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Fragile peace in Nagorno-Karabakh

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  • Fragile peace in Nagorno-Karabakh

    Fragile peace in Nagorno-Karabakh
    By Steven Eke

    BBC regional analyst
    Wednesday, 12 May, 2004

    I sit in a vineyard on the outskirts of Nagorno-Karabakh's main
    town, Stepanakert, the evening mist rolling down from the lush,
    surrounding hills.

    Everything is peaceful, the only sounds being those of farm animals
    and the occasional passing car.

    It is difficult to imagine this place at war, especially a conflict
    such as that fought by Armenia and Azerbaijan, which saw both sides
    commit appalling acts of cruelty against each other's civilian
    population.

    The two South Caucasus nations of Armenia and Azerbaijan, as well as
    the unrecognised Republic of Nagorno-Karabakh, saw ethnic cleansing
    long before it would again appear in the former Yugoslavia.

    But while some of those who committed the worst atrocities there are
    now facing justice, Nagorno-Karabakh has not moved on. The wounds,
    Armenian and Azeri, are still raw. And who, really, in the West
    actually remembers the first signs of unrest here in 1988?

    On one of the hills to my east, I can see the town of Shusha. From
    there, Azeri forces relentlessly shelled Stepanakert. The town's
    people could only have been sitting ducks.

    I know that the antipathy between Armenians and Azeris is very real,
    and has existed for centuries. At every step, I hear anti-Azeri
    statements, usually mixed with anti-Turkish sentiments.

    Venom

    Most Armenians still seem unable to distinguish Azeris from Turks. Yet
    it seems strange to me that people who had lived together during the
    Soviet period could have secretly harboured such venom.

    In Stepanakert, it is easy to think you are in Armenia proper. The
    Armenian national flag is everywhere - on lamp-posts, hanging
    above shop doors. The telephone codes are the same as Armenia's


    On Wednesday, Nagorno-Karabakh is marking a decade of peace. Ten
    years have passed since the end of war, but peace is fragile.

    Even now, ordinary civilians and soldiers alike die in mine accidents
    on the no man's land separating Nagorno-Karabakh from Azerbaijan. There
    is no peace settlement, and I cannot help but feel it would take the
    smallest of sparks to ignite the region once again.

    The military situation means it is only possible to enter
    Nagorno-Karabakh from Armenia, along a highway leading directly
    from Yerevan.

    There are no border controls with Armenia, and nothing to suggest you
    are entering Nagorno-Karabakh. Indeed, part of the highway leading to
    Stepanakert has been rebuilt, largely using money from the Armenian
    diaspora, most of which is in the United States.

    I was aware as I drove to Stepanakert, surrounded by untouched forests,
    awe-inspiring mountains and fertile fields, that I was in what is
    legally Azerbaijan. For the self-styled Republic of Nagorno-Karabakh
    has not been recognised by a single other country on earth. Even
    Armenia.

    Sympathy

    Yet in Stepanakert, it is easy to think you are in Armenia proper. The
    Armenian national flag is everywhere - on lamp-posts, hanging above
    shop doors. The telephone codes are the same as those in Armenia.

    The people speak Armenian - admittedly with an accent. They have
    restored the town, which is an attractive, green, relaxed place. There
    is tradition - with farm animals wandering the streets. There is also
    modernity - the ubiquitous mobile phone.

    The people I spoke to made it abundantly clear: "We are Armenians".

    "Either we live as part of Armenia, or in an independent state,"
    said others.

    "But we don't want to live in Azerbaijan, and we don't want the Azeris
    living among us".

    The most positive assessment I found was that Armenians and Azeris
    could be "good neighbours". Nothing more.

    What surprises me most is the local people's profound interest in
    the outside world. They want the world to remember their troubled
    republic. They believe that, whatever the territorial claims from
    oil-rich Azerbaijan, the international community will somehow be more
    sympathetic to their cause.
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