Five Years After the 2020 War: Exclusive with the MP Who Read the Classified Report

Today marks five years since the end of the 44-day war—a war that changed the course of Armenian history and the fate of Artsakh forever. On November 9, 2020, a Russian-brokered ceasefire halted the fighting, but for many Armenians, the war has never truly ended. The wounds remain open, and the questions remain unanswered.

One month before the fifth anniversary, the National Assembly’s Inquiry Committee, which spent over three years investigating the causes of Armenia’s defeat, quietly concluded its work. Instead of releasing the findings to the public, the government classified the report and locked it in the parliamentary archives.

For a nation still mourning the loss of Artsakh (Nagorno-Karabakh) and thousands of brave soldiers, the decision feels like another betrayal. Rather than confronting the truth, the current Armenian leadership has chosen secrecy.

To understand what this means for Armenia’s future, The Armenian Report spoke with Tigran Abrahamyan, an opposition lawmaker and member of the “I Have Honor” Alliance, who, like all members of parliament, was given access to the classified report but only two MPs read it until now. His insights show the deep frustration shared by many Armenians who continue to demand truth and accountability.

When asked whether the defeat in 2020 was due to leadership or strategic failure, Abrahamyan was clear:

“In any war—whether it ends in victory or defeat—the responsibility lies with the force that governs the country at that time. This includes the chosen course of foreign policy, the priorities set in the field of national security, and the internal relations within society. When these internal relations are fueled by hostility from the government itself, it becomes evident that the current leadership bears great responsibility for this defeat. Moreover, even after the war, Azerbaijan repeatedly launched aggressive actions against Armenia. Because the Armenian government failed to assess the situation correctly and respond adequately, Armenia not only suffered new casualties, territorial losses, injuries, and captives, but also completely surrendered the negotiation process to Azerbaijan.”

His response shows what many in Armenia already believe—that the government failed both in war and in peace. While Azerbaijan continues its expansionist agenda, capturing new positions and threatening Armenia’s borders, Yerevan’s silence and hesitation have weakened the country’s strategic standing.

The committee’s report, which could have offered a clear understanding of what went wrong, now sits hidden from public view. In democratic societies, transparency after a national tragedy is a moral and strategic necessity. Yet in Armenia, the truth has been buried.

Abrahamyan told The Armenian Report that this secrecy damages national security and public trust:

“The 44-day war and its consequences have had a serious and long-lasting impact… The first step after such a war should be a thorough investigation and analysis. Only through that process can a nation begin to recover, reform, and rebuild its capabilities. However, from the beginning, Armenia’s government has taken a different path—focusing on political propaganda and the preservation and extension of its power.”

This lack of accountability has left Armenians, both in the homeland and the Diaspora, deeply disillusioned. The loss of Artsakh—once a proud symbol of Armenian strength and independence—has turned into a symbol of governmental weakness and moral failure.

Across the world, nations that have faced military defeats have emerged stronger through transparency and accountability.

After the 1973 Yom Kippur War, Israel’s Agranat Commission publicly exposed its own intelligence failures, leading to deep reforms and renewed military strength.

 After the 2006 Lebanon War, the Winograd Commission revealed operational flaws, prompting resignations and restructuring.

 Even the United Kingdom’s Chilcot Inquiry openly criticized the government’s decision-making over the Iraq War, setting an example of democratic honesty.

And Georgia, after its 2008 conflict with Russia, still released a full report identifying aggression and evaluating national mistakes.

By contrast, Armenia’s choice to classify its report sends the opposite message—fear of responsibility and lack of courage. It is a decision that delays recovery and allows the same weaknesses that led to defeat to remain unchallenged.

While Armenia hides the truth, Azerbaijan continues its aggression. After the forced ethnic cleansing of 120,000 Armenians from Artsakh in 2023, Baku has shifted its attention toward Armenia itself—targeting Syunik, Tavush, and other border areas.

Each new demand from Azerbaijan is backed by threats and military pressure. Yet instead of strengthening defenses or exposing the truth about past failures, the current Armenian leadership continues to retreat diplomatically and morally.

The refusal to release the war report is not just a bureaucratic issue—it is a moral one. Every Armenian family who lost a son or a home in Artsakh deserves to know what went wrong. Every soldier who defended Shushi or Hadrut deserves justice, not silence.

As Abrahamyan said:

“Until the real causes that led to the war, the full scale of failures during it, and the subsequent diplomatic fiasco are clearly revealed, the state cannot have a viable future. As long as the authorities continue to conceal a significant number of details and episodes related to the war, Armenia as a state cannot have a genuine perspective for the future.”

Five years after the 44-day war, Armenia stands at a crossroads. One path leads toward truth, reform, and resilience—a path that honors the fallen and defends what remains of the Armenian homeland. The other path, paved with secrecy and submission, leads only to further loss.

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