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ROSE REVOLUTION'S INTERNAL STRUGGLE MAY BEAR FRUIT FOR GEORGIA
The Irish Times
August 1, 2008 Friday
GEORGIA LETTER:President Saakashvili's ex-ally may yet become the
most dangerous thorn in his side, writes Dan McLaughlin
GEORGI, TBILISI'S singing cabman, sends another refrain from Aida
soaring out above the honking horns and hot metal of rush-hour traffic.
Leaning far back in the driver's seat, because it's broken or there's
no other way he can squeeze into the battered hatchback, Georgi
peppers his serenade with bursts of fluent, slightly effete English.
"I am classically trained, but can only make $300 (EUR 192) a month
at the Georgian National Opera. Driving taxi I make double that in
few days. I also perform for private parties."
Black hair slicked neatly above dark eyes, a pendulous nose and a
quick, smiling mouth, Georgi could be a dead ringer for Caruso, were he
not semi-reclining behind the wheel of a wheezing Opel with a cracked
windscreen, an overworked horn and far too many miles on the clock.
As well as Georgian, English, Russian and a smattering of German,
Georgi speaks the Armenian of his ancestors and Azeri picked up from
worshippers at the mosque near his flat, and he has the voice of a
portly angel.
Yet cabbying is his best way to earn a crust. "Things are getting
better here," he sighs between high notes and unlikely overtaking
manoeuvres. "But it's taking time."
Georgi is driving away from the home of Nino Burjanadze, one of the
trio of politicians who led the Rose Revolution, which swept away
Georgia's old guard in late 2003 and inspired soaring hopes in a
nation weary of poverty, power cuts and all-pervasive corruption.
While Mikhail Saakashvili sparked with boundless energy and supreme
confidence, and Zurab Zhvania's razor-sharp political brain whirred
behind an easygoing charm, Burjanadze (44) moved through the chaotic
events with calm assurance and a certain, stately sophistication.
Five years on, the Rose Revolution team is no more: Zhvania is dead,
poisoned by a gas leak; Saakashvili is a less bouncy, more bruised
president; and Burjanadze has just parted ways with her old ally
after a long period of discontent.
A defining moment, it seems, was Saakashvili's decision reached last
November to use riot troops to disperse thousands of protesters who
accused him of promoting his friends while crushing his opponents,
and failing to raise living standards and fight graft.
Unease among Saakashvili's supporters in Washington and the European
Union grew when police raided and temporarily closed an opposition
television station, and he ultimately agreed to hold early presidential
and parliamentary elections.
He and his allies won both quite comfortably, but his image as a
champion of western-style democracy in a volatile part of Russia's
backyard was tarnished.
The fractious opposition could not find a leader capable of really
challenging Saakashvili.
But now Georgians, who are tired of waiting for their lives to improve,
are wondering whether the woman who was his strongest partner is
poised to become his most dangerous adversary.
"I had some differences of views with the former team. And I thought
it was right that we moved in different directions," Burjanadze said
in the leafy conservatory of her Tbilisi home.
"We share the same strategic priorities . . . but we differ on tactical
points. I saw that I was not strong enough inside the system to do
what I thought was right. So I left."
Burjanadze, who is married with two sons, has created the Foundation
For Democracy and Development to help strengthen Georgian civil
society and move towards the nation's commonly-held priorities -
accession to Nato and the EU, and restoration of Tbilisi's control
over two Russian-backed separatist regions, Abkhazia and North Ossetia.
She finally split with Saakashvili after a dispute over which
candidates to put forward for the elections in May.
But her calls for a "broader section" of decision-makers, for
government to become "more transparent and closer to the people", and
for an end to "revolutionary methods of ruling" sound like indictments
of Saakashvili's alleged reliance on a small clique of trusted advisers
and his penchant for bold, but sometimes heavy-handed, moves.
"I was saying this openly . . . and the president and others often
said I was right. But I wanted real change. Perhaps now it will come,
and they will do what I asked."
Burjanadze insists that her "political divorce" from Saakashvili
"was quite civilised", but she holds no qualms about the prospect of
challenging him for power at a later date.
"I think I will be back in active politics in the near future . . . I
would create my own party, but will co-operate with others.
"But for now my political ambitions and party can wait until my
foundation is fully established."
If Nino does challenge Misha, as the former allies are universally
known in Georgia, then she is likely to be Saakashvili's toughest
opponent.
Georgi the singing cabman, and millions of his compatriots, can only
hope that a battle between the heroes of the Rose Revolution finally
prompts it to bear belated fruit.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
The Irish Times
August 1, 2008 Friday
GEORGIA LETTER:President Saakashvili's ex-ally may yet become the
most dangerous thorn in his side, writes Dan McLaughlin
GEORGI, TBILISI'S singing cabman, sends another refrain from Aida
soaring out above the honking horns and hot metal of rush-hour traffic.
Leaning far back in the driver's seat, because it's broken or there's
no other way he can squeeze into the battered hatchback, Georgi
peppers his serenade with bursts of fluent, slightly effete English.
"I am classically trained, but can only make $300 (EUR 192) a month
at the Georgian National Opera. Driving taxi I make double that in
few days. I also perform for private parties."
Black hair slicked neatly above dark eyes, a pendulous nose and a
quick, smiling mouth, Georgi could be a dead ringer for Caruso, were he
not semi-reclining behind the wheel of a wheezing Opel with a cracked
windscreen, an overworked horn and far too many miles on the clock.
As well as Georgian, English, Russian and a smattering of German,
Georgi speaks the Armenian of his ancestors and Azeri picked up from
worshippers at the mosque near his flat, and he has the voice of a
portly angel.
Yet cabbying is his best way to earn a crust. "Things are getting
better here," he sighs between high notes and unlikely overtaking
manoeuvres. "But it's taking time."
Georgi is driving away from the home of Nino Burjanadze, one of the
trio of politicians who led the Rose Revolution, which swept away
Georgia's old guard in late 2003 and inspired soaring hopes in a
nation weary of poverty, power cuts and all-pervasive corruption.
While Mikhail Saakashvili sparked with boundless energy and supreme
confidence, and Zurab Zhvania's razor-sharp political brain whirred
behind an easygoing charm, Burjanadze (44) moved through the chaotic
events with calm assurance and a certain, stately sophistication.
Five years on, the Rose Revolution team is no more: Zhvania is dead,
poisoned by a gas leak; Saakashvili is a less bouncy, more bruised
president; and Burjanadze has just parted ways with her old ally
after a long period of discontent.
A defining moment, it seems, was Saakashvili's decision reached last
November to use riot troops to disperse thousands of protesters who
accused him of promoting his friends while crushing his opponents,
and failing to raise living standards and fight graft.
Unease among Saakashvili's supporters in Washington and the European
Union grew when police raided and temporarily closed an opposition
television station, and he ultimately agreed to hold early presidential
and parliamentary elections.
He and his allies won both quite comfortably, but his image as a
champion of western-style democracy in a volatile part of Russia's
backyard was tarnished.
The fractious opposition could not find a leader capable of really
challenging Saakashvili.
But now Georgians, who are tired of waiting for their lives to improve,
are wondering whether the woman who was his strongest partner is
poised to become his most dangerous adversary.
"I had some differences of views with the former team. And I thought
it was right that we moved in different directions," Burjanadze said
in the leafy conservatory of her Tbilisi home.
"We share the same strategic priorities . . . but we differ on tactical
points. I saw that I was not strong enough inside the system to do
what I thought was right. So I left."
Burjanadze, who is married with two sons, has created the Foundation
For Democracy and Development to help strengthen Georgian civil
society and move towards the nation's commonly-held priorities -
accession to Nato and the EU, and restoration of Tbilisi's control
over two Russian-backed separatist regions, Abkhazia and North Ossetia.
She finally split with Saakashvili after a dispute over which
candidates to put forward for the elections in May.
But her calls for a "broader section" of decision-makers, for
government to become "more transparent and closer to the people", and
for an end to "revolutionary methods of ruling" sound like indictments
of Saakashvili's alleged reliance on a small clique of trusted advisers
and his penchant for bold, but sometimes heavy-handed, moves.
"I was saying this openly . . . and the president and others often
said I was right. But I wanted real change. Perhaps now it will come,
and they will do what I asked."
Burjanadze insists that her "political divorce" from Saakashvili
"was quite civilised", but she holds no qualms about the prospect of
challenging him for power at a later date.
"I think I will be back in active politics in the near future . . . I
would create my own party, but will co-operate with others.
"But for now my political ambitions and party can wait until my
foundation is fully established."
If Nino does challenge Misha, as the former allies are universally
known in Georgia, then she is likely to be Saakashvili's toughest
opponent.
Georgi the singing cabman, and millions of his compatriots, can only
hope that a battle between the heroes of the Rose Revolution finally
prompts it to bear belated fruit.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress