Latest / The Story of Armenia: Survival Through Empires and Genocide — Fexingo History / Armenia's First Republic: The Battle of Sardarabad and National Survival
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about the medieval and early modern Armenian kingdoms — Bagratid, Cilician, the Safavid-Ottoman carve-up. But I think today we should land on a moment that's really foundational for modern Armenia: the Battle of Sardarabad in May 1918. Luna: That's the one where Armenia almost didn't survive, right? Lucas: Exactly. It's May 1918 — the First World War is still raging, but Russia has collapsed into revolution. The Russian army in the Caucasus disintegrates, and the Ottoman Third Army, having been freed up from the Caucasus front, pushes east. Their goal is to seize Baku and the oil fields, but on the way, they have to go through Armenia. And by 'Armenia' I mean a tiny, barely-organized republic that had declared independence just a week earlier. Lucas: The Ottoman force was enormous — maybe 15,000 to 20,000 well-equipped troops, including German-trained divisions. Opposing them was a hastily assembled Armenian corps of about 10,000 men, many of them veterans of the Russian army but also volunteers, fedayee fighters, even priests from Etchmiadzin carrying rifles. Luna: Wait — priests? Actually fighting? Lucas: Absolutely. The Catholicos of All Armenians at the time was George V, who was based at the Mother See at Etchmiadzin. He blessed the troops and sent monks and clergy to the front. There's a famous story of a monk named Father Ghevond who led a charge with a cross in one hand and a revolver in the other. This was existential — the Ottoman plan wasn't just conquest, it was annihilation. They had already deported and massacred over a million Armenians in 1915. Lucas: The commander of the Armenian forces was a general named Movses Silikyan. He was a career officer in the Russian Imperial Army, an ethnic Armenian from Tiflis. He understood that if the Ottoman army broke through at Sardarabad — a small village about 30 kilometers west of Yerevan — there was nothing between them and the capital. Yerevan had maybe 30,000 people at the time, no fortifications. Luna: So he had to stop them there or lose everything. Lucas: Exactly. The battle began on May 21, 1918. The Ottoman forces advanced in three columns — one toward Sardarabad, another toward Karakilisa, and a third toward Bash-Aparan. Silikyan had to divide his already outnumbered forces. At Sardarabad itself, he placed his best units — the 1st and 2nd Armenian regiments — along with the fedayee bands that had been fighting the Ottomans for years. Lucas: For two days, the Armenians held. They used the terrain — the Ararat plain, with its irrigation canals and orchards — to slow the Ottoman advance. But by the third day, the Ottomans had broken through the first line. Silikyan ordered a counterattack with his last reserves. And it worked — the Ottomans were pushed back, and they started to retreat in disorder. The Armenians pursued, capturing artillery and supplies. Luna: Wait, so they actually won? I thought the end result was a compromise. Lucas: They won the battle, yes — decisively. But the strategic situation after was dire. The Ottoman Empire was still a major power, and the Armenians were exhausted and running out of ammunition. So when the Ottomans sued for peace, Armenia had to sign the Treaty of Batum on June 4, 1918. And that treaty was brutal — Armenia lost control of Kars, Ardahan, and the region of Alexandropol, now Gyumri. Two-thirds of what the republic claimed was ceded. The republic survived, but barely. Lucas: That's why Sardarabad is such a complicated memory. It's celebrated as the victory that saved the Armenian nation — and it did — but it also happened alongside a bitter compromise. Every year on May 28, Republic Day, Armenians visit the Sardarabad memorial, which is this massive belfry-like structure with a carved entrance that looks like a medieval fortress. It's a site of pride, but also of somber reflection. Luna: Hmm, I didn't know the memorial was built that way. It sounds almost defensive. Lucas: It is. The architect, Rafael Israelyan, designed it in the 1960s to evoke an Armenian medieval fortress, with khachkars — cross-stones — lining the pathway. The whole complex is a reminder that the nation had to defend its existence against overwhelming odds. Lucas: Now, there's also a less-known angle to Sardarabad: the role of Armenian women. While the men fought, women from surrounding villages dug trenches, carried water and ammunition under fire, and even manned some positions when fighters fell. There's a story of a woman named Sose, who was a fedayee fighter's widow, taking over a machine gun after her husband was killed. These aren't myths — they're recorded in memoirs. Luna: Why have I never heard about that? It's always the generals and the priests. Lucas: Because for a long time, Soviet historiography suppressed the Battle of Sardarabad altogether. The Soviet narrative wanted to downplay the role of nationalism and the Dashnaktsutyun party, which had led the republic. So the battle was barely mentioned in textbooks. It wasn't until the 1960s, during a period of cultural thaw, that the memorial was built and the battle started to be publicly acknowledged. And even then, it was framed as a 'people's struggle' rather than a national one. Luna: So the Soviets erased it, and now it's back as a central national story. Lucas: Exactly. And that reclamation is part of why the battle resonates so deeply today. It's not just a military event — it's a symbol of survival against erasure. The irony, of course, is that the First Republic only lasted two years before it was absorbed into the Soviet Union in 1920. But for those two years, Armenia was a functioning state with a parliament, a currency, and a flag. And it all hinged on three days in May 1918. Lucas: I want to mention one more figure: Aram Manukian. He was the de facto leader of the republic, a Dashnak revolutionary who had organized the defense of Van in 1915. After the Russian withdrawal, he was the one who rallied the shattered Armenian population, set up a government in Yerevan, and kept morale alive. He died of typhus in January 1919, just months after the armistice. He's often called the 'father of the republic'. Luna: He sounds like a figure who should be better known. Lucas: He should be. There's a statue of him in Yerevan, but his story is still overshadowed by the genocide narrative. I think that's partly because the republic was so short-lived. But Sardarabad is his legacy as much as Silikyan's. Luna: If today was actually useful to you, the way these stay ad-free is listener support — buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Lucas: Yeah, exactly. It's a small gesture that keeps us independent and lets us dig into topics like this without commercial breaks. So thanks to anyone who chips in. Luna: Alright, back to the battlefield — what happened to Silikyan after the war? Lucas: He stayed in the republic and served as a general in the Armenian army. When the Bolsheviks took over in 1920, he was arrested and executed by the Soviets in 1924, along with many other Dashnak officers. So his loyalty to independent Armenia cost him his life. But his name is honored — there's a street in Yerevan, and his portrait hangs in the Sardarabad museum. Lucas: And the battlefield itself? Today it's a memorial complex, but the actual ground is farmland. You can walk the fields where the fighting happened, and it's very quiet — just the sound of the Ararat wind. There's a chapel nearby, and the whole site is a UNESCO tentative list candidate. But it's not a major tourist destination — most visitors to Armenia go to Etchmiadzin or the genocide memorial. Luna: Maybe it should be. It's a story of survival against the odds. Lucas: It really is. And I think that's the thread that runs through Armenian history — from Tigran the Great to the Bagratids to Sardarabad. Every time it seems like the nation is finished, something pulls it back from the edge.