The village of Tzaghkashen in Gegharkunik Marz lies only 10 kilometers from the regional center of Gavar. Upon entering the village however you would think that you’ve entered a place hundreds of kilometers from the last outpost of civilization.

Of course, this doesn’t mean that Gavar itself is some shining example of what civilization has to offer. The stretch of road linking Gavar and Tzaghkashen has become a veritable garbage dump. Tzaghkashen remains the only settlement in the Gavar administrative district that is totally isolated. The village’s natural climatic conditions aren’t the best either. Its arable lands lie some 2300-2400 meters above sea level, most of its meadowlands at 2400 meters and its pasturelands even higher at 2480 meters. The lofty elevation of the village has worked against the development of agriculture.

The twenty families whose land is situated on the steep slopes of the mountains haven’t been able to work the land since they were privatized. Every year the melting snows run down in torrents, cutting the land up with deep and wide ditches. Animal husbandry also hasn’t been developed since the sector hasn’t proved to be cost effective. This year it cost 550 drams to produce one bale of hay, but hay is being sold in the village for 600 drams. Naturally, the villagers would rather buy hay given these conditions.

The village goes without water for irrigation while drinking water freely flows through six taps installed throughout the settlement. There is no family that has access to water in their courtyard, much less in their house. During the deep freeze of last winter only one of the six taps was operational, the others having froze up. Half of the village’s families, living next to the Gavar River, attempted to solve the water problem by drilling a well. But the water extracted, a mixture of river water and snow melt, proved to be dirty and unfit for human consumption and is only used for the animals. Many however were forced to drink this water when the taps froze last winter. But even the wells are seasonal and are dependent on snowmelt and the river flows.

Tzaghkashen has a population of 661 and 176 homesteads. Practically all have one or two family members working elsewhere since there is no other way to make ends meet.

Both the Village Municipality and the two other municipal institutions, the library and the cultural house, haven’t been able to pay salaries for years. This issue was taken up by a session of the Village Council on January 15, 2007. As a result, a timetable was drafted that envisages paying off the owed salaries of 6.8 million drams during the next seven years.

The Municipality also has property tax debts to the government of 303,400 drams and land tax debts of 3.5 million drams. The property tax debt mostly derives from the 20-25 vehicles registered to the village but never used and the land tax debt stems from paltry revenues and other objective conditions.

In 2007 Tzaghkashen received vital assistance from the state budget that was used to repair three of the two bridges spanning the Gavar River that had been damaged by spring floods.

The aluminum door leading into the unattractive one-windowed Municipal Office is propped open by two large stones. Once inside, the setting is even gloomier. Grey corridors lead to a general room furnished with tables from the Soviet era and a few battered chairs. Setrak Margaryan, the Municipality’s Secretary, noted that during the past winter they were only able to supply the Mayor’s office with electric heaters. This year they would like to renovate the entire building and make it somewhat presentable.

The situation of the village and its residents is characteristic of many other rural settlements in Armenia. The problems faced by small, remote settlements straddling the borders or located in the higher elevations are unending. While larger settlements have their problems as well, one thing is clear. According to the ROA law regarding “Local Self-Governance” there is no differentiation made between the following settlements: Geghakar (pop. 45), Tzaghkashen (Pop. 661), Vartenik (pop. 11,000) and Gavar (pop. 26,400). If we compare one of these settlements of Gegharkunik Marz with settlements of Yerevan (itself considered a Marz) based on similar population figures the result is sad and comical at the same time.

Naturally, it would be difficult to base the village’s future development solely on internal resources and potential. But by relying on external assistance and exigencies would distort the entire meaning and thrust of ‘local self-governance’. Residents of Tzaghkashen are quick to point out what they expect from the government in the way of assistance when they read out their long list of complaints. But this goes counter to the government’s stated plans to decentralize matters away from the capital Yerevan while at the same time maintaining the links necessary to make the “Local Self-Governance Bodies” accountable and controllable; controllable not by practicing the precepts of local governance but in terms of the central government controlling its functions.

When I was sharing my observations of Tzaghkashen with a certain businessman familiar with the villages of Gegharkunik, he made an interesting point, “The simplest way to keep those people living in the shadows of those mountains would be to cut all their taxes.”