When Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan offered to drop his trousers for the head of the Armenian Apostolic Church, it was only the latest – and most graphic – escalation in a bitter feud between Armenia’s embattled leader and the country’s dominant religious institution. The clash confirms a lesson other politicians in the Emerging Europe region have learned the hard way: tangling with powerful churches is rarely a winning strategy.

Pashinyan’s crude riposte came after a priest accused him of being circumcised – a serious charge in a nation where Christianity is not only the official faith but a core pillar of national identity. The prime minister responded on Facebook, offering to “prove the opposite” to the Catholicos, Karekin II. 

He also doubled down on the question of whether the church leader had broken his vow of celibacy and fathered a child. Armenia’s Apostolic Church, one of the world’s oldest Christian institutions, called the outburst “unbecoming of a statesman” and accused the government of a politically motivated campaign to undermine the church’s standing.

The spat, party conducted on Facebook, is more than a social media sideshow. It has become part of a much broader row pitting Pashinyan’s government against top businesspeople as well as clerics. It is playing out against the backdrop of regional instability and public disillusionment following Armenia’s defeat in the 2020 war with Azerbaijan.

On June 25, the authorities said they had prevented a coup plot. Archbishop Bagrat Galstanyan and several of his supporters were arrested on June 25 on charges of plotting to violently overthrow the state. Galstanyan, who had emerged as a leading opposition figure during protests against territorial concessions to Azerbaijan, denies the charges and has called them politically motivated.

Galstanyan’s detention came just days after the arrest of Armenian-Russian billionaire Samvel Karapetyan. Armenia’s National Security Service (NSS) conducted a search of Karapetyan’s Yerevan residence on June 17, a few hours after the influential tycoon publicly denounced what he called the government’s “attack” on the church and vowed to intervene if political leaders failed to act. Pashinyan has since doubled down, threatening to nationalise Karapetyan’s Electric Networks of Armenia. 

The arrests follow weeks of mutual recriminations between Pashinyan and church leaders. In early June, the prime minister claimed publicly that the Catholicos had violated his vow of celibacy. “If it turns out that Karekin II has a child, then he cannot be the Catholicos of all Armenians,” Pashinyan posted, warning of threats to both “spiritual security” and “state security”. The church, while not directly addressing the allegation, accused Pashinyan of fomenting division and weakening national unity.

Such provocations are striking in a country where the church retains deep social legitimacy. Although Armenia formally separates religion and state, the Armenian Apostolic Church enjoys a privileged position codified in law. A 2024 survey by the International Republican Institute found that 84% of Armenians identify with the church – more than express support for any political institution.

Dangerous precedent

Pashinyan’s campaign to curb the church’s influence may be partly aimed at redirecting public frustration over his government’s diplomatic and military setbacks. Armenia's loss of control over Nagorno-Karabakh in 2020, and subsequent steps toward normalisation with Azerbaijan, have been deeply unpopular. Church’s leaders, particularly Galstanyan, have been at the forefront of protest movements opposing these concessions.

But by making the church a political enemy, Pashinyan is wading into treacherous waters. Politicians in the broader Emerging Europe region have struggled when taking on dominant religious institutions. 

Nowhere is this more evident than in Montenegro, where attempts to diminish the power of the Serbian Orthodox Church backfired dramatically. In 2019, the ruling Democratic Party of Socialists (DPS) passed a controversial law aimed at transferring church property to the state. That law triggered mass protests and contributed to the DPS’s defeat in the 2020 general election after three decades in power.

Subsequent governments struggled to navigate the fallout. Former prime minister Dritan Abazović’s 2022 decision to sign a “fundamental agreement” with the church, intended to resolve the dispute, triggered a no-confidence vote and led to further political instability.

International influence 

The enduring power of religious institutions in the region is not merely a domestic affair. Orthodox churches – particularly the Russian Orthodox Church and to a lesser extent the Serbian Orthodox Church – have become powerful political actors in their own right, often aligning with nationalist and anti-liberal agendas.

In the Western Balkans, Russia leverages Orthodox networks to project soft power and destabilise pro-EU governments. Moscow’s support for the Serbian Orthodox Church contributed to the tensions in Montenegro that erupted into violent protests in summer 2021, and Russian politicians frequently invoke traditional religious values in their campaign against Western liberalism.

The influence of religious conservatism has also played out in disputes over issues such as gender rights across Central and Eastern Europe. The ratification of the Istanbul Convention – a Council of Europe treaty aimed at combating violence against women – met fierce resistance in parts of Central and Southeast Europe. Gay Pride parades have taken place in a tense atmosphere in countries across the region. 

However, the power of the church is eroding in more westernised countries. In Poland, the backlash against the former ruling Law and Justice (PiS) party’s harsh anti-abortion policies happened despite the Catholic Church. Though church influence remains strong, its political clout has diminished.

Following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, several churches in the region broke away from the Russian Orthodox Church, not only in Ukraine but also in the Baltic States. 

A political gamble

Against this backdrop, Pashinyan’s choice to escalate his confrontation with the Armenian Church appears risky, if not reckless. While the prime minister may hope to capitalise on frustrations with ecclesiastical privilege and broaden his appeal among secular or liberal voters, the gamble could further fracture a deeply polarised society.

But to many Armenians, the church remains a symbol of national survival, especially in the face of historical traumas and regional threats. Even as church leaders face questions over wealth, celibacy or politics, they are still seen by many as more trustworthy than the state.

The lesson from Montenegro is that when political leaders pick fights with powerful religious institutions, they often lose more than they gain.