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NAGORNO-KARABAKH'S FRAGILE STALEMATE
Anna Matveeva
guardian.co.uk
Monday 17 May 2010 14.00 BST
Tensions between Azerbaijan and Armenia are rising over the Karabakh
backwater amid fears that a 'great war' may be close
Last week, 12 May, marked 16 years since Russia mediated a ceasefire
agreement that ended the Armenian-Azerbaijani war over Nagorno-Karabakh
and started a long period of "no war, no peace" stagnation. Presently,
there is a sense that things might be changing.
The territory of Karabakh is essentially a backwater for both
countries. It had certain significance for Soviet military planners
because of its proximity to Turkey, but otherwise has no prize assets.
It is agricultural land, now sparsely populated because of the exodus
of ethnic Azerbaijanis who fled the war, with roads leading to closed
borders. Remote from Armenia's better-off areas around Yerevan,
development in Nagorno-Karabakh is being propped up by the Armenian
diaspora. It remains an isolated place that, unlike Abkhazia, has
received little assistance from the international community.
Many Armenians who are currently in Karabakh fled from inter-ethnic
violence in Azerbaijani cities, losing their good jobs and nice
apartments, and continue to feel embittered. On the opposite side of
the border, Azerbaijani farmers, displaced from the lands currently
occupied by the Armenian forces, look up towards their former homes
and think that they see the lights in them at night. If so, this must
be the army using their houses as barracks.
Would the Azerbaijani president, Ilham Aliyev, go to war for Karabakh?
It is a big question. The defence minister, Safar Abiyev, spoke in
February of the growing likelihood of a "great war" with Armenia.
Azerbaijan has a lot to lose if it does so. It has got rich quick
due to its energy resource development and is the only CIS country
that sustained positive economic growth during the financial crisis.
The state started to build roads, rehabilitate schools and resettle its
displaced people. The newly found prosperity conveyed a "feel-good"
atmosphere, but it also brought a new confidence that finally "the
game is ours". It cannot let 15% of its territory be lost for ever
without making an earnest effort to win something back. Any leader
with a sense of history would be mindful that future generations
would not forgive him this.
So Azerbaijan builds up its military capabilities, procures modern
weaponry and trains troops. It also unleashes bellicose rhetoric on
Azerbaijani TV channels, both in the Azeri language and in Russian.
Whether this propaganda is aimed at preparing society for war is
unclear, but it certainly instils trepidation in the Armenian public
of a threat of an imminent attack.
The military build-up and aggressive rhetoric is a pressure tactic of
presenting a credible threat, if Armenia does not move. It is effective
in projecting a fear that the war, fresh in the memory, can restart,
but ineffective in forcing a will for concessions. The public attitude
is that because so much has been sacrificed to gain these lands,
giving them back would be a betrayal of the memory of heroes who
died for them. Following this line of reasoning, the destiny is to
continue to sacrifice development for the sake of defence, even if
the price could be economic stagnation and social depression.
Encouragingly, Azerbaijan's leadership is risk-averse and not prone
to impulsive moves to suit a nationalist agenda. It does not need a
war to boost its popularity, because it is already popular. Rationally
speaking, the war is unlikely. But military games and sabre-rattling
have a tendency to get out of hand. Armenia's internal political
problems can give rise to a "now or never" attitude: since the
adversary appears weak, the time for a decisive push has arrived.
If it comes to it, the crucial issue is what Russia would do. There
is a fashionable belief that Moscow holds the key to a Karabakh
settlement, but a scenario in which Vladimir Putin calls the Armenian
president, Serzh Sargsyan, and orders him to withdraw from Karabakh
seems truly fantastic. In the current stalemate, Russia cannot do
more than the US and France, the other Minsk group co-chairs. However,
if fighting were to start, Moscow would be presented with an awkward
choice as to whether it defends Armenia militarily.
On the one hand, Armenia is a member of the Collective Security Treaty
Organisation, which, like Nato, operates on the collective defence
principle: an attack against one member is regarded as an attack on
all members. On the other hand, Moscow does not have the same problems
with Baku as it has with Tbilisi: the political relationship is good,
trade is rampant, Azerbaijan benefits from Russian investment and
the two states co-operate in combating terrorism. In the case of
deterioration, diplomatic rather than military pressure would be
Moscow's most likely option.
In the meantime, people on both sides vote with their feet. Rural areas
of Armenia, Karabakh and Azerbaijan are getting depopulated and aged,
while younger men, and increasingly women, solve the poverty problem
by labour migration to Russia. There are few signs that a political
culture of compromise is emerging.
Voices of the Azerbaijani intelligentsia standing against the war
are unpopular, as peacebuilding is equated in public wisdom with
surrendering Karabakh to the Armenians. Those who advocate peace
need to see a readiness from the Armenian side to make steps towards
compromise - otherwise "peacebuilding" amounts to an acceptance of
defeat. Such signs of compromise are yet to emerge. The danger is
that it might be getting too late for them to be noticed.
Anna Matveeva
guardian.co.uk
Monday 17 May 2010 14.00 BST
Tensions between Azerbaijan and Armenia are rising over the Karabakh
backwater amid fears that a 'great war' may be close
Last week, 12 May, marked 16 years since Russia mediated a ceasefire
agreement that ended the Armenian-Azerbaijani war over Nagorno-Karabakh
and started a long period of "no war, no peace" stagnation. Presently,
there is a sense that things might be changing.
The territory of Karabakh is essentially a backwater for both
countries. It had certain significance for Soviet military planners
because of its proximity to Turkey, but otherwise has no prize assets.
It is agricultural land, now sparsely populated because of the exodus
of ethnic Azerbaijanis who fled the war, with roads leading to closed
borders. Remote from Armenia's better-off areas around Yerevan,
development in Nagorno-Karabakh is being propped up by the Armenian
diaspora. It remains an isolated place that, unlike Abkhazia, has
received little assistance from the international community.
Many Armenians who are currently in Karabakh fled from inter-ethnic
violence in Azerbaijani cities, losing their good jobs and nice
apartments, and continue to feel embittered. On the opposite side of
the border, Azerbaijani farmers, displaced from the lands currently
occupied by the Armenian forces, look up towards their former homes
and think that they see the lights in them at night. If so, this must
be the army using their houses as barracks.
Would the Azerbaijani president, Ilham Aliyev, go to war for Karabakh?
It is a big question. The defence minister, Safar Abiyev, spoke in
February of the growing likelihood of a "great war" with Armenia.
Azerbaijan has a lot to lose if it does so. It has got rich quick
due to its energy resource development and is the only CIS country
that sustained positive economic growth during the financial crisis.
The state started to build roads, rehabilitate schools and resettle its
displaced people. The newly found prosperity conveyed a "feel-good"
atmosphere, but it also brought a new confidence that finally "the
game is ours". It cannot let 15% of its territory be lost for ever
without making an earnest effort to win something back. Any leader
with a sense of history would be mindful that future generations
would not forgive him this.
So Azerbaijan builds up its military capabilities, procures modern
weaponry and trains troops. It also unleashes bellicose rhetoric on
Azerbaijani TV channels, both in the Azeri language and in Russian.
Whether this propaganda is aimed at preparing society for war is
unclear, but it certainly instils trepidation in the Armenian public
of a threat of an imminent attack.
The military build-up and aggressive rhetoric is a pressure tactic of
presenting a credible threat, if Armenia does not move. It is effective
in projecting a fear that the war, fresh in the memory, can restart,
but ineffective in forcing a will for concessions. The public attitude
is that because so much has been sacrificed to gain these lands,
giving them back would be a betrayal of the memory of heroes who
died for them. Following this line of reasoning, the destiny is to
continue to sacrifice development for the sake of defence, even if
the price could be economic stagnation and social depression.
Encouragingly, Azerbaijan's leadership is risk-averse and not prone
to impulsive moves to suit a nationalist agenda. It does not need a
war to boost its popularity, because it is already popular. Rationally
speaking, the war is unlikely. But military games and sabre-rattling
have a tendency to get out of hand. Armenia's internal political
problems can give rise to a "now or never" attitude: since the
adversary appears weak, the time for a decisive push has arrived.
If it comes to it, the crucial issue is what Russia would do. There
is a fashionable belief that Moscow holds the key to a Karabakh
settlement, but a scenario in which Vladimir Putin calls the Armenian
president, Serzh Sargsyan, and orders him to withdraw from Karabakh
seems truly fantastic. In the current stalemate, Russia cannot do
more than the US and France, the other Minsk group co-chairs. However,
if fighting were to start, Moscow would be presented with an awkward
choice as to whether it defends Armenia militarily.
On the one hand, Armenia is a member of the Collective Security Treaty
Organisation, which, like Nato, operates on the collective defence
principle: an attack against one member is regarded as an attack on
all members. On the other hand, Moscow does not have the same problems
with Baku as it has with Tbilisi: the political relationship is good,
trade is rampant, Azerbaijan benefits from Russian investment and
the two states co-operate in combating terrorism. In the case of
deterioration, diplomatic rather than military pressure would be
Moscow's most likely option.
In the meantime, people on both sides vote with their feet. Rural areas
of Armenia, Karabakh and Azerbaijan are getting depopulated and aged,
while younger men, and increasingly women, solve the poverty problem
by labour migration to Russia. There are few signs that a political
culture of compromise is emerging.
Voices of the Azerbaijani intelligentsia standing against the war
are unpopular, as peacebuilding is equated in public wisdom with
surrendering Karabakh to the Armenians. Those who advocate peace
need to see a readiness from the Armenian side to make steps towards
compromise - otherwise "peacebuilding" amounts to an acceptance of
defeat. Such signs of compromise are yet to emerge. The danger is
that it might be getting too late for them to be noticed.