YEREVAN, Armenia “”mdash; On July 4th Americans celebrate the
signing of the original document that sparked and symbolizes the
fight for U.S. independence. It is the celebration of a
people’s independence from the oppressive rule of a foreign
government.
But on the opposite side of the globe, in a land-locked country
called Armenia and in its immediate and distant neighboring
countries, there is a different type of independence that cannot
yet be celebrated. It is the individual’s independence from
the oppressive rule of his own government.
The fall of the Soviet Union gave the various countries of
Eastern Europe the national independence that is necessary for a
strong society, but that did not guarantee the individual
independence necessary for the strong citizen.
This is the unfortunate reality that I have come to accept (but
not agree with) during the course of my stay in Armenia where facts
of family and heritage bring me every summer. Armenia, a small
country between the Black and Caspian seas, is the historic
homeland of Mt. Ararat, where Noah’s Ark is said to have
landed. Its people have survived genocide at the hands of the
Ottoman Turkish government and oppression in Soviet gulags. But it
often appears that the Armenian people might not survive the
corruption and thuggery of its government ““ a government run
by a terrible president, adjudicated by a crooked justice system
and sponsored by the mafia.
I believe strongly however, that a sense of, or want for freedom
is fundamental to human nature. So on the 4th of July, at 6
“o’clock”, I set out on my mission to find
freedom in Armenia.
My younger sister and I picked up my friend Ruben, a tall,
dry-humored law student, and went to a play named “David of
Sassoon Copperfield,” which satirized the fact that Armenians
like to believe, if only jokingly, that all important people are
Armenians.
The play revolved around the imagining that David Copperfield
the magician was in reality David of Sassoon, an Armenian folk
hero. There was a bit of freedom there, but surely there was more
to be found.
So we took a 20-minute drive to Ararat golfing range where a
prominent Armenian American family was hosting an Independence Day
celebration. The gathering was complete with hamburgers, hotdogs,
jazz, U.N. and U.S. ambassadors and late-night fireworks. Freedom
could be felt here too. But was it a bit forced?
After dropping my sister back at home, Ruben and I met up with
some friends at Armenia’s striking Opera House, which is
surrounded on all sides with booming cafes and outdoor restaurants.
It is the heart of Armenia’s nightlife.
At midnight, hundreds of people gathered around the projection
TV of one of those cafes to watch the European Cup soccer
championships between Portugal and Greece. The Armenian people are
wholly different from Americans in their approach to sports.
Instead of rooting for the underdog, Armenians cheer for the
favored team. Though Greece and Armenia share a common history and
culture (which is why I was rooting for them), the viewers at first
cheered on the Portuguese. But time would change that.
Almost an hour into the match, Greece scored the only goal of
the game. The reaction of the crowd was indescribable, but
I’ll describe it anyway. It was as if, for that moment,
nothing else mattered or existed. It was as if for that moment
those Armenians were bound neither to state nor shady laws. It was
as if for that moment everything was free in Armenia. In the
victory of a foreign team, the Armenians of the Opera House saw a
reason to celebrate.
Even the Portuguese fans now put their glasses with ours and
made toasts. To Greece. To Armenia. To Independence. Ah, sweet
independence.
In the first hours of the new day, we walked the streets of
Armenia which at night seem like they come from a Disneyland
ride.
We ended up at Republic Square, the cross-section of several
major streets and the site of government buildings, banks, water
fountains and the Armenia Marriott.
At the center of the square, dozens of people had gathered with
Greek and Armenian flags. The Syrian-Armenian Hovik, who was the
big Portugal guy at our viewing at the Opera, led the Greek fans in
a chant and run around the square.
Overhead, a full moon peaked at the Armenians through a clouded
sky. It saw scores of cars circling around the center strip and
honking horns, a group of winners and more winners singing anthems
and yelling in joy and a philosophical author who had found what he
was looking for.
I knew that the next day Armenia would be dismayed again. But in
that moment, I did not care. For while the United States celebrated
independence on one continent, Armenia experienced the exact same
thing on another.
It celebrated the most important meaning of Independence Day
““ the independence of the individual.
What will happen to these lonely countries here on the other
side of the world, I do not pretend to know. But as long as there
is hope and a will to be free, freedom will be.
Hovannisian is a second-year history and philosophy student.
E-mail him at ghovannisian@media.ucla.edu. Send general comments to
viewpoint@media.ucla.edu.