36 years have passed since the day that divided Azerbaijan’s history into a “before” and an “after.” A punitive operation by the Soviet army in a Soviet city. Nearly one and a half hundred civilian deaths. Tanks and live fire against the unarmed. Black January. January 20, 1990…
Only now, perhaps, is it becoming clear just how high the stakes were in January 1990 — and why it was so vital for the Kremlin at the time to retain control precisely over Azerbaijan. Oil and gas, the convenient Caspian harbor — the main base of the Red Banner Caspian Flotilla — a crossroads of latitudinal and meridional routes, advantageous locations for radar stations and missile positions — Moscow was extremely reluctant to part with all of this. That is why the punitive operation in Baku was carried out on the eve of elections to the Supreme Soviet of Azerbaijan, where the victory of supporters of independence was, in essence, already predetermined. Today, those who like to lecture about “insufficient democracy” prefer not to recall this, but back then in the former USSR there were four republics that were confidently and professionally pursuing their struggle for independence within the legal framework, through laws — the three Baltic states and… Azerbaijan.
At that time, everything seemed simple and easy in Moscow’s headquarters: troops advancing from three directions, a seaborne landing, the television center blown up, a ban on newspaper distribution to create an information blockade… And in general — what could they do against tanks? For added “persuasiveness,” Mikhail Gorbachev personally launched fake narratives about “Islamic extremists” and an “Islamic coup.”
Indeed, at first everything was staged almost flawlessly — right down to the explosion of the power unit at the television and radio center, carried out by fighters of the special unit “Vympel” in the name of some mythical “extremists.” But…
Memory preserves much from those terrifying days: tank tracks on the asphalt. Blood. Bullet marks on the walls of houses. Ship horns breaking the silence every half hour. And also — carnations. Paths and carpets were laid out of them. They were handed out directly from trucks to those walking to the Alley of Martyrs — two each, heads facing downward. Carnations became a symbol of resistance. They were our weapon. Carnations against tanks — seemingly a fight with no chance even in theory. But that night, we won. We did not bend. We did not retreat. We did not surrender. And afterward, we defended our sovereignty with a firmness and resolve that Moscow had not expected from us. Azerbaijan did not and does not take part in integration projects. Our country does not share its sovereignty. The withdrawal of Russian troops, the closure of the Gabala radar station, even the early end of the peacekeeping operation in Karabakh — much in our contemporary political life traces its origins back to those carnations of Black January, to carnations that proved stronger than tanks.
And it would seem that after 36 years it is time to treat these events as history — recent history, and for many still a matter of personal memory, but history nonetheless. Azerbaijan is recognized as an independent state. We have achieved real sovereignty not only de jure but also de facto. We implemented an independent oil and gas strategy. We carried out an infrastructure revolution. We built a modern, combat-ready army. We solved the main nationwide task — ending the occupation of Karabakh. And it appears that this reality is already acknowledged internationally, including in Russia, whose official delegations, when visiting Azerbaijan, lay ceremonial wreaths at the memorial on the Alley of Martyrs.
Yet Black January is not merely history. It is a warning. Because plans to undermine Azerbaijan’s independence are still being nurtured to the north of our country. One need only recall the recent statements of a Kremlin “talking head” — the philosopher Aleksandr Dugin — who claimed that Russia should not reconcile itself with the sovereignty of Azerbaijan and a number of other states. Plans to occupy Azerbaijan have not disappeared — they are simply not voiced officially, while figures like Solovyov or Dugin are pushed to the forefront.
However much Moscow’s “imperial-minded” circles may wish to turn back time, it is no longer 1990 — and certainly not 1920, when the 11th Army occupied independent Azerbaijan. Old recipes do not work in today’s realities. In fact, they already failed in 1990.
And today, the instruments of resistance to such plans will no longer be carnations alone.
