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Home , Alexandros Panagoulis, Alexandros Papagos, Alexandros Sakellariou, Aris Velouchiotis, Battle of Greece, Caserta Agreement

RENOUNCING THE RECENT PAST, ‘REVOLUTIONISING’ THE PRESENT AND ‘RESURRECTING’ THE DISTANT PAST: LEXICAL AND FIGURATIVE REPRESENTATIONS IN THE POLITICAL SPEECHES OF (1967-73)

By Emmanuela Mikedakis

PhD Dissertation University of New South Wales, Sydney, February, 2007.

Abstract

Abstract

This thesis examines the political speeches of the Greek Georgios Papadopoulos from the time his regime—the self-titled ‘Revolution of the 21st April’—usurped power in 1967 until he himself was ousted in . The thesis proposes that the underlying aim of all of Papadopoulos’s political speeches is the construction of a cyclical narrative of a past, present and future . According to his political speeches, this construct proposes a ‘dangerous’, ‘corrupt’ and ‘undemocratic’ recent past that necessitated his ‘Revolutionary’ present; a ‘revolutionary’ present that strives to create the preconditions for a ‘prosperous’ future Greece; and a future Greece that shall embody the ‘Helleno-Christian’ ideals of the distant past, and detach itself from the failings of the recent past. The premise on which the research is founded is that patterns in his political speeches can be quantitatively identified and that, from these patterns, a qualitative interpretation can be developed. Thus, quantitative data were collated concerning the frequency of key terms and concepts, both literal and figurative, in all of Papadopoulos’s political speeches and, then, cross-referenced with audience composition and date of delivery. These data were subsequently analysed holistically in the context of the political, social, economic and cultural aspects of Greece’s recent history. The thesis developed from the data is divided into three parts. The first part examines the history immediately before and during the 7-year . The second and third parts consider specific lexical terms and concepts and medical and biological analogies, respectively, in Papadopoulos’s political speeches. Some examples examined in the lexicon component are Revolution, distant past, , security. Some examples analysed in the medical and biological component are doctor, infection, cells and the plaster cast.

ii Emmanuela Mikedakis Abstract

Clear correlation can be discerned between certain lexical and figurative preferences and audience composition and/or time of delivery; however, while clear lexical and figurative transitions and shifts are noted over the 6-year period, his underlying cyclical narrative is consistently present.

iii Emmanuela Mikedakis Acknowledgements

Acknowledgements

I would like to acknowledge the School of Modern Language Studies and the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences, both at the University of New South Wales (UNSW), for the financial support provided to me throughout my candidature. It was largely due to their financial support that I was able to undertake a brief course of study of Classical Greek at the University of Sydney and, importantly, able to travel to Greece for six weeks of necessary research. In Greece, I remain grateful to the Lambrakis Journalistic Organisation; especially, Ms Marina Papakostidou and Mrs Theoni Zervou for their patience, perseverance and help in locating the final two years of Papadopoulos’s speeches in the newspapers of the time. Thank you to Mrs Moschona at the National Library of Greece for allowing me to photocopy some invaluable and rare articles. A particular thank you to all the staff at the Greek Parliament Library for their generosity, enthusiasm and help; especially, Ms Tasia Arakou who gave me much of her time and many of her lollies. Additionally, I acknowledge that the support and consistent encouragement I have received from those who are very dear to me have been fundamental to both the development and the completion of this thesis. I would like to especially recognise Margaret Crouch for our exhaustive discussions that illuminated the, at times, overwhelming minefield of methodology. Her suggestions of, clarity in and passion for method and methodology proved fundamental to my own. Finally, immeasurable thanks to my supervisors: to Dr. Eleni Amvrazi, whose unceasing perseverance saw me through to the end; and to Dr. Alfred Vincent, who showed me how to ‘engage’ in history. Their support, knowledge, patience, encouragement and generosity of time have all finally come to fruition.

iv Emmanuela Mikedakis Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Abstract ii Acknowledgements iv Table of Contents v List of Abbreviations vi A Note on Translation and Transliteration viii

Introduction 1

Part One – Historical Overview 1.1 World Two-1967 21 1.2 The Dictatorship (1967-1974) 53 1.3 A Brief Epilogue 102

Part Two – Lexicon 2.1 Defining the Leadership 104 2.2 Defining the Ethnocommunity 124 2.3.1 The ‘Negative’ Recent Past 149 2.3.2 The ‘Revolutionary’ Present 165 2.4 The ‘’ Future of a Distant Past 202

Part Three – Medical and Biological Analogies 3.1 The Doctor 243 3.2 The Patient 253 3.3 ‘Diagnosing’ the Illness 264 3.4 ‘Prescribing’ the Treatment 280

Conclusion 317

Bibliography 321

v Emmanuela Mikedakis List of Acronyms

List of Acronyms

AEM Anti-Dictatorship Workers’ Front Αντιδικτατορικό Εργατικό Μέτωπο AMAG American Mission for Aid to Greece ASPIDA Officers Save the Fatherland, Ideals, , Αξιωµατικοί Σώσατε Πατρίδα, Ιδανικά, ∆ηµοκρατία, Αξιοκρατία AVNOJ Anti- Council for the National Liberation of Antifašističko V(ij)eće Narodnog Oslobođenja Jugoslavije CIA Central Information Agency DA Democratic Defence ∆ηµοκρατική Άµυνα DET International Exhibition in ∆ιεθνής Έκθεσις Θεσσαλονίκης DSΕ Democratic Army of Greece ∆ηµοκρατικός Στρατός της Ελλάδας ΕΑ National Εθνική Αλληλεγγύη EAM National Liberation Front Εθνικό Απελευθερωτικό Μέτωπο EAS National Liberation Movement Εθνικός Απελευθερωτικός Σύνδεσµος EDA Ενιαία ∆ηµοκρατική Αριστερά EDES National Democratic Greek League Εθνικός ∆ηµοκρατικός Ελληνικός Σύνδεσµος EDKA Greek Democratic Movement of Resistance Ελληνική ∆ηµοκρατική Κίνησις Αντιστάσεως ΕΕΑΜ National Workers’ Liberation Front Εθνικό Εργατικό Απελευθερωτικό Μέτωπο EENA of Young Greek Officers Εθνική Ένωσις Νέων Αξιωµατικών EK Ένωσις Κέντρου EKKA National and Social Liberation Εθνική και Κοινωνική Απελευθέρωσις ELAS National People’s Liberation Army Εθνικός Λαϊκός Απελευθερωτικός Στρατός ENA Union of Young Greek Officers Ένωσις Νέων Αξιωµατικών EOKA National Organisation of Cypriot Fighters Εθνική Οργάνωσις Κυπρίων Αγωνιστών EOKA-B National Organisation of Cypriot Fighters – B Εθνική Οργάνωσις Κυπρίων Αγωνιστών – B'

vi Emmanuela Mikedakis List of Acronyms

EPEK National Progressive Union of the Centre Εθνική Προοδευτική Ένωσις Κέντρου EPON United Panhellenic Organisation of Youth Ενιαία Πανελλαδική Οργάνωση Νέων ERE Εθνική Ριζοσπαστική Ένωσις GDP Gross Domestic Product IDEA Sacred Bond of Greek Officers Ιερός ∆εσµός Ελλήνων Αξιωµατικών JUSMAPG Joint Military Advisory and Planning Group KKE Communist Party of Greece Κοµουνιστικό Κόµµα Ελλάδας KYP Central Service of Information Κεντρική Υπηρεσία Πληροφοριών MAP Military Assistance Program NATO Organisation PAM Patriotic Front Πατριωτικό Μέτωπο PEEA Political Committee for National Liberation Πολιτική Επιτροπή της Εθνικής Απελευθέρωσης SKE Socialist Greek Workers’ Party Σοσιαλιστικό Εργατικό Κόµµα Ελλάδος SNOF Slavo-Macedonian National Liberation Front Slovenomakedonski Narodno Osloboditelen Front UN US/USA United States of America USSR Union of Soviet Socialist Republics VESMA Royal of the Βασιλικός Ελληνικός Στρατός της Μέσης Ανατολής WW1 World War One WW2 World War Two X Chi X

vii Emmanuela Mikedakis A Note on Translation and Transliteration

A Note on Translation and Transliteration

All translations and transliterations are my own. The capitalisation of particular terms in my translations has been retained to parallel Papadopoulos’s presentation of it. In most instances—for example, in his presentation of the regime as a Revolution (Επανάστασις, Epanastasis)—it is as insightful as the use of particular term itself. Similarly, in my translations, I remained as faithful as I could to Papadopoulos’s syntax and expression. For the English reader, I concede that the translations may seem awkward at times; however, this is conscious on my part in order to better reflect Papadopoulos’s linguistic structure in addition to his lexical or figurative choices. Thus, if a particular expression or syntactical structure seems awkward in the English translation, rest assured that I am limiting myself to Papadopoulos’s rhetorical . In an effort to make the translations easier to comprehend, however, I have taken creative licence with some of the punctuation. The transliteration in the thesis is minimal and has been used in two instances as a pronunciation aid to the non-Greek speaker. The first instance of transliteration concerns specific terms that Papadopoulos uses, which, in turn, are analysed in the Lexicon and Analogy parts of this thesis. The second concerns references to the Greek publisher or publishing house in the Bibliography. The transliteration uses a simple Latin script and attempts to mimic the Greek pronunciation. Thus, the transliteration of the word δηµοκρατικός (democratic) is rendered dimokratikos. The double vowels οι, ει, αι, and ου in Greek have been kept in the transliteration. I found that this was instrumental to the Bibliography, where the transliteration of a word like εταιρεία (company) as etaireia, for example, while still retaining

viii Emmanueala Mikedakis A Note on Translation and Transliteration

the Greek pronunciation, would better serve the non-Greek-speaking researcher in locating the original.

ix Emmanueala Mikedakis Introduction

Introduction

This thesis argues that Georgios Papadopoulos’s political speeches from until November 1973 all aim at constructing the same historical narrative of a past, present and future Greece, and that this construct is cyclical. It argues that Papadopoulos proposes a ‘negative’ recent past that necessitated the ‘revolutionary’ present; a ‘revolutionary’ present that will create the preconditions for a prosperous future Greece; and a future Greece that embraces the attributes of a distant past—far removed from those of the recent past. Further to this, this thesis hypothesises that Papadopoulos’s historical construct can be shown through his lexical and analogical choices and that these choices vary in frequency according to audience composition, speech content and/or timeframe. The premise on which the research is founded assumes that patterns in his political speeches can be quantitatively identified and that from these, a qualitative interpretation can inductively develop. This interpretation supports a hypothesis that the identified patterns are purposefully and emotively based on historical, political, social and cultural milestones which, according to Papadopoulos, point to a shared ideal to be realised once again through ‘Revolution’—the name he gives to his regime. The prevalent methodology which recommends itself to this endeavour, therefore, is an interpretive one; the prevalent method, content analysis. This approach allows for quantitative data on specific literal and figurative representations in Papadopoulos’s political speeches to be collated and for these data to be analysed and conclusions to be drawn through their holistic contextualisation. The ensuing discussion of how each part of the thesis is divided provides the rationale for this methodology and a description of the method used, as a focused and

1 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

structured design, in order to obtain disciplined data for substantive contextual analysis and interpretation. The thesis is divided into three parts. Part One, Historical Overview, aims at contextualising Papadopoulos’s lexical and figurative choices by examining the economic, social and political environment within Greece from World War 2 (WW2) to and including the period of the dictatorship. Part Two, Lexicon, and Part Three, Medical and Biological Analogies, provide an analysis of how Papadopoulos’s lexical and figurative choices, respectively, underpin his cyclical narrative of past, present and future Greece. From the outset, it is important to define my terminology pertaining to his cyclical narrative. Firstly, the decision to define Papadopoulos’s political discourse as ‘narrative’ is best explained with a quotation from Edelman (1988: 105):

[Language] directly interprets developments by fitting them into a narrative account providing a meaning for the past, the present, and the future compatible with an audience’s ideology.

In discussing the similarities between the authors of historical texts and fiction texts, Lunden et al. (1985: 77) also emphasise a similar point:

Authors use language and narrative strategies to project worlds and to give significance to those worlds.

Thus, this thesis aims to illuminate how Papadopoulos narrates his ‘projected world’ of a ‘negative’ recent past, a ‘revolutionary’ present and a ‘glorious’ future of a distant past. Secondly, all the chronological terms I use adhere strictly to Papadopoulos’s representations of these periods. Admittedly, it is difficult to quantify some of these periods according to a specific time structure, as

2 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

his representation of each period varies. Nevertheless, the ‘negative’ recent past almost always represents the decade leading up to the regime’s seizing power. It is a period, which, as will be discussed in Chapter 1.1, saw a rapidly changing Greece whose liberalisation measures proved particularly alarming to various interest groups, and, importantly to this thesis, to the Armed Forces. Papadopoulos always presents this period with very loaded negative imagery. To avoid the use of any of the specific terms that he uses, and terms that will be analysed, I have chosen the adjective ‘negative’ to describe this period. The ‘revolutionary’ present corresponds to the period under his regime. According to his rhetoric, it is a period at the crossroads of this timeline between past and future; that is, he proposes that the Revolution was needed because of the ‘negative’ recent past, and it will provide the foundations for a prosperous future Greece. This future that Papadopoulos envisages is one that embraces and attributes from a distant past. This ‘distant past’ usually corresponds to the legacy of and/or Byzantium, but often it is invoked as a parallel to the ‘glories’ of past struggles in more modern times: The War of Independence (1821-8), The Albanian Campaign (1940-1) and the Civil War (1943-9)— always from the side fighting against the communists. As will become evident in my ensuing analysis, the ‘Helleno-Christian spirit’ is the underlying foundation that is sought in his representations of the distant past. A study of any discourse is futile unless it is contextualised. Lexical and figurative choices can only be understood when they are interpreted inside their social, economic, cultural, and/or political setting. This is important in the study of any political discourse, as these settings tend to be a primary motivation for a particular lexical and figurative choice.

3 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

Utterances are only meaningful if we consider their use in a specific situation, if we understand the underlying conventions and rules, if we recognize the embedding in a certain culture and ideology, and most importantly, if we know what the discourse relates to in the past (Chilton & Schäffner 1997: 276).

In developing his theory of Political Discourse Analysis, which will be discussed below, van Dijk (1997: 14-15) also elucidates that text and context mutually define each other. He emphasises the importance of studying political discourse by not only examining the structural properties of text and talk but, more significantly, observing how these discursive structures relate to the context. In interpreting the role of hermeneutics as a methodology, Lunden et al. (1985: 49) examine the ways the author enables and uses language through:

setting texts in the context of history and by showing their role as objects and instruments in a temporal process of interrelated actions.

This assertion is particularly important to this thesis as Papadopoulos’s lexical and figurative choices cannot be understood without contextualising them in the economic, social, and political environment which shaped them. Thus, the first part of this thesis, the Historical Overview, aims at providing just that. This part is organised into three chapters: Chapter 1.1 examines the decades that preceded the junta’s coming to power (WW2-1967); Chapter 1.2 examines the period of the dictatorship (1967-74); Chapter 1.3 provides a brief epilogue on the year that immediately followed the junta’s handing over of power. The literature examining these periods is plentiful. Overall, concise accounts of the economic, demographic, political and social from its inception as an independent state in 1828 until the

4 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

present were found in Clogg (1986, 1992), Woodhouse (1991) and Close (2002). Close’s account was especially useful in that it provided detailed statistics of the post-WW2 period and extensive references. Additionally, articles in The World Today covering this period provided some relevant analyses on situations in Greece and Greece’s relations with other nations as they unfolded. Articles from newspapers and magazines of the period, as well as recent anniversary-of-the-dictatorship issues, are also integrated into the thesis. It is important to add that the omission of certain parts of Greece’s modern history should be understood contextually; that is, in this historical overview, I have included an analysis of events that illuminate Papadopoulos’s motivations for particular representations in his political speeches. Thus, though the deportation of the Jews from Greece during WW2 is indeed an important part of Greece’s modern history, it is outside the scope of this research. Conversely, there is a more pronounced discussion of the composition of the Armed Forces and its changing ideology, training and political motivations. Such a discussion is directly relevant to the dictatorship coming to power and to Papadopoulos’s lexical and figurative choices thereafter. Of particular significance to my examination of history is the role of the military in contemporary Greek . Veremis’s (1997) authority on matters concerning the military is well established, and this particular work examining the military in Greek politics since the nation state was formed in 1828 was a useful beginning. Stavrou’s analysis (1976), however, was directly relevant to this thesis, as his insightful historical account of the military, the para-state, and their influential role in the political arena specifically concerns the period from WW2 to 1967. Importantly, he also examines the political ideology of the Armed Forces. While the bulk of my historical research concentrated on Greece from 1940-1975, I did, of course, consider the period of Metaxas; however, this

5 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

was motivated by a comparative more than a historic need. To this end, I found the collection of discussions in Higham and Veremis (1993) very beneficial. Similarly, Kofas’s (1983) study of the period, especially Chapter 2, which discussed Metaxas’s ‘Ideas’ and his regime’s structure, was particularly relevant to contextualising my research. Similarly, though Papacosma’s (1977) research concerns the 1909 coup, the parallels to Papadopoulos’s dictatorship are evident (in fact, he touches on some of these briefly in his epilogue). In specific chapters within this part, other literature becomes additionally important. Chapter 1.1, discussing the history of Greece from WW2 up to the dictatorship, is compartmentalised into three separate, yet not mutually exclusive components: the Occupation and the Civil War (1940-9); Right- wing dominance and foreign patronage (1950-60); and post-War military professionalism and the rise of Papandreou (1960-7). Literature regarding the Occupation and Civil War is exhaustive and thorough. Concerning the Occupation, Mazower’s (1993) research was instrumental to my understanding of this period. Of particular relevance to my comprehension of both the Occupation and ensuing Civil War was the collection of papers edited by Iatrides (1981), as well as the research provided by Woodhouse (1985) and Close (1993, 1995). Gerolymatos’s articles (1984, 1985) supplied some important statistics on the economic, ideological and social composition of the officer during the Occupation and Civil War, which, of course, had implications to the composition of the Armed Forces and Security Forces in the following decades. Literature examining the post-WW2 period in Greece is equally thorough. On the post-WW2 reconstruction in Greece, the collection of essays in Mazower (2000) was particularly noteworthy. Regarding the economy in post-WW2 Greece, Kofas (1990) was especially insightful on

6 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

the initial economic situation and foreign control of Greece. Georgiou’s (1988) economic analysis was also very informative, particularly in regard to transnational corporations. Mouzelis’s (1978) theoretical approach to the capitalist development (or under-development) of contemporary Greece provided an important background, especially as to the influence that particular interest groups, such as the Armed Forces, had on Greek politics. All electoral statistics for this period were taken from Vouli ton Ellinon (1977); however, Clogg (1987), Legg (1969) and Digaves (1986) all provide a comprehensive analysis of the elections following WW2, particularly the latter, who gives a concise and helpful overview of electoral results, political events and governmental ministers in cabinets from 1844 to 1986. McNeill’s (1978) research into migration in the and , its structure and its negative and positive effects and impacts on rural and urban Greece is especially noted. He provides some useful tables on the subject (pp. 255-7, tables A2-A4). On clientelism (mutual obligation) in Greek society and politics, see Legg (1997). Concerning the growth of ‘neo- ’ in Greece, Katris (1974) was interesting. On the formalistic aspects of Greece’s modern history, I found Mouzelis (1978: 134-48) to be helpful. Samatas’s (1986) article paralleling the post-war methods of repression of communists within both Greece and the USA is of particular interest and relevance. Similarly, I was able to draw some relevant parallels between Yannas’s (1994) article concerning discourse in post-WW2 Greece and my own analysis. My discussion of the 7-year dictatorship in Chapter 1.2 is presented in three distinct phases. The phases build on Arvanitopoulos’s (1991) schema of this period, which delineate the ‘reactive’ (21 April 1967-13 ), the ‘foundational’ (14 December 1967-25 November 1973) and ‘the demise’ (26 November 1973-24 ). In the context of

7 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

Papadopoulos’s political rhetoric, however, Arvanitopoulos’s timeframes were restrictive in that they did not reflect Papadopoulos’s lexical or figurative tendencies at particular times. Thus, I have amended his schema and present my own according to Papadopoulos’s changing need for legitimation during his rule. The first phase (21 April-28 ) is marked by Papadopoulos’s insistence that his Revolution prevented another civil war from being enacted and in so doing ‘saved’ the nation from ‘danger’. I have called this phase that of ‘The National Salvation’. This phase covers the period from the coup’s inception to the eve of the Referendum on the new Constitution in 1968. The second phase (29 September 1968-21 ) is defined by Papadopoulos’s insistence on the constitutional and democratic underpinnings of his regime. I have named this phase ‘The Constitutional and Democratic Foundation’. It covers a lengthy period from the day after the 1968 Referendum on the new Constitution until Papadopoulos added the Regency to his portfolio in 1972. I have named the third phase (22 March 1972-25 November 1973) ‘A Presidential Parliamentary ’. It covers Papadopoulos’s final years as dictator where his purpose was to justify his retaining power, culminating in his self-appointed Presidency under a revised Constitution in July 1973. A few months later, following the events at the Polytechnic in , he was ousted by hardliners from within his regime. A fourth phase (26 November 1973-24 July 1974) has been included in the historical overview chapter – that of ‘The Reversion to 21st April Ideals’. This phase considers the last 1.5 years of the dictatorship, from the time Papadopoulos was ousted until the junta’s eventual demise. Though the fourth phase is outside the scope of this research, it should be noted that there is a consistency in the nationalistic rhetoric of the regime;

8 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

in fact, in some ways, Papadopoulos’s constructs became more pronounced in the rhetoric of others. There were various compiled works which provided me with well- researched discussions illuminating the period of dictatorship: Clogg & Yannopoulos (1972), Sarafis & Eve (1990a, 1990b) and Elliniki Etaireia Politikis Epistimis (1999). Other literature of note includes Grigoriadis’s (1975, vols.1 & 2) exhaustive study of the dictatorship, and one from which many researchers have since drawn; ‘Athenian’ (1972), whose account of the initial years of the dictatorship is both personal and academic; and Woodhouse (1985a), who provides a thorough examination of the British and American role in Greece’s internal politics. Though Woodhouse’s research is primarily based on Grigoriadis (op. cit.) and the trials of the junta following the restoration of democracy, it is a most useful amalgamation of two very important sources. A concise and well-presented account of the 7-year dictatorship, including a brief postscript, can be found in Xydis (1974). Of particular interest is the link he draws between the demography of Greece during the dictatorship and its longevity (pp. 527-8). Danopoulos’s (1982, 1988, 1992a, 1992b) various papers have provided an insight into the junta’s relationship with various other parties, both within Greece and internationally. Of particular interest were his examination of Greek-Cypriot-US relations and policy during the dictatorship (1982) and the regime’s relationship with the public sector (1988). Similarly, Bermeo’s (1995) analysis of the 7-year military rule as a bureaucratic-authoritarian regime is significant, as was Danopoulos & Patel’s (1980) discussion of the failure of the military regime to legitimate itself through social change. The most thorough examination of the press under the dictatorship belongs to McDonald (1983). Daraki-Mallet (1976) provides an in-depth and truly fascinating examination of ESA/EAT

9 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

training, practices and officer composition. Her chapter on their education and (Ch. 7) was especially interesting. Amnesty’s (1977) report on the first ESA trial in Greece through victim and torturer testimonials and the revelations of therein is most relevant. Albeit brief, the appendices providing an overview of the sentences passed at the first ESA trial (as well as from selected subsequent trials) are informative. The questions which are posed regarding the processes that the post-junta government took (or, in this case, did not take) to bring the junta to trial en masse are also relevant (see especially Appendices B and E). Indeed, the final component of my historical overview, Chapter 1.3, the Epilogue, arises from the questions posed in Amnesty’s (1977) report. The Epilogue briefly outlines the process of ‘dejuntafication’ that followed once the regime handed over power. It also considers the legal action taken against the regime and its supporters. Though there is much research discussing the period of the dictatorship, little is dedicated specifically to the political language of Papadopoulos. Excerpts from his speeches are introduced in texts which consider the overall ideology of the regime or right-wing politics in post- WW2 Greece. Of these, the reader may find the following of introductory interest: ‘Athenian’ (1972, pp. 113-123) touches upon the regime’s ‘style’ and ideology in his overall analysis of the first few years of the dictatorship. Clogg (1972) also provides a very good account of the regime’s ideology, or more appropriately, what he, in my opinion, mislabels its ‘pseudo-ideologies’ (p. 36). Similarly, in Papadimitriou’s article (1999), any discussion of Papadopoulos’s political rhetoric is used to substantiate the premise of an overall ideology of the Right in Greek politics in the post- WW2 period. While Meletopoulos (1996: 160-83) devotes more pages to the political speeches of Papadopoulos, his account lacks academic depth or epistemological substance. Any analysis in his work is elementary at best.

10 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

Various quotations of Papadopoulos’s infamous medical and biological metaphors are included in many texts concerning Modern Greek history. Among them, Woodhouse (1985a: 33), Vournas (1997: 75), Grigoriadis (1975: 108), and Wheeler (1967: 231). There is also a brief discussion of Papadopoulos’s metaphor of the plaster cast in van Dyck (1998: 16-21); however, her analysis is in the context of the exploration of literature and other media during the years of dictatorship. Thus, there is a clear gap that this thesis, as original research, is attempting, in part, to address. In this endeavour, the entire corpus of Papadopoulos’s political speeches is examined. His speeches have been published in eight volumes entitled Το Πιστεύω Μας (Our Creed, To Pistevo Mas). The first seven of these volumes were published during the dictatorship. The last volume was published in 2004 by one of Papadopoulos’s long-time admirers and supporters, the editor-in-chief of the now out-of-print newspaper Ελεύθερος Κόσµος (Eleftheros Kosmos), Grigoris Michalopoulos. In the interests of brevity, any citations in the thesis that appear without the author’s name refer to one of these volumes; however, any additional speeches cited are sourced from the Greek newspaper .

A Note on Methodology: Although an interpretive methodology underpins the analytical components of this thesis, Parts 2 and 3, the collection of quantitative data is its essential basis. These data concerned the comparative frequency of a particular word, term or concept among speeches. For example, the number of times democracy (δηµοκρατία, dimokratia) or cells (κύτταρα, kyttara) is repeated across the different phases of the dictatorship to different audiences. Individual terms were first identified according to general classifications; in this case, those of Lexicon (under which the term

11 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

democracy would be placed) and Analogy (under which the term cells would be placed). These terms were then tentatively grouped according to more specific themes, such as those of ‘leadership’ or ‘ethnocommunity’. As the data collection continued, each term’s interaction and interdependency with these themes was inductively revealed. Thus, there was preparedness on my part to explore a tentative direction further, necessitating, in many instances, additional readings and theoretical contextualisations. For example, in my quantitative data collection concerning the words nation and national, the theme of ‘ethnocommunity’ emerged, necessitating the collection of quantitative data for other terms such as people, state, Greece and country for a comparative analysis. Similarly, in conceptualising Papadopoulos’s notion of the distant past or descendants, the repetition of many other different terms came to be considered, such as ancestors, history, legacy, and others. As an overview in relation to the quantitative collection of data, Excel spreadsheets were used to collate the number of times per page all terms occurred over all speeches. The date of each speech and its audience were noted, allowing for immediate cross-referencing of established patterns in discourse. Each individual speech was also subdivided into three columns, allowing for a more precise rendering of Papadopoulos’s motivations to repeat particular terms in either the opening, middle or closing paragraphs of individual speeches. A fourth column was added if the speech was followed with questions from the press. Individual statistics concerning the repetition of each term within each phase were established. The term democracy, for example, appears a total of 151 times during the first phase, while the term Greece appears a comparatively greater number of times during the same period, with a total of 823. Subsequently, these totals are divided by the number of pages Papadopoulos dedicates to each phase. In the first phase, for example,

12 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

Papadopoulos’s political speeches total 267.54 pages. Thus, the mean repetition of the term democracy during the first phase is established at 0.6; of Greece, at 3.1. Once the average repetition of a term over a particular phase is established, above-average instances within individual speeches are then easily identifiable. Consequently, distinct patterns according to audience composition and timeframe are discerned. A number of specific terms are considered in the examination of certain themes, such as those of the distant past or descendants. These are listed immediately after the introduction of each concept in their respective chapters. Any possible ambiguity as to the inclusion of a particular term is also discussed here. It should be noted that each noun’s adjectival counterpart is included with the noun itself in the quantitative data collection. For example, instances of democratic (δηµοκρατικός) are considered alongside democracy (δηµοκρατία). For this reason, the word ‘term’ has been used to describe these lexical representations, rather than the word ‘word’. Two additional factors should be noted: all quantitative data are presented in digit rather than written form; and, unless a pattern of repetition is noted consistently in short addresses to a particular audience, speeches shorter than one page are not considered in the analysis. Once specific terms, concepts and emerging themes are delineated, testable hypotheses are posed. Some examples of those used are: • Papadopoulos’s representations of a ‘glorious’ distant history become more frequent when he addresses the Armed Forces, the Security Forces and of war; • Papadopoulos’s repetition of democracy increases in addresses to the press; • Papadopoulos’s presentation of his regime as a Revolution is favoured across all phases of the dictatorship;

13 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

• And Papadopoulos’s references to dominate during the first phase of the dictatorship, but later are largely replaced by the notion of rebirth and that of an overall healing. Thus, while the data collected did support these hypotheses, their main purpose was not to examine them as abstract numbers; rather, it was to inductively examine and interpret their significance. The research, therefore, applies an interpretive qualitative approach on a quantitative foundation. Meaning-making, it suggests, is only understood as an outcome of its contextualisation. The reading of the holistic text relies on cultural, social and political understandings inherent in the nature of storytelling. Interpretive qualitative research acknowledges the generally accepted notion that multiple realities or interpretations from data may be possible. Thus, while the quantitative data gathered may be replicated by another researcher, the interpretation can be quite different. The notion of multiplicity of interpretations or realities is now widely acknowledged as a characteristic of interpretive qualitative research (Cohen, Manion & Morrison 2000; Merriam & Associates 2002; Potter 1996); as is the multiplicity of approaches (Potter 1996).1 Here, content analysis becomes the most appropriate method of data collection, as it allows for both the quantitative assimilation of data and their contextual interpretation. Lasswell’s (1965) content analysis approach to political semantics is still widely regarded as pioneering work in this area. He defines semantics in political discourse analysis as the study of key terms, slogans and

1 An extracted selection of these approaches are: reception studies, which focus on how readers of texts construct meaning and how the text is, in turn, brought to life and interpreted by the reader; ecological , which focuses on culturally patterned behaviours and how environment influences cultural behaviours; symbolic interactionism, which suggests that meaning in social settings is understood by individuals as a complex confluence of their own and the other’s behaviour and perspective and in this way are both influenced by and influential in social structure; and , which specifically examines how people interpret their culture and how they interact with it through the creation and use of symbols, and its importance as a primary influence in their lives.

14 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

doctrines, and concentrates on how these are understood holistically. His approach of classifying these signs according to their meaning and, then, quantifying their repetition, is reflected in my own research. Various other researchers who have more recently developed the content analytical approach with regard to the language of politics have been instrumental to this thesis. Of these, van Dijk (1985, 1997a, 1997b, 1998), Fairclough (1989, 2000), Chilton (1985, 1985a, 1997 (co-authored with Schäffner), and 2004), and Edelman (1967, 1971, 1988) have been most influential. Van Dijk’s analysis is governed by three principles that support this thesis’s argument. Firstly, that human discourse is governed by rules. Secondly, that this discourse is produced by speakers in an economic, political, social, cultural reality that shapes it. Thirdly, that discourse ultimately conveys information about the speaker’s world. In short, language has a social and ideological dimension to it and is a form of social action and interaction; political discourse, as van Dijk so appropriately defines it, is simply ‘a discursive way of “doing politics” ’ (1997a: 39). Building on these principles, Fairclough (1989, revised 2001) presents three stages to discourse analytic theory. Firstly, ‘description’: the identification of the formal properties of the text. Secondly, ‘interpretation’: the analysis of the relationship between text and social interaction. Finally, ‘explanation’: the analysis of the relationship between interaction and social context. These stages of discourse analytic theory formulate his Critical Language Study, which:

analyses social interactions in a way which focuses upon their linguistic elements, and which sets out to show up their generally hidden determinants in the system of social relationships, as well as hidden effects they may have upon that system (ibid., p. 5).

15 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

Fairclough emphasises that language is a social practice, which is not only a process of society, but conditioned by it; therefore, in analysing discourse as social practice, you are analysing the relationship between text, context and interaction (ibid., pp. 22-6). In his analysis of an extract from the transcript of an interview with the then prime minister of Britain, Margaret (ibid., pp. 172-96), he develops his Critical Language Study through the posing and answering of a series of questions. For example, he discusses the relational values between the speaker and through an examination of Mrs Thatcher’s inclusive use of the pronoun ‘we’ to ‘assimilate the leader to “the people” ’ (ibid., p. 179, fn. 1). Additionally, he examines the relational meaning of ‘obligation’ through the prominence of modal auxiliaries like ‘have to’ and ‘should’. In his later work (2000), he examines the political discourse of the British Prime Minister . Here, his analysis of the concepts reinforcing the ‘rebirth’ of a ‘new’ Labour Party is particularly relevant. Of additional importance to my analytical approach to this thesis is Chilton’s examination of political discourse (1985, 1985a, 1997 (co- authored with Schäffner), and 2004). His recent work (2004) discusses the practicalities involved in the analysis of various political texts (interviews, parliamentary addresses, press addresses). His dissection of ’s ‘Rivers of Blood’ speech in Chapter 7 focuses on specific terms and representations used in legitimation, such as the use of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’, or ‘national danger’. Such terms enforce a notion that the speaker, i.e., the politician, is ‘epistemically’ and/or ‘deontically’ superior in their knowledge and understanding of the ‘reality’ around them; that is, they are more rational and objective and/or morally sound, respectively, in their interpretation of the world. Similarly, his analysis of the then president of the United States, ’s speech concerning America’s imminent

16 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

military action in Kosovo is also relevant to this thesis. Here (Chapter 8), he identifies specific lexical and figurative representations used to ‘locate’ current events into, what he terms, a ‘historical time-narrative’. The ensuing analysis of similar representations within this thesis will illuminate all such constructs in Papadopoulos’s discourse. Finally, the work of Edelman (1967, 1971, 1988) has been instrumental to the underlying method used in this thesis. Edelman examines referential symbols in political discourse, noting that they too need to be contextualised according to a social, political and cultural history. This ‘sign structure’, he explains, implicitly expresses the ideology of a given community (1967: 126). Symbols used in political language, he continues, depend on the coexistence of the shared social, historical and cultural heritage of both the people who use them and the people who receive them (1967: 114). Additionally, he adds, once a symbol is understood as having this shared history, it ceases to be descriptive or ‘referential’ and becomes ‘evocative’, suggesting a political ‘reality’ (ibid., p. 125). This notion of emotive and evocative symbols in political text underpins the inductive analysis of Papadopoulos’s speeches and illuminates his cyclical narrative of past, present and future Greece. This is particularly relevant when we note that these symbols also appeal to the emotions of pride (honour) and anxiety (fear); to the recalling of past glories or defeats and to the focus on promises of future greatness (ibid., p. 6). In his later research (1988), Edelman elaborates on the ’s motivation to use evocative symbols as an aid to legitimation:

The uses of all such terms in specific situations are strategies, deliberate or unrecognized, for strengthening or undermining support for specific courses of action and for particular ideologies (ibid., p. 11).

17 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

In fact, he is quite clear as to the role of political language in this process:

Most political language […] has a great deal to do with the legitimation of regimes and the acquiescence of people in actions they had no part in initiating (ibid., p. 106).

This view was also developed by Elder & Cobb (1983: 27), who suggest that such symbols are not only crucial to the political process or the processes of legitimation, but that continued legitimation is enforced through their consistent and repeated use (ibid., p. 119)—a fact that will become evident in Papadopoulos’s use of symbols in an attempt to legitimate particular policies ( of the Press and the Arts, the Referendum for the new Constitution, the holding of political prisoners) and more generally, his usurping of democratic government.

The use of the aforementioned methodological framework will become evident in my approach to the remaining two parts of this thesis: Part Two, Lexicon, and Part Three, Medical and Biological Analogies. Thus, as was previously established, while the Historical Overview (Part One) facilitates the social, political, cultural and economic context guiding Papadopoulos’s political rhetoric, the final two parts of the thesis are dedicated to analysing his political speeches. Part Two, Lexicon, considers how Papadopoulos’s lexical tendencies reflect his cyclical narrative of a past, present and future Greece. Part Three, Medical and Biological Analogies, considers how Papadopoulos’s figurative tendencies, as they reflect medical and biological representations, support his cyclical narrative of a past, present and future Greece. Each of these parts is subdivided according to strict criteria. The subdivisions of each part mimic the other. For example, the first chapter of

18 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

both the Lexicon and the Analogy parts establishes Papadopoulos’s representations of the ‘leadership’; that is, of himself and his regime. Chapter 2.1 does this through an examination of specific terms like Revolution and democracy; Chapter 3.1 does this through an examination of specific medical analogies such as doctor and surgeon. Similarly, the second chapter of each part examines Papadopoulos’s lexical and figurative representations of the ‘ethnocommunity’; that is, the Greek people as a collective, pan-global group with a shared history, culture and religion. Accordingly, Chapter 2.2 considers the repetition of literal terms such as Greece and state, while Chapter 3.2 considers the presentation of figurative images, such as the body, skeleton or cells. The aim of the remaining chapters of each part is most appropriately illustrated by the following quotation:

The potency of political language does not stem from its descriptions of a ‘real’ world but rather from its reconstructions of the past and its evocation of unobservables in the present and of potentialities in the future (Edelman 1988: 108).

Thus, these chapters examine how, through specific terms and concepts, both literal and figurative, Papadopoulos attempts to conceptualise a ‘negative’ recent past, a ‘revolutionary’ present and an ‘ideal’ future of the distant past. Chapters 2.3 and 3.3 analyse Papadopoulos’s lexical and figurative representations, respectively, of the ‘negative’ recent past and the ‘revolutionary’ present. Chapter 2.3 examines terms such as communism and security. Chapter 3.3 examines Papadopoulos’s proposed ‘diagnoses’ of the illness – for example, cancer and ‘sick’ and ‘healthy’ cells. Chapters 2.4 and 3.4 analyse Papadopoulos’s lexical and figurative representations, respectively, of the ‘glorious’ future of a distant past. Chapter 2.4 examines terms such as morality and sacrifice, and concepts

19 Emmanuela Mikedakis Introduction

such as those of the distant past and descendants. Chapter 3.4 examines Papadopoulos’s various proposed treatments – for example, surgery, the plaster cast and ultimately, the rebirth of the human organism. Finally, it should be noted that Papadopoulos’s political speeches contain a plethora of diverse figurative and lexical representations. Under the category of analogy, some examples would be those of ‘war and battle’, where he uses terms such as the enemy camp, the military commander and the soldiers in the military column; those of ‘motion’, presenting the ship of Greece in stormy with the new crew; and those of ‘nature’ – the tree of Greece being watered by the sweat of heroes gone, and bearing new fruit. Some examples that could be examined under the category of lexicon would be the prefix ανα- (re-, ana-), and how his use of it illuminates his insistence on the ‘reorganisation’, ‘regeneration’, ‘rebuilding’, ‘re-embracing of past ideals’ of Greece. Another example would be his representation of the terms spirit (πνεύµα, pnevma) and soul (ψυχή, psychi). Thus, while I do acknowledge that there are further representations and constructs available for future research, they are beyond the scope of this thesis. The purpose of the thesis is to elucidate Papadopoulos’s cyclical narrative of a ‘negative’ recent past that necessitated a ‘revolutionary’ present; and a ‘revolutionary’ present that will provide a ‘glorious’ future of a distant past. The lexical and figurative phenomena analysed here are sufficient, I believe, to establish this.

20 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

Part One: Historical Overview Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

A nation’s history, therefore, must be understood as the confluence of continuous and cumulative processes whereby what took place in the past sets the stage for the present and determines the outlook for the future (Iatrides 1981: xiii).

On the morning of 21 April 1967, a small group of predominantly middle- ranking army officers drove their into the centre of Athens and claimed control. They remained in power until their illegal involvement in in July 1974 finally forced them to step aside. The initial justification for their extreme military action in Greece was the prevention of ‘the and the civil brawl ready to break out, which would lead to bloodshed and social and national catastrophe’.1 This justification had, as its foundation, the preceding three decades of political, social and economic events in Greece. In order to understand the junta’s subsequent legitimation of itself, it becomes necessary to examine these decades and consider the values and aspirations of significant political, international and para-state bodies of the time.

1 This quote from Konstantinos Kollias’s inaugural speech as Prime Minister on 21 April 1967 was reprinted in To Vima 23 Apr. 1967, p. 1. All subsequent references to this speech are taken from this source.

21 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

The Occupation and the Civil War (1940-9)

[The] Occupation would magnify existing social and economic strains and bring to the surface popular demands for a fundamental reshaping of Greece’s political system (Mazower 1993: 14).

When World War Two (WW2) broke out in September 1939, Greece, under the leadership of the dictator , remained neutral. Whilst undeniably through his intimate relationship with King George II, Metaxas was eager not to provoke Hitler or jeopardise Greece’s strong trade ties with ; therefore, he rejected the British offer to land allied forces.2 Greece’s initial neutrality was challenged in the following year (1940) once ’s entry on the Axis side was made official. In a series of Italian provocations, a growing Italian presence on the Greek- Albanian border, and an ultimatum from Mussolini to surrender or be seized, Greece entered WW2 at the end of .3 Metaxas, having realised the inevitability of war, had begun to improve existing public works and strengthen the Armed Forces a few years prior—an armed forces that had already dramatically increased in size following World War One (WW1) and the Balkan (Mouzelis 1986: 60). This increased training and armament, as well as a substantially improved infrastructure, proved invaluable to the Greek side. Within days, the Italian forces on the Greek-Albanian border were overcome and, remarkably, forced to retreat some 60 kilometres into Albanian territory.4

2 By 1938, Greece was exporting 40% of its biggest agricultural product, tobacco, to Germany (Clogg 1986: 135). 3 Metaxas’s response to this ultimatum is still celebrated as a national holiday in Greece on 28 October every year. It is known as the day that Metaxas said ‘No’ (Όχι) to Mussolini. 4 This achievement symbolised not just the successful victory over enemy forces—quite an achievement considering there were only 16 Greek Battalions against 27 Italian ones (Svoronos 1976: 138)—nor simply the fighting for freedoms, which, under Metaxas’s totalitarian regime, the country had not enjoyed in five years. It significantly reignited the irredentist claim to Northern , the southern part of , which has a long

22 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

The harsh winter resulted in a deadlock of both sides and following Metaxas’s death in , his successor, Alexandros Koryzis, a politically inexperienced banker, accepted the British offer to land Commonwealth forces. The combined Greek/British efforts, however, were mis-coordinated (Woodhouse 1991: 239-40) and Hitler, anxious to secure the Balkan front prior to invading the , entered Greece through Yugoslavia in April. By the beginning of June, Greece was occupied under a joint German, Italian and Bulgarian alliance, with Germany’s occupied areas including all key positions: Athens, most of , a substantial part of Greek directly south of Yugoslavia (including Thessaloniki) and the Greek-Turkish border in . After Germany’s invasion of Greece, King George II, along with the remaining part of Metaxas’s civilian government and army, fled and established a government-in-exile, which finally settled in in March 1943. An occupational government, headed initially by General Tsolakoglou, was immediately established within Greece. Its role was to work with the occupational forces in overseeing the immediate internal and in identifying, detaining and executing any potential subversives—a job that was made decidedly easier with the ‘Maniadakis’ files, so called after the Deputy Minister for Public Order under Metaxas’s regime. In 1936, clandestine communist and left-wing activity began to be infiltrated successfully by police and documented in personal files; a practice that was extended by subsequent governments to persecute individuals who did not share or adhere to government policy and could, therefore, be considered noncompliant.5 history dating back to 1878. A concise post-WW2 account of ’s history and foreign claims to this southern part of Albania is given by C.H.G. (1946) [sic]. 5 Significantly, it was not until a temporary coalition government came to power in 1989 that these police security files were destroyed. Symbolically, this date was the 40th anniversary of the final battle of the at Grammos in 1949. Samatas (1986: 50-2) gives an overview of the history of fakeloma (literally, ‘filing’), estimating that

23 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

The occupying forces were uncompromising in their systematic requisitioning of goods and resources from the country. This fact, coupled with the British naval blockade on wheat shipments into Greece (which amounted to 45% of the country’s wheat) and the initial difficulty the Red Cross faced in supplying the masses, lead to the consequent starvation of the population—the winter of 1941-2 proving the worst.6 In the following year, hyperinflation began to reach unimaginable highs, further amplifying the already endemic hoarding and black marketeering. The occupational government’s insistence on courage and unity fell on deaf public ears. The power vacuum that appeared and festered during Metaxas’s regime was now fuelled by an occupational environment of total devastation.7 This deep discontent found its voice early on in single acts of defiance; however, by the end of the first year of occupation, one group emerged as the prominent leader of resistance in the nation: the National Liberation Front (EAM, Εθνικό Απελευθερωτικό Μέτωπο). EAM was formed out of the existing Communist Party of Greece (KKE, Κοµουνιστικό Κόµµα Ελλάδας), the Socialist Party, and the ‘Union of People’s Democracy’ (Svoronos 1976: 138). Though its origin was communist and its policies

by 1984 the number of individual police files had reached over 41.2 million (ibid., p. 53, tab. 1). 6 Mazower (1993) gives an in-depth and thoroughly researched account of the social and economic devastation during the Occupation. Taking both food scarcity and the stunted population growth into account, he notes that the Red Cross estimated that Greece was 300,000 people short of the normal population growth by the beginning of the (ibid., p. 41). 7 One also has to consider just how cumulative this power vacuum was. Prior to Metaxas taking power in August, the 1936 elections had returned the result of a near-equal split between republican (i.e., those who supported Venizelos’s more liberal political dogma) and royalist supporters. The Communists, with almost 6% of the popular vote and 15 parliamentary seats, held the balance. Once Metaxas took power, the Communist Party of Greece (KKE) was banned and any left-wing activity was closely monitored and punished. Unless otherwise stated, all electoral statistics are taken from Vouli ton Ellinon (1977).

24 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

were dictated by the KKE, which was under Soviet counsel, its composition during the Occupation was largely non-communist.8 From its inception, EAM managed to organise a political and military clandestine network that was both efficient and highly systematised. Chief among them: its labour organisation, the National Workers’ Liberation Front (EEAM), which from March 1942 organised mass urban working class strikes that were particularly effective; its welfare organisation, National Solidarity (EA), which organised relief for victims of the Albanian campaign and of the famine in Athens; its youth organisation, the United Panhellenic Organisation of Youth (EPON); and, importantly, its military arm, the National People’s Liberation Army (ELAS, Εθνικός Λαϊκός Απελευθερωτικός Στρατός). By the end of the war, its combined membership was estimated at between 500,000 and 2 million, both men and women (Clogg 1986: 150; Hondros 1981: 41). EAM’s military arm, ELAS (whose acronym when said phonetically is identical to the Greek word for ‘Greece’), begun guerrilla operations in February 1942 and, among the resistance forces in Europe, it was second only to the in numbers (Grambas 1990: 182). Shortly after its commencement, it boasted over 60,000 fighters, most of whom were village youths between the ages of 15 and 25 (Mazower 1993: 305; McNeill 1978: 66-9). After the Italians surrendered in September 1943, ELAS guerrilla forces grew, along with the people’s support of them, to an estimated 200,000 (Hondros 1981: 42). A second resistance group, the National Democratic Greek League (EDES, Εθνικός ∆ηµοκρατικός Ελληνικός Σύνδεσµος), was founded in February 1942 and based in a small north-west region of Greece. It was composed mostly of Venizelist Republicans and, at its peak, was 14,000

8 It is, however, interesting to note that between March 1942 and September 1944 the KKE’s underground membership grew by almost 130% (Grambas 1990: 193).

25 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

strong. Though initially republican in ideology, EDES was quickly fostered by the British as an ally.9 At first, all resistance groups combined their forces with the British to hinder German operations significantly.10 This initial unity did not last and political differences became obvious in August 1943 when the representatives of the various resistance groups met with the British- backed government-in-exile to discuss the probable post-war political situation within the country. Negotiations abruptly came to a halt because of two main EAM demands: firstly, that the King would agree not to return to Greece unless the people voted for this in a plebiscite; and secondly, that the delegates in the post-war government would reflect the political beliefs represented in Greece’s current climate. EAM’s adamantine position on these issues and its growing support—factors that were now of greater concern to the British than overcoming the Nazi occupiers—were not conducive to pro- royal British interests in post-war Greece. Thus, the growing British support and armament of EDES became more apparent. This, however, was of little consequence to an expanding ELAS who appropriated the Italians’ arms supply after the latter’s surrender in September 1943. With the surrender of the Italian forces, the Germans became more vehement about tightening their hold on the nation. Reprisal killings (50 hostages per every German soldier killed), random shootings and the

9 There were also extreme Right splinter groups that formed during this time; notably, ‘X’ (Chi). Forming in 1941/42 from officers who were fiercely loyal to King George and Metaxas (Papageorgiou 2004: 34-43), ‘X’ acquired arms from German sources (Anghelatos 1962: 107) and became most active in Athens and southern Greece, where it clashed repeatedly with ELAS forces. (In fact, in the 1946 elections, it formed itself into a political party, though it only polled a small number of votes.) One of the group’s most known members was Grivas (nee Dighenis) who would become notorious in the following decades as the leader of both the National Organisation of Cypriot Fighters (EOKA, Εθνική Οργάνωσις Κυπρίων Αγωνιστών) and the EOKA-B-led movements in Cyprus. 10 The successful destruction of the railway line (running from Athens to Thessaloniki) in November 1942 was one example of the combined efforts of the resistance groups and British forces. Codenamed ‘Operation Harling’, it significantly hindered a main German supply route for several months.

26 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

destruction of many villages escalated. The amassing of hostages became a job for the newly formed under the leadership of the now head of the government, . The Security Battalions were organised units of mostly royalist officers, 18,000 strong (Gallant 2001: 169-70). These units were intensely anti-left and would remain a prominent force in the persecution of dissidents well into the following decade (Stavrou 1976: 40-1).11 In an environment of growing ideological difference and polarisation of Left and Right, what followed in October 1943 between the various resistance groups (chiefly, between EAM/ELAS and EDES) is often referred to as the ‘First Round’ of the Civil War. The fighting continued throughout winter, both sides eager to remain the only viable post-war power. Following a tentative armistice between resistance groups and the British, EAM/ELAS announced, in March 1944, the formation of a new system of local and national administration: the Political Committee of National Liberation (PEEA, Πολιτική Επιτροπή της Εθνικής Απελευθέρωσης). This announcement was complemented with a among republican officers in the Middle Eastern army. The mutiny, which had initially begun in opposition to royalist elements in both the government and the army, now took up PEEA’s cause (Veremis 1987: 215).12

11 Gerolymatos (1984: 77-8; 1985: 20) and Veremis (1997: 140) point out that some Venizelist republican officers did join these units. They did so, however, as a requirement of reenlisting, following their decommissioning during the 1930’s purges. They argue that because their interest lay in career advancement and regaining their lost status they stressed their anti-communism more than their republicanism. 12 Veremis (1997: 134-9) and, in more detail, Gerolymatos (1984; 1985) discuss the political make-up of Greek officers in the Middle Eastern forces during WW2. Comparable to the make-up of the Security Battalions, most officers were royalist. As previously mentioned, officers with republican leanings had been purged during the 1930s and, in 1941, had been necessarily readmitted into the Armed Forces. In order to counter the right-wing dominance that was prevalent in the Armed Forces at the time, these officers formed social groups within the army, such as the Royal Hellenic Army of the Middle East (VESMA) and the National Liberation Movement (EAS). This latter group was behind the military mutiny. After the were quashed, a purge of the participating officers occurred with a purported 10,000 sent to concentration camps (Jelavich 1983: 281).

27 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

The following six months launched a series of agreements between the British backed government-in-exile and EAM/ELAS.13 These agreements provided for the creation of the ‘Government of National Unity’ headed by —an anti-communist politician of Venizelist background; the withdrawal of ELAS forces from Athens; that all military forces would come under the leadership of the British General Scobie; and that EAM would be represented in the new post-war . EAM was offered five insignificant ministries—a vast difference from the group’s previous demands of three key ones—and, though, by now, disagreements within the communist camp had become prominent, it accepted these terms in August 1944.14 There is evidence to suggest that EAM’s eventual concurrence was chiefly the result of Soviet persuasion: it followed a secret meeting between Soviet officials and EAM leaders, and immediately preceded the Churchill-Stalin ‘Percentage Agreement’—an agreement that designated 90% of Greece to a British in exchange for the USSR’s 90% stake in Romania. These decisions witnessed the beginning of an environment that would, in the next four years, become increasingly determined and dictated by foreign needs: Soviet, British and finally (and importantly) American.

13 The Lebanon Agreement in was followed by the in September of that year. 14 A growing division within the communist camp was becoming evident. On the one side, there were the ‘hardliners’, of which ELAS leaders and Markos Vafiadis were the most vocal. Additionally, many Macedonian fighters and born in Minor quickly took up their cause. This group preferred to pursue a more ideologically active and combatant role. On the other side, there were the ‘moderates’ who preferred a more peaceful acquisition of their ideological goals and were directly answerable to their Soviet leaders. The most staunch ‘moderates’ were the KKE acting chief George Siantos, the titular Commander-in-Chief Colonel Sarafis, and —a man who had trained in the Soviet Union, had been party secretary in 1931 (Kapetanyannis 1987: 163 fn. 2) and, having survived Dachau during the war, had returned to replace Siantos as chief. The disagreements between these two camps became an increasingly prominent feature of inter-personal relationships among EAM, KKE, ELAS and later, the Democratic Army of Greece, and would lead, eventually, to their collective defeat in the final years of Civil War. Eudes (1972) gives a most realistic account of these differences from the Occupation to the end of the Civil War in 1949.

28 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

On 18 , the newly formed ‘Government of National Unity’ returned to a liberated Greece. Celebrations were short-lived as Greece faced the seemingly impossible task of reconstruction. Transport and communication infrastructure had to be completely rebuilt. had reached astronomical highs. Greece had lost a significant number of the population to famine and war hardships. The already substandard living conditions in major urban centres were strained further by the onset of mass rural to urban migration. By the beginning of 1951, 20% of the entire Greek population was living in the Greater Athens area.15 Greece, one of the most acutely malnourished and undernourished populations of any conquered European country during WW2, was embroiled in an increasingly fratricidal atmosphere. Large-scale reprisals occurred by warring parties: ELAS targeting collaborational forces and the Security Battalions, and the Security Battalions, in turn, targeting and arresting left-wing dissidents to be ideologically retrained in exile camps. A series of discussions in about a proposed unified national army and necessary ELAS disbandment proved futile. EAM/ELAS, who had liberated and were in political and military control of the majority of Greece during the Occupation, were now being delegated a back seat in the new government. This ‘radical redistribution of power in the country’ (McNeill 1978: 74) lead to the resignation of EAM delegates at the beginning of December, followed by an EAM/ELAS demonstration in Athens a few days later. The crowds of supporters were fired upon; the ‘Second Round’ of Civil War hostilities followed. Chiefly as a consequence of foreign and motivations, the fighting quickly ebbed and the Varkiza Agreement was signed on 12 . It discerned three main issues for post-war Greece: that ELAS be disarmed, disbanded and integrated into a new national army;

15 In 1951, the population of the Greater Athens area was nearing 1.4 million (McNeill 1978: 4) and the total population of Greece was just over 7.6 million (Clogg 1992: 231, tab. 1).

29 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

that the plebiscite on the King’s return to Greece would be followed by elections; and that collaborators be punished and an amnesty on ‘political crimes’ be granted. All these components quickly became contentious. Firstly, the disbandment of an agreed number of ELAS battalions became a matter of interpretation (Gallant 2001: 173). Secondly, reversing both the agreed order and the agreed period, elections were held at the end of March 1945, prior to the plebiscite. A right-wing coalition party was elected with 55% of the popular vote and, not surprisingly, the plebiscite a few months later returned a two-out-of-three vote in favour of the King’s return (Clogg 1999: 139). Thirdly, collaborators were not brought to justice on a scale that was comparable to the rest of Europe; rather, as was the case with the majority of the Security Battalions (Gerolymatos 1985: 26), they were quickly rehabilitated into the newly formed post-war army. Thus, an environment existed where ultra-right-wingers took revenge on the Left through massive reprisals and revenge killings, which remained unchecked by a government that was finding it exceedingly difficult to bring the disarray and devastation in the nation under control. In these immediate post-Occupation years, right-wing military groups, such as the Sacred Bond of Greek Officers (IDEA, Ιερός ∆εσµός Ελλήνων Αξιωµατικών), began to flourish. IDEA was an organisation of staunch right-wing nationalists who would come to play a significant political role in the next two decades in Greece, with links to , the USA, and prominent religious figures (Stavrou 1976: 105, 118-32).16 Both the gendarmerie and the new commanding officer corps of the National Guard were dominated by passionate anti-communist beliefs and royalist motivations. Regarding themselves as ‘nationally-minded’

16 Born out of the Union of Young Greek Officers (ENA, Ένωσις Νέων Αξιωµατικών)—a conservative/monarchist group in the Middle Eastern army during WW2—IDEA’s members increased significantly in the late ’40s and ’50s, complementing the increase in US-organised . For a thorough account of ENA and IDEA, their ideology, and the latter’s links to various groups in and out of Greece, see Stavrou (1976, particularly pp. 90-135).

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(εθνικόφρονες), they justified policies of ‘’ against the Left, which would continue well into the following decade. An equally extreme response came from the communists. At the end of October 1946, Markos Vafiadis, an ELAS leader during the Occupation, took to the hills and reintegrated disbanded ELAS forces into the Democratic Army of Greece (DSΕ, ∆ηµοκρατικός Στρατός της Ελλάδας). The ideological and statistical composition of the DSE was quite different to its predecessor, ELAS: it was uniformly left wing and, at its peak, consisted of only 28,000 fighters (Chiclet 1990: 212).17 The onset of guerrilla movements in the and northern Greece renewed the ‘Third Round’ of the Civil War in Greece in December 1946. The fighting would continue ceaselessly until the end of the decade, and by November 1948, the hostilities had reached such a feverish pitch that was declared in Greece. Following WW2, economic aid came to Greece principally from the USA; Britain having ceded its foreign role in Greece’s domestic affairs in February 1947. It began with the American Mission for Aid to Greece (AMAG) in March 1947 and continued the following year with the Greek- American Economic Co-Operation Agreement, commonly referred to as the . As a consequence of the Doctrine, the Marshall Plan was an official $400 million US economic recovery programme for post-WW2 Europe. With its implementation, US foreign policy moved away from its isolationist strategies of the past and into a new epoch of involvement in the internal politics of necessarily dependant nations. It undertook policies of an anti-Soviet nature and encouraged governments and leaders that would do the same. At its core lay the fear of a Soviet threat in the Near and Middle East. As Frazier (1999: 235) points out,

17 The DSE did attempt to mimic PEEA’s political structure just before Christmas in 1947, when the ‘Provisional Government of Free Greece’ was announced. Jelavich (1983: 312) suggests, however, that such a political structure was more revealing of parallels with the Anti-Fascist Council for the National Liberation of Yugoslavia (AVNOJ).

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Acheson and General Marshall, the authors of this doctrine, believed that should Greece and fall to a communist/socialist government, a domino effect would ensue with , South-East Asia, Africa, , and Italy subsequently falling victim to the same ideology. Thus, Greece’s freedom from communist forces needed to be secured in order to guarantee the democratic freedom of all nations. Initially, only a small percentage of aid was being used directly in the nation’s economic recovery, as the majority of funds were absorbed by immediate military concerns; that is, the up-scaled campaign against the DSE and the rebuilding of military-related infrastructure and communications (Kofas 1990: 61).18 With this increased US funding and military training, the US could exert virtual control over the Greek Armed Forces and further cement Greece’s relationship with the US as a client of a major power. As Veremis (1997: 9) notes, this type of foreign dependence fostered the idea that the army should indeed become an autonomous body—an idea that may have begun with the Joint United States Military Advisory and Planning Group (JUSMAPG) after WW2, but continued well into the next two decades, and was instrumental to the inception of the 1967 dictatorship. By the end of the decade, the Greek army had become ‘an enclave of American influence’ (ibid., p. 151). As the government forces became increasingly dependent on the US for aid and training, the DSE began to seek more aid and support from its Balkan neighbours. A war that had begun just prior to liberation was fuelled further by reports from the Greek government at the beginning of 1948 that ‘Greek children were being forcibly removed by the guerrillas across

18 Kofas (1990) gives a detailed account of US economic foreign aid from 1947-52, concentrating on the economic recovery in Greece (or more appropriately, the lack thereof) in the immediate post-war years. Of the $350 million of aid for the 1947-8 fiscal year, just over three quarters went into defence and administrative expenses, while the remaining quarter was used in the rebuilding of infrastructure (ibid., p. 61).

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the frontiers […] and retained in those countries’ (Bærentzen 1987: 128). These were accompanied with the Greek government’s mass evacuation policy, actively guided by Queen Frederica, which established 58 children’s homes to ‘find our children [and] to get them before the Communists did’ (ibid., p. 127).19 While the government spoke of ‘genocide’ and ‘dehellenisation’, the guerrillas spoke of the ‘Anglo-American conquerors’ and the ‘barbarity of Monarchofascism’.20 By the end of 1948, however, the DSE’s position looked bleak. Firstly, the expulsion of Tito from the in June of that year meant that the KKE was faced with a difficult decision: if it supported Tito’s Yugoslavia, it risked alienating its Soviet base; if it did not support Tito, then, it could no longer depend on the aid and military support that it had enjoyed primarily from Yugoslavia. Dominated by its pro-Soviet doctrine, the KKE chose to support the latter and, consequently, Tito removed any Yugoslav aid to the guerrillas by mid-1949. Secondly, US military aid to Greece had more than tripled (Veremis 1997: 148) and the government forces had increased dramatically in numbers, from 90,000 in 1946 to 232,000 in 1949 (ibid., pp. 146-50). Finally, the DSE’s disadvantageous policy of forced conscription and the mushrooming division within the communist camp proved decisive in the ultimate failure of its campaign. Taking a more ‘hardline’ approach, the leader of the DSE, Vafiadis, pushed for an escalation of ; however, the KKE leader, Zachariadis, whose approach eventually prevailed, decided on a more traditional warfare route. By mid-1949, the guerrilla fighters were confined to an area of warfare contained just under Yugoslavia and Albania and,

19 Bærentzen quotes from Queen Frederica of the Hellenes (1971), A Measure of Understanding (London), p. 137. 20 Bærentzen (1987) gives a well-written account of both sides of the propaganda war concerning the paidomazoma (παιδοµάζωµα, literally, ‘child gathering’). He estimates that between 25,000 and 28,000 children were displaced during the last two years of the Civil War on the guerrilla side and taken to camps across the border. (Bærentzen points out that there are no statistics available concerning the ‘Queen’s Camps’.)

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save for some sporadic fighting that carried over into the following decade, the Civil War ended in October. Following WW2, the Occupation and the Civil War, Greece was utterly defeated with almost a quarter of a million people homeless and displaced (Woodhouse 1991: 259), a ravaged economy, a depleted society, and a polarised political system. As Mazower (2000: 21) succinctly observes, for Greece, this period was ‘the most prolonged and traumatic experience of its brief life as a nation-state’.

Right-wing dominance and foreign patronage (1950-60) As has been observed, the origins of the Civil War were nationally unique in that they derived from a political vacuum created in a 5-year totalitarian regime under Metaxas and were fostered during an unimaginably harsh occupational environment. Yet, the social, political and economic effects of the Civil War would be felt up to the dictatorship of 1967, and be instrumental in its inception. The international environment following WW2 must be considered, as it continued to provide ‘evidence’ of a communist threat all over the world. All of Greece’s northern neighbours were under communist governments: Romania and Bulgaria were Soviet-controlled regimes; Albania and Yugoslavia had communist rule.21 The had begun and Mao had been victorious in . The communist threat had once again become a major internal security question in Greece, though now it was reflected in an intensifying environment where communism was portrayed as the enemy of all Western nations.

21 The fear, particularly of Bulgaria, was especially strong in the early post-war years. As Hatzivassiliou (1995: 188-90) points out, Bulgaria was the USSR’s staunchest ally during the 1950s, and the number of its armed forces far outweighed that of Greece. Conversely, Yugoslavia’s break with the USSR in the late-1940s meant that Greece was relieved of a combined Soviet-Yugoslav threat, thereby promoting friendly Greek-Yugoslav relations. Consequently, the was signed in 1953-4 between Yugoslavia, Greece and Turkey, though increased tensions with the latter over the escalating conflict in Cyprus from 1955 would not see the agreement bear fruit.

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The domination of the Right in Greece during the 1950s was reflected in the governments, in the military and in the post-war recovery initiatives, which continued to favour economic elites. Security police, reusing and updating the Maniadakis files, kept a close eye on potential nonconformists, as did an increasingly efficient para-state of unofficial police recruits, who were employed not only to keep a check on dissident activity but also to intervene physically if necessary. Under the conservative governments of the 1950s most death sentences imposed during the Civil War were commuted (with the notable exception of the execution of the communist Beloyannis, which met with much international outrage) and almost all other political prisoners were pardoned or had their sentences reduced. Such considerations, however, were largely counter-balanced by an evolving state that had an exceptionally effective network for finding and punishing dissidents in other ways.22 This extensive left-wing persecution was aided with a return to pre- existing pre-war legislation and Civil War emergency laws. These allowed for, amongst other things, the outlawing of citizens deemed ‘dangerous to public security’ (Mazower 2000: 13) and provided severe penalties (and in some cases death) for ‘belonging to an organisation seeking to overthrow the established social system’ (‘Athenian’ 1972: 37). Due to their ambiguous phrasing, such laws—particularly the latter (Law 509)—could be and were broadly interpretable (Clogg 1986: 168; Legg & 1997: 46). Thus, many Greeks were deprived of citizenship while others were required to sign certificates declaring their ‘healthy’ social views and ‘good

22 Under the conservative governments of the 1950s and early 1960s, just over 24,000 political prisoners were released; however, from 1952 until 1967, some 22,000 people were deprived of their citizenship and 1,722 people were deported to internal exile camps (Close 2002: 94-5).

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citizenship’ (Πιστοποιητικά Κοινωνικών Φρονηµάτων) in order to obtain state employment, driver’s licenses and passports (Clogg 1992: 148).23 Additionally, government manipulation of the news was also possible through various pre-established acts.24 Successive right-wing governments favoured ‘friendly’ papers with subsidies and discounts, while heavy consequences existed for those who purchased or circulated newspapers of the Centre and the Left (Close 2002: 95; Dimakis 1977: 231). Between 1949 and 1952, politics resembled ‘a perverted version of musical chairs’ (Legg & Roberts 1997: 46) with ministerial positions often being held by the same figures, while failed coalition governments around them changed.25 The post-war political domination of the Right began with a futile coup at the end of May 1951 and the subsequent rise of the Greek Rally (Ελληνικός Συναγερµός) under the leadership of the recently resigned head of the Armed Forces, . The unsuccessful coup was allegedly instigated by the ultra-right- wing group IDEA in order to secure the political leadership of Papagos. Papagos, a of the Albanian Campaign in 1940-1 and the Commander- in-Chief during the last stage of Civil War, immediately disassociated himself from the group of usurpers, wishing instead to gain power by democratic means—a feat which he achieved the following year.26

23 Samatas (1986) gives a most interesting and thought-provoking analysis of ‘McCarthyism’ in post-war Greece. He compares and contrasts the nature and method of the post-WW2 anti-communist propaganda employed both in Greece and in the US (as well as the influence the latter had on the former), with examples of certificates and ‘loyalty statements’ in the appendices. 24 The government owned the broadcast media—a relationship that had matured during the Civil War (Close 2002: 95; Katsoudas 1987: 190)—and the Minister to the Prime Minister could influence which news items would appear (Katsoudas 1987: 193). The real extent of the manipulation of such laws would become most evident during the 1967-74 dictatorship. 25 In the 1950 elections alone, there were some 44 parties contesting seats in parliament (Clogg 1987: 22-6). 26 In the investigation following the attempted coup, 17 officers were recommended for court martial (Stavrou 1976: 148). A royal decree on 25 January 1952, while confirming that IDEA was indeed behind the mutiny, pardoned all officers involved in it (ibid., pp. 150-1) and expelled only those convicted of ‘disciplinary violations’ (ibid., p. 151). When

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Though the Greek Rally had the majority of seats in parliament it still needed a coalition to govern and Papagos, having an open disdain for politicians (and, therefore, not naming his party ‘a Party’), refused. Accordingly, a Centre coalition was formed and a new constitution came into effect in January 1952. The new constitution guaranteed civil rights, though, as previously discussed, in most instances, these were overshadowed by a variety of emergency measures from the period of Metaxas and the Civil War. In the lead up to the new elections, Papagos’s campaign was simple: Greece had a choice between ‘Papagos, the Old Parties, or Communism’ (N. C. 1952: 29). Economic stability and reconstruction would only come about through a strong political system, and the USA exerted great pressure on Greece for a change in the electoral system that would favour a Papagos majority. Papagos’s absolute support of a foreign policy of loyalty to NATO and the West, and conversely, his opposition to a domestic policy that tolerated the Left (Woodhouse 1991: 262-3), made him the prime US choice. In fact, the US threatened to reduce aid by $43 million if the appropriate electoral changes were not made (Clogg 1986: 167). As a result, between the 1951-2 elections, the electoral system was changed and in the November 1952 elections, Papagos gained the clear majority.27

Papagos’s Greek Rally came to power, all of the expelled officers were reinstated into key positions (ibid., p. 152). Stavrou (ibid., pp. 140-52) gives a detailed analysis of this event. Once IDEA’s allegiance to Papagos had assisted in the latter’s political ascendance, the group remained relatively inactive for several years (Woodhouse 1985a: 8-9) and regrouped only after the 1958 elections as the National Union of Young Officers (EENA, Εθνική Ένωση Νέων Αξιωµατικών), lead by the future dictator Georgios Papadopoulos. Though sources disagree as to EENA’s inception date, its existence as a para-state army organisation and its founder as Papadopoulos are not disputed. Stavrou (1976: 168) places its formation at February 1956 and links it directly to the Pericles Plan of the 1960s (ibid., pp. 168-9) with possible connections to the ASPIDA affair (ibid., p. 169). Woodhouse (1985a: 9), though not entirely inconsistent, puts its ‘organised form’ at almost a decade later in 1965. 27 The electoral system was changed from one of reinforced proportional representation to a majoritarian system favouring a single dominant group. Thus, in the November 1952 elections, Papagos gained 82% of parliamentary seats with only 49.2% of the popular vote. After these elections, the majority system was amalgamated with elements of the proportional representation system for the 1956 elections. Since then, the electoral

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The political domination of the Right kept the economy and the society relatively stable; something that was needed if Greece was to begin the tremendous job of post-war reconstruction in earnest. 80,000 people had died and no less than this number had fled and resettled in the communist world (Gallant 2001: 178-9). One tenth of the entire population was living in refugee camps around a few major cities (ibid., p. 179; McNeill 1978: 87) and, according to the Ministry of Welfare, over 1.6 million were destitute (Gallant 2001: 179). was endemic: in 1952, one out of four people in the labour force was out of work. As Greece’s unemployment and underemployment rate in rural areas was more than six times that of its urban counterpart (Kofas 1990: 82), a large portion of the reconstructive process focused on the agricultural sector. Farmers found it relatively easy to gain loans from the Agricultural Bank (Close 2002: 47; Gallant 2001: 186), even though bank credits were primarily available to farmers producing on a larger scale (Georgiou 1988: 72; Pepelasis 1959: 193 fn. 53). Agricultural production increased, stimulated by training in the use of new materials and machinery in both traditional (tobacco, olives, currants) and non-traditional (cotton, rice, sugar beet) crops (Close 2002: 49-50).28 Construction was most prominent in the major cities and would be hastened by the mass rural to urban emigration of the late 1950s and

system has remained one of reinforced proportional representation. This system favours larger parties, as smaller ones are forced to form unstable coalitions to gain a majority. For this reason, it was especially disadvantageous to parties of the Left who were disunited and smaller in number, because of continued persecution and repression. Conversely, it was especially advantageous to the ‘containment of the Left’ policy of the 1950s and early 1960s governments. Clogg (1987, especially Ch. 2) gives a thorough account of the post-war elections, the changes to the electoral system, and, importantly, the government in power’s ability to manipulate both of these to favour itself and disadvantage the opposition. cf. Legg & Roberts (1997: 128-9). 28 In fact, between 1950 and 1973, agricultural production increased by 122% even though the number of employees in the agricultural sector decreased from 57% to 36% (Close 2002: 49).

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1960s.29 Building took on a massive scale, from housing (which was helped along with a lowering of interest rates) to the building of the national electrical grid, plants, lignite mines and the 1955 dam. With new roads and better direct communication with Athens, some refugees, previously housed in urban centres, were successfully relocated back to their villages.30 These changes in the early post-war years were stimulated by an influx of US economic aid. By the end of 1951, Greece had received almost $1 billion in US Aid (Clogg 1992: 147), the majority of which, as was previously noted, had been used against the guerrilla fighters in the later stages of the Civil War. Other measures that proved successful were also initiated. The devaluation of the drachma in April 1953, under Papagos’s then Minister of Coordination Spyros Markezinis, helped level out the grossly imbalanced export-import ratio in the early 1950s (Close 2002: 45; Gallant 2001: 180). With the change in and encouragement of exports and the relaxation of import controls, the introduction of a new foreign capital law in 1953 became all the more advantageous to the external investor.31 Though large-scale investment also came from Europe (McNeill 1978: 100), by the time its aid had officially ceased, the USA had become Greece’s major

29 By the early 1960s, the Greater Athens area had almost a quarter of the entire population of Greece (Clogg 1986: 176). A total of 1.2 million and a further 620,000 in the 1970s came from the countryside seeking work, education and opportunity in the city centres (Close 2002: 61). The population of Greater Athens increased by 35% from 1951 to 1961 (Clogg 1992: 155) and by 37% from 1961 to 1971 (ibid., p. 149). Athens was not the only city to grow: Thessaloniki’s population increased by 25% (McNeill 1978: 106). 30 This was especially true after the distribution of livestock and other inducements (McNeill 1978: 91-2) and the construction of over 175,000 new houses (Gallant 2001: 186). 31 Kofas (1990: 88-9) briefly discusses Law 2687 and focuses on it providing advantages to foreign investors, such as a taxation system that protected foreign capital and provided guarantees against governmental interference and the ‘unchangeability [sic] of the terms and conditions agreed upon’. Georgiou (1988: 41-6) elaborates on this further, remarking that these incentives were furthered in 1962 and ‘reached a peak’ during the dictatorship (ibid., p. 43). By 1973, 15 of the world’s largest transnational companies were represented in Greece’s growing industry and commerce sector—a feat that was indeed ‘impressive by world standards’ (ibid., p. 49).

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trading partner, discouraging Greece from pursuing foreign trade policies with other nations closer to home.32 By the end of the 1940s, American transnational corporations had gained control of major construction and projects and invested in mining and industry.33 In 1949, the monopoly of the country’s communication network went to an American-based transnational corporation (Kofas 1990: 87), followed by the establishment of the Public Electricity Company in 1950 (Close 2002: 90). Additionally, the USA established the Currency Committee, which oversaw Greece’s financial network and consequently ‘enjoyed more comprehensive powers in Greece than any other public or private entity’ (Kofas 1990: 65-6). On Papagos’s death in 1955, took over as Prime Minister. Karamanlis had a long political history in Greece. Entering national politics just prior to the period of Metaxas, he became active in post-liberation discussions. He was a committed anti-communist and during the later part of the Civil War, he escaped to the government-in- exile in Egypt (Gallant 2001: 183-4). He was Minister of Communication and Public Works under Papagos and, as a clear favourite of the Crown, he was chosen by King Paul as Papagos’s replacement (Woodhouse 1991: 273). He refashioned the Greek Rally into the National Radical Union (ERE, Εθνική Ριζοσπαστική Ένωση) and in the 1956 elections, under a revised and complicated electoral law, he retained a majority in parliament and remained in power for the next seven years. If Papagos’s rule provided the basis for economic growth and the furthering of US/Western interests within Greece, Karamanlis’s rule fostered it. Under Karamanlis, foreign investment in Greece grew to $630

32 During this period, less than an average of 5% of trade was with Balkan countries (Close 2002: 126) while 90% of Greece’s trade was with the USA and Western Europe (Kofas 1990: 80); the former amounting to 36.6% of total trade (ibid., pp. 64-5). 33 Hatzivassiliou (1995: 192) reflects on USA dominance in the Greek economy by pointing out the drastic increase in commercial exchanges between the USA and Greece: from a 1952 total of $3 million to a 1958 total of $37.2 million.

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million—the majority of which continued to be invested in construction and refineries, chemical processing plants, shipyards and metallurgy (Close 2002: 53; McNeill 1978: 112). A significant component of economic growth began to emerge from the contribution of revenue from invisibles: migrant remittances, shipping, and (Legg & Roberts 1997: 46). By the mid-1960s, these were heavily relied upon to supplement the economy, to help balance international payments, and to keep government credit relatively sound (McNeill 1978: 117). Manufacture and industry, which had both stagnated in the immediate post-war period, had become the fastest growing element in the economy. Agriculture, on the other hand, was becoming the least profitable sector, particularly once the effects of Greek rural migration began to eventuate.34 From the late 1950s to the 1960s, 10% of the entire population of Greece had migrated (Close 2002: 62; Gallant 2001: 192, tab. 9.2; Lianos 1997: 78). As McNeill (1978: 116) stresses, the loss of a quarter of the Greek workforce accelerated the transition ‘from a labor surplus to a labor deficit society’. Along with the positive effects of an economic boom, an increase in the standard of living, and a more than doubling of the average annual income by 1962 (Anthem 1963: 272; Clogg 1992: 149), the inequalities of wealth distribution continued to widen.35 Rural Greece could not keep up with the consumer boom of its urban counterpart, while the wealth in the cities was increasingly concentrated among a small number of economic elites.

34 Manufacture’s contribution to the Gross Domestic Product (GDP) increased (11.5% to 21%) along with construction’s (5.5% to 9.7%). Agriculture’s contribution, however, decreased (21.1% to 15.5%) (Close 2002: 48). Employment figures also reflect this: employment in the industrial and service sectors began to equal that of the agricultural sector for the first time (Clogg 1986: 176). 35 In 1958, 64% of Athenians had electricity, compared to 13% of rural Greece. Similar figures exist in 1961 concerning the supply of running water: 35% to 11%, respectively (Close 2002: 61).

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The 1958 elections were to create a more pressing problem for the Right: the official opposition, with almost 25% of the popular vote, had become the main left-wing party, the United Democratic Left (EDA, Ενιαία ∆ηµοκρατική Αριστερά). The EDA was formed for the 1951 elections out of the 1950 Democratic Union. In the absence of a communist party, which had been outlawed from 1936, it was the official party of the Left and by the 1960s boasted some 70,000 members (Close 2002: 102; Kapetanyannis 1987: 149). Public dissatisfaction and Centre-party disorganisation and disunity certainly contributed to such a dramatic rise in left-wing support, as did the growing refugee population, which had matured in the makeshift homes of the urban centres in the 1950s (Legg 1969: 211-14). Nevertheless, considering the large-scale persecution of the Left that had marked the 1950s, this was quite an achievement. Understandably alarming right-wing circles, this surge in left-wing support would define the movements of the Right, the Crown, the Centre, the military and its para-state in the following decade.

Post-war military professionalism and the rise of Papandreou (1960-7) After the Civil War, the Armed Forces became, for the first time, a major power force independent of parliament (Legg 1969: 190-1). The inter-war feud between monarchists and republicans had transformed into an ideological hardening of Right versus Left during the Civil War. In the post- war period, the Right’s ideology grew to be almost entirely homogenous in its nationalistic, anti-communism and messianic tendencies. The ‘nationally-minded’ Armed Forces, who had achieved success against the communist insurgents during the Civil War, continued to be the ‘protectors’ of the nation’s security. They were the ‘saviours’ of the nation, embracing all the ideological prerequisites of a ‘Helleno-Christian’ citizen: bravery, fearlessness, honour, self-sacrifice and faith. As the doctrine of their radio network suggested, their purpose was to ‘enlighten’ and

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‘educate’ the public in anti-communism and (therefore) Hellenism (Katsoudas 1987: 191). In post-war Greece, the military’s maintenance of internal security became largely a question of support: firstly, from a non-interfering government who would not question the military’s power structure or their autonomy; and secondly, from the patronage of the USA and NATO. The former is reflected through the controversies of the 1960s: the Pericles Plan, the ASPIDA Affair, the Papandreou/Crown clash of 1965, and the military’s unquestionable electoral support of Karamanlis’s ERE, which peaked at a massive 78.9% in the 1961 elections (Legg 1969: 219, tab. 8.6).36 Foreign patronage of the Greek military has become largely evident from the previous examination of the magnitude of US military aid during the last three years of the Civil War. This aid continued well into the 1950s and 1960s through Military Assistance Programs (MAPs) even when civil aid, and subsequently, overt US political involvement, had ended (Veremis 1993: 9).37 Under the pretext of a need to defend Western interests by safeguarding Greek internal security, additional aid was sought and provided through the (Hatzivassiliou 1995: 195; McNeill 1978: 99). The initial post-war increase in budget allocations for defence (Kofas 1990: 70) was complemented by an annual average increase of just over 4% in real military spending (Antonakis 1997: 90). Though ties with , France and Italy had strengthened by the time Greece gained associate membership to the European Economic Community (EEC) in 1961, this connection was chiefly political and economic. Military matters remained the primary concern of the USA, and, by the end of 1951, of NATO (Hatzivassiliou 1995: 195).

36 All statistical figures given by Legg (1969) are obtained from the returns published by the Greek government after each election (ibid., p. 141). 37 Between 1948 and 1964 the US supplied Greece with over $2 billion in Armed Forces’ equipment and funding (Close 2002: 125).

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Accordingly, while US civil aid translated into US foreign investment, US military aid was replaced by NATO support. Consequently, the ‘heroic national ideal’ of the army—an ideal which increasingly separated it from and assisted it in ‘establishing and maintaining the incorporate/exclusionist character of the relations of domination’ (Mouzelis 1986: 75)—was accentuated through the army’s access to NATO funds and training (McNeill 1978: 249-50). The Armed Forces of Greece became increasingly answerable only to their patrons. The NATO alliance offered the army foreign protection and modernisation, through its indoctrination and training in Western intelligence and military systems, and professionalism on a scale that it had not previously experienced.38 It also facilitated it maintaining its size, counteracting much of the necessary downsizing that had occurred at the end of the Civil War (Zaharopoulos 1972: 22).39 This alliance also included the establishment of official organisations such as the Central Service of Information (KYP, Κεντρική Υπηρεσία Πληροφοριών), the ‘nerve centre of the security apparatus’, which was fashioned on, equipped and trained by the CIA (Close 2002: 85). KYP was established by Papagos in 1953 and staffed by officers in the Armed Forces and the police. It utilised a wide para-state network and exercised much power leading up to, during and after the dictatorship. It was such a type of para-state network that, with the help of pro- royalist members of the army and police, organised and implemented the Pericles Plan in the 1961 elections (Stavrou 1976: 162-5). The plan, though designed to be used for an internal emergency (Woodhouse 1985a: 9), was used on behalf of the ERE to weaken the Left’s electoral pull in the elections. This electoral manipulation and fraud

38 Over 13,000 trained overseas under such modernisation initiatives (Close 2002: 125; Veremis 1993: 155). 39 One estimate has the combined military and security forces at the end of the Civil War at 250,000 (Legg & Roberts 1997: 45).

44 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

is of particular relevance to this thesis as the later dictator Papadopoulos, then, a colonel of KYP, was secretary of the plan (‘Athenian’ 1972: 42; Papachelas 1998: 159; Stavrou 1976: 170).40 Indeed, the ERE increased both their popular vote and their number of parliamentary seats, and EDA’s electoral support significantly waned; however, what the Pericles Plan actually served to achieve was the strengthening of a new Centre party: the Centre Union (EK, Ένωσις Κέντρου), under the leadership of an old political figure, George Papandreou. Though the ERE was victorious, it is doubtful that the Pericles Plan, or other forms of electoral manipulation and pre-election incentives, would have significantly affected the final result (‘Athenian’ 1972: 42; Clogg 1986: 178; Legg & Roberts 1997: 50).41 Nevertheless, Papandreou became immediately active in rallying and mobilising political support for his ‘unrelenting struggle’ for new and fair elections to take place—a support that was not difficult to uncover. The people of Greece were tiring of continued para-state and police repression and retained fewer reasons to continue their support of a government that had been effectively associated with both. This was especially valid in May 1963 after the of the EDA official Grigorios Lambrakis was successfully linked to para-state thugs and police officials. The public outcry was evident in that over a quarter of a million

40 Stavrou quotes from (1966), Βούλευµα Αναθεωρητικού ∆ικαστηρίου, 38: 15-47. 41 In addition to the Pericles Plan, Roberts & Legg (1991: 48-50) found evidence of ERE increasing pre-election disbursements in competitive districts. Conversely, they decreased disbursements in areas that were traditionally aligned with the opposition. This same policy of reward or punishment did not help them, however, in the 1963 elections (ibid., p. 50). Furthermore, as Clogg (1986: 178) notes, there were irregularities in the distribution of seats as the electorate was represented by the 1951 population distribution of Greece and not that of a decade later, which, as has been discussed, was vastly different due to mass migration. Additionally, the fact that the army could vote wherever it served further facilitated this electoral infiltration and village intimidation (Close 2002: 104), particularly in the northern border regions (Clogg 1986: 178).

45 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

people were reported to have attended Lambrakis’s funeral in Thessaloniki.42 Secondly, the government’s loyalty to the US and NATO was continually brought into question. The perception of a communist threat was ebbing and, subsequently, the Right’s platform of protecting the nation from this danger no longer held such sway. With the passing of time, the internal polarisation that had stigmatised the nation in the 1940s was receding. Despite this, nearly one third of the budget was still going toward defence (Woodhouse 1991: 283) and US military and air bases (from 1953 and 1955, respectively), as well as nuclear missile storage bases (1959-60), were still being accommodated on Greek soil. Thirdly, by 1963, the strain on the balance of payments was evident, and the economic recovery of the 1950s was slowing down. Taxes had increased, though wages, significantly, had not. The government’s disagreements with the royals became more frequent, as did the public questioning of the Crown’s abuse of royal spending, its political preferences and its clientage ties with the Armed Forces (‘Athenian’ 1972: 37-8). Finally, the government’s actions leading up to the troubled independence of Cyprus, and the subsequent US and UN passivity in the situation further stimulated the public’s opposition to the government. The call in Cyprus for (unification of Cyprus to Greece) dominated in the latter half of the 1950s and inspired a great many public demonstrations in both nations. Following a series of escalated campaigns by both Greek and Turkish sides, a rejected draft constitution, and continued unsuccessful attempts to have the matter heard in the UN (Woodhouse 1961: 191-2), there appeared to be no solution to the Cypriot issue. The Greeks wanted enosis, the Turks partitioning (), and once British forces had withdrawn from the Suez Canal after its nationalisation

42 To Vima 29 May 1963, p. 1.

46 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

in July 1956, the British were seeking a trusted Mediterranean base (ibid., p. 209). At the end of 1958, Archbishop Makarios III, the leader of the Greek Cypriots and a staunch advocator of the cause for enosis, begun to consider a different option that would find a solution to the persistent fighting in Cyprus. On 16 , tripartite talks in Zurich discussed the model for an independent Cyprus. The new constitution provided for a Greek president and a Turkish vice-president; a specified number of Turkish and Greek troops on the island and a specified percentage of representatives of each nationality in parliament and in the police force (with the relatively small Turkish minority being provided with a notably high percentage); and British sovereignty over the island and two British military bases. Furthermore, it provided that the security of the island would be guaranteed by the three nations, with each nation having the right to intervene in its defence. The Treaty of Guarantee was signed in 1959 and Cyprus became an independent nation in August 1960.43 Under intense pressure, Karamanlis resigned on 11 June 1963. His successor, Kanellopoulos, though a respected politician, could not gain the ground that was necessary for an ERE victory. In the elections, Papandreou received the public vote. Although his party gained plurality, it needed EDA’s support for the majority of seats in parliament. Eventually Papandreou refused and new elections were set for the following year. The lead-up to the February 1964 elections witnessed countrywide assemblies, student demonstrations and industrial action. In this interim

43 Colonel Grivas (of ‘X’ fame during the Civil War) who had directed the chiefly EOKA-led terror campaign against the , became the most vocal opponent of the new constitution, equating it to the ‘selling out’ of the enosis ideal. Grivas moved back to Greece and was welcomed by the government, where, amongst much pomp and glory, King Paul decorated him with the rank of Lieutenant-General (Woodhouse 1991: 279). Grivas and EOKA (and, then, its offshoot EOKA-B) would retain some prominence in the following years – importantly, in the lead-up to the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1974.

47 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

period, Papandreou legislated for educational reform and increased wages and salaries. Papandreou, a recognised and gifted orator, used the new telecommunications and transport network effectively to launch his campaign of ‘the battle on two fronts’, i.e., the Right and the Left (‘Athenian’ 1972: 43). This campaign met with the ultimate success: in the new elections, he gained both the popular vote and the majority of seats in the parliament.44 Under Papandreou, there was a noted improvement in social services and a rise in civil servant salaries and farmers’ pensions (Clogg 1986: 183; Close 2002: 107; McNeill 1978: 115). Necessary reforms to a highly formalistic educational system were, however, his biggest achievement.45 Free education was extended to the secondary and tertiary sectors, the years of compulsory education were increased, and an emphasis was placed on new subjects and on modern rather than ancient languages. Demotic, the spoken language, became the language of primary schools and gained an equal footing at the secondary level with katharevousa, a purist amalgam of classical and Modern Greek (‘Athenian’ 1972: 48; Close 2002: 107). These changes were initiated with an increase of over a third in the educational expenditure that year (Clogg 1986: 183; Close 2002: 107). His short-lived rule was overshadowed by two factors: the materialisation of problems in an unworkable Cypriot constitution, and implemented or proposed changes that threatened the traditional elements of the political system; that is, elite business circles and the army. These would lead to his forced resignation in July 1965.

44 EK won 52.7% of the popular vote and 171 out of 300 seats. This success was at the expense of ERE votes, whose parliamentary seats decreased from 176, in 1961, to 107, in its 1964 coalition with the Progressive Party. Curiously, EDA, as some authors (Kapetanyannis 1987: 172, tab. 1; McDonald 1990: 258) point out, did not contest these elections in 24 of its 55 constituencies and, instead, instructed its supporters to vote for EK (Kapetanyannis 1987: 172). 45 On the formalistic nature of Greek education, see Mouzelis (1978: 136-7).

48 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

Concerning the former, Makarios’s attempts to revise the power- sharing arrangements between the Greek and Turkish sides in the 1960 Cypriot constitution had proved futile. In November 1963, the proposed revisions were promptly rejected by Turkey. By the end of the year, bouts of inter-communal fighting were renewed on the island. After an increased Soviet naval presence in the Mediterranean and concern over Makarios’s friendly relations with , the USA stepped in. Cyprus had become of substantial strategic military importance to the USA who was eager to maintain a peaceful environment there. Additionally, the US had three main concerns: Papandreou’s support of the Cypriot president; his rejection of a US resolution plan for Cyprus—as Woodhouse (1985a: 7) suggests, at the coercion of his son, Andreas, who was an admirer of Makarios; and his illegal increase of Greek troops (under Grivas) on the island. By March 1964, a UN peacekeeping force had been moved onto the island. In Greece, Papandreou’s planned legislation to bring foreign and Greek monopoly capital under government control, though still advantageous to foreign investors, was a move that alarmed elite business circles (Clogg 1986: 183). This was especially true for two of the largest transnational corporations: Pechiney-Niarchos in mining and Esso-Pappas in oil. Up until that time, both corporations had enjoyed the most generous foreign investment incentives (Georgiou 1988: 49, 52-5); however, under Papandreou, an independent foreign policy meant the traditional monopoly of the Greek market was no longer unquestionably pro-Western and anti- communist. A new trade agreement with Bulgaria paved the way for Greek markets in Eastern European countries (Clogg 1986: 183; McNeill 1978: 115-6). A renegotiation of previous foreign investments—though certainly more advantageous to Greece—would be at the expense of Greece’s ‘subservient industrialisation under the aegis of transnationals’ (Georgiou 1988: 71).

49 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

Nevertheless, Papandreou’s term was quickly overshadowed by matters concerning the military’s and its royal patronage, when a leaked document concerning another para-state group brought both these matters to the fore in 1965.46 ASPIDA (Αξιωµατικοί Σώσατε Πατρίδα, Ιδανικά, ∆ηµοκρατία, Αξιοκρατία) [Officers Save the Fatherland, Ideals, Democracy, Meritocracy] was purported to be a Nasser-type nationalistic organisation formed in Cyprus by military factions. Though initially it aimed at supporting Makarios against a NATO solution in Cyprus, its ambitions were said to have spread to Greece seeking to transform the Armed Forces into an EK instrument (Stavrou 1976: 165-7).47 Importantly, the future dictator, Papadopoulos, quickly became one of the most vocal attackers of this alleged conspiracy and spoke of its members as communists ceaselessly trying to elements of the army.48 Matters became worse for Papandreou when his son, Andreas, a newly recruited minister in his father’s cabinet, was fingered as an active member of ASPIDA. had resettled in Greece in the early 1960s after living and working successfully as an economics professor in the USA. He accepted the directorship of the new Centre for Economic Research in Athens but resigned in February 1964 to take up a post in his father’s cabinet. His rapid rise through the ranks as Minister to

46 It was later documented that Colonel Grivas was the one that sent these initial reports to Greece (McDonald 1990: 259; Stavrou 1976: 165; Woodhouse 1985a: 5). 47 Questions remain as to the realities of and motives behind ASPIDA. Stavrou (1977: 168) notes that officers who were arrested and tried for their participation is this para-state organisation were later released under the junta. Additionally, the key witnesses during the trial that testified to ASPIDA’s existence were all rewarded with key positions during the junta. ‘Athenian’ (1972: 52) points out that the officers who were found guilty were known for their democratic outlook and (perhaps coincidentally) the fingered leader of the group had had a negative run-in with Papadopoulos himself (ibid., p. 73). Moreover, during the first weeks of the dictatorship, a clearly fabricated letter supposedly written by George Papandreou concerning ASPIDA was published in a pro-junta newspaper (Eleutheros Kosmos 6-7 May 1967). 48 It was later proved that, in certain instances, Papadopoulos himself was the saboteur. This was the case with the reports of sabotaged petrol tanks on military vehicles in the Evros district on 10 June. Serious action was never taken against him: Papadopoulos received a 15-day sentence and retained his rank, possibly, as Mitsotakis (Papachelas 1996) and Woodhouse (1985a: 10) suggest, because of personal ties to Papandreou.

50 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

the Prime Minister and then Deputy Minister of Co-Ordination (‘Athenian’ 1972: 46) caused much dissention and talk of within the EK. George Papandreou placed much of the blame for the controversy that transpired on fabrications from a disgruntled army. Under his leadership, the defence budget was cut by 10% (Woodhouse 1991: 285) and 11 para-state military organisations had been dissolved (Stavrou 1976: 161). When, in mid-1965, Papandreou attempted to force further changes, his Minister of Defence, Garoufalias, refused to sign off on them. Determined, Papandreou turned to the young King Constantine II (who had replaced Paul in March 1964) and asked that Garoufalias be fired immediately and that the defence portfolio be handed over to him. The King agreed to the former request but refused the latter. Such a transfer would have taken control of the Armed Forces away from the Crown, the traditional head. Moreover, in light of the ASPIDA affair and Andreas’s potential involvement in it, making Papandreou the head of the Armed Forces would have effectively placed him in charge of his own son’s trial (should there be one). Due to the impasse, Papandreou resigned.49 The question of the King’s active role in politics and the ’s role as the military’s patron dominated public discourse. The Crown’s support was waning and, conversely, Papandreou’s support was growing. Andreas Papandreou, who was especially outspoken about his disdain for ‘the establishment’ and the need to review the privileges enjoyed by the private sector and its monopoly over industry and banks (Georgiou 1988: 57), was also gathering momentum.50

49 Papandreou (1973: 163-81) gives a detailed account of the events that transpired, including the arguments put forward by both his father, George Papandreou, and King Constantine through the transcription of their official correspondence at the time. 50 Andreas’s vocal disdain for ‘the establishment’ should not be confused with his possible involvement in the ASPIDA affair, which is highly doubtful. He was never prosecuted for it—though, he was charged with high (McDonald 1990: 265; Wheeler 1967: 233 fn. 5)—and under the dictatorship, if such proof had existed, he most certainly would have been.

51 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.1 – World War Two-1967

A rise in labour bargaining power combined with a growingly disgruntled and disillusioned nation manifested itself in an eightfold rise in strikes (Close 2002: 105).51 There was an increase in and demonstrations in the city centres and provincial areas, with students becoming more active and organised.52 These occurred predominantly in the months that immediately followed Papandreou’s resignation and then, again, in the months leading up to the planned May 1967 elections (Legg 1969: 225). The political climate was once again polarised with perceived victories for both the Left and the Right. For the former, the victory came at the end of 1966, with convictions for those responsible for the Lambrakis assassination.53 For the latter, the victory came a few months later with the conviction of the majority of officers tried in the ASPIDA affair. From Papandreou’s resignation on 15 July 1965, Greece entered into another ‘perverted version of musical chairs’, ushering in one caretaker government after another.54 Eventually, an election date was fixed for 28 May 1967, and, Papandreou, with his party’s increased support, was virtually assured a victory – one which would never eventuate. Pre-empting the beginning of Papandreou’s electoral campaign in Thessaloniki, the ‘Colonels’ seized power and would retain it until 1974.

Georgiou’s opinion is drawn from K. Tsoukalas (1969), Η Ελληνική Τραγωδία [The ] (Athens: Olkos), p. 182. cf. Andreas’s own view in Papandreou (1973: 121- 9). 51 Close compares 1966 strike figures with those of 1959. Fakiolas (1987: 182, tab. 1) gives similar figures of almost an eightfold rise in the average hours lost due to strikes between 1961 and 1966. 52 Many groups activated between 1956 and 1967, some with international ties. Particularly of note was the 40,000 member-strong Lambrakis Youth that formed on 8 June 1963 and was lead by the famous Greek composer, Theodorakis (Close 2002: 105; Kapetanyannis 1987: 164 fn. 9; Theodorakis 1973: 306). This group was a leading force in the 1965-7 demonstrations (Kapetanyannis 1987: 150). 53 It should be noted that the convictions were for ‘political conspiracy’ and not for murder (Woodhouse 1991: 289). 54 It was under on of these caretaker governments (Stephanopoulos’s) that Spandidakis was appointed Chief of General Staff. This is significant as Spandidakis made a number of important transfers during this time that better facilitated the carrying out of the coup (Woodhouse 1985a: 11-12; McDonald 1990: 261).

52 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

Chapter 1.2 – The ‘21st April 1967’ Dictatorship (1967-74)

The unscrupulous and wretched political-party venality; the reckless behaviour of a large part of the Press; the methodical attack against, and undermining of, all institutions; the total degradation of Parliament; the slandering of everything; the paralysis of the State Machinery; the complete lack of understanding of the burning problems of our Youth; the mistreatment of our students and graduates; the moral decline; the confused and blurred, the secret and the open collaboration with subversives; and, finally, the continual inflammatory preaching of unprincipled demagogues have destroyed the serenity of the land, have created a climate of anarchy and chaos, have cultivated conditions of hate and division and have led us to the brink of National catastrophe. No other way of salvation remained other than the intervention of our Army (Kollias’s inaugural speech as Prime Minister on 21 April 1967).

Considering the previous historical account, it is evident how the junta’s initial justifications for its usurping power also acted as its ongoing legitimation. Greece had suffered through an ideologically polarising Civil War and almost two decades of right-wing domination and left-wing containment in an ideologically polarising Cold War. By the 1960s, the population had become increasingly vocal about the nation’s internal and external policies and this proclivity manifested itself in a strengthening of the Centre in favour of liberalisation. In the 1964 elections, Papandreou and his Centre Union (EK) won both the popular vote and the parliament plurality. Spurred on by progressive elements in the EK—most notably his son, Andreas—Papandreou proposed and implemented modernisation policies in many sectors of the Greek economy, society, and polity. Of particular

53 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

relevance to this thesis, he re-examined the government’s relationship with dominant interest groups such as the Armed Forces.1 As has previously been discussed, after the influx of US aid and training, as well as of NATO funding and strategy, the Greek military ‘was thoroughly professionalized [and] was elevated as the country’s most powerful political institution’ (Danopoulos 1988: 224)—an institution whose primary purpose was to secure Greece’s borders (and interests) from an internal or external communist threat. Consequently, the contemporary officer came to possess:

Both modern managerial skills and traditional characteristics such as bravery, heroism, and discipline [that provided] the military with the necessary skills to govern complex organizations [while fostering] the belief that they also command the ability and expertise to ‘administer the civilian society’ (Danopoulos 1988: 220).2

The army viewed its own interests ‘as those of Greece as a whole’ (Legg & Roberts 1997: 169-70).

1 As Zaharopoulos (1972: 18) points out, the Armed Forces should indeed be considered a powerful interest group because of its formidable structure and hierarchy, its monopoly on violence and repression as the ‘protector’ of the nation, and its visibility through titles and uniforms. 2 Danopoulos draws his opinion from B. Abrahamsson (1972), Military Professionalization and Political Power (Beverly Hills, CA: Sage), pp. 40-58, and from A. Perlmutter (1977), The Military and Politics in Modern Times (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press). Mouzelis (1978) discusses the changing composition of the army according to the changing dynamics in society. From the time of the schism between Venizelos and King Constantine during WW1 until 1936 when Metaxas came to power, the army had become a major interest group in Greece, though not ‘an autonomous political force’ (ibid., p. 109). By 1936, Greece had experienced rapid industrialisation, urbanisation, the Depression of the early 1930s and had accommodated an influx of refugees from Asia Minor. Suddenly, there appeared to be a ‘real threat from below’; that is, a mass popular base that threatened the traditional economic and political hegemonic structure (ibid., p. 110). Upon Metaxas’s assumption of power with the support of the King, the army became ‘ of the bourgeois system of power against threats from below. […] The army’s major aim became the “containment” of the masses, the task of keeping “the lower strata in their place” ’ (ibid., p. 111).

54 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

While, by the mid-1960s, the communist threat had largely subsided, a number of social, economic and political factors continued to prescribe the Armed Forces’ belief that it was the supreme solution to and salvation from a certain communist insurrection.3 Economic changes in the 1960s had an adverse impact on the lower middle classes—a group that included the majority of officers in the Armed Forces.4 The increasing luxury of the already dominant social groups (Mouzelis 1986: 63) and the relative neglect by the government of rural areas (Close 1993: 224) served to accentuate the already undesirable army lifestyle: it meant a badly paid and isolated life, usually in border patrol in northern Greece.5 When the ASPIDA document was leaked in 1965, and Andreas Papandreou was fingered as an active participant in the organisation, political polarisation once again became evident. On the one hand, supporters of Papandreou and the EK viewed the ASPIDA affair as a further attempt to corrupt Greece’s progress through governmental fraud, manipulation, and unchecked para-state forces. On the other hand, supporters of the King, the army and the Right viewed the allegations as proof of another attempt to corrupt Greece’s progress through left-wing insurgency.6 The fierce debate and political immobilisation which ensued following Papandreou’s resignation and during the King’s employment of ‘salami-

3 Grivas’s leaking of the ASPIDA document and Papadopoulos’s role in sabotaging the petrol tanks of army vehicles and blaming it on the KKE are two examples of just how ‘[the army] benefited from the atmosphere of artificial tensions, most of which it helped create’ (Stavrou 1976: 181). 4 Prior to the 1909 republican coup that brought Venizelos to power, the army recruited from commercial and land-owning ; therefore, military and political elite interests largely overlapped (Mouzelis 1978: 106-7). After 1909, recruitment came from the middle-classes and the peasantry (Zaharopoulos 1972: 20-1). 5 With NATO/US military collaboration, came the Armed Forces’ exposure to other causes of disenchantment: in 1967, a Greek general was paid less than a US sergeant (Clogg 1986: 187). 6 It is not, then, merely a matter of coincidence that during Papandreou’s inaugural year (1964) five members of the junta who were posted together in Thrace began to conceive of their coup (McDonald 1972: 231).

55 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

tactics’ (Zaharopoulos 1972: 28) to form consecutive governments, only served to bring these changes, and their implications, to the fore. A further modernisation of the political system, which would certainly take place should Papandreou be victorious in the March 1967 elections (the expected outcome), meant that the political and, therefore, influential, position of the Centre would change; so too would the influence that the military and para-military establishments in Greece had over the politics of the Nation (Legg 1969: 222). The issue had clearly become one of ‘the political role of the armed forces and the political control over them’ (Wheeler 1967: 232). Greece had reached a point where it was to ‘tilt either on the side of (opening-up of the system to the masses), or on the side of repression’ (Mouzelis 1978: 112). On 21 April 1967, the ‘Colonels’ took it upon themselves to ‘save’ the nation from the former by implementing the latter.

The Background of the Junta The ‘corporatist’ regime of 21 April 1967 was almost entirely an army affair (McDonald 1972: 232).7 It was initiated out of a need to preserve this institution and all it represented: , security, and Hellenic . The ‘obligation’ to preserve such fundamental components of the Greek way of life and to preserve these through structure, order and direct and total rule, were represented not only in the regime’s policies and

7 Danopoulos (1988: 225) distinguishes between ‘personalist’ regimes, whose leaders achieve a high degree of domination (such as Mussolini) and ‘corporatist’ regimes; that is, regimes that are ‘based on collegiality with a group of officers—usually a common background [and whose leader] may enjoy a position of first among equals, and later could emerge as the dominant figure’. (Danopoulos draws his definitions from C. E. Welch, ‘Personalism and in African Armies’, in: C. McArdle Kelleher (1974) (ed.), Military Systems: Comparative Perspectives (Beverly Hills, CA.: Sage), pp. 131-5.) Other authors (Bermeo 1995: 443; Danopoulos 1992b: 45; and Xydis 1974: 509), however, point out that the corporatist nature of the regime did not detract Papadopoulos, or later Ioannidis, from seeking to transform it into a ‘personalist’ one. At the very least, the junta achieved an ‘air of a highly personalistic government’ (Bermeo 1995: 443).

56 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

decrees, but also, as shall become evident in the subsequent parts of this thesis, in Papadopoulos’s lexical and figurative choices. The junta was organised and led by the Colonel Georgios Papadopoulos, Colonel and Brigadier . Papadopoulos became an officer during the Albanian campaign of 1940-1 and then fought against the communists in the later part of the Civil War (Close 2002: 109). Pattakos fought in Albania on horseback and, prior to fighting against the communists in the Civil War, he gathered intelligence during the Occupation (Stockton 1971: 2-3). In 1951, both Papadopoulos and Makarezos served as instructors in the School of Artillery (Woodhouse 1985a: 8).8 Papadopoulos joined KYP in the 1950s and became Chief of and Counter-Intelligence prior to commanding an artillery unit of his own. As has been noted, he played a key organisational role in implementing the Pericles Plan in the 1961 elections and, in late 1965, was appointed to a key post near Athens by the Chief of the General Staff, Spandidakis. In 1966 he became Chief of Operations to General Army Staff (Close 2002: 110)—a strategic position that would serve him well a year later. The other key members in the planning and implementation of the coup were a collection of officers of diverse assignments but of shared background. Among them: Constantine Aslanidis, Dimitrios Ioannidis, Ioannis Ladas and Constantine Papadopoulos—Georgios’s brother.9 All initial members of the coup would hold varying positions of power

8 Woodhouse (1985a: 8) touches upon two additional details about their time as artillery instructors. Firstly, they served alongside A. Papaterpos, who later refused an invitation to join IDEA and, consequently, was fingered in 1965 as the ringleader in the ASPIDA affair. Secondly, they served under Odysseus Angelis, who, by 1967, had become Deputy Chief of the General Staff. Angelis, though superior to Papadopoulos in rank, was to become Papadopoulos’s right-hand man during the dictatorship. 9 This appraisal of the coup’s initial membership is taken from McDonald (1990: 261-2) who collates his information from Aslanidis’s testimony at the trials that ensued after the dictatorship collapsed in 1974.

57 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

throughout its 7-year duration and would become its inner executive circle known as the ‘Revolutionary Group’. With few exceptions, all members of self-proclaimed ‘Revolution of 21 April 1967’ were from humble origins, from either villages or towns. As Kollias, their nominated Prime Minister, stated at his inauguration, the members of the ‘Revolution’ represented ‘the class of toil’ and, therefore, ‘stand on the side of [their] poor Greek brothers’. They all graduated from the between 1937 and 1943—i.e., under Metaxas’s ‘Third Hellenic Civilisation’ or under foreign occupation—and, with the exception of Pattakos, had all done so in either the or the artillery (McDonald 1972: 232, fn. 3; Woodhouse 1985a: 7-9; Zaharopoulos 1972: 30-2).10 Having fought against ELAS and, later, the DSE during the Civil War they were all staunch anti-communists.11 After the war, they all became members of the right-wing nationalistic groups IDEA, National Union of Young Greek Officers (EENA, Εθνική Ένωσις Νέων Αξιωµατικών) or of both (Close 1993: 223; Woodhouse 1985a: 7-9). Considering their shared background, it is apt that they wished to propound their image ‘as simple patriots crusading against Communism’ (Wheeler 1968: 6). While this shared background and collegiality enhanced the corporatist nature of the regime, by the end of its first year, Papadopoulos was its undisputed leader.

10 Makarezos and Papadopoulos graduated from Officer School in 1940 in the top three of their class (Woodhouse 1985a: 8; Zaharopoulos 1972: 33; McDonald 1972: 232 fn. 3; Stockton 1971: 3). 11 Pattakos noted shortly after the coup that the memories that stood out above all others in his long career were those of ‘the atrocities we had during the civil war here in Athens in December’ (McDonald 1972: 230). As most junta members shared the same background, the communist fighting (the ‘’), 30 years later, was still very prominent in mind, and, as will be discussed, also in rhetoric.

58 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

The First Phase (21 April 1967-28 September 1968): ‘The National Salvation’

No other way of salvation remained other than our Army’s intervention. This intervention certainly constitutes a Constitutional deviation, but this deviation was imperative for the salvation of the Fatherland. The salvation of the Fatherland is the supreme Law. […] This is why the Army intervened. To intercept the march toward catastrophe, a step toward the abyss. […] The Premier and the members of the Government were enlisted for the execution of duty toward the Fatherland (Kollias’s inaugural speech).

In the early morning of 21 April 1967, a small group of predominantly middle-ranking officers controlling armoured units surrounded the King’s home and took control of the major defence centres, central telecommunications and broadcasting exchanges in Athens. By 6:00am, the Chief of General Staff, Spandidakis, had approved the use of the Prometheus Plan and it had been put into effect (McNeill 1978 120; Woodhouse 1985a: 25). The Prometheus Plan was developed as a NATO counter-insurgency plan to mobilise the army, the police and reserves ‘in case of a state of war or of mobilization in consequence of external dangers or of serious disorders or of a manifest threat to public order and the security of the country emanating from internal dangers’ (Wheeler 1967: 239). The enactment of Prometheus benefited the junta in two ways. Firstly, it legalised the securing of all of Greece’s borders, airports and ports; the occupation of governmental buildings, banks, the Stock Exchange and communication centres; and the arrest of potential dissidents (McDonald 1972: 331). In short, it allowed for any security measure necessary to quash an external or internal danger. Secondly, because the plan was attached to NATO, its legitimacy extended beyond

59 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

Greece’s borders and foreign approval, at least from NATO partners, could be assumed (Woodhouse 1985a: 12). Once the declaration of Prometheus had secured the initial military usurpation, the declaration of Martial Law extended it. That morning a radio broadcast decreed—purportedly on behalf of the King—that the emergency law on the ‘state of siege’ (Law 4069/∆ΞΘ, Oct. 1912) was to be evoked and that, consequently, 11 articles of the constitution were to be immediately suspended. The ‘royal’ validation (Decree 280/Alfa, 21 Apr. 1967) legalised continued military authority over arrest, incarceration and trial without time restriction and afforded the military supreme power over searching private homes (including private correspondence), public buildings and political services during the day or night. It prohibited strikes and elections of any association ‘aspiring to unionist or political aims’, private or public gatherings of any kind without prior approval, and completely censored all broadcasts. Although the execution of the coup was ‘highly skilled’ (Woodhouse 1985a: 22), questions remained as to how the power was to be divided once it was gained. The ‘Revolution’ chose as its initial Prime Minister a civilian: Konstantinos Kollias—the ultimate representation of legality with his background as Senior Public Prosecutor for the Supreme Court. The triumvirate assumed key posts: Papadopoulos became Minister to the Prime Minister and was, therefore, directly responsible for the press, the civil service and KYP; Makarezos, with his background in political economy and his history as a military attaché at the embassy in Bonn, Germany, became Minister of Coordination (Stockton 1971: 3; Woodhouse 1985a: 8; Zaharopoulos 1972: 33); and Pattakos became Minister of the Interior. Concessions were made to pacify the King and to secure approval from abroad, particularly from the USA: P. Oikonomou-Gouras, an ex- ambassador, was made Foreign Minister and P. Totomis, an ex-employee of the Greek-American entrepreneur Tom Pappas, became Minister of

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Public Order (Woodhouse 1985a: 31; Xydis 1972: 197). Spandidakis, whose signing of Prometheus was instrumental to the successful execution of the coup, was made Deputy Prime Minister and Minister of Defence (Digaves 1986: 33-4).12 The majority of other ministerial positions went to civilians, predominantly from the legal professions; however, these ministers simply ‘performed administrative functions and observed public formalities’ (McDonald 1972: 233) while policies were dictated by the ‘Revolutionary Group’ who continued to hold low-profile posts as mostly secretary-generals (McDonald 1972: 232-3; McDonald 1990: 263; Woodhouse 1985a: 22). As Papadopoulos pointed out at a press conference a month after the coup (1968a: 42),13 the importance of these initial measures ‘legitimated’ the junta’s usurping of power, both at home and abroad – militarily, through the initiation of Prometheus, and, constitutionally, through the enactment of Martial Law, the King’s tacit acceptance, and through its first predominantly civilian cabinet headed by a man of the highest legal calibre. This legitimacy was to be sustained through a continual stream of constituent acts and decrees. These enforced ‘legal’ and ‘constitutional’ measures sought to achieve the overriding aim of the ‘Revolution’: a renewed ‘Helleno-Christian’ Greece with individuals that had a rejuvenated ‘obligation for the social whole’ and a ‘disciplined Greek spirit’; that is, a contained and controlled population embodying junta-defined characteristics—characteristics that Papadopoulos continues to outline in his rhetoric. For example, from 27 April, bans were enforced on the by then popular mini-skirt and on long and beards on men. Students were

12 Unless otherwise noted, all subsequent references to ministerial and/or undersecretarial positions in the ensuing cabinets of the dictatorship are taken from Digaves (1986: 33-44). For the composition of the initial junta cabinet see also Woodhouse (1985a: 30-1). 13 Citations that appear without the author’s name refer to one of the eight volumes of Papadopoulos’s Το Πιστεύω Μας (‘Our Creed’, Το Pistevo Mas).

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ordered to attend church services regularly on Sundays. People travelling on buses and trolleys were to enter from the rear and exit from the front (Legg 1969: 236; Schwab & Frangos 1970: 20). No doubt deemed anarchic, the traditional glassware breaking at public or private celebrations was banned. Unsealed garbage bins were prohibited. Indecent pictures outside cinemas were kept closely in check by police (Legg 1969: 237-8). Music by Russian composers and works by the Greek communist composer Theodorakis were prohibited for their ‘anti-national content’ (Papadopoulos 1968a: 44). Educational curriculum and literature was revamped. At the expense of technical and vocational subjects, the curriculum emphasised antiquity and religion ‘based on the ideals of Helleno-Christian civilisation’ (Law 129/A, 25 Sept. 1967, art. 1). Educational reforms that had been undertaken by Papandreou were reversed: demotic, the spoken —for decades considered part of ‘a pan-Slavist plot to break up the unified Greek language into dialects, thus weakening the bonds between Greeks’ (Mackridge 1990: 31)—was officially replaced by katharevousa. Katharevousa was legislated as the official language of all oral and written work of both teachers and students at the upper levels of schooling and tertiary education (Law 129/A, 25 Sept. 1967, art. 5).14 Though education and schoolbooks were free in the public sector (art. 4), compulsory years of education were lowered from nine to six years (art. 2). Such formalistic changes to education were anachronistic and created ‘serious obstacles to Greece’s economic development’ (Legg 1969: 236).15

14 The 1973 pamphlet National Language harked back to the argument of a communist link to the use of demotic (Mackridge 1990: 37). If one takes into account that during the Civil War each resistant group (including EDES) favoured demotic, then this argument holds some sway; particularly if one recalls that, in 1944, EAM announced that demotic would constitute the language of legislation, education, and governmental administration once liberation was achieved (ibid.). 15 Mouzelis (1978: 136-7) discusses formalistic characteristics in policies as a direct result of Greece’s underdevelopment. He argues that formalistic policies are evoked in order to

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The need for the regime to contain the population and control it was paramount not only to its initial success but, importantly, to its longevity. Building on already present laws16 and announcing new decrees, the regime was able to find a more effective way of controlling information: total censorship was immediate. By May 1967, five Athenian newspapers had been shut down and others stopped publishing in protest.17 Many journalists belonging to the Union of Journalists were detained, harassed and/or stripped of their privileges (ibid., p. 233). The remaining newspapers and press authorities were subjected to a strict censorship and, in addition to publishing as the government dictated, they were required to submit their articles in advance to a junta- patrolled board: the Press Control Service. This board ‘dictated news copy, editorials and pictures, together with their headlines, captions and placement on the page’ (McDonald 1990: 265).18 With the exception of the Cypriot press, foreign newspapers were allowed to circulate unaffected—a loophole that benefited both the Greek press and the junta. It meant that the Greek press could report on the situation in Greece indirectly by quoting the content of articles in publications abroad,19 and, correspondingly, it awarded the regime an advantage: travellers to Greece prevent ‘the autonomous expression and articulation of working-class interests in the political process’ (ibid., p. 144). He continues:

[Formalism] can be seen as an effective politico-ideological weapon with the help of which the ruling classes, in a more or less conscious manner, try to keep the masses ‘in their place’ (ibid., p. 147). 16 In 1931, a ‘yellow press’ law was enacted prohibiting journalists from ‘defaming’ the character of politicians (Dimakis 1977: 228-9). A new press law on 17 October 1947 banned communist and leftist orientated newspapers, even though, at that stage, there were but a few (ibid., pp. 231 and 312, fn. 90). 17 For a personal account of one such decision to close down a newspaper and the editor- in-chief’s subsequent experiences in exile during the first years of the dictatorship, see Vlachou (1970). 18 McDonald (1983: 107-8) gives an overview of the Press Control Service and translates the ministerial decision of 29 April 1967 outlining its rules and regulations (pp. 210-16). 19 It should be noted, however, that anti-dictatorship reporting in foreign newspapers was also patrolled by the Press Control Service, though less stringently, and, as with the case of , severe consequences for both editors and journalists would follow (Woodhouse 1985a: 36).

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would note that foreign publications were readily available and would incorrectly assume that censorship was, therefore, non-existent in the nation (McDonald 1983: 52 fn. 2). Though the press law, in theory, would change throughout the dictatorship, a strict military censorship remained and sporadic decrees raising taxes ensured that control was always in the hands of the regime.20 Censorship extended to literary works with perceived left-wing content. A list of 760 books was published and circulated in a forbidden index including classical drama, comedies and tragedies, and foreign works (McDonald 1990: 265; Woodhouse 1991: 291); however, the regime’s picking and choosing of what would be censored was largely arbitrary and inconsistent.21 Containment of the population was also enforced by closing down and seizing political party and property. Utilising pre-existing legislation (enacted for the purpose of outlawing the KKE), the EDA was outlawed a week after the coup usurped power and its property and archives were seized. Over the next few months, its archives were published in newspapers in order to ‘prove’ to the public the existence of a communist threat. Trade unions and organisations that were not part of the government-controlled federation suffered the same fate: hundreds of organisations purported to have liberal or left-wing undercurrents were dissolved and their property was confiscated (McDonald 1990: 265).22 Politicians and prominent authorities of the Centre and of the Left were immediately detained. The majority of those of the Centre were eventually released; however, they remained either under house arrest or

20 For a thorough examination of the press during the dictatorship, see McDonald (1983). 21 One example of its arbitrariness was when, on 8 August 1969, a performance of Electra was cancelled because some of the costumes were deemed ‘unGreek’ (Schwab & Frangos 1970: 111). 22 These organisations, though predominantly trade unions, included the Lambrakis Youth Organisation and unrelated groups such as the Bertrand Russell Association (Schwab & Frangos 1970: 23).

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under watchful eyes.23 Those of the Left whose international ties or recognition were not as prominent (such as the leader of the EDA, Ilias Iliou, and , the man who symbolically tore down the Nazi flag from the Acropolis during the Occupation) sustained lengthy and brutal treatment in incarceration centres (Woodhouse 1985a: 33). Others, who were more internationally recognised, such as Theodorakis or Andreas Papandreou, were respectively sent into internal exile or kept in comparatively good conditions in jail, prior to their release.24 With this dramatic increase in detentions and trials (Woodhouse 1991: 291), detention camps on the barren islands of Yiaros and , which were created and used during the Civil War, were promptly re-opened and filled with thousands of alleged communist or left-wing detainees (Amnesty 1977: 10). Thousands more were housed in temporary incarceration centres in Athens (McDonald 1990: 264).25 Relatives inquiring after detainees would be sent in circles and generally, got nowhere. Purging of all sectors was vehemently undertaken. Citizens whose allegiance to the regime was in doubt were promptly replaced with citizens whose loyalty to the regime could be secured. In Papadopoulos’s view, such ‘cleansing’ was needed if Greece was to be ‘reborn’. In the education sector, particularly at the tertiary level, close to 60 professors and associate professors were dismissed (Woodhouse 1985a:

23 During the dictatorship, George Papandreou remained under house arrest until his death. 24 Andreas Papandreou was released from prison in the general amnesty of 1967-8 and he went into self-imposed exile in . Here he formed the Panhellenic Liberation Movement (PAK, Πανελληνική Απελευθερωτική Κίνηση): the predecessor to his post- dictatorship political party, the Panhellenic Socialist Movement (PASOK, Πανελληνικό Σοσιαλιστικό Κίνηµα). For a personal account of Andreas Papandreou’s conditions see his autobiography (1973: 287-310). While Theodorakis was also granted amnesty at the turn of the first year, he spent the great proportion of the next two years incarcerated in various isolation camps. In April 1970, he was released and he immediately left Greece. For the remaining years of the dictatorship, he settled in where he became an active opponent of the regime. For a personal account of these years, see Theodorakis (1973). 25 Of these incarceration centres in Athens, Lakki was the largest (Schwab & Frangos 1970: 111).

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34). Safeguards were put in place to keep a watchful eye on any future activity. These included political tests for entry to the tertiary level (Clogg 1986: 189); new legislation (Law 40/A, 21 June 1967, art. 4) providing that, in addition to academic requirements, admissions into higher education sectors would be dependent on candidates with ‘high convictions, irreproachable morals and character’; and government watchdogs enlisted to monitor both teachers and students. The ‘cleansing’ of the civil service began immediately and dismissals occurred in the thousands (Danopoulos 1988: 226; Legg 1969: 237). All remaining civil servants had to declare their loyalty in a written statement proving their ‘civic-mindedness’ or face dismissal or jail. In these first six months, while their ‘loyalty’ was being ascertained, their tenure was suspended (ibid.). The same fate awaited the judiciary and the legal sector. The was reorganised in early May and its ruling body, the Holy Synod, was replaced with a junta-appointed one. The head of the Greek Church, Archbishop Chrisostomos, was retired and replaced with Ieronymos Kotsonis, the former of the King and a professor of canon law at the University of Thessaloniki (Frazee 1977: 148).26 Archbishop Ieronymos had close ties with Papadopoulos’s regime (McDonald 1990: 300) and after his appointment was secured, the purging of ecclesiasts was undertaken on a larger scale. The ‘retirement’ of hundreds of senior officers in the Armed Forces paved the way for 800 new promotions for junior officers who would remain loyal to the regime (Danopoulos 1992b: 42; McNeill 1978: 127; Woodhouse 1985a: 34; Woodhouse 1991: 292). The post-Civil War bottleneck in promotions had led to many professional grievances within

26 In his article, Frazee (1977) outlines the course of the church from Greek Independence, pointing out that throughout history the choosing of bishops and archbishops has always been subject to governmental allegiances and clientage ties. This practice continued throughout the dictatorship and when Papadopoulos was ousted in November 1973, Ieronymos was replaced by Seraphim Tikas, a more ‘loyal’ subject of the new regime (ibid., pp. 150-1; McDonald 1990: 300).

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the Armed Forces – grievances that the junta used to their advantage. Army officers who viewed allegiance to the regime as a means to career advancement were duly rewarded.27 The purging of one third of army officers on active duty (Close 1993: 224) would accelerate after the King’s failed counter-coup in December 1967 and the devastating repercussions of the ‘cleansing’ of Greece’s most senior officers would become particularly significant in the events that were to unfold in Cyprus in July 1974. The junta’s thoroughness and efficiency in impeding any mass-based opposition was made possible through its extensive and systematic network of informers in all sectors of the community and administration. Commissions loyal to the regime were set up to monitor the conduct of teachers and students, and retired officers would act as watchdogs and spies, monitoring civil servants (Danopoulos 1988: 226, 227). The main agencies of containment were all official: KYP continued to collate information on potential subversives—the Maniadakis files once again being used to great advantage. The National Security Service (Ασφάλεια) and the Greek (ESA, Ελληνική Στρατιωτική Αστυνοµία) were in charge of rounding up suspects and, through any means possible, extracting information from them and ‘deterring’ them from any possible future activity.28 In addition to this, military courts, which were quickly established in the major cities, largely replaced civilian ones.

27 The purging of the officer corps and the promotion of those deemed loyal to the government in power was a practice that had continued unceasingly in Greece since Venizelos came to power again in 1917 (Papacosma 1977: 178-82). Additionally, one should also consider that the downsizing of the army post-Civil War necessitated a stronger reliance on patron/client ties, rather than merit, for promotions (Veremis 1997: 154). 28 The ESA had the additional support of the Department of Specialised Examination (EAT, Ειδικόν Ανακριτήριον Τµήµα), the Military Police’s Educational Centre (KESA, Κέντρον Εκπαιδεύσεως Στρατιωτικής Αστυνοµίας) and the —whose tactical formation was credited to Papadopoulos’s brother, Constantine (Stockton 1971: 81; Woodhouse 1985a: 38). Their extensive training and indoctrination programme is discussed by Daraki-Mallet (1976, especially, pp. 89-145).

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Those that remained incarcerated sustained constant and brutal torture. Detainees would be beaten and forced to stand for days in cells, without food or drink, and without being allowed to shower or change for weeks.29 Prisoners who were to be released were forced to sign declarations of loyalty to the regime that proved their ‘civic-mindedness’ (εθνικοφροσύνη). Subsequently, these declarations would be published in local papers. As was previously examined, such declarations had been used for decades by previous governments; however, under the dictatorship, these were ‘more detailed and more coercively self- incriminating’ (McDonald 1990: 265).30 These forced recantations and signed declarations alone halved the numbers in custody in the first three months (ibid., p. 264). The regime, attempting to identify itself with its ‘poor Greek brothers’ in the hope of building and securing a support base, undertook a number of popular measures. Prices were fixed. Applications for loans that in the past would have been turned down were now approved (Xydis 1974: 511). Pensions were increased.31 The regime, targeting those who, in the past, had forgotten ‘their fundamental national and social duty of contributing toward the public burden’ (Ministry of Finance 1970: 23), was particularly

29 Amnesty (1977, especially, pp. 15-20, 79-82) gives a detailed report of the ESA’s torture techniques, noting the consistency in its use of torture methods. Among the 22 different methods of torture that were documented, the most commonly used was falanga: the constant beating of the soles of the feet interspersed with long periods of standing and walking (ibid., p. 11; YECHR 1972a: 499-500). Victims who sustained serious injuries from prolific beatings would be transferred to the Military Hospital 401 (usually the neurological ward) under pseudonyms (Amnesty 1977: 19). According to Amnesty’s findings, the purpose of torture changed: in the first few years (1967-71), torture was used to extract information and deter further subversive activity; in the last few years (1971-4), it was used solely for the purpose of intimidation and instilling terror. For the official report on torture and maltreatment in Greece, see YECHR (1972a: 186-510). 30 Recanters had to renounce their affiliation with Leftist organisations and acknowledge that such an affiliation was equivalent to ‘the mutilation and enslavement of the country to the Slavo-Communist camp and the removal of the Greek people from Helleno- Christian ideals’ (Amnesty 1977: 10). Samatas (1986, especially, pp. 32-6) discusses these recantations through the official declassification process (αποχρωµατισµός, literally ‘discolouration’) born out of the Civil War. 31 Old age pensions for rural workers would be raised by 70% (Legg 1969: 241).

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harsh on tax evasion. This was complemented by a massive rise in income tax during its first fiscal year (McNeill 1978: 124; Ministry of Finance 1970: 11-12).32 Funds for public amenities were allocated to some refugee settlements in the Greater Athens area (Legg & Roberts 1997: 84) and a new programme of low-cost housing was initiated in an attempt to benefit (and pacify) industrial workers (Xydis 1974: 511). Officers’ pay and pensions were increased and they had the added advantage of low interest loans for cars and homes. Retired army officers loyal to the regime were able to find jobs easily in government, banking or public enterprises (ibid.). The redistribution of municipal land to landless farmers was stressed, even though, in reality, there were few landless farmers and the majority of public land was not owned by municipalities but by the state itself (Legg 1969: 240-1). In a quest for a ‘democratic’ legitimacy, the King, acting as the official junta spokesman, announced the introduction of a new constitution on 23 May 1967. By the end of June 1967, the first constitutional committee meeting had taken place under Harilaos Mitrelias, the former head of the State Council – the highest court in Greece (McDonald 1990: 267; Woodhouse 1985a: 35). Resistance activity was fragmented at best and further exacerbated by the KKE inter-party split. The communists, historically the forerunners in clandestine organisation, were otherwise occupied in a dispute about the party’s future doctrine; that is, one that was loyal to the Soviet type of communism or one that would pursue a communism that was dominant in Europe.33

32 According to the Ministry of Finance (1970: 43) direct taxation in 1969 accounted for 18.5% of the total tax revenue. By 1974, however, direct taxation accounted for 46.2% of the total tax revenue (Legg & Roberts 1997: 187). 33 This split was finalised after the Soviet intervention in in 1968, and the KKE separated into two parties: the KKE-Interior (loyal to Europe) and the KKE-Exterior (loyal to the Soviet) (Woodhouse 1985a: 37; Xydis 1974: 525 fn. 30).

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Some collective groups did form early on: the Greek Democratic Movement of Resistance (EDKA, Ελληνική ∆ηµοκρατική Κίνησις Αντιστάσεως), made up chiefly of Andreas Papandreou supporters (Woodhouse 1985a: 37-8); the Anti-Dictatorship Workers’ Front (AEM, Αντιδικτατορικό Εργατικό Μέτωπο), formed by the left-wing trade unionist Tasos Dimou (ibid., p. 38); the Patriotic Front (PAM, Πατριωτικό Αντιδικτατορικό Μέτωπο), whose leader was Theodorakis; and the Democratic Defence (DA, ∆ηµοκρατική Άµυνα), which formed in May of largely EK members (ibid.) and was transformed into a resistance group in autumn (McDonald 1990: 266). Their resistance activity, which included graffiti and the sporadic distribution of leaflets, news bulletins, and illegal newspapers, did little to increase opposition at the initial stages. These groups were quickly infiltrated, their members facing long jail sentences or revoked citizenships (McDonald 1990: 265-6; Schwab & Frangos 1970: 36; Woodhouse 1985a: 38). With the exception of PAM and DA, all hastily formed resistance groups were immediately dispersed by the junta’s far- reaching and effective security network. Toward the end of 1967, prominent Greek political figures such as Kanellopoulos and Karamanlis, and institutions such as the International Press Institute, also began to denounce the situation in Greece and call for the immediate restoration of parliamentary rule and fundamental freedoms (Woodhouse 1985a: 39-40).34 There were rumblings within the British Labour Party for the expulsion of Greece from the European Common Market, NATO and the Council of Europe until a ‘viable and proper democracy’ was restored (Schwab & Frangos 1970: 32-3; Woodhouse

34 The King’s non-compliance became apparent when, on a trip to Canada and the USA in September, he was asked by a senate committee about the future plans of his government. His most brisk reply of ‘it is not my Government’ was a blow to the regime, which up until that point had relied quite heavily on the King’s acquiescence for international approval. Woodhouse (1985a: 34-5, 39) notes the importance of the King as one who aided in the junta’s legitimation through his initial acquiescence and his official role as the ‘mouthpiece’ of junta policy. cf. Katris (1974: 338) and Wheeler (1967: 238).

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1985a: 39-40). The first truly significant objection, however, was heard at the Council of Europe in September 1967 when , , and The charged Greece with a violation of eight articles dealing with (YECHR 1969: 586-92).35 Save for these exceptions, international governments and defence institutions remained largely acquiescent and preliminary actions that were taken were eventually reversed. For example, the USA reacted by placing an embargo on military equipment with which it had been previously supplying Greece; however, as will be discussed, motivated by geopolitical concerns in the region, this embargo eventually disappeared and implicit and explicit support followed. Initially, the EEC suspended negotiations concerning the future development of Greece’s association (particularly in regards to the harmonising of agricultural policies) and decided to cease current and subsequent loans that would contribute to Greece furthering the development of this association (Fawcett 1970: 226; Xydis 1974: 519). These applied sanctions, as will be discussed, did not impact substantially on the Treaty of Association, and customs and tariff provisions continued as normal (Fawcett 1970: 226; Woodhouse 1985a: 40). Greece’s relationship with NATO—which was, as previously discussed, largely responsible for fostering the messianic/anticommunist mentality within the Armed Forces—did not falter; in fact, during that summer, Greece enjoyed an official visit from the NATO commander in Europe (Clogg 1986: 193). NATO considerations quickly dominated when a series of renewed Greek-Turkish talks over Cyprus proved once again to be abortive. A meeting in the Evros region on 9 September cemented the impasse: the Greek side, headed by Papadopoulos (ibid., p. 194), insisted on enosis; the

35 By November, reports of torture under the junta had reached abroad. Following an Amnesty investigation in December 1967 and a series of reports in January and (Amnesty 1977: 11), the Council of Europe charge was amended to include allegations of torture and maltreatment of political prisoners and admitted in May 1968 (YECHR, 1970: 730-80).

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Turkish side insisted on taksim or absolute reversion to the 1959 Treaty of Guarantee. The Turks were supported by the Soviets who, like their opponent in the Cold War, were motivated by geopolitical considerations: each side of the wished to secure a position in the Mediterranean (Woodhouse 1985a: 41). By mid-November, Cyprus had, once again, erupted in inter-communal fighting; this time, precipitated by Grivas’s reprisals on the Turkish minority of the island. A confrontation between Greece and Turkey appeared imminent; however, UN/NATO diplomatic talks would again diffuse the threat. The US/NATO intervention a week later prevented the impeding mobilisation and resulted in the recalling of Grivas and the withdrawal of almost 10,000 illegally stationed Greek and Turkish troops (Schwab & Frangos 1970: 38, 41-2). Additionally, the balance of forces favoured Turkey and there was no guarantee that, at this early stage of the dictatorship, the whole of the Greek military forces would support the regime’s action (ibid., p. 42). Believing that the officer corps was otherwise occupied with the situation in Cyprus, the King and a handful of loyal political figures and officers in the navy decided to initiate their counter-coup. On 13 December, the King, broadcasting over a low frequency, called the Greek people to revolt against the current rulers. By evening, the poorly organised and exceptionally ill-executed plan had failed and the King, his family and Prime Minister Kollias were on a plane out of Greece.36 With the King gone, the ‘Colonels’ were finally able to ‘throw off their masks [and] formally seize the highest offices in the state’ (Meletopoulos 1996: 33). Ridding themselves of military rank (Efimeris tis Kyverniseos/Γ 20 Dec. 1967, iss. 460), the triumvirate attempted, this time completely, to

36 Woodhouse (1985a: 43-8) gives a concise yet detailed account of the organisation and implementation of the King’s ill-fated counter-coup. cf. Stockton (1971: 53-78), who collates his account from articles that were published in the pro-junta newspaper Eleftheros Kosmos from 20 October–15 November 1969.

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show that they were indeed ‘democratic’ rulers of the non-military kind.37 With few exceptions, the composition of the junta remained largely unchanged. Zoitakis was royally rewarded (pun intended) for his help in the preparation and execution of the ‘21 ’ and was promoted from Undersecretary of Defence to Regent.38 Pattakos, who retained his position as Minister for the Interior, assumed the Deputy Prime Ministership as well. General Angelis became Chief of the Defence Staff (‘Athenian’ 1972: 66). Papadopoulos—who retained his post as Minister to the Prime Minister—became Prime Minister and, retiring Spandidakis, Minister of Defence. Over the next five years, Papadopoulos was to assume every major role within his continuously re-shuffled cabinets, and importantly, create positions within new constitutions that hoped to secure his rule and his power’s longevity. As the King’s initial legitimation of the coup added credence to its existence, it was imperative that now, even though he was no longer there in flesh, he remain in name. Greece’s ‘Crowned Democracy’ remained intact, and because the King and the Prime Minister were said to have ‘abstained from their duties’ (Papadopoulos 1968a: 94), the regime now had the justification to rule completely. Moving quickly to solidify its ‘democratic’ rule, and ‘legalise’ its policies, the regime published an outline for a new constitution in , and ‘encouraged’ the public to participate in discussion about its content.

37 McDonald (1972: 233) notes that this move not only represented ‘the most fundamental change in the nature of the junta’ but also helped solve the problem of Generals having to serve Colonels within the military hierarchy. Conversely, when Gizikis usurped the Presidency in November 1973 the same problem was solved by promoting him to General (Efimeris tis Kyverniseos/A 26 Nov. 1973, iss. 315). 38 According to Aslanidis’s testimony at his trial in 1975, Zoitakis acted as a liaison between Papadopoulos and the General Army Staff (McDonald 1990: 262; Woodhouse 1985a: 21-2). He was instrumental to the inception of the coup as, in addition to leading some of the most powerful units in the army, he apprised the junta of the generals’ decision on the evening of 20 April for the postponement of the elections for security reasons. Because of this information, the triumvirate acted pre-emptively the following morning.

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The 1968 Constitution (Efimeris tis Kyverniseos/A 15 Nov. 1968, iss. 267) provided for two new bodies, which would oversee all changes in parliament and had the power to ban parties or politicians whose ‘aims or activity were overtly or covertly opposed to the system of government’ (art. 58, paras 4-6).39 The King’s role became chiefly representational as his powers concerning both politics (arts. 25, 42-6) and the Armed Forces (art. 49) were greatly diminished. Importantly, unless the government declared otherwise (art. 134, para. 1), the King would only be allowed to return for the first parliamentary elections—the date of which would be determined by the National Revolutionary Government (art. 135). Conversely, the Armed Forces’ power was greatly increased. Not only was it placed in charge of promotions, retirements, transfers and assignments (art. 131, para. 3), but, constitutionally, it was autonomous in ‘safeguarding’ social and political order from either external or internal enemies (art. 130). Thus, ‘the historic extra-parliamentary function of the armed forces’ was legalised (Papacosma 1977: 184-5). In the final revision of the 1968 Constitution, 12 articles were withheld (art. 138). These dealt with fundamental human rights, , the King’s position within the , political party and trade union formation, elections, and the criminal trial process. Gradually, some of these articles were reintroduced; however, by that time, other checks had been put into place to assure that control was still firmly in regime hands.

39 A special proviso seems to have been added especially to curb the octogenarian Papandreou’s family from any future participation in politics: any citizen that had been convicted of the aforementioned crime could not enter politics (art. 61, para. 2στ; art. 88, para. 3).

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Second Phase (29 September 1968-23 May 1973): ‘The Constitutional and Democratic Foundation’

Η Επανάστασις της 21ης Απριλίου—η ιστορικώς αναγκαία, η πρακτικώς νοµιµοποιηµένη από της επικρατήσεώς της και η δηµοκρατικώς καθιερωµένη από χθες—εισέρχεται τώρα εις την δευτέραν φάσιν της: Την εντός των πλαισίων του νέου Συντάγµατος διακυβέρνησιν της χώρας, έως ότου εξασφαλισθή αρτία, πλήρης και αποδοτική λειτουργία όλων των θεσµών (1969a: 84).

The Revolution of 21st April, which was historically necessary, the practically legitimised by its success and democratically ratified from yesterday, is now entering its second phase: The governing of the country within the framework of the new Constitution until the proper, complete and productive functioning of all institutions is secured.

The referendum on the new Constitution on 29 September 1968 returned a ‘yes’ vote of 92%—a result achieved under highly questionable conditions. The general amnesty that was announced prior to the referendum was negated by the still current application of Martial Law. Voting was compulsory, though only for those aged between 21 and 70 and those living within 300 miles of a voting district (Schwab & Frangos 1970: 68). The ‘healthy debate’ that preceded the referendum consisted of an influx of ‘yes’ vote propaganda. Furthermore, during the referendum, there were reports of citizens being supplied with only a ‘yes’ vote: the inference here being that if they wished to vote ‘no’ they would have to approach a police guard and request a ‘no’ ballot, thereby exposing themselves and their family to future persecution. Nevertheless, as Papadopoulos (1969a: 84) exalted in a victory speech, ‘the vote for the Constitution means the vote for the Revolution’. Though some articles were held in abeyance, the

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new Constitution came into effect on 15 November 1968 and the junta continued to rule undisrupted. By 1969, a steady stream of foreign reports on the situation in Greece escalated international criticism of the regime. The International Labour Organisation (ILO) set up a commission on 6 under Lord Devlin to examine complaints about the Greek government’s policies toward trade unions (Xydis 1974: 519).40 Most significantly, however, this continued stream of allegations against the dictatorship lead to decisive moves within the Council of Europe. On 18 November 1969, a lengthy report, which compounded a 1.5- year investigation headed by Dr. Max van der Stoel, was submitted to the Council by the of Human Rights. It concluded that the ‘communist’ justification for the coup could not be proven (YECHR 1972a: para. 165). In fact, it found evidence to indicate that ‘it was neither planned at that time, nor seriously anticipated by either the military or police authorities’ (para. 159), and that, therefore, the ‘state of siege’ continued unjustifiably (para. 207). Importantly, it stated that the Greek government had violated eight articles of the convention including the right to trial, and association, the right to privacy and freedom of expression. Concerning the allegations of torture and/or maltreatment of prisoners (art. 3), it established that not only was such torture officially practised, but it was also officially tolerated (YECHR 1972a: 501-5).41

40 The Devlin Commission found that though initially the junta’s usurping had severe consequences only for trade unions that were deemed communist, eventually the regime had attempted to control them all. In addition to this, new legislation regarding trade unions did not adhere to internationally acceptable standards (Xydis 1974: 519). Subsequently, the commission recommended that new legislative decrees come into force immediately and that be full restored. By June 1972, Greece has still not complied with the ILO recommendations (ibid., pp. 519-20). 41 There were 213 separate allegations of torture or ill-treatment at the hands of the Greek authorities that were submitted. These are listed individually in the YECHR (1972a: 519- 649). For the Council’s official report on allegations of torture, see pp. 186-510.

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Greece was left with little choice: it could withdraw from the Council or face certain expulsion. Deciding on the former, it termed the Council’s motivations ‘political’ and their procedures ‘most unacceptable and intolerable’. It denounced the Statute of the Council of Europe and the Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms on 12 December 1969 (YECHR, 1971: 78-84). Greece’s withdrawal from the Council of Europe had a limited effect on its relationship with nations abroad—Greece’s membership in the UN, NATO and the EEC was maintained. Britain, concerned with matters of defence, had renewed its relationship with Greece at the end of January 1968 (Schwab & Frangos 1970: 48). Similarly, the USA’s geopolitical concern in the Mediterranean—particularly after the outbreak of the six- day -Egypt war—manifested itself in renewed weapon supplies to Greece (Woodhouse 1985a: 40-1). France remained inactive and, excluding brief periods in 1969 and 1971, so did West Germany (ibid., p. 40). At home, the regime’s extensive and efficient security network of finding and punishing dissidents and, thereby, dispersing any opposition remained unfeathered. In fact, the ESA, with its near autonomous powers of arrest, detention and , had become the ‘national reformatory’ (Amnesty 1977: 12-14).42 Purges, dismissals and forced retirements continued unabated within the financial, education and legal sectors, as well as within the civil service. In a sustained attempt to ‘bring the administrative apparatus of the state under their total control’ (Danopoulos & Patel 1980: 193), those holding high positions were replaced with junta officials or overshadowed by junta watchdogs. The King’s absence meant that purging of those within the Armed Forces who were loyal to the Crown escalated.43

42 The quote is taken from the official closing statement of the prosecutor during the first ESA trial (Amnesty 1977: 13-14). 43 ‘Athenian’ (1972: 206 fn. 8) relates a popular joke at the time reflective of the prominence of ’ arrests:

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Retirements and dismissals were preferred to arrests as the justification for the former was less tied up in legal ramifications than the latter.44 Junior officers expected to tow the party line were promptly promoted and consequently, enjoyed a newfound prestige under the regime.45 In the first years of the dictatorship, strict censorship and brutal repercussions made speaking out against the junta very difficult, if not impossible. Though pre-publication censorship was lifted at the end of 1969, new provisions in redrafted press laws guaranteed that press freedoms were still very much restricted and dictated by the regime. Articles were heavily scrutinised and penalties were enforced (‘Athenian’ 1972: 2; Dimakis 1977: 232; Meletopoulos 1996: 37; Schwab & Frangos 1970: 108; Xydis 1974: 516).46 Nevertheless, articles and cartoons critical of the junta began to appear sporadically and increase in number as the years progressed. The monopoly over information services—though, as previously noted, not an original feat—extended to both civilian and military radio and television networks. The Armed Forces Information Service (YENED – Υπηρεσία Ενηµερώσεως Ενόπλων ∆υνάµεων) was created at the end of 1970, which, under the direct control of the head of the Armed Forces, focused

In the middle of the night a citizen is woken up by fierce knocking on his door and opening it, he trembles at the sight of threatening police officers. Frightened he stammers, ‘There must be some mistake, gentlemen. I am a communist. The royalists are on the third floor’. 44 In May/June 1969 alone, there were seven times more dismissals than arrests (Schwab & Frangos 1970: 88-9). From 1967-72, approximately 3,000 officers were forced into an early retirement (Veremis 1997: 154) with a sixth of the entire Armed Forces cashiered immediately after the King’s abortive counter-coup in December 1967 (ibid., p. 162; Clogg 1986: 189). 45 This prestige was especially true of ESA officers, particularly those stationed in Athens. In addition to being considered ‘the most select unit in the Greek army’, they were not required to wear a uniform, they could use all public entertainment gratis, they had uninterrupted use of a car, and, upon leaving, were guaranteed employment in the public service (Amnesty 1977: 37). 46 In March 1970, the proprietors of the newspaper Ethnos were tried and sentenced for publishing ‘false reports likely to cause anxiety among the public’. They received fines and long prison sentences ranging from 13 months to five years (‘Athenian’ 1972: 2-3; McDonald 1983: 72-4).

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on ‘the national, moral, and social education, as well as the training, information and entertainment of, primarily, the Armed Forces and the public at large’ (Katsoudas 1987: 191).47 In the same year, the national civilian television network was transformed into the National Radio and Television Network (EIRT – Εθνικό Ίδρυµα Ραδιοφωνίας και Τηλεοράσης) and was to be controlled by a prime-minister-appointed board (McDonald 1983: 171).48 The economy continued to grow steadily and governmental financial incentives assured that ‘the regime wielded not only the stick, but also the carrot’ (Xydis 1974: 512). The sustained economic growth, which only began to falter in the final years of the dictatorship, was partly due to governmental measures in the 1950s and early 1960s and partly due to increased borrowing. Until 1972, inflation remained steady at an annual rate of between 2.5% and 3% (Xydis 1974: 525). The growth rate was maintained largely due to continued and increased revenue from invisibles such as tourism (Kourvetaris & Dobratz 1987: 140; Legg 1969: 239; Xydis 1974: 526 fn. 31), migrant remittances (Gallant 2001: 200; Xydis 1974: 526)—especially those of seamen (Clogg 1986: 195)—and shipping (Close 2002: 55; Xydis 1974: 526 fn. 31).49 There was an increase in foreign capital and industry in Greece (Gallant 2001: 200; Clogg 1986: 195) through appeals to foreign and domestic investors. Under the dictatorship, 1953 laws promoting the investment of foreign capital became even more advantageous and

47 Katsoudas translates directly from Act 222/1970, art. 101. 48 This control over television and radio content at home, however, appears not to have been sufficient, as a series of decrees also censored the content of Greek films entered in foreign festivals abroad. One such decree (Decree 241/A, 25 July 1969, art. 2) clearly stated that the content of film had to be compatible with ‘the religious beliefs, the traditions of the Greek People at the cultural and spiritual level, [and] public order and national security’. 49 Xydis’s information is gathered from the National Centre of Social Sciences (1972), Greeks Abroad [in Greek], (Athens), p. 15, tabs. 2 & 3.

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provided further incentives.50 Many of these major investment agreements that were signed, however, were then repealed or never fully implemented (Danopoulos & Patel 1980: 196; Woodhouse 1991: 302).51 From time to time, the regime would implement pay increments in both the public and private sectors. In fact, the average annual income increased from $700 in 1967 to $1,200 in 1973 (Mouzelis 1978: 122; Papacosma 1977: 186). The civil service, pensioners, the clergy, the Armed Forces and farmers did particularly well from such pay increases. The 1970 budget included a further 5% increase for civil servants and pensioners, who, according to the Ministry of Finance (1970: 53-4), had already received a pay increase of 10%. The regime did much to improve the conditions of church employees, increasing priests’ salaries to equal that of civil servants and improving their education (Frazee 1977: 148).52

50 Georgiou (1988: 43-4) provides some alarming figures regarding the benefits enjoyed by foreign investors: multinational companies were exempt from any form of taxation; the tax levy and stamp duty for export-oriented enterprises was minimal; the tax levy and stamp duty on loans to industrial and tourist enterprises were abolished; all taxes and tariffs on imported office equipment were abolished; income tax was exempt; and levies on imported vehicles and household furniture of personnel was abolished. Foreign investors also enjoyed a monopoly over many sectors of the Greek economy: by the end of 1973, 16 of the 29 banks in Greece were foreign owned, the vast majority of which were established under the dictatorship; the insurance market consisted of almost two thirds foreign owned companies; almost a quarter of the total assets in all commercial enterprises were controlled by only 6.3% of foreign firms; 34% of total capital was controlled by only 7.5% of foreign technical enterprise; and the USA and France still dominated the mining enterprises in Greece (ibid., p. 48). 51 From as early as May 1967, Greece had signed an agreement with Litton Industries for the complete economic development of Crete and the Peloponnesus region (Law 16/A, 31 May 1967). By 1971, this agreement had been cancelled. Similarly, Aristotle Onasis and Stavros Niarchos—following their announcements a year later stating the transfer of their foreign-flag shipping companies to Greece (Schwab & Frangos 1970: 62)—had entered into discussions with the junta about large-scale capital investment (Woodhouse 1991: 295); however, these too broke down in 1971 (ibid., p. 303; 13 Nov. 1971, pp. 91-2). By 1972, this constant ebb and flow of quick ‘agreements’ had reached ‘comical proportions’ (Danopoulos and Patel 1980: 196) and were, as Danopoulos (1988: 225) concludes, indicative of the regime’s inability to present consistent and concise policies. 52 In early 1969 the Greek Orthodox Church was granted a new charter (Decree 126/A, 17 Feb. 1969) giving it financial, constitutional and administrative autonomy, which included the ability to make legal decisions without government approval (Frazee 1977: 148-9). It is curious then, as Clogg (1973: 274-5) notes, that the upper echelons of the church, having received such favours in return for their allegiance, should set up a commission in mid-1973 investigating student detentions at the ESA headquarters.

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Within the officer corps, there was a dramatic increase in wages, in the military standard of living and a broadening of privileges (McNeill 1978: 126). A series of agreements beginning in April (Law 337/Alfa, 1 Apr. 1968) was reached between the , the Agricultural Bank and repatriated farmers, where, among other benefits, farmers received large loans and had their previous debts cleared. In 1970, the regime published a report on their previous economic growth and their future economic initiatives (Ministry of Finance 1970); however, like the governments before it, this growth and these initiatives were by-products of increased borrowing and exacerbated the pre-existing favouritism, overloaded and unequal distribution of wealth. The regime continued to denounce the Greek individual’s propensity for favouritism and nepotism, though both were evident within its own rank and file.53 It vowed to transform the ‘state machinery’ completely, but the civil service remained bogged down in bureaucratic disorder.54 In the period 1967-73, total imports almost quadrupled (Karayeorgas 1978: 25) and governmental debt and the balance of payments deficit soared.55

Perhaps it was just as Archbishop Ieronymos stated following Ioannidis’s counter-coup in November: they felt the coup had ‘strayed from the path of righteousness’ (The Economist 22 Dec. 1973, p. 32). 53 In addition to the replacement of employees in all sectors with those who were deemed ‘loyal’, Legg (1969: 243) points to one example given by (28 May 1967, p. 14) of the Minister of Agriculture being Makarezos’s brother-in-law. 54 Changes to the civil service were certainly needed as Greece had far more civil servants per capita than any other Western European country (Legg & Roberts 1997: 167). Danopoulos (1988) argues that the regime ultimately failed to legitimate itself because it failed ‘to issue clear policy directives, allow bureaucratic participation in the decision- making process, and be responsive to the needs and suggestions of administrative personnel [which ultimately led to the bureaucracy] refusing to lend legitimacy and allegiance to the regime’ (ibid., p. 229). 55 A 16-page report produced by the former Minister of Commerce, Emmanuel Kothris, cited that, among other things, there was a 170% increase in government debt to the Bank of Greece and only a 24% rise in national income in the first three years of junta rule. In addition to this, the former deputy of the Bank of Greece, John Pesmazoglou, stated that there had been a slowdown in economic growth rates and that the balance of payments deficit had soared due to the increasing acquisition of foreign credits (Schwab & Frangos 1970: 114)—a fact with which The Economist concurred (1 Nov. 1969, p. 76).

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There was a significant slowdown in the yearly rate of agricultural production and a decline in the government’s total investment in the sector (Pesmazoglu 1972: 82). Though there was a general increase in the general standard of living, the gap between the per capita incomes in agriculture and non-agricultural activities continued to widen (ibid., p. 81, tab. 2).56 While industrial exports increased, the growth rate and investment in that sector slowed (ibid., p. 83).57 By 1969, educational expenditure had assumed 1957 figures (Bermeo 1995: 445).58 Expenditure on social services and social welfare was cut in the first two years of military rule; however, from 1970-3, it had reached ‘historic highs’ and overall expenditure for social welfare was ‘higher than it had been under any government since at least 1960’ (ibid., p. 446). By this time, Greece had withdrawn from the Council of Europe and the public both overseas and at home was becoming increasingly vocal and active against the junta. Exiled politicians (Andreas Papandreou, George Mavros), members of the press (Helen Vlachou) and the arts () continued to rally foreign governments to oppose the junta. Foreign broadcasts, such as Germany’s Deutsche Welle and the BBC’s Greek language programme, acquired many Greek listeners (‘Athenian’ 1972: 103; Katsoudas 1987: 195; McNeill 1978: 127). In December 1968, ‘The Free Voice of Greece’ began to broadcast in New York in both Greek and English. Publications that were critical of the regime, such the London monthly journal Greek Report, began regularly to publish overseas (Schwab & Frangos 1970: 105).

56 This discrepancy extended to a significant change in the percentage of agricultural products that were exported. In 1960, 80% of all of Greece’s exports were from the agricultural sector; in 1971, agriculture’s contribution to total exports had dropped to 42% (Mouzelis 1978: 121) 57 The increase in industrial exports can be attributed almost exclusively to the productivity of 10 firms, all of which were established prior to the junta (Pesmazoglu 1972: 83). 58 Bermeo’s sources his information from the Government of the Greece (1960-1980), Στατιστική Επετηρίς της Ελλάδος, 1960-1980 (Athens: Ethniko)

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Within Greece, individuals became involved in single acts of resistance. Some politicians (George Papandreou, Kanellopoulos) and well- known literary figures (George Seferis) broke their silence, condemning the situation in Greece.59 Others undertook more violent acts of resistance; notably, ’s attempted assassination of Papadopoulos on 13 .60 As previously discussed, some individual resistance groups such as PAK, DA and PAM, had formed and it was these unofficial groups, rather than governments, that remained proactive in protest, even though their inability to cooperate with one another delayed the joint opposition front.61 Reported bombings in Athens intensified in number and target: the offices of the pro-junta newspapers Estia and Nea Politeia; military sites; the National Bank of Greece, Olympic Airways; US transnational corporations around Syndagma Square; the Hilton; and the Civil Servants’ Union (Schwab & Frangos 1970: 79-80).62 The first mass population-based resistance to and antipathy for the junta became evident at George Papandreou’s funeral on 3 November 1968 in Athens. The funeral became a means of public protest, not unlike Lambrakis’s funeral five years earlier. Half a million people attended—a

59 Papandreou’s statement on the first anniversary of the dictatorship is re-printed in Papandreou (1973: 384-6). Kanellopoulos was consistent in his disapproval of the regime and in his proactiveness in producing statements to that effect. Like other political leaders, he was a witness for the defence in numerous post-dictatorship trials. His statements are collected in Kanellopoulos (1987). 60 On the morning of 13 August 1968, an unsuccessful attempt was made to assassinate Papadopoulos when a bomb exploded near his car while he was travelling on a coastal road out of Athens. Panagoulis, an army deserter and an ex-EK Youth Movement activist, was immediately arrested and charged along with 20 others. A trial ensued on 4 November 1968 and 11 sentences were passed, two of which were suspended. Panagoulis was sentenced to death by firing squad on 17 November; however, after international appeals for clemency, he had his sentence reprieved on 20 December 1968 (Schwab & Frangos 1970: 75-6). 61 Cooperation with Andrea Papandreou’s PAK seemed to pose the biggest problem in intra-group collegiality. Neither major political party (EK, ERE) wanted anything to do with his new liberal approach to politics, nor did either side of the newly split KKE (Xydis 1974: 525). 62 cf. Schwab & Frangos (1970: 75-89) who outline the main resistance activities of 1968- 9 and their repercussions, and Yannopoulos’s (1972) article on oppositional forces in the first four years of the coup.

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fifth of the entire Athens population—and chanted slogans against the dictatorship (Clogg 1992: 163). Noting that student groups were slowly becoming the most problematic section of the public, Papadopoulos announced a new ‘Student Code’ of behaviour (Decree 93/A, 22 Jan. 1969). This ‘code’ provided that a student could be punished if, among other things, their conduct or ideals aimed in any way at ‘overthrowing the current social system’ or they espoused or propagated ideas of such organisations (art. 120). The more resistance escalated, the more the regime focused not just on new legislation but also on creating a support base and enacting popular measures.63 Papadopoulos’s picture was plastered everywhere and pro-junta pamphlets and leaflets were continuously distributed. Papadopoulos’s speeches and thoughts were compiled in a series of books entitled Our Creed (‘Το Πιστεύω Μας’, To Pistevo Mas) and were printed— and in the case of Volume 1, reprinted—and distributed gratis to civil servants and to schools where teachers were required to set extracts as essay topics (‘Athenian’ 1972: 93). A number of articles dealing with human rights withheld from the 1968 Constitution were gradually reintroduced. It was announced that non-high ranking civil servants who had previously been dismissed during the dictatorship would be reviewed and then possibly reinstated. A new press code was to be promulgated in mid-1970 and, in , revisions and reforms to education were published. An announcement was made that passports would no longer be withheld from a citizen— excluding EDA ministers—without ‘sufficient reason’ (‘Athenian’ 1972: 1- 2). The abolition of mandatory certificates on a citizen’s healthy social views (Πιστοποιητικά Κοινωνικών Φρονηµάτων) was announced for all employees, except civil servants (Xydis 1974: 528-9). A partial amnesty

63 This view is shared by others. cf. Bermeo (1995: 446 & 447, tab. 2) and Pesmazoglou (1972: 77-8).

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was granted at the turn of every year to a handful of those incarcerated, and, by 1971, Martial Law was lifted, though not in Athens, and Thessaloniki.64 The regime continued to cater to the growing fanaticism in football by providing free tickets to matches and an outlet for disenchanted citizens (Clogg 1973: 274).65 New prizes and pensions were announced for and artists—a group that had steadily become increasingly critical of the regime (Xydis 1974: 512). Pane et circum indeed. Nevertheless, though publicly professed, privately, most of these popular measures were not upheld or were replaced with stricter penalties for ‘anti-national’ behaviour. Trials of individuals and resistance groups were not infrequent, and defence witnesses often included ex-politicians. The regime continued to preach a return to a parliamentary system once Greece embodied a ‘Helleno-Christian Civilisation’: a society where traditional family values and religion were key. Geopolitical concerns continued to afford Greece tacit approval from the majority of the world. Old relationships were maintained and new ones were forged. With the noted exception of the Scandinavians and the Dutch, the international stance was one of non-action, if not acceptance or approval.66 Initially, the USA had initiated an embargo on its shipment of military equipment to Greece. These shipments were resumed briefly for geopolitical reasons in 1968 after the USSR invaded Czechoslovakia, and, by the end of 1970, the ‘embargo’ was completely lifted (Schwab & Frangos

64 In late March 1968, almost all prisoners from the island camp of Yiaros were released and, in October, the government announced its closure (Xydis 1974: 515). By April 1971, the detention camps on the island of Leros and at were also closed (‘Athenian’ 1972: 5). Many of those released were rearrested. For example, Ioannis Kapsis, the editor of Ethnos, and Christos Lambrakis, the editor of five Athenian publications, were both re- arrested in January 1968 after their release (Schwab & Frangos 1970: 53). 65 Between 1966 and 1970, spending on football fields increased sevenfold (Pesmazoglu 1972: 78). 66 For an interesting argument as to why the Scandinavians and the Dutch were so quick to act and publicly denounce the regime in Greece, see Treholt (1972: 212-13).

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1970: 73; Xydis 1974: 522).67 In addition to resuming military shipments to Greece, in May 1968, a guided missile range was established on Crete for NATO troops (Fawcett 1970: 226). In , the USA authorised $3.4 billion in foreign aid to Greece (Xydis 1974: 522), and cemented its partnership with the nation when, in , it signed a series of agreements with the US 6th Fleet providing it with homeport facilities in Piraeus (Clogg 1986: 193; Woodhouse 1991: 298).68 A number of friendly comments and official visits from prominent US political figures reinforced this relationship; namely, the US ambassador Talbot in January 1969 (Meletopoulos 1996: 36) and the secretary of Commerce, the Secretary of Defence, and Vice-President (nee Anagnostopoulos) in 1971— the latter being particularly symbolic with his Greek heritage. The overriding concern in international circles was that Greece continued to honour its NATO obligations and its bilateral agreements with the USA (Xydis 1974: 522). The ‘domino effect’ argument that precipitated the establishment of the in 1947 was now being applied with equal force when it came to US/NATO considerations in Greece: Greece had to be secured or other democratic nations would fall.69

67 McDonald (1990: 312 fn. 50) subscribes to the view that because this 3-year embargo did not cover ‘small arms and other equipment’, Greece was provided with ‘more heavy equipment […] than in the three years prior to the coup’. cf. Clogg (1986: 193), Danopoulos (1982: 269, tab. 1) and Xydis (1972: 196-7) who note that the USA was by far the main military equipment dealer in Greece, even though it claimed to have cut off supplies. 68 Contrary to Papadopoulos’s statement to the self-nominated Algerian Head of State in October 1973, the availability of homeporting facilities for the USA continued unfeathered (Xydis 1974: 524). 69 Though a Parliamentary Assembly meeting of NATO on 20 October 1969 urged its member states to apply pressure on Greece for its return ‘to free elections, parliamentary democracy and the ’ (Schwab & Frangos 1970: 101), it was clear that ‘actions against Greece in NATO […] would undermine the security in the south-east flank of NATO, thus putting at risk democratic ideals and parliamentary institutions on a scale far wider than Greece’. (Quote taken from a letter from the British Prime Minister’s office on 8 January 1970, which was cited in a member letter of the ‘London League for Democracy in Greece’ in March 1970.)

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In this respect, Greece had become ‘the most valuable piece of real estate’ (Katris 1974: 337)70 in Europe: the Soviet fleet in the Mediterranean had grown; Sadat, the Egyptian President, was taking an increasingly pro- soviet stance; Gaddafi had usurped power from the Libyan monarchy in 1969; Jordan was busy with its own civil war with the PLO (Palestine Liberation Organisation); Mintoff, the new Prime Minister of , had refused NATO vessels (Gallant 2001: 201; McDonald 1990: 279); and the Arab-Israeli conflict continued. Geopolitical concerns also dominated Greece’s relationship with other NATO partners. France, in addition to the pre-existing Pechiney aluminium-alumina plant in the Gulf of Corinth, sponsored loans to Greece and negotiated deals with the vehicle manufacturers Renault and Peugeot, and the sale of ‘Mirage’ fighter-bombers (The Economist 13 Nov. 1971, p. 92; Treholt 1972: 220). Many of the dictatorship’s infrastructure works were sponsored by $72 million worth of West German credits (Katris 1974: 341), and, from 1969-71, an agreement between the two nations was negotiated to build four submarines in accordance with Greece’s position in the Atlantic Treaty and its importance to NATO (Treholt 1972: 220). Great Britain signed a military agreement with Greece in March 1969 concerning the selling of military material and vehicles (Katris 1974: 340; Treholt 1972: 220). All three nations had diplomatic exchanges with Greece: Makarezos visited Paris in July 1969 (Katris 1974: 342; Xydis 1972: 198); West Germany exchanged diplomats with Greece in May 1973 (Meletopoulos 1996: 41); and, in 1971, under a veil of secrecy, the British Foreign Minister Lord Carrington visited Athens (Treholt 1972: 220). Italy, on the other hand, while keeping up diplomatic appearances, did nothing further to foster a relationship with the regime. On the contrary, the

70 Katris quotes a statement made by a prominent ‘architect of American politics’ printed in the US magazine Atlas in July 1970.

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Foreign Minister of Italy met with Andreas Papandreou at the end of March 1969 (Katris 1974: 342).71 The EEC, though claiming to have ‘frozen’ the 1962 Treaty of Association with Greece, in actuality, removed tariff barriers in order to regularise EEC-Greek agricultural policies (Clogg 1986: 192-3) and trade and industrial goods circulation (Xydis 1974: 525-6). Despite official communiqués, ‘the step-by-step reduction of tariff and other barriers had permitted a greater development of Greece’s trade relations with EEC than with the rest of the world’ (ibid.).72 Reciprocal visits with Africa provided an opening to the continent; in fact, in the first half of 1971, Pattakos visited five African nations (Xydis 1972: 200). The regime maintained friendly relations with Arab nations in the Middle East, and signed a tourist agreement with Egypt at the beginning of 1969 (Katris 1974: 343). After its resignation from the Council of Europe, Greece began to foster relationships also with communist nations. The USSR, while initially denouncing the junta, honoured their previously agreed upon supplies to Greece and signed new, favourable trade agreements (Katris 1974: 346 fn. 1; Treholt 1972: 223). These favourable agreements extended to the USSR’s satellite states: in June 1970, trade agreements had been signed with Albania (Katris 1974: 344; Watt 1971: 360); in June 1971, with

71 While international governments certainly acted according to their interests rather than those of the Greek people, it is a misgiving not to accredit the pressure they placed on the Greek government regarding the release of well-known prisoners. Andreas Papandreou was released after US pressure; in April 1972, after a West German request, Professor George Mangakis was released; and international appeals for clemency converted Panagoulis’s death sentence. 72 In an official communiqué on 10 April 1970, the EEC voiced its ‘growing concern’ at the situation in Greece, particularly in that recent events ‘do not seem to announce the return to a normal democratic way of life’. It continued by saying that it ‘deeply deplores this situation’ and that a return to democratic ways free of ‘repeated infringements of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen [are] still infinitely desirable’. (Quote taken from Fawcett 1970: 226.) By the end of 1969, 43% of Greece’s total imports were from the EEC (Treholt 1972: 220) and exports to EEC countries increased by 150% (Fawcett 1970: 226).

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Romania (Watt 1971: 360); and, in May 1973, following Makarezos’s official visit there, with China. A series of other official visits cemented these agreements: there was an exchange of ambassadors with Albania in 1971 (Clogg 1986: 194); the Romanian foreign minister visited Athens; the Bulgarian Foreign Minister visited Greece in May 1970 (Katris 1974: 344); and, finally, in a highly symbolic show, the Patriarch of Moscow visited Greece in 1972 and was received by Papadopoulos himself (Xydis 1974: 535). Greek-Yugoslav relations, which had been troubled from the dictatorship’s onset, improved after 1970 (Xydis 1974: 535), particularly following an exchange of diplomats in September of that year (Treholt 1972: 224; Watt 1971: 360). As is evident from the above discussion, any foreseeable objection to the dictatorship would not have come from outside Greece’s borders. Nor, at this stage, would it have come from public reactions to the regime. As Papadopoulos’s power began to grow, so did the enemy within his own rank and file. Two dominant groups within the junta were apparent, in retrospect, from the very beginning, showing that its members were, indeed, ‘an unstable alliance of diverse and ambitious rivals’ (Woodhouse 1985a: 32). There were ‘hardliners’, such as Aslanidis, Ioannidis, and Ladas, who subscribed to the view of modelling the regime a la Metaxas and extending military rule indefinitely.73 There were ‘moderates’, such as Angelis, Papadopoulos, and Stamatopoulos, who ultimately favoured a return to parliamentary rule. Papadopoulos answered any possible problems of dissention through new or reshuffled cabinets.74 The new cabinet in August 1971 reduced the

73 In certain circles, these men came to be known as ‘Qadafites’ (Καδάφιδες) (Danopoulos 1992b: 45; McDonald 1973: 368). 74 His new cabinets were dominant in the first phase of the dictatorship (April 1967, December 1967, June 1968); however, save for one new cabinet during the second phase (August 1971), his purpose of ‘cleansing’ his own ‘Revolution’ was achieved merely through numerous reshuffles. By this time, the number of ministerial and secretary-

89 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

18 ministries to 13 (McDonald 1972: 232), dispensed with many of the original coup (Danopoulos 1980: 193; McNeill 1978: 129) and initiated more civilians into the cabinet (Xydis 1974: 528). For Papadopoulos, the cabinet would be complete in March 1972, when he deposed Zoitakis and added the Regency to his already overloaded portfolio. By this time, Papadopoulos had accumulated the positions of Prime Minister, Defence Minister, Foreign Minister and Minister of Government Policy. Events in 1972, however, would force him to pursue a new form of government altogether, where complete control would be unquestionably his, and the longevity of his power guaranteed.

Third Phase (22 March 1972-25 November 1973): ‘A Presidential Parliamentary Republicanism’ By the end of 1972, inflation had begun to rise and the government found it increasingly difficult to maintain the image of Greece as an economically sound state. By 1973, exacerbated by the devaluation of the drachma in 1971 (Xydis 1974: 526) and the existing world oil crisis, the inflation rate skyrocketed. At 30%, it became the highest in Europe (Clogg 1992: 165; Close 2002: 45). With an increase of 30.6% in the cost of living (Karayeorgas 1978: 27- 8) and without further economic incentives, pacification of the population no longer could be secured. Many newspapers in Athens became increasingly critical of governmental policy, particularly in the lead-up to

general resignations began to become so frequent that to declare a new cabinet every few months would have been ludicrous. Among the resignations of note was that of the secretary-general of communication, Stamatelopoulos. According to McDonald (1972: 233-4) Stamatelopoulos’s resignation was not accepted because it would appear as a ‘crack’ in the junta’s solidarity. Stamatelopoulos, therefore, resigned his military post ‘out of a sense of responsibility towards the revolution’. From 1970, Stamatelopoulos continued to challenge Papadopoulos’s shrewd and total ascent to power (ibid., p. 234), and in the presidential election of 1973, he nominated himself as a candidate (McDonald 1990: 294). Though his self-nomination had no practical implications, at the very least, it provided a very public ‘crack’ in the junta’s solidarity.

90 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

and aftermath of the 1973 plebiscite (Xydis 1974: 529).75 Many young people, who had no immediate memory of the Civil War (and by extension, the communist fear) were coming of age and student protests became more frequent, larger in number and more daring and organised.76 The Armed Forces could not be considered a uniform loyal base for the ‘Colonels’ and this became evident with the naval mutiny in May, which will be discussed shortly. The regime’s focus had to become, once again, the containment of the masses by force. The first rumblings of student unrest occurred on the fifth anniversary of the dictatorship. A hundred or so students sat on the steps of Athens University and chanted slogans of ‘freedom’ and ‘democracy’. The police broke up the protest and the regime attempted to safeguard against further disturbances with a decree on 3 May allowing for the use of during illegal demonstrations (McDonald 1990: 288). In November, students abstained from voting in the Student Body elections, demanding institutional freedom and autonomy (ibid.; Papacosma 1977: 185). Two months later, students of the Polytechnic School in Athens abstained from lectures. The police broke up both protests and, in January 1973, the regime decreed that students were no longer exempt from compulsory until after graduation; they could be summoned at anytime (Clogg 1986: 195; McDonald 1990: 288). Students

75 Though articles critical of the regime began to be published with greater frequency, there were still a number of severe repercussions for their authors or editors. One such example was, on 23 April 1973, when the newspapers Vradyni and Thessaloniki were closed after attempting to publish statements critical of the regime made by Karamanlis. 76 Xydis (1974: 527-8) draws an interesting parallel between the changing demographic in Greece and the rise in opposition in 1972. In the early stages of the dictatorship, almost 30% of the population was born prior to WW2 and, therefore, had lived through and retained strong memories of the years of occupation and civil war. Thus, almost 30% of the population attached a great deal of value to the ideals of discipline, tranquillity, order and ‘keeping the enemy at bay’, i.e., the ideals that the junta perpetually preached. By 1972/3, a greater percentage of young people had reached the voting or student age— 72,000 students in total (ibid., p. 528 fn. 37). Xydis argues that because these students had no immediate memory of their parents’ experiences, they therefore were not easily persuaded by the same ideals. Instead, they sought a freer existence and, as is evidenced by the student protests that erupted, were not afraid to demand it and fight for it.

91 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

continued to protest all over the country and the junta continued forcibly and brutally to retaliate (Gallant 2001: 202; McDonald 1990: 289; Meletopoulos 1996: 40-1). By mid-1973, however, control over another sector of the Greek nation became the regime’s most pressing problem. In the early morning of 23 May 1973, a naval mutiny occurred involving a handful of warships that broke away from official NATO exercises in the Mediterranean.77 The mutiny was to involve these ships sailing to the island of , securing the garrison and calling for the restoration of democracy. Papandreou’s ex- Foreign Minister and a few other public figures would be responsible for making the plan known to the press and foreign embassies (McDonald 1990: 292). The plan was compromised and the mutiny failed in its main aim; however, it did point to one important issue: the Armed Forces’ tacit and uniform approval of the regime, which, in the past, had been assumed, visibly, was no more. Implementing the King and previous conservative politicians as the ringleaders of the mutiny, Papadopoulos declared that the monarchy was ‘an outdated remnant of past ages’ (Papadopoulos 2004: 214) and that, consequently, the 1968 Constitution would have to be amended to reflect this. On 1 June 1973, Papadopoulos abolished the monarchy and declared the coming of a plebiscite to vote on Greece’s new system of government: a Presidential Parliamentary .78 The proposed system (Efimeris tis Kyverniseos/A 4 Oct. 1973, iss. 266) revised 33 constitutional articles and essentially reinforced legislative,

77 The navy, traditionally the royal branch of the Armed Forces, was ‘an elitist-dominated institution with the highest number of educated officers’ (Danopoulos 1992b: 45-6). Despite countless purges, the majority of navy officers continued to view the ‘Colonels’ as power-hungry, uneducated and incompetent leaders. As a consequence of these countless purges, effective and collective opposition and action was difficult to amass prior to May (Clogg 1973: 273). 78 Xydis (1974: 512) points to evidence that the abolition of the monarchy was on the junta’s agenda prior to the naval mutiny in May, with hardliners, like Ioannidis, especially supportive of it.

92 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

executive and judicial power into the new President’s hands (art. 3). The President, ‘the symbol of the nation’s unity’ (art. 30, para. 1), would be elected for a 7-year term that could not be renewed (ibid., para. 2).79 He would command the Armed Forces and could appoint the chiefs-of-staff (art. 49, para. 2), the ministers and under-secretaries of defence, public order and foreign affairs, and control their budgets and preside over cabinets that discussed their business (art. 45). He could declare Martial Law (art. 40, para. 2ζ), and because he had to approve all laws presented to parliament, he could put any of these to a referendum (art. 48). In short, the President would have exclusive control of all matters concerning defence, national security, public order and foreign affairs. Parliament would consist of 200 members (art. 56, para. 1). A court was re-established to decide on the eligibility of political candidates (art. 58, para. 2) and no individual member could sit for more than four consecutive parliaments (art. 61, para. 4)—no doubt a check put in place to limit the future participation of Andreas Papandreou in politics.80 For the second time during the dictatorship, the question of a new constitution was put to the population in a plebiscite on 29 July 1973. In addition to being held while the Greater Athens area was still under Martial Law, many of the questionable conditions that had surrounded the 1968 plebiscite resurfaced (McDonald 1990: 313, fn. 67): the propaganda leading up to the plebiscite was heavily one-sided; public meetings in support of the ‘no’ vote were banned; and proponents of the ‘no’ vote who attempted to distribute literature to this effect were quickly arrested. Nevertheless, there were numerous publications in the press of ex- politicians encouraging the public to vote ‘no’. Conversely, the ‘yes’ campaign utilised millions of drachmae and used all the state-controlled means it could to secure this vote. The plebiscite

79 This 7-year term imbedded in the 1973 Constitution was, as Clogg (1973: 275 fn. 1) points out, a contradiction to Papadopoulos’s claim to eight years. 80 Clogg (1973: 276) and McDonald (1973: 367) also support this view.

93 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

was worded in such a way that a ‘yes’ for the system meant a ‘yes’ for the president and for the vice-president – the only candidates being, respectively, Papadopoulos and his right-hand man, Angelis. Symbolically, the propaganda also considered the large part of the Greek population that was illiterate: the ‘yes’ ballot paper was in the national colours, blue and white; the ‘no’ vote was a monotonous grey and black (McDonald 1973: 366). According to the official tally, 78% of the population voted ‘yes’ to the new system.81 On 19 August, Papadopoulos was sworn in as President and Spyros Markezinis, the ex-leader of the National Progressive Union of the Centre (EPEK, Εθνική Προοδευτική Ένωσις Κέντρου) became Prime Minister of a new civilian cabinet on 8 October.82 A general amnesty was declared for all political crimes committed since 21 April (which included a pardon for Panagoulis and the naval mutineers). Over 300 prisoners were released (McDonald 1990: 295; Xydis 1974: 532). The drachma was devalued by a further 10% (Xydis 1974: 532). Martial Law was suspended in the Greater Athens area and municipal and national elections were promised for early 1974 (McDonald 1990: 295; Xydis 1974: 532). In the meantime, however, collective and vocal opposition was amassing. The demonstrations and public assemblies grew throughout October and exploded in November. On 1 November, after the government announced that the law drafting students into the army would be only

81 A number of citizens reported in depositions after the final tally that their votes had been doctored and that in some cases the ‘yes’ and ‘no’ returns were reversed (McDonald 1973: 367). Even under such conditions, the ‘yes’ votes in Athens only reached 51% of the total votes (McDonald 1990: 295; Xydis 1974: 509 & 531). 82 As will be recalled, prior to his assumption of the EPEK leadership, Markezinis was the Minister of Coordination under Papagos’s Greek Rally (1952-4). Markezinis’s admission into the new ‘government’ is curious as he stood alone among well-known politicians who, despite political leanings, were united in their dismissal and condemnation of the dictatorship. In the lead up to the plebiscite, Markezinis argued that Greece should favour a policy that would ‘forgive, forget and [promote] free elections’ (McDonald 1990: 313 fn. 68). In an effort to build a popular base for Markezinis, he was placed on the cover of the first issue of a government magazine, modelled on Time, and given a two-page article (Xydis 1974: 534).

94 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

temporarily lifted, students again abstained from their student elections in protest and demanded new elections in December that were not commandeered by junta faithfuls (McDonald 1990: 297). On 4 November, 10,000 people partook in the memorial service commemorating the fifth anniversary of Papandreou’s death (ibid.). The crowd chanted for freedom and a return to democracy. Police answered their calls with violence, gross brutality and arrests (ibid.). On 8 November, following a ban on a student meeting at the Law School in Athens, students occupied the Polytechnic building in Athens. A few days later, universities in and Thessaloniki followed suit. By 15 November, thousands of students and citizens of Athens had gathered in and around the Polytechnic building. Barricading themselves in the grounds or lining the streets outside, they refused to move or to allow police to enter. They began to broadcast anti-regime messages on their quickly set-up clandestine radio station calling for the support of general strikes and the overthrow of the dictatorship. The following day, a broad spectre of organisations and unions turned up to protest collectively. These demonstrators were brutally dispersed (ibid. pp. 297-8). On the evening of 16 November, police moved in with tear-gas, tanks and rifles to disperse the crowd; by 2:00am, tanks were positioned at the gates of the Polytechnic. Charging at the gate, barricaded students fled haphazardly and were shot or clubbed at random. By 4:00am, the Polytechnic was cleared (ibid., pp. 298-9; Woodhouse 1991: 302). Scores were killed, hundreds injured and thousands arrested (Close 1993: 225; Meletopoulos 1996: 44-5). By 10:00am, Martial Law was reimposed along with a dusk-to-dawn curfew (McDonald 1990: 299). The disaster at the Polytechnic cemented Papadopoulos’s demise. The dramatic changes of the new , which focused all the power in his hands, meant that already present dissention within the junta ranks begun to implode. The stream of resignations (including one of

95 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

the triumvirate, Makarezos, at the end of October) continued in Papadopoulos’s constantly reshuffled cabinets. According to the hardliners, the time for democratic promises was over and the ‘21 April 1967 ideals’ needed to be set back on course. In the early morning of 25 November 1973, tanks once again rolled into Athens, cut communication links and took control of radio stations. Another group of cadres, headed this time by the ESA leader Ioannidis, usurped rule in Greece and, deposing Papadopoulos and his Prime Minister, took control of the nation.

Fourth Phase (26 November 1973-24 July 1974): ‘The Reversion to the 21st April Ideals’ The new regime claimed that Papadopoulos’s coup had lost sight of the essence and ideals of the ‘Revolution of 21st April’ and, like its predecessor, it too had come ‘to stop grave national dangers and to save the country from the chaos toward which it was heading uncontrollably’.83 In fact, the new President’s inaugural speech echoed the sentiments of Kollias some six years earlier:

My sole ambition is to contribute to the smooth functioning of the System of Government and the consolidation of the Greek People’s serenity and unity.84

Any remotely democratic moves that had been made during Papadopoulos’s regime were immediately abolished, along with any proviso for new elections. Papadopoulos, who remained under house arrest, was replaced with Lieutenant General Faidon Gizikis. Markezinis was replaced with Adamantios Androutsopoulos, who immediately recruited an all new

83 This quote is from the official governmental announcement broadcast on the Armed Forces Network. Reprinted in To Vima 27 Nov. 1973, p. 5. 84 Gizikis’s inaugural speech was reprinted in Ta Nea 26 Nov. 1973, p. 1.

96 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

civilian cabinet.85 From its onset, the puppet regime was controlled by Ioannidis, a man who ‘would have been perfectly at home in the ’ (Woodhouse 1991: 304). Ioannidis, along with Gizikis, was an ex- intelligence officer in the in the early 1960s (Close 2002: 133) where he fostered ‘a pathological hatred of communism and an abiding belief in the civilising mission of Hellenism’ (McDonald 1990: 300). During Papadopoulos’s dictatorship, he became ‘the father’ of ESA’s ‘surrogate family’ (Amnesty 1977: 35).86 At the turn of the year, a revised constitution was declared, which was relieved of the extraordinary presidential power present in the 1973 version. Tax and social reforms were promised along with a crackdown on the former regime’s corruption (McDonald 1990: 300). Brutality practised under Papadopoulos became much harsher under Ioannidis. A purge of Papadopoulos’s party faithfuls was immediately undertaken: Archbishop Ieronymos and the bishops under Papadopoulos were replaced (Frazee 1977: 150-1; McDonald 1990: 300; Meletopoulos 1996: 45), as were the Commander-in-Chief, the commanders of the army and air force, and the chiefs of police and gendarmerie (McDonald 1990: 314 fn. 75). The island prison camp of Yiaros was promptly reopened and re-filled with dissidents (ibid., p. 301), and censorship was reinforced with much fervour.

85 Under Papadopoulos, Androutsopoulos was the Minister of Finance until 1971, when he took over the Ministry of the Interior. In the first cabinet of the Presidential Parliamentary Republic he was notedly absent. 86 In an insight into Ioannidis’s character, the testimony of the lawyer Konstantinos Androutsopoulos is enlightening. Androutsopoulos states that Ioannidis ascribed the junta’s longevity to the fact that its cadres ‘relegate the human factor to second place’. He continued, ‘woe to us if we put this [i.e., the human factor] in the first place—we would have fallen within the first three to four months’ (Amnesty 1977: 44). A few months prior to his counter-coup in November, it appears that Ioannidis had become a more visible problem; therefore, he was quickly ‘promoted’ out of Athens to . He refused to go, and was consequently put on two months compulsory leave, which appears to have never been taken as he continued to turn up every day to ESA Headquarters (McDonald 1990: 295).

97 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

Even though inflation continued to rise and Greece’s foreign debt had tripled (The Economist 23 June 1973, p. 49) there appeared to be a more pressing issue for the new regime. Greek-Turkish relations had deteriorated. Any possible ‘cooperation’ that both nations may have enjoyed due to Papadopoulos’s continued support of anti-Makarios elements in Cyprus disappeared in November 1973 once oil had been discovered under the north-Aegean seabed. Territorial and operational control became a cause of disagreement between the two nations, as did the escalating internal problems in Cyprus. Officially, under Papadopoulos’s regime, relations between Greece and Cyprus were strong. Papadopoulos made a point of visiting the island on a number of occasions and denouncing the extremism and violence that continued to take place (ibid., p. 42). In addition to this, upon his visit to Greece in September 1968, Makarios was met with much pomp and glory (Meletopoulos 1996: 35). Unofficially, however, the regime considered Makarios to represent a gross treason to Hellenism and ‘an anti-enotic obstacle that had to be liquidated’ (Danopoulos 1982: 272). Makarios had toyed with Moscow’s help in finding a suitable compromise for Cyprus; he had negotiated an agreement with Czechoslovakia over the importation of arms (Woodhouse 1991: 300); he had provided a haven for many politically persecuted citizens fleeing Greece; and, most importantly, he had done all of this as an archbishop of Orthodoxy (McNeill 1978: 128). Furthermore, though publicly supportive of the Cypriot cause for enosis, privately, the regime did not recognise Cyprus’s right to determine its independence or its own foreign policy. The regime’s intentions became evident in early July 1971 when the foreign ministers of Greece and Turkey met and signed an accord delineating their respective roles in Cyprus. Firstly, the London and Zurich agreements would be upheld. Secondly, the Cypriot problem would be a matter only for Greece and

98 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.2 – The Dictatorship (1967-74)

Turkey to discern. Finally, the matter of enosis would never be broached by Greece again (Danopoulos 1982: 263). Makarios refused to be coerced into such an agreement, and, thus, the regime employed various tactics to overcome this obstacle. In addition to escalating its support of anti-Makarios elements in the Cypriot National Guard, it ‘semi-blessed’ Grivas’s return to Cyprus and the formation of his extremist paramilitary group EOKA-B, who proceeded to engage in various sabotage activities (ibid., pp. 264-5; McNeill 1978: 128-9; Xydis 1974: 513).87 A series of violent measures to overthrow Makarios were also employed; however, these were either uncovered prior to their execution or, as in at least one case, US intervention pacified Athens to employ other means, but to employ them nonetheless (Danopoulos 1982: 264-5). With Papadopoulos now out of the way, Ioannidis took a harder line with the situation in Cyprus. Following Grivas’s death in January 1974, he took control of EOKA-B and pursued blatant policies to topple Makarios, including a number of assassination attempts. Makarios, sensing an impending coup, had pursued various diplomatic means of harnessing the new Greek government’s plans (ibid., pp. 266-7), but to no avail. In a letter to the Greek government in early July, Makarios demanded that almost all of the 650 Greek troops in the Cypriot National Guard withdraw from the island, stating that discernable links had been uncovered between these regime-funded troops, EOKA-B and unlawfully conspiratorial actions (Clogg 1974: 364; Danopoulos 1982: 267; McDonald 1990: 303).88 In what can only be interpreted as a desperate and misguided attempt at the creation of a national power base by forcing enosis, the Greek regime organised and enacted a coup against Makarios on 15 July 1974. Makarios survived his attempted assassination and fled. Nikos

87 Pressure also began to mount from within Cyprus for Makarios’s removal, particularly from the church; however, Makarios managed to overcome this and remain in charge. 88 In Greece, the letter, of course, was never published; instead, a huge anti-Makarios campaign was unleashed (Danopoulos 1982: 267).

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Sampson, a prominent member of EOKA, was installed as President of the island nation.89 Turkish forces, calling upon the 1959 Treaty of Guarantee as legal justification, set the ‘Attila’ contingency plan (Meletopoulos 1996: 46) in motion and began to land on the northern part of the island on 20 July. Two days later, a cease-fire was mediated by the USA and NATO (McDonald 1990: 304; Clogg 1974: 365); however, while bilateral talks ensued, Turkish forces continued to move further south on the island. By the 14 August, Turkish forces had claimed 37% of the island and hundreds of thousands of Greek Cypriots were displaced (McDonald 1990: 306). The island was partitioned and a UN buffer zone was officially created to separate the two parts (Clogg 1974: 366). On 22 July, the commanders of Greece’s army, navy and air force, and a number of senior politicians met to discuss Greece’s preparedness for war with Turkey. A consensus was reached that none of the respective groups were prepared for war and that, therefore, civilian rule should be restored to the country (Clogg 1974: 365; Danopoulos 1982: 267). The Cypriot tragedy and the inability of the Greek forces to mobilise effectively—largely due to the incessant retirement of high-ranking and their replacement with junior officers loyal to the regime (Clogg 1973: 274; Woodhouse 1985a: 39)90—led to the collapse of the 7- year dictatorship. In the early morning of 24 July 1974, Karamanlis returned to Greece and was sworn in as Prime Minister. Echoing post-WW2 Greece, his new

89 According to the leader of the Turkish Cypriots at the time, Sampson was as suitable to the position ‘as would be as President of Israel’ (McDonald 1990: 304). (McDonald quotes from T. Theodoracopoulos (1976), The Greek Upheaval (London: Stacey International), p. 50.) 90 In 1970, US sources estimated that the percentage of top ranking officers in the Greek Armed Forces that were lost due to purges or compulsory retirement was as follows: army 47%, navy 52% and air force 95% (Amnesty 1977: 27 fn. 1).

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‘Government of National Unity’ was formed to take the country to its first parliamentary elections in a decade. The eventual collapse of the dictatorship did not come not from a mass-public mobilisation or from collective opposition; nor did it come from international pressure – though such factors certainly exacerbated and hastened its demise. The regime’s rule ended the same way that it had begun: through a military movement to preserve its power position.91

91 cf. Meletopoulos (1996: 46), Mouzelis (1978: 131), and Papacosma (1977: 187).

101 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.3 – A Brief Epilogue

Chapter 1.3 – A Brief Epilogue

Karamanlis undertook the massive task of filling the void created by the 7- year ‘anomaly’. Political prisoners were released, censorship was abolished and citizenship was returned to those who had it taken away from them during the dictatorship (Xydis 1974: 537). The 1952 Constitution was restored with the articles concerning the monarchy held in abeyance until the nation could collectively vote on the matter. Greece, as an objection to NATO’s inaction in Cyprus, temporarily withdrew from the alliance (Clogg 1974: 366; McDonald 1990: 306). A ‘dejuntification’ (αποχουντοποίησις) of the civil sector was demanded. A new decree provided that all those compulsorily retired or fired under the dictatorship be returned to their posts. Conversely, those who collaborated with the regime and were nominated to their posts because of their allegiance to it were to be removed (Clogg 1975: 8). In the elections of 17 November 1974—the first elections in almost 40 years where the Communist Party was legal—Karamanlis won by an expected majority (Clogg 1975: 11; McDonald 1990: 307).1 On 8 December 1974, the country voted in a plebiscite against the return of the monarchy by a two-thirds majority. The new Constitution was unanimously passed in parliament on 9 June 1975 and Greece became a Presidential Republic in earnest (McDonald 1990: 307; Meletopoulos 1996: 46). In January 1975, the new parliament decided that the dictatorship was a ‘coup’ and not a ‘revolution’; consequently, its executers could be prosecuted for crimes against the state. In the following two years, a series of arrests were made, trials ensued and sentences passed. The triumvirate was condemned to death for high treason.

1 Clogg (1975: 9-12) gives a concise account of the election, its participants and their platforms.

102 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 1.3 – A Brief Epilogue

What is noteworthy about all of these trials is that all sentences passed were either lessened or reprieved by a government that was concerned with maintaining army morale. The triumvirate’s sentence was commuted to . Of the 24 key junta members who were tried in May 1975, only 18 were convicted. Only half of the 32 key ESA officers who were tried on torture charges in were found guilty (Amnesty 1977: 72-4) and, of these, all had their sentences drastically reduced or altogether suspended (ibid. p. 76).2 Of the possible 4,000 soldiers that could have been tried (Daraki-Mallet 1976: 15), only 18 were (Amnesty 1977: 36). The officers that staged the coup in Cyprus were not prosecuted (McDonald 1990: 308); in fact, Gizikis maintained his role of President until the elections took place in November (Clogg 1975: 9) and, prior to their trials, Ioannidis and some of his subordinates were given six months’ leave and, then, were simply dispersed to the frontiers (Clogg 1974: 366-7). Maintaining army morale extended to the new government’s illusionary policy of ‘dejuntafication’ within the Armed Forces: fewer than 100 army officers were compulsorily retired (Clogg 1975: 8). Concerned about a possible renewed conflict with Turkey and Greece’s ability to defend itself, Karamanlis stressed that future not past attitudes would be the determining factor of reemployment. In short, the focus was on moving forward; the nullification of the past was designated a secondary position.

2 Following an overall assessment of the first ESA trial (and its reservations therein), Amnesty (1977) expresses concern over the pursuit and outcomes of subsequent trials (pp. 61-71, 75-8). Particularly of note was a law passed in January 1976 that outlined a 3- to 6-month time limit for initiation of civil suits against junta officials (p. 65). Additionally, Amnesty raises issues concerning ‘victim compensation’ (pp. 69-70).

103 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.1 – Defining the Leadership

Part Two: Lexicon Chapter 2.1 – Defining the Leadership

Μήπως πιστεύει κανείς ακόµη ότι βοηθών αυτήν την περίοδον, βοηθεί τον οποιονδήποτε Παπαδόπουλον ή την οποιανδήποτε Κυβέρνησιν; Προς Θεού, κύριοι. Σήµερον η προσπάθεια είναι δι’ υµάς, είναι δι’ ηµάς τους Έλληνας, τους Έλληνας χωρίς χρώµα (1969b: 69).

Does anyone still believe that through helping in this period he is helping someone called Papadopoulos or some specific Government? By God, gentlemen. Today the endeavour is for you, it is for us Greeks, Greeks without colour.

In developing the underlying concept of unification, Papadopoulos attempts lexically to create the image of a leadership that guides the nation, which collectively supports it. This chapter discusses Papadopoulos’s lexical choices in defining the leadership by examining specific terminology, its repetition, its position within each speech, and its adaptation among targeted groups. It analyses specific representations inherent in his use of the terms Revolution (Επανάστασις, Epanastasis), Government (Κυβέρνησις, Kyvernisis), Constitution (Σύνταγµα, Syntagma), democracy (δηµοκρατία, dimokratia) and dictatorship (δικτατορία, diktatoria). It considers how the repetition of such terms and his use of specific rhetorical formulae develop his definition of the leadership.1 In his political speeches, Papadopoulos presents the leadership as the Revolution (Επανάστασις, Epanastasis) of 21 April 1967. He presents it as a movement for the people and a movement supported by the people (1968a: 37, 42, 47, 52, 80; 1969a: 17, 51; 1970b: 77; 1972: 78); a Revolution that

1 It is acknowledged that the Greek δηµοκρατία is equivalent to both the English ‘democracy’ and ‘Republic’. Papadopoulos’s references during the first and second phase are defined by the former. During the third phase, the dual meaning is exploited and a distinction is made between his references to the new Republic and those to democracy.

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was ‘an authentic Greek expression’ (2004: 65) of the nation’s needs and one that executed the nation’s demands (1968a: 22, 53; 1969b: 24, 134; 1970b: 71; 2004: 228). Accordingly, components of the leadership, such as the army and Papadopoulos, acted solely on behalf of and represent the will of the people. As he explains, the army’s protagonistic role in implementing the revolt was not aimed at promoting the cause of an individual or group endeavour; instead, it acted on behalf of the people, for their salvation (1968a: 41, 49; 1968b: 22, 112, 177; 1970a: 34; 1970b: 89, 112; 1972: 78; 2004: 65, 199).2 Similarly, he reconciles his own dominance within the Revolution not by defining himself as its omnipotent leader, but rather by portraying himself as merely one of its representatives (1968a: 11; 1968b: 51; 1969a: 148).3 He highlights how his contribution is equal to that of others, by comparing his childhood (1968b: 144, 151; 2004: 155), training (1968b: 57-8, 65; 1970b: 37) and military background (1969a: 20; 1970b: 44) to that of targeted groups. Such references were made to emphasise a commonality of experience between him and the rural or education sectors. While references to a shared military ‘family’ (1970b: 44) aimed at achieving the same thing with the Armed Forces, they occasionally also aimed at gaining the audience’s indulgence (in this case, visiting German Ministers):

∆εν πολιτικολογούµεν, διότι µέχρι προχθές είµεθα στρατιωτικοί, οι οποίοι το άσπρο το λέγοµεν άσπρο και το µαύρο το λέγοµεν µαύρο (1969a: 20).

2 Nonetheless, it should be noted that the presentation of the army as having a primary role in the leadership remains a common theme in speeches that are delivered to the Armed Forces. It remains through the Armed Forces’ collective initiative and obligation to history that ‘its’ Revolution was able to realise the nation’s desires (1969a: 167; 1970a: 32; 1970b: 47; 1972: 74). 3 This, however, did not deter others from continuing to award him this role. Michalopoulos, an ideological writer for the junta, published a biography of Papadopoulos decades later, entitled Georgios Papadopoulos: The Great Revolutionary (Γεώργιος Παπαδόπουλος: Ο Μεγάλος Επαναστάτης) (2000).

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We do not talk like politicians, because until yesterday we were military men, who call white, white, and black, black.

Thus, he emphasises, his words are not those of past political representatives—representatives, which, as will be examined in subsequent chapters, were consistently portrayed as detrimental to Greece; instead, they are words of a straightforward ‘military man’; words that additionally represent the unclouded, simplistic ideal of a Greece that all citizens wish to embody (1968b: 62). Thus, he presents himself as the ‘φορεύς της εντολής του Ελληνικού Λαού, φορεύς των ιστορικών ευθυνών’ (bearer of the Greek People’s command, the bearer of historical responsibilities) (1972: 35) or ‘the voice of Greeks’ (1972: 180; 2004: 29) in order to provide an example to others of the altruistic ‘κορυφή’ (pinnacle) (1969b: 180) of courage, sacrifice, determination and selflessness:

∆εν θα δειλιάσω, δεν θα υποχωρήσω, δεν θα εγκαταλείψω εν ουδεµιά περιπτώσει την προσπάθειαν, η οποία θα µας φέρη εις την Ελλάδα που ωνειρεύθηµεν να παραδώσωµεν εις τα παιδιά µας (1969b: 97).

I will not cower, I will not retreat, [and] under no circumstances will I abandon the endeavour that will bring us to the Greece that we dreamed of passing on to our children.

Lexically, the imagery used to describe his determination, will and sacrifice to succeed for the collective intensifies during the second and third phases of the dictatorship. Here, Papadopoulos begins to assert that ‘not a single drop of blood’ will be spared in his body for the ‘objective aims’ of the Revolution to be met (1969b: 109; 1970b: 154)—a fact, which, later, he swears ‘εις την µνήµην των ηρώων, ελευθέρων πολιορκηµένων’ (to

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the memory of the heroes, the free besieged) (2004: 60).4 In short, Papadopoulos exists solely for Greece and his ‘compatriots’, the Greek people (1968b: 56), who, he reminds us, demand this unwavering dedication and sacrifice from him (1969b: 219). The alleged collective support for the leadership is also emphasised to different audiences through the rhetorical formula ‘x is not a, or b or c; x is d’:

Η προσπάθεια αυτή δεν είναι της Κυβερνήσεως, δεν είναι του στρατού ή οµάδος τινός. Είναι προσπάθεια του Ελληνικού Λαού (1968a: 110).

The endeavour is not the Government’s, it is not the army’s, or of any other group. It is an endeavour of the Greek People.

∆εν είναι η προσπάθεια ωρισµένων ανθρώπων, δεν είναι ιδική µου, δεν είναι οµάδος ανθρώπων. Είναι της Ελλάδος προσπάθεια (1969b: 49).

It is not an endeavour of particular people, it is not my own, it is not of a group of people. It is Greece’s endeavour.

This formula directs the listener’s attention to his definition of x, i.e., a collective endeavour of the Greek People, by presenting a series of negations that at once anticipate and reinforce it. Additionally, the formula’s development illustrates how Papadopoulos increasingly comes to present himself as a crucial component of his definition of the Revolution: while ‘d’ continues to represent the collective, ‘a’ begins to represent him:

4 The ‘free besieged’ is a likely reference to those who fought in the War of Independence 1821-8, so called by Greece’s national poet Dionysios Solomos in his eponymous poem of 1826.

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Η προσπάθεια δεν ανήκει εις τον Παπαδόπουλον, δεν ανήκει εις κανένα άτοµον, δεν ανήκει εις καµµίαν οµάδα ατόµων. Η προσπάθεια ανήκει εις το Έθνος (1969b: 120).

The endeavour does not belong to Papadopoulos, it does not belong to any individual, it does not belong to any group of individuals. The endeavour belongs to the Nation.

Το έργον [της Επαναστάσεως] δεν είναι ιδικόν µου, το έργον δεν είναι µιάς οµάδος ανθρώπων, το έργον δεν είναι ουδενός προσώπου. Είναι έργον των Ελλήνων, είναι έργον της Ελλάδος, είναι έργον του Ελληνικού Έθνους (1969b: 71).

The [Revolution’s] deed is not my own, the deed is not that of a group of people, the deed is not anybody’s. It is the deed of Greeks, it is the deed of Greece, it is the deed of the Greek Nation.

In the second example, the collective support of the leadership and its endeavour is further reinforced through a tautological extension of ‘d’ (Greeks, Greece, and the Greek Nation). The presentation of contrasting pairs ‘x is not a. x is b’ holds additional weight within the formula, as exemplified in two addresses in northern Greece in late March 1969:

Η προσπάθεια δεν αναφέρεται, κύριοι, εις εµέ, όσον και άν µε αγαπάτε ή δεν µε αγαπάτε υµείς ή οιοσδήποτε άλλος. Η προσπάθεια αναφέρεται εις το Έθνος. ∆εν αναφέρεται ούτε εις άτοµα, ούτε εις οµάδας ατόµων. Είναι εθνική προσπάθεια (1969b: 81).

The endeavour does not relate to me, gentlemen, irrespective of whether you or anybody else loves me or not. The endeavour relates to

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the Nation. It does not relate to individuals, or to groups of individuals. It is a national endeavour.

∆εν προσπαθείτε υπέρ εµού, δεν προσπαθείτε υπέρ της Κυβερνήσεως. Προσπαθείτε υπέρ του Έθνους, προσπαθείτε υπέρ της Ελλάδος (1969b: 189).

You are not striving for me, you are not striving for the Government. You are striving for the Nation, you are striving for Greece.

If, according to Papadopoulos’s insistence on such rhetorical reasoning, whatever is to be achieved by the leadership will only be achieved by the nation as a whole, then, using the same rhetorical formula, any condemnation of this unified leadership—and by extension its policies and practices—is detrimental to the nation as a whole:

Μήπως [αυτοί που καθυστερούν την πρόοδο της εκπαιδεύσεως] νοµίζουν ότι βλάπτουν εµέ και τους συνεργάτες µου; Βλάπτουν τους ιδίους τους εαυτούς των. Βλάπτουν την Ελλάδα (2004: 193).

Do [the ones who hinder the progress of education] perhaps believe that they are harming me or my colleagues? They are harming themselves. They are harming Greece.

Thus, as he tells the nation prior to the 1973 Referendum for the new constitution, those who object to the leadership are consumed by an ‘anti- revolutionary passion’ (2004: 233). Similarly, educationalists and lawyers are asked not to concern themselves with whether the Revolution was a positive or negative event (1969b: 120, 146 and 148, respectively) or whether or not they agree with its practices (2004: 179). This would be a condemnation of the Greek people themselves:

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Παραπονούνται τίνες ότι τους απεξένωσε και τους κατηγόρησε η Επανάστασις. ∆εν κατηγόρησε κανέναν η Επανάστασις, διότι η Επανάστασις είναι αυτός ούτος ο ελληνικός λαός. Εάν τους κατηγόρησε κάποιος, αυτός είναι η ένοχος συνείδησίς των (1969a: 49-50).

Some complain that the Revolution has alienated them and vilified them. The Revolution did not condemn anyone because the Revolution is the Greek people themselves. If anyone has condemned them, it is their guilty conscience.

In fact, in a national address celebrating the third anniversary of the dictatorship, he is quite clear that any objection to the Revolution does not serve to upset it; instead, it unites it further with the Greek people (1970b: 112). Importantly, by presenting an exclusively inclusive definition of the Revolution, Papadopoulos also manoeuvres an exclusionary definition: if you are not a friend, then, you are a foe:

Είναι εθνική προσπάθεια, και µόνον όσοι δεν πιστεύουν εις αυτό που λέγεται Ελληνική Πολιτεία, ως την περιέγραψε µε το Σύνταγµα που εψήφισεν ο ελληνικός λαός, µόνον αυτοί δεν έχουν συµφέρον να αναπτυχθή αυτή η προσπάθεια. Αλλ’ αυτούς, θέσατέ τους εκτός των ορίων του Έθνους, διότι εκεί ανήκουν (1969b: 81).

It is a national endeavour, and only those who do not believe in that which is called Greek Polity, as described by the Greek people in the Constitution for which it voted, they alone do not have an interest in the development of this endeavour. So, for them, place them outside the boundaries of the Nation, because that is where they belong.

Reiterating the collective and sustained support for the leadership continues to be a linguistic endeavour, with one fundamental difference: it was finally ‘verified’ by the Greek people’s approval of the new Constitution

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in a Referendum at the end of September 1968. He reasons that just as the Revolution was initiated by and for the people, so too was the Referendum (1968b: 167; 1969a: 81, 85, 103); therefore, he becomes justified in thanking the nation for:

την λαµπράν επιδοκιµασίαν της Επαναστάσεως της 21ης Απριλίου [...] διότι η υπερψήφισις του Συντάγµατος σηµαίνει υπερψήφισιν της Επαναστάσεως (1969a: 84).

the splendid approval of the Revolution of the 21st April […] because a vote for the Constitution means a vote for the Revolution.

Furthermore, citizens are asked not to concern themselves with whether they belong to the 8% or 92% of the ‘no’ and ‘yes’ result, respectively, of the 1968 Referendum (1969b: 145). Such an act of questioning, once again, is deemed to suggest a self-doubt not reflective of the ‘πανηγυρική πλειονοψηφία’ (overwhelming majority) (1969a: 113; 1970a: 37). Instead, he continues, people who do not recognise the ‘democratic nature’ of the Constitution reflect their own disregard for the ‘democratic nature’ of Greece (1969a: 32; 1972: 125). The leadership’s alleged democratic foundation and ‘overwhelming support’ became increasingly important elements to accentuate in the lead-up to the 1968 Referendum. Allegations of torture were being considered under the Council of Europe and negative press was mounting overseas. Consequently, Papadopoulos continues to reinforce this parallel: because the ‘overwhelming majority’ of Greeks voted for the 1968 Constitution, the ‘overwhelming majority’ of Greeks support the current regime (1969b: 131; 1970a: 35; 1970b: 18, 65, 67; 1972: 124, 144; 2004: 148, 211-2).

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The regime is thus able to achieve the façade of a democratic institution because the Referendum, according to Papadopoulos is:

το δηµοκρατικώτερον µέσον λήψεως αποφάσεως και εκφράσεως γνώµης επί θεµάτων καιρίας σηµασίας δια το µέλλον του Έθνους (1969a: 81).

the most democratic means of decision-making and expressing opinion on issues that are of key importance for the Nation’s future.

Moreover, it sustains this foundation for the 1973 Referendum, that is, both referendums display:

την πλέον γνησίαν και αβίαστον λαϊκήν ετυµηγορίαν εις ολόκληρον την Ελληνικήν πολιτικήν Ιστορίαν (2004: 238).

The most legitimate and unforced verdict of the people in all of Greek political History.

The importance of this alleged ‘democratic’ foundation is additionally supported through an analysis of Papadopoulos’s repetition of the terms democracy (δηµοκρατία, dimokratia) and Constitution (Σύνταγµα, Syntagma). While for much of the time, Papadopoulos either shows no clear preference, or allows one term to dominate for no clear reason, there are instances that appear to indicate he makes a choice based on audience composition and/or speech content. Democracy is repeated an average of 1.1-2 times per page when he addresses the foreign press in the lead-up to the first Referendum on the new Constitution (1968a: 10-15; 1968b: 10-17, 29-33, 163-71; 1969a: 66- 73). Comparatively, Constitution appears an average of 2.7-3.9 times per page in speeches to this group in the seven months prior to the 1968

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Referendum (1968b: 10-17, 29-33, 163-71; 1969a: 66-73).5 As the foreign press represented international opinion and was responsible for the portrayal of the regime overseas, it is not surprising that the ‘democratic’ nature of the regime be emphasised alongside its alleged ‘constitutional’ structure with this group. This conclusion is further supported by similar patterns in speeches to other representatives of international opinion. The term democracy appears an average of 3 times per page in speeches to German ministers who visited Greece in mid-1968 (1969a: 20-3) and an average of 1.7 times per page during an interview with the British Sunday Times (1970b: 156- 60).6 Its frequency is also prominent in the official dinner addresses for the International Exhibition in Thessaloniki (DET): averages of 1.9, 1.3 and 2.2 times per page, respectively (1969a: 48-52; 1970b: 17-22; 1972: 122-30).7 The repetition of both democracy and Constitution, naturally, increases in the official national addresses that preceded and followed both the 1968 and 1973 referendums. This is especially true of the term democracy, which experiences averages of 4.2 and 5.9 times per page in the pre- and post-Referendum addresses of 1968 (1969a: 79-82, 84-5, respectively) and averages of 4.3, 3.6 and 4 times per page in the pre- and post-Referendum addresses of 1973 (2004: 228-35, 238-9, 242-4, respectively). Further to this argument, representing the leadership in ‘democratic’ and ‘constitutional’ terms precludes its comparison with and classification as a dictatorship (δικτατορία, diktatoria)—the fusion of all things undemocratic and unconstitutional. Consequently, the term dictatorship

5 No speeches were made exclusively to the foreign press during the third phase; however, the increase of both terms in addresses to other audiences leading up to the 1973 Referendum (2004: 208-10, 211-4, 217-23) reflects a similar tendency. 6 The term is, however, notably absent from an interview with a Turkish journalist in May 1971 (1972: 92-5). 7 In the 37th DET, which occurred during the third phase, while democracy appears only 4 times in the 7.75-page speech, it appears only in the closing paragraphs (2004: 107-14).

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only appears in speeches where it is counter-balanced by a marked increase in the term democracy. The first time such a comparison is initiated is with the foreign press where he rejects the ‘label’ of a dictatorship (1968a: 81) and states emphatically that he does not want to be known as its ‘instructor’ (ibid., p. 87).8 Two months later, at the beginning of a speech to the Security Forces—wherein the terms Constitution and democracy both appear an average of once per page—Papadopoulos emphasises the same thing:

∆εν πρόκειται περί εγκαταστάσεως προσωποπαγούς καθεστώτος της µορφής των δικτατοριών. ∆εν πρόκειται περί καθεστώτος, το οποίον ήλθε να αστυνοµεύση τας ελευθερίας του Ελληνικού Λαού και να του επιβάλη, παρά την θέλησίν του, µίαν διακυβέρηνησιν υπό ατόµων ή οµάδος ατόµων (1968a: 131).

It is not about establishing a personal regime of dictatorial form. It is not about a regime that came to police the freedoms of the Greek People and impose on them, against their will, a governing by individuals or a group of individuals.

Once again, he calls attention to the shared endeavour guided by the leadership by focusing on the idea that it does not represent a ‘personal’ regime—a fact that is reemphasised in the concluding paragraphs of this speech (ibid., p. 137) and again on the eve of the 1973 Referendum (2004: 228). Instead, he suggests, it represents ‘a lawful and political fact’ (2004: 232). A similar reference appears in a second address to the Security Forces; however, this time, by utilising contrasting pairs ‘x is not a; x is b’, the alternative of what the leadership does constitute is presented alongside what it does not:

8 In a later press address, Papadopoulos does reconcile himself to the fact that the press view him as a ‘dictator’ and not as a ‘governor’ (1970b: 29), though he elaborates on why this view is not, in fact, the ‘reality’ of the situation.

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∆εν ήλθοµεν ως δικτατορία, δια να αποµονώσωµεν πάντα, ο οποίος θα ετίθετο αντίθετος προς την άποψίν µας. Ήλθοµεν ως Επανάστασις. Ήλθοµεν, δια να οδηγήσωµεν τον Ελληνικόν Λαόν δι’ επαναστατικών µεθόδων (1968a: 142).

We did not come as a dictatorship to isolate those who would oppose our view. We came as a Revolution. We came to guide the Greek People through revolutionary methods.

Just as the other rhetorical formula ‘x is not a, or b or c. x is d’ was shown to develop over time, so too does this: while the ‘a’ component continues to represent the negatively laden term dictatorship, the ‘b’ component begins to represent a more active example of the leadership’s importance, aim and perseverance. Thus, in speeches to the Greek and foreign press (1968b: 30) and in the dinner message at the 33rd DET (1969a: 51), the leadership comes not as a dictatorship but rather to ‘purify public life’—or, as he puts it on the eve of the 1973 Referendum:

[για] την εκπλήρωσιν επαναστατικής αποστολής προς Πολιτικήν, Οικονοµικήν, ∆ιοικητικήν και Κοινωνικήν εξυγίανσιν (2004: 228).

in fulfillment of the revolutionary mission towards Political, Economic, Administrative and Social purification.

During the second phase, Papadopoulos disowns the label of a dictatorship only once: during an address to lawyers (1969b: 148) where the terms democracy and Constitution also find prominence—an average of 0.9 and 2.3 times per page, respectively (1969b: 143-50). He does continue, however, to utilise contrasting pairs to deny dictatorial

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characteristics. He assures his ministers that the method through which the Revolution will address any endeavour against it:

δεν είναι η αστυνοµική. Είναι η γνωστή σας µέθοδος, η µέθοδος η πολιτική (1969a: 17).

is not the police [method]. It is the method you know, the method of politics.

In fact, he qualifies politics by asserting that:

η Επανάστασις, κύριοι, δεν κάµνει πολιτικήν κοµµατικήν. Η Επανάστασις κάµνει πολιτικήν εθνικήν (1969a: 153). (Emphasis added.)

the Revolution, gentlemen, does not do party politics. The Revolution does national politics.

He continues to emphasise his regime’s ‘non-political’ nature in a later address:

∆εν έχοµεν, κύριοι, ιδιότυπον πολιτικόν συµφέρον. Λέγοµεν και πρέπει να το πιστεύωµεν αυτό, ότι, µοναδικόν µας συµφέρον είναι να εξυπηρετήσωµεν τον Ελληνικόν λαόν (2004: 52).

Gentlemen, we do not have a particular political interest. We say, and we have to believe this, that our only interest is to serve the Greek people.

Towards the end of the third phase of the dictatorship, Papadopoulos again attempts to re-qualify his regime by denying a dictatorship and proposing a revolution. It is relevant that this re-qualification comes in the opening paragraphs of the speech he delivers to the nation prior to the

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1973 Referendum on the new Constitution—a time where a reassessment of the ‘unique’ qualities inherent in his leadership would have been deemed necessary:

Μερικοί [την Επανάστασιν] την είδαν ως εν από τα κινήµατα, τα τόσον συνήθη εις την Ελλάδα. Αλλά δεν ήτο κίνηµα. Ήτο επανάστασις [και] αι επαναστάσεις εκφράζουν εις µίαν δεδοµένην στιγµήν καθολικήν ανάγκην (2004: 228).

Some saw [the Revolution] as one of various coups to which Greece has been so accustomed. But it was not a coup. It was a revolution [and] revolutions express a general need at a given moment.

Thus, by using a rhetorical strategy of directly contrasting negative associations with positive ones—dictatorship v. democracy, through the police v. through politics, party politics v. national politics, personal/political interests v. those of the Greek people—Papadopoulos is at once able to acknowledge these negative associations by presenting them, disowning them, and then representing the leadership as their polar opposite. A lexical choice between the terms Government (Κυβέρνησις, Kyvernisis) and Revolution (Επανάστασις, Epanastasis) also uncovers what characteristics Papadopoulos attributes to the leadership in his interpretation of it, and to what audiences. The use of the term Government implies a legally and democratically elected leadership; therefore, one might expect this term to dominate in the addresses previously discussed where democracy dominated. Conversely, the use of the term Revolution denotes a massive, people-based movement for a definitive and necessary change in the present, absolved from all the deficiencies of the recent past, and necessary for the nation to prosper in the future. Furthermore, Papadopoulos’s specific use of the term

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Revolution aims at defining the regime as another (yet unique) historical milestone in a 3,000-year continuum of Greek glory.9 It was anticipated, therefore, that this term would dominate in addresses to groups that Papadopoulos immediately associated with such historical moments in the past (i.e., the Armed Forces, Security Forces, veterans and invalids of war) and groups that, in his eyes, represented the continuum for the future (i.e., students and the youth). These initial expectations, however, were not consistently supported by the quantitative data. Firstly, he makes no distinction between the aims of the Government and the Revolution (1968a: 96; 2004: 24) and notes that policies are enacted in the name of both of them (1968a: 105; 1969a: 167). The Government, however, is said to represent the Revolution (1968b: 26; 1970b: 30, 175; 2004: 29, 110)—specifically, its representatives are the ‘bearers of the Revolutionary spirit’ (1968a: 75; 1968b: 15, 29, 48, 163; 1970b: 27). Even though there is a noted repetition of the term democracy in addresses to the Greek and foreign press, there is no indication that Papadopoulos favours the use of the more ‘democratically’ imbued Government with this group. For every speech where Revolution is the dominant representation (1968b: 29-33; 1969a: 66-73), another speech can be found where the opposite is true (1968b: 10-17, 163-71). Certain exceptions in the dominance of a particular term, however, can be predictably indicative of Papadopoulos’s reaction to an event. In the short speech which immediately followed the King’s counter-coup in December 1967, the term Government appears an average of 4.7 times per page, whereas the term Revolution appears an average of only 1.5 times per page (1968a: 94-5). Such extreme action from the King brought an equally extreme linguistic reaction from Papadopoulos. Thus, the

9 For a detailed discussion of the Revolution used as a date-marker, thereby facilitating Papadopoulos’s underlying principle of a cyclical narrative, see Chapter 2.3.2.

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‘democratic’ nature of the regime needed to be stressed and the regime’s ‘governmental’ tendencies became lexically dominant. This is also true of the speech that Papadopoulos delivers to the nation and the press regarding the torture allegations Greece faced under the Council of Europe and its consequent withdrawal from this body: Government appears twice as many times as Revolution (1970b: 64-75). The frequency of the term Government in addresses to overseas representatives and Greeks living abroad during the early years of the dictatorship would indicate that he makes a concerted effort to stress the ‘democratic’ nature of the regime to those of perceived influence overseas. In fact, he frequently presents the Government to these groups with the addition of two very emotive adjectives: national (εθνική, ethniki) and Greek (ελληνική, elliniki) (1969a: 35, 61, 61; 1969b: 95; 1970a: 37, 195, 196, 202; 1970b: 10, 49, 83, 85, 108, 131; 1972: 12, 14, 24, 82, 99, 110, 112, 138, 152, 165, 167). By qualifying the democratic (Government) with adjectives denoting a unified national entity with a shared history, culture and religion (national and Greek), he represents his regime as an amalgam of all these qualities, and does so, predominantly, to the international public. Furthermore, this amalgam always appears at the beginning or end of a speech, thereby affording greater weight to the combined representation. In addresses to overseas representatives, two exceptions are worth mentioning. Firstly, in a speech to visiting German Ministers, the term Revolution appears an average of 6.3 times per page, whereas the term Government only appears once every three pages (1969a: 20-3). Similarly, in earlier addresses at the DETs (1969a: 48-52; 1970b: 10, 12-15; 1972: 117), Revolution clearly dominates over Government. As previously noted, both of these speeches also contain a high frequency of democracy. It appears, therefore, that Papadopoulos also stresses the historical uniqueness of the Revolution alongside its ‘democratic’ nature. Thus, the

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regime as a necessary, legal, and glorious moment in history is an image that is also reinforced. While this combination of Revolution and democracy is shared by other previously mentioned speeches (1969b: 143-50), it is particularly prominent in an early address to the Security Forces, at an average of 1.9 times per page (1968a: 131-7) and in an early address to war veterans, at a very high average of 7.9 times per page (1968a: 36-9). In both these speeches, however, the term Government does not appear more than twice. This tendency is not noted in earlier addresses to the Armed Forces, with whom a commonality of experience clearly exists; therefore, an important distinction must be considered. Though the Armed Forces had indeed been subject to countless purges, forced resignations and demotions since the dictatorship took power in April 1967, the regime could not rely on the Armed Forces’ collective adherence to dictatorial method and policy. This is especially true when two additional factors are considered. Firstly, the split within the junta hierarchy manifested itself from very early on. Secondly, the Navy’s traditional allegiance to King Constantine was assumed, prior to its being proved in the King’s abortive counter-coup of December 1968 and in the mutiny of May 1972. Thus, one might conclude that the stressed uniqueness of a Revolution would not be as potentially relevant to this group. Conversely, the Security Forces were dominated by the right and right-wing practices for decades. They were in charge of the country’s day- to-day security and were dispersed into its every facet. They were more familiar with the workings of the state and the systematic collection of information on dissidents and quickly became subject to those loyal to the junta. Thus, the dominance during the early years of Revolution is vindicated with this group, as they became the leadership’s homogenous representatives.

120 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.1 – Defining the Leadership

These data, however, are inverted from the end of 1969: Revolution is not used at all with war veterans (1970b: 44-5) or the Security Forces (1970a: 116-21) and is the sole term used to define the leadership with the Armed Forces (1970a: 32, 207; 1970b: 47, 77, 89, 110; 1972: 18, 47, 69, 74, 148; 2004: 45, 197). The prevalence of speeches to the Armed Forces in the latter part of the second phase and during the third phase certainly must be considered alongside the comparative decline in addresses to war veterans and the Security Forces during the same period. Definite conclusions, therefore, cannot depend solely on these data. Rather, what is significant is that during the latter part of the second phase and during the third phase, speeches to the Armed Forces were given almost exclusively on days commemorating the military prowess of Greeks, noteworthy struggles in history—such as National Independence Day (25 March) and Ochi Day (28 October)—or moments deemed by Papadopoulos as historically significant in the present (21 April). Thus, the ‘revolutionary’ fervour became more pronounced both literally, in the increased repetition of the term Revolution, and metaphorically, in that these speeches were delivered in celebration of victorious achievements of the past or those seen by Papadopoulos as achievements of the present. Additionally, during this period, Papadopoulos would increasingly qualify Revolution with the adjective national; thereby further enforcing the idea of a culturally and historically unified endeavour in the present. There is clearly a tendency, therefore, to appeal to the ‘revolutionary’ consciousness of armed struggle, protection of the nation and the historical symbolism inherent in Revolution rather than defining the leadership through a political doctrine of Government. In fact, in the latter part of the second phase and during the third phase, Papadopoulos noticeably ceases to refer to the leadership as a Government during anniversary speeches to other audiences as well. Instead, he prefers to combine the term Revolution with an increased frequency of the term

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democracy (1970b: 42, 47, 87, 89, 106, 110, 112-4; 1972: 18, 20, 69, 71- 2, 74, 76-8, 114-5, 148; 2004: 45, 65-6, 197, 199-200). Contrastingly, when the agricultural sector is addressed, the frequency of Government is equal to or dominates that of Revolution. To this group, he appears to focus on the ‘governmental’ nature of the regime; a factor that is also reflected in legislature that outwardly favoured the ‘class of toil’—a class from which he derived, with which he connected and, as will be recalled, to which he drew personal parallels. Such positive policy changes also explain the dominance of the term Government when addressing the merchant marine and shipowners (1968b: 51-4; 1969b: 152-7; 2004: 205-6) and industrialists (1969b: 134-41, 159-62; 1972: 65). Hence, these groups are distinguished from other professional groups (bankers, lawyers, public servants, and representatives of technology, desalination and health) as examples favouring the term Government, and both groups benefited from favourable legislature during the dictatorship. In conclusion, representations of the leadership serve the underlying concept of unification by presenting the leadership as a shared endeavour and not an individual one. Importantly, according to Papadopoulos, the Revolution was not only nationally desired and representative of a national movement, but it was democratically approved. Consequently, as a democracy and with a Constitution, the leadership cannot be defined as a dictatorship or a ‘political-party state’. Furthermore, the army’s initial role in the coup is justified as an action taken on behalf of the Greek people. Similarly, Papadopoulos presents himself as a mere representative of the collective—albeit the ideal one. A study of the complementary lexicon and specific rhetorical formulae supports this definition of the leadership and considers Papadopoulos’s tendencies among groups over time. The ‘democratic’ and ‘constitutional’ nature of the leadership is underlined through the repetition of the terms democracy (and its direct contrast to the term dictatorship) and

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Constitution in addresses to the representatives of public opinion overseas, particularly, in the lead-up to both referendums. Moreover, a representation of the leadership as a ‘democratically’ established Government—often qualified with the terms national and Greek, which express a historical, cultural, and religious homogeny—is favoured in speeches not only to overseas representatives, but also to sectors that benefited from favourable new legislature of the regime: agriculture, industry, and the merchant marine and shipping. Equally, however, the repetition of the terms democracy and Constitution accompany a propensity to represent the leadership as a Revolution, suggesting that Papadopoulos insistently presents the leadership as both historically unique and democratically legitimated—a representation that is especially favoured in speeches to war veterans, the Security Forces and, later, to the Armed Forces. In fact, the average figures for the repetition of the term Government are lower than those of Revolution across all phases of the dictatorship—cf. the respective per-page averages of 0.85 and 1.2 times during the first phase; 0.22 and 0.49 times during the second phase; and 0.52 and 0.89 times during the third phase. It appears, therefore, that the presentation of the leadership that is generally most favoured by Papadopoulos is the historically unique, people-based one: a Revolution. This concept forms the basis of his cyclical narrative—a narrative that will be discussed in full according to lexical tendencies in Chapters 2.3 and 2.4 and according to medical and biological analogies in Chapters 3.3 and 3.4.

123 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity1

Ιδού εποµένως η Μεγάλη Ελλάς. Είναι η Ελλάς του ελληνικού και χριστιανικού πνεύµατος. Είναι η Ελλάς του ελληνικού και χριστιανικού πολιτισµού (1968b: 173).

Behold, therefore, Great Greece. It is Greece of the Greek and Christian spirit. It is Greece of the Greek and Christian civilisation.

This chapter examines the contextuality of Papadopoulos’s linguistic choices in lexically defining the ethnocommunity, by analysing specific terminology, its repetition, its position within each speech, and its adaptation among targeted groups. It considers specific historical and cultural representations inherent in terms such as nation (έθνος, ethnos), Greece (Ελλάς, Ellas), fatherland (πατρίς, patris), people (λαός, ) and state (κράτος, kratos) and analyses the relevance of these associations in lexically representing the ethnocommunity. Furthermore, it discusses how such concepts are enhanced through the repetition of other terms and expressions that stress the historic and religious foundation of the present ethnocommunity: Great Greece (Μεγάλη Ελλάς, Megali Ellas), Helleno- Christianity (ελληνοχριστιανισµός, ellinochristianismos) and Greece of the Greek Christians (Ελλάς Ελλήνων Χριστιανών, Ellas Ellinon Christianon). An examination of the repetition of the word nation (έθνος, ethnos) and its adjective national (εθνικός, ethnikos) reveal interesting patterns across audiences and over time. It will be recalled from the

1 ‘Ethnocommunity’ has been chosen purposefully to reflect the associations inherent in, yet avoid the exclusive use of, the terminology used by Papadopoulos to define the Greek people, as a collective, pan-global group with a shared history, culture and religion. 124 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

historical overview in Part One that the word national has been used to qualify both sides of the in Greece’s recent history.2 Hence, Papadopoulos’s reiteration of the ‘σφυρηλάτησι[ς] της εθνικής ενότητος’ (forging of national unity) (1968a: 105) is hardly unique; however, the representation’s underlying principles of homogeneity, unity and its automatic association with ‘national’ achievements of the more recent past remain valid. Papadopoulos’s determinants in favouring nation and national across audiences appear to be a shared speech content or a perceived group context; over time, these particular representations dominate during the first and third phases of the dictatorship. Nation and national become noticeably more frequent in speeches that aim at celebrating ‘glorious’ moments in Greece’s history. For example, in five addresses celebrating National Independence Day (25 March), they appear an average of 13, 7, 4.8, 2 and 9 times per page (1968b: 70; 1970b: 87-9; 1972: 69-72; 2004: 45, 197, respectively). In five addresses celebrating Ochi Day (28 October), they appear an average of 5.7, 4.5, 4, 10 and 7.2 times per page (1969a: 102-107; 1970b: 42-5; 1972: 18-20, 148; 2004: 120-1, respectively). Similarly, these words are repeated an average of 3.7 times per page in an early speech to professionals regarding the benefits of the Truman Doctrine in post-war Greece (1968a: 27-34) and in very high frequency in five speeches celebrating the military prowess of Greeks: averages of 10, 2.3, 5.8, 7 and 4 times per page (1968b: 176-8; 1970a: 207-8; 1970b: 164-5; 1972: 114-5; 2004: 97-8, respectively).3

2 Cf. EAM and ELAS’s titles during WW2 and the Civil War, George Papandreou’s ‘Government of National Unity’ post-WW2 and Karamanlis’s ‘Government of National Unity’ post-dictatorship. 3 It should be noted that in speeches celebrating the military prowess of Greeks, Papadopoulos honours only those he describes as the National Resistance; that is, those who participated on the Albanian front in 1940-1, members of wartime organisations, and those who fought against EAM and ELAS during the Civil War. 125 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

Considering Papadopoulos’s previously noted representation of the Revolution as another worthy moment of Greece’s history, other speeches that focused directly on the regime’s perceived benefits, success and its ultimate plan for Greece’s future also reflect this ‘celebratory’ context. Thus, in 21 April anniversary speeches, nation and national occur with above-average frequency: six averages of 4.3, 1.9, 3.4, 6.3, 3 and 3.6 times per page (1968b: 112-4; 1970a: 34-7; 1970b: 106, 110-14; 1972: 74-8; 2004: 65-70, 199-200, respectively). They are favoured in the national addresses that preceded and followed both the 1968 Referendum—an average of 5.1 and 3.5, respectively (1969a: 79-82, 84-5)—and the 1973 Referendum—an average of 3.2 and 2.7, respectively (2004: 228-35, 238-9). Similarly, addresses that were delivered at the turn of the year, which inevitably aimed at ‘celebrating’ the regime’s present successes and its certain future, also favour the repetition of nation and national, with six averages of 7, 6, 3.5, 2.9, 10.9 and 3 times per page (1968a: 104-5; 1969a: 166-7; 1970b: 77-81; 1972: 49-50, 182; 2004: 16-17, 165-6, respectively). The tendency to represent the ethnocommunity with nation and national—thereby inexorably linking it to and unquestionably uniting it in past, present and future historical glories—also permeates addresses to the Armed Forces (1969b: 36; 1970b: 47; 1972: 47), war veterans (1968a: 36-9) and the Security Forces (1968a: 131-7, 138- 43). This representation is also favoured in speeches to governmental ministers or organisations (1968a: 66-7, 99-102, 145-6; 1970b: 143- 6; 1972: 29; 2004: 208-10, 217-23). Though by no means consistent, this pattern among these sectors indicates an additional tendency to increase the use of these terms in speeches that address groups who, according to Papadopoulos, actively participated and/or continue to be directly involved in the struggle for the survival, advancement,

126 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

protection and maintenance of the ethnocommunity under the guidance of the regime. Nation and national are also consistently favoured in speeches to the educational sector—an average of 5.66, 2.7, 2.25, 2.73 and 1.5 times, respectively (1968a: 110-2, 148-58; 1968b: 56-62, 64-8; 2004: 177-86). While they certainly dominate over all other representations of the ethnocommunity with this sector, this pattern emerges only during the first and third phases of the dictatorship and, then, predominantly during the former. Intellectuals and educationalists represented one of the most vocal groups against the regime; therefore, one could argue, Papadopoulos, recognising this, was particularly concerned with emphasising the unity of the nation by repeating this representation to those he felt were the most wary of the new regime, and especially in the initial stages of the dictatorship. Once the dictatorship progressed into its second phase, the purging of this sector assured the dominance of the party faithful or, at the very least, acquiescence amongst them; therefore, the need to continuously use terminology that suggested unity and historical continuity, was not as paramount. Thus, the repetition of nation and national ceases to be as dominant. During the third phase, however, when this sector began to pose a very vocal and collective threat against the regime, Papadopoulos had a need to return to emphasising the importance of the ethnocommunity’s unity and the historical continuity that the regime allegedly offered. Hence, nation and national again increase in frequency. Papadopoulos’s repetition of the word Greece (Ελλάς, Ellas), and its adjective Greek (ελληνικός, ellinikos), uncovers similar patterns in his presentation of the ethnocommunity.4 As these words are used to express the geographical region, their high frequency is to be expected

4 Only instances that use Greek as an adjective and not as the noun describing the citizen are considered. 127 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

in almost all speeches; however, the use of this representation additionally recalls a shared cultural and religious history, and one that includes the grandeur of both Classical Greece and Byzantium. As with nation and national, the same patterns appear over time: Greece is particularly favoured during the first phase of the dictatorship—an average of 3.1 times per page—and, then, only among particular sectors. For example, this representation appears an average of 5 times per page in the majority of addresses to the education sector (1968a: 110-2, 148-58; 1968b: 64-8, 79-88) and an average of 4 times per page in addresses to scientists and lawyers (1968a: 122-3, 128-9, respectively) only during the first phase. The relatively high frequency of both nation and Greece during the first phase of the dictatorship also typifies speeches to the agricultural sector. Nation appears an average of 1.8, 2.1, 1.3 and 1.9, respectively (1968a: 72-6; 1968b: 35-41, 90-6, 98-100), while Greece spikes to an average of 4.5 times per page in the months surrounding the announcement of the abolition of farmers’ debts, from March to June 1968 (1968b: 35-41, 90-6, 98-100, 121-7, 151-2, 159). This latter figure is in sharp contrast to speeches delivered prior to and after this time, where Greece appears an average of only once per page (1968a: 72-6; 1969a: 37-40). Such a distinct pattern within a chronological context is noteworthy when this targeted group is considered. The abolition of farmers’ debts was the key selling point for the regime during the first phase of the dictatorship and, clearly, the homogeneity of the group became an important factor in cementing the government’s key policy action towards it. Greece encounters a resurgence in speeches during the third phase, where it averages 2.1 times per page, and this too is reflected only in speeches to particular sectors. For example, its repetition in speeches to shipowners and the merchant marine begins with an

128 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

exceptionally high average of 15 times per page (1968b: 51-4) during the first phase. During the second phase, its average drops significantly to 3.8, 2.9 and 3.2 times per page, respectively (1969b: 152-7; 1970b: 126-9; 2004: 38-40) and during the third phase, the frequency of Greece comes close to its first-phase figures, with an average of 12.1 times per page (2004: 205-6). These findings become all the more significant when Papadopoulos’s presentation of the term Greece with the adjective great (µεγάλη, megali) is considered. The expression Great Greece (Μεγάλη Ελλάς, Megali Ellas) finds special prominence in speeches to shipowners and the merchant marine. It is additionally favoured in speeches to Greeks living abroad—a group who also experience an increase of nation (1968a: 52-3; 1968b: 173-4; 1969a: 61, respectively) and a consistently high repetition of Greece (1968a: 52-3; 1968b: 110, 173-4; 1969a: 25-6, 61, 160). Though Great Greece, or , refers to ancient Greek colonies founded from the 8th to the 5th Centuries BCE—especially those of southern Italy—Papadopoulos’s use of this expression should not be considered literally. Instead, what he attempts to do is parallel the present ethnocommunity to a different celebrated moment in Greece’s more recent history: the Great Idea (Μεγάλη Ιδέα, ). The Great Idea was an irredentist movement that dominated the foreign policy of the newly independent Greek state from the mid- 1800s until the early 1920s. It aimed at extending Greece’s geographic borders to incorporate the Greek people of adjoining lands into a Hellenic state, with Constantinople as its capital.5 By paralleling his

5 Papadopoulos’s definition of the Great Idea does, however, revisit a more distant history:

Από τον χώρον [της Θεσσαλονίκης] εξεκίνησαν το πρώτον, προ χιλιάδων ετών, οι συλλαβόντες και πραγµατοποιήσαντες την έννοιαν της Μεγάλης Ιδέας της Ενότητος του Ελληνισµού, Φίλιππος και Αλέξανδρος (1968a: 110). 129 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

notion of Great Greece with that of the Great Idea, he attempts to define the ethnocommunity in the present as a culturally homogenous, historically glorious and geographically united one— though he is careful to qualify his vision as one that is symbolic, rather than an actual irredentist claim:

∆εν είναι ιµπεριαλιστική η έκφρασις της Μεγάλης Ελλάδος, δεν είναι τουλάχιστον σήµερον, δεν είναι δια το µέλλον. Και εάν συµβολικώς, [...] αναµένοµεν τον ιεράρχην και τον µαρµαρωµένο βασιλιά, τους αναµένοµεν ως µύστας της Μεγάλης Ιδέας του Έθνους (1968b: 173).

The expression of Great Greece is not imperialistic, at least not , or for the future. And if, symbolically, [...] we await the hierarch and the emperor turned to stone, we await them as ideal proponents of the Great Idea of the Nation.6

Moreover, as was stated, such definitions appear predominantly with just two groups: the merchant marine and shipowners, and Greeks living abroad. This is, as Papadopoulos stresses, because it is these groups alone who uphold and continue to actualise the essence of Great Greece (1968b: 51) and the expression of Great Idea in the nation by fostering it in every corner of the world (2004: 94, 205, 247). He renames the 19th Lay-Clerical Conference of Greek-Americans, the

Thousands of years ago, those who conceived and realised the concept of the Great Idea of the Unity of Hellenism—Phillip and Alexander—first set out from the area [of Thessaloniki).

The importance of Papadopoulos’s presentation of this expression, however, lies not in its literal use, or more appropriately, its misuse, but in that he consistently uses it to represent a unified ethnocommunity that is pan-global and pan-epochal. 6 This reference is to Emperor Constantine (Paleologos) XI who died at his post prior to the fall of Constantinople to the Ottomans in 1453. Legend has it he did not die, but was turned to stone and would remain so until the second coming of Byzantium, where Greeks would reign supreme over the Ottoman invaders and Constantinople would once again become the rightful capital of the Greek world. 130 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

‘Conference of Great Greece’ (1968b: 174), addresses the merchant marine as the ‘representative council of Great Greece’ (1968b: 51) and tells shipowners that they are ‘the materialisation of the meaning of Great Greece’ (2004: 39, 40). He asserts that it is these groups that have given Greece the ability and strength to achieve the dream of Great Greece once more (1968b: 52; 2004: 39)—a dream which he implores them to unveil as a ‘reality’, of which today more than ever the Nation has a need (1968b: 51). Thus, these groups are the representatives of a pan-global notion of Greece and Papadopoulos:

[ο] Πρωθυπουργό[ς] της Χώρας Πατρίδος της Μεγάλης Ελλάδος (2004: 38).

the Prime Minister of the Country Fatherland of Great Greece.

This expression is initially presented as a ‘pledge’ to the Security Forces a month after the King’s counter-coup (1968a: 143). Its appearance here is relevant for two reasons. Firstly, it followed a need for Papadopoulos verbally to reunify Greece under his banner—a banner that likened the present success of overcoming the King’s attempt to past feats, where other enemies of the ethnocommunity were overcome. Secondly, this comparison was made to an audience whose allegiance to the regime could be practically guaranteed; therefore, Papadopoulos was largely preaching to the converted. The fundamental importance of Great Greece, however, is the dream of all Greeks (1968b: 51); therefore, the concept appears in addresses to various other groups throughout the dictatorship (1968a: 149; 1968b: 23, 49, 53, 77, 118-9; 1969b: 176, 203; 1970b: 22; 1972: 43; 2004: 33) and usually at the end of each speech, thereby accentuating its rhetorical value. The notion, Papadopoulos argues, ‘υπάρχει ιστορικώς και αισθηµατικώς εις την ψυχήν του Ελληνικού

131 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

Έθνους’ (exists historically and emotionally in the soul of the Greek Nation) (1968b: 53). The presentation of the ethnocommunity as homogenous, united and historically grounded can also be shown through an examination of the repetition of Helleno-Christianity (ελληνοχριστιανισµός, ellinochristianismos) and its adjective. From his very first speeches, Papadopoulos introduces his audiences to the importance of the ideals of Helleno-Christianity; that is, the intrinsic foundations of a unique social, cultural, religious, and spiritual ‘cradle’ of history, which grounds the present ethnocommunity. While its frequency across speeches is comparatively low, it is distinctly favoured during the first phase.7 When audience composition is the variable, the results from an analysis of this representation show few distinct patterns. For example, Helleno-Christianity is repeated to the press in earlier addresses (1968a: 10, 17; 1968b: 163-7), to professionals regarding the benefits of the Truman Doctrine in post-war Greece (1968a: 27- 34), to war veterans (1968a: 36-9), to the educational sector (1968a: 110-2; 1968b: 79-88), on the first anniversary of the dictatorship (1968b: 112-4), to the clergy (1969b: 38-9) and to the citizens of Patras (1968b: 144-9, 151-2, 154-5), (1969b: 75-82), Thessaloniki (1969b: 84-93) and the (1969b: 95). It is also repeated once in a speech to the nation celebrating Naval Week (1970a: 171). These findings, however, are not maintained among audiences over time. While Papadopoulos is not consistent in his repetition of Helleno- Christianity to Greeks living abroad, its presence is noteworthy if his aforementioned propensity to favour nation, Greece and Great Greece is also considered among this audience. Contextually, therefore, it is

7 Cf. the overall average of 0.08 times per page during the first phase, with the overall averages of 0.01 during the second and no times at all during the third. 132 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

appropriate that he reminds this group that should the ‘Greek and Christian spirit’ (1968b: 173) not be preserved by the ethnocommunity, ‘δεν είναι δυνατόν να ζήσουν οι άνθρωποι’ (it is not possible for humans to live) (1969a: 25). Furthermore, he wishes the overseas participants well in the aims of their conference, but more importantly:

επί καλώ του σκοπού της ανθρωπότητος, του σκοπού της επιβιώσεως, της αναπτύξεως και της ανατάσεως του αθανάτου ελληνοχριστιανικού πνεύµατος (1969a: 26).

for the sake of the aim of humanity, of the aim of survival, of development and of the elevation of the immortal Helleno- Christian spirit.

The data from a speech to students in Thessaloniki (1968b: 79- 88) also present a significant finding: the repetition of Helleno- Christianity to this group reinforces a new slogan: the ideal of Greece of the Greek Christians (Ελλάς Ελλήνων Χριστιανών, Ellas Ellinon Christianon):

∆εν νοµίζω ότι θα ηδύνατο να εύρη διαφορετική διατύπωσιν το ιδανικόν των Ελλήνων σήµερον από την έκφρασιν: «Ελλάς Ελλήνων Χριστιανών». Και αυτό δίδω σήµερον ως σκοπόσηµον δια τον Ελληνικόν Λαόν, ως σκοπόν της Επαναστάσεως της 21ης Απριλίου (1968b: 85).

I do not believe that a different expression of the ideal of Greeks could be found today, other than the expression: ‘Greece of the Greek Christians’. And I offer this today as the objective for the Greek People, as the aim of the Revolution of the 21st April.

133 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

This notorious slogan of the dictatorship asserts the shared historical, cultural and national homogeneity (Greece of the Greeks) of the ethnocommunity, while, at the same time, reinforcing the relevance and importance of religion (of the Christians) as an equally dominant component of its identity. It was only used a handful of times by Papadopoulos in his speeches, only during the first phase of the dictatorship and only to select groups. At the end of the two speeches to the agricultural sector announcing the abolition of farmers’ debts, Papadopoulos assures his audience that:

ουδείς θα ηδύνατο να έχη αµφιβολίαν ότι η Ελλάς θα ζήση και θα ζη πάντα ως η Ελλάς των Ελλήνων Χριστιανών (1968b: 94).

no-one can doubt that Greece will live and will live always as Greece of the Greek Christians.

And he invites it:

όχι µόνον να µη ξεχάσετε, αλλά και να αναφωνήσετε: Ελλάς Ελλήνων Χριστιανών! (1968b: 100).

not only to remember, but also to exclaim: Greece of the Greek Christians!

Recalling that the frequency of both nation and Greece increases in speeches to this sector at this time, Papadopoulos’s lexical choice according to both audience and chronology becomes evident once more. Thus, an ideal ethnocommunity united in a shared history, religion and culture is presented at a time of key policy change within the agricultural sector.

134 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

The ideal of Greece of the Greek Christians underpins his dinner message at the 33rd DET (1969a: 48-52). Here, his elaboration of the ideal is quite pronounced and the unity involved in realising the ideal is stressed as paramount:

Όλοι εποµένως έχοµεν ανάγκην καθάρσεως, όλοι πρέπει να αντιληφθώµεν τας αδυναµίας του παρελθόντος, όλοι πρέπει να απαλλάξωµεν τους εαυτούς µας από τας αδυναµίας αυτάς και όλοι πρέπει να αναγεννηθώµεν ίνα, ως οδηγοί αλλά και σκαπανείς της νέας Ελλάδος, επιτύχωµεν να πραγµατώσωµεν το όνειρο των Ελλήνων: Την ευδαιµονούσαν Ελλάδα των Ελλήνων Χριστιανών (1969a: 49).

We all, therefore, have a need for purification, we all must be aware of the weaknesses of the past, we all must release ourselves from these weaknesses and we all must be reborn, so that as guides and pioneers of the new Greece, we may achieve the realisation of the dream of the Greeks: The prosperous Greece of the Greek Christians.

The repetition of ‘we all must’ emphasises the importance of the collective nature of the ethnocommunity, while, at the same time, creating a list of actions, which lead to one specific conclusion: the ideal of Greece of the Greek Christians. The necessary creation of a new Greece, which is to be discussed at length in Chapter 2.4, is stressed again in the closing paragraphs of this speech:

Είναι τούτο [δηλ. η αυτοθυσία των Ελλήνων] ανάγκη, δια να επιτύχωµεν την δηµιουργίαν της νέας, µεγάλης, ευδαίµονος, ενδόξου Ελλάδος των Ελλήνων Χριστιανών (1969a: 52).

135 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

This [i.e., the Greeks’ self-sacrifice] is necessary so that we can achieve the creation of a new, great, prosperous, glorious Greece of the Greek Christians.

An unquestionable link to the past and a historical responsibility to uphold the same fundamental qualities in the present and the future is a notion also evoked with the repetition of fatherland.8 While this representation certainly incorporates the historical, social and religious unity inherent in nation, Greece and Greece of the Greek Christians, it also prescribes the ethnocommunity’s immediate and necessary allegiance to these associations. Interestingly, and conversely to the previously examined terms and representations, fatherland dominates during the third phase of the dictatorship.9 Thus, the importance of emphasising the ethnocommunity’s allegiance to its historical, social and religious foundation during the last few years of his dictatorship indicates that Papadopoulos deemed this link more necessary at a time where public organised opposition to the regime, both nationally and internationally, was most vigorous. Nonetheless, the motivation to create an allegiance among the ethnocommunity appears to guide his repetition of fatherland in speeches across all phases. Papadopoulos appears to favour the repetition of the term in speeches that aimed at highlighting why an allegiance to the present regime was essential among particular components of the ethnocommunity. For example, the term fatherland is favoured with above-average frequency only in a speech to public servants where the reorganisation of their sector under the leadership of the current

8 In the examination of the term fatherland, the following terms are considered: πατρίς (fatherland), πατριώτης (patriot), and πατριωτικός (patriotic). 9 Though fatherland occurs with a comparatively low frequency, the overall third- phase average of 0.63 times per page is 25% higher than that of the first phase, and 40% higher than that of the second phase. 136 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

regime is in focus (1968b: 43-9). Similarly, the only speech to the agricultural sector in which fatherland has any prominence is one regarding the announcement of the abolition of farmers’ debts (1968b: 90-6).10 There is a tendency to increase the repetition of fatherland also among targeted groups. For example, students and the educational sector—a group that increasingly opposed this very allegiance to the regime—are repeatedly told that their fatherland needs their motivation and drive (1968a: 148-58; 1968b: 56-62, 64-8, 79-88; 1972: 62-3, 71-2, 105-8; 2004: 32-6, 187-94) because:

εις το κάτω-κάτω της γραφής, η Πατρίδα είναι περισσότερον ιδική σας και ολιγώτερον ιδική µας (2004: 35).

after all, the Fatherland is more yours and less ours.

Their objective is to actualise Greece as ‘the Fatherland of future Fatherlands’ (1968a: 154); indeed, their ‘obligation’ to do this goes straight to the heart of Papadopoulos’s cyclical narrative of past, present and future Greece and will become clearer in Chapter 2.4. Similarly, in speeches to the Armed Forces he is quite consistent in representing the ethnocommunity as the fatherland, particularly in speeches celebrating national anniversaries (1969a: 102, 167; 1969b: 36, 73; 1970b: 89; 1972: 18, 47, 74, 182; 2004: 197)—an occasion where allegiance to the glories of an ethnocommunity is deemed most relevant. The Armed Forces are told that their Fatherland (his capitalisation) will always need their readiness and bravery (1969a:

10 For the most part, any tendency to increase the repetition of fatherland among other targeted groups is exclusive to the first phase. Lawyers represent an interesting example of this. In earlier speeches, this term appears an average of 3.33 and 4 times per page, respectively (1968a: 128-9; 1968b: 19-23), yet not at all in the weeks leading up to the Referendum (1969a: 63-4) and only once during the second phase (1969b: 143-50). 137 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

167), while reservist officers are told that ‘εσφυρηλάτησαν τας ψυχάς των εις το πνεύµα της ανατάσεως και του µεγαλείου της Πατρίδος’ (they forged their souls in the spirit of the exaltation and glory of the Fatherland) (1969b: 36). Thus, Papadopoulos’s insistence on unanimous allegiance to the fatherland accompanied speeches that aimed at showcasing particular governmental ‘achievements’ relating to specific sectors; at emphasising the youth and education sector’s role in maintaining the future fatherland; and also at honouring groups whose historical role he endorsed and presenting them and their past actions as an example to be applauded by others. As fatherland represents the notion of an ethnocommunity that is pan-global, one would expect that it is also favoured in speeches where Great Greece found prominence; that is, in speeches to the merchant marine, shipowners, and Greeks living abroad. Fatherland is indeed favoured in speeches to these groups, though predominately during the first and third phases of the dictatorship. In addresses to the merchant marine and shipowners, the term appears an average of 3.9, 3.2 and 3 times per page, respectively (1968b: 51-4; 2004: 38-40, 205-6). In speeches to Greeks living abroad, fatherland appears an average of 4.5, 4, 1.8 and 1.9 times per page, respectively (1968a: 52- 3; 1972: 45; 2004: 92-5, 247-9). While these figures are not consistent within this sector, they tend to be complemented by an amalgamated expression, mother-fatherland (µητέρα-πατρίς, mitera-patris) and a repetition of the term Metropolis (Μητρόπολις, Mitropolis).11

11 The English equivalent of the expression mother-fatherland could well be ‘mother- ’ as fatherland translates to the English ‘homeland’ or ‘fatherland’. Mother- fatherland has been retained, however, in the hope of better representing the awkwardness of such an expression in Greek. 138 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

Mother-fatherland and Metropolis appear in speeches to Greeks abroad in both the first and third phases, but are particularly favoured during the former, with averages of 2.9, 3.5 and 4 times per page (1968b: 110, 173-4; 1969a: 25-6, respectively). Lexically, he presents a personification wherein Greece and mainland Greeks represent the ‘mother’ and Greeks living abroad are her ‘children’. He encourages this group to see Greece as the ‘Metropolis of Nations’ (1968b: 173-4; 1969a: 25-6) while reasserting the importance of the mother-Fatherland (sic) remaining ‘in the soul of her children’ (1968b: 110). Additionally, Greeks living abroad are told to recognise how much they, as ‘overseas offspring’ (1970b: 87; 2004: 94), offer the mother-fatherland by bringing her honour (1968b: 173)—a fact upon which he elaborates:

Επιτρέψατέ µου να σας διαβεβαιώσω και δια την αγάπην, αφοσίωσιν και πίστιν, την οποίαν όλοι ηµείς οι Έλληνες της Μητρός Πατρίδος τρέφοµεν προς τα απόδηµα τέκνα της (1969a: 25).

Allow me also to assure you of the love, dedication and trust, which all we Greeks of the Mother Fatherland bear towards her overseas offspring.12

Such personifications permeate other speeches where, geographically, mainland Greece can be more readily considered the ‘mother’ or the Metropolis. In a brief speech to the citizens of the Dodecanese, Papadopoulos commemorates the 21st anniversary of their union with ‘mother Greece’ (1969b: 95). In a speech to the press upon his return from a recent trip to Cyprus, Papadopoulos passes on

12 The personification of fatherland as ‘mother’ is an image that is additionally used in a speech to technical professionals where Papadopoulos tells them that ‘today’s men will believe that they have, at least spiritually and from the perspective of technical help, Greece as their mother’ (1969b: 176). 139 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

the good wishes of the Greeks in Cyprus ‘προς τους Έλληνας της Μητροπόλεως, της Μητρός Ελλάδος’ (towards the Greeks of the Metropolis, of Mother Greece) (1968a: 69). In an interview for a Turkish newspaper, however, he is careful to extend the parental ownership to both nations: Greece and Turkey are the ‘parents’ of Cyprus (1972: 92-5). In some ways, the associations of this expression parallel those of Great Greece; that is, both expressions appeal to a claim of common culture and heritage in the hope of lexically facilitating a sense of unity in the present. It is, therefore, interesting that mother-fatherland occurs in speeches to the merchant marine and shipowners where Great Greece was additionally prominent. In these speeches (1968b: 52; 1970a: 76; 1970b: 128), Papadopoulos—whilst elaborating on the role of the fatherland in their lives—uses the expression mother- fatherland, not so much to emphasise the importance of the love between ‘mother’ and ‘child’, as to highlight the government’s role within this particular representation:

∆ώσατε αυτό το οποίον απαιτεί σήµερον η Πατρίς. Και η Πατρίς απαιτεί τας υπηρεσίας σας. [...] Εάν εις αυτήν την κατεύθυνσιν οµονοήσετε και συνεργασθήτε, ήµεις εντεύθεν ως η κρατική εξουσία της µητρός πατρίδος, της πατρίδος-κοιτίδος, θα σας προσφέρωµεν τα πάντα (1968b: 52).

Give that which the Fatherland demands today. And the Fatherland demands your service. […] If you collaborate harmoniously in this direction, we, in turn, as the state power of the mother fatherland, of the fatherland-cradle, will offer you everything.

140 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

Arguably more than any other term or representation, people (λαός, laos) embraces the concepts of unity and the collective nature of the ethnocommunity. It is not an abstraction, in the sense that it figuratively links the present ethnocommunity to a shared social, cultural and religious history; it is, literally, the present ethnocommunity, grouped together and united in one collective noun. Moreover, more than nation, it represents the ‘ordinary’, ‘simple’ masses; that is, the hoi polloi. An analysis of the repetition of this term uncovers similar patterns to that of nation. The term people dominates during the first and third phases of the dictatorship, where it appears an average of 1.9 and 1.8 times per page, respectively. It appears to be favoured in speeches that aim at ‘celebrating’ a particular moment in Greece’s past or ‘Revolutionary’ present. Prominence of people in earlier or later speeches to different groups, therefore, should be contextualised according to content, rather than audience composition, as its frequency is not necessarily carried over in speeches among the same group across phases. For example, certain groups only experience high frequencies of people during the first phase: lawyers, with an average of 5.2 times per page (1968b: 19-23); the education sector 1968b: 56-62, 64-8) and students of Thessaloniki University (ibid., pp. 79-88), with an average of between 2.4 and 2.6 times per page; technological scientists, with an average of 2.4 times per page (1968b: 72-7); production workers and farmers, with averages of 2 and 4.5 times per page, respectively (1968b: 35-41, 98-100); war invalids, with an average of 3.2 times per page (1968a: 36-9); and the Security Forces, with an average of 2.4 times per page (1968a: 131-7, 138-43). Conversely, during the second phase, Papadopoulos appears systematically to favour the term people in speeches to the Armed

141 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

Forces. Above-average findings, however, during this period are not wholly consistent among this group; rather, they indicate a lexical choice determined by both audience composition and content. Almost all of the speeches to the Armed Forces that favour this term are given on dates that celebrate past or present ‘glories’ or ‘achievements’ (25 March 1821, 28 October 1940, 21 April 1967)—12 averages of 7.5, 2, 1.9, 2.5, 4.5, 4.4, 2.7, 4, 3, 2.7, 4 and 3.6 times per page (1969a: 102, 167; 1969b: 61-71, 73; 1970a: 207-8; 1970b: 47, 77, 110; 1972: 18, 47, 74, 182, respectively). In fact, people tends to appear with above-average frequency in speeches celebrating such ‘glories’ to other audiences—nine averages of 2, 2.5, 2.1, 4.3, 2, 5, 2.4, 2 and 3 times per page (1968b: 112-4; 1969a: 103; 1970a: 34-6, 37; 1970b: 42, 87, 112-4; 2004: 65-6, 69- 70, 199-200, respectively). Similarly, it appears in above-average frequency in New Year’s messages—five averages of 2, 3, 2.1, 2.9 and 3 times per page (1968a: 104-5; 1969a: 166-7; 1970b: 79-81; 1972: 49-50; 2004: 16-17, respectively). The same argument can explain why he also favours this particular representation of the ethnocommunity in speeches celebrating the military prowess of Greeks—averages of 1.5, 2.5 and 2.7 times per page (1969a: 57; 1970b: 164-5; 2004: 97-8, respectively)—or the benefits of the Truman Doctrine to the post-WW2 nation—an average of 6.3 times per page (1968a: 27-34). Additionally, an argument can be made that the frequency of people is greater in speeches that attempt to highlight the ‘benefit’ of specific regime policies. For example, while above-average findings are evident in some DET addresses, the highest average of 2.6 times per page is found in the inaugural DET address under his regime (1969a: 42-6), and the DET address where the abolition of mandatory

142 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

certificates on a citizen’s healthy social views (Πιστοποιητικά Κοινωνικών Φρονηµάτων) was announced (1972: 122-30). Similarly, while it does not appear consistently in such high frequencies in any other speeches to public servants, when Papadopoulos addresses them regarding their reorganisation, people is repeated an average of 4.9 times per page (1968b: 43-9).13 There is a consistently high repetition of people only in speeches to the press that discuss either the new 1968 Constitution, the new press laws or the reorganisation of its sector—averages of 4, 3.2, 10.9 and 2 times per page (1968a: 62-4; 1968b: 29-33; 1969a: 66-73; 1970b: 24-31, respectively). Conversely, an analysis of the repetition of the term state (κράτος, kratos) and its adjective (κρατικός, kratikos) does reveal distinct patterns according to just audience composition. There are individual speeches that record an increase in this term; however, its prominence is comparatively inconsistent in addresses to the majority of sectors. For example, the term state is favoured in some speeches to production workers and the agricultural sector with an average of 2.4, 1.9 and 2.1 times per page, respectively (1968b: 35-41, 90-6; 1970b: 120-4). It appears with above-average frequency in various other addresses to the prefectures of Evros and Rodopi and a speech to students and educationalists in Thessaloniki (1969b: 48-59; 1970a: 123-5). In the national address delivered on the second anniversary of the regime, state is repeated an average of 3.5 times per page (1970a: 42-5) and in a speech to the press regarding the 1970 budget, with an average of 2.2 (1970b: 58-60). In two speeches to the nation, both of which describe the past, present and future achievements of the nation, it is repeated at an average of 2.3 and 2.5 times per page, respectively (1972: 33-43, 169-80)—the

13 A similar finding existed with the term fatherland. See pp. 137. 143 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

former in which 85% of all instances appear only when he speaks about the future. The significance of the use of the term state lies in its dramatic increase with two targeted groups: public servants and MPs. From the first, it is apparent that Papadopoulos chiefly presents the ethnocommunity as a state in addresses to public servants. During the first phase, it is repeated with this group an average of 2.4, 2.2 and 4.5 times per page, (1968a: 116-20; 1968b: 43-9, 131-2, respectively). During the early part of the second phase, the use of state increases dramatically to an average of 6.4, 6 and 6.8 times per page (1969b: 180-9, 193-8, 207-13, respectively).14 Similarly, state is favoured in the majority of speeches to official government bodies or ministers. During the first phase, it is repeated to these groups at an average of 2.4 and 2.3 times per page, respectively (1968a: 66-7; 1969a: 10-18). During the second phase, it appears with 19 averages of between 2.2 and 6.2 times per page (1969b: 23-4; 1970a: 72-8, 80-8, 92-100, 102-8, 116-21, 127-35, 137-43, 145-7, 149-52, 154-61, 165-6, 168-72, 176-80, 1970b: 51-5; 1972: 29, 52-60, 132-4; 2004: 19-30). During the third phase, it appears an average of 2.4 and 6.1 times per page, respectively (2004: 48-58, 130-1). This clear result according to audience composition is further supported by two additional factors. Firstly, while the more neutral term country (χώρα, chora) is dominant in almost all speeches to other sectors, it is noticeably absent or distinctively less frequent in speeches to these two groups. Secondly, it is to these sectors that the phrases state mechanism (κρατικός µηχανισµός, kratikos michanismos) and state machine (κρατική µηχανή, kratiki michani) are more consistently repeated. Thus, these two phrases appear in almost all of

14 No speeches were documented to public servants in the later part of the second phase or the third phase. 144 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

the speeches to MPs or government institutions mentioned above and retain consistently high averages in addresses to public servants (1968a: 116-20; 1968b: 43-9; 1969b: 180-9, 193-8, 207-13) who are told:

Ο κρατικός µηχανισµός είχε περιέλθει εις κατάστασιν παραλύσεως. Βραδυκίνητος, παρασιτικός, τυραννικός δια τους πολίτας, νωθρός έναντι των καθηκόντων του, ανίκανος να οργανώση δηµιουργικώς την ζωήν του Έθνους, ηύρυνε το χάσµα µεταξύ Κράτους και Λαού (1968b: 112).

The state mechanism had reached a point of paralysis. Slow- moving, parasitic, tyrannical for the citizens, sluggish in performing its duties, incapable of organising the life of the Nation in a constructive way, it broadened the chasm between State and People.

In fact, even when these phrases appear in addresses to other sectors, the content of the speech typically concerns the need for the public sector’s reorganisation or, more generally, the deterioration of the state or components of it.15 A similar tendency arises when the term bureaucracy (γραφειοκρατία, grafeiokratia) is considered. It also appears to be favoured in addresses to MPs (1969a: 11, 14) and public servants (1968a: 119; 1969b: 208). He asks the political representatives in the

15 It appears in various press addresses (1968a: 17-23, 55-60; 1969a: 151-8; 1969b: 30-4; 1970a: 63-70; 1970b: 58-60) and interviews with overseas representatives (1968a: 125-6; 1970b: 156-60). It is found in addresses to the agricultural sector (1968b: 35-41, 90-6), educational sector (1968b: 56-62; 1969b: 113-21) and technological scientists (1968b: 72-7). It is repeated in an address to the citizens of Patras (1968b: 144-9), in two DET addresses (1969a: 48-52; 1972: 122-30) and in national addresses that focus on the coming year (1968a: 104-5; 1969a: 136-49, 166-7; 1969b: 113-21; 1970b: 64-75), that celebrate the Greeks’ military prowess (1970a: 207-8; 1970b: 164-5), that commemorate the dictatorship (1968b: 112-4; 1970a: 34-6, 37; 1970b: 110; 1972: 76-8), or that discuss the Referendum (1969a: 66-73, 79-82) or the new Constitution (1969a: 113-8, 120-1). 145 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

Verroia prefecture, to ‘unglue’ themselves finally from the bureaucracy of the recent past (1969b: 102). Similarly, public servants are asked to ‘unglue’ themselves from past traditions and change their methods in the future, because it is this type of anachronistic practice that:

κινδυνεύει να είναι το φάντασµα που εµφανίζεται ως γραφειοκρατία (1969b: 208).

is in danger of being the apparition that appears as bureaucracy.

Importantly, Papadopoulos emphasises that because of the Revolution this bureaucracy, which existed in the past, does not and should not filter into the present ethnocommunity. Thus, in a speech to regional ministers during the later part of the second phase of the dictatorship, he points out that, among its many achievements, the Revolution has managed to free the state from the ‘γραφειοκρατική τροχοπέδη’ (bureaucratic brake) (1972: 90). He stresses that the state, and, specifically, the state mechanism, is not the bureaucratic one of the past (1968a: 119), because, as he explains in his victory speech following the 1968 Referendum, the Revolution has introduced ‘new, corrective methods for the fight against bureaucracy’ (1969a: 84). Instead, he attempts to provide a new definition of bureaucracy, which these groups can take into the future. He tells MPs that when they make decisions:

µη φοβήσθε και µη βασίζεσθε εις την γραφειοκρατίαν. Η γραφειοκρατία είναι δια να σας προπαρασκάση τα απαιτούµενα στοιχεία, βάσει των οποίων θα λάβετε αποφάσεις. Η λήψις των αποφάσεων και η παρακολούθησις των θεµάτων είναι έργον ιδικόν σας, το οποίον δεν δύναται και δεν πρέπει να εµποδίζεται από την

146 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

γραφειοκρατίαν, αλλά και δεν δύναται να δικαιολογήται εξ αιτίας αυτής η µή εκτελεσίς του (1969a: 14).

do not fear or depend on bureaucracy. Bureaucracy exists to provide you with the necessary data, from which you can make decisions. The absence of decisions and the observing of matters is a task that cannot and must not be hindered by bureaucracy, nor can failure to carry it out be justified by it.

Furthermore, two fundamental differences exist between the use of state and any other representations of the ethnocommunity. Firstly, in addition to being used to represent the ethnocommunity, state is used to represent the leadership: the state is there to serve the people, to give them what they require. Secondly, when state is used to represent the ethnocommunity, it has almost no positive connotations. Thus, the state always needs to change, to be reorganised and to be ‘reborn’.16 The state mechanism is presented as a malfunctioning machine, as ‘parasitic’ and, therefore, one that needs to be replaced. Thus, the reorganisation of the public sector became a governmental aim upon which Papadopoulos would continuously focus and towards which he would dedicate much discourse, to many audiences. Additionally, there is one other difference in Papadopoulos’s choice of the representation of state, which is in stark contrast to his use of all other representations for the ethnocommunity. As has been discussed in this chapter, the repetition of nation, Greece, Great Greece, Helleno-Christianity, Greece of the Greek Christians, fatherland, mother-fatherland and people aims at presenting an ethnocommunity in the present that is homogenous, religious and inexorably linked to and united in a glorious distant history. His use

16 For the ‘rebirth’ of the state, see Chapter 3.4. 147 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.2 – Defining the Ethnocommunity

of state, however, emphasises how the present ethnocommunity is connected to the ‘negative’ recent past, a past that must be cleansed in the present for a successful future. Furthermore, any reformation and ‘rebirth’ can only be realised if it is founded on two underlying factors, both of which rely on a united ethnocommunity in the present. The first depends on an ethnocommunity that understands the fundamental importance of its shared culture, history and religion and is able to successfully re- embrace these attributes of the ‘glorious’ distant past into its present. The second depends on the ethnocommunity’s united support of a leadership that will guide its citizens in this task: a Revolution, which was enacted for these very citizens. Every individual, therefore, becomes responsible for the success of the present ethnocommunity and every individual is ‘obliged’ to see that this ethnocommunity succeeds into the future. And the future ethnocommunity is Greece of the Greek Christians—an ideal of the past, reborn in the present, and one which will be the foundation for the future.

148 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.3.1 – The ‘Negative’ Recent Past

Chapter 2.3.1 – The ‘Negative’ Recent Past

Αρκεί να αναπολήσωµεν την κατάστασιν η οποία επεκράτει εις την πολυπαθή χώραν µας ολίγον προ της Επαναστάσεως, δια να αντιληφθώµεν την σηµασίαν της επελθούσης µεταβολής (1968b: 112).

It is enough to recall the situation that prevailed in our much-afflicted country a little before the Revolution, in order to comprehend the importance of the change that has occurred.

Having elaborated on Papadopoulos’s lexical representation of the united ethnocommunity and of its unified support of the regime, this chapter will examine his presentation of the ethnocommunity’s shared recent history: a ‘negative’ recent past; a past from which the ethnocommunity needed to break away and one which, significantly, was severed necessarily and definitively by the Revolution.1 Lexically, Papadopoulos presents the ‘negative’ recent past through terms laden with imagery that recalls a ‘bad’, ‘corrupt’ and ‘negative’ recent past overloaded with ‘weaknesses’ of the ‘mentality’ of both past governments and past citizens. The following terms have been considered in Papadopoulos’s lexical construction of the ‘negative’ recent past: ακολασία (debauchery), αναρχία (anarchy); απεµπόλησις (betrayal), αποχαλίνωσις (running amok), αφανισµός (ruination, annihilation), δύσπιστος (distrustful), εξαγορά (bribery), καταστροφή (catastrophe), κιτρινισµός (yellowing), λάθος (mistake), ολέθριος (disastrous), ρουσφέτι (bribe), ρουσφετολογία (bribery), σκανδαλοθηρία (scandal mongering), συκοφαντία (slander), συναλλαγή (favouritism)—this term is most commonly used to mean ‘transactions’, as

1 To avoid the use of a specific term in representing the ‘recent past’, the adjective ‘negative’ has been chosen to reflect all such negative connotations. Thus, this period, in accordance with how Papadopoulos describes it, henceforth will be known as the ‘negative recent past’.

149 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.3.1 – The ‘Negative’ Recent Past

in ‘trade’, thus, only instances that represent its metaphoric meaning are considered—σφάλµα (error), τυραννία (tyranny), φαύλος (corrupt), χάος (chaos), ψεύδος (lie) and φηµολογία (rumour). Adjectives such as ‘anarchical’, ‘catastrophic’, ‘tyrannical’ and ‘false’ are also included. The verbs σφάλω (to err) and λανθάνω (to make a mistake), as used to describe situations of the ‘negative’ recent past or present, are also considered. Additionally, the adjectives κακός (bad, evil) and δεινός (terrible) are examined along with their adverbs and the use of the prefix κακο- (mis-, ill-), such as in the word κακοµεταχείρισις (misuse) (1969a: 151). This ‘negative’ recent past is presented to diverse audiences over different phases of the dictatorship and, thus, an examination of the repetition of this representation, in relation to audience composition and/or chronology, is not particularly revealing. When these data, however, are considered alongside those of a quantitative study of the concept of the past, thereby further accenting the period which is the focus, distinct patterns in Papadopoulos’s lexical choices appear. In the quantitative examination of the concept of past, the following terms are considered: παρελθόν (past), παλαιός (old—as it refers to the recent past), and χθές (yesterday—when it is used as a synonym for the recent past, and not as a reference to the day before today). This combination of negative terms qualifying the recent past and the concept past itself is slightly more pronounced during the first and second phases where it appears an overall average of 1.4 and 1.3 times per page, respectively. During the third phase, it appears an overall average of once per page. While this contrast is not great, there is a tendency to refer to the ‘negative’ recent past more in earlier speeches—speeches that occurred in years where the contrast between the ‘negative’ recent past and the consequent ‘necessary’ Revolution were more a focus. An above-average repetition of terms associated with the ‘negative’ recent past is found in speeches to diverse audiences, for, seemingly, no

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clear reason. For example, such terms are repeated to the production sector, at averages of 2 and 1.6 times per page (1968a: 72-6; 1968b: 35- 41); to scientists, at an average of 3.3 times per page (1968a: 122-3); to lawyers, at an average of 2.8 times per page (1968b: 19-23); to bankers, at an average of 1.9 times per page (1968b: 25-7); and to members of the Union of Greek Industrialists—in a speech entitled ‘The Revolution is a Reality’—at an average of 2.3 times per page (1969b: 134-41). Additionally, citizens of various areas in Greece tend to have the ‘negative’ recent past presented to them with above-average frequency: seven averages of 3, 2.1, 1.8, 1.9, 2.75, 2.2 and 2.3 times per page (1968a: 107-8; 1968b: 144-9; 1969b: 75-82, 99-109, 202-6, 215-7; 1970b: 120-4, respectively). This, however, is not consistent among the same citizen group or across time. While speeches to various professional sectors mentioned above, therefore, do include an above-average repetition of terms associated with the ‘negative’ recent past for no particular reason, there are notable exceptions that would indicate that Papadopoulos makes pointed choices among particular groups at certain times. Above-average negative representations of the recent past are found only in speeches to the agricultural sector that concern the abolition of agricultural debts—an average of 1.9 and 3 times per page (1968b: 90-6, 98-100). This would appear to indicate that Papadopoulos focuses on the ‘negative’ recent past in order to make a direct distinction with what he deems to be the positive present—a tendency that will be examined in the following chapter. A similar tendency could also explain why, during the first phase, Papadopoulos discusses the ‘negative’ recent past in above-average frequencies with students and representatives of the educational sector. The averages of 2 and 1.9 times per page (1968a: 110-2; 1968b: 64-8, respectively) would indicate that in highlighting the exceptionally ‘bad’ recent past, he attempts to foreground the allegedly good present, under

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the regime. During the third phase, however, his tendency to focus on the ‘negative’ recent past with this sector becomes more consistent, pointing to a different motivation. While the above-average findings noted above are present in only two of the six speeches delivered to this sector during the first phase, above- average findings are present in both speeches given during the third phase—averages of 1.5 and 2.1 times per page (2004: 177-86, 187-94, respectively).2 This tendency would appear to be a reaction to this sector’s growing collective activism against the regime during the final years of the dictatorship, and the consequent need for Papadopoulos lexically to continue to justify the leadership’s presence; that is, such a troubled past still reflects on the present ethnocommunity and, therefore, the leadership is still needed for guidance. Interestingly, in both of the speeches he delivers to the nation prior to the 1968 and 1973 referendums on their respective new constitutions, negative representations of the recent past appear an average of 1.5 and 1.1 times per page (1969a: 79-82; 2004: 228-35, respectively). Such representations, however, do not appear at all in either of the victory speeches (1969a. 84-5; 2004: 238-9, respectively). It would seem, therefore, that by focusing on the nightmare—that is, on the negative environment from which Greeks should protect themselves and from what they should move away—he hopes to further insist on the need for such a dramatic change in the nation’s constitutional make-up. This appears to motivate his decision to increase the frequency of negative images associated with the recent past in other key speeches. For example, when he declares Martial Law in reaction to the events that transpired at the Polytechnic in Athens in November 1973, such negative representations appear 5 times in just three-quarters of a page (2004:

2 Even as early as 29 November 1971, engineering graduates have the ‘negative’ recent past mentioned a dramatic 9 times during a 1-page speech (1972: 159).

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258). In the first New Year’s message delivered after the regime came to power, these representations appear an average of 2.5 times per page (1968a: 104-5). Similarly, in the speech delivered to the nation on the third anniversary of the dictatorship, representations are repeated an average of 4.3 times per page (1970b: 112-4)—undoubtedly, an increased reference to the ‘negative’ recent past as a contrast to the ‘revolutionary’ present was deemed appropriate four months after the dictatorship’s decision to withdraw from the Council of Europe. Government representatives and public servants are also lexically subject to consistent representations of the ‘negative’ recent past. During the first phase, MPs have such references repeated an average of 4.7, 4, 3.5 and 3.2 times per page (1968a: 66-7, 145-6; 1969a: 10-18; 1972: 132- 4, respectively). In an address to the Constitutional Committee, an address to members of the Royal National Institute and two addresses to the Advisory Committee, Papadopoulos refers to the ‘negative’ recent past an average of 2, 4.5, 2.4 and 2 times per page (1968a: 99-102; 1969b: 23-4; 1972: 26-7, 52-60, respectively). While such references, generally, are not as favoured during the third phase, an above-average repetition is still prevalent with this audience—averages of 1.3, 1.6 and 3 times per page (2004: 48-58, 72-80, 124-8, respectively). Similarly, public servants have such negative representations repeated to them an average of 2.4, 2.2, 2 and 2.9 times per page (1968a: 116-20; 1968b: 43-9, 131-2; 1969b: 193-8, respectively). These results are interesting as it was these two groups who additionally experienced a consistently high frequency of the term state (κράτος, kratos). Thus, it appears that Papadopoulos focuses on the need for change from the ‘negative’ recent past with the public sector—the most ‘parasitic’ component of the ethnocommunity (1968b: 112)—and with the representatives of government—the representatives of the Revolution that would enact such change.

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The ‘negative’ recent past tends to be favoured in addresses to direct representatives of public opinion both within Greece and overseas. For example, the Greek and foreign press experience 10 speeches with averages of 2, 2.2, 5.5, 1.7, 1.7, 2.1, 2.5, 1.6, 1.9, 1.66 and 2.5 times per page (1968a: 10-15, 17-23, 62-4; 1968b: 29-33, 1969a: 63-4, 66-73, 151- 8; 1969b: 10-13, 15-21; 1970b: 64-75; 1972: 92-5). In an interview with the president of the Christian Crusade, these negative representations appear an average of 2.3 times per page (1968a: 125-6). During the official addresses at the annual DET (International Exhibition in Thessaloniki), such imagery, though notably decreasing in frequency as the years progress, appears an average of 4.5, 3.7, 2.66 and 1.6 times per page (1969a: 48-52; 1970b: 17-22; 1972: 119-20, 1972: 122-30, respectively). This high frequency is also evident in a speech he delivers to visiting German ministers during the first phase, with a very high average of 5.4 times per page (1969a: 20-3). Of course, by reinforcing images of the ‘negative’ recent past, the need for the Revolution becomes more pronounced, and it appears that Papadopoulos is more likely to continue to use the recent past as a justification for his initial and continued presence in Greece to those overseas rather than those within the ethnocommunity. Papadopoulos also appears to elaborate on the ‘negative’ recent past with groups who he deems have always been at the forefront of the fight against its ‘terrible’ aspects. When he addresses casualties and invalids of war, these negative representations of the recent past appear an average of 4.1 times per page (1968a: 36-9). In a speech celebrating the military prowess of Greeks, such references are made at an average of 2.1 and 5.2 times per page (1968b: 176-8; 1972: 114-5, respectively). This is, however, not the case with speeches to the Armed Forces. To this group, there are only two speeches with an above-average number of such representations: an average of 2 times per page in a speech celebrating the anniversary of

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28 October (Ochi Day); and an average of 5.33 times per page in the 1969- 70 New Year’s Eve address (1970b: 44-5, 77, respectively). This is curious, particularly when the exact opposite is true of speeches to the Security Forces, who experience consistently high averages of 3 and 2.8 times per page in earlier addresses (1968a: 131-7, 138-43, respectively). To the Security Forces, Papadopoulos’s insistence on such negative representations of the recent past aims at appealing to the component of the ethnocommunity that he deems ‘protects’ and maintains its ‘security’ in the present—a notion that will be explored further in the following chapter examining the lexical representations of the ‘revolutionary’ present. The same patterns among groups and over time emerge in an analysis of the repetition of the concept of weakness, where the following terms are considered: αδυναµία (weakness), αδύνατος (weak), αδράνεια (inertia, inactivity) and ελάττωµα (weakness, defect, fault—but not as in ‘blame’). The weakness in Greek society, according to Papadopoulos, can be directly representative of ‘communism’, ‘demagogy’ or ‘corruption’; however, at its core, the weakness is always the same: it is always one of the mentality of the people.3 While with some speeches, there appears to be no distinct reason as to the concept’s overuse, particular patterns, which correspond to those of the references to the ‘negative’ recent past, are discernable.4

3 The weaknesses of the ethnocommunity will be further explored in the forthcoming metaphor component discussing Papadopoulos’s various representations of the illness. 4 Weakness is repeated an average of 2.3 and 2.1 times per page to lawyers (1969a: 63-4, 143-50, respectively), an average of 1.6 times per page to technical professionals (1969b: 173-8), an average of 1.5 times per page to citizens of Ioannina (1969b: 191-2) and twice in a very short speech to the citizens of Mesolongi (2004: 202). Weakness also appears to be favoured in addresses to the education sector with comparatively high averages of 2.3 and 2.1 times per page (1968a: 148-58; 1969b: 113- 21). Even a speech to the citizens of Serres with an average of 1.4 times per page (1969b: 75-82) supports this tendency, as the majority of references here to the ethnocommunity’s weakness refer to those inherent to the education sector.

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Weakness appears to be favoured in addresses that aim at justifying drastic action or change. In the addresses prior to and following both the 1968 and 1973 referendums, the repetition of the concept, though not comparatively significant, only appears in the addresses prior to both referendums (1969a: 79-82; 2004: 228-35, respectively) and not at all in those that followed (1969a: 84-5; 2004: 238-9). Similarly, when he announces the lifting of Martial Law in a national address (1972: 169-80), the average of 2.25 times per page would indicate that he complemented this action by warning of the inherent weaknesses still present in the ethnocommunity. There is a tendency to increase the presence of weakness in addresses to representatives of public opinion both in Greece and overseas, though its repetition is by no means as consistent as that of previously examined representations of the ‘negative’ recent past. For example, weakness appears an average of 1.2, 1.3 times per page (1968b: 163-71; 1969a: 131-4, respectively) in only two earlier addresses to the press, and 1.1 times per page in Papadopoulos’s interview with the British Sunday Times (1970b: 156-60). In an interview with the president of the Christian Crusade, weakness is repeated an average of 2.3 times per page (1968a: 125-6). It is also repeated an average of 1.9 times per page in the dinner message of the 34th DET (1970b: 17-22) and an average of 1.2 times per page to visiting German ministers (1969a: 20-3). Similarly, there is a tendency to repeat the concept to those groups that Papadopoulos deems are the nation’s ‘protective bodies’ and, therefore, have been at the forefront of fighting such weaknesses in the past. Thus, war veterans mark an average of 1.33 times per page (1970b: 44-5), Security Forces, an average of 2.66 times per page (1968a: 138-43) and, interestingly, an average of 1.5 times per page in an official dinner

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message to Greek and NATO officers, where the term danger (κίνδυνος, kindynos) also appeared with above-average frequency (2004: 225-6).5 Weakness also occurs with above-average frequency in addresses to groups where the term state also dominated. Government representatives have five instances of averages of 1.8, 1.4, 1, 2.4 and 1.1 times per page (1968a: 66-7; 1969a: 10-18; 1970b: 51-5; 1972: 52-60; 2004: 72-80, respectively) and the public sector has three averages of 1.1, 2.5 and 1.6 times per page, respectively (1969b: 180-9, 193-8, 207-13). As an aid to his representation of the ‘negative’ recent past, Papadopoulos also introduces the suffix -cracy (-κρατία, -kratia) to define specific aspects of the ethnocommunity as a whole; negative aspects that have been inherited from the recent past and continue to affect the present. This chapter will discuss the following terms: societocracy, individualocracy, familocracy, favourocracy, corruptocracy, and mobocracy.6 The first time the -cracy suffix is utilised by Papadopoulos is in the construction of the term societocracy (κοινωνιοκρατία, koinoniokratia). In a speech to production workers, Papadopoulos explains that the fundamental difference between a slave and a free man (the former, which was in the past, and the latter, which exists under the regime) is that a slave does:

[αυτό το οποίο επιβάλλει η] ολιγαρχία της κοινωνιοκρατίας, την οποίαν λέγουν οι τύραννοι ότι θεραπεύουν (1968a: 73).

[that which the] oligarchy of the societocracy, which the tyrants say they heal, [demands].

5 The relevance of the repetition of the concept of danger is examined in the following chapter. 6 In order to maintain certain associations inherent in such constructions with the prefix -cracy, specific neologisms in English have been created and will be used consistently.

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While societocracy is certainly not a neologism accredited to Papadopoulos, its association as a synonym to ‘’ is still valid. As defined by Papadopoulos, it is an environment where the group interest is considered at the expense of the individual’s. This definition becomes more apparent when the societocracy is reintroduced a few months later—this time, in a speech to public servants—and contrasted with its antonym, the individualocracy (ατοµοκρατία, atomokratia):

Ευρισκόµεθα εις την φάσιν της προσπαθείας των ανθρώπων δια τον συµβιβασµόν των δύο συστηµάτων, της κοινωνιοκρατίας και της ατοµοκρατίας (1968a: 116).

We find ourselves at the phase of men’s endeavour for the reconciliation of the two systems, of societocracy and of individualocracy.

Here, he describes the need to balance the desires of the individual with those of the society. He continues to stress the need for equilibrium between these two states that have defined the recent past, in the introductory paragraph of a speech, again, to production workers:

∆εν είναι δυνατή η ατοµοκρατική κοινωνία, όπως και δεν είναι δυνατή και η «κοινωνιοκρατική», η οποία εκµηδενίζει το άτοµον (1969a: 37).

The individualocratic society is not possible, just as the ‘societocratic’ [society], the one that annihilates the individual, is also not possible.

Etymologically, an argument could be made that both terms point to political ideologies: societocracy acts as a synonym for ‘socialism’ or ‘communism’; individualocracy acts as a synonym for ‘’. Thus, during the dinner message of the 34th DET, Papadopoulos states,

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somewhat tautologically, that no government based on a parliamentary system is able to develop if it ‘expresses individualocratic theorem as an individual interest’ (1970b: 19). Papadopoulos appears, however, to favour the use of a more general and philosophical sense of both terms; that is, both describe a personal doctrine rather than a political one. They reflect symptoms of a particular ethnocommunity’s mentality, rather than systems of its political dogma. This becomes clear in a speech to bankers, where he defines the term individualocracy through his use of the rhetorical formula ‘if not a, then b’:

Εάν δεν φύγωµεν από την θέσιν της ατοµοκρατίας, εάν δεν παύσωµεν να βλέπωµεν µόνον το άτοµον, εάν δεν έλθωµεν εις την θέσιν της ευθύνης του συνόλου, έχοµεν, κύριοι, καταστραφή (1968b: 26).

If we do not depart from the position of individualocracy, if we do not stop seeing only the individual, if we do not arrive at the position of responsibility for the whole, we have, gentlemen, destroyed ourselves.

Essentially, what Papadopoulos is attempting to do is to create a template for a future and prosperous Greece. Such a template would find a balance between individual and group needs, not simply embody one or the other, as governments and people have in the recent past.7 In a press address concerning changes to the new Constitution of 1968, Papadopoulos is asked whether the change to electing a parliamentarian for four consecutive terms applies to the past or the future. He replies:

Η διάταξις αποσκοπεί εις την θεραπείαν µιας άλλης αδυναµίας, της αδυναµίας της οικογενειοκρατίας εις τον πολιτικόν βίον (1968b: 168).

7 The stressed importance of balancing the needs of the ethnocommunity as well as the individuals within it is examined more closely in Chapter 2.4.

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The order aims at healing another weakness, the weakness of familocracy in political life.

Papadopoulos’s use of familocracy (οικογενειοκρατία, oikogeneiokratia) is relevant for two reasons. Firstly, it is arguably a neologism of his and it appears only twice, both times during the first phase, and both times regarding the 1968 Constitution. Secondly, while its construction and use is akin to that of individualocracy—that is, the egoism of the individual to procure his own interests at the expense of those of the wider community—it is not used as an overall assessment of the ethnocommunity; in fact, it points specifically to one octogenarian political family: the Papandreou family. Thus, the Papandreou family becomes a weakness of the past and one that the regime certainly aims to quash through the new Constitution that it proposes. Thus, in the introductory paragraphs of the speech Papadopoulos delivers on the eve of the 1968 Referendum, he defines the political leadership of the recent past as ‘feudalistic’, ‘self-loving’, and ‘familocratic’ (1969a: 79). Furthermore, introducing a new composite term utilising the same suffix, he defines past leaders as those who ‘εστιγµάτιζαν µε οργήν την «ευνοιοκρατίαν»’ (fervently stigmatised ‘favourocracy’) (ibid.). Again, while favourocracy is certainly a synonym of ‘favouritism’, its use is specific to the political leaders of the past, especially the Papandreou family. His use of the suffix -cracy to define the negative aspects of the recent past is evident in the speech he delivers on the first anniversary of the Revolution, where he introduces the nation to the term corruptocracy (φαυλοκρατία, favlokratia): the politically and economically corrupt state of the recent past. He refers to the recent past’s ‘depressed’ economy ‘υπό της κοµµατικής φαυλοκρατίας’ (under the corruptocracy of party politics)

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(1968a: 112) and the ‘terrible danger of inflation’ ‘λόγω των σπατάλων και της λαφυραγωγίας της φαυλοκρατίας’ (because of the wastefulness and plundering of the corruptocracy) (ibid. 113) of the recent past. He does also use this term, however, as a means of accrediting the Revolution with the positive changes in the present ethnocommunity:

Ήρεµοι τώρα οι φοιτηταί και απηλλαγµένοι της κηδεµονίας της κοµµατικής φαυλοκρατίας µοχθούν δια την κατάκτησιν της γνώσεως (1968a: 114).

The students, now calm and free from the guardianship of the corruptocracy of party politics, labour for the conquest of knowledge.

The use of this term to highlight the corruptocratic-free present reveals itself also in a speech to his ministers:

Αι αδυναµίαι εκδηλώνονται θετικώς και αρνητικώς. Θετικώς µεν µε τας κατευθύνσεις της παλαιάς φαυλοκρατικής νοοτροπίας της προσεγγίσεως των υπευθύνων παραγόντων προς εξασφάλισιν των ευνοϊκών δι’ έκαστον άτοµον λύσεων (1969a: 11-12).

Weaknesses manifest themselves positively and negatively. Positively, on the one hand, with the tendencies of the old corruptocratic mentality of the approach of responsible elements towards the securing of favourable solutions for every individual.

Furthermore, as he goes on to explain, this ‘corruptocratic mentality’ is of one of ‘bribery’ and ‘nepotism’ (ibid.); that is, one which is analogous to a favourocracy and familocracy. The term corruptocracy is largely replaced by another term in the latter part of the second phase. In fact, if the term corruptocracy is indeed mentioned, it is not actually to describe the recent past. For example, in

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his 1969-70 new year’s message to the Armed Forces, Papadopoulos uses the term to refer to the period at the beginning of the (1970b: 77). Instead, the representation of corruptocracy becomes superseded by that of mobocracy (οχλοκρατία, ochlokratia). Papadopoulos introduces the term by warning that should a future parliamentary system mimic that of the recent past:

τότε δεν έχοµεν, κύριοι, δηµοκρατίαν, έχοµεν οχλοκρατίαν, έχοµεν αναρχίαν, έχοµεν πολιτείαν, η οποία είναι αποδεσµευµένη από κάθε ηθικήν αξίαν, από κάθε τάξιν, από κάθε θεσµόν, από κάθε συνέπειαν ως προς την θέσιν, η οποία της επιβάλλεται εκ των ευθυνών της έναντι του κοινωνικού συνόλου (1970b: 18).

then, gentlemen, we do not have democracy, we have mobocracy, we have anarchy, we have a polity, which is no longer bound by every moral value, by every order, by every principle, by every consequence concerning the attitude that it is necessary to have because of its responsibilities towards the social whole.

The introduction of mobocracy in the quotation above is relevant for two reasons. Firstly, it is introduced through the rhetorical formula ‘not a, but b’—a formula which was used to contrast the good of the Revolution by directly pointing out the bad of a dictatorship.8 Here, Papadopoulos uses the formula in a similar way to contrast the ideal democracy—another term that is constructed with the suffix -cracy—with the reality of the mobocracy that the ethnocommunity faces should the regime’s specific directions not be followed. Secondly, the formula is tautologically extended; that is, ‘not a, but b1, b2, b3’. Thus, utilising such simplistic linguistic symmetry, the term mobocracy is easily defined and redefined as a ‘democracy-free’, ‘moral-free’, ‘order-free’, ‘principle-free’, ‘anarchical’

8 See Chapter 2.1.

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‘polity’. The late appearance and use of mobocracy complements a similar lexical shift, where ‘communism’ gives way to ‘anarchy’ as the enemy of the ethnocommunity (see the following chapter). Papadopoulos also uses the term mobocracy to ‘guide’ students in the correct way forward. In the following quotations, he asserts that, in addition to respecting their ancestors, their parents and their teachers, students must embrace the ‘right’ kind of questioning; that is ‘questioning’:

µε αντικειµενικά κριτήρια και µε υπεύθυνον θέσιν, ποτέ δε τοποθέτησις ενώπιον των προβληµάτων κατά τας δοξασίας ή τα κελεύσµατα του οιουδήποτε οχλοκράτου (2004: 36).

with objective criteria and in a responsible way, never facing the problems according to the beliefs or the orders of any mobocrat.

Locating Papadopoulos’s use of this term in the context of both audience composition and chronology is significant in this example. This speech followed the beginning of organised student protests in 1972 against the dictatorship and, thus, his reference to a state where the ‘mob’ rules seems appropriate here. Importantly, in one of his later speeches to his ministers, he emphasises that though the Greek people have a tendency to be dragged into the type of ‘disorder’ that is present ‘κάτω από το κράτος οχλοκρατών ή δηµοκόπων’ (under a state of mobocrats or demagogues) (2004: 218), his Revolution will not allow such a state to continue. Through the presentation of terms laden with negative connotations alongside the term past, Papadopoulos presents a ‘negative’ recent past— one that additionally is reinforced through the repetition of the term weakness. Furthermore, through the formation of specific terms using the suffix -cracy, Papadopoulos is able to define concisely the specific all-

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encompassing situations of the ‘negative’ recent past which have afflicted the present ethnocommunity and from which it must decisively escape: a societocracy, an individualocracy, a familocracy, a favourocracy, a corruptocracy and a mobocracy. Thus, Papadopoulos attempts lexically to justify the dictatorship’s initial and continued presence in Greece: it is because of the ‘negative’ recent past that the Revolution came into existence and it is because of the tendency of this ‘negative’ recent past to filter into the present ethnocommunity that the Revolution remains.

164 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.3.2 – The ‘Revolutionary’ Present

Chapter 2.3.2 – The ‘Revolutionary’ Present

Όλοι ανεµένατε την Επανάστασιν αυτήν. Μερικοί, ανυπόµονοι και ανήσυχοι. Άλλοι, ήρεµοι και αισιόδοξοι. Και οι περισσότεροι, πεπεισµένοι περί του αναποφεύκτου της. ∆ιότι είχε φθάσει η κρίσιµος στιγµή: Η Ελλάς δεν ήτο πλέον δυνατόν να κυβερνάται όπως πριν. Η ποινή µε την οποίαν την ηπείλει η Ιστορία, ήτο η εξουθένωσις (1969a: 79).

You were all this Revolution. Some, impatient and anxious. Others, calm and optimistic. And most, believing in its inevitability. Because the crucial moment had arrived: Greece could not continue to be governed as before. The punishment with which History had threatened it was destruction.

This chapter examines how Papadopoulos’s lexical presentation of the Revolution serves a single purpose: it aims at setting the regime apart from past governments and periods by highlighting its alleged ability to create a ‘stable’, ‘safe’, ‘democratic’, ‘purifying’, ‘historically unique’ and ‘responsible’ environment capable of leading the present ethnocommunity into a prosperous and healthy future. Papadopoulos approaches this in two ways: firstly, by contrasting the ‘negative’ recent past and the present; secondly, by comparing the distant past with the present. As was just examined, negative terms permeate discussions of the recent past and outline a setting from which the ethnocommunity must unquestionably depart. Significantly, these terms provide a direct contrast with Papadopoulos’s depiction of the ‘positive’ present. Thus, by presenting an incredibly unstable and undesirable economic, political and social recent past, Papadopoulos is also able to foreground the opposite: an allegedly stable and desirable economic, political and social present, which, importantly, has been provided by his and his colleagues’ leadership. In this way, he introduces the ethnocommunity to two

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resolutely separate historical periods: one without the Revolution, which is bad, and one with the Revolution, which is good. Such contrastive methods in political oratory, where a distinction is made between the ‘self’ (the ‘Revolutionary’ present), which is usually good, just and progressive, and the ‘other’ (the ‘negative’ recent past), which, contrastingly, is usually bad, weak and to be avoided, are not unique to Papadopoulos’s political rhetoric. Indeed, they are long-established rhetorical tools underpinning the ‘us versus them’ argument used by all political persuasions, both within Greece and internationally.1 While not unique, Papadopoulos’s frequent use of such rhetorical tools to contrast the ‘negative’ recent past with the allegedly necessary leadership of the Revolution in the present should not be discounted. They are paramount to the cyclicality of his argument: the ‘negative’ recent past necessitated the ‘revolutionary’ present; the ‘revolutionary’ present will create the preconditions for a prosperous future Greece—a Greece that embraces the ideals of the distant past. Thus Papadopoulos attempts to facilitate the positive representation of his regime through such absolute contrasts: the ethnocommunity faced a choice between the Revolution and ‘catastrophe’ (1968a: 67; 1969a: 20) or the Revolution and ‘chaos [and] the catastrophe of Hellenism’ (1968a: 38). Consequently, the Revolution represented the only possible way out of this dramatically ‘negative’ recent past (1968a: 104; 1968b: 112; 1969a: 15). It came to eliminate the threat of a ‘new schism’ (1968a: 82), ‘to put an end to the dangerous and anti-national situation’ facing the nation

1 Van Dijk (1997a: 28) describes these contrasts as ‘polarized evaluations’ and speaks at length about the ‘Ideological Square of positive self-representation and negative other- presentation’, saying:

nationalist and populist appeals in such political argumentation are classical examples of persuading the opposition by making reference to the benefits for the nation or the People (ibid., p. 30).

Fairclough (2000) gives a current account of this type of argument in his analysis of the British Prime Minister Tony Blair’s political rhetoric regarding his ‘new’ Labour Party.

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(1968b: 144) and ‘to keep Greece from sliding towards ’ (1969a: 113). The use of the ‘communist menace’ or an ‘immanent civil war’ to justify the regime’s usurping of power, and its retaining it, is reserved almost exclusively for addresses to the Armed Forces and war veterans. He points out to war veterans, that the fact that the ethnocommunity was ‘collaborating with communists [in the recent past], prescribed the Revolution of the 21st April as a necessity’ (1969b: 57). In a New Year’s Eve message to the Armed Forces, he states that it was only through the Revolution that the nation was freed ‘from an attempt at a hideous civil war, which threatened it’ (1969a: 167). In fact, one of the Revolution’s ‘missions’ was ‘to save the nation from a new communist insurgency’ (1970a: 208); to avert ‘the certain attempt at a catastrophic war’ (1970b: 110). It appears, therefore, that he uses this type of justification predominately with groups who he deems directly experienced ‘the communist menace’ in Greece’s recent history, fought against it and, consequently, could have their fear of a resurgence more readily exploited. This is especially true when it is recalled that Papadopoulos’s addresses to veterans and invalids of war exclude those citizens who fought on the communist side during the Occupation or Civil War. Interestingly, a study conducted among the officer corps in Greece in 1968-9 (Kourvetaris 1971a; 1971b) found that many of these justifications were indeed prevalent among the majority of army officers at this time. Most of those interviewed stated that they favoured intervention because they saw it as a necessary reaction to a ‘communist threat’, ‘political decay’, ‘social inequality’ and ‘decadence of society at large’ (Kourvetaris 1971a: 102). Even though the study was conducted in 1968-9 in Greece among the largely purged and culled Armed Forces, it is difficult to conclude resolutely if such views dominated as genuine beliefs. Many officers saw the newly available positions as a chance to get promoted in

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what has already been noted as a post-war bottleneck within the Armed Forces; therefore, their allegiance to the regime could be deemed incidental rather than supportive. Regardless, Kourvetaris’s findings remain valid for this thesis: such validations were repeatedly given as a justification for the dictatorship usurping power, and remained a justification for it retaining power for seven years. The justification of an impending ‘civil war’ is also found in specific national addresses. In a speech celebrating the third anniversary of the dictatorship—a speech which was given three months after Greece’s withdrawal from the Council of Europe—Papadopoulos speaks of the Revolution’s averting of ‘the certainty of an impending civil war’ (1970b: 113). This justification was still being used in June 1973, in an introduction to one of his last addresses to the nation:

Η Επανάστασις µε την βοήθειά σου και διά κοινής όλων µας προσπαθείας, τα αποτελέσµατα της οποίας εχαρακτηρίσθησαν διεθνώς ως «θαύµα της συγχρόνου Ελλάδος», συνεπλήρωσε πλέον το αποτρεπτικόν και ανορθωτικόν µέρος της αποστολής της. Ο εµφύλιος πόλεµος, ο οποίος επήρχετο απειλητικός, απετράπη. Ο κίνδυνος τελικής επικρατήσεως του καραδοκούντος κοµµουνισµού απεσοβήθη (2004: 211).

The Revolution with your help and through a common endeavour of all of us, the results of which were characterised internationally as ‘the miracle of modern Greece’, finally has completed the preventative and reformative component of its mission. The civil war, which was an oncoming menace, has been prevented. The danger of the final domination of lurking communism has been averted.

Considering that this address was given six years after he assumed power, it is interesting that Papadopoulos still makes the contrast between the ‘negative’ recent past and the ‘revolutionary’ present so acute: a

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‘miraculous’ present under the Revolution presented alongside the backdrop of a ‘menacing’, ‘lurking’, ‘communist civil war’. This acute contrast, however, is coupled with his emphasis on both the national approval of his regime (‘a common endeavour of all of us’) and, importantly, from overseas; that is, it is the international community which has noted the ‘miraculous’ nature of the current regime and that the ‘oncoming menace’ and ‘danger’ have been averted because of this. While mention of an ‘imminent civil war’ may be reserved for the Armed Forces, war veterans and specific national addresses, the repetition of the term communism (κοµµουνισµός, kommounismos) is expanded to include other sectors of the ethnocommunity.2 Though comparatively low, the overall repetition of the term communism is much greater during the first phase—cf. an overall average of 0.5 times per page during the first phase with 0.1 times per page during the second and third phases. In fact, two-thirds of the term’s overall repetition during the first phase occurs in just the first year of the dictatorship. Papadopoulos appears to favour an above-average repetition of the term communism in addresses to the influencers of public opinion both within Greece and overseas. Thus, it appears with above-average frequency in earlier addresses to the press (1968b: 10-17; 1969b: 10-13, 15-21, 123- 32), in an interview with the President of the Christian Crusade (1968a: 125-6), to visiting German MPs (1969a: 20-3) and in an interview with the British Sunday Times (1970b: 156-60).3 Of these addresses, communism

2 In the quantitative analysis of the term communism, the nouns κοµµουνισµός (communism) and κοµµουνιστής (communist), and the adjective, κοµµουνιστικός (communist) are also considered. 3 Curiously, in the last press address mentioned above, the term communism appears an average of 1.5 times per page (1969b: 123-32)—15 times the average during the second phase. There appears to be no significant reason as to this extraordinary high repetition at this time, to this group, nor when the particular speech is examined according to content—this address concerned the reorganisation of the public sector, yet other speeches to the nation or his ministers concerning this very issue, or indeed speeches delivered to the public sector, polled no mention of communism. Nevertheless, the high

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appears with very high frequencies in his first public address to the press, at an average of 3.6 times per page (1968a: 10-17), and in the interview with the President of the Christian Crusade, at an average of 2.9 times per page (1968a: 125-6). It additionally appears in high frequencies in an address to visiting German war veterans, at an average of 2.3 times per page (1968a: 89-90), and in an early address to professionals concerning the Truman Doctrine, with a very high average of 5.7 times per page (1968a: 27-34). In this latter address, which focuses on the ‘benefits’ of the Truman Doctrine to the Greek society and economy, communism is qualified with particularly negative terms: ‘the new “red fascism”’ (1968a: 27), ‘blood-soaked enemy’ (ibid.), ‘treacherous Satan’ (ibid.), the ‘communist beast’ (ibid., p. 27, 28). Complementary to the appearance of the ‘imminent civil war’, communism is repeated in addresses to war veterans (1968a: 36-9) and specific national addresses, such as the one commemorating the first anniversary of the regime (1968b: 112-4) or the one delivered prior to the 1968 Referendum (1969a: 79-82). In fact, he uses the occasion of the pre- 1968 Referendum address to stress that anyone who questions the reality of the ‘imminent civil war’ is either a ‘hypocrite, a , or ignorant’ (1969a: 80). Similarly, in speeches celebrating the military prowess of Greeks, he remains consistent with high repetitions of the term: 3 times in just over half a page (1969a: 57), and averages of 1.6, 1.7 and 4 times per page (1970b: 164-5; 1972: 114-5; 2004: 97-8, respectively) in subsequent years. This latter figure is particularly noteworthy both in that it experiences a significantly high repetition and that the mention of communism is absent from other speeches given in surrounding months. Additionally, it appears curious that he would revisit the term in an address 6 years after he came

frequency in this speech of the term complements Papadopoulos’s introduction of the ‘bacteria of communism’ metaphor, which is discussed in Chapter 3.3.

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to power; that is, at a time where the fear of communism had largely subsided both within society and, importantly to this thesis, in Papadopoulos’s political rhetoric. A possible explanation for this tendency could be that this speech, in celebration of the Greeks’ military prowess, took place five months after Papadopoulos assumed the role of Regent, replacing the King. In this time, there appears to be a flurry of addresses to overseas representatives: interviews with Norwegian, German and US journalists (To Vima 31 May 1972, p.8, and 18 June 1972, p. 1 and 10, respectively), an address to the visiting US foreign minister (To Vima 6 July 1972, pp. 1-2) and to Greek scientists abroad (2004: 92-5). Additionally, this address came just days before the 37th DET addresses, which, as has already been established, were aimed largely at an international audience. It can be argued, therefore, that the increase in the repetition of the term communism, at this time, existed as a result of Papadopoulos’s need additionally to justify his seemingly megalomaniac grasp of power—recalling that his role of Regent was added to his already accumulated portfolio of Prime Minister, Defence Minister, Foreign Minister and Minister of Government Policy. And this increase occurred, importantly, surrounding speeches to a foreign audience. A closer examination of the term communism also provides an important insight into Papadopoulos’s narrative of the past, present and future. Firstly, according to Papadopoulos, communism does not pose a problem in and of itself; it is a problem fostered only within a weak ethnocommunity. Thus, Papadopoulos argues that communism has never been a strength ‘numerically’; rather, it is the product of individuals of a ‘weak mentality’ being influenced by ‘propaganda’ within their ‘sick’ environment (1968a: 29-30, 32, 33, 76, 80, 81, 85, 89, 125; 1968b: 38, 46, 132; 1969a: 57, 79-80, 102; 1969b: 17, 63, 78, 86, 124-5). In this argument, the mythical metaphor of the ‘sirens’ of communism, or the

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‘sirens’ of anarchy—the ‘new’ communism—(1968a: 156; 1968b: 38; 1969a: 132, 147; 1970b: 74, 103; 1972: 144) serves him particularly well; that is, individuals are ‘lured’ to communism; they do not consciously choose it.4 As he tells students and public servants, ‘a Greek communist does not make sense’ (1968a: 156; 1968b: 46, respectively). Simply, communism is not compatible with the ‘Helleno-Christian spirit’ (1969b: 78, 86) or with the Greeks’ education and tradition (1969b: 124-5). It does not project a doctrine of the ‘’; instead, it projects ‘weaknesses’, ‘social injustice’, ‘uncertainty’ ‘venality’ (1968a: 155):

Οδηγεί [άτοµα] ως εχθρούς του εαυτού των, ως εχθρούς του περιβάλλοντός των να ανατρέψουν το καθεστώς, δια να ανοίξουν τον δρόµον της επιβολής της τυραννίας. Και, αλλοίµονον, οι περισσότεροι ελεύθεροι άνθρωποι σήµερον είνα θύµατα αυτής της κοµµουνιστικής µεθόδου (ibid.).

It drives [individuals] as enemies of themselves, as enemies of their environment to overturn the establishment, in order to open the road of the imposition of tyranny. And, alas, the majority of free men today are victims of this communist system.

Communism is the ‘enemy inside the Trojan Horse’ (1968a: 156); that is, hidden, covert, ready to attack. Secondly, Papadopoulos continues to stress that the Revolution was the movement that stopped communism from progressing (1969a: 102). In fact, he is explicit about this from one of his earlier speeches to one of his very last. According to Papadopoulos’s argument, there were two ‘strengths’, two ‘organs of power’ in 1967: communism and the Army (1968a: 125; 2004: 98). Because of this, the Armed Forces, with the

4 Three months after Greece’s withdrawal from the Council of Europe, Papadopoulos uses the ‘sirens’ metaphor to represent those who condemn his regime for torture (1970b: 96).

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Revolution, intervened (ibid.). Furthermore, the new Constitution will prohibit communism from influencing the present and future ethnocommunity once again (1968b: 11). Thus, Papadopoulos continues to contrast the recent past and present by justifying the actions within the latter as a direct response to the activities of the former. Another way that Papadopoulos facilitates the contrast of the ‘good’ of his Revolution with the ‘bad’ of the recent past is through his consistent use of prepositions of time. He frequently couples the term Revolution and/or the dates 20 and 21 April with the prepositions ‘before’ and ‘after’ and the prefixes ‘pre-’ and ‘post-’ (1969a: 20-3; 1969b: 78, 125; 1970b: 24, 71, 156; 1972: 169; 2004: 173). These references, which dominate towards the end of the first phase and during the second phase of the dictatorship, provide a temporal point of reference, locating the Revolution within a historical timeline and resolutely separating one period from the other. Thus, he warns the nation that a return to the ‘pre-Revolutionary’ years would amount to ‘anarchy and social dissolution’ (1969a: 182). He announces to officers in that ‘τα χρώµατα του παρελθόντος κατεκρηµνίσθησαν µετά του παρελθόντος της 20ης Απριλίου’ (the colours of the past were demolished together with the past of the 20th April) (1969b: 69). Two days later, to the political representatives of the Verroia prefecture, he states that:

από της νυκτός της 20ης προς την 21ην Απριλίου, δεν υπάρχει κράτος- κόµµα, υπάρχει κράτος-Έθνος (1969b: 106).

since the night of the 20th to the 21st April, there is no party-state; there is a Nation-state.

This lexical tendency to employ the Revolution as a date-marker is most often present as an aid to distinguish the ‘democratic’ nature of the Revolution from the ‘undemocratic’ backdrop of the ‘negative’ recent past.

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In a series of speeches in northern Greece in March 1969—speeches which are additionally complemented by the above-average frequency of communism (1969b: 61-71, 75-82, 84-93)—Papadopoulos stresses that a ‘true’ democracy could come into being only after 21 April:

Ας µη γελιόµαστε, κύριοι, δεν υπήρχε δηµοκρατία η οποία κατελύθη την 21ης Απριλίου. Γεννάται ήδη η δηµοκρατία (1969b: 69).

Let us not kid ourselves, gentlemen, there was no democracy that was abolished on the 21st April. Democracy is just now being born.

He expands on this distinction, stressing that 21 April represents the change towards democracy and not the end of it:

[Η] πραγµατική Ελληνική ∆ηµοκρατική Πολιτεία, θα είναι κάτι που δεν ηµπορεί, διότι δεν είναι νοητόν να σκεφθή κανείς ότι ηµπορεί, να οµοιάζη µε εκείνην που όχι µόνο απέθανεν, αλλ’ οριστικώς ετάφη την 21ην Απριλίου. ∆εν υπήρξε ∆ηµοκρατία η οποία εθανατώθη την 21ην Απριλίου. Υπήρξε µία αναρχουµένη Πολιτεία [την οποίαν] ούτε εσέβοντο, αλλ’ ούτε επεθύµουν οι πολίται της (1969b: 89-90).

[The] true Greek Democratic Polity will be something that cannot— because it does not make sense for anyone to think it can—resemble that which not only died, but was definitively buried on the 21st April. There was no Democracy that was killed on the 21st April. It was an anarchic Polity [that] its citizens did not respect or want.

Papadopoulos continues using the date 20/21 April with the term democracy. He tells lawyers that democracy was ‘killed’ by political parties years before his regime came to power (1969b: 149) and repeats this notion at the end of a speech to public servants two weeks later:

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Την νύκτα της 20ης προς την 21ην Απριλίου δεν απέθανεν εις τον τόπον αυτόν η ∆ηµοκρατία. Την νύκτα της 20ης προς την 21ην Απριλίου απλώς ο Ελληνικός λαός, αγανακτισµένος [sic] δια την προ πολλού αποθανούσαν εν τη Πολιτεία του ∆ηµοκρατίαν, απεδύθη εις την τιτάνειον προσπάθειαν, την οποίαν αντιµετωπίζοµεν σήµερον, προκειµένου να αναπτύξη την νέαν πραγµατικήν Ελληνικήν Πολιτείαν του εν ∆ηµοκρατία (1969b: 197).

On the night of the 20th to the 21st April, Democracy did not die in this land. Quite simply, on the night of the 20th to the 21st April, the Greek people, indignant that Democracy in their Polity had died long ago, launched themselves into the titanic attempt that we face today in order to develop their new, real Greek Polity Democratically.

In fact, according to Papadopoulos, ‘to accept a democracy similar to that of the 20th April’ would be equivalent to ‘a national crime’ (1969b: 58). The Revolution, therefore, aims at securing conditions that are:

µακράν πάσης οµοιότητος ή σχέσεως µε την πολιτείαν, την οποίαν ενεταφιάσαµεν την νύκτα της 20ης προς την 21ην Απριλίου (1972: 129).

far from any resemblance to or connection with the polity that we buried on the night of the 20th to the 21st April.

Moreover, he stresses that a return to 20 April is no longer possible (1970b: 112) as it is only under the guidance of the Revolution that a ‘healthy democracy is being written’ (1970b: 165; 1972: 115). It is the ‘wisdom and the spirit of the Revolution’ (1968b: 15) that will provide the only truly secure environment in which democracy can flourish. Papadopoulos makes a point of swearing this to the ethnocommunity and including his ‘word’ as one measure of the regime’s resolve:

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Η ειλικρίνειά µας, η διαβεβαίωσίς µας, ο όρκος µου αυτήν την στιγµήν ενώπιον του ελληνικού λαού, θα αποτελή την µόνην ασφαλιστικήν δικλίδα δι’ όλους τους δηµοκράτας (1969a: 51). (Original emphasis.)

Our honesty, our assurance, my oath at this moment before the Greek people, will constitute the only safety valve for all democrats.

He even uses the occasion of his attempted assassination as an argument for and evidence of how ‘democratic’ and ‘free’ present-day Greece actually is:

Με την δηµοκρατικότητα του καθεστώτος την οποίαν έχοµεν, ο καθένας ηµπορεί να κινηθή και να έχη είτε ένα πιστόλι εις την τσέπην του και να πυροβολήση, είτε ένα κοµµάτι δυναµίτιδος εις την τσάντα του και να το βάλη κάπου να εκραγή (1969a: 32).

With the democratic nature of the regime that we have, anyone can either go around with a gun in his pocket and shoot, or a piece of dynamite in his bag and place it somewhere to explode.

According to Papadopoulos, one of the greatest indicators of the ‘democratic’ nature of the regime is manifest in its 1968 Constitution. He makes a clear distinction between badly constructed laws in the past and the consequent need for a new constitution in the present (1968b: 165). With the new Constitution, the ‘weaknesses’ of the past will finally remain there (1968a: 125) because the new Constitution embodies:

την παρρησίαν της αµειλίκτου αντιθέσεώς του προς τον κοµµουνισµόν και δεν τρέφει αυταπάτας (1969a: 81).

the frankness of its unrelenting opposition towards communism and it does not foster delusions.

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The aim of the new Constitution is to ‘cleanse’ old ways (1968a: 125, 128; 1968b: 163), address ‘weaknesses’ inherent in society (1968b: 166), and even be able to distance the ethnocommunity somewhat from the events surrounding the King’s attempted counter-coup (1968b: 10). The use of the 1968 Constitution as a date-marker separating the ‘negative’ recent past from the ‘revolutionary’ present is particularly evident in his address on the eve of the 1968 Referendum (Papadopoulos 1969a: 79-82). Here, he arrives at a discussion of the ‘democratic’, ‘modernised’ and ‘healthy parliament’ of the future that will be provided by the Revolution, only after an extended introduction about the ‘negative’ recent past that was not provided by the Revolution. Furthermore, he emphasises that the new system is essential:

ώστε να αποκλεισθή ο κίνδυνος να προσβληθή η ∆ηµοκρατία από τους ολοκληρωτικούς καπήλους της ∆ηµοκρατίας εν τη ∆ηµοκρατία (1968b: 11).

so that the danger of an attack on Democracy from the totalitarian exploiters of Democracy within Democracy shall be blocked.

Thus, the Constitution represents the inaugural moment of the Greek people’s re-education (1968a: 132; 1969a: 14) and will finally allow them to live a ‘serene, peaceful, healthy political life’ (1969a: 69). It is the ‘most modern Constitution in the world’ (1970a: 37) and, thus, additionally acts as an example for ‘all the people of the earth’ (1968b: 20) because:

αψόγως δηµοκρατικόν, αντανακλά την συστηµατικήν, υπεύθυνον και ιστορικήν προσπάθειαν της Εθνικής Επαναστάσεως της 21ης Απριλίου δια την θεµελίωσιν πολιτικής, κοινωνικής και οικονοµικής δηµοκρατίας (1969a: 81).

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impeccably democratic, it reflects the systematic, responsible and historic attempt of the National Revolution of the 21st April for the foundation of political, social and economic democracy.

The public, he continues, should not concern themselves with whether the Constitution is indeed democratic (1968b: 167); on the contrary, with the new Constitution:

οι εχθροί της δηµοκρατίας, οι οποίοι εµφανίζονται µε το προσωπείον της δηµοκρατίας [...] δεν θα ηµπορούν πλέον να οµιλούν περί ανελευθέρου δικτατορικού καθεστώτος (1969a: 32-3).

the enemies of democracy, who appear wearing the mask of democracy […] will no longer be able to speak about an unfree dictatorial regime.

Thus, it is due to the Revolution that Greece will finally become ‘democratic’, that ‘the fate of the Greeks has been transformed entirely’ (1968b: 112):

Η Ελλάς έχει εξέλθει πλέον από την φάσιν του µαρασµού και των κινδύνων και µε υψηλόν το ηθικόν της οικοδοµεί ένα µέλλον εθνικής ακµής και υγιούς δηµοκρατίας (1969a: 160).

Greece has now come out of the phase of decay and dangers and with its morale high, it is building a future of national prosperity and healthy democracy.

Papadopoulos’s tendency to revisit the danger of the past, particularly in speeches to overseas’ representatives, becomes clearer according to audience composition when the following terms are considered in its

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depiction: κίνδυνος (danger), επικίνδυνος (dangerous), and διακινδυνεύω (to risk). Papadopoulos repeats the concept of danger with above-average frequency in various addresses that also noted an above-average repetition of terms describing the ‘negative’ recent past: his first press address, at an average of 1.8 times per page (1968a: 10-15); his first New Year’s speech to the nation, at an average of 2 times per page (1968a: 104-5); and an address to production workers, at an average of 2.3 times per page (1968b: 35-41). Additionally, danger is heard a high average of 2.7 times per page in a speech to representatives of the Orthodox Church (1969b: 38-9); however, there appears to be no clear reason as to why Papadopoulos would repeat this concept to this audience at this time and it is not a finding that is repeated with this group at another time. Papadopoulos does appear to be, however, more prone to justifying his necessary reactions to the danger inherent within the ethnocommunity, to those living outside of it, particularly those in the USA. Thus, in his interview with the president of the Christian Crusade in the USA (1968a: 125-6) danger is repeated an average of 2.3 times per page. In two very brief messages to Greeks living abroad, the concept appears twice (1969a: 160; 1970b: 87). During the official dinner message for Spiro Agnew, the then Vice President of the USA, it appears an average of 1.66 times per page (1970b: 164-5) and in a speech to Greek and NATO officers at an official dinner in Kavala, it appears an average of 3.8 times per page (2004: 225-6). By focusing on the danger inherent in the present ethnocommunity and predominantly reiterating this fear to those who represent international opinion, Papadopoulos is attempting to justify both the regime’s retaining power and any actions that it subsequently deemed necessary in overcoming this danger.

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Importantly, he also emphasises that, because of his regime, the danger is limited and whatever danger may remain shall continue to decrease as the years pass (1969b: 140). In this way, he presents danger almost as an antithesis to the security prevalent within the nation—a notion that becomes clearer when an examination of the concept is undertaken according to chronology and audience composition. Papadopoulos concept of security considers his repetition of the terms ασφάλεια (security), ασφαλίζω (to secure), ασφαλής (secure), εξασφάλισις and διασφάλισις (securing), θωράκισις (armouring), προστατεύω (to protect), and προστατευόµενος (protected). The concept of security is more prominent during the first and second phases (0.7 and 0.8 times per page, respectively) than during the third phase (0.4 times per page). This reflects Papadopoulos’s need to focus on the ‘safe’ environment provided by the Revolution, more in the initial years of establishing its rule. Security appears with above-average frequency in certain speeches for no ascertainable reason. For example, it is present only is some speeches to the education sector (1968b: 56-62, 64-8; 1970b: 37-8; 1972: 105-8), to scientists (1968b: 72-7), to the committee of the Evangelismos treatment centre (1969b: 26-8) and to members of the Union of Greek Industrialists (1969b: 134-41). While it does appear an average of 1.2 and 1.33 times per page in speeches to public servants and to the nation regarding the reorganisation of the public sector (1968b: 43-9; 1969a: 120-1), this is by no means consistent according to speech content or audience composition. While the notion of security is repeated with above-average frequency in various speeches to particular audiences at particular times for no apparent reason, some patterns become evident as to audience composition when the concept is analysed. The above-average repetition of the concept to representatives of shipping (1969b: 152-7; 1970b: 126-9)—the latter example representing a

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particularly high average of 2.9 times per page—could be explained by the regime’s consistent attempts to offer this sector incentives, whereby their foreign-registered ships would sail under Greek flags. This conclusion, however, cannot be maintained across all sectors that were provided with favourable conditions under the dictatorship. Farmers, for example, only note one address with an above-average repetition of the concept of security (1968b: 98-100) and that is one week after Papadopoulos’s announcement of the abolition of agricultural debts. His insistence, therefore, on the security within Greece to the representatives of shipping should be viewed, instead, as an attempt, on his part, to assure potential international investors that Greece’s climate was indeed ‘safe’. Comparatively, this motivation for stressing the security in the present is also reflected in speeches to official representatives overseas: the president of the Christian Crusade in the USA (1968a: 125-6); and to NATO (1969a: 123-4; 2004: 225-6) and US government officials (1972: 138; To Vima 6 July 1972, p. 1)—a tendency that will be recalled mimics the repetition of danger. Security also appears with above-average frequency in a number of press addresses (1968a: 10-15, 17-23, 94-7; 1968b: 10-17; 1969a: 151-9; 1969b: 219-20; 1970b: 58-60, 64-75, 156- 60; 1972: 30-1). Similarly, security appears in high frequencies in various DET addresses, which also catered to an international audience: eight averages of 2.1, 1.5, 2.3, 1.2, 2.4, 1.33, 1, 1.5 times per page (1969a: 42-6, 48-52; 1970b: 12-15, 17-22; 1972: 119-20, 122-30; 2004: 100-1, 107-14, respectively). Additionally, in an address during the second phase of the dictatorship, he assures Greeks living abroad that Greece today is:

[µία] όασι[ς] γαλήνης, τάξεως και δηµιουργικής εργασίας [επειδή] ουδέποτε άλλοτε ο τόπος αυτός διεκυβερνήθη µε την συνείδησιν ευθύνης έναντι του Έθνους, την οποίαν έχει η Επανάστασις (1972: 45).

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[an] oasis of serenity, order and creative work [because] at no other time has this land been governed with the sense of responsibility to the Nation, which the Revolution has.

This tendency, therefore, indicates that Papadopoulos’s consistent choice of stressing the current security within the nation is indeed motivated by the fact that his audiences would subsequently report these ‘favourable’ conditions to the public at large, both within Greece and overseas. While there are fewer instances of an above-average frequency of security when he addresses the nation as a whole (1970b: 79-81; 1972: 49-50; 2004: 165-6), it does appear in particularly noteworthy numbers in specific speeches. It appears a very high average of 4.2 times per page in a speech delivered to the nation after his attempted assassination (1969a: 32-3)—a time when presumably he felt the need to stress the alleged safety and calm within the nation. It also appears with above-average frequency in four anniversary speeches celebrating the dictatorship (1968b: 112-14, 134; 1972: 76-8; 2004: 199-200) and two speeches delivered at the end of the year, which aimed at ‘celebrating’ the regime’s achievements (1969a: 136-49; 1972: 33-43). The former of these end-of-year addresses (1969a: 136-49) is particularly noteworthy as it sustained references to security of an average of 1.7 times per page over almost 14 pages. Delivered at the end of the dictatorship’s second year—following the first referendum, following his assassination attempt, close in time to the first official reports of continued torture under the regime—it is evident that Papadopoulos felt the need to focus on the ‘safe’ environment under his leadership. Citizens of various prefectures outside of the major city centres were not forgotten; they too were reminded with above-average frequency of the question of present-day security under the regime (1968b: 144-9, 154-5; 1969b: 48-59, 61-71, 75-82, 84-93, 99-109, 193-8).

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The above-average repetition of security to government representatives (1969a: 177-8; 1969b: 23-4; 1970b: 51-5, 139-41, 143-6; 1972: 132-4, 156-7) could be indicative of Papadopoulos’s wish to reiterate the superiority of the security provided by the regime to those who represented it. This could also explain why there is an above-average repetition of the concept in both addresses to the Security Forces in January 1968 (1968a: 131-7, 138-43), with a particularly high average of 2 times per page in their first address. The concept of security also features prominently in addresses that concerned the 1968 Constitution (1968a: 29-33; 1969a: 66-73, 79-82, 84- 5)—with a particularly high average of 3.6 times per page in the first such address, delivered to the press. As has previously been examined, Papadopoulos presented both constitutions as the pinnacle of the Revolution’s ‘attempt’ to secure a ‘democratic’, ‘stable’ and ‘safe’ environment for the ethnocommunity. Additionally, Papadopoulos uses the concept of security to present himself as supremely adequate to the task of ‘protecting’ the nation. Towards the end of the third phase, he tells those in the education sector that he will be the one to ‘protect’ the ‘public order and the serenity of the Greek people’ (2004: 184). This statement, to this group, at this time, should be seen as a warning to both an educational sector that was growing increasingly vocal against the regime and to those within his own government who were becoming increasingly unsure of his ability to control the growing and collective activity against his regime within the education sector. The Revolution, however, is not only necessary for the security of Greece but, as he begins to stress from the second phase of the dictatorship onwards, now, it cannot and should not be replaced. For example, when lawyers are told about the futility of concerning themselves

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‘with whether or not the Revolution should have happened’ (1969b: 146) he uses an unusual analogy to emphasise this point:

Έχετε, ίσως—δεν αναφέροµαι σε τίποτε συγκεκριµένον—πολλοί από υµάς κολλήσει την βελόνα εις την νύκτα της 20ης προς την 21ην Απριλίου 1967 και συνεχώς λαλείτε, όπως λαλεί το γραµµόφωνον όταν κολλήση η βελόνα, τον ίδιον στίχον, εάν έπρεπε να γίνη ή όχι η Επανάστασις. Η Επανάστασις έγινε την 21ην Απριλίου και ήδη βαδίζει προς την πραγµάτωσιν των αντικειµενικών της σκοπών. [...] ∆εν υπάρχει ούτε εις το εσωτερικόν, ούτε εις το εξωτερικόν δύναµις ικανή να ανατρέψη την Επανάστασιν (ibid., p. 148).

Many of you—I am not referring to anything in particular—have perhaps stuck the needle [of the record] on the night of the 20th to the 21st April 1967 and continually repeat, as the gramophone repeats the same verse when the needle is stuck, about whether the Revolution should have happened or not. The Revolution happened on the 21st April and is already marching towards the realisation of its objective aims. [...] There is no internal or external power capable of overthrowing the Revolution.

Both the merchant marine (1968b: 31) and the press (1969b: 153) are told that any opposition to the regime or desire to see it depart is futile as the regime represents that which ‘is necessary for the Greek People’ (ibid.). Similarly, industrialists are told that there is ‘no power’ that can forbid the regime its authority (1969b: 134) and, in a later address, reminded that history will be the only judge of whether or not the leadership acted well or badly (1969b: 134). Additionally, Papadopoulos emphasises the futility inherent in questioning the regime, its presence or its policies by asserting that its existence is only temporary; it is a mere parenthesis bridging the ‘negative’ recent past and the ‘prosperous’ and ‘glorious’ future. For example, when

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speaking to visiting German ministers about the nation’s timely return to parliamentary democracy, he focuses on the regime’s temporary status:

Έχοµεν δηλώσει ότι η Επανάστασις θα είναι µία παρένθεσις, ότι έχοµεν τον σκοπόν η παρένθεσις αυτή να διαρκέση το µικρότερον δυνατόν χρονικόν διάστηµα και ότι, µόλις εκπληρωθούν οι ελάχιστοι στόχοι µας, θα επανέλθωµεν εις τον κοινοβουλευτισµόν (1969a: 20).

We have declared that the Revolution will be a parenthesis, that we intend that this parenthesis will continue for as short a time as possible, and that, as soon as our minimal aims are met, we will return to a parliamentary system.

This notion of the regime remaining only to fulfil the allegedly shared ‘objectives’ of the ethnocommunity and to create the necessary preconditions that detach it from the negative ways of the recent past and propel it to the positive ways of the future, is also repeated to the press during question time:

Θα επανέλθη το Έθνος, µετά την παρένθεσιν της Επαναστάσεως, εις τον υγιά δηµόσιον βίον (1969a: 134).

The Nation will return, after the Revolution’s parenthesis, to a healthy public life.

Using the same notion of a parenthesis, he requalifies his regime to industrialists by negating its dictatorial nature, and focusing on its temporary, yet necessary, existence:

∆εν ήλθοµεν ως ένα προσωποπαγές δικτατορικόν καθεστώς, δια να καθίσωµεν εις τον τράχηλον του ελληνικού λαού. Ήλθοµεν ως µία παρένθεσις, αναγκαία παρένθεσις (1969b: 134).

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We did not come as a personal dictatorial regime to sit on the neck of the Greek people. We came as a parenthesis, a necessary parenthesis.

Papadopoulos’s insistence that the regime was necessary as a bridge from the ‘negative’ recent past to the ‘glorious’ future is also evident when an examination of the concept of cleansing or purification is undertaken. This term considers the terms εκκαθάρισις (cleansing), εκκαθαρίζω (to cleanse), αποκαθαίρω (to purge), εξυγίανσις (purification), εξυγιάνω (to purify), and κάθαρσις (purification, catharsis). While the concept’s overall repetition across the corpus of his speeches is comparatively low, it is noticeably more dominant during the first and third phases: an overall average of 0.4 and 0.3 during the first and third phases, respectively, with a 0.1 average during the second. This increased frequency during the first phase reflects Papadopoulos’s focus on that the problems of society were the primary reason why the regime came to power. During the third phase, it reflects his focus on why, in spite of mounting collective opposition against the regime from both within Greece and internationally, the Revolution must still remain; that is, there are still elements within the ethnocommunity that need to be cleansed. There are examples of an above-average repetition of cleansing to various audiences at different times for no discernible reason. For example, the press have the concept repeated with a noted regularity of almost once per page (1968a: 17-23, 55-60; 1968b: 29-33), though only in some of the earlier speeches. Similarly, while the 1.1-times-per-page average to public servants (1968a: 116-20) rises to a 2-times-per-page average when this sector is addressed in (1969a: 207-13), other speeches to this sector, in this area, at the time (1969a: 173-8, 193-8), do not reflect the same tendency. Other examples of an above-average frequency of cleansing are an interview with the president of the Christian

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Crusade, at an average of 1.7 times per page (1968a: 125-6) and lawyers, at an average of 2.66 times per page (1968a: 128-9). The concept of cleansing is repeated with above-average frequency, however, also in particular addresses to specific audiences at specific times. For example, in speeches given on the eve of both the 1968 and 1973 referendums, cleansing is repeated at an average of 0.9 and 1.5 times per page (1969a: 79-82; 2004: 228-35, respectively). On the first and second New Year’s Eve addresses, Papadopoulos repeats the concept 1 and 2.3 times per page (1968a: 104-5; 1969a: 166-7, respectively). Similarly, cleansing is repeated an average of once per page in the first three 21 April anniversary speeches (1968b: 112-4; 1970a: 34-6; 1970b: 112-4). The common theme that unites all of these above-average frequencies is that they all occur in speeches that attempt to highlight how the regime benefits the present ethnocommunity; that is, with new constitutions that aim at cleansing the past, and with a new government, the Revolution, which has this cleansing as its primary aim. The findings in the yearly DET addresses are also of interest. In the first two DET welcome addresses, cleansing is repeated an average of 1.1 and 1 time per page (1969a: 42-6; 1970b: 10). During this first DET dinner address, at the end of August 1968, Papadopoulos stresses that the Revolution will stop at nothing to succeed in cleansing the nation (1969a: 51). In the dinner message of the 37th DET, four years later, he spends a particularly long time focusing on the need to cleanse society, with a 2.6- average repetition of the concept (2004: 107-14). This particularly high average during the third phase should be seen in chronological context. The speech was delivered only a few months after he became Regent, which, according to Papadopoulos, was another significant step towards improving Greece. Additionally, vocal and collective opposition against the regime was mounting, thus, necessitating a greater emphasis on how the recent past had still not been purified enough to warrant the regime’s

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departure; on the contrary, it necessitated more policy shifts and that it remain to enact them. In the two earlier addresses to the Security Forces, the concept of cleansing is repeated high averages of 2.4 and 1.5 times per page (1968a: 131-7; 138-43). While the overall instances per page are comparatively fewer in the latter of the two addresses, Papadopoulos’s repetition here is noteworthy in that he uses the concept to describe three ‘fundamental aims’ of the Revolution: cleansing and reorganising public life; cleansing and the development of economic politics; and cleansing the social mentality of individuals in society (1968a: 138). He elaborates on the latter aim a few days later in a speech to his ministers—where cleansing is repeated an average of 2.5 times per page (1968a: 145-6)—emphasising that this is both a ‘right’ and a ‘duty’ of the Revolution:

Η ηθική και πολιτική εξυγίανσις του κρατικού µηχανισµού δεν είναι απλώς δικαίωµα της Επαναστάσεως. Είναι στοιχειώδες καθήκον έναντι του Έθνους και του Λαού (1968a: 145).

The moral and political cleansing of the state mechanism is not simply the right of the Revolution. It is an essential duty towards the Nation and the People.

Furthermore, through both this example and the ensuing one, which is also delivered to his ministers, it becomes evident that this cleansing is, in fact, what motivates the regime to remain. It is not a personal political ambition that keeps it there; rather, it is for the benefit of the ethnocommunity:

Σας ερωτώ: Η Επανάστασις έγινε, δια να αντικαταστήση η Κυβέρνησις της Επαναστάσεως εις την διακυβέρνησιν της χώρας τους προηγουµένως διαχειριζοµένους την εξουσίαν πολιτικούς άνδρας αυτής, να τους δώση

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την ευκαιρίαν να ξεκουρασθούν και να επανέλθουν δριµύτεροι εν τη ανευθυνότητί των, προκειµένου να καταστρέψουν ό,τι εδηµιούργησεν η Επανάστασις; Όχι, κύριοι, δεν έγινε δι’ αυτό η Επανάστασις. Η Επανάστασις έγινε, δια να επιτύχη το Ελληνικόν Έθνος την αναδηµιουργίαν του (1972: 57).

I ask you: Did the Revolution happen in order for the Government of the Revolution to replace those politicians who previously governed the country, to give them the opportunity to rest and to return more keenly in their irresponsibility in order to ruin all that the Revolution created? No, gentlemen, the Revolution did not happen for this reason. The Revolution happened so that the Greek Nation could succeed in its recreation.

A quantitative analysis of the term freedom and its cognates yields similar results.5 While the concept of cleansing is used to stress a causal relationship between the periods of past, present and future (the ‘negative’ elements of the recent past necessitated the purification of the present for a ‘healthy’ future), freedom is used to contrast the alleged conditions in the present under the regime, with the alleged conditions of the ‘negative’ recent past. Papadopoulos suggests that, under the regime, the ethnocommunity is truly free, and that this is something that it had not experienced under governments in the recent past. Thus, freedom is repeated almost twice as many times during the first phase as during the second or third phases—cf. the overall averages of 1.1, 0.6, 0.6 times per page during the first, second and third phases, respectively. This indicates Papadopoulos’s need to focus, during the initial years of his rule, both on the importance of the present ethnocommunity’s

5 In the quantitative analysis of freedom, the following terms are considered: ελευθερία (freedom), ελεύθερος (free), φιλελεύθερος (‘freedom-phile’; not in the sense of ‘liberal’), απελευθερωτικός (liberating), απελευθέρωση (liberation), and απελευθερώνω (to free).

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need to detach itself from methods of the recent past, as well as the alleged inherent freedoms under the regime in the present. With this in mind, the particularly high averages of freedom in Papadopoulos’s first few speeches—to representatives of desalination: 4 times in a one-page speech (1968a: 25); and to professionals regarding the Truman Doctrine: an average of 4.2 times per page (1968a: 27-34)—should be seen as motivated by time rather than audience. These tendencies are not shared with the same audiences later. There do appear to be tendencies to repeat freedom to particular audiences. For example, there is a clear tendency to repeat this term in speeches to the Greek and foreign press (1968a: 10-15, 41-4, 78-87; 1968b: 10-17, 29-33; 1969a: 131-4; 1969b: 15-21; 1970b: 24-31, 93-104) and other representatives of foreign opinion (1968a: 125-6; 1969a: 20-3, 25-6, 48-52; 1970b: 87; 1972: 67; 2004: 103-6). The motivation for this would be akin to that for security: wishing to emphasise that Greece, under the regime, is a truly ‘democratic’ nation. Freedom also appears with above-average frequency in speeches to those Papadopoulos deemed were the ‘protectors’ of it: veterans and invalids of war (1968a: 36-9, 89-90), the Security Forces (1968a: 131-7), and almost all speeches to the Armed Forces (1968b: 70; 1969a: 102; 1970b: 47, 89; 1972: 18, 47, 69, 148, 182; 2004: 45, 120-1, 197). It is also repeated with high frequencies in speeches honouring the military prowess of Greeks (1968b: 176-8; 1970b: 164-5); particularly, in the former (1968b: 176-8) with a very high average of 6 times per page. It appears with an exceptionally high 8 times in just over a page in a speech to NATO representatives (1969a: 123-4)—a speech which caters both to the ‘protectors’ of freedom and an international body, which he would hope to assure of the freedoms within the nation. Such a consistent tendency to stress the freedoms that have been awarded to the nation through the Revolution is certainly noteworthy. One

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might suspect that Papadopoulos is motivated by his audience’s understanding of what it means to be free; that is, a state which is achieved only through sacrifice, courage and bravery during a collective struggle, such as the War of Independence (whose slogan ‘Freedom or Death’ would certainly come to mind) or, more recently, the Occupation or the Civil War. Papadopoulos exploits the concept of freedom through consistent repetition of it to these groups in the hope of persuading his audience that the present ethnocommunity, under the leadership of the Revolution, is indeed in a more secure, safe and orderly position than it has been in the recent past, without the Revolution. Furthermore—as will become clearer in the ensuing discussion of the parallels which he draws between various struggles in the past and his regime—it aims at locating the current situation of the Revolution, among the victories of the past; that is, all such struggles have been successfully and courageously fought and won to achieve the ethnocommunity’s freedom. The notion of freedom also appears with above-average frequency in addresses to the agricultural sector (1968a: 72-6; 1968b: 90-6) and to citizens outside the major centres (1968a: 107-8; 1968b: 144-9, 154-5; 1969b: 48-59; 1970b: 120-4; 2004: 60-2, 152-3). Though this tendency is by no means consistent across audiences or over time, what is particular to these addresses is the emphasis Papadopoulos places on the Revolution being the body that would provide such new freedoms (1968a: 107; 1968b: 100, 151; 1969b: 50; 1970b: 122). And because, as he asserts, ‘Επανάστασις σηµαίνει επαναστατικήν µέθοδον δράσεως’ (Revolution means revolutionary methods of action) (1968b: 151), in addition to releasing farmers from their debts:

η Κυβέρηνησις έσπασε τας αλυσίδας της αδρανείας, που σας εκρατούσαν δεµένους µε το παρελθόν (1968b: 99).

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the Government broke the chains of inactivity, which kept you tied to the past.

The notion of freedom is repeated in numerous addresses, which do not appear to share a commonality across audience or over time. Interestingly, however, the freedom is qualified differently in each sector. For example, to lawyers (1968b: 19-23), the freedom is evident through new laws and the new constitutions. To scientists (1968b: 72-7, 102-8), public servants (1969b: 193-8) and government representatives (1969a: 10-18; 2004: 19-30), the freedom is evident through new methods of practice, delivered by the regime. To students (1968b: 79-88) and the youth (1972: 71-2), freedom is assured once they understand the importance of working collectively with the regime, towards a future free of the methods of the ‘negative’ recent past. There are patterns that are evident according to audience composition, time, and/or speech content. For example, Papadopoulos tends to repeat freedom in particular national addresses, which also aimed at highlighting the alleged freedom offered by the current regime. Thus, freedom is repeated with above-average frequency in the speech delivered after his attempted assassination (1969a: 32-3), in the speeches prior to the 1968 and 1973 referendums on the new constitutions (1969a: 79-82; 2004: 228-35, respectively) and in the victory speech for the latter (2004: 238-9). It also appears with above-average frequency in New Year’s Eve messages (1969a: 166-7; 1972: 49-50) and in the speech celebrating the third anniversary of the Revolution (1970b: 112-4)—the first such speech following Greece’s withdrawal from the Council of Europe; ironically, because of mounting allegations about and evidence of the destruction of the said freedom under his regime. So far, an extensive examination has been undertaken to show how Papadopoulos uses the Revolution of 21 April as a date-marker to separate

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the ‘negative’ recent past from the present. He continuously highlights the negative aspects of the recent past, such as communism and other inherent dangers, to provide a justification for his regime in the present—a regime, which, according to his rhetoric, continues to provide democracy, security and freedom and cleanse the impurities of the recent past for a more glorious future. As has already been intimated in the opening paragraph of this chapter, Papadopoulos also uses the Revolution of 21 April to link the regime to the desirable qualities of a distant past; qualities, which, he emphasises, the regime is determined the ethnocommunity must re- embrace for the future. Here too, the Revolution is cast as the only means of achieving this aim, because, as he notes in the dinner address at the 33rd DET, it is only ‘through the Revolution’ that the ethnocommunity will be able to succeed:

[εις] αυτό που αποτελεί επιταγήν του παρελθόντος και επιταγήν του µέλλοντος της Ελλάδος, επιταγήν της ιστορίας µας (1969a: 50m).

[in] that which constitutes a demand of the past, a demand of the future of Greece, a demand of our history.

In fact, it is through this repeated notion of a ‘historical demand’ or ‘order’ that Papadopoulos additionally attempts to justify the regime’s initial and continued presence. The Revolution, therefore, was and remains a ‘historical necessity’ (1968a: 79; 1969a: 84)—a notion that is integral to Papadopoulos’s rhetoric and cyclical argument.6 Furthermore, ‘nobody can doubt’ this ‘historical necessity’ (1969a: 84; 1970a: 37), nor that it is, in fact, a ‘historical demand’ (1968b: 114; 1969a: 50, 146; 1969b: 63, 73, 99,

6 This notion was so much a part of Papadopoulos’s cyclical argument that he continues to espouse this view almost two decades later in a letter to the National Political Coalition (EPEN, Εθνική Πολιτική Ένωσις) (1984: 1).

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156, 198; 1972: 20, 119). Thus, using the inclusive ‘we’, Papadopoulos places both the Revolution and the ethnocommunity at the crossroads between the distant past and the future:

δια να επιτύχωµεν αυτό πού ιστορικώς µας επιτάσσεται και πρός το οποίον οφείλοµεν να αποβλέψωµεν δια το µέλλον (1969b: 93).

so that we can succeed in that which historically is ordained of us and to which we are obliged to aspire for the future.

Papadopoulos presents the Revolution as part of a historical continuum in Greece’s long history. He tells the press that just as in the past, where moments in Greece’s history have constituted an ‘exceptional example’, so too does the regime wish to constitute the ‘exception’ now (1970b: 29). He begins a speech that celebrated the military prowess of Greeks by stating that it was his regime that:

ενηρµόνισε τας ανάγκας του παρόντος προς τα ζωτικά στοιχεία της κληρονοµίας του ελληνικού παρελθόντος (1970b: 164).

harmonised the needs of the present with the vital elements of the inheritance of the Greek past.

Papadopoulos argues for this historical continuity between the distant past and present by, firstly and dominantly, parallelling the aims and qualities of the Revolution with those of previous struggles deemed ‘glorious’ in Greece’s history. The struggles that he notes are the Greek Revolution of 1821 and the War of Independence (1821-8), the successful campaign against the Italians prior to the Occupation (1940-1), and the Civil War (1943-9)—always to the exclusion of those fighting on the communist side.

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Papadopoulos predominantly parallels his regime with the Greek Revolution of 1821 and the War of Independence (1821-8)—a struggle that united the Greek people in a common cause to fight their foreign occupant, the , and gain independence as a nation. This struggle was one wherein Greeks won the right to live their own culture, their own heritage, their own religion, their own language autonomously. Moreover, this right was achieved through bravery, sacrifice and complete selflessness; a struggle of individuals for a unified cause. It was a struggle that propelled Greece into a new epoch; made it a new nation. Papadopoulos exploits such representations of the War of Independence and presents them as akin to those of his own regime; that is, through bravery, sacrifice, and complete selflessness, the Revolution of 21 April exists to fight Greece’s enemies within and propel the nation into a future where, once again, it can re-embrace its glorious heritage, culture, and religion. Moreover, as has already been shown in previous chapters, like the War of Independence, Papadopoulos presents his regime as a collective effort; a group of individuals united in a common and important cause. Again employing the rhetorical formula of ‘not a or b or c; but d’, he assures Greeks overseas that:

η Επανάστασις της 21ης Απριλίου δεν ήτο κίνηµα προσώπων ή οµάδων ή κοινωνικών τάξεων. Υπήρξεν εθνεγερσία (1968a: 52).

the Revolution of the 21st April was not a revolt by individuals or groups or social classes. It was a national uprising.

Similarly, in a speech to the Armed Forces, he begins by speaking about the importance of the War of Independence and ends the speech by noting that the same fundamental need has also dictated the ‘duty’ of his regime:

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[Η Επανάστασις της 21ης Απριλίου] υπηγορεύθη από την διπλήν ανάγκην, να διαφυλαχθή η κληρονοµία του 1821 και να παρασχεθούν εις το ελληνικόν Έθνος αι δυνατότητες, όπως εισέλθη εις την µεγάλην λεωφόρον της προόδου και συνεχίση την υψηλήν αποστολήν του εντός της κοινωνίας των εθνών (1968b: 70).

[The Revolution of the 21st April] was dictated by a double need: to secure the inheritance of 1821 and to give the Greek Nation the possibility to enter the great avenue of progress and continue its great mission within the community of nations.

Thus, the regime’s motivation becomes the same as the motivation for the War of Independence in 1821: the honourable and selfless fight to uphold the vital legacy of Hellenism, Christianity and the freedom of the Greek people.7 He stresses that this inheritance needs to be protected at all costs (1968b: 185) and that the regime is the most qualified to lead the ethnocommunity successfully in this task. He draws similar parallels between other dates in history. For example, to an audience of veterans and invalids of war, he draws a parallel between the way Greece ‘raised the flag of battle’ during the civil war and, once again, on 21 April 1967 (1968b: 177). Here, he attempts to show that both moments in history were motivated by the need to expel the enemies from within the nation—in both cases, communists—and, in this way, provide security and freedom to their respective ethnocommunities. With such historical parallels, the Revolution is often identified with the Armed Forces, and his parallels to particular moments in history most often occur in speeches to this group. Both of these tendencies are

7 The importance of these values being upheld in the present and future ethnocommunity will be discussed in the following chapter.

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motivated by the same factors: the need to draw a commonality between all such historical moments and designate the Armed Forces as the natural shapers of the modern Greek state. He speaks of the significance of celebrating the fourth anniversary of his Revolution in the same year as the 150th anniversary of the 1821 National Revolution is being celebrated (1972: 76). According to Papadopoulos, both dates represent the same need to free the ethnocommunity from the chains of the past (1968b: 70) and both display the Armed Forces’ historical continuity as the protector of Greece (1970b: 47; 1972: 148; 2004: 45, 197). By attributing all past and current historical ‘moments’ to the Armed Forces, Papadopoulos is again able to present his audience as not simply a significant part of a glorious historical process, but as the actual bearers of that historical process:

Η τελευταία προσφορά σας, η Επανάστασις της 21ης Απριλίου, δια της οποίας επραγµατώσατε τους πόθους του Έθνους εις µίαν κρίσιµον ιστορικήν στιγµήν, είναι ηθικώς ισότιµος προς τας ενδοξοτέρας επιδόσεις των ελληνικών ενόπλων δυνάµεων εις τα πεδία των µαχών (1969a: 167).

Your latest offering, the Revolution of the 21st April, through which you realised the Nation’s aspirations in one crucial historical moment, is ethically equal to the most glorious performances of the Greek armed forces in the battlefields.

Similarly, in a later speech to the Armed Forces, he emphasises that 28 October (which precipitated the Albanian campaign of 1940-1) and 21 April should be celebrated for the same reasons: both dates represent the Armed Forces’ continuing need to protect the nation against new dangers (1972: 18). He continues to elaborate on the exceptional qualities of the former—‘a glorious landmark in the history of Hellenism’, ‘the finest proof of national continuity’, ‘the highest traditions of and self-

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sacrifice’, ‘a moving force for the Greek soul’ and providing ‘the fruit of worldwide historical significance’ (ibid.)—and as the parallel between the two periods had already been made, these exceptional qualities are transferred also onto his own regime. Thus, he reasons, if 28 October represents a ‘µέγαν σταθµόν όχι µόνον της πλουσίας εις ανατάσεις ιστορίας µας, αλλά και της παγκοσµίου ιστορίας’ (a great landmark not only in our exaltations of history, but in world history’ (1972: 148), then so too does 21 April. While he does indeed compare previous struggles to that of the current regime and states that they are all ‘of the same historical quality’ (1970b: 89), he still casts the regime in a special light by pointing out that it is historically unique:

Η Επανάσταση της 21ης Απριλίου αποτελεί µοναδικήν εξαίρεσιν εις την ιστορίαν των επαναστάσεων (1972: 49).

The Revolution of the 21st April constitutes a unique exception in the history of revolutions.

Understandably, Papadopoulos reiterates this historical uniqueness of his regime to the nation on the first anniversary of the dictatorship (1968b: 112):

Η Επανάστασις της 21ης Απριλίου αντιπροσωπεύει την µεγαλυτέραν και σοβαρωτέραν προσπάθειαν ανορθώσεως, αναδιοργανώσεως και εξυγιάνσεως, η οποία έγινεν εις την Ελλάδα από της ανακτήσεως της εθνικής Ανεξαρτησίας. Και θα επιτύχη, διότι εκφράζει την αναγκαιότητα της ιστορικής επιταγής (1968b: 114).

The Revolution of the 21st April represents the greatest and most serious attempt at restoration, reorganisation and cleansing that has

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happened in Greece since the regaining of national Independence. And it will succeed because it reflects the urgency of the historical demand.

He also notes the ‘historical uniqueness’ of his regime in speeches to the Armed Forces (1970b: 110; 1972: 74), and he tells the nation in a New Year’s Eve message that the Revolution, in fact, ‘creates history’ (1972: 49). Importantly, one cannot discount that Papadopoulos deemed his regime so ‘historically unique’ that he presents it as a Revolution, consistently with a capital letter, and in so doing, awards it a ‘landmark’ status like other stations in history. Additionally, the new constitutions are used as examples of the regime’s uniqueness. He argues that the new 1968 Constitution will not only continue the ‘by now, eternal Greek political history’ (1969a: 81), but explicitly monumentalises the historical moment:

Το νέον Σύνταγµα θα µείνη µέγας σταθµός εις την ιστορίαν της Ελλάδος (1969a: 167).

The new Constitution will remain as a great landmark in the history of Greece.

The 1973 Referendum on the new Constitution evokes more references from Papadopoulos to a ‘new chapter of Greece’s history’ (2004: 228, 235, 238, 239). Moreover, all references occur in the opening and closing paragraphs of the speeches that both precede and follow the Referendum, thus further stressing their content. It appears, therefore, that here, Papadopoulos felt the need to emphasise the ‘new phase of National and Political history’ (2004: 242) more than at any other time. This was towards the end of his rule where opposition to his regime was mounting both within his own ranks, within Greece and overseas. His grip on complete and undisturbed power was loosening and, in the new

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Constitution, he found the means of emphasising the significance of his and his regime’s continued existence: a new system had to be devised and implemented to ensure the ‘blissful’ future of the ethnocommunity. And this, he notes, is a ‘historical responsibility’ of the entire ethnocommunity in the present, because this ‘demand’ to remain faithful to history:

δεν αποτελεί απόφασιν ιδικήν µου. Αποτελεί επιταγήν ιδικήν σας. Το ιδικόν σας συµφέρον πρέπει να εξυπηρετηθή (1969b: 77).

it is not my own decision. It is your own demand. Your own interests must be served.

In fact, many different groups throughout the dictatorship are reminded of this collective ‘responsibility’ and ‘obligation’ to uphold Greece’s historical legacy for future : students (1968a: 149), lawyers (1968b: 21), the press (1968b: 31; 1970b: 96), the Armed Forces (1969b: 63), the merchant marine (1969b: 156), public servants (1969b: 198, 209), Greeks abroad (1970b: 87), participants at the 36th DET (1972: 119), the nation (1969a: 146) and various prefectures of Greece (1969b: 73, 77, 99). It is the Armed Forces, however, that are assured that these ‘obligations’ have been fulfilled by ‘their initiative’ on the 21st April 1967 and, that it is because of this ‘initiative’ that the nation can feel ‘at ease’ and finally look to the future ‘optimistically’ (2004: 121). Additionally, Papadopoulos assures his audience in a short address concerning the awarding of the medal of the City of Athens to him that his dedication to the task is both unrivalled and steadfast:

Θα αναλώσω το σύνολον των δυνάµεών µου, προκειµένου να φανώ αντάξιος και των προσδοκιών αλλά και των αναγκών των ιστορικών στιγµών, που διέρχεται σήµερον η Πατρίς µας (1968b: 129).

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I will expend all of my strength, in order to appear worthy of both the expectations and the needs of the historical moments which our Fatherland is going though.

In conclusion, Papadopoulos parallels both the recent and distant past with the Revolution of the 21st April in the present through particular lexical choices. Both parallels attempt to justify the regime’s presence in Greece. The former aims at providing a resolute contrast between dangers, such as communism, of the ‘negative’ recent past and the democratic, free, secure, cleansing present. The latter aims at comparing the ideals that were monumentalised in past struggles with the same ideals that are expressed in the present by the regime. Thus, Papadopoulos compares the National Revolution of 1821, the Albanian Campaign of 1941-2, and fighting the communists during the ensuing Civil War to his Revolution of the 21st April. By doing this, he aims at highlighting their purported commonalities: a shared endeavour, a united struggle in order to protect the legacy of Hellenism, Christianity and freedom in Greece; a struggle motivated by the greater good; a struggle undertaken for the benefit of future ethnocommunities. In this contrast of the recent past and the present and comparison of the distant past and the present, Papadopoulos continues to justify the reasons that his regime came into existence and those for which it shall remain. The present ethnocommunity, he argues, is not only in a safer, less dangerous position today because of the Revolution, but through it, it actively creates another glorious page of history.

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Chapter 2.4 – The ‘Ideal’ Future of a Distant Past

Εάν συγκροτήσωµεν τοιαύτην συντεταγµένην πολιτείαν και τοποθετήσωµεν αυτήν ως υπόβαθρον του ιδανικού «Ελλάς», ως κοιτίδος του αθανάτου ελληνικού πνεύµατος, πρέπει να είµεθα βέβαιοι, ότι ως λαός, ως φυλή, ως κράτος, ως έθνος, έχοµεν ευρεί την ορθήν θέσιν ως προς το ιδανικόν µας, το ιδανικόν που δύναται να λέγεται, ως ελέγετο πάντοτε µέχρι σήµερον δια τους Έλληνας, «Ελλάς». [...] ∆εν νοµίζω ότι θα ηδύνατο να εύρη διαφορετικήν διατύπωσιν το ιδανικόν των Ελλήνων σήµερον από την έκφρασιν: «Ελλάς Ελλήνων Χριστιανών». Και αυτό δίδω σήµερον ως σκοπόσηµον δια τον Ελληνικόν Λαόν, ως σκοπόν της Επαναστάσεως της 21ης Απριλίου (1968b: 85).

If we form this constitutional polity and place it as a foundation of the ideal ‘Greece’, as the cradle of the immortal Greek spirit, we must be certain that as a people, as a race, as a state, as a nation we have found the right place as to our ideal, an ideal which can be called, as it has always been called by Greeks to this day, ‘Greece’. […] I do not think that the ideal of the Greeks could be formulated differently today, other than by the expression: ‘Greece of the Greek Christians’. And I offer this today as the target of the Greek People, as the aim of the Revolution of the 21st April.

In the preceding chapters, a discussion took place of how Papadopoulos represents the leadership and the ethnocommunity in the ‘negative’ recent past and the present. This was facilitated through an examination of the repetition of particular terms and concepts in the context of how they are repeated or presented to particular audiences and/or at particular times. Using the same quantitative data and qualitative approach, this chapter will discuss Papadopoulos’s lexical representation of the ‘ideal’ future Greece, one towards which the united ethnocommunity must aspire and one which re-embraces the ideals of past epochs. Simply:

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Έλληνες-Χριστιανοί πρέπει να ξαναγίνωµεν. Προς τον Έλληνα-Χριστιανόν πρέπει να κατατείνωµεν ως άτοµα, εάν θέλωµεν να επανεύρωµεν το έρµα µας, και εξ αυτού εξαρτώµενοι να αναρριχηθώµεν προς τον δρόµον πού επιτάσσει η ιστορία µας (ibid., p. 80).

We must again become Greek-Christians. As individuals, we must aspire towards the Greek-Christian if we want to rediscover our moral ballast and, hanging on to this, to raise ourselves up towards the path that our history ordains.

Thus:

Το ιδανικόν είναι έν: «Ελλάς Ελλήνων Χριστιανών» (ibid., p. 88).

The ideal is one: ‘Greece of the Greek Christians’.

The ‘ideal’ illustrated in all of the quotations above is discussed in the address to students of the University of Thessaloniki at the end of March 1968. In this address, Papadopoulos dissects what he terms the ‘diptych: Greek-Christian’ (ibid., p. 80). This speech is the best example of the attributes that Papadopoulos ascribes to his ideal future. Essentially, it is an ideal that seeks to re-embrace the attributes of a distant history and those of Christianity, and through sacrifice and faith, provide these attributes to future generations. Thus, in the discussion of Papadopoulos’s representation of the ideal future of a distant past, various terms will be grouped into categories that come to represent his notion of distant history, descendants, Christianity and morality, sacrifice and faith. Additionally, the examination of the notion of passing the baton from one to the next will better illustrate Papadopoulos’s placement of

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his regime at this crossroads between the distant past and the ‘glorious’ future. Firstly, Papadopoulos consistently emphasises the importance of the connection that the present Greek ethnocommunity and the ethnocommunities of the world have to the cultural and religious offerings of Classical and , respectively. Greece, he reminds various audiences, has a history that spans 3,000 years (1968a: 34, 36, 49, 153; 1968b: 85; 1972: 86). It is the ‘birthplace’ or ‘cradle’ of philosophy (1968a: 11; 1968b: 80; 2004: 93), the Olympic spirit (1968a: 150; 1970b: 40; 2004: 75), freedom (1968a: 25, 27; 1968b: 142), democracy (1968a: 25, 81, 83, 102; 1972: 144) and political systems (1968b: 20). It possesses a heritage of the highest human ideals (1968a: 90), of the dialectic (ibid., p. 72), of art and aesthetics (1968b: 80). It boasts people such as Democritus (1968a: 122, 153), Hippocrates (1969a: 28), and Aristotle (1968a: 84; 1969b: 58; 1970b: 159) and Aristophanes (1972: 140). The gods of friendship (1968a: 44; 1968b: 82) and health (1969a: 28) were Greek. Greece is ‘the cradle of nations’ (1968a: 85). Importantly, Greece is also the birthplace of the Helleno-Christian spirit (1968a: 17, 32, 36, 107, 110, 111, 112, 122, 154; 1968b: 21, 23, 39, 52, 59, 80, 81, 83, 84, 85, 152, 155, 173, 176; 1969a: 25, 26, 146, 148; 1969b: 36, 38, 41, 42, 44, 58, 88, 105, 160, 188, 216; 1972: 40, 63, 84, 86, 108, 174; 2004: 38, 62, 92, 93, 247, 249). Thus, to encapsulate, as he does in the aforementioned address to students:

Είµεθα κατά κληρονοµίαν και παράδοσιν ο περιούσιος λαός, ο οποίος εφώτισε την ανθρωπότητα µε τα θαύµατα του τελειοτέρου πολιτισµού (1968b: 80).

Through our heritage and tradition, we are the chosen people who enlightened humanity with the miracles of the most perfect civilisation.

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Ηµείς έχοµεν την κληρονοµίαν, ηµείς έχοµεν την ιστορίαν, ηµείς έχοµεν την παράδοσιν (ibid., p. 83).

We have the inheritance, we have the history, we have the tradition.

In order to better ascertain the number of times, when and to whom, Papadopoulos evokes the concept of this distant history several terms have been considered under its banner: ιστορία (history), ιστορικός (historical), πρόγονος (ancestor), κληρονοµία (inheritance), πατήρ (father), προπάτωρ (forefather), πατραγαθία (the virtue of the ancestors), γεννήτωρ (father) and παράδοσις (tradition). The examination of these terms within the concept of distant history makes his choices according to chronology, speech content and audience composition more transparent. The importance of this distant history appears to be slightly more prominent in speeches delivered during the first phase: an overall average of 1.1 times per page during the first phase and an overall average of 0.7 times per page during the second and third phases. It does appear, therefore, that Papadopoulos focused on the present ethnocommunity’s link to this distant history more in the first few years of his rule than in later years. The justification for this could be similar to that for his preoccupation with communism; that is, Papadopoulos was more pressed to ‘prove’ the regime’s alleged value to the present ethnocommunity in the first year of his rule by showing that its main purpose was to either ‘combat communism’ and/or provide the present again with the attributes of their forefathers. The concept of distant history appears in almost all speeches to all sectors. It occurs with above-average frequency in a discussion about the reorganisation of the public sector (1969a: 120-1), in an address to the Church (1969b: 38-9), in a speech on professional programming (ibid., pp. 41-6), to women in a correctional facility (1970a: 47-8), in a later address

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to Greek scientists abroad (2004: 92-5), in addresses to the industrialists and their governmental representatives (1969b: 159-62; 1970a: 102-8, respectively), and in addresses to the citizens of and (1968a: 107-8; 1969b: 215-7, respectively). It is also repeated with above- average frequency in two earlier addresses to lawyers (1968b: 19-23; 1969b: 143-50) and in three addresses to the merchant marine and shipowners (1968b: 51-4; 1969b: 152-7; 1970a: 28-30)—the latter whose occupation he links to this distant history. In two later addresses to foreign ministers of Spain and USA, the distant history also appears with above- average frequency (1972: 112; To Vima 6 July 1972, p. 1, 2). What is being analysed here, however, is the above-average frequency of the concept with relative consistency among particular groups and/or particular groups over time. So while in the aforementioned instances no clear, distinct pattern can be deduced, there are certainly tendencies to refer to the concept of distant history with some audiences more than with others. Firstly, the concept of distant history is repeated consistently with high averages in speeches to groups who Papadopoulos deemed to be the supreme ‘protectors’ of this heritage: the Armed Forces (1968b: 70; 1969b: 61-71, 73; 1972: 18, 148) and veterans and invalids of war (1968a: 36-9, 89-90). Not surprisingly, the same high frequencies are found in addresses to various audiences celebrating ‘glorious’ struggles in Greece’s history, and predominantly in the ones delivered to these ‘protectors’. On the anniversary of National Independence Day, it appears an overall 6 times in a 1-page speech in 1968 (1968b: 70); an average of 3.2 times per page in 1970 (1970b: 87, 89); an average of 5.3 times per page in 1971 (1972: 67, 69, 71-2); an average of 2.4 times per page in 1972—which also coincided with Papadopoulos’s announcement of his assumption of the regency

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(2004: 42, 45)—and 4 times in a 0.66-page speech in 1973 (2004: 197).1 On the anniversary of Ochi Day, it appears an average of 3.7 times per page in 1968 (1969a: 102, 103, 105, 107); an overall average of 2 times per page in 1969 (1970b: 42, 44-5, 47); 8 times in a 1-page speech in 1970 (1972: 18); 4 times in a 0.8-page speech in 1971 (1972: 148); and 7 times in a 1.25-page speech in 1972 (2004: 120-1).2 Similarly, in speeches celebrating the military prowess of Greeks in the aforementioned past struggles, the distant history is referenced also with particularly high averages: nine averages of 2.5, 4.5, 6, 6, 2, 1.6, 10, 2.6, 2.66 times per page, respectively (1968b: 176-8; 1969a: 57; 1970a: 174, 195-6, 207-8; 1970b: 133, 164-5; 1972: 114-5; 2004: 97-8). This pattern reflects Papadopoulos’s tendency to parallel past struggles with the present-day ‘struggle’ of the regime—a notion that was discussed extensively in the previous chapter—especially with these audiences. These findings, therefore, indicate that Papadopoulos does indeed place a special emphasis on the military prowess of Greeks in the past and flags this as something which is relevant to the present ethnocommunity and, particularly, to those who are ‘direct descendants’, if you will, of such glories: the Armed Forces and veterans of war. As has already been established, Papadopoulos presents his Revolution as another ‘station’ in Greece’s glorious history. Thus, in speeches celebrating the anniversary of his regime, references to distant history also appear in high frequencies: in 1968, averages of 1.66 and 3 times per page (1968b: 112-14, 136); in 1969, a maintained average of 1.6 times per page (1970a: 28-30, 32, 34-6, 37); in 1970, an average of 1 time per page (1970b: 112-4); in 1971, an average of 2 times per page (1972:

1 No official speech was given in 1969 commemorating this date. 2 In the same vein, it also appears an average of 1.9 times per page in an early speech to professionals concerning the ‘benefits’ of the Truman Doctrine in post-war Greece (1968a: 27-34).

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74, 76-8); in 1972, an average of 2.4 times per page (2004: 65-6); and in 1973, an average of 1.8 times per page (2004: 199-200). In fact, Papadopoulos is very consistent in referring to this distant history in any speeches which aimed at highlighting the alleged benefits of his regime. For example, in New Year’s addresses, addresses which aimed at emphasising the achievements of the regime and its plans for the future, the importance of this historical link is consistently repeated: an average of 2 times per page in 1967/8 (1968a: 104-5); an average of 2.3 times per page in 1968/9 (1969a: 166-7); averages of 1.66 and 2.6 times per page in 1969/70 (1970b: 77, 79-81); an overall average of 7 times in 2.5-pages worth of New Year’s addresses for 1970/1 (1972: 47, 49-50); an average of 3.2 times per page in 1971/2 (1972: 182; 2004: 16-17); and 2.3 times per page in 1972/3 (2004: 165-6). Thus, at these times especially, the distant history was recalled and stressed as a period whose attributes must be re- integrated in the future. In other addresses concerning his regime and its key decisions, the repetition of distant history is frequent: when discussing the aims of his regime to the citizens of Thessaloniki, at an average of 1.1 times per page (1969b: 84-93); when justifying the decision to withdraw from the Council of Europe, at an average of 0.8 times per page (1970b: 64-75). Even in a short speech concerning the awarding of the medal of the City of Athens to Papadopoulos, this distant history appears twice (1968b: 129). In the pre- and post-Referendum national addresses of 1968, the words history and historical (ιστορία, ιστορικός) are repeated an average of 2.7 and 2.4 times per page, respectively (1969a: 79-82, 84-5). This is not a surprising tendency, when we consider that, according to Papadopoulos, with the new Constitution:

θα φθάσωµεν—και πρέπει να φθάσωµεν το συντοµώτερον δυνατόν—εις τον χρόνον που η Ελλάς [...] θα αποτελή όντως µίαν νέαν και σύγχρονον

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∆ηµοκρατίαν, η οποία θα είναι αξία του ανθρωπίνου πολιτισµού (ibid., p. 70).

we will reach—and we must reach, as soon as possible—a time when Greece […] will really constitute a new and modern Democracy, which will be worthy of human civilisation.

In fact, in an earlier press address, he is quite explicit about the regime’s motivations in drafting the new Constitution:

[Η] επιδίωξίς µας είναι να κατορθώσωµεν να ικανοποιήσωµεν εις τον τάφον των τον Πλάτωνα και τον Αριστοτέλην, οι οποίοι έδωσαν τας πρώτας κατευθύνσεις, τα πρώτα φώτα, τας πρώτας ιδέας περί των Συνταγµάτων, τα οποία υφίστανται σήµερον ανά τον κόσµον (1968a: 84).

Our aim is to succeed in satisfying Plato and Aristotle in their graves, who gave the first directions, the first enlightenment, the first ideas about the Constitutions, which today exist throughout the world.

Likewise, in two pre-1973 Referendum addresses, the distant history is invoked an average of 2.2 and 1.2 times per page, respectively (2004: 211-4, 228-35). In the post-Referendum address and in his inaugural Presidential address, it appears an average of 2.7 and 1 times per page, respectively (ibid., pp. 238-9, 242-4). Again, he emphasises that a vote for this Constitution opens up a new chapter of history, one that is worthy of its ancestry (ibid., pp. 228, 238, 239, 242); but, he adds, in the concluding paragraphs, one that is also true to its descendants:

Η θετική ψήφος σας θ’ ανοίξη νέον κεφάλαιον της Ελληνικής Ιστορίας, δια το οποίον σεις µεν θα αισθάνεσθε υπερηφάνειαν και ικανοποίησιν, οι δε απόγονοί σας, ευγνωµοσύνην (ibid., p. 235).

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Your positive vote will open up a new chapter of Greek History, for which you, on the one hand, will feel proud and satisfied, and your descendants, on the other hand, will feel grateful.

As has already been illustrated in the previous chapter, Papadopoulos’s use of history is two-fold: it stresses both the ‘negative’ recent past and the ‘glories’ of a distant past. This establishes a clear timeline upon which Papadopoulos can then position his Revolution, contrasting it with the former and comparing it to the latter. Thus, the present under his regime becomes marked as a new period of history, one that will sever the ties with the ‘negative’ recent past and re-embrace the ‘glories’ of a distant past for a prosperous future. It becomes essential, therefore, for the ethnocommunity to achieve:

δια της Επαναστάσεως αυτό που αποτελεί επιταγήν του παρελθόντος και επιταγήν του µέλλοντος της Ελλάδος, επιταγήν της ιστορίας µας (1969a: 50). (Emphasis added.)

through the Revolution that which constitutes a command of the past and a command of the future of Greece; a command of our history.

Thus, the present ethnocommunity is not only ‘obliged’ to obey this ‘historical command’, this ‘historical necessity’ (1968a: 13, 31, 58, 79, 107, 117, 138, 143, 149, 152; 1968b: 20, 114; 1969a: 144, 146, 156; 1969b: 61, 70, 99, 166; 1970a: 37; 1970b: 68, 96; 2004: 36, 97), but, equally, it is ‘obliged’ to pass on the attributes of this history to its descendants (1968a: 138, 1968b: 25, 31; 1969b: 63, 73, 77, 148, 150; 1970b: 73; 1972: 119):

Είναι υποχρέωσις προς ηµάς αυτούς, είναι υποχρέωσις προς την ιστορικήν µας παράδοσιν, είναι υποχρέωσις προς το µέλλον, το µέλλον ηµών, το µέλλον των παιδιών µας, το µέλλον του Έθνους µας (1968b: 21).

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It is an obligation towards ourselves; it is an obligation towards our historical tradition; it is an obligation towards the future, our future, our children’s future, our Nation’s future.

Papadopoulos’s repetition of ‘glory of our ancestors’ (1968a: 112, 122, 143, 148) is not simply what the Greeks would call ‘ancestor-worship’ (προγονολατρεία); instead, the continuous repetition of such representations aims at emphasising the importance of maintaining this heritage and building upon it; using it as the foundation of a new ‘glory’ (1968a: 122), a ‘future history’ (ibid., p. 139). According to Papadopoulos, all citizens must again become ‘philosophers’ (ibid., pp. 55, 154); generalising, he says all nations must become:

αντάξιοι απόγονοι των προγόνων των και ως άξιοι πατέρες των επιγόνων των (ibid., p. 148).

worthy descendants of their forefathers and worthy fathers of their descendants.

Moreover, to become worthy of both history and of future generations is the ‘greatest’ thing individual citizens can offer their ethnocommunity (ibid., p. 153).3 In fact, the cyclicality of his argument—that is, the balance required in the present to be worthy to distant history and thus, be true to the future—is explained most concisely in an early address to shipowners:

[Η Ελλάς] πρέπει να ζήση, δια να υπάρξη ως η κοιτίς εκ της οποίας εξεκινήσατε, και η οποία να σας δίδη το δικαίωµα τουλάχιστον να

3 Rindler Schjerve’s (1989) textual analysis of the highly emotive discourse of Futurism as it is influenced by and influences fascism is most relevant here. In her study, she uncovers many of the same concepts that continue to arise in Papadopoulos’s political speeches: distant past ‘glories’, mythmaking of past struggles, the repeated references to ‘heroism’, the superiority of ‘race’ and the importance of ‘restoration’ and ‘rebirth’.

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υπερηφανεύεσθε και δια την ιδικήν σας δράσιν και δια την εθνικότητά σας και δια τα αγαθά έργα το οποία έπραξαν οι πατέρες ηµών. [...] Είναι αρχή της ζωής, είναι βιολογική ανάγκη, ο άνθρωπος να επανέρχεται εις την εστίαν από την οποίαν εξεκίνησε, εις το παραγώνι που εθέρµανε τον πατέρα ή τον παππού του. Εδώ θα ξαναγυρίσετε εις το τέλος της ζωής σας. Αποβλέψατε προς τα εδώ, αποβλέψατε εις το να υπάρχη αυτός ο τόπος (1968b: 53).

[Greece] must live so that it may exist as the cradle from which you set out and the one which will give you the right, at least, to be proud of your own activity and of your nationality and of the good work which our fathers performed. […] It is a principle of life; it is a biological need for man to return to the hearth from which he began, to the fireside which warmed his father and grandfather. It is here you will return at the end of your life. Make this land your goal; make your goal the existence of this land.

In the examination of the concept of descendants, Papadopoulos’s references to future members of the ethnocommunity are considered. Thus, the following terms are taken into account: επίγονος, επιγενόµενος, απόγονος (descendant), τέκνον (offspring, child), επερχόµενος (following), διάδοχος (heir, successor), µέλλον (future) and αύριον (tomorrow—as a synonym of the future and not as the term indicating the day after today). An analysis of these terms under as representative of the concept descendants yields some interesting results according to audience composition, speech content and chronology. Firstly, while representations of distant history dominate during the first phase, those of descendants dominate during the last phase—cf. an overall average of 0.6 times per page during the first and second phases and an overall average of 1.1 times per page during the third phase. So, while Papadopoulos stresses the importance of the historical link in the initial year of his rule, in the

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last years of his rule, appropriately, the exact opposite is emphasised: the future, the descendants, the offspring of the ethnocommunity, the inheritors. The concept of descendants is not repeated as frequently as distant past, yet, it still sometimes manages to poll above-average frequencies in addresses to almost all audiences. For example, descendants is repeated with above-average frequency in addresses to lawyers (1968b: 19-23; 1969b: 143-50), the financial sector (1968b: 25-7), scientists (ibid., pp. 72- 7, 102-8; 2004: 92-5), a lay-clerical conference in July 1968 (1968b: 173- 7), the health sector (1969b: 26-8), industrialists (ibid., pp. 159-62), an interview with a Turkish journalist (1972: 92-5), the press, regarding his trip to Crete (2004: 159-60), and citizens of Larissa, Patras, Kastoria and Ioannina, respectively (1968b: 107-8, 144-9; 1969b: 215-7, 191-2)—the latter with a particularly high average of 3.8 times per page. In later addresses to shipowners (1970b: 126-9; 2004: 38-40) and the merchant marine (2004: 205, 205-6), descendants is emphasised as much as the distant history was. Again, this reflects Papadopoulos’s emphasis on this group’s associations with a long and established sea-faring history and one which shall continue in the future. Similarly, while distant history only appears with above-average frequency in the 37th DET address in 1972 (ibid., pp. 107-14), the above- average repetition of descendants is consistently favoured in DET addresses (1969a: 48-52; 1970b: 12-15, 17-22, 162; 2004: 103-6, 107-14). Perhaps this was to emphasise, through this ‘international’ conference, that the present ethnocommunity’s contribution to the future is most relevant. Further to this, there appears to be a tendency to expressly stress the concept of descendants to particular audiences at particular times. Sometimes this tendency parallels Papadopoulos’s above-average references to distant history. For example, descendants is repeated

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consistently in anniversary speeches celebrating the regime (1968b: 112-4; 1970a: 34-6, 42-5, 47-8; 1972: 76-8; 2004: 65-6, 199-200) and in New Year’s addresses, which, as was previously stated, aimed at highlighting the regime’s ‘achievements’ and future plans (1968a: 104-5; 1969a: 166-7, 167; 1970b: 79-81; 1972: 47, 49-50, 169-80; 2004: 136-49, 165-6). The above-average frequency of descendants in a speech he delivers to citizens of Thessaloniki entitled ‘The Aims of the Revolution’ (1969b: 84-93) should also be seen in this light. In the pre- and post-1968 Referendum addresses to the nation, it is repeated an average of 1.8 and 1.2 times per page, respectively (1969a: 79-82, 84-5). Curiously, while descendants maintains its highest average during the third phase, it appears with above-average frequency only in his inaugural Presidential address after the 1973 Referendum (2004: 242-4) and not in the pre-Referendum address (ibid., pp. 228-35)—a time where one would assume stressing the importance of future generations would be most prominent. It appears with above-average frequency in some speeches celebrating the military prowess of Greeks (1968b: 176-8; 1970b: 164-5); however, descendants is not repeated as consistently as distant history. Similarly, an above-average repetition of descendants is noted only in a few addresses that commemorated either National Independence Day (25 March) or Ochi Day (28 October). Contrary to the repetition of the concept distant history on such days, these examples do not reflect a choice made according to the celebratory occasion; rather, they indicate a choice made according to chronology or audience composition. For example, firstly, in the 1969 addresses celebrating 28 October, descendants is repeated consistently and frequently both to Greeks overseas and to veterans of war, respectively (ibid., pp. 42, 44-5); however, it does not appear with a similar consistency in subsequent addresses celebrating the same date or in other addresses to these audiences. This result, therefore, should be viewed in chronological context. These

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celebratory speeches were delivered a few months prior to the regime’s decision to withdraw from the Council of Europe. This conclusion is further supported by the above-average repetition of descendants in the national address which subsequently concerned this decision (ibid., pp. 64-75) and the New Year’s address which immediately followed it, with an exceptionally high average of 5 times per page (ibid., pp. 79-81). One could conclude, therefore, that in these instances, Papadopoulos aimed at emphasising the ‘positive’ policy decisions of his regime, by focusing on the alleged ‘benefits’ of such decisions to future generations; that is, he wished to point out that the choice to withdraw from the Council was one made for the future ‘good’ of the ethnocommunity. The above-average frequency of descendants in various addresses to the rural sector (1968b: 35-41, 90-6, 98-100, 151-2; 1970a: 55-61; 1970b: 120-4) could perhaps also be viewed according to this chronological context. This is especially true of the speeches surrounding the announcement of the abolition of agricultural debts in this sector (1968b: 90-6, 98-100). Furthermore, while not consistent in his repetition of descendants with this sector, Papadopoulos does tend to emphasise farmers’ contribution to the present ethnocommunity as crucial in paving the road for future generations. This will become evident particularly with his use of medical and biological analogies in Part Three. Secondly, in speeches celebrating National Independence Day, the only above-average occurrence of descendants is noted in one address to the youth, at an average of 3.33 times per page (1972: 71-2). In fact, of all the anniversary speeches celebrating 21 April, the concept descendants sustains the highest average of 1.8 times per page in an address also to the youth (1970a: 42-5). This, combined with the conclusive findings in addresses to the educational sector and students, points to a clear tendency according to audience composition.

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References to both distant history and descendants frequently and consistently permeate addresses to students and the educational sector. Distant history is repeated with eight averages of 2.5, 2.1, 4.6, 1.7, 1, 1.3, 5.3, 2.4 (1968a: 148-58; 1968b: 64-8, 79-88; 1969b: 25-6; 10-15, 52-3, 123-5; 1972: 105-8, respectively)—the highest of which are in addresses to audiences in the tertiary sector. Even in an address to his Ministry of Education, the concept is repeated an average of 1.6 times per page (1970a: 149-52). During the third phase, however, distant history appears only in average frequencies in addresses to this sector (2004: 32-6, 187- 94). This appears anomalous as this was conceivably a time where he would choose to stress the importance of and obligation to a present link with distant history with this group. Students were becoming increasingly more vocal and more collective in their opposition of the regime. This apparent inconsistency, however, is quickly contextualised when the repetition of descendants is examined with this group. Descendants is also repeated frequently and consistently with 11 averages of 1, 3.6, 1.4, 1.3, 1.2, 5.1, 4, 3.33, 1.2, 1.3 and 2.9 (1968a: 110- 2, 148-58; 1968b: 56-62, 64-8, 79-88; 1969a: 25-6; 1970a: 10-15, 123-5; 1972: 105-8; 2004: 32-6, 187-94, respectively)—the highest instances of which, again, occur in addresses to the tertiary sector. Similarly, it appears with above-average frequency in the aforementioned address to the Ministry of Education (1970a: 149-52). While both the distant history and descendants are consistently reiterated to the educational sector and youth—two of the more problematic sectors for the regime—it is only to the latter that it is predominantly emphasised during the third phase. Thus, when these groups were becoming more problematic for the regime, the emphasis in their addresses was on the present ethnocommunity’s ‘obligation’ to future generations and, in turn, their ‘obligation’ to uphold certain values passed on to them.

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There is another important reason as to why both the distant history and descendants were consistently and frequently stressed with this group. Papadopoulos continually emphasised the importance of rescuing this sector from the ‘πραγµατικόν χάος’ (true chaos) (1968b: 113) that they inherited, through distant past ideals for a prosperous future—a notion that was directly reflected in policy: his decision on the written purist form of the Greek language, katharevousa. Katharevousa is a neo-Classical form of the Modern Greek language, which, traditionally, is associated with the political Right. Symbolically, it was codified on the eve of Greece’s independence from Ottoman Occupation and thus can be viewed as a literal and symbolic attempt to cleanse present Greece of all foreign influence and cement it, once again, in ‘glorious’ distant history. This, as Mackridge (1990: 40) points out, led to:

the development of katharevousa as a dressing-up of western European concepts in ethnic garb, and the disguising of a new language behind an ancient mask.4

From Greek Independence in 1828, katharevousa remained the language of legislation, government and education. Under ’s EK in the early 1960s, however, there were attempts to legislate against its anachronistic use in education in favour of Modern Greek. Once the dictatorship usurped power in 1967, and with the new Constitution the following year, these changes were undone and katharevousa again became established by law as the official language of schools.5 Additionally, it was the preferred language for officially

4 Mackridge (1990) gives a concise account of the development of katharevousa in the modern Greek state and the implications of its use. 5 For other policy changes to education during the dictatorship, see Chapter 1.2, p. 62, 65-6.

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sanctioned translations of the classics published from after the onset of the dictatorship—as Papadopoulos puts it:

προκειµένου να παράσχωµεν την ευχέρειαν εις τον Ελληνικόν Λαόν στενωτέρας επαφής µε το αρχαίον ελληνικόν πνεύµα (1972: 40).

in order to give the Greek people the opportunity of closer ties with the ancient Greek spirit.

Thus, it becomes obvious that the re-introduction of katharevousa reflects Papadopoulos’s reiterated importance of Hellenic regeneration. A similar pattern of the consistent repetition of both distant history and descendants exists with addresses to ministers and other representatives of his government. There are numerous addresses to this group that poll an above-average frequency of both the distant history (1969b: 75-82; 1970a: 102-8, 137-43, 149-52, 168-72; 2004: 208-10, 217- 23) and descendants (1968a: 66-7; 1969b: 75-82; 1970a: 80-8, 92-100, 116-21, 137-43, 149-52, 154-61, 168-72, 2004: 211-4). This tendency among this group would further support Papadopoulos’s view of the regime at a crossroads of history, linking the past with the future. As the repeated instances of descendants are slightly more pronounced, this could indicate that Papadopoulos places a slightly greater emphasis on the regime and its representatives successfully upholding distant past attributes for future generations, rather than, as with the Armed Forces and veterans of war, simply focusing on the present ethnocommunity’s connection to the ‘glories’ of the distant past. Thus, in a later address to the nation, Papadopoulos emphasises that he and his regime are unique in their understanding of this historical ‘obligation’ to future generations and presents himself as:

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[ο] φορεύς της εντολής του Ελληνικού Λαού, φορεύς των ιστορικών ευθυνών [τας οποίας] έχω αναλάβει έναντι του Έθνους και των Ενόπλων ∆υνάµεών του (1972: 35).

[the] bearer of the command of the Greek People, the bearer of the historical responsibilities [which] I have undertaken towards the Nation and its Armed Forces.

Indeed, in a later interview with the British Sunday Times, he states that his political beliefs have been moulded by the theories of Plato and Polybius, the history of humanity and his own personal experiences (1970b: 159). Papadopoulos, therefore, establishes the present ethnocommunity at a crossroads between that of a distant past and a prosperous future, and his regime as the ideal body to pass the baton of the legacy of a distant past to its descendants. Thus, the present ethnocommunity, under the Revolution, acts as baton-bearers in charge of passing on the ideals of this distant history to the generations of the future.

Εγεννήθηµεν, δια να µεταφέρωµεν την δάδα, την οποίαν παρελάβοµεν από τους προγόνους µας, την δάδα του πνεύµατος, προς τα εµπρός, προς τους επιγόνους (1968a: 110).

We were born to transfer the torch, which we received from our forefathers, the torch of the spirit, forward, towards [our] descendants.

While this image of handing over the baton is transmitted to various groups at various times (ibid., pp. 34, 82; 1969a: 26; 1969b: 58), usually in the closing paragraphs of each speech, Papadopoulos awards certain groups with specific roles in this process. For example, scientists (1968a: 122; 1969b: 44) and educationalists (1968a: 110, 153; 1968b: 57; 1969b:

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88) are told that in this ‘relay race’ for the future, they ‘hold the baton’ and ‘prepare’ future generations for its transfer. Remaining consistent with his previously examined tendencies to invoke the distant past and the descendants among students and the youth, in the image of passing the baton, these groups are always the ones who will receive it (1968a: 110, 148; 1968b: 57; 1969b: 215; 2004: 16). In fact, it is an obligation of theirs ‘to maintain first place in the relay race of nations’ (1968a: 153).

Αύριον [οι νέοι] θα παραλάβουν την σκυτάλην. Είναι οι αναγκαίοι διάδοχοί µας. Και πρέπει να είναι προαπαρεσκευασµένοι δια την υπεύθυνον αποστολήν, η οποία τους αναµένει. Καθαρά καρδία και καθαρός νους χρειάζεται (1970b: 80).

Tomorrow [the youth] will take the baton. They are our necessary inheritors. And they must be prepared for the responsible mission, which awaits them. A clean heart and a clean mind is necessary.

The importance of the younger generations undertaking the responsibility for the ethnocommunity’s prosperity in the future is emphasised in short, sharp sentences in an early address to the education sector:

Αν τους χάσωµεν [τους νέους], εχάσαµεν την Ελλάδα, διότι αυτοί είναι η αύριον. Ηµείς είµεθα η σήµερον και θα απέλθωµεν. Αυτοί θα µείνουν. Εις αυτούς θα παραδώσωµεν την σκυτάλην (1968b: 57).

If we lose [the nation’s young people], we have lost Greece, because they are our tomorrow. We are today and we will leave. They will remain. We will pass on the baton to them.

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In later addresses, students are told that they will take up the ‘baton of responsibility’ (1972: 26, 71, 136), that they are also obliged to be ‘worthy of this privilege’ (2004: 16) and, appropriately, in one of his final addresses to them, six months before their escalating student protests would culminate in the Polytechnic disaster, he asserts:

Θα πάρετε την σκυτάλην, είτε το θέλοµεν, είτε δεν το θέλοµεν (ibid., p. 191).

You will take the baton, whether we want it or not.

Again remaining consistent with his emphasis on the concept of distant history in speeches to the Armed Forces and war veterans, the passing the baton image is used to emphasise the ‘relay race’s foundation (1968b: 70, 178). His remarks in the closing paragraphs of a speech to the Security Forces, therefore, should be understood in this context:

Οφείλοµεν την σκυτάλην του Έθνους που ανελάβοµεν, έστω και αν προς στιγµήν εσκοντάψαµεν και επέσαµεν, εγειρόµενοι, τινάζοντες τον κονιορτόν και συνεχίζοντες τον δρόµον, να την παραδώσωµεν εις τους επιγόνους, εις τους οποίους έχοµεν ιεράν υποχρέωσιν και δια τους οποίους οφείλοµεν να αναλώσωµεν και την τελευταίαν ικµάδα των δυνάµεών µας (1968a: 143).

The baton of the Nation that we have received, even if, for a moment, we have tripped and fallen, we have a duty to get up, shake off the dust and, continuing on the road, we are obliged to hand it over to our descendants to whom we have a sacred obligation, and for whom we are obliged to expend even the last bit of our strength.

Similarly, at the beginning of a speech to the citizens of Mesolonghi, an area steeped in history, Papadopoulos assures his audience that ‘the

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relay race will continue’ in gratitude for the sacrifices of ‘the heroes of the Free Besieged’; that is, the War of Independence (2004: 61).6 The second component of the ideal ‘diptych: Greek-Christian’ is:

[ο] Χριστιανός κατά το Ευαγγέλιον, Χριστιανός κατά την παράδοσιν, Ορθόδοξος Χριστιανός (1968b: 82).

[a] Christian according to the Gospel, a Christian according to tradition, an Orthodox Christian.

An analysis of the concept Christian and its cognates alone is not conclusive as to Papadopoulos’s predisposition to repeat it to a particular audience or at a particular time.7 When these data are combined with those of the concept morality, however, clearer patterns emerge. The concept of morality considers Papadopoulos’s use of the following terms: ήθη (morals), ηθικός (moral), ηθικότης (morality) and their antonyms, ανήθικος (immoral), ανηθικότης (immorality). It may appear curious to combine an analysis of a particular term with its antonym; however, Papadopoulos’s use of both reflects the same argument: the importance of morality in the future ethnocommunity and the inherent absence of it in the recent past ethnocommunity. The overall average repetition of both Christian and morality is comparatively small, but there is a definite dominance of them during the first phase of the dictatorship. This leads to the conclusion that, like distant history, Papadopoulos used such concepts as a means of justifying

6 See p. 107 fn.4. 7 The following cognates are considered in an examination of the concept Christian: χριστιανός (Christian, noun), χριστιανισµός (Christianity), χριστεπώνυµος (Christian, adj.), χριστιανικός (Christian, adj.).

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the initial year of his rule, rather than as a means of justifying his sustained rule.8 Like distant history and descendants, Christian and morality appear in various speeches across almost all sectors. These concepts appear in speeches to the public sector (1968a: 116-20; 1968b: 43-9) and those discussing its reorganisation (1969a: 120-1), to representatives of health (1969b: 26-8), to industrialists (ibid., pp. 134-41), to representatives of his government (1968a: 145-6; 1970a: 116-21, 165-6, 176-80; 1970b: 51-5; 1972: 52-60, 132-4; 2004: 72-80), and in later addresses to scientists (2004: 85-9, 92-5), the merchant marine (2004: 205-6) and the ministry in charge of the latter (1970a: 72-8). Of all the 21 April celebratory addresses, Christian appears with above-average frequency in only three (1968b: 112-4; 1970a: 42-5; 1972: 76-8); morality appears in only one (1970b: 112-4). In end-of-year addresses, morality is repeated once at the end of the 1969/70 address (ibid., pp. 79-81), once in each of the 1970/1 addresses (1972: 45, 47, 49- 50), and twice in the 1972 address (2004: 19-30), where, significantly, he speaks of ‘ηθικός εξοπλισµός’ (moral armament) (ibid., pp. 23, 24). In the 1968 pre-Referendum address, Papadopoulos stresses the moral foundations of the ethnocommunity under the regime more than he does in the 1973 pre-referendum address—cf. the average of 1.2 times per page in the former (1969a: 79-82) with just once in the entire speech of the latter (2004: 228-35). Morality appears once in an address to the nation concerning the past, present and future ‘achievements’ of the regime and which also announced the lifting of Martial Law (1972: 169-80), as well as in an address regarding the selection of his Advisory Committee (1972: 26-7).

8 Cf. the overall averages of 0.1, 0.05 and 0.06 of Christian with the overall averages of 0.3, 0.1, and 0.2 of morality during the first, second and third phases, respectively.

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There do, however, appear to be tendencies to remain consistent in their repetition with particular groups or according to speech content. Understandably, both Christian and morality are stressed in addresses to representatives of the Church (ibid., pp. 140, 173-4; 1969b: 38-9; 2004: 133-4). In the opening paragraphs of one of these earlier addresses, a speech to the Holy Synod, he explicitly notes the consistently fundamental role of the Church throughout Greece’s history as a nation:

Η βακτηρία του [Έθνους] εις τας δυσκόλους στιγµάς υπήρξεν αναµφισβητήτως η Εκκλησία (1969b: 38).

The walking stick [of the nation] in the difficult times was unquestionably the Church.

There also appears to be a tendency to emphasise Christian and moral values to representatives and audiences from overseas. These concepts are repeated in an interview with the president of the Christian Crusade (1968a: 125-6), in speeches to the visiting foreign ministers of Spain and the USA (1972: 112; To Vima 6 July 1972, p. 1 & 2, respectively) as well as the visiting US vice president (1972: 138), and in various DET addresses (1969a: 48-52; 1970b: 12-15, 17-22; 1972: 122-30; 2004: 103-6, 107-14). Additionally, morality finds prominence in some speeches to Greeks living overseas (1968a: 52-3; 1968b: 173-4; 1969a: 160; 1970a: 37; 1970b: 42); particularly, at a conference given at in Athens in mid- 1968, where the term is repeated at an average of 5.1 times per page (1969a: 25-6). Papadopoulos’s tendency to stress the inherent Christianity of the present ethnocommunity to predominantly international audiences, therefore, should be interpreted in the same way an above-average repetition of democracy to these audiences was: an assurance of the alleged positive foundations provided by his regime in the present, for a

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prosperous future. The lexical resurrection of Classical Greece and Orthodox Christianity makes the nation’s presentation to the West more acceptable, and the regime’s leadership more satisfactory. This very motivation to emphasise the alleged positive decision-making role of the regime could also explain the presence of both Christian and morality in the national address regarding the decision to withdraw from the Council of Europe (1970b: 64-75), and the above-average repetition of both in addresses to the press (1968a: 17-23, 78-87; 1969a: 151-8; 1969b: 10-13, 123-32; 1970a: 193; 1970b: 79-81, 93-104; 2004: 161-2).9 Re-establishing a Christian and moral foundation also dominates speeches to the youth and education sector (1968a: 110-2; 1968b: 56-62, 79-88; 1969a: 25-6; 1969b: 113-21; 1970a: 42-5, 123-5, 149-52; 1970b: 37-8; 1972: 71-2, 105-8). The highest combined averages appear in two addresses: the first, to the tertiary sector in the speech where he defines the ‘diptych: Greek-Christian’, at an average of 2.3 times per page (1968b: 79-88); the second, in an address to the youth on the regime’s second anniversary, at a combined average of 3.5 times per page (1970a: 42-5). Both Christian and morality are repeated in speeches delivered in rural areas (1968a: 72-6; 1968b: 35-41, 98-100, 118-9; 1969a: 37-40; 1970b: 120-4; 1972: 22, 86; 2004: 60-2); that is, to audiences that were deemed more ‘traditional’. This tendency reflects Papadopoulos’s personal and political view of the Greek village as the present-day embodiment of Hellenic and Christian values; the ‘moral fabric’ of the present ethnocommunity and that of the future:

Το Ελληνικό χωριό πρέπει να γίνη πάλιν το στολίδι εις την ζωήν και εις την ιστορίαν της Ελλάδος (1968b: 189).

9 In one of these press addresses (1969a: 154), he uses the inclusive ‘we’ to emphasise his regime’s and the press’s collective efforts in being able to ‘render moral’ (ηθικοποιήσωµεν) the ethnocommunity.

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Τhe Greek village must once again become the ornament in the life and history of Greece.

∆εν ηµπορεί να ζήση η Ελληνική κοινωνία, εάν δεν ζήση το ελληνικό χωριό (ibid., p. 190).

Greek society cannot live, unless the Greek village lives.

This tendency in rhetoric is again reflected in policy. The rural sector was provided with favourable policies and financial incentives, which included increased pensions (Legg 1969: 241), favourable loan conditions and cleared bank debt. As will become evident also in the subsequent analogy component, the rural sector was one of two groups who were consistently flagged as providing the supreme example to the ethnocommunity of Helleno-Christian values. The second group was comprised of the ‘protectors’ of this heritage: the Armed Forces, war veterans the Security Forces. Papadopoulos, being a military man himself, also defined this group as the ‘moral’ fabric of society—past, present and future—and stressed to it the importance of imbuing the present ethnocommunity with this value. Thus, it is appropriate that morality also be repeated quite frequently in addresses to the Armed Forces (1969a: 102, 104, 167; 1969b: 61-71; 1970a: 32; 1970b: 47; 1972: 18, 148; 2004: 120-1, 197), war veterans (1968a: 36-9) and the Security Forces (ibid., pp. 131-7, 138-43).10 Additionally it appears in a dinner address in 1973 to Greek and NATO officers (2004: 225-6) and in some addresses which aimed at celebrating the Greeks’ military prowess (1970a: 207-8; 2004: 97-8). In one of these early addresses to the Security Forces, Papadopoulos impresses this role on them most acutely:

10 The concept Christian is also mentioned in the aforementioned address to war veterans.

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[Πρέπει] να εµφανισθώµεν συνεπείς προς τας παραδόσεις και τας υποχρεώσεις µας, παραδόσεις από το παρελθόν, υποχρεώσεις προς το µέλλον (1968a: 138).

[We must] show ourselves faithful to our traditions and our obligations, traditions from the past, obligations to the future.

In order for the present ethnocommunity to be able to remain true to the ‘traditions’ of the past and to the ‘obligations’ to the future, two other factors are required: sacrifice and faith. Both concepts are linked to those of a distant history and of a Christian foundation; therefore, quantitative data concerning the repetition of both further supports his narrative of a ‘negative’ recent past, a ‘revolutionary’ present and an ‘ideal’ future Greece of a distant past. In the construction of Papadopoulos’s concept of sacrifice, the following terms have been considered: θυσία (sacrifice), θυσιάζω (to sacrifice), αυτοθυσία and εθελοθυσία (self-sacrifice), and αυταπάρνησις (self- denial)—the last of which almost always appears alongside the term ‘self- sacrifice’. Sacrifice is repeated with above-average frequency in addresses to those Papadopoulos deemed ‘protectors’ of the nation, past and present: war veterans—an average of 0.9 times per page (ibid., pp. 36-9)—the Security Forces—an average of 1 time per page (ibid., pp. 138-43)—and the Armed Forces—a sustained average of 1 time per page (1969b: 61-71). He tells the Security Forces that it is only through the ‘spirit’ of sacrifice that they will be able to cleanse themselves of weaknesses from the recent past (1968a: 143). He tells the Armed Forces that their predecessors in such as the Occupation and Civil War left their mark on both Greek and universal history in a manner worthy of the ‘self-sacrifice of the generation of 1821’ (1968b: 70). It is thanks to them that the ethnocommunity exists today.

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The ‘tradition’ of sacrifice is one that has been inherited and, as Papadopoulos continues, just as this tradition revealed itself on 28 October, so too will it reveal itself once again with the guidance of his regime (1969a: 102; 1972: 18). Thus, in light of the above, it is appropriate that the highest averages of sacrifice are retained in addresses to this group, which commemorated past struggles in Greece. Sacrifice appears an overall 4, 2 and 3 times in short speeches that celebrated National Independence Day (1968b: 70; 1970b: 89; 2004: 45, respectively) and an overall 2, 4, 3 and 3 in ones that commemorated Ochi Day (1969a: 102; 1970b: 44-5, 47; 1972: 1811, respectively). Similarly, in speeches commemorating the military prowess of Greeks, sacrifice is repeated with high averages of 3.2, 2.3 and 2.6 times per page (1968b: 176-8; 1970a: 207-8; 2004: 97-8, respectively). It is in the first and last of these particular speeches that Papadopoulos again draws on the connection with the ‘glorious’ distant past:

Η ελληνική ψυχή γνωρίζει να αυτοθυσιάζεται, γνωρίζει να θυσιάζεται εθελοντικώς, όταν η φωνή της Πατρίδος την καλή δια να την προασπίση (1968b: 176).

The Greek soul knows how to sacrifice itself, it knows how to sacrifice itself willingly, when the voice of the Fatherland appeals to it for protection.

And it is this ‘willing sacrifice’ that is ‘truly the pinnacle of self-sacrifice’ (ibid.) and one which he again emphasises was instrumental in previous struggles (1970b: 45).

11 The repetition of sacrifice twice in a 1-page speech to the clergy on the same day (1972: 20) should be considered chronologically as the concept does not appear in other addresses to this group.

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Το βασικόν γνώρισµα του Εθνικού Χαρακτήρος µας είναι ότι προτιµώµεν την θυσίαν, από την ταπείνωσιν. Χρέος µας είναι να διαφυλάξωµεν εσαεί, και να αναπτύξωµεν, το λαµπρόν τούτο γνώρισµά µας (2004: 97).

The basic trait of our National Character is that we prefer sacrifice to humiliation. Our obligation is to eternally protect and to develop this brilliant trait of ours.

The need for individual sacrifice in the present is stressed consistently throughout his rule to various audiences; however, with comparatively low frequency.12 While Papadopoulos does occasionally specify certain things that need to be sacrificed in the present for the benefit of the future ethnocommunity, the concept of sacrifice is almost always discussed as an abstract; that is, without knowing exactly what must be sacrificed.13 Nonetheless, sacrifice is always directly linked to Greece’s heritage (1968a: 32); Great Greece would not exist save for the ‘sacrifice of previous souls’ (1968b: 52). The present ethnocommunity, therefore, needs to view sacrifice as an ‘obligation’ to this distant history and as the only solution to a prosperous future:

Η πατρίς κινδυνεύει και η θυσία υπέρ της πατρίδος είναι η πρώτη και η τελευταία κληρονοµία των προγόνων µας [...] Θα εύρωµεν το δίκαιόν µας, όταν εύρωµεν τον εαυτόν µας και όταν εύρωµεν εποµένως την πατρίδα µας. Την πατρίδα µας την έχοµεν χάσει. Τον εαυτόν µας τον χάνοµεν. Ας συνέλθωµεν δια να ανεύρωµεν τον εαυτόν µας και την πατρίδα και εν συνεχεία θα ανεύρωµεν οπωσδήποτε και το συµφέρον µας (ibid., p. 22).

12 Cf. averages of 0.3, 0.4 and 0.2 times per page during the first, second and third phases, respectively. 13 For example, he tells farmers that they have to sacrifice their ‘wallet’ or a few hours of their ‘coffee-shop mentality’ in order to progress into the future (1968b: 38, 127, respectively). In an early DET dinner address, it is the individual’s ‘infamous egoism’ which must be sacrificed (1969a: 49).

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The fatherland is in danger and sacrifice for the fatherland is the first and the last legacy of our ancestors […] We will find justice when we find ourselves and when, consequently, we find our fatherland. We have lost our fatherland. We are losing ourselves. Let us come to our senses so that we can find ourselves and our fatherland and then, certainly, we will find whatever is to our advantage.

The ethnocommunity must also, however, sacrifice as an ‘obligation’ to its descendants:

Ηµείς θυσίαν πρέπει να βλέπωµεν προς τα εµπρός, θυσίαν πρέπει να προσφέρωµεν. Και ας έχωµεν ήρεµον την συνείδησιν ότι αυτοθυσιαζόµενοι υπέρ των τέκνων µας αυτήν την περίοδον, εγγράφοµεν µίαν σελίδα δόξης εις τας δέλτους της Ελληνικής Ιστορίας, διότι την θυσίαν αυτήν περισσότερον παρά ποτέ άλλοτε έχει ανάγκην σήµερον η Πατρίς µας, δια να επιβιώση (1969b: 93).

We must see sacrifice ahead; we must offer sacrifice. And let us rest assured that by self-sacrificing for our offspring in this period, we are writing a glorious page on the tablets of Greek History because our Fatherland needs this sacrifice today more than ever, in order to survive.

Epigrammatically:

Η αυτοθυσία είναι η φλόγα που πρέπει να κατακαίη την θέλησιν των ατόµων (1972: 127).

Self-sacrifice is the flame that must consume the will of individuals.

Sacrifice appears with above-average frequency in early addresses to lawyers (1968b: 19-23), bankers (ibid., pp. 25-7), production workers

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(ibid., pp. 35-41), the merchant marine (ibid., pp. 51-4), scientists (ibid., pp. 72-7), public servants (1969b: 180-9) and the youth (1972: 71-2). This tendency should be contextualised chronologically as it is not repeated among these groups in later addresses. Similarly, Papadopoulos increases the repetition of sacrifice only in three earlier addresses to the press (1968a: 62-4, 78-87; 1969a: 10-18); however, no distinct connections exist among these speeches according to audience composition or time, as there were other addresses at this time to this group where sacrifice does not appear at all. Nor can conclusions be drawn according to content: the first address concerns the role of journalists in the present ethnocommunity; the second is an overall discussion of the present ethnocommunity to the foreign press; and the third discusses the proposed new constitution. In the 1970-1 New Year’s Eve address to the nation, sacrifice appears an average of 1.8 times per page (1972: 49-50). While this average is indeed high, it is not one that is repeated in other New Year’s addresses, nor in the majority of addresses hoping to emphasise the positive attributes of the regime.14 Similarly, sacrifice is repeated with quite high averages of 1.1 and 1.4 times per page in two of the first DET addresses (1969a: 48-52; 1970b: 12-15), yet appears in relatively small frequencies or not at all in later addresses (ibid., p. 162; 1972: 117, 119-20, 122-30; 2004: 100-1, 103-6, 107-14). In a 1-page welcome dinner address to the Spanish foreign minister in August 1971, where sacrifice is repeated an overall 3 times (1972: 112), he refers to the historical figures of Cervantes and Theotokopoulos (El Greco) to illustrate that just as neither of these historical figures feared sacrifice, nor should their respective present ethnocommunities. The emphasis on sacrifice, however, is not maintained in addresses to official

14 One exception is the 1.2-times-per-page average, predominantly in the closing paragraphs, in a long speech to the citizens of Thessaloniki (1969b: 84-96) regarding the aims of the Revolution.

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governmental representatives from overseas. It appears only once in an earlier address to visiting German ministers (1969a: 20-3) and not at all in earlier addresses to Rumanian ministers (1972: 99, 101), or, for that matter, in addresses delivered three months after the aforementioned one to the Spanish foreign minister, and to the visiting vice-president of the USA (ibid., pp. 138, 140, 142, 144). There are tendencies to increase the frequency of sacrifice in addresses to particular audiences at particular times. For example, sacrifice is repeated with above-average frequency in a series of speeches to his ministries in May/June 1969: six averages of 0.66, 0.9, 1.1, 1.1, 0.7 and 0.6 (1970a: 80-8, 92-100, 102-8, 116-21, 149-52, 154-61).15 What is interesting is that in both speeches Papadopoulos delivers to his ministers at this time concerning his assumption of the Foreign Ministry, sacrifice is repeated with very high averages of 2.6 and 2.5 times per page, and then, predominantly in the opening paragraphs of the address (1970b: 139-41, 143-6, respectively). This increase might suggest that the concept was used by Papadopoulos as a justification for so many additions to his portfolio at this time: Prime Minister, Defence Minister, and Minister of Government Policy. It appears with above-average frequency in two addresses to the education sector during the first phase (1968b: 56-62; 79-88) and two during the second phase (1970a: 10-15, 123-5). The only commonality that can be drawn from among these speeches is that two of them are given at the University in Thessaloniki (1968b: 79-88; 1970a: 123-5); however, considering that in the first address to this university (1968a: 110-12) sacrifice does not appear at all, no absolute conclusion can be drawn. What is important about the use of sacrifice in addresses to this sector is that it is consistently repeated to emphasise how any freedoms that are

15 Sacrifice is also repeated with a high average of 1.8 times per page in the opening address of a conference on prefectures in November 1969 (1970b: 51-5).

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deemed to have been curbed within this sector by the regime should be seen, simply, as a sacrifice made on this sector’s behalf for the benefit of future generations. Thus, using a contrastive pair ‘not a, but b’, Papadopoulos assures the tertiary educational sector of this:

∆εν είµεθα οι εχθροί των Ανωτάτων Εκπαιδευτικών Ιδρυµάτων. Είµεθα απλώς [αυτοί οι οποίοι] µε πλήρη αυτοθυσίαν και αποφασιστικότητα θα προσφέρωµεν εις το Έθνος αυτό δια το οποίον είµεθα αποφασισµένοι και να θυσιασθώµεν (1968b: 58).

We are not the enemies of the Institutes of Higher education. We are simply [those who] with absolute self-sacrifice and determination will offer the nation that for which we are also determined to sacrifice ourselves.

Moreover, in an address to the institutes of tertiary education in March 1973—one that was given in response to the first mass-based at the Law School in Thessaloniki—he assures his audience that the Revolutionary Government will secure ‘social serenity and order’ of the ethnocommunity through any sacrifice which the nation ‘demands’ and ‘crush’ any movement against it (2004: 183). In March 1968, when Papadopoulos announces the promulgation of a new constitution and the abolition of farmers’ debts, he proposes his regime as the ideal example of sacrifice to other audiences as well: to lawyers, to financial institutions and production workers, respectively (1968b: 21, 26, 36). He ends a speech to technical professionals by emphasising (and perhaps, warning) that those who have the ‘Revolutionary spirit’ possess:

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τόσην αυτοθυσίαν, ώστε µόνον υπεράνω του κορµιού των θα ήτο δυνατόν να περάση ο οιοσδήποτε, θα ηδύνατο να περάση, επαναλαµβάνω, ο οιοσδήποτε (ibid., p. 77).

so much self-sacrifice, that only over their dead bodies would it be possible for anyone to pass, would it be possible, I repeat, for anyone to pass.

In later addresses, sacrifice is again presented in a contrasting pair ‘not a, but b’. In the example to students above, the regime is not the ‘enemy’, but a body willing to do everything to sacrifice itself for the collective. Similarly, at the beginning of a New Year’s Eve address to the nation in 1972, this sacrifice which is demanded by the regime does not take the form of ‘deprivation’ for the ethnocommunity in the present in the name of future aims (1972: 49):

∆εν εθυσιάσαµεν το παρόν χάριν του µέλλοντος. Εβελτιώσαµεν το παρόν, το οποίον παρελάβοµεν και το οποίον ενθυµείσθε όλοι πόσον δυσάρεστον και επικίνδυνον ήτο, και οικοδοµούµεν παραλλήλως ένα µέλλον αντάξιον της Ελλάδος (ibid.).

We have not sacrificed the present for the good of the future. We have improved the present which we inherited and which you all recall how deplorable and dangerous it was, and at the same time we construct a future worthy of Greece.

Papadopoulos sustains an above-average repetition of sacrifice also in speeches to citizens in rural centres (1969b: 99-109, 202-6, 215-7; 1970b: 120-4, 175; 2004: 60-2, 202) where he appears to be carried away somewhat by the powerful connotations of the concept. It is predominantly in these addresses to rural audiences that Papadopoulos parallels the sacrifices that a father would make for his child, with those that citizens of

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Greece should make for their ethnocommunity (1969b: 53, 93, 109). Moreover, it is in a later address to the citizens of Mesolonghi during the third phase, that he draws upon an important component of the notion of sacrifice: its religious significance. Here, he states that it is not only through recalling history or the sacrifices of the ‘Free Besieged’ that the present ethnocommunity will regain its notion of ‘humanity’; it is also through the example of the crucifixion of the Son of God—the ultimate image of self-sacrifice (2004: 62). Thus, the notion of sacrifice maintains an important religious parallel, which, as has been discussed, is the second essential component of Papadopoulos’s Greece of the Greek Christians. The consistent repetition of the concept of faith, however, serves to underline the importance of the religious element in Papadopoulos’s diptych. In examining the concept of faith, Papadopoulos’s repetition of the following terms are considered: πιστεύω (to believe), πίστις (belief, faith, loyalty), πιστός (faithful), πεποίθησις (conviction, belief), εµπιστεύοµαι (to trust, to have faith in something), and εµπιστοσύνη (trust, faith in something). While it is acknowledged that not all terms have the same degree of religious connotation, the overlap in their individual meaning can and is exploited. As is to be discussed below, Papadopoulos’s motivations to use terms that represent faith are fundamentally the same: firstly, to stress the link to a religious heritage; secondly, to insist on support for and trust in the regime’s ability to provide this foundation for future generations. The need for faith is motivated by two very important arguments of Papadopoulos. Firstly, that Christianity and the distant history again becomes an integral part of the future ethnocommunity, and that the mentality of the recent past remains there:

Είναι ανάγκη να επανέλθωµεν εις την πίστιν επί την ιστορικήν κληρονοµίαν του Έθνους µας (1968b: 83).

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It is necessary that we return to the faith in the historical heritage of our nation.

Πρέπει να πιστεύουν όλοι ότι πρέπει να εγκαταλείψουν την νοοτροπίαν του παρελθόντος και να ξαναγίνουν Έλληνες (ibid., p. 182).

Everybody has to believe that they have to abandon the mentality of the past and to become Greek again.

And, secondly, that the present ethnocommunity trust, have faith, believe that this will only be achieved through the guidance of the current regime:

Αι υποχρεώσεις µας περιγράφονται και από την θρησκείαν και από την ιστορίαν µας. Οµόνοιαν και αγάπην διδάσκει ο Χριστός. Πίστιν εις την Πατρίδα επιτάσσει η Ιστορία µας. Πίστιν και εµπιστοσύνην εις την δύναµιν της φυλής µας. Πίστιν εις την ευγενή άµιλλαν, την άµιλλαν, η οποία πρέπει να είναι ευγενής όχι µόνον εις τον χώρον που ευρισκόµεθα σήµερον, αλλά και εις τον κοινωνικόν στίβον. Πίστιν πρέπει να έχωµεν πάντοτε. Και µεταφέροντες αυτάς τας επιταγάς ως πράξιν εις την ζωήν µας, ας είµεθα βέβαιοι ότι θα αποτελή επέκεινα διά τους Έλληνας, εις την ιστορίαν της χώρας µας, σύµβολον η ιαχή: η Ελλάς αναγεννάται, η Ελλάς θα µεγαλουργήση, η Ελλάς πάντα θα ζη (ibid., p. 136).

Our obligations are described by both our religion and our history. Christ teaches harmony and love. Our history demands faith in our Fatherland. Faith and confidence in the strength of our race. Faith in noble rivalry, rivalry which has to be noble not just in the area where we find ourselves today, but also in the social arena. We have to have faith always.

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And while we transform these commands into everyday practice in our lives, let us be sure that, beyond this, a war cry will exist for the Greeks, in the history of our land, as a symbol: Greece is being reborn, Greece will achieve great things, Greece will live forever.

Faith, like morality and Christianity, is stressed predominantly in speeches delivered during the first phase—cf. overall averages of 1.1, 0.8 and 0.6 times per page during the first, second and third phases, respectively—and appears with above-average frequency in addresses to all audiences. Faith is stressed with above-average frequency in addresses to various audiences for no discernable reason. For example, it appears with above-average frequency in an address delivered to professionals regarding the ‘benefits’ of the Truman Doctrine to post-WW2 Greece (1968a: 41-4), to the legal sector (1968a: 128-9), to medical professionals (1969a: 91-4; 1969b: 26-8, 164-71), to members of the new Committee of Royal Welfare (1969a: 177-8) and to participants in the first meeting of professional programming (1969b: 41-6). Additionally, it appears with a high average of 1.9 times per page in an early address to the financial sector (1968b: 25- 7). Additionally, public servants have the notion of faith repeated with high average of 2.2, 2, 1.5 and 2.3 times per page (ibid., pp. 43-9, 131-2; 1969b: 180-9, 193-8). One could argue that this was an attempt to assure their sector that its reorganisation will indeed eventuate under his leadership. Papadopoulos does, however, appear to make choices as to the repetition of faith among particular audiences and/or at particular times. Like the data from morality and Christianity, faith is also repeated consistently to representatives of the Church (1969b: 38-9; To Vima 16 Nov. 1972, p. 8; 2004: 133-4) and to more ‘traditional’ components of the ethnocommunity living and working in rural centres (1968a: 49, 49-50,

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114; 1968b: 35-41,118-9, 121-7, 144-9, 151, 152; 1969b: 99-109, 191-2, 202-6; 1970b: 120-4, 154, 167, 169, 171, 175; 1972: 86; 2004: 155, 156- 7). Furthermore, there appears to be a tendency for Papadopoulos to stress faith to the shapers of public opinion both in Greece and overseas. The concept is repeated with above-average frequency in a number of addresses to the press (1968a: 17-23, 55-60, 78-87; 1968b: 163-71; 1969a: 151-8; 1969b: 10-13, 30-4, 219-20; 1970b: 64-75; 2004: 161-2, 171). To the foreign press, the frequency of faith tends to be higher: averages of 1.8, 1.9 and 1.25 times per page in an address to the European Economic Press in February 1969 and interviews with British and Turkish journalists, respectively (1969b: 15-21; 1970b: 156-60; 1972: 92-5). It also appears with above-average frequency in addresses to Greeks overseas (1968a: 52-3, 125-6; 1968b: 110; 1969a: 25-6; 1970b: 42), in later addresses to visiting governmental representatives from Spain (1972: 112) and the USA (ibid., pp. 138, 140, 144; To Vima 6 July 1972, p. 1 & 2) and in DET addresses (1970b: 10, 12-15, 17-22, 162; 1972: 119-20, 122- 30; 2004: 100-1, 103-6)—with a particularly high average of 3, 4 and 2.3 times per page in the 34th DET addresses (1970b: 10, 12-15, 17-22, respectively), delivered just prior to the announcement regarding the regime’s withdrawal from the Council of Europe. As was previously indicated, Papadopoulos predisposition to the concept of faith emphasises the importance of both religious faith and the ethnocommunity’s alleged faith in his regime. Thus, his tendency to repeat the concept to the press and then, to predominantly international audiences, indicates his desire to pacify groups whose opinion and actions could and did affect the regime’s standing within the nation and overseas. Similarly, the above-average frequency of faith with relative consistency in speeches to the educational sector (1968a: 110-2, 148-58; 1968b: 51-4,

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56-62, 79-88; 1969b: 113-21; 1972: 84, 105-8) should also be viewed in this same light. Papadopoulos’s exploitation of the concept of faith appears to also motivate the above-average frequency of it in an address to the Security Forces (1968a: 138-43), official NATO addresses (1969a: 123-4; 1972: 154; 2004: 117-18), and two speeches to war veterans (1968a: 36-9; 1970b: 44- 5)—the former noting a particularly high average of 2.9 times per page as it was one of the first official speeches Papadopoulos delivered (1968a: 36-9). In later speeches to the Armed Forces in rural areas and in commemoration of National Independence Day (1969b: 61-71; 1970b: 89; 1972: 69) and in speeches celebrating the Greeks’ military prowess (1970b: 164-5; 1972: 114-5) or celebrating Ochi Day (1969a: 107; 1970b: 42, 44- 5), faith also appears with above-average frequency. Firstly, recalling that morality was emphasised with relative consistency also with these groups, this tendency to repeat faith is indicative of the emphasis Papadopoulos continued to place on the ‘pious’ example that these ‘heroes’, as he deemed them, provide the present ethnocommunity. Moreover, as ‘protectors’, past and present, of the ethnocommunity, their allegiance to the nation is indeed evident. Thus, the other meaning of faith can be exploited: they have been and they continue to be faithful to the state. Secondly, these ‘assurances’ are extended in speeches to the international ‘protective’ body of NATO—speeches which also noted an above-average frequency of the concept of morality. The repetition of faith is particularly relevant to this group, when the importance of Greece’s ongoing role within the NATO alliance during this time is considered, particularly in relation to the escalating Cyprus issue and other geopolitical concerns.16

16 See Chapter 1.2, pp. 71-2, 77, 86-8.

239 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.4 – The ‘Ideal’ Future of a Distant Past

The importance of faith in the regime’s leadership is naturally stressed with above-average frequency in a number of speeches to ministers and other representatives of the government (1968a: 66-7; 1969a: 111; 1969b: 75-82; 1970a: 145-7, 149-52, 176-80; 1970b: 51-5, 143-6; 1972: 52-60, 156-7; 2004: 48-58, 124-8). It appears with particularly high averages in key speeches which all aimed at highlighting loyalty to the regime: at an average of 3.5 times per page in the first address to his ministers (1968a: 66-7); at an average of 2.3 times per page in an address to his Foreign Ministry (1970a: 145-7)—a ministry directly in charge of the government’s policy overseas; and at an average of 3.8 times per page at a conference on prefectures in November 1969 (1970b: 51-5)— a month prior to Greece’s withdrawal from the Council of Europe. The average of 4 times per page in his announcement of the undertaking of the Foreign Ministry in July 1970 (ibid., pp. 143-6), however, should be seen as an attempt to show the alleged loyalty to Papadopoulos and faith in him. At this time, divisions within the junta rank and file were becoming more obvious. Adding this ministry to his already overloaded portfolio, was not holding Papadopoulos in very good stead amongst his ministers, many of whom, by this stage, were growing weary of his overwhelming domination. Similarly, faith is emphasised strongly in addresses celebrating the anniversary of the regime (1968b: 131-2, 136; 1970a: 42-5; 1970b: 112- 14) and in ones aiming to highlight its ability or its unique attributes: in the New Year’s addresses following the King’s attempted and failed counter-coup, faith appears an average of 2.5 times per page (1968a: 104- 5); in the 1968 and 1973 post-Referendum addresses, faith is repeated an average of 2.9 and 2 times per page (1969a: 84-5; 2004: 238-9, respectively). Papadopoulos’s insistence on collective faith in the cultural and religious inheritance of the ethnocommunity as well as in its ability to pass

240 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.4 – The ‘Ideal’ Future of a Distant Past

this legacy on to future generations is appropriately reflected in the title of the compilation of his political speeches: Το Πιστεύω Μας (Our Creed). Its significance lies with the combination of the pronominal ‘our’ with the word ‘Creed’ or ‘Belief’. Its presentation attempts to indicate that any views espoused by Papadopoulos throughout his rule and documented in these eight volumes are shared views; they are not his own, they are beliefs of the ethnocommunity. Additionally, it draws a likely parallel to the Nicean Creed; thereby, its use intentionally attempts to link the ethnocommunity with its Christian foundation. Papadopoulos’s lexical insistence on ‘honouring’ the distant history and Christianity and providing these through sacrifice as a foundation to the ethnocommunity’s descendants, also aims at emphasising their provision only through the regime. It is only because of the regime that:

ανοίγεται ενώπιόν µας ένα µέλλον αντάξιον της ενδόξου ιστορίας µας (1968b: 114).

a future is opening up before us that is worthy of our glorious history.

Furthermore, it is only through faith in the regime and its vision of an ideal future that another ‘glorious page of history’ will be written and that this ‘obligation’ to the legacy of the distant past and Christianity will be fulfilled for the ethnocommunity’s descendants. It is a shared endeavour and one for which they are obliged to complete:

Το έργον δεν είναι ιδικόν µου, το έργον δεν είναι µιας οµάδος ανθρώπων, το έργον δεν είναι ουδενός προσώπου. Είναι έργον των Ελλήνων, του οποίου, είτε το θέλοµεν είτε δεν το θέλοµεν, είµεθα οι σκυταλοδρόµοι. Οφείλοµεν να τερµατίσωµεν και να παραδώσωµεν την σκυτάλην εις άτοµα, τα οποία θα είµεθα βέβαιοι ότι θα συνεχίσουν να την µεταφέρουν προς τα εµπρός, δια να την παραδώσουν και αυτά εις χείρας ανθρώπων

241 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 2.4 – The ‘Ideal’ Future of a Distant Past

ικανών δια την συνέχισιν του ιστορικού εθνικού δρόµου της χώρας µας (1969b: 71).

The task is not mine, the task is not that of a group of people, the task is not of an individual. It is the task of the Greeks, for which, regardless of whether we want it or not, we are the baton bearers. We are obliged to finish the race and to hand over the baton to individuals who we are sure will continue themselves to carry it forward in order to deliver it into capable people’s hands for the continuation of the historic national path of our country.

242 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.1 – The Doctor

Part Three: Medical and Biological Analogies Chapter 3.1 – The Doctor

Ο ιατρός συνδέεται µε τον ασθενή κατά κάποιον τρόπον τελείως διάφορον από την οποιανδήποτε άλλην σύνδεσιν επαγγελµατικής συνεργασίας ή δράσεως. Συνδέεται κατά την ψυχήν, συνδέεται ως ο σωτήρ προς τον σωζόµενον (1969b: 168).

The doctor is bonded to the patient in a way that is completely different from any other bond of professional collaboration or action. He is linked by the soul, he is linked as the saviour [is linked] to the one being saved.

This chapter will discuss how Papadopoulos presents the leadership through specific medical analogies. As Papadopoulos asserts in the quotation above, the relationship between a doctor (ιατρός, iatros) and their patient (ασθενής, asthenis) is a unique one: they are linked somatically and spiritually. In Papadopoulos’s rhetoric, the doctor is analogous to his regime (the leadership), while the patient is analogous to the Greek people (the ethnocommunity). There are two specific characteristics inherent to Papadopoulos’s definition of the doctor on which he focuses: that of capable and learned diagnostician and that of caring and determined healer. By emphasising these specific attributes of the doctor, and paralleling the doctor to his regime, Papadopoulos is thus able to present the Revolution as indispensable to both the present ethnocommunity and to its progress and future prosperity; the regime is metaphorically shown as capable, learned, caring and determined. Furthermore, such emphasis underlines how if such qualities are inherent to the regime, respect and trust from the ethnocommunity in the regime’s capabilities and determination to succeed should surely follow.

243 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.1 – The Doctor

The relevance of presenting the doctor as the person most capable of diagnosing the illnesses of the patient and prescribing the appropriate treatment lies with its parallel to Papadopoulos’s need to present the Revolution as the body most capable of judging the problems facing the ethnocommunity and making any decisions to combat such problems, accordingly.1 As he explains to political representatives in Serres:

Εµελετήσαµεν το θέµα και θα αποπειραθώµεν την θεραπείαν (1969b: 76).

We studied the subject and we will attempt its treatment.

Papadopoulos is suggesting an expertise: if the doctor has studied the patient, then the doctor is the person who is most knowledgeable about the patient; therefore, the doctor is the most qualified to determine the best and most appropriate treatment for the patient. Literally, if the Revolution has an expertise as to the roots of Greece’s problems, it is also the most qualified to combat these problems. To the political representatives in Epirus, he also emphasises the regime’s protagonistic role in determining and ‘treating’ the illness:

Ηµείς θα επισηµάνωµεν τας αδυναµίας. Ηµείς θα προκαλέσωµεν τους τρόπους θεραπείας (1969b: 195).

We will pinpoint the weaknesses. We will initiate the methods of treatment.

Papadopoulos focuses on this particular trait of learned and capable diagnostician only with particular groups. Curiously, he does not stress

1 A discussion of the personification of the ethnocommunity through the illnesses of the patient takes place in Chapter 3.3.

244 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.1 – The Doctor

the ‘diagnostic’ capabilities of the Revolution with groups who were more opposed to the regime and, in that sense, deemed more problematic for it, such as the press, or students.2 On the contrary, he elaborates on the leadership’s ‘diagnostic’ abilities only with its official and representative bodies, and then, does so predominantly during the first phase of the dictatorship. Even when Papadopoulos personifies himself as the diagnostician in mid-March 1968, it is to the directors of Greek banking institutions—a group who, by that stage, had junta-approved representatives:

Θα προσπαθήσω όµως, θεωρών ότι επεράτωσα ως ιατρός το σύνολον των εξετάσεων αι οποίαι έγιναν κατά την περίοδον του δεκαµήνου, προκειµένου να προσδιορίσω την ασθένειαν του ασθενούς (1968b: 25).

Considering, however, that I, as a doctor, have completed all the examinations over the 10-month period, I will make the attempt in order to ascertain the patient’s illness.

In this speech, he outlines how his first-hand experience of the illness will provide him with the necessary criteria with which to effectively judge the situation. Importantly, he also suggests that a doctor requires time to diagnose. In this case, at the beginning of his power, it was only 10- months; however, during the last phase of the dictatorship, he admits to his Advisory Committee that a doctor needs a minimum of nine years of study to become fully qualified (2004: 52-3). This assertion in the third phase of the dictatorship, one week after Papadopoulos assumed the Regency, though meant to be literal, is interesting if one considers his

2 There is one exception to this. In an earlier address, Papadopoulos tells the press that the regime-nominated Constitutional Committee will also need time to ascertain what illnesses need to be healed (1968b: 17). As will become evident in subsequent chapters, however, this exception lends itself more to supporting the notion that the Constitution of 1968 is representative of the best kind of ‘medicine’ offered by the doctor to ‘heal’ the patient, rather than reinforcing the regime’s role as diagnostician.

245 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.1 – The Doctor

propensity to present the doctor figuratively as the regime. By expressly calling attention to the length of time a doctor requires ‘to perfect’ his skill, he appears to be seeking to do two things simultaneously. Firstly, justify the longevity of his regime, by now, in its seventh year. Secondly, address the increasingly prominent public objections to the regime by suggesting that the doctor needs more time ‘to perfect’ his training. Nevertheless, Papadopoulos continues to emphasise his own knowledge as instrumental to the effective ‘diagnosis’ of the illness of the patient:

Ίσως δεν θα την εγνώριζον και εγώ, άν δεν είχον ασχοληθή µε το θέµα, προκειµένου να αντιµετωπίσω την θεραπείαν (1969b: 186).

Perhaps even I would not know it, if I had not concerned myself with the subject, in order to address the treatment.

As he is qualified to examine the situation and, therefore, diagnose the problems, consequently, he is also obliged to do everything in his power to ensure that this problem does not continue in the future. Thus, as a complement to the capable and learned diagnostician, Papadopoulos proposes himself as the caring and determined healer:

Εγώ έχω οπωσδήποτε απόφασιν να θεραπεύσω τον ασθενή δια της εγχειρήσεως, παρ’ ότι σας στενοχωρώ, δεν θα σας κάµω την χάριν να σας αφήσω ακόµη ελευθέρους, όσο και αν αυτό στενοχωρή υµάς ή ενδεχοµένως και άλλους (1968b: 11).

I have absolutely decided to treat the patient through surgery, even though I upset you, I will not do you the favour of letting you go free just yet, as much as this upsets you or, potentially, others as well.

246 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.1 – The Doctor

As the doctor cannot let anything impede the successful treatment of the patient, the methods that he can employ to combat the illness can be extreme, if the illness itself requires it. Thus, taking into account that this message is delivered emphatically to the press: censorship will remain regardless of whether journalists, both at home and overseas, object to it. As Papadopoulos asserts, the Revolution, as doctor, will stop at nothing to help ‘το να αποκαθάρωµεν πάσαν αµαρτίαν ή νόσον από του σώµατος του Έθνους’ (to purge every sin or illness from the Nation’s body) (1968a: 21). In fact, it promises ‘να παρέχη περίθαλψιν ασθενείας εις όσην έκτασιν χρειάζεται’ (to undertake the treatment of the illness to whatever extent necessary) (1969a: 177). Hence, as is evident from both the previous block quotation and the following one, the metaphoric doctor justifiably becomes a surgeon (χειρουργός, cheirourgos):

Η Επανάστασις θα πραγµατώση τους σκοπούς της και θα τους πραγµατώση φέρουσα εις πέρας την εγχείρησιν, όπως ο χειρουργός εις την τράπεζαν. ∆ιότι εάν δεν επιτύχη η εγχείρησις, ο ασθενής θα αποθάνη. Έστω και αν πονέση ο άρρωστος, έστω και αν κλαίουν οι φίλοι του, η Επανάστασις θα επιτύχη του σκοπού δια τον οποίον έγινε, διότι πιστεύει ότι αυτό σηµαίνει την ζωήν του Ελληνικού Λαού, σηµαίνει την ζωήν της Ελλάδος (1968b: 31).

The Revolution will realise its aims and it will realise them by successfully completing the surgery, like the surgeon at the operating table. Because, should the surgery not succeed, the patient will die. Even if the patient hurts, even if his friends cry, the Revolution will achieve the purpose for which it occurred, because it believes that this means the life of the Greek People; it means the life of Greece.

Interestingly, Papadopoulos’s focus on the determination of the doctor/surgeon pervades speeches to the press, also during the first phase.

247 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.1 – The Doctor

In fact, as will be discussed in Chapters 3.3 and 3.4, it is to the press that the majority of the medical metaphors are elaborated. Moreover, it is to the press that the measures necessarily employed by the doctor to combat the illness are developed most vividly. Metaphorically, surgery is justified, because the learned, qualified and determined doctor sees ‘death’ as the only alternative; therefore, it is of no consequence if the patient or his friends are ‘upset’ or ‘hurt’—the patient must survive. Literally, censorship of the press is justified because the regime, having had time to determine and understand the ‘real’ issues of Greece, is qualified in determining how best to resolve them. Removing press freedoms, therefore, is of little consequence—as are the national and international objections to this action—when the ‘life’, the future prosperity of the nation is endangered. In this endeavour, the regime has a fundamental obligation:

Ως χειρουργοί, είµεθα υποχρεωµένοι να εξουδετερώσωµεν του τιναγµούς και τους κραδασµούς που κάµνετε εις το χειρουργικόν µας κρεββάτι (1968a: 17).

As surgeons, we are obliged to neutralise the jerking and the convulsions that you have on our operating table.

Furthermore:

Έχετε υποχρέωσιν να σεβασθήτε την σοβαρότητα της εγχειρήσεως και να µας βοηθήσετε (ibid.).

You have an obligation to respect the seriousness of the surgery and to help us.

Through this medical analogy, he continues to justify the removal of fundamental press freedoms, again by pointing out the role of the

248 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.1 – The Doctor

determined doctor who will let nothing stand in the way of the successful treatment of the patient:

∆εν έχοµεν διάθεσιν να δεχθώµεν ούτε τας αντανακλαστικάς αντιδράσεις, που κάµνει το συµπαθητικόν του ναρκωµένου ασθενούς (1968a: 23).

We are not disposed to accept even the reflex reactions of the sympathetic system of the anaesthetised patient.

Similarly, he tells the production sector in March 1968 that if changes are not made in their sector, if the nation does not heed the ‘warning bell’, then collectively:

θα παραµείνωµεν δεµένοι εις το κρεββάτι του µελλοθάνατου δια να αποθάνωµεν (1968b: 37).

we will remain tied to the death-bed to die.

He insists, however, that ‘death’ is not an option and, interestingly, also assigns the role of doctor to this sector:

Αλλά αυτό είναι κάτι το οποίον δεν έχοµεν το δικαίωµα να πράξωµεν, δεν έχοµεν το δικαίωµα να το επιτρέψωµεν εις ηµάς αυτούς. Οφείλοµεν να αναστήσωµεν τον µελλοθάνατον ελληνικόν κοινωνικόν οργανισµόν. Και εις την προσπάθειαν αυτήν έχετε µίαν σοβαράν αρµοδιότητα ως ιατροί (1968b: 37).

But this is something which we do not have the right to do; we do not have the right to allow ourselves this to happen. We are obliged to resurrect the dying Greek social body. And, in this effort, you have a serious competence as doctors.

249 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.1 – The Doctor

The production sector’s key participation in the future prosperity of Greece metaphorically becomes viable: according to Papadopoulos, this sector is capable, knowledgeable, and determined to see Greece survive and prosper in the future. In fact, Greece, as the patient, depends on it. To his colleagues in the Ministry of Education, he emphasises the importance of their becoming doctors:

Ηµείς οι ίδιοι, ασθενείς όντες, πρέπει να καταστώµεν ικανοί ιατροί δι’ αυτοθεραπείαν και δια θεραπείαν των άλλων γύρω µας (1970a: 149).

We ourselves, being sick, must become doctors capable of healing ourselves and healing all those around us.

This choice is interesting in that he is placing a special emphasis on the essential role of education in the present and future ethnocommunity. He insinuates something similar some months prior, again to representatives of his government, by stressing that their role in the treatment of the patient one: to recognise how important it is to ‘teach’ the ethnocommunity’s citizens (1969b: 80). While Papadopoulos does not assign the role of the doctor to any additional group, he appoints various other audiences to the role of social worker (κοινωνικός λειτουργός, koinonikos leitourgos). Utilising the inclusive ‘we’, he tells public servants that we all must become these for the betterment of the ethnocommunity, the social whole (κοινωνικό σύνολο, koinoniko synolo) (1968a: 117; 1969b: 188). He cautions the press to direct themselves towards their profession from the position of a social worker (1969b: 13). He tells the Security Forces that as social workers:

οφείλοµεν να αποκαθάρωµεν τα άτοµα από τας αδυναµίας του παρελθόντος (1968a: 143).

250 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.1 – The Doctor

we are obliged to purge individuals of the weaknesses of the past.

Through this personification, Papadopoulos is able to bestow upon various groups a fundamental role in the patient’s recovery, but not the protagonistic one. The role of a social worker involves caring for the patient and improving how they function and interact as an individual within the wider community. A social worker, however, does not possess the same decision-making abilities that are intrinsic to a doctor or a surgeon; that is, the ability to prescribe treatments and/or perform surgery. Furthermore, while the dominant characteristic of the former is that of a ‘carer’ and ‘nurturer’ of an individual within a group, the dominant characteristic of the latter is that of learned and capable healer and, importantly, diagnostician. These distinct qualities of ‘caring’ social worker and ‘healing’ and ‘diagnosing’ surgeon become clear when they are amalgamated in one of his last medical references, at a surgical conference at the end of 1968. While the term social worker is repeated at a comparatively high average of twice per page in this speech (1969a: 91-4), Papadopoulos uses the opportunity to re-define his own role more acutely as a ‘surgeon of society’:

∆εν είµαι ιατρός. ∆εν είµαι χειρουργός. Ίσως είµαι κοινωνικός χειρουργός (1969a: 91).

I am not a doctor. I am not a surgeon. Perhaps I am a social surgeon.

Additionally, it is at this conference that the need for ‘trust’ in the diagnostic decisions of the doctor is stressed as paramount to the successful recovery of the patient:

251 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.1 – The Doctor

Η θεραπεία πολλάκις του ασθενούς, κατά ένα µεγάλο ποσοστόν βασίζεται εις την εµπιστοσύνην, την οποίαν θα εµπνεύση προς τον ασθενή ο ιατρός ως θεράπων γιατρός (1969a: 91).

Many times, the treatment of the patient, to a large extent, depends on trust which the doctor, as an attendant, inspires in the patient.

Metaphorically, therefore, an image is presented of a doctor who can at once be trusted and relied upon to make the best judgments as to the illnesses that affect the patient and, consequently, the most effective ways to overcome them. The attributes of knowledge, capability, care and determination inherent in Papadopoulos’s conception of the doctor, surgeon and social worker aim at justifying both Papadopoulos’s and the dictatorship’s initial and continued presence; that is, both he and the regime are there and remain there because they are the most qualified body in making decisions for the ‘health’ of the ethnocommunity as a whole. Furthermore, because of their determination and qualifications, they are able to justify any methods employed in ‘treating’ the illnesses of the patient’s physical constitution—a constitution that shall now be examined in more detail.

252 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.2 – The Patient

Chapter 3.2 – The Patient

Μην ξεχνάτε όµως, κύριοι, ότι ευρισκόµεθα προ ενός ασθενούς, τον οποίον έχοµεν επί της χειρουργικής κλινής. Ο χρόνος αναρρώσεως του ασθενούς µετά την εγχείρησιν, ως και η διάρκεια της εγχειρήσεως είναι κάτι, το οποίον εξαρτάται [επίσης] από την δύναµιν του οργανισµού [του ασθενή] να αντιδράση και να αποκατασταθή εις την υγείαν του (1968a: 11-12).

Do not forget though, gentlemen, that we find ourselves before a patient, whom we have on an operating table. The recovery time of the patient after the surgery, as well as the duration of the surgery, is something which depends [also] on the strength of the [patient’s] physical constitution to react and recover its health.1

This chapter will examine how Papadopoulos uses medical and biological analogies to represent the ethnocommunity and individual sectors within it as the patient (ασθενής, asthenis) and, specifically to this chapter, as its entire physical constitution. Papadopoulos chooses to personify particular audiences at different times as various parts of the ‘body of the nation’ and, thus, he is able to assign individual responsibilities to various sectors of the ethnocommunity. Metaphorically, he constructs a situation in which, if a certain part of the body does not function as it should, as determined by the doctor (ιατρός, iatros), the patient will remain ‘unhealthy’ or ‘die’.

1 The English physical constitution has predominantly been used in the translation of the Greek ‘οργανισµός’. To distinguish it from the legislative Constitutions, it will always appear in lower case and always be qualified with the adjective ‘physical’. When ‘οργανισµός’ becomes part of one of Papadopoulos’s biological analogies, however, the terms organism and human organism are favoured; the former, to reflect smaller molecular and cellular overtones of his representation and the latter, to reflect their cumulated macro-structure. Additionally, it should be noted that as Papadopoulos frequently qualifies ‘οργανισµός’ with the adjective ‘social’, the awkwardness of presenting the English translation as ‘a social physical constitution’ favoured the use of the term body.

253 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.2 – The Patient

Literally, if not all sectors of the ethnocommunity act responsibly, in ways that are predetermined by Papadopoulos and the regime, the entire ethnocommunity will suffer and be unable to progress. The ethnocommunity of today and tomorrow is represented to diverse groups as the body (σώµα, soma) or skeleton (σκελετός, skeletos) of Greece. The image appears in speeches to technicians (1968b: 72, 76), workers (1968b: 132), lawyers (1968b: 21; 1969b: 148, 150), the merchant marine (1968b: 52; 1969b: 153), the Armed Forces (1969a: 102), war veterans (1970b: 45), MPs (1972: 60; 2004: 77) and professionals (1968a: 81; 2004: 88). The educational sector is appropriately assigned the status of the future body, which, through its knowledge, will become ‘το δυναµικόν της Πατρίδος, το κορµόν του λαού’ (the dynamic of the Fatherland, the body of the people) (1968b: 56). Similarly, Papadopoulos consistently refers to students and the youth as the skeleton ‘of hope of the Nation’s future’ (1968a: 148), as the skeleton or body of tomorrow (1968a: 156, 158; 1968b: 79). Representing an ethnocommunity through medical and biological analogies is not necessarily a period-specific or culture-specific or representation. For example, in post-World War 2 (WW2) American and British political discourse, Greece was frequently referred to as a patient— in the sense of both physical and mental ailments (Yannas 1994). What is interesting about Papadopoulos’s somatic and biological analogies, however, is that he consistently aligns particular parts or systems of the body with specific audiences at particular times—all of which are irreplaceable and whose healthy performance is essential. The press, for example, is presented as ‘το κέντρον που κινεί το νευρικόν σύστηµα’ (the centre that moves the neurological system) (1968b: 11). His choice of this circulatory component, which by definition filters through to and has an effect on every part of the body, reflects Papadopoulos’s perception of the importance of this group within the

254 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.2 – The Patient

ethnocommunity: the press is that which decides how the ethnocommunity will function, both positively and negatively. Thus, on the one hand, it constitutes ‘τον σκελετόν της προόδου, της ευηµερίας, της αναπτύξεως και της πολιτιστικής ανόδου του Έθνους µας’ (the skeleton of the progress, prosperity, development and the cultural advancement of our Nation) (1968a: 56); on the other, as will become evident in the following chapter, it continues to circulate its ‘poison’ through the body of the nation (1968a: 62). Through a somatic personification, the merchant marine is reminded of the crucial and irreplaceable role they play as a leg in sustaining the ethnocommunity—a notion that was reflected in the regime’s favourable financial incentives to this sector:2

Η Πατρίς µας έχει δύο πόδια: Το πόδι του πνεύµατος [...] και το πόδι του ελληνικού εµπορίου (1969b: 155).

Our Fatherland has two legs: The leg of the spirit […] and the leg of Greek trade.

Similarly, war veterans are reminded of the important role that an officer plays as the conveyor of this foundational ‘spirit’. Recalling that Papadopoulos continually reinforces the relevance of the Armed Forces’ contribution to the ethnocommunity, past, present and future, it is appropriate that he then presents an officer metaphorically as one of the nation’s vertebra:

[Ο αξιωµατικός] υπήρξε φορεύς ιδεών πνεύµατος, το οποίον συγκροτεί την έννοιαν του Έθνους, και ετοποθετήθη πάντοτε ως ένας σπόνδυλος αυτού του Έθνους (1970b: 44).

2 See Chapter 1, pp. 79 & 80.

255 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.2 – The Patient

[The officer] was the bearer of the ideas of a spirit, which forms the concept of the Nation and always was placed as a vertebra of this Nation.

Moreover, he reinforces, the skeleton has no hope of surviving without ‘τα βασικά στοιχεία ως σποδύλους’ (the fundamental elements as vertebrae) (2004: 88). The financial sector is represented metaphorically as the heart; that is, the ‘pump’ that keeps the ethnocommunity moving, growing and developing:

Είσθε η καρδία εις το κυκλοφοριακόν σύστηµα της κοινωνίας. Σεις κυκλοφορείτε το αίµα µε το οποίον τρέφεται ο κοινωνικός οργανισµός [...] το οποίον είναι απαραίτητον δια να αναπτυχθή και να επιβιώση η κοινωνία (1968b: 27).

You are the heart in the circulatory system of society. You circulate the blood with which the social body is nourished […] which is necessary for society to develop and survive.

MPs are assigned an equally important and symbolic organ of the body: the brain:

Όλοι ηµείς θα είµεθα ο εγκέφαλος, το όργανον, το οποίον προγραµµατίζει, σχεδιάζει, κατευθύνει και απογράφει την εκτέλεσιν των προγραµµάτων (1972: 132).

We all will be the brain, the organ that programmes, plans, guides and registers the execution of the programmes.

Once again, the choice of organ according to audience composition is revealing. To the people who represent the leadership, to his Revolution,

256 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.2 – The Patient

Papadopoulos assigns the part of the body that, using his very words, ‘programmes’ and ‘guides’ it; that is, organises, directs and dictates the movements and actions of the ethnocommunity. Importantly, it is also the organ that controls the function of all other parts of the body. Additionally, by using the inclusive ‘we’, he suggests that, in addition to their role as doctor/surgeon, he and his regime also represent a component of the group—the ‘controlling’, ‘organising’ centre of it. More than any other group, the agricultural and production sectors are consistently favoured as the skeleton or body of the ethnocommunity (1968b: 39, 113, 126) and its economy (1968b: 126) and it is to these sectors that Papadopoulos further elaborates on such somatic and biological analogies. In an extended somatic metaphor, Papadopoulos explains the importance of the skeleton as the frame of the whole group:

Υµείς είσθε ο σκελετός του ελληνικού κοινωνικού οργανισµού και εάν δεν υπάρχη σκελετός, δεν ηµπορεί να υπάρξη ούτε οργανισµός. Μη σπάσετε τον σκελετόν. ∆ιατηρήσατε την συνοχήν του εις όλας τας αρθρώσεις, εις όλας τας αρθρώσεις του οργανισµού που λέγεται παραγωγική µηχανή (1968b: 36).

You are the skeleton of the Greek social body and if there is no skeleton, there can be no body. Do not shatter the skeleton. Preserve cohesion in all its joints, all the joints of the body, which is called the production machine.

Additionally:

Είσθε ένα σύνολον: Ο σκελετός του Έθνους. Και τον σκελετόν αυτόν έχετε δικαίωµα και υποχρέωσιν να τον διατηρήσετε, να τον καταστήσετε συνεκτικόν και ισχυρόν, δια να βαστάση επάνω του και να οδηγήση εις

257 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.2 – The Patient

τον δρόµον προς το µέλλον τον καθόλου κοινωνικόν οργανισµόν του ελληνικού λαού (1968b: 36).

You are one: The skeleton of the Nation. And you have a right and an obligation to maintain this skeleton, to make it cohesive and strong, so that it can support and guide the entire social body of the Greek people on the road to the future.

Thus, the agricultural and production sectors come to metaphorically represent not simply an irreplaceable component of the ethnocommunity, such as a leg or a vertebra, but its very foundation, without whose support the ethnocommunity’s survival is not possible. Considering that it is also only to the agricultural sector that Papadopoulos additionally assigns the role of doctor, the perceived value of this sector becomes clear: without the agricultural sector, the ethnocommunity has no foundation and, consequently, no hope for the future. One might assume that Papadopoulos was motivated by a perception that it was in this sector that a support base for his regime could be found. Such a view is reaffirmed through another somatic personification of this sector, where, instead of a vertebra, the agricultural sector is represented as the entire spine:

Υπήρξεν πάντοτε η αγροτική τάξις η σπονδυλική στήλη και η συντηρητική µερίς του Ελληνικού λαού (1968b: 151).

The agricultural sector has always been the spine and the sustaining component of the Greek people.

Furthermore, Papadopoulos not only maintains that this has always been the case, but, again, stresses that this is a supportive role that must be maintained for the survival of the nation (ibid.).

258 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.2 – The Patient

The foundation role that is conferred upon the agricultural sector is reiterated through his representation of farmers as ‘the heart of Greece’ (1968b: 99). While, as was previously noted, Papadopoulos does represent the financial sector as the heart, he makes a distinction as to its function. The heart, as Papadopoulos explains, for man, has always been the ‘seat of love’ (1969a: 59). Thus, while Papadopoulos’s depiction of the financial sector as the heart is in its most literal sense as the economic ‘pump’ of the ethnocommunity, his representation of the agricultural sector as the heart is in both its literal and symbolic sense. The agricultural sector is, literally, the centre of the ethnocommunity, but, also, figuratively, it is the foundation, the root from where all values that are treasured within the ethnocommunity spring. In fact, in a speech to the Agricultural Association of Northern Greece—a speech that announced the abolition of agricultural debts—the same comprehensive combination of body and ‘soul’ is established:

∆εν είσθε οι αγράµµατοι χωριάτες. Είσθε το καθαρό µυαλό και η ψυχή του Έθνους (1968b: 93).

You are not the illiterate villagers. You are the clear mind and soul of the Nation.

Thus, as the ethnocommunity’s physical and symbolic centre, the agricultural sector is absolutely irreplaceable. Biological analogies are motivated by the same underlying characteristics that Papadopoulos wishes to attribute to specific groups within the ethnocommunity. Farmers are not only presented through somatic analogies as the ‘healthiest’ part of the body or skeleton (1968a: 93), but they are presented through biological analogies as the ‘healthiest’, ‘sturdiest’, ‘most basic’ cells (κύτταρα, kyttara) of society:

259 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.2 – The Patient

[Ο αγρότης, ως µέλος της κοινότητος,] αποτελεί το βασικόν και το ισχυρότερον κύτταρον, εκ του οποίου συγκροτείται η ελληνική κοινωνία (1968b: 121).

[The farmer, as a part of the community,] constitutes the fundamental and strongest cell, of which Greek society is composed.

Comparatively, just as Papadopoulos presents the education sector, students and the youth in specific somatic analogies that highlight their importance as the skeleton or body of the future, so too does he present these groups in biological analogies. Students are told that they represent ‘κύτταρα κατάλληλα και ικανά δια τας σηµερινάς και µελλοντικάς συνθήκας’ (cells that are appropriate and capable for today’s and tomorrow’s conditions) (1969a: 154). Educationalists are told that:

είναι το ήπαρ, το οποίον βοηθεί εις την παρασκευήν νέων αιµοσφαιρίων δια τον εθνικόν οργανισµόν (1970a: 10).

they are the liver, which helps in the production of new blood cells for the national body.

Literally, the correct functioning of the liver is essential to the body’s survival. Importantly, the liver is the only organ capable of regeneration and it is directly responsible for the production of future cells. Metaphorically, therefore, by presenting educationalists as the liver, Papadopoulos delineates their important role in the wellbeing of the ethnocommunity; especially, concerning the fostering of students and the youth (the future cells). As Papadopoulos asserts towards the end of this speech:

260 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.2 – The Patient

Η Ελλάς κρεµάται εις τα χέρια, τον εγκέφαλον και τα χείλη των εκπαιδευτικών της (ibid., p. 14).

Greece hangs on to the hands, head, and lips of its educationalists.

In the task of maintaining these future generations, these cells, women are also told of the significant role that they play:

[Από την Ελληνίδα] κυρίως εξαρτάται η διατήρησις της οικογενείας ως κυττάρου της κοινωνίας και η διά της ανατροφής «κοινωνικοποίησις» των επερχοµένων γενεών (1968a: 134).

The maintaining of the family as a cell of society and the ‘socialisation’ of future generations through rearing depends chiefly [on the Greek woman].

It is the Security Forces, however, who are given the exclusive task of distinguishing between ‘capable’ cells and ‘ill’ ones:

∆ι’ υµών πρέπει η Πολιτεία σήµερον να επισηµάνη τα πλέον υγιά, τα πλέον ρωµαλέα κύτταρα (1968a: 133).

Through you, the Polity today must pinpoint the most healthy, the most sturdy cells.

Indeed, as Papadopoulos stresses, the state is ‘obliged’ to use the Security Forces as diagnostic instruments (ibid.). In fact, it is to such sectors of the ethnocommunity—that is, those he deems its ‘protectors’—that Papadopoulos attempts to establish what are the ‘healthy’ and ‘unhealthy’ components of the body. When he addresses the Armed Forces, the introduction and elaboration of somatic analogies aims to present that

261 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.2 – The Patient

which is the inclusive definition of the body alongside that which is to be excluded from the definition:

Σήµερον έξω από το εθνικόν σώµα παραµένει µόνον εκείνος που έθεσε τον εαυτόν του έξω από το σώµα του Έθνους, αυτός που έγινεν όργανον του διεθνώς ωργανωµένου κοµµουνισµού (1969b: 69).

Today, only he who has placed himself outside the body of the Nation remains outside the national body, he who has become an instrument of international organised communism.

Similarly, in a speech celebrating the military prowess of the Greeks, he uses a somatic analogy to qualify who the ‘enemy’ actually is:

[Το Ελληνικόν Έθνος] αισθάνεται βαθυτάτην περιφρόνησιν προς τους ελαχίστους Γραικύλους, οι οποίοι έχουν µέχρι τοιούτου βαθµού αποσχισθή εκ του κορµού του Έθνους (1972: 114).

[The Greek Nation] feels a deep contempt towards those very few Greeklings, who, to such a degree, have broken away from the body of the Nation.

Interestingly, the Revolution is also presented as another component of the body. Papadopoulos insists that rather than viewing the state—in this instance, his regime—as a ‘foreign organism’ (1968b: 125), it should be seen as the ‘σάρξ εκ της σαρκός µας’ (the flesh of our flesh) (1970b: 121).3 It suggests that, in addition to taking the primary role by representing himself and the regime as the doctor assigned to the patient, Papadopoulos again makes a point of presenting the regime as an essential component of the patient. As has already been argued, he establishes the

3 See Chapter 2.2 for an examination of the term state (κράτος, kratos) and its use as a synonym of both the ethnocommunity and the leadership.

262 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.2 – The Patient

regime as part of the brain that guides the ethnocommunity. In this example, he presents the regime as the body’s very flesh; the component that binds the body and holds the skeleton together. Furthermore, this particular expression is distinctly biblical. According to Genesis 2:23, when God created woman from man, man said of her, ‘This is now bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh’. Thus, Papadopoulos presents himself and his regime (with the pronoun ‘our’) in a similar way to how he presents the agricultural sector: somatically and spiritually indispensable to the ethnocommunity’s wellbeing. Essentially, through somatic and biological analogies, Papadopoulos attempts to show how fundamental each sector is to the survival of the ethnocommunity as a whole. Importantly, each component of the ethnocommunity has a different and essential role to play. He presents the merchant marine as a leg, officers as a vertebra, the financial sector as the heart that pumps the fuel of the ethnocommunity, the press as the neurological system and MPs as the brain. Students and the youth are presented as the future skeleton or body, the future cells of the ethnocommunity, educationalists as the liver that produces these cells, and women as the ones who foster them. The agricultural and production sectors are presented as the centre, as the foundation of the body: its heart, its spine and its ‘healthiest’ and ‘strongest’ cells. Importantly, he presents his own regime as the brain that guides the body and the flesh that binds all of the body’s components together. Each component of the physical constitution is essential; each has its own role to play in sustaining the wellbeing of the patient. Importantly, each comes with its own specific set of medically related illnesses— illnesses, which the doctor must ‘diagnose’. These shall now be examined.

263 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.3 – ‘Diagnosing’ the Illness

Chapter 3.3 – ‘Diagnosing’ the Illness

Κύριοι, νοσούµεν. Νοσούµεν ως κοινωνία. Νοσούµεν ως λαός και κινδυνεύοµεν να αποθάνωµεν ως έθνος (1968b: 19).

Gentlemen, we are sick. We are sick as a society. We are sick as a people and we are in danger of dying as a nation.

This chapter will examine how Papadopoulos uses medical and biological analogies to define the ‘negative’ recent past and show how this recent past continues to affect the present ethnocommunity; that is, he ‘diagnoses’ the illness that continues to affect the patient. Papadopoulos does this in two ways. Firstly, he refers to an overall non-specific illness that afflicts the physical constitution of the patient.1 Secondly, he refers to more specific illnesses of the patient, such as, bacteria, a virus, an infection; a cancerous tumour or ‘cancerous’ cells; ‘clogged arteries’; or a ‘festering’ abscess. Importantly, as will be examined, the particular form of the illness is specific to audience composition, and in this way, it allows for some clear conclusions to be drawn about Papadopoulos’s rhetorical tendencies across sectors. Firstly, he speaks generally to diverse audiences about an overall non-specific illness that affects the entire physical constitution of the patient. This illness is exemplified in the opening quotation of this chapter, which was delivered to lawyers in mid-March 1968. He uses the metaphor again in a speech to the banking sector on the same day:

Κύριοι, ο οργανισµός µας ως λαού, ως κοινωνίας, ως έθνους, νοσεί βαρύτατα (1968b: 25).

1 See Chapter 3.2, fn. 1.

264 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.3 – ‘Diagnosing’ the Illness

Gentlemen, our physical constitution, as a people, as a society, as a nation, is gravely ill.

In both these speeches, the overwhelming domination that the illness has over the physical constitution of the patient is underlined by the tautological extension of the terms used to describe the ethnocommunity; that is, people, society and nation.2 By depicting a state whose entirety is problematic, rather than attributing problems to one specific sector, Papadopoulos suggests an environment whose members are united in their shared illness and, therefore, have no choice but to unite in, first of all, recognising its severity and, subsequently, combating it. Moreover, as he emphasises to the legal sector in the same speech mentioned above, if the ‘reality of the illness’ is faced by the entire ethnocommunity, then Greece’s situation will not be as dire:

Αν µου επέτρεπεν η εθνική αξιοπρέπεια να εκθέσω δηµόσια τα συµπεράσµατά µου επί της πραγµατικότητος της νόσου, σας βεβαίω ότι θα ηγόµεθα όλοι εις τοιαύτην απελπισίαν, ώστε θα µας απέλιπεν πάσα ελπίς να ανεύρωµεν την δύναµιν, δια να θεραπεύσωµεν την Ελλάδα. Όχι όµως. Η Ελλάς δεν πρέπει να πεθάνη και δεν θα πεθάνη, διότι θα το θελήσετε σεις (ibid., p. 22).

If national dignity allowed me to express in public my conclusions as to the reality of the illness, I assure you that we would fall into such a state of despair that we would have lost all hope of finding the strength to restore Greece to health. But no. Greece must not die and it will not die because you will not want it to.

Equally, however, he emphasises, this time to the health sector, that addressing the ‘reality’ of the illness successfully also means having the

2 For an examination of the particular terms Papadopoulos uses to represent the ethnocommunity, see Chapter 2.2.

265 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.3 – ‘Diagnosing’ the Illness

guidance of the members of the regime; that is, the self-proclaimed doctors:

Όπως δεν δυνάµεθα να ζήσωµεν, εάν δεν αντιµετωπίσωµεν την απειλήν της ασθενείας όταν εκδηλωθή, έτσι και ως λαός δεν δυνάµεθα να ζήσωµεν, εάν πάσχοντες από κοινωνικήν ασθένειαν δεν την αντιµετωπίσωµεν. Και θα την αντιµετωπίσωµεν πάλιν δια των ιατρών (1969b: 165).

Just as we cannot live if we do not address the threat of the illness when it is displayed, so too can we not live as a people if, suffering from social illness, we do not address it. And we will face it again through the doctors.

The metaphor of a non-specific illness is also used to represent specific sectors within or systems of the ethnocommunity. Concerning the former, in the early address to the Security Forces, he uses a simile to parallel the metaphoric ‘sick’ physical constitution of the patient to the ‘sick’ public sector inherited by the present ethnocommunity (1968a: 133). As has already been noted, the public sector represented a key problematic area towards which Papadopoulos dedicated much of his political discourse. There are two things that are relevant about the parallel he draws here. Firstly, just as the importance of a healthy physical constitution is essential to the wellbeing of the patient, so too, he claims, is a healthy public sector essential for the wellbeing of the wider ethnocommunity. Secondly, Papadopoulos emphasises that the ‘ailing’ public sector was one that was inherited from the ‘negative’ recent past and not one created or made worse by his regime.3 In fact, as doctors, he and his regime are there to guide the recovery process of the public sector rather than foster the illness within it, as previous governments did.

3 For an interesting examination of the impact the 7-year dictatorship had on the public sector, see: Danopoulos (1988).

266 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.3 – ‘Diagnosing’ the Illness

Concerning the latter—a non-specific illness representing a specific system—in an address to the nation and the press regarding Greece’s withdrawal from the Council of Europe, he warns those who condemn Greece to turn their gaze towards the illness of their own democracy, rather than concern themselves with Greece’s allegedly failing one (1970b: 67). This is relevant in that it was at this time that the regime was under especially intense pressure to prove to the international community that it was indeed ‘democratic’; therefore, it seems appropriate that he would attempt to divert attention away from Greece, whose democracy was allegedly ‘unhealthy’, and towards other nations, whose democracy was clearly ‘unhealthy’. While Papadopoulos presents the illness in general terms as a non- specific problem affecting the entire ethnocommunity, its sectors or its democratic system, he is more inclined to present it in specific forms according to audience composition and chronology. In the same speech to the financial sector examined above, he elaborates on how the problems of the ‘negative’ recent past have ‘clogged’ the arteries of the patient’s physical constitution (1968b: 27). Since, as noted in the previous chapter, the financial sector was classified as the heart of the patient, it is logical that he should expand on this analogy to describe how its actions (or inaction) in the recent past have stagnated the movements of the economy; that is, the economy has been unable to ‘flow’ effectively through the ethnocommunity because its avenues have been congested by the weaknesses of past governments. Thus, he is able to implore the financial sector to ‘react’ and ‘use’ any means available to render the heart viable once more.

Αντιδράσατε εις την αρτηριοσκλήρωσιν. Μελετήσατε και χρησιµοποιήσατε κάθε φάρµακο, το οποίον θα έδιδε τον ταχύτερο και αποτελεσµατικώτερον ρυθµόν εις την κυκλοφορίαν αυτού του βασικού µέσου (ibid.).

267 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.3 – ‘Diagnosing’ the Illness

React to the hardening of the arteries. Study and use any medicine, which would give the fastest and most effective rate to the circulation of this essential medium.

Similarly, Papadopoulos expands on a pre-existing representation of the press as the circulatory or nervous systems of the ethnocommunity.4 In one of its earlier addresses, he tells the press that its ‘opium’ acts like a ‘poison’ that has, by and large, rendered the ethnocommunity incapable of reacting to this drug (1968a: 62). By expanding on this pre-existing analogy, he is able to emphasise just how influential the press is: as it impacts on every facet of the society, the ‘lies’ (the opium) that it manufactures can easily be spread through the ethnocommunity to ‘poison’ it against the regime—or, at the very least, to create a hallucinogenic environment, claiming that this environment is, in fact, the ‘reality’ of the regime. In a later address to his ministers, he also speaks about a ‘poison’:

Οι πάντες, συνειθισµένοι εκ της περιόδου της συναλλαγής εις την τεθλασµένην οδόν των ενδιαµέσων, δυσκόλως αποτοξινούνται από την τοιαύτην δηλητηρίασιν (1972: 55).

Everyone who, since the period of venality, is accustomed to the crooked road of intermediaries has difficulty in detoxing from this poison.

This address was given in January 1971, at a time where dissension within his own rank and file was becoming more obvious—in fact, six months later, Papadopoulos would announce a new cabinet reducing the 18 ministries of his government to 13 (McDonald 1972: 232) and

4 See Chapter 3.2.

268 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.3 – ‘Diagnosing’ the Illness

dispensing with many of the original members of the regime (Danopoulos 1980: 193; McNeill 1978: 129). In this context, Papadopoulos’s use of the metaphor of a poison with his ministers might be seen perhaps as a warning: they will have difficulty in continuing in prominent positions within his cabinet if they continue relying on such ‘negative’ attributes that flourished in the recent past. Papadopoulos alters the nature of the illness metaphor where appropriate to various other audiences. For example, in one of his very first public addresses, he tells veterans and invalids of war that the illness is the bacteria of ‘venality’ (1968a: 37, 38). He presents these bacteria to scientists, also during the first phase, where he stresses that the objective is to create an environment that is ‘socially’ healthy and can fight against these bacteria (1968b: 107). While no clear reasons are obvious as to his choice of this particular medical metaphor with these two audiences, the converse is true when he uses this image in an address to the press during the earlier part of the second phase:

Μικρόβια γρίππης ηµπορεί να υπάρχουν εδώ πολλά, αλλά δεν φαντάζοµαι να πάθη κανείς γρίππη βγαίνοντας έξω, εκτός εάν κανείς µόλις εσηκώθηκε από το κρεβάτι και τρέµη µήπως ιδρώση. Εάν το κοινωνικόν κλίµα είναι υγιές, το οιονδήποτε αριθµητικώς ισχυρόν κοµµουνιστικόν κόµµα δεν κατορθώνη να αναπτυχθή (1969b: 125).

There may be a lot of flu bacteria here, but I cannot imagine anyone getting the flu by going outside, except if someone has just gotten out of bed and is terrified of sweating. If the social climate is healthy, then no communist party, however strong it may be numerically, is able to develop.

In this particular example, he refers to the bacteria of ‘communism’. By presenting communism as bacteria within the body of the patient, the

269 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.3 – ‘Diagnosing’ the Illness

illness of communism becomes dependent solely on the environment in which it is fostered. Thus, metaphorically, if the body is healthy, bacteria cannot multiply. Literally, if the present ethnocommunity is socially fit, communism cannot spread and, therefore, will no longer pose a problem. The introduction of the ‘bacteria of communism’ to this particular audience at this time is relevant when the findings of the repetition of the term communism, previously examined in Chapter 2.3.2, are also considered. It will be recalled that in this particular speech, communism was repeated 15 times the mean of this phase and, in this sense, mimics the state of a bacterial infection; that is, it appears frequently and consistently over many pages.5 The same parallels motivate Papadopoulos’s representation of communism as an infection in a later address to the nation and the press:

Το µίασµα του κοµµουνισµού [...] φαίνεται ότι έχει παύσει πλέον να αποτελή κίνδυνον δια τον ελεύθερον κόσµον (1970b: 67).

The infection of communism […] appears to have ceased to constitute a danger for the free world.

In fact, in an earlier address to the press, he points out that this illness of communism would have been worse had his regime not come to power when it had and, specifically, had George Papandreou’s political party (EK) been victorious in the planned May elections (1968a: 13). Yet, even though he argues that the present ethnocommunity may be experiencing an ebbing of the illness/infection of communism because of his regime, he warns that it must be prepared to face a and, by implication, a new infection:

5 See Chapter 2.3.2, p. 169 fn. 3.

270 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.3 – ‘Diagnosing’ the Illness

την ανατρεπτικήν, την αναρχίαν, την αναρχίαν που δηµιουργεί η µεταφορά του κοινωνικού ατόµου εις την µορφήν του απολύτως ελευθέρου ατόµου (1970b: 67).

the subversive one, anarchy, anarchy that the transformation of a social individual into a completely free individual creates.

Thus, while the infection may change from representing ‘communism’ to representing ‘anarchy’, the nature of the infection remains, as does the potential danger it poses for the ethnocommunity. Significantly, this address above also concerned Greece’s withdrawal from the Council of Europe. Thus, through this notion of an overwhelming, almost uncontrollable danger that the metaphor of an infection invites, Papadopoulos aims at justifying why, despite objections from a prominent international body, the regime still needed to remain. The regime, according to Papadopoulos, was the only body that could understand the true nature of the infection and, therefore, the only one that could ‘prescribe’ the infection’s most direct and effective treatment. In a speech celebrating the first anniversary of his regime, Papadopoulos progresses from describing the ‘state mechanism’ as ‘sick’ to describing it with the adjective ‘parasitic’ (παρασιτικός, parasitikos). Like bacteria or an infection, a ‘parasite’ is reliant on its environment to survive. It is fostered by another organism off which it feeds. The physical constitution of the patient, therefore, is what dictates the life of any affliction; if the body is healthy and capable, the parasite will be noticed and removed. Literally, the failing state mechanism of the past will be overturned only if the present ethnocommunity is capable. The presentation of a parasite or bacteria is not specific to Papadopoulos. For example, the Italian Filippo Marinetti, one of the founders of Futurism and an earlier ideologue of Mussolini’s Fascist Party, described communism as the ‘outgrowth of bureaucratic cancer which

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gnaws away at mankind’.6 Adolf Hitler often referred to the metaphoric ‘microbes’ and ‘disease’ within society in his political writings (Chilton 2004: 54). Similarly, George F. Kennan, a protagonist in American foreign policy following WW2, and instrumental to the development of the Marshall Plan and the Truman Doctrine, paralleled communism to a ‘malignant parasite which feeds only on diseased tissue’.7 Papadopoulos’s use of this metaphor of infection is parodied wonderfully by the Greek author Vasilikos in the opening paragraphs of his novel, Z (1987: 131-4). Amalgamating medical and agricultural analogies, the General in Vasilikos’s novel delivers a speech about the ‘various parasitic bacteria’ that create the ‘mildew’ that, in turn, afflicts the ‘vine’. The General, speaking of communism, i.e., the ‘ideological mildew’ (ibid. p. 133)—in fact, creating the neologism ‘communist-seed’ (κοµµουνόσπορος, kommounosporos) from the Greek word for ‘mildew’ (περονόσπορος, peronosporos) (ibid. p. 134)—elaborates on the dangers of this illness and outlines the necessary steps his government will take to ‘treat’ it. Here too, in this parody, the bacteria are external elements that afflict the present environment—‘illness from eastern countries’ (ibid. p. 132)—and can only be fought successfully if they are replaced with ‘healthy’ components; that is, if the bacteria are eradicated from the roots of the ‘holy tree of Greek freedom’ (ibid. p. 134). The theme of ‘unhealthy’ components which affect ‘healthy’ ones within the ethnocommunity is one on which Papadopoulos elaborates extensively in two earlier addresses to the Security Forces. Here, Papadopoulos warns of the importance of correctly ‘diagnosing’ the ‘unhealthy’ components, stressing that this is ‘an enterprise of exceptional importance’ (1968a: 133). As was discussed in Chapter 1, the Security Forces had long since been established as the long arm of various

6 Quoted in Rindler Schjerve (1989: 65). 7 Quoted in Yannas (1994: 119).

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governments post-WW2 and the regime depended on them significantly to infiltrate and monitor citizens or groups that were deemed ‘anti-national’. It is meaningful, therefore, that Papadopoulos enlists the Security Forces as ‘medical instruments’ used in the ‘diagnosis’ of the illness:

Τα όργανα, τα οποία είναι υποχρεωµένον το Κράτος να χρησιµοποιήση δια την διάγνωσιν της ασθενείας, αλλά και της επισηµάνσεως των πλέον ικανών κυττάρων του, ικανών να προωθηθώσιν εις τους κρίσιµους κόµβους της κοινωνικής οργανώσεως, ίνα προέλθη εξ αυτής της αναδιοργανώσεως ένας υγιής οργανισµός, ικανός να πραγµατώση τας προσδοκίας του λαού µας και του Έθνους, είσθε υµείς (ibid.).

The instruments, which the State is obliged to use to diagnose the illness, and also to pinpoint its most capable cells—capable of being promoted to the key points in the social organisation so that from this reorganisation, there may emerge a healthy human organism capable of realising the expectations of our people and our Nation—are you.

Metaphorically, the Security Forces become an extensive pool of ‘medical equipment’, which the doctor can utilise and on which he can call at his own discretion. Literally, the Security Forces can be and are used by Papadopoulos and his regime to better ascertain what they deem to be the problematic components of the ethnocommunity and deal with these accordingly. Through the use of this particular metaphor, therefore, the Security Forces are presented as fundamental to the ethnocommunity’s ultimate wellbeing. Their role is clearly delineated: they are the ‘instruments’ that will be used by Papadopoulos and his regime (the ‘State’) in the diagnosis of the patient’s illness—a point that he repeats in the second address to this audience:

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Σας έχει ανατεθή υπό της Πολιτείας και η αποστολή της επισηµάνσεως των ασθενών κυττάρων της κοινωνίας (ibid., p. 142).

The Polity has also ascribed you the mission of pinpointing the sick cells of society.

Papadopoulos references to the ‘healthy’ and ‘unhealthy’ components of society appear in speeches to other audiences as well. For example, in a speech made in late May 1969, he tells students in Thessaloniki that citizens who do not work become ‘cancerous’ for society (1970a: 123). He extends this metaphor a few months later, to the Ministry of Justice, stressing that it is important not to jump to the conclusion that all ‘weak or ailing cells’ have to be ‘diagnosed’ straight away as ‘cancerous’ and consequently be purged.8 Instead, ‘Justice’, as ‘a doctor of society’, must assess the degree of ‘anti-social behaviour of individuals’ before:

χρειασθή να τα αποµονώση τελεσιδίκως από τα υπόλοιπα κύτταρά της (1970a: 179).

it is necessary finally to isolate them from the rest of its cells.

It is relevant that a discussion of ‘cancerous’ cells re-emerged at this time; that is, a few months after reports to the European Commission on Human Rights began to publish material on brutal interrogation and imprisonment conditions under the dictatorship. Thus, Papadopoulos’s use of the ‘cancerous cells’ analogy here is an attempt to justify, as necessary, this extreme action taken by his regime against particular citizens within the ethnocommunity. A metaphor of ‘cancer’ evokes an

8 It should be noted that the analogy of ‘cancer’ afflicting the body was also used by Andreas Papandreou in an address at Princeton University in December 1968. Here, however, the ‘cancer’ he refers to was the ‘fascism’ being spread by Papadopoulos’s regime (Schwabb & Frangos 1973: 55).

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image of an organism, which, if not stopped, will infect the entire body and lead to the patient’s death. Thus, by drawing a parallel between ‘cancerous’ cells and problem citizens, the latter comes to signify the former; that is, if problem citizens are not stopped, then the ethnocommunity will be overcome and be unable to continue into the future. The audiences to which he directs this image are also relevant to understanding Papadopoulos’s use of the analogy. Firstly, in addressing the student body, he used the ‘cancer’ analogy as a warning to this increasingly hostile group; that is, if citizens are deemed ‘cancerous’ then, they can and will be removed and treated accordingly. Secondly, in addressing the Ministry of Justice—the junta-nominated body in charge of interpreting and enacting the law—Papadopoulos uses the ‘cancerous cells’ analogy to validate this ministry’s participation and its actions within the ethnocommunity. The Ministry can use any disposable means (junta- delineated laws) to curb the activity of citizens deemed problematic (‘cancerous’), otherwise, these very citizens may influence the rest of the ethnocommunity (the patient). Similarly, Papadopoulos speaks of a tumour or abscess adversely affecting the physical constitution of the patient, stressing that his government’s need to control and eliminate such ‘rotten’ elements of Greece is its primary task; ‘the a and the b’ of its endeavour, as he puts it (1968b: 12). Moreover, the imagery used to explain the importance of the attempt can be quite extreme, as is evident from the following example to the press:

Το µαχαίρι θα κόψη οπωσδήποτε το σάπιο, έστω και αν πονέση ο ασθενής, έστω και αν πονέση ο χειρουργός (ibid.).

The knife will certainly cut off the rotten [part], even if the patient hurts, even if the surgeon hurts.

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One might suggest that this strong imagery was used in order to provide this sector with a warning that the regime will stop at nothing to remove the problematic elements of the ethnocommunity (those who attempt to challenge dictatorial policy), no matter the risk to that ethnocommunity. Moreover, he concedes that the regime’s determination to use any means necessary might also be ‘painful’ for it—prophetically, an outcome that would become evident the following year once the Council of Europe proceedings highlighting the regime’s undemocratic practices were well under way. In another address, this time to the public sector, the ‘rotten element’ assumes a more delineated form:

Έχοµεν φθάσει εις ένα ανατρεπτικόν της ισορροπίας καρκίνωµα του κρατικού οργανισµού (ibid., p. 44).

We have arrived at a cancerous tumour destroying the balance of the state organism.

As was previously noted, the public sector is presented as an illness and a ‘parasitic’ growth. Here, it assumes another simplistically visual form: a ‘cancerous’ tumour; an ailment that can be easily seen, easily diagnosed and, potentially, easily treated by removing it from the rest of the body. The reason for the tumour and its growth is explained in the opening paragraphs of an address to the citizens of Thessaloniki on the anniversary of Ochi Day (28 October):

Η ευθύνη βαρύνει όλους µας, διότι δεν επιάσαµε το νυστέρι να καθαρίσωµεν τα αποστήµατα (1969a: 105).

276 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.3 – ‘Diagnosing’ the Illness

The onus lies heavily with all of us, because we did not take the scalpel to drain the abscesses.

In this example, he refers to the inability of Greek governments and society in the recent past to address weaknesses; that is, that multiple abscesses—noting his use of the plural noun—have festered. Additionally, he emphasises that the responsibility for this continued problem in the present falls on both his regime and the ethnocommunity; that is, collectively, they are now obliged to fix the problem that they have fostered by not ‘taking the scalpel’ and ‘draining’ these abscesses in the recent past. The metaphor of the scalpel is not only representative of a ‘surgical instrument’, but of a ‘weapon’; importantly, a ‘weapon’ that originated from the Left. For example, when challenged in his very first address, Papadopoulos is prompted to reply to a journalist who asks him to qualify what the regime means by ‘amputation’ (ακρωτηριασµός); does it, in fact, mean ‘amputation’ of the Left? In his response, Papadopoulos implies that it is the communists and not his government who hold surgical knives and axes:

∆εν κρατούµεν χειρουργικά µαχαίρια, αλλ’ ούτε και τσεκούρια. Άλλοι χρησιµοποιούν τσεκούρια (1968a: 15).

We are not holding surgical knives or axes. Other people use axes.

He ends his reply by assuring his audience that the regime does not, in fact, wish to remove (‘amputate’) anyone from the metaphorical body; however, he also uses the opportunity to warn that the regime will not allow anyone to remove (‘amputate’) him (ibid.).

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Papadopoulos continues to use the metaphor of the scalpel as a means of describing the inherent violence of the enemies of the regime. In another press address during the first phase of the dictatorship, he justifies the necessarily pre-emptive action that his regime took in arresting particular citizens, by suggesting that otherwise:

υπήρχε πιθανότης να κινηθούν, να κόψη κανένα το νυστέρι και να χυθή αίµα (ibid., p. 85).

there was a possibility that they would act; the scalpel would cut someone and blood would be spilled.

According to Papadopoulos, the regime also uses the scalpel; however, in stark contrast to its purported violent use among its enemies, the scalpel is used in a ‘just’ and precise way by the regime. In the closing paragraphs of the national address following the King’s attempted counter- coup in December 1967, Papadopoulos assures the press those who participated in the abortive counter-coup were sent into exile, rather than jailed:

δια να µη κόψωµεν λοιπόν µε το νυστέρι και κανέναν αδίκως (1968b: 17).

so that we do not cut anyone unjustly with the scalpel.

In fact, at the end of a later address to the nation and the press two weeks prior to the Referendum on the new 1968 Constitution, Papadopoulos defines the scalpel that his regime uses as a ‘επαναστατική µαχαίρα’ (revolutionary butcher’s knife) (1969a: 70). Papadopoulos uses this image to describe the ‘magnitude’ of the task that the regime must undertake in

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its reorganisation of the ‘state mechanism’, education, social welfare and the economy; that is, a ‘butcher’s knife’ is needed. Moreover, he suggests that the ‘knife’ needed is necessarily ‘revolutionary’; that is, it is imbued with the qualities of sacrifice, honour and selfless determination for the greater good of the ethnocommunity—notions of which, Papadopoulos proposes, he and his regime have an unrivalled understanding. In summation, Papadopoulos employs various medical and biological analogies to aid in his description of a ‘negative’ recent past that adversely affected the present: a bacteria or poison affecting the circulatory system; ‘clogged’ arteries; ‘unhealthy’ or ‘cancerous’ cells; abscesses that need to be ‘drained’; or a cancerous tumour that must be removed. Additionally, he tends towards different representations according to audience: infections of the circulatory system are dominant in addresses to the press, as is the notion of ‘draining’ the abscesses. ‘Clogged arteries’ is an image used to describe the financial stagnation of the nation and a ‘parasite’ or cancerous tumour is presented as having grown within the public sector. The pinpointing of ‘cancerous’ or ‘unhealthy’ cells is an analogy that is developed with students, the Ministry of Justice and, predominantly, the Security Forces, who are additionally reminded of the importance of their participation in this task as the ‘medical instruments’ that the regime will employ. Importantly, by claiming the characteristic of diagnostician, Papadopoulos also manoeuvres the regime into a position where it can prescribe any treatment deemed necessary for the patient’s recuperation. Simply, if the doctor understands the illness, then he remains the one most qualified to ‘prescribe’ the appropriate treatment for the patient—a treatment, that shall now be examined more closely.

279 Emmanuela Mikedakis Chapter 3.4 – ‘Prescribing’ the Treatment

Chapter 3.4 – ‘Prescribing’ the Treatment

Μη ξεχνάτε όµως, κύριοι, ότι ευρισκόµεθα προ ενός ασθενούς, τον οποίον έχοµεν επί της χειρουργικής κλίνης, και τον οποίον εάν ο χειρουργός δεν προσδέση κατά την διάρκειαν της εγχειρήσεως [και] της ναρκώσεως επί της χειρουργικής κλίνης, υπάρχει πιθανότης αντί δια της εγχειρήσεως να του χαρίση την αποκατάστασιν της υγείας, να τον οδηγήση εις τον θάνατον (1968a: 11).

Do not forget though, gentlemen, that we find ourselves before a patient, whom we have on an operating table, and for whom, if the surgeon does not strap him to the bed during the duration of the surgery [and] the anaesthesia, there is a chance that instead of the surgery leading to the recovery of his health, it may lead to his death.

This chapter will discuss how Papadopoulos uses medical and surgical metaphors to describe how the present regime, under his guidance, proposes to facilitate a ‘healthy’ future ethnocommunity; that is, how the doctor proposes to ‘treat’ the patient. In Papadopoulos’s speeches, this treatment reflects the various illnesses that were examined in the previous chapter and, therefore, varies according to audience and chronology. The underlying outcome of all proposed treatments, however, is the same: to eliminate the problematic elements of society inherited from the ‘negative’ recent past and to renew the foundations of the present ethnocommunity for an ‘ideal’ future. Papadopoulos speaks generally to diverse audiences about what needs to be healed or treated by his regime. He speaks about the need to heal ‘weaknesses of the past’ (1969a: 68; 1969b: 183; 1970a: 177; 1970b: 19-20, 75); particularly its ‘corrupt devilish mentality’ (1968a: 136), its ‘familocracy’ (1968b: 168), its ‘terrible party venality’ (1969a: 69), and its

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‘unacceptable [and] weak institutional situation’ (1969b: 183).1 The aim, as he tells the education sector, is:

να θεραπεύσωµεν τας αδυναµίας που παρελάβοµεν και να µη προσθέσωµεν εις αυτάς νέας (1969b: 116).

to heal the weaknesses which we inherited and not to add new ones to these.

In fact, he suggests to lawyers that:

[το παρελθόν] να χρησιµοποιηθή ως οδηγός δια να θεραπεύσωµεν την ασθένειαν δια το µέλλον (1968b: 19).

[the past] should be used as a guide to heal the illness for the future.

Simply, Papadopoulos says, this task is a matter of life or death for the ethnocommunity; if these ‘weaknesses’ are not healed, the nation will not be successful in the future (1970b: 75; 1972: 170-1) and will certainly die (1970a: 145). This treatment or ‘healing’ of the ethnocommunity is something towards which the regime continues to work (1970a: 134; 1972: 124)— even though, as he asserts to the agricultural sector, his government has already ‘intercepted’ and ‘is treating’ such illnesses (1968b: 91). Importantly, however, the successful treatment of the patient is an obligation of the entire ethnocommunity (1968b: 13, 20, 60, 147; 1969a: 69; 1969b: 186; 1972: 124, 133) and thus, the illnesses of the past will only be healed by working together (1968a: 74; 1969b: 183). To this end,

1 The various ‘weaknesses’ of the ‘negative’ recent past were discussed at length in Chapter 2.3.1. On the use of neologisms, such as ‘familocracy’, see pp. 157-63.

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Papadopoulos employs the analogy of the patient’s relatives (συγγενείς, singeneis):

[Ο οργανισµός µας] νοσεί τόσον, ώστε ως ιατρός έχω την συγκίνησιν την οποίαν θα είχεν ιατρός ευρισκόµενος προ της χειρουργικής τραπέζης του ασθενούς και απευθυνόµενος προς τους συγγενείς του, δια να ζητήση την συµπαράστασίν των. (1968b: 25).

[Our physical constitution] is so sick, that as a doctor I am moved in the same way that a doctor would be at the patient’s operating table, in addressing his relatives in order to ask for their support.

Through this analogy, Papadopoulos’s underlying principle of unification is manifest: the patient’s recovery depends on the care and support of all his relatives. The importance of the collective in the patient’s rehabilitation also becomes prominent in a speech Papadopoulos gives on the reorganisation of the public sector:

Είναι ανάγκη ζωής και όπως ο συγγενής, προ του ασθενούς συγγενούς του, τρέχει σαν τρελλός δια να ανεύρη το ανοικτόν φαρµακείον που διηµερεύει και να προµηθευθή το φάρµακον που επιτάσσει ο ιατρός δια την θεραπείαν του ασθενούς, πρέπει να σπεύσωµεν και ηµείς όχι προς το ανοικτόν φαρµακείον, αλλά προς την ανοικτήν ελληνικήν καρδίαν µας, διότι πρόκειται περί της σωτηρίας της Ελλάδος (ibid., p. 45).

It is a matter of life and death, and like the relative facing his sick relative who runs around like crazy in order to find the open pharmacy in order to obtain the medicine that the doctor prescribed for the sick patient’s recovery, we also have to rush not towards the open pharmacy, but towards our open Greek hearts, because it is for the salvation of Greece.

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Once again, metaphorically, Papadopoulos stresses that the recovery of the patient is something to which every member of the ethnocommunity must contribute for the ‘salvation of Greece’; literally, a healthy public sector. Additionally, this example emphasises the equally essential role of the doctor in the patient’s recovery: it is the doctor who ‘prescribes’ the medicine that will make the patient well; therefore, an implicit trust must be assumed in the doctor’s ability to ‘diagnose’ appropriately. References to medicine most often appear in order to highlight the fundamental importance of the regime in the patient’s recovery. For example, a journalist asks whether or not the political system that now exists in Greece—one that the journalist points out, perhaps sarcastically, the regime deems ‘corresponds to the ideals and wants of the Greek people’ (1970b: 31)—could be used by other countries in Europe. In his reply, Papadopoulos uses this metaphor to single out the present circumstances in Greece, under his regime, by claiming that they are unique:

Τα δύσκολα εις τον χειρισµόν φάρµακα δεν τα συνιστά κανείς εις ασθενείς, δια τους οποίους δεν είναι βέβαιος ότι ηµπορούν να τα χρησιµοποιήσουν κατά την συνταγήν. ∆υστυχώς δι’ ηµάς, δεν έχοµεν την ευχέρειαν να αναλάβωµεν επί τόπου την θεραπείαν, εάν τούτο απητείτο (ibid.).

Medicines that are difficult to administer are not recommended for patients when one is unsure if they can use them properly according to their prescription. Unfortunately for us, we do not have the facility to undertake home-therapy, if this was what was required.

In this quotation, Papadopoulos implies that the system of government under his leadership is potentially good for other nations as well. He continues by suggesting, however, that because other nations do not possess the ability to follow this system accurately, and because members

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of his Revolution cannot be present as instructors of this system in other nations, his system of government cannot be applied effectively. Such implications, of course, aim at extolling both the unique qualities of the regime’s work and its status, in both the national and international arenas. Thus, regardless of the individual requirements of each treatment that Papadopoulos proposes, and which will now be analysed at length, two additional factors are always emphasised as fundamental: his regime, as doctor and diagnostician; and the entire ethnocommunity, the patient and his relatives, who trust in and support the doctor’s decisions. Treatments that Papadopoulos proposes tend to be specific and correlate directly to the individual illnesses that were examined in the previous chapter. His proposed treatments fall into two categories. The first category is an extreme treatment where the ‘bad’ component, the illness, is definitively removed and discarded. The analogies of surgery, the ‘removal’ of an abscess or tumour, and the ‘purging’ of ‘cancerous’ cells all fall into this category. The second type of treatment is not as absolute; it proposes that the ‘bad’ elements be rehabilitated or replaced with ‘healthy’ components. Into this category fall the analogies of the plaster cast, the ‘renewal’ of cells and the ultimate treatment: the rebirth of the patient’s organism. One of Papadopoulos’s most frequently proposed treatments, and certainly one for which he is most remembered, is that of surgery. This analogy dominates during the first phase of the dictatorship and largely in addresses to the press. He uses it in an attempt to justify the incarceration of political prisoners or the continued need for censorship. The appeal of metaphors of surgery is twofold. Firstly, as Fairclough (1989: 120) notes, a negotiation period does not exist with severe medical problems such as tumours, abscesses or cancer; therefore, one cannot discuss a settlement, nor can the severity of the proposed treatment be questioned. A surgical intervention remains the only solution if one wishes

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the patient to survive. Secondly, the treatment is quick, definitive and precise: the problematic element is identified, isolated and then removed from the unproblematic whole. The dual appeal of this analogy is exploited by Papadopoulos. The analogy of surgery is introduced in Papadopoulos’s first official speech, to the Greek and foreign press. In this speech, which was given in the introduction to this chapter, Papadopoulos states that not only is the surgery necessary for the patient’s survival, but the patient must additionally be ‘restrained’ on the ‘operating table’. The ‘restraints’ he speaks of are the measures of censorship that his regime has undertaken. As he himself continues to state, the need to ‘restrain’ the patient during the operation is:

εκ προοιµίου, η απάντησις την οποίαν θα αναµένατε εάν, οµιλούντες περί δηµοκρατίας και ελευθερίας, µνηµονεύσητε τους περιορισµούς. Οι περιορισµοί είναι το δέσιµον του ασθενούς επί της κλίνης, δια να υποστή ακινδύνως την εγχείρησιν (1968a: 11).

as a preamble, the answer which you should expect if, speaking of democracy and freedom, you mention restraints. The restraints are straps that fasten the patient to the operating table so that he may go through the surgery devoid of any danger.

It becomes necessary, therefore, to remove the problem elements of the recent past both through surgery and through the ‘strapping down’ of the patient. Literally, the presence of the regime and all of the policies which it enacts, such as Martial Law, policies of censorship of the press and the arts, unlimited military powers of arrest and incarceration, become essential for the future wellbeing of the ethnocommunity. Importantly, as he assures the press at the end of this ‘preamble’, with these necessary actions—which have been proposed by a competent and capable doctor—

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the ethnocommunity will face no additional danger during its treatment. The desired health of the patient, he adds, will come about only with a re- definition and re-interpretation of ‘true’ democracy and freedom, according to the ‘fathers of Greek philosophy’ (ibid.). This cyclical argument is particularly relevant to the premise of this thesis: through medical metaphors, Papadopoulos establishes an environment where the sick patient will be treated through measures undertaken by a doctor in the present for an outcome in the future, which re-embraces the foundations of a distant past. Papadopoulos speaks of ‘restraints’ also in an attempt to justify the incarceration of political prisoners. Answering a question about the arrest, the location and the prospective release of those who participated in the King’s counter-coup of December 1967, Papadopoulos says the following:

∆εν ξέρω αν έχετε παρακολουθήσει εγχείρησιν, αλλά ο χειρουργός δένει και τα δύο χέρια, και το αριστερόν και το δεξιόν, διότι όποιο και αν κινηθή κάνει κακόν εις την εγχείρησιν. Το ίδιον εκάµαµε και ηµείς (1968b: 17).

I do not know if you have watched an operation, but the surgeon ties both hands, the left and the right one, because whichever one moves will be bad for the operation. We have also done the same thing.

In this example, Papadopoulos wishes to foreground the importance of the surgeon to the ultimate success of the surgery; that is, if the surgeon is not allowed to perform meticulously and take every action necessary to secure the surgery’s success, potentially, this could prove unfavourable to the dependent patient exposed on the operating table. Literally, the regime’s policies should not be questioned; they are implemented for the ultimate good of the ethnocommunity. In fact, continuing in his reply to this question, he uses another surgical metaphor to justify his regime’s

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continued imprisonment of these citizens, by pointing out the precision with which the decision for surgery is taken:

∆ια να µη κόψωµεν λοιπόν µε το νυστέρι και κανέναν αδίκως, τους εστείλαµε να παραµείνουν κάπου, όπου υπάρχει καθαρός αέρας και δεν επηρεάζονται από το περιβάλλον (1968b: 17).

So that we do not, therefore, cut anyone unjustly with the scalpel, we sent them somewhere, where there is fresh air and they are not affected by their environment.

Thus, he suggests, rather than perform surgery ‘unjustly’, the regime has temporarily separated the problem areas and placed them in an environment that does not adversely affect them or, by implication, others. This type of argument reflects Papadopoulos’s cyclical narrative of a recent past that fostered problematic elements, which the present environment, under his guidance, will remove for the unproblematic future. He also uses medical and surgical metaphors to justify his prolongation of power. At this same press conference, when asked about the likelihood of the country returning soon to a parliamentary democracy, he extends the surgical metaphor to aid his ambiguous reply:

Ο χρόνος αναρρώσεως του ασθενούς µετά την εγχείρησιν, ως και η διάρκεια της εγχειρήσεως είναι κάτι το οποίον εξαρτάται από την βαρύτητα της ασθενείας, την οποίαν αυτήν την στιγµήν δεν θα ηµπορούσα να είπω ότι γνωρίζω. Επίσης, από την δύναµιν του Οργανισµού να αντιδράση και να αποκατασταθή εις την υγείαν του (1968a: 11-12).

The recovery time of the patient after the operation, as well as the duration of the operation, is something which depends on the seriousness of the illness, which, at this moment, I could not say I

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know. This also depends on the strength of the [patient’s] physical constitution to react and recover its health.

Significantly a component of his first official speech, in this quotation, he is quite clear about the doctor’s decisions for the patient. Firstly, the surgery and the patient’s recovery depend on the ‘seriousness of the illness’; literally, the regime’s prolonged presence and continued actions depend on how great the inherited problems of the recent past are. The severity of these problems, he concedes, cannot yet be determined; however, it must be remembered that only the regime, as doctor, has the ability to ascertain them. Secondly, both the surgery and the recovery depend on how efficiently and closely the present ethnocommunity follows the regime’s doctrine; that is, reacts positively to the surgery. Additionally, he warns the press:

Είσθε το κέντρον που κινεί το νευρικόν σύστηµα και υπάρχει περίπτωσις να µου διαταράξητε, συναισθηµατικώς, την ηρεµίαν του ασθενούς κατά την διάρκειαν της εγχειρήσεως (1968b: 11).

You are the centre that puts the neurological system into motion and there is a chance that you will emotionally disturb the stability of the patient during the operation.

By identifying the essential role that the press plays in Greece’s ultimate wellbeing, Papadopoulos is able to place the onus of his regime’s prolongation on the press’s allegiance to this regime: should the regime’s directions not be followed, should objections continue to surface, the continued need to monitor the patient during the surgery will remain.2

2 Though total censorship was immediately enforced, it was lifted at particular stages during the dictatorship as a sign of ‘good faith’. It is important to note, however, that direct censorship of the press was not the only means by which the regime could monitor the output of this group. For example, increased taxes forced some papers to close down

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The use of surgical metaphors as an attempt to justify the regime’s prolongation of power and its postponement of elections becomes prominent in another press conference concerning the proposed 1968 Constitution:

∆εν είναι δυνατόν, όταν ένας αντιµετωπίζη την εγχείρησιν, να σχεδιάζη ταυτοχρόνως διακοπάς του ασθενούς δια το µεθεπόµενον έτος (ibid., p. 32).

It is not possible, when someone faces an operation, to be planning at the same time the patient’s holidays for the year after next.

In this example, there are two factors that are important. Firstly, the recovery of the patient cannot be determined prior to the operation as it is dependent on a number of factors on which he elaborated in a previous address and have been discussed above. Secondly, he emphasises that the focus of the present ethnocommunity should not be on immediate benefits; rather, it should be on the recovery process leading up to a better long- term future. And that recovery process holds the new 1968 Constitution at its core; this particular surgery represents the biggest hope of ‘healing’ the patient (ibid., p. 30; 1969a: 68, 81). In fact, the death of the nation is offered up as the only alternative to implementing the new Constitution:

Η Επανάστασις θα πραγµατώση τους σκοπούς της και θα τους πραγµατώση φέρουσα εις πέρας την εγχείρησιν, όπως ο χειρουργός εις την τράπεζαν. ∆ιότι εάν δεν επιτύχη η εγχείρησις, ο ασθενής θα αποθάνη. Έστω και αν πονέση ο άρρωστος, έστω και αν κλαίουν οι φίλοι του, η Επανάστασις θα επιτύχη του σκοπού δια τον οποίον έγινε, διότι πιστεύει ότι αυτό σηµαίνει την ζωήν του Ελληνικού Λαού, σηµαίνει την ζωήν της

during that time. For a thorough history of the press under the dictatorship, see McDonald (1983).

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Ελλάδος, και διά την ζωήν της Ελλάδος και µόνον αγωνιζόµεθα (1968b: 31).

The Revolution will achieve its aims and will realise them by finishing the operation, just like the surgeon on the surgical table. Because, if the operation does not succeed, the patient will die. Even if the sick man hurts, even if his friends cry, the Revolution will achieve the aim for which it came about, because it believes that this means the life of the Greek People, it means the life of Greece, and for the life of Greece solely we fight.

The parallel that is created is simple: if the operation does not succeed—an operation, which is dependent on the ethnocommunity’s allegiance to the doctor—the patient will die; literally, if the Revolution cannot succeed in implementing the Constitution—one which the Greek people must accept by voting ‘yes’—the ethnocommunity has no hope of a prosperous future. And a warning: the regime will stop at nothing to make sure that this happens; no matter who is ‘hurt’, no matter who ‘cries’. Surgery is soon replaced with the metaphor of the plaster cast: a treatment that is not quite as dramatic or immediate, yet still as all- encompassing. While surgery is dictated by a life-threatening illness, the plaster cast assumes simply a life-altering affliction, albeit for a short period of time. Rather than removing the problematic area that has been inherited from the recent past, a restructuring of the problematic area and a consistent and gradual healing is favoured. The historical cyclicality of Papadopoulos’s argument becomes quite pronounced with his use of this metaphor: past clumsiness or senselessness leads to a situation where the limb breaks, a present where the limb is ‘set’ and the healing takes place, and a future where the limb is restructured, the plaster is removed, and the patient can walk again on his own. Importantly, the doctor’s role in ‘setting’ the limb and determining

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when the patient is able to walk on his own is crucial; thus, the regime is again presented as the only means by which such a ‘healthy’ future can be achieved in the ethnocommunity. Like surgery, the plaster cast metaphor is delivered almost exclusively to the press and is used as a means of justifying particular policies of the regime: censorship of the press, the 1968 Constitution, and the continued incarceration of political prisoners. On 11 July 1968, in a brief question time following a speech delivered about the proposed new Constitution, Papadopoulos is asked a question regarding the articles concerning the freedom of the press. In his reply, he introduces his notorious metaphor of the plaster cast:

Πάλιν θα αποτολµήσω επαφήν µε τους ιατρούς. Ασθενή έχοµεν. Εις τον γύψον τον εβάλαµεν. Τον δοκιµάζοµεν εάν ηµπορή να περπατάη χωρίς τον γύψον. Σπάζοµεν τον αρχικόν γύψον και ξαναβάζοµεν ενδεχοµένως τον καινούργιο εκεί όπου χρειάζεται. Το ∆ηµοψήφισµα θα είναι µια γενική θεώρησις των ικανοτήτων του ασθενούς. Ας προσευχηθώµεν να µη χρειάζεται ξανά γύψον. Εάν χρειάζεται, θα του τον βάλωµεν. Και το µόνον που ηµπορώ να σας υποσχεθώ, είναι να σας καλέσω να ιδήτε και σεις το πόδι χωρίς γύψον! (ibid., p. 171)

Once again I will presume contact with the doctors. We have a patient. We put him in a plaster cast. We try to see whether he could walk without the cast. We break open the first cast, and we possibly put on a new one, where it is needed. The referendum will be a general assessment of the capabilities of the patient. Let us pray that he will not need a plaster cast again. If he needs it, then we shall put it on him. And the only thing that I can promise you is to invite you to also see the leg without a plaster cast!

In this example, the aim of the Revolution is clear: as long as the ethnocommunity is ‘unwell’, the regime will continue to ‘treat’ it. Here, he

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explicitly notes the importance of the 1968 Constitution in the treatment. The Referendum, he says, will determine just how capable the patient is of a quick recovery; that is, if the ethnocommunity votes for the Constitution, it will not require the plaster cast for as long a time as it would should it not vote for the Constitution—a Constitution which hoped to ‘prove’ Greece’s ‘democratic foundations’ under the regime. The statement almost acts as a warning: follow regime doctrine or face continued constraints. A few months later, however, he uses the plaster cast image to stress how even after the Referendum there will still be a need for such a restraint:

Είναι αι συνθήκαι ακόµη πρόσφατοι και έχοµεν ανάγκην—ας µου επιτρέψητε να επαναλάβω το παράδειγµα—του γύψου. ∆εν έχουν επουλωθή τα τραύµατα, και έπρεπε να καταστή δυνατόν να διατηρήσωµεν τον γύψον και µετά την επιψήφισιν του Συντάγµατος από τον Ελληνικόν Λαόν (1969a: 70).

The conditions are still recent and we have a need—allow me to repeat the example—of the plaster cast. The injuries have not healed, and we had to make it possible to preserve the plaster cast after the vote for the Constitution by the Greek People.

Once again, Papadopoulos attempts to establish the Constitution as a necessary step towards the healing of Greece. In this example, he is replying to a question about the article of the new Constitution concerning public order and security (Art. 5). Here, the metaphoric plaster cast becomes analogous to this article; that is, laws concerning public order and security can be held in abeyance or implemented according to how and when the regime sees fit. Similarly, the potential enactment of Martial Law becomes directly analogous to the potential ‘thickness of the plaster’; that is, Papadopoulos

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explains that through the reformation and modernisation of this ‘infamous’ law, as well as the article concerning public order and security, the regime will be in a better position to judge:

το αντίστοιχον πάχος του γύψου, το οποίον απαιτείται δια τον ανάπηρον µέχρι της αποθεραπείας του τραύµατος (ibid., p. 142).

the corresponding thickness of the plaster cast that is necessary for the invalid until the injury is healed completely.

A week later, a journalist questions Papadopoulos directly as to the meaning of this statement. In his lengthy reply (ibid., p. 151), Papadopoulos elaborates on the inherited ‘negative’ recent past—the old constitution, the old political world, the political-party venality, the immaturity of Greeks as political beings, the need for change in their mentality—and uses this past as a means of justifying the articles concerning Martial Law and censorship. He argues that these articles, this ‘thickness of plaster’, are necessary because the present is still steeped in such inherited problems; that is, the metaphoric ‘leg’ is still badly broken (ibid. pp. 151-4). The plaster cast image was used in the same way by negators of the dictatorship; that is, to signify the removal of fundamental freedoms in the country. In 1969, the Greek artist Vlasis Kaniaris exhibited a series of compositions with plaster enfolded in cloth carnations. These compositions were then encompassed by barbed wire. The work was unmistakable in its symbolism: the plaster was an obvious reference to Papadopoulos’s metaphor; carnations as an illusion to the executed communist Nikos Beloyiannis, known as the ‘man with the carnation’; and barbed wire as a sign of the dictatorship’s suppression of freedom. Similarly, in the following year, a short story by Thanasis Valtinos (1970) entitled The Plaster Cast was published. Valtinos’s short story is

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about a man who, after a fall, is held prisoner in a hospital and covered in plaster, eventually asphyxiating from the plaster being poured into his mouth. This represents another example of how such a metaphor could be used to symbolise not the necessity of healing Greece, as Papadopoulos intended, but, instead, the regime’s smothering of constitutional rights within the nation. Papadopoulos’s use of the plaster cast image is not limited to legitimating the Constitution or its particular articles. This becomes evident in the following examples concerning the regime’s continued incarceration of Greek citizens. Here, however, the plaster cast image is largely replaced with the image of crutches or a splint. In the first example, Papadopoulos states that political prisoners:

διατελούν απλώς υπό ένα διοικητικόν περιορισµόν, προκειµένου να µη πέσουν και «σπάσουν το πόδι των». Η Κυβέρνησις, εν πάση περιπτώσει, θα εξετάση εγκαίρως το θέµα και, εάν χρειάζεται να δοθούν «δεκανίκια», θα σκεφθή εάν θα ηµπορούσε να τους αφήση ελευθέρους, χωρίς να διακινδυνεύσουν να πάθουν ζηµίαν (1968b: 168).

remain simply under administrative restriction, so as they do not fall and ‘break their legs’. The Government, in any case, will examine the situation promptly and, if there is a need for ‘crutches’ to be given, it will consider if it could set them free, without them being in danger of hurting themselves.

In the second and third examples, which follow, he replies to a question concerning the release of prisoners in time for the 1968 Referendum. He begins with good tidings to those political prisoners who, according to him, will be released:

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Τους εύχοµαι να µη στραβοπατήσουν και µε υποχρεώσουν να τους ξαναβάλω εις τον νάρθηκα (1969a: 71).

I hope that they will not stagger and oblige me to place them in a splint again.

He ends, however, by stating that those who have been incarcerated will not be released because:

έχουν βαρύ τραύµα και οπωσδήποτε θα «ξανασπάσουν το πόδι των», εάν τους αφήσωµεν (ibid., p. 73).

they have a serious injury and surely will ‘break their legs once again’, if we release them.

In all three examples, the medical metaphor is used as a form of pre- emptive reasoning; that is, prisoners will continue to be held in case they persist in posing a problem for the ethnocommunity. While, according to the second example, he remains ‘hopeful’ that this will not happen, according to the last example, he is ‘certain’ that it will. Thus, if particular freedoms are indeed allowed, if crutches or a splint replace the plaster cast, extra precautions will be taken to assure that any ‘danger’ that these citizens may pose to themselves or, more appropriately, to society is counteracted. He names one such precaution explicitly in a later press address where he states that the article in the Constitution concerning freedom of speech (Art. 14, paras. 1-3) is being held in abeyance ‘as a splint’ (1970b: 97), thereby reiterating the importance of a slow, but progressive, healing of the patient. By the end of 1969, when the pressure from the Council of Europe forced Greece’s withdrawal from it, a journalist inquires (presumably with

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tongue firmly in cheek) about how far ‘the patient’ has progressed. Papadopoulos replies:

Πρώτον ο ασθενής δεν έχει σχέσιν µε όσα αποπειράσθε να τον συνδέσετε. Εβγάλαµε τον γύψον και εβάλαµε νάρθηκα και θέλοµεν τη βοήθεια των συγγενών να κάµη τα πρώτα βήµατα. Ελπίζοµεν να µη πέση και σπάση ξανά το πόδι του. Προσευχόµεθα. Προσευχηθήτε και σεις µαζί µας (ibid., p. 29).

Firstly, the patient has nothing to do with all that you are trying to link him to. We took off the plaster cast and we put on a splint and we want the help of his relatives to take his first steps. We hope that he does not fall and break his leg again. We pray for this. And you should pray with us.

Here, Papadopoulos focuses on the continued need for certain problematic elements in Greece to recover; however, with the image of the splint, these elements are not as urgent as they were when the regime first came to power; when surgery was necessary, or the plaster cast was needed. The cyclical narrative of a past, present and future is also apparent in Papadopoulos’s use of biological metaphors. As has been shown in previous chapters, Papadopoulos distinguishes between ‘healthy’ and ‘unhealthy’ cells of the ethnocommunity—the latter having been created and fostered by a ‘negative’ recent past. While the aim remains the same, i.e., to attain an organism that only consists of ‘capable’ and ‘healthy’ cells, the treatment that he proposes fluctuates between ‘purging’ the ‘bad’ cells altogether and ‘rehabilitating’, ‘regenerating’ or ‘renewing’ them. As has been examined, all of Papadopoulos’s proposed treatments expand on his pre-existing representations of the physical constitution of the patient and the patient’s various afflictions. Thus, the youth and students, as the cells ‘of the future’, represent the ‘renewed’ and

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‘regenerated’ cells—cells that are essential to the effective treatment of the human organism. He explains this to students of the University of Thessaloniki in an earlier address:

Όπως ο ανθρώπινος οργανισµός αποβάλλει τα παλαιά κύτταρα και τα αντικαθιστά µε νέα, έτσι και ηµείς [οφείλοµεν] να οδηγήσωµεν τους νέους εις τον σωστόν δρόµον, δια να υπάρξη οργανισµός ικανός να δηµιουργήση κοινωνίαν, η οποία θα αχθή εις τα µεγάλα πεπρωµένα της (1968a: 110).

Just as the human organism sheds its old cells and replaces them with new ones, likewise we lead the youth onto the right path, in order for there to exist an organism capable of creating a society, which will be led towards its great destiny.

This excerpt is a solid example of Papadopoulos’s use of biological comparisons to support his narrative of cyclical history. Firstly, old mentalities (old cells) must be ‘shed’ and the ethnocommunity must work in unison (‘we guide the youth’) to create and to foster a prosperous future ethnocommunity (‘an organism which will be led towards its great destiny’). One month later, in a speech to the students of Athens University, Papadopoulos is more explicit about how these cells will be regenerated; what is required in this treatment. Young people, he states, ‘πρέπει να βλέπουν τον δάσκαλον, το βιβλίον και τον σκοπόν των’ (must look to their teacher, their book and their goal) (ibid., p. 157)—presumably, implying that they should not look towards objecting to, or reacting against, the regime. Only in this way, he continues, will the youth be able to:

δώσουν εις την κοινωνίαν την δυνατότητα της ανανεώσεως των κυττάρων της (ibid.).

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give the community the ability to regenerate its cells.

The importance of developing the youth as ‘renewed’ cells for the future is a notion that Papadopoulos also stresses to other audiences. In an earlier address to scientists, he makes this position clear:

Ο άνθρωπος γεννάται δια να γεννήση κάποιον άλλον εις το πόδι του και απερχόµενος να αφήση ένα νέον κύτταρον εις την Κοινωνίαν ως οµάδα, ως οργανισµόν (1968b: 105).

Man is born to give birth to someone else to replace him and departing, to leave a new cell in Society as a group, as a body.

Similarly, in answer to a question from the press, he warns:

Εάν δεν αναπτύξωµεν την νεότητά µας και δεν αντιµετωπίσωµεν τα προβλήµατά της, εάν δεν την βοηθήσωµεν να αναπτυχθή ως τα νέα κύτταρα της κοινωνίας µας εις όλους τους τοµείς της δραστηριότητός της, κύτταρα κατάλληλα και ικανά δια τας σηµερινάς και µελλοντικάς συνθήκας, δεν θα ηµπορέσωµεν να αντιµετωπίσωµεν την ζωήν εις τον διεθνή στίβον (1969a: 154).

If we do not develop our youth and we do not address its problems, if we do not help it to develop as the new cells of our society in all sectors of its activities, cells that are capable and suitable for today’s and tomorrow’s conditions, we will not be able to face life in the international arena.

Thus, in the treatment of cells, the youth play a predominant role. Without the ‘regeneration’ and ‘fostering’ of capable cells, there will be no healthy future for the ethnocommunity, as biology dictates that cells must be ‘replaced’ in order for the human organism to survive (1969b: 67);

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therefore, without a new generation that is free from the problems of the recent past and that adheres to the values preached by the regime in the present, Greece will not be able to continue on into a prosperous future. Furthermore, because of Papadopoulos’s persistent use of the inclusive ‘we’ in the majority of the previously mentioned examples, for this to happen, the entire ethnocommunity must work as one with the regime. Interestingly, it is also to students and the education sector that Papadopoulos speaks of another treatment: ‘immunisation’. On three separate occasions during the first phase of the dictatorship, he stresses the importance of this sector pre-emptively ‘immunising’ itself against ‘the woodworm of egocentrism’ (1968a: 150), against prejudice, and against ties with the recent past (1968b: 58, 65). Such a metaphor is again reminiscent of Vasilikos’s parody in his novel ‘Z’ (1987), which was examined in the previous chapter. The General, after his lengthy discussion of the ‘mildew’ infecting the ‘vine’—that is, communism affecting the nation—suggests that the only way to treat the problem is to ‘spray’ the vine during its stages of growth. All of these stages are analogous to the literal stages of education (elementary and tertiary)— as the General himself goes on to explain. The youth, he emphasises, must be treated appropriately at each stage of its life as it represents the only solution for a healthy society in the future; a ‘healthy vine’. As has been previously examined, in order to cleanse the human organism, the ‘sick’ cells must be clearly distinguished from the ‘healthy’ ones. To perform this task, the Security Forces are exclusively selected. Once the Security Forces have ‘pinpointed’ which cells are ‘unhealthy’, then, as he reiterates to this audience, the diagnostician—a role that Papadopoulos establishes as his own and his regime’s—is obliged to act:

Η Επανάστασις οφείλει να αποβάλη εκ του κοινωνικού οργανισµού τα αντεθνικώς δρώντα κύτταρα. Και, εξυγιαίνουσα τον υπόλοιπον

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οργανισµόν, να βοηθήση, δια της απαλείψεως των αδυναµιών του παρελθόντος, τα άτοµα που είχον µετατραπή εις αναρχικά (1968a: 137).

The Revolution is obliged to purge the anti-nationally active cells from the social body. And, by purifying the rest of the human organism, to help, through the removal of the weaknesses of the past, the individuals that had been transformed into anarchists.

Through this biological representation it becomes clear that Papadopoulos views the issue as one of a defective human organism fostering ‘unhealthy’ cells rather than ‘unhealthy’ cells existing in and of themselves. This complements his view of the ‘negative’ recent past, and especially of communism: ‘bad’ individuals within a given ethnocommunity are the sum of their environment.3 According to Papadopoulos, it is not nature that is at fault, it is nurture. By ‘purifying’ the patient’s physical constitution, therefore, the weaknesses of the recent past and its cells (‘the actively anti- national cells’) will be removed and then cells that have been adversely affected because of these elements (‘the individuals that have been transformed into anarchists’) can then be ‘helped’. Thus, he negotiates two types of ‘sick’ cells: those that cannot be ‘rehabilitated’, i.e., the ones inherited from the past, and those that can, i.e., the ones that have only recently been ‘influenced’. For the ‘sick’ cells that cannot be ‘rehabilitated’, Papadopoulos is absolute in his treatment:

Προσδιορίζοντες τα ασθενή [κύτταρα], να τα αποβάλωµεν, δια να µη µολύνουν περαιτέρω τον οργανισµόν. Αλλά µόνον τα ασθενή (ibid., p. 142).

3 See Chapter 2.3.2, pp. 171-2.

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In determining the sick [cells], to purge them, so that they do not further pollute the organism. But only the sick.

He tells the Security Forces that the removal of these ‘sick’ cells is of primary importance to the successful treatment of the patient, even if, by implication, ‘healthy’ cells are also discarded in the process:

∆ιότι όσον επικίνδυνον είναι ο χειρουργός να αποβάλη και να προσβάλη κατά την εγχείρησιν, µετά των καρκινογόνων κυττάρων και υγιή κύτταρα, άλλο τόσον είναι επικίνδυνον δια τον οργανισµόν εάν αφήση επ’ αυτού ασθενή κύτταρα µετά των υγιών (ibid., p. 133).

Because as dangerous as it is for the surgeon to remove and to damage healthy cells together with cancerous ones during the operation, it is just as dangerous for the [body’s] physical constitution should he leave in it sick cells together with healthy ones.

However, he ends this particular speech by suggesting that it is preferable for the ‘sick’ to remain with the ‘healthy’ rather than for the ‘healthy’ to be ‘purged’ with the ‘sick’:

Είναι προτιµότερον ν’ αφήσωµεν µετά του υγιούς ασθενές τι άτοµον, παρά να αποβάλλωµεν µετά τους ασθενούς υγιές τοιούτον (ibid., p. 137).

It is better to keep a healthy person with a sick one rather than get rid of this healthy person with the sick one.

Thus, while these above quotations may seem contradictory, they are, in fact, complementary. In the first quotation, he is speaking of cells that cannot be ‘rehabilitated’; ones that we infer were inherited from the ‘negative’ recent past and cannot be ‘saved’. Consequently, these cells must be removed as they continue to ‘pollute’ the present environment. In

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the second quotation, however, he is speaking of cells that he suggests are only now being transformed into ‘sick’ ones, into ‘anarchists’. These cells, therefore, can and will be ‘rehabilitated’ because the present climate, under his leadership, is conducive to fostering such ‘healthy’ cells. The regime’s unique role in this ‘regeneration’ of cells is repeated in the following paragraph:

Αυτό, κύριοι, διαφοροποιεί και την κατάστασιν και την µορφήν του καθεστώτος µας από το προσωποπαγές δικτατορικόν καθεστώς. Μόνον τα δικτατορικά καθεστώτα τοποθετούν εις την χορείαν των αδίκων πάντα αντίθετον προς τας αρχάς των (ibid.).

This, gentlemen, is what differentiates both the situation and the form of our regime from personal dictatorial regimes. Only dictatorial regimes place anyone who goes against their principle in the chorus of the unjust.

Papadopoulos continues to use the biological metaphor in an attempt to reinforce the ‘unique’ qualities of his regime. In a speech to representatives of the foreign press, he asks the following rhetorical question: if a human renews 90% of their cells in order to survive, how then, does the ethnocommunity propose that it will survive without doing the same thing? He answers by placing his regime at the crossroads of this ‘rehabilitation’ process, stating that:

εις την κατάστασιν αυτήν επήλθε η έκρηξις. Ένα καψύλιον την νύκτα της 20ης προς την 21ην Απριλίου έδωσεν εις τον λαόν το έναυσµα της Επαναστάσεως προς αλλαγήν, προς ανάνηψιν, προς αποκατάστασιν της δηµόσιας ζωής (ibid., p. 80).

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the detonation occurred in this situation. A percussion cap on the night of the 20th to the 21st April gave the people the kindling of the Revolution towards change, towards restoration, towards the reestablishment of public life.

Papadopoulos uses biological metaphors also to highlight what particular components of the patient, i.e., what particular sectors of the ethnocommunity, need to be renewed. In the following example, he is speaking about what needs to be done in the administration and education sector:

Οι ανθρώπινοι οργανισµοί, κύριοι, είναι ζώντες οργανισµοί και όπως ο Θεός ως ∆ηµιουργός ώρισεν εις τον βασικώς ζώντα οργανισµόν, τον τελειότερον που έφτιαξεν, τον άνθρωπον, ότι τα κύτταρα που τον συγκροτούν πρέπει να ανανεώνωνται, δια να υφίσταται ένας κύκλος ζωής µέσα εις τον όλον οργανισµόν που συγκροτεί τον άνθρωπον, έτσι και κάθε οργανισµός που αποτελείται από ανθρώπους και είναι εποµένως ανθρώπινος, πρέπει να ανανεούται κατά τα κύτταρά του, δια να διατηρή την βιολογικήν του ισχύν και εποµένως δια να είναι ικανός να αντιµετωπίση το αντίστοιχον έργον (1969b: 67)

Human organisms, gentlemen, are living organisms and just as God as the Creator determined in the basic living organism—the most perfect one that he made: man—that the cells of which he is formed must be renewed in order for a cycle of life to exist in the total organism of which man is formed, so too every organism, which consists of men and is consequently human, must be renewed in its cells so that its biological strength is sustained and so that it is capable of addressing its corresponding task.

As has been previously noted, Papadopoulos focused much of his rhetoric, both literal and figurative, on the need to overhaul the public sector and,

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in this way, it seems appropriate that he would chose a metaphor with qualities that reflect the ‘shedding’ of the ‘old’ and ‘ailing’ in favour of the ‘new’ and the ‘strong’. During the second phase of the dictatorship, he continues to describe the state mechanism as a ‘living organism’, emphasising that:

ουδείς ζων οργανισµός δύναται να επιβιώση, άν δεν αντιµετωπίση πρώτον την αντικατάστασιν των κυττάρων του και δεύτερον την ενδυνάµωσιν των κυττάρων του (ibid., p. 183).

no living organism is able to survive if it does not address, firstly, the regeneration of its cells and, secondly, the strengthening of its cells.

And it is in this ‘regeneration’ that Papadopoulos’s cyclical narrative of a ‘negative’ recent past, necessitating that his ‘revolutionary’ present restore the qualities of the distant past in a prosperous future, becomes most evident. In fact, it is stressed as ‘futile’ for the ethnocommunity to concern itself with anything other than this:

Μη ασχολήσθε, κύριοι, µε το να επιζήση αυτό το οποίον φυσιολογικώς έχει αποθάνει. Είναι µάταιος κόπος να ασχολήται κανείς να αναστήση ένα νεκρόν. Ασχοληθήτε να δηµιουργήσητε εις την θέσιν του νεκρού νέαν ζωήν (ibid., p. 161).

Do not concern yourselves, gentlemen, with something living which has naturally died. It is a futile attempt for anyone to concern themselves with raising a dead person. Concern yourselves with creating a new life in the place of the dead person.

Thus, a rebirth or resurrection of the entire being is cast as the ultimate treatment.

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Papadopoulos proposes a rebirth of the entire ethnocommunity, highlighting specific components of it, such as the press (1968a: 56), education (1968a: 105), the social welfare system (1968b: 145), and technology (1969a: 44). The analogy of rebirth serves Papadopoulos’s cyclical argument well: there is a recent past that needs to be transformed entirely in the present in order to attain a cleansed, new and prosperous future comprised of distant past ideals. Essentially, while the physical being may remain the same, its spiritual centre is entirely transformed, cleansed of all impurities inherited from the recent past. Thus, with rebirth, it is no longer a matter of healing the problematic elements, but of breathing new life into them. The quantitative data on the repetition of the term rebirth (αναγέννησις, anagenisis) show that it appears in addresses to the press, the Armed Forces and Security Forces, the agricultural sector and rural areas, government ministers, and to the nation as a whole on particular dates that celebrated moments deemed ‘glorious’ in Greece’s history. Overall, the term rebirth is more prevalent during the first phase of the dictatorship, where half of all instances of it appear. This was a time when Papadopoulos would have explicitly needed to focus on how his regime would provide the foundations for a newer and brighter future. Rebirth does, however, experience a resurgence from the end of 1970 until the end of 1971. This resurgence appears to complement a flurry of new ‘democratic’ measures that the regime began to introduce: the abolition of mandatory certificates on a citizen’s healthy social views (Πιστοποιητικά Κοινωνικών Φρονηµάτων); the lifting of Martial Law; the closing down of the detention camps on the island of Leros and at Oropos being closed (‘Athenian’ 1972: 5); and the reintroduction of various articles from the 1968 Constitution, which, up until that time, continued to be held in abeyance. Moreover, for the majority of nations, geopolitical concerns in the region overrode those of undemocratic practices within Greece. Thus,

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at this time, there was a flurry of official visits from other nations— notably, the then vice-president of the USA and the British foreign minister—and large contracts and trade agreements were signed with West Germany, France, and the USSR’s satellite states—all of which were considered by the regime as a stamp of international approval.4 According to Papadopoulos’s political rhetoric, there are three factors that are essential for the rebirth of the being: his regime; the ethnocommunity working together as one unit; and that the ethnocommunity accepts the qualities that the regime proposes as necessary for the rebirth. Firstly, in almost all of the speeches where Papadopoulos mentions the rebirth, he focuses on how his and his regime’s guidance is fundamental to this transformation. In the opening paragraphs of speeches to the Security Forces, the agricultural sector, and the Armed Forces, respectively, he emphasises that it is the Revolution that has provided the present ethnocommunity with the ability to be reborn (1968a: 131; 1968b: 98; 1972: 69). He tells the nation, also at the beginning of a speech, one which celebrated the military prowess of Greeks, that it is the National Revolution that has provided the foundation for this rebirth (ibid., p. 114) and, he warns:

[η] αναβίωσις του αµαρτωλού επικινδύνου δια την εθνικήν υπόστασίν µας παρελθόντος, αποκλείεται απολύτως (ibid.).

the revival of the sinful past that is dangerous for our national existence is absolutely out of the question.

4 For a discussion of the policies of this time, see Chapter 1, pp. 84-9.

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The importance of not ‘reviving’ the recent past goes to the heart of his cyclical narrative and is a notion he also stresses in the closing paragraphs of the speech he delivers on the sixth anniversary of his regime:

Η πείρα του προεπαναστατικού παρελθόντος απέδειξεν ότι η επίδρασις της δηµοκοπίας εις τον χειρισµόν των τοµέων αυτών εδηµιούργησε σοβαρούς κινδύνους, οι οποίοι δεν πρέπει ν’ αναβιώσουν (2004: 200).

The experience of the pre-revolutionary past showed that the impact of demagogy in the handling of these sectors created serious dangers, which must not be revived.

In this particular speech, which concerned the areas of foreign relations, national defence and public order, he uses the Revolution as a date marker to further distinguish between the ‘negative’ recent past (‘pre-revolutionary past’) and the present.5 In another celebratory speech, this time to the Armed Forces in celebration of Ochi Day, he continues to stress the importance of the regime’s role in this rebirth:

[Η Επανάστασις] δηµιουργεί τας υλικάς, τας οργανωτικάς και τας πολιτιστικάς προϋποθέσεις µιας πραγµατικής εθνικής αναγεννήσεως (1972: 148).

[The Revolution] is creating the material, organisational and cultural foundations of a true national rebirth.

He tells the press—with an arguably conscious parallel to the Renaissance (η Αναγέννησις), a homonym in Greek for rebirth—and the

5 See Chapter 2.3.2.

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agricultural sector, respectively, that the rebirth of the being remains the primary task of the Revolution:

Ήλθοµεν δια να κάµωµεν έργον Αναγεννήσεως του Έθνους (1968a: 56).

We came to enact the Rebirth of the Nation.

Η ανάπλασις και αναγέννησις του Έθνους είναι ο σκοπός, τον οποίον έχει τάξει η Εθνική Κυβέρνησις, εκφράζουσα το πνεύµα της Επαναστάσεως (ibid., p. 75).

The remoulding and rebirth of the Nation is the aim which the National Government, expressing the spirit of the Revolution, has ordered.

In the final sentence of a speech he gives following the Referendum on the 1968 Constitution, he uses a mixed metaphor to stress that the nation, now, finally, can move ‘forward in the ’s rebirth’; a ‘battle’ which he states the Revolution began (1969a: 85). He is consistent, however, in pointing out that while the regime certainly has provided the foundations for the rebirth, in many ways, it has already begun the long process of such a renewal. For example, in the closing paragraphs of a speech to Greeks living abroad, he sends them a ‘αδελφικόν χαιρετισµόν ευγνωµοσύνης της αναγεννωµένης Ελλάδος’ (brotherly greeting of gratitude from reborn Greece) (ibid., p. 53). Similarly, he ends three speeches to the nation, to citizens of Patras and to citizens of Irakleion in Crete, respectively, by restating that Greece is indeed already being reborn (1968b: 136, 149; 1972: 103). He continues to highlight this in later speeches. He concludes a speech he delivers to the nation on the second anniversary of the dictatorship, by saying that:

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η Πατρίς µας προχωρεί πλέον ανεκκλήτως προς την οικονοµικήν, την πνευµατικήν, την πολιτικήν και την κοινωνικήν Αναγέννησίν της (1970a: 36).

now, our Fatherland continues unhindered towards its economic, spiritual, political and social Rebirth.

Secondly, according to Papadopoulos’s political rhetoric, it is imperative that every individual within the ethnocommunity works together for the rebirth. This notion is stressed with the introduction of the term rebirth into Papadopoulos’s rhetoric. In one of Papadopoulos’s first speeches to war veterans, he states that Greece will be unable to continue forward if the person who believes in the Revolution does not try to persuade the person who does not to change his ways:

∆ια να συµπορευθή µαζί µας εις την αναγέννησιν του Έθνους (1968a: 37).

So that he goes along with us in the rebirth of the Nation.

A month later, the importance of this collegiality is emphasised to Greeks living abroad:

Ο Λαός και η Εθνική Κυβέρνησις έχουν αναλάβει από κοινού την σταυροφορίαν δια την αναγέννησιν και την πρόοδον του Έθνους (ibid., p. 52).

The People and the National Government have jointly undertaken the crusade for the rebirth and progress of the Nation.

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Mixing metaphors, Papadopoulos also stresses the importance of working together to the Security Forces. He tells them that Greece will not be reborn if:

εις την φάλαγγα εργασίας του παρουσιάση µόνον ένα ποσοστόν εκ του λαού του (ibid., p. 143).

it displays only a small number of its people in its work brigade.

The importance of working together to achieve this rebirth is stressed additionally to the financial sector (1968b: 26), in a later address to Greeks living abroad (1972: 45), to his ministers (ibid., p. 136), and at the inauguration of a thermo-electric plant in Aliveri (1968b: 159), where he concludes:

Συνεργασίαν, λοιπόν, ας αναζητήσωµεν όλοι, ο ένας από τον άλλον, και έστε βέβαιοι ότι η ευτυχία της νέας αναγεννωµένης Ελλάδος θα γίνη πραγµατικότης (ibid.).

Let us all then, ask for collegiality from each other, and be sure that the joy of a new reborn Greece will become reality.

In later speeches, Papadopoulos begins to qualify the rebirth with the adjective national (εθνικός, ethnikos)—whose connotations were examined extensively in Chapter 2.2—and he does so in specific speeches aimed at highlighting the regime’s alleged value in the present ethnocommunity. The first example occurs in a speech celebrating the fourth anniversary of the regime (1972: 77); the second, in the speech announcing Papadopoulos’s assumption of the Regency in 1972 (2004: 42). The combination ‘national rebirth’ also occurred in a speech celebrating Ochi

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Day; however, here too, it was used to highlight the ‘positive qualities’ that his regime brings to the rebirth of the nation (1972: 148).6 In the process of rebirth, Papadopoulos also assigns particular roles to particular groups. Just as the Security Forces were given a special role among the collective as the ‘diagnostic instruments’ that the doctor will use to treat the patient, so too, with this metaphor, do they become the ‘holy missionaries’ who will guide the ethnocommunity in the rebirth (1968a: 135). Similarly, the Armed Forces are placed in charge of leading the ‘Fatherland’ towards ‘Rebirth’ (his own capitals) (1969a: 102)—in fact, Papadopoulos stresses that the security with which the Armed Forces have provided the present ethnocommunity is fundamental to this rebirth (1969b: 99; 1972: 182). Thirdly, for the rebirth to successfully occur, the ethnocommunity must trust that certain values must be re-embraced. He tells the agricultural sector that the notion of responsibility must be re-established (1968b: 124). He opens an earlier speech to the education sector by stating that this rebirth is one of the ‘spirit of Hellenism’ (1968a: 110). The importance of these qualities is also stressed at the first DET (International Exhibition of Thessaloniki) address:

Όλοι πρέπει να αναγεννηθώµεν ίνα, ως οδηγοί αλλά και σκαπανείς της νέας Ελλάδος, επιτύχωµεν να πραγµατώσωµεν το όνειρο των Ελλήνων: Την ευδαιµονούσαν Ελλάδα των Ελλήνων Χριστιανών (1969a: 49).

We must all be reborn so that, as guides but also as pioneers of the new Greece, we can succeed in realising the dream of the Greeks: the blissful Greece of Greek Christians.

6 See the block quotation on p. 307.

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The importance of the qualities of Hellenism and Christianity in the rebirth of the organism is most obvious in speeches to the agricultural sector. In the following speech, given a year after the dictatorship took power, in celebration of Orthodox , Papadopoulos uses the Resurrection of Christ as a parallel to the rebirth of Greece. This parallel is particularly revealing as to the special significance that Papadopoulos confers upon Christianity in the present ethnocommunity and, importantly, the relevance of Christian values to the future ethnocommunity—notions that have been studied extensively in Chapter 2.4:

Ο Χριστός εβάσισε την θρησκείαν µας επάνω εις το κενοτάφιον, και όλοι οι Χριστιανοί µέχρι σήµερον την ηµέραν της Αναστάσεως διαδηλούµεν την πίστιν µας εις την θρησκείαν µας µε την ιαχήν «Χριστός Ανέστη»! Ας προσθέσωµεν από σήµερον όλοι οι Έλληνες, εις τα στήθη των οποίων πάλλει η Ελληνική ψυχή, την πίστιν µας εις την Ελλάδα, µε την ευχήν και την ιαχήν «Ελλάς Ανέστη» Και µε την ευχήν «Χριστός Ανέστη – Ελλάς Ανέστη», ας πάρωµεν δύναµιν οι Έλληνες Χριστιανοί δια την πραγµάτωσιν της Μεγάλης Ελλάδος, η οποία δεν είναι µόνον ιδέα, αλλά είναι πραγµατικότης, διότι την θέλουν οι Έλληνες που την αποτελούν. Και µε την πίστιν εις την ιδέαν αυτήν ως πραγµατικότητα, ας αναφωνήσωµεν: Ζήτω η Μεγάλη Ελλάς (1968b: 119).

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Christ based our religion on the empty tomb, and all of us Christians until today, on the day of the Resurrection, demonstrate our belief in our religion with the cry ‘Christ is Risen’! Let all Greeks in whose breast there throbs the Greek soul add, from today, our belief in Greece with the blessing and the cry ‘Greece is risen’. And with the blessing ‘Christ is risen – Greece is risen’, let us Greek Christians take strength towards the realisation of Greater Greece, which is not only an concept, but is reality, because the Greeks that compose it, want it. And with the belief in this idea as a reality, let us exclaim: Long Live Greater Greece.

Here, playing on the rhetorical interaction ‘Χριστός ανέστη/Αληθώς ανέστη’ (Christ is risen/Indeed he is risen) said at Easter, Papadopoulos is able to parallel Greece’s rebirth to that of Christ’s. This is relevant for two reasons. Firstly, Easter is a hugely significant cultural and religious occasion in Greece; therefore, any imagery pertaining to it is readily transferable to the community. Secondly, because of this, the relevance of Christ’s death and Resurrection is easily understood by all; that is, according to Christian doctrine, Christ sacrificed himself for the salvation of others. Through his death, and his resurrection, he was able to show people that faith alone would offer them eternal life. Additionally—and importantly to how Papadopoulos intends the parallel—it suggests that people would indeed benefit in life if they adhered to, trusted and believed in Christ’s prescribed lessons and his sacrifice. Thus, Papadopoulos slightly amends this rhetorical interaction to fuse Greece’s rebirth with the same qualities shown through Christ’s: individual sacrifice and selflessness, so that the present and future ethnocommunity may benefit. Thus, a ‘blissful’ future shall be achieved only by adhering to, trusting and having faith in the same religious doctrine laid out before it.

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Furthermore, in the ethnocommunity’s resurrection, Christian belief is integral, and he continues to stress this to the agricultural sector who are reminded that this resurrection of the nation, the body, is indeed an ‘obligation’ of the entire ethnocommunity. He warns that in the absence of this individual sacrifice for the benefit of the group:

θα παραµείνωµεν δεµένοι εις το κρεββάτι του µελλοθανάτου δια να αποθάνωµεν, [λοιπόν,] οφείλοµεν να αναστήσωµεν τον µελλοθάνατον ελληνικόν κοινωνικόν οργανισµόν (ibid., p. 37).

we will remain tied to the bed of future-death in order to die, [thus,] we are obliged to resurrect the Greek social organism of future-death.

This obligation is dictated by the ethnocommunity’s ‘religion’ and its ‘history’ (1968b: 136); therefore, if the ethnocommunity, once more, has trust and belief in the ‘strength of their race’—i.e., the strength of their organism—Greece will, once more, be reborn according to such doctrines. The notion of rebirth was so integral to Papadopoulos’s rhetoric that it became the emblem of the regime, an emblem which was visibly prominent throughout the dictatorship. It was plastered on walls, in theatres, and it appeared on the back cover of each of the volumes of Papadopoulos’s political ‘creed’: Το Πιστεύω Μας. Additionally, when Papadopoulos assumed the regency in 1972, new coins were minted replacing the head of the King with this emblem (Woodhouse 1991: 302).

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Papadopoulos (2004).

The emblem draws on the myth of a bird, the , which, at the end of its exceptionally long life, builds itself a nest which it then ignites. From the ashes, it is then reborn. To the breast of this bird, however, the regime adds an armed soldier. Above the pyre the word ‘Greece’ is suspended and the banner across the bottom of the emblem reads ‘21 April’.7 The myth of the phoenix became popular in early Christian art and symbolism as a visual metaphor for the Resurrection of Christ, and importantly, it symbolises eternal life. Over time, the phoenix’s form altered and became more like that of an eagle, which better reflects the bird in the regime’s emblem above. One could also argue that, there are

7 The phoenix rising out of the pyre was such a well-established emblem of the dictatorship that one Greek historian refers to this period of history as the ‘Seven Years of the Phoenix’ (Meletopoulos 1996: 29). A journalist on assignment in Greece in the initial years of the dictatorship, entitled his published observations ‘Phoenix with a Bayonet’ (Stockton 1971). Another scholar of modern Greek history, implying that Papadopoulos was ‘the phoenix’ described the reaction of some of Papadopoulos’s colleagues in 1973 when he became President of the new ‘Democratic Republic’:

Some of the president’s colleagues felt that the phoenix was preparing its own funeral pyre (Xydis 1974: 529).

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distinct visual connections with the flag of the Orthodox faith, which displays a two-headed eagle. Significantly, in the newly formed Greek nation of 1828, it appeared on coins minted in commemoration of the Greek nation’s ‘rebirth’ (Xydis 1974: 508, fn. 2). By representing the history of the phoenix rising anew from the pyre, Papadopoulos attempts to fuse the Resurrection of Christ with the rebirth of Greece under his regime: out of the pyre of the phoenix—one which, significantly, it creates for itself—comes the life of a new Greece; however, only with the Revolution at its ‘breast’ will the ethnocommunity once again be born anew.8 Importantly, this emblem acts as a complement to Papadopoulos’s cyclical narrative: it is only through a fusion of Christian and Hellenic ideals that this necessary rebirth, the ultimate treatment for the ethnocommunity, will be achieved.

8 According to Xydis (1974: 509), the armed soldier was removed from the emblem after the 1973 ‘Presidential Parliamentary Republic’. This action of keeping the focus on rebirth and taking the focus away from visibly disciplining the Greek soul is largely consistent with Papadopoulos’s attempted ‘democratic’ legitimation at this time, both in the new form of ‘Government’ and within his political rhetoric. Interestingly, when Ioannidis usurped Papadopoulos in November 1973, the armed soldier was returned to the breast of the phoenix, along with the explicit ‘discipline’ of the ethnocommunity (ibid.). It should be noted, however, that while the emblem of the dictatorship altered over the years, the phoenix rising out of the ashes with ‘Greece’ at its head and ‘21 April’ at its feet remained; that is, the emphasis on the rebirth of the ethnocommunity continued.

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Conclusion

Through the examination of key lexical and figurative representations in Papadopoulos’s political speeches from April 1967 until November 1973, certain conclusions can be drawn. Papadopoulos consistently constructs a cyclical narrative that places his regime, as the leadership, at the crossroads between a ‘negative’ recent past and a ‘glorious’ future embodying the ideals of a distant past. Furthermore, the Greek people, as the ethnocommunity, are consistently represented as a unified, collective body, with a shared history and religion; a body that is unwaveringly united in its support of the regime and any endeavour that it proposes. In his construction of the ‘negative’ recent past, Papadopoulos repeats terms laden with negative connotations, such as ‘corrupt’, ‘slanderous’, ‘chaotic’ and ‘tyrannical’, alongside the term past. This past is additionally reinforced through the repetition of the terms weakness, danger and communism and through the formation of specific terms using the suffix –cracy, such as societocracy, individualocracy, familocracy, favourocracy, corruptocracy and mobocracy. In contrast, terms laden with positive connotations are used in his construction of the distant past. He enforces the importance of a shared, ‘glorious’ history by repeating terms and concepts such as Christian, Helleno-Christianity, sacrifice, morality and faith—concepts that were framed, according to him, by the legacy of Classical Greece, Byzantium and past struggles, such as the National Revolution of 1821, the Albanian campaign (1940-1) and the Civil War against the communists (1943-9). This notion of a shared history, culture and religion is additionally reinforced through his repetition of the representations of the ethnocommunity: nation, Greece, Great Greece, Helleno-Christianity, Greece of the Greek Christians, fatherland, mother-fatherland and people. Furthermore, by using these terms to construct the ethnocommunity,

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Papadopoulos also proposes that his regime’s endeavour is a shared endeavour of the collective group because of an ‘obligation’ to this legacy. These constructs of the recent and distant past are then directly paralleled to the ‘revolutionary’ present—the metaphorical baton bearer on an imaginary timeline moving away from the recent past and into a future that recreates the values of a distant past. The present ethnocommunity, Papadopoulos argues, is not only more secure, free, and democratic today because of the Revolution, cleansed of all the impurities of the recent past, but, through the regime’s leadership, it actively creates another glorious ‘page in history’ for its descendants. Similar arguments were uncovered in the examination of his medical and biological analogies. Papadopoulos presents the patient, whose physical constitution is ailing. He suggests that a bacteria or poison is affecting the circulatory system; that arteries are ‘clogged’; that cells are ‘unhealthy’ or ‘cancerous’; that abscesses need to be ‘drained’, or a cancerous tumour removed. His regime is presented as the doctor or surgeon, proposing that the Revolution shares these medical practicioners’ attributes of knowledge, capability, and a caring and determined predisposition. Importantly, as the patient is always subject to the doctor’s ‘diagnosis’ or the surgeon’s ‘operation’, the doctor is always in control. So, he argues, the patient needs to trust the doctor in his decisions, because those decisions are for the patient’s own good. Importantly, the doctor is always in charge of providing the clean bill of health, and thus, literally, the regime’s longevity and its policies remain indefinitely. The notion of the collective ethnocommunity is reinforced metaphorically with the images of the body, skeleton, or human organism, and its various components, such as the heart, the leg, the liver, the circulatory system, or the brain, and with the presentation of the patient’s

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relatives – everyone must work together in order for the treatment of the patient to be successful. The various treatments that he proposes fall loosely into two categories: a definitive removal of unhealthy components through surgery or through the ‘purging’ of potentially life-threatening cells, or a gradual healing with the plaster cast or splint and the ‘renewal’ and ‘rehabilitation’ of cells. The ultimate treatment, however, is that of rebirth. And like its lexical counter-part, the rebirth requires a renaissance of Classical Greece and Byzantium and of Greek Orthodoxy: A Greece of Greek Christians. This thesis has also illustrated how the pointed lexical and figurative choices Papadopoulos makes vary according to audience composition and/or time of delivery. For example, Papadopoulos is more likely to stress the democratic underpinnings of his regime in addresses to the representatives of public opinion overseas and to sectors that benefited from favourable new incentives: agriculture, industry, and the merchant marine and shipping. The alleged unique qualities of the Revolution are emphasised to overseas representatives, as is the glorious ‘legacy’, which the regime aims at providing for future generations. The exemplary qualities of the regime, as Papadopoulos deems them, are additionally stressed to war veterans, the Armed Forces and the Security Forces. In fact, Papadopoulos presents the Security Forces metaphorically as the ‘medical instruments’ used in ‘pinpointing’ the ‘cancerous’ cells and removing them from the rest of the human organism. With this group, however, the emphasis lies equally with the ‘glories’ of the distant past and its role in transferring such ‘glories’ into the future, under the guidance of his regime. Conversely, the importance of the future is always emphasised with students and the youth, who are reminded that they are the future skeleton or the ‘renewed’ cells of the ethnocommunity and they must ‘purge’ themselves of any influences of the recent past. In addresses to the

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press, the emphasis is on the ‘democratic’ nature of the now, under the regime. With this in mind, it is appropriate that the majority of his medical and biological analogies are also delivered to this group. Regardless of particular tendencies or individualised emphasis according to audiences or over time, however, it must be stressed that according to the data and their subsequent interpretation, all sectors, at all times, are the recipients of Papadopoulos’s holistic narrative of past, present and future Greece—a narrative that is continually reinforced through pointed lexical and figurative representations. Finally, by examining the linguistic tools used in creating discourse, by demonstrating their ‘active political potential’ (Rindler Schjerve 1989: 59), the social, economic and ideological reality of the time becomes more lucid. Rhetorically, Papadopoulos’s intentions are indeed apparent: to ‘renounce’ the ‘negative’ recent past; to ‘revolutionise’ the present; and to ‘resurrect’ the ‘glories’ of the distant past in the future.

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PEPELASIS, A. A. (1959), ‘The Legal System and Economic Development in Greece’, in: The Journal of Economic History, 19(2): 173-98. PEPELASIS, A. A. & THOMPSON, K. (1960), ‘Agriculture in a Restrictive Environment: The Case of Greece’, in: Economic Geography, 36(2): 145-57. PESMAZOGLU, J. (1972), ‘The Greek Economy Since 1967’, in: R. Clogg & G. Yannopoulos, Greece Under Military Rule (New York: Basic Books, Inc., Publishers), pp. 75-106. POTTER, J. W. (1996), An Analysis of Thinking and Research About Qualitative Methods (New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates). RINDLER SCHJERVE, R. (1989), ‘The Political Language of Futurism and its Relationship to ’, in: R. Wodak (ed.), Language, Power and Ideology: Studies in Political Discourse (Amsterdam and Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company), pp. 57-79. ROBERTS, J. M & LEGG K. R. (1991), ‘Political Strategies for Economic Manipulation: Democratic Elections in Greece 1960-1985’ in: The Western Political Quarterly, 44(1): 39-65. ROSEN, S. (1987), Hermeneutics as Politics (New York & Oxford: ). SAMATAS, M. (1986), ‘Greek McCarthyism: A Comparative Assessment of Greek Post-Civil War Repressive Anticommunism and the U.S. Truman-McCarthy Era’, in: Journal of the Hellenic Diaspora 13(3-4): 5- 75. SARAFIS, M (1990), ‘Contemporary Greek History for English Readers: An Attempt at a Critical Analysis’, in: M. Sarafis & M. Eve, Background to Contemporary Greece, 1 (London: The Merlin Press), pp. 123-52. SARAFIS, M. & EVE, M. (1990a), Background to Contemporary Greece, 1 (London: The Merlin Press). — (1990b), Background to Contemporary Greece, 2 (London: The Merlin Press).

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SCHWANDT, T. A. (1997), Qualitative Analysis: A Dictionary of Terms (Thousand Oaks, London & New Delhi: Sage Publications). SMITH, O. L. (1993), ‘The Greek Communist Party, 1945-9’, in: D. H. Close, The Greek Civil War, 1943-1950: Studies in Polarization (London & New York: Routledge), pp. 129-55. SONTAG, S. (1979), Illness as Metaphor (London: Allen Lane). SPILIOTIS, S-S. (2000), ‘“An Affair of Politics, Not Justice”: The Merten Trial (1957-1959) and Greek-German Relations’, in: M. Mazower, After the War Was Over. Reconstructing the Family, Nation, and State in Greece, 1943 – 1960 (Princeton & Oxford: Princeton University Press), pp. 293-302. STAVROU, N. A. (1976), Allied Politics and Military Interventions: The Political Role of the Greek Military (Athens: Papazisis Publishers). STOCKTON, B. (1971), Phoenix with a Bayonet: A Journalist’s Interim Report on the Greek Revolution (Ann Arbor, Michigan: Georgetown Publications). SVORONOS, N. G. (1976), N. Γ. Σβόρωνος, Επισκόπηση της Νεοελληνικής Ιστορίας. 2η έκδ [Survey of Modern Greek History. 2nd edn] (Athens: Themelio). SCHWAB, P. & FRANGOS, G. D. (eds) (1970), Greece Under the Junta (New York, N.Y.: Facts on File, Inc.). THEODORAKIS, M. (1973), Journal of Resistance (New York: Coward, McCann & Geoghegan, Inc.). [Published in French in 1971. Trans. Graham Webb.] THOMADAKIS, S. B. (1981), ‘Black Markets, Inflation, and Force in the Economy in Occupied Greece’, in: J. O. Iatrides (ed.), Greece in the 1940s: A Nation in Crisis (Hanover & London: The University Press of New England), pp. 61-80.

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TISMANEANU, V. (c1998), Fantasies of Salvation: Democracy, Nationalism and Myth in Post-Communist Europe (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press). TREHOLT, A. (1972), ‘Europe and the Greek Dictatorship’, in: R. Clogg & G. Yannopoulos, Greece Under Military Rule (New York: Basic Books, Inc., Publishers), pp. 210-27. TSOUKALAS, C. (1986), Κ. Τσουκαλάς, Κράτος, Κοινωνία, Εργασία στη Μεταπολεµική Ελλάδα [State, Society, Work in Post-War Greece] (Athens: Themelio). VALDES, M. J. (ed.) (1991), A Ricoeur Reader: Reflection and Imagination (Toronto & Buffalo: University of Toronto Press). VALTINOS, T. (1970), Θ. Βαλτινός, ‘Ο Γύψος’ [The Plaster Cast], in: ∆εκαοχτώ Κείµενα [Eighteen Texts] (Athens: Kedros). (Eponymous translation published as Barnstone, op. cit.) VAN BELLE, W. & CLAES, P. (1985), ‘The Logic of Deterrence: a Semiotic and Psychoanalytic Approach’, in: P. Chilton (ed.), Language and the Nuclear Arms Debate: Nukespeak Today (London & Dover, N.H.: Frances Pinter Publishers), pp. 91-102. VAN DIJK, T. A. (ed.) (1985), Handbook of Discourse Analysis, 1 (London & Orlando: Academic Press). — (1997a), ‘What is Political Discourse Analysis?’, in: Belgian Journal of Linguistics, Political Linguistics, 11: 11-52. (J. Bloomaert & C. Bulcaen (eds).) — (ed.) (1997b), Discourse Studies: a Multidisciplinary Introduction, 2 (London: Sage). — (1998), Ideology: A Multidisciplinary Approach (London: Sage Publications). VAN DYCK, K. (1998), Kassandra and the Censors Greek Poetry since 1967 ( & New York: Cornell University Press). VASILIKOS, V. (1987), Β. Βασιλικός, Z (Athens: Γνώση Publications).

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— (1996), Ζ (Athens: Livani Publishing House). VEREMIS, T. (1987), ‘The Military’, in: K. Featherstone & D. K. Katsoudas (eds), Political Change in Greece: Before and After the Colonels (London & Sydney: Croom Helm), pp. 214-29. — (1997), The Military in Greek Politics: From Independence to Democracy (Montreal, New York & London: Black Rose Books). VLACHOU, H. (1970), House Arrest (London: Andre Deutsch). VLACHOS, H. (1972), ‘The Colonels and the Press’, in: R. Clogg & G. Yannopoulos, Greece Under Military Rule (New York: Basic Books, Inc., Publishers), pp. 59-74. VOULI TON ELLINON (1977), Βουλή των Ελλήνων: ∆ιεύθυνσις ∆ιοικητικού Τµήµα Μητρώου Βουλευτών, Μητρώον Γερουσιαστών και Βουλευτών [Register of Senators and Members of Parliament] (Athens: Ethnikon Typografeio). WATT, D. C. (1971), ‘Towards a Neutral Balkans?’, in: The World Today, 27(8): 359-64. WHEELER, M. (1967), ‘Greece: Grapes of Wrath’, in: The World Today, 23(6): 231-9. — (1968), ‘The Next Phase in Greece’, in: The World Today, 24(1): 4-9. WOODHOUSE, C.M. (1961), British Foreign Policy Since the Second World War (London: Hutchinson & Co.). — (1972), ‘The ‘Revolution’ in its Historical Context’, in: R. Clogg & G. Yannopoulos, Greece Under Military Rule (New York: Basic Books, Inc., Publishers), pp. 1-16. — (1985a), The Rise and Fall of the Greek Colonels (New York: Franklin Watts). — (1985b), Apple of Discord: A Survey of Recent Greek Politics in their International Setting (Reston, Virginia: W. B. O’Neill). (Reprinted. First published 1948.)

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— (1991), Modern Greece: A Short History. 5th edn (London & Boston: Faber & Faber). XATZIS, D. (1999), ∆. Χατζής, Το Τέλος της Μικρής µας Πόλης: ∆ιηγήµατα [The End of Our Small City: Short Stories] (n.p.: To Rodakio). XYDIS, A. G. (1972), ‘The Military Regime’s Foreign Policy’, in: R. Clogg & G. Yannopoulos, Greece Under Military Rule (New York: Basic Books, Inc., Publishers), pp. 191-209. XYDIS, S. G. (1974), ‘Coups and Countercoups in Greece, 1967-1973 (with postscript)’, in: Political Science Quarterly, 89(3): 507-38. YACOËL, A. (1990-1991), ‘Αναµνήσεις ενός Ελληνοεβραίου (Συνέντευξη)’ [Memories of a Greek Jew (Interview)], in: Το Γιοφύρι: Περιοδικό Νεοελληνικών Σπουδών [To Yiofiri: Periodical of Modern Greek Studies] (Sydney: University of Sydney), pp. 44-54. YANNAS, P. M. (1994), ‘Containment Discourse and the Construction of Post-World War II Greece’, in: Thetis: Mannheimer Beiträge zur Klassischen Archäologie und Geschichte Griechenlands und Zyperns [Thetis: Mannheimer’s Contribution to the Classical Archaeology and History of Greece and Cyprus] (Mannheim, Germany: Mannheim University). YANNOPOULOS, G. (1972), ‘The State of the Opposition Forces Since the Military Coup’, in: R. Clogg & G. Yannopoulos, Greece Under Military Rule (New York: Basic Books, Inc., Publishers), pp. 163-90. YECHR, Yearbook of the European Convention on Human Rights (1969), The 1967 European Commission and European Court of Human Rights, 10 (The Hague, Netherlands: Martinus Nijhoff). — (1970), The 1968 European Commission and European Court of Human Rights, 11 (The Hague, Netherlands: Martinus Nijhoff). — (1971), The 1969 European Commission and European Court of Human Rights, 12 (The Hague, Netherlands: Martinus Nijhoff).

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— (1972a), The European Commission and European Court of Human Rights, The (The Hague, Netherlands: Martinus Nijhoff). — (1972b), The 1970 European Commission and European Court of Human Rights, 13 (The Hague, Netherlands: Martinus Nijhoff). — (1973), The 1971 European Commission and European Court of Human Rights, 14 (The Hague, Netherlands: Martinus Nijhoff). ZAHAROPOULOS, G. (1972), ‘Politics and the Army in Post-War Greece’, in: R. Clogg & G. Yannopoulos, Greece Under Military Rule (New York: Basic Books, Inc., Publishers), pp. 17-35.

Newspapers, Magazines, Journals: Efimeris tis Kyverniseos, Η Εφηµερίς της Κυβερνήσεως, April 1967- December 1973 (Athens: Government Printing Press). The Economist, ‘No Confidence in Olympus’, 1 November 1969, p. 76. — ‘Iron Hand Ungloved’, 8 November 1969, p. 38-41. — ‘Thank You, Ari, and Goodbye’, 13 November 1971, pp. 91-2. — ‘One Man’s Belief’, 14 October 1972, p. 47. — ‘Quiet Death of a Kingdom’, 9 June 1973, pp. 36-8. — ‘The Colonels Will Need Quite a New Complexion’, 23 June 1973, pp. 49-51. — ‘The Two Sides of It’s Mouth’, 22 December 1973, p. 32. — ‘Home from Home No Longer’, 22 December 1973, pp. 32-4. Ta Nea, Τα Νέα, 26 November 1973 (Athens: Journalistic Organisation Lambrakis), p. 1. O Oikonomikos Taxydromos, Ο Οικονοµικός Ταχυδρόµος, August- September 1974 (Athens: Journalistic Organisation Lambrakis). O Taxydromos, Ο Ταχυδρόµος, December 1972-February 1973 (Athens: Journalistic Organisation Lambrakis). To Vima, Το Βήµα, February 1963-April 1980 (Athens: Journalistic Organisation Lambrakis).

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The World Today (London: The Royal Institute of International Affairs, ).

Interviews: Papachelas, A. (Dec. 1996), Α. Παπαχελάς, Interview with Constantine Mitsotakis (Athens: Mega, Oi Fakeloi). Karatzaferis, G. (n.d), Γ. Καρατζαφέρης, Interview with Stylianos Pattakos (Athens: ΤΗΛΕΑΣΤV).

339 Emmanuela Mikedakis