The latest chronicle of constitutional violations

The mechanism of party banning

On October 16, 2025, the Georgian Dream parliament, completely controlled by a single party, passed a package of laws in an expedited procedure. This package bans political parties and indefinitely revokes the political rights of individuals associated with them. The speed of its passage, the formulaic nature of the deliberations, and the obvious lack of substantive depth raise serious constitutional questions.

The adopted amendments fundamentally contradict those core principles of the Georgian constitution that protect political pluralism, freedom of association, and equal political participation. In essence, they serve neither to strengthen the democratic order nor to prevent real dangers. On the contrary, the law creates a legal mechanism by which political competitors can be systematically excluded from the public sphere.

On October 31 of last year, the Georgian Dream party petitioned the Constitutional Court to ban three opposition parties. The ruling party is demanding the banning of three of the four parties that cleared the electoral threshold in the 2024 parliamentary elections: Unity – National Movement, Coalition for Change – Gvaramia Melia Girchi Droa, and Strong Georgia – Lelo, For the People, For Freedom.

According to "Georgian Dream", these parties were involved in "unconstitutional acts, including sabotage against the Georgian state" and had presented themselves "with essentially identical positions for years".

Freedom of assembly as an administrative permit

(the “sidewalk case”)

The one-party-dominated parliament of "Georgian Dream" has already passed amendments to the Georgian law on assemblies and demonstrations that effectively abolish the constitutional core of freedom of assembly and transfer it to an approval regime of the Ministry of the Interior.

Under the newly passed law, participants in an assembly face up to 15 days of administrative detention, and organizers up to 20 days, if they do not accept the location or route "proposed" by the Ministry of the Interior and instead hold the demonstration at a location of their own choosing; in cases of repeated offenses, criminal prosecution is even possible. Furthermore, the law stipulates that holding a demonstration without prior authorization is no longer permitted and that this authorization will be granted exclusively by the Ministry of the Interior.

The professional sphere of judges under the conditions of a constitutional crisis

Following these extremely serious decisions, which clearly violate fundamental human rights, our editorial team deliberately chose to contact sitting judges. Not to request statements on specific cases, not regarding individual responsibility, and certainly not regarding political loyalty, but with a simple yet fundamentally important question: Is there room for professional conscience when the law itself violates the constitution?

It must be emphasized that the editorial team's request does not pertain to comments on ongoing proceedings, preliminary assessments of decisions, or political statements. Georgian law does indeed restrict judges from publicly commenting on specific cases. However, this restriction does not extend to general, academic, and constitutional considerations that are unrelated to a specific case, party, or outcome.

Judges have the full right, without violating the law, to speak about general principles: about the importance of freedom of assembly in a democratic society, about the primacy of the constitution over ordinary laws, about the standards of the European Convention on Human Rights, or about the role of independent courts under authoritarian tendencies. This is not political activism. It is the foundation of the legal profession.

In other words, a judge can explain what a constitutional state means without saying how they would decide a specific case. One can talk about rights without mentioning the government.

However, when even such neutral and general questions are met with silence, it is no longer a matter of individual reticence. It is a systemic signal – an indication that the justice system is not only legally, but also mentally, trapped in a space where even speaking about law is perceived as a risk.

Tbilisi24 asks – the court remains silent

As part of our research, we contacted several sitting judges to clarify whether they could at least take a general position on obvious violations of the constitution.

Supreme Court Justice Tamar Zambakhidze declined an interview and ended the conversation by hanging up. This behavior requires no further explanation. Silence here is not an expression of neutrality, but rather self-protection – in a situation where an answer is perceived as a risk and answering a question as an unwelcome responsibility.

We also approached Judge Tamar Khajomia for an interview. She maintained a formally correct communication framework but refrained from any evaluation or expert explanation. Questions regarding serious constitutional violations, restrictions on freedom of assembly, and the role of the judiciary remained unanswered. Polite silence transformed into substantive emptiness – an emptiness that has become a familiar hallmark of the Georgian judiciary.

Given that the decision to ban political parties is not merely a restriction, but rather a systemic abolition of the democratic order and directly shapes the political future of the country, we also addressed our inquiry to a judge of the Constitutional Court: Giorgi Kverenchkhiladze.

“Don’t exaggerate” as the language of the system

Our communication with Mr. Kverenchkhiladze was completely unexpected. He verbally insulted our journalist. In response to a general, non-case-specific question about unconstitutional laws, he replied curtly and sharply: "Don't exaggerate." In the same context, he also questioned the journalist's professionalism.

This incident is significant not only because of its tone, but above all because of its content. When a judge of the Constitutional Court dismisses a critical question as "exaggeration" or "noise," it is no longer merely an individual emotional reaction. It is systemic language—a language in which the question is considered dissonance and the demand for explanation a disruption of order.

Mr. Kverenchkhiladze is clearly aware of what he is signing and the consequences this has for the legal and political reality of the country. Against this backdrop, criticism is no longer an abstract debate, but also touches upon personal responsibility.

Kafka's "The Trial" as everyday practice

This answer, and the state of the justice system as a whole, inevitably reminded us of Kafka's "The Trial" – not as a literary metaphor, but as an everyday institutional reality in which the procedure is always right and the question is always superfluous.

Under such conditions, what emerges is what could be called the "collective Kverenchkhiladze": not an individual judge, but a type. A functionary who no longer expresses an individual opinion, but precisely executes the logic of the system. His dissenting voice can be recorded, but never changes the outcome; criticism is only permissible as long as it does not transform into a decision.

In Kafka's novel, the court is faceless. In today's Georgian reality, it has faces, but its function remains the same: responsibility is dispersed, decisions always belong to the "system," while specific individuals merely sign off on them. Thus, the judge does not become an independent arbiter, but rather part of a collective mechanism—a collective Kverenchkhiladze.

When resistance is a choice

The case of Udo Gemballa serves as a reminder of a simple yet uncomfortable truth: even in authoritarian systems, there is a choice – it's just often expensive. In the 1950s, Gemballa worked as a judge at the Teterow District Court. The ruling Socialist Unity Party (SED) believed he had not taken a "sufficiently stance" against the party in several rulings. Consequently, he was temporarily removed from his judgeship, taken into custody, and in November 1958 sentenced to one and a half years in prison for "agitation endangering the state." The justification for the verdict was explicitly political: Gemballa was portrayed as a "propagandist of capitalist conditions" and an "opponent of socialist development."

In this story, not only the facts are crucial, but also the underlying logic: The system reacts particularly harshly when a judge doesn't content themselves with a formal role, but actually fulfills their professional responsibility. This is precisely where the parallel to the present day lies. If a judge recognizes that a norm contradicts the constitution, often only two options remain: silence and formal consent, or professional resistance within the remaining legal avenues.

In the Kverentschiladze case, the already documented dissenting positions indicate that certain elements of free speech exist. However, as long as this voice doesn't translate from the safe confines of the record into actual action, the system always offers the most convenient option: "Say your opinion, but sign anyway in the end." The Gemballa example marks precisely this boundary: resistance only gains significance when it is more than just text—and when it includes the real risk of losing one's own comfort.