In the Twilight of Partnership: Russia Hesitates to Help Abkhazia with Energy, by Oleg Boldyrev
Abkhazia is currently facing a severe energy crisis, political uncertainty, and strained relations with Russia, its primary ally. This article examines the challenges confronting the republic, including the economic impact of stalled investment agreements, political instability, and the societal effects of ongoing energy shortages. Through interviews with local residents, it provides insight into how ordinary people are coping with the crisis and their perspectives on the future.
This article was written by Oleg Boldyrev and first published on the BBC Russian Service website. It has been translated into English by AbkhazWorld.
Abkhazia faces its most severe energy crisis in 30 years.
Residents of the self-declared republic have long grown accustomed to shortages of various kinds but have consistently relied on Russia's support. Moscow, after all, has been funding half of Abkhazia’s budget in recent years. However, Abkhazia's refusal to consider an investment agreement pushed by Russia has strained relations with its key ally.
Disagreements over investment have already cost Abkhazia's President Aslan Bzhania his position. Whoever takes office following the snap elections in February will have to grapple with the challenge of navigating Abkhazia's dependence on Russia while preserving what Abkhazians regard as their national heritage.
In 1993, shortly after the war in Abkhazia ended, heating was nearly impossible in Sukhum. Amra Ladariya (name changed), then a young woman, bought a portable Japanese kerosene stove. Now 74 and retired, Amra is once again reliant on the same stove. "It's warm and cosy here. There's a slight smell of kerosene, but we will manage," she says. Amra requests evening phone calls, as electricity—and with it, mobile connectivity—will likely be unavailable during the day.
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Over the past week, the streets of Sukhum and other Abkhaz cities have grown noisier, as those who can afford it turn to petrol powered generators. For now, there is no shortage of petrol in Abkhazia, though it is expensive. "The price of generators has gone up—by 40-50%, so not everyone can afford one," says Ivan (name changed), a resident of New Athos. "Some have bought stoves or fireplaces. I am using a stove myself and now transport firewood in what used to be my official car."
For the last week, Abkhazia has operated under strict energy conservation measures: electricity is supplied in two daily increments of 80 minutes. From 9 p.m. to 7 a.m., power flows in from Russia at discounted nighttime rates. Abkhazia cannot afford to pay for electricity at higher daytime prices. Last week, schools and kindergartens were closed due to the lack of power, while hospitals have relied on generators to remain operational.
The simplest explanation for the crisis lies in the record-low water levels at the Ingur Hydroelectric Power Station, located on the de facto border between Georgia and Abkhazia. The plant is managed jointly, with energy distribution handled by a directorate on the Georgian side of the border. Levon Mebonia, the head of the directorate, recently explained to an Abkhaz delegation that under the agreed energy-sharing arrangement—60% for Georgia and 40% for Abkhazia—Abkhazia has already exceeded its annual quota without paying for it.
According to the Georgian side, the remaining energy from the Ingur Hydroelectric Power Station must be sold to cover the plant's operating costs. "And if we start paying for the 40%, will that somehow add more water to the Ingur?" quipped former deputy Ilya Gunia, a member of the Abkhaz delegation. For now, however, Abkhazia lacks the funds, and the Ingur River is unlikely to replenish until the spring snowmelt in the mountains.
The Ingur HPP began operations in 1978. Situated at the heart of the Georgian-Abkhazian conflict zone, it is jointly controlled: the reservoir, dam, and a section of the diversion tunnel lie within Georgian territory , while the remaining tunnel section, the hydroelectric power station building, and four differential hydroelectric plants are on the Abkhazian territory. — Editor
“This is the first time I can remember an electricity regime where power isn’t being cut off but rather rationed in limited increments,” says Inal Khashig, a commentator and editor of the newspaper Chegemskaya Pravda. Living in an apartment where a generator is of no help, Khashig charges his phone in his car. “The authorities have money to purchase electricity for the nighttime hours, but even that money is being scraped together bit by bit. Right now, the largest winery in Abkhazia has paid for a few days of electricity imports from Russia—through future tax revenues from its profits. Next, they’ll probably turn to another major business to finance the next week of ‘night electricity.’”
A representative of Russia’s energy company, Inter RAO, confirmed that current electricity supplies from Russia are being provided under a prepayment scheme, with the contract set to expire on New Year’s Eve. Acting Abkhaz Minister of Energy and Transport, Jansukh Nanba, stated this week that Abkhazia’s request for 327 million kilowatt-hours of free electricity for 2025 remains unanswered. “For years, we got Russian electricity for free. It had to be paid for, but no one paid, and Russia covered the subsidies. Now, it seems Moscow is reluctant to keep footing the bill,” remarks Ivan, a resident of New Athos, with a touch of bitterness.
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Power, Tourism, and Tangerines
In Abkhazia, many believe the energy crisis could be resolved quickly if not for Moscow's frustration over the lack of progress on an investment agreement it has been pushing for years. The proposed agreement, which would allow major Russian businesses to invest heavily—particularly in real estate development along Abkhazia’s warm Black Sea coast—is deeply unpopular among the local population. The public backlash reached a boiling point when the agreement was scheduled for parliamentary discussion. Protesters stormed the presidential administration, and within days, President Aslan Bzhania was forced to resign. On 3 December, the parliament voted against ratifying the agreement.
The response from Moscow was swift and followed a familiar playbook used with Abkhazia and other post-Soviet territories. On 6 December, Abkhazia’s acting Prime Minister announced that pests had been found in tangerines exported to Russia by Abkhaz farmers.
A few days later, Russia's Association of Tour Operators (ATOR) announced that it had received instructions from the Ministry of Economic Development to suspend package tours to Abkhazia. In an initial statement, ATOR Vice President Artur Muradyan made it clear that the measure was punitive.
“Since the Abkhaz people are resisting the adoption of regulations that led to their president's resignation [when Russia would have received preferential terms], Abkhaz businesses are now being disciplined—starting with the suspension of Russian tourist flows, the main source of income for the republic,” Gazeta.Ru quoted the statement.
ATOR later clarified that Muradyan’s words were “taken out of context,” emphasising that Russia values and will continue to value Abkhazia as a tourist destination. Nonetheless, organised tours to Abkhazia remain unavailable for now. For independent travellers, the prospect of a "winter evening in Gagra" by candlelight—or with the drone of a generator—might seem a bit too exotic.
Enemy of the People: The Crypto Miner
Last week in Abkhazia, publicly burned cryptocurrency mining equipment made headlines, revealing a stark reality about the tiny republic. Known in Russia primarily for tangerines, mountains, and beach holidays, Abkhazia’s most energy-intensive industry by far is cryptocurrency mining. "How many residents does Abkhazia have?" asked the director of the Ingur Hydroelectric Power Station, already mentioned earlier. The Abkhaz delegation answered: 244,000. "Tbilisi has 1.5 million, yet the energy consumption is the same. I heard that when you turned off the internet at night, consumption dropped by 50 megawatts." "By 45," the Abkhaz corrected him.
For locals, cryptocurrency farms are no secret. Abkhazia legalised crypto mining in 2020, and electricity consumption in the republic subsequently increased by at least a third, reaching three billion kilowatt-hours annually, according to energy experts. While mining was quickly restricted, the influx of mining equipment had already been significant, and enforcement of the restrictions remained weak.
Large farms, some comprising hundreds of devices, often drew electricity off-grid, effectively for free. Efforts by authorities to toughen penalties for illegal connections, including through a programme to install modern meters imported from Russia, had little effect on payment collection.
Questions have also been raised about why, in the three decades of Abkhazia’s self-declared independence, there has been no significant investment or political will to modernise the Ingur Hydroelectric Power Station or several smaller mountain plants that have fallen into disrepair and ceased contributing to the energy grid.
“From the first president of [de facto independent] Abkhazia to the current one, everyone has said at some point that the Ingur Hydroelectric Power Station needs to be upgraded, that there are leaks in the dam and water is being lost. And in 32 post-war years, not a single rouble has been invested. It was built in the 1970s—how can you leave it unattended for so long?” wonders Amra Ladariya from Sukhum.
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“To rehabilitate the local energy system, major investments are needed,” explains Olesya Vartanyan, a researcher specialising in Caucasus security issues. “And the question of ownership arises again. No one is going to provide huge sums of money to replace all the wires, install new meters, and overhaul the distribution system without expecting ownership or control.”
Crypto miners are now widely regarded as enemies of the state, though locals view the recent rhetoric from officials with scepticism.
“The main problem is the giant mining farms owned by people in the government or wealthy individuals. This isn’t the people’s fault,” says Akhra (name changed), a resident of Sukhum. “Ordinary people might have one or two mining devices, which don’t consume much power. A typical home in Abkhazia is allocated 13 kilowatts annually. With two or three devices, you don’t exceed that limit. So blaming farmers or the middle class doesn’t make sense. The real issue is the massive farms with thousands of machines. These are the miners funding our government, especially those who were once elected to the presidency.”
“In society, it’s widely believed that every major crypto farm is backed by a high-ranking official,” agrees Inal Khashig, editor of Chegemskaya Pravda. “These individuals shield the farms’ operations. The problem exists, but no genuine efforts have been made to combat it. Although there’s been an anti-mining task force since 2020, enforcement has been half-hearted.”
Abkhaz social media platforms are flooded with videos showing the discovery and destruction of crypto farms and equipment—either confiscated or voluntarily surrendered by residents. However, the crypto mining debate turned tragic this week.
On 19 December, during a parliamentary discussion of a bill to ban cryptocurrency mining outright, a heated argument broke out between two deputies, Adgur Kharaziya and Kan Kvarchiya. When Vakhtang Kaladziya tried to intervene, he was fatally shot with Kharaziya’s pistol. Kharaziya fled the scene and is now considered a murder suspect, according to acting Interior Minister Robert Kiut. The connection between the mining debate and the deadly altercation remains unclear.
Abkhazia Prepares for Presidential Elections Amid Energy and Diplomatic Crises
Protests broke out in Abkhazia on November 15 over a proposed Russian-Abkhaz "investment agreement.
With the resignation of Aslan Bzhania as president and the rejection of the investment agreement with Russia on 3 December, Abkhaz political circles are now gearing up for snap presidential elections. So far, the only candidate to announce his intention to run is Badra Gunba, the acting president and former vice president of Abkhazia. However, it is expected that he will face competition from protest leaders Adgur Ardzinba and Levan Mikaa, who played key roles in ousting Gunba’s predecessor.
In the six weeks leading up to the election, candidates will likely focus on convincing a frustrated and freezing electorate that they have solutions to restore power to homes and bring back financially secure Russian tourists, all without ceding control over who—and on what terms—can develop Abkhazia’s coastline and other commercially valuable lands.
All proposals must acknowledge the reality that there is no alternative to Abkhazia’s alliance with Moscow, as there is little to no support within Abkhazia for reducing its partnership—or dependency—on Russia. "We need someone who can talk to Russia and find solutions that benefit both sides," says Sukhum resident Amra Ladariya, a retired pensioner. However, it is unclear whether Moscow, which has spent years pressuring Abkhazia to accept the inevitable entry of major real estate players into its market (projects under the investment agreement start at 2 billion rubles), will be willing to consider alternative scenarios.
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“Until now, Abkhazians have managed to delay certain decisions, make promises, offer concessions, or secure compromises,” explains Olesya Vartanyan, a researcher specialising in security issues in the Caucasus. “But I think Moscow’s patience has worn thin. They now want to see concrete action. That’s why we’re witnessing problems with electricity supplies, tangerine exports, and tourism. These are clear signals to the local elites: not only will there be no renegotiations, but even basic conveniences could be at risk.”
Theoretically, Vartanyan notes, Abkhazia has had opportunities to foster relationships with international partners despite its dependence on Russia. For example, emergency medical supplies were brought in during the COVID-19 pandemic.
“There are precedents in Abkhazia’s history where international organisations stepped in, easing Moscow’s pressure and helping resolve crises, particularly humanitarian ones. It seems like Abkhazia is currently facing such a crisis,” she says. “But I see no signs that anyone in Sukhum is considering this, and frankly, I am afraid the world is too preoccupied with other problems to pay attention.”
Both those who worked with the ousted president Bzhania and opposition figures remain confident that, with careful negotiations in Moscow, the contentious issue of construction and real estate ownership can continue to be discussed without immediate legislative consequences.
“The sanctions currently imposed on Abkhazia are likely the brainchild of those overseeing the region now,” says journalist Inal Khashig. “But will those same people be in charge of Abkhazia tomorrow? I doubt that Russia is prepared to maintain sanctions against friendly Abkhazia over a prolonged period.”
For now, Khashig, like all Abkhaz residents, is adjusting to a strict schedule dictated by the energy crisis. “Electricity is provided for one hour and twenty minutes in the morning and again for another hour and twenty in the afternoon,” he explains. “In the morning, you have to do everything—cook breakfast, wash up—in that short window. Then you get another hour and twenty in the afternoon. I am still figuring out how to best use that time.”
The views expressed in this commentary are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect those of AbkhazWorld.