This present article is part of a series of articles published as part of the “Europe - What if?” Campaign by JEF Europe, within the project CompletEU framework. Its aim is to acknowledge that Europe is not limited to the European Union. Therefore, we invite our readers to examine the complex relationship the EU has with non-EU countries in Europe and how this relationship could develop in the future.

In a year defined by war and political reckoning, Europe finds itself at a crossroads. The Council of Europe’s €150 billion “ReArm Europe” initiative is not merely about strengthening military capabilities—it’s about safeguarding the fragile idea of peace in a post-Cold War world that is once again fracturing along ideological lines. As missiles fall on Ukrainian cities and tanks inch across contested frontlines, the European Union faces a defining question: How far does its protection extend? And who is left standing at the gates, still waiting to be let in?

One such country is Georgia, a nation whose modern history mirrors Ukraine’s in more ways than one. Both emerged from the wreckage of the Soviet Union with aspirations of Western integration and bitter encounters with Russian aggression. In 2008, long before the world fixated on Donbas or Crimea, Georgia experienced its own brutal reminder of imperial revanchism. When Russian troops invaded, over 80,000 ethnic Georgians and Ossetians were displaced, according to the Norwegian Refugee Council. The international community condemned the violence, but the aftermath was marked by silence and occupation.

More than a decade later, Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 served as a grim vindication of Georgia’s long-ignored warnings. In response, Georgia, Ukraine, and Moldova submitted simultaneous applications for EU membership. For a brief moment, it seemed as if Europe might finally recognize the shared urgency for EU accession among its eastern neighbors. Ukraine, Moldova, and Georgia were granted candidate status.

In November 2024, the relationship between the EU and Georgia took a troubling turn. Following a European Parliament resolution that condemned Georgia’s most recent parliamentary election as “neither free nor fair,” the ruling Georgian Dream party abruptly halted all progress toward EU integration. Prime Minister Irakli Kobakhidze announced that Georgia would refuse EU grants and suspend all budget support negotiations until at least 2028, with the accession process postponed until 2030, if the country is deemed economically ready.

The response from the Georgian public was immediate and unambiguous. Protesters flooded the streets, demanding transparency, accountability, and a future firmly rooted in Europe. These were not isolated gatherings. They were the manifestation of a national identity crisis: between a government increasingly leaning toward authoritarian tactics and a population striving to affirm its European destiny.

Security forces met the peaceful demonstrators with tear gas, water cannons, and mass arrests. But brute force did not break their will. When violent suppression failed, the state turned to subtler forms of coercion: anonymous threats, targeted harassment, and heavy fines intended to sap the energy of the movement. Still, the crowds persisted, undeterred by fear. In the flags they waved and the slogans they chanted, one message rang louder than the rest: Georgia is Europe.

This movement is not unfolding in a vacuum. The same tremors of political reorientation can be felt across the South Caucasus. In March 2025, Armenia, a country long regarded as Russia’s closest regional ally, passed legislation to begin the formal process of EU accession. The shift is staggering, not just in its symbolism, but in its geopolitical weight. After years of relying on Moscow for security guarantees in the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, Yerevan has found those promises hollow. Russia’s inaction during Azerbaijan’s recent offensives has left Armenians disillusioned and ready to pivot West.

Armenia’s path to Europe, however, runs through Georgia. As a landlocked country, Armenia’s future integration into European markets and infrastructure depends on Georgian cooperation and accessibility. This creates a paradoxical but powerful reality: Georgia’s own EU accession is now a strategic prerequisite for the region’s broader European integration. In a sense, Georgia is not just fighting for itself; it is carrying the hopes of its neighbors, too.

The political implications are clear, but so are the human ones. For young Georgians, EU membership is more than a geopolitical milestone, but rather a promise of democratic stability, economic opportunity, and cultural recognition. It is the right to belong to a union that upholds human rights, the rule of law, and the dignity of its citizens. That vision, however, is slipping further from reach under the current administration.

Yet even amid repression, a different kind of power is growing - grassroots determination. The resolve of Georgian civil society, students, and pro-democracy activists suggests that the country’s European future may not be forged in government chambers but in public squares, on picket lines, and through international solidarity. As Europe debates how to rearm, it must also consider where to reinvest its political capital. Supporting Georgia’s democratic aspirations should not be an afterthought - it should be central to the EU’s vision of long-term continental security.

The ReArm Europe campaign goes beyond just weapons and deterrence; it aims to defend the ideals that the European Union claims to uphold. If the EU is genuinely committed to promoting its values beyond its current borders, it cannot abandon its partnership with Georgia and the Georgian people, despite the tumultuous circumstances.

Because the front line of European democracy doesn’t end in Brussels or Berlin—it stretches all the way to Tbilisi.