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Akbar Novruz

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Yesterday was the birthday of war criminal Ruben Vardanyan, and it appears that some Armenians are attempting to glorify another criminal. Recently, several institutions and organisations, including the Aznavour Foundation, sent letters to commemorate the birthday of Ruben Vardanyan, who is currently imprisoned in Baku for war crimes. Notably, these letters included messages of support and several unfounded claims, such as the assertion that his arrest was unjust and politically motivated. While the message praised Vardanyan as a man of “clarity of vision” and “devotion to Armenia,” it willfully ignored the troubling reality surrounding his actions and the charges he faces.

The letter spoke of Vardanyan’s “indelible mark on modern Armenian history” and his “boldness” in the face of hardship. But what mark, exactly, are we speaking of? A billionaire who parachuted into Garabagh during a volatile period, assumed a self-declared leadership position in an illegal separatist regime, and funnelled resources into activities that violated Azerbaijani sovereignty and international law — this is the legacy being defended?

This romanticisation is not new. For decades, Armenian nationalist rhetoric has been built around unattainable and revisionist goals such as “the unification of Garabagh with Armenia” or “a Great Armenia from sea to sea.” The glorification of individuals like Vardanyan is simply the latest chapter in this enduring narrative, which has sustained a sense of victimhood and grievance but offered no practical solutions.

The liberation of Garabagh by Azerbaijan was a historical turning point, a reality check that shattered long-standing illusions. It dismantled the belief that land could be held through occupation and that the international community would indefinitely tolerate separatist enclaves. It also exposed the ideological emptiness of the global Armenian lobby, which continues to rally around outdated slogans and vilify Azerbaijan instead of embracing a future based on peace, cooperation, and mutual recognition.

Despite being portrayed by some as a “philanthropist” or “prisoner of conscience,” Ruben Vardanyan is facing serious criminal charges in Azerbaijan, including torture, mercenary activity, terrorism, and financing terrorism. These are not allegations invented for political purposes; they are grounded in evidence and legal process.

The Working Group on Arbitrary Detention under the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights issued a formal opinion affirming that no violations were committed during the investigation of Vardanyan. It concluded that his detention was based on “reasonable suspicions” of criminal activity and that his right to the presumption of innocence was upheld in line with international standards.

Why, then, do his defenders avoid asking the obvious question: What was Ruben Vardanyan, a Russian-Armenian billionaire, really doing in Azerbaijani territory? Why are those so quick to point fingers at Azerbaijan unwilling to address the reality of armed separatism and illegal governance structures backed by figures like him?

There’s more. Vardanyan’s name is not only tied to the events in Garabagh. He has also been implicated in large-scale financial misconduct, including the now-infamous “Troika Laundromat” — a billion-dollar money-laundering scheme involving shell companies and offshore accounts. His name has come up in multiple international investigations, casting further doubt on the narrative of him being a benevolent humanitarian.

In light of all this, the coordinated support campaign launched by diaspora organizations and institutions like the Aznavour Foundation seems less about justice and more about saving face. It reflects a deep unwillingness to accept the outcome of a conflict that Armenia itself prolonged through aggression and occupation.

Some now even threaten Azerbaijan with legal action in the International Criminal Court — a threat that conveniently ignores who violated international law in the first place by maintaining illegal armed groups on another country’s soil. The hypocrisy is glaring.

As Azerbaijan's Foreign Ministry recently noted, after the signing of a peace treaty between Armenia and Azerbaijan, both countries will withdraw cases from international courts, a clear sign of Azerbaijan’s willingness to turn the page through legal and diplomatic means.

But for that to happen, Armenian society and its diaspora must stop clinging to the past. They must stop rewriting reality to suit their own narrative. The future of the South Caucasus cannot be built on myths and martyrdom. It must be grounded in facts, accountability, and respect for international borders.

It’s time to ask the difficult questions, rather than idolise the wrong people.