So, when a local newspaper on June 13 announced that a new plan had been worked out which would solve these problems definitively, the reaction should have been one of jubilation.
The report attributed the idea to the joint efforts of several ministries on orders deriving from the Prime Minister himself. In brief, the plan which is slated to go into effect in September breaks up the central area of the city into three general categories, commercial, residential and mixed. According to this scheme, every Athenian will be defined by his place of domicile, by his place of work, and by his working hours. This information will be compiled and the results issued on cards which drivers must carry, to determine both the route by which he will be allowed to pass through the center of the city and the time at which this takes place.
The reaction to this exciting and original idea, it must be admitted, was mixed, with a loud section of the press branding it as “a nightmare scenario”, “a mad concoction of technocratic brains divorced from reality”, and a “robot view of humanity on the part of self-styled superdemocrats”. In so many dire words, the opposition implied that Orwell’s 1984 was arriving in Athens two years ahead of time by means of a few, autocratic shortcuts hacked through the socialist underbrush.
The reference in the report to central residential areas as “beehives” probably was unfortunate, bringing back uneasy memories under the junta when Athens as a whole in some crack-pot city-plan, was referred to as “a happy beehive”. On the other hand, to give the plan a fair hearing, it may only be a poetic reference to Athens in its pre-industrial, pie-nefos innocence when bees swarmed on the slopes of Mt. Hymettus and honey was Attica’s chief export.
Nevertheless, the plan specifically states that the cards carrying this information will be defined by color, a very un-Orwellian touch far removed from the drab world of 1984. The only reason to pause here is the awakening of yet another uneasy memory, this time under a New Democracy government, when an attempt to solve the traffic and parking problems by painting different colored lines on various streets in central Athens led to complete, if gaudy, confusion.
The processing of the cards in question and the implementation of the plan, however, may even tax the considerable ingenuity of the present streamlined government now shorn of so much bureaucratic fat. Consider a person who lives in Kaisariani (red), working in Peristeri (white), passing through central Athens during the day (blue) or on the night-shift (black); or someone in Psychico who works in Syntagma (green) going down in the morning (yellow), returning for lunch at noon (orange), setting out again in the afternoon (ochre), and going back again (burnt sienna). Multiply this by twenty-four residential beehives, a swarm of commercial areas and a wide variety of possible routes by which each busy bee will buzz to the “blossom” of his work, and it is clear that the traffic police merely to be able to read the subtle variations of color on these cards will require a doctorate degree in art history.
Furthermore, as some critics have pointed out, defining a person’s life in Athens as determined by his place of work when breadearners are still overwhelmingly male is totally undemocratic, anti-social and sexist. Women are still the major buyers and shops in Athens depend almost wholly on them, so they, too, shall have to have their own cards; i.e, shopping in Patission (lavender), lunch in Kolonaki (royal blue), bridge party in Ambelokipi (purple), etc., etc.
One major improvement on the plan has been already suggested: instead of printing cards, have the cars themselves painted in the proper hues, the boot painted in the “home” color and the bonnet in the “work” color and the “route” colors on the doors. It would make identification for the police much simpler, and it would give Hie city that extra dimension of fun and flair which all Athenians yearn for and which may even re-invigorate the sagging tourist trade.
And what if, as the mean-spirited opposition claims, half the inhabitants of the inner city moves out if the plan is put in effect? Pollution and traffic problems will be resolved, the government’s decentralized program will be accomplished, and Big Brother, arriving here two years hence, will find Athens happily living in 1984 BC.
‘Forever Fest’
The Mediterranean Forever and Today Conference, sponsored by the French and Greek Ministries of Culture, opened on Hydra on Friday, May 21, when over fifty artists, writers and intellectuals from ten Mediterranean countries and Portugal arrived at midday on the cruise ship Argonaut. On the previous evening a large reception, also organized by the two Ministries, had been held at the National Gallery in Athens and attended by participants at the conference and many prominent figures of the city’s cultural life. A surprise guest was the Turkish film director, Yilmaz Guney, a refugee from his country making his first visit to Greece. In a spirit of reconciliation, he said to journalists, “Some day the Greek and Turkish people will recognize who the enemy is — imperialism.” Melina Mercouri and Jacques Lang, however, were the stars of the intellectual cast, and the French Minister of Culture was claimed to match his Greek counterpart in charm and talkativeness.
In keeping with the goals of the conference, which Mercouri had described beforehand as promoting cultural unity and paving the way for overall cooperation, the meeting on Hydra was celebrated with high-spirited informahty. Clad in blue jeans, Jacques Lang accepted flowers from pretty island girls, and Melina joined up with the Greek Prime Minister’s son, MP George Papandreou, in dancing the syrtaki. The first day of the conference was slightly dampened by a report that the Beethoven concert at the ancient theater of Epidaurus — the cultural climax to the conference — might have to be cancelled because of a technicians’ strike. President Karamanlis on the same day regretted that an unforeseen obstacle would prevent him from attending the event. (The President’s partiality for Beethoven is a well-attested fact.)
As the appearance of the French Prime Minister, Pierre Mauroy, at the conference on May 22 was informal in nature, he was not greeted at the Athens Airport by Mr. Papandreou, although Melina Mercouri, on a quick trip back to the mainland, was in attendance along with other government officials and a large number of police who, half an hour before the plane landed from Paris, searched the airport arrival lounge for the possibility of a concealed bomb. Prime Minister Mauroy, however, was taken by helicopter north of Athens to confer with President Karamanlis on general Mediterranean issues before leaving for Hydra that evening.
At midday on Sunday, Prime Minister and Mrs. Papandreou arrived at Hydra on board the yacht of the General Secretary of The National Tourist Organization, Mr. Panagopoulos. Although the yacht Marilou II (referred to in the pro-government press as a “sailing vessel”) sported both the home port and flag of Panama, Mr. Papandreou reassured members attending the conference that he looked forward to a Mediterranean without foreign fleets, foreign military bases and without racial discrimination. In lack of a Greek flag, it was noted, any other Mediterranean flag would have been more appropriate. The conference’s business concluded with grand ambitions — the establishment of a Mediterranean University — and rhe-torical flourishes, such as the words of one delegate, “Like the mad Heinrich Schliernann, we trust in the truths of our poets.”
Since by early Sunday it was clear that the threatened technicians’ strike would not take place at Epidaurus, the French and Greek Prime Ministers continued by sea to Nauplia where they were greeted by throngs of admirers. The Beethoven Concert consisted of the Septet played by a Cypriot violinist, an Israeli violist, a French cellist, a Greek clarinetist, a Yugoslav bassoonist, an Italian horn player and a Turkish bass player. It concluded with the Ninth Symphony played by the Philharmonic Orchestra of French Radio and the Chorus of the Greek National Opera under the baton of Luis Navarro. To capture the full flavor of the concert, which was the cultural zenith of the Mediterranean Forever and Today Conference, a first-hand account follows:
“On Sunday the crowds started arriving around noon. I have not been to Epidaurus enough times to know what sorts of people generally go there but it did strike me that all the children and grandmothers, the picnickers and the drivers from whose cars laika tragoudia blared, were not really the kind of people one would have thought were interested in Beethoven. Yet as the afternoon progressed, it became more and more crowded, and by 8:30 the huge ancient theater was full.
“Around 9:15, with much ado, Prime Minister Papandreou and Minister of Culture Mercouri came in, waving and blowing kisses and making the victory sign. One whole section of the audience was waving green flags, and from another came a chorus of PASOK slogans which seemed somewhat out of place. Melina Mercouri then got up on the stage along with Mr. Lang and announced the program, the conductor and the soloists. Most of this could not be heard because of the sixteen or seventeen thousand people cheering her every word. Just as the concert was about to begin, the fifty-or-so delegates from Hydra arrived — why so late, no one knew. They were led directly to the front rows, but by this time the places had all been filled. As a result, fifty ticket-holders had to be unseated and sent up to the top where it was difficult to accommodate them.
During the Septet, it was still noisy with members of the audience wandering around or talking and babies crying. Despite attempts by the police and the knowledgeable few to hush the gathering, the audience clapped with gusto between each movement. There was also a constant stream of people leaving from the top of the theater and escaping into the woods. Apparently, they had seen and cheered their leader and that was enough for them.
“Then came the Ninth. During the First Movement, the house came down when the tympani began playing — perhaps the audience expected dancing elephants or bears to come on. The cheering started again after the First Movement, and one person impressed by the size of the orchestra and chorus cried out, ‘That’s a big bouzouki.’
“Later I heard — I don’t know if it’s true — that the authorities had no idea how many people would turn up, and to impress the French, they had sent out trucks to neighboring villages to collect as many people as possible. I also heard that too many invitations had been sent out by people more experienced with political rallies and sport stadiums, so that those who had arrived after 8:30 with purchased tickets or ministerial invitations, like the delegates from Hydra, found no vacant seats at all.”
As the last strains of Schiller’s Hymn to Joy floated across the theater’s patches of green and faded into the hills of Argolid, The Mediterranean Forever and Today Conference became a part of that sea’s rich and varied history. Thirty years ago, Albert Camus wrote that the conflict between German dreams and Mediterranean reality was a central issue in the twentieth century. But as Beethoven and Epidaurus rapturously mingled last month, the conflict seemed resolved, with dreams and reality indistinguishably mixed.
