Why journalists are leaving the profession: three personal stories from Armenia
Why Armenian journalists are leaving the profession
In recent years, a clear trend has emerged in Armenia: experienced journalists with long careers are choosing to leave the profession. Why is this happening? We asked them directly.
Some have already found themselves in new careers, while others are still searching. Here are the stories of three former journalists.
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From journalism to cooking
Anna Satyan is a journalist with 23 years of experience. She left the profession and now dreams of opening her own small restaurant — something unique, unlike others.
“Journalism is not just a job, it is a way of life. You live in a reality where your life and work merge into one. The profession has a rhythm that becomes addictive. It has a dynamic that makes you feel useless without it. But after years, you suddenly realise you no longer want to write and start dreaming about something else,” she says.
Anna Satyan spent 11 years as deputy editor-in-chief of the newspaper Novoye Vremya. She then edited the Style section at news.am for five years. At the same time, she taught at the Faculty of Journalism at the Russian-Armenian (Slavonic) University. She decided to leave the profession while editing yet another article.
“Working with letters and words started to make me feel unwell. I thought maybe I was just tired, that I would go on holiday, rest, and it would pass. But it didn’t. I wrote about politics, the economy, everything. I worked 24/7. I had to stay available at any time of day, anywhere in the world. One day, I realised I didn’t want to live at that pace,” Anna says.
She lists several reasons that, together, pushed her to resign:
“After the 2020 war, something broke inside me. Then I had a severe case of коронавирус. It was a difficult, depressive period. To be honest, I felt uneasy in that reality. I lost the sense of comfort and harmony. I also no longer had people I wanted to work with. I began to see my work as meaningless.
I still don’t see myself in that reality. It’s sad, but true. I see a decline in intellectual standards around me. I don’t want to sound like a snob, but I went to press conferences and felt struck by the lack of clear thinking. And finally, I simply did not want to write anymore. I didn’t even want to turn on my computer.”
In 2023, she enrolled at the Yeremyan Projects Academy of Culinary Arts and Hospitality. She believes that running a restaurant requires a deep understanding of how a kitchen works.
“I enjoyed studying for six months. Then I completed a one-month internship and passed my exams. We studied cooking techniques and chemical processes. Cooking is chemistry. Sometimes we spent the whole day cutting carrots. For example, one hour cutting them large, another into thin strips, until our hands learned the movements and they became automatic. When I cut carrots, I felt relaxed. My thoughts were no longer like they were in journalism. I liked that,” Anna says.
The idea of opening a restaurant is still at an early stage, but she has already developed a business plan and menu:
“Even a small place like the one I imagine requires serious investment. People say the menu I created is very strong. They suggest I sell it and offer large sums of money. But no, I keep it for myself. I could take a bank loan or invest everything I have, but the risks are high. I feel an inner hesitation. I see how restaurants open and close. Some people take that risk easily. They think: if it works, great; if not, so be it. But I can’t think that way. I need to build a team and plan everything down to the smallest detail.”
For now, Anna runs a blog on a wide range of topics, sharing content on cooking, music and perfumery:
“Will this bring me back to journalism? I don’t know, I’m still figuring things out. I’ve accumulated so much — knowledge about music, perfumery, cuisine. I listen to different podcasts. I’ve immersed myself in all of this and want to share my new experience. It feels like I’ve gathered all my potential into a box that I want to share, and I’m sitting with it, thinking.”
She admits she still does not know where she wants to work:
“I probably no longer want to work for someone else. I want to have my own business, but I’m still in a state of uncertainty. At the same time, I need self-expression, which is why I started the blog.”
From journalism to embroidery
Journalist Kristine Khanumyan has started creating embroidered artworks and unique, hand-embroidered bags. Her grandmother and mother practised embroidery, but she never saw herself following that path.
“My grandmother was a weaver and worked at a silk factory, while my mother was a professional fashion designer. I grew up surrounded by threads, needles and fabrics. I found myself immersed in that world from childhood. But I always believed it was not for me, that I did not have enough patience.
I worked as a journalist for many years, but at some point I felt it was over. This began during the blockade of Artsakh. I understood in advance where things were heading, yet deep down I still hoped for something. Then I saw that nothing was happening, and my instincts proved right. I saw not only the end of my homeland, but also the end of my journalistic path. So I turned to embroidery,” she says.
The journalist worked in the former, unrecognised Nagorno-Karabakh Republic, writing for the newspapers Azat Artsakh (Free Artsakh) and Demo. From 2005, she contributed to Armenian outlets including Haykakan Zhamanak (Armenian Time), Zhamanak (Time), Chorrord Ishkhanutyun (Fourth Power), and from 2012 to 2023 to the website iLur.am.
She says journalism always held deep importance for her.
In 2012, when she began covering negotiations on the Karabakh conflict, she felt a heightened sense of responsibility. She was now reporting on the very question of whether her homeland would continue to exist.
She says two main reasons led her to leave the profession:
“In 2023, my narrow specialisation effectively disappeared. [In September 2023, a decree ended the existence of the NKR.] I could only explain why things had turned out this way. The second reason is that the media landscape changed. Media outlets turned into defenders either of the current government or of the former authorities. I no longer see neutral journalism. For me, journalism cannot be propaganda. That is why I decided to leave.”
She does not regret leaving the profession and has no intention of returning. She says she may one day write about how the negotiation process unfolded:
“But that text will have nothing to do with journalism, especially modern journalism. My current work demands far greater intellectual effort and creative thinking. I needed to do something fundamentally different — something artistically meaningful. I grew up in this environment and saw how beautiful work is created. I made this decision in a single day. I realised I did not need to look far or reinvent the wheel. I simply needed to return to my roots.”
From journalism to tourism and grooming
Journalist, marketing and social media specialist Eleonora Araratyan gradually realised that life was changing and pulling her away from the work she once loved:
“It became difficult for me to go to interviews. I would spend days working on a single piece. That made me realise I no longer wanted to write. I didn’t want to open my computer, read or write articles and press releases. I understood that I could no longer do this.”
After graduating from the Russian-Armenian (Slavonic) University in Yerevan, Eleonora went to Moscow to study at the Higher School of Economics. She later worked at the ARKA news agency and for the outlets Tert.am and Mediamax.
“My development as a journalist took place at Mediamax. I always saw journalism as a social responsibility — a way to solve problems. But after 2014, that role started to lose its value. Problems stopped being resolved. Journalists had once enjoyed respect, but something changed during that period. Funding departments in newsrooms began to grow. Advertising, banners and press releases became more important, while original reporting moved into the background. That suffocated journalism,” she says.
After the 2018 “Velvet Revolution”, she believes many people in Armenia began to see themselves as journalists and bloggers:
“Social media turned into a platform where anyone can speak out. Everyone started to see themselves as specialists or experts, and to treat their opinions as valid and important. I realised that both of my professions were losing value, and I could lose my job at any moment. I think you always need a plan B and additional skills. In this world, at this stage of life, when you are no longer young, you have to think about the future,” says the 42-year-old former journalist.
After returning from Moscow, she began hosting visitors from Russia from time to time, showing them around Armenia and introducing them to its landmarks.
“At first, it was a hobby. But I have now completed courses and qualified as a guide. I work with Russian tourists and organise hiking trips. I am also a member of the Armenian Mountaineering Federation. I enjoy interacting with people. It’s a very active and dynamic job,” she says.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, Eleonora got a dog, which eventually led her to pursue another profession:
“Since last year, I have been working as a groomer. Tourism and grooming are seasonal for me. I want to open my own grooming salon. I won a grant in a competition for women entrepreneurs, so I may soon be able to start my own business.”
Eleonora says her outlook on life and her role has changed over time:
“I now prefer physical work and like to see tangible results. Once someone told me: ‘You have two higher education degrees, and now you cut dogs’ hair?’ It upset me. I respect any kind of work, but those words still hurt. I wondered if I had made a mistake by leaving a profession I had worked in for so many years. But my friends told me I am simply versatile and capable of achieving anything. That comforted me. Journalism, PR and marketing now help me both in tourism and in working with dogs. I combine all of it.”
Why Armenian journalists are leaving the profession
Why Armenian journalists are leaving the profession
Why Armenian journalists are leaving the profession
Why Armenian journalists are leaving the profession
