The announcement of the return of the four non-enclave villages of Baghanis Ayrim, Ashagi Askipara, Kheyrimli, and Gizilhajili comes as a welcome development. Situated in that part of Azerbaijan’s Gazakh region under Armenian control since the early 1990s, they were initially mentioned in an early version of the November trilateral ceasefire statement before being removed from the final version. In January, President Ilham Aliyev raised them again and after the issue became central to the work of the border commissions, Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan last month acknowledged that they were indeed not de jure part of the Republic of Armenia.

Whatever his reasons, Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan made a bold,  courageous, and some would argue, necessary move by doing so, despite the ire it would inevitably attract. A sea of disinformation and existential narratives re-emerged but rather than backtrack he instead visited local settlements adjacent to the provisional border to assure residents that their concerns, real or perceived, would be addressed by the government. This focus on those Armenian settlements also highlighted how they had hitherto been ignored by almost everyone.

 

Even prior to the 44-day War, Tavush had been a frontline in the conflict between the two countries, quite unlike that part of the Armenian border adjacent to the then occupied Azerbaijani regions of Kelbajar, Lachin, Qubadli, and Zangilan. With the exception of the non-enclaves discussed today, Gazakh was not otherwise taken and remained populated by Azerbaijan. With a distinct lack of adequate road communication to other parts of Tavush, the area around Noyemberyan and Voskepar often felt isolated in the administrative region. Poverty and out-migration was high and some arable land was unreachable because of landmines planted along the border. The potential dividends from the new deal for this small part of Armenia are therefore not insignificant, if development follows.

 

It was always assumed that the US had geopolitical interests in facilitating an Armenia-Azerbaijan peace, just as Russia does. Now it was official. As a result, in recent days, some opposition commentators now no longer talk of a conspiracy to link Turkiye with Central Asia through a Zangezur Corridor, but what they sarcastically refer to as the Washington Corridor.

 

[…]

 

But there is reason for hope. One of the main concerns of those protesting is that one of two main routes from Armenia to Georgia passes through a small part of territory soon to be returned, though a bypass will likely be constructed. Ironically, its final destination is the ethnic Azerbaijani border village of Sadakhlo in Georgia, itself part of the majority ethnic Azerbaijani Marneuli municipality. Not only does all of Armenia’s passenger traffic via those two roads pass through that region with no problem, but so too does a sizeable amount of freight. Inter-ethnic trade already exists, albeit in that third country, while the issue of crossing the border by accident is addressed even for ethnic Armenians in Georgia that inadvertently get lost.

The full opinion piece is available here. 

Nikol Pashinyan is a populist. Whether on the domestic or international scene, it is difficult to consider him a statesman. Populism defines his words and permeates his actions. But in comparison with those leaders before him, he is also a rarity in Armenia’s post-independence history – he is a democratically elected leader. Despite the devastating defeat in Armenia’s recent war with Azerbaijan in 2020, Pashinyan emerged victorious in snap parliamentary elections held just seven months later.

But democratically elected does not necessarily mean democratically inclined. On the same campaign trail, Pashinyan brandished a steel hammer, adorned with a ribbon in the colours of the Armenian flag. It was intended to “fall down” on “empty heads,” he said. When a complaint was filed with the constitutional court, he emerged victorious again. The hammer, it was claimed, symbolised a “dictatorship of law and justice,” not an incitement to violence.

 

Despite concerns about such rhetoric, it hardly changed anything. Running against candidates from two former regimes helped. Pashinyan was more skilled in communicating with the masses and seen as a better choice. He was also ready to embrace nationalism when necessary. In the 2018 street protests that propelled him to power, he donned a camouflage t-shirt and grew his beard, co-opting the image of a fedayi ready to fight and die for his country on behalf of the people.

 

Mobilising symbolism and props by political leaders is not new, of course. They “serve as a visual metaphor, as a metonym, as a concrete illustration of an abstract concept, or […] evidence that a certain event took place,” a December 2020 paper on their use by Israel’s Binyamin Netanyahu explained. “[They] echo and accentuate the identity and worldview of the speaker, but may also give rise to meanings that undermine the speaker’s intention.”

 

[…]

 

Perhaps, if populism arguably contributed to the last war and the loss of Karabakh it could also be used to usher in a new era of peace and regional integration, coincidentally relegating nationalist narratives and mythologies of old to the annuls of history. It will also prove instrumental to maintaining Pashinyan’s rule. In 2013 he already used the slogan of “Real Armenia” but at that time to rally for an Armenia without Serzh Sargsyan. In 2018 it succeeded.

The full analysis is available here.