Paris Demetriades
"You're only good for carnivals"—a common refrain heard every year during the Limassol Carnival, often spoken with a moralizing, didactic tone by those who disdain the mass, rambunctious, and carefree celebration. These critics stereotype carnival-goers as childish, noisy, tacky, frivolous, and annoying. But for those of us who love carnivals—myself included—hearing the phrase "you're only good for carnivals" is, in fact, a compliment. A flattering remark.
This year, following the tragic death of a five-member family, the topic of the Limassol Carnival was discussed with more intensity in the public sphere. As rightly noted by many socially aware groups and citizens, this shocking and horrific incident is not simply an accident that could happen to anyone; it is a direct consequence of the housing crisis, which has particularly spiraled out of control in the city, where different socio-economic speeds coexist.
As a lifelong lover of carnivals, I feel strongly that neither this year nor during other years, when we’ve faced economic cuts or other crises, should the carnival celebrations be canceled. The will to live, in defiance of death and misery, is at the heart of this non-Christian celebration. I mention this because many people (including this year) have called for its cancellation. But the carnival is existential in nature, even if a significant portion of the population has come to view it as nothing more than a tacky noise nuisance.
Would anyone ever suggest canceling the Christmas and New Year's Eve parties or celebrations welcoming the new year? Unlikely. Would anyone ever call for the prohibition of festive celebrations on Easter Sunday or the Feast of the Assumption on August 15? These are all holidays with Christian—or even non-Christian—roots, but they still occur. The pandemic, of course, is an exception.
To his credit, the Mayor of Limassol, Giannis Armeftis, announced the cancellation of all events on the day of the family’s funeral. As a minimum gesture of respect for the immeasurable grief of the relatives and loved ones, the mayor acted appropriately. While symbolic, this gesture carries some weight. But the real issue lies in the inaction or inadequate actions of the state when it comes to addressing the housing crisis—an issue that has nothing to do with the carnival.
On the other hand, the suggestion to cancel the entire ten-day Limassol Carnival, whether due to the economic crisis, financial cuts, or because of a shocking tragedy with social and political ramifications, completely overlooks the primary significance and essence of the event.
For the impoverished segment of society, to whom attention is supposedly being directed in the wake of this tragedy, the cancellation of the carnival would, in essence, be another blow. Many small and medium-sized businesses depend on the festival for their livelihood, while at the same time, we are talking about a widely accessible, grassroots festival where citizens can enjoy free entertainment on the streets.
*This op-ed was translated from its Greek original
