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CIS: ARMENIA LATEST TO AGONIZE OVER ANTHEM
By Robert Parsons
Radio Free Europe, Czech Rep.
Aug. 24, 2006
Emblems, flags and national anthems. There are few things, it seems,
more likely to stimulate the energies and passions of legislators in
the fledgling states of the old Soviet Union. Now, it is Armenia's
turn.
PRAGUE, August 24, 2006 (RFE/RL) -- The mood is a little fractious in
the Armenian capital this summer, and the weather isn't helping. The
mercury has climbed inexorably above 40 degrees Celsius.
But not even the boiling sun can match the heat generated by the
debate over whether Armenia should ditch its national anthem and adopt
something more modern, more attuned to today's national aspirations.
The very idea, according to the nationalist Dashnaktsutiun Party --
which forms part of the coalition government -- is tantamount to
sacrilege. The Dashnaks like things just as they are.
"Mer Hayrenik," or "Our Fatherland," was penned by Mikael Ghazavi
Nalbandian, one of the most revered nationalist figures of the 19th
century, and adopted as the national anthem by the short-lived Armenian
state of 1918-20.
Thereafter it was banned by the Bolsheviks and became a hymn of protest
before being reinstated as the national anthem when Armenia declared
its independence in 1991.
So why change it now?
Take a look on Armenian blogsite blogrel.com and you get an idea why.
The song is too wimpy, complains one visitor -- and too gloomy.
Take verse three. None of the usual chest-thumping banality of national
anthems here. But perhaps not calculated, either, to fill the hearts
of young schoolchildren with patriotic joy.
Death is the same everywhere; People die only once.
Lucky are the ones that are Sacrificed for the freedom of the nation.
Armenia is, of course, not the first post-Soviet state to go through
the agonies of this debate.
Russia fretted over it through the 1990s, briefly replacing the Soviet
anthem with a temporary lyric-free piece by 19th-century composer
Mikhail Glinka.
A 22-person commission made up of Armenia's wisest and best has been
sifting through 85 candidates to come up with a new anthem.
In 2000, it once again reverted to the Soviet-era melody -- albeit with
new words to replace paeans to "Lenin's ideas" and the "unbreakable
union" of the Soviet state.
"Sacred Russia," the new version proclaims, "protected by God."
But divine care was not enough to persuade liberals like Grigory
Yavlinsky, leader of the opposition Yabloko party, who warned that
the reversion to the Soviet tune was a harbinger of terrible things.
Georgia's Trials
In Georgia, too, the debate was fierce. But no nostalgia there. Two
years ago, it ditched the existing post-Soviet anthem in favor of a
new song.
Legislators said the fresh tune had more appropriate lyrics and --
so they hoped -- a catchy new melody.
But many Georgians were unimpressed -- like this man on the street
speaking to RFE/RL's Georgian Service.
"They used to criticize our football and rugby international players
because they didn't sing the last national anthem," the man said.
"But you tell me how they're going to sing this one. Very
interesting! Nobody will be able to sing it. Then everyone will ask
again why they're not singing. Because they won't be able to sing it!"
Or this man, who clearly thought the old Soviet Georgian anthem
couldn't be bettered.
"It needs the sort of words that will give you goose pimples," he
said. "I remember how the anthem used to be. 'Eternal glory to the
nation' -- what do you think of that, eh? Pretty damn good!"
Anthem Tidbits
For every republic of the former Soviet Union, there is a similar
saga. Post-Soviet Moldova briefly adopted the Romanian anthem,
but abandoned it in favor of a new song to reflect the individual
Moldovan identity. That anthem is called "Our Language" -- which in
Moldova is virtually identical to Romanian.
In Kyrgyzstan, a debate continues to simmer over its post-Soviet
anthem. The source of contention is a single word, "beikut," which --
according to which Kyrgyz dialect you're speaking, can mean either
"peace" or "bad luck."
Russia's Republic of Tatarstan, meanwhile, had no individual anthem
during the Soviet era. But it adopted an anthem after the revival
of its statehood. That song is now played at all official events,
together with the Russian anthem.
But to return to Armenia, where a 22-person commission made up of the
country's wisest and best has been sifting through 85 candidates to
come up with a new anthem.
It's a heavy burden, as one of the judges, Culture Minister Hasmik
Poghosian, makes clear in remarks to RFE/RL's Armenian Service.
"When we really are no longer 'wretched' and 'forsaken,' I'll enter
the anthem competition myself." -- Felix Bakhchinian"It's been very
difficult. When you have to listen to one song after another... And
clearly you can't feel the same way about all of them," Poghosian
said. "And it would have been wrong to make a quick decision and
immediately announce the winner."
It's hard work made harder still by some unrelenting criticism of
the whole project.
Felix Bakhchinian, director of the Charents Literature and Art Museum
in Yerevan, is one of many who think this is not the time for choosing
a new anthem.
"I too want to get rid of references to the motherland as 'wretched
and forsaken,' like we have in the existing anthem," Bakhchinian
said. "But we need to solve more pressing problems before we begin
talking about the anthem and other state attributes. Right now we
have higher priorities to meet. And when we really are no longer
'wretched' and 'forsaken,' I'll enter the anthem competition myself."
Harsh words from a man highly respected in the world of Armenian art.
But not harsh enough to stop the commission. It's narrowed the field
down to five finalists -- and word is that one song is head and
shoulders above the rest.
Its lyrics, based on a poem by early 20th-century poet Yeghishe
Charents, drops much of the grim imagery in favor of praise for the
"sun-baked taste of Armenian words."
Whatever their views on the tune and its lyrics, Armenia's legislators
would be wise to pay attention. If parliament adopts its planned new
code of ethics, legislators will have to demonstrate that they can
sing all the words.
By Robert Parsons
Radio Free Europe, Czech Rep.
Aug. 24, 2006
Emblems, flags and national anthems. There are few things, it seems,
more likely to stimulate the energies and passions of legislators in
the fledgling states of the old Soviet Union. Now, it is Armenia's
turn.
PRAGUE, August 24, 2006 (RFE/RL) -- The mood is a little fractious in
the Armenian capital this summer, and the weather isn't helping. The
mercury has climbed inexorably above 40 degrees Celsius.
But not even the boiling sun can match the heat generated by the
debate over whether Armenia should ditch its national anthem and adopt
something more modern, more attuned to today's national aspirations.
The very idea, according to the nationalist Dashnaktsutiun Party --
which forms part of the coalition government -- is tantamount to
sacrilege. The Dashnaks like things just as they are.
"Mer Hayrenik," or "Our Fatherland," was penned by Mikael Ghazavi
Nalbandian, one of the most revered nationalist figures of the 19th
century, and adopted as the national anthem by the short-lived Armenian
state of 1918-20.
Thereafter it was banned by the Bolsheviks and became a hymn of protest
before being reinstated as the national anthem when Armenia declared
its independence in 1991.
So why change it now?
Take a look on Armenian blogsite blogrel.com and you get an idea why.
The song is too wimpy, complains one visitor -- and too gloomy.
Take verse three. None of the usual chest-thumping banality of national
anthems here. But perhaps not calculated, either, to fill the hearts
of young schoolchildren with patriotic joy.
Death is the same everywhere; People die only once.
Lucky are the ones that are Sacrificed for the freedom of the nation.
Armenia is, of course, not the first post-Soviet state to go through
the agonies of this debate.
Russia fretted over it through the 1990s, briefly replacing the Soviet
anthem with a temporary lyric-free piece by 19th-century composer
Mikhail Glinka.
A 22-person commission made up of Armenia's wisest and best has been
sifting through 85 candidates to come up with a new anthem.
In 2000, it once again reverted to the Soviet-era melody -- albeit with
new words to replace paeans to "Lenin's ideas" and the "unbreakable
union" of the Soviet state.
"Sacred Russia," the new version proclaims, "protected by God."
But divine care was not enough to persuade liberals like Grigory
Yavlinsky, leader of the opposition Yabloko party, who warned that
the reversion to the Soviet tune was a harbinger of terrible things.
Georgia's Trials
In Georgia, too, the debate was fierce. But no nostalgia there. Two
years ago, it ditched the existing post-Soviet anthem in favor of a
new song.
Legislators said the fresh tune had more appropriate lyrics and --
so they hoped -- a catchy new melody.
But many Georgians were unimpressed -- like this man on the street
speaking to RFE/RL's Georgian Service.
"They used to criticize our football and rugby international players
because they didn't sing the last national anthem," the man said.
"But you tell me how they're going to sing this one. Very
interesting! Nobody will be able to sing it. Then everyone will ask
again why they're not singing. Because they won't be able to sing it!"
Or this man, who clearly thought the old Soviet Georgian anthem
couldn't be bettered.
"It needs the sort of words that will give you goose pimples," he
said. "I remember how the anthem used to be. 'Eternal glory to the
nation' -- what do you think of that, eh? Pretty damn good!"
Anthem Tidbits
For every republic of the former Soviet Union, there is a similar
saga. Post-Soviet Moldova briefly adopted the Romanian anthem,
but abandoned it in favor of a new song to reflect the individual
Moldovan identity. That anthem is called "Our Language" -- which in
Moldova is virtually identical to Romanian.
In Kyrgyzstan, a debate continues to simmer over its post-Soviet
anthem. The source of contention is a single word, "beikut," which --
according to which Kyrgyz dialect you're speaking, can mean either
"peace" or "bad luck."
Russia's Republic of Tatarstan, meanwhile, had no individual anthem
during the Soviet era. But it adopted an anthem after the revival
of its statehood. That song is now played at all official events,
together with the Russian anthem.
But to return to Armenia, where a 22-person commission made up of the
country's wisest and best has been sifting through 85 candidates to
come up with a new anthem.
It's a heavy burden, as one of the judges, Culture Minister Hasmik
Poghosian, makes clear in remarks to RFE/RL's Armenian Service.
"When we really are no longer 'wretched' and 'forsaken,' I'll enter
the anthem competition myself." -- Felix Bakhchinian"It's been very
difficult. When you have to listen to one song after another... And
clearly you can't feel the same way about all of them," Poghosian
said. "And it would have been wrong to make a quick decision and
immediately announce the winner."
It's hard work made harder still by some unrelenting criticism of
the whole project.
Felix Bakhchinian, director of the Charents Literature and Art Museum
in Yerevan, is one of many who think this is not the time for choosing
a new anthem.
"I too want to get rid of references to the motherland as 'wretched
and forsaken,' like we have in the existing anthem," Bakhchinian
said. "But we need to solve more pressing problems before we begin
talking about the anthem and other state attributes. Right now we
have higher priorities to meet. And when we really are no longer
'wretched' and 'forsaken,' I'll enter the anthem competition myself."
Harsh words from a man highly respected in the world of Armenian art.
But not harsh enough to stop the commission. It's narrowed the field
down to five finalists -- and word is that one song is head and
shoulders above the rest.
Its lyrics, based on a poem by early 20th-century poet Yeghishe
Charents, drops much of the grim imagery in favor of praise for the
"sun-baked taste of Armenian words."
Whatever their views on the tune and its lyrics, Armenia's legislators
would be wise to pay attention. If parliament adopts its planned new
code of ethics, legislators will have to demonstrate that they can
sing all the words.