ORIGINS AND EVOLUTION OF THE GEORGIAN-ABKHAZ CONFLICT

by Stephen D. Shenfield

In this paper* I trace the emergence and evolution of the Georgian—Abkhaz conflict up to the invasion of

Abkhazia by Georgian forces on August 14, 1992. I try to pinpoint the most crucial events and causative factors,

and to infer the likely motives and calculations of the parties to the conflict. Section I is an analytical narrative,

subdivided into the following seven periods:

1) The period before the Russian occupation of Abkhazia (up to 1810);

2) The tsarist period (1810—1917);

3) The period of independent Georgia (1917—1921);

4) The early Soviet period (1921—1936);

5) The period of the Stalin--Beria terror (December 1936—1953);

6) The post-Stalin period (1953—1985);

7) The period of perestroika and post-Soviet transition (1986—August 1992).

Section II is devoted to the decision taken in summer 1992 by the State Council of Georgia, headed by

Shevardnadze, to intervene militarily in Abkhazia: the likely motives and goals of the Georgian leadership, the

direct trigger of the decision (if any), and whether and how the decision might have been averted by preventive

diplomacy. Also considered is the related question of why the intervention occurred during the presidency of

Shevardnadze rather than during that of Gamsakhurdia.

In Section III I share some general reflections concerning the failures of perception and calculation on both sides

that contributed to the escalation of the conflict to large-scale violence.

SECTION I

ANALYTICAL NARRATIVE OF THE GEORGIAN--ABKHAZ CONFLICT

1) The period before the Russian occupation of Abkhazia (up to 1810)

Since ancient times, the Abkhaz have been in the somewhat unusual position of participating simultaneously in

two otherwise quite separate systems of cultural and political interaction.

On the one hand, the Abkhaz are closely related by descent, language, and folk culture to the Circassian (Adyg)

tribes of the Northwest Caucasus. Abkhazia may therefore be regarded as a southward extension of Circassia,

with the land of the Ubykh (prior to their deportation by Russia in the 1860s) serving as a connecting bridge

between the two. Although the Abkhaz are now the only Adyg-related group remaining on the southern side of the

Great Caucasus Range, there is evidence that in prehistoric times a proto-Adyg culture stretched much further to

the south, into what is now northern Turkey (Chirikba 1998). The Abkhaz have a broader though less intense

linguistic and cultural affinity—reflected, for instance, in the shared heritage of the Nart epics—with the “mountain

peoples” of the North Caucasus as a whole—that is, including the Ossets, Nakh (Chechen and Ingush), and

native peoples of Dagestan as well as the Adyg. Thus, the Abkhaz are the sole “mountain people” of the South

Caucasus, tucked into the northwest corner of that region, where the mountains meet the sea.

On the other hand, although Abkhaz was quite unrelated to the languages of the Kartvelian group that later

evolved into modern standard Georgian, the geographical proximity of the Abkhaz to the Kartvelian (proto-

Georgian) tribes, especially to the Megrels (Mingrels) and Svans, led them—or, more precisely, their nobility—to

take full part in the culture and politics of the area that would in time come to be called Georgia. When not under

foreign (non-Kartvelian) domination, Abkhazia was one of the dozen or so local principalities of this area that

closely interacted and often fought with one another, constituting a more or less self-contained states system. The

Abkhaz nobility became integrated not only into the proro-Georgian states system, but also into the corresponding

proto-Georgian culture, using the proto-Georgian (Kartlian) language for purposes of diplomacy, Christian

religious liturgy, and literature. The bilingualism of the ruling dynasty was reflected in its dual names: Chachba in

Abkhaz, Shervashidze in Georgian. Abkhaz in this period was the unwritten language of the common people.

This dual orientation of the Abkhaz, it seems to me, always contained the potential for long-term conflict between

the Abkhaz and their Kartvelian neighbors (as distinct from the wars that all the proto-Georgian principalities

intermittently waged against one another). If the initiative for Georgia’s unification had come consistently from the

eastern kingdoms of Kartli and/or Kakheti, then Abkhazia’s cultural and linguistic connections with the North

Caucasus would have made it a natural focus of resistance to east-Georgian domination.

This, however, was not how the process of the unification of Georgia developed. In fact, the first state to unite

most of what now constitutes Georgia (plus some areas that are now outside of Georgia) was a product of the

diplomatic and military “eastern policy” of Abkhazia itself. This state, which lasted from 978 until the Mongol

invasions of the mid-13th century, was called the Kingdom of the Abkhazians and the Kartvelians; its first king,

Bagrat III, was the son of a Kartlian prince and an Abkhazian princess (Bgazhba 1998). At this time, the terms

“Abkhazia” and “Abkhazians” were used to refer to the whole of the Abkhaz-Kartvelian kingdom and its

inhabitants (Hewitt and Khiba 1998, p. 173). Following the demise of the joint kingdom, the system of local

principalities was restored and remained in place right up until the Russian conquest of the Caucasus in the 19th

century.

2) The tsarist period (1810—1917)

Subjugation and resistance

Tsarist Russia annexed the east Georgian principalities of Kartli and Kakheti in 1800. The turn of the west

Georgian principalities came a few years later. In 1810 Russian vessels in the Black Sea bombarded the fortress

at Sukhum(i)1 and followed up with a naval landing. Simultaneously, Russian troops entered Abkhazia from

neighboring Megrelia, by this time a client kingdom of Russia. The purpose of the invasion was to enthrone

Seferbey, a rebel Abkhaz prince who had taken refuge in Megrelia. Russian historiography, as one might expect,

characterizes the episode as the “voluntary entry” of Abkhazia into the Russian state. In fact, virtually all Abkhaz

were opposed to incorporation into Russia and continued to recognize Seferbey’s half-brother Aslanbey as the

legitimate ruler, despite a Russian-Megrel plot to frame him as a parricide.

Recurrent uprisings against the rule of Russia and its puppet princes were harshly suppressed, and in the 1850s

and 1860s many Abkhaz joined the Circassian struggle against Russian conquest. In 1864 Russia abolished the

formally autonomous Abkhaz principality and placed Abkhazia under direct military administration. New uprisings

followed in 1866, and then again in 1877—78, coinciding with the war between Russia and Turkey, which backed

the Abkhaz rebels. The suppression of the uprisings was accompanied by the forcible deportation of much of the

Abkhaz population—perhaps as many as 100,000 people in all—to the Ottoman Empire, leaving uninhabited

large tracts of land amounting to almost half the area of Abkhazia (Lak’oba 1998; for a detailed study of the

deportations, see Dzidzariya 1975). Only after this did armed resistance to Russian rule finally come to an end,

and the Abkhaz start to accept the absorption of their country into the empire.

What effect did this long period of resistance and subjugation, lasting two thirds of a century, have on subsequent

relations between Abkhaz and Kartvelians? During this period the Abkhaz still regarded Russia, and not the

Kartvelian principalities, as their main enemy and tormentor. However, they must have resented the role played in

their conquest by Princess Nina, the ruler of Megrelia, who had hosted the traitor Seferbey and from whose

territory the land invasion had been launched. Moreover, the general in command of the invading troops,

Orbeliani, was a Megrel. This may have planted the seeds of later enmity between Abkhaz and Megrels, if not

between Abkhaz and Kartvelians in general.

Emergence of the Russia—Georgia—Abkhazia triangle

During the last few decades of the tsarist period, there occurred a gradual transformation of what had at the

outset been almost exclusively an Abkhaz-Russian confrontation into a primarily Abkhaz-Georgian conflict. This

transformation accompanied the socioeconomic and political consolidation, under the aegis of tsarist Russia, of

the various Kartvelian groups into the modern Georgian nation (Suny 1994). The question at issue was whether

or not Abkhazia would form part of the incipient Georgian nation—the very question that remains at issue today.

Despite the legacy of hostility between them, with respect to this question the Abkhaz and the Russian authorities

were to find themselves on the same side, in opposition to the nascent Georgian national movement. Thus,

relations within the Russia—Georgia—Abkhazia triangle acquired the basic pattern that they retain to this day.

Nevertheless, at least until the last few years of the tsarist regime, the Abkhaz continued to suffer severe

oppression and discrimination. The whole Abkhaz people was officially labeled “guilty of treason” for collaborating

with Turkey in the war of 1877—78; only in 1907 was this stigma finally removed. Abkhaz were forbidden to live in

the three main towns of Abkhazia (Sukhum(i), Gudauta, and Ochamchira) or within seven kilometers of the

seashore, and Abkhaz peasants were deprived of their right to personal plots of land (Lak’oba 1985, p. 8).

Deportations to Turkey also continued, although on a smaller scale. Meanwhile, people from all over the empire

resettled the vacant land that used to belong to the exiled Abkhaz. In 1897 the Abkhaz constituted just over half

the population of Abkhazia, and by the early 20th century they had been reduced to a minority in their own

homeland (Muller 1998). Abkhazia had been transformed from a mostly mono-ethnic territory into the complex

multi-ethnic patchwork it has been ever since.

The growth in anti-Georgian feeling among the Abkhaz in the late 19th century was connected to the fact that a

growing proportion of the new settlers on what the Abkhaz still regarded as “their” lands were Georgians, mainly

land-hungry peasants from Megrelia, Guria, Imereti, and other densely populated lowland districts of western

Georgia. The tsarist authorities tried to limit Georgian migration into Abkhazia, preferring to resettle the vacated

lands with Russians and other non-Georgians, such as Armenians, Greeks, and Estonians, but progress toward

this goal was slow because newcomers to the region, unlike peasants from western Georgia, found it difficult to

adapt to the peculiar natural and climatic conditions: the low-lying areas were subtropical swamps (later drained),

while the mountain slopes were hard to cultivate. (Russians, Armenians, and Greeks did, however, settle in

considerable numbers in the towns, forming the bulk of Abkhazia’s urban population.) Paradoxically, therefore,

Russia, persecutor of the Abkhaz, assumed the role of their defender against Georgian incursions.

Although the migration of peasants from western Georgia into Abkhazia was a spontaneous response to

economic pressures, Abkhaz historians point out that Georgian publicists encouraged the process and tried to

persuade the Russian government to allow it to proceed without constraint. In 1877, for example, the Tiflis Herald

published an article by Yakob Gogebashvili (1840—1912), who was well known as a campaigner for Georgian-

language education, entitled “Who Should Be Settled in Abkhazia?” His answer was: Megrels. Lak’oba remarks

bitterly that the article appeared at a time “when the Abkhaz were bleeding profusely and forced in masses to

leave their homeland.” Those who should have felt sympathy thought only of how to take advantage of others’

misfortune: as the Abkhaz proverb puts it, “a snake bit the one who fell out of the tree” (Hewitt and Khiba 1998, p.

175). The attitude of individuals like Gogebashvili should be understood in its historical and international context:

the late 19th century was the heyday of colonialism and members of “cultured” peoples, with few exceptions,

believed that they had a natural right to colonize the lands of less cultured peoples. Georgians tended (and still

tend) to regard themselves as more cultured than Abkhaz.

What developed after 1877 may be understood as a struggle for the eventual control over Abkhazia between

tsarist Russia and the incipient Georgian national movement. The struggle did not yet, as it would at a later stage,

take the form of a confrontation between Russia and Georgian nationalists demanding an independent Georgia

including Abkhazia. Indeed, the Georgian proto-nationalist publicists of the time made great play with the

argument that in view of the Georgians’ special loyalty to Russia it was in Russia’s true interest to facilitate

expansion of the Georgian demographic, economic, and cultural presence in Abkhazia. The reluctance of the

Russian authorities to comply with Georgian wishes suggests that they had their doubts concerning the

Georgians’ loyalty and sought to impede the development of a Georgian national movement that might later take

an openly secessionist form.

Language and culture

Another sphere of Russian-Georgian rivalry was the competition between Russian and Georgian political, cultural,

and religious elites for influence over the linguistic situation in Abkhazia. In accordance with the general policy of

Russification pursued by the tsarist regime, the Russian authorities aimed to create in Abkhazia a multi-ethnic

community that would rely on Russian as its lingua franca. Meanwhile, Georgian cultural activists strove to

strengthen the position of the Georgian language, in Abkhazia as in Georgia proper. A common assumption on

the part of both Russians and Georgians was that Abkhaz, as the unwritten language of a culturally backward and

almost wholly rural people, was doomed to disappear. The only question was which language would replace it—

Georgian or Russian (Zhorzholiani et al. 1994, p. 11).

The tsarist authorities were nonetheless prepared to tolerate and even facilitate the use of Abkhaz in churches

and schools. The first successful attempt to establish a school in Abkhazia had been made at Okum in 1851 by D.

A. Mach’avariani, a teacher and priest from western Georgia (Dzidzariya 1979, p. 24), and the authorities wanted

to thwart efforts to Georgianize the Abkhaz. True, the use in education of all native non-Russian languages,

Abkhaz included, was severely restricted. Instruction in native languages became possible when Tsar Alexander

II introduced a liberal school reform in the 1860s. New instructions issued in 1906--1907, however, confined

native-language instruction to the first two years of elementary school; older children had to be taught in Russian.

Nevertheless, teaching in Abkhaz was regarded with greater favor than teaching in Georgian.

There was a similar dispute over the language to be used in church services in Abkhazia. This dispute was part

and parcel of a wider struggle between the Georgian and the Russian Orthodox Church for the control of

churches in Abkhaz villages.

Thus, it became common for Russian officials to don the mantle of protectors and patrons of Abkhaz language

and culture. The army general Baron Pyotr K. Uslar was the first Russian to make a serious study of the Abkhaz

language; it was he who, in 1860 or thereabouts, devised the first Abkhaz alphabet of 55 characters based on

Cyrillic script. In 1865 another Russian scholar and military officer, I. A. Bartolomei, composed the first Abkhaz

reading book for use in schools.

Linked to the growth of Abkhaz-language education was the emergence of a very small Abkhaz intelligentsia,

consisting mainly though not exclusively of educators (Dzidzariya 1979). A landmark in this process was the First

Congress of Teachers of Abkhazia, held in Sukhum(i) in 1876. Abkhaz educational and cultural development was

set back by the war and uprising of 1877—78 and by the repressions and deportations that followed. Many

schools were closed or destroyed. The surviving Abkhaz intelligentsia recovered only slowly.

The development of a modern Abkhaz culture and national intelligentsia was therefore underway, but the process

was still at a very early stage at the end of the tsarist era. In March 1917, the Georgian philologist I. A. Kipshidze

would condescendingly remark: “The Abkhaz already have their own literature, religious and secular—true, a very

poor one, but deserving of greater attention all the same” (Dzidzariya 1979, p. 195). Right up to 1912, Abkhaz-

language literature consisted only of elementary school textbooks (the first arithmetic book, by Foma (Omar)

Eshba, was printed in 1907), translations of church prayers, catechism, and homilies, and a few collections of

Abkhaz songs, proverbs, puzzles, and word games. Finally, in 1912, there appeared the first work of original

Abkhaz literature—a collection of verses by Dyrmit Gulia (1874—1960), who is still honored as the Abkhaz

national poet. A college to train teachers for Abkhaz-language schools opened in 1915.

Abkhaz, Georgians, and the revolutionary movement

Toward the end of the 19th century, some members of the new Abkhaz intelligentsia helped to establish the

presence of the All-Russian revolutionary movement in Abkhazia. When the Russian Social Democratic Workers’

Party split into Bolshevik and Menshevik wings in 1903, the majority of the Georgian social democrats aligned

themselves with the Mensheviks, while most of the Abkhaz social democrats became Bolsheviks.

The Abkhaz historian Stanislav Lak’oba has offered contradictory assessments of the relationship that developed

between the revolutionary movement and the Abkhaz people as a whole. He argues that Marxism and class

struggle were alien to the Abkhaz mentality, and that the Abkhaz peasants distrusted the revolutionary movement

in general and the revolution of 1905—1907 in particular as “Georgian” phenomena. He proceeds to accept at

face value the proclamation of April 27, 1907 in which Tsar Nicholas II annulled the “guilt” of the Abkhaz people in

recognition of the loyalty that they had shown to the government (Lak’oba 1998, pp. 85—6). In his earlier book on

Abkhazia in 1905—1907, however, Lak’oba devotes considerable space to the uprisings and rent strikes of the

Abkhaz peasants at this period (Lak’oba 1985, pp. 43, 82-5, 101). In the Abkhaz village of Lykhny, for instance,

peasants attacked the building of the village administration on February 8, 1907 and burned all the tax and debt

records they could find there. It is much more plausible to suppose that the tsar abolished Abkhaz “guilt” and the

discrimination that it justified not as a reward for good behavior but as a concession to Abkhaz discontent. At the

same time, the urban unrest of 1905, in which Georgian workers played the main role, may have strengthened the

anti-Georgian orientation of the authorities and prompted them to more consistent efforts to win the loyalty of the

Abkhaz by posing as their defenders against the Georgians.

3) The period of independent Georgia (1917—1921)

When Russia imploded in 1917, an independent Georgian state emerged under Menshevik rule while the central

government in Moscow temporarily disappeared as an actor in the region’s politics. The gradual transformation of

the original Russian-Abkhaz conflict into a Georgian-Abkhaz conflict thereby reached completion.

In May 1917, Abkhazia joined the North Caucasian republics in the Union of Mountain Peoples, later reconstituted

as the North Caucasian Republic, or the Mountain Republic for short (Lak’oba 1998, pp. 89--90). In this way, the

majority of members of the political representative body of the Abkhaz, the Abkhaz People’s Council (APC), took

an apparent opportunity to be rid of both Russia and Georgia and return to the ethno-cultural roots of their people.

In April and May 1918, a short-lived Soviet regime existed in Abkhazia (or at least in Sukhum(i)).

On June 8, 1918, a delegation of the APC that was in Tbilisi for talks with the Georgian government signed a

treaty of union with Georgia. Abkhaz historians claim that the treaty was invalid because the delegation had not

been empowered to sign it. Ostensibly in order to prevent the possible entry into Abkhazia of Turkish, White

Russian, or Bolshevik forces, the Georgian government deployed troops along the coastal strip of Abkhazia.

Although most Abkhaz regarded these troops as a force of occupation and abuses were committed against the

civilian population, Abkhaz political and cultural activity was not suppressed. In fact, important new developments

occurred in Abkhaz cultural life: Samson Chanba established an Abkhaz theater and the first newspaper in

Abkhaz (Apsny) appeared under the editorship of Dyrmit Gulia (Pachulina 1976, pp. 31—2).

The Georgian government repeatedly expressed a willingness in principle to allow for some kind of autonomy for

Abkhazia within Georgia, and the Georgian Constitution of 1921 included a vague clause making provision for

such autonomy in accordance with future legislation. That legislation was never adopted because before

agreement could be reached on the matter with the (new) APC the Red Army invaded Georgia and Abkhazia,

opening the era of Soviet rule.

4) The early Soviet period (1921—1936)

The period 1918—1921 has positive connotations for Georgian nationalists and negative ones for their Abkhaz

counterparts. For the early Soviet period the position is exactly the opposite. Following the entry into Sukhum(i) of

the Ninth Red Army in March 1921, Abkhazia was declared a Soviet Socialist Republic—that is, a full Union

Republic, separate from and co-equal in status with Georgia. While for the Georgians the imposition of the Soviet

regime meant the loss of precious independence, for the Abkhaz it represented if not independence (ultimate

power resided in Moscow) then at least a much greater degree of autonomy than they had enjoyed since 1810.

Moreover, predominantly Menshevik Georgia suffered much more intense repression than Abkhazia with its

strong indigenous Bolshevik movement. Up to 10,000 people were executed following an attempted Georgian

nationalist uprising in 1924.

Nevertheless, the formal status of Abkhazia within the Soviet Union was reduced by stages to a level more in

keeping with its small size. In December 1921, the Abkhaz Bolsheviks who governed Abkhazia concluded, at the

urging of Moscow, a “special union treaty” with Georgia. Under the terms of this treaty, Abkhazia was no longer

separate from Georgia, but it remained a Union Republic with the autonomy corresponding to that status. In 1925

Abkhazia was able to adopt its own constitution.

The 1920s brought further cultural progress for the Abkhaz. An Abkhaz Scholarly Society was established in 1922

to study the history and customs of Abkhazia. In 1924 this society organized in Sukhum(i) the first congress for

regional studies of the Black Sea coast and western Caucasus, attended by 70 delegates from Abkhazia and 105

delegates form other parts of the region. The final session, held under the ancient lime tree in the village of

Lykhny, a sacred gathering place for the Abkhaz, was attended by 3,000 people from all over Abkhazia. Ancient

religious symbolism was thereby used to consolidate a modern national consciousness.

Another noteworthy development was the creation in Sukhum(i) in 1925 of the Academy of Abkhaz Language and

Literature, the first president of which was the Abkhaz educator and People’s Commissar of Education of

Abkhazia A. M. Chochua. A key role in establishing this academy was played by the prominent Soviet philologist

Academician Nikolai Marr,2 who had a strong interest in the languages of the Caucasus in general and in the

Abkhaz language in particular (Pachulina 1976, pp. 32—3). In 1930 the academy was transformed into the

Abkhaz Institute of Language, Literature, and History of the Academy of Sciences of the Georgian Soviet Socialist

Republic.3 In the 1980s this institute was to serve as an incubator of the Abkhaz nationalist movement, whose

leader Vladislav Ardzinba was its director for a time.

In 1931, Abkhazia was reduced to the status of an Autonomous Republic within Georgia. In several Abkhaz

villages there were mass protests against the abolition of the Union Republic, and also against forced

collectivization. Although Lavrenti Beria, as head of the Georgian OGPU, mobilized a secret police detachment to

suppress the protests, concessions were promised and the protests brought to an end without bloodshed. The

incumbent Abkhaz leadership headed by Nest’or Lak’oba, who remained in office for another five years, retained

substantial de facto autonomy. By referring to the special conditions prevailing in Abkhazia, they were able to halt

collectivization, protect Abkhazia from mass repression, and even distribute financial allowances to Abkhaz

princes and nobles (Lak’oba 1998, pp. 94--5). The tranquility of Abkhazia presented a remarkable contrast with

the upheavals in the rest of the Soviet Union during these years.

5) The period of the Stalin--Beria terror (December 1936—1953)

The idyll came to an abrupt end in December 1936, when Beria—by this time Communist Party secretary for the

whole South Caucasus—summoned Lak’oba to Tbilisi. Beria acquainted Lak’oba with a plan to resettle peasants

from western Georgia in Abkhazia. Lak’oba refused to implement the plan. The next day Lak’oba died under

mysterious circumstances; the condition of the corpse returned to his family suggested that he had been

poisoned, perhaps by Beria personally (Lak’oba 1998, p. 95).

Thus began a period marked by the de facto elimination of Abkhaz autonomy, a reign of terror in which most of

the Abkhaz political and intellectual elite perished, and the forcible Georgianization of Abkhazia and of the

Abkhaz. Georgianization took two main forms. First, more Georgians were settled in Abkhazia, shifting the ethno-

demographic balance further against the Abkhaz and breaking up remaining contiguous areas of Abkhaz

habitation. Second, public use of the Abkhaz language was progressively restricted: Georgian place names

replaced Abkhaz ones; Abkhaz writing, based since 1926 on the Latin alphabet, was switched to a version of

Georgian script; radio broadcasting in Abkhaz ceased; and after the war Abkhaz was replaced by Georgian as the

language of instruction in schools. The last of these measures left particularly painful memories in the minds of

the generation of Abkhaz growing up at that time, for they were beaten if they spoke their native language and

were forced to cope with a language of which they had no previous knowledge.

Research in Communist Party archives has shown that in implementing the policy of Georgianization Georgian

bureaucrats in Abkhazia acted in general accordance with the directives of the central leadership in Moscow

(Lezhava 1997, pp. 116—61). Georgianization in Abkhazia was merely the local application of a much broader

policy aimed at the assimilation of ethnic minorities in all the Union Republics. True, the Georgian bureaucrats

may have gone even further than they were required to. Thus, their instructions stipulated that teaching was no

longer to be carried out in local minority languages like Abkhaz, but did not prohibit the teaching of such

languages as special subjects. This loophole was not exploited: teaching of as well as in Abkhaz was suppressed.

Nevertheless, responsibility lay primarily with Moscow, not Tbilisi. This, however, is not how Abkhaz tended to

interpret the matter. They were inclined to blame “the Georgians.” A number of reasons can be suggested for this:

the Georgian origin of Stalin and Beria, the simple fact that they were being subjected to Georgianization not

Russification, and their positive experience in the preceding period, which predisposed them against blaming the

Soviet system as such.

The bitterness against Georgians that originated in the late 1940s and early 1950s is an important factor

underlying the escalation of the Abkhaz-Georgian conflict in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

6) The post-Stalin period (1953—1985)

Although a superficial appearance of interethnic harmony was maintained in the post-Stalin period, in fact there

was constant latent and intermittent open tension in Abkhaz-Georgian relations at all levels—within the ruling

party-state bureaucracy in Abkhazia, in cultural and educational institutions, and among ordinary people.

Indicative of the atmosphere was the fact that at public meetings the audience would often cheer or hiss

speakers, depending on which language they chose to use.4 The tension took on open expression during the

waves of popular Abkhaz protest that occurred roughly every decade: in 1957, in 1965 and 1967, in 1978, and

culminating in the first violent interethnic clashes in 1989.

Besides these intermittent bursts of popular protest, numerous attempts were made to protest through official

bureaucratic channels. Petitions setting out Abkhaz grievances against the Georgian leadership flowed in an

unending stream from groups of Abkhaz intellectuals to top party and state officials in Moscow.5 If the official

concerned happened to sympathize with the Abkhaz, as some did, he might send inspectors to Abkhazia to check

the accuracy of the allegations on the spot, and as a result pressure might be exerted on the party leaders in

Tbilisi to improve the treatment of the Abkhaz. If the official was not sympathetic, he would follow the standard

Soviet bureaucratic practice of forwarding complaints to the very authority against whom the complaint was

directed—in this case, to the Georgian leaders themselves. The petitioners were then liable to be hauled over the

coals for “slander.”

The situation of the Abkhaz in the post-Stalin period was never as bad as in the late Stalin period but never as

good as in the early Soviet period. The worst persecutions of the Abkhaz did not recur, but neither did they regain

the degree of autonomy they had enjoyed de jure up to 1931 or de facto up to 1936. Within this broad

intermediate range, however, there were significant changes over time. In particular, the year 1978 marked a

major turning point. From 1953 until 1978, the Georgian leadership in Tbilisi remained in firm control of Abkhazia

and made only token concessions to Abkhaz interests. Educational and media provision in the Abkhaz language

was on a very small scale. Even the question of restoring original Abkhaz place names that had been

Georgianized under Stalin remained unresolved. After 1978, by contrast, the Abkhaz began to reacquire real

autonomy, although this tendency encountered strong resistance both from a large part of the Georgian political

and cultural elite in Tbilisi and from discontented Georgians in Abkhazia itself. It was at this period that the

Abkhaz won such prized concessions as television broadcasting in Abkhaz and “their own” university—the

Abkhaz State University, formed on the base of the Sukhum(i) Pedagogical Institute. This period also saw a

steady rise in the share of management and government positions in Abkhazia that were occupied by ethnic

Abkhaz, to a point well beyond the proportion of Abkhaz in the total population of the region, giving rise to fears

among local Georgians of the emergence of an “ethnocratic regime.”

What happened in 1978 to bring about this shift was the third post-Stalin wave of popular protest for Abkhaz

rights, led by a section of the Abkhaz cultural intelligentsia. The first two waves of protest (in 1957 and in 1965—

1967) had yielded minimal results,6 but in 1978 Eduard Shevardnadze, at that time party leader in Georgia,

responded to the protests by publicly acknowledging the need to correct nationalities policy in Abkhazia. He

promised the protestors that all their demands would be granted except for one—namely, the demand that

Abkhazia be transferred from Georgia to the Russian Federation. And on the whole Shevardnadze kept his

promise. Only later did he backtrack somewhat, when “Abkhazization” gave rise to counter-protests by ethnic

Georgians in Abkhazia (see below). It should be noted that in 1978 there were also Georgian nationalist protests

in Tbilisi against a move by Moscow to deprive the Georgian language of its constitutional status; Shevardnadze

responded in a conciliatory manner to these protests too and persuaded the central leadership to concede. So

both Abkhaz and Georgians had reason to appreciate him.

Abkhaz discontent was aroused not only by substantive grievances but also by ostensibly scholarly disputes in

the field of ethnic history. They were upset by the appearance in the press of articles in which Georgian historians

claimed either that the Abkhaz were just another regional variety of Georgians (like the Megrels or Svans) or—on

the contrary—that they were “newcomers” to Georgia who originated to the north of the Great Caucasus Range,

implying that they were merely “guests” on Georgian land. (Some Georgian historians take the same view of the

Ossets. The difference is that the Ossets really did migrate to Georgia from the northern slopes.) In 1979, on

Shevardnadze’s initiative, a series of meetings was initiated between Georgian and Abkhaz historians in

Borzhomi to encourage joint research and the development of a common historical narrative. Although these

meetings did lead to the publication of several works on Abkhaz-Georgian relations, they did not achieve the goal

set for them. The process remained dependent on the personal support of Shevardnadze, and when Gorbachev

called him to Moscow in 1985 to become Soviet foreign minister the meetings came to a halt. Lezhava believes

that Shevardnadze might have managed to prevent escalation of the Abkhaz-Georgian conflict had be been

allowed to remain in Georgia through the post-Soviet transition (Lezhava 1997, p. 217).

The post-1978 shift in the balance of ethnic power in Abkhazia led to a counter-reaction from local ethnic

Georgians, who began to resort to the same means of pressure that had been used to such good effect by the

Abkhaz. In 1980, a petition signed by no fewer than 338 “representatives of the Georgian population” was sent to

Shevardnadze and Brezhnev, claiming that the new “anti-Georgian policy” had resulted in Abkhaz, many of them

corrupt, occupying two thirds of all the nomenklatura positions in Abkhazia. In some places, popular protests by

ethnic Georgians led to the replacement of newly installed Abkhaz local officials or managers by Georgians.

There were also instances of individuals being physically assaulted apparently for ethnopolitical motives, although

such cases were always publicly tried as non-political offenses (Lezhava 1997, pp. 220—25).

7) The period of perestroika and post-Soviet transition (1986—August 1992)

Perestroika in Abkhazia

The ethnic tensions that the Soviet political system in its pre-perestroika form had been able to muffle and contain

(though not resolve) developed more freely and openly under the liberalized conditions of Gorbachev’s

perestroika, especially in its second stage (from 1988 onward). Abkhaz and Georgian nationalist organizations

were established, and massive demonstrations with ethnopolitical slogans became commonplace.

In December 1988 the Popular Forum of Abkhazia “Aidgylara” (the Abkhaz word for “unification”) was set up and

soon became the main organizational vehicle of Abkhaz nationalism, although it brought together not only Abkhaz

organizations but also organizations of Russians, Armenians, and other non-Georgian (and mainly Russian-

speaking) groups. Its program demanded a Republic of Abkhazia, fully separate from Georgia, within a renewed

Soviet federation. This goal was directly opposed to the main aim of all Georgian nationalist parties, which was a

united Georgia including Abkhazia outside the Soviet Union.7

On March 18, 1989, with the support of Abkhaz party and government officials, “Aidgylara” held its first mass

public meeting in the village of Lykhny, the traditional sacred gathering place of the Abkhaz people. A week later,

on March 25, in response to the Lykhny meeting, Georgian nationalist organizations convened a mass public

meeting of ethnic Georgians in Sukhum(i). Each meeting by one side provoked a counter-meeting by the other

side. The increasingly tense though as yet non-violent confrontation in Abkhazia also served to heighten

nationalist agitation in Georgia as a whole. One of the main demands at the mass Georgian nationalist

demonstration in Tbilisi on April 9, which attracted attention throughout the Soviet Union and the world when its

participants were gassed and beaten by shovels wielded by troops under the command of General Rodionov, was

that Abkhazia should remain within Georgia.

The confrontation could not be expected to continue for long as such a level of intensity without spilling over into

violence. The first violent clash between small groups of Georgians and Abkhaz occurred in Gagra as early as

March 28 (Lezhava 1997, p. 247). Large-scale violence, however, did not erupt until mid-July.

The events of July 1989

Fighting broke out in Sukhum(i) on July 15. The issue that triggered the clashes was whether the Georgian-

language sector of the Abkhaz State University, which consisted of three sectors using Abkhaz, Georgian, and

Russian, respectively, should be turned into a branch of Tbilisi State University (TSU).8 This seems at first sight a

purely administrative question of secondary importance, for it did not affect the opportunity to study in any of the

three languages. Many Abkhaz, however, feared that the new Georgian-language institution would divert funds

from “their” Abkhaz State University and prove to be the first step toward closing it down. Live reporting in the

media, and especially on television, may have further inflamed and spread the conflict (Lezhava 1997, p. 286).

The fighting began when Abkhaz protestors who were laying siege to a building where entrance examinations

were being held for the TSU branch found themselves in turn surrounded by Georgian counter-protestors. At this

site the fighting did not involve weapons. However, as it spread into the neighboring district and drew in more

people, self-made weapons made their appearance: in particular, a wooden fence round a local park was pulled

apart and used to make sharpened sticks. When news of the fighting reached other parts of Georgia, militias

connected to Georgian nationalist organizations began to make their way into Abkhazia. What began as

unorganized brawling between more or less equally matched crowds of local men started to acquire the character

of a systematic pogrom conducted by large and well-armed Georgian forces, mostly from outside Abkhazia,

against an almost defenseless Abkhaz population. Firearms were distributed to Georgian crowds, while Abkhaz

passengers were pulled off buses and beaten up or killed. While there were a considerable number of deaths and

injuries, the intervention of interior ministry troops, flown into Abkhazia from Russia by the central Soviet

authorities, succeeded in restoring order and saving many lives, especially by blocking the advance into Abkhazia

of more Georgian fighters.9 “Aidgylara” declared that what had taken place was “a planned action to annihilate

the Abkhaz people” (Lezhava 1997, p. 283).

August 1989 – December 1991

In the aftermath of the traumatic events of July 1989, the conflict returned for a time to the level of non-violent

political confrontation. On August 25, the Supreme Soviet of Abkhazia (SSA) adopted a declaration of state

sovereignty, which the Supreme Soviet of Georgia declared invalid the next day. The declaration brought to a

head a growing ethnopolitical division within the Abkhazian legislature, and on August 31 the dissenting minority,

consisting mainly but not solely of ethnic Georgian deputies (with some Georgian deputies remaining in

Sukhum(i)), reconvened in the Georgian Institute of Subtropical Agriculture in Tbilisi and declared itself the “real”

Supreme Soviet of Abkhazia. Henceforth two separate and opposed bodies, one in Sukhum(i) and the other in

exile in Tbilisi, would lay claim to the same title.

Another significant development at about the same time was the formation of an alliance of ethnopolitical

movements called initially the Confederation of Mountain Peoples of the Caucasus. (The word “mountain” was

later dropped to allow movements of “non-mountain” peoples to join.) Although “Aidgylara” was the only member

organization not based in the North Caucasus, the confederation set up its headquarters in Sukhum(i) and also

held its first congress there, on August 26. The congress adopted a declaration of solidarity with the Abkhaz

nationalist cause.10 At least some of its supporters conceived of the confederation as a possible precursor to a

new Mountain Republic of the kind that existed in 1917—1918. Abkhazia would be crucial to such a state as its

sole outlet to the open sea. For the Abkhaz national movement, membership in the confederation represented a

reorientation away from Georgia and toward renewed community with ethno-cultural kin in the North Caucasus.

The confederation also represented a potential source of support in the event of armed conflict with Georgia (and

when war did come such support was indeed forthcoming). By hosting the congress and demonstrating to Tbilisi

that it had outside support, “Aidgylara” hoped to deter a Georgian invasion.

On November 14, 1990, the former Georgian nationalist dissident Zviad Gamsakhurdia became chairman of the

Supreme Soviet of Georgia. (He won election as president of Georgia six months later—on May 26, 1991.) In

December 1990 Vladislav Ardzinba was elected chairman of the Supreme Soviet of Abkhazia in Sukhum(i).11

Between October and December 1991 new elections to the Supreme Soviet of Abkhazia in Sukhum(i) took place

in several rounds. Gamsakhurdia and Ardzinba had come to a “gentlemen’s agreement” concerning the electoral

system to be employed in these elections, which was based on ethnically defined territorial constituencies in

accordance with pre-assigned ethnic quotas. This meant that in 28 constituencies only Abkhaz candidates could

stand for election, in 26 only Georgians, and in the remaining 11 only members of third ethnic groups (Russians,

Armenians, etc.). This system, which greatly restricted the real choices open to voters, was apparently acceptable

to both sides of the conflict because each side believed that it would be able to form a majority by allying with

third-group deputies (Lezhava 1997, p. 328).

As it turned out, the Abkhaz side was right and the Georgian side wrong in this expectation. A few “third group”

deputies took the Georgian side, but most supported the Abkhaz. One factor in this choice of orientation may

have been that few members of “third” groups in Abkhazia had (or wanted to acquire) a good knowledge of

Georgian, so they did not welcome inclusion in a Georgian state with Georgian as the sole state language. True,

few of them knew Abkhaz either, but Russian—still used by everyone as a lingua franca—would almost certainly

retain high status in an independent Abkhazia.12

The final months before the war

The Soviet Union, already much weakened, was formally dissolved at the end of 1991. This event propelled the

Georgian-Abkhaz conflict into its final prewar phase.

On the juridical level, there was a competitive struggle to fill the “legal vacuum” created by abolition of the Soviet

Union. This took the form of a “war of constitutions” between the parliaments in Tbilisi and Sukhum(i). In February

1992 the Supreme Soviet of Georgia voted to reinstate the constitution that the independent Georgian republic

had adopted in 1921. In response, the Supreme Soviet of Abkhazia in Sukhum(i) voted on July 23 (three weeks

before the outbreak of war) to reinstate the constitution that the Abkhazian Soviet Socialist Republic had adopted

in 1925. These steps reflected a highly formalistic approach to politics on both sides, one that took no account of

changes that had occurred since the 1920s. Each of the reinstated constitutions was regarded as unacceptable

by the other side: the Georgian constitution of 1921 allowed for the autonomy of Abkhazia in only the vaguest of

terms, while the Abkhazian constitution of 1925 affirmed the separate and equal status of Abkhazia as a Soviet

Union Republic.

At the same time, there was a more down-to-earth struggle for control over the formerly Soviet “power structures”

on Abkhazian territory. The separation of Abkhazian economic institutions from their Georgian counterparts had

begun in the last few months of 1991. For example, the presidium of the Supreme Soviet of Abkhazia decreed on

August 30, 1991 that legislation of the Republic of Georgia pertaining to banking did not apply to Abkhazia, and in

October 1991 it established a customs service and a State Committee for Foreign Economic and Inter-Republican

Ties under its own control. However, only at the end of 1991, after the formal dissolution of the Soviet Union, was

this process extended from the economic to the military and security spheres. On December 29, 1991, four days

after Gorbachev resigned as the first and last Soviet president, the presidium of the Supreme Soviet of Abkhazia

passed a resolution claiming possession and control of all formerly Soviet military forces (including naval forces,

civil defense, border troops, and internal troops) deployed in Abkhazia. In February 1992, a commission was set

up to register citizens of Abkhazia, and strict restrictions were imposed on the migration to Abkhazia of people

from other parts of Georgia. On March 5, 1992, a law was adopted that re-subordinated other bodies of state

administration, including the Security Committee and the State Property Committee, to the Supreme Soviet of

Abkhazia (Zhorzholiani et al. 1994, p. 37). A corresponding institutional structure was formed, including the

introduction of a system of compulsory military service modeled on its Soviet counterpart. All these measures

pointed to a determined effort by the Ardzinba leadership to acquire a significant military capability (Chervonnaya

1995, pp. 75—84).

Thus, in the course of these first few post-Soviet months the secession of Abkhazia from Georgia moved beyond

verbal declarations into the sphere of real state-building. The process proceeded in a fairly smooth manner, with

no more than a few minor skirmishes between Abkhaz and Georgian police officers.

It should be borne in mind that the same period witnessed the intra-Georgian civil war between the supporters

and opponents of Gamsakhurdia (December 1991 – January 1992). Power in Tbilisi was taken by a Military

Council, later reconstituted as a State Council, which in March 1992 invited Shevardnadze back to the country to

become its chairman. The intra-Georgian civil war continued in the form of fighting between the new regime and

“Zviadista” insurgents in Megrelia, Gamsakhurdia’s home region in western Georgia. It was still in progress when

Abkhazia was invaded.

SECTION II

THE DECISION FOR WAR

Why did Shevardnadze and his colleagues on the State Council of Georgia decide to send military forces into

Abkhazia on August 14, 1992? I shall consider first the probable aim of the operation, then why it was launched at

this particular point in time, and finally whether it could have been prevented by diplomatic means.

Georgia’s war aims

According to two versions of Georgia’s war aims disseminated by the Georgian side, the intended purpose of the

invasion was actually more limited than it appeared to be in light of subsequent events. In one version, presented

later by Shevardnadze in a report to the Georgian parliament, the goal of the operation was to “ensure security of

movement along the railroad connecting Russia with Georgia and Armenia [which passes through Abkhazia], the

security of the main highways, and the security of objects of strategic importance” (Zhorzholiani et al. 1994, pp. 38

—9). As a rationale this was not at all plausible: first, armed train robberies had occurred in western Georgia but

not on Abkhazian territory; and second, no attempt had been made to improve security along lines of

communication in cooperation with the authorities in Sukhum(i).

The second version was circulated unofficially and seems designed to whitewash Shevardnadze at the expense

of other members of the State Council. It claims that Shevardnadze had intended to conduct a strictly limited

operation to free Georgian officials who had been abducted by Zviadista (i.e., pro-Gamsakhurdia) insurgents in

western Georgia and were being held somewhere in the Gali district in southern Abkhazia. Shevardnadze had

allegedly telephoned Ardzinba to forewarn him of the operation and reassure him that its aims were limited;

Ardzinba, for his part, denied that he received any such telephone call, nor is it clear whether the hostages were

really being held inside Abkhazia. Unfortunately, the story continues, Georgian defense minister Tengiz Kitovani,

who was commanding the operation, had ignored clear instructions from Shevardnadze and proceeded straight to

Sukhum(i) to suppress the secessionist regime, thereby covering himself with patriotic glory. Shevardnadze had

not yet had time to consolidate his position in Tbilisi and so was unable to exert effective control over his unruly

generals.

The character of the military force mobilized for the operation (as described, for instance, in Billingsley 1998)

immediately puts the lie to both these versions of events. The column of tanks, armored vehicles, and artillery that

crossed the River Inguri into Abkhazia at dawn on August 14 was not the sort of force needed to find and free

hostages or to protect lines of communication. Moreover, the thrust north along the coast road to Sukhum(i) was

only one prong of a two-pronged operation. Equally important was the simultaneous amphibious landing near

Gagra in the north of Abkhazia, which cannot possibly have been directed against train robbers or Zviadistas.

It makes more sense to view the operation as an attempted blitzkrieg to restore Georgian control over most or all

of Abkhazia before the poorly prepared Abkhaz could organize effective resistance. The landing force in the north

was to close the corridor between the sea and the mountains, which at Gagra is only a kilometer wide, so that

supplies and reinforcements would not (or so they imagined) be able to reach the Abkhaz forces from Russia, and

then move south to join up with the northbound column. Like so many other blitzkriegs in history, this one got

bogged down, giving the adversary a chance to organize and turn the blitzkrieg into a war of attrition. The

assumption that reinforcements could enter Abkhazia only along the coastal strip proved mistaken: volunteers

from the North Caucasus came through the high mountain passes.

It seems that Kitovani’s conduct of the operation did thwart Shevardnadze’s intentions in one vital respect.

Shevardnadze did hope to spare Sukhum(i) the ravages of war. His instructions, which assumed that Georgian

forces would approach the city simultaneously from the south and from the north, were that they should halt on

the outskirts, surround Sukhum(i) but not enter or bombard it. An acceptable settlement would then be negotiated

from a position of strength. By bringing the forces coming from the south into Sukhum(i), Kitovani was acting

against these instructions, but he had a military rationale for so doing. Unexpectedly strong Abkhaz resistance

had held up the forces coming from the north, so the original plan to complete the operation with the encirclement

of Sukhum(i) was no longer feasible.

Why August 1992?

It is widely held that the Georgian military intervention should be understood in the context of the “war of

constitutions”—specifically, as a reaction to the reinstatement of the Abkhazian constitution of 1925. However, it is

hard to see why this document should have been any more objectionable to Georgian nationalists than the

Declaration of State Sovereignty that the Abkhazian parliament had adopted nearly two years before (on August

25, 1990). Both documents rejected Abkhazia’s incorporation into Georgia.13

In my opinion, a much more important factor was the capture by the secessionist authorities in Sukhum(i) of

control over the formerly Soviet “power structures” on Abkhazian territory. The rapid build-up of an independent

Abkhazian military capability provided the Georgian leadership with a strong incentive to act against the newborn

state without too long a delay, while they still had (or thought they had) decisive military superiority.

Nevertheless, there had apparently been no noticeable rise in the level of tension in Abkhazia during the period of

the immediate run-up to war. No special preparations had been made to counter an invading Georgian force, and

Kitovani’s column was able to proceed completely unimpeded along the main road, meeting resistance for the first

time only a few kilometers to the southeast of Sukhum(i).14 On the day of the invasion, the Supreme Soviet of

Abkhazia was scheduled to meet to discuss a draft treaty of union between Abkhazia and Georgia. It is therefore

clear that while the Abkhaz leadership can hardly have been unaware that there was a general military threat from

Georgia, they had no expectation of its realization in the near future. We may presume that they viewed the “war

of constitutions” as a way of establishing initial positions for subsequent bargaining rather than as a prelude to

real war. They may have been misled by the conciliatory stance towards the Abkhaz that Shevardnadze had

adopted in his earlier incarnation as Georgian party secretary.15

Shevardnadze had returned to Georgia, at the invitation of the junta that had overthrown Gamsakhurdia, in March

1992—only five months earlier. The initiative for the Abkhazian operation may well have come from

Shevardnadze’s military colleagues, especially Kitovani and Ioseliani, and Shevardnadze may not have yet felt

himself in a strong enough position to oppose their wishes. Whether but for this consideration Shevardnadze

would have vetoed the invasion is hard to judge. His instructions that Georgian forces were not to enter Sukhum(i)

suggest that he may have had serious misgivings. Later, moreover, having achieved a stronger position, he did

resist strong pressure for a second invasion of Abkhazia—though this time round, of course, he had the benefit of

hindsight.

On the other hand, Shevardnadze was perhaps not too unwilling to be persuaded by his colleagues. Although the

Abkhazian operation was not a direct consequence of the war against the Zviadists in neighboring Megrelia, it

may well have been seen as a logical next step in the restoration of Georgia’s territorial integrity under the new

regime. Probably—and here the condescending Georgian view of the Abkhaz as a small and backward people no

doubt played a part—none of the Georgian leaders anticipated that it would be a costly, prolonged, or indeed

particularly difficult operation. Shevardnadze may even have seen a short and successful war against the

secessionist regime in Sukhum(i) as a quick means of consolidating his personal authority.

Another motive for invading Abkhazia may have been to stabilize the domestic political situation by uniting

Georgians against a common enemy. In particular, Shevardnadze may have seen the campaign against the

Abkhaz as a way of ending the Zviadista uprising in Megrelia.

Could war have been prevented?

If this analysis of the prewar situation in Abkhazia is correct, it follows that war might have been prevented by

sufficiently active preventive diplomacy on the part of Russia and/or the West. A starting point for negotiations

could have been the simultaneous suspension of Abkhazia’s return to the constitution of 1925 and Georgia’s

return to the constitution of 1921. It is worth noting that Shevardnadze was not personally associated with the

latter step, which was taken the month before he came back to Georgia.

While it seems that Russia was not diplomatically engaged in the Georgian-Abkhaz conflict in the immediate

prewar period, prompt action was taken following the outbreak of hostilities. On September 3, less than three

weeks after the war began, President Yeltsin convened negotiations in Moscow between Shevardnadze and

Ardzinba, with the participation also of leaders of the republics, territories, and provinces of the Russian North

Caucasus.16 At this meeting Yeltsin, backed up by the North Caucasus leaders, showed himself willing to exert

strong pressure on the parties, especially on Ardzinba. This suggests that had the Russian government been

aware that war was imminent in Abkhazia it might have tried to avert it. On the other hand, there is some

circumstantial evidence that Yeltsin may have known of the Georgian invasion in advance or even been complicit

in allowing it to happen.

Most effective of all might have been a timely initiative by the United States and/or its European allies, or a

combined Western-Russian initiative, with the West primarily responsible for dealing with Georgia and Russia

primarily responsible for dealing with Abkhazia. One of the main reasons, if not the main reason, why

Shevardnadze was invited in early 1992 to return to Georgia to chair the State Council was his very positive

image in the West: it was hoped that he would be able to attract considerable Western political, economic, and

humanitarian support (and so he did). This gave Western countries powerful means of influencing the decisions of

the Georgian leadership. By recognizing Georgia and admitting it to membership in the IMF, the World Bank, and

the UN, all without preconditions of any kind, they squandered the opportunity.

The apparent absence of either Russian or Western attempts at preventive diplomacy during the crucial eight

months between the dissolution of the USSR and the outbreak of hostilities is hard to explain except simply as the

result of lack of attention to the Georgian-Abkhazian problem. The strongly destabilizing impact of the end of the

Soviet Union upon an already tense situation should have been predictable. Presumably both Russian and

Western diplomats and politicians were suffering from a severe case of issue overload at this time: Abkhazia was

but one of a dozen or so hot spots in the former Soviet Union simultaneously requiring urgent preventive action,

and by no means the most important from the point of view of international security (compared, say, with Crimea

or the Baltic).

Why Shevardnadze and not Gamsakhurdia?

It may seem anomalous that the invasion of Abkhazia took place under the aegis of the “liberal” Shevardnadze,

rather than under that of the “extreme nationalist” Gamsakhurdia. If “even” Gamsakhurdia was able to reach a

mutual understanding with Ardzinba and his colleagues, then why should this have been beyond the ability of the

former Soviet foreign minister, renowned for his role in bringing a much bigger cold war to a safe end?

A large part of the answer lies in the fact that by the time Shevardnadze returned to Tbilisi in March 1992 the

situation in Abkhazia had already become considerably worse from the Georgian point of view than it had been

under Gamsakhurdia. In particular, the separatist regime was by then well on the way to acquiring a military

capability. Moreover, in 1992 Shevardnadze was not yet in a position to defy the views of his colleagues on the

State Council, a number of whom were no less extreme Georgian nationalists than Gamsakhurdia. It is also

necessary to bear in mind the limits of Shevardnadze’s “liberalism”: while he always showed a relatively tolerant

and sensitive attitude towards ethnic minorities, and advocated a civic rather than ethnic version of nationalism,

he was never willing to contemplate any concession when territorial integrity was at stake. In 1992 Abkhazia

clearly represented a very serious threat to Georgia’s territorial integrity; in previous years that threat had been

only a potential one.

Would Gamsakhurdia have intervened militarily in Abkhazia had he stayed in power longer? Almost certainly, yes.

Gamsakhurdia saw Georgia’s territorial integrity at risk in all the areas inhabited by ethnic minorities, including

Ajaria and the areas of Armenian and Azerbaijani settlement in the south as well as Abkhazia and South Ossetia

in the north. His first priority was South Ossetia and he had the good sense not to get into more than one war at a

time; this to a large extent explains why he was willing to come to an understanding with Ardzinba. But Abkhazia’s

turn would surely have come.

SECTION III

PERCEPTIONS AND CALCULATIONS

Persistent failures of perception and calculation on both sides greatly contributed to the escalation of the conflict

and the outbreak of war.

On the Georgian side, the main perceptual failure was a tendency to underestimate the Abkhaz as an

independent and potentially powerful actor with strong and deeply rooted fears and grievances. Corresponding to

this tendency was a characteristic preoccupation of Georgians with the conflict between Russia and Georgia over

Abkhazia, obscuring their view of the specifically Abkhaz-Georgian dimension of the conflict. Even many highly

educated and sophisticated Georgians are remarkably ignorant of the history and culture of the Abkhaz.

One institution that does valuable work to disseminate knowledge of the Abkhaz among Georgians is the House

of the Caucasus in Tbilisi. On my visit I was told that they run classes on the Abkhaz language, attended mainly

by young Georgian war refugees from Sukhum(i). One of these young Georgians expressed regret that he and

his friends had developed a serious interest in Abkhaz language and culture only after the war; if they had taken

the same interest earlier, there might have been no war and they would still be living in Sukhum(i).

The Abkhaz had the psychological traits typical of a small people scarred by painful historical and—for the older

generation—personal memories. Many Abkhaz who as politically active adults supported the secessionist

movement could recall being beaten as children by Georgian teachers for speaking their native tongue. Thus, in

1985 three Abkhaz writers wrote of “the times when Abkhaz children, choking with tears, used to repeat Georgian

words they could not understand under the cudgel of Beria’s ‘educators.’ … We would like to forget that period,

but we cannot… In Abkhazia there live and constantly reminisce people who took part in closing down Abkhaz

schools” (Lak’oba 1998, p. 101).

There is also a historically grounded fear that the Abkhaz might easily follow their Ubykh neighbors into extinction,

whether through forced assimilation as under Stalin or through massacre and deportation as under the tsars.

Awareness among the Abkhaz of the fate of the Ubykh was heightened by the publication of Last of the Departed,

a historical novel by Bagrat Shynkwba about the Ubykh deportation (Hewitt and Khiba 1998, p. 169).

Under the “normal” conditions of the post-Stalin period, the fear of a genocidal Georgian reaction to Abkhaz

rebellion could in fact serve as a motive for caution, since the basic physical and cultural survival of the Abkhaz

would be ensured by Moscow as long as they did not make too much trouble. Such, for instance, was the attitude

expressed by the local party leader V. M. Khintba at a Communist Party meeting in Abkhazia in February 1978.

Khintba upbraided activist Abkhaz intellectuals (“provocateurs,” as he called them) for inciting popular unrest: “I

am the secretary of the Abkhaz provincial committee of this people, of my beloved people… In 1957 and 1967

[during previous waves of unrest] a Damocles’ sword hung over us… You are infected with nationalism… So here

we are, Abkhaz, displaying our agitation and discontent. But we are few. What will happen if others, more

numerous than we, rise up in similar agitation? For they too have their pride. It is not just one people that is

discontented” (Abkhazskie pis’ma 1994, pp. 250—51).

But as the prospect drew nearer of the collapse of the familiar political environment of the Soviet Union and of the

loss of the protective umbrella of “the Center,” so did the old rationale for caution lose its force. In July 1989, the

assault of the Georgian nationalist militias had been halted by the timely intervention of the Center’s internal

troops. What was in store for the Abkhaz once the Georgians had a strong army of their own and the Soviet Union

was gone? “What way out do we have? Just think about it!”—the newspaper of “Aidgylara” urged its readers on

May 3, 1990 (Hewitt and Khiba 1998, pp. 176—7). The answer was obvious: whatever the risks of secession,

they had to be taken, for the likely alternative was genocide. This fear strengthened the ethnic cohesion of the

Abkhaz in support of the secessionist leadership.

For the benefit of those inclined to doubt the genuineness of historically ingrained Abkhaz fears of genocide,

revived by the insecurity of a disintegrating Soviet Union, the eloquent concluding lines of an open letter to

Gorbachev, written by a delegation of Abkhaz women who in July 1989 had come to Moscow in the vain hope of

meeting with the Soviet leader, are illustrative:

“For you, [Abkhazia] is a resort, a beach; for us, it is a homeland that we are losing. And when your families are

evacuated and the holidaymakers flee, our husbands and children, and we together with them, will with your

blessing lay our bones in this land. Only we don’t know whether anyone will remain to whom you can convey your

lofty sympathy.

You have exhausted our trust, and we, women of Abkhazia, who came to Moscow and were not allowed to meet

with you, were forced to appeal for help to international organizations, to leaders of democratic movements, to

foreign associations of peoples of the Caucasus, and to all people of goodwill not to let the small and proud

Abkhaz people perish before the eyes of the civilized world (Abakhazskie pis’ma 1994, pp. 476--7).”

NOTES

* I would like to thank Professor George Hewitt of the School of Oriental and African Studies of the University of

London for his comments on an earlier draft of this paper.

1. The main city of Abkhazia is called Sukhum in Abkhaz and Sukhumi (or Sokhumi) in Georgian.

2. Marr is best known in the context of Stalin’s attack on his linguistic theories in 1952. Lezhava (1997, pp. 134—

5) draws attention to Marr’s activity as an influential behind-the-scenes patron of Abkhaz culture and defender of

the Abkhaz against Stalin’s repression. He also argues that the polemic between Marr and his opponents was no

mere scholarly dispute but had definite political implications. It concerned not only linguistics but also nationalities

policy as it impinged on the rights of small peoples like the Abkhaz.

3. Initially the institute was named in honor of the Abkhaz national poet D. I. Gulia. Later it was renamed in honor

of Marr. After Marr’s downfall it reverted to its original name.

4. This was mentioned in complaints voiced at the 1978 plenum of the Abkhazian party committee (Abkhazskie

pis’ma).

5. Many such documents have now been published in the volume of “Abkhaz letters” (Abkhazskie pis’ma). Some

petitioners traveled to Moscow to seek audiences with high officials, not always without success. There were even

a few brave souls who sent petitions to Moscow while Stalin was still alive; while their petitions were rejected, they

suffered no further penalty (remarkably enough for the times).

6. Although the protestors did not achieve their goals, they were not severely punished either. For instance,

Abkhaz teachers who had encouraged their students to join the protests were not imprisoned, but simply

transferred to positions where they had less opportunity to influence the younger generation.

7. It was not yet self-evident that the Soviet Union would soon cease to exist. For the founding documents of

“Aidgylara,” see Chapter 2 of Abkhazskii uzel 1995.

8. For documents relating to this dispute, see Chapter 4 of Abkhazskii uzel 1995. For a personal eyewitness

account of the July events, see Popkov 1998 or www.circassianworld.com/Popkov_Facts_Thoughts.html.

9. At Ochamchira local defenders, mostly Abkhaz, managed to hold up a column of vehicles carrying Georgian

fighters headed for Sukhumi until Soviet troops arrived to relieve them. It is worthy of note that local Georgians did

not support the invaders, and some of them helped their Abkhaz neighbors to defend the town.

10. See Abkhazskii uzel 1995, pp. 328—30.

11. According to Lezhava (1997, pp. 323—4), the Georgian deputies who had remained in Sukhumi gave their

support to Ardzinba without realizing how radical he really was, and his election was followed by a shift in

influence from a more moderate to a more radical group of Abkhaz politicians. However, some observers do not

agree with this interpretation.

12. An alternative proposal envisioned a two-chamber legislature with the lower chamber elected on the basis of

purely territorial constituencies and the upper chamber on the basis of ethnically defined constituencies. Such an

arrangement might have given every ethnic bloc effective power of veto, perhaps facilitating resolution of the

conflict. For some reason Gamsakhurdia rejected this proposal.

13. The text of the Declaration of State Sovereignty is in Abkhazskii uzel (1995, pp. 264—7); the text of the

constitution of 1925 is in an appendix to Abkhazskie pis’ma (1994).

14. The first Abkhaz force encountered was a unit of seven internal troops near the village of Okhurei in

Ochamchira district, 30 kilometers from the border. They were disarmed and interned at Gali. The first effective

resistance was offered near the villages of Tamysh and Kindgi, southeast of Sukhum, where by blowing up a

bridge over the River Kwdry the Abkhaz forces held up the rear end of the Georgian column for a few hours

(Shariya 1994, pp. 4—5).

15. According to Anchabadze (1998, p. 138), Shevardnadze’s return to Georgia had raised hopes in Abkhazia for

a more conciliatory Georgian position, but these hopes were soon disappointed. Nevertheless, such hopes may

not have disappeared completely and may help to explain the lack of war preparedness on the Abkhaz side.

16. For a verbatim transcript of the meeting, see Abkhazia: khronika (1992, pp. 208—247).

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Source: CircassianWorld.com