“Just Business?” Narek Nalbandyan’s Interview Raises New Questions

The interview by Hraparak with businessman Narek Nalbandyan, whose apparent purpose was to obtain answers to a number of questions, has produced the opposite result in some respects: instead of answers, new questions have emerged.

Nalbandyan has tried to present the expansion of his business as the result exclusively of economic calculations—bank financing, investments, acquisition of troubled assets, auctions, and market risk. He has denied the existence of any personal, family, or business ties with Nikol Pashinyan and his family.

However, when the conversation reaches the most sensitive questions—the purchase price of HrazdanCement, the course of the auctions, former employees’ unpaid wages, and possible ties with the authorities—the same pattern can be observed in the answers: a specific question is followed by a general formulation, while the essence of the issue is shifted into the realm of documents, procedures, or general economic logic.

For this reason, it is difficult to view the interview as a final clarification of the matter. Rather, it shows how many questions still remain unanswered.

From 45 million to 11.101 billion drams: The Mathematics of the “HrazdanCement” Price

The most noteworthy case is the “HrazdanCement” transaction.

Nalbandyan is asked a simple question: was the plant initially put up for sale for about $45 million and then acquired for about $31 million?

However, no direct answer is given regarding those two figures.

Instead, Nalbandyan refers to official documents and presents different figures—an assessed value of approximately 15.228 billion drams and 11.101 billion drams paid by “Project Inter-Invest.”

In other words, the question is in dollars, while the answer is in drams.

But even presented in this form, the figures do not completely eliminate the original question. At the exchange rate during the relevant period, 11.101 billion drams is approximately $28–29 million. That is, it is still an amount of the same order of magnitude around which the question was raised.

So why not simply say: yes, the final price of the transaction was this much, the initial price was this much, and the reduction in price occurred through this procedure and for these reasons?

Instead, the public is presented with a general description of the auction procedure.

Here, however, the most important question remains: why were there no buyers?

The mechanism for reducing the auction price in itself says nothing about why the asset was not sold several times. If the problem was the high price, that should be substantiated. If there were debts, liabilities, or other risks associated with the plant, those should also be known. And if the conditions were such that they deterred potential buyers, then those conditions are also important for understanding the full picture of the transaction.

It is particularly in this context that the issue of former employees’ unpaid wages draws attention.

Nalbandyan does not clearly say who is responsible for those obligations, stating that the matter should be clarified through the contracts and other documents. But such an obligation is not an ordinary detail. When acquiring a major industrial asset, its financial and legal condition should have been examined beforehand, and the subsequent fate of its debts should have been clarified.

This is precisely where a more serious question arises: to what extent were the auction conditions actually transparent and the same for all potential buyers?

Theoretically, it is possible that the official auction conditions were the same for all participants, but that those very conditions deterred potential buyers from participating. But another possibility also exists, which must likewise be ruled out through evidence: in addition to the publicly disclosed conditions, there could have been non-public arrangements or promises for the specific buyer that changed the actual risks of the transaction.

Here, legal and “social” approaches become mixed together in order to avoid a specific question. The question was legal: who will pay? The answer was that “it is logical to consider the possibility of returning [the former employees].” But returning to work is not repayment of a former debt. This replaces the essence of the question: the people whose wages are owed must be paid. Inviting them to work again afterward is an entirely different matter.

Nalbandyan’s words even contain a certain element of blackmail: if you demand repayment of the old wage debts, you may lose the opportunity to work in the future.

At this point, the aspects of the “HrazdanCement” transaction that raise the most questions are precisely those for which there is no direct answer—the relationship between the initial and final prices, the reasons for the absence of buyers, the company’s liabilities, and the fate of former employees’ unpaid wages.

The Connection with Pashinyan’s Family: An Unambiguous Denial, but Without Details

Nalbandyan claims that he has neither personal, nor family, nor business ties with Nikol Pashinyan and members of his family. He also states that the prime minister instructed law enforcement bodies to verify the information circulating around his name, while emphasizing that he too is interested in disproving the “myths” being spread about his connection with Pashinyan.

However, speaking about an interest in the matter is still not proof of the absence of a connection. Nalbandyan demands “a specific fact—whom did I say this to, when did I say it, at what point in the transaction did I say it?” But such connections are almost never expressed through statements of the “I use the prime minister’s name” type. They can manifest themselves indirectly—through the speed of agreements, access to information concerning auctions, or the conduct of officials. Therefore, demanding exclusively direct evidence sets an excessively high threshold from the outset, effectively making the allegation impossible to prove in principle.

Moreover, the formulation “I have neither personal, nor family, nor business ties” is a categorical denial, but without any specific details. Nalbandyan does not say whether he has ever met Pashinyan, whether he has interacted with people around him, or whether he knew any member of his family before 2018. He simply closes the topic.

And What Is the Real Meaning of This Whole Story?

However, the real meaning of all these sensational stories lies on an entirely different level.

The campaign unfolding around Narek Nalbandyan, Anna Hakobyan joining it and the call to boycott the “88” supermarket chain, and earlier, Pashinyan’s “angry statements” and the initiation of criminal cases, essentially confirm only one thing: the noise created around this story is most likely being artificially generated by the authorities themselves. The scale of the scandal is being controlled and, if we speak frankly, this story is not particularly dangerous for Pashinyan. He retained power even after the overt betrayal of the homeland. The disclosure of his ties with Nalbandyan poses no significant danger to him.

Nalbandyan’s participation in this performance is most likely the “payment” that must be made in exchange for the “rapid growth and success” of his business structures.

And the main purpose of this whole story is one thing—to fill the information field with sensational scandals so that processes more important for Armenia remain in the shadows.

While the people are discussing the price of “HrazdanCement” and the boycott of the “88” chain of stores, the topics that actually determine the country’s future remain in the shadows.