– Why do people go to war as volunteers? What drives them? Pathetic patriotism or enthusiasm?
– I think it’s neither patriotism, nor enthusiasm that makes them take this step. I don’t know, maybe there is something inside that drives them. You think to yourself, “What am I doing here when there is a war? I should be there now.” Probably, you are doing it for yourself. In reality, this is a selfish act. You leave your family and your loved ones behind to feel satisfied with yourself because you are going to war. You are leaving your problems on the shoulders of your family.
– Did you have a family when you went to the front?
– Yes, my eldest son was already born. I was 29 or 30 years old. In 1990-1991, I went to Artsakh as a reporter. I was making reports for Armenian Public Television’s Haylur (Armenian News) program. I used to work with cameramen Tigran Gevorgyan and Tachat Yesayan. Then I told my family I wasn’t planning to return, I was staying there. So I joined Monte’s unit.
– So you decided to stay not only as a reporter, but as a volunteer as well?
– Before the fighting in winter 1994, I was a reporter in Artsakh. During the hostilities I mainly stayed in Martouni and Martakert. I was already a soldier at that time. I’ve never spoken about that and I don’t want to talk about it now.
– Many have never seen the battlefield even from afar, but they brag about fighting, they tell stunning stories. Why do you avoid telling about your participation?
– I’ve never actually written about the war. I’ve made some notes about the hostilities, some incidents and people, but I haven’t had the time to sort those notes out.
– In fact, you have piled up not only reports, but some written documentary materials. You have made war films; you have not only recorded the history on tape, but also have written about them.
– What does the footage contain? Very little stuff. Perhaps we should not have filmed even that. I have a different way of thinking, maybe because of the fact that I’m a journalist. War cannot be told about through books and texts. In reality, it’s different: first battle, first encounter with the enemy, the first night spent on the battlefield. I don’t see heroism in the war, but rather its tragic side. The very stories that appear on the press about war heroes have tragedy at the baseline. The boy becomes a hero and destroys his family, but they don’t write about the real tragedy or they do it in a more pathetic way. These texts cannot contain bad characters. But everything happens in the wartime – betrayal, escape. The reality is more painful than it is presented. They never write stories about the errors of commanders that lead to the deaths of many people. But there were such cases too.
– When you do decide to write down everything one day, will you write about this too?
– I’ve racked up materials, so I’ll write them down one day.
-Are there any curtains that you need and will look out of?
– My only curtain is time. If I find time, I’ll start writing.
– You had joined Monte’s detachment. How come you joined it and what kind of a person was Monte?
– Monte’s wife was a friend of mine, and that is how I joined his unit. And although initially there were differences between him the locals and different groups, they accepted him eventually as a commander and obeyed him. When I joined Monte’s detachment, he had already become a symbol. He was honest, and everybody wanted to be as honest as him. We had a camera and did some filming. I’ve had several interviews with Monte. We used to send the footage to different places, and we were sending these materials abroad in particular, so that they could get an idea of what was happening in Artsakh. They used to call me “Journalist” in that unit.
– You carried a weapon, but they still acknowledged you as a reporter?
– No, in Monte’s unit I was one of them and the profession had nothing to do here. Simply, everyone had a nickname there. We called each other by nicknames, so they called me “Journalist”. But I made use of my profession; I asked Monte questions about ASALA and many other things and that made him angry.
– And was the footage fully disclosed?
– Partially yes, partially – no. They still remain in boxes. A part of them is stored at the Defence Ministry. In 1993-1995, I worked at the documentary film studio of the Ministry’s news department. We were making documentaries with Nikolay Davtyan right on the frontline. For a short period of time, about four months, we made analytical programs with Samvel Gevorgyan and they were aired every Sunday. We came back from Karabakh with latest updates every week. The TV program was called Day Seven, if you remember.
– I do remember: there wasn’t today’s media diversity; there were only one or two channels that transferred the news from Artsakh to Armenia and the society was actually waiting for your programs every Sunday. How would you describe yourself? As a war documentary filmmaker or a chronicler?
– As an eyewitness.
– And that is all?
– Yes.
– Now anybody and everybody tells about the war even without having seen the battlefield from afar.
– This is a normal thing. People want to become heroes.
– Is there anyone who you’ve known since the war in Artsakh, being well-aware of their actions on the frontline and their self-representation?
– Of course, there are such people. There are falsified stories that have turned many people into heroes. Pathetic rhetoric has generated many heroes. There were people who went to the front just to take photos.
– They can look into my eyes, tell their lies and say they have taken part in fighting and that they are heroes. Can they do the same with you?
– No, they cannot.
– Don’t you want to put people where they belong?
– I’ve already done that.
– Has the war changed you?
– Yes, certainly. Every single day brings changes, let aside war. You walk through the bodies of the dead soldiers, how can that not change you? War kicks you on the head like a horse stamps and you can never get it out of your mind. It’s very hard to get back to normal life after the war. You start looking at things differently. Nobody seems to understand you. In fact, no one really does. Many have found themselves in such a situation. There are still war veterans in jails. No one has cared for their psychological adjustment. Others still smell gunpowder everywhere; that smell is haunting them, they are still eager to feel it. They have failed to adjust themselves to ordinary life after coming back from war and so they are still misunderstood. This is the reason why there is a gap between them and the society, as well as the government. In reality, understanding them might be challenging. Some of them say, why should I work? I’ve fought the war! In Armenia, they don’t provide psychological assistance to people with such problems, yet these boys needed to get though certain phases of adaptation.
– Was life a challenge for you too after the war?
– It wasn’t easy, as you carry the burden of all those problems too and it gets worse year by year. The concerns of those guys are your concerns too. Many of them have health problems but they don’t have the money to get necessary treatment… There are plenty of such issues.
– Those who remain underrated belong to another dire consequence of war.
– There are people who do not need such acknowledgement. They don’t want to be spoken or read about. There are those who don’t have a single photograph from the wartime. The state simply has to appreciate such people.
– Have you ever experienced the sense of guilt?
– A good many times! In April, when our boys were killed I blamed myself. I think everyone has had that sense of guilt.
– You were in Artsakh in April too. We’ve seen and read and heard about you.
– Yes. I was there as a reporter, coordinating the work of Hetq news portal.
– Does a reporter remain solely a reporter in the war? Does he actually manage to maintain professional ethics?
– At war, all the rules and principles of journalism are broken. There are numerous books and guidelines on war reporting but they are about the war of others. There are no guidelines for reporting on your own war. It’s very easy to travel to Syria to provide war reporting, but it’s not your war. You break all the rules and even ethical standards when reporting on your own war, since you are one of the warring parties.
– Hasn’t it ever crossed your mind that all the generations of Armenians have to witness war by some unwritten law? As if it were a curse: our grandfathers’ grandfathers have seen the First World War and the Genocide; our grandfathers witnessed the Great Patriotic War and our fathers – the 1990’s liberation war, which has lasted to the present day, and new generation saw it too and had to shed blood.
– War is war: no one likes it. No one wants next generation to go through war, but our children had to see it too. My son, an artilleryman, was on the frontline; there were young boys under his command. I said, “Watch out and be careful. The responsibility for these boys lays upon you.” I need to write down my notes about the April war too. Sometimes I am afraid to touch on this topic, but sometimes I think to myself, why would I write?
– Have you ever heard anyone referring to you as a doughty warrior?
-…I get sick of that expression.
***There is no video material accompanying the interview with Edik Baghdasaryan. The journalist who has kept his finger on the pulse of the developments in Artsakh in the worst years of war, now keeps the war chronicles created at the risk of his own life in his memories and in faded paper folds. Video materials are stored in boxes. Yet, neither the papers, nor the footage have any pretension to come out of the archive.