For most Armenian immigrants to the US, it is quite likely that American life offers a higher material standard of living and more access to vastly greater opportunities. If that weren’t broadly true, people wouldn’t emigrate there. It is no less true that the relative poverty and ongoing demographic implosion of Armenia can be crushing, and that daily life there for a great many people is closer to the problems of basic survival than the life of most Americans. That’s fairly self-evident.
Still, from the year and a half that I’ve spent in Armenia, if I had a 10 dram coin for every time I’ve heard from native Armenians that America is the promised land of high dollars and low worries, or that I’ve heard righteously indignant gripes about stingy relatives in the US who “only” send a few hundred dollars in monthly remittance, or “you’re American, what’s a hundred dollars to you?”, or (my favourite) “isn’t everything cheaper in America?”, I’d be a billionaire (in dollars). I could get my own faux Sphinx, or Egyptian pyramid, or something on a highway on the outskirts of Yerevan.
As a first-generation immigrant to the US, and an experienced traveler to the so-called “developing world”, I’d like to address some of the myths held by Armenians, be it that life in the US is convenient and comfortable, or that their US-side relatives, with the pocket change they send back to tatik, have crossed to the dark side of unconscienable avarice and forgotten the meaning of family.
I’m not passing judgement on whether anyone should emigrate. However, if you’re going to try to emigrate, it’s better to do it with some realism about what to expect, and some appreciation for the complexity encountered in trying to make meaningful comparisons between life there and life back home. Like many people, Armenians have a tendency to compare the worst aspects of life in Armenia with the best aspects of life in America, or elsewhere abroad. Yes, being young, healthy and rich in America is better than being poor, sick and aging in Armenia, no doubt. But it’s not an accurate or reasonable comparison.
Mind you, this is not some myopic apologia full of First World Problems, to tell native Armenians how hard life is for us in one of the world’s richest countries. I’m not here to share the horror of a broken espresso machine or Banana Republic being out of khakis (with apologies to George Carlin). You can put the world’s tiniest violin away.
The US has always done an excellent job of marketing itself as the promised land, and the global reach of its mass-cultural and media exports to support that narrative is unrivaled. So, I don’t really need to tell you what is potentially good about it. Instead, I’ll speak to the more ambiguous notes.
Jobs and immigration
If you’re not earning well in Armenia because you don’t have any specialised skills or education, you’re going to face the same problem anywhere else; wages for unskilled labour are low everywhere.
As hundreds of thousands of Armenian migrant workers in Russia know, a blue-collar labourers can still fetch superior (relative to Armenia) wages during boom times, particularly in construction and industrial labour. However, this is not a realistic vehicle for emigration to the US for two reasons:
- The criteria for immigration: the US has plenty of unskilled manual labourers, both domestic and immigrant (legal and illegal). It has absolutely no incentive to let any more of them in, and US employers can’t sponsor a pair of hands and a strong back for a visa.
- The sheer expense of life in the US, where a great deal of costs, such as healthcare, are borne directly by the consumer. Some of these are covered at least rudimentarily by state infrastructure or held down by free-market pricing elsewhere. In other words, I would contend that earning little in the US by US standards can be riskier and more problematic than earning little by Russian or Armenian standards in Russia or Armenia. We’ll return to that topic later.
Russia has a (somewhat) common market with Armenia and is politically motivated to offer an inclusive attitude to CIS guest workers. This is not so for the US.
Some Armenians I’ve met seem to be under the impression that if they just had an axperes in California that could hook them up with a job at his auto shop, the visa and immigration issues will solve themselves. This is completely false. While knowing people and having connections is useful anywhere, overall the US economy, along with its immigration system, are fairly transparent and follow the law strictly. Moreover, it is important to remember that the US is very large, very diverse, and not run by Armenians–who represent a tiny and insignificant minority. Nobody there can just “arrange” it all for you unless you meet official immigration criteria. It doesn’t work like that.
If you’re a highly skilled, educated professional, presumably you have or will attempt to solve this problem in advance of emigrating, and you might be successful. Even so, there are a few things to keep in mind. Armenians specialise highly in urbane intellectualism and their diaspora has a high proportion of academics. This should not be confused with a high availability of academic jobs, especially in the liberal arts and humanities. Funding for that sort of thing is quite slim by developed-world standards. While professors are generally compensated well in the US, the number of available tenure-track positions, or even full-time instructorships, is small and shrinking.
The cost-saving approach of American universities is not so much to pay professors little as it is to eliminate their positions and replace them with part-time graduate teaching assistants and part-time instructors–expendable armies of people who are paid measly wages (effectively below minimum wage) a la carte (by the course), with no job security or benefits.
Competition, and the harsh office politics that come with it, is formidable, because even in this sweatshop atmosphere, graduate students need teaching hours. Your formal credentials may not carry over to the American system, which means you’ll be disadvantaged in competing with 26-year old second-year graduate students for the opportunity to provide essentially free labour to this system.
In the large public university that I attended, easily 80% of my courses were taught by graduate students not much older than I was. Needless to say, teaching quality is not a major preoccupation of the American university system.
That’s all to say that I wouldn’t count on an academic route in. It’s not impossible; in fact, it’s the one my parents took. But they had to step down from top-tier Moscow professorships to repeat graduate school for six years, then beat very low job market and employer sponsorship odds to stay. I wouldn’t have bet on us. We just got lucky. A lot of it probably owes itself to the unique boom times of the nineties.
Objectively speaking, the people in the best position to emigrate to the US, with employer sponsorship, are probably highly-skilled professionals in the private sector. Even so, the quotas on H1B visas are highly restrictive. In the tech sector, at least, there is widespread agreement that the part of the US immigration system that deals with legal immigration of high-skill professionals is in badly in need of reform.
The costs of life
It’s fairly obvious that the absolute cost of living in the US, and in Western countries in general, is higher than in Armenia. Native Armenians recognise this in abstract, but many seem to lack the perspective to apply that knowledge concretely to any given situation.
Let’s say an Armenian family of three or four gets by in Yerevan, somehow, on roughly US$900/mo. They hear that their cousin and his wife in Fresno pull in a household income of US$95,000 (roughly US$7900/mo). So, they figure, “How much more expensive could it be? Twice? Three times? How stingy do you have to be to only send back $300 every month while we’re working twelve hours a day, six days per week, to make ends meet with $900?” It seems to be human nature to figure: “If I had that kind of money, I’d find a way. How expensive could it be?”
That’s because, at some level, most people think that if they can get by on $900, then anything over that–or at least half of anything over that–is, in some shape or form, “extra” or “disposable”, even taking into account the theoretical recognition of higher living costs. The higher costs don’t concretely register, mostly because people don’t know what they are.
Cost of living differential is a fluid concept that presents in many different forms. First, there are the exact same or substantially similar things, but which simply cost more in, say, Fresno–maybe a little more, maybe a lot more. Then, there are the things that are of the same category but are qualitatively incommensurable in some way, so it’s difficult to meaningfully compare their price. There are also things that are free or close to free in Armenia but cost money in the States. As well, there are substantial differences in anticipated risk and statistical incidence of certain expenses.
The point is, one cannot simply compare prices straight across. It is important to holistically understand the overall differences in the available lifestyle options, as well as the categories of expenditures that are structurally, legally or culturally particular to the respective locales. In many cases, they are very specific to the exact socioeconomic terms of a given place. In other words, you’re not going to buy the same things in the US that you do in Yerevan; they’ll neither be the same products or services, nor identical categories of outlays. It’s not intelligible to conceptualise a monthly budget in Fresno in everyday Yerevan terms, though that doesn’t stop many people from doing exactly that.
I don’t know who seeded this meme that Americans pay low taxes. I’ve heard it repeated a number of times in casual conversations with Armenians.
Average American salary and wage employees pay a tax rate that is typical of the developed world, and is fairly comparable, in the aggregate, to the 35-45% that most Western Europeans pay, though, of course, that varies by country. A rigourous comparative analysis of international taxation could easily consume a whole dissertation in itself, and I don’t have data handy. In some respects, US taxes are indeed lower than European ones: marginal tax rates are unquestionably much lower. On the other hand, marginal US corporate income tax rates are some of the highest in the developed world.
The main difference is that the US is, by “First World” standards, very jurisdictionally fragmented, owing to its unique fixation with federalism. The aggregate individual tax burden in the US doesn’t come from one national-level tax authority. There are several different kinds of federal taxes, all assessed at different rates, limits and progressive brackets. There are state-level income taxes. Some counties (administrative divisions of states) have special income taxes. Some cities, such as New York City, have municipal income taxes. In addition to that, there are sales taxes (varying by county and state), property taxes (a very substantial source of local government funding), excise taxes, and gasoline taxes, and for business owners and self-employed individuals, a variety of other kinds of taxes. Most of these are assessed in a complex cascade by a zoo of separate agencies at the state, federal and municipal level, all with their own rules, forms, courts, collection practices, and so on. It’s all quite Byzantine.
This fragmentation makes it difficult to add up one’s aggregate tax burden, but if one does, one will find that it’s not substantially out of line with Western Europe. The difference is that the Western European taxpayer receives an abundance of social benefits and subsidies for it. In the US, there is no free healthcare, free university education, or free housing. From that point of view, the US is one of the most expensive jurisdictions in the “First World”; you have to pay both sides!
It’s virtually impossible to compute exactly how much our hypothetical Fresno family earning $95,000 will pay in taxes, because nobody pays the same amount in taxes. It greatly depends on whether they file jointly or separately, whether they have children, and if so, how many, and many other factors. California state income tax is deductible from the federal taxable income, and so on, but not from the 7.5% that they contribute toward federal payroll taxes (Medicare & Social Security). Without running all those numbers, together with the particulars of their withholding allowances, it’s not easy to arrive at a figure. Nevertheless, a very rough estimation for a single individual making $95,000 and filing as single in California puts total tax at around $33,000, or roughly 35%. This, of course, is just state and federal taxes, and does not include local sales tax (which, in California, varies from 7.5% to 10%), nor any possible property taxes, vehicle registration taxes, and a variety of other taxes that, when added up, will certainly push the tax burden past 40%.
But even with our 35% figure, you can expect take-home income off $95,000 to drop to $62,000 or so, which is not so much $7900/mo as $5100/mo. Not a small difference! It is certainly not outside the realm of possibility for one to pay close to half one’s income in taxes. For a variety of reasons related to the intricacies of tax codes at a variety of levels, most Americans don’t end up paying quite that much, but a lot of the professional middle class comes close. The point is: don’t jump to conclusions from sensational, eye-popping gross figures.
Housing, real estate and rents
According to the US Census Bureau, 2013 Median Gross Rent in 2013 was US $905. That may not seem like so much, but that’s a median across the country as a whole.
However, the US is a very large and decentralised country, and there are plenty of inexpensive rural areas, as well as blighted post-industrial places, where housing is cheap. That doesn’t mean you want to live there. The jobs are fewer and the incomes are lower, too.
All in all, I think a little Googling will persuade one that housing in the kinds of places where most Armenians would want to live and seem to agglomerate, e.g. southern California, is a matter of at least $1200/mo, and very possibly closer to $2000/mo or beyond.
Armenians, like other ex-Soviet people, are in a globally unique position of benefiting from the privatisation of real estate after the collapse of the USSR. Simply, if you had an apartment at the time the USSR dissolved, you got to keep it; it was gifted to you as private property. It became a source of wealth on which many people rely. It is common for Armenians to own the home in which they live, even if they are likely to be living there with extended family. The fact that most of them don’t have a mortgage or rent to pay explains how they can get by on such low wages.
The fact is, if you have an apartment in Yerevan, you’ve got a roof. It may not be a good roof, but it’s a roof. You can rent it out to other people, as many do to supplement their monthly income. It may not be much, but it’s something. Other Soviet people benefited from privatisation much more; people fortunate enough to own Moscow apartments genuinely came to sit on some wealth, both from rental and liquidation.
Armenians are sometimes under the impression that lots of Americans own houses, too. This is a misapprehension; Very few Americans own homes free and clear. Lots of Americans have purchased financed houses, usually on 15 or 30-year mortgage loan terms. While the interest rates are low by present-day Armenian standards, the post-recessionary credit environment has contracted and it has become harder to get a mortgage.
The point is that almost all Americans pay rent or a mortgage in order to have a roof. It’s usually their biggest expense, and frequently a large proportion of their income. The processes of civil law operate quite expediently; if you don’t pay, you will be evicted, or your home will be repossessed by the bank and auctioned off. This is something that many Armenians are unaccustomed to considering, since a good many of them live in apartments inherited through post-Soviet privatisation and/or through family.
Credit and debt is a way of life in America, especially for big-ticket items. Few homes or cars are bought in cash. That may seem like a good thing–it makes things more affordable and at more realistic rates than in Armenia. However, as with any leverage, prices rose to reflect the widespread availability of credit (a consequence that monetary stimulus policy relies upon), which means most people need credit to buy things that they could not conceivably afford in cash. For quite some time now, credit has not been merely a tool to make it easier to afford some things, but rather the only means of obtaining them at all for average-earning people. That means that unless you become wealthy by American standards, you might be able to buy a house, and if you do, you’ll be in enormous debt for what is, by most people’s standards, a close-enough approximation of forever. You can sell a house to get out of that obligation, but clearing what you owe the bank is your problem and your risk. The recent housing recession should serve to remind that housing is not such a dependable store of wealth.
Many would say that against the background of the state of the Armenian economy, it is an enviable luxury to even be in a position to contemplate optimal stores of wealth or weigh the downsides of credit, as a member of a sizable middle class. I don’t disagree. The point of this article is not to convince you that, from a material point of view, life in the US is as bad or worse than life in Armenia. Instead, I want to put emphasis on things that are typically underemphasised by starry-eyed aspiring emigrants who imagine life abroad to be a panacea. Life in wealthier countries brings problems and stresses of its own.
Among Armenians’ chief complaints is the high cost of healthcare relative to local incomes, and understandably so–it’s high. Nevertheless, Armenia has a largely free market in healthcare; payments are direct from patient to medical provider, and so prices are constrained by what the market will directly bear. Healthcare is a price-inelastic service, and so the prices the market will bear–grudgingly–are quite high. Nevertheless, there is a quantitative limit to the madness.
I don’t think any immigrant to the US can be fully prepared for the disaster that is the healthcare system. Simply put, it has neither the virtues of prices held down by supply and demand, nor the virtues of a state-operated or single-payer socialised healthcare model that predominates in Western Europe and elsewhere in the developed world. Instead, the US has managed to achieve the worst of all worlds: all downsides, no upside. Astounding inflation in the market is caused by the distortions of an intermediate bureaucracy of private insurers, rendering it ipso facto unaffordable without insurance. At the same time, the system is highly inefficient, having the highest proportion of medical expenditures going to nonmedical purposes (e.g. administration, marketing, legal costs) in the developed world.
Most nontrivial medical procedures and hospitalisations cost tens of thousands of dollars. A serious illness will incur hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical billing, and very serious illnesses likely well into the millions. If you’re fortunate enough to have a health insurance policy through your employer, which is the normal mechanism for obtaining health insurance in the US, these fees are billed to your insurer, who will do anything they can to get out of paying the claim. The Affordable Care Act (“Obamacare”) reforms have seemingly put an end to the most audaciously hostile aspects of this (huge departments in every insurance company dedicated to finding “preexisting conditions” on the basis of which to reject your claim, leaving you responsible for the fees), but it remains to be seen whether these reforms will survive future legal challenges by conservative (i.e. pro-big business) political forces.
Plenty of other caveats that can lead to your insurance claim being rejected remain, the main one at this point being that insurers typically will cover what they consider to be medically necessary, which is often the bare minimum of indicated treatment. Anything beyond that is “elective” (a.k.a. superfluous and unnecessary) and they are not obligated to cover it. It’s true that any system with cost controls imposed by a third party, such as state-operated socialised healthcare systems in Europe, must limit what medical providers will do for a patient in a given scenario. However, I think you’ll find that in the US, the resulting mixture is especially perverse; very often, unnecessary procedures and tests (which pad doctors’ pockets) are easily approved, while procedures that would be deemed medically essential elsewhere are treated as elective and denied.
Regardless of whether you have insurance, you will share in these inflated costs. The sharing doesn’t end with high premiums (which have gotten significantly higher since the ACA came about), but also a maze of other mechanisms insurers use to defray some of their financial risk directly onto you (but on the cost basis of the severe inflation they themselves helped create): deductibles, copays and coinsurance ratios, which vary considerably with type of medical service or procedure.
Simply having insurance by itself means little; it all depends on what kind of insurance. The vast majority of Americans do have private health insurance of some sort, yet 60% is a well-accepted figure for the percentage of personal bankruptcies attributable to medical bills.
Analysis of the myriad of pathologies of the American healthcare system would take a lengthy book. Once upon a time, insurance was–as most insurance is in any other sphere–for low-probability, high-magnitude catastrophic events only. Over time, it seems to have evolved into a payment gateway for all medical procedures, period, including the most routine care. Along with a panoply of other factors, such as the absence of heavyhanded government price controls or regulation of the business side of healthcare, this enabled enormous inflation, since insurance spreads the cost around.
The economic aspect important for the potential immigrant to realise is that the only people in the US that have access to good healthcare they can afford are:
- Affluent white-collar professionals working for large private companies that provide generous nonsalary benefits;
- Employees in the government sector (state or federal);
- Those fortunate enough to work in unionised professions (far less common in the US than in many other developed countries, and varies highly by region) who happen to have negotiated good benefits;
- People over 65 years of age, who receive Medicare (ironically, very functional socialised healthcare);
- Very low-income people who meet stringent criteria for Medicaid;
- Military veterans;
- Miscellaneous wealthy or semi-wealthy individuals.
Most of the American public does not fit into these categories, and this includes many people you would be moved to otherwise describe as middle class. Statistically speaking, medical bills will probably be a problem for you, too.
Yes, I know that the comparatively “inexpensive” medicine in Armenia is equally unaffordable to a population whose median monthly wage is just under US$300. Nevertheless, I would contend that there’s something to be said for owing hundreds or thousands of dollars rather than a quarter million–a very real concern in a place where a short ambulance ride can cost nearly US $2000. American healthcare bills are not in sums you can somehow borrow from family or friends. I suspect one reason why the TV series Breaking Bad had such uptake is that it resonated with a lot of people. It’s not such a stretch for most Americans to imagine that running a methamphetamine drug empire would be the only way for an ordinary schoolteacher to afford treatment of his lung cancer and ensure his family’s financial security.
Suburbia, layout, and transportation
The US economy is highly decentralised and has an excellent roadway network for distribution. Outside of a few older cities such as New York, it is mostly laid out in a monotonous, low-density, suburban architectural pattern. The vast majority of the American population lives in a landscape consisting of freestanding houses, roadways, and utilitarian shopping areas with large parking lots. Because the density is low, the driving distances are quite typically rather high. Americans spend more time commuting to work than almost anyone on Earth. In many places, there are no foot paths, and in many other places where they do exist, they are a strict formality, with nary a pedestrian in sight. One could not be blamed for coming away with the impression that cars are first-class objects on the American terra firma, while pedestrians are distinctly second.
You might think I’m describing the countryside and rural areas, but no. In fact, this is all true even in places that nominally market themselves as “cities”. All of the major growing “cities” of the Sun Belt, such as Dallas, Phoenix, Houston, Los Angeles, Atlanta and Miami, which developed in the postwar automobile boom, are in fact little more than vast agglomerations of bland suburban tract, separated by vast lengths of highway. Sometimes they’re wrapped around a small, central urban core, but in most cases that’s just a small financial district, or a depressed post-industrial nexus of economic decay. Either way, most of the population doesn’t live there, and these cores are neither a central feature of American aspirations nor of life in this country.
This has certain upsides. It theory, it allows one to feel as if one lives in the peaceful retreat of the countryside while having the amenities of a nearby conurbation. This might seem like a refreshing prospect to someone who has lived amidst the constant din and crowds of Yerevan their entire life.
The decentralised infrastructure and penetrating roadway network required to support this also gives rise to equalisation and homogeneity. The material level of life in Evergreen, Alabama isn’t really that different from life in New York City. Sure, it’s definitely different, but the differences are mostly a matter of small nuances. Broadly, you have access to essentially the same supply chains of commoditised groceries, fuel, medicine and services in the countryside as you do in a megapolis. This is rather different from most of the rest of the world, including Armenia, where everyone knows there’s Yerevan, and there’s not-Yerevan, and the developmental chasm between them can sometimes seem to be almost be measurable in centuries, depending on where exactly you go. Much of the US is very homogenous in both practical and aesthetic terms. You’ll have to come to New York for world-class neurosurgery, but you can drive on good roads, go bowling, and go to the same supermarket and buy the same Cheetos pretty much anywhere, even in the tiniest hamlet.
So, people are always surprised when I lean on this aspect of the US critically, as a primary reason for low quality of life. It’s a topic that receives so little attention it may as well be categorised as “a problem that has no name”. The reality, however, is that the impact of this way of designing the world goes far beyond mere aesthestics–which, by the way, are terrible; the suburban landscape is unrivaled in its monotony and depressing blandness. The problem is more insidious, though; the way that we build our settlements has deep implications for our civic life, our communities, our patterns of interaction, the relationships we form, the company we keep, and ultimately, the purpose and meaning we find in our lives.
Much of the rest of the world takes for granted architectural principles of how to build life-affirming human settlements. These principles evolved over thousands of years, and it’s no accident that so many cultures reached the same conclusions. Urban Europeans, and indeed Armenians, are accustomed to vertical growth, mixed-use development (shops on first floor, apartments above), sidewalks, plazas, public squares and street cafes. These are the fixtures amidst which your halcyon childhood days played out, where you walked hand in hand with your first love, where you met friends for coffee, and hopped the train to work. It’s the corner with the pastry shop, it’s the supermarket down the street, and the bench in between.
Few people can prepare themselves for the degree to which Americans have, in the last half-century or so, taken this entire corpus of human experience and thrown it completely into the trash, with the exception of a few older cities–not the places where the majority of Americans live. What has replaced it is a surreal moonscape. For those accustomed to the traditional urban civilisation, the primary question in America is: where do I go? What do I do? Looking around leads to an intangible but intense realisation of emptiness. Suburbia is both a cause and an effect of the destruction of civic and community life in America: there’s increasingly little to come home to, and vanishingly little to go out to. This has real effects. Your children will have nowhere to play, as there is no courtyard full of friends; they will depend on your willingness to drive them (sometimes quite far) for prearranged “play dates”. You will not take leisurely strolls to admire the scenery, for there is neither admirable scenery nor anywhere to stroll. It’s likely that you won’t even know your neighbours. You certainly can’t venture downstairs for lettuce or milk; strict zoning codes have ensured that only residential structures can be built where you live, and you’ll have to drive a few miles to reach the commercial zone, where the grocery stores are.
The architect James Howard Kunstler does a good job of anatomising the essential problems of suburbia in this TED talk. I don’t necessarily share all of his ideological accents, but I think he’s summed up the general problem very nicely. The thing you have to realise when watching that video is that he’s not talking about a particular kind of neighbourhood; he’s talking about the overwhelming majority of the US, including places others are accustomed to thinking of as cities. Dallas, for instance, is not a city by the global standards. Much of it should probably be reclassified as a rural area.
In this atmosphere, the almighty car–still a matter of social status, prestige and perceived convenience in Armenia–falls from grace. It’s no longer a luxurious way to thumb your nose at the teeming masses. You are one of the teeming masses. A lot of your energy and money and will go toward the purchase and upkeep of a rapidly depreciating hunk of metal in which you will spend a significant fraction of your life, all alone. It’s only cool when most people don’t have one; when four wheels have replaced two feet, it’s just a needlessly expensive way to traverse pointlessly large distances of identical-looking road for unclear reasons.
It should go without saying that public transportation doesn’t exist in the US–at least, not by European standards. Unless you live in New York City, or well within the centres of Chicago or one or two other cities, you’ll need a car, and you’ll be spending a lot of time in it. Guaranteed.
For a culture as warm and sociable as that of Armenians, this is all anathema. Truly committed people can maintain friendships and connections across the most hostile landscapes, but so much of how we meet and relate to others is inextricably bound up in the convenience and opportunity in how we are situated. Physical layout cannot, by itself, either make one friends or hinder those who are determined to have them anyway. But it does matter. A lot.
Therefore, I’m moved to say that one of the most important things about the US is that it’s lonely. They built it that way.
No list of American peculiarities can be complete without due mention of its legal system.
The US is not the only country to have a Byzantine legal code or statutes both complex and numerous, although both of those things are certainly true. Compared to the rest of the developed world, the US criminal justice system is harsh and metes out severe sentences. It often seems to have more punitive than rehabilitative aims, and this is, in general, politically rewarded, fed by intense “get tough on crime” populism. It’s aggravated by what might be described as a “prison-industrial complex” of legislative machinery and lobbying–one that extends to and encapsulates vested law enforcement institutions. It is a major contributor to the result that the US has the highest incarceration rate in the world. Not the developed world. The whole world.
In addition, there are some eccentricities of Anglo-American common law that people coming from a CIS legal system are sure to find bewildering. One is the enormous amount of personal discretion that is afforded to prosecutors and other individual actors in a criminal case. In many other countries, there are statutes that clearly outline the process a state prosecutor must follow. In the US, a lot more depends on the whims of the concrete personalities involved.
For instance, over 90% of American criminal cases are settled by “plea bargaining”, a technique where the accused and the prosecutor make a deal to exchange the accused’s guilty plea for reduced charges. That is to say, the prosecution is allowed to literally change the accusation being made from the same body of evidence: “Instead of felony armed robbery, we are going to charge you with a misdemeanour of ‘disturbing the peace’.” The official argument for this practice is that it saves public resources by avoiding the expense and complexity of a trial.
Naturally, this flexibility leads to inflated charges that the prosecution cannot support in a real trial. The prosecution gambles that the defendant will be intimidated by the worst-case possibility of conviction for grandiose charges, and will settle for the certainty of conviction on lesser charges over the uncertainty of conviction on bigger ones. The prosecution gets a higher conviction rate, which is politically beneficial. The effect is class-discriminatory: well-heeled defendants who can afford good legal representation, post a bail-bond and have time on their hands will fight the prosecution, while poorer defendants will fold and settle.
By American lights, this passes for justice, which leads to a larger and more important point: the US criminal justice system is overwhelmingly preoccupied with procedure and process, often at the expense of justice. This myopia is the product of a technocratic bureaucracy. It’s summed up nicely in a New Yorker article called “The Caging of America”:
William J. Stuntz, a professor at Harvard Law School who died shortly before his masterwork, “The Collapse of American Criminal Justice,” was published, last fall, is the most forceful advocate for the view that the scandal of our prisons derives from the Enlightenment-era, “procedural” nature of American justice. He runs through the immediate causes of the incarceration epidemic: the growth of post-Rockefeller drug laws, which punished minor drug offenses with major prison time; “zero tolerance” policing, which added to the group; mandatory-sentencing laws, which prevented judges from exercising judgment. But his search for the ultimate cause leads deeper, all the way to the Bill of Rights. In a society where Constitution worship is still a requisite on right and left alike, Stuntz startlingly suggests that the Bill of Rights is a terrible document with which to start a justice system—much inferior to the exactly contemporary French Declaration of the Rights of Man, which Jefferson, he points out, may have helped shape while his protégé Madison was writing ours.
The trouble with the Bill of Rights, he argues, is that it emphasizes process and procedure rather than principles. The Declaration of the Rights of Man says, Be just! The Bill of Rights says, Be fair! Instead of announcing general principles—no one should be accused of something that wasn’t a crime when he did it; cruel punishments are always wrong; the goal of justice is, above all, that justice be done—it talks procedurally. You can’t search someone without a reason; you can’t accuse him without allowing him to see the evidence; and so on. This emphasis, Stuntz thinks, has led to the current mess, where accused criminals get laboriously articulated protection against procedural errors and no protection at all against outrageous and obvious violations of simple justice. You can get off if the cops looked in the wrong car with the wrong warrant when they found your joint, but you have no recourse if owning the joint gets you locked up for life. You may be spared the death penalty if you can show a problem with your appointed defender, but it is much harder if there is merely enormous accumulated evidence that you weren’t guilty in the first place and the jury got it wrong.
Plenty of immigrants inadvertently get into legal trouble in the US because they fail to realise how much the system is focused on the correctness of process rather than the holistic propriety–and indeed, the humanity–of the outcome. Such concerns are far too “interpretive” to enter into anyone’s mind. The contemporary incarnation of the peculiar mindset of Anglo-American jurisprudence leads to the question, “Were the rights of all parties, as enumerated by the law, protected?”, eclipsing the much larger issue: “Is this outcome compatible with justice?”
For instance, I have known Soviet immigrants who got into serious legal problems because of family and child custody-related problems. In one case, a mother was prosecuted with felony kidnapping for taking her child from a husband who himself had fled with the child, and who obviously had malevolent motives and committed extensive fraud. Common sense should say that she had understandable reasons for doing that. The American system says she interfered with a custody order (that he had supposedly obtained somewhere) and thus committed kidnapping.
In the graduate family housing community where I grew up, I seemed to have been one of few ex-Soviet children whose parents somehow avoided charges of child neglect. All of our parents were busy graduate students who worked all day and all night, and none of them knew that in the State of Indiana, it is illegal to leave a child under 12 years old home alone. In our home countries, schoolchildren of single-digit age routinely commuted to and from school alone. We were in a safe, enclosed community with an abundance of constant adult supervision from stay-at-home mothers; common sense should say that this is not child neglect, in that the parents’ intentions were not negligent, and us latchkey kids were not, in fact, being neglected. The authorities were not concerned with that; leaving a child under 12 home alone meets the statutory definition of child neglect, therefore it’s child neglect–end of story. There was no allowance for mitigating factors.
I don’t think this rigidity should be confused with effectiveness or precision. It’s not the same as a Germanic fastidiousness for law and order or attention to detail. German courts still consider the issue of whether a verdict and a sentence is consistent with the spirit or intent of the law. One of the key functions of a judge is to interpret that in a given scenario. American authorities are zealously preoccupied with much more narrow concerns of definition, execution and enforcement.
This shows up in civil law as well. The US is probably the most litigious society on the planet, leading to rather mechanistic approaches to the assignment of liability and risk. You’ll find yourself signing a lot of disclaimers, releases and waivers of liability for things that offend all sentient reason, and you’ll find yourself needing to take peculiar and cumbersome steps to ensure that you yourself are held harmless and indemnified in a variety of scenarios you would not have customarily assumed yourself to carry liability for. McDonald’s Corporation really can be held liable if you spill hot coffee on yourself, and maybe that’s good, but if you employ a mechanic and he spills hot coffee on himself while on the job, you might be held liable. Is that as strange as it sounds?
Social safety net and state services (or lack thereof)
For paying essentially similar tax rates to Western Europeans, Americans do not receive many state benefits, nor are able to rely on a substantial social safety net.
On the whole, the American body politic is chlorerically opposed to perceived “socialism”. This means that extensive taxpayer-funded social benefits are an impossible political sell in one of the richest countries on the globe.
This means that in many cases, you pay (at least) double; you both pay relatively high taxes, and pay out of your own pocket for things you wouldn’t have to pay for in Western Europe and many other developed countries. Healthcare is the most obvious and dire example, as I discussed above, but the same is largely true of child care, housing, university education, and, despite the existence of Social Security, pension.
There do exist unemployment benefits, disability benefits and government income assistance schemes to the very poor. The problem is rather that these programs provide very little compared to most developed-world countries, and are very limited in scope.
For instance, Armenians sometimes scoff at Americans for delaying having children until their thirties. Notwithstanding cultural causes, it’s worth noting that the expense of child care is expected to be shouldered by working parents themselves. The government does not provide, at a large scale, any sort of preschool or daycare, as is the case in many other developed countries. These services are available in private form, but are quite expensive, often so expensive as to substantially offset the income realised from liberating a parent to work. Quality cannot be counted upon; many of the cheaper daycare centres are little more than holding pens or warehouses for children, performing little to no useful pedagogical function.
Private university can cost tens of thousands of dollars annually in tuition. Public universities can be considerably cheaper, but the price is still well into the five figures once total cost of attendance, including boarding and meals, is considered. Some scholarships and financial aid from the universities is available, but not enough to realistically provide most students a way to afford attendance. The actual way most American university students afford university is by going into enormous debt, in the form of semi-government-sponsored student loans. It’s not uncommon to pay these loans back for the rest of one’s life, and they are not dischargeable in bankruptcy. All in all, American students owe $1.2 trillion dollars in student loans, and the average debt is $26000.
My home state of Georgia is rare in that it offers a rather novel form of state scholarship for state residents to attend public university in Georgia. The HOPE scholarship waives tuition if one qualifies on the basis of high school marks. How is it funded? Through state lottery ticket sales. It’s an upward income redistribution scheme; most buyers of lottery tickets are relatively poor and uneducated, and most recipients of the HOPE scholarship are middle-class kids from relatively affluent households. Because HOPE is awarded on the basis of academic performance, income is not a factor. This is a barometer of what is politically possible in America: upward income redistribution is okay, but to even imagine that the state itself could fund tuition directly? That would be socialism!
Federal housing aid for the very poor does exist, in the form of so-called Section 8 housing. But Section 8 housing is not somewhere you’d want to live unless you like gunshots and heroin needles.
Social Security was created in the 1930s to provide income security in old age. It is a mandatory government pension scheme. However, one would be crazy to rely on Social Security income alone in retirement; the payouts are quite low relative to contributions, which means that for most people, it’s not enough to live on. It should not be confused for an actual pension. Moreover, there are some unsettling questions about the long-term solvency of the fund.
Mandatory paid holiday in the US, where it exists, is limited to two weeks per year, and applies only to full-time, salaried employees. A great deal of employment in the US is in the form of part-time work, where the employer is not required to provide this or most other benefits. It is increasingly combined with paid illness time.
Bottom line: for their ~40%, the Europeans get more. A lot more.
The Anglo-American cultural heritage is uniquely individualistic.
This may be a welcome respite to Armenian denizens who are weary from a lifetime of collective social responsibilities and living for the concerns of others, and who may be eager for some privacy and freedom from gossip and judgement.
My experience has been that the other side of this can lead to a lot of culture shock. With due recognition to the fact that the US is diverse and has many subcultures, including very close-knit ones, it’s fair to say that the American ethos is decidedly more self-centred. The prevailing cultural expectation is that most people will take care of themselves and keep to themselves, and avoid being a burden to others in any way.
As I said above, there’s a lot to appreciate about this. But it also means that the concern you are accustomed to feeling from others for your well-being will fall off sharply. You can’t just take for granted that you can go ask your neighbour for a favour without a second thought; if you don’t know them well, it would be unseemly. In my personal experience, some Americans have even been known to respond in a hostile fashion to strangers knocking on their door. “Trespassing” and “privacy” are terms that get thrown around often.
I’m not saying that Americans are uncaring or unaffectionate people, by the way. It’s hard to make that generalisation about over 300 million people. Some of them are very caring. I’m just saying that if you are found to have signs of a meningioma and go in for an MRI scan, you might expect eight to ten friends and relatives to take time off work to show up with you and weep in anticipation in the waiting room. You will not find that here, and you’ll feel a sharp crash and withdrawal.
By and large, you are expected to take care of your own personal business in America and to “manage” your emotions and not allow them to interfere with your work. The inability of many human beings to actually meet this standard might explain why approximately half the American population is on some sort of psychotropic medication, e.g. antidepressants. If you need the Yerevan standard of personal involvement from others, the Anglo-American culture is about the worst for that.
Speaking of drugs–and I feel this is quite germane to the issue of “individualism” and social psychology, which is why I put it in this section: drugs they are a huge and extremely pervasive social problem, and you’re bound to collide with that reality sooner or later, directly or indirectly. A substantial proportion of the GDP depends in some way either on the production, distribution and consumption of drugs, or on enforcing draconian laws against it. There’s quite a lot of what one might call industrial-scale militarisation on both sides. Like any war, it’s damaging even to the victors, there is enormous collateral damage to civilian bystanders, and it’s hard to tell who the real villains are. By Armenian standards, the US can be criminal, gritty and dangerous in unexpected ways.
More interestingly, perhaps, the world of legal drugs bleeds easily into the illegal, as evidenced by widespread illegal abuse of prescription painkillers and the entirely legal overprescription of psychoactive medications such as amphetamines. Americans are probably the most psychoactively medicated people on the planet. The whole legal-illegal distinction is a nebulous, foggy continuum in a place with so much regulatory capture and other corruption driven by mega-pharmaceutical shysterism.
As I tell every Yerevan taxi driver who lyricises America, “like everything else, it’s got its pluses and minuses”.
The US is a good place for the incorrigibly entrepreneurial and the well-paid, and in either case, the young. It’s a good place to be if you’re in a well-remunerated profession that is complementary to machine intelligence and other emergent trends indicative of the future of employment in “post-industrial” economies. It still offers a dynamic business climate–something that is as much a function of culture as of regulation and economics. It’s an intriguingly diverse multicultural “melting pot” where just about anyone can find a social group of likeminded people, which owes much to both its size and its history as a nation of immigrants. If the more collectivist psychology of the East is your vexation, the strong current of individualism and independence in American culture would probably an ideal antidote. For certain kinds of people, the US has much to recommend it.
However, I hope I have tempered that with some sober realities about the challenges of everyday life. The US lacks many of the socially stabilising factors and policy objectives of Western European countries. If you’re looking for a calm, moderate life and are allergic to extremes, I suggest you set your sights upon another OECD country to romanticise. Either way, I would pause and take a minute before reflexively deeming a visiting American to be enviably rich and happy.
There’s no paradise anywhere.
Armenian economists, diaspora repatriates, and development evangelists offer many idealistic proposals about how Armenia can reverse its inexorable decline and parlay the forces of its gradual disintegration into positive economic growth and regional leadership. Most of these are plainly quixotic, at least to anyone with even cursory insight into everyday Armenian reality and demographic trends. They do not give one the sense of having been united with the probable.
However, on this spectrum of bright-eyed, bushy-tailed pronouncements, the idea of Armenia becoming a major IT centre is one of the less wholly implausible ones. Politicians and self-appointed diaspora luminaries say the darndest, most fantastical things; of all of their grandiose ideas, for Armenia to traffic in virtual goods is probably not the most far-fetched, if only because the messengers of progress have set a high standard with their pompous rhetoric.
I don’t have much experience working within the local IT market, though I do have plenty of colleagues in the IT field in Yerevan. Nevertheless, true to my well-established tendency, I’ll dubiously anoint myself enough of an authority to give an outsider’s impression about the merits of this thesis that Armenia should hitch its wagon to tech. Then, maybe insiders can tell me why I’ve got it all wrong.
The backdrop of strong Soviet-era fundamentals in science and engineering helps in Armenia, too. Armenian engineers are, classically, quite capable. Moreover, the hardships this generation of IT people have had to live through in the bedlam of the 1990s has given them a lot of adaptability, flexibility, and resolve. They’ve definitely got the stereotypical Soviet MacGyver-type knack for improvisation. Among my circle of acquaintances are many people who learned to program during the dark years of the electrical crisis and the Nagorno-Karabakh War, squeezing a few hours a day of power for their third-rate computers out of car batteries, charged by tenuous methods of dubious legality, at a time when Yerevan was plunged into near-total darkness and bitter winter cold. People were burning books and random objects at the time for heating fuel. They pioneered low-baud Internet connectivity through Moscow in extremely inhospitable conditions. They paid obscene rates for Internet and telephone service in the heyday of the ArmenTel monopoly, and still more obscene black market rates for aftermarket mobile devices. As far as the pampered, effete cubicle-dwellers of the “developed world” are concerned, these guys might as well have been working on punchcards by candlelight. They would’ve given a lot to have had mere Office Space problems.
But, for the most part these people left a long time ago. It doesn’t take a genius to recognise that with these kinds of skills, one could make proportionally better money abroad, even offset against higher living costs, while opening greater career development and life opportunities for themselves and their families. Moreover, these guys have an advantage that many other Armenians trying to leave the country don’t. Steeped in the Western-rooted shared culture of the Internet, they have a good command of the English language and soaked up a lot of globalist ideas that make them highly fraternal with their nerdy American and European counterparts. They’ve also got the Russian IT culture and language angle, which is very influential in Armenia as well, so they can migrate to Eastern Europe, too. Economically speaking, it’s a lot easier for foreign companies to plug clever Armenian technologists straight into their workforce, because they’re not so different from the domestic clever technologists. The homogenising force of the Internet definitely offers an efficiency benefit to both labour and management.
Understand, too, that there are ways to eke out a meager living doing IT in developing economies that effectively don’t exist in the developed world anymore, because they’ve been obsoleted, rationalised and optimised away. When’s the last time you saw a general, all-inclusive computer store in First World countries (Chinese importers notwithstanding)? Non-tech people may be forgiven for thinking that the guys at one of Yerevan’s innumerable computer stores that know how to repair PCs, clean spyware, make some simple web sites, and wire up small business LANs are pretty sharp, but their skill set is not globally competitive. They can’t emigrate on that basis. All that stuff is long commoditised. To find work abroad, one has to have specialised, nontrivial and current skills that are intra-industrially useful. However, the same applies to Armenia: this tier of technicians isn’t qualified to hold up the weight of Armenian infrastructure and economic development on their shoulders either. All in all, there may be a fair amount of computer-savvy guys in Yerevan, but there are actually very few, if you see what I mean.
So, as far as I can tell, the main limitation on any Armenian aspiration to become an IT major is the severe shortage of qualified people. Everyone prattles on about a shortage of qualified tech people in every market, but as with all other problems, in Armenia the problem is much more acute, sharp and concentrated, due to its tiny size. There’s a small skeleton crew of highly competent remnants holding down the fort (i.e. people who didn’t manage to leave for one reason or another, usually family or personal reasons rather than lack of opportunities to do so), but even among them, emigration is a major theme of discussion. As all other highly qualified specialists, productive workers and capable entrepreneurs in Armenia, they’re getting fed up and leaving. Many developing countries and ex-Soviet republics are bleeding specialists, but other countries have a lot more people to bleed. Armenia is haemorrhaging.
I don’t see a crop of up-and-coming youngsters that stand to viably replace the classic hackers of the 1990s. The few especially capable ones generally take the shortcut of leaving. It’s the same old song of Armenia: everybody’s leaving. Thus, I take no pleasure in elucidating the obvious conclusion to anyone thinking of turning Armenia into a globally competitive IT centre: where’s your globally competitive work force?
Any IT business in Armenia with aspirations of making real money must, by definition, be export-oriented. There’s no money to be made in selling into the local market. The only IT companies in Armenia I’m familiar with that make any money–and I’m not counting outsourced development or engineering divisions of foreign companies here–are ones that service government contracts and foreign orders.
The local market has IT needs, of course, but they’re pretty pedestrian and connected to low-margin products and services–the kinds of things that are, in terms of their global cost structure, only viable at a large scale. The killer is a triple curse:
- Small market size, and therefore, no economies of scale, as well as fierce competition and saturation;
- Poverty; it is possible to sell into a small market, but only if it’s a rich economy. Armenia is basically city-state size, but it’s no Singapore;
- Relatively undeveloped, traditional economy. There’s not that many businesses in Armenia that have a need for sophisticated technological capital goods.
There’s other problems related to the last point as well. Armenian businesses are, as a matter of cultural disposition, cheap quite apart from their relative poverty, as Armenians are historically given to commerce with an Eastern bent. Few proprietors seem to have made the shift to a post-industrial mindset that divorces the subconscious perception of “value” from the idea of “tangible goods” while strongly incorporating the idea of shopping on value rather than price.
Traditional economies have never lent themselves especially well to Western-style economic rationalism and efficiency, either. Say what you will about the humanistic effects of that rationalism (which I would characterise somewhat ambivalently), but the reality is that a strong cultural focus on optimising workflows and business processes drives much of the demand for IT universally.
Yerevan actually has rather good and ubiquitous FTTH-based consumer broadband. However, it’s easy to forget that the country’s connections to the outside world are tenuous and reflect its geopolitically precarious position. Armenia’s only real connection to the greater Internet is through the neighbouring republic of Georgia, and it’s quite easy to take the whole country offline, as the world learned in April 2011 (The Guardian).
I’m told that the fibre paths have got a bit more diverse now, but there’s not that much diversity you can add to a largely mountainous, landlocked country most of whose land borders are closed. Armenia’s border with Turkey has been closed since 1994 and has no cross-border telecommunication connections, and the border with Azerbaijan is ever-so-slightly militarised, you might say. Together with the Azeri exclave of Nakhichevan, that’s about 85% of Armenia’s land borders. As with many other things, Armenia clings to life through Georgia, subject to its whims and caprices, as well as the geophysical realities of doing so. To the south, Iran is connected to some very robust, high-bandwidth Persian Gulf cable systems, but, I’m told that for fairly obvious political reasons, the Internet link through Iran isn’t used much (if at all).
The inability to build redundant, multilateral physical connections to its neighbours makes Armenia quite ill-suited to the operation of any regionally significant Internet interconnection exchange or peering point. Armenian utility power is fairly reliable (as long as the Metsamor reactor keeps running), but definitely at “developing world” levels of redundancy. The power frequency isn’t terribly clean. There is high seismic risk. Wholesale IP bandwidth to the outside world is quite expensive. All these things likely preclude the possibility of Armenia hosting a real data centre or getting into the hosting or “cloud” business in a big way. So you want to operate a network? Who are you going to network with?
IT also depends on strong logistical links to the outside world and benefits from proximity to supply chains. Armenia is landlocked and largely blockaded, and, on account of its small size, constitutes an exotic, high-cost shipping destination. No access to open water means expensive transit through Georgia’s Black Sea ports, or even more expensive air cargo. Slow and unreliable internal logistics, as well as high import duties, are also a killer.
It takes more than just electricity, Internet connectivity and low labour costs to create or sustain a significant IT sector. IT is highly interdependent and horizontally allied with a variety of other inputs, all of which require a critical mass of economic activity and sophistication to sustain.
I hear all kinds of nonsense from diaspora tech people about how Armenia can be an incredible startup hub because of its low costs. However, startups need clean business climates, low barriers to entry, transparent financial institutions, easy access to relatively abundant financing, and a critical mass of other startups that concentrates talented, experienced people in one place. There must be some sort of established and humming growth, exit and/or liquidation track. Armenia doesn’t offer much of that. Cheap labour does not a startup hub make. Without the right factors of production (principally human ones), any spark will quickly fizzle out.
None of this is to denigrate the efforts of the Yerevan tech startup community to do what it can with what it’s got. However, the chances of an Asian Tiger-type economic miracle there are vanishingly slim in my estimation.
It seems to me that government officials haven’t actually caught onto IT as a source of wealth or value yet. For the most part, they are rather sclerotic, stuck in the mindset of twentieth century industrialists and in keeping with Armenia’s largely traditional economic composition: if it’s not a physical good, it’s not a real thing that actually matters. Actually, this is probably a good thing; if technology companies weren’t so “under the radar”, they’d be subject to the same harsh extortion and shakedown racket that the notoriously corrupt bureaucracy, in concert with large business interests, visits upon most businesses in Armenia. It’s only a matter of time until they fully realise that there’s more to IT than just a bunch of guys sat at desks typing or whatnot.
In light of this, talk of crafty government policy incentives to lure startups or foster a more teeming IT investment climate seems like a very distant pipe dream.
IT is a globally competitive field. If you want to compete, you have to answer the fundamental question of just what it is that you can offer that is better than other countries or locales, or at least on par with other countries and locales. Generally-accepted criteria for a market poised to break out in IT include:
- Abundant human capital at a low cost (Armenia’s got the low cost, but not the abundant human capital);
- Adequate physical infrastructure;
- Logistical integration with the outside world — easy to travel to, ship to and do business with (this is particularly important if Armenia’s destiny were to become an “outsourcing centre” rather than a “startup hub”, and the “outsourcing centre” seems like a more practical step);
- Relatively transparent regulatory and legal climate;
- Location that is in some way central or regionally significant;
- Established education pipeline to feed the human talent pool, in some significant volume;
- Concentrated networks of financing resources, advisors, mentors and talent.
Does Armenia have any of this?
Rather than becoming a startup zoo, the more likely emergent development track for a place like Armenia is to work on becoming an offshore development centre, which is a simpler, dumber configuration that doesn’t make such enormous demands on its scarce and ill-prepared ecosystem.
This is the same sort of thing that propelled India to IT-led economic growth, and in principle, it seems possible. I’ve seen a number of American companies move their development offices to Yerevan, or acquire Armenian companies seemingly for the purpose of leveraging their existing engineering talent.
If this trend were to gain any traction, it might help to retain Armenian IT talent in Armenia. However, there is a natural tension between this and the downward wage pressure that gives offshoring its competitive edge from the point of view of the arbitrageur.
Still, I think if there’s any hope of IT taking a real hold in Armenia as an export, it’s probably going to proceed down this route. However, it would benefit a lot from government incentives to nurture it, as well as movement toward greater administrative and financial transparency that is going to be at odds with Armenia’s endemic corruption.
The biggest cause for pessimism is, in my mind, the lack of a critical mass of local talent. I don’t see where these companies are going to find enough local bodies. Seemingly in recognition of this fact, I’ve even heard proposals to convince IT-able diaspora Armenians to move to Armenia and ply their craft there for foreign companies, but when pressing for details on how to pull off this feat of psychological alchemy? I get crickets. Diaspora Armenians are sometimes strongly receptive to nationalist-irredentist demagoguery, though, so I suppose one could do it with ideological bombardment. The sorts of people who are easily persuaded by that sort of claptrap don’t tend to make very talented engineers, though; computing work requires good critical thinking.
A side note about Tumo
Tumo has occasionally been trotted out to me as a vanguard of Armenia’s high-technology future. I was fortunate to have the opportunity to take a very in-depth tour once and see it firsthand before passing judgment.
I’m afraid I have little to say in praise of Tumo as a job skills creation engine, at least from the perspective of an engineer. They’ve taken what was fundamentally a rather good idea, backed by very significant money, lots of good hardware, a nice in-house curriculum management and interactive lesson delivery platform, and squandered it on teaching kids “lite” stuff that doesn’t matter. This focus on animation, design and media may be sexy, but if they want to give kids the foundation for skills that will actually help them thrive in critical, high-value roles, they need to put all this fluffy multimedia away and focus on serious software engineering and operations. That would take a rather radical retooling away from what they’re set up for now.
I’m all for artistic endeavours, but if you want to talk about Tumo as a player in some possibility of a serious future for Armenia through IT, these design-oriented skill sets do not represent an effective vehicle for investment in that viewpoint. They need to learn a thing or two from the people that went to the 1990s school of hard knocks.
If there are still any left in Armenia by the time this goes to press.
For the first time in quite a while, I’m leaving Armenia for a non-trivial period of time. I’ll be back in a few months, but am seriously reconsidering my previous inertia toward longer-term residence. I haven’t fully made up my mind. There’s some novel personal reasons that enter into the deliberation lately, including a very short-lived and spectacularly failed marriage here, but I’m not letting a bad marriage ruin Armenia for me, and I’m not here to talk about that. I wanted to share some more general parting thoughts and observations.
I’ve spent most of the last year and a half in Yerevan, with only two very brief visits back to the USA and a two-month stay in Berlin. I’ve been through the entire cycle of euphoria, disenchantment, and realignment with regard to living here. I came in early summer 2012 for the first time and loved it. I left in February 2013 hating it. I came back in late April 2013 more rebalanced. I feel that my spirits are calm, and while I don’t speak from a position of very wide experience, I think I can say some things in a fairly level-headed way, without being unduly swayed by either a sour winter mood on the one hand, or the sunny rush of novelty on the other. I haven’t seen everything there is to see, but I think I’ve seen enough to have some credibility. I think.
What I’ll Miss
– Density and compactness: Yerevan has the rather appealing quality of being large enough to be interesting, but small enough to be manageable and easy to get around. It’s not a small town, but it’s not sprawling.
From an Atlantan’s point of view, everything here is very easy. My permanent residence is in downtown Atlanta, but as we know, the centre in a place like Atlanta doesn’t have the same meaning; it’s not actually central to daily life. It’s more like a picture of post-industrial urban decay, overlayed with spots of revitalisation.
It’s actually a bit remarkable that I praise central Yerevan for convenience, because public transportation here is abysmal. It’s no European capital. Yerevan’s convenience comes out in a somewhat different way. Living in the inner centre, everything I need is a ludicrously short walk away, by the standards of virtually any other metropolis I’ve been to. It keeps me in shape while not compelling me to spend half a day walking all over creation. Walking is an interesting and pleasant experience, aesthetically and architecturally. I haven’t lived anywhere else where running errands was so easy and quick. The inner centre is nicely laid out in that regard.
– Safety: Given its overall place on the global economic totem pole, one might expect Yerevan to be ridden with crime and a substantial degree of violence. But it’s really not. Sure, it’s got some petty crime, statistically speaking, but you can blithely walk in any part of Yerevan at 4 AM without worrying about your physical safety or having the expectation of being robbed.
I can’t vouch for your personal comfort walking at 4 AM in all parts of Yerevan, especially if you’re a woman walking alone, but comfort is one thing, physical safety is another. Armenia is not a place in which armed robbery, rape, murder, etc. happen to any non-negligible degree. Even disorderly public drunkenness doesn’t make much of an appearance here. It also doesn’t have the widespread social problems related to drugs, which are an unavoidable staple of life for all but the most exclusively gated bourgeoisie in the US, and many other places in the world, “developed world” and otherwise.
With the exception of particularly orderly Germanic capitals, in most places I’ve been to, you need to watch your ass. Most likely, nothing will happen to you on any given day, but you still learn the unconscious reflexes of looking over your shoulder and being aware of your surroundings. You need to know where the bad neighbourhoods are. Strung-out homeless junkies can cut you up. If you walk into the wrong bar, you could find yourself in quite a fix (don’t laugh, I got robbed in Buenos Aires this way). Get into the wrong taxi, you could find yourself at an ATM, cleaning out your checking account at gunpoint. It’s unlikely, but it’s certainly possible in principle, so you’re always calculating how to avoid risks. Life in Yerevan is blissfully free of this sort of tension. I’m actually afraid that I’ve become a bit complacent.
(Footnote: This umbrella of safety doesn’t appear to extend to open gays and lesbians, particularly ones participating in demonstrations or pride parades. Although I don’t have first-hand experience, Armenia is clearly a terrible place to be LGBT. See below.)
– Mount Ararat: Catching a glimpse of Mount Ararat or Aragats from some elevated position in the city is always a sensational treat. And the view from the Cascade is beautiful; it can never get old. Armenia is undeniably scenic.
– Informal flexibility: Armenia is not a place where one is straightjacketed by efficiency, business processes, workflows, or formal productisation.
You can buy pills, fruit, and just about anything else a la carte, by the single unit. You can have just about anything delivered to your home. It’s common to be personally acquainted with service personnel (electricians, plumbers, etc.) and officials and just call them up. Connections and first-name basis relationships go a long way everywhere. Custom, one-off requests are always an option, and just about anything is negotiable.
Some years ago, a relative of mine was trying to get a piano up to his 5th floor apartment. No matter what he did, it wouldn’t fit through the hallway, common areas, and front door. But, there was a construction crane outside, so he paid the operator a bit of money and, voila, the piano was hoisted up on the crane and delivered through his expansive living room window. You can do that in Armenia.
When I go to the doctor in Armenia, reception asks for my name and address, not eight pages of family medical history and insurance garbage. The medical practice charges the patient directly, based on what the market will bear. The doctor gives his mobile number and says to call whenever if I have any further questions. I got a [good] root canal, stint and filling (composite, not the cheap, toxic silver amalgam kind they love so much in the US) done for a grand total of US$60.
All this flexibility is just a distant fantasy in the US. It’s common elsewhere in the “developing world”, but I’ve found the Armenian implementation particularly humane and amicable.
– Intellectually positive culture: Esteem for intelligence, education, the arts and literature is deeply embedded in Armenian culture, history and heritage.
That doesn’t mean all Armenians are highly intelligent, educated people. No, most definitely not. But, as in many European cultures, their values affirm intellectualism, at least nominally
In Armenia, backward provincialism is indicated by an objective lack of education. Simple people still profess admiration for scholarship and broad horizons. The main error of ignorant Armenians is their false belief that they, themselves, are educated people. They may be ignorant as can be, but they really think they’re not. They want to be educated. They want to feel educated. They want to seem educated. Calling someone a philistine rube (in so many words) is genuinely hurtful and offensive.
In the US, in contrast, backward provincialism is indicated by a deep-seated contempt for that high-falootin’ book-learnin’, a profound disdain, suspicion of, and outward hostility toward urbane intellectualism and cosmopolitanism. There is plenty in the American history of settlement by marginal social groups, as well as the influence of quirky theology and parochial frontiersmanship to explain its idiosyncratic know-nothingism, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s the much worse of the two options.
– High-quality food and agricultural products: I’m not an expert, but Armenian food staples seem to be relatively uncontaminated by modern agro-industrial processes, together with their endless herbicides, pesticides, contaminants, preservatives, antibiotics, artificial flavouring, heaps of processed and refined sugar, high-fructose corn syrup, etc.These things are present in nearly everything we eat in the US, even the stuff whose nutritional value is supposedly inscrutable. I can tell a difference between Armenian fruits and vegetables and American ones in a heartbeat. The Armenian ones are rich, flavourful, aromatic, and spoil quickly.
Armenia is one big farmer’s market, a place where “organic food” isn’t a boutique section of the supermarket, but the whole supermarket. Almost everything in Armenia is natural and grown more or less commonsensically.
If nothing else, consider that I’ve lost 15 kg (around 32 lbs) since I came here, even though I eat prodigiously (including plenty of carbs and desserts), observe no dietary restrictions, and do not follow any weight loss-oriented exercise programme (though I obviously do a fair bit of walking). In the US, I get the opposite effect; no matter what I eat, and no matter how little of it, I balloon out (and I walk a fair bit in Atlanta, too; I haven’t had a car in quite some time).
Like I said, I’m as far from an expert from this area as it gets. But you tell me what you think that means.
– Beautiful scenery and pristine countryside: The regions of Armenia, in view of the country’s unmitigatedly mountainous relief, are stunningly beautiful.
For all of the US’s variance of landscape and its biodiversity, a lot of it is ruined by sprawling suburbanisation and bland, utilitarian homogeneity–offering none of the benefits of the rural, while lacking the economic and aesthetic benefits of the city. In Armenia, when you go to the country, you are definitely in the country, and it’s captivating and distinctive.
Better yet, you don’t have to go far. Armenia is only about the size of Delaware, so when you want a real change of scenery, you’re looking at a few hours’ drive at most. Armenia’s mountainous topography also creates very distinct climactic areas. Yerevan is in a sunny valley that frequently traps hot air. Dilijan is only 60 mi (96 km) away, but has a much cooler, more overcast climate because of its surrounding mountains and different elevation. For its small size, Armenia offers many such contrasts within short reach.
– Friendliness and congeniality: For all the melancholy crystallised in the Armenian historical experience, Armenians are generally friendly, hospitable and humane people who, like many “southern” cultures, place a high value on the quality of their relationships and shared experiences.
Although Armenians are far from the only culture with these values and priorities, it’s something I’ll miss. One does not find such spirit and life in the banality of quotidian Anglo-American life, the reservedness of northern Europeans, nor in the grittier, standoffish attitudes common in many harsher parts of the “developing world”.
– Late schedule: Yerevan doesn’t really get started until 10 AM or so, even on weekdays. Personally, I think that’s nice. The first time someone schedules me for an 8 AM meeting back in the US, I’m going to blow a gasket.
– Fashion and dress: While I have many critical things to say about the tastelessness of Yerevan youth, the fact remains that, apart from a few specifically cringeworthy and comical memes, the standard of dress and appearance in public is broadly much higher here than in the North American universe and many parts of Europe, even for men. I’m not looking forward to returning to an aesthetic consisting mostly of shorts and t-shirts, hoodies, baseball caps, and sweatpants, for grown professional adults and children alike, rural and urban.
Come to Armenia, it’ll teach you to dress like a civilised person. I’m not ashamed to say it really helped my wardrobe.
What I Won’t Miss
– Isolation: After a while in Armenia, a feeling of profound isolation sets in.
Geopolitically, the country is literally isolated: it’s tiny, it’s landlocked, and 80% of its land borders are closed due to the Turkish-Azerbaijani blockade. It straddles the Muslim and Christian worlds, and sits at a Euro-Asiatic crossroads. It’s undergoing a demographic implosion, in the form of rapid emigration, brain drain and general depopulation.
I think these things, along with the nation’s innate fear of being lost or dissolved in larger currents, have caused the post-Soviet culture to develop in an especially insular and self-contained way.
The small market size also means logistical and transportation connections are poor. There are very few flights coming into Armenia from Western Europe, and most of them are not daily.
For a place that’s fairly close to Europe and claims to be closer, Europe feels very far away–culturally, spiritually, and geographically.
– Marshrutkas: These flatulent camionetas are an eyesore and a very uncomfortable mode of transportation. They also have a knack for flipping over.
Enrique Peñalosa vanquished these polluting death trolleys in Bogotá; why can’t they do it here?
– Infantilisation of adult children, authoritarian clan parenting: Children live with their parents here well into their late twenties and early thirties–until marriage, in other words, and quite possibly beyond.
On the surface of it, the reasons are economic; with the wage and employment situation being what it is, hardly anyone in their twenties or thirties can afford to live on their own. Naturally, this leads to a lot of “my roof, my rules” constraints on one’s life, and it’s a problem anywhere.
But there’s a lot more than that going on in Armenia, for cultural reasons quite apart from the underlying economics. It’s quite possible to raise one’s children into self-sufficient adults with well-formed, independent personalities and lives, even if they cohabit with their parents. Many Armenians don’t do that.
There are some deeply authoritarian, Oriental currents of parenting baked into Armenian culture, and the result is that lots of young people are effectively stunted. Boys are often raised to be spoiled, ineffective couch potatoes (definitely an Eastern tendency), while girls are chiseled into domestic slaves while being coddled and overprotected in all the wrong ways. No 25 year old woman should have an 11 PM “curfew” or be unable to attend art school because “my dad didn’t let me” (emphasis: not “wouldn’t pay for it”, but “didn’t let me”). I’ve met plenty of young men in their twenties that could afford to live separately, but their parents “won’t let them”.
The practical consequences of this for a lot of Armenian young adults is that they don’t evolve independent, self-sufficient social instincts, or form the essential social and professional connections they need in order to chart a distinct course in life, which is inherently at loggerheads with the individualistic orientation of modern capitalism, and with the demands the modern world will make of these people outside of Armenia, and increasingly, inside it, too.
It’s frustrating to see a prostrated, infantile, incapable 28 year old man who can’t seem to do anything without daddy’s help or approval. To the extent this is simply a consequence of economics forcing people to live under one roof with their parents and develop accordingly, or to the extent that limited employment opportunities restrict the accumulation of life experience, I sympathise. I really do. But to the extent this is Armenian cultural parochialism at its worst, which it absolutely is, it makes a bad situation much worse. Not letting the chicks leave the nest, literally or figuratively, leaves them woefully unprepared to negotiate the challenges of dealing with other people and building bridges of understanding and diplomacy. I’ve met my share of 30 year olds that don’t realise that there’s a way to resolve disagreements other than by leveraging out one’s parents. These kids are not learning the skills to solve their own problems, or live with the consequences of their own decisions. They are not learning how to fail and how to make mistakes. They’re not learning to pick up the pieces and move on. They’re learning that dad (or, as is often the case, mom) is The Oracle, the one who knocks, the one who is many, the first, the last.
When I call this out, I usually get some lyrical encomium in return about the ever-important “Armenian family values”. Much is made of these Armenian family values. However, as it turns out, it’s quite possible to have solid “family values” without treating your adult children like they’re four. Living with one’s parents long into adult life is normal in much of the world, but that doesn’t necessarily lead to such suffocating helplessness. I don’t doubt that many parents participating in this travesty have the best of intentions (though, certainly, some do it out of selfish motives), but, they’re still stunting their children.
You might ask why I care. What’s it to me how other cultures rear their young? Live and let live. Well, aside from the fact that it’s demoralising and depressing to see it play out, this goes in the “won’t miss it” pile for entirely selfish reasons: I’m almost 28, I live alone, rent on my own, work on my own, and regulate my life on my own. This makes me almost peer-less in Yerevan, since so many of my peers are not allowed to be grown-ups. It’s pretty hard to make friends with people who aren’t fully up and running by their mid-twenties, or even their thirties. That’s why I won’t miss it.
– Dating and gender relations: This is strongly related to the last point.
I’ve basically sworn off Armenia as a place to find a romantic partner. You might assume, not unreasonably, that it’s due to the aftertaste left by my divorce, but it’s not. I just can’t handle the prevailing backwardness of this place.
For someone who is used to the relatively robust individualism of Western countries, dating in Armenia is quite challenging because women well into their twenties (and sometimes beyond) don’t have independent romantic, emotional and sexual lives–not “nice girls”, anyway; some have these things, but they come with other complications. There are some exceptions, but they’re definitely anomalous. Women pretty much come as a package deal with their parents, and you should expect your relationship with a grown 26-year old woman to be eerily reminiscent of high school dating, complete with curfews, chaperoning and scrutiny entirely unsuited to grown, self-actualised adults. I know a guy whose relationship with a 32 year old woman ended because her parents ran her life like she was 14. 32!
Premarital/extramarital cohabitation is pretty much out of question; what will people say? What will the neighbours think? Armenians’ obsession with policing the sexual behaviour of young women certainly doesn’t compare with that of the Muslim world, but it’s pretty high up there, though the primary enforcement tools seem to be gossip, shaming and stigma, rather than sharia.
The “cult of virginity” is alive and well in Armenia, if you can believe that here, now, in 2014, there’s a place on the globe where a lot of men wouldn’t marry a sexually “experienced” woman (outside of those parts of the world that have made a name for themselves precisely by specialising in building bridges to the 1500s). Armenian popular culture devotes a great deal of energy to this obsession with virginity, and, I’m told on good authority, gynaecologists devote a great deal of energy to hymen reconstruction. (In this unsurprising twist, it turns out that even Armenians have something in common humanity at large. Ain’t nothin’ but mammals.)
This shockingly uncontemporary backwardness doesn’t touch all segments of society equally; social class dovetails strongly here with cultural development and worldly awareness, and not all layers of society are yoked to these relics of bygone millenia. The problem is that it doesn’t matter; the intelligentsia may not be as I am describing, but they’ve long retreated as a source of cultural influence, mostly due to their drastically thinned-out ranks. Contemporary Armenian social mores are not shaped by the intelligentsia. The dark age of the village has dawned. If you didn’t rear your daughter like this, don’t take it personally; as far as I can tell, you’re a minority now.
The bottom line here from a dating perspective is that if you want to date and/or marry an Armenian girl in her twenties, it’s just as likely as not that you’re going to have to pour years of effort into ungluing her from her parents and helping her get some perspective, all while dealing with petty and meddlesome paternalistic obstacles that I haven’t seen since the era of my school girlfriend. If you come to Armenia to meet the ladies, be prepared to rewind your historical memory a few decades. If you’re lucky, you’re just transitioning ownership of the bride away from her parents and assuming it yourself. If you’re not as lucky, congratulations–you’ve just met your new bosses, who are going to try to run you like they do their neutered sons. And, you are looking for marriage, right? There’s no other acceptable long-term relationship orientation.
I don’t have time for this. When Armenia decides to join the post-1960s reality, I’ll be more interested. Until then, I’ll let the “family values” echo chamber do its thing.
If you’re a conventional woman thinking of meeting men here, I have no advice except “just no” and “run”. You read about Neanderthals in school, but I don’t think anything can prepare you for the twilight of life with the average young Armenian man reared in the regressive post-Soviet cultural environment. To say that your rights, freedoms and personal latitude, framed in the context of spousal and in-laws’ expectations, will be curtailed to “pre-feminist” levels is to put it very mildly indeed. Armenia also has an abysmal record on protecting women from spousal rape and physical abuse, which are all too commonly seen by police as “private matters”, and by society as dirty laundry that no wife should be airing in public. If you’re a woman coming from a Western upbringing, you really have no idea what you’re getting into.
Lastly, keep in mind that much of what I’ve had to say here goes for the youth, not necessarily for classical Yerevanians of Soviet extraction, or their descendants. However, as I said above, this regression is the dominant reality today. If you want to try to pick needles out of a haystack, be my guest, but it seems to me you’re better off just looking for love in a country not so overlooked by global progress.
– Patronising advice: Speaking of “family values”, I won’t miss all the unsolicited advice from random strangers about how I really should get married and have children, because, don’t you know? Children are life’s greatest joy.
Maybe they are. Maybe not. Please let me figure out my desires, priorities and values for myself. I know my “elders” mean well, but there’s a reason I don’t turn to random 20 year olds and tell them about life’s greatest joy. “Teaching” comes naturally to older Armenians, and it’s annoying. Mutual respect means that at some point, we stop talking to people younger than us like they’re children.
– Ethnic strife-driven discourse: This is the first time in my life I’ve wandered into a Yugoslavia-type psychological powder keg.
Be Sumgait, Baku and Karabakh as they may, and be the century-old Genocide as it may (this is coming from someone whose ancestors died in the Genocide), I will not participate in this Balkanised metaphysics where the Turks (both kinds) are simply known as “The Adversary” (which does, in fact, happen to be News.am’s term for Azerbaijan, seemingly). I have no wish to plant a tribalistic stake in this complex and multi-faceted problem.
But frankly, it seems to me that Armenia is no position to make enemies or make demands from the Turks. The kinds of realpolitik pragmatists who realise that don’t get to lead the country, though. Fanatical nationalism is ugly everywhere, and it’s ugly here too. Won’t miss it.
– Intolerance: I left this one for last because it’s a big one.
With the amount of energy Armenians devote to their twin obsessions of virginity and homosexuality, they could seriously cure cancer, end world hunger, or invent nuclear fusion.
If you’re LGBT, the aforementioned security of Yerevan does not apply. Yerevan is a place where the firebombing of a gay-friendly bar is not at all out of question and pride parades are attacked by angry nationalist mobs (seemingly with tacit support from the police and the establishment). It makes me indescribably sad to see otherwise cultured, intelligent people wind up their vitriol toward gays and lesbians. What did gays and lesbians ever do to you? What on earth does other people’s sexual preference change in your life, that you take time out of your day to crinkle your nose and remark on how distasteful same-sex intimacy is? Armenians have problems–a lot of problems–that they would be well-served to focus on instead of sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong, in people’s romantic and sexual lives. Such attitudes seriously make me question whether Armenia can sustain evolution toward and integration with the Western world. I really feel for LGBT people in Armenia. Life isn’t easy for them.
While I’m hardly a crusader for extreme political correctness, I also would recommend that the workaday Armenian public strongly reconsider its offhand attitudes about Black people (as in Africans) and other “unfamiliar” ethnicities. I’ve seen a few black American volunteers and visitors here, and with the looks they get, they might as well be in a minstrel show. I know the morons gawking at them are from a 99%-monoethnic country with few foreign visitors, but they don’t get a pass. It doesn’t adorn Armenia to underscore that you live under a rock.
I’ve spent most of the last year and a half working remotely from Yerevan, Armenia. I’m a telecommunications consultant and software vendor in VoIP, and my products and services are oriented toward the North American market. Almost all of my customers are in the US. I don’t see 98% of my customers face-to-face pretty much ever, and IP telephony, along with the Internet in general, seemingly make it possible to work from anywhere in the world, which was a thought that led me to attempt somewhat long-term residency in Armenia on that basis.
It can be done, as evidenced by the IT talent that operates here in the service of foreign companies or clients. The Internet connectivity is reasonably reliable. Mobile data services are good. The Level3 route back to the US (Georgia -> Sofia -> Frankfurt -> Paris -> Washington -> Atlanta) is clean and consistent. The reliability of power utilities is adequate, if not at “developed world” levels. There are many cozy cafés with good WiFi. It’s possible to rent a small office relatively inexpensively by First World standards (with the usual caveats about quality and getting what one pays for; if you want First World standards, you’ll pay First World rent; I don’t pay First World rent, and my office is uninhabitable right now due to insufficient heating.) The business environment is notoriously corrupt and contentious, but none of that touches you if your business is not based in Armenia and if you don’t earn income here.
If you work a lot with hardware, import duty, unpredictable shipping, and some paucity of local stock will be a problem. However, I traffic strictly in software goods, so it’s not a problem for me, although having my laptop’s power adaptor or motherboard die would be quite a daunting obstacle to deal with in this corner of the world. You can buy a new computer, sure, but if you’re going to settle in for a while and like to use the latest and greatest, bring spares.
Still, the harsh truth that I’ve begun to understand fairly recently is that the 9 hour time difference (8 hours in the summer) is just too much. It’s a mixed bag, because I am prone to nocturnalism and the time difference does reward it. The managerial classes at large companies like to show up at work at 7 AM and see correspondence in their inbox from this productive “early bird”. Everyone appreciates my willingness to volunteer for 4 AM maintenance windows and upgrades. I can get a lot done before the Americans even wake up, which is great for procrastinators like me who always have things they’ve put off until the last minute. That’s great, but, at the end of the day, I’m not sure it makes up for the fact that even if I keep decidedly unconventional work hours, in local Armenian terms, the latest I can really be available is mid-afternoon Eastern time. This doesn’t seem like a problem in the course of working the daily grind, but when I come back to the US, I feel how much I’m missing out on by not being around during the late afternoon and throughout the evening. That’s when some of the most important stuff happens in the 24/7 techie universe, which is replete with other personalities who aren’t on the early bird manager’s schedule either. The time zone factor influences business-impacting socialisation strongly.
Plus, there’s a powerful ongoing tension between this work situation and the social expectation of keeping relatively “conventional” hours in local Armenian time. I’ve never been able to consistently keep a 9-to-5 schedule in any locale or time zone, but one is expected, generally, to be up and running in the daytime and socially available in the evenings. Even if my local friends and relatives could deal with me sleeping all day, there’s a lot one just cannot do living like that–same as in any other place.
My two-month hiatus in Berlin enlightened me to the fact that an offset of +8 or +9 is like five times worse than +5 or +6. I can make it work from Western Europe, but Armenia’s just too far away. I really might as well be in China or Australia. There are plenty of people in Armenia who can and do make the remote thing work, but I would suspect that most of them are probably not self-employed entrepreneurs, or at least, not ones who have to do a lot of low-volume, high-depth, consultative relationship building in order to move product. Companies can deal with day-night communication cycles with their overseas developers. If you sell a product that is effectively marketed via the web (AdWords, SEO, links, reviews, etc.), it doesn’t seem to much matter where you are. I sell capital goods, and I have to do so very interactively, and into a tiny, close-knit, and judgmental market community dominated by traditionalists. The more qualitative, interpersonal salesmanship dimension of this requires a lot more socialising from me than I find myself able to consistently sustain all the way from Yerevan.
Besides that, I do have some customers that I see face-to-face, or potentially could see face-to-face. Knowing that I’m way on the other side of the globe, with no cheap or easy way to get back, subconsciously changes the tenor of sales conversations that could lead to on-site work or training, or which could benefit from an in-person meeting back in Atlanta. I have a different attitude toward conferences, which play a fairly big role in my marketing, or, at any rate, they ought to. The sense of being remote–deeply remote, not just a little remote, for Armenia is not a place well-connected to the rest of the world logistically–leads to some level of skittishness and unconscious self-censorship.
I don’t have the ability to do a controlled experiment to compare where I am now with how much more business I would have had if I were sitting in the US this whole time. I haven’t lost any customers over the fact that I’m remote, nor have I encountered any frustrations in sales. However, my sixth sense tells me I’m the victim of some pretty bad attrition on the marketing side. I strongly sense that I’m losing out on opportunities, and my evidence for this is that when I come back to the US even for a little while, the pipeline really starts moving again, even though the topology of my “virtual” relationship with my customers–actual and prospective–doesn’t change. It might just be coincidence, but I don’t think so. There’s something about being in the same place, even if I’m still a figment of the Internet, that makes a difference. I haven’t fully figured out if this is more of a “same place” thing or a “same time zone” issue. I suspect it’s both both, but the time zone matters a lot more.
To the extent that I haven’t paid a heavy price for hanging out in Armenia, it’s because I have ways of limiting the damage. I can and do stay up very late as a matter of innate disposition anyway. I speak with a friendly, idiomatic American accent and don’t give anyone doubts as to the plausibility of my claim to be fundamentally “Atlanta-based”. Aside from the ~170 ms round trip delay on the phone, and the varying hours, I do not create the sensation of working with a truly overseas company, so nobody thinks of paying me offshore rates. Still, I have the sneaking suspicion that if I were to keep this up too much longer, I’d probably start bleeding.
I haven’t tried working from South America yet, which is far away enough for the distance and locale to matter, but essentially in the same time zone. It’s on the bucket list.