Lucine Kasbarian—Perspectives from Exile

Lucine Kasbarian—Perspectives From Exile

ԵՐԿՐՊԱԳՈՒԹԻՒՆ May 18 - June 13, 2015 Kiss the Ground exhibition series curated by Todd Bartel Foreword and exhibiton essay © 2015 Todd Bartel Cartoons & cartoon statements © 2007, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015 Lucine Kasbarian Der Zor Diary reprinted with permission, © 2010 Lucine Kasbarian Artist’s Statement; Where Have We Come? Where Are We Going? © 2015 Lucine Kasbarian Edited by Eli Keehn, Lucine Kasbarian All Photos (except otherwise credited) © 2015 Todd Bartel Design Todd Bartel © Thompson Gallery, The Cambridge School of Weston Printed on demand by Lulu.com All rights reserved Thompson Gallery The Cambridge School of Weston 45 Georgian Road Weston, MA 02493 Cover: Lucine Kasbarian, Doomsday Scenario [detail], 2012, ink on paper, 11 x 8.5 inches

Thompson Gallery 2

Kiss the Ground Gagik Aroutiunian, September 5 - November 15, 2014 Talin Megherian, December 18, 2014 - March 13, 2015 A New Armenia, part 1, December 6, 2014 - January 20, 2015 (Armenian Museum of America) A New Armenia, part 2, January 25 - March 1, 2015 (Armenian Museum of America) A New Armenia, part 3, March 30 - June 13, 2015 Lucine Kasbarian—Perspectives from Exile, May 18 - June 13, 2015 Kiss the Ground is a six-part exhibition series that examines and celebrates contemporary Armenian art, one hundred years after the 1915 Armenian Genocide.

ABOUT THE THOMPSON GALLERY The Thompson Gallery is a teaching gallery at The Cambridge School of Weston dedicated to exploring single themes through three separate exhibitions, offering differing vantages on the selected topic. Named in honor of school trustee John Thompson and family, the Gallery promotes opportunities to experience contemporary art by local, national and international artists and periodically showcases the art of faculty, staff and alumni. The Gallery is located within the Garthwaite Center for Science and Art, The Cambridge School of Weston, 45 Georgian Road, Weston, MA 02493. M–F 9–4:30 p.m. and by appointment (school calendar applies). thompsongallery.csw.org ABOUT THE CAMBRIDGE SCHOOL OF WESTON The Cambridge School of Weston, located in a Boston suburb, is a progressive, coeducational, day and boarding school for grades 9 through 12 and post graduate.

Established in 1886, the school is dedicated to fostering individual strengths and deep, meaningful relationships through a wide range of challenging courses and a variety of teaching styles. csw.org

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Foreword & Acknowledgments

Any time a people are separated from their indigenous lands, we will also regrettably see a departure from the native culture. It is difficult to authentically replicate that culture without environmental reinforcement, and it requires formidable effort to resist the influences of a new dominant culture that might not always be preferable or superior to the old one.1 Charles Garabed Kasbarian, 2014 Diasporan Armenian writer and editor, and father of Lucine Kasbarian

My parents succeeded in passing on to their children the language and customs of the Armenians at the cost of a great sacrifice of their ability to succeed materially in the New World. By making Armenian the language of the home, they saddled themselves with broken English for the remainder of their lives, and we were the beneficiaries of that sacrifice. The same can be said of my wife’s family.2 Charles Garabed Kasbarian, 2014

Lucine Kasbarian—Perspectives from Exile is the final exhibition in the Kiss the Ground series—a six-part series designed to examine and celebrate contemporary Armenian art at a particular moment in history, and organized to coincide with the centennial commemoration of the 1915 Armenian Genocide. At its core, the series is informed by the contrast between remembrance and the endurance of the Armenian people.

Though it was not initially conceived during the planning of the exhibition series itinerary, Lucine Kasbarian—Perspectives from Exile came into being through extraordinary circumstances that allowed the series to become a responsive reflection of the local Armenian community. In many 6

ways, the Kiss the Ground series is a reflection of that community, which actively works to end the century of denial of the Armenian Genocide by its perpetrators—the Ottoman government and its successor state of Turkey. It is important to remember that the local Diasporan Armenian community is thriving today because of the brave and heroic efforts of their Armenian families that sought refuge in the United States about one hundred years ago.

As we close the series with Perspectives from Exile, we take a moment to consider the exhibition series title as it relates to the hundreds of thousands of families, who, like Kasbarian’s grandparents, began anew elsewhere: Kiss the Ground takes its namesake

from the etymology of one of the Armenian words for “worship.”3 The word “yergurbakootyoon” translates literally to mean, “kissing the ground,” but figuratively refers to total submission—voluntary or involuntary…Spoken in English on American soil, “kissing the ground” brings to mind reverence for land, for home, for country, for people, and for a way of living.4

We reflect the voices of this community in order to remember that it is one thing to be in a family who endured the horrors of 100 years ago, and yet another entirely to also live under the dark cloud of denial which Armenians the world over have endured for more than a century. It is exhibitions like this, and, of course, the countless political actions of those who speak out about such injustices—such as Kasbarian, who uses sharply pointed, dark humor to raise awareness—which in turn help us all to remember that these injustices have yet to be answered for. Thus, the poignantly titled Lucine Kasbarian—Perspectives from

Exile is an effort to “fight the good fight,” to seek justice, to demand restitution, and to remember the vantage points of those families who, as Charles Garabed Kasbarian reminds us, “pass[ed] on to their children the language and customs of the Armenians at the cost of a great sacrifice of their ability to succeed materially in the New World.” Exhibitions such as Perspectives from Exile exist as a call for social justice, and our viewers help carry forward the memories and ideas explored within these shows.

submitted to her local newspaper, The Record, anticipated her life’s work as a political cartoonist (see fig. 1 and fig. 2)

During the process of mounting the Kiss the Ground exhibition series, I was introduced to many Armenian artists, and in a few key instances the meetings spurred additional projects that expanded the Kiss the Ground itinerary. Such was the case when artist Marsha Odabashian (Kiss the Ground parts 1 & 3) shared the political cartoons of Lucine Kasbarian with me.

Odabashian’s introduction ultimately led to the creation of a special exhibition of Lucine Kasbarian’s work at the Red Wall Gallery (Mugar Center for the Performing Arts) and a powerful presentation at the Mugar Center

by Kasbarian.

The Kiss the Ground exhibitions were designed to provide a needed platform for American Armenians to voice their thoughts and aspirations through contemporary art regarding the history of their people.

Including Kasbarian in the series provides our audience with important insight into what contemporary Turkish rhetoric sounds and looks like. Kasbarian’s work makes all the more palpable the kinds of trials and tribulations the global population of Armenians navigates today.

Kasbarian’s political cartoon career technically began when she was a high school student. The cartoon, which she

Figure 1. Am I My Keeper’s Brother?

The Record, July 15, 1981

and foreshadowed the way she makes content comparison the preeminent feature of her art. For some unknown reason, only Kasbarian’s idea was used and credited

by The Record, but not her actual drawing.

Our CSW student body agrees with my colleagues and me: The Record published the lesser of the two drawings.

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human and minority rights in Turkey. He was often critical of Turkey’s denial of the Armenian Genocide.”6 On April 23, 2015, the Turkish lawyer, journalist and human rights activist Orhan Kemal Cengiz—a contemporary of Hrant Dink who has written extensively about Dink’s murder and the rights of minorities in Turkey—pointed out why contemporary Turkey has so much difficulty rectifying its history of oppressing indigenous groups, including the Armenians.

In the Istanbul-based newspaper Today’s Zaman, Cengiz said:

Figure 2. Lucine Kasbarian, Keeper’s Brother?, 1981 ink on paper, 11 x 8.5 inches

Officially, Kasbarian’s career as a political cartoonist began as a response to the 2007 murder of Turkish citizen Hrant Dink, the Armenian journalist, publisher and editor-in-chief of Agos—an Istanbulbased weekly newspaper published in the Armenian and Turkish languages. Dink was assassinated in front of his offices by Ogun Samast, a 17 year-old Turkish nationalist, shortly after the premiere of the genocide documentary Screamers. In this film, Dink had been interviewed about Turkish denial of the Armenian Genocide.5 As a prominent, outspoken member of the Armenian minority in Turkey, “Dink was best known for advocating Turkish-Armenian dialog and 8

[Turkish] nationalists believe that the stronger their denial [of the Armenian Genocide] is, the more they protect the interests of this country. If this interest lies in having a floundering democracy, having a culture beset by aggression, having all sorts of hate speeches and so on, they are absolutely right. But if this country’s interests lie in having real self-confidence, having a strong moral conscience and having a strong democracy, we, who believe this country ought to confront its past, are right.7 To date, Kasbarian has created dozens of cartoons, which examine the contemporary stance of Turkey on the subject of the Armenian Genocide. On April 12, 2015, less than a month away from mounting Kasbarian’s exhibition and only 12 days before the observance of the Armenian Genocide Centennial on April 24th, Pope Francis, in a Mass commemorating the centenary of the start of the killings, acknowledged the Ottoman Turkish 1915 slaughter of the Armenians. His Genocide acknowledgment was welcomed by human rights advocates and condemned by the Turkish government. And in the midst of planning her exhibition and slide lecture, when Turkish President Erdogan responded

to the Pope’s acknowledgment with a threat, Kasbarian answered quickly with a powerful cartoon (see page 53). Beyond the examination of events, Kasbarian’s cartoons chronicle what is transpiring in the world as it unfolds. Lucine Kasbarian—and her family in general—have been at the forefront of various issues that have evolved in the century after the 1915 Armenian Genocide, and Kasbarian has done much to insure that dialog is ongoing.

2015 has been a year in which cartoons have taken center stage in world affairs, demonstrating the power of visual imagery in raising political discourse and even rousing social unrest. Provocative cartoons, such as those mocking Islam—published in the French satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo and at the Draw Prophet Muhammad Cartoon Contest at the Curtis Culwell Center in Garland, Texas 8—have resulted in the shootings of magazine staff and bystanders, as well as the gunmen themselves. Such events speak to the tenuous implications of free speech. In her talk to The Cambridge School of Weston, Kasbarian spoke of social conflicts and how good taste and judicious reasoning can play a role when it comes to self-imposed, voluntary limits on free speech for the sake of the common good.

We at The Cambridge School of Weston are exceptionally fortunate to be able to round out our year-long examination of what Pope Francis, among many others, calls “the first Genocide of the 20th Century”9 with the opportunity not only to see Kasbarian’s political cartoons, but also to hear her commentary and participate in dialog with her as she directly responded to our questions during her assembly slide show.

I am most thankful to have had the great fortune of teaming up with Lucine

Kasbarian, who helped our school audience understand the power of the observations and cultural juxtapositions that her art so compellingly explores. Through Lucine Kasbarian’s art and lecture, we are reminded that the word “respect” means to “look again,” which is what her political cartoons demand from the detractors of Armenian history. I am grateful for Kasbarian’s assistance, her numerous suggestions for readings, and her ideas and never-ending energy. I am indebted to Marsha Odabashian, for her insight to introduce me to Lucine Kasbarian. Our exhibition series was expanded in vital and important ways for having included Perspectives from Exile. Such cultural “reinforcement” stands as a hopeful model for our next generations.

Todd Bartel Gallery Director, Curator Thompson Gallery ________________________ 1. C.K. Garabed (a.k.a. Charles Garabed Kasbarian), Interview with a Diasporan Armenian Writer, infowelat.com (posted in “Bulten”), April 16, 2014, http://www.infowelat.com/interviewwith-a-american-armenian-writer.html, 4/10/15 2. Ibid 3. Rev. Fr. Daniel Findikyan, Ed., The Divine Liturgy of the Armenian Church, St. Vartan Press, New York, 2011, ix 4. Todd Bartel, Kiss the Ground—A New Armenia I/III, catalog essay, Thompson Gallery & Lulu.com, 2015, p.12 5. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hrant_Dink, July, 20, 2015 6. Ibid 7. Orhan Kemal Cengiz quoted in Why do I want Turkey to confront 1915?, Today’s Zaman, April 23, 2015, http://www. todayszaman.com/columnist/orhan-kemal-cengi-z/why-do-iwant-turkey-to-confront-1915_378750.html, July, 20, 2015 8. Glenn Greenwald, Free Speech for Western Apologists Only, Alternatives International Journal, http://www.alterinter.org/ spip.php?article4295, February 1, 2015 9. John Hayward, Breitbart, “Turkey Calls EU and Pope’s Recognition of Armenian Genocide an ‘Evil Front,’” April 16, 2015, http://www.breitbart.com/national-security/2015/04/16/ turkey-furious-at-eu-pope-for-recognizing-armenian-genocide/, cited September 16, 2015

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Diary: Lucine Kasbarian—Perspectives Der fromZor Exile A Pilgrimage to the Killing Fields of the Armenian Genocide

ԵՐԿՐՊԱԳՈՒԹԻՒՆ

Lucine Kasbarian—Perspectives from Exile When done properly, the political cartoon stimulates and creates opinions; is a kickstarter of conversation and discussion; and is the essence of confrontation put into art form.

Patrick Oliphant (b. 1935) Pulitzer prize-winning political cartoonist

The political cartoon has always served as a special poke, jab or nudge: A reminder to elected officials that they are public servants.

Herbert Block (b. 1909, d. 2001), Washington Post cartoonist

Political cartoons are critical of society, and nothing is more patriotic than social criticism. The First Amendment of the US Constitution doesn’t exist so that we can freely praise our elected officials; it exists so we can freely criticize them.

Chris Lamb (b. 1958) Journalism professor at Indiana University, Indianapolis, and author of the book, Drawn to Extremes: The Use and Abuse of Political Cartoons.

Lucine Kasbarian—Perspectives from Exile is a special, short-term exhibition, added to the Kiss the Ground exhibition series to augment the artist’s slide lecture on Monday May 18, 2015, and running concurrently with A New Armenia (Part 3). Perspectives from Exile examines the political cartoons of Lucine Kasbarian, whose work unflinchingly chronicles the intergovernmental relationship between Armenia, Turkey and the United States of America, the history of the Armenian Genocide, and the persistent denial of those crimes against humanity of over one 12

hundred years ago.

Kasbarian is a New Jersey and Massachusetts-based children’s book author and syndicated journalist/political cartoonist.

As a cartoonist, Kasbarian’s intention is to “spotlight realities and hypocrisies that do not receive adequate coverage in mainstream media; to see her work appear in media outlets that reflect the traditions of a truly free press; and to drive the points home in absurdist, paradoxical ways by drawing from history, popular culture and personal experience.”1 Lucine Kasbarian is a second-generation, American-Armenian descendant of Genocide survivors, brought up in an Armenianspeaking home where humor, politics and the arts shared equal stage.2 Kasbarian first began producing political cartoons in 2007 in response to the appalling murder of Armenian journalist Hrant Dink by Turkish gunman Ogun Samast, as a way to constructively express her outrage over that social injustice.3 Since then, Kasbarian’s cartoons have appeared in a number of publications including The Armenian, Assyrian and Hellenic Genocide News; The Armenian Weekly; Foreign Policy Journal; HETQ: Investigative Journalists of Armenia; Independent Australia; Keghart; Women’s International Perspective; Veterans Today; and Zartonk Daily.

Kasbarian’s cartoons are typically printed in high contrast, but for this exhibition, they have been scanned and enlarged to twice their original size in order to provide our audience with insight into her creative process. While Kasbarian’s earliest works were drawn in pencil, she has since consistently worked with everyday materials, using whatever black, or blue pen is on hand, and she now works exclusively on

8.5 x 11 copy paper. Over the past eight years, Kasbarian’s work has evolved from a handful of initial cartoons into a studio practice that is becoming known and sought-after. Now, with dozens of cartoons in her portfolio, Kasbarian has largely developed her own visual language and iconography as she chronicles Armenian political affairs. In Kasbarian’s comic/ tragic cosmology, all subjects are revisited, as current events develop in today’s news and re-inform yesterday’s understandings.

In her effort to “spotlight realities and hypocrisies,” Kasbarian’s work functions much like holding up two mirrors to juxtapose opposing and unreconciled views.

Kasbarian points those mirrors not at her own words, but at the competing statements and ideas of others. She downplays her personal politics in her drawings, while her writing makes her thoughts and connections more explicit. Because of the material she is examining in her work, her audience is afforded an opportunity to see other sides of the Armenian story—perspectives which allow our viewers opportunities to consider the myriad voices of Modern Turkey and others.

In this catalog, on the page facing each cartoon, Kasbarian provides a detailed statement of the ideas and process that led to its creation. Her statements provide insight into her struggles, frustrations and arguments about the intergovernmental politics she and her fellow Armenians navigate on a daily basis. While the cartoons have been arranged in chronological order for the catalog, the placement of the reproduced drawings on the Red Wall Gallery involved the shifting of a few works out of chronology for the sake of a establishing a mirror-type installation arrangement.

Kiss the Ground exhibition series with a set of lenses through which to examine both historical and contemporary affairs. Her work magnifies the ongoing unrest between involved nations after what is now over a century of Genocide denial, and clarifies the complicated relations between homeland Armenians and Diaspora Armenians—a subject that until recently has not received the attention it deserves. The Kiss the Ground exhibitions were intended to provide a space for descendant, Diaspora Armenian voices to be heard and considered. The previous exhibitions in the series explored taciturn, cryptic, poetic, and iconic artistic strategies and were organized so that as the series progressed the intensity of voice and style increased. Perspectives from Exile, in turn, amplifies stark, sobering and unsettling views, which bring into focus the contemporary struggles of the Armenian people.

Todd Bartel Gallery Director, Curator Thompson Gallery ___________________

1. Reprinted with permission from the artist’s bio. 2015.

2. Ibid.

3. Ibid.

Kasbarian’s political cartoons provide the 13

Perspectives from Exile

This cartoon depicts a coin featuring the image of slain Armenian journalist and free speech advocate Hrant Dink. It represents the paradoxical nature of societal norms and the issue of speech freedom in Turkey.

One side of the coin shows how the Turkish government and a wide segment of the Turkish public felt about Dink while he was alive. (Prior to his assassination, Dink was prosecuted for violating Article 301—insulting “Turkishness”—because he discussed the Armenian Genocide in Turkey.)

On the other side of the coin is a social statement about the attitudes held by the same entities towards Dink after he was assassinated for his views. (On January 19, 2007, Hrant Dink was assassinated by Turkish gunman Ogun Samast, in front of Dink’s newspaper office in Istanbul.)

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Two Faces, 2007 pencil on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 17

This cartoon visually illustrates the popular saying, “One man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter.”

The top and bottom left panels feature Armenian patriot Arshavir Shiragian, who carried out the execution of fugitive genocidist Dr. Behaeddin Shakir after Shakir was sentenced to death by a Turkish military tribunal in 1919.

The top and bottom right panels feature Ogun Samast, a young Turk, who murdered journalist and free speech advocate Hrant Dink because he “insulted Turkishness” by discussing the Armenian Genocide.

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Freedom Fighter, 2007 pencil on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 19

This cartoon simulates a restaurant menu representing the social practices that were common in the Ottoman Turkish empire. The common thread in all the panels is inequity and blackmail.

The top panel describes the brutal repression under which Armenians lived prior to the Armenian Genocide, as depicted in the famous novel The Fool.

The middle panel describes the conditions under which Armenians were exterminated or allowed to live during and after the Genocide, as depicted by the image of an Armenian girl raped and enslaved by Turks.

The bottom panel describes the more recent, but just as comparable, conditions Armenians face as former Turkish President Abdullah Gul blackmails former US Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice into shelving the Armenian Genocide Resolution in the US Congress.

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Osmanli CafĂŠ, 2007 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 21

This piece addresses how Turkey has confiscated Armenian land and property and misidentified Armenian cultural and religious sites. Turkey today shamelessly invites exiled Armenians to pay for the privilege of visiting their ancestral homeland and property in Western Armenia (that is, present-day eastern Turkey), thereby flaunting Turkish arrogance and generating tourism income from the victims’ descendants. Such a descendant displays a list of grievances brought to international bodies, including demands for reparations and restitution.

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Identity Theft, 2007 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 23

This cartoon features a revised logo of the Anti-Defamation League’s purported anti-bias program,”No Place for Hate.” The ADL was established in 1912 to fight bigotry and antiSemitism.

When it became known, in 2007, that the national ADL had been working in concert with Turkish and Jewish American lobbying groups to deny the Armenian Genocide and prevent the passage of a commemorative resolution in the US Congress, over 13 cities and towns in Massachusetts pulled out of the ADL’s NPFH program. These municipalities felt that an anti-bias group that showed a bias against Armenian Americans was unqualified to instruct school children about human rights.

The issue was widely covered in local, national and international media (http://noplacefordenial.blogspot.com).

The cartoon’s message, therefore, is that in the ADL’s worldview there may be no place for hate, but there is plenty of room for hypocrisy.

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Plenty of Room, 2007 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 25

This cartoon parodies George Orwell’s allegorical and dystopian novel Animal Farm and uses artist Grant Wood’s American Gothic painting as a symbol for American democratic values that have begun to run amok.

The cartoon features Orwell taking off on one of his books’ Seven Commandments, “all animals are equal,” and its subversion, “some animals are more equal than others.” Here, Orwell, dressed as Grant Wood’s puritanical woman, remarks, “All genocides are equal.” The ADL’s national director, Abraham Foxman, dressed as her farmer husband, replies “Some genocides are more equal than others.”

The ADL has a long history of combating anti-Semitism and protecting the memory of the Holocaust. It also, unfortunately, has a tarnished record of anti-Armenianism—denial and diminishment of the Armenian Genocide and working against its acknowledgment in the US Congress. Grassroots Jewish Americans, in fact, sympathize with Armenians and have supported Armenian Americans in their fight against all genocide denial.

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Animal Ranch, 2007 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 27

This piece spotlights courageous persons, including Sir Thomas More, Galileo and former US Ambassador to Armenia John Evans. While he was ambassador, Evans referred to the Armenian Genocide by its rightful name: genocide. During his tenure in office, Amb. Evans told the truth and suffered the consequences: dismissal from his ambassadorship by the US State Department for contravening US policy, which is to avoid offending Turkey, a NATO member.

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Truth & Consequences, 2007 ink on paper 8.5 x 11 inches 29

In international politics, gunboat diplomacy refers to a country’s conspicuous display of military power, in the pursuit of foreign policy objectives, against a second country— implying a threat of attack should the latter country not agree to the first country’s terms.

The center image features the famous “Mother Armenia” statue. She stands at the dividing line between Eastern (present-day) Armenia and Western (Turkish-occupied) Armenia.

Those Armenians living hidden in Western Armenia face persecution by powerful forces of “Turkification” if they self-identify as Armenians.

Those Armenians living in Eastern Armenia face unemployment and economic ruin if they do not comply with the growing influence of TARC-ificiation. TARC—Turkish-Armenian Reconciliation Commission of 2001—created a template for derailing restorative justice for the Armenians. That template is still in use today by the Reconciliation Industrial Complex (RIC).

RIC refers to the overlapping aims and financial relationships that exist among government officials, powerful legislators, lobbyists, NGOs, think tanks, academia, media and creative fields, and the industries and corporations that support them. These parties provide funding and other support for government programs, public and private policy initiatives, salaried positions, grants, and political access that will serve their own interests rather than the needs of the general citizenry.

This cartoon pertains to NATO pressure upon Armenia and ends with the comment, “no matter how you spell it, it’s curtains for the Armenians.”

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Gunboat Diplomacy, 2007 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 31

This piece recreates Aesop’s tale of “The Wolf and the Lamb.” It depicts how descendants of Armenian Genocide victims and survivors are today scapegoated and made the targets of hostility by the Turkish government and Turkish lobbies in the US—for example, when Armenian Americans seek to pass a non-binding Genocide resolution in the US Congress.

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As Aesop Would See It, 2007 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 33

This cartoon draws attention to the fact that there are two opposing laws in existence regarding the discussion of genocide, and that freedom of speech can be a Sword of Damocles, depending on where a person stands regarding a particular socio-political issue.

In Turkey, acknowledging the Armenian Genocide is punishable by law. In Europe, denying the Jewish Holocaust is punishable by law. Do these opposite laws serve the cause of free speech?

Slain journalist and free speech advocate Hrant Dink sought to illuminate his compatriots in Turkey about this paradox. The term “St. Hrant the Illuminator,� appearing in the cartoon, is a play on words. Just as patron saint Gregory the Illuminator is credited with bringing Christianity to Armenia, Hrant was, in effect, sainted after death for his visionary views and evangelism about free speech.

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The Orwellian Age of Enlightenment, 2007 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches

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This cartoon aims to visually illustrate the popular saying, “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” The image on the left recalls the genocidal Turkish Interior Minister Talaat Pasha in 1915 ordering his Turkish minions to drive the Armenians into the deserts.

The image on the right recalls Turkish Prime Minister Erdogan in 2012 cavalierly stating that Turkey wouldn’t think twice about deporting purportedly undesirable Armenian migrant workers back to Armenia.

Turkey remains mired in the past, maintaining a consistently bigoted attitude toward the Armenians. Ironically, genocide apologists often practice projective identification by accusing Armenians of regressivism—holding petty grudges and “living in the past”— regarding their persistence in drawing attention to the unpunished and unresolved crime of genocide.

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Frozen in Time, 2012 ink on paper 8.5 x 11 inches 37

This piece depicts the trinomial nomenclature for the endangered species, the Armenian.

A symbolic icon representing the Armenian has been placed within countries where Armenians were the indigenous population; regions where they were driven as a result of genocide; and countries to which they emigrated or from which they have since been displaced. It asks the viewer what will become of the exiled Armenian as a result of genocide, displacement, and assimilation into other cultures.

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Doomsday Scenario, 2012 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 39

This cartoon is a parody of the Hollywood horror film The Bad Seed, which documents the exploits of a sociopathic child. In this case, the protagonist is Azeri axe-murderer Lt. Ramil Safarov, who crept up on sleeping Armenian Lt. Gurgen Margaryan and hacked him to death during a NATO training event in Hungary.

Emulating a movie marquee poster, each “call-out” text in the cartoon highlights how different countries and political entities neglect the call to dispense justice. The overall message is that today’s political and cultural climates often reward bad behavior and present vices as if they are virtues—adding insult to injury to victim groups.

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Vice as Virtue, 2012 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 41

In 2004, Gurgen Margaryan, a lieutenant in the Armenian army, was hacked to death in his sleep by Ramil Safarov, a lieutenant in the Azeri army. Both were participating in NATO’s “Partnership for Peace” program at a base in Budapest, Hungary. Safarov said he murdered Margaryan because he was an Armenian. So much for NATO’s ability to organize multinational events in the name of peace-keeping.

Safarov was tried for murder. In 2006, the Hungarian court sentenced Safarov to a 30-year prison term without the possibility of appeal. Nevertheless, in 2012, Hungarian authorities agreed to release and extradite Safarov to Azerbaijan to serve the remainder of his sentence there. Though the Hungarian government stated that it had received assurances from the Azerbaijani government that the sentence would be enforced, Azeri President Ilham Aliyev issued a pardon upon Safarov’s arrival to Baku. Safarov was promoted to the rank of major, provided with free housing paid for by the Azerbaijani government, and hailed as a “hero.”

In this cartoon, then Turkish Prime Minister Erdogan decrees that, following Safarov’s example, every Azeri citizen should be issued a hatchet to use against neighboring Armenians.

Historically, neither Turkey nor Azerbaijan has been restrained or punished for hostile actions towards Armenia and Armenians. The overall message of the cartoon is that yet another Armenian has been bodily sacrificed for NATO’s illusion of peace in the Caucasus region.

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NATO Peace-keeping, 2012 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 43

A Shibbóleth—from the Hebrew shibbólet—is a word or phrase that has a hidden meaning to a particular group or tribe. It can also refer to a way of behaving that shows that a person belongs to a particular group.

In this cartoon, the shibboleth is the hidden meaning behind Turkey’s purported foreign policy of “Zero problems with neighbors.” In actual practice, that policy means the neutralization or elimination of Turkey’s neighbors and even their citizens to resolve Turkey’s problems.

Depicted are some individuals of Armenian and Kurdish ancestry who in recent years have been the victims of hate crimes committed by Turkish assassins. The victims include, clockwise from left, Armenian journalist and free speech advocate Hrant Dink; 80 year-old Armenian Sultan Aykar; Kurdish activists Fidan Dogan, Sakine Canciz, and Leyla Soylemez; and 85-year old Armenian Marisa Kucuk.

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Shibb贸leth, 2013 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 45

This piece depicts peaceful global demonstrations in support of the Armenians of Kessab, Syria, located near the Turkish border. Kessab was virtually destroyed in March of 2014 by extremist militias supported by the Turkish military.

The cartoon depicts Turkish Prime Minister Erdogan deriding these demonstrators as if to say that just one year short of the Armenian Genocide’s 100th anniversary, the Genocide is not over and that Turkey is willing and able to ‘finish the job.’

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Finish the Job, 2014 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 47

In 2014, militant forces calling themselves ISIS bombed the Armenian Genocide Memorial Church, Museum and Archives in Der Zor, Syria. This site memorializes those who perished in the nearby “killing fields” of the Armenian Genocide. The deserts of Der Zor were the last stop in the forced death marches of Armenians.

ISIS stands for “Islamic State of Iraq and Syria.” It is an extremist Islamic terrorist organization that currently controls territory in Syria, Iraq, Libya and elsewhere. When I learned of the destruction of one of the most sacred sites of the Armenian people, I also recalled news reports that presented evidence that Turkey, the US, and others were training personnel for and furnishing arms to ISIS. The name ISIS reminded me of Egyptian mythology, wherein Isis is the sister and wife of Osiris, the lord of the underworld. I remembered reading articles that reported that the ancient Cult of Isis has been revived in modern times by socio-religious and political sects who, some say, play a role in world politics and business. Hence, two “Isis” cults.

The cartoon’s title refers to a demonic entity that, according to Biblical prophecies, will appear in the “End Times.” The quote at the bottom is an excerpt from the Protestant hymn, “Onward Christian Soldiers.” Overall, the cartoon is a call for all Christians—Armenians and otherwise—to keep their faith, even in the face of demoralization, destruction and total annihilation.

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The Anti-Christ as Foretold, 2014 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 49

This cartoon depicts Turkish President Erdogan in a smoking jacket, nonchalantly blowing smoke on the 100th commemoration of the Armenian Genocide, which began on April 24, 1915—as Turkey simultaneously organizes a ‘competing event’: The 100th anniversary of the Allies’ failed landings at Gallipoli, Turkey which began on April 25, 1915 during WWI. Erdogan and Turkey’s actions are a smoke-screen to divert the international community’s attention away from Turkey’s denial of the Armenian Genocide.

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Erdogan’s Smoke-Screen, 2015 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 51

On April 12, 2015, Pope Francis acknowledged and condemned the Armenian Genocide at High Mass at the Vatican. Soon after, Turkish President Erdogan threatened the Pope: “I condemn the Pope and would like to warn him not to make similar mistakes again.”

Erdogan’s threat brought to mind the 1981 assassination attempt on Pope John Paul II by Turkish national Mehmet Ali Agca.

In this cartoon, Erdogan is shown recalling Agca’s attack in tandem with Pope Francis’s recent pronouncement, implying that Erdogan is thinking of dealing with the Pope in the way that Mehmet Ali Agca did.

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Threaten the Pope, 2015 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 53

This cartoon explores the insincerity and cynicism of Turkish President Erdogan’s public utterances regarding the Armenian Genocide of 1915-1923.

His statement that “Turkey shares your pain” is unacceptable because though it may appear to be an acknowledgment of wrongdoing, its real purpose is to deflect criticism of the Turkish government’s long-running denial of the Armenian Genocide.

It is as if a serial killer were to tell his victims’ families that “I share your pain” while at the same time denying that he had anything to do with the murders.

The cartoon shows two actual examples—dark as they may be—of how pain can be “shared” when one party administers the pain and another receives it.

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Shared Pain, 2015 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 55

The panel on the left of the cartoon refers to a statement that a leading official of the Armenian Apostolic Church made on April 28, 2015. He had announced the filing of a lawsuit against Turkey to reclaim Armenian church property in present-day Turkey that was confiscated during the Armenian Genocide. The panel on the right shows that the very next day one of the most significant Armenian churches of the Diaspora—this one in Aleppo, Syria—was bombed by the violent extremist group known as ISIS. The latter has been covertly supported in part by the Turkish military. The cartoon asks whether these two incidents are simply a coincidence or rather a violent reply by forces supported by Turkey to the Armenian lawsuit and other Armenian demands. In any case, the wholly unjustified church bombing can be regarded as a continuation of the religious and cultural destruction committed by Turkey during the Armenian Genocide.

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Coincidence?, 2015 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 57

In April 2015, Armenian Diaspora Minister Hranush Hakobyan publicly urged Diasporan Armenians to invest more money in Armenia’s banks in order to improve Armenia’s economy. Her words angered and dismayed Diasporans who feel that the current regime and oligarchs—powerful businesspersons who bribe government officials—are exploiting Armenia’s natural resources and stealing much of the charitable contributions made by Armenian Diasporans.

Here, Armenian President Serzh Sargsyan is shown whispering words to Hakobyan for her to repeat. She, in turn, parrots his sentiments by uttering what many in the Diaspora believe Sargsyan was falsely suggesting: That if the Diaspora were not so lazy, Armenia’s economy would be in better shape.

Indeed, in a recent interview on Russian television, President Sargsyan actually claimed that the Diaspora did not wish to help Armenia. It is a well-known fact, however, that Diasporans have donated billions of dollars and expended great effort for the rehabilitation and development of Armenia and its people. As such, the title of this cartoon is a play on the term “passing the buck,” which means to avoid one’s responsibilities by passing them on to others. Of course, since the cartoon has to do with money and banking, the “buck” also has another meaning.

The cartoon depicts a Diasporan Armenian feeling “donor fatigue.” Exasperated, he says that before pointing fingers at others, the oligarchs who have made their fortunes off their struggling fellow citizens should first do something to benefit Armenia’s workers and families.

The Biblical saying at the bottom reminds the government and oligarchs that if they do not reform their corrupt ways their misdeeds will lead to their and Armenia’s demise.

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Passing the Buck, 2015 ink on paper 11 x 8.5 inches 59

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Exhibition Installation Red Wall, Mugar Center for the Performing Arts May 18 - June 13, 2015

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Interview with Lucine Kasbarian

Reprinted from the Thompson Gallery Blog, March 30, May 26 & August 18, 2015

Todd Bartel: Was “Am I My Keeper’s Brother”—a cartoon drawing of a gorilla behind bars—your first political cartoon? What prompted you to develop that original cartoon and then submit it to your local newspaper as a high school sophomore?

Lucine Kasbarian: Yes, it was my first political cartoon.

Around that time, the theories of evolution and creationism were being discussed in school. I had been weighing both theories and thought an ironic way to express them would be to take the Biblical question Cain posed to God about Abel—Am I my brother’s keeper?—and turn it on its head.

As for the motivation to publish, since childhood I had been an avid reader of the Sunday comics in The Bergen Record. When I was about ten, a favorite comic strip, Mandrake the Magician, was pulled from the lineup of Sunday comics. I wrote to an editor to express sadness and to request that the paper reinstate it. To my surprise, the editor wrote back to say he had received many similar letters from readers, and that the paper was going to bring the comic back.

Based on that positive experience, years later I felt encouraged to contact the paper about its interest in publishing my gorilla cartoon. The editorial page editors liked the concept as a social commentary and had one of their staff illustrators redraw the cartoon.

For that, I received my first payment for cartooning work.

Bartel: What generation American-Armenian are you, and can you shed light on how your family came to live in the United States?

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Kasbarian: I’m the second generation in my family to be born in the United States.

Turmoil, danger, massacres, expulsion and genocide affected all my grandparents.

Their families were large on both sides, but I will stick to discussing my immigrant grandparents for brevity’s sake.

My maternal grandfather, Hampartsoom Hampartsoomian—yes, that was his name— was a miller living with his family in the village of Khorokhon in Sepastia, a province of Western Armenia—now called Sivas in present-day Turkey.

Just prior to the Genocide, the Turkish government was rounding up Armenian men ostensibly to serve in the Ottoman Army, but really in order to eventually kill them and render the general Armenian population defenseless.

To avoid inevitable death, Hampartsoom was advised to depart the country for a while. He fled to Bulgaria, leaving his wife and children behind with the intention of returning. While he was gone, his family was wiped out in the massacres and death marches.

My maternal grandmother, Armaveni Ghazarian, was a teenager when she witnessed her father being rounded up by the Turkish military and police with the other men of Sepastia and led away. She later discovered that they had all been taken to the outskirts of town and slaughtered.

Along with the other Christians in her town, Armaveni, her mother, and a young male cousin were rounded up by the Turkish authorities and sent on what was termed a deportation but was in actuality a death march.

Armaveni’s cousin was dressed up as a girl in the hope that concealing his gender might prevent his murder during the march.

Turkish soldiers drove Armaveni’s caravan— with most victims making the journey on foot— endless miles through valleys and over steep mountains.

Food and water were scarce and often totally withheld. Many Armenians who first traveled with carts and pack animals soon sold them for morsels of bread. Many caravans were attacked and robbed by marauding Turkish and Kurdish townspeople and bandits.

Armenians were stripped of their valuables and even the clothes and shoes they were wearing. The Turkish soldiers encouraged and engaged in the same kinds of acts.

We know from the historical record that these soldiers were often violent criminals that the government released from prison specifically to torture the Armenians—and Christian Assyrians and Greeks, too—in the most gruesome and agonizing of ways.

Women and girls were raped in front of their families and often abducted. Pregnant women were disemboweled. Their unborn fetuses were torn out of their bellies and mangled for sport. Eyes, tongues, teeth, fingernails and toenails were torn out.

According to eyewitness testimonies collected by British Colonel Sir Mark Sykes in Aleppo, Syria in 1918, and later published in Memories of the Holocaust, written by Dr. Levon Daghlian, Turks raped Armenian men; gang-raped women, who were later sold into slavery; crucified children and left them for dead; drowned women en masse in rivers— and some head down in Turkish toilets; crushed heads with iron tongs; and poured kerosene on Armenians and set them afire in group infernos.

The members of Armaveni’s caravan were forced to continue the march, many naked and barefoot. Along the way, Armaveni saw gendarmes shoot Armenians who tried to draw near rivers to quench their thirst. This was not simply relocation, as the Turkish government alleges. It was deliberate torture and murder for the native Christians.

Of course, the Genocide also enabled Turkish theft on a grand scale—land, properties, churches, schools, homes, businesses, and bank accounts.

I should mention that a major reason for the Genocide was that the “Young Turk” regime was seeking to create a huge Pan-Turkist empire consisting of all Turkic-speaking peoples of the Middle East and Central Asia and to expunge all native non-Turkic peoples—such as Armenians, Assyrians and Greeks—along the way.

After many weeks of marching, the remaining survivors—starving and in a pitiful state—reached the Syrian desert of Der Zor. This wasteland turned out to be the end of the line—a vast graveyard for the human prey of Ottoman Turkey.

Armaveni’s mother expired from starvation, exhaustion and exposure. Young Armaveni buried her mother’s body with her own hands. Her cousin managed to survive but became mentally unbalanced. He was institutionalized for the rest of his life as a result of his ordeals. After she managed to escape from the desert encampment, Armaveni entered a Protestant orphanage in Syria until relatives could raise money to bring her to America. In New York City, a parish priest introduced Armaveni to Hampartsoom—who had by then made his way to America. They married shortly thereafter and produced three children: Nishan (Nick), Ardashes (Arthur) 83

and Aghavni (Alice)—my mother.

My paternal grandfather, Hagop Der Kasbarian, was a silk weaver from Alipounar, a suburb of Western Armenia’s Dikranagerd province—now called Diyarbakir in presentday Turkey.

Even prior to the Armenian Genocide, Turkish oppression of Armenians was commonplace. Hagop’s father Der Kasbar— the local parish priest—along with Hagop’s elder brother Garabed were murdered during the Turkish massacres of 1894-96 ordered

by Sultan Abdul Hamid II. In 1912, Hagop left the country to find work in America before harm could befall him at the hands of the Turks. By then, it seemed to his family that the Armenians faced a bleak future in their own homeland and that Hagop needed to find a way for them to leave the country.

As fate would have it, when he established residence in the United States, the final letter Hagop received from his younger brother Hovhannes, the Secretary of the Armenian Progressive School in Dikranagerd, and dated just before the Genocide began in April 1915, said: “Don’t worry about us. We’re all well and alive.”

Soon after, Hagop’s brother Hovhannes and many of his relatives were murdered by the Turkish government.

In early 1915, Hagop had married a young woman from his village who had also migrated to America. In 1917, she bore a son a son, Antranig, but she herself did not survive childbirth. Three years later, after WWI had ended, Hagop went to Aleppo, Syria in search of an Armenian mother for his infant son.

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My paternal grandmother, Lusia Kazanjian, was married to a miller. Like the other men in her town, Lusia’s father and husband were massacred by the Turks. She had two infant children and her mother with her when she was driven out of Dikranagerd in 1915. My father tells me Lusia did not want to speak much about the horrors she witnessed and experienced. However, we do know that while she managed to smuggle out the property deeds belonging to her family, her two infant children perished during the death marches. Lusia and her mother, Hadji Touma, struggled on to Aleppo. (Borrowed from the Arabic, “Hadji” is a term given to a Christian who has made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.)

Hagop and Lusia met in Aleppo and were married in 1920. Together, they made their home in Union City, NJ, where they had three sons: Hovhannes (John), Haroutiun (Harry), and Garabed (Charles)—my father.

As you can see, two of my four grandparents—Hampartsoom and Lusia— were married with children before the start of the Genocide. They lost their spouses and children, but were determined to persevere by remarrying and having second families.

I am in awe of the courage and willpower these survivors possessed and the resolve that drove them to carry on, even as they tried to cope with their shock, grief, trauma and displacement. In effect, an entire nation had been orphaned, exiled, and made rudderless overnight.

I learned from a very young age about what had happened. I knew that other American children my age did not necessarily have widespread death and destruction in their immediate family histories. Naturally, this knowledge of Armenian history motivated

me to preserve and practice the traditions of my people so that their folkways would not disappear as our ancestors did.

http://www.armeniapedia.org/wiki/ Straddling_Two_Worlds:_An_Interview_ with_Lucine_Kasbarian

I wish I could see our civilization as it was, to know more about my relatives from several generations back, and to have had an intact family that supported and lavished love upon each other. While some general information is available—such as the foregoing—much is fragmented or has been lost because of Turkish destruction of Armenian documents, especially church baptismal records.

Bartel: When did you start making art about Armenian history and intergovernmental politics?

I cherish the few family photos that we possess from the Old Country. I often study the faces of my ancestors to try to know them and read their thoughts. Seeing a family resemblance between those who have passed on and those living today is a sign of the astonishing force of nature. Seeing these likenesses allows me to appreciate the chain of continuity of life­—such a fragile thing for us—and feel a comforting connection with ancestors whose lives were mercilessly and prematurely brought to an end.

Had the Genocide not taken place, my family would still be in Western Armenia today, a land that today is called Turkey. I hope one day to reclaim our confiscated properties in what I will always call Western Armenia.

For a longer treatment, readers are welcome to consult an interview conducted by a Kurdish writer-activist with my father in InfoWelat, a Kurdish political journal: http://www.infowelat.com/interview-with-aamerican-armenian-writer.html Excerpts from my mother’s family history are available in the following interview:

Kasbarian: The murder of journalist and free speech advocate Hrant Dink in 2007 started it. Dink was an ethnic Armenian citizen of Turkey.

He was born in 1954 in Malatya. He devoted his life to encouraging peaceful coexistence between the various peoples in Turkey. He also spoke often about the need to uphold free speech and openly discuss the Armenian Genocide without reprisal if Turkish society were to successfully evolve and grow.

When he was murdered for his views, I was outraged. Cartooning seemed a productive way to deal with and make statements about injustice. I like the immediacy of cartoons.

They can make a point through words and pictures, and inform others about an issue in a snapshot.

Bartel: One thing I deeply appreciate about the art you create is that your intellectual knife splits the finest hair. Can you provide an example of what prompted the creation of one of your cartoons?

Kasbarian: Thank you. My cartoons are often responses to things that have happened in history or are happening in the present. For example, in 2010 Turkish authorities announced their intention to make an alleged goodwill gesture towards the Armenians by renovating the 10th century 85

Holy Cross Cathedral on the island of Aghtamar, located on Lake Van in what was once Western Armenia (present-day Turkey). You see, Turkey holds this church hostage—it is considered one of the greatest remaining jewels of Armenian architecture.

During the time of the Genocide, it was confiscated from the Armenians and worship there has, by and large, been forbidden. In fact, the church had been used for target shooting for decades.

The state had long removed any signage indicating the provenance of this cathedral, which, incidentally, the Turkish state now runs as a museum. True to its penchant for renaming historic Armenian places, the state had taken to calling it Akdamar or Agdamar, which in Turkish means “white vein.”

Armenians know that the island of Aghtamar is named after an ancient Armenian legend, while the term “white vein” stands for nothing. Given the ongoing and predominant movement to “Turkify” indigenous Armenian cultural assets, I felt compelled to produce a cartoon called Identity Theft (page 23).

A trendy issue in popular culture at the time of this cartoon’s creation was the concept of credit card identity theft. That prompted me to think about an even older form of identity theft: when occupying forces co-opt the land, culture and traditions of indigenous peoples. Thus, I used the punch line, “Will that be MasterCard or American Express?” uttered by the Turkish ticket-taker featured in the cartoon.

The expression of irony and sarcasm helps me ward off despondency, which is a natural condition that can arise from living in exile for three generations. Being denied the right to reclaim one’s native land is a condition that has far-reaching implications that affect millions of people around the world to this day.

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Bartel: Cartooning has recently been the center of international focus regarding free speech and issues related to the First Amendment to the US Constitution—as in the cases of the French satirical magazine, Charlie Hebdo, in Paris and The Muhammad Art Exhibit and Cartoon Contest in Waco,Texas. Glenn Greenwald, American journalist, lawyer and author spoke out on the former saying: Free speech, in the hands of many Westerners, actually means: it is vital that the ideas I like be protected, and the right to offend groups I dislike be cherished; anything else is fair game. It’s free speech if it involves ideas I like or attacks groups I dislike, but it’s something different when I’m the one who is offended.

As a political cartoonist who deals with complex and sensitive issues, what are your thoughts about free speech?

Lucine Kasbarian: There seems to be no “one-size-fitsall” answer when it comes to what is universally considered appropriate or inappropriate regarding free speech.

This is one of the reasons I created a cartoon called The Orwellian Age of Enlightenment (page 35).

“Orwellian,” of course, is a term that describes a societal condition that author George Orwell identified as being harmful to a free and open society.

Journalist and free speech advocate Hrant Dink, an ethnic Armenian citizen of Turkey, spoke about the need

to openly discuss the Armenian Genocide in Turkey. He was murdered for it by 17 year-old extremist Ogun Samast, a Turkish citizen.

The main message in this cartoon is to show two opposing but concurrent laws regarding free speech. The cartoon asks if either law really advances free speech.

On one hand, discussing the Armenian Genocide in Turkey is punishable by Article 301 of the penal code because such discussion purportedly “insults Turkishness.” Human rights advocates around the world question this law because speaking about historic truths such as the Armenian Genocide has been criminalized by the inheritor of the Turkish regime that carried out the Genocide and that does not wish to accept the truth or deal with the consequences.

On the other hand, an opposite law is in effect in Europe. Questioning the factuality of the Holocaust in Europe is also punishable by law because it is considered “hate speech.” We should note, though, that this law does not apply to the denial of other genocides.

In any case, neither law—in Turkey and in Europe—allows for open discussion. It is this paradox that the cartoon tries to spotlight.

There is currently no universal consensus on whether there should be limits to free speech and what those limits should be. I certainly do not have the answers. I think it’s an issue that the world will continue to struggle with for many years to come.

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Der Zor Diary:

A Pilgrimage to the Killing Fields of the Armenian Genocide Lucine Kasbarian

DER ZOR DIARY: A Pilgrimage to the Killing Fields of the Armenian Genocide, by Lucine Kasbarian

Why would I seek out the Der Zor desert— the most infamous of the killing fields in the premeditated extermination of the Armenian people carried out by the Turkish government beginning in 1915?

Most of my extended kin did not survive the darkest period in our people’s history, 1915 to 1923. My four grandparents survived the ordeals, but lost virtually everyone else, or, in some cases, their entire clan. All but one grandparent lost their spouses, yet managed to remarry and raise second families in the United States. My parents, born and raised in the safety of America, were products of those second marriages.

My brother and I followed, brought up in a home where Armenian was spoken almost exclusively. Recognizing the value of what had been lost, our three generations vigilantly practiced Armenian customs passed down from our ancestors. In exile, we retained a love for the natural beauty of our ancient native land of Western Armenia, and longed for that land, even as it lay within the borders of present-day Turkey.

Deported Armenian mother and children.

My heart is like shattered homes and broken pillars thrown asunder...Wild birds will nest in our ruins...Let me throw myself into the water and be food for the fish’s babies...White waves lap upon the black sea about us and do not mix...In this melancholic, bewildered state, what can my darkened heart do?

Lyrics translated by Armen Babamian from “Homeless” (Andouni), composed by Gomidas Vartabed in honor of Armenians broken and exiled by the Genocide.

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Lucine walking in Der Zor (Photo: Richard Dikran Tenguerian)

How could I let our departed ancestors know that they had not been forgotten and were, in fact, with us in spirit every day? How could I feel closer to them and identify with what they had gone through as they were driven—barefoot and stripped naked, starving and fearful—along wild mountain ranges, all the way to a desolate place where, if they were still breathing, the Turks intended them to die agonizing deaths? How could I let my forebears know that—as I recalled those Armenians whose tongues and teeth were torn out and feet cut off—that we, the grandchildren of survivors, 95 years later, freely and mindfully used our tongues to speak our native language, our voices to sing the folk songs of our elders, and our feet to perform the dances of our native villages?

How could I let our ancestors know that the Armenian soul and our dreams of liberty, even in exile, did not die with them?

When I learned that a pilgrimage was being organized to visit the site, formerly in the Ottoman Turkish Empire, where caravans of Armenians were driven to oblivion, a voice inside said that it was time for me to walk in the footsteps of those who perished in or miraculously survived what is now the northern Syrian desert of Der Zor. So I joined other Armenian Americans, led by Vicar General Anoushavan Tanielian and Deacon Shant Kazanjian of the Armenian Prelacy in New York to visit people and places in Lebanon and Syria that were spiritually, historically, and culturally significant to the Armenian nation.

CELLULAR MEMORY As we were landing at Beirut’s Rafik Hariri Airport, the clusters of beige stone houses rising out of the hillsides reminded me of our Western Armenian towns such as Kharpert—

less than 650 kilometers away in eastern Turkey—before their destruction. These Lebanese hill dwellings transported me to a place that before this voyage had existed for me only in historical photographs of Western Armenia and in the recesses of my mind.

What exactly is Western Armenia? Armenia can be thought of as having two parts: the eastern part, represented today by the Republic of Armenia and Artsakh/ Karabakh; and Western Armenia, consisting of the eastern portion of Turkey as well as the northwest corner of the Mediterranean (known as Cilician Armenia), also occupied by Turkey.

During the Genocide, Turkey liquidated the Armenians of Western Armenia and attempted to do the same to the Republic of Armenia. The descendants of the survivors of the Genocide are often referred to as “Western Armenians.” Most live in diasporan Armenian communities, though large numbers of them also reside in the Republic of Armenia.

As we journeyed about Lebanon to Armenian neighborhoods, community centers and churches, all of which retained a distinct Armenian character despite the passage of time, we seemed to be traveling in a virtual labyrinth, spiraling inward, closer and closer to Der Zor. We were not only homing in on where the unspeakable occurred. In visiting vibrant Armenian communities along the way, some of them settlements that existed long before the trials of Der Zor, we were also drawing closer to the native lands of the Armenians—and my body instinctively knew it. It was as if everything about these territories—particularly later in Syria—had been seen, touched, tasted and lived on by the ancient lifeblood within me.

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Inside the Cilicia Museum in Antelias—a district of Beirut—we saw rare clerical vestments, chalices, relics and documents rescued from churches in Western Armenia.

Most of these treasures were brought to Lebanon through great personal sacrifices and under difficult circumstances during and after the Genocide. These treasures— including meticulously embroidered burgundy velvet vestments and carnelian, garnet and ruby-encrusted relics—seemed to embody a style that I had long embraced as my own.

These engraved silver belts, crosses and prized possessions revealed a decorative flair, refinement, craftsmanship and love of animals and nature that I had always instinctively sensed as being “Armenian.” The timeless style of these treasures spoke to my tastes. It occurred to me that these designs were not just my personal preferences but emblematic of a national character belonging to our people and somehow genetically ingrained in me.

THE ARMENIAN ESSENCE: Bourj Hammoud and Anjar In such surroundings, I did what came naturally—speaking with my fellow travelers, as well as Armenians we met, almost exclusively in the Western Armenian dialect.

It was our mother tongue and common language, even if speaking it is becoming less frequent in America’s melting pot.

As we rode along in our travels, I was entertained by Aroussiak, a woman who, as situations arose, recalled just the right, hilarious Armenian proverb. And in the seat ahead sat Azadouhi, whose family, like part of mine, hailed from Dikranagerd, Armenia— today’s Diyarbakir, Turkey. She knew of my interest in the endangered Dikranagerd dialect, and would feed me remarks and 92

phrases from it each time she saw something on the road for which she knew the term. As much as the pilgrimage was a solemn voyage for me, moments like these, when the flames of our language and culture rose tall, gave cause for joy and celebration. Before I knew it, surrounded by majestic mountains leading to the magnificent Jeita Grottoes of Lebanon, the Vicar and I were singing Lerner Hayreni (Mountains of my Fatherland), an Armenian song of exile. Again and again, I stood up in the aisles of the bus, craning my neck to see more and more of the terrain. The lands were unmistakably calling out to me, saying, “We are approaching where you come from.”

Our group spent an afternoon in Bourj Hammoud, a suburb of Beirut with a sizable Armenian population. In the years following the Genocide, survivors from Der Zor who plod into Lebanon were permitted to build shacks in what was then swampland.

Today, Bourj Hammoud is one of the most densely populated districts in the Middle East.

It teems with barbers, cobblers, and sellers of food, clothing, music, books and souvenirs— nearly all of them Armenians. Here we found Armenian churches, compatriotic, athletic and cultural organizations, meeting halls, and the offices of local Armenian newspapers and radio stations. During the Lebanese Civil War, the Armenian community remained neutral.

As a result, parts of Bourj Hammoud—now mostly repaired—endured repeated shelling by those who resented that neutrality.

For those who live in “BH,” as it is known for short, it is natural to hear the Armenian language spoken in the streets and Armenian music playing outside. For Armenians visiting from anywhere except Armenia (or, perhaps, Glendale, California), it’s an astonishing experience. Storefront signs appear in Arabic, Armenian, and English or French. Streets are

named for cities in Western Armenia such as Adana, Marash and Sis. Perhaps most amusing to an outsider are the scads of identically dressed young Armenian men in their designer t-shirts, jeans, dark sunglasses and five-o’clock-shadows, weaving through thick traffic on their motorbikes.

Upon entering the Bekaa Valley, 50 kilometers northeast of Beirut, a sign overhead announced, “Welcome to Anjar” in Arabic, Armenian and English. Anjar is populated by descendants of the Armenians of the Mediterranean region of Musa Dagh (now In Turkey) who outlasted murderous assaults by the Turkish army in 1915. The Armenian defense stand became a global symbol of resistance memorialized by author Franz Werfel in his renowned “Forty Days of Musa Dagh.” In 1939, Anjar was gifted to Armenians rescued from Musa Dagh and enabled them to begin their lives anew.

As our group was introduced to the Anjar community that today clings tenaciously to its proud history and identity, I was overwhelmed that an endangered piece of Western Armenia—Musa Dagh—had been, in a very real sense, relocated and preserved here. During a conversation with the remarkable Reverend Father Ashod Karakashian, I revealed my sorrow about our Armenian condition. His response was inspiring: “The heroes of Sassoun [another Armenian region that endured Turkish assaults] were outnumbered and fought off marauding Turks through their absolute will to survive and live on their native soil in dignity. Where would we be if these Armenians had given up at the first sign of duress?”

HALEB As our tour bus ambled along a highway

en route to Aleppo, I recognized the tree before me: the slender perennial that is depicted in paintings that hang in Armenian homes throughout the world. In these paintings, two of these trees grow upright in the foreground of the twin peaks of Mt. Ararat—the universal symbol of Armenia, even if the mountain today happens to be within the boundaries of Turkey. This tree is the Mediterranean Cypress, planted centuries ago by conquering Romans extending their empire. I could not help but conjure Armenia in my mind upon seeing thousands of these trees in our travels.

The Citadel of Aleppo (Photo: Richard Dikran Tenguerian)

There was something unmistakably familiar about the northwestern Syrian city of “Haleb,” as Armenians call Aleppo: The dense and vibrant Armenian-speaking neighborhoods; the Armenian churches constructed in our traditional architectural style; the narrow, winding, cavernous cobblestone streets; structural motifs that were decidedly “Orientalist;” stone houses that were at once ancient and environmentally conscious; the arid climate; the fruit, nut and olive orchards; the camels, donkeys and bazaar merchants—all these things had an air of familiarity. The absence of over-industrialization which allowed the natural beauty of the terrain to shine through and the lack of blatant consumerism and pop culture were just a few more 93

reasons why Haleb in particular seemed much more native to me than New Jersey or Boston do.

passageways built under the gigantic moat surrounding the Citadel lead to the 40 Martyrs Armenian Cathedral more than a

And it’s no wonder. The very first Armenian presence in Haleb dates back to the 1st century BC, when Armenia’s King Dikran I subjugated Syria and chose Antioch (later a chief center of early Christianity) as one of his four capital cities. After 301 AD, when Christianity became the official state religion of Armenia, Haleb developed into an important center for Armenian pilgrims on their way to Jerusalem. And in the 12th century, when the boundaries of the Armenian Kingdom of Cilicia were not far from Haleb, Armenian families and merchants settled there in large numbers and established their own businesses, residences, schools and churches. I was, in a very literal sense, hitting close to home.

My eyes grew wide as we were led into the center of the Old City to one of the oldest and largest castles in the world: the extraordinary, towering Citadel of Aleppo.

As it turns out, stone inscriptions in this medieval fortified palace tell us in Greek that Armenia’s King Dikran captured it when he took Haleb.

It was often the case that when people heard someone in our group speaking Armenian they would approach us to simply say welcome. This time, it was a tourist from Barcelona inside the Citadel who had come to visit his Syrian relatives. Recognizing our vernacular, he wanted us to know how proud he was that his grandfather had hidden and protected Armenians during the Genocide.

As we expressed our gratitude for his grandfather’s righteous deeds, he posed for a photo with members of our group.

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With the grandson of the righteous Syrian (second from left).

(Photo: Richard Dikran Tenguerian)

kilometer away. It was upon visiting this hauntingly beautiful 15th century Cathedral that I witnessed a most inspiring scene.

During the Divine Liturgy of the Armenian Church, it is customary for the Nicene Creed, also known as “Havadamk,” or “We believe,” to be recited as an Armenian declaration of belief in Christ’s single nature with human and divine attributes. Here in the Cathedral, hundreds of worshipers attending Mass at the height of summer joined the clergy to recite— in Armenian, of course—this credo in perfect,

melodic unison. Chills went down my arms as I remained mute to appreciate the sacred feeling of communal and spiritual oneness that permeated the room. Thus did the echoes of Armenia continue to embrace us.

KESSAB The Armenian presence in the Kessab region of Syria (about 100 kilometers west of Haleb) predates Christ. Here in Kessab’s village of Kaladouran, the air, the soil, the foliage, the homes, the people and their traditions are Armenian to the core. The Armenians of Kessab, a coniferous forested region that faces the Mediterranean Sea, had endured centuries of persecutions and Turkish attacks.

Those unable to resist were death-marched to Der Zor in 1915. In the post-World War I era, Kessab endured further attacks from Turkey. In 1939, Turkey unjustly annexed part of Kessab’s Cassius Mountain range. This included the Barlum Armenian Monastery, farms, fields, properties, laurel tree forests and grazing lands that belonged to the native Armenians. Locals say that in the annexation Turkey managed to capture enough land to ensure that it possessed the pristine, sandy beaches surrounding the Kessab region and not the rocky ones, which were left to Syria.

It was only through the efforts and perseverance of the Armenian Catholic Patriarch of Cilicia Cardinal Krikor Aghajanian and Remi Leprert, the Papal representative in Syria and Lebanon, that Kessab remained under Syrian jurisdiction. From Kessab, Turkey is a mere 3 kilometers to the north, and Musa Dagh 50 kilometers further.

A bright spot in the annals of Armenian history is that a vibrant, Western Armenian way of life, and Kessab’s unique Armenian dialect, still thrive in this coastal town and surrounding villages. Let us rejoice

that Armenians freely live and prosper in a remnant of the majestic lands of the Armenian Cilician Kingdom.

Seeing magnificent Kessab again was a homecoming. Twenty years ago as a college graduation present, I was permitted to come to Kessab to rebuild the then nearly vanished Sourp Stepanos chapel with the organization named Yergir yev Mushagouyt (Land and Culture). Today, as I stepped out of our group’s van, entered the finished sanctuary and marveled at its rustic beauty, I knelt down, prayed, and then kissed the beams of the chapel, grateful to witness a miracle: a restored piece of Western Armenia that others and I had in some small way helped to make a reality.

And yet, in a moment of grief, I lamented aloud the burdens we Armenians bear. A resolute voice among us, Reverend Father Datev Mikaelian of Aleppo, again brought reassurance: “Gather your strength by looking at Kessab’s mountains and breathing deeply. Think of all our compatriots who resisted, sacrificed their lives, and are buried under these mountains. We cannot falter.”

DER ZOR: The Killing Fields As we circled closer and closer to Der Zor, and with each community we visited, we went deeper and deeper into the Armenian consciousness. In mid-August, we reached the epicenter—to which countless thousands of uprooted Armenians had been driven to their deaths.

I stood on Der Zor’s blanched desert sands with nothing visible around us. Every fact and figure I had read, learned and memorized about the Armenian Genocide seemed to vanish. I could think only of the bleakness, the barrenness, the blinding sun and searing 95

heat of August—and how sentient beings had been deliberately herded to this inferno of nothingness to suffer and expire.

As I stood apart from the group, the atmosphere held a transcendent significance.

We had been given the rare opportunity to viscerally sense the thirst, hunger and agony that our martyrs and survivors had endured.

The reverence I had for the tormented souls who had their final release here left me oblivious to physical discomforts in the present. In fact, we arrived just two days shy of the 95th year of British statesman Viscount Bryce’s reporting that caravans of Armenians started to arrive in Der Zor.

Armenian Bones at the Der Zor Museum (Photo: Richard Dikran Tenguerian)

Many voyagers in the modern day have scratched and sifted the surface of Der Zor and found the skulls and bones of the murdered Armenians. Today, the land is still bare and unoccupied on the surface, and misery seems to cling to the dry, hot air. I thought about how the beaten bodies of our ancestors found eternal respite here, even if their spirits did not. I stared at the sand and, through my tears, quietly sang “Hahnk-jeh96

tsek,” or “May You Rest,” an Armenian repose of the souls. Turkey continues to claim that it had merely “relocated” Armenians to Der Zor. Yet who could survive in this abysmal place? Relocation meant death, just as Turkey intended. Before we scrambled back on the bus, I collected sand and tumbleweed so that my contemporaries back in America could recall Der Zor in a tangible way.

GHOSTS OF THE EUPHRATES Several kilometers from the Der Zor desert, our group gathered on a suspension bridge over the Euphrates River where many Armenians had met their end. A dozen or so local Syrian boys seemingly seeking amusement and relief from the heat had perched themselves about 25 meters above the water, on the rails and cables of the bridge. As we ceremoniously tossed flowers into the Euphrates, these boys began to jump into the river. Their acts recalled for many of us the Armenian girls and women who, during the Genocide, committed suicide by flinging themselves into these very waters to avoid rape and abduction by Turks. Remembering this and seeing the boys jump, I could barely get the words out as the Vicar led our group in song: Gooys aghcheegner (Armenian virgins) Eeraroo tzerk purnetzeen (holding each others’ hands) Eerenk, zeerenk (as they in unison) Yeprad Kedn nedetzeen (threw themselves into the Euphrates) Could these local boys, the eldest of whom were just teenagers, have known the

significance of what they were doing? Or was it just a coincidence? To their families and the local authorities’ great regret, several youths had in recent years died from making such colossal leaps. Were these feats somehow intended to honor our dead or were they just youthful bravado? I was too unsettled by what we were witnessing at the time to ask more than a handful of people, who did not know.

I had seen, I walked further along the bridge, my arms clinging to my torso for solace. As I leaned over to peer through my tears at the River below, some postcards of rescued Armenian treasures from Cilicia fell from my diary and sailed down the Euphrates. At the time, I felt I had unwittingly littered the River.

But later, it occurred to me that the postcards may have had a mind of their own and sought to trail after and comfort the souls who had not been saved.

There is a saying that the Euphrates looks clear and bright to everyone but Armenians who, when they gaze upon it, see only murky greens and browns. As an Armenian who has now been there, I can vouch for that saying.

Even so, I suppose I should feel grateful that the Euphrates did not appear to run red from the blood of murdered innocents flung there during our ordeals.

It was only much later that my thoughts turned to personal connections to Der Zor: as a young girl my maternal grandmother Armaveni buried her own mother in those sands. And my paternal grandmother Lusia helplessly watched her two infant daughters perish in this wasteland.

In the days that followed our pilgrimage, I gradually collected my thoughts about all we had seen. I recognized that the Armenia of our ancestors was present all around us in the Levant. Two of the regions we visited in Syria—Kessab and Haleb—are long established, ancient Armenian communities.

Lebanon’s Anjar and Bourj Hammoud are communities established in the early 20th century, though there have been Armenians who have lived in those regions for centuries.

Syrian Boys Jumping into the Euphrates River (Photo: Joseph Vartanian)

To somehow mitigate my heartache over what

On the deepest level, puzzle pieces of a dismantled Western Armenia were staring back at us: In Anjar, I found the soul: the 97

Armenian struggle for survival and dignity.

In Haleb and Bourj Hammoud, I found the spirit: the lively, vibrant Armenian community. In Kessab, I found the body: Our homelands. And in Der Zor, I found the core: The tormented remains of our ancestors.

FAITH AND RENEWAL Many pilgrimage sites contain shrines where miracles are said to have occurred. If someone asked me what miracles I observed, I would first say that it is nothing short of a miracle that any Armenian survived the death marches into Der Zor. The second miracle was the existence of Armenian outposts in Lebanon and Syria where the Western Armenian culture, practically extinguished, persists. Bearing witness inspired me to rededicate myself to the Armenian struggle for justice. And it is my hope that by 2015— the 100th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide—every Armenian who has not yet gone will make the pilgrimage to Der Zor. We pilgrims owe a debt of gratitude to the people of Lebanon and Syria, who welcomed us this summer. Their governments were notified of and approved our pilgrimage.

They permitted us to freely travel to sacred Christian sites and to worship and commemorate as we chose. We had full access to our own churches and community centers, which are in Armenian possession.

These same nations took in refugee Armenians at the time of the Genocide, 95 years ago. Then, our exiles were permitted many rights that had been denied to them in their own native lands: to safely identify themselves as Armenians, freely speak their native language, practice their customs, honor their dead, earn a living, and build homes, schools and churches.

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COUNTERFEIT PILGRIMAGE What can we expect now that Turkey has organized an alleged pilgrimage for Armenians around the world, to occur on September 19? A one-day religious service will be permitted at the newly renovated 10th century Armenian Holy Cross Church on Aghtamar Island in the Van region of presentday Turkey.

To promote its image of being tolerant of its minorities, Turkey has recently reopened this church as an income-generating secular museum and tourist attraction. As evidence of its alleged intention to “reconcile” with its genocidal past, and instead of providing restorative justice, Turkey has made known that Armenians must, in effect, pay for visitation rights to Aghtamar’s appropriated church on appropriated land.

The exquisite Holy Cross Church, studded with bas-relief sculptures of biblical scenes, was confiscated when Van was emptied of its Armenians during the Genocide. In the years that followed, the Church’s exterior became riddled with bullet holes made by local gun-toting Turks. Left to rot, Holy Cross had somehow escaped total eradication or conversion to mosques or animal stables like most other Armenian churches in Turkey.

Van was, at one time, the capital of Armenia.

The Holy Cross Church was the seat of an Armenian Patriarchate from the 12th to the 19th centuries. As the Der Zor Memorial Museum states, “In 1915, the province of Van had 197,000 Armenian inhabitants, 33 monasteries, 75 churches, and 192 schools.

The city of Van alone had 32,000 Armenian inhabitants and 8 churches.”

Unlike our recent pilgrimage to Der Zor and the Armenian churches along the way, this “pilgrimage” the Turks arranged for the

Armenians to our captive Aghtamar insults the entire Armenian nation, not just those Armenians that Turkey itself victimized and dispossessed.

In the wake of Der Zor and our dreams for Western Armenia, perhaps Vicar Tanielian summarized the rebirth and mission of the Armenian people best in one of his sermons: “As with the death of Jesus Christ, the lands and the people of Armenia were lost to us. They each suffered, were crucified and buried. But in the end, Christ and Armenia were both resurrected.”

And so our struggle continues.

Lerner Hayreni (Mountains of my Fatherland) Oh, how I have longed for you, Proud mountains of Armenia, Upon your bosoms I have run and grown tired, My mountains, mountains, mountains of my fatherland.

From your peaks, clouds could have slid

In my veins is the strength of the mother soil, My mountains, mountains, mountains of my fatherland.

Music by A. Mirankoulian. Lyrics by V. Aramouni

______________________ Der Zor Diary: A Pilgrimage to the Killing Fields of the Armenian Genocide was originally published in Foreign Policy Journal, September 2010. Republished with permission of the author.

Post-script: Lucine Kasbarian’s expressed hope that mass pilgrimages to Der Zor would occur in 2015, the centennial year of the Armenian Genocide, never came to pass. As of this writing, most of the pilgrimage sites and communities visited and written about in Der Zor Diary have been damaged, liquidated or entirely destroyed by so-called ISIS. On Sept. 26, 2014, Lucine Kasbarian had this to say: On Sept 21, 2014, so-called ISIS destroyed the Armenian Church, Genocide Memorial and Archive of Der Zor. His Holiness Aram, Catholicos of the Great House of Cilicia, remarked, “This crime committed on the eve of the 100th anniversary of the Genocide and on the day of the 23rd anniversary of the independence of Armenia, is an act of barbarism. Let those who had a hand behind this crime know that the memory of our martyrs and the struggle of our people for justice symbolized by Deir Zor, as a sacred site of the martyrs, cannot be destroyed in the collective memory of our people.”

Like sheep descending into a valley.

Now I wish to be in your midst.

To again embrace you, mountains of my fatherland.

Emerald mountains, I left my heart with you.

And instead took with me the fragrance of your rose.

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100

2015: Where Have We Come? Where Are Der We Zor Going?

Diary:

A Pilgrimage to the Killing Fields ofNew the Armenian Jersey, March Genocide 2015 Lucine Kasbarian

I don’t think it’s necessary to tell you “Where have we come.” Suffice to say that the “Diaspora Experiment”—to resurrect Armenia in exile following the Genocide—was not just a success, it was a miracle.

Our parents and grandparents believed that through sincerity, truthfulness and activism, we could educate the world to achieve our dreams of a just resolution to the Armenian Cause. Our survivor elders were genuinely grateful to the First World and other nations who took them in—the United States perhaps being chief among them. But how much did our grandparents really know about America’s and some other countries’ complicity in abandoning the Armenians, even 100 years ago?

What we have learned in this country, through observation and experience, is that, with noted exceptions, the US government, mass media, universities and book/film industries often work at cross-purposes with Hai Tahd (“the Armenian Cause”), seeking to sterilize our cause, keep us down, divide us, diminish us, and wear us down.

We must rely on ourselves and our own assets to retain what we have, and prepare our youth to lead us into the future without being influenced by forces working against us.

In 2015 and beyond, our children will not necessarily receive a better Armenian education from universities that have Armenian Studies programs. This is because we Armenians usually have little control or influence over their faculty or curricula. Our children are not necessarily going to get to tell the Armenian story fully or truthfully by mainstream American newspapers or book publishers. They will be better off supporting and contributing to non-mainstream, alternative, and our own ethnic media and self-published books.

The Armenian identity is going to be instilled at home and through our organizations. Both have been a salvation for bringing our values to our 102

children, and responsible for bringing the spirit of Armenia to many generations, especially when Armenia was physically inaccessible to our youth.

2015 is a waystation in our long road to liberation and restitution. Acknowledgment of the genocide is not the end. Are our exiled Diasporan communities equipped and prepared for the long haul?

Armenians in the Diaspora have historically looked to the home country to carry on the culture.

From what we’ve seen, the situation in presentday Armenia may be even more perilous than in our Diaspora communities. Oligarchic corruption is strangling Armenia. And there is immense pressure by world powers to neutralize, co-opt or simply get rid of Armenia—which is considered an impediment and even a nuisance to the Great Game they’re playing in the Caucasus and Near East. As a result, the future of our homeland is in jeopardy—including by Pan-Turkism—just as it was 100 years ago.

If something were to happen to Armenia or Artsakh, such catastrophes would put the burden on the Diaspora to perpetuate the culture. Not long ago, we had rooted Armenian communities of the Middle East where our time-worn traditions were preserved and practiced. These Armenian strong-holds have been weakened and in some cases, destroyed. We can’t afford to assimilate any further. We must stop this erosion. Otherwise, we are committing national suicide.

We Armenians have a saying, “Baikar minchev haghtanag.” It means “Struggle until victory.”

However, we are past the point where we could use such a term. We must live by the parallel saying, which is “Baikar minchev verch,” and which means “Struggle until the end.”

This requires even more courage than the first slogan, because it takes a lot of strength to stay on the path in the face of looming defeat, destruction and extinction when you know the

prognosis is not good for the survival of Armenia, Artsakh, the hidden or captive Armenians in W. Armenia, or the global Armenian Diaspora.

Our obligation is to continue the struggle—and to go down fighting if we must—in this new battle of Sardarabad.

Today’s battle is, once again, the battle for our existence. To shrink from this battle out of depression or discouragement is to let down our ancestors, our history, our culture, and our faith— all which we love so much.

We must bear the pain when we see the continuation of the Genocide through the deliberate destruction of Der Zor, Kessab, Haleb, Damascus and Mosul. It is not lost on us that after 100 years of genocide perpetrated on the indigenous Christian Armenians, Assyrians and Greeks, powerful forces behind ISIS—the US, Turkey and Israel among them—are today removing all traces of ancient Christianity in the Middle East.

To be an Armenian is a burden and a duty. But it is also a joy. We must accept all of these aspects with the knowledge that perhaps, as the first Christian nation of the world, we were destined to be the earthbound madagh (sacrifice). Perhaps it is our fate to be constantly tested for our faith and endurance precisely because we are a strong, capable and amazing people.

against or compromise our Cause, if necessary, to get it. Much of the “Western establishment” uses such people as conduits to deliver damning messages to us; to make us doubt ourselves and our own history; to tell us that our goals are unreasonable or impossible; to poison and further traumatize us; and to discourage us.

We must be cautious about who we invite into our circles to influence our children. To this end, I insist that you read books before you invite an author to speak to your community. Study the curriculum of an academician before you invite a scholar to speak to your community. Understand the intentions behind the so-called “reconciliation” movement and who benefits from it.

To quote from the book, To Kill A Mockingbird, “Real courage is when you fight for what is right regardless of whether you win or lose.”

So today, we must say—in the face of all that our people suffered and endured, and have yet to still suffer and endure—“Baikar, baikar minchev verch.”

This article is an edited version of a presentation given

by Lucine Kasbarian before New Jersey ArmenianAmericans in March 2015.

Soon, we will celebrate the resurrection of Christ.

Let us remember that Armenia, too, was crucified and later resurrected. We have struggled for rebirth many times and succeeded. We may succeed still. But even if we don’t, we must remain strong at a time when our adversaries would like to see us crumble.

Our adversaries have made a high art of finding Armenians who are seeking career advancement and fame at any cost and who are willing to work 103

Artist’s Statement Der&Zor ResumÊ Diary:

A Pilgrimage to the Killing Fields of the Armenian Genocide

106

Artist’s Statement April 2015 is the 100th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide committed by Turkey. My political cartoons illustrate how Armenian Genocide survivors and their descendants have employed peaceful, constructive ways of responding to that Genocide and its near destruction of Armenian civilization.

The Genocide involved mass murder; death marches; torture; rape; abduction; slavery; forced ‘marriages’; involuntary religious conversions; and confiscation of ancestral territory, homes, farms, churches, schools, community institutions, and businesses.

4) Finish the Job, page 47 Armenians have protested/demonstrated against injustice.

5) Identity Theft, page 23 Armenians have approached international bodies for genocide reparations/ restitution.

These peaceful methods have been thwarted by powerful political forces and have not brought about restorative justice to the Armenian people.

Can pursuing justice through art and peaceful means truly confront, challenge, and transform violence so we that may coexist in a just world?

Lucine Kasbarian, April 2015

The Turkish government has long denied that a genocide took place. Unpunished, unrepentant, and emboldened by the indifference of most of the international community, the Turkish government today continues to institutionalize anti-Armenian bigotry inside the country and to orchestrate antiArmenian campaigns around the world.

Armenians’ attempts to tell their stories have often been blocked, met with indifference, or repressed by political forces. Even so, Armenians and their supporters continue to employ peaceful means to counter genocide denial and repression. The following cartoons illustrate five such peaceful methods: 1) Doomsday Scenario, page 39 Upon exile, Armenians became productive members of their adoptive countries.

2) As Aesop Would See It, page 33 Armenian-Americans have introduced commemorative resolutions in the US Congress.

3) Truth & Consequences, page 29 Armenians and their friends have spoken truth to power.

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LUCINE KASBARIAN B: 1965, Jersey City, NJ

EDUCATION 2012, 2007 1983-1987

School of Visual Arts, New York, NY. Graduate courses in Cartooning New York University, New York, NY, Bachelor of Arts in Journalism, Minors in Studio Art and Political Science

EXHIBITIONS 2015 Thompson Gallery, Weston, MA, The Cambridge School of Weston, Lucine Kasbarian—Perspectives from Exile Gallery Z, Providence, RI, and the University of Rhode Island, Armenian Genocide Centennial Exhibition Whistler House Museum of Art, Lowell, MA, Pursuing Justice Through Art The Sunny Dragon Graphic Illustration Festival, Yerevan, Armenia, Pandora’s Box—the Armenian Genocide 2010 Gallery Z, Providence, RI, and the University of Rhode Island, The Armenian Genocide 90 Years Later 1991 Puck Building, NYC, ASA Artists’ Ball AWARDS 2013 2012 1998 1991

CAREER 20072004-2007 2002-2004 2000-2001

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Nautilus Silver Award, Illustrated Picture Book Category (for The Greedy Sparrow) Storytelling World Resources Honor Book (for The Greedy Sparrow) Bank Street Best Books of the Year selection (for Armenia: A Rugged Land, an Enduring People) ASA Artists’ Ball First Prize Winner, Mixed Media Category (for Diaspora Time Capsule)

Freelance Writer/Illustrator, Belmont, MA and Teaneck, NJ Principal and Director of Publicity, Progressive Book Publicity, Teaneck, NJ Publicity Director, Red Wheel, Weiser & Conari Press, Boston, MA Consulting Editor and Contributor, Cobblestone Magazine, Peterborough, NH

1999-2002 Publicity & Marketing Manager, Hearst Books, Hearst Magazines, New York, NY 1996-1999 Editor, EyeWear Magazine, Cahners/Reed Business Information, New York, NY 1996-1998 Author, ARMENIA: A Rugged Land, an Enduring People, Dillon Press/ Simon &

Schuster, Parsippany, NJ 1994-1995 Marketing Associate, 20/20 and Vision Monday magazines, Jobson Publishing

Corp., New York, NY 1993-1994 Associate Editor, Beverage Media magazine, Beverage Media Corp, New York, NY 1990-1992 Restaurant Reviewer, Paper magazine, Paper Publishing Co., New York, NY 1990-1993 United Nations Correspondent, NYC, The Armenian Weekly newspaper, Watertown, MA 1989-1991 Curatorial Associate, Avanian Art Gallery, New York, NY 1987-1989 Promotion Assistant, Alfred A. Knopf Publishers, Random House, New York, NY WEBSITES

lucinekasbarian.com armeniapedia.org/wiki/Lucine_Kasbarian#Selected_Political_Cartoons armeniapedia.org/wiki/Lucine_Kasbarian#Selected_Articles

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