Walls

 The holiday of the October 28 anniversary has always always a kind of  people's edict in Greece – a clear indication of how the new season was going to be like. It is not a coincidence that George A. Papandreou decided to resign as prime minister after last year’s incidents at the military parade of October 28. Since the “NO” we told Moussolini and Hitler, thereby forcing dictator Ioannis Metaxas’ hand towards the direction of valiant resistance, the message of each October 28 anniversary is indeed the closest (apart from elections) to what we call “public will”.
In other Western countries, especially the northern ones, there is no other anniversary in autumn so charged with political and existential importance. That’s the reason why autumn in this foreign city is just a forerunner of the approaching winter. It doesn’t really matter that no one seems to be looking forward to the approaching winter.
Walking through the famous museum of the city and its endless galleries, you find a common thread that connects everything: Greece.
You can see the influence of Greece up to the Middle Ages in almost every exhibit. Right there, just after the fall of Constantinople to the Crusaders and just before the fall of Constantinople to the Ottomans, Greece is lost forever and the entirely autonomous advancement of the Western style and the Western man starts – just like Zeus being able to evolve and emerge as king of the gods only after defeating Cronus.
Being amongst strangers, you realize that what is familiar is not friendlier or more unfriendly just because it happens to be familiar. People can be mobilized to offer their help when needed, but they are just a handful and do not come from your environment – if the familiar was able to help, it would have done it long ago.
In a gallery exhibiting Caravaggio’s contemporaries and students, you see a painting that grabs your attention: two young girls (plump as befitted the aesthetic standards of the time) sit at a balcony and stare at a square full of people underneath the balcony. Two blurry male figures stand behind the two girls. The caption of the painting mentions that the two girls belong to the high society and stare with great interest and from a certain distance at the “others” – the people at the square – behind walls built by privileges: money and social or professional recognition that comes with it.
Things stand exactly as the painting depicts them. The communities of the rich people in this foreign city live behind high walls and wrought iron gates, guarded by concierges in tailcoats. If you don’t belong here or if you are not invited, you cannot enter no matter what. The rules are clear, acknowledged and respected by all. If they are not respected, too bad: in this democratic, progressive and liberal country, the police don’t joke – that’s the reason why this country manages to maintain its democratic and progressive nature.
Only in a country with rules respected by all, regardless of financial, professional or social status, can there be progress and preservation of a common feeling of justice, unity and responsibility for a country that everyone belongs to, a country which belongs to everyone.
In Greece, the same walls stand albeit deceptively – they seem invisible until you crush onto them and get killed. A lot of rich people do not seem like rich people – nor are they legally justified to be rich. That’s the reason why they pretend to be “madmen”, “leftists” or “anarchists”. In Greece, however, contrary to what happens abroad, there are no rules. Not even the rule of the survival of the fittest. A unionist participates in similar “orgies” to a big businessman because both can blackmail and they know it – each in his own way.
However, there are walls that stand justifiably – or, be it, legally. A lot of poor people or people who lost vested interests, jobs and money during the last years adopt a fair or unfair (depending on the circumstances) stance towards the people who (seem to) have more than them. But what else can be done? The illegal immigrant cannot become one of us just because he wants to or has the muscles to impose it and we cannot become industrialists and shipowners “just because”.
The feelings of anger and jealousy are, in my opinion, the greatest danger we Greeks are facing as we speak. The crisis, the depression and the growing poverty, accompanied by lower living standards, are unfortunately taken for granted. Two things are still at stake: the survival of the country as a member of the eurozone and the survival of the country as a social and national entity.
If we finally manage to survive in financial terms (which seems probable at the moment), it would be a tragedy to turn our rightful indignation against the political establishment that destroyed and corrupted our society towards each other. It would be a tragedy to turn our anger against the “crooks” who “ate the money together” with politicians towards anyone richer than us.
Maybe that’s the “no” we are supposed to be saying during this year’s celebrations of October 28 anniversary.
 

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Author: Amalia Negreponti

Amalia Negreponti has worked for years as a journalist and critic for outlets including the BBC, La Règle du Jeu, Medium, HuffPost, Ta Nea, and the Los Angeles Review of Books. Originally from Athens, she emigrated to the US in 2013 and now lives in New York as a writer, researcher and strategist. She also red-teams neural networks and writes about consciousness, memory and the genesis of emotion. She is the recipient of a Marshall Memorial Fellowship, a fellowship from the French Foreign Ministry, and has participated in various policy fora about AI, national security and culture, organized by The Aspen Institute, the AJC’s Project Interchange, and Lighthaven.

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