From Velvet Revolution to selective justice

As a former mayor of Pasadena who helped deepen our sister city relationship with Vanadzor, and as the firstborn son of an Armenian Genocide survivor, I have long viewed Armenia’s democratic journey as both a personal and communal responsibility. My experience as a prosecutor and public official has taught me that the true measure of a system is not the absence of accusations, but whether the law is applied evenly. The 2018 Velvet Revolution raised genuine hopes that Armenia could break from post-Soviet patterns of oligarchic control and build accountable institutions. Eight years later, after the June 7, 2026, parliamentary elections in which Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan’s Civil Contract party secured roughly 49.9% of the vote and retained a governing majority, those hopes face a harder test. The real test for Armenia is whether relative regional openness can mature into durable, institutionalized democracy — or whether selective justice and executive dominance will hollow it out from within. Armenia remains the most open political system in the South Caucasus. In Freedom House’s Freedom in the World 2026 report, it scores 54 out of 100 and is rated “Partly Free,” with 23 out of 40 on political rights and 31 out of 60 on civil liberties. That score has held steady and places Armenia ahead of Georgia (51/100, also Partly Free but declining) and far ahead of Azerbaijan (6/100, Not Free). Turkey scores in the low 30s and is classified Not Free; Iran ranks lower still. Relative to its neighbors, Armenia still permits competitive multiparty elections, a more pluralistic media environment and greater space for civil society. These gains are real and hard-won. A 48-point gap with Azerbaijan matters. Yet a stalled score and democratic erosion nearby do not guarantee progress at home. The 2026 campaign illustrated both the achievement and the strain. Civil Contract prevailed. Strong Armenia finished second with about 23%. The Armenia Alliance, which included the historic Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF-Dashnaktsutyun) and was led by former President Robert Kocharyan, received nearly 10% and 12 seats. International observers found election day procedures largely orderly. They also recorded a troubling preelection environment: numerous criminal proceedings, most targeting opposition candidates and activists on vote buying and related charges. Dozens faced detention or house arrest. The concentration of cases on one side of the political spectrum contributed to perceptions of selective justice and chilled active campaigning. A recurring pattern has emerged. In 2025, businessman Samvel Karapetyan was detained on charges including calls to usurp power and economic crimes and has remained under extended house arrest. Senior clergy of the Armenian Apostolic Church, including Archbishop Bagrat Galstanyan and Archbishop Mikael Ajapahyan, faced arrest and, in some cases, conviction on charges related to alleged plotting or public calls to seize power. Authorities conducted raids on homes and offices of ARF members, detaining several. Locally, Vanadzor’s elected mayor, Mamikon Aslanyan, was imprisoned for more than two and a half years after defeating a ruling party candidate. Post-election actions against additional opposition figures followed a similar trajectory. Holding power to account is not the same as shielding previous elites from scrutiny. Vote buying, economic offenses and genuine threats to constitutional order are real problems in Armenian politics, and they have existed across camps for years. The standard must be the same for every political force. When investigations, raids and prolonged detention cluster around political calendars and fall overwhelmingly on government critics — including traditional national institutions such as the ARF and the church — the line between accountability and pressure blurs. Armenia’s constitution and its international obligations require that restrictions on political participation and expression be necessary, proportionate and non-discriminatory. Government officials rightly note the country’s security dilemmas after the catastrophic losses in Artsakh, the burden of integrating more than 100,000 displaced people and documented external interference, including Russian hybrid efforts and trade restrictions. Pashinyan’s mandate reflects a public preference, however contested, for pursuing peace with Azerbaijan and diversifying away from exclusive dependence on Russia. These are serious considerations. They do not, however, justify uneven application of the law. Armenia’s democratic future will turn on three related questions. First, whether the unfinished peace process with Azerbaijan produces a durable settlement that frees political energy for domestic reform, or whether it deepens polarization and legitimacy crises. Second, whether the country can move from revolutionary and personal legitimacy to institutionalized checks: an independent judiciary that applies the law evenly, a parliament that exercises genuine oversight, protected space for opposition parties and a free press able to scrutinize every side. Third, whether external partners and the diaspora insist on institutional standards rather than unconditional alignment with any single leader or camp. Armenia is not an autocracy. Competitive elections and residual civic energy still distinguish it from its neighbors. But democratic progress is reversible. The Velvet Revolution succeeded because citizens demanded accountability. The path from that hopeful rupture to the present pattern of selective justice is not inevitable — but neither is it automatically self-correcting. Pasadena’s partnership with Vanadzor was built on practical solidarity after the 1988 earthquake — heaters for kindergartens, educational exchanges and human connection across distances. That spirit still applies. True friendship includes candor about governance as well as compassion for shared history. For the Armenian diaspora, the responsibility is clear. We should continue supporting Armenia’s security, economic development and humanitarian needs. At the same time, we must use our voice, our organizations and our access to elected officials in the United States and elsewhere to insist on the same standards we demand of any democracy: equal application of the law, protection of legitimate opposition and civil society, judicial independence and space for dissent. Unconditional political endorsement of any government, regardless of its record on these principles, ultimately weakens rather than strengthens Armenia. Advocacy that prioritizes institutions over personalities and rule of law over short-term alignments, is the most durable form of support we can offer. Armenia’s people have demonstrated resilience through genocide, Soviet rule, independence and war. They have earned the right to a democracy that protects dissent as carefully as it pursues peace. Completing the unfinished journey from Velvet Revolution to genuine, even-handed justice remains the responsibility of Armenia’s leaders — and of all of us in the diaspora who claim to stand with Armenia. The views expressed by the author are his own and not those of the Los Angeles County District Attorney’s Office or the California Military Department.

From Velvet Revolution to selective justice

This story is FREE for you...

William Paparian

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

This story is FREE for you...

William Paparian

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Related Articles

Armenian seminaries: The heartbeat of the Church and the foundation of her future

In ‘Outliving Shakespeare,’ defying the final act becomes a beautiful work of art

Beyond symbolism: Building the capacity Armenia requires

Turkey, Armenia and the limits of transport-route diversification