Look who’s talking The double standards of Russian diplomacy

Russian Foreign Ministry spokesperson Maria Zakharova has delivered yet another rebuke — this time directed at countries that maintain relations with Kyiv. The trigger was Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s remarks on the need for strong ties between Ukraine and Azerbaijan.

According to Zakharova, contacts between Russia’s allies and partners and the “Kyiv regime” allegedly provoke strong rejection in Russian society, while Russians supposedly wonder why friendly states fail to see its “neo-Nazi essence.” Moscow condemns visits to Kyiv, the provision of platforms to Ukrainian representatives, and joint participation with them in political events. The statement follows the familiar rhetoric, and it might have seemed almost logical if not for one circumstance: over the past thirty years, there has been no state that practiced precisely what it now condemns, and on anything approaching the same scale, as Russia itself.

The Karabakh precedent: contacts with separatists

One need only apply Zakharova’s accusation to the recent history of the Russian state itself for it to immediately fall apart. Throughout all the years that Azerbaijani territories remained under Armenian occupation, Moscow did not merely maintain contacts with the separatist regime on another country’s territory — it received its emissaries and patrons at the highest levels.

Arayik Harutyunyan, who headed the separatist junta in Karabakh, travelled to Moscow on “working” and “private” visits virtually until the very end of his tenure. Robert Kocharyan, who began his career within the same separatist project, was for many years among the politicians most favoured by the Russian leadership. If providing a platform and participating in joint events constitutes a “crime,” as the Russian Foreign Ministry now claims, then Moscow committed that “crime” for decades in its dealings with a structure that had occupied the territory of a neighbouring state.

Instrumental “neo-Nazism” and the cult of Nzhdeh

Zakharova’s invocation of the issue of Nazism is particularly revealing, as this is where the double standards become almost caricaturally stark. If the issue is the alleged incompatibility of contacts with regimes espousing such ideologies, then how should one characterise a regime that occupied foreign lands, carried out ethnic cleansing by expelling hundreds of thousands of people on ethnic grounds, and elevated to the status of state ideology the teachings of Garegin Nzhdeh — a figure who collaborated with Nazi Germany during World War II?

In Armenia, streets have been named after Nzhdeh, monuments have been erected in his honour, and his portraits are carried at official events. Throughout all these years, Moscow found nothing objectionable in this and did not rush to sever ties with Yerevan over its peculiar ideological sympathies. To accuse Kyiv of neo-Nazism while turning a blind eye to the cult of Nzhdeh among one’s own ally means using the term “Nazism” not as an objective description, but as a political instrument that can be switched on and off as needed.

The “equidistant” arbitrator with trainloads of weapons

Moscow’s position toward the two South Caucasus states was always based on an overt asymmetry, cloaked in the formula of “equal friendliness.” Officially, Russia declared historical ties with both Azerbaijan and Armenia. In practice, however, Armenia was a military ally within the CSTO, hosted a Russian military base on its territory, and was the recipient of Russian weapons — the very weapons that were subsequently used against the Azerbaijani army and civilian cities.

Talk of equidistant mediation sat poorly with the trainloads of weapons flowing to one side of the conflict. Moscow was not a neutral arbitrator, but an involved player with a concrete material stake — something that is conveniently left out of today’s discussions about “principled” foreign policy.

Illegal visits and regrets over what was lost

The list of what Russia allowed itself to do toward Azerbaijan while its territories remained under occupation does not end there. There was no shortage of illegal visits by Russian journalists, cultural figures, and politicians to the occupied territories. They travelled there without Baku’s consent, bypassing Azerbaijani sovereignty and lending an air of legitimacy to the illegal entity through their presence. Each such trip was precisely what Zakharova now describes as unacceptable: a visit that bypassed the position of the legitimate state and participation in events organised by an illegitimate entity. At the time, this caused Moscow not the slightest embarrassment. That only changed once the host was no longer an enclave beyond Russia’s control, but sovereign Ukraine.

Moreover, Moscow’s attitude toward the Karabakh issue after the war ultimately laid bare the true nature of its “principled” stance. The Russian leadership repeatedly reproached Armenia for eventually recognising Karabakh as part of Azerbaijan — doing so publicly and with barely concealed irritation. Holding on to another country’s territory was portrayed as a moral obligation, while relinquishing the occupation was treated as a regrettable mistake. It is difficult to find clearer evidence of whose side Moscow was truly on throughout all those years.

A mirror-image reversal

Against this backdrop, the situation with Ukraine looks like a mirror-image reversal of Russia’s policy in the South Caucasus. Ukraine did not occupy another country’s territory — it was itself invaded and lost control over part of its own territory. It did not expel people on ethnic grounds — it is defending itself against an attack.

Azerbaijan, for its part, is building exclusively non-military ties with Kyiv — political, humanitarian, and economic — without supplying weapons or interfering in the course of hostilities. Baku is doing incomparably less in relation to Ukraine than Russia did for decades in support of Armenian separatism on Azerbaijani territory. Yet it is Baku that receives reproachful signals from Moscow. The asymmetry is obvious: the victim is condemned for providing humanitarian support to another victim — and the condemnation comes from a state that supported the aggressor.

Zakharova’s statement should be read not as an expression of principle, but as an example of rhetoric in which political expediency has replaced principle.

The right to take issue with other countries’ contacts with Kyiv must first be earned — for example, by never doing what you accuse others of doing. Moscow lost that opportunity long ago. And when its diplomacy lectures others about “neo-Nazi essence” and “unacceptable visits,” the natural response is a simple question: “Look who’s talking?”

Azerbaijan shapes its foreign policy based on its own national interests, not on other countries’ grievances, and no reminders of a loyalty that Baku has never promised Moscow will change that.