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INTERSECTIONS: MISSING MULTICULTURALISM IN ARMENIA
Liana Aghajanian
Glendale News Press
Aug 17, 2011
Long before wars, closed borders and power struggles turned Armenia and
Azerbaijan into mortal enemies and carved out an almost exclusively
mono-ethnic population in both countries, they each had sizable,
ethnically diverse populations living and working together.
A 1970s travel guide from Russian travel agency Intourist even calls
the Caucasus the most multinational area of the Soviet Union where
"people of more than 50 nationalities," including Armenians and Azeris,
"live and work there as a closely knit family."
While Armenia has seen a rise in tourism - with Italian, French and
German tourists feeling adventurous enough to charter the mountainous
country full of ancient monasteries and historical sites and Peace
Corps volunteers that are placed in unsuspecting cities around the
country - Armenia remains largely, well, Armenian.
For this culture-loving Los Angeles native, with roots in Iran and
Greece and an affinity for Bollywood films, Mexican art and Pad Thai,
the mono-ethnicism of the country has been a difficult concept to
deal with.
As the weeks in Armenia have passed by in rapid succession, with
the unforgiving sun beating down during the day, while a flurry
of cooling thunderstorms have emerged in the evening, I am forever
craving diversity, the ability for ethnic groups to coexist peacefully
in this region, without the threat of war, nationalism or prejudice -
for the ability to realize that having an affinity for other cultures
doesn't negate the importance or meaning of your own.
It was with this yearning for the diversity that Los Angeles affords,
with a bevy of faces and cultures intermingling together at any given
time that I took a trip to Tbilisi, Georgia, a city which turned out to
be an example of what this entire region, fraught with closed borders,
propaganda machines and nationalist rhetoric should be.
In Tbilisi, a city of astounding historic architecture and
multiculturalism, Armenians, Georgians and Azeris call each other
brothers. They do business together, toast together and spend
afternoons selling enough paraphernalia at Tbilisi's swap meet -
the Dry Bridge Market - to enchant any Soviet-era sympathizer.
Sergei, an Armenian seller flanked by huge portraits of Stalin and
19th-century Armenian couples from Tbilisi, said the friction between
Armenians and Azeris is purely political.
"There are crazy people in every ethnicity, but we have no problems
here," he said.
Further down, another seller, upon finding out I was Armenian,
joyfully told me his mother was Azeri and father Armenian. In an
Azeri tea house run by an Armenian family, an Azeri customer speaks
fluent Armenian. Locals that I seemed to spontaneously run into made
it a point to tell me the so-called "ethnic conflicts" were all down
to government decisions and had nothing to do with ordinary people.
With awe, I left Tbilisi and returned to Yerevan on a minibus,
realizing how important diversity, whether it be ethnic or otherwise,
was to my daily life and how stifling and claustrophobic its
non-existence in Yerevan was.
This region (and its history) is a complicated one, full of mourning
and tragedy, but it's also a cradle of civilization and immense
culture.
And while my few days worth of conversation simplifies eons worth of
questions, concerns and situations, it was a glimmer of hope, however
small, that peaceful coexistence and the multicultural richness that
follows aren't as elusive as they seem.
LIANA AGHAJANIAN is a writer and editor who has been covering arts,
culture and news in print and online for a number of years.
Liana Aghajanian
Glendale News Press
Aug 17, 2011
Long before wars, closed borders and power struggles turned Armenia and
Azerbaijan into mortal enemies and carved out an almost exclusively
mono-ethnic population in both countries, they each had sizable,
ethnically diverse populations living and working together.
A 1970s travel guide from Russian travel agency Intourist even calls
the Caucasus the most multinational area of the Soviet Union where
"people of more than 50 nationalities," including Armenians and Azeris,
"live and work there as a closely knit family."
While Armenia has seen a rise in tourism - with Italian, French and
German tourists feeling adventurous enough to charter the mountainous
country full of ancient monasteries and historical sites and Peace
Corps volunteers that are placed in unsuspecting cities around the
country - Armenia remains largely, well, Armenian.
For this culture-loving Los Angeles native, with roots in Iran and
Greece and an affinity for Bollywood films, Mexican art and Pad Thai,
the mono-ethnicism of the country has been a difficult concept to
deal with.
As the weeks in Armenia have passed by in rapid succession, with
the unforgiving sun beating down during the day, while a flurry
of cooling thunderstorms have emerged in the evening, I am forever
craving diversity, the ability for ethnic groups to coexist peacefully
in this region, without the threat of war, nationalism or prejudice -
for the ability to realize that having an affinity for other cultures
doesn't negate the importance or meaning of your own.
It was with this yearning for the diversity that Los Angeles affords,
with a bevy of faces and cultures intermingling together at any given
time that I took a trip to Tbilisi, Georgia, a city which turned out to
be an example of what this entire region, fraught with closed borders,
propaganda machines and nationalist rhetoric should be.
In Tbilisi, a city of astounding historic architecture and
multiculturalism, Armenians, Georgians and Azeris call each other
brothers. They do business together, toast together and spend
afternoons selling enough paraphernalia at Tbilisi's swap meet -
the Dry Bridge Market - to enchant any Soviet-era sympathizer.
Sergei, an Armenian seller flanked by huge portraits of Stalin and
19th-century Armenian couples from Tbilisi, said the friction between
Armenians and Azeris is purely political.
"There are crazy people in every ethnicity, but we have no problems
here," he said.
Further down, another seller, upon finding out I was Armenian,
joyfully told me his mother was Azeri and father Armenian. In an
Azeri tea house run by an Armenian family, an Azeri customer speaks
fluent Armenian. Locals that I seemed to spontaneously run into made
it a point to tell me the so-called "ethnic conflicts" were all down
to government decisions and had nothing to do with ordinary people.
With awe, I left Tbilisi and returned to Yerevan on a minibus,
realizing how important diversity, whether it be ethnic or otherwise,
was to my daily life and how stifling and claustrophobic its
non-existence in Yerevan was.
This region (and its history) is a complicated one, full of mourning
and tragedy, but it's also a cradle of civilization and immense
culture.
And while my few days worth of conversation simplifies eons worth of
questions, concerns and situations, it was a glimmer of hope, however
small, that peaceful coexistence and the multicultural richness that
follows aren't as elusive as they seem.
LIANA AGHAJANIAN is a writer and editor who has been covering arts,
culture and news in print and online for a number of years.