Trump Vowed to Protect Armenia’s Christians. He Can Start Here.

To give you a sense of Aurora’s work, here’s a quick sketch of the people it has honored since 2016: a Tutsi woman in Burundi who rescued Hutu victims there; an American physician in the Nuba mountains in Sudan who treated patients in that remote killing ground; a Rohingya Muslim lawyer who protected his people during the slaughter in Myanmar; a Yazidi activist who rescued kinsmen being murdered by the Islamic State; two Somali women who saved victims of sexual violence in Mogadishu, and a woman activist and a doctor, both Congolese, who saved rape victims.

I can remember each of these people as they took the stage at the Aurora awards ceremony. They were often awkward, with little experience speaking in public, unaccustomed to taking credit for their work. Each year, I would come away from these ceremonies grateful for the enduring, inexplicable goodness in the human spirit that produces heroes like these. Vardanyan and the other two Aurora co-founders, the late Carnegie Corp. president Vartan Gregorian and Moderna co-founder Noubar Afeyan, were always humble in the presence of these humanitarians.

Vardanyan’s trial began a week ago in Baku. Azerbaijan has brought 46 charges against him, ranging from terrorism to organized crime. But his troubles really stem from his decision to move to Karabakh in 2022 and become a senior minister in the breakaway government there, as well as an outspoken defender of the Armenian population. Throwing himself into this vortex was dangerous. But Vardanyan told his daughter that he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t try to help fellow Armenians who have suffered so many tragedies in their history. It was gratitude in action.

Disaster followed. Azerbaijan imposed a blockade in December 2022, starving Karabakh of medicine, fuel and other essentials. Armenians tried to protect their homes, families and churches. But when Azerbaijan’s military invaded in September 2023 they fled, leaving the region ethnically “cleansed.” Vardanyan has been in an Azerbaijani prison cell ever since, along with three former presidents of Karabakh.

“Ruben was obsessed about saving Karabakh’s Armenian character, and he paid with his freedom for that dedication,” says his friend Vahan Zanoyan, an Armenian American energy consultant who now lives in Armenia. Ten days before Azerbaijan’s invasion, Zanoyan phoned and urged Vardanyan to leave. He refused. Zanoyan texted him again as troops entered Karabakh’s capital. By then, it was too late.

An Amnesty International official said last month that Vardanyan’s case “has raised serious allegations of human rights violations which include ill-treatment in detention, being coerced to sign falsified case materials and denied the opportunity to prepare his defense.” The statement by Marie Struthers, the group’s director for Eastern Europe and Central Asia, urged: “The international community must closely monitor this high-profile case, to ensure Ruben Vardanyan’s fair trial rights and justice.”