I had the privilege to spend the last month in Tbilisi, the capital city of Georgia, which is a land with over 3,000 years of history. In fact, many know of it from the story of Jason and the Argonauts. When they set out to find the Golden Fleece, it turns out they headed to the area east of the Black Sea, where modern Georgia is today.1
For millennia, people have fought over this land. One major conflagration occurred in 1795 when Persia razed the city—hence many of the buildings in Tbilisi aren’t older than 1800s (though that’s still darn old!). There was, however, a fortress from the 3rd Century AD and a Zoroastrian Temple from the 2nd century just up the hill from our apartment. In other words, the city and the land have been around for a long time and have proved resilience through wave after wave of conquest.
What was particularly fascinating about life in the bustling metropolis of 1.1 million people was how chaotic it was, and yet, and yet, there was an order to it—a controlled chaos that can offer many lessons for navigating the polycrisis.
Road (Lack of) Rules
I’m from the U.S. and its customs and norms are my default setting. I expect there to be stop signs at corners, maybe even street lights, I expect lane lines, and if there’s a traffic circle, I expect the car in the circle to have the right of way. Those rules did not apply, ever, in Georgia.
In Old Tbilisi, where I lived, signs and street lights did not exist. All drivers just slowed down and nudged their way into the intersection and if there weren’t other cars, proceeded. If there was another car, they both kept nudging forward—chicken style—until someone backed off. That actually was true with crossing the street as a pedestrian too. Drivers often ignored you even when you were crossing until they had to slam on their brakes (though they did stop). But quickly I learned to time my crossings—Frogger-style—so there was clarity on who got to go first.
Most fascinating was that drivers typically put themselves first. If they wanted to turn left and someone was already trying to turn left, they’d make a new left lane (where none existed) to the right of the left-turner and steal the first’s visibility and hence go first. I saw that countless times—but instead of getting angry, drivers just saw that as normal.
While all that sounds chaotic—well, it was! And yet, there was an almost flow-like state to it. It almost always worked. Once I heard (and saw the aftermath) of an accident where it didn’t. And once I saw what happens when everyone puts themselves first. There was an accident on the highway and bumper to bumper traffic coming back into Tbilisi. As we got on the road to get onto the highway, the lane in the other direction had become a second lane to enter the highway. The whole entry became frozen and unmoving (and a mess when an ambulance tried to get past).
As you read this, you may think, all that sounds stressful and dangerous. And I’d agree, but it functioned. And the rules didn’t depend on lights and electricity, just road customs. If the U.S. grid failed, what would driving look like?
Now, of course, I’m not suggesting we intentionally transition to this system (though ironically I was more comfortable allowing my son to navigate these streets alone than I am letting him cross Route 66 near our house in Middletown where several people have been hit and killed in the seven years we’ve lived here). But as our system fails, are there other systems that don’t rely on lights, cameras, and even metal signs (which might also be stolen and smelted as people starve)? There’s an important opportunity to explore and learn cross-culturally from different urban systems, particularly those that function well with far less inputs.2
The Street Life of Dogs
Another fascinating bit of controlled chaos was the number of feral cats and dogs that make the streets of Tbilisi their homes. We became friends with one cat, who lived around the corner from us. We didn’t feed her, but she still came over to us each time we passed and got a head rub. I was skittish at first, unaware of whether they carry disease, but over time it was nice to see these non-human neighbors. One dog, a black and white one, camped out right in front of the Black Dog Bar, which felt like something out of a movie. (And no, this dog wasn’t the bar’s).
All the street dogs had ear tags—green, yellow or red. I was told when I arrived that this had to do with their friendliness level, but with me being cautious around dogs, I didn’t pet any. I’m glad I didn’t! As I learned while I wrote this, the tags’ colors have more to do with which agency or NGO tagged them. And the tags mean the dogs have been spayed or neutered and vaccinated against rabies (and depending on the agency possibly other diseases).
Now, this is a weird one for me. Generally speaking I’m against feral animal populations—particularly 33,000 dogs roaming city streets as the NGO Mayhew Georgia estimated was the population in Tbilisi in 2023. Cats are hunting local birds and wildlife, dogs can be threatening and hurt people or be a nuisance (yes, like people) and pass on disease (Mayhew noted that no rabies vaccine is 100%).3 But somehow it worked here in this environment that thrives on chaos. Rarely did I see an aggressive dog (and remember just once when one barked scarily at a food delivery driver). Again, could this paint the way as pets are abandoned in the throes of economic collapse? Will there be ways to sustainably manage these public common pets as fewer folks can have pets of their own?
The Conquest of Consumerism
The culture was so rich in Tbilisi: from Georgia’s 3,000 year role in developing wines, its unique script (which made navigating the city really hard), to its arts—including an amazing puppet theater and globally-known artists (a Georgian sculptor made the “Good Defeats Evil” statue of St. George slaying the nuclear beast statue in front of the United Nations). And of course, there is the legacy the country inherited from the Soviet Union—from the metro system to the fact that it was the birth place of Joseph Stalin (His real name was Ioseb Dzhugashvili, but he Russified his name, which in both languages means steel).4
And yet. As I walked along the streets of Tbilisi, I could see the latest invasion, and the methodological conquest of western brands. There seemed to be more Dunkin Donuts in Tbilisi than in Boston! My wife noted that when she was there in 2022, the restaurants in the airport were Georgian. This time, there was a Wendy’s and a Dunkin. Indeed there were enough Dunkin Donuts that some had already failed (like a shuttered one I discovered in a metro station).
Near Parliament the brand madness grew exponentially of course—with Nike, Adidas, Burberry and more all catering to the Georgian elites and to the tourists. As with all places, will the richness of the Georgian culture succumb to the cookie-cutter franchisization of their food and retail?
Culture’s Role in Resilience
I’m optimistic that the Georgian culture will prove resilient. I saw many paintings from 30, 50, even 100 years ago, labeled “Old Tbilisi.” Not much looks to have changed—the buildings still look old, some scarily so.5 Just as Georgia maintained its culture and identity under the rule of the Soviet Union (even as the Soviets slaughtered and imprisoned the cultural, political and economic elite), I think Georgia has enough richness and history that as consumer brands fail (as globalization implodes with the collapse of climate stability) its culture and economy will persist.6 Already there are hundreds of people selling vegetables (making probably a few dollars a day) in stands across the city. Others are selling old Soviet books. Others still are cooking, making things, driving, extracting wealth from tourists one tour at a time (a time-honored tradition). People are making do, surviving, feeding others’ bodies and minds, and under the constant din of chaos, you can see a highly functional and resilient system. One that may actually offer the people better outcomes than the U.S. (People were visibly healthier—and thinner—than in the U.S.)7
This all, of course, does not bode well for the future of the fully consumerized culture of the United States. As systems fail, what will fill in the gaps left by our 13,658 McDonalds, our 6,606 Burger Kings, our 5,968 Wendy’s, and 9,853 Dunkin Donuts? Can we imagine local farmers once again growing food and local retirees manning veggie stands around American towns and cities (perhaps in abandoned fast food joints)? I worry that for the U.S., with its much blander, younger, and extremely consumption and entertainment-oriented culture, this type of ‘Oh our country collapsed and now I have to sell vegetables on a street corner to survive’ attitude will be difficult to muster. Too many will instead seek out the populist path, or the gang path, or the just give up and die path.
The puppet show we went to, Alfred and Violetta, about love during the time of the Soviet collapse, captured this tension perfectly. At one point Violetta and her friends are trying to get back to Tbilisi and have to avoid the many gangs who are under the sway of populist leaders who are seizing businesses at gunpoint and selling them off to their followers. Is that an inevitable outcome of political and economic collapse, or are there cultural traits that help inoculate against this? If so, which countries have it, and for those that don’t, are there ways to give them a booster, now, before it’s too late, and maybe an ear tag to boot, so people know that they don’t need to be so afraid of what’s coming their way?8
Endnotes
1) Fun fact 1: The Golden Fleece might just have meant there was so much gold dust floating in their rivers that you could use a sheep skin to catch gold dust in the wool fibers. So it was more about the place (like South America to the early explorers) than the mythical object.
2) Speed bumps on streets (especially long open roads when encountering villages) were common. That’s an easy and effective way to shape driving behavior. I also just read a review of a new book Fewer Rules, Better People in The Economist. I’m not sure if the author discusses road rules, but there is certainly evidence that a lack of rules requires people to drive more consciously and cautiously.
3) And it turns out you can’t drink alcohol while getting the series of five vaccines. So, along with worrying about dying, if I had been bitten, I would not have been able to drink the tasty Georgian wine, beer, and chacha that the country is known for. Fun fact 2: the first archaeological evidence of wine production was found in Georgia, and they have over 500 hundred grape varietals—a sixth of the world’s varieties—which is pretty amazing.
4) Not only did we go to the Stalin museum but his underground printing press. Hidden in a well under a house in Tbilisi, this press churned out pro-Communist manifestos in several languages and distributed them in about a dozen countries. While the Internet means we can get the word out much more easily, I do wonder if the difficulty in printing and the risk involved meant only the most important words were set to paper.
5) The cornice of one building actually broke off while we were there.
6) With about a fifth of Georgia occupied by Russia, there were also countless “Fuck Russia” graffiti tags on walls and even staircases. That clear external invader, unlike the CEOs of Subway, McDonalds, and Dunkin, is easier to resist and rally against.
7) Perhaps this also has to do with the abundant fruits growing across the city. While few homes had yards, most seemed to have grapevines or fig trees growing in them. I even saw a few fig trees wildly growing in basement window ports. In other words, even the non-human residents of Tbilisi are resilient!
8) Bonus endnote! There were so many other weird and wild things I witnessed on the streets of Tbilisi, including Crypto ATMs. I still don’t quite understand this (or crypto itself!) but it was fascinating (and here’s an interesting article on the topic). The city seems to have a frenetic energy that may also prove essential in its navigating the global polycrisis.
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