TBILISI — Am I delusional?
Reporting on Georgian politics ahead of Saturday’s decisive parliamentary elections, I find myself struggling with this question over and over again.
Turn on the TV here, and the vote is portrayed as an existential binary. Pro-government channels parrot the ruling party, framing it as a choice between “war and peace,” while opposition channels call it a choice between the European Union and Russia. No grey areas.
But is this really the decision Georgians are making? Is the binary that clear cut? I’m not so sure.
To understand the political situation in any country, Georgia included, ask a cab driver, the old adage goes. Maybe the average Joe — or in this case, Giorgi — could shed some light.
As he steered his cab through Tbilisi’s winding roads, driving me home from the airport at 5 a.m., Giorgi gladly shared his disappointment with the country’s political elites. For him, the choice isn’t quite so simple.
“Europe and the United States won’t save us — and neither will any government, old or new. For people like myself, nothing will change. [The politicians] will keep getting richer, and I’ll have to spend night after night driving around to put food on the table that’s never enough.”
Disenchantment with the political establishment is nothing new, of course. Whether it’s former President Mikheil Saakashvili who rose to power during the 2003 Rose Revolution, or billionaire Bidzina Ivanishvili and his ruling Georgian Dream party that followed, leaders often come in as heroes and leave (or stay) as villains.
“No one should stay in power for longer than a year if they don’t deliver something in that period,” Giorgi said. And while Saakashvili and Ivanishvili may be archenemies, they have one thing in common: for many, they held power for far too long. Saakashvili was at the helm for nine years; Ivanishvili’s Georgian Dream has been in post for 12 now.
Emerging as a pro-Western leader in a post-Soviet country, Saakashvili got off to a good start. Internationally, he was the West’s darling, and at home he was big on infrastructure — a sparkling new fountain would pop up in town, and he’d attend the opening with a gaggle of press, cameras rolling as he cut the ribbon.
But by the end of his tenure, the story didn’t sell so well. Every outlet would report the same story, show the same footage, sometimes even in the same order. His grip on the media was too obvious — the authoritarian behind the democratic façade starting to show.
Shocking footage of human rights abuses by prison guards, dropped in the days before the 2012 parliamentary election, sealed Saakashvili’s fate and tolled the bell for his United National Movement (UNM). Its a shadow the party hasn’t been able to shake.
With Georgia now on the hunt for its new hero, Ivanishvili knew the moment was ripe.His brand? A mysterious benefactor, who could have lived the rest of his life carefree — but out of duty and passion for the country, chose to take up the burden of Georgia’s leadership instead.
Having spent generously on Georgian infrastructure and cultural projects, Ivanishvili — much like the early days of Saakashvili— styled himself as having a genuine ambition to transform the country.
Little did he know that a decade later, critics would want to oust him for the same authoritarian tendencies.
No to war
Today, on the evening of the election, large — and somewhat brutal — election banners loom over Tbilisi’s streets.
“No to war, choose freedom,” one of them reads, contrasting the enlarged image of a war-torn church in Ukraine with one of Tbilisi’s landmark Holy Trinity Cathedral. Such banners are everywhere, all depicting scenes of devastation.
Many Ukrainians sought refuge in Georgia after Russia’s full-scale invasion, and I can’t help but wonder how they must feel seeing these images in the streets. But the ruling party designed this campaign for Georgians, who also had a taste of Russian aggression under Saakashvili’s rule.
And the message is clear: The opposition are warmongers wishing to “drag Georgia into the war,” so if you want peace, vote for Georgian Dream.
The party also came up with a collective term for everyone challenging them — the radical opposition. Anyone who falls into this category can become a target; many civil activists, journalists and opposition figures have and face varying degrees of intimidation.
“I’m always looking over my shoulder,” a fellow journalist told me.
And while EU officials have warned that such an authoritarian pivot will cost Georgia its EU membership, I wonder if Georgian Dream supporters believe that. Does such a warning even make a difference? And what holds more weight: the dream of a European future or the familiar fear of war?
Plagued by these questions, I headed to Wednesday’s Georgian Dream rally.
Tens of thousands were gathered in Tbilisi’s central Liberty Square for the pro-government event, with loudspeakers blasting, drums banging and energetic young men carrying a large blue flag depicting a hybrid between the Georgian Dream and EU logos. The party’s MPs and candidates marched toward the square amid chants of “Glory to Georgian Dream.”
Many had come to the rally because they support the party, but many others were instructed — or even threatened — to attend, transported to Tbilisi from regions in tightly packed minibuses. Anyone with a friend or family member employed in a state-funded sector can attest that when the ruling party wants to gather masses, ultimatums are made. And refusing to comply could cost them their jobs.
“I want to thank the person who, in 2012, restored our dignity and delivered us from the bloody regime,” said Prime Minister Irakli Kobakhidze, to the crowd’s rapturous applause.
Among them was Nika, a war veteran from Bershueti village, near the de facto border of occupied South Ossetia. He was wounded during the five-day war in 2008, when Russia invaded Georgia.
“We know the value of peace — peace is everything to me. Georgian Dream promises peace,” he said, eager to emphasize he wasn’t a state servant forced to attend the rally but a genuine supporter.
His wife Lia also stressed that, as a mother of four, peace is what she values most: “Because I know what war is. It happened because of poor politics,” she said. “One shouldn’t poke the bear at the expense of others’ children’s lives.”
The European choice
While they see the ruling party as peacekeepers, 48-year-old Nino said she likes the Georgian Dream because of their anti-LGBTQ+ policies. “The EU is forcing us to accept LGBT. I don’t want to see a man with another man,” she said.
However, like many others, she also harbors personal anger toward the previous government, as three of her family members were imprisoned, forcing her, as a single mother, to migrate to the U.S. And the main reason she supports Georgian Dream is that she feels safer and freer in modern Georgia.
“They won’t arrest you today unless you do something extreme. During Misha’s time, I prayed my [family] would come out alive,” she said, recalling Saakashvili’s “zero tolerance” crime policies.
Those on the other side of the political spectrum, however, see a very different picture.
A few days prior to Georgian Dream’s rally, thousands filled the same street to express their unwavering support for the “European choice.” What’s at stake for them is a future in the EU and democracy itself.
“Today I see free Georgia standing in front of me. Nobody has been forced to come here, nobody has come because they were told they’d lose their jobs if they didn’t show up,” said President Salome Zourabichvili, who had joined the rally.
So, maybe the delusion is thinking that there’s a stark difference in what the opposing sides want.
All anyone in Georgia wants is peace, prosperity and a European future. Only, for one side, the guarantee of peace is EU membership, which they believe Georgian Dream will deprive them of, while the other is afraid peace will end if the ruling party loses control.
All of them will head to polling stations on Saturday, confident they’ll win. And with sharing power off the table, today feels like the calm before the storm.