Armenians deserve more than a transactional peace deal with   Azerbaijan - Jirair Ratevosian 

ArmInfo.  On Aug. 8, as the White House hosted the trilateral signing of a peace agreement between Armenia, Azerbaijan and the United States, I spoke to a group of Armenian high school students from Los Angeles. We paused to watch the news conference on a laptop in the corner of our crowded room. Their faces - curious, cautious and skeptical - mirrored a sentiment across the Armenian diaspora: hope tempered by doubt, pride shadowed by mistrust, Jirair Ratevosian, former senior policy advisor for the  State Department in the Biden administration, writes in an article in  the Los Angeles Times. 

This conflict's roots run deep. After the Soviet Union collapsed,  Armenia and Azerbaijan fought a brutal war over a region within  Azerbaijan's borders but claimed by both nations. Azerbaijanis call  it Nagorno- Karabakh; Armenians call it Artsakh. A ceasefire held for  years but left core disputes unresolved - over territory, governance  and the right of self-determination for the region's Armenian  population.

War erupted again in 2020. Backed by Turkey and armed with advanced  weapons, Azerbaijan gained control of much of the disputed territory.  The Trump administration did nothing to meaningfully intervene.  For  Armenians, it was a devastating loss - of land, security, trust and  cultural heritage. For Azerbaijan, it was a political and military  victory that shifted the balance of power.

In December 2022, Azerbaijan launched a blockade of the Lachin  corridor - the only road linking Nagorno-Karabakh/Artsakh to Armenia  - tightening its grip on a region already reeling from war. For the  next 10 months, gas, electricity, internet, food and medicine were  cut off to 120,000 Armenians, many of them children and elderly.   Families rationed bread. Surgeries were postponed. Schools closed.

I visited the region during this time and stood at the Armenian end  of the corridor, where a silent convoy of trucks stretched out of  sight up the road - each loaded with food, medicine and basic  supplies, each driver knowing they might never be allowed to deliver  them. The air was heavy with frustration and helplessness. In the  limited coverage of the siege, the isolated Armenians spoke in hushed  tones, their faces drawn from months of fear and deprivation. The  International Court of Justice ordered Azerbaijan to reopen the  corridor, but Baku ignored it.

I took pride when President Biden officially recognized the Armenian  genocide - a moral milestone decades overdue. But his administration  failed to punish Azerbaijan during the blockade, and it failed to  prevent what came next: Azerbaijan's full-scale military assault on  Nagorno-Karabakh/Artsakh in September 2023. The attack lasted just 24  hours but forced more than 100,000 ethnic Armenians - virtually the  entire population of the region - to flee their homes. Centuries-old  communities were emptied almost overnight, and families left behind  homes, businesses and places of worship, uncertain if they would ever  return.

I've felt conflicted watching the Trump administration's peace-making  efforts between Armenia and Azerbaijan. On one hand, I love seeing my  country, the United States, stand with Armenia and prioritize  Armenian issues on the world stage. On the other, this moment feels  hollow. And to me, this reflects a deeper problem: U.S. policy toward  the South Caucasus has long lacked consistency, accountability and  the will to confront aggressors, no matter which party is in power.  And in Washington, Armenians have few friends and weak  representation.

This agreement - like much of U.S. foreign policy in the current  administration - is unmistakably transactional. Armenia gains U.S.  security assurances and cooperation on artificial intelligence,  including support for an emerging AI hub, which is meant to anchor  its Western trajectory. Azerbaijan walks away with de facto immunity  instead of being held accountable for its actions against the  Armenians of Artsakh, as well as arms sales and a transit corridor to  Turkey. The United States gets a geopolitical trophy:  Trump's name  on the corridor to Turkey, leverage in the region and an apparent  diplomatic "win" to market at home.

But this deal is far from complete. It omits the right of return for  displaced Armenians to Artsakh, ignores the destruction of Armenians'  towns, homes and businesses, makes no commitment to preserve  Artsakh's cultural heritage and says nothing about prisoners of war.  For many in the Armenian diaspora, these are glaring and unacceptable  omissions.

On paper, the newly named Trump Route for International Peace and  Prosperity, the link from Azerbaijan to Turkey, is billed as a  neutral, cooperative route to be administered by the U.S. In reality,  it raises serious questions about Armenia's sovereignty. The corridor  will run through Armenia's southern Syunik province - its only direct  land link to Iran - and could weaken Yerevan's ability to fully  control its own borders, regulate trade and ensure unimpeded access  to a vital southern lifeline.