The wannabe nation of Nagorno-Karabakh
With a flag, parliament, and prime minister, this 'country' is all dressed up but has nowhere to go.
from the May 30, 2007 edition
Page 2 of 3
But Karabakhi officials are the only people who ever see them. The UN, World Bank, and other international organizations that usually collect such statistics and distribute them to the world won't use them, no matter how good, because – Nagorno-Karabakh doesn't officially exist.
A Soviet-trained economist, Danielyan is well versed in Communist centralized planning. But it's to Reaganesque, trickle-down economics that he's turned for salvation. Low taxes and private investment are now his mantra: "Within one year we decreased the income tax from 30 percent to 5 percent. The tax on business revenue has fallen from 28 to 5 percent. Property tax is now only 6 percent," he says, with growing enthusiasm, as the list grows longer. "For imports, there were six different types of taxes. Now there is one standard tax of not more than 2.5 percent!" A veritable business paradise, except for glitches such as sporadic lack of running water and the hostile Azeri military massed on the border.
The next morning, it's time for a tour of the capital, Stepanakert, to see the fruits of the government's low taxation plan. The first stop, though, is of a historic nature: a red sandstone monument depicting the faces of an old woman and old man, called Tatik Paptik (grandmother and grandfather, in Armenian). This symbol of Karabakh, explains a young adviser to the president, looks toward the motherland, Armenia.
Nagorno-Karabakh's relationship to Armenia is, to say the least, complicated. Officially, even Armenia doesn't recognize Karabakh's independence. In practice, it veers between treating it as a sovereign nation and a constituent part of itself.
But the relationship between the leaders of Armenia and Karabakh is cozy: Armenian President Robert Kocharian was formerly the president of Nagorno-Karabakh. Armenian prime minister and long-time defense minister, Serzh Sarkisian, is Karabakh-born and headed the enclave's military effort during the war with Azerbaijan. And Karabaki officials carry Armenian passports because any issued by their own government would be of little use crossing any international border.
Officially, Mr. Sargsyan says, no Armenian troops serve in Karabakh or the occupied territories of Azerbaijan, also taken during the war. But on the streets of Yerevan, stop a young Armenian man on the street and the odds are that he's recently done military service in Nagorno-Karabakh. Indeed, Nagorno-Karabakh boasts a standing army of 25,000 – astounding, if true, because that's nearly a quarter of its population.
In Stepanakert signs of war have been largely erased. Streets and sidewalks are smooth and undamaged. Laundry flutters from the windows of nearly every building. In the gray morning light, it isn't exactly cheery, but it looks no worse than any other post-Communist metropolis.
"Almost every building had traces of war," insists presidential adviser, Edik Atanesian. "Back then, almost no buildings had glass in their windows. All the windows were just covered in plastic."
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