The Uncelebrated, Nameless, Faceless Women of Armenia

Published in The Armenian Weekly and Asbarez

Last month Zimbabwe’s Co-minister for Reconciliation, Healing, and Integration, Sekai Holland, received the Sydney Peace Prize for a lifetime of campaigning for human rights and democracy and challenging violence.

Throughout her life, Holland has been at the forefront of many human rights issues, including the rights of Aboriginals in Australia, opposition to the apartheid system in South Africa, and perhaps most of all democracy and women’s rights in her native Zimbabwe. She has survived attempts on her life and has been tortured for her opposition to President Robert Mugabe’s oppressive policies, but she has been impossible to silence.

Elegant, composed, and with a presence that demands respect even if you’re only seeing her on television, Holland is the type of politician that makes you wish there were more like her in the world. And then, inevitably, you wonder: What if there were more politicians like that in Armenia? Women politicians, fighting for women’s rights, for broader human rights, for democracy.

Gender inequality is a serious issue affecting Armenia’s women today. The prevalence of traditional views and expectations of women as obedient subjects of their fathers, brothers, and husbands have not only hampered their empowerment, but also continue to allow for widespread, gender-based discrimination and even violence.

Gender-based domestic violence in Armenia has been an area of particular concern. In 2008, Amnesty International reported that national surveys taken in Armenia suggest more than a quarter of the country’s women have been subjected to physical violence at the hands of their husbands or other family members. One such nationwide study, conducted by the American University of Armenia’s (AUA) Turpanjian Center for Policy Analysis (TCPA) in 2007 found that nearly 66 percent of respondents experienced psychological abuse; 27 percent experienced acts of moderate physical abuse; and 12 percent experienced acts of severe physical abuse.

In 2010, the brutal murder of Zaruhi Petrosyan horrified many in Armenia and the diaspora, bringing to the surface the ugly truth of domestic violence in the country in a more powerful way than ever before. Yet, domestic violence is not the only form of gender-based violence existing in the country.

In more recent years, the selective abortion of female fetuses emerged as another dangerous practice discriminating against women, and one that carries long-term demographic consequences for a country already facing low fertility rates and high emigration. Armenia’s abnormally high rates of 114 male births to 100 female births (compared to the natural rate of 105 males for every 100 females) led the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe (PACE) to condemn the practice of selective abortions in the country in an October 2011 resolution. Analysts have explained this phenomenon in Armenia with reference to attitudes towards the role of women and the paramount importance given to bearing a son who can carry on the family’s name.

Traditional attitudes towards the role of women in Armenia have also proved a significant obstacle to their participation in the public sphere. The 2012 World Economic Forum “Global Gender Gap Report” ranked Armenia 92nd out of 135 countries with respect to gender gaps measured in four areas. Ironically, Armenia ranked 25th in educational attainment, but 76th in economic participation and opportunity, and 114th in political empowerment (all three rankings among 135 countries). These results speak volumes about the economic and political participation of Armenian women despite the relatively high level of education equality in the country.

Perhaps nowhere is the limited role of women in public life in Armenia more evident than in the area of politics. Only 2 of Armenia’s 18 ministries are currently headed by women (the ministries of diaspora and culture) and a mere 14 of the 131 members of the National Assembly are women. This, despite a 2007 amendment to the Armenian Electoral Code stipulating that women should account for 15 percent of a party or bloc’s list of candidates in the proportional component of the vote and that a woman should occupy every 10th place on the list.

Unfortunately, Armenian women’s attitudes towards their own rights can be a serious part of the problem. Sixty-one percent of respondents in AUA’s TCPA survey said that “a good wife always obeys her husband even if she disagrees,’’ and that it is important for a man to show his wife who is boss. Moreover, NGOs and activists working in the field of human rights in Armenia confirm that it is not uncommon for victims of domestic violence to believe they deserve to be subjected to such abuse or to stay silent.

The government of Armenia has taken some steps to address gender issues in the country. An example is the amendment to the electoral law to ensure higher participation of women in the National Assembly. It has put in place a Strategic Action Plan to Combat Gender-Based Violence in Armenia. Police training programs have been implemented to educate police on their responsibilities in responding to domestic violence. Work has also been underway for some time, particularly by civil society in Armenia, to introduce legislation criminalizing domestic violence.

More concerted effort is needed on the part of the government, however, to ensure more equal rights for Armenia’s women in practice. Women in Armenia must also learn to be advocates for their own rights rather than play the role of submissive, second-class citizens. Armenia’s women politicians are few but they are uniquely positioned to lead the fight for gender equality. As women occupying public office, they have first-hand experience in the challenges and pressures women face in their pursuit of a more active participation in public life. As politicians, they have unrivalled access to other decision-makers in the country and the platforms from which they can advocate better rights for and more positive attitudes towards women in Armenia.

In essence, respect for women’s rights is part and parcel of respect for broader human rights. Promoting a society where women are considered as equal and are provided with equal opportunities for economic and political participation is an important factor in promoting democracy in the country. Armenia’s women have the potential. They are well educated, they are resilient. They deserve the opportunity to leave their mark on the country’s and nation’s future and they must fight for it.

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The Diaspora must act as an agent for change in Armenia

Published in The Armenian Weekly
8 October 2012
By Houry Mayissian

The National Assembly of Armenia voted on Oct. 2 to remove former Foreign Affairs Minister and Prosperous Armenia MP Vartan Oskanian’s parliamentary immunity. Oskanian is being accused of money laundering in what is widely perceived to be a political move to impede his return to active politics.

Around the same time, activists from Armenia and the diaspora gathered in New York and then in San Francisco and Los Angeles for the Armenians and Progressive Politics (APP) Conference to discuss a range of issues from foreign policy, to civil society development and the rule of law in Armenia. While the presentations delivered at the conference are yet to be made public, there was a clear call from many of the speakers for the diaspora to be more active in the promotion of democracy in Armenia.

Ironically, the two events couldn’t have coincided better. Two decades on, the disconnect between independent Armenia’s realities and the diaspora’s understanding of these realities is striking.

In the past 21 years, entrenched Soviet legacies of corruption and a lack of respect for basic freedoms and fundamental rights have hindered the democratization of Armenia. A strategic alliance with Russia, a country that faces its own serious challenges when it comes to democracy, has not helped. Some have even argued that the lack of a peaceful resolution of the Nagorno-Karabagh conflict has allowed Armenia’s rulers to cling to power and derailed democratization.

While the challenges for democracy to take root in Armenia have been many, the agents for change have been few.

Some external powers have tried to fill this role, yet have been limited in their ability to drive true change. A case in point is the impact Armenia’s integration into various European structures has had on delivering internal change.

Armenia undertook formal obligations to adopt democratic reforms as part of its membership in the Council of Europe (since 2001), the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (since 1998), as well as cooperation with the European Union particularly under the European Neighborhood Policy starting in the mid 2000’s.

Successive Armenian governments embarked on a series of legislative reforms in the judicial, electoral, human rights, and fundamental freedoms spheres. Constitutional reforms were adopted, election laws were reformed and refined time and again, and legislation relating to freedom of assembly and media freedom, to name a few, were amended in cooperation with experts from these organizations.

In practice, however, legislative reforms have failed to translate into behavioral change. In what democratization experts call cost and benefit calculations by governments, the potential threat posed by putting these reforms into practice has surpassed any benefit that may come out of implementing behavioral change. In other words, when it comes to democratic reform triggered by external pressure, the ruling elites in Armenia have talked the talk but failed to walk the walk.

In recent years civil society and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) have emerged as potential change agents in Armenia. NGOs were quick to mushroom in Armenia following the disintegration of the Soviet Union. It has been argued that the Armenian NGO sector has been influenced by the availability of funds from donors who have not only played a role in shaping the issues raised but also the solutions proposed, often resulting in a mismatch with the local context (see Ishkhanian, A. Democracy Building and Civil Society in Post-Soviet Armenia, New York: Routledge, 2008).

While civil society in Armenia faces significant challenges, a number of civic initiatives have been able to rally and maintain enough popular support to register small successes. We have seen examples in the fields of environmental activism (for example, the “Save Teghut” initiative), domestic violence, and the protection of public spaces (the campaign against the demolition of Mashdots Park).

Some of these initiatives have also resonated with the diaspora. Such was the case of the anti-domestic violence initiatives organized in the U.S. following the murder of 20-year old Zaruhi Petrosyan, beaten to death by her husband. By and large, however, the diaspora’s involvement in Armenia’s democratization has remained minimal.

There needs to be a deeper understanding in the diaspora of the serious threats that corruption, the absence of rule of law and accountability, and persistent violations of human rights constitute to the long-term viability of the Armenian state. More than 20 years after Armenia’s independence, it is high time for the diaspora to open its eyes to these realities and reassess its role in bringing change to Armenia.

What can we in the diaspora do? To begin with, we need to start talking about the serious internal issues that threaten Armenia today. We need to start talking about them not in a way that feeds into already well-established stereotypes, but in a way that creates meaningful public discourse and seeks solutions.

Do we have a vision for Armenia? What is it? How do we get there? These are the questions we need to be asking ourselves today as individuals and communities. The imperative for internal reforms in Armenia must become a topic of mainstream concern and discussion in the diaspora if we are to find ways to affect positive change in the country.

The structures and processes by which the diaspora can influence the course of democracy in Armenia is a topic that warrants serious discussion and one we are yet to start. However, in trying to bring change to Armenia, the diaspora can find an important ally in civil society. A generation of young and motivated Armenians who want better for their country exists in Armenia today. Let’s reach out to them, learn from them, empower them. They may become the country’s next leaders.

Following the collapse of the Soviet Union and the emergence of an independent Armenia, the priority for the diaspora was to provide immediate relief to an impoverished country devastated by an earthquake and a protracted war. Now it is time for the diaspora to re-consider its priorities in Armenia and act as a much needed agent for change in the country.

Armenia at 21: A different type of reflection

As thoughts on Armenia 21 years after independence pour in from all parts of the world, for me the anniversary triggered a different type of reflection: a look at my very own journey with this 21 year old country.

My very first memory of any physical existence of Armenia is from years ago. I couldn’t have been more than 6 or 7. I’m talking late 80’s. I vaguely remember a drive to donate clothes either for the survivors of the earthquake or for Artsakh Armenians. I’m not too sure. And I remember giving away generously.

My memory fails me on the details. But this donation campaign is engraved in my mind as the first time I engaged in a tangible way with an otherwise abstract presence. I have come a long way on my Armenian journey since those days. If there is one thing true for both the child and adult, however, it is the feeling that I have an obligation towards this country.

I grew up attending an Armenian school in Lebanon, spending my spare time as an active badani. I knew my fedayee history inside out. At one point, I even wanted to become a film director when I grew up so I could produce a Hollywood blockbuster of Malkhas’ Zartonk. It would be viewed by millions of people and tell the world of the heroic deeds of Armenians fighting against oppression at the turn of the century.

However, when I was asked to contribute to a badani publication about the second Independence of the Republic of Armenia (sometime when I was 12-13), I was completely lost for words because I really did not know much. In the pre-Google era this meant I had to look at the magazines and papers available at home to try and find out some information about the topic. And finally, in one editorial, I came across a line that said the second Republic was born following a referendum (hanrakeve) by Armenians in favour of independence. It didn’t matter that at the time I didn’t know what a referendum meant; I could build the rest of the article by stressing the importance of freedom and independence for the Armenian nation.

Later as editor of the Hay Tad page at Aztag Daily I gained a deeper understanding of the issues surrounding the Armenian Genocide, worldwide recognition efforts, Armenian-Turkish relations and Nagorno Karabakh. I regularly wrote news and articles about these issues. From how US presidential candidates spoke about the Armenian Genocide to the propaganda of the infamous (Azerbaijani) ‘Karabakh Liberation Organisation’; you name it, I wrote about it.

My first visit to Armenia was in 2001 as part of a pan-Armenian youth jamboree. It was all about quenching that thirst familiar to all of us. I embraced the physical existence but avoided – unconsciously – the harsh realities it came with.

When during a discussion session on Armenia-Diaspora relations, a participant from Armenia declared that Diaspora Armenians are not really Armenian unless they chose to move to Armenia and help the country, it was a confronting moment. I was upset and offended. What did she know about my circumstances and my feelings for this country!

On this trip, there was magic too. The disgustingly big fly that managed to make its way into the room of the hanragetsaran I was staying in on my first ever night in Armenia wasn’t a source of disturbance. It too was Armenian!

It was when I was studying at the University of Oxford and researching my thesis on Armenia’s democratisation as part of its European integration that I was confronted with Armenia’s realities head on. I had chosen a topic where I didn’t have much positive to say about Armenia and a lot of negative. The thesis I was going to write was going to end up on the shelves of one of the most ancient and admired libraries of the world to stay there forever. Was it ok to criticise Armenia in this way? I struggled.

In retrospect, I am grateful for that eye-opening experience. As I read and wrote pages and pages on human rights, fundamental freedoms, elections and democracy in Armenia, the regulatory reforms standing in sharp contrast to the stubbornly persisting unacceptable practices, I came to understand and embrace a new Armenia. And this new Armenia was no longer only about the Genocide or Karabakh. Nor was it only about the clash of opinions or poverty. And it wasn’t about the magic. It was very much about the harsh realities of today.

As we celebrate Armenia’s independence, I think it is important that we also evaluate our own journeys with Armenia both at a personal and collective level. After all, it is people who make changes and if we’re unwilling or unable to see the problems, we are incapable of changing them.

My Armenian journey has come a long way but I know it still has a much longer way to go. Armenia is many things for me today. Its problems distress me, anger me, sadden me, sometimes even disillusion me. I know there is too much to be done. And I understand I need to do my bit as well.

But you know what? When, once in a while, I think of the view from the Cascade to which I was waking up every morning for two weeks earlier this summer; when I remember the vibrant buzz in the streets of Yerevan late every night; and when I think of Armenia’s golden apricots, I can still hear music. There is nothing wrong with magic once in a while.

Australia remains shamefully silent as Europe’s axe-murderer is deemed a hero

A security guard in an Afghan National Army uniform approached unsuspecting Australian soldiers as they relaxed at the end of another long day with the international security assistance mission in Oruzgan Province on August 30. He opened fire at close range, killing three Australian soldiers before fleeing. On the same day, two Australian privates died when their helicopter crashed while landing in a northern province of Afghanistan.

The death of five Australian soldiers in what became Australia’s worst combat losses in a single day since the Vietnam War shocked the nation.

As a manhunt started across Afghanistan for the rogue Afghan soldier responsible for the killings, the murderer of another nation’s soldier in a different part of the world was freed from prison and granted the status of national hero. Azeri soldier Ramil Safarov’s journey to ‘heroism’ started when one February night in 2004, he hacked to death Armenian soldier Gurgen Margarian while the latter was asleep. Both soldiers were participating in a NATO-sponsored English language course at a military academy in Budapest.

The back-drop to this murder was the Armenian-Azerbaijani war fought over the Armenian enclave of Nagorno Karabakh in the waning years of the Soviet Union. A cease fire in 1994 ended the war, with Armenia achieving control over the majority of Nagorno Karabakh. One of the bloodiest wars of recent times, it is estimated to have claimed the lives of some 20,000-30,000 people. Peace talks mediated by the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe’s (OSCE) Minsk Group have failed to establish a permanent solution to the conflict.

In April 2006, Safarov was sentenced to life imprisonment in Hungary after admitting to the murder of Margarian. Earlier this month, however, the Hungarian authorities extradited Safarov to Baku following assurances from the Azeri authorities that he would serve the rest of his sentence in Azerbaijan.

Not surprisingly, the axe murderer received a hero’s welcome upon his return to Azerbaijan. Within hours, he was pardoned by President Ilham Aliyev, promoted to the rank of Major, given an apartment and eight years’ worth of back salaries as compensation for the time he spent in jail.

The incident has shocked much of Europe. Armenia has officially severed ties with Hungary. Outraged crowds in both Armenia and Hungary have protested the actions of the Hungarian and Azeri governments. Similar protests have been carried out in front of Hungarian embassies in the United States, France, Belgium, Argentina, India and many other countries. In Australia, a protest was organised outside of the Hungarian embassy in Canberra on Friday, September 14.

In Hungary, Facebook groups condemning the government’s action and apologising to Armenia gained thousands of followers in just days. Local media speculated the deal was reached in return for an Azerbaijani promise to buy Hungarian state bonds – a claim both governments have denied.

The White House, the European Union, the Council of Europe, the OSCE, NATO and the foreign ministries of a number of countries including Russia and France have all condemned the axe-murderer’s elevation to the status of national hero. Australia remains silent on the issue.

The dangerous message the Azerbaijani government conveyed by its glorification of Safarov becomes even more pronounced when viewed in the context of Aliyev’s policies towards the conflict with Armenia.

In recent years senior Azerbaijani officials have maintained a dangerous war rhetoric regarding the Nagorno Karabakh conflict. In February, Aliyev described Armenians worldwide as Azerbaijan’s main enemies. Armenia cited this speech as it justified its decision to withdraw from the 2012 Eurovision song contest in Baku in May.

Boosted by its increasing oil revenues, Azerbaijan’s military spending has increased twenty-fold during Aliyev’s presidency, according to the International Crisis Group. Standing at $4.4billion in 2012, it exceeds the entire state budget of Armenia.

With a peaceful solution nowhere in sight, tensions in the region remain high. Skirmishes on the Armenian-Azerbaijani border since early 2011 have claimed 63 lives so far. The latest of these were in June 2012. The world can’t afford another war.

No country should be permitted to lord with impunity a convicted murderer who committed a hate crime based on ethnicity. Silence and failure to condemn are often perceived as a sign of encouragement by aggressors who may feel empowered to take things further.

“Think about other pathological, maniacal, murdering patriots who now think the door has been officially opened to kill other innocent people to become national heroes. With a new house and some money,” wrote Scary Azeri, a Qatar-based blogger, while urging her readers to think about the meaning of Safarov’s glorification for peace.

As a country mourning its own tragic loss, Australia is better positioned than any other power today to condemn Safarov’s release and glorification in the name of human rights and in the name of peace.

Beyond Stories of Survival

Published in The Armenian Weekly
19 August, 2012
By Houry Mayissian

Hatoun is sitting up still with her back against a tall palm tree, her head bowed as though she’s asleep. She has seated a doll she received as a present from an American aid worker up in the same position against another, smaller tree close by. She has torn the doll’s head off and placed it, face up next to its body.

Hatoun is one of the main characters in Chris Bohjalian’s recently released masterpiece on the Armenian Genocide, The Sandcastle Girls. Hatoun is a child of not more than 7 or 8. Hatoun is a survivor of the Armenian Genocide. And in this scene, Hatoun is re-enacting the murder, by decapitation, of her mother and older sister which she witnessed on the long march from Adana to Aleppo.

No scene in any other book has haunted me to this extent. And certainly, no other character I’ve come across has pierced through me with the same intensity. Ever since I came across it, this scene has taken a life of its own in my mind, epitomising the millions of untold stories of suffering, of trauma, of feelings experienced both by those who perished during the Genocide and those who survived.

I have reflected on this moment over and over in the past ten days since I put the book down. How did Genocide survivors deal with and try to overcome the trauma they had experienced? What did they feel on those marches, in the concentration camps, witnessing the brutal murder of family members, throughout the starvation, the deprivation, the humiliation? How were raped women and young girls ever able to love and have sex again? What type of parents did orphaned children manage to become? How did their experiences during the Genocide impact their day-to-day life as survivors?

I tried to recall stories about my own ancestors who had survived the Genocide in hope of remembering a habit, an incident, a characteristic, anything of theirs that would tell me something beyond their story of survival, beyond the chronology of how they ended up where they did.

I remembered that my maternal great grandmother, who suffered from advanced Alzheimer’s at old age, would stand in front of a mirror, stare at herself in horror and ask her grandchildren to give “this poor starving orphan” some bread and water. My great grandmother was a survivor of the Genocide, rescued by a Turkish man who adopted her somewhere along the march from Harput.

I recalled hearing about other survivors and their stories. A friend’s grandfather, also a Genocide survivor, would have an anxiety attack if ever he walked into the living room and saw there was no food on the table. There always had to be food on the table. The horror an Armenian American friend managed to inflict upon his grandmother while she babysat him one day, when he innocently opened the door to a stranger. After all, isn’t this how it started for many—with an unannounced visitor at the door?

I spoke with my parents, I spoke with my husband to try and dig out more memories that would help me understand how Genocide survivors dealt with their trauma—something we might have overlooked or forgotten. How did my husband’s grandfather, a survivor with a remarkable story that took him from Hassanbey to Australia, overcome seeing his father, along with all the other men in the city, rounded up in the city square, their beards set on fire until their bodies turned to ashes? Some of these stories we will never know.

I remembered Suzanne Khardalian’s “Grandma’s Tattoos” and the story of a grandmother as told through the eyes of her grandchildren: A woman rendered cold, distant, and strange after her experience being raped as a child while escaping the Genocide.

Too often when we’re busy advocating for Genocide recognition and fighting denial, are we prone to “forget’’ the names and faces behind the numbers. Too few are the survivor accounts that take us so deep into the psyche of the survivors themselves beyond the story, beyond the events, beyond the facts.

The Sandcastle Girls brought a forgotten or neglected aspect of the Genocide to life for me. It reminded me that our ancestors were not only stories of survival. They were flesh and blood, heart and soul, they felt, they hurt, they struggled, they loved, they lost and they loved again—they were.

Nalbandian on a cruise in Sydney

I don’t like criticising. I really don’t. I much rather focus on the positive I see in people and situations – however little that positive may be – with the hope that it multiplies. Unfortunately, the visit to Sydney by the Foreign Affairs Minister of Armenia this Sunday, as I saw it, bore almost no positive elements to it.

Minister Edward Nalbandian’s first official visit to Australia was initiated by an invitation by his Australian counterpart, Bob Carr. The visit was part of a four-country tour that also included Indonesia, New Zealand and will take him to the Philippines next. The official agenda for the visit included a meeting with Minister Carr in Canberra today. The Minister also set aside some of his free time on Sunday to meet with the Armenian community in Sydney.

The first encounter with the community was during lunch on a Sydney boat cruise, to which state and federal parliamentarians and ministers – long-time friends of the Armenian community – were invited along with community representatives. The second was a meeting open to all members of the community. Both events were organised by an individual from the community, whom the Ministry of Foreign Affairs had found appropriate to approach for this purpose, bypassing all community structures, including and foremost Archbishop Aghan Baliosian, Primate of the Diocese of the Armenian Church of Australia and New Zealand. The visit very much had the hallmarks of a private function than a proper community visit and the Foreign Affairs Minister could not have been further removed from the realities of the community.

As the cruise made its way through the choppy waters of Sydney harbour on this windy day, the Australian officials delivered welcoming addresses in honour of Nalbandian. All three speeches by Minister Victor Dominello, MP John Alexander and MP Jonathan O’Dea acknowledged the efforts of the Armenian Australian community aimed towards the recognition of the Armenian Genocide. Dominello expressed his hope that these efforts will culminate in the recognition of the Armenian Genocide at the federal level, while O’Dea confirmed that a delegation of NSW parliamentarians is planning to visit Armenia and Nagorno Karabakh next year. This generated quite a bit of excitement during the otherwise uneventful reception.

When Nalbandian took his turn, he spoke of Armenia’s plans to expand its presence in the region and emphasised the country’s commitment to establishing peaceful relations with all countries of the world – including two of its neighbours with which bilateral relations remain tense, Turkey and Azerbaijan. It was all very noble and I’m not being sarcastic. From thereon, however, everything went downhill.

With respect to Nagorno Karabakh, Nalbandian maintained that Armenia was committed to a peaceful resolution of the conflict based on the principles offered by the OSCE Minsk Group Co-Chairs and accepted by the international community, while failing to even mention the right to self-determination as the main principle to which Armenia adheres for a resolution of the conflict. Listening to Nalbandian’s speech was the first Australian parliamentarian to visit Nagorno Karabakh, Walt Secord, who also lent his support for the right of the people of Karabakh to self-determination while in Stepanakert late last year…

Remarkably, Nalbandian also managed to go through his whole speech without once uttering the words Armenian Genocide even as he spoke about the Armenia-Turkey protocols and Turkey’s failure to ratify them without preconditions.

Nalbandian did affirm both of the above-mentioned positions in his speech during the meeting with the broader community later that day. The moment, however, had passed and while it was lost on some, many of us understood that the Minister chose to pass on a perfectly good opportunity to reiterate these positions in front of Australian parliamentarians and ministers who themselves have stood up in parliament to acknowledge the Armenian Genocide and support the right of the people of Nagorno Karabakh to self-determination.

Today, Minister Nalbandian was due to meet with Carr in Canberra. It was during Carr’s tenure as premier of NSW that the state parliament passed a motion recognising the Armenian Genocide. Whether Nalbandian used the occasion to press him on this issue today is not known (not yet at least) but perhaps what he chose to say and not say yesterday was an omen for what was to come.

There had been much speculation in the lead-up to the visit about the possible establishment of an Armenian Embassy in Australia. The Minister put our minds ‘at ease’ on this one too, announcing that the Republic of Armenia would be opening two embassies next year – one in Jakarta, one in Vietnam but not one in Canberra. Meanwhile, the 50,000 or so Armenians living in Australia – where in the absence of frequent and tangible links with Armenia, staying Armenian is a day-to-day struggle – were told to not feel neglected but also to not expect an embassy in 2013 or 2014 for that matter. The best the Minister could deliver was a pledge for an embassy at some point in the future, possibly 2015, and maybe an Honorary Consul at a sooner but yet unspecified date.

Having seen Nalbandian on TV, I had an impression of him as someone who was brought in to do the job few other people would do. In real life, my encounter with the man who signed the most important documents of the Republic of Armenia in its 20 years of independence, painted the picture of someone unable to persuade, impress or inspire. It saddens me to be so painfully honest about the person who occupies the position of Foreign Affairs Minister of our independent Republic, when I have enormous respect for the position itself and all that it represents.

No matter, the harsh reality remains that when all was said and done, Nalbandian’s visit delivered too little too late for this community.

A taxi ride in Yerevan and the journey it took me on

As a tourist in Yerevan, one of the most interesting ways to get a feel for the country is to chat with taxi drivers. You will quickly discover that many are former professionals, often holders of tertiary education, men who have out survived communism, lived through unspeakable poverty, witnessed war and earthquake and are now grappling with the ‘’new’’ order in their country.

“I love Armenia, of course I do. Our land, our water, it’s ours. However, there are no jobs. We can’t provide for our families,” tells me this taxi driver while driving me from Tigran Medz to Northern Avenue just last month.

“Did you vote in the recent elections?” I ask.

“I did. I did not want to ‘sell’ my vote,” he replies with a sense of dignity underlying the frustration in his voice – the dignity of a man who has lost but is proud for having done the right thing.

“Surely, the people have a role to play in changing the current state of affairs,” I say.

“The problem, kuro jan, is that the entire country is left in the hands of a few. The people’s main struggle is to survive, make some money, find a job and often they are left with no choice but to leave.”

After this bitter sweet encounter with this stranger and his all too familiar story, I am content with the feelings he harbours for our country; but the haste with which he dismissed the notion that citizens like himself are capable of changing things for the better remains ingrained in my mind.

And then it all comes screaming back to me. Previous trips, other strangers, similar conversations. The former airport personnel now taxi driver who had so little belief in brighter prospects for himself that he was full of rage– not just for being Armenian but, it seemed at the time, for being in general. That was one scary taxi ride in 2009.

Then, the once Karabakh freedom fighter (as he claimed) turned taxi driver, whose disillusionment with everything he had once put his life on the line for was so draining I was counting the seconds to jump out of the car. Back in 2007, I didn’t know whether I should think of this man as a hero or just another unhappy person in Yerevan. I still don’t.

And the words – “this is how it is; this is how it will always be. It won’t change” – which I have heard numerous times from relatives and other acquaintances in Armenia, they come screaming back too. And it strikes me.

The majority of Armenians living in Armenia today seem to suffer from an inherent lack of faith in their own power, their own ability to make things better for themselves in their own country. Perhaps I am stating the obvious. But then again, the obvious sometimes needs to be stated.

In my last blog, I wrote that change has started in Armenia and that change is impossible to stop. It generated more interest than I expected. When one friend shared it on her Facebook, one of her friends commented: “Are we talking about an Armenian Spring?”

Many will disagree, but in all honesty I believe the world has seen enough “springs” and “colour revolutions” to understand that often they fail to bring long-term benefit to people. Some will maybe even falsely accuse me of trying to defend the status quo. They can’t be further from the truth.

I believe meaningful, long-term, sustainable change – change in the right direction, towards a democratic and just Armenia – can only be achieved through behavioural change both at the individual and national level. To achieve change in Armenia its citizens must learn to believe in their own ability to do so. To have faith in themselves, they must understand they have rights. And of course, they must be the change they want to see.

Armenian activists both in Armenia and the Diaspora have a unique opportunity and obligation today – to educate Armenia’s citizens about their rights, to set examples, to transform viewpoints, to set expectations – higher, better, more ambitious.

They say old habits die hard and it would be naïve to assume that the values many of us espouse as young Armenians – those of democracy, human rights and justice – are the values upheld by the majority of Armenian society today. To democratise Armenia as a country, we must first democratise Armenia as a society.

Change is inevitable. What is important, however, is to make sure we do it the right way, for the right results.