Prior to the incident, it was believed that the Iconoclast heresy, which disturbed the Greek Orthodox Church for centuries, had been extirpated once and for all by the Empress Theodora (of blessed memory) in 842 A.D. Responsibilty for this recent act of violence, however, was claimed by an organization which called itself the Nihilist-Iconoclasts. Atavism being a common feature of the Greek heritage, one could not dismiss out of hand the recurrence of a politico-religious phenomenon after the interval of a thousand years. It was the coupling of “iconoclast” with “nihilist” which puzzled churchmen as well as the police. An iconoclast, far from believing in nothing, is a zealot who goes about destroying religious images in the belief they are opposed by Biblical teaching. It was the opinion of a priest in the Cathedral’s service that the verbal contradiction was a deliberate one to make the fanatical organization’s name sound more striking to the public ear. Others felt that the senseless act was due to a furious disappointment on the part of the organization’s members that the world did not succumb to the Jupiter Effect as had been promised two days earlier.
Two possibly related events were recorded by the investigators. On the same evening as the bombing, the civil marriage bill had been debated in Parliament and it was recalled by priests that the liturgy at the Metropolitan had been briefly disturbed the previous Sunday by a few shouts of “Down with Masonry!” For many months now there has been a good deal of anti-Masonic material published in the press following the well-known 1980 scandal in Italy with allegations that it was connected with junta elements here.
Three days later, similar bombs exploded at the entrances of two branches of Citibank in Athens, and the possibility of sabotage or a connection between the bombings was being explored by the police. What iconoclasts may have against Citibank, however, has officials stumped. Metaphorically speaking, all banks may be thought to trade in graven images, but it seems pointlessly random to pick out Citibank, rather than, say, the Arab-Hellenic Bank or Barclay’s, as overly worshipful of the Golden Calf. The only widely publicized use of images this year made by Citibank has been the free distribution of a richly illustrated pamphlet entitled Invitation to Dinner, a cause not for sabotage but for celebration.
…and Acts of Love
The publication Invitation to Dinner (with love from Citibank), is an alpha-to-omega guide for the hostess in Athens who aspires to give the most brilliant receptions in town. This booklet is to be recommended particularly to the wives of recently arrived foreign diplomats and business executives who may not have realized yet that the only foolproof way to total Athenian social success is via the tummy.
The social and political importance of being able to turn out a lavish spread at midday or in the evening is bound to become even more significant in the future than it has in the past. There are a number of interlocking reasons for this. Firstly, PASOK deputies, after many lean years in exile and opposition, have even heartier appetites than their New Democracy predecessors; secondly, they are dying to break into society; and, thirdly, it will have been noticed that much state business these days is being contracted over a “working lunch”, and in Athens that means working at lunch. Finally, and most significantly, the President, the Prime Minister and other ministers have recently been making so many globe-trotting visits everywhere that local hostesses are very pressed in entertaining vast numbers of dignitaries and their delegations on return calls.
Invitation to Dinner gets right down to the nitty-gritty: check the tablecloths, count the flatsilver, engage the waiters and make an appointment at the hairdressers’ at least two weeks in advance. In fact, the detailed countdown timetable to social blast-off, as it is herein scheduled, makes a Cape Kennedy space event seem like a picnic.
While leading the reader through the exotic Athenian social jungle, the booklet does not let a single ensnaring faux pas go unidentified: how to set the table; how to choose and serve the wine; how to introduce important guests – Ministers first, Academicians second (if they survive cocktails), Supreme Court Justices third; how to choose lively subjects for conversation (the nefos first, traffic congestion second – hobbies held in common only as a last resort); how to get the guests to the table; how to get them away from the table without calling the police; and how to get them out of the house before four in the morning short of simulating a six-plus Richter earthquake.
A single omission might be pointed out: don Υ conceal the dinner roll in the folds of the napkin (as many Athenian hostesses do) for some unwary guest, opening his serviette with a flourish, may send it rocketing across the dining room, resulting in half the Cabinet’s flying for cover under the table and you and your spouse’s being transferred to a less desirable post.
With this trusty handbook well in grip, you can happily survive your two-year, love-hate sojourn in Athens, The Cultural Corsair of the Airwaves Manos Hadzidakis, the famous composer and conductor, has long been a creative and controversial figure on the National Radio.
Appointed General Director of ERT shortly after the return of democracy, Hadzidalds retained this post for a year, resigned after quarreling with the state-owned company’s Board of Directors, and took over the network’s cultural Third Program.
At this time, the Third Program’s cultural tone rarely rose higher than the presentation of The Poet and Peasant Overture. Given great leeway and independence, however, Hadzidakis soon transformed the Third Program into a high-level, culturally various public service with a wide audience. The educative effect on its listeners over the last six years is inestimable but no doubt very great. Hadzidakis’ personal style, however, continuously aroused animosity in the press with accusations of obscenity, cultural snobbism and arbitrariness.
The socialist government, while massively reorganizing ERT after it came to power last October, retained Hadzidakis in his post until his contentious and stubborn independence began to cloy on the new directors, and after new controversies, Hadzidakis was fired last month. If people felt that the dismissal of Hadzidalds from ERT spelled the end of an era (in disappointment or relief), it seems now they may all be wrong. On March 19, shortly after his dismissal, Hadzidakis announced that he was starting an experimental station of his own. Telling journalists that he had applied for a permit from the Ministry of Justice to do so, Hadzidalds blandly added that if his application is rejected, he will go ahead with it anyway. Making much of the homonymous similarity between piramatikos (experimental) and piratikos (pirate), the press made much of his possible new role as the cultural corsair of the airwaves.
Hadzidakis would not reveal who was his backer (“It takes little money to do this kind of thing.”); nor who his collaborators would be; nor, of course, the whereabouts of the lair from which he would operate. He did say that he planned to begin with music, expand later into other cultural fields and eventually publish a magazine detailing future programs. “Though I am a politically oriented person, my station will be apolitical.”
Commenting on his dismissal from the Third Program, Hadzidakis said with characteristic aplomb, “I did not stay to obey other people’s orders, and I never did so in my life.”
