One could paraphrase Winston Churchill as saying that the Greeks “produce more history than they can consume” and stick with that cliché.
In reality, however, 21st-century Greece has been shaped by successive major historical events over a long period of time. Some of these events have created a sense of unity, such as the Greek Revolution of 1821. Others, such as the Battle of Athens (a series of clashes fought from December 1944 to January 1945, commonly known as the Dekemvriana), the civil war that followed (1946-49), or the Athens Polytechnic Uprising (November 1973), continue to cause deep divisions today. But these are events that, like history as a whole, give rise to ideologies and shape national (and other) identities.
Within an unprecedentedly short period of time, the country celebrated four significant anniversaries of such events: the 200th anniversary of the beginning of the Greek Revolution against Ottoman rule in 1821, the 100th anniversary of the Asia Minor Catastrophe (also known as the Greco-Turkish War of 1919-1922), the 50th anniversary of the restoration of democracy in 1973-4 (known in Greece as Metapolitefsi), and a few months earlier, the 50th anniversary of the Polytechnic Uprising. The first conclusion of this compressed look back at the past is that Greeks were showing a special interest in their history and perhaps trying to reinvent themselves.
“These are exercises in collective self-knowledge that are significantly influenced by the fears and aspirations of the present, which is why they are sometimes complacent, sometimes self-pitying, sometimes reflective,” Harris Athanasiades, professor of public history at Panteion University and co-author of the book “National Anniversaries: Forms of Managing Memory and History,” told Kathimerini.
The collective engagement with history seems to be more intense when the events and therefore the memory of them are still “alive”, together with their main actors. “The interest is heightened when it is an anniversary that brings with it conflicting interpretations and perceptions,” emphasizes Christina Koulouri, professor of modern and contemporary history and rector of Panteion University, adding that “this is clear in the case of the Polytechnic and the Metapolitefsi. But it is also true of the Asia Minor catastrophe, because it is a deep national trauma, a stain on national history.”
Divisive questions
The second, far more interesting conclusion is that Greeks in 2024 are still fascinated by the war of historical memory. They like the conflicting – or better yet – divisive questions and views that resurface due to successive anniversaries and the cultural production that comes with them. Who is responsible for the Battle of Athens? Was it the Polytechnic Revolt or the Turkish invasion of Cyprus that brought down the Greek military dictatorship? Konstantinos Karamanlis or Andreas Papandreou? What was the Metapolitefsi, after all? An achievement or a slide into chaos?
“You are right to note that recent anniversaries still generate a lot of debate and conflict,” says Vangelis Karamanolakis, associate professor of the theory and history of historiography at the National and Kapodistrian University of Athens (NKUA), adding that this is not unreasonable, since no anniversary is fundamentally about the past, but about the present and the future. “We always read yesterday with the eyes of today, we always look for genealogies, continuities and overlaps. Why do some people today understand the Metapolitefsi as a time of decline? Because of the intervening economic crisis and the experience of the bailout packages,” he says. “A discussion about whether the Metapolitefsi led to populism is not about 1974, but about how we deal with workers’ demands in 2024.”
Koulouri shares Karamanolakis’ view, explaining that the meaning of anniversaries depends on the experiences of the present. “For example, the anniversary of the Polytechnic took on different meanings in the 1980s, others in the 1990s or after 2008, and provided a field of expression for social protest,” she says.
“From the very beginning, the Polytechnic was seen as a prominent place of memory of resistance and democracy,” Athanasiades adds, arguing that in those autumn days of 1973, the then ongoing experiment with controlled democratisation and people’s familiarity with an incomplete democracy – as the late political scientist and election analyst Ilias Nikolakopoulos described the post-civil war period – was aborted. “Even without the invasion of Cyprus, the dictatorship had no future,” he says. “It is these uplifting events that restore dignity and self-respect to societies. Without these, societies wither, die spiritually. I think we agree that the far right has many reasons to question and discredit the Polytechnic uprising.”
Vlasis Vlasidis, associate professor at the Department of Balkan, Slavic and Oriental Studies at the University of Macedonia, who also studies issues of identity and the use of history in modern communication, offers a different perspective: he argues that there are self-appointed “guardians” of certain anniversaries who claim exclusive rights to the respective celebrations.
“As the well-known historian Marc Ferro wrote, controlling the past has always contributed to controlling the present,” says historian Christina Koulouri
“The events marking the 50th anniversary of the Polytechnic Uprising and the restoration of democracy, as well as the 100th anniversary of the Asia Minor Catastrophe, have sparked numerous discussions, since even today there are organizations and individuals who consider themselves the guardians of this memory, and a number of people who are ready to accept or reject the meaning and symbolism of each anniversary.”
Memory used as a weapon
But beyond the “innocent” disagreements among friends, on social media or between the associations that claim the legacy of these events, the memory wars often take on a clear political dimension and history is used to shape the collective consciousness. Thus, the commemorations serve above all as an opportunity for political and social forces to express themselves.
“Everyone wants to link the anniversary celebration with their own politics. They want to show that their decisions in the past were right – and that the public should follow their decisions in the present and in the future,” says Vlasidis, adding that parties and social groups act on the basis of conflict rather than unity and “transfer their differences to the issues of the past.”
“Every government, but also collective bodies, parties, youth groups, etc. invest in the collective memory and often expect their legitimacy from it,” adds Karamanolakis.
Koulouri also agrees that there is a political and ideological aspect to the way historical memory is handled. This happens “for different reasons and depending on the user,” she says. “In general, the goal can be to legitimize, manipulate or prove something.” The above becomes much clearer when we are faced with extremely divisive events such as the Dekemvriana (Battle of Athens), which will mark the 80th anniversary of its beginning in December. So that is another upcoming event.
Remembering such events may not contribute to national unity – which is the goal of an anniversary. But as Athanasiades points out, choosing to forget them is not the most productive option for society. “First of all, because it makes people get used to the idea that the whitewashed (version of history) is the national history and not the real one,” he says, adding that society needs to confront divisive events of the past. “Not to incite hatred, but to understand it, to explain it and not to repeat it.”
Vlasidis believes that the public is mobilised not by the logic of consensus but by that of division. However, he notes that this is not unique to Greece and does not only affect certain groups. He points to the Spanish Civil War and the fact that the country’s northern provinces still see Catalonia as a disruptive element. “The same goes for the celebrations of national independence in the Baltic countries, which are also associated with collaboration with the Nazis in World War II against the Soviet occupiers in Ukraine and elsewhere,” he says.
Karamanolakis naturally links the concept of a divisive event with that of trauma, raising the crucial question: who recalls historical memory each time and what do they want to do with it? “Today we cannot speak of the civil war as a living trauma; the suffering it caused is long gone. What counts is the memory of the civil war as part of a political identity, as an element of division in the present,” he says.
When the memory hurts
On the other hand, it is extremely difficult to imagine a neutral approach to historical memory. Or, to put it more precisely, there are events in Greek historiography that are framed by such contradictory narratives and corresponding testimonies that any attempt to ideologically sterilize their contemporary reflections is almost futile.
“A neutral approach to historical memory can only be achieved if someone stands outside the public eye,” argues Vlasidis, referring to the example of the prominent British historian Mark Mazower and his book “Salonica, City of Ghosts.”
“How can there be neutral management when the memory is full of emotions, painful, makes us happy, proud and ashamed?” adds Karamanolakis.
Koulouri agrees that there is no neutral management of memory. “As the well-known historian Mark Ferro has written, controlling the past has always contributed to controlling the present,” she says.
The debate about neutrality also raises the eternal question: who writes history anyway? The answer to this is almost spontaneous, especially in the age of absolute social networking and the apotheosis of the moment: history is written both from above and from below. That means on the one hand by professional historians with the relevant documents, and on the other hand by the bearers of memory themselves – the protagonists of the events. The truths of both sides often contradict each other.
