BEN MAGYAR, BA History, Year 3, 2022-2023.

“Who remembers the extermination of the Armenians?”

Whether actually said or not, the prevalence of this quote used in Atom Egoyan’s ‘Ararat,’ and the fact most people don’t understand it, shows the failure of historians to spread knowledge of the Armenian Genocide to mainstream interest. It remains a hidden history, a name many may have heard of, but do not understand. In an attempt to rectify it, and ensure the genocide is not forgotten the aforementioned Armenian-Canadian director Atom Egoyan, as well as Irish director Terry George have both made films on the subject.

Ararat, film posters from USA, France and Italy for the 2002 release, wikipedia fair use policy (reproduction at low resolution for educative purposes).

Egoyan’s film, ‘Ararat’ (2002), follows Rafi, an Armenian man whose mother is an Art-Historian specialising on Armenian artist Arshile Gorky, and whose father is an Armenian revolutionary, who died in an assassination attempt on a Turkish official. Both Rafi and his mother are brought on to assist with making a film about the genocide, a direct attempt to combat denialism within the film. George’s film, ‘The Promise’ (2016), is a historical epic about the genocide itself, showing the journey of medical student Mikael after he befriends, and is subsequently torn from, fellow Armenian Ana and her American fiancé Chris, by the eruption of violence. These films are indicative of wider trends in the use of films to gain recognition for atrocities, a means of combating denialists, as well as a move to give greater space to portraying the identity and culture of oppressed minorities in popular film.

Genocide Film

The uncovering of hidden histories is a hobby for a lot of people, and no medium is better at spreading these histories than film. Documentaries and historical dramas reign supreme in attempts at introducing lesser-known events to the public, especially with the help of the internet. Take, for example, ‘Trial of the Chicago 7’ (2020) or ‘Hacksaw Ridge’ (2016), which both take seldom-acknowledged aspects of history and demand their importance be recognised by audiences. Part of the issue that faces the representation of the Armenian Genocide that these two films did not encounter is the need to fill in a wider context. These two films are set during the Vietnam War and Second World War respectively, two extremely well known, documented, and filmed events in history. Meanwhile the First World War’s filmographic presence has suffered in the midst of the Second, therefore it only makes sense that the genocide is further underrepresented.

Genocide in film is a genre that is continuously increasing in size as time goes on, and is growing to include films that aren’t just about the Holocaust (which dominates genocide film). In the case of the Holocaust, film has been massively successful, producing numerous critically-acclaimed films such as ‘Schindler’s List’ (1993) and ‘Life Is Beautiful’ (1997), spreading the story of the Holocaust all over the world. Other genocides have succeeded in gaining recognition through less widespread, but equally praised films, such as the Cambodian Genocide with ‘The Killing Fields’ (1984) and the Rwandan Genocide with Terry George’s other genocide film, ‘Hotel Rwanda’ (2004). These films serve multiple functions: remembrance and recognition, promoting public memory through activism and perhaps even pushing forward policy.

Schindler’s List, 1993 poster, and Hotel Rwanda, 2004 poster, wikipedia fair use policy (reproduction at low resolution for educative purposes).

The remembrance aspect tends to take from real life accounts to observe and portray the violence of the atrocities committed and recognise any heroes or allies of resistance. It is seemingly more concerned with documentation, to ensure these harrowing periods of history are never repeated (Baron, ‘Holocaust and Genocide Cinema’, 5). This is where George’s ‘The Promise’ edges out Egoyan’s ‘Ararat’ due to the heavier focus, and superior portrayal of the atrocities committed. The wiping out of Mikael’s village and the murder of his entire family, including his pregnant wife and their unborn child is one of the more severe scenes in the film and cannot help but make you sympathetic towards the Armenians. This sympathy is then converted into anger.

Similarly, the recognition of specific people, who in the face of danger committed heroic acts to aid and save those being persecuted, has becoming a running theme of genocide films. Like Oskar Schindler in ‘Schindler’s List’ both ‘The Promise’ and ‘Ararat’ have figures that match this description. In ‘Ararat’ this is Clarence Ussher, the real life American missionary whose diary, the film and the film within the film uses as evidence to base scenes on. In ‘The Promise’ this role is filled by multiple characters. Most notably this includes Christian Bale’s Christopher Myers, an American journalist who feels compelled to document the atrocities and help smuggle Amrenians out of the country and give them asylum in America. There is also the American Ambassador, who confronts Ottoman-Turkish CUP officials, the French Admiral, who aids with helping refugees escape, the sympathetic son of an Ottoman General, who is executed for aiding the Armenians and their allies multiple times, and, again, the recurrence of the American Missionaries. Apart from documenting and recognising real people, or groups, who aided victims of genocide, these characters aim to show the repercussions of opposing oppression, even against your own government: like Schindler or the son of the General in ‘The Promise.’ This is in an attempt to whip up determination from viewers to stand against modern-day injustices and push for the recognition of previous ones (Baron, ‘Holocaust and Genocide Cinema’, 5). For example, in ‘The Promise,’ Chris Myers starts as a belligerent alcoholic, who finds redemption in helping smuggle Armenians out of the country, as well as reporting on the events. He makes a lifelong friend in Mikael for his eforts, and is held in regard by Yeva for the latter part of her life.

Clarence Ussher, An American Physician in Turkey: A Narrative of Adventures in Peace and War (Boston; New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1917). https://archive.org/details/anamericanphysic00usshuoft

The utility of film over other mediums lies largely in its accessibility. Film is able to reach a wider audience, while its wide cultural prevalence across borders makes it harder to ignore to both Turkish and non-Turkish audiences. The threat posed by this film to denialists is made evident by attempts to overshadow ‘The Promise.’ Not only was the film review bombed before its public release, gaining 55,000 one star reviews on IMDB while having only been shown in three screenings, but it coincided with the release of the Turkish sponsored film ‘The Ottoman General.’ Based on a similar premise, the film also follows a love triangle in the same era, yet portrays the genocide as two-sided, fitting, rather coincidentally, with Turkey’s official stance.

Genocide Denial

To this day, the Turkish government has failed to recognise the Armenian Genocide as having happened (Heckner, ‘Screening Armenian Genocide’, 133). It is not alone in its attempts to deny the occurrence of genocides in history. While typically genocide denial tends to stem from the hatred of the minority, such as in the case of the Holocaust, Neo-Nazis’ hatred of Jews, denial of the Armenian Genocide stems from a more complicated nationalistic root. The prevalence of nationalism in Turkey has forced the debate to be so deeply entrenched in Turkish nationalism that any attempt to admit the existence of the genocide is perceived as a direct attack on the Turkish state or people. (Köksal, ‘Past Not-So-Perfect’, 45).

After Egoyan’s ‘Ararat’ was released, the Canadian-Armenian director received a letter from a young woman asking him why he would create a direct attack on Turkey, in spite of the fact even Turkish intellectuals and critics have noted the film’s leniency towards Turkey (Köksal, ‘Past Not-So-Perfect’, 46). This indicates just how deeply rooted this association is in some sections of society, due to nationalist rhetoric and hegemonic thinking. Reading this prompted me to ask an old friend, who was born and raised in Turkey until the age of 11, and whose parents were born and lived there for 40+ years about what he was taught in Turkey. Almost exactly like Ali, the Turkish actor who questions the Director about wether or not the genocide happened in ‘Ararat,’ my friend deferred to the argument that while the genocide did occur, the Armenians were not innocent and committed their own atrocities towards Turkish civilians. When asked where he got this counter information from he admitted it was entirely from Turkish sources. He explained that even his left-wing, liberal parents rely on that narrative to deny genocide and label it, instead, as a conflict.

This originates in what Gocek calls the ‘Postnationalist Critical Narrative.’ The suggestion that Turks have no problem with Armenians, and therein have provided a clean slate, portrays Armenians like Egoyan as aggressors for their suggestion of the historic guilt of the Turkish state and claims of genocide. This narrative follows a long period of investigations which ended with the state declaring the Armenians as collaborators with imperial powers during the First World War and having ties to ASALA attacks, which became known as the ‘Republican Defence Narrative,’ whose effects still linger on the Turkish population (Köksal, ‘Past Not-So-Perfect’, 51, 52).

Gocek’s research is further relevant to the portrayals of the Genocide, as they both have found use in the same sources, memoirs, diaries and the like, in order to provide evidence and give a voice to the silenced. Due to her realisation that an alternate view would provide a different perspective to that written by Ottoman officials, as part of a larger attempt to provide decolonised histories, especially of minorities, she used similar sources to that of ‘Ararat’ and ‘The Promise’ (Gocek, ‘Review: Postcoloniality, the Ottoman Past, and the Middle East Present,’ 552). However, even the perspectives of missionary-philanthropists, such as Clarence Ussher’s diary in ‘Ararat,’ tend to be ‘filiopietistic’, centring Armenian tradition and ancestry. This indicates the genuine utility of these films in combating denialists and providing an alternative voice (Payaslian, ‘The US and the Armenian Genocide’, 132).

Identity

Woven into Egoyan’s film are certain cornerstones of Armenian identity, to establish the legitimacy and prevalence of Armenian identity both in historic Armenia and the diaspora of which he is a part. It also serves to establish the Armenians as unique within the Ottoman context, as opposed to ‘The Promise’, which uses symbols of Turkishness like the Fez as means to distinguish Turks from ‘non-Turks.’ The first shot of Egoyan’s film, and the film within, is of the famous Mount Ararat. The perceived resting place of Noah’s Ark, of which Armenians think of themselves as direct descendants, is a symbol of both Armenia’s previous location, as well as the intrinsically Christian nature of Armenian identity. This juxtaposition against the fact that Mt Ararat no longer resides within the Armenian border serves to reinforce the geographically displaced nature of Armenian identity and reminds the viewer that just because something is not inside of Armenian territory, does not make it any less Armenian. The mountain also serves to separate Armenia from Turkey, indicating a political as well as a physical divide (Köksal, ‘Past Not-So-Perfect’, 49). A smaller reference in the opening scene, as well as one of the last scenes, is the inclusion of the pomegranate, another important symbol of Armenian identity, that in ‘Ararat’ the Director of the film (played by Charles Aznavour) attempts to bring past the Canadian border. He later explains that it reminds him of his mother in his homeland, but is also a nod to one of Atom Egoyan’s favourite films, ‘The Color of Pomegranates,’ which is another seminal Armenian film.

Image of opened pomegranate by Ivar Leidus, 2020, Wikimedia Creative Commons/share alike; image of Mount Ararat 2026 by Սէրուժ Ուրիշեան (Serouj Ourishian), Wikimedia Creative Commons; Image of poster for The Color of Pomegranates (1969), fair use (image of low resolution for educative purposes).

Apart from being a nod to the displacement of his family, this shares similarities with another focus of ‘Ararat,’ the famous Armenian artist Arshile Gorky. The film delves into Gorky’s relationship with his Mother, which parallels the Directors in the film and the parents of Egoyan’s parents, who were killed in the genocide before his family found refuge in Cairo (Köksal, ‘Past Not-So-Perfect’, 54). The painter is renowned for rendering his mother’s hands unfinished, in a painting based on the last photo of the two of them together, back in Van (Ottoman Turkey). It is speculated that this was Gorky’s means of revisiting his mother after her passing, showing the use of art to contend with the personal and cultural impacts of genocide. This is something also emulated by Egoyan in the film. Furthermore, the naming of Egoyan’s son, Arshile, proves the closeness of the subject matter to his heart and the inherent Armenian-ness of the name. The inclusion of the Gorky storyline also places Armenian heritage within a global context as he was one of the most prominent figures in the Abstract Expressionist movement with the likes of Jackson Pollock, Mark Rothko and Willem de Kooning. Similarly to Egoyan and the Director of the film in the film, Gorky left Armenia and made a name for himself as an artist in the West, allowing Gorky (and Egoyan) to act as representations of Diaspora and the space between Armenians and their homeland, – a prominent feature of their identity as there are Armenians all over the globe who champion their heritage (Heckner, ‘Screening Armenian Genocide’, 142).

Arshile Gorky, The Artist and His Mother, 1926- c.1936, wikipedia public domain image, painting held at Whitney Museum of American Art https://whitney.org/collection/works/2171

Censorship

It only makes sense that in order to maintain the denial of the genocide a certain degree of censorship would be employed by the Turkish government. For example, I am writing this blog in January of 2023, however due to the fact I have a trip booked to Istanbul this summer, I will be waiting until I am back home to publish it. Just in case.

Genocide is part of a large group of subjects which have been the victim of the censorship of Turkish authorities, including but not limited to religion, the Kurds, and labour histories (Erbal, ‘The Armenian Genocide’, 784). Historian Donald Quataert stated his reservations about the direction of Ottoman Studies in his review of Bloxham’s book, The Great Game of Genocide, implying the existence of a type of influence held by American companies over academics due to their relationships with Turkish companies and the Turkish state (Erbal, ‘The Armenian Genocide’, 784). This later was proven true after Quataert and other academics published a letter in both The New York Times and The Washington Post, in opposition to the use of the term ‘genocide’ in House Resolution 192, thereafter he was essentially forced to give up his position on the board of the Institute of Turkish Studies (Erbal, The Armenian Genocide, 785).

However, surprisingly, the release of the film ‘Ararat’ was met with very little resistance from the Turkish state, having been green-lit for showings in Turkish cinemas, maybe due to its aforementioned even- handed approach to discussing Turkish views of the genocide. What eventually prevented its showing in Turkey was the threat posed by radical nationalist terrorist groups towards viewers. This is not the only case in which these groups proved an obstacle towards Armenian reconciliation and genocide recognition. In 2007, nationalists assassinated Hrant Dink, the famous editor of the newspaper ‘Agos.’ His advocacy for integration, reconciliation, human rights and friendship between Armenians and Turks in ‘Agos’ landed him the Oxfam Award for Freedom of Expression in 2006, and the Hermann Kesten Prize in 2007 (Temelkuran, Deep Mountain, 4). If a proponent of mere peace and equality between the two groups warrants assassination in the view of Turkish nationalists, then it is understandable how accusations of genocide and calls for recognition are seen as so dangerous when one considers how closely intertwined with Turkish identity the subject has come to be.

Photograph of Hrant Dink (1954-2007), wikipedia, fair use image.

Overview

The medium of film holds promise when thinking of spreading the word about the Armenian Genocide. It has proven useful in informing the population on other genocides, and the emergence of the first major, blockbuster and mainstream Hollywood feature film on the subject marked the beginning of gaining it the popular awareness it deserves. Furthermore, film has proven to be a more accessible, more palatable form of information for both people unaware of, or in denial of, the genocide. The power of big screen images effectively does the horrors of the genocide justice, and touches the hearts of the population, while simultaneously introducing the cornerstones of Armenian-ness to the world. Hopefully, this marks the start of many yet-to-be-made films that will explore such a significant, yet underrepresented, chapter in history, and will attempt to rectify the injustice perpetrated by decades of denialism.

Bibliography

Baron, Lawrence. ‘Holocaust and Genocide Cinema: Crossing Disciplinary, Genre, and Geographical Borders: Editor’s Introduction,’ Shofar, 28:4, (2010), 1-9.

Erbal, Ayda. ‘The Armenian Genocide, AKA the Elephant in the Room,’ International Journal of Middle East Studies, 47:4 (2015), 783-790.

Göçek, Fatma Müge. ‘Review: Postcoloniality, the Ottoman Past, and the Middle East Present,’ International Journal of Middle East Studies, 44:3 (2012), 549-563.

Heckner, Elke. ‘Screening the Armenian Genocide: Atom Egoyan’s Ararat between Erasure and Suture,’ Shofar, 28:4, (2010), 133-145.

Köksal, Özlem. ‘”Past Not-So-Perfect”: “Ararat” and Its Reception in Turkey,’ Cinema Journal, 54:1 (2014), 45-64.

Payaslian, Simon. ‘The US and the Armenian Genocide: Review Article,’ Middle East Journal, 59:1 (2005), 132-140.

Temelkuran, Ece. Deep Mountain: Across the Turkish-Armenian Divide (New York, 2010).