By Vali Kaleji

Russia and Iran are moving closer to implementing a long-negotiated natural gas agreement. Officials from both countries have confirmed that Azerbaijan has been selected as the preferred transit route for Russian gas exports to Iran, a route that recalls Iran's natural gas exports to the Soviet Union through the same corridor in the 1970s. The project will constitute part of the broader geopolitical and geoeconomic reconfiguration of Eurasia following the Ukraine war, in which Russia seeks to redefine its energy export routes while Iran seeks not only to reduce its domestic natural gas imbalance but also to strengthen its geoeconomic and transit position within regional energy networks.

BACKGROUND:

Energy cooperation between Iran and Russia dates back to the Soviet era. In January 1966, Iran and the Soviet Union signed a gas agreement under which Iran exported 10 billion cubic meters (bcm) of natural gas annually from its southern gas fields to the Soviet Caucasian republics through a pipeline terminating at Astara, now on the Iran–Azerbaijan border. In return, the Soviet Union agreed to build the Isfahan Steel Plant and the Arak Machine Manufacturing Plant. The pipeline became operational in 1970, but gas exports ceased in 1980 following the Islamic Revolution and the Iran–Iraq War. Although exports briefly resumed in 1989, the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 ended this framework of cooperation.

Rather than expanding energy ties with the Russian Federation, Iran subsequently developed cooperation with the newly independent states of Central Asia and the South Caucasus, including gas imports from Turkmenistan, oil swap arrangements with Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan, gas exports to the Nakhichevan Autonomous Republic, and the Iran–Armenia Gas-for-Electricity Swap agreement. 

Despite UN sanctions, Iran and Russia reached an “oil-for-goods” agreement in 2014 under which Russia would purchase Iranian oil in exchange for Russian goods and equipment. The arrangement lost momentum after the 2015 Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA) enabled Iran to increase oil exports and regain access to international markets. 

The U.S. withdrawal from the JCPOA in 2018 and the reimposition of sanctions, combined with Western sanctions on Russia following its invasion of Ukraine, created new incentives for bilateral energy cooperation. In July 2022, the National Iranian Oil Company (NIOC) and Russia’s Gazprom signed a US$ 40 billion memorandum of understanding covering joint investment in oil and gas projects, including gas pipelines and swap arrangements. In June 2024, Gazprom and the National Iranian Gas Company (NIGC) signed an agreement on Russian gas supplies to Iran, with Tehran aiming to import up to 20 bcm annually. During 2025, negotiations focused on pricing, financing, volumes, and transportation routes. Azerbaijan emerged as the preferred transit corridor, with Russian gas expected to enter Iran through the Astara border crossing, replicating the route used during the Soviet era. Russian Energy Minister Sergei Tsivilev confirmed this route in January 2025. Russia has proposed an initial supply of about 2 bcm annually, potentially expanding to 55 bcm in later phases.  

During a meeting with Iranian Oil Minister Mohsen Paknejad on 13 July, Tsivilev also emphasized that the main provisions of the contract had been settled, and that the agreement would be finalized in the near future. 

Azerbaijan has taken a cautious position. Unlike Russia and Iran, whose officials have repeatedly commented on the project, Baku has largely refrained from public statements regarding the proposed Russian gas exports to Iran. This silence may reflect the fact that Azerbaijan has become one of the EU's key natural gas suppliers, particularly since the outbreak of the Ukraine war, and does not wish to create the impression that it is serving as a new export route for Russian gas under the current sanctions regime. Azerbaijan may also prefer to avoid taking a public position until the commercial and legal arrangements of the project have been finalized. 

From a technical and operational perspective, two key pipelines could potentially facilitate gas supplies from Russia to Azerbaijan and Iran. The 200km Novo-Filya (Russia) – Baku Gas Pipeline was built during the Soviet era, with a capacity of 10 bcm per year. It runs along the Caspian Sea coast and can operate in reverse mode, forming part of the larger Mozdok-Hajigabul gas pipeline system. The 1,474.5km Hajigabul (Azerbaijan) – Astara – Abadan (Iran) Gas Pipeline is another Soviet-era construction, connecting Azerbaijan to Iran. It has a capacity of 10 bcm per year but is currently inactive. 

To enable significant Russian gas supplies, substantial investments in modernizing the entire pipeline system would likely be necessary. By mid-2026, imports have not yet begun, as negotiations continue over commercial terms, infrastructure development, Iran’s role in gas swaps and re-exports, and transit arrangements with Azerbaijan.

IMPLICATIONS:

The most immediate implication of the prospective Russian gas exports to Iran is its contribution to mitigating Iran’s gas imbalance in the country’s northern regions during the cold autumn and winter seasons. Although Iran possesses the world’s second-largest natural gas reserves after Russia and, in 2025, its total annual natural gas production exceeded 280 bcm, equivalent to approximately 7 percent of global natural gas production. The rapid growth in domestic consumption, the deterioration of parts of its infrastructure, two decades of extensive economic sanctions, and a lack of foreign investment in the development of gas fields and refinery capacity have created a structural imbalance between gas production and consumption. As a result, in recent years Iran has faced a daily gas shortage of 200–300 million cubic meters (mcm) during peak consumption periods. During the recent U.S. and Israeli war against Iran, parts of the South Pars gas facilities and processing plants were targeted, resulting in the loss of approximately 230 mcm of gas production capacity and further exacerbating the country’s energy imbalance. 

The gas imbalance in northern Iran is particularly acute during the cold autumn and winter seasons because most of the country’s oil and gas resources, as well as its refineries, are located in the southern regions. Hydrocarbons must therefore be transported by pipeline to Iran’s densely populated northern provinces, a process that is both costly and associated with energy losses. At the same time, Iran has not developed the oil and gas resources of the Caspian Sea for a variety of reasons. Under these circumstances, gas imports from Russia, as well as Turkmenistan, enable Iran to increase gas supplies to its northern regions during the cold autumn and winter months.

A second implication, strongly emphasized by supporters of the project in Iran, is the use of surplus Russian gas, after meeting demand in the northern regions, to increase Iran’s gas exports to Iraq, Turkey, Armenia, Pakistan, and Oman, thereby strengthening Iran’s position as a regional energy hub. The realization of this objective, however, will largely depend on a final agreement between Iran and the U.S., the lifting of UN sanctions, and the removal of unilateral U.S. sanctions against Iran.

A third implication is the deepening of strategic interdependence between the two countries. Alongside the expansion of close political relations, the conclusion of the 20-year Comprehensive Strategic Partnership Agreement between Iran and Russia, the strengthening of bilateral and multilateral economic and trade cooperation within the Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU), the International North–South Transport Corridor (INSTC), and military-defense cooperation, energy will constitute a new dimension in Tehran–Moscow relations. Nevertheless, competition between Iran and Russia in the regional gas market, particularly in the South Caucasus and especially in Armenia, cannot be overlooked in the context of routing Russian gas exports to Iran through Azerbaijan. In fact, rather than routing the pipeline through Georgia and Armenia, both of which are consumers of natural gas, Russia has opted for Azerbaijan, a producer and exporter of natural gas, in order to ensure that Gazprom’s long-term commercial interests are not threatened.

A fourth implication is the strengthening of Azerbaijan’s role and position between Iran and Russia in both transit—the International North–South Transport Corridor (INSTC)—and energy, through the export of Russian gas to Iran. This development has been shaped by a number of factors, including sanctions on both Iran and Russia, the Free Trade Agreement between Iran and the Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU), the changing geopolitical environment resulting from the war in Ukraine, the recent U.S. and Israeli war against Iran, and Iran’s growing energy imbalance. Although the fluctuating nature of Iran’s and Russia’s relations with Baku could affect the sustainability of Russian gas exports to Iran, the re-export of part of the imported gas from Iran to Pakistan, a close partner of Azerbaijan, could disincentivize Baku from disrupting or suspending Russian gas transit to Iran.

CONCLUSIONS:

Whereas Iran exported natural gas to the Soviet Union in the 1970s, this trend has reversed over the past six decades. If implemented, Russian gas exports to Iran would form part of the broader geopolitical and geoeconomic reconfiguration of Eurasia following the Ukraine war. Russia seeks to redefine its energy export routes, while Iran aims to reduce its domestic gas imbalance and strengthen its geoeconomic and transit role within regional energy networks. However, the project’s success will depend on political cooperation between Tehran and Moscow, Azerbaijan’s role as the main transit route, international sanctions, its economic viability, and developments in global energy markets. 

Within Iran, opinions on Russian gas imports remain divided. Supporters argue the project would reduce winter gas shortages in northern Iran, increase gas exports to neighboring countries, and reinforce Iran’s position as a regional energy hub. Critics, however, view Russia as Iran’s principal competitor in regional and global gas markets, noting that discounted Russian oil and gas have already displaced Iranian exports, particularly in China and India. Russia has similarly expanded its share of Iran’s steel export markets through lower prices. Consequently, if Iran–U.S. negotiations lead to sanctions relief and expanded Iranian energy exports, Russia may already have secured a significant portion of Iran’s potential export markets.

AUTHOR’S BIO: 

Vali Kaleji, based in Tehran, Iran, holds a Ph.D. in Regional Studies, Central Asian and Caucasian Studies. He has published numerous analytical articles on Eurasian issues for the Eurasia Daily Monitor, the Central Asia-Caucasus Analyst, The Middle East Institute and the Valdai Club. He can be reached at  This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. .

By Umair Jamal

The Afghan Taliban’s growing investment in drone technology is seemingly a response to their conventional military limitations. Rather than a surprising development, it reflects a broader global trend where actors with limited resources use affordable drone systems to challenge better-equipped opponents like Pakistan. This capability not only strengthens the Taliban’s asymmetric warfare options but also raises serious concerns about technology proliferation to other militant groups, including the Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), and its impact on regional stability.

BACKGROUND:

Since returning to power in August 2021, the Taliban have faced severe constraints, including the lack of a functional air force and heavy international sanctions. It seems they have turned to unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) as a feasible and cost-effective solution for surveillance and limited strike missions.

According to ACLED data, the Taliban first began using drones in a military capacity in February this year, with at least 12 recorded instances of strikes into Pakistan. These have included cross-border attacks targeting Pakistani security posts, with some attempts reaching deeper into Pakistani territory. Initially employed for propaganda, the platforms have evolved into weaponized systems.

The Taliban are actively working to build domestic drone production capabilities. Reports point to front companies such as Dinit Technology offering lucrative contracts to engineers and robotics experts in Afghanistan to join the program. Moreover, recruitment efforts have also targeted universities, with Taliban officials showing interest in student drone projects. 

The Daily Mail recently reported that the Taliban are using a former Special Air Service (SAS) base in Logar Province as the primary test site for the new drones. According to one report, the Taliban are now sourcing electronic and mechanical parts – GPS modules, electric motors, flight control systems, and sensors – from black markets and smuggling networks for these purposes as the group lacks any formal agreement with any country. Although designed for civilian use, these items are reportedly being repurposed to produce increasingly sophisticated drones capable of medium-altitude flight, reconnaissance, and precision strikes.

Local production and maintenance facilities are seemingly being established at a rapid pace. For many Afghans, these developments may be viewed with a mix of nationalist sentiment and concern about prolonged conflict as advancing drone capabilities could draw increased foreign attention and potentially intensify conflict in the region. Communities near the border regions of Pakistan and Afghanistan are already experiencing the direct effects of heightened tensions and increased militarization. 

IMPLICATIONS:

The Taliban’s drone program is a clear example of how emerging technologies enable resource-limited actors to challenge conventionally superior opponents. 

This logic has become increasingly evident during Russia’s war in Ukraine, where drones have proved highly effective against better-resourced forces. Arguably, the same advantage applies to both state and non-state actors, explaining why both the Taliban and groups like the TTP are heavily investing in drone capabilities.

For Pakistan, which has traditionally relied on conventional military superiority, this development poses a direct challenge. For instance, cross-border drone activity has already increased pressure on border defenses and air surveillance systems. 

Pakistan, like many countries heavily invested in traditional military hardware, has lagged in developing effective counter-drone technologies. Its defense doctrine and procurement have historically prioritized conventional assets such as fighter jets, tanks, and artillery systems, leaving gaps in addressing low-cost and asymmetric threats like modified commercial drones. 

This technological lag has become particularly evident in recent border incidents, where Pakistani forces have struggled to consistently detect and neutralize small and low-flying UAVs used by the Taliban and TTP. As a result, Islamabad has had to rely on ad-hoc measures and international partnerships to bolster its counter-drone capabilities, highlighting the urgent need for greater investment in specialized electronic warfare, radar systems, and drone-jamming technologies tailored to the evolving regional threat landscape.

There are concrete examples that illustrate the growing threat. For instance, the TTP has repeatedly used commercial, suicide, and quadcopter drones against Pakistani security forces in multiple operations along the border regions, demonstrating their increasing tactical sophistication. 

The conflict took a stark turn in December 2025 when the TTP formally announced the creation of its own dedicated Air Force unit. This development reflected a heavily altered operational reality on the ground. Data from Pakistan’s Inter-Services Public Relations (ISPR) acknowledged that security forces faced over 400 quadcopter and drone-related militant incidents in late 2025 alone. This sudden surge has opened critical gaps in Pakistan’s conventional military defense. While the state’s defense apparatus can effectively neutralize high-value projectiles using localized electronic jamming, it struggles against the stark asymmetry of commercial off-the-shelf drones costing a mere US$ 200 to US$ 1,000 per unit. By deploying these cheap systems at volume, the TTP usually employs saturation strategies that threaten to overwhelm the military’s conventional electronic jammers and physical defense systems.

From Pakistan’s perspective, the TTP’s growing use of drones has become a serious operational challenge for law enforcement in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP). Senior KP police officials have acknowledged that commercial and quadcopter drones are increasingly used for surveillance of security convoys and to guide suicide attacks, making traditional policing methods inadequate. At times, the TTP follow a saturation strategy, employing drones and militants armed with sophisticated infantry weapons, stretching the presence of security forces, and then attacking through heavy blasts, e.g. car bombs. 

This evolving threat has forced provincial police in Pakistan’s KP province to accelerate modernization efforts, including procurement of anti-drone systems, electronic jamming equipment, and specialized training for rapid response units. Moreover, police forces in KP province that face attacks from TTP have undertaken modernization efforts, with provincial police setting up a dedicated drone training school in Nowshera. Recently, the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Police received 76 AI-powered drones with advanced surveillance and thermal imaging technology.

The pressure from TTP drone-enabled operations has compelled law enforcement agencies to shift from conventional ground-focused tactics toward integrated counter-drone strategies, highlighting the urgent need to bridge critical capability gaps along the border regions. The Khyber Pakhtunkhwa police claimed in July that it foiled 341 drone attacks by TTP militants with the help of modern technology in the last six months.

The Afghan Taliban, for their part, have actively employed modified commercial drones not only for reconnaissance but also as counter-attack tools in response to Pakistani conventional strikes. They have publicly framed these operations as their de facto Air Force missions. For instance, the Taliban have allegedly used drones to hit ISIS-K elements in Baluchistan, reportedly in retaliation to Pakistani cross-border actions.

These drone strikes seemingly serve a dual purpose. They provide the Taliban with a much-needed ability to project strength and respond to external pressure, while also offering valuable propaganda material. For a regime facing domestic criticism for its inability to counter Pakistani incursions, drone operations have become a political lifeline as they help the Taliban portray themselves as capable defenders and boosting regime legitimacy. Repeated operations also allow the Taliban to improve target location accuracy and operational effectiveness

One of the most critical implications of this development is the extreme difficulty, perhaps impossibility, of controlling proliferation. Arguably, cheap and dual-use drone technology is far easier to acquire and modify than advanced weapons systems. Components are widely available on global black markets, with reports suggesting the Taliban acquire parts through smuggling networks, possibly involving suppliers from the broader region and beyond. International efforts to restrict access are likely to have limited impact given the commercial nature of the technology.

This proliferation risk extends beyond the Taliban. If the group continues advancing its program, expertise and components could spread to other militant factions operating from Afghan soil. This can further intensify cross-border militancy and complicate counter-terrorism efforts for Pakistan and Central Asian states.

More broadly, the program highlights the global challenge of dual-use technology proliferation. Even isolated regimes like the Taliban can develop disruptive tools through commercial channels. This adds to existing instability in South and Central Asia and tests the effectiveness of current international export control regimes.

CONCLUSIONS:

The Taliban’s pursuit of a domestic drone program represents a logical and predictable adaptation to their strategic constraints. While still evolving, these capabilities demonstrate how asymmetric tools are reshaping modern conflict. 

The spread of this technology to groups like the TTP, combined with the lag in counter-drone defenses among regional powers, creates a more dangerous security environment.

As these capabilities mature, they risk heightening border tensions, increasing militarization, and generating new challenges for stability across South and Central Asia. 

In this regard, greater international attention to monitoring dual-use technologies and fostering regional cooperation on counter-drone measures will be essential to mitigating these risks. Ultimately, the trajectory of the Taliban’s drone program may significantly influence the future security landscape of the region.

AUTHOR’S BIO: 

Umair Jamal is a Ph.D. candidate at the University of Otago, New Zealand, and an analyst at Diplomat Risk Intelligence (DRI). His research focuses on counterterrorism and security issues in Pakistan, Afghanistan, and the broader Asia region. He offers analytical consulting to various think tanks and institutional clients in Pakistan and around the world. He has published for several media outlets, including Al-Jazeera, Foreign Policy, SCMP, The Diplomat, and the Huffington Post.

By Kodirjon Eshonkulov

On July 2–3, 2026, President Shavkat Mirziyoyev paid Uzbekistan's first presidential state visit to Georgia in 23 years, elevating bilateral ties to a strategic partnership. Coming weeks after a similar upgrade with Kazakhstan and a wave of Georgian ministerial visits across Central Asia, the trip is not a bilateral curiosity but a marker of a structural shift: Central Asian states are actively re-anchoring their westward connectivity strategy in the South Caucasus, and doing so on terms decoupled from the European Union's political relationship with Tbilisi. For the future of the China–Kyrgyzstan–Uzbekistan (CKU) railway and Middle Corridor connectivity, the durability of this Caucasus terminus may matter as much as the eastern infrastructure itself.

BACKGROUND:

Uzbekistan and Georgia established diplomatic relations in 1994, formalized a year later through a Treaty of Friendship and Cooperation, and have since maintained a modest but steadily expanding relationship built on trade, direct Tashkent–Tbilisi and Tashkent–Batumi flights, and cultural exchange through Tbilisi's Georgian Cultural Center Megobroba, active since the same year. Bilateral trade reached roughly US$ 270 million by the end of 2025, a meaningful but still marginal figure relative to Uzbekistan’s overall trade portfolio. Momentum built gradually: Georgian Prime Minister Irakli Kobakhidze visited Tashkent in March 2025, and Days of Georgian Culture were held in Tashkent this past March. 

What distinguishes the July 2026 visit is both its symbolism and its timing. Mirziyoyev’s trip was the first at head-of-state level in over two decades, and it produced a Joint Declaration establishing a strategic partnership, alongside sectoral memoranda spanning economy, healthcare, agriculture, finance, customs, education, ICT, and culture. Crucially, it did not occur in isolation. It followed Georgian Dream ministers’ consecutive June visits to Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, and Kazakhstan, and preceded Kazakhstan’s own strategic partnership agreement with Georgia (signed June 30 in Astana) by only days. A visit by Turkmenistan’s president to Tbilisi is reportedly also being prepared. Taken together, this is not a single bilateral gesture but a coordinated Georgian campaign to institutionalize relations across the entire Central Asian core, and a reciprocal Central Asian interest in securing a reliable Caucasus foothold. Beyond official protocol, the visit registers concretely at the level of Uzbekistan’s exporting businesses. Investment and Trade Minister Laziz Qudratov described how domestic manufacturers in textiles, food processing, and household appliances plan to complete final production stages inside Georgia’s Poti free economic zone before re-exporting to third-country markets — a practical illustration of how exporters, not only diplomats, are recalibrating around the Caucasus route. Local reporting on the visit also cited a nearly US$ 400 million prospective portfolio of hotel and residential projects tied to the deepening exchange. Georgian President Mikheil Kavelashvili, for his part, publicly framed the partnership as reinforcing Middle Corridor connectivity between the South Caucasus and Central Asia, suggesting the recalibration is felt on both sides of the route rather than driven solely from Tashkent.

IMPLICATIONS:

The logic behind this convergence is best understood through the lens of the Middle Corridor, the Trans-Caspian trade route linking Central Asia and China to Europe via the Caspian Sea, the South Caucasus, and the Black Sea, explicitly designed to bypass Russian territory. Since 2022, the corridor has moved from a secondary alternative to a strategic necessity for Eurasian trade planners, precisely because the northern route through Russia carries mounting sanctions risk and reputational cost. For Uzbekistan, this matters concretely: the CKU railway, once operational, will generate westward-bound freight that needs a credible onward path to European markets. Georgia's Black Sea ports, Poti and Batumi, are the corridor’s terminal gateway. A CKU line that ends without a secure, upgraded, and diplomatically stable corridor beyond the Caspian is a truncated asset. Mirziyoyev’s visit, and the accompanying attention to industrial, logistics, and tourism cooperation, should be read as an attempt to secure that missing western half of the chain.

This is where the visit’s timing against Georgia’s own geopolitical trajectory becomes analytically significant. Georgia’s EU accession process has been effectively frozen since 2024, following the Georgian Dream government’s foreign-agents legislation and its own decision to suspend accession talks until 2028. The European Council has described the process as being at a “standstill,” and the EU has cut assistance and partially suspended visa facilitation. Yet, notably, working-level cooperation between Georgian officials and their EU, NATO, and U.S. counterparts has reportedly continued largely undisturbed, and Brussels has kept investing in interconnection projects that run through Georgian territory, including Black Sea undersea cable plans advanced via a Romania-Georgia memorandum earlier this year.

This produces what might be called a decoupling of infrastructural and normative logics. Political-value alignment between Tbilisi and Brussels has deteriorated, but the geographic and commercial rationale for treating Georgia as an indispensable transit state has not, incentivizing Central Asian capitals to deepen engagement with Georgia on infrastructure, trade, and logistics. This gives Tashkent room to pursue a transactional, interest-based diplomacy toward the Caucasus, a pattern consistent with Uzbekistan’s broader post-2016 foreign policy style, which has generally prioritized connectivity and economic diversification over alignment with any single bloc’s political conditionality.

Armenia constitutes another important part of the equation. Georgia is currently viewed, including by Armenian officials, as the most EU-oriented state in the South Caucasus and as a de facto gateway for Armenia’s own European aspirations. Should Armenian-Azerbaijani normalization progress, particularly regarding transit arrangements sometimes referenced as the Zangezur corridor, a second Caucasus route could eventually supplement the existing Azerbaijan–Georgia axis, further reducing Central Asia’s dependence on any single transit state and adding redundancy to the Middle Corridor architecture. For now, however, the corridor’s practical backbone remains the Azerbaijan–Georgia pairing, with Uzbekistan’s new strategic partnership effectively buying insurance on the Georgian half of that pairing.

CONCLUSIONS:

Mirziyoyev’s Tbilisi visit should not be filed away as routine diplomatic housekeeping. It is best understood as one node in a broader, near-simultaneous Central Asian recalibration toward the South Caucasus, running parallel to, and largely independent of, the EU’s own frozen political relationship with Georgia. The distinction matters: it suggests that the Middle Corridor’s institutional foundations are being built on transactional infrastructure diplomacy rather than shared democratic conditionality, a divergence that may serve Central Asian connectivity interests in the near term but could complicate future efforts to fold these corridors into EU-backed connectivity frameworks such as Global Gateway. For the CKU railway’s long-term commercial viability, the durability of Uzbekistan’s new Georgian partnership, and the corridor’s insulation from further South Caucasus political volatility, will matter as much as the completion of the tracks themselves.

AUTHOR’S BIO: 

Kodirjon Eshonkulov is an independent researcher specializing in Central Asian geopolitics, transboundary infrastructure politics, international relations with Europe and a recent graduate of Ajou University’s Graduate School of International Studies in South Korea. He was worked as a political correspondent on Uzbekistan’s social and political reforms after 2017. He has published several articles in The Times of Central Asia about Uzbekistan’s water scarcity problem and its relations with Afghan Taliban government on the Koshtepa canal. 

By Mathieu Lemoine

Armenia’s June 2026 parliamentary elections were not only a contest over government formation. It was a test of whether democratic politics can provide legitimacy for a painful post-Karabakh recalibration. Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan’s Civil Contract party won 49.81 percent of the vote, enough to continue governing, but not the two-thirds majority required to initiate constitutional change on its own. The result strengthens Pashinyan’s mandate to pursue peace with Azerbaijan and diversify Armenia’s foreign policy, but it does not remove the structural pressures shaping the South Caucasus.

BACKGROUND:

The election was Armenia’s first parliamentary vote since Azerbaijan’s 2023 takeover of Nagorno-Karabakh and the displacement of its Armenian population. It followed years of declining confidence in Russia’s security guarantees, growing Armenian engagement with the EU and the U.S., and a difficult peace process with Azerbaijan. The campaign therefore unfolded at the intersection of domestic legitimacy, post-war trauma and regional realignment.

Civil Contract’s victory confirmed that Armenian voters were not prepared to return the pre-2018 political elite to power. It also showed that Russia-oriented opposition forces, despite mobilizing dissatisfaction over Karabakh and Pashinyan’s concessions, could not convert that discontent into a governing majority. Strong Armenia received 23.29 percent of the vote, while the Armenia Alliance also remained well behind the ruling party, leaving Civil Contract with a clear lead and the ability to form a government. At the same time, the vote should not be read as a simple plebiscite on “the West.” Pashinyan campaigned on peace, sovereignty and a more balanced foreign policy, not on a clean rupture with Russia.

From an electoral perspective, the process mattered because Armenia’s foreign policy shift depends on the government’s ability to claim democratic legitimacy. International observers assessed the vote as competitive and generally well administered, while also noting a confrontational campaign environment and external pressure. Reuters also reported concerns over selective justice linked to prosecutions and arrests of opposition figures before the vote. This combination is important. The election produced a usable mandate, but not an uncontested political consensus.

IMPLICATIONS:

The first implication is that an electoral mandate is not a peace settlement. Pashinyan can now argue that voters endorsed continuity: negotiations with Azerbaijan, normalization with Türkiye and strategic diversification away from overdependence on Russia. Yet the most difficult questions remain outside the immediate reach of an ordinary parliamentary majority. Azerbaijan has demanded that Armenia amend its constitution to remove what Baku regards as an implicit reference to Nagorno-Karabakh. Pashinyan’s party did not secure the parliamentary strength needed to call a constitutional referendum on its own. This creates a gap between electoral legitimacy and constitutional capacity.

That gap will shape the next phase of negotiations. The Armenian government can continue talks, but it cannot easily present constitutional change as a purely technical step. For many Armenians, Karabakh is not only a legal issue but a national trauma. Any move perceived as closing the historical and political question of Karabakh will be vulnerable to opposition mobilization. In this sense, the election authorized a direction, but not every concession that may be required to complete it.

The second implication concerns Azerbaijan’s leverage. The vote strengthened the Armenian government domestically, but it did not alter the asymmetry created by Azerbaijan’s military advantage since 2020 and 2023. Border incidents and reports of renewed ceasefire violations, particularly around sensitive areas such as Syunik, show that negotiations continue under pressure rather than in a neutral environment. This matters because the unresolved implementation of transit arrangements, including the Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity, leaves room for competing interpretations over sovereignty, customs, security and access between Azerbaijan proper and Nakhchivan.

Armenia can endorse connectivity as part of a peace agenda. Indeed, Pashinyan’s “Crossroads of Peace” logic depends on turning Armenia from a blockaded state into a regional connector. But if transit arrangements remain ambiguous or delayed, connectivity can also become a source of coercion. Syunik is not only a transport question. It is Armenia’s southern link to Iran, a sensitive zone in Azerbaijani-Turkish strategy, and a red line for Tehran. This is why the regional significance of Armenia’s election lies less in the result itself than in whether the government can convert its mandate into enforceable arrangements that preserve Armenian sovereignty while enabling regional trade.

The third implication is that Russia’s role is weakened but not eliminated. Moscow’s credibility as Armenia’s security patron has been severely damaged since 2020 and 2023, a reassessment reflected in Pashinyan’s own statement that Armenia’s reliance on Russia for security had been a “strategic mistake.” During the election campaign, Russian pressure appeared not only as geopolitical rhetoric but as a factor in the electoral environment: observers cited public threats and trade pressure, while media reporting also pointed to information operations aimed at influencing the vote. That is precisely why the Armenian case is instructive for the wider post-Soviet space: external influence no longer operates only through formal alliances, military bases or economic dependence. It also works through the campaign environment, information space, diaspora networks and the use of economic vulnerability.

The election showed that Russian pressure can be politically counterproductive. It did not prevent Pashinyan’s victory and may have reinforced his claim to be defending Armenian sovereignty. But Russia retains tools that can complicate Armenia’s post-election trajectory. Armenia remains economically exposed to Russia through trade, energy, labor migration and remittances. It also remains formally entangled in Russian-led institutions, even as the political basis for that alignment erodes. The region is therefore not simply becoming “post-Russian.” It is becoming less ordered, less predictable and more coercive.

The fourth implication concerns the West. The EU, the U.S. and several European states have more room to support Armenia after the election. Western political backing can strengthen Armenia’s institutional resilience, reduce isolation and support negotiations. But political support is not the same as hard security guarantees. Armenia’s strategic problem is not that it has chosen one patron over another. It is that the old patron has lost legitimacy, while no new actor is prepared to replace it as a security guarantor.

This creates a difficult policy environment for Yerevan. Armenia must deepen cooperation with Western partners without provoking expectations that cannot be met. It must maintain relations with Iran without undermining its Western outreach. It must manage Russia without returning to dependency. And it must negotiate with Azerbaijan from a weaker position while persuading Armenian society that peace is not capitulation. Elections can legitimize this course, but they cannot substitute for a security architecture.

For the South Caucasus, the broader lesson is that the regional order is moving beyond Russian-centered conflict management without yet acquiring a stable replacement. Azerbaijan is more powerful. Türkiye is more central. Iran is defensive about corridor politics and border changes. Russia is weakened but still disruptive. Western actors are more present but cautious. In this environment, Armenia’s election is regionally significant because it tested whether democratic legitimacy can support a small state’s strategic adaptation under pressure.

CONCLUSIONS:

Armenia’s election should not be interpreted only as a geopolitical choice between Russia and the West. It is better understood as a case of democratic mandate under strategic constraint. Pashinyan now has renewed legitimacy to pursue peace, normalization and diversification. Yet this legitimacy does not by itself resolve the constitutional question, Azerbaijan’s leverage, Russian coercive tools, uncertainty over transit arrangements, or the lack of enforceable Western security guarantees.

The vote therefore clarifies Armenia’s direction but not its destination. It gives the government political authority to continue, but the durability of that authority will depend on whether peace and connectivity produce tangible security rather than new vulnerabilities. If Armenia can translate electoral legitimacy into a credible settlement, stronger institutions and diversified partnerships, the 2026 election may become a turning point in the South Caucasus. If not, it may be remembered as a mandate that clarified the country’s intentions without resolving the regional pressures surrounding them.

The central lesson extends beyond Armenia. In a fragmented South Caucasus, elections can authorize strategic change, but they cannot replace security architecture. Democratic legitimacy is a necessary resource for Armenia’s post-Karabakh recalibration. It is not, on its own, a guarantee that the region will become more stable.

AUTHOR’S BIO: 

Mathieu Lemoine is a governance, rule of law and public sector reform professional with experience across UNDP, USAID, OSCE, EU institutions and election observation missions. He has worked extensively on governance, elections, civil society and regional dynamics in Central Asia, Eastern Europe and the South Caucasus.