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  • Abkhazian futures

    Open Democracy, UK
    Aug 23 2005

    Abkhazian futures

    by Andrew Mueller



    A small, little-known corner of the southern Caucasus resists
    Georgia, relies on Russia, and is resolute for independence. Andrew
    Mueller reports from Abkhazia.

    Sukhum's international airport must be the quietest such aviation hub
    on earth. There are only a couple of passenger jets parked on the
    runway, derelict Aeroflot planes that look like they haven't been
    airborne since Leonid Brezhnev was in power. There are no customs
    formalities, just a bored security guard waving the few arrivals
    through, and outside there are no taxis, no buses, no uniformed
    chauffeurs holding up the names of their passengers.


    Also on Abkhazia and Georgia in openDemocracy's `Caucasian
    fractures' debate:

    George Hewitt, `Sakartvelo: roots of turmoil' (November 2003)

    Nino Nanava, `Mikhail Saakashvili: new romantic or modern realist'
    (December 2003)

    Neal Ascherson, `Tbilisi, Georgia: the rose revolution's rocky road'
    (July 2005)

    Chris Smith, `Baku-Ceyhan, the politics of oil' (August 2005)

    If you find this material valuable please consider supporting
    openDemocracy by sending us a donation so that we can continue our
    work and keep it free for all




    The moribund status of Sukhum's international airport is a by-product
    of the fact that nobody outside Sukhum (sometimes rendered as
    `Sukhumi') considers it an international airport. Sukhum is the
    nominal capital of Abkhazia, a region in the north-west of Georgia
    which has been struggling for more than a decade to be recognised as
    an independent, sovereign state. The cost, in money and human life,
    has been incalculable: around 10,000 people are estimated to have
    died in the little-reported 1992-93 war with Georgia, many of them
    Abkhazians in a total Abkhaz population of only 90,000.

    For most foreigners, coming here is possible only if they can gain
    the necessary approval to travel on one of the United Nations's
    sporadic helicopter flights from the Georgian military airbase near
    Senaki. The lumbering Russian-built Mi-8s fly straight to the coast
    and then miles out into the Black Sea before turning back around to
    Sukhum; the careful arc an acknowledgment that in October 2001, a UN
    helicopter was shot down over Abkhazia, killing all nine people
    aboard.

    A shadow state

    Abkhazia is visibly determined - despite the overt hostility of
    Georgia, and the indifference of the rest of the planet - to make its
    own way in the world. The territory's public buildings, shops and
    street stalls, fly Abkhazia's own flag, rich in symbolism: green and
    white stripes (representing Abkhazia's mixed Christian and Islamic
    heritage), a red panel emblazoned with an open palm (denoting
    friendship), which appears to be juggling seven white stars
    (representing Abkhazia's provinces).

    The formalities of independent status are everywhere. Abkhazia has
    its own government, which collects its own taxes, and includes its
    own foreign ministry (even if, by definition, this seems a bit like
    Switzerland having a navy minister or the Netherlands a mountain
    rescue service); its own police, operating according to Abkhazia's
    own laws; its own military, in which two years' service is compulsory
    for young men; its own postage stamps (though opinion about the
    chances of postcards sent with them ever being seen again is mixed).

    At the same time, the realities of dependency abound. Abhkazia plans
    to issue its own passports, though an agreement to give all
    Abkhazians the right of Russian citizenship in 2002 seemed to
    compromise the goal of statehood. Russian troops guarantee the
    country's border with Georgia on the Inguri river to the east, and
    are present in Sukhum itself - enviably billeted in tree-shrouded
    dachas next to the beach in one of the old Soviet Union's premier
    holiday resorts (which must beat serving in Chechnya).

    Abkhazia may shun the Georgian currency (lari), but it uses the
    Russian rouble rather than any currency of its own. Russian is also
    the most commonly heard language, though in recent years there has
    been a revival of interest in the northwest Caucasian language of
    Abkhazian, another marker of distinction from south Caucasian
    Georgian (kartvelebi) and Mingrelian (megruli) of Georgia.

    Abkhazians are fond of pointing out that the country's modern
    difficulties derive from a decree by a son of Georgia, Josef Stalin.
    After the consolidation of Soviet power in 1921, Abkhazia enjoyed
    (for want of a better term) the same constitutional status within the
    Soviet Union as Georgia itself - that of an Autonomous Soviet
    Socialist Republic.

    Stalin's regular holidays in Abkhazia inspired no fondness for its
    people (with his chief henchman, Lavrenti Beria - a Mingrelian - he
    would destroy Nestor Lakoba and the rest of Abkhazia's political
    leadership in the 1930s purges). In 1931, he decided to reduce its
    status by incorporating it into Georgia. Georgian was made Abkhazia's
    official language, and thousands of Georgians were encouraged to
    settle there. By the time the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
    stopped answering to its own name in 1991, only around 20% of
    Abkhazia's population were ethnically Abkhazian.

    War descended upon Abkhazia in August 1992. Post-Soviet Georgia had
    lurched from the crazed misdirection of chauvinist zealot Zviad
    Gamsakhurdia to the overlordship of ex-Soviet foreign minister Eduard
    Shevardnadze, who - in face of Abkhazian moves to outright
    independence - sanctioned a brutal invasion of the rebellious
    province.

    The thirteen-month war was largely ignored by a world then
    preoccupied with the carnage in disintegrating ex-Yugoslavia. Yet
    there are deep parallels between the conflicts - in the `ethnic
    cleansing' of populations, the state- and media-orchestrated
    nationalist intolerance, and the impulse to cultural annihilation as
    well as military victory.

    Just as the Bosnian Serbs attempted to extinguish proof of Bosnia's
    national identity by destroying the national library in Sarajevo, so
    Georgian bombs razed Abkhazia's Institute of Language, Literature and
    History, and used Sukhum's monuments to local heroes as target
    practice (the bulletholes are still visible in many cases, while the
    statue of poet Dmitri Gulia has its head blown off).

    It is hard to find a single Abkhazian who didn't lose friends or
    family members in the conflict with Georgia. Eventually, Abkhazia's
    hastily-convened irregular forces - abetted by various detachments of
    Russians as well as Chechens and other `north Caucasians' - drove the
    Georgian military from Abkhazian territory. Around 250,000 ethnically
    Georgian refugees fled with them, many to a hellish long-term
    existence in the ruins of Tbilisi's Hotel Iveria.

    Abkhazia declared independence in 1994. It has been painfully
    attempting to recover ever since. The territory still has no formal
    transport links with the rest of Georgia, though discussions about
    restoring the railway line have been held. Ships from Turkey call at
    Sukhum, though they risk being impounded or fired on by Georgian
    naval vessels. Increasing numbers of Russian tourists negotiate the
    only open border crossing near Sochi to enjoy the beaches and hotels
    of Gagra and Pitsunda, prestigious resorts during Soviet times.

    No compromise

    The potential wealth generated by tourism, against the backdrop of
    one of the most fertile regions in the world, would certainly be
    enough to sustain a workable Abkhazian economy. Yet in present
    geopolitical circumstances it is difficult to see how Abkhazia's
    dreams can possibly come true.

    It is inconceivable that any Georgian government will offer it
    independence - aside from giving up miles of potentially profitable
    coastline, recognising Abkhazia could only encourage Georgia's other
    restive regions (the Adzharian problem may have been solved, but
    South Ossetia is beyond Tbilisi's control and there is growing
    discontent among the Armenian minority in the south).

    Moreover, the United States has no conceivable interest in Abkhazian
    statehood. It is developing closer military and strategic ties with
    Georgia, and its interest in Caspian oil supplies is reflected in its
    support of the Baku-Ceyhan oil pipeline that runs through Georgia's
    territory.

    The US has consistently made clear its positive view of Georgia since
    the `rose revolution' that brought its smart young president, Mikhail
    Saakashvili, to power in late 2003 - even extending the honour of an
    ecstatically-welcomed visit by George W Bush in May 2005.

    Meanwhile, the present uncertainty over Abkhazia's status and future
    suits Russia rather well. As Tbilisi strives to move closer to the
    west, Moscow can loom menacingly in Georgia's wing-mirrors and
    preserve its strategic options in the troubled region (fuelling more
    febrile Georgians' fears that Abkhazians may one day be used - like
    Sudetenland Germans in Czechoslovakia in the 1930s - as a pretext for
    military intervention).

    Despite this apparent absence of hope for a diplomatic breakthrough
    in Abkhazia's recognition by the international community, there seems
    no appetite - among Abkhazia's government or public alike - for any
    sort of compromise. Indeed, in a government riven with personal
    rivalries (something that became dangerously apparent during the
    contested, divisive, and occasionally violent electoral process
    between October 2004 and January 2005), this may be the only unifying
    factor. When examples of a middle way are suggested, such as the
    Basque country's autonomy inside Spain or Scotland's and Wales's
    within the United Kingdom, they are swiftly dismissed.

    `There are', the foreign minister Sergei Shamba declares, `no models
    which could bring us together with the Georgian state. Due to
    history, and due to public opinion, we stand by our right to
    independence.'

    `It's about us, now', confirms Vice-President Raul Khadjimba. `We
    have to create the conditions for the world to hear about us. We have
    to use television, newspapers, the internet, to tell people more
    about Abkhazia. Maybe one day these issues will touch someone's
    heart, and the world will give us a chance.'
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