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Every Easter, Cyprus lights up with the glow of lambradjas, towering bonfires that have become a deeply rooted tradition for many communities. But what exactly are they today? A fun way for young people to bond and celebrate, or a risky ritual teetering on chaos? According to Kathimerini's Hector Georgiou, that debate is still burning, and once again, proposed laws to regulate the tradition have fizzled out without action.
Take a stroll through Nicosia’s neighborhoods in the run-up to Easter, and you’ll see the lambradja isn’t just a pile of wood waiting to be lit; it’s a well-oiled system, with its own unwritten rules, pecking order, and rituals.
Sociologist and academic Nikos Peristianis sees the lambradja not as an act of destruction, but as a reflection of deeper social undercurrents.
"We guard it with our lives"
Stefanos, now 23, has been helping organize his neighborhood's lambradja since he was 12. "It has its own moral code," he told Kathimerini. "We don’t steal wood from others." Still, the competition to build the biggest bonfire is intense. He recalls many nights spent camped out by the pile to guard against potential thieves. "You collect wood for days; you don’t want to see it disappear overnight."
Thanos, also 23 and based in another part of Nicosia, describes the adrenaline of the big night. "You feel proud when the flames go up, it’s something we’ve worked for," he says. Beyond the fire itself, he explains, the process becomes a way to form strong friendships and even gain a sense of independence.
But with every spring comes the same question: where are the police in all this? Thanos admits a police presence is necessary, things can escalate, especially with younger kids who might get carried away. Stefanos, on the other hand, says the authorities often fail to show up when it matters.
Law left in the ashes
Easter 2023 saw over 120 lambradja-related incidents that required intervention from the Fire Service, ranging from vandalism and arson to assaults on police officers. So it's no surprise the government tried once again to legislate the tradition.
Just a week before Easter, the Ministry of Justice reintroduced a bill that would place the responsibility for organizing lambradjas into the hands of local authorities or parish councils. It even proposed a fixed timeframe for the fires, from 11 p.m. on Holy Saturday to 1 a.m. on Easter Sunday. Preparations could only begin on Holy Wednesday and had to stop by Saturday afternoon.
But MPs failed to agree, and the Union of Local Authorities also raised concerns about timing and feasibility, so the proposal, once again, was shelved.
"Not barbarism, but something deeper"
Sociologist and academic Nikos Peristianis sees the lambradja not as an act of destruction, but as a reflection of deeper social undercurrents. "It’s not organized protest, but a form of conscious expression,” he told K. “It’s not logical, it comes from instinct, emotion, and a need to be seen.”
Peristianis argues that while some dismiss the tradition as pagan or outdated, it’s more a case of young people searching for identity in a world where they feel increasingly left out. "There’s insecurity about the future, and that builds emotional pressure. The lambradja becomes a release valve."
A real-life game of ‘cops and robbers’
He also points out how the involvement of police adds another layer to the whole affair. “It’s turned into a kind of live-action game,” he says. “The youth see themselves as outlaws or rebels, and if they manage to outwit the authorities, they feel empowered.”
Peristianis draws a parallel with football hooliganism, where some fans go to stadiums not for the sport, but for the rush of confrontation. The same energy plays out around the lambradjas.
He warns that if authorities try to crack down too hard, it might backfire. "If you tell them the fire has to go out by 1 a.m., you’ll likely see people showing up at exactly that time to challenge the rule. It becomes part of the game."
Where do we go from here?
The Parliament may have pressed pause on regulating lambradjas, for now, but the conversation around safety, tradition, and youth discontent is still smoldering. Peristianis suggests offering young people safer outlets, like sports or community competitions, to channel that energy in more positive directions.
Until then, the fires will keep burning, both in the streets and in the hearts of those who light them.
