Freedom Comes at a Steep Price

SUKHUMI, Georgia —  Zinaida Mikvabia comes often to the little cemetery in the city center with her broom made of twigs to sweep the graves of her grandson and nephew, two “Heroes of Abkhazia.” Both died fighting in the tiny Georgian republic’s 1993 war for independence.

Nearby, ruined hulks of buildings overgrown with weeds and trees line streets nearly empty of people and cars. More than five years after the war ended, people still live in bullet-riddled, dilapidated apartment blocks without hot water, heat or gas. The government is so poor, it can’t even afford to demolish the ravaged buildings.

But Mikvabia, 83, has no regrets. The little republic of Abkhazia won its freedom from Georgia.

“No one oppresses us, and we have become free people,” said the old woman, standing between the two graves. “I don’t feel sorry for the young people who died here. It was a very noble death.”

For Abkhazia--a narrow strip of land on the Black Sea where the mythical Jason came in ancient times to find the Golden Fleece--the price of freedom has been high. An estimated 10,000 people died in the 14-month war; today the republic is an economic disaster zone where the International Committee of the Red Cross feeds 1 in every 3 people.

As Russians used to joke about Mongolia, Abkhazia is the most independent republic in the world--no one depends on it for anything.

While Abkhazia considers itself an independent nation, no one else seems to agree. Georgia still claims sovereignty over the republic--which is smaller than San Luis Obispo County. Abkhazia’s assertion of independence hasn’t been recognized by a single nation.

The destruction of Abkhazia is just one result of the ethnic strife that has swept like a plague through the former Communist world in the decade since the Soviet Bloc began to break apart. From Yugoslavia, where the term “ethnic cleansing” originated, to the Caucasus to Central Asia, post-Communist separatism has sparked eight wars and driven more than 6 million people from their homes.

Much of what was once the Soviet Union’s southern region has been embroiled in ethnic and religious warfare. Today, fighting rages in the Central Asian nation of Kyrgyzstan and in the southern Russian republics of Dagestan and Chechnya as government troops battle Islamic rebels.

So far, separatists have succeeded in creating four rogue republics in what was once the Soviet domain--Abkhazia, Chechnya, Nagorno-Karabakh and Trans-Dniester. The nationalists control their own small territories but live in isolation from the rest of the world.

Here in Abkhazia, Georgian authorities are unable to set foot on the rebellious territory. For the past five years, Georgia has imposed an embargo on Abkhazia with Russia’s help, blocking the import of anything but food and medicine. Russia announced this month that it will soon lift its restrictions, but the republic will take years, if not decades, to recover.

With Abkhazia’s economy crippled, manufacturing has shut down and farmland lies fallow. One of the republic’s biggest exports is scrap metal stripped from its moribund factories. Only two international telephone lines still work. Sunny beaches once packed with tourists are empty except for soldiers on patrol.

Culturally, the republic seems frozen in Soviet time: There are no Big Macs or cellular phones, Pentium chips or potato chips, Ricky Martin or cable TV.

Much of Abkhazia’s younger generation has fled, leaving a disproportionately large population of pensioners. Abkhazian officials say the republic’s population has shrunk from 537,000 to 300,000, but independent estimates put it at less than 150,000. In Sukhumi, the Abkhazian capital, young men who have stayed behind stand idle on street corners near shattered buildings and talk of their hatred for their Georgian neighbors.

“How can I live with Georgians after they killed my sister, after they killed my brother?” asked Nurik Sagaris, 23, a veteran of the fighting. “Those who betrayed us will never be allowed to return.”

Abkhazian historians say their people have lived for 10,000 years on the 130-mile-long sliver of land where the Caucasus Mountains meet the Black Sea.

During Soviet times, the province on the border of Asia and Europe was a semitropical paradise where honored socialist workers could vacation at seaside hotels with gardens of palms, acacias and banana trees. Dictator Josef Stalin himself had four dachas in the fertile farming region famous for its tangerines.

Like other Caucasus cultures, the Abkhazians have a strong tradition of hospitality. Weak homemade wine is plentiful, and every Abkhazian, it seems, likes to tell the legend of how their people got the territory they hold so dear:

After God created the Earth, the story goes, he called together representatives of all the people of the world and divided the land among them. The Abkhazian, however, arrived late, and God had already given everything away. Irritated, God demanded to know why the man was tardy. “A guest arrived, and of course I could not leave,” the Abkhazian explained. God, who also valued being a good host, rewarded the Abkhazians by giving them the parcel he had reserved for himself--the most beautiful spot on Earth.

“Since this land was given to us by God, we will die for this land if need be,” Abkhazian scientist Sergei K. Ardzinba said. “It is impossible for them to beat a nation that battles tanks with bare hands and Molotov cocktails.”

While many Abkhazians are Muslim in name, the war for independence was not over religion; there is not a single mosque in the republic. Abkhazians portray themselves as an indigenous people fighting decades of Soviet colonization. They point out that it was Stalin and his henchman, Lavrenti Beria--both ethnic Georgians--who incorporated their territory into Georgia.

Some say Stalin coveted their rich lands. By the 1950s, Georgians vastly outnumbered Abkhazians in the southern Caucasus province.

With the disintegration of the Soviet Union in 1991, Abkhazia declared its independence. Georgia, which itself became independent, rejected Abkhazia’s claim and sent troops into the region.

At the outset of the war in 1992, Georgian commanding Gen. Georgy Karkarashvili told the rebels that if they didn’t lay down their arms, “we shall wipe out the entire population of you Abkhazians.”

The fierce Abkhazian troops were outnumbered but drove out the Georgians. Neighbor fought neighbor, and both sides took part in brutal “ethnic cleansing.” About 300,000 refugees fled the region--most of them Georgians--and half of the republic’s buildings were destroyed.

Russian peacekeeping troops moved into Abkhazia in 1994, as they have in Tajikistan, Trans-Dniester, Bosnia-Herzegovina and Kosovo. A large force of U.N. observers also is stationed in Abkhazia.

Nevertheless, fighting flared up again last year, and 60,000 Georgians fled from the border region of Gali as 10,000 homes burned.

For the international community, bringing about lasting peace in Abkhazia--as in Bosnia and Kosovo--poses a tough challenge. Western powers have resisted the idea of partition and autonomy, yet ethnic hatred is so intense that there is little chance the two groups can live together without a long-term commitment of international peacekeeping forces.

Abkhazian President Vladislav Ardzinba says his people are willing to hold out for decades, if necessary, to win international recognition for their nation. Other countries, he notes, have waited as long.

“Eritrea fought . . . for its independence for 30 years,” said Ardzinba, a former historian who is expected to win reelection Sunday. “The United States existed while it was not recognized by Great Britain. Sooner or later, Abkhazia will be recognized by the international community.”

Yet, despite the determination of its leaders, Abkhazia is both too rich and too small for its own good: too rich a land for its neighbors to leave it alone and too small for world powers to take an interest in protecting it.

Abkhazians believe that they have little chance of prevailing in the international arena as long as Eduard A. Shevardnadze remains president of Georgia. As Soviet foreign minister, Shevardnadze played a crucial role in dismantling the Communist empire and is widely admired in the West.

In Abkhazia, where he personally commanded the Georgian army at the height of the war, Shevardnadze is viewed as a villain bent on genocide. Abkhazians believe that Georgia’s treatment of Abkhazia is overlooked by the West as a reward for Shevardnadze’s part in bringing down the Soviet Union.

“As long as Shevardnadze stays in power, nothing good can happen,” said Marina Y. Ashuba, 34, who runs a meager food shop in Sukhumi from the entryway of her apartment building. “Americans listen to what Shevardnadze has to say. What can a small but proud Abkhazian people do about it? Shevardnadze will never forgive us for our victory. He will do everything possible to wipe out the Abkhazian people.”

Shevardnadze declined to be interviewed for this article, but Rezan Adamiya, a leader of the Georgian parliament, said he saw little chance of resolving the conflict--even though Georgia has offered Abkhazia broad autonomy if it remains part of Georgia. “For any progress in the near future, I have no hope,” he said.

The embargo was imposed by Russia and Georgia in 1994 ostensibly because of fears that Abkhazia was aiding the nearby republic of Chechnya in its war against Russia. The effect, however, has been much broader.

Under the rules of the blockade, Abkhazian men aren’t permitted to cross the border. Only a handful of essential goods is allowed in, while machinery, consumer products, tourists and capital investment are prohibited.

Officially, Abkhazians are allowed to export some goods, but as often as not food products such as tangerines rot at the border before Russian officials let them through.

The tourist industry that once thrived along the rocky Black Sea beaches collapsed for lack of visitors. Today, many of the resort hotels lie in ruins. Fuel is in short supply, and there are so few cars on the road that drivers use whichever side of the street they want.

Across the republic, the war has left a trail of torched homes, gutted factories and razed villages. In Sukhumi, the main government building, shelled and burned during the war, stands unrepaired.

During the fighting, the Georgians shelled a primate research center and hundreds of monkeys escaped; today, there are occasional reports of monkeys coming into populated areas near Sukhumi and stealing fruit and vegetables from villagers.

In Gali, pigs wander through the center of town rooting for food in the same park where desperate residents chopped down trees for firewood during the war.

The economic devastation has been so complete that analysts say lifting the embargo will have little immediate effect. The country has no capital to invest and no jobs to lure its people back.

Despite its desire for independence, the government is unable to provide even basic services. The biggest employers in the region are international organizations that have come to help, such as the Halo Trust, which has hired and trained local people to remove 30,000 land mines left from the war. The International Committee of the Red Cross feeds 45,000 people, most of them children and the elderly.

“We have kept some people alive for six years,” said Jean-Paul Corboz, head of the Red Cross mission in Abkhazia. “It should be the responsibility of government, but someone has to do it.”

Alexandra M. Silagadze, 76, lives in a Sukhumi apartment building pockmarked by bullets. The roof is damaged, and when it rains, water streams down her walls. Her pension is 10 Russian rubles a month--the equivalent of 40 cents. She tries to grow vegetables in a sad little garden but eats most of her meals at a Red Cross canteen. She is an ethnic Georgian but refuses to flee--in part because she has nowhere to go.

“Before the war, life was good and beautiful,” she said. “We had what we wanted. Of course, the war was a complete stupidity. But no one asked the opinion of ordinary people. It was the government’s decision. The government is independent, but the people live in dire straits.”