Azerbaijan – Sadness mixed with joy. National pride clouded by deep mourning. Optimism mingled with sorrow for that which has gone and will never return. This is not only the story of Israel, but also of Azerbaijan, which celebrated Republic Day on May 28.
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For 27 years, Azerbaijan has been plagued by a severe refugee crisis that began after the First Nagorno-Karabakh War, which displaced no less than 750,000 people – about 7.5% of the country's total population. Already visible on the outskirts of Baku, on the long journey to Karabakh, are some of the housing solutions proposed by the Azeri government for the many who lost their homes – yet these efforts are not nearly enough. Half a year has passed since the Second Karabakh War, and even before reaching the war-ravaged region, it's clear the general mood is deeply mournful.
Video: Azeri Defense Ministry
At the entrance to each village and each city, a "shahid board" displays the names and portraits of the local residents killed in the war, posted by their relatives. I entered Karabakh by way of the Ağdam district, which, prior to the First Karabakh War, was populated by over 100,000 Azerbaijanis – the absolute majority of the local population. Without them, and with the region under Armenian control since 1994, development projects were expected to gain momentum. The reality, however, defies belief. What I discovered was a strange "recipe" in which a multitude of landmines was mixed with terrorist organization tactics, including a huge complex of combat tunnels, creating a "concoction" in the form of a ghost town, or rather ghost district.
Along the road are signs warning drivers not to venture off the designated path, due to landmines and unexploded bombs. Apparently, the Azeris have not had much success dealing with the huge quantities of landmines placed near the road. Visible everywhere are traces of the tunnel warfare planned by the Armenian army, which eventually backfired.
In the 26 years that passed between the two wars in this now desolate region, the Armenians concentrated on building an immense system of tunnels – the kind of complex that Hezbollah and Hamas can only dream of. The Azeris admitted that although the Israeli-made "Harop" – a "suicidal" unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) – worked "extra hours" in the Ağdam area, with moderate success, they had trouble finding ways to counter the tunnel complex connecting Armenian army posts. In fact, the complex is still there, since the Azeris are unable to physically reach most of the tunnels in order to map them, due to the huge array of landmines planted in the area. Alongside natural flowers, in Karabakh new "flowers" have blossomed – red poles that warn of mines. Such poles are too numerous to be counted.
At the moment of truth, however, the Armenians' lengthy preparations for the Second Karabakh War brought to their own undoing, for one reason: they expected the Azeris to direct all of their military efforts toward Ağdam, believing they wouldn't dare attack Shusha – a historical and strategic city seen as both nations' cultural capital. This is why Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev chose to light the flame celebrating Nowruz in Shusha – clearly intending to emphasize the Azeri victory. While the international community turned its attention to Azerbaijan's use of technological military devices, such as the Harop and the Turkish Bayraktar UAV, Baku's commando forces were sent to scale the mountains – which they did. Their success was crowned by the return of Ağdam to Azerbaijani hands as part of the ceasefire agreement.
However, Ağdam was emptied not only of its people but of almost everything else as well. Houses, buildings, institutions, and museums were razed. "They demolished buildings and sold the construction materials to the Iranians," said a senior Azeri official. House after house, building after building were destroyed in a seemingly "aesthetic" manner: a vanished wall here, three walls torn down there. This doesn't look like damage caused by shelling.
In one of the demolished mosques in the district, two details stand out in particular: animal excrement covering the entrance yard, and piles of straw spread inside the mosque and set on fire. In none of Israel's wars with Muslim states was such damage caused to mosques for no tactical or strategic reason – certainly not for the sake of malicious destruction. In Karabakh, out of nearly 70 mosques that remained standing after the First Karabakh War, only one is left. In the nearby cemetery, one can see the revolting sight of smashed Muslim tombstones and open graves.
The prominent feature of the only mosque left standing is what is missing from it – it bears no Muslim characteristics besides its architecture. Apparently, during the war its minarets were used as military positions. After President Aliyev brought a Quran to the mosque, sent specially for the occasion from Saudi Arabia, it has again become a place of worship, though the destruction in and around it is vast. As for the cultural life that thrived here but is no more, the most conspicuous ruin is the Bread Museum.

The museum was built by the Soviets at great cost; the only thing left is a wall decorated with Soviet motifs. If you're looking for an Israeli connection, this year Maccabi Tel Aviv played against Azeri Karabakh in a Europa League match. Until the first war, Karabakh played in Ağdam; after the war, it moved to Baku. Under Armenian rule the Ağdam football stadium was destroyed almost beyond recognition.
I traveled a total of 1,350 km in two days through this foreign land, from Baku to Karabakh. That's 2.59 times the distance from Eilat to Metula. That distance is one of the major obstacles Baku faces in its attempts to restore Karabakh as quickly as possible. In addition, the state of the roads in Karabakh is extremely poor, making the task of transporting concrete and infrastructure materials particularly difficult.
After passing several trucks laboring along the roads of another region in Karabakh, Fuzuli, I arrived at an Armenian outpost that has barely been touched. Climbing a hill, I saw traces of the life that had been lived here before the great destruction caused by the war. Spoons littering the ground, folded army uniforms, remnants of military vehicles, and many dozens of weapon crates in an outpost considered by the Armenians as a strategic position. "A heavy battle was fought here," say the locals, "with many dead on both sides."
Strewn throughout the outpost rooms are mattresses, cupboards, chairs. Routine outpost conditions, like those familiar from the IDF. Less familiar are the amounts of energy drink cans scattered around on the sand. Apparently, they were consumed by the militants trying to stay awake for long hours. Then I came across a scene attesting to the quality of Israeli weaponry and its contribution to Azerbaijan's victory in the war: a Spike missile had been shot at a tank, hitting it precisely between the turret and the hull – causing the turret to simply detach and fall to the side.
Not far geographically, but very far in terms of travel time, is one of President Aliyev's most ambitious projects for restoring Karabakh: the new Fuzuli airport, now under construction and scheduled to open for cargo flights as early as this September. Local and foreign workers are busy clearing landmines, laying infrastructure, and building walls. When I arrived, the runway was already being paved, and the location of the future terminal could be clearly made out.

A small distance from the Fuzuli airport lies the city of Fuzuli. Its condition is just as bleak – even, one could say, exceptional. In this ghost town, green, wonderfully fragrant jasmine shrubs grow among beautiful architectural creations, which can be enjoyed despite the city's devastation. On the sides of the main road of what remains of the city I spotted a mortar firing position. Some of the mortar shells had been launched, others hadn't; standing there, I couldn't be sure whether there were any unfused bombs lying around me, liable to explode at any moment.
The reason that the state of Fuzuli's main road is tolerable and not surrounded by landmines is that the Armenians held a major outpost in the area, situated in the yard of a large house. In the house and in others nearby are entrances into the local tunnel complex, which may or may not be planted with an unknown number of landmines. A silent witness remains in the area – a fountain with no water, of which nothing is left besides its beauty.
After we passed through Jabrayil, another ghost town, I arrived at the last stop of my journey through Karabakh: the district of Zangilan, one of the most volatile hotspots in this already volatile region. Zangilan is a district in Karabakh that borders on both Armenia and Iran, and is the starting point of the Naxçıvan Corridor. The corridor, established as part of the ceasefire agreement, is a narrow strip connecting the Naxçıvan Autonomous Republic with Azerbaijan.
As part of my reporting mission, the Azeri police, who were aware of my arrival, accompanied me to the Iranian border – but at no point was I told, "don't go there" or "don't photograph here." Naturally, I published my impressions from the Iranian border in Israel Hayom, expecting an enraged Iranian reaction. What I did not anticipate was the wrath unleashed on me by the Armenian media. One outlet suggested I had connections with the Mossad. For the time being, at least, I have no such connections; on the contrary, on the day after my visit to Zangilan the Armenians opened fire into the area. Is there any relation between the two events? That question will have to be answered by Yerevan.
What is certain is that restoration works are in full swing in Baku, where authorities say they would welcome foreign involvement in all areas. It is no secret that Israeli companies have offered to assist in rebuilding Karabakh. In the year marking the 30th anniversary of the launching of diplomatic relations between Israel and Azerbaijan, perhaps it is precisely the region's severe condition, weary with death and suffering, that can lead to new collaborative achievements. Only time will tell.
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