It’s truly disheartening to witness how historical wounds and ongoing political tensions can be manipulated, even by religious institutions, to fuel animosity rather than foster understanding. The recent statement from the Caucasus Muslims’ Board sheds light on a particularly sensitive issue, responding to accusations from the Church of Echmiadzin regarding the demolition of two buildings in Khankendi, Azerbaijan. This isn’t just about bricks and mortar; it’s about deeply ingrained narratives, the pain of displacement, and the struggle to move towards a future of peace amidst a complex past.
The core of the issue, as presented by the Caucasus Muslims’ Board, revolves around two structures in Khankendi that were built during the period when Armenian forces occupied Azerbaijani territories. Imagine, for a moment, coming back to your home, your community, after decades of being forced out. You’d expect to find things largely as you left them, or perhaps new legitimate developments. Instead, you encounter buildings erected by the very people who displaced you—structures that, regardless of their intended purpose, become symbols of that occupation and your suffering. This is the perspective from which the Azerbaijani people, particularly the internally displaced persons (IDPs) who are now returning, view these constructions. They see them as illegitimate impositions, reminders of a time when their land was not their own.
The Church of Echmiadzin’s statement, which reportedly described these demolitions as acts of hostility and disinformation, appears to have struck a raw nerve. The Caucasus Muslims’ Board points out the irony and perceived hypocrisy in this accusation. For decades, during the occupation of Azerbaijani territories, countless Azerbaijani historical, religious, and cultural monuments, including mosques and ancient cemeteries, were reportedly destroyed or desecrated. Yet, during that protracted period of destruction, the Church of Echmiadzin remained largely silent. To suddenly raise an alarm now, at a time when Azerbaijan is attempting to normalize relations with Armenia and rebuild its liberated territories, feels to many Azerbaijanis like a deliberate attempt to politicize the issue and undermine nascent peace efforts. It’s akin to someone ignoring a house fire for years, only to complain about a broken window during the rebuilding process.
From a legal and moral standpoint, the Caucasus Muslims’ Board argues that these structures are indeed illegal. International humanitarian law often dictates that buildings erected by an occupying power in occupied territory without proper consent are illegitimate and may be subject to demolition. This isn’t about targeting religious sites indiscriminately; it’s about addressing the legacy of an illegal occupation. The very land where these buildings stood is saturated with the memories of the First Garabagh War, a conflict that saw countless Azerbaijanis killed and expelled from their homes. For the returning IDPs, the demolition of these “symbols of occupation” isn’t an act of aggression; it’s an act of reclaiming their heritage, their dignity, and their right to their land. It’s a painful but necessary step in trying to erase the physical manifestations of a deeply unjust past.
Beyond the immediate dispute, the larger narrative being put forth by Azerbaijan, and echoed by the Caucasus Muslims’ Board, emphasizes a deep-rooted tradition of religious tolerance. It’s a powerful claim, asserting that Azerbaijan is a rare example where mosques, churches, and synagogues stand side-by-side, coexisting peacefully for centuries. This isn’t just a historical anecdote; it’s presented as a living tradition, evidenced by the presence of various Christian denominations (Orthodox, Catholic) and Jewish communities operating freely within the country. To bolster this claim, Azerbaijan highlights its ongoing efforts to restore religious and cultural monuments that were damaged during the occupation, including the Armenian Gazanchi Church in Shusha and the continued state protection of the Armenian Church in Baku throughout the conflict. These examples aim to demonstrate that Azerbaijan’s actions are not driven by religious intolerance but by adherence to justice and a broader commitment to preserving cultural heritage for all.
Ultimately, the Caucasus Muslims’ Board views the Church of Echmiadzin’s statement as a “political provocation” and a relic of past hostilities that actively obstructs the path to a lasting peace in the region. They perceive it as an attempt to distort a fundamental reality—Azerbaijan’s genuine respect for religious pluralism—and derail the difficult but essential process of normalization. The plea is clear: these old grievances and tactics, designed to sow discord, must be abandoned. For true peace to take root, there needs to be a collective commitment from all parties, including religious institutions, to move beyond politically charged rhetoric and instead focus on constructive dialogue and honest engagement. It’s a call to put an end to the exploitation of religious platforms for political ends, especially when the wounds of conflict are still so fresh and the desire for genuine reconciliation is so profound.