Sakartvelo, Chronicle of a Struggle by Marylise Vigneau
Marylise Vigneau is an award-winning documentary photographer and author, often based between Austria and Pakistan. Raised in a secretive Parisian family, Vigneau developed an early passion for investigation and a deep sense of justice. Her intellectual curiosity led her to La Sorbonne, where she completed a Master’s in Comparative Literature, focusing on cities as characters in Russian and Central-European novels—places where clear narratives dissolve into haunting, elusive uncertainty.
Though literature was her first love, photography became her primary mode of expression—perhaps because of the unique blend of precision, immediacy, truth, and ambiguity inherent in every image.
Her work is driven by a fascination with the impact of borders—both physical and psychological—on the human experience. She seeks out these liminal spaces, where fleeting acts of courage or glimpses of freedom emerge.
Vigneau prefers to work on long-term projects, delving deeply into themes of memory and place, often in regions rich with history and fraught with socio-political tensions. Her lens captures the fragile, in-between moments that reveal the complexities of the human condition.
As 2024 draws to a close, the world is in tumult. This year witnessed a new wave of authoritarianism eroding democratic institutions, but powerful acts of resistance were ignited amidst this turmoil.
This is particularly true in Georgia —known as Sakartvelo by its people— a tiny nation on the eastern shore of the Black Sea with a long history of fighting against Soviet and Russian colonialism.
Since the authoritarian and Kremlin-friendly "Georgian Dream Party" founded by oligarch Bidzina Ivanishvili, who built his wealth in Russia after the USSR's collapse, came into power in 2012, the country had slowly lurched toward authoritarianism.
In the opinion of most, the parliamentary elections of October 26, 2024, were meant to reverse this trend. They were clearly rigged and soon followed by the suspension of the negotiations for accession to the European Union.
The collective stupor, mixed with despair that had followed the vote, shifted dramatically. When the decision was announced on November 28, anguish turned to fury. Tens of thousands poured into the streets, marching to Parliament to defend self-determination along with democracy and their European future. Walls, hastily repainted to cover the words of anger scrawled by protesters, became a battlefield of messages, erased and rewritten nightly. Fireworks were thrown at the Parliament. The government answered with ferocity, wielding tear gas, water cannons, and batons. Protesters suffered severe injuries; some lost eyes, and others bore bruises and scars. Dozens were arrested. Masked attackers targeted journalists and government critics. But protesters didn't back down.
As I am writing, the demonstrations continue. Georgia's defiant stand against oppression and assertion of a European destiny seem unyielding.
Euripides once wrote, "Who can stop grief's avalanche once it starts to roll?" These words resonate deeply here, for Medea, the tragic heroine of Euripides' play, was Georgian.
Photographing these moments of uprising has been a profound experience. I have seen people unite, caring for one another amid adversity. Every evening, Rustaveli Avenue, Tbilisi's main thoroughfare, transforms into a vibrant space of resistance. The walk toward Parliament, punctuated by the growing hum of whistles, slogans, and conversations, became a ritual, bringing fresh waves of emotion each time.
What is at stake? "Nothing less than an existential struggle", a young protester declared. "We do not want our country to become a Russian vassal state," It is a fight for independence, for freedom, for a future far from the shadow of Moscow." The choice between an imperfect European Union and an authoritarian, imperialist Russia—allied with regimes like Iran, Assad's Syria, and North Korea— is stark but simple. For many Georgians, there is no room for hesitation.
This essay is a tribute to unwavering, courageous, and resilient people who refuse to let others dictate their destiny. To these strong yet fragile "no," who sometimes fail but always shape the world.
A balloon adorned with a black dot was left in one of the staircases of Tbilisi after a protest. The black dot has become a symbol of the rigged parliamentary elections. In the charged political landscape of Georgia, symbolism plays a potent role in shaping resistance.
Protests erupted two days after the rigged parliamentary elections.
The structure of a Christmas tree was erected on the site where police had injured demonstrators. This picture was taken from inside this structure as protesters released smoke to express their anger.
Amid the protests, a mysterious Grinch marched silently through the crowds. A few days later, the government announced a ban on masks.
Activists staged a performance, placing an effigy of Bidzina Ivanishvili -The oligarch who created the Georgian Dream Party- in a coffin. They paraded in a mock funeral before burning it outside of the parliament. The next day, propaganda narratives surfaced. Some clergy condemned the act as “satanic".
Banners display photos of protesters injured by the police in earlier demonstrations. The protesters demanded new elections, and the release of demonstrators jailed a week earlier.
A line of riot police blocks a street near Parliament while protesters shine lasers at them.
Maka Chikhladze at her home recovering from her assault. She suffered brain contusions and shared that, during the attack, she felt as though she was going to die. On December 8, journalist Maka Chikhladze, from pro-opposition TV Pirveli, was attacked live on air by multiple masked men reportedly tied to the Georgian government. These masked men have been violently beating protesters and journalists at demonstrations in Tbilisi for over a week, operating with apparent impunity. Maka's investigation into their activities and potential government ties appears to have made her a target—marking a concerning attack on press freedom. This assault is the latest in a troubling pattern of escalating violence against journalists in Georgia amid ongoing protests.
One form of protest involved banging on the metal gates of the parliament.
Protesters used laser lights to write and draw on the facade of the Parliament. That night, their messages targeted the unwanted Christmas tree installed at the site where, just a week earlier, many had been brutally beaten and injured.
“Who can we call when the police murders?”
Zviad Maisashvili was a victim of police violence. Zviad arrived at a rally with his brother, just as the special forces were using water cannons to disperse demonstrators on Chitadze Street. At the same time, a police cordon moved forward on Rustaveli Avenue from Freedom Square. Zviad Maisashvili was attacked by around ten police officers in front of the Rustaveli Theatre. The incident was broadcast live by the party member, Teona Chalidze. The footage shows him lying on the asphalt, helpless, when one of the policemen kicks him in the head with his heel when he was lying down, and almost immediately another policeman kicks him in the face. After that, Zviad fell unconscious. He credits people who came to his aid and protected him from being detained. "They helped me to a car, and I was taken to the clinic. When I woke up, I was already in a medical facility," says Zviad.
Two young girls found a moment of respite inside Saint George Church, located just across the Parliament of Georgia, the epicentre of the protests.
Ella is a 19-year-old Tatar freelance journalist who specialises in Russian dissidence. She poses with the book of Boris Nestov, a physicist, a politician and a Putin opponent who was shot while walking a bridge in Moscow in 2014. He was murdered less than two days before he was due to take part in a peace rally against Russian involvement in the war in Ukraine and the financial crisis in Russia.
Throughout December, numerous marches were organized representing a broad spectrum of the society: marches by social workers, the elderly, wine procurers, writers and Hellenists. Khorumi dancers also organized a march. Khorumi is a Georgian traditional war dance symbolizing unity and determination.
On December 14, street dogs, loyal protest participants, joined a football game on Rustaveli Avenue to mock the illegitimate election of a single candidate, former footballer Kavelashvili, as president.
A young couple embraces in front of a tagged monument in the heart of Tbilisi. The message reflects growing anger toward Russia and the Kremlin-friendly Georgian Dream Party, accused of rigging the October 26 elections to stay in power. It clearly is a message to Russia.
All photographs © Marylise Vigneau