The Armenians

The Armenians considers how the Armenian people have constructed their identity through the accumulation of historical experience and shared collective memory. The book takes the reader through the complex and often bloody historical events that the people of Armenia have experienced and tracks the evolution of their culture and politics up to their current situation as a small post-communist country poised between Europe and the Middle East and linked to a kaleidoscope of emigrant Armenian communities spread across the globe.

The Armenians are one of the oldest nations in existence, privileged to have one of the world’s most stable and persistent identities. The quality of ‘Armenianness’ has proved to be so resilient that it has endured for 2,000 years, even though in that time the Armenian people have been compelled to resist invasion, suffer persecution, tolerate alien rule and take desperate measures to escape, including several mass emigrations that led to global dispersion. They even managed to survive the twentieth century’s first large-scale genocide. In The Armenians a distinguished international team of social scientists seeks to explain how such confidence in a national identity came about, how it crystallized, and what Armenians today feel that they have derived from their spectacular past. The book pays considerable attention to the 1990s and 2000s, when post-Soviet Armenia has been building its independence, its political system, and its new economy and society. The book ends with an analysis of how the Armenian self-image has responded to the many challenges and contradictions thrown up by this rich store of experience.

The Armenians provides a comprehensive introduction to both the historical forces and the recent social and political developments that have shaped today’s Armenian people. With contributions from leading Armenian, American and European specialists, it sets out the themes and issues of contemporary research in the history and social science of this distinctive people. The authors include Richard G. Hovannisian, James R. Russell and Ronald G. Suny.

The editors: Edmund Herzig is a Senior Lecturer in Persian Studies at the University of Manchester. His research focuses on the history and politics of Iran, Central Asia and the Caucasian region. His many writings include a book on contemporary Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia, The New Caucasus, and a number of articles and book chapters on Armenian history and politics. Marina Kurkchiyan is a Fellow in Socio-legal Studies at the University of Oxford, specializing in the postcommunist transition in Armenia, Russia and Ukraine. Her research focuses on post-communist legal culture, social policy and the second economy. Her publications include works on economic crime in Russia, the interplay between law and informal practices, welfare reforms and research methodology.

The Armenians

Past and present in the making of national identity

Edited by

Edmund Herzig and

Marina Kurkchiyan

Maps

Transliteration and names

Except in chapter 2, ‘Early Armenian Civilization’, Armenian words are transliterated according to a simplified version of the Society for Armenian Studies system, with the diacritic accents omitted. Where accepted English forms of Armenian words and names exist, these are preferred to transliterated forms (e.g. Yerevan).

Many of the territories, towns and cities mentioned have undergone successive name changes over the centuries, often as a result of political changes such as conquests and revolutions. In general, we have used the names that will be most readily identifiable to the modern reader, while being appropriate to the context. In some cases, the name that was current (among Armenians) in the period under consideration is preferred, provided that does not obscure the identity of the place for the modern reader. Thus, for the nineteenth century we use Tiflis (Tbilisi, today the capital of Georgia) and Transcaucasia (today more commonly referred to as the South Caucasus). The more familiar (Mountainous) Karabagh, however, is used rather than Armenian (Lernayin) Gharabagh or Russian (Nagornyi) Karabakh. In some cases, for the sake of clarity, alternative versions or names of places are given in parentheses, e.g. Alexandropol (Leninakan, Kumayri, Gyumri). The forms Yerevan and Etchmiadzin are used throughout.

Personal names are given in transliterated forms, except where there is a generally accepted English spelling.

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2 Acknowledgements

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13111 We wish to thank our fellow contributors, who responded so constructively

14to the idea of producing a book that would take the reader on a journey into

15the past and present of the Armenian nation. In keeping with the book’s

16subject, they are scattered across the world in small clusters in Armenia,

17Britain and the USA, but their willingness to respond to our editorial

18suggestions nevertheless converted them into a cooperative team. We are

19grateful for their contributions and for their patient collaboration through 20111 the various stages of preparation. If there is today such a thing as the

21Armenian mind, their collective efforts have helped us to move towards

22some understanding of it.

23Thanks are due also to Vrezh Nersessian, who offered valuable advice

24when the book was still at the planning stage. Our greatest debt is to Nick

25Awde, who encouraged us to work on the book in the first place and whose

26maps do so much to help make sense of the long, tortuous and often terrible

27history of the Armenian people. The book is much better for his assistance,

28and it would not have existed at all without his initiative and drive.

29We are grateful to Michael Banks for his steady insistence that the 30111 English language should never be knowingly abused. Whatever polish the

31book may now possess owes much to the professionalism of the publishing

32team at Routledge and in particular to Heidi Bagtazo and Emma Davis, who

33dealt briskly and successfully with a series of niggling practicalities over

34which we had done little more than fret. Finally, it is a pleasure to thank the

35members of the Saryan family, who gave us their permission to reproduce

36on the cover a beautiful drawing by Martiros Saryan, ‘The Blessing of Old

37Men’. The picture celebrates traditional Armenian community values with

38characteristic style and wit, and for us it epitomizes what we hoped to

39achieve in this book.

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14Caucasus have re-emerged into international affairs. This book is about one

15of them, the Armenians, of whom a minority live in the homeland state and

16the majority in one or another of a scattered series of communities across

17the world that are collectively known as the diaspora.1 The purpose here is

18to explain who these people are, where they come from, what has made them

19the way they are, what their concerns are, and how it feels to be Armenian at 20111 the beginning of the twenty-first century. The focus throughout is on the

21common thread that links these things together: identity. To explore this

22 theme, the editors brought together contributions by specialists from

23Armenia itself as well as from Europe and North America. Each author was

24encouraged to try to provide a readable, fresh and up-to-date account, so

25that descriptions of a variety of topics ranging from early civilization and

26religion to contemporary politics and social problems all blend into a single

27holistic discussion. The aim is that the finished volume should open a

28window on to the world of the Armenians.

29The world of the Armenians is unusually complex, and not only because 30111 they are one of the world’s oldest nations. They live in many different states

31and cultures across the world because their homeland has an exceptionally

32 troubled history of being repeatedly subjected to invasion, looting and

33massacre over a two-thousand-year period. The majority of the people now

34live far away from the lands between the Black Sea and the Caspian, in cities

35like Buenos Aires or Los Angeles, even though they continue to think of

36themselves as Armenians. Even those who still live in the ancient capital city,

37Yerevan, are cut off from the most emotive geographical symbol of the

38Armenian homeland, Mount Ararat. Any attempt at travel in that direction

39is stopped at a heavily guarded border with Turkey.

2 M. Kurkchiyan and E. Herzig

11111 the conflicts aroused by its history and the clashing interpretations of them.

2Specific debates go all the way back to a set of unanswered questions about

3the ancient origins of the society and culture, and continue all the way down

6Contested issues vary from the relatively minor, such as the current depen-

7dence of the entire economy upon the recent reactivation of a single nuclear

9shocking episodes like the Genocide of 1915 or the Karabagh war with

10111 Azerbaijan in the 1990s. Controversies like these have provoked fierce

11academic exchanges between competing schools of thought. But this book

12makes no attempt to engage such partisan arguments in detail, preferring to

13111 stand away from them wherever possible in order to focus on what

14Armenians have in common rather than on their disagreements, and to iden-

15tify the ideas and experiences that are significant to all of them.

21chronological order and deal with history. Rather, it is designed to explore

22the different strands of Armenian identity and to highlight features, contem-

23porary as well as historical, that might help an observer to see the world

24through Armenian eyes. As in all national communities, the Armenian web

25of significance is formed by the collective memory. Memory is not itself

26history; it is a ‘socially constructed’ selection from history that provides a

27shared account of where Armenians came from, the things that they did

28themselves and the things done to them by others, and how and why they

29came to be so widely dispersed today. Within the selection is a multiplicity of 30111 different strands, among them religion, language, culture, family, literature,

31music and art. For each member of the community, the single most tightly

32binding thread may be different from the one that links someone else into

33the weave, but the web as a whole is the stronger for its elaborateness.

35the core of their self-image. A quick glance at the record helps to explain

36why. They can, and do, legitimately claim descent from the oldest cultures

37and most prominent civilizations of the region. The land that later came to

38be called Armenia is known to have been inhabited in the Palaeolithic and

39Mesolithic eras, and from the fourth millennium BC onwards it was home to 40111 people demonstrating inventiveness in technology and vitality in art. From

41the ninth to the sixth century BC the Urartean Empire flourished in the

Introduction 3

11111 Europe. The earliest known use of the terms ‘Armenian’ and ‘the

2Armenians’ occurred in the late sixth century BC. Russell describes how

6Urarteans, while others such as the Parthians were later arrivals. After his

7scrutiny of ancient Armenian religion and mythology, Russell is able to

8expose the extraordinary heterogeneity of the people’s origins. What appears

11Iranian, Semitic and Caucasian peoples predominant among them.

12Russell’s chapter takes the reader through the sixth, fifth and fourth 13111 centuries BC, when Armenia was a part of the Medean and Achaemenian

14empires, and on to the reign of Tigran II the Great in the first century BC. In

15Armenian society ever since, that final century before the beginning of

16Christianity has been celebrated. Although it was brief compared to the

17much longer historical epochs in later history, it became crucially important

18to the national self-image. Under Tigran II Armenia enjoyed an indepen-

19dence that permitted the growth of wealth, culture and civilization, before 20111 the country became a long-term battleground for the Roman (later the

21Byzantine), Persian and, in the following millennium, the Russian and

22Turkish empires. But even as the Romans imposed their law and values on

23the country, the single most important turning point for the Armenian iden-

24tity was reached: the official conversion of the entire people to Christianity.

25This took place early in the fourth century, in the year 301 AD according to

26the tradition of the Armenian Church. In the sixth century the church

27 rejected the authority of the Council of Chalcedon and became the

28Armenian Apostolic (Gregorian) Church, an autonomous branch of the

29world church.

30111 The culture laid heavy stress on these historical facts, so that the words 31 ‘Christian’, ‘first’ and ‘unique’ are embedded in the core of Armenian 32 mentality. Living on the edge of the Christian world among Muslim

33communities, Armenians used religion to set themselves apart symbolically

34from their neighbours. As the centuries passed, it was the Church, according

35to the Armenians’ strong belief, that preserved the nation and its culture

36from assimilation into the societies of a succession of overbearing military

37conquerors. Within Armenia’s ‘web of significance’, the Church was the one

38social institution that could resist one alien rulership after another, thereby

39preserving the psychological identity and cultural integrity of the scattered 40111 local communities both inside the homeland and abroad.

41The chapter by Boghos Levon Zekiyan reflects upon the significance of

42Christianity in Armenian history for the formation of the national ideology

43and the integrated perception, world-wide, of a single identity. Armenians

44themselves tend to assume that their early conversion to Christianity deter- 45111 mined an irreversible, permanent orientation to the West. But as Zekiyan

Introduction 5

11111 cultures, which meant that they were often called upon to act as cross-

2cultural brokers in economic and other dealings. Many of them became

3long-distance merchants. Of necessity they became mobile, adaptable and

4pragmatic. The effect was an early and successful encounter with modernity,

7Uniate order of the Mekhitarists in Constantinople in 1700, and the publi-

8cation of the first Armenian periodical in India, where Armenian merchant

11world during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, permeating one

12scattered pocket of Armenians after another, communities were first reinvig- 13111 orated and then inspired to build stronger mutual links both with one

14another and with the ancestral homeland. The cultural surge that followed is

15sometimes described as the veratznund, the rebirth.

16Even so, Armenians stepped into the nineteenth century a divided people.

17Each group was stamped with the culture, language and lifestyle of their

18particular overlords or, in the case of the many living in the diaspora, their

19hosts. Western Armenia, the main part of the historical homeland, was 20111 Ottoman, or Turkish; Eastern Armenia was initially Persian, although most

21of it subsequently became Russian as the Tsars expanded their conquests in

22the region. As the rulers of the imperial powers played out their barbaric

23‘great game’ in the South Caucasus, the Armenians and other people who

24happened to live on their chessboard suffered the real sacrifice as each piece

25was won or lost. Property was systematically looted, lives were ruined or

26abruptly ended, local economies were carelessly wrecked, residential neigh-

27bourhoods were smashed apart, self-reliant people were turned into pathetic

28asylum seekers.

29Meanwhile, the industrial revolution in Western Europe brought about an 30111 even more rapid acceleration of political and social change across the world

31as the nineteenth century developed. Democratic theories of government and

32the modern conception of nationhood were rapidly spread by new communi-

33cations technology. Such progressive ideas flourished even while the colonial

34 empires subjugated much of Asia and Africa and industrial capitalism

35reduced newly urbanized peasants to the deepest poverty. The contradictory

36trends reached into the lives of people all over the world. The chapter by

37Aram Arkun assesses the impact of these changes, focusing on the way in

38which the world around them between 1800 and 1913 affected the lives of the

39homeland Armenians and triggered the formation of a new identity.

41found during the nineteenth century that they had to respond to the even

42more energetic imperialists of Western Europe by modernizing themselves.

43This they did with varying degrees of success by reforming and adapting

44their military, political and economic structures to allow them to compete in 45111 the modern world. Throughout their empires, they began to build up

6 M. Kurkchiyan and E. Herzig

11111 centralized institutions and more effective administrative procedures. For the

2subject peoples this reform meant more direct intervention from central

6In his account of the condition of Armenian groups in the homeland in this

7period, Arkun shows that although there were substantial differences in

11and hardship even if the extent of it varied. Among Armenian historians the

12nineteenth century has been viewed as a dark period in Armenian political, 13111 social and economic history, at least for homeland Armenians.

15awakening, a zartonk. Arkun argues that even though the homeland popula-

16tion was profoundly divided by the militarized frontiers that separated the

17imperial powers, it nevertheless managed to retain and even to promote its

18own cultural unity. The foundation for this achievement was the shared

19written language. Wherever Armenians lived, they managed to teach it to 20111 their children by one means or another, and for everyone it was sustained

21and continually renewed in vernacular books and newspapers. By the second

22half of the century, newspapers in the national language became available in

23 virtually all Armenian communities. For the first time ever it became

24possible to exchange information, to disseminate new political ideas, and to

25hold a genuine national debate. The eventual result was the formation of a

26consensual understanding of national identity, complete with modern polit-

27 ical aspirations of territorial sovereignty and economic hopes for

28government-led prosperity. This reconstruction of the Armenian identity is

29interpreted by Arkun as a transformation in the character of the national 30111 myth. Armenian identity, formerly a cultural romanticism, became a real-

31istic nationalist project, calling for political action. His chapter ‘Into the

32Modern Age, 1800–1913’ describes the difficult, multifaceted and painful

33process whereby an Armenian nation in the modern sense was formed. As

34he points out, it is a remarkable story. Nearly two thousand years of frag-

35mentation and subjugation did not prevent the Armenian people from

36 entering the twentieth century with a surviving language, religion and

37culture, an organized political movement, a coherent national ideology and

38a drive to be united and independent.

41sequence of different acts of desperation. There were attempts to find allies,

42only to be deceived by all of them. There were uprisings followed immedi-

43ately by reprisals and subsequently by long periods of repression. And there

44were waves of massacres, the most serious of which took place in the eastern 45111 provinces of the Ottoman Empire between 1895 and 1909. As many as

Introduction 7

11111 200,000 people were killed in a terrifying series of assaults, and it is gener- 2 ally agreed by historians that between 60,000 and 100,000 people who 3 managed to dodge the knives and bullets took the radical decision to

4emigrate.

7diplomatic catchphrase, ‘the Armenian Question’, had been added to the

11longer be treated as uncomplaining pawns in the game. They were still

12losers, but they had become troublesome. That meant that a decision would 13111 have to be made about the future political status of the Armenian-populated

14territories. Finding themselves entangled perforce in the high politics of

15great-power rivalry in the closing years of the nineteenth century and the

16early years of the twentieth, the Armenians placed their trust and hope in

17the governments of Western Europe and Russia. These soon proved to be

18misplaced. In 1915 the world watched almost in silence the first genocide of

19the century, the mass murder of the Armenians of Ottoman Turkey. In the 20111 space of a few months, approximately one-and-a-half million Armenians

21were killed and the rest of the population was forcibly expelled, most of

22them southward towards Syria. It was one of the most horrific instances of

23ethnic cleansing in recent history. It instantly became the most significant

24factor in Armenian identity in the twentieth century, and in the longer term

25it caused general immiseration, mass displacement and emigration even

26from non-Ottoman parts of the Caucasus, and the loss of a huge part of the

27homeland under the terms of the eventual political settlement.

28The Genocide’s psychological and social effects on the generations of

29Armenians after the First World War were similar to those of the Nazi holo- 30111 caust on the generations of Jews that came after the Second World War. The

31 immediate impact on the surviving population consisted of traumatic

32emotional distress. Over time this became a sense of having been victimized,

33combined with a strong sensitivity to issues of morality and justice. Ethnic

34identity, which had been gradually declining in importance as mental hori-

35 zons expanded in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, was forced

36violently back into the centre of self-consciousness for all those who called

37themselves Armenians. That process created a social boundary around the

38group, sharply defined, and giving a heightened importance to the distinc-

39tion between ‘us’ and ‘them’. In relation to both these issues – identity and 40111 identification – strong forms of social pressure emerged spontaneously, and

41as time passed they became generally accepted and firmly noted. Children

42were told the hideous story of the Genocide, and repeatedly retold it. As the

43event became generally known in all parts of the diaspora, the Genocide

44became the main integrating force for the Armenian nation and continued in 45111 that role throughout the twentieth century.

Introduction 9

11111 Armenians gathered in Yerevan and did just that, in 1918. Initially,

2Armenia’s first government for more than a thousand years was able to

6state could deploy only ramshackle defences, both military and diplomatic.

7Faltering against Turkish army attacks and the cynical manoeuvrings of

8Western diplomacy, Armenian jurisdiction was gradually reduced to a small,

11Russia who had formed a tactical alliance with the ‘Young Turk’ government

12in Istanbul. Armenia’s self-governing regime gave way to the Bolsheviks, and 13111 the border was redrawn around a small land area that significantly excluded

14the ethnic enclave of mountainous Karabagh to the east.

15The account of all these events by Richard Hovannisian opens up all the

16complexities of the brief period of independent government and its impact

17on Armenian identity. He argues that the Armenians living in the diaspora

18saw it quite differently from the people who actually lived in Armenia, a

19difference that has persisted since. The diaspora was made up of people who 20111 migrated in the aftermath of the massacres of 1894–1909, together with

21survivors of the 1915 Genocide and a steady flow of economic migrants

22from Western Armenia. For all these people, the homeland meant the

23Armenia of the Ottoman Empire, around the biblical Mount Ararat and

24 Lake Van. Few Western Armenians saw the Russian part of Eastern

25Armenia as a homeland that they could identify with.

26But for Armenians who lived in Armenia, the declaration of the First

27Republic was the fulfilment of the dreams of centuries, however tiny the new

28state might be. The newly elected government quickly created a new judicial

29system, introduced a national currency and a progressive income tax, and 30111 despite all its financial, social and military problems it managed to launch

31 an educational infrastructure designed to resemble Western models of

32universal and secular education. An example was the foundation of the

33nation’s first university, based on the most advanced principles, including

34gender equality.

35Despite the short lifespan of the independent republic, its two years of

36 freedom exerted a disproportionate impact on Armenia’s identity.

37Henceforth the self-image was to be that of a modern progressive nation

38with a mature political consensus, which could and should establish its own

39institutions of government on the basis of democracy and civil society. 40111 These assumptions were given a second chance to come true in the late

411980s, when Armenia once again took the path to independence, this time

42from the Soviet Communist regime. In the spirited debates on constitution-

43building and public policy, the vivid memory of the stillborn achievements

44of the first Republic of Armenia became a source of inspiration and ambi- 45111 tion for masses of the homeland’s people.

10 M. Kurkchiyan and E. Herzig

2the pitiful condition of the surviving homeland, Armenians in 1920 faced a

3stark choice between Soviet control and emigration. By that time 30 per cent

6country was without an organized middle class and it lacked a mature set of

7economic, political and social institutions. Armenia therefore entered its

14moderate New Economic Policy but then gave way to Stalin’s brutality,

15displayed first in his collectivization programme and then in the terror

16known as the Great Purges. There followed the Second World War, in which

17Hitler’s savage army was halted, at profound cost, at Stalingrad just north of

18the Caucasus. With the war over, the Soviet economy began to boom and

19Stalinism eventually passed away. A post-Stalin thaw marked the USSR at 20111 its peak of success under Khrushchev, although his regime gave way to a

21generation of stagnant leadership from Brezhnev. Finally, Mikhail Gorba-

22chev’s unsuccessful attempt to modernize the Communist system in its final

23decade ended with the inward collapse of the federal authority in 1991.

24From beginning to end, the regime’s ideological extremism made it authori-

25tarian, militaristic, rigid, arbitrary and often cruel, even though it always

26attempted in its ponderous fashion to implement intellectual, scientific,

27socialist and other civilized values.

34proportion of the people were educated to world-class levels. At the same

35time, new libraries, museums, galleries and concert halls were provided free

36of charge, and literature, the arts and the sciences were actively promoted.

37Impressive strides were also made in such fields as health care and techno-

38logical innovation.

41chapter ‘Soviet Armenia, 1921–91’ Ronald Suny reflects on the particular

42Armenian experience of Soviet rule, surveying its outcome and assessing its

43impact on the national mentality of the people living in Soviet Armenia. He

44argues that although the Soviet regime was temperamentally anti-nationalist, 45111 its choice of policy actually gave rise to a strong feeling of territorial nation-

Introduction 11

11111 alism. The various nations were encouraged to cultivate a ‘self’ while simul-

2taneously keeping all political, ideological and social issues entirely separate

3from it. Precisely because they were forbidden as Soviet citizens to draw on

4anything current or politically sensitive when choosing what to do to cele-

51111 brate their ‘national day’ and similar events, the people of each nation

6searched in their past, real or imagined, for ways to keep their collective self-

7 image alive. They developed a taste for talk of ethnic origin, traditional

8religion, past golden ages, and their love of their geographical homeland.

11by the impact of schools that taught in the medium of the Armenian lang-

12uage, and for older students by the cultural activities of the many higher 13111 educational establishments. When the relaxed period of the 1960s arrived,

14many of the picturesque old Armenian churches were restored. In their new

15splendour they had to be regarded as heritage sites rather than as build-

16ings for worship, but even so they helped to contribute to a growing cultural

17self-awareness.

18These things were sufficiently subsidized by the USSR in order to provide

19for its assortment of national cultures and to keep each one pure and 20111 distinct. Nationalism of this culture-oriented, non-political kind is very

21different from the assertion of sovereignty-as-citizenship that characterizes

22nationalism in democracies. Concerned as it is with ‘blood and belonging’, it

23brushes aside all the differences of thought and diversities of taste within a

24group, in favour of raw feelings. As a result, when Armenia rebelled against

25the Soviet regime in 1988, culture and territory became the rallying-cry for

26the masses, whose nationalist passions were at their strongest in relation to

27the ethnic enclave of Mountainous Karabagh.

28For a whole generation, Soviet policy on the issue of the lost lands of

29Western Armenia was subordinated to broader foreign policy interests. Lenin 30111 supported the Young Turk government, which meant that the Armenian

31territorial claim had to be brushed aside. The 1921 Treaties of Kars and

32Moscow formalized the loss. The uncompromising strictness of the USSR’s

33early policy meant not only that mention of Western Armenia was erased

34from international diplomacy, but also that both the Armenian Question and

35even the Genocide became taboo within the USSR. Censorship ensured not

36just that school textbooks ignored these topics, but that all other publications

37did so as well. From the 1920s until the 1950s, anyone who dared to speak

38out in public was labelled an ‘enemy of the people’, then eliminated. An

39entire generation of Armenians grew up under these conditions between the

40111 two world wars, knowing little about what had happened in Western

41Armenia only two decades earlier. The Soviet propaganda machine had

42successfully engineered their historical and social understanding. Their igno-

43rance of their own people’s very recent history made Western Armenia seem

44remote, and the Genocide seem like a minor event. Both became peripheral 45111 to the national self-image of people in Armenia.

12 M. Kurkchiyan and E. Herzig

11111 However, the warmth of the relationship between Moscow and

2Istanbul did not last long and cooled to freezing point during the Second

3World War. In 1945 the Soviet government formally declared a claim to

8tackle the subject (provided they did not question the self-serving official

11grew up, sufficiently numerous and confident by 1965 to crowd the streets

12of Yerevan in the first-ever demonstration demanding that the USSR 13111 should make an issue of the Armenian Question in its foreign policy. That

14event signalled the beginning of a new phase in Armenian nationalism.

15From then on, the self-image of the people of the homeland compelled

16them to seek ways to take action on the linked issues of Genocide recogni-

17tion and land restoration.

21many of them have remained emotionally tied to the national idea to such

22an extent that each generation cannot avoid transmitting an equal fervour to

23its children. That might seem paradoxical when nearly all of these people

24live in different countries and owe loyalty to the governments of those coun-

25tries. They have diverse lifestyles and speak other languages primarily or

26exclusively. Some even conduct all their relationships within networks that

27do not contain other Armenians. Pattie argues that the emotional link

28between all these disparate individuals was created by the 1915 Genocide,

29and she describes the social fabric of the communities that they have estab- 30111 lished since that time. Although by 1915 some of the communities had

31already been established in countries like Syria, Iran and India for over

32seventeen hundred years, the ethnic cleansings of the late nineteenth century

33and especially during the Great War threw up a tidal wave of refugees. The

34wave flooded the established diaspora with new arrivals, who then changed

35the way that the older residents thought about themselves.

37either itself experienced a first-hand memory of a politically motivated

38death, loss or trauma, or knows others who have. That consciousness of the

391915 killings and related horrors, universally shared, has held together the 40111 group identity; it is now the essence of ‘Armenianness’. Given that shared

41consciousness, the logical implication has been to assert demands for inter-

42national recognition of the fact that the Genocide actually took place and

43for apologies to be made by those who can speak for the perpetrators.

44Sometimes there have also been additional demands for compensation for 45111 the families of the victims, and restitution of the stolen lands. Regardless of

Introduction 13

11111 whether or not a campaign for such goals can have a realistic prospect of

2success, it does have a powerful role in maintaining the group identity.

6unsuccessful attempts to find a secure environment elsewhere. The practical

7uncertainty of refugee life has provoked a generalized anxiety in the minds

8of the expatriates, causing them to feel as if they are constantly threatened,

14family ties, the Church, political parties, cultural organizations, and clubs

15and social networks.

16To keep a community going in a foreign environment, Armenians have

17 had to constantly redefine the group boundaries and adjust them to

18changing circumstances, such as the gradual assimilation of the younger

19generation into the host culture. The effect is that, in the diaspora, questions 20111 that can be taken for granted in Armenia itself, such as who belongs and

25Armenian, you were perforce Armenian. Then the stress moved to the

26culture, in the form of things that could be taught and learned. If people

27really belonged, they would speak the language, they would know their

32emphasis has moved on to entirely subjective factors, removing altogether

33any need for external evidence. To be an Armenian now, it is enough that

34one be conscious that one is. In the pithy phrase of Anny Bakalian, cited in

35the chapter, identity has shifted from a matter of being Armenian to feeling

36Armenian.

37This succession of changes has been less marked in the settlements of the

38Middle East, where Armenians have always been noticeably different from

39everyone else because religion remained a key marker of difference between 40111 communities. It is in the Western countries, with their long-standing tradi-

41tions of individualism and of actively integrating the foreign-born into a

42secular unity of politics and culture, that the progressive evolution in how

43the group is defined has been so noticeable.

44The meaning of the ‘homeland’ proved to be similarly controversial in the 45111 diaspora communities, especially during the forty-year Cold War after 1945.

14 M. Kurkchiyan and E. Herzig

11111 For most Armenians, the sight of a dependent republic that had virtually 2 disappeared into the mighty USSR signalled an end to their hope of

3returning one day to the independent state they dreamed about, united

6must support their land of origin and keep in close touch with it. But even

7for those who stayed loyal to their identity throughout the history of the

8USSR, the Soviet Union’s version of Armenia was perceived less as the

9nation’s true heartland than as a poor relation in need of handouts and

14truly independent homeland became available to all Armenians whether

15they were living in the territory or not. For the second time in the twentieth

16century, they had to reshape their mental world to take that into account.

17The last six chapters of this volume examine how that reshaping was done,

18with each contributor examining a different aspect of the experience of the

19new state’s first, critical, decade of self-reliance. Unexpectedly, the initial ten 20111 years of freedom turned out to be harsh, difficult and violent – a circum-

21stance that was vividly reflected in the startling growth of the diaspora. The

22global expatriate Armenian community expanded faster through emigration

23from the homeland in the 1990s than at any time since the First World War.

25began years before Gorbachev and Yeltsin orchestrated the death throes of

26the Soviet Union. The first one was provoked by intense nationalism. As the

27rigid grip of central government was progressively relaxed, an emotional

31of the fact that most of its population was ethnic Armenian. Feeling gave

32rise to action, and in February 1988 the Karabagh Movement held a mass

33demonstration that filled the streets of central Yerevan in spite of the winter

34cold. The assembly was the largest in the history of the USSR, the demon-

35strators all wanting to give support to the claims of the Armenian people of

36the mountainous Karabagh region of Azerbaijan to ‘self-determination’, by

37which they meant irredentism: separation from Azerbaijan followed by

38unification with Armenia.

41and thereby change its nature: it became a political campaign against the

42Soviet regime. The movement’s leaders took control of Armenia in 1990,

43declared independence from Moscow rule in 1991, and assumed command

44of the Armenian troops that became involved in violent conflict with Azeri 45111 forces in and around Karabagh itself between 1992 and 1994. The result was

Introduction 15

11111 that the new Armenian state was born into both political and popular

2confusion. The campaign for a free Karabagh had become intermingled

3with the campaign for a free Armenia to such a degree that it was difficult

4for ordinary people to distinguish one from the other. The Karabagh issue

51111 brought war; the Armenian issue brought the transition: a massive

6programme of state-building, economic transformation, social change, ideo-

7logical reversals and, along with all of that, intense societal pain. Ordinary

8people were left to deal with everything on the list at the same time.

11conflict escalated from a domestic dispute between citizens of the same state

12upwards to diplomatic confrontation between sovereign governments and 13111 then on to active warfare. In 1994 Karabagh was liberated by volunteer

21tiations that dragged on; they had not reached a settlement by early 2004.

22The ceasefire froze the conflict in favour of the Armenians, who were left in

23control of the Karabagh district and a substantial part of Azerbaijan. The

24cost to Armenia was relatively light in immediate military terms, but crip-

25pling in terms of the wider economic perspective. The government in Baku

26secured the collaboration of Turkey in imposing a total blockade on their

27respective Armenian borders. The closure of roads, railways, gas pipelines

28and electricity supplies across the two major borders not only made the

29country unduly dependent on the few remaining transport links that ran 30111 through Georgia, but also directly intensified the already severe economic

31hardships being caused by the transition. Meanwhile, Karabagh declared its

32independence, a symbolic gesture which did not lead to recognition by any

33state, even Armenia itself. The leadership in Stepanakert nevertheless set

34about constructing the official institutions of a national capital and by 1995

35its presidency and parliament presided over an elaborate, if flimsy, national

36administration.

37The military struggle over Karabagh made a powerful impression on the

38Armenian self-image. The earliest calls for self-determination in 1988 had

39provoked a hostile public reaction in Azerbaijan, rapidly expressed in a 40111 pogrom against the community of ethnic Armenians living in the Caspian

41industrial town of Sumgait. Several lesser incidents followed in Baku and

42elsewhere, and many families fled to Armenia. The news was flashed to

43Armenia and, as reports spread across the country, the perceived danger of

44a second genocide moved towards the ideological centre of the national 45111 movement. It was Turks, not Azeris, who had long been bogeymen in the

Introduction 17

11111 prosperous life, and they assumed that, with the diversions and waste of the

2Cold War out of the way, these things could be provided. In the early years

3this unqualified optimism empowered the leadership to undertake radical

6dual implication. Freedom to act boldly was certainly one, but the other was

11Henceforth, all the power so eagerly granted to the local politicians would

12necessarily be held to account.

13111 From the early 1990s onwards, the people began to pass judgement on 14 their nation’s independent record. Disillusionment immediately set in.

15People began to understand that many of their supposed romantic heroes

16were exhibiting crudely self-interested conduct; that corruption and

17hypocrisy were common in high places; and that, worst of all, actual perfor-

18mance was dismal – in every field of domestic policy. Emotionally, such

19negative features of real life could not be reconciled with the romantic image 20111 that had served as the psychological foundation of the national movement.

21The result was the widespread depression, pessimism, cynicism and apathy

22that dominated the social and political climate of homeland Armenia from

23the mid-1990s onwards. Enthusiastic commitment degenerated into cynical

24alienation.

25In his analysis of Armenian politics in its first decade, Edmund Herzig

26looks closely at the way in which morale in the country declined from its

27high point around 1990. He examines the few successes and many failures of

28the political leadership, and explores the circumstances that turned well-

29regarded public figures into political bankrupts. His chapter outlines the 30111 major political events in Armenia between 1991 and 2004: the controversial

31parliamentary and presidential elections, the constitutional referendum, and

32the presidential resignation of 1997. He describes the political turbulence in

331999–2000 provoked by the assassination of prominent politicians when

34gunmen stormed the parliament in October 1999. Tracing the course of

35political development in post-Soviet Armenia, he comes to the conclusion

36that although there had been some progress towards democracy by the turn

37of the century, overall the record was a disappointment to Armenia’s citi-

38zens. Civil society remained undeveloped, there was no mature political

39structure to represent the interests of party supporters, and members of the

40111 public were not protected from arbitrary actions by the government.

41Ordinary people felt just as much distrust of the politicians as they had in

42the Soviet period.

43Progress in building democratic institutions in contemporary Armenia is

44further scrutinized in Mark Grigorian’s chapter on the media and democ- 45111 racy. He assesses how deeply tolerance and democratic values have become

18 M. Kurkchiyan and E. Herzig

11111 embedded in Armenian national ideology and political life by focusing on

2the history, development and current state of the country’s news and enter-

3tainment media. He suggests that the ‘golden age’ of freedom of expression

6activity of the unregistered press that had been triggered by the Karabagh

7movement from 1988 onwards. Many uncensored publications appeared,

8driven by the urge to ‘tell the truth’ in contrast to the carefully managed

9news that was put out in the official Soviet press. Known as samizdat, this

10111 unofficial press could certainly be called independent, and it gave an

11authentic voice to nationalist feelings. Being a genuine voice of the people, it

12could also be called democratic. However, it was far from being democratic 13111 in its lack of respect for the voices of minority opinion or for such values as

16and soon afterwards the Communists were defeated. The Armenian media

17was then free to turn itself into a viable, professional and independent

18voice. But that could not be done overnight, and each problem that the

19society as a whole went through caused difficulties for radio, TV and the 20111 newspapers. The blockade caused newsprint shortages and the 1992–4

21energy crisis caused an electricity shortage, damaging both printing and

22broadcasting. After 1995 political pressures got worse, particularly in the

23run-up to each election. Nevertheless, the general standard of journalism

24did improve year by year, even though progress was slow. Things were a

25little better by the start of the new century than they had been in 1988, but

26there was still a long way to go towards full professionalism, editorial

27freedom and financial independence.

31and biased. The availability of such a wide range of interpretation and

32opinion forced people to choose, and in doing so they unconsciously culti-

33vated a new and more sophisticated understanding of public affairs and even

34developed some tolerance of diversity. To reach a fully mature understanding

35of democracy would take a much longer time, but a start was made. Despite

36 their poverty and the weakness of their democratic institutions, the

37Armenian people began to realize that the national interest was itself a

38pluralist concept, capable of being interpreted differently by separate social

39groups without posing any threat to the fundamental unity of the nation. 40111 Even more important than the press to Armenian politics and national

41identity in the post-independence period was the state of the economy. In

42this book its recent vicissitudes are described by Astghik Mirzakhanyan.

43After reviewing both the modernizing achievements and the bureaucratic

44inefficiencies of the Soviet period, she points out that by the late 1980s 45111 Armenia was considered to be one of the most developed republics in the

3was skilled and well educated. Not surprisingly, Armenians were feeling

4confident when they stepped on to the path towards a free market. They

51111 could justifiably assume that theirs was an advanced nation, capable of

6raising its standard of living to match that of the developed world within a

7short time.

11argues that an unfortunate coincidence of factors was responsible for the

12disaster. In addition to the problems common to all post-Soviet countries, 13111 such as the shock of privatization and the severance of links to the tightly

14integrated Soviet system, Armenia suffered first from a massive earthquake

15in 1988 and then from an economic blockade imposed by neighbouring

16Azerbaijan and Turkey. The consequences were so destructive that it became

17impossible to recover, at least within the first decade. Mirzakhanyan uses

18statistics and survey data to draw a picture of the hardship and poverty that

19settled across the country in the 1990s. She shows that despite some measure 20111 of success in restructuring the economy and in establishing macroeconomic

21stability during the first half of that period, by 2004 the new government

22had failed to make any tangible improvement in the living standards of ordi-

23nary people.

24Faced with the extreme privation of the 1990s, how did people cope?

25What did they find they had to do in order to feed, clothe and shelter them-

26selves and their families, and how did they manage when they became ill or

27incapacitated? Did the ways in which people were forced to respond to the

28prolonged crisis alter the social structure of the country? To what extent did

29such critical circumstances alter the national self-image? In her chapter on 30111 the nature of Armenian society in transition, Marina Kurkchiyan attempts

31to answer these questions. She argues that history came to the aid of the

32people by suggesting ways that could help them to bear the burden. Over the

33centuries Armenians had built up a tradition of mutual support known as

34networking. This was not founded upon altruism or charity or even good-

35 will. Rather, it was built upon a businesslike reciprocity developed so

36extensively that it enabled society to continue to function even under condi-

37tions that in a different culture might well have reduced normal life to chaos,

38despair and collapse.

39Reciprocity, or networking, originated in the prolonged subjection of the 40111 homeland to foreign rule. Through successive centuries of governance by

41aliens who frequently exploited them, Armenians had learned the need to

42distrust authority in all its forms. They never had enough power to confront

43officialdom with any hope of success, so they cultivated instead ways of

44ignoring it, avoiding it, deceiving it, or working round it wherever they 45111 could. Rather than cooperate actively with officials like police officers,

20 M. Kurkchiyan and E. Herzig

11111 department managers, property inspectors and military commanders, they

2made sure that their energies were more constructively directed. They culti-

3vated members of their extended family, their friends, their close colleagues

6to do so. At different periods informal networking enabled the people to

7minimize the impact of Ottoman agricultural tithes, Tsarist business levies,

8Persian religious decrees and all the other miseries imposed by whichever

11cooperation, while an alternative social structure and informal economy

12functioned invisibly below the deceptively passive surface of Armenian

15government’s grand plans, construction projects, resource allocations and

16output targets all proceeded along at the official level, but sluggishly, while

17informal networking enabled food to be supplied to needy families, leaking

18taps to be repaired, and essential surgical procedures to be carried out.

19When the official system collapsed entirely in 1990, in effect the unofficial 20111 system took its place as the principal means of running what little there was

21of a new economy. The desperation felt by most people during the end-of-

22century years of war, blockade and transition served only to strengthen their

23old habits of informal networking. The higher the personal stakes, the more

24important trustworthiness and reliability became.

26sphere in the 1990s had both positive and negative effects. On the positive

27side, the thick social texture woven by the continual flow of personalized

31centuries before when marauding armies were laying waste to the country.

32But on the negative side the vigour of the networking practices in the 1990s

36In the space of just a few years after 1990, the economic collapse and the

37transition from planned economy to free market combined to destroy the

38egalitarianism of the former society and replace it with a polarized struc-

39ture. The malign conjunction of rising unemployment and collapsing 40111 welfare services ruined most of the people who lived in the country, whereas

41a handful of the lucky, the well-connected and the unscrupulous were at the

42same time growing sufficiently rich to enjoy a Western standard of living

43complete with luxury cars, private houses and expensive consumer goods.

44Conscious that the privileges of the new elite had nothing to do with hard 45111 work or personal integrity, but much to do with cheating, corruption and

Introduction 21

11111 theft, the majority began to think of the so-called ‘new Armenians’ as

2‘them’, not ‘us’.

6sustained once people had taken the mental step of classifying some of their

7fellow citizens as not being proper and worthy Armenians. Clearly a new test

8was being applied to decide who are the ‘we’ among ‘we Armenians’. It was a

11homeland Armenians were once again forced by circumstances to re-examine

12their national self-image, and doing so on this occasion shook their self-belief 13111 to its foundations.

14Against all expectations at the time of the USSR’s collapse, it was not a

15case of Armenians from the diaspora pouring into the liberated homeland in

16the hundreds of thousands; the flow was the other way round. In the ten years

17after 1990 a million people – a third of the population of independent Armenia

18– headed abroad in search of a job and a new home. Kurkchiyan argues that

19the emigrants forming this new outward wave were driven away not only by 20111 economic hardship, but also by disappointment, frustration and a sense of

21alienation. In principle, their sudden disillusionment could be reversed, but

22that could only happen in response to positive trends in Armenian politics and

23the active cultivation of an atmosphere of trust between the people and their

24rulers. And as Herzig points out in chapter 9, the tendencies in the first decade

25were rather for Armenian politics to move the other way, towards authoritar-

26ianism, and for trust in the leadership to decline.

27How did the members of the diaspora feel about the newly independent

28Armenia? And how did the relationship between the two evolve and develop

29in the eventful years after the homeland was opened up to direct access by 30111 the diaspora? In the final chapter of this book Razmik Panossian reflects on

31the complexity of the homeland–diaspora interaction and probes into the

32core meaning of ‘Armenianness’ as revealed by the twin perspectives of the

33two branches of the split nation. In analysing the politics of the relationship

34between the Armenian leadership and the diaspora leaders during the first

35decade of independence, he demonstrates that the differences between the

36collective identities of the two entities proved to be much greater than had

37been expected. As he puts it, initial contact between them after 1990 was ‘a

38reluctant embrace, much like distant relations who had become strangers’.

39Each side, homeland and expatriate, had cherished an idealized image of 40111 the other throughout the long years of Cold War isolation without any

41necessity to put the expectation to the test. The lifting of the Soviet Union’s

42solid barriers to free communication also lifted away the illusion. Disillusion

43meant that sometimes the pendulum swung to the other extreme – to an

44unsympathetic focus on the other’s faults and failures. As soon as untram- 45111 melled contact between homeland and diaspora was permitted, it exposed