In this conversation with Dawn Anahid MacKeen on The Atlas Obscura Podcast, the profound resilience of Stepan Miskjian, a survivor of the Armenian genocide, is explored not merely as a tale of endurance, but as a masterclass in navigating systemic persecution through reinvention and the strategic cultivation of human connection. The non-obvious implication is that survival, and indeed thriving, often hinges on the ability to adapt identities and forge unexpected alliances when faced with overwhelming, dehumanizing forces. This narrative reveals hidden consequences of state-sponsored violence: the erasure of identity, the destruction of community, and the profound psychological toll of bearing witness. MacKeen's journey to retrace her grandfather's steps highlights the importance of confronting historical denial and the enduring power of individual acts of kindness. This is essential reading for anyone seeking to understand the long-term impacts of historical trauma, the mechanics of survival against impossible odds, and the ethical imperative to remember and bear witness. It offers a powerful advantage in understanding human resilience and the systemic forces that seek to extinguish it.

The Hundred-Mile Walk: More Than Just a Journey

In this conversation with Dawn Anahid MacKeen on The Atlas Obscura Podcast, we delve into the extraordinary survival story of her grandfather, Stepan Miskjian, a man who endured the Armenian genocide and a forced march of nearly a thousand miles. While the immediate narrative is one of physical survival, MacKeen's meticulous retracing of her grandfather's steps, guided by his own rediscovered journals, reveals a deeper system of resilience rooted in identity adaptation and the strategic forging of human connections. The obvious takeaway is Stepan's incredible endurance. However, the conversation unveils a more complex truth: that survival against systematic dehumanization is not solely a matter of physical fortitude, but a profound act of psychological and social reinvention.

The conventional understanding of such historical atrocities often focuses on the perpetrators and the sheer scale of loss. What MacKeen's exploration brings to light are the subtle, yet critical, mechanisms of survival employed by individuals like her grandfather. Stepan’s ability to "reinvent himself," as MacKeen describes, was not a mere personality quirk but a vital survival strategy. In a system designed to strip Armenians of their identity and humanity, Stepan’s capacity to adapt, to temporarily shed his identity and adopt new ones, allowed him to navigate treacherous landscapes and evade immediate danger. This highlights a critical system dynamic: when a system actively seeks to erase individuals, the most potent form of resistance can be the ability to persist and adapt, creating a form of invisibility that shields one from the system's direct impact. The immediate problem of survival is solved, but the hidden consequence is the constant psychological strain of maintaining these shifting identities, a burden Stepan carried throughout his life.

MacKeen’s journey to retrace her grandfather’s path underscores the insufficiency of simply knowing the facts of a historical event. Her mother’s initial reluctance, fearing the reawakening of trauma, and Stepan’s own lifelong silence about the most harrowing parts of his experience, speak to the profound difficulty of confronting such profound loss. The system of denial perpetuated by the Turkish government, as MacKeen notes, adds another layer of complexity, forcing survivors and their descendants to actively bear witness against erasure. This conversation, therefore, is not just about a historical event; it is about the enduring human need to understand, to connect with the past, and to ensure that stories of survival, however painful, are not lost. It sets up the deeper system dynamics at play: how personal narratives intersect with national denial, how individual resilience can defy systemic oppression, and how the act of bearing witness itself becomes a form of resistance.

The Alphabet Parade: When Celebration Becomes a Pretext

Stepan Miskjian, born in Adabazar in the late 1880s, was a man who possessed a remarkable capacity for reinvention. His early life, as recounted by his granddaughter Dawn Anahid MacKeen, was marked by a spirit of mischief and an innate ability to adapt. He was a man who could "call up his friends in the middle of the day and tell them, 'Oh, you know, we're having a meeting, you must come now,'" a playful deception that masked a deeper talent for connection and community building. This inherent adaptability, MacKeen argues, was a crucial precursor to his survival during the Armenian genocide.

The initial signs that the environment was becoming hostile were not overt acts of violence, but subtle shifts in perception and official response. MacKeen points to an alphabet parade celebrating the 1500th anniversary of the Armenian alphabet. For the Armenians, this was a moment of cultural pride, a public affirmation of their heritage. However, the Ottoman authorities viewed this celebration of identity through a nationalist lens, interpreting it as a potential threat. The skirmish that ensued, resulting in the death of an Ottoman soldier, was not the cause of the impending tragedy, but rather a catalyst that intensified existing tensions. This event demonstrates a critical system dynamic: how the celebration of a minority group's distinct identity can be reframed by a dominant power as an act of defiance, thereby justifying increased scrutiny and repression. The immediate consequence was a shift in the town's tenor, a chilling foreshadowing of the systemic violence to come. The superficial problem of a parade dispute escalated into a pretext for state-sanctioned persecution.

The Labor Battalion: Identity Under Duress

When World War I erupted, Stepan, at 28 years old, was conscripted into a labor battalion. As an Armenian, his service was not on the front lines but within units tasked with arduous physical labor, such as moving rocks and building roads. This was a common tactic employed by the Ottoman government, a way to disarm and exploit Armenian men while simultaneously fueling the narrative of Armenian disloyalty. His family, his mother, sisters, and brother, remained in Adabazar. The year after the war began, the deportation orders for Armenians were issued. Stepan’s family was sent eastward by train, eventually settling in Chai, in the interior of what is now Turkey. Stepan’s own battalion was also pushed eastward.

This period illustrates the immediate consequence of state policy: the systematic separation of families and the forced displacement of an entire population. The labor battalion, while seemingly a practical measure of wartime conscription, served a dual purpose. It removed Armenian men from their communities, weakening any potential for organized resistance, and it subjected them to brutal conditions that often led to death. The system here operates by weaponizing labor, turning individuals into tools for the state's infrastructure projects while simultaneously marginalizing them as a suspect population. The hidden cost is the dehumanization inherent in being treated as expendable labor, a precursor to the more overt violence that followed. Stepan’s eventual escape from this battalion was not an end to his ordeal, but the beginning of a far more perilous phase.

The Desert March: Survival Through Shifting Sands

Stepan’s escape from the labor battalion plunged him into the heart of the genocide. He found himself among other deportees, living in makeshift encampments, and then forced into marches across treacherous terrain with minimal provisions. The narrative here is stark: "People die along the way, but the deportees are forced to keep walking." This relentless movement, devoid of sustenance or shelter, was designed not just to displace, but to annihilate. The system’s goal was to break the spirit and the body, to make survival an impossibility. The immediate effect is the brutal physical toll, but the downstream consequence is the psychological erosion of hope and the normalization of death as a constant companion.

It was in this desperate state, marching into the Syrian desert, that Stepan encountered a turning point. He heard of a respected sheikh, Sheikh Hamud Oglah, and approached him, adopting the Muslim name "Mustafa" in an attempt to conceal his Armenian identity. This act of adopting a false identity is a powerful example of consequence mapping in action. The immediate need was to blend in, to avoid detection by those who would see him as an enemy. The hidden consequence of this act, however, was the risk of further alienating himself from his own heritage, a constant internal negotiation between survival and identity.

Remarkably, the sheikh was not fooled. He recognized Stepan’s true identity, yet instead of turning him away, he offered sanctuary. "Tell me your real name," he said, "and come, come." He took Stepan in, offering him work as a shepherd. The description of Stepan’s disbelief at being offered food, of being treated as a human being again, is poignant. "He became a human again. He had dignity again. He had a family again." The sheikh and his clan became Stepan's new family. This act of kindness was not merely a charitable gesture; it was a profound intervention that rerouted Stepan’s destiny. The sheikh saw Stepan not as a member of a demonized group, but as an individual in need. This decision, a single act of compassion, had a cascading positive effect, saving not only Stepan but ensuring the continuation of his family line for five generations. This illustrates a crucial system dynamic: while the state apparatus was designed for destruction, individual acts of humanity could create counter-flows of safety and preservation, demonstrating that even within a system of oppression, human agency and empathy can create pockets of resistance and hope. The delayed payoff of this act was immense, creating a lineage that would otherwise have been extinguished.

The Sheikh's Hotline: Reconnecting Threads of Humanity

Years later, Dawn Anahid MacKeen embarked on her own journey to retrace her grandfather’s path. This endeavor was fraught with emotional and logistical challenges. Her mother, understandably, harbored deep fears about revisiting the land of her father's trauma. Stepan himself had never returned to Turkey, a testament to the profound impact of his experiences. MacKeen’s desire to understand, however, propelled her forward. "I had to see the land that he walked, and I had to see the desert that he survived and so many others did not." This act of retracing is a form of consequence mapping across time, attempting to bridge the gap between historical record and lived experience.

A pivotal moment in MacKeen’s journey was the discovery of the descendants of Sheikh Hamud Oglah. This search was facilitated by another local sheikh, who, acting like a "sheikh hotline," leveraged his network to find the family. The scene of their reunion is powerfully described: hundreds of people gathered, descendants of the sheikh who had saved Stepan, all eager to meet the granddaughter of the man he had rescued. They welcomed MacKeen with open arms, showering her with kindness and sharing stories passed down through generations. This moment highlights the enduring legacy of the sheikh’s act. It wasn't just a personal salvation; it was an act that rippled through time, creating a tangible connection between past and present. The immediate benefit for Stepan was life and dignity. The long-term payoff was the preservation of his family and the creation of a profound intergenerational bond.

The descendants shared details about Stepan, recalling his swimming ability and other personal attributes, demonstrating that his time with them was not merely as a servant but as a valued member of their community. They noted that Stepan was the only one of the Armenians the sheikh had taken in who had eventually left. This suggests that while Stepan was deeply integrated into his new community, the pull of his original identity and the desire to reconnect with his own people, or perhaps simply to find a more permanent safety, eventually led him to move on. This interaction underscores how individual choices, even within the context of profound historical events, continue to shape destinies. The act of bearing witness, which Stepan undertook through his writings, and MacKeen’s subsequent journey, serve as a powerful counter-narrative to the denial of these atrocities.

Bearing Witness: The Unfinished Reckoning

Stepan Miskjian eventually made his way to the United States, settling in Los Angeles and rebuilding his life. He lived a long life, a chain smoker, perhaps with a defiant resilience, as MacKeen suggests: "If that couldn't get me, this won't get me." This attitude speaks to a profound psychological adaptation, a refusal to be defined solely by victimhood.

The phrase "never again" echoes after genocides, yet history has shown its tragic inadequacy. Stepan, as a survivor, had to grapple with this reality. His response, as MacKeen explains, was to become a witness. He spent years writing his story, serializing it in a newspaper in the 1960s under the title I Survived the Hell of Der Zor. This was not just an act of remembrance; it was a form of protest against the Turkish government's persistent denial of the genocide. By documenting his experiences, Stepan actively countered the erasure of his people's history.

MacKeen's own research corroborated her grandfather's account, finding other testimonies that matched his details and uncovering historical documents that confirmed the scale of the genocide. The fact that this genocide has been denied for so long, despite overwhelming evidence, is a stark illustration of how political narratives can actively suppress historical truth. Stepan’s resilience was not just in surviving the physical ordeal, but in his ability to process immense loss and trauma without succumbing to hate. He remembered the Turks who had helped him and the Arab sheikh who saved his life, holding onto these acts of humanity.

This offers a profound lesson: the importance of looking past rhetoric that seeks to divide and demonize. In a world where marginalized communities are often cast as "the other," Stepan's story is a powerful reminder to use one's voice to speak out against injustice and to recognize the shared humanity that transcends ethnic and national divides. The immediate consequence of bearing witness is the potential for personal catharsis and the fulfillment of a moral imperative. The long-term advantage is the contribution to a collective historical memory, a bulwark against future atrocities and a testament to the enduring spirit of those who have suffered.

Key Action Items

• Immediately: Begin documenting personal or family histories that may be at risk of being lost. This requires no special tools, just dedicated time to listen and record.
• Within the next quarter: Seek out and read accounts from marginalized communities or historical periods where official narratives may be incomplete or contested. This broadens understanding of systemic impacts.
• Over the next 6 months: Identify opportunities to support initiatives that preserve historical memory or combat historical denial, whether through donations, volunteering, or amplifying their message.
• This year: Practice active listening when encountering differing perspectives, particularly those that challenge your own assumptions. This builds the capacity for empathy, a crucial tool for navigating complex human systems.
• This year: Reflect on personal instances where discomfort or difficulty led to a greater understanding or a more robust outcome. Recognize these as opportunities for growth, not just obstacles.
• Over the next 12-18 months: Invest time in understanding the full causal chain of decisions, both personal and professional. Before acting, ask: "What are the likely downstream consequences, both immediate and delayed?"
• Ongoing: Cultivate a practice of recognizing and valuing acts of kindness, especially those that extend beyond immediate social circles or perceived group affiliations. These are the counter-currents to systemic dehumanization and often create the most enduring positive impacts.