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When You Don’t Drive Your Own Train: The Russian Monopoly over Armenia’s Railways

When You Don’t Drive Your Own Train: The Russian Monopoly over Armenia’s Railways

In 2008, Armenia handed over the management of its national railway network to the South Caucasus Railway, a closed joint-stock company owned by Russian Railways, itself a state-owned enterprise of the Russian government. The transfer was carried out under a concession agreement. This means that one of Armenia’s most strategically significant infrastructure assets is operated by a foreign state. Under the terms of the agreement, the company was granted the right to operate the Armenian railway system for a period of 30 years. The concession can be extended by an additional 10 years - until 2048 - if both parties express their intent to do so by August 2027. In this article: The terms under which Armenia’s railway was transferred to Russian management Is the operating company meeting its contractual obligations? Why the government isn’t using its oversight powers under the agreement How the company’s procurement process has escaped public scrutiny The story of a criminal case that was launched - and later dropped - against the operator What current and former railway employees reveal from the inside   “These are different Russians, not the ones we knew,” — from Armenian to South Caucasian Along the Debed River in the Tumanyan community, little remains of the once-bustling Kober railway station. The tracks are still there, along with an abandoned building bearing a fading inscription on its facade: “South Caucasus Railway — Kober Station.” Kober station Former station employee Samvel Shahverdyan helps us reconstruct what the now-ruined station once looked like. “This was the station chief’s office, and that one was for the dispatcher,” he says, guiding us to the balcony overlooking the Debed River. “We used to sit here, have our meals.” Locals were quick to point us to Samvel Shahverdyan’s home when we asked who could tell us about the railway’s past. Now 68, Shahverdyan joined the railway in 1977. His grandfather and father were railwaymen too. From working as a switchman to becoming station dispatcher, from Kober to Sanahin, he spent the final decades of his career - 1989 to 2013 - as the chief of Tumanyan station. “In the 1950s and 60s, the railway had so many employees that buildings, shops, and service points were built just for them. They used to show films in the train cars, and the crowds were so big they had to screen the same film multiple times. There was so much movement, it was beautiful. And now... it’s deserted. Nothing’s left but the passing cars. Look at the station building - no one uses it. It’s like a house: if no one lives in it, it slowly falls apart,” Shahverdyan says. Samvel Shahverdyan He recalls and compares: Soviet Armenia was highly developed, and the railway was a vital link - “a state within a state.” Trains once traveled daily to several international destinations. But after the collapse of the Soviet Union, only one route remained: Tbilisi. “After Independence, we said, ‘We’re independent, we’re independent,’ thinking the trains would keep running as before,” Shahverdyan says. “But Armenia’s routes were shut down. Then came the cuts—they downsized and downsized, closed the stations. I don’t know whose decision it was or who it benefited. Who knows?” Armenia’s railway was transferred to Russian management during the final years of President Robert Kocharyan’s administration. “If this option hadn’t been chosen, ‘Armenian Railways’ would have had no salvation,” said then Minister of Transport and Communication Andranik Manukyan, commenting on the decision at the time. “Please understand this correctly - if we had left Armenian Railways in the condition it was in, within just a few years we wouldn’t have had any rolling stock left,” Manukyan had stated. Samvel Shahverdyan remembers that period well. According to him, on the eve of 2008, Armenia’s railway was in a difficult state, and many - including himself - believed that Russian management would bring real change. In 2007, a decision was made to hand over the Armenian railway under a concession agreement - meaning the rights and responsibilities for using, operating, maintaining, and improving the infrastructure would be transferred to a private company for a fixed period. To select a concessionaire, or operating company, a tender commission was formed on October 18, 2007. Two companies applied to participate: Russian Railways JSC and an Indian company. Archived records from the Ministry of Transport and Communication reveal that a month before the application deadline, the Indian company “RITES” withdrew, citing a heavy workload from ongoing projects. As a result, the Russian state-owned company remained the sole contender to take over the operation of Armenia’s railway. On January 31, 2008, South Caucasus Railway, a company established in Armenia, took over the management of the country’s railway the following month. The concession deal included a one-time entry fee of 1.7 billion AMD and an obligation to pay 2% of annual gross revenue to the state. At the same time, the Armenian government committed to annually subsidizing part of the company’s losses from agreed passenger transportation services. According to the contract, the subsidy rate was set to increase gradually: 10% of losses were compensated in 2009–2010, 15% in 2011–2012, 20% in 2013, 25% in 2014–2015, and from 2016 onward - until the end of the agreement - 30%, provided the subsidy must not exceed or equal the concession fee calculated for that year. However, archival documents on the concession process contain no justification for the increasing compensation rates. What the archival documents do contain, however, are other revealing references to the discussions of the time. Notably, on January 10, 2008, then Minister of Finance and Economy Vardan Khachatryan sent a letter to Transport and Communication Minister Andranik Manukyan raising objections to the financial proposal submitted by Russian Railways JSC, particularly regarding the subsidies. He wrote: “According to the profit and loss forecast, the concessionaire is expected to become profitable by 2015, yet subsidies are anticipated for the entire concession period. Moreover, separating the unprofitable segment of operations (passenger transport) and basing specific calculations and subsidy expectations on that cannot be considered acceptable - especially since, as of now (prior to 2008), Armenian Railways CJSC is operating at a profit without any subsidies.” In the years that followed, financial reports from the South Caucasus Railway company reveal that from 2011 to 2022, the company posted profits - while simultaneously receiving subsidies from the state, as allowed under the contract. Thus, although the Republic of Armenia receives a concession fee from South Caucasus Railway each year, it is largely symbolic: nearly the same amount is returned to the company in the form of state subsidies. *It may appear that in 2013 and 2014 the state subsidies exceeded the concession fees, which would constitute a breach of contract. However, an audit review of the years 2008–2013 shows that while a total of 986.5 million AMD in subsidies was calculated for 2009–2012, only 650.8 million AMD was actually paid. Therefore, the subsidy payments exceeding the concession fees in 2013 and 2014 were most likely used to cover the outstanding obligations from previous years. PhD in Political Science and Expert in Russian Studies Narek Sukiasyan notes that concession management is a common practice, especially for small and developing countries, as managing and upgrading such complex infrastructure requires substantial financial resources and advanced technologies - resources that are often out of reach for these states. “But what many countries try to do to prevent such economic or political engagement from turning into political dependency - and hence vulnerability - is to diversify the actors involved. They avoid granting monopolistic control and instead promote a more diversified structure,” he explains. According to Sukiasyan, even a glance at the railway map makes it clear that it is unlikely to generate significant profit, given its limited infrastructure and the fact that it is connected only to Georgia. “States often engage in unprofitable and seemingly unpromising projects because the value lies not in financial return, but in political dividends. That, I believe, is what happened here - Russia gained yet another lever of influence over Armenia,” he says. Arthur Khachatryan, a Member of Parliament from the opposition “Hayastan” faction, responded to our question about whether it is risky for the railway to be operated not by just a private company, but by one owned by another state. He said that when the state hands over infrastructure to private management, it typically attracts investment and leads to better performance. Therefore, there is no formal restriction on whether the shareholder is a foreign state or a private entity. However, Khachatryan notes that outsourcing inherently involves risks: “I’ve always had serious reservations about outsourcing, if only because the state loses the opportunity to develop in-house expertise and becomes increasingly dependent on the private sector.” Former railway worker Samvel Shahverdyan acknowledges that under the new management, the trains and railways changed, locomotive and line infrastructure improved, and the new managers brought discipline and organization - traits he says were not common among Armenians. “But still, there’s no real progress, or at least I don’t see it. Just look at how many stations have been shut down. A railway should function - it should constantly be transporting goods and passengers. But now? Nothing. In the past, there was so much traffic that workers barely had time to maintain the tracks,” he recalls. So what changed, we ask - after all, management was Russian during Soviet times too. “These are different Russians, not the ones we knew,” Shahverdyan replies. “They’ve changed too. Now it’s all about profit. It’s the same everywhere in the world.” Shahverdyan left the railway in 2013, realizing that he could no longer change anything. He spent several years in Russia working as a truck driver before returning to Tumanyan, where he now tends livestock and keeps bees. “Beekeeping will change you completely - it turns you into a different person,” he says. “The social order of bees is based on the idea of socialism. No one exploits anyone; the key is unity.” He misses the old days of the railway, saying life was joyful back then. He wasn’t earning millions, but he was doing the work he loved - and that, for him, meant happiness. Would you return to the railway if given the chance? we ask. In its current state? he clarifies. In this state - no. “As long as both sides see a benefit, nothing gets done. People are told to get married, have children - just so there’s someone to take care of them someday.” “Managers say that female station chiefs work better and are more attentive,” says Anush Hakobyan, head of the Tumanyan station under the Vanadzor Rail Network. She has held the position since 2015 and was the only woman in that role during her first years. “At first, people thought I was just adventurous, but when you do your job well, questions stop coming up. I have loved the railway since I was a child. Back then, they used to bring logs to be unloaded here, and the distinct smell would linger in the station all day. Since that time, I’ve always had a connection to the railway - it’s always drawn me in… It’s a great happiness to love your work,” Hakobyan recalls. Anush Hakobyan joined Tumanyan station at age 20 and has now worked there for 36 years. When she started, the station had 39 employees; today, only four remain. “The last employee was the cashier, who left around 2008 or 2009. After the lockdowns and many route cuts, some positions simply became unnecessary,” she explains. Anush Hakobyan In Hakobyan’s view, the Armenian railway was in dire condition on the eve of its transfer to Russian management. Trains could barely exceed speeds of 5 km/h, derailments were frequent, equipment was falling apart, and rescuing the system with local resources was impossible. “Armenia simply couldn’t afford to maintain it. We even feared the railway might shut down altogether. We had just come out of the past difficulties - conditions were poor. Someone needed to step in and invest. Other than Russia, there was no country really interested. India had applied, but later withdrew. China’s name came up too, but apparently certain terms didn’t align. As long as both sides see a benefit, nothing gets done. It’s like when people are told to get married, have children - just so there’s someone to take care of them someday. I mean, people are even having children hoping they’ll help them in the future - so why would business work any differently?” Hakobyan explains. She’s skeptical that Armenia will be able to successfully operate the railway once the concession contract with the Russian company expires. “If they manage it the same way they did before 2008, they’ll run it for a few years and then start dismantling and selling it off. Since 2008, two governments have changed, and by 2038 there might be another one - or even the same one - but I still don’t see how we’ll manage on our own. A railway needs order and discipline, and we’re a people far from that,” she says. According to Hakobyan, the Russian side has fully met her expectations since 2008: trains have been modernized, rail lines improved, and salaries are never delayed. Under the concession agreement, the Russian company committed to investing a total of 174.5 billion AMD by 2038 - 122.3 billion in infrastructure and 52.2 billion in rolling stock. While the railway infrastructure remains the property of the Republic of Armenia, the rolling stock is owned by the company. According to data provided by the Ministry of Territorial Administration and Infrastructure, as of 2024, 144 billion AMD had already been invested - 15 billion more than originally planned for the 2008–2024 period. Of that amount, 11 billion was allocated to rolling stock. Notably, under the terms of the agreement, after the contract expires, the rolling stock will either remain the property of South Caucasus Railway or be sold to Armenia at its residual value. In other words, if Armenia wants to retain the upgraded rolling stock, it will have to pay for it. Anush Hakobyan recalls a time when trains from Armenia ran to Azerbaijan, Abkhazia, and Makhachkala. Today, routes are limited to Tbilisi and, during the summer, Batumi. “Though there are fewer destinations now, all trains entering Armenia pass through here. Back in Soviet times, rail traffic was far more active. Now we're under blockade, but even so, rail remains the most environmentally friendly mode of transport. And regardless of the weather, the railway never stops,” she says. When Russian Railways was submitting the investment proposal, it didn’t overlook these former routes either.  In its concession proposal, the company presented 4 investment scenarios. The first, and the only one currently in effect, envisioned continued operation of the sole international corridor via Georgia. The second scenario included the possible reopening of rail links with Turkey starting in 2009, which would have raised investments to 183.9 billion AMD. A third version also considered re-establishing connections with Azerbaijan, boosting investment to 538.5 billion AMD. And under a fourth scenario - if rail access through Abkhazia to Russia were restored - investments would have reached 641 billion AMD. Reflecting on the effectiveness of South Caucasus Railway’s investments, Vahe Davtyan, a political scientist and professor, says that while the funds have undeniably improved infrastructure, rolling stock, and service quality, the overall investment remains modest compared to other regional railway networks. “There are two key issues,” he explains. “First, the allocation of funds does not yet meet the full technical and operational modernization needs of the railway. Second, the regional political and geoeconomic landscape hampers transit potential and the opening of new routes. So while some progress is visible, the railway still isn’t evolving to its full capacity.”   "The Russian side expects legal proceedings to be resolved": Criminal Cases South Caucasus Railway submits annual financial statements to the ministry, approved by an independent auditing company. According to the concession agreement, the Ministry of Territorial Administration and Infrastructure also has the right to commission an independent audit to verify the credibility of the concession fee calculations and, if necessary, to demand additional payments. However, over the 17 years of the Russian company’s operation, the Armenian side has exercised this important oversight mechanism only once. In 2014, the former Ministry of Transport and Communication commissioned an audit of the company’s special-purpose financial reports covering the years 2008–2013. The audit results, presented in 2015, revealed that the company had overstated the subsidy amounts requested for 2009–2013 by around 132 million AMD - including approximately 5 million AMD in 2009, around 18 million in 2010, around 33 million in 2011, and around 76 million in 2012. According to the audit, investments made in infrastructure were also overstated by 551 million AMD. In addition to the audit findings themselves, the auditing company also submitted its own observations to the Ministry of Transport and Communication. Among other issues, the company pointed out that the concession agreement does not clearly define the term “investment” - which expenses qualify as investments, at what stage of spending they are considered completed, and to what extent the classification of an expense as an investment depends on its effectiveness. The methodology for calculating the amount of subsidies was also noted as unclear. For the next three years, the audit results had no significant consequences. The issues identified within the company resurfaced only after the revolution in 2018. Beginning in August 2018, searches were conducted at the company, and documents were seized. In a September 2018 interview with the Russian newspaper Kommersant, Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan stated that the scale of abuses reached $60 million. On December 17, 2018, the Investigative Committee of Armenia announced that a criminal case had been initiated concerning the alleged abuse of power by a former Deputy Minister of Transport, Communication, and Information Technologies. The statement said the deputy minister had received an audit report detailing unfulfilled construction work worth 428 million AMD in the railway infrastructure. However, he failed to request substantiated explanations from the company and, acting in the interest of a group, did not report the issue to law enforcement authorities. As a result, 428 million AMD in investment funds were embezzled. Moreover, no effective steps were taken to address the broader financial misconduct uncovered in the investment process or to compel the company to properly fulfill its obligations under the concession agreement. On December 25 of the same year, Armenia’s Investigative Committee announced that preliminary investigation had revealed evidence of irregularities in the investment process by the South Caucasus Railway CJSC. To determine the actual scale of these violations, the efficiency of investment fund utilization, the legality of financial gains derived from the management of concession assets and rolling stock, and other relevant circumstances, an examination was ordered by the investigator. While the investigation was ongoing, in September 2019, the Russian TV channel RTVI, citing a well-informed source, reported that the Russian operator intended to terminate its agreement with Armenia. This was later confirmed by the press service of Russia’s Ministry of Transport. In April 2020, Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov stated that allied relations should be reflected in all areas, including the economic sphere: “In the economic domain, the Russian side expects that the legal proceedings initiated in recent years against joint ventures, including South Caucasus Railway, will be resolved without attempting involve things that are uncharacteristic of relations between allies.” In response to Lavrov’s statement, Armenian Deputy Prime Minister Mher Grigoryan noted: “Foreign-owned companies operating in Armenia, including those with Russian capital, are first and foremost resident entities. They are employers and taxpayers, and we are equally interested in ensuring favorable conditions for their stable and efficient operation. At the same time, the Government of Armenia will not tolerate any company operating outside the law, regardless of circumstance. On this issue, we have mutual understanding with our Russian partners at the highest political level.” Four months after these statements, in September 2020, the Ministers of Transport of the Russian Federation and the Republic of Armenia’s Ministry of Territorial Administration and Infrastructure signed a protocol of consultations aimed at resolving disagreements that arose during the financial and economic audit of South Caucasus Railway CJSC by Armenian law enforcement agencies. Among other agreements, the parties decided that: The Russian side would reallocate the investment expenditures stipulated by the concession agreement for 2020-2024, increasing them to at least 39 billion AMD. The parties would prepare an updated investment expenditure plan for 2025-2038, identifying sources and mechanisms to cover the estimated shortfall of approximately 95 billion AMD in investment resources for that period. The Armenian side would consider the possibility of state support for the relaunch of the Kavkaz-Poti rail-ferry connection. The parties would discuss amendments to the concession agreement to remove limits on subsidies for passenger transportation. One year after the signing of this protocol, in March 2021, the criminal case was closed due to lack of evidence of a criminal offense. The Ministry of Territorial Administration and Infrastructure is currently developing a new subsidy system draft. The ministry did not provide us with the draft, stating that after receiving, summarizing, and coordinating the positions of the relevant stakeholders, the final version will be put up for public discussion. MP Artur Khachatryan considers it a mistake that the state does not exercise its right to order independent audits, since the South Caucasus Railway operates in the public interest. Political scientist Vahe Davtyan believes that the reasons for not using the audit possibility and for closing the criminal cases are political. According to him, after the 2018 revolution,  the new administration began targeting Russian capital, including the South Caucasus Railway company. “Of course, there were many internal problems in the company, which Armenia’s new authorities had numerous political and diplomatic levers to resolve. However, contrary to political ethics and interstate relations logic, Prime Minister Pashinyan decided to talk about corruption in the company at a meeting with Russian media, creating a climate of mistrust in Moscow-Yerevan relations. And yes, Lavrov’s reaction was quite natural in this context,” the political scientist says, adding that these events were followed by the 44-day war, Moscow’s mediation, certain geopolitical re-evaluations, a move away from harsh anti-Russian stance, and so on, all of which inevitably influenced previously made decisions regarding the company. Expert in Russian Studies Narek Sukiasyan states that after the revolution, a pattern emerged in relations with Russia, when Armenia made “demonstrative steps, often symbolic,” to show independence from Russia, which provoked very negative responses from Russia. “In other words, the pursuit of independence, often pursued by not very sophisticated diplomacy, created a situation where Armenia became vulnerable to Russian pressure, and to counteract negative attitudes, it took steps that in turn led to new forms of dependence on Russia,” he explains.   Pashinyan: By 2024, approximately 39 billion AMD in investments must be made in the railway sector. I want us to grasp the scale of this amount. One year after the signing of the protocol and four months after the criminal case was dropped, on August 18, 2021, Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan announced during a Cabinet meeting that Armenia had reached an important agreement with South Caucasus Railway: “By 2024, around 39 billion AMD in investments must be made in the railway sector. I want us to grasp the scale of this amount. We’ve had quite lengthy and detailed discussions with South Caucasus Railway, and I am very pleased to note that an agreement has been reached. We can now expect that by 2024, we will have a railway system of significantly improved quality.” According to the company’s original investment project, South Caucasus Railway was expected to invest about 15 billion AMD between 2021 and 2025. In effect, the protocol significantly revised the amount of investment initially planned for 2020–2024. As early as September 2021, the Ministry of Territorial Administration and Infrastructure had provided us with a year-by-year breakdown of the planned expenditures for 2020–2024. Updated data provided by the Ministry of Territorial Administration and Infrastructure reveal that planned investment targets were nearly met only in 2020 and 2021. In contrast, the investments made between 2022 and 2024 fell significantly short of expectations. In total, 28.445 billion AMD were invested—10.563 billion less than the amount agreed upon in the protocol.   “All companies of public importance must be required to disclose more information about their operations”. Procurement practices South Caucasus Railway CJSC is not subject to Armenia’s Law on Procurement, nor are there procurement regulations outlined in the concession agreement. The company only publishes calls for tenders on its website, offering no information about the participating or winning companies, nor about the contracts signed. On March 18 of this year, we submitted a FOI request to South Caucasus Railway, asking under which law or regulation its procurement processes are governed. After 45 days, the company responded that procurement is carried out according to internal rules approved by the general director’s order - rules which are not subject to public disclosure. On May 12, we requested access to all tender announcements and resulting contracts from the previous year. The company declined, citing commercial, banking, and personal confidentiality. A few days later, on May 15, we sent another FOI request asking for the names of participants and winners in procurement tenders over the last ten years, along with the subject of each purchase and contract value. Again, our request was denied on the grounds that the information contained commercial and service-related confidentiality. Artak Kyurumyan, an expert in public financial management, argues that all companies of public importance must be required to disclose as much information as possible about their operations, including financial reports and procurement documentation. He emphasized the risks involved: “One of the key concerns is that the government subsidizes certain segments of the company’s activities - specifically in passenger transport - and we have no insight into how oversight is exercised, how costs are calculated, or how the subsidy amounts are determined.” The expert further notes that when it comes to the provision of public services, the public interest must take precedence. “If the state delegates such responsibilities to a private entity, it must also establish benchmarks to assess performance, as well as robust oversight mechanisms and a qualified team to enforce them,” the expert said. Opposition MP Artur Khachatryan believes that if a private company makes purchases for its own operational needs and those do not impact consumer tariffs, then state oversight may not be justified. As far back as 2016, Armenia’s State Commission for the Protection of Economic Competition conducted a six-month study and concluded that South Caucasus Railway often carried out its procurement either through formal, non-competitive tenders or without tenders at all. At the time, Commission Chair Artak Shaboyan stated, “It turned out that the company itself decides from which supplier and under what terms to purchase goods and services. Even when tenders are held, they are often merely formalities. In some cases, we found that companies offering higher prices were declared winners.” The Commission also uncovered that the company had built a production facility at the Gyumri locomotive depot - spending 100 million AMD on construction and 300 million on equipment - to carry out wheelset repairs domestically. Yet, after completion, the repairs continued to be outsourced abroad. The 2015 audit had also revealed that although the company had an internal legal department, it frequently outsourced legal services, incurring significant costs that, in some instances, were not commensurate with the outcomes received. Public financial management expert Artak Kyurumyan notes that if procurement processes are not efficient, and cost-conscious, abuse is inevitable. "These abuses create inflated costs, which may ultimately be included in the subsidy amount. In other words, the Armenian government - and by extension, Armenian taxpayers - will end up financing the company’s inefficiencies,” Kyurumyan warned.   Looking for documents and competent lawmakers on the topic Under the concession agreement, assets were transferred to the Russian side through a formal handover document, which specified the railway infrastructure, fixed, and movable property that the Republic of Armenia granted to South Caucasus Railway for operation. In principle, this document - outlining what exactly was handed over to the Russian company - should have been readily accessible to journalists upon request. In reality, obtaining it was far more complicated. At the time of signing the agreement, the authorized state body was the Ministry of Transport and Communication. Oversight was later transferred to the Ministry of High-Tech Industry and, from 2019, to the Ministry of Territorial Administration and Infrastructure (MTAI). Initially, both the Ministry of High-Tech Industry and MTAI claimed they did not have the handover document. However, following a letter we addressed to Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan, MTAI managed to locate it and eventually provided it to us. But even then, the story didn’t end: we received an incomplete version of the document - missing seven annexes detailing the list of transferred assets. Even a second letter to the Prime Minister didn’t help. The annexes are not kept at MTAI, the Ministry of High-Tech Industry, the Government Office, or even in archival documentation of the concession process. We sent a formal inquiry to Prime Minister Pashinyan, asking why these annexes are missing and what steps, if any, are being taken to recover them. The Prime Minister's Office redirected our request to MTAI, which then requested 30 days to respond. Armen Khachatryan, Head of the Government's Public Relations Department, told us that MTAI is the authorized body and that they have no involvement with the missing documents. Therefore, all questions should be directed to the ministry. Under the terms of the concession, when the agreement expires, South Caucasus Railway is obligated to return the concession assets to the Republic of Armenia. But how will the authorities verify the proper return of these assets without the annexes detailing what was originally transferred? While preparing this article, we asked the Ministry of Territorial Administration and Infrastructure to arrange an interview with the Head of its Railway and Water Transport Policy Department. Although we did not specify a deadline, spokesperson Sona Harutyunyan responded that an interview was not possible due to scheduling constraints. We then informed her that we were open to speaking with any competent official from the ministry. The response was: “We are not considering any interviews at this time. If you have questions related to the topic, please send them in writing.” A week later, we requested an interview with Deputy Minister Armen Simonyan, a member of the Board of Directors of South Caucasus Railway and a senior lecturer at Saint Petersburg State University. Harutyunyan asked us to follow up in a week as Simonyan was on a business trip. When we did, she informed us that the Deputy Minister would be unavailable for two more weeks and suggested scheduling after June 19. Given the scope of our questions and their relevance to the ministry's responsibilities, we submitted a written inquiry and asked for a response within three days. MTAI again asked for 30 days. We also sought the opinion of MPs from the ruling Civil Contract party on the railway concession, future development prospects, and the lack of public oversight in procurement. Not a single lawmaker from the 69-member Civil Contract faction agreed to speak with us. We first reached out to Deputy Speaker of Parliament Hakob Arshakyan, who previously served as Deputy Minister of Transport and later as Minister of High-Tech Industry. His assistant told us he was too busy. Vahe Ghalumyan, Chair of the Parliamentary Committee on Territorial Administration and Local Self-Government, did not respond to our request for an interview. His deputy, Aren Mkrtchyan, declined to comment, citing lack of competence on the subject. The same explanation came from Babken Tunyan, Chair of the Economic Affairs Committee, and MP Vahagn Aleksanyan. We attempted to contact faction leader Hayk Konjoryan to either get his perspective or be referred to a knowledgeable colleague. His assistant promised to call back if the answer was positive. We never received a call. Finally, we also requested an interview with South Caucasus Railway. After being denied, we submitted our questions in writing. As of today, we have received no response from the company regarding our questions.   The Future of the Railway: "The issue of contract extension should be considered a strategic decision." The concession agreement for the South Caucasus Railway is valid for 30 years, until 2038, with an option to extend it for an additional 10 years - until 2048 - provided that both parties notify each other of this intention by August 2027. Given that 2027 is not far off, we asked the South Caucasus Railway company whether they have such intentions and if they have informed the Government accordingly. The company has not responded to our inquiry. We also addressed questions about the extension options and alternative management models to the Ministry of Territorial Administration and Infrastructure. As noted earlier, the ministry has requested one month to respond to these and other questions. Political scientist Vahe Davtyan believes that at this stage, when the South Caucasus Railway has managed to maintain infrastructure viability, implement certain modernizations, and resume international passenger services, extending the contract for 10 more years could ensure operational stability and mitigate transitional risks. However, Davtyan emphasizes the importance of also considering alternative scenarios: “Regional developments, especially the discussions on new transport corridors, suggest that a new approach to the railway system is needed. This may include gradually increasing state oversight over the sector or establishing a new public-private partnership model more closely aligned with national strategic interests. Therefore, the contract extension issue should be treated not only as a technical matter but as a strategic decision, grounded on clear assessments of efficiency, controllability, and adequate response to regional developments.” Regarding Armenia’s capacity to manage the railway without private cooperation or a concession, Davtyan notes that, in theory, the country could have the institutional and technical resources but is severely limited by the absence of a systemic and doctrinal basis in transport policy: “Railway management cannot be seen solely as a technical or financial issue; it requires a clearly formulated transport doctrine as part of a national strategy - something that currently does not exist.” He also points out that ending the concession and changing the management model requires political will, professional human resources, and clear investment mobilization - areas where significant challenges remain. According to Davtyan, before reconsidering the concession model, it is necessary to redefine Armenia’s transport policy as a component of national security, develop an appropriate doctrine, and only then evaluate the feasibility of alternative management scenarios. On the possibility of interest from other countries or companies in operating the Armenian railway, Davtyan says such interest would likely be driven solely by geopolitical motives: “Theoretically, if regional reopening and communication restoration take place, the Armenian railway could become a hub attracting interest from various state and private actors pursuing economic and strategic goals. This would primarily include South Caucasus and neighboring countries, as well as Turkey, Iran, and Central Asian states. It is also important not to rule out interest from Chinese companies, partly within the framework of the Belt and Road Initiative, which aims to expand transport networks toward Europe and the Middle East.” Expert in Russian Studies Narek Sukiasyan also addresses the issue of regional transport reopening, warning that if the railway remains under Russian control, it could pose risks: “Freight turnover - a key component of external economic diversification - could face various risks, with technical reasons, but political consequences. In other words, the railway, which could become critically important, might fail to operate for numerous conceivable reasons. At present, this risk is low because our railway is mainly connected to international infrastructure networks only via Georgia, but as these connections diversify and expand, the potential impact would increase,” Sukiasyan explains.   Thus, in 2008, Armenia handed over its railway system to the South Caucasus Railway for a 30-year concession, with an annual concession fee set in the agreement. However, this fee is largely symbolic due to government subsidies for passenger transport. During the years of Russian management, some investments were made, but the lack of effective oversight, transparency issues in procurement, and risks of political influence raise serious questions about the model’s efficiency. Now, as the deadline approaches for a decision on extending the contract, both the responsible ministries and the lawmakers prefer to avoid addressing these issues. Yet, it is essential to provide an honest answer: can Armenia independently manage the system? If not, at least a more transparent, accountable, and publicly supervised management model must be ensured. From left in the main photo: Alexey Melnikov, General Director of South Caucasus Railway CJSC; Sergey Kopirkin, Russian Ambassador to Armenia; Alexey Overchuk, Deputy Prime Minister of Russia, Armen Simonyan, Deputy Minister of Territorial Administration and Infrastructure. Authors: Lucy Manvelian, Lilith GrigorianVisuals by Lucy ManvelianVideo by Roman Abovyan
22:27 - 18 June, 2025
‘No Money and No Life’: the Soviet Something and Post-Soviet Nothing | PopScie

‘No Money and No Life’: the Soviet Something and Post-Soviet Nothing | PopScie

“So, does your research relate to history? Are you interested in the monastery?” ‘No, I’m researching contemporary history - the Soviet and post-Soviet history of Ajidzor itself, and how people live here.” “There is nothing interesting here [Arm.: ոչ մի հետաքրքիր բան չկա ստեղ]. I’ll tell you straight: there is nothing-no money and no life [Arm.: բան չկա․ փող չկա, ու կյանք չկա].”   *** When anthropologist Maria Gunko visited one of the small towns in Armenia, she expected to hear the word "emptiness" (Arm.: դատարկություն) — a term often used by residents of small towns throughout the postsocialist realm to describe their everyday lived reality. Understanding post-socialist towns — and small-town life more broadly — lies at the core of her research. Maria Gunko Instead, she heard the words "լքված, ավերակ" (Eng.: abandoned, ruin). However, what truly captured her attention was a typical Armenian expression, "ban chka" (Arm.: բան չկա, Eng.: there is nothing). "Sometimes something clings, and you start to see it everywhere. First, you don't see it, and then you cannot unsee it anymore," Maria tells me, sitting in a small café in Yerevan on a sunny morning. When Maria began her fieldwork, she quickly picked up the widespread Armenian phrase "Inch ka chka (Arm.: ի՞նչ կա, չկա, Eng.: what’s up)?" with the most common answer to this greeting being "ban chka," meaning "nothing much" or "everything is fine." But soon she discovered that "ban chka" carries many other shades of meaning. "It was all-encompassing. People would refer to places, to life, to lack of something interesting," Maria explains. And that's how "ban chka" became the central concept of her research about a post-Soviet Armenian town.   The Deaf Observations Maria began her research within the "Emptiness: Living Capitalism and Democracy after Postsocialism" project in 2022. After moving to Armenia from Russia, she chose Ajidzor (the name of the town and the names of the interlocutors are pseudonyms used for protecting the identities of interlocutors) as a place for her study—a decision that came with many challenges. As a foreign scholar, she was unfamiliar with the local context and did not speak Armenian at that time. Despite these obstacles, she went to Ajidzor alone and began her fieldwork. At first, she met with the local administration to gather basic information. But as she notes, "ethnography is not done like that, and you have to live in a place to understand it". Her research stretched over a year and a half, from August 2022 to December 2024. Now, in a paper published in the journal Social & Cultural Geography, she takes readers on a journey to Ajidzor, exploring why there is "nothing" there. In the beginning, when she was just starting to learn Armenian and couldn't understand conversations, Maria focused on visual observations. She was sketching the ruins of the Soviet-era plant, fences made from old radiators, the holes above windows for stove pipes, the empty store, the abandoned school—everything. These observations offered her early insights into the town and its material transformation during the post-Soviet period. In Ajidzor, drawing by Maria Later, once she knew enough Armenian to understand public conversations, she began listening as well. That’s when "ban chka" entered her life and became "her big love," as she puts it. Before exploring this concept further, let's first look at the importance of infrastructuring during the Soviet era and the "dark and cold" reality that followed the collapse of the Soviet Union.   Something from Nothing — and Then Nothing Again Ajidzor was established in the late 1940s and developed around industry, like many other Soviet towns, the author writes. The Soviet authorities built a metallurgy-related plant here, which became a source of high-paying jobs for the local male population. Later, a consumer goods factory was opened to employ women. During conversations with Ajidzor’s residents, Maria often heard that before the plant, there was nothing in this place. Many people migrated from nearby settlements after the plant was established. Once, during a conversation, Maria’s landlord’s parents, Levon and Haikush, told her that their family had lived in a nearby town before the plant, as "there was nothing here" (Arm.: այստեղ բան չկար). Then Maria asked: "But surely there was something?" Levon’s answer followed:  “Don’t know ... maybe sheds for cattle and sheep. On the other side [of the gorge], under the monastery, there was a village, like now. But here, nothing really ... just manure and grass.” In Ajidzor, drawing by Maria Infrastructure creation played a significant role for Soviet authorities. Its purpose was to demonstrate their power and establish their presence everywhere. From the early 1920s, the Soviet regime aimed to transform the predominantly rural Armenian territory into what was then perceived as "a highly industrialized and technologically modern space," the author writes.  Replanning and construction took place in the capital city Yerevan and other urban centers. “The Soviet state came and declared: there is nothing here, so we are going to construct something, modernize, and civilize. A typical colonial discourse of terra nullius awaiting to be conquered,” Maria explains. It was the same in Ajidzor: before the plant, there was a village, but Soviet authorities "perceived it as nothing and embarked on a journey of material remaking and social engineering," as the scholar states. During conversations, many of  Ajidzor residents described the Soviet period as a “socialist heaven, a town full and flourishing with life, with workers hurrying to their shifts in the mornings, children running to school, and couples dancing in the evenings on the main square, shops offering a variety of products, public buses connecting Ajidzor to other parts of the country, and the mail service bringing news from afar.” After the collapse of the socialist regime, post-Soviet countries faced disruptions, closures, and the destruction of infrastructure. Among the reasons for drastically severe outcomes is that the transition from one economic system to another was radical and disorderly, as the author notes.  In Armenia’s case, the infrastructural breakdown "was among the most abrupt and radical in the region." Several factors contributed, including the war with Azerbaijan, the blockade of gas supplies, and the devastating 1988 Spitak earthquake. These events triggered what became known as the "years of darkness" (Arm.: մութ ու ցուրտ տարիներ), lasting until 1995. As a result of the energy crisis, Ajidzor’s plant and factory were shut down. In the early 1990s, they were privatized and then sold off piece by piece. Ajidzor fell into unemployment, suffered electricity and water disruptions, and lost central heating and public transportation altogether. This, as the author states, "stands in stark contrast to the town’s Soviet-era prosperity." Without a centralized heating system, residents were forced to return to wood-burning stoves, which they had used before the 1970s. In a sense, they were "lucky," as the town is surrounded by forests. One of Maria’s elderly interlocutors told her: “It was dark, yes. But at least it wasn’t as cold as it was in Yerevan. We could forage for wood.” A wood-burning stove in a house in Ajidzor, drawing by Maria The author vividly describes the traces of those dark years, evoking the feeling of standing inside a house in Ajidzor, staring at the windows: “(Re)installation of wood-burning stoves required rearranging furniture and removing the upper windowpanes, which were replaced with boards featuring a circular hole to accommodate the stove’s pipe. To this day, the houses bear marks of these modifications –black traces of soot around the improvised chimneys that cut through the windows. The dark years left a profound imprint on all who lived through that period. Every one of my interlocutors had a story of hardship, emphasizing darkness and shortages.” Maria's neighbor Seda recalls how her husband, mother-in-law, and three children huddled together in the kitchen, the only room that had a "nearly normal temperature," as the wood-burning stove was there. “The kitchen became our bedroom, dining room, living room, and study … The kitchen table was multifunctional. Under the light of candles, we read, wrote, and did all the housework.” The author states that the hardships were especially severe for families with young children. Heghineh, the sister of Maria’s landlord’s mother, recalls: “All the chores associated with children became backbreaking work. Imagine swaddling a baby in the winter cold, washing and drying children’s clothes … Those were terrible years.”   Reproducing the Nothing As urban infrastructures broke down during the postsocialist period, individual household solutions—so-called do-it-yourself (DIY) practices—began to replace them. In Ajidzor, these DIY practices were often expressed through the "individualization of heating," as the author writes: "Complicated and even hazardous-looking DIY heating systems, composed of pipes, wires, and chimneys, snake across walls and ceilings, encircling and hanging over the windows of residential buildings." Tangled wires in Ajidzor, drawing by Maria One of Maria's interlocutors, Zaruhi, a young mother of five children, lives with her unemployed husband, who constantly repairs and remodels their house. Zaruhi once said: “Is this life? Look at this house, look at this wood-burning stove – my husband made it himself from rubbish, from nothing (Arm.: ոչնչից բան է ստեղծել) from useless metal sheets left at the heating node … This is how we survive here, with nothing (Arm.: առանց որևէ բանի), with leftovers (Arm: մնացորդներով).” Another resident, Mikayel, a retired engineer who once worked at the plant, has built a garden gazebo from pipes “salvaged” from the plant and apartments. “I assembled it out of what was available, out of nothing (Arm.: ոչնչից), really,” said Mikayel. The interlocutors described these metal sheets as "nothing," since they are dysfunctional remnants from a non-functioning plant. Yet they become "something," gaining new value as part of DIY structures such as the wood-burning stove or the garden gazebo.   Meanings of Ban Chka The very first meaning of ban chka that Maria learned when she began her fieldwork was simple: "nothing much" as a part of phatic speech. But as time went on, she discovered at least three more. “The deeper you go, the darker it gets,” Maria explains. When the scholar had just moved to Ajidzor, she met Yeranuhi, the Head of the House of Culture. When Yeranuhi learned that Maria's research related to history, the only thing she found worth mentioning was the old monastery. But when Maria explained that she was interested in contemporary history, Yeranuhi replied that "there is nothing interesting here." In this answer, Maria uncovered the second meaning of ban chka — there is nothing interesting for an outsider in this town. The author writes: "She conveys a sentiment that only the spectacular–something out of the ordinary–can be interesting to an outsider like me. For instance, the ancient monastery, a subject of numerous historical and archaeological inquiries, is seen as a point of interest. In contrast, Ajidzor is devalued and downplayed due to familiarity and a perceived lack of sophistication." Maria never returns from fieldwork without drawings While investigating Ajidzor’s history, Maria learned that, like many other urban centers, Ajidzor was initially perceived as "nothing" by Soviet authorities, who then came to modernize it — building the plant, the factory, new housing, and the central heating system. Even today, many residents think, "there was nothing here before the plant." The author calls this perspective "colonial ban chka / nothing," another layer of meaning to the phrase. The fourth meaning of ban chka emerged from the second part of Yeranuhi's remark: "ll tell you straight: There is nothing — no money and no life..." Maria describes this as the "relative ban chka / nothing." “Ajidzor, once created from the perceived nothing, has now returned to nothing. …. If the Soviet nothing was entangled with the imaginaries of modernity and creation, then what is the post-Soviet nothing? There are still things inside vacant apartments, but no people who make them a home. There is still machinery in the factory, but no production. There are remnants of desks and teaching materials scattered on the floor in the former school building, but no teachers and students,” writes the author.  This ban chka denotes the lack of important things and phenomena for the interlocutors.   Maria was so fascinated by the different meanings of ban chka that she even wrote a separate article about it during her research. She says writing journalistic pieces and explaining things to the general public helps her process the information she gathers during fieldwork and understand it better. They Came and Destroyed Maria's interlocutors believed that the 1990s were years of "purposeful destruction." Once, while walking with an elderly man named Asha, Maria asked him about a ruined building on the hill. It turned out to be the heating node. When she asked what had happened to it, Asha replied:  “They destroyed it.”  “Who are they?” “The power elites, Ter-Petrosyan [Levon Ter-Petrosyan, president of Armenia 1991–1998], Kocheryan [Robert Kocheryan, president of Armenia 1998–2008] and their friends … They destroyed and sold off everything …” The author notes that Asha attributed the destruction to "them"—the capitalist-state alliance within Armenia—not only to locate agency in the destruction, but also to distance himself from it. “When you don't understand who exactly did it, you tend to say ‘they’. …. In theory, this ‘they’ is this power that is somewhere there, that is not approachable, and it's usually corrupt. And you have no agency to combat it. So there come the conspiracy theories: they are trying to kill us, they are trying to destroy us. But it's just like a handy way of denoting this agency that is beyond your control. It is also a way of a loophole: I have nothing to do with this, it's they, I didn't do anything,” the scholar explains. When Maria and Asha entered the heating node, it was completely empty. There was no equipment; all the pipes had been cut off․ “The bare walls still bore marks of torn-out copper wiring and missing radiators. Under the windows, only hooks were left where radiators once hung.” Radiators became fences, drawing by Maria According to the author, "while the Armenian state may have lacked the resources or political will to sustain the centralized Soviet heating system or support industry, it was the ordinary residents of Ajidzor and surrounding areas who physically disassembled the infrastructure." When Maria asked Asha what had happened to the equipment and pipes, he answered simply, "Pilfered." As the author notes, he used the verb without a pronoun and was reluctant to elaborate further: "What was clear, however, was that Asha reserved less judgment for those who pilfered than for those who destroyed." The author explains that anthropologist Xenia Cherkaev uses the metaphor "gleaning after reaping" to describe the pilfering that followed destruction during the postsocialist period. Another anthropologist, Martin Saxer, similarly notes that "this strategy is not so different from foraging wild herbs, berries, or mushrooms." It was the same in Ajidzor, the author explains. In Soviet times, these materials were common property, and after the state's withdrawal, people found ways to reuse them: “Valuable metals were sold as scrap, while materials that could not be sold were repurposed. Walking through Ajidzor today, one can see the remnants of this (dis/re)assembling everywhere. Cut-off pipes, metal cords, and radiators have been repurposed into fences surrounding private houses and land plots. Metal sheets of all kinds are used to cover roofs, construct various housing extensions and outbuildings (gazebos, sheds, outdoor toilets, and etc.).”   To Learn About Ban Chka, I Had to Become Ban Chka Discovering Ajidzor’s story wasn’t an easy task. In 2022, Maria had just started learning Armenian. By the end of her fieldwork, she knew the language well enough to use what she calls the "Russian-Armenian muddle" of conversations. “I would start with Armenian, they would answer. I would not understand. I would try to ask to translate or we would speak in Russian, and I would ask: ‘How would you say it in Armenian?’ So it would be a little complicated situation. But on the other hand, it put me in a very interesting, actually very useful position because people would have to explain to me very basic things,” Maria says. One of the greatest difficulties Maria faced was dealing with unpleasant incidents involving male residents during her time in Ajidzor. She states that doing fieldwork as a woman is hard — but being a Slavic woman creates additional challenges. “It's not just in Armenia. It's the whole of the former Soviet Union thing when Slavic women were and still are perceived as less chaste. We come from a different culture, where women are more free so to say. But in the eyes of my local interlocutors, this was not freedom but looseness,” she explains. Maria acknowledges that when she decided to move to Armenia and start her research, she wasn't fully prepared for these stereotypes, which initially led to some difficult experiences. Now, she says, she is very cautious about everything. She also recalls that when she first arrived in Ajidzor, she became the only "ban" (Arm.: բան, Eng.: thing) in the residents' eyes. “I was expected to tell them stories about faraway lands, about myself, about my family. For a long while, I was the news. I was the ban,” she says. In response, I smile and say: "Until you became Ban chka." Maria’s answer follows: “Exactly. You're just laughing right now, but this was my strategy—to become Ban chka there.” “Did you succeed?” “Yes, I did! In a way, to learn about Ban chka, I had to become Ban chka.” The first thing Maria did was change her appearance, pulling her hair back in a tight bun and trading colourful clothing for black closed outfits: nothing revealing or tight-fitting. Then she ventured to build a sort of kinship connection with her landlord’s family, so that there was a social network of support and protection. She became close friends with her landlord’s mother. “We would drink coffee, cook something together, I would ask her to teach me to cook, to help her in the garden,” she recalls. When I asked what Armenian dishes she learned to cook, Maria answered in Armenian: “Տոլմա, կլոր գաթա, ավելուկով աղցան (Eng.: dolma, round gata, salad with aveluk).” But the most important step Maria took was bringing her family to Ajidzor. “Now you're going to laugh - my husband laughed at it so much - but I brought him and my two boys. He was walking first, and I was walking behind him in little steps, and he was like: What is going on here? And then I would take him around all of the people with whom I might be talking, all the people I knew, and tell them: This is my husband. And I would be walking around him, serving coffee and being - what's the word? -  համեստ, հանգիստ (Eng: modest, quiet),” she recalls. Maria remembers every detail of one day in July 2023. She was walking with her sons through the main square, where a group of men were gathered in a gazebo. "The guys [in the gazebo] didn't even turn around to look at me. It was the first time they didn't. And then I understood: that's it. I'm 'nothing interesting.' Finally," she says.   *** It was June 2023. Maria was sitting at Ajidzor’s central square, observing. Asha drove by in his sky-blue Lada. He stopped the car, opened the window, and called out to Maria: “Again at the square? Aren’t you bored? There is nothing here [Arm.: ստեղ բան չկա], nothing interesting. Nothing to wait for. Everyone leaves, and you should too, dear girl!” But ban chka is only the first part of this story, Maria explains. Despite everything, people still live in Ajidzor. Residents — especially women — repurpose dysfunctional objects, while men are often working abroad, sending remittances. Diasporan capital flows into the town, attempting to bring some ban — something. Maria’s new scientific articles are expected to be published soon, describing how people live in Ajidzor, side by side with the perceived ban chka, “creating something out of nothing like God from the primordial void”, as the scholar states.   Author: Anna SahakyanPhotos by Roman AbovyanMain photo by Susina Khachatryan The "PopScie" series is implemented with funding from the "Young Scientists Support Program" (YSSP).      
19:50 - 30 April, 2025
Four Years Since the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War: A Data-Driven Reflection on Escalations Between Armenia and Azerbaijan

Four Years Since the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War: A Data-Driven Reflection on Escalations Between Armenia and Azerbaijan

It has been four years since the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War erupted, yet the region continues to witness significant escalations along the Armenia-Azerbaijan border. As with any modern armed conflict, the confrontation unfolds not only "on the ground" but also in the information space. At times, information warfare becomes even more critical, and can significantly impact the capacities of both sides. The events of 2020 and later escalations have left numerous traces in the information space, including news reports and official statements from both Armenia and Azerbaijan. While official statements are often biased — crafted to shape public opinion and support information warfare or disinformation campaigns — they remain valuable for analyzing long-term trends and the rhetorical strategies of the involved parties. Over time, we can now reflect more deeply on the war, subsequent escalations, and the role of information warfare, not only through personal narratives but through a data-driven approach as well.  Daily Reports on Escalations from the Armenian and Azerbaijani Defense Ministries, Smoothed with a 10-Day Average Access this daily updated tool here to stay informed on escalations along the Armenian-Azerbaijani border. If one selects all the news related to armed conflicts, border escalations, and reports of provocations from the official websites of the Armenian and Azerbaijani Ministries of Defense, a general trend of escalation and de-escalation can be observed, as depicted in Graph 1 (details on the data collection process can be found in the section "How We Counted" below). The horizontal dashed line represents the average number of reports issued by the Azerbaijani MoD from 2018 to the present used as a reference point since it was the Azerbaijani side that initiated several major escalations. The analysis of the graph reveals that Azerbaijan significantly outpaces Armenia in terms of information delivery, especially during pivotal events. Most peaks in news coverage related to escalations, such as the 2020 war and the 2023 military operation in Nagorno Karabakh, are dominated by Azerbaijan in the number of reports. Armenia only surpassed Azerbaijan in a few notable instances: during border escalations in May 2021, clashes in September 2022, and near Sotk in May 2023. Furthermore, Azerbaijan’s major escalations are often preceded by a smaller-scale military actions or information campaigns. These may aim to shape public opinion, justify military actions, mask troops' movements, or divert attention from the planned direction of attack. This pattern corroborates previous academic findings and media reports, including those from Armenia.  Azerbaijan’s offensive during the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War, for instance, was preceded by an information campaign accusing Armenia of provocations, while the military operation in Karabakh in September 2023 was prefaced by both an information campaign and actual military actions. Analyzing the rhetoric of the defense ministries is also pertinent, as it reflects the official narratives used by both sides. This analysis is divided into two stages: the first from 2018 to 2020, highlighting events preceding and following the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War, and the second from 2021 onward, reflecting changes in conflict dynamics and rhetoric due to the altered status quo. Figure 2 presents word clouds that illustrate the predominant themes in the rhetoric of the MoDs of both countries between 2018 and 2020. Word Clouds Depicting Key Rhetoric of Armenia (left) and Azerbaijan (right), 2018-2020 The Armenian MOD’s word cloud through 2020 predominantly reflects topics related to the 2020 war. It highlights three main themes: the actions and destruction of Azerbaijani military forces, the defense of Nagorno Karabakh, and efforts to reassure the public that the situation remains stable, albeit tense. The theme of UAVs, which became a crucial tool for Azerbaijan’s military advantage, also features prominently. In stark contrast, the Azerbaijani MoD’s word cloud for the same period reveals a focus on offensive actions. Reports are dominated by updates on the destruction of Artsakh Defense Army units, precision strikes, and the use of aviation and drones. Additionally, Azerbaijan frequently reported artillery shelling by Armenian forces on its territory, using these incidents to justify its retaliatory measures. A comparison of these word clouds reveals a significant finding: the Azerbaijani word cloud is notably denser than the Armenian one, reinforcing Azerbaijan’s dominance in the information space. The Armenian Ministry of Defense produced fewer, shorter, and more general statements, while Azerbaijan issued more frequent and detailed reports. Since the analyzed news comes from the English-language sections of the MoDs’ websites, we could expect these reports to be primarily targeted at an external audience. Thus, Azerbaijan’s  rhetoric appears to be more finely tuned for international audiences, whereas the Armenian messages seem more like direct translations of domestic communications, with less adaptation for an external context. Word Clouds Depicting Key Rhetoric of Armenia (left) and Azerbaijan (right), 2021-2024 The rhetoric of both defense ministries has shown notable similarities after the 2020 war. Both sides frequently emphasized armed clashes and small arms usage during escalations as illustrated in the 2021-2024 word clouds. The Armenian MOD often aims to refute Azerbaijan’s claims naming them as inaccurate, while Azerbaijan consistently frames its actions as responses to provocations from Armenia. Interestingly, Armenian MoD reports have highlighted a specific location of incidents involving the shelling of a metallurgical plant in Yeraskh by Azerbaijani forces in the summer of 2023. This under-construction plant, financed by foreign investments, has become a focal point in Armenian rhetoric. Armenia’s emphasis on this incident appears to be a strategic move to attract international attention and garner diplomatic support by underscoring the violation of foreign investor interests due to Azerbaijani military actions. This shift may indicate an evolution in Armenia’s rhetorical strategy, aiming to engage external actors more effectively — something that was challenging to achieve in 2020. Analyzing reports on escalations not only provides insights into general trends and helps unpacking each side’s rhetoric but also explores the relationship between different types of events. For instance, it is particularly interesting to compare the dynamics of Azerbaijani MoD reports on escalations with those on military exercises. This comparison is especially relevant given that military exercises are often used to prepare troops for specific operations and covertly concentrate necessary resources. There are several considerations to keep in mind. First, each military exercise is usually accompanied by several news reports on individual events, so one event may create a dense information flow increasing the number of reports and frequency of mentions. Second, it is plausible that the more significant and diverse the exercise, the more news it generates. Third, when real combat begins, reports on exercises typically diminish or disappear entirely, as frontline events take priority, even if the exercises continue parallel with military operations. Despite these caveats, we can reasonably assume that a decrease in reports on exercises likely indicates their absence, potentially due to preparations for or the onset of military actions. We can also argue for the reverse logic: the intensification of exercises may indicate both an increased focus on troop training and preparations for military actions. Recent wars and military operations offer numerous examples where exercises masked troop preparations and positioning for conflict. One only needs to recall Russia’s war against Georgia in 2008 or the start of the Ukraine war in February 2022. With this context, we compared the dynamics of Azerbaijan’s MoD reports on escalations with reports of military exercises by the Azerbaijani army and joint Azerbaijan-Turkey exercises on Azerbaijani soil. The findings are illustrated in the graphic below.  Daily Comparison of Reports on Escalations vs. Military Exercises, Smoothed with a 10-Day Average The graph clearly shows that, according to Azerbaijan’s own defense ministry, each major escalation was preceded by a period of intensive military exercises. Before the 2020 war, Azerbaijan was actively conducting training with its units. To be fair, Armenia’s defense ministry reports were also filled with news of exercises that summer,  reflecting summer-fall as a logical period for extensive troop training. However, when we contextualize this with the fact that every major military action by Azerbaijan was preceded by joint Azerbaijan-Turkey exercises on Azerbaijani territory, the connection between military drills and subsequent escalations becomes difficult to ignore. This is further evidenced by the presence of Turkish military units, particularly F-16 fighter jets and Bayraktar drones, in Azerbaijan during the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War.   Summary:  The data-driven analysis of escalations between Armenia and Azerbaijan since the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War reveals that: Azerbaijan consistently dominated the information space, issuing more detailed reports on escalations and military actions fine-tuned for external audiences, compared to Armenia. Major escalations are often preceded by smaller-scale incidents or information campaigns, as seen in Azerbaijan’s systematic narrative of Armenian provocations before both the 2020 war and the 2023 military operation in Nagorno Karabakh, which served to legitimize its actions. Post-2020, both parties have evolved their rhetoric: Azerbaijan has shifted from emphasizing offensive military actions to framing its military moves as defensive responses to Armenian provocations. Armenia has transitioned from focusing on the defense of Nagorno Karabakh to refuting Azerbaijani claims and highlighting incidents with international implications, increasing reliance on international diplomacy to counter Azerbaijan’s dominance. The military exercises, particularly joint Azerbaijan-Turkey exercises, often coincide with the build-up to major military actions. The presence of Turkish F-16s and Bayraktar drones during the 2020 war suggests that Azerbaijan leverages these exercises not only for training but also as preparation for military engagements, using military exercises as a tool for both tactical preparation and signaling. In conclusion, this analysis of open-source data demonstrates the complex interplay between military actions, information warfare, and diplomatic maneuvering in the ongoing Armenia-Azerbaijan conflict. While Azerbaijan’s dominance in both military and information arenas is clear, Armenia’s shifting strategies toward internationalizing the conflict, particularly by emphasizing incidents that affect foreign interests, highlight the multifaceted nature of modern conflict management. As the conflict continues to evolve, these trends underscore the importance of both military capability and the ability to shape the narrative in securing strategic advantage. The dynamics of escalation will likely remain intertwined with both military maneuvers and information warfare, with both sides continuing to vie for control over public perception and diplomatic support. ___________________________________________________________________________________________ How We Calculated This analysis relies on open-source data, meaning the information is not exhaustive and may be biased. For example, a single event — such as a military exercise — can be covered in a series of reports, each highlighting a different aspect adding to the frequency of mention. The shelling by the opposing side may be emphasized, while violations of the rules and laws of war by one’s own forces may be minimized. Nevertheless, despite these limitations, open-source data enables us to discern broader trends and gain insight into how rhetoric and information warfare are conducted. Dynamics of Escalations The data for analyzing the dynamics of escalations was collected from the official websites of the Ministries of Defense of Armenia and Azerbaijan. For consistency, the English version of the news section was used to scrape the relevant news pieces. To ensure accuracy, the news items were filtered using language models, selecting only reports related to escalations such as firefights, military equipment buildups, provocations, UAV incursions, combat operations, shelling, strikes, and destruction of equipment or just the reports aimed to refute the information/disinformation about the specified events distributed by an opponent. Further filtering was applied to retain only the news reports directly mentioning Azerbaijan as an opponent or the Artsakh Defense Forces as an ally of Armenia and Armenia and Artsakh Defense Forces as the opponents of Azerbaijan. The selected news pieces were then aggregated by day, allowing a clearer visualization of the trends in escalations over time. The general trend illustrates the number of reports concerning escalations daily, starting from January 1, 2018. The x-axis represents the months and years, while y-axis values and points on the graph reflect the number of reports from the MoDs of both countries. The lines on the graph represent trends smoothed with a 10-day average, allowing for better visualization of the messaging dynamics, rather than raw data. Word Clouds Word clouds were generated based on the filtered news reports from both MoDs, which were used to analyze the dynamics of escalation and de-escalation. The full text of the news pieces was used. The news pieces were initially categorized by topics utilizing a language model. In the next step, each topic's 10 most frequent words were selected to build the word clouds. Stopwords, settlement names, and regional references were excluded to focus on the rhetoric surrounding the actions of each side, rather than the locations involved. Military Exercises and Escalations Data on military exercises conducted by the Azerbaijani army was gathered from the Azerbaijani Ministry of Defense’s news reports and manually filtered. Only reports on exercises conducted by the Azerbaijani army on Azerbaijani soil without the participation of foreign countries were included. For joint Azerbaijani-Turkish exercises, only reports on training events involving both countries on Azerbaijani territory were considered. Each news item was counted as one exercise, though a single military exercise usually generated multiple reports. Notably, ceremonial events, conferences, and receptions related to the exercises were excluded from the analysis, focusing solely on reports concerning combat training or inspections of military units. The lines on the graph represent smoothed trends, allowing for better visualization of the messaging dynamics rather than raw data.   Iurii AgafonovResearch Fellow, Yerevan Center for International Education (YCIE), Scrapalyze Lab Main photo by Kate Mamyan
21:40 - 30 September, 2024
Animal trade: the uncertain destiny of animals imported into Armenia and the tacit consent of the state

Animal trade: the uncertain destiny of animals imported into Armenia and the tacit consent of the state

Between 2017 and 2022, nearly 4,000 wild animals were imported into Armenia from various parts of the world. The destiny of the majority of these animals remains obscure due to insufficient statistical records and incomplete customs data. The Ministry of the Environment of the Republic of Armenia (MoE), the Food Safety Inspection Body (FSIB), and in some cases, the National Academy of Sciences (NAS) and the Environmental Protection and Mining Inspection Body, are the authorities that issue permits and conclusions for the trade of wild animals, but they do not have access to comprehensive information about imported and exported animals. The customs service of the State Revenue Committee (SRC) similarly lacks comprehensive information regarding the importation and exportation of animals. This deficiency is attributed to what they describe as "objective and subjective" factors, including incomplete documentation in customs records.   From the Republic of South Africa (RSA) to private companies in Russia via Armenia In 2021, 45 giraffes were imported into Armenia. During the transfer, one of them perished, and another one died shortly after arriving in Armenia. The fate of the remaining giraffes is currently unknown. Several months following their importation into Armenia, agreements were reached to sell 30 of the giraffes. Re-export permits were issued for 12 of them to "Ovatsiya" LLC, based in the city of Tula, Russia. This company is involved in the retail trade of food, including meat and meat products. Another 12 giraffes were intended to be sent to “Yaltinsky Zoo SKAZKA” LLC. Additionally, permission to export the remaining 6 giraffes was granted to an individual undertaker Eduard Sergeyevich Khachaturyan. Khachaturyan's name has previously been cited in the media in connection with suspicious transactions involving the transportation of wild animals from Armenia to the Russian Federation. However, none of these transactions were completed due to a ban imposed by Rosselkhoznadzor of the Russian Federation in 2020. The ban prohibits the entry of animals from RSA, as well as animals sensitive to aphthous fever, into Russia.Giraffes were imported to Armenia by "Fauna Zoo" LLC, whose owners previously conducted animal trade transactions through "Zoo Fauna Art" LLC, which went bankrupt in 2017 and is currently undergoing liquidation. The bankruptcy manager, Samson Ghukasyan, informed "Infocom" that the area where this company is registered is mortgaged and will soon be sold. However, the sale is being delayed due to an issue concerning the status of the land. At least four government agencies in Armenia have facilitated this import transaction by issuing permits and providing favorable professional opinions. These agencies include the Ministry of Environment of the Republic of Armenia (MoE), the Food Safety Inspection Body (FSIB), the National Academy of Sciences (NAS), and the Environmental Protection and Mining Inspection Body. However, none of these entities offer complete information regarding the current status of the animals.   How is the Scientific Center of Zoology and Hydroecology of the NAS of RA involved in the importation of giraffes? Observations by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) indicate a significant decline in giraffe populations over recent decades. Studies from 1985 to 2015 reveal a decrease of 36-40% in giraffe numbers, attributed to increased human exploitation (anthropogenic factors) and habitat loss. Since 2016, giraffes have been included on the IUCN Red List with a "Vulnerable" (VU) status. The IUCN estimates there are approximately 68,293 mature individuals of giraffes. Since 2019, giraffes have been classified under Appendix II of the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES). This placement further emphasizes the necessity to prioritize conservation efforts and protect these animals.  The Scientific Center of Zoology and Hydroecology of the National Academy of Sciences of the Republic of Armenia submitted a written conclusion to the Ministry of Environment, stating that giraffes cannot survive in Armenia's natural environment. At the same time, the conclusion affirms that the facilities of "Fauna Zoo" LLC adhere to all international norms and standards of animal care, enabling the temporary housing of the animals on the premises. Thus, the scientific center did not oppose the importation of 45 giraffes without any scientific justification. In the official documents, the purpose of importing giraffes was stated to be for animal trade and breeding. In other words, the main purpose of importing the animals is further resale. In the professional conclusion of the Scientific Center of the National Academy of Sciences, environmental damage resulting from the importation, the impact of climate change on the animals, and the effects of keeping them in captivity were not considered. Observations by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) indicate a significant decline in giraffe populations over recent decades. Studies from 1985 to 2015 reveal a decrease of 36-40% in giraffe numbers, attributed to increased human exploitation (anthropogenic factors) and habitat loss. Since 2016, giraffes have been included on the IUCN Red List with a "Vulnerable" (VU) status. The IUCN estimates there are approximately 68,293 mature individuals of giraffes. Since 2019, giraffes have been classified under Appendix II of the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES). This placement further emphasizes the necessity to prioritize conservation efforts and protect these animals.  The Scientific Center of Zoology and Hydroecology of the National Academy of Sciences of the Republic of Armenia submitted a written conclusion to the Ministry of Environment, stating that giraffes cannot survive in Armenia's natural environment. At the same time, the conclusion affirms that the facilities of "Fauna Zoo" LLC adhere to all international norms and standards of animal care, enabling the temporary housing of the animals on the premises. Thus, the scientific center did not oppose the importation of 45 giraffes without any scientific justification. In the official documents, the purpose of importing giraffes was stated to be for animal trade and breeding. In other words, the main purpose of importing the animals is further resale. In the professional conclusion of the Scientific Center of the National Academy of Sciences, environmental damage resulting from the importation, the impact of climate change on the animals, and the effects of keeping them in captivity were not considered.   Giraffes and other wildlife, unseen and unheard In 2021, efforts were made to determine the whereabouts and living conditions of the 43 giraffes imported into Armenia. Despite repeated attempts to contact the “Fauna Zoo” company, our inquiries were unsuccessful as they refused to respond to our questions.The "Fauna Zoo" is registered at 148 G. Mahari Street (Erebuni administrative district). This address is stated in all documents as the location of animal importation. Assuming that the giraffes brought from RSA are housed at this address, we submitted a written request to the FSIB in 2022 regarding the animals kept in the area.The FSIB didn't provide specific numbers for the giraffes, but they did mention giraffes, zebras, goats, tigers, lions, monkeys, parrots, and rhinos being housed at the address. That's the latest update we have on the giraffes at 148 G. Mahari Street. However, when we pressed for further information, both the FSBI and EPMIB stonewalled us, saying they needed written consent from the company. Our visit to the premises of "Fauna Zoo" LLC yielded no new information. G. Mahari Street is a residential area, a typical street in Yerevan. Surprisingly, even the residents of the neighborhood are unaware of the presence of wild animals living nearby. They have neither seen, heard, nor sensed the presence of such a large number of animals in their vicinity. This is despite the fact that, according to data from the SRC, MoE, and FSIB, there are supposedly 43 giraffes, 20 zebras, 49 ibex, 20 crocodiles, 20 caracals, 20 servals, 20 genets, lions, and tigers kept in this area.   Unveiling the official data According to the data provided by the SRC, 3,941 wild and exotic animals with different conservation statuses were imported to Armenia from different countries in 2017-2022. Due to the lack of complete records, the fate, status, location and conditions of most of these animals are unknown. Quantity and customs value of wild animals imported to and exported from Armenia, 2017-2023 Only 703 of the imported animals, mostly small birds, were exported. Put differently, official data indicates there should be 3,238 imported animals in Armenia. However, no state institution, including the MoE, responsible for issuing animal import permits, provides complete information about the location and status of these animals. Dashboard 1 (3) Some of the imported animals, sought for entertainment purposes, can be found in various private spaces. For instance, they are housed in the residence of former NA deputy Gagik Tsarukyan, or in the "Hrashk Aygi" restaurant. According to the state register, the restaurant's owner is the son of former Prime Minister Hovik Abrahamyan's driver. Monkeys, for instance, have become readily available for purchase in Armenia. Furthermore, influencers also play a role in the sale of animals.     “The convention is aimed at protecting wildlife, not promoting their trade” The main import partner countries to Armenia are the RSA (18 animal species) and Benin (16 animal species). These African countries are known for their rich wildlife, but also for poachers and animal traffickers. The Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES) categorizes animal species into three appendices based on their level of threat: Appendices I, II, and III. In Appendix I are endangered animal species, and the transportation of these specimens is permitted only under exceptional circumstances. The CITES permit is issued by both the exporting and importing countries. Species listed in Appendix II are endangered and require constant monitoring. The CITES permit is issued solely by the exporting country. Animal species listed in Appendix III are less endangered, but their transport is still regulated and documented, with no permit required. Between 2017 and 2022, Armenia imported 9 endangered (Appendix I) and 32 threatened (Appendix II) animal species. The remaining animal species either fall under Appendix III or have not yet been listed in the Convention. The purpose of the Convention is frequently misunderstood and misinterpreted, particularly in Armenia and the African countries, which are common sources of imported animals. Maria Vorontsova, a candidate of biological sciences and international expert, and a regular participant in UN Conferences of Parties, explains: "This convention was established when it became evident that animals were being extracted from nature and transported globally. CITES serves as the document that regulates and aims to mitigate this process. CITES primarily deals with cross-border transportation. Many people mistakenly view it as a trade convention, but that's not the case. Its main focus is on regulating the movement of wildlife across borders, with the aim of protecting wildlife rather than promoting trade. CITES countries are required to have domestic legislation that either matches or exceeds the standards set by the Convention. For instance, Australia, home to numerous parrot species, has implemented a complete ban on their export as a means to reinforce CITES regulations. The convention doesn't mandate such action, but Australia takes pride in its fauna and sees no reason to remove parrots from the country. Experience has shown that exporting them typically leads to unfavorable outcomes—they often perish." According to another expert, Iman Memarian, a veterinarian consultant with European Association of Zoos and Aquaria (EAZA), there is also a significant risk of corruption in animal trade. "Unfortunately, the Convention doesn't assess the conditions of captivity or the country's overall capacity to care for the animals. Corruption is prevalent, even prior to licensing."   Animals resold at prices substantially lower than their original purchase cost Instances where animals can be traced through customs data often reveal suspicious business transactions. For example, in 2020, four African marabou were imported from Benin, with a total customs value of 647,400 AMD, equating to 168,600 AMD per bird. The following year, ten more marabou were imported, valued at 1,082,000 AMD in customs value, making the cost of each bird 108,260 AMD.  Seven of these birds were exported to Ukraine at a significantly lower customs value, priced at 35,800 drams each, totaling 250,840 drams. In other words, the selling price is several times lower than the import price. Such a significant price gap suggests less of a profitable business venture and more of a charitable endeavor or financial loss. This transaction likely involved "Yerznkyan Zoo Center" LLC, as export permits indicate that this company obtained re-export authorization for 7 African marabou birds from the Ministry of Environment in 2021. This circumstance should have prompted the SRC to thoroughly and efficiently investigate the import and export data for the same item. Such a significant price difference between imports and exports may suggest a risk of tax evasion.   Who bears ultimate responsibility? The issue of wild animal trade and Armenia's involvement in it could be a subject of continuous study and discussion, given numerous incidents like the disappearance of the 43 giraffes. Yet, the most pressing question remains unanswered: where are these animals now, and in what condition do they find themselves? It appears that both local and international legal regulations have tasked state bodies with providing answers to this question. However, the available facts do not shed light on the matter. The CITES establishes universal regulations and standards governing the global transportation of wild animals, leading to the establishment of permit-granting systems within individual countries. Oversight of this system falls to the respective state authorities. In Armenia, the Ministry of Environment serves as the coordinating body, while scientific guidance is provided by the National Academy of Sciences. The Ministry's issuance of numerous permits for the import and export of protected wild animals is evidently a concerning factor with potential environmental repercussions. Many cases of animals being exploited for entertainment or private trade have been documented in Armenia, highlighting the apparent indifference of the Ministry of Environment and other relevant authorities. For instance, the FSIB and Environmental Protection and Mining Inspection Body decline to disclose information regarding the quantity and welfare of animals housed within the premises of "Fauna Zoo" LLC. The National Academy of Sciences, which provided a favorable professional opinion for the importation of large quantities of wild animals without scientific justification, and the Customs Service of the State Revenue Committee, which permits the transportation of animals across borders without sufficient supervision. In essence, the CITES Convention primarily concerns the cross-border movement of wild animals, suggesting that permits should only be granted in cases of dire necessity, rather than for commercial or business motives. It’s remarkable that Armenia's governmental institutions deviate from the core tenets of the Convention; instead, they permit and even facilitate numerous transfers of wild animals, leveraging their authority to issue CITES permits. It appears that the convention grants each country the autonomy to establish and adhere to its own regulatory framework. Undoubtedly, there is a significant population of animals already held in captivity under substandard conditions within the country. However, this inadequately regulated trade continues to fuel their numbers.   Author: Mariam Tashchyan Infographics: Bibinur Bolotkanova Mentor: Kate Mamyan
20:11 - 28 February, 2024
Suspect Donations and Unidentified Sources of the Ruling Civil Contract's Election Campaign Finances

Suspect Donations and Unidentified Sources of the Ruling Civil Contract's Election Campaign Finances

On a scorching summer day, July 31, 2023, Karine (name changed) strolled through downtown Yerevan in the company of her acquaintance, Gevorg (name changed). Upon reaching the Armeconombank branch on Aram Street, Gevorg asked Karine if she had her ID on her. Upon her affirmative reply, he proposed heading to the bank for a transaction that necessitated an identity card. In a moment of trust, Karine agreed. As they approached the entrance of Armeconombank, Gevorg requested Karine to wait outside, taking her ID card with him as he entered the bank. Shortly after, he reemerged and instructed Karine to go inside, telling her that a man would be there to guide her on the next steps. "I approached that man, the employee gave him a receipt, and he handed it to me to sign. It turned out to be a bank receipt. While signing, I noticed that I was transferring 2.5 million AMD (approximately 6200 USD) to the Civil Contract party," says Karine. After leaving the bank, worried about the transaction she just made, she sought reassurance from Gevorg about potential issues. In response, he advised her to simply claim ignorance if anyone ever questioned the transaction. In reality, Karine unwillingly became one of the donors of the Civil Contract's election campaign on the eve of the 2023 Yerevan Council of Elders elections. Interestingly, she is not alone in finding herself in such a predicament. Throughout this investigation, Infocom examined and identified nearly all individuals who contributed donations exceeding 1 million AMD. Our findings show that the transactions associated with the election campaign of the ruling Civil Contract party are suspicious, with some of the finances having an undisclosed origin. Karine's ID card and signature were exploited to channel funds of unverified origin into the Civil Contract party's account. The timing of this bank transaction on July 31, 2023, aligns with the date of the party's fundraising event for the election campaign. Interestingly, the Civil Contract party did not release a public statement prior to the fundraising event. A few days later, Armen Pambukhchyan, the head of the party's pre-election headquarters and now the first deputy mayor of Yerevan, posted on his Facebook page: "Through contributions from 987 donors, we gathered a total of 506,532,950 AMD.” Nevertheless, the Civil Contract party did not disclose the identities of the "987 donors" throughout the pre-election period, the elections, or immediately afterward. Despite requests from Infocom and several other media outlets seeking a list of donors, the party consistently declined to provide such information. Approximately five months after the elections, on December 22, the party finally shared the names of the donors. Notably, this happened after the Freedom of Information Center of Armenia (FOICA), leveraging Infocom's application, submitted two additional requests of a similar nature to the Civil Contract. Receiving no response, on December 4, they initiated legal action against the party, demanding access to the list. A settlement agreement was subsequently reached between the party and FOICA on January 8, wherein the party committed to providing the information requested in the lawsuit. In contradiction to the figures provided by Armen Pambukhchyan, the donor list forwarded to Infocom comprised contributions amounting to 509,085,950 drams (approximately 1,264,242 USD) from 996 individuals—nine more than the initially disclosed number. — "When I saw the sum, I couldn't get how I could contribute so much with my salary. Then I wondered, if I am not transferring the money now, where will they get this money from?" These were the questions swirling in Karine's mind as we spoke. Seeing her name listed as a donor, she became genuinely distressed, expressing her reluctance to be associated with any political party. Karine worries that this incident might cast a shadow on her reputation. She fears being perceived as naive by her relatives, realizing that placing trust in a friend roped her into a financial fraud and political deals. Karine also crunched the numbers and concluded that with her current salary, she will be able to collect 2.5 million drams within 2.5 years. When asked about her emotions now that she understands she's been deceived, she responded, "I don't feel like a proud citizen. It's disheartening to see those involved in political matters who consistently deceive and prioritize their own gain." She also recalled that after the banking operation, Gevorg made a call and stated, "2 from me, and I expect to get a reward for this." The list of donors to the Civil Contract featured not just Karine's name but also Gevorg and his brother, both contributing 2.5 million AMD each. Karine's situation is not unique. We encountered other individuals on the list of donors who were unaware of the transactions conducted in their name. — The legal maximum donation allowed per person is 2.5 million AMD (approximately 6200 USD). Notably, a significant 87% of the contributions to the Civil Contract party’s election campaign were amassed through transfers exceeding 1 million AMD. Within this category, around 70% of the donations were made by 140 individuals, each contributing the maximum allowable amount of 2.5 million AMD. We examined and identified nearly all individuals who contributed donations exceeding 1 million AMD. After analyzing donations data, we identified three main patterns: Individuals contributing donations ranging from 1 to 2.5 million AMD reside in addresses very close to each other. Individuals affiliated with large business companies have made substantial donations. Prominent contributors include officials, municipal council candidates and current members, and people affiliated with them.   Individuals contributing donations ranging from 1 to 2.5 million AMD reside in addresses close to each other We successfully identified 87% of individuals who contributed 1 million drams or more based on their addresses. Among those identified, 76% are residents of Yerevan. Additionally, significant donations were recorded from the Kotayk region (9.2%), Vayots Dzor region (4%), and Aragatsotn region (4%). During the identification of donors through open data sources, we observed a pattern where some individuals reside in the same or neighboring buildings. This trend is particularly prominent in the administrative district of Nor Nork. For instance, there are four donors from three neighboring buildings on Vilnius Street, and eight donors from three neighboring buildings on Gay and Moldovakan streets, with five of them residing in the same building.  All five individuals residing in the same building contributed 2.5 million AMD each. Notably, among them, Tigran Darbinyan stands out as the former deputy head of the Nor Nork administrative district of Yerevan and a candidate for the Council of Elders of the city.  Infocom visited addresses in Nor Nork and other administrative districts of Yerevan, as well as nearby regions, to meet with individuals who made donations. It's noteworthy that, upon observing the poor living conditions in most of the visited apartments, it was hard to imagine that the residents would have an additional sum of 2.5 million AMD to contribute to the party. The initial reaction of the donors we met was, "Where did we get so much money?" Upon informing them that their names appeared on the list of donors of the Civil Contract party, they recalled some episodes and requested a moment to make a phone call. Following these calls, some donors confidently affirmed that they had indeed made the money transfer. During a visit to one of the apartments, the parents of the donor met us, expressing surprise and stating that their son could not have transferred such a substantial amount of money. Upon our request, the parents contacted their son, who reiterated that he had not made any donations. He added, "Let me ask you another question: if you had that kind of money, would you donate 2.5 million AMD to the Civil Contract party?" In a telephone conversation, another resident of the same street, upon hearing the question, mentioned that he had made a contribution but couldn't recall the amount. When queried about the possibility of having donated 2.5 million AMD, he asked: “What is written on the list.” Upon learning the specified amount, he responded, "Please call me later. I make a lot of transactions, and I can't recall the details at the moment." A resident from one of the addresses in the Nor Nork administrative district, whose name appeared on the list of donors, was currently out of the country. The mother firmly asserted that her son would never donate money to the Civil Contract party. When asked if it was plausible that he might have made a transfer without their knowledge, she responded negatively. The father also confirmed that their son did not make any transfers, suggesting that inquiries about how his son's name ended up on the list should be directed to the Civil Contract party. At one of the addresses in the same administrative district, the donor's mother and wife met us. When they heard the question, they became worried and said that if such a donation had been made, they would have known. At our request, they called the donor, who in a telephone conversation with us said that he was a proxy of the Civil Contract party during the elections, but did not transfer money. He also asked us to wait to clarify something and call back. After a while, he called and said that he had transferred the money, and that we should not write anything about it. "If there is any issue, they will solve it," the donor noted. "Do not take any action, leave it as it is. They told me not to do anything, everything is alright. They assured that they would handle all matters related to responsibilities or any other issues." At a different address in the Nor Nork administrative district, the donor's wife met with us, expressing certainty that they had not made any monetary transfers. She stated, "I handle all our transactions on my behalf; currently, he does not have the right to conduct transactions. There have been no transfers from his name, and it's not possible as his accounts are under arrest, restricting any transactions," she noted. "He is drowning in debts. He is not interested in politics and has no connections with the Civil Contract," she added. One of the donors, who had transferred 2.5 million AMD, initially couldn't recall the subject of our conversation. Upon learning the amount of money involved, he expressed surprise but insisted it was his secret, refusing to disclose any details. Initially claiming he had made the transfer himself, he later mentioned there was some involvement but remained tight-lipped about the specifics. One of the residents of Nor Nork, who also served as a proxy for the Civil Contract party in the Council of Elders elections, stated in an interview with Infocom that he had transferred 1 million AMD. However, the list provided to us indicated 2.5 million AMD under his name. Another proxy of the party from the same administrative district had donated 2.5 million AMD. We attempted to contact him by phone. Upon hearing the question, he promised to call back after making some clarifications, but never called back. The orange dots on the map below represent the addresses of individuals identified by us who donated 1-2.5 million AMD (excluding officials and individuals affiliated with companies). The administrative districts are colored based on the votes received by the Civil Contract party in the Council of Elders elections. Districts colored in dark are the ones where the Civil Contract party received a high number of votes compared to other districts. Individuals affiliated with business companies have made substantial donations Many individuals on the list of those who donated more than 1 million AMD included representatives, employees, shareholders, and directors of business companies. Among the 140 donors who contributed 2.5 million AMD, at least 8 are employed by Yeremyan Projects, a well-known company in the restaurant sector in Armenia.  We have an internal information that the donations were not made from the personal funds of the employees; rather, the company transferred the money using  their names.  Ruben Sukiasyan, the Director of Marketing and Communications at Yeremyan Projects, answering Infocom’s question, said that the organization has no control over people's political views, and they did not give directions to anyone. He clarified, "If the question is whether the amount was transferred by the company or the head of the company, then definitely not; it has nothing to do with the company. If the question is whether some other people pass it on to these individuals [employees of the company-ed.] to donate - perhaps their personal friends, relatives, or others - it's just a coincidence in this regard," Sukiasyan noted. “In a company where 2,500 people work, 8, 10, or 5 of them can always unite around something and implement something over which we have neither control nor the desire to enter into this aspect of people's lives," Sukiasyan added. Incidentally, the majority of individuals affiliated with Yeremyan Projects and united around donations to the Civil Contract hold senior positions within the company. Ashkhen and Vergine Matevosyan, associated with various companies alongside businessman and owner of “Water World”, Khachik Khachatryan, each donated 2.5 million AMD to the Civil Contract party. Vergine Matevosyan and Khachik Khachatryan are shareholders of Villashin LLC. Artur Saroyan, the director of the same company, also contributed 2.5 million AMD to the Civil Contract party. Additionally, Albert Mirzoyan, the director of Villa Market LLC, affiliated with Villashin LLC, made a similar donation of 2.5 million AMD. The maximum allowable donation was made by Vladimir Poghosyan, the Executive Director of Jermuk Group CJSC. The Chief Specialist of Jermuk Municipality responsible for Economic Development, Stepanos Vardanyan, Chief Specialist of the Financial and Economic Department, Smbat Papoyan, Director of the CNPO "Sports and Cultural Center of the Jermuk Community," Gor Tadevosyan, and Acting Director of the CNPO "Communal Services of Jermuk" and Council of Elders member Artush Simonyan all participated in financing the campaign, each donating 2.5 million AMD. The Head of the Jermuk community is Vahagn Arsenyan, the son of the former Executive Director of Jermuk Group CJSC and former MP from the Republican Party, Ashot Arsenyan. According to the State Register of Legal Entities, Vahagn Arsenyan is listed as the real beneficiary of CJSC Jermuk Group.  The shareholders of Zover Construction LLC, involved in the construction of residential, public, and industrial buildings - Vardan Khachatryan, Artak Khachatryan, and Ara Avetisyan - donated 100,000 AMD each to support the Civil Contract party. Vahan Mkrtchyan, a shareholder of Milk  Product LLC, along with Artak and Vardan Khachatryan, contributed 50 thousand AMD. Hakob Hakobyan, the Director of Zover Staff LLC affiliated with Zover Construction, donated 2.5 million AMD. The director of Zover Construction LLC Armen Ghazaryan, made the same donation of 2.5 million AMD. According to the State Register of Legal Entities, Armen Ghazaryan is also the director of another company engaged in the construction of residential, public, and industrial buildings - Magnolia Comfort 2 CJSC. Vahe Meliksetyan, a shareholder of the same company, also donated 2.5 million AMD. Meliksetyan is a former director of Wysiwyg LLC, whose former shareholder Hovhannes Mkrtchyan also made a donation of the same amount. The current shareholder of Wysiwyg, Lilit Mkrtchyan, is registered at the same address together with the shareholder of Zover Construction LLC, Ara Avetisyan. Armen Ghazaryan is also the former director of AGH Ghazaryans LLC. The current director of the company, Gevorg Gharibyan, transferred 2.5 million AMD to raise funds for the Civil Contract party. Gagik Ghazaryan, Director of GAH LLC, and Smbat Navoyan, a former shareholder and director of the same company, donated to the Civil Contract in the maximum allowable amount. Minas Malkhasyan, a shareholder and director of the Malkhasyants Law Center, along with employee Grigor Malkhasyan, contributed 2.4 million AMD each to the Civil Contract party. Additionally, another staff member of the Center, Koryun Mkrtchyan, showed his support with a significant donation of 2.3 million AMD. Notably, Deputy Director of the Law Center Nazik Malkhasyan donated 100 thousand AMD. It's worth mentioning that Minas Malkhasyan, Nazik Malkhasyan, and Grigor Malkhasyan are the children of Judge Gurgen Malkhasyan. Interestingly, Judge Gurgen Malkhasyan was nominated as a candidate for a judge of the Court of Cassation approximately a month after the elections to the Council of Elders, although he was not ultimately elected. Zorik Sargsyan, a former shareholder of Rapid Reaction Guard LLC, involved in private security activities, and Avetis Arakelyan, a current shareholder of the same company, each made contributions of 2.5 million AMD to the Civil Contract. An equal sum was contributed by Karen Movsesyan, a shareholder of GMK Partners LLC specializing in accounting, and Karen Grigoryan, the director of the same company. The shareholder and director of Stroy Master Mikhail LLC, involved in construction, Ivan Minasuyev, along with former shareholder Mikhail Minasuyev and their brother Nikolay Minasuyev, each contributed 2.5 million AMD to support the Civil Contract party. When questioned about his donation, Mikhail Minasuyev initially claimed not to remember, citing numerous donations he makes. He requested to see the list sent by the Civil Contract party and, without confirming or denying the donation, stated, "We did something, I don't remember." Some companies affiliated with donors actively participated in public procurement.    Prominent contributors include public officials and their affiliates  The first Deputy Mayor of Yerevan, Armen Pambukhchyan, who also served as the head of the party's election headquarters during the pre-election period, held the position of Minister of Emergency Situations until June 30, 2023. Leading up to the elections to the Council of Elders, former employees of the Ministry of Emergency Situations, namely Vazgen Simonyan, Vahe Harutyunyan, Aram Semirjyan, Hovik Khachoyan, and Gegham Brsoyan, each made contributions of 2.5 million AMD to the Civil Contract party. Notably, Gegham Brsoyan was also a candidate for the Council of Elders from the Civil Contract party. Armen Sargsyan, a former advisor to Armen Pambukhchyan until the dissolution of the Ministry of Emergency Situations, lately appointed deputy head of the Nor Nork administrative district, made a donation of 2.5 million AMD. According to the State Register of Legal Entities, Armen Sargsyan is a shareholder of Inter Trans LLC, a transportation company. The director of the same company, Karine Harutyunyan, also contributed another 2.5 million AMD. The donation in the maximum allowable amount was made by Harutyun Balyan, who is in close relations with Armen Pambukhchyan and Armen Sargsyan. There are several officials on the list of those who donated more than 1 million AMD. Vigen Chilingaryan, Advisor to the Director of the "Hayantar" State Non-Profit Organization, made a contribution of 2.5 million AMD to the Civil Contract party. The acting director of "Zinar" CJSC of the Ministry of Defense, Arshak Ordukhanyan, who previously served as an adviser to Suren Papikyan when he was Deputy Prime Minister, made a donation of 1.5 million AMD. Arshak Ordukhanyan was also a candidate for the Council of Elders. The Head of Market Surveillance Inspection Body, Armen Kotolyan, who was also a candidate for the Council of Elders, donated 1 million AMD to the Civil Contract party. Syuzanna Sayadyan, a member of the Council of Elders of the Artashat community, contributed 2.5 million AMD. Interestingly, according to the annual declaration of income for 2022, her income for that year amounted to 702,975 AMD. This income was received from the Civil Contract party as a salary. By the way, the Honorary Consul of Spain in Armenia, Armine Adamyan, also made a donation of 2 million AMD to the election campaign of the Civil Contract party. Employees of the Yerevan Municipality, including the Head of the Urban Development and Land Inspection Department, Yakov Asatryan, and the Director of the CNPO "Special Services for the Population," Hrachya Nazaryan, made a donation of 2.5 million AMD each to the Civil Contract party. Additionally, the head of the Trade and Services Department, Hovik Safaryan, contributed 100 thousand AMD to the party. The Mayor of Yerevan Tigran Avinyan did not make donations; however, his father, Armen Avinyan, made a contribution of 2 million AMD. Tigran Galjyan, the brother of Armen Galjyan, the head of the "Civil Contract" faction of the Council of Elders of Yerevan, donated 2.3 million AMD. Lusine Gevorgyan, a member of the Council of Elders of Yerevan, made a donation of 2.5 million AMD. Another member of the Council of Elders of Yerevan, Narek Manukyan, who is the Director of the National Center of Oncology, contributed 1 million AMD. The heads of administrative districts made transfers ranging from 200,000 to 1.7 million AMD. The head of the Achapnyak administrative district, Kamsar Babinyan, the head of the Avan administrative district, Vahe Hakobyan, the head of the Arabkir administrative district, Aram Azatyan, and the head of the Kentron administrative district, Samvel Ghukasyan, each transferred 200 thousand AMD. The head of the Nork-Marash administrative district, Mikayel Ohanyan, contributed 400 thousand AMD, the head of the Nubarashen administrative district, Andranik Gasparyan, donated 550 thousand drams, the head of the Shengavit administrative district, Razmik Mkrtchyan, made a transfer of 300 thousand AMD, and the head of the Kanaker-Zeytun administrative district, Artak Hovakimyan, transferred 1.7 million AMD. The office of the head of the Nor Nork administrative district stood out with generous transfers. The head of the Income accounting and collection division, Gevorg Baghdasaryan, and the head of the Urban development and land use division, Levon Shahnazaryan, both made donations of 2.5 million AMD each. When we sought clarification from Gevorg Baghdasaryan about his money transfer and its source, he initially stated he would call back later. Upon a follow-up call, he expressed frustration and requested not to be contacted regarding this issue again. The head of the Trade, services and advertising division of the Nor Nork administrative district, Sargis Nazaryan, contributed 2.4 million AMD to the Civil Contract party. Nazaryan served as a proxy of the Civil Contract party during the Council of Elders elections. Additionally, the former head of the Urban development and land use division in the same administrative region, Gagik Abajyan, made a donation of 2.3 million AMD. Among the donors contributing to the fundraising efforts, there are 88 candidates from the Civil Contract party for the Council of Elders. Their donations vary, ranging from 20,000 to 2.5 million AMD. --- A comparison of the facts and a thorough analysis of the data reveal that the financing source for a portion of the Civil Contract party's election campaign is, at the very least, of unknown origin. The research findings lead to the conclusion that an organized mechanism was employed to channel funds into financing the election campaign of the Civil Contract party. This mechanism involved associating sums with the names of individuals who were often unaware of the process. As per the law on parties, campaign donations must be exclusively transferred through non-cash methods. This provision in the law aims to ensure transparency and traceability of the origin of the transferred donations. Infocom inquired about how the Civil Contract party ensured cashless transfers of donations during the fundraising evening. In response, it was stated, "Armeconombank employees were involved in organizing the collection of donations ensuring the electronic transfer of the funds to the party's account. The accounts of the Civil Contract party are serviced by Armeconombank," the response mentioned. Employees of Armeconombank were actively involved in facilitating transfers for the party's donors not only during the fundraising evening but also outside of it. It is noteworthy that one of the shareholders of Armeconombank is Khachatur Sukiasyan, a deputy of the parliamentary faction "Civil Contract." Sukiasyan and his brothers hold key supervisory positions within the bank. — On January 29, we reached out to Vahagn Aleksanyan, the Deputy Chairman of the Board of the Civil Contract party. We shared our encounters with individuals on the list of party donors who claimed not to have made any donations. Initially, Aleksanyan requested the names of these individuals to investigate further. When we declined to disclose the source, he suggested that perhaps we had not identified the correct individuals.  In response to our observation that donations were made on behalf of individuals living in the same or nearby buildings, Vahagn Aleksanyan remarked, "I can't say. Perhaps the donations of several people were just registered in the name of one person by the bank's employees to save time. I don't rule that out either." In response to a clarifying question about whether donations to the Civil Contract election campaign were collected only during the fundraising event on July 31, Aleksanyan replied, "No, because there were cases when party members of the territorial offices gathered their donations and sent them with one person. This also happened." Upon further clarification about whether the fundraising donations were eventually made during the evening, Aleksanyan confirmed, "Yes." However, he added that there were some inaccuracies, and in some cases, there was a need to go to the bank the next day. When asked about the nature of the inaccuracies, Aleksanyan requested a written inquiry. In the hope of getting more information, we agreed with Vahagn Aleksanyan that we would send our questions in writing form and await a response by January 30, 17:00. Unfortunately, we did not receive any response from the Civil Contract party by the appointed time.   The legality of the financing of the election campaign in the Council of Elders' elections can be determined by the state 8 months after the election Political parties are required to submit their annual reports to the Corruption Prevention Commission (CPC) by May 31 of the next reporting year, according to the law on parties. The CPC oversees the financial activities of the party by comparing the submitted report with information obtained from other sources, including bank details, to verify the accuracy of the annual report.  Earlier, Infocom wrote about the supervisory function of the Corruption Prevention Commission (CPC) and the Central Electoral Commission (CEC) asking whether the refusal to publish the list of donors during the pre-election period affects the transparency of the electoral process.  At that time, the chairman of the Central Election Commission, former MP of the "Civil Contract" Vahagn Hovakimyan, referring to this concern, said: “You desire that the act of publication, the disclosure of information related to any political party, influences the election results of that party. You treat political parties as potential criminals.” Hovakimyan also emphasized in our interview that if the journalists' objective is to guarantee a transparent process, the timing of studying the list of donors, whether during the elections or approximately 8 months post their conclusion, should not significantly impact their pursuit of transparency. Approximately four months after the conclusion of the Council of Elders elections, it has come to light that the Civil Contract party’s election campaign was financed from obscure origins through dubious transactions. Author - Lucy Manvelyan Hayarpi Baghdasaryan, Julietta Hovhannisyan, and Roman Abovyan contributed to the investigation Editors - Ani Hovhannisyan, Sevak Mamyan
12:53 - 05 February, 2024
The video about an Azerbaijani walking in Yerevan is outdated, there is no evidence that it was filmed by an Azerbaijani

The video about an Azerbaijani walking in Yerevan is outdated, there is no evidence that it was filmed by an Azerbaijani

The video circulated on the Internet today, purportedly shot by an Azerbaijani, Telman Qasimov, casually strolling through the yard of an apartment building at Komitas 5A in Yerevan, is outdated.  In an interview with the Azerbaijani media outlet 'Minval,' Telman Qasimov stated that he was born and resided at the address Komitas 5A for 17 years. After relocating to Azerbaijan in 1988, he revisited the location 35 years later, capturing footage of the yard and apartment. According to his Facebook profile, he was born in 1971. According to his interview, he left Yerevan in 1988 and returned to document it 35 years later, that is, this year.  Infocom visited Komitas 5A in Yerevan and compared the surroundings with the video footage. We are releasing photos that clearly demonstrate the disparity between the content of the video and the present-day appearance of the yard and the building. The footage reveals several alterations: the entrance door to the building has been replaced, the balcony on the second floor underwent reconstruction, the water fountain featured in the video has been removed, and the garage doors received a fresh coat of paint. According to the building's residents, the water fountain in video was removed this summer, specifically in August.  The building's residents have pointed out that the replacement of the front door and the renovation of the balcony took place approximately two years ago. This suggests that the video was filmed at least two years prior to the current date. However, Telman Qasimov, in his interview, creates the impression that the video was recorded after the forced deportation of the Artsakh people on September 25, 2023. He specifically emphasizes, 'Imagine that, even now, not all displaced persons from Karabakh have been accommodated and provided with housing. Many of them still continue to sleep in cars. These people are wandering the streets doing nothing. During my time there, I witnessed this. And while I was there, they turned off the electricity twice.' Telman Qasimov is not discernible in the video. The video has been edited. Specifically, segments where the videographer's reflection could potentially be seen on car windows have been removed. The claim that Qasimov personally filmed the video lacks confirmation, as both the speaker's voice and the video could have been edited and synchronized seamlessly. Did an Azerbaijani live in the Komitas 5A building? Building residents recall that until the 1990s, an Azerbaijani named Telman, resided in their building. His mother's name was Zemfira, referred to as 'Zemfir xala' (Aunt Zemfir).  The building's fifth floor, where the Azerbaijani claims his residence used to be, consists of three apartments. In the video, the speaker mentions names such as Lida and Rosa, identifying them as former neighbors. Specifically, he points to the apartment on the left side of the floor as his own. The current occupant, interviewed by Infocom, states that she has resided there for a long time and learned from neighbors that an Azerbaijani lived there in the 1980s, subsequently selling the property to an Armenian. Another neighbor adds that the Azerbaijani resident left in 1988-89, engaging in a house exchange with an Armenian in Baku. It is important to note that Telman Qasimov is identified as one of the leaders of the 'environmental activists' who blocked the Lachin corridor. According to information released by the Tatoyan Foundation, Qasimov is alleged to be a military officer with a strong aversion to Armenians and serves in a special military intelligence unit. Evidence surfaced on his social media accounts, displaying connections with the extremist nationalist group 'Gray Wolves,' known for its terrorist activities. Qasimov has also shared a photograph featuring Ramil Safarov, the individual responsible for the brutal murder of Armenian officer Gurgen Margaryan while he was asleep, wielding an axe. Update: As of December 6, the National Security Service of the Republic of Armenia has released a statement revealing that Telman Qasimov obtained the mentioned video in November 2017 from a dual citizen identified as 'A. K.,' who originally recorded footage of the building where Qasimov claimed to be 'born and raised.' The NSS asserts that Qasimov appended his voice to the video through editing, six years after its initial recording." Hayarpi Baghdasaryan
20:33 - 05 December, 2023
"Mom, call Vardan": Goris Welcomes Displaced Nagorno-Karabakh Residents

"Mom, call Vardan": Goris Welcomes Displaced Nagorno-Karabakh Residents

As we traversed Vayots Dzor, traffic thickened, and the presence of ambulances and trucks hinted at our approach to Goris. Strolling through rain-formed puddles, we arrived at the building that, just a week ago, had been the drama theater. There is a big blue bus in front of the building. Agony and fatigue emanate from the faces of the people visible through the window. In my mind, I find solace in the barrier before me, grateful that it shields me from getting closer to the weariness etched on people's faces. A child, around four years old, nibbling on a piece of bread, emerges from the building and is on the verge of crossing paths with volunteers bearing food. "The taxi has arrived. Are all of you ready?" A Red Cross staff member escorts a family of eight, engaging in playful banter with the children and bidding farewell like a caring relative as they board the vehicle... "Move back, make way for this car!" the policeman shouts, using a commanding hand gesture to guide people and clear the path. A two-year-old child in a red coat wanders around. "Is she by herself?" People exchange glances. As we attempt to find our bearings, a mother, cradling another baby in her arms, guides the little one by the hand, and they pass through the barrier. An elderly woman stumbles and ends up in a puddle up to her ankles. I wonder if she has an extra pair of shoes; she was wearing slippers. While I stand on the sidewalk, trying to absorb my initial impressions, my attention is captivated by a 5-6-year-old girl in a red hoodie, standing in front of a White Ford. The family of Gohar is from the village of Haterk, Martakert. "On September 20th, accompanied by our relatives, a group of 25 people, we embarked on a journey to the airport. We spent five days there, and then they [the peacekeeprs] helped us to cross the Hakari Bridge," recounted Ruzanna, Gohar's mother. She mentioned that they had cattle and were able to slaughter some for meat and take with them. That's how they lived until they reached Kornidzor. When I inquired about their reception at the airport, she appeared surprised and asked, 'Who, the Russians? It is an open field, we went there by car, slept in the car, lived by ourselves'. According to her, five soldiers were killed in the village. "There is still a 19-year-old child who couldn't be brought out. He has four sisters. As we were departing the village in our cars, the mother of the deceased kept glancing back, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of him following us. She can't believe that her son died." Tears welling in her eyes, Ruzanna adds, "She's still waiting for him to come." One of her family members also passed away, her husband's cousin, a young 19-year-old soldier. She explains that they are making efforts to transport the body to Armenia with the assistance of the Red Cross. They are waiting for other family members to join them to go to Yerevan. And what's next? "Then I will go to Pyatigorsk, my daughter is there. And then in the end people will leave Armenia as well as they left Artsakh." Ruzanna with Gohar I approach the girl who stands alone under a wall and ask, "Who are you with?" Babo (grandmother). While I'm attempting to identify Nare's grandmother, I notice a woman on the right side of us, diligently trying to corral the kids who are enthusiastically chasing a stray dog. Gohar's family loses their home for the second time. They fled from Shush to Stepanakert in 2020, now Goris, then... "probably Russia, we have family there." Aren, Alen and Nare In front of the Goris Hotel, men smoke anxiously. They don't talk to each other, don't talk to strangers. The hotel corridor bustles with activity. A child is gleefully bouncing on a sofa, savoring chocolate with all ten fingers. The man pulls fruits, sweets, and juices from the bag, sharing them with both children and parents waiting in line. The girl with short, curly hair can barely contain the aid packages she's received in her small hands. "Could you please give me a bag?" she requests, turning to me with a warm smile. "I'm Larisa," she introduces herself, then introduces her brother. "And this is Artyom." Larisa's family emigrated from Yeghtsahogh, although Larisa herself proudly notes that she is from Shushi. "She was born in the maternity hospital of Shushi," her mother corrects. Yeghtsahogh is now completely empty. "On the 20th, at one o'clock in the morning, we took the children out, brought to the Russian post. Our village was completely evacuated, including the neighboring villages -Hin Shen and Mets Shen. We didn't take anything with us – no clothes or anything. The head of the village gave a car to evacuate people. We went out, the Turks followed us into the village," she says. At the Russian checkpoint, according to Susan, residents of three villages were accommodated and provided with food, and then escorted to Kornidzor. At the checkpoint, they did not pass inspection, they did not leave the cars, only passports were checked.Susan with Larisa and Artyom. Susan's family has no relatives, neither in Goris nor in Yerevan. She mentiones that she can't live in the city. She's uncertain about the next destination, but she's determined not to go to Russia. "I want to settle in a village, secure a job, and raise my children." A man from the side interjects, "Wouldn't you consider living in Meghri? I invite you." "Meghri? Isn't that close to the Turks?" she questions. "It is. What if I relocate there and they launch another attack?" The hotel corridor is gradually emptying out. Video footage of the fire at the Stepanakert fuel depot has already been released. On the sofa, a woman cries out with longing and repeats once more, "Mom, I'm calling, he's not answering, please call Vardan." I quietly leave the hotel. Time outside has stopped. Men are desperately smoking, as if in the same position as an hour ago. My ears are still ringing. "Mom, call Vardan". Victoria Andreasyan Photos by Anthony Pizzoferrato
12:58 - 26 September, 2023
Endless nights and uncertain waiting: Arsakh citizens at the base in Goris

Endless nights and uncertain waiting: Arsakh citizens at the base in Goris

The road from Yerevan to Gori is unusually quiet, especially for us journalists, who always find a topic to "make noise". Now that noise has only one name - Artsakhtsi (Artsakh Armenian), and one address -  Artsakh, but words have no meaning, they are not enough. The intelligible silence is broken by the incomprehensible news coming from official sources every now and then, and the hymns of Sargis, our cameraman, become more heartbreaking with each subsequent news. - Lord, have mercy! Lord, have mercy!... he sings something that we had to repeat a lot in Goris. In Goris, there is the gathering station, where the people of Artsakh who were displaced from their homeland to Armenia and registered in Kornidzor, come. They come endlessly, one after another, like the snow that starts suddenly when the flakes fall quickly, get down to the ground, and barely rise. Now those flakes fall down on our hearts and become stones. They fall down and become heavy forever.    The base of Goris is crowded, and frankly speaking, there is not even enough place to shed a tear. Cold-hearted, we work, photographing people who seem to have put decades of life in a suitcase, packed everything they had wrapped it in cars, rushing here and there, getting on a bus, and hearing the vague voice of one of the organizers. - People going to Gegharkunik, get off quickly, you will go by another bus. - Who was going to Vayk? Get on the bus! People get off, people get on, and the buses take them to their new addresses. People come down, people wait, and who knows how people don't go crazy... *** I notice a girl standing alone in the uncertain waiting. I approach and ask, are you from Artsakh? She firmly says yes. I ask if she'll agree to speak a few words. She agrees to talk but without cameras. 22-year-old Amalya Arushanyan is a linguist from Haterk village, Martakert region. I apologize for the painful questions and ask her to remember September 19, the day of the last attack of Azerbaijan. - Would you like me to be as honest as possible? As a citizen of Artsakh, now it is not difficult for me to recall all that because it has already become normal, - says Amalya, and tears are falling from her eyes, - No, I lied, it is difficult. At the time of the attack, Amalya was at her workplace, at school, and the students told her the news that the enemy had attacked the neighboring villages, but Amalya didn't believe it, she thought it was just another thing that would pass. Then, when the voices reached them, there was nothing left but to go down to the shelter of the school. "Then our relatives came and took us home, whoever they could, they took them... Then the day came when there were more shootings. My little sister was in a very bad condition, she had health problems... Then night came, during the night the sky was not black at all, it was red because they had organized all this in a very professional way, they were coming from all directions, and our army was in a very bad, disorganized state... Then once the plane hit, we didn't sleep at all that night, there was no communication, and we couldn't find out about our brothers who were on the frontline... All of us were scared and entered the shelter, it was not safe there, nowhere was safe. The morning light  never came for us that night, it stayed dark like that." *** Amalya says the next day, when it was officially reported that an agreement was reached to stop the fire at 13:00 with the mediation of the Russian peacekeeping troops, it did not stop.  "It was after the so-called "ceasefire"  that I lost my brother, whom we forcefully brought here to take with us so that his grave does not remain there," she says, holding back the tears. - Lord, have mercy! Lord, have mercy! *** The day after the attack, Amalya was transferred to Stepanakert. I asked if she was with her whole family. "With all my relatives," she answered. "We went to the airport, where the Russian base is located, thinking that we were close to the Russians there, there would be no attack, but the military base is near the Askeran regiment, they were also attacking the Askeran military unit there, we were still afraid, but already kind of indifferent. it was fear without emotion, we had already got used to it, do you get it?" she says, looking at me with eyes as green as the mountains of Artsakh and filled with water. And I don't know where to look when everywhere you turn, it's the same tragedy. The family stayed at the airport for 2 or 3 days, Amalya says it seemed like a long time, but she doesn't remember clearly. "There was constant news that it's over or that someone was slaughtered in the village, that azeris have entered, put up the flag... You know, that desperate situation where you can't get in touch with anyone... It was only in the area of the military base that there was a connection, thanks to the Russians. There was no light at all in Stepanakert... That uncertain situation was generating both truth and lies." The next day, when the fire really stopped, the Arushanians decided not to return to the village. "No one wanted to go back, enter Haterk, or stay in the territory of Artsakh, because that is suicide or voluntary slavery," she says. "It was very common for us at the checkpoint, we saw both Turks, Russians, and Armenians. They didn't thoroughly and deeply examine the car. As far as I know, they didn't look at the documents. They opened the door and looked, and that's it. Maybe there was actually a device there. I don't know if he was checking," Amalya says, adding that she heard that the group is thoroughly checked when a weapon is found with one of the people. The family barely took food, clothes, and beds with them, but there are people, says Amalya, who didn't make it or didn't want to. "For example, my grandmother, an elderly woman, has seen a lot in her life. She said: "Why am I taking it, what should I do? Last time, during the 44-day period, I took my clothes and shoes, what happened?" Amalya says, in any case, she doesn't remember her home in a sad way . She remembers it with pain, but not in a sad way. She remembers it beautifully and with love. "So far, we have been in the blockade for 274 days, which has brought many difficulties, and all this has not allowed us to accumulate or create happy moments, but I don't remember being sad in our house, I even took pictures of our house when I went out, our yard, our cars, because we left a lot of things there." I asked if they have closed the door, and she says that her father did not let them, so that when the enemy comes, they don't break it or do damage.  "But if you think very deeply, my father is a 50-year-old man, he gave his whole life to build a house for us, now he has left everything behind and will have to start again, and it's not even from scratch, I don't even what I should call it." I asked if they have any problems at the moment that need to be solved urgently, and she said "Yes", adding that they know the solution to the problems, but there's only one problem, the solution of which is not in their hands because Artsakh no longer exists.  "With God's will, I don't know how powerful the Armenian army will be to be able to take back all that, but we will be so strong and conscious... We don't love our nation, we have to love ourselves to be able to win, we have to put our hope in ourselves to be able to win, and it's not the Russians who keep us, nor the Americans, we are the ones who keep us, and I'm sure it will be in 50 or 60 years, if RA is smart, we will definitely take everything back: the Shushi tank, the "We are our mountains" statue, the Karvachar mountains, our church, and our crosses, which were placed in every village. Everything," says Amalya, assuring us that we did not lose either this battle or the 44-day battle, our boys fought until the end. Amalya does not talk about the future, she says that it is up to her father to decide. Before that, she had planned to open a language center in the village, and she was about to do it, but now she's on the Goris-Vayk road, waiting to be transferred there. Until then, they will have to wait for long, as the International Committee of the Red Cross brings her brother's body.   Milena Khachikyan
11:58 - 26 September, 2023
Science against Viruses: A Look Inside the Laboratory of Antiviral Drug Discovery

Science against Viruses: A Look Inside the Laboratory of Antiviral Drug Discovery

As a biology student, Hovakim Zakaryan developed an interest in stem cells; these are undifferentiated cells with a unique ability to differentiate into a variety of specialized cell types. In the early 2000s, he faced challenges in locating any groups or laboratories dedicated to stem cell research within Armenia's scientific institutions. He eventually discovered a lab at the Institute of Molecular Biology of the National Academy of Sciences of Armenia, which was researching regular cells and viruses. Hovakim developed an interest in viruses while he was working at that lab. His experience studying viruses at the Institute of Molecular and Clinical Virology in Germany and the Centre for Molecular Biology Severo Ochoa in Spain led to a greater interest in this field of study. Upon his return to Armenia, Hovakim established the Research Group of Antiviral Defense Mechanisms at the Institute of Molecular Biology, where he and his colleagues began researching the antiviral properties of novel chemical compounds. The research group consisted of three members at the time it was formed. They were looking for antiviral drug candidates against African swine fever virus․ The team expanded over time. In 2020, it achieved the status of a laboratory and was renamed the Laboratory of Antiviral Drug Discovery. The team now consists of eight members, from undergraduates to Ph.Ds. Let's explore the Laboratory of Antiviral Drug Discovery; read the article here. Author: Anna Sahakyan, Video by Roman Abovyan, Photos by Roman Abovyan, Sargis Kharazyan, and Julietta Hovhannisyan  
23:17 - 05 September, 2023
"I don't want my children to starve, to be subjected to genocide, I want to live in Artsakh, to build our Homeland" [Blockade from the inside]

"I don't want my children to starve, to be subjected to genocide, I want to live in Artsakh, to build our Homeland" [Blockade from the inside]

Liana Voskanyan, a mother of six, residing in Stepanakert, must juggle multiple jobs to meet their needs. Amidst the blockade, it becomes exceptionally challenging. Due to the closure of the road connecting Artsakh with Armenia, the father of Liana's children, is in Yerevan and unable to join the family. Liana shoulders the responsibility of caring for her children: three boys aged 15, 11, and 9, two girls aged 13 and 3, along with a six-month-old newborn named Avetis, all on her own. Tragically, her mother passed away during the 44-day war, and Liana has lost contact with her mother-in-law. Despite her mother-in-law's disapproval of her sixth child's birth, Liana resolved to bring the boy into the world. "I hold deep affection for our Homeland, and we've endured numerous sacrifices for its sake. I'm driven by the desire to contribute to my nation, and that's why I chose to welcome another boy into the world," expresses Liana. The children's father mentioned that upon his arrival in Artsakh, he intends to relocate the family to Yerevan. However, Liana does not share the same sentiment. "We won't be leaving Artsakh," she firmly declares. Liana with her children   Liana, an actress with 28 years of service at the Stepanakert Drama Theater named after V. Papazyan, now also works at a bakery and provides makeup services in order to meet her financial needs. The cost of living in Artsakh is high. "I'm currently employed at a bakery, baking lavash just to ensure we have enough money for basic necessities. Grocery stores are almost devoid of essential items; they mainly offer products like cognac, vodka, vinegar, and perhaps lighters. Occasionally, there might be fruits and vegetables available, but their prices are exorbitant. It's a hit or miss situation – sometimes I can afford to buy them, while other times it's simply not feasible. We didn't have oil or washing powder at home for two days. While food is a vital concern, lifestyle factors are equally significant. Maintaining cleanliness for the children is crucial in warding off numerous illnesses. Unfortunately, there's a scarcity of basic items like soap, dishwashing liquid, laundry detergent, and even toilet paper. It's probably simpler to list what is available for purchase than what isn't," Liana notes. Currently, her employment at the bakery allows her to purchase two days' worth of bread. However, as per her observations, many people find it challenging to endure the queues. Some experience deteriorating health conditions, even fainting. Some request to hold their place in line as they step aside to eat something, returning to avoid worsening their condition. Some even leave money to secure their spot, ensuring they don't miss out on obtaining bread. At present, locating fruits and vegetables in the markets has become a daunting task. Finding even one or two kg of tomatoes or cucumbers is increasingly unlikely. In contrast to the previous year, the price of a kg of meat has doubled, reaching 7000-7500 drams.  Currently, there is a complete absence of public transport in Artsakh, and fuel is also unavailable. Like everyone else, Liana commutes to work on foot every day. In the presence of larger vehicles, people are hesitant to board due to the overwhelming overcrowding, making the idea of commuting in such conditions possible. When power outages occur during the day, Liana rushes back home to ensure she has sufficient time to feed her children, prepare meals, attend to laundry, and subsequently returns to work.  Despite all these challenges, Liana remains resilient and hopeful. "I hold a strong belief that Armenians residing in Armenia will unite and take a stand, enabling us to overcome obstacles together. Amidst the recent surge of animosity and division, this could potentially serve as a significant test for us to introspect and regain our unity. I don't want my children to starve, to be subjected to genocide here, I want to live in Artsakh, to build our Homeland. Despite the viewpoint of some Armenians that regards Artsakh as part of Azerbaijan, it's essential to recall that Artsakh was once a province of Greater Armenia. The less we remember our history, the more we stand to lose." Since December 12, 2022, Azerbaijan has closed the only road connecting Artsakh to Armenia, the Lachin Corridor. On April 23, 2023,  the Azerbaijani side closed the Hakari bridge on the Artsakh-Armenia border, which was in the area of responsibility of the Russian peacekeeping troops in the Lachin corridor, thus deepening the humanitarian crisis. An Azerbaijani checkpoint was installed on the Hakari bridge. Since June 15 of this year, Azerbaijan has banned all humanitarian transportation through the Lachin Corridor. After that, the ICRC was only able to transport patients to Armenia a few times. On July 29, Azerbaijan kidnapped a 68-year-old citizen from the ICRC-mediated patient who was transferred to Armenia from the checkpoint near the Hakari bridge and took him to an unknown place. On August 1, Azerbaijani servicemen kidnapped another citizen who tried to go to Armenia on foot from the village of Hin Shen in Artsakh, his whereabouts are also unknown. Artsakh has almost completely run out of essential products and medicine. Coupons intended for buying food months ago are now useless because the stores are empty. People go out only to get bread. Artsakh has run out of fuel, public transport does not work at all, and private cars rarely move. The gas supply is regularly interrupted, and electricity is cut off. In Artsakh, 120 thousand people, including 30 thousand children, are under total blockade. Photos are from Liana Voskanyan's archive Hayarpi Baghdasaryan
16:20 - 10 August, 2023
"It's truly unbearable to be captive on your own land; everyone wants to live, yet the possibility of life is uncertain" [Blockade From The Inside]

"It's truly unbearable to be captive on your own land; everyone wants to live, yet the possibility of life is uncertain" [Blockade From The Inside]

"The word "blockade" encapsulates the most challenging aspect of this situation. It's an immensely challenging feeling when profound reflection leads you to realize that you're held hostage within your own home," Ani Lazaryan,17, from the village of Vank, Martakert region, Artsakh describes her feelings. I've spoken with many people about the daily hardships and the inhumane conditions under the blockade in Artsakh. Ani, in fact, can not share anything new, so our conversation revolves more around the people and her psychological state. She conveys that the feeling of being captive on your own land is simply unbearable, yet at the same time, it's a reality that's difficult to accept. Ani is an aspiring translator and a member of the Artsakh Youth Union of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation "Dashnaktsutyun". She is currently in her senior year and spends most of her time at home. She has had to postpone her classes because public transport is not functioning, and there is a lack of fuel to travel to Stepanakert. My interlocutor, who appears to be quite sensitive, has also authored a book about the war titled "Them." The blockade, of course, brings about inconvenience in the most essential aspects of life, but the most intolerable aspect for Ani is to do nothing. "What should be done?" I ask. "If we are talking about the population of Artsakh, then we are literally shackled, probably powerless to do anything now. In Artsakh, every resident now sleeps and awakens with the sole purpose of queuing up again tomorrow. In general, I have thought a lot about this question and, I have always hesitated to give a clear answer. From my perspective, the collective endeavor in this matter is very great, and every individual can contribute to our nation through their efforts. Regrettably, such assistance is currently lacking. People's behavior is vastly different when they have plenty, and even more distinct when they have nothing." Ani emphasizes that the blockade is truly devastating, as everyone desires to live, yet the possibility of life itself is uncertain. "Countless queues stretch ahead, with the number of people impossible to tally. Amidst these lines, we stand, awaiting our turn, carrying the hope that our path to brighter days will soon unfold. Living in the village is somewhat manageable, but it's even tougher for those in the city who struggle to maintain a decent lifestyle," Ani says adding that she has never joined the queues, partly because she felt she might get lost in the crowd. "The line of people stretched from the city's beginning to its very end."   bread queue Ani recalls a poignant and bittersweet moment she witnessed while waiting for a friend one day: two elderly people were walking hand in hand to purchase fruit. However, by the time they crossed the street and reached the store, all the fruit had already been sold out. "With fruit in short supply, just a single apple remained. The seller gave it away the elderly people. Leaving the store with a mix of desperation and fleeting smiles, they exchanged a glance and sighed. Yet, their smiles returned, perhaps because they still held onto that single apple... it left a profound impact."  The First Karabakh war, the April war, the 44-day war... without even having time to heal from these wounds, now comes the blockade. "Is it destiny, or is it simply a game being played with us?" Ani asks. "When my peers and I were thinking about studying abroad and building a bright future, now we are thinking about how to somehow survive. It's a struggle for survival. Living in Artsakh and fighting for life despite the blockade is a testament to courage. Please, let's not be indifferent; let's ensure the world doesn't erase us from the face of the earth..." Since December 12, 2022, Azerbaijan has closed the only road connecting Artsakh to Armenia, the Lachin Corridor. On April 23, 2023,  the Azerbaijani side closed the Hakari bridge on the Artsakh-Armenia border, which was in the area of responsibility of the Russian peacekeeping troops in the Lachin corridor, thus deepening the humanitarian crisis. An Azerbaijani checkpoint was installed on the Hakari bridge. Since June 15 of this year, Azerbaijan has banned all humanitarian transportation through the Lachin Corridor. After that, the ICRC was only able to transport patients to Armenia a few times. On July 29, Azerbaijan kidnapped a 68-year-old citizen from the ICRC-mediated patient who was transferred to Armenia from the checkpoint near the Hakari bridge and took him to an unknown place. On August 1, Azerbaijani servicemen kidnapped another citizen who tried to go to Armenia on foot from the village of Hin Shen in Artsakh, his whereabouts are also unknown. Artsakh has almost completely run out of essential products and medicine. Coupons intended for buying food months ago are now useless because the stores are empty. People go out only to get bread. Artsakh has run out of fuel, public transport does not work at all, and private cars rarely move. The gas supply is regularly interrupted, and electricity is cut off. In Artsakh, 120 thousand people, including 30 thousand children, are under total blockade. Photos are from Ani Lazaryan's archive Hayarpi Baghdasaryan
13:48 - 08 August, 2023
A mother of five from Artsakh prepares sweets using the last remaining ingredients at home and shares them with neighboring children. [Blockade from the inside]

A mother of five from Artsakh prepares sweets using the last remaining ingredients at home and shares them with neighboring children. [Blockade from the inside]

For so many days I have been conveying the story of the blockade to the readers through the voices of our fellow Artsakh residents, repeatedly emphasizing that there is no food, no electricity, no gas, no water at times, no fruits, no vegetables, no medicines, no transportation, no childhood, all due to the closure of the only lifeline that connects Artsakh to Armenia for over seven months by Azerbaijan. Under these conditions, those who have managed to save something are nearly depleting their reserves and those who still possess something are attempting to share it with their fellow compatriots. Lusine Sahakyan from Stepanakert, a mother of five, is cooking sweets and sugar cubes using the remaining sugar at her home. She then distributes these treats to the children in her neighborhood and her neighbors. At one point, Lusine had a small confectionery production. However, she temporarily paused it when her children were born. During the blockade, when the road was not completely closed yet, she managed to buy supplies again to resume her confectionery efforts. Until June, she could still manage to cook, but since June 15th, no products have entered Artsakh from Armenia at all. Lusine made the decision to conserve some of her supplies: a small amount of sugar, a bit of flour, a little salt... Today, the situation has reached a point where people use what they have saved. As my interlocutor explains, she can't sell the products. "I worked for a couple of months, then the roads were closed. There were times when there was no salt, no sand, and even the flour quality was poor. Due to the scarcity of products, I chose to wait and avoid using the last remaining supplies. Then I began sharing with others. I even gave a cup of sugar from the entire bag. A mom of an eight-month-old child asked for sugar. She offered to pay, but I refused to take money. I couldn't accept it. I gave it to the child to ensure they have something," says Lusine, with her voice reflecting deep care and compassion. Lusine Sahakyan Then she baked cupcakes and shared them with the children in the neighborhood. She even took a bag with her when she went to the dairy and waited in line. "At six in the morning, we joined the queue at the dairy shop where 350 people were already waiting. People had been sitting and waiting in line all night. However, I returned empty-handed as I couldn't bear to witness such scenes. A child even fainted. I took the cupcakes with me in case there would be children in the queue. As expected, there were several kids standing nearby. I handed the bag of cupcakes to the children and told them to share with eachother and eat so they wouldn't faint." In the outskirts where Lusine resides, the situation is slightly more manageable. She mentions that the central areas are experiencing dreadful queues, and there are individuals who can't endure it – they're lying on the ground with their children. Lusine sends me a photo of an elderly woman seated on a stone, clutching two pieces of bread in her hands. The elderly woman endured the scorching heat and walked for an extended period, making her way to the bakery. She patiently waited in line from midnight until dawn.  Yesterday Lusine made sugar lollipops, shared with children, and made sugar cubes for the elderly․  Lusine, who is employed at the Ministry of Social Development in Artsakh, has coordinated with the orphanage director to deliver sweets to the children in the orphanage in the upcoming days. "I decided to confirm the exact number of children and prepare cupcakes and sugar cubes to deliver to them. They need it more since others might have more options to find stuff. When people tell me to save it for my kids, I answer that I'm one of you, I can not sell but give away," says Lusine, who continues to treat the neighboring children with sweets.  Lusine grows some vegetables in the garden, where she still manages to harvest some tomatoes, cucumbers, and potatoes, although it's not a limitless source. Currently, bringing goods from the villages to the city has become impossible. Lusine's children no longer like pasta, like many other children, they require vitamins and proper nutrition, which has become increasingly challenging to obtain. Her children are 17, 16, 9, 6, and 4 years old.  Lusine's father participant in all Karabakh wars. He participated in all the wars to defend Artsakh and was seriously wounded during the first war. Lusine recalls that in the nineties, when her father participated in the liberation of Karvachar, he called his brother [Lusine's uncle] on her birthday and said that they should definitely celebrate his daughter's birthday, as he might not be able to return...Lusine refused, saying that she wouldn't have a single birthday without her father present. "A few weeks ago, my father was told this story, he wasn't aware of it before. Tears welled up in my father's eyes. I remember those days, my uncle was speaking to my father from the outside, and I overheard my father saying that they should celebrate my birthday every year no matter what. After that I didn't like my birthday. Later, my father returned triumphantly, yet wounded and covered in blood, I witnessed that. Now, I can't congratulate... What kind of victory is it? But I hope that I will be able to congratulate him on that day again," Lusine says, and I recall that on the night of November 9, this thought lingered in my mind. I was contemplating how I would congratulate my father on May 9. Shortly after my father died and now I stand in silence by his grave on that day. But I give Lusine hope, assuring her that she will have the chance to congratulate her father on that day again. "I hold onto hope that God will guide us through this, and even if countries remains silent about the situation, we trust that God sees everything. We must continue to love and support one another, coming together to resist and persevere. We are ready to face hunger only to stand on our land, as this is our unwavering goal. We hold onto this hope," Lusine says. Despite having the option to leave the country, they have chosen to stay, determined to continue living in their homeland. Lusine's father-in-law lost his life in the Karabakh war. His family fled from Baku as refugees. In the late 80s, they arrived in Spitak, but their arrival was marked by the earthquake. Miraculously escaping from the rubble, they managed to reach Artsakh. Afterwards, his father went to war and died. "My husband says that his father came here and gave his life for this land, so he can't imagine leaving now. It's a tragic story...but we don't want to leave." Currently, their family is in the process of repairing the house and organizing the basement. Lusine says that no matter what they should have well-maintained shelters, as one can never predict if another war might erupt. Since December 12, 2022, Azerbaijan has closed the only road connecting Artsakh to Armenia, the Lachin Corridor. On April 23, 2023,  the Azerbaijani side closed the Hakari bridge on the Artsakh-Armenia border, which was in the area of responsibility of the Russian peacekeeping troops in the Lachin corridor, thus deepening the humanitarian crisis. An Azerbaijani checkpoint was installed on the Hakari bridge. Since June 15 of this year, Azerbaijan has banned all humanitarian transportation through the Lachin Corridor. After that, the ICRC was only able to transport patients to Armenia a few times. On July 29, Azerbaijan kidnapped a 68-year-old citizen from the ICRC-mediated patient who was transferred to Armenia from the checkpoint near the Hakari bridge and took him to an unknown place. On August 1, Azerbaijani servicemen kidnapped another citizen who tried to go to Armenia on foot from the village of Hin Shen in Artsakh, his whereabouts are also unknown. Artsakh has almost completely run out of essential products and medicine. Coupons intended for buying food months ago are now useless because the stores are empty. People go out only to get bread. Artsakh has run out of fuel, public transport does not work at all, and private cars rarely move. The gas supply is regularly interrupted, and electricity is cut off. In Artsakh, 120 thousand people, including 30 thousand children, are under total blockade.   The photos are from Lusine Sahakyan's archive Hayarpi Baghdasaryan
19:53 - 07 August, 2023
"When we are in our own country, we endure whatever comes our way; the crucial thing is that we live here as Armenians, bread and hunger, though difficult, are not the primary focus." [Blockade from the Inside]

"When we are in our own country, we endure whatever comes our way; the crucial thing is that we live here as Armenians, bread and hunger, though difficult, are not the primary focus." [Blockade from the Inside]

As I write this article, I am situated 328 km away from Stepanakert, the capital of Artsakh. From here to Rome, the distance is incredibly vast and beyond measure. I could travel to Rome, a place where fewer individuals share my memories compared to Stepanakert. However, the route to Artsakh, only 328 km away, has been inaccessible for over seven months now. Artsakh is under blockade. However, it's not just Artsakh; the roads aren't blocked solely in their direction. The roads are obstructed for us as well. Why is it possible for me to travel to Rome but not to Stepanakert? Maybe if I were in Artsakh now, my heart would feel more at ease. However, this is not my story. This short piece is about my colleague, Tatevik Aghajanyan, who resides in Stepanakert, as well as to all those living in Artsakh, who steadfastly uphold the principle of self-determination. Tatevik Aghajanyan hails from the Khnushinak village, Martuni region, and currently resides in Stepanakert. The blockade weighs even heavier here than in the villages, as at least there people can cultivate gardens and obtain a modest harvest. Amidst the challenges of daily life and living conditions, there is an added layer of sadness stemming from being separated from loved ones. For over a month, Tatevik has been unable to visit her hometown due to the lack of transportation and fuel. Even when vehicles have managed to arrive from the village recently, it was risky to travel back to village with them: what if they would completely run out of fuel. My interlocutor works and lives in Stepanakert. A handful of berries from the village Communication issues are also prevalent in Artsakh. Maintaining communication with relatives through phone calls is not always feasible. Power outages not only impact electricity but also lead to issues with water supply. "Water pumps struggle to keep up with pumping water, resulting in periodic interruptions in the water supply. This happened after the war as well. The children come down to take water from the fountain in small bowls," sahres Tatevik, whose journalistic perspective has keenly observed numerous events unfolding outside.  While the blockade weighs heavily on the people, Tatevik is confident that the people in Artsakh are resilient and steadfast. It is just the scenes that are hard to witness.  "I was deeply moved when I saw a woman with tears in her eyes, observing the people waiting in line for bread. It's unfortunate that people have to wait for hours just to get a piece of bread," says Tatevik, noting that many choose not to go for bread, as waiting in line for hours under the scorching sun is incredibly challenging.  "It's somewhat easier for me to manage without bread since I'm alone and there are no children at home. If there's no bread for a day, I don't consider it a major issue for us. However, for those with multiple children at home, it's extremely challenging... Especially for those residing in Stepanakert, as they are unable to receive food supplies from the villages. I do not know how much longer this can last." Prior to the complete blockade, people were provided with coupons for purchasing goods, which have now become obsolete in the face of scarcity Tatevik believes that people have become more attentive to one another now. "One of my co-workers got sick, and despite everyone being aware of the scarcity in the shops, everyone brought something from home to give to her. They understand that there's insufficient food at her home as well," Tatevik shares. There are no flowers anymore so people gather what they have that can be of help and give one another.  The "bouquet" for Tatevik's Birthday Questions and discussions regarding medicines, proper nutrition, and essential supplies are becoming repetitive. The response remains consistent - there are none. So I ask Tatevik: what empowers you to persevere through these challenges? "I cannot living anywhere else. While in our own country, we endure. We will persist as much as we can. The crucial aspect is that we live here as Armenians; bread and hunger, though difficult, are not the primary focus," Tatevik responds with conviction. Since December 12, 2022, Azerbaijan has closed the only road connecting Artsakh to Armenia, the Lachin Corridor. On April 23, 2023,  the Azerbaijani side closed the Hakari bridge on the Artsakh-Armenia border, which was in the area of responsibility of the Russian peacekeeping troops in the Lachin corridor, thus deepening the humanitarian crisis. An Azerbaijani checkpoint was installed on the Hakari bridge. Since June 15 of this year, Azerbaijan has banned all humanitarian transportation through the Lachin Corridor. After that, the ICRC was only able to transport patients to Armenia a few times. On July 29, Azerbaijan kidnapped a 68-year-old citizen from the ICRC-mediated patient who was transferred to Armenia from the checkpoint near the Hakari bridge and took him to an unknown place. On August 1, Azerbaijani servicemen kidnapped another citizen who tried to go to Armenia on foot from the village of Hin Shen in Artsakh, his whereabouts are also unknown. Artsakh has almost completely run out of essential products and medicine. Coupons intended for buying food months ago are now useless because the stores are empty. People go out only to get bread. Artsakh has run out of fuel, public transport does not work at all, and private cars rarely move. The gas supply is regularly interrupted, and electricity is cut off. In Artsakh, 120 thousand people, including 30 thousand children, are under total blockade.   The photos are from Tatevik Aghajanyan's archive Hayarpi Baghdasaryan
18:17 - 06 August, 2023
"I will sleep hungry, I won't even eat sweets, but in exchange, I expect to live in my motherland, Artsakh" [Blockade from the inside]

"I will sleep hungry, I won't even eat sweets, but in exchange, I expect to live in my motherland, Artsakh" [Blockade from the inside]

Life seems to have stopped in Artsakh. Just like in the cartoon "Ice Age" when everything was frozen, it's kind of like that atmosphere. There is no movement, people cannot even move from one place to another. This is how the 22-year-old resident of Hatsi village of Martunu region, Tiruhi Gasparyan tells about the blockade of Artsakh. She tries her best to recall heart-warming moments. There's light inside the people, she says, everyone tries to help each other. "They share what they have, there is no egoism, and we all care and think about the people around us. Perhaps, that is what gives us the strength not to break down and be patient, not to give up, but to fight." Tiruhi Gasparyan Tiruhi has graduated from the Artsakh State University, Faculty of Tourism. For 2 years now, she has been working as a tour guide in the summer, and permanently in the Artsakh office of the National Armenian Educational and Cultural Union. Before the Artsakh blockade, she was also engaged in candle-making. Her candles had even got abroad, although she says, the blockade affected this as well. However, Tiruhi does not like to whine even in the most difficult situation. And that trait has also been strengthened thanks to this process, the growing care for each other. She tells that whoever has lots of cigarettes, shares with others so that they all smoke. It's strange, isn't it, that smoking is harmful to health, but who thinks about it at this crucial moment? Smoking is harmful, but there's a proverb (Armenian) that says getting into trouble with a friend turns into a wedding, so maybe friendship prolongs life. There is neither normal food nor sweets in Artsakh. If someone has a piece of chocolate or a piece of candy, they divide it into ten parts to make sure everyone gets a part. And on birthdays, instead of a cake, they put candles on a watermelon and knock on a relative's door at midnight. "We also give watermelon to the anniversary, soon watermelon will become a cult fruit for us, it saves us in any situation," Tiruhi jokes, "watermelon instead of bread, another watermelon instead of cake, watermelon instead of sweets..." We don't even talk about bread queues, everyone already knows that Artsakh people stand in line for hours for a piece of bread, not even knowing for sure whether they will get it or not. Except that it is more difficult in Stepanakert, at least people in the village have stored flour, they bake bread themselves. They also grow some fruits and vegetables in the gardens. This is how Tiruhi tells and immediately adds: "Actually, the situation is not that good, I just don't like to whine. I may stay hungry, the important thing is to be in my land." They have almost completely run out of tea, coffee, salt, and such things. Tiruhi says when she noticed that the supply of tea was getting little, she and her friend gathered plants and wild berries from their forest to make tea. Tiruhi recalls a warm memory from the days of the blockade when they visited the Amaras monastery as a group. "There is a kind old man there, the guardian of the monastery." Before the group entered the church to light a candle (I left early), we talked with him about various topics and walked around the monastery garden. He took out a sharp tool from his pocket and collected vegetables from the garden, saying: "Take it home to eat. You can even marinade it". On their way, they were also given warm, freshly baked bread in the village of Chartar. Tiruhi shows the photo of that day. In the conditions of regular lack of gas and electricity, people often have to cook on a wood stove in the heat of summer. At least they can do that in the village, but I wonder,  how do the residents of the Stepanakert do? Tiruhi keeps her mindset positive. She says it saves her in every trial. "Thanks to that trait, I am able to stand up again in very difficult situations and to have a positive influence on the people around me. I'll sleep hungry, I won't even eat sweets, convincing myself it's a diet of cutting down the sweets. But in exchange, I expect one thing: to live in my motherland - Artsakh. Trials and difficulties are also for humans. I love life, so I also love fighting for it. My only fear is the loss of my homeland and relatives. Nothing else matters". Since December 12, 2022, Azerbaijan closed the only road connecting Artsakh to Armenia, the Lachin Corridor. On April 23, 2023, the Azerbaijani side closed the Hakari bridge on the Artsakh-Armenia border, which was in the area of responsibility of the Russian peacekeeping troops, in the Lachin corridor, thus deepening the humanitarian crisis. An Azerbaijani checkpoint was installed on the Hakari bridge. Since June 15 of this year, Azerbaijan has banned all humanitarian transportation through the Lachin Corridor. After that, the ICRC was only able to transport patients to Armenia a few times. On July 29, Azerbaijan kidnapped a 68-year-old citizen from the ICRC-mediated patient who was being transferred to Armenia from the checkpoint near the Hakari bridge and took him to an unknown place. On August 1, Azerbaijani servicemen kidnapped another citizen who tried to go to Armenia on foot from the village of Hin Shen in Artsakh. His whereabouts are also unknown. Artsakh has almost completely run out of essential products and medicines. Coupons intended for buying food months ago are now useless because the stores are empty. People go out only to get bread. Artsakh has run out of fuel, public transport does not work at all, and private cars rarely move. The gas supply is regularly interrupted, and electricity is cut off. In Artsakh, 120 thousand people, including 30 thousand children, are under total blockade. Photos are from Tiruhi Gasparyan's archive Hayarpi Baghdasaryan
13:42 - 05 August, 2023
"The fact of Artsakh not being part of Azerbaijan is of greater importance than concerns about food." [Blockade from the inside]

"The fact of Artsakh not being part of Azerbaijan is of greater importance than concerns about food." [Blockade from the inside]

"The situation in Artsakh is deteriorating not just day by day, but hour by hour," says Zhanna Arzumanyan from Stepanakert. For someone who was born, raised, and currently resides in the capital of Artsakh, the thought of leaving their homeland is unimaginable. Even in the face of escalating hunger, medication shortages, and a challenging blockade, she prioritizes the fundamental right of the people of Artsakh to self-determination. "Either we defend ourselves or we'll be displaced, and it seems that self-determination does not happen without deprivation," she says. Zhanna Arzumanyan Arzumanyan notes that the cases of fainting are increasing, as well as among children and diabetics. Getting to medical centres became nearly impossible given the lack of fuel, and even if one manages to reach there, the medicines are often depleted. "Within two days, there might be nothing left in Artsakh at all. The only road connecting Artsakh to Armenia was completely closed in June, and during this time people used what they had stored, which is noraml," Zhanna says, worried that children are already showing signs of vitamin deficiency, and the impact of inadequate nutrition is becoming evident. "In these conditions, children's rights are violated, they are not having a normal childhood," Arzumanyan says, noting that her 13-year-old grandson sold his bicycle to buy coffee and cigarettes for the soldiers, although they've already run out of coffee. The boy bought a pack of cigarettes from one place and a block from another, and is waiting to send them. "Instead of enjoying childhood, children grow up prematurely..." Like everyone else in Artsakh, she receives bread with a coupon. Early in the morning, before the sun comes up, she has to go and wait for her turn to get at least a piece of bread. Zhanna's worried that Armenians lack unity now. "All of us must come together for one idea, hold hands and get out of this situation. I'm talking about unity among the entire Armenian nation, not only in Artsakh. We have to put all stereotypes aside, all political viewpoints and get down to serious business, because we don't reach anything by calling or writing posts and letters. Maybe we will get there tomorrow, but we need more serious steps today." Zhanna Arzumanyan, a member of the Artsakh Chamber of Advocates, knows that the difficult path they have gone through gives them strength."Several wars, so many young lost lives, so many feelings... How to leave Artsakh? How much blood has been put on this land so that Artsakh remains Armenian... Artsakh should not be part of Azerbaijan, and it's more important than thinking about food." Since December 12, 2022, Azerbaijan has closed the only road connecting Artsakh to Armenia, the Lachin Corridor. On April 23, 2023,  the Azerbaijani side closed the Hakari bridge on the Artsakh-Armenia border, which was in the area of responsibility of the Russian peacekeeping troops in the Lachin corridor, thus deepening the humanitarian crisis. An Azerbaijani checkpoint was installed on the Hakari bridge. Since June 15 of this year, Azerbaijan has banned all humanitarian transportation through the Lachin Corridor. After that, the ICRC was only able to transport patients to Armenia a few times. On July 29, Azerbaijan kidnapped a 68-year-old citizen from the ICRC-mediated patient who was transferred to Armenia from the checkpoint near the Hakari bridge and took him to an unknown place. On August 1, Azerbaijani servicemen kidnapped another citizen who tried to go to Armenia on foot from the village of Hin Shen in Artsakh, his whereabouts are also unknown. Artsakh has almost completely run out of essential products and medicine. Coupons intended for buying food months ago are now useless because the stores are empty. People go out only to get bread. Artsakh has run out of fuel, public transport does not work at all, and private cars rarely move. The gas supply is regularly interrupted, and electricity is cut off. In Artsakh, 120 thousand people, including 30 thousand children, are under total blockade.   The photos are from Zhanna Arzumanyna's archive Hayarpi Baghdasaryan
23:56 - 04 August, 2023
"So that our "bread" doesn't turn into "хлеб" (Russian for bread): Grandmother from Artsakh wants her grandchildren to grow up in the homeland

"So that our "bread" doesn't turn into "хлеб" (Russian for bread): Grandmother from Artsakh wants her grandchildren to grow up in the homeland

I enter the house of my neighbors to bid farewell as I'm moving from the village to Stepanakert. And I decide to record my conversation with Zabel, who was my grandmother in Artsakh for two years and the only woman who was allowed to get angry with me when I didn't eat well or didn't leave the house for days. Zabella Adamyan is a resident of Mokhratagh village, Martakert region, Artsakh. Many years ago, following her marriage to Donik, she relocated here from the Zaglik community of the same region. She has three children, lives with her husband, son's family - three granddaughters. Donik, Zabella's husband I enter the house the moment they are discussing how to get to Martakert to buy shoes for school-age grandchildren. There is no alternative to walking 8-9 km to the regional center, because they will not find a car, and there are only a few pairs of children's shoes left in the city, so they should buy them so that the girls won't be without new shoes come September. Zabella notes with pain that during the years when her children were the same age as her grandchildren now, it was the period of the first Artsakh war. Even if shoes could be found, they didn't have money to afford them. His children took turns wearing the same pair of shoes. Now, after all these years, when it seemed they had established a somewhat wealthy life, they have money but there are no shoes. In terms of food, the situation is less extreme compared to Stepanakert.  "Thank God, currently our family is not facing the problem of starving. At one point we used our coupons to buy food, there is still some. Our small garden is full of vegetables: beans, potatoes, zucchini, greens. However, adults often refrain from eating to ensure there's enough for the children. We bought a kg of candy back then, and now we give one piece a day to children, we don't eat so that it lasts a little longer," says Zabella. She recalls facing numerous challenges in the past, where a single piece of candy had to be shared among three children. As a result, she's become more cautious and has saved some sweets to ensure her grandchildren don't experience the same hardships. Zabella's yard "It's a pity there is no fruit, we are short of fruits. There is none, because most of it came from Armenia, but whatever was growing here, a hailstorm swept away the entire harvest," she says. As for her one-year-old granddaughter, due to the scarcity of baby food, she is mostly given what the rest of the family eats, or they slaughter a chicken and use the meat sparingly, reserving it mainly for the baby. Zabel notes with sadness that at times, her other granddaughters express a desire for meat soup, but they feel compelled to ensure there's enough left for their younger sister. Zabella's granddaughters and my best friends, Mane and Meline Azerbaijanis have never lived in Mokhratagh village, where my neighbor currently resides. The village was exclusively inhabited by Armenians. However, in her native Zaglik village, both Armenians and Azerbaijanis used to live alongside each other. "Our village and a Turkish village, Umutlu, were an international community. A Turk would always be appointed as the leader, and the one carrying out all the heavy work would be an Armenian. Once, instead of my mother, we went to pick corn seeds. We worked quickly, we probably collected fifty kg in one day, and the Turks came with a mattress, sat down, and collected a handful of corn. At the end of the month, we see that the Turks have received more money than we did. We have always suffered in every way, whereas the good work was theirs," Zabella recalls, adding that the school was also international, where the director was a Turk, the military instructor, and the PE teacher were all Turks. They would not appoint Armenians. "Our Armenian school was a single-story building with several small classrooms. Theirs was an adjacent, two-story big school. We would always feel the difference. We were not afraid of each other, at that time there was no such thing as being afraid of Turks, we lived with each other, but we have always felt that we were treated differently. For example, If an Armenian would offend a Turk, the next day they would either steal the livestock or harm your children at school, they would definitely do something," she says. She does not deny that they were neighbors with Azerbaijanis, they had acquaintances who would visit for both joyous and somber occasions, but she also recalls this story: "In the 90s, a doctor from Haterk was kidnapped and taken away. And there they had clearly told him that on the day of the Armenian Genocide, they should take an Armenian's head and put it in front of their mullah. We were kids, and we would hear that an Armenian disappeared from time to time in different places, and, we did not know what was happening. Then women from Haterk kidnapped people from Omon, took Russians as "captives", and released that doctor. Later he told all this and that's how we learned what the Turks did." She also remembers that it was especially difficult to deal with fanatical Muslims. "We had a Turkish acquaintance, we went to his son's party, and my mom was supposed to be the cook. An old lady came and said they wouldn't eat a meal cooked by an Armenian. Mom said they should make their own meal then. But the younger generation was not like that. Although it was not customary for them to eat pork and fish, coming to our house, they would ask my mom to cook some fish." I don't even manage to interrupt my beloved grandmother when she answers, preventing my expected question. "Not now, at present, living together is entirely impossible, and it's difficult to even envision. No integration, they only want our land, they don't want us. Living with them, being a part of them, is simply not feasible." Zabella Adamyan holds onto the hope that they will remain in their homes and continue to be the rightful owners of their land. "There are people who are thinking about leaving, they sell their goods, and we buy them," she chuckles bitterly and notes that the children must not forget the language of Karabakh. "In the 90s, when we had to flee, my children were around the same age as my grandchildren are now. While all our relatives went to Russia, I did not want my children's language to change. We stayed in Armenia and returned to Artsakh. In the same manner, I don't want my grandchildren to live elsewhere, so that... our bread doesn't turn into "хлеб" (Russian for bread)," concludes my beloved babo (grandma) from Artsakh. Astghik Keshishyan
21:57 - 04 August, 2023