Kiriyenko writes, Karapetyan performs: The Kremlin’s show in Yerevan Baku is ready for pre-emptive action

Once again, Armenia finds itself on the sidelines of history—not as a country searching for its place, but as a space where political entropy has reached its peak. There is no longer a centre of gravity, no clear moral or political compass, no sense of propriety—only a prolonged unravelling at the seams. There is neither statehood in any real sense, nor a system of values capable of uniting society. Armenia is increasingly becoming exactly what President Ilham Aliyev has described: a dead-end country and a foreign outpost. Not a true state, but a zone of external governance, where elaborate talk of "democracy" long ago became a smokescreen for someone else’s game.

The political scene in Yerevan is not about parliamentary struggle or ideological debate, but rather a marketplace brawl where the government, the church, and the opposition have long merged into a single cacophony—indistinguishable in both tone and substance. The exchange of vulgar insults, mutual accusations of betrayal, filth spewing from TV screens and church pulpits alike—this has become the new norm. The country is not governed by laws and institutions, but by a simulation of statehood—a hollow shell with no substance. All its key actors are cut from the same cloth, each serving their own narrow interests, lacking both the capacity and the will to build anything independently. Governance has deteriorated to the level of the street—both literally and figuratively.

A particularly shameful role in this spectacle is played by the Church. When monastic walls harbour drunkenness instead of piety, immorality instead of spiritual devotion, and clerical robes conceal individuals involved in shady financial and political schemes, the right to be called an "Apostolic Church" is forfeited. It ceases to be a spiritual compass and becomes an organic part of the broader decay—a tool of political manipulation masked by the rhetoric of faith.

Against this backdrop, the names of the “rehabilitated” grow louder—cleansed and repackaged faces of the old system, whose pasts are steeped in betrayal. Those who just yesterday carried out orders from Lubyanka (the headquarters of the FSB — ed.) are now being reactivated—albeit under new labels. They never left, merely lay in wait for a signal. Just as Ruben Vardanyan was once pushed onto Azerbaijan, a similar scheme is now unfolding around Samvel Karapetyan—a man with a very clear biography and well-defined handlers in the Kremlin.

This is precisely how Russia seeks to inject its “new blood” into Armenian politics—though in reality, it is old, stagnant, but utterly loyal. Not loyal to the people or to any national idea, but to the Kremlin. There is a clear architecture to this scenario: if Vladimir Medinsky, aide to the Russian president, sketches out the ideological contours, then Sergey Kiriyenko, First Deputy Chief of the Presidential Administration, plays the role of the technical architect. He is the scriptwriter of provocations, destabilisation, and systemic resets. It is Kiriyenko who leads the team tasked with plunging Yerevan into controlled chaos—one from which the only exit is through external “assistance,” offered with predictable conditions.

But if anyone thinks Azerbaijan will remain a passive observer while a new-old provocative force is being cultivated next door, they are gravely mistaken. Azerbaijan will not allow the gates to be reopened to those who have already proven their toxicity. If someone is planning to bring Armenian revanchists back to power, let them be warned: Azerbaijan will not remain silent. The response will be swift and precise. This is not a metaphor—it is a reality to be taken literally. Should Azerbaijan’s security be threatened, its reaction will mirror the one Israel recently delivered to Iran. And in the case of Armenia, there will be no geopolitical hurdles, no fears of territorial overreach—the country is far more vulnerable, and the response scenarios have long been prepared.

In Baku, no one is fooled by the rhetoric of an “internal political process” in Armenia. It is well understood that behind the masks of “opposition figures” and “civic activists” stand the same seasoned puppets of Moscow. That’s why Baku’s position is clear: we see everything, we know everyone, and we are ready for anything.

And yet—paradoxical though it may seem—Pashinyan remains the one figure with whom Baku is still willing to engage. The dialogue is difficult, fraught with tension, but it is a dialogue nonetheless. He is the only one with whom some kind of peace agenda is even possible. While the others—the Kremlin’s rebranded agents—are clawing their way back to power with the aim of upending regional stability, Pashinyan is, at least tactically, capable of dialogue. Baku is fully aware of his vulnerability and inconsistency, but even such an unstable partner is far preferable to a power vacuum that would inevitably be filled by revanchism and externally driven scenarios. Azerbaijan’s goal is to prevent catastrophe. That is what makes its position absolutely transparent: if there is a threat, there will be a response. If there is revanchism, there will be deterrence. And if Yerevan is hoping to inject poison into politics under an old brand name, let it be known—Azerbaijan has developed immunity, and the antidote will be administered in time.

History does not forgive those who fail to learn from their own mistakes. The Armenian people would do well to consider where they are once again being led—and whether, when the next “hope” turns to ruin, there will be anyone left to bear the cost.