THE TIMES: A PROMISE OF PEACE IN THE SHADOW OF ARARAT

ArmInfo
2009-04-16 17:27:00

At last the Turkey-Armenia border may finally be opened. But the move
will stir up deep and long-held regional feelings, The Times writes.

‘Years ago Andrei Gromyko, the veteran Soviet Foreign Minister, was
once buttonholed by his irate Turkish counterpart. "Why do you show
Mount Ararat, which lies in Turkey, on the flag of Soviet Armenia? Do
you lay claim to our territory?" "No," replied Gromyko. "Why do you
have a crescent on your flag?

Do you lay claim to the Moon?"

Armenia is now free of Soviet control. But the Turkish-Armenian
border, sealed during the Cold War years when it marked the tense
boundary between Nato and the Soviet Union, remains closed. And though
Armenians gaze across at Ararat’s elusive peak, they still cannot
cross over into the lost provinces of their historic homeland that
lie in northeast Turkey.

Something, however, may at last be moving. Ali Babacan, Turkey’s
Foreign Minister, will visit Yerevan today for a meeting of the Black
Sea Economic Cooperation Council, an 11-nation regional grouping set
up in 1992. But the real issue for him and for his Armenian hosts is
the border. Can both countries set aside their historic animosities
and suspicions and dismantle the last Cold War barbed-wire barricades?

Barack Obama hopes so. Indeed, in Istanbul last week he challenged
his Turkish hosts to "move forward" and establish, for the first
time, diplomatic ties with their Armenian neighbours. Much more than
just the border is at stake. A reconciliation between Turkey and
Armenia would help to ease more than 90 years of bitterness dating
back to the Ottoman massacres of Armenians between 1915 and 1917,
which still cast a long shadow over the politics of the Caucasus
and the West’s attitudes to Turkey. An open border would not only
bring huge economic benefits to both sides: it could also help to
thaw one of the last "frozen conflicts" in Europe’s backyard, the
military stand-off between Armenia and Azerbaijan over control of
the ethnically Armenian enclave of Nagorno-Karabakh.

It could also help Russia to regain its balance within the turbulent
Caucasus and Turkey to extend its reach to its cultural Central
Asian hinterland. And it could remove some of the taboos from today’s
Turkish politics, where any mention of the Ottoman killings of up to
1.5 million Armenians produces a venomous nationalist reaction.

The issues are all interlinked, and, bedevilled by emotion, are
exceptionally difficult to resolve. At the heart of the stalemate
lie the fears and political isolation of Armenia, a tiny country
of less than three million people, that has historically been at
the mercy of its powerful neighbours. Armenia, the first nation to
adopt Christianity, lies on the front line of Islam, and has always
looked to Russia for protection from Turkey and its Muslim Azeri
neighbours. It is a role that Moscow has embraced eagerly, and one
that has underpinned Russia’s military confrontation with Turkey,
which for centuries has shaped the history of both countries.

But the forcible incorporation of Armenia into the Soviet Union in 1922
changed the relationship. There is lingering resentment in Yerevan of
Moscow, especially after the postSoviet economic collapse when Russia
put pressure on Armenia by cutting fuel supplies. The impoverished
nation shivered through several winters. Armenia hoped to open up to
the south. But although the border with Turkey was briefly opened,
it was closed swiftly in 1993 after Armenia invaded Azerbaijan to
establish a corridor to the besieged Nagorno-Karabakh, and Turkey
sided with Muslim Azeris.

Turkish support is vital to Azeri hopes of regaining control of
its enclave.

Azerbaijan has therefore reacted ferociously to hints of a
Turkish-Armenian rapprochement. It has suggested that it would use
its oil muscle and interrupt supplies through the vital pipeline from
Baku to southern Turkey unless Armenia made concessions.

The threat seems to have rattled Ankara. Recep Tayyip Erdogan,
Turkey’s Prime Minister, poured cold water yesterday on suggestions
from Armenia that the border could be opened in time for the World
Cup qualifying tie in October. President Sarksyan said he hoped he
would be able to cross the border into Turkey to watch the football
game. Not until Nagorno-Karabakh is settled, Mr Erdogan retorted.

The Islamist Prime Minister cannot be seen to abandon his Muslim
neighbour.

But Turkey has also long harboured hopes that it could spread its
influence far beyond Azerbaijan into former Soviet Central Asia, which
is Turkic-speaking and desperately in need of some Western knowhow
and investment. These hopes came to little in the early 90s. Now they
are being revived. Ankara can ill afford to upset the Azeris.

Reconciliation with Armenia, however, and an end to the Caucasus
stalemate could benefit everyone. It would confirm the status of Turkey
as the superpower within the Black Sea council. Turkey may look to the
EU as a supplicant, but to its neighbours it looks an economic giant.

Armenia, blocked to the north by the instability in Georgia and
fearful of being too dependent on Russia, would have an alternative
utlet to the world through Turkey. And economic cooperation could
soothe historic hatreds.

For Russia, there would also be gains. Paradoxically, the Russians
have never had better relations with Turkey than now, largely because
of the huge volume of trade, the massive flow of Russian tourists
and the reduced threat from a NATO member on Russia’s borders. But
these smooth relations are fragile.

Historic competition for influence and for the region’s energy
resources could flare up again. Russian actions in Georgia raised
hackles in Turkey.

Moscow needs a settlement to ensure that there is no new "South
Ossetia" in the offing – and that the Nagorno- Karabakh dispute does
not turn violent again, leaving Moscow and Ankara on opposite sides.

Mount Ararat is a peak of startling beauty, especially in the
morning sun.

The reputed resting place of the Ark and revered by so many in the
region, it has become a symbol of division. An open border would
allow all to approach its heights,’ The Times writes.