Mr Anghelopoulos called on him to use his prestige to impress on all political leaders and the Greek people the urgent need for implementing a national strategy for pulling the country out of its doldrums.
Similar to one of those old Washington DC ‘dolIar-a-year’ men, like Bernie Baruch, who advised presidents from a park bench, Mr Anghelopoulos is wonderfully wise on all subjects and therefore infuriates everybody.
“Improperly informed about the severity of the country’s economic condition,” he said, “the Greek people live hypnotized in a consumer, deficit-ridden society, and Τ am afraid that besides the people, who are ignorant and perhaps indifferent, the country’s political leadership is not fully aware of the seventy of the situation, either. The exception is the President of the Republic.” Kokkaio, as they say.
He had reason to be afraid. Next day, a great howl rose over the land from the press, left and right, and the satirical sheets had a merry time of it. The political leadership, seen collectively as Messers Mitsotakis, Papandreou and Florakis are often referred to as ‘dinosaurs’, partly because they are a bit long in the tooth and partly because they express attitudes that are thought of as antediluvian.
If so, Professor Anghelopoulos and the President, who celebrated a happy 84th birthday party with the Macedonian Society (without participation of Slavs) at the Hilton on March 9, must be creatures of an age even prior to the reptiles and therefore express opinions that are, to be geologically precise, Paleozoic.
“Mr Anghelopoulos’ perceptions,” the government fumed, “befit the Third World countries. Greece,” it added primly, “is a member of the European Community (surprise, surprise) and operates in accordance with the regulations and with Community assistance whenever this is deemed necessary”(a long-winded way of saying that, when out begging, we wear a necktie).
With a note of desperation, Alternate National Economy Minister Efthymios Christodoulou (always happier at the Foreign Office) wondered, “1 am not certain that Professor Anghelopoulos had the right to address such an appeal to the Head of State.”
Of course this flap would never have arisen had not Paleozoic professor Anghelopoulos hit the nail on its ethnic head.
True, one might contradict him on grounds that there are very large numbers of well-informed Greeks who believe that theirs is not a Third, but a Fourth, World country, and, when asked if it is developed, developing or underdeveloped, say quite authoritatively that it is mal-developed.
It might not be a bad idea to implement Mr Anghelopoulos’ plea for a national strategy with a new image, starting with an obvious source of enormous foreign revenue: tourism. There, it might be a good idea for cab drivers to stop ripping off foreign passengers going into town from the airport (first impressions are notoriously the most lasting), to smarten up sloppy appearances and boorish manners in the infrastructure, and to do something about the rubbish that litters this land from the frontiers of Albania to Cape Matapan, so that potential philhellenes of the future can enjoy a picnic somewhere without being half-buried in trash.
One might even suggest that ERT1 or 2 film the prestigious Mr Karamanlis picking up a discarded Ion chocolate wrapper and putting it in a trash-bin in front of the Presidential Mansion. Prime Minister Macmillan and President Truman on their morning strolls did so with great national effect. Are Greeks so Third (or Fourth) World that they would consider it merely eccentric?
It is possible that if the ‘dinosaurs’ of Left and Right, Professor Anghelopoulos and the President of the Republic, acted in the belief that the Greek people were great big boys and girls, maybe they would start acting that way.
The King of the Reptiles of the 1980s, Papandreou Tyrannicus and Erectus, can’t be much of a help right now. The image of PASOK’s way of governing which emerges from the ongoing Koskotas trial is looking pretty tacky and anachronistic already. Time seems to have favored the side of the mammals.
What to do? Turkish travel posters reveal pretty girls splashing around in water-holes under the great Hellenistic ruins of Hierapoiis. Iberian ads say, “Manoula mou, Greek food tastes better with Spanish olive oil.”
Silly images, to say the least, but doesn’t Romios blood boil at such things? Yet it is more productive than playing Pro-Po and Lotto whose winnings each week could take a big bite out of the national debt, and worthier than spraining an ankle in a neglected hole on a pavement when rushing from Rive Gauche to All The Colors of Benetton on today’s furious buying binge.
Surely, among the around ten million descendants of wily Odysseus whose noses were counted up on Census Sunday on March 19, can’t better questions be thought up – and answers – than how many windows we have in our bathrooms?
To paraphrase a lyric of the immortal Barbra Streisand: “‘Pleeeeeeeese, President Karamanlis, give us Greek guys and gals a new national strategy to live by.”
