On June 19, Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan made yet another controversial statement, claiming: “We didn’t lose Nagorno-Karabakh; we found the Republic of Armenia.” In any democracy, a remark that frames a national tragedy as a political achievement would provoke fierce debate. In Armenia, it reveals a deeper crisis: the normalization of post-truth politics as a tool to evade responsibility and reshape public perception.
Pashinyan’s remark reflects a consistent effort over the past several years to absolve the current government of responsibility for the 2020 defeat, while simultaneously constructing a myth of sovereignty born from loss. The assertion invites the public to believe that the fall of Nagorno-Karabakh was the necessary price for the birth of a truly independent Armenian state. But the premise rests on a fundamental distortion.
The 2020 war resulted in the displacement of over 100,000 Armenians from Nagorno-Karabakh, the loss of territory, the death of thousands, and the collapse of a decades-old security system. Armenia’s army was severely weakened, and its ability to deter external threats was significantly reduced. Today, the Republic of Armenia is neither more secure nor more sovereign. It remains unable to guarantee its own defense and continues to rely on external actors to safeguard its borders. In such a context, declaring that Armenia has been “found” lacks credibility. The reality on the ground directly contradicts the narrative promoted by the prime minister and his government.
Pashinyan’s statement is a clear example of post-truth rhetoric—reinterpreting undeniable facts through an emotional and symbolic lens. The tragedy is not denied; it is reframed. Defeat becomes sacrifice. Sovereignty is declared, not demonstrated.
The government’s strategic objective is evident. As long as the current leadership remains in power, the question of who lost Karabakh will continue to be a political liability. Responsibility cannot be erased, but it can be reinterpreted. By asserting that something greater was found, the government seeks to divert public discourse away from accountability and toward a narrative of national rebirth. This reframing becomes especially important as Armenia approaches the 2026 elections, where the legacy of the war will inevitably resurface as a central issue.
Yet this narrative cannot withstand serious scrutiny. The claim that the Republic of Armenia has only now been “found” ignores the concrete realities of insecurity, territorial violations, and weakened deterrence. It dismisses the fact that Armenia has yet to rebuild its military capacity and remains strategically vulnerable. Worse, it overlooks the ongoing breaches of even Armenia’s internationally recognized borders. Sovereignty is not a matter of rhetoric; it must be measured by actual capacity.
There is also the claim that Armenia “finally became sovereign” in October 2022, with the signing of the Prague Statement recognizing Azerbaijan’s territorial integrity. In reality, Armenia’s shift away from dependence on Russia did not result from a proactive foreign policy or from its defeat in the Second Karabakh War. It was a direct consequence of Russia’s war in Ukraine.
Had the war in Ukraine not occurred, there would have been no Prague Statement, no European observers, no arms purchases from India or France, and no acceleration of ties with the West. These changes were not the product of sovereign awakening but of geopolitical contingency—highly situational decisions that can be recalibrated if the external factors change.
This kind of narrative also has troubling implications for democratic accountability. By recasting failure as success, the government discourages critical scrutiny and narrows the space for alternative interpretations of recent history. Post-truth politics does not silence dissent through censorship—it renders dissent irrelevant by constructing an alternate reality in which disagreement is framed as regression.
But national recovery cannot be built on rhetorical inversion. The loss of Nagorno-Karabakh was not a foundational step toward sovereignty. It was the consequence of policy misjudgment, strategic incoherence, and the collapse of a fragile security architecture. Pretending otherwise may offer short-term political gains, but it undermines Armenia’s ability to confront its challenges and prepare for the future.
A sovereign Armenia will not emerge from narrative manipulation. It can only be built through a sober reckoning with recent history, a genuine effort to rebuild state capacity, and the political maturity to acknowledge failure without recasting it as triumph. If Armenia is to be truly “found,” it must be built, not imagined.
