Maria Titizian
They speak a different language. Their engagement with one another and
the world has a different rhythm and voice. They are globally mobile,
technologically advanced and brave of heart and conviction. Their heroes
and mentors come from the past but their vision is rooted in
possibility. They ask the important questions, they use their logic and
rationale but their actions are informed by an explicit sense of
belonging and ownership. They are cognizant of the deficits yet refuse
to be shattered by them. They are intuitive and brilliant beyond the
stretches of our tired and worn down imaginations. They see the world
through their own sense of time and space. And while I secretly fear
that their fearlessness highlights my own obsolescence, I am awed by
their mettle. They are the independence generation.
For them, Armenia was always independent. It was always theirs to
claim or denounce and more often than not they claimed her. I’m sure
they have their specific hang ups with what it means to be an Armenian
on foreign lands, about how they can find their voice within staid
communities who are often times failing them or with a leadership in
Armenia that disappoints at every opportunity.
While they are not faultless, they certainly do inspire. From young
Diaspora Armenians dismantling stereotypes and false perceptions to
local Armenians trying to make changes that will somehow matter, they
are unknowingly making us sit up and listen.
What is fascinating for those of us on the sidelines watching their
tentative, sometimes bold and sometimes unconventional steps is that
they are keenly aware of the shortcomings of our young republic, yet
they don’t let those become a barrier to their engagement.
From slowly taking on leadership roles to campaigning for civil and
human rights, to preserving the environment, to protecting women’s
rights, the independence generation is pushing boundaries and breaking
down walls of indifference and replacing cynicism with hope.
I met the youngest mayor of Armenia, Narek Sahakyan of Baghanis in
the Tavush region. He’s 26 years old and in charge of a border village
in Armenia that is within range of Azerbaijani sniper fire. He is bold
and dauntless, full of energy and love for his birthplace and he’s
operating and working in a way that most village mayors wouldn’t know
how to do or be. Yes, he hails from a small village, drives a Lada and
lives in a modest home, but his dreams and visions are big. He’s
thinking outside the box and he’s determined to make a difference. When
he speaks about the threats to his village, he seems to stand taller and
straighter and he’ll boldly tell you that the villager is strong,
committed and resolute…his sentiments and body language are clear and
what he wants you to know is that they know how to take care of their
own.
The young professionals in Yerevan who are actively protesting the
introduction of the mandatory pension system, have not only taken to the
streets using new methods and techniques to mobilize and build capacity
but are using social media like never before. While they may have their
own internal divisions and divergent methods, they are building
momentum, which hopefully might have a spillover effect for others to
begin addressing, in a very formidable way the array of injustices that
keep springing up around us.
The youth of the Diaspora are beginning to disregard the utopian
images of Mayr Hayastan and the sometimes dystopian version of
present-day Armenia – they are refusing the status quo, the ‘vay mama
jan’ breast-beating of those who only want to say negative things about
the homeland from a distance, perhaps to justify their own paucity of
commitment.
Organizations like Birthright, Youth Corps and other initiatives are
giving the Armenian youth of the world the opportunity and capacity to
engage in an authentic way with the realities of our country and these
young people, in return, are using every weapon in their arsenal to make
a difference. The recent #ArmenianGenocide action by the Armenian Youth
Federation is a case in point. Sitting in Yerevan, late at night I saw
their call to action on social media. I started following them, and then
began spreading the word, then started tweeting myself. It was an
amazing feeling to be sitting thousands of miles away from where these
kids were and to participate in such a real way in an initiative that
was cutting edge, at least for my generation. Did it change anything?
Perhaps not, but it sure as hell highlighted the power of passion and
identity and collective action.
While some of us may discount their new vision, their particular
approach or method of working within the Armenian reality, I think we
might benefit from the purity of their purpose. Maybe we could learn the
lesson of loving unconditionally.
"Asbarez," February 3, 2014
As a famous philosopher once said: "Those who forget the lessons of history are doomed to repeat it".
ReplyDeleteThe Turks will crush them without mercy.
For your information, George Santayana's actual sentence was: "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." It is strange that you mention the Turks with relation to an article where they are not even obliquely mentioned. It is also strange that you conveniently remember them and forget that the "lessons of history" or the "past" do not include only them, but also others who have been around us as "friends," "brothers," and other similar characterizations. Finally, if you think that the only way of living is to be "sheeple," then you don't belong to any world where freedom of will is a cherished value.
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