Some U.S. officials do care, though. Many are alarmed that Russia appears to be eating away at an American ally that has sent around 870 troops to Afghanistan, the most per capita of any country.
Just this week, some 1,170 American service members joined 1,300 Georgian troops for the fourth year of Noble Partner, a joint military exercise that runs until the middle of August.
Georgia is wedged between the Middle East, Russia, Iran, and Turkey, and has become an important corridor for oil pumped from the Caspian Sea. Its geopolitical significance is evidenced by the $100 million the U.S. gives Georgia in annual assistance intended to boost American business, foster democracy and help edge the country’s military toward NATO membership.
“The United States support for Georgia’s sovereignty and territorial integrity is unwavering,” said Elizabeth Rood, chargé d’affaires at the U.S. Embassy in the Georgian capital of Tbilisi.
“We strongly support Georgia in calling out Russia and the de facto separatist regimes on human rights abuses in the occupied territories,” she added, “and on the continued violation of Georgia’s sovereignty and territorial integrity.”
Apart from cash and tough talk, however, many experts say the West is effectively powerless to stop the inching border.
While it’s unclear whether borderization is specifically directed by Moscow or Tskhinvali, the de facto South Ossetian capital, it’s certain it would not be allowed without Putin’s tacit approval.
“The Kremlin had many, many chances over all these years to stop borderization,” said Olesya Vartanyan, an analyst at the International Crisis Group, a nonprofit research organization. “At the very least the Kremlin is not interfering and not telling them to stop.”
Tiny and impoverished, South Ossetia claims to be an independent state, but its administration only scrapes by because of subsidies from the Russian government.
Tens of thousands of refugees fled during and after the war. An estimated fifth of its remaining population of 30,000 are security personnel.
Last year, South Ossetian President Anatoly Bibilov said he wanted to hold a referendum on joining Russia, but that hasn’t happened yet.
Seized territory
Russia and Georgia still blame each other for firing first in 2008, but at some point Russia dispatched tanks and troops, ejected Georgian forces and embarked on what the West saw as two illegitimate occupations.
The roots of the crisis go back to the early 1990s when the Soviet Union fractured and Georgia declared independence.
Ethnic Georgians and Ossetians had lived together peacefully throughout the 20th century, according to Vartanyan at the International Crisis Group.
“People were very integrated, the links were very close and there were many families with marriages from both sides,” she explained in a Tbilisi cafe. “It was a normal thing to marry a Georgian or a Abkhaz or a South Ossetian.”
The breakdown of the state led people to focus on ethnic divisions that simply weren’t apparent before, she said: “When the state system starts collapsing, it’s just very easy to start looking for the reasons why it’s not working anymore.”
The impact of borderization on the region has been devastating.
“This illegal process has inflicted immediate and direct damage on every citizen of Georgia residing adjacent to the occupied territories,” said Nino Giorgobiani, a spokeswoman at Georgia’s State Security Service.
The disputed border is just 25 miles from Georgia’s capital, Tbilisi, a vibrant, cosmopolitan city where historic architecture and traditional culture complement hipster hotels and a burgeoning nightclub and LGBT scene.
A 45-minute drive along the country’s main highway quickly disintegrates into steep gravel tracks and unmarked terrain that’s barely accessible even to a convoy of four-wheel-drive vehicles. Georgian border police armed with assault rifles stand on the side of the dirt road.
Even where there is no barbed wire, residents can be detained for wandering into a field that has been annexed.
Entire communities along the boundary have been cleaved in two, and everyone here seems to have a story about friends or family they have not seen in years.
“I have many relatives there, very close relatives,” said Khuroshvili, the retired policeman. “We call each other by phone … but we cannot go and visit them.”
Vasya, the cattle farmer, laments being unable to visit a nearby graveyard where relatives are buried, pray in his local church or drive farming tools to his land because it is now blocked off by seized territory. As he stands on a dusty track that saw tanks rumble through in 2008, Vasya cuts a lone, stubborn figure; many of his neighbors have already abandoned their homes.
Around two miles away, in the village of Natsreti, dance teacher Nikolos Korashvili is instructing a group of kids in traditional Georgian folk routines.
A few years ago his brother was forced to flee after he woke up to find that the boundary had been moved overnight and was now slicing through his property.