Birgün, April 22nd, 2005

Perhaps the most striking summary of what took place on April 24, 1915 can be found in the final words of Khajag,[1] one of the most renowned Armenian intellectuals of his time, spoken 90 years ago when he was about to be forced into exile: “They are taking me far away from here, my love…”

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The Armenian world is once again commemorating its forefathers. On the occasion of the 90th anniversary of the genocide, the eyes of the world have also, once again, turned towards the Armenian Issue. April 24, 1915 is the date when Armenian intellectuals, writers, artists, teachers, lawyers, doctors, clergymen and members of parliament, the great majority of them in Istanbul, were rounded up from their homes one by one and taken away. Most would never return.

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Of course, Turkey’s official historical discourse tells us a different story. It talks of deaths due to illness as people migrated towards secure zones. It lists the conditions of war, Armenians’ collaboration with the Russians, and it points to the Armenians who did eventually return to the country; thereby launching into a counter-argument on the basis of the number of dead. Yet, 90 years later, the essence of the matter is the search for a consensus on how to look at a historical problem that has a strong impact on the present.

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In nature, every living being sustains itself through the ties it establishes with its habitat. The Armenian people had built their culture and existence on the lands of Anatolia, their home for 4000 years. Thus, 1915 essentially became the year when the growth of this ancient culture was cut short, when the Armenian people were swept from their historical motherland and scattered in far-off, unknown places. It would go down in history as a milestone marking the point at which the relationship a people enjoyed with its habitat, with its roots, was severed.

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It is precisely for this reason that framing the events only within international legal terms can at times fall short. In view of the legal implications of the concept of ‘genocide’, Turkey today officially prefers to use the terms exile, migration or forced migration; but does this change the essence of what happened? Does the pain that was suffered become less of a crime against humanity when its name is changed? Had they been sent away in the most comfortable of circumstances, in aeroplanes made of gold, would it make this severance from the land to which they belonged any less tragic?

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The insistence and obstinacy regarding the use of the word ‘genocide’ in relation to what happened to the Armenian people, who after 1915 were scattered across all corners of the world, is closely connected to this search for roots. Moving beyond the preferred terminology used in Turkey —90 years on— for these events, it is precisely at this moment that there is a crucial need to ensure the freedom of expression and access to information that would pave the way for alternative sources and discourses regarding the historical facts, in order to establish a basis for dialogue with the Armenian world. Another crucial development would be the normalization of relations between Turkey and Armenia, two neighbouring countries whose borders remain closed, and the initiation of earnest efforts towards constructing their present in order to reach a point where they can talk about the past.

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Until now, I have always written in line with these fundamental principles in which I have absolute faith. In carrying my past on my shoulders, I have fought, side by side with the people of Turkey, for the establishment of a democratic country. I have always held the memory of the great human suffering of 1915 in all its bare reality, beyond concepts, propaganda, and discourse. Because for me, understanding history is about much more than studying law or documents; it is, in essence, an issue of conscience.

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So now, in an effort to appeal to our consciences, let us remember the words of Krikor Zohrab,[2] another intellectual, and a member of parliament. Let us take a look at the final letter written by this idealistic lawyer in 1915: “My love, my dearest, for us, the final curtain is about to fall. I can endure no longer. If I do not survive this, my final word of advice to my children is that they should always love each other, that they should worship you and never break your heart, and also, that they should remember me…”

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One day, on April 24 everyone in these lands will join together in remembrance of all these people and to wish peace upon their souls, and our shared pain will give rise to a multitude of joys. Not only will that day soothe the pain of the Armenian people, but it will also be the very democratization of Turkey itself.

[1] Born in 1867 in Gyumri, Karekin Khajag, also known as Karekin Chakalian, a newspaper editor and teacher, was arrested in Istanbul on April 24, 1915 —along with many other Armenian intellectuals, politicians and clergymen— exiled to Ayaş, and murdered.

[2] Born in 1861 in Istanbul, lawyer and writer Krikor Zohrab was a member of the Armenian National Parliament, and a three-term Member of the Ottoman Parliament representing Istanbul. He was arrested in 1915, sent into exile, and murdered, along with his friend and fellow member of parliament Vartkes Serengülian, on the outskirts of the city of Urfa.