The outgoing year of 2025 delivered developments in the South Caucasus that would have seemed unthinkable just a short time ago. Armenia has begun purchasing gasoline produced by Azerbaijan’s state-owned SOCAR. Earlier, it received its first shipments of Russian and Kazakh grain transited through Baku—a model that is quietly becoming the new normal. The first visit by an Armenian official to Azerbaijan also passed almost unnoticed: the latest border delimitation talks took place in Gabala, with Armenia represented by Deputy Prime Minister Mher Grigoryan.
The year’s highlight was the sides agreeing on the text of a peace treaty, which could be signed as early as 2026. Another key event was the Washington meeting where Ilham Aliyev and Nikol Pashinyan, in the presence of Donald Trump, pledged to live in peace. That gathering had little direct bearing on the treaty’s content—its signing depends on other factors. But it did formalize, for the first time on paper, the concept of the TRIPP route (the Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity)—essentially the Zangezur corridor, now under American rather than Russian oversight, and managed privately rather than by the state.
Predicting when the first train will cross the direct Armenia-Azerbaijan border is difficult. Nikol Pashinyan has promised to start construction on the Armenian section next year. Thus, even Armenia is now engaging with a project that until recently interested only Azerbaijan. Baku, at least verbally, supports restoring another railway line—the Ijevan-Gazakh route. This line lies outside the Zangezur corridor and holds greater appeal for Yerevan: it would allow Armenia to ship goods to Russia or Central Asia more simply and efficiently. But implementing it without Russia’s involvement is impossible—the entire existing Armenian rail network is owned by Russian Railways (RZhD).
Of course, these processes do not signal a sudden outbreak of affection between former adversaries. Despite the apparent thaw, Baku continues to apply serious pressure on Yerevan. For instance, it is deeply irritated by Armenia’s recent agreement with the European Union, which references Karabakh refugees (while Azerbaijani propaganda insists they left the region voluntarily). The rhetoric around «Western Azerbaijan» (meaning southern Armenia), where Baku claims Azerbaijanis deported in the late 1980s should return, has not vanished either. This narrative naturally alarms Armenia. Pashinyan believes that in exchange for his concessions, Aliyev should at least drop territorial claims in his rhetoric—especially since this is stipulated in the agreed peace treaty text.
The remarkably positive 2025 developments in South Caucasus logistics represent a new reality shaped by the victor of the 2020 war: Azerbaijan. Thanks to a protracted crisis in relations with Moscow (which persisted throughout the year and remains unresolved) and support from the Trump administration, Baku has not only consolidated its gains but moved closer to its strategic objectives. Chief among them are eliminating the entire legacy of the Karabakh conflict (such as the OSCE Minsk Group, already disbanded) and reviving Soviet-era transport links—on Baku’s terms, naturally.
Armenia stands to gain something too (at minimum, hope for lasting peace and opportunities to diversify trade), while Russia and Georgia are visibly uneasy. Both risk losing their accustomed privileges in the region.
The Georgian Factor
For now, all rail traffic between Azerbaijan and Armenia passes through Georgia—the only viable option, as no direct cross-border tracks have survived since Soviet times. There is one road crossing—the Khakari checkpoint through which Armenians fled Karabakh—but routing significant cargo volumes over it is impractical: trucks would navigate endless switchbacks in a still-desolate area.
In Soviet days, the South Caucasus boasted a complex, interconnected rail network. Links to Russia ran along two routes: via Abkhazia and Dagestan. Even more crucially, there were two outlets beyond the USSR: to Turkey from Armenia’s Gyumri (then Leninakan), and to Iran from Azerbaijan’s Julfa.
After two wars—the Georgian-Abkhaz and the First Karabakh—only fragmented remnants remained. Upon independence, Armenia retained open borders on just two of four sides: with Georgia and Iran. As a result, connectivity with its primary political and economic partner, Russia, long depended solely on Georgia’s Upper Lars checkpoint. No wonder that even after the 2008 Russia-Georgia war, the pass was closed for only 18 months—there were simply no alternatives. European goods also flowed through Georgia: first to ports like Batumi or Poti, then onward to Armenia.
Now Georgia fears losing its exclusive transit role. If the Zangezur corridor in its «Trump Route» format opens, the need for detours over Georgian mountain passes will vanish. To mitigate risks and stay competitive, Georgia is pushing ahead with a tunnel to Upper Lars. Once operational, the route will close less often due to weather—snowdrifts or ice. Latest reports suggest opening in 2028.
While improving its own infrastructure to preserve transit status seems logical, another development from Tbilisi raises serious questions. When Azerbaijan announced plans to send its first gasoline batch to Armenia, Georgian railways quoted an exorbitant transit fee: according to the pro-government outlet Minval.az, $ 92 per ton over just 111 kilometers—or 82 cents per kilometer-ton. By comparison, standard domestic rates in Georgia rarely exceed 4−5 cents. Pashinyan himself confirmed the tariff issue. This sparked renewed talk of restoring the Ijevan-Gazakh line mentioned earlier.
Ultimately, Georgia agreed to deliver one test fuel shipment to Armenia for free. But no official explanation has emerged for the initial sky-high quote. Perhaps the sudden request caught them off guard, or it was a political signal.
Even more intriguing are the latest reports: a customs terminal under construction in Abkhazia’s Gali district, right on the line with Tbilisi-controlled territory. Gali is a headache for Abkhazia’s unrecognized authorities—most residents are ethnic Georgian Mingrelians who routinely cross the boundary and hold Georgian citizenship. They are denied (or even stripped of) Abkhaz passports. Cross-border trade occurs, but informally: economic ties with Georgia are banned in Abkhazia.
Now, terminal owner Astamur Akhsalba claims it will enable goods transit from Georgia to Russia and back via Abkhazia. The news instantly fueled conspiracy theories. Amid the Georgian Dream party’s pivot toward the Kremlin, fears have arisen in Sukhumi that Moscow might eventually back restoring Georgia’s territorial integrity within internationally recognized borders—on whatever terms.
If the Adler-Zugdidi road (the first Tbilisi-controlled town on the Abkhaz border) truly reopens, it would mark another revolutionary shift in the South Caucasus, comparable to the Zangezur corridor. For now, the project seems far from reality: Georgian officials insist they have no involvement and will block any cargo to uncontrolled territory.
But the terminal was hardly built without purpose. It is likely conceived as another sanctions-evasion channel. Unrecognized Abkhazia is essentially a black hole: goods entering can be relabeled at will. Such a scheme could even benefit Georgian authorities—despite their current denials. The Abkhaz route is indeed more reliable: it hugs the Black Sea coast, free of snow or avalanches.
A Retreating Russia
As one of its closest regions transforms beyond recognition, Moscow is reduced to cautious reminders of its existence—in line with the «phantom presence» concept we have described before.
Moscow was sidelined from the «Trump Route» project? No problem: the Russian Foreign Ministry can declare readiness to «consult with Armenian partners on the initiative’s parameters and possible Russian participation.» Even more tone-deaf was the claim by Mikhail Kalugin, head of the Foreign Ministry’s Fourth CIS Department, that Moscow «continues assisting in establishing durable peace between Baku and Yerevan based on the 2020−2022 trilateral agreements.» This bears no relation to reality: the parties are resolving issues without any Russian involvement.
This reveals much about the current state of Russian influence in the South Caucasus: Moscow proved unable to impose its rules on Azerbaijan, now the undisputed master of the situation. Armenia, in its dialogue with Baku, prefers other «advocates» over Moscow.
The 2025 escalation in Baku-Moscow ties showed the Kremlin’s willingness to tolerate humiliating barbs aimed its way. Pro-Kremlin media staff and other prominent figures can still be extracted via informal swaps for high-profile Azerbaijani diaspora representatives. But for IT specialists accused of drug trafficking from Iran and online fraud, Moscow apparently could not care less—they remain in pretrial detention, their post-sentencing fate unclear.
Meanwhile, in Azerbaijan’s official narrative, the Kremlin has solidified as a hostile force—with no noticeable reaction from Moscow. A telling case is the unfolding probe in Baku against former presidential administration head Ramiz Mehdiyev. He faces unofficial accusations of treason on Moscow’s behalf and plotting a coup. Reports appear only in pro-government media, yet no official body—security services, Prosecutor General’s Office, or Foreign Ministry—comments. State agency Azertag carries not a word. Imagine Russia’s Constitutional Court chairman Valery Zorkin suddenly vanishing from public view, while Komsomolskaya Pravda, Regnum, and top Telegram Z-channels claim he plotted Putin’s overthrow—but the FSB, TASS, and RIA Novosti issue no statements.
Mehdiyev is said to have overseen a network of Russian agents of influence, including even overtly anti-Russian opposition figures—like Ali Karimli, leader of the Popular Front Party of Azerbaijan, arrested in early December. Later, the case added Abbas Abbasov, a former Azerbaijani vice premier living in Russia and heading a diaspora organization Baku viewed as a Kremlin creation. Abbasov is now wanted, and Azerbaijan may soon formally demand his extradition. This could become the next flashpoint in Moscow-Baku relations—in 2026, their latent conflict will likely continue. The downing of an Azerbaijani passenger jet a year ago will probably resurface too: Baku still awaits punishment for the culpable air defense officers and compensation for victims’ families. Neither has happened. Likely for this reason, Ilham Aliyev again skipped the traditional year-end informal CIS summit in St. Petersburg.
Baku’s recent documentary on state channel AnewZ about Ruben Vardanyan—awaiting sentencing in a Baku detention center—can also be seen as an open jab at Moscow. The film recalls OCCRP investigations into laundering Putin’s money through Vardanyan’s Troika investment firm, featuring experts like William Browder and several Ukrainian lawmakers. They affirm: Russia is a criminal dictatorship, with Vardanyan one of its prominent figures. Baku’s core thesis on Vardanyan: the Kremlin allegedly tasked him unofficially in 2022 with heading to Karabakh, then seizing power in Armenia to pull it back into the pro-Russian camp. No convincing evidence has been presented (Vardanyan may have acted independently, concerned for Karabakh’s fate).
Moscow will likely seek to assert itself more loudly in Armenia’s June 2026 parliamentary elections. But the Kremlin’s options for promoting its candidates remain severely limited. Support will evidently go to the «On Its Own» movement, founded by the nephew of detained billionaire Samvel Karapetyan—Narek Karapetyan. Propagandist Vladimir Solovyov has already publicly backed Samvel Karapetyan, calling him a friend. Turning this force into a ruling one is virtually impossible, however. As Vedomosti noted back in April, the Kremlin recognizes its own limits and, even appointing Sergei Kiriyenko to oversee the Armenian direction, sets no ambitious goals. The main aim is simply to mark presence.
In any case, Russian influence in the South Caucasus is now sharply constrained by the Azerbaijani-Turkish tandem, which confidently dictates the agenda and blocks any initiatives inconvenient to itself.
