One hundred and seven years and one day…
We Are All
There are those who still do not understand that Western Armenia Republic is reality according to international law, in other words, it is the Republic of Eastern Armenia, that of Yerevan, rose when it became a separate and independent country in 1991.
Therefore, the Republic of Western Armenia is not an unrealized dream, an occurrence of a few thousand hopeless idealistic brothers who wander after the impossible.
That dream is feasible because Western Armenian Republic is a reality suspended in time; it is, Our “Mother Haiastan”, to our Diaspora and other sons and brothers like a Tree of Lost Birds; it possesses indelible rights, treaties and covenants that were orphaned, watching the leaves fall from the almanac because they had no one to take care of them.
The Eastern Armenia we all know as “just a parcel of the Real Armenian Republic” broke away and freed herself from the former Soviet Union and she herself, without looking at her other brothers and sisters, declared herself master of the barnyard. She claimed the honor of consecrating herself as the undisputed and legal representative of the whole Armenia; the standard-bearer. She sang her anthem and her people proclaimed her Queen of the Festival.
Today, we genocide survivors in exile are millions who point to our Western Motherland. our millennia-old Haiastan, which gained international recognition as a state in 1920.
Just by looking at our map, the real Armenia encompasses all the provinces usurped by the Turkish state as well as Azerbaijan.
Today, the national heroes of the Eastern Armenia Republic are not those who fight for it on the fronts and lay down their lives for it, they are those, the hallowed ones, who fatten its herd by bringing in foreign currency.
I apologize that I am included in the subject. Today I am a proud and honored citizen of the Western Armenia Republic. I have in my documentation, in addition to my personal data, where my parents come from. Although it does not represent my family tree, it means a lot to me, as much as it does to those born in Yerevan, a Passport of the Eastern Armenia Republic. Now I know who I am, I am no longer a feather of a bird of paradise flying adrift.
I remember that once an Eastern Armenian Ambassador had offered me an Armenian passport. I thanked him, but refused to accept it, not because I was unworthy of it, but because it would not meet my expectations. It would not show my origins and my relatives.
Let it be clear, Millenarian Armenia is the Mother Haiastan of all of us, those in the diaspora, those in Turkey as well as those in Yerevan, Siunik, Artsakh and Najichivan. Ours is not the tail of a kite at the mercy of the wind; a dream hanging in the air. Western Armenia Republic should become our national policy. The more numerous its citizens are, the faster we will reach our goal.
Our surviving brothers and sisters and their descendants, those born in Yerevan as well as in Turkey, must know that Haiastan is one, separated by the vicissitudes of fate, and that is where we all fit.
The sooner we understand, the sooner we will have weapons in hand to fight for the justice that was taken from us.
A house that was abandoned by circumstances of life does not cease to belong to its owners, even if it is occupied by intruders.
Raymond Rupén Berberian
Western Armenia Needs You