Azernews.Az

Akbar Novruz

Read more

Humanitarian aid rarely exists in a political vacuum. When assistance is extended selectively, prolonged indefinitely, and accompanied by the quiet collection of personal data, it ceases to be a purely charitable act. Which brings us to our main topic: Moscow’s decision to extend its “humanitarian” program for Armenians who voluntarily left Garabagh is not simply about food parcels or solidarity. It is about preserving leverage, influence, and relevance in a region where Russia’s role has visibly eroded.

The project aimed at supporting Armenians who left Garabagh, implemented in Armenia by Rossotrudnichestvo in cooperation with the non-profit organisation Eurasia and the Russian Humanitarian Mission, has now been extended until at least 2026. Officially, the extension is explained by the “continued flow of applications.” In practice, however, it reflects Russia’s determination to keep the Garabagh issue alive as a political and informational instrument, long after the conflict itself has been resolved.

Deputy Head of Rossotrudnichestvo Igor Chayka openly stated that the project was planned as a long-term initiative and that its purpose is to demonstrate “Russia’s solidarity with the Garabagh Armenians.” This wording is revealing. Solidarity here is not framed in universal humanitarian terms, but through a specific political and identity-based lens, one that deliberately preserves a narrative of grievance and dependency.

More troubling are reports that Rossotrudnichestvo has been collecting personal data from Armenians who left Garabagh. According to sources close to the Armenian government, beneficiaries are asked to submit copies of passports, birth certificates, and other sensitive documents, ostensibly as part of the aid process. While data collection can be standard in humanitarian work, the scale, depth, and lack of transparency surrounding this effort raise legitimate concerns, especially given Russia’s long record of instrumentalising diaspora communities for political leverage.

This brings the discussion to the central question: what is Moscow really seeking to achieve?

One explanation is reputational repair. Russia’s standing in Armenian society has deteriorated sharply in recent years, particularly after failing to meet Yerevan’s expectations during critical moments. Food packages and aid programs may serve as a low-cost attempt to restore a sense of relevance and benevolence among a disillusioned population. Another explanation is electoral. With parliamentary elections scheduled in Armenia in June, humanitarian activity that targets a politically sensitive group could indirectly bolster pro-Kremlin forces that openly advocate a return to the old Yerevan–Moscow alignment.

The intense interest in the personal data of Armenians who left Garabagh is hardly accidental in this context. For decades, this community has functioned as a political asset for Moscow, a group that can be mobilised rhetorically, socially, and, when needed, politically. Today, some of the most vocal figures associated with this group openly declare that their ultimate objective is the removal of Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan. Against this backdrop, Russia’s sustained engagement looks less like charity and more like strategic positioning.

What is perhaps most striking is the restrained reaction from the Armenian authorities. This is the same government whose own attempt to send humanitarian aid to the Garabagh Armenians in the past was blocked by Azerbaijan because no such assistance had been requested. Today, despite technical expressions of concern, Yerevan has largely avoided confrontation on this issue. The reason appears pragmatic. Pashinyan has recently made it clear that removing the Garabagh issue from Armenia’s political agenda is essential for advancing the peace process. Openly challenging Moscow’s actions could complicate that goal.

For Russia, however, keeping the Garabagh topic alive is strategically convenient. It weakens Pashinyan’s position domestically, fuels dissatisfaction among segments of Armenian society, and helps mobilise the Armenian diaspora in Russia against the current political course in Yerevan. In the event of a power shift, this very issue could once again be activated as leverage.

Distributing food is, in itself, a commendable act. But in geopolitics, context matters more than packaging. When humanitarian assistance is prolonged indefinitely, accompanied by sensitive data collection, and aligned with political timelines, it ceases to be just about helping people. In this case, the real story is not about aid deliveries, but about how humanitarian language is being used to preserve influence, shape narratives, and prepare for political contingencies.

In the case of Russia, though, it is quite handy to have this issue of Garabagh lingering in the background. It shakes the position of Pashinyan, fuels dissatisfaction with some layers of Armenian society, and helps to energise the Armenian diaspora in Russia against the current political trajectory in Yerevan. In the case of a change of power, this issue might again come to the foreground as leverage.

In such a scenario, the story is actually about using the vocabulary of humanitarian assistance. The question, then, is not whether there is a distribution of food, but why it is being distributed in such a way, for such a long period, by whom.