. Some fought and died on the ground. Some fought and died in the sky, but they all fought and died for a heavenly cause.

Far from home, far from his parents and far from his relatives, Aaronian may seem all alone in Belgium, but he isn’t. He’s with PFC Armen B. Tookmanian, T/Sgt Harry Zadoorian, PFC Andrew Kevorkian and T/Sgt John H. Minassian—Armenian American heroes who gave their lives to liberate Europe, and they are all buried at the Ardennes American Cemetery. Every single one of them has a story, and every single story must be told. Thanks to their sacrifice, the skies are now calm and peaceful. The roaring sound of death ended, enabling the harmonious sound of nature to be heard again. We can now look up at the sky and admire drifting clouds without fear and apprehension. So let us cherish what they did for all of us, and show that we are worthy of their legacy.

Author information

John Dekhane

John Dekhane grew up in Paris before moving to the South of France. He works for a sport organization in Monaco. Since he was a child, he has always been interested in World War II with particular emphasis on American soldiers. In order to honor them, over the past years, he has located and purchased WWII U.S. artifacts in Europe and donated these items to more than a hundred museums in the United States.

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“I should be very much obliged to you if you would kindly take care of the young Léon Bogosian [Levon Boghosian], during your journey to America.”

So begins a letter found among the documents in the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) archives in Watertown and another story, both unique and universal, from the post-genocide experiences of Armenians. The reality contained in this and another letter to which it was attached moved me so greatly that I could not simply scan them and move on. I needed to learn more about Levon Boghosian and Altoun Nakshian, the woman who would be responsible for him on his “journey to America.”

While scanning the passport applications submitted to the representatives of the First Republic government in exile in Marseilles, application 1885 was in the form of a letter to US immigration authorities from Tigran S. Mirzayantz. The letter, dated 20 March 1923, explains that Levon was an 11-year-old orphan being sent to the US to join his uncle, Avedis Kazarian, in Waukegan, Wisconsin. The immigration officials were requested to assist Levon upon his arrival and were informed that he would be traveling with Altoun Nakshian.

Then there is the second letter partly quoted at the beginning of this article. This letter is dated the same day and addressed to Altoun. But the letter asks more of Altoun than simply accompanying Levon. In case the uncle could not be found or was unwilling to take charge of his nephew, then Altoun was expected to care for Levon completely in the US such that he would not become a public charge.

Below this letter is the response from Altoun in Armenian and bearing her signature. She agreed to not only take Levon to his relatives in America, but should they refuse the boy, she agreed to care for him and take on all his expenses herself.

At first, the name Altoun Nakshian did not ring a bell with me. I found the ship manifest of Levon, Altoun and Altoun’s two daughters (Elmas, age 13 and Berjouhi, age 10) arriving in the US on April 7, 1923 on the SS George Washington. While the manifest indicated Levon was detained as he was under the age of 16, likely to become a public charge, and with the quotas having been exceeded, I did see that he was able to join his relatives in Wisconsin and in the 1930 census was living with them. During World War II, Levon joined the Navy and served on the U.S.S. Chiwawa and U.S.S. Soley. He married Lucy Karian, and they had three daughters. Levon died in 1983 in Fresno.

After having learned Levon’s fate, I became curious about Altoun and if the families had stayed in contact. I learned that one of Altoun’s daughters, Berjouhi, would after marriage be known by the name Bertha Ketchian, and that finally clicked. Bertha had written In the Shadow of the Fortress: The Genocide Remembered [1988, Zoryan Institute]. I checked my copy of the book, and there it was:

“In a few days our agent Joseph, or Hovsep, came to tell us that our papers were ready and we could be on our way to the United States. He asked a favor of Mother. There was an orphan boy who was to go to America to be reunited with his only living relative, a father or uncle…My mother agreed to take care of the boy. His name was Levon. He was orphaned during the Genocide and had later been placed in an orphanage. His father, or uncle, learned of his whereabouts and was now taking the boy to America. The three of us [Altoun, Elmas and Berjouhi] had gone through a tremendous ordeal, but what about this little boy of ten or eleven who had been all alone for so long? And he was not the only one – there were thousands of little ones left all alone through no fault of their own or of their families who had been killed. Levon was a bright boy who had already learned some French and English. He became a member of our family right away; we all grew very attached to Levon, and he to us.”

As Berjouhi would relate, when they arrived at Ellis Island, US immigration officials would not allow Levon to travel with the Nakshian family, but he instead had to wait until his own family came to retrieve him. And that was the last mention of Levon in the book. I have since spoken to the descendants of both Levon and Berjouhi, and they confirm the details. Berjouhi’s family confirmed that Altoun did know that Levon joined his family safely. Interestingly, Levon’s family retained their copies of the same two letters, though their copies did differ from those in the ARF archives. Specifically, the photo of Levon was affixed to a different letter, and theirs lacked the touching response from Altoun.

This is the story behind just one of the 20,000 passport applications now being digitized, transcribed and placed on the ARF archives website. Thus far, about 5,000 have been scanned. Of these, 1,200 have been transcribed through the volunteer effort of the Relais International de Généalogie Arménienne. These 1,200 have already been loaded to the website.

For those interested in supporting the ARF archives, tax-deductible donations can be made through the Armenian Cultural Association of America (ACAA).

Author information

George Aghjayan

George Aghjayan is the Director of the ARF Archives and a member of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) Central Committee of the Eastern United States. Aghjayan graduated with honors from Worcester Polytechnic Institute in 1988 with a Bachelor of Science degree in Actuarial Mathematics. He achieved Fellowship in the Society of Actuaries in 1996. After a career in both insurance and structured finance, Aghjayan retired in 2014 to concentrate on Armenian related research and projects. His primary area of focus is the demographics and geography of western Armenia as well as a keen interest in the hidden Armenians living there today. Other topics he has written and lectured on include Armenian genealogy and genocide denial. He is a frequent contributor to the Armenian Weekly and Houshamadyan.org, and the creator and curator westernarmenia.weebly.com, a website dedicated to the preservation of Armenian culture in Western Armenia.

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Armen Arslanian, an Armenian from Los Angeles, had been traveling on business to Dhaka, the capital city of Bangladesh, for many years.

On his first visit in 2010, he discovered an Armenian church. This intrigued Arslanian. After all, Bangladesh is a Muslim-majority country, and Arslanian knew that the country had no Armenian community. 

So why would Dhaka, the capital, have an Armenian church?

Arslanian trekked out to the church, which is located in the Armanitola neighborhood of Old Dhaka. At the church, Arslanian encountered an old man named Michael Martin. The encounter would lead to a friendship that would alter the church’s future.

Mr. Martin was born in Burma (now Myanmar) as Mikhael Mardirossian, and then moved to Dhaka, where he, too, made his own “discovery” of Dhaka’s Armenian church. 

When Mr. Martin arrived in Dhaka, the Armenian church was derelict and empty. The building and surrounding grounds were the last surviving relics of a centuries-old Armenian community of Bangladesh.

So Mr. Martin assumed control of the church. He took possession of it—literally. And he saved the building from destruction or, equally likely, from seizure by thieves who might want to take title to the valuable property.

Mr. Martin maintained the vacant church. He made repairs, and he stayed on the property, serving as a deterrent to those who might try to take up residence or assert ownership of an otherwise abandoned property.

Each time Arslanian returned to Dhaka on a business trip, he visited the church and reconnected with Mr. Martin.

“Mr. Martin, he was a hero,” Arslanian told me during a phone conversation a few weeks before I made my journey to Bangladesh.

“He could have taken the church and put everything in his name. But he didn’t. He was a true Armenian,” said Arslanian.

During one of his business trips to Dhaka in 2014, Arslanian arrived to discover that the elderly Mr. Martin just had a stroke. Mr. Martin knew that he would need to find someone to take over the upkeep and care of the church. 

So Mr. Martin turned to Arslanian.

Mr. Martin liked Arslanian. He trusted him. And there weren’t exactly a lot of others to whom he could turn for help. So, Mr. Martin selected Arslanian to fill that role. Arslanian has been managing the affairs of the church ever since.

I also “discovered” Bangladesh’s Armenian church when I traveled to Dhaka in February. I was in the country to serve as a policy specialist for a water project organized by Robert Kurkjian, a scientist from Pasadena, Calif. Kurkjian is executive director of Environmental Strategies International. For this project, he had partnered with the humanitarian organization Chemists Without Borders. 

Kurkjian’s project will save lives. The project tests water for the naturally-occurring arsenic that is present at elevated concentrations in many wells and is developing a water sharing program to ensure that residents of rural areas can have a supply of safe water for drinking and cooking. He developed an outreach plan to help rural residents understand the risks of arsenic poisoning and how they could avoid getting chronically ill.

In other words, Kurkjian and I were in Bangladesh for reasons other than visiting an Armenian church. But we made time to discover the church, just as Arslanian had done, more than a decade earlier.

Yes, we were drawn by our heritage to visit the site. But we also needed to answer the question: why does a country with no Armenians have a functioning Armenian church? 

For the answer, we ventured to Armanitola, a neighborhood so-named because it was once a thriving Armenian community.

Some of the shops in the Armanitola neighborhood are owned by the Armenian church of Dhaka and are leased to shopkeepers. The rent from the shops helps pay for the upkeep of the church.

And just across the street from these shops stood the jarring site that we had come to survey: the Armenian Church of the Holy Resurrection. 

The site has its share of superlatives. It’s the only Armenian church in Bangladesh, and it’s also one of the oldest Christian sites in the country. 

Most jarring of all: the church is empty. Mr. Martin, the last surviving member of Dhaka’s Armenian community, had died a few years before our visit. 

History of the Armenian Church of Dhaka

Armenians first settled this region in the early 1700s. By 1781, they had erected the church that now stands in Dhaka, on a parcel of land that had served as Dhaka’s Armenian cemetery. Many of the tombstones from that era have survived and now flank the church.

The oldest of the tombstones marks the grave of an Armenian merchant named Avietes and is dated August 15, 1714. It was in this graveyard that the early Armenians of Dhaka built their first chapel. When the community grew, they razed the chapel and replaced it with the church that stands today.

At its zenith, the Armenian community had a population of about 300. Despite the community’s small size, it played a large role in business life in Dhaka, and it was influential in the city’s affairs.

The community had all but vanished by the 1980s, and eventually only Mr. Martin would remain as the church’s sole caretaker. He was also the last surviving member of the Armenian community. When he died in 2020, the day-to-day care of the church building was passed on to a local Bangladeshi, a 63-year-old man named Shankar Ghosh.

We met Mr. Ghosh when we visited the church in February. He was warm and effusive and insisted on showing us around. We also happened to meet his adult grandson, who was also at the church that day. 

Mr. Ghosh is not Armenian. He is Hindu. His connection to this church dates back to 1985, when Mr. Martin invited him to become a live-in caretaker for the church. He’s lived there ever since.

On the day of our visit, Mr. Ghosh greeted us at the church gate and ushered us onto the grounds. “Sign the book. Sign the book,” he urged us, so that he could have a record of our visit in the guestbook.

Several other visitors were at the church on the day of our visit—an ordinary weekday afternoon. The church is one of Dhaka’s leading tourist spots—not that there are so many tourists in Bangladesh, but still, it’s an achievement. 

Each week on Thursdays, the church gets hundreds of local visitors. This is the day when the church sponsors a food distribution program—a soup kitchen of sorts, for the neighborhood’s needy people. “We call it Mr. Martin’s Food Drive. Mothers come with their babies in their arms,” says Arslanian. The babies receive milk. The others receive full meals. Funding comes in part from the rent on the properties that the church owns.

Sometime soon, perhaps in the next few months, the church will receive a resident priest. “It’s a done deal,” says Arslanian. “Echmiadzin [the seat of the Armenian Church] has already agreed.”

The priest will be in residence at the church in Dhaka for most of each month, but will also be available to tend to the needs of the Armenian communities of Singapore and Myanmar. “It’s just a 40-minute flight to Myanmar,” says Arslanian. “And they already have a beautiful [Armenian] church there.”

Bringing in a resident priest will help raise the profile of the church. Arslanian says he would like the church to add an educational program for the children in the neighborhood. Even without a congregation, the resident priest will be busy with community outreach, says Arslanian.

And of course there’s also the matter of maintaining the physical structure of the church building itself. 

People from out of town are astounded that there’s a church in Bangladesh and what brilliant condition it’s in.

But for the people of Dhaka, there’s a bit less astonishment. For them, the church is an established part of the community. How established? In 2001, the Bangladesh Post Office commemorated the history of the Armenian church of Dhaka with a postage stamp. (Armenia’s post office released its own stamp 21 years later).

This was the answer to our question. Dhaka has an Armenian church because it’s part of the country’s heritage. Proud Armenians have maintained the church for more than 200 years. And the people of Dhaka have accepted the Armenians.

Robert Kurkjian and Matthew Karanian visited Dhaka’s Armenian church during a humanitarian trip to Bangladesh, where they worked on a project to bring safer water to Bangladesh’s rural communities.

Finding Bangladesh in Armenia

There’s a neighborhood in Yerevan that everyone calls Bangladesh.

It looks nothing like the country of Bangladesh. The people who live there are Armenian. And the architecture is more or less what you’d expect to see in Armenia. 

There’s also no community of Bangladeshis who live in Yerevan, certainly not in numbers that would warrant naming a community after them.

So why do Armenians refer to the Malatia-Sebastia district of Yerevan by the nickname Bangladesh?

Ask someone today in Yerevan, and they will be likely to tell you what I was told whenever I asked. The neighborhood is called Bangladesh because it’s far from the center of Yerevan, and getting there is inconvenient. 

The nickname gained traction right around the time that Bangladesh became an independent state, some 50 years ago. This has led some to speculate that the nickname was intended to honor the new republic. I’m not aware of any other newly-independent states being so honored in Armenia, so I’ll go with the far, far away theory.

For an Armenian tribute to Bangladesh that’s a bit easier to understand, look to Hay Post, the Armenian post office. They released a postage stamp last year that commemorates the Armenian Church of the Holy Resurrection of Dhaka, Bangladesh. The stamp has a face value of 320 dram, which is enough to pay the rate for mailing a letter from Yerevan to the neighborhood (but not the country) of Bangladesh.

Author information

Matthew Karanian

Matthew Karanian practices law in Pasadena, Calif. He is the author of ‘The Armenian Highland: Western Armenia and the First Armenian Republic of 1918’ (Stone Garden Press, 2019). For more information, visit www.historicarmeniabook.com

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Five years ago, while I was minoring in Armenian Studies at UCLA, one of my Armenian professors asked one of the simplest questions: “Where are you from?”

Most everybody, as I initially did, would answer by saying they are either Hayastantsi, Beirutsi, Halebtsi, etc. My answer at the time was, “I am half Hayastantsi and half Baghdadtsi,” since I was born in the United States, my father was born in Armenia and my mother’s parents were born in Iraq. My professor, dissatisfied with everyone’s answers, pushed us further and posed the following scenario: if someone were to offer all the land back that your family lost during the Armenian Genocide, would you even know where you are from? I was compelled to learn more about my family’s history, and ever since then, I have been striving to learn more.

I started asking my relatives, researching information online, found a family tree made by my late grandmother Seda Tapanian and hunted through old photo albums to learn more about my family’s history and begin to understand where I am from.

I learned that prior to the Armenian Genocide, my family was from a whole host of villages and cities throughout historic Armenia, including Adana, Afyon, Amasya, Bergama, Constantinople, Dortyol, Marash, Shabin-Karahisar and Van, as well as Plovdiv, Bulgaria. I learned and recorded the various dates of birth and death of my relatives, many of whom I never met. For example, Bernard Jabourian (1895-1978) was my mother’s great-grandfather; he was born in what is currently known as Dörtyol, Turkey, historically known as Chok Merzban. Sahag Yazdanian, my father’s great-grandfather, was born in what is currently known as Şebinkarahisar, Turkey. 

With all of this information, I created a map that pinpointed my family’s native villages and cities. I was able to visualize exactly where everyone was from and attempt to understand my ancestors’ traumatic displacements from their homes due to the Armenian Genocide. After the Genocide, my family settled in various countries, such as Armenia, Egypt, Greece and Iraq.

I continue to learn stories about my relatives. Most recently, I found the wedding photo of my second great-grandparents (my mother’s grandfather’s parents), Kerop and Veronica Jamkoujyan, who were from Amasya, Turkey and did not survive the Armenian Genocide. Most of their family did not survive the Genocide either, except for two of their children who escaped to Baghdad—my great-grandfather Garabed Jamkoujyan (1900 – 1986), the youngest child, and Zabel Jamkoujyan, the eldest child. Garabed and Zabel’s four brothers were all targeted and murdered by the Ottoman government as they all were well educated, therefore seen as a threat, but my great-grandfather Garabed was not targeted because he was only a young teenager at the time. I learned that though one of their other brothers, Simon Jamkoujyan, was murdered by the Ottoman Empire, his widow, Siranoush Jamkoujyan, survived and ended up living in France.

Without any sort of DNA test, I also learned that I am 1/16th Bulgarian. My grandfather’s grandmother Anka Donikian was Bulgarian; I found a picture of her in an old photo album. One of these albums included a large picture of General Antranig. When I asked family members about it, my grandfather’s sister Veronica Baghdassarian told me that her maternal grandfather was a soldier for General Antranig; his name was Vartan Donikian. Donikian lived in Bolis (Constantinople) and later relocated to Bulgaria per a directive of the church, which learned that the Ottoman government would be targeting the group. 

I learned that my paternal grandfather Mesrop Tapanian was born in Thessaloniki, Greece because Sarkis Tapanian (1912 – 1977), who was born in Bergama, Turkey, and Azatouhie Tapanian (1914 – 2008), who was born in Afyon, Turkey, survived the Armenian Genocide and went to live in Thessaloniki, Greece.

I learned more about my mother’s grandfather Vartan Abrahamian (1914 – 1987), who was born in Van, Western Armenia in 1914 right before the Ottoman Empire perpetrated the Armenian Genocide of 1915. Abrahamian was orphaned and ended up in Iran, until eventually immigrating to Baghdad, Iraq.

What started as a simple question asked by my professor at UCLA back in 2017 turned into a years-long journey of continuously learning about my family history. Even though it is much easier to state that I am “half Hayastantsi and half Baghdadtsi,” I’ve learned that it reduces my family’s history to something so simple, because it ignores so much. I can now produce a much more detailed answer to the question “where are you from?”

I am: 

• 2/16 Adana-hye
• 2/16 Afyon-atsi
• 2/16 Amasya-hye
• 2/16 Bergama-tsi
• 1/16 Bolsa-hye
• 1/16 Bulgarian
• 1/16 Dortyol-tsi
• 1/16 Marash-tsi
• 2/16 Shabin-Karahisar-tsi
• 2/16 Van-etsi

Author information

Raffi Tapanian

Raffi Tapanian is a licensed attorney in the State of California. He graduated from Loyola Law School in Los Angeles, California and passed the California Bar Exam in 2022. Raffi was the treasurer for the Armenian Law Students Association at Loyola. In 2019, Raffi graduated from UCLA with a major in History, while minoring in Armenian Studies.

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My father told me that my great-grandfather Sipan Sepoyan was a clan leader in Western Armenia. My ancestors had a sense of national authority in the Armenian mountains. Unfortunately, we are currently like fish in a bowl instead of the sea. Future generations are losing the power and the sense that they have firm roots as descendants of people who have left their mark on a specific soil, among specific people. We are losing our powerful skeleton for a resilient identity like an animal breed living outside its natural habitat, kept by others to consequently end up with future generations having less defined characteristics. We are like a flower being plucked off its roots and put into a vase with water; it cannot hold its initial state from nature and maintains its bright colors for merely a few days until that which defines its beauty no longer exists. 

My father’s grandmother, who witnessed the Armenian Genocide, used to practice herbal healing. She was known to be an intelligent woman. When anyone in our family in the Netherlands complained about their health, she would respond, “I wish I were in our mountains; I would find the right plant to make you better.” I wish she could have returned to her mountains so that she could heal, like a root put back into its soil, ready to have a purpose again.

My maternal grandmother Armenouhi Pilavjian is a daughter of genocide survivors. She told me how her mother, Marie Minasian Pilavjian, described having witnessed a Turkish officer take an Armenian toddler by the legs and rip the poor child open. This happened when my great-grandmother still lived in Kilis, Western Armenia, as a small child before the exile. Three officers had entered her neighbor’s front yard and demanded she tell them where her son was. She told them she did not know. So they grabbed her grandchild, ripped him open and threw him on the ground. When the grandmother yelled, “Aman tornigs, aman, aman!” (Oh my grandchild, oh, oh), an officer grabbed his knife and cut her tongue off.

This was only the beginning of the traumatizing events during that period of my great-grandmother’s life. It was the beginning of the Armenian Genocide. That story was one of very few examples that voiced the trauma. Most of my great-grandmother’s stories were either abstract or comical, which does not come as a surprise, considering trauma can make one dissociate from emotions that are too extreme to handle; dissociation and humor are coping mechanisms. 

My great-grandmother remembered a man who used to tell children comical stories while they were being exiled. These stories were about his life back in the village. He had been a poor man; when he broke into a house to steal bread, two people walked in, so he hid in a large clay jar. He was able to peek through a hole. The two people were the homeowner’s wife and her secret lover. When the husband approached the house, the lover hid in the same jar as the thief and was startled to see he had company. The husband, hungry for bread, began approaching the jar. His wife tried to convince him not to, but he kept walking. Realizing they would soon be caught, the lover and the thief decided to escape. On the count of three, they kicked the jar open, and hand in hand, they ran out as fast as they could. The confused wife, seeing two men run out instead of one, repeatedly exclaimed in Arabic – “Hattet wahed, talaet tneen” (حطت واحد طلعت اثنين,) meaning, I put in one and two came out. And so, the thief and the lover never went near that house again; regardless, soon after, life stopped for all Armenians there. God only knows if the man with the comical stories continued to spread cheer after the genocidal exile to the south or if he died along the way. I wonder if he did survive and where his grandchildren might reside. 

My great-grandmother survived, but her wound never fully healed. Until her dying breath, she kept her deepest sorrow to herself. Her wound did not die with her. It was passed down to her children and their children (transgenerational trauma or post-memory). My siblings and I feel their complexities, which are difficult to cope with.

When my older sister Nane was in high school in the Netherlands, she wanted to commemorate the victims of the Armenian Genocide as best she could, but obstacles emerged. Usually, on April 24, Armenian students request an excused absence, while many others call in sick because they assume such a request would be denied. Nane has always asked, and it was never a problem until one year when she needed to attend a commemoration and a demonstration for genocide recognition on two separate days. The school’s board leader did not give her a day off for the protest on the 23rd. After her request was refused, Nane made an appointment to explain the importance of her presence at the demonstration. She told him that we, as Armenians, do not commemorate the victims who have fallen by merely gathering and lighting our candles; we want to raise awareness and make our voice heard because Turkey is still denying the Genocide. Otherwise, genocide will continue to take place. She referred to the book The Post-Soviet Wars by German political scientist Christoph Zürcher, who wrote that “white” genocide denotes the repression, assimilation or forced migration of Armenians from their historical land. Forced migration leads to the loss of an Armenian identity among the diaspora, which is a continuation of the Genocide (white genocide).

Nane tried to help the board leader understand so that he would change his mind and accept her request. She explained the relevance of the Armenian Genocide and the emotional value of genocide recognition and its roots; that her ancestors experienced and survived genocide and were brave enough to share their stories with their young descendants. While demonstrations or commemorations are usually held on April 24, that year, it had to be held on April 23 because parliament would be open. But the board leader of the school maintained his stance and did not show any sign of understanding. He repeatedly mentioned that April 24 is a day off, but the 23rd is not. He refused Nane’s request.

That was when she decided to say to him, “Okay, if you insist on not allowing it, then so be it. It is too important to me; I still want to be there, and I’ll just go. I am hereby letting you know that I will not be present at school for my lessons on April 23, because I will be attending a demonstration. I understand your standpoint, but I will be absent and accept the consequences it brings.” Nane would not lie about her absence; she did not want to lie to herself like others, and she thought that would be shameful toward her ancestors and her people. He responded, “Fine, then I’ll have to call the attendance officer.” Nane said, “Okay, I’ll hear when I’m called,” and she left. She went to the demonstration and the memorial; she felt proud and powerful.

She later received a letter summoning her to the school attendance officer at the town hall. My parents accompanied her. The school attendance officer asked her to recount the situation and why she skipped school. Nane honestly explained the importance of the day and what it means to her identity. The school attendance officer expressed her empathy and understanding; she said that the board leader should have given her permission. The officer  recorded her absence as legitimate and ensured there will be no consequences. With her head held high, Nane left the town hall. She had been proven right, and on a micro level, she felt like, to some extent, justice had been done after all; that it was a small accomplishment in her people’s struggle and crucial for her as an Armenian that she did not attend class that day. Ultimately, the officer understood and said to Nane and, in turn, to all of us in this struggle, “You are right.”

Author information

Biaini Sepoyan

Biaini Sepoyan was born and raised in the Netherlands and has lived in Armenia since middle school. She is majoring in English and communications at the American University of Armenia. Biaini is passionate about non-fiction writing and music.

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Special Issue: Genocide Education for the 21st Century
The Armenian Weekly, April 2023¹

“Facts are stubborn things; and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passions, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence.”

–John Adams, 1770²

Almost 200 years after John Adams spoke the words quoted above, Hannah Arendt, in her 1967 essay “Truth and Politics,” reflected on a problem she identified earlier than most: “the extent to which unwelcome factual truths are tolerated in free countries they are often, consciously or unconsciously, transformed into opinions—as though the fact of Germany’s support of Hitler or of France’s collapse before the German armies in 1940 or of Vatican policies during the Second World War were not a matter of historical record but a matter of opinion.”³

Denial does not necessarily need to convince people to be effective: it inflicts sufficient damage by creating a spurious discussion that creates a haze of doubt around the facts.  Facts may be stubborn, as Adams stated, but as Arendt understood, if you can confuse enough people about what the facts are, it is possible to reduce a set of facts to merely the status of opinion.

The American civil rights leader Medgar Evers is credited with saying, “You can kill a man but you can’t kill an idea.”⁴ (Evers was murdered in 1963 by a member of the Ku Klux Klan.)  But the Ottoman Empire and subsequently the Republic of Turkey have tried, and in some ways succeeded, in having it both ways.

Turkey’s protégé state Azerbaijan has emulated its “big brother,” expunging the region of Nakhichevan of all evidence of Armenian existence, threatening Artsakh with annihilation while eradicating evidence of Armenians’ presence in the region, and, in effect, denying the existence of Armenia as such.⁵ Furthermore, subsequent to the writing of most of this article, beginning on December 12, 2022, Azerbaijan imposed a blockade on Artsakh, sealing off its sole connection to Armenia (and, thus, the world), creating dire conditions for the Armenian inhabitants of the region and, in effect, holding them hostage.⁶

Turkey and Azerbaijan are often aided and abetted in their contra-factual efforts by people who call themselves scholars, journalists and policy analysts who, sometimes knowingly, sometimes ignorantly repeat the counterfactual, denialist assertions that emanate from those states. While it is a universally accepted truism that the best way to combat ignorance is with education, and it is also frequently asserted and widely accepted as incontrovertible that education about genocide is the most effective means of preventing its recurrence as well as thwarting its denial, the facts on the ground suggest that this may be optimistic: the remarkable development and proliferation of genocide education in recent decades has not resulted in the elimination or necessarily even the marginalization of genocide denial. 

One does not wish to suggest that education about genocide serves no purpose, nor that it can have no impact on genocide denial; on the contrary, it is essential.  It is important to realize, however, that denial is not always, or even mostly, a product of ignorance, but instead is a strategy for producing a kind of ignorance. As denial and the propagation of “alternative facts” takes its place at the center of contemporary life, it is increasingly important to understand how it works and what it seeks to accomplish. It is there that education is desperately needed.

In 2019, after decades of Armenian-American advocacy, both the US House of Representatives (H.Res. 296) and the Senate (S.Res. 150) passed resolutions expressing “that it is the policy of the United States to commemorate the Armenian Genocide through official recognition and remembrance,” “reject[ing] efforts to enlist, engage, or otherwise associate the United States Government with denial of the Armenian Genocide or any other genocide,” and “encourage[ing] education and public understanding of the facts of the Armenian Genocide, including the role of the United States in humanitarian relief efforts, and the relevance of the Armenian Genocide to modern-day crimes against humanity.” On April 24, 2021, US President Joe Biden became the first president to issue a statement on Armenian Genocide Remembrance day that actually employed the term “Armenian Genocide.”⁷ In 2022, Mississippi became the 50th and final state to recognize the Armenian Genocide.⁸

These landmark occasions in the long struggle for US recognition of the Armenian Genocide follow other such acts of recognition elsewhere in the world and anticipate, one might suppose or hope, future instances elsewhere.

While these noteworthy acts of recognition by the US and other states and entities are in themselves important and contribute to the never-ending pushback against genocide denial, they do not signal that efforts to deny the Armenian Genocide are in retreat.  Turkey’s official denialist stance remains unchanged and efforts to push its narrative in academic, journalistic and think tank circles are undiminished. Furthermore, just as Turkey and Azerbaijan have forged a strong strategic partnership exemplified by the catchphrase “One Nation, Two States” and enacted in the Turkish-facilitated Azerbaijani attack on Artsakh (Nagorno-Karabakh) in 2020, they and those who support their efforts have common cause in crafting and disseminating denialist narratives.⁹ As historian Bedross Der Matossian has recently written, “denialists of the Armenian Genocide are not part of the past, they are still very active in contemporary academic circles. In addition to being preoccupied with their futile efforts at the dissemination of (mis)knowledge about the Armenian Genocide, they also are currently embarking on new projects to write a revisionist history that denies the historical ties of Armenians to the land of Karabagh and undermines their quest for self-determination.”¹⁰

In the aftermath of the 44-day war in late 2020 and the recognition by President Biden of the Armenian Genocide in April 2021, there has been an impressive outpouring of analysis and opinion pieces on matters relating to Armenia, Turkey and Azerbaijan—impressive in quantity, if not always in terms of quality. All too often these have been highly selective and misleading in their presentation of facts and are distorted by, if not examples of, denialist discourse. 

I would like to take a look at three pieces that appeared in prominent, internationally known outlets, Sinan Ülgen’s “Redefining the U.S.-Turkey Relationship” (published on the Carnegie Europe website), Hans Gutbrod and David Wood’s “Turkey Will Never Recognize the Armenian Genocide” (Foreign Policy, June 14, 2021), and Ghaith Abdul-Ahad’s “Each Rock Has Two Names” (London Review of Books, June 17, 2021), before briefly turning to a very recent book publication, The Nagorno-Karabakh Conflict: Historical and Political Perspectives (2022), edited by Michael M. Gunter and M. Hakan Yavuz, and considering some of the fruits of Azerbaijan’s efforts to assert itself in the sphere of western academia.¹¹

A Classic Strategy: The Armenian Genocide as “Controversy”

“Redefining the U.S.-Turkey Relationship” is the first publication in a Carnegie Europe series it calls the “Turkey and the World” initiative. The paper is authored by one of Carnegie Europe’s experts, Sinan Ülgen, a visiting scholar at Carnegie Europe in Brussels and a former member of the Turkish foreign service.

Contained within this lengthy working paper is Ülgen’s discussion of the impact of President Biden’s statement of April 23, 2021. Ülgen’s overall policy discussion and recommendations are beyond the scope of this discussion. They are summarized by Carnegie Europe thusly: “To fix their troubled relationship, the United States and Turkey should take gradual, concrete steps that build confidence and focus on common agendas.” As an analyst, he is entitled to his views and to share his perspective.

However, when Ülgen briefly provides historical background for the discussion of what he calls “the Armenian Question” he defaults to repeating lines from Turkey’s official denialist script. This may be expected from a career Turkish foreign service officer—indeed, it may be part of the job description; but it ought not to be acceptable from a Carnegie Europe-certified expert.

We must be clear about what denial of the Armenian Genocide is. It has shifted from an untenable position of total denial—no Armenians died, it is all a fabrication—to acknowledging and perhaps even expressing regret for the loss of Armenian lives during a time of general suffering but rejecting the existence of a coordinated effort to destroy Ottoman Armenian existence and thus denying the applicability of the term genocide. The shift has occurred not because the Turkish state is moving towards recognition of the Genocide but because it has found that “softer” denial is actually more effective. As Jennifer Dixon has argued, “while the narrative shifted to acknowledge some basic facts about the genocide, Turkish officials simultaneously took steps to more effectively defend core elements of the state’s narrative. Consequently, movement in the direction of acknowledgement was accompanied by the continued—and arguably strengthened—rejection of the label ‘genocide.’”¹²  What all styles of denial have in common is the repudiation of the extensive documentation and scholarship on the Armenian Genocide.

Ülgen’s use of the phrase “Armenian Question” is in itself telling. In historical discourse, the Armenian Question refers to the international debate between approximately 1878 (the end of the Russo-Turkish War) and World War I over the treatment of the Armenians in the Ottoman Empire. In more recent parlance, of which Ülgen’s use is an example, the phrase stands for the so-called debate over how to describe and characterize “the events of 1915.” The Ottoman and then Turkish Republican solution to the historical Armenian Question ultimately was to render it moot through genocide. The Turkish state’s answer to the latter-day “Armenian Question” is the eradication of historical facts—or at least demoting them to the status of opinions, much as Arendt described.

Ülgen’s presentation exemplifies the more sophisticated end of the genocide denial continuum that has emerged over the last three decades, which acknowledges the tragic loss of Armenian lives but insists that the entire topic is fundamentally controversial and reducible to a he said/she said dispute between two sides: “Turks” and “Armenians.”

“The proper characterization of the large-scale massacres committed against the Armenians under Ottoman rule remains controversial to this day,” Ülgen asserts, without explaining the origin of this spurious “controversy”—more than a century of Ottoman and Turkish denial—or conveying the lack of controversy surrounding the characterization of the Genocide among experts. The suggestion that there is no consensus on the issue would be news to the International Association of Genocide Scholars, which has unanimously recognized the Armenian Genocide and called on the government of Turkey to end its denial campaign.¹³ 

Consistent with his professional background in the Turkish foreign service, he provides a distorted thumbnail sketch of the Armenian Genocide: 

Beginning in 1915, the Ottoman leadership began to arrest, kill, deport, and forcibly resettle the empire’s Armenian minority, in order to quash potential resistance or independence movements among the Armenian population. Armenians claim that these events amount to genocide. Turks, in return, claim that it was a forced relocation under the conditions of war, which ended tragically.

Ülgen has put forward a historical narrative not fundamentally different than that offered by the Ottoman Empire as the Armenian Genocide unfolded and then by the Turkish state and its genocide-denying apologists: the Ottoman leadership acted reasonably to counter a legitimate threat represented by its Armenian population. The end result may have been tragic, but Armenians brought it on themselves. It was not genocide, and it is only Armenians who claim that it was. Furthermore, “Turks,” which presumably means all Turks, claim otherwise.  There are no discernible facts: merely competing “claims.”

Such an account is indistinguishable from the current official narrative by the Turkish Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which states that “the Ottoman Government ordered in 1915 the Armenian population residing in or near the war zone to be relocated to the southern Ottoman provinces away from the supply routes and army transport lines on the way of the advancing Russian army. Some Armenians living away from the front, yet were reported or suspected to be involved in collaboration, were also included in mandatory transfer.”  It also notes, with what is perhaps meant to be exemplary sensitivity, that “Loss of life, regardless of numbers and regardless of possible guilt on the part of the victims, is tragic and must be remembered.”¹⁴

The genocidal intent of the Ottoman authorities and the genocidal consequences of their actions are amply documented and described in a large body of scholarship. That Ülgen never mentions the existence of such materials does not speak well for his status as a Carnegie Europe expert. Indeed, the only time he acknowledges the concept of “a consensus within the academic community about the nature of these events,” is to question its existence. Such an approach is in keeping with the arguments made by extreme nationalist Doğu Perinçek (supported by the Turkish government) before the European Court of Human Rights, in defense of Perinçek’s right to deny the Armenian Genocide, which he had called “an international lie.”¹⁵

Perinçek and Ülgen embody the full spectrum of Turkey’s denial of the Armenian Genocide. The former is outlandish, aggressive and deliberately offensive. The latter is suave, polished and steeped in the language of Davos diplomacy. They seem to be polar opposites. Yet they approach “the Armenian Question” with the same goal—to deny the factuality of the Genocide.

Ülgen recounts the Turkish government’s reaction to international recognitions of the Armenian Genocide, stating that “it regards many of them as politically motivated,” and that “many Turks believe that the West was singularly interested in the fate of Christian Armenians but totally aloof to the large-scale tragedies that affected Muslim Turks in the same period.”

It is apparent that, although he declines to say so, these staples of Turkey’s denialist narrative which Ülgen presents as representing the positions of “the Turkish government” and of “many Turks” are also his own views.

Following President Biden’s April 23, 2021, statement, Ülgen took to Twitter to express his disapproval, complaining: “The reason why Turkish people are reactive to Western pontification about the events of 1915 is that these statements are singularly focused on the fate of Christian Armenians. And include no empathy with the Muslim Turks who also perished in great numbers.”¹⁶

He also repeated via Twitter the counter-statement issued by the Istanbul-based Centre for Economics and Foreign Policy Studies (EDAM), of which he is the chairman.¹⁷  Although EDAM is, purportedly, an independent entity, on this subject its position and the position of the Turkish state are identical. The statement reads, in part:

US President Biden’s remarks yesterday on the qualification of the tragic events of 1915 as a genocide are fully in contradiction with these norms of responsible statecraft. A head of state should not have passed judgment on this controversial period of history in such blatant disregard to the principles of international law. In addition, these remarks are likely to undermine many ongoing positive dynamics that would have helped to reach a better understanding of this large scale tragedy. Over the past years, the Turkish government has recognized the enormity of the human suffering caused by the fateful decisions of the Ottoman leadership in 1915. Ankara has also expressed its regrets for the consequences of these actions. Secondly at present Turkish society is having a debate on the nature of these atrocities. International pressure can only stifle this domestic debate. It is up to the citizens of Turkey to freely shape their opinions. The cause of freedom of expression will not be served by such international pontifications.¹⁸

We do not know if Ülgen was the author of this statement, but his Twitter feed would suggest that he regarded the statement as conveying his own thoughts. At any rate, the ideas expressed by EDAM are entirely consistent with Ülgen’s own presentation: facts as such are not part of the discussion, only a “debate” and “opinions.”

Ülgen’s Twitter feed and the EDAM statement are part of the public record.  Nevertheless, Carnegie Europe granted him space to present his denial in the guise of expert policy analysis.

Some have previously expressed frustration with Carnegie Europe’s highly problematic writings on matters relating to Armenia, Turkey and the Armenian Genocide, and its reflexive and inadequate response when criticisms have been offered.¹⁹ Ülgen’s work is significantly worse still with its uncritical adoption of official Turkey’s language of genocide denial.

While the article carries the caveat that “Carnegie does not take institutional positions on public policy issues; the views represented herein are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of Carnegie, its staff, or its trustees,” that does not grant it carte blanche to irresponsibly disseminate counter-factual state propaganda. An organization with Carnegie Europe’s reputation ought to be capable of distinguishing facts from fiction, history from state propaganda.

An Exercise in Moral Hubris and Missing the Elephant in the Room

Hans Gutbrod and David Wood’s “Turkey Will Never Recognize the Armenian Genocide” is a remarkable exercise in moral hubris as the authors dispense their bromides and presume to lecture Armenians on how they should “commemorate the past in an ethical manner.” What is most noteworthy about the piece are its elephant-in-the-room-sized omissions which inevitably skew the discussion the authors are attempting to engage in.

The authors, who are professors at Ilia State University in Tbilisi, Georgia, and Seton Hall University in New Jersey, respectively, propose to address “the moral dimensions of an Armenia-Turkey détente,” warning that “a focus on achieving justice alone—through unilateral action or external arbitration—may provide a sense of validation to victims, but it can also fuel resentment, sour relationships, and lead to future violence.” They argue that “the Armenian and Turkish governments should work to reframe the Armenian genocide—and the wider suffering that accompanied the downfall of the Ottoman Empire—as a shared history” and even recommend that “Washington could fund research into Turkish and Armenian sentiment on the Armenian genocide to explore the contours of belief in more depth to transcend the ongoing standoff.”

On one point, at least, I am fully in agreement with the authors: Turkey will likely never recognize the Armenian Genocide; at least, it is hard to imagine that day coming. They are mistaken, though, in asserting that the only point of international efforts to gain recognition of the Armenian Genocide is to compel Turkey to do likewise. As a citizen of the United States, I do not think it is unreasonable to want the stance of my government to reflect the reality of the history of the Armenian Genocide, as well as other historical realities, and not to aid and abet Turkey’s denial.

Efforts to gain international recognition, while not necessarily an end in themselves, usefully highlight the absurdity of Turkey’s denialist stance. Why is that useful?  Because—and it is simply incomprehensible that the authors do not mention this important fact—Turkey not only does not recognize the Armenian Genocide but also it actively, vehemently, and aggressively denies it; and not just within its own borders but also abroad, wherever and whenever possible, in a multitude of ways.

There is a significant body of scholarship as well as general commentary dating back to the 1970s on the topic of Turkish denial of the Armenian Genocide. It is hard to believe that two serious-minded scholars could be unaware of this or, if aware, why they chose to omit mention of it. Likewise, it is difficult to see how a discussion of how to “commemorate the past in an ethical manner” can occur without taking the issue of Turkey’s denial into account. Such omissions and lapses do great harm to the credibility of their presentation.

Furthermore, the authors fail to take into account the vast power discrepancy between the two nations, both historically and currently. Turkey, with its huge population and military capacity, has for some three decades imposed a blockade on Armenia; the tiny remaining Armenian population in Turkey has lived in constant fear of discrimination or violence for a century; and Ankara, at minimum, was Azerbaijan’s indispensable ally and provider of weapons for its war of aggression against Armenians in 2020. These facts are not mentioned by the authors. While they rightly decry the “petty triumphalism of Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev” following the war, no mention is made of Ankara’s own “petty triumphalism.”²⁰

Gutbrod and Wood call on Armenians and Turks, or perhaps Armenia and Turkey, to “reconcile.” Reconciliation implies a restoration of friendly relations after a dispute. While, historically, there was not always an intractable state of bloody conflict between Armenians and Turks, neither was there a state of relations at an earlier time—say, prior to the Armenian Genocide—which it would be reasonable to expect Armenians to want to restore.

The entire discourse of “Turkish-Armenian reconciliation,” as it has been framed mainly by European and American policy makers, and never more so than in Gutbrod and Wood’s presentation, positively reeks of first-world paternalism. As a white American, I would not have the temerity to call on Native Americans or African Americans to set aside seeking justice in order to “reconcile” with white Americans or to urge them to focus instead on highlighting the many good white people who opposed slavery or the annihilation of the indigenous population.

Indeed, such an analogy is not strong enough. More apt might be counseling Native Americans or African Americans to seek reconciliation with white Americans while the government openly and unapologetically denies its historical crimes and embraces white supremacism and neo-colonialism (a scenario which is, alas, not as fanciful as one might wish) or urging Jews to reconcile with a Germany that still denied the Holocaust.  Such recommendations would be, one hopes, dismissed out of hand and seen as what they are: attempts to solve problems by coercing a victim group into abandoning its rights.

All too often we have seen the language of reconciliation deployed in the service of denial by stronger parties and the use of a so-called “reconciliation process” as a tool to defer any proper recognition of or redress for historical crimes. An insistence on the facts of the Armenian Genocide—by scholars, by activists, by governments—is seen as counterproductive, if not an act of aggression. That is, reconciliation is deployed as one more weapon to beat back acknowledgement of the historical record and consequences that might arise from such an acknowledgement, and a never-ending “process” fosters the illusion of forward progress.²¹ The dangling carrot of “Turkish-Armenian reconciliation” has become a version of the cruel ploy pithily articulated by Ralph Ellison to encapsulate the African-American experience in his novel Invisible Man: “Keep This N—– Boy Running.”

A secondary sense of “reconciliation” is the process of bringing into harmony two different ideas in such a way that they are compatible with each other. To that end, we might ask: “Is there any way to reconcile the Turkish state’s narrative of ‘the events of 1915’ with the historical record?”—for this appears to be what Gutbrod and Wood have in mind by “refram[ing] the Armenian genocide—and the wider suffering that accompanied the downfall of the Ottoman Empire—as a shared history.”  Even a casual reading of Turkey’s official historiography and the work of those who promote it abroad must lead to answering this question in the negative. The only way forward is for Turkey to enter into the world of historical facts rather than state-manufactured historical fiction. Gutbrod and Wood’s recommendations do not point in that direction.

What is needed is an entirely new Armenian-Turkish relationship founded on the realities of history and based on equality that grants redress for previous wrongs to the maximum extent possible. This does not appear to be what Gutbrod and Wood are advocating, nor does it appear to be a likely prospect given the political realities on the ground. Unfortunately, by calling for a “redescription” of history “that various sides can live with” and suggesting that an inconvenient genocidal history can simply be “reframed,” they are granting Turkey license to continue its efforts to rewrite history and victimize Armenians.

Each Rock Has Two Names, But It Is Still a Rock

In “Each Rock Has Two Names” Ghaith Abdul-Ahad provides an uneven mixture of insightful commentary, tenuous arguments, and false equivalences about the Armenia-Azerbaijan conflict. Painting with a broad brush, he states that “in both Armenia and Azerbaijan, writers constructed an ethnonational narrative that aspired to negate the existence of the other country, or at least to assign it the role of newcomer in the region.” The comparison, and the equation that it suggests, is fundamentally flawed.

While some historians in Armenia have indeed written problematic “ethnonational narratives” which warrant criticism, they have not, for example, systematically expunged references to Azerbaijan and Azerbaijanis from republished historical sources, in stark contrast with Azerbaijani academicians, who have excised Armenia and Armenians from such publications for several decades²² even as thousands of Armenian historical monuments have been destroyed within Azerbaijan. Criticism of the work of Armenian historians is certainly fair game—and calls for specifics rather than generalities—but the two cases are not comparable in any meaningful way.

Presumably by way of advancing this critique, Abdul-Ahad states that “Armenian writers pointed to Armenian churches and monasteries in Karabakh as proof of an uninterrupted presence in the area” and “dismissed the term ‘Azerbaijan’ as a modern political label.” But it is not only “Armenian writers” who have noted the ancient and uninterrupted Armenian presence in the area; it is not an “ethnonational” assertion nor an opinion but is simply a fact of which any historian or expert on the region must surely be aware. The suggestion that pointing out the obvious and indisputable fact of the evidence for ancient and uninterrupted Armenian presence in Nagorno-Karabakh (Artsakh) is “nationalistic” is no more helpful or true than saying that the argument that vaccinations help combat Covid-19 is “liberal.”

Similarly, the use of the name “Azerbaijan” for the area comprising the current-day state of that name (as opposed to the region of Iran south of the Arax/Aras River that has been known as Azerbaijan from time out of mind) does not pre-date 1918. This is essentially a historically accurate statement, whether or not it is also uttered by nationalists.

Abdul-Ahad rightly identifies as “specious” the elaborate and preposterous fiction of Azerbaijani historians that modern Armenians “had erased ancient inscriptions and claimed monuments as their own.” Yet the unwarranted conclusion he draws is that “two peoples could look at the same building and each see in it what they wanted to see”—a curious and unhelpful equating of (or inability to distinguish between) reality and fantasy. Surely there is a difference between Armenians (and non-Armenians) looking at Gandzasar cathedral and identifying it as an Armenian church and Azerbaijani assertions that it is actually a Caucasian Albanian (and thus proto-Azerbaijani) edifice. Equating these two “positions” is an absurdity and may suggest that the person making the equation is either incapable of or unwilling to distinguish history from state propaganda.

Finally, Abdul-Ahad and one of his sources, analyst Phil Gamaghelyan, present a decidedly problematic view of Armenia-Turkey-Azerbaijan relations. Abdul-Ahad writes: “At a time when Turkey itself was at last taking steps to acknowledge this part of its history—decriminalising discussion of the genocide, allowing books to be published addressing all aspects of the late Ottoman period, holding commemorations in Istanbul and Ankara—it was in Azerbaijan that denialism flourished.” It is true that genocide denialism in Azerbaijan has flourished; it goes hand in glove with the overall negation of any and all things related to Armenians. It is, however, absurd and insupportable to say that because a small number of courageous individuals in Turkey were addressing the Genocide and holding commemorations that “Turkey”—as a state—was “taking steps to acknowledge this part of its history.” It is, indeed, a form of denial to say, as Abdul-Ahad does, that “More recently, however, Turkey returned to a denialist position.” Turkey has never left its denialist position, even if some Turks have.

Additionally, Gamaghelyan refers to the dangerous “Armenian nationalist narrative that Azerbaijan and Turkey were one and the same.” But of course it is not “Armenian nationalists” who have formulated the idea of Turkey and Azerbaijan as “one nation, two states”: it is Azerbaijan and Turkey who have devised and embraced this description.²³ It is Azerbaijan and Turkey who put it into practice during the 44-day war of 2020, when “Turkey’s army-building capacity was clearly one of the leading factors contributing to Azerbaijan’s victory.”²⁴ It was Turkey’s President Recep Tayyip Erdogan and Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev who jointly celebrated the war’s outcome, which Aliyev called “an example of our unity, our brotherhood.”²⁵ The June 15 Shusha Declaration further cemented this—if further cementing was needed.²⁶

While Abdul-Ahad is right to look critically at how facts are used to advance various political (and perhaps nationalistic) agendas, be they Azerbaijani or Armenian, at key moments he fails to differentiate fact from fiction while doing so, presumably out of a desire to present a “balanced” picture.

Unpacking the Armenia-Azerbaijan conflict requires identifying the harmful roles played by nationalist narratives, but the process is not aided by placing fact and fiction on the same footing as Abdul-Ahad too often does. Each rock may have two names: but if one side calls the rock a rock and the other insists that the rock is actually a tree, can we not at least agree where the problem lies?

“A comprehensive overview of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict”?

In late 2022 an ostensibly scholarly book appeared, The Nagorno-Karabakh Conflict: Historical and Political Perspectives (Routledge, 2022), edited by M. Hakan Yavuz and Michael M. Gunter. Considerations of space preclude a lengthy discussion of the ongoing contributions of Yavuz and Gunter to the denial of the Armenian Genocide; I have already done so elsewhere, as have others.²⁷ Suffice it to say that they have long been in the forefront of efforts to conjure an academic controversy about “the events of 1915.” It is this background, rather than any training in or expertise on the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, that appears to have placed them in a position to extend their reach to editing a volume on the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. The editors make the grandiose claim of providing “a comprehensive overview of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, the long-running dispute between Armenia and Azerbaijan over the Armenian-majority region of Azerbaijan.” Caveat emptor.

The editors provide a bathetic preemptive apologia as a preface, stating their deep sensitivity to the fact that the subject of the book is 

susceptible to the perception of bias and the arousal of strong feelings on both sides. Not only should bias be avoided, but so too its mere perception if at all possible. This is difficult because people, no matter how unbiased, can be perceived by others as being on “one side” or the other. Thus, the editors recognize that this is a subject that gives rise to strong feelings on both sides. They have done all they can to be even handed. Although they recognize that with some people perceptions of bias might still exist, they feel that any such views are ill-founded. Indeed, they believe that this volume will contribute to a better understanding of the entire situation.

In the ranks of overdetermined protestations of impartiality, this ranks with Gunter’s own almost comical assertion in the preface to his 2009 Armenian History and the Question of Genocide that “Given the ‘received wisdom’ on the Turkish-Armenian issue, some will argue this book is a Turkish apology. It is not!”

Such reassurances are far from convincing.

It will have to be the task of other writers and reviewers to unpack the historical distortions larded into the 452 pages of The Nagorno-Karabakh Conflict. For the purposes of this discussion, it will be enough to note that the book’s primary task of presenting an account of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict that aligns with Baku’s preferred narrative is fully compatible with the long-standing efforts of the editors (and at least some of the authors) to cast all possible doubt on the Armenian Genocide. The book is replete with references to “genocide” in scare quotes, the “so-called Armenian Genocide,” “genocide allegations,” “claims of genocide,” and so on, which are a “natural” and synergistic companion to the book’s main objective.

In fairness, one must note that co-editor Yavuz is not entirely a newcomer to the world of pro-Azerbaijan, anti-Armenia activity. Of particular note in this regard is a special issue of the Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs (or JMMA, vol. 32, no. 2, June 2012) co-guest-edited by Adil Baguirov and Umut Uzer. According to the journal’s editor-in-chief Saleha S. Mahmood: 

When we were approached with a proposal to dedicate a Special Issue of JMMA to one of the world’s ongoing, unresolved and perhaps now a ‘forgotten’ conflict, that of Nagorno Karabakh in the Caucasus, I was not quite sure if we can have the richness and variety in form and content that characterizes each issue of our Journal. Encouraged by Associate Editor, M. Hakan Yavuz, who connected us with the two guest editors of the proposed issue, Umut Uzer and Adil Baguirov, we took on this challenge.

Mahmood is effusive in his praise of the issue’s articles, concluding that they “all make for fascinating reading,” which is true but probably not in the sense that he means it.²⁸

Adil Baguirov not only guest edited the issue but also authored the first article, extending traditional denialist rhetoric to a more recent issue in “Nagorno-Karabakh: Competing Legal, Historic and Economic Claims in Political, Academic and Media Discourses.” The guest editors declare at the outset that “[i]t is clearly evident that the NK conflict has been generally misunderstood, ignored or distorted as well as understudied in academic circles as well as exploited for political purposes.” It soon becomes clear that what they mean by this is that the NK conflict has been generally misunderstood, ignored or distorted as well as understudied in academic circles as well as exploited for political purposes by Armenians.

Baguirov is the co-founder of an entity known as the Karabakh Foundation (as is acknowledged in his contributor bio), of which JMMA Associate Editor M. Hakan Yavuz is also the only listed member of the Board of Trustees and its Chairman Pro Tempore (which is not acknowledged anywhere in the issue).²⁹

According to a lengthy exposé by the Organized Crime and Corruption Reporting Project, which dubbed Baguirov “Baku’s Man in America,” he is “known to have close ties to President Aliyev” and was the recipient of funds from the “Azerbaijani laundromat,” which is “a set of intertwined bank accounts used as a slush fund by the country’s elite to buy luxury goods, pay off European politicians, and launder money” in order to “influence American policy in the interest of Azerbaijan.”³⁰

Questionable Origins of an Oxford Centre

There seems little doubt that Azerbaijan, emboldened by its military victory and fueled by petro-dollars, will increasingly seek to purchase the kind of academic semi-credibility that Turkey has for decades sought through the cultivation of scholars willing to present its state narrative as historical fact or at least worthy of consideration as such.³¹ Even before the war, the 2018 establishment at the University of Oxford of the Nizami Ganjavi Centre through a £10 million donation from a mysterious entity called the British Foundation for the Study of Azerbaijan and the Caucasus (BFSAC), a UK-based foundation with intimate ties to the sister-in-law of Azerbaijan’s dictator Ilham Aliyev, was an indication that Azerbaijan recognized the value of investing in scholarship that reflects favorably on a state hungry for legitimacy.

A 2021 Times Higher Education report on the Ganjavi Centre contained numerous revelations that raised concerns that the Centre may be less than purely academic, among them that “The donation [that established the Centre] was brokered by Nargiz Pashayeva, sister-in-law of President Ilham Aliyev, who since 2003 has ruled Azerbaijan amid accusations of torture, the jailing of political opponents and corruption” and “A member of the family of Azerbaijan’s autocratic ruler [i.e., Nargiz Pashayeva] sits on the board of a University of Oxford research centre that studies the country, raising conflict of interest concerns for academics.”³²

The same article quotes Prof. Robert Hoyland, former head of the Ganjavi Centre, as stating that the gift that created the Centre came from “a donor based in Europe” and “was not made to or from BFSAC, but to Oxford University directly, and the deed of gift was made between those two parties.” Hoyland’s assertion flatly contradicts Oxford’s own narrative of the creation and funding of the Ganjavi Centre, and renders the claim of the unnamed Oxford spokesman quoted in Times Higher Education that the university “was made aware of the original source of funds for this gift, which does not come from a government” far from reassuring, particularly in light of the skill with which Azerbaijan’s rulers have hidden the origin of the wealth they have spread around the United Kingdom, as has been extensively documented and reported.³³

Indeed, even if Oxford’s own prior statements are correct and the BFSAC was the source of the £10 million gift, given the central role played by Nargiz Pashayeva in the Foundation, the absence of information on where it obtained such a large amount of money, and the comments of Azerbaijan’s ambassador to the UK that the incorporation of the Nizami Ganjavi Centre was one of the “tangible achievements” of his seven-year tenure, there would still be crucial questions that must be answered.³⁴

Rewriting the Past to Dictate the Future

There is a famous, perhaps apocryphal story about French Prime Minister Georges Clemenceau, who, when asked what future historians will think about the problem of who was responsible for starting World War I, is said to have responded, “This I don’t know. But I know for certain that they will not say Belgium invaded Germany.”

Commenting on this Clemenceau anecdote, Hannah Arendt wrote that “considerably more than the whims of historians would be needed to eliminate from the record the fact that on the night of August 4, 1914, German troops crossed the frontier of Belgium; it would require no less than a power monopoly over the entire civilized world. But such a power monopoly is far from being inconceivable, and it is not difficult to imagine what the fate of factual truth would be if power interests, national or social, had the last say in these matters.”³⁵ Echoing John Adams, she writes: “Facts assert themselves by being stubborn, and their fragility is oddly combined with great resiliency.”

But facts need help to assert themselves. Within Turkey and Azerbaijan, the kind of “power monopoly” Arendt finds “far from being inconceivable” is a reality. Turkey, Azerbaijan and their hirelings continue their well-funded efforts to overwrite the historical record with their “alternative fact” account of the Ottoman extermination of the Armenians, of the history of Artsakh/Nagorno-Karabakh and of the region generally. Although their efforts are widely rejected in most—but not, alas, all—international academic circles, in the less rigorous realms of journalism and think tanks, their efforts are more profitable. With Armenia in a position of abject vulnerability as a result of the 44-day war and the subsequent Azeri incursion into Armenia proper, it is increasingly clear that powerful forces are lining up not only to dictate Armenia’s future but also its past.

Endnotes:

¹ I would like to thank Khatchig Mouradian who offered helpful comments and suggestions on this article and arranged a talk comprising an early version of it at Columbia University in 2018.

²  For the full text of Adams’ argument for the defense, see The Adams Papers, Legal Papers of John Adams, vol. 3, Cases 63 and 64: The Boston Massacre Trials, ed. L. Kinvin Wroth and Hiller B. Zobel (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1965), pp. 242–270.

³ Peter Baehr, ed., The Portable Hannah Arendt (New York: Penguin Books, 2000), p. 552. The essay was originally published in The New Yorker, February 25, 1967.

⁴ See, for example, Michael Vinson Williams, Medgar Evers: Mississippi Martyr (Little Rock: Univ. of Arkansas Press, 2013), p. 237.

⁵  See Simon Maghakyan and Sarah Pickman, “A Regime Conceals Its Erasure of Indigenous Armenian Culture,” at https://hyperallergic.com/482353/a-regime-conceals-its-erasure-of-indigenous-armenian-culture/.

⁶  See, for example, the statement by Amnesty International on Feb. 9, 2023, https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2023/02/azerbaijan-blockade-of-lachin-corridor-putting-thousands-of-lives-in-peril-must-be-immediately-lifted/.

⁷ I differentiate Biden’s statement from the oft-cited 1981 Proclamation 4838 of April 22, 1981, “Days of Remembrance of Victims of the Holocaust,” made by Pres. Ronald Reagan, which stated that “the genocide of the Armenians before it, and the genocide of the Cambodians which followed it—and like too many other such persecutions of too many other peoples—the lessons of the Holocaust must never be forgotten.”

⁸  The texts of all relevant resolutions and statements may be found at https://www.armenian-genocide.org/affirmation.html. 

⁹ On Turkey’s role in the 2020 war, see for example Haldun Yalçınkaya, “Turkey’s Overlooked Role in the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War,” arguing that “Turkey’s most significant contribution to Azerbaijan’s victory in the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War was neither the drones it supplied nor the military advisors it allegedly provided, but three decades of meticulous army building” (https://www.gmfus.org/news/turkeys-overlooked-role-second-nagorno-karabakh-war). However, see also Ece Toksabay, “Turkish arms sales to Azerbaijan surged before Nagorno-Karabakh fighting” (https://www.reuters.com/article/us-armenia-azerbaijan-turkey-arms/turkish-arms-sales-to-azerbaijan-surged-before-nagorno-karabakh-fighting-idUSKBN26Z237.  The fact is that Azerbaijan’s military victory was made possible by both Turkish military hardware and expertise.

¹⁰ Bedross Der Matossian, “Ambivalence to Things Armenian in Middle Eastern Studies and the War on Artsakh in 2020,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 54.3 (August 2022), p. 534.

¹¹  For Ülgen, see https://carnegieeurope.eu/2021/07/26/redefining-u.s.-turkey-relationship-pub-85016; for Gutbrod and Wood, see https://foreignpolicy.com/2021/06/14/armenia-turkey-genocide-ottoman-empire-history-rapprochement-diplomacy-public-opinion/; for Abdul-Ahad, see https://www.lrb.co.uk/the-paper/v43/n12/ghaith-abdul-ahad/each-rock-has-two-names.

¹²  Jennifer Dixon, Dark Pasts: Changing the State’s Story in Turkey and Japan (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2018), p. 11.

¹³ See “An Open Letter Concerning Historians Who Deny the Armenian Genocide: October 1, 2006,” https://genocidescholars.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/Scholars-Denying-Armenian-Genocide-.pdf. 

¹⁴ https://www.mfa.gov.tr/the-events-of-1915-and-the-turkish-armenian-controversy-over-history_-an-overview.en.mfa.

¹⁵ Incredibly, the court found that such a statement “did not amount to advocacy of hatred or intolerance.”  See https://globalfreedomofexpression.columbia.edu/cases/ecthr-perincek-v-switzerland-no-2751008-2013/.

¹⁶  https://twitter.com/sinanulgen1/status/1386378244048441344?lang=en.

¹⁷  See https://edam.org.tr/en/executive-and-supervisory-board/.  According to the website, “EDAM does not take institutional positions on public policy issues, therefore the views published herein, in order to promote debate on topics of interest to EDAM, are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of EDAM.”  Yet the statement on Biden’s declaration was made by EDAM as an institution. Perhaps denial of the Armenian Genocide is not a “public policy issue”?

¹⁸  https://edam.org.tr/en/edam-statement-on-us-president-joe-bidens-declaration-about-the-events-of-1915/.

¹⁹ See “Carnegie Europe and Thomas de Waal under critique,” at http://www.agos.com.tr/en/article/25781/carnegie-europe-and-thomas-de-waal-under-critique and https://drive.google.com/file/d/1r0B2KxaQINdG-qO-1IsdJChFEovHxSsj/view. 

²⁰  “We are here today to… celebrate this glorious victory.”  See “In Azerbaijan, Erdogan calls for new Armenian leadership,” https://www.dw.com/en/erdogan-praises-azerbaijans-glorious-victory-calls-for-regime-change-in-armenia/a-55898699.

²¹  The absurdity of emphasizing the “reconciliation process” calls to my mind Bob Dylan’s response when asked if “it’s pointless to dedicate yourself to the cause of peace and racial equality.”  He replied: “Not pointless to dedicate yourself to peace and racial equality, but rather, it’s pointless to dedicate yourself to the cause; that’s really pointless. … To say ‘cause of peace’ is just like saying ‘hunk of butter.’ I mean, how can you listen to anybody who wants you to believe he’s dedicated to the hunk and not to the butter?” Quoted in Bob Dylan: The Essential Interviews (New York: Wenner Books, 2006), p. 105.

²² On these Azerbaijani efforts see, inter alia, George Bournoutian, “Rewriting History: Recent Azeri Alterations of Primary Sources Dealing with Karabakh,” Journal of the Society for Armenian Studies 6 (1992-1993), pp. 185-90; “The Politics of Demography: Misuse of Sources on the Armenian Population of Mountainous Karabakh,” Journal of the Society for Armenian Studies 9 (1996-1997), pp. 99-103.

²³ See, for example, “’One nation, two states’ on display as Erdogan visits Azerbaijan for Karabakh victory parade.” https://www.france24.com/en/asia-pacific/20201210-one-nation-two-states-on-display-as-erdogan-visits-azerbaijan-for-karabakh-victory-parade.

²⁴  https://www.gmfus.org/news/turkeys-overlooked-role-second-nagorno-karabakh-war.

²⁵  https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2020/12/10/azerbaijan-celebrates-nagorno-karabakh-victory-erdogan-attends.

²⁶ https://coe.mfa.gov.az/en/news/3509/shusha-declaration-on-allied-relations-between-the-republic-of-azerbaijan-and-the-republic-of-turkey. The declaration states, inter alia, “Emphasizing that the wise sayings of the founder of the Republic of Turkey, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, and the national leader of the Azerbaijani people, Heydar Aliyev, ‘The joy of Azerbaijan is our joy and its sorrow is ours too’ and ‘One nation, two states’, are regarded as the national and spiritual heritage of our peoples.”

²⁷ See Marc A. Mamigonian, “Academic Denial of the Armenian Genocide,” Genocide Studies International 9.1 (Spring 2015), pp. 61–82.  For important additional discussion see Richard G. Hovannisian, “Denial of the Armenian Genocide 100 Years Later: The New Practitioners and Their Trade,” in Genocide Studies International 9.2 (Fall 2015), pp. 228–247; Keith D. Watenpaugh, “A Response to Michael Gunter’s Review of The Armenian Massacres in Ottoman Turkey: A Disputed Genocide,” in IJMES 39.3; Israel Charny, “Review of Michael M. Gunter, Armenian History and the Question of Genocide,” in International Journal of Armenian Genocide Studies 1.1, pp. 88-93.

²⁸ Saleha S. Mahmood, “A Word About Ourselves,” JMMA 32.2 (June 2012), no page number. It is also worth noting that, since around 2006, articles that skew to Turkey’s denialist narrative and book reviews praising works that deny or cast doubt upon the Armenian Genocide began appearing regularly in the pages of JMMA, later to be joined by writings uncritically supportive of Azerbaijan. This trend at JMMA roughly corresponds with the commencement of the modern era of academic denial of the Armenian Genocide that was inaugurated with the appearance of Guenter Lewy’s The Armenian Massacres in Ottoman Turkey: A Disputed Genocide (University of Utah Press, 2005), which was published through the efforts of M. Hakan Yavuz, the journal’s book review editor. In a marvelous example of vertical integration, Yavuz, the individual who arranged for the publication of Lewy’s book in the first place, is the same individual in a position to have it reviewed favorably in JMMA by Yücel Güçlü, a career foreign service employee of the Turkish Foreign Ministry whose own genocide denying book Armenians and the Allies in Cilicia, 1914–1923, would, in turn, be published by the University of Utah Press in 2012. All in all, since 2006 not a single work presenting the Armenian Genocide as a historical fact has been reviewed favorably, and not a single work attempting to deny the “genocide allegations” has been reviewed unfavorably.  One wonders if any other issue has received as consistent treatment by this journal which professes to provide “a forum for frank but responsible discussion of issues relating to the life of Muslims in non-Muslim societies.”

²⁹  In a happy coincidence, Baguirov is married to the daughter of ex-Turkish ambassador to the US, architect of modern Turkish denial in the US, and advisor to Hakan Yavuz’s Utah Turkish Studies Project, Šukru Elekdağ.

³⁰ Jonny Wrate, “Baku’s Man in America,” online at https://www.occrp.org/en/azerbaijanilaundromat/bakus-man-in-america. 

31 This is not to suggest that such efforts have not been made before now. Most notorious, perhaps, was Harvard’s Caspian Studies Program, funded “through a $1 million grant from the US Azerbaijan Chamber of Commerce and a consortium of oil and gas companies led by Exxon, Mobil, and Chevron, all of which had commercial interests in the region,” and headed by Brenda Shaffer. For detailed exposés see https://www.occrp.org/en/corruptistan/azerbaijan/2015/06/22/profile-of-an-undercover-lobbyist-for-azerbaijan.en.html and https://www.rferl.org/a/azerbaijan-lobbying-western-media-brenda-shaffer/26592287.html.  

³² On the Ganjavi Centre, see https://www.timeshighereducation.com/news/concern-over-azerbaijan-ruling-family-influence-oxford-centre.

³³ See, for example, https://www.transparency.org.uk/azerbaijan-laundromat-NCA-latest-news-Westminster-Magistrates-Court.

³⁴ As far as we can determine, the BFSAC has ceased to exist; see https://register-of-charities.charitycommission.gov.uk/charity-search/-/charity-details/5080778/governance.  The comments of Azerbaijani Ambassador to the United Kingdom Tahir Taghizadeh can be found at https://aze.media/diplomat-on-the-line-ambassador-tahir-taghizadehs-seven-years-in-london/. 

³⁵  The Portable Hannah Arendt, pp. 554, 570.

Author information

Marc Mamigonian

Marc A. Mamigonian is the director of Academic Affairs of the National
Association for Armenian Studies and Research (NAASR).

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The post “Facts are Stubborn Things”: How Denial Turns Facts Into Opinions and Erodes Truth appeared first on The Armenian Weekly.

Special Issue: Genocide Education for the 21st Century
The Armenian Weekly, April 2023

The Armenian Genocide has always been at the forefront of Armenian consciousness and will continue to be as long as upcoming generations carry the torch of history, demand justice and work to prevent present-day injustices against Armenia and Artsakh (Nagorno Karabagh).  

Armenia is facing an existential threat just as it did in 1915. The unprovoked attacks on innocent Armenians of Artsakh, the blockade of Artsakh by Azerbaijan, and recently, attacks on the Republic of Armenia, are nothing more than the continuation of the Armenian Genocide over a hundred years ago. The need to educate students everywhere is imperative.  

In recent years, some public school districts have recognized the importance of educating students on the topic of genocide, at times as part of their history classes, and in other instances, as a full-semester course on the topic. While a few genocides are well known to the public, the Armenian Genocide has traditionally been marginalized in Michigan. When taught in all public schools, there are vital lessons that can be learned from studying the Armenian Genocide, the first major genocide of the 20th century, while for Armenians, the history and memory of those who perished will be engraved forever.

The First Step

Every April 24, the Armenian community commemorates the Genocide with a remembrance proclamation from the state of Michigan; but in 2002, it was formalized through legislation as “Armenian Genocide Remembrance Days, Act 558 of 2002” signed into law by Governor John Engler.

“Section 435-281 Michigan days of remembrance of the Armenian genocide of 1915-1923.”

Sec. 1

“The legislature declares that April 24 of each year shall be the Michigan day of remembrance of the Armenian genocide of 1915-1923, and that the period beginning on the Sunday before that day through the following Sunday shall be the days of remembrance in this state, in memory of the victims of the genocide, and in honor of the survivors.”

Recognition of the Armenian Genocide by the state of Michigan was cemented into law.

Armenian Genocide Education Becomes Law

In 2014-2015 the Michigan chapter of the Armenian National Committee of American (ANCA) had pursued an aggressive campaign to include the Armenian Genocide in the Genocide and Holocaust Education Bill that was to be proposed in the Michigan House of Representatives. Through countless meetings, knocking on every legislator’s door, letter writing campaigns and phone banks, every legislator was briefed and asked to support the inclusion of the Armenian Genocide in the Genocide and Holocaust Education Bill.  Although the initial bill never made it to the floor before the Michigan House of Representatives ended its session, a new, identical bill was proposed the following year. The ANCA and other Armenian groups and organizations who were working to the same end joined forces in 2016 as a united front, advocating for Armenian Genocide education with the help of a lobbyist, an energized grassroots effort from the community, and this time, against the powerful Turkish lobby. Despite extreme challenges the second time around, the Armenian and Jewish communities successfully pushed the bill through.

In 2016, Governor Rick Snyder signed into law HB4493, the Michigan Genocide and Holocaust Education Bill. The Armenian Genocide and the Holocaust, as the only two genocides recognized by law in the state of Michigan, are named specifically. The new law, MCL 380.1168, requires a minimum of six hours of instruction from the eighth through 12th grade. 

With the passing of the law came responsibility. The governor appointed five members from the Armenian community to serve on the Governor’s Council on Genocide and Holocaust Education, along with five members from the Jewish community and five nonaffiliated members, and charged them with the task of providing resources and the necessary tools for educators to teach specifically about the Armenian Genocide and the Holocaust.  

By this time, representatives from the Michigan ANCA and other community groups and organizations had joined together to form the Armenian Genocide Education Committee (AGEC), a non-profit (501c3) organization. The AGEC, as the community’s representative body, is responsible for securing inclusion and dissemination of all materials related to Armenian Genocide education in Michigan and to fundraise for this purpose. The term of the Michigan Governor’s Council on Genocide and Holocaust Education ended two years later with a resource website for educators, which continues to be a work in progress (mhge.org).

Armenian Genocide in the State Standards

Beginning in 2014, there were several attempts to revise the Michigan social studies standards to become more inclusive. In 2019, after much politicized tensions, the Michigan Board of Education approved the last version of the revised social studies standards. Prior to the final vote, the AGEC actively pursued inclusion of the Armenian Genocide in the appropriate sections by contacting key legislators, directly communicating with the standard writers and public speaking at town hall meetings. Hearing our voices, the writers amended the lapses in the standards, which was included in the final version under World History and Geography, Era 7, (Standard 7.2.6 Case Studies of Genocide and 7.2.1 WWI). It was purely by chance that the social studies standards were being revised and put to vote by the Michigan Board of Education following the end of the Governor’s Council term. This allowed the revised standards to reflect the new law and include the Armenian Genocide as a case study. 

Armenian Genocide Teacher Training in Michigan

The task of providing Armenian Genocide teacher-training workshops through Michigan Intermediate School Districts is a daunting task. The AGEC hosted several trainings, provided by The Genocide Education Project, but the pandemic slowed the process. It soon became evident that the work requires assistance from an experienced team of professionals in the field of education. The AGEC soon formed an advisory board, composed of district curriculum directors, superintendents and the CEO of a consulting and administrative services for school districts, to seek counsel on this new endeavor.

It also became evident that the work requires a team of educators and like-minded individuals to carry out the mission of reaching out to the various districts and to help organize teacher trainings throughout the state. Presently, the AGEC is in the process of forming such a team.

This team eventually will recruit and prepare a group of classroom speakers to be on call as available resources for teachers. The AGEC’s agenda includes the future establishment of a separate website exclusively about the Armenian Genocide and specifically designed for Michigan teachers with lesson plans aligned to Michigan’s social studies standards and local resources for teachers.  

There is great potential for further engagement with the public to educate them on the Armenian Genocide outside of schools. Utilizing public libraries, civic centers and public events to organize art and photography exhibitions, musical concerts, poetry readings, showing documentary films, essay contests and speaker series expands the audience base beyond the Armenian community and beyond classrooms, too. In turn, this will provide a better understanding of the present situation in Armenia and Artsakh, broadening our advocacy base beyond our small communities. These are some ideas for the future being considered by the AGEC of Michigan. Keeping alive the memory and history of the Armenian Genocide is crucial in understanding today’s reality, and with the lessons learned, it is imperative for securing the future of Armenia and Artsakh.

Author information

Ani Boghikian Kasparian

Ani Boghikian Kasparian is an active member of the Detroit Armenian community. From 2004 until the pandemic, she taught Western Armenian language at the University of Michigan-Dearborn and is affiliated with university 's Armenian Research Center. Boghikian Kasparian is a member of the Armenian Genocide Education Committee of Michigan and
president of Houshamadyan Educational Association, the US executive board of the Houshamadyan Project (Houshamadyan.org). She received a bachelor of arts degree double-majoring in sociology and psychology and a master of arts degree in teaching, both from the University of Michigan-Dearborn, and a master of arts in counseling from Oakland University-Rochester.

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Special Issue: Genocide Education for the 21st Century
The Armenian Weekly, April 2023

“You have to understand what caused genocide to happen. Or it will happen again.”
–Tim Walz

Teaching about genocide, particularly at the high school level, can be a daunting task. Educators are often reluctant to approach this highly sensitive topic due to the complexity the study of genocide encompasses. However, the complex nature of this issue is precisely why teaching genocide is so crucial.

In April 2022, after a decade of hard work and overcoming various obstacles, a comprehensive guide on teaching genocide to high school students was launched in the province of Quebec. The interactive guide entitled “Teaching about Genocide” is now available online in French (English to come in spring 2023), reaching over 310,000 students in 800 schools. 

Montrealer Heidi Berger, the daughter of a Holocaust survivor, is the driving force behind this guide. Over the years, in talking to students about the Shoah, she realized there was a profound degree of ignorance about facts surrounding the Holocaust. Berger was determined to bring significant change and help repair this lack of knowledge amongst high school students. In 2014, she created a non-profit organization called The Foundation for Genocide Education (FGE). The main mission of the FGE is to ensure that the history of genocide, as well as the steps leading up to this crime against humanity, are taught in high schools across Canada and the United States.

The “Teaching about Genocide” guide is the result of a collaboration between The Foundation for Genocide Education and the Quebec Education Ministry, the Montreal Holocaust Museum, and representatives of the various communities highlighted in the guide, including the Armenian National Committee of Canada (ANCC) and the Armenian National Committee of Quebec (ANCQ). 

Lead researchers who worked on the guide are Sivane Hirsch, Didactic Professor of Ethics from the Department of Education at Université du Québec à Trois-Rivières, and Sabrina Moisan, Professor of History Education in the Faculty of Education at Université de Sherbrooke.

The U.S. Millennial Holocaust Knowledge and Awareness Survey published in September 2020 revealed the extent of this ignorance. According to this survey, in the United States, 63 percent of young adults don’t know that six million Jews were killed in the Nazi Holocaust. In fact, 36 percent think the number was “two million or fewer.” Around one in ten respondents were not sure whether the Shoah happened at all or deny that it did. Most appalling of all is that 19 percent of millennials and zoomers in New York State believe that it was the Jews who caused the Holocaust. 

In the aftermath of such profoundly traumatic events as the Armenian Genocide and the Holocaust, educating current and future generations — using historical facts and survivor testimonials — is not only a pedagogically sound approach, but it is, first and foremost, an ethical obligation.

Educators in Quebec now have a comprehensive tool that will assist them in teaching about genocide. This guide on teaching genocide offers “a comparative, socio-historical and ethical approach” to the atrocities. “Teaching about Genocide” includes a series of case studies, a list of steps leading to genocide, teaching plans, reference documents and instructional videos. The guide also includes genocide survivor and descendent of survivor video testimonies. 

The guide defines the crime of genocide and methodically explains the various stages that have historically led to this crime using Gregory Stanton’s stages. Additionally, it provides thoroughly-reviewed case studies of nine genocides recognized by the United Nations (UN) and the Canadian government. These genocides are the First Nations Cultural Genocide (1876-1993), Herero and Nama Genocide (1904-1908), Armenian Genocide (1915-1923), Ukrainian Holodomor (1932-1933), Roma and the Sinti Genocide (1935-1945), Holocaust (1939-1945), Cambodian Genocide (1975-1979), Bosnian Genocide (1992-1995) and the Genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda (1994). 

The guide also contains a section entitled “Racism, Prevention and Justice.” Each genocide is presented in a similar manner, which enables educators and students to draw parallels between different events through a comparative approach in order to further develop their understanding of the genocidal process.

University professors, educators and community leaders were involved in reviewing the guide. Moreover, in order to ensure that the guide is utilized in an effective manner, training workshops are being offered to teachers. 

Board members of the Foundation for Genocide Education (FGE) representing the ANCC and ANCQ were involved in advocacy efforts in order to bring the community’s voice to the table. Furthermore, the ANCC and ANCQ formed an Academic Advisory Council comprised of historians and scholars specializing in the study of the Armenian Genocide. Their academic expertise and advice were indispensable during the process of developing the guide. 

High school is a critical period in terms of students forging their world views. Introducing students to the topic of genocide, and encouraging them to learn the facts and think critically around issues of mass human extermination, hate, racism and violence is imperative. This approach will allow youth to be better equipped to build a healthier way of living on both local and global scales.

Understanding the causes of systemic violence is the only way such crimes against others can be prevented. Remembering the names of the genocides is far from sufficient.  What is needed is to understand the causes linked to this complex phenomenon and the steps leading up to it. This requires a pedagogical approach that will ultimately activate students’ intellectual, emotional and ethical engagement. 

Given the increasingly polarized nature of political landscapes around the world and the rise of online hate, it is now, more than ever, urgent to invest in teaching genocide. Education remains the key to breaking the cycle of hatred which in its extreme forms can lead to genocide.

Author information

Lalai Manjikian

Dr. Lalai Manjikian is a humanities professor at Vanier College in Montreal. Her teaching and research interests are in the areas of immigration and refugee studies, media representations of migration, migrant narratives and diaspora studies. She is the author of Collective Memory and Home in the Diaspora: The Armenian Community in Montreal (2008). Lalai’s articles have been published in a number of newspapers and journals including The Armenian Weekly, Horizon Weekly, 100 Lives (The Aurora Prize), the Montreal Gazette, and Refuge. A former Birthright Armenia participant (2005), over the years, Lalai has been active in volunteering both within the Armenian community in Montreal and the local community at large, namely engaged in immigrant and refugee integration. She previously served as a qualitative researcher on the Armenian Diaspora Survey in Montreal. Lalai also serves as a board member for the Foundation for Genocide Education. She holds a PhD in Communication Studies from McGill University (2013).

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Special Issue: Genocide Education for the 21st Century
The Armenian Weekly, April 2023

My first encounter with Armenia and Artsakh happened in 1986 as an elementary school child in Jamaica. My sister was a history teacher and I was an inquisitive boy always wanting to discover things. I took one of her books and began to read and found a reference to Nagorno Karabakh during the Soviet era. I could not find it on the map, but I would later discover its importance and meaning to a people of long and noble history. 

December 2023 marks nearly two decades and over 60 presentations, lectures, visits and conversations during which I have advocated for and supported the just cause of reparations for the Armenian Genocide. It started serendipitously at a symposium held in Worcester, Massachusetts at (then) Worcester State College in December 2005 entitled “Whose Debt? Whose Responsibility?” I was invited by Dr. Henry Theriault, Armenian and genocide scholar. In the intervening seventeen years, I have collaborated with Theriault on countless panels, research groups and conferences. This association culminated in the founding of the Armenian Genocide Reparations Study Group (AGRSG) in 2007 that published the very important report of a comprehensive reparations scheme for the Armenian Genocide entitled Resolution with Justice. The report was published in 2014 and was the continuation rather than the end of my fight for reparations for the Armenian Genocide. To Theriault I owe the debt of introducing me to the Armenian community and supporting my work on these deeply important issues of recognition and repair.

Defining Reparations

My advocacy for recognition and reparation of the Armenian Genocide is because I believe in the truth of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s words that “injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” I am a justice and reparations advocate for the transatlantic trade in Africans and for the First Nations in the United States and Canada. I firmly believe that reparation is not just an attempt to “pay out monies in order to silence history.” Reparations is a comprehensive notion of repair that has five goals (5Rs): recognition, restoration, restitution, re-humanization and reconciliation. 

I define reparations as a comprehensive approach of repair that seeks to respond to historic injustices, such as genocides, mass violence, torture, detainment, etc. It involves both material and non-material components whose goal is to make survivors and their families and the wider group benefit from redress for the historical harm.

Defining reparations in this manner points to more than just monetary compensation and will involve first and foremost:

1. An apology/acknowledgement.
2. Tangible acts of repair, such as return or possession of properties sequestered during the Armenian Genocide or restitution to the value of expropriated property.
3. Historical reclamation to ensure that history is taught and education administered in such a way as to dignify the suffering of those who died and the continuing suffering of their descendants through denial.
4. Public commemoration and days of remembrances.
5. Public education campaigns to ensure that the historic injustice is well-documented and preserved so that denial is less likely in the future.

The goals of reparations are:

Recognition – To recognize the Armenian Genocide is to acknowledge its occurrence and to dignify the suffering of generations of Armenians by apologizing for the violence and attempts at erasure of their identity and culture. A significant part of the group culture of Armenians and other “genocide triumphers” is that their identity in both positive and negative ways revolves around the Genocide. Their reference point in both talking about resilience and suffering centers on the Genocide. Recognition must be the first act of repair.

Restoration – When recognition is achieved or done, then restoration is possible. In the reality of genocides, restoration is a psychological return to a time prior to genocide where the Armenian people thrived and contributed to Turkey’s economic and political development. Restoration is also aimed at a physical return of property, heirlooms and possessions that can be traced to the seizure of Armenian assets during the forced deportations, marches and expulsions from cities across Turkey. These must be restored to the families of survivors, and where this is not possible, these should be publicly displayed and regarded as precious possessions of Armenians.

Restitution – When the original properties or possessions cannot be returned, restitution is to be done. Both properties and possessions can be appraised, and monies should be disbursed to compensate for the initial loss in contemporary monetary value. Genealogical records of many Armenians in Turkey and the Armenian diaspora have been discovered and preserved. My friend and colleague George Aghjayan has been doing tremendous genealogical research that has unearthed many records from across Turkey, Syria and the Americas that were previously thought to have been destroyed.

Re-humanization – Any meaningful reparation scheme must aim at re-humanization. One of the continued indication of genocide is dehumanization. Those who commit genocides first remove the dignity of being human from those they intend to expunge from existence. It is an attempt of the genocidaires and deniers to lessen the humanity of victims. This strategy and its subsequent success through deliberate and elaborate denial can only be negated through a re-humanization process. Reparation must re-humanize, restoring the humanity of victims and survivors of genocides by documenting families, communities and livelihoods that were written out of existence in order to justify killings. Armenians, much like peoples of African descent before them and the Jewish nation since them, have suffered from a “victim identity” that has not been shed even with the march of time. These groups continue to be defined not by what they have achieved but what they have endured or suffered through.

Reconciliation – The last stage of reparation is reconciliation. It is intentionally last because you cannot reach reconciliation before you have accomplished the four previous steps. Reconciliation is long term, cannot be forced and is only likely when justice is evident. This is the most important lesson I have gathered in my two decades of studying truth commissions around the world. No matter what the names of these commissions indicate, reconciliation does not happen because truth is excavated; it only happens after a sense of justice is rendered. This is why the Turkish Armenian Reconciliation Commission (TARC) was destined to fail. There was no agenda of truth (not even in its formal name), and therefore not justice, for the genocide.

This theory of comprehensive repair for the Armenian Genocide was first (publicly) presented when the Armenian National Committee of America-Western Region (ANCA-WR) invited me to be their keynote speaker at the 100th commemoration of the Armenian Genocide in Glendale, California in April, 2015. I outlined then, and continue to advocate eight years later for, an understanding of reparations that is above and beyond financial disbursements and rather focuses on the whole experience of Armenians, including psychological repair.

Genocide Education

Genocide education has a dual purpose. First, it is about trampling the denial of the Armenian Genocide by those who think that erasure is in the power of the deniers. The second purpose of genocide education is to plant seeds in the fertile ground of advocating for public knowledge transfer to a wide cross-section of people who can ensure that the weed of denial cannot choke the justice of reparations. Genocide education advocates must make information accessible that provides everyone with ways to support resolution for historic injustices.

Genocide education is not simply talking about genocides across history. It is the dissemination of information and the encouragement of a consciousness to learn about historic injustices and to act on this knowledge to advocate for repair. Genocide education is difficult because it often involves “unlearning” stereotypes and shedding misinformation. Genocide education is preparing the next generation to advocate for justice for all oppressed and victimized groups that have suffered from genocides and their continuation.

I have travelled from Worcester, Massachusetts to Glendale, California, from Toronto to Quebec, Canada, and from Armenia to Cambodia presenting and teaching on genocides and reparations for the Armenian Genocide. I have educated Armenians and others not on the pain and legacy of continued victimization but also resilience. I have taught and worked on widening the understanding of reparations as not just one act or disbursement but rather as a comprehensive package of repair that addresses not just the monetary obligation of perpetrators but also their moral obligations.

However, I have also been taught. As a lifelong learner, I am well aware that even after seventeen years I cannot know all there is to know concerning the Armenian Genocide and the Armenian people. So with these visits I have listened to my Armenian sisters and brothers about their understanding of the justice struggle for reparations.

Genocide education is also about concerted efforts to become more aware and sensitive to the requirements of justice. One of the roles for genocide education is to not apply “broadbrush” solutions but to situate justice in the specific realities of the genocide about which we are educating others.

As a Black man researching on and advocating for reparations for the Armenian Genocide, I have served up many gasps and stunned stares to audiences across the world. I have been asked about why I would be working on reparations for the Armenian Genocide when I am not Armenian. I have never responded with just one sentence. Rather, I have pointed out the importance of alliances and cross-group advocacy for justice. As the descendant of enslaved Africans transported to the Americas, I completely understand a history of oppression and victimization that has attempted to erase an even longer history of development, civilization and greatness. Both peoples of African descent and Armenians can therefore find common cause and common ground on which to stand and from which to build a justice framework.

Genocide education is exactly what I have described above, educating peoples of African descent, Armenians and all peoples about supporting both causes for reparations for historic injustices and the cause of justice, in general.

Justice Advocacy and Transformative Genocide Education

My work on justice advocacy would not have been possible without the many Armenians and organizations dedicated to fighting for reparations for the Armenian Genocide – organizations important to acknowledge, as there would have been no Jermaine McCalpin working on reparations for the Armenian Genocide without their support and welcome. 

September and October 2019 were critical  steps in the advocacy journey. In September, I was asked by the ANCA to give the Raphael Lemkin Lecture on Capitol Hill and used the opportunity to articulate a vision of justice for the Armenian Genocide that built on the 5Rs. It was also a  reminder of the work that had already been done on reparations for the Armenian Genocide. In this lecture, I also argued against denial and its consequences. A month later, I was presenting at Columbia University under the auspices of its Armenian Center. There, my presentation was about the commonalities of the African American reality and the Armenians relative to how avoidance and denial shape the treatment of justice claims for both groups.

In the end, genocide education is both retrospective and prospective. It reaches back to the past as a way to ensure that denial does not win and that justice is worked on. It stretches to the future ensuring that the generations to follow will remember to do justice as an obligation of those who seek to do the right thing. 

My work continues for the realization of reparations as the right step towards resolution of the Armenian Genocide. The longer Turkey takes to recognize this grave injustice, the longer the Armenian Genocide persists. A genocide denied is a genocide continued.

Ultimately, genocide education is transformative, moving the educated from inertia to advocacy; and it is moral, moving us from being neutral against injustice where it is found to doing what is right. Finally, genocide education should be mandatory, moving us from an optional knowing about the past to it being a requirement for all who love humanity.

Author information

Jermaine McCalpin

Jermaine O. McCalpin, Ph.D. is chair and associate professor of the African and African American Studies program at New Jersey City University. He is an expert on truth commissions, reparations and genocides, having worked on these research areas for over two decades. Dr. McCalpin has advocated for the Armenian Genocide and reparations with many Armenian organizations in the United States, Canada and Armenia.

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Special Issue: Genocide Education for the 21st Century
The Armenian Weekly, April 2023

Genocide education can have many purposes. Whatever the level and type of education (elementary school, graduate school, public education through events or museums), the most essential purpose cuts across all forms: to foster a conceptual framework in members of society that is sensitive to genocide in general and helps those members perceive emergent or occurring genocides when there is enough time to do something about them, especially cases that are being ignored or misconstrued by the media, political leaders, academics, and others. It should equip people with tools to recognize and reject denialism.

The stakes can be very high. Effective genocide education in the 1970s and 1980s could have supported a North American and European population that was ready to recognize the genocides in Bosnia and Rwanda for what they were and were committed to stopping them as soon as possible. It would have prepared that population for the denials, obfuscations and political maneuvering that in actual history meant the deaths of hundreds of thousands unnecessarily. 

With this in mind, I turn to Artsakh (Nagorno-Karabakh). The facts are simple. As Soviet Interior Minister, Stalin put the Armenian area within the Azerbaijani Soviet Socialist Republic, but gave it autonomy, as part of his architectural destabilization of minority groups in the Soviet Union as a means of ensuring all groups’ reliance on Moscow. Over the next six-plus decades, Azerbaijan made a major effort to de-develop Artsakh and reduce its Armenian population. By the mid-1980s, the Artsakh Armenian situation grew so dire that independence was the only path to survival. In 1988, this movement was met with wide-scale violence and repression of Armenians, including two massacres of Armenians in Azerbaijani cities outside Artsakh. With the breakup of the Soviet Union in 1991, Azerbaijan launched a military attack on Artsakh in order to ethnically cleanse it of Armenians. Armenians resisted and by 1994 had reached a stalemate, with Artsakh in Armenian hands. The situation was relatively stable until the September 2020 invasion of Artsakh by Azerbaijan, with the results we are all familiar with. Most notable of the current facts is that Turkey was a full and decisive participant in the war, which was executed by a combined Turkish-Azerbaijani military force and extensive weapons, logistical and financial support from Turkey (for instance, in supplying thousands of mercenaries from among radical Islamists in Syria and Libya).

Why does genocide education matter in this case? Even if one looks at the facts, they do not convey the seriousness of Azerbaijani intentions and the potential impact for Armenians.  Proper genocide education includes both specific knowledge of the Armenian Genocide and an understanding of the processes that lead to genocide, how to evaluate genocidal rhetoric and intent and more. If education about the Armenian Genocide and genocidal processes were firmly in place in 1988, in 1991 and especially in 2020, then the well-funded and effective Azerbaijani disinformation campaign presenting itself as a victim and Armenians as demonic perpetrators would have been met with genuinely critical evaluations rather than almost mechanical parroting by political leaders and media outlets. The propaganda of think-tank journalists such as Thomas de Waal would have been met with skepticism rather than the credulity that has greeted his biased writing even in Armenian circles. Most importantly, the active military participation of Turkey in killing 5,000 Armenians, including many civilians, and drone attacks on civilians across Artsakh would have been met with international outrage as a reinitiation of unrepentant Turkey’s 1915 genocidal project, instead of being completely ignored and even supported in many circles. The clear statements from Turkish and Azerbaijani leaders of the intent to eliminate Armenians, not just from Artsakh but from the entire region, would not have been dismissed with the “politicians will be politicians” mantra or that such extreme rhetoric is just for domestic consumption and doesn’t really confirm in no uncertain terms genocidal intent. The brutality of attacks on Armenian civilians in conjunction with this rhetoric, and a proper framework for understanding Turkish-Azeri-Armenian relations, would have made it impossible not to see these as clear steps on the path to genocide, which would have triggered early-warning mechanisms and global attention to stop the impending genocide against Armenians. A blockade “[d]eliberately inflicting on the [the Armenians of Artsakh] conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part” (Method c of genocide execution as defined in the UN Genocide Convention) would be recognized as an act of genocide without any question.

We know how devastating the results have been of the lack of proper genocide education on the fate of Artsakh Armenians. Let us hope that in the future more effective genocide education will prevent these harms to Armenians and other future groups subjected to the risk of genocide.

Author information

Henry Theriault

Henry C. Theriault, Ph.D. is currently associate vice president for Academic Affairs at Worcester State University in the US, after teaching in its philosophy department from 1998 to 2017. From 1999 to 2007, he coordinated the University’s Center for the Study of Human Rights. Theriault’s research focuses on genocide denial, genocide prevention, post-genocide victim-perpetrator relations, reparations and mass violence against women and girls. He has lectured and appeared on panels around the world. Since 2007, he has chaired the Armenian Genocide Reparations Study Group and is lead author of its March 2015 final report, Resolution with Justice. He has published numerous journal articles and chapters, and his work has appeared in English, Spanish, Armenian, Turkish, Russian, French and Polish. With Samuel Totten, he co-authored The United Nations Genocide Convention: An Introduction (University of Toronto Press, 2019). Theriault served two terms as president of the International Association of Genocide Scholars (IAGS), 2017-2019 and 2019-2021. He is founding co-editor of the peer-reviewed journal Genocide Studies International. From 2007 to 2012 he served as co-editor of the International Association of Genocide Scholars’ peer-reviewed Genocide Studies and Prevention.

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Special Issue: Genocide Education for the 21st Century
The Armenian Weekly, April 2023

“You’ve challenged us to tell the story. And we’re very eager to share that story…” said Genocide Education Project (GenEd) Teacher Fellow Amy Perkins, describing  her mission after participating in the GenEd Teacher Fellowship Program in Armenia last summer. Following the program, Perkins, who hails from Michigan, presented a teaching unit she created based on the denial of the Armenian Genocide to teachers at the November 2022 National Council for the Social Studies conference in Philadelphia.

The 10-day immersive teacher-training program gave Perkins and 14 other high school educators from fourteen different states the unique opportunity to study the Armenian Genocide and its ongoing effects at the only Armenian Genocide museum in the world, while also becoming familiar with Armenian culture and current conditions in Armenia. Following the study tour, the new GenEd Teacher Fellows have been creating new lesson plans, providing workshops for other teachers and advocating for Armenian Genocide education within their professional associations.

Without fully recognizing and investigating the causes of the most destructive chapters in history, the human race seems doomed to replay them. Only after the true scale and pervasive nature of these acts are acknowledged and understood can individuals and societies act to stop them. It starts with education.

GenEd’s Genesis and Mission

The Genocide Education Project was founded with this mission at its heart. Established by Armenian-Americans in 2005, GenEd has steadily expanded its work to bring teaching materials and professional development programs to high school educators across the United States.  GenEd offers a particular expertise on teaching about the Armenian case as an essential episode in modern world history, WWI history and any curriculum that addresses human rights and genocide.

Indeed, the Armenian Genocide holds a singular place in genocide studies. It was the stimulus for Rafael Lemkin’s invention of the word “genocide” itself. It was the most significant human rights crisis of WWI, with record numbers of people murdered, an entire population erased from its historic homeland. New technologies made it possible to murder 1.5 million human beings faster than ever before, and the Turkish government’s total impunity for this unprecedented act served as inspiration for future perpetrators, beginning with Adolph Hitler. That impunity and the genocide denial campaign of successive Turkish governments also has a direct connection to the genocidal actions of Turkey and Azerbaijan against Armenians today, currently playing out with the months-long blockade intended to empty Armenians from Artsakh.

With this history and current events in mind, the value of including the Armenian Genocide in standardized social studies curriculum is indisputable. Yet, despite its important place in modern history and its unique and powerful educational merit, it has been overlooked in most secondary curricula. 

Providing students an understanding of key examples of genocide across time, their common stages (including the stage of denial which perpetuates a genocide and enables new ones), equips our students as they become responsible global citizens, to take action when the early stages begin to appear.

Through presentations at social studies conferences, teacher-training workshops in major U.S. cities, and dissemination of free teaching resources through its website, GenEd has directly reached more than 10,000 social studies teachers. GenEd also collaborates with numerous state education departments and genocide education commissions.

Critical partnerships with other educational organizations and Armenian-American community groups and volunteers around the country have significantly contributed to the introduction of Armenian Genocide education in schools and GenEd’s reach and success. Among GenEd’s earliest partners are its Rhode Island branch volunteers, Michigan’s Armenian Genocide Education Committee, local and regional chapters of the Armenian National Committee of America, Armenian General Benevolent Union’s The Promise film educational outreach committee and other ad-hoc community groups that have coalesced to take on the challenge of advocating for genocide education within their local government bodies and local school districts. Without the dedicated advancement by these advocates, the Armenian Genocide would be far less recognized today as an essential part of social studies education.

New GenEd Teacher Fellowship Program

GenEd’s single most impactful initiative to date is the GenEd Teacher Fellowship Program, inaugurated in 2022. Tapping its extensive network of educators and developing a rigorous application process, GenEd selected 15 highly-qualified and skilled teachers to become new GenEd Teacher Fellows. Through a unique partnership with the Armenian Genocide Museum-Institute (AGMI), adjacent to the Tsitsernakaberd genocide memorial in Yerevan, Armenia, the program combines GenEd’s expertise in training U.S. social studies and English language arts educators with AGMI’s unique role in Armenian Genocide remembrance and research, including its in-depth museum exhibit, collection of primary source documents and artifacts, and its ongoing scholarship on various aspects of the genocide, its aftermath and its continuing effects today. 

“Working alongside the staff at the Armenian Genocide Museum and Institute to educate American teachers on aspects of our history and share with them Armenia today was a dream come true,” said 2022 GenEd Teacher Fellowship Program director Sara Cohan.

The program is also a productive means by which two organizations — one outside and one inside Armenia — dedicated to the same mission of genocide education, learn from each other’s circumstances and perspectives. “I think that the partnership with The Genocide Education Project is very important for us at the Armenian Genocide Museum-Institute, because we are receiving new methodologies of education,” said AGMI Director Harutyun Marutyan. “Being a professional teacher here in Armenia and being a professional teacher in the United States are different. So, for me it was very interesting being in touch with the American teachers during the training process, listening to their questions and hearing their reactions to our answers.” 

The American University of Armenia also joined the effort by hosting the GenEd Teacher Fellows for presentations by experts on Armenia’s current economic, political and educational conditions. Through this and other sessions throughout the week, the GenEd Fellows were able to understand the long, multi-faceted and compounding effects of genocide and continuing genocidal policies.

“As a result of my participation in this program, I’m able to make those connections between the Genocide and the current geopolitics. And I think that that’s important to share with students,” said Allison Weller of New York. 

“It has actually been more important to learn about Armenia today and what the people who live here deal with… It’s still a battle for survival in the face of external threats…” said Justin Bilton of Massachusetts. “The lesson we learned is that silence on these issues benefits the perpetrators and awareness benefits the victims and the survivors.

The educators visited historic and cultural sites in the afternoons that enhanced their understanding of the academic content of the morning sessions. Throughout the experience, the GenEd Fellows engaged in many discussions on human rights and genocide education, Armenian history and culture and teaching pedagogy.  Moreover, these GenEd Teacher Fellows are equipped with a much deeper understanding of the history of the Armenian Genocide and with the skills to teach about it in a historically accurate and morally appropriate manner.

“I feel like I can speak to this topic more authentically than I could have done prior to this trip,” said Jeff Lewis from Connecticut. “I look forward to taking everything I’ve learned here and bringing it back home and sharing these important lessons with not just my students, but my colleagues and my administrators.” 

GenEd is now overseeing the second phase of the program, meeting with the GenEd Teacher Fellows regularly, discussing their experiences since their trip to Armenia, sharing new materials they’ve created and collaborating with them on preparing workshops for fellow teachers. The GenEd Teacher Fellows have expressed a strong desire to continue this work throughout their careers and to build on the relationships forged during the program in Armenia.

“I came here with a group of acquaintances, but I’m leaving Armenia with a group of lifelong friends,” said Kelly Rosati of Virginia. “It’s one of the most amazing feelings to know that going forward we have this group of inaugural Fellows who will always support each other. I wish that all educators could have this opportunity that I did.”

The GenEd Teacher Fellows have accomplished much since returning to their home regions. So far they’ve created at least four new lesson plans on different aspects of the Armenian Genocide; given or are preparing for presentations at the National Council for the Social Studies conference as well as sessions at the California, Michigan, Missouri, New York and Tennessee branch Council for the Social Studies’ conferences; given or are preparing workshops for school districts in Oregon, California and Massachusetts.

By the end of the school year, the 2022 GenEd Teacher Fellows will have trained approximately 300 other teachers, who will teach approximately 30,000 new students each year. In this way, the teaching of the Armenian Genocide is expanding faster and farther than ever before.

With the success of the inaugural Teacher Fellowship Program last summer, GenEd hopes to repeat it annually, as the fruits of its fundraising efforts will allow. The program is being made possible by generous donations from individuals and Armenian-American foundations that share GenEd’s vision that students across the country graduate from high school with an understanding of the Armenians and the lessons of genocide and the Armenian case. 

Once again, a group of teachers has been selected from 14 different states for the 2023 GenEd Teacher Fellowship Program. In preparation for the program, in the coming months they will be introduced to last year’s Fellows, which will undoubtedly add an important, positive dimension to the success of the program.

Author information

Roxanne Makasdjian

Roxanne Makasdjian is executive director of The Genocide Education Project (GenEd), a non-profit organization providing educators with professional development services for teaching about human rights and genocide, with particular focus on the Armenian Genocide and its relationship to other genocides of the modern era. She also is a member of the California State Council for Holocaust and Genocide Education. A former national television news producer, Makasdjian serves as director of broadcast communications at UC Berkeley. She holds a bachelor’s degree in political science and a master’s degree in journalism, for which she produced “Charles Garry: Streetfighter in the Courtroom” about the famed Armenian American civil rights attorney. The grandchild of Armenian Genocide survivors, Makasdjian was born and raised in Los Angeles and lives in San Francisco.

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The post Fast-tracking Armenian Genocide education in the US appeared first on The Armenian Weekly.

Special Issue: Genocide Education for the 21st Century
The Armenian Weekly, April 2023

The impact of genocide lingers long after the initiation of the crime. Genocide scholarship today delves into the more nuanced ways in which victims are subjected to genocidal acts in addition to murder. Sexual violence against women and de-ethnicization of children are just two examples. Entire societies are destroyed through genocide and the surviving remnants separated and scattered, resulting in the magnitude of the crime being difficult to quantify.

While research into a person’s ancestry was traditionally reserved for nobility, and in the United States there were societies devoted to descendants of specific groups, for example Daughters of the American Revolution or Mayflower Descendants, since the 1970s there has been an explosion of genealogical research into all ethnic groups regardless of societal class. The publication of Roots: The Saga of an American Family and the television mini-series based on the book brought forth tremendous interest in genealogy, the family history of African Americans, specifically, and all ethnic groups universally. 

In addition, there was controversary over the accuracy of the oral history included in Roots and the ability to document through source records the family history of victims of slavery that is equally relevant for all victims of genocide. 

Initially, my involvement in genocide education focused on demographics and the ways in which a numbers game is utilized in genocide denial. A primary recurring theme in the denial of genocide and ethnic cleansing is to minimize the victim population. Presumably, if less Armenians were alive and living in the Ottoman Empire in 1914, that would mean that less were subjected to murder, rape, slavery, etc.

My research has focused on three aspects. First, I work on documenting the location and previous Armenian population of the villages of Western Armenia, given the destruction of many of these locations and the Turkish government’s changes in names and locations. Second, there is a common misconception that the various source documents are in conflict over the pre-genocide number of Armenians living in the Ottoman Empire. Instead of viewing them in conflict, my research has attempted to show under what assumptions the sources can be brought into agreement. Lastly, I have used micro-studies to better evaluate the quality of the various sources. 

Over time, through this research, I additionally saw the continuing damage to our people by the ruptures in our families caused by the Genocide. I was tormented reading the advertisements searching for relatives placed in various Armenian newspapers following the end of World War I.

Since 1996, I have met hundreds of survivors of the Genocide and their descendants still living in Turkey and desiring to reconnect with their relatives. At the same time, the amount of documentary resources available to Armenians attempting to learn more about their family histories has exploded in the last 20 years. From Armenian church records in Armenia and the Diaspora and family history reports available to Turkish citizens to Ottoman population registers and DNA testing, thousands of Armenians are gaining new insight into their ancestors in ways they never thought would be possible.

The Armenian Genealogy Facebook group has provided an invaluable forum for those seeking answers. The Armenian Immigration Project has culled the documents pertaining to Armenians within United States and Canadian civil records, and there are similar efforts beginning in other countries as well. Since 2016, there have been a number of Armenian genealogy conferences held throughout the United States and in September 2022 at the American University in Armenia. 

The resulting stories of connections and reconnections of families have served as a powerful educational tool to understand the depth of the crime. For over a century now, Armenian women forced into marriages with Muslims, as well as children forced into slavery, and ultimately, assimilation into Muslim households, have been treated as dead. They considered themselves dead to their families and they urged their families to accept their “death.” There were hundreds of thousands who were included in the 1.5 million deaths of the Armenian Genocide. Yet, we know that many of them “survived,” and against all odds and threats of persecution, they retained their Armenian heritage.

Hrant Dink often wrote of the plight of so-called hidden Armenians in Turkey. In 2004, My Grandmother: A Memoir by Fethiye Çetin was published in Turkey and has gone through multiple printings. Through their efforts, a much greater awareness was created both inside and outside the Republic of Turkey about the Armenians still remaining on our ancestral homeland.

The tragic reality is that many genocide survivors pass away never knowing for certain what has happened to their lost relatives. In 2012, while traveling to the village of my grandmother, I had an epiphany about the way DNA testing could be used to assist in the reconnecting of families. In 2015, my hopes were realized—the family of my great-grandmother’s sister and I found each other through DNA testing. 

While it still remains very difficult and certain parts of the homeland are underrepresented, nonetheless today I find it much more common to be able to validate family trees and other oral histories through official documents. The village of Hazari in the Chmshgadzak region is an excellent example of what is possible. In the 1930s, Hovhannes Ajemian collected a tremendous amount of information on the Armenian-inhabited villages of Chmshgadzak. Included with this, thus far, unpublished material were genealogy wheels. I was given a copy of the genealogy wheels for the families of Hazari by the descendants of Vazken Antreasian, author of three books about the village. I was able to rebuild the family trees for most of the families from Hazari based on the genealogy wheels, Ottoman population records and United States records for those who had come from the village. The analysis has been published on houshamadyan.org. 

In this way, genealogy is useful in the toolkit of genocide education and also serves as a critical way of mitigating the continued detrimental impact of genocide on the victims.

Author information

George Aghjayan

George Aghjayan is the Director of the ARF Archives and a member of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) Central Committee of the Eastern United States. Aghjayan graduated with honors from Worcester Polytechnic Institute in 1988 with a Bachelor of Science degree in Actuarial Mathematics. He achieved Fellowship in the Society of Actuaries in 1996. After a career in both insurance and structured finance, Aghjayan retired in 2014 to concentrate on Armenian related research and projects. His primary area of focus is the demographics and geography of western Armenia as well as a keen interest in the hidden Armenians living there today. Other topics he has written and lectured on include Armenian genealogy and genocide denial. He is a frequent contributor to the Armenian Weekly and Houshamadyan.org, and the creator and curator westernarmenia.weebly.com, a website dedicated to the preservation of Armenian culture in Western Armenia.

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The post Genealogy: “Useful in the toolkit of genocide education” appeared first on The Armenian Weekly.

Special Issue: Genocide Education for the 21st Century
The Armenian Weekly, April 2023

My first steps in teaching in the US were at Clark University as a doctoral student and teaching assistant for two exceptional professors—Taner Akçam and the late Robert Tobin—for their courses on the Armenian Genocide and on Human Rights and Literature, respectively. That’s when I realized how much I enjoyed the process of teaching: leading interactive discussions with students, addressing their curious and, at times, challenging questions, learning with and from them. Soon, I was invited to teach courses that focused on the history of the Armenian Genocide, comparative genocide and the history of the Holocaust at Stockton University and Northern Arizona University (NAU). Those experiences helped me hone my teaching skills and explore and practice various styles and methods; they also proved quite educational. I was particularly keen on learning what students were more curious to study, what questions they raised in class, in their papers or during group discussions and how well their course material addressed those questions. 

The Road to Gender and Genocide Studies

Soon it became apparent that questions about gendered experiences, specifically the role of female victims, perpetrators and/or bystanders, repeated and dominated the discourse in every class. Students sought to learn more about women and not just as ‘vulnerable,’ and at times ‘faceless’ and ‘nameless’ groups in perpetual suffering and need of external assistance. They raised questions about female agency. How do women exercise their agency during a time of crisis—during a war, genocide and other mass atrocities? How do they face the tremendous hardships these atrocities bring upon them and their families? How do they overcome the unimaginable physical and psychological trauma caused by sexual violence? Do they, or could they, ever heal? And then, there was another set of questions aiming to explore and understand how the male-dominated patriarchal societies exacerbated these women’s pain and trauma and paved the way for more suffering post-genocide and post-war. Why don’t we hear more about sexual violence and its long-lasting consequences when studying the history of mass atrocities? What happens to those girls and women in the aftermath of war or genocide? Are they provided the necessary means and support to heal and find peace, or are they neglected, or worse, segregated and their experience and trauma stigmatized? Are they further pushed away from the rest of society into everlasting darkness and seclusion? And finally, what can we do about it? After all, isn’t it up to us to try and change this reality? 

Students’ deep, thought-provoking questions shaped my approaches to scholarship and inspired me to adopt more inclusive and novel teaching ideas and methods. Thus, when the opportunity to design and offer a new course at Martin-Springer Institute of Northern Arizona University arose, I created “Genocide and Women”—an interdisciplinary course that examined the multifaceted roles women played in genocidal and post-genocidal societies. In this class, students’ primary task was conducting a gendered analysis of mass atrocity. My role as an instructor was to create and manage a classroom where every student would feel comfortable participating in the discussion, even if the discussion topics were not always comfortable. The goal was not just to have the students entertained and engaged; it was instead an attempt to create a civil and professional environment where students would feel free to express themselves and learn from each other while discussing crucial and, at times, controversial subjects. 

Focusing on women’s experiences during the Armenian Genocide, the Holocaust and the genocide in Rwanda, and learning about sexual violence and its memory in Bangladesh, Bosnia and Iraq, we analyzed the relation between gender, ethnicity, class and violence in the “Genocide and Women” class. As Elissa Bemporad and Joyce W. Warren have explained, this intersectionality “plays a crucial role in the way women experience genocide.”¹ Students expressed their appreciation of the topics we discussed and the opportunity to learn about and discuss many different case studies from a new perspective, feedback that indicated the course was a success. 

Discussions with guest lecturers were a favorite student experience in this class. Since they were exposed to a variety of cases, geographies and histories from the Balkans to Central Africa, from the Middle East to Southeast Asia, I invited my colleagues, educators of diverse backgrounds, to join our classes via Zoom and discuss different approaches to and methods of understanding the systemic elements of gendered violence.² With Dr. Arnab Dutta Roy—an expert in world literature focusing on responses to colonialism in South Asian literature—students examined the role of fiction, including novels, contemporary movies and TV shows, in understanding gendered experiences of violence. They also discussed issues of agency and the meaning and role of empathy during and post-genocide. With Mohammad Sajjadur Rahman—an expert on the genocide in Bangladesh—students addressed questions of stigma connected with rape. They observed the links between sexual violence and shame during the genocide and its aftermath. With Dr. Sara Brown—the author of Gender and the Genocide in Rwanda: Women as Rescuers and Perpetrators—students discovered the complexity of female participation in the crime of genocide and in rescue and rehabilitation efforts during and post-genocide.³ Students found these in-class experiences so engaging and compelling that some asked permission to bring their friends and peers to attend the lectures and participate in discussions.

Student Analysis and Engagement 

My students’ positive feedback and enthusiasm at NAU encouraged me to continue teaching this course when I joined Clark University in the fall of 2022. At the Strassler Center, I taught “Genocide and Women” as a seminar, which allowed more time for discussions and analysis. With a group of a dozen bright students, we explored the voices and perspectives of female victims and perpetrators of genocide. We addressed the role of eyewitnesses and relief workers. For students to see the subtleties and depths of the human dimension in the history of genocides and mass atrocity, we investigated the topics through personal accounts, including diaries, published memoirs, testimonies, and through novels and documentary films. These sources created a new dynamic in the classroom: students engaged closely with the text and visual material. They, for example, noticed significant differences between the accounts of male and female survivors when analyzing their testimonies. Students detected females’ willingness to speak about feelings and emotions extensively rather than focusing on factual details of the events, which was more common in male accounts—an observation that corresponds to Belarusian writer and Nobel Prize laureate Svetlana Alexievich’s view: “Women tell things in more interesting ways. They live with more feeling. They observe themselves and their lives. Men are more impressed with action. For them, the sequence of events is more important.”⁴

Students also showed initiative by critically analyzing and utilizing the sources assigned for the coursework. For instance, after reading the memoirs of Vergeen⁵—an Armenian Genocide survivor abducted by the Bedouins and later ashamed to return to the Armenian community because of her facial tattoos—and watching the documentary Grandma’s Tattoos⁶, one student expressed willingness to share her family history with the class. Erin Mouradian—a senior at Clark— volunteered to prepare a presentation and told us the story of her great-grandmother, Arousiag Khacherian of the province of Adana in the Ottoman Empire. Arousiag had survived the deportation to the Syrian desert and endured “horrible treatment” in a Muslim household, followed by several years in an orphanage.⁷ She then traveled to Cuba to marry Abraham Parseghian Mouradian—Erin’s great-grandfather. Together they eventually immigrated to the United States. Erin confessed in class that she remembered seeing her great-grandmother Arousiag’s tattoos, yet she had no idea what they meant or where they came from until our seminar. Erin’s willingness to utilize the analytical skills gained in our class, examine her family history and then share it with her peers created an opportunity for students to grasp the significance of those skills. Suddenly, it became evident that the topics discussed in class were not about some ‘distant’ and ‘faceless’ historical actors of the past. Arousiag’s story helped students relate to the victims’ experiences of trauma and survival. Moreover, they discovered how gender affected not only the experiences but also the recovery from and the memory of the Genocide. 

One of the most emotional and educational experiences for the students of this seminar was the Zoom discussion led by Niemat Ahmadi—a veteran human rights and genocide prevention activist. Ahmadi survived the genocide in Darfur and was forced to flee because of her outspoken nature against the government’s genocidal attacks. To empower and amplify the voice of the communities impacted by genocide in Darfur, in 2009, Ahmadi founded the Darfur Women Action Group (DWAG).⁸ Generous with her time and willing to address any questions students raised, Ahmadi spoke about the continuing threats and attacks on her life and the lives of her family members even after she fled Darfur to continue the struggle for justice and accountability. Nadia Cross, one of the students pursuing a doctoral degree at the Strassler Center, later reflected on how important it was for her to have an opportunity to communicate with a female survivor and human rights activist directly. “Not only did I admire her courage and strength to pursue such work, but I also deeply appreciated that she could provide a local perspective to the women she helped, policy and lawmakers and our student group. That is incredibly unique,” highlighted Nadia.  

The seminar concluded with a class conference where students presented and discussed their final papers in the classroom. The assignment entailed a comparative analysis of women’s experiences during genocide, war and other mass atrocities. Students’ presentations reflected on various case studies—from the Armenian Genocide and the Holocaust to the genocides in Bosnia, Cambodia, Darfur, Guatemala, Iraq and Rwanda. Defne Akyurek’s paper titled “The Rhetoric of Denial in the Cases of the Armenian and Bosnian Genocides,” for instance, focused on Turkish intellectual Halide Edib Adivar and Serbian politician Biljana Plavšić—two influential women who were perpetrators and deniers of genocide. Presenting her thesis, Defne explained that although these female actors operated within different contexts and timeframes, there were quite striking similarities in the methods of their denial. She noticed, for instance, that both Edib and Plavšić reframed the victimized group—Armenians and Bosniaks, respectively—as “threatening aggressors.” These women also attempted “to redirect international attention to violence inflicted on the perpetrating population” and portrayed “genocidal violence as necessary or justified retribution for a perceived wrong committed against their nations.”⁹ 

Presenting their research results, students actively discussed issues tackled during the semester. They talked about women’s agency, resistance and denial, poetry and memory, and physical, psychological, emotional and social consequences of sexual violence post-genocide. 

Focusing on women’s experiences during and after genocide allowed students to think about and analyze the history of mass atrocity through a novel, more complex and nuanced lens. Drawing upon primary sources and personal accounts of various actors, not only did they learn about different roles that women played in the time of crisis—as victims, perpetrators, rescuers, resisters, collaborators, traitors, witnesses, human rights activists, among others—but they also discussed the importance of culture and culturally defined roles of women, the rules historically imposed by society that affected the experience of women during and post-genocide. Moreover, interacting with several guest speakers, including survivors and activists, and engaging in thought-provoking discussions in class, students completely immersed themselves in every aspect of gender analysis of war and genocide, ultimately developing exceptional research questions and final projects.

Endnotes:

¹ Women and Genocide: Survivors, Victims, Perpetrators, Elissa Bemporad and Joyce W. Warren, eds., (Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana University Press, 2018)

² Special thanks to Niemat Ahmadi, Dr. Sara E. Brown, Dr. Arnab Dutta Roy, Natalya Lazar, and Mohammad Sajjadur Rahman for guest-lecturing for and sharing their expertise with the students of “Genocide and Women” class.

³ Sara Brown, Gender and the Genocide in Rwanda: Women as Rescuers and Perpetrators (Routledge, 2017)

⁴ Masha Gessen, “The Memory Keeper. The oral histories of Belarus’s new Nobel laureate,” in the New Yorker, Special Issue (October 26, 2015) https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2015/10/26/the-memory-keeper

⁵ Mae M. Derdarian, Vergeen: A Survivor of the Armenian Genocide (Atmus Press Publications, 1996)

⁶ Grandma’s Tattoos, Suzanne Khardalian (2011)

⁷ According to Erin Mouradian, “a deal was made by Arousiag’s mother with a Turkish family and Arousiag was in the custody of a Turkish family but was treated horribly–all she ever elaborated on was that they barely fed her.”

⁸ Darfur Women Action Group (DWAG) is a women-led anti-atrocities nonprofit organization founded in 2009. DWAG seeks to empower and amplify the voice of the communities impacted by genocide in Darfur and to provides a platform for the international community to hear directly from those who are impacted the most by the ongoing violence in Sudan. For more, see: www.darfurwomenaction.org

⁹ Defne, Akyurek, “The Rhetoric of Denial in the Cases of the Armenian and Bosnian Genocides,” Unpublished Final Paper for HIST 239: Genocide and Women seminar (December 2022).

Author information

Asya Darbinyan

Asya Darbinyan, Ph.D. is a visiting assistant professor at the Strassler Center for Holocaust and Genocide Studies, Clark University, where she offers courses on Genocide and Women, the Armenian Genocide, the History of Armenia and the History of Genocide. She earned her Ph.D. in history at the Strassler Center under the direction of Prof. Taner Akçam. Dr. Darbinyan’s research and teaching expertise stand at the intersection of Armenian history, the history of the Russian Empire, genocide, refugees and humanitarian interventions, with a focus on the agency and actions of refugees in addressing their suffering and plight. Her book chapter “Humanitarian Crisis at the Ottoman-Russian Border: Russian Imperial Responses to Armenian Refugees of War and Genocide, 1914-15” appeared in the edited volume Aid to Armenia: Humanitarianism and Intervention from the 1890s to the present (by Manchester University Press) in September 2020. Her article “Recovering the Voices of Armenian Refugees in Transcaucasia: Accounts of Suffering and Survival,” appeared in the Fall-Winter 2020 issue of the Armenian Review. She is a recipient of multiple scholarships and grants, most recently, the Aurora Humanitarian Initiative’s Vartan Gregorian Scholarship to revise and expand her dissertation into a book manuscript.

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The post Genocide and Women: Teaching about the roles women play in genocidal and post-genocidal societies appeared first on The Armenian Weekly.

Special Issue: Genocide Education for the 21st Century
The Armenian Weekly, April 2023

“I believe in the resistance as I believe there can be no light without shadow;
or rather, no shadow unless there is also light.” 

―Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale

The defiance of victims is fundamental to the history of genocide. Without it, our understanding of the dynamics of mass atrocities would be flawed and inadequate. Using the Armenian Genocide as a case study, this essay argues for making resistance, broadly defined, an integral part of teaching about genocide in high schools and colleges.¹

Ask students to describe what happened during the Holocaust, and most responses will focus exclusively on acts the Nazis committed and the Jewish people were subjected to. Any knowledge of other mass atrocities will likely be framed in a similar manner, rarely with any reference to how the victims resisted. In our well-intentioned effort to demonstrate the enormity of the perpetrators’ crimes, we strip the victims of their agency, and unwittingly contribute to their silencing.

Therefore, it is key to emphasize that while the genocidal machine aims to maximize the very power asymmetry that propels it, it cannot erase the opposition of the victims as individuals and as a group: the perpetrator never wields absolute power, and the victims often demonstrate feats of individual and collective resistance. These actions merit a prominent place in our lesson plans.

This is not a call to turn teaching about genocide into communicating a hagiography of resisters, nor an attempt to glorify victims “by exaggerating resistance, which can imply a condemnation of those who did not resist,” to quote historian John M. Cox.² It is a call to give resistance as much time—and emphasis—as we allocate to the perpetrators’ crimes. 

The Breadth of Resistance

In the scholarship on anti-Nazi resistance, a broad, inclusive definition has for decades been the norm. Sociologist Nechama Tec sees resistance “as a set of activities motivated by the desire to thwart, limit, undermine, or end the exercise of oppression over the oppressed.”³ Historian Bob Moore defines resistance to Nazis in Western Europe as “any activity designed to thwart German plans, or perceived by the occupiers as working against their interests.”⁴ Historian Yehuda Bauer has defined resistance to the Holocaust as “any group action consciously taken in opposition to known or surmised laws, actions or intentions directed against the Jews by the Germans and their supporters,” although more recently he has argued for including individual acts of resistance and referring to the perpetrators as “Germans and their collaborators.”⁵ 

While historians have been successful in dispelling, in the words of historian Paul Bartrop, “one of the greatest myths of the Holocaust…that the Jews made little or no effort to defend themselves against their Nazi oppressors,”⁶ scholarship on other cases of mass violence has been slow to catch up. To this day, some authoritative histories of the Herero, Armenian and Rwandan genocides still equate resistance with armed action and ignore civilian forms of resistance, like organizing relief efforts, forging documents to facilitate escape, creating networks of solidarity and upholding religious and cultural practices against the will of the perpetrators. This neglect of the scope of resistance extends into—and, I would argue, is magnified—in the classroom setting.

One way to explore the theme of resistance in the classroom setting is to have students analyze multiple definitions, note similarities and particularities and examine the significance of these variations. Some useful questions to consider in this exercise include:

—How broad is the scholar’s definition? Does it include armed and unarmed forms of resistance? Does it consider both individual and group acts? 

—What possible acts does the definition leave out? What considerations may have led the scholar to exclude these acts?

—What are similarities and differences among the definitions under study? What are key words and phrases in each? What are the implications of these word choices?

— Can this definition be applied to other mass atrocities? (see next section)

Based on their responses, students can then come up with a definition of their own and excavate manifestations of what they consider to be acts of resistance from assigned memoirs and accounts. This will lead them to discover resistance and resilience in the very pages where they were taught to see subjugation and erasure.

The Armenian Genocide and Resistance: A Case Study

A discussion of resistance during genocides other than the best-known case, the Holocaust, can broaden students’ analytical aperture, help them apply what they have learned and challenge them to test and revise their conclusions. This section provides educators with background information and helpful resources to explore resistance to the Armenian Genocide.

The decision to uproot, dispossess and destroy Armenian communities on the pretext of wartime security measures and military necessity was spurred by an exclusionist ideology and a drive to homogenize the crumbling Ottoman Empire. What was known as the Armenian Question would be resolved through a policy of expulsion, expropriation and extermination.

The Ottoman Turkish authorities began arresting Armenian leaders and deporting the empire’s Armenian population in the spring of 1915. Hundreds of communities were forcibly removed from their ancestral lands and marched in the direction of the Syrian Desert. Those who survived the massacres and privations along the transport routes on the forced marches were interned in concentration camps near Aleppo, in Ras el-Ain, and along the lower Euphrates, from Meskeneh to Der Zor. Gendarmes and groups of irregulars massacred most survivors of this camp system (about 200,000 people) in Der Zor in the summer and fall of 1916. 

The literature on the Armenian Genocide tells us that Armenian resistance was rare and limited to armed struggles in places such as Van, Urfa, Musa Dagh and Shabin Karahisar. Oral historians Donald E. Miller and Lorna Touryan Miller write:

In the course of our interviews, we often wondered why there was so little resistance to the deportations. This is a complex question…. First, the Armenian leadership had been imprisoned or killed; second, weapons had been confiscated; and, third, the young men most capable of defending their communities had been drafted into the Turkish army. 

The authors also attributed Armenian passivity to an ingrained receptiveness to authority that had been developed over centuries and to the fact that “they could not perceive the master plan of extermination that was unfolding.”⁷ 

Yet, as we broaden our analytical aperture to include non-violent forms of defiance, the argument for Armenian passivity crumbles. It becomes evident that Armenians resisted genocide from the moment authorities enacted the empire-wide arrests, deportations and massacres. 

Shavarsh Misakian, an Armenian intellectual in Istanbul who had escaped the arrest of hundreds of Armenian thought leaders on 24 April 1915 and the weeks that followed it, organized a clandestine chain of communication across the empire. A network of informants prepared reports of atrocities that were then smuggled out of the country. These reports proved crucial sources of information to western diplomats, humanitarians and journalists.⁸ 

Others created groups that procured, transferred and distributed funds, food and medication to exiles, saved them from sexual slavery, created safe houses and underground orphanages and upheld morale. These groups were loosely inter-linked, operating out of cities where the population was only partly deported (Istanbul and Aleppo) and along railroad lines stretching from Istanbul to Konya, Aleppo, Ras el-Ain and Mosul.

During the Armenian Genocide, many women saved lives by engaging in unarmed resistance. The story of Elmasd Santoorian is a case in point. She was a “massacre widow” from the town of Marash who lost her husband during an earlier anti-Armenian pogrom in the Ottoman Empire. She went on to study midwifery in Istanbul, before returning to her home town in 1914. A year later, she was deported. She came down with typhus in Aleppo, but recovered with the help of an Armenian doctor. Santoorian’s skills as a nurse and her immunity to typhus propelled her, within a few months, to the position of head nurse at a top Ottoman military hospital in Aleppo’s Azizieh quarter. There, she hired “Armenian refugee girls, some orphaned, but all hiding from the gendarmes,” securing documents for them and preventing their deportation to the desert.

Many other women engaged in humanitarian resistance, endangering their lives as authorities cracked down on efforts to save refugees. Nora Altounyan established an orphanage in Aleppo for Armenian children whose parents had perished. Two other women established a makeshift orphanage in the Meskeneh concentration camp, repeatedly confronted gendarmes demanding rations for the children and were deported to their deaths alongside the orphans they protected.  

These individuals resisted without firing a single bullet. 

Below is a list of books, essays, and audiovisual resources on resistance to the Armenian Genocide. 

—For armed resistance, see Carlos Bedrossian, “Urfa’s Last Stand” in Richard Hovannisian, ed., Armenian Tigranakert/Diarbekir and Edessa/Urfa (Santa Ana, Calif.: Mazda, 2000), 467-507; Simon Payaslian, “The Armenian Resistance in Shabin Karahisar, 1915,” in Richard Hovannisian, ed., Sebastia/Sivas and Lesser Armenia (Santa Ana, Calif.: Mazda, 2000), 399-426; and Anahide Ter Minassian, “Van 1915,” in Richard Hovannisian, ed., Armenian Van/Vaspurakan (Santa Ana, Calif.: Mazda, 2000), 209-244.

—Franz Werfel’s 1933 novel The Forty Days of Musa Dagh is unmatched in the literature on Armenian resistance. For a book review, see Stefan Ihrig, “From Musa Dagh to Masada: How Franz Werfel’s novel about the Armenian Genocide inspired the Warsaw Ghetto fighters and the Zionist resistance,” Tablet Magazine, 18 April 2016. https://www.tabletmag.com/sections/arts-letters/articles/from-musa-dagh-to-masada (Accessed on 12 March 2023). The Musa Dagh Resistance is also featured in director Terry George’s 2016 film “The Promise.” 

—For an exploration of unarmed resistance, see Khatchig Mouradian, The Resistance Network: The Armenian Genocide and Humanitarianism in Ottoman Syria, 1915-1918 (Michigan: Michigan State University Press, 2021); Khatchig Mouradian, “The Very Limit of our Endurance: Unarmed Resistance in Ottoman Syria during WWI,” in Hans-Lukas Kieser, Margaret Anderson, Seyhan Bayraktar, and Thomas Schmutz, eds., End of the Ottomans: The Genocide of 1915 and the Politics of Turkish Nationalism (London: I.B. Tauris, 2019), 247-261; Hasmik G. Grigoryan, “Food Procurement Methods During the Armenian Genocide as Expressions of ‘Unarmed Resistance’: Children’s Experiences,” International Journal of Armenian Genocide Studies, 6:2 (2021), 40-52; and Hilmar Kaiser, At the Crossroad of Der Zor: Death, Survival, and Humanitarian Resistance in Aleppo, 1915-1917 (London: Gomidas Institute, 2002).

Conclusion

Once they adopt a definition and make a list of actions that constitute resistance, students realize that it was hidden in plain sight. They observe acts of resistance in most memoirs and survivor testimonies, developing a deeper understanding of the dynamics of mass violence and human agency.

Delving into the analysis of the agency and resistance of those targeted for genocide offers students the opportunity to critically examine power dynamics and explore questions of choice and voice in the media and public discourse. How do we portray refugees and asylum seekers? How do we speak of the experience of victims of sexual violence? How do we present human rights issues of the day? How do we think about breakthroughs in genetics, neuroscience and technology and their implications on human agency?

Ultimately, exploring resistance during genocide is good scholarship and good pedagogy. Students explore human agency and solidarity even in the most restrictive and perilous of circumstances, and consider resilience against oppression, hatred and cataclysm. In a world beset by human rights crises, population displacement emergencies and environmental disasters, reading about genocide depresses—pondering resistance uplifts.

Endnotes:

¹ A version of this essay first appeared in Samuel Totten, editor, Teaching Genocide: Insights and Suggestions from Professors, High School Teachers and Staff Developers (Vol. 3) (New York: Rowman and Littlefield, 2020), 137-143. I would like to thank Nanore Barsoumian for her edits and suggestions.

² John M. Cox, “Jewish resistance against Nazism” in Johnathan C. Friedman, ed., The Routledge History of the Holocaust (London: Routledge, 2011), 329.

³ Nechama Tec, Resistance, 4.

⁴ Bob Moore, Resistance in Western Europe, 2.

⁵ Yehuda Bauer, Rethinking the Holocaust (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000), 119.

⁶ Paul Bartrop, Resisting the Holocaust: Upstanders, Partisans, and Survivors (Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO, 2016), xxii.

⁷ Donald E. Miller and Lorna Touryan Miller, Survivors: An Oral History of the Armenian Genocide (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 72. In his authoritative history of the Armenian genocide, historian Ronald Suny agrees: “Most Armenians did not resist, hoping that they would survive by obeying the authorities, not imagining that arbitrary and massive killing was occurring daily.” Ronald Grigor Suny, ‘They Can Live in the Desert but Nowhere Else’: A History of the Armenian Genocide (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015), 332.

⁸ See Yervant Pamboukian, ed., Medz Yegherni Arachin Vaverakroghe` Shavarsh Misakian (The First Chronicler of the Great Crime: Shavarsh Misakian) (Antelias, Lebanon: Catholicosate of Cilicia, 2017).

Author information

Dr. Khatchig Mouradian

Khatchig Mouradian is the Armenian and Georgian Area Specialist at the Library of Congress and a lecturer in Middle Eastern, South Asian, and African Studies at Columbia University. He also serves as Co-Principal Investigator of the project on Armenian Genocide Denial at the Global Institute for Advanced Studies, New York University. Mouradian is the author of The Resistance Network: The Armenian Genocide and Humanitarianism in Ottoman Syria, 1915-1918, published in 2021. The book has received the Syrian Studies Association “Honourable Mention 2021.” In 2020, Mouradian was awarded a Humanities War & Peace Initiative Grant from Columbia University. He is the co-editor of a forthcoming book on late-Ottoman history, and the editor of the peer-reviewed journal The Armenian Review.

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The church services had ended, and with the customary repetitions of “Krisdos haryav i merelots” behind us, we made our way to my grandparents’ house since they weren’t able to attend the service. With each passing year, my grandfather had aged considerably, and it was physically demanding for him to make his way to church. Stopping by their home was a way of spending family time together and, indeed, a good excuse for all of us to have some nice tea, choreg, and, of course, to engage in the lively tradition of egg-breaking.

That day, my grandfather was a different man, lost in melancholy and silence, unlike his usual self. He was a storyteller who could bring the past alive with his anecdotes, but that day he sought solace in his cumbus, a banjo-like instrument. He then beckoned me with his notorious wink to come join him in his room. 

I sat across from him and listened to a couple of his tunes. Once he finished playing, he unhesitatingly asked:

“How was church?” 

“As usual,” I replied. “Don’t worry. You didn’t miss out on much,” I added to make him feel better for being unable to attend.

“You know, it’s the first Easter that I wasn’t able to attend since we moved to this country.”

“I’m sure,” I responded sorrowfully.

“But there’s a reason why I never missed Easter or any other holiday. A very good reason which I never like talking about is because it brings about accursed memories.”

It was obvious he was itching to share a story that he had never told before. Usually, the stories we would hear from him were cheerful and lighthearted, but when it came to gloomy ones, he would recount them only once.

“Just say it, Dede,” I implored. “Get it off your chest. It’s not good to keep all this inside you.”

He conceded and put down his instrument. He then released a heavy sigh and began to tell his story: 

“I remember that ill-fated day like it was yesterday. It was around sundown, and I was closing up my shop in Sivas’ city center. I remember how quiet everything was. Unusually quiet. In my heart, a feeling of unease was stirring, but I brushed it aside, eager to return home. And then, just as I was about to lock up, it happened.

An explosion. A thunderous loud noise ripped through the air. It was unlike anything I had ever heard before.

I felt the shock reverberate right down to my bones. Buildings trembled around me, and the screams of frightened people pierced the air, their voices joining together in a chorus of panic. In that moment, chaos erupted in the city, and people poured out of their homes and stores to bear witness to the disaster. A cloud of ash began to form, looming close to where I stood. Some fled in terror, while others, driven by a need to know, raced toward the epicenter of the catastrophe. I locked up my shop and joined the throngs of people running toward the source of the devastation.

As I drew closer to the scene of destruction, I was taken aback by the curious reaction of the crowd. They were not consumed by fear or despair, as I had expected. In fact, they appeared to be almost relieved, their faces displaying an odd sense of calm and solace. I wondered why until I reached the site and found out what was demolished.

It was the Armenian church.

The building had been completely obliterated, leaving behind nothing but a pile of rubble. As I stood there gazing at the ancient stones beneath my feet, I couldn’t help but ponder the many stories they held. The baptisms that occurred within those blocks of stone. The weddings. The many joyous occasions.

As people were approaching the site, they started to shout, ‘It’s the Armenian church!’ 

Another cried, ‘They’ve finally destroyed it!’

‘We’ll have more room in the city center now – something we’ve needed for so long.’

Another man, not knowing I was Armenian, said to me, ‘It was a useless building anyway.’ 

Even to this day, the name of that church in Sivas remains a mystery to me. The tragic aftermath of the Genocide left our community with nothing but ruins and ashes. There were no active churches or schools, no priests to guide us. The timeframe I speak of was the 1950s, and by that time, all that remained were the crumbling remains of institutions, which we referred to simply as ‘the old Armenian church’ or ‘the old Armenian school.’ Despite our proximity to these sacred spaces, we were disconnected from their history, and their names remained unknown to us. Our only connection to faith was the simple gesture of making the sign of the cross as we passed by. Without any formal education or guidance, many of us never learned to pray or read in Armenian. It wasn’t until we left Sivas and moved to Istanbul that I had my first encounter with an Armenian priest.

Regardless, there still existed a sizable Armenian community in Sivas, and word slowly reached each and every one of them about the church’s destruction. I encountered one of them on my way back home from the destruction site, and he told me plans had already been made to gather at a local Armenian’s house to discuss what happened. I agreed to join. Arriving at the home later that evening, I was met with a sight that will forever be etched in my memory. The spacious house was filled with many Armenians, all dressed in black, with the women in particular standing out. The discussion did not take place as planned. Everyone was mourning. All I heard was wailing and weeping. Amid the cries, I heard prayers. Some prayed in Armenian, others in Turkish. I then witnessed women lifting their hands in the air pleading for help from God or some sort of divine intervention. One particular moment that stuck with me was when an Armenian man who couldn’t speak Armenian or recite a prayer, instead prayed in the way of the Muslim faith by kneeling down on the floor. It was a subtle reminder that regardless of our different faiths or levels of assimilation, the devastating impact of the blast affected us all.

The small and forgotten Armenian community of Sivas never felt more neglected and alone that night. It seemed as though even God had forsaken us. We were alone in an ocean of a hostile environment that not only turned our community into ruin, but also destroyed those ruins. We struggled to come to terms with the enormity of our loss and the indifference of the world around us.

So with nothing left to say or do, the mourners were left with only their tears and prayers to offer. They cried and prayed, prayed and cried. It continued all throughout the night, and I could hear their voices till this very day.”

Overcome with grief, my grandfather ended his story just like that. Like a Siamanto poem with no happy ending in sight.

Part 2

Years went by and, after my grandfather passed away, I found myself still holding onto that story. I could recall every detail vividly, but I had always regarded it as just another family anecdote. Yet, as the old Russian saying goes, “trust but verify.” Although I trusted my grandfather completely and had no reason to doubt him, I knew that verifying the story would elevate it from the realm of family lore to academic inquiry. I wondered what I might discover if I were to investigate it fully and whether the truth might reveal new dimensions to the tale that I had never imagined.

Yet, I had no hope that I would find any piece of information about it anywhere. I first needed to find the name of the church, which I didn’t know. Even if I did know the name of the church, where would I find more information about it? Something inside me refused to give up, and I felt compelled to continue my search for the truth.

My “aha” moment came when I least expected it. I stumbled upon a book about Sivas that had been published by the Hrant Dink Foundation. As I flipped through the pages, one passage caught my eye:

The last of the Sivas churches, Surp Asdvadzadzin Cathedral was demolished by explosives in the early 1950s during a wave of cultural heritage destruction that struck central Anatolian cities. In that regard, Sivas city has no standing Armenian church.

This was it. I finally discovered vital pieces of information I had been searching for: the name of the church, the rough time of the bombing. Now, my only task was to delve deeper into my research to uncover more details.

The church was originally part of the Surp Nshan Monastery complex, built in the 11th century during a period when King Hovhannes-Senekerim was forced by the Byzantines to move to Sivas (then Sepastia) as part of a territorial exchange intended to strengthen defenses against the Seljuks Turks in the east. The monastery was made up of three churches: Surp Khatch (Nshan), Surp Hovhannes Karapet and Surp Asdvadzadzin—the church that was demolished. The churches were located in different parts in and around the city. The complex included a large garden with fruit and willow trees and a renowned school called the Sanasarian Varjaran. The monastery also owned property throughout the city of Sivas including 47 fields, two mills and 19 stores. Its influence in the region was palpable.

Up until the Armenian Genocide, Surp Nshan served as the primary repository of medieval Armenian manuscripts in the Sepastia region, housing at least 283 manuscripts. Fortunately, the library was not destroyed during the Genocide, and most of the manuscripts survived the carnage. Afterward, around 100 of them were transferred to the Armenian Patriarchate in Jerusalem in 1918. Others can be found in the Matenadaran in Yerevan, as well as in various public and private collections. But not all were saved. Almost all the treasures and objects belonging to the monastery were liquidated through “Liquidation Commissions” (Turkish: Tasfiye Komisyonu) and are now lost forever. The depository was the most sought after item in the monastery and contained prized artifacts such as old books, jewelry, gold and silver items and chasubles. Writer Haygazn Ghazarian’s account in the 1929 edition of New York’s defunct Alis newspaper provides important insight into the fate of the depository. According to Ghazarian, Turkish authorities coerced local Armenians into opening the depository, despite not having the key. After much resistance, the Armenians were eventually forced to use hammers to break it open. The discovery of the items must have felt like stumbling upon a treasure trove for the Turkish authorities, who immediately registered each item they uncovered and subsequently sold them at auction through the Liquidation Commission. The most prized item, however, was the throne of Senekerim-Hovannes, which we will get to. 

The most recent information available about Surp Nshan indicates that in 1939, the traveler H. E. King visited the monastery complex, which was being used as a military depot and closed to the public. However, King observed that the monastery was still intact, and the main church appeared to be in excellent condition, complete with its distinctive dome. This was vital information, because it showed that given how well preserved the monastery complex was, the only way to bring down its churches would have to be with explosives. King, however, was most likely referring to the main church of Surp Nshan, which was outside the city center. 

The church in question, Surp Asdvadzadzin, was the main focus of my inquiry. Turns out, it was a domed church that follows a “Hripsime-type” plan modeled after the church of the same name at the Varagavank monastery, according to the 11th-century historian Aristakes of Lastivert. The church had four monumental doors, four chambers and two chapels complete with a striking dome that was visible in much of the city. It was this very church that housed the throne of King Senekerim-Hovhannes. This magnificent throne, adorned with ivory, was brought to Sepastia in the 11th century by Senekerim-Hovannes after the Armenians struck a deal with the Byzantines to relocate their kingdom from Van. According to Ghazarian’s account, which provides previously undocumented details not found in English-language sources, the throne was taken from the church and given to Ahmet Muammer Bey, the Vali of the Sivas province who kept it in his living room as a personal possession. Unfortunately, the fate of the throne now remains a mystery, and it seems to have been lost forever. Muammer Bey died in 1928, and it may have been disposed of that year. The loss of the throne may not come as a surprise, as Turkish authorities may have viewed it as a threat due to its symbolic significance as a representation of the Armenians’ once independent kingdom and government. The throne provides irrefutable evidence of this history and perhaps why it has led to its destruction or disappearance, which is something especially plausible during the time of Turkey’s new nation-building project under Ataturk. The church also housed the graves of Armenian catholicoi, including Petros Getadardz, and featured a richly decorated main altar with a painting of Mary holding the Christ child. The image was framed by a stunning gold frame that resembled rays of light radiating from the image. The frame was topped off with an arch that contained the Bible verse John 10:9 in Armenian: “I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved.” The combination of the intricate frame and the meaningful verse added to the church’s overall grandeur and spiritual significance. Notably, the church underwent renovations during the mid-19th century, generously supported by local Armenians, and received further embellishments at the onset of the 20th century. Of all the churches in the complex, this particular one stood out as the only one located in the heart of the city. According to the Hrant Dink Foundation, during a brief period in the early Republican era, the church may have had some secret worshippers, which is surprising news. However, it was soon permanently blocked off. It’s also interesting to note that a group of Armenians actually petitioned the government to reopen the church, but their efforts were met with the demolition of the building. However, this surely cannot be the only reason for its destruction. 

The bombing of the church was carried out by Mayor Rahmi Günay, though it is believed he received an order from higher authorities. Günay was a loyal member of Ataturk’s Republican People’s Party and was the longest serving mayor in Sivas’ Republican history, eventually becoming a member of the National Assembly. In fact, Günay was so popular that he served two separate terms as mayor in Sivas’ municipality from 1942 to 1960 and 1968 to 1973. It is no surprise that one of the most famous streets in Sivas is named after him. 

It should be noted that it is very likely that Sivas was undergoing a significant reconstruction project that required the demolition of the Armenian church due to its prime location. Initially serving as a military depot, the church’s dome was dynamited on June 21, 1949, with the fortified walls still standing. It took two years to destroy the rest of the building, with the final explosion occurring around 1951 under the pretext of ensuring “public safety.” Following the demolition, the stones of the church were sold and repurposed for building residences and making sidewalks. Some accounts even suggest that the stones were used to repair Sivas’ main mosque. Nevertheless, the preservation of many historical monuments, especially Seljuk ones, in the city center today raises questions about why the Armenian church was specifically targeted for destruction. The location of the church is now a shopping center called Arı (39.7494518, 37.0163831), and one can see that the church stood right beside Sivas’ main central square. All around the central square, one can encounter many historical monuments today, but the only one missing is the Armenian church. Hence, one can’t help but deduce that the deliberate bombing of the church suggests a more sinister motive behind its destruction. 

It is highly likely that an anti-Armenian agenda was also at play. According to the Hrant Dink Foundation’s book on Sivas, there was a widespread campaign of getting rid of Armenian churches during the 1950s throughout Turkey’s interior provinces. The mayor may have been merely acting upon orders of a larger and more systematic campaign to erase the vestiges of the once thriving Armenian community.

When I revisit the brief sentence about the bombing, I’m struck by the realization that history has its limitations. It can capture events and facts, but it often fails to convey the true emotional impact on those involved. The words on the page didn’t mention the grief-stricken mourners who gathered late at night, nor did they capture the callousness of the local Turks upon seeing an Armenian church reduced to rubble. It brought to mind Napoleon’s famous quote, “History is a set of lies agreed upon.” I finally understood the sentiment behind his words. Historians consolidate their version of events and often leave out crucial details that help us understand how a tragedy affected the people who witnessed it. Instead, we’re left with dry and impersonal accounts that read more like science textbooks than a true depiction of history. However, in reality, history is full of half-truths, with the other half either left unrecorded or retained by those who experienced it, only to be revealed if and when they choose to share their stories.

The famed poet Czesław Miłosz once said, “The living owe it to those who no longer can speak to tell their story for them.” As Armenians who have suffered and continue to suffer from genocide and cultural erasure, this obligation weighs particularly heavily upon us. The loss of monuments like this church is not just a loss for the Armenian people, but a loss for all humanity. It serves as a stark reminder of the importance of preserving our shared cultural heritage, recognizing the injustices of the past and striving toward a more equitable future. By telling the story of this church and other similar sites, we not only honor the memory of those who built and maintained them, but also fulfill our duty to preserve and share the stories of those who came before us. In this way, we can ensure that their voices and stories are not lost to the sands of time, but rather continue to inspire and inform future generations. Indeed, it is the least we can do.

Author’s Note: This article is dedicated in memory of all those who were impacted by the tragic event, particularly my grandfather. Additionally, I want to express my deep appreciation to Robert Sukiasyan, a researcher of Armenian Studies at Yerevan State University, for providing invaluable information and insights about the church.

Author information

Garen Kazanc

Born in Paris to Armenians from Turkey, Garen Kazanc moved to Los Angeles at a young age, where he attended and graduated from the Armenian Mesrobian School in 2006. He received a B.S. degree in sociology from Cal State Los Angeles. He has been an active member of Hamazkayin and the Armenian Poetry Project and has contributed articles to various Armenian newspapers and media outlets.

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Every year, on Memorial Day, many Armenian Americans travel to Ararat Armenian Cemetery in Fresno, California, to visit their deceased loved ones and honor the heroes who gave their lives for our freedom. By walking around this very special place, you might find the graves of John M. Haroian and Luther Avakian, two handsome men who were born and raised in Fresno County, California.

Haroian and Avakian didn’t know each other, but they had a common cultural identity and a common tragic destiny. They could spend hours talking to people about their childhood, and that’s what they did. Their respective parents were Armenian refugees who were forced to leave their beloved land. Haroian grew up on a farm in Sanger with his parents Kachadoor and Elizabeth and his little brother Nish. Whenever Haroian spoke about his childhood, he would always talk about his mother’s cooking. According to him, her gata was a taste of heaven. Avakian also loved talking about his parents Mugger and Queenie and his beloved sister Victoria. Thinking about them would always put a smile on Avakian’s face.

During World War II, Haroian and Avakian both decided to join the US Army. At that time, they were both living in Fresno, and both had a bright future ahead of them. Sadly, the future of the world was uncertain, and so many men and women had to put their plans and goals on hold. After saying goodbye to their respective parents, they headed toward Europe, where all hope seemed lost and where millions of people were barely clinging to life. 2nd Lt Luther Avakian became a fighter pilot of the 352nd Fighter Squadron, 353rd Fighter Group, while Pvt John M. Haroian became a proud member of 7th Armored Division. They both knew that the odds of surviving this never-ending war were slim, but they also knew that the fate of the free world was at stake.

Thousands of miles away from home, Haroian demonstrated outstanding courage and was a source of inspiration for all his comrades. He was way too young to see what he saw, and way too young to feel what he felt, but he fought heroically and kept moving forward, until January 24, 1945. On that fateful day, Haroian was confronting German forces near St. Vith in Belgium when he was struck by enemy fire. His comrades rushed to his aid and desperately tried to treat his wounds, but nothing could be done to save him. Haroian was only 19 years old when his life ended.

Six months before Haroian died, Avakian was fighting for freedom over France. Mission after mission, Avakian flew into hell and did everything he could to defeat the forces of tyranny. Ignoring their own safety, Avakian and his comrades destroyed 28 locomotives, sank eight barges, damaged 13 trucks and struck many German bases. Every time they took off, these pilots knew they might be killed, badly wounded or lost at sea, but day after day, they showed the entire world that not all heroes wear capes; some fly P-47 Thunderbolts. On June 6, 1944, Avakian wrote a letter to his beloved father which ended with the words: “Dad, you keep the home fires burning, and I will see what I can do here.” The next day, Avakian took off from England and headed toward the north of Paris for another perilous mission. Sadly, he never came back. Struck by German anti-aircraft fire, Avakian’s Thunderbolt crashed, killing him instantly. He was only 21 years old.

If these two Armenian American heroes had survived the war and returned to Fresno, Haroian could have witnessed his little brother Nish become a remarkable physical education teacher at Sanger High School. Avakian could have visited Armenia and discovered the beautiful homeland of his parents. Haroian could have found the love of his life and started a family. Avakian could have become a devoted husband and a proud father. But their destiny was to die in Europe and return to their country in coffins. It was to die as heroes and sacrifice their lives for people they didn’t know. It was to lose everything, so that freedom would win.

Following the war, their respective families decided to repatriate their lifeless bodies and bury them at the Ararat Armenian Cemetery, which is also the final resting place of Soghomon Tehlirian, the Armenian hero who assassinated Talaat Pasha, the principal architect of the Armenian Genocide. Also buried in this cemetery are Pvt Berge Poochigian and PFC Leroy Emerzian, two more kids who had so much to live for and never got the chance to fulfill their dreams. Poochigian was killed on May 12, 1945 during the deadly Battle of Okinawa (Japan), and Emerzian was killed on June 18, 1945 during the ferocious Battle of Luzon (Philippines).

So if you plan to visit the Ararat Armenian Cemetery in Fresno, please take a moment to honor and remember the heroes who sacrificed everything they had, for everything we have. It is our duty to keep their stories alive and make sure that future generations know what Haroian, Avakian, Poochigian, Emerzian and all the others did for us.

To honor all the Armenian American heroes who died during World War II, here is an excerpt of a poem named “Memorial Day,” which was written in 1914 by Joyce Kilmer. This young American poet was killed in action in 1918 during the Second Battle of the Marne (France). He was only 31 years old.

Memorial Day

The rose blossoms white and red
On tombs where weary soldiers lie;
Flags wave above the honored dead
And martial music cleaves the sky.

Above their wreath-strewn graves we kneel,
They kept the faith and fought the fight.
Through flying lead and crimson steel
They plunged for Freedom and the Right.

May we, their grateful children, learn
Their strength, who lie beneath this sod,
Who went through fire and death to earn
At last the accolade of God.

Author information

John Dekhane

John Dekhane grew up in Paris before moving to the South of France. He works for a sport organization in Monaco. Since he was a child, he has always been interested in World War II with particular emphasis on American soldiers. In order to honor them, over the past years, he has located and purchased WWII U.S. artifacts in Europe and donated these items to more than a hundred museums in the United States.

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In the summer of 2000, Svante Cornell drove a motorcycle from Azerbaijan to Turkey to deliver the first barrel of Caspian Sea oil along the newly inaugurated Baku-Ceyhan pipeline. His motorcycle was sponsored by Azercell, Azerbaijan’s chief telecommunications company. A photo from the trip features a smiling Cornell carrying a bright blue barrel of Azerbaijani crude in his sidecar through dry mountainous landscape. 

Pictures of the trip have since been deleted from the website of Cornell’s consulting firm. The photos, obtained through the Wayback Machine, also show Cornell standing at the center of a team of 12 in front of SOCAR, the State Oil Company of Azerbaijan Republic, and a shot of Azerbaijan’s former President Heydar Aliyev addressing the group as “great politicians.” 

Cornell is among the American scholars who has built a successful career writing about Azerbaijan’s politics while cultivating a relationship with its government. He is the chair and co-founder of the Central-Asia Caucasus Institute and Silk Road Studies Program (CACI), a joint research center that encourages “Americans and Europeans to enter into an active and multi-faceted engagement with this region,” as stated on its website. The CACI was affiliated with Johns Hopkins University until 2017, when it joined the American Foreign Policy Council (AFPC), a think tank based in Washington, DC. 

Sources show that over the years, Cornell has received consistent communication from lobbyists who represent Azerbaijan. A review of over 200 pages of FARA filings reveals that Cornell and other key figures from the CACI and the AFPC for years were in close contact with lobbyists from the Podesta Group and the DCI Group, LLC. Cornell also directs a research center partly funded by companies with financial interests in the oil-rich South Caucasus nation. He has worked as a consultant to companies involved with security, energy and defense in the region.

The government of Azerbaijan spends hundreds of thousands of dollars every year to influence scholars at preeminent universities in the United States and shape public opinion of its image. Lobbyists meet and communicate regularly with scholars from institutions including Harvard, Georgetown, Tufts and Boston University about US-Azerbaijan ties and Azerbaijani public relations. Between February and June of 2016 alone, the Podesta Group received $379,325.73 for its work on behalf of the Embassy of the Republic of Azerbaijan, according to a document filed with the Foreign Agents Registration Act (FARA). FARA requires agents hired by foreign entities, including foreign governments, to disclose their activities. 

Among the funders of the CACI are oil, gas, mining and tobacco companies with economic interests in the South Caucasus. An archived brochure from the CACI website from 2006, which has since been deleted, states, “Over the years, many corporations active in the region have also provided open-ended support, including Exxon-Mobil, Chevron, Newmont Mining, Phillip Morris, and Unocal.” At the time, both Exxon-Mobil and Chevron were invested in Azerbaijani oil fields. 

In turn, Cornell’s academic writing shows a bias in favor of Azerbaijan. He has published articles celebrating Azerbaijan’s reforms and anti-corruption efforts, blaming Armenia for its war with Azerbaijan in Artsakh (Nagorno-Karabakh) in 2020, and encouraging cooperation between Azerbaijan and the United States.  

“A long overdue generational change is taking place in Azerbaijan’s political system, accompanied by what appears to be a serious effort to wean the country off its dependence on oil and to make its state institutions more responsive to the population’s needs,” Cornell writes in a 2019 article published in The American Interest titled “Azerbaijan: Reform Behind a Static Façade.” “The reform effort in Azerbaijan provides an opportunity for the U.S.-Azerbaijan political dialogue to be centered on positive cooperation.” Cornell’s favorable depiction is entirely at odds with any objective account of Azerbaijan.

Azerbaijan is an oil-wealthy dictatorship whose ongoing widespread corruption and systemic human rights violations are well-documented by Western journalists and human rights groups. The country has remained in the bottom third of Transparency International’s Corruption Perception Index since 2012, and received a score of 23 out of a 100 in 2022, 0 being highly corrupt. 

The Podesta Group represented the Embassy of the Republic of Azerbaijan in the United States from 2009-2017. The firm sends “informational materials” on behalf of the Azerbaijani Embassy to public officials and media outlets, according to its FARA filings. It also counsels the embassy on US policy, informs nonprofit organizations about global energy security and regional stability in the South Caucasus, and provides the embassy with public relations support.  

A former lobbyist with the Podesta Group who represented Azerbaijan during this time period did not return several phone calls.  

The reputation of the Podesta Group, formerly a lobbying powerhouse in Washington, was damaged when it was subpoenaed during special counsel Robert Mueller’s investigation into Russian interference in the 2016 US presidential election. The investigation alleged that former President Donald Trump’s campaign chairman Paul Manafort hired the firm to influence American media and public officials on behalf of pro-Russian Ukrainian politicians. Charges brought against the firm were dropped in 2019. 

From 2014 to 2016, the year that the Podesta Group suspended its operations, the firm contacted Cornell 19 times by email, according to numerous FARA filings. The firm also emailed S. Frederick Starr, co-founder of the CACI, nine times and held several meetings with Ilan Berman, senior vice president at AFPC, and Stephen Blank, senior fellow for Russia at AFPC. The subjects of the emails and meetings were either Azerbaijani public relations or US-Azerbaijan relations.

Cornell initially denied that he had ever been approached by or had any interaction with lobbying firms like the Podesta Group. He said that in his opinion Azerbaijan does not work very actively with lobbying groups in the US.

“What I know about them is mostly what I read in the media, but I personally think their role has been overhyped,” Cornell said in an email. “With some exceptions, it seems to me these public relations firms try to maximize the money they get and minimize the work they actually do.”

In a follow-up email, Cornell admitted that he had been approached by the Podesta Group before 2017, when there was a “more concerted effort by PR firms working with the Azerbaijani embassy or other Azerbaijani organizations reaching out to think tanks including ours” than there has been in the past five years, according to Cornell. 

He said the emails consisted of either “invitations to Embassy events and the like, some of which I responded to and attended, and mailings trying to promote the Azerbaijani position on events relating to the Armenia-Azerbaijan conflict, and possibly some domestic issues, which I largely ignored.” 

Among the events Cornell has accepted invitations to include government-sponsored conferences in Azerbaijan and Artsakh, where Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev has also been in attendance. On April 28, 2022, he participated in a visit organized by the government of Azerbaijan to the city of Shushi, a strategic city in Artsakh with cultural significance to both Armenia and Azerbaijan that was captured by Azerbaijani forces during the 2020 war. American and French ambassadors have refused to visit Shushi in order to avoid the appearance of taking sides in the conflict. 

He also attended a conference on April 13, 2021 hosted by Azerbaijan’s government during which academics from around the world posted questions to President Aliyev. 

“Let me congratulate you and the people of Azerbaijan on the restoration of Azerbaijan’s territorial integrity,” Cornell said during the conference, in reference to Azerbaijan’s victory in the 2020 war with Armenia. Azerbaijan launched a full-scale attack on Artsakh and captured most of the disputed territory. 

“It is clear that this historic achievement has changed the politics of the Caucasus region and far beyond. Most importantly, I think it has shown to the world the capabilities of Azerbaijan and the resolve of Azerbaijani statehood,” Cornell said during the conference. 

Among the academics who attended the conference was Brenda Shaffer. Shaffer regularly publishes scholarly articles on the CACI website, including several she penned jointly with Cornell. 

A 2015 investigation by the Organized Crime and Corruption Reporting Project uncovered that the Caspian Studies Program at Harvard led by Shaffer was set up with funding from the US Azerbaijan Chamber of Commerce, a pro-Azerbaijan pressure group whose Board of Directors includes a vice president of SOCAR. 

“Supported by an overseas regime and an assorted network of overt and undercover lobbyists, [Shaffer] used oil money to build her academic credentials, then in turn used those credentials to promote Azerbaijan’s agendas through Congressional testimony, dozens of newspaper op-eds and media appearances, countless think tank events, and even scholarly publications,” the article says. 

Shaffer and Cornell both also serve on the board of advisors of Caucasus International, a foreign policy journal based in Baku. 

Alex Galitsky, program director at the Armenian National Committee for America in Washington, says that attending government-sponsored academic conferences in Azerbaijan and having direct ties with think tanks and academic institutions in the country are two key indicators that scholars have a close connection to the government of Azerbaijan. Azerbaijan relies on these scholars to influence public perception around the world in favor of its political interests. 

“They are shaping the public opinion of an elite group of thought leaders, scholars, policymakers and academics in the way they engage on these issues,” Galitsky said in an interview. 

In turn, such scholars publish writings promoting cooperation between Azerbaijan and the United States.

“They say it’s in the interest of US stability and power projection that countries like Azerbaijan are propped up, and in the same breath dismiss the significance of Azerbaijani human rights abuses and autocratic conduct, saying these things are irrelevant in the calculation of how the United States should engage with a country like Azerbaijan,” Galitsky said. 

In addition to his contacts with the Podesta Group, Cornell also attended a meeting with representatives from the DCI Group, LLC. The DCI Group represented the Embassy of Azerbaijan in the United States from 2012-2013. On October 14, 2013, a representative from the DCI Group met with Cornell for breakfast, according to the organization’s FARA filings. A year earlier, on October 9, 2012, the DCI Group emailed Cornell “regarding his book Azerbaijan Since Independence, his relationship with the Ambassador and his insights and future collaboration on Azerbaijan issues.” The purpose of the email was to “influence US policies on behalf of the Embassy of the Republic of Azerbaijan.”

A review of Azerbaijan Since Independence by Joshua Kucera, the former Caucasus editor at EurasiaNet, calls Cornell “generally pretty pro-Azerbaijan.”

Several lobbyists at DCI Group either did not return several emails or declined to participate in an interview. 

Cornell said that the meeting was set up by a former student of his from Johns Hopkins who worked at DCI Group and wanted to learn more about Azerbaijan and the Caucasus. He said the student and her colleague from the firm “showed up with copies of my book with post-it notes sticking out of the book, points on which they wanted to ask questions.” 

“I remember being slightly miffed by this rather crass attempt by a well-paid for-profit company getting educated for free, but I obliged as a favor to a former student,” Cornell said in an email. 

While teaching at Johns Hopkins, Cornell also led a consulting group he co-founded called Cornell Caspian Consulting, LLC. The company “provides counsel to private or public contractors” on security issues, energy development, defense and military matters, and business matters, as well as “contacts with regional firms, organizations, or governments” in the Caucasus, Central and Southwest Asia, according to its website. 

Cornell Caspian Consulting “encourages its staff to keep a close relationship with institutions engaging in policy-relevant academic research.” “Most CCC staff keep a part-time position in universities, think tanks or research institutes,” its website reads. 

Cornell participated in the launch of the Baku-Ceyhan pipeline in 2000 as a representative of Cornell Caspian Consulting. 

Galitsky says it can be difficult to identify the financial ties between the government of Azerbaijan and its network of scholars promoting its interests around the world. 

“It’s so behind the scenes and non-transparent that it allows people with direct overt relationships with Azerbaijani officials to get off scot-free and not be seen as tainted by Azerbaijan’s oil money and bribery. It allows them to maintain legitimacy and continue to promote the Azerbaijani regime’s propaganda in these circles with full credibility,” Galitsky said.  

However, the covert nature of Azerbaijan’s lobbying to academia allows it to carry on without scrutiny.

“They don’t want the perception that their strongest advocates and allies in academia and scholarship are on their payroll, because that would invalidate a lot of the work they’re doing,” Galitsky said. “People would see it as what it is—a ploy by Azerbaijan to influence American public opinion.”

Author information

Lillian Avedian

Lillian Avedian is a staff writer for the Armenian Weekly. Her writing has also been published in the Los Angeles Review of Books, Hetq and the Daily Californian. She is pursuing master’s degrees in journalism and Near Eastern Studies at New York University. A human rights journalist and feminist poet, Lillian's first poetry collection Journey to Tatev was released with Girls on Key Press in spring of 2021.

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In 1938, in Providence, Rhode Island, John “Johnny” Bejian was a 17-year-old with a very specific dream. Most of his friends wanted to be as talented as the phenomenal baseball player Joe DiMaggio, as famous as the legendary dancer Fred Astaire, or as popular as the iconic entertainer Bing Crosby, but Bejian wanted to live his passion for sports by becoming a sports announcer.

Born on June 12, 1921, in Providence, Bejian was the pride and joy of his parents Charles and Margaret Bejian. They were both born in Armenia, and like so many Armenians, they were forced to leave their beautiful homeland, forced to leave everything they had, forced to leave everything they loved. Bejian had two sisters, Peggy and Valencia, who adored their brother and were always there for him. 

By the age of eight, Bejian was already interested in sports. At the time, the “Providence Grays” were playing in Minor League Baseball (MiLB), and the “Providence Steam Rollers” were playing in the National Football League (NFL). In 1928, the Steam Rollers won the NFL Championship, and in 1929, the Steam Rollers made history by being the first team to host an NFL game at night, under floodlights. Like most kids, Bejian would sometimes dream about the future and picture himself commentating a baseball game. Someday, somewhere, somehow, the world would hear his voice ending a live broadcast with a traditional: “Thanks for listening. Goodnight, Providence.”

Bejian later attended Central High School in Providence and was a remarkable student. He was always eager to learn, loved playing baseball and was one of the most popular students. According to all, Bejian was a born leader; he was the class president and president of the student council. Following his graduation in 1939, he worked for a jewelry manufacturing company and was then employed by the Nicholson File Company on Acorn Street, Providence. That’s when Bejian made a decision that changed the course of his life. Knowing that freedom was in great danger and knowing that an entire generation would be needed to stop the forces of evil, Bejian decided to join the US Army Air Corps and said goodbye to his beloved family.

Second Lieutenant John “Johnny” Bejian became a proud member of the 836th Bomb Squadron, 487th Bomb Group, 8th Air Force and served his country as a B-24 navigator. Mission after mission, this true Armenian American hero put his life on the line to liberate Europe. Being assigned to a bomber crew was basically a death sentence during World War II. More than 26,000 members of the 8th Air Force were killed during the war, and more than 20,000 were wounded. The average life expectancy of a bomber crew rarely exceeded 15 missions. Bejian knew that every mission could be his last one, but like so many brave young men, he did what he had to do.

On June 20, 1944, Bejian and his crewmates took off from England and headed toward Germany. Their mission was to travel deep into enemy territory and destroy an oil refinery near Hanover. Everything was going according to plan, but suddenly, all hell broke loose. German anti-aircraft fire struck the American bomber, perforating its fuselage and killing Bejian instantly. He was only 23 years old. On that fateful day, Providence lost one of its true heroes, but heaven gained an angel. Bejian was initially buried at the Cambridge American Cemetery in England, but in 1948, he was repatriated to Rhode Island and is now resting in peace next to his parents at North Burial Ground in Providence.

To honor this true Armenian American hero in a meaningful way, I contacted three Major League Baseball teams—the St. Louis Cardinals, the Pittsburgh Pirates and the Cleveland Guardians—all of which displayed a tribute message on their scoreboards during their respective games against the Atlanta Braves on April 3, the Chicago White Sox on April 9 and the New York Yankees on April 11. I don’t know how many spectators at Busch Stadium, PNC Park and Progressive Field saw these special tributes, but I’m sure Bejian saw them, and that’s the most important.

So many years have gone by since that fateful mission over Germany, but here we are Johnny, still missing you, still thinking about you, still talking about you, and still honoring you. Happy Birthday, Johnny. Rest assured that your legacy and memory will live on forever.

Author information

John Dekhane

John Dekhane grew up in Paris before moving to the South of France. He works for a sport organization in Monaco. Since he was a child, he has always been interested in World War II with particular emphasis on American soldiers. In order to honor them, over the past years, he has located and purchased WWII U.S. artifacts in Europe and donated these items to more than a hundred museums in the United States.

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