Let Us End the Mourning and the Wailing: Anna Hakobyan

At the moment of treason, there is death; the relationships that previously existed between two arbitrary subjects die. This was written by Anna Hakobyan, the wife of Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan, on her Facebook page.

“Treason is death. At the moment of treason, there is death; the relationships that existed die between two arbitrary subjects. And what is dead must be buried; otherwise, it will rot. When treason occurs between spouses, people begin to argue over who was to blame, seeking causal relationships and, in the vast majority of cases, simply drifting apart. In this way, they punish each other and simultaneously search for new relationships, hoping that it will bring them happiness.

In all the noise of blaming each other, however, they forget to record the death and bury the deceased. Thus, everyone carries their dead and goes into new relationships, looking for new happiness, which is never found. Our centuries-old history attests to this.

Because there is no happiness for the homeland without its children, and there is no happiness for the children without their homeland. Therefore, one day, we must finally recognize the relationship between us and our homeland as dead, bury the five-thousand-year-old corpse, and allow the possibility for the birth of new, loyal relationships and new happiness. This means to stop the noise—who is to blame, Paul or Peter, or perhaps Bartholomew is more guilty.

The former were to blame for plundering the country for 30 years, or the present ones are to blame for not filling the pit we all have dug for 30 years in just two years, thus leading us all to fall into it. The ally was to blame for not arriving; no, the enemy was to blame for having more allies, the international community was to blame for being indifferent, European standards are to blame for being dual, big countries are to blame for not providing weapons, the small ones are also to blame for not having weapons to give, even the polar bears of the Arctic are to blame for disappearing; it is the fate of the Armenian that is to blame, it is the backward thinking that is to blame, and as a result, it is our destiny that is to blame.

As for me? What about me? I was a deputy, I was a minister, I was a governor, I was a diplomat, I was a businessman, I was a professor, I was a doctor, I was a teacher, I was a translator, I was an artist, I was a programmer, I was a PR specialist, I was a talent, I was a genius; we were more necessary in the background. What happened? I was organizing fundraising on the sidewalks of other countries, I was writing letters to international organizations day and night, I was gathering cigarettes and cookies for the boys, I was devising thermal devices, I was ensuring tents and blankets for our heroes, I was sending clothes and shoes for the families of the brave boys by truck, I was organizing shipments of medicines on boats, I was sending weapons by planes, I was organizing meetings in other countries demanding attention from foreigners, I was protesting, I was tearing flags, I was throwing eggs at embassies, I was dancing the Kochari, I was expressing pain day and night.

None of us had sleep, no rest, we neither ate nor drank; we were doing the possible and impossible for the brave boys and our homeland. My son was just a toddler; I had hidden him in a closet; my husband was the only breadwinner in the house—if something happened to him, how would we live? My son has a problem with his spine; my son’s appendix had just been removed; my tooth was hurting, and my toe was aching. But if that door were closed, we wouldn’t have this many casualties. If those 100 generals hadn’t been traitors, if those 1000 soldiers hadn’t been dilettantes, if they hadn’t spread panic at the front, if they hadn’t been afraid, if they hadn’t fled, if the soldier had had the weapon, if they had fired, if we had called in time, if we had asked in time...

Treason is death. We must record that death and bury the dead. Even if what is dying is the relationship. When our loved one passes away, we do not leave them unburied and move on. We hand them over to the earth, but we do not leave them. We continue to love them, perhaps we love them even more; we continue to miss them, perhaps we miss them even more; we keep in touch, perhaps we communicate even more—building a new relationship, a new plane. We should not be afraid; we never forget.

This is us and our homeland. We love ourselves as we are; we love our relationships, even if they have died, but we must bury those relationships and give the possibility of new births. Otherwise, the dead rots, spreading a thick stench around, destroying any bud that could sprout and bear fruit, any cell that could fertilize and give new life, any element that could create new energy.

How should we bury? Let us stop the mourning and the wailing, the crying and the groaning, the self-deprecating mantras became empty slogans since time immemorial, the circulation of political resolutions constructed upon our fears, the hollow glass toasts—these have never brought consolation, never softened the pain, never concealed the guilt, and never changed reality. We must bury all these, just as a mother buries her 19-year-old son. We must give birth to new songs, new toasts, new lyrics, new resolutions, new life, and a new reality. A new relationship with our homeland—loyal relationships, joyful relationships,” she wrote.