One Caucasus, but in a Global Pandemic

One Caucasus, but in a Global Pandemic

One Caucasus Festival, Tserakvi, Georgia © Onnik James Krikorian 2021

The One Caucasus Festival has been and gone, but because of COVID-19 it took on a very different format this year. At first, it seemed as though it would be held as it always has been, with musicians from Armenia, Azerbaijan, Georgia, and elsewhere performing in a festival area conceived and constructed by architects from throughout the region and abroad too.

Unfortunately, however, a worsening of the pandemic situation in Georgia meant that all those plans had to be shelved at the very last minute, even though entrance would have required either proof of vaccination or a negative PCR test.

Of course, One Caucasus isn’t just about the music or even the teams compromising Armenian, Azerbaijani, and Georgian citizens working alongside an international team of volunteers. It’s also about a participatory budget for local communities and educational workshops for kids in the villages in the Marneuli district of the Kvemo Kartli region.

Close to Georgia’s borders with Armenia and Azerbaijan, those activities were able to be held regardless of the new restrictions, but something else needed to be done if One Caucasus was to live up to its reputation as ‘the most inspiring festival in the region.’

So, undaunted, the One Caucasus team continued their collaboration started last year with the Georgian National Centre for Disease Control (NCDC) and decided to raise awareness of the importance of vaccination in a country where vaccine-hesitancy remains high. Not only would they launch a competition for young people to make short videos about combatting COVID-19, but they would also take some live music to local villages on a mobile stage while the NCDC would provide a mobile vaccination clinic. 

This was an important decision given how difficult it is for some villagers to travel to hospitals for vaccination in even nearby urban centres. The idea worked out well and on the last weekend of the festival they visited six villages, including the ethnic Armenian-Azerbaijani co-inhabited village of Khojorni. Materials on COVID-19 and the importance of vaccination were distributed in the Armenian, Azerbaijani, and Georgian languages given that the region is made up of all three ethnic groups.

One Caucasus Festival, Tserakvi, Georgia © Onnik James Krikorian 2021

This year’s volunteer team, however, was smaller than in previous years because of the pandemic and travel restrictions so only three could fly in from Azerbaijan and only one was originally from Armenia. But there were, of course, volunteers from Georgia as well as from Poland and Senegal. And despite the small size of this year’s event, there’s no doubt that it was a success and especially because of the vaccination drive. 

Nevertheless, let’s hope it gets back to normal for next year’s edition. It’s one of the few grassroots projects that genuinely not only brings together people from the regions, but also from capital cities and abroad. 

One Caucasus Festival, Tserakvi, Georgia © Onnik James Krikorian 2021

Its aim is to foster intercultural understanding and collaboration so I still live in hope that one day international and local NGOs will seize the opportunity to use the One Caucasus Festival to host their events on the sidelines. With a camping site usually part of the festival it’s a no-brainer for youth in particular. Imagine, spend the daylight hours talking peace and regional integration or cooperation before enjoying live music from Armenian, Azerbaijani, and Georgian bands, as well as other countries, when the sun goes down. 

There are also spaces to screen films or hold other activities.

One Caucasus Festival, Georgia © Onnik James Krikorian 2021

Ultimately, thinking about the One Caucasus Festival that has been running since 2014, peacebuilding stands more of a chance when communities benefit from donor money that instead goes to bureaucratic and often ineffective NGOs, as well as the luxury holiday resorts and hotels where their events are held. Lessons learned from elsewhere are that it is those communities that are directly or indirectly affected by conflict that can make a difference. Give them a stake in elaborating projects that can foster peace rather than continue with what many critics simply call ‘conflict tourism.’ 

Moreover, and like the Tekali Process before it, when you include people from the regions of Armenia, Azerbaijan, and Georgia, there’s also the opportunity to finally spread the message much wider than the narrow and usually exclusive English-speaking elites from the capital cities of all three South Caucasus countries. There’s a place for both, of course, but for now it is the masses, as well as the artists, musicians, environmentalists, and other visionaries, that remain excluded from current conflict-resolution projects.

Yet it is those people that could prove the most credible and effective messengers of all. Roll on One Caucasus 2022.

Sevil Suleymanova, the daughter of Azerbaijani IDPs from Khodjali:

“If our generation cannot find peace then it means that this generation has failed.”

© Onnik James Krikorian 2021

For more information on the One Caucasus Festival and how you can become part of it follow them on Facebook and Twitter.

For more of my coverage of the One Caucasus Festival links to published materials can be found here.

Some Thoughts on Media and Conflict Discourse in the Nagorno Karabakh Conflict

Some Thoughts on Media and Conflict Discourse in the Nagorno Karabakh Conflict

Illustration © Gunduz Agayev – RFE/RL Azadliq Radiosu

“In War,” as the saying goes, “truth is the first casualty.” 

While the source of that quote is often contested, what isn’t is that it applies to every single war fought in living memory and probably before. As almost everyone knows, it was definitely the case during last year’s fighting between Armenia and Azerbaijan over the disputed territory of Nagorno Karabakh. Misinformation and disinformation spread like wildfire, press reports were limited to official information and/or rumour, and it was clear that decades of conflict-sensitive journalism workshops in the region had pretty much amounted to nothing. 

That’s hardly surprising, of course. Ten years ago, for example, I remember a lecturer at the Georgian Institute of Public Affairs (GIPA) in Tbilisi telling me that during a class for Armenian, Azerbaijani, and Georgian MA Journalism students, one exercise was to objectively cover a fictitious war between “Country A” and “Country B.”

“Which country am I?” asked one of the students, apparently confused by the whole point of the exercise. 

More recently, earlier this year, even Deutsche Welle took a critical look at their own work in this area and concluded that such trainings generally don’t work. In the sanitised and controlled environment of a training room, theory is easy, the organisation noted, but in the real world, and especially when conflict turns violent, it’s another matter entirely.

So with that in mind, I was particularly interested in Caucasus Edition’s recent Zoom discussion between young Armenian and Azerbaijani journalists and academics monitoring the online world in particular. Straight off the bat, RFE/RL journalist Aren Melikyan summed up the situation perfectly.

“There is no single truth here,” he said. “[…] The majority of mass media didn’t give people [an] alternative truth. They were recreating the main narratives and stereotypes [and] were becoming part of the same problem, and all the hatred the media was full of definitely had its influence on the societies.”

Sadly, no amount of international donor money will change this. If a journalist believes in the importance of professionalism and objectivity, at least to a certain degree, they will work to those standards – editors, advertisers, and donors permitting – but if they don’t, then the whole idea of training is pointless from the outset. Well, aside from the rosy press releases that will inevitably be written afterwards and the usually always glowing Monitoring and Evaluation reports accepted without question by the donors.

Is it any wonder that nothing changes?

“Without more accurate and unbiased information free from negative rhetoric and stereotypes,” noted a 2010 report by the Caucasus Research Resource Centres (CRRC), “Armenians and Azerbaijanis will continue to see themselves as enemies without common ground. This is a role the media has and continues to play with regards to the conflict over Nagorno Karabakh.” 

The CRRC report also noted that most people generally seek out news and information that simply reinforces their confirmation biases and existing stereotypes and prejudices. That situation continues to exist today, over a decade later, and then there’s the issue of social media.

During the 2020 war, and just as we saw with Trump and Brexit, social media moved in to fill an information vacuum ever increasing in size thanks to a declining trust in the media. That space, of course, wasn’t defined by high quality reports and commentary, but hate speech and misinformation and/or disinformation as well as coordinated campaigns of harassment and intimidation targeting any dissenting voices or journalists and analysts that took a more objective stance.

And even those journalists from Armenia and Azerbaijan that have met and worked together through a multitude of cross-border projects failed to use even those contacts to more accurately report on the war. Again, this isn’t a surprise. Even a decade earlier I remember an RFE/RL Yerevan Bureau journalist asking if I could connect them with their counterparts in the then RFE/RL Baku Bureau. Please note, I don’t work for RFE/RL so it was shocking to discover that no direct albeit internal links for communication existed. 

But it wasn’t just the media that failed during last year’s fighting. Of as much concern was also how most peacebuilding organisations were largely silent. Used to issuing lengthy reports that hardly reach outside narrow academic circles specifically focused on the Karabakh conflict, perhaps they were caught off guard by a new online environment centred around short tweets of less than 280 characters, a few seconds of TikTok video, Instagram photos usually with some militaristic commentary, and graphical memes.

Yet, anyone who has used social media should have known that this was coming. Moreover, those same organisations should have been aware of the communications output of extremist and violent extremist groups, understanding that ethno-nationalists would follow suit soon enough. Certainly, the dogs of war were quick to utilise platforms such as Telegram to sow panic, chaos, and hatred. They understood that social media is as much, if not more, about psychology and emotion than it is about facts.

Again, this is nothing new. The same tactics were already well known during the Trump presidency and the anti-EU Brexit campaign in the UK.

And that isn’t the only problem. Another is that while online news sites have been funded to cover the conflict, they have still not been able to reach a sizeable audience. In many cases we’re talking hundreds rather than thousands, let alone tens of thousands, of views and most of the content is anyway consumed by English-speakers, including those not based in the region or even from it. Consumption of materials in Armenian, Azerbaijani, and Russian on these sites can be even lower.

Social media strategies remain non-existent, and content-generation for a mainly visually driven online environment remains at a bare minimum at best or is totally absent at worst. Facebook ‘likes’ and shares are insignificant, largely down to none of these actors ever engaging with a potential audience, and while the platforms have evolved, approaches to the dissemination of content have not. In fact, even saying they were stuck in the 2000s would be giving them the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps the 1990s?

Ultimately, in this day and age, most media consumers do not seek out sources. Instead, information comes to them, whether through algorithms, organic peer to peer sharing, or a combination of both. This is so obvious that it’s inexplicable why donor-driven projects have not adapted accordingly. It’s not as if any of this is new, after all.

Indeed, five or six years ago I met with the European Union delegation in Tbilisi and pointed this out to them, also warning that social media was likely to be hijacked by nationalists sooner or later. To my pleasant surprise, they were receptive to this and even asked me to draw up a list of recommendations, which I did. However, they warned, it was ultimately up to those organisations subcontracted by the EU to run their Nagorno Karabakh project. Their response was predictably depressing. 

“Social Media is not rocket science,” I was told, and that was that. Forget the fact that most successful social media campaigns have strategies based on a combination of behavioural science, psychology, an understanding of emotions, and platform-specific, often custom-generated content while also budgeting for an actual social media team. Instead, those unfamiliar with social media thought that simply creating a Facebook page and opening a Twitter account was all that they needed to do.

Sadly, many media organisations in the region think the same. Which brings me finally to the end statement made in the Caucasus Edition Zoom discussion. 

“[…] Only about 10 years ago when social media became really a major thing, the conversation was exactly the opposite,” said Imagine Dialogue co-founder Phil Gamaghelyan. “We were all extremely positive thinking this is it. Information got democratised and this is going to help us break through the borders and all the isolation that Armenians and Azerbaijanis have and we’ll have a whole new era of peace. Now we are 180 degrees the other end […].”

Well, I take exception to this because some of us did warn that this would happen. Evgeny Morozov did so in 2011,  albeit in the larger context of the Internet, and as someone who first pioneered the use of social media in connecting Armenians and Azerbaijanis online, I also did that very same year and have consistently done so in the decade since. In fact, when I was the Caucasus Editor of Global Voices, all the articles I wrote on the role of social media in conflict resolution in the early 2010s always ended with that warning.

“[…] building on its coverage of citizen media during the 2008 Russia-Georgia war, Global Voices has since established its own special coverage page, Caucasus Conflict Voices, summarizing some of the new conversations taking place between Armenian and Azerbaijani bloggers. true, they might still be a minority, with the use of such tools still in its infancy, but until recently such communication never existed at all. It now remains to be seen whether these developments continue or if those opposed to peace will also utilize them to drown out such voices.”

 

Overcoming negative stereotypes in the South Caucasus, World Bank Development Report 2011, Onnik James Krikorian.

But it probably doesn’t matter. 

The whole idea of a bottom-up peace process has failed and I don’t suppose anyone expects it to work any better this time round. If the situation is to improve then there will have to be a top-down process as well, and likely even taking centre stage. Indeed, the lack of any political will at the top in the past has been one of the main reasons why neither societies were ever prepared for peace and why the media naturally reflected the prevailing mood in both Armenia and Azerbaijan.

But, on a brighter note, if there is going to be such a top-down approach now then the broadcast media might finally start to play a more important and productive role. Not only does it have the technical proficiency and capacity to create more compelling content, but it can also reach hundreds of thousands rather than just a handful of individuals stuck in the same online bubbles that they’ve always been, away from and outside the interest of the masses. 

Nevertheless, the Caucasus Edition Zoom discussion was welcome, but it will need to be a lot more self-reflective and self-critical if anything is to improve by then. 

New Site Getting There, Though With Archive Materials

New Site Getting There, Though With Archive Materials

Stepanakert, Nagorno Karabakh © Onnik James Krikorian 1994

My first website went online in late 1994. Working at The Independent newspaper on Old Street in London at the time, I would meet up with researcher friends at the University College of London (UCL), a few tube stops away, for a beer after work and one night they didn’t want to go to the pub just yet. Instead, they wanted to show me the World Wide Web, something we take for granted today, but at that time was only available to a select few.

I was as excited as they were.

It was clear that this was the future of the media, although most media consultants would dismiss me by saying it was simply a fad and the CD-Rom would see it die an early death would you believe, and so I decided to learn HTML and built my first site. As I had come back from Nagorno Karabakh earlier that year for The Independent, I decided that this would be a good topic to base my first site around. In retrospect, it was probably the first proper website on the Armenia-Azerbaijan conflict.

Back then, little did I know that in 2009-2011 I would inadvertently end up pioneering the use of social media and blogs to bring Armenians and Azerbaijanis together online once Facebook became all the rage in the South Caucasus. NGOs working in the region were eager to use the contacts I made to include them in their own projects, but still failed to harness the potential of the online world properly. They sadly fail to do so even now.

But fast forward to today and we now pretty much take the web for granted, and even if web pages, including those of many media outlets, now largely play second fiddle to social media platforms and mobile phone apps. Yet, what must be something like the fifth manifestation of my original web site, although two of those were purely blog-based, seems worth spending time on.

However, having been reported on the South Caucasus for over 20 years now, it’s going to take a long time to migrate everything over. Basically, this is still very much a work in progress.

Kapan Psychiatric Dispensary, Armenia © Onnik James Krikorian 2004

In the meantime, some content is up. From photographs from Nagorno Karabakh in 1994  to attempts to populate the strategic town of Lachin between Armenia and the disputed territory situated within Azerbaijan, and Landmine and UXO clearance in and around the contested space, there are also archive materials covering poverty, psychiatric institutions and residential children’s homes in Armenia as well as of attempts to reintegrate the latter in neighbouring Georgia.

There’s still plenty to upload,  of course. For example, this 2002 interview with Thomas de Waal even before Black Garden: Armenia and Azerbaijan Through Peace and War was published, and dozens more articles from 2000-2003 than can for now be found in a book of my work as well as one I wrote and photographed for UNICEF in Armenia in 2005. Later work is mainly available online on various publications, but I’ll somehow include them too once I get an articles and analysis section up.

There have been a few lulls in my journalistic activity, however. The whole of 2008 was particularly hectic given the bitterly disputed presidential election in Armenia that ended with 10 people dead and a state of emergency declared. After having extensively covered the 2003 presidential election, I had anyway predicted that 2008 vote would end in bloodshed so that was the year that fatigue began to set in, especially as the year ended with the August 2008 Russia-Georgia War.

Russian Military Roadblock on the road to Gori, Georgia
© Onnik James Krikorian 2008

I especially wrote less from 2013 until 2017 because, apart from blogging, I was mainly fixing for the likes of the BBC, Al Jazeera English, Wall Street Journal, and National Geographic, while also training journalists from Armenia, Azerbaijan, and Georgia as well as the breakaway regions of Abkhazia, Nagorno Karabakh, and South Ossetia for the European Union Monitoring Mission (EUMM), Deutsche Welle, and Free Press Unlimed (FPU). I also organised the largest gathering of journalists from Armenia, Azerbaijan, and Georgia for France’s Canal France International in Tbilisi in 2013. 

Following that, from 2013 onwards, much of my time was spent as a member of expert working groups and panels on Preventing and Countering Violent Extremism (P/CVE) for the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), United Nations Security Council Counterterrorism Committee (UNCTED), United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNOCD), Global Counterterrorism Forum (GCTF), Hedayah, and the International Center for Counterterrorism (ICCT)-The Hague.

In fact, from the end of 2016 to the end of 2018, nearly all my time was spent working multiple contracts with the OSCE’s Transnational Threat Department/Action against Terrorism (TNTD/ATU) for their Leaders against Intolerance and Violent Extremism (LIVE) project. In 2018 alone, I made eight trips to Kosovo alone along with frequent work trips to Vienna, Warsaw, and The Hague.

That’s not to say I was idle with journalism and photojournalism, of course, but more that the topic changed. I especially wrote on the problem of radicalisation in the South Caucasus – from the counterterrorism operation against ISIS operatives seeking refuge in Tbilisi to the growing problem of far-right and neo-Nazi radicalisation in Georgia.

There were also plenty of photo stories shot for the likes of Radio Free Europe / Radio Liberty, video reports for BBC Azerbaijan, and articles for Osservatorio Balcani e Caucaso, including continuing work on ethnic Armenian and Azerbaijani coexistence  in Georgia, especially in co-inhabited villages, as well as the rich musical diversity of the South Caucasus. Most recently, I also started a series of podcasts recorded during and after the 2020 Karabakh War.

And once the COVID-19 pandemic finally ends, I might even get round to finishing off yet another personal project – a documentary film on the underground metal and punk music scene in Tbilisi. So, until then, I’ll attempt to add more old content to this new website while also hoping to start writing new articles as well as shoot even more photo stories and video reports. There’s also one project that I’ve been working on since the end of last November, but for now it has to remain under wraps.

Just to say, however, that it’s coming… 

Some Thoughts On The Post-2020 Armenia-Azerbaijan Conflict Environment

Some Thoughts On The Post-2020 Armenia-Azerbaijan Conflict Environment

The Road to Karabakh, Siunik Region, Armenia © Onnik James Krikorian 2000

With the first anniversary of the 2020 war in Nagorno Karabakh approaching it seems timely to consider where Armenia and Azerbaijan are in the post-war environment. The answer to that question won’t surprise anyone. The situation is not good. Despite some cautious optimism that last year’s 9-point ceasefire agreement might finally usher in a genuine peace process, it seems more likely that time is running out for the substantive developments that were expected during the initial 5-year deployment of Russian peacekeepers in the disputed territory to happen.

There is also some confusion surrounding Moscow’s presence in Karabakh. Already disliked by many in Azerbaijan, others such as former Karabakh negotiator Gerard Libaridian warn that their stay is likely not to exceed 10 years, assuming that a clause requesting that they leave towards the end of 2025 isn’t triggered. There is no mechanism for renewing their mission past 2030, he says, although many, of course, are skeptical that Russia will leave regardless of what it says on paper.

Indeed, the presence of some kind of peacekeeping mission in Karabakh seems necessary for the foreseeable future if its ethnic Armenian population is to remain. While the 7 regions retaken by Azerbaijan or returned by Armenia following the 2020 war are no longer the main obstacle to the peace process that they once used to be, the sensitivity surrounding the discussion of Karabakh’s status, if it continues to be pushed, remains one that will forever keep the sides apart.

Yerevan insists that the only status acceptable is Karabakh’s independence from Azerbaijan while Baku refuses to accept any discussion about status whatsoever. All this while Libaridian says that it will anyway end up in the distant future as something similar to what the Ter-Petrossian administration resigned itself to in 1997-98. According to scholars familiar with the first president’s administration, that meant a significantly high degree of autonomy.

Failure to reach a compromise peace deal back then would only lead to a weaker position later, Ter-Petrossian argued. Two decades later, Libaridian now refers only to some kind of “non-territorial cultural autonomy,” similar to that in place for the Armenian community in Istanbul, as a possible outcome.

Indeed, one thing that has always been ignored in the ongoing dispute is that the principles of territorial integrity and self-determination needn’t be incompatible. What are incompatible are the maximalist interpretations of those terms by the various sides. In reality, self-determination comes in various forms from internal self-determination (different levels of local autonomy) to external self-determination (actual independence).

Imagine Dialogue’s Phil Gamaghelyan has already referred to various models of cultural and political autonomy citing the example of South Tyrol and the Aaland Islands. However, they both require much higher levels of democratisation than can be found in the region. He also talks about Northern Cyprus as the most optimistic intermediate option for however long it will take to resolve humanitarian issues, transitional justice, and other pressing matters, and only with the absence of any threat of military confrontation. 

Indeed, it is also unlikely that the ethnic Armenians in Karabakh would agree to anything less if their rights can’t be protected, and that doesn’t seem likely at present or in the foreseeable future either. Arman Grigoryan notes in a discussion with Emin Milli that rhetoric and actions several months after the ceasefire agreement has only reinforced this perception among Armenians.

In order for that to change, the environment, as well as the necessary requirements needed to create it, has to be transformed radically. It’s why some of us believe that Karabakh’s foreseeable future will resemble Northern Cyprus at best or Abkhazia and South Ossetia at worst. As a result, some argue that it is better to leave all discussion on status until such a time when a more positive environment can exist after years, if not decades, of confidence-building measures, people-to-people contact, and trade.

But there is another worst-case scenario that represents how markedly different Karabakh is from those other conflicts too. Unlike Northern Cyprus, Karabakh does not have a coast and nor does it operate flights to and from the territory under its control. It also lacks a sizeable border with a powerful military security guarantor such as the Russian Federation as is the case with Abkhazia and South Ossetia.

Instead, now having lost control over Kelbajar and Lachin especially, Karabakh is connected to Armenia only by the narrow “Lachin Corridor,” and as per the 2020 ceasefire agreement, a new route bypassing the town itself is already under construction by a Turkish company. Karabakh, quite simply, is not viable  without international security guarantees and establishing and improving relations with Baku. But so far, unless there is backchannel diplomacy taking place which isn’t being reported, the sides don’t appear to be talking.

Meanwhile, the de facto authorities in Karabakh note that over 80 percent of the disputed territory’s water comes from outside the former Nagorno Karabakh Autonomous Oblast (NKAO) itself, i.e. from Azerbaijan proper, so it is not difficult to imagine a situation where competition for water and other natural resources will increase as the seven regions surrounding NKAO are resettled by returning Azerbaijani IDPs as well as others.

It is therefore quite possible that at some point water will be diverted to meet the needs of those new Azerbaijani communities living outside what remains of the NKAO rather than the ethnic Armenians remaining within, all the while taking place against a backdrop of climate change and fears that future wars will be fought over water. Last year, a few months before the 2020 war, the International Crisis Group (ICG) made a strong argument for cooperation over water resources rather than competition. 

The same is true with Karabakh’s electricity-generation capacity given that most of it came from hydroelectric power stations in areas that are now no longer under Armenian control. Taken together, it is difficult to consider Karabakh a viable or sustainable entity in any form until and unless there is an improvement in relations – assuming that both Armenia and Azerbaijan actually want that to happen.

Delimiting and demarcating the Armenia-Azerbaijan border also remains an issue, and tensions remain high on a new Line of Contact (LoC). Armenia seems reluctant to do this given that it would effectively mean recognizing the territorial integrity of Azerbaijan, thus taking independence off the table once and for all. Others, however, note that this would at least transform the conflict away from an interstate one to a minority-majority issue within Azerbaijan itself.

This again means that Stepanakert and Baku need to talk, but developments since the 2020 war, however, aren’t exactly inspiring any confidence that they will.

The opening of the “Victory Park” of captured Armenian military equipment in Baku has certainly not helped, and failure to find a solution to the issue of Armenian Prisoner of Wars (POWs) in Azerbaijan keeps wounds open in Armenia. Meanwhile, the emergence of several ultra-nationalist armed militias in Armenia raises additional concerns. One of them has even reportedly stated that it “will not allow the establishment of dialogue between Armenia and Azerbaijan and […] the normalization of relations between peoples.”

Yet, unblocking the region in terms of trade and transport links, including connecting Azerbaijan through Armenia to Nakhichevan, but without Armenia relinquishing any sovereignty, could be a positive move, but it is anybody’s guess when that might occur or how ultra-nationalist forces would respond to such a development. One security consultancy firm in the UK has already warned of possible attacks on critical infrastructure by informal armed units.

For now, therefore, or at least in terms of implementing the 2020 9-point ceasefire agreement, the main issue at hand is to keep ethnic Armenians in Karabakh, a daunting task given the impracticality of the current environment. And time really is running out. Whether the peacekeeping mission remains in Karabakh longer than 2025 matters not if there is no water, electricity, or trade to sustain a population that is likely to decrease in the future. Libaridian notes that it is in Russia’s interest in making sure this does not happen, but with access to Karabakh more limited than it ever has been, it will be difficult.

In a recent Groong podcast with Emil Sanamyan and Areg Danagoulian, both noted that in the first few years of the Karabakh conflict of the late 1980s to early 1990s, Azerbaijan made the continued existence of ethnic Armenians within its borders contingent on whether any ethnic Azerbaijanis remained within the borders of Armenia. Obviously, they no longer do and so Baku now likely views ethnic Armenians remaining in Karabakh contingent on the demarcation of the Armenia-Azerbaijan border and the establishment of the route across Syunik connecting it to Nakhichevan.

“Open borders are better than closed borders,” says Sanamyan.

And unless there is progress on border demarcation and unblocking regional transport links it will be increasingly difficult for Karabakh Armenians to remain past 2025 let alone 2030. And if they were to leave, then that would not bode well for Armenia-Azerbaijan relations or regional stability in the South Caucasus.

Cameraman Dies After Tbilisi Pride Attack, Shame Movement Protests Resume in Tbilisi

Cameraman Dies After Tbilisi Pride Attack, Shame Movement Protests Resume in Tbilisi

Several media companies lay down their cameras and microphones outside the State Chancellery in Tbilisi to protest the death of Pirveli TV cameraman Aleksandre Lashkarava © Onnik James Krikorian 2021

 As if the situation following attempts to hold a Pride Week in Tbilisi couldn’t get any worse, yesterday they did when news surfaced that a TV cameraman that was attacked by a far-right mob had died. While the government denies that Aleksandre Lashkarava’s death was due to his injuries, instead implying that he instead died from an overdose, many instead link it to the failure of the government to protect both the LGBT-rights organisation Tbilisi Pride and journalists attempting to cover their 1-5 July Pride Week.

International criticism of the government’s handling of events on the 5th July, and especially by Georgian Prime Minister Irakli Garibashvili, has been severe and there are also calls for him to resign. Rather than do that, however, Garibashvili has instead added fuel to the fire by making incendiary statements about both Tbilisi Pride and groups such as the Shame Movement, one of the groups protesting against the recent violence.

The ultra-conservative populist Levan Vasadze, widely seen as being being instrumental in organising the violence, accused US Ambassador Kelly Degnan of being responsible for Lashkarava’s death while in response she implied that the Georgian businessman was directly or indirectly linked to Russia. Many consider that both Vasadze’s and Garibashvili’s words could be taken as further incitement to more violence from far-right and other groups.

Media, activists, and citizens yesterday rallied outside parliament to protest the violence that left dozens of journalists injured and possibly one dead. Some photos below.