Velvet Revolution Reconsidered: Pashinyan’s Westward Pivot and the Collapse of Artsakh

Eight years after Armenia's 2018 "Velvet Revolution," Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan's administration has accelerated a neoliberal agenda and pivoted the country decisively toward the West. September 2026 also marked the third anniversary of Azerbaijan's forcible removal of Armenians from Nagorno-Karabakh (Artsakh), a campaign that displaced roughly 150,000 indigenous Karabakh Armenians and reshaped the region's political and humanitarian landscape.

The Diplomatic Tour and Public Outrage

The pain of that mass displacement was deepened in early September when several Western envoys joined an Azerbaijani-organized tour of the recently depopulated territory. Investigative reporter Lindsey Snell documented that among the visitors were senior European Union diplomats and figures linked to the Trump administration, including the U.S. chargé d'affaires in Baku, Amy Carlon. Eyewitness accounts say some diplomats applauded Azerbaijani nationalist displays while others laughed as Hikmet Hajijev, a NATO-trained adviser to President Ilham Aliyev, made cynical jokes about threatened Armenian cultural heritage.

During the visit, many delegations accepted Baku's official narrative that framed historic Armenian monasteries such as Gandzasar and Dadivank as "Caucasian Albanian." That framing provoked widespread anger in Armenia, but Western capitals responded largely with routine diplomatic statements rather than binding measures. Observers note that Azerbaijan's strategic ties to Israel and Turkey, as well as President Aliyev's rapport with Donald Trump, complicate prospects for Western accountability.

Pashinyan's Political Turn

For many Armenians the most surprising element was the tacit acquiescence of Yerevan. Pashinyan rose to power promising a more just and equitable Armenia and at times adopted a tough tone on Karabakh. But critics argue he long regarded Nagorno-Karabakh as an "albatross" holding back Armenia's Westward reorientation. That stance became explicit in October 2022 in Prague, when Pashinyan publicly recognized the mountainous region as part of Azerbaijan—against the declared will of Karabakh's Armenian population.

"Pashinyan's renunciation of Karabakh's self-determination," some analysts say, "signals a broader rejection of the democratic legacy created by Karabakh's mobilization in the late Soviet period."

Domestic Political and Economic Consequences

Many of Armenia's current ills trace back to the turbulent post-Soviet 1990s—corrupt privatization, oligarchic consolidation, shock-therapy policies and widening inequality. The 2018 movement promised to remedy those problems but, according to several scholars, largely replaced one elite with another. Volodymyr Ishchenko and Oleg Zhuravlev have described post-Soviet "color revolutions" as "deficient revolutions" that can reinforce rather than resolve crises of political representation.

Activists in Yerevan echo this skepticism. Nare Navasardyan of the Aknandakan ("Eye for an Eye") documentary collective contends that electoral manipulation, bribery and intimidation still underpin political influence in Armenia, bolstered by Western patronage and capital. Eva Hakobyan of the democratic-socialist group Jaragayt argues the movement lacked a robust program for social transformation and that Pashinyan's policies have emphasized service-sector, consumer-oriented growth aligned with neoliberal orthodoxy.

Critics say the government has presided over a process of de-democratization: persistent poverty, unchecked inequality, neglected labor rights, pressure on political opponents, and a judiciary perceived as insufficiently independent. At the same time, authorities have pursued efforts to bring the Armenian Apostolic Church under closer state oversight—moves that have provoked controversy and accusations of politicization.

Geopolitics, Projects, and Controversies

Although Pashinyan initially framed the 2018 movement as having "no geopolitical context," the administration soon dropped pretense of strict neutrality and moved closer to NATO and the EU. Critics argue that this Westward tilt—driven by a new class of pro-Western elites—coincided with concessions on Artsakh and alignment with strategic actors seeking to check Moscow and Tehran while securing transit and energy routes.

Recent projects have intensified debate over sovereignty and environmental risk. In Hrazdan, the government approved a Firebird AI data center, prompting local environmental concerns. On the southern border with Iran, the Transregional Infrastructure and Protection Partnership (TRIPP) has been presented as a major corridor project; critics fear it could cede long-term control of territory or infrastructure to private foreign interests. Journalists have linked Trump ally Aryeh Lightstone to TRIPP's architecture, a connection critics cite to highlight the involvement of U.S.-aligned actors in Armenian policy initiatives.

Conclusion: Two Armenias

Taken together, critics argue, the Pashinyan administration's record appears less "revolutionary" than its supporters claim. Many Armenians now describe two parallel realities: an Armenia of a politically dominant elite and an Armenia of ordinary people struggling with economic insecurity. The optics of Western diplomats touring a depopulated Artsakh have crystallized broader anxieties about Western realpolitik and declining moral authority—raising the specter that performative diplomacy may precede further geopolitical indifference elsewhere.

Note: This article synthesizes reporting and criticism circulating in Armenian and international media. It attributes key claims to named journalists and activists; readers should consider corroborating details from primary sources and independent investigations.