This past weekend, I had the opportunity to listen to some members of our emerging generation share their views on challenges facing the Armenian community. We are fortunate that our children have many Armenian friends from their time in youth organizations, church and camps. It is an unexpected benefit for us as parents to stay current with the thinking of our youth and their expectations. It is also a blessing to mentor and support these young adults. Each of us can certainly recall those teachers, priests, community leaders or relatives who took the time to advise us at critical junctures in our lives.
The Armenian diaspora functions on two critical dependencies: sustaining a connection to our heritage among each generation and fostering a commitment to participate. The former depends on creating an emotional connection between our inherent interests and our Armenian experiences.
It is one of the reasons why we have such diverse skills in our communities—including teachers, musicians, visual artists, managers and financial experts. In essence, our communities operate as sustainable villages, able to meet many of the emotional, social and cultural needs of their members. When I was 13, I joined the AYF because I loved to play basketball, and I was able to play in different communities in New England.
Long before the proliferation of the travel leagues that dominate youth sports culture today, we would hop in a car on Sunday afternoon and head to Boston, Providence, Lowell or Worcester. As long as one teammate had a car, we were on our way. I loved basketball and played constantly in my neighborhood. Through AYF, I was able to extend that passion to play with other Armenians. Basketball led to friendships, and those friendships were nurtured at post-game socials held at local churches. The basketball league opened many new doors, exposing me to other communities and more serious issues in our diaspora.
It is a simple example that has been repeated thousands of times. These experiences help complete the identity factor essential to our communities. The other aspect of our diaspora dependency—commitment—is a reflection of our values. Many active members and leaders in our community have role models who inspired them. It is not a coincidence that, for many, their parents played a central role. Repetitive participation is an important element, and it is typically parents (or in some cases, grandparents) who foster that engagement.
It is difficult to build a value of commitment if you attended church only two or three times a year in your youth. It is the regular rhythm of church, youth groups and community activities blending into your personal fabric that sustains long-term commitment. Many of us were fortunate to grow up in households where humility and service to others were prominent values. These are learned behaviors, illustrating the critical dependency of parenting in the diaspora.
During my conversation with some of our youth adults, I was eager to hear about their “integration” into the community. This is particularly important for our thirty-somethings as they transition out of structured youth programs and find their paths as adults in the Armenian community. Each generation has its own challenges. I recall my parents talking about the transitions from the survivor generation. Despite their enormous respect for the previous generation, there were major issues around authority transitions and general acceptance. For my generation, the distractions of a comfortable lifestyle could lead to drifting away from the community.
For the current young adult generation, much has comparatively changed.
Generally speaking, young people are getting married later and starting families well into their thirties or beyond. This reflects educational and career advancements that often postpone social milestones achieved earlier by previous generations. From a community perspective, this delays the integration of many of our youth into community life. I often compare the late twenties and early thirties in our communities to the moment astronauts lose radio contact while circling the moon. There’s a temporary void at times.
We have superb infrastructure to support young people into their post-college years—Sunday Schools, language schools, youth organizations and young adult groups. But identity has been more challenging for that young professional age group in their late twenties. For those who choose marriage and raising a family, the “radio loss” subsides as they find their way through their children. It is somewhat analogous to young couples moving to a community and developing social networks through their children in the school system and sports.
That is one of the main reasons why young professional groups such as the AGBU Young Professionals and the Armenian Network have gained traction—they focus on identity, social activities and connections for mostly single professionals. Many in this demographic are not traditional “joiners” when compared to their parents’ generation. They emerge later into community life and, in some cases, may feel reluctant to join the traditional organizations.
Each generation has a right and a responsibility to set its own path within the community it inherits. The survivor generation invested in “compatriotic unions” that reflected places of birth. The next generation introduced “Men’s Clubs” or “Mr. And Mrs. Clubs” as a reflection of the diaspora’s evolution. Networking and social mixers for young professionals has emerged for this generation.
With each new introduction, there also remains a core of traditional infrastructure—organizations like the Knights of Vartan, AGBU, ARS, Hamazkayin and NAASR. Of course, the church remains the most significant institution that is either the beneficiary of this influx or reflects our challenges. How we manage the inevitable transitions is critical. Many young people have made the commitment to participate but feel that there is a major difference between participating and influencing. This is a challenge for each generation, but the stakes grow higher with each successive one.
Generational transition is not an event or milestone. It is a continuous process that slowly impacts everyone and every organization. In the corporate world, there is a process called “succession planning”—ensuring sustainability by preparing future leaders. From my recent dialogue—and many others like it—I have come away with two main takeaways: First, we are struggling as a community to engage the next generation. There are exceptions, of course, but we would be wise to not rationalize the failures. Second, many in this emerging generation do not feel taken seriously when it comes to sharing authority and decision making.
I applaud communities that make a conscious effort to include a mix of all ages on their councils and boards. This blending not only ensures sound decisions for the community, but models what generational transition should look like. In its most effective state, it is silent, uneventful and harmonious.
Leadership matters. Are we encouraging young adults to join but not trusting them with real authority? If we embraced succession planning seriously, we would understand that wise leadership would sometimes step aside to create opportunities for others. If we advocate for certain individuals in elections, why wouldn’t we also advocate for individuals who will help ensure continuity?
I can think of nothing more sad than an organization whose leadership has been superbly committed but has aged without a replenishment strategy. This is not something one leaves to chance. Our future must be more methodical than simply hoping younger people will wait around until the senior generation has had enough.
Wise organizations make their most profound moves when they are publicly successful rather than waiting to experience decline. Reacting only when the problem is visible to all reflects a lack of leadership. Some community segments understand this and are addressing it. Perhaps when we sponsor national assemblies or organizational round tables, successes can be shared with those who are struggling. There is no shame in our current status. The only shame is in denying the need for continuity.
If term limits are what it takes to force opportunity, then so be it—certain groups have recently added those provisions to their bylaws. We must mentor and nourish our youth so they build an identity during their formative years. We must continue to emphasize the importance of service in our core values. Finally, once we have successfully cultivated identity and service, we must be prepared to open the doors to participation, leadership and real decision making.
All communities, including the Armenian diaspora, must take good risks in order to survive in our ever-changing environment. We usually speak about risk in financial terms. Fortunately, we have substantial resources in this domain to ensure our assets are protected. But I can’t think of a better risk than entrusting our direction to this generation. They are ready. The previous generations did a superb job in developing and encouraging them.
It is not a singular event. The opportunities are available every day, in all geographies and institutions. There is no greater joy than seeing the work continue.
Be part of the solution.
Stepan Piligian was raised in the Armenian community of Indian Orchard, Massachusetts, at the St. Gregory Parish. A former member of the AYF Central Executive, he is active in the Armenian community. Currently, he serves on the board of the Armenian Heritage Foundation. Stepan is a retired executive in the computer storage industry and resides in the Boston area with his wife Susan. He has spent many years as a volunteer teacher of Armenian history and contemporary issues to the young generation and adults at schools, camps and churches. His interests include the Armenian diaspora, Armenia, sports and reading.
