Gabriel Gavin analyzed the fall of Nagorno-Karabakh for POLITICO, with excerpts from his upcoming book on the conflict, “Ashes of Our Fathers: Inside the Fall of Nagorno-Karabakh.”
Ruben Petrosyan was preparing for work when he heard the first explosion, marking the beginning of a significant conflict.
The father of three worked in a nondescript office building that housed Nagorno-Karabakh’s security services. For weeks, he and his colleagues sensed that something monumental was approaching. They realized it when their wives returned empty-handed after queuing for rations of bread and sour cream, and when troops along the contact line observed a substantial Azerbaijani military buildup. The pivotal moment was Tuesday, September 19, 2023, when the war erupted.
Minutes before the initial assault commenced, in the hills, volunteers and conscripts of the Nagorno-Karabakh Defence Army noticed the Russian peacekeepers, who had been positioned between them and enemy lines, hastily departing in vehicles. Across the desolate no-man’s-land, they witnessed camouflage netting being stripped from Azerbaijani military equipment and ambulances lining up on the asphalt roads leading to their positions, flanked by barbed wire and landmines.
Ruben’s wife, Nouné, had taken their two daughters to the dentist. He quickly grabbed his jacket and rushed out to collect them. An air raid siren echoed throughout the city as families scrambled to find shelter, shops shuttered their metal doors, and the streets became a scene of chaos, clogged with parents attempting to retrieve their children from schools and kindergartens. Ruben managed to find his family and escorted them to a shelter under a church adjacent to the security services building, before heading to work. Unbeknownst to them, Nouné and the children would remain there for the next six days.
As the Russians retreated from their positions — failing to uphold their commitment to protect the breakaway region after the 2020 war — Nagorno-Karabakh’s forces prepared for what would become the final battle in three decades of conflict over the territory, located within Azerbaijan’s internationally recognized borders but controlled by Armenian separatists since the Soviet Union’s collapse. Within a week, local forces were overwhelmed, and the entire populace began hastily packing to flee, taking with them whatever belongings they could fit into cars or atop buses.
The violent conclusion to Nagorno-Karabakh may have signified Russia’s waning influence following its disastrous invasion of Ukraine, but it also represented a personal defeat for then-European Council President Charles Michel. Meanwhile, Commission President Ursula von der Leyen negotiated new fossil fuel deals with Baku, while Michel attempted to mediate the conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan.
The mild-mannered Belgian, an ex-prime minister, was theoretically in charge of the EU’s foreign policy, yet often found himself sidelined. For nearly two years, whenever journalists reached out to Michel’s office regarding European affairs, they were met with a simple response: He was occupied with efforts to avert war in the South Caucasus.
In the power vacuum left by Russia’s strategic failure in its former territories, the EU saw an opportunity to assert its influence, replacing Moscow’s harsh realpolitik with humanitarian values. However, despite attempts to engage with both parties, Michel’s initiatives failed due to a fundamental misunderstanding of the situation and the stakes involved.
If Armenia and Azerbaijan were communicating, Eurocrats concluded, it implied they were not engaged in violence. In reality, both were active in hostilities. The near-daily clashes continued to claim hundreds of soldiers’ lives along the contact line, and EU officials, eager to maintain their impartial role, refrained from attributing blame. Any suggestion of criticism towards Baku was met with warnings from Azerbaijan’s commentators, asserting that the EU risked losing its perceived neutrality.
Engaging with officials in Brussels felt like entering a parallel universe where progress was always on the horizon. Careful diplomacy, they argued, was the only way to avoid misunderstandings, even when Azerbaijan launched its Two-Day War against Armenia. They insisted that the talks were promising months later, as a blockade began to starve the population.
Peace, they claimed, had never been closer—just as it appeared another war loomed on the horizon. Every move Azerbaijan made toward confrontation redefined the diplomatic landscape; while they imposed a blockade, they at least allowed the Red Cross to operate, which was seen as a positive step. Baku was acknowledged for taking steps forward, even if it only moved marginally backward.
The core issue was that those in the room lacked the qualifications to address the conflict they had immersed themselves in. Wars throughout post-World War II Europe had been managed by individual member states, the U.S., or NATO. There was a distinct lack of institutional knowledge and expertise on high-stakes foreign policy within the European Council and the European External Action Service.
In the realm of Western politics, the worst outcome previously considered was a poorly worded email upsetting an EU prime minister or an industry lobbyist. Now, they found themselves entangled in a bitter ethnic dispute, where the stakes were life and death—an unfathomable situation for diplomats accustomed to resolving issues over sandwiches in Brussels meeting rooms.
While the EU had participated in discussions over other international crises, like the Dayton Accords that concluded the Bosnian War, it had remained in the background compared to the more significant diplomatic efforts of the U.S., France, and Britain. Now, Brussels believed it had the capability to lead.
This belief was particularly strong for Michel, whose team frequently boasted of his qualifications as Belgium’s former prime minister. However, leading a small Western European nation with no notable foreign policy conflicts did not automatically equip him for the global stage. Even more concerning, he lacked authority within his own office.
As European Commission President, von der Leyen wielded far more power than Michel in his largely ceremonial role. She was determined to secure her gas agreements with Baku, regardless of how it impacted Michel’s mediation efforts. The two had a notoriously tumultuous relationship, both vying for control over crucial issues like foreign affairs. In 2021, during a meeting with Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, von der Leyen was visibly taken aback when Michel seized the only chair available across from the Turkish president, leaving her on a nearby couch.
However, as the offensive commenced, triggering the mass exodus from Nagorno-Karabakh, Michel quickly abandoned what had been his flagship issue. Following an initial call for restraint and respect for the rights of the Karabakh Armenians on Twitter, he rarely commented on the situation again.
During the 24 hours of fighting, and the subsequent four days of turmoil and uncertainty, personnel in the Nagorno-Karabakh security services endeavored to fulfill their responsibilities, coordinating responses and tracking the approaching enemy forces. Ruben Petrosyan had left the office to retrieve what he could from his home in a suburb where Azerbaijani troops had been sighted.
A suitcase sat by the door, filled with cherished photographs Nouné had taken down from the walls, along with essential documents and items for their children. It had remained there since the aftermath of the 2020 war. Friends, relatives, and colleagues were urgently contacting each other to arrange their escape. The Facebook groups that had once facilitated the exchange of scarce supplies during the blockade were now buzzing with activity.
“Does anyone have two liters of petrol? That’s how much we need to reach Kornidzor.”
“Who has a truck to transport furniture? I can pay.”
“Is anyone from Berdashen village? My mother lives there and I can’t get in touch with her.”
Having already been let down by Russia, the brutal and indifferent state that had once claimed to be their ally, other Nagorno-Karabakh Armenians began to question whether they had truly been abandoned. After 24 hours on the road fleeing their homeland, a 58-year-old former security guard named Spartak had his own inquiries.
“Everyone claims to care about us, but where are they?” he asked, seated in the tranquil garden of a hotel serving as an emergency shelter. “Where is France? Where is America? Where is Charles Michel?”
Ashes of Our Fathers: Inside the Fall of Nagorno-Karabakh is published on January 9, 2025, by Hurst and Oxford University Press.
