RA Prime Minister's wife, Anna Hakobyan, made a post on her Facebook page where she referred to the situation in the country. The post states explicitly:

"Betrayal is death. At the moment of infidelity, death is recorded, and the relationship that previously existed between two arbitrary entities dies. And what is dead must be buried. Otherwise, it will rot.
When infidelity occurs between spouses, people start arguing about who is to blame, look for cause-and-effect relationships, and move away from each other in most cases.
In this way, they punish each other and simultaneously look for a new relationship in the hope that it will bring them happiness. In all the noise of blaming each other, however, they forget to register the death and bury the dead. Everything is in its mortal shell and goes to find a new relationship, a new happiness.
When there is treason between the fatherland and the child of the land, it is all the same—the relationship between the two dies. And the motherland and its child are moving away from each other. Our centuries-old history is a witness.
It is difficult to say who is punishing whom, but the motherland remains without its child, alone and without an owner. The child remains without a homeland. Everyone shakes off their dead and goes on to find a new relationship, a new happiness. Something that is not found. Our centuries-old history is a witness.
Because there is no happiness for the homeland without its child, and there is no happiness for the child without its land.
And so, one day, in the end, we must recognize the relationship between us and our motherland as dead, bury the five-thousand-year-old dead, and allow new connections, adulterous relationships, and the birth of further happiness.
This means stopping the noise; Paul was guilty, no, Peter was guilty, no, Bartholomew was more culpable. The previous ones were to blame for looting the country for 30 years, no, the present ones are to blame for not filling the hole dug by all of us for 30 years in two years, and we fell into it as a nation. It was the fault of the ally that it did not arrive; no, it was the fault of the enemy that it had more partners; it was the fault of the international community that it was indifferent; it is the fault of the European standards that they came out double, it is the fault of the big countries that they did not give weapons. The smaller ones are responsible for not having weapons to provide, polar bears of the Arctic Ocean are to blame for disappearing, Armenian luck is to blame, and hindsight is to blame. As a result, our fate is to blame.
Am I? What do you think about me? I was a deputy; I was a minister; I was a governor; I was a diplomat; I was a businessman; I was a professor, I was a doctor, I was a teacher, I was a translator, I was an artist, I was a programmer, I was a genius, I was a talent, I was a genius. At the back, we were more needed.
Me? What do you think about me? I organized fundraisers on the sidewalks of other countries; I wrote letters to international organizations day and night; I collected cigarettes and cookies for the boys; I bought thermal imaging devices; I provided our heroes with a tent and a blanket; I sent fur clothes and shoes for the lion boys. I sent and shipped shipments of drugs, shipped weapons in airplanes, organized rallies in other countries demanding attention from foreigners, picked up, tore flags, threw eggs at embassies, and danced kochari, night and day; I was worried.
We all had no sleep, no break, and neither ate nor drank; we did the possible and the impossible for the lion boys and our motherland.
My son was my only child, I hid him in the pantry, and my husband was the sole breadwinner in the house, so how would we live? My son has a problem with his spine; my son had just had his appendix removed, my tooth was hurting, and mine was the thumb.
But we would not have had so many victims if the air had been closed. Let those 100 generals not be traitors, let those 1000 officers not be dilettantes, let's not spread panic in the front line, let's not be afraid, let's not run away, let's have the weapon, let's have the soldier, fire the gun, let's call on time! Let's give in on time, ask on time...
Betrayal is death. One must register that death and bury it, even if it is the relationship that dies. When our loved one dies, we don't leave him alone and go away. We lay him to rest, but we do not abandon him. We continue to love; maybe we love more; we continue to miss; perhaps we miss more; we continue to communicate; maybe we share more; we build a new relationship, a new dimension. You should not be afraid. We never forget.

This is us and our motherland. We love ourselves as we are, and we love our relationships even if they are dead, but we have to bury those relationships and make room for a new ones.
Otherwise, dying rots spread a thick stench around and destroy any sprout that would grow green and bear fruit, any cell that would fertilize and give new life, and any element that would create new energy.
How should we bury it? Let's stop the mourning and the guilt, the crying and the mourning, the self-praises and praises that have become empty slogans since time immemorial, the circulation of political formulas that govern us based on our fears, the puffballs; they have never brought comfort, they have never eased the pain, did not hide the guilt and did not change the reality. We have to bury it all like a mother buried her 19-year-old son.
We have to give birth to new songs, new hymns, new rhymes, new formulas, new life, and new reality. A new relationship with the homeland, a loyal relationship, a happy relationship."