august 31, 2013 · august 31, 2013| the armenian weekly| 5 action was the hatred he felt towards...

AUGUST 31, 2013

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| T H E A R M E N I A N W E E K LY | August 31, 20132

Robert Avetisyan has been the Permanent Representative of theNagorno Karabagh Republic to the United States since 2009.He graduated from the Artsakh State University in Stepanakertin 1999. Since then, Avetisyan has been working in the Ministryof Foreign Affairs of the Nagorno Karabagh Republic, servingin different positions of the Ministry’s analytical and politicaldepartments. Avetisyan is married with two children.

Nanore Barsoumian is the Assistant Editor of the Armenian Weekly.She earned her B.A. degree in political science and English fromthe University of Massachusetts, Boston. Barsoumian’s writingsfocus on human rights, politics, poverty, environmental and gen-der issues. She speaks Armenian, Arabic, and French. EmailBarsoumian at [email protected], or follow her on Twitter(@NanoreB).

Artak Beglaryan has served as Assistant to the Prime Ministerof the Nagorno Karabagh Republic (NKR) since August 2012.He is currently studying public policy and administration at theFletcher School of Law and Diplomacy through the TavitianScholarship six-month program. In 2012, Beglaryan graduatedfrom the School of Slavonic and East European Studies atUniversity College London. He also completed a non-completemaster course in conflict studies at Yerevan State University.From 2006-10, he studied political science at Yerevan StateUniversity. Beglaryan has worked as a political analyst andcolumnist for several Armenian newspapers and journals.

Arevik Danielian is a 21-year-old photographer born and raisedin Stepanakert, the capital of Nagorno-Karabagh. She contributesmonthly articles and photographs to the Armenian Weekly.

A former journalist, Erin Henk focused on the conflict-induceddisplacement of Baku Armenians as part of the completion ofher master’s degree in human rights and humanitarian assis-tance at NYU in 2012. She has worked for the Fund for ArmenianRelief (FAR) and is now based in Kabul, Afghanistan, workingfor the International Rescue Committee.

Michael Mensoian, J.D./Ph.D, is professor emeritus in MiddleEast and political geography at the University of Massachusetts,Boston, and a retired major in the U.S. army. He writes regularlyfor the Armenian Weekly.

Eric Nazarian is a screenwriter, filmmaker and photojournalistbased in Los Angeles, Calif. In 2007, Nazarian wrote anddirected “The Blue Hour,” a first feature film that won sixinternational awards. In 2008, Nazarian received the Academyof Motion Picture Arts and Sciences® (home of the Oscars)prestigious Nicholl Fellowship in Screenwriting for his originalscreenplay, “Giants.” In turn, Nazarian’s film “Bolis” was therecipient of the Best Short Film Award at the 14th ArpaInternational Film Festival in 2011. He is currently adaptingChris Bohjalian’s critically acclaimed novel, The SandcastleGirls, for the big screen.

2Contributors

3Nagorno-Karabagh:Preventive and RemedialRecognition vs. AzerbaijaniThreats—By ArtakBeglaryan

4Celebrating 25 Years ofFree and DemocraticArtsakh—By RobertAvetisyan

6Illuminating Artak: 10 Years Later—By Eric Nazarian

8‘Something Broke InsideMe’ : Armenians who FledAzarbaijan Speak—By Erin Henk

12The Village of Togh: A PhotographicJourney—By ArevikDanielian

14Images from Post-WarLife in Karabagh—Eric Nazarian

15In the Name of Her Son—By NanoreBarsoumian

18Artsakh’s Prospects forIts Future—By MichaelG. Mensoian

CONTENTS

CONTRIBUTORS

The Armenian WeeklyAUGUST 31, 2013

The Armenian WeeklyEditor: Khatchig MouradianAssistant editor: Nanore Barsoumian

Copy-editor: Nayiri ArzoumanianArt director: Gina Poirier

August 31, 2013 | T H E A R M E N I A N W E E K LY | 3

Iwant to welcome the initiative of The Armenian Weekly to

dedicate this magazine issue to Artsakh, a stronghold ofArmenian civilization and an inseparable part of our commonHomeland. It is important to continue keeping Artsakh inour hearts and minds, to follow developments in and aroundthe Nagorno Karabagh Republic (NKR), and to show to the

entire world that the entire Armenian Nation remains involvedin Artsakh’s life and invested in its freedom and prosperity.

This year, Artsakh, Armenia, and our compatriots in theArmenian Diaspora celebrated the 25th anniversary of the Artsakhliberation movement. In early 1988, following decades of dis-crimination and injustice in an oppressive Soviet system,Nagorno-Karabagh’s legislature requested restoration of the his-torical injustice by reunifying with Armenia. The reaction wasas disproportionate as it was inhuman: A wave of anti-Armenianatrocities spread throughout then-Soviet Azerbaijan, which begana full-scale military campaign against the people of Karabagh.Our nation, however, through enormous sacrifice, has defendedits freedom and laid the grounds for independent statehood.

Today, 25 years after that historic event, Artsakh is a free anddemocratic nation, with a vibrant civil society, a developing econ-omy, an effective administration, and capable armed forces. Theyears that followed the declaration of independence are proofnot only of the viability of Artsakh’s statehood, but of its abilityto solve complex issues. We have, after all, succeeded in rehabil-itating the economy from nearly nothing, in rebuilding our infra-structure from ruin, and establishing democratic institutionswhile consistently reinstating them, all in the face of extremelyscarce resources, a blockade, and massive post-war destruction.

Free, fair, and competitive elections have become an insep-arable part of NKR’s political culture. Since 1991, our republichas gone through five presidential elections, five parliamentaryelections, and many local elections, all of which were assessedas free and transparent by international observers. Our politicaltransitions have always been carried out in a legal and orderlymanner.

All of this does not mean that we have achieved our goals;numerous problems still exist, and require consistent and tirelessattention. Our young democracy still faces significant domesticand external challenges and threats. The political hotheads fromour neighbor to the east, and their supporters, continue to ignorethe reality on the ground, thus perpetuating the threat to ourlong-term regional stability. Nonetheless, over 25 years, Artsakhtsishave demonstrated the sustainability of their aspirations for sov-ereignty, and have proven that we are resolute in defending—and multiplying—our achievements in any realm. Four U.S. statesand various parliaments have recognized this fact, and supportArtsakh’s independence.

We will continue to build a better and safer country that willprotect the freedom and dignity of our heroic people. On ourway to building a better and safer homeland, we have alwaysfelt the encouragement and support of our compatriots fromthroughout the world. We remain convinced that joint effortsby Artsakh, Armenia, and the Armenian Diaspora will lead usto further victories and achievements, at home and abroad.Unity is the strength that saved our people from extermination.Unity remains the necessary component for our continueddevelopment as states and as a nation. a

BY ROBERT AVETISYAN, PERMANENT REPRESENTATIVE OF NKR TO THE U.S.


The Nagorno-Karabagh con-

flict, one of the longest-lasting conflicts in theregion, seems to havepassed into an essentialphase of its settlement. OnMay 30, the Legislature ofLouisiana recognized theindependence of the

Nagorno Karabagh Republic (NKR; alsoknown as the Republic of Artsakh). Thisaction at the U.S. state level has prece-dents, such as similar resolutions passedby Maine, Massachusetts, and RhodeIsland in the recent months. The recogni-tion of NKR’s independence at the statelevel has gone beyond America’s shores,as the largest Australian state of New SouthWales also passed a resolution in 2012.

Although such resolutions by non-subjects of international law do not changethe legal status of that de facto state inthe international community, its politicalsignificance cannot be underestimated.Firstly, it warns Azerbaijan that time workstowards the final recognition of Karabagh.This fact may put pressure on theAzerbaijani side during negotiations torecede from its maximalist position. In fact,it is a response to Baku’s military rhetoricand heavy armament, upon which itclearly relies on the long term. The recog-nition campaign also raises awareness

about the Nagorno-Karabagh issue and thedemocratic merits of that non-recognizedrepublic; that positive awareness will surelyincrease the chances of further recognitionacts by states and sub-state units.

That recognition campaign, perceivedby Azerbaijan as a risk, causes aggressivecounter-reaction. In addition to its tradi-tional military rhetoric, Azerbaijan regu-larly provokes tensions with graveincidents on the frontline and explicitlyviolates the rules of conventional armscontrol. Moreover, Baku recently took two

steps that escalated the tension aroundthe Karabagh issue and deepened the gapof trust between the Armenian andAzerbaijani societies. The first shock wasthe extradition to Azerbaijan and the par-don of army officer Ramil Safarov. He hadbeen serving a life sentence in Hungaryfor axing to death Armenian army officerGurgen Margaryan in his sleep. It hap-pened in 2004, when both of them wereparticipating in the NATO “Partnership forPeace” program. As the murderer himselfproudly said, the reason for his brutal

Nagorno-KarabaghPreventive and Remedial

Recognition vs. Azerbaijani

THREATSBY ARTAK BEGLARYAN


action was the hatred he felt towards allArmenians, a statement widely propagan-dized by the Azerbaijani authorities.Safarov’s extradition to Azerbaijan inAugust 2012, organized together with thegovernment of Hungary, and heroizationin his homeland shocked the internationalcommunity, causing worldwide outrage.At the diplomatic level, Armenia’s responseto Hungary’s infamous deal with Azer -baijan was its suspension of relations withBudapest.

This scandalous step by the Aliyev clanwas likely carried out for the following rea-sons: First, he aimed to nourish thenationalist sentiments of the Azerbaijanisociety, which are directed mainly againstArmenians, and increase the bellicosemood in the society in preparation for fur-ther military actions against Karabagh. Or,using the Nagorno-Karabagh card and, inthis case, pardoning the axe-murderer,Aliyev aimed to raise his legitimacy amongthe considerable nationalist masses of thesociety. Undoubtedly, that legitimacy isneeded prior to the presidential electionsof 2013, when this authoritarian leader iselected to an undemocratic third term, inparticular since his legitimacy was shakenas a result of continuous violations ofhuman rights and freedoms in Azerbaijan.Thirdly, it was a clear message to Armeniaand the international community thatAzerbaijan’s position in the negotiationswould not become softer; rather, itsBATNA (i.e., renewal of the war) would bemore probable. It is arguable whether themessage has worked or not. What is clear,however, is that it spurred a negative reac-tion by the main great powers involved inSouth Caucasus affairs.

At the beginning, there was a risk thatthe Safarov case would freeze talksbetween Armenia and Azerbaijan; how-ever, that risk has mostly been overcomedue to the efforts of the mediators. In par-allel to the calming down of the firststorm, though, other clouds gathered inthe Armenian-Azerbaijani sky. In recentmonths, especially, the tension over theStepanakert airport has intensified. Theauthorities of the Nagorno-KarabaghRepublic are planning to run the airportfor humanitarian flights, but Baku has

threatened to shoot down any civilianplanes flying to and from Karabagh.

This is another demonstration of theanti-Armenian hysteria of the Aliyev clan.Who would ever think of attacking civil-ian aircrafts? Beyond simply creating/maintaining humanitarian obstacles forthe Nagorno-Karabagh people, Baku isconcerned about the legal consequencesof allowing flights over the territory of thatnon-recognized state. Those fears madethe OSCE Minsk Group (the main mediatorbody of the ongoing talks, with French,Russian, and American co-chairmanship)assert with a statement that the flightscannot affect the legal status of Nagorno-Karabagh. Despite this statement, theAzerbaijani authorities still continue tothreaten downing civilian aircraft. Thishas become the top issue for the media-tors in recent meetings, and it seems thatAzerbaijan seeks to utilize the airportproblem in the bargaining process.

After some delay, the NKR authoritiessaid that the airport would be launchedsoon. This decision likely took into accountArmenia’s statement that its anti-missilesystems would secure the Karabagh flights.

Some experts argue that Russia isseeking to deploy peacekeepers aroundthe Stepanakert airport as a guarantee ofits security, thus increasing Moscow’sweight in the region, since the Karabaghconflict is believed to be the most signif-icant stability/instability factor in theSouth Caucasus. Indisputably, any Russiansoldier on that ground would cause trou-ble among the other influential actors ofand in the region, including the EU andthe U.S. In order to avoid any possiblechange in the current balance among the

external players around the conflict, aswell as to avoid a new devastating war inthe region, all interested actors must pre-vent Azerbaijan from attacking the civilianplanes, and instead provide the Armenianside with clear guarantees.

The airport will be launched sooner orlater, since it has enormous humanitariansignificance for the Karabagh people andno international law forbids its operation.However, the question of whetherAzerbaijan will attack the civilian aircraftsis still uncertain. Since any attack to theplanes, logically, will trigger the resumptionof war, and the great players are stronglyinterested in sustaining the peace in theregion, they must keep Azerbaijan awayfrom any adventurous and terrorist behav-ior. How should they ensure the desirablepeace in and around the conflict zone? Theanswer is explicit—that is, to act insteadof talking. As the notion of securitydilemma assumes, the arms race in theSouth Caucasus increases the chance of anew war. The abovementioned two shocks,along with the frequent incidents on thefrontline, are considerable symptoms ofthe exhaustion of the security dilemma.To avoid such a scenario with large-scalehumanitarian and geopolitical crises, aswell as to resolve the Karabagh conflictonce and for all, the best option will be forthe international community to provideNKR with preventive recognition.

Undoubtedly, preventive recognitionwill become the powerful chain that keepsAzerbaijan away from attacking an inter-nationally recognized state, forcing it toabide with reality, like Serbia does in thecase of Kosovo. The concept of remedialrecognition could also be applicable here.It may work not only as a remedy for the1990’s war and the ongoing deprivationsand threats, but also as a response to thelikely effects of possible warfare in thefuture. Hence, the resolutions recognizingthe Nagorno-Karabagh Republic’s inde-pendence by sub-state units have alreadypaved the way to preventive and/or reme-dial recognition by the majority of the sub-jects of international law. One would hopethat the international community will notmiss the opportunity of establishingenduring peace in the region. a

Baku recently took two steps that escalatedthe tension around the

Karabagh issue anddeepened the gap

of trust between theArmenian and

Azerbaijani societies.

ver since I saw Steven Spielberg’s masterpiece,“Empire of the Sun,” as a child, the subject of warand its effects on children and civilians has beena theme of constant research and preoccupation.It’s not so much war’s mythos that makes for goodcinema, but the “war after war’s end” that has bothdisturbed and inspired me to write. This is whattriggered my first journey to Nagorno-Karabaghin the late 1990’s, as a student at USC Film

School. The war had finished a handful of yearsbefore, and the raw effects were still present inthe faces on that bewitching and ancient patchof earth. After graduating I returned again, try-ing to understand the chaos, the displacementand civilian casualties of a war that wasfought tooth and nail until the 1994ceasefire, and that resulted inthe displacement of over amillion people and an esti-mated 30,000 casualtieson both sides.

I recently dug intomy dog-eared pocketnotebooks from 2003and found a line I hadwritten after meetingmy dear friend ArtakBeglaryan in Stepan -a kert 10 years ago:“If there is anythingin the world worthdespising, it’s war.” Icontinue to despisewar for the human

waste and ravage it leaves behind. Those who survive war, andthose of us blessed never to see what war produces, have aresponsibility to bear witness, illuminate empathy, and foster ameaningful human dialogue.

Driving into the capital of Stepanakert, I had this graphic-novel image of the ancient Phoenix curling into flames, thenrebuilding itself from the ash. This city has risen again but thereis still work to be done. A lot of the pockmarked buildings have

been renovated. Busloads of pilgrims from the diasporavisit the ancient monasteries and villages. The new

generation still grapples with the after-effects ofthe war, and many questions have yet to be

answered. The dark weight of the post-waraura that I first remember feeling has dis-

sipated for the most part, but theghosts of war will always be present,cautiously reminding natives andvisitors of the resilience and ravagethat complete each other.

My dear friend Artak Beglaryanwas blinded at the age of 6

after picking up an unex-ploded ordnance in thecourtyard of his apartmentbuilding in Stepanakert.

I don’t know if “Illumi -nating Artak” is the righttitle for this piece; I hopeit affords a glimpse intohis courage, humility, andpanoramic vision.

10 years afterBY ERIC NAZARIAN

E


Artak (R) and the author inBoston in May 2013

The shrapnel robbed Artak of his eyesight, yet ultimatelyproduced a young dreamer who is an inspiration in my life. Hisgift is willpower, survival, and a hunger for knowledge, for higherlearning and self-betterment. War’s irreversible damage onlystrengthened his resolve to learn, travel, and spur criticallyengaging dialogue that crosses borders and gives a human voiceto the struggle of the Karabagh-Armenians.

I could write a book about Artak’s journey as a child warsurvivor, and then as a young international scholar. Artak was14 when I met him in 2003. I was out of film school strugglingto piece together a film about the war and the civilian sur-vivors on both sides of the line. Through the grapevine of thissmall city, all roads pointed in the direction of Artak’s home.We met there for the first time. He recited poetry, sang thevillage ballads and folkloric odes of his grandfathers, andmanaged to beat me and my dear friend Spiros multiple timesin chess. I vividly remember our first encounter, and hisincredibly witty and effortless sense of humor. I still don’tknow how he does it, but five minutes into a conversation thebelly laughs keep rolling.

Over the past 10 years, Artak has studied at Yerevan StateUniversity, at University College London, and at the FletcherSchool of Law and Diplomacy in Boston. He has learned Englishand is a speed-reader on the internet, with the aid of screen-reader software that allows him to speak-type and commit ideasto cyberspace and to paper very rapidly.

It was a short journey to Stepanakert, but a special one. Artakwas turning 25 and I was happy to be there on the day he cele-brated with his family. Surrounded by his brother Garen’s family,we savored a few shots of homemade pear vodka while takingin the summer heat that dipped into a nice afternoon rain inShushi. Melancholy swept over the rainy city as we drove backto Stepanakert, passing the Brotherhood Cemetery, where scoresof civilians and soldiers lie side-by-side. It is a beautifully

groomed but sad monument to the many lives lost in the stormof war. The weight of that loss will forever hang in the air abovethese roads and in every home. And with this weight, life willgo on and tomorrow will be a new day.

The next day, over a hearty breakfast of fresh bread, thymetea, and honey from Garen’s bees, Artak mused about the currentstate of affairs in Armenia and Karabagh, and of the Syrianrefugees in Armenia and the diaspora. “I think, nowadays themost important thing for us is the demographic developmentof Karabagh,” he said. “In this case, the Syrian Armenians cur-rently are the core target because they combine the main goalsof Armenians. The first is repatriation. Tragically, because of thewar in Syria we have been given this chance to repatriate. Thesecond dream is to develop and populate Artsakh, which wouldensure a bright and secure, enduring future. The third goal,which is an occasion-based mid-term one, is to create a senseof security for Syrian Armenians. The diaspora and Armeniashould be concerned first of all about the situation of SyrianArmenians, and that’s why this process of repopulation is veryimportant from that perspective. So, in supporting that process,one contributes simultaneously to the abovementioned threegoals of Armenians.”

In preparation for his journey to the Czech Republic, wherehe will continue his studies, Artak remembers Herbert Spencer’swisdom that “the great aim of education is not knowledge butaction.” Armed with Spencer’s wisdom, Artak will continue hisstruggle for a better tomorrow—for all of Artsakh and Armenia—from his desk across the hall from the prime minister’s office.His laptop and iPhone are his modern-day tools, but gadgetsand software are impermanent, soon to be replaced by tomor-row’s technology. The real sweat-of-the-brow work is done everyday inside his encyclopedic mind, which has produced an innerfield of vision that transcends blindness.

The world indeed is your oyster, my dear brother. a



he woman sitting across from me stopped speaking. Tilting her chin downward sheclosed her eyes and shook her head slightly.

No. Oh, I said, startled as I looked up from my notebook. I saw there were tears running

down her face. Oh, it’s OK. You don’t have to go on. I turned to my interpreter. Pleasetell her she doesn’t have to continue if she doesn’t feel comfortable. I wanted to reachacross the table and place my hand on her arm, to offer a reassuring touch. A sign ofconsolation. A pause. She nodded through the tears. A stiff smile crossed her face fora second, revealing a trace of relief. Her hands in her lap, she remained motionless.

BY ERIN HENK

T


I’m so sorry, I said. Please tell her I didn’tmean to make her uncomfortable.

The woman had stopped herself mid-sentence, choking up while recounting thestory of her neighbor in Baku. They hadlived in the same apartment building foryears. It was where, in the courtyard, theresident families would hold cookoutsduring warm summer evenings, wheretheir children would play together, andwhere they would share meals during theholidays. It was the same building whereshe and her husband spent years remod-eling the floors, the bathroom, and thekitchen to make it truly comfortable. Andit was where one night a group of angryAzerbaijanis broke down her neighbor’sdoor, grabbed her by the arms, and threwher from the window, four stories to herdeath on the concrete below. Then, insome twisted final act, the Azerbaijanimen combined their might to hurl herlarge wooden bureau out of the windowso that it landed on top of her.

I took a breath. Where to go from here?I thought.

This woman was one of the many dis-placed Armenians from Baku who I inter-viewed for my master’s thesis. The questto complete the thesis was bumpy, to saythe least; I switched topics at least threetimes over the course of several monthsbefore settling on one that continues tofascinate me—the human face of vio-lence and war. I did so by focusing onthe Nagorno-Karabagh conflict, specifi-cally the pogroms of Baku, and theArmenians who fled Azerbaijan becauseof them. Setting out on an equally tryingroad of finding people to interview, Ispent weeks searching, traveling up anddown the East Coast to interview thosewho were forced from a place that theirfamilies had called home for generations.Through my interviews I tried to figureout how conflict-induced displacementhad impacted the cultural identity ofsome of Baku’s Armenians, now mem-bers of the Armenian Diaspora. I set outto explore the way people relate to otherswithin their own ethnic group and theirsense of belonging to that group. Andwhile I focused on how this group of peo-ple expressed their identities through

symbolic ethnicity—like language andthe Armenian Church, for example—what moved me the most was much ofthe material I didn’t include in the finalproduct: the stories of abrupt and hor-rific violence, the heart-wrenching andshocking tales of neighbors turningagainst neighbors, incredible loss, strug-gle, survival, and subsequent rebirth.

After some silence the woman suddenlysurprised me by continuing. After that, Ihid, all night long in a closet and then againfor the entire next day. As soon as I could, Ileft on the ferry to Turkmenistan.

The long-simmering dispute betweenArmenia and Azerbaijan over Nagorno-Karabagh finally erupted into violentclashes in 1988 when pogroms werewaged against Armenians by Azerbaijanis,first in the small industrial city of Sumgait,located about 20 miles outside of Baku.While tensions had culminated in severalepisodes of violence around Armenia andAzerbaijan up until that point, they werenothing compared to the gruesome vio-lence of Sumgait. When about 50 peopleassembled in Sumgait’s Lenin Square fora rally protesting Karabagh’s unificationwith Armenia and demanded thatArmenians leave Azerbaijan, violence

exploded on a seemingly unimaginablescale, engulfing the city as gangs torethrough, vandalizing property, lootingand destroying homes, and smashing andburning cars. People were hacked to deathwith axes. Metal pipes were used as crudeweapons. Homes were destroyed. Womenwere gang raped in public. Some peoplewere dismembered, some were set onfire. Thirty-two people died in theSumgait pogroms—26 Armenians andsis Azerbaijanis.

Many Bakvetsis were incredulous; theviolence that struck Sumgait was atro-cious, so horrifying, that most neverbelieved it would be able to permeate amulticultural, downright cosmopolitancity like Baku—where Russians, Jews,Ukrainians, Azerbaijanis, and Armeniansnot only intermingled but were friends.While discrimination was embedded inthe social strata, the differences betweenthese ethnic groups were mostly over-looked in daily life.

In no other capital in the Soviet Unionwere people as proud as they were of beingfrom Baku. After the genocide took place,these were the people who accepted us.Azeris were the people who accepted us,one man told me.

‘ Life in Baku, it was beautiful,

many of them told me. Parties. Concerts. Barbeques.

Family gatherings. Some had salvaged photos, which

they spread out across coffee tables and in their

dining rooms, showing me life as they had once

known it. Birthday cakes. Singing around pianos.

Vacations to the Black Sea in the summer, sunlight

dripping off the palm trees.

’


There were streets named afterArmenians in Baku, there were Armenianschools and churches, and a specificneighborhood in the center of the citycalled Armenikend, or “Armenian Village.”Armenians for the most part consideredthemselves integral to the history and thestrength of the city.

Life in Baku, it was beautiful, many ofthem told me. Parties. Concerts. Barbeques.Family gatherings. Some had salvaged pho-tos, which they spread out across coffeetables and in their dining rooms, showingme life as they had once known it. Birthdaycakes. Singing around pianos. Vacations tothe Black Sea in the summer, sunlight drip-ping off the palm trees. Sure, Armenianswere second-class citizens, but everyone wasfriends with everyone else for the most part,they told me. Life was rich.

After Sumgait happened, Baku was rel-atively quiet until a certain tension andfear gripped the streets, permeating thefabric of the city. It’s not going to happenin Baku. It’s never going to happen in Baku,was what many of the people I inter-viewed said they thought after Sumgait. Itcould never happen here.

Then it all changed. Things continued to shift, Armenians

were targeted more and more. They fearedfor their safety when they were outside.Some were followed by Azerbaijanis andforced to make a quick escape by hidingin nearby buildings. Mobs of Azerbaijanis,sometimes as big as 30 or 40 people, would

comb the city, pulling people off of busesand out of crowds in an attempt to“catch” Armenians. If they couldn’t iden-tify Armenians based on physical charac-teristics, the Azerbaijanis would also run“tests” of shibboleths, like the pronunci-ation of the Azeri word for “hazelnut,”(fundukh), which Armenians tended tosay with a “p” instead of an “f” sound.

Eventually, a curfew was imposed.Threats increased. Many Armenians beganto trade their apartments and sell theirbelongings in preparation for a way outof Azerbaijan.

In January 1990, rallies eventuallybroke out in the north of the country andin Baku following the decision of theArmenian Parliament to include Karabaghin its budget. When a list of Armenians’addresses was posted on the front door ofthe Azerbaijani Popular Front headquar-ters in public view, violence erupted inBaku. Ninety people died in the pogroms,known as “Black January,” in violence justas horrific as Sumgait.

For one week, it was a bloodbath withno one to stop it, one man told me.

Azerbaijanis would break into homes,searching for Armenians, vandalizingeverything. Once again, people wereassaulted, killed, raped, and mutilated.

For many Armenians fearing for theirlives, the acquaintances and the neighborsthey had known for years turned theirbacks on them. There were those whohelped, too, of course, like the Azerbaijani

neighbor who harbored one woman and her daughter in his apartment fordays until they could finally be evacuatedby a relative in the KGB, who escortedthem out with the Russian families beingevacuated from Baku. And there was theyoung group of Azerbaijanis who savedone of their friends from an inquisitivemob, insisting he was just one of them—a Tartar who couldn’t speak Azeri. Or thekind neighbor who hid her Armenianfriends in her closets and under her bedwhile Azerbaijanis raided her apartmentbuilding.

We are left with broken hearts, onewoman told me. My students asked me,‘Why did you leave?’ I tell them that it’s notlike they knocked on my door nicely andsaid, ‘Go.’ They killed and they raped.Something broke inside me.

The violence in Baku essentially drovethe rest of the Armenian population outof Azerbaijan. Most—about 200,000—hadleft by the end of 1989 and had resettledin Armenia, Russia, and other formerSoviet republics. Over the course of severaldays during and after the pogroms, theArmenians of Baku fled for their lives,gathering up their families and whateverfew possessions they could to leave byplane or by train or by truck or ferry. Theyleft everything behind, and their stomachswere weighed down with the horrible feel-ing that they were probably never goingto come back. The 18 Armenians thatI interviewed went to Armenia, andMoscow or southern Russia, primarilybecause they had some kind of personalconnection to someone living in the coun-try at the time, some family or friends whocould provide support. Eventually, these18 people came to the United States, pri-marily as refugees, where they started overa second time.

For some, seeking refuge in theirhistoric homeland, Armenia, after thepogroms seemed logical. Even thoughthey spoke Russian at home instead ofArmenian, and even if they had no familymembers to host them, they thought theywould have the space and the support torebuild their lives in Armenia, and theshock of displacement would be lessened.For some it was a source of pride. This was

‘We are left withbroken hearts,

one woman told me. My students asked me, ‘Why did

you leave?’ I tell them that it’s not like they knocked on

my door nicely and said, ‘Go. They killed and they

raped.’ Something broke inside me.

’‘


our land, our soil. We’re going to have ourroots there, they said.

Sometimes it was viewed as the onlyoption. We left Azerbaijan to go to Armeniabecause we had no other choice, one toldme. There was nowhere else we could go.

But it wasn’t always the easiest expe-rience. For some, life in Armenia meantstruggle, and they were treated as out-siders. Some were criticized for havinglived so far from the motherland or for notbeing able to speak Armenian. Others toldme of being yelled at or even spit on, beingcalled “Turks” or shortvatz (flipped)Armenians who had been happy livingwith the enemy.

Having come from a cosmopolitan citylike Baku, many were in shock when theysuddenly found themselves living inrefugee housing in rural areas, where theywere forced to grow their own food orwash their laundry by hand. Our housebecame a refugee camp, said one personwhose three-room apartment in Abovyanwas typically filled with 17 displaced rel-atives at any given time.

Others had similar experiences livingin Russia, where they were called “black,”a derogatory name for people from theCaucasus, or where they were physicallyassaulted simply because they were per-ceived as being different. This discrimi-nation grew more persistent after the fallof the Soviet Union, concurrent with therise of Russian nationalism.

During the 1990s, the United Statesallowed those fleeing persecution in theSoviet Union to come to the U.S. asrefugees. Many Armenians—up to100,000—came to the United Statesbetween 1989 and 1996, and manyreceived priority refugee status in theearly 1990s. Most of the people I inter-viewed arrived on U.S. soil with next tonothing—broken suitcases and no morethan $300 in their pockets. As adults whohad established themselves as engineers,teachers, musicians, and scientists backin Baku, they had to reinvent themselves.Some took jobs in factories or cafeteriaswhile they tried to learn English. Otherspursued their educations and tried to getahead. Struggles continued for some, andlasted longer than expected. And often, a

question arose: Did we make the rightdecision to come here?

For most I spoke with, the answer isyes. Armenians are no strangers to collec-tive trauma and violence. It’s no surprisethese 18 people displayed the resiliencyand the strength needed to not onlyrebuild their lives, but to succeed afterbeing affected both directly and indirectly

by violence that is so often the conse-quence of geopolitics.

I’ve lived in Azerbaijan. I’ve lived inArmenia, Russia, and now I live in America.Obviously I can adapt, one participantsaid. You have to lose part of you to becomepart of something else.

Over the course of more than twodecades they have turned themselves backinto engineers and teachers. Some havebecome activists and writers in places likeNew Jersey and Boston and Washington.Some have become mothers and fathersand grandparents. Some have connectedmore to their Armenian roots. Others saythey are indifferent.

Those I interviewed had many ways ofdescribing how they thought of Baku now:a shut door, a closed page, a home erased,just as evidence of the Armenian presencein Baku has been washed away with thedefacement and destruction of monu-ments and cemeteries.

For many, Baku is now just a piece oftheir history, the memories of whichremain in the recesses of their minds.Perhaps that’s what happens when thereis really no way of going back home. Veryfew said they would ever go back, even ifthey were allowed to.

There is no such place, one woman toldme. That’s all. It’s gone.

While researching this topic, I foundthat while the violence of the pogromswas recorded, the long-term impact theyhad on the Armenians from Baku hadscarcely been touched. More than onceI was asked why I was interested in thistopic. No one really cares about this any-more anyway, some said. Still, I was fas-cinated. And perhaps at the very least, Ihoped to make some contribution todocumenting stories that haven’t reallybeen told.

Toward the end of my interviews, onewoman made a remark about how BakuArmenians are a dying people. My gener-ation, that’s it. Our kids–they won’t remem-ber, they won’t know. I will try to pass thememories, though. We still remember mydad’s aunt. She was a Genocide survivor.She was 8 or 10 years old and they escapedthe Genocide. We still remember her tellingus about it. So we will probably do thesame with our kids. a

I’ve lived in Azerbaijan. I’ve lived in Armenia,

Russia, and now I live in America.

Obviously I can adapt.

You have to lose part of you to

become part ofsomething else.’‘


The Village of Togh

A Photographic Journey

BY AREVIK DANIELIAN

The village of Togh is in Hadrut, 20 kilometers north-west of the region’s center. In the 16th century, thevillage constituted the center of the principality

(Melikoutyun) of Dizak. The palace of the Meliks of Dizakis partially standing to this day.

Three churches from the 18th century stand here: TheSt. Stephen’s Church, the St. John’s Church, and the DesertChurch. There are cross-stones from the 9th and 10th cen-turies near the churches.

The name of the village comes from the numerousearthquakes in the region, which the locals used to call“togh” (tremor). In the days of the Meliks, the village hadup to 1,500 households and a population of 10,000.

Currently, the population of the village is around 700.The villagers rely on animal husbandry and farming.


Imagesfrom Post-War Life in Karabagh

I photographed these images in1998 and 2003 in Shushi,Machkalashen village inMartuni, and Stepanakert. I wasresearching post-war life for myscreenplay about a childsurvivor from the war inNagorno-Karabagh. On the roadwith my friends and family wemet many wonderful people,young and old, full of grace andresilience who captured theessence of that ancient land.Here are some of their faces.

ERIC NAZARIAN

Black and white photographs of men—and some

women—hang on the walls of Stepanakert’s Museumof Fallen Soldiers, reminding visitors of theirabsence. Tucked in a simple wooden frame, a pictureof a man with a thin mustache and a Soviet-era capstares back at Galya Arustamyan. “He was 17 when

he joined the liberation movement,” says Galya of her son,Krikor, the young man in the picture. At 21, he was killed inbattle. Ten years later, in 2002, Galya opened the doors to hermuseum, a tribute to those who lost their lives fighting forKarabagh’s self-determination. What was paid for with theblood of her son is non-negotiable, and that is the messageshe wants to convey to the international community.

The portraits of the 3,250 soldiers killed and the 132 missinglock eyes with visitors to the museum. The atmosphere there

is somber. “The pictures of all are here,” confirmed Galya. Shewould know; after all, she compiled the list of the soldiers, con-tacted their relatives, gathered their pictures, and took them toYerevan where she had them enlarged and framed.

Personal items discovered on the soldiers—clothing, hel-mets, letters, books, weapons—are displayed in glass cases. Asmall shrine stands in a corner, and includes an accordion andhelmets. The words, “Your Bravery Is Immortal,” are paintedon one wall, above the soldiers’ pictures and besides a paintingof the Mother Mary, cradling the naked and limp body of heradult son.

Galya established the museum together with the Karabagh’sFallen Soldiers’ Relatives Union, which she also heads. Theorganization provides support to the families of deceased sol-diers. But Galya wasn’t always an activist. Born and raised in a


HER SONIN THE NAME OF

BY NANORE BARSOUMIAN

village in Askeran in Karabagh, she moved to the capital ofStepanakert after completing middle school. Sometime in 1958,she began working in a textile factory, and kept the job untilthe factory burned down during the bombings in 1992.

“They were shelling the city all day long. You couldn’t findshelter anywhere. Buildings didn’t have bomb shelters. We justput up sand barriers. The situation was really bad. We were sur-rounded, completely encircled. There were no roads that led toYerevan,” she said.

Soon, the war would claim what was most precious to her,and that led her to her current work. “I lost my son. He wasborn in 1971. I lost two nephews and my brother-in-law. Thosewere difficult years. Sometime later, I got involved in thismuseum. The work I did helped ease my pain a bit,” she said.

Galya hoped her efforts would also help others with theirpain. “Parents continue to visit this museum. Their pain is heavy.Even though they say that their child died as a hero on the bat-tlefield, they can’t help but think about how their kids weren’tmarried; how they didn’t have children; or if they did, how dif-ficult it was to raise them…” In 2009, Galya published an 895-page book, titled RMK National Liberation Struggle, 1988–2009,which provides the profiles and pictures of the deceased ormissing soldiers.

Against all odds

The museum serves both as a memorial to the fallensoldiers and as a tribute to their ingenuity. Homemadeweapons, constructed with ordinary items such asforks and screwdrivers, are a source of pride.Outnumbered, outgunned, and fighting from disad-

vantaged positions, the Armenian soldiers, Galya’s son amongthem, accomplished what many considered impossible. “Theywere unarmed men facing tanks,” said Galya. “While the Azerishad Soviet weapons and ammunition—after all they were aSoviet republic, we were merely a province—they also had tech-nical help from the outside and mercenaries. They managed todrive Armenians out of Kedashen and Mardounashen. But oureagle boys were able to regroup, and they engaged in a massivecounter-attack.”

Galya recalled the words of Chechen commander ShamilBasayev who fought on behalf of the Azeris. “He said that hewas one of the last fighters to leave Shushi. He said that therewas so much ammunition with them that for a whole year, 100fighters could defend the city. They had the advantage of a highground. Our men climbed, and they seized the town,” she said.“Now, we’re also a republic.”

“There wasn’t even 150,000 of us in Karabagh—counting theinfants and the elderly—and we had 7 million against us,” shecontinued. The right to determine their own fate and to livesecurely and without fear was the driving force behind the liber-ation movement. News of the pogroms in Sumgait, Baku, andelsewhere seemed like a distant echo from the Armenian Genocide.

“We defended ourselves. Did they expect us to sit back andsuffer the fate of the Armenians in Western Armenia? They mas-sacred them all. Were we supposed to watch them massacre usall as well?” she asked. For Galya, Azeris are synonymous withTurks, and the Azeri pogroms were just another chapter in thebloody fate Armenians encountered under Turkish rule fromwell before and after the Genocide.

This perspective isn’t far from that of Azeri (or Turkish)authorities. It was Heydar Aliyev, the former president ofAzerbaijan and father to current president Ilham Aliyev, whouttered the now famous words, “One nation, two states,” indescribing the close relationship and ethnic loyalty sharedbetween Turkey and Azerbaijan. The feeling seemed mutual.Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan has evoked thosewords before his “brother Aliyev” (while not forgetting to payhomage to the words of Kemal Ataturk): “Azerbaijan’s joy is ours,Azerbaijan’s grief is ours too.” And it was based on these prin-ciples that Turkey imposed a blockade on Armenia in 1993, andcontinues to do so until today.

Oil has bought Azerbaijan tremendous support in the inter-national arena, said Galya. “We don’t have oil, and so they thinkof us as a weak state, while they consider Azerbaijan econom-ically more developed. But we have good spirits, and goodideals. This was the war fought by our boys whose pictureshang on these walls. They’re all in civilian clothes. They werecommon people. We were a peaceful people. They forced usto fight,” she said.

Galya has one message for the international community:“Let them come to this museum and see what price we havepaid in this war. Let them see how much we’ve bled. How couldwe live under Turkish rule again?” she said. “I always say, let the[Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe] MinskGroup representatives visit this museum. Let them come andsee what we have lost; how we have liberated Karabagh; howmany men have sacrificed their lives, have been wounded, orhave survived through miracles.”


‘There wasn’t even150,000 of us

in Karabagh—counting the infants

and the elderly—andwe had 7 million

against us.’

Unity in time of crisis

Galya has another important message, this one toArmenians the world over: Strength, exhibited inthe liberation of Shushi, was rooted in unity. IfArmenians lose their unity, they will lose theirstrength. “After all we’ve been through we have to

keep our unity. We have to stick together.”Victory wouldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for help

sent by the diaspora, she said, adding that she is grateful to theArmenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF), a party revered bymany in Karabagh. “They helped us in every way, and we wereable to survive. They didn’t leave us to face our fate alone. TheTurks, until today, say that we are pompous because of theArmenian Diaspora. We are not pompous, but we are proudthat Diasporan Armenians stand by our side. We love themdearly. They have seen genocide, they are dispersed all over theworld, but they unite when circumstances call for it,” she said.

Galya recalled one summer day in 1992, when her son camehome with two men she had never met before. All three had blackribbons tied around their arms. “My son came to me and said,‘Mom, fix us some food. We’re starved!’ I began preparing foodin the kitchen. They were chatting, and then they were singing.I left what I was doing and came into the room where they weresitting, and gazed at the three of them. My son turned to me and

said, ‘Mom, come with us to the battlefield. You fight, while theysing.’ Later I found out that they were Dashnak boys. At that time,they had all come here. They were helping us,” she said.

The mere knowledge that Karabagh was in the hearts andminds of Armenians across the globe gave the people of Karabaghstrength, said Galia. “From every corner of the world, Armenianscame to our aid. Even until today, they [collect aid] and bring ithere, so that Karabagh gets back on its feet—and it is. The warwas in 1992. Now I get out on the streets and I can’t believe thatthis is our city, because it was destroyed, buildings were in ruins—the pictures are hanging right over there. That was our situationthen. There were days that 70 or more people were killed. Butwe persevered because we were not alone. If we had been leftalone, the Turks would have destroyed us long ago,” she said,and pointed to the portrait of Monte Melkonian, the Armenian-American commander who died in Karabagh. “We have theentire Armenian nation on our side.”

For Galya, that unity is critical, especially when the threatof renewed bloodshed is very real. “You see, [the Azeri author-ities] haven’t let up. They haven’t accepted defeat. Day after day,their warmongering rhetoric continues. They constantly fire onour soldiers and our villages, and don’t allow our boys on theborder to get any rest,” she said.

‘They are our soldiers…’

Once a month, Galya goes to the border to meetwith the soldiers, and to offer them encourage-ment. She is, after all, the president of the coor-dinating body of the non-governmentalorganizations that cooperate with the army. She

visits each battalion and, as a mother figure, never goes empty-handed. “We bring them sweets. We spend time with them, talkto them. They are our soldiers; we have to encourage them, andlook after them. We are faced with our old enemies who don’twant us to exist,” she said.

Although there has been a ceasefire for two decades, Galyais wary of the language used by Azeri authorities. “They havebecome more insolent now and better armed, with expensivetechnology and aerial powers,” she said. “On May 12, 1994, itwas the Azeris who asked for a ceasefire when they saw thatthey were going to lose more land. We shouldn’t have agreed toit… Now they have started mouthing off again. They want ourlands again. But how could we give them any land? Every inchof this land is mixed with blood. How many boys have we lost?How many innocent civilians have we lost?”

It’s not uncommon for visitors to the museum to ask Galyawhat she thinks of Aliyev’s recent rhetoric regarding Karabagh.“Go ask folks on the street!” she always says. “Ask those motherswho have lost sons in the war! If Aliyev wants another war inKarabagh, let him send his own son to the front lines. See if he’llwant his war then. They are keeping their own children safe, whilesending the kids of common folk to fight.” a


A small shrine stands in one corner of the museum, made of anaccordion, helmets, and a few other items.


ver since the 1994 ceasefire brought a semblanceof peace to Artsakh, its people have made greatstrides in democratic self-governance and inrebuilding and improving the economic andsocial infrastructure wantonly destroyed byAzerbaijan during the Karabagh War. Duringthese difficult years the people have maintaineda collective esprit and energy that confounds theAzeri leadership.

The ultimate concern, whether we live in Artsakh or beyond,is the future viability of this historic Armenian land liberatedthrough the heroic efforts of its people. There are several ques-tions that must be affirmatively answered: Would Artsakh (andArmenia) be able to withstand renewed hostilities by Azerbaijan?Can Artsakh’s interests be protected through negotiations? DoesArtsakh have the resources to develop a robust economy, notonly for its present population, but as a future frontier beckoningDiasporan Armenians wishing to return home?

Artsakh’sProspects for Its Future

EBY MICHAEL G. MENSOIAN


Confronting renewed hostilities

Any number of reasons would—or should—deterAzerbaijan from renewing hostilities; if they did notexist, President Ilham Aliyev would have already exer-cised his oft-threatened military option. Yet, there is

always the possibility that internal pressures or his outsized egocould override prudent judgment. This analysis will only con-sider the military strategy that Azerbaijan is likely to adopt if itwere to resume hostilities, and the difficulties that a tacticalimplementation of that strategy would involve. Given theseapparent difficulties, one might question why the strategy wouldeven be considered. It is based primarily on the reality that theinternational community, and especially the neighboring coun-tries, would not tolerate a protracted war. This reality requiresa strategy that would (1) seek to occupy strategic objectiveswithin a window of opportunity of 12–15 days; (2) seek to breachthe heavily fortified frontier, preferably at both Agdam andFizuli, within the first 48–72 hours; (3) engage the defendersalong the entire front (the Northern, Central, and SouthernSectors); and (4) require the deployment of all three army corps,

or significant elements thereof, currently positioned along theArmenian-Artsakh border from Georgia to Iran.

Presently, Azerbaijan has five army corps in the field. Thefirst Army Corps is concentrated in the vicinity of Ganja. It isresponsible for the Northern Sector and the Armenian frontier.The third is stationed in the vicinity of Barda (Central Sector),and the second in the vicinity of Agdzhabedi/Beylagan(Southern Sector). The second also has responsibility for theIranian frontier. The fourth Army Corps is stationed in the capitaldistrict of Baku, and the fifth is deployed in Nakhitchevan.

Yusif Agayev, an Azeri military expert who fought in theKarabagh War, doesn’t believe “…the society of my country isready for war. I think it would be a month or two. That is theamount of time the armed forces could fight for. If it drags onlonger, then it will be a war that society will have to participatein, not just the army.” It is not likely that Azerbaijan will havethe month or two that Agayev suggests. A window of opportunityof about 12–15 days would be more likely. That is why the first48–72 hours is so critical. Within minutes of the first shot beingfired there would be an international demand for a ceasefireled by Russia, Iran, Georgia, and possibly Turkey supported by

Western Europe and the United States (covertly backed by inter-national oil interests). Given the observable signs of an Azerioffensive build-up, these nations would not wait for the first shotto be fired before diplomatic pressure is applied. Although theconflict occupies a limited geographic area, its ramifications—the “unintended consequences”—could easily destabilize theentire region. Russia, Iran, Georgia, and Turkey each have ethnicminorities with long-standing socio-economic and politicalgrievances who seek either independence or effective localautonomy. This conflict could be the spark that ignites this his-toric geographic tinderbox.

Since Azerbaijan realizes a protracted war is not viable, thestrategy is to engage the Armenian defenders along the entirefrontier. This can only be accomplished by simultaneously com-mitting elements of the three army corps responsible for mon-itoring the Artsakh border. Given this strategy, the obviousobjectives would be Agdam and Fizuli. To support these twomajor offensives, units of the second and third corps wouldengage the Armenian defenders in such tactical movements asholding actions to deny the redeployment of Armenian unitsto critical sectors of the front; diversionary maneuvers that seekto mislead or confuse the defenders; and diversionary attacksthat would seek to relieve the pressure on the main forces attack-ing Agdam and Fizuli.

Diversionary attacks from Tartar toward Mardakert wouldrelieve the pressure on the Agdam forces as well as protect theirnorthern or right flank. At the same time a diversionary attacktoward Martuni by elements of the second Army Corps wouldassist the main force attacking Fizuli and protect their easternor right flank. The first Army Corps at Ganja would most likelyengage in diversionary maneuvers and hold actions along themountainous Northern Sector. Depending on the resistanceencountered, the Azeris could commit elements of the first to afull-scale diversionary attack from Shahumian toward Mardakert.

The former United States ambassador to Azerbaijan, MatthewBryza, has suggested that “the Azeris can’t retake Artsakh now.They are militarily incapable of doing it.” He further suggestedthat he “…didn’t think they could dislodge the Armenian forcesfrom the high ground. Wayne Merry, a Senior Fellow at theAmerican Foreign Policy Council, agrees, saying that “a key factoris the topography, the extent to which Nagorno-Karabagh hascreated defenses in depth. Progress would come at a high cost.”

In addition to controlling the high ground, the Armeniandefenders have had nearly 20 years to develop fortifications indepth, as well as construct obstacles that would impede andchannel men and mechanized equipment into prepared fieldsof fire. To achieve the quick breakthrough required, the Azeriswould seek to overwhelm the defenders by deploying a numer-ically superior concentration of infantry and mechanized units.Against heavily fortified positions a disproportionate ratio ofperhaps four to five Azeri casualties to one Armenian casualtycould be expected. These excessive battlefield losses would havea demoralizing impact on the Azeri units, keeping in mind thatpossibly seven out of ten men are either 12- or 18-month con-

scripts in addition to reservists who might be called-up to aug-ment the professional army. Loss of morale would have a debil-itating impact on unit effectiveness, which would contributeto an increased casualty count. Every tactical plan is dependenton an integrated hierarchy of units from squad, platoon, on up,with each unit supporting the mission of the next higher com-mand, which could be a reinforced company or a brigade. Allunits involved must operate as one cohesive force with oneoverriding objective to have any chance of success.

Engaging the Armenians along the entire front is sound strat-egy given the realities of the situation, but it is also a catch-22situation. A phased deployment of units would favor the defend-ers, while committing significant elements of its three armycorps simultaneously in a tactical bid to overwhelm them beforean expected ceasefire can be enforced is no guarantee of success,and would most likely result in unacceptable losses in men andequipment. It is highly unlikely that the civilian population (ifaware of the losses) or the field commanders (senior officers)who must follow orders would tolerate such losses.

The prized Azeri objective would be Agdam. To the east ofAgdam is the Kura River floodplain, part of which is below sealevel (the Kura River empties into the Caspian Sea, which isabout 90 feet below sea level). From this floodplain the elevationrises westward in a step-like fashion to the high plains just westof Agdam (which is about 1,200 feet above sea level) that giveway to the hillier terrain toward Stepanakert. If Agdam is occu-pied, it would allow the Azeri forces to spill out onto this plain,thereby facilitating the increased deployment of mechanizedequipment such as tanks, armored troop carriers, self-propelledartillery, and rocket launchers for a final push towardStepanakert and Shushi, with a smaller force moving south tojoin the attack on Martuni.

To the south, a second major offensive would be underwaytoward Fizuli. A diversionary attack on Martuni would seek toease the pressure on the Fizuli force as well as protect its easternor right flank. Holding actions at Hadrut would protect the west-ern or left flank of the Fizuli force. If Fizuli were to be occupied,the main force would most likely split with the larger forcewheeling eastward toward Martuni. Should this happen, theMartuni defenders would face a three-pronged envelopingmaneuver that would either force them to fall back or be cutoff from the main Armenian forces (assuming the Azeri offensivecould succeed).

The second smaller force would augment the Azeri unitsengaged at Hadrut. If Martuni were occupied, the combinedAzeri forces would then move toward Shushi/Stepanakert fromthe southeast to support the Agdam forces attacking from thenortheast. The Azeri Hadrut units would be given the missionto protect the western or left flank of this final thrust towardArtsakh’s core area.

While this might be the essence of the Azeri strategy, its suc-cess is far from assured; the deterrents are many. First and fore-most, this analysis does not consider the defensive and offensivecapabilities of the Armenian forces, who have played out the


various strategies the Azeris might adopt. An instant problemfor the Azeris is the recognition by unbiased observers that theArmenian military force is much better prepared. Also it isunlikely that the Azeri soldier has the emotional and psycho-logical stamina or determination of the Armenian soldier, whois prepared to fight for his family, his land, his children’s future,and for his right to live as an Armenian. What reasons wouldthe Azeri soldier have to sacrifice his life in a war he might nei-ther accept nor understand?

It is the expected immediate international call for a ceasefirethat would require Azerbaijan’s massive deployment of menand equipment in a military gamble that seeks to overwhelmthe defenders and breach their fortifications. It is this tacticaldecision that could result in extremely high battlefield lossesagainst a determined, entrenched defensive force. It is not pos-sible for Azerbaijan to gain any advantage from a surprise attackbecause the intelligence gathering technology available to theArmenian military allows for the real-time gathering of infor-mation. This intelligence effort is likely aided by Russian inputand, during a conflict, possibly by covert Iranian input.

Every strategic target within Azerbaijan is within the effectiveretaliatory capability of the Armenian defenders. Pre-selectedtargets would be engaged immediately, some of which may havea devastating impact on Azerbaijan’s war effort. So much empha-sis has been placed on the publicized expansion of its army thatit is accepted as doctrine that numerical superiority in men,which is not the same as the principle of force concentration(achieving numerical superiority at a given time at a given place),is the key element on the battlefield. It is not! The Armeniandefenders have the ability to achieve force concentration togain a tactical advantage at any sector of the front based ontheir shorter interior lines of communication that facilitate therapid deployment of troops and equipment. In addition, adefending force occupying heavily fortified positions may havea ratio of three or four to one advantage over the attackingforces: The Azeri staging areas where units are readied for move-ment to the front; their approaches to the line of contact; aswell as their supply and resupply routes, are all vulnerable toeffective Armenian counter-measures.

Adding to the deterrents is the sophisticated level of plan-ning, coordination, and execution required and the real-timeevaluation and response to evolving situations at the fronts thatmay require immediate tactical changes; the augmentation orredeployment of units; resupply; and the evacuation of battle-field casualties. It is highly problematic if the Azeri militarycommand has this capability at the level required. Some of theofficers and a smaller number of non-commissioned officers(NCO) may be veterans of the Karabagh War. Assuming the pub-licized expansion of the army is accurate, most of the juniorofficers (captain and below) who fill the majority of the combatslots in any unit, as well as the NCO’s, may well be the weaklink in the Azeri command structure in terms of training, lead-ership, and indoctrination. A resumption of hostilities is notlikely to provide President Aliyev the solution he seeks.

Can negotiations protect Artsakh’s interests?

The principles advanced by the Minsk Group (representedby Russia, France, and the United States) to guide thenegotiations, no matter how nuanced they have beenover time, continually stress (1) the inviolability of

Azerbaijan’s territorial integrity and (2) that when and howArtsakh’s final status is determined, it will be no better thanlimited autonomy under Azerbaijan’s jurisdiction. This raisesan important question: If Artsakh had the legal right to declareits independence under the principles of remedial cessation orself-determination, or under the laws of the Soviet constitution,the negotiators, including the Artsakh representatives, shouldbe discussing the timing of Artsakh’s recognition; indemnifica-tion for displaced people/refugees (both Armenian and Azeri);its final boundaries; and the status of Shahumian, and the occu-pied border areas of Mardakert and Martuni. It may be difficultto accept, but some adjustments in the area to be included inArtsakh may have to be considered. An offer giving Azeris mar-ried to Armenians (possibly including their extended families)the right of return to Artsakh might also be considered.

Azerbaijan continues to claim that its territorial integrity isbeing violated by Armenia. This is a specious argument ostensiblysupported by the Minsk Group. Azerbaijan is purposely misin-terpreting Principle 4 under Chapter 2, Article 1 of the Charterof the United Nations, which prevents a state from threateningthe territorial integrity of a neighboring state. It is the ArtsakhArmenians who threatened the territorial integrity of Azerbaijanby having legally declared their independence. However, Principle4 does not apply to Artsakh. Armenia’s intervention was limitedto providing humanitarian and military assistance to protect abeleaguered population from the indiscriminate use of militaryforce by the Azeris. The present Armenian presence in Artsakhrepresents a stabilizing influence that facilitates the recoveryeffort and a preventive measure against a renewal of hostilities.

Economic development

Artsakh’s natural resource base is more than adequateto support at least ten times its present population ofapproximately 140,000. However, several interrelatedfactors—a reverse domino effect—represent serious

obstacles that must be addressed before a robust economy candevelop. The most obvious are (1) Artsakh’s tenuous politicalstatus, which (2) inhibits foreign investment, which (3) dis-courages in-migration.

Tenuous political status

Artsakh declared its independence in 1991 and has,since the 1994 ceasefire, met all of the “unofficial”requirements for de jure recognition. (Unfortunately,recognition is a highly subjective political decision.)


Until recognition is granted, it is vital that Artsakh continue toinvite foreign government leaders, as it did recently withUruguayan parliamentarians. While recognition will not comesolely or immediately from these visits, they will lay the ground-work as well as the perception that recognition is highly likely tooccur. It is an important first step (which Stepanakert alreadyrecognizes) if investment is to be encouraged. Dependence onthe level of aid presently received is not adequate to stimulate arobust economy that can independently sustain Artsakh. However,this aid has made significant improvements in basic infrastructurethat has improved the quality of life for the people—the foun-dation upon which Artsakh’s future will be built.

To facilitate this process Artsakh must continue to expand itspublic relations effort through the various political, humanitarian,

and philanthropic organizations that are already committed toits cause. Without getting into the political aspects of the Artsakhissue, its long-term viability should represent the most significantissue on the Armenian national agenda. The more the ArmenianDiaspora knew about Artsakh—its achievements and potential—the greater its response to aid in Artsakh’s development.

Measured population increase

Increasing the population should go hand-in-hand with eco-nomic development. However, what is required and doable isa measured increase in population as a means to meet politicaland economic needs. Politically it is difficult to claim “empty”

lands however justified that claim may be when the lands are notreasonably integrated with the core area. We should have learnedfrom the Turkish inspired genocide that emptied historic westernArmenia of our people to weaken if not eliminate potential terri-torial claims by Armenia. A program of selective immigration wouldseek to meet the political and economic objectives identified bya government master plan for strategic resettlement (see “The

Strategic Resettlement of Artsakh,” The Armenian Weekly, Feb. 19,2011). Stepanakert must be prepared to effectively assist thesenewcomers to Artsakh. It cannot be expected that these 21st-century Armenians are pioneers able or willing to “tame” the wilder-ness. That type of settlement program is a prescription for disaster.

As Stepanakert increases its connections with various organ-izations and institutions beyond its borders; as it cultivates rela-tions with foreign governments; and as the world community(including our diaspora) are given reasons to support Artsakh,an aura of inevitability with respect to recognition will encouragegreater interest from foreign investors, including Armenians.Although Artsakh has already benefited from visionary diasporanentrepreneurs, de jure recognition is essential to open the flood-gate for foreign investment

Renewable energy sources

Present available data for Nagorno-Karabagh indicate asignificant potential for the development of renewableenergy. This is important given the absence of carbonif-erous energy resources. Several sites in the vicinity of

Jermajur and Vaghuhas in the north and in the Stepanakert-Shushi region have been identified as “most appropriate” forconstructing wind turbines to generate electric power. Othersecondary sites exist, as well as sites in Kashatagh that have yetto be fully evaluated.

The region receives an average of about 23 inches of pre-cipitation annually, which is sufficient for agriculture supple-mented by irrigation if or when necessary. Precipitation generallyincreases from the south/southeast toward the higher elevationsto the north/northwest. In the Kashatagh Region precipitationincreases north toward the Eastern Sevan/Mrav Mountains.Surface flow and the many deep narrow valleys provide sitesthat may be used to construct dams for water storage, hydro-electric generation and irrigation, as well as preventing floods


from the annual spring snow melt from the higher elevationsthat dominate the north and northwestern portions of Artsakh.The average precipitation would suggest a greater proportionof days with less than one-quarter of the sky covered by clouds.This would result in more hours of daily sunlight, which wouldfacilitate the development of solar power. Renewable energywould be a boon for the remote villages, which could draw uponlocally produced energy. In addition, Artsakh’s balance of pay-ments situation would benefit by eliminating or reducing pay-ments for energy imports.

Potential sectors of the economy

Artsakh’s farmers should be able to produce a wide vari-ety of field and tree crops (including viti culture). Somespecialized products would include processed andcomb honey, a variety of berries, nuts, and fresh-cut

flowers. Natural and upgraded pastures could support com-mercial dairy farming including poultry and egg production,cattle and sheep rearing, and hog raising. In addition, the by-products associated with each animal are able to support a vari-ety of economic activities. A recent trade report cited theshortage of pork production in China (a potential market). Givenpresent technology, a hog carcass in Artsakh can be debonedand cut up to reduce its weight and bulk, flash frozen, vacuumedsealed in “cryovac” and boxed to be economically air lifted toa foreign market. Historically the region was home to theKarabagh horse. No reason why rearing horses could not bereintroduced on a much larger scale.

Given the emphasis on the agricultural sector the processingindustry could be an important source for exports. In NorthAmerica there are significant nodes of Armenian population—Boston, New York, Philadelphia, DC, Los Angeles, Montreal, andToronto—that could be developed as markets for some ofArtsakh’s products, including wine, vodka, brandy, bottled waterand beer. This would require appropriate advertising and main-taining trade representatives, possibly in New York and LosAngeles. These markets could also serve as conduits to introduceArtsakh’s products to a wider geographic area and a larger pop-ulation. If the Stepanakert International Airport could becomeoperational, it would be a significant political and economictriumph that would give Artsakh the potential for direct linksto the world. Is it no wonder that Azerbaijan is so vehement inits opposition.

Artsakh’s forests could support an important domestic con-struction materials industry that would include such productsas dimension lumber and timbers, composition board, specialtywood products, and roofing materials as well as furniture man-ufacturing. This could be augmented by quarrying for buildingstone, sand and gravel, limestone for cement, and the manu-facturing of ceramics and glass. Given its resource base and aneducated workforce, Artsakh has many options to pursue indeveloping a viable economy including an expansion of itsincipient information technology industry.

Finally, Artsakh’s history, its ancient structures, archeo-logical sites, breath-taking scenery, and mineral springs areideal for tourism. Not to be overlooked are the gracious,friendly people and the cuisine. Tourism is a means for visitors,diasporan Armenians included, to become acquainted withthe people and their country. Tourism is a catalyst that gen-erates the need for better roads, transport facilities, lodgings,publications, a multitude of support services, a wide rangeof goods to meet the needs of the tourists, and most impor-tantly, occupational opportunities. Although tourism doesnot generate high-paying jobs, it does provide valuable expe-riences for first-time employees to learn various skills as away to move up the employment ladder. It is also a means toimprove the balance of payments situation.

Several years ago I wrote an article entitled, “Artsakh: TheKey to Armenia’s Political and Economic Future” (TheArmenian Weekly, January 2010 Special Magazine Issue). Threeyears later I am even more bullish on Artsakh’s prospects afterhaving witnessed the tremendous progress its people havemade. Artsakh is a land of unlimited opportunity that can andwill become our nation’s future frontier beckoning Armeniansto return home to participate in rebuilding an ancient landthat has been reborn. a


august 31, 2013 · august 31, 2013| the armenian weekly| 5 action was the hatred he felt towards...

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