Pashinyan’s Main Rival Back Home: Why Samvel Karapetyan’s Release Matters More Than It Seems

Samvel Karapetyan is home again. Not in a cell, not behind hospital walls under guard, but in his Yerevan mansion, where supporters greeted him with applause, chants, and a very clear message: this story is no longer just about courts and charges, it’s about politics.

On Friday afternoon, the head of the Tashir Group was transferred from the Kentron detention facility, run by Armenia’s National Security Service, to house arrest. Several dozen people were already waiting near his home. As the police van pulled up, the crowd began chanting “Samvel!” even before the doors opened. When Karapetyan stepped out, applause erupted. For a man the authorities have tried hard to isolate, it was a public show of resilience.

Formally, the Criminal Court of Appeals changed Karapetyan’s preventive measure on January 17, replacing detention with house arrest. Informally, even his lawyers are struggling to describe what happened over the previous 48 hours without using strong language. On January 16, Karapetyan was first taken from a hospital bed, where he was being treated for pneumonia and COVID-related complications, and returned to prison. The same day, another court suspended an earlier decision to place him under house arrest. Then came a second hearing, lasting 14 exhausting hours, which ended with the court refusing to keep him behind bars.

The defense openly called this chain of events a “legal absurdity” and accused prosecutors of trampling the rule of law. And it’s hard to argue that the optics look good: a seriously ill defendant moved between hospital, jail, and courtrooms while judges issue contradictory decisions within hours of each other.

What makes Karapetyan’s case explosive is not only the charges – calls to overthrow the constitutional order and later money laundering – but his political weight. Before his arrest in June 2025, Karapetyan publicly supported the Armenian Apostolic Church after Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan harshly attacked church leaders. That moment marked a turning point. Soon after came detention, new criminal cases, and moves against businesses linked to him.

Electric Networks of Armenia, long associated with the Karapetyan family, was effectively taken over by the authorities. Its license was revoked, and a Civil Contract party figure was appointed as manager. Searches followed at Tashir Group offices, arrests of company executives followed, and the message was clear: this was no longer just about one man.

To many observers, Karapetyan emerged as something unexpected – Pashinyan’s most serious rival ahead of the parliamentary elections. Wealthy, backed by parts of the church, and seen in Moscow as an acceptable political figure, he represents exactly the kind of alternative the prime minister would prefer to neutralize early.

From that perspective, Karapetyan’s return home is not a minor procedural detail. Political analyst Elkhan Shahinoğlu describes it as an unwelcome surprise for Pashinyan, who would have preferred to keep his main rival detained through the election season. House arrest still limits Karapetyan, of course, but crucially, the ban on public statements has been lifted. He can speak. And in Armenian politics right now, that alone is power.

Karapetyan’s lawyer, Aram Vardevanyan, confirmed that while some contact restrictions remain, the businessman is free to make public appearances and statements. That means interviews, messages to supporters, and political signaling are back on the table, even as court proceedings continue.

Health issues may slow him down – his lawyers say he still needs inpatient treatment – but politically, the momentum has shifted. Supporters gathering outside his home are not there by accident. They sense that the narrative of a “neutralized oligarch” no longer holds.

Armenia has seen this before. Former president Robert Kocharyan also bounced between prison and house arrest, with court decisions changing repeatedly. That strategy didn’t eliminate him from politics, but it did muddy the waters and exhaust public attention. The difference now is that Karapetyan is entering the scene at a time when trust in institutions is already fragile, and the church-state conflict is unresolved.

According to analysts, Karapetyan’s political base could reach up to a third of the electorate, especially if church support becomes more explicit. Any alliance with Kocharyan could be a double-edged sword domestically. Still, the bigger problem for Pashinyan is simple: Karapetyan is proving difficult to silence.

Seen in isolation, this is a court decision about a preventive measure. Seen in context, it’s a crack in a broader strategy to sideline a dangerous rival. Karapetyan went to jail last summer. He came out to house arrest. He was sent back. And now he’s home again, greeted by supporters and legally allowed to speak.

For a government that prides itself on control and predictability, this “one step forward, two steps back” approach looks increasingly risky. For Samvel Karapetyan, being home is not freedom in the full sense. But politically, it may be the most important step yet.