Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are alive

For a decade July 24 has been observed as a day of national celebration. It commemorates the restoration of democracy which took place in 1974.

Following upon seven years and three months of military dictatorship and immediately after a two-week period of agony which saw a coup which overthrew President Makarios, the Turkish invasion of Cyprus and a call to national mobilization in Greece, the events of the evening of July 23 and the early morning of July 24 are vividly recalled in detail by all Greeks who today are of voting age. And there are some who are younger, for in those jubilant hours when the plane bearing Constantine Karamanlis from Paris touched down at Ellinikon Airport and the cavalcade swept the returning hero to Parliament where in the early hours of morning Mr Karamanlis and the Government of National Unity were sworn into office by the Archbishop, throngs of Athenians who lined the way remembered to bring along their young children in the knowledge that a jubilant moment of historical importance was taking place which they did not want their children ever to forget.

Every year since, on July 24, these events have been commemorated with a reception at the presidential mansion at which the great and the mighty have assembled in thanksgiving for the restoration of liberty. For five years these functions were presided over by President Tsatsos and for another five by President Karamanlis himself, as it was fitting that the Chief of State, ex officio, should fulfil this role. At these receptions, leaders of all parties of the left and the right were seen and photographed shaking hands and amicably chatting with one another, since, as it is well-known, the office of the presidency lies above mere political factionalism in its observance of democracy not only as a system of government but as a way of life.

This year, too, as on previous years, there was a reception at the presidential mansion for which the invitation was proffered by the President of the Hellenic Democracy and Mrs Sartzetakis. Another, more noticeable difference, is that former Presidents Tsatsos and Karamanlis were not invited.

Spokesmen for the presidency and the government explained this allaghi of protocol saying that frequent refusals to attend functions diminished the dignity of the office. Since both former chiefs of state had turned down invitations to a state dinner in honor of Bulgarian President Todor Zhivkov two nights earlier, they were not being invited again. It seems then that anyone who «regrets the kind invitation” will never have another opportunity to see the interior of the recently refurbished palace, since there seems to be no other connection between the present visit of the president of Bulgaria and the restoration of democracy in Greece eleven years ago.

To celebrate the events of 24 July 1974 without the protagonist this year was rather like substituting Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead for an annual production of Hamlet – though even in that monument of existentialist absurdity, at least Hamlet made a few passing appearances even if he didn’t say anything.

The present Prime Minister himself returned to Greece somewhat after the events of July 23-24, when Ellinikon Airport was safer than it was during those momentous days – or even than it was six weeks ago. But there will be ample opportunity in August to observe that day, too, with thanksgiving.

The Hamlet of Corfu

Gratitude has no place in the vocabulary of politics, but there is no place like the no-place in which parties find themselves when they have lost elections. Hence, for example, Mr Boutos, who is a Eurodeputy, after winning a seat with New Democracy resigned from the party and became an independent, since in this way he can keep his Euroseat as well. And although Eurodeputies earn their own salaries and Strasbourg is not a cheap place to live in, it’s unlikely that Mr Boutos would have followed the course he did had not New Democracy lost the elections. To the vanquished belong the spoiled.

But for the party that wins in the House, there are many mansions. The victor therefore must play the opposite game: filling the slots among the places that are open. Mr Papandreou spent much of his working vacation during July in Corfu brooding over who was to be or not to be in his cabinet. Meanwhile journalists spent all their non-vacation time in Athens trying to guess what he would do. One of the many reasons why Mr Papandreou is such attractive copy both here and abroad is that he can keep people forever conjecturing – which is what a good deal of journalism is about. And yet when they believe they have come up with every possibility, he turns around and proves them wrong. In turn, this provides the media with means for explaining the explanations. Thus, readers are kept amused, journalists remain gainfully employed and Mr Papandreou wins the publicity he wants: everyone is happy.

Even the name of the game that the Prime Minister was presumed to be playing in Corfu could not be agreed upon; hence the difficulty in even framing the rules. Some saw it as chess, some as poker; others as auction bridge and still others as building sandcastles.

There was not only a question of who’d fill what posts, but the posts themselves, and in what combination, were themselves open to question. For a time the Prime Minister has held the ministry of National Defense and the portfolio of Northern Greece – clearly a polymath of Renaissance dimensions. Mr Arsenis, likewise, has held the post of National Economy and the Merchant Marine – a combination which itself may be thought of as logical or as self-contradictory. In the case of Mr Kouloumbis, he has held so many posts at the same time as to win him the sobriquet ‘Kouloumbides’.

It will be recalled that PASOK in the past has had one of the largest cabinets of any government in the world and for the sake of bureaucratic economy, the Prime Minister has promised in so many words – and in so many words – to reduce the number. Yet the Prime Minister’s promises are, in effect, thoughts spoken out loud – a kind of soliloquy into whose deliberations he asks his audience to listen – a method, in fact, which has proved to be politically popular. So whatever his solutions may be, it is as if his supporters had deliberated and decided upon them, too.

Mr Kaklamanis, Mr Laliotis, Mr Gemminatas, Mr Tsochadzopoulos have all been paired off in these sprightly rounds of the kerkyraika with the various ministerial pocket handkerchiefs being twisted about and handed around. And, of course, amid these actors, the flower-loving Ophelia of the cast, Melina, could fill any or all of the parts.

But if there is a ministerial combination which may not have been thought of, it might yet be the most effective of all and the one which will ensure PASOK victories to the end of time, and that is to appoint Melina as Minister to Herself.