Armenia's Murky Media Landscape

The title of the article on aravot.am read, "The Avetisyan's son fought with the murderer prior to being killed." The piece was subsequently picked up by other news outlets (http://168.am/2015/03/04/463714.html, http://shabat.am/?p=57038&l=am/) and made its way on to social media platforms. In this new media age, the propensity to 'click' before you think has become a global craze. There are ample examples of this affliction in the Armenian virtual space as well.

This particular example highlights the irresponsibility of media outlets, whose proclivity for acquiring as many 'likes' as possible, primarily on Facebook - the preferred 'drug' of Armenians on the Internet - is creating a worrisome trend and eroding the last vestiges of journalistic integrity in an already murky media landscape.

The horrific murder of the seven members of the Avetisyan family in Gyumri on January 12 sent shockwaves around the country. The alleged murderer, Russian soldier Valery Permyakov, who was stationed at the 102nd Russian military base in Gyumri is currently being held in custody by the Russian side.

The high profile nature of the case has lent itself to a litany of conspiracy theories and in the absence of clarity regarding the details of the murder and the subsequent investigation, people are making assumptions, accusations and developing their own hypothesis as to what exactly transpired and why. 

The title of the article in question asserts that one of the victims had struggled with the murderer before being killed. The investigation has not concluded, the accused Permyakov has not stood trial and the Investigative Committee of Russia, who is leading the actual investigation has made no such statement.

The sisters of Hasmik Avetisyan, one of the victims of the multiple homicide, spoke with aravot.am regarding the case and confirmed that the family had retained two new lawyers to represent them. One of the sisters Rita Petrosyan said, "We want to know: Is Permyakov guilty or someone else? Were the bullets fired from that gun? Why was my Armen (the son of Hasmik Avetisyan) discovered on the floor? Did he fight? Certainly there must have been a struggle that Armen was found on the floor."

A distraught relative's assumptions, 'inspired' the reporter in question to write with certainty that Armen Avetisyan had struggled with the murderer prior to being killed. Perhaps he did, but in the absence of any clear evidence, the inevitable question arises --  why would a media outlet, whose objective should be to report the news accurately and secure the trust of its readers, disrespect those very same readers by misleading them?

Time to Get Mad

Photo credit: Seda Grigoryan

"Tommy, don't you go fighten' em alone. They'll hunt you down like a coyote. Tommy, I got to thinkin' an' dreamin' an' wonderin'. They say there's a hun'red thousand of us shoved out. If we was all mad the same way, Tommy - they wouldn't hunt nobody down..."

The Grapes of Wrath

The matriarch of the Joad family in John Steinbeck's 1939 novel, "The Grapes of Wrath" said these words to her eldest son Tom after the family had been forced off their land. I read Steinbeck's novel when I was in high school at a time and place in my life where these words did not resonate or make an impression on my consciousness, or so I thought. I made my daughter read it one summer long ago and while looking for something to read recently, I picked it out of my library once again. The timing was auspicious in light of recent events in Armenia. 

The intimidation, the attacks, the impunity and the ensuing simmering anger we all are feeling, the lack of unity against what most perceive as an oppressive ruling regime, the inclination to write statuses on Facebook that are suspended virtually and never transform into action to eradicate the unending abuse have left most of us feeling helpless against a regime that is becoming emboldened by the deafening silence.

Indeed, certain 'leaders' in Armenia have most of the characteristics of an abuser - they keeps tabs on what we do, seek to control our thoughts, beliefs and conduct, restrict our rights and freedoms, constantly accuse us of being unfaithful, punish us for breaking their rules or challenging their authority, control all our money, humiliate us in front of others, destroy our property and those things we care about, threaten to hurt us or our loved ones and then actually resort to physical violence.

The inherent mutual distrust is slowly eating away at the core of our country.

What we need to do is stop being victimized. It's time to get mad, really "mad the same way" so that we are not "hunted down like a coyote."

This Tired and Ancient Soil

Photo credit: Seda Grigoryan

I carried the soil in my suitcase. It came from beneath the ruins, it held the decaying bones of past lives, it came from fields where mulberries grow, where countless stories are buried and where memories tumble along cascading rivers, submerging, reappearing and then finally drowning in the rushing current. The soil held the melodic chords of hymns sung for centuries in ancient churches with soaring domes, it was rich with the toil and sweat of the farmer, the despair of orphans and the blood of martyrs.

I carried the ancient crumbling soil in my suitcase to mix it with the soil of a new country.

The women who loved him held that ancient soil in their hands and then released it onto his freshly covered grave...

* * *

Sometimes it's easier to talk about the horrors and atrocities of the past than it is to talk about the uncertain present. The tumultuous events of the past few weeks in Armenia have provided ample opportunity for many of us to be outraged, to weep in horror and cringe with shame.

Sometimes, certain events that occur in the present are so difficult to confront that you turn inward and refuse to comprehend their raw brutality. You bury your head in that ancient soil, hoping for comfort and solace, because you know that soil has seen and experienced so much.

Today, several of my colleagues and I were discussing the special programs we are preparing for the centenary of the Armenian Genocide. I was glad for the reprieve it presented from our modern-day woes. The Genocide is a familiar space. We know how to deal with it. We know how it feels, we know its smell and its aura. We've grown accustomed to its constant presence in our lives. It's a safe place, safer than the here and now. Or so I thought.

As the discussion about a particular program transformed into a debate, and as voices were jumping over one another,  expostulating, struggling to underscore a point, one of our editors broke down and began to weep as she spoke about a past experience...

"What is going on with you?" I asked.

"I don't know. I'm not doing well this year," she replied.

This year. This 100th year. One hundred years and it doesn't end. There is no closure. There is no safe place to exist, not yet, perhaps never.

* * *

As my father lay in the cold ground in the new country, as we are powerless against death and dying, as his dream for the lost homeland died with him, as his yearning for his ancestral village in historic Armenia never left him, the only thing I could do was to bring a little bit of that ancient soil with me and scatter it on his grave so that his bones could rest and his soul could find some solace.

The Nation and Seryozha

Requiem service in St. Nshan Church, Gyumri. Photo credit: Eric Grigoryan

"Seryozha didn't make it."

This is the message that appeared on my computer screen as the sun was slowly setting in Yerevan on Monday. It had been a horrific week. We had been working excruciatingly long hours and were worn down by the immensity of the emotions we had been confronting. A shocking multiple murder had rocked the country. Six members, three generations of the Avetisyan family had been murdered in their home in Gyumri. But Seryozha, the beautiful baby boy who had miraculously survived the massacre even after being stabbed by a bayonet of a Russian soldier was still breathing, he was fighting to stay alive. He was our blessing. He was our hope.

It took a few seconds for the news to sink in. I buried my face in my hands to contain the sorrow and rage that seemed to be exploding from my heart. His soft, round face, his white skin, his dark hair, his angelic face...I sat at my desk, in front of my computer screen, paralyzed. Seryozha died and took our hope along with him. Our prayers, our pleas to the heavens to let this one child, this innocent victim of an incomprehensible crime survive. Survive to carry his family name, to grow up, thrive, love and be loved. He was and would be loved and protected by the nation.

Some may say we love to grieve and mourn, that melancholy is a national affliction. Perhaps it is. Perhaps it is a result of a century of sorrow. But this tragedy, the death of Seryozha touched a raw nerve from which it will be difficult to recover.

His death left us with a gaping hole in our hearts. Tomorrow he will be laid to rest next to his family. Maybe this world wasn't worthy of the purity he has come to symbolize. Maybe he needed to be with his family...

May Seryozha be the guardian angel for all of our children, for the children of the nation. May we all work harder, become better human beings, strive for love and peace in our lives, our country and our world. May your soul repose in peace Seryozha. Here is a lullaby to guide your journey.

A Turbulent Beginning 

Photo by Daron Titizian.

"You sound tired," my sister said.

I was. It was only my second day back at the office after a much-needed Christmas break from work and the world, but I felt drained.

"I am," I said.

"Working too much again?" she asked.

How could I begin to explain all the events that had taken place in the past few days? How could so much pain and tragedy be compressed into a fleeting moment of time in the grand narrative of life?

"You remember our Turkish colleague, Gaye, who was in hospital fighting for her life after a hit-and-run? Well, she died," I said flatly. "Oh..." she said and thought that was it.

But it wasn't. I went on...

"You know, we're still in a state of war really. Tensions on the border have been high, we've already lost several young soldiers. And today, well, today six members of one family were shot dead while they were sleeping in their beds by a Russian soldier," I said. "Everything is so damn personal in Armenia."

It is.

Today, I kept seeing the image of the sole surviving infant of the tragedy in Gyumri, who miraculously survived the gruesome killing of his entire family. I wish people would stop sharing his picture, it's tearing the last shreds of my humanity apart. That innocent child will now grow up without the devotion and caress of his mother's hands, or the love of his father. What kind of life can he expect or will he have?

I walk out of the office to get some fresh air. I see people going about their daily routine, rushing to an appointment, parents picking up their children from school, young couples holding hands, an elderly man walking with a cane, his back bent from a hard life, teenagers laughing.

One emotion tumbles onto the next - anger, pain, resentment, outrage. It's hard, living here, I think to myself. I'm not lost in a crowd of millions like I was when I was living in Canada, it's not an obscure existence. Everyone I see is somehow connected to each other, connected to someone who is connected to me.

And then it dawns on me...we are a big family, a clan, a tribe, we are connected and yes, it is damn personal but it's also the reason why we have to keep on living, to try and find the beauty that I believe exists somewhere. Maybe that is what this journey is about, the desire to find beauty and peace. One day I hope to find it.

1915 - 2015: The Gallipoli Campaign, the Armenian Genocide and Turkey

The Landing at Anzac, April 25, 1915 by Charles Dixon.

As we enter the much anticipated centenary year of our collective suffering, many of us continue to hope that we will manage to overcome divisive tendencies and take full advantage of the anniversary to place our demands on all national and international platforms.

Surely, this will be the first of many pieces I will write about this important year, and surely many more of us and 'them' will also be writing, analyzing, computing, arguing, defending, postulating...

The need to move beyond words to actions has never had as much urgency as it does now. So, instead of writing meandering thoughts as many of us have already done, I want to talk about one of the many initiatives being undertaken by Turkey to thwart, veil, and swerve the discussion from the Armenian Genocide to other issues and historical events.

The Gallipoli Campaign, also known as the Dardanelles Campaign or the Battle of Canakkale (Canakkale Savasi - Turkish) was spearheaded by the Lord of the British Admiralty, Winston Churchill during World War I. The disastrous campaign, led by the British was intended to secure a sea route from the Gallipoli peninsula, the northern bank of the Dardanelles (the Ottoman Empire at the time) to the Russian Empire. This campaign by the Allies on April 25, 1915 involved British, French, Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) and aimed to secure Constantinople (present-day Istanbul). Poor planning, lack of sufficient intelligence and knowledge of the terrain coupled with fierce Turkish resistance led to heavy casualties on both sides and the eventual withdrawal of Allied forces to Egypt. 

Canakkale Savasi has a very significant place in Turkish history, it has become a symbol of how the Ottoman army was able to hold back a multinational force and "prevent them from invading the Turkish homeland." It is equally significant for Australia and New Zealand; for these two countries, the campaign remains a sense of national pride and identity.

On April 25, each year, Australia and New Zealand conduct three Anzac Day services at Gallipoli in Turkey. The Dawn Service at the Anzac Commemorative Site is conducted jointly by both countries and is followed by an Australian Memorial Service at Lone Pine, and a New Zealand Memorial Service at Chunuk Bair.

Up until 2013, Turkey commemorated the fallen soldiers of Gallipoli on March 18, which is known as Canakkale Victory and Martyrs Day. However, in anticipation of the world's attention centering on the 100th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide, Turkey has decided that this year, the Battle of Gallipoli will be marked on April 24.

Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan has made it clear that official Ankara will actively challenge Armenian attempts at forcing a change in the 100 year narrative of Turkish denial in this most crucial commemorative year. 

This move leaves little doubt that Turkey is placing greater emphasis and attention on the commemoration of Canakkale on April 24 as opposed to April 25, 2015 to divert attention from the centenary of the Armenian Genocide.

Dozens of heads of states are expected to attend the ceremonies being organized by Turkey at the highest levels. The Prime Ministers of Australia, New Zealand, Great Britain, Crown Prince Charles and Prince William of Great Britain, including Australian actor Russell Crowe are also expected to attend.

What can we do? Armenian communities in those countries that participated in the Gallipoli Campaign (Great Britain, France, Canada, Australia and New Zealand) and who are expected to take part in the commemoration ceremonies on April 24 should begin a campaign asking their countries' leadership to refrain from participating. The Armenian government, along with the countless activities it is planning for the centenary of the Genocide, could put its diplomats into action (a novel idea) to counter this Turkish move, although there is no Armenian Embassy in Australia (I guess having one in the Vatican was more expedient).

A Promise

Handmade angel by Geghanush Tovmasyan

The holiday season is still in full swing in Armenia. Most in the country return to work only on January 12...after all, we need time to celebrate the New Year, Armenian Christmas and the Old New Year.

While this may appear to be extravagant for most in the West, and perhaps underscores the inefficiency of a country that doesn't have time to spare, it does give those of us living here the opportunity to take a real break, re-energize, reflect and more importantly, get together with friends and family around festive dinner tables.

Last night, I had the chance to get together with some of my 'younger' colleagues and as we ate and drank, the conversation as always, turned to the condition of the country, our hopes and dreams, our successes and failures and the many missed opportunities. And as always, a question that I grapple with often managed to find it's way into the fluid conversation - did my generation do enough?

A glass of wine was raised and a response to my question came in the form of a toast:  "Your generation achieved something, it gave us independence, and now it's our generation's responsibility to make sure we keep it."

Merry Christmas.