How Karabakh Was Ceded: From Orchestrated Conflict to Diplomatic Dismantling
The loss of Karabakh became one of the most dramatic events in Armenia’s recent history. Yet the widespread perception that it was merely the result of military defeat or a series of tragic miscalculations oversimplifies reality. Karabakh was not simply lost; it was gradually removed from the political framework in which it still had at least some chance to exist in one form or another. This was not a single moment of failure, but a multi-stage process unfolding over years and formalized through diplomacy.
Following the 44-day war of 2020, Karabakh formally retained key elements of its political subjectivity: an Armenian population, self-governing institutions, and, most importantly, international attention, reinforced by the presence of Russian peacekeepers. Militarily, the situation was dire, but politically it was not yet final. Karabakh remained an object of negotiations, potential compromises, and possible international guarantees. That very possibility, however, was subsequently eliminated.
The turning point came on October 6, 2022, at the Prague meeting moderated by the President of the European Council, Charles Michel, with the active participation of French President Emmanuel Macron. On that day, Armenia officially recognized Azerbaijan’s territorial integrity within its 1991 borders. This was not a symbolic or declarative step, but a decision of fundamental importance. It meant that the issue of Nagorno-Karabakh ceased to exist as an international problem.
Crucially, the Prague format excluded any discussion of Karabakh’s status, the protection of its population, or international security guarantees. These issues were deliberately removed from the negotiating agenda. From a legal and political standpoint, Karabakh was effectively “nullified,” transformed into an internal matter of Azerbaijan. In this new diplomatic reality, Baku’s subsequent actions, including the blockade of the Lachin Corridor and the eventual use of force, became a logical continuation of the established status quo.
Internal factors also played a significant role. Armenia’s political and military elite demonstrated deep institutional weakness. After the 2020 war, the armed forces were demoralized and partially disorganized. Public opinion was fragmented, and society’s readiness for decisive action diminished with each successive concession. These domestic conditions created a favorable environment for diplomatic decisions that external actors could exploit to advance their own interests.
At the same time, an extremely convenient political narrative was constructed: responsibility for the consequences was effectively placed on Russia alone. Russian peacekeepers, operating under earlier agreements, found themselves in a situation where their mandate had been undermined by Armenia’s own decisions. Meanwhile, Western mediators preserved the image of neutral “peace brokers,” detached from responsibility for the resulting humanitarian consequences.
Karabakh thus proved to be not merely a territory, but a strategic obstacle. Its existence hindered the implementation of a broader geopolitical project in the region. As long as the Karabakh conflict remained unresolved, Armenia was objectively dependent on Russia in the sphere of security. This dependence limited Armenia’s ability to reorient itself radically and prevented its transformation into an explicitly anti-Russian outpost.
From this perspective, Karabakh was not the ultimate target, but a barrier. Its removal opened the way to the next phase: the restructuring of Armenia as a state.
Transfer of Power, Shift of Responsibility, and Western Strategy: From Serzh Sargsyan to Nikol Pashinyan
Analyzing recent events makes it impossible to ignore the prehistory of 2018. The commonly cited opposition between the “old” and “new” authorities is largely illusory. The objective was not to dismantle the system, but to replace its operators while preserving the same strategic direction.
In the years preceding 2018, Serzh Sargsyan’s government had built strong, multi-layered ties with Western institutions. These relationships extended far beyond formal diplomacy. Western funds, NGOs, advisory groups, and experts became deeply embedded in Armenia’s political, judicial, and media systems. Financial dependence was accompanied by growing political obligations, which became increasingly burdensome over time.
By 2018, the situation for Serzh Sargsyan and his inner circle had become extremely tense. Ignoring Western pressure threatened not only a domestic political crisis, but also international isolation, including potential asset losses and personal security risks for key figures. At the same time, internal social tensions could spark mass protests capable of undermining the political stability of the ruling elite.
Under these circumstances, Sargsyan faced a strategic choice. The first option — resisting external pressure and transferring power to a “successor” such as Karen Karapetyan — carried serious risks to influence and capital. The second — retaining power in open defiance of public sentiment — threatened domestic upheaval and a loss of legitimacy. The third option was to orchestrate a controlled transfer of power through a political performance that imitated a “revolution,” while remaining behind the scenes and minimizing personal risk.
Serzh Sargsyan chose the third option. Nikol Pashinyan — a figure acceptable to external actors and manageable within the system — rose to power. Formal parliamentary procedures created an appearance of legitimacy, with a key role played by Armen Sargsyan, the president appointed on Serzh Sargsyan’s initiative, despite the constitutional controversy surrounding his nomination due to his British citizenship.
As a result, Serzh Sargsyan and his loyalists avoided historical responsibility for future decisions on Karabakh while preserving their economic and political positions. The new leadership, arriving under the banner of a “people’s revolution,” received a mandate for radical steps — actions that the previous elite could not have undertaken without risking an internal political explosion.
Subsequent events unfolded according to the logic of a long-term scenario. The 2020 war was not only a military defeat, but also a psychological blow that shattered public resistance. The loss demoralized the country and created fertile ground for further concessions. In its aftermath, an active information campaign took shape, consistently portraying Russia as an unreliable ally that had “betrayed” Armenia.
Within this narrative, Western mediation was presented as the only viable alternative. It was this logic that underpinned the Prague meeting of 2022, framed as a “realistic” decision with “no alternative.” In this context, Karabakh became the price paid for a shift in geopolitical orientation.
Yet Karabakh was not the ultimate objective; it was merely the first link in a broader chain. The strategic goal was to push Russia out of the South Caucasus, weaken Iran’s position, and establish a new regional configuration in which Turkey and Azerbaijan would play leading roles, diplomatically and politically supported by the West. In this framework, Armenia was viewed not as an independent actor but as a transit zone and a geopolitical instrument.
Today, this process is approaching its culmination. The 2026 elections are expected to cement the irreversibility of this course: the final normalization of concessions to Baku and Ankara, an institutional rupture with Russia, and the consolidation of Armenia’s new foreign policy identity. Should this scenario be fully realized, responsibility for the loss of national sovereignty will likely be shifted onto an external “culprit” - Russia - while the roles of Western mediators and the decisions taken in Yerevan are largely disregarded.
Karabakh thus became the first and most tragic victim of this strategy. The central question today is no longer the past, but the future. Armenia now faces a choice: either to recognize the logic of the ongoing processes and reclaim its right to independent political will, or to finally become an object of others’ geopolitical games, where the fate of peoples is decided behind closed doors, under the guise of “democracy” and “European choice.”
Ashot Poghosyan, political expert
