Amid anti-government protests in Tbilisi, some Georgian journalists have been removing their press jackets to avoid being deliberately targeted by riot police. While they document their country’s democratic backslide, many non-Georgian journalists in Tbilisi anxiously watch the developments unfolding in the country, fearing how this pronounced setback might shape their own futures.
Georgia had long been regarded as a beacon of democracy in the post-Soviet area and a ray of hope for the region’s future. Mostly surrounded by increasingly authoritarian states, the South Caucasus nation was seen as a haven for regional journalists fleeing prosecution in their home countries. However, the increasingly authoritarian rule of Georgia’s government has now made the country unsafe even for its journalists, as those who find themselves in exile in Georgia watch closely as events unfold in anticipation of how they will impact their reporting.
In 2024, Georgia was ranked 103rd among 180 countries in the Reporters Without Borders Index. In just one year it dropped by 26 places, marking the biggest fall registered by any country in Eastern Europe and Central Asia last year. However, in a region where freedom of speech has already been under intense pressure, this dramatic drop in press freedom has consequences extending beyond Georgia’s borders.
Due to its political environment and geography, during the period of democratic progress, Georgia attracted many journalists from the region who were escaping government, particularly from neighbouring Azerbaijan, as well as from Belarus, Russia and several Central Asian countries. Based in Tbilisi, these journalists continued their work and provided their audiences at home with alternative viewpoints that were otherwise strictly restricted within national media. But as the crackdown on local media tightens, many journalists in exile in Georgia now find themselves with nowhere to turn to.
Turning tide
Physical attacks, intimidation, verbal assaults, lack of resources, and independent funding are nothing new for journalists in Georgia. However, in recent years, these challenges have only intensified, adding to the pressure journalists face in an increasingly inhospitable climate.
“The media environment is very hostile, especially when working in the field. Whether in legal terms or during fieldwork, being a journalist in Georgia nowadays is extremely challenging,” says Mariam Nikuradze, a Georgian journalist and co-founder of OC Media, an English-language news outlet covering news from the Caucasus.
In August 2024, the Georgian authorities, in the face of mass protests, enacted the controversial law on “Transparency of Foreign Influence.” Under this legislation, media outlets and non-governmental organisations receiving more than 20 percent of their funding from abroad are required to register as agents of “foreign influence.” The law, passed mere months after Georgia achieved its long-awaited candidate status for European Union membership, marked a significant step back for the country's aspirations for Westward integration. In protest, many media outlets declined to register themselves under the new legislation.
“We refused to register as a foreign agent because we are not agents and we do not recognise this law,” says Tamta Natchkebia, a news editor at Publika, an online media that covers socio-political issues in Georgia, with a focus on human rights.
The situation deteriorated further following Georgia’s disputed parliamentary elections in November 2024, in light of accusations and documented cases of electoral fraud. The ruling Georgian Dream party, in power since 2012, claimed a landslide victory, further consolidating its grip on power. The party’s founder, oligarch Bidzina Ivanishvili, Georgia’s wealthiest man, has been accused of steering the country toward Russian influence and autocracy, despite its complex relationship with its neighbour.
“There are many controversial amendments and laws adopted, including but not only the “foreign agent's” law, and on top of that there are various increased threats coming directly from the police,” says Nikuradze describing the post-election atmosphere in the country. “On top of that, threats have escalated, with police directly targeting journalists, seizing property, detaining individuals, and masked, unmarked individuals, often affiliated with the government, attacking journalists and protesters alike near their homes or on the streets.”
Attacks on journalists are not new in Georgia. In July 2021, more than 50 journalists were brutally assaulted by far-right activists and anti-LGBTQ protesters while covering Tbilisi Pride. However, according to Nikuradze, the situation has deteriorated significantly, and journalists are being targeted by other actors, as the attack this time is no longer from the far-right activists.
“Now the main culprits are the police or unidentified men likely tied to the government,” she notes. “In the first two days of the protests especially we had a feeling that the police were told to attack journalists and a lot of journalists were injured during this time. Many of these cases happened live on camera,” recalls Nikuradze. In one such unsettling video, TV Pirveli reporter Maka Chikhladze is seen violently attacked on air by masked men, who threw her to the ground and beat her cameraman who was live-streaming the attack. Just in 2024, Transparency International Georgia recorded around 200 cases of physical and verbal assaults in Georgia, among them attacks on Publika journalists.
“It was very clear that the attacks were deliberate and some happened in front of the policemen and they didn't do anything, they refused to help,” says Natchkebia, two of whose co-workers were beaten.
Faced with increasing hostility, OC Media implemented unprecedented safety measures while covering the protests. “They clearly had orders to prevent media workers from documenting violent arrests,” Nikuradze says. “While we kept our press badges, we removed our high-visibility press jackets because we didn’t want to stand out as journalists.”
Yet, discarding their visibility jackets did little to keep journalists off the authorities’ radar, sending alarming messages about what might come next. While covering the protest, OC-Media obtained a report about 48 individuals, including journalists, being on a list of people allegedly marked for arrest by authorities. Among them was Nikuradze.
“After the information became public, I was summoned as a witness in a criminal investigation into organising ‘group violence,’” she says, adding that the media attention likely deterred authorities from proceeding further with her detention.
“We have become more careful about what we discuss in the newsroom, sometimes we prefer not to talk about everything, to be careful, thinking that maybe someone is listening to us,” says Natchkebia.
On January 13, Georgian police detained Mzia Amaghlobeli, the founder and director of one of the country’s most prominent media outlets, Netgazeti, as well as Batumelebi, on charges of “attacking a police officer.” A video circulated by pro-government media shows Amaghlobeli slapping the police chief of Batumi, a Black Sea coastal city, following an argument. If convicted, Amaghlobeli faces a potential prison sentence of four to seven years. The Committee to Protect Journalists called for her release and urged an investigation into whether the charges she is facing are related to her journalism. In response to the arrest, on January 14, dozens of Georgian media outlets, including some of the country’s largest television channels, went on strike in solidarity with Amaghlobeli. “This is what Georgia will look like without critical media,” read a unified black screen displayed on the television channels Formula, Mtavari, and TV Pirveli during the three-hour strike. On January 20, Amaghlobeli announced that she had begun a hunger strike. “Freedom is more valuable than life.” she wrote in a letter sent from prison.
Despite the growing sense of insecurity, both Nikuradze and Natchkebia remain determined to cover events as they unfold on the streets of Tbilisi. Yet, as they and their local colleagues continue their reporting, the messages the authorities send to journalists echo far beyond Georgian newsrooms, reaching the rest of the region.
Trading one trouble for another
In November 2024, Baku rolled out the red carpet for foreign journalists arriving in Azerbaijan to cover the UN’s Climate Change Conference. For one week, international correspondents roamed Baku’s lavish summit venues, carefully designed to showcase Caucasian hospitality to foreign guests. Meanwhile, dozens of Azerbaijan’s own journalists, critical of their government, followed the international event at a “safe” distance – behind prison bars.
Just two weeks after the COP29 attendees departed, Azerbaijani authorities arrested six more of the country’s few remaining independent journalists. Among them were Aynur Ganbarova, Aytaj Ahmadova, Khayala Agayeva, Natig Javadli and Aysel Umudova – reporters for Meydan TV, an exiled Azerbaijani independent media based in Berlin. Along with another independent reporter, Ramin Jabrayilzade, the journalists are being charged with smuggling. Reporters Without Borders (Reporters sans frontières, RSF), called the detention “relentless repression of journalists.” According to the organisation, as of December 2024, the number of detained Azerbaijani journalists and media workers stands at 19. The organisation ranked Azerbaijan 164th out of 180 countries for freedom of the press.
For decades, Azerbaijan has consistently ranked near the bottom of global press freedom indexes, as one of the world's most restrictive environments for journalism. The media in the country is either directly financed or tightly controlled by the state. While journalists working for government-affiliated outlets enjoy generous rewards, including housing provided by the president, the dissenting voices that challenge the authoritarian regime risk paying a steep price — whether through imprisonment at home, or self-exile abroad.
“Independent journalism is almost dead in Azerbaijan,” says Aytan Farhadova.
Fahradova is an Azerbaijani journalist, reporting on news from Azerbaijan for Tbilisi-based OC Media. For over five years, she has had to follow the developments in her country from abroad. Farhadova left Azerbaijan in 2019 after local authorities lifted her travel ban and decided to move to Georgia with her family. As a neighbouring country, Georgia for long had been one of the main visa-free destinations for Azerbaijani journalists and activists fleeing political prosecution at home.
The recent wave of arrests targeting her colleagues and friends has served as a bitter reminder of the risks hanging above her head if she ever returned to her home country. Farhadova, a former Meydan TV journalist herself, also received warnings from friends and colleagues advising her to avoid returning to Azerbaijan. Yet, amid the escalating situation and newly enacted laws in Georgia, Tbilisi, where she currently resides, no longer offers the sense of safety and stability it once did.
“I don’t feel safe in Georgia anymore. I’ve started doing things I never did before. Recently, I realized that I’ve been checking my surroundings, a habit I never had in Georgia. I’ve also started checking my phone calls and my son’s location, which I did not feel the need to do before,” Farhadova says.
OC Media, where Farhadova works, is also set to be registered as an “agent of foreign influence.” “It is like my fate now,” Farhadova says. “In Azerbaijan, Meydan TV was one of the most feared media outlets for the government. And now, OC Media is in a similar position [in Georgia]. And OC Media might also consider relocation or other alternatives. We are trying to survive.”
While Farhadova’s years of experience in journalism made it possible for her to have stable employment in exile, for many other journalists financial hardship in exile is a heavy burden. Moreover, even leaving the country does not guarantee safety from state violence. After the latest crackdown on media TV journalists, through government-affiliated media outlets, the Azerbaijani authorities have launched a slander campaign against exiled journalists and activists, adding further pressure on them.
“Every day I received messages from my friends who left Azerbaijan and settled in Georgia, saying they are now leaving Georgia too,” Farhadova says.
“We are not criminals”
Another Azerbaijani journalist, Murat, whose name has been changed to ensure his safety, might soon join the growing list of Azerbaijani journalists seeking refuge beyond Georgia. Murat had to leave Azerbaijan after drawing the attention of the authorities due to his public criticism of the government on social media. He was warned that his name had been added to a list of individuals monitored by the state.
“I left because I realised that sooner or later they would come after me,” Murat says. “Either I had to stop being a journalist, which I didn't want to do, or I had to leave the country. I decided to leave.”
Since leaving Azerbaijan, Murat has come to terms with the fact that returning is no longer an option.
“When I left I thought I would return there regularly. But as I started writing more frequently about what is happening in Azerbaijan, and my posts and texts criticising the regime, militarism, and xenophobia gained attention and I understood that there is no way back there. Bahruz Samadov’s case only confirmed that reality,” he notes.
Bahruz Samadov, an Azerbaijani scholar and columnist, known for his criticism of the Azerbaijani government and peace advocacy in the South Caucasus, was studying in Central Europe. In September 2024, during a family visit to Azerbaijan, he was arrested on charges of treason and is now facing prosecution in a trial widely believed to be a consequence of his pro-peace stance on the country’s decades-long conflict over Nagorno-Karabakh with neighbouring Armenia.
While the door to Azerbaijan remains firmly shut for Murat, the journalist’s current home in Georgia, which he once perceived as a “safe haven”, no longer feels secure. The watershed moment for Murat was another trial – this one unfolding in Georgia – that rang alarm bells for him, forcing him to reconsider whether staying was still an option.
In August 2024, upon Baku’s request, the Georgian authorities arrested Afghan Sadygov, an Azerbaijani blogger and journalist, who ran the news outlet and YouTube channel Azel TV. Sadygov was previously arrested twice in Azerbaijan. He moved to Georgia in December 2023. In July 2024 Sadygov reported that he was barred from leaving Georgia while at Tbilisi airport, where authorities informed him he could only return to Azerbaijan. Shortly after, the blogger was detained in Tbilisi and his subsequent request for asylum in Georgia was denied. In November, in the shadow of growing anti-government protests in the country, a Tbilisi court ruled in favour of Sadygov’s extradition to Azerbaijan.
“Today the Georgian authorities are openly carrying out Aliyev’s political orders. If previously this cooperation was less visible, apart from the case of Afghan Mukhtarli, then now with Sadygov's case it is clear that it is completely the execution of political orders,” Murat believes.
In light of Georgia’s energy dependence on Azerbaijan, the strong cooperation between the Azerbaijani and Georgian governments is not new to the Azerbaijani journalism community. In 2017, Azerbaijani prominent investigative journalist and government critic Afgan Mukhtarli was abducted in Georgia, according to his lawyer, by a group of men wearing Georgian police uniforms and brought across the border to Azerbaijan, where he faced trial on charges of illegal border crossing and smuggling. Georgia’s government categorically denied state involvement in the process. Eventually, Mukhtarli was sentenced to six years in prison, though his detention ended in 2020 under growing international pressure. In September 2024, the European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR) ruled out that Georgia failed to conduct an effective investigation into Mukhtarli’s forced disappearance in Georgia and illegal transfer to Azerbaijan. Murat believes that these ties between the two governments are further strengthening as the Georgian ruling party drifts away from the West and is in search of alternative allices elsewhere.
“Even if they do not extradite Sadygov due to public pressure, it does not mean Georgia will become safe. They might let him go today, but won't let someone else go tomorrow.” Murat says. On January 14, the ECtHR reportedly issued an interim ruling, barring Georgia from extraditing Sadygov until a final decision is made on his ECtHR case against Azerbaijan. For Murat, Sadygov’s detention and trial were reminders that if his government was determined to target him, he could be next.
"I have started a process of requesting a humanitarian visa somewhere else, can't say to which country, but honestly I do not want to leave,” he says. Leaving Georgia, for these exiled journalists, also means leaving behind the new home they created, their social ties and the communities they have created, in search of a place to start anew. As the safe spaces far from the reach of their government’s hands shrink, many journalists find refuge in self-censorship.
"Now I am considering reporting anonymously,” Murat notes. “Although that is really upsetting, because I came to Georgia to escape self-censorship, and now I find myself having to think about it again.” The journalist says, under growing pressure, he also often feels that doing his job has been equated to “committing a crime,” — a sentiment widely shared by many exiled journalists in exile, including Farhadova.
“Now whether it is the Azerbaijani government or the Georgian government, they have made us think about ourselves as though we are criminals,” Farhadova says, “But we are not criminals — we are journalists.”
“Smells like a prison”
Georgia’s fast-changing political landscape echoes loudly beyond the South Caucasus, particularly in Kyrgyzstan, where the swift shift toward a hostile political climate for journalism is still vividly remembered. The Central Asian country was for a long time seen as a “democratic island” surrounded by increasingly authoritarian states. However, since the government change in 2020, Kyrgyzstan has gradually turned into an environment progressively more oppressive for journalism. Its freedom of press ranking dropped by nearly 50 places over the course of a year in 2023.
“Over the past four years under the current president, the state of independent journalism has deteriorated drastically, leaving virtually no one in the country reporting critically,” says Kyrgyz journalist Leila Saralaeva.
Over her nearly three-decade-long journalistic career, she has witnessed numerous instances of repression against journalists, including killings, but has nevertheless pioneered freedom of the press in the region. Today the independent media is blocked and journalists who dare to criticise the government are increasingly targeted by top state officials.
“The current president [ed. Sadyr Japarov] has broken all records in pressuring journalists,” she says.
In January 2024, in a single day, Kyrgyzstan arrested 11 investigative journalists covering corruption in the country. A privately-owned newsroom called kg.24 was raided and captured, then transferred to government-affiliated management. In February, the authorities blocked one of the most prominent media outlets in the country – Kloop.
“My colleagues told me that there was a list of five other editors-in-chief who were also planned for arrest, and my name was on that list. That's when I realised I had to flee. I had prepared myself psychologically, but I wasn't ready to leave. However, on the evening of January 18, I was informed that my name had come up, and I had to leave while I still had the chance, as they wouldn't allow me to leave the country later,” Saralaeva says.
In the dark of the night, Saralaeva quickly left the country for Kazakstan, and from there, with the help of international journalist rights organisations, she made her way to Georgia.
“In Central Asia, Georgia is often viewed as a country that embodies more or less European-style democracy, following a path toward European democratic standards. I was absolutely confident that Georgian society would not allow the foreign agents law to pass. Unlike the societies in Central Asia or Kyrgyzstan, Georgian society was more democratic,” she says.
Kyrgyzstan has its own “foreign agents law” that came into force only months before a similar one in Georgia, in April 2024. Under this law, every nonprofit organisation, including the media, is labelled as a “foreign representative” if they receive finance from abroad.
“Georgia has always been a flagman for us in terms of development, democracy, and its powerful journalism. Unfortunately, our country has strayed from the path of democratic development under the current government. However, if we see an example of the people's victory and their desire for freedom, it will undoubtedly inspire our society,” Saralaeva believes.
During nearly a year-long stay in Georgia, Saralaeva says the impact of the change of the rhetoric in the country has made a difference in the country, as well as on her own perception of her safety. In the meantime, she has to grapple with the hardship that comes with journalism in exile, including financial instability and isolation. To support her journalistic work, Saralaeva had to sell her paintings in Georgia. The public’s support at home for her as a journalist rather than a painter encouraged her to continue journalism.
“I can no longer return home, and all that's left for me is to search for new countries and new paths. I was told I was strong and would survive prison. I will, but I don't want my parents to suffer. They want to silence and punish me. Therefore, returning might not mean death, but it definitely smells like a prison.”
For Central Asian journalists, after Kyrgyzstan ceased being the closest option for operating in exile, Georgia became the most accessible and affordable place with no visa requirements to continue their journalism. With the situation deteriorating in Georgia, like many of her colleagues from the region, she began to wonder where else she could turn to next.
“I don't post anything about the situation in Georgia on social media, as I'm afraid they won't let me enter the country the next time I go for a visa run. And after that, I don't know where else I could go,” she says.
Met with the sword
Above Tbilisi, on a picturesque hill, stands the statue of Mother Georgia, a symbol of the nation's character and hospitality. In her left hand, the statue holds a bowl of wine for those who come as friends, and in her right, a sword for those who come as enemies. However, amid the changing policies of the ruling party, the distinction between friends and enemies has become blurred and Saralaeva's fear of being denied entry into Georgia is well-founded. The "visa run" is a process many exiled journalists and activists from the region rely on in Georgia to ensure their legal, visa-free stay. These periodic trips, typically taken annually or bi-annually, require individuals to travel to a neighbouring country, such as Armenia or Türkiye, before returning to Georgia to reset their legal stay. For years, this was a straightforward workaround. However, as Georgia's political climate grows tense, it is the sword that several foreign journalists have had to face at the gates of the country.
“In 2024, a wave of refusals to allow entry into Georgia began without any explanation,” says Belarusian journalist Andrei Mialeshka. He experienced this firsthand in September 2024 after returning from a visa run. Upon landing at Georgia's Kutaisi Airport with his daughter, Mialeshka was denied entry and sent back to Poland, their departure point.
“They took me aside and handed me a document stating that, according to a decision by Georgia’s Security Service, I was not allowed to enter the country,” Mialeshka recalls. “They escorted us onto a plane back to Warsaw without providing any further explanation.” The official document cited “other reasons” as the grounds for denying him entry. Since then, neither Mialeshka nor local media or the legal team assisting him has been able to obtain further clarification.
“They aim to turn Georgia into Caucasian Belarus – a crystal tube where they block entry to journalists, opposition figures, and activists while projecting an image that everything is fine,” Mialeshka believes. Mialeshka fled to Georgia from Belarus in 2021 after a violent crackdown on media and civil society following the mass protests triggered by the rigged 2020 elections in his home country. Since then, Belarus has become an increasingly hostile environment for journalists. With no independent media left operating in the country, hundreds of journalists have gone into exile, and nearly forty remain imprisoned. RSF has called Belarus “Europe’s most dangerous country for journalists,” ranking it 167th out of 180 countries on the World Press Freedom Index 2024. In addition to imprisonment and draconian laws suppressing independent media, intimidation is a common tool used to silence dissenting voices.
“In August 2021, I was simultaneously summoned for questioning by five Belarusian agencies, including the Revenue Service, the Department of Financial Investigations, the State Security Committee (KGB), and the Investigative Committee. I had no choice but to evacuate within two to three days,” Mialeshka says. While living in Georgia with his wife and two children, Mialeshka continued working for a Belarusian and Polish-language radio station broadcasting to Belarusians in Poland. From Georgia, he reported on the Belarusian community's experiences and the effects of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. This was before his own denial of entry became a news topic in both Belarusian and Georgian media.
"I was told that there were similar cases with the Belarusian activists. I learned about it after I returned to Poland, however, the issue wasn't voiced. They either didn't want to or were afraid to talk about it. Many people attempted their return to Georgia, for some it worked, but I also know of cases where people went back and were deported from the country.”
A day after Mialeshka was denied entry, Arsen Kharatyan, the founder of the Georgian-Armenian news platform Aliq Media, faced the same fate. Kharatyan was denied entry to the country and sent back to Luxembourg, where he arrived from. A month later, as the country was preparing for elections, the Georgian authorities denied entry to Czech journalist Ray Baseley arriving in Georgia to cover the election, adding to the names of several Russian and other national independent media journalists denied entry to Georgia since 2022.
Authoritarian spillover
The deliberate and selective denial of entry to journalists in Georgia has drawn criticism from international journalism organisations. Some have been raising alarms about the deteriorating situation in Georgia for years, but their appeals to Georgian authorities have largely fallen on deaf ears.
“At RSF, we sent a letter to the authorities, I think it was already two years ago, regarding the entry bans or re-entry bans imposed on some exiled Russian journalists. They never responded,” says Jeanne Cavelier, the Head of the Eastern Europe and Central Asia Desk at Reporters Without Borders. “We never received an explanation for the specific reasons behind these bans,” Cavelier notes.
The worsening situation in Georgia has also put journalist rights organisations in a difficult position.
“Georgia was one of the few countries where we could relatively easily send journalists in danger to continue their work, particularly journalists from Eastern Europe and Central Asia. It was a place for temporary relocation due to its favourable visa regime. Working with the European Union is far more challenging because it’s less accessible on short notice.”
For those in dire need of emergency relocation, however, the free space for exile and reporting in Georgia is rapidly shrinking. Along with several other journalistic rights organisations, RSF continues supporting those in exile in Georgia, to create safer conditions for their stay, while also upon request helping those preparing for emergency solutions. “Given the ongoing crackdown on journalism and the systematic, organised violence against journalists, we fear that the restrictive measures we observed last year may escalate further,” says Cavelier.
“We now observe an alarming slide in democracy in this country, which once served as a reference point, even an example, for other nations in the region. That decline is deeply concerning for the rest of the region,” she notes.
The authoritarian spillover has already spread across the region, with the strengthening authoritarian rule in Russia prompting neighbouring countries to adopt similar tactics from Russia's autocratic playbook. From Eastern Europe to Central Asia, several governments are replicating restrictive legislation that has proven effective, normalising authoritarian practices across borders and offering a model for others closely observing and mirroring these strategies. As the effective mechanisms of consolidating power expand across borders, freedom of speech is the first in line to be targeted.
With an ever-shrinking space for the free press, a threat to one journalist is a signal sent to other critical voices. Faced with financial hardship, intimidation, defamation, and prosecution, the safest option left for many of those journalists is self-censorship. For those who refuse to stay mute, the consequences vary. As Aytan Fahradova bitterly joked, “Prison became the place to go if you want to meet your friends.” Yet, to some, it is for those friends behind bars that she and many journalists across the region continue their reporting, “to work for what my imprisoned friend cannot,” Farhadova said.