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How Armenia copes with its isolation in the combustible Caucasus
The art of levitation
Nov 16th 2006 | YEREVAN
>From The Economist print edition
NOWHERE is living next to big countries trickier than in the
Caucasus. Georgia, Armenia and Azerbaijan were for centuries
swallowed by rival empires; when the last of them, the Soviet Union,
collapsed, three territorial wars broke out, all of which may yet
re-erupt. Now Georgia is in a cold war with Russia.
Next-door Armenia's geographical plight might seem the worst in the
Caucasus-or anywhere. It is landlocked and poor; of its four
borders, those with Turkey and Azerbaijan are closed following its
bloody but successful struggle for Nagorno-Karabakh, a province of
Soviet Azerbaijan mostly populated by Armenians. Its other neighbours
are Georgia (under an economic blockade by Russia) and Iran. Yet
despite the war, the economic collapse that went with it and a
terrible earthquake that preceded it, Armenia seems to have levitated
out of trouble.
It benefits from an indulgence not afforded to pro-Western Georgia.
Per person, Armenia is one of the biggest recipients of American aid
(thanks to the powerful diaspora there, which remembers vividly the
massacres of 1915). Yet that American help does not trouble Russia,
which has a military base in Armenia. GDP is growing-though still
pitifully low: monthly wages are around $150. Towns and villages in
the beautiful, barren countryside are still poor and dilapidated, but
Yerevan is full of construction cranes and posh cafes.
But levitation has its limits. After some progress in the late 1990s,
reforms have stalled. The famed cognac aside, exports are puny.
Armenia relies on foreign aid and remittances from the huge diaspora;
emigration (see article) has put the population well below the
official 2.9m figure. The international balance is also precarious.
Some in Russia want the Armenians to take sides against the
Georgians, perhaps by stirring up the Armenian minority there. "We
refuse to choose," says Vartan Oskanian, the foreign minister.
Indeed: alienating Georgia would be suicidal.
But the Kremlin's leverage is growing. Russian firms already control
the energy sector and want a greater stake elsewhere. Mr Oskanian
says "our needs today are too dire" to worry about future risks.
Azerbaijan's hydrocarbons windfall makes it sound confident, even
bellicose, stoking Armenian reliance on Russia.
American interest in the pipelines that link the Caspian to the
Mediterranean, doglegging round Armenia, mean that renewed fighting
would echo far beyond the Caucasus. Internationally sponsored talks
about Karabakh limp on-Mr Oskanian met his Azerbaijani counterpart
this week-and Western diplomats try to sound upbeat. But a deal, or
even a fudge that would at least allow normal trade relations, looks
all but impossible. Sporadic shooting continues.
One reason is that bad governments in both countries bang the
nationalist drum for want of wider legitimacy. Armenia's Robert
Kocharian has emulated his sponsors in the Kremlin, squeezing the
media and rigging elections. Corruption flourishes. It is hard to
find an Armenian politician who does not want to succeed Mr Kocharian
when his presidential term expires in 2008; it is harder still to
find one who thinks the vote will be fair. Like Ilham Aliev, who
inherited power in Azerbaijan from his father, Mr Kocharian promises
just enough change to pacify America. Unsurprisingly, considering
their history, most Armenians are too cynical to expect much better
from their rulers.
Like acrobats in a human pyramid, the Caucasus countries are
inevitably affected by their neighbours' behaviour. Russia's closure
of its border with Georgia, for example, hurts Armenian traders. Such
outsiders' jostling would be much easier to bear if the three
(relative) tiddlers had a common line. But they are all, as Raffi
Hovannisian, a former Armenian foreign minister, says of his country,
"long on civilisation, short on statecraft."
http://www.economist.com/world/ europe/displaystory.cfm?story_id=8173284
The art of levitation
Nov 16th 2006 | YEREVAN
>From The Economist print edition
NOWHERE is living next to big countries trickier than in the
Caucasus. Georgia, Armenia and Azerbaijan were for centuries
swallowed by rival empires; when the last of them, the Soviet Union,
collapsed, three territorial wars broke out, all of which may yet
re-erupt. Now Georgia is in a cold war with Russia.
Next-door Armenia's geographical plight might seem the worst in the
Caucasus-or anywhere. It is landlocked and poor; of its four
borders, those with Turkey and Azerbaijan are closed following its
bloody but successful struggle for Nagorno-Karabakh, a province of
Soviet Azerbaijan mostly populated by Armenians. Its other neighbours
are Georgia (under an economic blockade by Russia) and Iran. Yet
despite the war, the economic collapse that went with it and a
terrible earthquake that preceded it, Armenia seems to have levitated
out of trouble.
It benefits from an indulgence not afforded to pro-Western Georgia.
Per person, Armenia is one of the biggest recipients of American aid
(thanks to the powerful diaspora there, which remembers vividly the
massacres of 1915). Yet that American help does not trouble Russia,
which has a military base in Armenia. GDP is growing-though still
pitifully low: monthly wages are around $150. Towns and villages in
the beautiful, barren countryside are still poor and dilapidated, but
Yerevan is full of construction cranes and posh cafes.
But levitation has its limits. After some progress in the late 1990s,
reforms have stalled. The famed cognac aside, exports are puny.
Armenia relies on foreign aid and remittances from the huge diaspora;
emigration (see article) has put the population well below the
official 2.9m figure. The international balance is also precarious.
Some in Russia want the Armenians to take sides against the
Georgians, perhaps by stirring up the Armenian minority there. "We
refuse to choose," says Vartan Oskanian, the foreign minister.
Indeed: alienating Georgia would be suicidal.
But the Kremlin's leverage is growing. Russian firms already control
the energy sector and want a greater stake elsewhere. Mr Oskanian
says "our needs today are too dire" to worry about future risks.
Azerbaijan's hydrocarbons windfall makes it sound confident, even
bellicose, stoking Armenian reliance on Russia.
American interest in the pipelines that link the Caspian to the
Mediterranean, doglegging round Armenia, mean that renewed fighting
would echo far beyond the Caucasus. Internationally sponsored talks
about Karabakh limp on-Mr Oskanian met his Azerbaijani counterpart
this week-and Western diplomats try to sound upbeat. But a deal, or
even a fudge that would at least allow normal trade relations, looks
all but impossible. Sporadic shooting continues.
One reason is that bad governments in both countries bang the
nationalist drum for want of wider legitimacy. Armenia's Robert
Kocharian has emulated his sponsors in the Kremlin, squeezing the
media and rigging elections. Corruption flourishes. It is hard to
find an Armenian politician who does not want to succeed Mr Kocharian
when his presidential term expires in 2008; it is harder still to
find one who thinks the vote will be fair. Like Ilham Aliev, who
inherited power in Azerbaijan from his father, Mr Kocharian promises
just enough change to pacify America. Unsurprisingly, considering
their history, most Armenians are too cynical to expect much better
from their rulers.
Like acrobats in a human pyramid, the Caucasus countries are
inevitably affected by their neighbours' behaviour. Russia's closure
of its border with Georgia, for example, hurts Armenian traders. Such
outsiders' jostling would be much easier to bear if the three
(relative) tiddlers had a common line. But they are all, as Raffi
Hovannisian, a former Armenian foreign minister, says of his country,
"long on civilisation, short on statecraft."
http://www.economist.com/world/ europe/displaystory.cfm?story_id=8173284