Sweden spares no effort to integrate its immigrant population, but for many of its young Armenians, the battle of defining their new identity has just begun.
"It takes a generation or two for people to describe them selves as Swedish Armenians," says Aram Kurkjian, a 40 year old financial analyst the son of an Armenian father and a Swedish mother who was born and raised in Sweden. Isa-Lei Armine Moberg agrees. Her mother, an Armenian from Lebanon, came to Sweden in the 1960's to marry a Swede and raise a family of two boys and a girl.
For them, like the new generation of Armenians born to immigrant families, the question of identity is of great importance. Everything they see at home is Armenian, but the outside world is different, and the battle between the two cultures is a serious struggle.
"The identity crisis is real, especially in Armenian teenagers who were born here in Sweden, and more so in those who have mixed parents. They live like Swedes at school while the parents try to attach them to their often traditional, conservative Armenian ways. It is a very delicate balancing act, and a very serious one," Kurkjian said.
And he should know. He grew up in a society where chauvinism has never been part of the national mindset, and where personal welfare is paramount.
His father was a jeweler from Istanbul who settled down in Sweden in 1949, and as such was one of the very early immigrants who ventured into an unknown world, far away from family and friends. He married a Swedish woman but never lost contact with his extended family back home.
"I remember my father taking me to Istanbul to be with his relatives and friends almost every year until I was 18 years old. I enjoyed those visits, but for all practical purposes I was growing up as a Swede. I was too young to understand," Kurkjian said.
Blonde and blue eyed, features which he took from his mother, Kurkjian looks very Swedish. "I don't even have an Armenian nose," he jokes.
At the university, he studied political science, sociology and economic history and then entered the work force. His friends were almost exclusively Swedish and so was his life-style. A pacifist by nature, and calm and poised like all Swedes, Kurkjian slowly began drifting away from his Armenian roots. "At times, maybe I was just an Armenian by name and not much else," he says.
But his father was always there, acting as a reminder of the other half of his identity. He heard his father's stories about the Genocide of the Armenians and how his grandfather was one of the victims of the atrocities. "My father stimulated my interest in history and I began reading. As I grew up I began to understand a lot of things about my background," he said.
But all that did not change him much. He was still not involved in things Armenian. The Swedish influence was too strong, and so were his other pre-occupations. There was a feeling of apathy.
Over the years, and as his career began taking off, Kurkjian returned to his "mental" notebook. "I went over all that my father had taught me, and I remembered one thing: what if my grandfather was alive today? Can I tell him he died for nothing? Can I tell him I am not an Armenian?" Kurkjian explained.
The questions triggered a new awareness, and Kurkjian changed his outlook and began reading more, digging into old documents at Swedish libraries, unearthing documents on Armenian history and especially the darkest days of the nation. The more he read, the more he became attached to his roots, and the more he began getting involved. He started collecting old Armenian writings, coins and other materials and with each item shaping his new identity.
"Now I can say I am a Swedish Armenian because I feel very much at home in both cultures," he said. In fact, Kurkjian's link with his Armenian roots became so strong that he married a French-Armenian girl from Paris. "I fell in love with her, but not because she was Armenian or maybe I did," he said, turning to his new bride over the dinner table at their Stockholm apartment.
Kurkjian does not think what happened to him is unique because, in the last decade or so, immigrant families with children born in Sweden are increasing. "We have to remember that most of the Armenians who began settling in Sweden in the 1970's or 1980's came as adults or teenagers. A new generation is only taking shape now, as their offspring grow up or get married and have children of their own. There is a lot of work to be done with these young people," he said.
One approach is the establishment of small Armenian clubs across Sweden together with language schools and church groups designed to prevent the youth from drifting away. Even in Sweden's public school system, the government provides Armenian language teachers if five students, with at least one Armenian speaking parent, ask for special classes.
"We cannot and should not fight integration, but total assimilation and the loss of our national identity is something else. Look at the Armenian youth in the United States or France. They are the true products of their environment, but at the same time, they have not lost their national awareness. This is what we want here too," Kurkjian said.
His determination is shared by Isa-Lei Armine Moberg, a 30-something multi lingual professional born to an Armenian mother and a Swedish father.
For Ms. Moberg, who is Armine to her Armenian friends and Isa-Lei to her Swedish friends, the question of her dual identity was settled during her teenage years. "My mother is as typical an Armenian mother as can be, still very Middle Eastern in character and attitudes," she said in an interview at the Caritas office in Stockholm where she is the desk officer for the Catholic relief organization's Middle East and North Africa region.
In her work, Armine deals daily with the social and humanitarian problem s facing such countries as Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, Iraq, Algeria and Mauritania, just to name a few. She has a double major in humanities and oriental studies from Stockholm University and has spent a year in Italy doing graduate work. Fluent in English, Italian, Swedish, and a better than working knowledge of French along with some Arabic, Armine also sees herself as a true Swedish-Armenian, a reflection of what future generations will be.
"My brothers are totally different. They are more Swedish than Armenian despite the fact that we have all grown up in the same household," she said.
Her life changed when at 14 she had an opportunity to spend a few weeks in Armenia at a youth camp along with Armenian teenagers from a dozen other countries around the world. "I discovered that we were unable to communicate. No one spoke Swedish, and I knew very little Armenian. I saw the special bond that developed between the kids who spoke Armenian, same as others who came from different countries speaking their local languages. But there was no interaction between the various groups. I asked myself, why? And the answer was the language," she said.
Armine admits that the language is not the only thing that identifies a person, but believes it is important. Over the years after her return, Armine took time off to study Armenian, first on her own And than at a special language center in Venice, Italy.
Today, Armine is deeply involved in Armenian issues and together with other people like Kurkjian has formed a group consisting of young professionals to energize the society and help a new generation of youth the future Swedish-Armenians. "Young people need to be challenged intellectually. Just having parties and attending social functions are not what they need," she said. The group has already begun work with Swedish professors and politicians to better inform the Swedish public and get them more involved in Armenian issues.
"As Swedish-Armenians we can be more effective. This is our year 2000 resolution," she said.
