Two Revolutions, Two Different Faces. In Search of “Velvet” in the 2018 Armenian Protests

Dear Readers,

I would like to present to you an essay on a topic that is not very popular, yet well worth exploring—especially when discussing the concept of “velvet” in politics. Why? In the vast majority of cases, if you ask for a first association, you will hear the answer: 1989, Czechoslovakia.

Of course, this is correct, but it is worth asking oneself: Is this really the only such example? Does Rita Klímová’s assertion apply only to that specific instance?

Here, the events of late February–March 2008 and March–April 2018 witnessed by Armenian society come into play. I have undertaken a thorough analysis of these events and an exploration of their historical background in order to demonstrate not only the titled “Two Faces” (a kind of bipolarity), but also to search for “velvet features” in the protests of Armenians who had experienced failure a decade earlier.

And if these features occurred, in what form did they manifest? Were there transformations or evolutions supported by technological progress? Or did they remain the same? How many common features exist in realizing the idea of “velvet” itself, and what is it in the first place?

Ladies and gentlemen, if my introduction has sparked your curiosity, I warmly invite you to read my essay. It was written in accordance with scientific ethics; however, the language and level of detail have been balanced to maintain a high degree of accessibility.

Enjoy your reading!

Jakub Brzegowy

Analyst for the Visegrad Group, Deputy Head of KR

Introduction

In the memory of the vast majority of Europeans, the first thought that comes to mind when seeing the combination of the words velvet and revolution is the recollection of the 1989 Czechoslovak political transition. This association is entirely justified, yet incomplete. Most of us forget about the dynamics of events crucial to the South Caucasus region that took place in Armenia in 2018. Hence the need to undertake this research topic. Its objective is to demonstrate the validity of two theses set out in the title: the bipolarity of both revolutions in Armenia (2008 and 2018) and the justification for using the adjective “velvet” in the context of the social protests that occurred on a massive scale at the end of the second decade of the 21st century. To achieve this, the historical context will be presented: the origins of events that can easily be described as national civil disobedience, as well as the detailed course of the 2008 and 2018 revolutions. Next, the motivations of the protesters to carry out the subsequent political turnover will be analyzed to outline arguments supporting these theses. There will also be an exploration of common elements with the 1989 Czechoslovak events, elements of the evolution of protest culture, and their forms. This work aims to create a symbiosis of facts, historical trivia, and accessible language to form a “compendium of knowledge” necessary for the correct interpretation of these events and to encourage the reader to explore the subject of Armenia more broadly on their own.

Seeds of Social Mobilization

Armenia as a republic was born for the first time on May 28, 1918, as an independent and sovereign entity following the collapse of the Transcaucasian Democratic Federative Republic. This independence did not last long due to famine, wars with the Ottoman Empire, Georgia, and Azerbaijan, as well as the growing influence of the Communists, who seized power on December 2, 1920. Armenia itself was absorbed into the USSR on December 30, 1922. Under the Soviet regime, it functioned under a constitution styled after the USSR model, translating into a party monopoly, a centrally planned economy, collectivization, Russification, and other processes characteristic of Eastern Bloc states. In such conditions, as Lanskoy and Suthers (2019) note, the first social movements began to appear in the 1980s, creating the groundwork for anti-communist sentiment and later demands: the fight against corruption and free elections. A key moment in social activation was the first mass rallies in Yerevan in 1988. Over 200,000 people chanted the slogan “Miacum” (demand for the unification of Nagorno-Karabakh). Located at the time in Azerbaijan as an autonomous region, it had an Armenian majority population. This movement led not only to the fall of Communist rule in Armenia, but also to the initiation of the ongoing conflict over the former Nagorno-Karabakh Autonomous Oblast (NKAO) and the creation of the Armenian National Movement, which won a majority in parliament in 1990. Subsequent large-scale mobilizations occurred during the turbulent period of 1996–1998, connected with suspicions of presidential election fraud by the Pan-Armenian National Movement (AANM), the conflict between Ter-Petrosyan, Robert Kocharyan, Serzh Sargsyan, and Vazgen Sargsyan over actions in Nagorno-Karabakh, and changes in the position of head of state in 1998. The president at the time, Kocharyan, held office until 2008.

A Year of a Painful Lesson

Upon reaching his second consecutive term, Robert Kocharyan was legally required to step down. In this case, the intended heir in the vision of the former Komsomol member was his collaborator—also hailing from Nagorno-Karabakh and the Republican Party of Armenia—Serzh Sargsyan, to whom he gave public support. The opponent in this contest was former president Levon Ter-Petrosyan, who despite his age could still draw crowds, particularly young voters. Despite this, Serzh Sargsyan won the election in the first round with approximately 53% of the vote. The reaction was immediate. On the same day, February 20, the opposition organized a protest in Yerevan’s Freedom Square. Participants sang in the streets, attended concerts, openly expressed their opposition, proudly raised EU and Ukrainian flags, and, most importantly, demanded a re-run of the election. Although a pro-government force formed on February 26, it proved to be an embarrassing mistake as its members defected to the other side. Regarding the fairness and transparency of the elections, it is worth citing the 2008 report by the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE), which served as an independent observer. According to the OSCE, unrealistically high voter turnouts with large numbers of invalid votes occurred at some polling stations. Additionally, mainstream media rarely showed the protesters after the election. Some observers reported instances of signing blank ballots, reckless handling of election materials, attempts to obstruct observers’ work, and misplacing votes into incorrect piles (OSCE/ODIHR, 2008, pp. 2–3). Between February 26 and March 1, talks were held between both sides, but Ter-Petrosyan ultimately rejected the offer. On March 1, martial law was declared, and police proceeded to pacify the protest under the pretext of detecting weapons and explosives in Freedom Square. Ter-Petrosyan was placed under house arrest, and clashes involving tear gas, fire, batons, sticks, and arson ensued. 8 people died, 130 were injured, and many protesters fled the country or faced prosecution by the Armenian judicial system.

Lanskoy and Suthers accurately note that “The 2008 events created a deep rift between state and society.” (Lanskoy & Suthers, 2019, p. 91). They were the titled “painful lesson” for the future cadre that would lead the 2018 protests, headed by Nikol Pashinyan—an experience that birthed a movement utilizing methods previously unseen in Armenia.

First Lightning in the Sky

Before moving to 2018, it must be emphasized that Sargsyan’s second term was far from peaceful. Before reaching the climax, three major events from the perspective of this study must be addressed: “100 Dram”, “Electric Yerevan”, and the 2015 constitutional changes. They will not be presented in detail; however, they need to be introduced because in the first two, mechanisms repeated in 2018 (and mentioned later) can be observed. The “100 Dram Protest Movement” was a social movement that arose when 48 transport companies petitioned the Yerevan City Hall to raise bus and minibus fares from 100 to 150 drams, and trolleybus fares from 50 to 100 drams, citing rising Russian oil prices and high maintenance costs. Announced on July 18, 2013, by Henrik Navasardyan, then head of Yerevan’s City Transport Department, this decision was met with strong public disapproval. Protesters used various tools: throwing coins at city hall, flyers, megaphones, searching for dirt on authorities, social media, free rides provided by celebrities, the freecar.am initiative, and arguing on buses with drivers. “Electric Yerevan” was a sharp reaction to a 17% increase in electricity prices, again linked to Russian policy and economics. First, 2015 saw a significant weakening of economic relations between Russia and Armenia, largely due to the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict and sanctions imposed on the Kremlin. Second, ENA (Electricity Networks of Armenia), which held exclusive rights to energy distribution, had been controlled since 2006 by Inter RAO UES—a Russian company that administered an outdated, inefficient power grid and was far from transparent. Protests erupted on June 19 and lasted until September. They involved concerts, rallies, marches, water cannon usage, protest decentralization, mobilization of the middle class and youth, and street barricades. This movement was non-political: participants engaged actively without seeking political capital. Although price hikes were not fully canceled, ENA was acquired by Samvel Karapetian, and government subsidies were implemented in cooperation with the Tashir Group. Now it is time for the 2015 national referendum. The political system was semi-presidential: a strong president elected by citizens appointing the prime minister, sharing executive power with the government but remaining stronger. However, the presidency had a two-term limit. Citing Europeanization and legalism as main arguments, the Republican Party initiated a national referendum to shift from a semi-presidential to a parliamentary system. Crucially, Serzh Sargsyan declared he would not seek the prime minister post after his presidential term. With 51% turnout and 63% voting “YES”, the change was passed. Not as a result of some rebellion, coup, or protest. Leaving aside reports of vote buying, pressure, and fraud, everything appeared legal and democratic on the surface. Although the reform was justified by Europeanization and the need to modernize the political system, part of the public interpreted it as Sargsyan’s attempt to retain political influence after his second term.

Karabakh Clan vs. Armenian Society – Round Two

The referendum proved to be an effective short-term political move. By early spring, rumors circulated that Serzh Sargsyan might not honor his promise. By late March, it was practically a given. Seeing this, Pashinyan along with activists launched the movement “Im Kayl” (“My Step”) on March 31, 2018. Its initial “step to recognition” was a march from Gyumri to Yerevan. Joined along the 250 km route by students, teachers, soldiers, and citizens outdoors, the slogan “Merjir Sergin” (“Reject Serzh”) was born, sung by tens of thousands. “If people are determined and as many take to the streets as on March 1, 2008, I guarantee we will stop another continuation of Sargsyan’s rule,” declared Pashinyan, invoking memories of the 2008 street clashes. On April 13, protests spread beyond the capital; blockades of major transport hubs and strategic buildings began, but demonstrations maintained a peaceful character. On April 17, after accepting the nomination from his party, Sargsyan became prime minister, which only inflamed the situation. On April 21, the Republican Party agreed to a televised conversation that took place the following day. Theoretically, one could assume a scenario where leaders would try to reach an agreement and build consensus. This thesis was quickly subjected to harsh verification. On April 22, 160,000 demonstrators in Yerevan and television viewers watched a two-minute conversation that ended with the sitting prime minister walking off stage after Pashinyan’s words: “Duk ch’ek karogh spanal hay zhoghovrdin” (“You cannot threaten the Armenian people”). The government decided to arrest the protest leader and his closest associates. The Ministry of Internal Affairs authorized the use of force against rebel units. Events began to resemble the scenario of March 1, 2008. It was expected that this would extinguish the antagonistic flame. The government’s shock was immense when, the following day, not only did the intensity of protests increase, but priests and soldiers marched at their head. In this situation, after failed forceful attempts, on April 23, Serzh Sargsyan publicly stated before the crowd in Yerevan: “Nikol Pashinyan was right. And I was wrong. The street movement did not want me to become prime minister. I am fulfilling your demand and wish peace and harmony to our country.” On the same day, he resigned as prime minister, and in accordance with the law, the entire government followed. President Karen Karapetyan became prime minister.

Parliamentary Majority and Law as the Republican Party’s Last Trench Before Completing the Revolution

An analysis of the constitutional changes indicates that this could not be the end. A new prime minister still needed to be appointed. On May 1, at a parliamentary session, Pashinyan sought the required 53 votes. Yelk, the Tsarukyan Alliance, and Dashnaktsutyun gave 100% support. However, 58 seats were still held by the Republican Party, where no one broke ranks. This prompted Pashinyan’s appeal to the nation to organize a general strike. Blockades of streets, roads, train lines, airports, universities, ministry entrances, and even intrusions into government offices began. Faced with mounting social pressure, a break in the establishment occurred on May 8. 12 votes shifted to Pashinyan, who thus became Prime Minister of Armenia. However, this did not mean the revolution’s yields were complete. The parliamentary majority remained hostile; the only possibility for change was snap elections, which could occur if, after a prime minister’s resignation, parliament twice failed to elect a new prime minister. Initially, Pashinyan tried to reach an agreement with parliament, but met hard resistance because every month spent rebuilding their position was of great value to the establishment. The popularity of the prime minister and the “My Step” movement remained too high, prompting actions to weaken them. On October 2, 2018, a controversial amendment entered parliamentary regulations, explicitly specifying external interference as an argument to consider a session unfinished. At first glance, it might have seemed like a procedural solution—an almost positive reflection of standards. However, in this situation, it was a blatant and unprecedented attempt to limit Pashinyan’s most important weapon: the so-called “voice of the street.” The prime minister immediately coordinated thousands of people to besiege parliament from every side, awaiting “their” success. It arrived, symbolized by the “night walk.” The protesters’ actions brought the intended results, the most significant coming on October 8, when Gagik Tsarukyan, head of Prosperous Armenia, signed a memorandum supporting December elections. Interestingly, 16 MPs from the Republican Party also broke ranks. On October 16, Nikol Pashinyan announced his resignation as prime minister on television, and parliament, as agreed, did not field a candidate. This triggered constitutional procedures resulting in elections on December 9, ending in a victory for “Im k’ayly dashink’” (My Step Alliance), which won 70.44% of the vote.

What Was “Velvet”—Common Features with 1989

Calling the 2018 Armenian revolution “velvet” is neither accidental nor inaccurate. Many common features can be identified across its course, assumptions, and the social structure of participants. First, in both cases, one sees lessons learned from an event that can be described as a “national trauma.” This consists of understanding that oppression cannot be overthrown through force. For Czechoslovakia, this was the failed attempt to create “Socialism with a human face” under Alexander Dubček in August 1968; for Armenia, it was March 1, 2008. Second, the younger generation formed the core force of protesters in both cases, rapidly increasing participant numbers to hundreds of thousands despite obligations related to studies, work, or private life. The philosophy of struggle itself is virtually identical, though its forms differ (to be discussed later). Its core is well captured by these two quotes delivered by Pashinyan and the Civic Forum: “There are no stones in our hands, no hatred, no aggression. In our hands, there is only love; in our hands, there is only respect… light is in our hands,” and “Let us reject all forms of terror and violence. Our weapons are love and non-violence.” It is also important to reference Václav Havel’s slogan, which frequently appeared on posters: “Truth and love will prevail over lies and hatred.” These words translate into the characteristics of actions against authorities: demonstrations, joint concerts, street blockades, marches, strikes, rallies, discussions about the country’s future—a fight powered by community strength and a peaceful message directly stating the necessity of the current regime’s departure. Neither revolution initially had a political motive. In other words, the motives of the vast majority of protesters were not political, yet they led to profound political transformations. The key accompanying thought when engaging in legal civil disobedience was not political sympathy for a given party or the desire to turn the Civic Forum or My Step into a political entity. Participants wanted to gain a sense of freedom, dignity, and agency in their own state. They no longer had the strength to passively observe the “Caesarean ambitions” of authorities, police brutality, or undemocratic methods of crushing opposition. Through a non-political narrative, they were able to craft a role as the “voice of the nation,” listening to social demands, integrating the masses, and increasing participation credibility. Neither mass movement was mandatory. The vast majority joining the march to Yerevan or standing on Letná in Prague on November 25, 1989, held no party membership, organizational credentials, or other proof of affiliation. The leadership qualities of Nikol Pashinyan and Václav Havel, which served as the glue of the revolutions, must also be recognized. As a point of interest, both were arrested, and in both cases, this caused the rapid downfall of the governments. Finally, attention must be paid to the etymology of the phrase “Velvet Revolution.” Its author was Rita Klímová: spokesperson for the Civic Forum and Ambassador of Czechoslovakia to the United States from 1990 to 1991. In her view, it denotes a peaceful course based on legal mechanisms leading to the transfer of power. The use of water cannons, arrests, or instances of beatings certainly work against the definition’s strict validity, but the fidelity to these principles demonstrated by protesters cannot erase the logic of comparisons to this soft and smooth fabric.

Identifiable Dissonances

Despite obvious and natural similarities, differences are visible. Highlighting them is not intended to diminish the “velvetness” of the 2018 events in Armenia, but rather to reconcile historical contexts and illustrate the evolution process. The first difference lies in the author of the revolution itself. While student youth formed the breakthrough force in both revolutions, in Czechoslovakia, they served as the spark—the ignition. Had it not been for student demonstrations on November 16, 1989, in Bratislava and November 17 in Prague commemorating the 50th anniversary of the Nazi storming of Prague University—which provoked aggressive police actions—the collapse of communism would not have occurred so quickly. The fact that students did not bring about the system change itself, but served merely as a tool in the hands of elders, is a separate issue deserving dedicated consideration. Another difference emerges in systemic intent. Unlike Czechs or Slovaks, Armenians did not seek a complete change of system. They demanded the restoration of social justice, anti-corruption measures, and an end to abuse of power, but the political system itself had been approved in 2015 through the strongest tool of popular sovereignty: a national referendum. The culprit behind the protests was not the system, but the Republican Party’s breach of promise. The third and most significant difference is the technological evolution of protest, most visible in methods of assembly and internal communication. In 1989, there were no websites, social media, or smartphones. To communicate, one had to bypass pro-government media and censorship indirectly. Spaces for this included Radio Free Europe, independent newspapers, or striking universities. However, Glenn (1999) attributes the greatest credit to intelligentsia trips to rural areas and striking theaters. These trips aimed to inform the working class about demands, the revolution’s direction, and their importance in the new state reality. According to the Civic Forum Memorandum of November 26, 1989, trips were conducted across six Czech regions (Civic Forum Memorandum, cited in Glenn, 1999, p. 18), while the Rokoko and ABC Theaters recorded visits to 45 cities and 23 universities or colleges (cited in Glenn, 1999, pp. 18–19). Theaters served as information, discussion, and communication hubs independent of communist authorities, competing directly with state media: Rudé právo, Pravda, Československá televize, and Československý rozhlas. In 2018, social media—mainly Facebook and apps—took over this role. Here it is worth recalling the “100 Dram” and “Electric Yerevan” protests, where protest tools were forged. Their effectiveness was largely due to social media. Through them, actions were coordinated in ways that caught law enforcement off guard, bypassing traditional media by creating a separate news stream, achieving exemplary synchronization, exposing propaganda, and decentralizing movement strength nationwide at speeds unattainable by 1980s methods. The final thesis regarding dissonance rests on the Martin Šmíd case, assuming that the Czechoslovak revolution, unlike the Armenian one, contained a significant element of disinformation. The core idea is the use of falsehood by the “good” side: the Martin Šmíd affair was a hoax meant to act as a catalyst. Drahomíra Dražská, taking advantage of the existence of two students with the same name, invented a rumor about a fatality caused by police actions on November 17 in Prague. The entire nation, Radio Free Europe, the BBC, and the Voice of America believed her story. This event became the subject of many conspiracy theories and rumors despite interviews with real individuals. Most importantly, it fulfilled its author’s purpose and accelerated the pace of the revolution. In contrast to the Martin Šmíd case, no credible allegations emerged regarding the use of similar methods by Pashinyan’s movement.

Conclusion

Describing the 2018 Armenian protests as “velvet” is neither unfounded nor purely emotional. Analyzing the precursor to this concept—the “Velvet Revolution”—reveals many common features in their course, principles, and tools of disobedience. Differences exist, but they do not manifest in the most crucial aspect: the philosophy of protest. They stem mainly from historical contexts specific to each nation. It can be stated that in Armenia, the world witnessed an evolution consisting of the transition of non-violence ideals into modern times. Nikol Pashinyan utilized his intellectual background, journalistic experience, and memories of tragic 2008 to create a reincarnation of velvetness, drawing heavily from the Civic Forum. His movement generated such immense force that authorities could not employ forceful options, both out of conscience and the risk of totally destroying legitimate authority. This is precisely what “velvetness” consists of: a peaceful, decisive, and courageous step toward respecting human dignity, freedom, and self-determination; patiently building the strength inherent in mass social mobilization rooted in respect for history, present, and future; and the ability of its leaders to articulate their vision as that of the entire nation, aimed at implementing binding, transparent democratic changes through legal mechanisms. This was, is, and will remain the core of Rita Klímová’s “velvetness.”