Two weeks have passed since a turbulent period drew thousands into the streets and then quieted them into tranquil avenues. What began as a swirl of queues, tension, fear, and debate has faded into a heavy stillness. The city that once thrived on constant activity—shops, schools, markets, and daily bustle—now feels like a void where echoes replace crowds.
In the Nagorno-Karabakh region, the city of Stepanakert and surrounding towns stand largely deserted two weeks after Azerbaijan’s military move against Iran. The streets, once vibrant with life, are nearly empty, save for a few dogs and cats. Russian peacekeepers remain on duty, tasked with preventing a broader relapse, as their mandate centers on preserving the fragile peace from breaking apart.
Occasionally, a megaphone message from aid organizations interrupts the silence. The Red Cross urges people who can stay safe at home and those who have fled to consider their options. The organization notes that only a handful of residents remain in the area—older, ill, and without families—who cannot easily evacuate. They anticipate further steps in the days ahead.
Armenians from Nagorno-Karabakh face a dire situation, according to Armen Khachikyan, a sociologist and university professor. He points to a blockade that has restricted access to food and medicine for months, intensified by Azerbaijan’s broader offensive. Volunteer groups have mobilized to provide essentials such as food, clothing, and shelter for those displaced. The unfolding crisis has drawn sharp attention from around the world and underscores the scale of what observers call an ongoing tragedy, witnessed in real time by many.
The events unfolded rapidly on September 19, when Baku launched a large-scale operation against Nagorno-Karabakh, a region historically populated by Armenians and regarded by many as the heartland of Armenian life there, though internationally recognized as part of Azerbaijan. In a single day, the region was compelled to surrender. Armenians faced a stark choice: stay under pressure or seek refuge in Armenia. After decades of conflict and bitter memories, what followed was a mass exodus of Armenians from Karabakh, fundamentally changing the region that had housed Armenians for generations.
The consequences rippled into Armenia itself, where anger, disappointment, and shock became common emotional responses. These reactions are described as a natural, almost inevitable response to such a rapid turn of events. Richard Giragosian, director of a regional think tank in Yerevan, argues that the surrender marks not just a battlefield defeat but a broader blow to regional stability—one that could provoke backlash toward Russia, Western actors, and Karabakh elites who were seen as retreating too quickly. This sentiment risks branching into multiple directions as people reassess alliances and responsibilities.
In the eye of the hurricane
At the center of attention is the Armenian government under Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan. A significant portion of the population accuses the leadership of inaction in the face of Azerbaijani aggression. Over the past two weeks, thousands have gathered outside the prime minister’s office to protest and demand answers. A sociologist and professor who serves as a citizen observer describes his participation as a response to a critical moment for Armenia’s independence and the ongoing challenge of finding a clear path forward. The protest movement has grown, yet supporters say it remains difficult to chart a convincing way out of the crisis.
The mood in Yerevan is tense, with fear and suspicion simmering beneath the surface. Moscow, a traditional ally, has chosen not to interfere overtly in the conflict, a decision some see as a missed opportunity to curb further escalation. As the battlefield’s momentum has shifted in favor of Azerbaijan, many Armenians worry that neighboring powers and historical adversaries are not finished with the region.
Experts like Giragosian caution that Azerbaijan’s ascent on the battlefield signals a broader pattern: the use of force to achieve objectives and a demonstration that authoritarian governance can prevail over democratic processes. He notes that Turkey’s support and the perceived lack of deterrent backing from Western partners complicate the strategic landscape. Taken together, these factors create a real danger that Baku may be emboldened to continue pressing its advantage rather than seeking a pause in hostilities.
There was also a planned encounter set for Friday between Pashinyan and Azerbaijan’s president amid discussions at the European Political Community summit, with representatives from Germany, France, and the European Union in attendance. The meeting was canceled after Aliyev signaled there was nothing to discuss with parties seen as distant from the region. Turkey’s president, who had been expected to attend, chose not to participate after learning of the decision, citing the agenda as a reason.
In reflecting on these developments, observers highlight two troubling patterns. First, the manner in which power was exercised is cited as a stark example of how force can shape outcomes. Second, the episode is viewed as a demonstration of how authoritarian governance can outpace democratic expectations when regional actors align with strongarm tactics. These interpretations contribute to a broader debate about the future of peace, legitimacy, and alliance in the South Caucasus region, where yesterday’s borders and loyalties have become today’s unsettled questions.