Seeking the ties that bind

Photo James Emery (CC) Commons.wikimedia.org

Europe is not only a geographical and political concept but also a cultural one. When trying to better understand what Europe is, we decided to visit two post-communist countries: Slovakia and Georgia. The former is a young European state, which is now part of the European Union and is a member of the eurozone. The latter in fact lies outside of Europe’s borders, but it has aspirations to become a member of the European community and is perceived as a country that has been successful with some of its economic and social reforms. Both countries were in some way dominated for many years by Moscow. Georgia was a republic of the Soviet Union and Slovakia, as part of Czechoslovakia, was subjugated to Moscow during its time behind the Iron Curtain.

Today, not many people would see Georgia and Slovakia as having much in common. Yet there are certain elements – psychological, cultural and even political – that do bind these two states. That is why we decided to go to both places and directly discover the similarities ourselves.

History as a starting point

A logical place to start is history – something that is very important to both states. Georgia has a very rich state history even though it was under the occupation of various powers throughout the centuries, including Arabia, Turkey, Persia and Russia (later replaced by the Soviet Union). Georgia’s turbulent independence, following the collapse of the Soviet Union, was marked by civil wars, secession and economic collapse. By contrast, the 21st century brought reforms and a brief war with Russia in 2008. Geopolitics and geoeconomics placed Georgia in Asia, although culturally it is rooted in Europe. Georgia became a Christian state in the year 337 and Orthodoxy is a very important component of its identity.

Slovakia, in turn, did not actually have a history of its own statehood prior to 1918. It was only after the First World War when Czechoslovakia, a federal state which recognised Slovakia as a separate entity, emerged. Since the Middle Ages and through the First World War, Slovakia had been part of Upper Hungary (inhabited mostly by Slovak people). During the Second World War, between 1939 and 1945, there existed the so-called Slovak State, dependent on Nazi Germany. In 1944 the Slovak National Uprising, a resistance movement, was launched against German forces in Slovakia. In 1948 the communists took power in Czechoslovakia and Slovakia became part of the communist bloc. In 1993, four years after the defeat of communism, there was the “velvet divorce” between the Czech Republic and Slovakia; and in 2004 Slovakia joined the European Union and NATO and in 2009 it adopted the euro as its currency. 

In our visit, we start with Georgia, in the city of Kutaisi. At dawn the city was dark, sleepy and empty. On the main square was a gaudy fountain with gold-plated figurines of animals. The taxi drivers and owners of small currency exchange shops were awaiting their clientele. One gets the impression that Kutaisi is a quiet provincial town even though it is Georgia’s second largest city. Most of the buildings lack care and there is plenty of unfinished construction around the city, some of which has turned into piles of ruin. Nevertheless, there is a lot of green space and the streets are decorated with spreading trees, entwined with ivy. During the day, the streets are vibrant and full of life – young students, donning typical American-style clothes, are rushing to school. In the park the loud youth are offset by elderly Georgians playing dominos and chess. On top of a high hill overlooking the city stands the proud Bagrati Cathedral, which had its golden age in the 11th and 13th centuries. From the cathedral one can see the sprawling city, surrounded by the Caucasus Mountains.

Knight in crocodile’s skin

Kutaisi is more than just a provincial city; it is, in theory, also a governmental one. In 2011 the then President Mikheil Saakashvili transferred the parliament here as part of his decentralisation programme. Today, however, only a few sessions actually take place in Kutaisi. The authorities remain unsure about what to do with the brand new parliament building. Some suggested it could be converted into an arts centre. At the beginning of the century, Kutaisi also opened a large, new airport, named after David the Builder – one of the greatest rulers in Georgian history.

A very common form of transportation in the post-Soviet space is the marshrutka – a privately owned mini-bus where the driver crams as many passengers as possible. Our driver, taking us from Kutaisi to Tbilisi, turned out to be a real Caucasian “knight in crocodile’s skin”. He was dressed in a tracksuit stylised on the Lacoste brand, but instead of the characteristic crocodile there was a giant dragon, covering half of driver’s back as if it was ready to jump out of his clothes.

In Georgia you can smoke almost everywhere – in cafés, public transport (even in the underground metro) and, of course, the marshrutka. The journey to Tbilisi was a stark reminder that we are travelling in the post-Soviet space. The driver blared music that was fitting for the region, including Russian disco-pop and Russian chanson. The landscape was dotted by ruined factories and unfinished building projects which appeared like wounds in the majestic mountainous scenery. There were no visible road signs indicating the distance from Kutaisi to Tbilisi; only distances to other state capitals: Baku – 688 km; Teheran – 1,290 km. The never-ending traffic jam began well before we entered Tbilisi city limits.

We finally made it to Didube bus station, which is packed full of booths selling various trinkets and goods, typical of post-Soviet capitalism. Among the mass of booths and crowds of people, we located our metro station entrance.

The Tbilisi metro is like a chronicle of the city. The mosaic at Technical University Station, for example, shows a bucolic picture of a scientific society, young people doing sport, children playing and overhead proudly flies the sputnik satellite and a dove of peace. The mosaic was built in 1979 – the same year the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan.

Today, Tbilisi displays new symbols and brands. In the prestigious Saburtalo neighbourhood near the city centre, among the post-Soviet buildings and small old houses entwined with grape vines, rise skyscrapers and glass office buildings. The addresses of the streets are so chaotically arranged that even locals found it difficult to help point out the one we were looking for. But Georgians are very polite and they tried their best to help us. When we finally arrived at the modern apartment building where we were staying, we discovered that the entrance was unfinished – with plastered concrete and unadorned parquet floor. The flat we rented, on the other hand, was earnestly and tastefully decorated.

Rustaveli Avenue in Tbilisi could be a Parisian boulevard, but with a southern accent, decorated with majestic trees and numerous flowers. The avenue was built upon the order of Mikhail Vorontsov, the tsarist governor, who with equal grace systematically developed Tbilisi as well as pacifying the northern Caucasus. On the avenue, we found a little bookshop snuggled in a courtyard behind a building. It looked like a stationery shop crossed with an antique bookshop, with a very small selection of books, mainly in Russian. Other bookshops in the centre of the capital looked similar.

But what can we say about the famous pro-West direction of the country? It was something that was not grandly visible to us. There is a lot of Russian, Turkish and Arabic influence in the capital, but very little that is recognisable as Western European. The luxurious Agmashenebeli Avenue, which is located near the city centre, was remastered by the Turks. The highest skyscraper in the city has an Arabic owner. What is more, there are no Western European banks to be found and currency exchange dealers, aside from western currency and the rouble, offer services for Turkish and Arabic visitors, mainly from the monarchies of the Persian Gulf.

To slay a dragon

Rustaveli Avenue and Freedom Square were the scenes of many dramatic events in recent Georgian history. In the spring of 1989 the Soviet army brutally crushed a Georgian pro-independence demonstration. In the autumn of 1991 the avenue was the arena of a civil war between adherents and antagonists of President Zviad Gamsakhurdia. In 2003 Freedom Square was the hub of the Rose Revolution and in 2008 was the main site of the rally against Russian aggression, which also saw visits from leaders of Poland, Ukraine and the Baltic states. In the middle of the square, which used to be named after the Stalinist executioner Lavrentiy Beria, stands a giant column with the gilded statue of the Georgian emblem – St George slaying a dragon. Today, a different life pulsates here: near Freedom Square there is a restaurant called Warszawa, offering Polish cuisine and appetizers from Poznań, a favourite hangout for Poles and local hipsters. On Kote Abkhazi Street there is also the “Polska lodziarnia” (Polish ice cream parlour).

Tbilisi’s old city is not very big. Its narrow streets and devious alleys are lined with tiny houses (many of which are in bad condition) and wooden balconies overgrown with grapevines and flowers. In Georgian oriental or Western European style cafés you can communicate in Russian or English. It is clear that Georgians know how to enjoy life. Waiting for clients, some taxi drivers were dancing to folk music blasting from their cars while others flirted with tourists near the café.

On the weekend in the Saburtalo neighbourhood where we were staying, a temporary fair was erected. The police meandered among the booths, keeping order. The main products for sale were meat, cheese, bottles of homemade wine and chacha (vodka made from grapes) sold in excessive amounts, some fruit – mostly pomegranates, limes and persimmon. The sale of vegetables was less common. We were surprised by the limited choice of goods and how despite that fact, Georgians are able to prepare such good food.

Dear freedom

For the citizens of Paris or Barcelona, Slovakia is almost as far away as Asia. Yet for Georgians, it is the heart of Europe. At the railway station in the Slovak town of Humenné we were greeted by a monument of Švejk – the “good soldier” stands next to the platform from where he once left for Lviv. Here is one of the central points of the international tourist trail following “The adventures of the Good Soldier Švejk”, which passes through Austria, Hungary, the Czech Republic, Poland and Ukraine. Švejk is not only a Czech hero, Slovaks also consider him their man.

Humenné is a historical treasure from several epochs: Austro-Hungarian, pre-Second World War, the communist period as well as current times. Gaudily painted housing blocks (chaotically saturated with advertisements) find themselves among the grey and neglected, but still elegant, buildings from the start of the 20th century. The giant monument at the beginning of the “freedom walk” indicates that this freedom was brought by the Red Army. The monument depicts two Slovaks with a Soviet soldier, proudly carry a flag. The inscription readers: “freedom given is precious, but freedom fought for is much dearer”. Behind the monument lies the flamboyant palace of the Hungarian magnate dominating over the park. The Hungarians ruled Slovakia for 1,000 years when the territory was called Upper Hungary. The city’s population was of mixed nationalities, with a large number of Germans and Jews. In the countryside the feudal Hungarians ruled over the Slovak peasants.

Like Georgia, Slovakia is also a wine country. The historical region of Zemplin, where Humenné is located, is home to many Tokaj wineries. Tokaj grapes took to the local volcanic black earth as well as the warm climate since Roman times. French kings and Turkish sultans alike were fond of the wine. Today, according to EU patent law, Tokaj wine can be made in the Zemplin region if Slovak wines (using the label Tokaj) pass strict Hungarian standards.

Valley of death

The Slovak village of Osadné is located about 20 kilometres from Snina, high in the Carpathian Mountains near the border with Poland. Osadné became famous thanks to visits by a local leader, an Orthodox priest, and Fedor Vico (a Ruthenian caricature artist), to Brussels in order to seek funding for the village. These are also the heroes of a 2009 Czech-Slovak documentary film Osadné. Pickled with the characteristic Czechoslovak sense of humour, the film was recognised, among others, at the festival in Karlovy Vary. The film can be seen as a kind of metaphor of the Danube states, which play between The Third Rome (Moscow) and the fourth one (Brussels).

On a hill in Osadné sits a white Orthodox church. Under the church lies an open crypt which houses human skulls. Around 1,025 soldiers are buried here, mainly Russian, from the First World War – specifically the Carpathian operation of the Southwestern Front in 1915 (there is even a dedicated website: www.krypta.sk). The crypt was renovated at the expense of the Russian Embassy in 2003. During the 2005 commemorations, the Russian foreign minister, Sergey Lavrov, in a letter thanked the citizens of the village and the priest for taking care of the remains of the killed Russian soldiers. A similar letter hangs near the crypt, with thanks on behalf of the Taurida Centre of Military History of Crimea in Simferopol. Among the lost soldiers, many had come from the Taurida Governorate (today’s Crimea). Clearly, Russia is doing a lot in order to maintain its influence in the region.

The biggest attraction in the area of Svidnik, roughly 70 kilometres west of Osadné, is what is called the “valley of death”, near the village of Kapišová. The communist authorities of Czechoslovakia, in memory of a great tank battle here, erected a row of T-34 tanks to replace the wrecked ones that stood for some time after the war. This exposition is part of the “Micro-region of the valley of death”. The tanks are in good condition – newly depicted stars shine from a distance. The entrance to the valley is decorated with a monument illustrating a Soviet tank ramming a German one. On the eve of May 8th, somebody even fastened a St. George’s ribbon to the Soviet tank. That was the first paradox we observed on our journey: in Slovakia (an EU country) there is more of a Russian presence than in Georgia, a post-Soviet state that is far away from EU membership. Our expectations, as we were preparing our journey, were quite the opposite.

Relicts of socialism

Slovakia and Georgia are very different in many respects. Yet in some ways they are also like twins. They have a similar surface area and population size as well as a common, though different, experience of communism. Slovaks and Georgians are generally creative and proud of their identity. During communist period both countries focussed on their agricultural industry, which created greater problems during the transformation and later the global financial crisis.

Both countries now strongly focus on tourism. Mountains are also an important element to both identities. They appear in the national anthems of both of states. Georgian wines have been known since ancient times, while Slovaks promote their wine to even wider markets.

In both countries there are visible relicts of social realism and they both remain in the orbit of Russian influence. In this century Georgia has tried to dissociate itself from its Soviet heritage while for Slovaks this is less of a priority. An important part of the National Museum in Tbilisi is an exhibition devoted to the Soviet occupation, where Georgians blame Russians for communism’s misfortune. In eastern Slovakia there are still plenty of monuments glorifying the Soviet army, with streets still named after Soviet heroes. Certainly in both of these countries tourism has openly embraced guests from Russia (and their fat wallets).

Hence as we observed, one can be a part of the EU without having undergone a full level of de-communisation. It would appear that Europe is not only identified with certain standards of living, but also with an open space determined by a cultural horizon.

Translated by Monika Szafrańska

Katarina Novikova is a PhD candidate at the institute of religious studies of the Jagiellonian University in Kraków. She is a freelance translator and journalist and co-ordinator of the Interdisciplinary scientific and cultural project – (Post)socialist City (Kraków-Kyiv).

Wiktor Trybus is a blogger and freelance journalist. He is a graduate of Ukrainian Studies at the Jagiellonian University and of history at Rzeszów University.

This piece originally appeared in New Eastern Europe issue 5/2017.

Georgia, post-communist, Slovakia, transformation