A homeland shrinks when its people do: 66 years of half-independence

There was a time when this place knew how to dream, and could. In 1950, a whole people went to the polls and spoke with one voice. Fully 95.71 per cent put their names to a shared vision. It was the famous omopsychon , one heart, one soul. It was one of those rare moments when people stopped eyeing each other with suspicion and looked in the same direction. Five years later, the dream caught fire. Young people took to the mountains. Others were thrown into prison. Others into detention camps. Others went to the gallows. Afxentiou, Matsis, Karaolis, Demetriou and so many more became the symbols of a generation that believed freedom is never handed to you. That noble struggle led to 1960. Not to the union with Greece the 1950 referendum had voted for, but to the Republic of Cyprus, born of the Zurich and London agreements: an independent state wrapped in a complicated constitutional and international framework. The Republic was proclaimed on August 16, 1960, and October 1 became the day we celebrate independence. It was a hard compromise. But it was our state. Then, sadly, came a great tragedy. It took more than a foreign enemy to wound the Republic. It took our own mistakes too. Institutions that didn’t work, clashes between the communities, political fanaticism, an inability to talk to one another. And, in the end, division. Together they dragged Cyprus into the abyss. The coup of July 15 was the disaster we inflicted on ourselves. The Turkish invasion of July 20 finished the job. A third of the Republic’s territory fell into the invaders’ hands. Tens of thousands were uprooted, and 162,000 Greek Cypriots became refugees in their own country. The independence we had longed for turned out to be half an independence. Half a homeland. Half a freedom. There is no greater catastrophe than losing half your homeland. The price was crushing. The blow was crushing. The pain was crushing. But what came after was just as heavy a loss. Somewhere along the way, we lost the dream too! We forgot what it means to have a vision and chase it. Sixty-six years have passed. Some of the refugees have gone, and the rest have grown old. Their children have grown up. Their grandchildren were born far from their grandparents’ homes. Photographs of the occupied villages have become family heirlooms. “I don’t forget”, once a slogan that stirred the soul, has shrunk into a phrase many people remember on anniversaries. And the politicians? They kept talking. Every anniversary, the same grand declarations. Freedom. Justice. Reunification. Return. Dignity. Heavy words. In practice, featherweight. No, they are not all the same. But most of them are. For decades, the political system as a whole has carried a responsibility it cannot hide behind fine-sounding anniversary speeches. History, you see, isn’t moved by microphones. It wants results. And results are an endangered species! Today, 52 years on, the Republic of Cyprus is still under occupation and the island still divided. Today, like every October 1, the platforms will go up. The ties will go on. The pompous statements will ring out. They will glorify the heroes. They will talk about freedom. And once the lights go off, we will go back to the grind. To party squabbling. To personal ambition. To cronyism. To corruption. To the arrogance of power. That hurts. Badly. A place that paid so dearly for its freedom should demand far more of those who govern it. It should demand truth. It should demand accountability. It should demand unity. It should demand vision. It should demand politicians who understand that the homeland is not a stepping stone to power, only to responsibility for it. Sixty-six years after independence, we must look reality in the face. The Republic of Cyprus exists. It survived. It is internationally recognised. It is a member of the European Union. That is a hugely important achievement. But its independence remains unfinished, because a large part of its territory is under occupation. And the dream will stay unfinished for as long as our political life fails to rise to what history demands. Once, the people of this land went to the gallows singing. Today, most of our politicians go to the polls hunting for fat salaries and plum jobs. Once, heroes competed over who could give more to their country. Today, many politicians calculate how much their country will give them. That is the vast gulf we have opened up in 66 years. And that is the most painful question this anniversary asks. Are we still worthy of the dream of those who gave their lives so that we could be free? Friends, a homeland doesn’t shrink only when it loses territory. It shrinks when its people shrink. It shrinks when their dreams shrink. It shrinks when politics becomes a career and the homeland a slogan. Friends, Cyprus doesn’t need any more grand declarations. It needs a great dream again. And above all, it needs brave people to serve it!