‘When we get in the minibus, the fun will start’ — How Georgian police torture detained protesters

Over 450 protesters have been detained during the two weeks of mass protests against the halting of Georgia’s EU membership bid. According to local civil society organisations and the Public Defender’s Office, the vast majority of detainees have experienced violence at the hands of the police.

Lazare Maglakelidze, a 20-year-old third-year student at Sapienza University in Rome, came to Georgia in the summer with the intention of staying through the October parliamentary elections as an observer. However, after witnessing widespread irregularities at his polling station and realising that this was not an isolated issue but a systemic problem throughout the entire election process, he felt compelled to stay and participate in the protests, attending every rally.

On the morning of 2 December, as crowds were dispersing from Tbilisi’s central Rustaveli Avenue, riot police set up a small cordon at Republic Square. Those left behind on Rustaveli Avenue continued to leave at a normal pace. Lazare says he was on his way to a family friend’s house, where he had been staying during the protests.

‘As I approached his building, special forces officers suddenly approached me and sprayed pepper spray in my face’, Maglakelidze recalls.

His first instinct was to lie down and cover his head with his hands, knowing how violently people had been beaten on the streets. Maglakelidze told OC Media that as soon as he lay down, the officers kicked him multiple times, emptied his pockets, taking his wallet and mobile phone, and ripped his backpack off.

‘Afterward, two special forces officers dragged me to a camp they had set up at Republic Square. They spoke among themselves, instructing the others not to assault me in front of the nearby media. At Republic Square, there were special minibuses designed for detaining and torturing people — empty on the inside, with only a few seats, and heavily tinted windows, meant exclusively for this purpose’, Maglakelidze says.

Maglakelidze recalls that when they arrived, the police officers seemed unsure of where to place him, as all the minibuses appeared to be full. According to him, they couldn’t wait to start the beating and began assaulting him before putting him inside one of the buses.

‘Two officers held me while they punched me in the stomach and legs, then they grabbed my raincoat, covered my head with it, restrained my hands, and punched me in the face. I lost track of how many people hit me or how long it lasted. I could no longer see and eventually lost consciousness from the blows to my head. One of the detainees who was with me on the minibus later told me that after I passed out, the two officers continued holding my body while nearby police officers hit, kicked, and punched me’.

‘When I regained consciousness, I tried to remove my raincoat, which alerted them that I was awake, and they resumed beating me. Afterward, they dragged us into the minibus’, Maglakelidze remembers.

He notes that the abuse was accompanied by threats and degrading language. The officers taunted the detainees, saying things like, ‘When we get in the minibus, the fun will start’, ‘We’ll teach you a lesson’, and ‘We’ll rape you with a baton’. They also used homophobic slurs, such as ‘You’re faggots; you won’t mind this’.

A larger system of abuse and torture

Maglakelidze believes this was not an isolated decision by individual officers but rather a systematic process — a deliberate and coordinated effort. For instance, when they searched for an available minibus, it became clear to him that this was a regular procedure. Passing police officers would join in on the abuse without hesitation. He believes this was not a spontaneous act, but part of a larger system of abuse and torture.

‘After being beaten outside, I was thrown into the minibus with three other detainees. Initially, they beat us lightly, mostly on the head, while making derogatory remarks about our involvement in the protests, calling us traitors who were paid by [opposition leader Nika] Gvaramia, and so on. To give you a better idea of what they were saying, imagine turning on [pro-government] TV Imedi and adding a heavy dose of swearing to their usual propaganda.’

He recalls that at one point, five officers entered the bus and turned off the lights, turning the interior pitch black due to the tinted windows. 

‘They resumed beating us in complete darkness. I’m not sure how long the assault lasted, but I lost consciousness again after a brutal blow to the head. When I woke up, I noticed a pool of my own blood in my raincoat. Because the raincoat was waterproof, the blood had collected and streamed down when I removed it. Shortly afterward, they handed us over to the police, who photographed us in the police car, likely for the benefit of their superiors, to show they had “treated us properly” ’, Maglakelidze says.

Maglakelidze says that at the police station, there were some officers who were more lenient. However, certain officers and senior officials, he says, made it clear that any form of leniency was discouraged.

He remembers that after one officer removed his handcuffs because they had been applied incorrectly and were causing him pain, the officer was reprimanded for being too lenient. After that, another officer re-handcuffed Maglakelidze and said that if it were up to him, he would break all the demonstrators’ hands.

‘They offered to wash my face, but I didn’t care — I had much bigger concerns at that moment. The repeated insistence on cleaning my face became clear later: they wanted to remove the visible signs of my beating before the media could see them’, Maglakelidze recalls.

‘Afterward, they prepared an arrest protocol that was completely fabricated. The officer who filled it out was someone I first met at the police station. I refused to sign the document and requested medical assistance. Eventually, they transferred me to an ambulance, which took me to the hospital’, he says.

At the hospital, Maglakelidze was diagnosed with a concussion, head trauma, and a broken nose, and underwent surgery. The last interaction he had before being treated was with the officer who had ‘arrested’ him. Maglakelidze remembers the officer coming into the emergency room to remove his handcuffs and mockingly telling him, ‘see, you’re still fine; look at how badly the others are beaten’.

Maglakelidze says that during the abuse, the officers often ask several times, ‘was it worth it to attend the rally?’, adding that he finds it incredible that anyone would believe that after what was done to him, he would become more accepting of the government.

‘It is true that they succeeded in keeping me away from the rallies for a few days because I am physically incapable of attending, but I will never become accustomed to such a regime. It was impossible to tolerate before, and it’s even more so now’, Maglakelidze says.

‘Everything I had on me was just loot for them’

The day after Maglakelidze’s beating, Irakli Pipia, a lecturer of Medical Anthropology at Tbilisi State Medical University, finished work before heading out to join the protests. 

‘It was just another day of protests’, he says, adding that he had attended other rallies in the days prior. 

The police began to move in on the demonstration early that evening. As Pipia recounts, it was just after 22:00 when the first line of the patrol police cordon was removed and riot police advanced.

‘I stood silently in front of them, just a metre away, doing nothing but protesting in silence’, he recalls. ‘Suddenly, the cordon opened, and someone rushed up behind me, wrapping his arms around me and saying, “come with us, we will take care of you”.’

‘They pulled me inside the cordon. Once the shields were closed around us, the physical and verbal assault began. At the same time, they started a so-called “search”, which felt more like plunder than an actual search. They emptied everything from my pockets. I had a rucksack with notebooks and student records — it was just an ordinary workday for me.’

At one point the officers found a flashlight in one of Pipia’s pockets. 

‘One of the officers seemed excited about it. “What a useful thing”, he said, slipping it into his own pocket. I realised then that everything I had on me was just loot for them. I glanced at one of the officers, and his pupils were unnaturally dilated. I don’t know if it was adrenaline or something else, but it looked inhuman. I tried to stay on my feet, not wanting to fall, as a circle formed around me, blocking anyone from seeing what was happening’, Pipia recalls.

Georgian President Salome Zourabichvili told French public radio on 3 December that riot police were ‘clearly under the influence of drugs’, while also suggesting they were given ‘substances like amphetamines to enhance their endurance’.

According to Pipia, after encircling him, the officers began punching him in the face, abdomen, and ribs. The beating outside did not last long, he says. After taking his scarf, hat, backpack, and mobile phone, they shoved him into a minibus with nine other detainees. 

He recalls that though the men were clearly members of the riot police, their faces were covered and they had no identification markers. They also appeared to have some sort of rotation system. Two officers at a time would enter, insulting and beating the detainees, taking photos, and asking for their names before sending them elsewhere.

‘It was deliberately hostile and intimidating. They hit us while asking, “are you going to join the rally again?” I wasn’t afraid, but I felt disappointed. Despite all the brutality we saw during those days, I still believed the police had some sense of objectivity. But after getting into that minibus, I realised they didn’t care about any of that’, he says.

Pipia says he avoided answering their questions, covering his head with his hands to protect it. But as he did so, they continued kicking him in the ribs, and at one point, the pain made it hard for him to breathe.

‘I started having spasms. When another group of officers approached and asked for my name, I couldn’t respond because I couldn’t catch my breath. There was one person sitting by the driver’s seat the whole time. He told the others not to kick me anymore and opened the door to let me get some air. After a while, he asked how I was feeling, and I simply said, “breathing”. They shut the door and continued their assault’.

‘For a moment, I realised they had already lost all humanity, and I didn’t want to lose mine as well. So I began praying for inner peace. At first, they didn’t understand what I was doing, but when they heard me, they were enraged. “Does your prayer help you?” they shouted, and began beating me even more viciously’, Pipia recalls.

Pipia told OC Media that it did not matter what answer he gave; they beat everyone the same way. They simply wanted to inflict harm.

‘Everyone tried to punch us in the face before moving on to other parts of our bodies’, he says.

According to him, the beating in the minibus lasted about 10 minutes. Afterward, they transferred him to a minivan, where he was joined by a 20-year-old boy who had also been abused. Irakli says they faced further verbal and physical abuse during the transfer. Handcuffed in the minivan and unable to protect his face, he was struck again, this time with a half-filled water bottle.

When they arrived at the police station, Pipia recalls that an inventory of their belongings was conducted.

‘I still had a wristwatch and a ₾20 ($7) bill in my pocket. Those items were listed in the report, as if the other items that the riot police had stolen from me didn’t even exist’, he says. 

Some of the detainees were made to stand against the wall, while those who had been severely beaten were given chairs. Pipia says that at this point, he was still struggling to breathe, and even now finds it hard to take deep breaths.

An ambulance was called about 40 minutes later, and Pipia was taken to the hospital where he was diagnosed with contusions and head trauma. He believes that the spasms from the kick to his ribs saved him, because many others he saw that night had much worse injuries. Some of them even required surgery.

‘Even though I went through this oppressive system and it fully digested me, it didn’t intimidate me. In fact, it reinforced my belief that what I’m doing is the right thing. People who believe in nothing but serving a party can’t stop us. We will continue to fight against this, even if they don’t understand. And eventually, they’ll have to realise, painfully, that we won’t back down’, he says. 

‘A state policy of tolerance’

While Georgian Prime Minister Irakli Kobakhidze has continued to blame the violence on protesters and opposition parties, Nona Kurdovanidze, the head of the Georgian Young Lawyers Association (GYLA), states that the majority of protesters exercised their right to freedom of expression in a peaceful manner. Despite this, the organisation has received numerous accounts of violence from police forces through their hotline.

‘When we discuss the systemic nature of this violence, it’s important to note that law enforcement officers — who in democratic countries should be responsible for responding to such acts — fail to do so, which only reinforces its systemic character’, Kurdovanidze says.

‘There is not a single institution in the country capable of adequately addressing these violations, investigating them effectively, or holding specific perpetrators accountable. This suggests that the violence is part of a coordinated policy. It is systematic, and the actions, which go unpunished and take on such violent forms, are aligned with the state and its relevant agencies.’ 

The body responsible for investigating crimes committed by law enforcement in Georgia is the Special Investigative Service. While they have opened investigations into these cases, human rights defenders argue that historically, crimes such as these have not been prosecuted, citing examples from the protests against the foreign agent law this spring. Additionally, they point out that the classification of these crimes is also problematic.

Kurdovanidze states that an investigation has been initiated not for torture, but for exceeding official authority, which is considered a lesser crime:

‘When an investigation begins under the wrong charge, it reveals the underlying policy of the agency regarding the current events. Furthermore, no criminal prosecution has been initiated against any law enforcement officer or individual responsible for abusing journalists. This includes those injured during actions that took place in the spring. Not only has no one been arrested, but no criminal proceedings have been initiated either. This demonstrates that the Special Investigative Service is effectively inactive and incapable of fulfilling its role in investigating such crimes, which occur on a daily basis. We are eyewitnesses to all of this’, she says. 

According to Kurdovanidze, another issue that indicates police violence is backed by the state is the lack of identification markers on riot police officers, noting that it is an international obligation for police officers involved in dispersing demonstrations and handling special events to have identification marks. She points out that this requirement is clearly outlined in a decision by the European Court of Human Rights regarding Georgia, which mandates that officers involved in such operations must be numbered to ensure they are held accountable for any crimes they commit. 

Kurdovanidze believes that the fact the Ministry of Internal Affairs has failed to fulfill this obligation ‘suggests that the state does not want those who commit violence to be held accountable’.

‘The lack of identification marks serves this purpose — preventing the identification of law enforcement officers who engage in violent acts. It clearly reflects a state policy of tolerance towards such crimes. The impunity for such actions is not only a failure to act but also a deliberate choice’, she says.

‘In other cases, the state could have provided the necessary equipment to ensure that police officers involved in dispersing protests could be identified by investigative agencies. This does not mean officers’ faces would be exposed for public recognition; rather, they could be identified through special numbers on their uniforms, allowing the system to recognise that the person wearing a specific number is a law enforcement officer’.

While acknowledging that identifying police officers engaged in such crimes is difficult, Kurdovanidze believes it is not impossible. She points out that there have not been any statements from the Special Investigative Service indicating that they have made efforts to obtain this information and were unable to do so.

Despite the violent crackdown on protesters, large-scale protests continue in Tbilisi. According to statistics from Transparency International — Georgia, from 28 November to 9 December, more than 450 protesters were detained. Of these, over 300 experienced beatings, torture, and inhuman treatment, with 80 requiring hospitalisation. 

As of today, not a single member of law enforcement has been criminally charged.