ISG Newsletter #33 (Fall 2004)
BOOK REVIEW: NEW PERSPECTIVES ON THE ARMENIAN GENOCIDE
Roger W. Smith, Professor Emeritus, College of William and Mary
Books Reviewed:
Taner Akcam. From Empire to Republic: Turkish Nationalism and the Armenian Genocide (Zed Books, 2004)
Yair Auron. The Banality of Denial: Israel and the Armenian Genocide (Transaction Publishers, 2003)
Peter Balakian, The Burning Tigris: The Armenian Genocide and America's Response (HarperCollins, 2003)
Merrill D. Peterson, Starving Armenians: America and the Armenian Genocide, 1915-1930 and After (University of Virginia Press, 2004)
Jay Winter, ed., America and the Armenian Genocide of 1915 (Cambridge University Press, 2003)What new perspectives on the Armenian genocide emerge ninety years later from these five books? Three of them (Balakian, Peterson, Winter) emphasize that the history of the Armenians from the nineteenth century on, and especially since the period beginning with the massacres in 1894, is intimately linked, in numerous ways, with American history. A very different work focuses on the Armenian genocide through the eyes of the perpetrators (Akcam), locating both the mass killing, and Turkey's continuing problems since the establishment of the Republic in 1923, in a fear of dissolution of Turkey by foreign elements, whether external powers or subversives within the country. Auron's work argues that Israel, out of political expediency and fear of diminishing the moral significance of the Holocaust, has moved from an indifference to the Armenian genocide to active denial. Before turning to those works, I want to call attention to a book published almost ninety years ago that still has great relevance for any consideration of the Armenian genocide. In fact, most of the new works draw upon it in a variety of ways; many of its themes are their themes. Ambassador Morgenthau's Story (a new edition was published by Wayne State University Press in 2003) is the classic, contemporary account of the first large-scale genocide of the twentieth century. The power of the book to instruct us even now is intimately connected with not only its truthfulness about the atrocities and the men behind them, but also the story of how American and other diplomats, missionaries, and relief workers did everything they could to end the slaughter and to care for the victims. One sees also the beginnings of an American humanitarian outlook in the creation of and broad support for Near East Relief, which helped to save the lives of thousands of Armenians. Further, Morgenthau reminds us that genocide is a crime against humankind; at a time when too often victim groups are only concerned with their genocides, and even deny that other peoples have been subjected to the ultimate crime, Morgenthau stands as a valuable corrective. Finally, Morgenthau's book provides an incontestable record of the genocide of more than a million Armenians which no amount of denial by successive Turkish governments can erase.
Merrill D. Peterson begins Starving Armenians with an account of Henry Morgenthau's appointment as American Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, the beginning of World War I, and the first reports from Morgenthau to Woodrow Wilson that the annihilation of a people was underway. He then briefly describes the genocide, focuses on relief efforts which began during the war and continued until 1923, vividly depicts the chaos that continued for Armenians after 1918, and discusses the great betrayal, rejection by the American Congress of a mandate over a new Armenian state, resulting in a small and feeble Armenian Republic being incorporated into the Soviet Union in 1920. He concludes with reflections on the ongoing Turkish denial of the genocide and on the Armenian diaspora in the United States. For Peterson, one of the most distinguished historians of American intellectual and political life, modern Armenian history and American history are linked through the diaspora that has become part of American life and the American humanitarian response to the genocide, which he believes, “merits a permanent place in American memory. His themes are treated in greater depth by Balakian but this brief and eloquent book is a tribute to a man who went to Armenia in the Peace Corps as he approached eighty, only to be sent home six weeks later for medical reasons. There is one error in it, however, that must be corrected: the Hitler quotation about "Who remembers the Armenians," has been authenticated beyond a reasonable doubt, but not by the means Peterson cites, "analysis of German cable traffic in 1939."
Whether it is Peterson, Balakian, or the authors represented in Jay Winter's edited volume, America and the Armenian Genocide of 1915, I think that all have one or more goals in common. The desire to preserve an aspect of American history that had all but been forgotten; to promote, on the basis of its past history, a more active involvement by the United States in protecting human rights and preventing genocide; and to suggest that if the Armenian genocide is to be remembered beyond a small group of persons, its history must be seen as part of a wider history, whether that of particular nations, a universal history, or the history of genocide.
All of the books that present an American centered view of the Armenians call attention to the involvement of American missionaries (mainly Protestant) in the Ottoman Empire from the early nineteenth century, their creation of schools, colleges, hospitals, and as needed, providing humanitarian relief and caring for orphans of the massacres. They also focus on heroic figures, especially American diplomats (Morgenthau, Consul Leslie Davis, and others), missionaries who provided both witness and aid under terrible circumstances, and prominent American intellectuals and public figures who from 1894 through 1923 spoke out on behalf of protecting and sheltering Armenians from the atrocities that were decimating them. They also speak about the failures of Congress, in the 1894- 96 period, and the virtual abandonment of the Armenians by Congress after World War I, despite talk about the need to assume a mandate over an enlarged Armenia. President Wilson's failures both during the war and after with regard to the Armenians are discussed extensively, but most point out not only his ineptness with the peace settlement, but a rising tide of isolationism in the Senate.
The essays in America and the Armenian Genocide of 1915 were presented at a conference at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum and the Library of Congress. Despite its title, the first third of the book does not deal directly with American response to the genocide. Sir Martin Gilbert situates the Armenian genocide within the history of genocide in the twentieth century, but it seems more of a listing of atrocities than an interpretation of the events. Jay Winter also attempts to locate genocide in the case of the Armenians and the Holocaust within the context of total war. But he acknowledges that not all genocides stem from total war and not all total war leads to genocide. He leaves out entirely any consideration of how revolution might be related to genocide.
Vahakn Dadrian has a long interpretative essay on how and why the Armenian genocide took place. But he also invokes a questionable idea that should be challenged: the role of impunity. Here he suggests that had the 1894-96 massacres been punished, this would have gone a long way toward deterring the 1915 genocide. Elsewhere he has suggested that had the perpetrators of the genocide been punished, then the Holocaust would not have taken place. The foundation for such arguments is shaky: murderers are seldom deterred by the possibility of punishment; moreover, those who plan to commit genocide may have goals that over-ride the fear of punishment. But if any empirical evidence is needed, how many genocides and crimes against humanity have been committed after the Nuremberg trials and the many lesser trials of Nazi perpetrators?
Many thoughtful and informative essays in the collection, however, speak specifically to the American relationships to the genocide. There are two studies of the failure of President Wilson to secure a mandate over Armenia; another, on the U.S. post-war commissions on Armenia; and a detailed discussion of American diplomatic correspondence during the genocide. In the latter, Rouben Adalian also brings out economic motivations for the genocide, which in part, involved plunder, but also the elimination of an ethnic group from its control of large sectors of the economy. The state declared war, the war propelled the genocide, and the genocide financed the war. There is also an insightful study by Donald Ritchie of how Congress dealt with the Armenian massacres and genocide. "In the many hearings and debates that Congress held on the Armenian Question between the 1890s and 1920s, the legislative branch amply demonstrated its awareness of the Armenian Massacres, and yet other than opening some avenues of immigration it did little to ameliorate the Armenian's plight. Offered an opportunity to engage in an early form of 'nation building,' the United States declined a mandate over Armenia, a decision for which Congress bore the ultimate responsibility."
Two other essays that are richly rewarding are those of Leonard and Moranian. Thomas Leonard's study of the America media's reporting on the genocide indicates that it was largely accurate and made accessible to papers all across the country; further, it helped to mobilize a large public to demand action to stop the killing. In the end, the funds that were raised for the Armenians did save many lives. On the other hand, there was little effect on American policy: no declaration of war against Turkey, no mandate after the war. Jay Winter draws from this a cautionary tale: those who argue that protection of human rights is aided by modern communications should take pause... The paralysis of policy was not a function of ignorance, but of a willful turning away from a fully documented catastrophe."
Susan Moranian's essay on American missionary relief efforts is detailed and shows a chillingly modern transformation of the missionary ethic to an increasingly bureaucratic, businesslike approach to raising funds for humanitarian relief. Hundreds of millions of dollars were raised through efforts initiated by American missionaries; she believes that without these efforts, the Armenians would have disappeared as a people. The relief organizers "incorporated state-ofthe- art organizational skills with the ancient zealousness of the Gospel. That is what made them so potent." They knew how to work the crowds: "They appealed to America's national pride and historic sense of mission globally. They highlighted the nation's special responsibility to the Armenians as well as America's interests in the Middle East. They played on the emotion of guilt and asked, `How can you eat when others are starving?' The appeals also expressed the religious and secular values of charity, altruism, and brotherhood. They reminded the public of the responsibility to help the unfortunate. The promotions also embodied the Social Gospel message that one attains salvation by saving others." The good news is that faith, cold calculation, and hucksterism works.
Peter Balakian's beautifully written and carefully crafted book, The Burning Tigris, addresses all of the themes touched upon by those who approach the Armenian genocide in terms of America's response to it. But he does so with greater depth in most instances and includes material on the massacres in 1894-96 that the other accounts omit.
There are several interrelated themes and narratives in Balakian's book. First, there are the detailed, heartwrenching accounts of the Turkish massacres of some 200,000 Armenians in the 1890s, and of the genocide, beginning in 1915, that claimed the lives of at least a million Armenians. At the same time the author describes the dedication and courage of American diplomats, who tried, with little support from the State Department, to end the carnage. But there is also the story of a broadly based American humanitarian movement that sought to provide aid to the Armenians in their despite condition, and that demanded that the U.S. government protect them from further violence. Balakian, however, shows that by the beginning of the 1920s there was a growing conflict between public opinion, which strongly supported an independent Armenia, and a Congress and White House that had other interests. In his final chapter, he documents Turkey's continuing denial of the Armenian genocide and its efforts, largely successful, to enlist the White House and the State Department in defeating Congressional resolutions that would publicly recognize the genocide. Balakian, in effect, shows both the impact of public opinion and its limitations.
What puzzles me about all of the books that stress the Armenian relief efforts is that a central question is never raised: why, if the Armenians are being subjected to genocide, do the Young Turks allow any distribution of aid to them? When we are told that thousands of Armenians owe their lives to American relief efforts, why did the regime allow this to happen? We need careful reflection about this question and its possible implications. Turkey could argue (speciously): "You see, this just proves that we did all we could to protect the Armenians, even if they were rebels and traitors." My own guess is that allowing what became Near East Relief to operate in Turkey stemmed from three considerations: providing cover for what was actually going on; providing the basis for more lenient treatment in case Turkey lost the war; and keeping the United States out of the war against Turkey. This latter point should not be taken lightly: it was the missionaries who urged President Wilson not to declare war on Turkey; it was the missionaries who initiated the request for massive aid, which they would distribute. But we could also draw a different conclusion: any Armenian was subject to death in the period, but there was no intent to kill all Armenians. Hence, for the reasons given earlier, some could be allowed to receive aid and possibly survive.
The works of Akcam and Auron move away from the American centered approach; they also illuminate the genocide through perspectives that have not yet been discussed. Let me begin with the powerful book by the Turkish historian Taner Akcam. His central argument is that there are deep continuities between the Young Turk regime and the Republic that came into existence in 1923. One of the main elements of this is the forging of Turkish identity from the trauma arising out of "military defeats, territorial losses, national humiliation at the hands of foreign powers," and fear for the very existence of Turkey in a world perceived to be full of foreign and domestic enemies. Both regimes required a strong nationalism and both saw diversity as a threat to national existence. The way the Young Turks dealt with the society was through massacre and ethnic cleansing of "alien" elements; the Republic, on the other hand, imposed a set of taboos that denied the existence of different classes, ethnic groups and cultural differences.
There were also other continuities. The organizers of the Turkish independence movement after World War I were persons who had participated in the genocide; once the Republic came into existence, many of these were given important posts in the new government. Finally, it is, according to Akcam, the connection between the genocide and the Republic that lies at the heart of Turkey's denial and suppression of discussion of the genocide. "The devastation that would ensue if Turks had now to stigmatize as 'murderers and thieves' those whom they are used to regarding as 'great saviors' and 'people who created a nation out of nothing,' is palpable. It seems so much simpler to deny the Genocide completely than to seize the initiative and face the obliteration of ingrained notions about the Republic and Turkish national identity."
National identity is also an element in Yair Auron's work, The Banality of Denial: Israel and the Armenian Genocide. This is a pioneering study of how a people that has itself been subjected to genocide deals with the genocide of another people. The question, in effect, that he asks is: "Who is my neighbor?" His answer is that my neighbor is anyone who has been victimized by genocide: I must acknowledge the historical reality of the crime and teach others about its reality. In so doing, I engage in a "solidarity of suffering." But while every people should stand up for truth, even at the costs of its interests, Auron argues that there is an additional obligation to do so when one's own group has suffered a similar fate. Hence, he examines in great detail how Israel has dealt with the Armenian genocide. The pattern that he traces is one of initial avoidance, then passive denial, and since the 1990s, an active denial by political officials, bureaucrats in the educational system, those presiding over the non-print media, and a growing number of academics who sound, for all the world, like Heath Lowry and the Turkish government. On the other hand, he commends the print media for attempting to raise awareness about the Armenian genocide; puts special emphasis on the principled stand of Yossi Sarid, who, as Education Minister, publicly acknowledged the genocide in 2000, only to be disavowed by the government; and pointed to the efforts of a handful of Israeli scholars to combat denial of the genocide.
Let me give only two quotations about the role of the state of Israel in denial of the Armenian genocide. The first is an example of passive denial, but just barely. A senior official at the Foreign Ministry in 2002 said: "Every time the Armenian issue is discussed, we have to think twice about what name to give it. The Turks complain against anyone who mentions 'Armenian Genocide,' so our stand is that we 'recognize the sufferings of the Armenians,' and try to evade the historical circumstances and the guilty party." Meanwhile, the Israeli government used its influence in the United States to defeat the 2000 Congressional Resolution that would have officially recognized the Armenian genocide. But the following year, active denial became explicit with the statement by Israel's foreign minister, Shimon Peres: "We reject attempts to create a similarity between the Holocaust and the Armenian allegations. Nothing similar to the Holocaust occurred. It is a tragedy what the Armenians went through, but not a genocide." Auron suggests that Israelis in general know little about the Armenian genocide, but to the extent they do, tend to be indifferent. However, the state and its cultural extensions, such as the educational establishment, have moved toward active denial. He attributes this to political expediency and to pressure from within Israel not to "dilute" the moral force of the Holocaust by recognizing other genocides. The argument about expediency speaks for itself (politics is about interests and not truth), but one wishes that Auron had examined the claim that recognizing the Armenian genocide or any other genocide would some how diminish the moral significance of the Holocaust. Is there any empirical evidence that this could result? On the other hand, might not such a recognition have a liberating effect, achieving Auron's vision of victims standing with victims?
Let me conclude with some critical comments that I hope will encourage the author to reconsider some parts of his argument. Genocide is a crime against humankind, thus all persons have an obligation to respond to genocide, not just peoples who have been subjected to it. Jews, Armenians, Cambodians, and Tutsis have no greater obligation than other peoples to recognize the sufferings of other victims. However, I wish that Auron had dealt more with why denial matters. He tends to treat it as a moral issue only, but it has far reaching consequences that extend in many directions.
Finally, his assumption (or is it a moral demand?) that groups that have been victimized will have greater empathy for victims is problematic: trauma may just as easily lead to a fortress mentality in which the focus is on the self and one’s own group. Victimization, in other words, may not lead to a solidarity of suffering, but rather to a diminution of human concern.
The ISG Newsletter is published by the Institute for the Study of Genocide. Helen Fein, Executive Director; Orlanda Brugnola, President.