Loser’s rhetoric Sargsyan’s power dreams vs. real Armenia

"The question of a change of power has always been and remains on our agenda," declared former Armenian President Serzh Sargsyan yesterday while addressing journalists in the courtyard of the courthouse. The choice of venue for broadcasting yet another round of his delusional fantasies—a war criminal who, unfortunately for the Armenian people, once climbed the political Olympus—invites a certain irony and even sarcasm. This is hardly what Sargsyan should be preoccupied with!

Still, words are not sparrows, and even an impotent politician can let them fly. Sargsyan is free to imagine himself as he wishes, but Armenian citizens remember all too clearly the events of seven years ago, when a man who once seemed untouchable lost everything—power, support, and respect—almost overnight.

In the spring of 2018, Armenia experienced what came to be known as the “Velvet Revolution.” Tens of thousands of people took to the streets of Yerevan and other cities, protesting Serzh Sargsyan’s decision to remain in power in a new role as prime minister. Armenian society perceived this move as an attempt at usurpation, a desire to entrench himself permanently on the political Olympus. The mass protests spread and, at one point, became nationwide. The movement attracted not only ordinary citizens but also soldiers, officials, and even police officers.

In the Armenian capital at that time, it was common to see people trampling on portraits of Sargsyan in the streets—a symbolic and humiliating expression of the contempt that much of society felt for a man who had ruled the country for ten years. It is hardly surprising that just a few weeks after the protests began, Sargsyan was forced to resign, uttering a phrase that became a symbol of the end of his political era: “Nikol Pashinyan was right. I was wrong.” For a man accustomed for decades to commanding and controlling everything, this admission marked a sorrowful finale to his political career.

In reality, as subsequent events showed, Serzh Sargsyan—like many members of the former elite, including Robert Kocharyan—hoped to return to power. This was especially true after Armenia’s defeat in the 44-day war in 2020, when the approval rating of the incumbent prime minister, Nikol Pashinyan, dropped significantly. The former president saw this as an opportunity for a comeback. He believed that a society disappointed with the current government would once again turn to its old leaders. But these hopes collapsed just as swiftly as his premiership did in 2018.

In the snap parliamentary elections, Pashinyan’s party, Civil Contract, secured a decisive victory, winning around 54% of the vote. Meanwhile, the political bloc that included Sargsyan’s Republican Party of Armenia managed only 5.23%. This outcome served as a clear verdict.

The Armenian people made it clear: there would be no return to the past. This defeat confirmed what had already been evident after the revolution—most Armenians regarded Sargsyan and his circle not merely with distrust, but with deep contempt. While in 2018 this sentiment was expressed on the streets, three years later it was cemented in the ballot boxes.

Since then, nothing has changed. All recent public opinion polls show that Serzh Sargsyan’s approval rating remains embarrassingly low: only 2–3% of respondents are willing to vote for his party. Against this backdrop, any of his statements about a “change of power” sound not only ridiculous but downright absurd.

Armenians remember the years of his rule: corruption, cronyism, stagnation. These memories have not faded. That is why the “Velvet Revolution” was so massive and unanimous. That is why, in 2021, citizens once again rejected Sargsyan and his circle. And that is why today he is forced to make statements in a courthouse courtyard, rather than on Republic Square.

In reality, the question of a “change of power” has long been absent from Serzh Sargsyan’s agenda. His true concerns are far narrower and more prosaic: “Will he remain free, and with how much of his ill-gotten wealth?” For the vast majority of Armenians, this is the only matter of interest connected to the former president. Everything else is merely the rhetoric of a pitiful loser, whose name in today’s political landscape is nothing more than an echo of a far-from-glorious past.