Not long before we left, the serenity of our offices had been disturbed by armoured cars zooming up Loukianou with sirens wailing in a manner worthy of five-alarm fires in Tokyo, London or New York. A glance down Loukianou had reassured us that the demonstration was progressing uneventfully. They had probably been watching ‘Kojak’ and ‘Hawai 5-0’ on television we had decided and went back to work.
As we descended Loukianou all was peaceful. A handful of bored-looking policemen stood outside the British Ambassador’s residence. In front of us three very old ladies chattered away. ‘We’ll go to my house,” one said. To Kyria Maria’s,’ said another, as they delicately made the descent, clinging to each other not to slip on the glassy sidewalk.
At Vasilisis Sofias we stopped to watch the marchers. There was a preponderance of youth and a fair number of middle-aged. Some marchers held infants in their arms. Others carried banners proclaiming their organization or their affiliations. Some munched on biscuits. Occasionally a leader with a megaphone called out a slogan and the marchers half-heartedly but dutifully repeated it.
Some held arms, others walked alone, or talked to each other as they proceeded. An old man limped along supported by two boys. The streets were lined with people stopping to watch on their way home. Our three old ladies were still chattering as they waited for a break in the procession to allow them to cross.
We were about to move on when a few figures darted through the crowds running against the direction of the march. Before we could figure out why they were running, several armoured cars (they look like small tanks on wheels), seemed to appear out of nowhere. They drove into the ranks of the advancing marchers, and tossed tear gas canisters right and left. People began to panic and to run in all directions. We turned and began to dash back up Loukianou. When we reached the British Ambassador’s, the police were still standing there calmly. (Our eyes were smarting, but they seemed unaffected.) We did not make the few short blocks to our office because by the time we reached the next corner the armoured cars were driving up Loukianou and tear gas bombs were exploding all around us. Blinded, furious, helpless, we sought refuge in a nearby apartment. When we looked out the window, the march had resumed. (The contingents further back and around the bend in the road had continued along the route oblivious to the activity up ahead, we were later told.) Within minutes there were once again hordes staggering up the hill in hopeless attempts to escape. Doors were locked and shutters rolled down along the street. Below us, a middle-aged matron and a younger woman holding on to each other floundered up the hill. An armoured car drove by; two tear gas bombs were neatly tossed at their feet. At the entrance to a building the door was smashed as people frantically tried to get off the streets. Sometime later we stumbled home, our faces red, our eyes puffed up and tearing, feeling as though we had been delivered one immense, unprovoked mountza. Tear gas sounds harmless enough but it is, we decided, a vicious weapon. Someone stopped us and suggested we apply vaseline and camomile tea to our eyes. We were about to say that we don’t normally carry these things in our pockets but seeing his sympathetic look said merely, ‘Thank you’. An old woman came up to us and wiping tears from her cheek asked, ‘Am I mistaken or is there something wrong with the atmosphere tonight?’
Afew blocks from our office a friend heard a commotion and went down to see what was happening. By the time he reached Irodou Attikou and Vasilisis Sofias everything seemed normal. The youth branch of Mr. Karamanlis’ New Democratic Party was marching past chanting, ‘Ellas, Ellas, Demokratia!’ Suddenly some of the marchers from up ahead came running towards them from the opposite direction. As they raced by some yelled to the Nea Demokratia Youth to go back while others took the opportunity to deliver a few insults. The Nea Demokratia group who only a few minutes before had turned up Vasilisis Sofias from Constitution Square were momentarily perplexed. Apparently concluding that they were being challenged by the ‘opposition’, they closed ranks and began to sing, J Ellada Pote Then Petheni(Greece will never die). In a few moments the armoured cars were zooming towards them. As they began to grasp what was happening they abandoned their song and started to chant, Imaste OH Enomeni (We are all united). Then they, too, scattered.
ACROSS from the American Embassy several American and Greek teenagers watched the demonstrators march by. The police on guard outside the Embassy stood in a single line, they report, ‘…an arms length apart… Even a stray dog could have run between them without getting caught.’ According to their account a young man lit a flag and raced past the guards heading towards the Embassy. Some of the police broke ranks and raced after him, delivered a few blows and carried him off. (They insist that clubs were used but this has been officially denied.) The crowds moved forward; the extremists moved towards the Embassy. The young Americans began to run. From high up behind the embassy the armoured cars shot missiles and all around canisters of tear gas began to explode. Their eyes tearing, they raced towards Mihalakopoulou Street where they sought refuge in a hotel. In the restaurant the eyes of the elegantly attired Athenians began to run as the ‘fumes’ seeped into the hotel. Make-up ran down the women’s faces and they headed for the powder room.
DEMONSTRATIONS seem to have become a way of life in most parts of the world and most people have grown impatient with them. Well organized protests can in some instances effectively awaken society to injustices that might otherwise be ignored. Repeated and random protests, however, cease at some point to have any effect and antagonize those whose support might otherwise be won through other methods. They invite extremist behaviour and provide opportunities for provocateurs.
The ways in which individuals react and function in a crowd have been carefully analyzed and studied by social scientists. All such gatherings are potentially explosive. A mass of people acting as a group may be provoked or driven to violent actions, and the police, also functioning as a group, are just as susceptible to these forces.
It now seems clear that a comparatively small number of those who participated in the April 21 demonstration were responsible for the violence. It seems equally clear that the police failed to take adequate measures to forestall and control such an eventuality. Whatever the reasons, the failure is indefensible and should not be countenanced.
No Porn at The Pigalle
‘EROTIC films are boring.’ This not-so-extraordinary statement was certainly not made by the hundred thousand Athenians who saw Emmanuelle last month nor by the Public Prosecutor who closed it after a week, but by the film’s star, Sylvia Kristel — an unlikely name conjuring up the image of that other soft-porn scandal of yesteryear, the topless fairy in the White Rock ad, which our American readers will remember.
Opening in Athens at fourteen cinema houses simultaneously (including, appropriately, the Pigalle), Emmanuelle sold forty-thousand tickets on the first night. This unprecedented popularity was partly due to the publicity which made it clear that it was ‘safe’, respectable and even fashionable to see. A large number of elegant and elderly, for instance, were present in the audiences, despite difficulties in walking, failing eye-sight and other infirmities. Anyway, it was generally Known that the possibly offensive ‘cigarette’ scene, like the ‘butter’ scene in Last Tango, had been cut.
In the last six months porno films have flooded Athens in the dry wake of the puritanical Junta, and yet the Public Prosecutor’s moral indignation fell on the moderately flaccid Emmanuelle.
First of all, the Union of the Association of Parents of Greek Students sent heated telegrams to Karamanlis, Mavros, Papandreou and various ecclesiastics stating that the cinema situation in Athens was producing ‘unbearable agony’ for them. They begged for protection. Meanwhile, the writer Pavlos Matessis (who hastily assured his readers that he had not seen Emmanuelle — ‘Life is too short,’ he said, ‘and the point of it is to act not to see.’) noted in print that those waiting in line pretending to be going to an art film seemed indecently impatient, while inquiries to those leaving the theatre revealed that no one could remember the story.
So, on the morning of April 16, the prosecution trial opened. Professor Lykourezos, the defense lawyer — he had been on the committee that had first approved the film — requested a postponement due to the absence of many illustrious figures of the Greek art world who were expected to plead that Emmanuelle was a Serious Contribution to Modern Culture.
The postponement was not granted. A committee of three was appointed to pass judgment. One was the well known painter, Yannis Moralis. Ί don’t believe that Emmanuelleis great,’ Moralis said. ‘It is mediocre. I believe, however, that it should be freely shown so that the public can judge for itself. Censorship should only concern itself with age-groups.’ He went on to say that he thought there was nothing dangerous or fake or obscene about the film and that porno films should be allowed a viewing so that the public could get fed up with them in a normal and healthy manner.
Another member of the committee, Mr. Bakatsoulis, Professor of Law, hotly disagreed. A dialogue flared up between him and Mr. Lykourezos far more dramatic than anything that had been heard in those fourteen cinema houses. In part it went like this:
Bakatsoulis: Lesbianism will be the ruin of Greece! The birth rate will plummet!
Lykourezos: As a woman, did she appeal to you?
B: I will not answer that.
L: Did you like the music?
Β: No! I only listen to classical music.
L: Did you enjoy the landscapes?
B: There were no landscapes!
L: Did you see Bergman’s The Silence?
B: No! … I don’t go to the movies!
L: Then you are not one to judge—
B: Yes, I am! … The photography and direction were no good.
L: Are all love scenes immoral?
B: Yes, unless the couple is married. And the restricted age rating should be raised to twenty-five!
Meanwhile the Athens News reported that, ‘In their anxiety to be absolutely fair, the Court of Justice…. …. moved at 10:00 a.m. to the Cinema Orpheus and saw the entire film from beginning to end in a most attentive manner.’ Our interest in Emmanuelle momentarily vanished and was quickly replaced by an insatiable curiosity about what happened at the Orpheus. The report continued:
“There was a lot of heaving,” a journalist said afterwards. “The darkness was so complete that I could not spot which party of the trial was heaving most.”
In any case, the judges appeared quite sober on leaving the cinema. But they decided to relax a bit before sitting again.
Needless to say, the moralists rather than Moralis won the day. Far be it for us to pass judgment on all this heady stuff. We only wish to inform our readers that Miss Kristel intends to pursue a serious dramatic career. And where, we ask, might she pursue this more profitabbly than in Greece? It is, after all, the cradle of the dramatic arts, among other things, a good deal closer to home than Thailand, and it is, as all the posters truly say — The Land for all Seasons’.
A Seferis Chair at Harvard
HARVARD University has announced the establishment of a Professorship of Modern Greek Literature named in honour of the great Greek poet, George Seferis. The announcement, timed to coincide with what would have been Seferis’ 75th birthday, was made by Harvard President Derek Bok in a letter to Maro Seferis, the poet’s widow. The Seferis Chair will also be subsidized by many Greek-Americans. Harvard University has long shown an interest in furthering Modern Greek studies and has an extensive collection of Modern Greek books and manuscripts.
