Shemaine Bushnell Kyriakides
On a scorching Tuesday morning, I drove through a place I had never been before…not really. The UN buffer zone between the Republic and the Turkish-occupied north is often spoken about, reported on, even filmed. But driving through it? That’s something else entirely.
The route to the United Nations Good Offices, tucked near the ghostly remains of the old Nicosia airport, felt like time travel. Faded signage for ice cream and soda clung to crumbling walls. Abandoned buildings stood frozen in time, like props left behind on the set of a forgotten film. I wanted to take pictures…badly. But I was behind the wheel, and I wasn’t sure photography was even allowed. Maybe it’s better that way. Sometimes memory makes the best snapshot.
“It’s not about who’s right and who’s wrong,...It’s about how we move forward.” The problem, as he sees it, is not a lack of solutions, it’s a lack of courage to make them happen.
Past the main gates and crash barriers, we arrived at the UNFICYP offices, where Aleem Siddique, the mission’s Chief of Communications and Spokesperson, greeted me and my cameraman with a firm handshake and a smile that cut through the heat.
We were there for a final interview. A farewell, really. Colin Stewart, the Canadian diplomat and veteran peacekeeper who’s led the United Nations Peacekeeping Force in Cyprus for the last four years, is stepping down next week. After nearly 30 years working in some of the UN’s most challenging missions, from Timor-Leste to Western Sahara, he’s finally retiring. And frankly, he’s earned it.
Born in Ottawa in 1961, Stewart began his diplomatic career in the Canadian foreign service in the early '90s before joining the UN. He’s held high-level posts across the globe, including Acting Chief of Staff in Timor-Leste and Deputy Head of the UN Office to the African Union in Addis Ababa. From 2017 to 2021, he headed MINURSO, the UN mission tasked with overseeing a long-stalled referendum in Western Sahara. And in 2021, António Guterres appointed him Special Representative and head of UNFICYP, placing him at the helm of one of the world’s longest-running peacekeeping operations.
When I walked into Stewart’s office, he greeted me with a warm smile. Still working until the very end, his office was sparse, books packed, shelves nearly bare. “Don’t mind the emptiness,” he said, gesturing to the cleared-out corners. “I’ve already started moving things.”
We set up our cameras, wiped the sweat from our foreheads, and got right to it.
We had a lot to talk about. The Cyprus problem, of course, where it stands now, and whether the dream of reunification still lives on. But more than that, I wanted to understand what’s changing beneath the surface. Young people, both Greek and Turkish Cypriots, are showing signs of moving on. They cross over to party, to holiday, to reconnect. DJs from both sides perform in each other’s towns. Turkish Cypriot cars can be seen heading to beaches in the Republic. There’s less fear. Less fire. But why is there less trust from the leaders?
After nearly four years as the UN’s top man in Cyprus, Colin Stewart is packing up, but not without sharing some hard truths about the state of the island’s frozen conflict.
Speaking candidly, Stewart said the most powerful moments of his tenure weren’t diplomatic breakthroughs, because there weren’t any. What left the biggest mark on him were his encounters with ordinary Cypriots, both Greek and Turkish, who’ve never given up hope for a united future. "Some have spent their whole lives as activists," he said, and their commitment was both moving and motivating.
He also sees promise in the younger generation. Free from the emotional baggage of war and division, Stewart believes many young people remain open and capable of forging new paths toward reconciliation. “There's huge potential,” he said, for youth to challenge the old narratives and “make up their own minds.”
But when it comes to actual progress on reunification, the picture turns grim.
Stewart didn’t sugarcoat it: since the collapse of talks in 2017, the two sides have not only failed to move closer, they’ve drifted further apart. “We’re not even at the base of the mountain,” he said, using a now-familiar metaphor. "We're still walking to the mountain before we can even think about climbing it."
Still, there are small signs of life in the process. Confidence-building measures (CBMs), like the six agreed in March and discussed again in July, are offering some momentum. They’re not game-changers, but they keep both sides at the table, at least on technical issues. Behind the scenes, committees are working, negotiators are meeting, and a personal envoy has been reappointed. That kind of continuity, Stewart said, simply didn’t exist eight years ago.
But there’s a deeper problem that CBMs alone can’t fix: trust, or the lack of it.
Stewart was clear that Cypriots on the ground generally get along. "Millions cross the checkpoints each year and incidents are rare." But among political leaders and bureaucracies? “Immense distrust,” he said. This stems from what he called “narrow, self-serving” historical narratives that each side repeats endlessly, in classrooms, in the media, and in government statements. These echo chambers create an “us versus them” mindset that makes compromise feel impossible. “If you can’t acknowledge the suffering of the other side, how can you talk about the future?”
To address this, the UN has even gone as far as recommending that both sides revise school curricula, to teach a more balanced view of history, one that highlights the suffering on both sides and builds a shared sense of the past. But such ideas often hit a wall of political resistance.
That’s what makes recent tensions, like when the Republic of Cyprus rejected Turkish Cypriot offers to help during wildfires, so telling. Stewart chalked it up to mistrust, not malice. “Solidarity exists between ordinary people,” he said. But institutions still treat every interaction as a zero-sum game.
And yet, while the public might seem resigned to the current status quo, Stewart warns against complacency. “The status quo is not static,” he stressed. As the north becomes more economically and politically integrated with Turkey, the possibility of reunification drifts further out of reach. “If nothing changes,” he warned, “Greek Cypriots will end up with the one thing they fear most, a Turkish border running through the island.”
One area where that warning already feels tangible is Varosha. When asked about the fenced-off ghost town, Stewart said the structures being added there aren’t permanent. “There’s a reason for that,” he hinted, suggesting that even Turkey might be leaving the door open, perhaps not wanting to fully sabotage the chance of a future solution.
Despite all this, the political deadlock remains. The UN continues to push for a bizonal, bicommunal federation (BBF), which public polling shows still enjoys majority support on both sides. But with leaders refusing to budge from entrenched positions, even minor initiatives often get stuck in political limbo. “The Cyprus problem is solvable,” Stewart insisted. “But it’s hard for me to say whether it ever will be.”
Asked about last year’s humanitarian standoff over asylum seekers stuck in the buffer zone, Stewart didn’t hold back. He called the situation a serious difference of opinion between the UN and the Republic. International law requires countries to assess asylum claims before rejecting refugees, but instead, the Republic physically pushed people back into the buffer zone. For six months, the UN had to feed, shelter, and care for them with little help from the government. “It was about international obligations,” he said. “Not politics.”
In the same breath, Stewart addressed Greek Cypriot concerns over what they believe is an orchestrated effort by Turkey to send refugees south via the occupied north, a way, they argue, to change the island’s demographics. His response was careful but clear: “It has not been proven that Turkey is responsible.” He acknowledged that human trafficking networks operate in the region, but said allegations of a deliberate, state-run campaign haven’t been substantiated. Notably, he pointed out that Turkey actually reinstated strict transit visa requirements in August 2023 for African nationals traveling through Turkey to northern Cyprus, effectively ending the “OK to Board” loophole that had existed during the pandemic.
As for UNFICYP, the UN peacekeeping force, Stewart says it’s still doing vital work. There hasn’t been a military clash between the sides in 51 years, and that’s not an accident. Behind the scenes, UN personnel defuse dozens of incidents, small and large, that could quickly spiral out of control. “Things escalate very quickly here,” he noted. “One phone call from a leader and it becomes a crisis.”
The peacekeeping mission, he said, is like a pacemaker. “If your heart is beating well because of a pacemaker, you don’t just take it out.”
In the end, Stewart departs Cyprus with admiration for its people but frustration with its politics. “It’s not about who’s right and who’s wrong,” he said. “It’s about how we move forward.” The problem, as he sees it, is not a lack of solutions, it’s a lack of courage to make them happen.
