Editorial: The great temptation of small states

Two developments last week should prompt serious reflection among those paying close attention to Armenia’s trajectory. They were not surprising. On the contrary, they reinforced a pattern that has been gradually consolidating in recent years.

U.S. Vice President Vance’s trip to Armenia and Azerbaijan was framed as a milestone in deepening strategic ties, with a focus on regional transit routes, TRIPP, the Middle Corridor, technology cooperation, energy diversification, and security alignment. Yet the most revealing elements were not in the official talking points, but in what was conspicuously absent.

Concerns about democratic erosion in Armenia received no attention. The continued detention of Armenian hostages in Baku was acknowledged, but without urgency, clarity, or visible consequences. Even symbolic gestures proved negotiable: after the visit to the Genocide Memorial at Tsitsernakaberd, the word “genocide” quietly disappeared from an official communication. In international politics, symbolism is rarely accidental.

At nearly the same time, a report from the Council of Europe’s human rights office reduced the mass displacement of Artsakh’s Armenian population to an issue of “integration.” Questions of accountability, ethnic cleansing, and the right to self-determination were effectively sidelined. A profound injustice was reframed as a technical matter of administrative absorption.

Taken together, these episodes illustrate a familiar reality in global affairs: in strategically sensitive regions, smaller states are often assessed primarily for geopolitical usefulness rather than for democratic integrity or human rights performance.

For Armenia, that usefulness is currently defined by its role in alternative transit corridors, energy routes that diversify supply chains, and its alignment within broader regional power competition. Strategic positioning, rather than internal governance, appears to carry greater weight.

Georgia’s recent experience offers a cautionary parallel. For years, it was celebrated as a reform success story and reliable Western partner. But when its domestic political direction shifted, and its predictability declined, international enthusiasm cooled. Strategic calculations, more than normative commitments, shaped that response.

Armenia risks finding itself in a similar environment, though from a different starting point. Endorsements from Washington and European institutions suggest that geopolitical alignment presently outweighs concerns about democratic standards or unresolved justice questions.

This dynamic is not unique to Western actors. Moscow operated according to comparable logic when Armenia was embedded within its security framework. Major powers, regardless of orientation, tend to prioritize strategic advantage over normative consistency.

For smaller countries, the central risk is not choosing between partnerships. It is entering relationships without leverage and becoming structurally dependent. When foreign policy becomes reactive—guided by accommodation rather than agency—a state ceases to shape outcomes and instead adjusts to decisions made elsewhere.

The alternative is not isolation, nor a simplistic attempt to balance patrons. It is strategic self-confidence rooted in domestic strength. Armenia must reinforce its institutions, broaden its partnerships without overcommitting, and articulate clear non-negotiable principles, particularly regarding sovereignty, democratic governance, and justice for the Armenians of Artsakh.

Great powers will continue to act in pursuit of their interests. The critical question is whether Armenia can do the same and ensure that it participates in shaping decisions, rather than becoming the object of them.