Russia has a peculiar way of responding when relations with another country deteriorate. In simple terms, when Moscow ‘gets angry’ with a particular country, it sometimes reaches for a familiar set of political and economic pressure tools.
Europe has experienced this most visibly. As relations between Russia and the European Union deteriorated, Moscow increasingly used its gas exports as a political card. For years, European countries were vulnerable to this pressure because Russian gas was deeply embedded in their energy systems. After Russia launched its full-scale war against Ukraine, however, Europe became increasingly unwilling to accept energy blackmail. When the gas card stopped producing the desired political effect, Russian state-aligned media began producing stories and videos suggesting that Europeans would freeze during the winter without Russian gas. The predictions did not exactly age well.
There is another familiar method when Moscow’s relations with former Soviet republics deteriorate. Suddenly, agricultural products from those countries can become a matter of extraordinary concern for Russian regulators. A shipment of fruit, vegetables or other food products may unexpectedly be found to contain some supposedly problematic substance, after which restrictions or bans can appear. Armenia has recently experienced this kind of pressure.
But Russia’s approach toward Turkiye can be even more interesting.
When Moscow and Ankara enter a period of tension, the sequence sometimes appears to follow a familiar pattern: first comes criticism of Turkiye at the highest political levels, then some problem emerges concerning Turkish agricultural products, and then, for reasons that are not immediately obvious, Azerbaijan suddenly becomes a target of Russian media and political rhetoric.
What exactly does Azerbaijan have to do with a disagreement between Russia and Turkiye? Frankly, we would like to know ourselves.
There is historical precedent for this strange pattern.
Years ago, Turkiye shot down a Russian military aircraft after Ankara said the aircraft had violated Turkish airspace. I am not interested here in reopening the question of who was right and who was wrong. That is a separate debate.
What was striking, however, was what happened afterward. Russian state-aligned media suddenly began broadcasting programs targeting Azerbaijan and Azerbaijanis. The connection between the Turkish-Russian confrontation and Azerbaijan was never particularly clear. Why should a dispute between Moscow and Ankara automatically turn Azerbaijan into a subject of Russian media attacks? We never quite understood it.
Something similar appears to be happening again.
Relations between Russia and Turkiye have recently experienced a noticeable degree of tension. Against this background, reports began appearing in relatively small Turkish media outlets, particularly websites associated with the Turkish left and traditionally sympathetic to Russia, claiming that Turkiye was preparing to sell approximately $283 million worth of U.S.-made weapons to Ukraine.
The important point is not merely the figure. The important point is that the story did not initially become a major issue in Turkiye’s mainstream media. Yet Russian officials quickly began criticizing Ankara and demanding explanations over reports of a possible transfer.
Then came the familiar second act.
Once again, Kremlin-aligned media outlets began turning their attention toward Azerbaijan.
Of course, correlation is not proof of coordination. It would be irresponsible to claim that Moscow deliberately orders every critical program about Azerbaijan whenever it has a disagreement with Ankara.
And the pattern is difficult to ignore: a dispute involving Russia and Turkiye emerges; pressure and criticism against Turkiye intensify; and Azerbaijan somehow finds itself dragged into the conversation despite having no obvious connection to the original dispute.
There is a strategic explanation for why Azerbaijan could be useful in such a situation. Azerbaijan and Turkiye have exceptionally close political and strategic relations. The relationship between Baku and Ankara is not merely diplomatic; it has become one of the defining partnerships of the South Caucasus. Therefore, attacking Azerbaijan can indirectly send a message to Turkiye.
In other words, if Moscow wants to signal dissatisfaction with Ankara, it does not necessarily have to confront Ankara alone. It can also create pressure around Turkiye’s closest strategic partner.
The lesson from the past is not that every Russian action against Azerbaijani interests is necessarily political. The lesson is that Azerbaijan should remain alert to the possibility that economic and media pressure can sometimes be used as instruments of foreign policy.
And perhaps the most ironic part of the current situation is this: if Moscow is genuinely unhappy with Ankara, it would be much easier for everyone if Russia simply said so directly.
Why Azerbaijan suddenly enters the conversation is, once again, a question that remains unanswered.