Armenia Government

Armenia's president named the brother of the late Prime Minister Vazgen Sarkisyan, killed by gunmen in a raid on parliament last week, to succeed him as premier of the former Soviet republic. A spokesman said President Robert Kocharyan, who had vowed to quickly rebuild the country's shattered leadership, had appointed little-known Aram Sarkisyan, 38, as premier.

Masis Kocharian is a typical resident of this town, which is to say that he is tired, poor and yearning to be gone. He is so desperate to get away--like half of the town before him--that given the chance he will offer you his two-room apartment in a workers dormitory and all the furnishings. All he asks for in return is bus fare to Russia and a few dollars to get settled there--maybe $250 at most. "And I promise," he adds, "you will never see me again."

The earthquake struck first, destroying her home. Then came the Soviet collapse, independence, mass unemployment and hunger. Contemplating the ruins of her adult life, Amalya Digaryan blames it all on the president who ran Armenia from 1991 until last month. "Look!" the 30-year-old cries with despairing anger.

Armenia's president named the brother of the late Prime Minister Vazgen Sarkisyan, killed by gunmen in a raid on parliament last week, to succeed him as premier of the former Soviet republic. A spokesman said President Robert Kocharyan, who had vowed to quickly rebuild the country's shattered leadership, had appointed little-known Aram Sarkisyan, 38, as premier.

To be born and raised in these United States is to be told that, in this land of opportunity, you can grow up to be President. Getting straight A's and eating your broccoli is thought to help. To be born Armenian and raised in America is to be steeped in another dream. "Many of us are hoping one day to have a free country again," said teacher Linda Bulbulian, whose classroom at Ramona Elementary School in Hollywood is packed with Armenian immigrant children.

Since Prime Minister Robert Kocharyan took power last week as acting president of Armenia, the small detail of his citizenship has hardly raised an eyebrow. In the streets and markets here in the capital, members of the public are calm--even optimistic--about the prospect of change after more than seven years of economic hardship under former President Levon A. Ter-Petrosyan.

Ever since their past was swallowed up by war in 1993, the members of Azerbaijan's Karabakh soccer team have lived the shiftless lives of refugees, carrying on with their sport even though they have not set eyes on their homeland of Nagorno-Karabakh since its Armenian majority drove the men out of the disputed enclave in a vicious ethnic war. The dispossessed soccer stars slowly reassembled in this filthy industrial town 300 miles east of the sparkling, but now deadly, hills of their birth.

The same Armenian nationalists who spent two years fighting the government are now trying to govern themselves and discovering how complicated life at the top can be. The Karabakh Committee, Armenia's most famous dissidents, came to power in parliamentary elections last spring and are now being appointed ministers, deputy ministers and committee chairmen in the republic's first non-Communist government since 1922.

When their daughter Anush was born in Soviet Armenia 26 years ago, factory director Karen Nadzharyan and his schoolteacher wife, Nata, expected a settled future for the beautiful, big-eyed baby: a good school career, music training, university, a family and a professional job--all in her hometown. But then their world turned upside down. Armenia is now independent, although it has suffered war and political convulsions of every sort.

The fighting is over, and the women of the carpet factory have returned to their looms. Hunched over the bright threads with combs, scissors and shuttles, they are once again weaving the traditional rugs of the Caucasus Mountains. Still, half the looms in the cold hall stand idle, and many of the low stools drawn up to them are empty. Ethnic Armenians are still here, grieving for the thousands killed in a decade of ethnic conflict.

When their daughter Anush was born in Soviet Armenia 26 years ago, factory director Karen Nadzharyan and his schoolteacher wife, Nata, expected a settled future for the beautiful, big-eyed baby: a good school career, music training, university, a family and a professional job--all in her hometown. But then their world turned upside down. Armenia is now independent, although it has suffered war and political convulsions of every sort.

Armenians went to the polls Monday to choose a new president, uneasy and suspicious after international monitors made allegations of vote-rigging during a first round of balloting two weeks ago. Both campaigns complained of minor violations by their opponents, but voting was quiet. Agvan Vardanyan, spokesman for the front-running Robert Kocharyan, dismissed allegations by the rival camp as "an attempt to save face in the event of failure."

The fighting is over, and the women of the carpet factory have returned to their looms. Hunched over the bright threads with combs, scissors and shuttles, they are once again weaving the traditional rugs of the Caucasus Mountains. Still, half the looms in the cold hall stand idle, and many of the low stools drawn up to them are empty. Ethnic Armenians are still here, grieving for the thousands killed in a decade of ethnic conflict.

The earthquake struck first, destroying her home. Then came the Soviet collapse, independence, mass unemployment and hunger. Contemplating the ruins of her adult life, Amalya Digaryan blames it all on the president who ran Armenia from 1991 until last month. "Look!" the 30-year-old cries with despairing anger.

Ever since their past was swallowed up by war in 1993, the members of Azerbaijan's Karabakh soccer team have lived the shiftless lives of refugees, carrying on with their sport even though they have not set eyes on their homeland of Nagorno-Karabakh since its Armenian majority drove the men out of the disputed enclave in a vicious ethnic war. The dispossessed soccer stars slowly reassembled in this filthy industrial town 300 miles east of the sparkling, but now deadly, hills of their birth.

Since Prime Minister Robert Kocharyan took power last week as acting president of Armenia, the small detail of his citizenship has hardly raised an eyebrow. In the streets and markets here in the capital, members of the public are calm--even optimistic--about the prospect of change after more than seven years of economic hardship under former President Levon A. Ter-Petrosyan.

Armenian officials on Sunday supported a California congresswoman's call for U.N. peacekeeping forces in the disputed enclave of Nagorno-Karabakh, where ethnic fighters have seized 25 hostages. The proposal came from visiting Rep. Barbara Boxer (D-Greenbrae). "I'm afraid if we do nothing, we could have the makings of something with very serious consequences," she said. Armenian Prime Minister Vazgen Manukyan called the idea "brilliant."

President Zviad Gamsakhurdia fled into the Caucasus Mountains from his underground retreat Monday, desperately seeking a haven for himself and his family. But the leaders of neighboring Azerbaijan and Armenia refused to grant him immediate asylum, officials here said. "Power is now in our hands," said Dzhaba Ioseliani, a leader of Georgia's self-proclaimed Military Council, which masterminded the attack that ousted the president and has now declared itself the supreme authority in the land.

The government deployed tanks in the streets of this capital and arrested opposition leaders Thursday after a night of rioting that left two dead and dozens injured. The security crackdown followed a melee spurred by angry opposition supporters who stormed parliament Wednesday, accusing President Levon A. Ter-Petrosyan of rigging Sunday's election to claim a second term in office.

Voters braved sweltering heat Wednesday to cast ballots in Armenia's first parliamentary elections since the 1991 Soviet collapse and in a referendum on a constitution that would strengthen the presidency. The Republic bloc, which backs President Levon A. Ter-Petrosyan, was competing against several opposition parties that blame the government for Armenia's slumping economy.