International relations are no longer shaped solely by states. Over the past three decades, power has diffused into transnational networks — diasporas, lobbying ecosystems, financial flows, and digital communities that operate across borders with speed and flexibility that governments cannot match. These networks influence legislation, shape media narratives, mobilize capital, and increasingly determine access — often with fewer constraints than formal diplomacy.
Consider the mechanics. In the United States, pro-Israel advocacy networks have helped secure consistent military aid packages exceeding $3.8 billion annually, while maintaining bipartisan political backing for Israel across decades of shifting administrations. At the same time, global Jewish philanthropic networks distribute billions of dollars annually through foundations that fund education, security, and cultural initiatives worldwide. These are not abstract “soft power” tools but structured systems of influence operating continuously across political, economic, and cultural domains.
Armenian networks, while smaller, demonstrate a similar model. Armenian diaspora organizations — particularly in the United States, France, and Russia — have coordinated long-term campaigns that culminated in over 30 countries formally recognizing the Armenian Genocide, including the United States in 2021. In France alone, Armenian advocacy has repeatedly translated into legislative action, public commemorations, and sustained political visibility. These outcomes were not achieved through state leverage, but through persistence of networked influence.
Beyond lobbying, transnational networks operate through economic channels. Armenian business diasporas maintain investment flows into sectors ranging from construction to IT, particularly in Eastern Europe and the Middle East. Jewish networks, for their part, are deeply embedded in global finance, technology, and venture capital ecosystems linking innovation hubs from Tel Aviv to Silicon Valley. These economic linkages create parallel channels of influence that often bypass formal diplomatic constraints.
The scale of these systems is significant. The Jewish diaspora numbers approximately 8–9 million people outside Israel, while the Armenian diaspora is estimated at more than 7 million. Together, these communities represent a combined global network of over 15 million people, embedded across North America, Europe, the Middle East, and beyond.
And yet, despite these structural similarities, cooperation between Jewish and Armenian transnational networks remains minimal. This is a strategic blind spot.
For decades, relations have been framed through a state-centric lens shaped by Israel’s security cooperation with Azerbaijan, energy considerations, and its complex relationship with Turkey. But this perspective overlooks where influence is increasingly generated: below the level of formal diplomacy.
Nowhere is this more evident than in the Turkish factor — not only as a historical issue, but as an active geopolitical variable.
For Armenians, the legacy of the Armenian Genocide — in which up to 1.5 million Armenians perished — remains a central pillar of global identity and political mobilization. Ankara’s continued refusal to fully recognize the events, coupled with its global lobbying efforts to prevent recognition, has turned historical memory into a persistent arena of geopolitical contestation.
For Jews, sensitivity to denialism is deeply rooted in the experience of the Holocaust. But the Turkish dimension today extends beyond memory. Over the past decade, relations between Turkey and Israel have shifted from strategic alignment to recurring confrontation.
Under President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, Ankara has increasingly adopted an assertive regional posture, combining geopolitical expansion with ideological positioning. Diplomatic crises — from the Gaza flotilla raid to repeated ambassador withdrawals and sustained anti-Israel rhetoric — have transformed bilateral relations into a volatile and often adversarial dynamic. Turkish leadership has at times blurred the line between criticism of Israeli policy and broader anti-Jewish narratives, contributing to a more hostile information environment.
Simultaneously, Turkey has expanded its influence across the South Caucasus, the Eastern Mediterranean, and parts of the Middle East. Its close military partnership with Azerbaijan — including direct support during the Nagorno-Karabakh conflicts — has introduced new complexities into Israel’s regional positioning.
This creates an unexpected convergence. For Armenians, Turkey represents unresolved historical trauma combined with ongoing geopolitical pressure. For Jews and Israel, it is an increasingly unpredictable regional actor whose rhetoric and positioning can directly affect diplomatic space and community security. Both communities are therefore navigating not only the legacy of Turkey’s past, but the implications of its present.
That shared experience matters.
According to the Anti-Defamation League’s report, antisemitic attitudes exceed 50 percent in several regions, particularly across the Middle East and North Africa. In Europe, antisemitic incidents have risen steadily over the past decade. Yet in many of these same regions, Armenian communities occupy a different position.
In countries such as Lebanon and Iran, Armenian communities operate as historically rooted and politically neutral minorities, maintaining broad social integration and relatively flexible external connections. Jewish communities, including in Iran, also retain formal recognition — with synagogues, schools, and even a reserved parliamentary seat.
Yet their position is more constrained. Political _expression_ is tightly limited, particularly on issues related to Israel, and community leadership operates within clearly defined boundaries set by the state. This creates a crucial distinction: while Jewish communities maintain continuity, their ability to function as outward-facing transnational networks is often restricted. Armenian networks, by contrast, tend to retain greater flexibility in external engagement, particularly in regions where political sensitivities limit direct Jewish presence.
This asymmetry creates potential complementarity. Armenian networks cannot and should not act as intermediaries for Jewish interests. But they can facilitate indirect channels of engagement, cultural exchange, and perception-building in regions where direct Jewish outreach is limited. In a network-driven world, influence often depends less on formal alliances than on access and trust.
The complementarity runs both ways. Jewish transnational networks remain among the most advanced globally. Their experience in advocacy, coalition-building, and strategic communication has produced measurable outcomes — from sustained international support for Israel to the institutionalization of Holocaust education worldwide. Armenian networks, while effective, remain less systematized.
A structured exchange — sharing advocacy techniques, digital mobilization strategies, and institutional best practices — could strengthen Armenian capacity while expanding Jewish reach into regions where access is otherwise limited.
Crucially, this potential rests on a foundation of relatively positive mutual perception. Armenians, unlike many groups in regions where antisemitism is prevalent, generally view Jews without entrenched hostility. In an era where perception defines the boundaries of engagement, this fact matters.
The case for Jewish-Armenian cooperation is rooted in structural reality. Both are small nations with global footprints. Both rely on diasporas that exceed their populations at home. Both operate in a world where influence is increasingly exercised through networks rather than states. And both face a geopolitical environment in which traditional alliances are less predictable and often insufficient.
Israel has mastered statecraft under difficult conditions. But in a system where transnational networks shape policy, narratives, and access, statecraft alone is no longer enough. The next phase of strategy must look beyond formal alliances — toward partnerships between networks.
Jewish and Armenian diasporas have developed in parallel for centuries, often confronting similar challenges, yet rarely aligning their strengths. That may be one of the most underexplored strategic opportunities of our time. If Jews and Israel continue to think only in terms of states, it risks overlooking the structures that increasingly define global power. And among those structures, the potential alignment between Jewish and Armenian transnational networks is strategically consequential.
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