What Form of Peace?

In a rare moment of optimism, Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan and Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev signed an agreement to end three decades of conflict. In the agreement, signed at the White House on August 8, 2025, they committed to opening a highly debated transit corridor, branded the “Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity”. Hailed as a diplomatic milestone, the deal signaled a shift away from Russian influence toward deeper US engagement and offered the promise of economic gains for the region.

In September 2023, Azerbaijan’s military offensive forced more than 100,000 ethnic Armenians to flee Nagorno-Karabakh. Many relocated to Yerevan and smaller towns, arriving with limited access to housing, employment, and community support. During this period, there was no predefined peace plan or high-profile diplomatic framework directing the response. Instead, local and international NGOs, volunteer coalitions, and grassroots networks mobilized, opening shelters, delivering aid, and providing psychological and legal support. Armenian civil society thus played a leading role in addressing the most significant humanitarian challenge the country has faced in recent years.

By addressing displacement with practical support, civil society helped maintain social stability. This, in turn, created the conditions for the Armenian state to work with international partners such as the United States and the EU, and to participate in high-level exchanges, including the one at the White House that ended with an agreement.

While regional stakeholders assess the potential implications of reopened transit routes, expanded economic opportunities, and a possible recalibration of Russian influence, an important question arises: What form of peace is being pursued? The agreement’s emphasis on the “Trump Route” has prompted the criticism within civil society that economic and geopolitical considerations are being prioritized over accountability for human rights violations.

This concern is grounded in recent legislative developments: In the months preceding the summit, Armenia was advancing an amendment to its criminal code that would designate crimes against humanity as prosecutable under domestic law. Initiated after years of advocacy by Armenian civil society, this amendment aimed to establish a legal mechanism for prosecuting those responsible for the forced displacement of ethnic Armenians from Nagorno-Karabakh, as well as other systematic abuses.

Following the US-mediated agreement, the measure appears to have lost momentum and is reportedly no longer a legislative priority, potentially reflecting the political compromises required to implement the corridor project. But the sidelining of the criminal code amendment has not gone unnoticed within Armenia. For many legal advocates and human rights organizations, the measure represented a rare opportunity to establish a domestic framework for prosecuting crimes recognized under the Rome Statute, such as forced displacement. Its apparent abandonment following the peace agreement has provoked alarm that political expediency is eclipsing justice. A coalition of NGOs warned that “such a decision by the Armenian government would lead to impunity for war crimes, directly violating the country’s international commitments,” while others characterized the possibility of abandoning claims as “alarming and even dangerous”, insisting that “Armenia must not refrain from filing lawsuits against Azerbaijan.”

Civil society responses to this shift have been diverse. Human rights NGOs, bar associations, and organizations representing displaced persons have openly criticized the government’s reprioritization of the amendment, issuing statements, engaging with parliamentarians, and organizing roundtables to keep accountability on the political agenda. Some groups frame the law as integral to Armenia’s democratic consolidation, warning that ignoring it would weaken trust in institutions and alienate displaced communities. At the same time, more service-oriented organizations, focused on housing, employment, and social integration for refugees, have tended to adopt a pragmatic approach, recognizing the importance of justice mechanisms but prioritizing immediate humanitarian needs.

This divergence underscores the broader tension civil society faces in post-conflict contexts: whether to emphasize accountability at the risk of destabilizing fragile political compromises, or to focus on material needs and social stability, even if this delays justice. In Armenia, the draft law has become a case study in how international agreements can reshape domestic reform priorities, sometimes narrowing the space for rights-based initiatives. The debate within civil society reveals the difficult tradeoffs involved in sustaining both peace and justice in a highly constrained environment.

The amendment episode thus demonstrates how the peace agreement may, in practice, work against Armenia. While the accord has been celebrated internationally as a diplomatic breakthrough, its domestic consequences reveal a different story: reforms aimed at embedding accountability and addressing mass displacement have been sidelined in favor of maintaining political stability and advancing the corridor project. By deprioritizing justice mechanisms, the agreement risks reinforcing impunity for crimes committed against ethnic Armenians, undermining trust in democratic institutions, and alienating displaced communities. In this sense, the case of the amendment demonstrates how geopolitical compromises can constrain civil society-led domestic reform, leaving Armenia with short-term diplomatic gains but long-term vulnerabilities in its pursuit of a rights-based and sustainable peace.