“Force, hatred, history, all that. That’s not life for men and women—insult and hatred. And everybody knows that it’s the very opposite of that that is really life.” A sentence, first written over a hundred years ago in James Joyce’s epic Ulysses, still holds personal relevance in 2023.

Joyce offers many moments from which I hope to draw meaning. A challenge that can often feel impossible, yet attempts at it are powerful, symbolizing the hope of finding significance in a chaotic and violent world. The world was violent in 1922—and sadly, it remains so in 2023.

There have been countless examples just this year: from Russia’s ongoing war to Hamas’ attacks and Israel’s brutal response in Gaza. One crisis, however, struck me personally. In the South Caucasus, between Eastern Europe and Asia, a decades-long territorial conflict reached a peak that displaced over a hundred thousand civilians. The region of Nagorno-Karabakh, geographically within Azerbaijan, had been disputed with neighboring Armenia for decades, due to its historical population of ethnic Armenians.

This persisted until September 2023, when the Azerbaijani military launched a campaign that allowed Azerbaijan to retake the entire territory. The country is led by the autocrat Ilham Aliyev. Concerned that their way of life would be suppressed under this dictatorship, the Armenian population was forced to leave. Nearly a year before the conquest, the Azerbaijani government had imposed a blockade preventing food and other essentials from reaching the region.

All this time, as people in Nagorno-Karabakh were starved and displaced, the Western world looked away. Why? Is it mere ignorance? Or is there a more cynical motive, to avoid tarnishing a supposed reputation as defenders of democracy and human rights? The truth may lie somewhere in between.

I bear no hostility toward individuals in the West who are unaware of this issue. I am still among those people. Questions that affect the lives of our families and loved ones take up most of our political perspectives. Before July 2022, I knew that Armenia and Azerbaijan existed—but to be honest, I probably couldn’t have pointed to either on a map. That changed when I met a smart, strong, and beautiful young woman who, unlike me, was not ignorant. She is a journalist living in Yerevan. For five months, we lived together in Berlin as part of an international exchange program.

As the year progressed, we stayed in contact. I traveled through Europe while she returned to Armenia to continue her work. She became my gateway to the culture and history of her country, which I sensed was steeped in melancholy. One of the oldest surviving cultures—the Armenian people endured Ottoman rule. In the lead-up to World War I, this once-powerful realm collapsed under the rise of nationalism and demands for emancipation by the people it occupied, including Armenians. Peasants and laborers began rebelling against heavy taxation, only to be brutally suppressed by the Ottomans.

As the war continued, the empire feared that the eastern territories might secede due to the increasing desire for autonomy and independence. In 1915, the government implemented policies to significantly reduce the Armenian population to prevent secession. Mass deportations began, forcing hundreds of thousands of civilians under armed supervision to march into the Syrian desert. People were rounded up and executed by the thousands. This was the Armenian Genocide.

During the Soviet era, Armenia existed as a state but only as one of many satellite republics under the influence of the Moscow Politburo. Only after the collapse of the Soviet Union did Armenia become sovereign and democratic. Yet these positive developments were overshadowed by the first war with Azerbaijan over Nagorno-Karabakh, leading to rationing of water and electricity to support the war effort. Armenia won the war and took full control of Nagorno-Karabakh, but in the process, many innocent Azerbaijani civilians who had lived in the region were displaced.

I arrived well past midnight. My eyes longed for sleep as I scanned the crowd until I made eye contact with my girlfriend and saw her generous smile. She was accompanied by her roommate, the equally intelligent and humorous Satèn, who has a fondness for quotes from The Office. I reached out, and she immediately opened her arms for a hug. She told me that she had ordered an extra key that morning, so I could come and go freely. When I asked how much it cost, so I could pay her back later, she simply said, “Forget it.”

From the moment I arrived, I was overwhelmed by generosity and kindness. I immediately liked Satèn, who listened attentively. And though she may not always have an answer to every question, the act of listening—admitting that answers are not always easy—is perhaps as important, if not more so. What I saw were people with immense knowledge and openness to the world, qualities that children are only beginning to learn at a very young age.

The next day, I met another former participant of our program, who also lives in Yerevan with her husband and four-year-old daughter. My jaw dropped when I learned that this little girl is learning both English and Russian at an age when I would have been doing puzzles or drawing SpongeBob cartoons. Once she starts school, she will also likely participate in one of the most unusual compulsory subjects: chess. Since 2011, Armenia has promoted chess in schools to instill responsibility and organization in children.

“In Armenia, hope lies in its youth, so they invest in them,” Anthony Bourdain once said when visiting the Tumo Center for Creative Technologies, where Satèn works. She kindly gave me a tour of the vast, modern complex. Here, youth aged 12 to 18 can pursue a creative hobby of their choice—from music to graphic design to film production—at their own pace. Mentors are there to support and guide, never to command or control. The program is free, and a child’s talent is not limited by their parents’ income. The sole purpose is to allow them to explore and express their abilities. The center was founded by an Armenian diaspora couple who returned from the United States, generations after the genocide. It is an investment in the youth of a young country, as Bourdain described.

Whether a country is young or old, many have been attacked by the same enemy: authoritarian demagogues who, over the last decade, have dismantled the checks and balances of democratic societies. In the United States, this appeared as court politicization under the Trump administration and efforts by figures like Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos to delegitimize unions. In Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro demonized and terrorized the LGBTQ+ community. Erdogan in Turkey and Orban in Hungary gained control over prominent media outlets. This process is called “democratic backsliding,” measured by official indices ranking countries from “full democracy” to “authoritarian regime.” Countries experiencing this trend decline in ranking over time. For example, the U.S. in 2012 was considered a “full democracy,” but ten years later, in 2022, it is now classified as a “flawed democracy.” Turkey under Erdogan lost 1.47 points over a decade and is now considered a “hybrid regime.”

But there are exceptions—one is Armenia. Over the past ten years, indices show a strengthening of democracy. This change was due to the Armenian people rising against an increasingly authoritarian government in 2018. Since the 1990s, Armenia’s political landscape, like other post-Soviet countries, had been dominated by a powerful and corrupt oligarchy, which relied on strong ties to Russia. Even today, Armenia depends on Russian support for national security. In 2018, outgoing President Serzh Sargsyan appointed himself Prime Minister. The Armenian people feared this would extend his unchecked rule, sparking protests nationwide. Recognizing the futility of resistance, Sargsyan resigned, and revolutionary leader Nikol Pashinyan took office as Prime Minister, where he remains today.

Armenia freed itself from authoritarian rulers, and its people have since embraced renewed hope to move closer to Europe. Pashinyan’s government expressed concern over ongoing dependence on Putin’s Russia and a desire to strengthen European partnerships.

During my week in Armenia, I saw a country making enormous strides against global trends. While the world leaned toward nationalism, isolationism, and right-wing populism, Armenians initiated innovative projects to help youth achieve individual empowerment. The people I met were generous and open. They had fought for their democratic rights, winning a peaceful revolution.

Yet this hope and courage were met with silence and complicity. This complicity stems from immoral and corrupt European energy policies. Instead of making major investments in green renewable energy to create thousands of well-paid jobs, European politicians chose the “easier” route: relying on gas as a “bridge” from fossil fuels. Europe chose conformity over courage. This led to pipelines supplying Russian gas to Germany—even after Putin’s illegal annexation of Crimea—a policy that cost the Ukrainian people dearly. As Russia continues its brutal war, Europe has finally attempted to reduce dependency on Russian gas. But a new partner in this endeavor is Azerbaijan’s President Ilham Aliyev. The EU has chosen to expand ties with Azerbaijan to purchase energy, compensating for losses from Russia. Europe repeats the same treacherous mistake, prioritizing silence and forcing the people of Armenia and Nagorno-Karabakh to pay a heavy price.

That is why I constantly return to James Joyce’s words from 1922. Spoken by the protagonist Leopold Bloom, a Jewish man born and living in Ireland under British occupation, the novel discusses many issues, including nationalism. In one episode, Bloom meets a bitter Irish nationalist who says of the British occupiers: “Sons of whores! No music, no art, no literature worth the name. All the civilization they have, they stole from us.” Though his hostility toward England can be explained through the brutal lens of colonialism, his worldview is nevertheless chauvinistic and self-centered. His nation is the center of all things. Everything “positive” can be traced back to his homeland. He rejects Bloom as part of his country because of Bloom’s Jewish identity. Bloom’s definition of nationalism is not so rigid. Nationality, religion, or ethnicity cannot define an individual or dictate their “homeland.” His nationalism is not defined by a desire for dominance but simply by a desire to exist.

I thought of this passage on my last day in Yerevan. In a quiet moment, Satèn expressed hope—and perhaps pride—that Armenia would survive. They had survived occupation, genocide, and war. In her words:

“We Armenians have been through so much shit. That’s why I believe there will always be Armenians, no matter what happens.”

I hope she is right.

Armenia’s Revolution, Europe’s Silence

20/01/2024