Transport corridors are increasingly discussed in the
language of large numbers: five million tonnes, ten million,
fifteen million. Maps are drawn, agreements are signed, new names
enter the political vocabulary, and expected cargo volumes are
sometimes announced long before the first commercial shipment has
tested whether the route actually works. My years in transport
logistics taught me to begin from a different point: is there a
real cargo that has an economic reason to use this route? That
simple question remains, in my view, one of the best tests of
whether we are looking at a genuine commercial corridor or merely
at infrastructure with strategic potential.
A case from my own professional experience still
shapes the way I look at the transport geography of the Caucasus
today.
Tabriz → Georgia → Ukraine
In 2016, we were working on the transportation of polymer
products, including polypropylene, from Iran to the Ukrainian
market. The cargo originated in the Tabriz area, while the client
already had an established logistics scheme relying on the Turkish
direction and Turkish ports for onward movement toward Ukraine. Our
task was not geopolitical and had nothing to do with proving that
one country was preferable to another. It was a normal commercial
problem: redesign the chain, calculate the full cost and determine
whether a more efficient solution existed.
On the map, the Turkish option appeared logical. It was
geographically shorter and operationally familiar. Yet when we
calculated the entire chain, including waiting time and the costs
generated by bottlenecks along the existing route, the result
changed. We developed a Georgian solution in which cargo moved from
Tabriz toward Georgia, transloading took place in Tbilisi, and the
shipment then continued toward Ukraine. The route involved more
kilometres and an additional logistics operation, but the total
transportation cost was still approximately 35–40% lower than under
the previous Turkish-port scheme.
That difference is important because it shows what maps often
fail to capture. Distance is only one component of logistics
economics. Waiting time, border performance, transit charges,
administrative restrictions, carrier availability, customs
procedures, transloading, insurance, backhaul possibilities and
predictability can easily outweigh several hundred kilometres of
additional road. In our case, the geographically shorter option
contained a bottleneck whose cost accumulated not only in money but
also in time. Once the entire chain was measured rather than simply
the distance, the longer route became the better route.
The detailed mechanics of this shipment are described in my book
Digital Logistics (Transport) in the case“Transit: Iran–Ukraine,”
beginning on page 163. But the principle is more important than the
exact calculation: a transport corridor cannot be evaluated with a
ruler; it must be evaluated through the total performance of the
logistics chain.
The same case later demonstrated something even more valuable.
One continuation of the Georgian route relied on Upper Lars and
transit through Russia toward Ukraine. When that option became
problematic, the logic of moving the cargo through Georgia did not
disappear. Instead, the continuation changed: Georgia's Black Sea
access provided another possibility, with Poti and Batumi becoming
part of the maritime geography through which cargo could continue
toward Ukraine.
This transformed what had initially been a cost-optimisation
exercise into a lesson about optionality and resilience. A strong
transport system is not simply one that works efficiently under
normal conditions. Its deeper value becomes visible when a border
becomes congested, a transit regime changes, waiting times grow, a
political risk materialises or one transport leg becomes
commercially unattractive. The relevant question then becomes
whether cargo can move to another option without destroying the
economics of the entire shipment.
That is where geography begins to become resilience. The
Georgian route proved useful not because it represented one perfect
line from origin to destination, but because once cargo entered the
Georgian logistics space it could be redirected. The value was
therefore not merely in transit, but in the possibility of
reorganising the chain when circumstances changed.
This is also why I think Georgia's strategic position should be
understood more broadly than its location on any individual
corridor. A cargo entering Georgia can, depending on commercial and
geopolitical conditions, continue north toward Russia, west across
the Black Sea toward Ukraine and European markets, southwest
through Türkiye, east through Azerbaijan and the Caspian toward
Central Asia, or south through Armenia toward Iran, the Persian
Gulf, Iraq and the wider Middle East. Not every direction will be
commercially viable for every commodity, and it does not need to
be. The value of a hub lies precisely in having several realistic
choices.
In the Tabriz case, Tbilisi performed this function on a
relatively small scale. Cargo arrived from the south, an
operational intervention took place, and the chain could then be
reorganised according to cost, accessibility and the conditions of
the moment. Georgia was therefore providing more than kilometres of
transit territory; it was providing a point at which logistics
could be redistributed.
A corridor connects points.
That distinction matters because Georgia's strongest long-term
position may not be to maximise its dependence on one named
corridor, but to increase the number of commercially viable
connections available from its territory.
The Caucasus Was Never a Single Line
There is also a historical reason to look at the region through
this network logic. The work of historian Emil Avdaliani is
particularly useful because it challenges the simplified
representation of the Silk Roads as one continuous East–West route.
In his analysis of Georgia and the Silk Roads, Avdaliani notes that
trade routes through Georgia operated both North–South, continuing
toward Armenia and Iran, and East–West.
His later academic work describes a much broader regional
network linking Dvin, Barda, Ganja, Tbilisi, Ani, Trebizond, Ahlat,
Tabriz and other major commercial centres. His book The Caucasian
Silk Roads and Eurasian Connectivity, 500–1405, presents the
Caucasus as an important connectivity space linking the Eurasian
steppes with the Middle East and the Black Sea with Inner Asia.
This historical perspective suggests that the familiar question
- is the Caucasus primarily East–West or North–South? - may itself
be too restrictive. Historically, the region's strength was
multivectoral. Routes intersected, competed, disappeared, returned
and changed according to security, politics and commercial
incentives. In modern logistics language, that resembles a network
far more than a single corridor.
This matters for today's infrastructure debate because a network
is inherently more valuable when it creates alternatives. The
strategic advantage of a country located inside such a system is
not to place all of its expectations on one line, but to expand the
number of economically functioning connections around it.
Armenia: An Existing North–South Logic
This brings us naturally to Armenia. Much of today's political
discussion is focused on East–West connectivity and particularly on
TRIPP. The Armenia–U.S. Implementation Framework published in
January 2026 describes multimodal connectivity across Armenian
territory linking mainland Azerbaijan with the Nakhchivan
Autonomous Republic and creating a link in the wider Trans-Caspian
Trade Route. The document also speaks about strengthening Armenia's
position as a regional transit and economic hub.
TRIPP is therefore an important regional initiative. But the
current attention surrounding it can create the impression that
Armenia's transport geography is being invented from the beginning.
It is not. Long before the present TRIPP configuration, Armenia had
already developed a clear North–South vision centred on
connectivity between Iran, Armenia, Georgia and the Black Sea.
In April 2021, the Armenian Ministry of Foreign Affairs hosted
the fifth expert meeting on the draft agreement establishing the
Persian Gulf–Black Sea International Transport and Transit
Corridor, with participation from Armenia, Iran, Georgia, Bulgaria
and Greece. The same broader logic later appeared in Armenia's
Crossroads of Peace concept, which envisages greater transport
capacity between the Black Sea and the Persian Gulf and the Gulf of
Oman through Armenia while simultaneously supporting East–West
connectivity. Significantly, the official Armenian formulation
itself speaks of the region as a potential transit hub between East
and West, North and South.
That wording deserves attention because it is much broader than
any single corridor. It reflects essentially the same multivector
logic visible in the historical Caucasus and familiar from
practical logistics: the stronger system is not necessarily the one
with one dominant route, but the one in which several directions
can function at the same time.
TRIPP as One Vector Within a Larger System
The distinction, therefore, is not between TRIPP and North–South
as mutually exclusive choices. TRIPP represents a relatively new
institutional and geopolitical configuration; the North–South logic
does not. Connecting Iran with Armenia, Georgia, and the Black Sea
has existed in Armenian transport policy and regional diplomacy for
years, and the infrastructure supporting that axis continues to
develop. In June 2026, Armenia was still advancing the Kajaran
Tunnel and the Sisian–Kajaran section of the North–South Road
Corridor, both critical elements of the country's southern
transport axis.
The more interesting strategic question for Armenia is therefore
whether East–West and North–South connectivity can reinforce one
another instead of competing for attention. TRIPP can potentially
strengthen Armenia's East–West role, while the axis Iran → Armenia
→ Georgia → Black Sea offers another function: access to part of
the Iranian market and a potential connection between the Persian
Gulf region and the Black Sea.
This should not necessarily be framed as an alternative to
TRIPP. It is strategically more useful to understand it as another
vector inside a wider network. For a relatively small transit
economy, that distinction is fundamental. Being one section of a
cargo flow generated by other economies can certainly create value;
being connected to several independent directions creates
additional strategic flexibility and resilience.
There is, however, a qualification that applies equally to
TRIPP, North–South, the Middle Corridor and almost every other
transport initiative in the region: infrastructure itself does not
create a commercial corridor. A road can be completed, a tunnel
opened and an international agreement signed, but none of these
guarantees that cargo will actually arrive.
The Iran–Armenia–Georgia–Black Sea hypothesis should therefore
be tested in the most practical possible way. Take a real commodity
and a real producer in Iran. Calculate the movement through Armenia
and Georgia, including both borders, customs procedures, carrier
cost, transit charges, insurance, waiting time, possible
transloading and the Black Sea leg. Then compare the resulting
total logistics cost, transit time, reliability and predictability
with the available alternatives through Türkiye, Azerbaijan or
other routes. Repeat the same calculation for another cargo and
then another.
Only after those exercises do forecasts of five, ten or fifteen
million tonnes become meaningful.
Cargo does not move because a corridor has acquired a political
name. It moves because somebody calculates cost, time, reliability,
predictability and alternatives and decides that one chain is
better than another.
Our Tabriz case demonstrated precisely that logic. The Turkish
route was geographically shorter, yet waiting time and bottlenecks
changed its actual economics. The Georgian route involved more
kilometres and transloading, yet reduced transportation costs by
roughly 35–40%. When the Russian continuation became problematic, a
Black Sea continuation remained available. What made the system
valuable was not the perfection of one route, but the existence of
alternatives.
The Caucasus as a Network
That is why I believe the Caucasus should increasingly be
analysed not as a competition between individual lines on a map,
but as an interconnected logistics system. For Georgia, the
strategic opportunity lies in deepening its function as a
distribution and logistics hub connecting the Black Sea, Russia,
Türkiye, the Caspian, Central Asia, Armenia, Iran and the wider
Middle East. For Armenia, the opportunity is to ensure that new
East–West projects do not push an older and potentially equally
important North–South function out of strategic focus. For the
region as a whole, resilience may ultimately depend less on
discovering one dominant corridor than on maintaining several
commercially viable routes capable of supporting or substituting
for one another as conditions change.
This is also why the historical experience of the Caucasus
remains relevant. The Silk Roads were never one road; they were
networks that changed as political and economic conditions changed.
Modern logistics follows the same basic logic. Road and rail, land
and sea, East–West and North–South, primary routes and alternatives
are not necessarily competitors. Their combined value lies in the
options they create.
TRIPP can be one element of that system. It does not have to
become the system itself.
The stronger model for the Caucasus is multivectoral: a
geography in which cargo can enter, be redistributed and continue
through several commercially rational directions. Ultimately, that
is what transforms infrastructure into connectivity and transit
territory into a logistics hub.
And perhaps the simplest test remains the one with which this
article began: not how many millions of tonnes a map promises, but
whether a real cargo, facing real costs and real bottlenecks,
chooses the route.
-------------------------------------
The author is an Operation Risk Advisor specializing in
Transport & Supply Chain, and Digital Logistics. He is the Founder
and CEO of GTS Group, focusing on the South Caucasus and Middle
Corridor.
When the Route Had to Change
The same case later demonstrated something even more
valuable. One continuation of the Georgian route relied on Upper
Lars and transit through Russia toward Ukraine. When that option
became problematic, the logic of moving the cargo through Georgia
did not disappear. Instead, the continuation changed: Georgia's
Black Sea access provided another possibility, with Poti and Batumi
becoming part of the maritime geography through which cargo could
continue toward Ukraine.
This transformed what had initially been a
cost-optimisation exercise into a lesson about optionality
and resilience. A strong transport system is not simply
one that works efficiently under normal conditions. Its deeper
value becomes visible when a border becomes congested, a transit
regime changes, waiting times grow, a political risk materialises
or one transport leg becomes commercially unattractive. The
relevant question then becomes whether cargo can move to another
option without destroying the economics of the entire shipment.
That is where geography begins to become resilience.
The Georgian route proved useful not because it represented one
perfect line from origin to destination, but because once cargo
entered the Georgian logistics space it could be redirected. The
value was therefore not merely in transit, but in the possibility
of reorganising the chain when circumstances changed.
From Corridor to Hub
This is also why I think Georgia's strategic position
should be understood more broadly than its location on any
individual corridor. A cargo entering Georgia can, depending on
commercial and geopolitical conditions, continue north toward
Russia, west across the Black Sea toward Ukraine and European
markets, southwest through Türkiye, east through Azerbaijan and the
Caspian toward Central Asia, or south through Armenia toward Iran,
the Persian Gulf, Iraq and the wider Middle East. Not every
direction will be commercially viable for every commodity, and it
does not need to be. The value of a hub lies precisely in having
several realistic choices.
In the Tabriz case, Tbilisi performed this function on
a relatively small scale. Cargo arrived from the south, an
operational intervention took place, and the chain could then be
reorganised according to cost, accessibility and the conditions of
the moment. Georgia was therefore providing more than kilometres of
transit territory; it was providing a point at which logistics
could be redistributed.
A corridor connects points. A hub connects
networks.
That distinction matters because Georgia's strongest
long-term position may not be to maximise its dependence on one
named corridor, but to increase the number of commercially viable
connections available from its territory.
The Caucasus Was Never a Single Line
There is also a historical reason to look at the
region through this network logic. The work of historian Emil
Avdaliani is particularly useful because it challenges the
simplified representation of the Silk Roads as one continuous
East–West route. In his analysis of Georgia and the Silk Roads,
Avdaliani notes that trade routes through Georgia operated both
North–South, continuing toward Armenia and Iran, and
East–West.
His later academic work describes a much broader
regional network linking Dvin, Barda, Ganja, Tbilisi, Ani,
Trebizond, Ahlat, Tabriz and other major
commercial centres. His book The Caucasian Silk Roads and
Eurasian Connectivity, 500–1405 presents the Caucasus as an
important connectivity space linking the Eurasian steppes with the
Middle East and the Black Sea with Inner Asia.
This historical perspective suggests that the familiar
question - is the Caucasus primarily East–West or North–South? -
may itself be too restrictive. Historically, the region's strength
was multivectoral. Routes intersected, competed,
disappeared, returned and changed according to security, politics
and commercial incentives. In modern logistics language, that
resembles a network far more than a single corridor.
This matters for today's infrastructure debate because
a network is inherently more valuable when it creates alternatives.
The strategic advantage of a country located inside such a system
is not to place all of its expectations on one line, but to expand
the number of economically functioning connections around it.
Armenia: An Existing North–South Logic
This brings us naturally to Armenia. Much of today's
political discussion is focused on East–West connectivity and
particularly on TRIPP. The Armenia–U.S. Implementation Framework
published in January 2026 describes multimodal connectivity across
Armenian territory linking mainland Azerbaijan with the Nakhchivan
Autonomous Republic and creating a link in the wider Trans-Caspian
Trade Route. The document also speaks about strengthening Armenia's
position as a regional transit and economic hub.
TRIPP is therefore an important regional initiative.
But the current attention surrounding it can create the impression
that Armenia's transport geography is being invented from the
beginning. It is not. Long before the present TRIPP configuration,
Armenia had already developed a clear North–South vision centred on
connectivity between Iran, Armenia, Georgia and the Black Sea.
In April 2021, the Armenian Ministry of Foreign
Affairs hosted the fifth expert meeting on the
draft agreement establishing the Persian Gulf–Black Sea
International Transport and Transit Corridor, with participation
from Armenia, Iran, Georgia, Bulgaria and Greece. The same broader
logic later appeared in Armenia's Crossroads of
Peace concept, which envisages greater transport capacity
between the Black Sea and the Persian Gulf and Gulf of Oman through
Armenia while simultaneously supporting East–West connectivity.
Significantly, the official Armenian formulation itself speaks of
the region as a potential transit hub between East and
West, North and South.
That wording deserves attention because it is much
broader than any single corridor. It reflects essentially the same
multivector logic visible in the historical Caucasus and familiar
from practical logistics: the stronger system is not necessarily
the one with one dominant route, but the one in which several
directions can function at the same time.
TRIPP as One Vector Within a Larger System
The distinction, therefore, is not between TRIPP and
North–South as mutually exclusive choices. TRIPP represents a
relatively new institutional and geopolitical configuration; the
North–South logic does not. Connecting Iran with Armenia, Georgia
and the Black Sea has existed in Armenian transport policy and
regional diplomacy for years, and the infrastructure supporting
that axis continues to develop. In June 2026, Armenia was still
advancing the Kajaran Tunnel and the Sisian–Kajaran section of the
North–South Road Corridor, both critical elements of the country's
southern transport axis.
The more interesting strategic question for Armenia is
therefore whether East–West and North–South connectivity can
reinforce one another instead of competing for attention. TRIPP can
potentially strengthen Armenia's East–West role, while the axis
Iran → Armenia → Georgia → Black Sea offers
another function: access to part of the Iranian market and a
potential connection between the Persian Gulf region and the Black
Sea.
This should not necessarily be framed as an
alternative to TRIPP. It is strategically more useful to understand
it as another vector inside a wider network. For a
relatively small transit economy, that distinction is fundamental.
Being one section of a cargo flow generated by other economies can
certainly create value; being connected to several independent
directions creates additional strategic flexibility and
resilience.
Infrastructure Is Necessary; Cargo Is the Test
There is, however, a qualification that applies
equally to TRIPP, North–South, the Middle Corridor and almost every
other transport initiative in the region: infrastructure itself
does not create a commercial corridor. A road can be completed, a
tunnel opened and an international agreement signed, but none of
these guarantees that cargo will actually arrive.
The Iran–Armenia–Georgia–Black Sea hypothesis should
therefore be tested in the most practical possible way. Take a real
commodity and a real producer in Iran. Calculate the movement
through Armenia and Georgia, including both borders, customs
procedures, carrier cost, transit charges, insurance, waiting time,
possible transloading and the Black Sea leg. Then compare the
resulting total logistics cost, transit time, reliability
and predictability with the available alternatives through
Türkiye, Azerbaijan or other routes. Repeat the same calculation
for another cargo and then another.
Only after those exercises do forecasts of five, ten
or fifteen million tonnes become meaningful.
Cargo does not move because a corridor has acquired a
political name. It moves because somebody calculates cost,
time, reliability, predictability and alternatives and
decides that one chain is better than another.
Our Tabriz case demonstrated precisely that logic. The
Turkish route was geographically shorter, yet waiting time and
bottlenecks changed its actual economics. The Georgian route
involved more kilometres and transloading, yet reduced
transportation costs by roughly 35–40%. When the
Russian continuation became problematic, a Black Sea continuation
remained available. What made the system valuable was not the
perfection of one route, but the existence of alternatives.
The Caucasus as a Network
That is why I believe the Caucasus should increasingly
be analysed not as a competition between individual lines on a map,
but as an interconnected logistics system. For Georgia, the
strategic opportunity lies in deepening its function as a
distribution and logistics hub connecting the
Black Sea, Russia, Türkiye, the Caspian, Central Asia, Armenia,
Iran and the wider Middle East. For Armenia, the opportunity is to
ensure that new East–West projects do not push an older and
potentially equally important North–South function out of strategic
focus. For the region as a whole, resilience may ultimately depend
less on discovering one dominant corridor than on maintaining
several commercially viable routes capable of supporting or
substituting for one another as conditions change.
This is also why the historical experience of the
Caucasus remains relevant. The Silk Roads were never one road; they
were networks that changed as political and economic conditions
changed. Modern logistics follows the same basic logic. Road and
rail, land and sea, East–West and North–South, primary routes and
alternatives are not necessarily competitors. Their combined value
lies in the options they create.
TRIPP can be one element of that system. It
does not have to become the system itself.
The stronger model for the Caucasus is multivectoral:
a geography in which cargo can enter, be redistributed and continue
through several commercially rational directions. Ultimately, that
is what transforms infrastructure into connectivity and transit
territory into a logistics hub.
And perhaps the simplest test remains the one with
which this article began: not how many millions of tonnes a map
promises, but whether a real cargo, facing real costs and real
bottlenecks, chooses the route. riz → Georgia →
Ukraine
In 2016, we were working on the transportation of
polymer products, including polypropylene, from Iran to the
Ukrainian market. The cargo originated in the Tabriz area, while
the client already had an established logistics scheme relying on
the Turkish direction and Turkish ports for onward movement toward
Ukraine. Our task was not geopolitical and had nothing to do with
proving that one country was preferable to another. It was a normal
commercial problem: redesign the chain, calculate the full cost and
determine whether a more efficient solution existed.
On the map, the Turkish option appeared logical. It
was geographically shorter and operationally familiar. Yet when we
calculated the entire chain, including waiting time and the costs
generated by bottlenecks along the existing route, the result
changed. We developed a Georgian solution in which cargo moved from
Tabriz toward Georgia, transloading took place in Tbilisi, and the
shipment then continued toward Ukraine. The route involved more
kilometres and an additional logistics operation, but the total
transportation cost was still approximately 35–40%
lower than under the previous Turkish-port scheme.
That difference is important because it shows what
maps often fail to capture. Distance is only one component of
logistics economics. Waiting time, border performance, transit
charges, administrative restrictions, carrier availability, customs
procedures, transloading, insurance, backhaul possibilities and
predictability can easily outweigh several hundred kilometres of
additional road. In our case, the geographically shorter option
contained a bottleneck whose cost accumulated not only in money but
also in time. Once the entire chain was measured rather than simply
the distance, the longer route became the better route.
The detailed mechanics of this shipment are described
in my book Digital Logistics (Transport) in the case
“Transit: Iran–Ukraine,” beginning on page 163.
But the principle is more important than the exact calculation:
a transport corridor cannot be evaluated with a ruler; it
must be evaluated through the total performance of the logistics
chain.
When the Route Had to Change
The same case later demonstrated something even more
valuable. One continuation of the Georgian route relied on Upper
Lars and transit through Russia toward Ukraine. When that option
became problematic, the logic of moving the cargo through Georgia
did not disappear. Instead, the continuation changed: Georgia's
Black Sea access provided another possibility, with Poti and Batumi
becoming part of the maritime geography through which cargo could
continue toward Ukraine.
This transformed what had initially been a
cost-optimisation exercise into a lesson about optionality
and resilience. A strong transport system is not simply
one that works efficiently under normal conditions. Its deeper
value becomes visible when a border becomes congested, a transit
regime changes, waiting times grow, a political risk materialises
or one transport leg becomes commercially unattractive. The
relevant question then becomes whether cargo can move to another
option without destroying the economics of the entire shipment.
That is where geography begins to become resilience.
The Georgian route proved useful not because it represented one
perfect line from origin to destination, but because once cargo
entered the Georgian logistics space it could be redirected. The
value was therefore not merely in transit, but in the possibility
of reorganising the chain when circumstances changed.
From Corridor to Hub
This is also why I think Georgia's strategic position
should be understood more broadly than its location on any
individual corridor. A cargo entering Georgia can, depending on
commercial and geopolitical conditions, continue north toward
Russia, west across the Black Sea toward Ukraine and European
markets, southwest through Türkiye, east through Azerbaijan and the
Caspian toward Central Asia, or south through Armenia toward Iran,
the Persian Gulf, Iraq and the wider Middle East. Not every
direction will be commercially viable for every commodity, and it
does not need to be. The value of a hub lies precisely in having
several realistic choices.
In the Tabriz case, Tbilisi performed this function on
a relatively small scale. Cargo arrived from the south, an
operational intervention took place, and the chain could then be
reorganised according to cost, accessibility and the conditions of
the moment. Georgia was therefore providing more than kilometres of
transit territory; it was providing a point at which logistics
could be redistributed.
A corridor connects points. A hub connects
networks.
That distinction matters because Georgia's strongest
long-term position may not be to maximise its dependence on one
named corridor, but to increase the number of commercially viable
connections available from its territory.
The Caucasus Was Never a Single
Line
There is also a historical reason to look at the
region through this network logic. The work of historian Emil
Avdaliani is particularly useful because it challenges the
simplified representation of the Silk Roads as one continuous
East–West route. In his analysis of Georgia and the Silk Roads,
Avdaliani notes that trade routes through Georgia operated both
North–South, continuing toward Armenia and Iran, and
East–West.
His later academic work describes a much broader
regional network linking Dvin, Barda, Ganja, Tbilisi, Ani,
Trebizond, Ahlat, Tabriz and other major
commercial centres. His book The Caucasian Silk Roads and
Eurasian Connectivity, 500–1405 presents the Caucasus as an
important connectivity space linking the Eurasian steppes with the
Middle East and the Black Sea with Inner Asia.
This historical perspective suggests that the familiar
question - is the Caucasus primarily East–West or North–South? -
may itself be too restrictive. Historically, the region's strength
was multivectoral. Routes intersected, competed,
disappeared, returned and changed according to security, politics
and commercial incentives. In modern logistics language, that
resembles a network far more than a single corridor.
This matters for today's infrastructure debate because
a network is inherently more valuable when it creates alternatives.
The strategic advantage of a country located inside such a system
is not to place all of its expectations on one line, but to expand
the number of economically functioning connections around it.
Armenia: An Existing North–South Logic
This brings us naturally to Armenia. Much of today's
political discussion is focused on East–West connectivity and
particularly on TRIPP. The Armenia–U.S. Implementation Framework
published in January 2026 describes multimodal connectivity across
Armenian territory linking mainland Azerbaijan with the Nakhchivan
Autonomous Republic and creating a link in the wider Trans-Caspian
Trade Route. The document also speaks about strengthening Armenia's
position as a regional transit and economic hub.
TRIPP is therefore an important regional initiative.
But the current attention surrounding it can create the impression
that Armenia's transport geography is being invented from the
beginning. It is not. Long before the present TRIPP configuration,
Armenia had already developed a clear North–South vision centred on
connectivity between Iran, Armenia, Georgia and the Black Sea.
In April 2021, the Armenian Ministry of Foreign
Affairs hosted the fifth expert meeting on the
draft agreement establishing the Persian Gulf–Black Sea
International Transport and Transit Corridor, with participation
from Armenia, Iran, Georgia, Bulgaria and Greece. The same broader
logic later appeared in Armenia's Crossroads of
Peace concept, which envisages greater transport capacity
between the Black Sea and the Persian Gulf and Gulf of Oman through
Armenia while simultaneously supporting East–West connectivity.
Significantly, the official Armenian formulation itself speaks of
the region as a potential transit hub between East and
West, North and South.
That wording deserves attention because it is much
broader than any single corridor. It reflects essentially the same
multivector logic visible in the historical Caucasus and familiar
from practical logistics: the stronger system is not necessarily
the one with one dominant route, but the one in which several
directions can function at the same time.
TRIPP as One Vector Within a Larger System
The distinction, therefore, is not between TRIPP and
North–South as mutually exclusive choices. TRIPP represents a
relatively new institutional and geopolitical configuration; the
North–South logic does not. Connecting Iran with Armenia, Georgia
and the Black Sea has existed in Armenian transport policy and
regional diplomacy for years, and the infrastructure supporting
that axis continues to develop. In June 2026, Armenia was still
advancing the Kajaran Tunnel and the Sisian–Kajaran section of the
North–South Road Corridor, both critical elements of the country's
southern transport axis.
The more interesting strategic question for Armenia is
therefore whether East–West and North–South connectivity can
reinforce one another instead of competing for attention. TRIPP can
potentially strengthen Armenia's East–West role, while the axis
Iran → Armenia → Georgia → Black Sea offers
another function: access to part of the Iranian market and a
potential connection between the Persian Gulf region and the Black
Sea.
This should not necessarily be framed as an
alternative to TRIPP. It is strategically more useful to understand
it as another vector inside a wider network. For a
relatively small transit economy, that distinction is fundamental.
Being one section of a cargo flow generated by other economies can
certainly create value; being connected to several independent
directions creates additional strategic flexibility and
resilience.
Infrastructure Is Necessary; Cargo Is the Test
There is, however, a qualification that applies
equally to TRIPP, North–South, the Middle Corridor and almost every
other transport initiative in the region: infrastructure itself
does not create a commercial corridor. A road can be completed, a
tunnel opened and an international agreement signed, but none of
these guarantees that cargo will actually arrive.
The Iran–Armenia–Georgia–Black Sea hypothesis should
therefore be tested in the most practical possible way. Take a real
commodity and a real producer in Iran. Calculate the movement
through Armenia and Georgia, including both borders, customs
procedures, carrier cost, transit charges, insurance, waiting time,
possible transloading and the Black Sea leg. Then compare the
resulting total logistics cost, transit time, reliability
and predictability with the available alternatives through
Türkiye, Azerbaijan or other routes. Repeat the same calculation
for another cargo and then another.
Only after those exercises do forecasts of five, ten
or fifteen million tonnes become meaningful.
Cargo does not move because a corridor has acquired a
political name. It moves because somebody calculates cost,
time, reliability, predictability and alternatives and
decides that one chain is better than another.
Our Tabriz case demonstrated precisely that logic. The
Turkish route was geographically shorter, yet waiting time and
bottlenecks changed its actual economics. The Georgian route
involved more kilometres and transloading, yet reduced
transportation costs by roughly 35–40%. When the
Russian continuation became problematic, a Black Sea continuation
remained available. What made the system valuable was not the
perfection of one route, but the existence of alternatives.
The Caucasus as a Network
That is why I believe the Caucasus should increasingly
be analysed not as a competition between individual lines on a map,
but as an interconnected logistics system. For Georgia, the
strategic opportunity lies in deepening its function as a
distribution and logistics hub connecting the
Black Sea, Russia, Türkiye, the Caspian, Central Asia, Armenia,
Iran and the wider Middle East. For Armenia, the opportunity is to
ensure that new East–West projects do not push an older and
potentially equally important North–South function out of strategic
focus. For the region as a whole, resilience may ultimately depend
less on discovering one dominant corridor than on maintaining
several commercially viable routes capable of supporting or
substituting for one another as conditions change.
This is also why the historical experience of the
Caucasus remains relevant. The Silk Roads were never one road; they
were networks that changed as political and economic conditions
changed. Modern logistics follows the same basic logic. Road and
rail, land and sea, East–West and North–South, primary routes and
alternatives are not necessarily competitors. Their combined value
lies in the options they create.
TRIPP can be one element of that system. It
does not have to become the system itself.
The stronger model for the Caucasus is multivectoral:
a geography in which cargo can enter, be redistributed and continue
through several commercially rational directions. Ultimately, that
is what transforms infrastructure into connectivity and transit
territory into a logistics hub.
And perhaps the simplest test remains the one with
which this article began: not how many millions of tonnes a map
promises, but whether a real cargo, facing real costs and real
bottlenecks, chooses the route.
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The views and opinions expressed by guest columnists
in their articles may differ from those of the editorial board and
do not necessarily reflect its view
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