We have incredible blessings in this country, from the freedom ingrained in our democracy to the opportunity to provide a remarkable quality of life for our families. Many immigrants arrived grateful and hopeful for their children, hoping to see improvements for the next generation. When the survivors of the Armenian genocide arrived, their expectations were similarly focused on their families and survival — escaping atrocities puts many things in perspective. 

The Great Depression was difficult for our immigrant ancestors, but they were conditioned with remarkable inner strength. Sending their sons off to a war after personally escaping inhumanity was emotionally unsettling, but sacrifice was never a stranger. Their lives were reset during and after the war period, when it became clear that they were not returning to the homeland in freedom. Opportunity was for their children, they realized, as they watched the first in their family graduate from high school and then college in this new land. 

Prosperity has many positive attributes but carries inherent risk, as it can invite indifference to the values instilled by our surviving parents and become a distraction from Armenian traditions of family, faith and nation. As Armenians in the diaspora, a dark cloud has hovered over our existence. The injustices left unanswered by the crime of genocide have been that cloud — a constant presence. Yet, they have also galvanized generations, driving advocacy for our rights. 

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The genocide —  ingrained in our collective psyches —  unites Armenians as a common experience alongside our language, faith and food. It is also the burden we inherit, politically acknowledge and continue to struggle with. 

Unresolved justice can lead to productive energy or negative behaviors, and we have experienced an abundance of both. Our international network of advocacy has built a strong foundation of truth, achieving victories in genocide recognition. However, the battle is never over, as forces of evil persist. But we must remain grateful for our successes. 

We have observed the impact of unproductive activity such as hatred, racism and egos in our individual and communal history. This is what happens when energy is channeled into dead ends. Emerging once a year to offer words of insult and hatred towards Turks accomplishes little to nothing for the causes we hold dear. Investing our personal resources appropriately remains a challenge rooted in the emotion of loss.

Recently, I have observed diminished energy in the diaspora for serious work on Armenian rights. I am not referring to media coverage or advocacy groups, which carry on their work with noble commitment, but visibility can, at times, inflate the community support. There have been fewer public expressions of outrage on significant issues. I will cite a few examples. 

During the Artsakh crisis of 2020-2023, particularly during the nearly year-long genocidal blockade, the diaspora’s response was tepid. Thankfully, AYF activists and advocacy groups such as the Armenian National Committee of America (ANCA) and the Armenian Assembly of America did their utmost to rally the public and lobby for support. However, sustained public efforts were marginal. We had our share of “one and done” rallies, often held on weekends. Frankly, the rhetoric of our outrage did not match the output. 

Another example is the current horrific incarceration of former Artsakh officials and POWs in Baku’s prisons. Where are the rallies? Are we waiting for others in our community or President Trump? Certainly, advocacy groups exist to support these challenges, but there is a perception that the public is lightly subscribed. It seems that we have more energy for public policy debate with Armenia than we do for freeing our brethren.

The recovery of our leaders in Artsakh reflects the soul of our global nation. The diaspora should be vocal and visible, demanding their release.

We must learn that resolving our challenges is a marathon and not a sprint.

The work of activists lies at the core of the inheritance we carry. It is difficult, with small victories and many obstacles, but it must remain at the forefront of our fabric as human beings. The list of injustices seems to get longer, increasing the burden on individuals. There was a time when we were focused on the genocide and its impact — recognition and eventually reparations. Then came the deportations and murders in Baku, Sumgait and elsewhere in Azerbaijan — crimes committed with no justice.

The first Artsakh war was bittersweet: the land was liberated and genocide was prevented, but it came with a terrible loss of life and no international recognition. Nakhichevan was stripped of its Armenian history. In Jerusalem, racist Israeli settlers encroach on the historic Armenian Quarter amid shady deals, with justice still pending. Artsakh was destroyed by genocidal actions and its leaders were illegally jailed. Human rights violations persist without accountability.

The question becomes: what is the extent of our activist bandwidth? Are the volume of challenges and ambivalence limiting our response? Perhaps our capacity is impacted by disunity and “victim fatigue”? Activism must help people move beyond victimhood, channeling resources into resolution. We are not subordinates pleading for help — but rather, confident carriers of a banner demanding accountability.

Our “fatigue” can be reduced through productive collaboration and meaningful activism, but little will change without each of us looking in the mirror.

Many Armenians are deeply concerned about the relationship between the diaspora and Armenia. Armenia seems to be focused on its citizens and holds certain expectations of the diaspora. Security crises complicate matters, but we need each other. Rapprochement with Turkey puts the genocide and other legacy injustices on the back burner. These issues shaped the foundation of the diaspora and are deeply embedded in its mentality. Asking diasporan Armenians to simply move on will create estrangement. I strongly encourage leaders of the diaspora and the Armenian government to find solutions and establish mutual support.

The matter of Western Armenia keeps emerging based on the demographics of many Armenians in the U.S. Recently, NAASR sponsored and completed a pilgrimage to Western Armenia and Cilicia led by our dynamic scholar Khatchig Mouradian. I have always had mixed feelings about participating in such an adventure. On the one hand, it is where our family originated. My grandparents were from Sepastia and Adana. My wife’s grandparents are from Kharpert. We have studied their history and have done our best to keep it documented and passed on to our children. I admired the Facebook updates from Jeanmarie Papelian and Melanie Haroutinian, meticulously explaining their discoveries. 

It is difficult not to feel a connection. I have struggled with my emotions and am uncertain how I would handle such a trip. My feelings range from immense sadness to profound humiliation at our losses without accountability. Could I decouple my inherent political thoughts from my journey? Many of us carry this burden. I hope to converse with several of the pilgrims to listen and understand how they dealt with the emotional impact. This is why engaging in dialogue to connect our global communities with the homeland is vital; remaining aloof cannot be acceptable.

What unites us is the shared goal of making the Republic of Armenia a permanent state on this earth. In this generation, we are fortunate to have a free and independent Armenia. If we lived from 1375 to 1918, this idea would have been a faint notion. Sometimes, we need to truly internalize that reality. We must never lose Armenia. Likewise, the diaspora has been and will continue to be a solid institution in Armenian life. It should be a natural marriage.

Armenians have suffered horribly, particularly in modern times. While other peoples, such as the Kurds and Palestinians, have also faced atrocities, forced displacement and starvation, Armenia is blessed with an independent homeland. I am not certain that we, in the diaspora, understand how unique that is in this fragile world. If we did, we would probably unite when appropriate and reduce our casual commitments. This is a time to be focused on what matters.

Stepan Piligian was raised in the Armenian community of Indian Orchard, Massachusetts, at the St. Gregory Parish. A former member of the AYF Central Executive, he is active in the Armenian community. Currently, he serves on the board of the Armenian Heritage Foundation. Stepan is a retired executive in the computer storage industry and resides in the Boston area with his wife Susan. He has spent many years as a volunteer teacher of Armenian history and contemporary issues to the young generation and adults at schools, camps and churches. His interests include the Armenian diaspora, Armenia, sports and reading.

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