Nikol Pashinyan is the first politician in the South Caucasus region to lose a war, sit down at the negotiating table with former enemies, and focus society on the need to come to terms with the past and start living for the future. For many, such a calculation would look like political suicide, but not for Pashinyan, whom journalists describe as both a pro-Western politician and a populist. The phenomenon of the Armenian leader and the lessons for Georgia are explored in this article by Marta Ardashelia.
Lesson One: Do Not Lose Touch with the Electorate
Nikol Pashinyan came to power in 2018 following the “Velvet Revolution” and mass protests, promising to fight corruption and oligarchy. Even then, the politician offered not just a protest against the old system, but a positive vision of the future.
Pashinyan was born in the town of Ijevan in northern Armenia. He began his career as a journalist before becoming the country’s leading opposition politician. Images of him, backpack on his shoulders, leading people across the country, made headlines worldwide. In 2018, Pashinyan became a phenomenon of the former USSR and a rather bold development for a country fully controlled by Russia. And, of course, he earned Putin’s animosity.
Eight years later, Pashinyan found a new way to communicate with the public—through social media. During the 2026 election campaign, he actively used TikTok and Instagram, posting short clips set to music by Adele, Zemfira, Alla Pugacheva, and “Tbiliso.” Crucially, the politician did not take the traditional route here either: on social media, Pashinyan did not share his election platform, talk about economic growth, or discuss other things typical of such situations. Instead, Pashinyan remained silent on camera and blew hearts to his audience. He looked sad, funny, and comical. Using this simple technique, he transformed from a politician voters had grown tired of into a human being. His videos resonated not only in Armenia but also went viral across the entire post-Soviet space.
During the campaign, Pashinyan also had his share of outbursts. The most memorable was an episode in the metro, where the prime minister argued with a female citizen and her son over Karabakh. He effectively reproached Karabakh Armenians for inconsistency: according to him, during the exodus in the autumn of 2023, they demanded safe passage to Armenia, only to later accuse the authorities of failing to secure their return to Karabakh.
Following a wave of criticism directed at the prime minister, Pashinyan initially denied his remarks, claiming his words had been misinterpreted, but later apologized. Pashinyan simply admitted that he still cannot speak about the events of 2023 without emotion, calling it his “serious flaw.”
Lesson Two: Public Demand for Change Does Not Guarantee an Opposition Victory
Observer Tatul Hakobyan, who has known Pashinyan for over 30 years, told the Guardian:
“He is a man of the street and understands what people want to hear. That is why his rhetoric resonates with many Armenians.”
During the “Velvet Revolution,” Pashinyan did not rely solely on Yerevan. He did not limit himself to urban activism but reached beyond the capital’s protest class. He managed to find support among older voters and residents of small towns.
As Armenian analyst Narek Sukiasyan writes in his piece for OC Media, a “silent revolution” is currently underway in Armenia—not on the streets, but in the minds of voters. While Armenian politics used to revolve around Karabakh, historical justice, and national struggle, now more and more people are ready to discuss the economy, quality of life, security, and relations with neighbors.
Paradoxically, according to the columnist, although the youth appear more pro-Western, they are not the most ardent supporters of EU accession. According to IRI poll data, the strongest support for European integration is demonstrated by Armenia’s older age groups.
Using the “silent revolution” concept of American political scientist Ronald Inglehart, Sukiasyan emphasizes that people’s values are shaped by the experiences of their youth. Those who lived through crises and instability value security and order more; those who grew up in a freer environment have different political expectations.
And this is likely where the uniqueness of Pashinyan’s figure lies. He managed to make his voters compare the present not with the past, but with the proposed future. Many expected that after Karabakh, the Armenian elections would be a referendum on the past—on who was to blame for the defeat. However, Pashinyan succeeded in partially turning them into a choice between peace and EU integration.
The main thesis became: Armenia must transition from a politics of historical trauma to a politics of state-building.
At the same time, Pashinyan’s critics note that voters did not cast their ballots for an ideal leader, but rather for the lack of a convincing alternative. Pro-Russian opposition forces built their campaign on criticizing the government rather than presenting their own clear and understandable agenda. Observers believe Pashinyan won not because everyone is satisfied with him, but because his opponents failed to offer a more attractive model of the future.
Lesson Three: War and Peace
The opposition bloc “Strong Armenia” and others achieved notable results in the elections, and in total, pro-Russian and national-conservative parties garnered more than a third of the votes. This shows that Armenian society remains divided over the country’s future.
The election campaign in Armenia took place against the backdrop of deteriorating relations with Russia, ranging from a food embargo to threats of war. Moscow did not reinvent the wheel and tried to deploy its standard playbook against Pashinyan.
Particularly resonant was Russian President Vladimir Putin’s statement after the EAEU (Eurasian Economic Union) summit in Astana, warning that if Armenia begins transitioning to EU standards, Moscow will “wind down” all economic integration with Yerevan, and Armenian citizens will have to obtain work permits in Russia. Putin also emphasized that past attempts to join the EU had triggered the “crisis” in Ukraine.
“If we believe the moment is ripe to make a decision, we will not wait for others to tell us, because in the end, it is our decision. We know best when the moment to make it arrives,” Pashinyan responded at the time.
On the eve of the elections, additional attention was drawn to an investigation by the Dossier Center, based on internal documents of “Russian political strategists ‘deployed’ to several Armenian candidates.” According to the leak, Russian entities allegedly prepared a large-scale campaign to weaken Pashinyan’s position and maintain Moscow’s influence in Armenia. The authors of the investigation claimed that the Kremlin considered various scenarios for supporting pro-Russian forces, including information operations, working through media and public organizations, and promoting narratives about the failure of Yerevan’s pro-Western course.
But the most important thing Pashinyan managed to do was to convey to the public that Karabakh was a trap for Armenia.
“The most important thing that happened is that the Republic of Armenia freed itself from the trap of the conflict,” he said in one of his statements.
Indirectly, this meant that relations with Russia were a trap for Armenia.
The war over Karabakh coincided with Russia’s preparations for its invasion of Ukraine and its weakening in the region, which immediately brought new actors to the South Caucasus—they became allies for the countries of the region. Russia was caught off guard, or perhaps its restraint was bought. Before the elections, the Kremlin failed to run its propaganda campaign using the “war and peace” playbook, as it had done in Georgia. At the crucial moment, Armenian society proved capable of soberly assessing the outcomes of its own defeat in Karabakh, while Pashinyan went all-in and demonstrated the qualities of an effective crisis manager. Support from Western partners strengthened his position. Today, Russia and its supporters in Armenia are seen as the forces of war.
“The three-headed party of war must be neutralized and eradicated from the political life of Armenia,” Pashinyan declared after the elections, referring to his main rivals—Samvel Karapetyan, Robert Kocharyan, and Gagik Tsarukyan. He effectively called for the arrest of opposition leaders, stating that “in the end, these forces are not political”:
“They represent the oligarchic system. The entire criminal-oligarchic clan must be held accountable under the law, and all illegally acquired property must be confiscated.”
Risks to Armenia’s European Future
The seriousness of Pashinyan’s statements regarding his political opponents will become clear over time. And there is no correct recipe for how to act here. Georgia’s experience has shown that Russia, after temporarily retreating, attacks with even greater force, hitting society’s most painful spots. Pashinyan understands perfectly well: if Moscow ever targets him in earnest, there must be no political players left in Armenia capable of serving as its foothold.
And this is the ultimate test both for Pashinyan’s political maturity and for the resilience of Armenian state institutions. Will he be able to resist the temptation to substitute institutions with his own political will, as often happens with leaders around whom power is consolidated? And should a head of state even consider such a dilemma in a situation where Russia is openly conducting hybrid operations aimed at changing the political elite?
It is not ruled out that to resolve this contradiction, Pashinyan will once again have to go all-in. But it is vital that, in the heat of political gambling, Armenia’s chance to alter its new political trajectory is not sacrificed—a chance that until recently seemed almost impossible.
