Eleni Xenou
Let me clarify from the outset: I do not align with those who view Fidias’s presence in politics as a healthy development, nor do I support the notion that his election represents a "revolutionary" challenge to the failures of our political system. On the contrary, I believe his presence reflects the other side of the same coin—a coin marked by shallowness, lack of deep thought, and an overwhelming lightness that suffocates us like dust. With that said, let me get to the point.
Recently, Fidias released a video where he and his Turkish Cypriot counterpart, another influencer, attempted—albeit in a simplistic but nonetheless humane and gentle manner—to convey that it is time to move beyond our traumatic past and live together in peace. What followed is far more troubling than any "simplistic," as some serious commentators have called it, approach by the two influencers to our national issue. The video was met with swearing, fanaticism, and an online "stoning" because it supposedly "equates the abuser with the victim." Even if this flood of criticism represents only a small portion of the population, it still gives serious cause for concern among thoughtful citizens. I shudder to think that this segment may not be so small, though the signs of the times lead me in that direction.
Despite official statements to the contrary, the unspoken message behind these "significant" posts suggests that the narrative preserving trauma—and the validation of that trauma—remains entrenched, with no real effort to move closer to the salvation of our country and our collective soul.
It’s truly surprising that the target of this online "stoning" is Fidias's video, rather than, for example, Mr. Tornaritis’s post, where he writes, "Famagusta, our queen, hold on a little longer, we will return." Or Ms. Demetriou's post, which ends with the unacceptable phrase: "Until we return, until we worship our sacred soil, until we are truly free." Why do we tolerate this fallacy of "real freedom of our sacred soil," which has been propagated for fifty years by careerist politicians to placate the suffering public for their own gain? Why haven’t we developed the political maturity to denounce it as an insult to our intelligence and dignity, but instead, we criticize Fidias's video?
We don’t react when a RIK journalist prevents Ms. Marangou from expressing her opinion on Famagusta because it doesn’t "serve" the purpose of his show, which is to promote the memory of trauma rather than exploring ways to overcome it. We don’t rush to respond when DIKO resurrects Makarios and Spyros Kyprianou in its election campaign, choosing to maintain the "myth" of leaders who should have been discredited long ago for the harm they caused to the Cyprus issue. Why don’t we "stone" them online, along with the many other politicians who, with dark motives, keep us trapped in a false sense of vindication that they equate with patriotism because it serves their interests?
Ms. Holguín stated clearly in her open letter: "Cypriots could have a brighter future if they could overcome the history of suffering. Only then will they be open to change and believe in a hopeful alternative." If this is what we truly want, then Fidias's video causes no harm—in fact, it may do the opposite. It is those who insist on keeping us trapped in a narrative of suffering whom we should finally begin to hold accountable.
[This article was translated from its Greek original]
