History of Poti

One could say that Poti is among the oldest cities in Georgia—rivaling even Kutaisi in ancientness—particularly if we identify it with the fabled Phasis of the ancient Greeks. That Phasis was also situated somewhere on the southern bank of the Rioni River, near the sea. It was founded by settlers from the Greek city of Miletus during the period of Hellenic colonization along the Black Sea coast.

This location is indirectly referenced in Apollonius of Rhodes’ epic poem Argonautica. According to Apollonius, it was at the mouth of the Rioni—known then as Phasis—that the sacred grove of Ares was located, where the legendary Golden Fleece was guarded. Intriguingly, the fleece was said to hang from a tall oak tree, echoing in a rather uncanny fashion the famous line: “a golden chain on that oak tree”:

404. Twilight forever reigns. There the fleece atop a towering oak hangs.

405. A fearsome serpent keeps vigil, monstrous in form,

406. Casting its gaze all around, a watchful guardian whose eyes,

407. Know not the sweetness of slumber—by day nor by night.

The resemblance is striking—so much so that it’s almost certain Pushkin borrowed his iconic imagery from Apollonius. Which means, in a way, that Pushkin’s “green oak by the bay” is about none other than Poti.

In 65 BCE, Pompey the Great passed through this region during his renowned campaign in the Caucasus.

By the 6th century CE, Phasis had grown into a prominent and bustling port within the boundaries of the Kingdom of Lazica (Egrisi). In 541, the Great Lazic War began, as the Persians attempted to wrest control of the region from the Byzantines. The opening battles were fought over the fortress of Petra, but by the war’s end, in the spring of 555, the Persian general Nachoragan laid siege to Phasis. What followed was one of the most significant battles in the history of the Caucasus: 60,000 Persians with siege equipment confronted 20,000 defenders—Greeks, Berbers, Laz, and Isaurians. The battle concluded with the decisive rout of the Persian army. It marked the final major conflict of the Lazic War, after which Persia abandoned its ambitions in Colchis. It was likely also the last time the people of Phasis—now Poti—ever saw living war elephants.

Yet, enthusiasts of classical antiquity may be disappointed to learn that Phasis itself has long since vanished. Its precise location remains uncertain. While large quantities of ancient ceramics have been discovered in the area, no foundations or stone walls have been unearthed. Ruins of fortifications once stood slightly east of present-day Poti, but these were obliterated in 1960 during the construction of an airfield. That project erased what may have been the last tangible traces of ancient Phasis.

Modern Poti was likely founded by the Ottomans toward the end of the 16th century.

In 1578, the Ottoman army entered Eastern Georgia and took measures to assert influence over the western part as well. At the time, the mouth of the Rioni River was part of the Principality of Mingrelia, which was virtually independent of the Imeretian kings. That very year, a civil war erupted between rival Mingrelian princes Giorgi Dadiani and Mamia Dadiani.

The Ottoman commander Lala Pasha ordered the construction of a fortress at the river’s mouth—named “Fash.” Lacking stone, it was built from earth and timber. The Imeretian monarchs, seeking peaceful relations with the Ottomans, did not oppose its construction, while the Dadiani princes were preoccupied with their internal conflict.

In 1640, the Imeretian army seized the Fash fortress and transported all its cannons to Kutaisi.

In November 1672, the French traveler Jean Chardin visited the Rioni delta. By then, the area was deserted and ships no longer anchored there, choosing instead to stop further upriver. Chardin meticulously explored the delta, hoping to uncover remnants of antiquity, but found only the ruins of the Turkish-built Fash:

“On one of these western islets lie the remnants of a fortress erected by the Turks in 1578, during their wars with the Persians. It was ordered by Sultan Murad or more precisely, by his commander-in-chief, Mustafa. This Sultan aspired to conquer the northern and eastern shores of the Black Sea. He dispatched his galleys up the Phasis River, but the King of Imereti ambushed them at a narrow bend, crushing Murad’s fleet—sending one galley to the bottom and the rest into retreat.”

The fortress of Fash was recaptured in 1640 by the united forces of Imereti, Mingrelia, and Guria. It was demolished to its foundations, and the twenty-five cannons it housed were transported by royal command to the fortress of Kotatis, where they remained—until they once again fell into Ottoman hands when the Turks retook the fortress.

In 1703, the Ottoman army marched the full length of the Black Sea coast, although Poti is not specifically mentioned. In 1723, Ottoman engineers Mehmed Ağa and Yâkub Halîfe surveyed the coastline and proposed building a new fortress on the site of old Fash. The decision was made on December 23, 1723, and construction began in March 1724. Stones were brought from faraway Hopa, and it took five years to complete the structure. Finished in 1729, the fortress featured a four-bastion layout with gates at each cardinal point. The bastions were named Bina Emini, Kethüdâ Paşa, İsmâil Paşa, and Osman Paşa. The total perimeter exceeded 100 meters.

Poti quickly gained a grim reputation as a hub for the slave trade. At the time, there were two primary routes for transporting captives to the Ottoman Empire: one via Baghdati, and the other via Poti. The former was mostly used by the Imeretians, the latter by the Mingrelians. This continued until 1767, when the Ottoman Empire formally agreed to the abolition of the slave trade in the Kingdom of Imereti. Nevertheless, illicit trafficking likely persisted for some time afterward.

When Russia launched its campaign to seize Crimea, it also attempted to take Poti in 1771—but failed. At that time, the fortress housed a garrison of about 188 men. Poti was not only a vital port on the Black Sea but a crucial piece in the regional geopolitical puzzle. When Russia annexed the Principality of Mingrelia, it did so partly to secure access to Poti, which eventually led to the conquest of the Kingdom of Imereti as well.

Using Mingrelia as a base, the Russian army attacked Poti in May 1809 but was again repelled. However, a second siege began on November 14, and this time, with no reinforcements arriving, the garrison commander, Memish Agha, surrendered. In the 1812 Treaty of Bucharest, Russia ceded Poti back to the Ottomans. The Turks then undertook a serious renovation of the fortress, reinforcing the existing defenses and adding several wooden redoubts.

In 1828, Russian forces again laid siege to the fortress. After thirteen days, on June 12, the Turks capitulated. Poti was subordinated to the Kutaisi Governorate, and plans were drawn to develop it into a major port city. However, implementation was slow, and Poti did not officially gain city status until 1858.

In February 1859, Alexandre Dumas visited Poti and witnessed its official recognition as a city. He described the event with characteristic flair:

“We heard the sound of drums. Eager not to miss what little entertainment Poti could offer, we stepped onto the street-facing balcony. A poor fellow making public announcements paused—not at every crossroads (Poti has none), nor at every street corner (there are no streets either), but in front of each house—there were maybe fifteen in total. His circuit was brief. He beat the drum, read out a proclamation, and the residents, drawn outside by the noise, listened with indifference.”

Dumas stayed eight days in Poti before boarding a steamer to Trebizond. Onboard, he encountered a group of Circassians transporting women to Istanbul to be sold—evidence that the Black Sea slave trade, sadly, still endured.

For the Russian Empire, having a reliable deep-water port on the eastern coast of the Black Sea was both a military necessity and an economic imperative. Yet the Black Sea shoreline—marshy, shifting, and vulnerable to storms—offered few suitable locations. Still, Poti was chosen as the most viable site, not least because of its strategic position at the mouth of the Rioni River, linking maritime and inland trade.

Numerous proposals were floated to construct a proper harbor, but technical challenges and bureaucratic inertia delayed the process for decades. In 1863, Poti’s fortunes took a dramatic turn with the arrival of Niko Nikoladze—a Georgian journalist, social reformer, and visionary civic leader. Appointed as the mayor of Poti, Nikoladze undertook the transformation of the town from a forgotten military outpost into a burgeoning industrial and commercial hub.

He initiated sweeping infrastructure reforms, beginning with the expansion of the port itself. Dredging operations deepened the harbor basin. Quays were constructed, warehouses erected, and the wharves modernized to receive ocean-going steamers. The Rioni River was harnessed for shipping, and a modern customs facility was established to manage trade flows. Under his guidance, Poti became not only a vital node in the empire’s Black Sea trade routes but also the linchpin for economic exchange between Transcaucasia and Europe.

Nikoladze also understood the power of connectivity. He spearheaded the construction of the Poti-Tbilisi railway, completed in 1872—the first railway in Georgia. The line linked the coast to the interior, making Poti the western terminus of the critical transport corridor that would eventually extend to Baku, tying the Black Sea to the Caspian. Oil from the fields of Baku could now be transported by rail to Poti and shipped to world markets.

Under his administration, the city flourished. Public schools, administrative offices, and cultural institutions began to appear. Poti acquired telegraph lines, a municipal water supply, and street lighting. The population swelled, with merchants, workers, engineers, and adventurers arriving from all parts of the empire and beyond. Poti began to resemble a true cosmopolitan port city—bustling, energetic, and open to the world.

With the dawn of the 20th century, Poti entered a turbulent period. As the empire trembled under revolutionary pressures, the city’s workers and dockhands joined the waves of strikes and demonstrations that swept across the Caucasus. In 1905, labor unrest erupted in the port, and the red flags of revolution flew over its quays. These early stirrings of protest foreshadowed the larger transformations soon to come.

After the Russian Revolution of 1917 and the brief independence of the Democratic Republic of Georgia (1918–1921), Poti played a vital role in the fledgling state. Its port was one of the few gateways to the outside world for the newly declared republic, bringing in foreign diplomats, supplies, and occasionally arms.

However, in 1921, the Red Army invaded Georgia, and the country was annexed into the Soviet Union. Poti, like the rest of the nation, fell under Bolshevik control. The port was nationalized, and its role shifted to serve the needs of Soviet industrialization. Over the following decades, Poti evolved into a major maritime and logistics center within the USSR.

Soviet authorities expanded shipyards, warehouses, and freight terminals. The port was fortified and modernized to meet the demands of the planned economy. It handled bulk goods—coal, manganese, timber, and, increasingly, oil. The once-lively cosmopolitanism gave way to the standardized, regulated life of a Soviet city. But even so, Poti remained an important link between the Caucasus and the wider world, though now under tightly controlled conditions.

After Georgia regained its independence in 1991, Poti again faced a period of uncertainty. The post-Soviet transition brought economic hardship, infrastructural decay, and a decline in port activity. Yet over time, efforts were made to reestablish Poti as a key economic gateway for Georgia.

In the 2000s, the Georgian government and international partners launched major initiatives to develop a free industrial zone (FIZ) in Poti, attracting foreign investment and revitalizing trade. The port was modernized once more, equipped with container terminals and modern cargo facilities. It now handles thousands of vessels annually and plays a central role in Georgia’s ambitions to be a regional logistics hub, linking Europe and Asia via the so-called “Middle Corridor.”

Today, Poti remains a city of historical layers—where Greek legends, Ottoman intrigues, imperial ambitions, Soviet industry, and modern globalization converge. The winds that blow through its streets still carry echoes of the Argonauts’ oars, of Persian elephants, of Ottoman cannons and oil-fueled trains. And beneath the waters of its harbor, the ghosts of ancient Phasis may still slumber, waiting for history to remember them once more.