The duplicity of Paris France’s double standards on Ukraine and Azerbaijan

On December 9 in New York, France’s Permanent Representative to the UN, Jérôme Bonnafont, delivered a speech underscoring Paris’s consistent support for Kyiv. The French diplomat emphasised the need to continue negotiations to end the Russian-Ukrainian war, taking into account the interests of both Kyiv and its European partners.

Meanwhile, Bonnafont stressed that the pursuit of peace must be just and cannot involve concessions that undermine Ukraine’s sovereignty or territorial integrity. He highlighted the principle of “nothing about Ukraine without Ukraine,” adding a parallel formula: “nothing about the security of Europeans without the Europeans.” He described these principles as the essential framework for any potential negotiations with Russia. In other words, France emphasises the primacy of international law, the inadmissibility of altering internationally recognised borders, and the necessity of respecting Ukraine’s statehood.

What France insists on today regarding Ukraine is exactly what Azerbaijan has consistently supported. For decades, Azerbaijan has openly defended the principle of territorial integrity as a cornerstone of international law. Baku’s support for Ukraine’s sovereignty is not a matter of diplomatic courtesy—it reflects its own historical experience.

President Ilham Aliyev has repeatedly stressed that any attempts to pressure Kyiv into ceding its territories under the pretext of a “compromise for peace” are unacceptable. His stance is grounded not only in legal reasoning but also in a deep understanding of how unjust such pressure can feel.

For three decades, while 20 per cent of Azerbaijan’s territory was under Armenian occupation, Baku faced relentless pressure to relinquish its lands under the guise of “realism” or “acceptance of the established status quo.” Azerbaijan knows the true value of sovereignty, the significance of liberating its territories, and the limitations of international promises and resolutions that remained unfulfilled for years.

But this naturally raises a question: why has support for Ukraine’s territorial integrity become an unquestioned axiom for Paris, while for Azerbaijan, a completely different approach prevailed for many years? This is no trivial matter. We clearly remember how French cities signed “sister city” agreements with Azerbaijani settlements under Armenian occupation. We recall that during decades of occupation, France did not impose a single sanction on Armenia. There was not a single explicit condemnation of Armenian aggression or violations of international law from its side. On the contrary, Paris—especially under Emmanuel Macron—publicly expressed sympathy for the occupying state, referring to Armenia as “France’s sister.”

Moreover, during the 44-day war, Paris sought to impede the liberation of Azerbaijani lands and exerted pressure on Baku. Immediately after Azerbaijan’s victory, the French Senate adopted a controversial resolution recognising the so-called “independence” of the fictional “Artsakh.” That resolution quickly lost even symbolic significance following Azerbaijan’s one-day counter-terrorist operation in the Karabakh region in September 2023.

Thus, Azerbaijan’s territorial integrity was finally and irreversibly restored. Yet that shameful resolution of the French Senate remains a fact—a document bearing the unmistakable signature of the French political elite. France even attempted to leverage the UN Security Council against Baku. Why? Because Azerbaijan consistently and transparently upheld the norms of international law and the provisions of Article 51 of the UN Charter on self-defence.

The logic of international obligations demands a consistent approach to the territorial integrity of states. Yet, in practice, we witnessed something entirely different. This situation raises obvious questions: Why is Azerbaijan’s territorial integrity considered “less important” than Ukraine’s? Why is the suffering of a million Azerbaijani refugees and internally displaced persons deemed “less significant” than that of Ukrainians deprived of their homes? Why was the liberation of our lands portrayed as a “threat to peace,” while Ukraine’s analogous struggle is recognised as heroic and just?

Neither Jérôme Bonnafont nor any other French diplomat is likely to give an honest answer to these questions. This is not a matter of international law—it is a matter of political sympathies, domestic lobbying, and geopolitical calculations. In Azerbaijan’s case, Paris long operated under notorious double standards, deciding which victims of aggression deserved sympathy and whose suffering was more convenient to ignore.