1. Introduction
Armenia’s attempted multi-vector foreign policy – once described as one of ‘complementarity’ – has proven hard to implement. In its broad interpretation, the policy excludes either alignment or confrontation with any power centres, be they Russia, the West or Iran. Instead, it implies evenly balanced partnerships in the service of mutual interests. But Armenia’s abrupt rejection in 2013 of an association agreement with the EU highlighted the imbalance in its foreign policy, as did the 2016 war in Nagorny Karabakh.1
Armenia’s 2013 decision instead to join the Eurasian Customs Union – since renamed the Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU) – marked a U-turn that made it impossible for the country to sign its long-negotiated association agreement with the EU (the proposed agreement had also included provisions for a Deep and Comprehensive Free Trade Agreement – DCFTA). The decision had a security rationale, as the country risked jeopardizing its security if it opted not to join the Russian-led Union. Events in Ukraine a few months later showed how far Russia was willing to go to secure what it considered as its strategic interests in its ‘near abroad’. The then president, Serzh Sargsyan, said at the time that ‘when you are part of one system of military security it is impossible and ineffective to isolate yourself from a corresponding economic space’.2
The security argument, however, swiftly turned to dust when the military situation started to deteriorate not only along the Karabakh Line of Contact between Armenian and Azerbaijani forces, but also along the de jure border between Armenia and Azerbaijan. The situation escalated gradually in intensity and scope between 2014 and 2015, culminating in a four-day war in April 2016 along the Line of Contact which signified that the security rationale of the 2013 decision on regional integration did not hold.
The army of the de facto Nagorno-Karabakh Republic contained the 2016 war militarily. However, against a backdrop of shifting military and geopolitical balance in the region, the war highlighted the political failure of Armenia’s foreign policy. In particular, the violence signified two things. First, the deterrents enshrined in Armenia’s formal alliances had been eroded, failing to preclude war. Even though the country’s bilateral and multilateral agreements do not extend to the de facto republic, they were supposed to act as deterrents against war there, on the grounds that hostilities could easily spill over and trigger treaty commitments from allies. Second, the system of formal alliances within which Armenia had anchored itself had failed to generate adequate political responses or moral support from the other parties. Blind over-reliance on the supposed ‘strategic partnership’ with Russia, and on membership of the Russian-led Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO) and EAEU, has brought a reality of less, not more, security in Armenia’s immediate environment.
At the core of Armenia’s foreign policy is the security predicament underpinned by its closed border with Turkey and the unresolved Armenian–Azerbaijani conflict over Nagorny Karabakh. Multiple attempts to settle differences with Turkey without preconditions have been unsuccessful, largely due to Turkey’s inability to put aside its sense of kinship with Azerbaijan. In the meantime, the Armenian and Azerbaijani positions on the conflict have remained diametrically opposed – leaving the peace talks mediated by the Minsk Group of the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) in a stalemate, and the risk of renewed war high.
The complex ‘pipeline politics’ of energy transit cooperation in the South Caucasus exclude Armenia, as oil and gas pipelines run from Azerbaijan via Georgia to Turkey. This creates temptation in Ankara and Baku to pursue ‘zero-sum’ arrangements in relation to Armenia. The latter has borne the political and economic costs of the isolation associated with its support for Karabakh Armenians’ bid for self-determination, and with its role as their security guarantor. Its foreign policy calculus has centred on overcoming this isolation through forging partnerships with major power centres until a solution for Nagorny Karabakh that Armenians deem fair is reached.
The focus on security has turned into a double-edged sword, however. Over time, maintaining complementarity has proved difficult. The relative balance in foreign policy that Armenia achieved during its early years of post-1991 independence was not sustained, and its geopolitical alignment tilted towards Russia – reflecting the latter’s importance as a provider of hard security. Armenia thus became locked into a vicious cycle: the more it invested in its alliance with Russia (at the expense of relations with other partners), the less symmetrical this alliance became. Eventually, the asymmetry was such that Armenia was unable to benefit as intended from what was meant to be a strategic partnership.
Moreover, the foreign policy sacrifices Armenia had made for the sake of security caused its security deficit to continue growing, until eventually Russia became both security provider and security challenger at the same time. By 2013, Armenia’s over-reliance on Russia in security and economic aspects had become so great that it obstructed further attempts at diversification, as demonstrated by Yerevan’s ultimate failure to sign the EU association agreement. By 2016, the manifest erosion of Armenia’s standing in the partnership with Russia and within the CSTO had created an impression of vulnerability that emboldened Azerbaijan to initiate the four-day war.
As a result of these factors, Armenia’s foreign policy today faces intertwined challenges. One concerns the geostrategic environment, and the security risks stemming from it. The dilemma here is that Armenia needs to continue to ensure its security while correcting its over-reliance on Russia and putting relations with Moscow on a more equal footing. This task is rendered more difficult by a second factor: the contention between Russia and the West.3 The fallout between the two sides and the geostrategic struggle in Eurasia have reduced Armenia’s manoeuvring space, making it more difficult for the country to pursue a multi-vector foreign policy. These developments call for a rethink. Armenia’s obsession with its security predicament has impaired its ability to adapt and respond to new challenges. The new reality requires a strategic approach and unconventional solutions.
Moreover, Armenia is largely on its own when it comes to dealing with this predicament. While an important part of a geostrategically significant region, it is a small country with little foreign policy clout. It is thus caught between a proverbial rock and a hard place. Russia is a supposed strategic partner and security guarantor, but with global aspirations that do not always match – and in some cases go against – Armenia’s interests. Meanwhile the West is trapped in its own crises, and its priorities do not extend to Armenia.
Armenia’s foreign policy is often broadly misunderstood or outwardly ignored. The country is dismissed by some as an inherently pro-Russian small state, and its dilemmas have thus been largely overlooked by the policy and analytical community, especially in the West. This relative lack of attention to Armenia is particularly marked in comparison with the greater policy ‘bandwidth’ accorded to the problems of higher-profile Eastern Partnership states such as Ukraine and Georgia. This is a major impediment to foreign policy engagement with Armenia. While the more informed Western policymakers – such as Armenia experts and diplomats on the ground – acknowledge the country’s unenviable situation, they largely fail to look for solutions.
Armenia has also struggled with a lack of vision and strategic thinking on its own part. Especially over the past five years, its policymaking has consisted of resigning itself to existing geopolitical constraints and waiting for opportunities to emerge, rather than creating a more conducive space for itself. The dominant domestic political discourse on the alleged lack of alternatives for Armenia consumes intellectual energy that could be used for identifying non-conventional policy options.
With the above context in mind, this paper seeks to explore the evolution of the dilemmas in Armenia’s foreign policy since the 1990s. Its primary aim is to offer an informed background for further discussions, beyond the conventional and stereotypical views that dominate policy thinking on this issue in the West as well as in Armenia. The most callous and suffocating of those preconceptions are, but are not limited to, the notion that Armenia is monolithically pro-Russian, that it must first and foremost serve its security needs while neglecting other needs such as asserting its sovereignty, and that there is no room for flexibility in its foreign policy.
Notwithstanding this bleak picture, there is room for optimism. The non-violent ‘Velvet Revolution’ that swept Armenia in April and May 2018 – bringing to power Nikol Pashinyan – has generated fresh hopes for the country’s future. This political transition provides a convenient opportunity to take stock of Armenia’s foreign policy and strategize for the time ahead. The imperative of regaining foreign policy balance is supported by strong public demand for a more symmetric relationship with Russia, and for an expansion of foreign policy and security options. The signing of a Comprehensive and Enhanced Partnership Agreement (CEPA) with the EU in November 2017 has raised hopes that Armenia can regain its European anchor. The country’s relative success in forging security partnerships with NATO and individual Western countries is something to build on, and smart diplomacy can often compensate for geopolitical disadvantages. Iran, too, offers untapped potential for foreign policy diversification.
1 Chatham House publications use the term ‘Nagorny Karabakh’ as a formula avoiding specific inferences as to the structure and number of parties to the conflict. Today’s unrecognized Nagorno-Karabakh Republic encompasses considerably more territory than a strictly geographical concept of Nagorny Karabakh and the territory originally disputed between Armenians and Azerbaijanis in 1988. The author’s preferred term is ‘Nagorno-Karabakh’, which, in her opinion, is more reflective of the de facto realities of the conflict and avoids the impression of referring to a mere geographical area without agency of its own.
2 Danielyan, E. (2013), ‘Sarkisian Opts For Russian-Led Unions’, Azatutyun.am, 3 September 2013, https://www.azatutyun.am/a/25094659.html.
3 This paper refers to ‘the West’ in a broad sense to include the US, NATO, the EU and major European states, while recognizing differences in their policies. It should also be noted that in relation to the South Caucasus, and Armenia in particular, ‘the West’ has meant different things at different points since 1991, depending on whether the US (in the 1990s and early 2000s) or the EU (since the mid-2000s) was more prominently engaged in the region.