“This award no longer effectuates agency priorities and is terminated…”
With this single line in a letter from the U.S. Embassy last month, The Memory Project came to an abrupt end. Our activities were canceled, our team disbanded, and our partners instructed to return all unspent funds to Ilia State University, which in turn sent them back to the financial office at the U.S. Embassy.
Ryan Sherman, originally from Ogden, Utah, served in the U.S. Peace Corps in Georgia from 2012 to 2014 and now works as a lecturer and project manager at Ilia State University. In 2023, he and his wife, Maia Tserediani, published their debut translation, May These Ashes Be Light: Prose and Poetry from the Soviet Shadow, with Intelekti Press. Their forthcoming book is a translation of Stalin Against Georgia by Lasha Bughadze.
And it wasn’t just us. Across Georgia nearly all U.S.-funded initiatives met the same fate. Termination letters received. Signed contracts discarded. Distributed funds recalled. This was no simple reduction or a gradual wind-down. It was a sudden, jarring halt. An institutional vanishing act. A rug pulled from beneath us all.
And yet, The Memory Project was something more, and its cancellation is especially chilling. This initiative was designed at the embassy itself, approved by the ambassador, and tied directly to the U.S. Embassy’s own Integrated Country Strategy, a public document outlining America’s policy of commitment to democracy in Georgia and resistance to Russian influence. This program was championed by the Public Diplomacy Section as a tool to “counter Russian disinformation with fact-based narratives” and was rooted in strong local partnerships and goodwill built over decades.
It brought together Ilia State University, Harvard University, and a wide network of historians, educators, NGOs, and national institutions. The scope of activities was vast: oral history interviews, archival digitization, support for Georgian writers, high school visits, collaborative exhibitions, regional events, city mappings of Soviet repressions, and activities to strengthen ties with U.S. universities.
Its mission was simple: to assert national narratives and counter a legacy of propaganda that has sought for generations to repress, rewrite, and distort Georgia’s past and weaken its democratic aspirations.
And yet… “this award no longer effectuates agency priorities and is terminated…”
A Stark Reversal
Just last summer, Ambassador Robin Dunnigan launched this project before a packed auditorium at Ilia State University, standing alongside Professor Stephen Jones of Harvard University and IliaUni Rector Nino Doborjginidze. As the TV cameras rolled, she proudly declared:
“This initiative, which we are proud to fund, seeks to counter Russian disinformation and tell the true story of Georgia’s history under Russian rule. By preserving historical narratives and amplifying the voices of those who lived through Soviet oppression, we ensure that the truth is not lost.”
Her predecessor, Ambassador Kelly Degnan, who approved the initiative, voiced an even more urgent and emphatic. In March 2023, speaking at the opening of the U.S.-supported Museum of Repressed Writers at Tbilisi’s historic Writers’ House, she declared:
“Standing here, we are reminded that there is no middle ground. The Kremlin silences those who challenge its power, and the more power it takes, the more of us it will silence, as it did violently in Georgia in 1921, in 1924, in 1931, in 1937, in 1956, in 1989, in 1993, and in 2008, and is still doing in the world today, most notably in Ukraine. […] We are here to remember the past, yes, but also look to a future of cooperation and shared prosperity.”
Both of these events came soon after violent government crackdowns in Tbilisi on protesters outside the Parliament Building on Rustaveli Avenue. At the Writers’ House, Ambassador Degnan drew a direct parallel to Soviet repressions, quoting the great Georgian writer Otar Chiladze. In a powerful radio address delivered to a grieving nation after the April 9, 1989, Soviet massacre in Tbilisi entitled I Condemn this Cruelty! He said:
“Our greatest crime was nothing more than the aspiration for freedom […] and even in times of disaster we must continue along the path of self-determination, of self-assertion, and of self-awareness.”
This line resonated throughout the evening and was repeated as answers to reporters asking for statements about the civil unrest.
But there is also another line from Chiladze’s 1989 speech that went unmentioned — a line that is enough to make any Brit or American in Georgia shift uncomfortably. And yet, today, it is one that now feels painfully relevant. Chiladze said:
“Neither Madam Thatcher nor Mr. Bush will trouble themselves for our sake. No one will take a strong position on us, for no other reason than this: to stand by us entails risk.”
When these words were first broadcast, the Soviet Union had yet to collapse — and the risks were, indeed, far greater. Today, however, the U.S. Embassy’s social media feeds — once filled with messages of U.S. support, democratic values, and even English translations of Georgian poetry — have gone quiet. When posts appear, they are strikingly detached and indifferent to the reality on the ground. The Ambassador has made almost no public appearances in months. USAID and Embassy vehicles, their 002 red diplomatic plates once a familiar sight, have all but disappeared from Tbilisi’s streets.
Unlike the brave protesters on the streets of Tbilisi (or in nearby Iran, or Turkey), U.S. humanitarian officers in Washington and abroad quickly shrank from their convictions (and congressionally-mandated duties). They seem to judge the professional risks too great, while ignoring the moral ones. I recently tried to put a New York Times journalist in touch with former colleagues at USAID, hoping they might help the American public better understand what’s happening here. Every single one declined to speak — even off record. They were pre-obeying. Pulling away. And, in that silence, becoming complicit.
This is why this moment cuts so deeply. Georgia is in crisis. Protests are violently dispersed. Activists have been jailed, beaten, and fined. And yet, people keep protesting — holding out hope that a European future is still within reach and the West will not turn its back. But now, perhaps for the first time since independence — aside from the 2008 Russian invasion — that hope feels deeply, dangerously uncertain.
The ruling party continues to dismantle the electoral process and persecute political opponents. The renamed and revised ‘foreign agents’ law has grown in scope through amendments and parallel legislation — tightening control over the free press, expanding powers to target opposition parties and individuals, and introducing expanded surveillance powers and punitive measures.”
A Friend in Congress
Amid the broader withdrawal of U.S. support, one U.S. lawmaker stands out: Congressman Joe Wilson, a Republican from South Carolina. He has introduced the MEGOBARI Act, named after the Georgian word for “friend” — a bipartisan bill that pledges support for Georgia’s democratic future and imposes sanctions on those undermining it. His social media is filled with messages of American solidarity, echoing the demands of Georgia’s pro-European protesters.
Just days ago, the Senate Foreign Relations Committee advanced the MEGOBARI Act, reaffirming support for “the Georgian people’s continued democratic and Euro-Atlantic choice.”
Yet even as Congress pushes ahead, the executive branch has already unraveled all the initiatives that were advancing those very goals. On the ground, America’s presence is evaporating like streams in drought. The convictions that once anchored U.S. policy — first, that liberal democracies must stand together to uphold shared values and protect human rights from authoritarianism; and second, that the appetite of tyranny will only grow with the eating — no longer seem to command serious commitment.
And yet Congressman Joe Wilson, may prove the figure capable of salvaging this relationship. In Georgia, he has become a beacon of encouragement. His voice and conviction has been a rare source of reassurance in a moment shadowed by fears of U.S. withdrawal and abandoned promises.
But Georgians have also heard these promises before. The hard truth is that the MEGOBARI Act, while important, is not enough on its own. Without real policy follow-through, tangible assistance, and sustained diplomatic engagement from both the United States and Europe, this act risks alienating Georgia further — and pushing it deeper into the orbit of Russian and Chinese influence. Meanwhile, as the U.S. turns inward with isolationist economic policies, its sanctions will increasingly carry less weight — and its ability to rally allies will wane.
One of the bill’s core provisions calls for sanctions on individuals undermining Georgian democracy and sovereignty, especially in relation to Russian influence. These targets are powerful individuals. Without credible U.S. engagement and active diplomacy, how effective can those sanctions be? And if Georgia continues to serve as a corridor for Russian sanction evasion, how long until the entire country is treated as complicit?
“In the Midst of Disaster”
To his troubled and traumatized nation in 1989, Chiladze said, “Let us not fool ourselves, but look truth in the eyes, and once again gather our strength “in the midst of disaster…” This final phrase is a deliberate invocation of Georgia’s national epic, The Knight in the Panther’s Skin:
Remember, if you are wise, that all the sages are agreed upon this;
(R. H. Stevenson translation)
That a man should bear himself like a man, and weep as seldom as may be.
[In the midst of disaster] we should strive to show the strength of a wall of stone;
It is the workings of their own minds that bring sorrow to mortals.
Otar Chiladze’s April 9th address was, and its core, a call for internal solidarity — to “show strength like a wall of stone” amidst disaster, and to resist placing undue faith in external powers. While international support can be vital, true reliance and progress must first depend on a people’s commitment to their own aspirations. In this regard, the Georgian people have long distinguished themselves. Through centuries of upheaval and occupation, their sense of national pride has persevered, and they have retained the conviction that their rights — like those once declared self-evident in the American founding — are inherent, unalienable, and worth fighting for. They are our natural allies, and to stand with Georgia is not Western charity; it is a privilege.
At its heart, The Memory Project advocated a modern vision of Georgia — not as a folky satellite of Russian colonialism, but as a sovereign nation with a rich political and cultural history and rightful place among the world’s liberal democracies. It rejected the view of Georgia as a folkloric curiosity in a Russian ethnographic museum, where Georgians are merely dancers, feasters, and wine drinkers in national costumes, and instead affirmed Georgia’s longstanding aspirations for democracy, dignity, and independence.
The Memory Project is gone. But those who believed in it remain. They are still here, still working, still fighting for a vision of Georgia grounded in rights and equality — for the vision of Ilia Chavchavadze, Akaki Tsereteli, Noe Jordania, and countless others.
So to Joe Wilson, I offer sincere thanks for his strong stance, but also a reminder that Georgians have heard such promises before. If the MEGOBARI Act merely doles out sanctions without living up to its rhetoric to meaningfully “continue to support the Georgian people and their democratic and Euro-Atlantic aspirations,” it will be a failure.
Thirty-six years ago, the great Georgian writer warned that in times of grave risk, the Georgian people would stand alone. Thankfully, this admonition does not yet define the present. Leaders like Joe Wilson, and many others continue to stand with Georgia. But the difficult truth remains: unless statements and legislation are matched by meaningful engagement, the danger will only grow, and Chiladze’s warning may yet prove prophetic. As an American, I urge my country to back its words with deeds, and to keep its promises to the small but great nation and its proud people.
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