For the anniversary of the independence of the First Republic proclaimed on May 28th, 1918, Armenian public television broadcast an interview with journalist and public figure Tatul Hakobyan, founder of the Ani Centre. Hakobyan reflected on the historical issues surrounding this first state of the modern era and the current challenges facing the sovereign nation. He spoke without exaggeration or partisan rhetoric. He particularly emphasized the achievements of this initial attempt and the political compromises – in the noblest sense of the term – that its leaders were compelled to make to avoid missing this unique opportunity. He also highlighted the lessons that can be drawn for today. What Tatul Hakobyan recounts is history freed from the layers of mythology that have accumulated around it over time. The circumstances that allowed Aram, Khatissian and Katchaznouni to recognize the opportunity presented by Russia’s withdrawal from the Caucasus were difficult, even critical, and more often than not painful. They managed to ‘seize fortune by the hair’, to paraphrase Machiavelli. The capacity of Armenian leaders at the time, along with military officers like Nazarbekian, proved crucial. They rapidly confronted reality and made pragmatic decisions demanded by the circumstances. This included the negotiations and signing of the Treaty of Batum in May and June 1918. Though imposed by Turkey, this treaty established the foundation of an Armenian state. Remarkably, it was conceived and ratified by what was then Turkey, the Armenian enemy. This enabled the revival of an Armenian state after centuries of absence and merely three years following the genocide. This history and these issues remain relevant for the contemporary Armenian state.
Independence in 1918: a paradoxical outcome
The question that opens the interview is simple: how could a people who had suffered genocide and lost their state for centuries proclaim their independence in 1918? Tatul Hakobyan speaks of a ‘convergence of historical circumstances’: the fall of the Russian Empire, the vacuum left in Transcaucasia (the name given at the time to the southern Caucasus), and the ultimatum issued by Ottoman forces. Armenian independence was born in this context of geopolitical turmoil, between Russian withdrawal and Turkish pressure.
Contrary to a widely held belief that emerged after the events, Armenia did not formally declare its independence on 28 May 1918. On that day, the Armenian National Council, meeting in Tiflis, in Georgia, which had just declared its independence, sent a delegation to Batumi to respond to an Ottoman ultimatum. It was not until 30 May that a text was adopted, without any explicit mention of the words ‘independence’ or ‘republic’.
Hakobyan insists that despite this omission, which reflected the fears and reservations of the Armenian political elite, the decision saved what could be saved. The state was created ‘through gritted teeth’, in conditions of urgency and survival. The conditions under which independence came about represented ‘the lesser evil’, lucidly identified as such at the time by those among the Armenian leaders who eventually rallied behind the option of an Armenian state separate from the other two members of the Transcaucasian federation. Armenia and Azerbaijan share this date of 28 May.
Military victories, diplomatic defeats: two parallel narratives
The interview looks back at the battles of Sardarapat, Bash Aparan and Gharakilisa — symbols of Armenian resistance. These difficult, unequal battles halted the Ottoman advance towards Yerevan. This achievement alone is enough to justify their place in our memories more than a century later, without the need to construct them retrospectively as victories. Hakobyan emphasises that these battles were not linked to the decision to sign the Treaty of Batumi. The treaty had been presented earlier, on 11 May 1918, even before Turkish forces had entered Eastern Armenia.
This dissociation between military struggle and diplomatic compromise provoked heated internal debates. In the Armenian National Council in Tiflis, a respected member with no party affiliation even suggested dividing the Armenian provinces between Georgia and Azerbaijan in order to avoid the complete annihilation of the Armenian people after the genocide.
Many people opposed the treaty: in a vote, eight members supported the line taken by the Armenian delegation in Batumi, while six opposed it, including revolutionary socialists, social democrats and independents.
In the end, it was two figures from the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF), Hovhannes Katchaznouni and Alexander Khatissian, who returned from the negotiations in Batumi and convinced their party to accept the Turkish conditions. The treaty was signed on June 4th. Hakobyan insists that this treaty has often been criticised, but without it, ‘there might not have been an Armenia’, either between 1918 and 1920, or perhaps as a Soviet state.
A state under constant threat
Having gained independence, the Armenian state remained extremely vulnerable, for independence is just a word, while sovereignty is the only tangible reality. In July 1918, Turkish troops attacked again and advanced from Alexandropol (now Gyumri) to Noragavit, just 7 kilometres from the Erevans railway station.
It was only thanks to the existence of the treaty and the end of the First World War, from which the Ottoman Empire emerged defeated, that this offensive was halted. This period, between May and November 1918, allowed for a temporary expansion of the territory under Armenian control, from 10,000 to 60,000 km² (defeat of the Ottoman Empire and limited British support).
Hakobyan points out that many regions now considered historically Armenian – Artashat, Gyumri, Surmalu (now Iğdır) and Lori – were not part of the territory controlled on May 28th 1918. They were only incorporated later, often after the withdrawal of the defeated Turkish forces.
A short-lived independence
Why was this hard-won independence lost in less than three years? For Hakobyan, there are many reasons and the responsibility is shared. He criticises the ARF for placing too much hope in the Treaty of Sèvres and thus failing to negotiate in time with the Turkish Kemalists.
But he also places this loss in a broader context: Azerbaijan lost its independence in April 1920, Armenia in December 1920, and Georgia in February 1921, all to the Bolsheviks. An Armenian resistance movement was organised, led by Simon Vratsian’s National Salvation Committee and mainly based in Syunik, but it was defeated a few months later. Armenia became a Soviet republic, first within a Transcaucasian Socialist Federative Republic, then as a Soviet socialist republic, on an equal footing with Azerbaijan and Georgia. ‘We were all absorbed into the Soviet Union for 70 years,’ concludes Hakobyan.
From one imperialism to another: the return of the Russian threat
The analyst draws a clear parallel with the current situation. For him, Russia’s war in Ukraine is not just a regional conflict: it is an attempt to restore a ‘USSR 2.0’, a post-imperial space under Russian domination.
If Russia emerges victorious from the war in Ukraine, its efforts in this direction in the South Caucasus will intensify in the wake of that victory. ‘The Russians will go to Georgia, Azerbaijan and Armenia, one by one.’ Far from being speculation, Hakobyan points out that internal forces in all three countries are ready to accept this domination.
It is therefore logical to note that the three South Caucasus states have a major common interest: preserving their sovereignty. Given this imperative, even conflicts as deep and deadly as those that have pitted Azerbaijan and Armenia against each other for 35 years should be put on hold. Azerbaijan, although less threatened in the immediate term, is not immune to the risk.
The lesson of the Transcaucasian exiles
Hakobyan refers to a little-known document: a photograph taken in Paris in 1928, in which the founders of the three independent republics of Transcaucasia commemorate together the tenth anniversary of their brief sovereignty.
‘They were in exile, but they were reunited. They knew that regional unity, even if impossible at the time, was a necessity.’
This memory, he believes, deserves to be revived because the shared history of loss and oppression could become a starting point for a more stable future, rather than an ideological obstacle.
The ‘real Armenia’: between idealism and realism
When asked about the ‘real Armenia’ programme promoted by Nikol Pashinyan’s government for the past 18 months and as a campaign platform for the 2026 parliamentary elections, Hakobyan expressed reservations about the credibility of those promoting it. If such a programme had been promoted before the 2020 war, he would have supported it, he said. But he believes that this discourse is inappropriate in the post-Artsakh context. In his view, Armenia should have three priorities which, if upheld and fulfilled, would constitute a ‘tour de force’:
- Preserve independence and sovereignty as much as possible
- Maintain the integrity of the territory of the Republic of Armenia
- Maintain and integrate Armenians displaced from Artsakh into the territory of the Republic of Armenia
Will Armenians know how to avoid missing this opportunity?