Armenians tend to be passionate and even intense people. Expressing an opinion can be so filled with emotion that a casual observer could mistake it for an argument. Holiday dinner tables are filled with concurrent discussions at a compounded decibel that requires ear protection. Most of the time we are serious in our deliberations, indicative of the strong individual convictions that seem to be an integral part of our cultural DNA. Many of us overstate the downside of this trait, in that it can lead to arguments, communal dysfunction and unproductive activity. We also undervalue it as an admirable trait. It reflects commitment, determination and advocacy. Given our history of turmoil and oppression, the absence of this attribute would have led to our demise as a civilization centuries ago. We survive and even thrive by refusing to accept perceived or popular realities. This has been a hallmark of our behavior.
We are a people with dark clouds that hover over our lives. Given our experience with tragedy, it is difficult not to be serious when it comes to our nation’s rights. Advocating for the interests of Armenians requires managing our emotions and energy for the long term. We all become marathoners and not sprinters. The sprinters in our causes fall by the wayside in disappointment.
Most ethnic groups celebrate their existence through their culture. We also do that — we dance, love our art, cherish our language and advance our intellect — but there is always a serious overtone given the unresolved injustices from the 1915 Genocide through the most recent unpunished crimes in Artsakh. For those who choose the patriotic path of advocating for justice, it is a difficult and sometimes lonely journey with no guarantees of redemption in our lifetime. It becomes a reason to be. I worry for all of us who become so serious that we develop a thick crust that limits our ability to find peace and comprehend justice on this earth. The refusal of the Turks to accept responsibility for their crimes has created bitterness and generational hatred. When we talk of genocide and unpunished crimes, we are serious and single minded. It is a difficult juxtaposition for Armenians.
Moving on from the Genocide will allow us to live in peace and grow our culture, but the “promise” in our souls will not allow us to forget in the absence of justice. The promise is not only to our grandparents and our children, but to ourselves and all of humanity. It is not simply the Genocide but our love for Armenia and its existence. Armenia is our homeland and is threatened by the Turkish descendants of those who sought our destruction 100 years ago. The emergence of an independent Armenia in 1991 was the fulfillment of our collective dreams and prayers.
Living in the diaspora, we do what we can to support Armenia, but the distance leaves us to worry about its security from external threats. One of the reasons why my wife and I have worked with a border village since 2018 is to contribute in some small way to the security of the nation by strengthening and improving the quality of life in our border communities. Serious work, yes, but in this village we have found the joy of laughter, friendship and culture. Even though the village is literally a few kilometers from the Azerbaijani border (Nakhichevan), we feel at peace in the essence of Armenian life. I believe finding balance and happiness in Armenia is the answer for diaspora Armenians who are suffering from the “serious syndrome.”
Raised in the Armenian community, I learned about seriousness and sadness at an early age. When I was a youngster in Sunday School, we only attended Badarak at the end of the service because of the timing of our classes. The portion we attended was usually the “hokehankist” or requiem. Watching older women cry was startling, and initially I felt averse to attending. Of course that was not an option as far as my parents were concerned, but nevertheless the perception was my reality. When I learned in Sunday School that Badarak was a “celebration” of our Lord and designed to “praise” Him, I was puzzled. To a 10-year-old, it didn’t seem like much of a celebration, with people whispering to me to be quiet as older ladies cried. Thankfully, our methods of education have improved, and my own knowledge has increased, but at the time it felt so serious.
During my AYF days, I attended many conventions. A few were pivotal in creating political action programs for the AYF. When it was time for the convention picture of the delegates, most of those photographed appeared stone-faced. I recall one delegate saying, “Don’t smile…we have nothing to be happy about until Armenia is free.” Thinking back, the intention was noble, but the practice was flawed. While the aim is to be professional and results-oriented in our work, a serious overtone does not necessarily lead to that outcome.
Genocide commemorations bring out interesting behaviors in our community. During the 100th anniversary, we observed record crowds and participation. One year later when it was time for the 101st, the crowds were a fraction and the energy was similar to the morning after a party. Why are we driven by numbers? Many Armenians participate in these commemorations with “serious” behavior and full of demands yet are nowhere to be found for important advocacy work two weeks later. It is almost like our people are stricken with a “check the box” guilt complex. Given the choice, a few hundred activists sustained through the years is far more desirable and effective than a few thousand for a “one and done” event.
This brings to mind our interpretation of what it means to be serious. In its most effective form, it is much more than a stoic appearance. A serious person or campaign is thoughtful, earnest and sustained. It is not short term, superficial or meant to cast a veneer. It means we understand the objective and are able to put it in the correct context. Going to Armenia has helped me understand how to put our serious work in context. The goal has always been to take on the difficult work and find joy rather than frustration. If you view advocacy work as short term, you will not be fulfilled.
The people of Armenia have a great number of challenges to be serious about, yet they often discover the balance of happiness. In many ways, they remind me of my grandparents from the survivor generation who were candidates for the PTSD label. Our society had not advanced to that level, and their generation was happy to survive. We all recall them as loving and nurturing in their character, focused on building for the next generation as their contribution. They carried the burden of their losses yet only displayed kindness toward others. They found the balance between seeking justice and living for another day. They could have spent their time mired in negativity, but they had a brighter vision. Their redemption was to support a new generation prepared to take on the challenges of survival in the diaspora.
Let us focus on the serious challenges with vigor and strength knowing that the real joy is the survival and prosperity of our civilization. It is the reason for seeking justice and advocating for all aspects of our culture.
The people of Armenia understand that family, work ethic and love can deliver more than excessive materialism. Improving the quality of their lives is important, but they find contentment more often than not. How else can you explain the extraordinary hospitality to virtual strangers when often they struggle for their basic needs? Improving the lives of people with such depth is not only a joy but often returns more than is given. Ask the people of the Paros Foundation about their very serious work and the emotional joy of its results. None of us are putting our lives at risk advocating for Armenia in the diaspora. We live in the general comfort of our communities. We may become exhausted and frustrated, but our safety is secure. I admire people who assist those on the edge of safety and only seek their recovery. Let’s talk about the Women’s Support Center, founded by activist Maro Matosian, that led the way in the murky waters of advocacy for domestic violence survivors. They save lives every day and provide recovery mechanisms for women and their children. It is very serious work, yet there is no greater moment than when happiness and laughter return to the victims’ lives.
In the diaspora, we must do our utmost to avoid “toe-dipping” activism, when our commitment is shallow and sustainability is in question. Let us focus on the serious challenges with vigor and strength knowing that the real joy is the survival and prosperity of our civilization. It is the reason for seeking justice and advocating for all aspects of our culture. It is not about revenge but the continuance of our beloved culture and existence. Each generation contributes to that struggle. Each seeks to find the balance that delivers peace. The leaders of the First Republic had to live through its demise, but they built the territorial basis for today’s Armenia. Look for the silver linings in your work.They exist and are waiting to be discovered.
Stepan Piligian
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A genuinely articulate, insightful, and thought-provoking article that beautifully reminds us all to better leverage our inherent strengths to do more on behalf of our Armenian brethren. Thank you, Stepan.