Earlier this week, I filed entries from November 28 on, as the scale and fury of the protests against Georgian Dream mounted. On that day, Irakli Kobakhidze, the prime minister, said he was putting Georgia’s bid to join the European Union on ice for the next four years. Georgian Dream, in other words, is pushing Europe away to bring us closer to Russia.

But our country’s constitution promises to attempt full integration with the EU, a promise that Georgian Dream appears to want to break, despite its claims to the contrary. If you read my entries from November 28 chronologically, you will see that I felt motivated and enthused, thrilled that Georgians, after post-election protests seemed to peter out, were out on the streets in greater numbers, determined to assert their rights and protect their aspirations.

Since I filed those entries though, the government has adopted darker, even more repressive tactics. After arresting and beating hundreds of young protestors, the police are now using the same brutal tactics on opposition politicians. Footage of Nika Gvaramia, a prominent opposition leader, being dragged unconscious down the street by a gang of masked policemen has been seen around the world.

The violence is vicious and unrelenting. But Georgians will not be intimidated. We’re not going anywhere any time soon, so watch this space.

It’s 7.30 and I’ve just woken up. Later today, Georgian Dream politicians will open a new session of parliament, a month after a tainted election, and begin a new four-year term as the governing party of Georgia.

I head straight towards the protests outside the parliament building. Protestors have been camping outside since the previous night, even though protests in front of parliament now carry the threat of a prison sentence.

As we wait for Georgian Dream deputies (‘our’ members of parliament) to show up, we ask ourselves if there are enough of us to overwhelm the police if necessary. And will the police wait until it’s dark to take action or attack us during the day? Already, we’ve learned that we can’t impede or block the entrance to parliament and that we cannot prevent deputies entering or exiting the building.

But even this early in the morning, the police are guarding the parliament in heavy numbers. All the gates are reinforced, with metal walls erected behind them. The security measures are so extreme that even the Georgian Dream deputies - traitors - might struggle to get into the building.

Arriving outside parliament, I see the swelling crowds of protesters and feel encouraged that Georgians understand that taking to the streets in significant numbers is our only weapon. There are more of us here today than anytime in the weeks following the election. We need more, though, to join us. We want the people who sold our country to hear our anger through the walls. 

Around noon, Georgian Dream deputies arrived to bluster their way into parliament and declare the session open, even though the opposition parties had staged a boycott. As our legitimate president, Salome Zourabichvili, said, the “Georgian parliament exists no more,” since it “tore up the Constitution.”

By 1.30 pm, someone started banging on a metal wall in front of the parliament building. People rushed to join in. The noise the drumming made swallowed up all the other noises. Then some others threw firecrackers over the gate, causing loud explosions. The Georgian Dream deputies inside sure can hear us now.

Georgian Dream nominates Mikheil Kavelashvili, a 53-year-old former professional soccer player, as its presidential candidate. The current president, who has described the parliamentary elections as illegitimate, has already said she intends to stay in office until the inauguration of a “legitimately elected president by a legitimately elected parliament.” The pro-Russian Kavelashvili was not allowed to become the president of the Georgian football federation because of his lack of a university education. Yet here he is, the pick to become president of Georgia. I think it is safe to say that people expected anyone but him, a man notable nowadays for swearing at the opposition in parliament. It does make a warped kind of sense. He is the perfect puppet for a regime in which ethics and human decency are considered nuisances, a “yes man” placed by Bidzina Ivanishvili, the Russian-made oligarch who controls Georgian Dream, to obey Putin's every grim order.

The prime minister, Irakli Kobakhidze, just announced that Georgia will be halting European Union accession talks until 2028. This comes right after the European Parliament announced that elections in Georgia should be rerun and that top Georgian Dream officials, including the prime minister, should face EU sanctions, a sanctions package aimed at the top of the Georgian Dream leadership, including the prime minister. 

No more Europe! That’s basically what he is telling us. I thought they would just ghost the EU, as they have for so long, and let the relationship wear out, just so they could pretend that they were at least trying. I didn’t imagine this! I didn’t imagine that they would literally change their narrative overnight. If this is not enough to make even the most passive Georgians come out onto the streets, I don't know what will. 

I turn on my TV and see that, in fact, there are protests in front of parliament. There were none scheduled for today. But thousands are out there, more than at any of the recent protests including the one in front of Tbilisi State University in which the police arrested dozens of young people, including 21-year-old Mate Devidze, who faces seven years in prison if he is convicted on trumped up charges of assaulting a police officer.

Today, in contrast, this gathering is not organised by political leaders, it is completely improvised. People just feel compelled to come out, like we used to, until the elections made everyone hopeless. Even the president Salome Zourabichvili is on the streets, asking the riot police who they are working for – Georgia or Russia? She gets no answer. And when she asks why they won’t answer her, their commander in chief, they remain silent. 

Many Georgians have been asking whether we still had any fight left. We’ve criticised the opposition and showed contempt at their inaction. When, we asked, would the people reach their boiling point? From what I was seeing on TV, maybe we were getting there, despite the scary amounts of police and special forces with their shields and tear gas.  

I head out to the protests. The atmosphere is tense but in a good way. Undeniably, there are more people out on the streets than we’ve seen in recent weeks. And, if the police action is excessive, more will come out. That’s what everyone is saying.

Sure enough, around midnight it starts.

The police, advancing from the streets adjacent to parliament, turned water cannons on the protestors. From the very first blast it became apparent that the water was laced with something. People described feeling a burning sensation on their bodies. Many felt they couldn’t breathe. Still, soaking wet in the freezing air, their skin stinging and struggling for breath, the protestors stood in front of the jets of ‘water’. They were not afraid.

But the police were thuggish. They kept advancing, pushing us back down Rustaveli Avenue, beating up and arresting anyone they could lay their hands on. The police formed a line in front of the Tbilisi Marriott, the same location where protestors were gathered back in May, a night on which I, alongside many others, was arrested.

Tonight, I discovered that a friend of mine, Dachi, had been arrested. The police beat him as they dragged him to a police car. I called my lawyer. She was already awake, fielding dozens of calls from people who knew someone who had been arrested.  

As morning broke, the police continued to chase and beat people, to hunt down those who had taken refuge in the shops nearby. The police were brutal, in keeping with what Georgian Dream has to offer to the country.

I managed to get five hours of sleep and then went to the prison, taking food and cigarettes for my friend Dachi. His lawyer told me the police beat everyone who they arrested, some of them so badly that the prison officials refused to accept them, insisting that they be taken to hospital. On cue, an ambulance sped, sirens blaring, out of the prison gates.

After the night’s violence, as I expected, there were even more people out on the street. The police are still brutal. But the sheer number of people makes it hard for them to control the crowds. Fireworks were being thrown. And the police, under the barrage of sparks and lights, were finding it difficult to hold that line in front of the Marriott.

So many people are coming out onto the streets, it was as if the post-election lull, the inertia that took hold of the protests, had never happened. There is an incredible feeling of unity. This is our moment.

By six AM though, the police advanced once more, this time firing rubber bullets at protestors. A group of masked men were walking down Besiki Street, perpendicular to Rustaveli Avenue. Protestors were being penned in, unable to escape ‘police’ intent on violence. There were people on the ground, being stomped on by multiple officers. No mercy was shown. Women were beaten. Old people. Journalists. Children. The police were swearing at people, humiliating protestors as they beat them, seeming to enjoy their work. They seemed to believe Georgian Dream propaganda that we are all anti-national agitators backed by some nefarious combination of the EU, CIA and George Soros.

They are arresting fewer people though. Our prisons are full to the brim with protestors. On November 30, schools, businesses, and organizations around the country said they were going on strike. Videos made the rounds that showed the extent of police brutality. Georgians throughout the country are outraged. In the evening, protestors gather around the offices of TV Pirveli, the public broadcaster, demanding that the media do its job. The protestors will be given airtime, the channel’s executives promise. Later that night, I hear that my friend Dachi is being brought in front of a judge. They want to make space for new prisoners. 

The police have become instruments of state oppression, using pepper spray, water cannons, tear gas, and excessive violence to suppress peaceful protesters. Twenty eight journalists have been injured in just two days and all international human rights norms have been violated.

Still, despite all the horror, I feel positive. Georgians are refusing to be intimidated. Everyone I know who has been arrested and/or beaten, is back out on the streets.

Police violence has had no effect. Even more people take to the streets on the weekend. People are still being arrested. But there are far too many now for the arrests to make a dent. There are fewer beatings, now that so many videos of police brutality are circulating. Firework use has become more targeted and tactical. One legend even managed to rig up a homemade Gatling gun, pushing back a swarm of riot police with a dazzling burst.

Once again, though, at six am, the police make their customary advance. This time though there are fewer men in masks alongside. And as we walk away, the police aren’t engaging, aren’t looking for protestors to beat and bully. Many are speculating about this apparent softening. I just think we’re facing the B-squad, while the thugs rest.

Right now though we take advantage and walk towards Tbilisi State University, managing to occupy and block off one of the most important arteries of the city. Tonight was a win. And we’ll take it, knowing there are many more battles to be fought.

Tonight was historic. It finally felt like we were a properly organized resistance. There were more people on the streets. More medics. More people prepared for teargas. More intelligence. More fireworks. And not least, more courage.

The police, as if acknowledging new realities, became aggressive earlier than usual. Almost as soon as the protestors arrived, the police turned on the water cannons, from inside the parliament premises. At midnight, the water was replaced with tear gas. Protestors were pushed down Rustaveli Avenue, the usual tactic. As they force protestors back, more police like to emerge from side streets, beating and arresting protesters. But this time we were ready, shooting fireworks at the police and neutralizing tear gas canisters as fast as we could. There were seasoned veterans on the front lines, looking out for the injured and coordinating the crowd’s movements.

Exhausted and stretched thin, the police were less effective and on edge. They knew they were in a battle, that we were, for once, returning fire. We even used drones to help us keep tabs on police movement and organize ourselves. We understood that by being mobile, we made life more difficult for the police.

By six AM, as they have every day since the protests began on November 28, the police began to indiscriminately round up and arrest protestors. Many of those arrested, as acknowledged by global human rights organizations, have been severely beaten, their faces rearranged by the vicious riot police. 

I went home. But there were still protestors out there. On TV, I saw a miracle: police circling a group of protestors shrouded in smoke, but when the smoke cleared, the protestors had disappeared. The police, stretching down the avenue, looked confused. I almost felt sorry for them – no sleep, no arrests, and punked in view of the whole country by a bunch of kids they were trying to bully.

The protests are growing in size and scale. We need to keep this momentum, to show the authorities that we have staying power, that we will fight for our rights.

Last night, I found myself on the river bank with about 300 other people. The police have started to crack down harder. They have been arresting opposition politicians as well as continuing to beat and arrest protestors on the street. I was on the periphery of the crowd when I saw a brand new white Skoda with tinted windows, a car normally favored by high ranking police officers, being driven directly at protestors. More and more people across Georgia are coming to understand just how extreme the police violence has been. Protestors who have been released from prison have been talking about being beaten to near death, about being taken to a van far from the cameras and journalists and being tortured. Many have said that the police threatened to sexually assault them with truncheons, others have described in graphic detail the severity of unprovoked beatings. On TV, a protestor said the police put a gun to his head, threatening to blow his brains out if he didn’t unlock his phone.

Since November 28, the protests have been completely spontaneous. People feel they are in an existential struggle. That Georgia is being dragged back into the Russian orbit, even as the majority of people, especially young people, link their future to Europe and think of the European Union as a form of protection against Russian expansionism.

For obvious reasons, Georgian Dream would rather pretend the protests are organized by opposition parties and activists funded by and beholden to Western interests. So now the next phase of the crackdown has begun. The offices of opposition parties and civil society organizations are being raided without warrants. Police are going on fishing expeditions, seizing every electronic device they can. Opposition leader Niko Gvaramia was beaten unconscious and dragged into an unmarked police car. And in a bid to stop the use of fireworks, which protestors have used to defend themselves and embarrass riot police, the revenue service has reportedly closed fireworks shops and is even looking at shops that sell helmets and masks.

This government is revealing its true self and every day it’s turning more people into resistance fighters.

Luka’s diary from last month

With everyone anxiously monitoring the results of the US elections as they came in, it felt today as if I lived in Georgia the state, not Georgia the country. When it became clear Donald Trump was the winner, some celebrated, while others felt even more hopeless. Like many, I worry that Trump’s stand on negotiating with Putin could weaken the US’s position in the region, giving Russia even more of a hold over Georgia than it already has. I really hope I’m wrong.

This is an account of the last couple of days on the street in Tbilisi, as we protest the sham election of October 26. Understandably, the world’s eyes are elsewhere right now, but our battle for our democracy continues.

I'm heading to a protest organized by the opposition where they say they will show us proof of election fraud and present us with a plan of action. I'm so anxious I’m actually shivering. I really hope the opposition realizes that they need to show a united front. The doubts are growing by the day and this is probably their last chance to show us why we voted for them.  Now is the time for them to  honor the trust we put in them.

After just a couple of hours, I’m already back home. To say that the protest was a disappointment would be an understatement. Greta Thunberg might have been there, reportedly wearing a keffiyeh and expressing her solidarity with protestors at this “outrageous development,” this “authoritarian development,” but the turnout was below par. The lack of people protesting, compared to the numbers who hit the street in the wake of the stolen election, was noticeable. Morale, it seemed, was low and people were looking to opposition leaders for answers. 

Instead we got platitudes. “The plan is you.”  “The plan is to fight.” “The plan is to not let Georgian Dream steal our voices.” “The plan is to be out on the streets.” “The plan is to have real democracy.” 

These are not plans! And if the plan is to “fight,” you need a plan, a strategy, for the fight, no? For the young people out on the street, whose blood is boiling, the opposition’s words were demoralizing. Still, I’m going to show up for the protests that are being planned every day. Our protests are going to drag on longer than we would have hoped but we have to find a way to stay the course.

Honestly I feel exhausted. I'm afraid that like many others I'm going to grow cold to the situation and stop feeling anger, stop feeling anything. Already, it feels like life has been sucked out of these beautiful, bright young people, who were once so energetic and vocal. Dead inside, would be the best way to describe how we are starting to feel.

What a difference a day makes. This morning, I woke up to the news that the district court judge in Tetritskaro had ruled that the rights of voters to keep ballots secret had been violated, thus annulling results from 31 polling stations in two constituencies. The lawsuit is one of many filed by the Georgian Young Lawyers’ Association and Vladimir Khuchua is the first judge to rule in their favor. He upheld their complaint that the ballot paper was so thin it was possible to read people’s votes through the paper. If the Young Lawyers Association can force enough annulments, the process would require snap elections. After Judge Khuchua’s verdict, Georgian Dream has decided to bundle all legal complaints about voters’ secrecy rights into a single trial to be heard by one judge.

Just as I was heading out to the protest, I learned that the venue had changed. The opposition wanted people to gather in front of the Court of Appeals in Tbilisi. I turned on the TV to see if we had anyone reporting from the courthouse. Sure enough, a crew from TV Formula was there, waiting for protestors to show up. But guess who had got there before them? Half the cops in the city. They surrounded the courthouse and even put a lock on the gate. A gate that is never closed. What a symbolic image that was – Georgian Dream literally locking down our courts.

On my way to the Court of Appeals, I feel much more hopeful than I did last night. Seeing our young lawyers working to overturn the election and seeing that there are judges who will put the law and their principles first gave me some energy and belief. Though it’s still a far cry from how I felt during the protests on election day. Outside the courthouse, most of the protestors were my parents' age. There were some young people, but for once we were not the majority. The atmosphere was calm. Even with hundreds of police officers walking around trying to listen in on conversations. 

At some point, we started a march from the courthouse. Where we were going, though, was unclear. I asked around and no one knew. We were just following, like perfect soldiers. I guess we were tired of thinking for ourselves. Eventually,  I managed to flag down one of the organizers who answered my question. We were going nowhere in particular. We were going to march on Tsereteli Avenue to disrupt traffic. 

To my surprise the people stuck in traffic because of us were not complaining. You could even sense support from them. What became clear to me at the end of the day was that we may have lost the critical mass, but the protests are still alive. We just need a push. We need sanctions. We need our visas revoked, and some bans on our banking system for starters. The only way to bring people back out on the streets is to make them feel uncomfortable and shatter Georgian Dream’s lies about prosperity, economic growth, and euro integration. Everyone needs to understand that over the last 12 years Georgian Dream made more money than we can wrap our heads around. The money it now uses to buy this country.

The fact that western leaders are threatening us with sanctions but are issuing none only helps to push Georgian Dream’s false narrative that they are taking the country into Europe. Sanctions might be the last hope we have left if we want to build up a wave of civil disobedience. Before, that is, they start arresting everyone who dares to speak up, and induce such fear that any change in the future will be impossible.

Luka’s diary from last month

My country officially became a satellite state of Russia. Twelve years of fighting has come to this; a Russian puppet government managed to yet again get “elected.”
These elections have seen unprecedented voter turnouts not only in the country but also abroad. And now it looks like there was some unprecedented voter fraud too.

Waking up this morning I felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. Months of sleepless nights spent in the streets protesting, that constant paralyzing stress you feel, seeing your country lose a war it has been fighting for over 200 years, all gone! Today, I thought, is the final battle.

While still in bed I immediately checked my phone to get the  morning news. I couldn't wait to vote! It was around  7am when I came across the first video of Georgian immigrants in the U.S driving to the voting location. The image of a U.S highway filled with cars bearing Georgian flags will live in my head for years to come. I felt so proud of my people I started tearing up. Video after video of immigrants voting abroad were coming in by the minute. Lines of Georgian voters stretching for blocks on end in major cities around the world. We were mobilized, we were together, we were going to win! Everyone in the city was excited to fulfill their civic duty and once and for all end Russian rule over our country. 

I came across the first video depicting a fight at one of the voting stations. An observer who was supposed to make sure there was no fraud at his station was getting beaten up by multiple thugs sent there to derail the peaceful processions of elections. These thugs are nothing new. For months the government has been using them to scare journalists, activists and political figures by means of violent physical attacks.

It became apparent straight away that the Georgian Dream was going to try everything not to lose their grip on power. Throughout the day more videos of voter fraud and intimidation started to surface. In one of them you could see a man dumping two handfuls of ballots into the ballot box even though observers were trying to prevent him. That voting location was shut down within the hour. Preventing hundreds from casting their vote. These were far from being the only incidents. Fraud and violation reports were coming in so fast it was hard to keep up. 

But still, everyone kept their spirits high, and remained unshaken. People believed. Restlessly waiting for the exit polls. 
Seeing how mobilized the whole population was despite all the violence and electoral fraud kept our hopes up. The fact that Georgian immigrants traveled over 2000 km to vote at their own expense because the Georgian government did not organize facilities close enough to everyone proved to us that no matter what hurdles you put in our way, we would overcome them.

When the exit polls came in, and we saw that the opposition received  the majority of votes–it felt like a turning point. Some people started celebrating preemptively. The Georgian Dream exit poll on the other hand showed a 10 percent difference more or less in their favor. Next thing we knew, Bidzina Ivanishvili had come on TV to congratulate his party on their victory. So the first images we saw on TV were both sides celebrating based on the results from their own exit polls. Imagine how insane of a sight that was, after a whole day of sitting on pins and needles, we still don’t know who won. 

The only thing left to do is wait for the count. The count comes in with 53% in favor of Georgian  Dream. Which we all know is a scam. So tonight, as of writing this we are still waiting for the ballots to be recounted manually. But we already know that Georgian Dream made it possible for individuals to vote at multiple voting stations so the manual count will still give them the advantage. 

Our elections were stolen, and we know it. A day that started full of hope, quickly turned into despair. What do we do next? Will the opposition present a plan? Do we look to the west? The west, that debated sanctions for so long that now they will hardly affect anything. Do we organize a revolution?

I guess I'll have to wake up tomorrow to see. Today, what I learned is that this was far from our final battle.

It is now day two after the election. Literally! I wrote the top part last night, feeling powerless about the situation trying to feel even for a tiny bit that I was doing something proactive. Today, I don't even know how I feel. My only thought is ’oh shit here we go again.’ Gerogians in New York, are still in line to vote, even though their voices will not be counted. Imagine traveling thousands of kilometers to cast one ballot, only to find out that in Georgia the Georgian Dream gave multiple ballots to its sham electors. It destroys your trust in democracy and in our western partners who we believed in so much. 

I'm watching TV now, eager to see a solution. And all I see is foreign diplomats condemning the Georgian Dream without actually proposing a solution. They are still talking about how a government should not act in this way and that the Georgian Dream needs to take back the results. Moscow doesn't care when you wave a finger. And of course a government should not act this way, but telling them will not change anything. They need to be punished and we need your help to punish them. But still, the only thing we hear from our partners is their shock and outrage. 

Georgia should be an example and a warning to the western leaders, diplomats and policymakers. And hopefully make them realize how little they understand about the power dynamics within the post Soviet space. The balance you once knew is now on the tipping point. You in the west need to listen to your Ukrainian and Georgian counterparts when it comes to Russia because who knows it better than us? You, who live thousands of kilometers away or us the people Russia has tried to subdue for over 200 years? You take time to discuss every single move while Russia acts! That's why sanctions now are 100 times less effective than they would have been 6 months ago. It is time for new diplomacy. A more firm diplomacy. A more active and understanding one. One adapted to the ever-changing modern geopolitical space. Because you can't continue looking at the post Soviet space with the same optics you use to look at your actually democratic countries. When western diplomats talk about Georgia the only point they are conveying is how shocked they are that democracy is not working here. You have to understand that the fight we are leading is for our society to function as democratically as yours. This is something many westerners take for granted. But we have to fight for it. And your inadequacy to act helps further propagation of the Russian narrative about the powerlessness of the west. In hindsight the west should have realized this with their semi useful sanctions against Russia at the beginning of the invasion of Ukraine.

Please realize that you are actually gambling with real peoples lives that believe in you, and have given you their trust, in Ukraine and in Georgia. You need to prove that the west still holds the power of change. The same power that has been the cornerstone of democracy around the world since WW2. Time for debates, promises and threats is over. It is time for action!

We are back in front of the parliament. Why? Because our elections were rigged and we came out to see what the opposition leaders had to say. I got to the protest at 19:30 and immediately felt something was off. All the previous protests had some kind of electricity in the air, but this time it was different. An unusual mix of fatigue, anger and silent despair. I have never felt anything like this before. All the Gen-Zs who previously were all about peace now wanted to “fuck shit up” even though they all knew that today was not that kind of protest. The closest they got was when they heckled Viktor Orban the Hungarian Prime Minister on his exit from the Marriott Hotel on Rustaveli Avenue by calling him a dick in his own language. He was on an official visit to congratulate the ruling party on their win in the elections.

The first speaker of the night was our president Salome Zourabichvili who was then followed by all the members of different opposition parties. Her speech gave very little hope to our constantly growing desperation.

The post Stolen Dreams: A Diary From Tbilisi appeared first on Coda Story.

As a kid, I always bubbled with energy too. I talk at triple speed, and people often have to tell me to slow down. My childhood neighborhood, the Abanotubani district, lies beneath a great gorge in Tbilisi. A huge, ruined fortress overlooks our neighborhood —- for centuries, it served as a stronghold for Tbilisi, protecting it against invaders.

Now, views of the fortress are obscured by an even bigger mansion, built by the billionaire Bidzina Ivanishvili, the richest man in our country. His wealth is about a third of our gross domestic product. Construction on his house began when I was a toddler: a great sea of glass and metal dominating the gorge. I remember looking up and thinking it looked like a Bond villain’s lair. 

Ivanishvili became the biggest philanthropist in Georgia, supporting arts and culture, fixing schools, houses and hospitals. But even as a young kid, I was doubtful that some billionaire was truly going to help our country. 

Protests were the backdrop of my childhood in Georgia. One of my earliest memories is sitting on my dad’s shoulders during the Rose Revolution. I was three. It was a peaceful uprising to oust the then-President Eduard Shevardnadze, ending his reign of chaos that had lasted more than a decade. A man called Mikheil Saakashvili was elected after him and set about trying to rid the country of the corruption that had plagued it for so long. 

While there were problems during Saakashvili’s rule, there was also a huge shift in the country towards democracy and reform. For a while, things felt hopeful. 

Of course, we always lived below our powerful billionaire neighbor — the oligarch Ivanishvili in his spy villain-worthy lair. But I also grew up being aware of another big neighbor, one that sat right above Georgia. On a clear day in the hills above my house in Tbilisi, you could see the Greater Caucasus mountain mange — the natural border with Russia.

I was on vacation in those hills above Tbilisi in 2008 when Russia invaded Georgia. I remember the warplanes buzzing overhead and how my mom went into a panicked frenzy. During that war, Russia occupied South Ossetia, a region to the northwest of Tbilisi. I guess that was when I started to absorb the idea that Russia was not our friend. 

When I was 12, a party called Georgian Dream came to power, backed by Ivanishvili, the billionaire who lived above us. Ivanishvili, like many oligarchs from the former Soviet space, has close ties to Putin. My parents felt uneasy about it all and moved the family to Paris, where I spent my teenage years. 

We lived in the bougie 6th arrondissement. Kids at my school had no idea where Georgia was — I was constantly having to explain that I was from the country, not the U.S. state. The country by the black sea — “la mere noire,” I would intone, again and again. It was Georgia for dummies. People would nod, not quite knowing. One girl literally thought Georgia was a place in the Arctic region of Lapland. If I was giving her the benefit of the doubt, I guess she was thinking of the island of South Georgia in Antarctica. Wrong again. I realized it was often easier to just pretend I was French like everyone else. 

As I grew older, though, I became prouder of my roots. I found a group of friends who came from all over. They introduced me to an important part of French life: going to protests. At those protests, I learned a lesson — my voice matters. 

The French really put the “pro” in protests — they do not mess around. While I was in high school, the cops killed a French activist with a police grenade during a protest. It caused uproar across the country, so I tagged along with older kids to blockade our school, barricading it with trash cans for two weeks to push for justice for the guy who was killed. 

I started to learn that protest actually works in a democracy. I would go between Paris and Tbilisi, taking lessons from my French friends and bringing them to Georgia. “You guys go home too soon when you protest. You stand there and think stuff is going to fall out of the sky,” I would tell my Georgian friends. Last year, though, a new law was proposed in Georgia, and things went full chaos-mode. 

It’s called the foreign agents law. It’s a copycat of the same regulation in Russia. It dictates that any institution getting 20% of its money from abroad has to register with a statewide system as an agent of foreign influence. 

In practice, it makes it easier for the state to crush opposition, get rid of foreign-aided projects that make our life better and stamp out free expression by creating scapegoats. It gives the government arbitrary reasons to arrest anyone they deem a “foreign influence operation.” 

Loads of my friends in Tbilisi work on projects that would be deemed a “foreign agent” by this new law. Whether they work in plastic recycling programs, as independent journalists or as human rights lawyers, they now face extra interrogation by the state. It’s basically a tool for political repression. 

The law’s proposal last year lit a flame under us in Tbilisi. We organized big protests and for a while, it worked — the government didn’t press ahead. But this year, they tried again. 

On April 3, the Georgian Dream party announced plans to bring back the bill. I felt a mixture of anger and hopelessness when I heard. Here we go again, I thought. Here’s undeniable proof of our government blindly trying to follow Russia's lead. I got ready to fight. 

Maybe if you had the privilege of growing up in a first-world country, you don’t understand, but for us this law means the difference between having a functioning democracy and existing as a puppet for Russia. It means losing our freedom of speech. 

On the morning of April 15, the protests began. 

My friends and I have joined the demonstrations every day, trying to put the lessons I’d learned in France into practice. I believe that if we can inspire enough people to get out on the streets, we can overwhelm the brutality we are fighting against. For now, the state is fighting back hard, with tear gas, rubber bullets, water cannon and by simply beating protesters to a pulp. I’m worried things are going to descend into even more violence, though I hope we can avoid it.

On the night of April 30, I put on a gas mask and assigned myself a task: deactivate as many tear gas canisters as I could. There’s a couple of ways to do this. You can put a plastic cup over the canister before it starts to smoke, which snuffs it out. Or, if it’s smoking already, you can dunk the canister in a bucket of water.

Things escalated fast that night. Protesters surged onto Tbilisi’s main street, Rustaveli Avenue, and as they did, police unleashed a torrent of tear gas canisters onto us from the side streets, scattering the crowd. I ran forwards into the impact zone, grabbing the canisters and submerging them into bottles of water that I had previously set out. It was a race to get to the canisters before they started spinning out of control. 

The police began advancing from the side streets and blasting everyone in the area with water cannon, throwing them to the ground. They didn’t care if they hit protesters or journalists — and they hit both. Officers also beat up anyone they could get their hands on. A no man's land emerged between the protesters and the police. In the buffer zone were journalists — and me. Along with dealing with the tear gas, I was also taking pictures — using loads of flash to annoy the officers — just for my own personal project. I managed to capture several instances of how police laid into the protestors. 

It was time to build barricades, French style, and invoke the lessons I had learned in Paris. I started dragging metal barrier fences together and getting people to help. I then told people to gather up trash cans, just like we did in high school. Five guys started to help me. From that moment on, I was standing in the buffer zone in front of the barricades, directing people like an orchestra conductor. I got them to add umbrellas to the structure — a tactic inspired not by the French, but by pro-democracy protesters in Hong Kong — to protect from the water cannon. 

The crowd of police just watched as I directed the resistance. They recorded everything, sussing me out. Then, they mobilized the arresting squad. The police surged forward, grabbing anyone they could — journalists, protesters, they didn’t care. I started to run, but my fashion-victim status let me down, badly. I was wearing my cute new purple Adidas Sambas. But those shoes have no grip, as anyone who owns a pair knows. I slipped on the wet ground. 

A bunch of masked police jumped on me and began beating me mercilessly. At one point I nearly scrambled away, but again my sartorial choices screwed me over. My blazer was tied around my waist and they grabbed it and pulled me back.

By law in Georgia, all police officers have to wear a visible badge number. But during the protests, police hide their badges and mask up with balaclavas, so it’s difficult to prosecute them for brutality down the line.  

They started hitting the back of my head hard, and all I could do was protect my eyes and curl into the fetal position. They dragged me behind the police line and continued laying into me. Then they surrounded me, taunting me, telling me to hit myself and say that I was a little bitch. My legs were like jelly and I could barely stand. I did whatever they ordered, desperate, until they threw me into a van. Already, there was a lump the size of a bar of soap on the back of my head, with deep blue panda rings forming around my eyes. 

They hauled me to prison, but it took them six hours to get me inside. There was already a queue of other protesters they’d caught. My captors waited in the van with me, watching Russian TikToks for hours on end. Honestly, that was almost worse than the beating.  

The atmosphere inside the cells was desperate. People were silently pacing up and down, their spirits hitting rock bottom. Police were bringing in more protesters all the time, their radios crackling. I was in a cell with three other guys. “They beat me like a dog,” one of them said, showing me a bootprint-shaped bruise on his back. I realized we had to get the morale up, fast — and show the guards they couldn’t break us. 

We sang all the songs we could think of — “Bella Ciao,” the European anthem, a bunch of Georgian songs. At one point I even sang the Marseillaise. The police told us to shut up. We kept singing, and cracked terrible jokes that this was a five-star digital detox. 

I got out of jail because a lawyer helped me, pro bono. She works for the Human Rights Center, a group of lawyers here in Georgia that under the new law would be at the top of the state’s list of “foreign agents.” That lawyer, she probably weighs 120 pounds, isn’t much more than 5 feet tall, and she’s formidable. When she goes into the police station, you see the fear in their eyes. She’s the best. If it wasn’t for her and her organization, I would still be in jail. This Russian law wants to take away our access to human rights lawyers like her. 

Two weeks on, and my concussion is getting better, day by day. The nausea has eased and the daily headaches are becoming less intense. 

I’m back on the streets. At these protests, the energy feels different. There’s a crazy electricity in the air. Everyone is singing, fighting, determined not to lose their country. A lot of the protesters are my age — Gen Z. We don’t remember the chaos and corruption of the 1990s. We’re not worn down, like older people, by decades of protesting. We’re also more savvy than our parents’ generation about fact-checking. We don’t just swallow the stream of propaganda that’s fed to us. We’re ready to fight. I spoke with my uncle on the phone about it yesterday morning, just before the law was passed — he told me “my hopes are in Gen Z and a miracle.” 

By Luka Gviniashvili as told to Isobel Cockerell

Correction: This article has been updated to correct the name of the lawyer's association that advised Gviniashvili. It was the Human Rights Center, not the Young Lawyer's Association.

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