Satirical imaginary conversation with Pres. Aliyev
By Boghos Kupelian
As I was watching with intense focus and curiosity the so-called peace summit orchestrated by U.S. President Donald Trump with the Armenian and Azerbaijani leaders—broadcast across major international television networks—I suddenly imagined myself transported to Baku.
There, waiting for me with an impatient, ear-to-ear grin, stood Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev, freshly returned from Washington. We had a brief but pointed conversation in his presidential palace office, accompanied by a glass of top-shelf vodka and a spoonful of premium caviar…
“Hi, Mr. President,” I said in English, testing whether he knew Turkish. He did—and immediately I launched into a flurry of questions.
“How did your historic meeting with President Trump and Prime Minister Pashinyan go?”
“Far better than expected,” he replied, his smug smile growing wider, practically rubbing it in my face.
“No doubt. International political observers had predicted as much. But what exactly made it such a resounding success for you?”
“To be honest,” he said, “both participants were approachable and gave in to nearly all of my demands with the naïve eagerness and haste of inexperienced politicians. President Trump was obsessed with winning the Nobel Peace Prize at any cost, while Nikol Pasha was drunk on the long-cherished dream of being seen as a successful, shrewd diplomat.”
“Yes, dear Aliyev,” I said, “gifting your enemy of yesterday a 34-mile corridor—under nominal U.S. supervision—amounts to opening an artery, to put it mildly. The primary beneficiary of that corridor will undoubtedly be the authorities in Baku. And in return, you gave up nothing of value.”
“Look here, Mr. Know-It-All,” he snapped. “Did someone hold your prime minister’s hand and force him to sign that so-called peace declaration?”
“Yes, our prime minister signed the agreement without making the return of exiled Armenians from Artsakh or the release of political prisoners a precondition—losing his head over your and Trump’s fake smiles and lavish attention… ‘Drunk’ might actually be the more accurate word in this case.”
Aliyev grew serious and furrowed his brows.
“Well, you elected your own so-called ‘promising’ leader of the nation by free will. No one held a gun to your head to make that choice. And if your friend Nikol Pasha ends up rewriting the country’s constitution and restructuring the Armenian Church just to meet my preconditions—what kind of outrage will you Armenians raise then?”
He let out a loud, self-satisfied laugh and pointed a finger right in my face.
“To that I say,” I replied, “the entire Azerbaijani leadership ought to be placed under arrest.”
“Go ahead,” he scoffed. “Is anyone stopping you?”
“Sadly, our naïve people lack the resolve and courage to act. But Russia seems to be sharpening its teeth in that direction…”
Aliyev, caught off guard, stared at me with wide, foreign eyes—like he wanted to ask, “How do you know that?”
As our friendly conversation came to an end and I prepared to leave the caviar-scented presidential palace, I looked him square in the eyes.
“Hey Aliyev, do you know what your name means in French?”
“No… to be honest, I only know English and Russian.”
Without hesitation, I said:
“It means rabbit—lièvre. But in your case, not the innocent creature we know. No, yours is the cunning rabbit…”
At that, my conversation partner practically collapsed in on himself, speechless.
