There is excellent material on the Armenian resistance in the local languages of the region—Armenian, Azerbaijani, and Russian—and a ton of garbage. To date, nobody who speaks all three languages fluently has written a comprehensive history of the conflict. The premier book, littering syllabi across the world, is written by a British journalist who speaks Russian. It is not terrible—the man knows things, he spoke to real people on the ground—but it shouldn’t even be twentieth on our lists. There is one by an Armenian journalist who speaks at least two and a half of the languages fluently. He is excellent, but when was the last time he was allowed to be in Azerbaijan, how good of a historian is he, and when is he going to stop denying the Khojaly massacre? The epistemological problem here runs deep. It would be a massive undertaking to get all the important sources from all the sides. Kind of impossible, actually: who is going to get access to the archives of Armenia, Azerbaijan, and Russia?

The Armenians of Nagorno-Karabakh under Azerbaijani blockade

-- By ArmanAntonyan - 16 Feb 2023

Why Armenians are starving right now in the most polarized conflict in the world

For 2 months now, the Armenians of Nagorno-Karabakh have been under blockade by Azerbaijan, which has stationed government agents along the Lachin Corridor to cut the Armenians off from the rest of the world. What does that sentence mean to you? If you’re Armenian, Azerbaijani, or friends with someone of those two peoples, you might know what I’m referring to. If you have a certain interest in foreign policy or international affairs, you may know what those circles tell you. I question those circles and their unspoken premises, the “international order” they would like to maintain, and the smug view from above. What can an expert on “Eurasia,” the “post-Soviet space,”or the “Caucasus” tell me? I want to try to bring things to basics.

When we distill the current crisis to its human aspect, it is kind of simple. Right now, the 120,000 Armenians who live in Nagorno-Karabakh are cut off from the rest of the world by Azerbaijan. Azerbaijan has blocked its single road to the world—the Lachin Corridor. Food and medical supplies, delivered sparingly by the Red Cross and Russia, have to be rationed in Nagorno-Karabakh. The Azerbaijani government, who wants sovereignty over the local Armenians, really wants them to leave. They cut off the gas, fuel, and electricity intermittently. I’m not being fully honest about the blockade. The road is open in one direction—out of Karabakh. Azerbaijan will let Armenians leave, but does not want them to stay.

Nagorno-Karabakh is a region that was part of Soviet Azerbaijan and declared its independence during the fall of the Soviet Union. Its Armenians never wanted to be a part of Azerbaijan; they were violently forced to join it in 1921. During Soviet liberalization, when the region’s Armenians saw a chance, they rallied to be joined to Soviet Armenia, and then fought for their independence. Soviet Azerbaijan pursued pogroms and other repressions against them, sometimes with the help of Moscow. But the Armenians persisted, fighting to create a country they call the Artsakh Republic, establishing self-governance even if the world wouldn’t recognize it. The world does not like when borders are changed. Except when the US wants to create the Republic of Kosovo. The Armenians of the Artsakh Republic are now paying the price for resistance 30 years later. A renewed invasion in 2020 saw Azerbaijan conquer and ethnically cleanse much of the land. The land where Armenians still stand is being protected halfheartedly by Russia, which is allied to both Armenia and Azerbaijan, and which is busy invading Ukraine.

I am convinced this is the most polarized conflict in the world. Today, no ethnic Armenian can enter Azerbaijan—I, a US citizen with an Armenian name, would be refused access to Azerbaijan. Azerbaijanis can visit Armenia on paper, but they wouldn’t. Today, no Armenian would accept Azerbaijani sovereignty. No Azerbaijani would accept Armenian sovereignty. In the ‘90s, every time Armenians seized a village, Azerbaijanis were forced out, and vice versa. In 2020, only Armenians were kicked out of their homes. The few who stayed behind were mostly killed. One or two were used for Azerbaijani propaganda. Even for violent conflict, this is not normal. Palestinians work in Israel. Ukrainians can still live under Russian occupation. Serbians have communities in Kosovo. After 2020, Azerbaijan created a war trophy park in its capital, featuring helmets of dead Armenian soldiers and racist wax mannequins of Armenian troops.

Trying and failing to understand the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict

Distilling this conflict for the onlooker is a ritual I and many Armenians have engaged in for years. It is the least an Armenian living safely in diaspora can do. Unlike the Armenians back home, we don’t have to get shelled or conscript our children, so we have to say something. I don’t mind. Lately I question the value of awareness, though. If I could get published by the New York Times, Le Monde, or the State Department tomorrow, what would I say, and what would it matter? It is extremely difficult to research the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. Trying to read the news will leave you more confused. Right now, Azerbaijan claims that the agents it has stationed to starve Armenians are “eco-activists” protesting illegal mining activities or something—they’ve changed the narrative a few times. Now that Azerbaijan said it, the news media has to report it. Azerbaijan benefits from obfuscating the news because it is more powerful than Armenia. And what does the news media really know, anyway? Most of them do not have a presence on the ground. Not in Nagorno-Karabakh, where Russia and Azerbaijan prevent foreign journalists’ access. Especially not where 18 year-old conscripts are getting killed. The media can tell you that the United States condemns the blockade of Nagorno-Karabakh. Not that much more. The epistemological problem here runs deep. But more fundamentally, for most people—through no fault of their own—this entire conflict is an abstraction. Too many syllables and too far away. I can’t say I’m any better about the rest of the world.

There is excellent material on the Armenian resistance in the native languages of the region—Armenian, Azerbaijani, and Russian (the lingua franca)—and a ton of garbage. To date, nobody who speaks all three languages fluently has written a comprehensive history of the conflict. The premier book, littering syllabi across the world, is written by a British journalist who speaks Russian. It is not terrible—the man knows things, he spoke to real people on the ground—but it shouldn’t even be twentieth on our lists. There is one by an Armenian journalist who speaks at least two and a half of the languages fluently. He is excellent, but when was the last time he was allowed to be in Azerbaijan, how good of a historian is he, and when is he going to stop denying the Khojaly massacre? The epistemological problem here runs deep. It would be a massive undertaking to get all the important sources from all the sides. Kind of impossible, actually: who is going to get access to the archives of Armenia, Azerbaijan, and Russia?

• #Set ALLOWTOPICVIEW = TWikiAdminGroup, ArmanAntonyan
• #Set DENYTOPICVIEW = TWikiGuest

Note: TWiki has strict formatting rules for preference declarations. Make sure you preserve the three spaces, asterisk, and extra space at the beginning of these lines. If you wish to give access to any other users simply add them to the comma separated ALLOWTOPICVIEW list.