Abkhazia's serious problems began quite some time ago — and now, during the difficult period of the pandemic, they have only intensified. It has emerged that the crisis has affected not only the economic and social spheres of life in the young state, but has crept into almost every home, threatening residents with lean times ahead.

The main problem destroying Abkhazia — worse than the coronavirus — is the political reality that, at the will of friend, neighbor, and strategic partner Russia, is changing the life of Abkhazian society almost every day. This was the central message of many articles I wrote, in which I expressed concern for Abkhazia's future in light of the deteriorating relationship with its main ally — Russia.

My concerns drew a smile from some sections of Abkhazian society; some openly spoke of "commissioned writing" — but the majority of the population who read these articles understood that what was written was not the author's fantasy, not an exaggeration of reality, but the truth that Abkhazia would have to confront in the very near future.

And just this month, society was shocked by the news of the opening of a bridge in the village of Aibga. On the face of it, a good and useful thing — thanks to this crossing, the journey of the residents of a small Abkhazian village located on the border with the Russian Federation has been shortened many times over and made far more convenient and comfortable. Except that this bridge leads directly onto the territory of the neighboring state — without any border service controls whatsoever. What is more, neither Abkhazia's leadership nor the relevant structures responsible for overseeing the state border crossing point were informed of the bridge's construction and, shall we say, rather peculiar conditions for crossing onto Russian territory. And as the cherry on top — the Abkhazian village of Aibga has been entered into the Rosreestr database as territory of the Russian Federation.

One may say as much as one likes about the bias of my articles and their distortion of Abkhazian reality — but everyone in the republic understands perfectly well that Russia has begun taking Abkhazia's territory piece by piece. I am convinced that Aibga is only the first item on a long list.

"The border between the allied state of the Russian Federation and the Republic of Abkhazia runs along the Psou River. Any construction or installation works in border zones along the Psou River — whether on the Russian Federation's side or the Republic of Abkhazia's side, and especially the construction of a bridge — must be formally agreed between our countries at the level of their governments. This was not done. In my view, this constitutes a violation of the state border and territorial integrity of the Republic of Abkhazia, given that a new bridge — a suspension bridge — has been built where it ought not to exist under any parameters, under any standards of interstate relations. And yet the bridge has appeared," says Timur Gulia, head of the republican public organization of veterans of the Patriotic War "Aruaa."

His view was shared by members of Parliament, who convened an emergency meeting on the matter. The session took place in a fairly heated and emotional atmosphere. The deputies and the invited heads of security structures expressed in quite sharp terms the opinion that Russia had not merely overstepped its authority, but had unilaterally encroached on Abkhazian territory.

"We checked the information, and yes — a suspension bridge was indeed opened on territory not agreed upon with Russia. We found no grounds whatsoever for the construction of this bridge. In principle, nothing should have been built there at all without a decision from the inter-state commission. Even visiting this village is not supposed to occur without bilateral agreements," stated Ilya Gunia, chairman of the parliamentary committee on defense and security.

For readers living outside Abkhazia, by way of context: the Abkhazian village of Aibga contains approximately 20 dacha-type houses, inhabited by Russian citizens registered in Adler. They are only there temporarily — raising livestock and growing crops. Their permanent residence is on Russian territory. Aibga has no administration, no police post, and no state structures of any kind.

The "first harbinger" of the complications developing between Sukhumi and Moscow appeared in the spring of this year, when media reported on changes to the delimitation of Russia's border with Abkhazia. Notably, the republic itself knew nothing of this — and only thanks to journalists' efforts did Abkhazian society learn that the strategic partner had unilaterally reduced Abkhazia's territory. And this had occurred by the will of Russia's FSB, which had issued a certain order "On the Limits of the Border Zone on the Territory of the Krasnodar Region," dated January 17, 2020, under number 12, according to which the Abkhazian village of Aibga was declared part of the Adler district of the Krasnodar region.

Abkhazia's Parliament tasked the security services and the republic's Foreign Ministry with establishing the circumstances of the construction of the bridge across the Psou River on territory subject to a special regime that does not permit unilateral actions. The parliamentary body also expressed hope that the question of the village of Aibga would be placed on the agenda of the upcoming meeting between Abkhazian President Aslan Bzhania and Russian President Vladimir Putin.

In the meantime, let me return to my reflections on the increasingly complicated Abkhazian-Russian relationship. If it was previously only possible to speak of this in theoretical terms, the passing year of 2020 has produced a wealth of concrete examples. And I fear that the story of the village of Aibga is already a stage that has been left behind. The new form of land seizure from Abkhazia has now been transformed into an ultra-fashionable, cutting-edge project called "advanced development territories." I have already written in a recent article about the danger these zones pose to Abkhazia. So — should ADTs actually appear in the republic, as Russia so ardently desires, there will no longer be any need to speak of illegally built bridges, violations of the state border, or the territorial integrity of Abkhazia. Under the guise of an internationally recognized investment attraction practice, Russia will take from Abkhazia the most coveted pieces of its land. And we will have no way of resisting this process.

For several decades we declared to the entire world that Russia was our savior, our ally, and our helper — that it was to Russia, above all others, that we entrusted our lives and the future of our homeland. And now, when the strategic partner and friend has revealed its true face by laying its greedy hands on our land, few in the entire world will believe in the threat hanging over our heads. Do you remember the story of the shepherd boy who kept crying for help, shouting "Wolf! Wolf!"? People rushed to his aid, thinking the wolf had attacked the flock — but no wolf could be seen. And when the wolf finally did come, no one believed the boy's cries any longer.

I would like to believe that Abkhazia can be saved from the clutches of this highly crafty partner — that the history of the ancient Abkhazian state will not end as the shepherd boy's did, when the hungry wolf finally devoured him. Except that to whom we are to run for this assistance, I cannot for the life of me figure out. And meanwhile, the deadline Russia has set for us is inexorably running out.

Astanda Bgamba

The text contains place names and terminology used in the self-proclaimed Republic of Abkhazia. Opinions expressed in the publication reflect the views of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of the editorial board.