Dispatch – December 24: When Georgia Marched

On what was so special about the December 19-22 protests

It’s been four full years since I started writing a regular Dispatch newsletter, but I never really felt like an actual dispatcher until recently. To get that feeling, you have to stand on Tbilisi’s Rustaveli Avenue, somewhere in front of the parliament, around 7 p.m., and wait. The marches arrive one after the other, often at short intervals, sometimes almost merging. Accurate coverage requires constant vigilance and focus – asking around – “Who’s that now?” – doesn’t help: others are as confused as you are. At some point, one may need to designate someone to coordinate the traffic to prevent any unnecessary collisions or merges.

The Georgian protests are in their fourth week, and the days are only getting busier. Over the weeks, the resistance movement has found the flexibility to transform, expand, and explore. At times, it seems that Georgians are heading somewhere together – to an unknown destination – but they are doing so by taking two opposite paths at the same time. Every step into the future is made by rediscovering the past. The pains of dying come alongside the labors of birth. 

What began as professional guild marches soon drew in social, demographic, and minority groups. But nothing beats the amazement – and significance – of the “regional marches” that Tbilisi witnessed last week. What was so special about them?

Here is Nini and the Dispatch newsletter, to reflect on how Georgia’s protest movement has changed, and why this process may have historic significance.

Not surprisingly, it was the Megrelians who initiated it. Those from the Samegrelo region of western Georgia are known for their determination, strong identification with their native land, high tolerance for pepper, and low tolerance for anyone who underestimates them. But when the “March of the Megrelians” was scheduled for December 21, it was a matter of reputation for those from the nearby Guria region, known as the fastest of all Georgians, to get there first. So the Gurians marched down Rustaveli Avenue as early as December 19, showing off the best of their humor, politically charged rebellious culture, and pointed curses aimed at predictable targets. 

The Guria march was only a harbinger of things to come. The trend culminated on December 21, when several other regional (and not only) marches were announced. Svans, from the mountainous region of Svaneti in western Georgia, brought their stern and rich aesthetics in all its beauty. Adjarians, from the place that stretches from sunny beaches to mystical mountains, came with their music, dance moves, and flair. And then those from the humble but beautiful Racha, despite being known for their measured demeanor, were quick enough to disown their wayward son – Georgian Dream Prime Minister Irakli Kobakhidze.

The Rachans were joined by the Kartli people, famous for producing a disproportionate number of decorated martial arts athletes, some of whom, to their disappointment, end up trading their warrior spirit for seats in parliament. Those who tried to reconnect with their warrior mentality were people from historic mountain provinces of eastern Georgia, including Khevsureti. A single Khevsuri is equal to 50 men when duty calls, according to one banner. 

Things got more complicated with the Imereti people, known for their strong wits but with weaker regional bonding. Perhaps overexcited by all this regional self-expression game, the proud natives of Kutaisi, the region’s historical capital, rushed to announce a “Kutaisi march,” leaving their Imereti pals befuddled. In the end, however, the Kutaisi and Imereti marches converged, channeling all their characteristic sense of fun to show the rest of the country that they had little in common with that one Imereli villain – Georgian Dream founder Bidzina Ivanishvili. 

The Megrelians showed up in impressive numbers, coming with their families and countless banners in their unique Megrelian language – which not everybody on Rustaveli Avenue understood, but everyone agreed with. And there was a small march of Meskhi people from the historic province of Meskheti (or Samtskhe) in southern Georgia. They arrived at Rustaveli Avenue to find that the epic scenes on display there were straight out of the pen of that one great medieval “Meskhi” poet whose name the avenue bears: dazzling scenes of hundreds of men and women, professionals and amateurs, joining hands to walk down the avenue together in Khorumi, the Georgian martial folk dance, looked more like something you’d read about in Knight in Panther’s Skin, Georgia’s most famous epic poem authored by Shota Rustaveli, than something you’d witness in the real world.

And that wasn’t all: two more regions were scheduled to march the next day. These included the Lechkhumi people, from the historic region bordering Racha, who have historically combined humility with courage, and a march from Kakheti, a wine-rich and historically wealthy region in eastern Georgia. That wealth has made them a favorite target of invaders for centuries, but the people once known as Georgia’s fiercest warriors have recently faced barbs that they are too easily sold out for the government’s grape subsidies. 

The people of Kakheti had no trouble proving everyone wrong: the next day, they showed up with an “army,” countless “mature audience only” banners showcasing the best of their frank-speaking reputation, and enough resolve that they almost ended up installing President Salome Zurabishvili as Georgia’s monarch. At least they helped Zurabishvili, who also hails from Kakheti, onto the stage of the municipal Christmas market near her residence, against the objections of municipal workers and in dramatically comical scenes that (again) looked quite out of this world. 

Pardon us for being pathetic 

The march of the regions easily turned into a kind of competition in which each participant was happy to lose. And forgive me if I, too, recount these events in a tone more befitting a medieval bard. But these marches did astound the Georgian protesters for a reason.

The idea was never to amplify mutual prejudices or create a toxic sense of national pride, and neither did it seem to have been the outcome. Even the initiators of the spontaneous events were dazzled by what this half-joke initiative had turned into. While the Georgian Dream likes to complain about how protesters use bullying (read: shaming) tactics to attract more supporters, recent weeks have shown that this is no longer the dominant strategy of those standing on Rustaveli Avenue. There is a growing realization that something more needs to be done, more fellow citizens need to be won over, and more people need to be charmed out of the all-consuming propaganda tool at GD’s disposal. And beauty seems to be a better charmer than the threat of isolation. Fear of missing out may be a better weapon than fear of backlash. 

And the main enemy against whom these weapons must be used is probably the deepest root of all evil in contemporary Georgia: geographical alienation. This alienation has been growing over the past decades. The Georgian center and periphery have been developing unevenly, and the rulers, instead of addressing this problem, have chosen to exploit it to their political advantage. Anger at one’s own misery has been directed at those who were perceived as not suffering the same fate rather than against those who caused it. The problem is acknowledged – “Do you know what’s happening in the regions?” – one asks with dismay. But even as it is accepted, it has barely been countered. 

Yes, the gaping differences are obvious. If the Tbilisi authorities had to cancel the Christmas celebrations because the demonstrators refused to give up their venue for non-stop protests, the demonstrators in Kutaisi, also a scene of permanent rallies, had to stand with stern faces, with posters of beaten demonstrators, while their friend and acquaintances tuned into the Christmas concert – a rare festive occurrence in those parts. Some other communities had less trouble inaugurating their Christmas trees. And while the municipal Christmas markets in downtown Tbilisi are rather desolate, struggling to attract both vendors and visitors, those outside the capital have yet to find spaces to channel their discontent.

Nothing feeds alienation, like the feeling that big things are happening somewhere and you are not a part of it. And nothing beats alienation like being allowed to join or at least be represented. After all, any one of us could be just like a proverbial grumpy neighbor, annoyed by the sounds of a distant party while secretly yearning for an invitation.

Last week’s regional marches were an important push to break through that wall, offering a glimpse of what it takes to win and what we have to lose. The protests have also featured a variety of other spontaneous events, like recurring chants of polyphonic music, focusing on re-embracing the country’s culture and traditions without excluding anyone. Still, it will take time – and hard work – to transform the Georgia of bubbles into the Georgia of people(s). And more such events – like a march by Georgian Armenians and Azerbaijanis – are planned in the coming days as the country continues to explore what unites them. 

Much remains to be explored. On December 21, I, too, joined my fellow disorganized Imereti natives in their march with a certain childlike excitement. I felt it was perhaps the most important demonstration I have ever participated in.

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it tomorrow! Dispatch will be back in a week with a review of the most dramatic and open-ended year the country has seen in a long time.