In a nation exhausted by war, the youthful leader of the opposition is causing a stir, writes MEGAN STACKin Tbilisi
THE STREET protests that raged against Georgia’s US-backed president in recent days are, in part, the gambit of a smart young man with an eye to toppling his one-time boss by being his polar opposite.
In a land where leaders are expected to emote theatrically, 35-year-old opposition leader Irakli Alasania is a low-key anomaly. The lawyer, negotiator and diplomat is in his element one-on-one, with gaze direct and voice low and measured. Standing before the cheering masses, he often appears stiff; from afar, his reserve turns to inscrutability.
But in a nation exhausted by upheaval, revolution and war, and increasingly wary of the sometimes irrational spontaneity that marks President Mikheil Saakashvili’s leadership, the buzz around the former UN ambassador continues to grow.
“What we’re seeing today in the streets of Georgia is not only a political process,” Alasania said over the weekend as he paused between rallying crowds of demonstrators and a closed-door meeting with a European Union representative. “It’s a huge mistrust of the government on the part of the people. I chose to be with the people and stand with the people in any way I can.”
That a young and politically untested figure is seriously discussed as the opposition’s most credible leader – and a possible successor to Saakashvili – is, in part, a sign of the paucity of plausible alternatives. But Alasania is also a clean slate – he has no political past to answer for. And for many people here, his lack of exposure carries its own kind of appeal.
“Georgians, as emotional people, demand leaders with charisma,” said Shalva Pichkhadze. “I’m not sure Irakli has charisma. people regard him as a counterpoint to Saakashvili, because he’s rational.”
And in spots where it counts, Alasania has credibility. The breakaway republics now occupied by Russia after last summer’s war are a deeply painful subject for most Georgians; for Alasania, they are the backdrop of personal tragedy.
He was a teenager who volunteered to fight with his father, a Georgian general, when war erupted between Georgia’s central government and separatists in the breakaway seaside republic of Ab- khazia. On the blood-soaked day in 1993 when separatist guerrillas overran the port city of Sukhumi, his father was executed.
Alasania survived and, along with thousands of displaced refugees, trudged on foot through the mountains into Georgia proper.
“It was a terrible experience, the most tragic days, not only for me, but for all the people there,” he remembered. “After the military defeat there was so much anger in society, so much pain.”
Alasania grew up fast. He studied law and was a father by the time he was 18. He worked in the security and defence ministries and served in the self-declared Abkhaz government in exile.
In 2005, Saakashvili asked him to represent Georgia in peace talks with the Abkhaz leadership. Alasania hesitated; in a broad sense, this would mean negotiating with the people who killed his father. But in the end he agreed. He was soon promoted again, becoming Georgia’s representative to the United Nations in 2006. When Saakashvili launched a military assault on another breakaway republic, South Ossetia, Alasania was thousands of miles away.
Now, both separatist republics have been recognised by Moscow as independent states, and host thousands of Russian soldiers. For Alasania, the war that shaved away a fifth of Georgia’s land was “the final stroke” in his souring sentiments toward Saakashvili.
“The war was avoidable by direct talks with Abkhazia and South Ossetia,” he said. “We had debates, but I was never listened to.” Alasania said he’d decided to break with Saakashvili by last May, driven away by what he characterises as an increasingly authoritarian streak and the erosion of democratic institutions.
He waited until December to resign. He said he didn’t want to abandon the government at a moment of crisis.
The peaceful nature of the protests, coupled with the opposition’s failure to mobilise the predicted 150,000 demonstrators, has infused the government with a sense of having crossed the major hurdle. Saakashvili repeated his offer to hold talks with opposition leaders, but if he has been rattled by the demonstrations, he has kept it to himself.
In the small hours of Saturday, Saakashvili slipped in to a backstreet bar, plunking down at a table of mostly foreign reporters, tossing back home-made wine and laughing loudly at his own jokes.
The message was clear – there’s nothing to see here, these protests mean nothing. Saakashvili scoffed at the idea there had been any crisis to begin with, that foreign reporters had invented the whole thing. These people have protested many times, he said. The same people, the same slogans.
Then he went back to giggling about Georgian women who’ve posed for nudie magazines, about trips to Turkey and paparazzi photographers.
But Alasania seems set for a long stand-off. He prefers not to discuss what he called “my presidential ambitions”, but they plainly exist.
He's planning trips to outlying regions in hopes of giving voters a chance to know him better. He says his confrontation with the government will continue. Saakashvili, he said, "has a record of missing opportunities and squandering opportunities. I don't believe this political crisis will be solved in a matter of days". – ( LA Times-Washington Post service)