Katharina Blum in Tbilisi: How to turn criticism into sabotage

How a petition is declared “sabotage” – and the government removes its critics from civil service

On August 9, former civil servants in Tbilisi—many of whom once worked in the Georgian Foreign Ministry—marched through the streets under the European flag. Their common denominator: They had paid the price for a political commitment. In recent months, numerous ministry employees working on EU integration lost their jobs after signing a petition against Prime Minister Irakli Kobakhidze's November 28 announcement to suspend accession efforts until 2028. A speech that has since fueled nationwide protests.

Among those dismissed: Giga Sopromadze , founder and board member of the professional association "Constitutional Article 78" and former executive secretary of the Tbilisi City Council for Disability Issues. Sopromadze claimed his dismissal was on the direct orders of Mayor Kacha Kaladze – allegedly at the instigation of the head of the city's health and social services department. Several other council employees were also forced to leave. Sopromadze sees a clear political motivation.

Public stigmatization instead of arguments

The reason was simple: We had signed and distributed the petition against Kobakhidze's statement. Of course, we protested—as we did during the first reading of the so-called 'Russian law.' The petitions weren't a centrally coordinated action, but a spontaneous reaction, he says.

Just a few days later, Kaladze publicly branded the petition as "sabotage" and an "attempted coup" – with the unequivocal promise that there would be consequences. The public stigmatization of the signatories is inevitably reminiscent of Heinrich Böll's "The Lost Honor of Katharina Blum": There, too, a person's life is destroyed by the mechanisms of a cartel of power and opinion because a private decision is transformed into a public scandal. In Tbilisi, this time it's not tabloids, but official statements that are stylizing critical officials as "enemies" of the city.

Reports of intimidation against signatories soon followed. Some withdrew their signatures under pressure. Mamuka Mdinaradze, parliamentary group leader of the ruling party, pointedly declared that it was irrelevant whether someone withdrew their signature.

Threats behind closed doors

"It was a clear threat," Sopromadze recalls. Initially, there were internal calls: people were told to withdraw their signatures in order to keep their jobs. Then reports emerged from various authorities – including the Tbilisi City Council – that department heads had been instructed to suppress protests among employees. The goal: to get as many retractions as possible. "Dozens told us they could no longer withstand the pressure from above."

The case is just one piece of a larger pattern: As a critical opponent of the "Russian law," Sopromadze had already been targeted before the petition – bonuses were canceled, duties were withdrawn, and meetings were held without him. The legislative amendment presented by Mdinaradze in December to "simplify" reorganizations ultimately gave the government the ideal leverage: Since the beginning of 2025, dismissals, demotions, and conversions of permanent contracts to fixed-term contracts have followed. Another amendment prohibited courts from reinstating those unlawfully dismissed after reorganizations.

“This effectively prohibits the courts from restoring justice,” says Sopromadze.

The weakest first

The pressure even extended to family members: those who worked in government agencies or were legally vulnerable were warned that there would be consequences if their signature was not withdrawn.

Particularly shameful, according to Sopromadze, are the attacks on the most vulnerable: A sign language interpreter who had translated live government sessions for eleven years was dismissed – without timely notice, making it impossible to file a lawsuit. For months, there was no translation. A visually impaired employee was placed in a lower-paying position – effectively a forced dismissal. Parents with four children, women on maternity leave, and mothers with young children were also affected.

Sopromadze deliberately chose to go to court rather than through the ombudsman: the process before the public defender's office delays legal action, and his case goes beyond discrimination. Dozens of others have filed complaints; in one case, discrimination has already been officially established.

Why staying matters

"Next, we'll take the cases to court. At the same time, we're working on public relations, engaging with international organizations, and providing evidence to enforce sanctions against those responsible."

How can dissident officials survive?

"It is crucial that officials of integrity remain in their positions. When they leave, they will be replaced by obedient partisans—not based on qualifications, but on loyalty."

As an example, Sopromadze cites an employee with 38 years of experience in the city's Office of International Relations who didn't retract her signature – after which the entire office was abolished. "That says it all about the priorities in international work."

The message to other departments is clear: Anyone who objects will be dealt with – whether in health, social affairs or transport.

“Nothing works without us”

Sopromadze reminds us that the administration is the backbone of the state:

"No order from Kobakhidze exists until an official writes, stamps, and sends it. Without us, ministers, mayors, and MPs are powerless."

The strategy is therefore clear: organize, refuse illegal orders, defend sovereignty.

"We sacrificed incomes, careers, and futures—but not our dignity. There are lines that must not be crossed. We can argue about bus colors, about programs too—but not about independence, sovereignty, and the well-being of the citizens."

In the end, he comes to a sober conclusion:

"If more had signed, the government wouldn't have dared to reorganize. What counts now is discussion, unity, and solidarity."