Georgia’s Political Crisis Risks Shattering Decades of Fragile Peacebuilding
The turning point in Georgia’s modern politics arrived on November 28, 2024, when Prime Minister Irakli Kobakhidze declared that Georgia would halt its pursuit of EU membership until 2028. Justifying the decision by accusing the West of “blackmail,” the announcement shocked the nation and outraged pro-European Georgians. What had once been a gradual decline in democratic standards escalated into an outright authoritarian shift. The announcement sparked widespread protests—met not with dialogue, but with a heavy-handed government crackdown.
As the country’s ties with the West fray, efforts to reconcile with Abkhazia and South Ossetia may quietly collapse.
For over three decades, Georgia’s efforts to transform frozen conflicts with Abkhazia and South Ossetia have relied on one lifeline: Western political support and funding. From cross-boundary dialogue projects for school kids to students, scholars, journalist, artists, teachers and etc to official platforms like the Geneva International Discussions, the architecture of peace has been built painstakingly—grant by grant, conversation by conversation.
But today, that structure is crumbling.
In 2021 I had a real changemaking experience in Belgrade, Serbia. Tens of journalists and scholars gathered for ten days. This meeting was organized by the Imagine Center For Conflict Transformation. – a platform, that has united so many people and helped them to rethink what we already know about conflicts. We were discussing past, present and the future of the conflict, based on researches, schools and university books, open sources. We were comparing what one side knew about another. I was shaken by my super-biased political stance towards Georgia-Abkhazian and Georgian-Ossetian conflict. These conflicts are multi-dimensional, and the discussions can last forever, though there is one truth – the main actor – the state and authorities –have to take all the responsibilities and action to resolve these conflicts, amidst the civil society and non-governmental organizations. Solely grassroot level organizations cannot do, whatever is the responsibility of the state.
In the midst of Georgia’s deepening political crisis—marked by mass protests, accusations of electoral fraud, the suspension of EU membership aspirations until at least 2028, and a crackdown on independent institutions—conflict resolution has quietly slid off the agenda. And with it, the already fragile ties between Georgians, Abkhazians, and Ossetians may be lost for good.
“If this architecture collapses,” one experienced conflict researcher told me, “Abkhazia and South Ossetia will become even more dependent on Russia. The only space left for connection—education, exchange programs, dialogue—is funded by the West. If that goes, everything else does too.”
A Peace Process Without a State
Georgia’s peace process has never been solely—or even primarily—a state-driven enterprise. It was civil society that did the work: hosting dialogue workshops, facilitating encounters across the dividing lines, and building relationships slowly, quietly, and often thanklessly.
Several Georgian NGOs have spent years building trust with Abkhaz and Ossetian counterparts. But today, their future is in jeopardy.
With many Western embassies and donors freezing or cutting back programs, local peacebuilders are finding themselves out of work and out of options.
“These organizations have accumulated competence and legitimacy,” another researcher explained. “They’ve done the work that no state institution ever dared to do. But they can't operate without resources. And the state has never been interested enough to help.”
Indeed, Georgia’s Ministry of Reconciliation was renamed in 2018 to the “State Ministry for Reconciliation and Civic Equality”—a symbolic shift, but one that mirrored a broader political disinterest. As one expert noted, “Even before this crisis, conflicts were a 20th-priority issue. Now, they’re number one hundred.”
European Dreams, Suspended
One of the few meaningful incentives for reconciliation had been the promise of EU integration. For years, Tbilisi’s path toward Brussels gave moderate voices in Abkhazia and South Ossetia an alternative to complete Russian dependence. It offered a vision of the future where economic opportunity, mobility, and dignity could be shared with the rest of Georgia—even if not under the same political roof.
“Georgia's path to Europeanization was quite attractive for Abkhazians and Ossetians,” a person, with 20 years of working experience in conflict transformation has reflected. “It created space for imagining coexistence. If we’re all just post-Soviet states, then of course they’re going to turn to Moscow. But if we’re part of Europe, maybe they’d want to come with us.”
That path is now in limbo.
In November 2024, the Georgian government announced it would postpone its EU membership bid until 2028, citing the need for “sovereign decision-making.” Many saw it as a political surrender to the Kremlin.
According to a recent survey by the Caucasus Research Resource Centers, 80% of Georgians still support EU integration. But for Abkhazians and Ossetians watching from afar, it’s hard to see Tbilisi’s European trajectory as credible anymore.
“The only thing that made Georgia look different from Russia was Europe,” said one participant of a long-running conflict dialogue program the Berghof Foundation. “Now even that difference is gone.”
The Disappearing Space for Dialogue
Over the past two decades, countless projects—some funded by the EU, others by Scandinavian or German agencies—brought together young people, educators, journalists, and civic leaders from across the divide. For many, it was their first time hearing the voices of “the other side.”
One participant of a Berghof Foundation dialogue program recalled:
“Before joining the program, I had no idea what the 'other' side of the conflict really looked like. All I knew was the official narrative. I realized how limited my understanding was—and how little we talked about the human side of the conflict. It’s always about territory, not people.”
But such programs are becoming politically unpopular—and socially ridiculed.
“We are in such a fragile moment,” another participant said. “Some people even laugh at these initiatives now. They think it’s silly to bring people together to talk as if peace is a joke. And without real state support, our work stagnates.”
Indeed, there is no official response from the Georgian government when construction begins in Sukhumi or transfer of Bichvinta lands to Russia and building the Russian Navy in Ochamchire town. No statements. No plans. No diplomacy. Just silence.
The War on Peace
Ironically, while the ruling Georgian Dream party claims to champion “peace,” its policies often undermine the very mechanisms that make peacebuilding possible.
“If you ask a critical question about conflicts to a Georgian Dream supporter today,” said a conflict researcher, “they’ll accuse you of wanting war. It’s a trap. Either you support their ‘peace’—which means doing absolutely nothing—or you’re accused of being a provocateur.”
This warped rhetoric has delegitimized civil society’s efforts and painted grassroots peacebuilders as dangerous meddlers.
“We’re told that if Georgian Dream weren’t in power, we’d already be at war,” said one NGO representative. “ So the choice is: authoritarian stability or chaos. In that worldview, reconciliation work becomes suspect. Even treasonous.”
Forgotten Communities, Abandoned Goals
Internally displaced persons (IDPs) from Abkhazia and South Ossetia, whose number 250 000, have long seen Europe as a symbol of possibility. In a 2024 field study, many IDPs noted that they didn’t trust the Georgian government to resolve the conflict—but still hoped the West could help.
“They saw Western support not just as a security guarantee,” the researcher explained, “but as the only real investment in their future—be it in education, healthcare, or housing. Now even that is disappearing.”
What Happens Next?
The Geneva International Discussions—co-chaired by the EU, OSCE, and UN—remain the only official format that includes Georgian, Russian, Abkhaz, and South Ossetian representatives. But the platform is on life support, surviving only because of international mediation and funding. Should that end, there may be no forum left where these sides can even speak.
Russia, meanwhile, is quietly expanding its control. In Abkhazia, nearly 40% of the state budget comes from Moscow. In South Ossetia, Kremlin-linked elites dominate politics and security. And across both territories, pro-Russian sentiment grows stronger in the absence of meaningful Georgian engagement.
A Last Chance?
It is difficult to overstate what is at stake. If the peacebuilding framework built over decades collapses now, it may not be rebuilt again in our lifetimes. The human connections, the slow accumulation of trust, the vision of a shared future—it all stands to disappear, drowned in political apathy and authoritarian calculation.
“Even before this crisis, peace wasn’t a real priority,” one peacebuilder told me. “But now it’s forgotten entirely. We’re watching the quiet death of reconciliation. And no one seems to notice, because it was quite unnoticed even before when this process was still alive."
In a time when the word “peace” has become a political weapon, it’s easy to forget its deeper meaning. But for those who’ve spent years in the difficult work of dialogue and repair, peace is not just the absence of war. It is presence. Of dignity, memory, and the willingness to listen.
Georgia now faces a critical choice: to rebuild its credibility as a peacemaker—or surrender its future to whatever is there to come. Moreover, the illegitimate Georgian Dream party has stolen the word "peace". What they picture as "peace", is not peace at all. Will we continue believing in this nonsense of "peace" is up to the Georgian people's will to pursue for the real one.
