Today, Narek Karapetyan, the nephew of detained businessman and philanthropist Samvel Karapetyan, made a resonant statement outlining the main mechanisms through which, in his view, the current authorities will attempt to weaken and discredit the emerging new political force.
One of the key focuses of his speech was the role of the Armenian Diaspora—not only as a financial donor but also as a full-fledged participant in Armenia’s political and economic life. According to Karapetyan, the current authorities are deliberately undermining this organic connection, reducing the Diaspora’s role to that of a mere “wallet” for the country.
“If we declare that the Diaspora should not be a factor in supporting Armenia, meaning we accept that it should only send money for us to spend without having a voice in the country’s political life, that is unacceptable. There are hundreds of thousands of Armenians in the Diaspora who have been educated at the world’s best universities. Armenia has fewer such opportunities. Azerbaijan spends millions of dollars to send its citizens to study at leading global universities, while Georgia lacks such resources. Why are we not utilizing the Diaspora’s potential? Why is the country’s leadership trying to sever this potential, turning the Diaspora into a structure that merely sends money?” Karapetyan questioned.
This statement reignites a sensitive issue that has remained unresolved in Armenia for years: should Armenians with dual citizenship, especially those living abroad, have the right to participate in the country’s governance, hold key government positions, or serve as parliamentarians and ministers? The question gains even greater relevance amid the shortage of qualified personnel in many state institutions and the constitutional reforms initiated by the authorities.
According to the Constitution of the Republic of Armenia, individuals with dual citizenship are barred from holding positions as deputies or ministers. Formally, this restriction is justified by concerns over state loyalty, conflicts of interest, and national security. In most cases, such restrictions are reasonable: for example, if a defense minister is simultaneously a citizen of another country—even a friendly one—where they pay taxes, own property, or have obligations, it could pose risks of information leaks, pressure, or blackmail. The same applies to diplomacy: Armenia cannot afford to have someone subject to another state’s jurisdiction participate in shaping its foreign policy.
However, how relevant and appropriate is it to maintain these restrictions for other areas of governance, such as the economy, ecology, or high-tech sectors? While all state institutions are linked to national security, many democratic countries do not impose such restrictions. In nations like Canada, Israel, Italy, and even Latvia and Lithuania, flexible arrangements are permitted, especially when it comes to reforms and attracting qualified personnel.
Armenia is not a typical unitary state. It is a country with a vast and historically active Diaspora, which is at least twice the size of the republic’s population. Unlike its neighbors, Armenia lacks oil revenues or access to the sea. However, it possesses a powerful human capital abroad—educated, successful, and devoted individuals who could bring modern skills, networks, and experience to the country’s governance. In fields like the economy, ecology, education, or digital technologies, where knowledge, professionalism, and a global approach are crucial, such individuals are an invaluable resource. Yet, Armenia effectively restricts access to governance for those who could be its strongest allies in development.
On the other hand, there is another perspective. If someone truly wishes to serve Armenia, why not renounce their second citizenship? Is a ministerial position not significant enough to make a definitive choice? This raises suspicion: could dual citizenship serve as a “backup plan”—a safeguard against political risks or a safety net in case of failure?
This argument carries moral weight: serving the state demands full dedication. However, it does not always reflect reality. Renouncing a second citizenship could result in the loss of residency rights in another country, making it impossible to work, study, run a business, or live with family. The issue is far deeper—it concerns identity, personal history, and mission, not merely a choice between two passports.
The solution may lie not in simplifying or tightening restrictions but in a differentiated approach. Perhaps the restrictions should remain for security and foreign policy institutions but be lifted for “civilian” ministries, accompanied by a system of loyalty checks, mandatory public declarations of interests, and accountability mechanisms.
Only then will we stop viewing dual citizens as a threat and begin to see them as a resource.