BY ARDASHES “ARDY” KASSAKHIAN
Every April 24, the Armenian-American community waits for a single word from the White House: genocide. It’s not just a matter of semantics; it’s a matter of historical truth, moral clarity, and political will.
In 2021, President Joe Biden finally uttered the word that every previous president since Ronald Reagan had danced around. Reagan had used it once—briefly, in a proclamation—before the term was exiled to the rhetorical wilderness of euphemisms like “mass atrocities,” “tragedy,” or the ever-popular “Medz Yeghern,” which sounds poetic until you realize it’s Armenian for “Great Crime” and Washington code for “we’re not ready to upset Turkey.” President Donald Trump’s first term in office tracked along this same pattern of evasive and weak statements.
But now Trump is back and his predecessor is already on record having used the G word. So the question looms: Whether President Trump and his White House administration will use the term “genocide” in the anticipated statement this April 24th? And just as importantly, why wouldn’t he?
Donald J. Trump has always prided himself on being the guy who “tells it like it is”—at least according to Donald Trump. He’s shown a flair for bucking diplomatic convention, shrugging off sacred cows, and doing whatever it takes to claim the political upper hand, especially if it means one-upping a rival. So, if he sees that Biden got points for calling the Armenian Genocide what it is, Trump might feel compelled to remind everyone that he could have done it too—bigger and better—and done it first if not for “deep state” interference or some unnamed swamp creature from Foggy Bottom.
Trump also understands the transactional nature of certain voting blocs. The Armenian-American community, particularly in key swing states like Michigan and Pennsylvania, isn’t a demographic to ignore. They’re politically active, engaged, and have long memories. Trump is no stranger to transactional politics—if saying “genocide” gets him praise and possibly even a few more votes in critical elections for members of Congress or the Senate, don’t count it out.
Interestingly, some of the voices orbiting Trump’s political universe have already broken the silence. Figures like Tulsi Gabbard, Vivek Ramaswamy, and even JD Vance have publicly condemned the ethnic cleansing of Armenians in Artsakh (Nagorno-Karabakh) and raised the alarm about Azerbaijan’s aggression, often framing it as part of a broader pattern of anti-Christian persecution. This pro-Christian narrative, which paints Armenians as one of the oldest Christian communities under siege, dovetails neatly with themes Trump has embraced before—defending “Western civilization,” standing up for persecuted Christians, and championing religious freedom as a rallying cry for his base. If someone in his orbit frames the Armenian Genocide as part of a larger story of Christian persecution—past and present—Trump might just find a way to make the word “genocide” sound like something he was always going to say, as long as it came with the right culture war packaging.
There’s also the possibility that Trump, never particularly enamored with NATO or traditional foreign policy alliances, could view Erdogan’s Turkey as less of a strategic partner and more of a geopolitical irritant this time around. He’s already burned bridges with allies for far less. If he’s feeling combative—or bored—he might just call a century-old crime what it was simply to throw a wrench into international expectations.
But even in the theater of Trumpian politics, this isn’t a guaranteed act. For all his unpredictability, Trump has shown a consistent fondness for strongmen—and Erdogan is right in his wheelhouse. When Trump was president, he praised Erdogan often, even reportedly agreeing to help shield a Turkish bank from U.S. prosecution. Recent charges against the Mayor of New York stemming from alleged bribery from Turkish officials were dropped. This and many other examples abound in the Trump administration of his way-too-comfortable relationship with Erdogan. Cozying up to Ankara meant never having to say “genocide,” and that suited everyone just fine—except, of course, the truth.
Trump also tends to view diplomacy through the lens of deal-making. Why give away something for free—like historical acknowledgment—if you’re not getting something in return? Saying “genocide” might feel, to Trump, like a wasted opportunity if it’s not part of a larger “deal.” And let’s face it, he’s not exactly known for doing things out of a sense of moral duty. In fact, he may now see recognizing the Armenian Genocide as a “Biden thing”—something that belongs to the enemy camp. And if there’s one principle Trump clings to more tightly than his red tie, it’s this: never let your opponent’s legacy go unchallenged. In this frame, not saying “genocide” could become a badge of distinction rather than a moral failure.
This stands in stark contrast to Biden’s approach. When Biden used the word “genocide” in 2021, it wasn’t without risk. Turkey, predictably, had a meltdown. But Biden didn’t blink. For all his measured tones and centrist instincts, he made history by being the first sitting president to unequivocally affirm the truth that 1.5 million Armenians were systematically exterminated by the Ottoman Empire. Biden did what decades of presidents—including Obama, who’d promised to do so—didn’t. He said the quiet part out loud. It was a triumph of truth over geopolitics—an act of moral courage wrapped in a brief but powerful presidential statement. And it meant something to Armenians, to the descendants of genocide survivors, to historians, to anyone who understands that unacknowledged atrocities don’t stay in the past—they haunt the present.
Which is why Trump’s potential use—or continued avoidance—of the term carries more weight than some might assume. If he utters the word “genocide” this April 24, it will likely be for reasons far more strategic than sincere. But in politics, motivation often matters less than outcome. For Armenians around the world, hearing the truth spoken aloud—especially by someone so notoriously unconstrained by diplomatic norms—would be both vindicating and surreal. Still, don’t bet on it.
Trump’s brand has never been about historical nuance or moral reckoning. It’s about bravado, vengeance, and self-interest. Unless he sees a clear benefit—or a way to troll Biden—he’ll likely stick to platitudes or skip the April 24th statement altogether. And yet, if there’s one thing we’ve learned from Trump, it’s this: just because he hasn’t done something before doesn’t mean he won’t do it tomorrow, especially if it comes with headlines, heat, and a chance to rewrite the narrative. Until then, the Armenian community watches and waits. Again.
Ardashes “Ardy” Kassakhian is a current council member and former Mayor of Glendale. He is a lecturer and instructor of political science and former Executive Director of the Armenian National Committee of America – Western Region.
