Three Centuries of Corridor Politics: Zangezur

By Edward Tashjian, Beirut, 13 March 2025

He who holds the mountain passes of Zangezur (Syunik) holds the future of the Caucasus. For three centuries, Zangezur’s mountain highlands have witnessed the rise and fall of empires, armies advance and retreat, and nations fight desperately for survival—all attempting to control this strategic crossroads. When Davit Bek mobilized his troops in 1722 to repel the Safavid, Ottoman, and local Muslim tribes’ advance, he knew what strategists in Ankara, Tehran, Moscow, Baku and Yerevan recognize today: Zangezur is the master key to regional influence and power in the Caucasus. As Azerbaijan now presses for its “Zangezur corridor” following the 2020 Nagorno-Karabakh war, the stakes remain unchanged from Bek’s times.

In 1722, when the great Safavid state disintegrated and the Ottoman Empire pushed its borders into the Caucasus, Zangezur became a focal point. Armenian troops in the area, led by the legendary Davit Bek, rallied in the Syunik region to repel Ottoman and Persian inroads. Bek’s military operations—marked by both tactical brilliance and desperate resistance—created a short-lived Armenian principality in an area prized not only for its natural defenses but also as a strategic passageway between the Islamic world and Christian Armenia. His friend and successor, Mkhitar Sparapet, pursued this same guerrilla warfare even after Bek’s death, making Zangezur a symbol of Armenian self‐determination in the face of imperial rivalries.

Dominion over Zangezur to the Ottomans and their ideological successors was less an issue of expansion and more one of securing a strategic corridor, one that would simplify their military’s logistics and extend the projection of power into the Caucasus. The region’s mountainous topography, while creating natural defenses for local forces, also provided an opening for armies to pass and move between Anatolia, Persia, and the Caucasus. The province had, in effect, become a coveted trophy—a buffer and a bridge, protecting and projecting power and influence.

Davit Bek’s hideout mountain fort at Vorotnaberd – Syunik (Zangezur) region

Like Davit Bek, the early 1910s and 1920s witnessed the emergence of another Armenian leader—Garegin Njdeh—whose command in Syunik played a crucial role in defending Zangezur. The Russian Empire’s demise in 1917 and subsequent power vacuum redefined the political geography of the South Caucasus. To protect Zangezur in 1919, Njdeh and his men first fought the Azeris and the Turks. When the Soviets took Baku in 1920, Armenia agreed to hand the disputed area to the Red Army, but Njdeh continued fighting, fearing it would ultimately be given to Azerbaijan. His opinion was— “It’s impossible without Syunik (Zangezur).”

Yet, as local and external powers vied for dominance, great powers also intervened during this period. Britain, the Soviets, and the remnants of the Ottoman legacy all contributed to the political realignments and frontiers of the region. Whatever the local conflicts, the overarching narrative remained one and the same: Zangezur was a linchpin in the broader contest for regional dominance, as great powers used the region’s strategic location as a bargaining chip in their competitive bids for a post‑imperial order. The eventual incorporation of Zangezur into Soviet Armenia in 1921 marked a momentary pause in the centuries-old struggle, though the underlying geopolitical tensions never truly disappeared.

Fast forward to today, and aftershocks from previous contests are being registered in the renewed debate over the so-called “Zangezur corridor”. In the wake of the 2020 Nagorno–Karabakh ceasefire and subsequent diplomatic and military maneuvers, Azerbaijan has been touting the opening of an unrestricted transport link between its mainland and the Nakhichevan exclave through Armenia’s Syunik province. The policy, seen by many as a reincarnation of historical ambitions, is endorsed by Turkey— which sees the corridor as an opening to embed Turkic presence and achieve an uninterrupted trade and energy corridor— and is endorsed by Russian elements interested in balancing regional connectivity in an emerging multipolar order.

For Armenia, however, the corridor is an existential threat: it is not simply an economic proposition, although it can be, but a geostrategic gambit that would compromise national sovereignty by allowing foreign powers to be based on Armenian soil. Iran is likewise agitated by any deal that would reduce Iranian control over passage routes to Armenia and Europe. Moreover, Iran views Armenia as an important buffer against the expansionist ambitions of Azerbaijan, particularly given the longstanding tensions between Azerbaijan and Iran over ethnic, religious, and political issues. Should Armenia lose control over this vital territory, it would not only surrender a piece of its sovereign land but also its geographic lifeline to Iran— one of its few friendly neighbors with whom it has economic ties, in a region marked by historical animosities.

Over the centuries, Zangezur’s fundamental significance remained remarkably stable: it is a place where empires and modern nation-states meet, valuable economically and militarily. What Davit Bek defended with sword and strategy in the 18th century continues to be contested with diplomatic declarations and military posturing in the 21st. The mountains that once sheltered Armenian resistance now witness a new kind of siege—one fought with peace agreements, economic incentives, and the persistent shadow of force. The corridor that once allowed armies to march between empires may soon carry pipelines, railways, and commerce.

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