Climate protection or Kremlin aid? Germany and Georgia's 'useful idiots' in Putin's energy trap

The images are similar: outraged citizens on the streets, placards against a major project, slogans for the environment and health. In Georgia, it was the uprising against the Namakhvani hydroelectric power plant; in Germany, the decades-long protest against nuclear power. Both movements were considered morally justified resistance. Yet ironically, they proved – whether consciously or unconsciously – to be a welcome boost for Russian interests. By preventing domestic energy projects, they increased their countries' dependence on energy imports, particularly from Russia. This article examines the background to both protests, their impact on energy independence, and the question of the extent to which Moscow benefited as the laughing third party. It also cautiously discusses the suspicion that not only radical groups in Georgia, but also state actors may have facilitated Russia's agenda through passivity or covert networks. A sarcastic and analytical look at the parallels and ruptures between two protest cultures that hardly seem more different – yet ultimately had a similar outcome.

Background: Protests in Georgia and Germany

Georgia – "Save the Rioni Valley": In the fall of 2020, resistance to the planned Namakhvani Dam on the Rioni River formed in western Georgia. What began as a local protest by a few dozen residents grew into a nationwide movement within months. Tens of thousands gathered for large rallies in Kutaisi and Tbilisi, led by young activists like Varlam Goletiani. Their criticism focused on ecological risks—the earthquake-prone area that would be flooded—as well as the lack of transparency and dubious contractual terms with the Turkish-Norwegian investor Enka Renewables. In fact, the $800 million contract was initially kept secret and only made public after pressure from protests; many citizens felt ignored. The protest camp in the Rioni Valley evolved into a grassroots movement called "Rioni Valley Guardians," supported by a broad spectrum of people: from environmentalists and pro-EU liberals to nationalists and church supporters. This ideological heterogeneity was both the movement's strength and its Achilles heel. The leaders repeatedly emphasized their peaceful course and distanced themselves from party politics. Their goal, they emphasized, was not a coup, but rather the annulment of the Namakhvani project contracts and a halt to construction. In mid-2021, the pressure seemed to have an effect: The government froze the project, and in September 2021, Enka Renewables terminated the contract – Georgia's largest hydropower project to date was put on hold.

Germany – Anti-nuclear from Wyhl to the present day: Protests against nuclear energy have a long tradition in Germany . As early as the 1970s, citizens in Wyhl in southern Baden occupied the construction site of a planned nuclear power plant and prevented the project from going ahead – marking the birth of the anti-nuclear movement. After the Chernobyl nuclear disaster in 1986, the movement gained massive support; hundreds of thousands took to the streets to protest against nuclear power. Alliance 90/The Greens, founded in 1980 as an anti-nuclear and environmental party, carried this sentiment into parliament. The demand “Nuclear power? No thanks!” became mainstream and was heard across party lines, particularly after Fukushima in 2011 , when the German government under Angela Merkel decided to phase out nuclear power. The last three German reactors were shut down in 2022 – or at least that was the plan. But here the downside becomes apparent: Nuclear power , which once supplied more than a third of Germany's electricity, was to be reduced to 0% , even though its replacement with renewable energies was still patchy. Natural gas was relied upon as a "bridging technology," which later proved to be a fatal mistake.

Impact on energy independence

The consequences of both protest successes only became fully apparent with a delay – and fell on fertile ground in Moscow.

In Georgia, Namakhvani was intended to significantly increase domestic electricity production and make the country less dependent on imported electricity. The plant would have covered around 12% of Georgia's electricity needs. But without this expansion, Georgia would remain dependent on foreign energy. In previous winters, Tbilisi had already imported significant amounts of electricity – including from Russia. President Salome Zurabishvili warned in 2020 that Georgia "must not again become hostage to foreign energy suppliers."

Georgia remains dependent on Russian imported electricity, and its overall dependence remains "high." In other words, the protest movement has – unintentionally – promoted Russia's strategic goal of keeping Georgia energy dependent.

Germany also fell into a similar trap. The applauded nuclear phase-out made the country nuclear-free , but by no means energy self-sufficient . Since renewable energies could not immediately compensate for the loss of nuclear power, the share of fossil fuels rose again. Natural gas in particular was seen as a clean interim solution - a large part of it came from Russia via pipelines such as Nord Stream . Before the Ukraine war in 2022, Germany obtained over 55% of its gas from Russia . The consequences were explosive: Berlin financed Putin's state budget with billions of euros annually and made itself vulnerable to blackmail. "The nuclear phase-out without a Plan B has increased Germany's dependence on Russian gas," states the renowned Breakthrough Institute . When the Kremlin used gas supplies as a means of pressure in 2022, it became clear how vulnerable German energy policy was. Ironically, the anti-nuclear movement, which once opposed military dependence on the Eastern Bloc (nuclear weapons), had now helped establish economic dependence on post-Soviet Russia. The bill came in 2022/23 in the form of exploding energy prices and cold living rooms: Germany paid the price for a well-intentioned but strategically naive energy policy.

Moscow's long hand: Russia's role and possible influence

In light of these results, the question arises: Was this coincidence – or a calculated move by the Kremlin? One thing is certain: Moscow had a tremendous interest in keeping both Georgia and Germany energetically dependent on it. And historical examples show that the Russian (and previously Soviet) leadership repeatedly attempted to influence Western protest movements in its favor.

As early as the 1980s, the KGB used numerous front organizations and disinformation campaigns to fuel anti-nuclear sentiment in the West – at that time, the focus was primarily on the stationing of US nuclear weapons in Europe and the peace movement. West German intelligence agencies and even the FBI concluded that pro-Soviet organizations were successfully “diverting” local initiatives so that the protests were directed against the West rather than Soviet missiles. True to Lenin’s dictum of the useful idiot, Moscow knew how to infiltrate genuine grassroots movements or at least use them for propaganda purposes. Of course, the KGB did not invent the West German anti-nuclear movement – environmental protection had genuinely democratic roots. But Moscow quickly realized that a German society that outlawed nuclear power would have to import more gas and oil for the foreseeable future. The Soviet Union had been supplying Germany with natural gas on a large scale since the 1980s – a business that filled its foreign currency coffers. It is therefore little wonder that Putin's Russia continued similar tactics. In 2014, NATO Secretary General Anders Fogh Rasmussen revealed that there was evidence that Russia was supporting European environmental NGOs in their fight against fracking in order to cement dependence on Russian gas. "Russia is actively involved with so-called non-governmental organizations – environmental organizations that work against shale gas – in order to maintain European import dependence," said Rasmussen. He did not name names, but the Kremlin did not deny the allegations too vehemently. Similar allegations were made in Washington that Gazprom funds were flowing to US foundations that published anti-fracking studies. The Kremlin may be ideologically flexible – but when it comes to gas exports, it is no joke.

In the Georgian context, a parallel is obvious. While there is no hard evidence of direct Russian control of the Namakhvani protests, various indications suggest that Moscow at least provided propaganda support – and local pro-Russian networks eagerly participated. For example, in the spring of 2021, dozens of dubious Facebook pages suddenly spread disinformation about the Rioni Valley movement. The pages had patriotic-sounding names and sometimes imitated the activists' official channels to create confusion. At the same time, notable allies jumped on the protest bandwagon: Ultranationalist and anti-Western groups in Georgia declared their solidarity with Namakhvani's opponents. These included circles around the far-right businessman Levan Vasadze and the notorious Alt-Info network, known for its pro-Russian incitement. In their rhetoric, the environmental issue quickly became a national defensive battle : against foreign (read: Turkish) investors, against the "sell-out" of the homeland, against an energy industry allegedly dictated by the West. Turkey – with a 90% majority shareholder in Enka Renewables – was portrayed as an enemy, which was exactly in line with Russian influence: Moscow has been fueling anti-Turkish resentment in the South Caucasus for years in order to divide the NATO state of Turkey and Georgia. It is therefore hardly surprising that the Kremlin publicly applauded the Georgian right-wing opposition party Alliance of Patriots (AoP) in 2020 when it demanded that Tbilisi pursue a "neutral" course towards Moscow and slow down Western integration – Russian officials openly welcomed the AoP's "rapprochement" with their position. This same AoP attracted attention during the 2020/21 election campaign with a hate-filled campaign against Turkish investments: ISFED , a Georgian election monitoring NGO, documented how the AoP distributed anti-Turkish ads and banners filled with disinformation about alleged Turkish land grabs. One AoP poster even suggested that Turkey wanted to take over half of Georgia – it had to be removed after protests; Georgian media subsequently bluntly labeled the AoP a "pro-Kremlin party."

In this heated environment, the Namakhvani activists attempted to distance themselves from xenophobic and pro-Russian currents, emphasizing that they were fighting solely against an ecologically and socially incompatible project, not against a specific country or against "the West." However, the simultaneity of the events remained striking: When Vasadze organized a large-scale ultranationalist "anti-LGBT and anti-government" march in May 2021, rumors promptly circulated on social media that the march and the Namakhvani demonstration were being orchestrated by the same mastermind. Facebook advertising posts from a page called "Patriot Union Iberia" showed Goletiani and Vasadze side by side and declared: "Our enemy wants to separate these two rallies... for Rioni, for Georgia, for God - we start on the 16th and continue on the 23rd!" This conflation of agendas has been beneficial, at least from the Russian perspective: In the eyes of many citizens, the legitimate environmental movement has been contaminated with the stench of extremism and foreign-funded conspiracy. The result: trust in NGOs, pro-Western actors, and even green energy projects has been damaged in parts of Georgian society—which, in turn, plays into the hands of forces close to the Kremlin.

Institutional deficiencies in Georgia: breeding ground for influence

How did it come to this? A look at Georgia's institutions reveals structural weaknesses that have encouraged—and exploited—protest dynamics like Namakhvani's.

First, there is a lack of transparency and dialogue . The Namakhvani project was prepared behind closed doors for years. When details of the contract became known, there was great outrage: the foreign investor was to receive comprehensive guarantees and subsidies, while ecological assessments remained incomplete. This lack of transparency created the perfect breeding ground for rumors and conspiracy theories. Even the Vice President of the European Parliament, Heidi Hautala of the European Greens, criticized "the shocking lack of transparency and accountability in the secret contracts" surrounding Namakhvani in June 2021. When even allies in the West use such strong language, it testifies to serious governance deficits. The Georgian government failed to speak openly and early on with the population and experts about the benefits and risks of the project. Instead, it attempted to fabricate facts – an approach that quickly increases suspicion in a young democracy, especially towards a project with such significant economic and geographical impact.

Secondly, the Namakhvani case highlights a problem of trust in state institutions . Many Georgians distrust authorities, courts, and even the police when it comes to large-scale projects – there have been far too many scandals involving corruption and nepotism. This came to a head in the Rioni Valley: residents complained that they were only allowed to enter their own villages with police permission because checkpoints had been set up around the construction site. Such measures – presumably intended to secure the project – seemed to the people like a state of occupation and fueled resistance. The fact that the government finally agreed to negotiations with the activists and imposed a construction freeze as the protest grew speaks volumes for the effectiveness of democratic protest. But at the same time, the impression arose that the authorities had no Plan B : neither a convincing communications strategy nor institutional mechanisms (such as transparent environmental impact assessments or comprehensive citizen participation) were in place to resolve the conflict in a civilized manner. This institutional vacuum could easily be filled by external actors: Pro-Russian media had the opportunity to impose their own interpretation of the events – unfiltered in social networks where the state lacks control.

Third, security gaps are emerging regarding extremism and disinformation . Georgia's authorities have repeatedly hesitated or failed to crack down on known anti-democratic groups – especially those claiming to be "patriotic." For example, the aforementioned Alt-Info group was allowed to spread pro-Kremlin propaganda for years and was instrumental in the violent attacks on journalists and LGBT activists on July 5, 2021, without its ringleaders being consistently held accountable. The fact that Alt-Info and its collaborators were able to pose as supporters of the Namakhvani protests is also a result of this state policy of looking the other way . Critics complain that the government allows right-wing gangs to act as long as they attack opponents of the government (e.g., liberal NGOs or opposition media) – a short-sighted calculation, as in the long run it only strengthens the Kremlin's agenda of entrenching anti-Western attitudes in Georgia. This reveals glaring institutional deficiencies: Georgia neither has a robust strategy to counter disinformation, nor have its security authorities been sufficiently empowered to systematically detect and combat hybrid influence (whether from Russia or elsewhere).

Standing still or keeping the stirrups? The Georgian government under criticism

The role of the Georgian government in the Namakhvani complex is complex – and raises uncomfortable questions. On the one hand, the Georgian Dream (GD) government consistently emphasizes that it wanted to strengthen the country's energy security with Namakhvani and regrets the failure. On the other hand, it appears as if Tbilisi has done remarkably little to fend off Russian attempts to influence the protests. Observers suspect that the government – whether due to incompetence , tactical silence , or even hidden networks – ultimately benefited rather than harmed Moscow's interests. This theory cannot be proven beyond doubt, but some evidence fuels the suspicion:

For one thing, the government adopted a surprisingly lenient tone toward the clearly pro-Russian provocateurs. While Western-oriented activists and NGOs were frequently denounced as "troublemakers," hardliners like Vasadze and Alt-Info remained unchallenged for a long time. One could put it pointedly: harshness toward pro-Western criticism, leniency toward pro-Russian agitation – a pattern that Georgia's opposition has long accused the GD government of.

Furthermore, the government leadership conspicuously shifted its focus to blaming Western actors . In February 2023, GD head Kobachidze trumpeted that foreign NGOs—primarily the European Endowment for Democracy (EED) , a foundation close to the EU, and even Finnish Green MEP Heidi Hautala herself—may have “directed” the Namakhvani protest in order to sabotage Georgia’s energy plans. He failed to provide any evidence, but the thrust was clear: the enemy (from the GD’s perspective) is in the West, not the East. While Kobachidze at least admitted that “there may have been interest on the part of the Russian side,” he placed far greater emphasis on alleged Western “agents” pulling the strings behind the scenes. This argument – familiar from Orban's Hungary "foreign agent" (anti-NGO) law – fits remarkably well with Kremlin propaganda, which generally defames pro-Western civil society as a fifth column. The fact that the Georgian government opened such a rhetorical front against Western partners instead of investigating possible Russian infiltration of the protests is revealing. Some wonder whether Tbilisi was deliberately throwing up smokescreens to conceal actual interference from Moscow – a theory that is almost impossible to verify due to the lack of transparency of the intelligence apparatus. But even if there was no sinister intent behind it, this focus was at least tactically unwise : It further alienated Georgia from sympathetic voices in the EU (Hautala, for example, spoke of "worrying events" in Georgia) and is likely to make the Kremlin rejoice at how Tbilisi was falling out with Brussels instead of making common cause against Moscow.

Last but not least, the timing of this change of course with other controversial policy changes by Georgia is striking. While the West implemented one sanctions package after another following Russia's invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Georgia's government refused to impose harsh sanctions against Moscow – officially to protect its own economy, but in practice entirely in line with the Kremlin's wishes. Members of parliament from the GD caused a stir with their anti-Western remarks; in March 2023, the government presented a draft "agent law" based on the Russian model (it was only withdrawn after mass protests). The energy sector fits seamlessly into this picture: Instead of using the Namakhvani setback as a wake-up call, Tbilisi did not push ahead with any new energy independence projects; instead, it sold the planned Nenskra dam to a dubious consortium in 2022 and remained on the Gazprom course in gas purchases. Taken together, Western diplomats get the impression that the Georgian government is wary of a genuine break with Moscow —even if it means sacrificing strategic interests. Tbilisi, of course, denies any suggestion that it is doing Russia's bidding. But as the saying goes, "You shall know them by their actions." The actions (and inactions) in the Namakhvani case speak for themselves, which critics could interpret as "tacit support."

Protest movement under the microscope: Pro-Russian connections and questionable aspects

As idealistic and citizen-oriented as many protests begin, they are not immune to attempts at influence. In Georgia, as in Germany, there were currents within the movements that exhibited at least questionable connections or ideological overlaps with pro-Russian actors .

In Georgia , for example, this was evident in the way Namakhvani activists dealt with right-wing extremist free riders . Initially, Goletiani and his colleagues emphasized the non-partisan, inclusive nature of their protest: They united urban liberals and conservative farmers under the common goal of protecting the Rioni Valley. But by the summer of 2021, cracks had begun to appear. When the Georgian capital celebrated Pride Week in July, radical homophobe groups struck. And who surprisingly showed up at the "prayer protest" against Pride organized by the Orthodox clergy? Leading figures of the Rioni Valley movement, of all people. Varlam Goletiani and his colleagues stood side by side with ultra-conservative priests – just as the latter were stirring up the climate against Western values with inflammatory rhetoric. Although Goletiani subsequently distanced himself from the violence perpetrated by right-wing extremists on July 5, claiming that they had "only responded to the call of the Church," two prominent partner NGOs (Social Justice Center and Green Alternative) nevertheless found their world shattering: They ended their alliance with the Rioni activists, arguing that they had "sided with anti-democratic and inhumane forces." Such incidents fuel suspicions that anti-Western tendencies were tacitly operating within the protest movement. Indeed, some activists employed conservative narratives; in one statement, the movement committee claimed, for example, that LGBT issues were being misused in Georgia as a "tool of political blackmail"—rhetoric entirely in keeping with Russian culture war propaganda. It is important to emphasize that the core of the Namakhvani movement was not a Kremlin product, but arose from legitimate local concerns. But by not distancing themselves clearly enough from radical nationalist forces, they put their own credibility at risk.

Some public figures in Georgia also contribute to such doubts. One example is Varlam Liparteliani – a name that curiously comes up in this context. Liparteliani is actually a Georgian judo hero and 2016 Olympic medalist. After his sporting career, he switched to politics and initially sat in parliament for the ruling Georgian Dream party. In February 2025, however, he left the GD majority to form a new faction called "European Socialists" together with Fridon Injia – a veteran, pro-Russian politician. This faction traces its roots directly to the aforementioned Alliance of Patriots, the pro-Kremlin party that attracted attention with its anti-Turkey agitation. The fact that a prominent athlete and chairman of the environmental committee like Liparteliani is now involved in a political camp founded by Moscow-nostalgic hardliners raised some eyebrows in Tbilisi. This raises the question: What stance does someone like this take on Namakhvani and energy policy? Unfortunately, Liparteliani rarely comments on this publicly. But his personnel reorientation alone fuels speculation about whether networks exist behind the scenes that steer initially pro-government actors toward pro-Russian opposition projects—which, in turn, would strengthen Russia's interests in the country. There may be question marks here, but the pattern is similar to that in many post-Soviet states: Influencers , be they politicians, clergy, or celebrities, take positions that are surprisingly compatible with Russian narratives without openly committing to them.

By comparison, open pro-Sovietism played hardly any role in the German anti-nuclear movement – it was dominated by left-wing and middle-class circles that were genuinely pacifist or ecologically motivated. However, there were also individuals and groups in Germany who later turned out to be pro-Moscow . In the 1980s, for example, it became known that the DKP (a small West Communist Party) and several peace initiatives received money from East Berlin to support protests. Certain cadres of the peace movement also maintained dubious contacts with Soviet diplomats. This does not change the fact that the broad anti-nuclear movement was authentic – but it does show that the Kremlin always knew how to find points of contact . In recent times, this has been less significant, as environmental NGOs strictly maintain their independence. But one could question whether, for example, the vehement opposition to liquefied natural gas terminals in northern Germany (which would have enabled diversification away from Gazprom) didn't inadvertently strengthen Gazprom's monopoly. Even staunchly green activists can – objectively speaking – benefit Moscow without any rubles having to flow anywhere.

Comparison: Parallels and differences between protest cultures

A direct comparison of the Georgian Namakhvani movement with the German anti-nuclear movement reveals both parallels and differences:

Shared motives, shared myths: Both protests arose from legitimate concerns among the population. In Georgia, fear for a unique river landscape and skepticism towards an investor contract that was perceived as unfair; in Germany, the fear of nuclear accidents and radioactive waste. In both cases, these fears mobilized a cross-section of society – from students to grandmothers. Interestingly, both movements also fed by a certain mistrust of state authorities . Both the Georgian farmer in the Rioni Valley and the German winegrower on the Moselle felt that those at the top were making decisions over their heads. This gave rise to a culture of citizens' movements that relied on direct action (demonstrations, occupations of squares, human chains) because people did not trust the established process. But this dynamic also made it easier for third parties to influence the narrative – conspiracy theories sometimes found fertile ground. In Germany, for example, the myth that the nuclear lobby had politics and science “in its pocket” circulated for a long time. In Georgia, it was said that the hydropower deals were controlled by corrupt clans and foreign powers. Such narratives may not be entirely unfounded, but they were inflated by interested parties.

David against Goliath – and a third party laughing: In both countries, the protesters styled themselves as David fighting against the all-powerful Goliath (the state, corporations, the World Bank, etc.). This self-image helped to build stamina and morale, but harbored the danger of a certain black-and-white view . What in Georgia was the "selling out" state and the "exploitative" investor, in Germany was the "nuclear state" and the "profiteering energy corporations." There were few shades of gray in between. This was precisely where the "laughing third party" Russia could take effect: By discreetly fueling the protest, Moscow (or Soviet/Russian actors) reinforced the Goliath impression. In this way, some German opponents of nuclear power plants may have become useful to Moscow , even if they railed against Western technology (such as modern reactors) in general, but remained silent on Eastern imports. In Georgia, Russia took advantage of the protests against the Turkish company – which suited the Kremlin well given its own difficult relationship with Turkey.

Different contexts: A key difference lies in the political systems and their response. Germany is a stable democracy with a pluralistic media landscape. Here, the anti-nuclear movement eventually gained such majority support that politicians (including conservative Chancellor Merkel) embraced and implemented it. In Georgia, by contrast, democracy is younger and more fragile; the media is politicized, and institutions weak. The government was able to resort – successfully – to sitting out the protests and simultaneously discrediting them. While German politicians made concessions (e.g., anchoring the nuclear phase-out in consensus), Georgian politicians stoked doubts about the protest leaders. The result: In Germany, the movement ultimately remained an integrative part of civil society and the democratic process; in Georgia, the movement was viewed more as an extra-institutional opposition , one to clash with or divide in case of doubt. This made it easier for Russian authorities to inject poison into Georgia – the wounds of political polarization were open. In Germany, such open interference as in Georgia (fake websites, old info channels, etc.) would probably have been exposed and condemned more quickly; here, Russian influence was more subtle, more indirect, through discourse shifts that sometimes only become apparent in retrospect (just as we now recognize that the hasty gas expansion was a mistake).

Ultimately related consequences: Despite all the differences, both stories ended in an energy policy dilemma . Georgia is left without the Namakhvani stream and must hope that other projects (such as wind farms or smaller hydroelectric power plants) will fill the gap - which could take years. Germany has meanwhile learned the hard way that an energy transition without nuclear power while remaining dependent on gas from an aggressor state represents a security risk. Ironically, both Georgia and Germany are once again keen to correct course in their energy policies after Russia's war and blackmail tactics set off alarm bells. Tbilisi is trying to find new partners (such as green electricity from the EU via an undersea cable from Romania), Berlin has now built LNG terminals and is even discussing - late but still - a possible revival of nuclear power under new auspices. History shows that social protest can initiate important changes, but if it ignores strategic realities, there is a risk of jumping out of the frying pan into the fire.

Irony of history – eco-patriotic protests as Putin’s stepping stone

One could call it a bitter irony of history : movements that, in their own right, opposed dependence and foreign domination, inadvertently contributed to strengthening Russia's energy leverage in two very different countries. The Georgian "Rioni Valley rescuers" wanted to protect their homeland from flooding and arbitrary contracts – what they achieved was that Georgia had to continue importing electricity from Russia, thus losing a potential economic engine. The German anti-nuclear activists wanted to save the country from a nuclear meltdown and protect the environment – in the end, they helped prolong a fossil fuel dependence on Gazprom, which caused billions of tons of CO₂ and geopolitical headaches.

Let there be no misunderstanding: These protests were not per se "Kremlin-driven." They were an expression of the legitimate concerns of many citizens. But in geopolitical chess, the strategists in Moscow are masters at using their opponent's moves to their own advantage . When the pawn advances, the black king rejoices, as long as it puts the white king in jeopardy. Russia created neither the anti-nuclear movement in Germany nor the environmental protests in Georgia—but it benefited from both and welcomed anything that made their success more likely.

In the end, Putin and his strategists could draw a sarcastic conclusion: Why send tanks when you can send protesters? Of course, that's an exaggeration. But there's a grain of truth in it, as the Namakhvani and Anti-Nuclear cases show. In Tbilisi, some conspiracy theorists may whisper that the whole dam story was a Western plot – the facts rather suggest that the standstill on Georgia's rivers was a matter of quiet joy, especially in the Kremlin . And in Berlin, many former anti-nuclear power advocates may have begun to have quiet doubts in 2022/23 about whether they hadn't gambled a bit on the energy policy chessboard.

The lesson from both cases? Energy policy is always also security policy. Well-intentioned does not automatically mean well-executed . And not every loud protest ultimately contributes to progress – some even hinder progress, which then pleases forces that have little to do with progress. Perhaps in both cases, an honest social discourse is needed about how to take legitimate citizens' concerns seriously without falling into the traps of geopolitical rivals. Otherwise, the wrong people will end up celebrating. In this sense: protest is the spice of democracy – but let's be careful that the oligarch in the Kremlin doesn't end up spoiling the fun.