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Elnur Enveroglu

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Senior Iranian diplomat Ali Akbar Velayati’s repeated warnings against the opening of the Zangazur Corridor and its association with what he describes as a Trump plan for the Caucasus reveal more about Iran’s strategic anxieties than about the actual mechanics or intent of the corridor itself. His remarks to the Armenian ambassador, framed as a defence of regional security, sit uneasily alongside Armenia’s own readiness to cooperate with Washington and Azerbaijan on opening the route under the (Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity) or literally Transport and Regional Infrastructure Peace Platform proposal. This disconnect exposes a widening gap between Iran’s threat perception and the evolving interests of its northern neighbours.

For Armenia, the opening of the Zangazur Corridor represents an obvious opportunity to escape structural isolation rather than a concession of sovereignty. After decades of closed borders with Türkiye and Azerbaijan, and limited connectivity beyond Georgia and Iran, Yerevan increasingly understands that economic resilience depends on integration rather than obstruction. In addition, although Yerevan and Tehran are neighbouring states bound by historical ties and overlapping geopolitical interests, Armenia’s growing orientation towards the West exerts a far stronger pull, almost magnetically. For a country seeking, even if only partially, to exit Russia’s strategic orbit, drifting beyond the contours of Western engagement would place Armenia in a precarious position. It is for this reason that Yerevan, even if this sits uncomfortably with Tehran, does not reject the oversight of the historic route by a US company, and indeed views this arrangement as a form of security umbrella. Armenia is also fully aware that Western control over a strategic transport corridor in the region is more pragmatic and aligns more closely with the shared interests of Azerbaijan and Türkiye. Besides, Armenia is not endorsing foreign military presence, but rather international management standards that can guarantee predictability, insurance coverage, and investor confidence.

Armenia’s interest is also driven by changing global logistics. Since the outbreak of the Russia-Ukraine war, routes crossing Russian territory have become commercially and politically risky for Western actors. Sanctions regimes and security concerns have reduced the viability of northern Eurasian corridors. At the same time, routes through Iran are equally problematic for Western trade due to the scale of sanctions imposed on Tehran and the compliance risks faced by international firms. This leaves the South Caucasus, and specifically the east-west axis linking Central Asia to Europe via the Caspian, Azerbaijan, and Türkiye, as the most realistic alternative. The Zangazur Corridor is a missing link in this chain, connecting mainland Azerbaijan to Nakhchivan and further to Türkiye, while simultaneously embedding Armenia into a continental transit network.

Iran’s objections, frequently articulated by Velayati, rest on two overlapping fears. The first is geopolitical. Tehran perceives any Western-backed infrastructure near its borders as a potential platform for strategic encroachment. The language of a US foothold reflects a security mindset shaped by decades of containment and rivalry. Yet this concern appears overstated in the context of the corridor’s agreed function. The Zangazur route is designed for transport connectivity, not military deployment. Its mandate is limited to ensuring the secure movement of goods and passengers between Azerbaijan and Nakhchivan, and by extension between Asia and Europe. There is no evidence that Armenia or Azerbaijan intends to allow the corridor to be repurposed for security objectives hostile to Iran.

The second Iranian concern is economic and structural. For years, Azerbaijan has relied on Iranian territory as an alternative route to access Nakhchivan, mitigating the effects of the enclave’s blockade. This arrangement gave Iran leverage and transit revenue, as well as a degree of political relevance in Baku-Ankara connectivity. The opening of the Zangazur Corridor would significantly reduce this dependence. In that sense, Tehran’s opposition is less about regional stability and more about losing a transactional advantage. From this perspective, Velayati’s rhetoric appears defensive rather than principled, particularly when framed against Armenia’s explicit consent to the project.

Russia’s position adds another layer of complexity. Moscow views the corridor not as a threat but as an asset it does not wish to lose influence over. Its interest in acting as a stakeholder or guarantor reflects a broader strategy of maintaining leverage in the South Caucasus even as its capacity to project power is constrained elsewhere. Russia’s earlier role as the principal security arbiter after the 2020 war has been eroded by Armenia’s growing engagement with the United States and the European Union. Nevertheless, Moscow still retains tools of influence, ranging from economic ties to security arrangements and political networks within Armenia.

Armenia’s attempt to limit Russian involvement in the corridor must be understood in this context of asymmetry. Yerevan is seeking diversification rather than outright rupture. While it aims to reduce Moscow’s monopoly over its security and infrastructure, it lacks the capacity to exclude Russia entirely in the short term. The question is not whether Armenia can resist Russian influence absolutely, but whether it can dilute it sufficiently by anchoring key projects in multilateral frameworks.

The prospects of the corridor, therefore, extend beyond bilateral reconciliation. Its successful operation would reposition the South Caucasus as a functional transit hub linking East and West at a time of global fragmentation. Unlike contested or militarised corridors elsewhere, Zangazur is emerging as a peaceful route grounded in mutual economic benefit. For Armenia, it offers access, relevance, and growth. For Azerbaijan, it restores territorial continuity and strategic depth. For Western actors, it provides a sanctions-compliant pathway that bypasses Russia and Iran. For Russia, it remains a project worth influencing rather than sabotaging.

Iran stands apart in this equation, clinging to a narrative of exclusion and threat that is increasingly disconnected from regional realities. By framing the corridor as an American plot, Tehran risks marginalising itself from a transformation that is already underway. The South Caucasus is moving from a theatre of frozen conflicts to a zone of logistical competition, and connectivity rather than obstruction will define influence in the years ahead. Velayati’s anti-Zangazur thesis, repeated with growing urgency, may ultimately underline Iran’s strategic isolation more than any genuine danger posed by a railway or highway crossing southern Armenia.

As the corridor moves from concept to implementation, the region faces a clear choice. It can either remain hostage to zero-sum thinking or it can leverage geography for shared prosperity. The trajectory of Armenia suggests that even historically cautious actors are beginning to choose the latter.