Dear Mr. Vardanyan,

I write this letter to a political prisoner — now held captive by a brutal dictatorial regime — with the hope that it reaches you, independent of your political views.

From Germany, I salute your courage and your resistance. As you know, the solidarity of the oppressed knows no borders. I want you to know that, as Armenians — and above all, as conscientious human beings living in Western countries — we have done everything in our power for you and others unjustly held as hostages. We have taken to the streets for you. We have written letters to the authorities in our countries. We have tried to shine a light on your plight in the media. Yet, this is all we can do… at least, for now.

The battle, ultimately, rests with you — even if it feels impossible, even if it seems meaningless. And yet, it pains me to see your despair. Perhaps all you need is a reminder: you are not forgotten. You still exist in the memory of others, and it is precisely for this reason that I write this open letter.

Throughout history, hunger strikes have been a powerful form of non-violent protest. From the doorsteps of ancient Ireland, where the wronged fasted for honor, to the dusty roads of India, where Gandhi’s frail frame became a moral mirror to an empire, fasting has been the language of conscience. In prison cells and detention camps, hunger strikes have carried the same message across centuries: you may control my body, but you cannot break my will.

When Bobby Sands refused food in 1981, the world watched his body fade even as his cause became immortal. When Gandhi fasted, millions paused their anger to listen. Hunger strikes are a silent scream to the world, the final weapon of someone driven by principle.

Mr. Vardanyan, we have heard your scream.

Yet, we live in a post-modern age where such honorable gestures are often ignored. The Azerbaijani prisons where you are held are not a place for idealistic protest. Speaking from my experience growing up in Turkey, I have seen this before: in the 1980s and ‘90s, leftist prisoners used hunger strikes to fight injustice, and their suffering drew international attention, pressuring governments and institutions. Today, however, the same methods are met with silence — lives sacrificed for principle are often wasted, and idealism seems to serve only the oppressor.

What moved me to write to you was your decision to waive your right to defend yourself and dismiss your attorney. Reading about the injustice you have endured, your determination in the face of oppression compelled me to reach out. And yet, I struggle to understand the motivation behind such a protest within a country like Azerbaijan, notorious for its disregard for human rights.

As an intellectual, I am sure you understand that such idealistic gestures, however noble, may not sway soulless hearts. A hunger strike will weaken your body, and surrendering your right to defend yourself will only ease the Azerbaijani regime’s ruthless grip.

Mr. Vardanyan, if this letter reaches you, I write on behalf of the conscientious people who have fought for your cause. We ask you to resist injustice not through surrender, but through the steadfast fight to preserve your life, your dignity and your mind. Your struggle is not in vain, and your courage has already spoken to the world.

With unwavering respect and solidarity,
Levon