THE MELANCHOLY OF THE POLITICIAN

 

"Despite their promises at the last Election, the politicians had not yet changed the climate"  Evelyn Waugh, 'Love Among the Ruins' 1953.

Giorgio de Chirico, one of my favourite artists, painted “The Melancholy of the Politician in 1913. A metaphysical masterpiece that explores themes of isolation, alienation, and the human condition. Using a unique blend of classical architecture, everyday objects, and distorted perspective to create a dreamlike, almost surreal atmosphere that evokes a sense of unease and mystery, he poses the question: just how much of a politician can you be in a polis bereft of citizens? The statue of a politician looms large over an empty square populated by the silhouette of a person. Is this also a politician, one who seeks validation by the petrified and the departed? Or a citizen, vainly looking for someone to vote for?

It is exactly this scene that I envisaged when I came upon a most animated friend passionately handing out leaflets on my way to the ballot box, a few weeks ago. I thought I would provoke him by refusing to take his leaflet. To his question as to why I was refusing direction, I pointed him gently in the direction of doyen of the Greek Enlightenment, Iosipos Moisiodax, who asked in 1761, as I did at that moment:

"And what benefit does the state expect from a politician who regards custom and legality indifferently as one and the same thing: who has neither learned, nor shows any desire to learn, what is law, or what is polity?"

 

My friend persisted, extolling the virtues of the candidate he was tasked with spruiking, and desperately cajoled me into at least tarrying in order for him to complete the entire sales pitch, but I was having none of it. Instead, I referred him to the Ancient Greek tragedy “Hecuba” where, commenting on Odysseus intention to sacrifice her daughter Polyxena to the spirit of Achilles, even though Hecuba has saved Odysseus’ life, the Trojan Queen rails against: “these politicians who cringe for favours from a screaming mob and do not care what harm they do to their friends.”

 

By way of riposte, my friend demanded that I show him which daughters were sacrificed by his party, in order for this to form the basis of my argument, arguing that I was talking excrement. I shrugged his copronymic assertion aside, reminding him of when, returning to his native Tarsus philosopher Athenodoros had his front door smeared in excrement by partisans of his rival Boethius, Athenodoros wrote: “One may recognize the city’s illness and disaffection in many ways, and particularly from its excrement.” We are after all kin of the Modern Greek αγανακτισμένοι.

 

This in no way dampened my interlocutor’s fervour. He wanted to know what my political philosophy was, in order, as he maintained, to prove to me that his candidate was aligned with my views. This is an easy task, for such views as I may hold are best expressed by the queen of political activism and dissidence, Lysistrata, who Aristophanes quotes as proclaiming:

"If you had any sense, you would handle all your affairs in the way we handle wool....

First of all, just like washing out a raw fleece, you should wash the sheep-dung out of the body politic in a bath, then put it on a bed, beat out the villains with a stick and pic off the burrs; and as for those people who combine and mat themselves to gain office, you should card them out and pluck off the heads. Then card the wool into the work-basket of union and concord, mixing in everyone; and the immigrants, and any foreigner who is friendly to you, and anyone who is in debt to the treasury, they should be mixed in as well.... and then make a great ball of wool, and from that weave a warm cloak for the people to wear." Even back then, Lysistrata was proud to be Union.

 

The shadows were lengthening, like those in De Chrico’s empty, windswept square, and still the candidate, who I was asked to wait for and meet, and not materialised. As we waited, we mused at how gerontocratic Greek community politics is, as compared to Australian politics where renewal is the norm. My friend, of a conservative bent, considered that as our ancient forebears were wise and that wisdom comes with age, the origins of our gerontocracy must lie therein. I disagreed vehemently. In closing his argument as to why old men should remain active in politics, Plutarch digresses, explaining why certain statues of Hermes are designed the way they are:

“That is why representations of Hermes showing him as an old man are created with no hands or feet, but with erect member: the intimation is that there is little need for physical vigour in old men, but they should have, as is fitting, a fertile and productive reason.” This then is the reason why so many elderly members of our community hang onto their positions in brotherhoods with such tenacity and insist on playing politics. It also explains why many Australian contenders in the game tarry longer than they should in search of the elusive fourth term. It helps with their love life.

 

When the candidate did arrive, at the very end of the day, there were few people to greet him with a cheer. One of his supporters uttered the un-Australian political war-cry “Booyah” which left me completed gobsmacked. Enquiring as to why I was so visibly moved, I confided in my friend that that the American exclamation used to express triumph "Booyah!" actually comes from the Souliote War Cry "Boowah!" and we have Lord Byron's poem "Song to the Suliotes" to prove it:

“Up to battle! Sons of Suli

Up, and do your duty duly!

There the wall — and there the Moat is:

Bouwah! Bouwah! Suliotes!

There is booty — there is Beauty,

Up my boys and do your duty.”

 

Best election campaign theme song since “It’s Time,” if you ask me.

 

I didn’t speak to the candidate. Crisp, clean and eminently a poster boy for Anglo-Saxon vitality, I sidled inside the polling booth, therein to perform my democratic rites. Emerging from the sanctum of the polis, I did not deign to respond to my friend’s entreaties to reveal for whom I had voted, by advising him instead that in 2016, in voting for the President of Lebanon, a Lebanese MP wrote "Zorba the Greek" on the ballot. It was noted (in accordance with the power sharing arrangements between religious groups in Lebanon) that Zorba was a Greek Orthodox Christian, while according to the Constitution the President must be a Maronite (Catholic) Christian. A true but bizarre story.

 

Inspired by the Lebanese politician and suffering the malevolent after-effects of a rather contrary democracy sausage upon my digestive system  as commensurate to the quality of the argument I had advanced with to friend previously, I considered those who would do away with the right to choose altogether and caused to be posted the following piece of frivolity upon my social media page:

“In breaking news it has been announced that in order to effect the necessary cost-cutting needed to bring Australia back from the brink of financial collapse, the Australian Labor Party is merging with the Antiochian Orthodox Church.

Since its prelates are appointed directly from Antioch, Syria (a place infinitely more accessible than Canberra) rather than having politicians be elected, elections will henceforth be abolished. Instead, the victor will be popularly acclaimed with the words “Axios!” pronounced with a lisp.

This will save Australia billions in puerile advertising costs, cheesy photo shoots and will achieve Economies of scale and efficiency as politicians dispense with the need to pretend to listen and claim they care about the electorate.

Electorates will be abolished and replaced with parishes. The first order of business will be to excommunicate the Trumpet and his Patriots and reconcile with the Greens but only on Palm Sunday and Saint Patrick’s Day.

Given that Dutton comes from the Greek άδυτον, a holy sacred place where one may not enter, he will be excluded from the running.”

It was only when reading Tacitus that night that I recalled that acclamation by “Axios” is a process infinitely fraught with danger. Long associated with approbation and acclamation, ἄξιος is the only word the Roman general Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo uttered when in arriving at Cenchreae, the port of Corinth, messengers from mad emperor Nero met the general and ordered him to commit suicide. Undaunted, he strode forward to accept his fate, and fell on his own sword after exclaiming, "Axios!"

Best stick to ballots and preferences, albeit in desolate squares, after all.

DEAN KALIMNIOU

kalymnios@hotmail.com

First published in NKEE on Saturday 31 May 2025

ΠΑΠΟΥΤΣΙ ΑΠΟ ΤΟΝ ΤΟΠΟ ΣΟΥ

 

Honestly, the goings on of the Ministry of Culture of the Hellenic Republic make a person with the future of the race at heart despair. I mean serious, imagine getting stroppy with ADIDAS ^TM  simply because the good people headquartered in Herzogenaurach, Germany, had the inspiring idea of placing a colourful drone shoe above the Parthenon.

I remember as if it were yesterday, being ten years of age, warming my hands in front of the spit at an aged family friend’s nameday, and being approached by an older boy, who asked: “Hey, do you know what ADIDAS stands for?”

Had I been just a few years older, I imagine I would have advanced the opinion that they stand for the proletariat seizing control of the means of production so that the production of commodities is done away with, but instead I shrugged my shoulders. Moving close to my ear, the boy whispered in a hoarse voice: “All Day I Dream about S*x.”

“Rubbish,” boomed a voice from the other side of the spit, the purple face of his uncle contorted in various hues of inebriation. “It stands for “All Day I Dream About Soviet Union.” Crushing his stubby in his enormous proletarian fist as easily as he would crack the knuckles of the petit bourgeoisie, he then raised that fist in comradely salute and fixed us with a glare that would brook no opposition. I never did sum up the courage to illuminate him, when I found out years later, that ADIDAS is actually an acronym for the name of the company’s founder, Adolf "Adi" Dassler.

Viewed from this perspective, one could never accuse for Minister of Culture Mendoni of mendacity, in responding to the drone shoe with such fury. Not so long ago, another Adolf tried to stamp his jackboot on our sacred rock. Now this Adolf is trying to plant his sneaker upon it. Seriously though, the warning signs were all there, had we bit paid attention. Take the Adidas trefoil design, which apparently stands for North America, Europe and Asia, the continents or at least the markets of said land masses, that Adolf presumably seeks to conquer, subdue or at least peddle his product in. It was only a matter of time before his cohorts arrived to press us all under his athletic foot. After all, did not Adidas recently drop their marketing slogan for twenty years: “Impossible is Nothing” (a prescient warning to us if there ever was one that anything is possible, even the appropriation of the Parthenon), to the even more ominous “You’ve Got This,” no doubt referring to the Acropolis, its environs and all ticket sales therein?

While pundits and politician cry foul, something more sinister and profound is going on here and if the good people at the Ministry of Culture had just heard famed film director Yiorgos Lanthimos out, rejecting his recent application for filming rights to the Acropolis, they would have realised that the future of the world is at stake. For in Bugonia, his in production film, Lanthimos purports the tale of two conspiracy-obsessed young men who kidnap the high-powered CEO of a major company, convinced that she is an alien intent on destroying planet Earth. This, we are told and are expected to believe, is Science Fiction. And yet that is exactly what they want you to think. The truth is, that there are two CEO’s of two major companies vying for World Domination under our very noses and we are completely oblivious.

By now, you have probably guessed the identity of one of them. As to the other, consider this: What is the name of the temple to the right of the Propylaea at the entrance of the sacred precinct of the Acropolis? Ten ADIDAS vouchers to those of you who answered “the temple of Athena Nike.” Yes, NIKE. And I ask you gentle reader, have you ever heard or read about any Greek government, its officials, employees, assigns, clients or general hangers on make a gesture of at least the slightest disapprobation at this blatant infringement of our trademark and gross violation of our intellectual property by company b? You will not find one reference to such a protest anywhere, I promise you. For Pericles’ sake people, just do it.

So if it is not the violation itself that incenses the Hellenic populace, for we have already taken sides surreptitiously in the turf war of the alien companies, one which Lanthimos in his audacity threatens to disrupt, one can only deduce that the offending component in the whole story must be the shoe. For this at least, there is ample cultural evidence. Traditionally, to show the sole of one’s shoe to someone was a sign of the grossest disrespect, which is why one never sat with their legs crossed on a chair in front of one’s elders and betters. Here we have not just a whole sole but an entire shoe resting upon us. Then there is the revolutionary saying: «Παπούτσι από τον τόπο σου κι ας είναι μπαλωμένο» (a shoe from your own land, even if its is a patched one), a powerful Trumpian protectionist tariff increasing call to arms if there ever was one, which in breach of European Union regulations, tells Adolf to go stuff his shoe where the Sun of Vergina does not shine, since the Greeks have their own local shoe industry, even if this is comprised primarily of leather sandals in tourist kiosks on the Cyclades and tsarouhia for Manasis’ Froura in Melbourne.

But one defies one’s European masters at one’s peril. After all, were they not the ones who in the recent crisis μας έβαλαν τα δυο πόδια σε ένα παπούτσι? And when the people rose up as one and voted resoundingly NO in the referendum against the TROIKA’s bailout conditions, did they not proceed να μας πατήσουν τον κάλο? And of course, one needs to consider what our response had been had the shoe been on the other foot, although it must be said that while Greeks did have imperialistic proclivities before being taught the error of their ways, you never saw a Byzantine emperor plant his imperial porphyry buskins on the public edifices of any of its vassal states. Κλέφτες με ποδήματα, all of them, I say, and instead of protesting against Adolf, verifying the old adage: «γλώσσα παπούτσι, μυαλό κουκούτσι» perhaps we should be grateful that our overlords «δεν μας δίνουν τα παπούτσια στο χέρι» exiling us beyond the lands of the Union where we shall abide in sparsity and austerity, «με μισό παπούτσι.»

Of course the corollary of all this may just be that dear old Adolf in planting his sole upon the soul of our nation, is actually trying to pay us a Teutonic complement, which is why I rail at the overreaction of the Greek Minister of Culture. In positioning his shoe upon the columns of the Parthenon, is he not telling us that the very foundation of his foot-cladding philosophy is based upon ancient Greece, to whom he owes all? Furthermore, pundits who look into these things closely with the numerologists in Velopoulos’ Ελληνική Λύση Party, reliably inform me that the shoe actually does not rest upon the temple itself but rather, being comprised of drones, hovers above it at the conceptual point where the entasis of its columns meet, suggesting that all things will inevitably converge and it is futile to resist. (That by the way I am reliably informed by my astrologer, will be ADIDAS’s marketing slogan for 2026 and they have applied for it to also be adopted by the 2028 Los Angeles Olympics Apparently, they are a shoe in).

If after this length disquisition, you are not convinced and instead of welcoming Adolf with open arms, have maintained your rage and your enthusiasm, console yourself at least in the knowledge that our people have from times ancient developed a tried and true traditional method of dealing with interlopers, foreign and domestic. Τους γράφουμε στα παλιά μας τα παπούτσια.

DEAN KALIMNIOU

kalymnios@hotmail.com

First published in NKEE on Saturday 24 May 2025

HYDRA IN WINTER

 

Just imagine, if you will, that you could read a humorous version of the Pentateuch, written by a particularly witty in-law of a descendant of Abraham, who peppers her pages with an innumerable quantity of puns and allows you to join her as she retraces the steps of the patriarchs.

This is exactly the experience you are presented with when called upon by author Shelley Dark to sojourn with her in “Hydra in Winter.” Her narrative technique is one which co-opts you and makes you complicit in her journey of discovery, compelling you to trust her as your guide, by the simple act of turning the page. She disarms you, not in the least by calling you “buddy,” but also because her lucid, chatty, effortlessly accessible prose allows the ready to transcend time, space, season, and even Greek pronunciation, for which she displays remarkable aptitude.

The author of the recently published “Hydra in Winter,” is on a biblical mission. If Genesis traces the journey of patriarch Abraham from Ur of the Chaldees to the Promised Land, whence we all come, spiritually or otherwise, “Hydra in Winter” is also a Testament, attempting to trace the journey of one of our own community patriarchs from his homeland of Hydra, to Australia. Shelly Dark is perhaps best placed to do so, because her husband John, is a direct descendant of Gkikas Voulgaris, also known as Jigger Bulgary, one of the seven first Greeks to arrive in Australia, having been transported here in 1829 after a conviction for piracy.

The author’s attempt to trace our illustrious common ancestor’s journey back to its source in Hydra is an inspired one, not in the least because in doing so she puts her finger on the nub of our own ontopathology when it comes to our founding fathers and our identity as Greek Australians. On the one hand our national narrative renders our pirates as heroes: bold men who sailed the seas on a quest to liberate and defend their nation, defeat their enemies and compound their foes with feats of ingenuity, audacity and downright genius. On the other hand, Greek-Australian scholars have taken issue with a discourse that appears to grant their compatriots a convict heritage. It is after all, before the story of the seven pirates was widely known, an absence of criminality that comprised one of the elements that differentiated us from the dominant group’s narrative. Consequently those scholars point to efforts to present the seven pirates as convicts as symptomatic of a tendency of the ruling class to cast aspersions upon our pedigree, seeking to transfer to us, their own identity, possibly in order to make us complicit in their violent seizure of indigenous land and the assumption of its sovereignty. Is this then the original sin that is common to all of us?

Happily, Shelley Dark does not deal in the abstruse and the obscure, although hers is a pen that is as meticulous in recording details as it is in defying stereotypes. Hers is not the travelogue or indeed the journey of the tourist, peddling tired tropes about bouzouki, tzatziki and retsina and indeed on many of her inspired asides, she expertly is able to open-heartedly play with the expectations and deep seated cliches that accompany a westerner’s  (and not a few latter Greek-Australian generation’s ) understanding of Greece, (her quip about breaking plates, but not the ones off the wall, is a case in point). Instead, the cajoles us to accompany her to not touristic-Greece: Hydra in the off season, which far from being a sun-drenched paradise is icy cold, and where almost everything is shut. This is the real Greece, inhabited by real people and this place, as desolate as Ur itself, is the topos in which Shelley’s drama will unfold.

The narrative charmingly unfolds in andante prose, a walking pace to accompany our own steps as we explore the hibernating island. We learn that half the island is related to the Voulgaris clan, which has played a significant role in the Greek Revolution. Along the way, we also meet some remarkable elemental characters who assume Titanic proportions in the way that appear to inhabit in complete harmony with their surroundings, are inscrutable, incomprehensible and unpredictable but nonetheless, are warm-hearted, generous, omnipresent and willing to provide advice, hospitality and assistance.

In true Indiana Jones style, Shelley Dark’s exertions form a backstory in itself. She and the reader explore every nook and cranny of the island, which is rightly called Hydra since like the mythological creature of same name, (and let us not forget that the Lernaian Hydra was killed by Heracles – which coincidentally or not, was the name of Voulgaris’ (alleged) pirate ship) each of her lines of inquiry give rise to another three, as she searches for a lost book that contains the history of the Voulgaris Family.

The reader conjures in vain for a dusty, weighty tome,  silver clasp securing its many secrets. Instead, the object of the quest is “The Boulgaris Family of Hydra,” written by Ioannis Papamanolis in 1931. After a series of misadventures, the book is found exactly where it as supposed to be on the island for after all the Truth is not only out there but also lies within, in both sense of the word and much more can be learned about a story from its construction and the motivation behind its construction than from the events related themselves. Especially so, since the book mentions a Damianos Ghikas whose life and times seems to mysteriously mirror Ghikas Voulgaris’ own, though they predate his by a few decades…

Along the way, the author traverses another path of discovery, that of discovery of the self, something that seems to be uniquely the preserve of the visitor to a land whose completely unself-conscious native inhabitants have been born without an inner monologue. The climax of the novel where the author proclaims: “I hear the whisper of the Greek Chorus on the waves almost as if the island is speaking to me: “She stood in the shadow of a pirate, yet she found the outline of her own,”  is as profound as it is side-splittingly funny, coming as it does after a heavy earlier dose of pirate jokes.

For it is this that makes “Hydra in Winter,” a singularly unique and endearing book: It’s quirky, quintessentially self-deprecating and ironic Aussie humour. The text is literally dripping with quips, asides, wry observations and eye-wringing dad jokes. This is an author who loves a challenge, will test herself to the utmost and still in Antipodean fashion, refuses to take herself seriously. Consequently, she is a boon travel companion: knowledgeable, positive, entertaining and completely free from the psychological baggage that often afflicts the more emotionally vampiric fellow traveller that one may chance upon during one’s travels and from whom the only escape is to shut the book. Fascinatingly, she freely admits to being as afraid of us as we are of her.

By contrast, “Hydra in Winter” is a real page turner and if Shelley Dark, in searching for Ghikas has come to realisation that she is an aspiring novelist, she had better drop the adjective qualifying the noun with due speed and urgency. Tantalisingly, her story ends with a cliffhanger – after all her sleuthing and archival work on Hydra, leaving us high and dry (if you’ll pardon the pun), inviting us to come with her to the place where the Original Sin of our community took place: the island of Malta where the trial of Ghikas Voulgaris for piracy was held and where he was convicted and sentenced. Knowing what I know both about the trial and the history of the Greeks of Malta, I can’t wait.

Ultimately, “Hydra in Winter” causes us to reflect upon the traditional differences in the way people understand history. Shelley Dark enters into a world of people who can tell you in intimate detail what happened to Alexander the Great over two thousand years ago but for whom the details of their family just a few centuries ago is completely obscure. Perhaps there is some solace and security in the historical amnesia that seems to frame our perspective. Nevertheless, with Bertrand Russell’s “In Praise of Idleness” as her inspiration, Shelley Dark engages in writing as being “about the sheer, ridiculous fun of making things up and calling it work.” And we are all the richer for it.

DEAN KALIMNIOU

kalymnios@hotmail.com

First published in NKEE on Saturday 17 May 2025

FROM DELPHI AND ULURU

 

My first question, when comparing Melbourne academic Dr Christos Fifis’ latest publications, a poetry collection entitled “From Delphi to Uluru” and the second edition of his “With Lyre and Knowledge: An Overview of the Poetry of Yannis Ritsos", was this: How are both of these connected, given that the author chose to launch them concurrently in Melbourne on Sunday, 6 April.

At first glance, it can be argued that there is an interest in geography in the works of both poets. In the case of Dr Fifis’ work, Delphi and Uluru are constants for two separate cultures that he tries to connect, or reconcile. Both serve as central axes that support the entire world. In the case of Delphi, this location was considered in times ancient, to be the navel of the earth, its central point. According to the Souda, Delphi took its name from Delphine, the she-serpent (or dragon) that inhabited that location, who was killed by the god Apollo. Thus, the initial process of rendering this spot sacred, involved a struggle, a sacrifice and a death.

It is worthwhile also, when considering Dr Fifis’ attitude to location, to recall the ancient Greek myths about the founding of the Oracle of Delphi. Zeus, in his attempt to locate the centre of the Earth, launched two eagles from the two ends of the world and the eagles, starting at the same time and flying at equal speed, crossed paths over Delphi area, thus determining where the hearthstone was to be placed.

Uluru is also a focal point where the divine and the human converge, and there are several myths associated with it: The first myth tells of snakes that waged many wars around Uluru, marking the rock. The second tells of two tribes of primordial spirits who were invited to a feast, but were distracted by the beautiful Sleepy Lizard Women and did not turn up. By was of retribution, the angry hosts sang to life an evil mud sculpture that assumed the form of a dingo. A great battle ensued, which resulted in the deaths of the leaders of both tribes. The earth itself rose in grief over the bloodshed as a bulge, and became Uluru.

We observe two things, a process of pain, slaughter, sacrifice, rivalry and their dialectic perhaps marks the development of the entire world. There are also notable differences which are ultimately cancel themselves out: Ostensibly, Delphi now belongs to history. It is finite. It is a part of our cultural heritage, but in reality, it plays no role in our lives, nor does it influence or determine the way in which we understand our identity. However, it belongs to the place where we derive our origin, of which we are indigenous. It is our place, and consequently, ours is the right to forget it.

Uluru, by way of contrast, an identifying mark and symbol of the indigenous people of Australia, does not belong to those indigenous people. It is located on occupied land. Until recently, it had another name, given to it by colonialists who violently seized the land from its rightful owners. Of course, it is these colonialists who define our attitude to this monument. The indigenous people are called upon to participate in a kind of performance of their culture and beliefs, one that responds to the needs and ideology of the ruling class of the conquerors, thus legitimizing the crime of conquest and, paradoxically, making the vanquished accomplices in this violent act. By focusing their attention on the exotic, on the representational, are they cultivating a kind of amnesia around the events that transpired?

Delphi has also been colonised, not in the least by its sack by the Goths in the early Byzantine era. Yet there are also other commonalities with Uluru. Have not Western imperialists and colonialists appropriated ancient Greek civilization, considering it their own? Here in Australia, where our community actively participates in the maintenance of this amnesia, are we not considered, rather than as a group of Australians who have played an important role in the development of this country, instead, as descendants/symbols of an ancient tradition that has nothing to do with our reality and our presence here?

It is for this reason, that the employment of the term Uluru by the poet Christos Fifis constitutes a revolutionary act, an act of resistance against the status quo that imposes  historical and social amnesia, simply because he dares to say things exactly as they are. It is an act of truth, intertextually in dialogue with Ritsos who wrote: “Well, my children, I am now thinking of finding a word to fit the stature of freedom.” Finding the right words to sum up this truth is an act of revolution, an act of freedom.

Returning to Delphi it wis worthwhile seeking to evaluate its continued relevance to the poet, even as an ossified location. One could posit that this is that embedded within its creation, and underpinning the entire world, is an act of evil. This is directly referred to in Dr Fifis’ poem "The Dark Dragon of the Century". In Delphi, the dragon was the Delphine. However, the poet informs us that the terrible dragon has had various names throughout the centuries: The Plague of Athens, the Black Death and so many others. Perhaps the main concern of the collection therefore to is a quest to identify this “dragon,”  to work out how confront it, and indeed, how to articulate a discourse of resistance.

How does the poet Fifis articulate his discourse: simply, amicably, reflectively, in the style of a Ritsos who is convinced that there are some constant, Ulurus  that remain outside the world of decay, to emerge in defiance at the injustice of the world: “I don't need to shout for them to believe me, to say: "Whoever shouts has justice on his side". Justice is with us and we know it. And no matter how softly I speak to you, I know you will believe me.”

Dr Fifis writes in his poem "A Ballad for the Australian Killed in the Battle of Crete" that he "confesses that he writes a multitude of words, for a silent Australian." Evidently, he gives a voice to those who cannot, for whatever reason, speak for themselves. He awakens them, even from the torpor of death and empowers them.

 

With a colossal vision bestriding both Australia and Greece, the poet Dr Fifis draws his inspiration from the travails of everyday life, the timeless flow of Greek history, especially our own local community history, our social struggles, especially those of the progressive wing of the Greek community, and he begin to composes poetry, lending to his poetics the characteristics of his own life that can be summarized in one word: the search for and articulation of truth. Yannis Ritsos did something similar. Like Dr Fifis, he sought to "find those words that take on the same weight/In all hearts/On all lips/So that we may call /a fig, a fig/ And a kneading trough, a kneading trough.”

In his poem "The invaders came dressed in the sheepskins of peace" Dr Fifis echoes this broad aim, proclaiming: “Poetry should shed light on the facts! It should not put us to sleep! We should not parrot these things!"

As in the case of Ritsos, for Dr Fifis, the spiritual and social awakening of humanity, its integration into the progressive community, the ferment within contemporary social struggles, and the conviction through the socio-cultural events that he observes, are what constitute a source of inspiration and, if nothing else, signal his hopeful belief that we must create a better tomorrow.  This is evidenced in his poem: “The struggle is continuous,” dedicated to the memory of Plutarch Deligiannis, which concludes: “His thought frequently raises the question as to how young people will read memories and vision on their own and correctly.” This of course reveals two of his concerns - the struggle but also, and this is simultaneously connected to Delphi and Uluru, how to retain memories and how to understand them correctly. The concept of “correctness” of course, opens up an entirely new discussion, because as the dark dragon of the ages says in Dr Fifis’ poem, “During such periods, the quacks, the frauds and so many other false prophets who know everything multiply.”

In keeping with his aim of retaining lore, the second half of Dr Fifis’ collection is a narrative of his own “walkabout” within ancestral places within Greece. In it, he reflects upon the history, legends and traditions of the places he visits, in a manner akin to the Indigenous Songlines, articulating his own pathways of knowledge, his own "Dreaming Tracks," that crisscross his poetic world, linking sacred sites and conveying stories of creation, culture, and navigation to the reader.

The process of transcending the divine and delving into the chthonic is replete with romance in Dr Fifis’ poetics, to the extent where the undertones of some of the poems are clearly erotic. They are inspired by the love for humanity that underlies the poet's consciousness and dialectics. And this is clearly evident in the poem “Coperti”, which suggests that our journey can be a game, it can resemble a scene in play where one enters and the other leaves, but it is this friction that creates memories, that fuels hopes, that sculpts love and creates a new world, one that is evoked with great skill, and even greater humanity, in this remarkable collection of poetry.

DEAN KALIMNIOU

kalymnios@hotmail.com

First published in NKEE on 

TRADEMARKING MACEDONIA

 

A few months ago, the Preston Lions Soccer Club, most of whose members are culturally affiliated with Greece’s northern neighbour, recently registered “PRESTON MAKEDONIA S.C” as a trademark with IP Australia. Publication of the acceptance of the trademark took place on 8 April 2025 and the application is currently in “opposition period,” during which time, interested parties are able to lodge objections. There are currently interested parties who are in the process of determining the form their objections will take.

The basis of the trademark relates to the provision of “Goods and Services,” namely: “Class 25: long sleeve tee-shirts; long-sleeved jumpers; tee-shirts; sport shirts; sports uniforms; articles of clothing; clothing for sports; sports garments; sportswear; clothing, footwear and headgear; footwear and headwear; T-shirts; shirts; raincoats [jackets]; trousers; sports hats and caps; hats; beanie hats; scarfs; track suits; training suits; jogging suits; track pants; tracksuit pants; soccer boots; soccer cleats [shoes]; soccer cleats [boots]; soccer bibs; soccer shirts; soccer jerseys; soccer tops.

 Class 28: soccer goals; sporting articles; sporting articles and equipment; footballs [soccer]; balls for playing soccer; soccer goal nets; gloves for soccer goalkeepers; shin guards for soccer; knee pads for soccer.

Class 41: arranging of sports events; arranging and conducting sports events; organising sports events; sporting activities; sporting and cultural activities; providing sporting facilities; providing information about sporting and cultural activities; sports club services; providing training facilities; provision of sporting competitions; providing sports competitions.”

Significantly, there is an endorsement on the application which reads as follows: “The applicant has advised that the English translation of the Macedonian word/phrase MAKEDONIA appearing in the trade mark is MACEDONIA.”

In other words, and despite the provisions of the Prespes Agreement, this soccer club seeks to abrogate to itself, the word Macedonia, one which historically has been associated with an ancient Greek kingdom, and which since those times, has fuelled the fires of nationalism in the Balkans. It should be noted that despite decades of activism by the Greek community, Australia recognises both a “Macedonian” language and a “Macedonian” cultural affiliation.

The news of this application has caused unease in many sections of our community. There is fury among those who cast blame upon the Australian government, believing that because IP Australia, the trademark regulatory authority is a federal body, it is somehow linked to the whims or views of the ruling party. This, by the way, is not the case. There is consternation among those who believe that since Macedonia is a region of Greece, Greek diplomatic officials within Australia should be at the forefront of any acts of opposition to the registration of the trademark. Others, point the finger at our community institutions for what they perceive to be their complete disinterest in the matter. Some ire is being pointed at the key stakeholder, the various Pan-Macedonian Associations of Australia.

The truth however, is that the situation is somewhat more complicated than first appears. The strongest basis for challenging those trademarks would likely fall under Section 43 of the Trade Marks Act. This would involve showing that the marks should not have been approved for registration due to an inherent meaning or impression they convey that could mislead or confuse the public. However, this is not the easiest argument to prove and would require compelling evidence to show how the use of that name could realistically deceive or confuse the general public. A task for the lawyers if there ever was one.

And here is the nub of the problem. There are other trademarks that have been registered that contain the word “Macedonia.” “Best of Macedonia” is a media entity culturally affiliated with Greece’s northern neighbour. “T Tikves Belvoda Vineyards” contain in their trademark the words: “Product of the Republic of Macedonia.” There are currently, in Australia, no registered trademarks that contain the word Macedonia that are associated with Greeks or Greek culture. So how can we argue confusion? Indeed, why should Australian courts be the arbiters of an issue they do not understand and do not care about?

The only Greek affiliated trademarks containing the words “Macedonia” were registered by the Pan-Macedonian Association of Melbourne in 1994. It contained a logo of the head of Alexander the Great, accompanied by the words: “Hellas Macedonia.” That trademark was due for renewal in 2009. The renewal fee was not paid and consequently, the trademark was deregistered. Before that, the same Association had registered as a trademark the Sun of Vergina, accompanied by the words: “Hellas Macedonia.” That trademark was due for renewal in 1999. The renewal fee was not paid and the trademark was subsequently de-registered.

 The rule of thumb with logos, symbols and contentious terms is “use it or lose it.” We complain vociferously when we see the Star of Vergina on a red background being flown by those culturally affiliated to Greece’s northern neighbour on the grounds that this constitutes theft of a Greek symbol. Yet when it is suggested to us that we should fly that flag, because it is ours, we scoff, scowl and howl in derision, for rather than taking back what is ours, we have in our subconscious, come to believe it belongs to them, and have grown to hate the sight of it, let alone use it.

The same applies within the field of sport where ethnic politics comes face to face with a ruling class that does looks down upon expressions of ethnic identity in a sphere that forms an important part of the dominant culture’s national narrative. If teams are to be taken seriously, and indeed progress to the highest leagues, ethnic in origin teams are given to understand, they must divest themselves of their ethnic accoutrements and baggage, and assimilate. Our major Greek teams have engaged wholeheartedly in this process dictated to them from above, considering that the future lies within a deracialised paradigm that will prove lucrative, and not cost them their original core of members.

It is for this reason that my team, South Melbourne FC, founded 66 years ago, was directed by Soccer Australia, along with clubs all over the country, to change its emblem and name in an attempt to move soccer into the Australian mainstream and away from direct club-level association with its migrant roots. In compliance with this directive, it removed the Greek flag from its logo, and then the word Hellas from its name, adopting in its stead, the term “Lakers,” until faced by legal action from the L. A Lakers in America. Sadly, these re-imagings did not enable our beloved club to enter the A League. It seems we have not yet reached the requisite level of de-racification. What it did do however, was cause a committed membership to rally around the club in order to ensure its continued relevance and survival.

Similarly, Heidelberg United, was founded by Greeks from Florina as the Alexander the Great-Melbourne Soccer Club in 1958. While it its logo bears Alexander the Great with a starburst that resembles the Sun of Vergina emanating behind him, with him bearing a shield with a similar Sun of Vergina bursting behind a soccer ball, the club has distanced itself from directly referencing Alexander the Great, renaming themselves Heidelberg United and making no mention of their founder’s place of origin, Macedonia.

These clubs do not wish to play ethnic politics. They are not interested in using their resources in order to advance the historical narratives of Greece, or indeed to be a vehicle for the maintenance of the Greek identity. Instead, they want to concentrate on expanding their membership and, understandably enough, on the game itself. The fact that they have been able to do so, and still retain their traditional core of fans speaks to the fact that the Greek identity and the Greek community is infinitely more flexible and pliant than a bunch of slogans, signs and flags. Nonetheless, a void is inevitably left, that others might fill.

Preston’s attempt to trademark the term “Macedonia,” is thus a retrograde step that does not appear to be in keeping with the times or the prevailing social conditions in this country. It is a move that belongs in the nineties rather that the second decade of the new millenium. While it may satisfy its fans in the short term, it remains to be seen if re-branding oneself as an ethnic ghetto will ensure the viability of that entity, especially given that the club will have to play with its peers and drag its own version of identity politics into a game that has left them behind.

We need to think seriously about the wisdom of choosing to engage on such a dubious playing field of their choosing and whether a more nuanced and strategic approach is required. In the meantime, if we are serious about emphasising the Greek identity of Macedonia, we might want to think about employing the term more often, being more vigilant in portraying the Hellenism of Macedonia and waving the odd flag. Until the next IP challenge that is.

DEAN KALIMNIOU

kalymnios@hotmail.com

First published in NKEE on Saturday 3 May 2025