English

Septembra letos sva z Markusom dva tedna preživela v Armeniji. Začela sva s čudovitimi dvanajstimi dnevi sredi starih samostanov in cerkva, visokih gora, čudovite pokrajine in mnogih izrednih srečanj. Nakar sva imela precej pretresljiv zaključek najinega bivanja. Eno od najlepših srečanj je bilo 10. septembra, ko sva se precej naivno odpravila v gore iz mesta Jermuk. V sovjetskih časih je bilo to znano letoviško mesto s svojim lastnim letališčem. Slednje stoji tam stoji le še kot razvalina, medtem ko se dotok dopustnikov nadaljuje. Ko sva se torej iz mesta odpravila proti hribom, sva se na višini približno 2.500 metrov, že precej blizu meje z Azerbajdžanom, nenadoma znašla pred vojaškim objektom: videla sva v zemljo zakopane havbice, pokrite z maskirnimi mrežami. Usmerjene so bile proti meji. Na koncu tega nenavadnega prizora je bil majhen vojaški tabor z ducat vojaki, ki sprva niso bili preveč zadovoljni, da se jim približujejo neznanci. Dobila sva občutek, da Armenci planinarjenja in pohodništva ne poznajo, saj fantje preprosto niso mogli razumeti, kaj počneva pri njih. Po nekaj vprašanjih v nerodni angleščini se je led počasi prelomil. Razumeli so, da nisva sovražnika, in v nekem trenutku so naju vprašali, če sva za kavo. Pri njih se takšnega vabila ne odkloni, v dani situaciji pa še toliko manj. Povabili so naju v njihov vojaški šotor, kjer se je obljubljena kava spremenila v pravi obrok: midva sva na mizo položila svojo malico, oni pa so prinesli kruh, sir, klobaso in sadje ter si vse skupaj razdelili. V nekem trenutku so dodali vinjak, ki ga je eden od mladeničev dobil od svojega dedka. Precej na začetku tega nenadejanega druženja sva jim povedala, da sva duhovnika, nakar so večkrat vprašali: Vidva duhovnika? Kot da so se hoteli prepričati, da so pravilno razumeli. In ko so, so sredi blaženega veselja, polnem ponosa, pokazali svoje okrog vratu viseče križe, jih poljubili, ter nama prinesli molitvenik svetega Gregorija. Zdel se je kot milostni trenutek, v katerem so lahko iz vsega srca izpovedali svojo vero v Jezusa. Povedali so nama tudi, kaj si obetajo od življenja po služenju vojaškega roka … spomnim se fanta na robu mize, ki je hotel narediti sprejemne izpite za študij arhitekture, drug je želel postati prevajalec iz angleščine … in takoj naprej.

Vsi fantje brez izjeme so bili 20-letni naborniki, njihovega poveljnika pa tisti dan ni bilo z njimi. To je bil verjetno tudi razlog, zakaj sva lahko tako sproščeno preživela ta čas z njimi za mizo. Ko smo se začenjali poslavljati, so naju vprašali, če imava za njih darilo. Oni so nama hoteli ponuditi svoje vojaške kape. Tisti dan je Markus nosil kapo z napisom Totus tuus, kar je bilo geslo papeža Janeza Pavla II., Ves tvoj. Eden od mladeničev ga je vprašal, ali lahko to pokrivalo dobi v dar. Ta izmenjava je bilo še zadnje dejanje pred slovesom. Za sklep smo zmolili Očenaš, nakar sva se z Markusom vrnila v dolino. Bila sva kot učenca na poti v Emavs: kar nisva mogla nehala izražati svojega navdušenja nad srečanjem. V najinih srcih je bil neke vrste ogenj. Skladno z željo mladih fantov v tistem času nisva posnela nobene fotografije.

V ponedeljek, 12. septembra, sva bila na gori Murad, ki je visoka nekaj več kot 3200 metrov in se nahaja na nasprotni strani omenjene vojaške postojanke, a še vedno povsem zraven meje. Vzpon je bil lahek, saj je vodil po prostranem terenu, prepredenim s številnimi planinami. Tako sva v nekem trenutku prečkala planino, na kateri naju je opazil starejši gospod. Podobno kot mladi naborniki izpred dveh dni je gospod vztrajal na tem, da sva njegova gosta. Ponovila se je zgodba z obedom in kavo. V nekem trenutku je goro precej nizko in hrupno preletel vojaški avion. Pastirji so nemudoma vedela za kaj gre: azerbajdžanska vojska. Omenjeni gospod je rekel, da zadnje čase niso ravno prijazni, a da v osnovi ni težav. Kakorkoli, vzpon na Murad je bil precej dolg, zato sva se dokaj hitro odpravila spat.

Nekaj minut čez polnoč je bilo spanja in mirnih počitnic konec: prebudil naju je oglušujoč hrup dveh silovitih detonacij zraven najine počitniške hiše in številni streli na gorskem grebenu nad mestom. Skočila sva vsak iz svoje sobe in si nemudoma rekla: Morava od tu! Hitro je bilo namreč jasno, da sta bili obstreljevani vojašnica in vojaški tabor, ki sta v neposredni bližini najinega počitniškega stanovanja.

Brez, da bi rekla karkoli, sva vendar vedela, da sva se znašla sredi fronte dveh sovražnih vojsk in da torej sploh ni samoumevno, da bova ostala pri življenju. Nisva imela druge možnosti, kot da greva sredi pokanja in občasnih detonacij iz hiše proti parkirišču. V pritličnem stanovanju hiše sta se večer pred tem naselila Pavel in Tanja, ruski par, ki je podobno kot midva prihitel na parkirišče. Prosila sta naju, če ju lahko vzamemo s seboj; bila sta namreč brez avta. Tako smo se le nekaj minut po začetku obstreljevanja odločili za beg. Ker je medtem zmanjkalo elektrike, smo v temi precej panično poskušali vzeti najpomembnejše stvari. Jasno je bilo, da vseh svojih stvari ne bomo mogli vzeti s seboj, saj štiri osebe in njihova prtljaga ne bi prišle v najin majhen najet avto. V najinem stanovanju sva imela tudi kapelo s posvečeno hostijo, ki sva jo hranila v piksidi in jo ob begu pospravila v žep srajce.

In tako smo ob 00.15 na vrat na nos zapustili počitniško hišo in se odpeljali v noč, glasni udarci detonacij pa so bili vsepovsod okoli nas. Na izsušenih travnikih na pobočjih gora je zaradi obstreljevanja gorelo. Bilo je strašljivo, bili smo negotovi, ali je prav, da se odpravimo v ta pekel. Ko smo se peljali skozi Jermuk, mimo stanovanjskih sosesk, je hitro postalo jasno, da nismo bili edini, ki smo želeli oditi: po cesti iz visoko ležečega mesta se je v dolino spuščal en avto za drugim. To je bil pravi eksodus. Vsi so želeli oditi. Vozili smo se nekaj več kot eno uro in v hotelu v mestu Vaik našli dve sobi za ruski par in nas. Razmišljali smo celo, da bi se naslednji dan vrnili po stvari, ki smo jih pustili za seboj. 13. septembra zjutraj nam je lastnik hotela povedal, da to ni mogoče, saj je bilo celotno mesto zaprto in evakuirano, oborožen spopad pa da se nadaljuje. Tako sva se skupaj s Pavlom in Tanjo odpeljali v Erevan in tam počakala na povratni let 15. septembra.

Počasi so nas začele dosegati novice. Jasno je bilo, da se tu napoveduje nova faza spora med Armenijo in Azerbajdžanom. Pri tem ni šlo za dolgo sporno regijo Gorski Karabah, temveč za napad Azerbajdžana na Armenijo. Izvedeli smo, da je prav tiste gorske vrhove, kjer smo se pred dvema dnevoma srečali z mladimi vojaki, zasedel Azerbajdžan. Skupaj je bilo ubitih približno 200 armenskih vojakov. Nisva mogla pozabiti obrazov mladih fantov, s katerimi sva jedla, se smejala in molila. Misliva si, da so umrli v napadih, ker so bili dobesedno v prvi vrsti, na mestu, ki je bila najlažja tarča napada.

Ko sva prispela v Erevan, sva bila presenečena, da v prestolnici ni bilo tako rekoč nobenih znakov vojne. Restavracije, kavarne in veleblagovnice so bile odprte, veliko ljudi je bilo na ulicah. Za nas štiri, ki smo nekaj ur prej morali bežati iz Jermuka, je bilo to presenetljivo in skoraj odbijajoče. Z Markusom sva hodila po ulicah v središču Erevana, še vedno z Najsvetejšim zakramentom v žepu srajce. Imela sva vtis, da lahko to deželo blagoslavljava z Jezusom. 13. septembra zvečer sva prispela v hotel blizu letališča in tam obhajala sveto mašo. Evangelij tega dne je bil Lk 7,11-17, ki poroča o smrti edinega sina vdove iz Naina. Žena žaluje in joka za svojim sinom, kar vzbudi Jezusovo sočutje. Imela sva občutek, da se okoli naju dogaja prav to: da naju obdajajo številne matere, ki žalujejo in jokajo za svojimi padlimi sinovi. Mladi naborniki, s katerim sva si delila kruh, kavo in vinjak, so vojno med Armenijo in Azerbajdžanom nenadoma naredili tako konkretno. Za naju to ni bila več vojna nekje na koncu sveta, ampak je dobila zelo resnične obraze, ki jih verjetno ne bova nikoli pozabila.

V dneh, ki so sledili, sva čutila jezo in ogorčenje zaradi poročanja in odziva naših držav na ta konflikt … na to vojno. Evropska unija, pa tudi Nemčija in Slovenija, so pozivale k zmernosti in iskanju miru. Vendar v izjavah ni bilo jasno navedeno, kaj se je v resnici zgodilo: da je ena država napadla ozemlje druge države, da je pri tem ubijala mejne stražarje, premaknila mejo in ogrozila civiliste. Azerbajdžan v tem sporu ni bil označen za agresorja. Ker ima Rusija, tradicionalna zaščitnica Armenije, trenutno druge skrbi in za Armenijo ne stori ničesar, stoji ta majhna država pred pred vprašanjem preživetja.

Ursula von der Leyen je bila 18. julija 2022 na obisku pri azerbajdžanskemu predsedniku Ilhamu Alijevu ter podpisala sporazum o občutnem povečanju dobave plina: iz 8 na 20 milijard kubičnih metrov letno. Je torej naključje, da nisva opazila jasne obsodbe azerbajdžanskega napada na Armenijo? Je morda njihov plin pomembnejši od resnice? Ali morda Evropska unija ne želi pretiranega zapleta z Azerbajdžanom? Po pravici obsojamo in bojkotiramo diktatorja Putina, hkrati pa diktatorju Ilhamu Alijevu dovolimo, da počne, kar hoče. Njegov ultimativni cilj je bržčas precej jasen: združitev matične države z Nahičevanom. Očitno to namero zaenkrat toleriramo, vključno z metodo vojne, ki jo ta cilj predvideva.

Nič ne ustavi naše želje po zadostni količini poceni plina pri nas doma.

Ko v molitvah nosim armensko ljudstvo, ne drugega kot izrekati Marijino hvalnico, ki ni nekakšna pobožna želja, temveč priča božjega načrta: Mogočne je vrgel s prestolov in povišal je nizke, lačne je napolnil z dobrotami in bogate je odpustil prazne. Zavzel se je za svojega služabnika Izraela in se spomnil usmiljenja, kakor je govoril našim očetom.

V slovenskih medijih sem po vrnitvi domov glede vojne zasledil tri članke: tega 13. septembra, tega dan zatem ter tega še en dan kasneje. Drugi edini pravilno pravi, da je Azerbajdžan obstreljeval zdraviliško mesto Jermuk, slednji pa vztraja na napačni informaciji, da gre za konflikt glede Gorskega Karabaha. Uredništvu spletnega portala nacionalne televizije sem napisal informativni email o najini izkušnji v zdraviliškem mestu Jermuk, a nisem dobil odgovora.

Dodajam še besedo papeža Frančiška, ki jo je izrekel na srečanju z direktorji evropskih jezuitskih kulturnih revij, s katerimi se je pogovarjal 19. maja 2022.

Frančišek je rekel to, kar izrekam tudi sam: Pred nekaj leti smo se spominjali 60. obletnice izkrcanja v Normandiji. Zmago so proslavili številni voditelji držav in vlad. Nihče se ni spomnil deset tisoč mladih, ki so ob tej priložnosti umrli na plaži. Ko sem se leta 2014 ob stoletnici prve svetovne vojne odpravil v Redipuglijo, sem ob pogledu na starost padlih vojakov jokal. Ko sem nekaj let pozneje, 2. novembra, obiskal Anzio, sem tudi tam jokal, ko sem videl starost teh padlih vojakov. Ko sem lani obiskal francosko pokopališče, so bili na grobovih mladih moških – kristjanov ali muslimanov – tudi mladi moški, stari 20, 22 ali 24 let. Zakaj vam to govorim? Ker bi rad, da se vaše revije ukvarjajo s človeško platjo vojne. Želim si, da bi ljudje razumeli človeško dramo vojne. Zelo dobro je opraviti geopolitični izračun, poglobljeno preučiti stvari. To morate storiti, ker je to vaše delo. Poskušajte pa tudi prikazati človeško dramo vojne. Človeška drama teh pokopališč, človeška drama plaž v Normandiji ali Anziu, človeška drama ženske, ki ji poštar potrka na vrata in prejme pismo, v katerem se ji zahvaljuje, da je domovini dala sina, ki je heroj domovine… Tako ostane sama. Razmišljajte o družbenopolitičnih vprašanjih, vendar ne zanemarite človeškega razmisleka o vojni.

14. septembra sem na Zunanje ministrstvo RS poslal elektronsko pošto, v kateri sem ministrico in njeno ekipo obvestil, da sem bil sredi oboroženega napada ter da jo pozivam, naj Republika Slovenija obsodi napad Azerbajdžana na Republiko Armenijo. Kot se je to zgodilo v drugih tovrstnih primerih.

Mesec dni zatem sem dobil odgovor, iz katerega je razvidno, da 1) se Republika Slovenija izogiba obsodbi agresije na Republiko Armenijo in da 2) v napad vnašajo tretjo temo, ki z napadom ni povezana, posledično pa odvračajo pozornost od resničnega vprašanja.

Email se glasi: Spoštovani! Zahvaljujemo se vam za delitev vaše izkušnje ter informacij iz terena o nedavni vojaški eskalaciji ob armensko-azerbajdžanski meji. Na Ministrstvu za zunanje zadeve podrobno spremljamo razmere v regiji in smo zelo zaskrbljeni zaradi napetosti in eskalacij ob armensko-azerbajdžanski meji. Zelo podpiramo napore EU za izgradnjo zaupanja in normalizacijo odnosov med državama. Skupaj z mednarodnimi partnerji smo pripravljeni pomagati pri zmanjševanju napetosti ter stabilizaciji razmer na poti do vzpostavitve trajnostnega miru. Visoki predstavnik za zunanjo politiko Josep Borrell je tako v tem tednu opravil telefonska pogovora z obema ministroma za zunanje zadeve. Države članice smo se dogovorile, da v Armenijo napotimo civilno misijo EU na mejno območje z Azerbajdžanom z namenom spremljanja obmejne situacije. Na bilateralni ravni je Slovenija omogočila izvedbo projekta psihosocialne pomoči otrokom iz Gorskega Karabaha, ki poteka ravno te dni na Debelem rtiču. Program psihosocialne rehabilitacije bo vključeval skupinsko in individualno terapijo, cirkuško pedagogiko in prostočasne aktivnosti. Pot do miru in stabilnosti je dolga, zato v naših bilateralnih pogovorih (nazadnje ob robu BSF in UNGA77) obe strani spodbujamo, da nadaljujeta po tej poti. Razprave o celovitem miru bodo morale obravnavati tudi prihodnost etničnega armenskega prebivalstva v Karabahu ter njihove pravice in varnost.

Z prijaznimi pozdravi,

Berta Mrak,

Vodja sektorja, Pooblaščena ministrica

English

Going through fire

This September, Markus and I spent two weeks in Armenia. We started with a wonderful twelve days in the midst of ancient monasteries and churches, high mountains, beautiful landscapes and many extraordinary encounters. One of the most beautiful encounters was on September 10, when we rather naively set off into the mountains from the town of Jermuk. In Soviet times, this was a famous resort town with its own airport. The latter is just standing there as a ruin, while the influx of holiday makers continues. So, as we headed out of town towards the mountains, at an altitude of about 2500 meters, quite close to the border with Azerbaijan, we suddenly found ourselves in front of a military installation: we saw howitzers buried in the ground, covered with camouflage nets. They were pointed towards the border. At the end of this strange scene was a small military camp with a dozen soldiers, who at first were not too happy to be approached by strangers. We got the feeling that the Armenians were not familiar with mountaineering and hiking, as the boys simply could not understand what we were doing in there. After a few questions in awkward English, the ice slowly broke. They understood that we were not enemies, and at one point they asked us if we were up for coffee. You don’t refuse an invitation like that in their country, and even less so in the given situation. They invited us into their army tent, where the promised coffee turned into a real meal: we put our snacks on the table, and they brought bread, cheese, sausage and fruit and shared it all. At one point, they added a brandy that one of the young men had got from his grandfather. At the beginning of this sudden gathering, we told them that we were priests, whereupon they repeatedly asked: You priests? It was as if they wanted to make sure they had understood correctly. And when they did, in the midst of blissful joy, full of pride, they showed us their crosses hanging around their necks, kissed them, and brought us the prayer book of St. Gregory. It seemed like a moment of grace in which they could confess their faith in Jesus with all their hearts. They also told us about their hopes for life after military service … I remember one boy on the edge of the table who wanted to take the exams to study architecture, another who wanted to become a translator from English … and so on.

Without exception, all the boys were 20-year-old, and their commander was not with them that day. That was probably the reason why we were able to spend that time so relaxed with them at the table. As we were starting to say goodbye, they asked us if we had a present for them. They wanted to offer us their military caps. That day, Markus wore a cap with the inscription Totus tuus, which was Pope John Paul II’s motto, All Yours. One of the young men asked him if he could have this cap as a gift. This exchange was the last act before the farewell. We said the Our Father to conclude, and then Markus and I returned to the valley. We were like disciples on the road to Emmaus: we could not stop expressing our delight at having met them. There was a kind of fire in our hearts. In accordance with the wishes of the young boys, we did not take any photos.

On Monday, 12 September, we were on Mount Murad, which is just over 3200 meters high and is on the opposite side of the military outpost, but still quite close to the border. The ascent was easy, as it went over a vast terrain. At one point we were spotted by an elderly gentleman. Like the young recruits of two days ago, the gentleman insisted that we were his guests. The story repeated itself with lunch and coffee. At one point, a military aircraft flew over the mountain, quite low and noisy. The shepherds immediately knew what it was: the Azerbaijani army. The gentleman in question said that they had not been very friendly lately, but that basically there was no problem. Anyway, the climb up Murad was quite long, so we went to bed quite quickly.

A few minutes after midnight, sleep and a peaceful holiday were over: we were awakened by the deafening noise of two violent detonations next to our holiday home and numerous gunshots on the mountain ridge above the town. We jumped out of our rooms and immediately said to each other: We have to get out of here! It quickly became clear that the barracks and the army camp, which are in the immediate vicinity of our holiday home, had been shelled.

Without saying anything, we knew that we were in the middle of a front between two enemy armies and that it was therefore not at all a given that we would stay alive. We had no choice but to walk out of the house towards the car park, amidst the explosions and the occasional detonations. In the ground-floor flat of the house, Pavel and Tanya, a Russian couple who, like us, had arrived in the car park. They asked us if we could take them with us; they were without a car. So, just a few minutes after the shelling started, we decided to flee. In the meantime, with the power out, we were panicking in the dark trying to take the most important things. It was clear that we would not be able to take all our belongings with us, as four people and their luggage would not fit in our small rented car. We also had a chapel in our flat with a consecrated host, which we kept in a pyxidium and stowed in our shirt pocket when we fled.

And so, at quarter past midnight, we left the holiday house and drove off into the night, with the loud bangs of detonations all around us. The dried-up meadows on the mountain slopes were on fire because of the shelling. It was terrifying, and we were unsure whether it was right to go into this hell. As we drove through Jermuk, past residential neighborhoods, it quickly became clear that we were not the only ones who wanted to leave: one car after another was descending the road from the high-altitude town into the valley. It was a veritable exodus. Everyone wanted to leave. We drove for just over an hour and found two rooms in a hotel in the town of Vaik for a Russian couple and us. We even thought of going back the next day to pick up the things we had left behind. On the morning of September 13, the owner of the hotel told us that this was not possible, as the whole town had been closed and evacuated, and that the armed conflict was continuing. So we drove to Yerevan with Paul and Tania and waited there for the return flight on September 15.

Slowly, news started to reach us. It was clear that a new phase in the conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan was imminent. This was not about the long-disputed region of Nagorno-Karabakh, but about an attack by Azerbaijan on Armenia. We have learned that the very mountain peaks where we met the young soldiers two days ago have been occupied by Azerbaijan. In total, around 200 Armenian soldiers were killed. We could not forget the faces of the young boys with whom we ate, laughed and prayed. We think they had died in the attacks because they were literally in the front row, in the place that was the easiest target.

When we arrived in Yerevan, we were surprised that there were virtually no signs of war in the capital. Restaurants, cafés and department stores were open, and many people were on the streets. For the four of us, who had to flee Jermuk a few hours earlier, this was surprising and almost repulsive. Markus and I walked through the streets in the centre of Yerevan, still with the Blessed Sacrament in our shirt pockets. We had the impression that we could bless this land with Jesus. On the evening of September 13, we arrived at a hotel near the airport and celebrated Holy Mass there. The Gospel of that day was Luke 7:11-17, which reports the death of the only son of the widow of Nain. The woman mourns and weeps for her son, which arouses the compassion of Jesus. We had the feeling that this was what was happening around us: that we were surrounded by many mothers mourning and weeping for their fallen sons. The young soldiers with whom we shared bread, coffee and brandy suddenly made the war between Armenia and Azerbaijan so concrete. For us, it was no longer a war at the end of the world, but it took on very real faces that we will probably never forget.

In the days that followed, we felt anger and indignation at our countries’ coverage and reaction to this conflict … to this war. The European Union, but also Germany (Markus’ home country) and Slovenia, called for moderation and for peace. However, the statements did not clearly state what had actually happened: that one country had invaded another country’s territory, killing border guards, moving the border and endangering civilians. Azerbaijan has not been labelled the aggressor in this conflict. Since Russia, the traditional protector of Armenia, currently has other concerns and is doing nothing for Armenia, this small country is facing a question of survival.

On 18 July 2022, Ursula von der Leyen visited Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev and signed an agreement to significantly increase gas supplies: annually from 8 to 20 billion cubic metres. Is it a coincidence, then, that we have not seen a clear condemnation of the Azerbaijani attack on Armenia? Is their gas perhaps more important than the truth? Or perhaps the European Union does not want to get too entangled with Azerbaijan? We rightly condemn and boycott the dictator Putin, while at the same time allowing the dictator Ilham Aliyev to do as he pleases. His ultimate goal is probably quite clear: the unification of the mother country with Nakhichevan. We are obviously tolerating this intention for the time being, including the method of war that this objective envisages.

Nothing stops our desire to have enough cheap gas at home.

When I carry the Armenian people in my prayers, I cannot help but sing Mary’s praise, which is not a kind of wishful thinking, but a witness to God’s plan: He has thrown down the mighty from their thrones and exalted the lowly, He has filled the hungry with good things and dismissed the rich in their emptiness. He stood up for his servant Israel and remembered mercy, as he spoke to our fathers.

I saw three articles in the Slovenian media on the war after my return home: this one on September 13, this one the day after, and this one a day later. The second is the only one that correctly states that Azerbaijan shelled the spa town of Jermuk, while the last one insists on the incorrect information that the conflict is about Nagorno-Karabakh. I wrote an informative e-mail to the editorial staff of the national television web portal about our experience in the spa town of Jermuk, but I have not received any reply.

I would also like to add a word from Pope Francis at the meeting with the directors of the European Jesuit cultural journals, with whom he held talks on May 19, 2022.

A few years ago, we commemorated the 60th anniversary of the Battle of Normandy. No one remembered the tens of thousands of young people who died on the beach on that occasion. When I went to Redipuglia in 2014 for the centenary of the First World War, I cried at the sight of the age of the fallen soldiers. When I visited Anzio a few years later, on November 2, I also cried there when I saw the age of those fallen soldiers. When I visited a French cemetery last year, there were young men – Christian or Muslim – on the graves of young men in their 20s, 22s or 24s. Why am I telling you this? Because I want your magazines to deal with the human side of war. I want people to understand the human drama of war. It is very good to make a geopolitical calculation, to study things in depth. You have to do that because that is your job. But also try to show the human drama of war. The human drama of these cemeteries, the human drama of the beaches of Normandy or Anzio, the human drama of the woman who gets a knock on her door from the postman and receives a letter thanking her for giving her country a son who is a hero of the country…. So she is left alone. Think about socio-political issues, but do not neglect the human reflection on war.

On September 14, I sent an e-mail to the Foreign Ministry of the Republic of Slovenia, informing the Minister and her team that I was in the middle of an armed attack and calling on the Republic of Slovenia to condemn the attack by Azerbaijan on the Republic of Armenia. As has happened in other cases of this kind.

A month later, I received a reply, which made it clear that 1) the Republic of Slovenia avoids condemning the aggression against the Republic of Armenia and that 2) they were introducing a third issue into the story, which was unrelated to the attack and, as a result, were diverting attention away from the real issue.

The email reads. Thank you for sharing your experience and information from the field about the recent military escalation along the Armenian-Azerbaijani border. At the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, we are closely monitoring the situation in the region and are very concerned about the tensions and escalations along the Armenian-Azerbaijani border. We are very supportive of the EU’s efforts to build confidence and normalize relations between the two countries. Together with our international partners, we stand ready to help reduce tensions and stabilize the situation on the path towards a sustainable peace. The High Representative for Foreign Policy, Josep Borrell, has therefore held telephone talks with both Foreign Ministers this week. Member States have agreed to deploy an EU civilian mission to the border area with Azerbaijan in Armenia to monitor the border situation. At bilateral level, Slovenia has facilitated the implementation of a psychosocial assistance project for children from Nagorno-Karabakh, which is currently taking place in Debeli Rtič. The psychosocial rehabilitation program will include group and individual therapy, circus pedagogy and leisure activities. The road to peace and stability is a long one, and in our bilateral talks (most recently on the margins of the BSF and UNGA77) we have encouraged both sides to continue along this path. Discussions on comprehensive peace will also need to address the future of the ethnic Armenian population in Karabakh and their rights and security.

Kind regards,

Berta Mrak,

Head of Sector, Minister Plenipotentiary