Speech by Arsinée Khandjian at Bay Area ANC "Hai Tad Evening"
Saturday, March 6, 2004

When I was first invited for an opportunity to speak tonight, I wasn't sure what it was that the organizers were hoping to hear me say.  The response came back to me very quickly in the form of a self-evident suggestion which was to address the topic of "the role of the artist in Hay Tad (the Armenian cause)".  When I say self-evident, I mean, from the perspective of the organization’s mandate and history which is to keep the subject of and the work towards the recognition of the Armenian Genocide alive and continuous. 
 
As we know, both politics and the arts have been driving forces for social change throughout history.  Cultures that have rejected the influences and challenges presented by artists have remained poorer and weaker as a society and a civilization. 
 
When artistic activities have been embraced by societies, the artists have often found themselves inscribed in the history of that culture.  Not only in its art history, but also in the larger collective history.  Over time, the process of the creative endeavor as well as its outcome have come to be identified with the personal beliefs and views of the artist himself.  Undoubtedly, his personal experiences and morals influence his inspiration; but if the resulting expression runs counter to the dominant, accepted ideology of a particular society, - sadly, we’ve seen time after time, - the most common reaction is to label the work as "propaganda".
 
Over the years, as Atom Egoyan and I discussed the question of the Armenian Genocide, the history’s effects on us as survivors, and the burden on the Diaspora to face the denial of this inconceivable pain, one question kept coming back unfailingly.  It was a question in two parts: "Why and how to remember?"
 
As long as we were not directly exploring this very history through our work, the challenge for us remained in understanding it on a personal level – in understanding its effects on our identity.  However, when we decided to address these issues in a film work that would explore our Armenian identity and expose the effects of the Genocide on it, not only did the two-part question resurface – more than that – what became clear was that there was an inherent danger in the simple fact of raising the topic.  In the face of an unsettled historical event, it was difficult to just follow the natural law of the creative process which normally allows artists to speak from what they know and what they believe in, what inspires their work and what substantiates their imagination.  The infamous question of "why to remember" started putting us in a defensive position.  Explaining and contextualizing our work were not unusual to us.  Artists’ views and observations are often challenged for their meaning, their accuracy, and their pertinence in light of established conventional values.  But the position we found ourselves in this time was atypical because as our responses ran the risk of being perceived as political stances.  For some, the initiative of the film was further evidence of our engagement in a political act.  They felt that not only had we decided to remember the Genocide, but we were also suggesting "how to remember" it - which brings me to the heart of the subject. 
 
"Ararat" was designed to be first and foremost a work of art inspired by humanistic and creative concerns previously present in the filmmaker's body of work.  Atom Egoyan says in his introduction to the screenplay: "The problem with any film that deals with the "Armenian issue" is that there are so many issues to deal with...  From the moment I began to write this script, I was drawn to the idea of what it means to tell a story of horror.  In this case, the horror isn't only about the historical events that took place in Turkey over eighty-five years ago, but also the enduring horror of living with something so cataclystic that has been systematically denied.  Without getting into the mechanics of that denial (there are a number of books and articles on that issue), it is important to note that the role of the director in my film-within-the-film is monumental.  Edward Saroyan, and his screenwriter, Rouben, are faced with an awesome task.  They will be the first filmmakers to present these images to a wide public.  If their film seems raw and blunt in its depictions, it's because they are the first people to cinematically present these "unspeakable horrors." (later he adds) most of the conflicts that occur in the contemporary story are related to the unresolved nature of not only the Genocide, but also the difficulties and compromises faced by the representation of this atrocity.  How does an artist speak the unspeakable? What does it mean to listen? What happens when it is denied? (and finally) thus the screenplay had to tell the story of what happened, why it happened, why it’s denied, why it continues to happen, and what happens when you continue to deny.  Ararat is a story about the transmission of trauma.  It is cross-cultural and inter-generational.  The grammar of the screenplay uses every possible tense available, from the past, present, and future, to the subjective and the conditional."
 
These incessant questions, - either in preparation for the production, or as voiced by the character of Saroyan in the film, and again raised by the filmmaker after the completion of Ararat, - are a clear indication that at no point was there a desire to prove that the history was true.  Instead, the only concern was to find a way to give voice to a true history, to retrieve it from oblivion and make the viewers ask themselves why they have never heard of it.  These were the obligations felt by the filmmaker.
 
Nevertheless, in the last two and a half years, we were to be confronted by many politically charged situations and accusations.  There is no doubt that in the case of Ararat, the artifact itself, the film as an object, has become in many cases a political instrument.  As you may well know, opinions are expressed regularly from various Turkish sources that adamantly reject what the film represents, despite the fact that only a few of the respective parties have actually even seen it.  And, perhaps, there are Armenians who may have not fully appreciated the thematic treatment of the movie and yet they will unconditionally support it because it is "about the Armenian Genocide".  These reactions and developments may be considered inevitable given the political contrapositions on the subject.  They do, however, suggest that as artists we, nonetheless, have to be prepared to enter into political discourse and sometimes directly so. 
 
I will take a moment to describe one recent incident that not only caught Atom and me by surprise but once again made us wonder to what extent the artist is to be involved in the realm of political action even if that is not his objective or choice. 
 
It was end of December last year, just before the holidays, when we heard that Erkan Mumcu, the Turkish minister of culture and tourism, had announced that "Ararat" will finally be shown in Turkey.  This came as a big surprise mixed with excitement and suspicion.  After all, we had already heard when the film was screened publicly that festival organizers would invite it to the Istanbul film fest.  We had heard encouraging words from Turkish journalists and critics that the film should be shown to Turkish audiences.  We were even approached by the head of a distribution company called Belge film, who would take it upon himself to open the movie in Turkey.  But all these expressions of interest and curiosity had amounted to very little.  The individual initiatives were either not sincere enough or strong enough to change a government policy shunning all discussion about anything directly related to the subject of the Armenian Genocide.  The more organized campaigns were to refute the validity of the film both from a historical and artistic perspective.  Just before the opening of the film in the states, over two thousand e-mails had inundated Disney's and Miramax's head offices, claiming historical distortion and propaganda.  One may imagine, therefore, our amazement at this latest news where the minister was announcing, through one of the most important press agencies in the world, associated press, that "Ararat" was to be screened to Turkish audiences.  This was to show that the country was a serious proponent of democratic ideals and that the release of the film was an example of Turkey's tolerance and openness as a society.  The message appeared to be that Turkish citizens should be entitled to their own opinion after having a chance to see the film.  These statements were commendable but they indicated a drastic shift in the government's position.  Why now, we asked ourselves? After all, most of the initial buzz, impact, concerns and accusations had already had their run and the subject of the controversy around the film was slowly fading away. 
 
Atom, in his magnanimously generous and optimistic outlook was happy about this news.  It was his hope that Turkish society would have a chance to see this work along with previous ones, as part of his ongoing fascination with human tragedy. 
 
I, on the other hand, was much more skeptical.  The news was too good to be true.  The vociferous articles that had been published over the past two years in so many Turkish papers did not give me a sense that this announcement could be anything other than rhetorical.  I decided not to get my hopes too high and naively be seduced by an intangible gesture.  In a strange way, I was even uneasy that "Ararat" would finally be released in Turkey.  I felt a sense of manipulation and opportunism guiding this highly volatile announcement.  As if, someone was walking into my garden, picking up my golden apple, and walking out into the world to show the discovery.  I was determined to follow the turn of events as closely as possible until I heard that the film was actually running in Turkish theatres. 
 
Unfortunately, my instincts were well founded.  It didn't take us long to find out that not only was the decision of the government challenged by the nationalist action party, but also that any individual choosing to attend screenings would suffer the consequences of the decision to shame Turkey by paying dearly with his or her life. 
 
Of course, this time no international media was to report these latest developments.  We found out about it through individuals who read Turkish newspapers and who took it upon themselves to inform us of the way the situation was unfolding. 
 
As one may guess, Turkey needed to persuade the European Union through a grandiose gesture of her ongoing efforts to establish democratic values as an enduring principle of social and political course.  "Ararat" with its international profile was a perfect "golden apple" to show off at this occasion.  This strategy would not, however, survive the precarious democratic structures on which this recently elected government was trying to hold itself up. 
 
My feeling was that something had to be done before this development would go unnoticed and the world would remain with an initial false impression.  "Ararat" was not to see "the light of projector" in Turkey, and this, everyone had the right to know without ambiguity.  This was, yet again, another example of deception, not only for us the filmmakers, but also for every righteous citizen in the international community.  Often our politicians, for political expediency and alliances, fail to keep us from knowing what is true and what is not.  But this sort of knowledge is not a privilege, it’s a public right. 
 
I started to talk about it with friends, with community leaders, with activists.  To my surprise, I was to be given predictable generic responses such as: "Oh well! It’s hardly surprising! But what can be done?" Or "there are so many other issues to deal with when it comes to denial; this is more or less one other small example of it".  Or "Armenian organizations have more important ongoing concerns and this situation is only another "velveloug", rumor, not worth prioritizing it necessarily".  When I called an American/Armenian organization to exchange ideas about a possible way to address the situation, my phone call was not to be returned.  Amazed by this dismissal, I complained to someone in private, at which point I heard something that amazed me even more: "What! Just because you’re a movie star you think the person would have to take your call? Don’t you realize how busy they are handling major Armenian issues?" I didn’t need insult from my own people over injury from Turkish politicians. 

I informed Atom that this case was not to be abandoned.  We needed to publicize the incident in a media-wide splash.  After all, the Turkish government has had the "presence d’esprit" to use the press in the first place.  Why stop them in their own device?
 
That's when the ANC chapter in Toronto was contacted.  I will personally name Aris Babikian because he was the one person, who listened carefully to what I was proposing as an opportunity and as an approach to turn the situation around in our interest.  I am thankful and humbled by his generosity to commit the time and effort to this cause.  He did it single handedly by calling upon every Toronto newspaper editor.  Soon, the journalists were calling in to speak with Atom and find out what sources in Turkey had to be contacted to substantiate the story.  They managed to get hold of the distributor who had rejected the offer of the minister of culture to provide police force in protection for audiences attending the public screenings.  How could one take on, after all, the responsibility of threatened lives? The Turkish ambassador in Ottawa was asked for an opinion.  He responded that this situation was not an example of a failing democracy in Turkey...  Finally, the same minister of culture gave in.  Pressured by demands for answers from Canadian journalists, he claimed that it was all a ploy by the Canadian distributor of "Ararat" who had forced Turkey to purchase the film, in order, to show later that Turkey was not an open, tolerant society. 
 
Yes.  All this was reported in the Canadian press, nationally. 
 
But the major success of this media campaign was marked when the editor of the globe and mail, one of our most influential national papers, gave a most unprecedented editorial write up, firmly establishing an explicit editorial policy by calling the events of 1915 a genocide, and venturing even further.  Under the title, blocking Ararat, read the following passages: "If only stories were as powerful as Ulku Ocaklari, the youth wing of a Turkish nationalist group, seems to think they are! Threats of violence from the group this month caused a film distributor in Turkey to withdraw Atom Egoyan's movie Ararat, about the 1915 genocide of an estimated 1.5 million Armenians, before its debut on Turkey's movie screens.  Ulku Ocaklari must be among the last believers in the power of art to change the world.  (He continues) the movie provides a test of the country's political maturity at a time when Turkey is pressing to join the European Union...  Turkey is failing the test.  (later, he asks) What do the nationalists fear would happen if Turks sat down to watch Mr. Egoyan’s complicated tale, much of which is about the effects of the Genocide on Canadian Armenians today? The stirrings of empathy, the desire for reconciliation? A wish to know more, to seek the truth about their country’s history?...  Despite the efforts of countless writers to bear witness – genocidal campaigns still flourished in Cambodia, Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia.  Even so, the artists and others will continue to come forward, because they must.  (and he concludes) in the end, the Turkish people are the poorer for this violent threat against their freedom to think."(1)
 
Soon, ANC Washington and Los Angeles chapters were contacted and took it upon themselves to alert the American press.  What started up as being one more affront in the ocean of assaults and deceptions regularly obstructing the recognition of the Armenian Genocide, turned into a premise to serve the truth.  This time, both the New York Times and the Los Angeles times reported on the blocking of the film, not with such a unequivocal sense of outrage as their Canadian counterpart, but then again, it is consistent with the differences that mark the Canadian and American ways of contemplating the world!
 
So, what is the role of the artist in Hay Tad?
 
Anatole Baja, a French theorist of the decadence movement, asks the following question regarding the poet’s pursuit : "Isn’t their (the poets) aim to seek the quintessence of things, to extract from them the most intense perfume, in order to produce, in a few instants, a saraband of striking visions giving the sensations of the manner of facts?"(2)
 
If this is the blessing, the power, the talent, and the vocation of the artist and of the poet, then let me answer that question with another question.  What is the role of hay institutions, of hay politicians and lobbyists, of hay culture and hay nation towards the artist? How do we ensure that we acknowledge each other’s presence and we validate, as a worldwide community, the differences among us? How do we bridge the gaps, the lack of communication, and the ignorance that often plague the ever so crucial bond linking a society to the voice of the artists?
 
I firmly believe that the role of the artist is to make art.  But more importantly, I consider it indispensable that societies appreciate closely artistic processes and legitimize the endeavor of their artists; that they come to understand there are several ways to accomplish goals towards a promising future and that, in this respect, the artist is a major asset, influence, and contributor. 
 
Atom Egoyan and I never dreamt of writing a manifesto or a work of propaganda with Ararat.  All we wished for was to explore with rigor and critical honesty the very essence of what we have to carry on as an identity in our lives.  That Armenians and hundreds of thousands of other citizens in the world heard what "Ararat" had to tell is nothing other than a celebration of the power of art to reach the heart and the mind of humanity. 
 
If we played a role in Hay Tad, it was only because we first and foremost believed in the need to tell our story as we know it.  Thank you.

___________

(1) "Blocking Ararat", in The Globe and Mail, Monday, Jan. 26, 2004.
(2) Legitimizing The Artist, Manifesto Writing and European Modernism, 1885-1915, Luca Somigli, University of Toronto Press, Toronto, Buffalo, London, 2003, p. 85.