When I returned to Tbilisi last month, the city was awash in European blue. Peeling blue signs were flyposted on every available surface. Buses with fresh blue wraps veered through the roads. Blue banners hung from the shambolic wiring in suburban neighbourhoods. Every corner of the city seemed to be gesturing towards Europe.
But looks deceive. The blue advertisements I saw across the city were not for Georgia’s vocally pro-European opposition, but for the incumbent Georgian Dream party, a populist group accused of undermining Georgia’s hopes of EU accession in order to draw the country back into Russia’s orbit.
Georgian Dream’s campaign images featured a crescent of six of the EU flag’s dozen gold stars merging into its own emblem. The party’s first ascent to power in 2012 was on a platform of Euro-Atlantic integration, and it claims to broadly still support this goal.
Despite this, in recent years Georgian Dream has flaunted its cultural conservatism and chauvinism, deepening ties with Russia and cloning the latter’s authoritarian laws against foreign influence and LGBT ‘propaganda’ despite widespread and impassioned public backlash.
It has presided over a campaign of cultural alarmism about western values and was involved in spreading a conspiracy that a “Global War Party” from the West was behind the Georgian opposition, playing on Georgians’ still-raw fears of further military aggression from their northern neighbour. Many feel that its actions are designed to alienate Georgia from the possibility of EU accession.
Its virtual monopoly on political advertising comes down largely to funding: Georgian Dream is bankrolled by penguin-owning billionaire oligarch Bidzina Ivanishvili, whose pockets are as deep as a quarter of the country’s entire GDP, and who is often described as the “puppet-master” of Georgian democracy.
Nonetheless, that Georgian Dream has nailed its colours to the mast of the EU flag is a sign that Europe remains kingmaker when it comes to public opinion. Polls indicate that as much as 89% of the population of Georgia supports EU membership. Huge rallies before the election seemed to attest to this, as tens of thousands took to the streets with signs reading “Georgia votes for EU.”
Why is Europe so meaningful to Georgians? My neighbour, Nino, a Tbilisi-based academic who asked to be referred to by her first name only, feels that a stronger relationship with Europe will better safeguard Georgia against Russian military aggression. Russia invaded Georgia in 2008 and occupies 20% of its territory to this day.
“It’s like deciding who to let into your house,” she told me. “The one who destroys all of your furniture, or the one who offers you money for renovations.” For the first time, she told me, her family is considering migrating abroad.
Ketevan Chachava, a fellow at the Centre for European Policy Analysis, said that for most Georgians “the EU embodies the promise of stronger democratic institutions, a free and fair economy, a society that values freedom of movement, and a place where our unique language and culture are valued.”
Europe “treats us like equals,” Chachava emphasised, but she added that the EU should play an “active and inclusive” role to “keep Georgia’s European aspirations alive.”
People targeted by Georgian Dream’s repressive laws are also keen to become closer with Europe. “As queer persons, we see the EU as a space where our basic rights and freedoms will be respected and we will get the recognition that we want,” said Aia Beraia, a queer activist and gender researcher. Beraia noted that “a lot of queer Georgians are involved in the campaigns for Eurointegration.”
The recent adoption of a discriminatory legislative package banning ‘LGBT propaganda’ was condemned by an EU spokesperson and led to a warning of “further strain” on the EU’s relations with Georgia.
“If Georgian Dream stays in power, the autocracy and repressions will only strengthen… A lot of queer Georgians will be forced to leave the country,” lamented Beraia. “But we are not going to give up.”
Before the election, many felt there were plenty of reasons to be optimistic about the prospect of an opposition victory, with its flagship message of close Euro-Atlantic integration, over the discredited promises of the Kremlin-adjacent Georgian Dream party, whose close relationship to Viktor Orbán speaks volumes about the kind of relationship with Europe it supports.
But on the night itself, Exit polls came up with gaping discrepancies: the pro-opposition channels Formula and Mtavari Arkhi projected a generous 10% margin in favour of the pro-western opposition, whilst the pro-government Imedi TV put Georgian Dream’s majority at an unlikely 56%. From my apartment, I heard cheers and fireworks: with both sides blithely proclaiming their own triumph, it was hard to be sure which was celebrating.
By the next day, the city had fallen into an anxious lull. The results that had gradually rolled in the night before had quickly placed Georgian Dream at a scarcely credible 54% of the vote – the pinnacle of its electoral success since its inaugural victory in 2012.
The elections have been widely contested, with allegations of bribery, ballot stuffing and voter intimidation. International observers, the EU and the US have all demanded further investigation of irregularities in the vote. In response, the European Commission stated that it would not recommend opening EU membership talks with Georgia as things stand.
Georgia’s pro-European president, Salome Zourabichvili – who has only nominal power – called the election a “Russian special operation” and refuses to acknowledge the result. Kremlin propagandist Margarita Simonyan was quick to stoke the flame with a gloating missive on Telegram: “The Georgians won! Bravo!”
For the many Georgians stewing in uncertainty, this is evidence of their worst fear coming to life. Whether they see the “theft” of the election as gospel truth or breathless denialism by oppositionists, their European aspirations have been cast adrift once again.
And the pro-European movement here is feeling increasingly beleaguered after years of protests and a perceived lack of meaningful support from the west.
Last Monday, thousands streamed to the steps of the Parliament building on Rustaveli Avenue to protest the results, but stamina quickly faded. As the night waned, sheets of protest-goers peeled away in murmuring disappointment, and the thoroughfare setted into a gradual lull.
“We want to keep fighting,” a group of agitated students told me as they dispersed. “But sometimes it is hard to imagine what we are fighting for.”