By Thanasis Photiou
He is one of those political figures who simply do not fit into a neat, one-dimensional box. A strong personality open to two descriptions, as most strong personalities tend to be. His path feels less like a straight political career and more like a story that changes tone with each chapter and, more importantly, with each point of view.
On one hand, there is the uncompromising enemy of corruption: the man who exposed blockbuster scandals, who dared to take on powerful networks of every kind; the energetic and productive mayor who reshaped Paphos; and the local leader who proudly pointed out that voters increased their trust in him at every election.
I deeply believe that to live is to create and to leave something of value behind. -Phedon Phedonos
And on the other, there is the authoritarian figure who acts arbitrarily, often stubbornly and by force of will; the public official who frequently adopts harsh and confrontational rhetoric; and the populist who hurls heavy accusations without backing them up, a mudslinger who creates noise and impressions without naming names. An ego-driven man led by ambition, long accompanied by strange rumors and whispers.
And now, suddenly, a hard stop. A rupture. A moment heavy with questions, shadows, grave accusations, and political consequences.
Here’s a clearer, more polished rephrasing:
Yes, Phedon Phedonos fits that description. He is a figure whose actions invite dual interpretations, and now, he’s being scrutinized for the possibility that this duality may extend to a double-faced character as well.
From threats and public humiliation to vindication
In 2024, the municipal elections came just nine days before his birthday. And without question, even if it came a little early, there could have been no better gift than the 60.25% of the vote he received from the people of Paphos.
It was the peak of a steadily rising course that began in January 2015, when he first took the helm of the municipality following the resignation and conviction of then-mayor Savvas Vergas. Vergas had admitted to charges of bribery and money laundering related to the Paphos sewerage project.
At just 36, running on a platform of “cleansing” and fighting corruption, and having played a leading role in exposing the scandal, Phedonos became one of the youngest mayors in the city’s history. He won 49.08% in that first race. A year later, in the 2016 municipal elections, that figure rose to 55.66%. And on June 9, 2024, it climbed again, to 60.25%, the “best birthday gift” for June 18.
A major personal vindication, without doubt.
Especially given the path he himself described in interviews as anything but smooth. In a 2018 interview with Down Town magazine, he spoke candidly:
“Every time I make a complaint, two or three very difficult months follow for me personally and for my family. There is a war, in my family environment, my work environment, and personally. Especially in the early years, I lost friends. I lost people who were close to me for years. I lost them because my complaints affected their interests. There was a period, not now while being mayor, but earlier, when I was a municipal councilor, when I was completely alone. The mayor at the time was extremely popular, with strong ties to all parties and incredible access everywhere. I remember sitting at a café and people at nearby tables would get up and leave. So no one would see them with me. I’m talking about total isolation.”
That war, he said, did not end once he became mayor. On the contrary.
Again speaking to Down Town, he recalled:
“After my complaints about Turkish Cypriot properties, I was present when a building that was being used illegally was reclaimed. Half an hour later, my mother’s brother was fired from his job after ten years. And they didn’t even try to make it look coincidental. They told him outright: ‘You’re being fired because your nephew is after us and took the plot of land we were using.’ So yes, there is a cost. It causes problems for my family. The bomb placed in my mother’s car on Christmas Day caused enormous upheaval. We’re constantly under pressure. Relatives and friends call and tell me to stop, some out of genuine concern, others because they fear what I’m chasing might one day touch them. And then there were direct threats: ‘I’ll destroy you,’ ‘You’ll die.’ Even verbal attacks in public spaces. I’ve even been spat on in the street.”
“The meaning of life”
Phedonos quickly became a media fixture, a familiar face on TV screens, in magazines, and in headlines. Yet he consistently rejected the traditional rules of political “lifestyle” exposure.
When asked to pose with his family, he refused. “I’m not a star, I’m not a singer or a model,” he would say. “Why should I sit and pose with my wife and children?”
He spoke often about the toll his public life took on his family, but he did not put them on display. It took years before he posted photos of them on social media, and even then, only occasionally, usually on his birthday. His message was always the same: his priorities were two, his family and his city.
His most recent post came last year, on June 18, a year after his landslide victory:
“Today, as I turn 47, I feel even more strongly that the purpose of life is to build a family with values and to create work that benefits society. As Aristotle said, ‘The end is the work.’ I deeply believe that to live is to create and to leave something of value behind.”
Under other circumstances, that tender post, following a triumphant 60.25%, might have felt like the perfect curtain call. The culmination of a confrontational but effective journey, full of open fronts, enemies, doubts, and criticisms of authoritarian behavior, yet one that voters ultimately embraced as productive and beneficial.
But Phedonos only just turned 47. He will turn 50 in 2028. A presidential election year.
And what better challenge at that age?
He wasn’t the only one thinking it. In the second half of 2025, after the former auditor general entered the political arena, scenarios began circulating that cast Phedonos, with a similar style and popularity to Odysseas Michaelides, as the ideal counterweight. Those scenarios grew louder. And, notably, he had not been deemed unfit for office by a full bench of judges.
All of that changed 15 days ago. Before the avalanche.
A career on pause
Today, Phedonos is no longer at the center of the public stage as he once was. His suspension, imposed by law following the revival of serious allegations now under investigation, hit like a landslide on what had been a steadily rising trajectory.
Politically, this is not just a “difficult moment.” It is a crossroads.
For some, it opens the possibility that this is the end, not only of the ambitions that were being seriously discussed until recently, but of any future in public office. Regardless of the outcome. “The stain,” as they say.
For others, it is a test, one that will determine whether the narrative of “moral superiority” can withstand scrutiny when the spotlight turns inward. They believe that an acquittal, or a failure to substantiate the allegations, could bring him back stronger, more determined to slay the dragon.
The next chapter will be written by investigators, prosecutors, and the courts.
But politically, the cost of the interim is already visible, like a taxi meter running in a parked car: silence instead of the familiar torrent of words, absence instead of a commanding presence, suspension instead of attack, and doubt instead of certainty.
And all of it has a price.
The irony
For years, Phedonos built his political identity on clear lines: war on corruption, confrontation with “networks,” and zero tolerance for abuse of power. In Paphos and beyond, his footprint was undeniable. Projects, interventions, and momentum in a city many once considered stagnant.
To supporters, he was a reformer. To critics, authoritarian and abrasive.
Productive municipal work coexisted with a public discourse that left no room for half-tones. Fronts opened one after another. Some corruption cases ended in courtrooms and prison sentences. Others sparked fierce clashes with vested interests operating, as he claimed, in the shadows.
In that arena, he earned the reputation of the relentless crusader. A Robin Hood of justice.
Some called it courage. Others called it theatrics. Some saw boldness, others populism. The truth likely lies somewhere in between.
What is certain is that he did not resist the temptation, familiar in today’s social media culture, to open the windows and hurl accusations freely. That is how the label of “mudslinger” stuck.
Looking back, the warnings were there. In 2016, we wrote that while it is true few dare to speak out against corruption, there is a difference between serious politics and gossip. Between documented allegations and coffee-shop whispers elevated to public office.
In 2017, we warned again: speaking is not the same as saying whatever one wants. The line between seriousness and caricature is thin.
He accused two party leaders, one of bribery and the other of tax evasion, then urged them to confess on their own so they wouldn’t be “tainted.” None did. No evidence emerged. And no one else was tainted.
Ironically, it was the attorney general who, in 2017, shelved the case. The same attorney general who said, “We investigated the allegations, and they are not substantiated.”
The difference?
Back then, the allegations were against Phedonos himself. Allegations of assault against his wife. A case that resurfaced nine years later and opened Pandora’s box.
*Read the Greek version here.
