Բարեւ Ձեզ, ու շնորհակալություն այս նյութը դիտելու համար:
Ուզում եմ Ձեզ հետ կիսել Արեւելահայերենի ու Արեւմտահայերենի հնչյունների՝ ձայների, գլխավոր տարբերությունները:
Արեւելահայերենն ու Արեւմտահայերենը իրարից տարբերվում են ե՛ւ քերականության տեսանկյունից, ե՛ւ բառապաշարով: Սակայն, ես, որ հիմա Արեւելահայերեն քերականությամբ ու բառապաշարով եմ հաղորդակցվում, լինում է որ հնչյուններս, առոգանությունս միշտ չի բռնում, որով հետեւ բնիկ Արեւմտահայախոս եմ: Եւ ահա դա է առաջնային տարբերությունը Արեւելահայերենի ու Արեւմտահայերենի միջեւ՝ հնչյունները, լեզվի ձայները: Մինչեւ այս տեսանյութը վերջանա, հույս ունեմ որ կհասկանաք թե ինչպես Արեւմտահայախոսների հնչյունները կանոնավոր ձեւով են տարբերվում Արեւելահայախոսներից. այսինքն, պատահական բառբարայնություններ չեն դրանք, այլ՝ կանոնավոր տարբերություններ:
Disclaimer, based on feedback: All major points and basic information are covered, but some exceptions and other nuances also exist.
Hello, and thank you for watching this video on the regular differences in pronunciation between Western Armenian and Eastern Armenian.
The Armenian language has one, unique alphabet, as you can see.
But it has two formal, literary versions: Eastern Armenian and Western Armenian.
Although, for most educated Armenians, each is mutually-intelligible with the other, there certainly are differences in vocabulary (in words), grammar, and even in orthography, due to Soviet-era spelling reforms.
But the most immediate difference is in sounds — the pronunciation of letters.
Let’s take up those letters that make up those differences.
It boils down to these five sets of three letters. Read more…
Տավուշի մարզի ուղղությամբ կրակելով՝ Ադրբեջանի Հանրապետությունը միջազգային իրավունքի կոպիտ խախտմամբ է հանդես գալիս, ու Հայաստանի Հանրապետությունը՝ որպես միջազգային իրավունքի սուբյեկտ, լիիրավ օժտված է ՄԱԿ-ի Անվտանգության խորհրդին դիմելու այս հարցով:
Միջազգային իրավունքի առանցքային կետը պետությունների միջեւ ուժի կիրառման կարգավորումն է: Երկրորդ աշխարհամարտի դաժան իրականությունից ելնելով, ՄԱԿ-ի Կանոնադրությամբ արգելվեց պետությունների ուժի կիրառումը մեկը մյուսի նկատմամբ:
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The Republic of Azerbaijan is in clear violation of international law by firing on the Tavush region on Armenia, and the Republic of Armenia, as a subject of international law, is in its full rights to appeal to the UN Security Council on this matter.
The essence of international law lies in the regulation of the use of force between states. Following the horrors of the Second World War, the UN Charter prohibits the use of force by states on other states.
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I hate the taxis in Yerevan. Oh, all right, that’s not quite accurate. I dislike taking taxis in Yerevan, despite all the advantages they have to offer. Really, the best way to explore and get to know any city is on foot. And walking around Yerevan can really be wonderful, especially as it is indeed such a walkable city. You can easily get from Point A to Point B in your own shoes, something that is very hard to experience in, say, Los Angeles, for example. Of all the places I’ve lived and visited in the world—not that my sample is too immense, but, with modesty, I imagine it is sufficient to pass the following judgment—Yerevan’s taxis are among the most inexpensive and accessible in the world. It is difficult not to catch one, barring extreme circumstances. And almost anywhere to almost anywhere in the city center almost always costs 600 drams, what is known as the “minimal” (pronounced “mee-nee-mahl”). That’s something like one and a half American dollars. Where, I ask you, is it possible to have a personal car take you from door to door for that amount? Not in too many places in the Western world, I’d wager.
But I still dislike using taxis around here. I feel uncomfortable with the knowledge that there are a whole bunch of strangers in town who know exactly where I live. Oh, yes, it has happened that I’ve had the same driver more than once, and he has known, without my telling him, exactly where I’m headed. That’s just my paranoid self, because probably none of these “taxists,” as they are called, are planning on burglarizing the place while I’m away. And, in this city, sooner or later (let’s be honest: sooner), everyone knows where everyone else lives. That was the case long before Facebook.
For many in the US and fans of its pop culture, the expression ‘the final frontier’ is immediately associated with TV shows and movies set in the future, following the adventures of a spaceship on its explorations of the far reaches of the galaxy. Today, and on this very planet, a kind of frontier exists that has not quite reached its finality and that finds itself drawing more than one line — the border between Armenia and Turkey.
That the Armenian and Turkish peoples have historical baggage between them is not news. One reason for that phenomenon is the fact that different pieces of territory that have over the course of millennia been referred to as “Armenia” are located in areas that make up present-day Iran, Azerbaijan and Georgia, even Syria and Iraq, apart from the Republic of Armenia itself. But, for the most part, the places that bear some Armenian heritage or other fall within Turkey today — and that heritage is almost entirely ignored, incessantly facing disrepair or purposeful destruction. The neglect becomes more evident when contrasted with the care given to the rich Ottoman heritage present in the country.
It is the past century in particular that has generated and sustained friction between Armenians and Turks. This is unsurprisingly accounted for by the historical legacy of the massacres and deportations of Armenians and other Christians of Asia Minor and Anatolia that took place in the late 19th and early 20th century, as the Ottoman Empire was drawing to a close and the Republic of Turkey was entering the arena of history. The qualification of that time period is disputed. Referred to as the Armenian genocide by most outside of Turkey and Azerbaijan, the characterization of “genocide” is disputed within the Turkish narrative.
I recently had the opportunity to spend a few days in Erbil, the capital of the autonomous Kurdistan Regional Government (KRG), in the north of Iraq. The generosity of the KRG, in cooperation with the institution where I study, allowed for around 15 graduate-level students of international affairs to meet with regional officials and to explore some of the sights of that part of Iraqi Kurdistan.
As someone born and raised in India, Erbil seemed rather familiar to me. The layout of the city, the architecture, and the general flatness and climate were reminiscent of my native Delhi. But the people, their outlook, their culture, and certainly their food, spoke far more to my Armenian heritage, to say nothing of their dances. I was expecting as much. I just wish their shourchbar was faster-paced, but maybe they were toning it down for us foreigners. What I was not expecting was how very similar the countryside in Kurdistan would be to that of Armenia: the same rolling hills and valleys, more or less rocky, craggy, without all that much greenery. We saw a fair number of waterfalls as well. Plus, there was a brand-new téléphérique (I made sure to note how long it was, just to confirm that the record set up in Tatev remains unbeaten).
It’s that time of the year again. The run-up to the 24th of April – Armenian Martyrs’ Day – usually sees a slew of activity in Washington with one of the nation’s most persistent ethno-national lobbies clashing with the millions spent in counter-advocacy efforts by an active long-time member of NATO and close ally of the United States. It is not a balanced battle, but even though American citizens of Armenian descent have been a presence in Washington since the 1970s, all the political and financial clout coming out of Turkey has managed to stop short a presidential acknowledgement of “the g-word” (even if it was sort of slipped in a speech by President Ronald Reagan to commemorate the Holocaust). And even though the US Congress has twice, in 1975 and 1984, gone ahead with condemning “man’s inhumanity to man,” the recognition and commemoration of the Armenian Genocide at the national level has never been implemented as a federal policy.
An honour system. For riding the metro? This was something new. How can you allow people to just wander onto a platform without bothering to check their tickets? And what’s with pushing buttons or yanking handles to open the wagon doors?
These were some of my very early impressions when I first found myself in Vienna, back in the autumn. But while I couldn’t believe the city would organise itself this way – it seemed rather naïve – on the other hand, I still haven’t taken a free ride on the U-Bahn myself. I keep saying that I have never seen a ticket-checker (and it’s true that I haven’t). But I also keep telling myself that I can’t risk getting Vienna upset at me. She’s too pretty.
Gerhard Freilinger is not your average doctor. He has led a life that is immediately enviable, but at the same time, one that has called for a great deal of courage. Having lived through wars and being exposed with the effects of conflict – both tangible and intangible – Dr. Freilinger has seen every side of both guns and operating tables in a whirlwind that has spanned seven decades. Nareg Seferian caught up with the man at the Kurdistan Regional Government representation in Vienna.
“I was born in Upper Austria, in Linz [in 1927]. I became a soldier at the age of fifteen,” Dr. Freilinger recalls. But his military career during the Second World War did not last long, as he ended up as a prisoner of war in Yugoslavia at just 17 years old. “I was in very, very bad condition after two and a half years of prison in Yugoslavia. I came home in 1946, very heavily damaged. My soul was sick, my heart was sick.”
Interested in being a doctor at a young age, Dr. Freilinger recalls how, at 12, he told his parents, “I would like to see this hospital [in Linz], but not only the operating room.” This was surprising to a family of lawyers. It was during his recovery in Salzburg, which took more than a year, where he decided to take on medicine as a profession. He finished with his schooling and then studied medicine at Innsbruck, followed by a fellowship in the United States. Notably, he ended up working in the field of plastic and reconstructive surgery, helping people deal with the physical scars of war.
He used his education and skills in a wide-ranging manner. While both working and teaching full-time in Vienna over the course of the following decades, he was among the first who specialized in plastic and reconstructive surgery in Austria. Dr. Freilinger juggled his time and efforts to travel, lecture and operate all over the world, with special interest in conflict areas.
As with most of the post-Soviet world, the Armenian press did not have much to go on in terms of a real journalistic tradition after the USSR collapsed. There may have been a lot of publications in the Armenian world-within the country and in the organized diaspora outside of it-but as far as the new Republic of Armenia was concerned, its journalists and broadcasters were coming out of decades of censorship when independence came in 1991. That legacy can be felt to this day, as numerous media outlets clearly toe the line of national policy, while others go to the other extreme of spreading scandals. Very few have the courage, the resources, and the professionalism to carry out objective and meaningful reporting.
The Internet has been a major factor in shaking things up recently. In just a handful of years, an online explosion has provided Armenia with a whole new medium of expression, one that has the capacity, among other things, of being much less immediately accountable to the powers that be.
Arsen Kharatyan, a journalist at Voice of America’s Armenian service, based in Washington, DC, explains the fallout: “We can register significant progress within the last four to five years. There are at least two dozen websites which produce news on a daily basis from Armenia. he number of the Internet users in the country has also grown during the last three years, which I believe can be explained by a more competitive Internet market, which ultimately lowered the prices for Internet and became available to average citizens of the country.”