There is a political paradox in Armenia that is becoming increasingly visible to society: the so-called opposition is not confronting the authorities — it is reinforcing them.
When Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan states that “this opposition is a gift to me,” it may sound provocative. But in truth, he is articulating a reality that many Armenians already understand. The parliamentary opposition, largely associated with Robert Kocharyan’s political camp, continues to hold onto its mandates while loudly declaring the government illegitimate. By remaining in parliament, participating in votes, collecting state salaries, and functioning within the system, it paradoxically legitimizes the very authority it claims to oppose.
If the government is criminal, as they insist — why remain part of its structure?
The answer is uncomfortable but clear: their presence is driven not by a struggle for the nation, but by a struggle for position, influence, and political survival. The rhetoric of resistance masks a deep reluctance to step outside the system that still benefits them.
Armenian society senses this with painful clarity.
For many citizens, the names of former presidents and their entourages do not evoke nostalgia for stability, but memories of corruption, suppression, inequality, and fear. The past regime is not seen as a lost golden age, but as a chapter people refuse to relive. And this sentiment plays directly into the hands of Pashinyan.
The current reality is simple: people vote not because they admire, but because they fear the alternative. The rejection of the old elites leaves voters with limited choices, and in this absence, Pashinyan becomes the lesser evil — and therefore, the default option.
The opposition has failed to reinvent itself. It has not offered a new vision, acknowledged past failures, or spoken honestly to society. Instead, it remains trapped in symbolic protests and hollow accusations, which increasingly ring as political theatre rather than conviction.
Thus, what should have been a force of change has become a stabiliser of the status quo.
This is why the Prime Minister’s words strike such a nerve: yes — this opposition is his gift. It shields him, strengthens him, and absolves him of the need to truly reform, because no credible alternative has emerged.
Armenia today finds itself between disappointment and fear, fatigue and the lack of choice. And as long as this opposition clings to its parliamentary seats while denouncing the system, it does not challenge power — it feeds it.
History, however, has a habit of asking hard questions.
And one of them will inevitably be:
If you do not stand with the people — who do you truly stand for?
By Lida Nalbandyan, Founder and CEO of Octopus Media Group