Pashinyan did not “surrender Karabakh”: an eyewitness account

it would be inaccurate to assign responsibility for the military and institutional failures leading up to the 2020 defeat to Pashinyan alone, writes Zaur Hasanov.

Zaur Hasanov is a U.S. based expert on Eurasia connectivity and security.

On 7 June parliamentary elections will be held in Armenia. Given that the country is a parliamentary republic, the winning party or governing coalition will shape the future government and define the country’s political direction for the coming years.

In the run-up to the vote, political tensions inside Armenia have sharply intensified. Once again, the issue of Karabakh has become central to political confrontation. Opposition forces – largely pro-Russian in orientation – are actively using this issue as their main argument against Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan. Their core claim is that in 2020, Pashinyan “surrendered Karabakh.”

However, this interpretation is an oversimplification and distortion of a far more complex reality. I say this not as an outside observer, but as someone who spent nearly two years in Karabakh immediately after the war, in Shusha, and witnessed events on the ground.

Based on that experience, I can state the following: Pashinyan did not surrender Karabakh. Rather, he attempted to defend it to the maximum extent possible within the limits of Armenia’s actual capabilities. The only thing he can reasonably be criticised for is his populist rhetoric and certain political statements that damaged an already fragile diplomatic process between the parties. One of the most well-known was the statement “Artsakh is Armenia, period,” which significantly angered official Baku. [“Astarkh” is the Armenian name for Nagorno Karabakh – editor note.]

However, the most important point is that the process of escalation and the collapse of the previous status quo began long before Pashinyan came to power – during the rule of earlier political elites, including Robert Kocharyan and especially Serzh Sargsyan. It was Sargsyan who led the latest round of negotiations and engaged with all stakeholders in the conflict, including uncompromising and radical elements of the Armenian diaspora.

The April 2016 Four-Day War between Armenia and Azerbaijan further demonstrated that in any future escalation, Armenia would have limited capacity to retain the territories it controlled. From that moment, it became increasingly clear that another major war was possible at any time. This reality was visible long before Pashinyan’s rise to power. Whether Serzh Sargsyan and his administration were aware that war was coming is clear – yes. Whether they were adequately prepared for it is far more doubtful.

Another widespread claim is that the Armenians of Karabakh were never willing to pursue peace or coexistence with Azerbaijanis. Based on my personal observations, I consider this to be another political myth, reinforced by Moscow-backed political forces in Armenia.

After Shusha came under Azerbaijani control, practical contacts began with Karabakh’s Armenian population. Initially, Azerbaijan needed to organize logistics to Shusha, and the only available route passed through the Qırmızı Bazar (Red Bazaar) district, where Armenians lived. To ensure movement of military and civilian convoys to Shusha, coordination was required between the Armenian population of Karabakh, Russian peacekeepers, and Azerbaijani authorities. These arrangements were carried out in a relatively cooperative and pragmatic spirit.

Another important issue was the Sarsang Reservoir, which historically supplied irrigation water to approximately 100,000 hectares (250,000 acres) of agricultural land across the districts of Tartar, Agdam, Barda, Goranboy, Yevlakh, and Agjabadi. The reservoir also supported the Sarsang Hydroelectric Power Plant, which has a generation capacity of 50 megawatts. After its occupation, water supply to these areas was disrupted, and later officials from Azerbaijan and Karabakh’s Armenian population met in the reservoir area to assess its condition and discuss how it might be managed in the future.

In addition, there were meetings and contacts between Azerbaijani representatives and Karabakh’s Armenian population – both in Khankendi and in Yevlakh – aimed at discussing reintegration possibilities for Karabakh’s Armenian population into Azerbaijan. It was the Azerbaijani side that initiated and proposed the framework for the integration of Karabakh’s Armenian population into Azerbaijan.

These developments demonstrate that, on a practical level, dialogue did exist, even if politically the situation remained extremely difficult.

A major problem in the negotiation process was the internal fragmentation of the Armenian side. In effect, there were multiple centers of influence: Pashinyan’s political line, a Moscow-connected faction associated with billionaire Ruben Vardanyan, and the old Karabakh elite linked to Kocharyan and Sargsyan. This fragmentation weakened Armenia’s negotiating position and made a unified approach impossible.

Yet at the level of ordinary people, the picture was different. Many residents spoke about basic concerns – work, reconstruction, and stability. During the reconstruction period in Shusha, I personally met people who came forward offering their skills in construction, energy, and public utilities.

When we entered Shusha, it was essentially a ghost city. By various estimates, before the conflict the city had a population of around 17,000 people, whereas in the post-war period it had fallen to just a few thousand, most of them military personnel of the separatist forces and their family members, along with around 500 elderly residents surviving on a very low and undignified pension.

The city was in a state of deep stagnation. New construction was minimal, and most infrastructure relied on Soviet-era housing stock. Certain facilities – hotels, schools – were restored selectively and in a limited way.

Overall, the impression was clear: this was a city existing more as a symbol and a military post than as a fully functioning living space. The regional economy was limited and depended on a narrow range of resources – forestry, agriculture, viticulture, gold, mercury, and copper mining, as well as wine production. At the same time, a significant share of income was concentrated in the hands of a small group of local power brokers and other criminal actors.

As a result, many Armenians I spoke with expressed nostalgia for the Soviet era, recalling a period marked by coexistence with Azerbaijanis and relatively stable economic and social conditions. In contrast, the militarised local power structures that used the so-called “Karabakh card” in confrontation with Azerbaijan – and whose policies contributed to the displacement of the Azerbaijani population from their historic lands – also played a role in the economic stagnation and impoverishment of much of Karabakh’s Armenian population.

Another sobering moment for local Armenians, reinforcing these perceptions, was the limited and largely symbolic presence of Serzh Sargsyan and Robert Kocharyan during the 44-day war in 2020, when their visits to Khankendi lasted only a few hours.

The occupation of Azerbaijani territories did not make the Armenian population of Karabakh wealthier or more prosperous. Poverty was visible in many households, and in numerous cases the most recent renovations dated back to the mid-1990s. The regional economy remained fragile and dependent on a narrow resource base, while wealth was concentrated in the hands of a small elite. Against this background, a sense of social inequality and a lack of genuine representation of local interests became widespread. For many local residents, peace was therefore seen not as a political choice, but as a necessity for survival.

These negative realities were observed during the administrations associated with Kocharyan and Sargsyan, including widespread corruption and shortcomings in military development. These structural problems persisted into the period of leadership aligned with Nikol Pashinyan. In this sense, it would be inaccurate to assign responsibility for the military and institutional failures leading up to the 2020 defeat to Pashinyan alone, as many of these issues had deeper roots in the preceding decades under Kocharyan and Sargsyan, which collectively contributed to the conditions of the 2020 war outcome.

For these reasons, I claim that it is inaccurate to attribute the outcome of the 2020 Karabakh war to PM Nikol Pashinyan.

Caption: Prime Minister of Armenia Nikol Pashinyan delivers a speech at the European Parliament in Strasbourg, France, 11 March 2026. The current plenary session runs from 09 to 12 March 2026. EPA/RONALD WITTEK