Azernews.Az

By Farman Aydin | AzerNEWS

There is a saying that denying the obvious is worse than committing the original wrong. In the realm of international relations, this becomes especially dangerous when mixed with arrogance, duplicity, and political showmanship. Unfortunately, this is precisely what we are witnessing in France’s handling of its South Caucasus diplomacy.

Once again, France stands at the centre of a growing diplomatic spectacle — this time, not because of high-level negotiations or peace proposals, but due to its troubling alignment with Armenian lobbying circles and an internal scandal turned outward.

Rather than strengthening bilateral ties with Baku or fostering constructive dialogue, the French ambassador to Azerbaijan, Anne Boillon, has chosen to amplify a theatrical grievance aired by her colleague in Yerevan, Ambassador Olivier Decottignies. In a strikingly dramatic post on social media, Mr. Decottignies decried a “defamatory campaign” supposedly launched against him by Azerbaijani media — a campaign he claims includes accusations of corruption, visa trafficking, and even pedophilia.

Ambassador Boillon, without offering evidence or balance, rushed to signal her solidarity by reposting Decottignies’ lament to her Azerbaijani audience. What followed was a moment of stark clarity: rather than representing the French Republic, France’s embassy in Baku appeared to be echoing the talking points of lobby organisations operating far from any diplomatic neutrality.

This episode raises an uncomfortable but necessary question: Is this confusion, or is it deliberate complicity?

To set the record straight, the initial reports about Ambassador Decottignies’ alleged misconduct, including compromising photographs, did not originate in Azerbaijani media. Rather, they appeared first on the social media accounts of Léo Nicolian, a journalist of Armenian origin. The ambassador’s personal controversy quickly spiralled, as public figures’ scandals often do in the digital age. And yet, instead of addressing the situation transparently or privately, French officials opted to point fingers abroad, with Azerbaijan as the chosen scapegoat.

The logic behind such accusations is difficult to grasp. If, as is suggested, the French ambassador to Armenia stepped on the toes of a particular journalist, and that journalist retaliated, how does Azerbaijan enter into this picture?

One cannot help but feel that France’s diplomats have lost sight of their duties. In targeting Azerbaijani media, which is neither a mouthpiece for any pro-government nor anti-Armenian propaganda, French officials risk undermining what remains of Paris’s credibility in the region.

Historically, France has been an open and enthusiastic supporter of Armenia, culturally, politically, and strategically. That is their prerogative. But when support turns into bias, and bias morphs into scapegoating, the consequences can be diplomatic isolation and loss of trust. If the claims being made now had any historical grounding, surely Azerbaijan would have mounted similar smear campaigns in decades past. Yet no such pattern exists.

Indeed, this kind of political melodrama, accusing others to deflect from domestic embarrassment, is not part of Azerbaijan’s diplomatic toolkit. If anything, it is a tactic too often used against Baku rather than by it.

France would do well to reconsider its tone and its tactics. Rather than clouding interstate relations with petty provocations and conspiracy-laced claims, Paris should focus on preserving its international image and restoring constructive engagement in the region.

Petty grievances, when elevated to national policy, rarely end well. And in this case, they risk leaving France not as a peace-broker or a regional partner — but as a cautionary tale in how not to conduct diplomacy.