Memory, Commemoration, and Prevention

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, commemoration is defined as “a calling to remembrance, or preserving in memory, by some solemn observance, public celebration,” or “solemnization of the memory of anything” (OED 2023b). The word originates from the Latin words com (together) and memorāre (mention, remind, or remember) (OED 2023a). This etymology suggests that it is a collective endeavor. More importantly, commemoration is a deliberate recollection of specific people and incidents from the past, and even a celebration and solemnization. Maurice Halbwachs, who first theorized group remembrance as a socially constructed concept that only makes sense within certain social frames and termed it as “collective memory” in 1925, acknowledged the significance of commemoration in this process (Halbwachs Reference Halbwachs1992[1925], 182). Furthermore, commemoration goes beyond being a mere amalgamation of individual beliefs about past people and events; it shapes collective memory (Schwartz Reference Schwartz, Tota and Hagen2016). As Paul Connerton aptly stated, “If there is such a thing as social memory, we are likely to find it in commemorative ceremonies” (Connerton Reference Connerton1989, 71).

Halbwachs was influenced by Émile Durkheim, who defined the purpose of commemoration as “to attach the present to the past” or “individual to the group” (Durkheim Reference Durkheim1915, 378). For Durkheim, commemorative “rites are means by which the social group reaffirms itself periodically.” In other words, Durkheim emphasized the social significance of commemoration in fostering group solidarity and collective identity (Durkheim Reference Durkheim1915, 370–388). This aspect of memory and commemoration has long been of interest to scholars. Jan Assmann and John Czaplicka, for example, have shown how a particular culture constitutes itself through remembering (Assmann and Czaplicka Reference Assmann and Czaplicka1995). Similarly, scholars of nationalism have demonstrated how memory and commemoration create a strong sense of continuity between the past and present and shape collective identity through “imagining communities” or “inventing traditions” (Anderson Reference Anderson2006; Hobsbawm and Ranger Reference Hobsbawm and Ranger2012). In this sense, commemorations are often seen as serving the current political interests of ruling elites (Gillis Reference Gillis1994). On the other hand, commemoration can foster a “counter-memory” among marginalized groups, challenging the mainstream or official memory (Foucault Reference Foucault1977; Young Reference Young1992). Commemoration of traumatic events, such as mass murder and genocide, is not an exception, as it can create a mutual identification with the past among participants (Jacobs Reference Jacobs2014).

However, various groups commemorate past people and events not only to legitimize their interests but also to address more specific needs or problems (Schudson Reference Schudson1992, 213–214). Mourning the loss and respecting victims of violence are needs that their families or friends may have. In Sites of Memory, Sites of Mourning, Jay Winter focuses on “the grief of widows, orphans, parents, friends” and how their loss was expressed in commemorative events. Specifically, instead of viewing the remembrance of the Great War as a top-down project, Winter traces commemoration “from small groups of men and women in family circles” to the nation-state, highlighting how each of them tried to respond to the shock of the war. In other words, Winter recognizes the agency of individual grief in collective mourning. Thus, commemoration, for him, is not just an artificial construct but also a way to retrieve personal grief and seek recognition and reparation for the loss (Winter Reference Winter1995). Winter’s approach not only expands our understanding of commemoration but also prompts us to consider other problems or needs that survivor communities may face.

The desire to prevent violence from recurring can be among the needs and problems that people may want to address in commemoration. This is especially the case when there are reasons, such as unfinished conflicts or unpunished perpetrators, that make people believe in the possibility of new atrocities. Memory, although not always, can contribute to the prevention of genocides and other atrocities (Whigham Reference Whigham2017, 55). In this regard, a growing body of scholarship is devoted to memorial museums as a new form of commemoration, an important feature of which is fostering democratic culture and preventing future atrocities (Sodaro Reference Sodaro2018; Williams Reference Williams2007). However, when it comes to the preventive aspects of memory, two patterns stand out in the existing literature. First, most works have focused either on the role of state actors or the international community. Second, the relationship between memory and prevention is almost always discussed in the context of post-World War II realities. This is understandable, as it was not until the tragedies of World War II that the international community established the foundations for the parallel development of memory and human rights discourses. They became interwoven in the second half of the twentieth century, and therefore as Andreas Huyssen has argued, “the continuing strength of memory politics remains essential for securing human rights in the future” (Huyssen Reference Huyssen2011, 621). Consequently, it is no wonder that existing scholarship offers little to understand how memory and prevention of mass murder and genocide came into play in non-state-centred commemorative forms of individuals, small groups of people, or communities before World War II when there were no sophisticated international preventive mechanisms.Footnote ³

Any discussion of the connection between non-state commemoration of violence and preventing its recurrence inevitably involves considering the relationship between commemoration and political change. This is because prevention requires political or humanitarian intervention at a national or international level, which in turn needs political change. Some challenges in linking non-state commemoration with political change have recently been explored in works that focus on what has been termed “memory activism” in memory studies. It refers to the “strategic commemoration of a contested past to achieve mnemonic or political change by working outside state channels” (Gutman and Wüstenberg Reference Gutman, Wüstenberg, Gutman and Wüstenberg2023, 5). More specifically, it reveals that memory can become a “weapon of the weak” for political change, however not for gaining power but for promoting “moral and ideological visions” for a new future (Gutman Reference Gutman2017, 16, 19). To be sure, these types of memory initiatives do not always achieve their original objectives (Gutman Reference Gutman2017, 19). However, this premise leads us to contemplate how memorializing a tragic past with the intention of preventing its repetition shapes the collective’s perspective on itself. Exploring the commemorative activities of American Armenians in the late nineteenth century serves as an interesting case study not only for examining how non-state actors commemorated violence to prevent its recurrence in various historical periods but also for contributing to our understanding of the formation and transformation of the American Armenian community.

The Armenian Question, Hamidian Massacres, and the USA

The Armenian Question, as a set of complex problems concerning the safety of Armenian Christians in the declining Ottoman Empire, became an issue for European diplomacy following the Russo-Turkish War of 1877–1878 (Dadrian Reference Dadrian1995, 43–60). The resulting Treaty of Berlin promised Ottoman Armenians “to carry out, without delay, the improvements and reforms” and “to guarantee their security” (AJIL 1908, 422). However, the internationalization of the Armenian Question not only failed to garner significant European support but also deepened the mistrust between the Ottoman government and the Armenian minority. What followed were not reforms, but the intensification of anti-Armenian sentiments (Sasuni Reference Sasuni1969, 128–131, 153–169). The ongoing attacks from Kurdish tribes, the corrupt Ottoman state administrative system, the failure of Ottoman constitutionalism, the inability of the Armenians to resolve these issues within the existing frameworks (Millet system), the influence of Russian revolutionary groups, and the examples of successful resistance in the Balkan Peninsula eventually led to the formation of Armenian revolutionary parties in 1885–1890 (Nalbandian Reference Nalbandian1963, 83–89; Libaridian Reference Libaridian2004). In their activities, these revolutionary organizations employed demonstrations to attract and maintain European attention on Armenian affairs, with the objective of ensuring the implementation of the Berlin Treaty. Simultaneously, they frequently organized armed resistance against the oppression and attacks targeting the Armenian population.

One such attempt of resistance by the Hnchakian party in the villages of Sassoun (also spelled as Sasun, a remote mountainous region in Ottoman Armenia) ended up with the massacres of Armenians, and the number of victims is estimated to be between 1,700 and 10,000 (Sasuni Reference Sasuni1956, 580; Leo 1925, 104). In the wake of this event, Great Britain, France, and Russia presented a reform package to the Ottoman government on May 11, 1895. However, Sultan Abdulhamid II showed no willingness to implement the reforms, which prompted the Hnchakians to organize a peaceful demonstration in Constantinople on September 18, 1895 (Kitur Reference Kitur1962, 153–160). The subsequent bloodshed increased international pressure on the Sultan, leading him to eventually sign the program of reforms on October 18, 1895 (Hnchak 1895). However, instead of implementing reforms, a new wave of massacres followed in Trapizon, Erzurum, Bitlis, Van, Diarbekir, and other regions. Despite several cases of resistance, Armenians were unable to prevent the violence. Although the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF), another major Armenian political organization, was able to attract European attention once again with the takeover of the Ottoman Bank in August 1896, the Great Powers took no effective action to stop the massacres, instead only sending protests to the Ottoman government (Garo Reference Garo1990). It is estimated that some 100–300 thousand Armenians fell victim to this bloodshed, known as the Hamidian massacres (Rummel Reference Rummel2009[1994]), 210).

The growth of Armenian immigration to the US was one of the consequences of the Ottoman atrocities. Although the Armenian community in the US was not entirely a by-product of the Ottoman state violence, the great majority of immigrants directly or indirectly experienced persecution.Footnote ⁴ The Armenian-speaking population was mostly concentrated in the Northeast and California (Hunt Reference Hunt1922, 984–985). Worcester, New York City, and Fresno were the cities with the highest concentration of Armenians (Malcom Reference Malcom1919, 73).

Following the Sassoun massacres, news about the atrocities committed against Armenians appeared in most American newspapers (Kirakossian Reference Kirakossian2004). Religious newspapers connected to American missionaries, such as The Christian Herald, The Outlook, and Lend a Hand, pioneered this movement. Without significant political and economic interests in the Ottoman Empire at the time, American missionaries operating there were the main reason for this attention (Dwight, Tupper, and Bliss Reference Dwight, Tupper and Bliss1904, 31; Gordon, Reference Gordon1928). In turn, missionary work was linked to Ottoman Armenians, as they had no success in their efforts to spread Protestantism among the Muslims. Concerns over the fate of missionary personnel and properties in Turkey intermingled with humanitarian incentives and Christian solidarity towards the Armenians. In their accounts of the massacres, missionaries and women’s organizations emphasized the humanitarian or religious aspects of Armenian persecution, the “similarities” between Armenians and Protestants in their devotion to Christ, as well as the victim status of Armenian women (Wilson Reference Wilson2009, 33–35). These narratives were reproduced in the works of some former missionaries and published as separate books, such as Frederick D. Greene’s The Armenian Crisis in Turkey (Reference Greene1895) and Edwin M. Bliss’s Turkey and the Armenian Atrocities (Reference Bliss1896), which multiplied the sensational effects on the American public.Footnote ⁵ Christian sympathy and outrage over Ottoman brutalities also led many Christian groups to organize local relief committees, which eventually developed into the National Armenian Relief Committee (NARC), a nationwide organization that directed fundraising efforts in various American cities (Curti Reference Curti1963, 122–124). It was in this context that Armenian public activism and commemorative practices began.

The Agencies of Commemoration: Early Immigrants, Survivors, Elites, and Institutions in the 1890s

When the Hamidian massacres commenced, there were around three thousand Armenians in the US (Malcom Reference Malcom1919, 66). Although they were not direct survivors of these atrocities, the Ottoman state violence had a significant impact on them. As first-generation immigrants, they still maintained connections and ties to their places of birth in the Ottoman Empire and thus experienced grief over their losses. Participating in commemorative events was a way for them to respond to these losses. In the wake of the Hamidian horrors, however, many survivors also arrived in the US, and by 1898, the overall number of Armenians exceeded 12,000 (Mirak Reference Mirak1983, 47, 290–292; Malcom Reference Malcom1919, 65). Many of them were traumatized and may not have wanted to participate in public commemorations. However, the extent to which people were traumatized varied from person to person. While some survivors chose to suppress their negative memories, others, as demonstrated in this work, participated in public commemorative events. In addition to groups of early immigrants and survivors, the agencies involved in commemoration included the Armenian elites and institutions such as the Armenian church, political parties, and influential intellectuals who promoted remembrance of the destruction. However, while these social actors were instrumental in shaping the commemoration of the Hamidian massacres, they were not homogeneous in their views regarding the tragic events.

Armenian political parties had begun operating in the US shortly after their foundation. By 1894, the Hnchakian party had already established a network in America. Similarly, the American branch of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) began to grow in the following years (Mirak Reference Mirak1983, 241–247). Despite intense competition between these two major parties, they had much in common. Both parties’ political programs were based on socialism and Armenian nationalism. They both emphasized the importance of using “armed” methods to deal with the Hamidian regime in order to prevent new massacres. It was no wonder that a group of American Hnchakians, led by Apah, a party activist, left the US for the Ottoman Empire in the spring of 1895 for that purpose (Kitur Reference Kitur1962, 173). In the fall of the same year, when the Armenian massacres were in full swing, this group engaged in organizing a revolt in Zeitun, an Armenian-inhabited town in Turkey. The resulting four-month resistance finally ended in February 1896 with the intervention of major European powers (Mihrdatian Reference Mihrdatian1909, 39–41). According to one of the Hnchakian leaders, there was a strong belief prior to the revolt that “without [their] preparation and efforts, Zeitun would have been destroyed” and that “undoubtedly, great massacres would have taken place” (Aghasi 1968, 158). Like the Hnchakian party, the ARF favoured “revolutionary” methods as a way of preventing new massacres.Footnote ⁶ In a circular dated June 11, 1897, the central committee of the American branch of the ARF called for the continued struggle against the Hamidian regime, which, they claimed, had already killed 150,000 Armenians and planned to exterminate the rest. The letter specifically urged everyone to donate to a common cause and be prepared to fight against the perpetrators (Tonapetian Reference Tonapetian1993, 65–66). In addition to their “armed” methods, Armenian political parties were the leading advocates for the Armenian Question in the US. They used public meetings, fundraising campaigns, and other methods to draw attention from both the American public and the authorities (Mirak Reference Mirak1983, 241). They fought to bring about a solution to the Armenian Question that they believed would ultimately guarantee the future safety of the Ottoman Armenians.

Not all Armenians in the US shared “revolutionary” perspectives on the Armenian Question. Haik, an Armenian biweekly published in New York from 1891 to 1898, exemplified the existing pluralism. Its editor, Mgrdich Simbad Gabrielian, a graduate of Columbia Medical School and a respected member of the community, called for collaboration among various social layers of Armenians (Haik 1891a). Well before the massacres, he argued that Armenians needed to adopt a “double-edged sword” approach to the Armenian Question. This involved influencing European diplomacy to push for reforms in Ottoman Armenia, while also preparing to take direct action themselves (Haik 1891b). According to Gabrielian, however, none of the existing political groups could accomplish this alone. Therefore, he urged Armenians to form a “central national administration” to coordinate the efforts of all Armenians (Gabrielian Reference Gabrielian1893, 44–45, 47). In contrast to the “revolutionary” methods of political parties, Gabrielian advocated for a realpolitik vision of the Armenian Question, one based on the consideration of the given “conditions” within and around Armenia rather than on “ideology and aspirations” (Haik 1891c.). Over time, he became more critical of the political parties, accusing them of lacking “diplomatic approaches” (Haik 1896b)^. While Gabrielian’s call for more cautious and joint actions had merit, he seemed to have overstated the potential of a “diplomatic approach.”Footnote ⁷ Nevertheless, Gabrielian, despite his disagreement with the political parties, believed, like them, that promoting the Armenian Question was not only about ending oppression but also about the “salvation of the Armenian nation and Armenia’s autonomy” (Gabrielian Reference Gabrielian1893, 40–41).

The Armenian church was cautious and opposed the “revolutionary” methods of the political parties. From 1891, when the first Armenian church in America opened, to 1898, when the Diocese of the Armenian Church of America was established, Holy Savior (Surb P’rkich’) Church in Worcester, Massachusetts had three pastors, all of whom had conflicts with one political party or another. For example, Maghakia Dēroonian (1894–1897), the second pastor, became a target for nationalists who accused him of his alleged silence and absence from communal efforts during the Hamidian massacres (Seropian Reference Seropian1913, 98–104; Minassian Reference Minassian2010, 79–87). One can understand the caution of the Armenian clergy considering that they were under the jurisdiction of the Armenian Patriarchate of Constantinople, which itself was subject to pressure from the Ottoman Sultan. Eventually, the Patriarchate decided to transfer the supervision of American Armenians from the Patriarchate to the Holy See of Ējmiatsin to avoid confrontation with the Sultan, who wanted to use the power of the Patriarch to suppress the influence of Armenian revolutionary parties among Armenians (Ormanian Reference Ormanian2001[1912], 5102–5105). Given these factors, overall, the Armenian clerics in America believed that a solution to the Armenian Question should be achieved “by diplomacy” (Mirak Reference Mirak1983, 185).

Thus, regardless of some tactical differences among these major social actors, they all believed that advocating for the Armenian Question was key to preventing new violence.

Remembering for a Political Change? Mass Meetings and Other Forms of Public Activism

Public meetings were a common way to commemorate the Hamidian massacres. These gatherings typically featured speeches by influential individuals and often included multiple performances, discussions, and sometimes religious rituals, if they were held in churches. Initially Armenians debated in these meetings on how to respond to the tragedy and discussed the possibility of appealing to Europeans. However, despite several initiatives to directly apply to European powers, Armenians gradually shifted their focus to advocating their cause within the American public and in front of authorities. Some Armenians found that centralizing communal grassroots efforts was a more effective way to achieve this goal. Nonetheless, most of the public meetings were not solely intra-communal events; they were the result of collaboration with various Christian groups, women’s organizations, and liberal intellectuals. Due to limited communal resources, many Armenians found that cooperating with pro-Armenian initiatives in America was a more effective way to voice their concerns and champion the Armenian Question in the US.

Some Armenians, including community intellectual Gabrielian, were concerned about the centralization and coordination of grassroots efforts. In a letter published in Haik on February 15, 1895, Chicago Armenians announced the formation of a “national union of Armenians.” This local group not only organized mass meetings, but the letter said it had an “aim, if possible[…] to connect all Armenians of America or found a center” (Haik 1895b). Similar letters from other cities, such as Providence and Philadelphia, soon appeared on the pages of Haik (Haik 1895b). Gabrielian provided a platform for such initiatives because they aligned with his vision of a common center that would transcend all political and denominational differences among Armenians. Eventually, Gabrielian established what he called the “Armenian Patriotic Alliance” (Gabrielian Reference Gabrielian1895, Haik 1895h). Despite its ambitious goals – to become a worldwide Armenian organization and to “free Ottoman Armenia and establish an administration that would ensure the rights to life, property, freedom of press and thought, and enable national progress” – this union never became a body that unified all American Armenians. Nonetheless, it diligently worked to provide a more organized structure for grassroots activities, such as public meetings (Gabrielian Reference Gabrielian1895).

In their efforts to organize public meetings and influence American public opinion and authorities, the Armenian grassroots movement significantly benefited from collaboration with Christian and women’s organizations. One notable example took place at Chickering Hall in New York on December 18, 1894. In this “big mass meeting” and “expression of resentment,” while some prominent individuals, such as orientalist William Hayes Ward and missionary Rev. Edwin Munsell Bliss, delivered speeches, many others sent letters of sympathy (Haik 1894). The resolution adopted at the end of the meeting expressed sympathy for the Armenians and called on the American government “to undertake measures” to stop Armenian atrocities “in love for humanity” (Haik 1895a). Community intellectuals, including Gabrielian, often served as key speakers at these events. For instance, in a mass meeting held at the Episcopal Church of Holy Apostles in Manhattan on February 24, 1895, several hundred people, including Armenians, listened to public lectures given by Gabrielian and Colonel Alexander S. Bacon. Many Americans heard about the Armenians and Armenia “for the first time” at this meeting, as was often the case in many others. As usual, this meeting, too, ended up adopting a resolution and sending it to Washington and London with the consent of the attendees (Haik 1895c).

Armenian public activism went beyond mass meetings, as they found additional ways to collaborate with local intellectuals and groups. In this regard, the society “United Friends of Armenia” played a significant role in raising awareness about the Hamidian massacres. Founded by women suffrage activist Alice Stone Blackwell and Ohannes Chatschumian, a young Armenian man who came to America to represent the Armenian Church at the World Congress of Religions (part of the Chicago World’s Fair), the society brought together many New England intellectuals and social reformers, under the leadership of abolitionist and suffragist Julia Ward Howe (The Outlook 1895). This society had two closely interrelated objectives: “to spread knowledge and understanding of the Armenians and awaken sympathy for them in the American public,” as well as “to do everything possible to secure help and protection for them at the hands of the Turks.” (Blackwell, Reference Blackwelln.d.). The publication of Armenian Poems: Rendered into English Verse (1896), a collection of Armenian poetry translated and compiled by Stone Blackwell and Chatschumian, clearly aligned with the society’s main objectives. As Stone Blackwell put it in the Preface, the book consisting of around sixty poems aimed to introduce Armenian poetry to American readers and deepen “the sympathy already felt for the Armenians in their martyrdom” (Blackwell Reference Blackwell1896, i). “The unforgettable friend of the Armenians,” as Haik named Stone Blackwell, and her “United Friends of Armenia” not only tirelessly worked to awaken sympathy for Armenians and alert the American public to the danger of new massacres but also advocated for specific actions that ordinary Americans could take to help prevent them (Haik 1895e). In an article titled “What to Do” published in the Woman’s Journal, Stone Blackwell urged her American readers to organize public gatherings and collaborate with churches, city councils, state legislatures, and various organizations to appeal to the US government. She recommended that these communications include “a protest against the atrocities and a declaration that it is the duty of civilized nations to unite to put a stop to such deeds.” At the conclusion of the article, she summarized her and the society’s firm conviction: “Public opinion is omnipotent, and each of us controls a portion of public opinion. Let us all do what we can to bring these hideous atrocities to an end” (Woman’s Journal 1895). Blackwell and “United Friends of Armenia” worked diligently with the Armenian community in the following years, establishing themselves as one of the pioneers of pro-Armenian activism in the US (Balakian Reference Balakian2003).

Overall, Armenian grassroots efforts lacked a sophisticated structure and were still in the early stages of development. Furthermore, these efforts were frequently disconnected from each other or intertwined with the initiatives of pro-Armenian groups. As a result, it is quite difficult to judge the effectiveness of their actions apart from the larger picture of the pro-Armenian initiatives at that time.Footnote ⁸ However, regardless of the forms and effectiveness of Armenian grassroots activism, their primary goal was to prevent the repetition of massacres. This is particularly evident in the petitions submitted by Armenian immigrants to US authorities, some of which are documented in the Congressional Record. For instance, during the discussions of the Armenian Question in Congress in December 1895, Senator George F. Hoar of Massachusetts presented a petition from the Armenian community, in which Armenians pleaded for “vigorous measures” to be recommended to the President of the United States “for putting a stop to the most horrible crime of the century – the indiscriminate slaughter and annihilation of Armenian Christians.” They asked Congress for “words of encouragement and the warning note that will stay the bloody arm of [their] oppressors” (Congressional Record 1895–1896, 32). What is striking is the rationale behind the Armenian immigrants’ appeal for American intervention to prevent further violence. The petition stated that “the sword of Islam is unsheathed” and warned that without intervention, Armenia would “inevitably become a desert and a tomb” (Congressional Record 1895–1896, 32). The importance of the Christian religion in American politics and society partly explains why Armenian immigrants framed their appeal to prevent new massacres as a kind of Christian cause.Footnote ⁹

Sgahandes: Mourning

On November 29, 1894, Thanksgiving Day, the Armenian Apostolic Church of Our Savior in Worcester held an unusual ceremony – a celebration of the High Mass of Requiem for “Armenia’s patriots in general” and “the victims of the recent massacre at Sassoun in particular” (Worcester Telegram 1894b). The church was filled with Armenian men and women who later marched to Curtis Hall in the Y.M.C.A. building located in the downtown, the meeting place for the Armenian Congregational Church. At Curtis Hall, the mourning ritual continued, with the Protestant pastor delivering a lengthy oratory (Worcester Telegram 1894b). This ceremony, along with the march, brought together both Apostolic and Protestant Armenians to mourn the mass destruction of their compatriots in the Ottoman Empire.

This mourning ceremony in Worcester was one of many similar rituals organized in various American cities in response to the Hamidian massacres. However, this particular event stands out for several reasons. First, it took place in Worcester, which was the centre of the Armenian community at that time. Additionally, it was organized by both Apostolics and Protestants, providing a more nuanced portrayal of commemorative practices. Second, it was one of the community’s earliest responses to the tragedy, allowing us to observe the evolution of commemorative practices. Lastly, unlike most other events, we have a detailed description of it from a non-Armenian source – the reporter of Worcester Telegram. This offers insight into how the event was perceived by the host society.

This ceremony, described by the American journalist, was what Armenians call sgahandes. This word derives from the Armenian words “sug” (mourning, grief, sorrow) and “handes” (ceremony) and is defined as “a mourning ceremony performed in memory of a mournful event” (Abrahamyan Reference Abrahamyan1980, 283). Whether it is an individual or collective death, mourning is a natural response to loss, and sgahandes is an expression of sorrow. However, what distinguished this mourning ceremony from other sgahandes or funerals was that the participants were not mourning just one person but thousands of massacred people. In organizing sgahandes, hundreds of American Armenians expressed their personal connections to the victims. It was a tragedy that deeply affected the entire community, not just one family. This was evident during the first part of the ceremony at the Apostolic church, where Pastor Father Dēroonian knelt before the altar and prayed for the souls of the victims, and the prayer triggered an “open demonstration of sorrow” – “sobbing” of women “mingled with strange restlessness among the men” (Worcester Telegram 1894b). The participants expressed grief over the loss of their brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, relatives, and friends.

When it comes to collective death, sgahandes is more than merely about mourning. As a rule, it reflects commemorative narratives in a condensed form (see the next section). This is especially evident during the final part of sgahandes at Curtis Hall when Protestant pastor, Rev. Kios Kemalian, read from the 8th and 9th chapters of Jeremiah and Lamentations. One could easily find similarities between Sassoun and Jerusalem, between the peoples of Armenia and Judea. Furthermore, Rev. Kemalian began his sermon with the text of Exodus 33:15. “And he said unto him, if thy presence go not with me, carry us not up hence.” Like “Moses in the wilderness,” the preacher continued, “chose rather to die than to live on without the leadership of God,” Armenians too, he proclaimed, “die because they would not deny the Christ.” He called on the participants to let “the blood of Sassoon” unite them “closer than ever before.” “Do your duty for the everlasting salvation and For Delivery of Our People from oppression,” Rev. Kemalian urged everyone at the end of the sermon (Worcester Telegram 1894b).

This commemorative event also included a thirty-minute demonstrative march to make the tragedy of the Armenian people visible in the public space of the city. The march resembled a funeral procession of around four hundred gloomy people who walked from the Church of Our Savior to Curtis Hall. The marchers wore black bands on their right arms, an element of Victorian mourning tradition that symbolized their grief (Lightfoot Reference Lightfoot2019, 122). Leading the procession was an Armenian carrying the American flag, followed by another Armenian carrying a black banner with white lettering. One might easily read those few words: “Thanksgiving for Americans, we mourn massacred Armenians.” The reporter of Worcester Telegram, attending the march, found something “very strange and foreign” in this march, though he noted that it “was conducted after the American fashion.” He also noted that “the spectator may have become sympathetic by a quickened memory of the cause for which the demonstration took place” (Worcester Telegram 1894b). These observations revealed that the primary goal of the march was to raise awareness. The march held on a national holiday not only enabled more Armenians to participate but also potentially created a contrast with the meaning of the day – a “domestic occasion” that was meant to foster social solidarity in American society (Adamczyk Reference Adamczyk2002, 351; Pleck Reference Pleck1999, 773–789).

Narrating Death

If memory is “an active process of sense making through time,” (Olick and Levy Reference Olick and Levy1997, 922) and it is made in commemorative forms, then the study of commemoration provides a key to understanding how a particular group makes sense of the past. The process of sense-making, arguably, is an intentional one, initiated and performed by commemorative agencies, with narrative playing a fundamental role. As noted by philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre, a person is “in his actions and practices, as well as in his fictions, essentially a story-telling animal” (Maclntyre Reference Maclntyre1984, 216). According to MacIntyre, one can answer the question “What am I to do?” after answering the prior question “Of what story or stories do I find myself a part?” (Maclntyre Reference Maclntyre1984, 216). In other words, examining the narrative of an individual or group not only reveals a lot about their identity and experiences but also sheds light on why they choose to tell that particular story. While the definition of narrative is disputed, we will focus on two key aspects. First, in collective remembering, people construct meaning by utilizing the “tools” of existing narratives that are “already in place, already ‘there,’ deeply entrenched in culture and language” (Bruner Reference Bruner1990, 11). By identifying these “tools,” one can trace and understand the origin of the commemorative narratives of the Hamidian massacres. Second, as psychologist Jerome Bruner noted, narrative “mediates between the canonical world of culture and the more idiosyncratic world of beliefs, desires, and hopes” (Bruner Reference Bruner1990, 52). In other words, by examining the narratives employed by American Armenians, one can gain insight into their intentions behind engaging in commemorative activities.

The close reading of commemorative texts reveals a common “tool” – the portrayal of the Hamidian massacres as martyrdom for the Christian faith. This phenomenon is present in almost all commemorative forms, but it is well exemplified in several American Armenian publications of that time, including George Filian’s Armenia and Her People, Ohan Gaidzakian’s Illustrated Armenia and the Armenians, and Antranig Azhderian’s The Turk and the Land of Haig. These books offer an oversimplified interpretation: Armenians were massacred because they refused to abandon their religion. This type of narration of tragic events was not a novelty in Armenian history. The Armenian literary tradition, shaped in the works of scholar-monks of the Armenian Church, has traditionally interpreted defeats and losses as martyrdom for the faith. Perhaps the most well-known and classic example is the story of Vardan Mamikonian – the martyred hero of the Battle of Avarayr, who led Armenians against Zoroastrian Iran to defend Armenia’s Christian faith in the fifth century and was later canonized by the church. It is no wonder that many parallels between the martyrs of the Avarayr Battle and those of the Hamidian massacres can be found in other commemorative forms (Gaidzakian Reference Gaidzakian1898, 129–134; Filian Reference Filian1896, 90–92; Azhderian Reference Azhderian1898, 112–115).Footnote ¹⁰

These books, however, not only depicted the Hamidian massacres but also presented the entire Armenian history from a religious perspective. The authors emphasized the suffering endured by the Armenians due to their loyalty to Christianity. They particularly emphasized the ancientness of Armenian civilization to illustrate their lasting connection with Christianity. As one author stated, Armenians were “the most ancient among the ancient… a land where man first communed with his God” (Azhderian 1998, 13). The authors also territorialized Armenia and interpreted pre-Christian Armenian history using biblical terms and narratives. They did so by reproducing one of the attempts of territorialization of biblical Eden in Armenia.Footnote ¹¹ Similarly, they reproduced Genesis flood narratives that described how Noah’s Ark came to rest on Mount Ararat, which is located in the heart of Armenia (Gaidzakian Reference Gaidzakian1898, 13–25; Filian Reference Filian1896, 33, 42; Azhderian Reference Azhderian1898, 15–19). Not only were the Armenians the first to interact with God, these books argued, but they were also “the first nation to adopt Christianity as a national religion” (Gaidzakian Reference Gaidzakian1898, 39).

Stories are never innocent. This is not only because the authors of these books were men of God, or because their understanding of history was informed by Armenian literary tradition. They were also immigrant Armenians from the Ottoman Empire who had concerns, fears, hopes, and intentions, even though they did not have a clear political agenda (Gaidzakian Reference Gaidzakian1898, 255; Filian Reference Filian1896, 361; Azhderian, Reference Azhderian1898, 405–408). As Jerome Bruner argued, “Telling others about oneself … depends on what we think they think we ought to be like” (Bruner Reference Bruner2002, 66). Their narratives went hand in hand with the interpretation of the massacres given by American missionaries – and arguably have been nurtured by it – which, as already discussed, echoed religious solidarity, humanitarian incentives, and concerns over the fate of missionary personnel and properties in Turkey. They embraced this kind of interpretation with an overemphasis on the idea of martyrdom and religious factors because it enabled them to present Armenian suffering to the American public and authorities in a more understandable language. They believed that highlighting the common Christian values would evoke greater sympathy and support from the Americans. It came as no surprise, then, that the strong emphasis on devotion to Christianity, and especially Armenians’ experience with Protestantism, led one of these authors to declare the Armenians as “the Anglo-Saxons of the East” (Gaidzakian Reference Gaidzakian1898, 79).

Commemorative forms, however, included another layer of narration that did not contradict the religious one but rather complicated it. According to it, although Armenians experienced martyrdom, they were not landless martyrs. The concept of Armenia, also referred to as a “home,” “the Land of Haig,” “homeland,” and “fatherland,” was an integral and indispensable part of the commemorative stories. For example, Filian’s volume was “in remembrance of the martyrs of Armenia,” Antranig Azhderian dedicated the book “to the memory” of his “home across the sea.” Moreover, the title of his work (“The Turk and the Land of Haig; or Turkey and Armenia”) was quite revealing (Filian Reference Filian1896, 46; Gaidzakian Reference Gaidzakian1898, 3; Azhderian Reference Azhderian1898, iii). The concept of Armenia was perhaps best encapsulated in one of the popular images of that time, known as “Mother Armenia” or “Spirit of Armenia,” widely used in Armenian immigrant communities both in America and Europe. It depicted a woman – the spirit of Armenia – sitting and weeping on the ruins with Mount Ararat in the background (Aramian Reference Aramian1860, 94, 96). This image appeared in various Armenian publications in the US, and even in performances of the 1890s, and its examination offers insight into how Armenian cultural nationalism influenced the commemoration of the Hamidian massacres.

In 1895, Armenians took part in the Fourth of July parade in Fresno, CA with a beautifully crafted float that was a live presentation of this image. In the centre of the float, Suzi Markarian, a young Armenian woman who personified Armenia, was surrounded by the ruins of churches and cities. A crown, a sceptre, an old Armenian parchment of the Gospel, a sword, and other weapons had been scattered on the ruins. The float was surrounded by four pillars carrying arched boards with the inscriptions of “Armenia” and “Armenia in Ruins” on the front and back sides respectively. An Armenian coat of arms rising on the front arched board was surrounded by flapping American flags (Haik 1895f). An article in the San Francisco Examiner the next day with the subtitle “Armenians Draw Attention to the Oppression of Their Brethren” noted that of the twenty-two floats participating in the parade “the finest float was that of the Armenian colony” (SFE 1895). Another article published in Haik went further to proclaim, “The American Goddess of Liberty was overshadowed by ‘Mother Armenia’” (Haik 1895f).

“Thoughts about society are almost always invested in personal images,” American sociologist Burry Schwarz warns (Schwartz Reference Schwartz1991, 301). “Mother Armenia” had not been etched during the Hamidian massacres, but traces its origin back to the 1860s, the heyday of the Armenian cultural renaissance when the concept of Armenia (and the Armenian identity), despite having thousands of years of history, was in the process of transformation in the works of Armenian intellectuals (Suny Reference Suny2015, 73; Panossian Reference Panossian2006, 2). European concepts of liberalism and nationalism had transformed the way the Armenian intellectual elites conceived their collective identity and existence (Libaridian Reference Libaridian2004, 55–58). In the wake of this transformation, Ottoman Armenians had begun to acquire a shape of a modern nation through democratization and secularization. In this new version of the community, they imagined the Armenian nation as an ethno-territorial unit and not just a deterritorialized religious community, as the Ottoman government did for several centuries. Although the Berlin Treaty – the passport of the Armenian Question – had no mention of the word “Armenia,” instead using “provinces inhabited by Armenians,” however, the reform project, prepared by the Armenian Patriarchate for the Congress of Berlin, clearly indicated that the Armenian elites had championed a territorialized vision for the community (Tsragir 1878). This vision was also shared by the Armenian political parties formed a decade later, which considered the land inhabited by Ottoman Armenians as the largest part of the Armenian fatherland – Armenia (Hnchak 1888; Droschak 1894). Beyond showcasing the Armenian territorialized perception of their collective existence, the Berlin Congress and the subsequent treaty made the Armenian Question – a question of reforms in the eastern provinces of the Ottoman Empire – an issue of international diplomacy (Sarkissian Reference Sarkissian1938, 22–23). Since then, many Armenians had linked their security, and therefore the prevention of future atrocities with the Great Powers.

The aforementioned context highlights two important insights regarding the use of “Mother Armenia” in commemorative forms. First, it indicates the influence of Armenian cultural nationalism. That is, for the Armenian elites, the Hamidian massacres were not only a mass destruction of people but also a major blow to the Armenian national cause – the safe collective existence of Armenians in Ottoman Armenia. Second, by telling the story of “Mother Armenia” in their commemorations, Armenians combined mourning for the dead with expressing their concerns for the fate of the surviving Armenians. “Mother Armenia” was more about the present and future rather than the past. Despite being in ruins, “Mother Armenia” was still alive by her surviving sons and daughters, demanding attention from the American public and authorities. This echoes the logic of the post-Berlin activism of Armenians for their cause.

From Sgahandes to a Remembrance Day and Church-Monument: Negotiating Identity and Building Community

Collective remembering typically includes some identity project – “remembering in the service of constructing what kind of people we are” (Wertsch and Roediger Reference Wertsch and Roediger2008, 320). Our interrogation of this premise is informed by Khatchig Tölölyan’s theorization of Armenian dispersion as a transformation from “exile to diaspora” (Tölölyan Reference Tölölyan2000, 107–108, 120, 124). When it comes to the Armenians of the US in the late nineteenth century, we deal with what Tölölyan refers to as “exile communities,” which he describes as “fragments of nation awaiting for real or even symbolic repatriation.”Footnote ¹² Building upon this perspective, Simon Payaslian has traced this transformation among American Armenians, with a focus on how they imagined Armenia, considering the importance of the country of departure for exilic/diasporic identity (Payaslian Reference Payaslian, Gal, Leoussi and Smith2010). What is especially of interest to us is that Payaslian notes that, unlike the later generations, who became “symbolic Armenians,” for the early immigrants, and especially the genocide survivors, “the imagination of the homeland rested upon their first-hand experiences before and during the cataclysmic events of World War I” (Payaslian Reference Payaslian, Gal, Leoussi and Smith2010, 105). However, these cataclysmic events encompassed not only the massacres during World War I but also those that occurred in 1894–1897. Therefore, the imagination of the homeland in the 1890s was deeply intertwined with the tragic experiences of that time. Consequently, any identity issue related to American Armenians prior the 1915 Genocide cannot be discussed without the impact of the Hamidian massacres on it.

For elites and institutions, commemorating massacres meant transforming individual traumatic experiences into collective remembrance, which could foster a shared understanding of the past and contribute to communal cohesion. This makes more sense when considering one of the primary concerns of religious and political elites during the formative years of the community: the preservation of Armenians “from being alienated” (Minassian Reference Minassian2010, 72). The Apostolic Church, for instance, aimed to preserve the “old” culture, language, family, and marriage in the New World (Mirak Reference Mirak1983, 193). However, church attendance in America had significantly declined compared to the home country (Mirak Reference Mirak1983, 198–201). Additionally, there was intense competition between the Apostolic and Protestant churches, as the latter emphasized the importance of adapting to the “new” culture (Mirak Reference Mirak1983, 201). Among Armenian immigrants and survivors who came from various villages and towns of the Ottoman Empire, regional identities often dominated national or confessional ones (Sahakyan Reference Sahakyan2015, 83–84). By commemorating the Ottoman violence, they could address these challenges and attract all layers of Armenian immigrants because it concerned all of them regardless of their regional or confessional differences.

Establishing and observing a remembrance day for the massacres was one way for elites and institutions to translate individual memories into collective remembering. On August 3, 1895, a year after the Sassoun massacres, Armenians organized a “Ceremony for the First Anniversary of the Martyrdom of Sassoun” (Handēs arajin taredardsi Sasnoy nahatakut‘ean) at St. Bartholomew Church in Manhattan. It has been argued that periodic observance of anniversaries functions “to maintain the memory of extraordinary events and persons and to preserve their essence in collective consciousness” (Schwartz Reference Schwartz, Tota and Hagen2016, 12). In doing so, however, instead of representing Armenians as passive victims, the elites highlighted their resistance during the massacres. This is evident in the speeches delivered during the first-anniversary event by two prominent communal intellectuals – Dr. A. Ayvazian and Dr. M. S. Gabrielian. Specifically, according to Ayvazian, as “Sassoun Armenians fell from the Turkish sword after fearless resistance,” they “were awarded the title of hero” and went with the “glorious crown of a martyr.” “May we be inspired by the courage of our dead brothers and sisters and be devoted to the cause of our Fatherland,” Ayvazian proclaimed. In his speech, Gabrielian further emphasized the heroism of Sassoun Armenians, who, in his words, were resisting the perpetrators “as Tigrans” and “martyred as Vardans” (Haik 1895i).Footnote ¹³ By representing the victims as resisting heroes who gave their lives so the nation could live, the intellectuals sought to inspire the participants with the supposed courage and devotion of the victims to the national cause. The elites aimed to build an identity for Armenians, who were expected to take pride in their past rather than feel shame for being victimized. In their interpretation, the unfinished struggle for the national cause that took the lives of so many martyr-heroes placed moral obligations on those who survived to continue the struggle. This struggle, above all, for American Armenians meant a struggle for the solution to the Armenian Question.Footnote ¹⁴

Shortly after observing the first anniversary of the massacres, the communal leadership had to make amendments to the commemorative vocabulary and calendar. The new and larger-scale wave of Ottoman violence in the fall of 1895 overshadowed even the Sassoun massacres. On October 15, 1895, the front page of Haik bore the headline “In Memory of the Souls of those who Martyred for the Love of Fatherland – Constantinople, Trapizon, Van, Sebastia, Mush, and other Armenian populated provinces” under a Christian Cross. The editorial lamented that while Armenians were grieving for Sassoun, they now “go into deep mourning” for the “thousands of victims in Constantinople and provinces” (Haik 1895j). Starting the following year, American Armenians began to commemorate the Hamidian massacres on the first Sunday of November. This was not a random choice but approximately corresponded to the time of violence in the Kharberd region of the Ottoman Empire in 1895. By that time, Kharberdts‘is constituted a majority among American Armenians (Seropian Reference Seropian1913, 380–381). As the massacres affected most of the Ottoman Empire, there was no longer a sole emphasis on Sassoun. For example, the memorial worship service organized in the Armenian Evangelical Church of New York on Sunday, November 10, 1901, “commemorated the martyrdom of 100,000 Armenians” (Gotchnag 1901c). Despite the changes in vocabulary and the calendar, annual commemoration had become an integral part of communal life. Finally, the new wave of violence in the fall of 1895 heightened concerns about the possibility of future massacres.

In addition to the remembrance day, the Armenians erected a church-monument dedicated to the memory of the victims. The initiative to build a church “in memory of the Armenian Martyrs” emerged during one of the yearly commemorative events in Curtis Hall on the first Sunday of November 1898 (Gotchnag 1901c; Seropian Reference Seropian1913, 379–381). Besides its religious implications, the church was expected to function as a monument (memorial).Footnote ¹⁵ Monuments, as a form of commemoration, are often most visible in public spaces and can provide valuable insights about a specific group.Footnote ¹⁶ This church-monument pinpointed how important the remembrance of the Hamidian massacres was for the Armenian immigrants, as they made it more visible in their public sphere. In this regard, what became known as the Armenian Church of the Martyrs stands out for three major interrelated reasons. First, as a monument, this church, above all, was expected to function for mourning purposes and to respect the memory of loss. Gotchnag, the leading Armenian religious weekly in the US, noted:

Second, while commemorating people and events from the past, monuments are “ways of mediating between particular types of pasts and futures.” Monuments become a form of bequest or testament, carrying their legacy or message into the future (Anderson Reference Anderson, Jackson and Pye1978, 301). In this sense, the Church of the Martyrs built by Armenian immigrants was not merely a carrier of the memory of Ottoman violence; rather, it mediated the religious interpretations of the past promoted by communal leadership and institutions. Although the monument was named after and dedicated to the martyrs, as Gotchnag argued, it reflected and emphasized the “faith” for which they were martyred (Gotchnag 1901b). More importantly, the “faith” was expected to serve as a “testament” from the martyrs to the survivors, believed to prevent the latter from becoming victims of the “fangs of the monster of Yildiz.”Footnote ¹⁷ As is often the case with religious (Christian) arguments, the preventive power of “faith” was supported by a Biblical reference: “Whosoever shall fall upon that stone shall be broken; but on whomsoever it shall fall, it will grind him to powder (Luke 20:18)” (Gotchnag 1901b). Beyond its secular functions of persuasion and mobilization, what is remarkable about this religious argument is how it reflected the beliefs, assumptions, and organizational objectives through which the communal elites and institutions viewed the Hamidian violence and sought to move forward with its legacy.

Last but not least, the same weekly also emphasized the new church’s social significance for the community. As one of the editorials noted, the church brought together “those who had been separated in the dark days of the upheaval” (Gotchnag 1901d).

Thus, whether it is a remembrance day or a church-monument, the commemoration of Ottoman violence involved a process of identity and community building for Armenians in the US. This, in turn, contributed to their mobilization to advocate for the Armenian Question. However, this process was not limited to internal consumption. Identity is formed through narrative, which is “oriented toward ‘reference group’ and ‘significant others’ who set the cultural standards by which it judges itself” (Bruner Reference Bruner2002, 70–71). As discussed earlier, Armenian elites aimed to create a positive image of Armenian immigrants in the host society through their commemorative narratives. However, while social acceptance was important for Armenian immigrants,Footnote ¹⁸ it was also a crucial prerequisite for effectively advancing the Armenian Question in the host society. As previously demonstrated, they did this by interpreting the Armenian massacres through a religious lens and depicting Armenians as people sacrificing their lives for the Christian faith. This self-image reflected the primary objective of the Armenian community leadership – to garner public empathy and sympathy and convert it into real political support for the Armenian Question. It is not surprising that they utilized this constructed self-image to influence American society and authorities from the 1890s until the aftermath of World War I (Payaslian Reference Payaslian, Gal, Leoussi and Smith2010, 117).