In a development that has sent shivers down the spine of every Kremlin apparatchik and caused a collective aneurism in the Russian foreign ministry, Armenia has gone and done something terribly democratic. They've elected a pro-Western government. The sheer audacity. The unmitigated cheek. It's as if a hedgehog has decided to become a ballet dancer in the middle of a minefield.
The new prime minister, a man whose smile is so bright it could power a small Ukrainian village, has promised to drag his country kicking and screaming into the 21st century, preferably far away from Mother Russia's bear hug. London, of course, is beside itself with glee. Foreign Office mandarins are probably doing a jig around a photocopier as we speak, clinking glasses of lukewarm Chardonnay and muttering about "democratic processes" and "shared values."
But let's not get carried away. This is not a triumph of good over evil, or light over darkness. This is a geopolitical chess move where Armenia has decided to swap its Russian rook for a Western bishop. It's a game of thrones played out in the Caucasus, a region where politics is conducted with more drama than a Shakespearean tragedy and the melodrama of a soap opera.
The former regime, a collection of old Soviet-era fossils who looked like they'd been embalmed in vodka, had been clinging to power with the desperation of a man clinging to the side of a cliff. They were Moscow's puppets, dancing to a tune played on a balalaika soaked in corruption. But the people, it seems, have had enough. They've decided to try something new: hope.
Of course, the path ahead is littered with the corpses of failed reforms and broken promises. Armenia is a country with the weight of history on its shoulders and the constant threat of Azerbaijani artillery shells on its border. But for now, let's bask in the warm glow of a good old-fashioned democratic victory. Let's ignore the fact that this could all go horribly wrong, that Russian retaliation could be swift and brutal, or that the new government might turn out to be just as inept as the last one.
No, for now, we have a story that makes us feel good. A story about plucky little Armenia standing up to the big bad Russian bear. It's like a Rocky film, but with more vodka and fewer training montages. London is hailing it as a victory for democratic resolve, which is politician-speak for "we didn't have to do anything and we look brilliant."
I'm off to find a gin. Preferably one from a country that isn't currently bullying its neighbours. Not that there's many left.
