Historically and geographically, Armenia has found itself bordered on three sides by Muslim countries — Turkey to the west, Azerbaijan to the east, and Iran to the south — and it shares only its northern border with a Christian country, Georgia. Within this naturally destined neighborhood, one of the most frequently discussed questions is the following: why is there a consistently respectful attitude in Iran toward our religious culture, faith, and Church, while in Turkey and its younger brother Azerbaijan, Armenian churches are either destroyed or turned into mosques? How can one explain the tolerance of one Muslim neighbor and the hostility and xenophobia of another?

In Iran’s case, two defining features stand out. First, the country possesses a rich, uninterrupted cultural, civilizational, and religious heritage. Second, unlike Turkey and Azerbaijan, Iran does not suffer from an inferiority complex with regard to its past. It is important to emphasize that Iranian civilization neither began with Islam nor ends with it. Emerging from the depths of history, Persia and Armenia alike have experienced both flourishing and decline, triumphs and tragedies, yet have never lost their sense of hope. They have preserved the courage of their spirit and continued to coexist as good neighbors and friends through the centuries.

In that country of a different faith, to say that there is respect toward Armenian spiritual and historical-cultural heritage would be an understatement. Our religious monuments—churches, temples, khachkars (cross-stones), and others—face no danger in Iran, as they remain under state protection. Nations endowed with a deep and continuous culture generally approach the artistic and architectural achievements of others with reverence, viewing them as inseparable elements of their shared civilizational landscape. In contrast, the situation in Turkey and Azerbaijan is entirely different. Here we encounter, in the classical sense, the manifestations of an inferiority complex—a subject that deserves closer examination.

Modern Turkey, in many ways, represents a vast melting pot that has absorbed the cultures and heritages and even world wonders of the multiethnic peoples who once created great civilizations on its territory. The modern Turkish nation is also the product of centuries of conversions—of peoples whose spiritual legacies remain as silent reminders of the concealed pages of Turkish identity. The Turks of today, in essence, have become Turks entirely through and because of Islam. Remove Islam, and what remains is a Torricellian vacuum—an emptiness where cultural continuity once stood. The other civilizations buried within this space are, metaphorically speaking, “skeletons in the cupboard,” carefully locked away so that they never resurface to challenge the official narrative of identity.

This is why, in Turkey, there persists a profound hostility toward the spiritual and cultural heritage of the peoples who once inhabited this “great melting pot.” The conversion of churches into mosques serves not only as a symbolic act of dominance but also as a ritual of erasing memory—a victory over the past of those lands. Victory, however, comes with its own burden: for the Turkish nation, confronting its past and repenting for the crimes committed a century and a decade ago remains an unhealed wound. For over a hundred years, Turkish society has suffered from a deep-seated inferiority complex toward its own history. Mustafa Kemal Ataturk’s efforts to transform the Turks into a civic nation were ambitious, yet the very process of national reconstruction raised questions whose honest answers could have destabilized the fragile foundations of their identity.

A similar inferiority complex has long characterized the leadership of Azerbaijan. This psychological burden became especially evident in the aftermath of war—manifested through the president’s erratic triumphalism, his verbal aggression toward Armenia, and his obsessive demands and insecurities. One fact remains clear: regardless of how Pashinyan defines today’s Armenia—even if he labels it “Real”—it will continue to evoke in Erdogan and Aliyev memories of their unresolved past, haunted by historical and psychological complexes. Whatever Armenia does, their hostility will persist, for the root of their hatred lies not in us, but within themselves—in the shadows of their own history, which they strive to erase, yet can never truly forget.

“Hayatsk Yerevanits” Journal