The recent Armenian court ruling linked to Samvel Shahramanyan, the last representative of the now-defunct Armenian separatist administration in Karabakh, has sparked intense debate not because of its legal substance, but because of the way it has been politically framed and publicly weaponised. Although formally a domestic judicial matter, the ruling has been portrayed by certain actors as reopening questions that, in reality, have long been settled both on the ground and under international law.
This controversy has unfolded alongside street rallies by Karabakh Armenians in Yerevan, deliberately timed to coincide with the visit of US Vice President JD Vance. The synchronisation added a symbolic and emotional layer, prompting speculation about intent, political signalling and the broader impact on the fragile Armenia-Azerbaijan normalisation process.
According to Armenian activist and public figure Ishkhan Verdyan, much of the uproar stems from a fundamental misinterpretation of the case itself. As he spoke to AzerNEWS, the lawsuit filed by Shahramanyan was not about borders, sovereignty or Azerbaijan at all.
‘Since this is a rather sensitive case, it’s worth taking a closer look at the very essence of what happened. Samvel Shakhramanyan filed a lawsuit in a Yerevan court over the inclusion of language in Armenian textbooks stating that the so-called Karabakh (Artsakh) Republic ceased to exist with his signature. The essence of the lawsuit was to remove his name from the textbooks.’
The court rejected the claim, ruling that the textbooks did not contradict established facts and reflected the generally accepted position as of 2023. Verdyan stresses that the ruling did not touch on questions of sovereignty or interstate legality.
‘The court rejected Shahramanyan’s claim, stating that the textbooks’ content did not contradict established facts and was consistent with the generally accepted position as of 2023.’
The controversy, he argues, arose from selective reading of the court’s reasoning rather than from the verdict itself.
‘The key point was not only the decision itself but also its reasoning, where the court noted that decisions made under duress cannot be considered legal. This very fragment was taken out of context and used in the public rhetoric of Shahramanyan’s supporters as alleged proof that the court invalidated the signing of the document dissolving ‘Artsakh’.’
From Azerbaijan’s perspective, Verdyan underlines, the ruling has no legal or political relevance. Azerbaijan has never recognised the separatist administration in Khankendi, nor its residual structures operating in Yerevan, as legal entities capable of producing binding consequences.
‘Shahramanyan signed a decree dissolving the so-called Artsakh Republic, but for Azerbaijan, this document has no and cannot have any legal value. Azerbaijan has never considered either the separatist structures in Khankendi or their current remnants in Yerevan as legal entities whose signatures could generate legal consequences. For Baku, such an entity simply does not exist.’
Nor does the ruling alter Armenia’s own state policy.
‘Nikol Pashinyan’s statement about the need for the Republic of Armenia to renounce Artsakh clearly demonstrates that Shahramanyan’s decisions, or ‘non-decisions,’ carry no real weight in the Armenian political arena and are not the subject of state debate.’
Yet despite the formal dissolution of the entity, its former ‘institutions’ continue to operate symbolically in Yerevan-a phenomenon Verdyan describes as political inertia rather than substantive authority.
‘At the same time, a paradoxical situation persists: all ‘state’ organs of the so-called Artsakh de facto continue to exist in Yerevan. They declare political activity and hold ‘parliamentary’ and ‘state’ assemblies on Armenian territory.’
He adds that these structures exist largely in a virtual political space.
‘Thus, this quasi-state entity continues to exist in a virtual, symbolic form. Individual court decisions no longer change the essence of what is happening. The grandiose interpretation of this judicial act is more noise than a genuine change in political or legal reality.’
Verdyan warns, however, that such symbolic gestures can still carry risks for regional normalisation if misused politically. From his perspective, the deeper issue is perceptual rather than legal.
‘From a political perspective, it must be acknowledged that Armenia continues to pay no attention to how similar processes are perceived in Azerbaijan. The existence of another state-with its own interests, principles, and sovereign vision-is effectively ignored.’
He cautions that court rulings, as official state documents, can resurface in sensitive international contexts.
‘A court decision is a binding, state-issued document, reflecting the state’s position, not a private opinion. Under certain circumstances, such texts can surface in international affairs, contract disputes, or political crises, and play an extremely negative role.’
This, Verdyan argues, reflects both fragility and transition within Armenia’s current leadership.
‘This demonstrates the weakness of Nikol Pashinyan’s current position, but also the incompleteness of the process of political rethinking.’
Still, he believes that time, rather than escalation, will ultimately resolve these contradictions.
‘Inertial decisions and strange constructs will continue to emerge, but they will gradually disappear. However, this will require radical steps, which Pashinyan has so far refused to take.’
As for the rallies timed around JD Vance’s visit, Verdyan downplays their broader significance.
‘As for the rallies timed to coincide with J.D. Vance’s visit to Armenia, in my opinion, they shouldn’t be given much significance.’
He describes street protests as a routine feature of Armenian political life.
‘Street protests have long been commonplace in Armenia, and their sheer number says nothing about political dynamics.’
More revealing, he argues, is what these protests fail to achieve.
‘Even in such situations, the opposition is unable to consolidate any significant number of supporters. Consequently, this rally will likely become another passing event, incapable of influencing either the political agenda or the real processes in the country.’
In the final analysis, the Shahramanyan ruling neither revives a defunct separatist entity nor alters Armenia’s foreign policy trajectory. Instead, it exposes unresolved internal contradictions, symbolic inertia and a lingering failure to fully internalise Azerbaijan’s sovereignty over Karabakh. The surrounding noise may generate headlines, but it does not change realities on the ground.
Seen in a broader regional context, the episode also intersects with unresolved questions of displacement and historical justice. For many in Azerbaijan, these debates echo the enduring tragedy of Western Azerbaijanis-hundreds of thousands forcibly displaced from the territory of today’s Armenia during the twentieth century. Their continued exclusion, and Armenia’s reluctance to engage meaningfully with their internationally recognised right of return, remains a blind spot in discussions on reconciliation.
International human rights law affirms the right of displaced persons to return to their homes in safety and dignity. The Western Azerbaijan Community’s ‘Concept of Return’ is framed precisely on this basis, seeking a legally binding framework that enables return while respecting modern state sovereignty.
In this sense, the Shahramanyan ruling and the protests surrounding it are symptomatic of unfinished business in the South Caucasus: how to reconcile historical justice with present-day sovereignty, and how to anchor peace not only in ceasefires and agreements, but in the rights of all displaced peoples to restore their lives, heritage and communities.