Karabakh
AGBU.org
April 2004
The Karabakh Question: After a decade of cease-fire, now what?
Karabakh
Tony Halpin
The ceasefire that ended the fighting in Nagorno Karabakh between Azerbaijan
and Armenian forces sees its 10th anniversary in May. It is a date that is
both a remarkable landmark and a symbol of the continued elusiveness of a
permanent solution to the conflict.
February marked an older anniversary, the 16th year since the emergence of
the Karabakh Movement that was the catalyst for the independence of Armenia.
The two events define the modern republic and its relationship with the
worldwide Diaspora, perhaps even more than recognition of the Genocide in
the immediacy of its importance for the future security of the Armenian
nation.
Few of the one million people who massed in the streets of Yerevan in those
early heady days of demonstrations would have predicted that Armenia would
have a Karabakhtsi as head of state within a decade and another as defense
minister. Fewer still might have believed that the “Karabakh Question” would
remain unsolved in the international arena.
That question is settled in the minds of the men and women on the street,
who have paid a terrible price in blood and endured massive economic
sacrifice to secure military victory and Artsakh’s (historic Armenian name
of Karabakh) independent status. But it remains open to interpretation in
the arena of international politics and there are many signs that 2004 will
see a marked increase in the pressure for a final settlement.
President Robert Kocharian occupies a unique position. His political
authority as a wartime leader and former President of Karabakh is viewed by
many as a guarantee that he won’t make concessions that undermine the
country’s de facto independence. Conversely, he is seen as someone who can
sell possibly painful concessions to the Armenian public, in Armenia,
Karabakh and further afield, precisely because of his political authority.
He runs the risk of being damned if he does, therefore, and damned if he
doesn’t.
The suggestion of compromise with Azerbaijan was enough to force former
president Levon Ter Petrosian from office in 1998, partly at the hands of
Kocharian, whom he had brought to Yerevan as Prime Minister. Kocharian does
not forget that he owes his present position to negative public reaction and
that he may lose it the same way.
That political crisis exposed a philosophical divide at the top of the
Armenian leadership. The Ter Petrosian faction considered a settlement to
the conflict an essential precondition of economic recovery for Armenia,
burdened by the impact of the Azerbaijani blockade and the cost of
sustaining the defense of Karabakh, and that it could be achieved through a
step-by-step process of confidence-building measures. Kocharian represented
the view that a stronger Armenian economy was possible without a settlement
and would improve the prospects of achieving one through an all-embracing
package deal.
The latter policy has dominated for five years now and Armenia’s economy has
certainly improved, recording the fastest growth of any former Soviet
republic in 2003. This year will likely put Kocharian’s argument to the
test: Has his hand been strengthened in striking a deal-or perhaps resisting
one-with Azerbaijan under the auspices of the international mediators in the
Minsk Group of the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe
(OSCE)? Or has pursuit of a “package” solution over step-by-step measures
weakened Armenia’s bargaining position through delay?
About the only thing that unites the different elements of the divided
political landscape in Yerevan is the view that a settlement must
incorporate one of these two objectives. The gray area is what may be
conceded to achieve it and whether it is achievable at all in the face of
Azerbaijan’s repeated refusal to entertain any solution that does not leave
Karabakh under Baku’s jurisdiction.
The position of the government in Stepanakert is clear: Karabakh must either
be independent or reunited with Armenia. One of the ironies of Kocharian’s
elevation in Yerevan, however, has been Karabakh’s relegation from any
involvement in talks on its future status. Armenia used to argue that the
issue was best addressed by dialogue between Artsakh and Azerbaijan, in
which it was the guarantor of Karabakh’s security. Kocharian, however, has
taken upon himself the responsibility of representing the position of both
Karabakh and Armenia, dropping any pretense that the two may be separate.
In many ways this is only common sense (though diplomatically it may cause
problems). Stepanakert remains dependent on Yerevan for financial support,
encouragement of inward investment, and transport links to the wider world.
It could not support anything at odds with Armenia’s view of the conflict,
even assuming there were circumstances in which it would wish to.
Drive the road from Yerevan to Stepanakert, the capital of Karabakh-the
linking Artsakh section built with money raised in the Diaspora-and the two
already feel as one. Nothing any longer defines the strip of land between
Armenia and Artsakh as Azeri territory. Only a road sign and a traffic
police post mark the passage into Nagorno Karabakh Republic, as if you were
driving from one region of Armenia into another.
Kocharian has made plain that a final settlement must include a common
border between Armenia and Artsakh and it is inconceivable that it could be
any other way now. The land between the two is being populated with Armenian
families, creating facts on the ground that the Minsk Group mediators will
find impossible to ignore.
The secrecy that envelopes the negotiating process, however, makes it almost
impossible to divine the shape of the settlement being put together by the
mediators. Kocharian and the late Heydar Aliyev were believed to have
achieved the outline of a deal at the Key West summit hosted by Secretary of
State Colin Powell in 2001, only for it to break down after the latter
balked at selling it to his public.
With power now passed to Aliyev’s son Ilham as president, the question is
whether discussions pick up where they left off or whether the new Aliyev
has a different perspective on the future shape of a deal. Kocharian’s
meeting with him in Geneva late last year was little more than an
opportunity to look his opponent in the eye to see what measure of a man he
was dealing with. The hard bargaining remains and always with the risk that
the outcome may be derailed by negative public reaction in either country
once the details are revealed. In that regard, Kocharian’s recent offer to
put any proposals to a referendum can be viewed in two lights. Approval by
the public narrows the scope for being ousted by hardliners in the manner of
Ter Petrosian. Kocharian also knows that public rejection in a vote offers
him an escape route from international pressure to agree to an
unsatisfactory deal involving, for example, an exchange of territory
involving the southern Meghri region.
Two issues could break the deadlock. One, inevitably, is oil. Construction
of the pipeline from Baku to Ceyhan in Turkey is well advanced and oil is
expected to start flowing by the middle of next year. Azerbaijan is on the
brink of a boom in which it expects to earn some $20 billion in oil revenues
over the next two decades. For comparison, Armenia’s total state budget this
year is about $480 million.
It does not follow, as some commentators insist, that a newly wealthy
Azerbaijan will rearm for the specific purpose of launching a war of
“liberation” over Karabakh. Desperate people fight because they have nothing
to lose. The more comfortable life becomes in Baku, the less likely its
young men will be willing to exchange the pleasures of a consumer life for
the prospect of a painful death in a land most will never have seen. Far
from fueling conflict, oil may give Azerbaijan a reason to avoid war and an
incentive to seek a deal with Armenia. Azeri prosperity, therefore, may
become a security goal for Armenia and certainly a bargaining chip in
securing a settlement that allows Baku to enjoy the fruits of its good
fortune while giving Karabakh effective independence.
The second issue relates to Kocharian’s changed status. With the senior
Aliyev’s death and the sudden demise of Eduard Shevardnadze in Georgia’s
“rose revolution”, Armenia’s president has gone from junior head of state to
elder statesman of the Caucasus. Georgia’s new young president Mikhail
Saakashvili has already expressed a determination to build closer ties with
Armenia. Separatist movements in different parts of Georgia present him with
considerable challenges in holding his country together.
It may be that Kocharian can achieve a permanent solution to the Karabakh
issue by enlarging the context to include a broader common view of Caucasus
stability. All three countries in the region have an interest in avoiding
war and promoting prosperity, yet each is locked into narrow ethnic
conflicts whose resolution appear to demand a winner and a loser. Seeking
common approaches to securing minority rights may permit them to escape the
traps of a Soviet landscape that was never designed to serve their
interests.
Perhaps his seniority would give Kocharian an opportunity to take just such
an initiative. Now into his second term, he knows that history’s judgement
of him will be shaped by his ability to settle the Karabakh Question, the
issue that formed him as a man and that brought him to the presidency. He
feels the pressure of time. It remains to be seen whether 2004 will provide
the opportunity for him to seize the moment.
