Daughters of Maro

On March 7, a hundred days had passed since the beginning of ongoing protests in Georgia.
Today marks the 122nd day of protest on Tbilisi’s central avenue. The protesters stand firm, believing they are defending their identity. So it was a century ago, in the winter of 1921, when the Red Army, marching from Russia to reclaim dominion over Tbilisi and the Caucasus, reached the borders of the Georgian Republic.

This comes as no surprise. Throughout the history, every great empire has vied for control over the Caucasus along the Silk Road. For Byzantium and Western merchants, it was the final stronghold before the East and a gateway to the shortest trade routes. For the Arabs, the Emirate of Tbilisi served as a trade outpost at the very doorstep of Europe. For the Persian and Ottoman empires, it meant dominion over customs wealth and key transit corridors. And for Russia, the Caucasus provided one of the few vital links to the Silk Road’s central artery and the lucrative markets of the South—especially at the dawn of the 20th century when the Absheron Peninsula produced half of the world’s oil supply, fueling global trade through the port of Batumi.

What would have happened that winter if Georgia had been able to repel the Soviet assault and use its resources for regional development in an era of technological revolution? It is hard to say. However, we do know that the large-scale invasion was met by a national army numbering in the thousands, volunteers, students, and sorority sisters. Among them was Maro Makashvili – the first female victim of the occupation, who fell on the battlefield.

In the following years, the Soviet Union not only banned the mention of her name and the names of other fighters, but it also subjected everything that could potentially revive fragments of memory to brutal persecution. Despite the fear of exile and execution, the dedication of a few individuals managed to rise above the dictatorship, and at the cost of their lives, Maro Makashvili’s family preserved for history one of the rarest documentary materials: Maro Makashvili’s diaries – unpublished correspondence from the pre-occupation period, personal emotions, and the vicissitudes of the frontline.

Times have changed. In the digital age, Georgia was once again given the opportunity to create the main cargo-carrying corridor of the Silk Road. With the establishment of Chinese-European communication, it was preliminarily calculated that the Anaklia port could generate up to a billion U.S. dollars in revenue. However, the project was halted five years ago at the initiative of the Georgian government. Instead of possible oasis, on November 24, following the parliamentary elections, a strange procession took place in Tbilisi. Hundreds of women set off from Freedom Square towards the Sololaki slope with empty bags. “We remain to fight,” they said, and dropped the bags in front of the residence of the country’s informal ruler. This was their response to his statement that those who disagreed with the election results should go into exile in search of a livelihood – a destination for 160,000 women who have left Georgia in the last three years.

People were saying the vote was stolen. With the fraudulent elections, even emigrants were upset. But no one was given the time to protest it properly. Shortly after, the Prime Minister of the winning party announced the suspension of Georgia’s European integration course.

“Russians!” – a furious voice rang out on Rustaveli Avenue.

On the same day, President Salome Zourabichvili appeared on Freedom Square and called on the law enforcement officers stationed there to refrain from using force against the people.

It was hard to imagine that in the 21st century, media and ordinary people’s records of contemporary history would once again be threatened. However, in mid-March 2025, reports spread that the ruling party planned to impose restrictions on online media outlets and social networks. What could be censored in a country where law enforcement officials openly assaulted journalists live on air, and the legal pursuit of several of them continues to this day? What could history lose?

According to the propaganda plan, the destruction of Maro Makashvili’s legacy was supposed to be followed by the erasure of her name. Unfortunately, the 19-year-old med-student was never given the chance to leave a direct lineage. But one hundred years after her death in a bombing, she became the first Georgian woman to be posthumously awarded the title of national hero and has become one of the main symbols of the resistance movement across generations.

This media chronicle, beyond the recent developments in Georgia, also attempts to recount the battle of Maro’s ideological children. The persistence, dedication, and courage of those who threw away their bags and once again took on the burden of standing at the vanguard. Ironically, the modern frontline runs through the very place where Maro Makashvili and her fellow fighters are buried. On Rustaveli Avenue, in front of the Georgian Parliament building.