I recently travelled to Georgia and Armenia to meet human rights
groups. After two days in Georgia we drove east, the hilly landscape
gradually turning mountainous, sheep and cattle tended by shepherds in
littered, post-Soviet villages. For a long time the road followed a
small river, plastic trash snagging on rocks and branches. This could
have been a landscape of extraordinary beauty; instead it was depleted
and scarred by nearly a century of bad or indifferent governance.
Crossing the border into Armenia, the river was still there, the litter now older, almost indistinguishable from the brown water and grey rock. There were remnants of the Soviet state – giant concrete chutes channelling water from the steep mountains, occasional blocks of flats now, like the rubbish, taking on the colour of the dark earth. In one valley ruins from the earthquake in 1988 stood like archaeological remains.
Crossing the border into Armenia, the river was still there, the litter now older, almost indistinguishable from the brown water and grey rock. There were remnants of the Soviet state – giant concrete chutes channelling water from the steep mountains, occasional blocks of flats now, like the rubbish, taking on the colour of the dark earth. In one valley ruins from the earthquake in 1988 stood like archaeological remains.