Systemic Blindness Among Lawyers

In a country where the law is visibly bent and “legality” is all too often used as the opposite of justice, society’s attention naturally turns to those who are supposed to be responsible for protection: lawyers and jurists. By the very nature of the profession, a lawyer is not merely a service provider, but an institutional counterweight to state power—a mechanism that shields civil rights from abuse and makes it possible for “law” to be more than just paper. That is precisely why the legal voice in times of crisis is not optional; it is essential.

Yet in Georgia’s recent reality, the opposite dynamic has become impossible to ignore. Not because there are “no lawyers,” but because institutions that should guarantee independence have conspicuously chosen silence and conformity. This silence no longer looks like an accident or a single misjudgment. It has turned into a systemic pattern in which professional dignity thins out and institutional trust erodes step by step.

The Bar Association as an Object of Control

At least in theory, the Bar Association should be the backbone of the profession: a space where lawyers defend their independence, resist pressure from above, and ensure compliance with professional standards. When the leadership neither demonstrates critical distance nor visible commitment to principles, the institution loses its core function. What remains of self-governance is merely a shell.

The widespread perception that the Bar’s leadership behaves conformistically and acts as a transmission belt “from above” does not concern only one person. It describes an institutional experience: the Bar is read as an obedient structure rather than an autonomous professional body. Under such conditions, it is no longer a symbol of protection for citizens. It becomes just another formal name without real responsibility.

Legal Aid and the Pattern of Depoliticization

This pattern has been especially clear in the handling of the independence of the state legal aid service. The service was designed as an independent structure accountable to Parliament. Its director was elected by a council of nine members that included different stakeholders: representatives of the Bar Association, civil society organizations, the Public Defender, and a representative of the Ministry of Justice. The decisive votes—according to the logic of the model—rested with the legal profession. That proportion was meant to safeguard independence.

The legal aid service provides free legal support for vulnerable beneficiaries. It was established in July 2007 and covers large parts of Georgia through legal aid bureaus and consultation centers.

This is not a marginal issue. It is a fundamental building block of access to justice—the minimal prerequisite without which any “rule of law” turns into a social privilege.

However, under the recently initiated legislative package in Parliament, the center of control is shifting. The prerogative to select the director is intended to move into the executive sphere, specifically under the authority of the Prime Minister. At the same time, the service’s accountability is meant to shift away from Parliament toward the government. This is not a technocratic adjustment, but a power transfer with predictable consequences: whoever controls leadership shapes priorities, personnel decisions, and ultimately the boundaries of what is considered “acceptable.”

The Effect of Silence

No less troubling is the quiet that has accompanied these developments. When changes are implemented in a way that weakens independence or formally restricts it, a professional response is not merely a matter of “corporate interest.” It directly concerns citizens’ right to truly independent legal assistance.

If lawyers do not publicly take a position at such a critical moment, the damage extends far beyond one institution. Silence creates the impression that the system can be reshaped without resistance. And that impression lowers the cost of future interventions: what passes without objection once becomes easier the next time. If independence is taken away and the profession meets it with silence, one simple question remains: who will protect the individual when protection is truly needed?

A Crisis of Trust and the Logical Question

Against this backdrop, a harsh but logical question arises: on what should a citizen build trust? On a Bar Association that does not visibly defend independence in practice? Or on lawyers who do not respond audibly when professional autonomy is restricted?

Trust in institutions is not an emotional category. Trust is an outcome. It emerges when principled positions, action, accountability, and public explanations are visible. When these elements are missing, trust does not disappear dramatically—it disappears rationally. In its place come cynicism, apathy, and the toxic sense that “everything is already arranged anyway.”

What an Exit Could Look Like

An exit cannot be produced by rhetoric alone, but the direction is clear. Both institutions need real renewal—away from learned conformity, away from a culture of silent adaptation, away from reflexes that resemble the administration of calm more than the defense of rights. Such a restart would have three concrete features.

First: protecting real independence in practice, not only declaring it. Second: developing and communicating public positions on critical issues—clear, reasoned, and consistent. Third: restoring professional self-respect, so that lawyers are no longer perceived as “system-compatible specialists,” but as genuine defenders of citizens’ rights.

This is not a romantic demand. It is the minimum standard of the profession. And until that minimum standard returns to legal institutions, society will remain in the familiar condition: the law is bent—and those who should defend it stay silent.