Monetizing conscription: Armenia’s dangerous gamble with national security
In an alarming policy shift, Armenia’s government has introduced a draft law that allows citizens to buy their way out of mandatory military service—a move framed as a response to curb draft evasion but which, in essence, legalizes and monetizes it. According to the proposal, men up to the age of 32 can now opt out of the standard two-year conscription by paying approximately $63,000 for one month of service or $47,000 for four months.
This policy comes at a time when Armenia faces persistent existential threats from neighboring Azerbaijan and Turkey. Far from a solution, it represents a perilous misjudgment and a stark abdication of national responsibility. Rather than investing in modernization, rigorous training, discipline and morale—the core pillars of an effective military force—Armenia is offering an exit strategy to those who can afford it. The ramifications stretch beyond national borders, raising global concerns about militarization, equity and civic duty.
Unlike Switzerland, where financial substitution for service occurs under conditions of relative regional stability, Armenia faces an active and unresolved territorial dispute with Azerbaijan over Artsakh/Nagorno-Karabakh, with periodic outbreaks of violence. The 2020 war, which resulted in significant Armenian casualties and territorial losses, laid bare the country’s military vulnerabilities, from outdated equipment to undertrained soldiers and inadequate coordination.
Given this precarious security context, any policy that diminishes the pool of service members—particularly one that favors the wealthy—should be deemed reckless. Rather than bolstering national defense, the proposed law risks hollowing out Armenia’s armed forces, leaving service obligations to those unable to pay their way out.
Countries such as South Korea, Singapore, Switzerland and Uzbekistan allow various forms of payment to reduce or bypass conscription. However, none of these nations face the same degree of imminent threat to their territorial sovereignty. South Korea, despite its tense relationship with North Korea, maintains a disciplined conscription system with highly structured exemptions—primarily for individuals with exceptional talent in arts, sports or science, not merely those with deep pockets.
Switzerland’s militia model includes a “military exemption tax,” but this is applied within a well-functioning, balanced system of national defense. Meanwhile, in Uzbekistan, payments only serve to shorten—not eliminate—mandatory service.
Armenia’s model stands out for its audacity—treating conscription buyouts not as a last resort, but as a primary revenue stream, while effectively abandoning the principle of universal civic obligation.
This policy also institutionalizes social inequality by enabling wealthier individuals to sidestep service, leaving the burden disproportionately to working-class and rural youth. This entrenches divisions and erodes the social cohesion that conscription often seeks to build.
Military service, historically a unifying experience that crosses class lines, would become another symbol of division. In countries such as Israel or Finland, military service is seen as a rite of passage that fosters a sense of national cohesion and resilience. Putting a price tag on duty risks severing the bond between citizen and state.
Supporters of the Armenian proposal argue that the income generated from buyouts could be used to fund military modernization. Yet, in a country where corruption remains a pressing concern—Armenia ranked 62nd out of 180 countries in Transparency International’s 2023 Corruption Perceptions Index, with 0 indicating ‘highly corrupt’—there are legitimate concerns that these funds may not reach the military at all.
Just this week, a senior official from Armenia’s Investigative Committee was arrested for allegedly stealing $590,000 from a safe at a law enforcement facility in Yerevan. The cash, reportedly confiscated from criminal suspects and stored in a secure division handling financial crimes, was stolen using a fake investigator ID. According to Pastinfo.am, the suspect spent 16 hours inside the building, emptied the safe and left undetected. The case, now under investigation by Armenia’s Anti-Corruption Committee, has not resulted in the recovery of funds. Media reports suggest the suspect may be Gor Tadevosian, the acting head of an Investigative Committee division.
While the proposal outlines some mechanisms to ensure accountability and direct reinvestment into the armed forces, without full transparency the risk remains high that revenues will be siphoned off by corrupt intermediaries—further weakening Armenia’s already strained defense capabilities.
Perhaps most dangerously, this policy shift signals a retreat from the principle of self-defense. In recent years, Armenia has increasingly looked to external actors, particularly Western powers, for security guarantees—none of which have been materialized. With shifting alliances and uncertain foreign commitments, the onus remains on the Armenian state to ensure its own survival.
By creating legal mechanisms for draft evasion, Armenia weakens its sovereign capacity and risks becoming overly reliant on external powers that may not prioritize Armenian interests. Security cannot be outsourced; it must be cultivated internally through shared sacrifice, national discipline and investment in domestic capabilities.
Security cannot be outsourced; it must be cultivated internally through shared sacrifice, national discipline and investment in domestic capabilities.
Armenia’s proposed draft law—effectively monetizing conscription and legalizing draft-dodging—represents a dangerous misstep at a time when the country can least afford one. It undermines the legitimacy of the armed forces, creates deep social inequities, invites corruption and signals a deeper disengagement from the core responsibilities of statehood.
Rather than offering escape routes, the Armenian government must strengthen its national defense through inclusive service, meaningful investment in training and modernization, and policies that reinforce, rather than erode, civic duty. History has shown that no amount of money can substitute for the will and unity of a nation determined to defend itself. Armenia must choose a path that strengthens its sovereignty, not one that sells it away.
Ara Nazarian, PhD
Armenia is deteriorating again. Every Armenian youth must serve in the Army regardless
If they are rich or poor. In the old days and even now the son s of kings serve in the army.
It teachers discipline and respect, something the Armenians need to learn.
Let’s take a breath and set aside the moral panic for a moment.
The recent outrage over Armenia’s proposed military buyout policy is a classic case of missing the forest for the trees. Critics are framing this reform as an existential betrayal, a sellout to the wealthy, and a crumbling of national defense. But this narrative is riddled with hyperbole, selective comparisons, and a romanticized view of military conscription that ignores the real, lived costs of forcing young people into uniform.
Here’s the truth: this reform is not a retreat—it’s a recalibration. It’s a policy grounded in economic realism, strategic pragmatism, and a long-overdue acknowledgment that the old Soviet-style model of conscription is broken.
First: The myth of universal service as social glue is outdated
The article leans hard on the nostalgic notion that conscription somehow binds a nation together—uniting rich and poor, urban and rural. Let’s be honest: this has never been uniformly true, especially in post-Soviet states like Armenia. The idea that Armenia’s draft system was ever an equalizer is laughable to anyone who’s actually lived through it. Corruption, favoritism, and dodging service through loopholes and bribes have long been the norm. This reform doesn’t create inequality—it exposes and formalizes it in a way that makes it governable and taxable.
If you’re worried about inequality, direct your anger at the informal corruption that has allowed the well-connected to skip service for decades—not at a transparent system that lets people pay into the public good.
Second: Armenia isn’t “abandoning” defense—it’s modernizing it
Let’s talk strategy. Armenia doesn’t need more undertrained, under-equipped 18-year-olds with two weeks of weapons instruction and zero motivation. It needs fewer, better-trained professionals, better gear, and sustained investment in real capability—not just numbers.
The reform allows the state to generate revenue that can be used to professionalize the military, invest in tech, pay soldiers fairly, and reduce dependence on conscripts altogether. That’s not an abandonment of defense—it’s a pivot toward 21st-century military logic.
Ironically, the same critics decrying Armenia’s outdated military in 2020 are now upset that the government wants to overhaul it. You can’t have it both ways.
Third: Conscription as a national duty? Ask the dead.
The article peddles a moralistic vision of conscription as a “shared sacrifice”—but what about the lives shattered by it? What about the teenagers thrown onto the front lines in the 2020 war with little preparation, sent to die in an unwinnable conflict because of bureaucratic inertia and poor planning?
Is that the civic virtue we’re supposed to be glorifying?
Let’s be brutally honest: for too many Armenians, mandatory service is not a patriotic experience—it’s a traumatic one. It’s lost years, broken families, and lifelong scars. If there’s a way to offer an alternative to those who can afford it and use that money to create a leaner, smarter, voluntary force, then that’s not a betrayal—it’s progress.
Fourth: Corruption is a red herring
Yes, Armenia has corruption issues. So do most countries—especially ones recovering from oligarchic rule and war. But using isolated scandals to argue against any reform is lazy thinking. Should the Armenian government implement strict accountability mechanisms for where this money goes? Absolutely. That’s what public pressure should focus on—not gutting the policy before it even has a chance to function.
Also, corruption in the draft system already exists informally. Legalizing a path out of conscription doesn’t increase corruption—it reduces informal corruption by putting everything above board.
Fifth: This is not unique. Nor is Armenia alone in its choices.
The article tries to paint this reform as a reckless outlier. But plenty of countries—from Austria to South Korea—have some form of substitution, shortening, or financial offset. The difference is, Armenia is being honest about it. In fact, given the region’s geopolitical tension, it’s a bold move: Armenia is admitting that its current model isn’t working and is trying something different. Isn’t that the very definition of responsible governance?
If you want a military that wins wars—not just one that makes you feel patriotic—then you need to move beyond tired slogans about “shared sacrifice” and focus on outcomes. Patriotism doesn’t win battles—competence does.
Bottom line?
The proposed military buyout law is not a collapse of civic values—it’s a practical, transparent, and necessary shift toward a more sustainable defense model. It gives the government tools to raise revenue, modernize its military, and offer choice to young men who would otherwise be trapped in a broken system.
Rather than clinging to outdated, romanticized visions of conscription, we should applaud Armenia for having the courage to think differently.
This isn’t selling out the nation—it’s finally buying it some breathing room.
There ought to be more comments (articles) like Hagop’s – brilliantly approached and executed. As for the article’s author, I’d be curious to hear if he has served in the Armenian military. If he has not, he has offered less to the security of the Republic of Armenia than those who are paying the buyout. Sorry, but you have to honest with yourself before being a hero until the last Armenian conscript.
Every word you said is B.S.
No exemptions should be made for evading military service to the nation. In fact, every Diaspora son should also serve in the Armenian military instead of driving their $100K German sedans 100MPH on Glendale’s streets. Rich and Poor = serve together. No buyouts of the rich while only the poor are forced to defend their rich asses.
This is a very bad idea. While the modernization and professionalization of the Armenian military, and the deployment of professional soldiers instead of poorly trained conscripts at the frontlines (where so many of them were killed in the last war), is a must, buying ones way out of mandatory military service, will inevitably lead to a rich-poor divide, with rich and upper middle-class men paying these large sums to avoid mandatory military service, while the vast majority of Armenian young men cannot. This will cause resentment, if not demoralization, and the revenue generated from the rich and upper middle-class state-sanctioned draft dodgers, will be negligible to the Armenian military budget anyway. Uzbekistan and Turkey, are one of the most blatant examples, where the vast majority of rich and upper middle-class men, avoid mandatory military service, while the vast majority of men who are conscripted, come from the lower middle-classes and the working class. These two countries have the luxury to do so, because of their larger populations and because they don’t really face external threats, but this has resulted in a rich-poor divide. Armenia must not go down that path.
Nothing tears a nation apart more than a sense of the poor dying so their richer kin don’t have to.
Nevertheless conscription can lead to a large number of people with limited training rather than a fewer number of people with better training. Although this concept fashionable in developed military circles has come under strain with the heavy losses sustained by Russia and Ukraine and the devastating effects of drone warfare even experienced soldiers can be sitting
ducks with not always that much advantage over their less experienced kin.
Has Hagop served himself? there is the terrible risk of being an armchair as happens with all military matters .
Judging by the credentials of the author Ara it seems that he hasn’t served himself but again the risk of being an armchair..
For the context and record I haven’t served myself, indeed in the UK which has prided itself on a volunteer service has such low rates of volunteering due to disillusionment and disaffection and discord over the social issues that the government is considering to try and introduce some form of national service as a resort.
The need to modernize our military in our complex geopolitical climate is clear. However, pursuing that goal at the cost of deepening the socioeconomic divide is a dangerous and short-sighted compromise. When military service disproportionately falls on those who cannot afford to opt out – while the wealthy leverage privilege and connections to avoid it – the integrity of our national defense is undermined. This imbalance weakens morale, erodes trust within the ranks, and betrays the core principles a military is meant to uphold.
From a systems perspective, the concern is even more urgent in a country plagued by chronic widespread corruption. Adding another stream of revenue, whether through defense levies, programs, or modernization initiatives, means little without credible mechanisms to ensure transparency and accountability. In the absence of public trust, even well-intentioned reforms risk fueling further cynicism and dysfunction.
National defense is not an issue that should be reduced to a “multiple choice question” or become another wedge dividing an already fragile society. In a small nation like ours, the stakes are too high. We must not forget the painful lessons of the last Artsakh war. Even today, conversations about that conflict often devolve into blame—claims like, “[some] people didn’t even fight,” or “They abandoned their positions.” These lingering accusations reflect unresolved tensions and a deep sense of injustice.
When national service is seen as unequal, accountability falters, and fairness disappears. The consequences of a divided people, as we’ve seen, are not just moral or political, they are tangible and devastating.
Does the rich/poor divide apply to Diasporans, who expect universal standards for citizens of the Republic of Armenia but do not serve themselves?