Zori Balayan died. As soon as this news spread, a strange, contradictory picture emerged on social media. Some mourned, some cursed him, while others chose to remain silent. But even those who remained silent understand that this is not the death of an ordinary person. This is the end of an ideology.
Balayan cannot be considered a normal person. He was a carrier of an idea built on enmity. This idea kept the region in conflict for years. It pitted peoples against each other.
His identity cannot be approached simply. He grew up in the Soviet system and later became one of the most active propagandists of the radical nationalist line. He presented himself as a scholar. However, his writings were far from scientific truths; rather, they served ideological purposes.
He did not research history; he altered it. He “created” his own purpose in history. Myths predominated in his texts. These myths poisoned minds. At the heart of these myths lay the delusion of “Greater Armenia.” “Greater Armenia” was a claim to the lands of other peoples, enmity passed down to future generations, a toxic ideology that hindered the region's development.
Although Balayan was not the sole author of this idea, he was one of its influential carriers. His words taught people conflict.
One of the most tragic consequences of this ideology was the Khojaly genocide. Khojaly is the name of a crime committed against humanity. And, of course, this was the result of an ideology of hatred cultivated over many years.
Balayan not only failed to show a humane stance against this genocide; on the contrary, he was inspired by it, presenting bloodshed and calamity as Armenian happiness. This clearly revealed his identity.
History sometimes delays, this is possible, but one day it provides its answer.
The year 2020 arrived. The Azerbaijani people rose up for territorial integrity. Truth triumphed, myths collapsed.
Balayan witnessed how the delusion he had built for years collapsed, the liberation of Shusha, the reality of Lachin, Kalbajar, and Khankendi. He watched from afar as witnesses of the Khojaly genocide returned to their native homes. Every person returning to Khojaly was the harshest response to Balayan's ideology.
It was precisely for this reason that my wishes regarding Zori Balayan changed. If I had previously wished for him to be executed for the crimes he committed, after the 44-day Victory War, I no longer wanted Balayan to die.
I wish he had lived much longer. I wish he had seen the landscape of Karabakh every day. I wish he had watched the joy of people returning to Khojaly every day. I wish he had witnessed every day how the ideology he built destroyed Armenians.
Unfortunately, death saved Balayan. He was spared from facing the truth he had created for a long time.
In Azerbaijan, the name Balayan is remembered with pain. Because the ideology he spread caused bloodshed in these lands. Refugees, displaced persons, ruined cities, lost lives – this ideology stands behind them.
The bitterest truth for Armenians, however, is that this ideology hindered Armenia's development, isolated it, and dragged it from war to war. As a result, Armenia was forced to sign a capitulation.
I wish Balayan had not died.
I wish he had looked at Khankendi every day.
I wish he had looked at Lachin, Kalbajar, Shusha and seen the truth every day.
I wish he had heard the footsteps of people returning to Khojaly every day.
I wish Balayan had lived with these truths and died a thousand times in one day.
And not escaped by dying once.
