Thoughts Toward an Evolving Armenian National Project · Paper #1

 

BY RAFFY ARDHALDJIAN

What does it mean for a people without a state to act politically ? For Armenians, this is not an abstract question; it is a lived reality. For over a century, the Armenian Diaspora has existed outside the bounds of Westphalian sovereignty, yet has retained a distinct political presence: lobbying governments, sustaining cultural life, and asserting political identity in global arenas.

This paper, the first in a series exploring what is and should be aspects of the Armenian National Project, asks what it means to be a political diaspora. Not merely an ethno-cultural network or a fundraising base, but a dispersed polity with agency, purpose, and a claim on the future. Can Armenians reimagine sovereignty and political belonging across borders? And can the diaspora move from maintaining community maintenance to exercising forms of soft power?

By “diaspora,” I refer to the organized Armenian communities that have functioned for nearly more than a century after the genocide, creating and maintaining enduring institutions—churches, schools, political parties, charities, and media— and not to the broader population of millions of dispersed ethnic Armenians living outside Armenia.These institutions, as Dr. Hratch Tchilingirian notes, form the traditional backbone of the diaspora, enabling continuity, representation, and a degree of self-governance. It is this institutionalized diaspora that this essay seeks to address.

Armenians maintain a sovereign polity within the internationally recognized borders of the Republic of Armenia. Simultaneously, since the 1923 Treaty of Lausanne, which barred repatriation for Genocide survivors and formalized the modern diaspora, Armenians have maintained a non-sovereign polity preserving communal life beyond national borders. The Armenian diaspora exercises a form of non-Westphalian sovereignty—defined not by territorial control, but by shared identity, enduring institutions, and the capacity to act collectively across borders. In this sense, it also exercises a form of “stateless power” (a term coined by Khachig Tölölyan), working to redefine Armenian agency in a globalized world and challenging traditional notions of sovereignty.

The Armenian quest for sovereignty has rarely been confined to territorial control or political autonomy alone. It has functioned, across centuries, as a civilizational project—understood not as a claim to cultural superiority or fixed achievements, but as a long-term effort to sustain identity and dignity,  and institutional continuity across generations and geographies.

From the fall of the Armenian Kingdom of Cilicia in 1375 until the rise of the modern national liberation movement in the 19th century, Armenians endured nearly five centuries without a state. Yet they preserved a functioning civilizational order, as they had done earlier, for example after the end of the Arshakuni dynasty in 428 CE and before the rise of the Bagratuni kingdom in 885 CE. The Armenian Apostolic Church, merchant networks, and monastic academies sustained a dispersed but coherent identity—anchored in language, religious tradition, legal custom, and education.

While other nations have also maintained identity in exile, the Armenian case stands out for the continuity of its institutional life, its strong link between faith and nationhood, and the centrality of a sacralized homeland in both memory and purpose. In this period, sovereignty was not expressed through borders or armies, but through the transmission of meaning, values, and memory across empires and generations. This form of non-territorial sovereignty shaped the modern Armenian political imagination: independence would later be pursued not merely to control land, but to restore the dignity of a people who had already shown they could endure without it.

The contemporary Armenian condition is complex. Beyond Armenia’s borders lies a vast, globally dispersed population engaged in non-Westphalian forms of sovereignty—sustaining cultural, political, and philanthropic life outside formal state structures. This is what I call civilizational continuity: the ongoing transmission of identity, values, and agency across time and space, even in the absence of statehood. It is not a claim of uninterrupted historical continuity, but of a deeper, adaptive coherence that has endured despite rupture.

Civilizational continuity goes beyond the preservation of language, ritual, and tradition. It carries forward political imagination, the lived experience of enduring institutions, and a sense of broad alignment across generations while adapting to a changing world. Levon Zekiyan argues that the Armenian journey into modernity is predicated on a deliberate synthesis of tradition and innovation (“The Armenian Way to Modernity,” 1997)—a framing that closely aligns with this understanding. Other stateless or semi-stateless peoples, such as the Assyrians, Syriacs, and Yazidis, have preserved religious and cultural identity across time.

Yet the Armenian experience is distinct, marked by the persistence of transnational institutional structures, a strong tradition of political thought. This includes Mkhitar Gosh’s 12th-century Datastanagirk’, Shahamir Shahamirian’s republican writings in 18th-century Madras, and the civic roles played by the Armenian Church and monastic academies. These were part of a long-standing aspiration to restore sovereignty.

This culminated in the Zartonk (enlightenment), a national liberation movement, and the founding of a republic in 1918 after centuries of statelessness. Unlike cultural continuity, which can exist in symbolic or fragmented forms, civilizational continuity implies coherence, adaptability, and the sustained capacity to act with purpose. It is not rooted in nostalgia or grandiosity, but in the effort to preserve a people’s ability to act as an agent of its own future—even in conditions of dispersion and dispossession born of genocide.

Centuries of statelessness, historical trauma, and the absence of a sustained polity have deeply shaped Armenian political thought. These experiences have often blurred the lines between nation, state, and sovereignty, making it difficult to reconcile the moral identity of the Armenian nation with the geopolitical realities of modern statehood. This tension continues to generate ambiguity about what it means to be a nation, a state, or both—especially when trying to balance the ethical aspirations of a dispersed people with the practical constraints of a small, embattled republic.

In this context, the idea of an Armenian National Project offers a useful framework—not as a fixed doctrine, but as a lens for rethinking sovereignty, identity, and political purpose. The Armenian National Project also aligns with what Benedict Anderson famously called an imagined community: a nation not solely defined by shared territory or institutions, but by a sense of collective identity sustained across time and space through language, memory, and representation. For much of their modern history, Armenians have functioned as such a community—linked by liturgy, schools, publications, and ritual memory, even in the absence of a state.

Scholar Khachig Tölölyan—founding editor of “Diaspora” and a leading theorist of Armenian transnationalism—reminds us that Armenians often confuse administrative self-governance, rooted in the Ottoman millet system, with true political agency. This legacy persists today: while we competently manage community institutions, we frequently shy away from developing strategies of power or engaging in sustained, transnational political thought. To think politically is to engage with the mechanics of power. It interrogates domination and agency, the interplay of order and resistance, and the contested visions of how we live together. At its essence, it is the critical negotiation between what is and what ought to be. As Michel Foucault noted, power is not held but exercised. It works through relationships, institutions, and ideas, shaping what people can do or become. For the Armenian diaspora, this kind of power is exercised through advocacy, organized networks, and the capacity to mobilize across borders and generations.

To think politically as an Armenian is to interrogate how power functions—not only within Armenian state structures but also across diasporas, contested histories, and stateless existence. Armenian political thought attempts to give answers to concepts of governance, power, and identity within their specific cultural and historical experiences. It is shaped by external imperial forces, internal reinvention and tendencies towards freedom, and the enduring imperative of survival.

So what does it mean, concretely, for the diaspora to think and act politically today? I propose core goals that outline a foundational framework for today’s Armenian political Diaspora—beyond the necessary but no longer sufficient activities of internal administration and cultural maintenance:

• Acquiring and projecting stateless (soft) power through advocacy and influence;
• Sustaining Armenian civilizational continuity across generations;
• Building a reciprocal partnership with the Armenian state, grounded in shared purpose and mutual autonomy;
• Safeguarding global Armenian interests—protecting communities, rights, and heritage worldwide.
• Advancing dual citizenship with Armenia to empower diasporans as stakeholders, deepen cultural ties, foster long-term engagement, and enable meaningful participation.

These goals outline a framework, but each will require further exploration and practical elaboration in future discussions.

To be clear, this paper does not argue for a singular or homogenized political identity. The Armenian diaspora is, and should remain, globally diverse. It has been shaped by different histories, geographies, and political conditions. The goal is not to centralize power but to foster a shared strategic direction, grounded in a minimum consensus around core objectives that can align diverse efforts. Political agency need not be hegemonic; it can be decentralized, adaptive, and networked. Nor should this agenda be set by a narrow circle of elites from legacy institutions alone. It must grow through open dialogue, generational renewal, and collaboration within and across diasporic communities.

Attempting to define the political goals of the Armenian Diaspora organism—as Dr. Razmig Shirinian frames it in his article—is essential for moving beyond ad hoc activism and reactive mobilization. Without a shared framework, diaspora political efforts risk fragmentation, contradiction, or being reduced to cultural nostalgia. These goals need to reflect the present moment. The political priorities of the diaspora in 2025 differ markedly from those of the 1920s—when survival and exile defined the agenda—or of the 1970s and ’80s, when genocide recognition dominated—or the 1990s, when support for Karabakh and Armenia’s newly won independence became central. Today’s realities demand updated, forward-looking strategies. Clear political aims enable strategic coherence, institutional continuity, and a more effective partnership with the Armenian state and global actors. In an era of geopolitical volatility and civilizational contestation, the diaspora’s power lies not just in numbers or sentiment, but in its ability to act with purpose—across generations and borders.

Armenia’s turbulent history and geography have unfortunately destined more than half the nation to live outside its historic highlands. Born from the ashes of genocide, the Armenian Diaspora is a testament to survival and reinvention. But without political agency—without the capacity to project soft power—this stateless half of the nation risks dissolving into nostalgia, rather than continuing to shape Armenian civilization and safeguard Armenian interests.

In the next paper, I will turn to the concept of the historic Armenian homeland—not merely as a place on the map, but as the civilizational heartland of the Armenian people—and explore what it might mean for both the nation-state and a dispersed nation in the 21st century.

Raffy Ardhaldjian is a Fletcher School graduate and advisor to tech companies, public institutions, and NGOs. In his spare time, he writes about strategic topics spanning Armenia and the Armenian diaspora.