Sign Now or Wait? What Rational Logic Suggests for Azerbaijan’s Peace Treaty Decision
Why Waiting May Make Strategic Sense for Baku
Whether Azerbaijan should proceed with signing the recently finalised peace treaty with Armenia or delay in anticipation of more favourable conditions is a question that warrants careful examination through a rational, game-theoretic perspective, one that likely underpins strategic thinking in Baku. The purpose of this piece is to weigh the strategic calculus that Azerbaijan may apply in deciding between two distinct courses of action: formalising peace now based on the negotiated text or postponing signature in the hope of securing stronger guarantees, particularly on unresolved symbolic and legal issues.
Strategic patience has historically worked to Azerbaijan’s advantage. Over the years, a careful and incremental approach allowed Baku to steadily accumulate military, economic, and diplomatic leverage. This culminated in the decisive territorial gains of 2020 and 2023, restoring Azerbaijan’s full control over Nagorno-Karabakh. This history reinforces the view that time, if managed well, can work in Baku’s favour. However, the present moment is different. For the first time in decades, both sides have reportedly agreed on the text of a peace treaty, opening a window for diplomatic closure that could shift the region into a post-conflict phase.
Azerbaijan has two major conditions it views as essential to a truly conclusive settlement. First is the amendment of the Armenian constitution to remove any reference to a third document implying territorial claims to Nagorno-Karabakh. Second is the formal abolishment of the OSCE Minsk Group, which Azerbaijan considers obsolete and ineffective. While Armenia has reportedly agreed to address the second point concurrently with the treaty’s signing, the constitutional amendment remains politically sensitive and unresolved. The incumbent government in Armenia is facing a challenging election contest in 2026. This uncertainty brings into sharper focus the potential outcomes of signing now versus waiting. These can be grouped into four plausible future scenarios.
From a rational perspective, Azerbaijan’s hesitation to sign the recently finalised peace treaty with Armenia is the timing and political context in which the agreement would be implemented. Although the treaty presents a historic opportunity to formalise peace and secure Armenia’s recognition of Azerbaijan’s territorial integrity, the durability and reliability of that peace are still closely tied to Armenia’s internal political dynamics, particularly the future of Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan’s government and its capacity to enact constitutional reforms.
The clearest path to a durable and enforceable peace would be one in which Pashinyan remains in power beyond the 2026 elections and succeeds in removing from Armenia’s constitution any indirect reference to Nagorno-Karabakh as a distinct or disputed entity. From Azerbaijan’s standpoint, such an amendment would signify not only the recognition of de facto realities but also a shift in Armenia’s legal and symbolic framework that has historically sustained territorial claims. In that context, whether the treaty is signed now or later would make little difference—the payoff remains high, and peace would rest on firm legal and political foundations.
However, there is no guarantee that this path will materialise. Pashinyan’s popularity is declining, and his ability to deliver constitutional reform is already in question. Even if he wins re-election in 2026, there is no certainty that he would have the political capital required or even the willingness to push such a sensitive change through Armenia’s parliament or secure sufficient public support for it. If Azerbaijan signs the treaty now and the amendment never materialises, it would have accepted a peace agreement built on a fragile and incomplete legal basis. While such a treaty might still reduce the risk of renewed hostilities and win favour from Western partners, it would leave unresolved ambiguities in Armenia’s legal structure—ambiguities that could later be exploited by political forces intent on revisiting the Karabakh issue.
Moreover, the risk calculus shifts further if Azerbaijan considers the possibility of political change in Armenia. Should Pashinyan lose power to a pro-Russian or nationalist opposition, the likelihood of constitutional reform would diminish significantly. Even more consequential is the danger that a new Armenian government might formally uphold the treaty while reinterpreting its content or undermining its spirit. This could happen through renewed references to the cultural or humanitarian rights of Armenians in Karabakh, or calls for international engagement under the pretext of protecting minority rights—an approach that could reopen the question of Karabakh through softer, more indirect means.
If Azerbaijan were already bound by the treaty, its ability to respond to such developments would be constrained. Any assertive or coercive reaction could be portrayed internationally as a breach of the agreement, shifting pressure onto Baku rather than Yerevan. Meanwhile, Armenia would have greater room to manoeuvre politically while retaining formal compliance with the treaty. In this way, a treaty signed too early could create an asymmetrical situation: Azerbaijan is restricted by the terms of peace, while Armenia retains the flexibility to revive core elements of the dispute through legal ambiguity or rhetorical shifts.
Waiting, in contrast, allows Azerbaijan to avoid this asymmetry. Without having signed the treaty, it would retain full coercive, diplomatic, and political leverage in the face of future challenges. If Armenia’s next government turns away from the current path of normalisation, Azerbaijan would not be locked into a framework vulnerable to reinterpretation or collapse. It would be free to respond to renewed claims or interference, whether from Yerevan or from external actors like Russia, without being seen as violating a formal peace.
Even in the worst-case outcome, where a future Armenian leadership were to denounce the treaty outright, the cost of delay would be relatively low for Azerbaijan. If it had signed, such a collapse would render the agreement meaningless and potentially damage domestic reputation in Baku, portraying it as having misjudged its counterpart. If it had waited, however, it would have preserved its position and avoided entanglement in a failed diplomatic venture.
None of this means that delay comes without cost. Holding off on the treaty might disappoint international mediators and expose Azerbaijan to criticism for blocking what appears to be a rare chance for peace. Pashinyan’s government could lose faith in the process or lose its window to implement reforms. Moreover, international fatigue with the issue could set in, especially if Western partners interpret the constitutional question as overly symbolic or as an excuse to delay normalisation. A further risk is that Russia, while currently weakened, could regain some influence in the region following any kind of deal in Ukraine. While a full restoration of its former leverage is unlikely in the short term, even modest re-engagement by Moscow could complicate the post-conflict environment and embolden more Russia-aligned actors in Armenia.
Yet, from a strategic perspective, these are manageable risks compared to the potential long-term constraints of signing prematurely. If the goal is not only to conclude a peace treaty, but to do so in a way that forecloses future revisionism and cements the political and legal end of the Karabakh question, then waiting may well offer the more secure path. A treaty signed after Pashinyan’s re-election and accompanied by constitutional reform would provide the strongest possible foundation for sustainable peace. Short of that, patience allows Azerbaijan to guard against the unpredictable and potentially hostile evolution of Armenian politics.
In short, the choice to delay is not necessarily a rejection of peace, but a calculation about its credibility and enforceability. From a rational standpoint, the incentives for Azerbaijan to wait, particularly to see whether Pashinyan retains power and is able to deliver on his commitments, may outweigh the short-term diplomatic rewards of early signature. As in the past, strategic patience may once again serve as a cornerstone of Azerbaijan’s approach to conflict resolution.
Still, it is important to recognise that even the most strategic decisions are made under conditions of bounded rationality. Actors like Azerbaijan, while striving to maximise outcomes, operate with imperfect information about the future, limited capacity to predict others’ behaviour, and institutional constraints on how decisions are processed and implemented. Uncertainty about Armenia’s political trajectory, external pressures, and shifting regional dynamics all complicate efforts to choose the “optimal” course. What appears rational in the moment may be revised by events beyond the reach of calculation. Thus, while the logic of waiting may be sound today, it too is a choice shaped not by perfect foresight, but by navigating uncertainty with the tools and assumptions available in the present.