A Georgian organization has set itself the mission of approaching the Russian occupation forces, in order to observe possible groupings of enemy troops in the separatist territory of South Ossetia.
The Caucasus Mountains and their snow-capped peaks rise on the horizon, beyond patches of fruit trees and multicolored flowers, crossed by rivers. A pick-up parked in the middle of this landscape. A man comes out, dressed in khaki. He opens his hand and releases a drone, which buzzes into flight and disappears into the blue sky. Inside the vehicle, eyes glued to a control screen, another silently controls the machine equipped with a camera. Dato Mtvarelichvili and Bakhva Gvaramia are two volunteers from the Georgian organization Strength in Numbers. The pair operates a few hundred meters from the demarcation line between Georgia and South Ossetia, a territory which has self-proclaimed its independence and which Russian forces have occupied since 2008 alongside Ossetian militias. Tbilisi, the Georgian capital, is only 140 km away.
In the distance, we can see a former civilian airport, destroyed during the invasion of 2008. And just beyond, the town of Tskhinvali. The separatist authorities have established their capital there, which hosts the largest military base in the sector. The two observers want to take advantage of the raising of the flag, which brings the soldiers out at around 9 a.m., to try to assess the numbers. “If the situation deteriorates in our country, the Russian army could be tempted to take advantage of it”, Bakhva Gvaramia fears. A fear revived at a time when Georgia is shaken by demonstrations against the law on “foreign influence”, imagined by Georgian Dream, the party in power for twelve years. His detractors accuse him of drawing inspiration from a text in force in Russia, in order to muzzle opposition.
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“At the moment, we are not seeing any significant troop movements”, reassures Dato Mtvarelichvili. A villager, who passes by, gets off his bike to exchange a few words with the two activists. Curious and jaded all at the same time. “I live just behind and I’m not particularly afraid. But if they come with weapons, I will have nothing to defend myselfhe summarizes. Our side would still have to be guarded.” The agreement signed in 2008 to end the conflict provided for the Georgian military to return to their bases. Along the demarcation line, only police patrols still ensure the sovereignty of the State.
“Before the war in Ukraine, there were more Russian soldiers in the surrounding bases. But I think many must have joined the front there.”
Dato Mtvarelichvili, member of Union is Strengthat franceinfo
Sitting in the 4×4, Dato Mtvarelichvili takes screenshots of the images filmed by the drone. After recalling their flying machine, the pair gets back in the car and drives for a long time across fields, before stopping near Dvani, then taking out their observation device. The dividing line is rarely closed. Most often, it is only materialized by a simple furrow, painted trees or simple posts. The two men fly their drone up to 300 m altitude. They are trying to avoid electronic interference, because during a previous outing, they had already lost control of a small aircraft.
The two observers go to the heights of Chorchana. In particular, they wish to observe the evolution of the situation around small outposts, where Ossetian flags fly. These are located at positions 42°08’27″N 43°41’31″E and 42°08’31″N 43°41’19″E. The two modest constructions are buried deep in the forest, 900 m beyond the official route, explains Dato Mtvarelichvili. “They have been on Georgian territory since 2019, without anyone finding anything wrong with them.” In recent weeks, he observed, without understanding why, that trenches had been dug around several barracks.
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On his computer, Dato Mtvarelichvili opens Google Earth, one of the applications he uses to compile data collected on the Russian military presence. “After each outingI load the information onto my computer and study it further.”he comments. His organization says it has counted 45 military establishments in South Ossetia and 27 in Abkhazia, the other separatist region occupied by Russian forces, since 1992-1993. This second territory “is economically and strategically interesting for Russia”underlines Bakhva Gvaramia. “But here the interest is purely strategic.”
“By moving a little towards the highway, in the direction we are, the enemy army could cut the country in two.”
Bakhva Gvaramia, member of Union is Strengthat franceinfo
There is a point where the dividing line passes less than 400 m from the highway. It was in this area that Bakhva Gvaramia slammed on the brakes that morning when he saw a police car in the distance. “We have the right to go to the demarcation line, but the police won’t let us film with drones”explains Dato Mtvarelichvili. “If a patrol comes upon us when we have this machine, we will be escorted back to the capital.” For the sake of discretion, the two men therefore prefer to leave early in the morning and take improbable bumpy paths. As they pass, some peasants seem a little bewildered. Their eyes follow this enigmatic Toyota, which lurches, alone, in the ruts.
The two observers go back down to the plain, skirting the thick forest. They also suspect the enemy of wanting to take control of the sector. One day they went looking for inscriptions on the trees, a sign which generally announces the desire of opposing soldiers to discreetly push back the border. “But there, a little further up, we quickly left the place when we heard Russian being spoken.” The Georgian state services, more broadly, denounce the constant desires of the separatist camp to nibble land, by pushing back the line using barbed wire and fences.
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In a roadside house along the Cheratkhevi River, a woman prepares dough for “khachapouri”, a traditional bread filled with cheese, which she bakes in a wood stove. The walls are covered with small Orthodox vignettes and faded photos of soldiers. “The demarcation line is not very far. There are barbed wire in the forest”she explains, pointing to a wooded hill. “I’m afraid, you know. I’m not going to look for wood or pick mushrooms there, because I might be arrested by Russian soldiers.” In 2008, during the fighting, she remained hidden for three days in the village. When she emerged from her shelter, the enemies had already invaded the surrounding area.
Three people from her village were kidnapped, she says, and her brother was also detained for three weeks. Residents accuse the Russians of sometimes violating the demarcation line to arrest them, before releasing them upon payment of a fine. Testimonies from border residents have become rare, as Georgian security forces require authorization from media wishing to visit villages located near the demarcation line. And when a pass is granted, journalists are sometimes escorted to their interlocutors.
“I don’t want Russia, and my family doesn’t want Russia. With it there is only misfortune and war.”
A resident, near the demarcation lineat franceinfo
Last year, 37 people were illegally arrested in the occupied Tskhinvali region, according to the annual report of the State Security Service of Georgia, but the two members of Union is Strength assure that these figures are under. evaluated. Last year, a veteran of the 2008 war was killed by occupying forces while going to a church at the demarcation line. The memory of the Russian invasion is never far away. On the way back, Chindisi Park commemorates the memory of 17 Georgian soldiers killed during the violent fighting. Their faces are forever engraved on the marble of the tombs, very close to a pyramidal statue which celebrates their final battle.
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The two patrollers accuse the government of hiding border issues under the carpet, in order to spare the invasive Russian neighbor. “If we were supported, we would not be forced to take the wrong path”sighs Dato Mtvarelichvil, who transmits his images to national security when he considers them interesting. “In five years, I have never seen a Georgian drone”he deplores, criticizing the inaction of the authorities to enforce the route of the line.
This resentment is further fueled by current events. In the tumult of the capital, anti-government demonstrations have been organized for weeks against the law on “foreign influence”, renamed “Russian law” by its opponents. When the crew car finally returns to the city, Bakhva Gvaramia slaloms at full speed through the traffic. He is angry with the ruling party, which he considers too conciliatory with Moscow despite the candidacy for the European Union. “I feel like I’m going back 30 years, before the fall of the USSR.”