Artificial Intelligence Without Intelligence

Collaborationists of all stripes are celebrating: region’s largest AI (Artifiial Intelligence) factory has opened in Armenian city of Hrazdan. Yerevan’s propaganda machine has already spun the arrival of NVIDIA’s ‘largest data centre in the region’ into a foreign-policy triumph – yet more proof, in its telling, that ‘Real Armenia’ has finally taken its rightful place in the world, timed to mark exactly one year since the signing of the notorious ‘Trump Route’ (TRIPP) agreement in Washington on 8 August 2025. Let us give credit where it is due, shall we: for a ‘government’ whose factories have so far turned out little more than bots and trolls, this really is a colossal leap forward.

Let us, for now, set aside the question of why, in the eyes of Yerevan’s young Janissaries, a seat ‘at the grown-ups’ table’ comes only in exchange for Artsakh, Syunik, and Section 907 of the US Freedom Support Act. The Armenian world has, for the most part, simply watched from the sidelines as these concessions were made – letting Turkey’s time-servers get away with it for more than five years now. It is therefore hardly surprising that the Turkish satrap now presents these losses and concessions not merely as a necessary evil for Armenia’s survival, but as the very secret ingredient of its success. And the fact that this project exists at all is itself the fruit of decades of work by the Armenian world – which kept investing in geographic Armenia through every twist of history and the greed of the feudal-clan system – should give us no comfort. Quite the opposite: it should sharpen our judgment of our own passive and active collaborationism with that system.

Obviously, the mere appearance of an AI factory in Armenia – in Kotayk, no less, the only Armenian region without an external border – is proof of neither a technological breakthrough nor any newfound geopolitical agency. Without that agency, it is simply another major foreign-capital asset on Armenian soil – except that what is being extracted here is not ore but computing power, and all this while Armenia’s energy sector remains heavily dependent on Russian gas.

This is precisely why it is so absurd to present NVIDIA’s arrival as a reward for abandoning geopolitical ambitions. The collaborationist media cesspools are all singing from the same hymn sheet: this ‘place at the grown-ups’ table’ (which apparently means being permitted to serve the dishes at that table) is the reward ‘Real Armenia’ has received for exemplary behaviour: accepting its ‘real size’ and its own insignificance.

An investor, however, does not come to reward a state for its modesty. It pursues what has economic value: a solvent market or proximity to one, cheap land and energy, human capital, inexpensive labour, or access to other resources and the chances to cut corners that developed economies with established legal regimes simply do not permit. Subjectivity begins where a state is capable not merely of attracting such capital, but of determining the conditions of its presence in accordance with its own long-term interests – at the very least, without harming its own population.

The Sotk gold mine is a painful illustration of the fact that possessing a resource – or even having foreign companies extract it – does not mean controlling it. Following the shift in the line of contact and the loss of control over part of the deposit, the mere existence of gold reserves guarantees us neither the ability to use them fully nor even the tax revenues so coveted as the principal ‘value’ of ‘Real Armenia’.

Although computing power is less tangible, and Kotayk does not border any other country, the logic behind the AI factory is depressingly familiar. Large-scale industrial infrastructure requires electricity, land, cooling, and reliable connectivity. Promises of closed-loop water cooling and optimised energy use inspire no more confidence than the assurances of environmental compliance we have already heard from the mines in Lori and Syunik – especially given the country’s existing problems with electricity and water supply. There are also questions about the site’s thermal and noise impact, and about how it will shape development in the area more broadly.

To be fair, Firebird AI – the company behind the project – does offer something more: investment in developing the country’s technological capabilities over the medium term, and in building relevant skills among Armenian professionals. In capable hands – and backed by people unafraid to demand something ‘extra’ rather than fearing the loss of the white man’s favour (what if he takes offence and opens an even larger centre somewhere nearby, depriving Armenia of its coveted ‘first place in the region’?) – this carbon could indeed become a diamond. But diamonds form under pressure, at depths entirely beyond the reach of dilettantes who know how to pressure only their own population, never external partners.

Thus, in today’s Armenia, Artificial Intelligence – like the much-touted logistics ‘Crossroads of Peace’ –  looks set to become just the latest candidate for the Third Republic’s ‘next oil’, following in the footsteps of people (including Armenian communities), mineral resources, water, and tech start-ups. The apparent successes in all these spheres ultimately came accompanied by mass emigration, Armenia’s estrangement from its communities, rising mortality, non-compliance with standards, deteriorating and failing infrastructure, and the exodus of technology businesses due to the absence of systematic investment and sound currency policy. The new ‘technological’ revolution therefore differs little from the extractive one: foreign capital brings equipment and money, the country supplies territory and resources and receives, in return, jobs, tax revenue, and a lavish opening ceremony, while the lion’s share of the added value and strategic control stays abroad.

The difference between a technological power and a technological periphery lies no more in the number of GPUs (graphics processing units) than the difference between a resource-rich country and a raw-materials appendage lies in tonnes of ore extracted. It lies in who controls the value chain.

A country that does not respect its own interests cannot become a credible partner simply because the world’s most advanced servers are located on its territory. Instead, it turns into a site for parking others’ assets – and investors care little whether that territory is a UN member state or a formally constituted Turkish colony. The Turkish satrap would have us believe that Artsakh and Section 907 – secured by the Armenian world at such cost – are a worthy price for an AI factory. If that were indeed the case, he would soon have nothing left to sell and would have to declare bankruptcy. The Armenian world must prevent that moment from ever arriving by finally claiming its rightful place as the true representative of Armenian interests on the world stage. We must build a state that determines its own goals, and the means of achieving them, independently. Artificial intelligence may well become such a tool – in the hands of those who possess its natural counterpart to begin with.