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RECONCILIATION AND RECRIMINATIONS
Barbara Frye
Transitions On Line
http://www.tol.cz/look/TOL/article.tpl?IdLang uage=1&IdPublication=4&NrIssue=319&NrS ection=3&NrArticle=20538
April 28 2009
Czech Republic
As their government makes overtures to an old foe, many Armenians
still wait for an apology.
YEREVAN | Standing in a threadbare tweed blazer on a sunny day in late
April, Zohrab Shahbazyan brushed a tear from his cheek as he watched
goose-stepping soldiers carry a large wreath across a plaza. Their
destination was Yerevan's hilltop memorial to 1.5 million Armenians
killed or driven from their homes in Turkey nearly 100 years ago.
Shahbazyan, 75, had come here on 24 April, the day in 1915 that the
Ottoman government arrested more than 200 Armenian intellectuals. Most
were killed in the beginning of a campaign to drive Armenians out of
eastern Turkey during World War I. Many who survived the massacres
were marched into the deserts of Mesopotamia and Syria without food
or water.
Like most Armenians in the homeland and throughout the country's vast
diaspora, Shahbazyan said he lost ancestors - 31 of 48 - in what his
government and nearly two dozen others have termed a genocide. And
like much of Yerevan, he had walked slowly up the hill today holding
a single flower, which he would place on a ring around a flame at
the center of the memorial.
President Serzh Sargsyan (left) and other dignitaries attend a
commemoration ceremony on 24 April in Yerevan. Photo by Barbara Frye.
"Genocide is not just killing people. They exterminated the whole
nation," he said. "One and a half million Armenians were not buried
on their land."
In its rituals - prayers by golden-robed leaders of the Armenian
Apostolic Church, a visit from the president, an endless procession
of flower-bearing pilgrims - the day was like nearly every 24 April
since the memorial opened in 1967.
But it was also different. This year it took place days after the
governments of Turkey and Armenia had announced plans to open the
border between the two countries, which has been closed since 1993. It
was the latest in a series of remarkable events over the past two
years that have included an invitation from Armenian President Serzh
Sargsyan to Turkish President Abdullah Gul to attend a soccer match
between the two countries in Yerevan and a public apology from a
group of Turkish intellectuals to the people of Armenia.
But Shahbazyan was ready to forgive only on condition that Turkey give
up the territory that many Armenians (and Armenia's now-superseded
1990 declaration of independence) refer to as "western Armenia."
Michael Gulyar had also come to pay his respects. At 19, he is more
than 50 years Shahbazyan's junior. His grandfather escaped the pogroms
in Turkey, and of his family, he said, "They don't want to find terms
with the Turks."
But he has a different view. "Turkey has changed," he said. "Many
Turkish have a European mentality."
And while he condemns the killings and expulsions, he said he
understands how complicated the idea of apologizing can be for
Turkey. "Now it is difficult because when Turkey recognizes the
genocide, they must give back land." The question of reparations
lingers, despite many officials' efforts to discourage such
expectations. The Armenian Revolutionary Federation, a political party
that just left the governing coalition over the deal with Turkey,
still calls for land and property in Turkey to be returned to the
descendants of its Armenian owners.
Outside Armenia, many analysts and diplomats have welcomed the
Turkish-Armenian thaw, but inside the country, it's clear that some
are more ready than others.
"We're coming to the stage when we must speak more openly to the
public about their neighbors," Edward Nalbandian, the Armenian foreign
minister, said. "If you live somewhere and all your neighbors will
not be [your] friends, how could you live?"
Armenia is largely isolated in its southern Caucasus neighborhood. In
addition to the closed border with Turkey, movement and trade between
it and its eastern neighbor, Azerbaijan, are frozen due to the conflict
between the two countries over Nagorno-Karabakh, an enclave within
Azerbaijan that is occupied by ethnic Armenians. The two sides fought a
war over the land in the early 1990s and a sporadically broken cease
fire is in place.
Turkey closed its border with Armenia in 1993, in solidarity with its
ally Azerbaijan after an advance by Armenian troops into Azerbaijani
territory.
For years, Armenian officials have insisted that the border closures
have not hampered progress, and there is some evidence for that. For
more than a decade before the financial crisis hit last year, the
country's economy grew annually by double digits and its poverty
rate dropped. But, although Nalbandian said the diplomatic overtures
began in May 2008, the August war between Georgia and Russia crimped
Armenia's trade flows and lent some urgency to a rapprochement with
its western neighbor.
Public opinion on the issue is difficult to gauge comprehensively. Some
Armenian analysts caution against relying on opinion polls, but they
note that Rule of Law, the political party most strongly against
reconciliation, took just 7 percent of the votes in the most recent
parliamentary elections.
But those numbers don't tell the whole story. The Armenian
Revolutionary Federation took 13 percent of the vote. "Fifteen years of
blockade have not produced the intended result," said Kiro Manoyan,
an ARF official, saying that there have been neither deaths from
starvation nor economic disaster and that Armenia does not urgently
need trade with Turkey. "It hasn't been the end of us. We have managed
to survive."
Manoyan said his party favors an open border, but without
preconditions. Turkey has long demanded the withdrawal of Armenian
forces from Azerbaijani territories ringing Nagorno-Karabakh, which
Armenia deems a security zone for the enclave. Because Turkey has
sent recent signals that it would not lift this condition, and because
the governments have not released details of their agreement, Manoyan
said he can only assume that the Armenian government is acceding to
Istanbul's demands.
Like Manoyan, Stepan Safaryan, a member of parliament from the
opposition Heritage Party, said, "The point is not whether we open
the border. The point is how and at what price."
WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS
With deep-seated enmities, the passage of time and the emergence
of a new generation typically helps to heal wounds. But in Yerevan,
not all the signs point in one direction.
Adjacent to the genocide memorial sits a museum, opened in 1995. On
commemoration day, parents led their children, some as young as 3 or
4, past old photos, enlarged to about 6 square meters, of Turkish
soldiers posing proudly behind the decapitated heads of Armenian
religious leaders, of an Armenian woman and her two young children
who had starved to death and whose emaciated bodies had been left to
bake in the desert sun, of white-coated Armenian doctors hanging from
a gallows.
Suren Manukyan, the museum's deputy director, said, "We understand
that it is very difficult for Turks to accept that their grandfathers
were murderers. This museum is part of Turkish history, too. The
recognition of the Armenian genocide is not just a problem for Armenian
society. It's a problem for Turkish society, too."
Manukyan said he sees a change in Turkey. "The first step is a
discussion. I think in Turkey now we have this discussion."
The 2007 murder of Turkish-Armenian journalist Hrant Dink in Istanbul
by a Turkish nationalist provoked an outcry in Turkey, with tens of
thousands of Turks attending his funeral. In December a group of
Turkish intellectuals posted an online apology for the events of
1915-1917 in the form of a petition. It has been signed by nearly
30,000 people around the world.
"Who could envision, just one year ago, two years ago, that 30,000
Turks could sign a petition to ask for [forgiveness] from the Armenian
people?" Foreign Minister Nalbandian said.
Whether they will get it is an open question. Takoulte Moutoufian, 42,
was among those parents bringing their children to the museum that
day. Asked what she and her husband were teaching their two sons,
ages 14 and 9, about Turks, she said, "That they are our enemy."
Barbara Frye
Transitions On Line
http://www.tol.cz/look/TOL/article.tpl?IdLang uage=1&IdPublication=4&NrIssue=319&NrS ection=3&NrArticle=20538
April 28 2009
Czech Republic
As their government makes overtures to an old foe, many Armenians
still wait for an apology.
YEREVAN | Standing in a threadbare tweed blazer on a sunny day in late
April, Zohrab Shahbazyan brushed a tear from his cheek as he watched
goose-stepping soldiers carry a large wreath across a plaza. Their
destination was Yerevan's hilltop memorial to 1.5 million Armenians
killed or driven from their homes in Turkey nearly 100 years ago.
Shahbazyan, 75, had come here on 24 April, the day in 1915 that the
Ottoman government arrested more than 200 Armenian intellectuals. Most
were killed in the beginning of a campaign to drive Armenians out of
eastern Turkey during World War I. Many who survived the massacres
were marched into the deserts of Mesopotamia and Syria without food
or water.
Like most Armenians in the homeland and throughout the country's vast
diaspora, Shahbazyan said he lost ancestors - 31 of 48 - in what his
government and nearly two dozen others have termed a genocide. And
like much of Yerevan, he had walked slowly up the hill today holding
a single flower, which he would place on a ring around a flame at
the center of the memorial.
President Serzh Sargsyan (left) and other dignitaries attend a
commemoration ceremony on 24 April in Yerevan. Photo by Barbara Frye.
"Genocide is not just killing people. They exterminated the whole
nation," he said. "One and a half million Armenians were not buried
on their land."
In its rituals - prayers by golden-robed leaders of the Armenian
Apostolic Church, a visit from the president, an endless procession
of flower-bearing pilgrims - the day was like nearly every 24 April
since the memorial opened in 1967.
But it was also different. This year it took place days after the
governments of Turkey and Armenia had announced plans to open the
border between the two countries, which has been closed since 1993. It
was the latest in a series of remarkable events over the past two
years that have included an invitation from Armenian President Serzh
Sargsyan to Turkish President Abdullah Gul to attend a soccer match
between the two countries in Yerevan and a public apology from a
group of Turkish intellectuals to the people of Armenia.
But Shahbazyan was ready to forgive only on condition that Turkey give
up the territory that many Armenians (and Armenia's now-superseded
1990 declaration of independence) refer to as "western Armenia."
Michael Gulyar had also come to pay his respects. At 19, he is more
than 50 years Shahbazyan's junior. His grandfather escaped the pogroms
in Turkey, and of his family, he said, "They don't want to find terms
with the Turks."
But he has a different view. "Turkey has changed," he said. "Many
Turkish have a European mentality."
And while he condemns the killings and expulsions, he said he
understands how complicated the idea of apologizing can be for
Turkey. "Now it is difficult because when Turkey recognizes the
genocide, they must give back land." The question of reparations
lingers, despite many officials' efforts to discourage such
expectations. The Armenian Revolutionary Federation, a political party
that just left the governing coalition over the deal with Turkey,
still calls for land and property in Turkey to be returned to the
descendants of its Armenian owners.
Outside Armenia, many analysts and diplomats have welcomed the
Turkish-Armenian thaw, but inside the country, it's clear that some
are more ready than others.
"We're coming to the stage when we must speak more openly to the
public about their neighbors," Edward Nalbandian, the Armenian foreign
minister, said. "If you live somewhere and all your neighbors will
not be [your] friends, how could you live?"
Armenia is largely isolated in its southern Caucasus neighborhood. In
addition to the closed border with Turkey, movement and trade between
it and its eastern neighbor, Azerbaijan, are frozen due to the conflict
between the two countries over Nagorno-Karabakh, an enclave within
Azerbaijan that is occupied by ethnic Armenians. The two sides fought a
war over the land in the early 1990s and a sporadically broken cease
fire is in place.
Turkey closed its border with Armenia in 1993, in solidarity with its
ally Azerbaijan after an advance by Armenian troops into Azerbaijani
territory.
For years, Armenian officials have insisted that the border closures
have not hampered progress, and there is some evidence for that. For
more than a decade before the financial crisis hit last year, the
country's economy grew annually by double digits and its poverty
rate dropped. But, although Nalbandian said the diplomatic overtures
began in May 2008, the August war between Georgia and Russia crimped
Armenia's trade flows and lent some urgency to a rapprochement with
its western neighbor.
Public opinion on the issue is difficult to gauge comprehensively. Some
Armenian analysts caution against relying on opinion polls, but they
note that Rule of Law, the political party most strongly against
reconciliation, took just 7 percent of the votes in the most recent
parliamentary elections.
But those numbers don't tell the whole story. The Armenian
Revolutionary Federation took 13 percent of the vote. "Fifteen years of
blockade have not produced the intended result," said Kiro Manoyan,
an ARF official, saying that there have been neither deaths from
starvation nor economic disaster and that Armenia does not urgently
need trade with Turkey. "It hasn't been the end of us. We have managed
to survive."
Manoyan said his party favors an open border, but without
preconditions. Turkey has long demanded the withdrawal of Armenian
forces from Azerbaijani territories ringing Nagorno-Karabakh, which
Armenia deems a security zone for the enclave. Because Turkey has
sent recent signals that it would not lift this condition, and because
the governments have not released details of their agreement, Manoyan
said he can only assume that the Armenian government is acceding to
Istanbul's demands.
Like Manoyan, Stepan Safaryan, a member of parliament from the
opposition Heritage Party, said, "The point is not whether we open
the border. The point is how and at what price."
WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS
With deep-seated enmities, the passage of time and the emergence
of a new generation typically helps to heal wounds. But in Yerevan,
not all the signs point in one direction.
Adjacent to the genocide memorial sits a museum, opened in 1995. On
commemoration day, parents led their children, some as young as 3 or
4, past old photos, enlarged to about 6 square meters, of Turkish
soldiers posing proudly behind the decapitated heads of Armenian
religious leaders, of an Armenian woman and her two young children
who had starved to death and whose emaciated bodies had been left to
bake in the desert sun, of white-coated Armenian doctors hanging from
a gallows.
Suren Manukyan, the museum's deputy director, said, "We understand
that it is very difficult for Turks to accept that their grandfathers
were murderers. This museum is part of Turkish history, too. The
recognition of the Armenian genocide is not just a problem for Armenian
society. It's a problem for Turkish society, too."
Manukyan said he sees a change in Turkey. "The first step is a
discussion. I think in Turkey now we have this discussion."
The 2007 murder of Turkish-Armenian journalist Hrant Dink in Istanbul
by a Turkish nationalist provoked an outcry in Turkey, with tens of
thousands of Turks attending his funeral. In December a group of
Turkish intellectuals posted an online apology for the events of
1915-1917 in the form of a petition. It has been signed by nearly
30,000 people around the world.
"Who could envision, just one year ago, two years ago, that 30,000
Turks could sign a petition to ask for [forgiveness] from the Armenian
people?" Foreign Minister Nalbandian said.
Whether they will get it is an open question. Takoulte Moutoufian, 42,
was among those parents bringing their children to the museum that
day. Asked what she and her husband were teaching their two sons,
ages 14 and 9, about Turks, she said, "That they are our enemy."