Armenian Genocide Literature

[MJ]

That other genocide

By Ronie Parciack

 

Ha'aretz

Friday, February 21, 2003

 

Unbelievable horror: the Turkish massacre of the Armenians.

 

"Mishnei Evreha Shel Makhloket Beinleumit" by Taner Akcam,

translated into Hebrew by Erga Heller with an introduction by Yair

Oron, Babel, 167 pages, NIS 53 (English edition: "Across an

International Divide: Essays Toward a Turkish-Armenian Dialogue,"

Zoryan Institute, 2001, 101 pages)

 

Let it be said loud and clear: This book is an event, and on more

levels than one. It tells the story of the historical atrocity

perpetrated by the Turks against the Armenians and seeks to pull the

veil off what has become a forgotten genocide - what Yair Oron, in his

introduction, calls the "pact of forgetfulness," and Taner Akcam calls

"collective amnesia." But that is not all. The book goes beyond the

Turkish-Armenian conflict to touch on some of the basic premises of

Israeli culture. It reexamines and questions these premises, and at

the same time, attempts to awaken historical awareness - and morality -

from their slumber.

 

In effect, the Hebrew edition of "Across an International Divide"

is composed of two complementary parts: One is a collection of brief

essays by the human rights activist and academic scholar Taner Akcam

that addresses the Ottoman government's genocide of the Armenians

in World War I and analyzes why it is difficult but imperative to

implement Turkish-Armenian dialogue; and the other is a comprehensive

introduction by Yair Oron.

 

Although the title of the book refers to Akcam's essays, structurally

they are really secondary to Oron's contribution. The division is not

just a formal one. While Oron offers a sweeping historical introduction

that makes Akcam's work more accessible, it is much more than a crutch

for readers who are not sufficiently acquainted with the historical

particulars. His work serves as a cultural anchor and an impetus for

getting Israeli readers to look at basic concepts in their culture

and achieve insights about their own nation and its relationship with

other peoples - past and present.

 

But first, a word on the main animus of this book - the Armenian

genocide. In effect, two histories unfold in the work of Oron and

Akcam. One is a horrifying, blow-by blow account of what happened

in those years - 1915-1917 - that the world has tried so hard to

block out.

 

Here are some of the facts presented by Oron: More than half the

population of the Ottoman Armenian empire was wiped out (with the

assumption being that there were 2-2.5 million Armenians at the

time), and the rest were forced to leave the historic homeland where

their ancestors had lived for nearly 3,000 years. The killings and

deportations were carried out by the sovereign government of Ottoman

Turkey as the diplomatic representatives of its allies - Germany and

Austro-Hungary - looked on.

 

Hidden, haunting history

 

These horrors, only a tip of the iceberg, lay the groundwork for what

came next: a hidden history that haunts the present and unconsciously

determines it - a history of silence and denial. In this book, several

channels of denial are laid bare: the constant haze surrounding the

actuality of the event, the official government claim that there was

no deliberate policy to exterminate the Armenians, the relatively

limited international recognition of Armenian genocide and, on the

other hand, the erasure of all memory of the Armenians and Armenian

history in Turkey today. Who knows, for instance, that Anatolia was

once called the Armenian highlands?

 

Beyond the disclosure itself, the book dwells at length on the

implications of this repression. One of the leading arguments is that

"the absence of real dialogue between the Turks and the Armenians,

of open discussion about genocide and recognition that it took

place, are genuine obstacles in the democratization process of

Turkish society." The issue is a sensitive one that supersedes the

psychological and pragmatic concerns of the Turkish nation (demands for

compensation, territorial compromise, being voted out of the European

Union, etc.), and touches on the roots of the debate on nationalism -

or, to be more precise, the roots of the uniqueness and exclusivity

upon which national identity is built.

 

Akcam brings the pain of a national trauma as an example: "Pain is the

most powerful element of collective memory. That is why it is very

easy for the nation state to structure its history around the theme

of collective pain and remembrance. Whenever one attempts to rewrite

history based on this collective memory, it is almost necessary to

omit other nations and redefine them as the other."

 

In other words, building up nationalism is accomplished by the

symbolic division of the world into "self" and "other," a division

that stands out all the more in traumatic historical contexts. Views

that are perceived as threatening the symbolic borders and self-images

that unify and protect the nation are rejected out of hand, thereby

destroying the basis for any coexistence of history and the other,

i.e., the pluralism which serves as the bedrock of democracy.

 

Democracy depends on the concurrence of different narratives, and that

is what makes recognition of the Armenian genocide so imperative. As

Akcam puts it: "Instead of imagining the same period according to the

needs of the nation state and instead of writing it as the histories

of two rival nations, is it not possible to reread the history of

1915-1917 with a common historical perspective?"

 

Moral validity

 

In a broader sense, this brings us to fundamental questions that

lie at the very core of Israeliness - and that is where Oron's essay

comes in. Considering the solidarity that would seem to be par for

the course between peoples who have undergone systematic genocide, and

considering the centrality of the Holocaust in Israeli discourse, one

might expect the Armenian genocide to have real resonance in Israeli

culture. Surprisingly, however, the State of Israel has consistently

ignored it. Representatives of the state do not participate in

memorials held by the Armenians every year on April 24; the subject is

rarely broached in public; TV documentaries exploring this topic have

been kept off the air; and very few books have been published (one

exception being Franz Werfel's novel "The Forty Days of Musa Dag").

 

What explanation can there be for Israel turning a blind eye to the

trauma of the Armenians? Is it connected to the unique status of the

Holocaust and the way this event colors Israeli nationalism, with

its inherent sense of victimhood? In what way does this "handcuff"

Israel? Does it also radiate to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and

its trauma?

 

Writing with skill and the sensitivity of a person who knows something

about national trauma and the weight attached to them by his readers,

Oron makes a strong and broadly argued case that assumes even more

moral validity by being published now.

 

At a time when the voice of the intellectuals has grown inaudible and

weak, when national crisis has led, understandably, to a mad dash

toward the protective shield of consensus, which only intensifies

the preoccupation with nationalism, the publication of this book in

its current format is a courageous political act - or better still,

an act of true intellectualism.

 

Ronie Parciack is studying for her Ph.D. in philosophy at Tel Aviv

University.