The Caucasus Is No Longer an Arena of Proxy Confrontation

Almost simultaneously, two delegations from the South Caucasus arrived in China: Armenia’s led by its defense minister, and Azerbaijan’s headed by the prime minister. This followed the agreements reached during the SCO summit, where Beijing signaled its intent to elevate ties with both countries. Yet the makeup of these visits is telling. Azerbaijan, represented by the prime minister, is still mapping out the scope of its cooperation with China—energy, transport, transit. Armenia, by contrast, seems to have already defined the framework and is now moving toward implementation: sending the defense minister suggests a far more practical agenda.

Azerbaijan has showcased its “comprehensive strategic partnership” with Beijing. It is a grand phrase, backed by transit corridors, pipelines, and infrastructure projects. But Baku is tied too tightly to Turkey, a partner that Beijing simultaneously views as a competitor—both through NATO and Ankara’s pan-Turkic ambitions. And behind Azerbaijan looms the shadow of Israel. For this reason, the partnership, though loud, has clear limits: it remains largely an economic showcase. In return for loyalty and predictability, China offers Azerbaijan a political “umbrella” against Moscow, giving Baku room to maneuver more confidently in transit and energy.

Armenia, in contrast, signed a more modest formula—a “strategic partnership.” Yet the content runs deeper. Beijing has no shortage of its own engineers and programmers; it does not need Armenia for technical expertise. What it offers instead is an opportunity: to develop industry and technology in exchange for predictability and loyalty. Beijing understands perfectly well that Armenia belongs to the West, and not out of necessity but by nature. And precisely for that reason Armenia is useful: it can engage with China and Iran without turning the Caucasus into a frontline of global confrontation.

And this brings us to the core. For decades, the South Caucasus was a zone of proxy confrontation—West against East, the U.S. and EU against China and Russia. But that logic has broken down. Little Armenia proposed an alternative: the “Crossroads of Peace” plan, in which the region ceases to be a frontier and becomes a hub of roads and connections. For everyone, it is more profitable to build corridors than trenches.

This proposal was heard. Washington does not insist on a military presence. Beijing does not demand exclusivity. Europe, and even Russia, accept that stability here outweighs confrontation. And Armenia has been given room to act independently, because it was precisely its initiative that made this new balance possible.

The paradox is clear. Azerbaijan makes louder declarations of alliances but remains constrained in its maneuvering. Armenia speaks more quietly, but it is the one reshaping the rules. The Caucasus is no longer a chessboard of others’ conflicts but a space where roads and communication lines matter more than military blocs. And so Pashinyan’s authority is rising: he proposed what both Beijing and Washington, as well as Brussels, could accept.

A small country has convinced great powers that here it is better to build bridges than to dig trenches—and in doing so, it has overturned the very logic of the region.