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Ulviyya Poladova

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The debate over constitutional reform in Armenia has moved far beyond the sphere of domestic politics. Today, it represents the final and perhaps most consequential issue standing between Armenia and Azerbaijan on the path toward a comprehensive peace agreement. Although the two sides have finalised and initialled the text of a peace treaty, the Armenian Constitution remains the principal obstacle preventing its formal signing.

Constitutional reform has become one of the key conditions put forward by Baku before the peace agreement can enter into force. Azerbaijan maintains that the preamble of Armenia's current Constitution refers to the 1990 Declaration of Independence, a document containing provisions that imply territorial claims against Azerbaijan. From Azerbaijan's perspective, as long as these constitutional references remain in force, they create legal and political uncertainty that contradicts the spirit of a future peace treaty and could serve as grounds for renewed disputes in the future.

For this reason, Azerbaijan insists that the constitutional issue must be fully resolved before the final peace agreement is signed.

Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan has repeatedly acknowledged the need for constitutional reform. He recently announced that the draft of Armenia's new Constitution is expected to be published before the end of the year, explaining that its release had been postponed because of parliamentary elections and the need to organise broad public discussions.

Armenian officials have also indicated that the new Constitution will no longer contain a reference to the Declaration of Independence. Should this commitment be fulfilled, one of the principal legal obstacles to peace would effectively disappear.

However, the fundamental question remains: will Armenia ultimately adopt the new Constitution, and is the country politically prepared to take this step in the interest of lasting peace?

While Pashinyan openly supports constitutional reform and has repeatedly argued that Armenia must abandon revisionist narratives, the political reality inside the country makes this process considerably more complicated.

Following the parliamentary elections held on June 7, Pashinyan's Civil Contract party retained a parliamentary majority with 64 seats. Nevertheless, this falls short of the two-thirds majority (70 seats) required to amend the Constitution. As a result, the government cannot implement constitutional changes unilaterally and must seek support from other political forces, many of which remain sceptical or openly opposed to constitutional reform. So, domestic political resistance remains one of the principal challenges facing the Armenian leadership.

Former Speaker of the National Assembly Alen Simonyan has argued that Armenia should never maintain territorial claims against any of its neighbours. According to him, lasting peace can only be achieved by building regional relations in which no country considers attacking another.

Under Armenian law, any peace agreement must receive approval from the Constitutional Court before it can be ratified. Pashinyan has previously stated that if the Court concludes that the peace treaty contradicts the existing Constitution, he would personally initiate constitutional amendments. This creates an unusual legal and political dilemma.

Without constitutional reform, the Constitutional Court could potentially find incompatibilities between the peace treaty and the current Constitution. In such a scenario, the implementation of the agreement would become legally impossible despite the successful completion of negotiations.

Justice Minister Srbui Ghalyan noted that the draft constitution is not yet finalised, with internal deliberations still ongoing and colleagues yet to submit their feedback. But the timeline is slipping. What was promised as an imminent publication is now subject to "several weeks" of further processing and discussion. This delay, while perhaps procedurally prudent, feeds scepticism in Baku. For Azerbaijan, the timeline is not just about bureaucratic efficiency; it is a test of Yerevan’s genuine commitment to a post-conflict reality. The memory of the year-long silence following the 2020 war still lingers, and Baku is wary of another cycle of delays that could allow the momentum of the Washington meeting to dissipate.

Immediately after the end of the Second Karabakh War in 2020, Azerbaijan proposed turning the page on decades of hostility. However, this initiative remained unanswered for nearly a year.

In early 2022, Azerbaijan formally presented Armenia with five basic principles for a peace agreement, and later that year, official negotiations began.

Over time, the prospects for a comprehensive settlement became increasingly realistic. By 2024, the parties had agreed on 17 provisions of the treaty, including some of the most sensitive issues, such as mutual withdrawal of international legal claims and the commitment not to deploy foreign military forces along the interstate border.

A major breakthrough followed in March 2025, when Armenia and Azerbaijan finalised the entire text of the peace agreement. The treaty includes commitments to renounce territorial claims, refrain from actions undermining each other's territorial integrity, establish diplomatic relations, and create a bilateral commission responsible for overseeing implementation.

Another historic milestone came on August 8 in Washington, where U.S. President Donald Trump hosted Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev and Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan. During the summit, the Armenian and Azerbaijani leaders formally initialled the Agreement on Peace and the Establishment of Interstate Relations, describing the moment as historic.

The implications of the constitutional impasse extend far beyond the bilateral relationship between Armenia and Azerbaijan. The South Caucasus is at a critical juncture where the balance of power is being recalibrated. A successful peace treaty, anchored by constitutional reform in Armenia, would unlock the potential for regional connectivity, opening transport corridors and normalising trade routes that have been blocked for decades. It would solidify the role of external mediators, particularly the United States, demonstrating that high-stakes diplomacy can yield tangible results. Conversely, failure to amend the Constitution would not only stall the peace treaty but could also erode trust in international mediation efforts, potentially reigniting tensions in a region that has already endured too much violence.

At first glance, the peace agreement appears ready for signature. Yet significant political obstacles remain. Inside Armenia, constitutional reform continues to divide political opinion. Opposition parties remain critical of revising the country's founding legal document, while the government lacks the constitutional majority necessary to carry out amendments independently.

Ultimately, the equation is simple yet unforgiving: "no constitutional reform, no peace treaty." The text of the agreement may be signed, the handshakes may be photographed, and the summits may be hailed as historic, but without the amendment of Armenia’s fundamental law, the peace remains provisional. The region waits to see if Armenia’s political leadership can muster the consensus necessary to turn the page definitively, or if the ghosts of the past, enshrined in the preamble of a thirty-year-old constitution, will continue to haunt the prospects of peace in the South Caucasus. The world is watching, not just for a signature, but for the structural changes that prove the peace is built on rock, not sand.