Op-Eds
Profanity, power and the politics of distraction
Armenia is facing one of the most critical junctures in its post-independence history. The shock of losing Artsakh hasn’t faded. Tens of thousands of displaced families are still seeking stability. The country’s borders feel more vulnerable than ever. Confidence in institutions is slipping, democratic norms are wearing thin, and people are tired—angry, even. If ever there were a time for serious, steady leadership, it’s now.
Instead, its prime minister is swearing at bishops on Facebo
Or, subscribe now for unlimited access
By submitting your email address you agree for Hairenik Association, Inc. to send you communication by email.
Already a subscriber?Log in here
This story is FREE for you...
Create a free account to access this and four more articles, and get more sent to you with our e-newsletter.By submitting your email address you agree for Hairenik Association, Inc. to send you communication by email.
As far as I am concerned, it does not matter whether Armenia is facing existential threats or not. Yes, we cannot let, let alone afford representatives of Armenian institutions, be it a government or a social, a political, or a religious organization resort to profanity and provocation, which have brewing in Armenia especially after 2018 Velvet Revolution, and becoming hallmarks of Armenian landscape, from which Diaspora has not been immune. Let us resort to this, if you label a person a “humanoid”, let alone an “oughlu” or a “Turk”, expect the person to live up to that slur and act like one. It seems what works for Armenians is a tit for a tat, and even an eye for an eye, until there comes about a blinking, which has not come about yet.
Tearing the Mask Off the Moral Grandstanding
Let’s be clear from the start: no one is handing out medals for tactless language. Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan’s social media outburst was crude, unnecessary, and unbefitting of a head of government. But if you’re going to drag the man for a Facebook comment, you’d better come with clean hands. And this article? It’s soaked in selective outrage, hypocrisy, and crocodile tears.
Let’s unpack the theatrics.
The piece opens with melodrama: “Armenia is facing one of the most critical junctures in its post-independence history.” True. It is. But the implication that the nation’s biggest threat is a Facebook post is absurd. We’ve lost Artsakh, we’re navigating Russian betrayal, Turkish encirclement, and a broken regional order. And yet the writer thinks the downfall of Armenian civilization hinges on Pashinyan’s bad language? Get real.
Where was this level of righteous fury when former regimes looted Armenia blind, handed out monopolies to their friends, allowed military incompetence to fester, and filled the Church with government-backed yes-men? Suddenly now—now—we’re drawing the line at vulgarity? Please.
This article isn’t about language. It’s about power. Specifically, it’s about the power the Armenian Apostolic Church has historically enjoyed—and is now being challenged for the first time in decades. The author conveniently ignores that the Church has been a political actor for years. When Catholicos Karekin II calls for the elected leader’s resignation, that is not theology. That is politics. When Archbishop Bagrat leads anti-government protests, makes nationalist pronouncements, and functions as a de facto opposition leader, that’s not the Sermon on the Mount. That’s a campaign rally in a cassock.
And guess what? Once you enter the political ring, you don’t get to cry foul when someone punches back.
This isn’t an attack on “religion” or “faith” or “tradition.” It’s a confrontation with a power structure that for decades operated with zero transparency, zero accountability, and plenty of skeletons in the closet. Pashinyan’s mistake wasn’t that he challenged the Church. It’s that he did it in a language too raw for polite society. But let’s not confuse crassness with corruption.
The article also takes issue with Anna Hakobyan, accusing her of “weaponizing homophobia and misogyny.” Are her posts fair? Maybe not. But here’s a wild idea: criticize her statements without inventing a halo for those she’s targeting. Boris Murazi may be a journalist, but being a journalist doesn’t make you immune to criticism—or consequence. And yes, unsubstantiated claims are dangerous. But when’s the last time the Armenian Church opened itself to real scrutiny about its own internal conduct? If we want to have a conversation about standards, let’s start with institutions that have avoided them for centuries.
The hypocrisy here is suffocating.
The article decries “the collapse of public discourse,” but fails to mention how that collapse was engineered by an old elite who dominated media, Church, and judiciary for years. Now that those voices are being challenged, suddenly the pearl-clutching begins.
And the Trump comparison? That’s lazy. Pashinyan is not Trump. He doesn’t mock the disabled. He doesn’t incite white supremacists. He hasn’t spent his life trying to avoid accountability. He emerged from a peaceful revolution, dismantled oligarchic rule, and tried—however imperfectly—to make the state accountable to the people. Equating a reformist leader’s vulgar rhetoric to that of Trumpism is not just bad analysis—it’s dishonest.
Yes, words matter. But context matters more. Armenia’s challenges are not the result of social media posts—they’re the result of decades of misrule, geopolitical isolation, and an elite that refused to face reality until it was too late.
So spare us the sanctimony.
This isn’t about swearing at bishops. It’s about daring to challenge the untouchables. It’s about a government—flawed, frustrated, human—trying to survive a geopolitical nightmare while fending off opposition from the very institutions that enabled Armenia’s decline.
You can disagree with Pashinyan. You can find his tone appalling. Fine. But don’t pretend that the stakes here are moral. They are political. And moral lectures from those who sat quietly while Armenia rotted from the inside are, frankly, a joke.
Armenia doesn’t need manufactured outrage. It needs truth. Brutal, uncomfortable, unvarnished truth. The old Armenia failed. This one, vulgar as it may be, is at least fighting to build something different, something accountable and truthful.
So either join the fight—or stop pretending you’re above it.
While you raise legitimate concerns about the Church’s historical privilege and lack of accountability, your response (which even has a title! Wow!) ultimately avoids the central argument of my piece: that leadership, especially in times of national crisis, requires restraint, responsibility, and a basic standard of public discourse. No one is suggesting the Armenian Apostolic Church is beyond critique. In fact, I clearly stated that no institution should be immune to scrutiny. But what you describe as a confrontation with a power structure was, in reality, a vulgar, baseless, and reckless public attack. This wasn’t accountability; it was a spectacle designed to distract.
You argue that because the Church has been political, it deserves to be hit back in kind. That is not only a poor justification, but it also sets a dangerous precedent. Accountability does not require profanity. It requires evidence, process, and integrity. When the head of government resorts to public insults and unsubstantiated claims targeting clergy and journalists, it reflects a collapse in standards, not a bold act of reform.
You accuse me of ignoring the failures of past regimes. I have written about those failures elsewhere, and I fully agree they deserve criticism. But acknowledging past corruption does not excuse present misconduct. As for your claim that this isn’t ‘Trumpism,’ when a leader uses inflammatory language to dominate the news cycle, deflect criticism, and delegitimize opponents, the comparison is, in my opinion, valid.
You argue that Anna Hakobyan’s comments, while maybe unfair, should be seen in light of the Church’s history and Murazi’s role as a journalist. But the issue isn’t whether Murazi or the Church deserves criticism; the issue is how that criticism is expressed. What Hakobyan did wasn’t a critique–it was a baseless smear, laced with homophobia and vague threats. That kind of language isn’t holding anyone accountable; it’s weaponizing stigma to silence dissent. No one is above scrutiny, but public figures have a responsibility to raise concerns with evidence and integrity. I did not write my piece to defend individuals, but rather to call out the use of power to shame and discredit without proof.
You say Armenia doesn’t need manufactured outrage. You’re right. But it also doesn’t need more noise. And that’s precisely what this government has delivered: loud, performative outrage in place of accountability, and distraction in place of leadership. You describe it as “fighting to build something different, something accountable and truthful,” but if this is what truth and accountability look like, they come dressed in the same failures we’ve seen before, just with more vulgarity and fewer results, i.e. Dysfunction dressed up as authenticity. The displaced are still waiting for honest answers, not empty gestures. The government continues to speak of peace, yet the details remain hidden from the very public expected to bear its consequences. At the same time, across the border, the enemy’s appetite only grows, fed by silence, weakness, and mixed signals. If this is the “something different” being built, it’s hard to see where accountability or truth fit in.