19-Jul-2019
The tragic events portrayed and commemorated in this complex are still very much a contemporary issue.
As Thomas de Waal explains in his book Great Catastrophe, "The century-old question of the killing and deportation of the Armenians of the Ottoman Empire in 1915 -- the events that have come to be known as the Armenian Genocide -- ranks as the longest and most bitter historical dispute still alive. It helps keep the Armenia-Turkey border closed, parliaments discuss it, and ambassadors are recalled. It largely defines the identity of the worldwide Armenian diaspora... Around half of the current population of Armenia derives from Ottoman Armenians who fled their homeland in 1915-1920."
The subtitle of De Waal's book is "Armenians and Turks in the Shadow of Genocide", and he clarifies his endorsement of that term as follows: "I use the term 'Armenian Genocide' in the book, having, after much reading, respectfully agreed with the scholarly consensus that what happened to the Armenians in 1915-1916 did indeed fit the 1948 United Nations definition of genocide. At the same time, along with many others, I do so with mixed feelings, having also reached the conclusion that the 'G-word' has become both legalistic and over-emotional, and that it obstructs the understanding of the historical rights and wrongs of the issue as much as it illuminates them."
The Memorial consists of 12 basalt slabs (one for each of the "lost" provinces of western Armenia) sheltering an eternal flame, and a spire similarly depicting the split between the Armenia that remains and the Armenia that was. For some of the visiting groups, this was obviously all very personal.
The museum exhibition is of a very high quality. As you work your way round the detailed exhibits, it is impossible not to be horrified by the sheer scale of the killing enterprise, or moved by the individual stories.
I would have liked, though, to see a bit more interrogation of the whole geopolitical situation that fed into this catastrophe. The "cruel Ottoman" narrative surely does not provide all the motivational answers here.
The whole experience -- layering in on top of the monument to the Pontic Greeks we saw in Piraeus, and the memorial to famine victims in Almaty -- was very thought-provoking.
How do you remember these terrible events (because remember them we must) without sowing bitterness and hatred for the generations to come? How do you face them square on, without becoming subsumed by them so that they become your whole identity?
I don't know. But I want to know.
Somehow, against all the odds it might seem, Armenia survives. A little later today we visited the Katoghike Church, the oldest church in Yerevan, and one with an extraordinary history of eclipse and survival. It seems like a metaphor for the whole country...