Recent news from Georgia has been overwhelmingly grim. The ruling Georgian Dream party has intensified its crackdown on dissent, jailing political opponents, advancing repressive legislation, and eroding democratic safeguards. On the surface, it may appear that the regime is consolidating its grip on power with little opposition.
But that perception overlooks a critical reality: anti-government and pro-democratic groups, though no longer rallying huge crowds, have not faded. Beneath a relative calm lies a slow-burning determination among Georgia’s strongly pro-Western citizens — one that holds promise for eventual transformation.
Even in this August’s sweltering heat, the daily protester presence on Rustaveli Avenue in the capital, Tbilisi, has not disappeared. Demonstrations have now continued for over 250 days, an unprecedented stretch in Georgia’s modern political history. The endurance and tenacity of this movement is striking.
Furthermore, a clear trend has emerged from anti-government protests in recent years: each wave of public outrage has been stronger than the last. The largest eruption came in 2023 when the government attempted to pass the so-called “Russian Law,” then intensified a year later when the law was reintroduced and only escalated further when Georgian Dream appeared to abandon the country’s EU integration path, preceded by a parliamentary election in October that many regarded as neither free nor fair.
These protest movements have followed a pattern — rising in waves when citizens see the right moment to mobilize. Although protests have now temporarily quieted, the underlying discontent has not waned. What is missing is a credible political roadmap that gives people confidence that their mobilization can bring about real change. The absence of trusted opposition parties has created a vacuum, slowing momentum and leaving anger without a clear channel for transformation.
Nonetheless, Georgian Dream’s escalating repression and overt pro-Russian pivot is only fueling public anger. Frustration now surfaces in small but powerful moments of civic reaction — where citizens voice anger, intervene, or simply refuse to look away. After a tragic roof overhang collapse in Tbilisi, which killed two residents, public fury quickly turned toward the government, seen as both incompetent and negligent. In another widely shared incident, police were filmed attempting to violently detain an elderly man who — while walking home with groceries — intervened to stop what he assessed as police mistreatment of another citizen. Such acts, small but symbolic, reflect a persistent spirit of civic courage.
In the absence of viable alternatives, the country has entered a phase that resembles attritional warfare — where protesters rely on endurance, hoping the regime will eventually falter under sustained public pressure.
The same defiant spirit can be seen among political prisoners who have been detained during rallies or targeted for actively resisting the regime in other ways. Though they remain unjustly persecuted, they refuse to ask for pardons. In a move widely seen as an effort to ease pressure on those complicit in political crackdown — including judges, prosecutors, and those law enforcement officers who have given false testimony — the regime recently banned photo and video recordings from courtrooms.
“I am not going to ask for pardon. This is a matter of honor,” said one prisoner, Onise Tskhadadze, during a recent court hearing — a sentiment echoed by the overwhelming majority of others. “I don’t need a pardon. The charges are trumped up,” said another detainee, the prominent actor Andro Chichinadze, responding to hints from the government that he might be freed in return for an apology.
These declarations come against the backdrop of profound personal loss for some: four detainees, including Tskhadadze, have lost a parent while in custody. Their refusal to bend, even in grief, has struck a deep chord with the public and has only intensified public outrage.
Journalist Mzia Amaghlobeli has become a symbol of the regime’s abuse of power and its effort to criminalize dissent. She has spent months in pre-trial detention over a minor incident and has now been sentenced to two years in prison. Her case has galvanized public anger and underscored the growing disconnect between the government and a society increasingly unwilling to accept injustice in silence. “Do not break. Time has not run out yet,” she told supporters at her final hearing on August 4..
Another case was reminiscent of the darkest Soviet repressive tactics; a court greenlighted forced psychiatric examination for a teacher and activist currently in pre-trial detention. Despite the regime’s retribution, many psychologists, social workers, lawyers, and educators spoke up to condemn the abuse of psychiatry for political purposes.
Meanwhile, on the same day that Amaghlobeli’s sentence was announced, pro-democracy Georgians celebrated the release of another political prisoner — a doctor and activist who was acquitted of drug-possession charges that carried a penalty of up to 20 years in prison. At the time of his arrest, Giorgi Akhobadze had been his bedridden mother’s primary caretaker; she died in January, only a month after he was detained.
A recent poll showed that even 40% of Georgian Dream voters want to see political prisoners released. This serves as a stark reminder for the regime: harsh crackdowns, arbitrary detentions, exorbitant fines, and draconian laws may have made confronting the regime more difficult, but they have not stopped it and come at a steep political cost at home.
More broadly, Georgian Dream regime lacks the institutional capacity for large-scale repression and faces a society that has repeatedly defied it. Unlike authoritarian systems in Russia or Belarus, Georgia does not have the same armory of centralized state power needed for sweeping control and enforcement. Its capacity for mass coercion is weaker, but its civil society is more active — and its citizens more unyielding in spirit.
This creates a fundamentally different political landscape, one in which consolidated resistance has the potential to swell into a tidal wave and set the stage for democratic renewal. If change does come, it will be the result of this ongoing and relentless grassroots struggle.
Meanwhile, the West can — and must — do more. A unified stance against authoritarian backsliding, backed by very broad, targeted sanctions on all levels of regime enablers — police, judges, prosecutors, and others — would send an unmistakable message: undermining democracy carries real, personal costs.
Georgia’s democratic flame may flicker, but it remains alight.
Irina Arabidze is a Non-resident Fellow with the Democratic Resilience Program at CEPA and a visiting lecturer at the Caucasus University in Tbilisi. A Fulbright scholar, she holds a master’s degree in International Affairs from the Bush School of Government and Public Service at Texas A&M University and a graduate degree in International Relations and European Studies from the Central European University.
Europe’s Edge is CEPA’s online journal covering critical topics on the foreign policy docket across Europe and North America. All opinions expressed on Europe’s Edge are those of the author alone and may not represent those of the institutions they represent or the Center for European Policy Analysis. CEPA maintains a strict intellectual independence policy across all its projects and publications.
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