On November 28, 2025, exactly one year will have passed since continuous protest actions began in Georgia. We asked several participants to recall a specific story, episode, or dialogue that had left the deepest impression on them over the past year.
From continuous protest, everyone has their own pivotal, transformative story.
“Watching the process from a window, I realized that inner conviction is everything…”
“The most important thing is the inner belief that you are in the right. If you have that, nothing can take it away from you—you can even be free in prison,” shares Rusa Varshalomidze, one of the active participants in Batumi’s pro-European protests.
Rusa recalls attending one of the trials of political prisoners:
“I don’t remember the exact date, but I went to Tbilisi City Court to attend the trial of 11 detained young men. There was a crowd there that day, and I was glad to see so many people attending the trials of conscience prisoners.
I went to Anatoli Gigauri’s trial. The trial had started. I couldn’t get inside, so I stood nearby and watched through a window on the door. I couldn’t hear anything, but I felt every word Anatoli spoke. He was expressing himself silently. It felt like watching a Charlie Chaplin film. Gigauri was the character, and the judge was cloaked in a robe, sitting there, of course on the bench. I could see the small, mostly empty courtroom, with the accused speaking from the separated area I couldn’t hear his voice, but I felt it.
Soon the trial ended. Our fellow protester, Ia Melitauri, came out frustrated. We attend trials purely for solidarity… That day, I was at Zura Chavchanidze’s trial for the same reason. No one expected him to be released.
I stood by the door, frozen, head down, late as I was. Suddenly, an unknown court officer came and said, ‘Move over there!’ in such a tone that if anyone spoke to me that way, I would not comply. He pulled me forward by the shoulder, and I walked, astonished, but completely calm. I insistently sat on a chair nearby. Then this man started verbally abusing me in ways I couldn’t even imagine. None of it felt real; it didn’t reach me, I just laughed.
Other officers ran toward the noise, but didn’t understand what was happening. This man kept yelling; I sat quietly. Eventually, I realized I had ‘won’ in that moment. Later I found out he was Davit Matiashvili, the head of court officers. I didn’t file a complaint or request footage.
I generalized this experience to the system: protest is suppressed through various methods. My story is so simple I hadn’t told anyone, but the system attacks us, including by manipulating our psychology, through emotional exhaustion. They have studied human reactions and manipulate them. Unfortunately, we sometimes become victims of these manipulations because we are human.
In the court lobby, where there are chairs, I wanted to sit and wait, but the system defined itself as holding power and asserting control. I think this is an expression of personal complexes and old traumas, including childhood traumas, which are then projected onto the whole country…
But the system panics when protesters respond with dance, or when conscience prisoners smile at the judge,” Rusa Varshalomidze explained.
Rusa believes resistance is an epochal period, and without enduring it, a “mature society” cannot emerge:
“If we want to become a healthy society in the long term, we will face an even worse period. We have the resources, but they are individual. If we cannot consolidate them, we will head toward defeat. But if we can unite scattered, individual forces, victory is inevitable,” says Rusa Varshalomidze.
“Do you know what was written on my poster?”
Tsabunia Vartagava, a young activist from Zugdidi, recalls the April 9, 2025 protest in her city. Local Georgian Dream authorities in Zugdidi and other cities were met by citizens with protest messages at the April 9 memorial.
“I remember so many stories from continuous protests in Zugdidi: fines, arrests, when someone tried to detain our fellow protester and so many of us surrounded them that they couldn’t take anyone. But the most vivid memory is April 9 the day I saw the full extent of local police power if they received orders,” she recounts.
“Until the last moment, I naïvely thought a few hundred police were there to pay respects at the April 9 memorial. Reality hit me when my poster was forcibly taken. Everything then blurred: a girl next to me was punched and led away, a pregnant friend was pushed, a female participant was thrown to the ground, and ultimately we were split into two groups and forced down separate streets.
The word ‘split’ is deliberate. The regional police chief issued the order in Russian-Mingrelian: ‘Davai, dorai’ [Go, push]. Half an hour later, the officers left. Municipal employees took photos for social media. They had hidden our EU and Ukraine flags, though one photo still shows bouquets brought by schoolchildren, candles removed for aesthetics.
We returned to the April 9 memorial, bruised and insulted. One participant required an ambulance. The strongest emotion came when I reflected: the police of our country attacked its own citizens at the memorial. I cannot imagine worse,” Vartagava recalls.
“But I had held onto my poster: ‘Even if the swallow is killed, spring will come…’”
“It was a breakthrough the public broadcaster heard the people’s voice”
“The most memorable day was November 30, when the first confrontation occurred at the public broadcaster. It was an example of expanding resistance,” recounts Gota Chanturia, a leader of the “Sazmau’s March” movement.
Chanturia emphasizes that resistance requires depriving the authorities of tools of power, and one pillar of Georgian Dream’s unconstitutional rule is propaganda:
“It was very emotional for me personally, being asked to help with a small megaphone. The effect of that surprise was strong. Emotionally, the whole of Georgia was watching the public broadcaster for several hours.
For the first time, the broadcaster transmitted the voice of the people. It was a breakthrough. I felt proud. The public broadcaster had been attempting covert propaganda for a long time, unlike Post TV or Imedi. For years it avoided criticism from society.
That day was also a victory: for the first time in years, the people’s voice was heard on public television. It was very diverse: different ages, social statuses, and viewpoints.
This protest showed that resistance is not only on Rustaveli Avenue it is nationwide. It also expanded the scope to social issues, creating a significant protest center,” Chanturia said.
“I will always remember people crossing the street despite imprisonment for blocking roads”
Former public official Nato Bolkvadze recalls the unprecedented courage of public servants:
“For the first time in history, public officials openly and coordinately condemned the ruling party’s actions through petitions, defending the state and the Georgian people. This will help create a freer, more independent civil service in the future.”
Bolkvadze notes that although some officials were dismissed, others, including active officials like Tornike Toshkhua, remain. She shares an example: a colleague said, ‘I can leave, but how can I leave the system for them?’ meaning that leaving would help the party consolidate public service under its control.
Bolkvadze highlights the emotional significance of seeing people confront their fear:
“I recall a colleague, frightened by repressive laws punishing road blocking, mask-wearing, and other actions, telling us privately, ‘I’m scared, I can’t go out’… Yet the next day, they stood with us again.
I remember how, despite threats of imprisonment for road blocking, people continued crossing the street. I saw completely new faces every day, boldly defending the constitutionally guaranteed right to protest. The emotional bond between those on the sidewalk and those crossing the street was remarkable: they supported each other and protected one another from police recognition and arrest.”
“Apparently, I’m a very rich person”
Journalist Ninia Kakabadze recalls one protest moment:
“The phrase ‘Let go, this is my child’ belongs to a mother at a protest. Anyone outside continuing the struggle today is a ‘mother’ protecting her ‘child.’
The turning point was November 28. Since then, it’s been equally hard: Georgian Dream does not retreat, and the farther we go, the more distant the ideal future seems.
Two things sustain us. First, most importantly, each other: standing together, fighting together. This is the main factor we gained over the past year. Apparently, I am very rich. I have far more friends and close people than I ever imagined.
Despite everything, we’ve all had moments of weakness, thought of leaving, staying quiet… but political prisoners in jail never gave us that option. Each of them is a model of resilience, never allowing us to give up.”
“At dawn, the special forces moved toward Melikishvili Avenue…”
Public official Archil Mamulashvili, still participating in pro-European protests, recalls November 19, 2024:
“Early in the morning, special forces moved from Ilia Chavchavadze Avenue toward Melikishvili. A young protester said to a girl: ‘Let’s go, otherwise if they catch me, look what they did to Kacharava!’ I overheard boys saying, ‘They don’t even have identifiable markings on their uniforms. If they beat you to death, they won’t know who it was…’
I am proud thinking of how these young people overcome fear to protest publicly, while the next generation is intimidated by the state security forces.”
Mamulashvili notes that his protest began October 26, when Georgian Dream received 53.9% in Georgia and 13.5% abroad:
“There is no rational explanation. This raised clear questions about election legitimacy. Unfortunately, these questions are even more valid today due to restrictions on emigrant voting. I protest because I cannot accept the situation: the deaf wall Georgian Dream erected and the unfair reality leave no choice but protest.
I believe it is unacceptable for the historic choice of generations democracy and Georgia’s European future to be jeopardized. The people standing on Rustaveli today give hope: a united, fearless civil society that our country has always lacked. It is worth fighting for this people, this idea, until victory and always defending victory.”
“A police officer approached me in the court lobby…”
Mariam Sichinava, activist from Zugdidi, recalls how protest persisted despite new laws:
“As many new laws as they passed, the Georgian people imposed them back on the Russian regime. The main story is that the Ivanishvili group could not kill the protest. Even after a year, people continue protesting, and this is not just protest it is resistance.
I was approached by a police officer in the court lobby, who asked about laws regulating gatherings. I checked the laws and told him, ‘We will all violate these laws.’ From the end of December, nihilism was already in the protests. There was no fear.
The protest began in Zugdidi with women, defying laws starting the day after they were signed. We protested the balaclava ban demonstratively, showing resistance.”
“Even on my birthday, I went to the protest this struggle is bigger than personal life”
Student Lara Kartsivadze, 20, recalls the March 8 women’s march in Batumi, coinciding with her birthday:
“I led the march and thought about how Russian influence has affected society’s empathy. Civic responsibility became so important to me that my personal life is no longer a priority. That day we marched for Mzia Amaghlobeli, still unjustly imprisoned. She is a true role model. I try to have the right role models in life,” Kartsivadze told Batumelebi.