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ABKHAZIA, THE COMFORTABLE CONFLICT ZONE
Thomas de Waal Op-Ed May 28, 2013 National Interest
Despite its continued diplomatic isolation, heavy reliance on Russian
aid, and uncertain future, the breakaway territory of Abkhazia
has entered a period of relative normalcy as the country looks
increasingly inwards.
A curious word comes to my mind, entering a conflict zone: tidy.
Abkhazia looks tidy. The journey from the River Inguri to Sukhumi
(as most of the world still calls the city, the Abkhaz insist on
their traditional name Sukhum) follows a newly repaired road and
takes little more than an hour. Construction is going on all over town.
Shops are open and there are advertising hoardings on the street.
Russian tourists stroll along the embankment enjoying the bright
spring weather.
Thomas de Waal
Senior Associate Russia and Eurasia Program
The neatness is relative, of course. The streets are still much too
quiet. The major landmark in the center of the city remains the ruined
hulk of the Soviet-era parliament building, destroyed in the final
round of fighting between Georgians and Abkhaz in the war of 1992-3.
But the clean look reflects a political reality. People in Abkhazia
feel comfortable with their current situation.
In August 2008, following the five-day war with Georgia over
South Ossetia, Moscow recognized as independent Abkhazia and South
Ossetia, which had broken away from Tbilisi's rule in 1992-93. Russian
recognition launched Abkhazia on a new trajectory, solving one set of
problems while generating new ones. Chiefly, it relieved at a stroke
the greatest anxiety of the Abkhaz-their feeling of insecurity about
re-conquest by Tbilisi. As a result, the issue of what Georgia thinks
or wants has perceptibly receded into the background, and the Abkhaz
political scene is more parochial, focused on internal issues.
This more inward-looking Abkhazia, especially since the 2011
election of President Alexander Ankvab, also pushes back against
Western countries that have traditionally supported Tbilisi. The
Abkhaz government has threatened to stop access to foreign diplomats
accredited in Tbilisi, on the ground that this implies recognition of
Georgian sovereignty over Abkhazia. Some diplomats from home capitals
are still allowed in-but diplomatic traffic into Abkhazia has slowed
to a trickle. Some Europeans have proposed projects in Abkhazia under
the EU's strategy of "engagement without recognition," but their
proposals were rejected on the ground that they were offering merely
a fraction of what Abkhazia gets from Russia.
One European diplomat described this approach as "self-isolation." But
as we sat on the Sukhum sea-front drinking coffee, Abkhazia's de
facto foreign minister, Vyacheslav Chirikba, robustly rejected the tag.
"How can you call a country which had more than seven million visitors
last year isolated?" asked Chirikba. He said a steady stream of
Russians and others were crossing Abkhazia's northern border all the
time to take advantage of Black Sea tourist resorts.
"And we are not 'occupied' either," he added. "Where are the
occupiers? I don't see any," he added, jokingly looking under the
cafe table. In fact, the only Russian soldiers I saw in three days
in Abkhazia were at the border crossing. Whatever Russian control
there is over Abkhazia is administered with a light hand.
But no one can dispute Russia's economic dominance. The International
Crisis Group reported recently that a quarter of the budget comes
from direct Russian transfers, and that's separate from a massive
Russian-funded infrastructure program for roads, schools, government
buildings and agriculture. Also, Russia pays the pensions of Abkhazia's
retired.
The economy remains unhealthy, thanks in part to the government's
big Ottoman-style bureaucracy, much larger than a political entity of
around 250,000 people can afford. "It's hard being 'on the needle,'"
said Stanislav Lakoba, secretary of the national security council
in Abkhazia, referring to the republic's almost total dependence on
Russian economic subsidies.
Lakoba, a widely respected historian, has had several run-ins with
Russian parliamentarians determined to whitewash Russia's nineteenth
century oppression of the Abkhaz. Still, Lakoba is not keen on engaging
with Europe via Georgia, although he says he would have welcomed it
a few years ago. "That train has left," he says.
Since Abkhazia is cut off from mainstream international politics,
its internal discourse centers on issues the outside world barely
recognizes. There is a fierce debate about whether Abkhaz passports
should be extended to ethnic Georgian residents in Gali region in
southeast Abkhazia. And I heard discussions about whether it would be
beneficial for Georgia to recognize Abkhaz independence, or whether
the emphasis should be on third countries doing so.
Moderates want to extend Abkhaz passports and seek Georgian recognition
of their independence. They see the twenty thousand Georgians who
have taken Abkhaz passports as a sign of the success of the Abkhaz
state-building project-a pursuit of the "standards before status"
strategy adopted with Kosovo. Conservatives would deny citizenship to
ethnic Georgians and reject all engagement with Tbilisi. Lakoba argues,
for example, that giving Abkhaz passports to Gali Georgians who may
also secretly be holding Georgian passports "explodes" Abkhazia.
Such controversies get no hearing in Georgia. Tbilisi does not
recognize Abkhaz passports as legitimate (although it does sometimes
accept them as identification for everyday transactions across the
border). And recognition for Abkhazia is not on the agenda: the
very small number of Georgians who have raised the issue say it is
theoretically feasible only with the return of more than two hundred
thousand internally displaced persons.In Tbilisi, Georgia's sovereignty
over Abkhazia and the right of return of Georgian IDPs are taken as
given. The big issue is whether to amend (not even annul) the Law
on Occupied Territories, whether to allow the Abkhaz more access to
the outside world in the name of engagement. Georgia now has its most
progressive government team dealing with the two breakaway territories
of Abkhazia and South Ossetia. A minister named Paata Zakareishvili,
who has two decades of experience in working with Abkhaz and Ossetians
in the nongovernmental sector, holds this portfolio.
The previous government, led by Mikheil Saakashvili's United National
Movement, had re-cast the conflicts as purely Georgian-Russian
disputes, downplaying the local origins of them in the late 1980s and
early 1990s and the role extreme Georgian nationalism had played in
triggering them.
Despite an "engagement strategy" that read well on the page, the
focus continued to be on calling the two territories "occupied" and
keeping them isolated from the world. Saakashvili personally vetoed
a proposal to allow three Abkhaz students to study in Brussels.
Since taking office last October, the new government has worked
to reverse such practices. "Saakashvili was always looking for
an opportunity to say no to Abkhaz and South Ossetians," said
Zakareishvili. "We are looking for reasons to say yes-while always
taking into account of course the state interest of Georgia."
The results have been small but significant. Covert Georgian military
units operating on Abkhaz soil have been disbanded. There is more
commercial traffic across the Inguri, and two new crossing points
were opened last week (although there is a fear that the border will
be tightened ahead of next year's Sochi Olympics). The two sides
are finally working together properly on the important issue of the
missing, both the dead from the war and the living who are detained.
Yet, all new initiatives taken by the new government on the conflicts
are criticized by the opposition United National Movement as a
capitulation to Russian interests.
Everyone understands that Abkhazia is a protracted conflict: the
irresistible force of Russian protection collides with the immovable
object of widespread international recognition that Georgia holds
sovereignty over the republic.
Zakareishvili acknowledges he is in a long-term game. "Sooner or
later they will understand that they need alternatives in Georgia
and Europe," he told me.
Given this, a game-changing move is needed. The only possibility I
can see is to rebuild the broken railway line around the Black Sea
connecting Sochi, Abkhazia, western Georgia and Armenia. If the
railway were to be rebuilt, the benefits would be massive to the
whole region. The new Tbilisi government floated the idea last fall,
but it met resistance from Azerbaijan and the Georgian opposition
and received only lukewarm support in Russia and Abkhazia.
It is striking how many people are either resisting or failing to
support a big regional project that could reconnect broken parts of
the region. It illustrates how everyone has grown comfortable with
a status quo that is still producing long-term discomfort to Abkhaz,
Georgians and others.
This article was originally published in the National Interest.
http://carnegieendowment.org/2013/05/28/abkhazia-comfortable-conflict-zone/g75v
Thomas de Waal Op-Ed May 28, 2013 National Interest
Despite its continued diplomatic isolation, heavy reliance on Russian
aid, and uncertain future, the breakaway territory of Abkhazia
has entered a period of relative normalcy as the country looks
increasingly inwards.
A curious word comes to my mind, entering a conflict zone: tidy.
Abkhazia looks tidy. The journey from the River Inguri to Sukhumi
(as most of the world still calls the city, the Abkhaz insist on
their traditional name Sukhum) follows a newly repaired road and
takes little more than an hour. Construction is going on all over town.
Shops are open and there are advertising hoardings on the street.
Russian tourists stroll along the embankment enjoying the bright
spring weather.
Thomas de Waal
Senior Associate Russia and Eurasia Program
The neatness is relative, of course. The streets are still much too
quiet. The major landmark in the center of the city remains the ruined
hulk of the Soviet-era parliament building, destroyed in the final
round of fighting between Georgians and Abkhaz in the war of 1992-3.
But the clean look reflects a political reality. People in Abkhazia
feel comfortable with their current situation.
In August 2008, following the five-day war with Georgia over
South Ossetia, Moscow recognized as independent Abkhazia and South
Ossetia, which had broken away from Tbilisi's rule in 1992-93. Russian
recognition launched Abkhazia on a new trajectory, solving one set of
problems while generating new ones. Chiefly, it relieved at a stroke
the greatest anxiety of the Abkhaz-their feeling of insecurity about
re-conquest by Tbilisi. As a result, the issue of what Georgia thinks
or wants has perceptibly receded into the background, and the Abkhaz
political scene is more parochial, focused on internal issues.
This more inward-looking Abkhazia, especially since the 2011
election of President Alexander Ankvab, also pushes back against
Western countries that have traditionally supported Tbilisi. The
Abkhaz government has threatened to stop access to foreign diplomats
accredited in Tbilisi, on the ground that this implies recognition of
Georgian sovereignty over Abkhazia. Some diplomats from home capitals
are still allowed in-but diplomatic traffic into Abkhazia has slowed
to a trickle. Some Europeans have proposed projects in Abkhazia under
the EU's strategy of "engagement without recognition," but their
proposals were rejected on the ground that they were offering merely
a fraction of what Abkhazia gets from Russia.
One European diplomat described this approach as "self-isolation." But
as we sat on the Sukhum sea-front drinking coffee, Abkhazia's de
facto foreign minister, Vyacheslav Chirikba, robustly rejected the tag.
"How can you call a country which had more than seven million visitors
last year isolated?" asked Chirikba. He said a steady stream of
Russians and others were crossing Abkhazia's northern border all the
time to take advantage of Black Sea tourist resorts.
"And we are not 'occupied' either," he added. "Where are the
occupiers? I don't see any," he added, jokingly looking under the
cafe table. In fact, the only Russian soldiers I saw in three days
in Abkhazia were at the border crossing. Whatever Russian control
there is over Abkhazia is administered with a light hand.
But no one can dispute Russia's economic dominance. The International
Crisis Group reported recently that a quarter of the budget comes
from direct Russian transfers, and that's separate from a massive
Russian-funded infrastructure program for roads, schools, government
buildings and agriculture. Also, Russia pays the pensions of Abkhazia's
retired.
The economy remains unhealthy, thanks in part to the government's
big Ottoman-style bureaucracy, much larger than a political entity of
around 250,000 people can afford. "It's hard being 'on the needle,'"
said Stanislav Lakoba, secretary of the national security council
in Abkhazia, referring to the republic's almost total dependence on
Russian economic subsidies.
Lakoba, a widely respected historian, has had several run-ins with
Russian parliamentarians determined to whitewash Russia's nineteenth
century oppression of the Abkhaz. Still, Lakoba is not keen on engaging
with Europe via Georgia, although he says he would have welcomed it
a few years ago. "That train has left," he says.
Since Abkhazia is cut off from mainstream international politics,
its internal discourse centers on issues the outside world barely
recognizes. There is a fierce debate about whether Abkhaz passports
should be extended to ethnic Georgian residents in Gali region in
southeast Abkhazia. And I heard discussions about whether it would be
beneficial for Georgia to recognize Abkhaz independence, or whether
the emphasis should be on third countries doing so.
Moderates want to extend Abkhaz passports and seek Georgian recognition
of their independence. They see the twenty thousand Georgians who
have taken Abkhaz passports as a sign of the success of the Abkhaz
state-building project-a pursuit of the "standards before status"
strategy adopted with Kosovo. Conservatives would deny citizenship to
ethnic Georgians and reject all engagement with Tbilisi. Lakoba argues,
for example, that giving Abkhaz passports to Gali Georgians who may
also secretly be holding Georgian passports "explodes" Abkhazia.
Such controversies get no hearing in Georgia. Tbilisi does not
recognize Abkhaz passports as legitimate (although it does sometimes
accept them as identification for everyday transactions across the
border). And recognition for Abkhazia is not on the agenda: the
very small number of Georgians who have raised the issue say it is
theoretically feasible only with the return of more than two hundred
thousand internally displaced persons.In Tbilisi, Georgia's sovereignty
over Abkhazia and the right of return of Georgian IDPs are taken as
given. The big issue is whether to amend (not even annul) the Law
on Occupied Territories, whether to allow the Abkhaz more access to
the outside world in the name of engagement. Georgia now has its most
progressive government team dealing with the two breakaway territories
of Abkhazia and South Ossetia. A minister named Paata Zakareishvili,
who has two decades of experience in working with Abkhaz and Ossetians
in the nongovernmental sector, holds this portfolio.
The previous government, led by Mikheil Saakashvili's United National
Movement, had re-cast the conflicts as purely Georgian-Russian
disputes, downplaying the local origins of them in the late 1980s and
early 1990s and the role extreme Georgian nationalism had played in
triggering them.
Despite an "engagement strategy" that read well on the page, the
focus continued to be on calling the two territories "occupied" and
keeping them isolated from the world. Saakashvili personally vetoed
a proposal to allow three Abkhaz students to study in Brussels.
Since taking office last October, the new government has worked
to reverse such practices. "Saakashvili was always looking for
an opportunity to say no to Abkhaz and South Ossetians," said
Zakareishvili. "We are looking for reasons to say yes-while always
taking into account of course the state interest of Georgia."
The results have been small but significant. Covert Georgian military
units operating on Abkhaz soil have been disbanded. There is more
commercial traffic across the Inguri, and two new crossing points
were opened last week (although there is a fear that the border will
be tightened ahead of next year's Sochi Olympics). The two sides
are finally working together properly on the important issue of the
missing, both the dead from the war and the living who are detained.
Yet, all new initiatives taken by the new government on the conflicts
are criticized by the opposition United National Movement as a
capitulation to Russian interests.
Everyone understands that Abkhazia is a protracted conflict: the
irresistible force of Russian protection collides with the immovable
object of widespread international recognition that Georgia holds
sovereignty over the republic.
Zakareishvili acknowledges he is in a long-term game. "Sooner or
later they will understand that they need alternatives in Georgia
and Europe," he told me.
Given this, a game-changing move is needed. The only possibility I
can see is to rebuild the broken railway line around the Black Sea
connecting Sochi, Abkhazia, western Georgia and Armenia. If the
railway were to be rebuilt, the benefits would be massive to the
whole region. The new Tbilisi government floated the idea last fall,
but it met resistance from Azerbaijan and the Georgian opposition
and received only lukewarm support in Russia and Abkhazia.
It is striking how many people are either resisting or failing to
support a big regional project that could reconnect broken parts of
the region. It illustrates how everyone has grown comfortable with
a status quo that is still producing long-term discomfort to Abkhaz,
Georgians and others.
This article was originally published in the National Interest.
http://carnegieendowment.org/2013/05/28/abkhazia-comfortable-conflict-zone/g75v