The Georgian Church at a Breaking Point: The Beginning of a New Era and the End of the Old

Shifts, power realignments, and transformations that will reshape Georgia’s social and political reality

Author: Gocha Mirtskhulava, Analyst

The next three to five years will be one of the most consequential periods for the Georgian Orthodox Church—years that will define its internal trajectory, institutional renewal, and exert significant influence on the country’s development.

All the behind-the-scenes processes already visible to informed observers make it clear that we are indeed standing at the threshold of a new epoch—one that may quietly, yet irreversibly, alter the long-standing status quo of the Church.

For some segments of the population, this turning point may appear unexpected. But for those who have been watching the Church’s internal life closely, it has been evident that over the past decade the institution has been entering a difficult phase.

This is why we must look reality squarely in the eye: for almost three decades, the Georgian Orthodox Church has been the most trusted institution in the country.

This trust did not stem solely from religious sentiment. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, many people found in the Church not only spiritual solace but a new sense of “protection.” In many ways, this was a historical, psychological, and social reaction—a symbolic act of replacing the Communist Party membership card with a cross. The fact remains: the Church became the cornerstone of national identity.

The Church also received a special status from the state—through the Concordat, which granted it extensive privileges and made it an active participant in social and political processes. At the same time, Georgia’s low civic culture and widespread misunderstanding of the principles of secularism often pulled the Church into areas where it had neither the right nor the obligation to be involved—yet it still entered them “in the name of the faithful.”

At various times, we even witnessed outright forms of political blackmail, when the Patriarchate used the authority of the Church to manipulate political processes.

Throughout the past decade, the Church’s authority has persistently collided with three powerful challenges.
First—political interference, when the Patriarchate legitimized concrete state decisions.
Second—internal divisions, which have been particularly visible since 2017 (the cyanide case and the appointment of the locum tenens).
Third—Russian influence, which existed through multiple channels and remains deeply rooted even today.

One simply cannot discuss the Georgian Church without addressing the Russian context.
Russia has used—and continues to use—the Church as an instrument of geopolitical influence. This influence operates through three mechanisms: political “soft power,” ideological-informational pressure, and direct personal connections with parts of the higher clergy.

The impact of certain clerics trained in Russia—and their use in advancing Russian interests—has been repeatedly demonstrated. This system developed over many years and carried with it theological and ideological dependencies. Alongside this were ties to local conservative groups that often reproduced Russian propaganda narratives under the label of “traditional values.”

What is particularly notable is that some Georgian media outlets—despite not being official channels of Russian propaganda—frequently echoed or amplified these imported narratives to the point that they became inadvertent transmitters.

The second mechanism was ideological pressure, revolving around the theme of “the West’s spiritual decay”—a narrative still active today. The messages reinforcing this idea became so widespread that many citizens could no longer distinguish between genuine theology and propagandistic content.

The third—and perhaps the most serious—mechanism consisted of personal connections. Some bishops openly demonstrated closeness to Russian circles, while others maintained these ties discreetly. Visits to Russia, business interests, organizational networks, and even unabashed pro-Russian statements formed a hidden web within the Church, influencing positions, decisions, and occasionally ecclesiastical policy.

All this has unfolded despite the fact that the Georgian Church is officially autocephalous and does not formally fall under the jurisdiction of the Russian Church.
Thus, we must acknowledge that the problem was never legal autocephaly—the problem has always been, and still is, the political, cultural, and ideological attachment that parts of the institution maintain with Russia.

Since 2020, the contours of forthcoming change within the Church have become increasingly visible. This shift is primarily connected to a new generation—educated, with Western academic exposure, different intellectual instincts, and a more modern ethos. This generation not only altered the Church’s public tone, previously marked by rigidity, but also created expectations that it would soon become an influential force within the institution.

Another catalyst has been the decline in public trust. The cyanide case, the leaked SSG files, scandals, and internal accusations gradually created the impression that the Church stood at the center of political and material conflicts.

This coincided with the intellectual maturation of Georgian society. The youth and the country’s intellectual circles no longer accept the dogma of the Church’s infallibility; they demand transparency, public accountability, and responses to issues on which the Church remained silent for years: violence, child protection and rights, women’s rights, mental health, sexual education, and more.

Against this backdrop, it is natural to ask: What lies ahead?

An analysis of current trends highlights three realistically possible scenarios.

The first scenario is reformist transformation.
This would be a quiet yet fundamental change.
A combination of new-generation clergy, an educated public, and active youth would form the critical mass necessary to force the Church to reorder its priorities.
This scenario would bring cautious renewal in the hierarchy, a weakening of Russian influence, a deeper respect for secular principles, and the strengthening of modern theological approaches.
In this case, the Church would retain public trust while entering a more balanced and healthier phase.

The second scenario is a period of open confrontation, which is highly plausible.
The sharp conflict between old and new forces could bring to light many issues currently hidden from the broader public.
Mutual accusations among clerics, disputes between hierarchs, and internal institutional battles would affect not only the Church but also the country’s political stability.

In such conditions, Russia would undoubtedly attempt to reinforce its influence—crisis has always been a strategic opportunity for the Kremlin.

Yet all current evidence suggests that ultimately, progressive forces would prevail. They enjoy public support, social legitimacy, and the trajectory of historical trends. To avoid a modern form of “Russian-style clerical autocracy,” the reactionary forces will eventually be compelled to yield ground.

The third scenario—conservative stagnation—is the least likely.
This would entail no meaningful change:
the same hierarchy, the same influence networks, the same Russian linkages.
In this scenario, the Church would remain formally strong but lose its real authority.
Young people would distance themselves, public trust would erode, and the Church would risk drifting away from its own flock.

The processes expected within the Church are heavily connected to political developments as well.
The year 2026 is likely to become a “year of speaking out”—both inside the Church and in society.
Conflicts previously confined to the shadows will become public.
The classic pattern of polarization will emerge: two opposing camps—conservative and reformist.
It is also possible that a third camp of “neutrals” will take shape, especially under the first or second scenario, attempting to play a mediating role.
From a political-strategic perspective, the formation of such a group is both logical and useful, though once its mission is fulfilled, its influence will fade.

By 2027, relations with other autocephalous Churches are likely to become strained; the illusion of internal unity within the Georgian Church will dissipate.

2028 will be a year of inevitable power shifts—affecting both the state and the Church.

From 2029 onward, genuine change will begin: the Church will gradually disengage from political processes, manipulative hierarchical structures will weaken, and the roles of education and spirituality will grow stronger.

What does all of this mean?

It means that the Georgian Orthodox Church has already entered a new historical phase—one that demands transparency, personal and institutional accountability, respect for secularism, and a more pragmatic, Christ-centered relationship with its people.

Russian influence will persist at the level of individual hierarchs but will collapse structurally.

Through the emergence of an educated, nationally minded, less politicized, and more open new generation of reformers, the foundations of a new ecclesial reality will be laid.

This process may be gradual, but it has already begun—and it cannot be stopped.

Ultimately, the Georgian Church will return to where its true mission lies: in spirituality, not in power.

And yes—perhaps it would be more compelling to illustrate all this by identifying specific individuals. That time will come too—far sooner than many expect.