After a somewhat mind-numbing but not too unpleasant 35 hour bus ride from Yerevan the first vista one gets of Istanbul (Constantinople) is from the Asiatic side of the city, the densely populated hillsides gradually giving way to the blue waters of the Marmara Sea below.

Our bus slowly makes its way through the evening rush hour traffic through the neighborhoods of Kadikoy, Uskudar until we spot the Bosphorus Bridge spanning the narrows of the same name that separates the continent of Asia from that of Europe. It’s only a short time before we cross our second bridge, the one that takes us over the Golden Horn into the old city of Istanbul, or more appropriately Constantinople. We soon pulled into the bus station located in the neighborhood of Aksaray, a semi-squalid but bustling district full of street vendors, prostitutes, clothing wholesalers and cheap hotels.

I wonder if Hagop Baronian, who chronicled the sights, smells and sounds of Bolis (short for Constantinopolis) over a century ago, would recognize the place today. What follows is not an attempt to analyze the city and its Armenian inhabitants, a la Baronian’s “A Stroll through the Neighborhoods of Bolis”, but rather a random set of initial observations and impressions culled from a somewhat frenzied set of meetings and conversations I had. Thus, readers please take note.

I was traveling to Istanbul with Edik Baghdasaryan, the Chief Editor of “Hetq”, to attend a conclave of reporters and editors mostly from Eastern Europe and some post-Soviet countries sponsored by some well-meaning international organization hell bent on promoting investigative journalism in the hinterlands. But all this is secondary to the tale I want to tell here. It turns out that it was Edik’s first visit to Istanbul and he was particularly interested in meeting Armenians from the ROA who chose to do business and reside there, never expecting to return. Many of these individuals remain illegally and confront a whole different set of problems than the “original” Armenian community. He will be addressing this topic separately elsewhere in the pages of “Hetq”.

I had been here before but it was over 25 years since the last time I had a chance to stroll the streets of Beyoglu and Beshiktash. Time and advancing age had taken their toll and my recollections weren’t all that fresh.

We had taken the bus because we wanted to meet Armenians from the ROA who traveled to Istanbul, whether for business, personal or other reasons. What compelled these people to seek their fortunes in a country generally recognized as the “implacable foe”, a neighboring nation with which Armenia has no diplomatic relations and a closed border, or seemingly so? Of course, we were also interested in meeting with the local Armenian community, one of the oldest, which stills clings on today, but about which most Armenians, in the Diaspora and especially in Armenia, know little about apart from general stereotypes and tragic news stories like the murder of Hrant Dink.

Luckily, before we departed, I had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of an Armenian from Istanbul, a member of the Sayat Nova Song Ensemble there, who was visiting Armenia. She proved to be our indefatigable guide to the city and our carte-blanche to the community. I’d just like to thank our dear friend Gayaneh Chalukian, her husband Jan Gavrilof and the other kindhearted Bolsahay’s for making our stay in Istanbul so pleasant and rewarding.

Interestingly, 99% of all the Istanbul-Armenians we met refused to describe themselves as Spyurkahay (Diasporan Armenian) or their community as part of the Spyurk. As they put it Bolis was something different and not to be viewed as another Beirut, Paris or even, dare I mention the name, Greater Los Angeles. To paraphrase the common sentiment we heard; we are living in the country of our forefathers, in a community that stretches back hundreds of years. We haven’t been separated from our roots.”

Fair enough, I thought to myself, not wanting to argue the point that this community, ancient and rich as it is, derived from conditions far removed, in the interiors of Anatolia. This reality too is something that Baronian wrote about in his works, of the teeming masses of peasants escaping the harsh socio-economic conditions and political repression in the Armenian vilayets in the east, of Istanbul serving as the gateway for so many Armenians from Western Armenia to the “promised” lands of Europe and beyond. It’s a story I know a little about myself for it’s the road traveled by my family as well. Personally, I prefer to see Bolis as some kind of transition point between our idealized notions of Western Armenia as it once was and the reality of the Diaspora of today. (But this is a topic for another time and place.)

Label it what you will, Constantinople historically served as the intellectual, cultural and political hub for what is called the western half (or more correctly, two-thirds) of the Armenian nation. Sadly, it has long since lost that important and vital function. Gone are the literary iconoclasts of the past, the writers for the periodicals “Mehian” and “Partsravank”. Gone too are the theaters and salons, run by Srpouhi Dusap and others, where the Armenian intelligentsia of day would meet. Then too, gone is the “Yerkir”, the burdened masses and tragic homeland that was the source of inspiration and concern for so many of these individuals and institutions in Bolis, the heart of the Ottoman Empire.

Fortunately, we met numerous dedicated and diligent individuals who are working against all odds to maintain that proud tradition and transform it according to present-day realities.

We had the good fortune to visit the offices of Agos, the newspaper founded by Hrant Dink. Upon entering the building from the street where Hrant was cut down by an assassin’s bullet, the Turkish guard sitting in the vestibule hardly looked up from his cup of tea as we entered. Security cameras and locked doors greet the visitor to the office upstairs. It’s a veritable beehive of activity, with young volunteers manning computers, reporters filing stories, and people streaming in and out of the narrow hallways.

We had a chance to talk to Mr. Pakrat Estukyan, the Armenian Editor of the paper, who proved quite forthcoming in his assessment of the situation the community finds itself in today and the challenges it confronts. A veritable storehouse of knowledge when it comes to the history of the community, Mr. Estukyan minced no words when asked about relations between the Turkish-Armenian community and the government of Armenia.

Simply put, there are none. It seems that Bolis is far down the list when it comes to official Yerevan recognizing the importance and richness of the Istanbul-Armenian community and its possible strategic importance, especially given the recent pronouncements of President Sargsyan regarding initial steps at normalizing relations between the two countries. Mr. Estukyan held out hopes that if relations on an official level were to improve then the ties between Armenia and its compatriots in Istanbul would improve as well.

I just wonder if the new head of the recently created Ministry for Diasporan Affairs even knows the name of the Patriarch of Bolis or has a clue about the number of Armenians still residing there. Perhaps President Sargsyan, in addition to inviting Turkish President Gul to the upcoming Armenian-Turkish football match, can also invite the editors of the three Armenian papers in Bolis (Agos, Marmara and Jamanak) to cover news surrounding the game for readers back home. At least they would know that the new Armenian President is aware of the existence of an Armenian community in a country he’s now outstretching his hand to. A symbolic goodwill gesture, if you will, that I’m sure would be welcomed by the Bolsahay community.

Aras Publishing House is another unique institution of the community we had the opportunity to visit. Run by Mr. Payline Tomasyan, his wife and an energetic staff of Armenians and Turkish colleagues, Aras has published over 150 titles, both in Armenian and Turkish, in its short existence. It is a unique operation, similar to Agos, in that many of its titles are Turkish translations of Armenian and English works of Armenian related subjects.

Recently the massive tome by Raymond Kevorkian, a French-Armenian historian, on the Genocide, was painstakingly translated into Turkish and published. The resources required for such projects are immense and mostly financed in house. In fact, this appears to be the case throughout the community. The thirty-five operating Armenian churches, seventeen high schools and numerous cultural and civic organizations are all mostly maintained by the community itself. Quite a massive undertaking if you think about it. No state financing here.

The intention of both Agos and Aras Publishing, by publishing in Turkish, is to introduce the Armenian community, its history and traditions, to the wider Turkish public at large. Some, if not many, both in the Diaspora and Armenia, would say that this is folly and a pipe-dream; that Turkish sentiments regarding Armenians will never change. But small inroads are being made as witnessed by the number of “enlightened Turks” working along side Armenians at Aras.

What Hrant Dink proposed and other like minded Istanbul-Armenians are saying is don’t use the issue of the Armenian Genocide as a hammer, but rather as a chisel, to slowly carve away decades of disinformation and distrust. It will surely be a long and arduous process but the alternative is to follow the dead-end policies of traditionalist Armenian hardliners who have had nothing tangible to offer other than hollow and self-serving rhetoric. I say let those who have remained in Istanbul and who are struggling daily for democracy and human rights have the last say-so on what is the best course to adopt.

It was then off to meet Silva Kuyumcuyan, the Principal of the National Gentronagan Varzharan which celebrated its 120th anniversary last year. Located in the Karakoy district, the school was founded by Patriarch Nerses Varzhabedian and its first Principal was the noted intellectual Minas Cheraz. Seated in her office she told us of the difficulties facing the school, the lack of qualified Armenian language instructors and of course various pressures enacted by the Turkish government.

As Principal, she has been waging an uphill battle to maintain the educational integrity of this hallowed institution for more than twenty-five years now. Given that diplomatic relations do not exist between Turkey and Armenia instructors at the school cannot attend training sessions held in Yerevan for Armenian language instructors from the Diaspora.

Despite all these drawbacks she has been able to expand the school’s classroom facilities and proudly took us on a tour of the newly opened building’s wing. Upon departing, when we asked if there was anything we could do upon our return to Armenia, she merely desired that we spread the word that the Gentronagan High School still survives and hopes for the day that normalized relations between the two countries might pave the way for expanded ties between educators in Armenia and the Bolsahay community.

One night, our Armenian friends invited us to an open-air concert along the shores of the Bosphorus. After a short boat ride up the straits, passing the Dolmabahce Palace designed by the Balian family of architects, we reached the venue, a huge amphitheater seating at least five thousand. The crowd, a mix of Turks, Kurds and Armenians, was boisterous in welcoming the performers on stage.

The acts, a mix of song and dance, included the Kardes Turkuler, Ruhi Su Dostlar Korusu and Sayat Nova Korosu ensembles. This was one of a series of ongoing joint events to build bridges between the various communities on a cultural level; and from what we saw it seems to be working. The performing arts in Turkey are used as a means of struggle for democratic change in a land where political expression is still repressed.

The throngs of mostly young people were up on their feet singing and dancing along with the performers on stage. It was quite a stirring and spontaneous expression of defiance in the face of political realities on the ground, a modest attempt to break down the stereotypes hindering the various communities to cooperate for the achievement of shared goals.

Culture, as a weapon for change, is something sorely lacking in Armenia and some of our music producers here should take notice of the fact that popular culture doesn’t have to be the monotone regurgitation of vapid themes and song stylizations now dominating the radio waves and TV shows in Armenia. Later on, we were able to arrange a meeting with one of the performers, Aynur Dogan, a young female Kurdish singer, who also uses her vocal gifts to inspire hope and resistance, not only among Kurds, but Armenians, Turks and others as well. For her efforts, one of her CD’s was banned by a provincial court in Diyarbekir. 

She confessed that the radio archives of Kurdish national songs housed in Yerevan, and mostly collected during the Soviet era, were a veritable treasure trove of source material for her. When asked if she would ever contemplate a visit to Armenia and a possible performance she replied, most definitely. All it would take would be the backing of some forward thinking producers.

My narrative wouldn’t be complete without mentioning the name of Sarkis “Aghparik” Cherkezian; a man well into his nineties who played a pivotal role in the founding of the Turkish Communist Party. We were taken to the street where he lives, close to the Armenian Patriarchate in Kumkapi, by one of our Armenian guides. Sure enough, as we were told he would be, the old man was sitting at the entrance to his small one room apartment on the narrow alleyway outside. Once heavily populated by Armenians, the district is now mostly the home of Kurds from the provinces whose children run and play unattended into the wee hours of the night.

After making our greetings he led us inside his somewhat ramshackle abode. We were also told that he was a poet and that he liked to entertain guests with impromptu recitings of his works. Sure enough, in the lull between our questions, he began his recitations - in perfect literary western Armenian. Most of his creations he keeps stored upstairs, in his still nimble brain. Sadly, only a fragment has been recorded in writing.

Sarkis told us about the trips he made to Armenia during the Soviet era and his dismay about what free-market capitalism has wrought there in its wake. This wasn’t the time for a political debate about the merits and drawbacks of liberal economic policy. Reaching to the bookshelf behind him he took out a copy of his biography, published in Turkish, that he gifted to us.

Once back outside he sat down on his chair, cigarette in hand, to watch the comings and goings on the street he calls home. We asked our friend why he didn’t move away from this neighborhood where Armenians now longer lived. It seems his tiny apartment is the property of the Patriarchate which rents it to Sarkis at next to nothing. Also, he stays out of his political convictions, to be close to the masses as it were.

Obviously, during our stay we mostly came into contact with a certain segment of the Bolsahay community; the professional strata if you will, working on a variety of cultural, social and political levels. Do these people represent the community as a whole, especially given that most of the individuals cited above possessed what I would call left of center, if not socialist, political leanings; probably not.

The artisans, tradesmen and manual laborers of Baronian’s day have all but vanished. We did get to meet some Armenian gold and silversmiths, but it appears that their days are numbered as well, victims of market exigencies and a lack of willing Armenian apprentices. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the time or contacts to meet with individuals belonging to the “working and lower middle classes”. It would have been interesting to hear their opinions on the state of the community and domestic Turkish politics as well.

Whatever their socio-economic background I came away with the impression that many in the community view the Democratic Left movement in Turkey, in all its various guises and manifestations, as the only viable opposition to the dominant Kemalist ideology.  No wonder that Sarkis Aghparik and many of the Armenians we met in Bolis see themselves as part of this political movement, to greater or lesser degrees.

Many still hold out hope that democratic change is possible, in the long-term, through such political and cultural struggle. Folly perhaps, given the tragic experiences of past history and the traditional  reluctance of the Turkish left to recognize that there are unresolved issues if Genocide and minority rights, but what is the alternative?

Today’s Istanbul-Armenian community is the inheritor of a rich and proud cultural and historical legacy. It serves as a living link between the “paradise lost” of Western Armenia and the reality of the Diaspora today. It is a resource to be tapped rather than neglected, as is the case today.

On the eve of recent feelers put out by the Armenian government to actually meet face to face with their Turkish counterparts, the Istanbul-Armenian community can offer a wealth of information and personal insight into the mindset and motivations of the Turkish state. Then too, shouldn’t the community, its representative religious, cultural and social bodies, at least be incorporated into this unfolding political process of normalization? What are their expectations, concerns and hopes in this regard? While I cannot offer a specific mechanism as to how this might be done, it would be a slap in the face to the community if the possibility isn’t even explored.
 
Yes, the community is struggling to maintain its collective existence, its institutional life and unique self-identity. I for one cannot question the sincerity of the convictions of those Istanbul-Armenians we met who believe that their future, as individuals and as a community, is inexorably linked to the process of democratization in Turkey and that, in this goal, they share common ground with Turks and Kurds alike who aspire and work for the same thing.

The path they take to ultimately achieve this dream is of their own choosing. I found their tenacity and temerity both admirable and inspirational. The very least the rest of us can do is support them in what ever way possible and practical.

P.S. - For more information regarding the Istanbul-Armenian organizations cited above:

1) Aras Publishing: http://www.arasyayincilik.com
2) AGOS: http://www.agos.com.tr
3) Sayat Nova Ensemble: http://www.sayatnova.org
4) Getronagan: [email protected]
5) Aynur Dogan: http://www.aynurdogan.net/haberler.asp

July 12, 2008
Yerevan, Armenia