I lived in Armenia for two years. My life in Armenia revolved around cultural exploration. I was often asked by locals my opinions on dolma, lavash and the beautiful mountains. Less often, I would hear the latest updates on the frozen conflict for the disputed territories of Artsakh, or Nagorno-Karabakh. I studied in an international school in the countryside, in a village called Dilijan. We were far away from Nagorno-Karabakh and relatively distant from the Azerbaijani border, but the whole student body would sigh from fear everytime rumors of a possible escalation of the conflict would roam around. We did not have any Azeri students due to the difficulty in obtaining a visa, which only served as a reminder of the complicated politics in the Caucasus.

In the hope of understanding more about the youth perspective on the conflict, I helped organize a creative arts camp called CaucasusConnect. Throughout the two years I worked there, it was difficult to get Azeri teenagers to join, as our association with Armenia was perceived as suspicious. Nevertheless, I saw Armenians, Georgian, Georgian-Azeris and Turkish youth connect through the arts. My hope was that many of these teenagers would build dialogue and a more nuanced understanding of each other before they reached the age of military service.

It was with utmost worry that I saw the conflict escalate in September 2020, with each side blaming the other for breaking the ceasefire. Thousands of deaths were reported, many of whom were civilians from both sides. Facing an aggressive offensive from Azerbaijan, with direct support from Turkish-made drones and Syrian mercenaries, Armenia surrendered. A ceasefire was signed in early November, and Azerbaijan declared victory.

“It was horrible. I would just wake up everyday and check the list of martyred soldiers and hope I didn’t see the names of my friends in the list,” declared Milena Baghdasarian, an Armenian student from the Class of 2023.

Nagorno-Karabakh is a mountainous autonomous region between Armenia and Azerbaijan. Even though the region is internationally recognized as part of the territory of Azerbaijan, it has historically hosted a majority ethnically and culturally Armenian population. The region has been the center of a restless dispute between both countries since the dissolution of the Russian Empire in 1918, after which both countries immediately claimed the territories. In 1923, however, the Soviet Union reclaimed the entirety of the Caucasus region, and it was the Soviets that drew many of today’s borders, designating Nagorno-Karabakh to Azerbaijan in a semi-autonomous status.

In 1988, Armenians in Nagorno-Karabakh passed a referendum asking to leave Azerbaijan and unite with Armenia, which was refused by Azerbaijan. After the dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1992, a three-year war broke out, resulting in tens of thousands of deaths and the displacement of thousands of Azeris. The ceasefire agreement, with strong involvement from Russia, allowed Armenian military ground control over the autonomous territory and its surrounding areas.

But tensions within this region date far back. In World War One, the Ottoman Empire persecuted millions of Armenians, in an act that has been internationally recognized as a genocide by countries such as the United States, Canada, Russia, Brazil and large parts of the European Union. Because of Turkey’s proximity to Azerbaijan, both ethnically, politically and culturally, it was no surprise for international analysts that Turkey served as the main ally of Azerbaijan in the 2020 conflict.

To me, it is then invaluable to think of the war in Nagorno-Karabakh through the language of imperialism from both Russia and Turkey. It is through the horrors committed by the Ottoman Empire and the restless domination of Soviet Empire that one can reflect on claims of imagined communities in the Caucasus.

In 2020, Azeri drones and military superiority succeeded in claiming the territories of Nagorno-Karabakh, including the reclamation of the city of Shushi, which is incredibly close to the capital, Stepanakert. Since 2008, Azerbaijan has given priority to its expenses in military expenditures, investing six times more than Armenia. Azerbaijan bombed the sacred cathedral of Holy Saviour, an important Armenian church, twice in the same day, in an incident which the President of Azerbaijan Ilham Aliyev claimed was by mistake. In response, Aliyev referred to Armenian attacks on civilians in Ganja.

The ceasefire, brokered by Russia and signed on Nov. 9, ordered withdrawal of Armenian forces from larger portions of the Nagorno-Karabakh territory, including from the city of Shushi. “The surrounding buffer zones are also being handed over to Azerbaijan,” pointed out Baghdasarian, which can be read as an important strategic victory to Azerbaijan.

The majority of the autonomous territory remains in the control of ethnic Armenians, backed up by onground presence of the 2,000 Russian military peacekeepers. Turkish troops will also be present on ground on the recently reclaimed Azeri territories in Nagorno-Karabakh. Additionally, the ceasefire established the construction of a road that connects Turkey to Azerbaijan.

The ceasefire sparked political turmoil in Armenia, with immediate protests demanding the impeachment of Nikol Pahminiyan, the Armenian prime minister. Mobs invaded government buildings, and Armenians seem increasingly confused and disappointed at the actions of their government.

While Azerbaijan claims victory and Russian and Turkey celebrate important strategic gains, Armenians are left to deal with ongoing political turmoil and generalized trauma that seems difficult to overcome. “No one knows what's going to happen,” admitted Baghdasarian. “It’s such a horrible situation.”

“Thousands of [young people] were killed … and even though some have come back, they have severe injuries… psychological issues because they have seen too much,” reflected Baghdasarian.

Baghdasarian and many others have raised the fact that despite the extreme suffering, there is a lack of attention from international media and governing bodies. “Human rights organizations have been quite silent, both during the war, and after the war, they didn't say anything, or even when they were saying something it was in the lines of: we are deeply concerned,” Baghdasarian explained, frustrated. “Power dynamics and political relations contributed to the silence and ignorance.”

Two years ago, that arts camp was filled with hope that the conflict of Nagorno-Karabakh would be mitigated by the extraordinary youth in the Caucasus. This hope has slowly transformed into horror as many of the young people who the camp was built for have now been recruited to fight in the border. What remains for me is a mixed disappointment with the conflict’s invisibility in international media and a faint hope that one day the Caucasus will live in peace.