In my very first year in Toronto, the same year I started my dry cleaning delivery job in our building, Indian-looking faces were quite visible in our neighborhood. They looked Indian to me. I had seen so many Bollywood films in my childhood, that I could tell these people and the way they dressed could only be Indian. All of a sudden, my school and building were full of them and a wave of violent racist activities infested the city. Some of these immigrants got beaten up, hassled, mimicked because of their accent and in a couple of cases, were pushed down the subway(metro) tracks. Many of the locals used to call them ‘Paki’s, a very derogatory term for Pakistanis…almost like ‘negro’ for African people or ‘wap’ for Italians.

The sad fact was that most people did not know that these immigrants had nothing to do with Pakistan. It was Idi Amin’s most brutal era, and he had kicked out all the Southeast Asian population of Uganda overnight. They had lived there for generations, originally moved there because of British colonialism. Now they had come as refugees to Toronto and for the average ignorant Canadian, they presented a new opportunity to express their racist qualms with immigration. They hated the way these newcomers looked, dressed, and cooked their spicy food. Added on top, they lived in crowds…too many people in little spaces. They also spoke with a strange accent. All of a sudden everyone felt free to tell a ‘Paki’ joke. It was all out of cultural ignorance. Ignorance brings suspicion and fear. And fear brings hatred and racist intolerance.

To tell you the truth, every time I delivered the dry cleaning, I also used to get annoyed by the heavy smell of fried spicy food that overtook the hallways of some floors where they lived. But it was just a passing annoyance. I still knocked on their doors and collected clothes. I also spoke to many of them to such a point that eventually I understood their tragic story in Uganda. Maybe it was because of a tiny familiarity with them through all the Indian films I had seen that made me different from the typical Canadian. Who knows? Maybe also it is because I have hardly had any problem with who people are or where they come from.

But I do not want to wrap up this writing with a sour note about hate and bigotry. I began at the top talking about moving to a new country and making silly mistakes because of unfamiliarity with culture. That’s me in my first year of university. There was a student called France that I liked secretly. We had spoken a couple of times and she was cute. One morning we sat together on the bus to university. We were chatting casually and at one point she said to me, ‘happy Valentines’ and then, taking out a card from her school bag, she added, ’do you want to be my valentine’? I did not know what she meant but somehow, I said ‘sure’. Now, I knew that Valentines Day was for couples. But that was all because I had never had a girlfriend. So, I had no clue what entailed accepting to be someone’s valentine. I was waiting for her to enlighten me. Because I was confused, I was speechless and a silence clouded over us. As the bus got closer and closer to our stop, France’s cheerful mood disappeared slowly. She was not smiling any more. As the bus stopped, she got off the bus and left without a word. I knew something was totally wrong. Some days later when I told a friend about that day, he laughed hard and told me that I was such a weirdo. Apparently, I was supposed to invite her out on a romantic date that night because she had chosen me to be her Valentine…she liked me. Needless to say, France never spoke to me after that day. She must have thought I was such an idiot!

The investigation is based on “content”

According to a decision dated September 11, 2026, by the Ankara 4th Criminal Judgeship of Peace, the basis for the investigation consists of content published on Kaos GL’s website and social media accounts.

The Ankara Chief Public Prosecutor’s Office alleged that “posts containing obscenity” had been published on these accounts and that the content had been made available in a manner that could be seen by children.

Based on this allegation, an investigation was launched under Article 226 of the Turkish Penal Code, which regulates the crime of “obscenity.”

The decision also cited as grounds the fact that the content under investigation was published under the umbrella of the Kaos GL Association, through the association’s official website and social media accounts.

The prosecution requested that the matter also be assessed in terms of violations of the Associations Law, arguing that the posts had been made “through the activities of a civil society organization established under the umbrella of the association, using the association’s official websites and social media accounts.”

The judgeship authorized the seizure of evidence, photographs, and printed materials related to the investigation if any were found. The decision also provided for the examination of suspects’ desktop and laptop computers, mobile phones, tablets, portable storage devices, CDs and DVDs, and other digital materials. It further authorized the seizure of the devices if their passwords could not be cracked or access to the data could not be obtained.

The Istanbul operation also referred to the investigation document

At the same time, a simultaneous operation was carried out at numerous addresses in the Beyoğlu and Şişli districts of Istanbul by teams from the Istanbul Provincial Police Department and Provincial Gendarmerie Command, coordinated by the Istanbul Chief Public Prosecutor’s Office. Searches were conducted at various locations, including nightclubs and massage parlors in Taksim, Cihangir, and along İstiklal Avenue.

According to KaosGL, the investigation document concerning the operation that targets the Kaos GL Association also refers to this operation conducted by the Istanbul Chief Public Prosecutor’s Office.

Access-blocking orders were issued the same day

On the day of the operation targeting the Kaos GL Association, an order dated September 12, 2026, issued by the Istanbul 7th Criminal Judgeship of Peace (Decision No. 2026/9559) blocked access to the websites and social media accounts belonging to numerous LGBTİ+ associations and activists, as well as those of Kaos GL.

Sources: KaosGL, bianet, T24.

While Özge Akyüz, a lawyer of CİSST, shared current statistics from Turkey and around the world; Dr. Herlinda Enriquez Rubio Hernández, faculty member at the Autonomous University of San Carlos in Mexico (UACM) and author of the book Prison and Gender: The Law and Unwritten Rules of Women's Prisons, offered participants insights into the “invisible” world of women's prisons based on years of fieldwork. Interpreter Banu Karakaş bridged the language barrier between participants and Dr. Hernández through consecutive interpretation during the event.

The reality of female prisoners in numbers

Opening the webinar, lawyer Özge Akyüz stated that penal systems are designed with men as the baseline, noting: "Women have been rendered invisible both because of their smaller numbers and patriarchal policies. Yet, women’s prison experience differs from men's in many ways and entails unique needs."

The data shared by Akyüz highlights an increase at both the global and local levels. Worldwide, more than 740,000 women and girls are in prison. Approximately 19,000 children are growing up in prison environments with their mothers. Since 2020, the growth rate in the number of female prisoners has reached nearly three times that of male prisoners.

According to Akyüz, there are over 20,000 women in Turkish prisons, making up roughly 5 percent of the total inmate population. Over the past 25 years, the number of female prisoners in Turkey has surged by 411 percent, positioning Turkey as one of the countries with the fastest-growing female inmate population.

Akyüz emphasized that women's specific needs must be taken into consideration and alternative sentencing methods to imprisonment should be developed, particularly for non-violent offenses.

Differences between female and male prisoners

Dr. Herlinda Enriquez Rubio Hernández shared that before beginning her research, she had assumed male and female prisoners lived under similar conditions, but the reality in the field was completely different. According to Dr. Hernández’s observations, key distinctions exist between women's and men's prisons, including caretaking responsibilities, the economic burden, and internal punishment systems among inmates.

Women remain caregivers even in prison

According to Dr. Hernández's observations, female relatives (mothers, wives, partners) visiting male prisoners take full care of them by bringing food and laundry; however, the situation is the exact opposite for female prisoners. Women remain in the role of caregivers even while behind bars. By sending the work they produce inside to the outside, they try to support their families and maintain their caregiving relationships.

The economic burden falls on women's shoulders

While prisons are among the most expensive living environments in the world, the economic burden also rests on women's shoulders. Women give the money they earn from working inside to relatives who visit them. Dr. Hernández states that the underlying reason for this is the fear that "If I don't give them this money, they will stop visiting me." For male prisoners, by contrast, visitors provide financial support to the inmates

Three different systems of rules in Mexican prisons

Stating that the order in women's prisons cannot be explained solely by official regulations, Dr. Hernández identified three concurrently operating systems inside. First, the official rules established by the state; second, the unofficial de facto rules created by guards through their practices; and third, the unwritten rules developed among female prisoners to preserve their autonomy.

Hernández explains this third system of moral values developed by women through Carol Gilligan's "ethics of care" framework: in women's moral orientation, protecting and nurturing life, as well as sustaining relationships of care, are always top priority.

According to Dr. Hernández's account, in the inmate-led system established among female prisoners in Mexico, the harshest punishments are imposed for actions that breach trust, such as deceit, betrayal, and child abuse. Among male prisoners, however, the most severe sanctions revolve around financial and economic transactions. Furthermore, while the code of conduct in women's prisons excludes capital punishment/execution, extrajudicial executions still occur in male prisons despite being prohibited.

Slavery-level labor

Stating that the legal framework in Mexico offers highly impressive rights on paper, Dr. Hernández noted that in practice, however, there is severe labor exploitation, describing it with these words:

"During my research, I asked a female prisoner working in cleaning about her pay. She told me she received 80 pesos per month. With that amount, you can only buy a single beverage in Mexico today. Even though women know this is exploitation at a slavery level, they continue to work under these harsh conditions simply so that a record stating ‘worked while imprisoned’ is entered into their files, hoping it will provide an advantage after release."

Education: A small space of freedom

Dr. Hernández noted, "University studies conducted inside the prison create a small space of freedom for inmates. In that environment, they do not feel like prisoners. And we are present there not as authority figures, but simply as educators."

During the question and answer section of the event, where the relationship between formal law and unwritten codes was examined through the dynamics of women's prisons in Mexico, participants discussed the points where these experiences intersect with the accounts of female prisoners in Turkey.

Women are erased by the family before society

Noting that women imprisoned in Turkey—especially for ordinary crimes—are abruptly abandoned by those closest to them, a former female political prisoner highlighted how these women are already excluded by society, stating: "After she enters prison, the information her family gives to those around them is usually along the lines of 'she went to the village' or 'she went to Germany.' Women are erased by their families long before society erases them."

Dr. Hernández concurred with this observation, pointing out that the situation takes the exact opposite trajectory for male prisoners. It was emphasized that when women speak about their prison experiences after release, it is disapproved of because it clashes with the "obedient woman," "good mother," and "good wife" figures imposed on them by society.

The Silent Number

I. The Call

The phone rang while the woman was cleaning the window.

The cloth stayed where she had left it, caught against the corner of the half-open frame. She didn’t pick up the bucket. She didn’t rush. The phone lay on the kitchen table, and she walked towards it just a little faster than before—as though moving too quickly might frighten the caller away, and moving too slowly might make them change their mind.

She answered without looking at the screen.

“My love.”

The way she said the words told me it was her son.

I couldn’t hear his voice. I was watching hers. Until that morning, I hadn’t believed a face could hold more than one season. Then I watched summer disappear in the space of a heartbeat. The woman who had been scrubbing stubborn marks from the glass was gone. In her place stood a mother so intent on hearing the voice at the other end that even breathing seemed like an interruption.

“Have you eaten?” She listened. “Are you cold?” Another silence. “You’re all right… aren’t you?”

Her voice thinned on the last question. She wanted the answer, yet seemed to regret asking for it the moment the words left her mouth.

“All right,” she whispered at last. “You hang up first.”

The call ended. She kept looking at the dark screen for several seconds before opening the call log, tapping the number, and raising the phone to her ear again.

The number you have dialled is unavailable.

She ended the call without surprise.

“He calls from a different number every time.”

She wasn’t speaking to me. She was speaking into the room, as though someone else were already there—someone who knew the story better than I did.

She slipped the phone into the pocket of her apron and returned to the window. The cloth had dried where she had abandoned it, clinging to the glass. She peeled it away and began wiping again. But she was no longer cleaning the window. It looked as though she were trying to erase something invisible that stood between herself and the world outside.

Two weeks before her son left for the war, they had gone to enrol him at university.

She told me that story one afternoon while wiping fingerprints from the kitchen cupboards. The paperwork had been incomplete. They spent the morning at one government office and the afternoon at another. A passport photograph had been rejected. They had rushed across town to have another one taken. A clerk had signed the wrong page. Every time she told the story, she remembered a different detail. The one she returned to most often was the black folder he had carried beneath his arm.

“He wouldn’t even put it down after we got home,” she said. “His registration papers were inside.”

Then she laughed softly.

“As if someone was going to steal them.”

She had told me more than once what he was going to study. I never managed to remember. But I remembered something else.

“He was always drawing,” she said one day.

She spoke without looking up. She was dusting the bookshelves, running the cloth carefully along every spine.

“If he couldn’t find a sketchbook, he drew on newspapers.”

She smiled to herself.

“If there were no newspapers, he turned over old bills.”

A moment later she added, “When he was little, he even drew on the walls.”

She paused.

“I used to scold him.”

Another pause.

“I wouldn’t now.”

Neither of us spoke after that.

There are silences that ask for nothing.

When war begins, even the sound of a telephone changes. The ringing no longer comes first.

First comes your own heartbeat.

Only then the phone.

On the days her son called, the whole apartment seemed to breathe again. She hummed while making tea. She opened every window. She moved the flowerpots from one room to another, searching for better light. It was as though his voice travelled home with the call and wandered quietly through the apartment for a few borrowed minutes.

On the days he didn’t call, the rooms became smaller. The phone stayed in the pocket of her apron. Even so, every few minutes she touched it, just to make sure it was still there. Before turning on the vacuum cleaner, she always placed it on a metal tray in the kitchen. If it vibrated, the tray would amplify the sound into a sharp metallic echo that could be heard anywhere in the apartment.

Whenever that sound came, we both stopped breathing.

Sometimes it was her son. Sometimes a neighbour. Sometimes the bank.

Then, one day, another unfamiliar number appeared.

She answered. She listened for a long time without saying a word. I watched the colour drain slowly from her face.

When the call ended, I asked what had happened.

“It was someone else’s son.”

She folded the cleaning cloth. Then unfolded it. Then folded it again. She barely spoke for the rest of the day.

After a while, we stopped counting the days of the war. The dates in the corner of the television screen, the names of unfamiliar towns, the endless rows of young faces—they all blurred together until they belonged to the same endless day. Every morning brought another headline. Every evening ended with the same sentence.

Maybe tomorrow.

Maybe tomorrow it will end.

Her son’s last call came late one afternoon. She wasn’t working at my apartment that day. She phoned me instead.

“I heard his voice,” she said.

He had whispered. He hadn’t told her where he was. He hadn’t been able to speak for long.

“He’s all right,” she said.

Then she fell silent.

A few seconds later, she repeated the words quietly, almost to herself.

“He’s all right.”

The next day, the phone didn’t ring. Nor the day after.

On the third day, she arrived at my apartment without taking off her coat. She placed the phone carefully on the metal tray. The screen faced upwards. Around noon, she picked it up. Unlocked it. Locked it again.

“Does it have any charge?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Maybe there’s no signal.”

“Maybe.”

A week passed. Then another.

The phone never rang.

Still, every morning she laid it on the metal tray before beginning her work. When she went into the bathroom, she left the door open. She never turned the tap on full. While waiting for the bucket to fill, she kept glancing towards the kitchen.

On the fifteenth day, she looked at me across the kitchen table.

“Can a person hear the sound of silence?” she asked.

I didn’t answer.

Because by then, the loudest sound in the house was a telephone that never rang.

II. The Ceasefire

That morning, for the first time, the sky was quiet.

When you have lived for days inside distant thunder, silence does not arrive all at once. The ears continue to hear what is no longer there. The woman was crouched on the kitchen floor, wiping beneath the cupboards. Her phone lay on the metal tray, screen facing upwards. For fifteen days, it had not rung. Still, it occupied the most visible place in the house.

I was making tea. The television was on, though neither of us was watching.

Then a single word came from the screen.

Ceasefire.

Her hand stopped. I forgot the lid of the teapot. The presenter repeated it. The fighting would end.

The woman rose slowly.

“Is it over?” she asked.

I looked at the screen. “It’s over,” I said, without knowing what I meant. The war? The waiting? Or only the sentence read aloud?

She let the cloth fall. We held each other without moving first. We were crying, but for the first time, there was something inside the tears besides fear.

“They’ll come out now,” she whispered into my shoulder. “They’ll come out.”

The phone remained on the metal tray. But its silence had changed. Until the day before, it had felt like death. That morning, it felt like waiting.

The woman moved quickly then. She emptied the bucket, untied her apron, and put on her coat, fastening one button into the wrong hole.

“He’ll call once the signal comes back,” she said, slipping the phone into her bag. “He’ll come tomorrow.”

She said it with such certainty that imagining otherwise felt almost indecent.

At the door, she stopped and looked back into the apartment for a moment, then smiled and went down the stairs. From the window, I saw her step into the street and lift her face towards the sky. Her shoulders were lowered. She touched her bag and walked until she turned the corner.

Behind me, maps and borders filled the television screen. By the time I turned back, the tea had boiled over.

On the metal tray, the phone had left a pale rectangle in the dust.

I did not know that it was the last time I would see her walking with hope.

III. Fifty Days

The phone began to ring again.

But now every call brought a different voice. A hospital administrator. A clerk in a dimly lit office. A soldier reading names from a handwritten list.

Every morning, the woman left home at the same hour, while the streetlamps were still lit and the morning air smelled of damp stone and coal smoke. Every evening, she returned with the same grey exhaustion.

In those fifty days, the city seemed to lose its width. It contracted into a few quiet streets, a few waiting rooms where the radiators clanked softly and wet coats hung heavy against the plaster walls. There were other women in those rooms. They sat on narrow wooden benches with their hands folded in their laps, holding small plastic folders or old envelopes, watching every door that opened. No one spoke to anyone else, yet everyone knew why the others were there. The air in those corridors was thick with the smell of wet wool, cheap tea, and dried mud from boots that had walked from one side of the city to the other.

Every afternoon, she asked the same question at every desk:

“Is there any news of ours?”

Ours.

She never said his name.

She returned to my apartment three days a week. She cleaned the same glass, wiped the same shelves, but her movements had lost their former rhythm. Sometimes she would pause with a cloth in her hand and look out of the window for long minutes, watching the crows circle above the roofs, as if trying to remember what she had been doing before the cloth touched the glass.

One afternoon, fifty days after the silence began, she arrived carrying a small brown envelope. She placed it in the exact centre of the kitchen table, aligning its edge with the pattern on the oilcloth. I made tea. Neither of us drank. The steam drifted across the table and faded. When the tea had gone completely cold, she pushed the envelope towards me with the tips of her fingers.

“DNA,” she said.

Nothing more.

I did not ask what was inside. I watched her hands resting on the edge of the table. For the first time, they looked old—the skin fine and translucent, the veins showing blue beneath the surface.

The envelope stayed on her kitchen table at home, between the salt cellar and the bread box. She did not open it again. Outside, late autumn turned to winter. The trees along the avenue lost their last leaves, and the first heavy frost covered the rooftops in white.

The call came on a morning when it was snowing hard. Months later, she told me about the journey. When she and her husband got into their car, neither spoke. The windscreen wipers moved back and forth for the entire journey with a heavy, rhythmic stroke. Snow gathered on the glass. The blades cleared it. More snow fell.

“The road never ended,” she said.

That was the only detail she gave about the drive.

When they reached the morgue at the edge of the town, her husband stopped at the entrance. He sat down on the low concrete wall by the gate, his head in his hands. He could not go inside. She didn’t ask him to. She followed the attendant alone down a long subterranean corridor where the neon strips flickered and hummed against the damp ceiling.

All she could hear were the footsteps ahead of her.

Something crackled beneath her boots. She didn’t look down.

They reached a metal door at the end of the passage. The attendant pulled it back. A drawer slid open, the sound scraping against the concrete walls.

She looked for a long time. She did not cry. She did not step back. She simply looked at the shape beneath the white sheet.

Slowly, she shook her head.

“No.”

The attendant lifted the body slightly.

She reached out. She placed her hand on his shoulder. She left it there for a long time.

“Him.”

When she told me this, she described only the shoulder.

She stood up to leave early that day. At the door, she stopped and looked back towards the kitchen, staring at the metal tray on the counter.

“It won’t ring again,” she said quietly.

We both knew she did not mean the phone.

IV. The Birthday

Winter passed. Then spring.

The woman began coming to my apartment again. At first, she worked in silence, moving through the rooms like a guest who did not want to disturb the house. But gradually, life returned to ask for its small concerns—the price of tomatoes at the market, the early sour cherries, a neighbour’s radio playing through the thin walls. I let her give these small details to me. I took them all.

One morning, the moment she stepped through the door, she said, “I was at a funeral yesterday.”

She untied her headscarf, washed her hands at the sink, and then, without warning, began to laugh.

It had been an old woman’s funeral in a tiny flat on the ground floor. The room had been crowded with neighbours in heavy winter coats. A wooden stool had slipped beneath one of the older aunts, and when another woman reached out to grab her, they had both fallen into a third. Within seconds, four elderly women were sprawled on the carpet in an untidy pile of coats and headscarves, unable to haul themselves back up.

As she told the story, her shoulders began to shake. She laughed until she had to lean against the kitchen counter, a deep, helpless laughter that broke through months of quiet. I laughed too. Soon we were both laughing like schoolgirls, sliding down against the cupboards until we were sitting on the linoleum floor with tears running down our cheeks.

For a few minutes, it was not death moving through the apartment.

It was laughter.

She was the first to stop. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, looked at her watch, and stood up.

At the door, with her back turned to me, she spoke softly, as though picking up a thought she had left in the room weeks ago.

“The day I came back from the morgue,” she said, “I sent my husband inside. I stayed outside alone in the yard.”

She paused, her fingers resting on the brass door handle.

“I washed my boots for hours. I took a stiff wooden brush and scrubbed the soles until the rubber turned white.”

She didn’t explain. I didn’t ask.

She had once told me that she and her husband had laid the parquet in their home themselves, working late into the evenings after their regular shifts. They had painted every wall together and bought their furniture one piece at a time.

The next morning, she put those same boots on and went back to work.

Weeks later, she arrived carrying a thick manila envelope and spread dozens of photographs across the kitchen table. Some were faded prints from old family albums with scalloped edges; others had been taken on early mobile phones, slightly blurred under the kitchen lamp.

Her daughter sat beside her. They discussed the stone and the lettering. They measured the space at the base, choosing to glue the small marble vase on the far left—so that when the wild daisies bloomed in the spring, the long stems wouldn’t bend across his face in the photograph.

Her daughter held each photograph up to the light of the window. The woman smoothed the curling corners of one print with her thumb, set it aside, picked up another, looked at it for a long time, and then returned to the first.

In one picture, her son was laughing on a riverbank with a football under his arm. In another, he stood in the snow with his coat unbuttoned. In a third, he wore the black jacket he had worn the day they had gone to enrol him at university, looking sideways at the camera with a small, quiet smile.

“They have to carve one into the stone,” the woman said. “There are so many photographs. But after this… there will only be one.”

She gathered them slowly, arranging them into neat stacks before sliding them back into the brown envelope.

“It’s his birthday today,” she said as she reached the door. “I’m going to buy a cake.”

She paused, holding the door open just a few inches.

“And a bottle of red wine.”

I watched from the window as she crossed the street below. She entered the neighbourhood bakery first, coming out a few minutes later with a small white box tied with red cotton string. A little farther down the pavement, she went into the liquor shop and emerged holding a dark glass bottle by the neck.

She did not put them into the same bag.

The cake remained in her left hand.

The wine remained in her right.

At the corner, under the bare branches of the plane tree, she stopped for a moment. She stood still in the middle of the pavement, looking down the street towards her building, as if gathering her strength for the rest of the walk. Then she adjusted her grip on the box, turned the corner, and was gone.

The apartment behind me was still.

The metal tray lay on the kitchen counter.

For a long time, I stood looking at it.

Then I picked it up. It felt lighter than I remembered. I opened the cupboard, but I didn’t put it away.

Instead, I carried it back to the counter and set it down exactly where it had always been.

 The article reproduced below in English translation is an editorial taken from Harach, the official organ of the Dashnaktsutiun (Armenian Revolutionary Federation), published in Yerevan. It is dated November 20, 1920 (page 2). The editorial was written against the backdrop of war and political crisis in the Republic of Armenia, caught between Bolshevik Russia and Kemalist Turkey.

 The author of this editorial, Simon Vratsian, would soon become the last Prime Minister of the First Republic of Armenia and would hand over power to the Bolsheviks on December 2, 1920, marking the end of Armenian independence. At that time, he was a member of the Dashnaktsutiun Buro, the supreme executive body of the party. A few months later, Vratsian chaired the Committee of Public Salvation, the body that held insurrectionary power in Yerevan after the overthrow of the Bolshevik regime on February 18, 1921.

 Two months later, after the Soviets returned in April, Simon Vratsian continued, first in Iran and then in the West, to advocate a pro-Western orientation and to extend a hand to Turkey in the name of a pragmatic approach to politics and the restoration of Armenian sovereignty. He shared this orientation with leaders such as Ruben Ter Minassian, Ruben Tarbinian, Hamo Ohanjanian, Arshak Jamalian, Mikael Varandian, and many others.

 One hundred and six years later, in 2026, Armenia is experiencing an existential crisis, some characteristics of which echo the post-World War I era, with one major difference: while in 1920 the question of the borders between Armenian and Turkey were yet to be settled, neither republic today questions the existing borders.

 One does not have to agree with every statement in this editorial to appreciate the value and relevance of the basic argument it makes.

 Of course, this document is not the only one supporting the argument made in the editorial below. For example, in a report Vratsian presented to the Dashnaktsutiun Convention in the US in 1922, Vratsian argued that “the demand for a sea-to-sea Armenia is, at the least, childish.” (Hairenik Monthly, issue number 1.)

 Reading this editorial reminds us how crucial it is to learn the right lessons from history and from the pronouncements of great Armenian figures of the period. And the most ironic aspect of this affair is that the official headquarters of the Dashnaktsutiun in Armenia is named after Simon Vratsian.

These considerations offer a few possibilities:

• The Dashnaktsutiun in Armenia chose this name and endorsed all the writings of this former prime minister and member of the Buro of the Dashnaktsutiun. (Policy changes after 1933 had little to do with actual conditions in Armenia; rather, these were the political meanderings of an exiled now become a Diasporan party trying to find a degree of relevance in the Diaspora a changing international environment); 

• Or, the Dashnak party leadership today is not aware of the policy advocated by this editorial and is ignorant, or chooses to ignore, its own history. And that is a serious charge against a leadership that presents itself as the legitimate and faithful heir of an organization that is more than a century and a quarter old. 

• Alternately, the current leadership of the party could declare publicly that the Dashnaktsutiun, after its experience leading the First Republic, had reached certain conclusions and had adopted a view of Armenia’s future with which the current leadership disagrees. That is, not only it declares evasively that “the party has made mistakes,” but that the leadership states specifically what were these mistakes and why are these policies now being assessed as mistakes. Otherwise, the party has no way to learn from history in general and from the history of this party, specifically.   

But, sooner or later, the Dashnaktsutiun must decide what it represents in the Armenian world: a real political force that takes responsibility for its past; or a sectarian organization that relies on the image it wants to project and one that claims a legacy that has little to do with real history, certainly with its own history. 

The historical editorial: 

The Problem of Reconciliation and of Our Orientation

Armenia is a state recognized de jure by the great powers. And this recognition is the supreme international achievement of our people.

The Armenian people, which has gained its independence with the sacrifices of millions of its children, can reconcile with the great contractions in its historical territory, can renounce many and many good things, but there is one thing with which it must never reconcile with, which it must never renounce. And that thing is the destruction of Armenia as an independent state.

Let Armenia be a small, even a very small state, but be independent state.

Being small is never an obstacle to future development. Greece was small when it was created and very weak, but now it is so big that it inspires fear even in a powerful state like Italy. Serbia was small, but now it is already a respectable state. Romania was small, but now it has multiplied, multiplied its territory and power.

The most important thing is the preservation of state independence, which is the greatest guarantee of the future development of the people.

From the point of view of great states, the existence of our state has as much meaning and value as it separates Turkey from Russia. The day when Armenia loses its independence and becomes a puppet in the hands of Russia, the only strong reason that forced and forces the great European states to accept the existence of Armenia as a state will disappear.

If Armenia wants to live as a state, it must avoid being a plaything of its great northern neighbor, Russia, at all costs.

On the other hand, our centuries-old enemy, Turkey, can finally come to terms with our statehood only when we once and for all renounce the Russian orientation.

It is true that Mustafa Kemal's Turkey, which is at war with us today, acts as an ally of Bolshevik Russia. But it does not take great political wisdom to understand that Turkish-Russian friendship is a temporary alliance between two forces that are objectively and substantially opposed to each other in their interests.

It is no secret to anyone that the current friendship between the Turks and the Russians is an artificial bond that can be severed at any moment and will inevitably be severed when one or the other side has achieved its main goal.

Russia is the historical enemy of Turkey, and this hostility has never arisen from the subjective desires of the rulers, but has been an inevitable result of the objective conditions of the existence and development of the two states and peoples.

That is why neither the Bolsheviks nor the Kemalists can change themselves, change the ideological direction of their statehood, just as England became Russia's ally during the last European war, because that was England's temporary interest. But that alliance did not prevent England from remaining Russia's greatest and most dangerous enemy.

It is not by being with the Russians that the Armenian people can ensure its existence and the existence of its state. Because the presence of the Russians in Transcaucasia, under the current international conditions, cannot be permanent and it will inevitably, sooner or later end, as soon as the Russian problem is resolved.

Russia itself, through the mouth of its Bolshevik rulers, has repeatedly stated that it is ready to respect and recognize the interests of England in Transcaucasia.

The Armenian people and Armenia cannot tie their fortune with a state which, by its own admission, will withdraw from the borders of Transcaucasia if England and other great European powers are willing to reconcile with its existence.

For its salvation, Armenia has only one way - to find a common language directly with its neighbor, the Turks.

If the Armenian people wants to live and ensure its state and physical existence, then, as a matter of fact, it must have not a Russian, but a Turkish orientation.

And if the Armenian people had not had a Russian orientation during the last pan-European war, but had sided with the Turks without reservation, in all probability, it would have avoided the massacres and their situation would have been even better than that of the Georgians.

Once and for all, we must understand that it is not by relying on foreigners that we can truly achieve peace for our people, but only by relying on our own forces that we will determine our fate with our strong neighbors, with Turkey.

Any foreign intervention, especially Russian intervention, can only be detrimental to the lasting peace between the Armenian and Turkish peoples.

Because the foreigner will first muddy further the atmosphere of mutual distrust that already exists between the two centuries-old neighbors and make a firm agreement impossible. And second, the foreigner will try to make us a tool in pursuit of its own interests and goals; from the foreigner’s point of view, a sincere and genuine Armenian-Turkish reconciliation is not really desirable.

Meanwhile, the Armenian people, like the Turkish people, is in need of a genuine reconciliation.

We have been deceived enough by foreigners.

Let us place our hope only on our own strength and speak with our enemy face to face, without "benevolent" intermediaries. And what we will achieve in this way, in any case, will be something more reliable, more stable, and more hopeful than what we can obtain through the efforts of intermediaries.

Note: This article has been previously published in Radar Armenia ve Armenian Mirror Spectator.

Alp said they wanted the historic Silk Road Bridge on the Turkey–Armenia border to become a “Bridge of Peace,” stating: “We call for the issues between Azerbaijan and Armenia to be resolved through lasting peace, for Turkey to become a security zone, and for border trade between Turkey and Armenia to resume.”

In his remarks, Alp also highlighted the importance of achieving a lasting peace between Azerbaijan and Armenia, saying:

 “The Ancient City of Ani was added to UNESCO’s World Heritage List in 2016. Directly opposite us, on the other side of the water, is Armenian territory. The bridge you see is the historic Silk Road Bridge, which we hope will become a ‘Bridge of Peace.’ We call for the issues between Azerbaijan and Armenia to be resolved through lasting peace, for Turkey to become a security zone, and for border trade between Turkey and Armenia to resume.”

Ani: A UNESCO World Heritage Site

The archaeological site of Ani, located on the Turkey–Armenia border and known as the “city of a thousand and one churches,” was inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage List in 2016.

Located near the village of Ocaklı, approximately 44 kilometers from the center of Kars, the site stood out throughout history as an important center of trade and lodging along the Silk Road. Also known as the “land of kings with a population of 100,000,” Ani was home to different cultures and civilizations over the centuries.

Source: ANKA

The petition noted that the overwhelming majority—approximately 99 percent—of Istanbul Greeks, who were born and raised as citizens of the Republic of Turkey under the 1923 Treaty of Lausanne and who should have been able to continue living in the land they regarded as their homeland, now live outside Turkey.

EFC stated that the negative consequences of the events of the night of September 6–7, 1955 remain in effect, noting that a large proportion of the Greek community was forced to emigrate in 1964 following the deportation of Greek citizens from Turkey.

The petition emphasized that the events of September 6–7, 1955 also constituted a major rupture, and that the number of Greeks in Turkey, which had exceeded 100,000 during the Republican period, has now fallen below 1,000. The community, it said, has been steadily shrinking and is gradually being left to disappear.

The Federation noted that over the past 15 years it had submitted concrete proposals to government authorities, but that only a very small number of these proposals had been implemented.

Two Requests from the GNA

On the occasion of the 71st anniversary of the September 6–7, 1955 pogrom, EFC made two principal requests of the GNA.

The Federation called for the events to be placed on the parliamentary agenda and explicitly condemned by the Parliament. EFC also called for the state, for the first time, to officially extend its support to the Istanbul Greek community, which was subjected to the events, had its lives and property targeted, and was forced in overwhelmingly large numbers to abandon the homeland and family homes where its members had been born and raised.

As part of its second request, EFC called on the executive organs of the Republic of Turkey, through the GNA’s legislative authority, to take concrete measures to heal the wounds suffered by the Greek community as a result of the September 6–7, 1955 pogrom and to remedy the injustices committed against it.

EFC also called for positive measures to be taken to enable the Greek community—which is shrinking by the day and faces the threat of extinction—to maintain its presence and continue its life in Istanbul, Imbros (Gökçeada), and Tenedos (Bozcaada).

The Federation further called for policies and measures to be introduced to support members of the Greek community who emigrated from Turkey as a result of past policies toward minorities and who now wish to return to and resettle in their homeland, as well as for the executive authorities to be encouraged to pursue such measures.

The petition was signed on behalf of the Universal Federation of Istanbul Greeks Abroad by its President, Nikolaos Ouzounoglou, and Secretary-General, Nikolaos Anagnostopoulos.

The award recognizes individuals who work for a freer and more just world free from discrimination, racism, and violence; who take personal risks in pursuit of these ideals; challenge established ways of thinking; and embrace the language of peace. It honors those whose work inspires others and offers hope to people engaged in the struggle for a better world.

Each year, the award is presented to two individuals or organizations, one from Turkey and one from abroad. The ceremony also shines a light on numerous inspiring initiatives and individuals, who are recognized under the heading “Lights.”

The ceremony will be livestreamed on Tuesday, September 15, beginning at 8:00 p.m. (Istanbul time, GMT+3) via the Hrant Dink Foundation’s website, YouTube channel, and social media accounts.

The 2026 jury consists of Asena Günal, Berkun Oya, Bonita Bennett, Bülent Şık, Cemal Kafadar, Fariba Nawa, Feray Salman, Helena Maleno Garzón, Kalypso Nicolaïdis, Naira Sultanyan, and Rakel Dink.

The award’s logo was designed by Bülent Erkmen, while the award statuette was designed by Erdağ Aksel. The music accompanying the award, “Dry Road,” was composed by Arto Tunçboyacıyan.

Last Year’s Recipients

Last year, the award was presented  to Bülent Şık from Turkey, who has played an important role in helping the public access vital information by explaining technical subjects, including food safety, in clear and accessible language. He was recognized for his scientific integrity, his steadfast commitment to defending the public interest, and his courage in taking risks, as well as for his belief that knowledge should be regarded not as an instrument of power but as a common right of society.

The award was also presented to Helena Maleno Garzón of Spain, who has dedicated her life to exposing the hidden violence of borders and defending migrants’ right to life. For years, she has worked courageously to amplify the voices of thousands of people struggling to survive along migration routes.

Patriarch Maşalyan presided over the Mass held on Sunday, September 6. The service was led by Bishop Mesrob Barsamyan, Spiritual Leader of the Eastern United States Diocese. Archbishop Harutyun Damadyan, Father Armaş Bağdasaryan, and Father Natan Arabyan were also present. The hymns were performed by the Armaş Choir under the direction of Edvin Galipyan.

There was a large turnout from Istanbul, Armenia, and the diaspora. In his sermon during the Mass, Patriarch Maşalyan spoke about the significance of the Holy Cross. Following the sermon, King Gagik Ardzruni, who built the church, was commemorated with prayers. Patriarch Maşalyan and the clergy then proceeded outside the church in a procession and offered prayers.

Following the Mass, Patriarch Maşalyan spoke to members of the press. Drawing attention to the importance of improving Turkey-Armenia relations, Patriarch Maşalyan said:

 “Thank God, we had many pilgrims this year as well. They came from all over the world—from America, Europe, Armenia, Iran… This interest makes us very happy. We extend our endless thanks to our Minister of Culture and Tourism, Mr. Mehmet Nuri Ersoy, and to our Governor, Mr. Ozan Balcı. We came, we were honored, and now we are returning. May there be peace and well-being. The improvement of relations between Turkey and Armenia, and brotherhood among their peoples—these are the heartfelt wishes of everyone living in this country. We too raised these wishes to Almighty God in our prayers and during our Mass.

 “We prayed for peace in the world and brotherhood among humanity. One special prayer in our hearts was for the improvement of Turkey-Armenia relations. Because the peoples living on these lands deserve peace. We ask God for His mercy. May this peace come to these lands and to these peoples. May this world, together, become a beautiful table that God has set before us.”

In Van for the first time

Among those attending the Mass was Cana Kucyan, who lives in Florida of the United States. Speaking to the ANKA News Agency, Kucyan said that it was her first time in Van and that she was pleased to be in the city.

Rita Vardanyan, who lives in Armenia, said that this was her fourth time attending the Mass on Akhtamar Island and that the service there held a special meaning for her. In her remarks, Vardanyan emphasized peace and brotherhood.

“Peace and brotherhood are very beautiful things. Because there is one God. We do not discriminate. Whether it is a mosque or a church, we respect all religions. I do not want discrimination. I want brotherhood more than anything. Because we truly do not want fighting, conflict, or war. It is not a pleasant thing. God created all of us. And it would be better if we all recognized that we are brothers and sisters. I recommend this to everyone.”

Restoration work on the church was initiated by the Ministry of Culture and Tourism in 2005. After the work was completed, the church was opened to visitors in 2007 as a memorial museum during an international ceremony.

The historic church, which is opened for worship once a year with special permission from the Ministry of Culture and Tourism, held its first Mass on September 19, 2010, after a 95-year pause.

The Feast of the Holy Cross will be celebrated by the Armenian Church on September 13. Masses at Akhtamar are traditionally held one week earlier.

The deportations deeply affected not only those holding Greek passports but also their families who were citizens of the Republic of Turkey. In order to keep families from being separated, tens of thousands of Greek citizens of Turkey also left, torn from their roots. Like Leonidas, they were forced to leave everything behind.

Leaving Istanbul was not the first upheaval in Koumakis’ life. For the Greeks of his generation, the year 1955 carries the silent weight of memory. The destruction that began on September 6–7, 1955, took another form nine years later with the deportations of 1964.

Koumakis therefore made a promise to himself to write about everything that had happened. But it took time for him to fulfill that promise. In the spring of 1991, he lost his father. His father had lived until his final breath longing to return to his beloved homeland, Istanbul.

His father’s death set off an alarm bell in Leonidas’ mind and soul. He knew that the time had come to put the past on record. He began putting into writing all the testimony, memories, and documents he had accumulated over the years. When he completed his work, he felt that the heavy burden he had carried for so long had finally been lifted.

The resulting book was published under the title Miracle – A True Story.

What happened on September 6–7?

At the time, a tripartite Greece–Turkey–United Kingdom conference, which had begun on August 29 and whose principal agenda item was the Cyprus issue, was still underway. The conference had created an extremely hostile atmosphere toward the Greek community living in Turkey. Istanbul’s Greeks were being falsely accused of sending money to Greek Cypriots.

The pogrom was set in motion on September 6 when newspapers distributed in Istanbul and İzmir in specially printed editions began circulating the report that a bomb had been detonated at Atatürk’s birthplace in Thessaloniki. In reality, there had been a small explosion, and the house had not suffered serious damage. The incident, however, was presented as a much larger attack through manipulated photographs published in the press.

Within a short time, a large crowd had gathered around Taksim Square. Groups mobilized with the influence of organizations such as the Cyprus is Turkish Association began targeting Greek-owned homes, businesses, and places of worship throughout Istanbul.

Let us return to that day of shame through the testimonies I translated into Turkish from Leonidas Koumakis’ book.

 “The five major streets leading into Taksim Square were suddenly filled with an angry mob armed with axes, shovels, clubs, hatchets, hammers, and iron crowbars. The crowd was shouting, ‘Death to the infidels!’ and ‘Destroy them, smash them, they are infidels!’

It was said that the police and state security forces had supposedly been caught unprepared. They had received no instructions to calm the situation or maintain order. The authorities watched what was happening with indifference.

“Nothing was to be left standing”

When a mob of approximately 50,000 shouting and pouring into the squares, the next stage of the plan began: destruction of all property belonging to Greeks in Istanbul, the desecration and humiliation of everything sacred to the Greek community, and widespread looting. The instructions were clear: nothing was to be left standing.

What followed was absolute hell that lasted for hours.

Part of the crowd headed toward İstiklal Avenue, the famous Pera district, one of Istanbul’s best-known centers of commerce and entertainment. Along this roughly one kilometer stretch stood around 700 shops, most of them owned by Greeks.

The first place attacked was the ‘Eptalofos’ café in Taksim Square. The crowd stormed into the café like a herd of crazed bulls and destroyed everything: windows, tables, chairs, counters, glasses, cups…

They then entered a fabric shop owned by a Greek tradesman. Four attackers had torn up sections of the tram tracks. Using a piece of rail, they smashed the shop’s door and display windows. Within minutes, the business had been reduced to a bombed-out ruin.

Fabrics and shelving were scattered into the street; in the middle of the road, a sewing machine was smashed to pieces before the eyes of the barbarically shouting crowd.

The next target was an electrical shop, whose belongings were hurled into the street in the face of the crowd’s terrifying fury.

A little farther along stood a grocery store run by two elderly Greeks. With extraordinary courage, the old man stood in front of his shop and addressed the crowd:

‘Get out of here! We have lived on this land for six generations; you cannot touch us.’

Those were the last words he spoke.

The vandals fell upon the old man. Within minutes, the shop had been smashed to pieces, and the Greek grocer had become the first victim of that nightmarish night. His wife survived by curling up in a corner, but she died shortly afterward from the shock she had suffered that night.

Destruction and looting

The mob continued systematically looting shops owned by Greeks throughout Pera.

The legendary ‘Kervan’ pastry shop belonging to Dimitris Pilavidis, Lenas and Kiriçis’ ‘Baylan,’ and Yannis Çoulis’s ‘Şehir’ pastry shop were all attacked. Large luxury clothing and shoe stores were also looted.

The looters carried clothes and shoes out of these stores. They selected silk shirts, suits, and new shoes, put them on right there at the scene, and then continued with the destruction and looting.

When they entered the famous Frangoulis jewelry store, it was almost like a real civil war: a struggle broke out over who would seize the most valuable jewelry. Gold and jewels worth a fortune were swallowed up within minutes by demonstrators fighting among themselves.

When the crowd reached the Church of Ayia Triada, there was a moment of hesitation. That ‘hesitation’ ended with cries of ‘Damn the faithless!’ and they entered the church.

Inside the sanctuary, everything that could be carried was either smashed to pieces or ruthlessly trampled. Icons, sacred objects, and the vestments of the clergy became targets of the enraged crowd. The church pews and the spiritual leader’s throne were destroyed.

Then another group carried kerosene into the church with the intention of setting it on fire. Fortunately, Ayia Triada Church was not burned. Why they failed to set the church ablaze would remain a mystery forever.

Within a few hours, Pera had become unrecognizable. The avenue was covered by a strange layer made up of everything that had been destroyed or thrown aside: machines, furs, watches, shoes, oils, cheeses, fabrics, porcelain, clothing, and all kinds of foodstuffs.

All this wealth, crushed beneath the feet of the constantly moving vandals, gradually became a muddy, oily, sticky mound of wreckage rising in the middle of the street.”

How could we have known?

In his book, Leonidas Koumakis includes numerous accounts, including his father’s testimony. Another eyewitness recounts what happened to his father that night:

“My father had noticed that shops and homes belonging to Christians were suddenly being marked with strange symbols or Turkish letters. Homes and shops belonging to Turks, meanwhile, were adorned with flags, as though whispering a secret message he could not yet understand.

Moreover, over the previous few days, strange crowds had begun appearing in central Istanbul. They had been brought in from Anatolia; their clothes were torn, they were disheveled, and they had an ominous appearance.

How could my father have known that within a few hours these people would assume the role of ‘citizens driven into a frenzy,’ desecrate everything sacred, loot, rape, and destroy everything?

Although he thought long and hard about all the signs he had witnessed, he ultimately failed to recognize the danger that was approaching. Now, as he heard the crowd shouting, ‘Death to the infidels!’ and ‘Destroy them, smash them, they are infidels!’, he was consumed with anguish.

He hurriedly switched off the lights in the shop and ran outside. At that very moment, five men who had broken away from the main mob descended upon him like shadows.

One of them roared, ‘Hey, infidel, why isn't there a Turkish flag in your shop?’

That question was, in fact, the signal for his execution. All five of them attacked him at once, kicking and punching him.

Just then, the piercing siren of an ambulance rapidly making its way through the narrow street could be heard. The attempted lynching in the middle of the road stopped for a moment to let the ambulance through.

My father realized at that instant that this was the only and final chance he had to save his life. Bleeding and dazed from the blows he had received, he ran without even looking back, using the last scraps of strength left in his body.

By the time the ambulance had passed, he had already disappeared into the darkness. The shop became the new target of the frenzied attackers.

Our shop was looted until not a single intact thing remained.

Normally, it was a twenty-minute walk to his home. Because of the injuries he had suffered, it took him a full two hours to get there. When that man finally stepped through the door, he was completely broken, physically and spiritually, reduced almost to a wreck himself.”

Confrontation

The testimonies, documents, and research available to us today clearly reveal the role played by the deep-state apparatus and the security bureaucracy in organizing the September 6–7 attacks. For this reason, September 6–7 should be described not merely as a dark night in society’s history, but as a pogrom in which different elements of the state were directly involved.

Yet a country’s reckoning with its past is not simply a matter of identifying those responsible. To confront the past means understanding what the victims experienced, mourning the losses, and openly acknowledging the injustices committed in the past.

For this reason, September 6–7 should have a place on our calendars not merely as a date, but as a day of mourning and shame.

It should not be difficult to remember the Greeks, Armenians, Jews, and all the victims affected by the attacks who belonged to these lands; to mourn those we lost; and to strive to ensure that no community is ever again targeted because of its faith, language, identity, or origin.

Confronting the past does not mean remaining trapped in it.

The past is connected to the present—and, even more importantly, to the future.

As part of the Armenia–Turkey Business Forum held in Yerevan, 80 businesspeople representing Van CCI met with representatives of the Armenian business community. The meetings focused on opportunities for bilateral trade and investment, while participants also discussed prospects for developing joint initiatives between the business communities of the two countries and strengthening existing economic ties.

The parties stated that the business community can make a significant contribution to developing relations on the basis of mutual understanding, trust, and shared economic interests, independently of borders and political disputes.

The statement noted that strengthening economic and commercial relations between Turkey and Armenia would make a significant contribution not only to the business communities of the two countries, but also to the economic and social development of the border regions, as well as Van and Yerevan.

Key headlines

The statement emphasized the importance of the following areas:

Increasing the volume of trade between the two countries, opening the Turkey–Armenia border crossings, and mutually facilitating border crossings;

Developing transportation links and making more effective use of existing transport routes;

Increasing reciprocal visits by businesspeople and expanding business-to-business (B2B) and corporate sales meetings;

Exploring opportunities for joint investment and production;

Strengthening cooperation in tourism, logistics, agriculture, food, textiles, industry, and services;

Establishing sustainable institutional communication mechanisms between the two business communities.

The statement noted that opening the border crossings would mean more than simply revitalizing trade; it would also constitute an important step toward normalizing relations. It added that opening the borders would be crucial to unlocking the region’s economic potential in terms of trade, investment, tourism, and cultural interaction.

Van: a natural bridge

The statement described Van as a potential natural bridge for trade and logistics between Turkey and the Caucasus and said that strengthening economic ties between Van and Yerevan would contribute to the development of regional trade and help reinforce mutual understanding between the two peoples.

Emphasizing that the connections established in Yerevan should not remain limited to business meetings, the statement said they should be sustained through reciprocal visits, commercial relations, and concrete forms of cooperation. It noted that one of the most important steps toward making the process permanent and sustainable would be the opening of border crossings and the establishment of regular trade routes.

The statement also emphasized that trade is one of the most effective tools for strengthening mutual trust, that border crossings connect people and economies, and that economic cooperation contributes to building long-term relations.

The Union of Manufacturers and Businessmen of Armenia and the Van Chamber of Commerce and Industry said they would continue working to strengthen communication and cooperation between the business communities of the two countries, increase trade volume, and support the process of opening the border crossings.

A two-day forum bringing together business communities from Armenia and Turkey was held in Yerevan on September 3–4. Organized by the Union of Manufacturers and Businessmen of Armenia as part of the EU-funded program “Supporting the Normalization of Armenia–Turkey Relations: Strengthening Cross-Border Ties,” the forum addressed opportunities for economic cooperation between the two countries and explored new areas and formats for cooperation.

One day, around the end of our school year, the owner approached me and asked what my plans were for the Summer. I told him that I had none and so he said, ‘Do you want to work here? You start as a dishwasher and then we will see.’ He did not wait for my answer and added, ‘think about it and let me know’. I was happy that I was given time for making a decision. And I was excited, because finally I would get the real Canadian experience every employer asked for. A day later, I let Ernie Rufas the owner, know that I accepted the job.

The restaurant was huge, I found out. I had seen only one part of it where we used to sit all the time. It was considered the family part. There was also the bar side which I had not been to before and it was quite spacious. The morning I began, Ernie took me to the back and showed me a huge Cafeteria and told me that I had to mop the floor. This was to be my job every morning because the Xerox workers had lunch there every day. I was disheartened because I was hired as a dishwasher and not a cleaner. I had to flip over a hundred chairs over the tables, mop the floors and then arrange the chairs for sitting again. It took me over an hour and I was exhausted. I could not complain because it was my first day.

Next, he took me to the kitchen. All along I had expected to do the dishes by hand. It was the first time I saw a dishwashing machine, like a carwash...you put a rack of dishes on some automatic rollers from one side and they came out clean and dry from the other side. I thought it will be easy until I saw the huge dirty pots and pans that I had to scrape with metal wire before they went through the machine.

Ernie was a very strict and unpredictable boss. He would get mad at any mistake you made and would humiliate you. But half an hour later, he would joke and laugh with you. He was a Macedonian immigrant. He loved talking to me as a know-it-all. As if he was smarter and more experienced than me and he had to advise me about life. Once he found out I was Armenian, he never used my proper name again. He began calling me Ararat. But he pronounced it Arrrarrrattt! I think he liked me very much because he would tease me about Turks and Armenians, girls and boys and my plans in life. His cruel treatment eventually softened. He saw that I was not going to break down. It was like a test for him to be convinced that I was a determined boy. We would argue because I would stand up against his unfair accusations as a boss. Eventually, he moved me from dishwashing to cashier position and soon after I became a waiter in the family section. But the grand prize was when he moved me to the bar section where the tips were quite good. By the end of the Summer, when I quit, I was a good, experienced waiter.

I lost touch with Ernie. Almost thirty years after my days at Big Boy’s, one rainy evening I was rushing somewhere in the Greek neighborhood. I passed a man and two women sheltering from the rain on the sidewalk. They were laughing cheerfully. I glanced at them quickly and I only caught a glimpse of the man. Something familiar struck me in the man’s voice. I continued towards the restaurant but then decided to go back. I was curious about the man. I walked back and looking at him, I said excitedly ‘excuse me! But are you Ernie? Ernie Rufas?’. He looked at me in a questioning way and then, his face beaming with a huge smile, he shouted, ‘Arrrarrrattt? Vay vay vay. Son of a gun’. He was so happy. I was so happy. The two women were happy because we were happy. He hugged me tightly. He kept saying,’ I can’t believe it’. I told him that I had never forgotten him even if he had been a cruel boss sometimes. At the end of an emotional little chat, he turned around to the women and he said, ‘See? This is what they call ‘real success’. If you are a heartless boss and your worker still remembers you after thirty years and comes over to talk to you on the street with respect, that is real success!’

Son of a gun Ernie Rufas! How can one forget you anyways?

What is the underlying source of the problem with the guest student system in Armenian schools?

There is a process that began orally and continued in that manner. Therefore, based on the information we have, it is impossible to determine whether a policy change has been decided upon or whether this is simply the overzealous conduct of certain bureaucrats. We would like to believe that the latter is the case and hope that there will be no regression in access to education for migrant children who are citizens of Armenia.

During this process, the only official statement came from the Center for Combating Disinformation. It stated that no practice had been introduced beyond the provisions of the existing legislation. Of course, this statement is insufficient. The real question here is this: Will you continue to implement these legal provisions in the way they have been interpreted for the past 14 years, or will you implement them in exactly the opposite way, as the inspectors indicated? This question was probably deliberately left unanswered in the statement.

For that reason, it is difficult to reach a definitive conclusion about the process. However, if we go further back, it is possible to say that we have reached this point because of an unresolved problem that has merely been managed through an interim formula.

Article 51 of the Regulation on Private Educational Institutions, published in 2012, states that “... foreign-national guest students may receive education.” Does the Ministry’s categorization of foreign nationals actually mean that this problem has never truly been resolved?

The 2012 regulation provided some breathing room in response to an existing practical need. However, “guest student” status has not eliminated inequality and rights violations. Families then had to look for new ways to overcome problems such as their children being unable to receive diplomas and being unable to continue their education at high schools. So, rather than a problem that has newly emerged today, we can say that there is a danger of an already existing problem becoming even more severe. All of these violations should be considered under the heading of “violations of the right to education,” and thought should be given to a formula that would completely eliminate the problem, followed by the necessary legislative changes.

In your first statement to Agos, you said that you had spoken with the families of students from Armenia. How long have you been working on this issue?

As MAZLUMDER, we have kept the issue of migrant children’s access to education at the center of our human rights advocacy for many years. Likewise, violations and discriminatory policies affecting citizens of the Republic of Turkey who belong to minority communities have always been on our agenda. Although this issue may appear to be a problem concerning migrant rights, it is also closely connected to minority rights.

Initially, we wanted to address the access to education of children attending minority schools as guest students, specifically in terms of their inability to receive diploma. The issue came onto our agenda several months ago as a result of media monitoring by our Human Rights Violations Commission. Following preliminary research into the grievances being experienced, a team was established specifically to study and report on the issue. As our team deepened its research and conducted interviews, it concluded that the problem was much more deep-rooted and extensive than initially thought and expanded the scope of its work. While we were continuing our preparations, the possibility emerged that the current practice, which we already considered inadequate and believed was causing grievances, could be rolled back even further. Our aim is to produce a coherent study examining the problem and bring it to the attention of both the authorities and the public.

Although we have not yet spoken extensively with families, we have met with some families during this process, particularly through their lawyers. The families’ greatest concern is, of course, their children’s education. As we talk to them, it becomes clear that the problem has many layers and is connected to numerous other issues. A child going to school essentially means being able to establish relationships with their surroundings and with the society in which they live. We see this even more clearly among migrant children. A child who has a healthy educational experience will often also have a healthier relationship with their family. Families are looking for solutions to overcome this problem. But these solutions also bring other difficulties and new problems with them. It would ultimately benefit the state as well to look at all of these issues holistically and fully understand what the problems being experienced are costing.

Following your investigations, did you meet with the authorities as association? How do they view the issue?

As an association, we initially met with officials in order to hear about the implementation from their perspective. Of course, this was not so much a formal meeting as an effort to obtain information from an official who was knowledgeable about the issue. We have also had some contacts during the most recent phase, but unfortunately, we cannot say that we have received any significant or clear information.

It was said that not only Armenian, but also Greek and Jewish schools would no longer be able to admit guest students. The 2012 regulation used for this practice refers generally to “schools” when describing guest students. Yet, 14 years after the regulation was issued, isn’t it contradictory for the ministry inspectors to state that “minority schools” cannot admit guest students?

It is a very obvious contradiction. A state governed by the rule of law must be predictable. There must be consistency in the administration’s practices. Legal certainty must be ensured.

Everyone knows that the purpose of the amendment made in 2012 was to provide this opportunity. This can even be understood from media reports published at the time. Naturally, the implementation developed in accordance with that intention over the following 14 years. For a provision introduced to provide an opportunity and implemented in accordance with that intention for all these years, it is clearly neither legally nor humanely appropriate to suddenly say, “No, this does not apply to you!”

Are you going to tell children who are currently studying at minority schools as guest students, “Now go and continue your education at a public school”? Is there any possibility that something beneficial for the child, the family, and society will come out of this? A bureaucrat may approach these matters from a technical perspective, but it should not be forgotten that plans made behind a desk and interpretations on paper can fundamentally disrupt people’s lives.

Guest students cannot be issued diplomas. You also address this violation. Can the issue of these students receiving diplomas be resolved through regulation? Or is a legislative change necessary?

Actually, we had initially brought this issue to our agenda because guest students could not receive diplomas. It is important to repeat that this constitutes a rights violation in itself. It is possible to address this problem through an amendment in the regulation. However, this would still be a secondary route. Although secondary solutions may appear to resolve the problem temporarily, they can produce similar results to what we are seeing today at any moment. Correct approach would be to amend the relevant provision of the Law on Private Educational Institutions governing students who attend minority schools, remove the provision preventing foreign-national students from receiving education at these schools or introduce an exception, and then establish the details through regulation.

Naturally, legislative amendments take longer to enact than regulatory amendments. However, as is well known, laws rank above regulations in the hierarchy of norms. If legal protection can be provided, the exercise of the right to education will no longer be left to the discretion of the administration, and an acquired right cannot subsequently be taken away through regulatory changes.

Finally, it should be emphasized that resolving these kinds of problems is possible only if there is an intention and a will to resolve them. When that intention and political will exist, the laws and regulations thought to be the source of the problem can be changed much more quickly and easily than we might expect.

Speaking at the forum, Necdet Takva, Chairman of the Board of Directors of the Van Chamber of Commerce and Industry, said:

“Following the normalization process, we consider it a strategic necessity to establish an appropriate representative office in Van in order to manage and coordinate the developing economic relations and commercial issues on the ground. As the Van Chamber of Commerce and Industry, we are ready to allocate space in our building for the establishment of such a representative office and to take the initiative in this regard.”

Takva said:

“We are here to represent and expand the interests and economic opportunities of our city and our businesspeople. Today, as the delegation of the Van Chamber of Commerce and Industry, we are in Yerevan, at the heart of thousands of years of shared history, an ancient geography, and our shared neighborhood.”

The President of Van CCI stated:

“Geography is destiny. However, turning this destiny into mutual prosperity, cross-border trade, and lasting regional peace depends on us, on our shared will.”

Takva noted that even during years when the Armenia-Turkey border was closed and official channels of communication were limited, civil society and business representatives continued to build channels of communication and trade diplomacy between the two societies.

Takva emphasized:

“Of course, during periods when border gates were closed and official communication channels were occasionally blocked, there were private actors who, even in the most difficult times, kept the region’s channels of communication open and built bridges of civil and commercial diplomacy between the two societies. One of them was a group of representatives of the Armenian business community, who made great efforts to bring businesspeople from the two countries together around the same trade table. Another important institution is the Economic Policy Research Foundation of Turkey (TEPAV), which has done significant work in establishing the academic foundations of economic relations and trade diplomacy. Without civil society representatives and businesspeople who have been working on both sides for years, we would not have the strong and hopeful atmosphere we have today.”

Trade is the real force

Referring to the normalization process in Armenia-Turkey relations, Takva drew attention to developments pertaining to meetings between the special envoys of the two countries, direct air cargo transportation, and the technical infrastructure of the border gates.

“Diplomacy can open the way, but the real force that makes this permanent and brings prosperity to both societies is trade,” Takva said, emphasizing that, due to its geographical location, Van stands out as one of the closest and most suitable hubs for Turkey to connect with Armenia and, through Armenia, with broader regional markets.

Takva noted that if the border gates were opened to trade, the road distance between Van and Yerevan could be approximately 290 kilometers, with the journey taking roughly three to four hours. He continued:

“In that case, the days-long, circuitous transportation routes through Georgia or Iran, as well as the additional re-export costs, could be eliminated.”

He also identified the complementary nature of the two countries’ production capacities as one of the promising areas for Armenia-Turkey economic relations.

According to Takva, construction materials, construction chemicals, plastic and packaging products, high-quality furniture, and processed industrial products manufactured in the Van Organized Industrial Zone could meet part of the existing demand in Armenia. At the same time, he noted that Armenia has strong positions in metallurgy, textiles, and several other sectors, which could provide a basis for direct cooperation.

Not just trade, but partnership

Takva recommended that Armenian and Turkish businesspeople consider not limiting themselves to commercial relations but also explore the possibility of establishing joint production ventures and partnerships.

Takva said:

“There is also a Eurasian market of 180 million people here. We did not come here merely as traders. We also want our manufacturers to establish partnerships. By organizing production in the free economic zones offered by Armenia and providing the necessary local added value, it is possible to benefit from the opportunities provided by Armenia’s membership in the Eurasian Economic Union and gain access to a market of approximately 180 million people.”

Takva presented two strategic and institutional proposals for developing Armenia-Turkey economic relations. The first concerns establishing a mechanism for diplomatic representation and the local coordination of economic and commercial issues. The second concerns making cooperation between the two countries institutionalized and continuous within the framework of cultural and commercial diplomacy.

He emphasized that closed borders not only prevent the movement and transportation of goods but also restrict communication and mutual understanding between people.

The President of Van CCI said:

“Closed borders do not only restrict the movement of vehicles and goods. They also restrict the channels of communication that exist in people’s minds. We are here today to open those closed channels and to combine production and economic opportunities with the warmth of human relations.”

Referring also to remarks by Ambassador Vassilis Maragos, Head of the Delegation of the European Union to Armenia, Takva suggested that the European Union provide greater support to institutions in Turkey that are working to develop Armenia-Turkey cooperation.

The Ministry of Culture and Tourism began restoration work on the church in 2005. Following the completion of the restoration, the church was opened to visitors as a memorial museum in 2007 at an international ceremony. The historic church, which is opened for worship once a year with special permission from the Ministry of Culture and Tourism, hosted its first liturgy in 95 years on September 19, 2010. A large number of visitors within Turkey and from abroad are expected to attend this year’s 14th annual service.

Erkan Avcı, a boat captain operating in the Gevaş district, said they were expecting a high turnout for this year’s liturgy.

Avcı said they had completed their preparations and added:

“We hope more visitors will come this year. We have also made all our preparations. We provide service here with 15 boats. Before the liturgy, we will also transport visitors who want to visit the island by boat to Akhtamar Island. We are standing by and ready. On Sunday, we will transport those coming for the service to the island with our boats.”

The Armenian Church will celebrate the Feast of the Holy Cross on September 13. The liturgy at Akhtamar is traditionally held one week earlier.

According to the ministry, the page will provide details and updates on the TRIPP project, offering content in various formats to ensure that the public has access to up-to-date information about the initiative.

Meanwhile, Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan met in Bishkek with a delegation led by U.S. Senator Steve Daines.

According to a report by Armenpress, citing a statement issued by the Office of the Prime Minister of Armenia, the meeting emphasized the importance of continuing efforts to develop the Armenia-U.S. strategic partnership across various areas.

The meeting also highlighted TRIPP’s role in removing obstacles to regional transportation connectivity and further developing those connections. In this context, the sides exchanged views on the implementation of the project and plans for the coming period.

Mamigonyan first took up basketball as a student. From 2019 to 2025, he continued his involvement in the sport as a coach with MVP and Açı Sports Clubs. He also played in the Rupen Semerciyan Basketball Tournament, organized within the Armenian community.

This year, Mamigonyan was invited as a coach to the 25th edition of the international NBA Basketball Without Borders (BWB) program.

The camp, held at the Basketball Development Center in Istanbul, brought together 80 promising young athletes from around the world. During the camp, Mamigonyan worked alongside Cleveland Cavaliers head coach Kenny Atkinson and NBA players Thomas Bryant and Saddiq Bey, taking part in basketball offensive drills and training sessions.

Members of the local community attended the service, during which Patriarch Maşalyan delivered the sermon. In his sermon, Patriarch Maşalyan emphasized the importance of never giving up on doing good. Congratulating the choir on its anniversary, he noted that the Nersesyan Choir was founded alongside the church 169 years ago and was revived 44 years ago by the late Patriarch Mesrob Mutafyan, who was serving as a priest at the time.

Patriarch Maşalyan also recalled that he himself had been one of the choir’s founding members and had served as one of its chairmen. He added that the tradition has continued under the leadership of Archpriest Damadyan.

Following the liturgy, a communal fellowship meal was held in the church hall, where the 169th anniversary of the Nersesyan Choir was celebrated.

According to the Board, the cemetery meets the criteria for protection under Law No. 2863 on the Protection of Cultural and Natural Heritage. It has been classified as a Group 1 cultural heritage site, while the boundaries of the protected area have been defined in a coordinated 1:1,000-scale site plan attached to the decision.

The decision also requires a notation to be entered in the land registry stating: “Group 1 Immovable Cultural Heritage Asset Requiring Protection and Protected Area.” From now on, any physical or construction-related activity within the cemetery or its protected area—including subdivision or consolidation of parcels, the creation of new parcels, and zoning or development works—will require approval from the Regional Board for the Protection of Cultural Heritage.

The registration follows an application submitted on July 22, 2026, by Arman Yağcı, a representative of Elazığ Armenian community. As part of the review process, the authorities sought opinions from the Elazığ Provincial Directorate of Culture and Tourism, Elazığ Municipality’s Directorate of Planning and Urban Development, and the Malatya Regional Directorate of Foundations. Experts from the Diyarbakır Regional Board for the Protection of Cultural Heritage also conducted an on-site examination and assessment.

Surp Nışan Chapel also protected

Following an expert report dated July 30, along with the assessments submitted by the relevant institutions, the case was brought before the Regional Board for the Protection of Cultural Heritage, which decided on August 26 to register the cemetery as cultural heritage.  The decision also placed the Surp Nışan Chapel, located within the cemetery grounds, under protection.

Following the decision, Patriarch Maşalyan called Arman Yağcı to congratulate him on the outcome.

As part of the program, which aims to support the learning and use of the language, participants will have access not only to Western Armenian courses but also to conversation workshops and online resources.

Rather than preserving Western Armenian solely as a form of cultural heritage at the risk of extinction, the Hrant Dink Foundation aims to pass the language on to new generations through teaching methods that keep it alive and enable it to adapt to a changing world.

New term begins September 21

The new term of the Foundation’s online Western Armenian education program consists of two sessions. The first will take place from September 21, 2026, to January 25, 2027, and the second from February 15 to June 21, 2027.

Each session will consist of a total of 72 hours of instruction and will be completed over 18 weeks. The program will be conducted online via Zoom, with two-hour classes held twice a week.

The deadline to apply for the program is September 17, 2026.

Conversation workshops begin in October

Conversation workshops will also continue in the new term for people with a basic knowledge of Western Armenian, particularly those who wish to improve their speaking skills and vocabulary.

Beginning October 12, 2026, the workshops will be held online once a week for 10 weeks. The days and times of the workshops, as well as registration dates, will be announced in September.

Online resources for Western Armenian

In addition to its educational programs, the Hrant Dink Foundation offers a range of digital resources for people learning Western Armenian.

The Foundation’s webinar, “Online Resources for Western Armenian,” introduces a variety of resources, including spelling and orthography-checking programs, audio recordings, articles, and videos.

The video series “Writing the Armenian Alphabet / Ինչպէս կը Գրենք Հայերէնի Այբուբենը” also aims to support learners of all ages in the process of learning the Armenian alphabet.

The program is led by Şuşan Özoğlu, who taught and served as an administrator at Armenian schools for many years, and Tamar Mangasar, who received specialized training in Armenian language teaching methods and pedagogy in Armenia and has been teaching since 2010.

For more information, visit the Hrant Dink Foundation’s website.

That first night at my job was like winning the jackpot. The 25% commission I was promised turned out to be more than thirty dollars. And that was for the three hours of work I had done that night. Imagine living in a city where the minimum hourly wage is around two dollars and you have a job that brings in more than five times that amount! No doubt, my classmates were working as hard as me at their jobs, but I was rewarded so much more. Very unfair when I think about it. And the more I think, I feel that those classmates and everyone else should have been paid as generously as me. After all, we were doing the main work from which our bosses benefitted. London Cleaners would not have made any money in that building, had a delivery boy like me not been there.

The job was physically tiring because of all the walking I did in the long hallways of our twenty-floor building which had 18 apartments on each floor. So eventually I began taking short breaks by going home and resting. The 5-minute breaks turned into 10 and then 15 and …eventually I discovered a sitcom show called Happy Days which all my classmates raved about. They all loved Fonzy. So, my Tuesday night breaks lasted half an hour timed with the beginning and ending of Happy Days. I was not lazy actually. It’s just that everyone watched and loved the sitcom so much that I felt left out. The breaks were actually refreshing and I would go back to work as soon as the show ended.

The most interesting thing about my job was the customers. My introduction to Canadian social skills began there. My customers liked me I think, because I was hard-working and attentive to their requests and complaints. Some of them were talkative, due to friendliness or loneliness. Sometimes they would hold me at the door for too long making conversations. I would listen thinking it would be rude not to. But mostly, I also liked talking to them. I met the first Chileans and East Indians from Uganda working…The Pinochet and Idi Amin horrors had begun those years of 73 and 74. Canada and our building were full of new refugees. My first encounter with a conceptual artist happened there. So did one with a gay designer and one with a political activist. She was a Jamaican immigrant with a beautiful baby…one day she gave me a thick book about colonialism, and she told me to read it because it would open up my mind.

That first job lasted more than two years. Over time, the customer list got longer. I canvassed and got many more customers in my building, and I earned more as business grew. The superintendent of the building also let me know every time new tenants moved to our building.  Once, around Christmas, I remember pocketing seventy five dollars…the sales that night totalled 300 dollars. Eventually Mihran and his brother Magar offered me another building, about 15 minutes away from my home. So, I began doing four nights a week and it was a bit hectic. Because of me also, my best friend Hampar started working for them in his own building next to mine. Over the years he became a manager for London Cleaners and many years later he bought the whole business with its many stores. Myself, I continued working for the cleaners throughout my high school years, even when I got a job in a hamburger restaurant where I worked a whole Summer before graduation. That’s another story about hamburger joints. Come to the University time, I complained to Mihran and Magar that I had to concentrate on my studies, and I would not be able to continue working for them. So, I found a replacement for me in our building. He was a young Armenian from Beirut. But he turned out to be lazy and irresponsible. In six months, the business in our building went down so badly that London Cleaners decided to close down its operation there.

As I began my first year of university, Mihran and his brother assigned me to a new building in downtown…I could go to work two nights a week after my classes easily. It was convenient, but my heart was not in it, and I quit after a few months. My studies were more important than the money I was making. My dry cleaning career ended like that.

Hemshin language is under threat

Although not as fantastical as this, through ignoring the issue, emphasizing national identity or a supra-identity, and underscoring religious identity, many Hemshin people are trying to deny, belittle, or ignore their own identity and historical past. Of course, many other Hemshin people are increasingly trying to embrace their own language and identity. In particular, ‘Hamşentsnag’, or the Hemshin language, which is under threat of extinction, faces a serious threat due to the rapid decline in its use among younger generations in recent years. The fact that there are Hemshin people who give their children names in their own language and those who choose Hemshin words for the names and brands of their workplaces and companies also shows that there is a growing movement to embrace the Hemshin language. However, as a natural consequence of urbanization, the Hemshin language is losing ground to a serious degree. Considering that it is regarded as the most defining element of Hemshin identity, and at a time when efforts are being made to produce a new history for the Hemshin people through an artificial writing of history and, by this means, to Turkify them, the importance of preserving the language is therefore doubled.

Apart from these debates within the Hemshin community itself, how the state and authorities define the Hemshin people also constitutes one of the most important topics in discussions about Hemshin history. There was previously an Ottoman document dated 1913 published in Agos. This document was a letter written by the Fourth Branch of the General Staff Department (Umum Erkan-ı Harbiye Dairesi) to the Ministry of the Interior (Dahiliye Nezâret-i Celîlesi). The letter, dated 25 Cemâziyelâhir [1]331 and 19 May [1]329 (June 1, 1913), reads as follows:
“The population of the villages of Zurpici (Yoldere), Arvala (Eşmekaya, Çimenli), Çavuşlu, Hayki, Zargina (Güneşli), and Gvarçı (Hendek), located within the area of the Hopa Border Company in the Hopa district of Trabzon Province, consists of Muslims who converted from Armenians known as Hemshin, while the entire population of the remainder of the district consists entirely of Muslim Laz people; a report belonging to the Hopa Company of the Russian Border Commissioner states that, because the Hemshin people are naive and ignorant, a missionary could operate successfully in this area, and that it is extremely important that our local government provide warnings and guidance to the Hemshin people for this reason; as this matter has been deemed noteworthy, we respectfully request that the necessary action be taken, sir.” (BOA, File: 116, Folder no.: 65, Fund code: DH.İD.- 1331. C. 28.)

Based on this document, the Ministry of the Interior sent a letter to Trabzon Province on 27 Cemâziyelâhir [1]331–21 May [1]329 (June 3, 1913), under document number 388:
“It has been reported to our Ministry of Defense, based on a letter from our commission on the Russian border, that the people of the villages of Zurpici (Yoldere), Arvala (Eşmekaya, Çimenli), Çavuşlu, Hayki, Zargina (Güneşli), and Gvarçı (Hendek), located on the Hopa Border Company side, who were originally Armenian but converted their religion and became known as Hemshin, are liable to fall prey to missionaries’ deceptions because of their naivety and ignorance, and that the people of the villages of Gvarçı (Hendek) openly and innocently state this; that the Hemshin people therefore need to be enlightened and shown the right path by the local government; the letter explaining the situation has been deemed noteworthy, and the necessary action should be taken.” (BOA, File: 116, Folder no.: 65, Fund code: DH.İD.- 1331. C. 28.)

How does the Republican era define Hemshin people?

This document showed that during the Ottoman period, Hemshin people were officially defined as a community that was originally Armenian and had converted to Islam. We now have documents concerning how the Republic defined Hemshin people. One of the documents found in the archives by researcher and writer İrfan Çağatay Aleksiva is an intelligence report whose confidentiality was lifted under approval dated July 10, 2025, no. 148317. The report, dated April 5, 1930, contains various assessments and findings concerning the districts of Trabzon, Rize, and Artvin. The report uses language that views the local population speaking only Turkish, alongside populations speaking Laz, Georgian, Greek, and Armenian, as a potential danger. For example, regarding the people of Trabzon, the document states, ‘although they do not know the Laz language, they certainly do not like Turks either.’ The people of Rize who did not know the language were described as follows: “They do not speak or know any language other than Turkish. This population, which regards its interests as superior to all national and patriotic sentiments, has not yet understood today’s regime.” An interesting detail in the document is that, regarding Of, where today very few people speak Greek, it states that ‘Greek language is predominant in Of.’

In the section about Atina (Pazar), the document states that “there are quite a number of Armenian converts among Hemshin people.” (Presidency of the Republic of Türkiye Directorate of State Archives, Fund Name: Prime Ministry General Directorate of Administrative Affairs, Fund Code: 30-10-0-0, Box No.: 112, File No.: 759, Folder No.: 14)
The wording in the document clearly indicates that during the Republican period, just as during the Ottoman period, the Hemshin people were officially defined as ‘Armenian converts.’

“Freeing them from the influence of foreign languages and customs”

Another document, likewise declassified under approval dated July 10, 2025, no. 148317, is dated June 8, 1936. The document is a report submitted to the prime minister’s office under the title ‘Regarding the Cultural Condition of Çoruh Province, a beautiful part of the Homeland that remained under Tsarist rule for nearly half a century and is of great importance to the sensitivity and dignity of the Country and even the State.’

“In order to instill national spirit and culture in the people of Çoruh Province, who have only recently been liberated from Tsarist rule, some of whom speak Laz, some Georgian, and one district Armenian, and whose cultural condition is equal to zero, and to free these people living on the frontier from the influence of foreign languages and customs, it is requested that this province be provided from the general budget each year with an assistance of no less than 25,000 lira for the need for primary schools, which cannot be adequately met from local revenues.

A copy of the correspondence written to the Ministry of Education regarding this matter is attached.” (Presidency of the Republic of Türkiye Directorate of State Archives, Fund Name: Prime Ministry General Directorate of Administrative Affairs, Fund Code: 30-10-0-0, Box No.: 71, File No.: 464, Folder No.: 10)

It turns out there was a motivation to assimilate

For years, Artvin was regarded as one of the most educated and modern cities in Turkey and held up as an example. This document shows what motivation was behind the educational investments made in the region from the early years of the Republic onward. Apparently, behind the narrative of a contemporary, democratic and modern Artvin that many of us held up as an example for years, there was a motivation to ‘instill [Turkish] national spirit and culture’ in a population speaking Laz, Georgian and Armenian that was deemed to have ‘zero cultural status’, in other words, to assimilate them into Turkish identity. We thought we were becoming enlightened, but it turns out we were being assimilated! And sadly, we see that throughout the history of the Republic, ‘national spirit and culture’ was instilled in many people among the Hemshin Armenians, Laz and Georgians to the point of making them deny their culture, history, and identity.

Indeed, in the very first pages, the government declares that this ideology received popular approval in the June 7 elections and defines 29,743 square kilometers as the state’s sole legitimate geographic reference. I ended the article I wrote last year on the party congress program with the question, “Is Real Armenia an ideology, or the name of a difficult test?” We now know part of the answer. Pashinyan sees it not as an election slogan, but as the founding doctrine of the Fourth Republic.

The most coherent aspect of the program is also here. Foreign policy, security, economy, education, citizenship, and artificial intelligence are not disconnected sections; they are parts of the same vision of the state. The security section says that “peace is the only effective and reliable guarantee of security,” while the army is described as a “reserve instrument” to be brought into play when diplomacy fails. More importantly, it is explicitly stated that the Armed Forces cannot be used beyond recognized borders except for international peacekeeping missions. It would be difficult to find a clearer expression of the rupture in the state’s thinking after Karabakh.

What does the “Turkey” section contain?

The same logic applies both externally and internally. The emphasis is not on a “Russia or the West” dichotomy, but on a “balanced and balancing” model. Visa liberalization with the EU, TRIPP with the United States, and a “transforming partnership” with Russia are addressed within the same framework. Turkey section is more concrete than ever before. Diplomatic relations, the opening of the border, at least two modern crossing points, and the reconnection of transport, energy, and digital infrastructure are explicitly set out. Sovereignty is now measured not only by the ability to protect borders, but also by the capacity to generate energy, process data, sell goods, and reach different markets. In my article last year, I wrote, “If there are rails on the one side of the Crossroads of Peace, there will be data on the other”; the program has turned this analogy almost into official policy.

Citizenship tied to “residence”

The program describes not only the economy and security, but also the emotional relationship between citizens and the state. It says education should create a “state-centered sociopsychology”, and that citizens should love and trust the state. Continuing the line that began in the previous party program, patriotism is taken out of the realm of bombast and reduced to paying taxes, trusting institutions, and generating prosperity. Citizenship, meanwhile, is tied to ethnic origin less than to residence and to Armenia being the person’s “center of vital interests,” which also applies to someone coming from the diaspora.

Catholicos election

One of the most striking sections is the heading “spiritual security.” The government is turning the reform of the Armenian Apostolic Church into state policy. It lays out a process ranging from the removal of the church’s de facto head to a new statute and the election of a new Catholicos. However, objecting to the politicization of the Church is one thing; having the state write into its program who will become the head of the Church is another.

The same question applies to the new Constitution. The program defines the Constitution as the common political contract of the people and says that the draft will be opened to broad public and expert debate. While this is the right approach, the text is also cautious because in the Parliament 70 votes are required to put a new constitutional draft to referendum. It does not say, “Referendum will be held”; it says, “steps will be taken to put it to referendum.” The real issue, however, is that if you declare the election results as the “popular approval of the Real Armenia ideology” on the very first page of your program, it is fair to ask how open-ended the debate you are going to initiate can actually be.

And besides the text there is a reality that should not be forgotten. While the program was being approved by 63 votes in favor and 24 against, former President Robert Kocharyan was at the Anti-Corruption Committee, while his elder son Sedrak has been detained for two months. The detention came the day after his other son, Levon Kocharyan, had a confrontation with Pashinyan in Parliament during the program debate. In this form, the program passed through a Parliament that itself is not yet fully settled.

Nevertheless, I see the 2026–2031 program as the most comprehensive design of the state of the Pashinyan era. Its goals are measurable and provide a clear answer to what postwar Armenia wants to become. But precisely because of this comprehensiveness, its test will be a difficult one. If “Real Armenia” remains Armenia of the merely ruling power, the Fourth Republic will become a name for just an era. If it can create a common state in which the opposition, the Church, the diaspora, and those who did not vote for the ruling party can also live, then we can truly begin to speak of a new Republic.

According to the latest development, Minister of National Education Yusuf Tekin told AKP MP Sevan Sıvacıoğlu that “there is no new regulation regarding guest students studying at Armenian community schools, and that schools are continuing their educational activities in accordance with the existing regulation.”

In a statement to Agos in the morning of August 26, Sıvacıoğlu said that he discussed the issue with Minister of National Education Yusuf Tekin. According to Sıvacıoğlu's statement, during the meeting with Minister of National Education Yusuf Tekin, the ministry conveyed the message that “there is no new regulation regarding guest students studying at Armenian community schools in recent days, and that schools are to continue their educational activities in accordance with the existing regulation.”

Following this development, Armenian schools in Turkey are expected to continue accepting students from Armenia.

In our article titled “Is a restriction on students at minority schools coming?” which we brought to the agenda last week, we reported that inspectors from the Ministry of National Education had visited Armenian schools and conducted examinations concerning students from Armenia. As part of the inspections, we reported that the inspectors had told school principals that they could no longer accept Armenian nationals as guest students and that those students who were already registered should be transferred to state or private schools. The inspectors had also requested information from school principals regarding the fate of students from Armenia who had received their education in last 10 years. According to the information we obtained, the inspections were not directed solely at Armenian schools and people from Armenia; Greek and Jewish schools were also included in the scope of the inspections.

However, the Regulation on Private Educational Institutions of the Ministry of National Education, published in the Official Gazette dated March 20, 2012, included the provision: “Foreign-national guest students may also receive education at schools, taking into account the institution's enrollment capacity; however, diplomas may not be issued to these students. Those leaving the school shall be provided with a document issued by the school administration regarding the courses they attend and the grades they receive.”

Armenian schools have been accepting students from Armenia for approximately 14 years, taking this provision into account. However, diplomas could not be issued to these students.

During the previous academic year, approximately 50 students from Armenia were studying at Armenian schools. The fact that students from Armenia have been receiving education at Armenian schools for 14 years also provides an opportunity for dialogue to be established between Armenians from Turkey and students from Armenia.

The reason for the inspection of students from Armenia at Armenian schools in recent weeks, however, has not yet been clarified.

The tough problem I mentioned above was what they called “Canadian experience”. Wherever I looked for a job, and they were mostly menial ones like pumping gas at gas stations or cleaning cafeterias, they would ask, “Do you have Canadian experience? “It was such an absurd question that, in my thirty seven years of living there, I never understood. How was a newcomer from another country to have Canadian experience if no one would hire them to get it eventually? It was like a vicious circle...No experience, No job-No job, No experience! Did people really clean floors and tables differently in different countries? Many times, I begged them to take me, train me without pay for a few days so that I could have that experience, but they all claimed they had no time to train. I suspect it is because of the paranoia of business people in a competitive capitalist system, as if they will teach you an amazing skill and after you master it, you will run away and work for someone else. Absurd! After a while, I gave up looking for a job.

But life is full of lucky breaks, and I can claim that I have had a few of them. One evening there was a knock on our door and when I opened, it was the dry cleaning man who had come to pick up our clothes. He had been coming twice a week for a few months then. He would pick up our clothes, dry clean them and then deliver them back a couple of days later. It was a special service he had arranged with the superintendent of our building which had more than a hundred apartments. He was an Armenian from Istanbul named Mihran. Before leaving, he asked me to call my mother. When she came, he told us that his business was growing and he had no time to continue doing this service in our building. So, he asked me if I wanted to take over. The question was both for me and my mother. He explained that he would come on Tuesday and Friday evenings to hand over the dry-cleaned clothes for me to deliver and collect the money. I would also pick up and organize the new orders from the customer apartments. He had a long list, and he promised I would get a 25% commission of the total I collected. My mother looked at me and I nodded a ‘yes’. My answer made Mihran very happy. I had agreed without knowing what I was getting myself into.

Thus began my first job in Canada. On the agreed hour on those two evenings, I would go down to the superintendent, pick up a hanging-rack trolley (similar to the bellboy trolleys in hotels), go to the front entrance of the building where Mihran would come in his van and hand over the night’s delivery. Most of the clothes were on hangers and covered with transparent nylon. The rest were folded in paper packages at the customer’s request. Mihran would hand me a piece of paper with the total I was to collect written on it. Then, I would take the elevator to the top floor and start knocking on the doors to deliver the clothes. The clothes were organized in floor and apartment sequences. I would knock on a door, the customer would open, get his delivery, pay me, and hand me new clothes to be dry-cleaned for next time. I had triple carbon-copy receipts on which I wrote all the items they gave me. One copy went to them and the other two I put with their order rolled up in a big canvas bag.

Once a floor was done, I would take the elevator down to the next and continue delivering and picking up the same way. Sometimes the customers would not open the door so their clothes would stay on the rack for next time. The whole thing would take about three hours. Once finished, I would take the trolley back to the superintendent. I would go home and do the counting of the total I had collected, considering that some customers did not pay because they were not home. Mihran would come next morning and take the big bag for dry cleaning.

The first night I worked, I realized that accepting this job had been a good decision.

 To be continued

A city’s memory is not always preserved in stone or archives. Sometimes it lives in a melody. Istanbul’s past is often told through the stories of empires, demolished neighborhoods, and transformed districts. Yet this city has another layer of memory: sound.

It is invisible to the eye, heard by the ear, immortalized in memory. In church hymns, wedding songs, gatherings at home, in the sound left behind from the everyday noise spilling into the streets. Armenian-language oral music is one of Istanbul’s oldest yet least spoken-about memories.

Armenian-language oral music is not merely an aesthetic production; it is a way of remembering. Extending from church hymns to the ashugh tradition, from laments of exile to the modern sounds of the diaspora, this music carries the ruptures, migrations, and continuity of a people.

When language becomes melody, history does not fall silent; it simply changes form.

In Istanbul, some voices do not disappear. They simply change places. Sometimes they are heard again in a church courtyard in Kumkapı, sometimes at a wedding in Samatya, and sometimes in a melody spilling out from a room in an old apartment in Beyoğlu.

This music is not a folklore display. It is a living layer of memory.

No melody was born alone on these lands. Armenian melodies came into contact with Kurdish dengbêj narratives, formed affinities with the resonance of Syriac hymns, and flowed alongside the modal movements of Anatolian folk songs. Long before the divisions, voices were already intertwined.

Then came a rupture. It was not only people who were scattered, muted, and displaced; voices were too. After 1915, Armenian-language oral music split into two paths: the inward-turned voice of those who remained in Istanbul and the louder memory carried into the diaspora. The voice that remained in this city has shrunk. It withdrew from large halls into small rooms, from public squares into enclosed courtyards. But it did not disappear. Because music is the most stubborn form of existence.

One of the most important witnesses to this memory is Gomidas Vardapet. He did not merely collect melodies; he recorded the sound map of this geography. In his notebooks, languages stand side by side: Kurdish, Armenian, Turkish… They simply turn the page; they do not separate from one another.

Today, Armenian-language oral music may not be highly visible in Turkey. But visibility does not always mean existence. The fact that a language continues to be sung as a song, that an instrument still breathes, that a melody is played inside a home, even if only in a whisper, is a powerful form of continuity.

The sounds of Istanbul overlap with one another. The sound of bells mingles with the call to prayer, the ferry’s whistle with the cry of seagulls, an old hymn with a street song. Armenian-language oral music is also part of this mixture.

The city has changed. People disappeared. But the sound did not vanish completely. Because sound is the most enduring form of memory. Some cities remember not through history, but through sound. A duduk rising in Istanbul, I believe, is one of them.

Author’s note: This article is an attempt to remember the traces of Armenian-language oral music within Istanbul’s multilayered cultural memory and the continuity of the voices that still circulate through the city.

Although the building’s official registered name has not yet been definitively established, historical archival documents reveal its remarkable and vibrant past. While its name has not been formally registered with certainty today, records of the Armenian Patriarchate of Istanbul suggest that the structure may be the Surp Krikor Lusavoriç Church, built in the village of Özerli in 1877. According to S. Eprigyan’s “Historical Texts”, Özerli then was a remarkably lively settlement of 300 households, 250 Armenian and 50 Muslim. It is noted that the Armenians there spoke Turkish in their daily lives. The village contained a beautiful church called “Diramayr” (Holy Mother of God), a school, a marketplace, extensive gardens, and a tobacco-registry building. In fact, during the summer months, the district governor’s office of Payas would even move its administrative center to this cool and prosperous village. A structure that had witnessed such a deeply rooted administrative, economic, and cultural history now stands in a state that is, sadly, its complete opposite.

According to information gathered during visits and examinations of the historic structure and site by Garen Kazanç, the building’s original roof collapsed and was replaced with a makeshift wooden roof covered with tiles, while its windows were bricked up with concrete blocks. The historic inscription above the main entrance has also, unfortunately, been removed. Left unprotected, with its floor completely covered in earth, the historic church ruins have been used over the years as a hayloft or stable. Accounts from local residents and people living in the surrounding area also clearly indicate that the building was used for many years as a shelter for goats, during which time its structural integrity was seriously damaged.

Cultural Heritage or Simply a “Ruined Building”?

The most significant legal and bureaucratic obstacle that is believed to have prevented the building from ever being placed under protection is its ownership status. Official land-registry and cadastral records reportedly classify the property not as a place of worship or historic monument, but simply as a “Ruined Building and Its Plot of Land.” This appears to indicate that the structure is probably privately owned and registered to an individual.

Under Turkey’s legislation concerning the protection of cultural heritage, structures of this kind that are privately owned and either unregistered or stalled in the registration process may be prevented from receiving state protection because of legal barriers such as insufficient funds for expropriation and protections surrounding private property rights. Local authorities likewise cannot restore them under these circumstances.

With its windows sealed with concrete blocks, its walls defaced with spray paint, and its interior turned into a shelter for goats, this structure is a silent witness to Hatay’s multilayered historical memory. With its ceiling deteriorating and its roof left unprotected, it is yet another piece of shared cultural heritage that risks being completely erased from Dörtyol’s historical landscape.

In fact, the regulation itself was inadequate and created grievances, because, as noted, these students could not receive diplomas. The fact that the same students could receive diplomas if they attended public schools but could not acquire the right to a diploma by attending Armenian schools, was both a violation of the right to education and an inconsistency. Moreover, public schools obviously could not—and still cannot—provide Armenian students from Armenia or Syria with education in their mother tongue. Therefore, the most sensible and rational solution for these children was to officially attend Armenian schools and receive official diplomas.

However, while an improvement in this direction was expected, the situation is now being regressed even further: these children are being deprived of their status as guest students, their ability to attend Armenian schools is being eliminated, and they are being required to attend public schools instead. (This will probably not be a regulation applicable only to Armenian schools. Greek and Jewish schools are likely to be included as well.)

So, the question before us is this: Why would a state need such a regulation? Why would it want to prevent these children from being educated together with their peers who speak the same language?

To answer this question, it is useful to provide a little background. In Turkey, Armenian schools (as well as other minority schools) are regulated under the 2007 Law No. 5580 on Private Educational Institutions. Under the same law, beside private schools, foreign schools, and even such completely unrelated institutions as private driving schools are handled. This in itself is a situation that does not correspond to reality, because Armenian and other minority schools fit none of these definitions. They are not schools established by private individuals for profit; they are not schools established by foreign nationals; and they certainly are not driving schools! These schools need a separate legal framework that reflects their actual identity and defines them as what they really are.

Yet despite being classified as private schools, they are not allowed to enroll just any student they want because Articles 2 and 5 of the aforementioned law stipulate that only the children of Turkish citizens belonging to that particular minority may attend these schools. Although it is not our subject here, how “belonging to a minority group” should be certified has long been a problem. The root of today’s problem concerning the exclusion of foreign-national students from these schools lies in the articles of this law. The 2012 regulation had introduced some flexibility into this restriction.

To repeat our question after this background: Why does the state not want foreign-national Armenian students to be educated, or even to be present, at Armenian schools in Turkey? After all, these are schools attended by Turkish citizens, operating within the framework of the laws and curriculum of the Turkish state and under the state’s supervision. Are these schools not problematic for citizens but somehow problematic for foreign nationals? This does not make sense.

Let us put it plainly, without beating around the bush: From the very beginning, the aim of the state in Turkey has been to reduce the number of Armenians as much as possible and ultimately eliminate them completely, alongside the other non-Muslim minorities; to unravel, weaken, and assimilate Armenian identity. Keeping schools under control and pressure was, of course, one of the most important components of this policy. Indeed, from the perspective of those implementing it, the policy was successful. In parallel with the Armenian population, the number of students in Armenian schools steadily declined, and continues to decline.

Therefore, bringing new energy to these schools by adding some students from outside, even if the number is small, is something the state would not want. In other words, if the objective is to reduce the number of students, taking a step that would increase that number contradicts state policy. In addition to this quantitative aspect, students from Armenia have also brought a qualitative contribution and interaction to Armenian identity. In other words, when İşhan Erdinç wrote in the aforementioned report that “the education of students from Armenia in Armenian schools for 14 years has also enabled dialogue to develop between Armenians from Turkey and students from Armenia,” he was, knowingly or unknowingly, pointing precisely to the reason why the state has decided to terminate the guest-student system.

Although saying it after 14 years is legally and morally unacceptable, I believe the authorities’ statement that “that regulation actually did not cover your [minority] school” is entirely sincere and reflects the reality. This was probably something they had overlooked and have only noticed now. And I suspect what led them to notice it was MAZLUM-DER’s well-intentioned initiative seeking to eliminate the students’ rights violations and enable them to receive diplomas as regular students.

Can those, who think the reasons and reasoning in this article are not true, offer any other explanations that are compatible with reason, logic, and conscience?

Up to this point, everything is fine, but what comes next is a complete black hole for me. The other person speaks at length in Russian, while I spend an equally long time not understanding. Which entrance of the apartment building to use, which doorbell to press, whether to turn right or left… As all of this is spoken in fast, fluent Russian, as an Armenian from Turkey who has never learned the language, all I can helplessly do on the phone is to say, “Sorry, English?” English doesn’t work either, and sometimes the other person doesn’t know Armenian, either. Then we both end up sitting silently at either end of the phone; in those moments, even the silence on the phone weighs heavily on you. Once you place an order, you find yourself eagerly waiting not only to see when the food will arrive but also wondering in which language you will open the door.

Yerevan’s new soundscape

One of the things that has changed most rapidly in Yerevan in recent years is the sound of its streets. When I first moved to this city, all the deliverers were local Armenians, and language was easily resolved in the familiar warmth of the home environment. Now, the city is almost shedding its skin with people arriving from all over the world. Diaspora Armenians arriving through reverse migration from Lebanon, Syria, Iran, France and Canada are turning Yerevan into a vibrant, promising center. The distinctive sound of Western Armenian is being added to the Eastern Armenian heard on the streets.

But this revitalization has a hidden common denominator: almost none of these newcomers are likely to know Russian! As the city’s soundscape expands, linguistic walls are rising just as quickly. And this transformation is not limited to the diaspora either; for a while, almost all the deliverers seemed to be Indian, whereas now the phone screen is a complete surprise box. Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Nepal... A city’s soundscape migrates just like its people.

Continents intersecting, common words

The other night, I ordered again. It was late, and I was starving. Finally, the phone rang and, just as I expected, it began again with that determined Russian intonation. The courier couldn’t find the apartment building; the more he explained, the less I understood, and the more I tried to give directions, the more stuck he became. He went upstairs, came back down; inside the apartment, I was frantically moving from room to room with my phone in my hand. A moment of alienation in which it felt as though we were not within the boundaries of the same apartment building but on entirely different continents…

Eventually, overwhelmed by hunger and the helplessness created by that impenetrable language barrier, my patience ran out completely. Without thinking, purely as a reflex, the protest burst out of my mouth in Turkish:

“Ya nereden bileyim ben Rusça! / How am I supposed to know Russian!”

The phone went silent. The line froze for a moment, and there was a deep silence.

Then came the sentence:

“Pardon… Türkçe konuşabiliyor musunuz? / Sorry… do you speak Turkish?”

Familiarity on the threshold

Suddenly, we both relaxed. I can’t describe how the invisible weight on our shoulders seemed to lift. “I can speak it,” I said. “Me too,” he said. As it turned out, amid all that confusion, that linguistic labyrinth that had been going on for minutes, our common language had been Turkish all along. I immediately gave his directions to the door. Two minutes later, we were standing face-to-face on the doorstep, me holding a bag of food. He looked at my name on the order receipt, and a huge smile appeared on her face: “Your name is Maral,” he said, “There are lots of people with that name where we come from, too.”

“Where are you from?” I asked. With that familiar intonation in his voice, he told me he was from Tashkent, Uzbekistan. At that moment, I realized that we, who had met in that apartment stairwell, were actually both complete strangers to each other and, at the same time, deeply familiar.

For years in Yerevan, because I didn’t know Russian, I had always felt somehow incomplete, pushed outside that linguistic geography. That night, for the first time, I laughed out loud at this deficiency of mine. I knew Armenian, he knew Russian; English, declared as the common denominator of the global world, was no use whatsoever in our communication and brought us together on the threshold of a third language we had never expected.

Istanbul in the hairdresser’s mirror

And I soon realized that this kind of linguistic encounter wasn’t limited to couriers or apartment stairwells either. I was accustomed to Armenians from Syria, Lebanon or Iran, who are familiar with Turkish and Turkish television series; this was an entirely normal cultural reflex. But did you know that local Armenians from Armenia watch Turkish TV series, too?

I learned this from the woman who dyed my hair at the hairdresser’s the other day. At one point, our eyes met in the mirror, and while combing my hair she suddenly asked: “Oh Maral, do you watch Uzak Şehir [Distant City]?” As my eyes widened in astonishment, she added with great admiration on her face: “Very beautiful, very beautiful!” And she said it word for word in Turkish! At that moment, a very strange, ironic wave of astonishment rose inside me. You travel all the way from Istanbul to the heart of Yerevan, and just when you are overwhelmed by the language barrier, you suddenly come face-to-face with the boundlessness of popular culture while sitting in a hair salon with hair dye on your head.

Immediately afterward, another woman from the next chair joined the conversation: “Oh, I absolutely love Çukur [Hole] and that boy in it!” Thankfully, I had watched Çukur back in the day, so I was able to pick up the conversation from there and save the situation. Suddenly, I found myself in a Yerevan hair salon, acting like Istanbul’s unofficial popular-culture ambassador, confirming the handsomeness of Turkish actors. As soon as I left the salon, overwhelmed by the absurd comedy of the situation, I felt an urge to rush onto the internet and look up those series I knew nothing about. After all, if someone asks me about another series one of these days, I should at least be a little more familiar with the subject as an unofficial representative.

Under the roof of a common word

I often think of these encounters while walking on the streets of Yerevan. On one side, a deliverer who has left Central Asia behind in search of a livelihood; on the other, a shared cultural curiosity spilling from television screens in a Yerevan hair salon… Those thick lines drawn by politics, borders and history suddenly become thinner through the ordinary flow of life, popular culture, or simply the urgency of food delivery.

Sometimes you understand that a city truly changes not from population statistics, but from the language spoken by the person knocking on your door or the name of a TV series that catches your ear at the hairdresser’s. Yerevan has taught me this again and again. Sometimes people find one another not because they are citizens of the same country or official owners of the same language, but because, at an entirely unexpected moment, they establish a tiny connection in an apartment stairwell or in a hairdresser’s mirror. And sometimes a city’s real story is hidden in that tiny acquaintance you make with someone you never expected to meet.

MAZLUMDER’s General Headquarters, which is a civil society organization defending human rights, issued a statement to Agos regarding the matter, saying: “Our main concern when addressing this issue was that students who had attended Armenian minority schools could not receive diplomas and could not continue on to high school. However, at least they had the opportunity to attend school, even if only as guest students, and subsequently continue their high school education in Armenia. With the latest development, we are now facing the danger that even this opportunity will be taken away from these children.”

Education Commission meets

Following the developments, the Armenian Foundations Union (ERVAB) Education Commission discussed the issue at a meeting held on Monday evening, August 17. Some school principals and representatives of school founders attended the meeting, held at the Gomidas Hall of the Yedikule Surp Pırgiç Hospital. In addition to the situation of students from Armenia, the meeting addressed curriculum work for Armenian language and religion classes, the situation of individuals with special needs, and teachers’ social security status. Senior Priest Dırtad Uzunyan, who attended the meeting, shared information about the religion curriculum and the process concerning this issue. Representatives of Huys Association, established within the Armenian community of Turkey to benefit individuals with special needs, also attended the meeting. Association representatives described the difficulties they encountered during the student enrollment period and stated that a more sensitive and inclusive approach should be adopted during this process. The association’s management said that they were preparing to support schools by employing a special educator within their organization and requested financial support from ERVAB for this purpose. The new Armenian-language curriculum requested by the Ministry of National Education was also discussed, and participants were informed about the work being carried out in this area and the stage reached. The social security and insurance status of teachers working at more than one school was also among the issues discussed at the meeting.

Foundation heads to meet

In a written statement issued after the meeting, regarding the situation of guest students, it was said: “In the meeting, the enrollment status of children from Armenia at our schools was discussed, and the opinions and assessments of the participants on the matter were received.”

According to information we have obtained, school principals do not yet know the reason for the inspection. The schools will wait for the inspectors to complete their investigations. It was also stated that a meeting at the level of foundation heads could be held at ERVAB next week. In this context, it is expected that the foundation heads or the Armenian Patriarchate of Turkey will contact the Ministry of National Education. It was stated that Patriarch Maşalyan and AKP Member of Parliament Assoc. Prof. Dr. Sevan Sıvacıoğlu may also attend the meeting.

Statement from DMM

The Center for Combating Disinformation (DMM), affiliated with the Directorate of Communications, an official body, also issued a statement regarding the repercussions of our report on the practice of accepting guest students at minority schools. The statement reads: “Posts on some social media accounts and in the press that create the impression that ‘minority schools are specifically being targeted with various restrictions’ contain disinformation and target social peace and unity. No new practice is being introduced concerning these schools beyond the provisions stipulated in the relevant law; schools continue their educational activities. The public is strongly urged not to give credence to unfounded claims and manipulative content.”

2012 regulation

The Ministry of National Education Regulation on Private Educational Institutions was published in the Official Gazette dated March 20, 2012. The regulation included the following provision: “Foreign-national guest students may also receive education at schools, considering the institution’s capacity; however, diplomas cannot be issued to these students. Those leaving the school shall be given a document issued by the school administration indicating the courses they attended and the grades they received.”

Taking this provision into account, Armenian schools have been accepting students from Armenia for approximately 14 years. However, diplomas could not be issued to these students.

During the past academic year, approximately 50 students from Armenia were receiving education at Armenian schools. The fact that students from Armenia have been studying at Armenian schools for 14 years also provides an opportunity for dialogue to be established between Armenians from Turkey and students from Armenia.

An agreement on the reopening of the railway was reached between Armenia and Turkey in September 2025, during a visit to Armenia by Turkey’s special envoy, Serdar Kılıç. Following the meeting, the Armenian side announced that the relevant institutions of the two countries would conduct technical assessments aimed at restoring the railway and the electricity transmission line to operation.

The Turkish side has also issued statements regarding efforts to renew the railway infrastructure. Ergüder Toptaş, mayor of Akyaka, a district bordering the Shirak region, said about a month ago that work being carried out upon the instructions of the Turkish president was expected to be completed within 2–3 months.

If the railway is reopened, the issue of differing railway standards will also need to be resolved. In Armenia, railway tracks have a 1520-millimeter gauge, while in Turkey they use a 1435-millimeter gauge. According to Davit Khudatyan, these differences need to be taken into account when designing new infrastructure, so that no problems arise when connecting railways built according to Soviet and European standards.

Those wishing to participate in the Academy must complete the application form in full and submit it by September 6, 2026. The results will be communicated to applicants by email by September 23, 2026.

The program will consist of two stages. In the first stage, there will be four days of in-person learning, while in the second stage, there will be two online meetings held on separate days. Although the program will be conducted mostly in Turkish, simultaneous interpretation will be provided for seminars in English.

The Academy's curriculum will cover the definition and transformation of the concept of minorities, international and national legislation concerning minorities, the political history of minorities in Türkiye and problems encountered in practice regarding minority rights, comparative studies from different countries, and advocacy. The Academy, whose seminars will be structured around four main pillars—conceptual framework, historical background, comparative politics, and advocacy—will feature experts from different countries.

Who can participate in the Academy?

People interested in minority rights and advocacy and wishing to work in this field are expected to apply to the program, while priority will be given to civil society workers, academics, lawyers, media and public-sector employees who have worked on minority rights, as well as members of minority groups. Participants are expected to have at least a bachelor's degree and to know Turkish.

For detailed information, you can visit the Hrant Dink Foundation's website.

Yalçın stated that no explanation has been provided regarding the reason for the entry ban or its legal basis and filed a lawsuit at the Ankara Administrative Court within the statutory period. The case is still ongoing.

According to Yalçın's statement, there is no criminal case pending against him in Turkey, nor has he been convicted of any crime. Yalçın stated that, despite the Ankara Administrative Court's request, the reports, information, or documents forming the basis of the entry ban have not been provided to his lawyers for eight months.

Yalçın said that this situation prevents him from mounting an effective defense and stated, "Since I do not know what solid information and grounds the decision against me is based on, my ability to effectively defend myself against this decision is seriously restricted."

"I entered and left freely for 30 years"

Yalçın stated that he had been forced to leave Turkey following the September 12 military coup and had lived in Germany for 13 years as a stateless person (haymatlos). He said that he was acquitted of all political cases against him in Turkey in 1995.

Emphasizing that he had entered and left Turkey freely for approximately 30 years since 1995, Yalçın said that finding himself today facing an entry ban whose grounds have not been disclosed was "a grave and difficult-to-understand situation."

"An entry ban on a writer who advocates peace is a contradiction"

Yalçın stated that he had worked as a Turkish teacher in Germany for 30 years and retired in 2018. He recalled that he published 40 books to date and that his works were translated into 16 languages. Yalçın said that he had received numerous awards for his literary work and his contributions to friendship and peace among peoples. He stated that he received the 1998 Abdi İpekçi Turkey Friendship and Peace Special Award and the 1999 Turkey-Greece Friendship and Peace Award for his novel "Emanet Çeyiz" (Entrusted Dowry) and that in 2019 he was honored with the "Writer Who Best Represents Turkey Abroad" award at the Denizli Book Fair.

Yalçın said that, at a time when efforts to seek social peace and democratic solutions are once again on the agenda in Turkey, it is contradictory for an entry ban to be imposed on a writer who has advocated peace and friendship throughout his life, and he called on the authorities to act.

Yalçın demanded that the concrete grounds and legal basis for the entry ban against him be disclosed, that he be enabled to exercise his right to a defense effectively, and that the entry ban, which he believes to be unlawful, be lifted.

Yalçın, who stated that he has lived in Germany for 44 years, concluded his statement with the following words:

"The world is my homeland, Germany is my second homeland, and Turkey is my motherland. In the final years of my life, I want to travel freely to and from my motherland and see my family, friends, and readers. I am hopeful; these days, too, will pass. I will continue writing."

I think a person’s background and upbringing play a big role in how that person relates to the other gender. Throughout my youth, until I moved to Canada, man-woman relationships were something like a mystery, not to be discussed. Premarital relationships such as having a boyfriend or girlfriend was something I hardly heard of or saw. Sex and anything related to it was taboo. Eying a woman was labeled as ‘sexual desire’, and girls were always warned about men’s bad intentions. So, even if I am reluctant to make a generalization about Middle Eastern males, I can say that boys like me kept their attraction to girls a secret. Dreaming secretly about the girls you liked was the norm. And with that came the wait for a signal indicating the girl liked you too. One fleeting look from the girl we were in love with would set us off into a fantasy world believing that it was mutual love. Any declaration of such a feeling, we suspected, would have been misinterpreted as sexual desire and desire was seen as bad. The only thing you could do was to constantly look at the girl secretly whenever you saw her somewhere. Talk about growing up with such complexity! A whole generation of dreamers…

In reality I just want to add one more observation that has stuck with me all these years. Because of our upbringing and outlook on man-woman matters, Middle Eastern men (as well as the men of some other conservative nationalities) often strike foreign women as ‘weird’…sometimes even labeled as ‘stalkers’ and as ‘too persistent’. With majority of the men, this aspect of just looking and anticipating is in fact a very uncomfortable situation for a woman, sometimes even considered dangerous. Very few of the men eventually are able to set themselves free with a new and healthier outlook on women and sexual desire…a relaxed and open minded outlook that might come sometimes from living in different cultures.

My attraction to Mary Ellen eventually turned into a disaster. As the weeks passed, I was more and more infatuated by her. Like all young people in Toronto, she too had a part-time job after school. It just happened that one day as I went to drop off some clothes at the corner dry cleaner, it was Mary Ellen who was at the front desk. Coming face to face with the woman I ‘loved’ secretly, made me so nervous, as if she was going to discover my hidden feelings for her. Anxiety struck me so badly that my whole body was trembling. I kept looking at her without blinking an eye as if to say, ‘here I am, the man in love with you’. But no signal came from her. It became unbearable and I just could not wait to get out of there without getting discovered. She never smiled even once as she handed me the receipt for the clothes. And as I thought about the whole incident that evening, more and more I interpreted her smileless face as a sign that she knew about my feelings, and she hated me for it. I sulked the whole night. How screwed up a boy can be, really!

That nervousness and trembling became the norm after that day. Every time I saw her at school or went to dry cleaners, I would tremble nonstop. And I could not stop staring at her whenever I saw her. It came to such a point that I believe she noticed my ‘weird’ behavior and from that day on, every time she saw I was coming to pick up or drop off clothes, she would disappear in the back of the store and another girl would serve me. I got the message very clearly. At the end of that year, Mary Ellen graduated and I saw a quote from her in the school year book. To the question, “what do you dislike about people?”, she had answered, “their persistence when you say no”. Most probably it had nothing to do with me but you can imagine, with the naive and insecure character I was at that time, how personally I took that quote. My heart was wounded. But wounds heal eventually and the memory of the pain helps build up your character…You unlearn many things you were taught so that you can extinguish your inhibitions and restart with a new outlook.

According to the results shared by the schools, a total of 154 students registered in Armenian high schools. School administrations stated that 13 students carried out transfer procedures to private schools and colleges, 5 students to foreign schools, four students to Anatolian high schools, and one student to a vocational high school. In the 2024-2025 period, 176 students took the LGS. According to the results, 146 students preferred Armenian high schools, and seven students preferred private schools. Looking at this period, an increase was observed in the number of students preferring both Armenian high schools and private schools.

Armenian schools have been accepting students from Armenia for approximately 14 years, taking this provision into account. However, diplomas cannot be issued to these students. According to information we have obtained, inspectors from the Ministry of National Education began conducting inspections at Armenian schools last week. As part of these inspections, the schools were informed that Armenian schools will no longer be able to accept guest students and that only students from the Armenian community of Turkey could receive education there. It is reported that the inspectors arrived for the inspections with lists containing the names of students from Armenia, asked about the fate of guest students who had received education in previous years, and raised the demand that the students’ current registrations, if there is any, be transferred to state schools. It has been learned that the inspections are not limited to Armenian schools and that Greek and Jewish schools are also within their scope.

Armenian schools, which have not faced a problem of this nature regarding the education of students from Armenia for many years, are now waiting for the matter to be resolved. A meeting involving foundation and school administrators is expected to be held in the coming days to discuss the issue. It has also been learned that Patriarch Maşalyan is aware of the matter.

MAZLUMDER: Going back 14 years is a disappointment

The Association for Human Rights and Solidarity for Oppressed People (MAZLUMDER) is working on violations concerning the right to education of students from Armenia. Speaking to Agos, the association said that they were trying to meet with civil society organizations, educational institutions, authorities, and affected families, adding: “Our main point of focus when addressing this issue was that students who had attended Armenian minority schools could not receive diplomas and could not pass on to high school. However, at least they had the opportunity to attend school, even if only as guest students, and then continue their high school education in Armenia. With the latest development, we now face the danger of this opportunity being taken away from these children as well.”

The association’s statement included the following:

“The ability of children who are citizens of Armenia to receive education as guest students became possible with an amendment made to the Regulation on Private Educational Institutions in 2012. In fact, this situation constituted an interim formula for addressing the existing problem. Although grievance continued from that time onward, the situation had been managed to some extent through various palliative solutions. Now, when our and Turkish-Armenian community’s expectation is the definite solution of this problem, regression to the situation 14 years ago would be a great disappointment. For authorities to say ‘actually it does not cover your school’ is incompatible with the principle of the rule of law after so many years during which that regulation has been recognized as a solution to this problem and applied in this manner."

“It must be resolved without allowing grievances to arise”

The statement also issued a call to the authorities: “As is known, the right to education is a universal and non-strippable right, regardless of a child’s nationality, legal status, or the immigration status of their family. The United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, to which Turkey is also a party, explicitly guarantees this right. Therefore, we consider the interruption of the educational process of children who are citizens of Armenia on bureaucratic grounds to be a clear violation of human rights. If the interim formula that has been applied for more than 10 years and has not provided a solution to the problem, it is to be abandoned, what needs to be done is to resolve this problem without allowing any grievances to arise. Our call to the authorities is therefore to make the necessary legal arrangements. The Ministry should work to facilitate every child's right to access education in Turkey. We believe that this problem, whose resolution has been postponed for years, must be resolved with due regard for the best interests of the child and the principles of fundamental human rights.”

The fact that students from Armenia have been receiving education at Armenian schools for 14 years also provides an opportunity for dialogue between Armenians from Turkey and students from Armenia. It is noteworthy that the inspections and the aforementioned orders conveyed to the schools are taking place while the Turkey-Armenia normalization process is going on. In addition to students from Armenia, guest students attending all minority schools had been continuing their education without problems, while the fact that they could not receive diplomas was also a subject of criticism. It is a matter of curiosity why this step has been taken at this particular stage.

But the story does not end here. Because human beings are not merely creatures that forget and become accustomed; they are also creatures that decide to remember. Memory is a biological reflex; it operates spontaneously. But remembering is an act of will. Moreover, deciding not to forget something, keeping it alive in the mind and conscience, is a moral choice.

Letters around the truck picture 

Recently, I went to visit my ninety-three-year-old grandfather. This time, I had not gone simply to see him. I had my phone with me. The stories I had heard in fragments throughout my life from my mother, from him, and from his siblings, I now wanted to record in his own voice. At some point, one realizes that the voices of the people they love have a lifespan too. Then you begin to think about the day when you will hear those voices only in your memories.

When my grandfather sat down at the table, he opened a page beside him. It was not a carefully prepared file. He had taken an old piece of paper he found at home and filled every empty space with notes in his shaky handwriting. Right in the middle of the page was a colorful drawing of a truck that had been made earlier. He had filled even the tiny spaces around the drawing with letters. At first, I could not understand why he had done this. He smiled.

“I wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget,” he said.

It turned out that he had been preparing ever since the day I told him I was coming.

Then he began showing me the notes one by one. His finger moved slowly along the lines, sometimes stopping, sometimes going back, and sometimes correcting a word by saying, “My father said it exactly like this.” He was trying, despite the decades gone by, to convey to me as exactly as possible the sentences he had heard from his own father during his childhood. At that moment, I realized that what was written on that piece of paper was not merely memories; it was a person’s loyalty to his own memory.

Lives passed down through fear

I placed my phone on the table and pressed the record button. “Grandpa, if you’re ready, let’s begin.”

He looked at the paper, then at me. And almost in a whisper, he asked:

“My girl… These won’t come out somewhere, will they? If they ever put me in jail, I couldn’t survive even a single day in there.”

A century passed since the events he was about to describe, but fear was still speaking in the present tense.

After that sentence, everything in the room changed. On the table lay two completely opposite things: On one side, an exiled memory prepared so as not to be forgotten, overflowing into every empty space on the paper… On the other, a ninety-three-year-old man who was still afraid to tell those stories.

Fear and silence

The memory of a people is passed down from generation to generation not only through what they narrate, but also through how they lower their voices as they tell it, the words at which they hesitate, and the moments when they look around before saying certain sentences. Perhaps the heaviest burden of memory is not carrying pain itself, but carrying fear along with that pain, and carrying silence too.

When I returned home, what remained in my mind more than the stories my grandfather had told me was that page on the table. A truck drawn like a child’s picture in the middle, surrounded by sentences carrying exile, loss, and an entire lifetime… The sight of a child’s drawing and a great catastrophe standing side by side on the same piece of paper made me think about memory itself. The past never reaches us in perfectly organized files. Every generation writes its own sentences over the gaps left behind by the lives that came before them. Just as my grandfather did… None of us begins with a blank page.

As much as a page can carry

After thinking about the limits of memory and how conscience gradually becomes accustomed to things over time, I now see more clearly: A person’s duty is neither to remember everything nor to carry all the pain alone. No mind can remain solid under such a burden. The question is how we fill that one page that falls to us.

We will not be able to memorize every name, keep every date in our minds, or respond to every injustice in the world at the same time. But we can choose not to turn our backs on the story of a person who comes before us. When we hear a mother’s voice, we can pause; we can repeat a child’s name within ourselves so that we do not forget it; we can listen to another person’s pain without saying, “What does it have to do with me?”

Humanity begins precisely here: not with great acts of heroism, but with one person taking even a small share of another person’s burden.

Not a legacy, but deposit

That page on the table stays in my mind precisely for this reason; because while the past was being preserved there, the future was also being built. Memory is not a possession we own; it is a deposit we receive from the past. We are responsible for carrying it into the future without diminishing it, contaminating it, or feeding hatred.

To protect this trust does not mean preserving it exactly where it is; it means choosing to remember again after every act of forgetting.

Final word: An act of will

Memory may forget, and conscience may become accustomed. That is why neither of them alone is enough to keep us human. Remembering is not a reflex that the mind performs spontaneously; it is a conscious promise a person makes to themselves.

Perhaps this is the hardest part of being human: When we have the comfort of being able to say, “This is not my problem,” even in the face of suffering we have not experienced, we can choose the opposite. We can take another person’s story into our own conscience. In a world where forgetting is natural and becoming accustomed is easy, we can continue, through an act of will, to keep certain names alive.

Because the world remains standing, by the grace of those who can still say, “I have not become accustomed to this,” even where everyone else has fallen silent.

The statement reads:

"It is a known fact that the negative attitude adopted toward the Armenian Apostolic Church in recent times has been a source of deep sorrow for our people living in Armenia and in the diaspora. The Mother See of Holy Etchmiadzin has for centuries been a force of attraction for our people in terms of faith and a cornerstone of our national and religious unity. The Armenian Church continues to serve its nation in the spirit of Christianity under the leadership of Catholicos Karekin II, the spiritual leader of Armenians throughout the world.

In this context, the judicial proceedings conducted against the Catholicos of All Armenians and the church’s high-ranking bishops, and the fact that they are being called to account before secular authorities in connection with the accusations against them, hurt the dignity of the Armenian Church. This pain is further deepened by the violation of rights guaranteed by the Constitution of the Republic of Armenia.

The Armenian Church also plays an important role in the religious, national, and social life of our people in the diaspora. Therefore, any step that would weaken the sovereignty of the Mother See or undermine its inviolability will also weaken the bonds that have become deeply intertwined between the church and society over the centuries. It is a historical fact that the Church was the most important institution of our people even during periods when there was no state. This institution stands alongside our people through services organized and continuing to be organized according to its own internal dynamics. Therefore, regarding matters concerning the Church, we find it meaningless and hurtful to seek criminal elements in the statements of the Catholicos of All Armenians and the institutions subordinate to him. These processes hurts not only the Mother See, but also all the important positions of the Armenian Church, its clergy, and its inter-church relations.

As the Armenian Patriarchate of Turkey, we declare our solidarity with the Catholicos of All Armenians and his high-ranking bishops. We warn all those responsible not to bring the decisions of the Armenian Church and its clergy before civil judicial authorities. Our prayers are for the Catholicos of All Armenians, the members of the Supreme Spiritual Council, our spiritual centers, our faithful people, and the authorities of the Republic of Armenia. May God grant them all wisdom and common sense, strengthen our Church, and bring peace to our people."

What happened?

The Catholicos and five members of the Supreme Spiritual Council are accused of abusing their official positions and deliberately preventing the implementation of a court ruling.

The investigation developed following the removal of Bishop Gevorg Saroyan from his position as Bishop of the Diocese of Masis (Masyatsotn).

Gevorg Saroyan, who was removed from office in January 2026 by a decision of Catholicos Karekin II, pursued legal action. The court ruled that Saroyan should remain in his position until a final decision was issued and that the Armenian Apostolic Church should not interfere with the bishop’s exercise of his authority or with his control over the diocese’s financial accounts.

Prosecutors state that, despite the court ruling, the Catholicos and the Supreme Spiritual Council knowingly violated the court’s decision by barring Saroyan from priesthood.

In addition to Karekin II, criminal complaints were also filed against Archbishop Nathan Hovhannisyan, Archbishop Haykazun Najaryan, Bishop Vahan Hovhannesyan, Bishop Edgar Hakobyan, and Bishop Artur Hakobyan. Authorities had also imposed a travel ban on the Catholicos.

Saroyan was among ten bishops who had openly called for Karekin II’s resignation.

According to the report, at least 150 women were murdered by men in the first six months of 2026, while during the same period, at least 151 women were found dead under suspicious circumstances, such as falling from balconies or deaths staged as suicides. It was also revealed that the deaths of 12 women, previously recorded as suspicious, were in fact femicides. The report further noted that the number of suspicious deaths exceeding that of confirmed murders indicates perpetrators' tendency to cover up killings, as well as shortcomings in the investigation processes.

Perpetrators of women are those closest to them

According to the report, the vast majority of women are killed by acquaintances, partners, or former partners. In the first six months of 2026, husbands, ex-husbands, male partners, fathers, sons, or relatives were top among the perpetrators. Of the 150 women killed in the first six months of this year, 64 were killed by the man they were married to, 17 by their male partner, 10 by their ex-husband, and 4 by their former male partner.

The safest spaces are the most dangerous places

Underlining that the government's declared "Year of the Family" discourse continuously imposes home, family, and caregiving roles on women, the report supports with data that the overwhelming majority of women are killed in their own homes, showing that homes have ceased to be safe havens for women. According to the data, 92 out of the 150 women killed in the first 6 months of 2026 were murdered in their homes.

"Pretexts"

Of the 150 women killed in the first six months of 2026, 17 were murdered because they wanted to get a divorce, separate, or end the relationship; in other words, because they wanted to make decisions regarding their own lives. According to the report, in 78% of the femicides, even the pretext for the murder could not be determined. This situation demonstrates that violence against women is systematically made invisible.

Policies of impunity

According to the data in the report, in the first six months of this year, 15 women were murdered by men with prior criminal records. Some of the murdered women had active restraining or protection orders at the time of the crime. Of the 150 women killed in the first six months, 8 (5%) were benefiting from protection or injunction measures under “Law No. 6284 on the Protection of the Family and the Prevention of Violence Against Women” at the time they were killed.

According to the report, 4 of the murdered women had no protection or injunction orders under Law No. 6284 at the time of the murder. Conversely, information regarding the status under Law No. 6284 for 138 women (or 92%) could not be accessed. The report also emphasized that due to the ineffective implementation of Law No. 6284 and negligence by law enforcement agencies, protection orders often remain on paper.

No compromises should be made on Law No. 6284

The statement concluded with the words below, followed by speeches from the families of the murdered women:

"The data for the first six months of 2026 once again shows that femicides and suspicious deaths of women are not isolated incidents; they are preventable, political, and social problems. Women are being killed in their homes, on the streets, and at their workplaces by their husbands, partners, ex-partners, or acquaintances. Stopping femicides is possible. For this to happen, women's applications must be handled seriously, the Istanbul Convention must be implemented, protection orders must be enforced effectively, no compromises should be made on Law No. 6284, individual gun ownership must be brought under control, and every suspicious death of a woman must be seriously investigated. The fact that 12 past deaths recorded as suspicious were revealed to be femicides clearly demonstrates how vital effective investigations are."

Dubček, Dubček... a name that I will never forget. All throughout that summer of 68, I must have heard that name at least twenty times a day. “Dubček will show those dogs...”, “Don’t worry for Dubček, he knows his people are behind him...”, “ By God, Dubček has no fear...”,  Dubček this, Dubček that, etc...I was eleven years old and was working in that Beirut Summer for Mukhtar Kevork.  He was the brother-in-law of my close friend Hratch at Yepremian Varjaran and had a small grocery store. Hratch’s family was my mother’s friends from the old days in Lice, Diyarbekir. That summer, my mother had arranged for me to work at the grocery store. I liked the job, even though I would have preferred to spend a lazy summer at home. The store was very busy, not so much with customers buying but with people coming for documents, complaints, advice and the mukhtar’s signature for their bureaucratic matters. There were also a lot of regular friends of the mukhtar who visited daily.

Every morning two or three friends would come with their Aztag or Ayk newspapers and start discussing the latest in news about Dubček, the Soviets and Czechoslovakia. I did not understand much of what they were saying because I knew nothing about what was happening in that country. But you could see that they were all anti-Soviet and championed Dubček. One of them always pretended to know better. While the others commended Dubček for being a symbol of hope, this friend of the mukhtar always reminded them that the Soviets were powerful, strict and very smart in controlling the empire. They knew their business and who was a little man like Dubček anyways? He was always skeptical and cynical. I did not like him at all. When the final crunch came, and the Soviets invaded the country, everyone except that man, felt the big shock. He alone kept saying, “I told you so! I told you so!!”

My tasks were cleaning, selling and looking after the store whenever the mukhtar went somewhere.  I liked it when I was left alone. I would sit on a low wicker chair with the duster in my hand at the store front and wait for the odd customer. It was not such a busy store. I enjoyed weighing the dry goods and vegetables on the old fashioned scale that was in the store. Since a very young age I had always had a fixation for the weights. Especially the lighter weights like the fifty grams or the twenties and tens. It was the way they were shaped in heavy iron with the gram weights written in Arabic on top. They were beautiful objects that I had always wanted to play with. I never stole money from the till. It never even occurred to me that I could easily steal some of the cash. But I was a young boy and craved sweets...you cannot blame me for it. From time to time when I was alone, I would go to the back of the store, take a chocolate wafer, open the wrapping and gobble it in two quick bites. Then I would crunch the wrapping into a ball and throw it behind the big heavy sacks of beans and rice which were sitting against the back wall. Nobody would ever look there, I believed.  More than fifty years have passed and the mukhtar, I heard, got killed with sniper fire during the last days of the Lebanese civil war. Bless his soul! He had already closed down his store for many years, they told me. Sometimes I wonder what mukhtar Kevork thought when, as he was emptying his store, he discovered tons of wafer wrappings when moving some of those sacks. I did not know better, but I still feel guilty.

The priority fields of work for this round have been identified as environment and climate change, cultural heritage, and tourism. However, if the number or quality of applications in these fields turns out to be insufficient, applications from other fields of work may also be considered.

For the 2026–2027 round, 17 host organizations from Turkey and 12 from Armenia will host professionals from the neighboring country. In addition to the programs proposed by host organizations, applicants who wish to implement their own project ideas in the neighboring country may also apply.

Application requirements

The program is open to anyone who holds Armenian or Turkish citizenship and is legally residing in one of these countries.

Applicants must be over the age of 18, demonstrate that they meet the requirements of the fellowship program for which they are applying, and have a good command of written and spoken English. All application documents must be prepared in English.

Applicants are required to upload a completed Fellowship Proposal Form together with an up-to-date professional curriculum vitae (CV) of no more than two pages via the Online Application Form. In addition, the Hrant Dink Foundation, the Selection Committee, or the relevant Host Organization may request additional documents if necessary.

What does the fellowship cover?

Under the program, fellows will receive a monthly stipend to cover accommodation, local transportation, and living expenses throughout the fellowship period. The fellowship will also cover international round-trip travel between Armenia and Turkey, transportation to the city where the Host Organization is located, visa and residence permit fees, and travel insurance.

Applications open until September 14

Applicants are required to download and complete the Fellowship Proposal Form before starting the online application, and then upload both the completed form and their CV through the Online Application Form.

Applications will be accepted until 5:00 p.m. on September 14, 2026. The Foundation recommends that applicants carefully review the Turkey–Armenia Long-Term Fellowship Program Regulations, which include the eligibility criteria, application requirements, and selection process, before applying.

Those who would like to receive further information about the program or ask questions may contact the project team via fellowship@hrantdink.org.

The Turkey–Armenia Long-Term Fellowship Program previously supported a total of 44 fellows from Armenia and Turkey during its four rounds held between 2014 and 2018 in Istanbul, Yerevan, and Gyumri.

You can learn more on the Hrant Dink Foundation's website.

On Sunday, 2 August, the service at Surp Krikor Lusavoriç Church in Kınalıada was presided over by Armenian Patriarch of Turkey Sahak Mashalyan. The service was conducted by Fr. Avedis Tabaşyan (Tabashyan), cleric of the Hatay churches and spiritual overseer of the Armenian communities in Anatolia, with Senior Priest Harutyun Damadyan also in attendance. Hymns were performed by the Nersesyan Choir under the direction of Artun Tekiroğlu. Patriarch Mashalyan delivered the sermon at the well-attended service, which was also attended by Yusuf Tabaş (Tabash), President of the İskenderun Karasun Manuk Church Foundation, Levon Şadyan (Shadyan), President of the Kınalıada Church Foundation, and members of their respective boards. Reminding the congregation of the importance of giving, Patriarch Mashalyan announced the launch of a donation campaign for the İskenderun Church under the slogan “Let Us Protect It Today, So We Can Be Proud Tomorrow.” He emphasized that the Armenian community in Hatay, especially in İskenderun, needs financial support for the restoration of the church, and that the wider Armenian community has an obligation to assist the Armenians of Hatay. Following the service, participants gathered for a communal meal in the church hall. During the meal, organized with the support of the Vakıflıköy Development and Solidarity Association, Patriarch Mashalyan appealed to both the Armenian community in Istanbul and the diaspora, calling on everyone to contribute to the restoration and revival of the İskenderun Church.

According to figures released by the İskenderun Church Foundation, rental income from its properties totaled 804,000 TL in 2025, while expenses reached 743,000 TL. The foundation has announced a four-stage restoration plan, estimating that repairs to the foundation’s shops will cost 20 million TL, restoration of the church building 45 million TL, and construction of the auxiliary buildings 12 million TL. The foundation also plans to generate additional funds for the church restoration by renting out the repaired shops. Speaking to Agos, Yusuf Tabaş, President of the İskenderun Karasun Manuk Church Foundation, said that 500,000 TL has been donated to the campaign so far, and that several church foundations have also pledged their support.

Ara Khachadourian, editor of Asbarez, recalled in his speech that Hrant Dink and Agos advanced the struggle of Armenians in Turkey and worked to prevent the confiscation of Kamp Armen. Khachadourian thanked the association’s leadership for organizing the event and congratulated Agos on its 30th anniversary.

Krikor Khodenyan, editor of the weekly Masis newspaper, said: “When Hrant Dink and his friends founded the weekly Agos newspaper thirty years ago, they not only created a new publication; they also gave all Armenians a key that kept open the door called Istanbul. Hrant Dink proved that it is possible to live without sowing hatred and to struggle without burning bridges, and those are the values that live on today in the pages of Agos. Agos carries out this mission with honor, without concern for personal danger, and we offer the editorial board and staff the respect they truly deserve.”

Kevork Koshkerian of Nor Or said, “Istanbul was once regarded as the greatest center of our culture. It produced intellectuals and writers. Now that chapter has closed, and Istanbul remains visible to us through the newspapers Marmara, Jamanak, and Agos, which continue that work. I congratulate the dedicated staff of Agos and wish them an uninterrupted journey and new successes,” adding that he regarded Hrant Dink as a hero.

At the event, where Board of Trustees Chairman Parunak Çelikyan also delivered a speech, video messages from Agos Editor-in-Chief Yetvart Danzikyan, Agos Armenian-language pages editor Pakrat Estukyan, and Agos columnist Ohannes Kılıçdağı were shared with participants.

Rakel Dink, the wife of Hrant Dink and President of the Hrant Dink Foundation, also sent a video message, saying that Agos has come a long way and will continue on its path. In their closing remarks, Board of Trustees Chairman Parunak Çelikyan and board member Sarafyan thanked the speakers.

Speaking to Agos after the event, Sarafyan said, “You are not alone; all the newspapers here are extending a hand to you,” and sent his greetings to the entire staff. Sarafyan also added that Markrit Atmaca, a member of the Istanbul Armenian community, had also contributed to organizing the event.

This second meeting of the Armenia–Turkey Joint Working Group on the Restoration of the Historic Ani Bridge was held in Yerevan on 4 August 2026.

During the meeting, the parties emphasized the importance of the Protocol on the Joint Restoration of the Historic Ani Bridge, which had been signed on 4 May 2026, in Yerevan.

The protocol had been signed on 4 May 2026 at the European Political Community Summit in Yerevan by Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan and Turkish Vice President Cevdet Yılmaz.

At the last meeting, the parties agreed to continue their efforts to implement the signed protocol as soon as possible.

At the summit in Yerevan, Turkish Vice President Cevdet Yılmaz made the following remarks after signing the protocols with Pashinyan:

"We believe that symbolic and tangible areas of cooperation, such as the joint restoration of the Ani Bridge, which we have formalized today through a memorandum of understanding, will also contribute to a lasting environment of peace and trust. On the basis of regional peace, dialogue, and stability, we will continue with determination our approach to advancing normalization in the South Caucasus, increasing economic cooperation, and strengthening contacts between our peoples. I hope today's meeting will bring positive outcomes, and I thank Mr. Pashinyan for his gracious hospitality."

According to a report published by the United Nations (UN) Human Rights Council in 2016, ISIS committed the crime of genocide against the Yezidis, enslaving women and children and attempting to destroy the community. Twelve years have passed since the massacre, yet the fate of thousands of abducted people remains unknown, and the perpetrators have still not been brought to justice.

Call for a parliamentary inquiry

Ceylan Akça Cupolo, Diyarbakır MP for the Peoples' Equality and Democracy Party (DEM Party), called for the formation of a parliamentary inquiry commission in the Turkish Grand National Assembly (TBMM) to investigate not only the humanitarian crisis that emerged after the Sinjar massacre but also the violations and allegations of human trafficking affecting Yezidis living in Turkey.

The motion stated that thousands of Yezidis lost their lives during the attacks on Sinjar, while more than 5,000 women and children between the ages of 6 and 70 were abducted. It noted that those abducted were sold in markets established in Mosul, Raqqa, and Tal Afar, and were subjected to forced religious conversion and sexual slavery.

Calls for justice echoed around the world

The European Syriac Union (ESU) and the Bethnahrin National Union Party (HBA) called for the missing to be found, confiscated property to be returned, and for the autonomous governance rights of the Yezidis in Sinjar and the Syriacs in the Nineveh Plain to be placed under international guarantees.

In its statement, the ESU said: "August 2014 marked a profound rupture in the history of Mesopotamia's ancient peoples. On August 3, Yezidi people in Sinjar were subjected to a devastating genocide following ISIS attacks. On August 6, the Syriac (Assyrian-Aramean-Chaldean) people of the Nineveh Plain were targeted, forcing hundreds of thousands to abandon their homes."

In its statement, the HBA said: "On the occasion of the 12th anniversary of the genocide suffered by the Yezidi people and our Syriac people at the hands of the terrorist organization ISIS, the Bethnahrin National Union Party commemorates with profound sorrow and respect the souls of thousands of innocent victims brutally massacred, the women and girls sold as slaves and enslaved, the children robbed of their childhoods, and the families displaced in one of the most horrific crimes witnessed by the modern era."

Meanwhile, a ceremony marking the 12th anniversary of the Yezidi Genocide was held with the participation of Kurdistan Regional Government (KRG) Prime Minister Masrour Barzani. In his speech, Barzani stated that efforts to locate the Yezidis who remain missing are ongoing and reiterated his call for the implementation of the Sinjar Agreement and the establishment of a special court to prosecute ISIS members.

Rights platform established in Diyarbakır

In 2015, the Platform for the Struggle for Women Held Captive was established in Diyarbakır to work for the rescue of abducted and forcibly detained Yezidi women and children and to defend their rights.

Platform member and former Peoples' Democratic Party (HDP) MP Feleknas Uca spoke to MA about the anniversary of the attacks and the platform's work. While drawing attention to the silence of the international community, Uca emphasized the uncertain fate of the 2,700 women still held by ISIS. Stating that the white firman (silent genocide) against the Yezidi community continues in Europe, Feleknas Uca said:

"The white firman continues"

"The grave dangers and fears facing the Yezidi community continue. Before the eyes of the world, the 'white firman' against our Yezidi community continues. They survived one firman, but other firmans still stand before them. They escaped one firman, but through this one, even more has happened—and continues to happen—to them in the diaspora. Today, the fate of 2,700 women remains unknown; they are still in ISIS captivity. Dozens of mass graves have yet to be fully excavated. We are talking about what is officially recorded and known, but there are also countless unknown cases—people whose fate remains uncertain, whose entire families were massacred, leaving no surviving relatives behind.

Mass killings were carried out in every village where Yezidis lived. Women and girls were separated there. The men were gathered together and buried alive in mass graves. Yezidi women were burned alive in cages because they refused to renounce their faith. They were burned alive because they refused religious conversion, their executions were filmed, and those videos were circulated. That is why we say this firman happened before the eyes of the world. The horrific acts committed by ISIS gangs against Yezidi women were broadcast on television channels. What happened to them defies description. It cannot be expressed in words. It is impossible to describe this wound, this pain, because it remains alive before our eyes. Their cries still echo in our ears, and what they endure remains before our eyes."

In my case, that loneliness stayed with me for the thirty seven years I spent in Toronto. Like one big wound that would get better but would not heal completely. I do not know where that feeling of an incurable loneliness and a sense of not-belonging came from. Maybe I was born melancholic and sad. That first Summer and Autumn were harder than I had imagined.  

After leaving the language school, I had to wait a month for high school to start. It was in a way a very boring Summer, especially daytime. My brothers used to work all day and only came back around dinner time. My father on  the other hand, was going to a daytime language school. I had no friends and the whole day was spent with my younger sister and mother. I would go out to the open Mall in our neighborhood and just hang around, sometimes drinking some pop or eating a chocolate. But I was a smoker at that age. No one knew. So I would buy cigarettes and smoke a few and before going home, I would throw away the pack. Cigarettes were so cheap in those years that for a while I bought a new pack everyday…I had enough daily allowance that my mother gave me. A while later it occurred to me that what I was doing was stupid. Why throw away the packs simply out of fear that my parents would find out? So I began hiding the cigarette packs in a hidden corner inside the light panel of the elevator in our building. I would pick them up from there the next day.

The store where I bought pop and chocolate was run by a short man who never smiled. He spoke English with a heavy Accent. Many times when I used to go to buy something, I would see a young boy my age placing milk cartons and big plastic containers in the open fridge. Other times he would arrange merchandise on the shelves. I guess he was his son or helper. But what surprised me one day as I entered the store, was that the man was speaking Turkish with the boy. He sounded angry and all I remember was that the boy ended their conversation by saying “Tamam, Tamam”.

Manushag, shushig, karlopig, they were all beautiful girls but friends. Talking and sharing  was natural. The girls in Toronto were like queens to me. It was as if I had to have something smart to say to approach them or talk to them. Admire and cherish from far.

The boys on the other hand, no touching, no physical contact...they were so defensive and you felt you had poor manners.

Going to the plaza, smoking in secret

This article is neither about the Taurus Mountains nor about the well-known automobile model produced in Turkey. Today I want to tell a story about us—or rather, about this land.

Toros (Թորոս) is a very common male name among Armenians in Turkey. Contrary to popular belief, the name has no connection with the Taurus Mountains.

According to linguist and etymologist Sevan Nişanyan, the Armenian name Toros does not derive from the mythological or geographical Taurus, but from the Greek name Theodoros. Formed from the words theos (God) and doron (gift), the name means “God’s gift.” Over time, it was adapted into Armenian as Toros.

The well-known legend of Saint Theodoros among Armenians in Turkey is also associated with this name. It is based on the story of the son of a local lord in the Tercan region who converted to Christianity and was killed by his own father.

To explain it more simply, it is similar to how the Arabic name Muhammad became Mehmet in Turkish.

From Sivas to Burunkışla, from Tavlıyan to Alcan

Now let me tell you the story of our Toroses...

My great-grandfather, Toros Tavlıyan, one of those who migrated from Kangal in Sivas to Yozgat and founded the village of Çakmak, was murdered in 1915. Toros’ son, Garabet Tavlıyan, born in 1889, was protected by conscientious people and survived together with his sister Filor. He married Shahinar Torosoğlu, who had also survived, and took refuge in the village of Burunkışla.

They had children and, without exception, gave them the names of the parents, siblings, and relatives they had lost. In the meantime, with the Surname Law [1934], the family surname was changed from Tavlıyan to Alcan.

My uncle Toros (Tavlıyan) Alcan was born in Burunkışla in 1937. My grandfather Garabet gave him his own father's name.

In 1957, Toros died at a young age after gangrene developed following a fracture in his left foot. My father, Nazar, whose name had also belonged to Grandfather Garabet’s brother, was serving his military duty in Iğdır at the time and was unable to witness his brother’s burial. The event left deep wounds in his heart and soul.

The year was 1961, Istanbul

In 1961, Nazar (Tavlıyan) Alcan married Vartuhi (Güler) Panos in Istanbul. My mother Vartuhi’s father, Hacı Hacer, had been an orphan who fled from Saray Village in Yozgat to Magaroğlu Village. Like the other members of our family, he had tried to rebuild his life after immense losses and forced displacement.

Their first child was a boy, and my father gave him his brother’s name.

However, my eldest brother, Toros Alcan (Tavlıyan), the first child of our nuclear family, died of pneumonia when he was only six months old.

Later, my older sister was named Aghavni, and the brother born after her was given my grandfather’s name, Garabet.

As the youngest child of my family, I was born in August 1966 with a shortened left leg.

By the time I was born, our family had moved from the center of Samatya to Altımermer. Our new home was a modest house with a small garden, built on the site of a burned-down wooden house that had leaned against the wall of Surp Hagop Armenian Church.

When my father wanted to continue the family tradition...

When my father wanted to continue the family tradition by naming me Toros as well, my mother firmly objected. She said that no one in our family who had carried the name Toros had survived. My grandfather’s father had been murdered, my uncle Toros had died young, and my eldest brother Toros had died at only six months of age.

My mother also reminded my father of something he had said years earlier. When my uncle’s left foot had broken and become gangrenous, my father had been in the army. When he returned and learned of his brother’s death, he lamented for days:

“I wish you had amputated his leg and left him disabled as long as he had not died...”

Recalling those words, my mother said:

“Let’s not name another child Toros. Your grandfather died, your brother died, our first son died. Let this child live.”

Moreover, I was born with a shortened left leg. My mother took that as a sign. She wanted to name me after the saint of the church against whose wall our house stood: Hagop.

My grandmother supported the idea as well.

“They can’t do heavy work with a disabled leg. He’ll become an ophthalmologist; eye doctors work sitting down,” she used to say.

How my name changed at the civil registry

At the time, one of my father’s childhood friends had become a doctor despite having only one arm. They took inspiration from the famous Cerrahpaşa dermatology professor, Prof. Dr. Agop Gotoghyan, whose name was recently given to a preparatory school, and believed that the name Hagop would bring good fortune. (The Armenian name Hagop—Յակոբ—is generally written as Agop in Turkish.)

Eventually, the family decided to name me Hagop. But fate had another plan. When my father went alone to register my birth, he set aside my mother’s and family’s decision and registered me simply as “Toros.”

For many years, I did not even know that my name was officially Toros. When I started kindergarten at the Sahakyan Nunyan School in Samatya, I learned that Toros was my legal name. Until then everyone had called me Hagop, so whenever someone called out “Toros,” I would not even turn around. It took me quite a while to get used to the name.

Even today, my mother almost never calls me Toros. Although she may rarely use it in formal situations, I have always been Hagop for her. Most of my childhood friends, as well as relatives I met again many years later, still call me Hagop.

Perhaps my identity card says Toros, but in my family’s memory, in my mother’s heart, and on the lips of those who knew my childhood, I have always remained Hagop.

Whether I am worthy of the name Hagop is hard to say. But carrying both fate and sorrow of Toroses in every cell of my body, I came to love both of my names.

As if I had paid a portion of my left leg as tribute to the relentless misfortune that pursued our family, I have lived under the name Toros until today.

In April 2026, it was as though “the fate of the Toroses” wanted to play one final trick on us. My already shortened left leg broke.

But I did not die.

In fact, during the days when my leg was broken, events unfolded in a way that would change the course of my life. I was filled with hope. I had even forgotten about my broken leg.

Perhaps fate had tested my left leg once again, but this time it had failed to defeat me.

Just as I had reached the end of a full nine weeks of treatment and was preparing to breathe a sigh of relief, that merciless fate appeared once more.

Narod...

Just when everything seemed to be getting better, on June 25, devastating news shattered our family.

In Canada, we lost our beloved nephew Narod, in the very springtime of her life.

In an instant, all our hopes, all our joys, and all our plans lost their meaning.

Unlike our family tradition, Narod had been given a different kind of name. Yet it seemed that it was not names, but life itself, that carried a destiny we could never fully explain.

The name Toros, derived from Theodoros, meaning “God’s gift,” became associated with loss in our family across generations.

My great-grandfather Toros was murdered.

My uncle Toros died young.

My brother Toros died as a baby.

I was born with a shortened left leg and, years later, broke that same leg.

And Narod left us in the best time of her life.

For years, my mother never stopped calling me Hagop.

As a child, I never fully understood why.

Today, I understand much better.

Because Toros represented the burden carried in our family’s memory, while Hagop represented my mother’s silent prayer to protect me.

Perhaps my identity card said Toros.

But in my mother’s heart, I always remained Hagop.

Now, when I look back, I realize that throughout my life I have actually carried two names together.

One carried the sorrow of our past; the other carried hope for the future.

And I have carried them both with honor.