Each time I return from Western Armenia, the reaction I get from family and friends is the same: Why? Why do I subject myself to the emotionally draining experience of viewing first-hand the destruction of Armenian cultural heritage? Viewing my pictures only deepens their conviction that they could not make such a trip.
Armenian monastery in Moks near Van. (Photo by George Aghjayan)
Beyond the emotional strain, many Armenians view traveling to Western Armenia as counter to our national interests. One argument is that such travel by Armenians contributes to the Turkish tourism industry. Another argument against documenting the remaining evidence of Armenian heritage is that it exposes these structures to further destruction. Lastly, many will never feel secure traveling to the region as long as it is part of Turkey.
It is not my intent to dispel these reasons as unjustified. Quite honestly, travel to Western Armenia is not for everyone. However, I think it is important to explain why I, personally, have made this journey a number of times over the past three years.
The first reason is rather clear. I spend significant time researching and documenting the previously Armenian villages of Western Armenia. Many of the names of the villages have been changed and a large number of villages no longer exist. There is only so much research that can be done through books and other sources; field research is a critical component. The history of the villages as well as the significant Armenian structures that remain are retained by the local population. Oftentimes, it is the only way to verify the location as well as the current state of these monuments.
On a recent trip, we were in a village just on the other side of a hill from the Armenian monastery we were looking for. We asked a local child where the Armenian church was, but he didn’t know what we were talking about. Finally, he said, “You mean where the gold is?” Time and time again, in every location, there is evidence of the treasure-seekers that operated with total disregard for the damage they inflicted on the structures. This is not a new phenomenon; it has been going on for centuries on these lands. Today, it is in search of Armenian gold. A hundred years ago it was in search of Hittite, Assyrian, and Urartuan gold.
Where exactly do they think the Armenians got all this gold and other wealth? The villages have not changed in 100 years, and all of the resources available to Armenians then are still available in the villages today. It is not as if the Armenians had a gold mine. The gold the locals search for does not exist. The small amount of wealth that industrious Armenians were able to miraculously accumulate has long since disappeared. I do have one hope, though: that each church and monastery had important records and that, one day, some of these lost treasures will be found in the homes of villagers and returned to their rightful owners.
Some will point to these few examples as evidence that traveling to Armenian monasteries and churches only promotes the notion that treasure is buried there. This impression is further strengthened when traveling with detailed maps, as I do. Yet, for over 60 years, very few Armenians ever traveled to Western Armenia, and it is not as if Armenian monuments were all preserved during those years. Quite the contrary, hundreds of churches, schools, and monasteries were destroyed during those years without witnesses.
Yes, the destruction continues unabated, but by traveling year after year, the destruction can be documented and exposed. Exposing it has raised awareness in important circles. It is yet to be seen if that will yield positive results. However, ignoring the destruction has not stopped it. That is undeniable.
Recently, I read two exceptional articles, one by Varak Ketsemanian (“Dersim: A Facet of the Silent Revolution in Turkey”) and the other by Raffi Bedrosyan (“Remembering the Dead and Living Victims of the Armenian Genocide”). Both touched on another important aspect of traveling to Western Armenia—the Armenians who still remain on that land.
There are many things that have changed over the past decade in Turkey: the murder of Hrant Dink, the publication of Fethiye Çetin’s book My Grandmother, the reopening of Surp Giragos church in Diyarbakir. Each of these events, and others, have contributed to an awakening of “Armenianness” on our ancestral lands. Maybe it is not so much an awakening as it is allowing a presence that never ended to once again assert itself.
While the movement is still small—almost unnoticeable to most—it is growing and our continued presence on the land is an important component to process. Personally, it is very rewarding for me to meet those that have retained their connection to Armenians through the decades since the genocide. In fact, I view this as just one component of the demographic crisis Armenians face. There is the exodus from the Republic of Armenia, the turmoil in important diasporan communities (Iraq, Syria, and Lebanon), the assimilation of Armenians in the diaspora, and the “hidden” and assimilated thousands in Western Armenia. We cannot ignore any one of these.
Finally, related to this last point, there is the mantra of a free, independent, and united Armenia. I believe this to be an achievable goal. It is one thing to not believe it to be possible, it is another to believe yet have no plan to achieve it. For me, the way is clear: For the Armenian presence to truly return to our lands, it is critical to assimilate back into Armenian culture the thousands that still live on the land. They are thirsting for it!
If we remain absent, think of the message that is sent to the government in Turkey and the people on the ground. I go because it is important for me to show that even though I was born in the diaspora, of diasporan parents, after 100 years I am still tied to that land. I cannot be separated from it!
When I step foot on the land, see the mountains, drink the water…I feel my blood is from the soil and my ancestors are calling.