The Nagorno-Karabakh Conflict as a Pillar of National Identity

The Nagorno-Karabakh conflict represents one of the most enduring and emotionally charged disputes in the post-Soviet space. For both Armenia and Azerbaijan, this territorial struggle has transcended the realm of conventional geopolitics to become a defining element of national consciousness. Understanding why this conflict carries such profound weight requires examining how each nation has woven the Karabakh question into the fabric of its historical narrative, cultural memory, and political identity. The dispute is not merely about land; it is about survival, justice, and self-determination—concepts that resonate deeply in the national psyche of both peoples.

The conflict touches upon existential questions of statehood and sovereignty. For Armenians, Nagorno-Karabakh, or Artsakh as they call it, represents the easternmost bastion of Armenian civilization, a region that has been part of the Armenian cultural and political landscape for millennia. For Azerbaijanis, the same territory, known as Daglig Garabagh, is an inalienable part of their historical homeland, a region that has been home to Azerbaijani culture and society for centuries. This fundamental contest over historical ownership and political legitimacy has made the conflict a zero-sum struggle in the eyes of many, where any concession on Karabakh is perceived as a betrayal of national identity itself.

The collapse of the Soviet Union provided the catalyst for the conflict to erupt into full-scale war, but the underlying tensions had been building for generations. The Soviet system, while suppressing open conflict, also institutionalized ethnic divisions and created administrative boundaries that would later become battle lines. The decision to grant Nagorno-Karabakh the status of an autonomous oblast within Azerbaijan, rather than attaching it to Armenia, sowed the seeds for future confrontation. As the Soviet grip weakened in the late 1980s, long-suppressed nationalist aspirations and grievances erupted with devastating consequences.

The First Nagorno-Karabakh War (1988-1994) resulted in an estimated 30,000 casualties and displaced over one million people. The Armenian victory, which resulted in Armenian control over the entire Nagorno-Karabakh region and seven surrounding Azerbaijani districts, created a new reality on the ground. This outcome fundamentally shaped the national narratives of both countries for the next three decades. For Armenia, it was a triumph of survival and historical justice; for Azerbaijan, it was a national humiliation and a wound that demanded healing. These opposing interpretations of the same historical events continue to color perceptions and policies today.

Historical Foundations: From Antiquity to the Soviet Era

The historical roots of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict extend deep into the medieval and even ancient periods, with both sides claiming the region as part of their ancestral homeland. Armenian historians point to the region being part of the Kingdom of Armenia under Tigranes the Great and later the Kingdom of Artsakh, which emerged in the early medieval period. The presence of ancient Armenian monasteries and churches, such as the 5th-century Amaras Monastery and the 7th-century Gandzasar Monastery, provides tangible evidence of a long Armenian presence. These sites are not merely religious monuments; they are symbols of continuity and historical legitimacy that underpin the Armenian claim.

Azerbaijani historians, meanwhile, trace the history of the region to the Caucasian Albanian civilization, which they consider an ancestor of modern Azerbaijani identity. They point to the presence of Turkic tribes and Azerbaijani dynasties such as the Karabakh Khanate, which was established in the 18th century. The name "Karabakh" itself is of Turkic and Persian origin, meaning "black garden." For Azerbaijanis, the Muslim and Turkic heritage of the region is as valid historically as the Armenian Christian heritage. The competing historical narratives are not just academic exercises; they are central to how each nation justifies its claim to the territory.

The Russian Empire expanded into the South Caucasus in the early 19th century, absorbing the Karabakh Khanate and the Armenian-populated areas of Eastern Armenia. The Treaty of Gulistan (1813) and the Treaty of Turkmenchay (1828) formalized Russian control over the region. During the Russian imperial period, the demographic landscape of Karabakh shifted significantly. The Russian authorities encouraged Armenian resettlement from Persia and the Ottoman Empire into the South Caucasus, including into Karabakh. This policy, combined with the exodus of Muslims, gradually changed the ethnic composition of the region.

Following the collapse of the Russian Empire in 1917, the short-lived Transcaucasian Democratic Federative Republic dissolved into separate Armenian, Azerbaijani, and Georgian republics. The First Republic of Armenia and the Azerbaijan Democratic Republic immediately clashed over Karabakh, with both claiming sovereignty. Ethnic violence erupted in 1918-1920, foreshadowing the conflicts of the late 20th century. The dispute remained unresolved when the Bolshevik Red Army invaded the South Caucasus in 1920, incorporating all three republics into the Soviet Union.

The Soviet period was decisive in shaping the modern conflict. In 1923, the Soviet authorities created the Nagorno-Karabakh Autonomous Oblast (NKAO) within the Azerbaijan SSR, despite its predominantly Armenian population (approximately 94% Armenian according to the 1926 census). This decision has been the subject of intense debate. Some historians argue it was a deliberate policy of "divide and rule" by the Soviet leadership, designed to create a source of tension that would keep both republics dependent on Moscow. Others suggest it reflected the political influence of prominent Soviet figures of Azerbaijani origin. Regardless of the motive, the decision created an institutional framework for ethnic tensions to fester.

For decades, the Armenians of Nagorno-Karabakh lived under Azerbaijani rule, experiencing what they describe as discrimination and marginalization. They felt their cultural and economic development was deliberately stifled. The use of the Armenian language in education and public life was restricted, and the region's economic infrastructure was neglected. These grievances were documented in numerous petitions sent to Moscow, but they were largely ignored. Meanwhile, Azerbaijan considered the autonomy of Nagorno-Karabakh as a generous concession to the Armenian minority and viewed any talk of secession as a violation of its territorial integrity. This fundamental asymmetry of perspectives—where one side sees oppression and the other sees privilege—continues to define the conflict.

The Armenian Perspective: Artsakh as the Heart of National Identity

For Armenia, the Nagorno-Karabakh issue is not a political dispute but an existential struggle for survival. The Armenian national narrative places Artsakh at the center of Armenian history and identity. This perspective is deeply shaped by the collective memory of the Armenian Genocide of 1915, when the Ottoman Empire systematically exterminated an estimated 1.5 million Armenians. The genocide left an indelible mark on the Armenian psyche, creating a profound sense of vulnerability and a conviction that Armenians can rely only on themselves for their survival. The Karabakh conflict is often viewed through this lens: a struggle to prevent another loss of ancestral lands and to ensure the physical and cultural survival of the Armenian people.

The victory in the First Nagorno-Karabakh War was a transformative moment for Armenian nationalism. For a nation that had experienced centuries of subjugation, genocide, and Soviet rule, the triumph of a ragtag Armenian military force over a larger, better-equipped Azerbaijani army was a source of immense pride and validation. It demonstrated that Armenians could defend themselves and reclaim what they considered rightfully theirs. The war created a cohort of veterans who became influential in public life, and the symbols of the victory—the flag of Artsakh, the images of soldiers with medieval Armenian crosses, the names of fallen commanders—became powerful elements of the national iconography.

The Armenian diaspora, estimated at 5-7 million people worldwide, played a crucial role in the conflict and in shaping Armenian nationalism. The diaspora provided financial support, political lobbying, and volunteers for the war effort. For diaspora Armenians, especially those whose families had fled the genocide, the Karabakh cause was a way to reconnect with the homeland and to contribute to the survival of the Armenian nation. Diaspora organizations, such as the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (Dashnaktsutyun) and the Armenian General Benevolent Union, made the Karabakh issue a central focus of their advocacy. The diaspora's influence on Armenian politics has been significant, often pushing for a harder line on the conflict than the government in Yerevan might otherwise adopt.

In Armenian political discourse, Nagorno-Karabakh is consistently referred to as "Artsakh," using the ancient Armenian name for the region. This linguistic choice is a deliberate assertion of historical continuity and cultural ownership. The Armenian narrative emphasizes that Artsakh was never historically part of an independent Azerbaijani state, but rather was forcibly incorporated by Soviet decree. The principle of self-determination is invoked as the legal and moral foundation for the Armenian claim. Armenians argue that the people of Artsakh have the right to determine their own political future, including the right to independence or reunification with Armenia.

The Karabakh cause also serves to unite a society that is otherwise divided by political and economic disagreements. During periods of political crisis in Armenia—such as the protests following the 2008 presidential election or the 2018 Velvet Revolution—the Karabakh issue served as a unifying rallying point. Political elites across the spectrum have been reluctant to appear "soft" on Karabakh, and any suggestion of compromise has been met with fierce resistance. This dynamic has made it difficult for Armenian leaders to explore diplomatic solutions, as the political cost of concessions is perceived as very high. The national consensus around Artsakh has been a formidable barrier to conflict resolution.

The Azerbaijani Perspective: Territorial Integrity and National Trauma

Azerbaijan's perspective on the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict is rooted in the principles of international law, territorial integrity, and national sovereignty. For Azerbaijanis, Karabakh is an integral part of their historical homeland, and the loss of control over the region and the seven surrounding districts in the 1990s is a deep national wound. The Azerbaijani narrative emphasizes that the conflict began with Armenian aggression and ethnic cleansing, resulting in the displacement of approximately 750,000 Azerbaijanis from the occupied territories. This displacement created a large community of internally displaced persons (IDPs) who have lived in temporary accommodation for decades, and their plight has been a constant reminder of the injustice of the status quo.

The Khojaly Massacre of February 1992, in which hundreds of Azerbaijani civilians were killed during the capture of the town of Khojaly by Armenian forces, occupies a central place in the Azerbaijani national narrative. The event is commemorated as a genocide and a symbol of the brutality of the Armenian forces. The massacre galvanized Azerbaijani society and became a powerful tool for nationalist mobilization. It is used in public discourse and education to illustrate the consequences of Armenian aggression and to justify the need for a strong military to reclaim the lost territories. The memory of Khojaly is kept alive through annual commemorations, monuments, and cultural works, and it serves as a constant emotional touchstone for Azerbaijani nationalism.

The conflict also shaped Azerbaijani national identity by defining the country in opposition to Armenia. The Azerbaijani state has invested heavily in promoting a national ideology that emphasizes the unity of the Azerbaijani people, the legitimacy of the state's borders, and the importance of military strength. The Karabakh issue provided a clear "other" against which Azerbaijani identity could be defined: the Armenian enemy who had occupied Azerbaijani land and committed atrocities against its people. This dichotomy was reinforced through state media, education, and cultural production, creating a national consensus around the goal of reclaiming the occupied territories.

The First Karabakh War was a traumatic experience for Azerbaijan. The country was politically unstable in the early 1990s, with a series of coups and changes in leadership. The military was poorly organized and suffered a series of defeats. The loss of Karabakh contributed to the overthrow of President Ayaz Mutalibov in 1992 and of President Abulfaz Elchibey in 1993. The rise of Heydar Aliyev, a former Soviet Politburo member and the KGB chief in Azerbaijan, brought stability and a more pragmatic approach to the conflict. Aliyev consolidated power, stabilized the military, and secured a ceasefire in 1994 that froze the conflict for nearly three decades. However, the nationalist sentiment that the war had generated remained a powerful force in Azerbaijani politics.

For Azerbaijan, the conflict was not just about Karabakh itself but about the fundamental principles of statehood. The idea that a region within a recognized state could secede by force was seen as a threat to the integrity of all post-Soviet states and to the international system more broadly. Azerbaijan framed its position as a defense of international law against Armenian revisionism. This argument resonated with many countries, particularly those with their own secessionist movements or territorial disputes. The United Nations Security Council adopted four resolutions (822, 853, 874, and 884) in 1993, calling for the immediate withdrawal of Armenian forces from the occupied territories. These resolutions provided a strong legal foundation for Azerbaijan's position and helped to isolate Armenia diplomatically.

The economic dimension also played a role in shaping Azerbaijani nationalism. The oil and gas boom of the 2000s, fueled by the Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan pipeline and other energy projects, gave Azerbaijan the resources to rebuild its military and to project power regionally. The oil wealth also reinforced a narrative of Azerbaijani success and modernity, in contrast to impoverished and isolated Armenia. This narrative contributed to a sense of national pride and confidence that the status quo was temporary and that Azerbaijan would eventually reclaim its territory through strength and determination.

The Second Karabakh War: A Turning Point

The Second Nagorno-Karabakh War, which lasted from September 27 to November 10, 2020, was a watershed event that fundamentally altered the conflict. Azerbaijan, armed with advanced Israeli and Turkish drones, precision artillery, and electronic warfare capabilities, achieved a decisive military victory in just 44 days. The Azerbaijani military recaptured the city of Shusha, the cultural and historical heart of the Karabakh region, and gained control over the seven surrounding districts that had been under Armenian occupation since 1994. The war ended with a Russian-brokered ceasefire agreement that left Azerbaijan in control of much of the territory it had lost in the 1990s.

For Azerbaijan, the victory was a moment of national catharsis. The trauma of the first war was finally healed, and the national pride that had been wounded for decades was restored. President Ilham Aliyev, who had succeeded his father Heydar in 2003, was hailed as a national hero. The victory in Karabakh became the central legitimizing narrative of his rule. The Azerbaijani government organized massive victory parades and established new national holidays, such as Victory Day on November 8. The capture of Shusha was particularly significant because of its symbolic importance: the city had been the capital of the Karabakh Khanate in the 18th century and is home to Azerbaijani cultural monuments, including the Jidir Duzu plain where horse races and festivals were traditionally held.

For Armenia, the 2020 war was a catastrophe. The swift and decisive defeat shattered the national myth of Armenian military superiority and the belief that Artsakh could be defended indefinitely. The war resulted in the deaths of thousands of Armenian soldiers and the displacement of much of the Armenian population of Nagorno-Karabakh. The ceasefire agreement was widely perceived in Armenia as a national humiliation. Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan, who had come to power in the 2018 Velvet Revolution, faced accusations of incompetence and betrayal. The defeat also had profound psychological consequences, forcing Armenians to confront the possibility that they might not be able to hold on to Artsakh forever.

The 2020 war also exposed the limitations of the Armenian diaspora's influence. Despite widespread diaspora support and fundraising, it could not compensate for the military imbalance between the two countries. Armenia's reliance on the Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO), a military alliance of post-Soviet states led by Russia, proved inadequate, as Russia chose not to intervene militarily on Armenia's behalf. This reinforced a sense of isolation and vulnerability in Armenia, and it has led to a reassessment of Armenia's foreign policy orientation, with some Armenian political figures calling for a closer alignment with the West or even a normalization of relations with Turkey.

The Post-War Situation: Fragile Peace and Ongoing Tensions

The situation following the 2020 ceasefire remains volatile and unresolved. The ceasefire agreement established a Russian peacekeeping force of approximately 2,000 soldiers to patrol the corridor connecting Armenia to Nagorno-Karabakh (the Lachin Corridor) and to maintain security in the remaining areas under Armenian control. However, the peacekeepers have been criticized by both sides for not fulfilling their mandate effectively. The agreement also required Armenia to withdraw from all seven occupied districts, which it has done, and to allow the construction of a new road connecting the Nakhchivan exclave of Azerbaijan to the main part of the country through Armenian territory (the "Zangezur Corridor"). This provision has been a source of particular tension, as Armenia fears that it could lead to a loss of sovereignty over its southern Syunik region.

The Lachin Corridor has become a flashpoint in the post-war period. In December 2022, Azerbaijani activists began a blockade of the corridor, protesting what they claimed was illegal mining and smuggling in the Karabakh region. The blockade was widely condemned by Armenia and by the International Court of Justice, which issued a ruling ordering Azerbaijan to allow unimpeded movement through the corridor. However, the blockade continued, causing a severe humanitarian crisis in Nagorno-Karabakh. The situation has further eroded trust in the Russian peacekeepers and has led to renewed fears of a resumption of hostilities.

The geopolitical context of the conflict has also evolved significantly. Russia's war in Ukraine has reduced its attention and capacity in the South Caucasus, creating a power vacuum that other actors are seeking to fill. The European Union has increased its diplomatic engagement in the region, with EU Council President Charles Michel facilitating several rounds of talks between Pashinyan and Aliyev. The United States has also become more actively involved, with Secretary of State Antony Blinken convening trilateral meetings. Turkey has strongly supported Azerbaijan's position and has made normalization of relations with Armenia conditional on a comprehensive peace agreement that includes a solution to the Karabakh issue. The involvement of these external actors complicates the conflict, as each has its own interests and priorities.

For ordinary people on both sides, the conflict remains a lived reality. In Azerbaijan, the return of IDPs to the liberated territories is a slow and complex process, with the government focusing on rebuilding infrastructure and reestablishing cultural heritage sites. However, many former residents are elderly or have established new lives elsewhere, and the psychological wounds of displacement are difficult to heal. In Armenia, the influx of refugees from Karabakh and the loss of the territory have created economic and social challenges. Many Armenian families have been directly affected by the war, and the grief and anger are palpable in public discourse. The media in both countries often perpetuate nationalist narratives that demonize the other side, making it difficult for any leader to advocate for conciliation without facing accusations of treason.

The status of Nagorno-Karabakh itself remains unresolved. The 2020 ceasefire agreement left the question of the region's political status to future negotiations. The de facto government of the Republic of Artsakh remains in place in the parts of Karabakh not captured by Azerbaijan, but it is increasingly isolated and dependent on Russian peacekeepers for its security. The prospects for a permanent settlement are uncertain. Any solution would have to address the competing claims of self-determination and territorial integrity, the security concerns of both sides, the rights of the civilian populations, and the roles of external actors. The deep historical grievances and the nationalist narratives that have been constructed around the conflict make a compromise solution politically difficult, but the alternative—an unresolved frozen conflict that periodically erupts into violence—is also dangerous and unsustainable.

The Future of Nationalism and the Karabakh Question

The Nagorno-Karabakh conflict has been one of the most powerful engines of nationalism in both Armenia and Azerbaijan. The war and the occupation shaped national identities, defined political allegiances, and provided a sense of purpose and unity for both societies. However, the outcome of the 2020 war has fundamentally altered the terrain on which these nationalisms operate. For Azerbaijan, the victory has validated a nationalist narrative centered on military strength, territorial integrity, and national pride. The question now is how Azerbaijani nationalism will evolve without the unifying goal of reclaiming lost territories. The government will need to find new sources of legitimacy and new collective projects to sustain national cohesion.

For Armenia, the defeat has forced a painful reassessment. The myth of Artsakh as an invincible bastion of Armenian identity has been shattered. The Armenian society is now divided between those who advocate for a pragmatic acceptance of the new reality and a focus on economic development and security, and those who insist on maintaining the claim to Artsakh and seek to reverse the outcome of the war through diplomacy or even renewed resistance. This debate is likely to shape Armenian politics for years to come. The Armenian diaspora, which was heavily invested in the Karabakh cause, is also in a period of soul-searching, with some groups advocating for recognition of the new reality and others calling for continued support for the Artsakh government in exile.

The role of younger generations is also significant. In both Armenia and Azerbaijan, young people have grown up in the context of a frozen conflict, with limited direct contact with the other side. Their attitudes may be more flexible than those of their parents' generation, especially if they are exposed to alternative narratives through travel, education, or the internet. However, the education systems and media in both countries continue to promote nationalist perspectives, and the lack of contact between the two societies perpetuates stereotypes and mistrust. Civil society initiatives that attempt to bring Armenians and Azerbaijanis together face significant obstacles, including government restrictions and social pressure.

The Nagorno-Karabakh conflict demonstrates how territorial disputes can become intertwined with fundamental questions of national identity. The conflict is not just about land; it is about the meaning of being Armenian or Azerbaijani, about the relationship between history and territory, and about the place of each nation in the world. The resolution of the conflict, if it comes, will not only require a political settlement but also a transformation of the nationalist narratives that have sustained the conflict for so long. This is a generational task that will require courage, leadership, and a willingness from both sides to confront the inconvenient truths of their own history.

The path forward is uncertain. The risk of renewed conflict remains high, as the unresolved status of Karabakh, the blockade of the Lachin Corridor, and the lack of a comprehensive peace agreement create conditions for miscalculation and escalation. However, there are also opportunities. The cessation of hostilities has created a window for diplomacy, and the interest of external actors—particularly the EU and the US—in a stable South Caucasus provides incentives for progress. The key question is whether the political elites and societies of both countries can move beyond the nationalist frameworks that have defined the conflict for the past three decades and embrace a vision of coexistence and mutual security.

Ultimately, the significance of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict for Armenian and Azerbaijani nationalism may lie in the lessons it offers about the dangers of intertwining national identity with territorial claims. When a nation's sense of self becomes dependent on the control of a specific piece of land, compromise becomes not just a political act but an existential threat. The challenge for both Armenia and Azerbaijan is to develop forms of national identity that are secure enough to allow for reconciliation and flexible enough to accommodate a future of peace. Whether they can meet this challenge will determine the fate of the region for generations to come.