It is to Mr Karamanlis’ credit that at the age of 81 he has not faded into the role of some sweet and garrulous elder statesman but can quite snappily distill the ethnic situation into so few words, tailoring a neat grammatical straight-jacket that so perfectly fits the national figure.
If one had any lingering doubt that the former president and prime minister might be exaggerating, this was dispelled a few days later. It took place after Prime Minister Papandreou and his courtesan, Dimitra Liani, had served as sponsors at the wedding of PASOK stalwart, Constantine Skandalidis (sic). At the wedding feast which followed the nuptials the National Fiancee astonished her listeners by drawing a pointed parallel with the glorious past.
“The spirit of Pericles and of Aspasia,” she said, “who loved to scorn social taboos and conventional standards of behavior has returned 2000 years later.”
What reaction this stupendous statement caused at the table was certainly not revealed by the government spokesman, but it must have caused the greatest sensation at a wedding feast since the water was changed into wine at the marriage at Cana.
“Aspasia,” Dimitra Liani went on, “was accused of trying to poison Pericles but he himself appeared in her defense in court and she was acquitted.”
It is not quite clear why Ms Liani made this last statement as it is not very a propos to talk of poisoning in the middle of dinner. She surely had no reason to feel defensive. Obviously, she doles out the pills and the siropi to the prime minister just as it says to do on the labels or as Dr Kremastinos directs. As for there being any implication that she may be taken to court, it must be some sort of joke. Will there be any more court cases in Greece after awhile if there are no more judges alive to preside over them?
Furthermore, according to official reports the prime minister is fit as a fiddle. In fact, just as if to prove it, he came out of a recent check-up saying he was perfectly fine even before the tests had been examined. Any alarm about his cardiogram is simply laughable. Like any other patient he lay down, had the jelly and the cathodes and anodes or whatever placed on his wrists and ankles and chest, when it was discovered, lo and behold, that there was no cardiogram paper! Aides were sent in all directions. There was no cardiogram paper in the hospital (Athens General). Limousines flew to the next hospital (Sotiria).
Cardiogram paper was demanded. It existed but it was locked up in a supply room. The key was in the hands of its keeper. Where was he? He was out. He was at a funeral. The aides smashed down the door and found the paper was locked in a cabinet. So they smashed that, too. Two-and-a-half hours later the prime minister’s heart rhythm was found to be in excellent order. One possibly can hear official voices replying patiently to Mr Karamanlis: “Athens General and Sotiria are not madhouses. They are great monuments to ESY (socialized medicine).”
But let’s not dwell on the shortcomings of science and get down to the truths of the spirit. It is reassuring to know that someone up there, or at least cuddling up close to someone who is up there, is a person deeply read in history. Rumor has it that for a week, the prime minister spent most of his time trying to find out who leaked the statement about Aspasia to the press. And well he might, for that magician of political surprise could – and may still -use it with great effect in the upcoming elections.
Every Greek, and every foreigner in Greece during the 1985 elections, will remember the irresistible Annoula, that simpering child in the organdy frock who tripped onto the balcony over Syntagma and gave a posie to the beaming prime minister and a little wave to the laos down there frantically waving billons of plastic green flags, and right then the heart melted in the breast of the fiercest Hellene and PASOK ratings went right through the roof.
So, imagine now early in June of this year, the prime minister suddenly appearing before the crowds, wearing the characteristic helmet of Pericles, and she at his side in a Courrege-designed chiton and, even, members of the National Theatre striking Golden Age poses, and in a rousing speech (written, of course, by Ms Liani, just as Aspasia was said to have composed his famous Funeral Oration), Mr Papandreou will not be just proclaiming better days as in the past but the return of the Golden Age itself. Then one can see on ET 1 (and 2) but maybe not on Super, the nefos rising in homage up. and out of sight and the black figures of Mitsotakis, Florakis, Kyrkos and Stefanopoulos scuttling offstage, hissing, “Rats! Foiled again.”
In her statements last month, Ms Liani did not (probably out of diplomatic tact) say something she and many scholars know only too well – though by no means all of those at that bridal table, who have suffered by going through the PASOK school system.
It’s simply the naked truth: Pericles did get a divorce; Aspasia did become his common-law wife; they did have a child; and Pericles did see to that child’s being legitimized. Is it so difficult to project an image (about one-third of the way through the next century when Greeks are psychologically ready for their first female prime minister) and imagine a handsome young woman getting into politics with attractive, slanting eyes, an ample bosom and the Papandreou name – and not winning by a landslide?
Maybe it’s time to recall the strict words of Mr Karamanlis. Greece may be a country that encourages fantasy, but even here, when the imagination seems to get out of hand, there are little men and women in white who whisk people away.
