Image by Arzu Geybullayeva, created using Canva Pro.
On June 23, the Baku Grave Crimes Court sentenced Bahruz Samadov, a peaceful dissident whose case illustrates the regime's stance on opposition, to 15 years in prison. Samadov was detained on August 21, 2024. Two days later, accused of conspiring against the state by communicating with Armenian nationals on WhatsApp, he received a four-month pretrial detention on treason charges. From the day of his arrest, the young scholar called the charges bogus, saying they were directly linked to his peaceful activism and criticism of the government, both during the Second Karabakh War and in its aftermath.
In recent years, Samadov – who was pursuing a PhD degree at Charles University in the Czech Republic – also penned a series of opinion pieces on Azerbaijan for various international and regional media. Prior to his arrest, he was targeted for his open calls for peace.
On June 30, Abzas Media, an independent, investigative journalism outlet whose entire Baku team was sentenced to lengthy jail times on June 20, released an interview with Samadov. The interviewer, Ulviyya Ali, is among scores of other journalists who have been arrested in Azerbaijan, and are either awaiting trial in pretrial detention on trumped up criminal charges.
In the interview, which took place at the Baku Pretrial Detention Center Medical Treatment Facility, Samadov did not mince words about his experience and his mental state after hearing his sentence, confirming that he had attempted suicide. “I thought with my death, I would send a message as a last word to the state the country is in,” he told Ali, adding that he will “never forget the trauma” – how he was treated “like a terrorist,” and silenced for his “peaceful stance.”
Shortly after Samadov's arrest, several of his friends were questioned as witnesses. Samad Shikhi, himself a young writer, was about to board a flight when he was approached by two men telling him there was an issue with his checked in bag. “I knew right then what was happening,” Shikhi told Global Voices in a recent interview.
Shikhi was interrogated under duress in harsh conditions, but eventually let go. However, he was handed a travel ban, and made to promise he will stay silent and post nothing on his social media accounts. About a month ago, after nine months of living in a constant state of anxiety over his safety, Shikhi was able to leave Azerbaijan. The trauma, however, is still very much present. “I have been unable to write a single word,” he told Global Voices. “For now, I am focusing on resting and eventually, will start thinking of what is next for me.”
Global Voices also interviewed Cavid Agha, an independent researcher from Azerbaijan, who was en route to Lithuania to pursue his studies when he was stopped at the airport as part of the investigation into Samadov's alleged crime. “They took me for interrogation [and] one of the first things they said was, ‘You are here because you are Bahruz’s close contact.’ I was surprised, because Bahruz didn’t even have my number. But I immediately understood what was happening — I knew his phone was likely under surveillance even before his arrest. They mentioned a photo of us they had found on his device. I hadn’t seen it, but I knew exactly which one they were referring to — it was taken when we briefly reconnected,” Agha recounted.
Similar to Shikhi's experience, Agha was questioned at the State Security Service. In his case, however, his interrogators did not resort to ill-treatment. Describing it as a “psychological chess game,” Agha remained calm throughout the 12-hour session and remembers his interrogator telling him, “Normally, people start shaking from fear when they sit in front me, but you are too calm” – to which he responded, “It is because I have done nothing to fear.” Like Shikhi, Agha was placed under a travel ban, which was subsequently lifted, allowing him to leave the country, although he had to postpone his educational plans.
Reflecting on the broader context, Agha emphasized that the post-war period in Azerbaijan has led to a heightened state of paranoia rather than national renewal. Despite official narratives about a restored national pride following the country's victory, domestic reforms rang hallow and restrictive legal amendments – like the new laws on media and political parties or the suppression of war veteran protests – revealed deep societal fatigue and disillusionment with the state's patriotic narrative.
The notion of unity that many supporters of the war envisioned happening once the country won, was never fulfilled. Instead, the regime resorted to more surveillance and repression. Agha drew parallels between Azerbaijan’s post-war trajectory and other historical instances whereby victory often led not to peace, but to greater authoritarianism. Scores of activist bloggers based abroad, for example, have been targeted with criminal investigations, which Agha suggested attests to the government's increasing paranoia over opposition voices in exile.
Rather than being an isolated case, therefore, Samadov’s 15-year sentence is emblematic of a government increasingly threatened by dissent – evidenced by the state's sweeping definition of treason, its reach into private communications, and its willingness to impose travel bans and open transnational investigations.
As Azerbaijan navigates its post-war identity, the fate of young thinkers like Samadov suggests that victory on the battlefield has not translated into democratic confidence but rather, into deepening repression, leaving scholars, writers, and researchers – both at home and abroad – with the feeling that attempts to silence their voices may not solely be about punishing individuals, but about erasing alternative futures.
