A month after a much-vaunted meeting in the U.S. White House at which the leaders of Armenia and Azerbaijan signed an agreement aimed at ending decades of conflict, what looked like high diplomacy still requires proof of substance. Almost thirty-five years of conflict, failed talks, and collapsed agreements have left both societies deeply skeptical. And yet, this moment may finally mark the beginning of something different. The challenge now is rebuilding trust between neighbors who no longer remember how to live side by side in peace.
The ceremony in the White House was so sudden and unexpected that even its participants were unsure until the last moment how it would unfold or what steps would follow. The breakthrough owes much to the U.S. mediation. It had been under way for quite a while, but only after the summer meeting between the Armenian and Azerbaijani leaders in Abu Dhabi did the process reach its final stage. The Washington ceremony was originally expected no earlier than the fall, but once both Yerevan and Baku gave their consent, the date was moved forward.
For Azerbaijani president Ilham Aliyev, the venue was crucial. Negotiations with Armenia had largely wrapped up a year earlier, and the final details of the peace treaty were agreed this spring. But Baku had long insisted that Aliyev would only bring the negotiations to their final conclusion if he was offered something to add extra weight. That something turned out to be prestige, in the form of a White House invitation.
The Joe Biden administration had tried and failed to close the deal, coordinating with Europeans, and at some point even with Russia, but Aliyev resisted. Biden’s personal appeal in late 2024 fell short. The change of administration shifted the dynamic. Trump’s team, eager to present him as a global peacemaker and Nobel Peace Prize contender, elevated the talks to a priority.
In March, special envoy Steve Witkoff stopped in Baku after a visit to Moscow, jump-starting the process. The Americans sought to ensure Russia and Iran would not openly obstruct, while political appointees at the State Department worked to keep the negotiations alive. The compromise formula was to invite both leaders to Washington to initiate the peace treaty rather than sign it outright: an approach everyone accepted.
But the historic nature of the event became apparent only during the ceremony itself, when both leaders declared in front of cameras that their conflict was over. At the center of the package of documents they adopted is the peace treaty, which sets the parameters for normalization.
While not spelled out directly, the principle of territorial integrity is aimed primarily at Armenia, given its past support for Nagorno-Karabakh: an enclave within Azerbaijan’s internationally recognized borders that ceased to exist in 2023 after Azerbaijan’s one-day military operation and the complete exodus of its Armenian population.
For Baku, the key commitment is renouncing the use of force. Given Azerbaijan’s military dominance in the South Caucasus, reducing the risk of renewed war has in recent years become Armenia’s paramount objective and remains the driver of its willingness to compromise.
Formally, the treaty will be signed and ratified only after Armenia amends its constitution to remove references to Nagorno-Karabakh: a demand upon which Baku continues to insist. Since that requires a referendum, the process will take time. Even so, the Washington initiation locked in the basic principles of the treaty and launched preparations for its implementation.
These include steps toward diplomatic relations: the two sides may begin discussing ambassadorial appointments, though envoys are likely to operate from elsewhere at first (for instance, from neighboring Georgia), rather than each other’s capitals. The practice of filing lawsuits against each other in international courts is also ending. Exchanges of legal documents relating to these cases stopped once the treaty text was finalized.
Another change will be a revision of the mandate of the European monitoring mission along Armenia’s border. Observers may remain inside Armenia but away from the frontier, so as not to provoke Baku.
In Washington, the two governments jointly appealed for the dissolution of the OSCE Minsk Group. While that group has long been dormant, disagreements around it have made it impossible to unblock the OSCE’s budget, which has to be approved by consensus. The Minsk Group’s closure would restore the OSCE’s ability to function, including on Ukraine.
What has attracted the most attention, however, is the American role in a transport route. A proposed route through what is known as the Zangezur corridor or Syunik road would connect Azerbaijan with its exclave Nakhchivan via Armenia’s southern Syunik region. Branded as the TRIPP project—an acronym that enshrines Trump’s name in it as the Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity—it is envisaged as being managed by a private U.S. company using its own personnel and technology.
Yet there are several unresolved issues relating to the road. Baku insists on zero direct contact between Armenians and Azerbaijanis, while Yerevan demands sovereign control over the road, including transit fees and border checks through intermediaries.
Operating a route under these conditions will be challenging. In the event of an accident, for instance, Armenian doctors and police would inevitably be involved. Substituting Americans at every level is simply not feasible. Negotiating these practicalities will be among the thorniest issues, since they involve not just human contact but bureaucratic cooperation between two states that have never worked together.
Financing the infrastructure is another open question. Azerbaijan has been building roads and railways through the former conflict zone up to the Armenian border, but Armenia’s side of that area is derelict: its road is narrow and in a poor state of repair, and its railway tracks were dismantled in the 1990s. Full functionality would require major construction, possibly even tunnels.
Yerevan had previously explored concessional loans under EU guarantees, with Brussels funding other similar projects in its southern regions. But Washington does not want to coordinate with Europeans, and Brussels no longer plays a central role in the talks. The EU signaled willingness to help after the White House ceremony, but no firm commitments have been made.
Türkiye’s stance also remains critical. Ankara had long linked the normalization of its own relations with Yerevan to the position of its key ally Baku, promising to take steps once a peace treaty was signed. Following the Washington ceremony, Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan met with both South Caucasus leaders and signaled his readiness to proceed, which usually means diplomatic recognition, border opening, and trade.
The timing, however, is uncertain. Some Armenian officials note Türkiye’s reluctance to associate with a Trump-branded project, wary of friction with Moscow. Still, Yerevan ultimately expects normalization.
Without Türkiye moving to unfreeze relations with Armenia, the “peace through transit” vision will be incomplete: Azerbaijan would gain its route to Nakhchivan and Türkiye, while Armenia could be left with closed borders, one short U.S.-supervised road, and minimal transit revenue. There should be additional incentives for Armenia, which Türkiye can deliver.
Whatever the ultimate trajectory, the White House ceremony has entered the history of the Armenia-Azerbaijan conflict. Leaders will come and go, agreements may weaken or collapse, but the Washington accords have already achieved something tangible: they have raised confidence that a new war in the South Caucasus is not imminent: if not for decades, then at least for the coming months and perhaps years.
