Quick Read
- Interviews used in an Azerbaijani film about Ruben Vardanyan were recorded in Armenia for a different project.
- Participants and Armenia-based organizer Mikheil Dishunts say they were not informed the footage could appear in a film for propaganda purposes.
- A 1.5-hour film about Vardanyan was published on the AnewZ YouTube channel on December 20, 2025.
- The film is in Azerbaijani, Russian, and English and repurposes interviews on other topics to bolster a political narrative.
The Armenian investigative outlet HETQ has reported that a portion of the interviews featured in the Azerbaijani documentary about Armenian businessman Ruben Vardanyan were filmed in Armenia, not in Azerbaijan. The findings come as researchers and journalists scrutinize how footage can be repurposed to serve political aims, sometimes without the consent or even the awareness of the individuals who gave the interviews. The report centers on the documentary titled “The Oligarch’s Project,” which was released in multiple languages and used a mix of previously conducted interview material and new footage to advance a narrative about Vardanyan’s alleged influence and activities.
Ruben Vardanyan, a prominent Armenian entrepreneur and former Armenian government official, was detained under controversial circumstances at the Hakari Bridge on September 27, 2023, during mass displacements of the Artsakh population. He was subsequently transferred to Baku, where authorities pressed a series of charges that the film frames as serious offenses, including “financing terrorism” and “organizing formations not prescribed by law.” The case has drawn regional and international attention, fueling debates about due process, the treatment of political dissidents, and the mechanics of propaganda in a conflict zone where information is a critical battleground.
The Azerbaijani film in question is described by its producers as a comprehensive portrait of a “businessman under constraint” in the context of the ongoing Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. It was released in Azerbaijani, Russian, and English, and, according to HETQ, includes interviews that had been conducted years earlier for different subjects. The film’s inclusion of these interviews—without clear disclosure about their original context—has led observers to question whether the material was adapted to support a specific political agenda rather than presenting the speakers’ statements as originally intended.
The core of HETQ’s investigation centers on the people who spoke on camera and the organizer behind the Armenia-based filming logistics, Mikayel Dishunts (Միքայել Դիշունց). Interviews were conducted in Armenia for topics unrelated to Vardanyan and the charges now appearing in Azerbaijani media. Dishunts and several interviewees say they were not informed that the material could be used in a film produced outside Armenia or in a different political-leaning framework. In several cases, participants report learning about the film’s subject matter only after the production was completed or after it had already been released, which raises concerns about consent and the ethical handling of documentary footage.
From a media ethics perspective, the situation underscores a broader problem: the repurposing of interview material across borders to fit a narrative can distort the original context and undermine the trust of participants. When a source appears in a film that frames them within a charged political dispute, the line between journalism and propaganda becomes increasingly blurry. Analysts note that even if interviews are legally sourced or publicly available, the way they are edited and presented can significantly alter meaning. The Azerbaijani project, which is described as a documentary, appears to be heavily edited to emphasize certain themes about national security, sovereignty, and the alleged influence of Armenian business elites in regional politics. Critics argue that the selective use of quotes, juxtaposition with other footage, and lack of context can mislead audiences about the interviewees’ positions and the factual basis of the claims made in the film.
HETQ’s inquiry relied on cross-referencing the film’s credits, publicly posted footprints on social media and YouTube, and direct outreach to individuals who had given interviews that the film later repurposed. The outlet confirmed that at least some participants were unaware of the possibility that their remarks could be used in a separate project, especially one framed around highly sensitive geopolitical tensions. The organizer, Dishunts, contends that interviewees were properly informed in their own time and that the footage existed within Armenia’s documentary ecosystem without any explicit restriction on future use. The disagreement highlights a potential gap in international documentary ethics: even when participants sign general release forms, they may not foresee the material’s use in a foreign-language, politically charged production years later.
The film’s release on December 20, 2025, on AnewZ’s YouTube channel added new layers to the discussion. AnewZ is an Azerbaijani international media platform with a history of producing content intended to shape public opinion on regional conflicts. The 90-minute-plus piece (the outlet later described it as a 1.5-hour production) is presented in multiple languages, a tactic that broadens its reach but also complicates the interpretation of the interviews for audiences who do not share the same cultural or linguistic context as the speakers. Proponents of the film argue that it offers a crucial perspective on the alleged activities of figures connected to Armenia’s political and economic spheres. Critics, however, say that the film’s editing choices—particularly the recycling of older material and the absence of transparent disclosure about context—risk distorting the public’s understanding of the individuals involved and the legal proceedings surrounding Vardanyan.
Beyond the specifics of the interviews, the broader question remains: what responsibility do documentary filmmakers have when their projects enter the realm of political propaganda? In the Nagorno-Karabakh context, where information warfare has a tangible impact on real communities, the ethical standard for sourcing, contextualizing, and presenting material becomes a matter of international concern. Journalists and scholars argue for rigorous transparency: clearly labeling re-used footage, providing original context or annotations that explain the original interview topics, and obtaining explicit consent for re-purposing material in politically charged outlets or languages that may alter the viewer’s perception of the subject. The HETQ report calls for such transparency and argues that without it, audiences risk being swayed by a narrative that does not faithfully reflect the interviewees’ actual statements or intentions.
In addition to ethical considerations, there is a practical dimension. The film’s framing—whether intended as a critical examination, a cautionary portrait, or a tool of political persuasion—has real consequences for the individuals depicted and for the communities that may be affected by the narrative. Ruben Vardanyan’s case remains a flashpoint in a region with a history of contested narratives, where each new documentary or op-ed can be weaponized to mobilize support or demonize opponents. As researchers continue to analyze the film’s content and its contextual footprint, media outlets and audiences alike are urged to scrutinize the sourcing, timing, and linguistic presentation of the interviews. The goal is not to suppress storytelling but to elevate accountability so that viewers can distinguish between independent reporting, contextualized history, and deliberate propaganda.
Ultimately, the case highlights a critical lesson for international journalism: context matters as much as content. When materials are relocated across borders and recontextualized to support a political argument, it is essential to provide clear disclosures, verify original topics, and acknowledge the potential for misinterpretation. The Armenian investigative outlet’s findings contribute to a growing conversation about media ethics in conflict zones and the responsibility of filmmakers—across languages and jurisdictions—to respect the integrity of the voices they record. As audiences in Armenia, Azerbaijan, and around the world watch the same footage with different frames of reference, transparency becomes the only path to a fair and accurate public discourse about individuals like Ruben Vardanyan and the complex dynamics of regional geopolitics.
In light of these developments, analysts emphasize that the conversation should move beyond the sensational aspects of a single film. It should focus on the standards that govern international documentary practices: explicit consent for reuse, clear location and context for all footage, and ongoing accountability for how material is framed in the service of political narratives. The ongoing debate reflects the broader struggle over information in a divided region, where every documentary, every interview, and every release date can become a political turning point. The responsibility now lies with filmmakers, distributors, and media platforms to ensure that the voices captured on camera are not merely instruments in a propaganda machine, but contributors to informed, nuanced public understanding.
Final analysis: The emerging pattern suggests that even legitimate interviews can be weaponized when cut and framed without full context, underscoring the urgent need for transparent sourcing, consent, and contextual labeling in documentary work touching political conflicts.

