If you want to know how the protests over election fraud in Georgia are going, we’d say it depends on who you ask. Are you asking a frustrated TV watcher from a remote Georgian town who struggles to feel connected to what’s happening in Tbilisi or a passionate marcher on Rustaveli Avenue? Are you interested in the perspective of a tired student who is still figuring out what to prioritize – education or homeland – or would you rather hear the view of exhausted night campers in the Vake district who can’t hide the resentment they feel toward those who left them alone in the face of police violence? Do you ask confused opposition leaders or their anxious voters who keep demanding a magic “plan”? They will all tell you different things, with everyone judging by the level of their exhaustion and by the level of their anxiety.
But the dominant mood is one of waiting. Some are waiting for the Georgian Gen Z to fully emerge from hibernation, some are waiting for the opposition to come up with some grand plan, some are waiting to see what the West, and Brussels in particular, is prepared to do about it, and many are waiting for November 25, when the first session of the new parliament is scheduled to convene. Most of us, however, seem to be waiting for ourselves – and our spring – to make a complete comeback.
Here is Nini and the Dispatch newsletter, tracking the current mood as Georgians push their limits to challenge rigged elections.
The Anniversary
It’s November 23 in Georgia, St. George’s Day, which also happens to be the 21st anniversary of the bloodless Rose Revolution. It has been 21 years since crowds led by charismatic leader Mikheil Saakashvili stormed the parliament building, culminating weeks of protests over rigged elections and ending the next day with the resignation of President Eduard Shevardnadze.
More than two decades after those events, the legacy of the Rose Revolution has been repeatedly (and we’d say, increasingly) contested, with Georgian Dream leaders now openly painting it as an externally managed revolution led by NGOs to impose the rule of “foreign agents.” Saakashvili supporters, on the other hand, continue to see the date as Georgia’s greatest victory.
But there are many in Georgia for whom things are not so black and white, many who once welcomed the change with open arms but were disappointed when the rule turned undemocratic years later, many who still see November 23, 2003, as a turning point in the country’s history but have since found themselves repeatedly on the barricades fighting for a better democracy – first against Saakashvili’s United National Movement, now against the increasingly repressive Georgian Dream. And as the country once again yearns for radical change, there is one thing no one can deny: Georgia would again use some of the spark that made the 2003 effort successful.
Except, the country has long since grown weary and wary of charismatic leaders (Saakashvili’s party wasn’t even the top opposition force according to the disputed results of the 2024 elections). A widening gap between Tbilisi and Georgian peripheries since 2003 didn’t make things any easier. The post-messianic void that emerged in Georgia seems to need an alternative to fill it. This spring’s unprecedentedly vibrant, decentralized protest appeared to do the job, but in recent weeks, “Where did those people go?” has been a common question among frustrated activists.
One thing led to another
After weeks of apathy, the spark may be reigniting. Responsible for this slow awakening is the group that, amid growing geographic alienation, is the tiny remaining link between Tbilisi and the rest of the country: the students. Students were the driving force behind the fervent opposition to the Foreign Agents Law in April and May. They later showed a willingness to actively protect the vote on election day but largely failed to show up weeks after the preliminary official results were announced.
This sudden passivity seems to be coming to an end. On November 14, a group of students from Shota Rustaveli State University in the seaside city of Batumi began a sit-in protest on the campus, and their resilience in the face of their administration’s obstructive actions only drew more attention and admiration from Tbilisi. Student groups in the capital followed suit, leading to tensions at Tbilisi State University, a traditional epicenter of political protest and thus also a traditional target of the authorities, who have repeatedly chipped away at the university’s autonomy.
Then, one thing led to another. On November 17, an opposition-led march ended up camping at a major intersection near Tbilisi State University; the police dispersal of this peaceful protest two days later brought more demonstrators onto the streets; images of police units entering the university grounds before the dispersal sparked outrage among academics, and student protesters finally managed to enter and remain on campus after the university administration had closed the doors to them for days.
Recently, there have been several rallies and public lectures on campuses, triggering a separate series of self-organization on social media among teachers, professors, and emigrants. And on November 22, the non-student protests finally moved out of Tbilisi, with a small but energetic rally that paralyzed traffic in Zugdidi, Samegrelo. A busy and decentralized schedule of protests has been announced for the coming days, and representatives of different groups have all planned their own things.
Remember, remember
Are we there yet? Not quite. Tbilisi is yet to see protests on the scale of the mass rallies in April and May. Among the reasons for relative passivity could be post-election apathy, general exhaustion, and part of the opposition electorate saving their anger and energy for next week. As for the lack of a “plan” that many complain about, a bigger problem may be that we have too many plans in mind.
Faced with uncertainty, Georgians may often catch themselves obsessively thinking and planning about how to survive the anticipated years of autocracy. That overthinking could be distracting from focusing on immediate actions that could avert such a state, and no matter how good and elaborate that far-reaching plan B, many things seem to be getting in the way. In what appears to be the government’s craving for exemplary punishment, two young protesters still face years in prison for damaging a temporary iron fence this spring, while another 21-year-old activist faces up to 7 years in jail for swinging a stick at a police officer while being chased by them during the violent dispersal of November 19. All three have been remanded in custody in dramatic court hearings over the past few days.
No plan is a good plan if it leaves these protesters alone to face an increasingly repressive justice system, especially since the official term of President Zurabishvili, the only person with the ability to get these young people out of jail, ends next month. So the only real way forward for Georgians right now appears to be getting ready for November 25: on that day, opposition and civil society have called on voters to gather on Rustaveli Avenue as Georgian Dream plans to convene for the first session of a new – and what many see as illegitimate – parliament.