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In Lebanon's Patchwork, a Focus on Armenians' Political Might
By ROBERT F. WORTH
Published: May 25, 2009
BEIRUT, Lebanon - Their political apparatus is a model of
discipline. Their vast array of social services is a virtual state
within a state. Their enemies accuse them of being pawns of Syria and
Iran.
They are the Armenian Christians of Lebanon, one of the Middle East's
most singular and least-understood communities. And if they sound a
bit like Hezbollah, the Shiite militant group based here, that is no
accident.
Last month, the main Armenian political bloc decided to support
Hezbollah's alliance in the coming parliamentary elections in Lebanon
against the pro-American parliamentary majority. Because of their role
as a crucial swing vote, the Armenians could end up deciding who wins
and who loses in what is often described as a proxy battle between
Iran, Hezbollah's patron, and the West.
That fact has brought new attention to the Armenians, a distinct and
borderless ethnic group that is spread throughout the region much as
the Jews once were. In Lebanon, they have their own schools, hospitals
and newspapers.
They speak their own language, with its own alphabet. Their main
political party, Tashnaq, operates in 35 countries and has a secretive
world committee that meets four times a year. Their collective memory
of the genocide carried out against them in Turkey from 1915 to 1918
helps maintain their identity in a far-flung diaspora.
`There is a sense of invisible nationhood across borders,'
said Paul Haidostian, the president of Haigazian University, the
Armenian university in Beirut.
In fact, their political enemies here accuse the Armenians of siding
with Hezbollah in order to protect the substantial Armenian
populations in Syria and Iran. But the Armenian political leadership
says it is fully independent and has no ideological sympathy for
either of Lebanon's two main political camps.
Instead, the Armenians say, they are voting with the opposition for
reasons that are entirely local and pragmatic: it offered them full
control over the parliamentary seats in Armenian-dominated
districts. The other side did not, said Hovig Mekhitarian, the
chairman of the Lebanese branch of Tashnaq.
`We want candidates who represent our community,' Mr. Mekhitarian
said. `We are not with the opposition, and not with the majority.'
That dynamic is common enough in Lebanon, a checkerboard of mutually
suspicious sectarian groups that are usually more concerned with
protecting their own interests than with advancing any broader
national or regional agenda.
But even in Lebanon, the Armenians stand out for their
independence. During the 1975-1990 civil war, the Armenians refused to
take sides. Tashnaq discouraged its members from leaving the country
(though many Armenians did leave), in deference to Lebanese
patriotism. Officially, the party is socialist, but its only real
credo is survival.
Mr. Haidostian said: `I remember when I used to get stopped at a
checkpoint, they would ask, `Are you Christian or Muslim?' I
would say `Armenian,' and it was like a third category. They didn't
know what to do.'
Despite the risks, many Armenians say they find Lebanon a uniquely
accommodating place, largely because its weak state allows them to
live almost as a separate nation. `There is something tentative about
Lebanese identity, and in that questioning Armenians have found a
comfortable space,' Mr. Haidostian said.
Although there have been Armenians here for centuries, they first came
in large numbers after the genocide. Later wars and crises led to more
migration, increasing the size of the Lebanese Armenian community to
240,000 by the 1970s. The creation of the independent state of Armenia
in 1918 had provided refuge to some, but its small size and role as a
Soviet client state after 1920 set limits on its role as an Armenian
homeland.
In Lebanon, the Armenians had an unusual mix of freedom and
insecurity, allowing them to practice their religion and culture, but
also limiting their assimilation into the general culture. In the
United States, Armenians often marry outside their group and are less
likely to speak their own language; here, they remain far more
distinct.
The Beirut neighborhood of Bourj Hamoud is a kind of miniature
Armenia, with shop signs written in Armenian script and a dense,
familial culture of working-class shops, homes and restaurants. The
Lebanese branch of Tashnaq is based there, flying the party's
distinctive banner bearing a pen, a shovel and a dagger - representing
ideology, work and struggle. There is also a rich network of schools,
orphanages, retirement homes and hospitals. Schoolchildren learn three
languages (and three different alphabets), and start on a fourth
language in the fourth grade.
Maintaining this independence requires political skill. During the
civil war, Bourj Hamoud was trapped geographically between Christian
and Palestinian areas, and its leaders had to work hard to avoid
becoming a target for either side.
Recently, that neutrality has been difficult to preserve. Tashnaq has
long been a de facto Syrian ally, partly because of Syria's former
military domination of Lebanon. After the Syrian withdrawal in 2005,
it remained in the Syrian political camp, mainly because it blamed the
other side for an electoral law that divided Armenian districts and
reduced its power.
This spring, Saad Hariri, the leader of the pro-American parliamentary
majority, tried to mend fences with Tashnaq, which controls the vast
majority of Armenian votes. He had good reason: last year the
electoral law was revised in a way that restored the Armenians' power.
Lebanese Christians represent the swing vote in this election, and the
160,000-strong Armenian community is by far the most unified subgroup
of those votes. If Mr. Hariri could have persuaded Tashnaq to vote
with him, the balance might have tipped in his favor to defeat
Hezbollah and its allies.
He did not succeed. Mr. Mekhitarian said Mr. Hariri had not offered
enough. `He was really only offering one seat, and he wanted our
support in 15 other seats,' Mr. Mekhitarian said.
Members of Mr. Hariri's party who took part in the negotiations
offered a slightly different account. They said Mr. Hariri offered to
satisfy Tashnaq's demands on parliamentary seats, but only if the
party would commit firmly to supporting him before and after the
elections. It would not do so, they said.
That is not surprising. In a sense, the Armenians cannot afford to
make such political commitments. Like the Druse and other minorities
in Lebanon, they believe they must subordinate all ideological
principles to a nimble defense of their community.
By ROBERT F. WORTH
Published: May 25, 2009
BEIRUT, Lebanon - Their political apparatus is a model of
discipline. Their vast array of social services is a virtual state
within a state. Their enemies accuse them of being pawns of Syria and
Iran.
They are the Armenian Christians of Lebanon, one of the Middle East's
most singular and least-understood communities. And if they sound a
bit like Hezbollah, the Shiite militant group based here, that is no
accident.
Last month, the main Armenian political bloc decided to support
Hezbollah's alliance in the coming parliamentary elections in Lebanon
against the pro-American parliamentary majority. Because of their role
as a crucial swing vote, the Armenians could end up deciding who wins
and who loses in what is often described as a proxy battle between
Iran, Hezbollah's patron, and the West.
That fact has brought new attention to the Armenians, a distinct and
borderless ethnic group that is spread throughout the region much as
the Jews once were. In Lebanon, they have their own schools, hospitals
and newspapers.
They speak their own language, with its own alphabet. Their main
political party, Tashnaq, operates in 35 countries and has a secretive
world committee that meets four times a year. Their collective memory
of the genocide carried out against them in Turkey from 1915 to 1918
helps maintain their identity in a far-flung diaspora.
`There is a sense of invisible nationhood across borders,'
said Paul Haidostian, the president of Haigazian University, the
Armenian university in Beirut.
In fact, their political enemies here accuse the Armenians of siding
with Hezbollah in order to protect the substantial Armenian
populations in Syria and Iran. But the Armenian political leadership
says it is fully independent and has no ideological sympathy for
either of Lebanon's two main political camps.
Instead, the Armenians say, they are voting with the opposition for
reasons that are entirely local and pragmatic: it offered them full
control over the parliamentary seats in Armenian-dominated
districts. The other side did not, said Hovig Mekhitarian, the
chairman of the Lebanese branch of Tashnaq.
`We want candidates who represent our community,' Mr. Mekhitarian
said. `We are not with the opposition, and not with the majority.'
That dynamic is common enough in Lebanon, a checkerboard of mutually
suspicious sectarian groups that are usually more concerned with
protecting their own interests than with advancing any broader
national or regional agenda.
But even in Lebanon, the Armenians stand out for their
independence. During the 1975-1990 civil war, the Armenians refused to
take sides. Tashnaq discouraged its members from leaving the country
(though many Armenians did leave), in deference to Lebanese
patriotism. Officially, the party is socialist, but its only real
credo is survival.
Mr. Haidostian said: `I remember when I used to get stopped at a
checkpoint, they would ask, `Are you Christian or Muslim?' I
would say `Armenian,' and it was like a third category. They didn't
know what to do.'
Despite the risks, many Armenians say they find Lebanon a uniquely
accommodating place, largely because its weak state allows them to
live almost as a separate nation. `There is something tentative about
Lebanese identity, and in that questioning Armenians have found a
comfortable space,' Mr. Haidostian said.
Although there have been Armenians here for centuries, they first came
in large numbers after the genocide. Later wars and crises led to more
migration, increasing the size of the Lebanese Armenian community to
240,000 by the 1970s. The creation of the independent state of Armenia
in 1918 had provided refuge to some, but its small size and role as a
Soviet client state after 1920 set limits on its role as an Armenian
homeland.
In Lebanon, the Armenians had an unusual mix of freedom and
insecurity, allowing them to practice their religion and culture, but
also limiting their assimilation into the general culture. In the
United States, Armenians often marry outside their group and are less
likely to speak their own language; here, they remain far more
distinct.
The Beirut neighborhood of Bourj Hamoud is a kind of miniature
Armenia, with shop signs written in Armenian script and a dense,
familial culture of working-class shops, homes and restaurants. The
Lebanese branch of Tashnaq is based there, flying the party's
distinctive banner bearing a pen, a shovel and a dagger - representing
ideology, work and struggle. There is also a rich network of schools,
orphanages, retirement homes and hospitals. Schoolchildren learn three
languages (and three different alphabets), and start on a fourth
language in the fourth grade.
Maintaining this independence requires political skill. During the
civil war, Bourj Hamoud was trapped geographically between Christian
and Palestinian areas, and its leaders had to work hard to avoid
becoming a target for either side.
Recently, that neutrality has been difficult to preserve. Tashnaq has
long been a de facto Syrian ally, partly because of Syria's former
military domination of Lebanon. After the Syrian withdrawal in 2005,
it remained in the Syrian political camp, mainly because it blamed the
other side for an electoral law that divided Armenian districts and
reduced its power.
This spring, Saad Hariri, the leader of the pro-American parliamentary
majority, tried to mend fences with Tashnaq, which controls the vast
majority of Armenian votes. He had good reason: last year the
electoral law was revised in a way that restored the Armenians' power.
Lebanese Christians represent the swing vote in this election, and the
160,000-strong Armenian community is by far the most unified subgroup
of those votes. If Mr. Hariri could have persuaded Tashnaq to vote
with him, the balance might have tipped in his favor to defeat
Hezbollah and its allies.
He did not succeed. Mr. Mekhitarian said Mr. Hariri had not offered
enough. `He was really only offering one seat, and he wanted our
support in 15 other seats,' Mr. Mekhitarian said.
Members of Mr. Hariri's party who took part in the negotiations
offered a slightly different account. They said Mr. Hariri offered to
satisfy Tashnaq's demands on parliamentary seats, but only if the
party would commit firmly to supporting him before and after the
elections. It would not do so, they said.
That is not surprising. In a sense, the Armenians cannot afford to
make such political commitments. Like the Druse and other minorities
in Lebanon, they believe they must subordinate all ideological
principles to a nimble defense of their community.