Armenia's failure to hold former leaders accountable Paved-over promises

Why are former Armenian presidents Robert Kocharyan and Serzh Sargsyan, along with other high-ranking officials, still not behind bars? On March 6, during the regular briefings at the Armenian National Assembly, Artur Hovhannisyan, secretary of the ruling Civil Contract party’s parliamentary faction, once again raised this issue in response to criticism directed at the current government.

Hovhannisyan’s statement was bold, which naturally called for a concrete answer: when will this happen? After all, besides the faction’s secretary himself, a significant portion of Azerbaijani society is also eagerly awaiting this moment. However, in the end, he avoided giving a direct response, evoking a scene from The Twelve Chairs, where Ostap Bender and Kisa Vorobyaninov tried to extract information from the janitor Tikhon about the fate of Madame Petukhova’s diamonds. "Ostap carefully supported Tikhon so that words could flow freely from his wide-open mouth. Ippolit Matveyevich waited in suspense. But from the janitor’s mouth, where teeth grew not in a row but with gaps in between, came a deafening cry: ‘There were merry days...’” Hovhannisyan, of course, did not shout, but his response was much in the same vein. Instead of a clear answer, he stated that the arrest of Kocharyan and Sargsyan was possible—but only after a complete reform of the judicial and legal system.

Is this not a textbook example of political impotence? What else can be said about those who, despite their best efforts, fail to extract anything meaningful from the situation?

"I, like the majority of our people, am waiting for the final formation of our country’s judicial and legal system," Hovhannisyan added.

But what was the point of this remark? Was it a subtle way of saying that this long-promised reform is as likely as a whistling crab? 

In reality, the names of Armenia’s current rulers are not found on the lists of reformers, but rather on walls and fences—and it’s doubtful that Nikol Pashinyan and his entourage would enjoy reading what’s written there. After all, they once vowed swift, high-profile arrests of their predecessors—almost in real time. Yet, in the end, the only one currently behind bars is former Minister of Education and Science Armen Ashotyan, a close ally of Serzh Sargsyan. And even from prison, he continues to issue bold statements, openly denouncing Nikol Pashinyan—who, in turn, does not hesitate to respond in kind.

What’s curious, however, is that for the arrest of Ashotyan, Armenia’s judicial and legal system appears to have already been formed, but for convicting Kocharyan and Sargsyan—it's not. How can one not recall the famous phrase: it’s impossible to be partially pregnant? Or the monologue by Gennady Khazanov: “We know who, where, when, we have fingerprints, footage from hidden cameras, witness testimonies, but we can't prove anything”?

However, if Nikol Pashinyan failed to deliver on his promise of demographic growth, how could he possibly eradicate traditions that have developed over the years?

His promise to make the Armenian army one of the top thirty strongest in the world turned out to be nothing more than a bluff and empty chatter. During the 44-day war, everyone witnessed how over 11,000 Armenian soldiers fled the battlefield—certainly not in line with Pashinyan’s promise. Years later, little has changed in this regard, but even against this backdrop, the arrest of Robert Kocharyan and Serzh Sargsyan seems like a much simpler task than solving Armenia’s demographic problem.

But that’s in theory. In practice, Pashinyan failed on all fronts—he didn’t bring the army into the top thirty strongest, he provoked and lost the war with Azerbaijan, and he didn’t solve the issue of population decline, despite the influx of tourists, including Russians fleeing from the war.

As for the loud statements about "paving over" those who plundered the country, reality proved to be just as far from the words. Robert Kocharyan and Serzh Sargsyan can now laugh freely at Nikol Pashinyan. Meanwhile, in Baku, once again, the world is reminded that Pashinyan’s words—including those about a desire for peace—should not be trusted.