Weather forecast: bombs are dropping in the Caucasus
27 September 2020. Azerbaijani forces attack Nagorno Karabakh, justifying the action through an alleged Armenian first offence. The ceasefire signed in 1994 is broken: Yerevan and Baku are once again on the edge of a proper conflict, due to a dispute with profound historical roots.
What does this potential war mean for young Armenian people, both those who are raising awareness on the issue on social media and the ones fighting in Nagorno-Karabakh and on the border with Azerbaijan?
Elya
Elya is answering my questions from Yerevan, capital city of Armenia. She is living there with a friend as she attends online classes, since she could not leave to go to university in the United States. She is in Yerevan, but her mind and heart are scattered: her thoughts go to her family in Vayk, a town in the centre of Armenia and closer to the border with Azerbaijan, and to her childhood friends currently in Nagorno Karabakh for their army service. As we talk, the memories of my visit to Vayk become more vivid: last year, when I was there, we said goodbye to those same 18 years old boys that are now fighting in the conflict. “I know them, I grew up with them: they were never brought up to go and kill someone, to give up on their dreams and go fight on a border. It is so hard to put this into words: people my age are dying so that I can live.” I remember the worried tone in her voice when she was explaining to me that almost all of her schoolmates were sent to the tense region of Nagorno Karabakh. Still, the possibility of a proper large scale conflict seemed far away, last summer. A year and a couple of months later, she is telling me how on September 27 she woke up to the voice message of her flatmate’s boyfriend, doing his army service: “It started. ‘The war has started. I am going. I love you, don’t worry.’” But the war did not start at the end of September, shootings are happening daily on the border, and the war resembles the one that her mum’s generation fought in the 1990s. And then she goes on, trying to explain to me the fear and frustration of not having news from friends in the conflict zone, and the relief and immense happiness when they finally call for a couple of minutes or they send a text saying they are okay. Or again, the pain she feels hearing that two of her brother’s classmates have been injured, the egoistic and comforting feeling of not reading familiar names in the list of deaths. “War makes you look at one life as less valuable than another. War makes you want the death of someone. I disgust myself, when I find myself being happy for the death of someone, but war puts you in a position where it is either you, your friends, your family or someone that is way more distant.” During the first days of the conflict, Elya could not even focus on her classes and readings, but now she is finding her way to cope with the idea of conflict. “Just like we got used to living with the virus, we got used to war: it doesn’t scare me anymore, it doesn’t shock me. It became part of my ordinary life. Also, I came to realise they [her classmates now in Nagorno Karabakh] wouldn’t want me to sit here and cry: they would want me to keep studying and living my life. Seeing how many people my age weren’t given the chance to accomplish their dreams, to love, to create put so much responsibility on my shoulders: I feel like I need to live my life at its fullest to show that their life was not sacrificed for nothing.” The message she left me with is clear: young generations want to end this endless war. And they want to end it forever: “We do not want our kids to fight this same war that our parents and grandparents had to fight.”
Lilith
Lilith is from Hrazdan, Kotayk region, close to the Armenian capital city Yerevan.
She has been living there for sixteen years, after having moved to India to complete her high school education, she has now come back to her hometown.
Just one day before shellings started to disrupt the precarious equilibrium in Nagorno Karabakh (Artsakh, in Armenian), she and her cousin were planning a trip to the region. No need to say, their plans were cancelled. Yet, when Lilith and her cousin woke up to the news of the attack, they could not imagine that the episode would have led to a war. Constantly checking their phones, both of them spent the day wondering if what happened was just a more intense expression of the usual violence on the border.
As the clashes intensified and it became clear that it was more than just an attack, the two nations mobilized to respond to the situation.
A war is not only about soldiers at the front: a whole population shares worries, fear and a sense of responsibility to contribute. Lilith decided to be involved by spreading awareness and advocating on social media. “Nowadays, war is happening on two platforms: in reality, with weapons, and on social media. We are in the position to use information and social media to fight for our part of this war”, she explains, emphasising how social media can be used to educate, but also to spread fake news. Having the goal of educating and guiding her followers in understanding the issue, she started to share articles and facts about the conflict, while contacting celebrities and influencers asking to share information to reach a broader audience. And eventually, Lilith realised that it was important to reach as many people as possible in the international community, in the most impactful way possible. Collaborating with a group of people interested in working on the project with her, they wrote a sample message that was then translated in almost 40 languages with the help of native speakers. Through her many international friends and followers, Lilith’s message was shared all over the world. Looking at the statistics of her posts, she quickly realised how translating the message in different languages was extremely powerful: her foreign friends could share it with their communities, and many more people could properly internalize her words. “My letter to the world in those various languages was very concise, telling: this is what's happening to me and to my country, please help me. And I got a lot of help. I think, in the times of extreme injustice and hardships humanity faces, no matter if you are being affected by the issue or not, you are responsible to fight your part by raising awareness, seeking help and voices and trying to contribute to the peaceful world we all imagine and wish to have one day.”
Vazgen
Vazgen, 17 years old, studies at NYU Shanghai, but at the moment he is talking to me from Vayk, his home town in Armenia. On September 27, his mum woke him up informing him of the attack, and Vazgen’s feelings about it quickly escalated. From an initial numb reaction of somebody who is used to hearing about such events happening in Nagorno Karabakh, he started to fear this attack, which turned out to be the biggest one since the 1994 ceasefire. The conflict with Azerbaijan over the region has been a constant during Vazgen’s lifetime, and year after year he developed a clear opinion on it: the right to the land belongs to those people who make it alive with culture, people, infrastructures, architecture. In Nagorno Karabakh, he explains, it seems like Azerbaijan did not give any input for the development of the ethnically Armenian region. And right now the question is not only about the land itself, but the people that live there. The biggest concern is that if Nagorno Karabakh loses its partial independence to Azeri control of the region, then the Armenian population there could be victims of human rights abuses. Moreover, he points out that great responsibility lies in the hands of the international community, that could help to end the conflict by recognising Artsakh as an independent region or as part of Armenia. But what if the war grows into a large scale and long term one? He opens my eyes on the crude reality that this is not a war fought by experienced soldiers, there are too many 18 years old boys scared for the future of their family and people on the frontline. “My friends are already fighting, I am supposed to do my army service next year. If this conflict doesn’t end, the question will be whether I’ll make it alive out of it or not. If this conflict doesn’t end, we might forget how it feels to live in a peaceful reality, without fearing an attack.” I ask Vazgen how he feels about going to the army. He does not hide he is scared, also because the environment of the army is extremely different from the diverse and tolerant community he lived in for two years in the international school he attended in Israel. Nevertheless, the change of environment is the last of its concerns at the moment: he is scared for its own existence and the one of his people. “Two years is a long time, and there is always a chance that they will call me [to the army service] earlier. Either way, the experience of war is not just a bad one, it is something that traumatizes you for life. Even if you make it out of it alive, you are going to have scars, a lot of them, and not only physical ones.”
Tamara
Tamara is a second-year student at the University of Oklahoma (OU), in the United States.
On September 27th, when she heard about the attack on the news, it was early in the morning. As many others, she initially thought it was just one of the parts breaking the cease-fire agreement, as it constantly happens. She called her mom: everything is okay, do not worry -she said. But throughout the day, the situation escalated quickly. Tamara and the other Armenians at OU decided to have dinner together to discuss what was happening: six young people, sitting in silence looking at each other, extremely confused about what was going on.
The following day were emotionally draining, spent between reading the news and the fear of finding a familiar name in the list of dead soldiers. Then imagine opening Facebook, finding your friends' texts as they are trying to reach out to let you know one of your friends died. Tamara checked the list of the names and yes, his name was there. She could not attend classes properly, that week, just like it happened to many other young Armenians: war does not just destroy buildings, it shatters people deeply and not just physically, dragging you into a vortex of multiple breakdowns and panic attacks. What makes it harder for Tamara is living so far away from her home country and her people in these difficult times, when most of her friends, including her best friend, are in the frontline fighting.
For her part, she is organizing an info-session with the OU Model UN Club, for the UN day. Student speakers from Armenia will facilitate a discussion about the situation, and introduce the audience to ways in which they can help. She is also collaborating with a couple of student organizations, trying to apply for funds, hold events and donate all the money collected to the Armenia fund.
“It seems like we are so far away and that we cannot do anything to help our people in Armenia, but that is not true! Raising awareness about the situation and donating are one of the first steps of being there and supporting them.”
The article does not intend to take any political stance on the issue. The stories collected aim to portray how young generations of Armenians are impacted by and responding to a conflict that sounds almost anachronistic in the XXI century. Acknowledging the one-sided opinion of the sources, the reader is encouraged to further research the topic and form their own opinion on the events, which are in constant evolution.
Here are some resources to start with:
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-54366616
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-54324772
https://www.politico.eu/article/the-nagorno-karabakh-conflict-explained-armenia-azerbaijan/
https://www.theguardian.comThe Armenia-Azerbaijan conflict explained – POLITICO/world/2020/sep/30/nagorno-karabakh-un-urges-ceasefire-as-azerbaijan-and-armenia-dismiss-talks
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-54356336
https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2020/10/1/infographic-military-arsenals-of-armenia-and-azerbaijan
https://www.cfr.org/global-conflict-tracker/conflict/nagorno-karabakh-conflict
