Armenia, the Regional Powers, and the West: Between History and Geopolitics

Armenia, the Regional Powers, and the West

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Armenia, the Regional Powers, and the West Between History And Geopolitics

Alla Mirzoyan

ARMENIA, THE REGIONAL POWERS, AND THE WEST Copyright © Alla Mirzoyan, 2010. All rights reserved. First published in 2010 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN® in the United States – a division of St. Martin’s Press LLC, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010. Where this book is distributed in the UK, Europe and the rest of the world, this is by Palgrave Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited, registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS. Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above companies and has companies and representatives throughout the world. Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries. ISBN: 978-0-230-61866-4 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data. Mirzoyan, Alla. Armenia, the regional powers, and the West: between history and geopolitics / Alla Mirzoyan. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978-0-230-61866-4 (alk. paper) 1. Armenia (Republic)—Foreign relations. 2. World politics—1989– I. Title. DK687.54.M57 2010 327.47590182'1—dc22 2009029520 A catalogue record of the book is available from the British Library. Design by MPS Limited, A Macmillan Company First edition: April 2010 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Printed in the United States of America.

To my parents

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Contents

Acknowledgments

ix

Introduction

1

Research Landscape Basic Parameters of Armenia’s Security Environment Chapter Outline

4 9 16

1

Russia: “The Indispensable Ally?”

21

Introduction History and Perceptions The Battle of the Narratives 1991–1998: The Deem Reality 1998–2005: The End of Platonic Love Conclusion

21 22 25 30 39 53

Turkey: “The Other”

55

2

3

Introduction A Glance at History 1991–1998: The Chimera of “Pragmatism” 1998–2005: A Never Ending Story? Conclusion

55 59 62 89 106

Iran: “The Permanent Alternative”

107

Introduction Careful Engagement Conclusion

107 108 132

viii

4

Contents

The West: “Ambiguous Modern”

135

Introduction Armenia and the United States European Institutions Conclusion

135 137 161 173

Conclusion: “Ideational Redlines” and “Structural Dynamics” 175 Notes

179

Bibliography

215

Index

239

Acknowledgments

This book represents a culmination of my doctoral dissertation and research. I would like to express my deep appreciation and gratitude to those who accompanied and inspired me through the process of writing it. To Mohiaddin Mesbahi, whose near-infinite knowledge of the region, geopolitics, and theory has opened for me new horizons of thinking and looking at the world. To Charles MacDonald, whose keen perspective, kindness, and patience greatly facilitated my transition into the doctoral program. To Damian Fernandez, whose passion and probing mind forced me to look more deeply into my research. To Brian Nelson, whose vitality, humor and wonderful seminars in political and social theory inspired me to venture into new avenues of knowledge. I would also like to thank Antonio Jorge, Nicholas Onuf, and John Clark for their kindness and guidance. This research could not have been completed without the generous support from Florida International University Dissertation Year Fellowship and the Department of International Relations. I would also like to thank IREX Short-Term Travel grants for providing me with an opportunity to travel to Armenia for research. My profound appreciation goes to my friends and family: my brother, Armen, without whose love and support this work would not have been possible; my dear friend Majid Al-Khalili whose intelligent insights, wise advice, and continuous support have been indispensable; Rita Sabat whose grace and strong spirit has motivated me; Misak and Goar Sargsians whose kindness and hospitality I will never forget; and Andrew Correa for making me laugh when I most needed it. Throughout this project I could always count on encouragement, love, and support of my husband and dear friend, Alexander Barder. His intelligence and knowledge has been a source of inspiration. This work is forever entwined with the birth of my son, Robert, who changed my life. Most important, I would like to deeply thank my parents, Robert and Roza Mirzoyan, for being my guiding light. I dedicate this work to them.

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Introduction This study of Armenia’s foreign relations is an interpretative analysis that incorporates insights from history, anthropology, and security studies. It puts into practice a multidisciplinary and holistic methodology to illuminate the various relationships that have emerged between Armenia and the regional powers since independence in 1991. To an extent, this approach is dictated by the realities of Armenian foreign policy as a practice that had to meet several and often conflicting objectives. Among the most important ones involved mediating the effects of the Nagorno-Karabakh on Armenia’s regional position by seeking alignments with the outside actors; enhancing Armenia’s image on the international arena; serving as a vehicle for the diaspora’s campaign for genocide recognition; synchronizing Armenia’s diplomacy with Armenia’s defense needs; defending elite’s corporate interest. The Nagorno-Karabakh conflict has been so consequential for Armenia’s foreign policy that is it often difficult to extrapolate a policy that is not a response to the existing stalemate. Because of its crucial significance for Armenia’s security environment, it refracts Armenia’s own relationships with the outside world often becoming the most important single variable that defines Armenia’s foreign policy trajectory. This highly charged emotional space that the conflict occupies urges the view of foreign policy making as a continuous exercise in identity making. In addition to being a direct consequence of a willful choice of the Armenians of Nagorno-Karabakh to pursue the cause of self-determination, the conflict is the filter through which all major foreign policy decisions go through. As will be demonstrated later in the book, it forces Armenia’s leadership to constantly reshape and rearticulate the narrative of Armenian identity. This understanding of Armenian security identity rooted in history, both pre-Soviet and post-Soviet, and the regional dimensions of its foreign policy are paramount and can be revealed through the analysis of Yerevan’s relations with Russia, Turkey, Iran, and the West. By investigating the question of why Armenia has chosen certain strategies toward these four centers of power, my goal is to arrive at important conclusions about the change and continuity in Armenia’s perception of

2

Armenia, the Regional Powers, and the West

the world, about the collective interest formation, and, as a derivative, about how much of identity and emotion is carried over into the political space. Second, this study of Armenian foreign policy toward regional powers and the West helps to conceptually understand the foreign policies of small states such as Armenia in highly complex conditions, constituted by domestic sociopolitical challenges, a conflictive regional environment, and global instability. The study of four sets of relationships, placed within their historical context and narrated through the chronological unraveling of main events since Armenia’s independence, allows a dissection of the most substantial challenges and opportunities facing Yerevan. The analysis of Turkish, Iranian, Russian, and the U.S. foreign policy toward the Southern Caucasus, and Armenia specifically, on the other hand, captures important shifts in the global politics and illustrates how the global informs the local and vice versa. While I devote much place to the role of the formative events of Armenian pre-Soviet history, the post-Soviet phenomenon is no less important in accounting for the style and mentality of the principal decision-makers. As the name indicates, the term “post-Soviet” attempts to capture the elusive, the “in-between” stage of transition, in which the legacy of the old system has direct social and political effects on the current one. Unlike “post-Socialism” that marks more global, broader, and much more diverse experience, “post-Soviet” delineates a peculiar geographical and sociopolitical belonging.1 Filtered through the Armenian postindependence context, this general “post-Soviet” reality assumes a unique complexity that is impossible to fit into one pattern, particularly when analyzing foreign policy. Some of the most significant elements of Armenia’s political system are directly linked to its Soviet experience and the legacy of the collapse. Among them is the highly emotional issue of Nagorno-Karabakh, a highly militarized culture that has sprung in response to the conflict, social apathy resulting from the economic collapse at the end of the Soviet Union, a general sense of disorientation, and the subsequent concentration of power and wealth in the hands of a few. Despite the presence of such a strong mobilizing issue and a firm sense of national identity, the country’s foreign policy has been continuously criticized for being “a-national,” lacking substance and direction in the face of growing global challenges.2 The foreign policy decision-making process was overtaken by a tightly knit group of individuals, which allows some to speak of the “privatization” of Armenian foreign policy on the issues of critical importance to the nation as a whole such as ArmenianTurkish relations and Nagorno-Karabakh.3 It is argued that “Armenia and the Armenian people” find themselves in a “systemic crisis embracing the

Introduction

3

political, economic, cultural, moral, ideological and socio-psychological spheres,” in the conditions of the “de-facto absence of a national state.”4 Foreign policy comes to be seen as yet another demonstration of Armenia’s impotence in the face of the regional and international realities. Another important dimension of this study is regional geopolitics. Armenia is part of the greater game unraveling in the Southern Caucasus. Within their hierarchy of regional security complexes, Barry Buzan and Ole Weaver define the Southern Caucasus as a “complicated mini-complex” within a larger Russia-centered complex, the CIS (Commonwealth of Independent States). However, I would argue that the Southern Caucasus could be seen as a separate regional security complex because it has selfcontained security dynamics based on enduring patterns of amity and enmity. Although the authors admit that “the relative robustness of the new states has surprised many and conflicts are now driven primarily by the regional actors themselves,” they give it only a passing thought: “Still, Russian influence remains very strong, and CIS politics the primary arena, so the region continues to be a subcomplex within the post-Soviet RSC.”5 Considering that no other region within the CIS, with an exception of Central Asia, has such multiple security dynamics surrounding the core three countries, this study will look at the Southern Caucasus as a separate analytical unit not connected to the CIS. Its security dynamics are defined both by the internal conflicts and the alignments each country pursues with the outside players—Russia, Turkey, Iran, and the West (United States and Europe). Within the context of the post-9/11 world, small states like Armenia, Georgia, and Azerbaijan have been transformed from being mere subjects of regional politics into objects capable of affecting the interests of global actors. The South Caucasus seems to be less remote now that the U.S. geopolitical focus has been zoomed in onto the Middle East and Afghanistan and any development in a previously marginal region becomes critical. It is a unique region with multiple security dynamics that has evolved from being Russia’s “soft underbelly” in the early 1990s into an important component in the geopolitical mosaic of the “greater Middle East.” This transformation signifies an important cognitive leap in the way the region is perceived externally. Making it more intricate is a virtual absence of a “region” as an internalized reality. The very term “Southern Caucasus,” defined as consisting of three states, Armenia, Georgia, and Azerbaijan, it could be argued, is an externally imposed, Western linguistic construct that was adopted by the elite of the regional states in their foreign policy rhetoric but that hardly reflects the reality of their views of their immediate environments. This term has mutated from the Soviet-originated “Transcaucasus,” binding

4

Armenia, the Regional Powers, and the West

together three republics with tumultuous pasts, full of mutual grievances, and unresolved conflicts. Once the structure of the Soviet order dissolved, these “cryogenically” preserved conflicts exploded with a new intensity bringing to the fore issues of historical memory and reckoning. Unsettled scores between Armenia and Azerbaijan over Nagorno-Karabakh, between Armenia and Georgia over Javakhetia—albeit of a lesser intensity—and Georgia’s internal ethnic conundrum make the basic parameters of the regional environment very uncertain. The only instance when the three states become a region is when they are linked together by a grand geopolitical map put forth by the United States, the European Union, Turkey, or Iran. Russia is a different story, however, because it is used to perceiving the entire Caucasus, both Southern and Northern, as a single geographical and geopolitical construct that highlights its Russian historical legacy and belonging. Nonetheless, this study uses the term “Southern Caucasus” to demarcate it as a separate geopolitical unit, freed of its Russian affiliation. Research Landscape Ironically, it is perhaps because of these complex political realities that the foreign policies of Soviet successor states are one of the lesser-explored issues in the discipline of post-Soviet/Eurasian studies. While a variety of domestic issues such as electoral politics, domestic social issues, and economic development have occupied the minds of Western scholars, little attention is given to the way these states perceive external challenges and adjust themselves to the outside world. Part of the problem lies in the unproblematized perception of the newly independent states as pawns of the interest of the regional and global power play unleashed as a result of the collapse of the Soviet Union. There seems to be no doubt in the minds of scholars assessing the behavior of Eurasian states that “the decisive factor is their position in the regional and global hierarchy of power.”6 This dominant paradigm contends that the former Soviet republics at large are engaged in reactive policies vis-à-vis Russia and the West, with some scholars going as far as to state that rather than having a foreign policy, they merely “engage in foreign relations.”7 In addition, smaller states such as Armenia are almost entirely bypassed in the analysis because their individual voices have been pronounced lost at the crossroads of regional geopolitics. This bird’s eye view is understandable considering the general preoccupation of the literature with mapping out the trajectories of postcommunist development and transition. For all too long, states like Armenia have been seen as a part of a larger formation, be it the Soviet Union,

Introduction

5

the CIS, or included into a broad category of postcommunist states. Indigenous works on Armenia’s relations with the outside do well in illuminating the Armenian perspective, however, they are either in Russian or Armenian and thus inaccessible to the American audience or cursory in their attempt to provide a general overview of the Armenian foreign policy.8 A foundational review of early domestic debates surrounding Armenia’s relations with Russia and Turkey can be found in the edited work by Gerard Libaridian, former national security adviser to Armenia’s first president, Levon Ter-Petrosyan.9 Although partially sympathetic to the president, a view not shared by many contemporary Armenian scholars, this account tellingly depicts the worldview of the Armenian elites and the core issues surrounding major foreign policy decisions at the dawn of independence. Most importantly, it illustrates a particular historical narrative of the Armenian history, from which most of Levon Ter-Petrosyan’s actions on the international fronts were derived. Because history was so essential in laying out the cognitive map of the world and in providing “instant” material and information about the neighbors and the West, this book taps into the existing interdisciplinary literature at the juncture of anthropology, nationalism studies, and historiography. As R. G. Suny suggests, Identity formation as a process of self-definition and definition of the Other is intimately connected to the generation of threat perception. “National Histories” may be investigated not so much to discover the “real” story behind the Serb-Albanian conflict in Kosovo or the Armenian-Azerbaijani hostility in Karabakh but rather to assess how particular conceptualizations of nationhood contribute to notions of national interest and threats to national security.10

Several rich works have been produced in the recent years namely Levon Abrahamian’s Armenian Identity in a Changing World (2006) and Razmik Panossian’s The Armenians: From Kings and Priests to Merchants and Commissars (2006). Both of these works address an important issue of the identity transformation in changing historical conditions and the fluidity of historical narratives but they do so from two different symbolic and geographical locales: Armenia and the diaspora. Abrahamian, an Eastern Armenian and a witness of the postindependence political turmoil provides insights into the anthropological aspects of the Armenian national movement, and identity dynamics in the post-Soviet period. He is preoccupied with the inner workings of “particularity” in Armenia’s post-independence context and strives to outline the main characteristics of the Armenian identity.11 Panossian, a diasporan Armenian, casts

6

Armenia, the Regional Powers, and the West

a broader look at the modern Armenian history and the evolution of the Armenian nationalism within various unique socio-political, geographical, and historical contexts. He argues that in the nineteenth century and early twentieth century, [t]he political ideology behind Armenian nationalism was the product of various influences based on the western, eastern and central points of its source. All these influences had an impact on Armenian thinking and identity in different ways: the liberal constitutionalism of the west, the romantic social movements of the east, the indigenous land-based patriotism of Ottoman Armenia. In all three cases, collective identity was recast in terms of nationality rather than an ethno-religious community.12

Both of these works have served as starting points for those aspects of this book that pertain to the question of the Armenian nationalism and the Armenian identity. Abrahamian’s dense anthropological research provides the necessary contextual ground that is uniquely post-Soviet and that is imperative for understanding of the shape and form of political authority in postindependent Armenia, attitudes toward Russia as well as the role of violence, sacrifice, and genocide in the fluid Armenian historical narrative. These works vividly demonstrate that Armenia entered the post–Cold War world with a strong sense of national identity and preconceived notions about the neighbors rooted in history. The existence of Armenian independent statehood in the period preceding the Sovietization greatly contributed to the initial sense of familiarity with the experience of 1991 independence and the necessity to derive lessons from it. Such a past, along with the legacy of the genocide, the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict and an ethnically homogenous composition of the post-Soviet Armenia has demarcated a space that was highly symbolic and emotionally charged. Within such a space, smallness can turn into grandeur (big talk) and weakness transforms itself into strength. This relational quality of power is emphasized by Papadakis and Starr, who describe it as “emanating from relationships between states instead of a comparison of their relatively fixed resources.”13 Physical size as an objective criterion cannot suffice for defining smallness as Robert Keohane and Robert Rothstein argue.14 It is rather the perception of the state vis-à-vis the others, and the psychological dimension of the condition that makes a state small. To endow smallness with causal power would leave many questions unanswered. What seem to be missing from these traditional theories are understandings of the motivation/willingness of small states—why are small states so active

Introduction

7

and aggressive when their environments would, at least superficially, indicate that they be otherwise.15

This statement points to a significant “omission” in the field of traditional foreign policy analysis: the disregard for the social context of interest formation. If according to the realist school pursuit of power constitutes the “currency” of the international system, then small states would be considered, due to the lack of resources and hence power, as “mini-versions” of larger states.16 Shifting the focus from the attributive (material) to the relational quality of power would allow locating power in the process of interaction: “power comes out of this relation, not from the power holder alone.”17 This implies that small states can and do exert pressure on more powerful states. Much of the rhetoric of “greatness” is often expressed through the language of honor and national pride.18 This defiance on the part of small states demonstrates the failure of the propagators of instrumental rationality to capture the complexity of the social world, in which states live in. Most importantly, it urges the foreign policy researchers to “contextualize” foreign policy. As Walter Carlsnaes suggests, “One must perforce jettison the practice of viewing foreign policy in terms of separate and distinct actors possessing discrete, divisible, and “comparable” properties, whose behavior can be encapsulated inductively in terms of discontinuous events-behavior proceeding serially in temporal increments.”19 One of the avenues to escape the structure-versus-agency juxtaposition that often drives the analysis of smaller states’ foreign policy is by examining the role of identity understood here as a “social practice” or forms of “narratives.” This approach “draws attention to the role of the agent without making the subjectivist assumption that structural constraints are not equally significant in the reproduction.”20 Again, viewing identity as practice highlights its relational quality and the fact that it is mainly about the states’ self-representation to others; it “does not reside in essential and readily identifiable cultural traits but in relations, and the question of where and how the borders towards the other should be drawn therefore becomes critical.”21 Identities are constructed through narrativity rooted in relationality, which is the principal condition of social order: “While there are many ways of representing identities— symbols, gestures, and so forth—narrative is the most fundamental.”22 Within the study of foreign policy, this is what one could also call “a story framework,” following Sanjoy Banerjee’s terminology. National identity can be reconstructed as a story with a certain plot structure. It is less like a traditional one-track story and more like an interactive story

8

Armenia, the Regional Powers, and the West

whose plot has more than one branch or track, and the one taken depends on the action of the reader/player. The story is invoked to interpret situations and to produce decisions and motivate actions in response. The favored track of the story is one of the unidirectional historical and moral progression. The disfavored track is one of regression and degeneration.23

Consequentially, the language of the narrative becomes the crucial “performer” or force for the meaningfulness of identity. Language drives policy and takes a life of its own; it is not merely an instrument of communication signifying the real world but rather a defining practice. Much has been said about the role of language in the process of securitization, which according to Ole Weaver is a “speech act.” Attaching the label of security to a particular problem legitimizes the extraordinary measures used by the policy makers; thus, securitization is “an agent uttering security.”24 Constructivist approaches to security can be applied to the study of the interaction between the material and the ideational and the process of coconstitution of agency and structure. In terms of security, the notion of coconstitution has two implications: First, a definition of threat is framed in the discourse of security. As Peter Katzenstein argues in the Culture of National Security, a state’s history, culture, and identity determine the discourse of security, which will be reflected in security conceptions and policy.25 Second, fixed definitions of security ignore the fluidity of security, the extent to which security is constantly reconstituted through the changing interests and identities of actors. How patterns of enmity and amity that form the basis of securitization are actualized through a state’s foreign policy are best understood when looking at the regional level. This level is particularly important when analyzing a small state. As Efraim Karsh suggests, “[F]or the small states, subsystemic developments are an absolute.”26 Security is relational; “others” that constitute the “self ” are most often geographically adjacent. The complexity of the security dynamics and the necessity to include the regional level of analysis in the process of conceptualizing foreign policy can be addressed by using the analytical concept of regional security complex (RSC). Coined by Barry Buzan in 1983 in his People, States and Fear, it underwent modifications in the 1998 edition to broaden the scope of securitizing agents in response to the disciplinary trends. In Regions and Powers: The Structure of International Security they maintained that regardless of reformulation, the idea remains the same, that “substantial parts of securitization and desecuritization processes in the international system will manifest themselves in regional clusters.”27 Security complexes are constituted by a group of states, whose security dynamics are tightly linked. The crucial element of this framework is

Introduction

9

that it is not intended to demonstrate the regional states’ subjective understanding of the constitution of their region qua region. It is not premised on a consensus by the local states as what constitutes a given region and who may be included in it. Rather, the authors explain, RSC is coined as an analytical concept that reflects the fact that regions are entities distinct from the global and local level and that they are “socially constructed in the sense that they are contingent on the security practice of the actors.”28 Just as in the social world individual psychology might be most influential in explaining behavior in one case, family structures in another, and national security in yet another, so in the international world, domestic factors might dominate some security constellations, regional ones others, and global ones yet others. The regional level may or may not dominate, but it will nearly always be in play in some significant sense, and cannot be dropped out of the analysis.29

As a methodological consideration for this book, Buzan and Weaver’s own methodology for uncovering the concept of the RSC essentially captures the way, in which an analysis of Armenian foreign policy should proceed. Rather than attempting to fit this case study within a particular theoretical framework, the goal is, as was articulated above, a holistic approach that integrates history, anthropology, and geopolitics at various levels to form a narrative of Armenia’s foreign policy since inception as an independent state. Basic Parameters of Armenia’s Security Environment Historical Background

Armenians have the dubious distinction of being the victims of what is widely recognized as the first genocide in modern history. Armenia is located in a neighborhood long shaped by great power machinations, ethnic conflict, and political turmoil. It falls at the critical juncture between three major regional powers—Iran, Turkey, and Russia, each of whom played a part in shaping Armenia’s political destiny throughout its history. Iran, Turkey, and Russia each carry a strong imperial legacy that inevitably translates itself into assertive/possessive policies toward and certain expectations from a region that used to be part of their domain. Historical Armenia’s division between the Russian and the Ottoman Empire determined a particular kind of nationalism that was founded on the idea of liberation of Turkish Armenia from Muslim rule. The most

10 A r m e n i a , t h e R e g i o n a l P o w e r s , a n d t h e W e s t

significant impact of this geopolitical reality on the underlying principles of the Armenian nationalism expressed itself in the fact that from the second half of the nineteenth century until the Sovietization of Armenia in 1920, Armenia’s destiny was continuously seen as dependent on external support. Originally, given that the issue of political reforms and the protection of non-Muslim minorities by the Sublime Porte was included into the “Eastern Question,” an expectation that the “European (imperial) forces ought to—and therefore will—liberate Armenia(ns) from the Ottoman yoke had become an ingrained element in Armenian collective consciousness.”30 Dependence on Russia as a natural Orthodox ally was the most vivid example of this reliance on great powers. An anticipation of external support continued even after the Armenian massacres in the Ottoman Empire at the end of the nineteenth century and subsequently the genocide of 1915. A power vacuum in the Southern Caucasus caused by Russia’s abandonment of the Ottoman front in early 1918, and with the Ottoman decline, was temporarily filled by the independent Transcaucasian Federative Republic, comprised of Georgians, Armenians, and Azerbaijanis. This political federation fell apart after lasting slightly over one month because of the conflicting loyalties among the three ethnic groups. Each group was reaching for external powers for support: the Georgians wished to ally themselves with Germany, Azerbaijanis with the Ottoman Empire, and Armenians with the United Kingdom, France, and the United States. The leading Armenian party, Dashnaktsutyun (Armenian Revolutionary Federation [ARF]), formally announced Armenia’s independence on May 28, 1918. This new Armenian state situated on a truncated portion of Russian Armenia was a “mangled bit of land that, for a lack of a better term [was] called a republic.”31 Filled with refugees fleeing from the genocide, under the threat of mass starvation, and under the Damocles sword of Turkish military offensive, the republic was nevertheless able to survive until 1920. The Armenian leadership at the time was hopeful that its neutrality and lack of ties with the Russian Bolsheviks would allow for the possibility of Western support. It became clear soon thereafter, however, that the emotional proclamations of the Allied governments would not be supported with concrete military and economic assistance. The Armenian government consistently followed a Western orientation, not out of any particular trust in the Allied Powers but because of the realization that the cherished goal of freedom could be achieved only with external support. The West alone had espoused that cause, at least in words. Yet the Western orientation came with great risk and cost, as

Introduction

11

it limited Armenia’s options and intensified the antagonism of both the Turkish nationalists and the Russian Bolsheviks.32

Armenian territories became the bargaining chip between Ataturk’s Turkey and Lenin’s Russia, both driven by a similar objective of breaking away from their international isolation and consolidating their new regimes. Turkey was progressively expanding its military offensive and under the pretense of protecting Armenia, the Bolshevik army moved to occupy it. Pressured into signing an agreement with the Soviet government on December 2, 1920, Dashnak leaders effectively transferred their powers to the new state of Soviet Armenia. A few days later, the Treaty of Alexandrapol (December 5, 1920) formally ended hostilities between Armenian and Turkey. With formal peace established at its eastern borders, Turkey could now press the young Soviet government to give up territories conquered during the Russian offensive of Anatolia in 1916. The Soviet-Turkish Treaty signed in March 1921 drew new borders between the Bolshevik Armenia and Turkey, which left portions of Anatolia assigned to Armenia by the Treaty of Serves within Turkish territory. In 1923, the Treaty of Lausanne solidified these new borders by effectively putting to rest the Treat of Serves and the aspirations of the Armenian nationalism. Armenian question ceased to exist as a subject of international law and, with it, vanished from the international radar.33 Internally, the Bolshevik government was reshuffling its alliances with different ethnic groups in the quest to divide and conquer. In July of 1921, in order to appease both the Turkish government and Azerbaijan’s Soviet leadership, the Caucasian Bureau of the Russian Communist Party—following Stalin’s directives—reversed its original decision of including the Armenian-populated enclaves of the Nagorno-Karabakh and Nakhichevan regions into Armenia and attached them to Azerbaijan. Thus, the infamous Nagorono-Karabakh Autonomous Oblast became yet another time bomb created by the Soviet nationalities policies. Throughout the following sixty-six years, the Armenian population of the oblast never got accustomed to the Azerbaijani rule. This was the case not only because of the various forms of discrimination but also because the Armenian population considered themselves to be distinct from and culturally superior to the Azerbaijanis. Woven together, the loss NagornoKarabakh and the territories of the Turkish Armenia fueled the dissident nationalism in Armenia in 1960s and 1970s. So it is not surprising that when in 1987 Gorbachev began a process of liberalization, the fate of the oblast was articulated as one of the most significant grievances of the Armenian population both in Stepanakert and Yerevan.

12 A r m e n i a , t h e R e g i o n a l P o w e r s , a n d t h e W e s t

The rebirth of the “Armenian question” in its “Karabakh” form was in essence a peaceful movement. However, it could not coexist with the inherent contradiction of Gorbachev’s reforms that “opened up” the system without providing space and means for articulating national aspirations. Anti-Armenian pogroms reverberating throughout Azerbaijani cities in February of 1988 were one of the expressions of dormant intolerance and ethnic tensions hidden behind the façade of orderliness and transparency. This, combined with Moscow’s anti-Armenian propaganda, fueled frustration, but also reorganized and remobilized the movement through creating a political organization known as the “Karabakh Committee” led by a young orientalist Levon Ter-Petrosyan. On July 12, 1988, in the session of the NKAO (the Nagorno-Karabakh Autonomous Oblast) Soviet declared its decision to secede from Azerbaijan and to join Armenia. A year and a half later, on December 1, 1989, the Armenian Supreme Soviet proclaimed Nagorno-Karabakh’s de jure reunification with Armenia, a legal point which makes it difficult for Armenia to insist that it has no territorial claims over Azerbaijan. However, this legal ruling uneasily coexists with NagornoKarabakh’s later de facto declaration of independence on December 10, 1991. This declaration became the basis of Levon Ter-Petrosyan position over the Nagorno-Karabakh issue. Elected as Armenia’s president in the fall of 1990 and in fear of international isolation, he continuously insisted that the issue was between Nagorno-Karabakh and Azerbaijan and not between Azerbaijan and Armenia. This position was complicated by the massive participation of irregular units, so-called fedayins, from Armenia proper and the Diaspora alongside the regular Nagorno-Karabakh army during military actions.34 The fighting in Nagorno-Karabakh, officially ending in 1994 through a Russia-brokered ceasefire, resulted in the Armenian capture of the entire oblast and surrounding six regions inside Azerbaijani territory, including the crucially important Lachin corridor, constituting the only land link between Armenia and Nagorno-Karabakh. Since 1994, the status quo remains unaltered despite series of negotiations and initiatives aimed at a permanent settlement. The main body responsible for the negotiation process is the Minsk Group of the OSCE (Organization on Security and Cooperation in Europe) represented by Russia, France, and the United States. Historical Memory, Identity, and Armenian Strategic Thinking

The idea shared by many Western and Soviet historians alike of a single purpose in Armenian history, whatever it might be in various accounts— survival, freedom, keeping the faith, independence—is closely tied to another unexamined assumption, that there has been through all time

Introduction

13

an Armenian “spirit”, an immutable essence that has always characterized the Armenians. The very constancy that makes up the Armenian nature in such accounts is a reading back of the present national existence or consciousness into the whole past.35

Armenia’s security perceptions cannot be analyzed without the intersubjective understanding of the Armenian nationalism, its causes and aspirations. Armenian nationalism is an eclectic phenomenon, combining both primordialism and modernism. It stresses the ancientness of the Armenian ethnicity as well as the establishment of the Armenian state as its ultimate goal. It represents the “root-oriented” model that describes a nation constantly moving forward to the past reenacting essentially the same story.36 At the heart of nationalism is a never-ending process of nation-building and maintaining of boundaries based on the maintenance of national idea and demarcation of the other: “central to nationalisms everywhere is the metaphor of nation-as-journey, as something that is ever in-the-making, but never quite reached.”37 As William Bloom suggests, “[T]here is that other political reality—that, in the face of continuously changing political and socio-economic realities (which is the nature of the contemporary life), nation-building is an on-going necessity.”38 Therefore, the boundary construction of the political discourse and bracketing of what is an appropriate reading of the past is a prerogative of the state discourse, particularly expressed through its foreign and security policy. The key to creating a narrative successful at legitimization and mobilization is the rearrangement of time into a continuous progressive line. For instance, the contemporary celebration of the independence day of the First Republic of Armenia on May 28 accomplishes the mental integration of 1918 and 1991 into an uninterrupted experience of independence through the collective “forgetting” of the Soviet time. The adoption of the national anthem of the First Republic in 1991 reflects the same trend. An Armenian historian, who contends that history is a strategic resource, assigns strategic thinking a leading role in the Armenian position on Nagorno-Karabakh by stripping history of its “pastness.” Armenia’s most significant foe, present-day Turkey is perceived as identical to the Turkey of the past: When we compare the preset situation with the historical record in the region, the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict emerges as an organic extension of Armenian-Turkish conflict of the 1894–1923 period rather than an isolated historical phenomenon. Among the striking similarities between these periods are the same Turkish geostrategic objectives and state policies of establishing and controlling directly and fully land

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communication among the Turkophone peoples from the Bosphorus through Baku to Central Asia.39

This statement reveals what E. Zerubavel describes as “homogenization” of history. Armenians relive history in the present day, hence the permanence of Armenia’s surroundings is essential: Historical analogies can, of course, be consciously used to influence outcomes. This is the usual task of propaganda. But historical analogies do more. They suggest patterns of understanding and consequently conduct which can elude the conscious control of the decision-maker … What can be said is that the capacity to have a particular event inscribed within a script of a historical analogy is a forceful device for legitimating that action which is thought to be the lesson of this historical event.40

On the other hand, the stereotype of a perpetual victim has been transformed to inform not only the individual but also collective identities. L. Abrahamian reflects that on the outset of the Nagorno-Karabakh movement, both Armenians and Azerbaijanis had to transform “their national stereotypes, both external and internal.”41 Armenian “revisionism” over the issue of Nagorno-Karabakh is an expression of such a transformation. Creating watersheds or dividing lines between various historical periods helps to articulate distinct identities, transform continuity into discontinuity to internalize change. As any story, collective memory has its punctuation or “periodization”: Such rites of separation are specifically designed to dramatize the symbolic transformations of identity involved in establishing new beginnings, especially implying that it is indeed quite possible to turn over a new leaf and be somehow reborn.42

This parallel existence of mental “periodization” and “homogenization” of history illuminates the dynamic nature of identity and the methodological usefulness of approaching identity as a narrative, mainly in order to understand identity transformation. Whether attempting to break away from the historical burden or to draw parallels with earlier periods, Armenian foreign policy thinking is “handcuffed to history,” continuously engaging with the past to articulate the new national roadmap. A newspaper columnist finely captures this collective sense of continuous reliving of history as nothing beyond ordinary: One of the characteristic features of the Armenian history (perhaps not only Armenian), most vividly expressed in the last fifteen years is that

Introduction

15

it does not have a past—not a single process and not a single event of national scale receives completion, and today we feel the impact—direct or indirect—from seemingly far removed events whether it is the adoption of the Christianity in the fourth century or the loss of the independent statehood in the fifth.43

It may be argued that the Armenian case is rooted in a more profound condition, to which J. Galtung refers as a “syndrome.” Speaking of ex-Yugoslavia and South Asia, he suggests that the construction of the “Self ” and the “Other” in these cases is “more compelling,” rooted “in such higher authorities as God and History, as told and experienced by people, not by professional theologians and historians.”44 The building blocks of the “syndrome” are: collective self; collective other; a history (of the future—time, myths); a geography (of the future—space, land); a transcendental principle of Good (God); a transcendental principle of Evil (Satan). These are primordial archetypes, “relating to basic categories of thought and action.”45 While not so evident in the official historiography, and largely dormant, these archetypes are subconsciously present in the public reading of the past, in the popular debates resurfacing more prominently, particularly at the times of crisis, transition, and reevaluation. They supply the rhetoric, the language, the psychological maps, and the time frames within which the nation operates. As in the Armenian case, the syndrome very often involves a trauma, which is defines the category and the characteristics of the “collective other,” and shapes the group’s relation toward its immediate neighbors. This is articulated through a highly militaristic discourse surrounding the Nagorno-Karabakh issue and is embedded in Armenia’s geostrategic thinking. Nagorno-Karabakh is not a mere symbol of an independent and rebellious Armenian spirit but is also a part and parcel of the Armenian defense establishments’ geostrategic calculations. Nagorno-Karabakh serves as a buffer protecting Armenia’s extremely vulnerable southern region of Siuinik. Armen Aivazian articulates the Armenian vision of its strategic predicament in the following passage: The borders of Soviet Armenia, drawn in 1920–23, precluded any possibility of Armenia to be a geopolitically viable state in the event of any future repetition of the collapse of the Russian Empire. Siuinik represents a case of extreme strategic vulnerability. This region is totally lacking in any strategic depth. Its territory extends for some 50 km between Nakhichevan and Azerbaijan, in the two narrowest parts of Meghri and Jermuk, it shrinks to only about 40 km. The threat to Siuinik becomes clear when we consider the ferocity of combined Azerbaijani-Turkish attempts to conquer Siunik

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by force in 1918–21 with the aim of providing a direct territorial link from Turkey to Azerbaijan and from there to Turkophone Central Asia.46

Nagorno-Karabakh signifies the first precedent in modern Armenian history when, instead of relying on external support, Armenians were able to single-handedly resolve their geopolitical predicament, at least for the time being. This fundamentally explains the role of Nagorno-Karabakh in the Armenian postindependence political thinking and the existential meaning it carries for the Armenian defense establishment. This is an issue that is more than the sum of its two parts—independence for Karabakh and security for Armenia. Chapter Outline This book consists of four chapters, each dealing with a set of relationships. Each chapter lays out the historical background and then moves into the chronology and analysis of the main events affecting the relationship since 1991. Chapter 1 addresses Armenian-Russian relations since independence. Armenia’s strategic alliance with Russia is generally presented to be as the essential condition of Armenia’s security. It is characterized by the Armenian elite and majority of public as “natural” and “organic.” This chapter seeks to understand what it means for Armenia to be a “pro-Russian” or “Russophile” state as it has been referred to by Western observers, and what it entails. It has even been called a “stepchild” or the “wild card” of the Southern Caucasus region because of its close relations with Russia.47 This is an oversimplified conclusion. There has always been a history of mistrust in Armenian expectations of Russia after 1921 because of the historical circumstances. This chapter discovers three parallel strands within the Armenian perception of Russia: extreme skepticism resurfaced, particularly in the last few years, because of Russia’s “imperial”-style policies in the Southern Caucasus; acknowledgment of the necessity to remain tied to Russia because of Armenia’s security needs; and acceptance of Russia as a “natural” ally because of historico-cultural and religious links. All of these three positions are used by the Armenian leadership to describe and assess the relationship depending on the circumstances and political demands of the day. While from the defense perspective, the elite continues to insist that this alliance is the only available security guarantee for Armenia, after 1998 a new doctrine emerges: labeled as a policy of complementarity, it is aimed at diversifying Armenia’s political choices. This policy implies developing mutually positive relations with all partners, such as Iran, the United States, and the European Union. The chapter pays particular attention to

Introduction

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Russia’s policies toward the Nagorno-Karabakh issue and in the Caspian region in the context of the evolution of Russian foreign policy since the end of the Soviet Union. Armenia’s military dependence on Russia is impossible to understand without considering the issue of Armenian-Turkish relations. Chapter 2 analyzes the existing diplomatic deadlock between Turkey and Armenia. Aside from the Nagorno-Karabakh issue, this is the most sensitive, normative, and complex issue on the Armenia’s foreign policy agenda: how does one go about building a relationship with a country that is the political successor of a regime responsible for the genocide and that consistently denies its responsibility for the past? How should a possibility of such a relationship be conceptualized considering that Turkey’s open support of Azerbaijan in Nagorno-Karabakh conflict and subsequent Turkish embargo of the Armenian border accentuated historical grievances and brought to the forefront of the relations the issue of the 1915 genocide? The chapter analyzes numerous failed attempts by the first Armenian president to establish a dialogue at the cost of sidelining the genocide issue and subsequent president, Robert Kocharyan’s careful maneuvering between diaspora’s growing pressure for the genocide recognition, Turkish preconditions and the geopolitical and economic necessity to have an open border with Turkey. One of the key methods of grasping the dilemma facing the Armenian leadership lies in addressing their understanding of what constitutes the concept of “normalcy.” For Levon Ter-Petrosyan, it meant transcending historical dependencies and stereotypes, or what he called “false ideology.” Armenia’s historical dependence on Russia could only be avoided through reconciliation with Turkey, whose threat, he argued, was over exaggerated. For Robert Kocharyan, the former president of Nagorno-Karabakh Republic, “normalcy” for Armenia is its ability to withstand international pressure and safeguard its physical survival through preserving Nagorno-Karabakh’s independence. The Turkish continuous policy of linking its relations with Armenia with Yerevan’s compromise on the Nagorno-Karabakh issue sabotages any possibility of this relationship to improve in the nearest future. This chapter gives much space to the discussion of Turkish geostrategic perceptions of the Southern Caucasus and its domestic debates around Armenia. Chapter 3 addresses Armenian-Iranian relations. As I argue, this is one of the areas of Armenia’s foreign policy, upon which the entire spectrum of the political forces agrees. Iran is an important geopolitical partner, which provides a channel for escaping Armenia’s regional isolation. Despite the recurring American pressure, the Armenian leadership has been firm on its insistence on the necessity to maintain good neighborly relations with the Islamic Republic. Armenia’s foreign policy toward

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Iran should be considered bilaterally and also within the larger picture of Armenia’s relations with the Middle East, most importantly with Syria and Lebanon. It is, as I argue, one of the foundations of the policy of complementarity and an important semantic tool used to illustrate Armenia’s ability to build positive relations with two antagonists simultaneously, Iran and the United States. The Iranian policies toward Armenia are as always careful and pragmatic. There is much to consider, including its tense relations with Azerbaijan, increasing U.S. presence in the Southern Caucasus, and Russian-Iranian relations in the context of the Caspian Sea. Although Iran has maintained a neutral position throughout the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, as some sources argue, Iran has been supportive of the idea of preserving the status quo on the ground and even aiding the independence of Nagorno-Karabakh to prevent a twoway settlement between Armenia and Azerbaijan that would immediately invite the United States into the region. Iran shares Russian position to an extent that it does not allow for the hostilities to resume at the same time postponing the final settlement of the conflict indefinitely. Chapter 4 deals with Armenia’s relations with a relatively new geopolitical partner labeled here as “the West.” The reason for such generic term is Armenian leadership’s perception of the West as a monolith partner that is composed of two main players, the United States and the European structures. Accordingly, the chapter is divided into two sections dealing with Armenia-U.S. and Armenia-Europe relations (Europe being represented by the European Union and the Council of Europe). This vector of foreign policy has been presented by the foreign policy elite as part and parcel of policy of complementarity, aimed at transcending East-West antagonism and achieving “diversification” of Armenia’s relations with the world. The rise of this doctrine can be traced in this particular chapter because it coincides with the growing Western understanding of the Southern Caucasus not simply as an extension of Russia’s sphere of influence but as a separately standing region with its own security dynamics and with a potentiality of important geopolitical dividends. This realization has resulted in more assertive policies toward Armenia by the United States and Euro-Atlantic structures. Armenia is constantly challenged to adjust its alliance with Russia to the changing global environment. Yet, the key to the existing balance in the region lies not in the logic of Russian-American relations, extensively discussed in this chapter but in the internal dynamics of the region, particularly that of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. A very interesting aspect of this dimension of Yerevan’s foreign policy is the illustration of the process of the elite learning. While the American pressure whether in the area of Armenian-Iranian

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relations or the resolution processes of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict occasionally causes anxiety among the Armenian elite, they have nevertheless remained defiant. The reasons for this are two-fold: one, the “West” is not ready to provide to Armenia with the security guarantees, hence the Armenian elite understands that the pressure is only of a limited nature; two, the Nagorno-Karabakh is a source of strength as much as it is a cause of vulnerability because it gives the Armenian elite a sense of certainty about the boundaries that it cannot transgress. An important role in this confidence is the existence of large Armenian diaspora in the United States and Europe that from the dawn of independence gave Armenia a comparative advantage over its adversaries in the region, both in terms of diplomatic clout and actual policy results.

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Chapter 1

Russia: “The Indispensable Ally?” I am speaking of mistakes that may have catastrophic, and if you will, tragic consequences … I am speaking of a great misfortune, happening to us—the wild anti-Russian campaign started by certain circles. The fact in itself is outrageous, and moreover, politically fruitless since there is nothing behind it but a savage desire to instill feelings that are uncharacteristic of Armenians, that are unnatural, and never experienced before—the feeling of animosity and antipathy towards Russians.1 Our ties with Russia are something innate and natural for all Armenians, particularly those residing on the territory of the republic and the CIS. Its components are common cultural-spiritual values and traditional perception of Russia as the most significant regional ally and protector of Armenia’s security.2 Armenian defense doctrine would have to satisfy two essential requirements: 1) the capacity of Armenia to independently confront and win wars with Azerbaijan, and 2) a defense with at least one external player which would neutralize the Turkish threat. In the foreseeable future, only Russia is interested and willing to assume such a role.3

Introduction The most striking aspect of the Armenian foreign policy toward Russia after the end of the Soviet Union has been the disparity between the official language used to characterize it and the substantive normative changes that have occurred since independence. This chapter argues that by placing it in the realm of “natural,” the Armenian ruling elite disguises the necessity to address Yerevan’s current strategic dependence on Russia despite the erosion of its normative foundations and legitimacy. The discursive nature of Armenian-Russian relations in the context of the Armenian post-Soviet political identity is most evident

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in its embeddedness in hierarchical relations of power institutionalized by the Soviet system and in a sense that the “discourses ‘naturalize’ representations of self and other. They normalize identities.”4 One of the major hidden elements in this language of “normalcy” is the role of the Armenian ruling elite, which utilizes its relationship with Russia to assure its political longevity. This is conducted in various ways and with varying success. As the story of Levon Ter-Petrosyan’s presidency demonstrates, Russia’s withdrawal of political support may have been an important factor in his eventual fall, while Robert Kocharyan has used this relationship to consolidate his positions and to ensure the status quo in the Nagorno-Karabakh stalemate. This merger between elite’s strategic and political interests against the background of Russia’s imperial-like policies toward smaller states in the Southern Caucasus has accelerated the process of the erosion of Russia’s legitimacy as an indispensable ally among the Armenian political forces and the public. Yet, the Armenian-Russian strategic alliance that constitutes the crux of this relationship continues to define and dominate Armenia’s foreign policy in the context of what its leadership perceives as a clear lack of other alternatives. The discursive context, against which these two considerations interplay, is very reflective of the dynamics of the Armenian political identity since the independence that has been centered upon the question whether Armenians have been able to finally break away from history or they continuously reenact their past in the present by repeating “old political mistakes.” History And Perceptions Although Russia began to play a principal role in Armenia’s destiny fairly recently, compared to Iran and Turkey, from the early nineteenth century onward, its impact on the Armenian political thinking is unparalleled. Relations with Russia have occupied a central place in the writings of the nineteenth century Armenian public intellectuals who coined national self-consciousness such as Mikael Nalbandian, Hovhannes Tumanyan, and Khachatur Abovyan. The genocide, the resulting influx of the Armenians to the Russian Transcaucasus and subsequently the establishment of the Bolshevik rule, has reaffirmed the role of Russia as a guarantor of physical survival of the nation. Reliance on Russia occupied a central place in the Armenian national liberation struggle in the late nineteenth to early twentieth century, which came to be known as “the Armenian question.” The cornerstone of the struggle was the conception of dependence on the outside powers, particularly Russia for achieving the liberation of the Western Armenian

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provinces from the Ottoman yoke. Unlike the Ottoman Armenians, Armenians in the Transcaucasus were more secure, socially more mobile, more urbanized, and more exposed to the outside world.5 Their contact with the Western culture occurred through the Russian intellectual circles and was instrumental in the emergence of modern Armenian national idea. Nineteenth-century Tiflis and Baku became the centers of Armenian intellectual renaissance and a birthplace of major Armenian political parties such as Dashnaktsutyun and Hnchak. Benevolence toward Russia to a large degree was premised upon shared Christian heritage and juxtaposition of the images of barbaric Asiatic Turk and enlightened Europeanized Russian. In his 1858 novel, Wounds of Armenia, the founder of modern Eastern Armenian literature Khachatur Abovyan wrote, “Blessed is the day when Russians stepped onto Armenian land.”6 These attitudes were reinforced by Russian victory in the TurkishRussian war of 1877–1878 and the inclusion of Kars and Ardagan into the Russian Empire. Traditionally, although eastern Armenian political parties were more radical than western ones, their radicalism extended only to embrace the cause of the liberation of the Turkish Armenia. Armenian contacts with the Russian populism paradoxically strengthened their social consciousness and political awareness only as it pertained to the conditions of their brethren in the Ottoman Empire. At the onset of World War I, it was widely held that the fate of the Armenians in the eastern provinces could only be tied to the Allied, specifically Russian, victory. With the worst massacres of 1915 behind them, Armenians greeted the 1916 Russian advance into Anatolia and the capture of Erzerum, Trabizond, Erzinjan, and the Lake Van region with great exhilaration and hope. In an article published in December 1917, Armenian intellectual A. Chopanian argued that Russia was Armenians’ “primary protector.” Its victory in the war would reward Armenia with self-rule.7 What Armenians did not expect was Lenin’s premature Russian withdrawal from war and the abandonment of the eastern front. The ensuing shortterm withdrawal of Russia from the Transcaucasus (1918–1921) meant that Armenians would face the Turkish march on Transcaucasus alone.8 The forced Sovietization of Armenia, achieved as a result of the concert between the Turkish nationalists and the Bolsheviks, finalized Armenia’s new and much smaller boundaries. It is this critical juncture of history that gave rise to two distinct narratives and political perceptions of Russia. On the one hand, the physical preservation of a portion of its historical lands in the small corner of Transcaucasus was imperative for the development of the nation given its prior experiences at the beginning of the century. As one of the leaders of the Dashnak government, Hovhannes Kajaznuni wrote later: “From the first day of our statehood we well understood that

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such a small, poor, deprived, and isolated country as Armenia cannot become truly independent and autonomous … We should be grateful to Bolsheviks. By deposing us, they—if not saved—have put on a reliable path whatever they have inherited.”9 In 1921, after the Sovietization of Armenia, independent Armenia’s former ambassador to the United States, Armen Garo still maintained: Without Russia’s active assistance, we will not have the opportunity to half-way realize our national ideal: to have our own homeland, independent or even semi-independent, where our people will have the chance to live and work, away from the Turkish sword. From this perspective our “red brothers” in Yerevan are standing on more realistic ground.10

This pro-Russian stance remained to be the cornerstone of the Armenian nationalist idea in the diaspora throughout the Soviet period. After World War II, the Dashnaks were exhilarated by Stalin’s plans to create a cordon sanitaire around the southern border, which included the revision of the Turkish-Soviet treaty in the area of Kars and Ardahan.11 This episode as well as the entire history of the Armenian Soviet Socialist Republic demonstrates that the Armenian nationalism continued to center itself on the opposition to the Turks and benevolence toward the Russians. As R. G. Suny notes, “[T]he Armenian nationalism was less threatening to the Soviet state, especially since it is the Soviet army that stood between Armenia and the ever-present potential threat from Turkey.”12 This perceived threat and the gratitude for the nation’s ultimate security resulted in the loyalty to the Soviet state both on the level of official and dissident nationalism. The discriminatory practices of the Azerbaijanis in Nagorno-Karabakh were blamed on the Azerbaijani nationalist policies rather than the larger Soviet nationalities policy. In fact, the relative autonomy in the “practice” of ethnicity, be it in education or popular culture, allowed by Moscow, served as a major legitimizing factor for the local communists. Moscow’s ethnic policies designed to secure popular consent and eventual arrival of the new “Soviet” identity gave Armenians as well as other titular nationalities an opportunity for material and symbolic reproduction of ethnicity. Historiography became the backbone of this process and the initial battles between different ethnic groups over the questions of origins, territory, and legitimacy were waged in the republican Academies of Sciences. Hence, the first stage of the impending conflict between Armenians and Azerbaijanis over Nagorno-Karabakh was “the war of memories.”13 In the context of perestroika, this symbolic “war,” waged on the pages of the textbooks and academic journals, became increasingly politicized and heated.

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Among the Armenians, the politicization of the discourse set within the larger context of weakening legitimacy of the Soviet propaganda triggered the “myth of unjust treatment” by Russia.14 A samizdat pamphlet published in Yerevan in 1991 resurrects the voice of a prominent Dashnak Ruben Darbinian, who wrote in April 1920, months before Armenia’s Sovietization: “Russia is our friend as long as we are its slaves; but it became our enemy, perhaps our most dangerous enemy, when we sought freedom and self-rule.15 This transformation of the narrative, from portraying Russia as the main guarantor of Armenia’s security to its most serious obstacle, was internalized through that “myth of unjust treatment.” This transformation occurred gradually and painfully in the later stages of the Nagorno-Karabakh movement, and became finalized, as I argue during Robert Kocharyan’s presidency. The Battle of the Narratives Eastern Armenia’s administrative affiliation with the Russian empire, an earlier exposure to the Russian language and culture (compared to other titular nationalities in the Soviet Union) as well as the existence of a highly educated Russanized intelligentsia guaranteed that the Armenian integration into the Soviet system would be more successful than in other republics. More significantly for such process, Armenia’s pre-Soviet tumultuous history and the narrative of the Bolshevik’s timely intervention was engraved in the public awareness and officialdom. “Forgetting” that Armenian interests were “sacrificial lambs” offered to foster TurkishSoviet relations in 1920s, the Armenians valued the advantages of peaceful development under the Soviet security umbrella. In general, although the “Russophiles” recognized the “big brother’s” traditional imperial ambitions, coexistence with Russia was deemed as the only viable alternative. For some members of the Soviet Armenian intelligentsia, the relationship carried almost a metaphysical, highly idealized meaning as an organic union of two Christian nations amid the hostile Turkic world. Some members of the early Karabakh movement, such as Zori Balayan invariably stressed the religious and cultural affinity of two peoples. In an open letter to B. Yeltsin he wrote: “Now when Russia is making a choice towards her salvation, Christian Karabakh … will continue its struggle for its survival as a part of the historic Armenia, included into Russia, and as its reliable outpost. Karabakh issue as a separate issue no longer exists. It has been long resolved and sealed with the blood of Russians and Armenians.”16 This traditional Armenian loyalty partly explains why the leaders of the Nagorno-Karabakh movement at its initial changes sought a resolution within the Soviet legal framework. Despite the growing anger

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against Moscow, Armenians preferred to stay within the peaceful forms of protest, expressed in hunger strikes and public rallies. Throughout 1989–1990, movement’s leaders headed by Levon Ter-Petrosyan insisted on constitutional solution. Later, in his capacity as the head of the Parliament of the Armenian SSR, he emphasized the necessity of peaceful succession from the USSR. This peaceful resistance assured the support of the Russian democrats especially by academician Andrei Sakhrov, for it “was thought to be the precedent for a peaceful legitimate fight against the Soviet regime.”17 Such prominent Russian liberals as Timur Gaidar, Valentin Oskotski, Andrey Nuykins, and Galina Nuykins formed the Committee of Russian Intelligentsia for Karabakh (KRIK). Members of the Soviet Armenian intellectual establishment such as Zori Balayan and Silva Kaputikyan along with young Russian reformist circles engaged in rhetorical erasing of the Soviet experience from what they held was otherwise untarnished history of the Armenian-Russian relations. KRIK members served as intermediaries between Stepanakert and Moscow, conducting frequent trips to the NKAO and communicating the Armenian grievances to the central authorities. During one of such trips, Andrey Nuykin addressed a peaceful demonstration in Karabakh’s capital, Stepanakert. His speech was subsequently published in Izvestiya newspaper: The 1813 treaty on voluntary entrance of Karabakh into the Russian state was signed not for a limited duration of time, but for “eternity.” It was “ratified” by jointly shed blood. The decisions forced upon the Russian people and the people of Karabakh in 1921 by the terrorist government and criminal party gang can be considered no more legal than the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact. The Azerbaijani government itself, basing its right to independence on the return to 1918–1920 status, in practice recognizes those decisions as annulled. Thus, Nagorno-Karabakh and Russia return to their unbroken ties based on 1813 Treaty. However, Russia too has sinned against her old friends and allies. Its army and military technology was used for a ruthless deportation of Armenian villages, for terrorizing peaceful residents of Karabakh. And the Russian people, mislead by the deceitful propaganda unfortunately remained as outside observer. This guilt has to be repaired, and the freedom of the long-suffering region has to be secured through entire Russian diplomatic, economic, intellectual, and—in case of new scaled attempts of genocide—military might, multiplied by her international reputation and moral purity of stated goals.18

Symptomatic of his times, the speaker draws a separation between the decisions of the Bolshevik government and the traditional orientation of the Russian people. The important underlying message is the

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organic, inevitable nature of Russian-Armenian ties, which confirms the historically sanctioned role of Russia in the region and more specifically, in the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. The narrative of Russia’s traditional role as a defender was seriously challenged in February 1988, when Soviet law enforcement forces failed to protect the Armenians in Azerbaijani cities from the pogroms organized by the Azerbaijani mob.19 This was perceived as yet another instance when Armenians were “sacrificed for the larger Turkic interests of the Soviet state.”20 Anti-Armenian pogroms in Baku in January 1990 radicalized the members of the movement. In one of his articles published in the Armenian press, Levon Ter-Petrosyan wrote that this incident became a direct proof that reliance on Russia for protection is delusional and self-destructive.21 The transformation of the discourse initiated a “battle” of narratives of Armenian-Russian relations grounded in the general attempt to reevaluate these relations in historical perspective.22 These debates were reflective of the process of the “actualization of history” characteristic of the Socialist and postsocialist societies.23 Like in many societies with a similar legacy, in Armenia it took place in two distinct forms: “annihilation of the past” and “reversibility of events.” In both scenarios, real events were viewed through the prism of history, and the past was “more or less intentionally mobilized in the present.”24 The “annihilation of the past” was immediately expressed through anti-Russian language policy, a sharp increase in the number of Armenian-language schools and general lack of tolerance for Russianized Armenian intelligentsia, which L. Abrahamian calls a “post-factum policy of revenge and reaction against the Soviet state’s long-term policies of trying to assimilate non-Russian societies into the Soviet order through the local promotion of the Russian language in the former national republics.”25 Institutionalization of Russian as a lingua franca in the Soviet Armenia was evident in the association of Russian language with enhanced social prestige. In this context, rejection of Russian signaled a deeper social and paradigmatic transformation. On the level of historiography, this became evident through series of samizdat publications that have appeared in late 80s and early 90s targeted what they labeled as “defeatist” ideology prevalent in the traditional Armenian political thinking. A point of departure for this rhetoric became the historical reference to the Soviet-Turkish Treaty, which depicted a cynical, exploitative Russia which had betrayed Armenia’s interests to Turkey whenever expedient, and deliberately exacerbated Armenian fears of Turkey to discourage longings for independence.26

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This narrative glorified the first Armenian republic as the true Armenian state and as a victim of the Soviet imperial designs, and rejected the commonly accepted thesis that Armenia’s security was in fact preserved as a result of the Sovietization. The members of the Nagorno-Karabakh movement such as Raphael Ishkhanyan, Ktrich Sardaryan, and Vazgen Manukyan criticized the past mistakes of the Armenian political figures and public intellectuals who entertained “naive” hopes about the Russian protection. Rafael Ishkhanian castigated the historically adopted strategy of relying on great powers to secure the destiny of the Armenian nation in his 1989 article “The Law of Excluding the Third Force.” Armenia’s traditional proRussian orientation received its share of condemnation. Who told you that Russia is the savior of the Armenian people? Russia itself has never said that. This, my fellow citizens, is your invention. It is you who have placed your hopes on those powers and are now disillusioned … The Russians are refusing to accept your definition of their interests, but you insist on teaching them. It also does not make sense to be enemies with Russia. Not to rely on Russia, not to make plans based on its power does not at all mean to be enemies with Russia. Let us be friends, but let us not rely on them, be fully devoted to them, believe so much that they are our saviors. Let us re-Armenianize Armenia, let us be our own nation.27

Following the path of “reversibility of events,” the official historians of the Armenian Academy of Sciences, on the other hand, scorned this revisionism of the Armenian history as dilettantism and demagoguery. The renowned Armenian historian M. Nersisyan succinctly summarizes the general consensus among the Armenian historians as follows: “[D]espite the despotic nature of the Russian state and the imperial policies of the czars, the Russian orientation of Armenians is a historically justified necessity, for it sprang from the national interests of the Armenian people.”28 He argued that targeting historiography was not only unscientific but a-national, as it were the historians who nurtured the national consciousness and prepared the Armenian nation for the calamities of the critically important 1988 events: “Hence, there is no justification for the tendency of the Armenian National Movement to juxtapose intellectuals to the national movement.” While this signified a growing rift between what was considered “political” versus what was deemed “scientific,” both sides were engaging in the debate that erased the separation between the past and the present. While Levon Ter-Petrosyan castigated history as a “fake science,” the scholarly establishment stressed that history serves as an evolving actualization of the national mission. Its study should be

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based on the recognition of national needs and on the knowledge of “national ideology,” which is “a real concept (Haskatsoutyoun), and it is entirely known scientifically.”29 This explosive intellectual environment in Armenia in the years preceding and immediately following the independence reveals the thinning borderline between professional historians and the public. The discourse was fueled by the “wars of memories” ensued between Armenian and Azerbaijani historiographers around the history of Karabakh, in which seemingly such purely scientific disciplines as archeology were called to legitimize each group’s claim to the land. These became popular sciences moving far beyond the boundaries of intradisciplinary debates. Everyone becomes a historian, everyone voices his or her opinion about history, which “to a very great extent, … has become public, and professional historians are no longer in control of it.”30 The leaders’ view of history was rooted in its reevaluation as a “300-year-old mistake” and in its firm belief that Armenia’s true independence could be secured only if the Armenians could realistically assess their capabilities, which would translate into more self-reliance: “The steps of the Armenian people must be proportionate to the degree of our strength.”31 The transformation in the ideology of the Pan-Armenian National Movement went unnoticed among the Russian press and the elite, a transformation that was by far more drastic than imagined. The removal of the Turkish threat was deemed as the only tool necessary to radically change Armenia’s deeply embedded security perceptions and alliance patterns. In this new Armenian elite, connected not with Diaspora but with Armenia itself, educated, holding a guaranteed status, there was a gradual and invisible emergence of a new, more “realistic” psychology, deeply divergent from the psychology of Diaspora and the Dashnak elite of 1918–1920.32

When in 1991 it became known that the Interior Ministry security forces, the OMON (Otryad Militsii Osobogo Naznacheniya [Special purpose police unit]), were aiding Azerbaijanis in the capture of Armenian villages in Karabakh and in the massive deportation of the Armenian population as a part of the operation known as “Ring” (Koltso), the popular anger against Gorbachev’s policies inevitably extended to Russians as a whole. The widely held view is that the Russians staged the operation “Ring” as a means of retaliation in response to the aggressive anti-Russian rhetoric of Ter-Petrosyan’s followers and their refusal to participate in the March all-Union referendum on the future of the Soviet Union.33 Levon Ter-Petrosyan called the Russian military offensive an “undeclared war” against the Armenian republic.34 Independence came in this disillusionment

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in Moscow’s intentions, similarly to 1918, when the first republic emerged against the background of deep disappointment with the great powers. Yet, the world in which the third republic emerged was different from that of 1918. It dictated a new kind of logic, which at times drew the young Armenian leadership to dangerously disregarding the lessons of history. 1991–1998: The Deem Reality Throughout 1991–1992, Levon Ter-Petrosyan embarked on the policy formulation of Armenia’s relations with the outside world. The political system that emerged in Armenia in 1990–1991 as a result of prolonged domestic debates was based on a strong presidency, which gave TerPetrosyan enough freedom to carry out important foreign policy decisions. As a matter of fact, it was foreign policy that determined the political path that Armenia would take. The arguments about the need in strong leadership at the time of conflict, and in the conditions of joint Turkish and Azerbaijani economic blockade shifted the balance toward stronger executive powers. It is also worth to mention that Armenia’s peculiar political circumstances provide only a partial explanation to the emergence of the strong presidential system in Armenia. The strong legacy of etatism imprinted upon Armenian political mentality throughout the Soviet period resulted in a dilemma, which demanded that the “state should preside over its own dismantling.”35 On foreign policy front, the new elite believed that “Pan-Turkism was the bogeyman that the Armenian Communist Party and the Armenian Revolutionary Federation were using to maintain Armenia’s dependence on the Soviet Union, and after the latter’s collapse, on Russia.”36 Although they did not deny the inevitability of peaceful and close relations with Russia because of the multiple cultural and economic links, the vision of the new relationship was premised on the principles of self-determination and sovereignty and not because of Armenia’s dependence on Moscow. In 1991, Armenia and Russia signed the bilateral Treaty on Friendship, Cooperation, and Mutual Assistance. Pragmatism injected into fundamental issues also dictated that the relations with the new democratic Russia should remain cordial. Ter-Petrosyan’s pragmatic leadership played generally a very positive role in enhancing Armenia’s image internationally and in building good relationship with Yeltsin’s administration. It also became a geopolitical necessity because of the Turkish involvement in the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. The victory of strategic considerations in formulating Armenia’s foreign policy toward Russia draws a borderline between passionate and emotional “nationalist” stage and the era of pragmatic “postnationalist”

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politics in Armenia, a distinction that coincides with the transition from the period of initiation into the period of consolidation of the new regimes.37 Regardless of how much the Ter-Petrosyan administration wished to change the parameters of Armenia’s external environment, the war with Azerbaijan imposed its own logic. Among the preconditions put forth by Ankara for establishing diplomatic relations with Armenia was the renunciation of its “aggressive policy” toward Azerbaijan. Tied to this was the issue of Nakhichevan, the only link connecting Turkey not only with Azerbaijan but also “the only portion of a Muslim state of the FSU, with which Turkey is geographically contiguous.”38 Securing this link was at the center of Turkish military exercises in May of 1992 when massive divisions of Turkish army were stationed along the Turkish-Armenian border in response to the proximity of the military actions to the Nakhichevan region. This move solicited a harsh response from Russia that, its initial foreign policy limbo notwithstanding, was clear about what it considered to be the sphere of its immediate interest. The head of the CIS Joint Armed Forces Marshal Shaposhnikov articulated this vision when he warned Turkey that any intervention in the Armenian-Azerbaijan conflict could cause World War III.39 All throughout 1993, Turkish support of Azerbaijan in the conflict through the supply of weapons and military specialists, the imposition of the Turkish blockade over the transit of humanitarian and other aid to Armenia over its territory as well as the Turkish diplomatic efforts to renounce Armenian aggression internationally drew all three major regional powers—Russia, Turkey, and Iran—into a precarious crisis. The Nakhichevan crisis demonstrated to Moscow that there was a clear possibility of the military intervention in the conflict by an outside power. This threatened Russia’s dominant presence in the region and indicated that the reinforcement of its military influence was imperative. It also illustrated the fallacy of the assumptions, on which Levon Ter-Petrosyan’s policy regarding Turkish-Armenian relations was based. Turkish one-sided position in the conflict against her stated objectives to become a neutral party in the conflict resolution efforts intensified the sense of insecurity among Armenians, reinforced historical perceptions of Turkey as an “enemy,” and only “pushed Armenia farther into Russia’s arms.”40 Among the Armenian leadership, the Turkish menace exacerbated the sense of overwhelming insecurity, and stressed the necessity of forming a military partnership with Moscow. This scenario was anticipated even before the official demise of the Union when the Armenian leadership was anxious about the prospects of an impending military vacuum.41 In September 30, 1992, an agreement was reached with Russia according to which, Russian border guards would patrol the Armenian-Turkish border. Not all

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of the troops were Russian however. A large percentage of them would be recruited locally and be trained by the remaining Russian command. After 1992, the task of building a strong viable army became the number one objective facing the Armenian leadership. On May 15, 1992, in Tashkent during the signing of the collective security agreement for the CIS, both Armenia and Azerbaijan were promised vast arsenals of Soviet military equipment. Although on paper there was supposed to be parity between the two parties, in reality Azerbaijan—due to the bigger quantities of Russian military ammunition on its territory—acquired an upper hand. Baku purchased much of the weapons and equipment directly from the Russian divisions stationed there. In order to restore the military balance, Ter-Petrosyan personally requested Russian assistance from Yeltsin and he was granted his wish: It turned out that there were three times more weapons in Azerbaijan than in Armenia … and when we talked to the Russian side, we came to the conclusion—and I managed to get them to agree to this—that we should be compensated for this. And Yeltsin agreed to this and agreed that the balance should be preserved.42

Russian policy was characteristically mixed and directed at keeping parity between the two sides. This was dictated by two reasons: one, Russian geopolitical interests of maintaining clout with Armenia and Azerbaijan; two, military elites of Armenia, Azerbaijan, and Russia were bound by personal ties inherited from the Soviet times. The close relationship between the Russian and Armenian defense establishments was of critical importance in establishing the parameters of the relationship at early stages. In fact, it could be argued that Russia foreign policy became largely the prerogative of the Armenian military establishment and has remained such until the present day. Relations with Russia were conducted through the veterans of the Karabakh war who rose to prominence and occupied key defense and national security posts. The war created a situation where “the power ministries soon acquired a fundamental weight on foreign policy.”43 Among the most prominent personalities that emerged during those early years was Vazgen Sarkisyan, a strong charismatic military commander who enjoyed enormous influence among both the Karabakh and the Armenian military. Appointed as Armenia’s defense minister in 1992, with brief change of hats as the interior minister, he remained in that position until 1999. As other top leadership of the Armenian army, Sarkisyan had an excellent working relationship with the Russian defense minister Pavel Grachev. Until his assassination in 1999, Sarkisyan was considered to be a pro-Russian figure on the Armenian political landscape.

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Pavel Grachev had a very Soviet-like and straightforward understanding of Russia’s security interests in the region, which boiled down to increasing the number of Russian troops, an objective that was met by the Armenian security needs.44 Armenia was chosen as the first country Grachev visited after his appointment as the defense minister, following Turkey’s warning to step in into the conflict to protect Nakhichevan. At the same time, he never pushed for a complete estrangement from Azerbaijan either, by building good working relations with the Azerbaijani defense ministry. The issue of Russian weapon supplies to Armenia from 1992 through 1994 has been an object of speculations and much of the Armenian success in the NK conflict was attributed to the Russian assistance. As R. Hovhannisian suggests, “the Armenian military victory in Karabakh in 1992 and the Kelbajar offensive in 1993 could not have been conducted without arms and equipment from external sources.”45 The state of legal and illegal weapon purchases is reflective of the utter chaos and disarray that characterized the world of these post-Soviet nations. The influx of weapons after the collapse to both warring sides moved the conflict to a new level, characterized by an increased violence and destruction. The real scale of the arm supplies by Russia to Armenia was made public in 1997 in General Rockhlin’s report to the State Duma. According to the general, the estimated supplies amounted to one billion dollars. Although the biggest share of transactions happened in 1995 and 1996, there were massive transfers between August 1992 and June 1994 that were conducted from the Russian base in North Ossetia.46 However while Russian military assistance helped Armenia to overcome the gap, it still remains to be determined whether it was the most crucial factor in the Armenian military victories in 1993–1994.47 Aside from the military equipment, Russia supplied Armenia with critical fuel. Early in 1993, a series of meetings took place in Moscow between Ter-Petrosyan and Boris Yeltsin to negotiate oil and natural gas deliveries to the blockaded republic. Throughout 1992 and 1993, Russia provided large-scale credit payments to support Armenia’s dwindling national budget. This Russian military and economic assistance boosted Armenian self-confidence throughout those early years and imposed a basic security umbrella that had become absent immediately after the collapse. Despite the pressure from the NKR’s leadership and from his military to take radical steps on the battlefield, Ter-Petrosyan maintained a pragmatic and cautious approach so as not to antagonize Russia. This approach paid off; Levon Ter-Petrosyan was respected in Moscow and had a good working relationship with Boris Yeltsin. Russia’s policy toward the region and the Armenia-Azerbaijan conflict should be considered from the point of view of its status as a former

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superpower. Despite the initial disarray in the foreign policy decisionmaking in Moscow following the end of the Union, and the leading, almost autonomous role that the defense ministry played in conducting relations with local governments, the Russian elite maintained the Soviet mental map of Russian frontiers. As Likhoshestov et al. argue Russia, as one of the most spatial-oriented powers in the world, has overburdened itself with the goal of preserving its geopolitical legacy. Contrary to Makinder’s argument, Russia’s main motivation has not been to strive for continental leadership but rather for an effort to escape its spatial enclosure. Hence, its foreign policy can only be multidirectional due to its geopolitical position. In this paradigm, Russia’s southern orientation has been of utmost significance.48 While Armenia’s military dependence allowed Russia to anchor itself in the region, Azerbaijan presented a hindrance. The main contention between Moscow and Baku was around the latter’s refusal to participate in the CIS. While the collective security treaty signed in Tashkent did not at that point stipulate any form of bilateral support to Armenia, it nevertheless demarcated a line between “pro-Russian” and “anti-Russian” states in the Southern Caucasus. In its dealings with Azerbaijan, Moscow often used its “pro-Armenian” position to pressure Baku to endorse the CIS and allow for the stationing of the Russian base there. The situation shifted in Russia’s favor with the fall of an openly pro-Turkish and anti-CIS leader Aboulfaz Elchibey later that year whose regime shattered as a result of the Armenian military victories. This oust has been widely believed to be a Kremlin success. The circumstantial evidence includes the timing of the coup, the month of June, during which Elchibey was preparing to sign a multibillion contract with the Western oil companies on the exploitation and the transportation of the Caspian oil. Another red flag was the circumstance of the Russian withdrawal from Ganja city base at the end of May. The withdrawing Russian units left behind a large number of arms and ammunition that were subsequently used by the rebels who were stationed in the same city.49 Coincidentally, just a few months into his presidency, on September 7, 1993, Heydar Aliyev joined the CIS. Again, allegedly, it was Aliyev’s return and his subsequent endorsement of the CIS that inspired a large-scale Azerbaijani offensive in December 1993 and caused very intense fighting at the frontline.50 The ultranationalist Elchibey was replaced by a highly pragmatic and politically savvy leader who knew how to talk to Moscow. Aliyev’s ascendance to power in Baku marked a qualitative change in RussianAzerbaiani relations, and it fit well with Russia’s own expectations from the region.

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In his February 28, 1994, address Yeltsin announced that Russia had a “vital interest” in the territory of the former USSR. This signaled the emergence of the so-called Yeltsin doctrine, which marked a shift away from a multilateral approach that envisioned cooperation with the West in the regional politics to Russia’s unilateral efforts.51 This policy was rooted in the increasing prominence of the “Eurasianist” view, which posited that the integration between the NIS and Russia was a historically inevitable and natural process that would be both political and military in character. Some observers pointed out to this development as the resumption of “neo-imperial” policies, whereby “Russian predominance over the economic infrastructure of the former Union ensures it not only a pivotal position within the CIS but is increasingly being used to inhibit the external orientation of the other states, particularly those of the Asian periphery.”52 The Caucasus presented a particular challenge with its array of unresolved disputes, such as the ones between Georgia and Abkhazia and Armenia and Azerbaijan, and with the conflict in Chechnya. While on the one hand, the security of Russia’s borders would only increase with the resolution of these conflicts, the persistence of these conflicts in reality assured Russia’s continued presence in the region and was often used to justify a military presence. Likewise, this put a continued pressure on the governments of those countries that seemed to slip away from Moscow’s grip. The triad of “bases-borders-peacekeeping” became the cornerstone of the Russian pursuit of security in the conflict zones.53 As D. Trenin suggests, “[P]eacemaking, emphasizing the ‘special role’ of the Russian army as the only force capable of bringing a measure of order to the conflict areas, has helped to secure a legal basis for continued presence of Russia armed forces on the territory of the NIS.”54 One of the most controversial aspects of Russian peacekeeping initiatives, according to Celeste A. Wallander, stemmed from a fundamental confusion among the Russian military as to what actually constitutes peacekeeping. The reluctance of the Russian military elite to adopt the concept of multilateralism resulted in situations when it [used] ostensibly legitimate multilateral instruments to a limited degree for assertive and narrow Russian interests … The real problems with Russian policy and practice in peace operations lies … with the mixing of peacekeeping and collective security operations, the strong military element in Russian peacemaking practice, the refusal to accept international standards of peacekeeping (neutrality and impartiality in particular), and the claim to a special Russian role by the right of its national security interest.55

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Reflecting this policy, Moscow assumed a very active, even aggressive role in negotiating a ceasefire between Armenian and Azerbaijani forces by sidelining Washington and Ankara. The ceasefire was signed on May 12, 1994, in Bishkek, with a subsequent new agreement ratified by Armenia, Azerbaijan, and Nagorno-Karabakh in June. One of the major hindrances during the negotiations was Russia’s insistence on excluding other observers from both the CIS and CSCE and fulfilling the peacekeeping mission alone. This became one of the main points of contention between Moscow and Baku, which envisioned the presence of the Russian peacekeepers only under the control of international observers. The Russians were accusing the Minsk Group of sabotaging the only available option, while on the other hand, the Western powers accused the Russians of an attempt to block an alternative peace plan that was supported by the international community. In the end, none of the plans came to fruition. The Russian-Azerbaijani standoff regarding the peacekeeping issue was to a large extent rooted in Aliyev’s newly found confidence boosted by the oil factor, which culminated in the so-called Deal of the Century on September 20, 1994, between Azerbaijan and the major U.S., UK, Turkish, Saudi, Japanese, and Russian oil companies. Although Russia’s Lukoil held a 10 percent share in the deal, the Russian Foreign Ministry refused to recognize the contract by referring to the lack of agreement among the Caspian littoral states on the development of the Caspian oil reserves. Adding to the mounting tensions between Moscow and Baku, a group of rebels attempted a coup against Aliyev in October, which Azerbaijani president implicitly blamed on Kremlin. Among the reasons cited was his acceptance of the oil deal and his refusal to station Russian troops on the Azeri soil: “It is possible to think that the events which followed the signing of the contract are merely coincidental. But they can also be seen as a logical progression … All these facts come together and aim to threaten Azerbaijan’s independence by overthrowing the existing government which is its guarantor.”56 Late 1994 was a period of increased efforts by the Ter-Petrosyan administration to take part in Western designs for an energy transit in the Caucasus. Armenia was being considered as one of the possible transit countries along with Turkey but that meant that the route would circumvent Russia. The president was eager to achieve a breakthrough in Turkish-Armenian relations, and those last months of 1994 can be considered as the heyday of his pro-Turkish direction. Armenia’s new political elite were striving to take part in the new world order and reconcile with Turkey while simultaneously distancing Armenia from Russia.57 Yet, Ter-Petrosyan’s designs failed and Armenia and Russia both remained excluded from the Western plans. At the same time, Armenia’s economic

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crisis pushed her closer toward Russia. Popular attitudes swayed back to a traditionally pro-Russian orientation, largely because of the fact that massive waves of migrants leaving Armenia in the winter of 1993 in their search of jobs and heat ended up in major Russian cities. According to the poll conducted at the end of 1993, 80 percent of the population supported the idea of economic and military cooperation with Russia. That same year, the deputy foreign minister A. Kirakosyan referred to Yerevan’s Russian direction as the most versatile and fruitful sphere of Armenian foreign policy. As one political observer commented at the time, Accusations put against the current government in being anti-Russian are a way to simplify the reality. The search for self-identification brought about attempts to set a distance from the big brother in all the former Soviet republics. It would be a stretch to refer to today’s Armenian policy as being anti-Russian. On the contrary, it carries very well defined pro-Russian tilt.58

In 1995, Armenia agreed to preserve the Russian base in Gyumri for another twenty-five years. Yet, Russian domestic politics were undergoing major reshuffling, and the military establishment no longer held the monopoly over foreign policy toward the NIS states. In the summer of 1996, at the beginning of his second term, Yeltsin asked Pavel Grachev to leave the post of the defense minister. The appointment of Yevgeny Primakov as a foreign minister on the other hand ushered in a new era of pragmatism and increased interest in strengthening Russia’s position in the region through diplomatic means. This new pragmatism was fused with the economic changes and the emerging power of new players, the oil companies. Such giants as Lukoil were increasingly eager to receive greater shares of Azerbaijani oil. In Armenia, on the other hand, Levon Ter-Petrosyan’s internal position was weakening caused by the regime’s corruption and his withdrawal from the electorate. Both in Russia and Armenia, the overwhelming political popularity that brought Yeltsin and Ter-Petrosyan to power was evaporating. Their second terms were filled with political reshuffling, accusations, and public disillusionment. The September 1996 elections in Armenia were marred by massive electoral violations; yet Russia instantly endorsed Ter-Petrosyan’s victory. In turn, after Yeltsin’s reelection, Ter-Petrosyan was among the first to congratulate him on Russia’s “liberation from the nightmare of the Communist ideology” and pointed out that his country and Russia “share a common culturalhistoric space.”59 Behind this rhetoric was the feeling of increasing

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isolation, both domestically and internationally. Criticism of the elections by the Western observers coupled with Armenia’s subsequent diplomatic failure during the Lisbon meeting of the OSCE placed the government was under the increasing pressure to secure Russian support. As a Russian observer noted, “[A] significant number of Ter-Petrosyan’s supporters believed that the ‘friendship’ with the West will cost Armenia unacceptable concessions on Karabakh and the issue of the recognition of the genocide. This meant that the West can use Armenia’s internal political difficulties for the attainment of its goals.”60 In the summer of 1996, Armenia and Russia signed a series of critically important military agreements. These included documents on bilateral military cooperation, intergovernmental protocol on equipment deliveries, protocol on radar and electronic systems, protocols on air defense cooperation, and many others.61 These developments culminated in the signing of the Armenian-Russian Agreement on Friendship, Cooperation, and Mutual Assistance on August 29, 1997. First of its kind in the CIS, this treaty was characterized by Ter-Petrosyan himself as raising overall Russian-Armenian relations above the level of the RussiaBelarus Union. The treaty envisages mutual military support if either side is attacked or considers itself threatened by a third party. The two parties further pledged not to join any alliance or defense treaty directed against Russia or Armenia. For Armenia, the treaty ensured Russian military backing against potential Azerbaijani revanche, while for Russia it secured a reliable base in a geostrategically crucial region. Unlike its other allies in CIS, Tajikistan and Belarus, Armenia was “far more acceptable politically and capable militarily—a net asset as an ally.”62 That same year, Yerevan and Moscow ratified accords on the stationing of Russian border troops on the Armenian territory and the Russian military base number 102 in the city of Gyumri. This military alliance along with Russia’s role as Armenia’s economic lifeline over the course of the first gruesome years after the independence produced a general feeling that Moscow “has reprised its role as a close friend of the Armenian people.”63 A close partnership with Moscow seemed so organic among ordinary Armenians that some even called to join the Russia-Belarus union. On September 5, 1997, an organization named Armenian People’s Initiative Russia-Belarus-Armenia appealed to the Armenian authorities to conduct a national referendum on the inclusion of Yerevan into the union based on 1,022,342 signatures in favor of the union collected across the country. During the August CIS summit in Moscow, Ter-Petrosyan denied that such intention existed.64 In a poll conducted by the Armenian Academy of Sciences early in 1996, majority of respondents preferred Russian peacekeeping forces and mediation to the OSCE.65

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Ter-Petrosyan’s ambition to inject Armenia’s foreign policy with reason and balance was buried under diplomatic and military agreements with Russia, plunging Armenia even deeper into Russia’s orbit. In a speech delivered at the ceremony of the opening of the new Russian embassy building in Yerevan in November 1997, Levon Ter-Petrosyan articulated a complete reversal of his original goal to correct the “300-year old mistake” by stating that “as much as been done in practical terms over the last few years to strengthen bilateral relations as was previously done during 300 years of Russian-Armenian ties.”66 1998–2005: The End of Platonic Love Levon Ter-Petrosyan’s policy of “pragmatism” expressed through his strategy of separating interests of Armenia and Karabakh found evidence in his acceptance of the Nagorno-Karabakh settlement plan put forth by OSCE in 1997. After Armenia’s major diplomatic failure at the Lisbon summit in December 1996, where all the participants (with the exception of the Armenian delegation) agreed on the inviolability of the principle of territorial integrity of Azerbaijan, a series of negotiations were initiated by the newly formed troika within the Minsk Group—Russia, the United States, and France. In September 1997, the troika suggested a new peace proposal for Karabakh, which envisioned a so-called step-by-step approach. According to this plan, the final status of the enclave would be discussed only after the issues of refugees and territories are resolved. For the Armenians, the territories presented a major bargaining chip and a guarantee of security, and the discussion of the final status could only be conducted hand in hand with the issue of land within the so-called package approach. Against this background, the president’s decision to agree to the Minsk Group proposal was perceived by the majority of political forces as detrimental for Armenia and even treacherous. This contentious decision that eventually led to the president’s political demise can be primarily explained by the fact that “Ter-Petrosyan’s view was based on the recognition of national interests of Armenia as opposed to the interests of Karabakh.”67 The so-called peace party led by Ter-Petrosyan insisted that the blockade suffocating Armenia’s economy could only be removed by establishing long-lasting peace with Azerbaijan, and by extension, with Turkey. Armenia could not loose this window of opportunity, considering that the oil revenues beginning to pour into the Azerbaijani economy could seriously shift the military balance between the two countries in Baku’s favor. Despite its perfectly logical political reasoning, this rationale could not be accepted collectively. By agreeing to the settlement, Ter-Petrosyan reached the red line that demarcated the permissible

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boundaries of the issue, which was demonstrated by a total unification of the opposition against the administration. The power ministries headed by Vazgen Sarkisyan and Serzh Sarkisyan, supported by Robert Kocharyan, Karabakh’s former president who had been recently appointed as Armenia’s prime minister, openly challenged Levon Ter-Petrosyan’s position. They were supported by the opposition, the intelligentsia, Diaspora organizations, and the Armenian media.68 Under the increasing political and societal pressure, Ter-Petrosyan announced his resignation on February 3, 1998. During March 30, 1998, election, Robert Kocharyan was elected with a small margin over the former communist leader Karen Demirchyan; thus ushering in the victory of the “Karabakh” party in Armenia. There is always room for conspiracy theories in any political crisis, and the “soft” coup in Armenia was no exception. There have been speculations that Russia played a role in the February events. Even if Russia did nothing apparent to bring in such an unexpected result as the resignation of LTP [Levon Ter-Petrosyan], the nothing it did was already something: it seems that Yeltsin at the last moment abandoned support of LPT, and this became another reason for LTP to resign.69

There is no doubt that changes on the Armenian political landscape were of critical importance to Russia and that a potential deal with Azerbaijan and Armenia’s improved relations with Turkey would negatively impact Russia’s position in the region. In contrast, Ter-Petrosyan’s resignation ushered in the rise of power ministries and the Karabakh element to even more prominence in the Armenian politics, a favorable development for Moscow. The consolidation of the regime in Yerevan was accompanied by a dramatic power struggle within the political establishment and particularly the defense ministry. The assassinations of two defense ministry officials in December 1998 and February 1999, respectively, were tied to the alleged tensions between the defense ministry and the ministry of internal affairs. The most tangible tension however was taking place between Robert Kocharyan and Vazgen Sarkisyan along with the latter’s loyal Erkrapah movement uniting all the Karabakh veterans. Both were war veterans and both had strong and hardheaded personalities. Sarkisyan however was more charismatic, had close ties with the Russian military establishment, and by virtue of being local had more influence in Armenia. Polls conducted before the May 1999 parliamentary elections revealed Kocharyan’s surprising unpopularity among Armenians.

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The May elections resulted in the most impressive alignment on the Armenian political landscape since independence. For the first time, leading positions in the government were to be occupied by three strong leaders, Kocharyan, Sarkisyan, and Demirchyan. The coalition government that was formed following the elections reflected the combined preferences of the majority of the public, a remarkable situation in the postwar Armenian society, particularly considering the enormous unpopularity of Ter-Petrosyan in the last years of his presidency. There was a prevailing atmosphere of hope, exhilaration, and confidence in the future. In this light, the October 27 assassinations of Vazgen Sarkisyan and Karen Demirchyan during the session of the Armenian National Assembly dealt a massive blow to the political trust and social expectations. The trauma of those events undercut a short-lived uplifting sense of political harmony and ushered in a new period of political apathy that has plagued Armenian public space ever since. Already widely considered as an outsider, Kocharyan lost majority of his popular support after the assassinations. He remained alone, isolated and facing a very skeptical public, tensions with the army and the Erkrapah, and a pressing need to repair Armenia’s tarnished image. This dictated tough policies domestically and flexible engagement internationally. The main issues on the foreign policy agenda of the newly elected president were as follows: (1) the resolution of NagornoKarabakh conflict, (2) greater stress on the doctrine of “complementarity,” (3) establishment of friendly and beneficial relations with the Armenian diaspora, and (4) strengthening of the European/Western direction of foreign relations. Kocharyan grappled with the issue of Armenian-Turkish relations, careful not to make belligerent statements, and yet determined to establish a marked difference between himself and his predecessor by announcing that the issue of the genocide would not be silenced. We are neighbor countries, and we must find common ground, but, I repeat, not at the expense of our historical memory.70

These deliberations resulted in a more confident tone and perceived a shift in Armenia’s foreign policy toward closer engagement with the West, associated with the growing influence of Vartan Oskanian—a diasporan Armenian. Stable influx of the American aid secured through the efforts of the Armenian lobby was proudly ascribed to the remarkable political stability that set Armenia favorably against the two other regional states. Domestically, Kocharyan moved swiftly to breach the autonomous position of the military and bring it under the presidential control. This

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policy culminated in a decree giving the president the right to appoint and dismiss all the high-ranking officers in the army and in the defense ministry. The deaths of such influential pro-Russian politicians as Sarkisyan and Demirchyan caused major alarm in Moscow. It tipped the balance in favor of a “pro-Western” element on the Armenian political landscape and marked the growing influence of the Western-educated foreign minister Vartan Oskanian. Immediately after the attacks, Western observers projected that Russia would attempt to “move heavy power into Armenia.”71 As a first step, acting president Putin sent a special FSB antiterrorist unit, the Alpha Group, to Yerevan to work closely with top-security officials.72 At a press conference in Vladivostok on October 28, Putin remarked that the events in Yerevan “confirmed again that it is necessary to fight terrorism without any compromise and up to the end.”73 The Armenian crisis was used to support a rationale for an entrenched presence in the Caucasus and Central Asia, particularly in light of its resuming campaign in Chechnya. Speculations that Russian generals participated in the postOctober 27 regime consolidation are difficult to verify, but an elusive statement made by Col-Gen Ivashov illustrates that the Russian defense establishment did not remain indifferent to the changes in Armenia. A change in the state’s political line may become a reason for our anxiety. As for the Armenian–Russian military servicemen, they are devoted to Armenian–Russian military cooperation. But it is not true that we military servicemen intrude in political processes. Yes, Russia has direct interests in Armenia. The essence of them is to maintain our strategic relations, so that Armenia is stable and strong from the strategic as well as the economic point of view, so that it is a friend and colleague for Russia.74

In addition to being a “wild card” and unknown politically, Kocharyan was perceived in Moscow as a “pro-Western” politician. When it came to Armenian-Russian relations, the new president did not want to remain satisfied with solely military alliance but pressed for expanding Russia’s commitment into the economic sphere. Being an experienced administrator, Kocharyan saw the urgency and opportunity in capitalizing on Armenia’s close relationship with Russia through deriving an economic benefit from it. While still as an acting president, Kocharyan invariably emphasized that economic ties were noticeably underdeveloped in comparison with the military partnership.75 The position of the ruling elite was that the time arrived for Russia to demonstrate more concrete gestures and define the relationship in symmetrical terms, and as mutually beneficial. As Khosrov Harutyunyan, the chairman of the Armenian

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National Assembly noted, although relations between the two countries have no “party political dimension” and are unaffected by the changes in the leadership, “Russia’s military and political presence is not enough to ensure the full implementation of the Russian-Armenian strategic partnership.”76 The shadow of the United States over the region, and the increasing need to engage in multiple partnerships, created a sense of urgency to clarify the parameters of Armenia’s cooperation with Moscow. As another politician remarked, “A woolly policy does not suit a country like Russia, and a vacuum cannot be left empty.”77 This rhetorical change in Armenia’s position vis-à-vis Russia and the United States was foremost expressed in a new doctrine of “complementarity.” It was attributed to Vartan Oskanian to “have caused an allergic reaction in Russian circles of authority.”78 This doctrine was endorsed by Kocharyan and reflected his firm belief in the opportunities available to Armenia, without having to sacrifice on the Nagorno-Karabakh issue. Expanding economic and political relations with the West was seen as an appropriate tool for balancing out the ongoing blockade. To demonstrate Yerevan’s interest, in April 1999, Kocharyan attended NATO’s fiftieth anniversary celebrations in Washington. Although he subsequently hosted the regular meeting of the CIS Council of Defense ministers in Yerevan, the Washington visit was still perceived by some Armenian domestic groups, namely, the Communist Party as a betrayal of Russia. Russian reaction to the modified Armenian position was mixed. On the one hand, it continued displaying (at least on the surface) an overall acceptance of Armenia’s emerging “complementarity.” In May 2000, answering a reporter’s question about his relationship with Putin, the Armenian president commented, “[W]e are both the same age. We understand each other, I think very well … I do not understand why people have been saying over the past months that something is going to change in Armenia’s foreign policy.”79 In September 2000, a series of agreements were signed between Armenia and Russia on the restructuring of the Armenian debt, on military issues, and on cooperation in the energy sphere. Under one of the agreements, the defense ministries agreed on the joint use of troops formed in case military threats arise to both Russia and Armenia. Yet, similar to Armenia, domestic changes also affected Russian foreign policy accents. The first signals of the so-called Putin Doctrine became first evident in Foreign Minister Sergey Ivanov’s statement in the fall of 2000: “From now Russia intends to pay more attention to the problems of the Caucasus and will try to develop relations with Azerbaijan more dynamically.”80 This policy was formulated by the Russian Security Council in the spring of 2000, reflecting Putin’s resolve to assume a more

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active position in the Caspian region and to counter U.S. and Western presence there. This new paradigm was a reflection of the deteriorating U.S.-Russian relations in the European theater in the late 1990s because of the Balkan events. Witnessing NATO’s intervention in Kosovo, Moscow was apprehensive of a similar scenario unraveling on its southern frontiers.81 The emphasis now shifted to exploiting Russia’s economic influence to gain benefits for Russia’s domestic economy. Thus, whereas in the early and mid-Russian 1990s Russian policy in the Caspian had been motivated primarily by political and security considerations, after April 2000 economic interests became paramount. Concomitantly, President Yeltsin’s policy, albeit undeclared, of winning influence through regaining territorial control by political and military means, was abandoned.82

Russia’s goal to attract Azerbaijan into its embrace could be seen at multiple levels all the way down to diplomatic protocol. When Kocharyan visited Moscow in September 2000, neither the president nor the prime minister arrived to greet the Armenian president at the airport. On the day of the official meeting between the presidents, the Russian foreign minister Ivanov announced Putin’s plans to visit Baku shortly thereafter. While talking to the press about the outcomes of the meeting, Putin remarked that Armenia does not need special benefits. As one commentator observed, it was “a strange attitude towards a strategic partner, particularly one that is in such dire social-economic situation.”83 Moreover, Putin added, “Russia does not possess any special rights in the settlement process of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict.”84 This was a veiled response to Prime Minister Serzh Sarkisyan’s earlier assurances that Armenia intended to further develop strategic relations with Moscow. After Putin’s visit to Azerbaijan in January 2001, Armenian political commentators began talking about a “growing threat of conceptual crisis” in Armenian-Russian relations.85 It coincided with the renewal of Western efforts to accelerate the reconciliation between Turkey and Armenia and a short period of intense dialogue between the two countries that followed. Moscow proposed a military partnership to Aliyev, also hinting at a more benevolent stance in the Armenian-Azerbaijani conflict. There was also forming a mutual understanding on the Caspian problem. One of the principal goals of Russia with regards to Azerbaijan has remained the establishment of cooperation in the energy sphere, more specifically energy transportation. Moscow expressed satisfaction with the statements of support articulated by Aliyev in regards to Russian actions in Chechnya. During his visit to Baku, Putin laid flowers on the monument devoted

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to the Azerbaijani civilians killed in Baku in clashes with the Soviet army during January 1990. Armenian observers and members of Moscow’s Armenian diaspora reacted with “surprise and pain” that a leader if a country they perceived as Armenia’s strategic partner was commemorating the deaths of those who were responsible for the Armenian pogroms in Baku.86 The Armenian press reacted in similar fashion: Moscow’s flirtation with Baku to the detriment of Yerevan and Stepanakert may cause disappointment in the pro-Russian circles of Armenian society, and in the army. Therefore, by pressuring Kocharyan over the Karabakh issue, Russia may loose the Armenian army. But this is even more serious than receiving the imaginary loyalty of Azerbaijan, which has directed its orientation towards the USA and Turkey forever. All this means that the pursuit of the policy of possible (but unrealistic) plans to attract Azerbaijan to its sphere of influence by violating Armenia’s interests will in the long run lead to the point when Russia will loose the entire South Caucasus.87

Some Russian commentators described Moscow’s policies as prematurely confident and politically stagnant, in stark contrast with active Western efforts to woe Armenia. Vladimir Stupishin, the first Russian ambassador to Armenia (1991–1995) expressed skepticism that the policy line pursued by Putin was in tune with the United State’s view of Azerbaijan and Uzbekistan as pivotal regional states. The response initiated by Putin in late 1999 was a clear effort to turn the tide and win back influence. The Russian Government reacted as if the Caspian region were part of a zero-sum game and tried its best to win that kind of game.88

With these developments, even the most long-term aspect of the strategic relations, the stationing of the Russian base in Gyumri came under question. This coincided with the renewal of Western efforts to accelerate the reconciliation between Turkey and Armenia and a short period of intense dialogue between the two countries that followed. In January 2001, at a press conference in Yerevan, Serzh Sarkisyan noted, “[A]s soon as the threat [from Turkey] ceases to exist, we will need to think about the fate of the Russian border troops in Armenia.”89 Yerevan’s dissatisfaction was exacerbated by the fact that not only Putin’s policies obviously placed Yerevan in an unequal partnership with Moscow but also that business circles in Russia demanded exclusive privileges due to Russia’s “special” status. Thus, they did not hide their displeasure that Western companies and not Russian have been exclusively

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chosen for privatization bid of electricity network. There were also reportedly negotiations underway to transfer the channels broadcasting Russian programs to the Western, mainly U.S., companies. Moscow was very concerned that the closure of the Russian broadcasting in Armenia would result in a dramatic shrinkage of Russian informational space in Armenia and by extension, of the Russian presence. Putin’s visit to Armenia in May 2001 for a meeting of the member council of the CIS was intended to address all these grievances. During the summit in Yerevan, even Putin’s body language was subjected to a careful scrutiny by the Armenian media. In one of the meetings Putin and Kocharyan were sitting side by side however, as one journalist observed, instead of striking a conversation with the Armenian president, Putin turned the other way. The Armenian media reacted by issuing warnings about Russia’s intentions: “Russia has its own interests and Caspian oil is more valuable to it than a strategic partnership.”90 After the election of Ilham Aliyev as Azerbaijan’s president the issue of Nagorno-Karabakh resurfaced more prominently. During the transfer of power in Azerbaijan, both Russia and the United Stated adopted “wait and see” attitude. The first meeting between Ilham Aliyev and Vladimir Putin demarcated two most important issues on the agenda of the bilateral relations: cooperation in the energy sphere and the resolution of Nagorno-Karabakh issue. The widespread opinion, particularly among Azerbaijanis, was that the former is Moscow’s condition for the settlement of the latter, and since Azerbaijan has openly aligned itself with the United States and Western oil companies, Moscow used NagornoKarabakh issue to pressure Baku to provide opportunities to Russia for energy transportation deals. Moscow’s friendly rhetoric failed to convince Baku in a substantial change in Kremlin’s intentions. Such prominent foreign policy figures as Aliyev’s former national security adviser Vafa Gulazade warned against Russia’s role in inciting hostile attitudes between Azerbaijan and Armenia, whose new leadership, he argued, was inclined toward a peaceful settlement. You underestimate Russia’s desire to hold on and to consolidate its positions. The interests of the northern neighbor are in real jeopardy, meanwhile … The loss of Armenia would be a colossal blow to Russia.91

To ensure that it is at least firmly anchored in Armenia, Moscow embarked on a policy of “energy imperialism,” which was channeled through Armenia’s top ruling elite and benefited them economically. The most important issue was that of the Armenian debt for the Russian gas supplies and nuclear fuel. In 2000–2001, the Armenian energy minister

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Karen Galustyan held negotiations with his Russian colleague regarding $16 million debt for nuclear fuel and $10 million for the gas supplies. ITERA Oil and Gas Company that was responsible for gas supplies to Armenia even announced its intention to stop gas deliveries by February 2001 if the debt is not repaid in full. The solution that was “suggested” to Armenia was the transfer of certain industrial objects to Russia in exchange for forgiveness of the Armenian debt. Serzh Sarkisyan was one of the architects of the deal, and the leading Armenian politician conducting negotiations with the Russian side. Signed in November 2002, the agreement envisioned the settlement of Armenia’s $93.7 million Russian debt in exchange for the transfer of five Armenian industrial plants under Russian ownership: the “Mars” R&D Center, Institute of Materials Science, Institute of Automatic System of Management, the Institute of Mathematical Machines, and hydroelectric power plant on the Hrazdan River. This agreement not only illustrated elite’s financial interest in the deal but Russia’s unwavering interest in Armenia’s military-industrial complex (MIC). Armenia, being “one of the most militarized parts of the Soviet Empire,”92 had a unique advantage over other Soviet republics, in that within the Soviet economic structure, it was prioritized as an important producer of complex electronics for the military industry. Although two-thirds of all the enterprises remained closed due to the energy blockade, Armenian MIC was a fairly important prize for Moscow because Armenia’s electronic and radar technology was in high demand by the Russian aviation and rocket industries. The level of Russia’s interest in the deal became evident when Deputy Prime Minister Ilya Khlebanov was appointed to lead negotiations for the Russian side. Khlebanov previously held positions in the Russian MIC.93 In October 2003, in another deal negotiated between Anatoly Chubais, the chairman of the Board of the “Unified Energy Systems (UES) of Russia” and the leading figures of the Armenian government, including the president, the prime minister, the minister of defense, and the minister of energy, seven major power facilities were transferred under the Russian management including the same Hrazdan central heating and power plant and a complex of five other hydropower stations of Sevan-Hrazdan cascade. RAO “UES of Russia” obtained the rights to operate the Metsamor nuclear power station in repayment of debt for the nuclear fuel. Armenia retained the ownership of the facility. These economic agreements spurred a heated debate in Armenia and brought the issue of Armenian-Russian cooperation to the forefront of political infighting. Skepticism about Russian intentions grew in parallel with criticism of Kocharyan’s administration. By 2001, the so-called

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party of power led by Robert Kocharyan and Serz Sarkisyn took firm control over the judiciary, the parliament, and the military.94 In the light of increasing merger of elite’s economic interest and Russia’s ambitions for more influence over Armenia, opposition’s disdain for the leadership extended to Moscow. The concentration of power in the hands of a few coincided with a process, in which Russia appeared to become the “grey cardinal of the Armenian political scene.”95 Serzh Sarkisyan was becoming to be known as “Moscow’s man in Yerevan.”96 The opposition accused Robert Kocharyan of selling out to the Russians who, it claimed, used economic means to increase political pressure upon Armenia. The increasing association of the regime with Russia was fueled by Kocharyan’s solicitation of Russia’s support as a guarantee of his political longetivity. The president visited Moscow on the eve of the February 2003 presidential elections. One of the opposition leaders declared that “Armenia will have to pay for Moscow’s attention with its national interests. These interests are the following: the Armenian Nuclear Power Station and the Sevan-Razdan power plant.”97 Because of the personalities involved in the deal, the consequences of these agreements upon Armenian economy and eventually security, some described this agreement as the process of “mortgaging of Armenian national security.”98 Presidential and parliamentary elections during the spring of 2003 were conducted in a very tense atmosphere, amid the chaos and obvious violations in the election process widely recognized by international observers. Vladimir Putin instantly endorsed Kocharyan’s victory by “warmly” congratulating the Armenian president “on a convincing and impressive victory.”99 The Russian ambassador to Armenia was the first diplomat to congratulate Kocharyan on the reelection. This compromised Kocharyan even more, who was now being labeled as Putin’s man in Yerevan. The common denominator of all the political forces in Armenia was their perception of Russia as an unreliable partner.100 Yet, the extent to which to engage with Russia varied from party to a party. The main political opponent of the tight strategic relationship between Armenia and Russia was the PANM (Pan-Armenian National Movement), which had continued to hold that the establishment of relations with Turkey and not deepening ties with Russia should be Yerevan’s foreign policy priority. As the chairman of the PANM, Ararat Zurabyan noted in his 2003 interview, “Our authorities accepted full domination of Russia in all issues, which leads Armenia to slavery.”101 On the opposite side of the spectrum, the First Secretary of the Armenian Communist Party General Committee, Ruben Tovmasyan argued that the reversal of pro-Russia policy could lead to disastrous consequences. To this group, Armenian-Russian relations were the only reliable outlet: “Our relations

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with Russia over the last 300 years have stood a serious test and have done the Armenian people only good.”102In between these two extreme poles was the ruling Republican party who believed in the necessity for a strong relationship with Russia, but was traditionally critical of Russia’s policies in the region. Dashnaktsutsyun, the second largest party in the parliament also pursued a pro-Russian line in the condition of lack of other alternatives, although it did not entertain many illusions in regards to Russian intentions. These two leading pro-government parties were critical of Russia’s inconsistent and manipulative policies. Even one of the most outspoken opposition parties, the Miasnutyun (Unity) Party headed by Artashes Geghamyan considered close ties between Russia and Armenia as inevitable. This public debate surrounding Russia was based on a normative juxtaposition of the Russian versus U.S. directions of foreign policy. For those opposed to the Kocharyan regime, Russian hegemony, set by Putin’s own domestic example, was equivalent to the suppression of political pluralism, to the reinforcement of unpopular regimes, and to archaic methods of imperial and colonial pressure through economic domination. The security of Kocharyan’s regime was in fact to a large extent guaranteed by the Kremlin, which preferred the man it knew to an opposition that called for closer links with the West. Emerging anti-Russian sentiments in Yerevan were also reflective of insurmountable and somewhat personal animosity toward Kocharyan and his supporters on the part of the opposition forces and the larger public who view both Kocharyan and Sarkisyan as “outsiders” (because of their Karabakh origins). Pro-Kocharyan Russian-language Yerevan newspaper, Golos Armenii, claims that there was an obvious link between the decision of the Constitutional court to conduct a referendum or a vote of confidence for Kocharyan in the spring of 2003 and Washington’s increasing pressure on the Armenian president, whose uncompromising position on Nagorno-Karabakh and unwavering closeness to Russia, made Armenia a regional wild card. The same Golos Armenii even conveys what it refers to as “a shockingly candid statement” made by one of the leaders of the opposition, Stepan Demirchyan, to the journalists inquiring about his future intentions the morning after the demonstrations. According to the article, Demirchyan promised to give an answer to that question after consulting with the ambassadors of Germany and the United States.103 Against the backdrop of demonstrations and pervasive unpopularity of Kocharyan, Moscow continued to express its unequivocal support to Kocharyan under different occasions, including the Novo-Ogarevo talks in May 2004 between Kocharyan and Putin in the aftermath of

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demonstrations in Yerevan.104 This ardent support was a direct result of Saakashvili’s Rose Revolution that propelled Moscow to nurture and strengthen its strategic partnerships throughout the CIS, at least in rhetoric. The Georgia connection caused another crisis in the relationship when Moscow decided to close the Georgian-Russian border in response to the terrorist attacks in Beslan on September 1, 2004. The closure of the only functioning land link between Armenia and Russia resulted in a massive economic loss amounting to $3 million. Russia’s unilateral decision to close the border, in what was alleged as a desire to punish Georgia, openly disregarding consequences it would bring upon its “strategic ally” caused a wave of protests and discontent in Yerevan. While officials tried to downplay the economic impact of these actions while raising their concerns, the opposition’s criticism of Moscow was unrestrained. The former prime minister Vazgen Manukyan remarked, “I am convinced that it [the border decision] has nothing to do with terrorism. This is simply political pressure on Georgia. That Armenia is suffering from it does not matter to Russia. It [Moscow] will trample our national interests for the sake of its own interests.”105 The Armenian media unanimously condemned Moscow’s decision. Azg, an independent pro-Russian daily declared that “[t]he Russian-Armenian strategic partnership is called into question.” As a commentator for Azg stated in early October: “If Russia really wants to stir up anti-Russian sentiment among Armenia’s political circles and public in general, it can continue this blockade.”106 Golos Armenii provided the following assessment that tellingly conveyed the overall mood in Armenia: The choice between Turkey and Russia has always resulted in one answer— Russia. However, recently this seemingly natural choice has been questioned by various groups in the Armenian society. In the eyes of Armenians who traditionally equated anything anti-Russian with everything antiArmenian, calls to distance the nation from Russians finds more sympathy than ever before. One of the major reasons is the closure of GeorgianRussian border, which was virtually Armenia’s bloodline, the only link to the outside world. This action by the Russian authorities revealed the level of dependence of Armenian economy and trade on Russia. In the month of October, Vartan Oskanian stated that Armenia can leave under the blockade for 100 more years. However, Armenian media and public opinion questioned that logic given how much the country has lost in trade because of Russia’s unilateral and selfish decision. Although Russian authorities attempted to offer alternative routes to alleviate the problem, little was done. What Armenia is offered is an existence in the conditions of “geopolitical wonder or absurd.” Russia’s actions are unpredictable and they

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force their ally to look towards south—Turkey and Iran. Armenian people in their majority continue to connect their future with Russia, however if Russia makes these conditions unbearable, it could well result in a search for new answers to old questions.107

The increasing sense of a “geopolitical absurdity,” in which Armenia is living, was more pervasive among educated elite. In a survey conducted in May 2004 by an independent think tank, the ACNIS (Armenian Center for National and International Studies), 66 percent of the fifty political and public policy experts that were interviewed expressed a desire to see Armenia as a member of NATO within the next decade. Russia was described as the foreign power that “restricts the republic’s independence and state-building” by 56 percent of the respondents; two-thirds of them disagreed with the stipulation that “the presence of the Russian military base in Armenia is the main guarantee for our national security in the region.”108 The one in August, however, found that opinions among the broader Armenian population remain strongly pro-Russian. Almost 90 percent of 2,000 respondents described Russia as a friendly nation. Only 47 percent had the same perception of the United States. The domestic revision of Russian-Armenian relations and swift ascendance of the United States in the region must be situated within the global changes after 9/11 and their regional resonance. The changes themselves were twofold. On the one hand, the Eurasian direction in Russian foreign policy thinking became even more pronounced after 9/11 in reaction to the prioritization of the Southern Caucasus and Central Asia in the global struggle against terrorism and as a consequence, Western advance in the region. To some, it meant the revival of centuries-old “Great Game,” in which the United States replaced Great Britain in competing with Russia for economic and geopolitical influence in the “Eurasian heartland.” On the other hand, the period following 9/11 revealed another important development, a synchronization of U.S.-Russian interests, with two sides considering Russia’s southern flank or so-called soft underbelly to be a strategic outpost in the antiterrorism struggle. These developments have benefited small states like Armenia in that they transformed them from being the subjects of the global and regional politics into objects capable of influencing the major actors. As Martha Brill Olcott notes, When one’s geopolitical focus is one of containing threats from the Middle East, the Persian Gulf, and Afghanistan, the states of the South Caucasus seem less remote than would otherwise be the case. Similarly, access to assets

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that are relatively small, such as Azerbaijan’s oil supply, becomes all the more critical when larger sources of oil seem ever less dependable.109

Armenia’s reaction to 9/11 fell within the framework of the Collective Security Treaty, of which Kocharyan was the rotating chairman. In October 2001, Armenia announced that its airspace was available for the U.S. air force carrying out an antiterrorist operation, on the grounds of a joint strategy adopted by the CIS Collective Security Treaty signatories. Nevertheless, Armenia’s response cannot simply be explained by the CSC coordinated strategy but falls within a larger perspective of its policy of complementarity. As Vartan Oskanian explains: We do not see a contradiction between our cooperation with the United States and Russia. With Russia of course it’s much deeper … There is no contradiction between our cooperation with the US and Russia because the policy we have been adopting—employing in this past six years, a policy of complementarity, allows us to do that. The complementarity policy is not a policy of balance. A policy of balance requires that what you do with one try to do equally with the other so that you create a balance. Complementarity gives us the opportunity to have an asymmetrical relation with two different powers. That’s the essence of complementarity, and it has worked for Armenia and will continue to employ it in the future as long as the contradiction and the differences between the United States and Russia have not gone deep enough to put us in a position where we have to choose between one or the other.110

Despite these assurances, political processes in the post-Soviet Eurasia threatened Russia’s direct interests and, since it could not resort to its old military and political means, it put forth an elaborate strategy of using “all the other instruments at its disposal to ensure that the domestic and foreign policy priorities of these states are congenial to Russian interests.”111 The increasing role of the Russian energy sector in dictating Moscow’s regional policies while undermining the interests of its closest allies was illustrated by the issue of the Armenian-Iranian pipeline. Fully aware of Armenia’s isolation from the regional energy transportation networks, Moscow nevertheless undermined plans to convert the IranArmenia gas main into a cross-country transit conduit at its early stages as it threatened Russia’s monopoly over gas supplies to Europe. Russia’s direction injects Armenian foreign policy with pragmatism but continues to challenge the rationale of such traditional reliance on Moscow given that Yerevan pays a high price for its “special” relationship. At the same time, Russia’s backing of ruling regimes in Armenia is bound to strengthen its association with unpopular governments. Yet, with all

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the changes in the normative lining of the relationship and continuous negotiation with historical and political rationale for this partnership, Ter-Petrosyan’s and Kocharyan’s policies toward Russia were bound by continuity rather than changes in security. Conclusion Armenian-Russian relations in the post-Soviet period should be situated within the complex interplay of the Armenian self that, for the last two centuries, has been premised on the idea of Russian support and regional geopolitics. Largely, the official articulation of this policy in Yerevan as “natural” and “organic” has coincided with the traditional Armenian perception of Russia as a protector. However, there was a parallel process that is rooted in the delegitimization of pro-Russian policies of the Kocharyan administration that is associated with the regime’s deepening dependence on Russian political, military, and economic backing. On a greater scale, in the context of regional and global challenges, the alliance with Russia is being increasingly perceived as yet another instance of the colonial and unequal relationship that forces Armenia into a permanent crisis. The security guarantee that historically has been Russia’s greatest “gift” to Armenia is no longer sufficient to justify and “normalize” this so-called “community of fate.”112 Rather, it is seen as extenuating Armenia’s isolation in an increasingly “globalized” region. This multilayered dynamic is caused by (1) global changes expressed through the U.S. preeminence and European expansion; (2) renewed Russian contestation of the global status quo by aggressively engaging in the regions such as the Southern Caucasus; and (3) The simultaneous and often contradictory processes of the Armenian quest for security and prestige as partnership with Russia enhances the former and undermines the latter. In the long run, RussianArmenian relations present the greatest challenge to Armenian foreign policy because they are most visibly embedded in the growing conceptual conflict between normative requirements and security needs.

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Chapter 2

Turkey: “The Other” The charge of “Armenian genocide” against Turkey is directly related to not only our national honor but also our foreign policy, economy, our image in the world, and our security.1 That is our only goal. This is a moral question. And most importantly—a question of honor.2

Introduction This chapter focuses on the existing impasse in the Armenian-Turkish relations. It argues that the issues placed on the bilateral agenda in the forms of preconditions do not adequately reflect the deep underlying threat perceptions rooted in a collective narrative. This explains the unexpected setbacks despite the favorable regional and structural developments. The reality of closed borders perpetuates the perception in Armenia of joint Turkish-Azerbaijani concerted policy to isolate Armenia and reinforces historical constructs and templates. The damage caused by the blockade is both material and psychological. The ambiguity in Turkish intensions and Turkish elite’s constant jockeying with various preconditions corrupts the existing inclination on the part of Armenia to enter a dialogue despite Turkish failure to recognize the genocide. While Dashnaktsutyun remains the only major Armenian party that puts forth the genocide issue as a precondition for normalizing relations with Turkey, Turkish establishment at large, even as pragmatic as the current one represented by Recep Tayyip Erdoˇgan’s Justice and Development Party (AKP), does not seem to be able to overcome its syndrome of suspicion of Armenians and to rise above ethnic affinities with Azerbaijan. Armenia’s foreign policy toward Turkey, restraints posed by the diaspora factor notwithstanding, has displayed a greater degree of maneuverability than Ankara’s. Although both sides have operated from the positions of

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fear and mistrust, it is obvious that the closed-border solution corresponds to Turkey’s perception of Armenia as a threat; the longer the diplomatic limbo continues, the more pressure Turkey can exert on its neighbor. It would be too simplistic to attribute the lack of relations to the NagornoKarabakh conflict despite the fact that Turkish-Azerbaijani ethnic “communion” has played a major role in defining Turkey’s policy toward the region. Rather the current deadlock is a direct consequence of Turkey’s self-image and the images of its neighbors, to a great extent reinforced by the Armenian nationalist rhetoric and the efforts of the Armenian diaspora. History has not been kind to this relationship; it recreated the conditions of fear and mistrust through the Nagorno-Karabakh movement, in which the collective narrative on both sides have been reenacted and entrenched. Moral justifications and the questions of honor and national pride have prevailed in this relationship amid the pragmatic forces pushing both sides toward each other. Turkey has even placed “Turkishness” on the hierarchy of political values; hence, the insult of “Turkishness” is considered to be a major breach of Turkish penal law. Armenian diaspora carries out the mission of pursuing historical justice, and the Armenian state incorporates that mission as its moral responsibility. The demise of the Soviet Union marked the beginning of an entirely new relationship between Armenia and Turkey. For the first time, they were facing each other as legitimate members of the international community. However, unlike the conditions during the infamous 1918–1920 period, this one appeared to have carried the possibilities of new beginnings. Turkey emerged from the Cold War as one of the major regional powers with a pragmatic security outlook and a tradition of nonintervention. Armenia was economically devastated, and in search of security, its leadership was eager to pursue normalization of relations with all its neighbors including its oldest foes. This chapter posits that an analysis of Armenian-Turkish relations should be grounded in a flexible and fluent framework, highlighting the interplay between the material and the ideational. Any account based on singling out one explanatory variable would fail to convey the complexity of the region and the multiple overlapping layers of politics of nationalism, historical memory, challenges of transition, and conflict. An analysis of Armenia’s foreign policy toward Turkey, from Armenia’s independence in 1991 to 2005, necessarily involves a reexamination of the historical legacy that has affected this relationship. The attempt to understand such a complex set of dynamics through a regional or geopolitical analysis simply reduces the complexity of such a relationship to a sterile set of propositions that cannot account for the set of policy choices made by Yerevan and Ankara.

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This area of Armenia’s foreign relations represents an especially difficult conundrum, on both the strategic and emotional levels. This is due to Armenia’s security predicament that is caused not only by relevant geopolitical configurations but also, significantly, by the politics of identity. This politics of identity became the cause for the dismal failure of the persistent attempt on the part of the Armenian government between 1991 and 1997 to escape the predicament imposed by a historical legacy rooted in tragedy and calamity. A politics of jettisoning the historical narrative for a new geopolitical “reality” could not survive the imagination of what some have thought should constitute not only the Armenian position vis-à-vis Turkey, but also what remains as Armenia’s position in the region and world itself. What this chapter demonstrates through its exegesis of the Armenian-Turkish historical narrative is that this historical imagery must be just as “real” and accounted for as that of the material factors in determining foreign policy choices. While the discourse of both parties remains that of land, security, and economic well-being, behind that language lurks the unyielding pull of historical gravity toward a mutual dissonance. The Armenian-Turkish relationship remains as much a hostage to concrete regional factors, such as the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, as it is to this historical consciousness. Both history and the present dictated that this relationship would take an unsteady path. While strictly speaking the issue of the genocide and the struggle of the Armenians in Nagorno-Karabakh are two separate issues, the historical context in which both these issues originated and evolved, the ethnic affinity between Azerbaijanis and Turks, as well as the dynamics of Turkey’s involvement in the conflict, molded it into one continuous and homogenous narrative through a single historical moment. In the Armenian collective memory, “Turkey” represents everything that is opposite to the essence of “Armenia.” This binary is a clear illustration of a phenomenon, to which Johann Galtung refers as a “syndrome”: The world is seen to be divided into two parts, the Inside and near, and the rest. Dichotomous distinctions are hard, the dividing lines watertight … These two parts are not only separate but also unequal, representing Good and Evil. This Good-Evil gradient coincided with Self-Other distinctions to the point that there is eloquent silence both about evil aspects of Self and about good aspects of Other.3

It would be futile to attempt to understand Armenian collective memory and identity “without situating the Genocide at its very center.”4 The trauma of the genocide became the prism through which not only the twentieth century, but the entire national history was viewed in retrospect.

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In the Armenian collective memory, Turkey thus became the “Other” that entirely negated the Self. The discussion of the role of historical events in contextualizing this particular relationship necessitates a distinction between the concepts of “history” and that of “collective memory” introduced by such scholars as Nora, Novick, Wertsch, and others.5 The major difference between these scholars lies in the fact that history, according to their view, records changes, while collective memory focuses on permanence and continuity. Memory has no sense of passage of time; it denies the “pastness” of its objects and insists on their continuing presence. Typically, a collective memory, at least a significant collective memory, is understood to express some eternal and essential truth about the group—usually tragic. A memory, once established, comes to define that eternal truth, and, along, with it an eternal identity, for the members of the group.6

Memories and past are rarely forgotten in the Southern Caucasus. Yet, even in such a historically conscious region, Armenian-Turkish relations stand out with the sheer immediacy and vivacity of history affecting these two neighbors. In certain sense, what G. Zerubavel describes as a process of “production of time” has never ceased to dictate the dynamics of this relationship.7 This process is actualized through the formation of a national narrative as “mnemonic” integration of disconnected periods into a seemingly connected historical time, which involves “not simply the appropriation of a part of historical experience but the construction in the present of a discourse that reproduces the past and transforms it into a national time.”8 Conventional geostrategic analysis downplays the fact that Armenia’s current security predicament is caused in a significant way by nationalist aspirations, and the so-called politics of memory expressed in the NagornoKarabakh movement and Armenian-Turkish relations. Armenia’s deep insecurity rests on perceptions and expectations rooted in the relatively recent past. If ninety years of history can be forgotten and rewritten, as demonstrated in the case of the Turkish official discourse surrounding the Armenian genocide, it can also profoundly shape contemporary perception of old neighbors while providing ready templates for understanding new situations, such as that of the Armenians. Yet, as in the case of the Armenians, history can also greatly contribute to a certain duality of perception; where real time is intertwined with a historical consciousness and where the existence of a metaphorical and imaginary homeland rivals with a spatially defined nation-state.

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In essence, what frames political discussions and critical decisions, as the above scholars argue, is not so much an understanding of history in terms of a set of factual events devoid of context, but rather a history recorded in the form of a collective narrative or memory. This form of history supplies the semantics—themes, heroes, and symbols—in order to be able to internalize change, predominantly during times of crisis. While for Armenia, the collapse of the Soviet Union presented a major rupture in Armenian historical consciousness, it, in fact, continued the narrative of Armenia’s survival and struggle for a place under the sun. Political cataclysms, ethnic conflict, and economic disaster following the collapse could only be internalized and accepted by the public as just another episode within a larger narrative being relived at the present time. It is vital therefore to simultaneously situate the historical analysis of Armenian-Turkish relations within two realms: that of historical events which dictate Armenia’s particular geopolitical position vis-à-vis Turkey and that of the domestic contextualization of these events in the period following independence together with their significance for the formulation of Armenia’s policy toward Turkey by the young Armenian elite. A Glance at History Despite the long history of Armenian-Turkish ties that sprang in the eleventh century with the arrival of the Oguz Turks into Asia Minor, it is only the brief twenty-five year period between 1895 and 1920 that serves as the emotional and strategic core of Armenian political thinking and collective perception of Turkey. From the Sultan Abdul Hamid massacres of 1895–1896 and the genocide of 1915, to the agony of the Armenian republic sandwiched between Kemal Attaturk’s Turkey and RSFSR, the tumultuous quarter century not only reified the underlying issues of Armenia’s national security thinking but also weaved the cosmic themes of eternal struggle between the self and the other into its modern and more specifically post-Soviet political milieu. While the fact of the genocide and its nonrecognition signifies the core unresolved emotional issue between the two peoples, the period immediately following the end of World War I carried enormous repercussions for Armenia’s modern geopolitical status and contemporary political developments. This period in history is looked upon as a period for the validation of contemporary policies while serving as a reservoir for “eternal” political truths about Armenia’s neighbors. The rise of Attaturk in Turkey left no illusions about the aspirations of the nationalists—to secure the Anatolian heartland and to prevent at all costs the loss of the Armenian vilayets as envisioned by the Treaty of

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Serves of August 10, 1920. Attaturk himself and his commanders have proclaimed that their goal was to march the Turkish army to occupy parts of Armenia and Georgia. This strategy was formulated as a part of a “National Pact” proclaimed in Istanbul in January 1920. It envisioned the capture of the provinces of Batum, Kars, Ardahan, and other parts of Armenia and Georgia.9 Attaturk’s audacity was boosted by the Soviet Russian-Turkish Nationalist Military Agreement signed in April 1920. The agreement intended to create a unified front against the West. On the Turkish side, this meant elimination of the land barrier between Russia and Turkey through neutralization of Georgia and annihilation of Armenia. Hence, the military campaign against Armenia seemed to be the only logical step. The Moscow government, on the other hand, throughout 1920 sought to conclude a separate treaty with the Dashnak republic with the goal of drawing the final boundaries between Armenia and Turkey before pursuing its final objective: a treaty of friendship with Turkish nationalists. During the negotiations, the Russian side offered to annex from Armenia three out of six vilayets promised to the Armenians by the Treaty of Serves—Bitlis, Mush, and Van. The Turkish delegation categorically refused to accept the Soviet proposal. The Armenian side refused also because it considered the Soviet proposal as a compromise to the overarching goal of bringing the whole of western Armenia under Armenian jurisdiction. Another stumbling block was the status of the Nakhichevan, Karabakh, and Zangerzur regions disputed by Armenia and Azerbaijan and considered to be part of the historical Armenia. Although keen at securing a treaty with the Armenians, the Moscow government also prioritized its relations with the Azerbaijani Revolutionary Committee and its popular chairman Nariman Narimanov. Turkish representatives in Baku and the Azerbaijani Bolsheviks joined their efforts in pressuring Moscow to assign Nakhichevan to Azerbaijan, given its crucial strategic importance as a gateway between Turkey and Azerbaijan. In order to create a buffer between Baku and Yerevan and, more importantly, to postpone the final resolution of the status for an indefinite amount of time, the Red Army was instructed to move its Eleventh Division into the disputed territories. Despite the Armenian protests, the army remained there until the capitulation of the Dashnak government in December 1920. It could be argued that the Bolshevik government did not envision any other scenario but a final Sovietization of Armenia; all the while its actions were simply buying time for such an eventuality. As R. Hovannisian suggests, the proceedings of the First Congress of the Peoples of the East held in Baku in September 1920 clearly indicated

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that neither “Russia or the Comintern was willing to tolerate the permanent existence of a non-Communist Armenia.”10 It is against this background that the Turkish offensive against Armenia began in September 1920. Encouraged by its treaty with RSFSR, and confident in Russian “neutrality” and Lenin’s undeclared objectives, Attaturk ordered the invasion that “became the trenchant Turkish response to the Treaty of Serves and to the shaping of a united, independent Armenian state.”11 The ultimate goal was to reestablish the boundaries drawn by the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk, which included recapturing the territories acquired by the Russian Empire in 1878. As expected, neither the Bolsheviks nor the Georgians interfered. Armenia was left to bleed alone.12 The offensive resulted in the capture of the entire province of Kars along with a Turkish advance to Alexandropol. After long debates in the parliament, the Armenians decided to enter into negotiations with Turkey, viewing it as the only opportunity to secure Armenia’s independence without relying on Russia as the last resort. An article in the government Haradj newspaper reasoned, “Our historic enemy, Turkey, can accept our independent existence only when we are ready once and for all to break with Russia.”13 On December 2, 1920, the representatives of the Armenian government in Alexandropol accepted the peace terms forced upon them by Ankara. Accordingly, Turkey would keep all the western Armenian provinces including the annexed Kars and Ardahan in accordance with the former Brest-Litovsk treaty. The conditions of capitulation, which the Turkish side imposed through an ultimatum, were naturally extremely harsh and uncompromising. The feeling among the political elite at the time was that Attaturk’s government could virtually annex the entire country without any outside intervention. Cutting ties from Russia did not seem a viable option either since it seemed that Moscow was the only actor capable of stopping the Turkish advance by negotiating a settlement. It became increasingly clear to the Armenian government that Russian mediation could only be assured if Armenia were to be Sovietized. To be able to counterbalance Turkish demands with a formidable force, Armenians reluctantly allowed, at the insistence of Moscow, for the Red Army to occupy Armenia. On December 3, 1920, Turkey and Armenia signed the humiliating Treaty of Alexandropol.14 The Treaty of Moscow signed between the Soviet Russia and Turkey in March 1921 sealed the fate of the Armenian republic by freezing the boundaries between the two regional powers without any Armenian input. Turkey received all the territories envisioned by the Treaty of Alexandropol. Moreover, with the efforts of Turkish diplomacy, the region of Nakhichevan was made into an autonomous region within

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the Soviet Azerbaijan with the provision that its status cannot be revised without Turkish consent. Indeed, the territorial delimitation of the Transcaucasus was certainly undertaken with Turkey’s wishes and interests in mind. Turkey’s clear-cut guarantor status over Nakhchevan is the primary example of this; moreover the Turkish factor was definitely a most important factor in the Soviet decision regarding Nagorno-Karabakh’s appurtenance to Azerbaijan.15

It is not surprising then that Armenia’s relationship with a country that played such an unfortunate and crucial role in its post-Soviet geopolitical predicament came to the very forefront of the process of formulating the place of “self ” in the new world. This process took place on two levels simultaneously: through active engagement with history whether through validating or rejecting it and through appropriating and reacting to contemporary geopolitical realities.

1991–1998: The Chimera of “Pragmatism” Further complicating Armenian-Turkish relations is the vocal involvement of both Turkish and Armenian society in addressing the nature and content of that relationship. Of all Armenia’s relations with other states, the one that is bound to engender the greatest internal debate is policy toward Turkey. To a considerable extent the same is true inside Turkish society. Therefore, internal pressures on the two governments in formulating bilateral policies are sufficiently high as to constrain both governments in ways that neither may want. Given the historical background to that relationship, it would seem that these constraints would be stronger in Armenia. The fact of the matter appears just the opposite. Armenia’s government embarked on a series of initiatives designed to build confidence in Turkish foreign policy circles about Armenia’s long-term goals. It has had little effect. On the contrary, in the view of the continuing reluctance of Turkey to normalize relations, the effort has only made the Armenian government seem much too conciliatory with a historical antagonist.16

The dynamic and fluent nature of historical narratives is particularly evident at the times of strong national movements and upheavals as what happened in Armenia between 1988 and 1991. At the early stages of the Nagorno-Karabakh movement, the young energetic elite led by the Karabakh committee came to symbolize the rebirth of the Armenian national spirit and a final break toward the establishment of independence. Levon Ter-Petrosyan and his colleagues were in a sense both the “elite of rupture” and the “elite of consolidation,” according to the distinction made

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by Irmina Matonyte. As the elite of rupture, PANM (Pan-Armenian National Movement) carried the flag of leading a successful nationalist movement with clearly identified goals of self-determination for NagornoKarabakh, and subsequently, Armenia’s independence from the Soviet Union. It was at the forefront of overthrowing the communist rule and installing democracy. PANM operated in a unique environment “marked by a dominance of symbolic politics and communitarian interests, and vast elite autonomy.”17 As the elite of consolidation, on the other hand, the movement—institutionalized as the ruling party of the Armenian republic from 1991 onward—faced the pressing need of formulating political ideology capable of helping Armenia navigate in the new regional environment and developing economic and social policies to alleviate deep domestic crisis, caused by transition and exacerbated by the war. It is at this critical juncture that the acute controversy in combining these two historical roles came to the fore particularly in the sphere of Armenia’s policy toward Turkey. As evident from its name, the PANM claimed to be an all-Armenian movement, building bridges across time and space and rooted in a unified national history. It is the grounding of the Nagorno-Karabakh issue within the larger historical narrative and evocation of the past, which resonated across all social strata and various Armenian communities around the world, that made the movement so remarkably successful. Yet ironically, once the larger purpose of consolidation was achieved, history became, in the new Armenian leadership’s eyes, an obstacle to the successful realization of the ultimate aspiration of the Armenian nation, statehood ( petakanutyun). This was ultimately seen as an intrinsic part of the natio nal identity and defined as an inalienable right of the Armenian nation. For the new elite, the national ideology rooted in a recycling of the past did not possess the potency to ensure the state’s survival. It would be even more dangerous, if the political thinking among the new generation of Armenians were to repeat the traditional mistake of idealizing friends such as the Russians while demonizing the traditional Turkish foe. The members of the PANM fervently opposed the perpetual “reliving” of the past tragedies that held the national spirit hostage and dramatically narrowed Armenia’s choices. Gerard Libaridian, the national security adviser to President Ter-Petrosyan, reflects on a pressing need to redefine Armenia’s national interest: For too long the fear of neighbors has been the most dominant factor in determining the answer to the question of Armenian independence. Endangered by a series of massacres and a genocide in the twentieth

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century, strengthened by the imagery of the brutal Turk, nurtured by the surviving specter of Pan-Turkism, internalized as the psychology of the victim and the colonized, manipulated by Armenia’s self-appointed protectors that fear has, in fact, distorted the perception of national interests, and has been confused with strategic thinking.18

Thus, strategic thinking was placed in a dichotomous relationship with the collective memory, realism juxtaposed to emotion, and pragmatism to national ambition. As David Shahnazaryan, the member of the executive committee of the PANM noted: “The movement took upon itself an arduous task of reorienting Armenian politics towards ‘reality.’”19 A clear break from history—even with the most recent one—became the vanguard of this new thinking. To accomplish this break, the elite began to further a new kind of identity, which was demarcated around the civic nature of the new state. The state was proclaimed ahistorical, its goal—primarily oriented toward survival, and its location—both temporal and spatial—was conceived as neither good nor bad. The country’s geography, which has haunted the nation for centuries, culminating in the greatest trauma, was being re-“articulated” to appear as an advantage and not a curse: “In this view, it is possible to semiotically reverse this relationship between location and fate to Armenia’s advantage, ‘changing a “minus” sign into a “plus.”’”20 This theme became a locus point of a debate among a group of Armenian intellectuals working on the formulation of a new national ideology and was subsequently appropriated as the official discourse. To reverse the relationship between history and geography, the elite had to challenge the concept of the historical homeland by confining it to the past and by juxtaposing it to the concept of the territorial nation-state: The elite project, articulating the concept of state with the ideas of well-demarcated geographical territory and state border, led to two consequences: it directly challenged the myth of historical homeland, articulated by the Diaspora and the majority of local parties, and brought to the re-structurization of the constitutive outside. In the elite project, the territories of state and historical homeland had different time structures, and what was “the past” was a different country. Territorial boundaries of historical homeland serve only as political frontiers of the narrative past; they do not act for present and do not ascribe national identity with uniformity of political, legal or economic identity. In contrary, the territorial boundaries of state do ascribe since the identity of a citizen is senseless without such uniformity.21

The key to this radical redefinition of the national interest lies with rethinking Armenia’s relationship with the other or the “constitutive

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outside,” Turkey. Reconfiguring Armenian-Turkish relations was placed at the heart of Ter-Petrosyan’s domestic success. That which would have been unthinkable a few years ago—relations with Turkey—now can be contemplated because of the popular mandate which the government enjoys. Underlying these strategic considerations is a mandatory change in Armenians’ political self-definition. Just as it is necessary to free oneself from the psychology of the victim, Armenians must see themselves—and by extension, their neighbors—as citizens of nation states aiming at social and economic development rather than representatives of ideologies, religions, and empires.22

The main official document formulating the new state’s position on relations with Turkey was Armenia’s Declaration of Independence published in 1991. The declaration rejected the 1921 Soviet-Turkish Treaty and contained a clause on the recognition of the Armenian genocide, achieved after intense debates within various political forces: “The Republic of Armenia stands in support of the task of achieving international recognition of the Genocide of 1915 in Ottoman Turkey and Western Armenia.”23 This statement was a result of a compromise between the PANM leadership, which wanted to exclude the mentioning of the genocide from the document and other forces such as Paruyr Hairikyan’s Self-Determination Union and the ARF that wished to pursue the “territorial reparations” option. The Self-Determination Union claimed Nakhichevan region as one of the territories severed by Turkey from Armenia.24 It was indeed peculiar to observe such contentions over an issue that has been a foundational element of modern Armenian national identity since 1915. Ter-Petrosyan along with his colleagues such as Ktrich Sardaryan and Vazgen Manunkyan challenged the “idealist” camp by reasoning that Armenians, like most other nations, are wasting time waiting for favors from anybody, and that appeals to historical justice and hope that strong states will help recover lost territories from Turkey are futile.25

This worldview remained embedded in the administration’s subsequent decisions with regards to Turkey until Ter-Petrosyan’s departure from the political scene. While the issue of the genocide was at the source of earlier preliminary discussions on national policy toward Turkey, it was gradually and consistently removed in the process of policy formulation. As Gerard Libaridian recollects, When the ANM won the contest for leadership in the Armenian SSR Supreme Soviet and the USSR collapsed, it had a clear policy towards

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Turkey: establishment of diplomatic relations and normalization of relations at the earliest possible date, without any preconditions. Historical claims were not the basis of relations between the two neighbors. Obviously policy was not due to a lack of knowledge of history within the ANM. Levon Ter-Petrosyan was a historian, as were some of his close collaborators and advisers. The difference with the position of other historians was not the absence of an appreciation of the significance of the Genocide; rather it was how to interpret that event, how to analyze the policies and strategies of the First Republic; how to view the current state of the world and regional affairs, and, above all, how to imagine the future.26

Soul-searching was cast aside for the time being. It was a time of decisive political moves. While for the new Armenian leadership a necessity to establish a dialogue with Turkey seemed fairly obvious, Turkish policymakers vacillated between the initial “euphoria” over the discovery of a vast Turkic-speaking space with its potential repercussions for expanding outside influence and the constraints posed by the well-tested Kemalist doctrine of minimal intervention abroad. The relationship with Azerbaijan presented a particular opportunity because of its geographic proximity, ethnic affinity, and long-standing tradition of Pan-Turkic intellectual links with Turkey at the turn of the century. This was contributed by the fact that many leaders and members of the Young Turk movement moved to Baku after 1918, serving as a communication bridge between Mustafa Kemal and Moscow government during the Turkish-Soviet negotiations. At the same time, the active support of Azerbaijan would mean becoming a third party to the conflict. This could, however, in turn, potentially be viewed, as constituting a major breach of the Kemalist doctrine while serving as a destabilizing factor in the region. Consequently, the domestic debate over the Turkish role in the region, and by association, in the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict touched the nerve of Turkey’s political self-definition and challenged the foundations of its self-image. In this exuberant atmosphere slogans like “Turkish world from the Adriatic to the China Sea” were heard from such mouths as that of the president of the Republic. Demands started to rise especially from the ranks of racist and/or religious right-wing circles for military intervention to the Nagorno-Karabakh turmoil in Azerbaijan … The authors of these demands (which were by no means restricted to the right-wing circles mentioned above) not only required an abandonment of the status quo policy on the basis of concrete and isolated cases, but also attacked the very philosophy of this policy. According to them, Turkey faced a great opportunity and it could no longer be content with what it had.27

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Turgut Ozal’s “new activism” in foreign affairs as demonstrated by Turkey’s participation in the Desert Storm strove to inject Turkish foreign policy discourse with more vigor and assertiveness vis-à-vis its immediate neighborhood. The Turkish Foreign Ministry and Prime Minister Demirel, on the other hand, displayed more moderation conditioned by serious outside constraints such as Ankara’s relations with the Western alliance. These largely centered around the issues of U.S. military aid and of Turkey’s accession to the membership in the European Union (EU). Two other significant factors were Russia’s presence in the Caucasus and Turkish economic interest in maintaining reasonable relations with its historical rival. All these considerations injected a degree of pragmatism and restraint into the Turkish policy toward the region and challenged the over exuberance of some domestic circles.28 Adding to the uncertainty surrounding the end of the Soviet Union was the deliberation over possible policies toward Armenia. Although Ankara was among the first countries to recognize Armenia’s independence in December 1991, it refused to establish diplomatic relations with Yerevan insisting that the latter put aside the issues of the genocide and of territorial demands. This position was partly triggered by the debates in the Armenian parliament challenging the validity of the infamous Moscow and Kars treaties, which drew the present Turkish-Armenian border.29 Although the treaties were not formally abrogated, the borders between the two countries were not reaffirmed through an official declaration anticipated by Turkey, thus fueling suspicions about Armenian revisionism. Yerevan, nonetheless, insisted that the very fact of its proposal to establish diplomatic relations with Ankara constituted a de facto recognition of Turkey’s territorial integrity and demonstrated lack of any preconditions.30 In 2000, a retired Turkish diplomat in his interview to Milliyet described Gerard Libaridian’s visit to Turkey on a special mission to request economic assistance, during which the Armenian adviser alluded to putting aside the genocide issue in order to secure wheat supplies to Armenia.31 As the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict became increasingly militarized in the spring of 1992, Ankara found itself struggling to find a middle ground between an open support of Azerbaijan and a desired policy of balance. Domestically, Demirel was subjected to severe criticism for “not taking a hard enough stand vis-à-vis the Armenians’ actions in Azerbaijan.”32 Visiting Washington in February, Demirel urged the West not to take sides to avoid “another Middle East.”33 The prime minister was critical of the domestic pressure to push the government into a military confrontation with Armenia. It was extremely difficult to resist the ever more aggressive public outcries: “Armenians are killing

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Turks with weapons from the West. Turkey, as a nation and a government, should not be indifferent to this.”34 The establishment had to respond. During his address in the Turkish parliament, Turkish foreign minister Hikmet Cetin announced that his country “in solidarity with brotherly Azerbaijan will never permit any changes in the Azeri enclave of Nagorno-Karabakh’s judicial status.”35 He added, “Armenia will be responsible for the consequences of its aggression.” In the beginning of March, Ankara announced that it would suspend humanitarian flights to Armenia flying through its territory, including U.S. military aircrafts.36 Simultaneously, Demirel was searching for diplomatic channels to exert pressure on Armenia. He endorsed the joint CSCE (Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe) declaration calling on both sides to preserve each other’s territorial integrity. However, the opposition and the president pressed for the military option. Ozal specifically urged for military intervention in Nakhichevan, justifying it by the 1921 Moscow treaty, while the leader of the Motherland Party Mesut Yelmaz accused the government of following a sheepish policy.37 In September 1992, the Armenian media circulated unconfirmed news about the decision by the Turkish army to supply the Nakhichevan government with military help. The Armenian administration confirmed these reports, but did not ascertain their truthfulness.38 In June 1992, Demirel and Ter-Petrosyan officially met for the first time in Rio de Janeiro, within the framework of the World Economic Forum. The meeting was reportedly cordial, to an extent that Demirel conversed with the Armenian president with a fatherly poise. Turkish Hurriyet cites Demirel’s words: I am speaking with you not as a Prime Minister with President. Let us put back all formalities. You will not resolve anything through war. After 1000 years you have been given an opportunity of creating independent Armenia. But you will not be able to establish this state on the basis of vengeance, hatred and war. Your neighbors are Azerbaijan and Turkey. Unless you establish friendly relations with us and withdraw your military units from the territory of Azerbaijan, you will be placed in a difficult situation … Dear Mr. Ter-Petrosyan, I address you in such an informal way because I want establishment of peace. I have been engaged in diplomacy and politics for many years. Armenia should not be regulated by war, you should mobilize all efforts to be masters of the situation yourselves.39

This meeting seemed to have ascertained Ter-Petrosyan’s determination to resolve contradictions with Turkey. Two weeks after the meeting in Rio,

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Levon Ter-Petrosyan ordered to oust the leader of ARF Hrair Marukhyan in Armenia. He believed that the Dashnak presence in Armenia would jeopardize his efforts to establish a dialogue with an old foe, a policy he considered to be radically different from the Dashnak government of the first republic and more prudent: As a scientist, politician and President of the Republic endowed with the people’s mandate, I am confident that war will not have any positive consequences for Armenia. The result will be the same as in 1920 when Armenia was a state with a territory of 60 thousand square kilometers. At that moment, there was a serious possibility to create and preserve independent statehood on that territory. But only if the authorities conducted flexible policies and did not deceive themselves with false assertions in the documents like Sevres Treaty, if they did not trust USA, England, France but attempted to solve all their problems directly with Turkey. Instead, they were carried away by unrealistic ideas and lost half of Armenia since at that time Armenia was at war with three neighbors: Azerbaijan, Turkey and even Georgia—our traditional friend and ally.40

Levon Ter-Petrosyan’s circle was hopeful about the positive outcome of continuing negotiations. As Libaridian recalls, With the increasing realization by Turkish officials that Armenia’s position was not opportunistic or based on isolated thinking, goodwill prevailed on both sides.41

Exchanges between Armenia and Turkey continued throughout 1992 and 1993, including a meeting between Ter-Petrosyan and Cetin in New York. The Foreign Ministry went on insisting on the absence of territorial claims, reportedly even including a clause about Armenia’s renunciation of territorial claims along with the repudiation of efforts to recognize the genocide.42 Ter-Petrosyan assured Ankara that Dashnak military detachments will be unable to have any influence in Karabagh. Our independent Republic is only a year old. We aspire to get rid of the previous rotten order and establish a new one. My people do not heed similar thoughtless voices. Nobody will be able to impede our efforts in establishing at least normal relations with Turkey.43

The “thoughtless voices” of Dashnaktsutyun and of the first foreign minister Raffi Hovannisian, a diasporan Armenian, were creating much disarray in Ter-Petrosyan’s grand designs. The rift between the president and the foreign minister became inevitable in September 1992. During

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his trip to Istanbul, for a special session of the Council of Europe, Hovannisian drew an analogy between Turkish positions on NagornoKarabakh and the Cyprus issue. In October, the president asked for Hovannisian’s resignation.44 For the observers, Hovannisian’s departure was not by any means an unexpected development as the foreign minister had repeatedly challenged Ter-Petrosyan’s position on NagornoKarabakh and Turkey. While the president was reluctant to recognize Nagorno-Karabakh’s independence, Hovannisian firmly believed in the necessity to formally recognize the breakaway republic to create a precedent for other countries to follow the suit. Similar contradictions resurfaced in the area of Armenian-Turkish relations. Hovannisian believed that the policy of reconciliation was based on false assumptions that Turkey was ready for a dialogue; moreover, it did not accomplish what the president and his circle purported to achieve—Armenia’s security and economic stabilization. In this context, the Istanbul speech that was given without Ter-Petrosyan’s consent was particularly seen as a challenge to the president’s rationale, at the time when Yerevan had requested wheat deliveries from Turkey. The content of the speech was obviously not known to the president, who otherwise “would not have let [Hovannisian] go to Istanbul.”45 Ter-Petrosyan’s staff did not even attempt to conceal the administration’s displeasure with the foreign minister’s remarks. Rouben Shugarian, the future Armenian ambassador to the United States and then the president’s spokesman, described the speech as “an emotional first,” while presidential adviser Vahan Papazian stated that Hovannisian’s position has “no connection to Armenia’s foreign policy.”46 Hovannisian’s departure took with it the last elements of discord within the Armenian elite around Turkey policy. The new foreign minister Papazian was the president’s man and the foreign policy decision-making was now firmly monopolized by Ter-Petrosyan’s circle. Raffi Hovannisian’s resignation also signaled the growing rift between wide circles in the diaspora and the local elite, which, president’s formally friendly and laudatory rhetoric notwithstanding was inevitable. Looking at the president’s policies during that period, an Armenian analyst reflects: According to experts, such a breakthrough was unprecedented in world history: not a single country immediately during the first year of its independence had so actively aspired to development of friendly relations and cooperation with the state that had eliminated a good half of the nation, living on its own historical territory, had plunged it in demographic catastrophe and deprived it of the largest portion of its territory. With the state

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not recognizing the fact of Genocide and taking a biased, close to cynicism position in the settlement of already another—Karabagh conflict. The phenomenon was considered to be unprecedented also because the position of official Yerevan did not proceed from the genesis of the Third Republic resting exclusively on national values. And what is most important—the establishment of diplomatic relations with the legal successor of the Ottoman Empire—the Turkish Republic—ran contrary to the ideology of the people waging national-liberating struggle and firmly enduring the hardships and privations of military resistance and blockade.47

President’s efforts at accelerating the establishment of relations with Turkey against all odds, even against the domestic discontent, were presented in the light of its potential economic benefit at the time of severe crisis. He and his closest circle took particular pride in obtaining a delivery of a hundred thousand tones of wheat from Turkey before it could be reimbursed through EU loan to Armenia. They also pointed to Ankara’s permission to use the railway link between Kars and Gyumri to transport the wheat in spite of its own embargo. This fixation with portraying Turkey as a goodwilled neighbor even drove Gerard Libaridian to commend Turkey for its assistance to Armenia, for “life would have been seriously disrupted had Turkey not allowed that gradual transfer, sometimes even advancing wheat from its storages.”48 It was a curious conclusion considering that it was Turkish-Azerbaijani concerted effort to inflict economic hardship on Armenia that caused the wheat supply crisis to begin with. Another cited example of administration’s success was the Turkish proposal to sell electricity to Armenia in the amount of 300 million kilowatts per year, which, if enacted, would have rendered the Azerbaijani fuel blockade of Armenia ineffective.49 Not surprisingly, the deal was cancelled under the Azerbaijani pressure in November 1992. Throughout this period it became evident that the Nagorno-Karabakh issue was more of a liability than an advantage for Turkey. Its pursuit of regional predominance was met by Ter-Petrosyan’s insistence on improving relations. It was through Ankara’s initiative that Armenia got an invitation to participate at the founding session of the BSEC, during which Demirel and Ter-Petrosyan met for the first time. Turkish perspective on Armenia’s membership reflected the generally optimistic mood of the early 1990s when the conflicts were still new and economic cooperation was considered to be a panacea to resolving them. [I]n the mind of the BSEC’s founders, economic cooperation was considered as the prime aim of the newly established regional initiative. At the same time this key goal was recognized also as a means for enhancing the security situation in the Black Sea area. In this context, security was therefore addressed

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indirectly in the sense that regional economic cooperation can avert or settle conflicts, while there was by no means mention to fighting against an actual threat.50

Nevertheless, the economic incentive was not sufficient as proven during the Demirel–Ter-Petrosyan meeting in Istanbul. Nagorno-Karabakh inevitably became the principal issue on the agenda of the discussion making it impossible to proceed in other directions. The Turkish side demanded the Armenian withdrawal from Shushi and Lachin. The Armenian delegation, on the other hand, insisted on the OSCE sanctioned resolution of which Turkey would be part.51 These pitfalls debunked president’s rationalization of pursuing this thorny path of “normalization” free of historical analogies and rooted in a purely economic necessity of sustaining Armenia’s economic lifeline. History and historical sentiment was seen as irrelevant in the context of an enormous transformation that Armenia and the entire region were going through. The following interview by Ter-Petrosyan given to the Armenian International Magazine is deeply revealing of the discourse that prevailed among the leadership of Armenia in the early to mid-1990s. Do not forget that I am a historian. And as such, after having been involved in real politics for six years, I can easily announce that historiography is a fake science. However, it is something that a historian cannot possibly understand until he himself participates in the process of the making of history. I am a daily observer of this process. Something happens here, around this desk, and its interpretations outside assume some extraordinary interpretations. Today I look at the history that I used to know and that everyone was made to read, and I realize that it was nothing. All of our great and complex political actions within Armenia and Karabakh, and towards Russia, Turkey and the United States very often depend on very simple realities: how many tones of grain, how many bullets, and how much fuel for our tanks there is. This is the kind of information that is not normally recorded by historiography, and I can tell you that my decisions, the most crucial decisions depend on those realities. Nobody knows it and nobody will.52

Such pure pragmatism and utilitarianism was unseen in the Armenian public discourse. It was undisguised and was being articulated as a new norm stripped of its own historical context. Libaridian’s reflections are symptomatic in this regard: Whatever degree of progress made in this direction, there is no doubt that at the end, the economic dimension is the one affecting immediately and

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on a daily basis almost every aspect of the lives of Armenians—as individuals, as families, as a society. Independence and democracy, national visions and international aspirations, spiritual yearnings and cultural achievements, traditional ties and moral choices would flounder when up against the rock of the reality: the poverty in which the majority of citizens had sunk with the collapse of a bankrupt economy.53

Unfortunately for the president and his circle, the reality on the ground was proving otherwise. Year 1993 came to be known as a year of crisis between the two countries, “defined by Turkey’s insistence on a linkage between the Karabakh conflict and the establishment of diplomatic relations.”54 In April 1993, Turkey joined Azerbaijan in blockading the Armenian border in response to the successful Armenian offensive in the Kelbajar district. Ankara announced that in solidarity with Azerbaijan it bans the transit of humanitarian and other aid to Armenia. In addition to its diplomatic pressure on Armenia, Ankara ordered the positioning of its troops along the Turkish-Armenian border. The regional situation following the Kelbajar offensive was spinning out of control. Turkish prime minister Tansu Ciller threatened Armenia with military measures if Armenians did not halt military campaign in Nagorno-Karabakh, the main casus belli being an Armenian offensive into Nakhichevan. The situation surrounding the Nakhichevan region was possibly the most telling of the extent the conflict was perceived as threatening to the neighboring states’ security. According to the Russian Nezavisimaya Gazeta, the real reason behind Turkish hysteria surrounding Nakhichevan was not only the Armenian threat, but also possible confrontation with Iran, which, in response to the Armenian offensive, had positioned its troops along the Nakhichevani border.55 The Turkish government spokesman, Yildirim Aktuna, announced that the Iranian build-up was “‘approaching a dimension which would seriously threaten regional peace’” and the increase of Turkish military presence on the border was meant to diffuse the tension.56 The situation was discussed between Cetin and the Iranian foreign minister Ali Akbar Velayati.57 The dispatch of the troops followed an overnight meeting between Tansu Ciller, members of the cabinet, and key military officials over the Iranian build up. The official statement issued after the cabinet meeting read that the government had called on Armenia to immediately and unconditionally withdraw its units from the Azerbaijani territory. Simultaneously, Turkey exerted diplomatic pressure on Armenia engaging in what the Turkish press referred to as “diplomatic attack.” The Turkish prime minister placed phone calls to Clinton, Mitterrand, and the Italian Chair of the Minsk Group.58

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Armenian belligerence was tied to the Kurdish insurgency, mainly through alleging that the Armenia harbored Kurdish terrorist camps on its territory. A renowned diasporan Armenian Monte Melkonian, killed in Nagorno-Karabakh in the spring of 1993, was referred to by the Turkish press as a terrorist who acquired his military experience from fighting side by side with the Iranian Kurds.59 In November 1993, a Turkish military official announced “we are ready to shell Armenia if Armenia threatens Turkey.”60 This escalation unleashed the historically rooted Turkophobia. Based on the data received from its Information and Analysis Center, the Armenian Bureau of the ARF concluded that the Turkish military forces were preparing to shell Armenia in the middle of December in retaliation for the Armenian support of the PKK (Partiya Karkeren Kurdistan). The shelling would be conducted through the territory of Nakhichevan and would include such crucial targets as the Metsamor nuclear power station.61 Interestingly, this information is confirmed by the memoirs of the then Greek ambassador to Armenia Leonidas T. Chrystanthopoulos. The ambassador recollects October 1993 when the Armenian leadership received various intelligence reports indicating that Turkey was carefully watching the domestic turmoil in Russia to use the opportunity to attack Armenia. As Levon Ter-Petrosyan informed the ambassador, Armenian armed forces were placed on a full alert in anticipation of the possible Turkish strike.62 All reports indicate that in the fall of 1993, among the Armenian leadership there was a pervasive sense of an impending threat of a Turkish military attack against Armenia. Turkish build up along the Nakhichevan’s border was not seen simply as saber rattling in response to the Armenian actions, but was construe as an indication of an impending attack. This is an important point because this prevailing perception contributed to the all-encompassing feeling of being under siege from both sides of the border akin to 1920. This time, however, Russia served as a serious deterrent with its warning that Turkish intervention could lead to “the third world war.” Another important consideration on the part of the Turkish military establishment was a reluctance to give Armenians moral advantage that the offensive would inevitably bring about. As early as March 1993, Demirel had warned his domestic opponents that Turkish intervention on Azerbaijan’s side could put the entire international community behind Armenia.63 The events of the summer of 1993 seemed to have formed a more realistic understanding of the situation among the Armenian administration. Vahan Papazian expressed this pessimism after yet another unsuccessful meeting with his Turkish counterpart.

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I am convinced that Armenia has done everything possible to normalize relations with Turkey. Turkey failed to respond to our goodwill gestures. It is impossible to consider establishing a positive dialogue with Turkey before the Karabakh problem is resolved or at least a durable cease-fire agreement is reached with Azerbaijan. We are trying to diffuse antiTurkish sentiments but the Turkish Government is not responding in kind. It is impossible to recall how many reports Turkish newspapers have published against Armenia. A summit between Armenia and Turkey is not under consideration at this time.64

However, the leadership continued to seek different avenues to speak to the other side. A few days after this statement was made, Ter-Petrosyan held a phone conversation with Suleiman Demirel, during which he pointed out to the negative consequences the concentration of Turkish troops along the border was having on the overall security in the region. The conversation did little to alleviate the tension, however. The administration used a different channel, the Turkish ambassador to Russia Ayhan Kamel with whom the Ter-Petrosyan met in Moscow. During the meeting the ambassador insisted on the linkage between normalization and the conflict and pointed out the public outcry in Turkey in reaction to the Armenian actions in Nagorno-Karabakh as a major impediment to the dialogue.65 The Turkish foreign minister Mumtaz Soysal, in a meeting with the Armenian president in New York, articulated these very same demands. Soysal tied the relationship to Armenia’s step toward settling with Azerbaijan on the Nagorno-Karabakh issue, in which case, Turkey could even assist Armenia economically. It was impossible for the president to give any guarantees to Turkey considering that the actions of the Armenian forces in Nagorno-Karabakh were not under his control; the Karabakh forces were acting independently by cultivating ties with Russia and relying on strong support both in Armenia and its diaspora. The Armenian leadership could not get involved in Nagorno-Karabakh, which could potentially lead to the outright declaration of war with Azerbaijan. There was also the issue of the domestic opposition that an attempt to pacify the forces would galvanize. The Turkish precondition regarding the conflict was the worst possible scenario for Ter-Petrosyan because his administration was completely paralyzed in this regard. Moreover, it became evident that even the reopening of the communication and transportation lines with Azerbaijan and Turkey would not be sufficient as Armenia would be required to pay a transit fee for the supply of oil and gas.66 Ter-Petrosyan’s unpopularity as a result of his economic policies of rapid privatization and liberalization was now deepening because

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of the political persecution of his opponents. In December 1994, the president for the first time openly targeted a major opposition party by issuing a decree on the temporary suspension of the activity of the ARF in Armenia. The Dashnaktsutyun bureau in Armenia was accused of the establishment of the secret intelligence service in Armenia in the form of organization known as Dro, engagement in unlawful economic activities, and participation in drug trafficking and racketeering.67 This measure set him onto a direct collision course with the nationalist forces in Armenia and its diaspora were ARF was particularly influential. Fueling antiestablishment sentiments were claims circulated by the Turkish media that the closure of the ARF was undertaken to please Ankara and demonstrate Yerevan’s goodwill at the time when little could be done in the direction of Nagorno-Karabakh conflict.68 Moreover, Turkish Daily News published an article about an alleged meeting between the leader of an ultranationalist party MHP (Nationalist Movement Party) Arpaslan Turkes and the Armenian president in Paris that had allegedly taken place earlier that year. Turks had even been reportedly chosen by the Armenian government to lobby on its behalf in the BakuCeyhan deal. Explaining the reasons behind this unexpected choice, the article pointed to the role that the MHP played a few years ago: Back then, the Turkish government decided to send 100,000 tons of wheat flour to Yerevan. But the trains carrying the flour were stopped in Erzerum (an ultranationalist MHP stronghold). It was only after Turkes gave his direct orders to let the trains go that the MHP militants allowed the flour to reach Yerevan. (Armenian President Levon) Ter-Petrosyan did not forget the favor. That’s why they can trust Turkes now.69

Another Turkish newspaper Milliyet echoed the allegations that Armenia’s attempts to establish relations with Ankara have to do with Yerevan’s need to secure its participation in nascent Caspian oil deals. Hence, the closure of the ARF seemed to be a logical step toward gaining tacit Turkish support. The article claims that during the meeting, Turkes also handed over to Levon Der Bedrosian a letter from the Turkish government. That letter said that if the Armenians continue to seize and plunder Azeri territories, Turkey would further tighten the blockade of Armenia and the Armenian people would find themselves facing starvation. Levon Der Bedrosian, in turn, replied that his government was in favor of giving back the territories seized, but that the opposition pursued independently by the Dashnak party created certain difficulties. Otherwise, he and his partisans wish for peace and reconciliation.70

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Considering Ter-Petrosyan’s previous dealings with Turkey, the truthfulness of these allegations was not doubted by many of the president’s opponents who also believed in the existing connection between Turkish demands and president’s move on Dro.71 The reporting on the Turkish-Armenian “deal” in Turkish press was so widespread, that during a conference on “Security, Stability, Prosperity, and Independence in Northern Caucasus” held in Istanbul in February 23–25, 1995, Libaridian reportedly avoided interacting with the Turkish press.72 In Yerevan, the foreign ministry urgently issued a statement denying the allegations: “information published in the Turkish press on the behalf of the Armenian Republic authorities is contrived and only people with a sick imagination can believe it.”73 Whether the allegations about the secret talks between Armenia and Turkey were accurate cannot be ascertained. However, one can claim with a certain degree of confidence that in the conditions of absence of any prospect for any diplomatic breakthrough, the Armenian leadership was pressed with time, while realizing full well the potential of oil pipeline projects for Armenia. The allegations also revealed a deep schism between the public perceptions and the policies set forth by top Armenian officials. The following article from Novoe Vremya (Yerevan) beautifully conveys the most critical questions underlying the domestic discussion of Armenian-Turkish. It is brought here in full: The Turkish press has by its sudden loquacity put the Armenian authorities in a tricky position. To refute the assertions concerning unofficial backstage negotiations would be to offend the Turkish side or, perhaps, afford it a pretext for even more candid memoirs. To remain silent would be to express agreement and thereby afford grounds for new critical articles both in the country and outside. It is for this reason, most likely, that the “refutation” concocted in the spirit of the unlamented “TASS statements” was born. Without going into the heart of the matter, the material of the Turkish press is called “ravings”, which only people with a “sick imagination” could believe … Terms characteristic more of medicine than policy were employed also. That is, even in their “refutation” the makers of foreign policy did not risk broaching a single specific issue raised in the Turkish newspapers. And it is unclear what should be believed by people with a sick, and what, with a healthy, imagination. Meanwhile despite the temporizing silence of Yerevan officials, the Turkish news media’s “Armenian campaign” maintains the dynamism and intrinsic logical crux. This, in turn, has galvanized long-standing arguments concerning orientations, patriotism, and cosmopolitanism, and other important matters. And the idea of “spiritual slavery” and certain communist chimeras, which are pushing our sovereign, free country into the embraces of Russia, with its imperial appetites, is, be degree, being pronounced once again.

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It is a serious issue and should hardly, even in polemical fervor, be transferred to the plane of emotions, medical diagnostics even less. There should, however, be some talk about common sense. Some people consider a commitment to Russo-Armenian ties some atavism or even kind of religion, and religion is not, as we know, susceptible of logical comprehension. Meanwhile, if we really leave aside all kinds of emotional and irrational aspects, the gravitation toward Russia in pure form testifies to the practicalness and common sense of our people and an absence of recklessness in their character. What is the basis for this assertion? Theoretically, Armenia could pursue an independent foreign policy, adhering to equal, balanced relations with all countries. But only theoretically. For the practical implementation of this theory it would be essential to have, at a minimum, an outlet to the sea and to be self-sufficient in grain and fuel. But even with these and a number of other just as fantastic conditions, we would still be a small country whose destiny was closely interwoven with the destiny of powerful neighbors or directly dependent on them. And if it seems to some people that in having torn ourselves away from the influence of one power the country would not immediately come under the influence of another, they are profoundly deluded. Under our conditions and in our situation this is impossible. Consequently, we need to have a realistic idea of our possibilities and to attempt to live independently under just these conditions. The old question: Russia or Turkey, East and West, is once more revived here inasmuch as there is as yet no other way. The question sounds even more precise as follows: Where will we acquire more independence—in the sphere of Russian and Turkish influence? Russia, like any other great power, of course, have its particular features, which have to be reckoned with. But one really needs to have a “sick imagination” to accuse Russia of all moral sins, of the genocide in 1915 included. And this odd line in the treasure house of our “political thought” does exist. It remains a fact, however, that “Turkish Armenia” does not exist, and other peoples are fighting for our historic land, as for their motherland, today. “Russian Armenia” as part of the USSR was a prosperous republic with quite a high living standard. This was yesterday, and today? Today Russia and Armenia have common interests in the region. And, essentially, since the acquisition of sovereignty Russia had taken no flagrant steps against Armenia and has not interfered in our internal affairs, displaying a tact and delicacy disproportionate to its importance and strength. This does not mean that this is how things will continue to be. We do not know what will be but we know what we can, in any event, reach agreement—we have immense experience of communication, relations are lively and effective, and we are close in terms of our history, religion, culture, common wars, and common victories and defeats. The sole advantage that Turkey has as a potential ally is a common border. But all other circumstances turn even this advantage into its opposite. Lets us assume that Turkey is not what it was in 1915, although

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there are no miracles. Let us assume that this is a different, Europeanized country, although Europe itself does not think so. And what, would it talk to us as equals? Never. Strictly speaking, we are not even speaking yet, but we are already unequal. We have still not established diplomatic relations. Turkey has impudently slammed in our face the gate to the greater world. But it is already threatening, already dictating and making demands. In addition, it is already interfering in our internal affairs. It is no longer a secret today, I believe, that figuratively speaking it was Turkey that suspended the activity of the ARFD [Armenian Revolutionary Movement] and broke up its press. And what if the little Armenian bird were to catch if only one claw in the Turkish trap? If our economy were to depend on the Turkish economy? Give over Karabakh to the Azerbaijani authorities, having in addition, liberated Shusha and Lachin. Forget 1915 forever. This is already being heard in the gentleman’s set of Turkish claims. In time, of course, Turkey would want Megri to link not so much north and south as west and east. And us to little by little force the Russian troops out of the country and from the border also, of course. To establish control over our army and our arms. And then, perhaps, we should have to damage relations with Greece and Cyprus and, on other hand, establish relations with the island’s Turkish “republic” and so forth. Mental deficiency? Of course. But why should mental deficiency not be expected of a country that has yet to purge itself of the filth of the genocide. It would be good also were it itself to govern, not farm this out to its vassal—Azerbaijan. This is mental deficiency, of course, but merely by virtue of its reckless and impracticable nature. The clumsy attempts to show that it is a question of diplomatic games fool no one. We are talking about a strict choice. And even with very great desire, such a choice cannot hold up. Georgia also, in any form, will return to the zone of the Russian influence. Azerbaijan also, most likely, and also in any form. Nor with us, aside from anything else, would the people permit the outrageous treatment of their history. And the influence of bleating on the minds of the contemporaries should not be exaggerated. Nor will the fact that the Dashnak Party was blocked in good time help. A blunder was made generally with the Dashnaks, of course. A ruling party does not become more attractive merely because on the eve of elections it outlaws a strong rival and shuts down its press. In addition, certain fundamental ideas of the Dashnaktsutyun are by no means the intellectual property of this party but belong to the people, and rootless propaganda workers will not succeed in extirpating them. The time of home canning is past. The people are tired of experiments on themselves. “Political realism” based on mercantilism and biological instincts has already plunged the country into the mire of corruption: It has given rise to the mass exodus of the vigorously capable population. Foreign policy, indulging the passions of petty shopkeepers and cosmopolitans of the new formation, is threatening new upheavals. The ideologists of the

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“new line” more likely have their reasons, their understanding of the people’s interests. But will the people once again allow themselves to be herded by nightsticks into the paradise that has been depicted? A paradise, the keys to the gates of which are kept in the Turkish pocket, what is more.74

The public perception of Turkey continued to be rooted in mistrust; the prevailing attitude was that Turkey did not intend to establish relations with Armenia, and Ter-Petrosyan’s efforts to prove otherwise were humiliating and anathema to the spirit of everything Armenian. The president’s confidence in the validity of the chosen policy toward Turkey was reaffirmed when the possibility for becoming a transit country for Baku-Ceyhan began lurking on the horizon. The U.S. administration exerted a simultaneous pressure on Turkey, Azerbaijan, and Armenia to soften their positions in order to reap off the main dividend of the pipeline, the Nagorno-Karabakh settlement. If Azerbaijan does not seize on the possibility of building its oil pipeline across Armenia, Nagorno-Karabakh and Nakhichevan to the Turkish Mediterranean coast, it will be wasting what is a unique opportunity for ending the conflict over Nagorno-Karabakh on acceptable terms. Once a decision is made to route the pipeline elsewhere, this opportunity will be lost forever. No other possible route can offer such benefits to both Azerbaijan and Turkey. It would be truly a Peace Pipeline.75

Richard Kozlarich, the then U.S. ambassador to Azerbaijan, stated in 1995 that the peaceful process of resolving the Karabakh problem would maintain its urgency as long as the United States’ more urgent problems—to gain control over the Caspian oil resources still existed.76 Ankara did not voice major objections to this option, however as the Turkish energy minister suggested, “[T]he oil pipeline could pass via Armenia, but the final decision belonged to Azerbaijan.”77 Tansu Ciller reportedly sent her longtime aid Yalim Erez, the chairman of the Turkish Union of Chambers and Commodity Exchanges, to Armenia to discuss possible terms for an agreement, but never removed the main precondition, the Armenian withdrawal from the territories.78 The Turkish and Azerbaijani positions were articulated in unison. Baku did not wish to give the Armenians an economic leverage that could tip the military balance even more in favor of Armenia. At that same conference “Security, Stability, Prosperity, and Independence in Northern Caucasus” held in Istanbul in February of 1995, Vafa Gulazade declared his opposition to the Turkish-Armenian rapprochement until the Armenian troops are withdrawn from the Azerbaijani territory: “If Turkey accepts improving relations with Armenia before all Armenian troops pull out from occupied

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Azeri territory, the Azeri people will think that this is a sellout.”79 Heydar Aliyev masterfully used the oil card to prevent Ankara from making concessions to Yerevan by promising to increase Turkish shares in the oil deal despite the fact that the government was under pressure from domestic business circles interested in cross border trade and investment in Armenia. The tone coming out of Ankara in the spring of 1995 seemed to have been more accommodating. When Gerard Libaridian met with Suleiman Demirel, Tansu Ciller, foreign minister Karayalcin, and his predecessor Hikmet Cetin in Istanbul, they did not evoke the usual linkage between the dialogue and the Armenian withdrawal. Instead, the precondition used this time was the Turkish participation in the peace process. However, since nothing came out of this change of attitude, one can conclude that Ankara was simply demonstrating its goodwill to Washington without real attempts to reconcile with Armenia, or it was using the Armenian card to obtain more shares in the oil deal with Azerbaijan.80 The only concession that Ankara made in the name of its continuous reliance on Washington’s support for the Turkish military campaign against the Kurds was lifting of its air embargo against Armenia. Most commentators agree that this step was undertaken under the direct pressure from the Clinton administration.81 According to Turkish Daily News, Tansu Ciller herself had conceded to the opening of the air corridor “in order to please Americans.”82 The issue of the embargo was brought up during the meeting between Clinton and Ciller in Washington D.C., during which the prime minister gave her assurances that the air corridor would be reopened. Clinton in turn pledged his support for Turkish incursions into Northern Iraq to curb the Kurdish insurgency—a move that was severely criticized by the Europeans and by numerous members of the U.S. Congress.83 The domestic reaction in Turkey in response to Chiller’s decision to lift the embargo demonstrated how far the Turkish political mentality was from a dialogue with Armenia. The criticism came from Chiller’s opponents, particularly the leader of the Islamic Welfare Party Necmettin Erbakan. He accused Chiller of bending in the face of Western pressure and demonstrating government’s weakness to the world.84 This reaction was also triggered by the efforts of the Armenian lobby to push through the Humanitarian Aid Corridor Act suspending U.S. aid to countries, which prohibited or restricted delivery of American humanitarian assistance. While the Clinton administration consistently refused to endorse the act and eventually waved the legislation, in Turkey these attempts were perceived as a direct attack.85 In all subsequent negotiations, Turkish Foreign Ministry would openly declare that the opening of the air corridor was to be viewed as a major concession by Ankara and further improvement was solely

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Armenia’ responsibility.86 Rushing to secure Armenia’s participation in the pipeline deal, Libaridian and Ter-Petrosyan offered to sideline the genocide issue as part of a “non-preconditional agreement” but Ankara continued to insist on the Armenian withdrawal from the Azerbaijani territories. This casual treatment of the genocide issue was symptomatic of an open dismissal of the diaspora factor in foreign policy decisions. It was a very cynical position considering that the administration relied on the diaspora in other areas, particularly in the sphere of foreign investment and other forms of aid. The following passages from two articles published in the U.S.-based Armenian Reporter International in 1995 convey the all-national spirit of the polemic on diaspora’s role in Armenian foreign policy triggered by administration’s position on the genocide. Experience has taught the ranking officials that in the world of politics timing is an essential ingredient for success. However, the diaspora is not a government and is not intimately and personally affected on a daily basis by the lack of energy, food, and the necessities to sustain life. Thus, the diaspora is often insensitive to the urgent needs and pressures under which the nation operates. Hence, when the Armenian government selects to momentarily low-key the Genocide, often diaspora Armenians erroneously equate this with surrender. Of course, some naysayers perfectly understand and choose to stress the Genocide at all costs for selfish political reasons. I am not implying that Armenians in the diaspora do not care, but I am reminded by a good native-American friend, that no one know who difficult it is until one tries to run a mile in a moccasin … Armenians worldwide will have better discourse with Turks if economic barriers between the two nations are lowered. It is impossible for two people to communicate effectively when hate obstructs the receptors of the brains. Whether the naysayers on both sides like it or not, some day soon there will be a Turkish flag flying on a Turkish embassy in Yerevan and the Armenian tricolor will be lifted aloft on an Armenian embassy in Ankara. It is not the Armenian diaspora that needs convincing that a Genocide occurred, it is the Turk—that will never be accomplished until the subjective issues such as hate, mistrust, and fear are broached. The existence of official diplomatic relations, symbolized by embassies in the capitals, will help to overcome those barriers to understanding. It will not be easy nor will it happen overnight. However, political and economic relations is an excellent starting point.87

The article triggered the following response: Commentators and community leaders who say that Diasporans have no right to “interfere” in Armenia’s politics and policies but do have the duty

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to support the status quo morally and materially without questioning it, are defining this critical issue inaccurately and are promoting a clearly counterproductive and dangerously divisive approach to relations between Armenia and the Diaspora … The collective history of the Armenian people gives the Armenian diaspora the right and responsibility to contribute to the development of independent Armenia in more ways than is currently allowed by the government. And the collective history of the Armenian peoples gives the Armenian government the right and the responsibility to systematically solicit Diaspora participation and to take contrasting perspectives—through certainly not dictates—into serious consideration.88

Ter-Petrosyan and the PANM were finding themselves politically isolated and extremely unpopular, particularly following the largely fraudulent parliamentary elections. Human Rights Watch Helsinki called year 1995 “the worst year for human rights in Armenia since independence.”89 The first post-Soviet elections in Armenia were marred by the silencing of the opposition and fraud and were characterized as “free but not fair.”90 Ter-Petrosyan’s closure of the ARF, and his arrogant and dismissive stance of the opposition resonated with bitter criticism both inside Armenia and outside with the Diaspora. He was now proclaimed to be no better than his Communist predecessors, if not worse considering that the party at least possessed certain amount of dignity and shame as not to display their arrogance in public. President Der Bedrosian does have certain desirable attributes that deserve recognition, but when it comes to tolerance and openness overwhelming evidence shows that Armenia’s head of state shares the heart and soul of “those Armenian leaders who lean towards arrogance” … Only in sphere of international relations has Der Bedrosian demonstrated a willingness to compromise. In domestic affairs, the facts paint the picture of arrogance par excellence, a portrait of a President who personifies too much of the Bolshevik/Brezhnev brand of thinking and governing.91(Emphasis by the author)

The president’s tolerance and patience with Turkey was indeed surprising. He continued his talks with the Turkish counterparts despite the repetitive rejection of all his proposals in Anakara. In April 1996 Libaridian paid a visit to Ankara, meeting with both Demirel and Prime Minister Mesut Yilmaz. The president’s advisor was cited as calling on Turkey to “improve our relations without loss of time. It will have positive effects on peace talks.”92 Demirel’s message to Ter-Petrosyan read: “Take a few positive steps towards peace. We will immediately respond if you do so.”93 The main

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thrust of Turkey’s promises of its reconciliation with Yerevan lay in its calls for a preliminary memorandum on reconciliation between Armenia and Azerbaijan before the formal peace settlement. The Azerbaijani president Aliyev objected to such move fearing that the possible improvement between Turkey and Armenia will strengthen Armenia’s position at the negotiation table. Baku obtained Ankara’s guarantees in exchange for its support for Turkey’s financing of the Baku-Supsa “early oil” pipeline.94 In April, Turkey raised its profile in the Nagorno-Karabakh settlement proposing a resolution based on the following principles: territorial integrity of both Armenia and Azerbaijan; wide autonomy for NagornoKarabakh; withdrawal of the Armenian forces from the occupied territories; and return of the refugees.95 The closure of the border was justified as a necessary tool for the establishment of peace between Armenia and Azerbaijan, peace that could make Armenia “one of the richest countries in the Caucasus” implying possible pipeline route through Armenia.96 Needless to say, the Turkish insistence on the border closure brought negotiations to a deadlock. Armenians desperately needed security guarantees before sitting down to negotiate with Azerbaijan. The finalization of military pact with Russia was the only viable way to receive such a guarantee. Russia factor in Armenian-Turkish relations prominently resurfaced in the spring and summer of 1996, after Russia and Armenia signed an agreement on stationing of a Russian military base. Almost immediately following the agreement, Ankara announced the tightening of a military control of its border with Armenia under the pretext of the need to contain the Kurdish separatists operating on the Armenian territory. This was the usual Turkish allegation that the Armenian side consistently rejected and described as a provocation. The Armenian defense establishment saw this as a reaction to the agreement, while the Russian ambassador in Turkey noted: “We were wrong, evidently, when for 50 years we did not inquire as to why American military bases were located in Turkey.”97 The Turkish Foreign Ministry announced that it might increase the numbers of its troops along the border if Russia does not reduce its military presence. In response to these developments a high-ranking Armenian official declared: “Even if the border were to remain locked for 1,000 years more, we will not make unacceptable concessions.”98 The vicious cycle of mistrust took on another dynamic. Now, Turkish foreign policy establishment was tying the dialogue to the state of Russian-Armenian relations. Paul Henze’s 1996 summary is directly reflective of the official Turkish position: As far as Armenia does not function as a base for subversion against Turkey, Turkey has nothing to fear from Armenia … Nineteen ninety six

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(1996) could be a year of major progress toward creation of a productive relationship between Turkey and Armenia. It could also bring progress toward more constructive and mutually beneficial relations with Russia. If Russia regresses into neo-imperialism and turns its back on democracy and the free market, the Russian people will be the losers.99

Contrary to this proposition, I argue that while regional dynamics expressed through Russian-Turkish rivalry in establishing regional preeminence and resolving the Nagorno-Karabakh issue played an important role in setting the general context of the geopolitical developments, it was not the primary root of mistrust between Armenia and Turkey. The RussianTurkish competition in the Southern Caucasus and Central Asia can be arguably viewed as yet another thread in the ball of yarn of ArmenianTurkish deadlock, but by no means the most important factor. Despite the change of leadership in Turkey in the summer of 1996, not much changed in Turkish foreign policy with regards to Armenia. Contrary to the Armenian expectations, Necmettin Erbakan did not toughen Turkish position.100 On the contrary, this period witnessed an unusual activation of economic exchanges sprung from the previously established informal contacts between Turkish and Armenian businessmen.101 Armenia also participated in the Black Sea Region business conference in Istanbul held in April 1997, where Levon Ter-Petrosyan met with both Aliyev and Demirel. In May 1997, the Turkish-Armenian Business Development Council (TABDC) was established in Istanbul and in Yerevan. It prided itself in being “the first and only official link between the public and private sectors in each of the two countries’ communities” as well as the “only Turkish-Armenian joint institution in the world.”102 A series of meetings culminated in the signing of the protocol of intent on August 4, 1997, that proposed developing cooperation in multiple spheres such as banking, textile production, wool and leather processing sectors, investing in the privatization sphere, and others.103 Increased economic interaction between Turkey and Armenia was met with tension in Azerbaijan. Aliyev severely criticized the plans, warning that their implementation will “cause strong indignation in Azerbaijan.”104 Domestically, in Armenia this economic policy was seen through the lenses of the general indignation at the corrupt nature of the regime. It was interpreted as the extension of Ter-Petrosyan family’s personal interest in doing business with Turkey as they were considered to be its biggest benefactors. Such reality compromised the integrity of Ter-Petrosyan’s policy, particularly against the backdrop of his notorious reluctance to explain himself to the public and his growing isolation.

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The president’s failure domestically was to a great extent connected to his foreign policy. The thrust of the president’s position lied in his linkage between Armenia’s successful economic development and a favorable security environment. Hence, the resolution of the conflict and the settlement of Armenian-Turkish grievances were prioritized over any sensible domestic administrative reform. This meant that his clan was pressed to push for a more speedy settlement of these issues. In 1997, this view inevitably came into a direct clash with an emerging opposition, the so-called Karabakh clan within the ruling block itself, represented by the new prime minister Robert Kocharyan (the former president of the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic) and the interior minister Serzh Sarkisyan. Both figures were relatively untainted by the corruption that swept across the PANM ranks. Unlike Ter-Petrosyan, Kocharyan posited that the economic problems should be considered in their own right and resolved through more efficient administration and tax collection without compromising on the security of NagornoKarabakh and Armenia. This new elite was adamant about holding off the resolution of the conflict until the status of the Nagorno-Karabakh is finalized. The pressure on the administration to succumb its positions was mounting. In September 1997 Gerard Libaridian resigned citing personal reasons. On October 4, 1997, Levon Ter-Petrosyan gave his famous press conference in support of the OSCE’s most recent peace plan based on the step-by-step approach. The overriding majority of the administration, including the prime minister, the defense ministry, and Ministry of the Interior, the opposition, and the diaspora rejected the deal, calling it “blackmail” and demanded president’s resignation.105 Ter-Petrosyan resigned in February 1998 with his ambition of seeing Armenia fully integrated into region’s economic structure unrealized. His parting words were, I only find it necessary to note that the Artsakh issue in this crisis was used as an excuse. The problem is much deeper, and it is related to the foundation of the state, to the choice between war and peace.106

The administration attempted to segregate two deeply emotional issues that were ultimately linked—the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict and Armenian-Turkish relations. Ter-Petrosyan’s struggle to impose normalcy over a situation that was rooted in a tangled web of historical grievances proved to be futile. This policy involved what K. Barseghyan refers to as the “deconstruction of all discursive myths,” including the most central one, that of the Armenian genocide.

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Instead of articulating new meanings of nation, pursuing modifications of its old and demarcating its new political frontiers, erasing differences between cultural and political identities, or incorporating other signifiers of constitutionalism, law, economy etc., into discourse on national identity, the political elite was working on the construction of a totally new imaginary of a citizen. As a result the “nation” became empty and the citizen—ill defined.107

Ter-Petrosyan’s contemptuous treatment of the genocide issue was premised on the conviction that this sort of “sentimentality” inhibited efficient political action. His stress on removing emotion form the political space permeated all of his political projects, including that of Armenian-Turkish relations. The president’s speech at the International Genocide Conference held in April 1995 in Yerevan clearly articulates the dramatic difference in his narrative of the genocide versus other Armenian political figures: Appreciating deeply your professionalism and competence, I would not dare enter the depths of the complex issue related to the historical and legal aspects of the Armenian Genocide. I would only like to record some well recognized facts which I consider extremely important in terms of formation of contemporary Armenian political consciousness. In view of the need to internalize history rationally and to avoid the mistakes of the past, I believe it is time to assess the facts with good judgment and to set aside sentimental approaches and psychologically conditioned responses. It is not correct to explain the Armenian Genocide by any religious, ethnic or racist antagonism between the Armenian and Turkish peoples nor by economic and social competition, since the modus vivendi that had evolved within the Ottoman Empire had secured more or less their peaceful coexistence. It is true that this modus vivendi was based on an altogether unequal treatment between Muslim and Christian peoples, but nonetheless, the state did secure a clearly defined balance. The Armenian Genocide was a strictly political program dictated by the interests of the Ottoman Empire.108

Ter-Petrosyan’s thinking was characterized by overconfidence about Turkey’s intentions while every step Turkey took displayed mistrust toward Armenia. While Ter-Petrosyan and his colleagues tried to strip geopolitics from identity, and move the dialogue into a “national” space, identity played an enormous role in determining Turkey’s support of Azerbaijan in the conflict. While he was ready to sideline the genocide issue, the Turkish establishment continued to perceive it as a real threat regardless of the Armenian assurances. The Nagorno-Karabakh conflict only reinforced this prevailing perception among the Turkish public and the military elite that

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Armenians pursued a similar goal of territorial revision in regards to Turkey. Thus, from the very beginning, Ter-Petrosyan’s interpretation of Turkish attitudes had been false. As Stephan Astourian suggests, president’s policy was based on four major assumptions: One was that Turkey would be as interested in normalizing relations with Armenia as Armenia was with Turkey. After all, it takes two to make a happy marriage. Second was the assumption that Mountainous Karabakh could be united in one way or another with Armenia and normal relations could be established with Turkey at the same time. Third, it was expected that Turkey could “forget” the genocide issue, since Armenia was putting it aside. Forth, it was assumed that attachment to kinship, not to say racial, ties, and to pan-Turkic feelings, was not important in Turkey and would not hinder a policy that the PANM viewed as highly rational. Finally, one must add the PANM’s poor judgment about, or perhaps ignorance of, the political views prevailing in the Turkish ruling class and the state of Turkish public opinion.109

This poor judgment was reflected in his domestic politics as well. There was much elitism in his and Libaridian’s proclaimed awareness of the ultimate truth about politics juxtaposed to the general ignorance of the same public that was the backbone of the movement that brought PANM to power. The position of the Armenian leadership in the early 1990s ignored the social contents of the discourse by assuming that the material aspects of reality can modify the social behavior and expectations. Loss of legitimacy by the PANM was not only caused by the unpopular economic policies but also because of the conviction that the political realm could be stripped of normativity. As one Armenian analyst simply put it: Ter-Petrosyan could have given a thousand press-conferences; he could have written a thousand articles and bring a thousand arguments. But to no avail; the people did not trust him.110

One of the expressions of such a position was an attempt to remove the Nagorno-Karabakh issue both from the realm of the domestic politics and Armenia’s relations with Turkey. What R. Suny describes as a “profoundly risky attempt to reorient the national discourse” to a great degree failed because of “the power and coherence of the Armenian national identity, the popular projection of the images of genocide onto the Karabakh conflict,” alongside Turkey’s identification with Azerbaijan.111 As if to seal their final answer to the Ter-Petrosyan administration’s efforts,

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Azerbaijani and Turkish foreign ministers jointly declared in September 1997 that the establishment of Turkish-Armenian relations would be possible only after the resolution of the conflict.112 This uneasy period in Armenian-Turkish relations testified to the larger Armenian public that the past is not a “foreign country” after all and that Armenians are relieving their history. In his epilogue to the narrative of the administration’s policy toward Turkey, Gerard Libaridian concluded, [S]even years of attempts to normalize, to rule out preconditions, failed, and the thinking reemerged in Armenia that Turkey is and may be in fact the eternal enemy and Ter-Petrossian was wrong.113

1998–2005: A Never Ending Story? While the accession of Robert Kocharyan to the presidency did not bring any substantial changes in the foreign policy, it is often associated with a rise of a more hard-line, nationalistic element and assertiveness in Armenia’s relations with the world. This perception is conveyed by Svante Cornell in his analysis of the new president’s position. In terms of relations with Turkey, the advent to power of Kocharyan meant a drastic backlash as compared to the constructive atmosphere that had painstakingly been established, despite the significant problems existing between the two countries. However, Kocharyan did not close the door to Turkey; just like Ter-Petrosyan, he was forced to acknowledge the importance of Turkey for Armenia and the need to keep some form of dialogue open despite the less compromising stance of the new Armenian leadership.114

In April of 1998, the new administration disclosed its outlook on Yerevan’s main foreign policy directions. The issue of the conflict and Armenian-Turkish relations inevitably became the main focus. Kocharyan informed Ankara about his intention to resolve the conflict based on the direct dialogue between Baku and Stepanakert and on the finalization of the status of the enclave. Yerevan also made a proposal to Ankara to strictly concentrate on bilateral relations in the direction of more aggressive economic and trade cooperation and eventual opening of the border.115 However, there were several events that were interpreted in Turkey as signals of a qualitative change in the Armenian rhetoric. In April, the new foreign minister Vartan Oskanian stated in his interview to Radio Liberty that the international recognition of the genocide will

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be placed on the country’s foreign policy agenda: “We will pay greater attention to this problem and we expect justice from the world community … Armenia will put the recognition of the genocide on the agenda of a future dialogue with Turkey.”116 Although the leadership was careful to stress that the issue of the genocide recognition was not a precondition, Kocharyan maintained, “[T]his question is so deeply ingrained in our and their subconscious that it is a serious obstacle in the process of our bilateral relations.”117 Yerevan opposed to holding the OSCE summit in Istanbul reasoning that the summit cannot be held in a country that did not have diplomatic relations with a member state and that Turkey insists on keeping its border with Armenia closed.118 In June, the French National Assembly introduced a draft law recognizing the Armenian genocide. This was the first harbinger of the increased activity of the Armenian diaspora in the pursuit of international recognition. In the first meeting between Kocharyan and Demirel that took place in Yalta at the initiative of the Ukrainian president Kuchma, the Armenian president subtly admonished the Turkish president against allowing other issues to obstruct the bilateral dialogue, a position that could lead Yerevan to also “let its relations with Ankara be affected by numerous problems.”119 In his subsequent interview with Milliyet, Kocharyan called on Ankara to establish relations without any preconditions offering on his end to bypass the issue of the genocide on the bilateral agenda.120 New administration’s assertive tone was rooted in both domestic and regional considerations. On the domestic scene, Kocharyan’s traditionally benevolent relationship with the ARF was at the heart of one of his earliest political decisions to bring the party back into the political scene. The party chairman Vahan Hovannisian was appointed as the president’s top advisor while another prominent Dashnak, Levon Mkrtchyan, was given a portfolio in the new cabinet. Externally, the elite was haunted by the increasing sense of further regional isolation and the pressing need to get actively involved in the regional affairs. The policy of complementarity rooted in the flexible network of alliances with various regional players was designed to compensate Armenia for its exclusion from the regional energy projects caused by the merger of political and economic interests between Azerbaijan and Turkey. We are striding on the path of an open policy and will very seriously develop relations with Russia, which is our strategic partner, as much as with Europe, the United States, China, and Iran, because the development of relations with these countries primarily meets all our national and state interests.121

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Outlining Armenia’s foreign policy priorities, Oskanian referred to Armenian-Turkish relations as the “most problematic,” but characterized them as favorable from economic point of view.122 Normalcy, being denied to Armenia’s foreign policy from the very beginning of independence, was now no longer tied to the normalization of relations with adversaries, but was defined by balancing against them, by pressuring Turkey, by employing the heavy weight of the diaspora, and by negating Armenia’s critical need for the reopening of the border. Why should Armenia not improve its economic showing? A myth exists in Azerbaijan that the unsettled conflict and blockade by Azerbaijan and Turkey supposedly destabilize the economy of Armenia and Nagorno-Karabakh. That is a wrong conclusion. Armenia long ago adapted itself to the existing reality, has overcome a serious energy crisis, and managed to outstrip the neighboring post-Soviet republics in its rate of economic rehabilitation.123

The prominent Armenian Turkologist Ruben Safrastyan views the post1998 Turkish-Armenian discourse as an interesting example of a weak state exerting pressure on a strong power, through which the former not only is capable of resisting the demands of the latter, but also gains certain relative advantage in the diplomatic stalemate by tapping into the issues of history and collective memory.124 Once again, an attempt is made to simultaneously legitimize the Self by appealing to its historical mission and to disentangle Armenian political thinking from the detrimental effects of the trauma by moving the relationship into the realm of a dialogue between equal a-historical entities, states. It is more likely to succeed this time since the conflict is “frozen” and Armenia assumes normalcy of a regular state. However, while on the one hand, the elements of the narrative can be appropriated on various levels whether it is individual, collective, or state, there is again a deep contradiction in evaluating the relationship with this particular Other. This contradiction is caused by another internal dichotomy that calls to be addressed and that is the relationship between the Armenian nation and the Armenian state. The Armenian nation represented both by the Armenian diaspora and the inhabitants of the Republic of Armenia is boundless—it encompasses history and place; the Armenian state is temporal and local. While the former is “enmeshed in a sense of frozen or somehow non-linear time,”125 the latter functions in the world of territorial nation-states. The existence of the diaspora is a direct consequence of the genocide; its overarching aim is to achieve its recognition by the Turkish government. Its rhetoric is existential, relentless, and passionate. Armenian state, on the other hand,

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is engaged in walking a double-edged sword of remaining true to the “essence” of Armenian history and of the making of a new narrative, in which some elements of “self ” are silenced, while others—reinforced. Armenia has repeatedly explained that it is our moral obligation to integrate the issue of Genocide recognition into our foreign policy. Not to raise tensions, not to avenge the past, but to tackle an obstacle, which exists between our two peoples and to work towards its speedy removal.126

While maintaining and employing certain elements of the narrative such as its ancientness, Christianity, and indigenousness, the state simultaneously transforms it by shifting the discourse from the dimension of the trauma into a positive recourse. Again, this is a dynamic process cutting through various levels that involves an active extrapolation of themes from the Armenian history that can serve the needs of the nation.127 Kocharyan decided to eliminate the contradiction and to establish a new relationship of mutual determination. In the new project, the State and the Nation should become conditions of possibility for each other. The ethnic nation and the state can be bridged in one project, of both are articulated through the signifier of “functionality.” “Functionality” became the main prerequisite of their meaning, the main latent signifier. This discursive trick helped both concepts to maintain their “initial” meaning while being tied up with a new raison d’etre—national unity or national survival.128

Responding to the new challenge, Ankara renewed its inclusion of the genocide on its preconditions agenda along with the end of the Armenian occupation of Azerbaijani territories and the withdrawal of territorial demands from Turkey. The summer of 2000 was marked by the introduction of House Resolution 296 on the Armenian Genocide in the U.S. Congress. The fact that the resolution was being advanced with the efforts of the Armenian diaspora did not matter. In Ankara, it was received as a sign that “Armenia does not follow a friendly policy towards Turkey.”129 The campaign to recognize the genocide caused extreme alarm among the Turkish elite and was placed high on the national security agenda. In September, the question of Armenian-Turkish relations was discussed at the National Security Council. It was decided (under the pressure from the military) that Ankara assume the maximum confrontational stance vis-à-vis Armenia consisting of nonestablishment of diplomatic relations, antigenocide campaign, increase in academic research on genocide issue as well as intensification of the efforts of anti-Armenian lobby in Washington.130 As a penalty, the government stopped issuing visas to the Armenian citizens on the

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border gates. After the bill was approved in the House International Relations Committee, Ankara threatened the United States with reconsidering the Operation Northern Watch.131 Despite its eventual withdrawal from the House floor under Clinton’s request, Kocharyan called the resolution a “success.” In Turkey, the press issued warning to the “defiant” Armenians: Turkey cannot impose effective sanctions against the United States, but it can cause Armenia enormous suffering if it really wants to. For instance, it can close Turkey’s airspace to all airplanes flying to Armenia. It can prevent shipment of goods from Turkey via Iran or Georgia by imposing stricter controls. It can officially declare that it will pursue a hostile policy—as hostile as the one they have adopted—against Armenia unless it declares that is has abandoned its anti-Turkish policies.132

Turkish deputy prime minister Mesut Yilmaz advised Armenia, If this one or a similar resolution is brought to the agenda in some way, Turkey would be a little hurt, but Armenia’s interests would suffer more seriously.133

The main point of contention was that while Turkey equated any mentioning of the genocide by Armenian officials to the setting of the issue as a precondition, Armenia argued that it carries a responsibility toward its diaspora to address the issue but it does not use it as a precondition.134 In a much-cited interview to CNN Turk, Kocharyan once again sought to take a balanced approach in order to assure the Turkish public that the recognition of the genocide will not entail legal and territorial demands by Armenia, notwithstanding the fact that the diaspora may make its own demands: “That is our only goal. This is a moral question. And most importantly—a question of honor.”135 In Turkey, such a massive campaign carried out by what it perceived to be the entire Armenian nation led by the Republic of Armenia, was seen as a major blow to its international prestige and honor. The charge of “Armenian genocide” against Turkey is directly related to not only our national honor but also our foreign policy, economy, our image in the world, and our security.136

The Turkish press did not tire pointing to how close the U.S. Congress came to adopting such a resolution; the fact that it failed was not because of the failure of the Armenian lobby but because of Turkey’s place in the U.S. strategic calculations in the Middle East. The press

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was also critical of Azerbaijan’s handling of the issue of the genocide recognition during Aliyev’s visit to Paris. Azerbaijani leader’s remarks were noticeably reserved and moderate in the light of France’s role in the Minsk Group and the upcoming meeting with Kocharyan. This disappointment found its expression in an article publish in Hurriyet, which questioned the rationale behind Turkey’s unconditional support of Azerbaijan and whether Turkey’s continuous tensions with Armenia was a fair price to pay: A policy of opening up to Armenia cannot be considered immediately after the passing of a law by France in the direction of the Armenian claims. However, the pros and cons of the application of such a policy in the future could be investigated today. Armenia needs Turkey from every aspect. We should try to win over the people of Armenia, even of not its government. An Armenia that establishes sound relations with Turkey will be much less in need of the protection in Russia. It will be saved much of its dependence on Iran. Above all, if a solution is found for the Karabakh problem then it will form a much more suitable equation for Turkey’s interests in the Caucasus. We can choose to emphasize the aspects of history that unite us rather than separate us from the Armenians. I repeat, these are the policies of tomorrow, however if you do not think about tomorrow’s policies, then suddenly tomorrow becomes today.137

This statement was an obvious deviation from a consistent formulation of the relationship as unequal and asymmetrical. As a rule, the rekindling of the dialogue was presented as being solely to Armenia’s benefit as a dependent, weak, and impoverished country in need of peace and economic assistance. The discourse was shifting in a sense that the relationship was presented as a desirable outcome for both parties. The issue of Nagorno-Karabakh was obviously a dead level-playing field as the talks between Aliyev and Kocharyan throughout 1999–2001 ended in limbo during the much-anticipated Key West meeting in April 2001. Hence, considering that the attitudes of the ruling elite in Turkey was shifting toward a policy of greater engagement, the issue of the genocide became the most prominent one on the bilateral agenda. The creation of the infamous Turkish-Armenian Reconciliation Commission (TARC) in July 2001 reflected a paradoxical situation, in which the two sides were talking without direct engagement of the state officials, and consequently without bearing a direct responsibility on the outcome of the dialogue. The main proclaimed goal of the commission was to facilitate mutual understanding on the level of the public and NGOs setting up the stage for eventual engagement of the governments “as the first comprehensive attempt to settle disagreements between the

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two neighbors divided by bitterness and distrust.”138 The commission consisted of representatives of the United States, Russia, Armenia, and Turkey. The creation of the body was closely monitored and supported by the U.S. Department of State. The commission brought into the spotlight the question of the outside involvement in the resolution of the Armenian-Turkish dilemma, mainly that of the United States. Although official Yerevan distanced itself from this project, it is hard to imagine that the government did not give its covert consent particularly if a former Armenian foreign minister Armen Arzoumanian and a prominent member of the Armenian Assembly Board of Directors Van Krikorian were its members. Many in the diaspora and Armenia perceived it as an extremely counterproductive step undermining Armenian pressure on Turkey through circumventing the need for “official” genocide recognition. The reaction was fueled by the fact that all the Turkish participants of the initiative have denied the fact of the genocide on many occasions. Critics argued that Turkish participation would aid Ankara in diffusing Western pressure in the area of its human right abuses. In this regard, Turkey’s accession into the EU had become an essential bargaining chip for Yerevan. The Turkish blockade of the Armenian border and the genocide denial had been cited as a serious obstacle for Turkish membership: Armenia would take “successive steps” for including the issues of recognition of the Armenian Genocide and establishment of diplomatic relations with Armenia onto the list of main conditions for Turkey’s membership in EU. EU leaders have highlighted the issue of the genocide and the establishment of the diplomatic relations in conjunction with Turkey’s accession.139

Turkish economic crisis of the spring of 2001 placed Ankara in a precarious dependency vis-à-vis the West, particularly the United States. Its geopolitical aims in the Southern Caucasus did not materialize; its “soft power was never translated into hard power,”140 and its domestic weakness threatened to undermine the projection of Turkish influence. In this light, the creation of the commission was received as an attempt to score dividends by appearing to search for a compromise solution. As Armenian analysts noted, The premise of TARC’s mission jeopardizes the proper pursuit of Armenian-Turkish relations by replacing bilateral diplomacy with private initiative. Such a private effort, manifested by TARC, offers Turkey (and Washington for that matter) an effective avenue to bypass the obligations and rules of dealing with Armenia imposed by the accepted norms of international relations and diplomacy.141

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Due to the pressure from the Armenian side, Armenian members of the commission resigned and despite subsequent American attempts to rekindle its work, particularly in the spring of 2002, it ended in vain.142 U.S. efforts in the area of Armenian-Turkish relations were dictated by geopolitical developments in Eurasia after 9/11 and long-term American interest in the region. The contours of post-9/11 regional dynamics to a large extent explain an ensued activization in ArmenianTurkish relations. The terrorist attacks in New York and Washington transformed the Eurasian geopolitics by bridging previously rival positions of various regional players, such as Russia and the United States on the one hand, and Russia and Turkey on the other. They also placed adversaries like Armenia and Azerbaijan, and Armenia and Turkey under the loose umbrella of antiterrorist coalition. The new environment presented both opportunities and dangers for Turkey as it threatened to transform Turkey’s status of an irreplaceable Western ally and the bulwark of NATO expansion toward the east into “one among many” as Russia moved to consolidate its role within the Western coalition. Turkey’s security establishment understood the imminent change in Turkey’s position even prior to the attacks as evident in the work titled Strategic Depth by Erdoˇgan’s foreign policy advisor Ahmet Davutoglu. The work advocates the enhancement of Turkey’s strategic position by strengthening relations with all its Eurasian neighbors, the Arab world, the Balkans, and the Southern Caucasus.143 As a sign of this new policy, Turkish-Russian relations began to rekindle. In January 2002, Russian chief of staff visited Turkey to conclude an antiterrorism agreement. It was the first such visit since the collapse of the Soviet Union. Later that year, the secretary of the National Security Council, a prominent Turkish general, Tuncer Kilinc noted that Turkey perhaps should cultivate deeper relationships with such neighbors as Russia and Iran instead of so relentlessly pursuing European membership.144 The United States on the other hand needed to engage as many allies as possible, which increased the weight of countries previously deemed as having little significance, such as Armenia. For Armenia, the most immediate effects of 9/11 were felt in the beginning of 2002 when at the request of the Bush administration, the U.S. Congress waved Section 907 of Freedom Support Act. Since 1990, the legislation had placed restrictions on U.S. assistance to Azerbaijan in response to its blockade of Armenia. In order to embrace both sides, the administration pledged to maintain strategic parity by giving them equal financial assistance. Simultaneous U.S. engagement of both Azerbaijan and Armenia pressured Turkey to pursue a similar stance particularly when it reflected its own changing priorities in the Southern Caucuses. As Milliyet columnist

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commented after 9/11, the “U.S. has lifted its embargo that it had applied against Azerbaijan since 1992. They may ask us to make some gesture of reciprocity towards Armenia.”145 Parallel difficulties with the United States in Iraq also demanded that Turkey make some symbolic gestures. There was also a realization that the special relationship with Azerbaijan limits Turkey’s choices in pursuit of its geopolitical objectives. These factors created a momentum that brought together Turkish foreign minister Ismail Cem, Vartan Oskanian, and Vilayet Guliyev in Reykjavik in May 2002. The meeting was put together through an active groundwork by the Armenian and Turkish foreign ministries. Although Cem voiced four preconditions, the hierarchy had changed. The demand for the withdrawal from the occupied territories was now superseded by the expectation that Yerevan would drop its demands of the genocide recognition. Then, during the meeting between the Armenian and Turkish foreign minister in Istanbul within the framework of the BSEC, Cem reversed the order of the preconditions and reiterated, “First Karabakh, then relations.”146 In September 2002, U.S. ambassador to Armenia John Ordway remarked that “in communicating with our Turkish friends, we call on them to take definitive steps to respond to the Armenian side’s initiative.”147 There was a trace of optimism in Yerevan: If there were to be a positive development, that is the lifting of the blockade of Armenia and more unbiased position regarding the conflict, Turkey could increase Armenia’s possible chances for ensuring its security prior to the settlement of the conflict. Reducing our concern over some issues will promote a compromise solution to the problem … We are just convinced that if over the last 10 years Armenia and Turkey had had good neighborly relations, the Nagorno-Karabakh problem would already be solved or today we would have a lot more scope for settling the conflict as soon as possible.148

In Turkey, the arguments were voiced that the opening of the border can lift the pressure from the diaspora on the Armenian administration as well as undermine the role of the Armenian lobby in the United States in the pursuit of the genocide issue.149 The thaw in the relations was reinforced by the victory of Justice and Development Party (AKP) in November 2003 elections, which was characterized as a political earthquake. The domestic political change reinforced by the effects of 9/11 shifted Turkey’s foreign policy priorities. The new ruling party moved away from marked two-decade long Western direction and toward increasing identification with the larger Eurasian region. It displayed more pragmatic approach to foreign affairs

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that promoted Turkey’s economic interests. In its relations with Armenia, Turkish pragmatism resurfaced in the December 2003 remarks by the Turkish foreign minister Yasar Yakis: “We will take Azerbaijan’s concerns into account when we decide to establish ties with Armenia. But if our economic interests demand that we establish relations with Armenia, we must do so.”150 As Gareth Winrow argues, Turkey’s failure to become a “pivotal state” in the region pushed Ankara to use economics, particularly energy as means of achieving strategic influence.151 Its lack of success in securing a leading role in the regional projects largely due to its policies vis-à-vis Armenia and Azerbaijan and the gradual loss of the strategic edge in its cooperation with the United States put Ankara and Moscow in a similar dimension. Consequentially, competition with Russia was gradually replaced by cooperation in economic, mainly energy sphere. Although gas became “the primary element and driving force in Russian-Turkish relations,” commentators are more prone to put the economic cooperation in a secondary position to the geostrategic logic of two states that are not satisfied with their current position in the world.152 Increase in the importance of the states in Central Asia and the Southern Caucasus and the fact of their strengthening individual partnerships with the United States, “not only substantially reduced the American reliance on Turkish facilities, but also bypassed Turkey as a patron for U.S. interests in these regions.”153 In 2003–2004, systemic conditions for a settlement between Armenia and Turkey seemed to have been in place. The question remains whether these underlying conditions were sufficient to achieve a breakthrough. In June 2003, Gul and Oskanian met in Madrid at the NATO’s Foreign Ministers Meeting agreeing to transform the existing “routine approach” in an “accelerated action.”154 Trade and economics were among the principal issues of the discussion. At the same time, Turkish diplomats and members of the Armenian diaspora and Armenian officials engaged in the second-track diplomacy.155 That same month, Turkish soldiers took part in the NATO PFP (Partnership for Peace) exercises held in Armenia. The opening of the border was actively discussed on the domestic stage in Yerevan. In the summer of 2003, the Armenian Union of Industrialists and Entrepreneurs initiated a round table in Yerevan on the problem of the bilateral economic relations with Turkey. In July, the Armenian parliament denounced the government’s effort to establish trade links with Turkey by arguing that Turkey has not been neutral in the conflict and refuses to recognize the genocide.156 Vahan Hovanesyan, the deputy speaker of the ARF announced that the opening of the border can present a direct threat to the Armenian economy. Armen Rustamyan,

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the chairman of the National Assembly’s standing commission for foreign relations and a member of the ARF spoke out against separating trade and economics from political issues: “On the one hand, the problem concerns our national security. On the other, it concerns regional security and stability. And everyone knows that security tasks require firm guarantees.”157 To create a positive climate for negotiations, the foreign ministry at times even distanced itself from the international campaign to recognize the genocide. For example, in December 2003, the foreign ministry displayed some reserve in regards to the diaspora’s efforts to achieve the recognition of the genocide by the Swiss parliament: “It is a separate process, and we would not like it to be correlated with the existing Armenian-Turkish dialogue.”158 Speculations were made that the establishment felt that it was appropriate to stand behind the international efforts at the time when a real possibility for a dialogue was taking place. Stirring the mood in Yerevan, Baku, and Ankara were Erdoˇgan’s remarks made during his visit in Washington that hinted at the possibility of opening the border. Azerbaijani officials noted nervously that Ankara was making “inadmissible concessions” to the Armenian side for the sake of its EU membership. Baku used the familiar tool for modifying Turkish position by appealing to Turkish solidarity. Before the fist visit of Ilham Aliyev to Turkey, the speaker of the Azerbaijani parliament announced, “If Turkey opens the border with Armenia, it will deal blow not only to Azerbaijani-Turkish friendship but also to the entire Turkic world.”159 Ankara consistently refuted the rumors about the opening of the border, ascribing it mainly to the Azerbaijani anxiety. It pressed for diplomatic solution of the conflict through tripartite effort. The Turkish ambassador in Baku assured the Azerbaijani authorities that Erdoˇgan’s statements in Washington were simply “misunderstood.”160 The Azerbaijani reaction to the Turkish-Armenian talks revealed that within the Azerbaijani reality, Armenian-Turkish relations are directly correlated with the issue of Nagorno-Karabakh. Any improvement in these relations would tip the balance in favor of Armenia constituting a major failure of Azerbaijani foreign policy. Moreover, during that period, the policy-makers in Baku came to a troubling realization that they should not merely rely on a “natural” coincidence of Azerbaijani-Turkish interests. Turkey was driven by its own anxieties concerning the issue of the genocide and maximizing its economic gains.161 A Turkish analyst who accompanied Erdogan to Washington commented, “I think there are many in AKP who believe that increased commerce makes better neighbors, and thus eases the way for better relations.”162 In April 2004, a prominent Turkish career

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diplomat Ilter Turkmen published an article advocating the opening of the border with Armenia. Such publication by a former foreign minister in a million-copy Hurriyet can hardly be discarded as an individual opinion. Turkmen referred to the antigenocide efforts by the Turkish government as counterproductive and called for a more measured and gradual approach aimed at curbing anti-Turkish sentiments particularly in Europe.163 Another article in Sabah also questioned Turkish position vis-à-vis Armenia: If Turkey had displayed approaches, which are more independent and befitting to a state, rather than the emotional relations after the disintegration of the Soviet Union, then perhaps there would not have been an Azerbaijani-Armenian problem today. If Turkey had followed a neutral stance and policy, then it could have provided more contributions to the solution of the problem. Too close a contact with Azerbaijan, to use the same statements and follow the same policy, caused Turkey to loose its attribute of a mediator and it became a party in the dispute.164

The ambiguity surrounding the actual reasons of not having relations with Armenia can be traced in the draft National Security Policy Document (MGSB) cited by Hurriyet. The following two statements in the document make it clear why the Armenian officials felt increasingly frustrated with the Turkish policy: “Turkey does not have an important problem with Armenia. Rather, the problem stems from the Armenian diaspora”; “the fact that the border with Armenia is closed stems from Armenia’s Azerbaijani policy, rather than the relations between Armenia and Turkey.”165 If none of the issues were intrinsic to the substance of bilateral relations, why there was still no breakthrough? In his interview to a German newspaper in April 2004, Vartan Oskanian reflected: The start of our relations with the new Turkish government was good. Since last year, I have had three meetings with Turkish foreign minister Abdullah Gul. The first meeting was good, the second less good, and the third one was bad. First, we concentrated on bilateral issues. During the second meeting, we discussed the Nagorno-Karabakh issue as well, and during the third one the Karabakh issue became a precondition for normalizing relations. Thus, we remained on the same positions we were during the former Turkish government.166

This realization that Turkey continues to treat Armenia as an unequal partner by putting forth preconditions and making demands erased the goodwill that was emerging among the Armenian leadership. In June

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2004, Robert Kocharyan refused to attend the NATO summit in Istanbul citing the current state of Armenian-Turkish relations.167 The Armenian government continued to reject the linkage between Nagorno-Karabakh issue and the improvement of the relations. It was particularly sensitive to perceived “blackmailing” and Turkish acquiescence to the Azerbaijani pressure, whereby the future of regional stability and economic integration was tied to Yerevan’s willingness to compromise on Nagorno-Karabakh: Nagorny Karabakh has no price and is not an object of bargaining, therefore we are rejecting suggestions that by safeguarding its interests the Armenian side is depriving itself of the opportunity to take part in major regional projects.168

During June PACE (Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe) session, Robert Kocharyan gave a harsh reply to a Turkish journalist, “If you think that we cannot exist without Turkey, you are mistaken. Armenia exists and develops well without you.”169 This statement was preceded by Armenia’s announcement of its refusal to endorse Turkey’s presidency in the OSCE in 2007, citing the closed borders and nonexistence of diplomatic relations as the principal reason. Some perceived the veto threat as a counter step against Turkey’s recurrent policy of joggling with various preconditions.170 There is something deeper in Turkey’s dilemma over its relations with Armenia than the issues it has been placing on the agenda. Whether through the efforts of the diaspora or the statements of the Armenian officials, the campaign for the genocide recognition seemed to have triggered the underlying and exaggerated perception of Armenians as a threat, which as Richard Giragosian argues, has been “one of the core limitations inherent in Turkish policy towards the Armenian issue.”171 As some Turkish authors argue, the denial of the genocide in Turkey is beyond the fear of territorial and legal nightmare that the acceptance might unleash. The genocide discourse is rooted in “nation’s denial of its own historical experience,” and the collective amnesia of the Ottoman defeat.172 The entire process of the formation of modern Turkish identity was based on the erosion of the traditional Ottoman millet system and on the imagining of Armenians as first “others” due to their earlier claims to historical homeland. As a result, as Ayla Gol suggests, It was the Armenian claims over the Eastern provinces of Anatolia that created a threat to the new Turkish identity and became the basis for differentiating between the Turks and the Armenians as their other. In this context, the process of othering Armenians is based on the Turkish threat

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perception of Armenian territorial claims. This perception will continue to serve Turkish politicians’ ideological interests if Armenian nationalists also continue to insist on claiming that Armenians must return to their historical homelands.173

A revisionist Turkish historian, Taner Akcam, has examined the issue of the genocide recognition as a matter of political necessity for Turkey’s transformation into a truly democratic country. At the heart of this process, according to him, is the inevitable but liberating agony of recollecting history in a society, which lacks historical consciousness. The birth of the modern republic was premised on a radical severing of ties with the past and contingent upon collective forgetting. The genocide and the rise of Kemal Attaturk, Akcam argues, had their roots in the same emotional reaction to the shock waves of humiliation and siege mentality plaguing the elite of the crumbling empire. The mentality of a victim engraved in the minds of the last generation of the Ottoman rulers not only propelled them to lash out on the Armenians as the ultimate traitors but subsequently forced them to practically erase the past. Lack of historical consciousness is a common problem. However there are still more direct reasons for fearing the discussion of the Armenian genocide as if one feared a “monster.” I hereby maintain that the wish to forget history is directly related to the genocide of the Armenians. In order to be freed from the connotations of the term genocide, the founders of modern Turkey undertook a kind of cleansing as they ushered in the republic. The slow but continuous disintegration of the great empire, the military defeats in war that continued over the years, the loss of tens of thousands of people, a society whose dignity was scorned along with the constant loss of self-worth, overwhelmed by the imagery of a great history, fantasies about recreating the past, the terminal bursting of these dreams, and the inability to absorb and integrate these numerous contradictions, and … finally, the genocide: that constitutes a social trauma of major proportions.174

Because of this profound national “amnesia” in modern Turkey, the genocide issue is placed simultaneously within and beyond the political realm. The emergence of taboo is conducted through the mechanism of securitization.175 On the one hand, the issue being securitized is placed in the sphere of public policy; on the other, it is placed outsides the boundaries of normal politics because the issue is presented as an existential threat. This instance in particular fits the definition of securitization offered by Weaver et al. in a sense that it occurs only and when “the audience accepts it as such.”176 The securitized nature of the issue

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of the Armenian genocide in Turkey is demonstrated through a slow, painful, and intense domestic debate over ermeni sorunu (the Armenian question). The contradicting signals sent by the state over the permissible boundaries of the discussion, exemplified by almost simultaneous holding of the first conference on the Armenian genocide in Turkey and the consecutive indictments of two distinguished Turkish intellectuals on the account of insulting “Turkishness,” testifies to the explosive nature of the issue. The nature of the threat does not change depending on who poses it, whether it is the Armenian diaspora or the Armenian state. The fear surrounding the genocide issue in Turkey is exacerbated by the lack of clarity in the official Armenian articulation of the issue rooted in the relationship between the Armenian state and the Armenian diaspora. It is important to emphasize that Armenian foreign policy agenda includes the recognition of the genocide by the international community and not Turkey. This reformulation incorporates the diaspora as a participant without making radical demands from Turkey: It is a political reality that both Turkey and Armenia exist today in the international community with their current borders. It is a political reality that we are neighbors and we will live alongside each other. It is a political reality that Armenia is not a security threat to Turkey. And finally, it is a reality that it is today’s Armenia that calls for the establishment of diplomatic relations with Turkey. For these reasons, anything beyond genocide recognition has not been and is not on Armenia’s foreign policy agenda.177

A few months later, the president made the following statement on the national television. We have never raised in the name of any governmental body the issue of any territorial demands. We have today on our foreign policy agenda the issue of the recognition of the Genocide. What legal consequences that would have, is an issue for future presidents and future political officials. But we must also be realistic, and from that perspective, our expectations and reality should not be too different. When they become too different, one can get subsequently disillusioned. The more realistic we are, the less the probability of subsequent disillusionment. We should now consistently struggle for the recognition of the Genocide. Regarding the second segment of that issue, the less we talk about it now, the better for us.178

The diaspora’s mission is to respond to the historical injustice, while the state is pursuing its own agenda. In a sense, diaspora lifts the strain

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of responsibility from the Armenian state by pursuing its own campaign of the genocide recognition, which official Yerevan endorses yet does not represent. Once again the state is challenged to incorporate the ethnic component into the political discourse.179 Although understandable, such caution does not bear much fruits, however. One, it produces internal ambiguity about Armenia’s position on the genocide. There is a clearly articulated need to formulate a single coordinated national position. On the public level, according to the polls, majority of the Armenians believe that today’s Republic of Turkey is accountable for the genocide. Yet, the same majority advocates establishing relations with Turkey without forgetting the past.180 In May 2004, World Armenian Congress and Moscow-based Armenian Institute of International Law and Political Science organized a conference in Yerevan titled “The Genocide Factor in the ArmenianTurkish Relations.” The program reflected an effort to conceptualize the issue within the unified national agenda, through coordinating the activities of various organizations and think tanks.181 Scholars have called upon the administration to develop a conception of the genocide recognition that would encompass both public and official levels, and firmly place it within the realm of state-policy instead of half-hearted proclamations.182 This ambiguity transcends even the economic realm. In Armenia, there is a lack of national consensus and of a single policy formulation regarding the economic consequences of the blockade. Disjointed assessments by think tanks, foreign ministry, independent analysts, members of the parliament, and international institutions serve as a substitute of a clearly defined policy. Some analysts believe that against already existing trade relations between the two countries (albeit through the third party, Georgia), the further increase in interaction is “senseless for the Armenian economy.” Turkey is a country possessed of neither high technologies nor a developed scientific infrastructure. And a full-scale Turkish penetration into Armenia, even in the realm of the economy, is fraught with danger to Armenian national security.183

According to a 2000 World Bank study, the opening of the border by both Turkey and Azerbaijan could increase Armenia’s GDP by 30 percent.184 In contrast, 2005 report prepared by the ArmenianEuropean Policy and Legal Advice Center claims that in the event of opening of the border, Armenian economy would only profit $20 million–$23 million annually.185 The economic growth would be

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constituted mainly through lowered transportation costs particularly in the event of reopening Kars-Gyumri railway. Such a change in expectations was attributed to a widely cited impressive economic growth that Armenia underwent between 2000 and 2005. In Armenia, the report was received as a political statement backing the positions of the president and the foreign minister, who have consistently highlighted Armenia’s self-sufficiency amid the blockade. As economist Eduard Agajanov suggested, the need to downplay the necessity for the border opening is dictated by the fundamental goal “to preserve the current oligarchic economic system in Armenia, which cannot survive if the borders are opened and competition with Turkish goods becomes tougher.”186 Nationalist groups and parties such as ARF and members of the Armenian Nationalist Front consider an opening to be a direct threat not only to the Armenian economy, but also to the security of the Armenian statehood as a whole. On the other side of the spectrum is the TABDC, which has actively promoted the establishment of relations, pointing to its enormous opportunities on both sides of the border. According to the TADBC estimate, “[T]he cost of closed borders to the Republic of Armenia alone is estimated between 30 and 40% of its GNP.”187 Some of the most vocal supporters among Armenian officials included the prime minister Andranik Markaryan, the defense minister Serzh Sarkisyan, the deputy minister of trade and economic development Tigran Davtyan, and former prime minister Vazgen Manukian. Bridging both sides, however, is the serious concern over Armenia’s exclusion from the East-West transportation routes, for which Armenia has a great potential. The current project to build a Baku-Tbilisi-Kars railway is by far less economically feasible than the existing Gyumri-Kars line: The justification for the project is facilitating east-west movements of oil, cotton, grains between the Caucasus and Central Asia and Europe including Turkey. Relative to routings through Armenia, the new gateway would offer no distance advantage and traverses higher elevations. Clearly, the proposed railroad is intended to replace a transport option that is unavailable as long as the Blockade is in force.188

The railroad is part of TRASECA (Transport Corridor Europe-CaucasusAsia) technical assistance project aimed at connecting eight South Caucasus and Central Asian countries with Europe by forming a Eurasian transportation corridor. Armenia has been particularly vocal about calling the Baku-Kars railway a “political” project, aimed at once

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again excluding Armenian from the regional transportation and energy networks: Unfortunately, the blockade of Armenia on the part of Azerbaijan and Turkey continues up to now, and the already existing Baku-Tbilisi-Jeyhan pipeline is an evidence of it. However, we should note that we have a good opportunity in our arsenal, and it is the opportunity of re-launching the Kars-Gyumri-Tbilisi-Baku railway. And if we are able to reach that, we will be able to say that we have achieved our objective and have not been left out of the regional processes. I would like to emphasize that we went forward in our proposals and suggested that the Kars-Gyumri railway be re-launched, and as long as the Armenian-Turkish relations are not yet regulated, we send no cargo by that railway and get no cargo from Turkey. We will allow that railway to pass through Armenia without making use of it. As a matter of fact, this proposal clears up all the fears of our opponents.189

While the overall economic impact of the blockade has received competing assessments within Armenia’s political spectrum and has been generally perceived as “far less than originally anticipated,”190 it has created a siege mentality and precludes Armenia from full-fledged participation in economic integrationist processes in the Southern Caucasus, and the larger Eurasian region. Conclusion Armenia’s relations with Turkey are yet another conundrum that has defined the parameters of its foreign policy after 1991. In this case, the historical enmity has overridden the structural dynamics that at times have created a momentum for reconciliation. Because Turkey is the ultimate “Other,” this relationship is demarcated by various red lines, rooted in history, some of which are made alive by the conflict over NagornoKarabakh, while others by the demands of the Armenian diaspora. Armenian self-victimization and exceptionalism is premised on the denial of the genocide by and the continuous threat from Turkey, hence changes in this area of foreign policy would ensue a dramatic transformation of the Armenian identity. On another level, the enmity between Armenia and Turkey represents one of the most important enduring constitutive features of the Southern Caucasus regional security complex and, if settled, has the potential of dramatically reshaping it.

Chapter 3

Iran: “The Permanent Alternative” By experience and necessity, our engagement with Iran is not and cannot be superficial and on-and-off again. Nor does it really pose any real or substantial security threat to anybody. It does not tilt any strategic balance. Even its economic significance is very minimal on the scale of global, even regional, trade. What we have is the cooperation of two neighbors, each resisting different forms of isolation and marginalization.1 Armenia approaches relations with Iran as a political constant regardless of any potential political developments in the future. Armenia is absolutely unequivocal in claiming that these two countries are connected by a common ancient culture, civilization, communion, etc. Friendly and impartial attitude towards Iran is one of the most significant elements of Armenian national “weltanaschauung.”2

Introduction This chapter labels Iran as the “permanent alternative” in the Armenia’s foreign policy thinking and practice since the beginning of the independence. This term reflects both Iran’s immediate post-1991 role as that of a balancing power vis-à-vis Turkey and Azerbaijan and the Armenians’ perception of their relations with Iran as a political constant. Both countries see each other as one of the paths leading them away from regional marginalization and isolation that results in the use of a similar language of balance and mediation. Armenia uses its relationship with Iran as a semantic tool in formulating and presenting its policy of complementarity. It would have been simply impossible for Armenia to advance this concept and illustrate its raison d’etat without its relationship with this ideological opponent of the West. “Social banks,” consisting of Armenia’s Iran specialists, linguists, and trained

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diplomatic staff as well as key leadership’s cultural familiarity with the Middle East, grant this relationship certain depth and underlying comfortableness despite certain mutual tensions. The main obstacle for the full realization of the potential is Iran’s balancing act between Armenia and Azerbaijan and Armenia’s precaution against distancing itself from the United States. The same isolation that brings them together plays a major structural role in putting hindrances to a strategic partnership. Yet, there is mutual respect and understanding of the limitations of the other. On the Armenian side, relations with Iran is one among few issues upon which the entire spectrum of the Armenian political forces converge. Careful Engagement Through his statement above, the Armenian foreign minister conveyed the essential reality of Armenia’s outlook toward Iran as a “permanent alternative.” Iran is not the identity-defining “other”; it does not constitute the core of the Armenian strategic thinking and it does not guide Armenia’s choices as Turkey and Russia do. This relationship has not sparked internal debates, and has been one of the very few issues upon which the entire spectrum of Armenian political forces agrees. In the current geopolitical schemes of the region, cooperation with Iran is an outlet for Armenia’s stifled regional diplomacy and energy deficit. And yet, calling it a “tactical alliance” would grossly overlook permanent characteristics of this relationship that gives it a more solid base than the volatile nature of the regional geopolitics would permit. Hence, the use of term “permanent alternative” would be adequate as it reflects both Iran’s role in the most recent Armenian history as that of a balancer vis-à-vis Turkey and the Armenians’ perception of their relations with Iran as a political constant. While this chapter will address the geopolitical gravitational forces that bring these two countries together, it will also continue to emphasize the role of history and cultural connections in forging this partnership all the favorable tactical and strategic conditions notwithstanding. Most ancient among Armenia’s immediate neighbors, Iran has witnessed and participated in the pre-Christian period of Armenian history. Its religion, language, politics, and culture have left a deep trace on ancient and early medieval Armenian society. As Nina Garsoian suggests, “[F]or all of [Armenia’s] unquestionable, ultimate dedication to Christianity, Iranian social forms and especially Iranian ideology had sunk deeply into the substratum of its institutions and beliefs that they long outlived its conversion. Politically, culturally, as well as physically

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linked to Iran, pre-Islamic Armenia continued to lie significantly beyond the eastern limit.”3 An important factor is the historically benevolent treatment of the Armenian community by the Iranian shahs and the distinguished position that the Armenian community enjoys in Iran. In the seventeenth century, as a result of forced relocation ordered by Shah Abbas Safavi, an Armenian community was established in the city of Isfahan. Armenian merchants in Iran became the primary agents of country’s international trade, particularly with India and the Mediterranean.4 Today, the Armenian community in Iran numbers around 200,000; it is the largest non-Muslim community and the only ethnic minority represented by two deputies in the Iranian majlis. The inclusion of Armenia into the Persian Empire in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries left a physical trace through a Persian mosque in the heart of today’s Yerevan, which has been recently renovated and reopened following an agreement between the two governments. Armenian monuments in Iran are maintained and restored as in no other neighboring state.5 There is a genuine interest in the Persian culture and language among ordinary Armenians, which is cultivated through Persian language classes in secondary schools, comprehensive Persian language and literature program at the Yerevan State University, and publication of a major scholarly journal on Iran-related issues, Iran-name. On December 21, 1998, a conference titled “Iran, Armenia: Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow” was organized in Tehran by the Iranian Center of Political and Geopolitical Studies and the Caucasian Center of Iranian Studies in Yerevan. In his address, the chair of the Center and the professor of the Iranian Studies at the Yerevan State University, Garnik Asatrian reflected that “the link between Armenia and Iran is founded not only on the common genetic heritage, historical and cultural traditions, common worldview and philosophical perceptions but is intimately connected to the idea of monotheism.”6 This not only builds a solid social and intellectual foundation for cooperation but also facilitates the formation of a well-trained diplomatic staff that is largely exposed to Iranian culture and mode of thinking. The importance of these “soft” factors cannot be overemphasized as they frame and solidify the human dimension of political interactions. This is what one can call a “social bank,” which provides the language and comfortableness in dealing with the other, regardless of the characteristics of the day. The Islamic character of the current regime in Iran is not considered an obstacle but a positive symbol of a relationship that is being presented as a dynamic link between Armenia and the Islamic world. Historical

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mistrust of Islam in the Armenian national psyche ceases to be a factor in these relations, same being true of Iran’s perception and behavior toward Armenia, which “diverges from nominal lines of religious or ‘civilizational’ affinity.”7 One of the most vivid episodes of the early medieval ArmenianIranian relations, the martyrdom of Vartan Mamikonian, Vartananz, who led the armed struggle against the Sasanid Persia, has been frequently invoked throughout the Karabakh movement. Yet, it is the symbolism of the battle as one between the Self and the evil Other rather than the identity of the enemy that is at the forefront of the narrative. The enemy is faceless, and its Persian origins are “forgotten.” This means that on the level of the collective memory the Battle of Avarair serves as a historical “template” representing small Armenia’s ongoing struggle against a more powerful enemy that is devoid of personification of Iranians as hostile neighbors. Ambrahamian makes a similar point when he reflects that “however stable the historical memory and the image of an enemy maybe, the latter is often much more flexible in reality than one may expect. For example, the image of the Persian oppressor as a generalized enemy of the Armenians, on which generations of the Armenians were educated, was replaced by the Turkish violator by the end of the 19th century.”8 The place of Iran in the contemporary Armenian political thinking should be considered both separately and in the context of Armenia’s self-image vis-à-vis the Middle East. Iran is the only country in Armenia’s immediate neighborhood that carries the slogan of Islamic identity. As such it is the only neighbor that could serve as a bridge between Armenia and the Muslim world, and hence, the larger Middle East region. Therefore, the relationship with Iran had to be internalized among the Armenian leadership not only separately but also as a template, which is to be used in the relations with the rest of the Islamic world. Iran was not a significant player in Armenia’s political history of the twentieth century, yet alone in its form of theocracy. It was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time and as a consequence, its intensions in 1991 were not easily predictable. The Armenian government’s cautious and moderate position with regards to the larger Muslim world has played a major role in easing Iran into more comfortable terms with Armenia. Armenia’s relations with Iran speaks to Armenians self-perception as an intermediate between East and West and is one the most powerful semantic tools that is being used to demonstrate country’s neutral position. This position was articulated even before the attainment of independence, and seems to be rooted in a firm conviction shared by the overwhelming majority of Armenia’s political forces. The ancientness of

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Iran, its belonging to the Aryan civilizational axis, highlights the origins of the Armenians and their indigenous and continuous presence on the Armenian plateau. This particular “Other” enhances the very primordial elements of the Self, which occupies a central place in the narrative of Armenian history. In this binary relationship, it is no longer a religion that serves as the qualifier of the “Other” but rather the concept of ancientness: At the time when Armenians and Iranians already lived side by side, peacefully and harmoniously, many of those who play a role today in our region had not even appeared at the historical stage.9

During the June 1989 session of the Armenian Supreme Soviet, Zori Balayan delivered a major speech on the issue of Pan-Turanism that was widely printed and distributed. It is time to declare to the whole world that the Armenian people do not have now, nor can they ever have, religious intolerance towards others. The fate of our people has been such that we ended up at the crossroads of caravan routes. And the world now knows that by being the first to adopt Christianity, Armenians simultaneously accepted and adopted also a universal principle that there are nine basic religions that constitute humanity’s collective consciousness. No one has the right to impose religion on another. We are grateful to the Muslim peoples of Central Asia, particularly to the Uzbek people, who provided sanctuary to hundreds of thousands of Armenians who had lived through the Genocide of 1918–1920. We are grateful to the Muslim Arab world which saved hundreds of thousands of survivors of the 1915 Genocide. And it has been now four centuries that an Armenian community of a quarter million is flourishing in Iran where one finds an apostolic church next to the mosque. And our two peoples, Iranians and Armenian, have to come to realize fully that in the present world politics they must be allies.10

This path coincides with Tehran’s own language of the dialogue of civilizations. Both countries stress “dialogue” and intercivilizational bridges and both have employed the rhetoric of “neither East nor West.”11 A passage from a publication published by an influential Armenian think tank, the Armenian Center for National and International Studies, reflects this idea: One of the most ancient nations in the world, having at its core the archetype of Aryan mentality, [Armenia] is at the same time the most ancient Christian nation. This unique combination brought about

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the existence of an ethnos with its own unique civilizational form … With the formation of multipolar and multicivilizational world model, Armenia as a state situated at the crossroads of civilizations has all the potential to become a unique chain linking East and West, South and North through conducting a sensible foreign policy.12

This view echoes the earlier assessment offered by Igor Muradian and Samvel Manukian in their 1997 monograph although it is less optimistic: The marginal state of the Armenian nation at the crossroads of several civilizations, the absence of a unified state through out a thousand years, the vulnerability of all of its social institutions against the outside hostile influences developed an unusual national character … Armenians are not a European nation; Armenians are not an Eastern nation with its most salient feature—high level of religiosity. The [Armenian] church in its actual state is incapable of expressing its authentic traditionalism. It is secularized and politicized. The way, through which Armenia can secure its place in the world community, is the conservative revolution.13

Armenia should emulate this “third” way, the authors suggest, from Iran whose own Islamic revolution was itself a “conservative revolution.” The most powerful consequence of such a revolution would be the assertion of the Self, its unique ethnic, spiritual, and social roots versus the borrowing from the contemporary Western political discourse. This view of Armenia’s political and social predicament reveals an intuitive attraction to the contemporary Iranian political thinking and its stress on originality, authenticity, and independence. The stress on civilizational aspect of its culture, ancient history, and the position in “between” the two worlds are the important elements of the narrative of the Armenian “self,” which are mirrored through its relations with Iran. “Going back to the roots” represents an urge to transcend the modern calamities and conceptualize the Self in the rapidly changing world. Iran as the “Other” manifests that “rootedness” and self-realization. This complex interplay of the material and the ideational manifested itself in Armenia’s foreign policy toward the Middle East region. The first president became the main architect of this policy, aiming at turning Armenia into a dynamic link between the East and the West. The following excerpt from Levon Ter-Petrosyan’s interview to Izvestiya newspaper on February 1, 1992, sheds light on the administration’s position at the time: [Armenia] that was satisfied with the role of the “dead end” of the former Soviet Union now, with the attainment of independence, receives an

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opportunity to find an escape and to situate itself at the international crossroads: playing a role of cultural, political or economic link between East and West. Until recently this role had been played by Lebanon, a Christian-Muslim country that had a powerful financial sector. Now, however, it has been greatly destroyed and it is unknown when it will be able to restore its former status. Israel would like to replace Lebanon in such capacity, yet it is difficult to imagine given its problematic relationship with the Middle East and the Arab countries. I am looking at this from a strictly political position. However we are carrying out a very active foreign policy in order to present the international community with a solid proof that we are capable of playing the role of a bridge between east and west … I am an orientalist and I am familiar with the way of thinking of the East. There has always been a fear of falling under the influence of the northern neighbor, Russia. Having an intermediary between Russia and the Middle East at present time is beneficial both to the South, Europeans and Russia. On the other hand, a dangerous rift is growing between the Muslim and the Christian world. It is very dangerous because the religion is being turned into a political weapon. From this point of view, it is important to have a neutral territory; both for the West and the Middle East … It is here that we can play a role.14

Expressing his dissatisfaction with the state of Armenia’s relations with Middle Eastern countries, Levon Ter-Petrosyan and his foreign minister devote much energy on building a network of friendly countries in the region.15 The first country on the agenda was Iran because it was an immediate neighbor with which Armenia had no visible contradictions and with which it shared cultural links. During his first official visit to Tehran on February 9, 1992, the Armenian foreign minister Raffi Hovannisian signed series of diplomatic and economic agreements with his Iranian counterpart, Ali Akbar Velayati on the transit of Iranian goods through the Armenian territory, Iranian natural gas supplies, and the construction of a temporary bridge over the Arax River, which became “pathway of life for Armenia during the most difficult years of the blockade.”16 A month later the foreign minister paid a visit to Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, and Egypt within the period of one week. As one analyst suggested, “[T]he Republic is well-placed to capitalize on the respect in which the long-established Armenian communities are held in the countries of region.”17 Against this grand goal, there were issues of immediate concern, of even mere survival, such as supplies of fuel oil and deliveries of gas, particularly during the harsh winter of 1991–1992. In February, the Armenian energy minister, American-born Sebouh Tashjian departed for Tehran to seek an immediate deal to deliver 550,000 tons of fuel oil

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a year to power-starved Armenia. While the pipeline construction was a distant goal, the fuel oil could dramatically change the situation in the republic. Unfortunately, the only railway connection between Iran and Armenia passed through Nakhichevan, and the attempts to transport the oil failed due to the Azerbaijani sabotage. The newly constructed bridge over the Arax River became the only physical but most importantly, functional and reliable link with the outside world and allowed for some deliveries of fuel oil to Armenia’s southern regions and cheap Iranian consumer goods that were in great demand.18 Nonetheless, even the economic decisions at times were taken with a political agenda in mind. Despite the assurances that “we have absolutely no complexes about dealing with Iran unlike some other countries,”19 the Armenian leadership did show some restraint given the uncertainty as to how it would affect its relationship with the United States. Despite the series of agreements between Rafsanjani and Hovannisian, in September 1992 Levon Ter-Petrosyan and Gerard Libaridian chose to purchase grain from Turkey and not from Iran. Yet, the stifling energy crisis, the blockade, and the growing feeling of isolation dissolved any reservations. The political and economic necessity to accommodate Iran was harmonized by the administration’s general familiarity and comfortableness with the region. Levon Ter-Petrosyan was born in Aleppo, Syria, the president’s adviser and subsequently the second foreign minister of the republic, Vahan Papazian was born in Iran, while his wife taught Persian in the Department of Iranian Studies at the Yerevan State University. While announcing Papazian’s appointment in March of 1993, the president specifically emphasized close relations with Iran as one of the priorities facing the new minister. While an adviser to the president, Vahan Papazian had stated that “it is incorrect to think out Christian neighbors will help us solve our problems.”20 The president and Papazian focused on developing Armenia’s Middle East direction in tandem. There was a noticeable surge in Yerevan’s foreign policy activities and as some observed, more autonomy was given to the foreign ministry versus the period of uneasy tension between the office of the president and Raffi Hovannisian.21 The Iranian pragmatism, on the other hand, slowly unfolded itself after Iran recognized Yerevan’s independence on December 25, 1991. On April 30, 1992, the Islamic Republic opened its embassy in Yerevan. On the surface the two countries had no contentious issues between them and no mutual suspicions. Informally, Iranian intellectual circles as well the upper echelons of the Iranian regime have favored Armenia in part because of cultural commonality, the “Aryan” element. The chargés d’affaires of Iran captured the substance of the emerging relationship, when he noted in a characteristic manner that “there doesn’t seem to be

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any reason for these relations not to be promising.”22 Beneath the surface there was much for the Iranian leadership to ponder as it approached the Southern Caucasus with its set of complex problems and security concerns. Some problems were an extension of Iran’s distinct international position and regional challenges; while others were rooted in the inherent contradictions caused by “a perennial struggle between aspirations and capabilities, hegemony and pragmatism [that] has characterized Iran’s uneasy approach to the Greater Middle East.”23 After the breakup of the Soviet Union, the Islamic Republic’s foreign policy was mainly aimed at vigorously affirming Iran’s regional role. However, this only reinforced the existing contradictions. On the one hand, Iran’s foreign policy remained to be determined by such constants as Iran’s unique geographic position, rich history, large energy resources, and special emphasis on national sovereignty and territorial integrity. The political developments in its immediate neighborhood posed legitimate concerns propelling Iran to play an important role commensurate with its status of a regional power. Yet, it had a limited room for maneuvering given its complicated relationship with the West. The collapse of the Soviet empire dealt a major blow to Iran’s security and strategic position. If before, Iran was considered a vital buffer state between the competing powers, with the disintegration of the USSR, its distinct position became an impediment for the regional powers striving for influence in Central Asia and Caucasus.24 In some ways, Iran’s position “in between” made its regional pariah status even more pronounced particularly considering the slowly escalating Western presence in the regions adjacent to Iran, both North (Caspian) and South (Persian Gulf ). Stemming principally from Iran’s confrontation with the West, this uncertainty has trickled down to Tehran’s policies in the Southern Caucasus and the Caspian, and its concrete strategic objectives in the region notwithstanding, created an image of somewhat reluctant engagement and inability to be fully present in regional constellations.25 The main areas of concentration of Iran’s policy in the Southern Caucasus became the following: the attainment of stability at its borders, through mediation and close monitoring of regional conflicts, particularly Nagorno-Karabakh; maximum prevention of the outside (U.S.) influence in the region; transportation of energy; and strengthening of regional transportation networks.26 This direction of Iran’s foreign policy illustrated high degree of pragmatism, most evident in Iran’s treatment of the Chechen conflict and Armenian-Azerbaijani relations: The Islamic republic had to balance its ties with Russia with its declared mission of exporting its revolutionary template to new, fertile grounds.

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In a unique display of judiciousness, Iran largely tempered its ideology, essentially denoting the importance of trade and stability of propagation of its Islamic message.27

Pragmatism, which distinguished Iran in all of its policies toward the region from the onset of its independence asserted Tehran first and foremost as a status quo power in a stark contrast with its internationally perceived role as a revisionist state in other areas of its foreign policy. Hence, the Iranian and Armenian quests both rooted in their acute insecurity and isolation in the region bore a momentum for striking a partnership. These larger objectives coincided in the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. As Edmund Herzig notes, the Karabakh conflict has been the most serious threat to Iran’s security emanating from the north since the 1940s.28 The emergence of an independent republic of Azerbaijan immediately adjacent to the Iranian province with the same name resurrected the trauma of the Soviet intervention of 1946 and the experience of the breakaway Mehabad republic. The menace was exacerbated by the fact that the issue of the reunification occupied a prominent role in Azerbaijan’s postindependence discourse.29 As early as 1990, Graham Fuller predicted that “as the long inactive nationalisms of the Caucasus begin to rumble, Moscow and Tehran could be the big losers. Azerbaijan’s strategic location at the juncture of the Soviet Union, Armenia, Iran and Turkey means that its politics and aspirations will affect nearly all players in the region.”30 Iran felt the threat emanating from its northern borders as early as December 1989 when a number of Azerbaijani protesters knocked down the fence separating the two countries. The existence of the Azerbaijani irredentist threat gave the conflict a dual significance. On the one hand, it clearly posed a threat to Iran’s security as both sides involved were its immediate neighbors. On the other hand, it allowed Tehran to immediately make its voice heard vis-à-vis Russia but mainly Turkey and most importantly use it as a pressure lever on Azerbaijan. It is this duality that characterized Iran’s position from day one. Adding to the preexisting tensions with Baku was the dispute over the legal status of the Caspian Sea. After 1991, the Soviet-Iranian Treaty of March 25, 1940, on the division of the Caspian Sea was no longer considered legal as a result of the emergence of several Caspian states each claiming a share in its vast energy and fishing resources. The Caspian was bound to attract foreign powers to the region completing Iran’s encirclement. It is no surprise then that the Caspian direction became one of the locus points of Iran’s foreign policy while the Southern Caucasus, to an extent, has become a derivative of that.31

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The Nagorno-Karabakh conflict presented the Iranian leadership with a major dilemma. Tehran had to balance its foreign policy not only between concrete security objectives and its ideological commitments but also between Armenia and Azerbaijan to acquire the credibility of a regional power to be reckoned with. The Azerbaijani minority as well as the general public were predisposed toward Azerbaijan and were calling on Rafsanjani’s government to fulfill its duty toward its Shia brothers against “the Armenian infidels.”32 Religious affinity, ethnic ties, and shared history seemed to create a favorable climate for the emergence of special relations between Azerbaijan and Iran. As the Iranian newspaper Abrar commented back in 1992, “After its occupation of Cyprus, Turkey divided the island into two sectors. Iran should not allow Turkey to do the same with Azerbaijan. We should take steps to encourage the Azerbaijani Muslims to be more active in their relationship with Iran.”33 At the early stages, the neutral position assumed by Tehran became an expression of a real unease about the consequences of the conflict on its own security and with a constant eye for avoiding of any military involvement. Iran’s official announcement about its intention to mediate in the conflict came in February 1992 during foreign minister Ali Akbar Velayati’s trip to Yerevan and Baku. In addition, the minister expressed Tehran’s willingness to assist Armenia in its initial steps in the admission process for the membership in the United Nations. In March 1992, during his visit to the Southern Caucasus, deputy foreign minister Mahmood Vaezi presented Levon Ter-Petrosyan with a package of proposals regarding a ceasefire that had been previously approved by the Azerbaijani side. One of the points of the package was the Iranian participation in the control over the ceasefire. Since both sides at the time saw in Iran a credible partner with an untainted reputation unlike Russia and Turkey, Tehran was able to broker the signing of March 16, 1992, Trilateral Tehran Communiqué (Iran, Armenia, and Azerbaijan), envisaging a one-week cease-fire in the conflict zone.34 After Iranian deputy foreign minister’s visit to Stepanakert and shuttle diplomacy in the region,35 the conflicting sides signed what came to be known as Tehran Declaration on the ceasefire in May 1992. However, just while the Armenian and the Azerbaijani presidents were meeting in Tehran, the Armenian forces in Nagorno-Karabakh captured the strategic city of Shushi on May 9 delivering a major blow to Azerbaijani military positions. The Armenian administration rushed to explain that it had no warning about the impeding attack. While it is difficult to imagine that the president was never exposed to the idea of the capture of Shushi, the timing was unexpected. It made obvious the audacity of the Armenian forces on the ground and lack of Yerevan’s control over the situation;

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“the fact remains that Shushi was attacked while President Ter-Petrosyan was out of the country, in Iran, leading Armenia’s senior delegation to date, for a meeting with Azerbaijan’s President Yagub Mamidov.”36 Upon receiving the news, the Iranian’s side assumed that the talks ended in failure; however after negotiations the cease-fire was nevertheless concluded to be eventually breached again by another Armenian offensive.37 The capture of Shushi and Iranian Foreign Ministry’s decision to continue the talks was severely criticized in Iran. The Iranian daily Salam wrote: “The Armenians have proved that they do not keep any promises and that they took advantage of the opportunity (prepared for them by our diplomacy) for rearmament.”38 Tehran did not shy away from condemning both sides for their belligerence at least in the beginning of the conflict. In July 1993, Ali Khamenei condemned the Armenian capture of Aghdam in his speech in Tabriz: “The government of Armenia and the Armenians of Karabakh are oppressing the Muslims of the region, and we denounce the recent actions by the Armenians of Karabakh who acted with the support of the government of Armenia. We also expect the Armenians in our country to denounce these actions.”39 These remarks occurred against Heydar Aliyev’s visible rapprochement with Iran after the fall of the Aboulfaz Elchibey’s Popular Front and under the pressure of Iran’s Azerbaijani population. During the battle over Fizuli, the Azerbaijani ambassador to Iran asked for “material and spiritual assistance” from Iran.40 When in August 1993, Armenian forces advanced into Kelbajar, the Iranians forwarded a telegram to the Armenian Foreign Ministry stating that the situation directly threatens Iran’s security while demanding Armenian withdrawal. Armenian actions were termed as an “aggression.” 41 Students from various universities in Tehran rallied in front of the Armenian embassy demanding the immediate withdrawal of the Armenian forces. They also called for the increase in Iran’s military support to Azerbaijan. After another Armenian offensive in Lachin, pamphlets were handed out in Tabriz secretly calling on the Azerbaijanis to support their brothers in Azerbaijan. The situation was somewhat tense and the Iranian police was given orders to protect the Armenian population of the Iranian Azerbaijan.42 When the Armenian units approached the Nakhichevani border, Western diplomats in Tehran were reporting that President Rafsanjani came under pressure from the parliament: “Some factions— from both sides of the political divide—want a more principled stand for Iran in this conflict … They want Armenia more clearly condemned.”43 One of the major concerns was the issue of refugees that would be a major logistical burden for Iran. The Iranian troops crossed Arax River, causing a strong Russian reaction.44 On diplomatic front, Tehran joined

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Ankara in appealing to the UN Security Council to condemn Armenian actions. In response, the Armenian foreign ministry assured the Iranians that there would be no further escalation concerning Nakhichevan. One of the most important outcomes of the crisis was Russia’s unequivocal message to Iran that good relations will be derived from Iran’s acceptance of the Caucasus as Moscow’s sphere of influence. Overall, this first stage of the engagement between Yerevan and Tehran was very much a period of grappling with new geopolitical realities forced upon them through such extraordinary changes. Iran demonstrated goodwill that was not shaken either by the Armenian military audacity, at times even undermining Iran’s mediation efforts, or even the shooting down of an Iranian C-130 in the environs of Stepanakert by the Armenian forces, resulting in the death of thirty-four people. It also became clear that not only did Armenia needed Iran, but Iran also needed Armenia to pressure Azerbaijan and establish a reliable partnership in an otherwise volatile neighborhood. The regional states still lacked strong alliance dynamics, and the major players’ policies were somewhat in an amorphous, transformational stage, which allowed Iran to play an active role. Unfortunately, “Iran lacked the necessary means or leverage to force the belligerents to make a compromise. Even though both countries understood Iran’s concerns and accepted its role as a mediator, they never felt compelled to accept its negotiation proposals.”45 The second stage of the relationship began in 1995 with the signing of the Armenia-Iran gas pipeline agreement. At the end of 1992, the Iranian-Armenian relations witnessed significant improvement. In December, the Armenian delegation in Tehran struck a series of agreements with the Iranian government, the most important one being on the construction of a gas pipeline. Iran also agreed to transfer heating oil and grain received from Russia in Enzeli on the Caspian Sea to Armenia. On January 29, 1993, Iranian fuel entered Armenia for the first time, an event extremely important both in its objective and psychological effects on the Armenian society that had been virtually cut off from the outside world and left with no power in the midst of freezing winter temperatures. The energy sphere presented a promising level-playing field, in which Tehran and Yerevan could combine their efforts at fighting off isolation and looking for alternatives. With the ceasefire came a form of semistability within the region. Nonetheless, amid increasing interest of the outside powers and Russia in the vast resources and geographic location of the region, Armenia remained isolated. The most politically stable among the regional states, it was becoming marginalized, particularly with the signing of the Deal of the Century between Azerbaijan and Western oil companies. The second half of the

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1990s became an era of oil and gas, and pipeline politics. As early as 1992, Iran had come out with an initiative to create the Organization of Regional Cooperation among Caspian states. Thereafter, Iran continuously expressed its reluctance to allow for the division of the Caspian without taking into consideration its interests. Aside from geopolitical considerations, Iran has financial reasons to take the issue of the Caspian very seriously.46 The question of pipelines was the most important consideration, given that the passage of pipelines from Caspian through the Iranian territory to the Persian Gulf would be financially lucrative to Iran and more feasible and cheap. Iran’s intractability in the legal settlement of the Caspian Sea status has to do also with the fact that if the Iranian proposal about equal division of the sea is realized, it would acquire 20 percent of Caspian floor instead of the 8 percent envisioned by divisions based on the middle line propagated by the majority of Caspian states. The precipitous drop in oil prices in 1994 dealt a serious blow to Iran’s revenues. President Rafsanjani and the more pragmatic-minded in his government recognized that their first priority must be to revive Iran’s ailing economy. Since 1995, Iran became very active in promoting itself as an alternative route for Caspian oil and Central Asian gas for both financial and geopolitical reasons. One can state with certainty that both objectives failed. In the Deal of the Century, Iran was given only a 10 percent share, while most of the pipeline projects between Iran and Central Asian countries were undermined by Russia and Turkey. Offers were extended to Turkmenistan and Kazakhstan to consider Iran as an alternative oil and gas transport route. In September 1994, at a conference on Energy Cooperation in Central Asia and the Caucasus held in Tehran, a proposal was made to export Kazakhstan crude via a pipeline through Iran.47 In 1995, Turkmenistan and Iran signed a formal agreement to build a gas pipeline between Korpedzhe to Kurt-Kui in Mazenderan, which was envisioned as a first step toward building a comprehensive pipeline system from Turkmenistan to Turkey and then to Europe. The Armenian-Iranian pipeline formalized around the same time was projected as another potential route from Iran to Europe. By the virtue of its acute need of Iranian gas and escape from isolation as well as Iran’s geopolitical objectives, Armenia’s relationship with Iran in the energy sphere became contextualized in the multiple levels of power play between various regional states. At the time of the signing of the pipeline agreement, similar to Turkmenistan’s Korpedzhe to Kurt-Kui pipeline, the “size of the project was so small that they [Iranians] were able to view it as a form of developmental aid, effectively offered to cement relations between the two states.”48 A local pipeline certainly would not satisfy Iran’s geopolitical ambition, and hence there had always been an

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understanding that a 140 km stretch could potentially become a part of a larger network making Armenia a transit country. In the energy sphere, Iran also continued to provide Armenia with electricity formalized in 1996 agreement switching of the Iranian power transmitting lines to Armenia’s power grid. The year 1996 became important in Yerevan’s relations with Tehran mainly in the economic sphere, a development characterized by the Armenian president as a “qualitative” change. The Iranian ambassador in turn referred to the ties as “ideal.”49 The economic cooperation was certainly active; Iran became the second largest investor in the Armenian economy. Myriads of joint ventures were opened in Yerevan and across Armenia. The city saw a major influx of Iranian businessmen purchasing real estate both for personal and business purposes. To service the growing Iranian expatriate community, Iranian bank Mellat opened its branch in Yerevan. Lacking in this relationship was a political dimension. Iran’s role as a “symbolic” friend and an alternative supplier was beginning to loose its initial momentum as the geostrategic map of the Caucasus was beginning to crystallize and as Yerevan formalized its military alliance with Moscow. In 1997 the larger Middle East region saw the formation of the IsraeliTurkish military alliance. Clearly, this was the most unsettling development for Tehran and to some extent for Armenia. Simultaneously, the United States displayed more vigor and interest in the region, first by becoming one of the Co-Chairmen of the Minsk Group in early 1997, followed by National Security Adviser Sandy Berger’s announcement in March 1997 about Washington’s intent to activate its policy toward Central Asia and Southern Caucasus. The same year, Strobe Talbott referred to both as “strategically vital regions.”50 It is during this period that Armenia’s language of moderation and mediation became a source of unease on the part of Tehran. Yerevan’s position reflected Vartan Oskanian’s, then the editor of the Armenian International Magazine (AIM) earlier assessment of Armenia’s potential role as “a stabilizing factor in the Middle East.”51 In a 1992 article in AIM the future foreign minister noted that “by cultivating ties with states in conflict with each other, it [Armenia] may play a useful diplomatic role.”52 Deriving from exactly this position, during his visit to Israel in November 1998, Minister Oskanian directly clashed with Iran’s expectations from Armenia. During the press conference, answering questions from journalists, the foreign minister proposed to “promote building a bridge over the abyss lying between Israel and Iran.”53 What he meant was a symbolic gesture and a clear evocation of the same language of mediation to illustrate that Armenia had no problems to conduct simultaneous relations both

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with Israel and the Arab World, Israel and Iran. The Iranian embassy in Yerevan reacted by indicating that the minister’s remarks were out of line and calling on Armenia to follow the principle of “my friend is your friend, my enemy is your enemy.”54 Armenia’s friendly relations with Iran have often been used as a cornerstone of Yerevan’s rhetoric of balance and doctrine of complementarity promoted by Vartan Oskanian. On the mental map of the Armenian leadership, Iran was the East not the South. What other country was better suited to play the role of the antagonist to the West that Yerevan was ready to accommodate in demonstrating its “neutrality”? Wherever the flexible borderline between East and West shifts, Armenia and/or the Armenians are in some mysterious ways right there, as if waiting to become intermediates between the newly distributed East and West. Usually this happens against their will, Armenians are as if doomed to become intermediates, but sometimes it becomes a point of political strategy, as it is, for instance, in the case of present-day Armenia’s ambiguous intermediate position between Iran (South [East]) and Russia (North[West]).55

Armenia was to conduct balanced relations with East and West at a minimal cost. President Kocharyan made it clear when he stated at the onset of his presidency that “we certainly do not have to find ourselves caught on the sharp edge of contradictions.”56 Paradoxically, this rhetoric of normalcy against the backdrop of an acute security dilemma was reminiscent of Iran’s perceived role in the region as that of “a stabilizing force” despite deep contradictions on other fronts. Hence both in Armenia and Iran, normalcy coexisted with the lack of normalcy, an indication of isolation and marginalization. As a senior foreign ministry official noted, “in today’s predicament, were we bordering on South Korea, we would have showered it with friendliness too. However our history with Iran helps, of course.”57 The balancing act constantly required explaining to both poles about Yerevan’s actual intentions. With the emergence of clear linkage between Turkey-Israel-United States, on the one hand, and Azerbaijan and Georgia on the other, Western strategists increasingly perceived Armenian-Russian and Armenian-Iranian cooperation as a triangular partnership in the making. Hence, when Greece, Iran, and Armenia began regular negotiations in 1995–1996, it could not but be seen as an actualizing anti-NATO arch in spite of Armenia’s assurances and Russia’s formal announcement that it is not to form a military pact with Iran.58 The link between Israel, Turkey, and Azerbaijan, and the increasing

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reliance of Azerbaijan on the Israeli lobby in Washington illustrated that the Caucasus was “increasingly being integrated into the security situation of the Middle East.”59 Armenia’s good relations with Syria that developed independently of the emerging geopolitical constellations had been seen as another link in the axis. One needs to remember, however, that this relationship with Syria was cultivated due to the close personal links of Levon Ter-Petrosyan and other Armenian high-ranking officials with Aleppo very early on. Conforming to Ter-Petrosyan’s expectations, Iran and Syria provided Armenia with necessary backing in the Islamic world even without strategic treaties. Within Athens-Tehran-Yerevan trilateral cooperation format, there was much speculation although all parties stressed that the cooperation was not directed against anyone. Much of Iran-Armenia-Greece cooperation was articulated through the “bridge” talk, namely, that for Iran and Armenia, Greece was a bridge to Europe, and Iran and Armenia were a bridge to the Caucasus and Middle East for Greece. For Armenia, Greece truly was another link to Europe in energy, transport, and communications as its border with Turkey remained closed. In 1997, these three countries signed a Treaty on Friendship and Cooperation, which included an agreement of cooperation in the military sphere. It was reported at the time, that not long before the visit by the Armenian delegation, the Greek defense minister announced that his country intends to develop a military partnership with Syria, Iran, Iraq, Armenia, Bulgaria, and Russia, “that is, with all countries that have problems with Turkey.”60 The treaty was perceived as directed against Turkey and although Armenia denied joining any military block, the Greek ambassador to Armenia Panayotis Zografos told Armenian news agency Snark that “the creation of axis could lead to the appearance of counter-axis.”61 Yet, the Armenian foreign policy elite consistently expressed their rejection of such a foreign policy option and any possibility of Armenia joining any triangular military alliance. The Armenian foreign minister announced the same year that Armenia has no plans to join a proposed three-way defense alliance with Iran and Greece: “[O]ur tri-lateral co-operation started with economic matters and we intend to keep it that way.”62 At this juncture, Armenia was coming close to stirring up American discontent with its policies and had to proceed wisely. The Clinton administration was closely monitoring this relationship with Iran, and occasionally sending signals when Yerevan was getting too close to the red line. The Armenian foreign ministry officials were being frequently asked to brief the U.S. embassy in Yerevan regarding Iran policy. Much of Armenia’s ability to maintain the intricate balance in its simultaneous relations with two antagonists was Yerevan’s consistency in rhetoric and

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behavior armed with the activities of the Armenian lobby on Capitol Hill. The Armenian organizations were able to depict Armenia’s economic crisis in the most dramatic tones. This provided an important context for the Congress to understand Yerevan’s reliance on Tehran for the provision of alternative energy sources as natural and inevitable. Occasionally however, there were tensions. In March 2000, the Iranian embassy in Armenia was stirred up by the statements made by the visiting Department of Commerce counselor Jan Kalicki, who expressed America’s dissatisfaction with Armenian dependence on Iran’s energy supplies. It issued a counterstatement that the American official was “openly interfering in issues pertinent to the region … Some forces in faraway countries have mixed the Caucasus up with the Caribbean states and think that, proceeding from the Monroe Doctrine and using monetary and financial policy, they can establish control over the world, which is stepping towards freedom and democracy.”63 The most prominent target of American dissatisfaction with the Iranian activities in the region was the energy issue. In 1999, the U.S. Trade and Development Agency announced about its decision to provide $750,000 to the Turkmen government to finance a feasibility study of an alternative gas pipeline that would be laid beneath the Caspian Sea, via Baku-Tbilisi-Erzerum line, parallel to Baku-Ceyhan oil pipeline in order to avoid transiting through either Russia or Iran.64 Eventually realizing that the strong U.S. opposition would not allow larger Turkmenistan-IranTurkey pipeline to be realized, Safarmurat Niazov backed down from the initial plans with the Iranians. On the Armenian front, the United States showed fair amount of tolerance considering the heavy conditions of the blockade. Despite this, the construction of the Armenian-Iranian gas pipeline termed by one observer as having “the doubtful glory of being one of the most hapless projects in the post-Soviet area,” and known for its “monstrous tardiness,”65 was to a great extent hampered by the United States. The foreign investors had little interest in financing a small pipeline, while the prospects of extending it to Turkey had little hope given the unfavorable climate.66 Another option that had been given a great deal of consideration was Iran-Armenia-Georgia-Crimea-Europe route. The Ukrainians openly stated their interest in the project because a transit pipeline from Armenia would provide the shortest route from Iran to Ukraine.67 The failure of both of these projects was ironically caused not only by Washington but also, to a greater extent, by Moscow, which was Iran’s greatest adversary when it came to gas exports to Europe. It seems that because the prospects of making Armenia a transit country for its gas were appearing dim, Tehran did consider the project as a kind of charity extended to Armenia, but a charity given at a very

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high cost. The Iranians intended to sell their gas at the world price, which Armenia simply could not afford. This caused much aggravation among the Armenian leadership who expected Tehran to be more forthcoming especially considering Iranian assurances of Armenia’s special place in its regional foreign policy. After very long negotiations, and protracted discussions, both sides reached a compromise whereby Iranians would sell the Turkmen gas at a significantly lower cost.68 Russia’s Gazprom, the National Gas Company of Iran, and Gaz de France were announced to be the biggest participants of an international consortium that will finance the construction with the cost of $120 million. The total length was to be 140 km, of which 100 km would be laid in Iran from Tabriz, and the remaining 40 in Armenia.69 Another obstacle to the full realization of Yerevan’s economic expectations was the high import tariffs that hindered Armenian manufacturers from entering the Iranian market. This was hardly an expression of Iran’s deliberate policy toward Armenia and was rather a consequence of regime’s stringent protectionism. In any case, the growing consensus in Yerevan was that Tehran was hesitant in pursuing more forthcoming policy toward Armenia and that the relationship in its current form did not match with the rhetoric surrounding it. There was an inconsistency between language and actual behavior that revealed deliberation and a “wait and see” attitude. While both sides often called their relations “strategic” and “crucial” there was still no formal political agreement, or strategic treaty, framing the economic cooperation. This hesitation among Iranians was caused by several factors. The Iranian government perceived the Kocharyan’s administration as pro-Western and pro-American, and ready to pursue closer relations with Washington in exchange for security guarantees. Most importantly, Tehran was extremely apprehensive of any settlement involving possible territorial exchanges of borderline zones such as southernmost part of Armenia, Meghri.70 With the purpose of injecting an uncertain situation with a degree of predictability and control, Tehran even allegedly embarked on cajoling the Karabakh leadership into pursuing its own independent position and distancing itself from Yerevan. After the end of hostilities in Nagorno-Karabakh, Iranians were skeptical about both the fate of the breakaway republic and the ability of the Armenian leadership to withstand the international pressure. It has been reported that the Iranians were providing material support to Stepanakert in 1996–1997 and Iranian traders were omnipresent in the territories. Interestingly enough, like in Armenia, the Iranian traders in Nagorno-Karabakh were ethnic Azerbaijaniss from Tabriz and surrounding regions, yet another example of pragmatism amid ethnic resentment. The evidence of the Iranian presence is lyrically described by Thomas de Waal through the

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eyewitness account: “An Armenian friend described to me how he went to the ravaged city of Aghdam … and saw the Felliniesque sight of men filling a line of flat-top Iranian trucks to the brim with rose petals. The petals came from the thousands of rosebushes scrambling over the ruins of the deserted town, and the Iranians bought them to make jam.”71 One of the policies utilized by Tehran apart from the material support was to increase its influence through pushing the appointments of pro-Iranian figures and former Iranian citizens to key administrative positions. One such appointee was allegedly the head of the local administration in Kelbajar, an Iranian citizen and a member of Dashnaktsutyun Party, Serge Amirkhanyan.72 There have even been reports about Iranians conducting anti-Russian propaganda among the Karabakh military; the Karabakhis expressed a protest to the Iranian authorities in the fall of 1997. It has been also alleged that in May 2000, Iranians were aiding Dashnaktsutyun in attaining seats in the May 2000 parliamentary elections in NKR. The leadership of the republic on the other hand sought to receive some firm guarantees of Tehran’s support in agriculture, irrigation, and energy supply. This was encapsulated in a formal proposal by the government read out by an Armenian parliamentarian Vartan Vartanian at a closed session of majlis.73 This policy of the support of Nagorno-Karabakh republic along with the preservation of the status quo and positions on the ground without territorial exchanges has been the core of the Iranian post-1998 position. In 1999–2000, one of the main issues of concern for the Iranians became the possible resumption of railway communication between Turkey and Azerbaijan through Nakhichevan discussed between Aliyev and Kocharyan. This became a threatening development to Iran considering an enthusiastic support of the United States and the European Union, which offered $150 million to rehabilitate the railroad. Apprehensive of any such settlement, the Iranian leadership saw it only as a logical step to directly engage the leadership of the breakaway republic to prevent a two-way resolution. Nevertheless, Iran has maintained its interest in serving as a mediator to the conflict. Same year Iran offered to mediate in the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict reprimanding Baku for ignoring its numerous proposals: “Which country has such an advantage? Why can a state from the other end of the world take part in the talks on the settlement of this conflict, but we cannot?”74 During the Key West Talks in April 2001, the Co-Chairmen of the Minsk Group announced that it would be appropriate to inform Tehran of the contents of the negotiations considering Tehran’s history of mediation. While Tehran’s reaction to the message was positive, Baku responded with suspicion in Iran’s intentions

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and there were even rumors that Iran’s ambassador to Armenia had been appointed as a special representative in consultations with the Minsk Group, which turned out to be untrue.75 The 9/11 incident dramatically affected Armenia’s perceived status in the region. In the newly unfolding geopolitical conundrum, it was no longer seen by Iran as a bordering territory and to an extent a problematic partner but as a significant geopolitical player in the bigger game between Russia, the United States, and Europe. This resulted in a new rhetoric of “strategic” cooperation.76 The substance behind new language has remained somewhat murky. It is clear that for Armenia, the term “strategic relations” should be placed within the context of its isolation. Iran is a geostrategic partner in its capacity as Armenia’s “only connection to the outside world.”77 The 2001 guidelines published by the Foreign Ministry states that the “country’s economic security, energy needs and strategic concerns converge in its view of the importance of Iran: Iran plays a role of balancer vis-à-vis Turkey; Iran actively participates in the creation of the multilateral economic cooperation frameworks, such as Armenia-Greece-Iran; Armenia’s relations with Iran, in its entirety (in the conditions of Armenia’s blockade by Turkey and Azerbaijan) are important from the standpoint of country’s economic security and are a guarantee of alternative [emphasis by the author] relations with the outside world.78 In December 2001, Robert Kocharyan traveled to Iran on his first official trip where he met with the top Iranian leadership. There he also met with the Armenian community of Tehran and made remarks that Nagorno-Karabakh will never return to Azerbaijan’s jurisdiction. His comments caused a wave of protest in the Azerbaijani press, particularly toward Iran. The perception in Baku was that such statements made in Tehran by the Armenian president indicated Iranian complicity.79 The level of the Armenian-Iranian entente was more an impression than reality. Despite Yerevan’s assurances of its impartiality, both Washington and Tehran have been sensitive to the position of “complementarity,” and both have expressed their dissatisfaction with Yerevan’s position. As a result of this ongoing balancing act, officials in Yerevan have been very cautions in their rhetoric and diplomatic activity. In March 2002, as an expression of such policy line, the Armenian defense minister Serzh Sarkisian met with his U.S. and Iranian counterparts within a matter of two weeks. During his visit to Armenia, Iranian defense minister Ali Shamkhani expressed Tehran’s willingness to extend “special relations with its sole Christian neighbor into the area of defense.”80 Armenia and Iran signed a military cooperation accord, which as they specified, would be limited to the officer exchanges and army supplies.81 Washington

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occasionally reminded Yerevan that it had been watching its relations with Iran carefully. For instance, in March 2002, the U.S. ambassador to Armenia John Ordway had expressed concern with Yerevan’s close economic relations by stating: “We understand Armenia’s economic difficulties, but at the same time we don’t support any investment in the construction of the gas pipeline through Iran.”82 In May 2002, the State Department made a decision to impose sanctions against the Armenian company Lysine. The company was charged in selling sensitive equipment such as fermentation vats and big tanks of stainless steel. They were used to cultivate strains of germs to produce lysine. It was argued that the equipment sold could be used to produce dangerous pathogenic microbes. Ambassador Ordway issued a warning that Yerevan has gone too far in its relations with Iran.83 The Iranian ambassador to Iran described this step as “nothing other than an attempt to wield psychological control over relations between Armenia and Iran.”84 As one Armenian official explained “the Americans were never happy with our cooperation with Iran. But until recently, they were quite cautious in voicing their objections. They are now following Armenian-Iranian contacts more closely and have already narrowed our freedom of action on that front.”85 It is no surprise then that during the Iranian energy minister Habibollah Bitaraf ’s visit to Armenia in July 2002 the Armenian energy ministry issued a statement that would forestall American protest that not a “single Armenian organization is cooperating with Iran on constructing the Bushehr plant … Armenia in fact has no agreements with Iran on cooperation in the nuclear energy sphere at all.”86 Occasionally, Tehran also expressed its unease with Armenia’s attempt to balance between the two opponents. In September 2002, the Iranian ambassador to Armenia Mohammad Farhad Koleini openly challenged Armenia’s complementarity with a “serious breach of diplomatic ethics,” in his exchange with Vartan Oskanian. Armenia lacks resources and international clout to continue to pursue its “complementary” foreign policy of maintaining good relations with the West, Russia, Iran and other major powers. Don’t you think it would be more correct to describe [your policy] as a multilateral dialogue, rather than use word “complementarism”?87

The post-9/11 discourse made Yerevan’s policy of balance more challenging. One of the most dramatic consequences immediately affecting Armenia’s position was the new escalation between the United States and Iran. Armenia viewed these developments with unease because the

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territorial integrity of Iran and its domestic stability is one of the main guarantors of Armenia’s security. Stability in Iran through the preservation of the regime was considered more advantageous for Armenia than the rise of nationalism along ethnic lines, which can create serious tension on Iran’s northern border.88 Any action against Iran will involve the stationing of U.S. troops in the Caucasus, and can potentially destabilize the region. Official Yerevan expressed its unwillingness to sacrifice its good relations with Iran for the sake of U.S. interests: “Armenia is ready to do much for the USA in the South Caucasus, but there are tasks it cannot tackle,” the foreign minister Oskanian stated.89 Armenia’s refusal to back the Iraqi campaign, among other things, reflected its concern with possible effects of war on Iran and the region at large, and official Yerevan did not hesitate to state that “Armenia determines the nature of diplomatic relations with other countries, their establishment and suspension on its own, on the basis of its needs and interests.”90 Tehran has been understandably nervous about Armenia’s ties with the West, which it perceived as deepening. Iraq crisis and greater U.S. plans to neutralize “rogue states” in the region has revealed the acuteness of the Azerbaijan problem for Iran. The willingness of some in Washington to use Azerbaijani irredentist movement to destabilize Iran domestically cannot but make Tehran extremely cautious, and consequentially negatively affect its relations with Baku.91 Baku accused Tehran of supporting oppositional Islamic party as well as the Special Forces under the leadership of Mahir Javadov who has been condemned in Azerbaijan for plotting a coup d’etat and has been given an asylum in Iran. On the other hand, Iran accused Azerbaijan of hosting in its territory the National Liberation Movement of Southern Azerbaijan. Iranian politicians also believe that Baku is committing a historical mistake by allowing the United States into the region. It is also extremely troubled by Baku’s developing relationship with Israel.92 Keeping the outside powers out became one of the central directions in Iranian diplomacy in the post-9/11 period toward the region. In April 2003, Iran’s foreign minister on his tour in Southern Caucasus signaled Iran’s renewed effort to strengthen its position in the region, and reaffirm itself as a regional power. This was mostly expressed in “3 + 3” security framework proposed by Iran, which included Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan, and three regional powers—Russia, Iran, and Turkey.93 Armenia has expressed its readiness to participate. In theory, it would have benefited from any regional integration processes particularly in the security sphere. However, both Georgia and Azerbaijan announced that they do not envision the creation of a regional framework, which excludes the United State and the EU. Azerbaijani foreign minister

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reiterated the “impossibility of security in the Caucasus without the role of Euro-Atlantic structures”94. It is clear that the possibility of such structure was remote considering the unresolved conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan and tensions between Russia and Georgia. Iran’s initiative should be perceived more as a symbolic gesture to demonstrate that the Southern Caucasus is a clearly demarcated security complex, which should be kept in balance by the efforts of regional states and neighboring powers without an outside interference by the Western actors, particularly the United States. Iran accepts Russia’s primacy in the Caucasus and its policies, to a large extent, converge with the Russian ones. As one observer remarked, “Russia and Iran have different geopolitical pasts and similar geopolitical present.”95 In this regard, Iran is keen to pursue a policy of regionalism and insists that the fate of the region should be decided by “local” powers. Clearly, this position finds much sympathy and support in Russia; “if Russia views U.S. influence in the region as pernicious, Iran views U.S. policy in the Caspian Sea as hostile.”96 Both Russia and Iran meet the pressures from the West with pragmatism, through economic and trade expansion, active search for energy markets, military partnership with China, and the basic convergence of interests around the issue of the Caspian Sea. This was clearly reiterated in an interview of Iran’s ambassador to Russia G. Shafei: “[T]he Islamic Republic of Iran, like Russia, is against the presence of military bases of non-regional states on the territory of neighboring states.”97 It would be a mistake however, to perceive Iran as replicating Russia’s position in the region. Iran is less dependent on the Caspian reserves than Russia and has different priorities as highlighted above. Yerevan-Tehran relationship highlights most powerfully the intersection between the global and local, and the tactical coincidence of interests of the two regional giants—Russia and Iran. One of the fundamental features of the geopolitical quest of Armenia, Russia, and Iran is its emphasis on territory and protection of borders. As former empires, Russian and Iran look at territoriality as the most “significant form of power” and they look at the Southern Caucasus as their legitimate sphere of influence.98 Both were historically very involved in the region. Therefore the spatial aspect and the emphasis on the protection of their frontiers are essential for understanding the driving force behind their foreign policies. Despite the Iranian rhetoric, its security and foreign policy outlook is not ideologically driven (with the exception of question of Palestine). The Armenian quest for territory, on the other hand, is rooted in her smallness, and the fear of ethnic annihilation and the spiritual significance of land in its national thinking and historical memory. The Nagorno-Karabakh

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conflict and the rhetoric of land and nationalism inherent in the Armenian view of the issue is the most vivid example. This particular vulnerability moves the Armenian policies toward more engagement with Iran. The chairman of the parliamentary committee for foreign relations Shahen Petrosyan captured this well when he acknowledged back in 1993 that “Armenia fears expansionism, not fundamentalism.” “Isolation” is the world that lurks behind Armenia’s relations with Iran. Iran’s current isolation is reminiscent of Armenia’s own diplomatic stalemate. Pointing to the unresolved disputes between Iran and certain Gulf states, an Armenian diplomat comments that “Iran never allowed itself to make belligerent pronouncements, stressing negotiation approach as the only method for resolving all its problems.”99 Iran’s balanced regional foreign policy despite its confrontation with Iraq in the 1980s and its economic success amid its political isolation confirms and resonates with Armenia’s own official foreign policy discourse built around the rhetoric of “balance,” “negotiation,” and “economic growth” in the conditions of the blockade. As Mohiaddin Mesbahi notes, Armenia’s carefully implemented doctrine of positive neutrality, reflected in good relations with Iran and avoidance of band-wagoning with antiIslamic, anti-Iranian regional and global discourse (in spite of the U.S. pressure), along with accommodating Russian-Iranian relations, have helped to construct a complex context within which Iranian-Armenian relations have developed and survived the obvious pressure for closer ties with Azerbaijan, especially in view of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict and its damaging impact on Iran-Azeri relations.100

Despite the incompleteness in relations acknowledged by Iranians and Armenian alike, despite the sluggishness in developing a solid partnership, and a certain degree of mistrust, Tehran and Yerevan understand each other’s legitimate concerns and rules of the game. Yerevan is accepting of Iran’s need to balance between Armenia and Azerbaijan as formulated in the “Foreign Policy Guidelines” despite Tehran’s often two-faced positions.101 There is permanence in their mutual perceptions that is devoid of temporal and opportunistic elements, which allows one to speak of this relationship as strategic despite the lack of serious military treaty. In June 2004, in a meeting between Hassan Rowhani, the Secretary of Supreme National Security Council (SNSC) and Artashes Tumanyan, the chief of the Armenian presidential office, the Iranian official asserted that the SNSC supports deepening Armenian-Iranian relations. While Tumanyan noted that the level of the cooperation is not satisfactory as it develops on a very slow scale. Iran has a special status in Armenia’s foreign

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policy. This meeting became a precursor of President Khatami’s visit to Armenia that was termed as a friendly response to Robert Kocharyan’s trip to Iran in December 2001. It was an important visit for Yerevan and obviously very important for Iran as the president was accompanied by the foreign, economy, commerce, and road and transportation ministers.102 The Armenian opposition that was boycotting the parliament at the time suspended its action to attend the Iranian president’s speech at the National Assembly.103 Economy, particularly in the energy sphere, has remained to be the main thrust of the discussions.104 Civilizational rhetoric used by the Armenian public officials to characterize both its relationship with the East and the West mirrors the existing discourse to use “civilizations” as a political category. As the chief adviser to the ex-foreign minister has noted, “[T]his language is extremely important.”105 This rhetoric is indeed a powerful one as admittedly not every country can use it. It places Armenia in a different category, elevating its status from an obscure small nation to a country rhetorically equal or at least more familiar to more powerful states; Armenia was simultaneously a contemporary to the Persian Empire and stood at the roots of Christianity and therefore, the Western tradition. In this light, civilizational ties between Armenia and Iran articulated on the public level and expressed through Iranian cultural presence in the form of an extensive and well-known Iranian studies program become a form of a political capital that is used to substantiate what is missing at the present stage. What is absent is readiness on both sides to take the relationship to a different level due the political and cultural factors outlined above. Civilizational language is used to turn rhetorically Armenia’s weakness into strength and smallness into grandeur. Whether there is a disjuncture between the academic community and the policy-makers is not crucial for the purpose of this analysis. One is acutely aware of the other, and the cultural “capital” is being actively used by the political figures to articulate a discourse that would elevate the importance of Armenian-Iranian relations in the hierarchy of current Armenian foreign policy directions. The political consequence of the use of civilizational rhetoric is in its self-fulfillment. The more the rhetoric is used, the more relevant it becomes, whether it is in form or substance. Conclusion While economic and security interests are no doubt important in providing explanation to Armenia’s “balanced” policy toward Iran, it does not give full justice to the surprisingly benevolent Armenian attitude to its Muslim neighbor. Iran’s pragmatic policies in regard to the region

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and Armenia in particular allow for certain ideas of self make this relationship less conflictual than others. The stress on shared ancientness and indigenousness enhances the self-perception of uniqueness so inherent in the Armenian identity. This has been transferred to the political realm where Iranian “third-worldism” is often times being emulated to demonstrate this exceptionalism as the Armenian initial position on the American “war against terror” demonstrates. Hence, Iran’s Islamic identity is not a negative factor, but on the contrary is used as a positive marker to demonstrate Armenian’s continuous role as a bridge between East and West not only in their historical role as a diaspora but also as an important element of their contemporary political identity. The relatively short border and slow economic cooperation between these two countries is vastly disproportionate to the highly important symbolic role that Iran plays in Armenian foreign policy. Beyond the fact that the regional geopolitics have created permissive environment for this relationship, there is a deeper understanding and mutual amity that saves it from opportunistic exploitations and gives it a large degree of permanence.

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Chapter 4

The West: “Ambiguous Modern” Introduction Politically speaking, when we say the “West” we unite America and Western Europe leaving outside this union the countries of Central and Eastern Europe, though geographically, they are in the West.1

The “West” is both a geopolitical construct and an idea. Armenia’s relationship with it and understanding of it should be considered within the context of postcommunism because the very concept of the “West” has been solidified and coined in reference to the “East.” Hence, in the Armenian foreign policy thinking and practice, it is defined first and foremost politically rather than geographically and to a great extent against the post-Soviet context: This principle [of diversification] resisted by some and spurned by others, began to take hold in international fora, mainly due to Armenia’s insistence on diversification as a core value to build cooperation, particularly in areas of the former fault lines of East—West antagonism. This principle is predicated on the notion that with the disappearance of a bi-polar world, its underlying ideology should be scrapped with it. Armenia’s whole security doctrine and its web of bilateral relations are guided by this element as it has successfully created a network of security arrangements complementary to each other, with contributions from both former cold-war camps.2

In this context, the West is seen as a monolith partner as opposed to the “Eastern” neighbors: Turkey, Iran, and Russia. While geopolitically, it is fragmented around major centers of powers such as the United States and the EU, conceptually, it is a unitary partner, a source of

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cultural capital and legitimacy because the elite learning is centered on the Western models, concepts, and language. Yet, this is where the conflict in Armenia’s relationship with the West arises: on the one hand, the successful socialization with the West implies an appropriation of the language of “rationality,” on the other, the much valued “sovereignty” categorizes certain issues such as the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict into the matters that are beyond rational calculations. This dichotomy is well described by George Scheopflin: [T]here are deep differences in style and substance, profound gaps in unrelated discourses … Western thought- and speech-styles are described (by Westerners) as pragmatic, professional, future-oriented, and not structured by explicit value judgments, as “rational”. Post-communists, on the other hand, are seen as relying heavily on history, on pathos, on a sense of resentment and injustice.3

In its early relationship with the West, the Armenian elite was caught in this dualistic role. According to a definition of transitional elites offered by Steven Sampson, it was a cultural elite, constituted by dissidents, intellectuals, and historians striving to maintain links with the “sources of cultural capital in the West.”4 By definition, they were revisionists, greeted by the West as the true democrats. However, the new elites’ revisionism did not end at the intellectual challenge to the Soviet system but questioned the internationally recognized borders and agreements. This duality remained to define Armenia’s position vis-à-vis the West and Western perception of Armenia. It can be argued that geopolitically, the West became a relatively monolith player only after 1998 when the policies of the United States, NATO, European structures, and major European states became increasingly synchronized. Until then this direction of the Armenian foreign policy was dominated by “American” tilt. Europe emerged as a partner after 1998 when such European structures as the Council of Europe and the EU became more proactive in the Southern Caucasus. This chapter focuses on Yerevan’s relations with the United States and the European institutions. Although politically, West became an immediate actor in Armenia’s foreign policy in the form of the mediation efforts coordinated by the OSCE and the members of the Minsk Group, it was not perceived as a “European” organization but rather as a conglomerate of interested parties. Hence, the analysis of its relations with the West will exclude a direct discussion of the mediation efforts of the OSCE Minsk Group as the interests of the cochairs of the group are analyzed in the appropriate sections.

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Armenia and the United States The rules of the new world order have not been established yet, and this is a transition period. The empire collapsed and Russia’s military, and especially nuclear, capability were left intact. In this case, there was no Council of Vienna, no Versailles treaty; Potsdam and Yalta didn’t happen here. The victors did not carve up the loser’s territories and assets. No safeguards were developed to prevent repeating the past. Nagorno-Karabakh is one of the arenas where this new relationship is being tested and new mechanisms are being developed.5

At its early stages, relations between Washington and Yerevan were an uncomplicated matter as both parties were getting accustomed to their status, of independence and global predominance, respectively. The United States recognized Armenia’s independence on December 25, 1991; diplomatic relations were established on January 7, 1992, and the embassies were opened in February 1992. Even prior to independence, Armenia was not an uncharted territory for the U.S. politicians and media. The 1988 earthquake and the events in Nagorno-Karabakh were widely covered by the U.S. media. As a sign of thawing of the U.S.Soviet relations, President Bush’s son and grandson visited the areas devastated in the earthquake. U.S. senator Bob Dole, long known as a friend of Armenians, also traveled to the site to deliver medical supplies.6 This trip left a long-lasting impression on the Armenian society; against the prevailing hopelessness, injustice, and devastation plaguing the republic, this was a heartwarming event. Then there was the aid and American doctors arriving to Yerevan in waves, the first exposure to the other side, first encounters and discoveries. In the West, the media portrayed Armenians as freedom-loving, peaceful nation that endured much suffering. In 1990, the newly elected Levon Ter-Petrosyan traveled to New York, Washington, and Los Angeles to meet with the Armenian-American community. Although the visit was successful in meeting face-to-face and engaging Armenian-Americans, it was criticized for hastiness and lack of organization. Most importantly, Levon Ter-Petrosyan was unable to meet with President Bush and California governor George Deukmejian as planned.7 However despite this initial setback, the president achieved a sought for exposure in the United States by meeting with National Security Advisor Brent Scowcroft, and establishing important links with the diaspora and the American media. During his first trip, the new president was able to solicit the interest of the media outlets that fancied him for quiet confidence, pragmatism, and his history of anti-Soviet dissent.

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While so much else in the Soviet nation is reeling with political fury and dire warning, Mr. Ter-Petrosyan, the new President of the Armenian republic, is carving a different path to the very same full independence that far more celebrated republics like Lithuania and Georgia are seeking in headlined confrontations.8

Armenia was named “an oasis of civility and democracy among post-Soviet republics.”9 In February 1991, Armenia conducted a national referendum on the question: “Do you agree that the republic of Armenia should be a democratic independent state outside the USSR?” Around 99.4 percent of respondents expressed a wish to secede from the Soviet Union. The U.S. congressional delegation observing the referendum, gave recommendation to the U.S. government to recognize Armenia’s independence. Bush administration was hesitant to move forward with its recognition prior to Russia’s. Shortly after September 23 declaration of independence, the president came back to Washington to seek assurances of U.S. support. While there were such concrete issues on the agenda as humanitarian assistance, medical help, and investment, this visit was aimed at pressuring Moscow to recognize Armenia’s independence, as the United States could not precede Moscow in doing so.10 The peaceful means, through which Levon Ter-Petrosyan came to power and seceded from the USSR, provided him with moral legitimacy to pursue Western support in ensuring Armenia’s independence. The West is afraid of confrontation and collision. It is afraid that republics seceding from the federation will cause great problems for the USSR and for the West. From this point of view, the West feels that it must not support republics that are radical in their ideas and that are going to cut all their ties. Armenia serves as an example for the West of how to reach independence peacefully, without this confrontation and collision.11

The prominence of the American direction in Yerevan’s Western policy, and new president’s instant exposure in the West should be attributed to the Armenian diaspora. The PR campaign for Armenia on the U.S. domestic political scene has guided and informed the U.S. position toward Yerevan and the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict until 1996 when America’s own geostrategic objectives in the region became clarified and crystallized. During the early period following independence, the diaspora was also readjusting and reorganizing itself in response to the new reality of a homeland slowly emerging from behind the Iron Curtain. Armenians among other ethnic groups in the United States engaged in an avid struggle to influence the U.S. foreign policy priorities. As Ross Vartian, the former executive director of the Armenian Assembly of

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America explained, “[T]he object is not just to win the Cold War, but to win the post- Cold war.”12 This became the defining position of the Armenian lobby in the United States and the sheer weight of the chaos and zero-sum politics in the remote Southern Caucasus was transferred onto the American legislative scene. There were several factors that contributed to Armenia’s diplomatic success in upgrading in importance its relationship with the United States. One, as mentioned previously, Armenia’s relative success in the process of democratization in its early years vis-à-vis Azerbaijan and Georgia and the visible consolidation of the society behind the regime were significant positive markers. This particular condition was used as an essential component of the narrative of Armenia’ predicament in those gruesome years, and as an evidence of Armenia’s organic acceptance of Western values and norms. Two, between 1991 and 1994, the power and organization of the AmericanArmenian diaspora was unprecedented among other ethnic lobbing groups emerging after the end of communism. The earthquake and the NagornoKarabakh crisis immediately placed Armenia on the U.S. radar screen against the overall low interest that late Bush and early Clinton administration displayed toward the Southern Caucasus and Central Asia. It galvanized and consolidated the Armenian lobby and placed the relationship in the sphere of humanitarian response and emotional politics. Three, the structure of the U.S. long-term strategy in the region had not been formed yet. With the exception of containing Iran, the region did not present a clear geostrategic interest and hence no concrete formulated objectives. All of these factors provided a window of opportunity for Armenia to simultaneously gain from its military cooperation with Russia and exert influence on U.S. legislative politics via its proxy, ethnic Armenian lobby. The goals set by the Armenian diaspora as it relates to the humanitarian assistance to Armenia and U.S. position in the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict fully corresponded to and even helped articulate the needs of the Republic of Armenia. The capable diaspora in the United States was the fifth column that mediated the discovery of and socialization with the unknown West. The appointment of an American lawyer, a Fletcher School Graduate to the post of the first Foreign Minister was part of Ter-Petrosyan’ strategy to quickly integrate Armenia into the Western community and to put forward an image of an enlightened “civilized” country. How else if not through the assistance of the diaspora would the Armenian leadership so quickly resolve the problem described by the future foreign minister Vartan Oskanian in 1991: With almost no experience in foreign affairs, the absence of any foreign policy tradition, and a lack of qualified personnel to fill key posts in the

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ministry, the government faces the mammoth task of building a whole institution from scratch.13

In discussing Armenian-U.S. relations it is difficult to refer to Armenia’s foreign policy toward the United States, as according to the traditional wisdom small states do not conduct foreign policies vis-à-vis a global power. Yet the diaspora factor turned Armenia from an object to a subject, “an active actor” affecting U.S. foreign policy through its diaspora.14 For this reason this discussion focuses on the role of the Armenian ethnic lobby only as it has been instrumentalized by the Armenian state in the area of U.S. foreign policy toward Armenia in 1990s and not on Armenia-diaspora relations. While referring to the Armenian diaspora in the United States as a unified front helps to move the point along, it does not do justice to its fragmented and politically heterogeneous nature; hence specification of the groups that have been involved in the lobbying is important. Two groups that have played a leading role in politically representing Armenian-American community in the U.S. congress have been the Armenian Assembly of America and Armenian National Committee of America (ANCA).The Armenian Assembly of America evolved from being part of the Captive Nations Block, alliance of East European ethnic organizations, to becoming as one of the most authoritative and well organized political influence groups on the Capitol Hill after the collapse of the Soviet Union. The assembly took pride in its centrist position and its ability to work across political lines, often contrasting itself to the ANCA that represented Dashnaktsutyun party. Ter-Petrosyan’s animosity toward Dashnaktsutyun, and Armenia’s foreign minister’s former affiliation with the Armenian Assembly of America brought the organization to prominence and guaranteed it the primary role in promoting the interests of independent Armenia in the U.S. congress. It is for these reasons that the assembly was chosen to organize the president’s first visit to the United States. While other former Soviet republics had to hire experienced lobbying firms to ease them into Washington politics and conduct a PR campaign, the Armenian Assembly performed these crucial functions for the Armenian embassy for free. As the Armenian ambassador Ruben Shugarian noted, “Many, many ambassadors envy me.”15 The building for the Armenian embassy on the Dupont Circle in Washington, D.C. was donated by the Armenian Assembly Chairman Hirair Hovnanian. As demonstrated by chapter on Turkey, the fact that the Armenian government accepted diaspora’s financial support but attempted to maximally preclude it from exerting political influence in Armenia caused much frustration in later years of Ter-Petrosyan’s presidency.

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While discussing the U.S. policy toward Armenia, it is important to make distinctions between the State Department and the U.S. Congress. The State Department has always remained neutral in its dealings with both sides of the conflict. On the U.S. Congress side, however, the “concept of the ‘Azeri aggression’ was already well established by the time the Soviet Union collapsed.”16 The narrative that was promoted by the Armenian Assembly and ANCA weaved together the liberation struggle of the Nagorno-Karabakh Armenians with the 1915 genocide, with the border blockade imposed by Turkey and Azerbaijan being presented as a continuation of ever-present threat to Armenia’s physical survival. This narrative was delivered to the congressmen through talking points, regular briefings and constituent correspondence. As the journalist writing for the Armenian Reporter remarked, “I doubt that members of Congress would have come up [with the connection] on their own.”17 The pinnacle of the Armenian success on the U.S. legislative field was the famous Section 907 that imposed a ban on U.S. foreign aid to Azerbaijan until it maintains its border blockade of Armenia: United States assistance under this or any other Act (other than assistance title V of this act [Nonproliferation and Disarmament Programs and Activities]) may not be provided to the Government of Azerbaijan until the President determines, and so reports to the Congress, that the Government of Azerbaijan is taking demonstrable steps to cease all blockades and other offensive uses of force against Armenia and Nagorno-Karabakh.18

Implicitly, this meant that the U.S. Congress defined Azerbaijan as an aggressor in the conflict. For Armenia, this provision was crucial for two reasons. First, it set Armenia’s predicament apart from the Armenian military advances in the Nagorno-Karabakh. Second, it predetermined disparity between Armenia and Azerbaijan in terms of U.S. financial assistance, whereby Armenia became the fourth-per-capita recipient of U.S. aid in the world and the first one among the newly independent states. This financial assistance along with the large financial influx from diaspora allowed Ter-Petrosyan’s government to stay afloat through critical years between 1991 and 1994. As Thomas Ambrosio notes, “Section 907 … forced the U.S. to side with the irredentist.”19 Although Armenian victories in 1992–1993 did at times solicit a harsh response from the State Department, no substantial changes in U.S. foreign policy toward Armenia resulted from it. As mentioned earlier, the success of the Armenian diplomatic victory on the U.S.-Armenian front during that early period to a large extent lay in the sphere of American domestic politics rather than U.S. geostrategy.

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This stemmed from the U.S. acceptance of the Russian primacy in the Southern Caucasus and the exploding situation in the Balkans that kept Southern Caucasus on the margins of American interest. It would appear that the U.S. at the time preferred Russian domination over this unknown and troublesome area, with few U.S. interests, to a volatile situation which had the potential to lead to a confrontation of Russia and Turkey.20

In 1994, then as the head of the North America Division of the Armenian Foreign Ministry, Vartan Oskanian reflected, “There’s only a certain distance that the U.S. or the West will go. They have made it clear that they consider our fate tied to Russia’s.”21 This position reflected the general Western reluctance to antagonize Russia throughout the early years of Yeltsin’s presidency and became evident in the resolution process of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. In 1992, the American ambassador to OSCE, John Maresca led a fact-finding delegation to Karabakh, and based on the trip report, the organization agreed to convene a peace conference in Minsk. Thus the Minsk Group was born as a result of the direct American intervention and was “designed to legitimize a leadership role for the United States.”22 However, it was only in 1993 that the United States for the first time saw Russia’s position as a serious impediment to the peaceful resolution of the conflict. As discussed in Chapter 1, Russians insisted on a unilateral peacekeeping force in the region. In the summer of 1993, the U.S. officials, particularly Ambassador Maresca were brainstorming various proposals on multilateral task force that received no response from the Russian side: “Their bad faith became increasingly obvious. It was clear that it was their deliberate intention not to cooperate, thus to ensure that their own proposal would be understood by the parties to be the only game in town, and ultimately to supplant the international negotiating process.”23 Armenian and Russian positions coincided because both perceived Turkey’s possible role as a participant in the conflict resolution process as threatening. The United States was seen as backing Turkish involvement. In the spring of 1993, the State Department for the first time openly condemned the Armenian offensive in Kelbajar, by issuing a strong-worded statement and sending a note of protest to the Armenian president. The official Yerevan characterized U.S. response as “lacking balance.”24 Yet, the president became increasingly concerned with the Western response to the Armenian offensives in NK (Nagorno-Karabakh): “After Kelbajar, Ter-Petrosyan was frightened almost to death. After that he was categorically against any military action.”25

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Washington increasingly saw Russian and Armenian actions as attempts to sideline its own efforts, particularly in the fall of 1993 when the new Swedish Co-Chairman of Minsk Group, Jan Eliasson decided to temporarily limit the meetings of the group and unilaterally engage in a shuttle diplomacy among the conflicting parties.26 Yet, early Clinton administration continued to respect the Russian primacy in the region since Moscow was the only party proven capable of negotiating and brokering a ceasefire between Armenia and Azerbaijan in May 1994. It continued to push for the Russian or joint CIS task force in the conflict zone, a proposal that Armenia and Karabakh supported but Azerbaijan rejected out of hand.27 During Ter-Petrosyan’s visit to the United States in August 1994, President Clinton expressed his support for the Russian proposal, given that Azerbaijan agrees to it as well. He even asked the Armenian president whether he would agree to the Russian peacekeeping force, to which Ter-Petrosyan vaguely responded: “We are interested in the soonest establishment of peace. And I think that … most important in this issue is the establishment of peace itself, and not who will do that.”28 Although this statement seemed to be an indication of Armenia’s possible acceptance of the international peacekeeping option, President Clinton was reluctant to get more actively involved in the settlement process as some argue missing a significant opportunity at diffusing Russia’s nonconstructive influence and earning credibility with both sides.29 This prevailing “indifference,” as characterized by John Maresca himself,30 spilled over into the subsequent U.S. policy that “was dominated by geopolitics, not commerce or diplomacy.”31 By 1994, as Laitin and Suny remark, “Armenians had won the war in Karabakh. But almost from the moment of victory their impeccable moral position had begun to blur in the eyes of the Western powers.”32 On the one hand, zenith of Ter-Petrosyan’s popularity with the West and, more specifically, the United States was coming to an end due to his political blunders, including the crackdown on Dashnaktsutyun and prevailing corruption. On the other hand, in neighboring Azerbaijan, the former communist strongman Aliyev was promising political stability long lacking in the country. The combination of vast oil reserves and political stability made Azerbaijan very attractive to Western investors and governments. The marked shift in U.S. security priorities became evident in 1994 U.S. “National Security Strategy of Engagement and Enlargement” that touched upon the Caspian oil as possible means of obtaining the diversity of oil supply.33 This ushered in a new era of “pipeline politics,” which dominated two Clinton administrations’ policy toward the Southern Caucasus and was well explained by Robert E. Ebel in 1996, “Nothing

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is quite attractive as something which in the past has been denied but which is now available.”34 On the domestic front, while the role of the Armenian lobby remained crucial in securing high level of humanitarian assistance to Armenia and in keeping Section 907 in place, its overall rhetoric was not always liked by the Armenian government. The Armenian Embassy in Washington at times distanced itself from the Armenian lobby that was not as pragmatic and as “not in touch” with the Armenian reality as the diplomats were. Diaspora’s campaign against Azerbaijan and Turkey placed constraints on the Ter-Petrosyan government’s ability to maneuver around explosive political issues to obtain economic gains from the pipeline projects. While the resolution of the conflict was a priority, more important was Western funding through not only U.S. humanitarian assistance but also World Bank and IMF loans. In 1996, the Armenian ambassador noted, “[M]ost of the things [the groups] did for us we can do for ourselves now.”35 Oil became the main incentive for American haphazard efforts to push through the deal between Armenia and Azerbaijan. The “peace pipeline” discussions simultaneously involved the Armenian-Turkish front as seen in Chapter 2. The Nagorno-Karabakh negotiations were conducted through shuttle diplomacy, involving the national security advisors of both Armenia and Azerbaijan with the participation of Joseph Presel, the American special negotiator for Nagorno-Karabakh. In March 1996, a delegation led by Deputy Secretary of State Strobe Talbott and Deputy National Security Advisor Sandy Berger visited Baku. During the same trip, Sandy Berger met with the head of Azerbaijan state oil company “SOCAR.”36 The problem was that none of the sides had the incentive to compromise, neither Turkey, nor Armenia, nor Azerbaijan. Russia was distracted from the issue by its campaign in Chechnya. An indication of the growing rift between Armenia and the United States was almost an angry exchange between the State Department and Armenian Foreign Ministry in the summer of 1996. It was triggered by administration’s response to the Porter Amendment to the FY 1997 appropriations bill that envisioned humanitarian aid to Nagorno-Karabakh. The State Department responded to the legislation by issuing the following statement: The Government of Azerbaijan has interpreted th is language as undermining its sovereignty and territorial integrity … Likewise we support negotiated settlements to conflict in the post-Soviet space to ensure each new nation’s independence, prosperity and security.37

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The Armenian Foreign Ministry responded by criticizing the United States for encouraging Azerbaijan’s rigid position in the negotiations. The statement also predetermines the status of Nagorno-Karabakh when, by the 1992 Ministerial decision of the OSCE, the status is to be negotiated, and will be determined at the Minsk Conference. The Foreign Ministry of Armenia considers siding with one of the parties to the conflict irreconcilable with the role of a mediator.38

The surge of American interest in Azerbaijan were reflective of Washington’s fundamental motives in the region—securing access to oil and containment of Iran, a reality, with which efforts of the Armenian lobby could not compete. Ter-Petrosyan’s trust in Clinton administration’s evenhandedness was eroded particularly when Yerevan heard statements such as the following one by the U.S. negotiator on Nagorno-Karabakh elevating the issue of oil above the conflict resolution: Our goals in the Caucasus depend upon resolution of these conflicts. What are they? We want the region to develop as a whole. That takes cooperation. The region is rich in oil and has a large, though backward, industrial base. The development, extraction and transport to market of energy resources can and should be the engine for development of the entire region, with the participation of U.S companies and investment—if the countries live in peace and cooperation.39

During that period, U.S. officials and analysts started to laud Baku as a reliable base for spreading American influence in Transcaucasus.40 The Armenian leadership was caught between appeasing the West in search for lucrative projects and handing the Nagorno-Karabakh factor in its politics. In November 1996, Nagorno-Karabakh Republic held elections amid U.S. and OSCE condemnation. Against Ter-Petrosyan’s rapidly eroding legitimacy due to mired elections, Kocharyan’s transparent election as a president of Nagorno-Karabakh Republic had an effect of hardening Armenia’s position and of further embracing Russia. In January 1998 Ter-Petrosyan’s new prime minister Aram Sarkisyan was received in Washington where he for the first time openly spoke about Yerevan’s interest in the pipeline’s transit through Armenia’s territory stating that Armenia “cannot be bypassed as a transit country, neither it can be ignored that Armenia is the most cost-effective route.”41 Unfortunately, shortly thereafter the new prime minister was hospitalized and the initiative did not develop any further. The Clinton administration’s hands-off approach toward political realities in Armenia became obvious between September 1997 and

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February 1998. In January 1997, on Azerbaijan’s insistence the United States became the Co-Chairman of the Minsk Group. Under the auspices of the OSCE, the United States placed an increasing pressure on Yerevan to make concessions, a policy line confirmed by an American diplomat in Armenia: “We now put more pressure on Armenian side than the Azeris.”42 At his final press conference as the U.S. ambassador to Armenia, Peter Thomsen had these very strong words to say: No country recognizes Karabakh’s independence. This is a U.S. policy and it is the policy of the OSCE. In other words, all of these countries recognize the territorial integrity of Azerbaijan, and that Karabakh is within borders of Azerbaijan. Unless you want an unending future conflict, tension and periodic wars, we urge that you talk to Azerbaijanis and the three sides reach modus vivendi. No side can win 100 percent. As I said, there is not even a dialogue, much less any progress toward an agreement [these days]. We believe that Armenia cannot realize sustained, robust economic growth unless there is a solution to the Karabakh dispute. As I leave Armenia, I urge you not to become complacent and think that everything is OK—it is not OK. The seeds of war are there. You should try to remove them through political negotiations … there is no political negotiation, inevitably military tensions and military buildups go forward, eventually leading to another conflict and war.43

The Clinton administration remained unresponsive to the congressional and Armenian-American proposals to invite Ter-Petrosyan to Washington in 1997. When Levon Ter-Petrosyan finally gave in to the pressure and embraced the U.S.-backed OSCE new step-by-step peace plan, the United States did very little to pressure Azerbaijan to reciprocate or provide adequate security guarantees that the Armenian side was asking.44 In this light, Robert Kocharyan and Vartan Oskanian’s policy of complementarity was a response to the impossible situation created for Armenia at the dawn of Ter-Petrosyan’s rule. It was a means to maintain the status quo and to forestall any similar pressure in the future. Most importantly, it was a tool to diffuse the effects of the growing Russian-U.S. split that was particularly strongly felt with the first Chechen campaign and the U.S. bombing of Belgrade. In a televised address, Russian Foreign Minister Igor Ivanov made the following strong statement: Whatever arguments NATO and, primarily, U.S. strategic experts may use to justify the reasons for their international arbitrary actions, their real aims are obvious. They want to establish such a unipolar world order in the 21st century as to make it Yugoslavia’s right to sovereignty today, we

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are defending the future of the world and of Europe against the latest from of neocolonialism, the so-called NATO colonialism.45

This statement signaled Russia’s growing unease with the NATO enlargement that Moscow with “strategic isolation,” a perception reinforced by increased NATO interest in the Caucasus in 1998–1999. Over that short period, Xavier Solana (then NATO’s Secretary General) made multiple trips to the region.46 NATO’s PFP was formally outlined in 1994 NATO’s Brussels Summit and at its core represented the organization’s attempts to meet Russia’s concerns, to offer a mechanism of accession to East Europeans and to overcome “its own anxieties at the organizational difficulties of embracing new members.”47 Hence, PFP in principle was a mitigated option offered instead of enlargement that met the goals of Armnenia, Azerbaijan, and Georgia, who all joined the program in as early as 1994. The NATO involvement with the region went through enhancements in 1997 with the establishment of the Euro Atlantic Partnership Council (EAPC) and in 1999, with Washington Summit’s endorsement of “Enhanced and More Operational PFP.” Armenia’s more active engagement with NATO occurred in unison with the creation of NATO-Russia Permanent Joint Council during the NATO Madrid summit in mid-1997 that gave Armenia more flexibility in its relations with the alliance. When Javier Solana visited Yerevan in February 1997, the defense minister Vazgen Sarkisyan announced that Armenia is ready to participate in the NATO military training exercises.48 And yet, fundamentally, the tone remained reserved, to a large degree not only because of Russian factor but also because of Turkey. As Armenian foreign minister Alexander Arzoumanian stated on NATO’s Madrid Summit in July 8–9, 1997, As you know, Armenia is bordering with NATO, but with a heavy heart I must declare that there are still no diplomatic relations with that NATO member state bordering with Armenia—Turkey, moreover political strain is still preserved. The existing situation greatly obstructs he development of full-fledged relations between Armenia and NATO, forms unfavorable public opinion about NATO in Armenia.49

By the time Kocharyan administration firmly established itself, the Russian-NATO relationship was tense at best. Some domestic oppositional forces named Kocharyan’s policies pro-Western particularly following Xavier Solana’s visit to Yerevan in 1998.50 In March 1999, the Armenian Parliament ratified the 1995 NATO-Armenia agreement on PFP program. The careful maneuvering between its main military ally and a potential partner is

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evident in the language of Armenian 2000–2001 Individual Partnership Program (IPP) document. The tone is reserved, with a particular emphasis on education and regional stability, and the word NATO is being maximally avoided. While, the document reads, the areas of cooperation are “almost similar with those of Azerbaijan and Georgia, it is clear, that in accordance with its complimentary policy, Armenia tries to benefit as much as possible from the opportunities offered by PFP.”51 Yerevan made it clear that NATO membership is not Armenia’s foreign policy objective and instead its relationship with the Alliance should be described as a NATO “threshold policy.” As Rouben Shugarian, then Armenia’s ambassador to the United States, noted, “for Yerevan, each new cooperation stage with the NATO is a matter of thoroughly scrutinized political decision, not a technical or administrative one.52 The increasingly prominent role that the Southern Caucasus began to play in Euro-Atlantic security architecture after 1997 reflected the shift in the regional security complex dictated by the emerging RussianAmerican rift. The new vigorous U.S. foreign policy in the region lay in “the loss of respect for Russia and its capabilities in the Caucasus.”53 Because the global superpower realized its stakes in the region, it was no longer perceived as Moscow’s regional backyard but a significant player. Although the role of oil is very important in defining U.S. priorities, Southern Caucasus was essential for Washington’s grand strategy of containing both Iran and Iraq through limiting its dependency on Persian Gulf oil and ensuring security of energy supplies.54 This goal converged with the need to further bracket U.S.-Russia relations centered around “a two-sided Russia” policy where Moscow was given an opportunity to engage with the international community and world economy in order to keep it stable and where on the other hand it is prevented from rising to its former preeminence. South Caucasus as a region has provided the United States with an opportunity to achieve these objectives simultaneously. While on the one hand, Caspian energy transportation projects in the form of Baku-Ceyhan pipeline diversify U.S. energy outlets via east-west route, away from Iran, they also undercut Russian regional preeminence. Ironically, bypassing Armenia in the designs for the Caspian energy transportation in the late 1990s resulted exactly in what Washington was trying to avoid—dependence of a regional state on Russia and Iran for energy supplies. However, for Washington, such as reliance by Armenia has been far outweighed by the political dividends of the Baku-Ceyhan; “U.S. policy has gone beyond oil, and a broader vision of an entirely new communications system across the Caucasus and the Caspian Sea to Central Asia has taken form.”55

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The Silk Road Strategy Act introduced by Senator Sam Browback and adopted by the U.S. Congress in November 1999 reflected this drive to reshape the existing frameworks in the region. It aimed at erasing region’s affiliation with Russia by removing “former Soviet” label and replacing it with a historical concept (Silk Road) that had no Russia connection. The U.S. needs to show more leadership and strength in the South Caucasus and Central Asia … Until now U.S. policy in the region has been seen only through the prism of our Russia policy; these countries are free and independent and should be treated as such. They are in a strategically important region of the world, standing against the threat of Islamic fundamentalism. We need to make the most of this opportunity to help these countries maintain their sovereignty and independence, as well as their pro-Western policies.56

As neutral as it sounded, this legislation had a caveat for Armenia. It amended Section 907 of the Freedom Support Act to provide the president with the authority to waive restrictions on assistance to the Government of Azerbaijan if it is in the interest of the United States. Most significantly for Armenia, the United States would no longer keep the requirement for the Government of Azerbaijan to take any steps to lift its economic blockade against Armenia and Nagorno-Karabakh. However, as a result of fierce “battles” in Senate and House committees waged by the Armenian lobby, Section 907 was not removed as initially proposed by Sam Brownback. The importance of this legislation was demonstrated by the Armenian foreign minister’s visit to Washington around the time when the debates were taking place on the Capitol Hill.57 The complexity of the regional situation and shifting balance of power was revealed during the 1999 OSCE Istanbul Summit. Seen as an important achievement for Armenia, the summit declaration did not call for the territorial integrity of Azerbaijan, while it explicitly referred to the territorial integrity of Russia and Georgia. The summit was important for several reasons. One, it revealed Russian attempt to diffuse U.S. criticism of its Chechnya campaign by agreeing to its troop withdrawal from Georgia and Moldova. Two, all regional states agreed to a regional security framework that would include the United States and Europe in addition to the regional states (3 + 3 + 2). Three, while in Istanbul, President Clinton signed the Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan oil pipeline agreement and the Trans-Caspian Gas Pipeline Declaration. These developments meant that Russia’s Caucasus direction was in a vulnerable state of affairs and needed fortification.58 October 27 article in Moscow’s Nezavismaya titled “Small Armenia Plays Big Games” is

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symptomatic of the attention that Moscow was paying to Yerevan’s evolving relations with the West. It refers to the arrival of four MIG-29 fighter planes to Yerevan, and continues to allude that [i]ndicatively, the arrival of the aircraft occurred against the background of a visit to Transcaucasia being paid by a high-ranking delegation of the U.S. State Department and a general intensification of the U.S. foreign policy in respect of the Caucasian region, specifically Armenia. On the threshold of the Istanbul OSCE summit, Armenia has come to play an active role in the big geopolitical game, which Russia and the United States pursue in Caucasus.59

The ruling elite in Yerevan felt increasingly confident; by 2000, Kocharyan consolidated his personal position and was firmly in control, which gave him impetus to further his chosen policy course and engage in one-on-one talks with the Azerbaijani side. Both Putin and Clinton supported Kocharyan’s efforts to consolidate his domestic base.60 Washington was expressing approval of Kocharyan’s “firmness” and “courage” and showed renewed interest in Armenia, evident in relatively high level of diplomatic activity between Washington, NATO, and Yerevan. Outgoing Clinton administration’s last efforts concentrated on deepening military and commercial ties with Armenia, and expressing renewed interest in the peace process. As Washington, Paris and Brussels were beginning to put forth various proposals, Yerevan’s clarification of its current policy to Washington became necessary. After attending the CIS Summit in Moscow and after an unsuccessful futile meeting with Heydar Aliyev, in June 2000, Kocharyan paid an official visit to the United States where he outlined the following principles of Yerevan’s foreign policy: 1. Armenia is an active member of the CIS (Commonwealth of Independent States), and most importantly participates in its security system. 2. Armenia’s security concerns are very significant due to its political isolation and economic blockade by Turkey and Azerbaijan. 3. Armenia is determined to maintain the inviolability of its borders against Turkey that is hostile to it; it also is mistrustful of Azerbaijan, which threatens the physical security of the Karabakh Armenians. It is for these reasons that Armenia is forced to maintain Russian bases on its territory. 4. Friendly relations with Iran are imperative for its economic survival, particularly in the area of the construction of gas and oil pipelines

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between the two countries. Kocharyan was well aware that the United States is potentially against this deal because of the plan to extend it to Georgia’s Poti seaport, with export capacity to Ukraine and Europe. Armenia’s chosen policy course is complementarity, based on the expansion of complex relations with the United States, and cooperation with NATO’s Partnership for Peace program. Reflective of Armenia’s foreign policy doctrine is the proposed the 3 + 3 + 2 formula to establish a Caucasian Stability Pact involving Georgia, Azerbaijan, Russia, Iran, Turkey, the United States, and Western Europe. This can potentially pose concern with the Russian leadership but Yerevan is willing to see the U.S. presence in the region. Armenia is ready to establish diplomatic relations with Turkey without preconditions and without grounding them in historical grievances, provided that Turkey will do the same. Armenia is determined to find a just solution to the NagornoKarabakh conflict and will continue negotiations within the framework of the Minsk Group. The U.S. role as an honest broker would mean that Azerbaijan and Turkey are convinced that Armenians of Nagorno-Karabakh have legitimate security concerns and their self-determination rights should be respected. Last but not least, on the agenda was the discussion of increasing trade, American investment into Armenian economy and U.S. financial aid.61

Against the backdrop of multiple unresolved issues between the United States and Russia, the resolution of the Nagorno-Karabakh presented itself as a potentially high-yield investment for the new Bush administration. Renewing its efforts to achieve a breakthrough, Washington initiated Armenia-Azerbaijan talks in Key West, Florida in April 2001. For Armenia, this was an opportunity to demonstrate its readiness for negotiations and build rapport with the new administration. Bush administration’s goal, on the other hand, prior to 9/11 was to use the negotiations as a platform to clarify its relations with Russia in multiple areas. It has been speculated that Key West peace talks served Washington’s overarching strategic objective to pressure Russia into an agreement over the abrogation of the 1972 Anti-Ballistic Missile treaty. The increase of U.S. influence on Russia’s southern frontiers as well as the issue of NATO enlargement were used as major pressure points.62 In his message sent to George Bush prior to the talks, President Putin stated that “mutual cooperation over Karabakh is a good example that

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our countries can successfully cooperate on the issue of settling serious regional problems.”63 The new Bush administration included several seasoned diplomats who were familiar with Eurasia, among them Deputy Secretary of State Richard Armitage, Deputy Secretary of State Mark Grossman, and the head of the Strategic Planning Department Richard Haas. When it came to Russia, these officials considered the Nagorno-Karabakh issue as a significant pressure point. Given that the parties agree to it, the issue of peacekeeping was intended as one of levers to make Russia concede on other fronts. Peacekeeping in such as unsettled areas as Nakhichevan and Megri as well as Zangelan, Jabrayil, and Fuzuli bordering on Nagorno-Karabakh was one of the most promoted aspects of negotiations. The Americans realized that Russia would not agree to peacekeeping unless it has a role to play hence the issue was placed on the agenda early on. Based on these facts, it can be argued that the new administration knew little about the domestic constraints both in Armenia and Azerbaijan. To take this further, it could even be suggested that the administration knew that there was a high probability that the talks would be futile and simply used it as a platform for managing U.S.-Russian relations. The Bush administration’s initiative to rapidly move forward with the conflict resolution between Armenia and Azerbaijan was dictated by several reasons none of which included an understanding of domestic pressures, which both presidents were facing. Kocharyan’s genuineness in the pursuit of the settlement given his background and personal convictions has been the subject of some doubt. It is true that the economic situation in Armenia required drastic changes in its regional status, and the Armenian leadership realized that the current status quo significantly lessens Armenia’s chances of being part of the emerging regional transportation and energy architecture. Yet, the Karabakh issue remained to be located in the sphere of symbolic, nationalist politics, where a compromise would be suicidal for any Armenian leader. Even for a leader as firmly in control of the political system as Heydar Aliyev, any decision on the Nagorno-Karabakh issue was to be socially negotiated. David Shahnazaryan, one of the current intellectual leaders of the PANM, was correct when he posited, “[T]he incumbent Armenian authorities’ foreign policy is to maintain, as long as possible, the current situation over Nagorno-Karabakh conflict and preserve the fragile balance of forces in South Caucasus region. Today all foreign policy priorities of Armenia are derivatives and components of this main policy line.”64 While the talks ended with a broad framework for settlement and agreement to continue top-level negotiations in Geneva, it became clear a month after Key West that the sides have not agreed upon a common

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formula. The Armenian administration made it clear that it does not envision anything but the “package” option.65 The Azerbaijani leadership could not negotiate anything less than a step-by-step approach with the domestic opposition and general public. The planned follow-up meeting between Aliyev and Kocharyan in Geneva did not happen. The failure of Key West demonstrated “the near impossibility for any Armenian head of state to impose an agreement on the people without fatally damaging his legitimacy.”66 Moreover, the pressure of the Western actors, particularly the United States, to promote a settlement from without stirred up a perception of an external threat to the security of the regimes and forced both Armenia and Azerbaijan to seek solution with Russia’s help. A month after Kocharyan’s return from Key West, the Armenian parliament unanimously adopted a resolution outlining the basic acceptable principles of the settlement: reunification of Armenia and the NagornoKarabakh Republic, or, its international recognition; direct participation of the Nagorno-Karabakh leadership in the final talks; a direct ground link between Armenia and Nagorno-Karabakh Republic, and a demilitarized border between Nagorno-Karabakh Republic and Azerbaijan. No concessions of Armenian territory as part of a settlement with Azerbaijan would be acceptable. The pressure on the conflicting sides to compromise was assessed as “counterproductive.”67 The weight of the American presence in Southern Caucasus and the importance of its relationship with the United States for a successful maneuvering around multiple regional challenges became startlingly clear after 9/11. The effects of the terrorist attacks in New York on the regional dynamics in the Southern Caucasus and on Armenia as it relates to Yerevan’s relations with each regional power have been discussed in the previous chapters. Hence, this section will complement the existing picture with 9/11 effects on Armenia’s success with multilateralism that it had promoted all along but mainly rhetorically. The real challenge to Yerevan presented by this shift in global security dynamics was to be able to sustain its policy of complementarity in the conditions when the global hegemon “arrived” to Armenia’s immediate neighborhood and when it became the regional military power.68 I would argue that this had a very significant psychological and normative impact on Armenia’s domestic environment but no so much on foreign policy. Particularly after the Iraq crisis, it became was centered on realization shared globally of the “dramatic novelty” of the new situation as “the juncture of unparalleled superpower autonomy and the global reach of that power’s effects.”69 It is important to draw a line between post-9/11 reaction and U.S. invasion of Iraq due to the different responses these two watershed events

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drew among the regional states. The perception of the vulnerability of the American power and global sympathy to the U.S. cause, “we are all Americans” slowly gave way to the growing realization of the grand American strategy based on two aspects outlined by Zbigniew Brzezinski: “the primacy of American global power” and “the global appeal of democracy.”70 These two devices became one in securing U.S. influence in Georgia and once again alienating Russia. The timeframe between September 2001 and March 2003 also signifies the formation of the new balance in the region and the emergence of new zero-sum game between the United States and Russia. Marking the negative shift in the regional security complex, the major consequence was the increased level of unpredictability and uncertainty. Global parameters of the post-9/11 world included temporary alignment between Russia and the United States that reflected Russia’s pragmatic understanding of its capabilities and place in the new world. But along with this readjustment, there were issues of major concern for Russia that raised red flags shortly after the initial “thaw” between Bush and Putin. Consistent with its earlier intentions, on December 13, 2001, the Bush administration announced its plans to unilaterally withdraw from the 1972 ABM Treaty. A few days later, Donald Rumsfeld stopped for a brief visit in Yerevan, Baku, and Tbilisi on his way to Afghanistan to discuss U.S. military aid in exchange for their support in the U.S. war against the Taliban.71 In December, Section 907 was waived opening a way for U.S. direct foreign aid to Azerbaijan and to military aid to both Baku and Yerevan. On February 27, 2002, Pentagon officials announced about their decision to deploy up to 200 U.S. Special Force troops to Georgia on a train-and-equip mission. This represented the first American military deployment in the South Caucasus since the end of the Cold War.72 In March, Armenian defense minister paid an official visit to Washington to discuss the U.S. security assistance to Armenia and the issue of Armenia-NATO. In late March, in Baku, for the first time in country’s history, Azerbaijan and the United States signed a security assistance agreement that specified upgrading air space control and air traffic safety according to the NATO standards as well as officer training.73 On March 29, 2002, the State Department announced that the U.S. government has removed Armenia and Azerbaijan from the list of countries barred from receiving American military and security assistance under the U.S. International Traffic in Arms Regulations (ITAR). According to the announcement, Washington intended “to deepen military cooperation with both countries,” in the common interests of promoting security and stability in the region.74 In early April, Armenian and Georgian chiefs of staff signed documents on bilateral military cooperation calling

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it a historical moment amid Russia’s increasing pressure on Georgia to deal with the Pankisi Gorge terrorism. On April 4, the Armenian parliament held a specially convened, closeddoor discussion with the defense and foreign ministers around policy adjustments in response to the new regional situation. At the follow-up press conference, the ministers announced that in response to Turkey’s growing importance in the Southern Caucasus and emergence of U.S. military presence in Georgia, it was imperative to open new channels of communication with Turkey, including government-to-government dialogue and to deepen military relations with the United States as well as establish good neighborly relations with Georgia.75 Yet, Yerevan’s overall response to the strategic developments in the region was carefully weighed. It was so cautious that the critics accused it of lacking any substance. As an Armenian political analyst skeptically commented, Armenia has no real clear-cut conception of what its foreign policy should be. Our [foreign] policy is a very responsive one. Given the existing balance [of forces in the region,] our reflex has to be wait and see. Of course it would be much better if we could have a real foreign policy because we could then use it to defend our national interests. But this not being the case, we have to have a wait-and-see policy and see how the situation develops further.76

In May 2002, during the Russian-U.S. summit in Moscow, America’s radical view of its new regional role became evident in the two documents signed, the Joint Declaration on the New Strategic Relationship and Joint Statement on Counterterrorism. Both documents “wipe the slate clean of the notion of a Russian “near abroad.” 77 Russian and American interests in Central Asia and Caucasus were presented as equally legitimate, and much stress was placed on the equal “partnership” forged to “meet the challenges of the 21st century.” The Joint Statement on Counter-terrorism delegated an equal role to Washington in resolving regional disputes: “The United States and Russia will cooperate to resolve regional conflicts, including those in Abkhazia and Nagorno-Karabakh, and the Transnistrian issue in Moldova.”78 The documents failed to mention the CIS or the Collective Security Treaty Organization, which Putin announced just days before the summit.79 This marked a radical, revolutionary change in the U.S. policy toward Russia. Unlike Clinton administration, which all the differences with Moscow notwithstanding, continued to respect the Southern Caucasus and Central Asia as the legitimate sphere of Russian interests, the new administration arrogantly saw its power as beyond challenge. At the end of the summit, Putin and Bush issued a joint declaration “strongly encouraging the Presidents of

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Azerbaijan and Armenia to exhibit flexibility and a constructive approach to resolving the conflict concerning Nagorno-Karabakh.”80 This statement was yet another device to demonstrate the new geopolitical reality rather than a concrete plan as both Armenia and Baku were heading for the elections and any breakthrough was unlikely. In 2002–2003, the relations between Yerevan and Washington were going through a vicious circle of deterioration. On the one hand, the stifled economic situation in Armenia in the absence of other outlets firmly locked Armenia in Russia’s grip and drew Kocharyan’s regime closer to Moscow. On the other hand, the United States was pressuring Armenia to show more commitment in its global war on terror. The low point was reached when Washington expressed harsh criticism regarding February–March 2003 parliamentary and presidential elections using the following strong-worded statement: “Armenia’s leadership missed an important opportunity to advance democratization by holding a credible election.”81 Presidential elections in Armenia were largely assessed as “falling short of international standards.” The International Election Observation Mission, consisting of monitors from the Organization of Security and Cooperation in Europe and the Council of Europe cited “widespread incidence of ballot stuffing throughout the country.”82 While there were obvious violations and the opposition was demanding a recount, Kocharyan and his circle were pointing to the Western double standards to use domestic issues to apply pressure when they found it fit. Much more lenient conclusions reached by the CIS observers’ were called to support this contention. In this context, defense minister Sarkisyan who also served as Kocharyan’s campaign manager noted “regional neighbors understand Armenians better than the foreigners do: The CIS observers know much better our mentality because we were born in the same Soviet territory.”83 The president spoke of his re-election on March 12 and although he “did not want to link the difference between the CIS and OSCE election with the difference in geopolitical interests”, he nevertheless ominously noted that “there are things which refer to the very big policy and about which it is better not to speak. It is better for the country. But this does not mean that we have nothing to say.”84 Behind this “big policy” there was an understanding of the motivations behind the U.S. support of Azerbaijan and its criticism of Armenian elections as fundamentally rooted in oil and geopolitics. On the normative level, this incident exacerbated the skepticism about the “Western” standards and brought to the surface Kocharyan’s famous personal trait, obstinacy. Both in rhetoric and in practice, SarkisyanKocharyan-Oskanian triumvirate, mainly guided by Kocharyan’s personal discontent with the United States, chose to ignore international response

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to the elections. This confidence bordering on open defiance was based on two sources: domestic and international. On the one hand, Russia fully supported Kocharyan amid the domestic turbulence, on the other, the regional situation was also tipping in Armenia’s favor as Turkish-American relations began to deteriorate due to the Iraqi campaign. Reflecting on U.S.-Armenian relations in the context of the election, the Armenian Ambassador to Washington Arman Kirakosyan noted, We are dealing with well-known, classic “republic rationality” in foreign policy in contrast to democratic humanitarianism or to put it more simply, the foreign policy idealism’ peculiar to certain extent to the former administration. This rationality came to the White House with the new administration in January 2001 and after September 11, 2001 it became stronger.85

This statement adequately reflects the changes in the perception of the United States by the Armenian leadership. It was sufficiently informed and well aware about the ideological underpinnings of Washington’s view of the war as “continuation of morality by other means.”86 Yerevan understood sufficiently well that with this power came vulnerability that required consensus of even small states such as Armenia. In these circumstances, election fraud would be an unlikely pretext for keeping Armenia out of the U.S. orbit, particularly considering openly orchestrated elections of Ilham Aliyev in the neighboring Azerbaijan in summer 2003. While, as we have seen in Chapter 2, the regional situation caused by the Iraq invasion allowed for a brief Turkish-Armenian “renaissance,” Yerevan was very cautious in its handling of the Iraqi crisis. At the time, there were speculations that despite Yerevan’s refusal to back the Iraqi campaign, it was the first country to directly benefit from it because the Turkish response cast a shadow on Turkey’s strategic partnership with the United States.87 As early as January 2003, during his meetings with Richard Armitage and Mark Grossman, Vartan Oskanian cautioned Washington that he would not support the military solution. However the ministry was careful to design a balanced response to the crisis by calling on the Iraqi regime to disarm.88 After the invasion, on March 20, the Foreign Ministry expressed concerns over the humanitarian situation in Iraq in view of the fate of the Armenian community. On the following day, another statement was released announcing that Armenia will not be suspending diplomatic relations with the embassy of Iraq in Yerevan. Regarding the risk of antagonizing the United States, a Foreign Ministry official noted that Armenia’s geographical position precluded the U.S. air force from using Armenia as an air corridor, and no such direct requests

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have been made by Washington. As the Foreign Ministry spokeswoman commented, I don’t think there will be the same kind of reaction to Armenia given the state of Armenia-U.S. relations and the basis of it because it’s not based simply on the alliance with regard to this issue. It is a more fundamental relationship based on the interests of the countries, on the big Armenian community living there … on the U.S. role in Nagorno-Karabakh conflict and a number of issues that dictate the relation we have with the U.S.89

In the United States, some seasoned Armenian activists were warning against bandwagoning against Turkey as the fall out is most likely temporary: One should never underestimate the value of the personal, political, business and military ties that give Turkey its standing in the U.S. Armenian opportunism at this point can be seen as further damaging the traditionally strong alliance between the U.S. and Turkey. This is a fluid and unpredictable time, not one for piling on reckless gambles.90

As anywhere, in Yerevan the Iraqi campaign changed the existing public perception of the United States. While no studies have been conducted on this issue, the role of the Russian news media broadcasting in shaping public attitudes in Yerevan had to play a role. Putin’s strong reaction was televised not only in Russia but also Armenia. In his speech, President Putin called the war “unjustifiable and unnecessary.” He posited that “[i]f we allow international law to be replaced by might of the fist, according to which the stronger side is always right, may do so as it likes and is unlimited in its choice of means to accomplish its goal, then a key principle of international law, that of the sanctity of sovereignty of all states, comes into question.”91 Five days after the first assault on Baghdad, the Caucasus Media Institute in Yerevan organized a discussion around Iraq. One of the participants posed an interesting question symptomatic of the general realization of the changing international system. Until the war began, this crisis created a rift not only in the United Nations, but also in transatlantic relations … Does the West that we once knew exist today, or not? We’re seeing America as a new type of force which has never been seen before in the history of man … not even in the form of the Roman Empire.92

This statement resonates with Dallmayr’s poetic description of the new American power as “an entirely unheard-of and amorphous imperial

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structure, an edifice without center and periphery, without obedience and command.”93 I would argue that along with mirroring Russian and French stance on the issue, Yerevan’s refusal to legitimize the invasion of Iraq lay in the necessity to rhetorically reassert independence and sovereignty vis-a-vis this global hegemonic discourse. Those were factors intrinsic to the elite’s conceptualization of the situation and not structural constraints such as Russian-American discord on this issue. Very significant in deliberations on Armenia’s position was the fate of the Armenian community in Iraq and relations with the Muslim world at large. This issue was debated in the Armenian National Assembly and by the political analysts. As one of them noted, There can be little doubt that participation of Armenian peacemakers will have the most deplorable consequences for the Armenian community of Iraq. We should not forget about Armenian communities in many if not almost in all Arabian countries, with which Armenians traditionally have friendly relations. It obliges us to be very careful in making any steps, which can lead to confrontation with the Arab and even with the entire Muslim World.94

If Iraq issue set Armenia apart from the rest of the region, the Rose Revolution in neighboring Georgia signaled Yerevan’s loss of comparative advantage as the only “democratic” polity in the neighborhood. Armenian reaction to the November 2003 events in Georgia was extremely reserved; Yerevan observed with unease the increasing Russian-Georgian tensions over the fate of Russian military bases, Georgia’s pro-Turkish course, stark pro-Americanism and Tbilisi’s sabotage of any regional transportation projects that included Armenia. Via silent language of exclusion, Pentagon barred Armenia from bidding on contracts in the post-war Iraq making it the only country in the region that was not included. In December 2003, Donald Rumsfeld visited Georgia and Azerbaijan bypassing Armenia.95 In Yerevan, this was interpreted as ignoring Armenia. Washington clearly was demanding more from Armenia. Amid this, the U.S. Embassy in Armenia announced the beginning of the construction of its new building on 9-acre land plot in the Yerevan suburbs arguably making it the largest U.S. embassy in the world next to Baghdad.96 The reason behind such an ambitious undertaking is perhaps two-folded. On the one hand, in offering a generous amount of land to the U.S. Embassy, Yerevan attempted to balance with a few resources it had at hand. On the other hand, on the part of Washington, it was a symbolic enhancement of a relationship that has significant limitations but a great potential to change the dynamics within the region. The official statement

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posted on the embassy website referred to “the tremendous expansion of the U.S. relationship with Armenia in recent years.”97 In February 2004, the U.S. administration submitted a budget request to the Congress for foreign assistance programs that allocated Armenia the smallest amount of military aid compared to Georgia and Azerbaijan. According to the request, in FY 2005 Armenia would be getting $2.7 million vis-à-vis $8.7 million to Azerbaijan. Cooperation with Azerbaijan was emphasized as a priority in the fight against terrorism, in addressing U.S.-Iranian tensions and in securing the flow of oil.98 In April 2004, the State Department appointed Ambassador Steven Mann to the post of the special negotiator for Nagorno-Karabakh and Eurasian conflicts. With this, the administration showed that it aims to reactivate the negotiation process that was “paralyzed by the inertia of both sides.”99 In the context of “militarization” of U.S. foreign policy in the region, the utility of the Armenian elite’s decision to reassert itself vis-à-vis the United States was no longer there. This revealed the constraints of the structural dynamics placed on the elite’s ability to play the “anti-systemic” role. The realization of Yerevan’s visible isolation in the region made the administration revise its previous position and display concrete gestures toward Pentagon. In April 2004, Armenia and the United States signed a compact with Armenia according to which, U.S. forces would be able to swap or buy military supplies through the Armenian army.100 Deputy Commanded of U.S. forces in Europe, Charles F. Wald praised the agreement that showed that “Armenia is a full participant in the war on terrorism.” This was a mutually important agreement; symbolically important for Armenia, and militarily—for the United States. For the latter it meant that that the U.S. forces have now a full access to the local supplies throughout the region. Pentagon began to play a leading role in shaping U.S. policy toward the Southern Caucasus, using “the prudent application of soft power” to involve the region in the U.S. orbit.101 During the signing of the agreement, Serzh Sarkisyan committed to sending a military transportation company, engineers, and doctors to Iraq. During his September visit to Poland, Robert Kocharyan reached an agreement with Alexander Kvasnevski on dispatching an Armenian military contingent of fifty soldiers to Iraq under the Polish banner. This agreement was signed without prior consultations and met a significant opposition in the National Assembly and the diaspora driven by concern for the Armenian lives in Iraq. In November, a car bomb went off near Armenian school in Baghdad. The spiritual leader of the Iraqi Armenians sent a letter to the parliament asking not to ratify the decision. The member of the ruling block, Dashnaktsutyun, united with the leading

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opposition party, Ardarutyun (Justice) in protesting the decision. Even the deputy defense minister was quoted as speaking out against dispatching troops. Nevertheless, after an eight-hour closed-door debate in the parliament, ninety-one deputies voted in favor of the proposal with twenty-three against and one abstention. Forty-six Armenian servicemen were dispatched to Iraq in December 2005 for the duration of one year. In his statement to the press, the defense minister noted that “[a]fter the Armenian military specialists have been sent to Iraq, international organizations and states that are involved in combating terrorism will take a more objective attitude to all three South Caucasus states.” To appease the critics of the decision, prime minister Andranik Markaryan explained, “Armenia’s presence is primarily symbolic and for political purposes.”102 On the U.S. domestic stage, the cut in military aid to Armenia was averted yet again through the efforts of the Armenian lobby, and the FY 2005 budget maintained parity in the U.S. military assistance to Armenia and Azerbaijan. Moreover, the Senate adopted the Permanent Normal Trade Relations resolution on Armenia that removed the anachronistic cold war-era provision known as the Jackson-Vanick amendment that tied U.S.-Soviet trade on human rights issues and extended to apply to the FSU as well.103

European Institutions [I]n terms of civilization, for Armenia and the Armenian people the European choice for a political family is based on serious and objective foundations. In many elements of its system of ethno-cultural values, in its geographical location (at the junction of the East-West axis), in its numerous historical and cultural ties with the west, in its Christian faith, and in the existence of an important Armenian Diaspora in western countries as well, in many senses, Armenia and the Armenian people are closer than others to European values.104 The main priority of Armenia’s foreign policy is a gradual comprehensive integration into the European architecture.105

Armenia’s relations with Europe have been outlined as a priority direction of its foreign policy and eventual integration with the European structures as its “strategic vision.”106 The choice of the European direction, its political dividends aside, reveals an interesting identity dynamic. There is not much soul searching involved in this dimension. Like in the case of Iran, choice of European orientation is shared by all the major political forces and public and is rarely questioned. Oscillation between

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Europe and Asia in terms of belonging did not result in any ideational fusion, as in the case of Eurasianism, because Armenia does not need to justify territorial or political expansion as in the case of Russia. It is easy to identify with Europe because of the fluidity of the mental boundaries and maps associated with current geopolitical reality. Historically, Armenians’ long affiliation with the Western political movements, their prominence in the late Soviet political discourse as the carriers of the ideas of ethnic self-determination and democratic reforms makes it easier to claim European heritage. In the post-Soviet narrative of Armenia’s geography Europe is formulated not as a place but an idea and as a set of norms. Europe is more than its common history, more than geography, more than a club for members. All those who’ve said Europe is an idea are right. It is the idea of a Europe that is the common, if unattainable ideal … Armenia is Europe. This is a fact, it’s not a response to a question.107

Armenian diaspora in European countries represents an important Europeanization/globalization tool; it at times injects the Armenian diplomacy with confidence and important “connecting” material lacking among Georgians and Azerbaijanis. Along with diaspora factor, Armenia’s Christian heritage makes the argument for Armenia’s belonging to the European civilizations all the more validated. Along with this picture however there is another reality inherent in the Armenian political thinking and it is the inherent apprehension of the Western institutions and Western hypocrisy toward the Armenians throughout their modern history. Any assault or what is perceived to be an assault on the Armenian diplomatic positions in regards to the Nagorno-Karabakh breeds a feeling of isolation and triggers reminiscence of history. As an Armenian political analyst reflects, Armenia has a negative experience with the Western treatment of the Armenian question, starting from Berlin conference in 1878 to Lozanne conference of 1923. Deriving from this experience, it is very skeptical about international agreements and commitments. Hence, it can only rely on a military guarantor.108

Only this prevailing feeling of insecurity can explain the paradoxical coexistence of the political choice of Europe and strategic alliance with Russia. The two branches of the European architecture, the Council of Europe and the OSCE have been the two main Yerevan’s partners in the European

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vector of its foreign policy. The path to the accession into the Council of Europe was the defining trajectory and the substance of Armenia’s symbolic “quest for Europe.” As Vartan Oskanian notes, Unless the Council of Europe decides to change its name, its broad, inclusive format continues to define today’s and tomorrow’s Europe. How fast and how big the European Union will grow are legitimate questions for the EU to ask, but who or what is Europe are old questions that have been asked and answered.109

The conflict with Azerbaijan puts Yerevan in the vulnerable position vis-à-vis European structures because of the long-standing Turkish membership in the Council of Europe and simply because it was yet another diplomatic front, in which the international discussion of the conflict would take place. Although the resolution of the Nagorno-Karabakh issue has been the main prerogative of the OSCE in the Minsk Group format, it was included on the agenda of the Armenian accession and membership in the Council of Europe along with the issue of democratic reforms. In fact, these two expectations were always linked. As early as 1992, the Committee of Ministers concluded that both Armenia’s and Azerbaijan’s membership “would demand not only the implementation of substantial democratic reforms, but also their commitment to resolve conflicts by peaceful means.”110 In January 1996, Armenia formally applied to the Council of Europe and received a special guest status simultaneously with Azerbaijan as an expression of the Council’s impartiality in regards to the conflict. Despite Ter-Petrosyan administration’s efforts to join the council in 1997–1998, Armenia’s membership was linked at first with Georgia’s and then Azerbaijan’s accession process. Although some Armenian officials deny the existence of the linkage between the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict and a full membership, it appears that authorities in Yerevan were told that Armenia’s full admission is contingent upon the resolution of the conflict.111 However, reversing its position in the view of the potential benefits of the accession upon the resolution process, by June 2000 Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe voted to admit both Armenia and Azerbaijan.112 In November 2000, Armenia received a formal invitation to join the council. The relationship thereafter was conducted within two dimensions: the sphere of democratic reforms and transformation as a principal condition of the CE (Council of Europe) membership and that of conflict resolution. Domestically, the majority of the council’s requirements to reform the existing legislation in accordance with the European standards were

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fulfilled, with an exception of the abolition of the capital punishment that became a thorny issue on the domestic political scene often causing statements about the council’s transgression of Armenia’s sovereignty.113 The recommendation to move to an alternative military service was also met with wide domestic opposition, which argued that unlike European countries, Armenia is at war and is simply not ready for such a readjustment. Another point of discord was the issue of Armenian presidential elections in 2003 that were widely condemned by everyone in Europe, from the OSCE to the CE.114 In the sphere of foreign policy, the membership in the Council of Europe signified “the opening of a new front for the Armenian diplomacy.”115 It also meant that more effort was required from Armenia to defend its positions on the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict within Parliamentary Assembly of the CE as Turkey used its clout to back Azerbaijan. Since 2001, the CE became more visibly active in regards to the Nagorno-Karabakh issue due the necessity to boost its own status with European structures. The importance of PACE to Azerbaijan was demonstrated through the appointment of Ilham Aliyev as the head of Azerbaijani delegation. In July 2002, Aliyev sent a letter to the PACE leadership urging it to replace its current envoy in Azerbaijan, Swiss Parliamentarian, Andreas Gross accusing him of being “pro-Armenian.”116 The council’s activization was not the most positive development for Armenia due to not so balanced statements of the PACE. In September 2001, the assembly expressed its criticism over municipal elections in Nagorno-Karabakh as undermining peace efforts. In January 2005, the assembly adopted a resolution stating that “considerable parts of the territory of Azerbaijan are still occupied by Armenian forces, and separatist forces are still in control of the Nagorno-Karabakh region.”117 Moreover, the resolution called on the cochairs of the OSCE Minsk Group to expedite their efforts to reach a preliminary settlement between the conflicting parties and convene a conference to discuss the status of Nagorno-Karabakh vis-à-vis Azerbaijan. This meant that the council adopted a step-by-step approach, to which Yerevan and Stepanakert were opposed from the beginning. This perception was confirmed by the Azerbaijani commentators who described the wording of the report as a major defeat for Armenia.118 This incident stirred up a debate about the role of the Armenian delegation in PACE and other international organizations that were often unprepared and full of inertia compared to the robust Turkish-Azerbaijani efforts to promote their position in the conflict.119 The BBC interview of the author of the report, British MP David Atkinson was cited in Armenia as the evidence of the existing bias.

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All the countries—members of the Council of Europe respect the principle of territorial integrity. We recognize the present borders of the states— members of the Council of Europe, with the exception of the cases, when the parties, as a result of any disputes, come to agreement on the change of existing borders, as it was, for example, in Czechoslovakia … And if the Karabakh people preserve the current independence, de facto independence from Azerbaijan, and Azerbaijan agrees with it, then we would also recognize it. But apparently the Azerbaijani authorities will never agree with Karabakh’s demands for independence. The same is in the case of other international organizations, e.g., UN. That is why the highest expression of the “right of nations to self-determination,” which is, certainly, independence, cannot be applied in the case of Karabakh.120

Remarkably, the ruling coalition downplayed the negative aspects of the report calling it inconsequential for the resolution of the conflict and stressing that it is not legally binding.121 Nevertheless, the feeling of diplomatic defeat from an organization that the Kocharyan administration valued so highly prevailed. The main critique of the administration concentrated on the neglect by the foreign policy apparatus of the issue of image-building of Armenia and Nagorno-Karabakh on the international stage at the time when Azerbaijan stepped up its PR campaign.122 In this debate, accusations in incompetence of the Armenian delegation at PACE was only outweighed by the criticism of Armenia’s foreign policy that had “suffered defeat after defeat” in reference to the CE condemnation of its presidential elections as well as its disapproval of 2002 presidential elections in Karabakh.123 The perceived diplomatic defeat triggered the syndrome of isolation and of the pervasive sense of Europe’s pro-Azerbaijani bias because of the oil factor. International community’s inclination to bet on a stronger side is an important element of the European tradition. Europe will with no hesitation sacrifice us … the same way it did in 1939 with the Czechs in its deal with Hitler. For this reason, defending Armenia’s interests with the European community should be done in an uncompromising manner and not with patrician softness.124

This militaristic rhetoric of toughness often resurfaces in regard to Europe because of the lack of the enforcement mechanism and because of the absence of substantive guarantees from the European community its requirements notwithstanding. As Serzh Sarkisyan noted: We certainly realize that keeping a numerous army is not in line with our aspirations and priorities of European integration, democratization and

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reforms. However, in contrast with other priorities, which predominantly generate from our national natural interests, having a numerous Armed Forces is a compelling priority, a reliable guarantee to provide security.125

The peculiarity of Armenia’s relationship with Europe lies in the fact that there is a lack of crystallized regional identity and yet Europe prefers to deal with regional states multilaterally, in tandem. Mirroring this paradox, in the absence of basic conditions for such a development to occur, much of the Armenian foreign policy rhetoric in regards to Europe is grounded in the language of “regionalism” and “integration.” Often language of integration is the only reality available to the Armenian policy-makers. Escape from its unfortunate geography to Europe lies through the semantic inclusion of Armenia into the larger Black Sea/Southern Caucasus region.126 The importance of semantics in configuring Armenia’s geopolitical quest in regards to Europe is unequivocally stressed by the deputy foreign minister Rouben Shugarian: What is phased europeanization, how is it translated into the region’s foreign policy agenda, and how can it help to shape the future regional identity? First and foremost, it is the political transfiguration of what was once called Trans-Caucasus into the South Caucasus. The paradox of the situation is that if the region were renamed into the Caucasus without any other geographical indicator, while its landscape would have been widened, its geopolitical semantics would have been narrowed and diminished to a predominantly Russian context. Therefore, this is the case when less is more, or when a smaller territory opens the doors and windows for wider globalization.127

In this geopolitical project, Armenia emerges as a crucial link between the Black Sea region and the Southern Caucasus (West vs. East). Yerevan’s early endorsement of the Black Sea Economic Cooperation (BISEC) was premised upon the idea of unlocking Armenia’s geopolitical trap by constructing the bridge to the West. The major obstacle is the absence of relations with Turkey. The unilaterally closed Turkish-Armenian border bears much more geopolitical semantics than it is generally deemed. First, it is a demarcation line between the South Caucasus and the Black Sea regions. And, second, this border is a virtual Berlin Wall, that not only separates the two countries, but also means that the South Caucasus and Armenia in particular have a closed border with the NATO, and the potential EU membership candidate country, if, of course, the latter meets the standards and criteria offered by Brussels. The possible argument that the Georgian-Turkish and

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the Turkish-Azeri borders are open is not relevant here, because, first, they do not provide sufficient geography to make the interaction of the South Caucasus and the Black Sea regions effective and practical, and, second, because this interaction and oft predicted further merging of the two regions are not a matter of geography, but of geo-politics.128

As an Armenian analyst argues, The South Caucasus is doomed to passivity in both mega-projects. However, within the limits with some other configuration of the states of that region they can anticipate a role of an active player. One of such configurations is the project of the Wider Black Sea provides all three states with the opportunity of being subjects of policy. Within the frames of the Black Sea region, the South Caucasian states on one hand have some possibilities for maneuvering; the comparative freedom of actions may be the first steps toward their transformation into the subjects not only for political space of the Black Sea region, but remote perspective also for the Wider Europe. It is important that South Caucasus is becoming a part of the region, where the results of integration projects are, perhaps, most tangible, as far as in general the economic and political level of development of all Black Sea states is still far behind of the all-European standards, but it is almost the same just on the wider regional level. Moreover, all states of the region, that is still getting its shape, feel their secondary role on the all-European level and are trying to intensify their own efforts.129

The idea of European integration is a very attractive one because it does not place Armenia on the edge of sharp contradictions as in the case of its relations with the United States and Russia. Yerevan makes a clear distinction between its aspiration for the eventual membership in the EU and its participation with NATO although nineteen out of twenty-five EU countries are NATO members. Because the membership is a very remote possibility, Armenia has been able to joggle with its strategic loyalty to Russia and with its European direction simultaneously. Paradoxical as it sounds, Armenia’s current integration into the European structures (OSCE and the Council of Europe) is by no means based upon identity versus political orientation formula. It is here that the country can afford to make a choice, not taking pains to think about the necessity to keep the balance. This choice is not in discord with the policy of complementarity, which does not cease to exist when the europeanization process is started, but goes parallel to it.130

The main limitations that arise on the path to Europeanization are both indigenous and exogenous to the region. On the one hand, from

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the onset of post-Cold war era, the European Union approached the Southern Caucasus region as a complex. By consequence, Brussels’ expectations faced with the reality of the lack of any regional identity and cooperation. On the other hand, there has been much ambiguity about the final objectives toward the region on the part of the European policy-makers. Laden with conflicts and instability, Southern Caucasus became an issue of concern, an object of attention and source of liability. Compounded with the fact that the EU is just emerging as a political and security actor, this creates an image of hesitation and uncertainty. The reluctance of the European lawmakers to transcend bureaucratic approach and formulate a flexible policy toward the Southern Caucasus that takes into account local political and security perceptions makes it an external player not only geographically but strategically. Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the nature of the region has been such that the leaders has sought immediate gains in the form of material assistance and security guarantees, and in Armenia, the European Union was unable to provide both in a manner expected and hoped for. Complementarity that allowed Armenia to reach a balance between Russia and the United States, is inapplicable to its relations with the European Union. EU is an amorphous entity, incapable of creating a regular army due to its internal contradictions. Oppositions’ assurances that EU will become the guarantor of peace in Artsakh is undermined by the fact that the united Europe has no more military divisions than Vatican.131

On the European side, this was seen from a different angle, Understanding problems and lag of perceptions have always existed [between European and Caucasian decision-makers], however, the main one [problem] is the short-term approach of the Caucasian decision-makers who in general wish to draw profit from the relations with the EU on material, financial and political prestige grounds, while Europeans stay on a long-term perspective to bring about real political and economic change. This lag is dwindling, but the common choice to move forward in the same direction remains the problem. We do not know if the choice made by the three countries of the South Caucasus to advance towards Europe is genuine or rhetorical only.132

Yet, the EU is “part and parcel of this vast geopolitical constellation, or power play.”133 Within this power play, the South Caucasus region is viewed as a gateway to Central Asia and Black Sea region, hence as a transit point. EU’s intention to engage with the region as a whole rather than with each country individually was signaled in January 1996 when

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three Partnership and Cooperation Agreements (PCAs) were signed with Armenia, Azerbaijan, and Georgia. These agreements, ratified in 1999, were mainly of economic nature outlining eventual Most Favored Nation treatment and the general criteria for political and economic development with three countries. Although the agreement was praised as a major achievement of Armenian foreign policy, it differed from similar agreements signed with Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania by excluding any promise of future EU membership.134 This fact notwithstanding, the agreement was crucial considering Armenia’s isolation as it opened another outlet for investment and trade.135 In 1996, the EU was the second largest provider of humanitarian assistance to Armenia.136 For the Armenian economy this assistance was crucial, but it was one among many potential benefits. Armenian leadership’s immediate goal in regards to the EU was inclusion into the energy transportation and trade initiatives put forth by Brussels. Such infrastructure—aside from the proclaimed objectives of promoting stability and democracy—was the key driving motivation of the European policy-makers. The overall strategy is to foster peaceful transition and the improvement of EU-NIS relations, with an attempt at coherence of EU action and policy across the area—although direct linkage does not at present exist between foreign policy, on the one hand, and economic and other forms of aid on the other.137

Diversification of oil and gas supplies to Europe has been the overarching objective of Brussels in the Caspian/Central Asian region. In this regards, for Yerevan, the EU is a less radical and more accommodating geopolitical partner, since it does not support the U.S. goal of isolating Russia and Iran from its potential communication projects. Countries such as France and Germany have been very interested in transporting Iranian gas to Europe and to achieve this objective, they both actively participated in outlining the plans for Iran-Armenia-Georgia-Crimea-Ukraine-Europe pipeline. France is interested in the stability of Armenia and Georgia as the most vulnerable transit countries in this design. Germany is the main starter of TRACECA (Transport Corridor Europe-Central Asia) and its main curator. However, at this juncture, Yerevan faced a major obstacle: Turkish-Azerbaijani obstructionism of potential projects, including Armenia. In September 1998, at the TRACECA conference in Baku sponsored by the EU, Armenia was effectively blocked from participating from joint projects. Considering that both TRACECA and INONGATE (Interstate Oil and Gas Transport to Europe) have concentrated on the transportation of Caspian oil and gas to Europe, Armenia’s subsequent

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participation in these programs has been only nominal.138 Within ten years since its inception, the programs have become underfunded and lost their Caspian focus. Much of the disarray within these programs was attributed to the fact that currently “the transit of Caspian oil and gas is a matter for the EU-Russia energy dialogue.”139 On the political front, the EU’s engagement with the region has been “minimal.”140 Largely attributed to its “enlargement fatigue,” this lack of interest is also a direct result of the bureaucratic politics of the EU and the tensions between the Commission, the Council and the Parliament around the level of engagement.141 The main stumbling block for the European policy-makers has been in part its inherent weakness in formulating a coherent policy, its absence of regional ties and an array of frozen conflicts that make the accomplishment of its foreign policy objectives difficult. The EU has thus not been ready to directly intervene in the region; nonetheless, its long-term goals cannot be achieved without some kind of regional cooperation mechanism: “A region has to be created.”142 Paradoxically, in the conditions of the absence of a region, the articulation of the idea of regional integration became the main avenue for the discussion about Armenia’s place within the European architecture. Two “themes” of Armenian’s foreign policy were parallel and interconnected: Armenia’s identification with Europe, search for its role and place in the architecture of Europe and the exclusion of regional and global projects.143 Kocharyan promoted the multilateral vision of the region at the OSCE Istanbul summit calling for a regional security cooperation framework: The present treaty on Conventional Forces Europe does not appear to be sufficient in resolving the existing security problems our sensitive and complex region. It is therefore necessary to devise a regional security system for the South Caucasus, in the wider system of pan European security, which will engage all the parties concerned and primarily those in the region itself. Today, it is our collective challenge to transform the Caucasus from a region of conflicting armies and senseless terrorism to an economic crossroad of peace and prosperity.144

In March 2000, at a special meeting convened to discuss the foreign policy Robert Kocharyan specifically emphasized Armenia’s participation in regional programs, as well as the need to expand cooperation between Armenia and the EU and the Council of Europe.145 In his address to the Georgian Parliament, March 29, 2000, the president outlined a regional security arrangement that placed the EU in the same category with the local regional actors.

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The formula which we are proposing “3 + 3 + 2”—includes all states of the South Caucasus; Russia, Turkey and Iran directly bordering on the region, and the European Union and the United States.146

Generally, late 1990s were characterized by a surge of various proposals for regional cooperation to a large extent catalyzed by the lucrative energy projects. However, they were all doomed to oblivion considering that none of the conflicting parties searched for solutions within the region itself through engaging directly with the other but relied on external players to contribute. The region was becoming more “crowded” as the United States and NATO’s attention to the Southern Caucasus was surging. The first harbinger of emerging strategy was “A Stability Pact for the Caucasus” developed in 2000 by the Center for European Policy Studies (CEPS) akin to the formula applied in Balkan Stability Pact a year earlier. This proposal was similar to Kocharyan’s proposal in the Georgian parliament in terms of the actors involved in the regional security provision however it was structurally different. Aside from the regional states, the troika of the EU, Russia, and the United States would be working in tandem with the regional pair, Iran and Turkey. It is noteworthy that unlike Armenian proposal, the CEPS proposal placed Russia in the same orbit with the external powers and not the regional actors. The document pays particular attention to the issue of the resolution of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, which is described as a “the pivotal case, both in terms of local geography and geo-politics.”147 Moreover, it argues, “[T]he resolution of the [Mountainous Karabakh] conflict, the only one in the region which directly opposes two sovereign entities, is the key to any meaningful progress toward a regional security and co-operation arrangement.”148 The proposal was picked up by the European parliament that adopted a working document drafted by the Swedish Green Party member Per Gahrton in March 2001. On his visit to the region in 2000, Gahrton met with Oskanian who assured him that “working towards Europe was of priority importance and this main decision had been adopted during the first years of Armenian independence.”149 The document recommended EU’s more active involvement in the conflict resolution in the South Caucasus and most importantly called for Brussels to offer Armenia, Georgia and Azerbaijan the prospect of full EU membership.150 On February 28, 2002, the European Parliament adopted a resolution in which it supported the idea of the SPC. The resolution called on the Council “to develop a long-term common strategy with the countries of the South Caucasus.”151 With regard to the SPC, the

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resolution stated, “this framework could draw inspiration from the Stability Pact for the Balkans.”152 In July 2003, the EU appointed a Special Representative to South Caucasus although with a very limited mandate. The Special Representative was not given a direct role in promoting EU energy interests in the region, nor was he empowered to assume an active position in the conflict-resolution process. He was merely authorized to “assist” the existing, UN- and OSCE-sponsored negotiations on conflict settlement.153 Even though the limitations of the mandate signaled EU’s reservations about its involvement in the region, the exclusion of the Southern Caucasus countries from the Wider Europe and the New Neighbors Initiative documents unveiled in November 2003 came as a complete surprise considering that countries such as Morocco, Syria, Moldavia, and Russia were included. The explanation given by the EU officials regarding the omission of the Southern Caucasus read that “the Caucasus region was simply considered too distant to be included” as the report focused on those countries that will be “immediate neighbors” after the union’s eastward expansion.154 November conference in Berlin devoted to the South Caucasus, and Oskanian had made a plea to the European community to include the region in its initiative: Europe has a responsibility to signal that the Caucasus belongs to Europe. In the Caucasus, where Armenia and her neighbors live with unresolved conflicts, such a signal will influence and determine how conflicts are resolved. This would not be a simple affirmation of cultural and religious affinities. This would be the framework within which we would view our futures, our borders, our neighbors. The Caucasus in Europe means a Caucasus where all neighbors quit trying to settle scores, where borders are no longer viewed as barriers … That is, we can advocate bold new initiatives, within the European context, with a common vision for our region. That I believe is our salvation.155

Almost immediately following this decision, President Kocharyan and Defense Minister Serzh Sarkisyan embarked on a trip to Brussels where they met with the EU Commission President Romano Prodi and Commissioner for Enlargement, Gunter Verheugen regarding Armenia’s inclusion into the Wider Europe Initiative. As early as February 26, 2004, the parliament adopted a report that recommended the council to “give the South Caucasus region a defined status in the Wider Europe—New Neighbourhood policy.”156 Following this report, Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia were simultaneously included in “Wider Europe” programm at the EU’s June summit. The

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European Parliament recommended the inclusion of the South Caucasus in the ENP in December 2003, while the European Commission (EC) endorsed this view in its May 2004 strategy paper on ENP. The inclusion was formally approved in June 2004. Conclusion The Western direction of the Armenian foreign policy is characterized by essential duality. On the one hand, the West is being perceived as a unitary actor, on the other—the United States and Europe are dealt with as separate actors, each with their distinct interests. This duality is dictated by the fact that by erasing the boundaries between global and local, United States has become a regional actor in the Southern Caucasus. With its increasing presence in the region, Yerevan is urged to fine-tune its geopolitical tactics and is driven by the fear of isolation. Its already disadvantaged geopolitical position has led some Western commentators to give it an unpleasant label of “the stepchild of the Transcaucasus.”157 As a recurrent theme, the third-worldism displayed through Armenia’s tight partnership with Russia and amicable relations with Iran gives its language a certain “antisystemic” undertone, which is readily exploited by those circles in Washington who are eager to develop the “oil-axis” with Turkey, Azerbaijan and Turkey. What is perceived to be Armenia’s week diplomacy vis-à-vis the United States is mediated by active engagement of the Armenian-American lobby. From examining different factors shaping the U.S.-Armenian relations in the last thirteen years that Yerevan’s “multilateralist” project directly depends on the U.S.-Russian cooperation and, to a lesser extent, on Washington’s Iran policy. On the other hand, Europe represents a normative choice and poses a deeper challenge to the Armenian political practice after the independence. While, the European orientation does not demand hard geopolitical choices, normatively, it requires inner political rethinking and adjustment, which includes reconceptualization of the boundaries and of the region as a whole; radical domestic political reform; and in the long run, resolution of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. On the regional level, while the inclusion of the Southern Caucasus into the New Neighborhood initiative does not give Yerevan security guarantees to counterbalance Russia, it nevertheless imposes a certain structure upon the region that is completely lacking any cooperative framework, in fact, it maps out a region that was not there before. This injects Armenia’s environment with some degree of predictability because “simultaneous accession will most likely provide regional stability.”158

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Most importantly, the expansion of relations with the European structures is a valid paradigm for a country like Armenia whose foreign policy is centered on mitigating the effects of isolation. The vice president of the European Parliament Catherine Lalumière notes, “As regards those three countries, they are considered inside Europe, relying on historical, geographical and cultural criteria.”159 This statement yet once again shifts the geographical boundary, a phenomena, which Armenians are much accustomed to and have always relied on to escape their geopolitical entrapment.

Conclusion: “Ideational Redlines” and “Structural Dynamics” This study has provided an interpretative analysis of Armenia’s Foreign policy since independence. To distill the major challenges and dilemmas facing Armenia in the international sphere, this book focused on exploring four sets of relationships with Armenia’s major historical “partners”: Russia, Iran, Turkey, and the West. This approach of navigating through the various intricacies of foreign policy with these four states simultaneously allowed for the disclosure of Armenia’s place in the region, its role in shaping regional dynamics through patterns of political, cultural, and historical enmity and friendship and, likewise, the continuous fluctuation and reshaping of the narrative of Armenian identity. On the conceptual level, this study examined the complex interaction between agency (as the historical self) and structure (as a regional security complex). For grasping the modality of the Armenian engagement with the regional powers and the world, an understanding of the underlying concerns inherent in Armenian nationalism is of paramount importance. This becomes evident considering that the emotional politics of the Nagorno-Karabakh movement has defined Armenia’s options in the years following the end of the Soviet Union. The existence of such an explosive issue on the onset of independence has determined that all major foreign policy moves would be continuously negotiated from the standpoint of history and collective memory. Whether the political calculus of decision-making boils down to pragmatic calculations of the elite, which is facing a highly volatile, insecure geopolitical environment and domestic opposition, or whether certain choices have been guided by the logic of self-preservation of the regime itself, the fact remains that the conflict serves as a filter and provides a framework within which Armenian

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foreign policy functions. In essence, the Armenian political and strategic thought has remained “handcuffed” to history, regardless of whether it negated history’s importance or resurrected various themes, thus making historicity of paramount importance for grasping the post-Soviet Armenian identity. This became evident in the worldview of the first Armenian president, Levon Ter-Petrosyan, who strove to rid contemporary Armenian political thinking from having to be bound by the past while Armenia was facing new beginnings. By neutralizing “the other,” Turkey, that is, by attempting to transform it from being Armenian’s natural and historical foe to an economic partner, he hoped to change this historical narrative while radically improving Armenia’s geopolitical position. Paradoxically, his attempts were conducted concurrently during the most intense moments of the war in Nagorno-Karabakh. The conflict would greatly sensitize the discourse and practice of domestic politics to the question of war and would reify the historically constructed set of constraints on the possibilities of change in Armenia’s external politics. Moreover, this milieu of the conflict would greatly determine the trajectory of Armenia’s political development toward that of a strong presidential system. Thus, the prominence of the military in Armenian politics, particularly during Ter-Petrosyan’s presidency, completely undermined his efforts at escaping these traditional security perceptions. Importantly, these perceptions dictated that Armenia’s immediate adversaries were Turkey and Azerbaijan; that its security depends on the military alliance with Russia and that its survival is conditional upon the independence of Nagorno-Karabakh from Azerbaijan. According to the “hardliners,” as long as these conditions were fulfilled, Armenia could pursue what it deemed a “successful” foreign policy with multiple international actors articulated as a policy of “complementarity.” It was formulated at the beginning of the second presidential administration and was conceived as the demonstration of Armenia’s goodwill and ability at skillful balancing. However, this policy was in fact a linguistic device to mask the constraints that Armenia was facing. At its core, “complementarity” was the product of interaction between a unique historical self-conception and the regional structure: the result has been the rearticulation of Armenia’s “smallness” into an idea of strength. In fact, if Ter-Petrosyan deemed historical thinking to be a point of weakness and vulnerability; Kocharyan viewed history as a resource. The key independent variable in this interaction was not the agent, or the structure, but the interaction between the two articulated through a particular narrative that constituted each relationship.

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The duality of the Armenian contemporary identity that carries within itself such contradictory self-conceptions as post-Soviet inferiority complexes and uniqueness, self-victimization and pride, peacefulness and militarism, defiance and acquiescence has determined a very particular style of relating to the region. It is most vividly reflected in the manner in which these self-characteristics are constantly rearticulated in its relations with the neighbors and the challenges Armenia faces in engaging in those relations. Europe and Iran are the “ideational” others, the partners that most strongly speak to Armenia’s normative pursuit in the contemporary world. Russia and the United States, on the other hand, represent the powerful structural forces that define the regional security complex, in which Armenia operates. Beyond a simple exercise of diplomacy, Armenia’s foreign policy between 1991 and 2005 should be analyzed as a vital tool that has served several major goals: repairing the effects of the Nagorno-Karabakh on Armenia’s regional position through seeking alignments with the various actors; serving as a channel for the diaspora’s campaign for genocide recognition; defending elite’s corporate interest. But most importantly, Armenia’s foreign policy has been a result of a process of continuous negotiation between the boundaries drawn by a set of ideas that constitute the self and the geopolitical challenges.

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Notes Introduction 1. This diversity led some scholars to speak of many existing “postsocialisms.” See C. M. Hann, Postsocialism: Ideals, Ideologies, and Practices in Eurasia (London; New York: Routledge, 2002). 2. Armen Aivazian, Essential Elements for Armenia’s National Security Doctrine: Part I (Erevan: 2003). Quoted in Eddie Arnavoudian, Review of “Essential Elements for Armenia’s National Security Doctrine; Part I” by Armen Aivazian (Armenian News Network/Groong, 2004 [cited July 2004]). 3. Khachik Der-Ghoukasian and Richard Giragosian. 4. Aivazian, Essential Elements for Armenia’s National Security Doctrine. 5. Barry Buzan, Ole Waever, and Jaap de Wilde, Security: A New Framework for Analysis (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 1998), pp. 422–423. 6. Alexander Rondeli, “Regional Security Prospects in the Caucasus,” in Crossroads and Conflict: Security and Foreign Policy in the Caucasus and Central Asia, ed. Gary K. Bertsch, Cassady B. Craft, and Scott A. Jones (New York: Routledge, 2000), p. 51. 7. Rick Fawn, Ideology and National Identity in Post-Communist Foreign Policies, 1st ed. (London; Portland, OR: Frank Cass, 2003). Jeanne A. K. Hey, Small States in World Politics: Explaining Foreign Policy Behavior (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2003), Efraim Inbar and Gabriel Sheffer, The National Security of Small States in a Changing World (London; Portland, OR: Frank Cass, 1997). 8. N. O. Oganesian, The Foreign Policy of the Republic of Armenia in the Transcaucasian-Middle Eastern Geopolitical Region (Yerevan: Noyan Tapan, 1998). Gayane Novikova, Orientiry Vneshney Politiki Armenii: Sbornik Analiticheskikh Statey (Erevan: “Antares,” 2002). Samvel Oganesian and David Petrosian, Armeniia, Evropa, Aziia: Koridory I Perekrestki [Armenia, Europe and Asia: Corridors and Crossroads] (Yerevan: Armenian Center for National and International Studies, 2001). 9. Gerard J. Libaridian, The Challenge of Statehood: Armenian Political Thinking since Independence, 1st ed., Human Rights & Democracy (Watertown, MA: Blue Crane Books, 1999).

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10. Ronald Grigor Suny, “Provisional Stabilities: The Politics of Identities in Post-Soviet Eurasia,” International Security 24, no. 3 (Winter, 1999–2000), p. 147. 11. Levon Abrahamian, Armenian Identity in a Changing World, Armenian Studies Series, No. 8 (Costa Mesa, CA: Mazda Publishers, 2006), p. xii. 12. Razmik Panossian, The Armenians: From Kings and Priests to Merchants and Commissars (New York: Columbia University Press, 2006), p. 175. 13. M. Papadakis and H. Starr, 1987. “Opportunity, Willingness, and Small States: The Relationship between Environment and Foreign Policy,” in Charles F. Hermann, Charles W. Kegley, and James N. Rosenau, New Directions in the Study of Foreign Policy (Boston: Allen & Unwin, 1987), pp. 420–421. 14. Robert Keohane, “Lilliputian Dilemmas: Small States in International Politics,” International Organization 23, no. 2 (1969): 210–219; Robert L. Rothstein, Alliances and Small Powers (New York: Columbia University Press, 1968). 15. Papadakis and Starr, “Opportunity, Willingness, and Small States,” p. 430. 16. Ibid., p. 420. 17. Stefano Guzzini, Realism in International Relations and International Political Economy: The Continuing Story of a Death Foretold (London; New York: Routledge, 1998). 18. I am indebted to Nicholas Onuf for the insights on this point; Damian Fernandez, “Cuba: Talking Big, Acting Bigger,” in Latin American and Caribbean Foreign Policy, ed. Frank O. Mora and Jeanne A. K. Hey (Rowan & Littlefield, 2003). 19. Walter Carlsnaes, “The Agency-Structure Problem in Foreign Policy Analysis,” International Studies Quarterly 36, no. 3 (1992): 261. 20. Bill McSweeney, Security, Identity, and Interests: A Sociology of International Relations, Cambridge Studies in International Relations 69 (Cambridge [England]; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1999), p. 166. 21. Iver B. Neumann and Ole Wµver, The Future of International Relations: Masters in the Making? (London; New York: Routledge, 1997). 22. Janice Belly Mattern, “The Difference That Language-Power Makes,” in Language, Agency, and Politics in a Constructed World, ed. Franðcois Debrix (Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 2003), p. 154. 23. Sanjoy Banerjee, “The Cultural Logic of National Identity Formation: Contending Discourses in Late Colonial India,” in Culture & Foreign Policy, ed. Valerie Hudson (Boulder, CO: L. Rienner Publishers, 1997), p. 33. 24. Jef Huysmans, “Defining Social Constructivism in Security Studies: The Normative Dilemma of Writing Security,” Alternatives 27, Special Issue (2002); Buzan, Waever, and Wilde, Security. 25. Peter J. Katzenstein, The Culture of National Security: Norms and Identity in World Politics, New Directions in World Politics (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996).

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26. Efraim Karsh, “Cold War, Post–Cold War: Does It Make a Difference for the Middle East?,” Review of International Studies 23 (1997). 27. Barry Buzan and Ole Wµver, Regions and Powers: The Structure of International Security, Cambridge Studies in International Relations 91 (Cambridge [England]; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003), p. 44. 28. Ibid., p. 48. 29. Ibid., p. 52. 30. Panossian, The Armenians, p. 189. 31. Richard G. Hovannisian, The Republic of Armenia, vol. 4 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1971), p. 192. 32. Ibid., p. 407. 33. Panossian, The Armenians, p. 248. 34. This book uses the term “Armenian forces in Nagorno-Karabakh” to signify the irregular units composed of Armenians from Armenia and diaspora and the regular Nagorno-Karabakh army that was officially formed in summer 1992. Its structure and military command is distinct from the army of the Republic of Armenia. 35. Ronald Grigor Suny, Looking toward Ararat: Armenia in Modern History (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1993), p. 4. 36. Abrahamian, Armenian Identity in a Changing World, p. 10. 37. Sankaran Krishna, “Mimetic History: Narrating India through Foreign Policy,” in Handcuffed to History: Narratives, Pathologies, and Violence in South Asia, ed. S. P. Udayakumar (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2001), p. 43. 38. William Bloom, Personal Identity, National Identity, and International Relations, Cambridge Studies in International Relations 9 (Cambridge [England]; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1990), p. 80. 39. Armen Aivazian, “Possible Solutions to the Nagorno-Karabakh Problem: A Strategic Perspective,” in The Making of Nagorno-Karabagh: From Secession to Republic, ed. Levon Chorbajian (Houndmills [England]; New York: Palgrave, 2001), p. 210. 40. Guzzini, Realism in International Relations and International Political Economy, p. 233. 41. Abrahamian, Armenian Identity in a Changing World, p. 260. 42. Eviatar Zerubavel, Time Maps: Collective Memory and the Social Shape of the Past (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003), p. 89. 43. Levon Mikaelyan, “Vechni Lish Natsiya I Rodina” [Nation and homeland are eternal categories], Golos Armenii, May 27, 2004. 44. Johan Galtung, “The Construction of National Identities for Cosmic Drama: Chosenness-Myths-Trauma (Cmt) Syndromes and Cultural Pathologies,” in Handcuffed to History: Narratives, Pathologies, and Violence in South Asia, ed. S. P. Udayakumar (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2001), p. 67. 45. Ibid. 46. Aivazian, “Possible Solutions to the Nagorno-Karabakh Problem,” p. 207. 47. “Global Trends 2015,” (CIA, 2004).

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Chapter 1 1. Sergei Arustamian, Khroniki Smutnogo Vremeni, vol. 1 (Erevan: Izd-vo. RAU, 2002), p. 14. 2. Ruben Shugarian, “The Idea of Regional Cooperation in the Context of Foreign Policy of Armenia,” in Orientiry Vneshneæi Politiki Armenii: Sbornik Analiticheskikh Statei, ed. Gayane Novikova (Erevan: Antares, 2001), p. 12. 3. Aivazian, “Possible Solutions to the Nagorno-Karabakh Problem: A Strategic Perspective,” p. 227. 4. Francois Debrix, “Language, Nonfoundationalism, International Relations,” in Language, Agency, and Politics in a Constructed World, ed. Francois Debrix (Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 2003). 5. Suny, Looking toward Ararat: Armenia in Modern History, p. 18. 6. Tony Halpin and John Hughes, “Living with Big Brother: Armenia-Russia Relations Are Based on Language, Culture and, Lately, Economics,” ArmeniaNow.com, May 19, 2006. 7. Panossian, The Armenians: From Kings and Priests to Merchants and Commissars, p. 191. 8. Ronald Suny tellingly describes the Armenian dilemma of 1918: Of the three major nationalities of Transcaucasia, the Armenians were in greatest danger in the spring 1918. The Azerbaijanis stood to benefit from a Turkish victory that would eliminate the Armenian threat and restore Baku to the control of the Muslims. The Georgians were willing to deal with the Turks and the Germans for guarantees that Georgian lands would not be annexed by Turkey. But the Armenians were an obstacle to the realization of the Pan-Turkic plans of a Muslim state stretching from Istanbul through Caucasia to Central Asia. The Dashnaktsutyun was in extremely vulnerable position. The party was opposed to separation from Russia, but Russia was now unable to aid the Armenians against the Turks. Therefore the party leaders in Tiflis reluctantly went along with the Georgian Mensheviks, and the Azerbaijanis and gave into Turkish pressure to declare Transcaucasia an independent state on April 22, 1918. About the same time the Dashnaks of Baku a city then firmly in the hands of a Bolshevik-led Soviet, opposed the Seim’s declaration of independence and recognized Soviet Russian authority. Suny, Looking toward Ararat: Armenia in Modern History, pp. 124–125.

9. Quoted in “Ispoved’ Politicheskogo Lidera,” Golos Armenii., January 26 1991. 10. Quoted in Panossian, The Armenians: From Kings and Priests to Merchants and Commissars., p. 192. 11. This plan never came about because of the American and British opposition. The Soviet pressure throughout 1944 and 1945 played a great role

Notes

12. 13.

14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19.

20.

21.

22. 23.

24. 25. 26. 27.

28.

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in doing away with Turkish neutrality and Ankara’s eventual decision to side with the Western camp in the Cold War. Suny, Looking toward Ararat: Armenia in Modern History, p. 186. V. A. Shnirelman, Voiny Pamiati: Mify, Identichnost’ I Politika V Zakavkaz’e [War of Memories: Myths, Identity, and Politics in Transcaucasus] (Moscow: IKTS “Akademkniga,” 2003). George Schèopflin, Nations, Identity, Power (New York: New York University Press, 2000), p. 93. Quoted in Panossian, The Armenians: From Kings and Priests to Merchants and Commissars, p. 192. “Otkritoe Pismo Zoriya Balayana Borisu Yeltsinu” [Zory Balayan’s Open Letter to Boris Yeltsin], Golos Armenii, February 6, 1991. Abrahamian, Armenian Identity in a Changing World, p. 258. Zory Balayan, Between Hell and Heaven: The Struggle for Karabakh (Yerevan: Amaras, 1997). In response to the Armenian demands, in February 1988 pogroms took place against Armenians in various Azerabaijani cities, with Sumgait being most notorious and tragic example, when tens of people were brutally murdered and hundreds wounded by the angry mob. Richard G. Hovannisian, “Historical Memory and Foreign Relations: The Armenian Perspective,” in The Legacy of History in Russia and the New States of Eurasia, ed. S. Frederick Starr (Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1994), pp. 237–276. Levon Ter-Petrosyan, “Moskvan Ayl Entrank Chouni” [Moscow Has No Alternative], Hayk, January 28, 1990. Quoted in Stephan H. Astourian, From Ter-Petrosian to Kocharian: Leadership Change in Armenia (Winter 2000–2001 [cited]); available from http://garnet.berkeley.edu/~bsp/ publications/2000_04-asto.pdf, p. 19. Nora C. Dudwick, “Memory, Identity and Politics in Armenia” (PhD dissertation, University of Pennsylvania, 1994). Dobrinka Kostova Christian Giardano, “The Social Production of Mistrust,” in Postsocialism: Ideals, Ideologies, and Practices in Eurasia, ed. C. M. Mann (London; New York: Routledge, 2002), pp. 77–78. Ibid. Abrahamian, Armenian Identity in a Changing World, p. 74. Dudwick, “Memory, Identity and Politics in Armenia,” pp. 411–412. Rafael Ishkhanyan, “The Law of Excluding the Third Force,” in The Challenge of Statehood: Armenian Political Thinking since Independence, ed. Gerard J. Libaridian (Watertown, MA: Blue Crane Books, 1999), pp. 31–33. M. Nersisyan, “Hay Rusakan Qaghakakan Haraberutyunneri Patmutyan Mi Kani Hartseri Masin” [On several issues regarding the RussianArmenian political ties], in Patmutyan Keghtsararnery [Falsifiers of history], ed. M. Nersisyan (Erevan: 1998).

184

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29. Sergey Sarinian. Haykakan Gaghaparabanoutyoun [Armenian ideology]. Quoted in Astourian, From Ter-Petrosian to Kocharian: Leadership Change in Armenia), p. 40. 30. Francois Hartog and Jacques Revel, “Historians and the Present Conjuncture,” in Political Uses of the Past, the Recent Mediterranean Experience, ed. Jacques Revel and Giovanni Levi (London; Portland, OR: Routledge, 2002), p. 4. 31. Rafael Ishkhanyan, “Mahvan Chanaparhe Yev Kyanki Chanaparhe” [The path of death and the path of life], Hayk, January 28, 1990. Quoted in Astourian, From Ter-Petrosian to Kocharian: Leadership Change in Armenia, p. 18. 32. Dmitriy Furman, Kulturniye I Sotsialno-Psykhologicheskiye Osnovy Sovermennogo Armnyanskogo Natsionalnogo Dvijeniya [Cultural, Social and Psychological Foundations of the Contemporary Armenian National Movement] (Moscow: The Gorbachev Fund, 1993), p. 15. 33. Astourian, From Ter-Petrosian to Kocharian: Leadership Change in Armenia, p. 33. 34. Ibid., p. 27. 35. Shopflien, p. 67. 36. Ibid., p. 15. 37. Lowell W. Barrington, After Independence: Making and Protecting the Nation in Postcolonial & Postcommunist States (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2006). 38. Michael P. Croissant, The Armenia-Azerbaijan Conflict: Causes and Implications (Westport, CO: Praeger, 1998), p. 81. 39. George S. Harris, “The Russian Federation and Turkey,” in Regional Power Rivalries in the New Eurasia: Russia, Turkey, and Iran, ed. Alvin Z. Rubinstein and Oles M. Smolansky (Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1995), p. 17. 40. Astourian, From Ter-Petrosian to Kocharian: Leadership Change in Armenia, p. 33. 41. An interview with Levon Ter-Petrosyan, Izvestiya, February 1, 1992. Reprinted in Hayastani Hanrapetut’Yun, (Erevan). 42. Thomas de Waal, Myths and Realities of Karabakh War (May 1, 2003); available from http://iwpr.net/?p=crs&s=f&o=160833&apc_state=henicrs2003. 43. Ibid. 44. Thomas De Waal, Black Garden: Armenia and Azerbaijan through Peace and War (New York: New York University Press, 2003), pp. 200–205. 45. Hovannisian, “Historical Memory and Foreign Relations: The Armenian Perspective,” p. 251. 46. De Waal, Black Garden: Armenia and Azerbaijan through Peace and War, pp. 200–205. 47. Ibid. 48. E. H. Likhosherstov, I. A. Dyachuk, and V. C. Verkin, “Geopoliticheskiy Aspekt Rossiysko-Iranskix Vzaimootosheniy” [Geopolitical aspect of Russian-Iranian relations], in Iranskiy Mir I Yug Rossii: Proshloe I

Notes

49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55.

56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69.

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Sovremennye Perspektivy—Sbornik Nauchnykh Statei, ed. V. V. Chernous (Rostov-na-Donu, Russia: Izd-vo SKNëTìS VSh, 2004), p. 172. Croissant, The Armenia-Azerbaijan Conflict: Causes and Implications, p. 91. Ibid. Ronald Grigor Suny David D. Laitin, “Armenia and Azerbaijan: Thinking a Way out of Karabakh,” Middle East Policy 7, no. 1 (1999): 159. David Kerr, “The New Eurasianism: The Rise of Geopolitics in Russia’s Foreign Policy,” Europe-Asia Studies 47, no. 6 (1995): 982. Vitaly Naumkin, “Russia and Transcaucasia,” Caucasian Regional Studies 3, no. 1 (1998). Dmitri Trenin, “Russian Security Interests and Policies in the Caucasian Region,” in Contested Borders in the Caucasus, ed. Bruno Coppieters (Brussels; Concord, MA: VUBPRESS, 1996). Celeste A. Wallander, “Conflict Resolution and Peace Operations in the Former Soviet Union. Is There a Role for Security Institutions?,” in The International Dimension of Post-Communist Transitions in Russia and the New States of Eurasia, ed. Karen Dawisha (Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1997), p. 108. Croissant, The Armenia-Azerbaijan Conflict: Causes and Implications, p. 118. Kseniya G. Myalo, Rossiya I Poslednie Voyni Xx-Ogo Veka (1989–2000) (Moscow: Veche, 2002). V. G. Mityaev, “Vnuterpoliticheskie Problemi V Nezavisimoy Armenii,” in Armenìya: Problemy Nezavisimogo Razvitiya, ed. E. M. Kozhokin (Moscow: Rossiyskiy in-t strategicheskikh issledovaniy, 1998), p. 98. “Armenia Seeks Closer Ties with Russia,” in Monitor (Jamestown Foundation, July 8, 1996). Ibid. Joseph R. Masih and Robert O. Krikorian, Armenia: At the Crossroads (Amsterdam: Harwood Academic Publishers, 1999), p. 107. “Armenia Signs Military Alliance with Russia,” Prism 3, no. 14 (Jamestown Foundation, September 12, 1997). Croissant, The Armenia-Azerbaijan Conflict: Causes and Implications, p. 134. Myalo, Rossiya I Poslednie Voyni Xx-Ogo Veka (1989–2000). Laitin, “Armenia and Azerbaijan: Thinking a Way out of Karabakh.” “Armenia: Armenian Leader Says No Limits to Cooperation with Russia,” (FBIS-SOV-97-334, November 30, 1997). Svante E. Cornell, Small Nations and Great Powers: A Study of Ethnopolitical Conflict in the Caucasus, Caucasus World (Richmond, UK: Curzon, 2001), p. 16. “Armenia: Armenian Parliament Accepts Ter-Petrosyan Resignation,” (FBIS-SOV-98-035, February 7, 1998). Gevork Ter-Gabrielian, Explaining Armenia: An Insider’s View (1998); available from http://groong.usc.edu/ro/ro-19980207.html.

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70. “Armenia: Kocharyan Reviews National, Regional Issues,” (FBISSOV-98-097, April 7, 1998). 71. “Armenian Crisis Opens Door for Russia,” (Stratfor, October 28,1999). 72. “Internal and External Forces Vie for Power in Armenia” (Stratfor, October 28, 1999). 73. “Russia Uses Armenian Crisis to Own Ends” (Stratfor, October 28, 1999). 74. “USA Trying to Break up Armenian–Russian Military Relations, General Says” (Eurasianet, May 18, 2000). 75. “Russia: Kocharyan Regrets Weak Economic Links With Russia” (FBISSOV-98-069, March 10, 1998). 76. “Russia: Armenian Speaker; Russian Relations Unaffected by Change,” (FBIS-SOV-98-050, February 19, 1998). 77. “Armenian Official Interviewed on Russia, Turkey, Azerbaijan,” (FBISSOV-98-129, May 9, 1998). 78. Kim Iskyan, “Armenia in Russia’s Embrace,” Moscow Times, March 24, 2004. 79. “Armenian Diaspora Influence on Caucasus Issues Examined,” (FBISSOV-2001-0316, March 15, 2001). 80. Gennadiy Chufrin, The Security of the Caspian Sea Region (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2001), p. 15. 81. Ibid. 82. Oksana Antonenko, “Russia’s Policy in the Caspian Sea Region: Reconciling Economic and Security Agendas,” in The Caspian: Politics, Energy and Security, ed. Shirin Akiner (London; New York: RoutledgeCurzon, 2004), p. 247. 83. Myalo, Rossiya I Poslednie Voyni Xx-Ogo Veka (1989–2000). 84. Ibid. 85. Rossiya I Armenia: Dvukhstoronnie Vzaimootnosheniya V Svete Izmenyayuschikhsya Vneshnepoliticheskix Prioritetov I Orientirov Armyanskoy Eliti [Russia and Armenia: Bilateral Relations in the Light of the Changing Foreign Policy Priorities and Orientations of the Armenian Elite] (February 2001); available from http://www.e-journal.ru/p_bzarub-st2-12.html. 86. Ibid. 87. “Armenian Agency Comments on Russia’s S. Caucasus Policy,” (FBISSOV-2000-0216, February 3, 2000). 88. Chufrin, The Security of the Caspian Sea Region, p. 16. 89. Rossiya I Armenia: Dvukhstoronnie Vzaimootnosheniya V Svete Izmenyayuschikhsya Vneshnepoliticheskix Prioritetov I Orientirov Armyanskoy Eliti (Russia and Armenia: Bilateral Relations in the Light of the Changing Foreign Policy Priorities and Orientations of the Armenian Elite). 90. “Analyst: Kocharyan Turning Armenia into Dictatorship,” (FBISSOV-2001-0614, June 12, 2001). 91. “Azerbaijani Political Observer Interprets Armenian, Russian Moves in Karabakh,” (FBIS-SOV-2003-0821, July 23, 2003). 92. Boris Komarov, Armenian “Traces” in the Proliferation of Russian Weapons in Iran, Acpr Policy Paper; No. 143; Variation: Policy Papers (Merkaz Ariel

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Le-Mehkere Mediniyut); 143. (Shaarei Tikva, Israel: ACPR Publishers, 2002), p. 7. 93. Iskyan, “Armenia in Russia’s Embrace.” 94. Ibid. 95. Giragosian, Armenian-Russian Relations: “Strategic Partnership” or Too Close for Comfort? (RFE/RL Newline, July 31 2002 [cited October 2004]); available from www.rferl.org/newsline/2002/07/5-NOT/not310702.asp. 96. Ibid. 97. “Armenian President’s Visit to Russia Aims to Drum up Support in Elections,” (FBIS-SOV-2003-0214, February 10, 2003). 98. Richard Giragosian, Armenian-Russian Relations: ‘Strategic Partnership’ or Too Close for Comfort?. 99. “Putin Congratulates Armenian President on ‘Convincing, Impressive’ Poll Victory,” (FBIS-SOV-2003-0308, March 8, 2003). 100. Igor Muradyan, 2001. 101. “Interview with Armenian National Movement Chairman Ararat Zurabian,” Orran Daily, May 16, 2003. 102. Janet Ekmekjian, “The Communist Party Will Not Allow Anti-Russian Sentiments to Develop,” Hayots Ashkharh August 20, 2004. 103. Rouben Khachatrian, “Rukami Politikov [By the hands of the politicians],” Golos Armenii, May 3, 2004. 104. “Kremlin Support for Armenian President Kocharyan at Moscow Talks Predicted,” (FBIS-SOV-2004-0514, May 14, 2004). 105. Emil Danielyan, “The Closure of the Russian-Georgian Border Stands to Accelerate the Decline in Russian-Armenian Commercial Ties,” (EurasiaNet, October 19, 2004). 106. Ibid. 107. “100 Let Bez Turtsii I Bez Rossii” [100 years without Turkey and Russia], Golos Armenii, October 19, 2004. 108. “Armenia’s Foreign Policy, Orientation, and Attitude towards Power Centers of the World,” (Armenian Center for National and International Studies, April–May 2004). 109. Martha Brill Olcott, “U.S. Policy in the South Caucasus,” Quarterly Journal 3 (September 2002): 62. 110. Vartan Oskanian, “Armenia’s Evolving Relations with United States, Europe,” (CSIS, June 14, 2004). 111. Alvin Z. Rubinstein, “The Transformation of Russian Foreign Policy,” in The International Dimension of Post-Communist Transitions in Russia and the New States of Eurasia, ed. Karen Dawisha (Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1997), p. 61. 112. Terrence P. Hopmann, Stephen D. Shenfield, and Dominique Arel, Integration and Disintegration in the Former Soviet Union (Program on Global Security: Thomas J. Watson Jr. Institute for International Studies, Brown University, 1997 [cited October 21, 2004]); available from http://www.watsoninstitute.org/pub/OP30.pdf.

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Chapter 2 1. “Armenia Said Aiming at Breaking Turkish-U.S. Ties,” (FBISSOV-2001-0703, July 1, 2001). 2. “Armenian President Says Turkey Should Open up Archives, Say Sorry for Genocide,” (FBIS-SOV-2001-0202, February 2, 2001). 3. Galtung, “The Construction of National Identities for Cosmic Drama: Choseness-Myths-Trauma (Cmt) Syndromes and Cultural Pathalogies,” p. 67. 4. Sam Brannen, “Diasporic Armenian Nationalist Invocations of Metaphorical Space, Frozen Time, and the 1915 Genocide” (paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the International Studies Association, Le Centre Sheraton Hotel, Montreal, Quebec, Canada, 2004). 5. Peter Novick, The Holocaust in American Life (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1999); James V. Wertsch, Voices of Collective Remembering (Cambridge, UK; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002); Pierre Nora and Lawrence D. Kritzman, Realms of Memory: Rethinking the French Past, 3 vols., European Perspectives (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996). 6. Wertsch, Voices of Collective Remembering, p. 42. 7. Zerubavel, Time Maps: Collective Memory and the Social Shape of the Past, p. 40. 8. Antonis Liakos, “The Construction of National Time: The Making of the Modern Greek Historical Imagination,” in Political Uses of the Past: The Recent Mediterranean Experience, ed. Jacques Revel and Giovanni Levi (London; Portland, OR: F. Cass, 2002), p. 29. 9. For an in-depth historical account on the period preceding the Sovietization of Armenia see Hovannisian, The Republic of Armenia, vol. 4, Between Crescent and Sickle: Partition and Sovietization. 10. Ibid., p. 176. 11. Ibid., p. 180. 12. The futility of the Armenian faith in the European protections and the depth of their abandonment by virtually everyone is demonstrated by the words of a British official: We shall never hear the end of Armenia’s indignant rejection of the Bolshevik offer and her unshakeable fidelity to the Allies . . . I wish the Armenians would accept the Bolshevik terms and purchase peace at the cost of a rupture with the Allies. Unfortunately they realize it will pay them better to continue to play the role of Joseph repelling the advances of Potiphar’s wife and to represent themselves as the last line of the Allied defense against a Bolshevik invasion of Asia. Hovannisian, The Republic of Armenia, p. 222. 13. Ibid., p. 292. 14. This is how Richard Hovannisian tellingly describes the proceedings of the last hours of the negotiations between the Dashnak leadership and Turkish general Kiazim Karabekir:

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Khatisian’s appeals for the inclusion of the medieval capital city of Ani, the imposing ruins of which lay on the western bank of the Arpachai River, were rejected. No more successful were his special pleadings for the Turks to preserve the territorial integrity of Erevan province by leaving to Armenia the county of Surmalu and Mount Ararat because of historic-symbolic considerations, the importance of keeping the plain of Ararat intact as a single entity, and the economic significance of the Sharur-Nakhichevan region as the primary avenue of trade and communication with Persia … The Armenian agony in Alexandropol concluded with a subdued banquet at 3 o’clock in the morning and the recitation of hollow expressions about a new era in Turco-Armenian relations. The devastating treaty transformed Armenia into a small, land-locked rump state around Erevan and Lake Sevan. Ibid., p. 398. 15. Cornell, Small Nations and Great Powers: A Study of Ethnopolitical Conflict in the Caucasus, p. 288. 16. Paul Rouben Adalian, “Armenia’s Foreign Policy: Defining Priorities and Coping with Conflict,” in The Making of Foreign Policy in Russia and the News States of Eurasia, ed. Adeed Dawisha and Karen Dawisha (Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1995), p. 317. 17. Irmina Matonyte, Elites in Soviet and Post-Soviet Societies (2002 [cited June 15, 2004]); available from http://www.anthrobase.com/Txt/M/ Matonyte_I_01.htm. 18. Libaridian, The Challenge of Statehood: Armenian Political Thinking since Independence, p. 1. 19. Furman, Kulturniye I Sotsialno-Psykhologicheskiye Osnovy Sovermennogo Armnyanskogo Natsionalnogo Dvijeniya. [Cultural, Social and Psychological Foundations of the Contemporary Armenian National Movement], p. 8. 20. Dudwick, “Memory, Identity and Politics in Armenia,” p. 421. 21. Kristine Barseghyan, “Rethinking Nationhood: Post-Independence Discourse on National Identity in Armenia,” Polish Sociological Review, no. 4 (2003), p. 409 22. Libaridian, The Challenge of Statehood: Armenian Political Thinking since Independence, p. 6. 23. Declaration of Independence (cited December 10, 2006); available from http://www.armeniaforeignministry.com/htms/doi.html. 24. Shnirelman, Voiny Pamiati: Mify, Identichnost’ I Politika V Zakavkaz’e [War of Memories: Myths, Identity, and Politics in Transcaucasus], p. 95. 25. Gevork Ter-Gabrielian and Ara Nedolian, “Armenia: Crossroads or Fault Line of Civilizations?,” International Spectator: A Qaurterly Journal of the Instituto Affari Internazionali, no. 2 (June 1997): 97. 26. Gerard J. Libaridian, Modern Armenia: People, Nation, State (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 2004), pp. 267–268. 27. Baskin Oran, “The Turkish Approach to Transcaucasia and Central Asia,” in Contrasts and Solutions in the Caucasus, ed. Ole Høiris and Sefa Martin Yürükel (Oxford: Aarhus University Press, 1998), p. 457. Cited

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in Astourian, From Ter-Petrosian to Kocharian: Leadership Change in Armenia), p. 29. 28. In November 1991, the newly elected Demirel wrote to the Azeri prime minister Hasan Hasanov urging restraint after an Azeri helicopter was shot down over Nagorno-Karabakh. “Mamedov Contacts Turkey’s Demirel on Conflict,” (FBIS-SOV-03-17-1992, March 17, 1992). 29. Former foreign minister of Armenia Raffi Hovanissian provides the following argumentation in favor of annulment of the treaties: There are several legal bases on which Armenia can rely in demonstrating the invalidity of the Treaties of Moscow and Kars. First, Article 62 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties contemplates revolutionary new situations such as the dramatic alterations wrought by the dissolution of the Soviet Union when it provides that a fundamental change of the circumstances prevailing when a treaty was concluded is a ground for its termination or suspension, even if it is otherwise valid. Applicable treaty law is clear that the sovereignty restored to the countries formerly within the Soviet Union and the behavior of Turkey toward Armenia in particular constitute “fundamental changes in circumstances” which permit the termination of the treaties. This binding precept of international law, known as rebus sic stantibus, is supported by the principle that, under the Vienna Convention on Succession of States and other applicable sources of law, successor states enjoy the freedom to decide for themselves which of their “inherited” treaties should be continued and confirmed. Second, Article 51 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, providing that a treaty is invalid when agreement has been reached by coercion, certainly contemplates the conditions of compulsion and threats of force which were employed against Soviet Armenia at the time of the signing of the treaties, and therefore constitutes a legal foundation to void that coercion. Because Armenia, as a Soviet state, was acting in fact and in essence without sovereign status, and its plenipotentiary was excluded from the substantive portions of the negotiations leading to the conclusion of the treaties, a sound argument can issue that the Armenian S.S.R. did not enter into the treaty arrangement—even if it had the capacity to do so—in an environment free of force and coercion, and its representative did not affix his signature at Kars of his own volition. Raffi Hovannisian, Addressing Turkey and Its Blockade of Armenia: The Double-Edged Sword of the Treaties of Kars and Moscow (The National Citizens’ Initiative, 1994 [cited January 22, 2006]); available from http:// www.nci.am/analyses/kars/.

30. Visiting Istanbul for the proposed Black Sea Economic Cooperation organization (BSEC) in March 1992, Armenian deputy foreign minister Armand Navassardian assured the Turkish government that Armenia “coveted no Turkish land.” “Turkish, Iranian Influence on Cis Viewed,” (FBIS-SOV-1992-0303, March 3, 1992).

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31. “Retired Ambassador Aktan Interviewed on Turkey-Armenia Relations, Claims on Genocide,” (FBIS-SOV-2000-1105, November 4, 2000). 32. Croissant, The Armenia-Azerbaijan Conflict: Causes and Implications, p. 81. 33. “Mamedov Contacts Turkey’s Demirel on Conflict.” 34. “Xinhua ‘Roundup’ on Turkey, Armenia Conflict,” (FBIS-CHI-1992-0522, May 22, 1992). 35. Ibid. 36. Croissant, The Armenia-Azerbaijan Conflict: Causes and Implications, p. 295; Edmond Y. Azadian, History on the Move: Views, Interviews and Essays on Armenian Issues (Wayne State University Press, MI: 1999), p. 69. 37. Freddy De Pauw, “Turkey’s Policies in Transcaucasia,” in Contested Borders in the Caucasus, ed. Bruno Coppieters (Brussels; Concord, MA: VUBPRESS, 1996), p. 182. 38. “Armenia: Turkey Said to Provide Weapons to Nakhichevan,” (FBISSOV-1992-0910, September 10, 1992). 39. Vigen Hakobyan and Armenika Kiviryan, Oskanian-Gul Meeting: Will the Long-Lasting Timeout Be Interrupted? (October 9, 2003 [cited November 12, 2006]); available from http://www.tabdc.org/news.php?id=159. 40. Ibid. 41. Libaridian, Modern Armenia: People, Nation, State, p. 269. 42. Hakobyan and Kiviryan, Oskanian-Gul Meeting: Will the Long-Lasting Timeout Be Interrupted?. 43. Ibid. 44. Tony Halpin, “The Face of Discord,” Armenian International Magazine (November 1993). 45. Ibid. 46. Ibid. 47. Hakobyan and Kiviryan, Oskanian-Gul Meeting: Will the Long-Lasting Timeout Be Interrupted?. 48. Libaridian, Modern Armenia: People, Nation, State, p. 269. 49. Suha Bolukbasi, “Ankara’s Baku-Centered Transcaucasia Policy: Has It Failed?,” Middle East Journal 51, no. 1 (Winter 1996): 85. 50. Ioannis Stribis, “The Evolving Security Concern in the Black Sea Economic Cooperation,” in Strategic Developments in Eurasia after 11 September, ed. Shireen Hunter (Portland, Or.: Frank Cass, 2004), p. 132. 51. Hayk Demoyan, “Nekotoriye Aspekti Armyano-Turetskix Otnosheniy V Kontekste Regional Nykh Protsessov” Some Aspects of Armenian-Turkish Relations in the Context of the Regional Development], in Orientiry Vneshneæi Politiki Armenii: Sbornik Analiticheskikh Stateæi, ed. Gayane Novikova (Yerevan: “Antares,” 2002), p. 51. 52. “Mi Mard Ev Mi Petutsyun. Hh Nakhagahy Pataskhanume ‘Aim’ Amsagri Hartserin” [One Man, One State. Ra President’s Answers to the Aim Questions], in Araspeli Ev Irakani Sahmanagtsin. Levon Ter-Petrosyan, Qaghakatsin Ev Qaghakagety [Between the Myth and the Reality. Levon

192

53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70.

71. 72. 73. 74.

Notes

Ter-Petrosyan: A Citizen, a Politician], ed. Vardges Davtyan (Yerevan: Nairi, 1996), p. 133. Libaridian, Modern Armenia: People, Nation, State, p. 226. Ibid., p. 271. “Reportage on Fighting in Nagorno-Karabakh, Border Areas,” (FBISSOV-1993-091, September 1, 1993). “Army Builds up Defenses against Armenian Forces,” (FBIS-1993-0902, September 2, 1993). “Turkey Moves Troops to Border,” Associated Press, September 3, 1993; “ Iran: More on Velayati’s Contacts with Aliyev, Turkey’s Cetin,” (FBISNES-1993-0903, September 3, 1993). Pauw, “Turkey’s Policies in Transcaucasia,” p. 183. “Turkish Paper Claims ‘Terrorist’ Bases in Armenia,” (FBISWEU-1993-1119, November 19, 1993). Ibid. “Faction Claims Turkey Planning to Shell Armenia,” (FBISSOV-1993-1208, December 8, 1993). Leonidas Themistocles Chrysanthopoulos, Caucasus Chronicles: NationBuilding and Diplomacy in Armenia, 1993–1994 (Princeton, NJ: Gomidas Institute Books, 2002), pp. 77–78. “Azerbaijani Ambassador Interviewed on Ties, Armenia,” (FBIS-WEU1993-0310, March 10, 1993). “Foreign Minister Discusses Relations with Turkey,” (FBISSOV-1993-0902, September 2, 1993). “Ter-Petrosyan Meets Turkish Ambassador in Moscow,” (FBISSOV-1993-1020, October 20, 1993). Ter-Gabrielian and Nedolian, “Armenia: Crossroads or Fault Line of Civilizations?,” p. 99. “President’s Decree Suspending ARF Activity Reported,” (FBISSOV-1994-1230, December 30, 1994). “Suspension of ARF Activity Called ‘Illegal,’” (FBIS-SOV-1994-1230, December 30, 1994); “ Nsda Criticizes Action against ARF,” (FBISSOV-1994-1230, December 30, 1994). “Turkes Discusses Meetings with Armenian President,” (FBISWEU-1995-0207, February 7, 1995). “Libaridian Says That Yerevan Can Set Aside the Fact of Genocide for the Quest of Improved Relations with Turkey: Ankara-Yerevan Bargaining Offers New Details on Meeting between Turkesh & Der Bedrosian,” Armenian Reporter International, February 18, 1995. Ibid. “Liparityan Views Relations with Ankara,” (FBIS-SOV-1995-0309, March 9, 1995). Ibid. “Commentary Views Turkish-Armenian Relations,” (FBIS-SOV-1995-0321, March 21, 1995).

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75. J. L. Maresca, “ A Peace Pipeline to End the Nagorno-Karabakh Conflict,” Caspian Crossroads 1 (Winter 1995). Cited in Emmanuel Karagiannis, Energy and Security in the Caucasus (London; New York: RoutledgeCurzon, 2002), p. 42. 76. Armenian Expert Comments on Current Armenian-US Relations (EurasiaNet, July 7, 2000 [cited January 9, 2005]); available from http://www. eurasianet.org/resource/armenia/hypermail/200007/0006.html. 77. “Bill on Aid to Armenia Undermines U.S. Ties,” (FBIS-WEU-1995-0217, February 17, 1995). 78. “Ciller Takes Initiative on Armenian Relations,” (FBIS-WEU-1995-0217, February 17, 1995). 79. “Turks Place Conditions for Improvement of Relations with Armenia,” Armenian Reporter International, March 4, 1995. 80. “Liparityan Reports on Turkey’s Armenian ‘Position,’” (FBISSOV-1995-0301, March 1, 1995). 81. Bolukbasi, “Ankara’s Baku-Centered Transcaucasia Policy: Has It Failed?,” p. 85. 82. “Air Corridor to Armenia to Reopen in Two Weeks,” (FBISWEU-1995-0427, April 27, 1995). 83. Thomas W. Lippman, “Clinton, Aides Voice Support for Turkish Leader Ciller Assures U. S. That Military Operation against Kurds in Iraq Will Be Limited,” Washington Post, April 20, 1995. 84. Ibid. 85. “Mounting Pressure Pushes Turkish Prime Minister to Announce Opening of Air Corridor to Armenia,” Armenian Reporter International, April 29, 1995; “Humanitarian Aid Corridor Act,” House of Representatives (1996). 86. “Turkey Rejects Agreement with Armenia until Forces Leave Azerbaijan,” Deutsche Press-Agentur, June 29, 1995. 87. Mourad Mouradian, “Reactions to Rumors About Armenian and Turkish Trade,” Armenian Reporter International, March 11, 1995, p. 3. 88. Levon Marashlian, “Diaspora Should Influence Armenia’s Course,” Armenian Reporter International, October 21, 1995, p. 3. 89. “Human Rights Watch/Helsinki Armenia Report,” (Human Rights Watch, 1996). 90. “Armenians Vote for Ruling Bloc—Two-Thirds Back New Constitution,” Washington Times, July 7, 1995. 91. Levon Marashlian, “Der Bedrosian Diasporans Who Disparage Armenians— Part 2,” Armenian Reporter International, December 9, 1995. 92. “Turkey: Demirel Moves to Normalize Relations with Armenia,” (FBISWEU-1996-0417, April 17, 1996). 93. Ibid. 94. “Turkey: Yilmaz on Armenia, Coalition, Southeast, Kurds,” (FBISWEU-1996-0411, April 11, 1996). 95. “Armenia: Turkish President’s Proposal for Karabakh Settlement Cited,” (FBIS-SOV-1996-0422, April 22, 1996).

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96. “Turkey: Gonensay on Armenian Relations, Israeli Agreement,” (FBISWEU-1996-0522, May 22, 1996). 97. “News Agency Director Discusses Furor over Shooting Story,” (FBIS1996-0712, July 12, 1996). 98. Ibid. 99. Paul B. Henze, Turkey and Armenia: Past Problems and Future Prospects (Santa Monica, CA: Rand Corporation, 1996), pp. 10–12. 100. “Armenia: Presidential Adviser Fears Erbakan to Hamper Karabakh Talks,” (FBIS-SOV-1996-0730, July 30, 1996). 101. In the fall of 1995, the governors of the province of Kars and the Armenian Gyumri met at the border. The Kars governor was quoted in his interview to the Turkish Milliyet “We are not interested in political problems. The economic war is losing its urgency. If the border were opened in Kars District, billions would flow in.” “Turkey: Kars Governor Denies Border Incident with Armenia,” (FBIS-WEU-1996-0711, July 11, 1996). During the summer of 1996, the president’s brother Telman Ter-Petrosyan, a prominent businessman visited Istanbul and met with the son of Alpaslan Turkes, Tugrul. The two discussed various avenues for economic cooperation. “Armenia: Telman Ter-Petrosyan, Turkes’ Son on Economic Cooperation,” (FBIS-SOV-1996-0801, August 1, 1996). 102. About Tabdc (Turkish-Armenian Business Development Council, [cited January 31, 2006]); available from http://www.tabdc.org/about.php. 103. Ibid. 104. “Azerbaijan: Aliyev Urges Turkey to Cut Contacts with Armenia,” (FBIS-SOV-97-128, May 9, 1997). 105. “Armenia: Armenian Opposition Leader Demands President’s Resignation,” (FBIS-SOV-98-029, February 4, 1998); “Armenia: Armenian Parliament Accepts Ter-Petrosyan Resignation,” (FBISSOV-98-035, February 7, 1998). 106. “Otstavka Sem’ Let Spustya” [The resignation sever years later], Golos Armenii, February 2005. 107. Barseghyan, “Rethinking Nationhood: Post-Independence Discourse on National Identity in Armenia,” pp. 410–411. 108. “Levon Ter-Petrosyan During Opening Session of Three-Day Genocide Problems Conference in Yerevan, April 21,” Armenian Reporter International, April 29, 1995. 109. Astourian, From Ter-Petrosian to Kocharian: Leadership Change in Armenia, p. 27. 110. “Otstavka Sem’ Let Spustya” [The resignation sever years later]. 111. Suny, “Provisional Stabilities: The Politics of Identities in Post-Soviet Eurasia,” p. 159. 112. “Turkey Says Contacts with Armenia Possible after Karabakh,” (FBISSOV-97-251, September 11, 1997). 113. Ara Sarafian, “The New Thinking Revisited. Gerard Libaridian Speaks at Princeton Univeristy,” Armenian Forum 1, no. 2 (1998).

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114. Cornell, Small Nations and Great Powers: A Study of Ethnopolitical Conflict in the Caucasus, p. 306. 115. “Armenia: Turkish Daily Says Kocharyan Establishing Links with Ankara,” (FBIS-SOV-98-092, April 2, 1998). 116. “Irredentism Enters Armenia’s Foreign Policy,” (Monitor, Jamestown Foundation, April 22, 1998). 117. “Armenia: Armenian Minister on Karabakh, Regional Issues,” (FBISSOV-98-146, May 27, 1998). 118. “Armenia: Armenia Opposes Holding OSCE Summit in Istanbul,” (FBIS-SOV-98-141, May 24, 1998). 119. “Armenia: Armenian, Turkish Presidents Discuss Relations,” (FBISSOV-98-160, June 10, 1998). 120. “Armenia: President Kocharyan—Turkey Could Be Armenian Ally,” (FBIS-SOV-98-163, June 17, 1998). 121. “Armenia: Presidential Aide—Armenia-Russia Ties to Be Intensified,” (FBIS-SOV-98-182, July 2, 1998). 122. “Armenia to Establish Equal Relations with East, West,” (FBISSOV-2000-0405, April 6, 2000). 123. “Armenia: Foreign Minister on Conflict with Azerbaijan,” (FBISSOV-98-192, July 15, 1998). 124. Ruben Safrastyan, “Znachenie Izucheniya Armyano-Turetskikh Otnosheniy Dlya Sovremennoy Teorii Mejdunarodnix Otnosheniy: Nekotoriye Predvaritelniye Zamechaniya” [The significance of studying Armenian-Turkish relations for the contemporary theory of international relations: Certain preliminary comments], in Hnaravor Che 21-Rd Darum Patneshner Steghtsel Harevanneri Mijev . . . : Hayastany Ev Turkyan Taratsashrjanayin Holovuytnerum; 2001–2003 Tvakanneri Hodvatsner U Hartsazruytsner. [It is impossible to set up barriers between neighbors in the twenty-first century. Armenia and Turkey in regional developments. Articles and interviews of 2001–2003], ed. Ruben Safrastyan (Yerevan: Zangak 97, 2003), p. 39. 125. Brannen, “Diasporic Armenian Nationalist Invocations of Metaphorical Space, Frozen Time, and the 1915 Genocide.” 126. Speech by Vartan Oskanyan at the International Conference on Prospects for Regional and Transregional Cooperation and the Resolution of Conflicts (September 28, 2000 [cited February 2, 2006]); available from http:// www.armeniaforeignministry.com/. 127. While Turkey viewed Sevres Treaty as a symbol of country’s political humiliation leading to what some refer to as the “Serves Syndrome” in Turkish political culture, Armenian primeminister publicly referred to it as the “finest victory of Armenian diplomacy.” 128. Barseghyan, “Rethinking Nationhood: Post-Independence Discourse on National Identity in Armenia,” p. 408. 129. “Turkish Foreign Ministry: Efforts to Continue to Stop Adoption of Armenian Bill,” (FBIS-SOV-2000-0927, September 28, 2000).

196

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130. Oganesian and Petrosian, Armeniia, Evropa, Aziia: Koridory I Perekrestki [Armenia, Europe and Asia: Corridors and crossroads], p. 139. 131. “Turkish Cabinet to Reassess ‘Northern Watch’ If US House Approves Armenian Bill,” (FBIS-WEU-2000-1004, October 6, 2000). 132. “Turkey: Hurriyet Proposes Focusing on Measures against Armenia,” (FBIS-SOV-2000-1004, October 6, 2000). 133. “Turkey’s Yilmaz Advises Armenia to Choose Friendship over Family,” (FBIS-SOV-2000-1101, November 3, 2000). 134. Attending an international conference on regional issues held in Yerevan, former Turkish foreign minister Ilter Turkmen protested against the speech made by Raffi Hovannisian on the genocide. The diplomat explained than Ankara equates the discussion of the genocide by the Armenian foreign policy establishment to putting forward preconditions. “Armenian International Conference Discusses ‘Genocide’ Issue,” (FBIS-SOV-2000-1002, October 3, 2000). 135. “Armenian President Says Turkey Should Open up Archives, Say Sorry for Genocide.” 136. “Armenia Said Aiming at Breaking Turkish-U.S. Ties,” (FBISSOV-2001-0703, July 6, 2001). 137. “Turkish Columnist Says Turkey Should Improve Relations with Armenia,” (FBIS-SOV-2001-0208, February 13, 2001). 138. “Turkish-Armenian Reconciliation Commission Set Up,” (FBISSOV-2001-0711, July 11, 2001). 139. “Commentary Says Improved Ties with Yerevan Would Help Turkey’s EU Bid,” (FBIS-SOV-2002-1214, December 16, 2002). 140. Fiona Hill, “Seismic Shifts in Eurasia; the Changing Relationship between Turkey and Russia and Its Implications for the South Caucasus,” Journal of Southeast European and Black Sea Studies 3 (2003): 62. 141. Khatchik Derghoukassian and Richard Giragosian, The Dangers of Privatizing Armenian Foreign Policy (September 8, 2001 [cited November 17, 2003]); available from www.asbarez.com/TARC/Giragosian.html. 142. “Armenia: US Seeking to Restore Armenian-Turkish Reconciliation Commission,” (FBIS-SOV-2002-0430, May 1, 2002). 143. “Caucasus Is No Longer the Source of Discord for Russia and Turkey. Interview with Rouben Safrastyan” (April 18, 2005 [cited June 20, 2005]); available from http://www.globalpolitician.com/articledes. asp?ID=626&cid=4&sid=35. 144. Hill, “Seismic Shifts in Eurasia; the Changing Relationship between Turkey and Russia and Its Implications for the South Caucasus.” 145. “Turkish Columnist Proposes Gestures to Normalize Ties with Armenia,” (FBIS-SOV-2001-1027, October 29, 2001). 146. “FM Cem Says Turkish-Armenian Relations Can Be Developed after Karabakh Solution,” (FBIS-SOV-2002-0626, June 27, 2002). 147. “US Backs Armenians’ Move to Normalize Ties with Turkey,” ( FBISSOV-2002-0910, September 11, 2002).

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148. “Armenia: Optimism Expressed Following Azerbaijan-Armenia-Turkey Meeting,” (FBIS-SOV-2002-0521, May 22, 2002). 149. “Turkish Writer Highlights Officials’ Views on Improvement of Ties with Armenia,” (FBIS-SOV-2002-0529, May 31, 2002). 150. “Armenia-Turkey: Economic Necessity Pushing Yerevan, Ankara Closer,” Eurasia Insight (July 26, 2003 [cited August 5, 2003]); available from http://www.eurasianet.org/departments/insight/articles/eav072603. shtml. 151. Gareth Winrow, “Pivotal State or Energy Supplicant? Domestic Structure, External Actors, and Turkish Policy in the Caucasus,” Middle East Journal, Winter (2003). 152. “Caucasus Is No Longer the Source of Discord for Russia and Turkey. Interview with Rouben Safrastyan.” 153. Richard Giragosian, “Turkish-US Relations: The Role of the Armenian Issue,” Turkish Policy Quarterly 4, no. 1 (Spring 2005). 154. “‘New Approach’ Reported in Relations between Turkey, Armenia,” (FBIS-SOV-2003-0607, June 9, 2003). 155. “Turkey Seen Holding Secret Talks with Yerevan, Armenian Diaspora,” (FBIS-SOV-2003-0613, June 16, 2003). 156. “Armenian Parties Denounce Attempts to Establish Ties with Turkey,” (FBIS-SOV-2003-0721, July 22, 2003). 157. “Deputy Says Armenian-Turkish Relations Depend on Neutrality in Karabakh Issue,” (FBIS-SOV-2004-0129, February 1, 2004). 158. “Official Says Swiss Recognition of Armenian Genocide May Damage Ties with Turkey,” (FBIS-SOV-2003-1222, December 23, 2003). 159. Zulfugar Agayev, “Azerbaijan: Could Turkey Spoil Nagorno-Karabakh Peace?,” Transitions On-Line, April 13, 2004 (cited January 6, 2005); available from http://www.tol.cz/look/TOLrus/article.tpl?IdLanguage=1 &IdPublication=4&NrIssue=59&NrSection=1&NrArticle=11908. 160. Ibid. 161. “Azerbaijan: Daily Speculates on Campaign against Opening TurkishArmenian Border,” (FBIS-SOV-2004-0407, April 8, 2004). 162. Agayev, “Azerbaijan: Could Turkey Spoil Nagorno-Karabakh Peace?.” 163. “Revisiting Armenian-Turkish Relations Is a Necessity,” Azg Daily, August 8, 2004. 164. “Columnist Says Turkish Foreign Ministry Opposes Opening Border Gate with Armenia,” (FBIS-SOV-2004-1011, October 13, 2004). 165. “Column Views Changes in Turkey’s National Security Policy Document,” (FBIS-SOV-2004-1227, December 30, 2004). 166. “Relations with Turkey May Hinder Armenia-NATO Cooperation,” (FBIS-SOV-2004-0524, May 25, 2004). 167. “Gul: Turkey Holding Talks with Armenia, Azerbaijan to Solve Karabakh Issue,” (FBIS-SOV-2004-0419, April 20, 2004). 168. “Foreign Minister: Armenia Unwilling to Trade Karabakh for Share in Regional Projects,” (FBIS-SOV-2004-0922, September 23, 2004).

198

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169. “Armenia Provodit Dinamichnuyu Vneshnuyu Politiku I U Nee Est Opredelennie Uspekhi V Etoy Sphere” [Armenia is conducting a dynamic foreign policy and it has achieved certain success in that sphere], Azg Daily, July 27, 2004. 170. “Armenian Deputies Urge Turkey to Open Borders, Set up Diplomatic Ties,” (FBIS-SOV-2004-1201, December 2, 2004). 171. Giragosian, “Turkish-Us Relations: The Role of the Armenian Issue.” 172. Gunes Murat Tezcur, “The Armenian Shadow over Turkey’s Democratisation,” Open Democracy.Net, October 13, 2005 (cited December 5, 2005); available from http://www.opendemocracy.net/ democracy-turkey/armenia_2920.jsp. 173. Ayla Gol, “The Turkish Nation and ‘Othering’ Armenians,” Nations and Nationalism 11, no. 1 (2005), p. 137. 174. Taner Akçam, “The Genocide of the Armenians and the Silence of the Turks,” in Dialogue across an International Divide: Essays Towards a Turkish-Armenian Dialogue, ed. Taner Akçam (Cambridge, MA; Toronto: Zoryan Institute, 2001). For a further discussion, see Taner Akcam, From Empire to Republic: Turkish Nationalism and the Armenian Genocide (London; New York: Zed Books, 2004). 175. Buzan, Waever, and Wilde, Security: A New Framework for Analysis. 176. Ibid., p. 25. 177. “Closing Address by the Armenian Foreign Minister,” The International Conference on the 90th Anniversary of the Armenian Genocide, April 21, 2005 (cited September 26, 2005); available from http://www.armeniaforeignministry.com/. 178. President Kocharyan’s speech on the Armenian state TV (Translated and quoted by Harout Sassounian, “What Did Kocharyan Actually Say About Demanding Territories from Turkey?,” April 11, 2005 [cited February 10, 2006]); available from www.Armeniapedia.org. 179. Barseghyan, “Rethinking Nationhood: Post-Independence Discourse on National Identity in Armenia,” pp. 413–415. 180. “Acnis Roundtable on Public Opinion and the Armenian Genocide,” Armenian Center for National and International Studies, April 25, 2005 (cited December 5, 2005); available from http://www.acnis.am/pr/ genocide.htm. 181. Ibid., “Konferentsiya V Erevane” [A conference in Yerevan], Golos Armenii, May 2004. 182. Stepan Poghosian, Tseghaspanutyan Khindiry. Petakan Kaghakakanutyun Ev Azgayin Inkalumner [The politics of genocide: State policy and national perceptions] (ACNIS, 2001); available from www.acnis.am/ publications/poghosyan.pdf. 183. Garnik S. Asatrian, “Armenia and Security Issues in the South Caucasus,” Quarterly Journal, no. 3 (September 2002):p. 24. 184. “Trade, Transport and Telecommunications in the South Caucasus: Current Obstacles to Regional Cooperation,” (World Bank, 2001).

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185. “Study of the Economic Impact on the Armenian Economy from Re-Opening of the Turkish-Armenian Borders,” Armenian-European Policy and Legal Advice Center, 2005. http://www.aeplac.am/pdf/2005/ ARM_TURK_BORD/Arm_Turk_Bord.asp. 186. Haroutiun Khachatrian, “No Big Gains to Armenia If Turkey Lifts Blockade,” Eurasia Insight, August 9, 2005. 187. Gayaneh Kyureghian and Vahe Heboyan, “Opening Armenia-Turkey Border: Measuring the Economic Impact” (Paper presented at the International Food and Agribusiness Management Association 14th Annual Food and Agribusiness Forum and Symposium, Montreux, Switzerland, June 12–15, 2004). 188. Richard Beilock, “Helping Armenia without Helping the Blockade,” Armenian Journal of Public Policy 1 (September 2003): 20. 189. “Kars-Gyumri Railway in the Focus of Attention.” Interview with Gagik Minasyan, chair of the Standing Committee on Financial-Credit, Budgetary and Economic Affairs of the National Assembly. (www.newneighbors.am, November 25, 2005 [cited January 28, 2006]). 190. Richard Giragosian, “Toward a New Concept of Armenian National Security.” (Paper presented at the Third Annual AIPRG International Conference, The World Bank, Washington D.C., January 15–16, 2005).

Chapter 3 1. Speech by Vartan Oskanian Minister of Foreign Affairs Republic of Armenia at the Yale Conference on the Caucasus and Central Asia (Foreign Ministry of the Republic of Armenia, September 19, 2002 [cited April 12, 2003]); available from http://www.armeniaforeignministry.com/. 2. Asatrian, “Armenia and Security Issues in the South Caucasus,” p. 24. 3. Nina Garsoian, “Armeno-Iranian Relations in Pre-Islamic Period,” in Encyclopaedia Iranica, October 20, 2004 [cited December 10, 2004]); available from http://www.encyclopaediairanica.com/articles/ot_grp5/ ot_armeno_iran_rel_20041020.html. 4. Eliz Sanasarian, Religious Minorities in Iran, Cambridge Middle East Studies (Cambridge, UK; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000), p. 35. 5. “Iran Only Country Protecting Armenian Historical Monuments, Report Says,” (FBIS-SOV-2001-1023, October 24, 2001). Officials in Tehran expressed its indignation numerous times at the destruction of Armenian cemetery monuments in Nakhichevan. 6. David Petrosian, “Iran, Hayastan: Erek, Aysor, Vaghy” [Iran, Armenia: Yesterday, today, and tomorrow], Iran-Name. Armenian Journal of Oriental Studies, no. 33 (1999): 76. 7. Brenda Shaffer, “It’s Not about Ancient Hatreds, It’s about Current Policies: Islam and Stability in the Caucasus,” Caucasian Regional Studies 5, no. 1–2 (2000). 8. Abrahamian, Armenian Identity in a Changing World, p. 250.

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9. Petrosian, “Iran, Hayastan: Erek, Aysor, Vaghy” [Iran, Armenia: Yesterday, today, and tomorrow], p. 76. 10. Zory Balayan, “The Threat of Pan-Turanism,” in Armenia at the Crossroads: Democracy and Nationhood in the Post-Soviet Era; Essays, Interviews, and Speeches by the Leaders of the National Democratic Movement in Armenia, ed. Gerard J. Libaridian (Watertown, MA: Blue Crane Books, 1991). 11. Armenia’s FM stated, “Rather than portraying each other as accessories of the South or the North, as allies of the East or West . . . let us instead define and mold our policies in the spirit of multidimensional partnerships, in the direction of complementarity.” In “Armenia to Establish Equal Relations with East, West.” 12. Oganesian and Petrosian, Armeniia, Evropa, Aziia: Koridory I Perekrestki [Armenia, Europe and Asia: Corridors and crossroads],p. 293. 13. Igor Muradyan and Sergey Manukian, Tretiy Put’ Evraziyskix Natsiy I IranoShiitskaya Revolyutsiya [The “third way” of Eurasian nations and Iran’s Shia revolution] (Yerevan: Fond Visokikh Tekhnologiy, 1997), p. 228. 14. “Ankakh Hayastani Kamurj-E Arevelki Ev Arevmutki Mijev” [Independent Armenia serves as a link between East and West]. Interview with Levon Ter-Petrosyan, Hayastani Hanrapetutyun, February 6, 1992. 15. “Azgayin Hamazhoghovits” [In the parliament], Hayastani Hanrapetutyun, February 11, 1992. In February of 1992, during the session of Armenia’s Supreme Council, Ter-Petrosyan voiced dissatisfaction with the level of Armenia’s relations with the Middle Eastern countries. 16. “ACNIS Examines Armenian-Iranian Relations” (October 20, 2005 [cited August 5, 2006]); available from http://www.acnis.am/pr/iran.htm. 17. Tony Halpin and Vartan Oskanian, “A Place on the Map,” Armenian International Magazine 3, no. 4 (1992)“ 13. 18. Tony Halpin, “Interview: The Race for Alternatives; A Conversation with Energy Minister Sebouh Tashjian,” Armenian International Magazine 4, no. 1 (1993). 19. Felix Corley, “How Others See the Karabagh Conflict: Closer Iran-Armenia Relations Sought by Armenians,” Armenian Reporter International, September 11, 1993. 20. James M. Dorsey, “The Growing Entente between Armenia & Iran,” Armenian Reporter International, December 12, 1992. 21. “Newly Appointed Foreign Minister Takes Office,” Armenian Reporter International, March 6, 1993. 22. Tony Halpin, “Interview: Making Peace,” Armenian International Magazine 3, no. 6 (1992). 23. Ray Takeyh, Hidden Iran: Paradox and Power in the Islamic Republic, 1st ed. (New York: Times Books, 2006), p. 63. 24. Shireen Hunter, “Iran’s Pragmatic Regional Policy,” Journal of International Affairs 56, no. 2 (Spring 2003). 25. Cornell, Small Nations and Great Powers: A Study of Ethnopolitical Conflict in the Caucasus; Hunter, “Iran’s Pragmatic Regional Policy.”

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26. Speech by Mehdi Safari, Islamic Republic’s special representative for the Caspian region and the head of the department of the CIS affairs of the Iranian Foreign Ministry. In Ghulam Riza Hashimi, ed., Amniyat Dar Qafqaz-I Junubi [Security in the Southern Caucasus] (Tehran: Vozarat-e Omur-e Kharejeh, 2005). 27. Takeyh, Hidden Iran: Paradox and Power in the Islamic Republic, p. 78. 28. Edmund Herzig, Iran and the Former Soviet South (London: Royal Institute of International Affairs, 1995), p. 30. 29. Cameron S. Brown, “Wanting to Have Their Cake and Their Neighbor’s Too: Azerbaijani Attitudes Towards Karabakh and Iranian Azerbaijan,” Middle East Journal 58, no. 4 (Autumn 2004). 30. Graham Fuller, “Azerbaijan: Soon to Be a Household Word Nationalism: Iran and Turkey May Be Drawn in as Ethnic Strife Takes on New Forms in the Southern Soviet Union,” Los Angeles Times, January 9, 1990. 31. Speech by Iran’s Foreign Minister at the 11th International Conference “Security in the Southern Caucasus.” In Hashimi, ed., Amniyat Dar Qafqaz-I Junubi [Security in the Southern Caucasus], p. 8. 32. Quoted in Abdollah Ramezanzadeh, “Iran’s Role as Mediator in the Nagorno-Karabakh Crisis,” in Contested Borders in the Caucasus, edited by Bruno Coppieters (Brussels: VUB Press, 1996), p. 168. 33. Quoted in “Irany Mtahogvats-E Turk-Adyrbejanakan Dashinkov” [Iran is concerned with Turkish-Azerbaijani alliance], Hayastani Hanrapetutyun, January 15, 1992. 34. Nagorno-Karabakh Conflict: A Chronology of Key Events (The Office of Nagorno-Karabakh Republic, [cited August 20, 2006]); available from http://www.nkrusa.org/nk_conflict/chronology.shtml. 35. Herzig, Iran and the Former Soviet South, pp. 241–242. 36. Tony Halpin and Vartan Oskanian, “Analysis: The Fall of Shushi; An Accident of Timing,” Armenian International Magazine 3, no. 5 (1992). 37. Ibid. 38. Ramezanzadeh, “Iran’s Role as Mediator in the Nagorno-Karabakh Crisis,” p. 171. 39. Resalat, July 23, 1993. Quoted in Ibid., p. 172. 40. “Armenia Captures Strategic Sites in Battle over Caucasus Enclaves,” New York Times, April 12, 1993. 41. Resalat April 14, 1993. Quoted in Ramezanzadeh, “Iran’s Role as Mediator in the Nagorno-Karabakh Crisis.” 42. Ibid., p. 176. 43. “Azeri-Armenian Clashes Force Thousands into Iran,” Christian Science Monitor (1993). 44. Ramezanzadeh, “Iran’s Role as Mediator in the Nagorno-Karabakh Crisis.” 45. Ibid., p. 173. 46. U. R. Chugunova, “Pravovoy Status Kaspiya: Resurs Ili Bar’yer V Mejregionalnom Sotrudnichestve I Rossiysko-Iranskix Vzaimootnosheniyax”

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47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62.

63. 64. 65. 66. 67.

Notes

[The legal status of the Caspian Sea: A resource or a barier to the regional cooperation between Russia and Iran], in Iranskiy Mir I Yug Rossii: Proshloe I Sovremennie Perspektivi [The Iranian world and Russia’s south: The past and present perspectives], ed. Chernous V. V. (Rostov na Donu: Izd-vo SKNëTìS VSh, 2004). Andrea W. Lorenz, “Drop in Oil Prices Spurs Iran to Diversify Alternative Trade,” Washington Report on Middle East Affairs 12, no. 7 (1994). Martha Brill Olcott, “International Gas Trade in Central Asia: Turkmenistan, Iran, Russia and Afghanistan,” (Stanford University; James A. Baker Institute, May 2004). “Armenia: Iranian Ambassador Calls Armenia-Iran Relations ‘Ideal,’” (FBIS-SOV-96-027, February 10, 1996). Cornell, Small Nations and Great Powers: A Study of Ethnopolitical Conflict in the Caucasus, p. 376. Halpin and Oskanian, “A Place on the Map,” p. 13. Ibid. “Armenia: Armenia’s Oskanyan Clarifies Israel-Iran Mediation Remarks,” (FBIS-SOV-98-310, November 9, 1998). “Armenia: Iranian Diplomat: ‘Bright Future’ for Iran-Armenia Ties,” (FBIS-SOV-98-323, November 23, 1998). Abrahamian, Armenian Identity in a Changing World, p. 348. “Armenia: Armenia Keen to Develop Links with Iran, United States,” (FBIS-SOV-98-238, August 28, 1998). From a personal interview with an Armenian foreign ministry official. October 2009. “Russia Not to Form Military Pact with Iran to Counter NATO,” (FBISUMA-98-308, November 5, 1998). Cornell, Small Nations and Great Powers: A Study of Ethnopolitical Conflict in the Caucasus, p. 401. “Armenia: Developing Armenian-Greek Military Partnership Seen,” (FBIS-UMA-97-203, July 23, 1997). “Iran: Greece May Join Anti-Nato Pact,” (FBIS-SOV-1999-0810, August 11, 1999). “Armenia, Greece and Iran Sign Memorandum of Cooperation,” Armenian Reporter International, January 3, 1998; Jeanne Whalen, “Armenia Rejects Defence Alliance,” Financial Times [London Edition], July 12, 1999. “Russia: Iran Accuses Us Aide of Interfering in Caucasus,” (FBISSOV-2000-0306, March 7, 2000). Thomas W. Lippman, “Clinton Meets with Turkmen President,” Washington Post, April 24, 1998. “Armenian Pipeline Dream,” Africa Analysis, April 2, 2004. “Pipeline Construction,” BBC Monitoring, August 23, 2001. “Armenia Is Important to Ukraine as a Transit Country for Energy,” Azg, December 14, 2000.

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68. “Turkmen Gas to Be Piped to Armenia Via Iran,” BBC Monitoring, August 21, 2001. 69. “Consortium to Finance Iran-Armenia Oil Pipeline,” Interfax, July 7, 1999; “Ukraine Eyes Imports from Iran-Armenia Pipeline,” Pipeline & Gas Journal 227, no. 12 (December 2000). 70. Anonymous interview, 2007. 71. De Waal, Black Garden: Armenia and Azerbaijan through Peace and War, p. 242. 72. Anonymous interview, 2007. 73. Ibid. 74. “Azeri Paper Questions Motives behind Iran’s Wish to Mediate in Karabakh,” (June 15, 2001). 75. “Azerbaijan: Political Expert Urges Caution about Iran’s Karabakh Mediation Role,” (FBIS-SOV-2002-0418, April 19, 2002). 76. Igor Muradian, “Politika Irana V Otnoshenii Azerbaijana I Armenii V Svyazi S Protsesom Uregulirovaniya Karabakhskoy Problemi” [Iranian policy towards Azerbaijan and Armenia in regards to the process of the Nagorno-Karabakh settlement], in Turetsko-Amerikanskie Otnosheniya [Turkish-American relations and the Southern Caucasus] (unpublished), ed. Igor Muradian (Yerevan: 2007). 77. Rouben Shugarian, “Regional Security and Cooperation: Armenia and the Caucasus,” Speech Delivered at Center for Strategic and International Studies, Washington D.C. (September 25, 2002 [cited July 2, 2004]); available from http://www.csis.org/media/csis/events/020925_ shugarian.pdf. 78. “Foreign Policy Guidelines,” (Yerevan: Foreign Ministry of the Republic of Armenia, 2001), p. 16. 79. “Baku Paper Interprets Impact of Armenian President’s Iran Visit,” (FBISSOV-2002-0118, January 22, 2002). 80. Emil Danielyan, “Armenia: Yerevan Courts Unlikely New Security Partners—The U.S. and Iran,” (RFE/RL, 2002). 81. “Armenia, Iran Sign Military Cooperation Accord,” (FBISSOV-2002-0305, March 5, 2002). 82. Ibid. 83. “Armenian Agency Says US Sanctions a Sign of Frustration with Armenian-Iranian Ties,” (FBIS-SOV-2002-0513, May 14, 2002). 84. “Atrmenia: Iranian Envoy Says US Sanctions Aim at Psychological Control,” (FBIS-SOV-2002-0527, May 27, 2002). 85. Emil Danielyan, “U.S. Sanctions Expose Unease about Warm Ties between Yerevan and Tehran,” (RFE/RL, 2002). 86. “Armenia: Official Says No Nuclear Talks Scheduled with Iranian Minister,” (FBIS-SOV-2002-0708, July 9, 2002). 87. Ibid. 88. “Armenian Analysts Concerned at Implications of Azeri Role in US Anti-Iran Strike,” BBC Monitoring, May 30, 2003.

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89. “Armenia Not to Alter Ties with Iran for USA’s Sake, Foreign Minister Says,” Arminfo, May 6, 2003. 90. Official statement by the spokeswoman of the Foreign Ministry. In “Armenian Agency Analyses Yerevan’s Refusal to Back Iraq Campaign,” Global News Wire, March 22, 2003. 91. Afshin Molavi, Iran’s Azeri Questions: What Does Iran’s Largest Ethnic Minority Want? (EurasiaNet, April 15, 2003 [cited January 13, 2004]); available from http://www.eurasianet.org/departments/culture/articles/ eav041503.shtml. 92. D. B. Malishev, “Kaspiyskiy Vektor Irano-Rossiyskogo Vzaimodeystviya” [The Caspian vector of Iranian-Russian interaction], in Iranskiy Vopors I Yug Rossii: Proshloe I Sovremennie Perspektivi, ed. Chernous V. V. (Rostov na Donu: 2004). 93. “Armenia: Visiting Iranian Minister Urges Six-Member Regional Security System,” (FBIS-SOV-2003-0430, April 30, 2003). 94. “Azerbaijan Declines Iran-Advanced ‘3+3’ Regional Security Formula,” Financial Times, May 5, 2003. 95. Likhosherstov, “Geopoliticheskiy Aspekt Rossiysko-Iranskix Vzaimootosheniy” [Geopolitical aspect of Russian-Iranian relations], p. 177. 96. Steven J. Main, The Bear, the Peacock, the Eagle, the Sturgeon and the Black, Black Oil: Contemporary Regional Power Politics in the Caspian Sea. (Defense Academy of the United Kingdom: Contemporary Regional Power Politics in the Caspian Sea Conflict Studies Research Centre, December 2005), p. 12. 97. Ibid., p. 22. 98. Jan Panrose, “Nations, Sates and Homelands: Territory and Territoriality in the Nationalist Thought,” Nations and Nationalism: Journal of the Association of the Study of Nations and Nationalism 8, no. 3 (2004): 282. 99. “An Interview with the Deputy Foreign Minister, Gegham Gharibjanian,” Golos Armenii, March 24, 2005. 100. Mohiaddin Mesbahi, “Iran and Central Asia: Paradigm and Policy,” Central Asia Survey No.23, no. 2 (2004). 101. “Foreign Policy Guidelines”, p. 17 102. “Iranian, Armenian Leaders Issue Joint Statement on Consolidating ‘Friendly Ties,’” (FBIS-NES-2004-0909, September 13, 1994). 103. “Iran’s Khatami Pledges Closer Ties with Armenia,” (FBISNES-2004-0909, September 10, 2004). 104. Joint Press Conference of the President of Armenia Robert Kocharyan and President of Iran Mohammad Khatami (The Office of the President of the Republic of Armenia, 2004 [cited September 18, 2006]); available from http://news.president.am/eng/?sub=press&id=83&from=0&year=2004. 105. From a personal interview with Salpi H. Ghazarian, Director of Civilitas Foundation, former special Assistant to Vardan Oskanian, October 2009.

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Chapter 4 1. Dziunik Aghajanian, spokesperson of the Foreign Ministry of Armenia. Quoted by Mark Grigorian, “Europe in the Eye of Armenia” (Paper presented at Europe and the South Caucasus, Baku, June 11, 2001). 2. “Vartan Oskanian, Armenia’s Deputy Foreign Minister, Makes Assessment of Country’s Foreign Policy Achievements,” Armenian Reporter International, January 17, 1998. 3. Schèopflin, Nations, Identity, Power, p. 31. 4. Steven Sampson, “Beyond Transition: Rethinking Elite Configurations in the Balkans,” in Postsocialism: Ideals, Ideologies, and Practices in Eurasia, ed. C. M. Hann (Routledge, 2002), p. 298. 5. Vartan Oskanian, in his capacity as the Head of North America Division at the Armenian Foreign Ministry. In “Forum: What Options?,” Armenian International Magazine 5, no. 5 (1994). 6. “Chronicle,” New York Times, October 1, 1990. 7. “Armenia’s Leader Seeks Support on U.S. Visit Soviet Union: Thrust to the Fore by Events, the Former Dissident Is Due in L.A. On a Mission to Gather Help from `Our Brothers Abroad,” Los Angeles Times, September 30, 1990. 8. “Armenian Chief Steers with Subtlety,” New York Times, April 15, 1991. 9. “Drift to Dictatorship Clouds Armenia’s Happiness,” New York Times, January 3, 1997. 10. “Bush Tells Armenian Leader U.S. Seeks Firm Relationship,” The Washington Post, November 15, 1991. 11. “Armenian Calls for Shift in West Pragmatic President Insists That Union for Republics Is an Illusion,” Christian Science Monitor, October 24, 1991. 12. Quoted in Dick Kirschten, “Ethnic Resurging,” National Journal 27, no. 8 (1995): 484. 13. Vartan Oskanian, “Analysis: Armenia Abroad; After 70 Years under Moscow, the Republic Must Now Decide Its Own Foreign Policy Priorities,” Armenian International Magazine 2, no. 11 (1991). 14. Shain, Yossi, and Aharon Barth, “Diasporas and International Relations Theory,” International Organization 57, no. 3 (Summer 2003). 15. Ana Radelat, “The Race Is On: Who Shall Influence U.S Policy on Armenia?,” Armenian International Magazine 7, no. 2 (1996). 16. Thomas Ambrosio, Irredentism: Ethnic Conflict and International Politics (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2001), p. 154. 17. Quoted in Ibid., pp. 154–155. 18. “Freedom for Russia and Emerging Eurasian Democracies and Open Markers Support Act of 1992,” in CIS-No. 92-PL102-511 (1992). 19. Ambrosio, Irredentism: Ethnic Conflict and International Politics, p. 157. 20. Cornell, Small Nations and Great Powers: A Study of Ethnopolitical Conflict in the Caucasus, p. 371. 21. “Forum: What Options?.”

206

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22. John Maresca, “U.S. Ban on Aid to Azerbaijan (Section 907) How It Started in 1992 and Why It Should Be Lifted,” Azerbaijan International 6, no. 4 (Winter 1998). 23. Svante Cornell, “Turkey and the Conflict in Nagorno-Karabakh: A Delicate Balance,” Middle Eastern Studies 31, no. 1 (Winter 1998). 24. “U.S. Rebukes Armenia on New Drive in Caucasus,” New York Times, April 7, 1993. 25. De Waal, Black Garden: Armenia and Azerbaijan through Peace and War, pp. 226–227. 26. David D. Laitin, “Armenia and Azerbaijan: Thinking a Way out of Karabakh,” p. 145. 27. “Our Sphere, Their Sphere; The United States Has Some Areas of Influence It Shouldn’t Give Up,” Washington Post, October 7, 1994. 28. “US, Armenia Sign Military Accord,” United Press International, August 9, 1994. 29. “America’s Caucasus Opening,” Washington Post, August 8, 1994. 30. John Maresca, “Agony of Indifference in Nagorno-Karabakh: West Must Step in If It Doesn’t Want to See Russia Impose a Solution - and Restore Its Influence,” The Christian Science Monitor, June 27 1994. 31. Richard Giragosian, “U.S. Policy in the Transcaucasus: Implications for Armenian Foreign Policy,” in Orientiri Vneshney Politiki Armenii [Directions of Armenia’s foreign policy], ed. Gayane Novikova (Yerevan: Spectr, 2001). 32. David D. Laitin, “Armenia and Azerbaijan: Thinking a Way out of Karabakh.” Middle East Policy Council Journal 7, no. 1 (October 1999): 163. 33. Khokhar, Camila, and Paul Wiberg-Jorgensen, “United States’ Strategic Possibilities in the South Caucasus,” European Security 10, no. 3 (Autumn 2001). 34. “U.S. Interests in Caucasus Region. Testimony of Robert E. Ebel, Director of Energy and Security Program at the CSIS,” House International Relations Committee (1996). 35. Radelat, “The Race Is On: Who Shall Influence US Policy on Armenia?.” 36. “U.S. Envoys Present Karabakh Plan,” United Press International, March 14, 1996. 37. Quoted in Masih and Krikorian, Armenia: At the Crossroads, p. 124. 38. Ibid. 39. “Testimony of the Ambassador Joseph A. Presel, Special Negotiator for Nagorno-Karabakh,” House International Relations Committee (1996). 40. Armen Khanbabyan, “Boris Yeltsin Meets with Levon Ter-Petrosyan,” Nezavisimaya Gazeta, August 27, 1997. 41. Quoted in Masih and Krikorian, Armenia: At the Crossroads, p. 127. 42. Cornell, Small Nations and Great Powers: A Study of Ethnopolitical Conflict in the Caucasus, p. 378.

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43. Ibid., p. 378. 44. Ross Vartian, “Lessons to Be Learned,” Armenian International Magazine, February 28, 1998), p. 24. 45. Thomas Ambrosio, Challenging America’s Global Preeminence: Russia’s Quest for Multipolarity (Aldershot, UK; Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2005), p. 94. 46. Ibid. 47. Mark Webber, The International Politics of Russia and the Successor States, Regional International Politics Series (Manchester; New York: Manchester University Press, 1996), p. 197. 48. Glen E. Howard, NATO and the Caucasus: The Caspian Axis. NATO after Enlargement: New Challenges, Mew Missions, New Forces (Washington D.C.: Center for Strategic and International Studies, September 1998), pp. 190–191. 49. Statement by H. E. Alexander Arzoumanian, foreign minister of the Republic of Armenia at the Meeting of Heads of State or Government under the Aegis of the Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council July 9, 1997 in Madrid. 50. “Communist Leader Charges Armenia is Pro-Western”, Armenia This Week, February 5, 1999. 51. Statement by H. E. Alexander Arzoumanian, foreign minister of the Republic of Armenia at the Meeting of Heads of State or Government under the Aegis of the Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council (July 9, 1997). Quoted in Inga Paliani, EAPC and PFP Enhancements in Promoting Security—The Caucasian Perspective (2002 [cited May 3, 2007]); available from www.nato.int/acad/fellow/99-01/Paliani.pdf, p. 17. 52. Rouben Shugarian, “From the near Abroad to the New Neighborhood. The South Caucasus on the Way to Europe. A Few Connotations of the Black Sea Context” (Paper presented at the Armenia/the South Caucasus and Foreign Policy Challenges, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, October 21–24 2004). 53. Cornell, Small Nations and Great Powers: A Study of Ethnopolitical Conflict in the Caucasus, p. 382. 54. Khokhar and Wiberg-Jorgensen, “United States’ Strategic Possibilities in the South Caucasus,” p. 1. 55. Cornell, Small Nations and Great Powers: A Study of Ethnopolitical Conflict in the Caucasus, p. 380. 56. Brownback Silk Road Strategy Act Passes Senate Foreign Relations Committee Today (Office of Senator Sam Brownback, March 23 1999 [cited March 1 2006]); available from http://brownback.senate.gov/pressapp/record. cfm?id=175949. 57. “Armenia This Week,” (Armenian Assembly of America, June 25, 1999). 58. “Armenia This Week,” (Armenian Assembly of America, December 17, 1999). 59. Arman Dzhilavyan, “Small Armenia Plays a Big Game,” Nezavisimaya Gazeta, October 27, 1999.

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60. “Kremlin Implements Washington’s Policy in Armenia: Pump up Oil Even over Dead Bodies,” Arminfo, April 30, 2000. 61. Murat Acemoglu, “The Visit of President Kocharyan to the White House,” Armenian Reporter International, June 24, 2000. 62. Igor Muradian, “Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty and the Karabakh Problem [Unpublished].” 63. “Armenian Paper Suggests U.S. Plans between Enhanced Karabakh Role for Iran,” BBC Monitoring Service, May 10, 2001; available from http://azer.com/aiweb/categories/karabakh/media/key_west_after/ media_bbc_iran.html. 64. David Shahnazaryan, “New Challenges and Conflicts in South Caucasus: Nagorno-Karabakh Conflict as the Key Regional Conflict” (Paper presented at the Armenia/the South Caucasus and Foreign Policy Challenges, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, October 21–24 2004). 65. Sergei Shakariants, Artsakhskiy Spektr I Regionalnaya Politika [Artsakh spectrum and the regional politics] (Armenian Center for National and International Studies, May 26, 2001 [cited April 25, 2003]); available from http://www.acnis.am/articles/rus/artsakh.htm. 66. Giragosian, Khachik, and Richard Derghoukassian, The Nagorno-Karabagh Conflict: Why Precipitated Optimism Has Backfired (Armenian News Network / Groong, June 1, 2001 [cited November 9, 2004]); available from http://groong.usc.edu/ro/ro-20010601.html. 67. “Armenia This Week,” (Armenian Assembly of America, May 4, 2001). 68. Richard Giragosian “Repositioning Armenian Security and Foreign Policy within a Region at Risk,” Armenian International Research Policy Group, March 2006. 69. Fred R. Dallmayr, Small Wonder: Global Power and Its Discontents, New Critical Theory (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2005), p. 55. 70. Quoted in Ibid. 71. “Response to Terror; Rumsfeld Visits Caucasus Nations; Diplomacy: Defense Chief, Who Will Stop in Afghanistan Today, Promises Aid for Azerbaijan and Armenia in Return for Help,” Los Angeles Times, December 16, 2001. 72. “Georgia to Host Special US Forces,” in Fortnight in Review (Jamestown Foundation, March 1, 2002). 73. “US-Azerbaijan Program Launched,” in Fortnight in Review (Jamestown Foundation, April 19, 2002). 74. “America to Provide Security Assistance to Armenia and Azerbaijan,” in Fortnight in Review (Jamestown Foundation, April 19, 2002). 75. “Armenia Adjusting Regional Policies,” in Fortnight in Review (Jamestown Foundation, April 19, 2002). 76. Jean-Christophe Peuch, Possible US Military Buildup in Georgia Raises Armenian Concerns (Eurasia Insight, March 14, 2002 [cited March 3,

Notes

77. 78. 79. 80. 81.

209

2004]); available from www.eurasianet.org/departments/ insight/articles/ pp031402.shtml. “CIS Space,” “Russia’s near Abroad,” “Ruled out at U.S.-Russia Summit,” in Fortnight in Review (Jamestown Foundation, May 31, 2002). Ibid. “From Collective Security Treaty to Collective Security Organization,” in Fortnight in Review, (Jamestown Foundation, May 17, 2002). “Armenia This Week,” (Armenian Assembly of America, May 31, 2002). State Department’s full statement reads: The United States concurs with this view, and is deeply disappointed by the electoral irregularities that have been reported. While the presence of Armenian domestic observers in many polling stations was positive, a number of problems were identified: such as ballot box stuffing, “carousel” voting at multiple polling stations, inappropriate military voting, the intimidation, absence or expulsion of opposition proxies, and apparent intimidation of some of the observers. The period between the two election rounds also was marred by a number of shortcomings, including detentions without due process and lack of accountability for irregularities in the first round. Armenia’s leadership missed an important opportunity to advance democratization by holding a credible election. We urge the government to recommit to building a democratic Armenia and to restore public confidence, beginning with a full and transparent investigation of election irregularities and accountability for those responsible. We call on the opposition to pursue its legitimate election grievances through peaceful and legal processes. We expect all political elements in Armenia to avoid post-election violence, and to adhere to the Armenian constitution.

82. “Armenia: Election Marred by Intimidation, Ballot Stuffing,” (Human Rights Watch, March 7, 2003). 83. Abrahamyan, Gayane, and Julia Hakobyan, The Days After: Sargsyan Says Europeans Have “Different Mentality”; Demirchyan Says the Fight Isn’t Over. (March 7, 2003 [cited May 25, 2007]); available from www.armenianow. com/archive/ 2004/2003/march07/home/index.htm. 84. “Armenian Agency Analyzes Yerevan’s Refusal to Back Iraqi Campaign,” BBC Monitoring, March 22, 2003. 85. “US-Armenian Relations in Good Shape, Armenian Ambassador Says,” Mediamax, May 30, 2003. 86. Beck, Ulrich, “Über den postnationalen Krieg,” Blätter für deutsche und internationale Politik 8 (1999), p. 987 . Quoted in Herfried Munkler, New Wars (Cambridge: Polity, 2005), p. 126. 87. Ariel Cohen, Eurasian States Grapple with Difficult Choices over Looming Iraq Offensive (Eurasia Insight, February 28, 2003 [cited April 12, 2005]); available from www.eurasianet.org/departments/ insight/articles/ eav021803.shtml.

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88. Ibid. 89. War in the Neighborhood: Ministry of Foreign Affairs Officer Discusses IraqArmenia-Us Relations (ArmeniaNow.com, March 23, 2003 [cited June 2, 2006]); available from www.armenianow.com/archive/ 2004/2003/ march21/news/index.htm. 90. Emil Danielyan, “Iraq: Pro-Russian Armenia May Benefit Most from U.S.-Led War,” (RFE/RL, April 2, 2003). 91. Ambrosio, Challenging America’s Global Preeminence: Russia’s Quest for Multipolarity, p. 156. 92. “Armenians Discuss Iraqi Conflict,” Armenian Reporter International, March 29, 2003. 93. Dallmayr, Small Wonder: Global Power and Its Discontents, p. 55. 94. Aris Ghazinyan, Should We Stay or Should We Go: Will, Should, Armenia Send Forces to Iraq? (ArmeniaNow.com, September 3, 2004); available from www.armenianow.com/archive/2004/2004/september03/news/iraq/ index.asp.htm. 95. “Rumsfeld Visits Georgia, Affirms U.S. Wish That Russia Honor Istanbul Accords,” American Forces Press Service, December 5, 2003. 96. “Largest US Embassy in the World Is Being Built in Armenia,” Pravda.ru November 27, 2003. 97. “New U.S. Embassy Compound Yerevan Factsheet”; available at http:// yerevan.usembassy.gov/doc/necfactsheet.php. 98. “Armenia This Week,” (Armenian Assembly of America, February 6, 2004). 99. Ibid. 100. “U.S., Armenia Sign Military Compact,” Pacific Stars and Stripes, May 2, 2004. 101. Brian Whitmore, “US Military, NATO Join Forces to Stabilize Caucasus,” Boston Globe, May 19, 2004.” 102. Samvel Martirosyan, “Armenian Troops Deploy to Iraq,” Eurasia Insight, January 21, 2005. 103. “Armenia This Week,” (Armenian Assembly of America, November 22, 2004). 104. A. H. Alexandryan, Armenia on the Road to European Integration (Region Research Center, February 2005); available from http://www.regioncenter. org/en/w-analit-ar.html. 105. Ruben Shugarian, “Globalization in the Context of Armenia’s Foreign Policy” (Paper presented at “Armenia On the Way to Europe” International Conference, Yerevan 2003). 106. Oskanian, “Armenia’s Evolving Relations with United States, Europe.” 107. Vartan Oskanian, “Remarks at the Il Grosso D’oro Veneziano Award Ceremony,” (Venice: 2005). 108. Igor Muradian, unpublished article, 2001. 109. Vartan Oskanian, “Statement at the 113th Session of the Council of Europe Ministerial Meeting,” (Kishinev, Russia: November 6, 2003).

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110. Background Paper on Nagorno-Karabakh (Council of Europe, April 2, 2003 [cited December 4, 2006]); available from http://www.coe.int/t/ e/com/files/events/2003-04-Youth-conflicts/Nagorno_conflict.asp#P342_ 42919. 111. “Armenia This Week,” (Armenian Assembly of America, April 21, 2000). 112. “Armenia This Week,” (Armenian Assembly of America, June 30, 2000). 113. “Closer Than Ever; Armenia Takes Another Step towards Europe,” Armenian International Magazine, October 2003. 114. “Presidential Election 19 February and 5 March 2003 Final Report,” (Warsaw: OSCE, April 28, 2003). 115. Ashot Melian, “Armenia in the Council of Europe: Expectations and Prospects,” in Orientiry Vneshney Politiki Armenii: Sbornik Analiticheskikh Statey, ed. Gayane Novikova (Yerevan: Antares, 2002), p. 31. 116. “Armenia This Week,” (Armenian Assembly of America, July 12, 2002). 117. “PACE Adopts Report on Karabakh Conflict,” in Eurasia Digest (Eurasianet.org, January 28, 2005). 118. Ibid. 119. “Another Armenian Politician Criticizes Pace Resolution on Karabakh,” in Eurasia Digest (Eurasianet.org, January 31, 2005). 120. Gayane Novikova, The Pace Resolution: Levels of Motivations (Spectrum. Center for Strategic Analysis, January 30, 2005 [cited July 27, 2007]); available from http://www.spectrum.am/eng/articles.php?id=54. 121. “MP Says Council of Europe’s Karabakh Resolution Advantageous to Armenia,” in Eurasia Digest (Eurasianet.org, January 27, 2005). 122. “Rezolyutsiya Pase—Vizov K Voyne” [PACE resolution is a call for war], Golos Armenii, February 10, 2005. 123. “Rezolyutsiya Prinyata: Chya Vina I Chto Delat?” [The resolution is adopted: Who is to blame and what to do?], Golos Armenii, January 27, 2005. 124. “Ne Balagan a Uverennoe V Sebe Gosudarstvo” [Not a circus but a self-confident state], Golos Armenii, May 15, 2004. 125. Report by the Secretary of the National Security Council under the President of the Republic of Armenia—Minister of Defense Serzh Sargsyan at the Rose Roth Seminar “Security in the South Caucasus” (October 10, 2005 ); available from http://www.yerkir.am/eng/index. php?sub=news_arm&id=19624. 126. Many of the post-Soviet elites have used these rhetorical tools to turn their country’s geography from a liability into advantage as it is evident in the use of “Eurasianism” by the Central Asian leadership. 127. Shugarian, “From the near Abroad to the New Neighborhood. The South Caucasus on the Way to Europe. A Few Connotations of the Black Sea Context.”

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128. Ibid. 129. Gayane Novikova, The South Caucasus within the Security System of the Black Sea Region (Spectrum. Center for Strategic Analysis, May 5, 2005 ); available from www.spectrum.am/eng/articles.php?id=71. 130. Shugarian, “Globalization in the Context of Armenia’s Foreign Policy.” 131. “Ne Balagan a Uverennoe V Sebe Gosudarstvo” [Not a circus but a selfconfident state]. 132. Alexandryan, Armenia on the Road to European Integration. 133. Curt Gasteyger, Global Security in Perspective; The “Comeback” of Eurasia and the Changing Role of Military Power (Geneva Centre for the Democratic Control of Armed Forces, April 2006 ); available from www. dcaf.ch/_docs/pp13_global_security_perspective.pdf. 134. The European Union Reaches out to the Caucasus and Central Asia. Q&A with Alexander Von Lingen (Eurasianet.Org, May 1, 2001 [cited July 20, 2007]); available from http://www.eurasianet.org/departments/qanda/ articles/eav050101.shtml. 135. “EU/NIS: Agreements Installed with Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia,” European Report (January 10, 1996). 136. “Economic Analysis—the West Is Moving from Humanitarian Aid to Technical Assistance for Armenia,” Armenian Reporter International, September 14, 1996. 137. “ EU/CIS: A Pattern to Building EU Links Further East?,” European Report 25, no. 2160 (September 25, 1996). 138. “INOGATE Opens Doors to Oil and Gas Supplies from East,” European Report 27, no. 2178 (November 28, 1996). 139. Conflict Resolution in the South Caucasus: The EU’s Role (International Crisis Group, March 20, 2006 [cited June 16, 2007]); available from www.crisisgroup.org/home/index.cfm?id=4037. 140. Ibid. 141. Fraser Cameron and Rosa Balfour, “The European Neighbourhood Policy as a Conflict Prevention Tool,” (A European Policy Centre—Conflict Prevention Partnership, June 2006). 142. Célia Chauffour and François Gremy, Nagorno-Karabakh, South Ossetia, Abkhazia: The Workings of the European Policy on South Caucasus (November 28, 2004 [cited July 11, 2007]); available from www.caucaz.com/home_ eng/breve_contenu.php?id=79. 143. “Armenia’s Kocharyan Views Path to Peace, Prosperity,” (FBISSOV-1999-0911, September 13, 1999). 144. Robert Kocharyan, “Address at the OSCE Summit in Istanbul,” (November 19, 1999). 145. “Armenian President, Foreign Minister on Foreign Policy,” (FBISSOV-2000-0322, March 22, 2000). 146. “Armenia Proposes Collective Security Concept for Southern Caucasus,” in Armenia Daily Digest (Eurasianet.Org, March 29, 2000).

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147. Sergiu Cela, Michael Emerson, and Nathalie Tocci, “A Stability Pact for the Caucasus” (June 2000). 148. Ibid. 149. “Foreign Minister Pledges Armenia Will Be Reliable Partner,” (FBISSOV-2000-0310, March 13, 2000). 150. “Working Document on the Communication from the Commission to the Council and the European Parliament on the European Union’s Relations with Countries in the Southern Caucasus in the Context of the Partnership and Cooperation Agreements,” (European Parliament, March 19, 2001). 151. European Parliament Resolution on EU Relations with South Caucasus (February 28, 2002 [cited August 1, 2007]); available from http://www. armenian-genocide.org/Affirmation.217/current_category.7/affirmation_ detail.html. 152. Ibid. 153. Vladimir Socor, “The Dark World of the Armenians,” Wall Street Journal (Europe) October 3–5, 2003. 154. Breffni O’Rourke, “Caucasus: Is the EU Neglecting the Region’s Strategic Impotance?,” Eurasia Insight, March 16, 2003. 155. Vartan Oskanian, “Speech at the Southern Caucasus—Political Challenges and Development Perspectives Conference,” (November 12, 2003). 156. “EU/South Caucasus: Meps Say Union Should Step up Its Role in the Region,” European Report (February 26, 2004). 157. Michael A. Weinstein, “Armenia: The Dream of Complementarity and the Reality of Dependency,” (PINR, September 27, 2004). 158. Alexandryan, Armenia on the Road to European Integration. 159. Célia Chauffour, “Is there an influence of the European events on Caucasus ? Interview with Catherine Lalumière,” 04/12/2004.

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INDEX Abkhazia 35, 155 Abovyan, Khachatur 22, 23 Abrahamian, Levon 5, 6, 14, 27, 110 Afghanistan, war 3, 51, 154 agency 175 Aghdam 118, 126 Aivazian, Armen 15 Akcam, Taner 102 AKP (Justice and Development Party) 55, 97, 99 Aliyev, Heydar 34, 36, 44, 46, 81, 84–85, 94, 118, 126, 143, 150, 152, 153; Ilham, 46, 99, 157, 164, Amirkhanyan, Serge 126 Anatolia 11, 23, 101 ancientness 13, 110, 111 anthropology 1, 5, 6, 9 Arab 111, 113, 122, 159 Ardahan 60, 61 Armenian Assembly of America 140 Armenian National Committee of America (ANCA) 140 army, Armenia 32, 41–42, 80, 160, 165; Iranian, 118; Nagorno-Karabakh 12; Russian, 33, 35–36, 38, 45, 79; Soviet, 24, 45, 60; Turkish, 31, 60, 68, 73, 75, 84 Artsakh 86, 168 Aryan 111, 114 Arzoumanian, Armen 95 Arzoumanian, Alexander 147

Asatrian, Garnik 109 Attaturk, Kemal 59, 60, 61, 102; Kemal, Mustafa, 59, 66, 102 Azerbaijan 12; Anti-Armenian pogroms in Baku, 27; Azerbaijani blockade, 30, 73, 104, 106, 114; Azerbaijani rule in Nagorno-Karabakh, 11; Escalation of NK conflict in 1988–1990, 12, 24, 29; relations with Europe, 163–165; 169; 171–172; relations with Iran, 107–108, 116–119, 122, 126–127, 129, 131; relations with Russia, 32–38, 43–45, 52; relations with the United States, 141–145, 149, 152–154, 156–157, 159–160; Turkish support of relations with, 73–75, 80–81, 84–85, 87, 89, 90, 92, 94, 97–101 Baku-Ceyhan oil pipeline 76, 80, 106, 124 Balayan, Zori 25, 26, 111 Banerjee, Sanjoy 7 Barseghyan, Karine 86 blockade 55, 71, 76, 91, 95–97, 104–106, 113, 114, 124, 127, 131, 141, 149, 150 Bolshevik 22–25, 26, 60, 61 Britain 51 Brussels 147, 150, 166, 168, 169, 171, 172 Brzezinski, Zbigniew 154

240

Bushehr, nuclear power plant Buzan, Barry 3, 8, 9

Index

128

Caspian 76, 80, 115, 116, 119, 120, 124, 130, 143, 148, 149, 169, 170; region, 17, 36, 44–46, 115–116, 120, 130, 169 Caucasus 22, 34, 35, 36, 42, 43, 45, 51, 53, 115–117, 119–124, 129, 130, 136, 139, 142, 143, 145, 147–150, 152–155, 158, 160, 161, 166–168, 170–173 Cetin, Hikmet 68, 69, 73, 81 Chechnya 35, 42, 44 Chrystanthopoulos, Leonidas T. 74 Chubais, Anatoly 47 Ciller, Tansu 73, 80, 81 CIS (Commonwealth of Independent States) 21, 31, 32, 34, 35, 36, 38, 43, 46, 50, 52, 143, 150, 155, 156 civilization 111, 112, 132, 161,162 Clinton, Bill 73, 81, 93, 123, 139, 143, 145, 146, 149, 150, 155 complementarity, policy of 16, 18, 43, 52, 90, 107, 122, 128, 146, 151, 153, 168, 176 Cornell, Svante 89 CSCE (Committee for Security and Co-operation in Europe) 68 culture 107–109, 112 Darbinian, Rouben 25 Dashnak 23–25, 29, 60, 69, 76, 79, 90 Dashnaktsutyun 10, 23, 49, 55, 69, 76, 79, 126, 140, 143, 160 Davtyan, Tigran 105 Davutoglu, Ahmet 96 de Waal, Thomas 125 Demirchyan, Karen 40, 41, 42; Stepan Demirchyan, 49 democratization 139, 156, 165 Deukmejian, George 137

Diaspora 5, 12, 17, 19, 24, 29, 40–41, 45, 55–56, 74–75, 90, 95, 97–98, 100–101; relations with the Republic of Armenia, 56, 64, 69–70, 76, 82–83, 86, 91, 103, 106 earthquake 97 economy 26, 30, 33, 35–39, 42–44, 47–51, 53, 57, 59, 63–65, 67, 68, 70, 72, 75, 76, 80, 82, 85–91, 95, 98, 99, 101, 104–107, 113, 114, 121, 123, 125, 127, 128, 130–133, 144, 146, 148–152, 156, 166–170, 176 Elchibey, Aboulfaz 34, 118 elections, year 1995 83; year 1996, 37–38; year 1999, 40–41; year 2003, 48 embargo 71, 81, 97 Erbakan, Necmettin 81, 85 Erdogan, Recep Tayyip 55, 96, 99 Erkrapah movement 40, 41 Eurasia 4, 52, 152; Eurasian, 51, 96, 97, 105, 106, 160; Eurasianism, 162 Europe 3, 12, 18, 19, 52, 68, 70, 79, 90, 100, 101, 105, 120, 123, 124, 127, 135, 136, 147, 149, 151, 156, 160–174, 177; Council of Europe, 70, 101, 136, 156, 162–164, 167, 170; European institutions, 136, 161; European Union, 4, 10, 16, 18, 135, 136, 163, 166–172; Europeanization, 162, 166, 167 France 39, 69, 94, 169; Gaz de France, 125 Galustyan, Karen 47 Ganja 34 gas 33, 46, 47, 52, 113, 120, 149, 150, 169, 170;

Index

Armenian-Iranian gas pipeline, 119–120, 124–125, 128 Gazprom 125 Geghamyan, Artashes 49 genocide 22, 26, 38, 41, 55, 57–59, 63, 65–67, 69, 71, 78, 79, 82, 86–95, 97–99, 101–104, 106, 111, 141, 177 Georgia 3, 4, 35, 50, 60, 69, 79, 93, 104, 138, 139, 147–149, 151, 154, 155, 159, 160, 163, 169, 171, 172 Germany 10, 49, 169 Giragosian, Richard 101 Gol, Ayla 101 Gorbachev, Mikhail 11, 12, 29 Grachev, Pavel 32, 33, 37 Greece 79 Gul, Abdullah 98, 100 Gulazade, Vafa 46, 80 Guliyev, Vilayet 97 Gyumri 37, 38, 45 Hairikyan, Paruyr 65 Harutyunyan, Khosrov 42 historical memory 4, 12, 41, 56, 110, 130, 175 historical narrative 1, 5–9, 13, 14 historiography 1, 2, 5, 6, 8, 9, 12–16, 24, 27, 28, 72 Hovanesyan, Vahan 98 Hovannisian, Raffi 60, 69, 70, 90, 113, 114 Hovhannisian, Richard 33 Hovnanian, Hirair 140 Hrazdan hydropower plant 47 identity 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 12, 14, 57, 58, 63–65, 87, 88, 101, 106 independence 21, 22, 26, 27, 29, 36, 38, 41, 51. Iran 1, 3, 4, 9, 16, 17, 22, 31, 51, 52, 73, 90, 93–96, 107–133, 135, 139, 145, 148, 150, 151, 161, 169, 171, 175, 177; Iran’s

241

position in Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, 18, 73, 115–119, 125–127, 131; Iranian regime, 109, 114,125, 129 Iraq 81, 97, 123, 129, 131, 148, 153, 157–161 Ishkhanyan, Raphael 28 Islam 110; Islamic, 81, 109, 110, 112, 114–116, 123, 129, 130, 131, 133 Israel 113, 121, 122, 129 Kajaznuni, Hovhannes 23 Kaputikyan, Silva 26 Kars 60, 61, 67, 71, 105, 106 Katzenstein, Peter 8 Kelbajar 73, 118, 126, 142; offensive, 33 Keohane, Robert 6 Khamenei, Ali 118 Khatami, Mohammad 132 Kirakosyan, Arman 37, 157 Kocharyan, Robert 17, 22, 25, 40–49, 52, 53, 86, 89, 90, 92–94, 101, 122, 125–127, 132, 145–147, 150–153, 156, 157, 160, 165, 170–172, 176 Koleini, Mohammad Farhad 128 Kremlin 34, 36, 46, 49 Krikorian, Van 95 Kurdish 74, 81, 84 Lachin corridor 72, 79, 118 Lebanon 18, 113 Lenin, Vladimir 11 Libaridian, Gerard 5, 63, 65, 67, 69, 71, 72, 77, 81–83, 86, 88, 89, 114 liberalization 11 Lisbon Summit 38, 39 Madrid talks 98; summit, 147 majlis 109, 126 Mamikonian, Vartan 110 Manukyan, Vazgen 28, 50, 65, 105, 112

242

Index

Markaryan, Andranik 105, 161 Marukhyan, Hrair 69 Meghri 15, 79, 125 Melkonian, Monte 74 methodology 1, 9 MHP (Nationalist Movement Party) 76 military 26, 29, 31–35, 37–44, 47, 48, 51, 52, 53, 60, 66–69, 71, 73, 74, 80, 81, 84, 87, 92, 102, 117–119, 121–123, 126, 127, 130, 131, 137, 139,141, 142, 146, 147, 150, 153–155, 157–162, 164, 168, 176 Mkrtchyan, Levon 90 Moscow 12, 24, 26, 30, 31, 33, 34, 35, 36, 38, 40, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 52 Muradian, Igor 112 Muslim 109–111, 113, 117, 118, 132 Nagorno-Karabakh 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 22, 24–30, 32, 33, 36, 38, 39–41, 43–46, 49, 115–117, 125–127, 130, 131, 136, 139, 141, 142, 144, 145, 149, 151–153, 155, 156, 158, 160, 162–165, 171, 173 Nakhichevan 11, 15, 31, 33, 60–62, 65, 68, 73, 74, 80, 114, 119, 126, 152 Nationalism 5, 6, 9, 10, 11, 13, 24, 129, 131, 175 NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organization) 43, 44, 51, 96, 98, 101, 122; Partnership for Peace, 147, 148 nuclear 74, 128, 137; power plant 46–48, 74 oil

75, 77, 80, 81, 84, 105, 113, 114, 119, 120, 124 operation “Ring,” 29

OSCE (Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe) 38, 39, 72, 86, 90, 101, 136, 142, 145, 146, 149, 150, 156, 162–164, 167, 170, 172; Minsk Group, 73, 94, 136, 142, 143, 145, 146, 151, 163, 164 Oskanian, Vartan 41, 42, 43, 50, 52, 89, 91, 97, 98, 100, 121, 122, 128, 129, 139, 142, 146, 156, 157, 163, 171, 172 Ozal, Turgut 67, 68 PACE (Council of Europe Parliamentary Assembly) 164–165 PANM (Pan-Armenian National Movement) 48, 63–65, 83, 86, 88, 152 Panossian, Razmik 5 Papazian, Vahan 70, 74, 114 pragmatism 137, 136, 144 Primakov, Yevgeni 37 privatization 75, 85 Putin, Vladimir 42–46, 48, 49, 150, 151, 154, 155, 158 Rafsanjani, Akbar Hashemi 114, 117, 118, 120 regional security complex (RSC) 3, 8, 106, 148, 154 regionalism 130, 166 Rumsfeld, Donald 154, 159 Russia 1, 3–6, 9–12, 16–18, 60, 61, 67, 72, 74, 75, 77, 78, 84, 85, 90, 94–96, 98, 108, 113, 115–117, 119, 120, 122–125, 127–130, 135, 137, 138, 139, 142, 145, 147–158, 162, 167–173, 175, 176, 177; Russian bases, 33–35, 37–38, 45, 51; Russian Empire, 15, 23,

Index

25, 61; Russian-U.S. relations, 51–52, 129–130, 142, 143, 146–149, 151–152, 154–155, 158 Rustamyan, Armen 98

243

Safrastyan, Rouben 91 Sardaryan, Ktrich 28, 65 Sarkisyan, Aram 145 Sarkisyan, Serzh 40, 44–45, 47, 48, 49, 86, 105, 127, 145, 156, 160,165, 172 Sarkisyan, Vazgen 32, 40, 41, 42, 86, 147 securitization 8 security 1, 3, 5, 8, 9, 12, 13, 16, 19, 21, 24, 25, 28, 29, 32, 33, 34, 35, 39, 41, 42, 43, 44, 46, 48, 49, 55–59, 63, 68, 70, 71, 73, 75, 77, 80, 84, 86, 92, 93, 96, 97, 99, 100, 103–107, 115–119, 121–123, 125, 127, 129–132, 135, 137, 143, 144, 146, 148–151, 153–156, 166, 168, 170, 171, 173, 175–177 Shahnazaryan, David 64, 152 Shugarian, Rouben 70 Shushi 72, 79 Siuinik 15 Solana, Xavier 147 Southern Caucasus 10, 16–18, 22, 34, 51, 53, 58, 85, 95–96, 98, 106, 115–117, 121, 129, 130, 142–143, 148, 153, 155, 160, 166, 168, 171–173 Soysal, Mumtaz 75 Sovietization 6, 10, 23–25, 28, 60 Stalin, Josef 11 Syria 113, 114, 123, 172

Talbott, Strobe 144 Tashkent treaty 32, 34 Tehran 109, 111, 113, 115–121, 123–131 Ter-Petrosyan, Levon 5, 12, 17, 22, 26–29, 31–33, 36–41, 53, 62, 63, 65, 66, 68–72, 74–77, 80, 82, 83, 85, 86–89, 137–146, 163, 176 territory 21, 24, 31, 32, 35, 38, 137, 150, 153, 156, 164, 166 terrorism 22, 50, 51, 155, 160, 161, 170 Tovmasyan, Ruben 48 TRACECA (Transport Corridor Europe-Central Asia) 105, 169 Transcaucasus 3, 62, 145, 173 transportation, energy 34, 44, 46, 52, 115, 148, 152, 169; regional, 106, 159 Treaty of: Alexandrapol 11, 61; Kars, 11, 67; Lausanne, 11; Serves, 11, 60, 61; SovietTurkish, 11, 27, 65 Tumanyan, Hovhannes 22 Turkes, Arpaslan 76 Turkey 1, 3–5, 9, 11, 13, 16, 17, 22, 24, 27, 31, 33, 36, 39, 40, 44, 45, 48, 50, 51, 55–81, 83, 85, 87–106, 107, 108, 114, 116, 117, 120, 122–124, 126, 127, 129, 135, 140–142, 144, 147, 150, 151, 155, 157, 158, 164, 166, 171, 173, 175, 176; Armenian-Turkish border, 11, 15, 55, 67, 101, 105, 150; Turkish blockade of Armenia, 17, 31, 71, 76, 95–96, 97, 104–105, 150

TABDC (Turkish-Armenian Business Development Council) 85, 105 TARC (Turkish-Armenian Reconciliation Commission) 94–95

United States 55, 69, 129, 135, 136–146, 148–151, 153–158, 160, 167, 168, 171, 173, 177 U.S. Congress 140, 141, 149, 160 Uzbekistan 45

244

Index

Van 23, 60, 95 Vartanian, Vartan 126 Vartian, Ross 138 Velayati, Ali Akbar 113, 117 Washington 36, 43, 49, 67, 81, 92, 95, 96, 99, 121, 123–125, 127, 129, 137, 138, 140, 143–151, 154–159, 173 West 1–6, 8, 10, 12, 14, 16, 18, 19, 22, 24, 26, 28, 30, 32, 34–36, 38, 40–44, 46, 48–50, 52, 56, 58, 60, 62, 64, 66–68, 70, 72, 74, 76, 78–80, 82, 84,

86, 88, 90, 92, 94–96, 98, 100, 102, 104–108, 110–116, 118, 120, 122, 124, 126, 128, 129, 135–139, 142–145, 147–157, 161–162, 166, 173 wheat delivery 67, 70, 71, 76 Yeltsin, Boris 25, 30, 32, 33, 35, 37, 40, 44, 142 Yilmaz, Mesut 68, 83, 93 Zangelan 152 Zangerzur 60 Zerubavel, Eviatar

14, 48, 58