By Andranik Aboyan
The inevitable has happened. With the war in Ukraine winding down and Washington pulling back from Europe, the geopolitical illusions that sustained Nikol Pashinyan’s foreign policy have collapsed. The man who spent the past four years severing ties with Russia, proclaiming a new era of Western integration, now finds himself crawling back to the very power he declared obsolete.
It was always a question of time. As long as Russia was bogged down in Ukraine, Pashinyan could afford to indulge in the fantasy of a Western-backed Armenia. He froze participation in the CSTO, ignored Moscow’s warnings, and spoke of European integration as if Brussels were prepared to underwrite Armenia’s security. In reality, his gestures were empty, his alliances one-sided. The West offered rhetorical support, occasional diplomatic scoldings of Azerbaijan, and nothing more. When the time came, it did not intervene to stop the destruction of Artsakh, nor did it offer Armenia any guarantees in the face of existential threats.
Now, with Moscow regaining its footing and the United States disengaging from European affairs, Armenia’s strategic position has been exposed for what it is: weak, isolated, and at the mercy of regional powers. Pashinyan’s response? A predictable, humiliating reversal. Armenian officials are suddenly reaching out to their Russian counterparts, diplomatic channels are being “unfrozen,” and Pashinyan himself will soon stand in Moscow’s Red Square, a willing participant in a ceremony meant to remind the world of Russia’s enduring strength.
The Kremlin understands his game. It does not need Pashinyan’s loyalty—only his obedience. It will exact a price for his return: the reinstatement of Russian influence in Armenia’s security affairs, stricter economic dependencies, and a permanent end to the illusion of Western integration. Already, Moscow is making clear the costs of defiance: threats of economic retaliation, deportations of Armenian workers, and the firm reminder that Yerevan’s position in the CSTO is not a matter of debate but of submission.
And so, the cycle is complete. The past four years of foreign policy, the grand talk of a Western future, the insistence that Armenia no longer needed Russia—all of it has led here, to this moment of quiet capitulation. The tragedy is that nothing has been gained. Artsakh is gone. Over a hundred thousand Armenians have been driven from their homeland. And for what? To end up back under Russia’s influence but this time weaker, more vulnerable, and more dependent than ever before.
Pashinyan will try to sell this shift as pragmatism, as a necessary adaptation to changing realities. But history will remember it for what it is: a testament to his utter failure. He gambled Armenia’s future on a vision that never existed, and when that illusion shattered, he did what he always does—he bowed to whoever holds power, clinging to his position at any cost.
