Ruben Vardanyan, imprisoned in Baku and in the hands of an enemy that may subject him not only to a staged “trial” but also to outright physical retribution, affirms: “Artsakh existed, Artsakh exists, Artsakh will exist.” Meanwhile, the Civil Contract officials living in cotton wool — cushioned by their positions, government cars, and bonuses — do not even dare to utter the name of Artsakh. The contrast is stark, almost jarring. And it reveals a great deal about our reality in Armenia.
In the first case, a man has sacrificed his comfort and his freedom for the sake of his convictions — and is prepared to sacrifice his life. In the second, people are ready to endure any humiliation, perform any farce, and assert the exact opposite of what they were saying three or five years ago, so long as they can continue enjoying their seats.
More broadly, these are two opposing views of life — and, in particular, of the meaning of the state. If the meaning is simply to live comfortably and eat well, then perhaps there is no need for a state at all. The overall standard of living of our compatriots in Glendale, Istanbul, or Moscow is higher than that in Armenia.
If that is the essence of the so-called “Real Armenia,” then the conduct of people like Ruben Vardanyan stands in sharp contradiction to such an ideology. For it becomes impossible to explain why, having every opportunity for a luxurious life, he chose instead the path of self-sacrifice. And since the admirers of “Real Armenia” — the devotees of high-calorie contentment — cannot comprehend this, it is hardly surprising that even now, in these circumstances, they continue to label Ruben a “Russian agent” and “Tatar Rubo.” It would be difficult to find a clearer indicator of social degradation.
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…It is good that there are people like Ruben Vardanyan who, from time to time, remind us what human and national dignity mean. And most importantly, who allow us — as Armenians — to face the world without shame.
Aram ABRAHAMYAN
