George Kakouris
I've said many times that the Cyprus problem effectively ended in 2017. Now, we're in a new phase that hasn't yet made clear if we're dealing with the "ghost" of a dead issue or the birth of a new reality. Yet, the way we talk about Cyprus and the context around it won’t let us move on or even take a break.
Politicians and the media still talk in the same old terms. Political parties are always up in arms about tourism in the north and warn us that someone will cave to Turkey’s demands. Meanwhile, the idea of “them over there, us over here” has firmly taken root in people’s minds. We keep getting fed a worldview that, strangely enough, doesn’t reflect how we actually live. This is evident in social media reactions, like those concerning Fidias Panayiotou—a person from a different time and with different values (whether better, worse, or just different).
Commentators and pundits aren’t debating whether Panayiotou is just trying to make a living, seeking validation, or if he’s ignorant and trying to learn. Instead, they slap political labels on him, either condemning or praising him. First, he’s either a far-right figure or apolitical; then, after a video with a Turkish Cypriot influencer, he’s either a traitor or a supporter of peace.
We live in two worlds—one of ideas with the political class and another in the harsh, real world. The issue isn’t what we choose to say or do but the disconnect between how we perceive the situation and what we actually do on the ground. One of the ideas the President tried to put into the conversation during his recent interviews about the 50th anniversary of the Cyprus problem was that he no longer includes the word “just” when discussing a solution. He presents this as a realistic and brave move. But what he’s really doing, by redefining “just,” is keeping alive the core idea of “I don’t forget.”
According to the President, a “just” solution would mean returning to how things were before 1974, which he says isn’t possible. Admitting that going back to that situation isn’t possible is helpful, no matter how we see that pre-1974 period.
This also reflects a truth that many people recognize—the false promises from political leaders, like the idea of all refugees returning. But how the President defines a “just pre-1974 situation” influences what kind of solution we’re looking for and the moral basis for our efforts. Is the “just” situation the 1960 state, which lasted until 1963, with its shared political life and issues that many now see as deeply flawed? Or is it the idea of a Greek state with Turkish Cypriots in enclaves until 1974? Different people have different answers.
If the President wants to tell hard truths, beyond the obvious one that the long-term approach has failed (how could anyone argue otherwise?), he should also admit that the situation before 1974 wasn’t fair either. The injustices that followed don’t erase our own mistakes. A fair solution would involve a new balance between the communities based on mutually accepted rules.
The idea that things were fair before 1974 only serves, at best, a nostalgic view of a time fewer and fewer people remember. At worst, it whitewashes the crimes committed by both the Makarios government and armed groups—Greek and Turkish alike—allowing people to blame only those that suit their political leanings.
But this kind of thinking doesn’t help us plan for the future or figure out what Cyprus might look like in 2034 (if we reach a solution next year). It isn’t helpful because it doesn’t tell citizens what the President doesn’t want to admit: the Cyprus problem is over, and we’re either living in its ghostly afterlife or witnessing the start of something new and uncertain.
[This article was translated by Shemaine Bushnell]
