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Tales from the Black Sea
Economis
Jul 3rd 2008
SUKHUMI AND TBILISI
The Abkhaz and the Georgians have reason to resent each other--but
both need to rebuild trust if they are to have a prosperous future
AT MIDDAY Ochamchira, in Abkhazia, is almost empty. A derelict cement
tower and rusty fairground wheel are the backdrop to an empty stretch
of Black Sea coast that was once the Soviet riviera. The ageing owner
of a bar is reading a book of Soviet recipes, but his only customer
is a woman who downs her vinegary red wine and leaves. "This time
15 years ago people were queuing outside," he says. Then there were
25,000 residents; today 3,000 are left.
The ethnic conflict between Georgia and its breakaway enclave,
Abkhazia, was one of many detonated by the collapse of the Soviet
Union. Recently, this patch of land, in law part of Georgia but in
effect controlled by Russia, has become a new frontier between Russia
and the West. Two months ago Georgia and Russia came close to war.
Russia accused Georgia of preparing a strike on Abkhazia, mobilised
paratroopers and artillery to join its "peacekeepers", and shot down
a Georgian drone. Hotheads in Tbilisi and Moscow said that war was
all but inevitable.
Diplomatic intervention by Europe and America staved it off, but
tensions remain high. This week bombs exploded in the Abkhaz town
of Gagra and the capital, Sukhumi, prompting Abkhazia to close its
border with Georgia; and Russia reopened a sea route between Sochi
and Gagra. On July 2nd a bomb ripped through an apartment block in
Sochi, host of the 2014 winter Olympics. The Russians make no bones
over linking trouble in Abkhazia to Georgia's hopes of securing NATO
membership, which they strongly resist. But even as Georgia and Russia
argue, nobody pays much heed to the Abkhaz themselves.
The Abkhaz and the Georgians belong to different ethnic groups
but have shared this bit of Black Sea coast for centuries. When the
Bolsheviks occupied Georgia, Abkhazia was given the status of a Soviet
republic. Only in 1931 did Stalin (a Georgian) turn Abkhazia into an
autonomous region of Georgia. Later his secret-police chief, Beria
(also a Georgian, born in Abkhazia), resettled Georgians from the
western part of the country in Abkhazia, tipping its ethnic balance
further in favour of Georgians. Abkhaz schools were shut and the
language was banned.
When the Soviet Union fell apart, various ethnic time-bombs planted by
Stalin across the Caucasus began to go off. In August 1992 Georgia,
itself in near anarchy, began a war in Abkhazia. Nominally under
the rule of Eduard Shevardnadze, the country was run by nationalist
warlords who recruited criminals to their armies. These troops pillaged
Abkhazia, defeating the ill-armed Abkhaz. When the tide of the war
turned and the Abkhaz, helped by Chechens and Russian mercenaries,
stormed back, they massacred ethnic Georgians.
Atrocities were committed on both sides, and some 250,000 of the
pre-war Georgian inhabitants (who accounted for 45% of the total
population) were forced out through ethnic cleansing. But the Abkhaz
look back on the conflict as a war of independence and show little
sympathy for Georgian refugees. Their mistrust of Georgia is boosted
by Russia's anti-Georgian propaganda.
Russia, which fanned the conflict first by encouraging the Georgians,
then backing the Abkhaz, has throughout played a highly dubious role.
It claims to be an impartial peacekeeper, but it has strong vested
interests. The Russians have ignored sanctions on Abkhazia meant to
force the Abkhaz to take back their refugees, and have also given most
Abkhaz Russian passports that let them travel abroad. With 90% of the
population enlisted as "Russian citizens", watching Russian television,
using Russian money and receiving Russian pensions, Abkhazia is
barely autonomous. And though the Russians often talk about Kosovo
as a precedent, they do not really want to see Abkhazia's independence.
The Abkhaz realise the dangers of assimilation into Russia and are wary
of Russian nationalism. When Russia tried to dictate their choice of
president, Abkhaz voters picked his rival. Yet even if integration
with Russia seems unappealing, to many the idea of being part of
Georgia is worse. "At least Russia did not fight against us," says
Stanislav Lakoba, head of Abkhazia's security council. He adds that
Georgia's hard line and Europe's indifference have driven Abkhazia
into Russia's arms.
The Abkhaz also know that the only reason for the sudden interest in
their plight is Russia's increasing belligerence. But Sergei Bagapsh,
the de facto president, has ruled out replacing or even altering the
Russian peacekeeping force. "Our interests will be represented only
by Russia," Mr Bagapsh said after meeting Dmitry Medvedev, Russia's
president, recently.
Some of the blame for this situation rests with Georgia's president,
Mikheil Saakashvili. When he swept to power in 2004, he did not use
his popularity to apologise for Georgia's past actions or disown the
legacy of his predecessors. By late 2004, Georgia was getting closer
to a deal with Russia and a no-use-of-force agreement with Abkhazia,
but neither document was signed. Mr Saakashvili said that "we are
not inviting separatists to Georgia, we will ourselves return to
Abkhazia." His populism irritated the Abkhaz, as did his decision
to banish Irakli Alasania, the only man the Abkhaz side trusted as
a negotiator, as ambassador to the UN in New York.
In 2006 the Georgians forced their way into the upper Kodori gorge,
violating a 1994 peace agreement. They said they had to clear the
area of a local warlord. But Paata Zakareishvili, a Georgian analyst,
believes he could have been nabbed in Tbilisi. Ruslan Kishmaria, who
oversees Gali, a region where 50,000 Georgian refugees spontaneously
returned after the war, says Georgia refuses to let the UN verify
their return. Georgian television channels disseminate false reports
of Georgians being assaulted from the Abkhaz side. Earlier this year
the UN secretary-general said that "inaccurate reports originating in
the Georgian media and occasionally the Georgian authorities...have
contributed to growing distrust and insecurity."
In the circumstances, it is hardly surprising that Mr Saakashvili's
latest peace plan, offering Abkhazia unlimited autonomy, was dismissed
as propaganda by the Abkhaz. Mr Saakashvili announced it on Georgian
television (which is blocked in Abkhazia).
When it was delivered to the Abkhaz, they refused to touch it.
Georgia talks of developing free-trade zones in Abkhazia, but is yet
to lift sanctions that do not work anyway. Mr Alasania, whose father
was killed in the 1990s war, says that "the key to this conflict lies
not in Washington or Moscow but in Tbilisi and Sukhumi...we have
to take the first steps towards reconciliation." Rebuilding trust
between the two sides may take years--and even then it may not lead
to full reintegration of the country. But if Georgia wants to stay
democratic and prosperous, it has no other option. And if they want
to preserve their sense of identity, the Abkhaz must do their bit too.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
Economis
Jul 3rd 2008
SUKHUMI AND TBILISI
The Abkhaz and the Georgians have reason to resent each other--but
both need to rebuild trust if they are to have a prosperous future
AT MIDDAY Ochamchira, in Abkhazia, is almost empty. A derelict cement
tower and rusty fairground wheel are the backdrop to an empty stretch
of Black Sea coast that was once the Soviet riviera. The ageing owner
of a bar is reading a book of Soviet recipes, but his only customer
is a woman who downs her vinegary red wine and leaves. "This time
15 years ago people were queuing outside," he says. Then there were
25,000 residents; today 3,000 are left.
The ethnic conflict between Georgia and its breakaway enclave,
Abkhazia, was one of many detonated by the collapse of the Soviet
Union. Recently, this patch of land, in law part of Georgia but in
effect controlled by Russia, has become a new frontier between Russia
and the West. Two months ago Georgia and Russia came close to war.
Russia accused Georgia of preparing a strike on Abkhazia, mobilised
paratroopers and artillery to join its "peacekeepers", and shot down
a Georgian drone. Hotheads in Tbilisi and Moscow said that war was
all but inevitable.
Diplomatic intervention by Europe and America staved it off, but
tensions remain high. This week bombs exploded in the Abkhaz town
of Gagra and the capital, Sukhumi, prompting Abkhazia to close its
border with Georgia; and Russia reopened a sea route between Sochi
and Gagra. On July 2nd a bomb ripped through an apartment block in
Sochi, host of the 2014 winter Olympics. The Russians make no bones
over linking trouble in Abkhazia to Georgia's hopes of securing NATO
membership, which they strongly resist. But even as Georgia and Russia
argue, nobody pays much heed to the Abkhaz themselves.
The Abkhaz and the Georgians belong to different ethnic groups
but have shared this bit of Black Sea coast for centuries. When the
Bolsheviks occupied Georgia, Abkhazia was given the status of a Soviet
republic. Only in 1931 did Stalin (a Georgian) turn Abkhazia into an
autonomous region of Georgia. Later his secret-police chief, Beria
(also a Georgian, born in Abkhazia), resettled Georgians from the
western part of the country in Abkhazia, tipping its ethnic balance
further in favour of Georgians. Abkhaz schools were shut and the
language was banned.
When the Soviet Union fell apart, various ethnic time-bombs planted by
Stalin across the Caucasus began to go off. In August 1992 Georgia,
itself in near anarchy, began a war in Abkhazia. Nominally under
the rule of Eduard Shevardnadze, the country was run by nationalist
warlords who recruited criminals to their armies. These troops pillaged
Abkhazia, defeating the ill-armed Abkhaz. When the tide of the war
turned and the Abkhaz, helped by Chechens and Russian mercenaries,
stormed back, they massacred ethnic Georgians.
Atrocities were committed on both sides, and some 250,000 of the
pre-war Georgian inhabitants (who accounted for 45% of the total
population) were forced out through ethnic cleansing. But the Abkhaz
look back on the conflict as a war of independence and show little
sympathy for Georgian refugees. Their mistrust of Georgia is boosted
by Russia's anti-Georgian propaganda.
Russia, which fanned the conflict first by encouraging the Georgians,
then backing the Abkhaz, has throughout played a highly dubious role.
It claims to be an impartial peacekeeper, but it has strong vested
interests. The Russians have ignored sanctions on Abkhazia meant to
force the Abkhaz to take back their refugees, and have also given most
Abkhaz Russian passports that let them travel abroad. With 90% of the
population enlisted as "Russian citizens", watching Russian television,
using Russian money and receiving Russian pensions, Abkhazia is
barely autonomous. And though the Russians often talk about Kosovo
as a precedent, they do not really want to see Abkhazia's independence.
The Abkhaz realise the dangers of assimilation into Russia and are wary
of Russian nationalism. When Russia tried to dictate their choice of
president, Abkhaz voters picked his rival. Yet even if integration
with Russia seems unappealing, to many the idea of being part of
Georgia is worse. "At least Russia did not fight against us," says
Stanislav Lakoba, head of Abkhazia's security council. He adds that
Georgia's hard line and Europe's indifference have driven Abkhazia
into Russia's arms.
The Abkhaz also know that the only reason for the sudden interest in
their plight is Russia's increasing belligerence. But Sergei Bagapsh,
the de facto president, has ruled out replacing or even altering the
Russian peacekeeping force. "Our interests will be represented only
by Russia," Mr Bagapsh said after meeting Dmitry Medvedev, Russia's
president, recently.
Some of the blame for this situation rests with Georgia's president,
Mikheil Saakashvili. When he swept to power in 2004, he did not use
his popularity to apologise for Georgia's past actions or disown the
legacy of his predecessors. By late 2004, Georgia was getting closer
to a deal with Russia and a no-use-of-force agreement with Abkhazia,
but neither document was signed. Mr Saakashvili said that "we are
not inviting separatists to Georgia, we will ourselves return to
Abkhazia." His populism irritated the Abkhaz, as did his decision
to banish Irakli Alasania, the only man the Abkhaz side trusted as
a negotiator, as ambassador to the UN in New York.
In 2006 the Georgians forced their way into the upper Kodori gorge,
violating a 1994 peace agreement. They said they had to clear the
area of a local warlord. But Paata Zakareishvili, a Georgian analyst,
believes he could have been nabbed in Tbilisi. Ruslan Kishmaria, who
oversees Gali, a region where 50,000 Georgian refugees spontaneously
returned after the war, says Georgia refuses to let the UN verify
their return. Georgian television channels disseminate false reports
of Georgians being assaulted from the Abkhaz side. Earlier this year
the UN secretary-general said that "inaccurate reports originating in
the Georgian media and occasionally the Georgian authorities...have
contributed to growing distrust and insecurity."
In the circumstances, it is hardly surprising that Mr Saakashvili's
latest peace plan, offering Abkhazia unlimited autonomy, was dismissed
as propaganda by the Abkhaz. Mr Saakashvili announced it on Georgian
television (which is blocked in Abkhazia).
When it was delivered to the Abkhaz, they refused to touch it.
Georgia talks of developing free-trade zones in Abkhazia, but is yet
to lift sanctions that do not work anyway. Mr Alasania, whose father
was killed in the 1990s war, says that "the key to this conflict lies
not in Washington or Moscow but in Tbilisi and Sukhumi...we have
to take the first steps towards reconciliation." Rebuilding trust
between the two sides may take years--and even then it may not lead
to full reintegration of the country. But if Georgia wants to stay
democratic and prosperous, it has no other option. And if they want
to preserve their sense of identity, the Abkhaz must do their bit too.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress