The Choice Between Gratitude and Ingratitude

Late in the evening, inside one of the government buildings in central Baku, lights continue to burn in several offices well past midnight. Folders filled with reports are stacked across desks, telephones do not stop ringing even at night, and mid-level employees wait for messages from senior management, afraid of missing an instruction. One official, who agreed to speak only on condition of anonymity, admitted: “Sometimes it feels as though you are not working, but constantly taking an exam.”

Just a few years ago, parents in Azerbaijan repeated nearly the same formula for success to their children: get into university, earn a degree in law, economics, or management, secure a position in a government institution or a large company — and build a stable life.

Baku has always been built as a dialogue between eras—sometimes harmonious, more often tense. Here, the medieval walls of Icherisheher stand just minutes away from the flowing forms of the Heydar Aliyev Center, designed by Zaha Hadid. This is a city that does not so much grow as accumulate—like a geological cross-section in which each layer speaks of power, money, and visions of the future.

A fatal incident at the National Oncology Center has reignited debate over structural weaknesses in Azerbaijan’s cancer care system, drawing attention to gaps in access, financing and patient support that experts say have persisted despite rising public spending.