Kocharyan Must Stand Trial: Peace Does Not Erase Crimes

Author: Namiq Aliyev, Doctor of Law, Professor, Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary, Head of the Department of International Relations and Foreign Policy at the Academy of Public Administration under the President of the Republic of Azerbaijan.

There are events that historians study through documents. And there are events that entire generations do not study — they live through them.

For hundreds of thousands of Azerbaijanis, the war over Karabakh is neither a page in a textbook nor a subject of academic debate. It means lost homes, displacement, relatives who were killed, destroyed towns and villages, and years spent living as internally displaced persons. It is an experience that cannot be reduced to a single statistical figure or to one episode of military operations.

That is why the question of responsibility of those who stood at the origins of this war and led it inevitably goes far beyond the question: “Did a particular person give an order to kill a particular individual?”

In the case of Robert Kocharyan, this question is especially important.

Kocharyan did not enter the political scene after the war, nor was he merely an accidental observer of a conflict that had already taken shape. He was among the participants and leaders of the separatist movement in Karabakh during the final years of the Soviet Union. He later headed the unrecognized entity and subsequently became President of Armenia.

There is one particular feature of Kocharyan’s political trajectory that makes this issue especially significant. His political career did not end together with the Karabakh separatist movement. From a leader of the separatist regime, he became the leader of Armenia.

This means that his political biography cannot be artificially divided into two entirely unrelated parts: “Kocharyan as a Karabakh politician” and “Kocharyan as President of Armenia.” There is an evident political continuity between these periods.

A person who, in the late 1980s and early 1990s, was associated with the movement seeking the separation of Karabakh from Azerbaijan later became the head of a state directly involved in the Armenian-Azerbaijani conflict. His presidency must therefore also be assessed in the broader context of the military and political history of the conflict.

Azerbaijan does not seek, and has never sought, revenge. There is a fundamental dividing line between justice and vengeance.

Our position is that Armenians should not bear collective responsibility for the actions of Kocharyan, Sargsyan, or other political and military leaders. Responsibility must be individual.

That is precisely why the demand to hold Kocharyan accountable should not be interpreted as a demand to “punish Armenia,” as some Armenian expert circles attempt to portray it. On the contrary, such an approach makes it possible to distinguish the Armenian people from the specific individuals who made the relevant decisions.

There is, however, a critically important point: if those individuals are not held responsible for what they did, the burden of guilt will continue to be placed on the Armenian people as a whole.

Peace becomes stronger when a people no longer has to answer for its leader, and when a leader can no longer hide behind his people.

Today, as Azerbaijan and Armenia seek to open a new chapter in their relations, an uncomfortable question arises: what should be done with the past?

It cannot simply be erased. There is a temptation to say: leave it to historians. Yet peace built on oblivion may prove to be nothing more than an intermission.

A sustainable peace requires acknowledgement of what happened, REPENTANCE, the establishment of responsibility, and the restoration of justice for the victims.

That is why the idea of transferring Robert Kocharyan to Azerbaijan for investigation and trial should be considered not as an act of revenge, but as one possible symbol of a new approach to the past.

Such a step would mean that peace does not equal impunity. At the same time, it would mean something else as well: the charges must be proven in court.

Kocharyan should be held accountable not because he is Armenian, not because he is a former President of Armenia, and not because he is a political opponent of Azerbaijan. He should be held accountable, if a court establishes the case against him, for his own actions, decisions, and role in the military and political processes that led to crimes.

If the alleged crimes were committed on the territory of Azerbaijan against Azerbaijani citizens, and if the charges are brought by the Azerbaijani side on the basis of evidence gathered through its own investigation, Azerbaijan would naturally become the venue for judicial proceedings.

Moreover, Baku has already hosted a major judicial process concerning crimes allegedly committed during the Karabakh conflict. Within those proceedings, extensive testimony concerning the activities of Armenian armed formations, political leaders, and commanders has been examined.

In this respect, Kocharyan should not become an exception simply because he subsequently served as President of Armenia. Political status should not become immunity from investigation into international crimes.

Some may say: show us Kocharyan’s order for a specific killing.

But a more appropriate question can be asked: what role did Kocharyan play within the political and military-organizational system that led to war, ethnic cleansing, and the occupation of Azerbaijani territories?

That requires an entirely different scale of analysis.

It encompasses the political mobilization of the late 1980s, the separatist movement, the creation of armed formations, leadership over those formations, the expulsion of the Azerbaijani population, military operations, the subsequent occupation of territories, and the political maintenance of the resulting situation.

If the evidence demonstrates that Kocharyan was among the leaders of this process, an investigation into his responsibility cannot be confined to a single episode. It must examine the entire chain of events.

The idea of extraditing Kocharyan to Baku deserves discussion — I repeat — not as an act of revenge, not as a demonstration by a victor toward the defeated, and not as a collective accusation against the Armenian people.

Rather, it should be viewed as a test of a principle that must underpin any sustainable peace: political power does not absolve an individual of responsibility for his own actions.

If Kocharyan is innocent of the crimes alleged against him, he should have the opportunity to establish this in an open and fair judicial process. If, however, an investigation and court establish his responsibility, punishment should follow regardless of how high an office he subsequently held.

In this sense, Kocharyan’s transfer to Azerbaijan could represent not a return to war but, paradoxically, an expression of a new attitude toward war.

Because genuine peace does not begin when people stop talking about crimes.

It begins when crimes cease to serve as a source of collective hatred and instead become matters of individual responsibility established through evidence and judicial proceedings.

That is why the question of Kocharyan is not merely a question about the past.

It is a question about what peace after Karabakh will look like.

The original article is available at the following link