Have you heard the saying: “Whatever the Russians come up with, as long as they don’t build roads”? It is somewhat outdated—the Russians have finally realized that building roads is inevitable, no matter what they come up with.
Now it is time for a new saying: whatever the Abkhazians come up with, as long as they do not admit that they themselves have voluntarily driven into a dead end—and that it was a long-standing dream that led them there: to be with Russia.
No one in the world dreams of being with Russia—everyone either runs away or adapts according to the principle of “relax and enjoy.” Only Abkhazians dreamed of this, and now, decades later, an understanding is dawning on them—the dream has consequences.
So far, this realization is weak. Abkhazians are at the stage of denial and are trying to challenge reality. It is not the Russian system that is to blame—flawed and inhumane—but certain bad actors in the administration of the president of the Russian Federation, who, as it turns out, simply do not understand Abkhaz realities. Once they understand—everything will be fine.
But that is later. For now—new fantasies from the category of “whatever they may come up with.”
They have now recalled an old and seemingly forgotten idea—understanding that they may soon face a shortage of cash, Abkhaz so-called economists have come forward with a stunning initiative: why not introduce our own national currency—the apsar? It will help us replace the ruble.
So that is how it is.
Discussions about introducing the apsar began long ago, but since there were no problems with Russia at the time, they came to nothing.
This is not the only breakthrough idea that was supposedly meant to ensure the independence of Abkhazia’s financial system from the intrusive guardian. Several years ago, at a time when cryptocurrency ceased to be the preserve of financiers and eccentrics and entered the mainstream, certain Russian investors proposed to Abkhazians: why not introduce a national Abkhaz cryptocurrency?
The idea was immediately taken up, and a major conference was even held in Sukhumi on this topic—it is easy to imagine how much money the fathers of this idea, Russian comrades from the cooperative “Horns and Hooves,” made from it.
To clarify for those who do not understand: this was not about existing cryptocurrencies—this is quite a feasible task, as was clearly demonstrated in subsequent years. Even a dart-throwing monkey could mint crypto—if well trained.
But creating one’s own currency is a New Vasyuki of an entirely different level.
As expected, no Abkhaz cryptocurrency ever appeared.
After scratching their heads, the outstanding Abkhaz economists came to the conclusion that to avoid financial difficulties, they need to create their own currency.
One of the initiators of this idea was the economist (in quotation marks) Akhra Aristava, a local Milton Friedman, overflowing with ideas—each more absurd than the last.
It was Akhra Aristava who proposed an idea that is outrageous from the standpoint of real economics: to allow private investors into Abkhazia to purchase energy facilities, but only on the condition that they gift the state 50 percent of the electricity they produce.
Well, such is the “country,” such are its economists.
What is wrong with the idea of creating an Abkhaz national currency? Economic weakness in itself is not a reason why a country cannot have its own currency. If Congo can have its own monetary unit, if countries such as Somalia and Afghanistan have been printing their own banknotes for decades, why can’t Abkhazia do it—what is the reason?
The reason is that the Abkhaz economy, whether good or bad, is an integral part of Russia.
Abkhazia has no financial system of its own, no banks, and, for that matter, an insufficient number of qualified financiers. Sukhumi has no capacity to create its own National Bank to regulate refinancing rates and impose various requirements on commercial banks—which do not exist in nature.
But that is not all. Financiers can be brought in from abroad, trained locally, eventually. The problem is complex but solvable.
The insoluble problem, however, is that Abkhazia is totally tied to Russia.
If we imagine a situation in which Russia stops supplying Abkhazia with cash and providing financial assistance, this would mean that Moscow has begun a complete isolation of Abkhazia.
If this happens, Abkhazia will be left not only without cash—which would be only half the trouble; after all, currency can, in the worst case, be printed. Abkhazia will be left without income.
Direct financial aid will stop—and half of the budget will disappear instantly, in a single stroke.
But over time, the second half—supposedly Abkhaz—will disappear as well. What does it consist of? According to the government of Abkhazia—taxes. The effectiveness of the Abkhaz tax system is difficult to believe in, but let us assume this is so.
What kind of taxes are these? Taxes on businesses that operate thanks to Russia—tourism first and foremost, and everything else. This is all consumer demand that exists due to Russian assistance and Russian tourists.
If Russia seriously decides to take Abkhazia in hand—every source of financing will be cut off. Aslan Bzhania frightened the public with figures: exports from Abkhazia amount to 8 billion rubles, imports to 46.
The figure is impressive, but by itself it says little. It is entirely possible that the gap between imports and exports is covered by tourism, transit, or other services.
The fatal nature of the problem lies in the fact that tourism is Russia as well—and transit is Russia too.
So what do you think—if Russia decides to strangle Abkhazians, closes borders and all sources of money inflow, will the unfortunate apsar help you?
There is no way out of the dead end into which a foolish and self-confident Abkhaz elite has driven itself—at least no way that would leave both wolves fed and sheep intact.
For now, the wolf is not hungry and is not pressing too hard. But if it decides to act, the sheep is finished—with or without the apsar.
Unless the foolish Zainingurians, with their howling about brotherhood, come to the rescue…
Tengiz Ablotia
