Contemporary Authors

• Journey through Genocide: Stories of Survivors and the Dead - 2018 Dundurn, Toronto, Ontario, Canada

• CBC - https://www.cbc.ca/mediacentre/bio/raffy-boudjikanian

  Raffy Boudjikanian
  Raffy Boudjikanian is the CBC's national news reporter in Edmonton. His beat often has him covering indigenous issues, provincial politics, and the oil and gas industry, from Alberta's capital to its northern border, and sometimes beyond,

  Raffy started working in the industry as a reporter for The Chronicle, a weekly newspaper covering Montreal. He moved on to the CBC's local newsroom in the same city in 2010. Raffy's a relatively recent transplant to Alberta, first moving to Calgary in 2016 to work as a network field producer, and then to Edmonton in fall 2017 for his current gig.

  Raffy's covered major stories in both Quebec and Alberta for the CBC, from the Lac Mégantic train derailment in 2013, to chronicling the reemergence of the political right in Alberta in recent months. He's also often been a part of big stories in Saskatchewan, including the trial in the shooting death of Colten Boushie, or the Humboldt bus crash that saw 16 people killed.

  He's filed stories out of France, Nicaragua, Chad, Rwanda, and Turkey as well.

• Horizon - https://horizonweekly.ca/en/journey-through-genocide-stories-of-survivors-and-the-dead-interview-with-canadian-armenian-journalist-raffy-boudjikanian/

  QUOTED: "In a way, the entire study of previous genocides is hindsight speculation—that hardly makes it a worthless endeavour, since we would have no hope of avoiding the repetition of past atrocities with no knowledge of how and why they occurred in the first place."
  "I felt a deep, emotional, visceral attachment to Kharpert when I was there, more powerful than any nostalgia, and yet not explicable by nostalgia, because I’d never been there before."

  Journey through Genocide: Stories of survivors and the dead – Interview with Canadian-Armenian journalist Raffy Boudjikanian
  August 09, 2018 781 0
  Horizon Weekly Newspaper
  By Goryoun Koyounian

  Horizon Weekly

  The past 100 years have seen unspeakable horrors inflicted on scores of innocent lives, in Turkey, in Germany, in Rwanda, and others. These crimes against humanity have created a cycle of impunity that reverberates to this day. Among those with a real stake in the struggle for justice and reconciliation is Canadian-Armenian journalist Raffy Boudjikanian, whose grandparents were forced to flee their home in Kharpert (Harput), modern Turkey, and settle in Beirut, Lebanon, as a result of the Armenian genocide. In Journey Through Genocide: Stories of Survivors And The Dead, the CBC Edmonton national reporter travels to three countries afflicted by genocide in order to better understand the nature of such a crime as well as to explore some of its indelible but less-evident marks on its victims. In the following email interview, Raffy Boudjikanian expands on these observations and explains his thoughts on some of the major themes of his book.

  As in the case of the Armenian genocide, much of the West stood by idly as Rwandan Tutsis were systematically massacred in 1994. The champions of morality, embodied by the invincible figure of Superman, failed to stand up for the plight of a helpless people. At the risk of engaging in hindsight speculation, what would champions of morality have done to prevent this from occurring? What do you make of the UN’s ‘Responsibility to Protect’ doctrine as a viable route to genocide prevention?
  In a way, the entire study of previous genocides is hindsight speculation–that hardly makes it a worthless endeavour, since we would have no hope of avoiding the repetition of past atrocities with no knowledge of how and why they occurred in the first place.

  Better minds than mine have already engaged in this kind of analysis. In his “Building an anti-genocide regime” paper, for instance, professor Gregory H. Stanton of the N.G.O. Genocide Watch looks back at Rwanda, points out how the U.N. Security Council had voted to pull out its 2,500 UNAMIR troops, and suggests one of the problems the international body faces is that its “peacekeeping forces […] are composed of national troop contingents voluntarily contributed by risk-averse national governments.”

  He then cites a potential solution, the idea of a “standing, volunteer, professional, rapid-response force that does not depend on member governments’ contribution of brigades from their own armies.”

  Of course, Stanton fully acknowledges that would still require the political goodwill of countries willing to pitch in for the creation of such a force.

  In Kigali, the capital of Rwanda, you point out, genocide perpetrators and their victims sometimes live side-by-side. Though atonement for the crime is far from complete, their society has indeed come a long way since 1994. Is Rwanda, in your view, the exemplary case of coping with a post-genocide reality, and how does that inform your hopes of a renewed understanding between Turks and Armenians?
  I’m not entirely sure there can ever be an ideal way of dealing with a post-genocide reality, but Rwanda seems to be trying very hard.

  That being said, there are, of course, lots of differences between Rwanda and the Armenia/Turkey situation. A chief one is that Rwanda is a single country, run by a government led by Paul Kagame, a man who was a key part of defeating the genocidal Interahamwe militia.

  From there flowed an examination of what actually happened during the genocide itself, and then the two efforts of seeking justice while also attempting reconciliation.

  I would not presume to speak on behalf of either Armenia or Turkey, but both Armenian elected officials and Diaspora Armenian organizations have made their positions public enough over the years to suggest that reconciliation with Turkey cannot really start without the latter’s recognition of the genocide first.

  In fact, the Pan-Armenian Declaration published by Armenia in consultation with Diaspora on the eve of the 100th anniversary commemorations had that kind of language.

  It called on Turkey to “recognize and condemn the Armenian Genocide committed by the Ottoman Empire,” …and hoped that would “serve as a starting point for the historical reconciliation of the Armenian and Turkish peoples.”

  Horizon Weekly Newspaper

  In Chad, where many Sudanese refugees now live, you mention your surprise at the sight of children waving and laughing, as they enjoy a good game of soccer, when they see the UNHCR vehicle in which you were traveling. Was there a sense in you that survivors naturally manage to overpower the ghosts of the past and find pleasure in life’s enjoyments? Do some have it harder than others (ex: children vs adults)?
  I believe human beings are extremely resilient and extraordinarily capable of coping through the worst of traumas. And here I’m thinking both about our own grandparents’ and great-grandparents’ generations as well as survivors of more modern atrocities, such as the Darfuris I met in Chad.

  That being said, I do wish I’d spent some more time interviewing youth there, whether the ones playing soccer or those I briefly met at school later. It is hard to say, but it’s entirely possible some of them are born in the camps themselves, and are not yet entirely aware of how their parents had to escape from Darfur under horrible circumstances.

  Who knows? Maybe once they find out, some of that waving and laughing will be a rarer sight.

  One of the most recurring themes of your journey through genocide is the intersection of justice and vengeance. To this day, many Diasporan Armenians, whose ancestors were once forcefully alienated from their homeland, rejoice at the assassination of Armenian genocide mastermind Talaat Pasha in 1921 by SoghomonTehlirian. In contrast, some of the survivors you meet throughout your journey express a frank willingness to forgive, in exchange for a frank acknowledgement and an apology. How do you explain this disparity? Also, could you elaborate on this idea of vengeance as justice?
  You probably saw my own personal essay on forgiveness in the last part of the book.

  Again, I always hesitate to speak on behalf of other people than myself, but, for me, the disparity lies in the lack of recognition of the Armenian genocide, and, therefore, the lack of a specific apology addressing it for what it was.

  “Vengeance as justice,” is, of course, the idea of an eye for an eye. For some, it may satisfy an immediate urge, but it may also leave the desires of victims seeking retribution in the form of recognition, by, say, a legitimate judiciary, or even a guilty party, unsatisfied.

  To make that a little less abstract, I could refer you to the example of Saddam Hussein’s execution by hanging in 2006 following his war crimes trial. Critics of the trial included the United Nations, as well as N.G.O.s such as Human Rights Watch. Though Hussein was executed after being convicted of human-rights abuses in the deaths of 148 Shias in the city of Dujail in 1982, he was still at the time of his death on trial for the deaths of thousands of more people, Iraqi Kurds, in the 1980s. He was killed before his guilt was established in those latter massacres in the eyes of the law.

  Among the greatest fears of many Armenians living in the Diaspora is what is called “white genocide”, referring to the gradual abandonment of Armenian language and culture over time. However, on your visit to Turkey, you encounter several Armenians who’ve no knowledge of their ancestral language, and instead communicate exclusively in Turkish. What do you make of this contradiction between the Diasporan conception of Armenian identity, including a strict emphasis on language preservation, and the Turkish-Armenian conception of identity?
  It speaks to the different trajectories of Turkish-Armenians and Diaspora Armenians following the genocide. Though I’ll always think language preservation is important, that part of my trip opened my eyes to the idea that that could be easier said than done, depending on the circumstances of your birthplace and where you live.

  And I’d also point out that I met an equal if not superior number of Turkish-Armenians who do speak Armenian in their daily lives. Of course, their words are sometimes peppered with Turkish words or phrases, but hardly more so than how Canadian-Armenians might throw in English or French, or Lebanese-Armenians might briefly tap into their Arabic vocabulary.

  In the final stage of your journey, you visit Kharpert (Harput in Turkish), the home of your ancestors. As a Canadian-Armenian born in Lebanon with roots in modern Turkey, you write how often the question “where are you from” makes you stumble, unable to answer. Do you consider Kharpert your home? What do you make of the issue of territorial reparations?
  I’ll likely always stumble when I’m asked “where I’m from,” and the more cities I live in, the more difficult that will become to answer.

  I was on a business trip to London, U.K. last year and genuinely tripped up when the customs agent at Heathrow asked me where I’d arrived from. I almost said Montreal, where I’ve grown up, then thought of saying Calgary, where I’d been living just four months prior to that trip, and then finally realized the correct answer was Edmonton, which is where I had recently moved to (in my defence, it was a long, overnight journey from Edmonton to London).

  I’m not sure what the poor agent made of the mental gymnastics he must have seen embodied in my furrowed brow as I tried to figure that out.

  I felt a deep, emotional, visceral attachment to Kharpert when I was there, more powerful than any nostalgia, and yet not explicable by nostalgia, because I’d never been there before.

  It was not too dissimilar from what I feel when I’m in Armenia–but, again, I’d never been there prior to being 14, so where does that nostalgia come from? My personal interpretation is that I grew up in an Armenian household and spent my formative years attending Armenian school, and taking part in Armenian cultural, scouts and even some sports (yes, sports, though you’d never guess it by looking at me on a soccer field) activities.

  So, sure, I consider Kharpert my home–but not my only one, if that makes sense.

  As for territorial reparations, talk on that kind of issue seems unlikely to begin between Turkey and Armenia, without the former’s acceptance of the events of 1915 as genocide.

• Toronto Hye - http://torontohye.ca/raffy-boudjikanian-on-his-new-book-journey-through-genocide-stories-of-survivors-and-the-dead/

  QUOTED: "Having grown up in an Armenian household, I’ve been interested in the history of crimes against humanity from an early age. I learned about the Armenian Genocide and what happened to my own ancestors. Shortly after deciding I wanted to be a journalist for a living, I began planning a trip to different countries where there had been genocides, in an effort to better understand what victims and survivors go through first-hand."
  "Especially in the cases of Rwandans and Darfuris, I was looking to see how people cope with trauma, and how genocide affects them to this day. News stories about crimes against humanity tend to be, by the very nature of the medium, largely about the moment the atrocities occur. Rarely do they explore what mark the events leave."

  Raffy Boudjikanian On His New Book “Journey through Genocide: Stories of Survivors and the Dead”
  APRIL 6, 2018COMMUNITY | FEATURED

  Raffy Boudjikanian in Kharpert in May 2012

  Raffy Boudjikanian is a national reporter for CBC Edmonton who has travelled to meet genocide survivors in Chad (where Darfuri refuges are located), Kigali (Rwanda), and Kharpert (Turkey). His encounters and experiences are compiled in a book “Journey through Genocide, Stories of Survivors and the Dead”, due out in mid-April.

  TorontoHye editor Karin Saghdejian had an email interview with Boudjikanian about his visits and how they changed or added to his understanding of the crimes against humanity.

  Karin Saghdejian -Raffy, how did you come up with the idea of writing this book?

  Raffy Boudjikanian- Having grown up in an Armenian household, I’ve been interested in the history of crimes against humanity from an early age. I learned about the Armenian Genocide and what happened to my own ancestors. Shortly after deciding I wanted to be a journalist for a living, I began planning a trip to different countries where there had been genocides, in an effort to better understand what victims and survivors go through first-hand. My original intention was to produce some short radio documentaries from each segment of the trip, and then link them all together in one longer piece when I returned. But that latter project just proved too daunting. I’d come back to Canada from a five-week trip through Chad, Rwanda and Turkey with more than twenty hours of interviews. Luckily, I’d also kept a diary every day. So, I switched gears and tried my hand at writing a non-fiction book instead, and here we are.

  KS-You travel to meet both the survivors and the sites of the major genocides of our times. Besides the horrors of these crimes, as a journalist what are you looking for?

  RB- Especially in the cases of Rwandans and Darfuris, I was looking to see how people cope with trauma, and how genocide affects them to this day. News stories about crimes against humanity tend to be, by the very nature of the medium, largely about the moment the atrocities occur. Rarely do they explore what mark the events leave on survivors.

  I believed meeting them, seeing how they live–in Darfuris’ cases, as refugees in another country, after all they’ve already been through–would help me better understand what my own grandparents’ generation went through, and, hopefully, better explain to the world what modern survivors are going through right now.

  KS–You visit genocides that differ from each other in terms of execution, and aftermath. What similarities and parallels can you draw?

  RB-It struck me that in all three cases, the victims and survivors appear unable to move on unless there really is some sort of attempt at justice. In Chad, some of the Darfuris I met wanted to return home, but they could not, because Sudan’s president, Omar Al-Bashir, is the same person whom they hold responsible for what happened to them. He’s wanted by the International Criminal Court but has never accepted to face his charges.

  In Rwanda, justice is being meted out. Even as the victims and perpetrators live side by side in the spirit of reconciliation, the country is still looking for génocidaires to bring them to trial.

  And in Turkey, the Armenians I met still want to look for some sort of acknowledgement by the country that what happened to their ancestors was genocide. That is to say, nothing, of course, of the demands by Diaspora Armenians and the country of Armenia.

  KS– What impact do the post genocidal trials have both on the psyche of the victim and the perpetrator?

  RB- Of the three cases I examine in the book, I only really noticed the justice system at work in Rwanda. The country’s government preaches moving on and reconciliation, but also clearly believes these goals are tied to justice. It has a special prosecution office dedicated to hunting down escaped and exiled genocidaires and bringing them back to their home country to face criminal trials. Now, this may be a government initiative, but as far as I could tell, the idea resonated with the average Rwandan, too.

  I attended a genocide reconciliation workshop for high school students while I was in Kigali. One of the lecturers played a short audio clip, about forty seconds, then hit pause and asked listeners if they could identify the person on tape. “[Léon] Mugesera,” the room said in quasi-unanimity. Mugesera, back then, was a man wanted for genocide-related charges, specifically hate speech, in relation to a speech he’d made in 1992 comparing the Tutsi to cockroaches. Keep in mind this audience consisted of people who would not yet have been born when he said those words…and yet they all identified him.

  Furthermore, Mugesera actually appeared in a pre-trial court proceeding while I was in Kigali (he’d be found guilty years later). I attended the hearing, and discovered a packed courtroom audience, and a flurry of activity at the courthouse. Clearly, there was a lot of interest in the case.

  I can also tell you that in Rwanda’s case, the country has found it important to mete out justice itself, instead of relying on the international community. According to Jean Bosco Siboyintore, the head of the aforementioned special prosecution office, it was not until 2011 that the U.N. approved having one of its own war crimes defendants transferred to Rwanda’s jurisdiction, four years after the country abolished its death penalty.

  KS- What do victims of a genocide really want?

  RB- I believe they are looking for acknowledgement, both by the wider world and the perpetrator, of what happened to them.

  The refugee Darfuri student I told you about knew that telling me his story was not going to get him out of his situation. But he also understood that I was a journalist and would communicate what’s happened to him to an audience.

  Even in Rwanda, where reconciliation is the political order of the day, I met one survivor who was furious that she had confronted one of the men whom she was sure had helped kill her family, only for him to completely deny it. She told me she would have been ready to forgive him, if only he’d admitted to what he’d done.

  KS- Is reconciliation, in the real sense of the word, possible and what is the most important step to achieve it?

  RB- As a journalist, I’m not sure I can speak for different political actors with their own agendas, and I should not do that.

  But based on my observations during this trip, and a general understanding of history, I would say reconciliation appears to work out when there’s a sincere acknowledgement by the perpetrator of what they’ve done, and sincere attempts at apology or atonement.

  KS- You visit Istanbul and Kharpert, your ancestral home. How does a close-up view of the aftermath of a genocide change your perception of it?

  RB- I’m not sure my perception of the Armenian Genocide changed per se. Intellectually, I’ve known about how my great-grandfather and others were killed, and the rest of my family escaped, since I was a little boy.

  I was surprised at the level of fear I found among Armenians in Turkey, 97 years after 1915 (the trip was in 2012). I suppose it does add something to my understanding of the events when I heard from Armenians in Istanbul that they estimate there are only about 40 Armenians living in the entire region surrounding Kharpert now. I met one of those 40 Armenians, and very briefly interviewed them. I tried pushing them to speak more, and to not hide behind anonymity, and their answer to those requests both devastated me and made me see their point: “Hrant Dink spoke. What happened to him?”

  “Journey through Genocide: Stories of Survivors and the Dead” published by (Dundurn Press, April 2018: https://www.dundurn.com/books/Journey-through-Genocide)

QUOTED: "poignant."

Journey through Genocide: Stories of Survivors and the Dead
Dan Kaplan
Booklist. 114.15 (Apr. 1, 2018): p35+.
Copyright: COPYRIGHT 2018 American Library Association
http://www.ala.org/aboutala/offices/publishing/booklist/
Full Text:
Journey through Genocide: Stories of Survivors and the Dead. By Raffy Boudjikanian. Apr. 2018. 200p. Dundurn, paper, $19.99 (9781459740754). 364.15.

Canadian journalist Boudjikanian was born in Beirut, the result of his family's flight from Turkey during the Armenian genocide. Here he focuses on genocides in historic Armenia, Darfur, and Rwanda, telling his ancestors' refugee story to reveal and explain commonalities. He speaks about the atrocities of the Sudanese-backed militia with Darfuri survivors, children and adults, in Chadian refugee camps as well as aid workers. In Rwanda, in a poignant exchange, a young woman recounts her witnessing the decimation of her large family and her narrow escapes with her older brother. Boudjikanian also interviews the lead attorney for the government's genocide fugitive tracking unit, a role that the Rwandan solemnly administers. Finally, he travels to his ancestral homeland, eastern Turkey, to the town where his great-grandfather's blood was spilled. While the Turkish government refuses to acknowledge crimes of ethnic cleansing, Boudjikanian finds hopeful signs that attitudes are changing there. The final chapter notes that what appear to be genocides in Syria, South Sudan, and Myanmar continue to unfold.--Dan Kaplan

Source Citation (MLA 8th Edition)
Kaplan, Dan. "Journey through Genocide: Stories of Survivors and the Dead." Booklist, 1 Apr. 2018, p. 35+. General OneFile, http://link.galegroup.com/apps/doc/A534956795/ITOF?u=schlager&sid=ITOF&xid=43e9afee. Accessed 30 Sept. 2018.

Gale Document Number: GALE|A534956795

QUOTED: "Thought-provoking and candid, Journey through Genocide is ... dark yet necessary."

Journey through Genocide
Internet Bookwatch. (May 2018):
Copyright: COPYRIGHT 2018 Midwest Book Review
http://www.midwestbookreview.com
Full Text:
Journey through Genocide

Raffy Boudjikanian

The Dundurn Group

3 Church Street, Suite 500, Toronto, Ontario, Canada, M5E 1M2

9781459740754 $19.99 pbk / $9.99 Kindle amazon.com

Author Raffy Boudjikanian examines the depths of man's inhumanity to man in Journey through Genocide: Stories of Survivors and the Dead, a nonfiction accounting drawn from travels to and interviews with communities that have suffered mass extermination. In Chad, there are families who fled the massacres in the Darfur region of Sudan; in Rwanda, the road to justice and reconciliation is long and difficult; and in Turkey, the Armenian Genocide of 1915--a mass slaughter that claimed the author's own ancestors--continues to inspire fear over a century later. Thought-provoking and candid, Journey through Genocide is a dark yet necessary contribution to public and college library World History and Holocaust Studies collections. Highly recommended.

Source Citation (MLA 8th Edition)
"Journey through Genocide." Internet Bookwatch, May 2018. General OneFile, http://link.galegroup.com/apps/doc/A543465194/ITOF?u=schlager&sid=ITOF&xid=f447eac0. Accessed 30 Sept. 2018.

Gale Document Number: GALE|A543465194