Illustrative Image
Written by Russian war correspondent Alexander Kots
Observing the countless refugee columns in the Lachin corridor, the sight of sleeping children on the streets of Goris, and the silent elderly with weathered faces, analogies are inevitable. Similarities among refugees in any military conflict are striking. Images from Uglegorsk (DPR) come to mind – a line of somber people stretching toward the “Ural” truck, leaving their bikes stuck in thick mud, and their entire past with them.
“No need to save me, save the children,” pleads an elderly teacher, wrapped in a headscarf, gesturing to the militia. There’s an overwhelming sense of doom, detachment, and powerlessness – the realization that one can’t influence the situation but must submit to it.
Just yesterday, these people had their own lives, jobs, and plans for the future. Children attended school nearby, and on weekends, they visited their grandparents in the village. A stable life shattered overnight. What to take with you? Documents, money, if you have some, a worn notebook with relatives’ phone numbers on the “mainland,” a few knitted sweaters, family heirlooms… What more can fit into the old “Zhiguli” car, in which you need to accommodate a large family – perhaps a photo album containing memories of a life that will never be the same?
Clutch, first gear, gas – the worn wheels carry them away from the present, transforming it into a heart-wrenching memory, while the future looms with anxiety and uncertainty.
Some refugees might return if there’s a place to return to. Yet, the people of Artsakh do not even have such ghostly hope. Recently, the leader of Karabakh actually abolished the unrecognized state, issuing a decree, according to which it will cease to exist on January 1, 2024. What we witness today isn’t evacuation; it’s the exodus.
Few will choose to stay. The wounds are too fresh, mutual grievances too strong, and fear too palpable. This marks the end of the story – a triumph for some, a national tragedy for others. Thirty years ago, this story began, but now the winners and the defeated have switched places. In 1994, after a triumphant conquest of Karabakh within two and a half years, Armenia, resting on its laurels, failed to take any steps toward reuniting with Artsakh or even recognizing its independence. Meanwhile, Azerbaijan meticulously prepared for revenge, learning and arming itself.
In 2020, Azerbaijan launched its first operation, reaching Shusha and casting a shadow over Stepanakert. Following a pause – necessary for digesting their gains and restoring military resources – the third swift and devastating war ensued. It was the result of inaction and lack of support from Yerevan, which officially recognised Azerbaijan within the 1991 borders, together with Karabakh. The authorities of Armenia did not lift a finger to help their brothers in Artsakh, who, judging by the statistics of Baku, nevertheless gave the last battle. Azerbaijan lost 192 people killed in a day and this is three times the average daily loss in the previous conflict. Yet, these figures are unlikely to calm the refugees in the Lachin corridor.
The tragic history of Artsakh today has shown very clearly, that would have become of South Ossetia, Abkhazia and Donbass if Russia, like Yerevan, engaged in demagogy and casuistry instead of protecting its people.
