<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912</id><updated>2012-01-23T14:03:14.276+10:30</updated><title type='text'>Diatribe</title><subtitle type='html'>Diatribe is a weekly opinionative column by Dean Kalimniou, which is published in Melbourne's Neos Kosmos English Edition Newspaper. It deals generally with issues of interest to the Greek Community in Australia.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>391</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-570282544385965883</id><published>2012-01-23T13:55:00.003+10:30</published><updated>2012-01-23T14:03:14.378+10:30</updated><title type='text'>SAINT...... WAS HERE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0VjC4Hm9e8I/TxzU3J4KFjI/AAAAAAAABD8/vEaOAOtBDjo/s1600/St__Anargyroi_by_logIcon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700665272353560114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 295px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0VjC4Hm9e8I/TxzU3J4KFjI/AAAAAAAABD8/vEaOAOtBDjo/s400/St__Anargyroi_by_logIcon.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wlHOGqtITdo/TxzT1UEzkgI/AAAAAAAABDw/pPTOKIm7IlU/s1600/St__Anargyroi_by_logIcon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700664141219598850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 295px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wlHOGqtITdo/TxzT1UEzkgI/AAAAAAAABDw/pPTOKIm7IlU/s400/St__Anargyroi_by_logIcon.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If there are flagships to our fleet of Greek language educational institutions in Victoria, then certainly these are our three «δίγλωσσα ημερίσια κολλέγια» or bi-lingual day schools, whose stated aim upon their foundation was to provide the Greek community with a comprehensive facility that would fulfil the dual aim of readying its offspring for the demands and requirements of broader Australian society, while simultaneously, providing them with a grounding in the Greek language and culture sufficient to enable them to transcend both cultural spheres with ease. Two of these schools, namely St John's and Saint's Anargyroi, being schools associated in various ways with the Orthodox Church, added to this mission, a further aim: to instil in their students the faith, values and tradition of that Church.&lt;br /&gt;It is worthwhile to refer to these aims when considering the recent controversy surrounding the renaming of Oakleigh Greek Orthodox College Saints Anargyroi in Oakleigh. According to one of two warring factions within the school community, a proposal to rename the school "Saints Anargyroi Grammar," was put to members of the Oakleigh Greek Orthodox Community at a General meeting of that organisation and approved. Subsequent to this, the school committee allegedly announced, without prior consultation with members, that the school would be renamed "Oakleigh Grammar." The aggrieved faction argues firstly that such a change is unconstitutional, since it was not approved first by members at a properly convened General meeting, wondering as an aside, why a General Meeting was convened to obtain member's approval to change the name of the school to Saints Anargyroi Grammar, when all along the intention was to name the school Oakleigh Grammar. Secondly, the argument is put that the removal of the saint's names from the school conflicts with the vision of the driving force behind the foundation of the school, the late but unforgettable Father Nikolaos Moutafis, who conceived of the school as an orthodox educational institution, under the protection and blessing of the unmercenary Saints Cosmas and Damianos.&lt;br /&gt;Conversely, the Oakleigh Community Board defends its conduct by stating that nowhere in the Community's constitution is there a requirement for the approval of the members to be gained for a change of the school 's name and that they only held the previous general meeting "out of respect" for their members. Further, they hasten to point out, a name change to something neutral (and presumable less "ethnic") is necessary, as the school is losing money and students and an appeal to a broader market is intrinsic to the school's survival.&lt;br /&gt;While the board has still failed to clearly explain the logic behind going through the tedious process of calling a General Meeting to put to the vote a change of name that will not be used, out of respect for members, when they don't have to, only to arbitrarily institute a change of a different name without regard for their own self-imposed voluntary processes, clearly there is a more important issue at stake. Put simply, regardless of which faction is legally vindicated, either our community has failed the vision of the School's founding fathers, or, that vision is no longer relevant to our community, which, in actual fact, may amount to the same thing.&lt;br /&gt;It is trite that owing to the realities of the Victorian experience, and despite early visions of true bi-lingual education, it did not prove possible to create an educational environment where lessons could be taught equally in both languages. In fact, our day-schools are as multi-lingual as any other school that teaches languages other than English as an elective. Further at the same time that we may boast to those outside our community of the existence of Saints Anargyroi, and other like schools, the sizeable Greek community on the whole, based both on enrolments and anecdotal evidence, is hesitant to entrust the education of its offspring to the school.&lt;br /&gt;While one of these certainly is the fact that the school does not have the aura of prestige and reputation of academic excellence of other private schools, on the whole, its students do not perform badly, and it constitutes and important hub of the local Greek community. Therein lies the problem. Not a few are the parents who, considering whether to send their children to the school, have uttered sentiments such as: "I want my children to have the best start in life. I don't want them growing up in a ghetto," or, "have you seen how those Oakleigh kids speak? Which employer is going to employ my kids if they learn to speak like that?" or even more disturbingly: "Yeah, as if I would trust a bunch of Greeks to run a decent school." A friend who is moving to Victoria from Greece for a short period of time and made enquiries about the school for his children confided: "At first I thought it would be a good idea, as I wanted my children to learn English, and also not lose their standard of Greek when we move back to Greece. However, when I saw exactly how Greek is taught and the class of people my children would have to mix with, I thought the better of sending my children there."&lt;br /&gt;Of these comments, it is noticeable that only one expressed some concern as to the standard of Greek language teaching, and this, only from a parent intending to re-settle in Greece. A deeper prejudice underlies the other observations, made by Greek-Australian parents, who are apparently not unduly concerned about the school's Modern Greek curriculum, or in fact, if one is to dare to make such a conclusion from an absence of comments indicating otherwise, are largely unconcerned with their children's school instilling within them "Orthodox values." Instead, these parents are primarily concerned with ensuring that their children are best equipped in order to achieve professional success within the large melting pot of Victorian society. Thus, they have paradoxically adopted a prejudice that was originally and historically applied to them and their parents by the dominant culture: that anything that is 'Greek,' is by nature inferior and not to be trusted or supported by anyone with aspirations towards mainstream success. That is, as one parent pointed out to me, "the school is fine if you want your kid to become a builder and marry a hairdresser that will drive around Oakleigh in a four wheel drive chewing gum, but not so fine if you want you want kid to become a lawyer or an accountant, respected by other Australians and treated as an equal." What this horrifying statement says about class relations among second generation Greek-Australians and their perception of their own identity warrants a diatribe in its own right.&lt;br /&gt;It cannot be doubted that the teachers and management of Saints Anargyroi are committed to the quality education of their students. So are the parents who send their children there to be educated. Yet schools can only do so much if they are not whole-heartedly supported and their vision shared by their own communities. It cannot be doubted that the original vision, which is one where Greek-Australian students would retain their identity by being educated together bilingually (as opposed to merely learning the Greek language), while simultaneously becoming good Orthodox Christians, is one that most people no longer subscribe to as tenable. Right or wrong, the decision to divest the school of its 'ethnically' sounding name, in order to attract students from the broader community reflects the death of this vision in the face of reality. Just how "Greek," and how "Orthodox" the school will become in the face of such an abandonment of its founding principles by the community it was built to serve will be proved by the passage of time.&lt;br /&gt;Whether one adheres to the quixotic vision of a Greek-Australian community transcending the generations unsullied by assimilation or rather, laughs this off as an accumulated cultural baggage, the weight of which should not encumber or hinder one's progress within Australian society, it is time that our community determined, in an honest and realistic fashion, without hyperbole or fancy, just what it is that it wishes to achieve for itself in the future and what being Greek should mean. Viewed in this context, the change of the school name in order to position that institution for the future should be accompanied by an explanation of what the future is envisaged to be, and then a consensus reached as to whether that is, the way to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday, 21 January 2012&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-570282544385965883?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/570282544385965883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=570282544385965883' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/570282544385965883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/570282544385965883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2012/01/saint-was-here.html' title='SAINT...... WAS HERE'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0VjC4Hm9e8I/TxzU3J4KFjI/AAAAAAAABD8/vEaOAOtBDjo/s72-c/St__Anargyroi_by_logIcon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-3481744123709529034</id><published>2012-01-14T09:53:00.001+10:30</published><updated>2012-01-16T09:56:19.140+10:30</updated><title type='text'>GOING GREEK</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P4R8WkW9MGk/TxNgjIdYUlI/AAAAAAAABDk/RhMVCCvZHDg/s1600/Capturer8.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698004110236209746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 342px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P4R8WkW9MGk/TxNgjIdYUlI/AAAAAAAABDk/RhMVCCvZHDg/s400/Capturer8.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And the philhellene award of the year goes not to the homonymous restaurant in Moonee Ponds, but rather, to the inhabitants of the French city of Nantes who have attempted to redeem the historically tarnished name of their town in a most novel way. For it was Nantes, lotted and pillaged by the Saxons and laid waste by the Normans, that was the capital of the slave trade in France prior to its abolition and it was there that the French revolutionaries punished the rebelling monarchists by executing thousands of them via the novel ‘republican marriage,’ whereby a man and a woman where stripped naked, tied together, and drowned in the Loire. This notwithstanding, the Nantais have generously conjured up a novel way in which to manifest their solidarity with the beleaguered Greek people.&lt;br /&gt;The “Je suis Grec,” or ‘I am Greek’ movement, encourages the Nantais and all other Europeans to express their support for the Greeks during the economic crisis, by submitting applications for Greek citizenship to local consulates and embassies of Greece across Europe. To actively seek to be a Greek at a time when Greece, its people and practices are almost universally reviled by the Western world is breathtakingly touching, verging as it does, upon the incredulous.&lt;br /&gt;The movement’s manifesto however, does more than express support for the Greek people. Instead, it delves deeper in order to identify the global market and financial practices that caused Greece’s quandary, in order to soundly condemn them: &lt;em&gt;“We are outraged by the indignity the Greek people have been subjected to. We are angered by the cowardice and lack of vision of Western governments against the dictatorship of money and infuriated by the indignity to which to the Greek people is currently subject, shamelessly accused of profligacy and fraud, collectively condemned as guilty without a right of self-defence, doomed to an endless austerity and penance in terms reminiscent of Marshal Petain’s seizure of power in 1940 in order to safeguard the ‘moral order.’ Do not forget that those who now sacrifice Greece for the sake of speculation, hope in vain that economic fascism will be satisfied with this small country and that they will escape.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;The gallant French activists of Nantes, in stark opposition to the vast majority of Anglo-Saxon media, view Greece as a victim rather than a perpetrator, a victim of a global system that has seduced it with the siren-song of affluence and an augmented standard of living, all the while enmeshing it within the thraldom of debt and dominance by the West. It is with such an analysis of the current situation in mind that the request for Greek citizenship is worded: “&lt;em&gt;Your Excellency, in solidarity with your country, I, the undersigned………….. request personally to be counted at heart a Greek, to enjoy the rights and duties of dual nationality, and to express this international citizenship with a view to the establishment of universal democracy in liberty and equality, twenty-five centuries after the time of Solon, Cleisthenes, and Pericles.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;It beggars belief that in the face of such impassioned mention of some of the greatest luminaries of the ancient Greek political and legal world that the unimaginative Greek ambassador in Paris has responded to some of these heart-warming requests by bureaucratically pointing out the residence requirement along with other reasons as to why the Nantais’ application for Greek citizenship must be rejected. This, in the diatribist’s view, is most shameful and downright ridiculous. After all, considering that Nantes has been rated by Time among others as ‘Europe’s most liveable city,’ and as an ‘Innovation Hub,’ surely it is invariably more expedient to grant these aspiring Gallic Greeks citizenship. Having thus been Hellenized, they can be the first Greek citizens to be subjected to the full rigours of intense taxation. That will teach them to pay homage to the ancient, rather than the modern Greek political luminaries. Viewed from this prism, the Greco-Nantais hold the keys to Greece’s economic recovery. Given that Nice was a Greek colony and that Nantes also starts with the same letter, perhaps Greece can seek the cession of Nantes as fair and equitable compensation as well.&lt;br /&gt;Brittannic idealistic Greco-worship comes in marked contrast to the behaviour of their Britannic cousins across the channel, who, if the Channel 4 program “Go Greek for a Week,” is anything to go by, look towards inherent elements of the Greek identity to prove that it is the very nature of the Greek that is responsible for the country’s current economic and social woes. According to this way of thinking, just like the noble savage of the eighteenth century, so too can the Greeks not be blamed for their plight. They can’t help being who they are.&lt;br /&gt;The Channel 4’s description of the series is most revealing: Three British families try out the tax, pensions and work practices that caused Greece’s economic crisis and brought on the austerity measures aimed at cutting the deficit and qualifying for EU bailouts. A 54-year-old British hairdresser discovers the generosity of the Greek pensions system, which still allows hairdressers, pastry chefs, radio continuity announcers and people in almost 600 other jobs to retire aged 53 at 90% of their final salary because their jobs are defined as hazardous. A bus driver reaps the rewards of the Greek approach to state-run services, where bus drivers could be paid up to almost double the national average salary and receive extra bonuses for arriving at work early and for checking bus tickets and a British surgeon is delighted to discover how paying income tax the Greek way will transform his disposable income. The personal experiences of the three main characters are supposedly supported by expert interviews that establish the patterns of tax evasion, corruption and mismanagement that are alleged to have helped to sink the Greek economy. Of course&lt;br /&gt;As one British commentator sagely pointed out the description omits mention of whether the participants will have a moustache, wear a traditional skirt or an ancient toga and dance Syrtaki all day long. Further, it has not been made clear whether the winner will be awarded a bottle of Ouzo, or a kilo of olives and/or a frenzied OPA!&lt;br /&gt;No amount of Pericles, Themistocles, Agathocles or Hierocles or their combined achievements, so appreciated by the Nantais of Brittany can serve to allay an apparently inherent Britannic prejudice based on a violent imperialist past and intermittent bouts of social inequality and repression, whereby southern Mediterranean peoples are, by virtue of their current economic and political strength, inferior and thus, legitimate figures of fun. For this reason, a “Go British for a Week,” where gangs of dispossessed youths would be allowed to rampage through the city streets wreaking havoc, policemen would be allowed to shoot suspicious looking foreigners on the grounds that they may be terrorists, soldiers could invade, bomb and/or conquer other countries and appropriate their resources, and tourists would be permitted to travel to southern European countries where they can indulge in binge drinking and public acts of fornication would still not suffice for the purpose of showing how self-righteous, sensationalist and insulting racial stereotyping and schadenfreude is simply not cricket.&lt;br /&gt;If anything, the narrowness of the “Go Greek for a Week,” vision is to be pitied as much as the Nantais’ broad understanding of the wider causes of the Greek tragedy is to be admired for it is self-assured complacency that inhibits assessment and introspection, which finally leads to social decline. What the world, the detractors and the Greeks themselves must learn from their current condition is that the Greek people have been around for an exceedingly long time. During that time, they have reached the pinnacle of brilliance as well as the abyss of degradation. Yet it is this innate ability to shine, albeit intermittently and to carry on despite all adversity that perennially is their greatest triumph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday, 14 January 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-3481744123709529034?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/3481744123709529034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=3481744123709529034' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/3481744123709529034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/3481744123709529034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2012/01/going-greek.html' title='GOING GREEK'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P4R8WkW9MGk/TxNgjIdYUlI/AAAAAAAABDk/RhMVCCvZHDg/s72-c/Capturer8.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-2799663797568129031</id><published>2012-01-07T09:12:00.001+10:30</published><updated>2012-01-09T09:15:14.691+10:30</updated><title type='text'>PARATSOUKLI</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xHL-oRYZHYk/TwocXecJuRI/AAAAAAAABDY/6dYJLLlTFqo/s1600/STUKA96.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695395868397123858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 285px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xHL-oRYZHYk/TwocXecJuRI/AAAAAAAABDY/6dYJLLlTFqo/s400/STUKA96.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Who is that man over there? He looks familiar,"&lt;/em&gt; I asked my aunt, at a recent gathering during the festive season. &lt;em&gt;"That one there? That is Shtuka," &lt;/em&gt;my aunt replied nonchalantly. &lt;em&gt;"Shtuka?" What kind of name is that?"&lt;/em&gt; I asked incredulously. &lt;em&gt;"Surely that can't be Greek." "Oh, that's not his real name,"&lt;/em&gt; my aunt explained unruffled. "&lt;em&gt;That is his nickname. As a young boy during the War, whenever the German Stuka planes would fly over the village, he would point to them and shout "Shtuka, shtuka, shtuka! So the name stuck."&lt;/em&gt; One of my greatest regrets is having gone through three decades of sojourn upon the mortal earth without having acquired any respectable sobriquet whatsoever. The acquisition of a «παρατσούκλι,» is inevitable if one lives in a village, under the close scrutiny of one's peers who are eager to seize upon any idiosyncrasy or eccentricity in order to differentiate people from each other. The city on the other hand, situated thousands of miles away from the ancestral coining trough, confers partial protection against the propagation of such titles.&lt;br /&gt;The παρατσούκλι, a usually familiar or humorous but sometimes pointed or cruel name given to a person or place, as a supposedly appropriate replacement for or addition to one's proper name is ubiquitous in Greek culture and has its roots in hallowed antiquity, where a somewhat unhealthy interest in the subject target's ophthalmic health was displayed. Thus, in times Hellenistic, we come across Antigonos I Monophthalmus (the One-eyed), who was the most eminent successor of Alexander the Great and sovereign of Eastern Mediterranean Asia. He obtained his nickname at an early age when he lost one eye fighting at the seige of Perinthos, as a general of King Philip. His contemporary, on the other hand, Ptolemy, king of Egypt, bore the sobriquet "Lagos" (the rabbit). Several Byzantine emperors also have a number of similar nicknames, such as Anastasius I Dicoros (each of his eyes was a different colour), Alexius V Ducas Murtzuphlus (he with the scowling eyebrows), and Andronicus I Comnenus Misophaes (the aptly named hater of sunlight, since he blinded a great number of his opponents). To these must be added the Byzantine Empress Zoe Carvounopsina (she with coal-black eyes). Some of the Byzatine nicknames did not leave much to the imagination. Basil II was referred to as "o Voulgaroktonos," (the Bulgar-slayer), owing to his propensity to murder the inhabitants of the northern borderlands, whereas Constatine VII, was referred to as "Porphyrogenitus" (born in the purple), as he was born in the purple birthing chamber where legitimate children of the reigning emperors were born. Casting aside toponymic nicknames denoting various emperor's ethnic origins such as Leo the Armenian and Leo the Khazar, one comes across absolute gems of nicknames such as that of the depraved emperor Justinian II Rhinotmetus (the slit-nosed, as his nose was cut off when he was dethroned), ruthless general Michael Lachanodrakon, (cabbage-dragon), writer John Mavropous (black-foot), the gorgeous diplomat Leo Choirosphaktes (slaughterer of the pigs) and his well-endowed brother in law and governor of Dyrrachium, Leo Rhabdouchos (possessor of the rod). To my mind however, the greatest of all the Byzantine nicknames are two. In second place comes that which is applied to the great theologian and saint of the Orthodox Church, Saint John as Chrysostomos - "he of the golden mouth", a fitting testament to his immense oratorical skill. Pausing for a moment to allow for the drum-roll, the undoubtedly greatest Byzantine nickname would have to be that given to the hapless emperor Constantine V as Copronyus - literally "the shit-named," as he reputedly defecated in his baptismal font. No other nickname I have heard matches this one, in savage intensity.&lt;br /&gt;The interesting thing about Greek nicknames is that they are intended for use only behind the so-named victim's back. To refer to him by his sobriquet to his face is an insult. Unfortunately, it often is the case that the nickname is used with so much frequency that to the uninitiated, it appears as the victim's actual name. Just before my wedding, to illustrate the point, I sent an invitation to my cousin, in which I addressed her by her husband's surname Kakaras. Some weeks later, my cousin called to confirm her attendance. Just before she hung up the phone, she coughed nervously and said: &lt;em&gt;"Just so you know, our surname isn't Kakaras. It's a nickname."&lt;/em&gt; My mortally embarrassed father then revealed my cousin's proper married name, one I had never heard, explaining that the sobriquet was earned by my cousin's father in law as a young boy, in a manner similar to emperor Constantine Copronymus.&lt;br /&gt;That is not the only time I have put my foot in it. For reasons best known only to the inhabitants of my mother's village, one kindly uncle is referred to by the sobriquet "o Patsas." Answering the telephone as a young boy, I passed it on to my mother, telling her that "theio Patsa" wanted to speak to her. Having heard this through his receiver, he was decidedly unimpressed which caused my mother infinite embarrassment. It was from that moment on that I decided to make a list of the most interesting and often bizarre nicknames of the village, in order to safeguard myself from embarrassment and cause the least amount of offence possible.&lt;br /&gt;The erstwhile president of the village, the august Mr Avgerinos, is referred to by all and sundry as Katsiapringas. I have absolutely no idea what this strange sounding word means, but would sacrifice all possibilities to earn a bizarre nickname in my own right to find out. Other village nicknames are quite innocent and refer to things that their subjects enjoy. For example, 'o Bouzoukas,' was named thus because he likes bouzouki music, and 'o Dirlandas,' because he enjoys that particular song. 'O Tsimouris,' however, was thusly named, as this means horsefly, and when he was young, his father scolded him for getting in his way, saying: &lt;em&gt;"Stop hanging around me like a horse-fly."&lt;/em&gt; Some nicknames, which appear questionable to say the least in provenance, have entirely innocent explanations. "O Koitaxtis" earned his nickname, not, as one might think, because of a propensity to perve on people during their most private moments, but rather, because when a photo was being taken in the village, he would draw people's gaze to the camera by shouting: "Koitaxte, koitaxte!"&lt;br /&gt;Proof that rather than re-hashing and perpetuating tired and threadbare nicknames that refer to a lifestyle in a village long gone, we are capable of coining our own here in the Antipodes, is one of the more recent nicknames given to an acquaintance, in order to adequately describe his propensity to grow lustrous and luxurious facial hair: Ayatollah. 'O Ayatollas,' introduced by an adult friend ignorant of his real name to others as 'o kyrios Ayatollas,' continues to be so named, despite having divested himself of his facial hair well over a decade ago.&lt;br /&gt;William Hazlitt may have posited that "a nickname is the hardest stone the devil can throw at a man," yet their existence says more for the ingenuity, irreverence and ultimately, affection of those who create them than for the foibles of those upon whom they are foisted. Long may they reign and should any of you gentle readers, become sufficiently inspired as to coin a nickname for the diatribist, do not be afraid to share. For the compliment, most painstakingly crafted, shall be returned. Happy New Year! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 7 January 2012&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-2799663797568129031?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/2799663797568129031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=2799663797568129031' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2799663797568129031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2799663797568129031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2012/01/paratsoukli.html' title='PARATSOUKLI'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xHL-oRYZHYk/TwocXecJuRI/AAAAAAAABDY/6dYJLLlTFqo/s72-c/STUKA96.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-1172275646054293518</id><published>2011-12-24T09:09:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2012-01-09T09:11:10.953+10:30</updated><title type='text'>THE END OF HISTORY</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KsrQ4A6tCes/TwobeSW-diI/AAAAAAAABDM/XubcU3K75Ts/s1600/berlin-wall-freedom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695394885901645346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KsrQ4A6tCes/TwobeSW-diI/AAAAAAAABDM/XubcU3K75Ts/s400/berlin-wall-freedom.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;At the end of the cold war, when walls, barriers and ideologies came crashing down, the eminent social thinker Francis Fukuyama described the new world order as " the end of History." Simply put, the failure of utopian ideologies throughout the ages signifies a triumph of liberalism and laissez faire economics as the most efficient and enduring systems to regulate society. Further than promoting individualism and self-interest, no improvements may be made. Humanity has reached its apex.&lt;br /&gt;Far removed from whether indeed the triumph of self-serving fascistocapitalism is a desirable phenomenon in itself, and certainly the collapse of the sub-prime mortgage market certainly indicates otherwise, the circularity of time defeats Fukuyama's contention. Much as the mosquito continuously circles a light globe, so too does humanity revolve itself around the pursuit of the ideal. Occasionally, as with the Minoans, the Romans or the Babylonians, human endeavours reach an apex before they come crashing down, awaiting a new phoenix, in the form of the Ionians, the Renaissance man or the Mujaheddin to re-light the pyre of "progress." This is all very Heracleitan. In accordance with that ancient philosopher's theories, all matter exists in an essential form, the outward manifestation of which is constantly changing and transforming. If we view the concepts humanity has been grappling with since the extrication of their minds from the bestial fetters of instinct, they are in essence, the same, given a polish or pruning here or there, changing their veneer and in pursuit of which, civilizations perish.&lt;br /&gt;It is therefore important to have a conception of the circularity of the human condition, especially if in accordance with Fukuyama, we have come to yet another impasse and are precariously perched upon the periphery of yet another abyss. It provides us not only with unique insight into our plight, but also consolation that we have been here before many times and in the words of Gloria Gaynor, we will survive.&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, western conceptions of time are linear. Thus, the past does in some way impact on today, but in today's consumerist world of fast-food and drive by experience, what has passed is past. We focus on the present and then embrace tomorrow in a state of blissful ignorance. However, time is circular, the past, present and future exist simultaneously but sadly, knowledge of history in the West is not seen as integral, but as peripheral to one's existence. This is why barely any Australian schoolchildren know who their first prime minister was, while in a recent survey of Greek high school students, most believed 28 October 1940 marked the anniversary of the Greek Revolution.&lt;br /&gt;As Lewis Lapham points out, the study of history furnishes what Dionysius of Halicarnassus praised as "philosophy learned by example." It instills a sense of humour, wards off what Hamlet decried as "the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" and through analysis of similar past situations, know what to expect for the present and future.&lt;br /&gt;Indeed, people unfamiliar with the world in time find themselves marooned in the ceaselessly dissolving and therefore terrifying present, divorced from both the future and the past and surrounded by a siege of images in the news. The mass media promote the impression that urgent issues, such as the various Middle East imbroglios or the Global Financial Crisis arrive like monstrous apparitions, uninvited and unannounced from the four horseman of the apocalypse. Those devoid of history are at a loss to comprehend how and why events come to pass. Not knowing their place in the cosmos, they become an ephemeral audience for three-day wonders and one line jokes. Here today, gone tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;How tragic it is that people will themselves to a status as orphans. Deprived of the feeling of kinship with a larger self and unable to fix their position in time, they do not know the story in old books is actually their own. How then can they make sense of the context of the presence or measure the emptiness or cynicism of society or marshal the strength of their minds against what G K Chesterton called "the small and arrogant oligarchy of those who merely happen to walk around?"&lt;br /&gt;Rather, devoid of a conception of their identity, they confine themselves to a wraith-world of shadow in which reality remains elusive, a world in which they do not partake and upon which they will leave not a trace.&lt;br /&gt;This year has been a year of intense turmoil and suffering. In particular, our country of origin has seen its economy collapse, its society erupt in protest and its example held up to ridicule for the rest of the world. Yet all these things have befallen Greece before, and largely, for the same reasons. It is for the Greeks to search within the detritus of their past in order to understand the causes of their current plight. As the Archbishop of Albania and thinker Anastasios stated in a recent message to the Greek people, we all need to look within ourselves and our history in order to find not only the causes for the current condition, but also the moral and ethical building blocks, in the form of ideals, to overcome it, triumphantly.&lt;br /&gt;Similarly, this year has seen the toppling of three oligarchic regimes in the Arab world and the attempted toppling of another two. Yet the origins of the Arab Spring lie in the clash between orientalism, colonialism, imperialism, socialism and Islamic fundamentalism, which has its origin in geo-political realities that go back at least as far as the Roman and Parthian Empires. Analysts and global leaders would do well to plumb the depths of these realities if they truly are committed to solving such problems and putting an end to so much suffering, for, and especially so in Egypt, where the large Christian minority is facing daily persecution of such a vicious and primitive nature that it would put the worst depredations of the Ottoman Empire to shame, it appears that the problems of corruption and intolerance, continue to persist.&lt;br /&gt;Do we bet on a horse without reading the form guide? Possibly, but we should be stupid if we did so. History is the form guide of life. And we are all co-authors. The Afghan and Iraq Wars, and the short-lived triumph of reactionary capitalism within the fertile soil of globalisation reap a bloody harvest. For two hundred or so years repressive geopolitical theories have extended their sway over the world with the sole aim of combating the spirit of Enlightenment. Let us pray therefore that history is not at an end, for it protects the future against the past and that the coming year ushers in a period of understanding, peace and humanity. To all of you, avid readers of the Diatribe, we wish, forst having thanked you for your patience and condescension throughout the year, Καλά Χριστούγεννια και ο,τι καλύτερο για τον καινούργιο χρόνο.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday, 24 December 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-1172275646054293518?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/1172275646054293518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=1172275646054293518' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/1172275646054293518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/1172275646054293518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/12/end-of-history.html' title='THE END OF HISTORY'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KsrQ4A6tCes/TwobeSW-diI/AAAAAAAABDM/XubcU3K75Ts/s72-c/berlin-wall-freedom.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-3261043748351155131</id><published>2011-12-17T09:52:00.001+10:30</published><updated>2011-12-19T09:54:18.310+10:30</updated><title type='text'>TAJ MAHALIA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TD0TPzJt6vQ/Tu52FO3FvbI/AAAAAAAABDA/xp5EMxyYDkk/s1600/greece%2Bfuck.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687613211676097970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TD0TPzJt6vQ/Tu52FO3FvbI/AAAAAAAABDA/xp5EMxyYDkk/s400/greece%2Bfuck.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It is a little known fact that Greek civilization has its own counterpart to the Taj Mahal. Unlike Shah Jahan’s gleaming edifice, ours lies in ruins. Again unlike Shah Jahan, whose edifice is a testament to his love and grief for his beloved wife Mumtaz and which, serving as her final resting place, is but a glorified tomb, Antigoneia, now in Albania, was a living, bustling city, constructed by the Epirot king Pyrrhus, as a gesture of love towards his wife Antigone, in the third century BC.&lt;br /&gt;Perched high above the valley of the river Drinos, directly opposite the stone city of Argyrokastro, Antigoneia, commands the main artery towards Illyria to the north and the rest of Epirus to the south. Today, all that remains of it are a few shattered columns, and the base of some massive stone walls, for this was one of the seventy Epirot cities destroyed by the Roman legions of Aemilius Paulus in 167 BC. Scratch in the dirt however, and you uncover mosaics of breathtaking poignancy, sporting Greek inscriptions. These have been allowed to moulder away among the silent grasses and the few surviving trees, felled by the order of the Albanian dictator Enver Hoxha, who did not want Antigoneia being used as a place of pilgrimage or entertainment by the Greeks of the region, and so all and sundry may loot and pillage what little remains to tell the tale of this most ancient Greek city, as well.&lt;br /&gt;Some kilometres away, perched high upon a hill in the verdant district of Delvino, lies another ruined city of Pyrrhus, Phoenice, the capital of the ancient Epirot tribe of the Chaonians and one of the northern most archeological site of the classical period. From the second half of the fifth century BC, an acropolis was erected on the site, while at the end of the next century, Pyrrhus expanded the city’s walls, which consisted of massive blocks up to three metres thick, and made the city his capital. Strolling about the dusty archeological site now, consisting of the base of Pyrrhus’ massive walls, a few lintels and columns overgrown with grass, it is difficult to imagine that this was the birthplace of federalism in Northern Greece. When in 233 BC, Queen Deidamia II was assassinated, the Epirotes abolished the monarchy, and uniting the major Epirote Tribes of the Chaonians, Molossians and Thesprotians, instituted a system of federal government known as the Epirote League.&lt;br /&gt;Squatting on the dusty ground of what today is a sleepy backwater, to get a closer view of the intricate dry wall construction of all that remains of Phoenice’s walls, it is not easy to conjure images of these walls being manned and then surrendered by Gaulish mercenaries to the megalomanic Illyrian Queen Teuta, only to be reconquered by the Epirotes. These are the stones that bear mute testimony to the Epirotes’ valiant attempts to navigate their way through the tortuous waters of Illyrian rapacity and Roman expansionism, vainly trying to preserve their independence, only to lose it and face destruction at the end of the Third Macedonian War. One can gain a lasting impression of the destruction caused by the Romans who levelled the city by those same stones, which have largely lain where they were overthrown, in a manner akin to the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, ever since.&lt;br /&gt;The enormity of some crimes are too heinous to bear even for their perpetrators and the following centuries do not reveal strong traces of a Roman presence in Phoenice and Antigoneia. Granted, the Emperor Justinian did construct fortifications on a hill adjacent to Phoenice, and during the fifth and sixth centuries, the city was listed a see of a bishopric, hosting a number of churches, a baptistery and a basilica. However, subsequent to this time, the city vanishes, as the urban centre of the area was moved to the Mesopotamos, a vibrant centre of Hellenism to the present day.&lt;br /&gt;The existence of the ruins at Phoenice and Antigoneia, attesting to the antiquity of the Greek presence there, have proved to be a headache for subsequent rulers. During the formal excavations of the area in 1924-1928 by an Italian Archaeological Mission, which was a political tool for Mussolini’s nationalistic ambitions in Albania, Italian archaeologists, led by the fascist prehistorian Luigi Ugolini, were dismayed to have found only a few “Illyrian” artefacts, as this was inimical to their desire to exploit Albanian nationalist sentiment in the region, at the expense of the Greek ethnic consciousness of the majority of the local population. Similarly, a survey conducted by Albanian archaeologists Bace and Bushati in 1989, glossed over the archaeology of the classical period, reporting Hellenistic domiciles, Roman houses and drawing implausible parallels between excavated dwellings and medieval Albanian ones. They also found an “egalitarian” nature among the excavated dwellings, in line with the philosophy of “self-reliance” propagated by the Albanian communist state during that period.&lt;br /&gt;Even today, and despite Phoenice and Antigoneia falling squarely with the Albanian recognized “Greek minority zone,” the state experience immense difficulty in accepting that the archeological sites that pepper the landscape and are allowed to erode away, are of Greek origin. Some of their attempts to prove otherwise, such as the annual Festival of Pagan Rites and Popular Games in Antigoneia, involving rather sad people pretending to be Illyrians, though no one really knows just what Illyrians were like, are rather amusing. What is more insidious however, is the deliberate vandalism of the historic sites in displays of unrestrained racial intolerance.&lt;br /&gt;The perpetrators of the disgusting act of philistinism that saw the words “Greece Fuck” spray-painted upon the ruins of Phoenice in recent weeks speaks volumes as to how Albanians view the ruins that their government would have them believe are Illyrian. Casting aside for a moment as spurious the argument that the grammatical construction employed in the slogan is an imperative and that the authors are thus exhorting the Greek population to copulate, presumably in order to arrest their declining birthrate, it is clear that the authors of this act of cultural barbarism do not identify these archaeological remains as forming part of their culture or identity. Nor do they see them as articles of integral historical importance to the land in which they slumber, and thus, worthy of respect. Instead, they see them as the hated and unwanted remnants of an equally hated and unwanted people, which should be defiled and reviled, as having no place in the Albanian national narrative.&lt;br /&gt;The Greeks of Northern Epirus, an autochthonous population who form the largest concentration of Greeks contiguous to the Greek border, are used to such vilification. For years they have endured policies that denied them their names, language, religion and customs. Now, they are being denied their right to their own history by Balkan bigots who have difficulty accepting that they are ruling a grudging population who was subjected to their depredations by force, as well as understanding that cultural and historic diversity and pluralism enrich and benefit societies.&lt;br /&gt;There are no prizes for having a more ancient lineage in an area. However, for the impoverished and often harassed Greeks of Northern Epirus, their historical identity is, in many cases, their sole source of pride. Yet they themselves do not deny that the ancient monuments of Phoenice and Antigoneia do not belong to them, but to the whole world as a lasting testament to mankind’s ingenuity. They deserve protection, not desecration. To you, o criminals who have defiled the history of the land you profess to love, these words from Dean Koontz: &lt;em&gt;“We’re not here to leave a mark, bro… We’re here to revel in the world, to soak in the awesomeness of it, to enjoy the ride. The world’s maximum perfect as it is, beauty from horizon to horizon. Any mark any of us tries to leave- hell its only graffitti. Any mark anyone leaves is no better than vandalism.”&lt;/em&gt; And in case you are asking, no, Greece does not want to copulate with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday, 17 December 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-3261043748351155131?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/3261043748351155131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=3261043748351155131' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/3261043748351155131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/3261043748351155131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/12/taj-mahalia.html' title='TAJ MAHALIA'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TD0TPzJt6vQ/Tu52FO3FvbI/AAAAAAAABDA/xp5EMxyYDkk/s72-c/greece%2Bfuck.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-7716897677743016945</id><published>2011-12-10T09:58:00.002+10:30</published><updated>2011-12-12T10:00:59.239+10:30</updated><title type='text'>ANTHEMS</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5LahjwK1_fs/TuU9GlYRYUI/AAAAAAAABC0/kKOxvnrtzaQ/s1600/advance_australia_fair.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685017287947542850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 257px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 350px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5LahjwK1_fs/TuU9GlYRYUI/AAAAAAAABC0/kKOxvnrtzaQ/s400/advance_australia_fair.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; In the classic Greek coming of age novel "Leonis' Diary" (Το ημερολ όγιο του Λεωνή), Giorgos Theotokas paints a cross-generational picture of Greeks of pre-First World War Constantinople, encouraged by their compatriots success in the Balkan Wars, taking the final step in totally rejecting their status as Ottoman subjects and their place in the racially and religiously stratified Ottoman Empire. Among the young Leonis' classmates, this is manifested by one of them, Menos, refusing to learn Turkish or participate in Turkish class, despite this affecting his grades on his report card. In another vivid scene, Leonis' classmates, in an act of defiance against their overlords and by way of emancipation through the assertion of their own political and ethnic identity, refuse to cheer and chant pro-Ottoman and German slogans, on the occasion of the visit of the German Kaiser to the City. By rejecting the paraphernalia of propaganda, Leonis' classmates signified that they no longer felt bound by or part of the State that claimed a proprietary interest in them, while Leonis, more cautious, mused that the Greek nation was one that was "newly impoverished."&lt;br /&gt;States employ a multitude of flags and symbols designed to invoke a feeling of unity that will underpin and reinforce its guiding ideologies. One of the most paramount of these, is the national anthem, a patriotic musical composition that evokes and eulogizes the history, traditions and struggles of a people, recognized or instituted by a nation's government as its official song, or by convention, through the use of the people. Thus, the «Υπερμάχω Στρατηγώ,» an Orthodox Hymn to the Theotokos as Defender General composed during Byzantine times, as far back as 676, in thanksgiving for her miraculous deliverance of the people of Constantinople from siege has been chanted by Greeks in times of delivery from evil ever since and has widely been held to be an unofficial anthem of the Greek people.&lt;br /&gt;Despite this most antique pedigree, national anthems are relatively recent inventions, rising to prominence in post-Napoleonic Europe in the nineteenth century, though some others predate this period, in origin, if not in institution, such as the Wilhelmus, written in 1568 during the Dutch Revolt but only officially adopted in 1932. Spain's national anthem, the Royal March, dates from 1770 and was adopted in 1780, while the Marseillaise, which in turn inspired the "Thourios," Rigas Pheraios' rousing call to action, was adopted in 1795 in France. Serbia, interestingly enough, was the first Balkan nation to have a national anthem, in 1804.&lt;br /&gt;Despite the popularity of "Thourios," its universalist and inclusionary sentiments, calling upon all oppressed Balkan Christians of diverse nationalities to unite, could not render it an appropriate propaganda vehicle for an ethnically exclusionist nation state. As a result, Dionysios Solomos' 1823 Hymn to Liberty was adopted in 1865, as Greece's national anthem, all one hundred and fifty eight stanzas of it, making it the longest national anthem in the world. Funnily enough, there exist two choral versions of the anthem, both written by Corfiot operatic composer Nikolaos Mantzaros, a longer and a shorter, both of which are relatively uninspiring and serve to render trivial or mind-numbingly banal, the rousing and moving sentiments of Solomos' masterpiece. Had the Hymn been set to the stirring triumphal march of Verdi's Aida (Egypt's anthem under the khedives), chances are our nation would have been way cooler.&lt;br /&gt;Greece's founding myth, as conveniently contained within its national anthem is that of the necessity of armed struggle by a renascent people against tyranny, in defence of liberty. Australia's national anthem on the other hand, written in 1878 but only adopted in 1984, is an adaptation of a paean, penned by Peter McCormick, celebrating the bounty of Australia and the courage of the British who established themselves there, and inviting further colonization by "loyal sons". In its current form, it still celebrates the bounty of Australia, while letting people who have come "across the seas" know that "we've boundless plains to share." Considering successive governments' immigration policies, perhaps a footnote should be added to this stanza, noting that the verse does not apply to boat people. Either that, or an amendment such as "for those who've come across the seas, in an above board and legal manner pursuant to the Migration Amendment (Excision from Migration Zone) Act 2001," is in order. This notwithstanding, it is evident from the lyrics, that Australia's founding myth is that it is a land of opportunity, in which everyone may have a share.&lt;br /&gt;Both the lyrics and the melody of the anthem have been criticized as being dull and unendearing to the Australian people. In 2011, for example, National Party Senator Sandy Macdonald opined that Advance Australia Fair is so boring that the nation risks singing itself to sleep with boring music and words impossible to understand. One person however, who does not agree, is former NKEE journalist Dimitris Tsahouridis, who is wont to burst into impromptu renditions of the anthem in public places. Another is our very own Victorian multicultural minister, Nicholas Kotsiras, who believes that schoolchildren should sing the national anthem once a week as part of an "Australian education" program which he says will help combat racism. According to the minister, singing the anthem would not be divisive or ostracise children from migrant families. Quite the contrary, it would, according to his view, be instrumental in "keeping our cultural identity but also uniting us as Victorians, as Australians." As such, the signing of the anthem is designed to make children from different backgrounds feel like they are welcome and that in turn also prevents extremism from taking hold.&lt;br /&gt;The minister should be applauded for his initiative. In a country that openly accepts people of all walks of life and religious persuasions, there is always a risk that members of society, who are limited as to their ability to integrate owing to economic, linguistic or religious factors will feel increasingly isolated and ghettoized as a result. The ensuing frustration could further inhibit their successful integration into what is a remarkably tolerant and egalitarian society and limit their ability to espouse or pay lip service to these values. The recent objection by a Muslim family to an application by a Middle Eastern Christian church to construct a place of worship on land it owns in the western suburbs, on the basis that it did not want its "children growing up near a church, as this is offensive," is a case in point. All Australian children need to know that they have a stake in their country, just as all Australian children need to respect and cherish their counterparts of diverse backgrounds. Tolerance, understanding and celebration of diversity are values that must be taught, if they are to be respected and espoused.&lt;br /&gt;Unlike other anthems, which focus on violence, racial superiority and culturally or racially exclusivist ideals, the Australian national anthem provides a blank canvas of opportunity for all to share. It neither proscribes, nor imposes any values other than self-respect. Nor does it demand that non-Anglo-Celtic Australians divest themselves of their cultural and linguistic heritage. Instead, it embraces these and the minister should thus not be pilloried for his attempts to utilize it in order to foster a sense of community among schoolchildren.&lt;br /&gt;In a post-nationalistic Western world, we may be forgiven for being smug about the need for outdated national anthems and other banal nationalistic paraphernalia. However, various instances of outward rejection of Australian values of tolerance and mutual respect by isolated individuals and communities should not be overlooked, and steps taken to address these, not by denigrating them but instead, by causing them to focus on what unites us, rather than what divides us. Though seemingly trivial, Minister Kotsiras' approach is a step in the right direction. We may applaud Ira Glasser's sentiments to the effect that: "You will be pleased to know I stand obediently for the national anthem, though of course I would defend your right to remain seated should you so decide," as long as the anthem itself is respected, lest we, like the poet Keats lament of our society: &lt;em&gt;"Thy plaintive anthem fades/ Past near meadows/Up the hill-side; and now tis buried deep:/Was it a vision or a waking dream?/Fled is that music: - Do I wake or sleep?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 10 December 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-7716897677743016945?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/7716897677743016945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=7716897677743016945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7716897677743016945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7716897677743016945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/12/anthems.html' title='ANTHEMS'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5LahjwK1_fs/TuU9GlYRYUI/AAAAAAAABC0/kKOxvnrtzaQ/s72-c/advance_australia_fair.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-8435473776479585728</id><published>2011-12-03T09:06:00.001+10:30</published><updated>2011-12-05T09:10:15.531+10:30</updated><title type='text'>RETSINA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hMKUHbjLdSw/Ttv2vt8gJtI/AAAAAAAABCo/k9SjSYfCHS4/s1600/Pine_resin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682406654505658066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 382px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hMKUHbjLdSw/Ttv2vt8gJtI/AAAAAAAABCo/k9SjSYfCHS4/s400/Pine_resin.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When I was young, my grandfather would lead an annual pilgrimage to Mount Martha on the Mornington Peninsula, in avid and singular pursuit of his one thing needful: pine resin. My father would drive him up to the mountain and he would wander through the pines, touching their trunks, appraising them with the eye of a worldly connoisseur choosing which fish would be sacrificed to the demands of his palette in a Chinese restaurant and then move on.&lt;br /&gt;Perched high above the breeze-ruffled bay, the air of Mount Martha would invariably be thick with tiny forest flies. My role in the solemn procession was to lunge at them maniacally with my hands in an quixotic attempt to swat them. Up above us, Bunya pines, quite distinct from the Aleppo Pines of my grandfather's homeland on the island of Samos, would swarm over the bright mountainside, greedy to drink the vaults of milky light above.&lt;br /&gt;The task of pine resin extraction is easy enough for a sanguinary pursuit: First, find your tree, then make a small cut in the tree with a double-headed pick, then knock in a collecting tray just beneath the wound. Slowly, inexorably, the pierced tree will bled its sorrow and its collective memory of all its martyred brethren into said tray in the form of a colourless resin, only to heal within a fortnight. The resin in turn forms sticky white lumps in the warm air, reminiscent of cake icing. Should the perpetrators of this heinous violation require further resin, then they may return three weeks later, making a new cut just above the old one, and repeating the process. After a while, the tree looks like a laddered stocking, but it continues to grow regardless, in silent protest.&lt;br /&gt;Retsina, is the by-product of the exquisite marriage of the fundamental essence of the pine tree with white wine. Small pieces of pine resin are added to the grape must during fermentation. The pieces stay mixed with the must, and elute an oily resin film on the liquid surface. When the wine is then siphoned off the lees, it is clarified and the solids and surface film are removed. The finished golden gleaming product, in our case, would then be reposited in vast oak barrels that loomed menacingly in my grandfather's gloomy garage, forming the background, and quite often the subject for some of my more vivid childhood nightmares.&lt;br /&gt;On the whole, western wine sophisticates are meant to abjure retsina as a dull wine vulgarly adulterated. I, on the other hand revere it as Olympian nectar. After all, one can sometimes have a surfeit of sophistication, and a tumblerful (for it is heresy to imbibe retsina from a wineglass) of retsina is an unrivalled antidote to the dreary quest after ultra-refined superlatives and contrived nuance.&lt;br /&gt;Retsina ventilates the digestive tract, settles the stomach and fumigates the spirits. No other beverage connects us quite as faithfully to dinner with Plutarch, Theophrastus and - who knows? - perhaps even wily old Homer himself, parched after an evening's firelit recitation, fighting over a flagon with my taciturn grandfather.&lt;br /&gt;Not only is retsina most ancient in provenance, it is, in keeping with its gloriously acrid taste, an untameable, revolutionary wine, the first blow of resistance of a freedom-loving people against the unspeakably unutterable depredations of Western Imperialism, the tyranny of domestic bliss or any other type oppression one cares to mention.&lt;br /&gt;My grandfather was a case in point. After dinner, my garrulous grandmother having ceased relating sundry snippets of news, he would often remove himself mysteriously from the table, without ever offering a hint as to his imminent destination. One time, I followed him secretly, down the back door steps and through the garden, into the garage. There he procured from a drawer a plastic siphon, which he attached to one of the barrels and seated upon a stool, he placed the other end of the tube between his lips and began to draw the liquid gold into his mouth with gusto. Though young, I instinctively knew that I had chanced upon a holy mystery of pleasure and that to impinge or otherwise disturb its proceedings would be tantamount to sacrilege, so I made myself scarce, only to return an hour later, worried that my grandfather had failed to emerge from his hermitage.&lt;br /&gt;I found him on the floor, tube fallen from his mouth, stool overturned, clutching his head in his hands, weeping. Terrified, I ran back into the house yelling: &lt;em&gt;"Γιαγιά, γιαγιά! Something has happened to παππού. He is sitting on the ground in the garage crying." "Hmph!"&lt;/em&gt; my grandmother snorted. &lt;em&gt;"Don't fret. There is nothing wrong with him. He's probably drunk. This is what he always does. He goes down there, starts drinking, and then he remembers his father and his brothers, and only God knows what else and he starts bawling his eyes out. It's nothing. Pay him no mind."&lt;/em&gt; I did not know then what my shy and impenetrable grandfather had seen as a young boy during the Asia Minor catastrophe, nor the gruesome brutality of man that he experienced in the mountains of Northern Epirus during the Second World War. Nonetheless, I don't believe that I ever loved him more than I did at that moment, when I determined that retsina was the drink that defied the world and memory and would be my preferred beverage of resistance from that day hence.&lt;br /&gt;While scholars agree that retsina was been made continuously for at least two thousand years, opinions differ as to why. Some would have us believe that it originated from the practice of sealing wine amphorae with Aleppo resin, in order to render them impermeable and thus not liable to spoil. I would rather render credible the stories that claim that the Roman sots who invaded Greece plundered the people's wine. The angry Greeks turned to infusing their wine with pine resin as a way of extending their stores and deterring their thirsty conquerors. That the Romans were turned off by such blatant acts of defiance can be evidenced by Columella, who in his work &lt;em&gt;De Re Rustica&lt;/em&gt;, described the different types of resin that could be used in wine but recommended that the practice not be used for the best wines, as this created an unpleasant flavour. His contemporary, Pliny the Elder, having lived among the Greeks of Magna Graecia, however, did recommend the addition of resin to fermenting wine must, in his work &lt;em&gt;Naturalis Historia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;On the whole, westerners did not embrace retsina and their prejudice against the retsina-sipping easterners of Byzantium even took centre stage in the writings of the historian Liutprand of Cremona, who in his &lt;em&gt;Relatio de Legatione Constantinopolitana&lt;/em&gt; complained that, when sent in 968 to Constantinople to arrange a marriage between the daughter of Emperor Romanos and the future Holy Roman Emperor Otto II, he was treated rudely, because he was served goat and an "undrinkable" wine, mixed with resin and pitch. Yet the final anti-western credentials of the fluid are certainly proved by the fact that an excess of undiluted retsina is said to have proved mortal for the crusading kings Eric I of Denmark and Sigurd I of Norway.&lt;br /&gt;A few years ago, I went to visit my grandfather's brother in law. Hearty and hale in his nineties, he immediately produced a bottle of retsina and bade me drink. To my everlasting shame, I confessed to him that for some years, whenever any form of alcohol would touch my lips, I would be afflicted with a debilitating migraine and would thus regrettably abstain. He shuddered: &lt;em&gt;"Are you sure?"&lt;/em&gt; His brow, furrowed in perplexity, he remained silent for a long while. Then, summoning up his courage, he asked: &lt;em&gt;"Pardon me for saying so, but could this be a psychological problem? It just isn't natural for you not to drink retsina. Your grandfather drank it, so does your father. Maybe you should seek help. It just doesn't make sense."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;What does not make sense, is being denied communion in a beverage that constitutes the collective memory of an unbroken succession of all the male members of my grandfather's family. Nonetheless, completely dry and acerbic, I still relish the whisper of the pine tree in our wine, and cling to the memory of defiant Greeks seeking respite from the bitterness of existence and domination millenia ago, all with the same cooling draught.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 3 December 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-8435473776479585728?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/8435473776479585728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=8435473776479585728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/8435473776479585728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/8435473776479585728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/12/retsina.html' title='RETSINA'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hMKUHbjLdSw/Ttv2vt8gJtI/AAAAAAAABCo/k9SjSYfCHS4/s72-c/Pine_resin.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-2814716539022031068</id><published>2011-11-26T09:54:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2011-11-28T09:56:45.321+10:30</updated><title type='text'>SAMOS: THE INDEPENDENT ISLE 1832-1912</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aW31reNr2Mw/TtLHKRZnJ3I/AAAAAAAABCc/zZY-ri6LpH0/s1600/PhotoOldSamianFlag.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679821059351062386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 262px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aW31reNr2Mw/TtLHKRZnJ3I/AAAAAAAABCc/zZY-ri6LpH0/s400/PhotoOldSamianFlag.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Realpolitik, being the politics of expediency and vested interest often results in the sidelining of small nations and the imposition of treaties or status quo which are onerous and unjust. The fact that Cyprus was not permitted by the Great Powers in the fifties and after a lengthy struggle, to unite with its motherland testifies to the importance of vested interest and power struggles over the right of a people to self-determination. However, it is a little known fact that such unjust arrangements were not new to the Mediterranean. Indeed, the Cyprus debacle had its precedent in similar diplomatic constructions made one hundred years prior, causing untold suffering, misery and social upheaval to the island of Crete and even before that, to the people of the independent principality of Samos.&lt;br /&gt;During the Greek revolution, Turks on the Ionian coast of Asia Minor lived in mortal fear of the pirates across the narrow straits of Dar Bogaz. The indomitable Samians, of the first Greeks to raise themselves in revolt against the Ottomans, would cruise up and down the coastline, freeing the Greek villages and marauding Ottoman camps and ports, rendering their access to the aegean Sea and to mainland Greece well nigh impossible. If the Ottomans had free access had landed, especially during the difficult years of 1823-4, perhaps the revolution would not have been successful. As well, Samians were the only Greeks who not only revolted of their own accord, but also ‘exported’ it to other regions of Greece. Lykourgos Logothetis landed on Chios on 11 March 1821 and immediately proclaimed a revolution there.&lt;br /&gt;The Ottomans endeavoured on several occasions to stamp out Samian revolutionary activity to no avail. The large naval invasion of 6 August 1824 met with total disaster off the coast of Mycale and never again did the Ottomans attempt to reclaim the island and the Samians set about forming a provisional government headed by the Metropolitan of Karlovasion. Delegates from Samos attended the negotiations leading to the signing of the London protocol on 3 February 1830. In accordance with this document, all Greek areas that had taken up arms against the Ottomans were to be included in the fledgling Greek State. However, Samos was deemed to be too close to Turkey and thus of too much strategic importance to be given to Greece by the Great Powers. At a public meeting soon after, the Samians voted unanimously “that Samos would always remain an integral part of the Greek State.” The Samians also vowed to continue the struggle for enosis.&lt;br /&gt;Thus the provisional government continued to send money to the Greek government as well as funding insurrections of guerilla groups in parts of unliberated Greece. It also ensured that supply lines were kept open, stepping up its naval blockade of Turkey and the re-occupation of the coast of Asia Minor. The Sultan, in an attempt to protect himself from Samian belligerence appealed to the Great Powers, who decided to grant Samos autonomous status under a Greek regent, on 10 December 1832. Henceforth, Samos would be an independent principality under the suzerainty of the Sultan and defended by a Samian home guard. All Ottoman troops were to evacuate the island. The Samian principality was to pay yearly tribute to the Sultan and was also to have its own flag, first hoisted by Phanariot Constantine Mousouros on 12 May 1834. It featured a blue background symbolising the Greek character of the island and a white triangle in the centre, to symbolize the fact that Samos was under the “protection” of the three Great Powers (Britain, France and Russia). In the centre of the triangle was a red cross, to assure the inhabitants that their religion would be respected by the Ottoman Empire. In later years, the flag was changed to the Greek flag, although the two top panels above the white cross were red instead of blue.&lt;br /&gt;When Stephanos Vogoridis, the first Greek regent landed in Samos, he was met with widespread consternation. The age old class distinction between the wealthy landowners “kallikanzaroi” who tended to look upon a Samos under the Regency as a secure and stable state and the “karmanioloi” meaning supporters of the guillotine who represented the peasants and the merchants, once more began to cause friction in Samian society. Stephanos Vogoridis tended to curry favour with the kallikanzaroi who supported his regime and introduced a set of repressive measures against the populace, curbing their freedom of movement and their freedom of speech. He further alienated the populace by exiling the leaders of the Samian Revolution and through oppressive taxation of agricultural produce.&lt;br /&gt;As a result of his harsh rule, repeated revolts broke out which were suppressed with surprising ferocity. Finally, in 1849, Vogoridis was swept away from power and the Sultan was forced to grant a constitution to the inhabitants. The so-called “Organic Charter” stated that Samos would be ruled by an Orthodox Christian Regent appointed by the Sultan as well as a parliament of four members, elected by a council of elders of the largest villages. These elders formed the legislative body of the island and oversaw also the function of the public service. In reality however, the Sultan saw the 1849 revolt as a means to re-introduce Ottoman troops to the island. The Regents which followed Vogoridis tended to be devoted followers of the Sultan who sought only personal aggrandizement and enrichment and as a result, they were dethroned by the Samians with surprising regularity.&lt;br /&gt;However, after the demise of Vogoridis, Samos enjoyed an unprecedented cultural and economic renaissance. The efficiency of its civil administration was such that the Greeks would send their public servants to Samos for study tours and training. Samos boasted a comprehensive legal code, a three-tiered judicial system with a court of appeal, a land registry and a registry of births, death and marriages. The capital of the principality was moved to Vathy in 1854 and much time and effort was expended in beautifying the city with public buildings in the neoclassical style. Samos also boasted a system of public transport in the main cities of Vathy and Karlovassion. Tram lines run by the State ran through these cities till 1937 while other ambitious public works, such as the carriage roads that were hacked across the mountains to allow passage from Marathokambos in the far west to Vathy in the east.&lt;br /&gt;The efficient and close rule of the independent principality of Samos could only be effected through the economic resurgence of the island. During the Regency, Samos became world famous for its tobacco, which was held to be of the finest quality. Vast tracts of agricultural land were given over to the cultivation of this cash crop, which was exported and processed in Samian owned cigarette factories in Egypt, Europe and the Middle East. Carathanassis &amp;amp; Co cigarette plants were found in China, Japan Canada and America.&lt;br /&gt;The processing of hides into leather was also an important industry, especially in Karlovassion while the famous Samian wine, immortalised by Byron and by Shakespeare (King Richard drowned his brother in a vat of Samian moschato wine) continued to be cultivated and processed in Mytilenioi and other villages. Shipping also was of great importance, the deep-water harbour at Vathy allowing the embarkation of large ships.&lt;br /&gt;In order to capitalize on Samian prosperity, many Greek immigrants from Asia Minor began to flood the island, at first in search of seasonal labour and often settled down.&lt;br /&gt;The economic miracle of Samos allowed great emphasis to be given to education by the State. Between 1851 to 1853, a school was built in every village on the island and literacy programs were put in place. High Schools and Business Colleges were also built in Karlovassion as well as a Technical College at Vathy. Wealthy merchants and shipowners also provided funds for the erection of schools. Archdeacon Euthimios Kalymnios of Jerusalem, whose family began a slow migration from Asia Minor to the village of Mytilenioi during this time, provided the funds for the erection of the Euthimiada Scholi, a high school in this large agricultural village.&lt;br /&gt;This enlightened view of the role of the state extended even further. In 1909, Samos became the first state in the entire world to legislate for the compulsory tuition of the international language Esperanto in all schools. It was believed that teaching this language would foster the worldwide brotherhood of mankind. Teaching ceased after the union of Samos with Greece. Many newspapers and publishing houses also sprung up during this time. Samian newspapers were known for their caustic wit, their defence of democracy, championing of union with Greece and burning social critique.&lt;br /&gt;The late nineteenth century also sparked great interest in the rich ancient past of the island. Under the direction of the Regents, archaeological digs took place at the ancient capital at Pythagoreion, as well as at Heraion, where the largest Greek temple ever built, dedicated to the Greek goddess Hera, existed. Important historical and archaeological works such as those of Stamatiadis were published, as well as works of the Samian national poet George Kleanthis and many annotated translations of ancient Samian philosophers such as Pythagoras and Aristarchus. More so than in any other area of Greece did the re-discovery of the ancient past have such great effect. Even today, the majority of Samians bear ancient names, which their ancestors gave to their children as a popular fad during this period. Important Mathematical treatises and proofs were published by the scholar-Regent Constantine Karatheodoris, who also translated famous works of Arab philosophers in Greek in 1891.&lt;br /&gt;By the beginning of the twentieth century, it was apparent to all except the most conservative that the Regency, an anachronism in the age of nationalism, was a thing of the past. Social strife began to grow once more as incompetent Regents were sent to govern the island. This caused a review of the political system so that it could be re-organised along party lines. Themistocles Sophoulis, a lawyer of Vathy formed the Progressive Movement, affiliated with the liberals of Eleutherios Venizelos in Greece. Through its newspapers, Nea Zoi and Fos, it agitated for union with Greece and encouraged popular dissent against the Regents. He was instrumental in organizing the revolt against repressive Regent Andreas Kopasis on 12 May 1908, as a result of which, he and his followers were sentenced to death, commuted to exile. Even in Athens however, Sophoulis campaigned for union. He encouraged the formation of guerilla bands in the villages, which engaged in periodic skirmishes with the Turkish garrison.&lt;br /&gt;The assassination of Regent Kopasis in 1912 by Stavros Baretis was held as an act of deliverance against a hated tyrant. Sophoulis quickly landed on the island and called a national convention on the issue of union with Greece. In the meantime, victorious Greek armies were liberating Macedonia and Epirus and Sophoulis gauged that there was no time to lose. On 11 November 1912, at Vathy, Sophoulis proclaimed the Union of Samos with Greece under in front of an ecstatic crowd. The Turkish garrison was overpowered and compelled to leave the island, while a provisional government was formed. Strangely enough, there was no response from the Greek government, causing Sophoulis to fire off his famous “well do you want us or not?” telegram to the Greek government. Finally, amid tears of jubilation, on 2 March 1913, Greek troops arrived on the island and hoisted the Greek flag.&lt;br /&gt;The 11 November 1912 is an important event in the Greek calendar. Samos’ fate directly influenced that of Crete, which enjoyed a similar regime and are in stark contrast to the sad fate of their sister island, Cyprus. In an aberration of history, a small island became a major player in the politics of the Mediterranean. The egalitarian ethos of the Samians, which was very sensitive to social inequality led to the formation of an enlightened welfare state with free schools, subsidized medical care and public transport decades before such concepts became accepted in the larger, industrial nations. Sophoulis lent his talents to the prime-ministership of Greece and steered the country on the path of reconciliation after the disastrous civil war in 1948 and in yet another aberration of history, Samos, the hub of the Greek revolution and the fomenter of social change, is now a sleepy backwater, albeit strewn with relics of its glorious past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 19 and 36 November 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-2814716539022031068?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/2814716539022031068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=2814716539022031068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2814716539022031068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2814716539022031068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/11/samos-independent-isle-1832-1912.html' title='SAMOS: THE INDEPENDENT ISLE 1832-1912'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aW31reNr2Mw/TtLHKRZnJ3I/AAAAAAAABCc/zZY-ri6LpH0/s72-c/PhotoOldSamianFlag.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-7955422690567827043</id><published>2011-11-05T12:08:00.001+10:30</published><updated>2011-11-09T12:14:52.027+10:30</updated><title type='text'>OXI 2011</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ss89t0lOWc8/TrnbAxQUkZI/AAAAAAAABCQ/nmM8K9HEhjE/s1600/oxi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672806011918127506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ss89t0lOWc8/TrnbAxQUkZI/AAAAAAAABCQ/nmM8K9HEhjE/s400/oxi.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The day of OXI, commemorating the brave refusal of Greek dictator Ioannis Metaxas to allow the Italian army to occupy strategic parts of Greece has a special place in the hearts of the Greek people for two reasons. Firstly, various historical parallels can be drawn from this singular act of defiance against superior forces, throughout Greek history, stemming from the Persian Wars, where various Greek city states held out against Persian expansionism, Byzantium, where an increasingly beleaguered and impoverished Empire managed, after its sack by the Crusaders in 1204 to hold out against the ravages of sundry Latins, Turks and Bulgars, struggling on until the final death blow in 1453. There are also parallels to be drawn from the Souliotes, and a multitude of battles in the Greek revolution, the fall of Mesolongi, the battle of Alamana, to name but a few. What all these events have in common is that they are touted as instances where a few heroic Greeks united to defy an aggressive foe. The qualities that are emphasized, are defiance, self-sacrifice and most importantly unity, which, it is widely held, are the catalysts for the Greek's success.&lt;br /&gt;Of course, disunity and strife underlying each event are glossed over and silenced. Little is made, for example, of the fact that the Macedonians were allies of the Persians during the Persian Wars, or that the Latins were actually invited to Constantinople by claimants to the Byzantine throne. Similarly, not much is made of the internecine strife between fighters, accompanying and greatly jeopardizing the Greek War of Independence, that cost the life of Odysseus Androutsos, among many and almost took that of the great Theodoros Kolokotronis. Viewed through this more realistic prism, what should be celebrated, is not our prowess per se, but the fact that the main protagonists managed to achieve a successful or at least heroic outcome, despite their shortcomings. In short, these achievements mark the triumph of transcendence of self.&lt;br /&gt;OXI is slightly different to most of the events that it is paralleled with, for the resistance against unprovoked aggression truly galvanised a nation and stood witness to countless acts of self-sacrifice, especially in Crete where it is widely held that the redoubtable Cretan resistance delayed Hitler's invasion of the Soviet Union by one critical month. The emerging "EPOS of 1940" as it is termed in Greek, was thus not a myth but a fact. What is also a fact is that the unity of Greece, (even the Greek Communist Party dropped its early stance against joining the Allies in an 'imperialist' war, only to advocate the dismembering of Greece and the creation of an independent communist 'Macedonian' State, only to condemn that later), was subsequently compromised, as leftist and rightist guerilla groups receded to the mountains in order to wait until the occupiers had left, whereupon they descended from the hideouts and began to kill each other, and much of the population, during the course of a brutal civil war, whose after-effects are still felt in the poisoned political culture of Greece today.&lt;br /&gt;If ground-breaking historian Marina Hill is to believed, the Communist Party in Greece was probably correct in its original assessment. For there is enough evidence to make plausible the hypothesis that Britain deliberately stationed its troops in Greece, a country of no strategic value to the Axis powers, in order to goad them into invading. The reason why? The illusory as it turned out hope, that Turkey, seeing an expansionist power invading its neighbour, would be sufficiently unnerved as to enter the war on the side of the Allies. In other words, over four hundred thousand Greeks were consigned to death, starvation, torture and devastation, as pawns of a wider chess game. Viewed in this light, the sacrifice of the Greek people is even more poignant and their betrayal, absolutely sickening.&lt;br /&gt;The Athenian Greeks of 2011 will have commemorated OXI Day, in a city that has been wracked by street-fighting, vandalism and violence reminiscent of the Dekemvriana, the early stages of the Greek Civil War. To them, the ideals of self-sacrifice, of unity and of stoicism in favour of a greater cause, that of the 'nation,' will certainly ring hollow. As was the case during the Dekemvriana, many will feel that the current political regime has been denuded of any legitimacy it purports to have and certainly, the pertinent question will be asked, as to whether there is anything to be gained from adhering, or paying lip-service to such ideals, when the country's leaders do not, and have, in fact, brought the country to the brink of disaster.&lt;br /&gt;Indeed, if internet postings and discussions are anything to go by, the population of Greece lays the blame for Greece's calamities squarely on the shoulders of its leaders. One posting, is particularly telling: "The people are not to blame. Our leaders are traitors." Such a viewpoint is inextricably linked to a popularly held wish: that somehow a charismatic leader will emerge, who will unite the squabbling Greeks and re-set Greece upon the path of greatness. That pious hope, is a most damaging one. Certainly we have seen Greek political culture historically coalesce around such messianic leaders as Venizelos, Metaxas, Karamanlis and Andreas Papandreou, all of whom have in some way fallen short of the mark and who are or have been the objects of as much derision as admiration. Following false messiahs is not the way to the Promised Land.&lt;br /&gt;Ultimately, what the Greek people must learn is that in a western parliamentary 'democracy,' they have as much stake in the running of the country as those who they elect. Given this, they cannot divest themselves of the responsibility of ensuring the integrity of the system, even when that does not suit their personal interests. Instead of immaturely foisting all responsibilities upon politicians, who can be used as vehicles for rorting the system or circumventing regulations, and then as scapegoats when things go sour, it is time that the Greek people adopted a more critical approach to their political culture, demanding openness, fairness and impartiality. In order to achieve that, they will have to wean themselves off the teat of junkets, bribes and corruption, and demand accountability, no matter how long, inconvenient or prejudicial to their interests this may be in the short term.&lt;br /&gt;The OXI of 2011, is not an OXI δεν πληρώνουμε, but rather the necessary self-sacrifice required of ordinary, frustrated and aggrieved citizens, in order to place their country on the footing it should have been on, to begin with. It is not fair that they should be called upon to make such a sacrifice and both those are responsible for the misgovernment of Greece, as well as those who are now destroying public property in the name of democracy must not be tolerated but brought to account. Greek citizens must know that they now hold the Greek State in their hands, if only they can be inspired by the heroism of their predecessors and learn cautionary tales from their shortcomings.&lt;br /&gt;What emerged from the after-math of the OXI of 1940 was a self-hating, hideously traumatized and polarized Greek nation whose fault lines still exist today, in large measure due to the exploitation of political prejudices by politicians of all sides of the spectrum. It is to the Greek people to decide whether they shall take up the struggle against sloth, irresponsibility, political immaturity and self-interest in their own popular OXI, and carve a revolutionary path towards modern responsible statehood, or whether they will continue to throw tantrums and destroy their capital, preserving in their fit of pique, the divisions and discord that have brought their nation to financial and moral bankruptcy. If their petulant and immature booing of the Geek head of State Karolos Papoulias at the 28th October military parade is anything to go by, they still have a long way to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 5 November 2011&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-7955422690567827043?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/7955422690567827043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=7955422690567827043' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7955422690567827043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7955422690567827043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/11/oxi-2011.html' title='OXI 2011'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ss89t0lOWc8/TrnbAxQUkZI/AAAAAAAABCQ/nmM8K9HEhjE/s72-c/oxi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-7914459066105872367</id><published>2011-10-29T09:10:00.001+10:30</published><updated>2011-10-31T09:13:23.223+10:30</updated><title type='text'>ΕΛΛΗΝΟΠΑΘΕΙΑ</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iTIpz2mnqoo/Tq3S6bOz8gI/AAAAAAAABCE/i33JJjBq6mE/s1600/kryfo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669419407113449986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 313px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iTIpz2mnqoo/Tq3S6bOz8gI/AAAAAAAABCE/i33JJjBq6mE/s400/kryfo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The Greek version of the latest edition of my place of origin's brotherhood's newsletter is largely unintelligible, comprised of dubious spellings and imaginative grammatical constructions that connote fluency in Swahili and only a passing acquaintance with Modern Greek. Considering however, that the brotherhood in question is over the venerable age of seventy years, the fact that it persists in communicating to its ageing members in a form of Greek, however garbled, is praiseworthy, especially considering that many of its community counterparts these days increasingly choose to adopt English as the primary language of communication. This, despite our large numbers and numerous schools and other institutions, is not surprising. Modern Greek is language in decline, gradually disappearing from use in Australia.&lt;br /&gt;It was Cavafy who, in his evocative poem: "The Poseidonians," told the story of the inhabitants of a Greek colony in Southern Italy, who: &lt;em&gt;"forgot the Greek language after so many centuries of mingling with Tyrrhenians, Latins, and other foreigners. The only thing surviving from their ancestors was a Greek festival, with beautiful rites, with lyres and flutes, contests and wreaths. And it was their habit toward the festival's end to tell each other about their ancient customs and once again to speak Greek names that only few of them still recognized."&lt;/em&gt; This tokenistic treasuring of redundant tribal totems is most haunting and not without parallel closer to home.&lt;br /&gt;While Greek may be the primary language of discourse for first generation migrants aged sixty and over, the same cannot be said of members of our community who arrived here at a young age and grew up here, or the generations that were born here. Increasingly, English is the language employed in most facets of life, and primarily in the family home. When Greek is spoken, it is usually spoken only to the pappou and yiayia generation and even there, that said generation is more and more, employing broken English in order to communicate with their children and grandchildren. Consequently, upon the demise of that generation, it is evident that the opportunities for speaking Greek will be severely curtailed, for it is relatively unheard of for Greek to be spoken with convincing regularity among members of the latter acculturation generations, especially without this eliciting a raised eyebrow and a sarcastic comment. Where Greek is spoken among the latter generations, it is usually done so in a fetishistic fashion, with the coining and adoption of words that establish a common Poseidonian origin for those engage in the discourse, such as &lt;em&gt;"re, malaka, megale&lt;/em&gt; etc." Generally speaking however, it is a register that is avoided. One of the reasons for this, is an insecurity with regard to competence and an inherent fear of making mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;As an aside it is of interest to consider, tentatively, so as to avoid the risk of making gross generalisations, that such limited intra-generational Greek language use as is employed by the second generations often differs according to gender. Though it is postulated by anthropologists that women are more likely to retain and pass down a mother tongue and customs, it is interesting to note that slightly more second generation males than females use aspects of the Greek language in their daily discourse towards each other. There may be a multitude of complex reasons for this, including family relationships and gender relations within them, the gender-biased composition of our social organisations that facilitates communication in Greek with more ease for males than females and a host of other factors that truly require further examination.&lt;br /&gt;The phenomenon of limited intra-generational Greek discourse among the second generation and next to no discourse among the third generation, is a logical and not unnatural outcome of our sojourn in these Antipodean parts. The more one is acculturated to a society, the more one is exposed to its dominant language and the more that dominant language will permeate not only one's own personal spoken medium but also its underlying cultural constructs and suppositions, the more the original spoken medium will emerge hybridised. This is especially so in our community, where the vocabulary of our agrarian in origin first generation was generally limited at best and unable to reflect the challenges and concepts denoted by an urban environment, even in its own tongue. Despite growing up in a consciously monolingual family, right up until the age of thirteen when my grandmother visited us from Greece, I was convinced that the Greek word for market was marketa, for I had heard no other. The same applies for friza. My grandparents discovered the fridge in this country and, especially given the paucity of media for communication with the mortherland during the fifties and sixites, could not have known that this was deemed a psygeio, by their family back home. From there, it is but a short leap to jettisoning one's imperfect idiom, for one in which you can be fully understood and in which you can express yourself with greater ease, for it is frustrating and annoying to attempt to make one's deeper feelings understood through the use of a language that you lack the mastery of to employ to that purpose, especially considering the vast generation and communication gap that was opened between a first generation that threw itself wholly into the hard work of establishing roots in this country, leaving their offspring to bring up themselves and thus, not fully transferring to them, despite their best efforts in constructing schools for the purpose, a functioning and fluent mother tongue. Sum total: a significant component of the reason why the loss of fluency in the other tongue is marked down the generations, can be ascribed to those latter generations' exclusion or marginalisation from the social pursuits of the language-bearing generation, where the mother tongue could be learnt and practised, thus providing it both relevance and utility. The inherent contradiction here is starkly tragic. Ours is a gerontocratic community that values children more than anything else but seems unable to emancipate them. As a result, those offspring are often excused from the rules and scrictures of their forebears constructed community, and sadly, the language that is required to navigate one's way within it.&lt;br /&gt;That English is deemed to be the primary language of the latter generations and the corollary redundancy of Modern Greek can be evidenced by the following instructive anecdotes. First generation clients who walk into my office often feel compelled, by the perceived difference in our ages, to instruct me in broken, highly unintelligible English. They will not switch to Greek, even when entreated to do so, primarily in order to save time, and will persist in slaughtering the English language even when spoken to in Greek, as if there is an unwritten understanding that English is the only acceptable register when communicating with the younger generations. Other members of the first generation become decidedly uneasy when they discover that they are communicating with members of the latter generation possessed of a greater facility for Modern Greek than themselves, as if it is offensive to challenge the keepers of the mother tongue by matching one's abilities with their own. On one occasion, I was accosted by an irate monolingual client for providing her daughter with a legal phase in Greek to be conveyed to her mother in order to facilitate her understanding of a particular legal process. The hapless daughter was unable to replicate the phrase and my client chastised me both for confusing her offspring by speaking to her in Greek, and inconveniencing her, by asking her to speak the language. Truth be told, I was contrite to say the least.&lt;br /&gt;This is generation that will insist that its progeny marry its own kind, in order to preserve the mother language and traditions and will also be the first to conceal the fact that regardless of the much coveted and dearly won phyletic homogeneity of their family, neither language or traditions have been preserved with any real capacity for viability save a cursory «Χρόνια πολλά παππού,» if they are lucky. Nor is it the language spoken to third generation children by their parents. To be fair, this is also the generation that has largely assumed the responsibility and the logistics for conveying their grandchildren to Greek school, above and beyond the counter-productive cautionary tales and 'horror-stories' of their own offsprings' Greek school experiences that do much to render their children's attitude to Greek language learning a negative one, from the outset. There is not much point expecting one's child to adopt a positive attitude towards going to Greek school, if they are already burdened with their parent's prejudices against such institutions. The first generation also bears the brunt of assisting their grandchildren with their homework, as I found out during my stint as a Greek school teacher. In general, I found that second-generation parents, in the majority, did not supervise their children's homework or take it at all seriously. On the other hand, it was easy to detect from the children that would hand in their homework, lovingly executed in polytonic and with katharevousa suffixes, the hand of a first generation helper. Such contact and intervention is vital for language acquisition. In many cases, second generation parents find it inconvenient to send their children to Greek school and only do so in order to stem the flow of nagging from their parents. For it is trite to mention again that in the vast majority of second-generation Greek homes, Greek is no longer the language spoken and thus, Greek from being taught as a mother tongue, is now taught as a foreign language, with obvious implications for the standard of learning, especially in Australia, where fluent foreign language acquisition is not a priority.&lt;br /&gt;A few months ago, in an interview with a community radio program, I was asked my opinion on the state of "Ellinomatheia," that is, Greek language learning in our community, which is in steady decline. My response was that as a community, we have not developed a language policy commensurate with our aims as an ethnic group. Do we wish our children to be fluent in the Modern Greek language, on a level with their counterparts in Greece? Is this desirable or achievable? If not, do we wish to admit defeat and claim satisfaction with the parroting of a few token phrases, such linguistic incapacity to be justified as long as a child "feels Greek?" What is it that we want out of Greek language learning? How does the fact that English is the primary language not only of everyday conversation but also of instruction the Greek language impact upon our objectives? And, quite frankly, how do we separate lip service paid to the importance of the Greek language, from the generation of actual enthusiasm, drive and hard work to ensure that the language survives. What structures do we create in order to deal with changes in our community demographic and to assess how this impacts upon Greek language learning? These are obvious questions and yet we are as incapable as a community to arrive at a consensus as we are, to collaborate in order to realise our aspirations. Ultimately, it is my view that these are questions that the first generation must still decide, as sadly, the latter generations in many respects lack both the competence and the passion to do so.&lt;br /&gt;There is an element of self-loathing among the latter generations about the level of their skills in the Greek language, at least for the time being. Yet this is not without historical precedent, as Cafavy proves: &lt;em&gt;"And so their festival always had a melancholy ending because they remembered that they too were Greeks, they too once upon a time were citizens of Magna Graecia; and how low they'd fallen now, what they'd become, living and speaking like barbarians, cut off so disastrously from the Greek way of life."&lt;/em&gt; If such a state of affairs is to be arrested and tens of Greek school teachers rescued from unemployment, a concerted and long-lasting effort to make the Greek language relevant in our community through rigorous education, integration into our existing communal life and the facilitation of social opportunities where it may be spoken by all generations must be made. That is, if we still have the ticker, or the guts. Time will tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 22 and 29th October 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-7914459066105872367?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/7914459066105872367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=7914459066105872367' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7914459066105872367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7914459066105872367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/10/blog-post.html' title='ΕΛΛΗΝΟΠΑΘΕΙΑ'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iTIpz2mnqoo/Tq3S6bOz8gI/AAAAAAAABCE/i33JJjBq6mE/s72-c/kryfo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-6889513613286899613</id><published>2011-10-16T09:53:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2011-10-19T09:55:56.733+10:30</updated><title type='text'>LIARS THIEVES AND POOFS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qSHzCy2oX-s/Tp4K8i-DMOI/AAAAAAAABB4/73-XBiwvO-Q/s1600/OdysseusSuitors.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664977416574152930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 393px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qSHzCy2oX-s/Tp4K8i-DMOI/AAAAAAAABB4/73-XBiwvO-Q/s400/OdysseusSuitors.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"The Greeks - dirty and impoverished descendants of a bunch of la-de-da fruit salads who invented democracy and then forgot how to use it while walking around dressed up like girls." &lt;/em&gt;PJ O'Rourke.&lt;br /&gt;It is a singular fact that one of the most common generalisations made of the Greek people is that in matters of honesty and veracity, they are particularly lacking. For the observation that the truth does not lie within the Greek, we have the Trojans to thank, for it is they who first had the temerity to warn the world that they should be wary of Greeks bearing gifts, and this after they had spirited away Menelaus' not so unwilling wife. Furthermore, Odysseus, one of the main protagonists of Homer's saga is described as «πολυμήχανος,» which can variously be defined as ingenious, crafty, tricky or shifty, proving that there is a fine line between genius and amorality. Nonetheless, it cannot be denied that traditionally, «πολυμηχανία» is a quality that has generally been prized among the Greeks, who have generally had to rely on their wits rather than their brawn to survive. Even today, the cunning plan, the "kombina," involving a Byzantine level of intrigue and dissimulation is well appreciated when it bears results, and widely derided it if fails. There is even a noun to describe those who would indulge in such activities as eg. misrepresenting one's financial position in order to obtain a benefit. They are known as kombinadoroi.&lt;br /&gt;The self-imposed stereotype is not restricted to males. According to the misogynistic ancient Greeks or at least Hesiod, women are by their very nature deceitful, as Hermes endowed Pandora, the very first woman, with "a shameful mind and deceitful nature," as well as instilling in her "lies and crafty words." It deserves mention in passing, that the Homeric hymn invokes the said Hermes as being of "many shifts, «πολύτροπος,» blandly cunning, a robber, and a thief at the gates." It is also a little known fact that the Greeks counted Apate, is one of their lesser goddesses. The daughter of Nyx, she was the goddess of lies and deceit and was assisted in her tasks by the Pseudologoi, malevolent spirits of lies and falsehood, born to Eris, the goddess of strife.&lt;br /&gt;If the Greek gods are by their nature dishonest, then why would the Greeks not follow suit? Epimenides the Cretan is said to have cast aspersions upon his whole tribe, when in 600BC he reputedly said that: "All Cretans are liars." So shocking was this statement held to be, and given that he himself was of the race, his statement is an amusing paradox, that it turns up some six centuries later, in the most unlikely of places, the Bible, where in the Epistle to Titus, where the Apostle Paul writes of the Cretans that "they are always liars, as one of their own has said." Herodotus too is widely held to have been the "Father of Lies," though this is decidedly unfair. As if to drive the point home further, the hallowed freedom fighters who saw the Greek nation reborn were largely drawn from the ranks of the kleftes, who were, you guessed it, thieves and brigands.&lt;br /&gt;Given the above background, it would come as no surprise that our neighbours have come to embrace the stereotype we have created for ourselves with perhaps more fervour than allows for comfort. A well known Albanian proverb warns: "After shaking hands with a Greek, count your fingers." The Russians on the other hand, maintain that "Greeks tell the truth but once a year," with the exact date unspecified, while the Bulgarians, who are in closer proximity admiringly observe that: "One Greek can outwit ten Jews." The Romanians on the hand, are slightly more apprehensive, warning against "a Gypsy who has become a Turk and a peasant who has become a Greek." While the Dutch may state that: "A Greek will survive where an ass will starve", the Italians gravely opine that: "Whoever trusts a Greek lacks brains." The last work in the gross generalisation stakes goes to the Greeks themselves who analyse their place and esteem among their neighbours as follows: "A Russian may be cheated only by a Gypsy, a Gypsy by a Jew, a Jew by a Greek and a Greek by the Devil." Of course Greeks return the compliment, engaging in the coining of similar stereotypes for their nreighbours. This light haearted phenomenon is not so much evidence of hostility, than of a harsh and unstable environment, in which those who cannot think on their feet are soon left behind.&lt;br /&gt;Sydney Morning Herald columnist Paul Sheehan is in different company whoever, when he wrote in the infamous article that has the heads of the Greek community shaking in disbelief, that "the national sport of Greece is cheating. Cheating across every tier of society." This sentiment of course, is one that has been echoed by countless of Greeks since the foundation of the Greek state and anyone who has lived in Greece or had the misfortune to tangle with its bureaucracy would find themselves sympathising with it. However, when it comes from Paul Sheehan or other English-speaking journalists, it is offensive, not because it is a statement of fact but rather, because it appears, to a Greek-Australian audience to reinforce a prejudice against the Greek-speaking people as dishonest, effete and morally questionable that has been around since Roman times. In short, it reeks of Orientalism.&lt;br /&gt;Orientalism, a term coined by the thinker Edward Said, postulates that Western knowledge about the East is not generated from facts or reality, but from preconceived archetypes that envision all "Eastern" societies" as fundamentally similar to one another, and fundamentally dissimilar to "Western" societies. This discourse establishes "the East" as antithetical to the "West." The idea of an "Orient" is a crucial aspect of attempts to define "the West". Thus, histories of the Persian Wars would contrast the monarchical government of the Persians with the democratic tradition of Athens, as a way to make a more general comparison between the Greeks and the Persians and between "the West" and "the East" but make no mention of the other Greek city states, most of which were not ruled democratically. According to Said, this assumption of the right to define, is merely a western style for dominating, restructuring and having authority over the Orient.&lt;br /&gt;While classical Greek civilization, as defined and interpreted by Western scholars is generally held to be the basis of Western civilization, in the popular consciousness at least, modern Greeks are not and quite possibly never have been held to be part of that West. From the time of Cato the Elder, right through to the Great Schism between the Eastern and Western churches, the sack of Constantinople by the Crusaders and beyond, the same slurs, the same derogatory generalizations have been made of the Greeks, generalizations that have also been made of other ethnicities in the Middle East: we are effeminate, lazy and untrustworthy. William of Tyre for example, described the Byzantine Greeks as: "a brood of vipers, like a serpent in the bosom or mouse in the wardrobe evilly requite their guests." Furthermore, because the Greek religion is Eastern, right up until the end of the nineteenth century, Greeks have been termed infidels, placing them instead of the West, (where we like to think we are,) in the 'barbarous' East. As the Reverend George Croly preached during the Crimean War (a war that was provoked by Russia's insistence upon being considered the protector of the persecuted Christians of the Ottoman Empire and not allowing the Western powers to encroach upon or assume control of Greek Orthodox shrines in the Holy Land), to widespread acclaim: "The Greeks have so little maintained the Christian character that they have done more to injure Christianity that ever the Turks have been able to effect." Another lay preacher, attempting to whip up enthusiasm for the Crimean War among the British public went even further: "As to the Greek Christians, they were a besotted, dancing, fiddling, race." This then, is where we have stood in the West's eyes, for centuries.&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, the West, having arbitrarily defined for itself what it means to be a Greek, while Greece was under the Ottomans, soon came to realise, as they came in increasing numbers to visit classical sites in the eighteenth and nineteenth century, that the inhabitants of the region were of a diverse backgrounds and cultures and were not the narrowly and erroneously defined "Classical Greeks" of two thousand years previously. Nor did they have much in common with the Westerners, who were the sole inheritors of the Classical Greek tradition. For this reason, many came to despise the Modern Greeks, first as unworthy descendants of great ancestors and then, as interlopers who could not possibly be Greek, given their eastern propensities.&lt;br /&gt;At the foremost of those who would deny the Greeks their ancestry on the basis that they didn't fit with Western preconceptions of what Greeks should be was the German historian Jakob Fallmerayer, who considered, in a revealing passage that defined the stereotype, that: "The race of Modern Greeks has been wiped out in Europe. Physical beauty, intellectual brilliance, innate harmony and simplicity, art, competition, city, village, the splendour of column and temple - indeed, even the name has disappeared from the surface of the Greek continent.Not the slightest drop of undiluted Hellenic blood flows in the veins of the Christian population of present-day Greece." Going even further, he maintained that the Greek War of Independence was a: "purely Shqiptarian Albanian, not a Hellenic Revolution."&lt;br /&gt;Fallmerayer saw the fact that Modern Greeks had more in common with other regional populations as an indication of the "Slavic" nations to overwhelm the "Latin and the "German." He further argued that the Great Powers who had supported the Greek Revolution had been led by a classical intoxication to misjudge the character of the modern Greek state. His world vision fit in nicely and neatly with that delineated by Edward Said in his Orientalist paradigm, where Greeks were definitely on the side of darkness:&lt;br /&gt;"For nearly eighteen aeons, all history has been the result of the struggle between two basic elements, split apart by a divine power from the very beginning: a flexible life-process on the one side and a formless, undeveloped stasis on the other. The symbol of the former is eternal Rome, with the entire Occident lying behind her; the symbol of the latter is Constantinople, with the ossified Orient. That [Constantinople] might be one of the two world-factors, or if one prefers, the shadow of the shining image of European humanity, and therefore that the constitution of the earth might not admit philosophical reconstruction without its assent, is the great scholarly heresy of our time."&lt;br /&gt;By the time of the Crimean War, the British tabloids and the French Catholic Ultramontane press were able to whip up popular enthusiasm for the War by treating it as a Crusade against the Greeks and their religious practices, which were degenerate and even more 'uncivilized' that Islam (another instance of double headed orientalism). Fast forward now to 1920 and we have British military attache to the Greek occupation headquarters in Smyrna describing Greek High Commissioner Aristidis Stergiadis as being: "perhaps as honest as a person of his race could possibly be." The anti-Greek prejudice then forms a familiar course: impugn their race, their character and characteristics, thus dehumanising them and rendering them legitimate targets for abuse. How else can one explain this extraordinary comment by John Carne: "Few things can be less tempting or less dangerous than a Greek woman of the age of thirty," or the remarkable assertion by an Australian judge a few years ago that Greeks particularly enjoy anal sex?&lt;br /&gt;It is not difficult then to take the conceptual leap and agree that: (a) While we may think that Greek civilization forms the basis of the West, Westerners define that civilization as something mutually exclusive to that of Modern Greeks; (b) As a result, Westerners do not consider Greeks as legitimately belonging to the West; (c) Westerners typically do not hold Greeks in as high esteem as Westerners as they are really Easterners; (d) As Greeks are not counted among their number, it becomes easier for Westerners to denigrate them.&lt;br /&gt;Such an analysis may appear to be far-fetched or extreme, yet in the common English-language discourse, Greeks are generally considered slightingly and the prevalence of media material considered to be "anti-Greek," in English language publications around the world and locally merely reinforces the existence of such a prejudice. It could therefore be said that in writing his strongly worded article, accusing Greeks of being thieves, Sydney Morning Herald columnist Paul Sheehan is merely unwittingly reflecting an orientalist prejudice against Greeks that has been developed by the West over two thousand years, which makes it easier for him to make such hurtful comments and where, if he were in the same situation writing about another ethnic group held in greater esteem, he would have been given pause for thought.&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the day, the reason for the shock and horror in the Greek-Australian community at such an aggressively worded article as that of Sheehans is that as an ethnic community permitted to operate within the bounds of the broader Australian community, our compatriots goodwill and esteem is important. Not only does it make us feel good and accepted by the establishment, it also is vital for interethnic harmony, that name calling and generalising about races does not occur. As the recent VCAT debacle with regard to racial slurs against Greeks by a local FYROMIAN rag prove, not much protection is currently conferred to ethnic minorities that are subject to such abuse, which then have the possibility of taking on other, more sinister proportions.&lt;br /&gt;That being said, it is sincerely doubted that the Greeks of Greece, who have to deal with dire economic circumstances, regional instability and have been called every form of abuse invented by man for the past two millenia, would really have a care for what an obscure journalist at the other end of the world thinks of them or their management of their country. They are just as thieving cheating, lying and effeminate (interestingly, Amy Wihtehouse's first kiss was with a Greek boy who is now gay,) as anyone else in the world and long may they continue to be so for they are benign and harmless and understand fully that: «Ο ψεύτης κι ο κλέφτης τον πρώτο χρόνο χαίρονται.» We leave you, gentle reader, having surreptitiously emptied your pockets and stolen your superannuation, with this from Robert Kennedy: "Let us dedicate ourselves to what the Greeks wrote so many years ago: to tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday, 9th and 16th October 2011.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-6889513613286899613?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/6889513613286899613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=6889513613286899613' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/6889513613286899613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/6889513613286899613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/10/liars-thieves-and-poofs.html' title='LIARS THIEVES AND POOFS'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qSHzCy2oX-s/Tp4K8i-DMOI/AAAAAAAABB4/73-XBiwvO-Q/s72-c/OdysseusSuitors.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-5622906692101977511</id><published>2011-10-02T11:19:00.001+10:30</published><updated>2011-10-05T11:22:20.461+10:30</updated><title type='text'>GENERATIONCIDE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pzJls3nHH7w/TouqI33BC1I/AAAAAAAABBw/I3BKyHGO6bY/s1600/generation-gap.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659804426131540818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 215px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 330px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pzJls3nHH7w/TouqI33BC1I/AAAAAAAABBw/I3BKyHGO6bY/s400/generation-gap.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Don’t ever discount the second and third generations,”&lt;/em&gt; was the parting shot of the second generation president of the Cyprus Community of Melbourne and Victoria Harry Tsindos, as he mulled over the spectacular rejection of his plan to revitalize his organization through the rationalization of assets. Preceding the General meeting convened to discuss and approve his proposal, the local media published material emphasizing the ‘youth’ of the Cyprus Community’s board, pleading for understanding and a consideration of a vision for the future. The inference was clear: this proposal does not only make sense, but it also is proposed by a member of the community who belongs to the second generation. Since the second generation is the future, it should be evaluated carefully.&lt;br /&gt;Conversely, by all accounts, the General Meeting, rather than being a quiet and somber affair where the proposal and its implications were studied at length and suggestions or amendments made, was rather a cacophony of strife, bile and discord, punctuated by incidences of violence that are deeply disquieting for the health of our community, which after all, is supposed to be an all inclusive environment where people of a common background may associate freely.&lt;br /&gt;It would be difficult to ascribe such surprisingly vehement ventings of spleen to the strength of feeling of members as to whether their financially ailing Community should divest itself of or reinvest its assets. Rather, one can trace, within the literature published in the local media over the course of Harry Tsindos’ assumption of the presidency of the Cyprus community, a smouldering resentment that quite possibly has its genesis in the generation gap.&lt;br /&gt;Our Community organizations were constructed by the first generation so as to provide a social outlet in a foreign country, with persons sharing the same place of origin. It was expected that at some dimly conceived stage in the future, successive generations of migrant progeny would fill the ranks of those organizations and follow in the footsteps of their forebears, participating in the same events, sharing the same forms of entertainment forever. What was not envisaged was the rapidity of the social assimilation of the second generation within the mainstream and its mass desertion and rejection of our existing community organizations. As a result, persons of the second generation who take an active role in Greek community organizations are an exception rather than a rule and it is for this reason that we periodically come across advertisements in Greek publications stating: &lt;em&gt;“It would be a great pleasure for us to welcome members of the second generation, who are the future of our community.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;The sight of members of the second generation participating in community organization events is a source of great solace for the first generation. It pours balm upon their fears that their works and labours do not have a use by date and that such activities will be replicated far into the distant future. Ensconce those same second generation members in positions of authority, nay, elevate them to the committee board or the presidency, and the well worn for constant repeating mantra: “The second generation must take on the reins of our organization,” becomes increasingly threadbare. This is because Greek community politics can be characterized as a bloodsport, where committee members and local powerbrokers scheme, plot, conspire and intrigue in order to elevate each other and then undermine each other. In this game of thrones, as history has proven, nothing is sacred, not one’s reputation, sense of decorum, one’s family or even, in some extreme cases, one’s personal safety. The architects of our community ‘politicised’ culture were seasoned in the fractious and paranoid days of the Greek Civil War and its aftermath. Their legacy to the political culture of our organisations over the decades, has been strife, division and discord, to the extent where it often seems incredible that the remarkable edifices that dot our local landscape where ever purchased or erected at all.&lt;br /&gt;Idealistic second generation Greek Australians who have been suborned, coerced or seduced into entering the fray of community politics in order to “make a difference,” tend to ignore the abovementioned prehistory at their peril. More dangerously, they seem to believe that because they belong to another generation, they will be respected, assisted and spared the brutal onslaught of politicking that comes part and parcel of their role. Certainly they will be assisted, at least by those who convinced them to enter the heady stream of bile, for they will use them to serve their own deeper and obscure purposes. Sadly, they will not be respected. The second generation of Greek-Australians has not been able to emancipate itself from the first to the extent where they can engage in social endeavours on the community playing field in their own right. As such, in what limited play exists, they are considered mere pawns of other, first generation guiding hands, and discounted. In one case, rival regional groups will refuse to deal with the second-generation secretary unless the first generation president is present, citing as an excuse that they have no way of verifying whether what the secretary says has the approval of the board. Further, because as the Greek saying goes: “Who ever enters the circle of the dance, must dance,” they will not be spared abuse, as the hapless youthful members of the Pontiaki Estia committee have found out over years of being screamed at by ageing members of their organization, being accused of being front-men for a particular clique and in particular, at the horrible Annual General Meeting a few years ago, where an elderly gentleman publicly threatened to remove a young committee member from her seat and forcibly have sex with her in front of a howling, seething group of aggrieved members. This then, is what awaits idealistic second generation Greek-Australians who dare to presume they may ascend to the same level as that of their parents’ generation in Greek community affairs.&lt;br /&gt;In the case of Pontiaki Estia, just as in the case of the Cyprus community, the bone of contention was property. Any suggestion by the second generation that community property bought and paid off by the endeavours of the first generation is bound to provoke hostility and bitterness and this is because:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;a) the second generation did not struggle or make sacrifices in order to acquire the said premises so how dare they tell us what to do with it? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;b) the second generation does not actively take part in our organisation so why should they tell us where and when we should meet? And;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;c) obviously someone else is behind this suggestion and is putting the second generation up to it. Most likely they will profit from this arrangement and embezzle community funds so why should we agree to such a state of affairs? It goes without saying that a generation intent upon defending their hard won privileges from outside incursions is no longer best placed to plan strategically for the relevance of their organization to the latter generations.&lt;br /&gt;As a result of the ensuing paranoia, distrust and hostility against the second generation would-be Titans, who bearing sickles are intent upon emasculating their own Uranuses in order to seize heavens, these same second-generation committee members also run the risk of becoming hostile and inimical to the vast majority of members that they purport to serve. So intent are they upon preserving their own position and protecting themselves from attack, that they invariably grow bitter and alienate themselves from the needs and requirements of a generation that they increasingly identify as being an enemy. Instead, they re-forge themselves as trailblazers, willing to go to extraordinary and often rude and insensitive efforts to disestablish the first generation and run roughshod over their concerns, in the name of furthering the interests of the marginally existent second generation, within their organization.&lt;br /&gt;It is only in minutely few instances, where savvy individuals who are able, through their language skills and involvement within organizations, to shift seamlessly between the two generations and are pugilistic enough to enter the bloody fray and hold their own that a happy medium between the two generations can be reached where a composite committee can seek to pursue the interests of both generations. For everyone else, as Harry Tsindos’ experience has shown, a bitter aftertaste is left in the mouth, which serves as a cautionary tale both to the second generation as to their chances of an effective and enjoyable involvement within the organized Greek community, and to the first generation as to the viability of encouraging or permitting (and how much this word speaks volumes as to the inclusiveness of our community organizations) the involvement of those few of the second generation left with a communal conscience.&lt;br /&gt;Had our community organizations truly been havens of cohesive social networking, with an emphasis on mutual assistance and fostering close ties between their members, instead of mini-parliaments where otherwise normal citizens could indulge their penchant for megalomania, this sorry state of affairs most probably not exist and our community would be more structured and closely-knit than it actually is. The crossroads then are these: either we allow each generation to look after its own needs separately (and the absence of second generation organizations proves that this generation has no desire to organize itself with its place of origin as a common denominator), or we go back to the grass roots and seek out structures that have the family, children and individual relationships as their basis. That requires time, kindness and humility but surely if there is a future, it lies in this, and not the bile and useless bickering over money and power, that has blighted our development in the past. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday, 2 October 2011&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-5622906692101977511?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/5622906692101977511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=5622906692101977511' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/5622906692101977511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/5622906692101977511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/10/generationcide.html' title='GENERATIONCIDE'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pzJls3nHH7w/TouqI33BC1I/AAAAAAAABBw/I3BKyHGO6bY/s72-c/generation-gap.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-892400871248446251</id><published>2011-09-25T09:29:00.001+09:30</published><updated>2011-09-28T09:33:08.718+09:30</updated><title type='text'>FOUSTANELLA: THE RETURN</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AulOftrlCqU/ToJkKhR-YLI/AAAAAAAABBo/malgkbdD8dU/s1600/ow.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657194213825994930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 176px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AulOftrlCqU/ToJkKhR-YLI/AAAAAAAABBo/malgkbdD8dU/s400/ow.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Lord Byron, who is famous for transgressing the bounds of ‘normal’ sexual and gender behavior both by sleeping with his half-sister and cross-dressing by western standards through wearing the foustanella, is the person responsible for bringing my foustanella-centered ontopathological crisis about my suitability to wear the said garment and my vague belief that I could resolve it, if only I could manage to wear the most authentic foustanella of them all, to a head. For viewing Lord Byron’s famous portrait at Mesolongi in an English tome, I was astounded to notice that the caption below it read: “Byron in Albanian dress.” In what way could Byron, the greatest Philhellene after John Rerakis, be used as a poster boy for those claiming another origin for this purely Greek costume? Later, on a trip to Albania, I was astonished at the sight of a foustanella clad folkloric dance troupe perform traditional southern Albanian daces. Furthermore, they too called the garment “foustanella” in their own language. It was long after this seminal moment in my life, that I discovered that the foustanella was also worn in the regions of Azat, Babune and Tikvesh by inhabitants of what is now FYROM and, even further north, in some regions of Wallachia, in present day southern Romania.&lt;br /&gt;My crisis deepened. Given that my physical stature and interests disqualified me from being a pistol toting, chasm be-striding palikari, the only applicable prerequisite for being permitted to wear the article of clothing that would automatically confer Hellenic machismo upon me, was to be able to don the most authentic Greek version possible. Now, it became apparent that other claimants for authenticity had emerged and that their arguments were, at least at first glance, plausible. After all, how does one establish pure Greek credentials for an item of clothing whose very name is not Greek? The etymology of the word foustanella is definitely foreign, deriving from the medieval latin fustaneum, diminutive form of fustis, or wooden baton, referring to the spindle on which cloth was woven. Others would have the word derive from the suburb Fustat in Cairo, a traditional centre of cotton production.&lt;br /&gt;To compound my quandary further, proponents of the Hellenicity of the foustanella claim that it has been around in some form since classical times, being derived from the chiton or chitonium and a pleated kilt can be discerned on a third century statue found on the Acropolis. However, scholars also contend that the garment is derived from the Roman toga or the tunic worn by legionaries. In contrast, folklorist Ioanna Papantoniou considered it to be derived from the Celts and adapted by the Romans, whereas Franz Von Felso-Silvas, argues that the Romans took the foustanella from the Albanians and introduced it to the Celts in Britain. On the other hand, the famous archaeologist of Minoan Crete, Sir Arthur Evans, posited that the foustanella preserves an Illyrian element in the Balkans. Albanian nationalists who devote pages to discussing the origin of the foustanella in forums on the internet claim that Pyrrhus, king of Epirus (who they consider to be Albanian, along with his cousin, Alexander the Great) also wore the foustanella. Confused yet?&lt;br /&gt;Nonetheless, by the time we get to Byzantium, the foustanella is well and truly on the scene, in the form the pleated podea worn by Akritic warriors and attested to in pottery depictions from the reign of Manuel Komnenos. After this time, however, we lose the thread of the garment, until once more, we come up against another crisis of identity, for a document dated 1335 lists the “fustanum” as an article confiscated by the Venetians from a sailor in northern Albania. However, from that time onwards, the foustanella becomes a primary article of clothing in Greek-influenced southern Albania, not the north. King Zog, a northern tribesman who characteristically proclaimed himself King of Albania looks manifestly uncomfortable in a foustanella in his surviving photographs. The discovery of his photograph served to inspire me on another undertaking: a collection of photographs of famous people and non-Balkanians wearing the said item. Sadly, recent Friday night excursions into St Kilda with camera and spare foustanella packed securely in a backpack, have proved relatively fruitless.&lt;br /&gt;The Albanian version of the foustanella is long, covering the knee and only has sixty or so pleats. It was the custom in older times to dip it in melted sheep-fat, in order to make it both waterproof and less visible. Scholars claim that it is this version of the foustanella that Albanian Tosk tribesmen introduced into Greece during the Ottoman period. At first glance, the theory appears to be plausible. The foustanella is worn in areas that also have a similar music tradition, dominated by the Tsamiko, and were historically, Albanian speakers were to be found, such as the Peloponnese, Central Greece, and some parts of Epirus and Macedonia. However contrary evidence exists to suggest that the foustanella has been worn in Epirus continuously since the Byzantine era, before the migration of Albanian tribes to the region. What cannot be denied however, is that in the writings of nineteenth century western travelers to Greece, the foustanella is considered an Albanian influence, attesting to the presence of Albanian speakers within the country.&lt;br /&gt;The Greek foustanella however, differs in some, though not many respects from its Albanian counterpart, notably in the higher number of pleats, which was a symbol of wealth, given that these were difficult to produce. Captains and warlords competed to outdo each other as to the sumptuousness of their costumes, introducing gold braid and embroidery to their yileki, mendani, or other type of waistcoat. Another item of clothing, a long coat that partially covers and shields the foustanella is known as the “Arvanitkos doulamas.” No prizes for guessing its origin. Further, photos of the evzones and of the 1920’s Royal Albanian Guard are almost indistinguishable, save that the evzones skirts are indubitably shorter.&lt;br /&gt;Given the above, it seemed that authenticity as a reason for wearing the foustanella eluded me. I dreamed of being able to live in a place where I could indulge my passion for wearing the foustanella openly among my peers who could appreciate my sense of style and not only on Greek national Day or the Antipodes Festival, where my forays down Lonsdale Street in full regalia seem only to evince horror in hapless tourists and subdued golf-claps from closet foustanelloforoi, who lack the necessary baubles in order to come out and wear their own with pride.&lt;br /&gt;Thus when I discovered that in the Vlach village of Metsovo in Epirus, the inhabitants, wearing a stylish variant of the garb that includes a sumptuous black silk shirt are permitted to roam freely, their pleats swaying in the breeze, I was compelled to tarry to them and beg admittance as one of their number. The results were disappointing. My newly tailored one piece grey foustanella with black embroiderings was quickly identified as being from the region of Tsamanta, close to the Albanian border, I was exposed as an imposter and banished.&lt;br /&gt;I find myself thus in the sad predicament of one who is neither masculine enough nor ensconced in a natural habitat where the wearing of the foustanella is permissible. Furthermore, proof of authenticity of original derivation has proved elusive. Of course this parlous state of affairs could easily be remedied by a united effort by the Greek community to being back the foustanella as daily wear for all Greek Australian males, Alex Perry included. Truly, this noble endeavour would be a sure safeguard against assimilation and surely raise fertility levels within our community as the males of our gender are finally given respite to breathe. One lives in hope.&lt;br /&gt;If there is any balm in Gilead, it is in the fact that not only is a statue of Greek Marathon Gold-Medallist Spiros Louis to be erected in Berwick, in full foustanella, but I have also been able to locate a picture of sybarite Oscar Wilde caparisoned in a foustanella, which he refers to as ‘Greek dress.’ Oscar was neither masculine nor authentic. This effete fop, possessed of a penchant for debauchery, was however an absolute genius, whose prose is both intricately woven and tear-jerkingly humane. It is in his honour, then, he who opined: &lt;em&gt;“Be yourself, everyone else is taken,”&lt;/em&gt; and more presciently: &lt;em&gt;“You can never be overdressed or overeducated,”&lt;/em&gt; (after all quotation is a serviceable substitute for wit) that I will now wear my foustanella at every given opportunity. The only way to rid temptation, is to yield to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 25 September 2011 &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-892400871248446251?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/892400871248446251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=892400871248446251' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/892400871248446251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/892400871248446251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/09/foustanella-return.html' title='FOUSTANELLA: THE RETURN'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AulOftrlCqU/ToJkKhR-YLI/AAAAAAAABBo/malgkbdD8dU/s72-c/ow.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-7823609645936993365</id><published>2011-09-17T11:11:00.000+09:30</published><updated>2011-09-28T09:33:40.355+09:30</updated><title type='text'>STICKS AND STONES</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2dM6R4dbbl4/Tnaf3S2JetI/AAAAAAAABBg/gaCl1frM-mU/s1600/slav-macedonian-australian-newspaper-prints-falsifications-19459546.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653882154510809810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 210px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2dM6R4dbbl4/Tnaf3S2JetI/AAAAAAAABBg/gaCl1frM-mU/s400/slav-macedonian-australian-newspaper-prints-falsifications-19459546.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Question: &lt;em&gt;"If someone said of Slavic Macedonians that they were evil abstractions or freaks of nature, you would agree with me that is something that would hold Slavic Macedonians up to ridicule or contempt?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Answer: "&lt;em&gt;Yes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Question: &lt;em&gt;"Do you agree with me that if an article is written in Hobart which said something of American Indians that they were freaks of nature or evil alien abstractions would not those America Indians be entitled to say that they had been ridiculed?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Answer: &lt;em&gt;"Yes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;The above is a partial transcript of the cross-examination of Ljubcho Stankovski, editor of the "Australian Macedonian (sic) Weekly," who permitted the publication of an article in his rag entitled amusingly &lt;em&gt;'Who in this Celestial World gave the Greeks the right to take away the Macedonian language?'&lt;/em&gt; It is trite to point out that a 'celestial world' refers to the heavens, whereby the editor must have truly had his head in the clouds when he permitted such racist, intolerant and thoroughly disgusting references towards Greeks as being: a &lt;em&gt;"thieving nation," "deranged bastardly monsters", "freaks of nature,"&lt;/em&gt; referring to the Greek language, which in passing exists in countless inscriptions in FYROM churches as &lt;em&gt;"their ugly language,"&lt;/em&gt; as well as asking the Greeks rhetorically:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"What evil alien abstractions possessed your dark soul?", "what "barbaric wickedness obliterated your senses?"&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;"What evil spirits possessed your moronic conscience to be so cruel and predisposed to such ghastly monstrosity?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;It was while attempting to arrest the natural urge to regurgitate caused by the purulence of such parlous grammar, that the aggrieved members of the Australian Macedonian Advisory Council, having first attempted to point out to Stankovski and his rag that such articles are racist and inspire ethnic hatred and exhausted all efforts to conciliate the dispute in the face of Stankovski's rag's intransigence and refusal to accept responsibility for such a provocative, childish and thoroughly offensive act, that they sought recourse in Victorian. Civil and Administrative Appeals Tribunal, claiming that in publishing such twaddle, the rag contravened Section 7 of the Racial and Religious Tolerance Act.&lt;br /&gt;In the seminal work to Citizen: Greek Migrants and Social Change in White Australia 1897-2000," George Vassilacopoulos and Tina Nicolacopoulou analyse how the key forms in which migrant communities manifest our existence here are paradoxical. Though lip service is paid to communities forming their own organizations and sub-structures, the way in which this is done is heavily regulated and prescribed by the state, originally in order to keep sub-cultures away from the mainstream. As a result of such government-sanctioned behaviour, the sub-cultures remain isolated, suspect and constantly having to prove their loyalty credentials to their host country, that is perpetually unable to accept them as they are. Vassilacopoulos and Nicolacopoulou also note that such racially exclusion is symptomatic of the ontopathology of the predominant ruling group in this country, in seeking to legitimise its conquest and rule over Australia at the expense of its original inhabitants, by acting as arbiter over other nationalities it has chosen to include but not assimilate within its constructed society.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While many may balk at such analysis, it is certainly borne out by the adjudication of this dispute. In finding that Stankovski's rag did not breach the Racial and Religious Tolerance Act, Senior Member of VCAT Noreen Megay made some concerning observations that do much to indicate how the legal institutions established by the predominant ruling group view ethnic minorities. Ms Megay pointed out that the article was printed in English in a publication that is primarily printed in Cyrillic. Thus, the 'English-language' would find it hard to find "amid the myriad pages of Macedonian (sic) text." So obviously, ethnic publications, do not share the same status as English ones, for the purposes of the public discourse.&lt;br /&gt;Ms Megay further observed that "For the average Macedonian (sic) reader, this article is probably just "preaching to the converted" and is not likely to stir up such raw emotion as to breach the Act." This observation is shocking, as it asserts the horrifying stereotype that all Australians who have cultural affiliations with FYROM consider Greeks to be thieves, monsters and freaks. That a member of a judicial body can make such broad sweeping characterizations of this nature about an ethnic community is deeply disquieting and ostensibly, a slur on all Australian-FYROMIANs.&lt;br /&gt;Even more frightening is the fact that Ms Megay appears to hold the view that because the perpetrator and the victim of the slur in question are two ethnic communities, which, by their very nature are on the margins of broader society, that the act of intolerance is of marginal interest to the mainstream: &lt;em&gt;"I suspect that the average non-Macedonian reader who might stumble across the article..would just wonder what it was all about without being incited to any extreme emotion about Greeks."&lt;/em&gt; She goes on to observe: &lt;em&gt;"It is true that in modern multicultural Australia people might wonder why it was necessary consistently to re-open old ethnic wounds and to do so in such forceful terms... In my view the words of the article do not have any tendency to incite hatred against Greeks or to incite serious contempt for, or revulsion or severe ridicule of Greeks on the ground of their race."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;The fact that the blatant dehumanization of a people in print, regardless of the language in which it is done can be deemed not to contravene Section 7 of the Racial and Religious Tolerance Act, sets a dangerous precedent. Ms Megay considered that: &lt;em&gt;"My instinct is that the section requires a consideration of whether the subject matter is in the interest of the public as a whole, as distinct from one that excites the interest of two ethnic groups of the public."&lt;/em&gt; Accordingly, are we to assume that as various members of our judiciary consider the history of conflict between ethnic groups to be of marginal interest to the broader (here read Anglo-Saxon) community and that ethnic publications, especially foreign language ones are obscure and also of limited importance to the mainstream, that ethnic communities in Victoria are now granted license by this novel interpretation of the Racial and Religious Tolerance Act, to denigrate and dehumanize each other without impunity? A brave new world indeed.&lt;br /&gt;The Victorian Greek media and the community in general have maintained an inordinately high level of professionalism and courtesy when dealing with other ethnic communities over matters that concern our countries of origin. The fact that our community as a whole refuses to condone acts of racism and intolerance is testament to its community to multiculturalism and social integration. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about our FYROMIAN counterparts. Readers will recall the Victorian Multicultural Commission sponsoring the publication of "The Macedonians in Victoria," written by an amateur historian and a schoolboy, that contained a plethora of slurs against the Greek community. Even though these were pointed out to the VMC, no action was taken. Similarly, at their 2008 hate rally, members of the FYROMIAN community paraded through the streets of Melbourne where, in a deliberate attempt to provoke the religious feelings of Greek-Australians, they defaced the Greek flag by replacing the cross with a red swastika and also carried banners with slogans that vilified the Greek people, such as: "Fascist Greeks." This time, they found their apologist in Mr George Seitz MP, who quixotically attempted to apologize on their behalf and justify their behaviour. Again, no mechanism of state was activated in order to stop the public display of racist behaviour. Now members of that community are able to continue with their racist barrage of insults and victimize others, without hindrance.&lt;br /&gt;The latest VCAT decision gives rise to the apprehension that while the State is happy to placate ethnic communities with a view to ensuring their subservience to the dominant culture and secure their votes, it is unwilling or unable to protect them in instances of racial victimization and abuse. Ms Megay may consider the fact that Australian-FYROMIANS are being incited to consider their fellow Australians of Greek background as deranged bastardly monsters as irrelevant to mainstream society. However, in doing so, the flood-gates are left open for further and even more heinous displays of racial intolerance, and thus playing into the hands of the detractors of multiculturalism.&lt;br /&gt;It is ironic that we are reminded of the illusory nature of our so-called 'multi-cultural society,' at a time when the inclusion of a slogan of that nature is being contemplated for Victorian number plates. Our Multicultural minister is implored, prior to promoting such an endeavour, to revisit and review the legislation that in its current form, seems to undermine the very end that we hold dear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Sticks and stones may break our bones but words will never hurt us,"&lt;/em&gt; goes the old adage. Our community will go on as before, ensuring that it makes positive contributions to Victoria while ensuring the survival of Greek culture and language in this country, regardless of the immature and hate-driven displays of bile by the disaffected few and with great concern for smaller and more vulnerable ethnic communities who may be subject to similar treatment. Come election time however, if nothing is done to improve the existing legislative framework, we would do well to make our views known.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 17 September 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-7823609645936993365?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/7823609645936993365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=7823609645936993365' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7823609645936993365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7823609645936993365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/09/sticks-and-stones.html' title='STICKS AND STONES'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2dM6R4dbbl4/Tnaf3S2JetI/AAAAAAAABBg/gaCl1frM-mU/s72-c/slav-macedonian-australian-newspaper-prints-falsifications-19459546.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-7675839633182115800</id><published>2011-09-10T09:50:00.000+09:30</published><updated>2011-09-12T09:55:51.817+09:30</updated><title type='text'>FOUSTANELLA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pthi3dkKHhA/Tm1RdIQh5DI/AAAAAAAABBY/KEmEl8zeecI/s1600/450px-Greek_guard_uniforms_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651262668294710322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pthi3dkKHhA/Tm1RdIQh5DI/AAAAAAAABBY/KEmEl8zeecI/s400/450px-Greek_guard_uniforms_1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My minute insufficiency has been possessed of precise knowledge as to the secret of the Greek revolutionaries’ success in the 1821 War of Independence. This Gnostic secret, revealed only after initiation through most dread rites, has been imparted to me by an ancient Greek school teacher who revealed that said success can be ascribed to the fact that sundry Greek freedom fighters sported the foustanella. It becomes apparent to all but the uninitiated that the long flowing skirts of the foustanella are ideal for the purpose of jumping over mountain crags and evading pursuers, whereas the wide sleeves of the accompanying shirt are ideal for drawing yataghans and propelling on over chasms. The hapless Turks, on the other hand, fumbling about in baggy shalwars, stood no chance in catching up to the elusive Greeks and stumbled over the first boulder they got to. Thus was freedom and Balkan mini-power status won.&lt;br /&gt;My august teacher’s proposition was one that perplexed me from an early age. Being girded with the foustanella and assorted accoutrements in order to attend the annual Independence Day march or other festivals was a time consuming process involving the employment of innumerable amount of safety pins to hold everything in place. Furthermore, we were all strictly injuncted not to move around, lest any of the fastenings come loose and the foustanella unravel. It thus appeared to me that rather than facilitate movement, the foustanella actually retarded it by virtue of the fact that by the time one secured the said garment and made rudimentary efforts to keep it clean, an enemy army would have come and gone.&lt;br /&gt;This pained me. Whenever I would don the foustanella, recollections of my aged teacher’s vivid description of the heroic pursuits of the freedom fighters and better men who had worn the same costume before me would flood my conscience, granting me a small stake in history. It was men in skirts who, having ensconced themselves in Souli, held out against the forces of the evil Ali Pasha. Those same skirt clad men held out bravely at Mesolongi, liberated Athens and drove the bloodthirsty Dramali from the Peloponnese. Attired in their pleats, the foustanelloforoi repeated these feats almost a hundred years later in the Balkan Wars and even in the mountains of Epirus in the Second World War, proving the military superiority of their gear.&lt;br /&gt;For this reason, unlike most of my contemporaries, who would only consent to wear the garb after considerable bribery from their progenitors (and indeed, one of my favourite childhood memories comprises of carefully leaning against St Eustathios church in such a way as not to soil the foustanella, on the day in which the liberation of Epirus was being commemorated, and listening to such contemporaries compete to outdo each other as to the magnitude of the bribes they had managed to extract), I secretly looked forward to the days when I could vest myself in the clothes of heroes, in the hope that by doing so, I would absorb their attributes, though it would have been social suicide to say so.&lt;br /&gt;Catching me in one of my more unsuspected moments strutting around preening myself and pretending to be Markos Botsaris, one of these contemporaries tugged me by my sleeve and proceeded to pull me down the stairs exclaiming: “Are you a tsolias? Then jump!” To my horror, and despite the fact that the foustanella was apparently made for such pursuits, I shrank back hesitantly, in mortal fear that my poorly made 1980’s model tsarouhia would probably not survive the impact of such a precipitous leap. Given then that I had refused to engage in tsolia-like pursuits, it seemed to me that I was dishonouring the uniform, disqualifying myself from identifying with tsoliades and consequently causing an ontopathological crisis into the bargain.&lt;br /&gt;Such an ontopathological crisis is beguiling and entrapping in its apparent simplicity, leading us to think that our progenitors had an insidious hidden agenda in insisting that their children wear the foustanella. For in Australia, the wearing of it is still largely the preserve of young children and only rarely that of adults. By donning clothes that one’s peers and environment deem to be properly suited to females, a public affirmation of Greek identity is made that can only be retracted with difficulty. A perilous crossroads of identity is crossed that can lead only to two pathways: A rejection of the Greek identity as something anachronistic and effeminate, or an embracement of and a commitment to it, as there is no going back once the cross-dressing divide has been surmounted. It is for this reason, to prove their offsprings’ Greek credentials that parents have been sending photographs of them clad in the foustanella, to their parents and relatives in Greece, where paradoxically enough, they are treated as articles of derision.&lt;br /&gt;My ersatz and secret love affair with the foustanella persisted throughout my teenage years and it was perhaps private knowledge of my own unsuitability to wear the said item (after all, which freedom fighter in the Grade 6 Greek history textbook is depicted as wearing glasses? Did not Tityros the teacher, in Kazantzakis’ masterpiece Kapetan Mihalis cast his glasses and western attire aside as a corruptive influence and don Romaic garb in order to regain his manliness and join the revolution?), that led me to deem my own mass-produced set, comprising of a shirt with a collar, blue velvet vest, striped blue and white belt reminiscent of the Greek flag and dark red velvet fez as ‘inauthentic,’ and this despite my having seen and enjoyed the Greek historical classic “Souli,” starring the same actors that playing Yiangos Drakos and Vyrna in the endless series “Lampsi,” in which every single male was clad in exactly the same blue and white costume as mine.&lt;br /&gt;Further, my Greek school teacher had taught me to despise the fez as an article of headwear imposed upon us by the Ottomans as a way of displaying our subjugation to them. This, as I later found out, was incorrect as the fez was originally Greek headgear, fashionable among Aegean islanders, that was adopted by the Ottomans in the nineteenth century as a symbol of progress and modernity. Indeed, one of the arguments employed by Kemal Ataturk when he banned the fez in 1925, was that it was the “headcovering of the Greeks.” Not knowing this at the time, I replaced my fez with a flat, fur Epirot hat and my blue velvet vest with a black embroidered “stavroto” vest, which seemed less gaudy and more plausible given the harshness of the terrain and everyday life.&lt;br /&gt;By this time however, I had reached my final growth spurt, one which my foustanella had failed to keep up with, to the extent where it barely covered the essentials, as I found out when, in 1999, I was coerced into attending a protest outside the American Embassy against the bombing of Kosovo, just after the Independence Day march. Not having time to change, I made my way there, and then back home, on the tram. Now it takes real man to wear a short skirt on public transport and survive to tell the tale, though I still want to belive that the comments about the shapeliness of my legs were genuine.&lt;br /&gt;My mini-fousta was necessarily replaced, after a trip to Northern Epirus by a thick goats’ hair dress ending just below the knee, refuting my Greek school teacher’s assertion that the foustanella was short and pantaloon like, and comprised of 400 pleats, one for each year of slavery. Given than most of Greece had fallen under the Ottoman sway prior to 1453 and of course, that most of Greece was not liberated in 1821, the fallacy of such an argument should have been obvious from the outset, yet caught up in the romanticism of neatly fitting symbolism, this was not so. Thus clad in my more demure but infinitely more chafing local variant, I felt that the ontopathological crisis of my youth had finally been resolved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be continued.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday, 10 September 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-7675839633182115800?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/7675839633182115800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=7675839633182115800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7675839633182115800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7675839633182115800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/09/foustanella.html' title='FOUSTANELLA'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pthi3dkKHhA/Tm1RdIQh5DI/AAAAAAAABBY/KEmEl8zeecI/s72-c/450px-Greek_guard_uniforms_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-6675027777824233482</id><published>2011-09-03T09:45:00.000+09:30</published><updated>2011-09-12T09:49:51.858+09:30</updated><title type='text'>PAUSANIAS: LONELY PLANETEER</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0V8Al8bYA7I/Tm1PdiY5hZI/AAAAAAAABBQ/RlYcGoVuRa0/s1600/pausanias_cm2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651260476285879698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0V8Al8bYA7I/Tm1PdiY5hZI/AAAAAAAABBQ/RlYcGoVuRa0/s400/pausanias_cm2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This week's diatribe is brought to you by the collective insecurity of the Greek people, who not content with feeling proud of their ancestor's multitude of achievements over the years, still feel the need to prove that either a) the Greeks do it better, or b) that they invented it along time ago and it was 'stolen' from them. Heading the list of stolen goods is one light bulb, fitting into the socket of civilization (τα φώτα του πολιτισμού). Poor misguided Greeks. Our light bulbs have been improved upon and replaced years ago. Think Neon.&lt;br /&gt;Nevertheless, and while in my intellectual paranoia I feel the hordes of angry ultraneoplatonists sweep their chlamys (this by the way is an article of clothing, not an ancient STD) across their shoulders and converge upon my personage in an angry but dignified (as befits a Platonist) droves and subject me to the extreme form of punishment, a never-ending Socratic symposium (I am still prone to recurring third year classics nightmares that entail wading through Plato's Symposium ad nauseum) I caveat all that has been said above by proudly stating that I have been able to find an instance where a) the Greeks did it better, b) they invented it and c) no one has really been able to improve on it.&lt;br /&gt;Pausanias, a doctor in Asia Minor who devoted ten to twenty years to traveling in mainland Greece during and after the reign of Hadrian, in the golden age of the Roman Empire, in about the second century is the case in point. During this time, this remarkable gentleman embarked upon a project which would have world wide consequence. He wrote a detailed account of every Greek city and sanctuary he visited along with a brief introductory history of the places he was visiting and a record of the local prevailing customs and beliefs. In short, Pausanias wrote the first Lonely Planet travel guide.&lt;br /&gt;As a guide, it is remarkably detailed and thoroughly engrossing. With an eye for detail, Pausanias describes, not only which are the noteworthy sites to visit in each area, but also what makes them significant. Comments such as "Look out for the painting of Perseus slaying Medusa on the left portico of the temple of Athena" grant the prose a freshness and directness that is to be envied, even today. Commentary too, often takes a gossipy tone, as if Pausanias is conversing with an old friend and telling him inside information on the side. "Beyond is a statue of Lysimachos.this Lysimachos was a Macedonian from Alexander's bodyguard.." What ensues is a detailed gossip session about Lysimachos and his sordid associates. Thoroughly decent stuff. The insights he provides on the local customs and beliefs are just as refreshing if somewhat opinionated: &lt;em&gt;"The territory of Corinth is part of the Argive territory which took its name from Korinthos. I never knew anyone maintain with such enthusiasm that Korinthos is a son of Zeus, except that most Corinthians say so."&lt;/em&gt; What we learn from Pausanias' encyclopaedic dip into ancient Greek anthropology, is that Greek religion and customs were not so rational, orderly and philosophical as some scholars would have us believe. In some parts, they are downright tribal and at any rate do not follow an established canon of 12 gods and a finite theology that ceased its development after the passage f the classical era. Pausanias traces for example, the creation of the native God of Oropos, Amphiaraos: &lt;em&gt;"The Oropians were the first to believe him to be a god, but since then all of Greece has come to think him one."&lt;/em&gt; From the modern perspective, of note is the evident obsession of the Greeks as recorded by the great man, with erecting shrines and sanctuaries throughout their lands, in direct parallel to the modern Greeks dotting the landscape with small προσκυνήματα and churches dedicated to almost every saint under the sun. Then as now, the need for divine protection reigned supreme. This is no moreso evident than in the prose of Pausanias himself. While capable of entertaining a sophisticated and philosophical solution of religious difficulties, he comes across as deeply religious and moralistic. We are taken by him on a journey whose unspoken purpose seems to have been the investigation of the collapse of the ancient religion and its consequences. It is for this reason that he generally prefers the old to the new, the sacred to the profane. He concentrates primarily on classical Greek art rather than contemporary art, and prefers temples, images of the gods and altars to public buildings and statues of politicians. Some of the iconic buildings of the ancient world, such as the Stoa of King Attalus in the Athens Agora, or the exedra of Herod Atticus at Olympia, do not even rate a mention.&lt;br /&gt;Pausanias chose his moment to write well. He wrote in Greek for educated Romans and sparked in them an interest and admiration for Greece. While Nero had looted Greece for treasures and Corinth had been reduced by Rome, every important monument of Greek antiquity was still standing in his time and his ten books that make up the Guide are invaluable to the archaeologist and historian alike. Notwithstanding Pausanias' considerable talents and in a paean to seeming futility, his work was a failure, enjoying no popularity immediately after his lifetime. Indeed, the first mention or quote we have of the work, is in the writings of Stephanus of Byzantium in the sixth century, with only a few obscure allusions to it to follow in the Middle Ages. That Pausanias' masterwork survived is a stroke of historical luck. All surviving copies seem to stem from a copy originating in the library of Archbishop Arethas of Caesarea. Indeed, the first mention or quote we have of the work, is in the writings of Stephanus of Byzantium in the sixth century, with only a few obscure allusions to it to follow in the Middle Ages. As a result, humanity came perilously close to losing the text altogether, with the only manuscripts of Pausanias being three 15th century copies, abounding in errors and lacunae, copied from a prototype that was owned by Florentine humanist Niccolo Niccoli, only to be acquired by the San Marco library in Venice in 1500, after which time, it disappeared. It is posited that this manuscript was first acquired by Cyriaco of Ancona in the fifteenth century who brought knowledge of Pausanias to the west. Since then, Pausanias' descriptions, though often sketchy and selective, have been thoroughly used for the location and identification of ancient sites and it is often the case that scholars who believed him to be mistaken on specific points have been proved wrong. The first use of Pausanias to identify ancient sites may be awarded to our very own George Gemistos Plethon, who Cyriaco visited at Mystra. Notwithstanding Pausanias' considerable talents and in a paean to seeming futility, his work was a failure, enjoying no popularity during his lifetime..&lt;br /&gt;It is also interesting to attempt to deduce the multitude of written sources that Pausanias would have consulted while writing his Guide and which are no longer extant. His variations in prose style tend to point to the use of many of these. After all, the Guide is well researched. He consulted the sacred officials and city guides of each city, he worked in great libraries and it is owing to him that the large proportion of non-Homeric epic Greek poetry survive today.&lt;br /&gt;Devoted to the idea of Greek liberty, Pausanias ended his days as an avid birdwatcher and traveler. His Guide remains a classic and it is said that it owes its genesis to his early pursuits. An expert on Homer as a young man, the malice and obstinancy of scholars in that field caused him to abandon it for travel writing. And what a boon to humanity that this was so.&lt;br /&gt;For those of you planning to planning or having left our shores for more vernal climates in the motherland, you would do well to take a copy of Pausanias with you. For those meagre bits of marble left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published at NKEE on Saturday 3 September 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-6675027777824233482?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/6675027777824233482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=6675027777824233482' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/6675027777824233482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/6675027777824233482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/09/pausanias-lonely-planeteer.html' title='PAUSANIAS: LONELY PLANETEER'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0V8Al8bYA7I/Tm1PdiY5hZI/AAAAAAAABBQ/RlYcGoVuRa0/s72-c/pausanias_cm2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-7825783056847008770</id><published>2011-08-27T11:05:00.001+09:30</published><updated>2011-08-29T11:08:18.829+09:30</updated><title type='text'>THE POLITICS OF ICONOGRAPHY</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ppYF8dyq6r0/TlrtRxh3miI/AAAAAAAABBI/kcT4DvKJdMc/s1600/icons.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646085972471290402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 324px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ppYF8dyq6r0/TlrtRxh3miI/AAAAAAAABBI/kcT4DvKJdMc/s400/icons.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In the secluded Byzantine monastery of Philanthropinon, which is perched mutely on a small hill on the island of Lake Pamvotis in Ioannina, counting both the vicissitudes of time and nature, there is a most singular iconographic depiction. For once one enters the exonarthex and casts their eyes to the left, seven great sages of Ancient Greece, rendered in exquisite Byzantine style, return that gaze. Unlike the usual Byzantine depiction of saints as serene mediators between earth and heaven, these sages appear quite animated, their hands lifted in disputation. Some, anachronistically, sport turbans and they lack the haloes that would otherwise have them be confused with those who have gained heavenly favour.&lt;br /&gt;Those depicted are also an eclectic mix and the inscriptions to the side of each figure are instructive, referring to “the Greek Aristotle,” “the Greek Plutarch,” “the Greek Solon,” and also “the Greek Thucydides the philosopher,” as well as Plato, Apollonius and the obscure Cheilon. The purpose behind the unlikely depiction of these non-Christian historical personalities in a Christian church of 1342, is to symbolize the synthesis and continuity between ancient Greek and Christian thought. The iconographic depiction is thus endearing in its naivety, especially given that it displays misconceptions as to those who it depicts – Thucydides and Plutarch were historians, not philosophers, and their contribution to Christian doctrine can be considered negligible indeed. Nonetheless, the honoured position afforded arbitrarily to sundry Greeks of ancient times represents a powerful message, of unbroken lineage and the continuous permeation of Greek thought through the belief systems of the Greek-speaking people, as well as tangible evidence of the evolving respect and love within scholarship for the thinkers of the past. The use of a church in order to convey such an idea is thus unique and historically significant.&lt;br /&gt;Or at least it was up until the present. For the Archbishop of Ochrid of the schismatic so-called “Macedonian Orthodox Church,” Stefan has recently permitted the depiction of no less a personage than Alexander the Great on the dome of the church of St Nikola in Štip, which also sports a lovely bronze statue of a muscular Alexander in its city square. The iconographic depiction on the dome of the church, is of a beardless youth, much resembling traditional depictions of the deacon and proto-martyr Stephanos, flanked by the star of Vergina, a pagan symbol of the Macedonian royal family, and along with an identifying title: “Alexander Makedonski.”&lt;br /&gt;In contrast with the ancient Greek sages of Philanthropinon monastery, who inhabit the exonarthex or lobby, not canonically considered part of the church proper, Alexander Makedonski is festooned upon a dome. In the Orthodox tradition, the dome represents heaven and it is usual for a representation of the Pantokrator – Christ as ruler of all to be painted upon it, or at least of other saints significant to the faith. For an “Orthodox” archbishop to authorise the painting of a pre-Christian historical personage, replete with pagan symbols, in one of the most important areas of a church would therefore be most disquieting and concerning for Orthodox believers and require immediate justification.&lt;br /&gt;As compared with the sages of Philanthropinon, and as far as can be discerned, Alexander the Great did not produce any original thoughts that permeated or influenced Christianity in any way. He was a king who indulged in savage massacres, purges of his friends and embarked upon a lengthy war of world domination that inflicted death and misery upon the nations he conquered. Though some may admire his precocity, vision and military prowess, it is difficult to see how his personality, attributes or deeds can justifiably afford him a place of honour in an ‘Orthodox’ church. So why is he there?&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps the answer may lie in the attempts of sundry Greek historians over the years, to argue that in spreading the Greek culture and language throughout the Middle East, initiating a process whereby Greek became the lingua franca of the whole region, Alexander inadvertently facilitated the preaching of the Gospel and the spread of Christianity and that somehow, this was divinely predetermined. Accordingly, it could well be that the Archbishop of Ochrid, in authorising Alexander’s depiction upon the dome is merely sending a powerful message about the central role that the Greek language has played in the spread and development of Christianity, as well as showing who is responsible for making the Greek language so intrinsic to that religion. If this truly is the case, he should be thanked for his sensitivity and admiration for the Greek language but also instructed by his brethren that such depictions are canonically inappropriate to the church he purports to lead and are in fact, unacceptable.&lt;br /&gt;One could be forgiven for thinking however, that linking Alexander to Christianity by whatever untenable means is not the Archbishop of Ochrid’s intention. Rather, it would appear that this is just one more in a series of populist, futile and ultimately sad endeavours to appropriate historical figures for nationalistic means. Such an effort can therefore be linked to the flurry of statue building within FYROM, the premise behind which could be a belief that if enough statues of Alexander or Philip can be built, then miraculously, the whole world will come to believe that these personages have nothing to do with Greece but are instead, ethnically and historically linked to the embattled little republic that is struggling to maintain ethnic and social cohesion.&lt;br /&gt;While no Balkan state is immune to gross populist displays and attempts at appropriation, attempts to link these tendencies to religion are ultimately harmful and quite possibly, sacreligious. Christianity, the religion espoused by the Archbishop of Ochrid, is a conviction about the nature of Jesus. It is certainly not a conviction about the nationality of Alexander the Great. Sadly, in FYROM, all elements of society seem bent upon a herculean effort to establish the historically unestablishable. The Archbishop’s distasteful act which could understandably offend the sensitivities of the Orthodox faithful throughout the world, may further imperil the reputation of a church that is not recognised by any canonical Orthodox Church, as one whose priorities may lie in historic revisionism rather than the Gospel.&lt;br /&gt;Such a concerning trend appears to lie deep within FYROMian society. A visit to any suburban cemetery in Melbourne will reveal a startling contrast – while the majority of the graves of the Orthodox deceased depict such Christian symbols as a cross, an icon or perhaps a statue of Panagia, there are a multitude of graves of deceased whose origins or cultural affiliation lie in FYROM, who, along with or to the exclusion of such Christian symbols, sport the star of Vergina, or occasionally, a map of ‘United Macedonia,’ showing the Bulgarian, Greek and FYROMIAN parts forming a constituent whole. While there is no accounting for taste, it appears disturbing that one would choose such a sombre and isolated place to make a final, futile political statement. Nonetheless, one could conclude from such displays, how overwhelmingly deep the desire to assert one’s conviction about their assumed identity lies, and how it takes precedence over almost everything else.&lt;br /&gt;Who knows? Should such nationalistic edifices survive the ravages of time, perhaps archaeologists of the future will posit that in FYROM, circa 2011 a highly syncretic and synthesized religion was developed combining the worship of Jesus and Alexander the Great. In the meantime, a needless conflict over long gone historical personalities of dubious moral fibre continues incessantly. What speaks volumes, is that such a conflict is concerned with the affiliation of personages that caused loss of life and human suffering in the interests of power, rather than the claiming as one’s own, of those, like the sages of the exonarthex of Philanthropinon, who moved others with their thoughts alone, and inspired them to achieve excellence, for the benefit of the whole of humanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday, 27 August 2011&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-7825783056847008770?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/7825783056847008770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=7825783056847008770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7825783056847008770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7825783056847008770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/08/politics-of-iconography.html' title='THE POLITICS OF ICONOGRAPHY'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ppYF8dyq6r0/TlrtRxh3miI/AAAAAAAABBI/kcT4DvKJdMc/s72-c/icons.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-3779806153890169903</id><published>2011-08-14T10:10:00.001+09:30</published><updated>2011-08-18T10:13:32.303+09:30</updated><title type='text'>THE DORMITION OF THE THEOTOKOS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a8AZlzDqAPw/TkxgFVwNjXI/AAAAAAAABA4/iIQgGy9OwLk/s1600/dorm.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641990078043360626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 296px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a8AZlzDqAPw/TkxgFVwNjXI/AAAAAAAABA4/iIQgGy9OwLk/s400/dorm.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Neither the grave nor death could contain the Theotokos, the unshakable hope, ever vigilant in intercession and protection. As Mother of life, He who dwelt in the ever-virginal womb transposed her to life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;With out a doubt, the greatest human figure of Eastern Christianity would have to be Mary the Mother of God. The concept that a mere mortal can be deemed suitable to conceive and bring forth into world the Deity is vast, inexplicable and profoundly moving. In allowing such a state of affairs to occur, the Deity awards humanity the most supreme honour, to have him in us so completely, that one of us can give birth to Him.&lt;br /&gt;As a result, the Theotokos, "bearer of God" in Orthodox tradition becomes a multifaceted figure, whose various roles are innumerable. As the supreme Mother, the Compassionate, the Merciful and the Guide, through the Theotokos, also known as the All Holy (Panayia) the Orthodox faith affords the supreme place in the body of the faithful in womanhood, which through the act of giving birth to God, is set at the level of the highest honour.&lt;br /&gt;In traditional Greek Orthodox thought, the Theotokos plays an extremely important role and could be said to be the de facto head of the Greek nation. In times of trouble, when the nation was threatened by barbarian incursions, natural disasters or unjust rulers, Greeks looked to Panayia for succour. Thus, all victories were ascribed to her. It was held to be through the divine protection of the Theotokos that Constantinople was protected against the invasion of the Slavs and Avars, that the Emperor Heraclius wrested the Holy Cross from the Persians and set it up in Jerusalem. More significantly, popular belief held that the Emperors of Byzantium held their crown through the mandate of Theotokos herself. Tradition has it that on the last night before the fall of Constantinople, the Theotokos descended from Heaven and demanded the imperial crown of the Emperor, thus signifying her withdrawal of protection over her city and warning of its imminent fall.&lt;br /&gt;Panayia reputedly also protected Greek troops in the liberation of Northern Epirus during World War II and also during the War of Independence. Tradition has her miraculously curing Greek freedom fighter George Karaiskakis of a gun-shot wound. She is also constantly present in the lives of everyday people. Depicted often as a mother nursing Christ, named the "quick-listener," "the sweet-embracer", the "all-encompassing", the "all-seeing", the "undying rose" and thousands of other appellations, the Panayia is the first point of reference for the Greek people's prayers. Indeed, one of the most frequent prayers in the liturgy is for the Theotokos to intercede on behalf of the faithful. As a human, she is considered to be best placed to feel our pain.&lt;br /&gt;During the Holy Week of Easter, the Church dirges for Christ's crucifixion centre on the very human pain of the Theotokos losing her son. She is a figure we can identify with more readily than the other celestial inhabitants, simply because her pain is very close to us.&lt;br /&gt;It therefore surprises no-one that the anniversary of the Koimisis of Theotokos is one of the most important days of the Orthodox calendar. As is related within the Holy Tradition of the Church, a few days before the 15th of August, an angel of the Lord appeared before the Panayia and told her that her Son was calling her to His side. At that time, while she was over seventy, her face reputedly had not lost its angelic glow. The very next night, she went to the Mount of Olives and gave thanks to God. She then returned home and began to prepare herself.&lt;br /&gt;The Bishop Jacob of Jerusalem, her friends and family begged her to remain with them but she calmly blessed those present and exhorted them always to practise Christian love, and follow the teachings of Christ. At that stage, the apostles suddenly appeared before her. They had been miraculously borne from where they were preaching at the ends of the earth so they may farewell the Mother of their Teacher. After addressing each one and giving them her blessing, the Panayia lay back on her bed, closed her eyes and fell asleep, departing from her earthly existence.&lt;br /&gt;She was buried amidst lamentation in Gesthemane and three days later, the apostle Thomas went to her grave, to get a glimpse of her for the last time. Her body was not there. The bodily assumption of the Theotokos was confirmed by the message of an angel and by her appearance to the Apostles.&lt;br /&gt;The commemoration of this event is a Great Feast of the Church and a national holiday in Greece, celebrating a fundamental teaching of the Orthodox faith-the Resurrection of the body. In the case of the Theotokos, this has been accomplished by the divine will of God. Thus, this Feast is a feast of hope in Resurrection and life eternal. Like those who gathered around the body of the Virgin Mary, the faithful gather around their departed loved ones and commend their souls into the hands of Christ. As they remember those who have reposed in the faith before them and have passed on into the communion of the Saints, the faithful prepare themselves to one day be received into the new life of the age to come.&lt;br /&gt;The commemoration of the Dormition of the Theotokos and the preparation for the Feast begin on 1 August with a period of fasting. A strict fast is followed on most of the days (no meat, dairy, oil, or wine), with the exceptions of fish on the Feast of the Transfiguration (August 6) and the day of the Dormition. Oil and Wine are allowed on Saturdays and Sundays.&lt;br /&gt;On the weekdays before the Feast, Paraklesis services are held in most parishes. These consist of the Great Paraklesis and the Small Paraklesis, both services of supplication and prayer for the intercessions of the Theotokos.&lt;br /&gt;All over Greece, the faithful will mass to churches that have a special significance for the Greek people, such as Panagia Soumela in Veroia and Panagia of Tinos. Last year for the first time, the Oecumenical Patriarch was permitted to conduct the celebration of the Feast at Panagia Soumela in Pontus. Let us hope that this tradition is continued so that all churches will resound joyfully with the kontakion of the Dormition:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"In birth, you preserved your virginity; in death, you did not abandon the world, O Theotokos. As mother of life, you departed to the source of life, delivering our souls from death by your intercessions." &lt;/em&gt;Χρόνια Πολλά.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 14 August 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-3779806153890169903?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/3779806153890169903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=3779806153890169903' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/3779806153890169903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/3779806153890169903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/08/dormition-of-theotokos.html' title='THE DORMITION OF THE THEOTOKOS'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a8AZlzDqAPw/TkxgFVwNjXI/AAAAAAAABA4/iIQgGy9OwLk/s72-c/dorm.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-5189605711080527243</id><published>2011-08-06T09:34:00.000+09:30</published><updated>2011-08-09T09:36:58.051+09:30</updated><title type='text'>PALLADION</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rfoAlwXY8LA/TkB59uTKKXI/AAAAAAAABAw/Gfg7Qxnn_1I/s1600/660px-Nike_warrior_Louvre_Ma969.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638640834775230834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 364px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rfoAlwXY8LA/TkB59uTKKXI/AAAAAAAABAw/Gfg7Qxnn_1I/s400/660px-Nike_warrior_Louvre_Ma969.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When the bell of the church of St Haralambos tolls dolorously, the inhabitants of the village of Perama on the outskirts of Ioannina cross themselves and ask: "Who is dead?" Immediately afterwards, they ask: "Where?" for half of the village lives in Melbourne and any news concerning any one of its number, whether a birth, marriage or death is immediately relayed home so rapidly, that often, the news is received on the other side of the world more quickly than it takes for it to reach the other side of Melbourne. Loss is keenly felt in the village, regardless of the separation of distance and time, for though it may have been split in two, somehow, the village has managed to survive as a complete and unsundered entity both in the consciousness of the children in its bosom, as well as those across the water.&lt;br /&gt;It is for this reason that the bells of St Haralambos tolled at exactly the same time as those of St Dimitrios in Moonee Ponds, as we carried out our 105 year old great-grandmother Panayio's coffin out of the church and onto the hearse last week, vainly fighting back tears as we did so. I stood in silence, watching the hearse pull away from the church slowly, ripping from me, with each agonizingly ponderous revolution of the tire, a piece of my soul. Turning back towards the church however, I beheld a veritable multitude emerging from the door, spilling out onto the steps. Some were family, others friends, for my great-grandmother had touched many lives, but most were «χωριανοί,» migrants from the ancestral village, mostly ageing grandparents in their own right, who could not remember my great-grandmother as anything but an old woman, and who were reassured by her presence, upon their arrival in Australia, that nothing had changed. Consequently, she remained as their one thing constant in their otherwise completely altered world, a symbol of continuity but also of unity.&lt;br /&gt;In the mythology of our ancestors, the Palladion was an image of great antiquity on which the safety of a city was said to depend, signifying especially the wooden statue of Pallas Athena that Odysseus stole from Troy and which was later taken to the future site of Rome by Aeneas. If anything, yiayia-Panayio was the village Palladion, removed from Perama and brought to Melbourne. As long as she was alive, as custodian of a tradition and ancestral history transcending the generations the village would always be one, because they would always be someone to remind them of their common origins.&lt;br /&gt;One by one, they filed past us to pay their respects. "They are all gone, all the old people," one distraught «θείο,» lamented tearfully. "First my mother and now yiayia. We are all alone." His sense of distress, is shared by the entire ex-patriate community. The first thing that he, along with his other fellow villages would invariably do whenever they would meet us by chance on the street or at a function would be to ask anxiously after yiayia. If yiayia was well and thriving (which she always was), then all was right with the world. Now that talisman of fortune is gone and all the uncertainty that comes with the realization that nothing remains static, not even the palliatives that we create in our own minds, assails their secret fears of isolation and disintegration pitilessly.&lt;br /&gt;We of the second generation generally seldom see or mix with persons that have migrated from our parent's villages us much as we used to in our childhood, though we still hear their news, owing to a whole gamut of obstacles that life has thrown up before us that have rendered us exceedingly time-poor and unable to appreciate or enjoy the extended networks of people that pre-exist us. Nonetheless, we are still dimly conscious that they are there, however dormant, and ready to be called upon at any time. Through my great-grandmother, I learnt the entire family history of most of the families in her village, stretching back five or six generations. It is a connection, an unbroken lineage of mutual assistance and support transcending time, that unites my life to theirs and their descendants, should they have knowledge of this unique connection, and theirs, to mine.&lt;br /&gt;In times of crisis, especially deaths, the whole dormant network materializes out of nowhere in force, to offer sincere respect, concern, solidarity and assistance to the grieving. They in turn, rather than be put off by the intrusion, (for the modern zeitgeist tends to overly centre on the individual) are heartened by it, for the burden of grief is better borne when it is shared and because there is something deeply ingrained within the psyche of that generation that causes them to turn in times of hardship to a support network fostered at a different time, thousands of kilometers away.&lt;br /&gt;Inevitably, as the years pass, the members of that network become fewer and fewer, for their offspring do not always replace them. It is for this reason that the final farewell to one of their members, especially their Palladion, is given added poignancy and why, the presence of so many second generation members of this network, to acknowledge the uniting presence and immense contribution of a selfless and truly remarkable woman made to so many lives, is so heartwarming. It gives lie to the assumption that links between people forged in the past have little contemporary relevance and should not survive their transplantation to foreign climes and sundry temporal realities. If anything, they serve as a point of reference and a custodian of those values and shared experiences that led inexorably, to the point we find ourselves today, the building blocks of what we understand to comprise our community.&lt;br /&gt;As the generations grow older and the links that bind them are prized apart, first-generation funerals remain to remind us of how infinitely poorer our lives will become (and indeed, how ill-attended our own rites of passage will be) when and if those final links are shattered and lost, without being replaced by descendants willing to acknowledge the ties that bind them with others. For if we do not relate to each other on the basis of our common origin then what other ideological construct could unite our community and preserve our identity? Our Palladion is our knowledge of the intricate and often traumatic web of shared experience that connect us to each other. And as long as that is preserved, those who have had the privilege to symbolize it throughout their lives, will always be with us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE Saturday 6 August 2011.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-5189605711080527243?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/5189605711080527243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=5189605711080527243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/5189605711080527243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/5189605711080527243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/08/palladion.html' title='PALLADION'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rfoAlwXY8LA/TkB59uTKKXI/AAAAAAAABAw/Gfg7Qxnn_1I/s72-c/660px-Nike_warrior_Louvre_Ma969.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-4357990016610606104</id><published>2011-07-30T09:41:00.000+09:30</published><updated>2011-08-05T09:43:52.848+09:30</updated><title type='text'>LINGUA GRAECA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AWnHOigfhOo/Tjs1f7Ll31I/AAAAAAAABAo/IXBJKHh8dt8/s1600/Greekinscrip.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637158181162835794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 310px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AWnHOigfhOo/Tjs1f7Ll31I/AAAAAAAABAo/IXBJKHh8dt8/s400/Greekinscrip.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Recently, while discussing the relative merits or otherwise of a particularly pernicious and corpulent lady from the ancestral village, one of my aged great aunts remarked to me: &lt;em&gt;"But what do you expect from such a zhaba."&lt;/em&gt; This decidedly non-Greek word placed the author upon a train of inquiry that fruited this week's Diatribe.&lt;br /&gt;In the general Greek consciousness, it is held that the Greek language is somehow superior to others. Proponents of this point of view tend to point to the languages' distinguished pedigree, that it was the first written European language that has survived and riding the orgasmic wave of patriotism, climax triumphantly with the proposition that Greek has lent vast numbers of loanwords to other languages, forms a large percentage of these and thus is inherently logical, superior and pure. This rather extreme view belies an inherent uneasiness as to its veracity. Yet this is nothing new. The plague of foreign loanwords has been with us ever since our ancestors descended into the Balkans, mixed with the proto-Hellenic aborigines of the region and acquired a veneer of their civilization. Thus words like τύραννος and Κόρινθος from the outset are loanwords from our more advanced co-habitants. Depending on which part of Greece Greeks settled in, they also adopted Thracian, Illyrian and Phrygian words. During the classical period which has left us with so many gems of literature, Ionian and its sub-dialect, Attic, were developed to full effect. Aeolian, spoken in Thessaly and Boeotia was used for pastoral poetry and odes, while Doric, the language of the primitive Spartans, Epirots and Macedonians generally fell by the wayside, surviving only in the shrinking Tsakonian dialect today and in Albanian grammatical forms. By the time of the Roman conquest and owing to the invasions of Alexander, Greek in its standardized koine form enjoyed unparalleled prestige. The Greek alphabet was even used to transcribe the language of the Kushans in Afghanistan. Nevertheless, the 'scourge' of loanwords was unrelenting. The word κουστοδία, or armed guard along with a plethora of other Roman words entered the vocabulary, as did a multitude of Semitic words, with the advent of Christianity.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes words that appear decidedly non-Greek were in fact coined in Greek, borrowed by another language and re-loaned back to Greek with interest in a lectical transaction that would confound even the most adroit hedge-fund banker. Thus lasagna is said to derive from the ancient Greek, a flat sheet of pasta dough cut into strips and from which lagana, a type of bread eaten in Greece also is derived. Similarly, Bath, is derived from the latin Bagno which in turn is said to be derived from the Greek balanion.&lt;br /&gt;Word borrowing achieved epic proportions during Byzantium where erudite scholars, the ancestors of today's linguistic Pharisees and word-Νazis, lamenting the 'corruption' of the Greek, took it upon themselves to write in unintelligible 'purified' 5th century Attic. Works by Irene Palaiologina Choumnaina are written in something approaching the spoken Greek of the period, are homely and comfortable. The stilted and convoluted prose of Anna Komneni however sometimes reminds one of the stuffiness of Persian court poetry, with the farce of the Junta thrown in. Interestingly though, it is through her chronicle that we gain the first recording of the Vlach language and Slavic words such as «ντόμπρος» (lit. good) to describe an upright character can also be traced to this period, granting our language great richness and diversity.&lt;br /&gt;The Ottoman Empire merely exacerbated a trend that had begun in Byzantium with the mass migration of Slavs, Vlachs and Albanians into Northern Greece and Peloponnesus respectively. Most of the villages in Northern Greece bear Slavic names from the time of the empire of Serb Stefan Dusan over the area. Thousands of foreign words entered the Greek language as the inhabitants lived with each other, conversed, expressed thoughts and ideas. Bistritsa, the name of several villages, means clear running water in Bulgarian. In my mother's village, a central hill that encloses a vast network of caves, stalagmites and stalactites is known as "Goritsa," which in Slavonic, means little mountain.&lt;br /&gt;Yet, in constructing a new national identity from scratch, our leading scholars continued the Byzantine and strangely Freudian tradition of obsession with purity. First with kathareuousa, 'purified' Greek, and its milder form, demotic, it was the deliberate policy of successive governments and thinkers to impose a form of Greek on the populace. A dialect of Peloponnesian was foisted upon the Greeks as the most 'acceptable' form of the language and our rich dialect tyradition was left to wither on the vine, the butt of jokes and scorn by self-confident southerners. Pontian-speakers of a certain age relate stories of being beaten at school for not speaking 'proper' Greek even though Pontian Greek preserves a unique array of ancient forms. In Greek movies, a particularly uneducated or dense person is type cast as speaking dialect.&lt;br /&gt;Purity of language or superiority of same is an illusion that went out of academic fashion with the suicide of Hitler. Every language has to play a part in the unique facilitation of global communication. No language has ever remained unsullied by foreign penetration. Whatever puritans may say, intertextual intercourse is a fact of life, and what's more, is rather fun. Many of our everyday words, from, πόρτα to μπρίκι to γιαούρτι happen to be loan words. So much for the purity or superiority of our language. If this were the case, then there would never have been a need to borrow. Yet the borrowings, this time from English, continue. Purists must realize that abstinence from intertextual intercourse creates frustration and ultimately an absence of fertile thought.&lt;br /&gt;To be asked as a child by Asia Minor dialect speaking grandparents to grab the μπαγκράτς (bucket) and take it to the γκαντούν' (corner) is to engage not only in world-wide communication but into their own personal history as refugees. To my question to my aunt as to the Greekness of the word zhaba, the answer was &lt;em&gt;"of course, we are Greeks aren't we?"&lt;/em&gt; Zhaba is a Greek word. Borrowed from Albanian, which in turn borrowed it from the Slavonic it can either mean bullfrog or huge. And this remarkable borrowing does not end there. For it is no coincidence that zhaba sounds inordinately like Jabba and George Lucas appears to have engaged in some fantastic intertextual intercourse of his own.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 30 July 2011&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-4357990016610606104?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/4357990016610606104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=4357990016610606104' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/4357990016610606104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/4357990016610606104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/07/lingua-graeca.html' title='LINGUA GRAECA'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AWnHOigfhOo/Tjs1f7Ll31I/AAAAAAAABAo/IXBJKHh8dt8/s72-c/Greekinscrip.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-2879472060016376097</id><published>2011-07-23T09:21:00.000+09:30</published><updated>2011-07-26T09:24:25.427+09:30</updated><title type='text'>JUST ICE FOR CYPRUS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rKH7Txsc5lU/Ti4CGz6sXyI/AAAAAAAABAg/_Tzd-jn3Ek4/s1600/comm_cyprus_01_436624644.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633442499925925666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 261px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rKH7Txsc5lU/Ti4CGz6sXyI/AAAAAAAABAg/_Tzd-jn3Ek4/s400/comm_cyprus_01_436624644.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"When I was a boy we didn't wake up with Vietnam and have Cyprus for lunch and the Congo for dinner."&lt;/em&gt; Lyndon Baines Johnson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every year, on the day of the annual Justice for Cyprus protest march, the weather in Melbourne turns invariably cold and miserable. The final true believers, like drips from a tap that has long ceased to flow, pool together on Lonsdale Street, dressed in their heavy winter coats, exhaling steam, as their brows are furrowed in frowns. With the passing of each protest there are fewer and fewer of them and even the ultimate reluctant protesters who emerge at the last minute from the coffee shops do not swell their ranks considerably. The car with the loudspeakers begins to move, barking out barely intelligible slogans in a heavily accented voice. The small crowd, holding hastily scrawled placards, follows it down the empty street, intoning half-heartedly for the benefit of the blank windows and closed-shopfronts: &lt;em&gt;"Tzastis four Sayprous,"&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;"Terkis troups, aout of Sayprous."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;They turn the corner into Swanston Street and the chant immediately intensifies for there are shoppers lining both sides of the street and they view the flag-carrying, slogan-chanting protesters with bemusement. Possibly, just one of these, through hearing the words "Turkish Troops out of Cyprus," will be placed upon a train of inquiry that will result in them researching and consequently feeling outraged about the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1974. Quite conceivably, they will then learn of the rape and slaughter of innocent civilians, the seizure of property and the pain of exile. Some of them may even become incensed to learn that such august personages as Cherie Blair QC are supporting the illegal occupation of Cyprus, through their legal representation of persons who have illegally purchased properties from third parties who have violently seized these from their rightful Cypriot owners. Indeed, in the five minute walk from the Lonsdale Street end of Swanston Street, to the Bourke Street end, more than one person could be inspired, or given pause to consider, by this chance and random encounter. And if, over the thirty seven years that the Justice for Cyprus protest has been conducted at least two persons are so moved, then who knows what could ensue? The icy and vacant stares of passersby betray nothing of their sentiments.&lt;br /&gt;Briskly, the marchers turn into Bourke Street and begin the climb up to Parliament House. In years past, by this stage, the last group of protesters would still be at Lonsdale Street, but in this age of efficiency and rationalization, this is no longer the case. The momentum of the chant carries them forward, though by the Russell Street intersection, there is no one walking the street and the slogans bounce off icy and faceless buildings to rebound on the bitumen below. It is no longer cold. Warmth is being generated by the proximity of the people packed closely together and their marching in unison. Beaming, they propel themselves forward, in the half-belief that their words of truth are being dispersed from the silent street and into the wider world.&lt;br /&gt;On the fourth rank from the head of the protest, some community organisation presidents are comparing this year's protest unfavourably with those of years past. They wonder why their fellow presidents no longer see fit to attend the march, though it was the place to be for many years. Where are the professionals? The businessmen? Finally, as they reach the stone facade of Parliament, they mount its steps to look down at the pitifully small group of campaigners milling about below. As they do, they take a sharp intake of breath. For it is in that moment, that realization comes, as cruelly and inexorably as it comes to a man who can no longer lift or move as much as he once was able to - the realization of old age and infirmity. So too, is it now realized that a community of some 250,000 Greek-speakers is not able to muster even one thousand people to protest against the occupation of a third of Cyprus. The tragedy is not so much the sudden comprehension that our labours all of these years are akin to those of Sisiphus, doomed to carry a boulder uphill, only to see it roll back down again, but rather, that we Sisiphians, are now, too weak, even to budge such boulders and undertake such futile tasks. This then, is our Tartarus.&lt;br /&gt;When I stand with my back to Parliament and view the crowd, I heed not the speeches of the politicians (this year there were none, merely a parliamentary employee who mumbled something incomprehensible about the necessity of living in peace and harmony and who did not even have the strength of conviction to condemn the invasion and occupation.) Their absence is no matter for successive Australian governments are decent and compassionate. All have condemned the invasion and all have attempted to assist the process of a resolution of the conflict and will continue to do so. Nor do I overly heed the well-phrased exposition of the current status of negotiations by the erudite Cypriot High Commissioner, or the impassioned and rousing speech by the visiting Metropolitan of Kition, though his presence merely serves to juxtapose the absence of our local ecclesiastical leaders, something that fits ill with the traditional Modern Greek conception of clerics at the forefront of what we term "national struggles." Similarly, I pay no heed to the platitudes spoken by representatives of local organisations, the well-executed English speech by a member of the "neolaia," which commences with a thanksgiving to the few youth attending. Neither do I pay heed to my own speech, conveying the heartfelt greetings and feelings of solidarity of a people that too have known loss, persecution, privation, the division of their country and who know it still; the Greeks of Northern Epirus. How can our words tally up and weigh lifetimes of misery?&lt;br /&gt;Instead, I look down the steps to the women shrouded in black. Year after year, each one of them holds a fading black and white picture of a loved one. These loved ones have not grown old. Their images are as fresh and youthful as the day they were taken. Their clothes and hairstyles are dated, yet the look of optimism and confidence in the future is eternal. Time has not been as kind to those that mourn them, their sisters, wives and mothers, who hold their pictures and an olive wreath. As the dignitaries speak, their eyes are continuously brimming with tears that pool on their lower eyelids and are carried away through the channels of sadness that furrow their grey faces. No words, no sentiments, no slogans will bring their loved ones back to them, or their lost youth. They will go to the grave wondering, but never knowing, what their last hours were, for these are the "agnoomenoi," the missing, whose fate is still unaccounted.&lt;br /&gt;Finally, after a desultory rendition of the Australian and Greek anthems, the small gathering slinks away. There is no residual energy, no enthusiasm, none of the fire that is an outpouring of conviction fervently held. In Cavafian style, the contemporary Poseidonians have muttered their mantras and gone their way, cold. The icy streets of Melbourne on the wintry Sunday are left to bear mute witness to their grim conviction, never to forget, long after they cease to believe that their persistence will bear even the fruit of continued memory.&lt;br /&gt;The next Sunday, and the Sunday after that, the black clad Cypriot women who have been dedicated to the icy grimness of a blighted life will go to church and light a candle for their missing people. They will whisper a prayer and look forward to the night when they will be visited by them in their dreams. And sometimes, more often than they would care to admit, they will see again what they saw in those horrific days that are now summed up in a few words at the steps of Parliament and they will wake up in mute scream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 23 July 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-2879472060016376097?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/2879472060016376097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=2879472060016376097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2879472060016376097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2879472060016376097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/07/just-ice-for-cyprus.html' title='JUST ICE FOR CYPRUS'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rKH7Txsc5lU/Ti4CGz6sXyI/AAAAAAAABAg/_Tzd-jn3Ek4/s72-c/comm_cyprus_01_436624644.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-2033164338446382328</id><published>2011-07-16T10:00:00.000+09:30</published><updated>2011-07-21T10:03:52.733+09:30</updated><title type='text'>ΟΙ ΑΓΑΝΑΚΤΙΣΜΕΝΟΙ</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U99TeLAPTM0/Tidz2XiQZoI/AAAAAAAAA_4/RsSI4tXCAzY/s1600/aganaktismeni.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631597236917921410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 254px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U99TeLAPTM0/Tidz2XiQZoI/AAAAAAAAA_4/RsSI4tXCAzY/s400/aganaktismeni.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"What I don't get about you Greeks is this: How come here you all work hard and do marvellous things in this country but in your own country, you slack off? When I went to Greece earlier this year, the buildings were dingy and run-down, nothing worked, and all the Greeks were sitting around the coffee shops drinking frappe and looking aimlessly while the country was collapsing all around them. It just doesn't make sense to me."&lt;/em&gt; I looked up from my undercooked steak and fixed the portly features of the garrulous property developer sitting opposite me with a stern stare. Undaunted, with just a suspicion of asparagus head visible from the side of her mouth she continued:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"And you are all so law abiding and peaceful here. Over there, you smash up the shops and run riot. I'd hate to see what would happen to Australia if you guys don't get your way one day."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;At this, I dropped my fork. As I am particularly attached to food and the implements invented in order to convey sundry comestibles into the mouth for the purposes of consumption and especially the fork, a Byzantine invention that has served us all in good stead for aeons, the moment when the fork touched the laminate surface of the table with a muted clang was one filled with drama indeed.&lt;br /&gt;That Greece is in a parlous financial state is not a novel concept. Greece's finances, nay, its very existence, has been precarious long before and after Harilaos Trikoupis, one of the more visionary prime ministers of Greece declared bankruptcy in 1893, using the immortal lines: «Δυστυχώς επτωχεύσαμεν.» In 1932, in the aftermath of the Asia Minor catastrophe, Eleutherios Venizelos would also paraphrase those lines, declaring bankruptcy thus: «τελικώς επτωχεύσαμεν.» That bankruptcy had to do with debts stemming from the time of the Balkan Wars of 1912-13, exacerbated by the Stock Market Crash of 1929, just as Greece's financial woes today, have to do with mounting debt exacerbated by the Global Financial Crisis.&lt;br /&gt;There is a deeply disquieting delight and schadenfreude displayed by many over the plight of the Greek people and the futile and often violent way in which they are expressing their frustration at the plight of their country, (they refer to themselves as the Indignant - the title of this diatribe) as if the entire world is gathering to laughingly kick our Hellenic brethren, while they are down. It is all well for the portly property developer, having eventually masticated her asparagus, her to comment gleefully: &lt;em&gt;"serves them right for not wanting to pay tax. Why can't they take a leaf out of your book?"&lt;/em&gt; yet this would ignore a true understanding as to why such multitudes have taken to the streets to voice their protest in the only way they have been taught to do so by the Socialist Party (which staked its claim to power on the back of this tradition): through demonstrations reminiscent of the Polytechnic Uprising. PASOK has taught Modern Indignant Greeks that if they kick and scream, burn a few cars and bring the city to a standstill, then they will get their way, as this was the way that the glorious students from the Polytechnic defeated the fascist dictators. Unfortunately, this time, no one is listening. Indeed, some of those who were involved in those democratic protests of the past and made a career on the back of them, such as the pachyderm Theodoros Pangalos, now have the temerity to pour scorn on the protesters, claiming, in Pangalos' case, that they don't scare him and making allegations of collective guilt such as: «Μαζί τα φάγαμε.»&lt;br /&gt;This, in fact, is true. Successive Greek governments (and it is the PASOK government that has mostly ruled since the fall of the Junta), have misapplied European and other funding, by using them to fund an unviable welfare system, and provide handouts to their clientele in an effort to buy votes, rather than invest in the development of the country and a functioning civil service that actually delivers results. We have seen this in action through the tremendous amount of money expended in the setting up of a Land Registry office that seems to have never gotten off the ground, despite the government funded junkets for officials to Australia and America to explain it to us, and of course the Council of Greeks Abroad, where the government inexplicably paid for the tickets of 400 or so delegates around the world to attend a conference in Thessaloniki, solely for the point of voting for a president, sanctioned by Greek politicians.&lt;br /&gt;Greek governments have reared two generations of Greek voters on the expectation that when they jump up and down and take to the streets, that they will have their demands acceded to, regardless as to how unrealistic these have become. Consequently, these governments have fostered a political culture that is centered not around clarity, efficiency, transparency and viability, but rather, around squeezing the government for concessions that translate into votes. It is indeed, an inordinately immature political culture and this can be evidenced by the fact that the Greek people are not so much protesting at the lack of political guidance and government but rather, the fact that they will have to endure austerity cuts. They, as a result of the political culture created around, them, lack the benefit of perspective, to view Greece's plight through the prism of a failure of the current rotten political system.&lt;br /&gt;In this country for the moment, Greek-Australians are brought up secure in the knowledge that they will go to school, study at University if they want to, find a job, get married, buy a house and have a family. This is the great migrant dream. In Greece however, that security of life-path does not exist. Whether or not one goes to University depends on whether their parents have enough money for tutors, or can afford to send you overseas to study if you fail to enter the Greek institutions. Upon your return, you are not guaranteed a job - and if you do obtain it, this will have more to do with your family connections that your abilities. As a result, you will probably not be in a position to buy property unless one of your relatives dies and leaves you some money, so the setting up of a household and having a family is not a certain proposition. Even if you do manage your way by luck to navigate through the shoals of these difficulties, you will, in the course of your life, come into contact with a state whose organs are self-serving and self-justificatory and a bureaucracy that seems dedicated to maximum annoyance and minimum service. Faced with this, a state that appears to exist only for itself, why would you want to pay tax? At least in Australia, one of the highest taxing nations in the world, there is a belief in a system that does provide benefits and the ensuing social capital is one of the driving forces behind compliance. Thanks to Greek politicians, with their propensity to occupy Greek talk shows and scream at each other, there is no such social capital.&lt;br /&gt;Having been treated to an exposition of the above, my property developer dining companion know knows that the people of Greece deserve our sympathy, not our derision, at their current plight. However, they also need help in understanding that if they do not realize the flaws and attempt to rebuild a responsible corporate political system, whereby politicians and citizens adhere to the rules, they are doomed to chase their tails for eternity.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday, 16 July 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-2033164338446382328?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/2033164338446382328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=2033164338446382328' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2033164338446382328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2033164338446382328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/07/blog-post.html' title='ΟΙ ΑΓΑΝΑΚΤΙΣΜΕΝΟΙ'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U99TeLAPTM0/Tidz2XiQZoI/AAAAAAAAA_4/RsSI4tXCAzY/s72-c/aganaktismeni.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-7441783994008341727</id><published>2011-07-09T09:14:00.002+09:30</published><updated>2011-07-15T09:22:02.614+09:30</updated><title type='text'>NIKOS KAVVADIAS IN MELBOURNE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5eVt7vKkY-4/Th-Ap0EK3wI/AAAAAAAAA_w/CBGjmPIGmpk/s1600/kavvadias01_400.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629359515075534594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 283px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5eVt7vKkY-4/Th-Ap0EK3wI/AAAAAAAAA_w/CBGjmPIGmpk/s400/kavvadias01_400.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There is a notation in my father’s year 6 Australian history book of 1961, in which it is proposed that the Yarra River got its name due to a sorry concatenantion of circumstances whereby when the white colonialists sailed from the bay into the River, sundry members of the Wurunjeri people stood at its banks bandishing spears and yelling Warra Warra – which means go away, whereupon the linguistically challenged white imperialists concluded that the said Wurundjeri were a welcoming party and were, out of the kindness of their hearts advising the explorers about to wrest possession of their land from them, as to the name of this principal landmark, which they misheard as Yarra Yarra.&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, this story is not true. The truth of the matter is that the river was called Birrarung by the Wurundjeri people prior to European settlement. It is thought that Birrarung is derived from Wurundjeri words meaning "ever flowing". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The reason for this little historical foray is to outline our ambiguous relationship with the Yarra River. To conceive of Melbourne without it is impossible and yet it is not exactly beloved by Melburnians either. It is a gritty, functional river, with none of the romance or poetics of the Rhine, the Danube or the mystery of the Nile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This then is the river that the peripatetic poet Nikos Kavvadias arrived at in 1951, when he penned his bleak poem Yarra Yarra, after making his way down to the land of the southern cross, having been warned, in his poem, also entitled ‘Southern Cross’, that he should fear the Stars of the South.. However, his Melbourne connection did not end with that poem, a few years later, a young bright eyed youth from Alexandria also called Nikos, obtained his first job as a wireless operator on a ship. Seated at his desk one day and scribbling some verses, the captain asked him: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"What are you doing?"&lt;br /&gt;"I'm writing poetry,"&lt;/em&gt; the boy answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"How funny,"&lt;/em&gt; the captain mused. &lt;em&gt;"Your predecessor and namesake, used to sit in that exact same chair and write poetry."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The predecessor was of course, Nikos Kavvadias, and the youth, Nikos Nomikos, who years later, would find his way up the Yarra to settle in Melbourne, only to become a celebrated Greek poet and artist. It is funny how rivers make things flow together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So who was this Nikos Kavvadias who visited or shores and why did a group of local poets pay tribute to him on 5 June 2011, in a tribute concert at the Melba Hall, Melbourne University, entitled “Amphibian Fate?” The short answer is because he is cool and because they could. Furthermore, we are all pretty chuffed that one of the premier poets of Greece has an Australian connection. The only other Greek literary figure of note to enjoy such a connection is Stratis Tsirkas, who lived in Sydney for five years in the fifties. This year marks the sixtieth anniversary of the visit to the Yarra River of Kavvadias, a poet who confided in our major riparian artery:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I want a boat, oh river, made of cardboard, like those with which students play by the banks of rivers. Tell me, does separation kill? It wounds, it does not kill. Who said we are going to crash? We never even arrived.,”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Profound and totally in keeping with the title of the local poets' event: “Amphibian fate.” Amphibian is a compound word, Amphi- meaning "on both sides" and -bios meaning "life" in Greek. A two sided, torn life is what we celebrate in Nikos Kavvadias, a man who could not bear the land and wanted to be constantly at sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don’t have to be Greek to appreciate the genius of Nikos Kavvadias. He did not consider himself a poet, but rather a traveller, and this comes not only from his style of writing based on personal experiences and emotions reflected on the sea, the weather, the lost cities with their dirty ports, but also by the very limited amount of work he produced, heavily invested with experience. He used his travels around the world as a sailor, and life at sea and its adventures, as powerful metaphors for the escape of ordinary people outside the boundaries of reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unlike many of his contemporary Greek poets who focused on folklore writing of at times nationalist sentiment, Kavvadias wrote both about modern Greece and about the world. He did not seem to distinguish between the two. For him, Greece was never home, because although he was Greek, he was not born there. His writings are characterized by a strong sentiment of universal humanism, a sense of a world united in cosmopolitan places, such as the dirty ports of multinational cities, which became his true home. The poet traveller drew huge inspiration and admiration for Constantine Cavafy, the writer of the masterful pseudo-historical poem Ithaca, who was born in Alexandria to Greek parents but spent most of his life travelling from Egypt to England, and who was the advocate of a universal Hellenistic spirit surpassing beyond the borders of the nation state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Greek community of Melbourne, at least its first generation lived through a similar experiences and share a similar spirit, being uprooted from the boundaries of their reality and being compelled to cross the same seas as Kavvadias, in search of a better life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kavvadias stark evocation of arriving in Melbourne, mirrors that which would have been experienced by all new migrants:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"The lights of Melbourne. The Yarra Yarra flows disinterestedly&lt;br /&gt;Between cargo ships huge and mute,&lt;br /&gt;Towards the bay, without giving two bob,&lt;br /&gt;For the girls kiss, which cost you dear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;The difficult life of the sailor, the daily grind of work, but also the freedom of the eye to travel over new horizons opened by the increasingly longer and bolder voyages he undertook mark Kavvadias' entire poetic output. The poet constantly transforms external observations of the environment into a subdued, internal drama, often of a deeply existential nature. Indeed, critics described him as the 'poet of internal exile', and were not slow to identify in his verse and in his imagery the tendency to displace straight realistic description with scenes of reverse images which represent, in a particularly eloquent manner, the poet's journey from the open seascape into the closed and dimly lit realm of the conscience.Kavvadias was greatly inspired both by Baudelaire and the poetes maudits and observed his marine environment from precisely this viewpoint. His characters frequently descend into apathy, decay, decadence and self-destruction, and the space they inhabit has a suffocating effect on them. Kavvadias also enjoyed the cosmopolitan life (the constant journeying from port to port, country to country, ocean to ocean) which was equated with the pleasures of opportunistic love and the paralysing effects of hallucinatory substances. From these kinds of motifs emerged his overwhelming passion for travel, which he identified as the fate of the absolutely free yet totally defenceless artist.&lt;br /&gt;A poet who as mentioned deliberately wrote little, Kavvadias directly addressed the metrical tradition, but always managed to take liberties with its strictures. He exploited tradition for his own purposes, adapting metres and rhyme schemes to his own linguistic and musical codes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Yarra Yarra all of the aforementioned is on display and is thus a fitting introduction to the poets work:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"When you fell asleep last night, the cape was on watch. You left your amulet at a home a few days ago. You laugh and yet i sold you in Rio for two centavos, and bought you back at a price in Beirut."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Nikos Kavvadias thus is a representative of a poetry of introverted exoticism, which projects the agony and spectres of a permanently restless and wakeful conscience onto alien and often mysterious seascapes.&lt;br /&gt;A committed seaman and writer, he encountered some extremely difficult moments, facing them with the courage that is the preserve of those rare individuals who have absolute faith in what they do. He was in every sense a poet of the sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Hold fast the rigging ladder. Coffee for the pilot.&lt;br /&gt;You turn tail, chained by longing for the land.&lt;br /&gt;And you, who I won in an evening game of chance,&lt;br /&gt;Merge and leave with the smoke of the grey river."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Things rarely turn out the way we want them to. Life is like that.&lt;br /&gt;And Kavvadias life was anything but unexpetional. He was born in Ussuriysk in the Primorsky Krai region of Russia, close to the border with China, part of the historic region of Manchuria. This fact, according to him, linked him emotionally to the Far East, expressed in his short story Li. He returned to his homeland of Cephallonia as a child. After graduating from high school in Piraeus, Kavvadias took the entrance exams to become a doctor in 1928. His father fell sick that same year and young Kavvadias was forced to get a job as an office clerk in a shipping office to help his family. He lasted only a few months there and after his father's death, he went on board the freighter ship "Agios Nikolaos" as a sailor. This is how the poet was born, He worked for a few years on freighter boats, coming back home always wretched and penniless.&lt;br /&gt;Experiences of this nature can either make or break you. While reflecting on the no-nonsense, unromantic Yarra river, tamed in the service of wider causes, Kavvadias probably found a parallel and kindred spirit when he wrote:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I command you with a porphyry shell on my lips.&lt;br /&gt;Your falcon on my arm and the hounds loosed.&lt;br /&gt;Wipe off the sea that drips from me&lt;br /&gt;And teach me to walk on land correctly."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;More vicissitudes would follow. During the German occupation of Greece, he was stranded in Athens. When the war was over in 1944, he embarked and traveled continuously as a radio operator all over the world until November 1974, having the opportunity to get to know the sea and its exotic ports. Through his experiences in the sea he collected material for his poetry. Returning from his last trip and as he was preparing the publication of his third collection of poems, he died suddenly from a stroke on February 10, 1975, after only three months off sea.&lt;br /&gt;Kavvadias poetry was popularized in Greece, partly because some of his poems have been set to music by Thanos Mikroutsikos in his very popular albums Σταυρός του Νότου (Southern Cross) and Γραμμές Ωριζόντων. (Horizons' Lines). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;His first collection of poems, "Marabou", was published in 1933 when Kavvadias was in his early twenties and carries within it the spirit of a romantic young man, impressed with the marvels of the world. Most of these poems tell half-fictitious stories that happened on the sea and the different places he visited. The collection begins with a poem about the catastrophic love for a young wealthy girl that ended up a poor prostitute that he could barely recognise. Other events recount the stories of a Norwegian captain who died homesick watching a ship sailing towards Norway, a dagger carrying the curse that whoever carries it shall kill someone he loves, and an African story-telling sailor who rescued him from a brawl only to die of fever in the Far East. The greek saying “ Η θάλασσα τα τρώει” the sea devours all, applies to hopes and dreams as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Wipe the skin of the snake and give me a handkerchief, he writes in Yarra Yarra&lt;br /&gt;I, who stripped you before old man Titian.&lt;br /&gt;Raise anchor Cephallonian girl and set sail the votive lamp.&lt;br /&gt;The last one sleeps on the Japanese hill&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If guidance is so illusory, upon the sea, then we need the intervention of poets and authors to steer us in the right direction. This can be found in Kavvadias' other two collections: "Pousi" which was published in 1947 and "Traverso" which was published after his death 1975. Another short story, "Of War", published after his death in 1987, recounts the story of his rescue by a local during a storm. The war had a deep effect on him and these later collections are politically motivated, in support of the somewhat more liberal communists. One of these later poems is about the death of Argentinian revolutionary Ernesto (Che) Guevara and was written as an answer to the accusations by some active communists who thought that his poems romanticized too much on the otherwise harsh and dangerous life of sailors, who were potential symbols of class struggle. Another is about the execution of Andalusian poet and writer Federico Garθía Lorca by the Franco dictatorship, other brutal acts done by the Nazi forces occupying Greece during the Second World War.His only novel "Nightshift" was published in 1954 and recounts the stories told by the sailors on their night shift at the ship's bridge. Images from exotic places, prostitutes, captains gone mad and memories of the War blend in to form a dreamy world full of lucid forms, part fictitious, part true. His Story “The Watch” (Η βάρδια) translated by Sorbonne Professor Michel Sonie was included in 1990, in the French newspaper Liberation’s 100 greatest books of all time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition to this material, more recently Guy M. Saunier published The Diary of a Skipper (2005), which contains extracts of intimate travelling experiences and memories written as a prose or poetry in the form of a diary. Originally, this was the first publication of the young Kavvadias published in the journal Peiraikon Vema in January and February 1932. The diary gives us a first glance to his future mythological themes with specific references to the dangerous Indian Ocean, the first trip of the writer to the sailors’ favourite and mysterious Marseille, his life-changing visit to Stromboli the Italian island opposite the volcano Etna, his parents’ home Argostoli the capitol of the Greek island Kefalonia, and other texts, which juxtapose his childhood expectations against the reality and dangers of travelling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In these writings, and later in his poetry, Kavvadias intimately connects his internal feelings of loss of childhood with the external changes of the environment and its modernization, highlighting Modernity’s negative aspects by associating moral corruption to environmental pollution. In the poem entitled Kafar (1933) which is the arabic word for infidel, he wrote:&lt;br /&gt;…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Once the ships were our hidden wish&lt;br /&gt;But now the world is an empty page&lt;br /&gt;It is the same to be in Greece&lt;br /&gt;And travelling to Fernando Po&lt;br /&gt;…&lt;br /&gt;The poles became to us familiar&lt;br /&gt;We admired numerous times the northern Selas&lt;br /&gt;And the ice is covered for years now&lt;br /&gt;With empty cans of Spanish sardines&lt;br /&gt;…&lt;br /&gt;The Japanese, the girl in Chile&lt;br /&gt;And the black Moroccan girls selling honey&lt;br /&gt;Like all women have the same legs&lt;br /&gt;And kiss the same."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;For Kavvadias the juxtaposition of romantic nostalgia to the modern reality is a universal condition of the human being, reflected on his strong sentiment of nostalgia for a ‘home’ that is never there, which painfully stigmatises his work as a whole. The endless journey takes him from the mountains of Switzerland to the immobile seascapes of the equator, as people are different and the same, exotic in their own account but banal in their modern reality. Kavvadias does not seem to move, but rather the world travels around him: “Is it the compass turning, or the ship?” he asks in Kiro Siwa. His journey is static like the seascapes of the equator, as he is trapped in the ship, a metal coffin, which remains immobile in space, letting the globe move around it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kavvadias’ Yarra Yarra is the introspective journey of man with an albatross around his neck, compelled to travel the seas, view the pleasures and despair of mankind and yet never find peace. The Yarra River, rather than capturing him here, caused him only to reflect upon his peripatetic affliction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Oh sweetwater sailor,&lt;br /&gt;You wore a pure white cap when you were young and a wide collar,&lt;br /&gt;It catches you – don’t tell anyone,&lt;br /&gt;Like steel plates catch cats&lt;br /&gt;And you are startled by a sudden wind." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Here one cannot but apply these words to those of his companions who were captured by the Yarra and did not set off for foreign seas again – the Greeks of Melbourne, who despite the Odyssey which forms our founding myth – remained here, being caught like cats in steel plates ( I wonder whether that works for possums too,) being transformed into freshwater sailors, content to abjure their wanderings and settle here, by and around the Yarra, vowing never to leave again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are they content? Or are they just as cursed as Kavvadias, torn between two worlds, unable to find but the most fleeting satisfaction in either?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kavvadias in Yarra Yarra does offer an insight into the complacency of pseudo-satisfaction and contentment:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I bought you a fake cameo in Naples .&lt;br /&gt;And a bleached coral.&lt;br /&gt;Behind the refrigerator on the empty quay.&lt;br /&gt;Ebony, the language of fire, at the centre, crimson."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Significantly, in Lee Kavvadias reflects on his own life telling the girl that he can speak some Cantonese because he was not born in “His La Kwo” (Greece in Chinese) but in Tung Sun Sheung (Manchuria) . In another text from his diary entitled “Argostoli: The Melancholic Capitol of Kefalonia” he further reveals his feelings for his parents’ Greek home as a place without life, “only mountains rising in a threatening and mourning manner”), an experience that is contrasted to the colourful and monotonous at the same time experience of travelling. At times, during his journeys, he might even consider committing suicide, but it is clear that he could not live for a second in the island of Kefalonia. Thus, in his life and poetry, he consciously took the role of a modern Odysseus, the sailor trapped in his inner search for a ‘home’ that is never there, becoming the protagonist in Cavafys imagination for a long gone Ithaca. This kind of textual introverted exoticism is reflected on the experience of static seascapes and cosmopolitan ports, as the Argonaut Kavvadias, in the role of the folklorist ethnographer, absorbs the exotic life surrounding him in his journey to nowhere, until he dies, and stops moving/experiencing.&lt;br /&gt;Kavvadias is the poet of wanderers, or those who have ceased wandering, those who wonder what it is to wander, and being a sailor, certainly of a fish called Wanda. His winters of discontent are turned glorious summer by our homage to him tonight and we are most honoured that he chose our river, to outpour and cause to flow, the ruminations and depths of his soul.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The Amphibian fate tribute concert was therefore a walk in the shadow of genius, one of those rare moments where we mere flaccid mortals, are granted the coveted privilege of being able to touch the tortured divine. If Kavvadias is to teach us anything, it is the majestic solitude and splendid isolation that can be derived from following the wandering star. Happy travelling. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on 25 June 2011, 2 July 2011 and 9 July 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-7441783994008341727?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/7441783994008341727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=7441783994008341727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7441783994008341727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7441783994008341727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/07/nikos-kavvadias-in-melbourne.html' title='NIKOS KAVVADIAS IN MELBOURNE'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5eVt7vKkY-4/Th-Ap0EK3wI/AAAAAAAAA_w/CBGjmPIGmpk/s72-c/kavvadias01_400.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-2745389041016509499</id><published>2011-06-18T14:58:00.000+09:30</published><updated>2011-06-21T15:05:20.300+09:30</updated><title type='text'>AGATHONAS and CO</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d6OMRL3uZ4Q/TgAthag4jmI/AAAAAAAAA_o/IO-wzUbW_CI/s1600/agathonas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620542387034558050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d6OMRL3uZ4Q/TgAthag4jmI/AAAAAAAAA_o/IO-wzUbW_CI/s400/agathonas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I had heard Agathonas before I ever knew who he was. Travelling in my father's car as a young child, my father would play Haris Alexiou's interpretations of rebetika songs. In one of these, where she would relate how she was fed up with life and was going to migrate to America, where she would dwell among the sky-scrapers and drink whisky, her crooning would be interrupted by a terribly masculine and world weary voice proclaiming: «Πάψε τα παλιογινάτια πεισματάρα μου.» Some more strains would follow and an enthusiastic Alexiou would riposte with: «Γεια σου Αγάθωνα, γεια σου πουλάκι μου.» So I had a voice and a name, though I was thoroughly convinced that Agathonas was Alexiou's pet budgerigar. A founding member of the seminal rebetiko group Rebetiko Synkrotima tis Thessalonikis, Agathonas Iakovidis is considered one of the finest proponents of the Rebetiko genre. A self-taught musician proficient in bouzouki, tsoura, mandola, mandolin, guitar and baglama, he is particularly noted for his vocal dexterity and prowess.&lt;br /&gt;Quite apart from his immense musical prowess, Agathonas is significant in another respect. His physical appearance is inordinately arresting. Lean, with a prominent forehead, a rich, drooping moustache and locks of long, thick hair bounding down the sides of his otherwise bald pate, like goats romping down the sides of Mount Gilead, and of course a large aquiline nose, the sounding board whence dulcet sounds issue forth, as well as kindly and piercing, twinkling eyes facilitate a most unmistakeable countenance. Yet slap a beard on the said Agathonas and he could dabble as Greek community stalwart, activist and Karl Marx doppelganger, Christos Tsirkas' brother. I put this to the aforementioned Christos Tsirkas at the recent concert Agathonas gave at the Thornbury Theatre, during his Australian tour. He accepted the comparison without his composure being ruffled and contributed further that in his opinion, Agathonas exactly resembled doyen of academic rebetika studies and erstwhile lecturer in Modern Greek, Professor Stathis Gauntlett. Being already possessed of a similar moustache, Christos Tsirkas theorized, all Stathis Gauntlett would have to do, is grow his hair long in order to perfect the resemblance. Come to think of it, his voice is remarkeably reminiscent to that of Agathonas, both like rebetika and I have never seen then in the same room together. Musician Tony Iliou on the other hand observes that on two separate occasions whilst strolling along Circular Quay after Sunday lunch, sundry Melburnian person's have accosted Agathonas with the greeting: "Hi David," referring to David Crosby of legendary outfit Crosby, Stills and Nash fame. Hmmmm....&lt;br /&gt;Agathonas tour of Australia is exciting not only because of his presence in his own right, or the fact that he brought in his train the amazingly talented, supple and jointless Maria Dikta whose wrist undulations and magical passes as she plays her hand-cymbals are as mesmerizing as her vocal range, but also because with him returned one of the great luminaries of the Australian rebetika scene, violinist Hector Cosmas.&lt;br /&gt;I am unafraid to admit that as a failed violinist, I idolize Hector. In my first year of university, my uncle gifted me Apodimi Compania's CD entitled 'Melisma,' and featuring the Galiatsos brothers, along with Argyris Argyropoulos and the great Hector. I was spellbound, entranced and profoundly moved, all at the same time and set about attempting to master the spells he was casting over his instrument. Sixteen years later, I am still at it.&lt;br /&gt;Hector and his associates can be credited with the creation of a vibrant Rebetiko scene here in Melbourne, centered around the legendary Retreat Hotel. Most importantly, their dedication and virtuosity have propelled Rebetika into the broader Australian musical world as a legitimate and enjoyable genre, open to all. The fact that non-Greek musicians, such as the breath-stoppingly skilled Politiki lyra player Paddy Montgomery are now well entrenched within this scene can in no small part be attributed to the trail blazing work of Hector and other pioneers of the art. Furthermore, Hector is significant, as he has been able to successfully transcend the antipodean divide and establish himself as a highly regarded virtuoso in the more competitive Greek rebetiko scene, where he accompanies the greats, Agathonas included.&lt;br /&gt;What was most moving about Agathonas' performance at the Thornbury theatre, apart from the return from musical prodigality of Hector Cosmas, was the fact that it soon became obvious to all, and indeed to Agathonas, who commented on it, that our own local musicians accompanying our Greek guests are in no way inferior to those of Greece. Indeed, accordion-playing Robert De Niro look-alike George Kyriakidis and the luminous guitarist Tony Iliou, both ubiquitous in the Antipodean music scene, not only proved that they could keep up with Agathonas, but give him a run for his money as well.&lt;br /&gt;The major surprise of the evening was the youthful Fotis Vergopoulos, a master of the bouzouki and possessed of a velveteen voice that slides smoothly and gracefully from his tongue and makes the ear-drum of the listener swoon. The crystal clear clarity of his voice, coupled with the rasping earthiness of that of Agathonas makes for a perfect combination. As an emerging artist, Fotis Vergopoulos, who if he didn't steal the show, made it infinitely more enjoyable, certainly is a man to watch.&lt;br /&gt;What is truly amazing about Agathonas is his self-deprecating humility. After all, the concert was advertised as being about him and yet, he was ever-willing to take a backward step in order to showcase the talents of the Australian members of his team. One could see him mouth to Fotis: "You sing now," nod in encouragement at the musicians, smile at them after having completed a more tortuous section of a song and emerged unscathed and laugh on the few occasions when, owing to the fact that the members of the group had not ever played together, sections were not repeated or suddenly ended.&lt;br /&gt;True rebetika are impromptu, no holds barred, no beg your pardons and totally uncontrived. Agathonas' restrained banter with the audience and the interplay with the members of his group was warm-hearted, genuine and unapologetically, essentially him. As a result, an enormous amount of goodwill was generated, proving that one does not need to book vast venues and arrive here with a multitudinous entourage in order to entertain us. All that is required is respect for the audience, a love of music and the rest will follow. Agathonas' performances in Australia, along with Maria Dikta and Hector Cosmas illustrate this principle perfectly, while also bringing to light Agathonas' uncannily inexhaustible supply of Chuck Norris jokes. What they also illustrate, is that while we hunger for performances by quality Greek artists, we should also, as a community, make a commitment to fostering the development of and supporting our own Greek-Australian artists. They are just as amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 18 June 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-2745389041016509499?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/2745389041016509499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=2745389041016509499' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2745389041016509499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2745389041016509499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/06/agathonas-and-co.html' title='AGATHONAS and CO'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d6OMRL3uZ4Q/TgAthag4jmI/AAAAAAAAA_o/IO-wzUbW_CI/s72-c/agathonas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-8149796562973143321</id><published>2011-06-04T09:19:00.001+09:30</published><updated>2011-06-10T07:52:40.062+09:30</updated><title type='text'>PONTIAN GENOCIDE: RIGHTEOUS MUSLIMS WHO REFUSED TO KILL</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k3cezQNe6cI/TewW3KgeOJI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/SqchrNlSn6o/s1600/image4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 276px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614887972393334930" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k3cezQNe6cI/TewW3KgeOJI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/SqchrNlSn6o/s400/image4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;May marks the anniversary of one of the most heinous crimes of human history – the genocide of the Pontian people by the by the Ottoman Government, directed by a group of leaders known as the Young Turks. It is well established that in the carnage, in which approximately 350,000 Pontic Greeks, 700,000 Assyrians and 1,500,000 Armenians were killed, simply because they happened to be of the ‘wrong’ race, ordinary Ottoman Muslims participated in the loot and tacitly or actively supported the slaughter. Today, an apology or even an acknowledgment of the genocide of the Christian peoples of Anatolia by the Turkish government is not forthcoming, pouring salt into the wounds of the few survivors and their descendants, who, dislocated from their ancestral lands, have had to save their culture piecemeal, as well as deal with inherited traumas induced by the memory of brutality.&lt;br /&gt;Modern day Greek historiography of the event, patchy as it is, tends to focus on the enormity of the crime. However, while it cannot be doubted that there was mass participation in the genocide, with eyewitness and contemporary accounts attesting to hapless Christians being harassed and killed by their muslim neighbours, it has to be remembered that many ordinary Muslims actually helped Christians and many Ottoman administrators refused to follow orders. Mass participation does not necessarily signify universal participation. Many Muslim groups and individuals including army officers and high ranking public officials either refused to participate, refused to carry out orders and/or assisted any Christians to escape certain death.&lt;br /&gt;Most sources on the genocide readily identify Turks, Kurds, Lazes and Circassians as participants to the massacres of the Chrstians. To this the Persians who attacked Armenians and Assyrians in Salmas and Ourmiah should be added, as well as the Georgian Muslims who were also privy to mass killing of Armenians and Greeks in Ottoman Empire.&lt;br /&gt;Taner Akçam’s narrative concerning Hadji Halil of Urfa who housed seven people of the same family in his attic to save them from the massacres illustrates the humanity of many Ottoman muslims. Hadji Halil promised his Armenian friend that he would protect his family in the event of calamity. Hadji Halil kept his promise and housed the family for months. Hadji Halil had to overcome logistical problems including how to buy food for seven extra people without raising suspicion. There exist many other similar stories.&lt;br /&gt;Many unnamed individuals helped their neighbours to escape. For instance, one Pontian genocide survivor would show interested parties ‘scars’ he carried from that period of his life. Tattoos on his right arm depicted an Arab knife and the Islamic crescent. There were done by local Muslims to disguise Christians as Muslims in order to save them.&lt;br /&gt;There were also such groups as the Mevlevi order in Konya and the people of Dersim, who helped Christians and while many Kurdish tribes carried out the Pontian genocide, others helped Christians by hiding them. For example, in Dersim 20,000 Armenians and Greeks were saved because of Kurdish efforts. In Ras-ul-Ain, while some Chechens attacked Christians, other Chechens “saved around 400 to 500” deportees and the Jabbur Arabs sheltered many of these.&lt;br /&gt;Professor Selim Deringil in his research mentions situations where Christian children were adopted into Muslim families in order to save them, despite the government issuing an order against this. He has also compiled evidence of functionaries who did not obey orders and who for obvious reasons are overlooked in the official narrative in Turkey. For instance, the governor of Konya, Celal Bey, did not permit the Konya Christians to be deported because he knew what would have happened to them if they were sent to the deserts of Deir Zor. Where possible he also tried to prevent Christians from other places to be sent to the deserts. He was removed from his post in October 1915 but he had already saved many lives. He remained unemployed until 1919. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Other examples include, the Governor of Ankara Hasan Mazhar, who was removed from his post for refusing to deport Christians in the August of 1915, the Mutasarrıf of Kütahya Faik Ali Bey, who refused to deport about 2,000 Christians, (later he became permanent undersecretary of the Ministry of the Interior of the Republic) and the mayor of Malatya Mustafa Ağa Azizoğlu. Malatya was a transit place for those who were deported from the Eastern provinces. The mayor did not have authority to prevent deportation but saved people in his house by providing refuge. A true humanitarian, he was tragically killed by his son, a member of Union and Progress, for &lt;em&gt;“looking after infidels”.&lt;/em&gt; To this list Reşit, Vali of Kastamonu in Pontus, who was also dismissed for not complying with the extermination campaign and the Mutassarıf of Yozgat, Cemal Bey, should also be added. Last, but not least, Tahsin Bey, Vali of Erzurum should also be remembered as one of the heroes who defied orders, thus saving hundreds of Pontians and ArmeniansIn refusing to follow orders, the governor of Ankara, Hasan Mazhar Bey, , had reportedly said &lt;em&gt;“I am a Vali not a bandit. I cannot do this. Another person may come and sit in my chair. They can do it”.&lt;/em&gt; Accordingly, he was removed from office in the August of 1915.&lt;br /&gt;When the tehcir (deportation) orders were issued in Kütahya, Faik Ali Bey refused to implement them. Because of his insubordination, he was summoned to Istanbul. The Kütahya Police Chief, taking advantage of Faik Ali Bey’s absence, called Christian notables of the city to a meeting in which he asked them to convert to Islam, or else, face deportation. The Kütahya Christians decided to apply for conversion to Islam en masse. When Faik Ali Bey returned from Istanbul, he was enraged. He removed the police chief from his post and asked the Christians to tear apart the collective application for conversion to Islam, saying :&lt;em&gt;“till today Kütahya Turks have never participated in any atrocities against the Christians, and will not participate tomorrow either.”&lt;/em&gt; Ali Fuat Ender, during the period when he was the Commander of the Fourth Army, wrote that “a telegram arrived from the Provincial Administration of Aleppo: &lt;em&gt;‘Today the bandits Halil and Ahmet Beys visited me, they told me that the business of the killings in Diyarbakır were completed and now they came to do the same in Syria. I arrested them.”&lt;/em&gt; Celal Bey, governor of Aleppo made strenuous efforts to save the Christians in his jurisdiction. When he did so, the Ottoman administration created an autonomous sandjak (in Marash, independent from the Province of Aleppo, thereby truncating Celal Bey’s authority. Celal Bey admitted that originally he believed that the deportations were an internal and temporary measure necessitated by the War. He could not believe that the government would take such measures to actually destroy its own citizens. In any case, as he did not believe any Christian in Aleppo committed an act which would necessitate their exile, he refused to implement the deportation orders. As a consequence, he was removed from his post and transferred to the position of Vali in Konya. The misery he witnessed in Konya caused him to liken himself to &lt;em&gt;“a person sitting by the side of a river, with absolute no means of saving anyone. Blood was flowing in the river and thousands of innocent children, irreproachable old people, helpless women, strong young men, were streaming down this river towards oblivion. Anyone I could save with my bare hands I saved, and the others, I think they streamed down the river never to return.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;In his memoirs Celal Bey also made the following observations to state that the Turks and the Muslims have only been used as tools [by the government]:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;1) When I was in Aleppo I saw with my own eyes Muslim helping the Christians who were deported there.&lt;br /&gt;2) Some farm owners came to me and told me that they wanted to house Christians in their properties.&lt;br /&gt;3) Both in Aleppo and in Konya, many members of the ulema (Muslim clerical council)and the notables thanked me many times for my treatment of the Christians and that protecting them was required by the Sharia.&lt;br /&gt;4) Both in Konya and in Aleppo, I have not seen or heard of any Turk usurping Christian property.&lt;br /&gt;5) Among the Turks and the Muslims I met no one who supported these murders and who did not find them shameful.&lt;br /&gt;6) After I returned from Konya many of my acquaintances congratulated me and that they told me it was more honourable to leave my posting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Many other high ranking officials have paid with their lives for disobeying orders. As well as being responsible for massacres against the Pontians, Armenians and Assyrians, Dr Reşit Şahingiray, the governor of the Province of Diyarbakır, was alleged to have murdered a number of Turkish officials who refused to carry out his orders: &lt;em&gt;“Vali of Basra Ferit, Mutasarrıf of Müntefek, Bedii Nuri, Kaymakam of Lice Hüseyin, Deputy Kaymakam of BeşiriSabit, journalist İsmail Mestan; all socialists and/or humanists”&lt;/em&gt;. Dr Reşit also tried to assassinate the Mutasarrıf of Mardin, Hilmi Bey, who was removed from office. His successor Shefik Bey was also removed for not following orders.&lt;br /&gt;The Dominican priest Marie-Dominique Berré in his comprehensive report on the Massacres in Mardin notes that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“[t]owards the middle of May 1915, Doctor Raschid [Reşit] Bey, vali of Diarbékir, sent to Mutasarrif of Mardin, Hilmi Bey, the order to imprison all Christian notables of that city. Hilmi Bey responded by this telegram, the authenticity of which I guarantee: ‘I am not a man without conscience; I have nothing against the Christians of Mardin; I will not execute these orders.’ A few days later Hilmi Bey was discharged.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another Dominican source identifies an army officer, Saudki Bey, who helped Christians escape certain death. &lt;em&gt;“In Urfa “Don Jean, leader of the Syrian community escaped death only by the intervention of major Saudki Bey, who removed his name from the list of Christians who were to be arrested and put to death. This Sauki Bey had a great sympathy for the Christians . He also informed Deir Wartan, the leader of the Armenian Catholic Community, to run away to Aleppo.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;The Christian nations that fell victim to the heinous tragedy that was the Genocide of Anatolian Christians must make efforts to further research the laudable acts of those Muslim humanitarians that risked their reputation, social standing, careers and their lives so as not to take part in the depravity of the genocide. By seeking out their descendants, acknowledging them and thanking them, the discourse of the genocide can move from an adversarial one, where the primary focus is centered upon compelling the perpetrators to apologize, to a resolution whereby the presence of dissenters within the perpetrating nation obviates the need for an apology. This type of resolution removes political considerations from the issue of Genocide denial and instead focuses on the humanitarian aspect, emphasizing the importance of people who refuse to follow orders, refuse to harm others for the sake of conformity but, transcending ethnic and religious boundaries, are able to take a principled stand against the acts of their own people. If their deeds were better known, it would be exceedingly more difficult for perpetrators to perpetuate the charade that there was no genocide. Why then, was the sacrifice of these brave people made necessary.&lt;br /&gt;Ayhan Aktar expresses that &lt;em&gt;“I feel proud of having born in the same country as these people and I respectfully bow to their precious memory.”&lt;/em&gt; When we remember the slain, we should feel humbled and moved at the sacrifice of the righteous Muslims who assisted Christians to escape slaughter. Jesus’ words, central to the Christian teaching, that “Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends," compels the Orthodox Church, as well as the Greek state to erect a monument to these most brave people, whose example is a beacon of humanity in a region riven by religious and ethnic strife. Their memory should give their descendants pause to reflect and resolve that their future, should abound in peace, tolerance and respect. Their righteous ancestors can show them how this can be done. Αιωνία τους η μνήμη.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 4 June 2011 and 11 June 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Please note: the above article is based primarily on the research and writings of Dr Racho Donef, who the author thanks profusely.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-8149796562973143321?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/8149796562973143321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=8149796562973143321' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/8149796562973143321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/8149796562973143321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/04/pontian-genocide-righteous-muslims-who.html' title='PONTIAN GENOCIDE: RIGHTEOUS MUSLIMS WHO REFUSED TO KILL'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k3cezQNe6cI/TewW3KgeOJI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/SqchrNlSn6o/s72-c/image4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-5642813021357161399</id><published>2011-05-28T09:15:00.001+09:30</published><updated>2011-06-06T09:19:42.066+09:30</updated><title type='text'>JUNKETS, INSOLVENCY and the BATTLE OF CRETE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6jwfnFQlTeI/TewV94OscBI/AAAAAAAAA_I/eyFq8g0unLw/s1600/DSC-093.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614886988234387474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6jwfnFQlTeI/TewV94OscBI/AAAAAAAAA_I/eyFq8g0unLw/s400/DSC-093.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Μεγαλοψυχία, a Greek compound word literally meaning greatness of soul, translates as generosity or magnanimity. For Φιλότιμο, also a compound word literally meaning love of honour, no proper translation can capture the connotations of mutual assistance, willingness to help, provide succour and otherwise act in an honourable way for the benefit of one's neighbor, that the term connotes. Both of these qualities, highly prized by the Greeks existed in large quantities among the valiant Cretans who not only fought alongside Australian troops during the Battle of Crete, but also risked their lives and those of their loved ones to hide Australian and other Allied troops when the Battle was lost and the Nazi occupation commenced.&lt;br /&gt;Crete was seen by the Allies as an important bulwark in their Mediterranean strategy. Furthermore, new research by Maria Hill in her ground-breaking book: "Diggers and Greeks," suggests that Britain may have deliberately provoked Germany into invading Greece, as a way of coercing Turkey, who would have felt insecure at such an invasion close to her borders, into entering the war on the side of the Allies. Considering the devastation and loss of life that such a cynical exercise in realpolitik caused, the after effects of which are felt to the present day among survivors who still nurse traumas, the prospect that this hypothesis has basis in fact is a sickening one.&lt;br /&gt;The Battle of Crete and the war in Greece is significant for Australian military history in a number of respects and yet how many Australians know that:&lt;br /&gt;83% of the Australian soldiers captured by the Italians and Germans came from the Greek and Crete campaigns?&lt;br /&gt;The Australians who fought on the Greek mainland were the only 'Anzac corps' to fight in World War Two?&lt;br /&gt;The campaign in Greece is regarded as the 'Second Gallipoli', yet is rarely discussed and often ignored?&lt;br /&gt;The Diggers who fought in Greece and Crete were never issued with a campaign medal by Australia ?&lt;br /&gt;The soldiers were forbidden for many years to wear the medal issued to them by the Greek government on Anzac Day?&lt;br /&gt;The Australians in Crete endured some of the worst aerial bombardment of World War Two, causing many to suffer from war neurosis or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?&lt;br /&gt;The relationship they developed with the Greek people during the war, saved over one thousand Australian lives?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'It has always annoyed me that we never got an Australian medal for Greece and Crete or a European medal, but the New Zealanders got it but for fighting in Italy, not for fighting in Greece&lt;/em&gt;' Keith Hooper of the 2/6th Australian Infantry Battalion opines, &lt;em&gt;'I always felt you don't find much about Greece and Crete in many histories and I always felt that the British were a bit ashamed of that campaign.'&lt;/em&gt; No wonder, given the disaster of the Greek campaign where Australian troops were deployed on a suicidal mission or the debacle of Crete, a campaign that should have been won by the allies but instead resulted in the capture of most of the Australian forces at Rethymnon. The Greeks of Crete paid a heavy price for resisting the Germans, complying with Allied plans and hiding Australian soldiers. The razing of Kandanos, where an entire village was destroyed and all its inhabitants massacred, along with the massacre of the entire male population of Kondmari by the Nazi's are indicative of the fate of the lion-hearted Greeks who sacrificed everything to fight alongside and protect Australian soldiers, guest in their land.&lt;br /&gt;It is for this reason that the Herald Sun's characterization of the cross-party trip, led by Upper House president Bruce Atkinson and organised by member of parliament John Pandazopoulos to Greece, including a four-day tour of Anzac war graves from the World War II campaign at a time where only gradually is the Australian military recognising the importance of the Cretan campaign. (Federal Minister for Veterans' Affairs Warren Snowdon points out that: "There are more than 40 Commonwealth grave sites in Greece but it is a largely forgotten part of the war.") as one where: "The bankrupt Greek Government has played host to a gaggle of junketing state MPs," is particularly hurtful, and disrespectful.&lt;br /&gt;The Greek government is not bankrupt. And even if it is, does that disqualify it from honouring and welcoming the representatives of a country whose soldiers fought so valiantly for its freedom? If anything, the Greek government should be commended, not vilified and subjected to ridicule for allocating sorely needed funds towards honouring Australians representing their government. The Greek people, both in Australia and Greece itself, would never take the approach of sections of the Australian media and ignore or make light of the contribution of Australian soldiers to our country. This is because μεγαλοψυχία and φιλότιμο are concepts that are still revered. We will never forget the Australian contribution to the defence of our freedom. In parallel, we will also never forget the price our people paid for that contribution. It is a price that demands respect and cannot be reduced to a dollar value. Certainly, if honouring Australian soldiers and the Greeks who gave up their lives to protect them is deemed to be a junket by Herald Sun journalists then we thank them for letting us know. The Greek-Australian community is grateful to the Herald Sun for implying that Greece is not a country that Victorian MP's should bother visiting, despite the existence of a large Greek community in their state, simply because in their estimation, Greece simply is not possessed of the requisite funds to qualify in their estimations, as a country worth having relations with. It is useful to know where one stands.&lt;br /&gt;For the Diatribist, it is immaterial whether most Australians do not acknowledge or care about the sacrifices and suffering of ordinary Greeks in defence of their valiant Australian friends in Greece. Nor is it material that the revering of Gallipoli does acknowledge that 15,000 Greeks were ethnically cleansed from the villages of that peninsula by the Ottomans, so that it could be fortified against the ANZAC's, nor indeed that enough evidence now exists to suggest that the ANZAC landing at Gallipoli may have been the catalyst for the most brutal and deadly bout of the genocide of the Christian people of Anatolia. Regardless of the ingratitude, insensitivity and possibly blatant racism that attitudes of disrespect may betray, one is secure in the knowledge that the Greek people will never forgert, or cease to appreciate and honour those friends who stood up for their country in its time of need and will welcome them always with open arms. This is the reason why so many Australian veterans are drawn to Crete year after year. The bonds forged with its people, in blood, battle and friendship can never be sundered by the obtuseness of the unenlightened. We, an ancient nation that has endured immense hardships but has also given our friends such concepts as democracy, aesthetics and civic duty, does not need to say: Lest we forget. We never do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 28 May 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-5642813021357161399?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/5642813021357161399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=5642813021357161399' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/5642813021357161399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/5642813021357161399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/05/junkets-insolvency-and-battle-of-crete.html' title='JUNKETS, INSOLVENCY and the BATTLE OF CRETE'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6jwfnFQlTeI/TewV94OscBI/AAAAAAAAA_I/eyFq8g0unLw/s72-c/DSC-093.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-650726239030213147</id><published>2011-05-21T09:31:00.001+09:30</published><updated>2011-05-25T09:35:12.107+09:30</updated><title type='text'>SOUTHERN SUN: AEGEAN LIGHT</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FCBBg4kXFLc/TdxHieTAzhI/AAAAAAAAA-8/NcDtlgKuTQQ/s1600/b10000000223b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610437893370727954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 196px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FCBBg4kXFLc/TdxHieTAzhI/AAAAAAAAA-8/NcDtlgKuTQQ/s400/b10000000223b.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"We fear however that&lt;br /&gt;one day we will be "discovered"&lt;br /&gt;by those who shunned us&lt;br /&gt;may God not let us live to see that day."&lt;/em&gt; ('The Philosophers,' Νick Trakakis)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Philosopher, theologian, poet and all round good, oozing with positivity guy Nick Trakakis, with whom I have had the honour of co-habiting this page from time to time, is the author of the realization of his own fears. For, through his meticulous labours and scholarly discretion, has managing to ferret out of the dank fens of our community, a large quantity of quality Australian born Greek-Australian poets.&lt;br /&gt;With a few notable exceptions, the Australian-born Greek Australian poet is a timid creature. Not for him the razzamatazz, trumpets, glitz and glamour of the Sunday book-launch, accompanied by homemade cakes and mutual back-slapping, or the casual appearance of their poems on the correspondence pages of the Greek language counterpart of this august publication. No, the Australian-born Greek-Australian poet is made of humbler, more stoical, reclusive and yet sterner stuff, preferring to dwell, feed and procreate verse on the fringes of the organized Greek community, passing largely unnoticed by the more mammoth organisms that comprise the genus. In fact, should you have the rare privilege of inadvertently coming across a Greek-Australian poet, ensconced in the local library, at a local pub poetry reading, or seated at their workplace, furtively scribbling verse behind their computer screen, quaking in fear lest their boss or their workmates discover their perversion, you need to be considerate and careful, lest they scurry away into the obscurity they have grown so used to. Feeding them makes them less timid, but has the tendency to encourage them to be garrulous, especially with regards to poetry, whereupon the unique ritual, often mistaken for a mating ritual among some of the males of the sub-species of the genus, of commencing all sentiences with the word 'I,' takes place. This is generally to be avoided. Australian-born Greek-Australian poets tend to thrive in captivity and enclosed spaces generally and some display arrested development after too much preening, encouragement and uncritical admiration by those who own them as pets. The jury is out as to whether they display the tendency of biting the hand the feeds them, though some authorities hold that those that are taken care of in the wintertime, tend to emerge ready to bite their victims, in the summer.&lt;br /&gt;It is for this reason that the recent publication and presentation of a landmark anthology of the best of the poetry of Australian born Greek-Australian poets, under the discerning editorship of Nick Trakakis is a historical event for the Greek community. As Helen Nickas pointed out at the Melbourne launch of "Southern Sun: Aegean Light," with all the title's attendant similes and references to Ozone layers, harshness etc, the anthology proves once and for all that Greek-Australian literature (just like Greek-Australians) cannot be stereotyped or categorized, presenting instead, a wide range of styles, inspirations and influences, each of which may touch on aspects of the Greek identity in novel ways. In particular, because it has emerged from obscurity and not overshadowed by the dictates and tastes of Greek language Greek-Australian poetry which at one end of the scale invariably rhymes and deals with the loss of the homeland or social injustice and at the other end, is more modernist and deals with a range of subjects, mostly influenced by modern Greek literature, it must be classified as Australian poetry, and form a niche within it. After all, if one writes in English, then stylistically, and contextually, much of what has been read before in that language will influence the consequent literary output.&lt;br /&gt;Ross King, way back in 1979, when writing about Greek literature predicted that:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"...grandchildren will have some chance of standing back and reconsidering and some will write. (Introspection comes later in a cultural experience.) Uncle Blasos or grandpa will seem jolly and amusing in the distance. There will be antipodean. jokes. But the richest experiences, which are occurring now, are likely to remain uncommunicated."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;He was of course totally wrong in this, given the vast output of first generation literature. However, he was right in hinting that the literature of the English speaking generation will more likely be about their own experience and search for an identity rather than that of their parents.&lt;br /&gt;With some of the more intellectual poets, an examination of the Greek identity may be in the form of reinterpreting texts, especially philosophical or historical that the West has deemed to form part of the Greek identity. The fact that they influence the poetry of Australian born Greek-Australians indicates that a Greek identity or influence is not only constructed by what is passed down from those who have had direct communication with the motherland, but also through books written about that motherland - in English.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, a consciousness of that identity does not mean that aspects of that identity must be recorded in a faithful way. After all, one's own vision is purely subjective. It may be displayed in haunting, evocative verse that reflects upon pastimes such as lace-making, in the poetry of Angela Costi, or in the phonetically incorrect recording of Greek songs, showing that what is understood today by the first generation as a Greek identity, will survive in half whispered and understood fragments in the future, much as the great Antipodean poet Cavafy had predicted. The process of this taking place is enshrined in "Southern Sun: Aegean Light," making it all the more valuable a collection.&lt;br /&gt;Literary greats such as Tom Petsinis, rub shoulders with lesser known poets in the collection, yet all the poems have something valuable to say. Furthermore, proving that Australian born Greek-Australian poets are a diverse and quirky bunch, there do appear poets within the collection who choose to write mainly in Greek, Dr Christos Galiotos and yours truly, though as I remarked at the launch, I do so mainly in order to inhabit a righteous and harmonious realm beyond the ravages of literary criticism, with questionable results.&lt;br /&gt;Given that Greek literary endeavours in Australia are usually driven by the first generation, it is questionable how long it would have taken those interested to display the depth of sensitivity and dedication that made "Southern Sun: Aegean Light," possible. The fact that this endeavour stems from the second generation which is now seeking not only to create but to define and examine itself is an immense and consoling achievement and Nick Trakakis truly deserves our gratitude. It is hoped that the publication of the anthology will inspire deep research into the literary output of the Australian-born generations of our community, for their work is highly crafted and truly inspirational.&lt;br /&gt;Occupying a place between the highly indentified Greeks of the first generation, and those of the latter, more assimilated generation, the poets of the collection show both how umbilical cords can be broken slowly, and what remains. As one of my favourite poets, also in the collection, Peter Lyssiotis reminisces:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The last word my mother spoke&lt;br /&gt;left a small black hole&lt;br /&gt;in the air outside the kitchen&lt;br /&gt;window,&lt;br /&gt;just above the lemon tree -&lt;br /&gt;it's still there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brilliant.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 21 May 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-650726239030213147?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/650726239030213147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=650726239030213147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/650726239030213147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/650726239030213147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/05/southern-sun-aegean-light.html' title='SOUTHERN SUN: AEGEAN LIGHT'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FCBBg4kXFLc/TdxHieTAzhI/AAAAAAAAA-8/NcDtlgKuTQQ/s72-c/b10000000223b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-7618905613562470111</id><published>2011-05-14T09:04:00.000+09:30</published><updated>2011-05-16T09:08:28.034+09:30</updated><title type='text'>IN SEARCH OF SALVATION</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TCZJGBpIc_o/TdBjxsGhzoI/AAAAAAAAA-s/wSxKcv_UoPg/s1600/221877_180820128633666_167218833327129_400325_80383_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607091241379548802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 163px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TCZJGBpIc_o/TdBjxsGhzoI/AAAAAAAAA-s/wSxKcv_UoPg/s400/221877_180820128633666_167218833327129_400325_80383_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Are you serious? Do you really think that you can create a grass-roots movement here in Australia, that will cross the Indian Ocean and inspire the apathetic Greeks to bring about constitutional change in Greece? You must be joking. You don't even live there. Who are you to dictate how Greece should be run?"&lt;/em&gt; The scene was a coffee shop on Lonsdale Street some years ago, where two friends were arguing about whether an organization could be formed in Melbourne that could extricate Greece from the latest of the quagmires it has the tendency to ooze into. My idealistic friend did attempt to form an organization, only to abandon it later on, curding the apathy of the first generation and their utilization of the organization as a vehicle to convey their own personal agendas.&lt;br /&gt;In the deepest darkest days faced by the Greek nation, whether ancient or modern, crisis and catastrophes befalling the motherland have not only affected those unfortunate enough at that time to be residing within it, but also those many Greeks who have sought an alternative place of residence, at least psychologically. From times ancient, these Greeks have sought to assist, bail out or otherwise come to the aid of the motherland in her time of need, whether that be by providing money, in the case of the Italian colonies in ancient times, or towards the close of the Byzantine era, by attempting to glamourise Greek civilization in the hope that this will cause admiring Westerners to seek to preserve that culture by providing valuable aid against the incursions of the Turks.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps the most successful effort of Greeks abroad to influence events in their home land would have to be the Philiki Etaireia, which, supported by some of the most affluent, powerful and outstanding Greeks of the day, provoked, funded, guided and carried on the Greek Revolution. Brilliantly, they did so through a means of trickery and deceit - extracting moneys and recruiting members to their cause by lying about the illusory support they had obtained from world powers and over-stating their power, influence and preparedness. As the great George Costanza advised Jerry Seinfeld: &lt;em&gt;"It is not a lie, if you believe it."&lt;/em&gt; The members of the Etaireia did believe their own lies and the freedom of Greece is the ultimate tribute to their self delusion. One of the lasting effects of the Philiki Etaireia's achievement ever since, would have to be an over-inflated belief in the importance and potency of Greek communities abroad.&lt;br /&gt;This belief usually is linked to the magnitude of the Greek community in a given country. It was believed that given the size of the US Greek community, its "Hellenic lobby," should be powerful and influential and Greeks scratched their heads in wonderment, as to why this vast and affluent community displayed a marked inability to intercede with the U.S government in Greece's favour.&lt;br /&gt;These days, Greece is once more facing tough times and it was not without interest that I noticed a talk planned by the recently established "Hellenic Democratic Initiative," entitled: "Greece in Crisis: Dealing with Corruption and the International Monetary Fund (IMF) in 2011. Where to from here?" This was intriguing, and I am sorry I did not attend the talk, for any solution to Greece's current crisis would be most welcome. Even more intriguing are the aims of this local salvationary organisation, created in October 2010. These lofty aims are to:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Advance participatory democracy, transparency, social justice and the adoption of the rule of law in Greece;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;2. Unify, motivate, encourage and mobilize the global democratic forces of Hellenism;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;3. Help combat corruption, nepotism, human rights abuses, clientelism and environmental damage.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;4. Engage civil society and undertake direct initiatives to help promote Hellenic interests and deal with challenges imposed by globalization;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;5. Encourage political activism and establish an open socio-political dialogue that will identify and address issues affecting Greece, Hellenism and global society;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;6. Formulate an ecumenical, patriotic, social alliance that will articulate a new ethos and will create the necessary consents and momentum required to enhance the aspirations of Hellenism in the 21st century; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;7. Establish a truly representative and participatory democracy that will encourage civil discourse and citizen participation and will provide citizens with means of checking and balancing governmental authority and power.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Truly these aims are inspirational and we should admire the founders for having the sensitivity and insight to propound them. They truly are aims to aspire to, though one would question whether their conception of &lt;em&gt;"Hellenic interests"&lt;/em&gt; would coincide with those of a Greek government, persons of Greek heritage, or the very large amount of non-Greek peoples who currently reside in Greece and make valuable contributions to its society and economy. Ascertaining the reason why and the method by which far-flung Melburnians may determine what is in fact a Greek interest, would be most illuminating. Similarly, how one arrives at a determination of the "aspirations" of Hellenism in the twenty first century would also be interesting.&lt;br /&gt;Many of the aims of the concerned Hellenes who wish to save their homeland may border on empty platitudes, (how can one from Melbourne form the 'ecumenical' patriotic and social alliance -especially when Greeks live in socially diverse communities around the world) in order to enhance such aspirations? How will they, from Melbourne, encourage political activism in a society that is, if anything, too politically active? How will Melbournians teach their compatriots about a system of checks and balances? Are they not being condescending in assuming that the Greeks of Greece are not capable of bringing about such changes or desiring them if they truly wanted to?&lt;br /&gt;The exposition of lofty ideals such as those expressed by our friends of the Hellenic Democratic Initiative (and why pray tell is the 'Democratic' aspect of the endeavour so intrinsic to the Grand Restoration that is hoped for, that it must be highlighted so starkly?) remind one of do-gooder Robin Hood's statement of intent in that work of classic drama "Robin Hood: Men in Tights:" &lt;em&gt;"I vow to put an end to the injustice. Right the Wrongs, End the tyranny, Restore the throne, Protect the forest, Introduce folk dancing, Demand a four-day work-week and health care for Saxons and Normans.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;These too are noble causes and we can all dream of bringing them to fruition. In actual fact, none of us need fear. In the aptly titled Dodecalogue of the Gypsy, an epic poem by Kostis Palamas about the fall of Greece, he states: &lt;em&gt;«και μην έχοντας πιο κάτου άλλο σκαλί/ να κατρακυλήσεις πιο βαθιά/ στου Κακού τη σκάλα,/ για τ' ανέβασμα ξανά που σε καλεί/ θα αιστανθείς να σου φυτρώσουν, ω χαρά!/ Τα φτερά,/ τα φτερά τα πρωτινά σου τα μεγάλα!»&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;just wait for the Greeks abroad to flap their chicken wings. Σωθήκαμε!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday, 14 May 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-7618905613562470111?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/7618905613562470111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=7618905613562470111' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7618905613562470111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7618905613562470111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/05/in-search-of-salvation.html' title='IN SEARCH OF SALVATION'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TCZJGBpIc_o/TdBjxsGhzoI/AAAAAAAAA-s/wSxKcv_UoPg/s72-c/221877_180820128633666_167218833327129_400325_80383_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-5382684317728898099</id><published>2011-05-07T09:08:00.001+09:30</published><updated>2011-05-16T09:10:45.673+09:30</updated><title type='text'>THE TOWER BEGINS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OkbY3FaCxrA/TdBkav8oS4I/AAAAAAAAA-0/YnHpGJJ9kTI/s1600/gocmvbld2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607091946786409346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OkbY3FaCxrA/TdBkav8oS4I/AAAAAAAAA-0/YnHpGJJ9kTI/s400/gocmvbld2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Big Ted surveyed the room with a wide sweeping, but penetrating gaze, as if he was peering directly through his audience and off into the future. &lt;em&gt;“I want to pay tribute to those people whose names are listed on the wall. It was their ambition and vision that has led us to this day. They built for the future.”&lt;/em&gt; The August Premier was of course, referring to the past presidents of the Greek Orthodox Community of Melbourne and Victoria and as he mentioned the fact that the aforementioned organisation is one hundred and ten years old, and is thus, one of the oldest Victorian institutions, a shudder of excitement passed through the audience. Ted Baillieu’s subsequent remark, that the Greek community of Victoria has its origins in the Goldfields and that there would be not a few Greeks today who would relish the opportunity to go gold prospecting largely went unnoticed by the adoring crowd, though it was apt, hinting at one of the guiding ideologies behind our community.&lt;br /&gt;The occasion of the Premier’s speech a week or so ago, was the Victorian government’s announcement that it would provide the GOCMV with the sum of two million dollars for the construction of the Hellenic Cultural Centre on the site of its current building – a project that has both inspired and caused controversy among sections of our community. Ted Baillieu took particular pains to extract from GOCMV president Bill Papastergiadis, an undertaking that the current antiquated lift, whose arrival is always uncertain (rumour has it that bearded and stunted deposed GOCMV board members are exiled in the liftwell and raise and lower the lift by an intricate system of pulleys), shall be retained in the new Cultural Centre, for historical purposes. I should like to obtain a similar undertaking with regard to the period wood panelling that adorns the foyer of the building. As a throwback to the eighties, it is truly sublime.&lt;br /&gt;Ted Baillieu also repeatedly and pointedly stressed his desire that the new edifice be constructed “sooner, rather than later.” He stated this in the same breath as his assertion that the Greek community serves as a model to others. And as opposed to the usual tribute talk we have come to expect from various politicians, one gained the distinct impression that Ted Baillieu meant every word he said. Through his words, and the very act of funding the Centre, it is evident that the Greek community has come of age. We are both partners and stakeholders in the state’s commitment to constructing a multicultural society and the provision of such a large amount of funds makes us an instrument in furthering that commitment, simply because our manifold activities and vibrant presence in this state have proven that we are more than capable of doing so. Ted Baillieu’s official announcement was thus a great and proud day for the Greek community.&lt;br /&gt;It was also a great and proud day for Bill Papastergiadis, GOCMV president, who in his short time at the helm of our most ancient organisation has guided it safely through the shoals of discord and seen it rise in the esteem of the broader community and the state and who has imbued within it, a sense of optimism and vision. Ted Baillieu’s panegyric to founding fathers possessed of vision and who built for the future applies equally to Bill Papastergiadis and it was thus fitting that such a panegyric was delivered in his presence given that unlike those founding fathers, he belongs to the second generation – a generation that for the most part has not been able to find a successful or viable foothold within the framework of Greek community politics. His achievement proves that a committed second generation, adept at navigating seamlessly between the Greek and English speaking communities, can glean from these the opportunities and privileges to be enjoyed from both and use these for the greater benefit of all. It is hoped that his sterling work in gaining the esteem of the mainstream and injecting impetus and a sense of mission back into the GOCMV will convince other aspiring second generation and third generation Greek-Australians that the Greek community is not a mere quagmire of internecine strife and navel-gazers but rather, an inspiring and endless field of collective action, that is multi-faceted and inclusive enough to cater for a multiplicity of interests and concerns. Similarly, it is hoped that Bill Papastergiadis’ and his board members’ efforts will convince the first generation that the emancipation of the second generation is well overdue. After all, it is supposedly largely for their benefit that the Cultural Centre has been conceived in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;The official announcement of the Baillieu government’s two million dollar contribution to the erection of the Cultural Centre is also a clarion call and rallying cry for further action. Having the resources of the government behind us and the Premier’s &lt;em&gt;“sooner rather than later”&lt;/em&gt; injunction ringing in our ears, we are now committed to the speedy construction of the Centre. There is absolutely no further room for prevarication, debate or even focus on other unnecessary and divisive interests and pursuits. Victoria expects us to keep our word and as a united community we need to invest all our energy and resources into ensuring that this project is effected. For if it is not, the loss of credibility that will befall our community, will be tantamount to catastrophe and it would be unlikely, in that eventuality, whether we would be entrusted with government support to a similar extent, ever again.&lt;br /&gt;Whether one agrees with the construction of the Centre or not (and the members of the GOCMV overwhelmingly have shown that they do,) it cannot be denied that the Baillieu government’s announcement marks an important watershed in our history, a towering achievement even before the Tower that will, with the right management, ensure our survival as a cohesive entity through this century, is even constructed. It is incumbent upon us to ensure its success. While we can justifiably take pride in our achievement thus far, if we are to bring this vital project to a proper completion, let us heed a few words of advice from Blessed Augustine: “Do you wish to rise? Begin by descending. You plan a tower that will pierce the clouds? First lay the foundation of humility.” Let’s get to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday, 7 May 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-5382684317728898099?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/5382684317728898099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=5382684317728898099' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/5382684317728898099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/5382684317728898099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/05/tower-begins.html' title='THE TOWER BEGINS'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OkbY3FaCxrA/TdBkav8oS4I/AAAAAAAAA-0/YnHpGJJ9kTI/s72-c/gocmvbld2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-2989161645019523924</id><published>2011-04-30T09:17:00.001+09:30</published><updated>2011-05-06T09:19:46.102+09:30</updated><title type='text'>ATHENS 0.0</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vvUKGuPehJU/TcM3h5wjlWI/AAAAAAAAA-k/0ITPwf_B5F8/s1600/greece-muslims-2010-11-16-5-40-39.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603383416958719330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 258px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vvUKGuPehJU/TcM3h5wjlWI/AAAAAAAAA-k/0ITPwf_B5F8/s400/greece-muslims-2010-11-16-5-40-39.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Xριστός Ανέστη! Or at least it is thus for most of us, save the directors of the Grecian radio station "Athens 9.84." According to reports by parliamentarian Ioannis Mihelakis, these ultra-sensitive, new age directors, imbued to overflowing with sentiments of tolerance and mutual respect, issued a directive to their employees not to broadcast any of the church services of Holy Week, or even, the Resurrection Service, over their airwaves. This is a most revolutionary act, breaking a tradition of decades.&lt;br /&gt;What is even more revolutionary, iconoclastic and thoroughly ground-breaking, is the reason cited for such a brave statement. According to the perspicacious directors of "Athens 9.84," to broadcast such material would invariably inflame the sentiments of the million or so Muslim inhabitants of Greece and of course there is not enough balm even in Gilead that could be applied to soothe such inflammations.&lt;br /&gt;In this post-modern, deconstructed world, dispossessed of absolute truths, the New Age directors of "Athens 9.84" are to be applauded for divesting themselves of their narrow Hellenocentricity and nationalism, in order to take into account the attitudes and opinions of minorities. Indeed, their act is of historical importance. For as one is to understand from a cursory retrospective glance at Greek history, the last time the manifestation of Orthodox church services was curtailed in such away so as not to offend Muslim sentiment, was during the Ottoman occupation. At that time, the building of new churches was banned and the ringing of church bells was forbidden. Further, Christian testimony did not bear the same weight as Muslim testimony in law courts, Christians had to wear distinctive clothing so as to be distinguished from Muslims, they were forbidden from riding horses, or from possessing homes with windows that looked out onto the street. Funnily enough, though these measures were designed to assuage Muslim feelings against Christians, they seemed to have the opposite effect, if the genocide of the Christian peoples of Anatolia is anything to go by.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps the directors of "Athens 9.84" can obtain lessons in how not to inflame Islamic sentiment, by seeking advice from the Coptic Christians of Egypt, where some of the Ottoman laws still apply. There, Christians are not permitted to build new churches or renovate new ones without going through an impossible bureaucratic process, must take their shoes off before entering church and cannot, in most places, openly practise their faith, for fear of offending Muslims. That offence, caused by their mere existence, is displayed through their rape, kidnapping and murder, along with the bombing of their churches.&lt;br /&gt;It is trite to point out that Modern Greece owes its existence as a response to religious intolerance from the Muslim world, or that Modern Greece still is a predominantly Orthodox Christian country, the rituals and services of which culminate at Easter and are almost universally enjoyed and considered of great significance the Greek people, forming a significant part of their national identity. To seek to curtail or abrogate the rights of people to participate in these appears ridiculous. Nonetheless, Greece is also a part of the European Union, and it is under its aegis that Christmas decorations and celebrations have been discontinued in neighbourhoods inhabited by Muslims in some towns in the Netherlands. As a result, regular listeners of "Athens 9.84" and conspiracy theorists may fear that more than just stupidity and the desire to cause some controversy in the hope that this will translate into publicity, is at play here.&lt;br /&gt;In this light, the directors of "Athens 9.84" motives appear disingenuous and could indeed inspire ethnic and religious strife. Which sectors of the Muslim community have been offended by the liturgy and voiced their concerns to the directors? It is doubtful whether there have been any. If there have not been any such protests made, the directors must apologize to the Muslim community for making them appear intolerant, ungrateful and disrespectful towards the vast majority of the members of the community in which they have been permitted to join. Further, the directors need to produce and name those possibly illusory persons who have voiced the protests that have caused them to take such drastic action. There are people alive today who still remember the Ottoman Occupation and the intolerance that it fostered. To raise the spectre of such intolerance again, is to reawaken dormant fears and inherited traumas within sectors of Greek society. In a country beset with financial and social problems, the last thing that is needed is the isolation and vilification of a sector of the community which is perceived, rightly or wrongly, as a threat.&lt;br /&gt;If, on the other hand, protests and representations have truly been made, then the directors of "Athens 9.84" are to be equally condemned for their precipitous and short-sighted action. While everyone deserves to live with dignity and to enjoy freedom of religious and cultural expression, if the free exercise of such religious expression, such as broadcasting a religious service that means so much to the vast majority of the population offends others, then they have no place within society and their bigotry and intolerance should be condemned, not pandered to. They should be reminded that in the country in which they have been permitted to reside, at their request, and sometimes, in violation of Greek laws, they have been enjoying privileges and freedoms that are not afforded to Christians, in their homelands and that it is impolite and disrespectful for a guest in one's home to dictate to one's host, how the household will be run. As a corollary, latent prejudices that may be endemic to their communities should not be exaggerated or created into a scapegoat to cynically fuel the fears of other parties.&lt;br /&gt;It is worthwhile to remember that Greece is a democracy and as such, it allows for such freedoms as that of religion and expression. In this respect, surely people of all walks of life who are offended, annoyed, bored or just don't want to listen to the Pascal liturgy on the radio can merely switch to another station. Social cohesion is arrived at through the convergence of points of mutual understand and respect, not fear of reaction and pandering to prejudice. The anencephalic directors of "Athens 9.84" should think more responsibly, the next time they decide to indulge in religious or ethnic politics. What this sordid little state of affairs should teach us, is that tolerance, along with our most hallowed traditions, is not something to be taken for granted. It is up to all of us, to ensure their survival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 30 April 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-2989161645019523924?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/2989161645019523924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=2989161645019523924' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2989161645019523924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2989161645019523924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/04/athens-00.html' title='ATHENS 0.0'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vvUKGuPehJU/TcM3h5wjlWI/AAAAAAAAA-k/0ITPwf_B5F8/s72-c/greece-muslims-2010-11-16-5-40-39.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-7620324926002089696</id><published>2011-04-23T08:53:00.001+09:30</published><updated>2011-04-27T08:56:52.832+09:30</updated><title type='text'>TSALOUMAS WHO???</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5tGpCYH7xfc/TbdUYWEUdbI/AAAAAAAAA-c/07x-ML5A5eI/s1600/Tsaloumas_71563071.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600037438875792818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 277px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5tGpCYH7xfc/TbdUYWEUdbI/AAAAAAAAA-c/07x-ML5A5eI/s400/Tsaloumas_71563071.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;“bare-breasted women&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;brandishing angry flags&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;march in the blood-sunset light&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;hirsute and bayonets'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;down with tyranny' etc'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;make love not war' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;etcet cetera”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In a 2008 article, Ali Alizadeh argues that the only non-Anglo-Celtic poet to have received both the National Book Council Award and the Patrick White Award, nonagenarian Dimitris Tsaloumas, in his bilingual 1983 collection, The Observatory, can perhaps be credited with launching multiculturalism in Australian poetry. He posits that although not ostensibly revolutionary in either form or content, The Observatory was in many ways the first refutation of the policy of assimilation in the field of published poetry. His was a book that not only challenged the hegemony of English language by including the Greek texts of all of the poems, but also depicted an Australian author's unashamedly and, for the time, daringly non-Anglo-Celtic cultural and artistic heritage.&lt;br /&gt;Tsaloumas, perhaps one of the greatest of the Greek-Australian poets after Archbishop Stylianos, has led a life that reads like a veritable Odyssey. Born in 1921 on the island of Leros, which was then under Italian rule, his formal education was in Italian. His later schooling was on Rhodes where he also studied the violin. He came of age during the Italian and German occupation of Greece, and took part in the resistance, acting as a courier. In Greece, before migrating to Australia, he published two collections of poetry, one of which was printed with the help of the tremendous English writer and philhellene Lawrence Durrell, who met Tsaloumas on Rhodes and was impressed with his work.&lt;br /&gt;He left for Australia in 1952 due to political persecution, where he earned a living by teaching. Very soon after he commenced writing again in Greek and had several volumes published. This first triumphant manifestation upon the difficult Australian poetic proscenium took place when a selection of his Greek poems was published in the bilingual edition The Observatory in 1983.&lt;br /&gt;Then in 1988 his first English poems were published in Falcon Drinking. Since then he has published several more volumes of English poetry, gaining a considerable reputation both in Greece and Australia, obtaining, among other accolades, an Emeritus Award from Literature Board of the Australia Council for outstanding and lifelong contribution to Australian literature in 2002.&lt;br /&gt;As a poet who has achieved acceptance within the mainstream, he is particularly lauded within the Greek-Australian cultural and literary millieu, such as that which exists and it is in this context that the Greek-Australian Cultural League of Melbourne organised a public reading of his work by the poet himself – a particularly singular event, since Dimitris Tsaloumas spends most of his time in Leros and is approaching the venerable age of ninety. The event was to be held in the English language, in the belief, as one of the Cultural League’s Committee members confided, that this would make the poet and his works accessible to the latter English speaking generations who may feel isolated by cultural and literary events conducted in the Greek language, largely for the first generation.&lt;br /&gt;As such, a large audience was expected and it was the poet himself who made the following prescient and cynical remark to one of the organisers, a day prior: &lt;em&gt;“How will two thousand people fit in this small area?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Accordingly, the turn-out was slightly disappointing, the poet receiving an audience no where near commesnurate with his stature. It is a sad reality that while accomplished poets such as Tsaloumas receive accolades and recognition by the literatii, the community at large know hardly anything of them. In a community where cultural and literary pursuits invariably mix with social aspirations, launches of lesser works purporting to be literature can haul in capacity crowds whereas a public reading by a truly accomplished and recognised as such poet, fails to capture the enthusiasm of the first generation.&lt;br /&gt;Furthermore, there was an almost total absence of English speakers of the second generation at the reading, tending to suggest that it is more than just a language barrier that keeps the latter generations away from events organised by the first generation. While the roots of the chasm between the generations are complex and cannot bear examination here, perhaps it is high time that the first generation, while well meaning, should desist from attempting to organise events for the latter generations. Should those latter generations, most of whom have been born and educated in this country and able to move seamlessly within the echelons of its social fabric exhibit the desire to organise similar events for themselves, then they are more than capable of doing so. The fact that they overwhelmingly have not, seems to speak volumes as to their attitude to the first generation’s pursuits and concerns, and their Greek, as opposed to ethnic minority heritage in general.&lt;br /&gt;Conversely, it was heartening and deeply touching to witness a first generation most of whom find English challenging, sit patiently through an exposition of Tsaloumas’ works and then the reading in English of his poems. They sat, allowing the sound bytes to wash over them enthralled, perhaps not comprehending as much as they may have had the whole event been conducted in Greek but nonetheless, spellbound by Tsaloumas’ electric presence.&lt;br /&gt;For indeed Tsaloumas, for all his diminutive size, is charismatic. His wide eyes are the true eyes of the poet- all seeing and possessing an incredible piercing gaze. His voice, when reciting is deep and gravelly, like the recording of an ancient phonograph record, and it rises and falls periodically with all the dramatic intensity of an olde worlde thespian. The Greek burr to his cultivated English lends to it a Welsh effect and one could have been forgiven for thinking that they were listening to Dylan Thomas recitation. When, to the relief of the audience, recitations commenced in Greek, Tsaloumas’ listeners were practically euphoric.&lt;br /&gt;It is not difficult to see why. Tsaloumas’ language may appear at times to be deceptively simple, but the images and themes he weaves with them are profound and there is something to be found for everyone in his work. Furthermore, the audience was manifestly proud of our Grand Old Man’s accomplishments and wanted to bask in their peer’s adulation of him.&lt;br /&gt;In a recent article titled 'Only Pinter remains to question authority', English literary theorist and thinker Terry Eagleton bemoans the decline of politically-engaged writing in English. He criticises, among others, the once radical, now conservative migrant writers like V.S. Naipaul and Salman Rushdie who, after an initial period of producing exciting work, have become 'more &lt;em&gt;interested in adopting than challenging the conventions of their place of refuge'.,&lt;/em&gt; Ali Alizadeh levels this criticism at Tsaloumas, stating that &lt;em&gt;“after this auspicious entry into the milieu of Australian literature, however, Tsaloumas seems to have settled all too comfortably into his position as the sole non-Anglo-Celtic name in the elite anthologies of contemporary Australian verse. Over the decades his poetry has also lost much of its richness and sophistication, to the point that [it] displays the same chauvinism and 'old age conservatism' that one would find in work by many 'established' Australian poets of the dominant Anglo-Celtic culture.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;This is a little unkind and does not take into account the differences of perspective, introspection and self-examination that come with age. While I would argue that Tsaloumas’ later works stand up to literary criticism well, of particular concern is not so much Tsaloumas’ continued appreciation by the mainstream but rather his appreciation by our community. His bilingual poems should be taught in Greek schools and in particular, at VCE level. And we should all take time out to heed his masterfully woven and prophetic words, as best we can: &lt;em&gt;“All my life long, I’ve hankered after simplicity. When night falls, don’t come to light candles and pour the wine. There’s not enough for two; I cannot share my hunger.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday, 23 April 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-7620324926002089696?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/7620324926002089696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=7620324926002089696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7620324926002089696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7620324926002089696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/04/tsaloumas-who.html' title='TSALOUMAS WHO???'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5tGpCYH7xfc/TbdUYWEUdbI/AAAAAAAAA-c/07x-ML5A5eI/s72-c/Tsaloumas_71563071.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-1473389713392589534</id><published>2011-04-16T09:25:00.000+09:30</published><updated>2011-04-20T09:27:45.097+09:30</updated><title type='text'>ANTITHESIS FESTIVAL FORUM</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"So you are of Greek background... You don’t seem like a Greek to me...I see lots of Greeks on television – you don’t seem to be like them. Tell me about yourself....”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Some Sunday’s ago, the Antithesis Festival presented a forum on how Greek identity constructs manifest themselves within mainstream professional culture, in the opulent surrounds of the Hellenic Museum.&lt;br /&gt;Antithesis is of course a Greek compound word, whose constituent parts bear further examination. Anti means opposite and thesis means position, so the Antithesis Festival assumes positions that are opposite, which is kind of intellectually kinky when one thinks about it but which should not be dwelt upon at any length here. At the commencement of the forum, I made the following opening remarks:&lt;br /&gt;“&lt;em&gt;It was Jonathan Hall who coined the term Hellenicity, in order to describe the multiplicity of identities inherent within people who derive their cultural heritage from the land of Greece and the term - more indicatory of a state of being – is a particularly apt one, since it is safe to say that few other peoples have been so obsessed with their identity as the Greeks. As far back as Herodotus, Greeks were talking in terms of ‘us’ and ‘them,’ setting criteria to exclude others and of course denigrating them in the process – πας μη έλλην βάρβαρος- or all who are not Greeks are barbarians- being the order of the day. Along the way, Greek nations such as the Macedonians, received short shrift, their right to membership of the club being called into question during the Olympic Games and by politically motivated orators such as Demosthenes.&lt;br /&gt;It should be noted in fairness that the above notwithstanding, the Greeks of old were enamoured of the pursuit of establishing genealogies for all the diverse peoples they came in contact with and thus, were, on their own admission, related to most of these. Nonetheless, our ancestors were so obsessed with creating an identity, probably because no such common identity existed. In a land riddled with warring city states, poets and historians seized on common elements such as language, religion and shared experiences such as the Persian wars, to attempt to forge an identity. This would not last long and would invariably break down.&lt;br /&gt;Greeks tend to define themselves only in the face of the other – the Xenos. Thus we only see the emergence of a cohesive Greek-like identity after the Roman conquest, and only because the Romans identified all of us as Greeks. Indeed the word Greek comes from the latinised workd for Graecoi, the first Greek tribe the Latins came in contact with.&lt;br /&gt;The way we define ourselves against the other is almost instinctive. Most Greeks in a non-Greek environment will take great pains to emphasise their Greekness and differentiate themselves from their peers. This process therefore has ancient roots.&lt;br /&gt;Who we are supposed to be is a concept that is still being refined. Our parents think they know who they are. They learned what a Greek is at school, a compination of jingoistic rhetoric and nationalistic mythology. But even as first generation Greeks lament the fact that future generations are not maintaining their identity, they cannot agree among themselves what that identity is. The pages of Neos Kosmos are full of their anguish and confusion. Are we devout Orthodox Christians, toga wearing logical and rational philosophers, heterosexuals and devotees of the sanctity of the family, superintelligent successful educated bourgeoisie, or shifty kombinadoroi who always manage to make do on our native wit? Are we superior or inferior to the other ethnicities among whom we live? Of course we are. To allude otherwise is to sow chaos, doubt and schism generally.&lt;br /&gt;Tonight’s forum: Responses from the distant edge of Greekness is particularly apt – though arse end of Greekness is probably more so, because half a century on from the wave of mass migration of Greeks to this country, there exist two Greek worlds, that of the first generation, which looks back to a rural past and the imagined world of old Greek schoolbooks in order to define itself and the second and third Australian born Generations whose idea of Greekness is received rather than lived, gleaned from sources, rather than experienced first-hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we are going to view the role of Greekness among the latter generations think it is helpful therefore if we kick off tonight’s discussion by considering what it is that we understand by the term Greekness or that other excruciating word Hellenism. Is it still relevant to talk about a multiplicity of Hellenisms? What is our experience of it? Is there a need for a collective ethnic identity in a post modern world? How important is the construct of a Greek identity to Australian constructs like multiculturalism?&lt;br /&gt;George Vasilacopoulos in his groundbreaking study: From Migrant to Citizen Greek migrants in white Australia postulates that the creation of ethnic definitions such as Greek community by the ruling class, with laws, grants and regulations supplied by that ruling class perpetuate and validate the violent seizure of aboriginal land by compelling subsequent minorities to legitimize the ruling classes sovereignty by abiding by their laws and defining themselves according to their definition. Is our definition of Greek-Australians therefore an Australian construct? Food for thought.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Each of the panellists had engrossing observations to make, based on their own diverse experience. Luka “Lesson” Haralampou, rapper and slam champion explained how he employs Greek words and phrases in his lyrics, not in order to make any type of ethnic statement but purely as these words form part of his identity. As he hastened to point out, he employs Spanish and other words in the same way, because these too form part of his identity, given that they have meaning for him. In his discourse, the way was pointed towards a purely subjective identity, divorced from the requirements of stereotypes.&lt;br /&gt;Katerina Kotsonis, an actress with years of experience spoke about prevailing stereotypes that exist within media about Greek people. Interestingly, she posited that when confronted with these stereotypes and having understood why such stereotypes were implausible, her employers were more likely than not to revise and reprise ‘ethnic’ characters. In the discussion afterwards, the audience wondered whether there will come a time when characters of ethnic background can simply play themselves within film or drama and not merely an “ethnic.”&lt;br /&gt;Esther Anatolitis, CEO of the Melbourne Fringe Festival gave an erudite and thoroughly thought-provoking analysis of the social and family pressures that presuppose a Greek identity. Often, these elements are not nationalistic but are merely forms of social or familial repression masquerading as an element of a Greek identity. One’s lifestyle, choice of partner or choice of interests should not preclude them from having their Greek identity impugned and yet this is something that the first generation often does, as a way of enforcing desired forms of conduct upon the latter generations.&lt;br /&gt;Dr Michael Christoforidis, Senior Lecturer in the Faculty of Music at the University of Melbourne explained how one’s family background (his mother lived in a Greek city, rather than a village) can exclude one from fully belonging to an identity constructed by the majority of others claiming inclusion. Intriguingly, he noted how elements of his Greek identity assisted him in negotiating Spanish social customs, upon his long sojourn in Spain, while studying there.&lt;br /&gt;Alkinos Tsilimidos, international award-winning film director, writer and producer spoke of the close relationship his has with the Greek land, returning there frequently and how elements of Greece manifest themselves in his work.&lt;br /&gt;All panellists had much to tell as to how Greek identity manifests itself within the ordinary course of one’s daily life in Australia. What was not touched on, given time constraints, is how that identity will be formed when the first generation is no longer extant as a point of reference. This is the reason why forums of this nature are so valuable. At this point of our historical existence as a community, we are more diverse, involved in a gamut of&lt;br /&gt;multifarious interests and pursuits as ever before. If we are to retain any sense of cohesion as a community, interested parties will have to plan ahead in order to take this diversity into account.&lt;br /&gt;James Oliver postulates that the term Panhellenes was first employed in times ancient to describe the commonality of central Greek tribes. Three thousand years on, we are still as diverse and different from each other as ever before. Forums such as that organized by the Antithesis Festival celebrate that diversity, while challenging the stereotypes that we create of ourselves. It is to us to determine, how best to employ that diversity to our advantage, rather than to our aposythesis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday, 16 April 2011.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-1473389713392589534?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/1473389713392589534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=1473389713392589534' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/1473389713392589534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/1473389713392589534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/04/antithesis-festival-forum.html' title='ANTITHESIS FESTIVAL FORUM'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-2763294244516484729</id><published>2011-04-09T10:47:00.002+09:30</published><updated>2011-04-11T10:57:38.866+09:30</updated><title type='text'>POTTY MOUTH</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jZ31K5Ti7Fo/TaJXXS6gnSI/AAAAAAAAA-U/PXHbdsRikKw/s1600/justice21.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594129744873430306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 371px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jZ31K5Ti7Fo/TaJXXS6gnSI/AAAAAAAAA-U/PXHbdsRikKw/s400/justice21.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Sticks and stones may break my bones but words I can't pronounce hurt others" &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In a Diatribe οf 2008, entitled «Κωλοδουλειές,» the diatribist railed against a barrister who representing the alleged rapist of a victim of Greek descent, sought to disqualify all members of the jury also of Greek descent on the grounds that he had heard that "Greeks like anal sex." This was instructive, because it revealled how thousands of years of prejudice can manifest themselves within a multicultural society, as well as highly offensive. Despite official rhetoric, if multiculturalism is to be defined as a melting pot of cultures existing harmoniously alongside each other on an equal basis, then we definitely have a long way to go. In their groundbreaking study: From Foreigner to Citizen: Greek Migrants and Social Change in White Australia 1897-2000," George Vassilacopoulos and Tina Nicolacopoulou analyse how the key forms in which migrant communities manifest our existence here are paradoxical. Though lip service is paid to communities forming their own organizations and sub-structures, the way in which this is done is heavily regulated and prescribed by the state, originally in order to keep sub-cultures away from the mainstream. As a result of such government-sanctioned behaviour, the sub-cultures remain isolated, suspect and constantly having to prove their loyalty credentials to their host country, that is perpetually unable to accept them as they are. Vassilacopoulos and Nicolacopoulou also note that such racially exclusion is symptomatic of the ontopathology of the predominant ruling group in this country, in seeking to legitimise its conquest and rule over Australia at the expense of its original inhabitants, by acting as arbiter over other nationalities it has chosen to include but not assimilate within its constructed society. In that sociopathic world, generalisations and denigrations can still be made about ethnic groups, just as they were made in the early twentieth century, when ethnic minorities, the Greek one among them, were considered suspect and were subject to internment or at best, surveillance and censorship. Further, in that world, rights can still be abrogated on the basis of perceived racial characteristics. Fifty-year-old Spiros Chryssanthakopoulos has at first hand experienced such ontopathology, complaining that he has been humiliated and racially vilified after discovering from a court transcript that magistrate Jack Vandersteen, clerk and police prosecutor laughed while discussing his name.Mr Chryssanthakopoulos has written to Chief Magistrate Ian Gray complaining that at one point a man can be heard on the recording making the comment &lt;em&gt;"I can't pronounce that sh--".&lt;/em&gt; Allegedly the clerk can be heard laughing while struggling to pronounce Mr Chryssanthakopoulos's name, before magistrate Jack Vandersteen says: &lt;em&gt;"No wonder we can't find him ... he would have been a hard name to recite 25 times. There's 19 letters in it."&lt;/em&gt;In a letter dated March 18, Chief Magistrate Gray said he did not believe the comment was offensive. &lt;em&gt;"The comment was made following repeated and failed attempts of the clerk to pronounce your name when the case was being called," he wrote. "In my opinion, the recording does not demonstrate the magistrate was intending to cause you any offence...I am sure I speak for magistrate Vandersteen in saying that if any offence was caused, then it is sincerely regretted." &lt;/em&gt;So Chief Magistrate Grey does not believe that ridiculing the length or sound of one's name is not racist. He, as chief judicial officer of the Magistrates' Court has made his ruling and the matter is at an end. If anything, his response could be considered to be even more insulting than the ridicule the hapless victim of racism received behind in his absence (one wonders whether Mr Vandersteen would have had the courage to ridicule his victim to his face), as it calls into question the victim's judgment and his right to logically assess slights to his person. All this may do is to reinforce the stereotype that Greeks are overly emotional people and that their protestations are not a matter for concern. Extrapolating Vassilcaopoulos and Nicolacopoulou's arguments further, it becomes evident by such hurtful conduct that the ruling Anglo-Saxon hegemony seeks to legitimise its cultural and temporal rule over the globe by becoming the arbiter of how smaller, tributary cultures define themselves. Consequently, when we choose to present ourselves to the ruling discourse, we need to do so in a manner that panders to their sense of superiority. That is, if our ethnicity is to have any relevance to that hegemony, we need to demean ourselves. If we don't, they will do that themselves. If we protest, they reserve the right to dismiss such a protest. Thus, Chief Magistrate Grey cannot be looked upon without sympathy. He too, without realising it, is a victim of a culture where the denigration of foreign names has become second nature, regardless of whether any premeditation or malice has preceded this. This culture, is a frightening one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When Anglo-Saxons have unpronounceable names, we are expected to pronounce them. I doubt whether most Greeks who do not speak English well could pronounce the name Vandersteen with ease. Yet there does not within Greek culture, exist a concept of not ridiculing people's names, or constructing a Shakespearean drama around their unpronounceability, simply because in our culture a name is sacred. It encapsulates a person's identity. However, in this country, we who have had unpronounceable names are punished for this via ridicule and dismissal, or by a denial of the legitimacy of that name and coercion to adopt another. As a newly admitted lawyer, unsure of procedure before the bench and fumbling, I have been granted my name an ironic pronunciation by a particular presiding judge, though the same judge did not play with the names of my similarly inept Anglo-Saxon brethren. Prior to that, my school teachers indulged in the same hurtful name calling. This, in my mind, despite Chief Justice Grey's assertions, is passive aggressive racism, designed to demean and I hasten to point out that I would doubt that the Chief Justice has ever had his name employed in the same way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The Greek community of Melbourne is outraged at the slur directed towards the absent victim, not only because it has had to deal with such ridicule for over half a century, but also because when such behaviour is exhibited by a magistrate, who is, at least in the popular conscience, supposed to uphold the maxim that all are treated equally before the law, this conveys the opposite message, that some people, by virtue of the pronounceability of their names and their ethnic provenance, are more entitled to basic human respect than others. The outpouring of persons who on the Herald Sun website, whether the slur against the victim was reported, made comments such as: &lt;em&gt;"Eat some concrete ponce......obviously the hearing regarding the speeding fine didn't go too well.....so I'll whine, whinge and get my 15 seconds of fame....obviously a slow news," "Get over yourself lovey - OR change your name," "How about you harden the Chryssanthakopoulos up!"&lt;/em&gt; or &lt;em&gt;"This is easily fixed, change your name. A name that works well in Greece obviously doesn't work well in an English speaking predominantly anglo-saxon country. Why is that the majority have to change to suit the minority in multiculturalism?" &lt;/em&gt;should give our community pause for reflection. All of a sudden, a victim has become vilified and suddenly, turned into a perpetrator.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It is unknown whether the organised Greek community will take a public stand on this issue and demand the institution of protocols to deal with and avoid behaviour that is racist or hurtful in public institutions. As a "subservient" community, to adopt the terminology of Vassilacopoulos and Nicolacopoulou, we are loathe (and possibly incapable, owing to the fragmented nature of our community,) to display our displeasure at the offhand application of racial slurs and bigoted, outmoded references to such ethnic characteristics, in any effective fashion, lest we be deemed to be "subversive." As a result of this lack of advocacy on our behalf, we lie passively, awaiting the next distasteful intrusion. Mr Chryssanthakopoulos, the victim in this sorry tale should be commended for his courage in speaking out against entrenched and latent racial or ethnic slurs. While incensed Anglo-Saxons may poke fun at him saying: &lt;em&gt;"I feel humiliated, I feel like the court and police are ganging up on me...the racial vilification, the bungles, the vindictiveness, it's all been a nightmare."&lt;/em&gt; To the person who responded thus: &lt;em&gt;"Dear Mr Alphabet - face it you have a very long, unusual and difficult to pronounce surname and someone made a joke about it. No one took away your liberty, you didn't lose any of your possessions and no one was hurt... so get over it,"&lt;/em&gt; we respond by saying that it is a nightmare to grow up in a country where your compatriots were interned in World War I as a security risk, even though your country of origin was allied to Australia, where your people are ordered off trams and buses for speaking in their own language, where they are constantly talked down to and demeaned. It is a nightmare to dream, years later, that there is exists in this country, a concept called multiculturalism, where all cultures are equal, to believe in that dream, and to wake up to the stark reality that decades on, this basic respect for one's ethnicity has not been able to permeate the social strata to the extent that it should have. Magistrate Vandersteen does not need to apologize to the victim or to the Greek community. If anything, we thank him, for letting us know by his actions exactly how he feels about us and for the fact that he has reinforced to us, how important our language, culture and names are to us. We will never let these go. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 9 April 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-2763294244516484729?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/2763294244516484729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=2763294244516484729' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2763294244516484729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2763294244516484729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/04/potty-mouth.html' title='POTTY MOUTH'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jZ31K5Ti7Fo/TaJXXS6gnSI/AAAAAAAAA-U/PXHbdsRikKw/s72-c/justice21.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-7174377135931639228</id><published>2011-04-02T15:37:00.001+10:30</published><updated>2011-04-07T15:39:54.423+09:30</updated><title type='text'>ΚΑΦΕΣ</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LjmRpH69aK0/TZ1U_fiC0TI/AAAAAAAAA-M/36TPyidqnJM/s1600/greek-coffee-preparation3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592719762036805938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 249px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LjmRpH69aK0/TZ1U_fiC0TI/AAAAAAAAA-M/36TPyidqnJM/s400/greek-coffee-preparation3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When my great grandmother, at the venerable age of 105 sips Greek coffee, she does so with the grace and μεράκι of a true connoisseur. First she grips the cup lovingly, drawing a short, sharp intake of breath through the nostrils so as to savour the aroma and then, slowly she leans forward and takes the first sip. As the coffee parts company with the cup and touches her lips, her eyelids close in ecstasy and she emits a long, drawn out sigh: «Άααααχ.» It was her daughter, my grandmother who first pointed this out to me during a trip to Athens, in the context of my taking coffee in her kitchen. Apparently, my method of imbibing the delectable beverage is exactly the same. This is surprising, for my earliest memories of drinking herbal stimulants revolve around tea. My paternal grandmother, who arrived in Australia in the early fifties, espoused afternoon tea-drinking with the fervour that is only displayed by the newly converted. She quickly formed the conviction that as opposed to the consumption of tea, which was a benign and beneficial pursuit, coffee drinking was undertaken by denizens of the underworld, possessed of deep, dark, nefarious purposes. Right up until the time of her demise, I would not drink coffee in her presence, for to do so, was both an affront and a sacrilege. Try as I might, I could not ever convince my grandmother that coffee drinking was a most Hellenic pursuit. After all, coffee was reputedly known to the Byzantines as νυφοκοκόζυμος, and they were well aware, having been informed by their missionaries, that it had been banned in its place of origin, Ethiopia, as it was used in pagan ceremonies. Further, it was a Greek who first introduced coffee drinking to Balliol College, Oxford University. The Cretan Nathanael Konopios, later Metropolitan of Smyrna was sent to England by Patriarch Cyril Loukaris in the early 1600’s as part of his rapprochement with the Protestant nations. While he failed to achieve any lasting success on the ecclesiastical front, he did introduce to the land of his hosts the beverage that would change the political map of England, given that English political parties have their origins in the coffee houses in which like minded individuals met to imbibe and discuss the affairs of the day. As I was to find out from an Armenian friend who was studying modern Greek while I was at University, and who upon her return from a trip to Greece bought me a Greek translation of the great Turkish writer Aziz Neşin’s side-splitting satire, “Coffee and Democracy,” both these ideas are eponymous with Hellenism. Neşin makes the equation in the following way: &lt;em&gt;“Two things do not thrive in our country: One is the coffee tree and the other is democracy. Both are foreign.” He then goes on to propound what has been my political manifesto ever since: “When there is no coffee, people’s heads spin. When there is no democracy, people’s heads do not spin. Coffee has an aroma. You can’t smell democracy. Coffee is poured into a cup and drunk, while Democracy can neither be eaten nor drunk. So why do we need Democracy? Vast quantities of Democracy are imported into our country but there is a scarcity of coffee. Coffee is sold but Democracy is provided for free… Had we spent the past hundred years in cultivating coffee rather than Democracy, our country would now be a forest of coffee trees.” &lt;/em&gt;My great-grandmother was convinced at least. For her, coffee drinking is truly a century old tradition, transplanted from her village to Australia. There she would drink her coffee as her young grand-daughter, my mother would enthusiastically recount her lessons at school. My great-grandmother, in the tradition of Cyril Loukaris, took especial interest in Martin Luther, who she called «Λούφα,» a particularly apt transenunciation within the context of the escapism of coffee-drinking. Her visits to our house would be interrupted with injunctions to make a fresh cup of coffee every hour or so and in the meantime, our whole family history would be expounded, analysed and interpreted. Sitting among matriarch and mother, I was thus inducted into a hidden but not forgotten world of pain, pathos and nostalgia, recorded and kept safe by the thick grounds in our cups. Upon the conclusion of each coffee drinking session, my mother would swirl our cups, making sure that the coffee dregs were evenly distributed throughout and turn them upside down. Having waited a while for them to dry, she would then turn them upside down and attempt to read our future in the tortuous and twisted paths formed by the fall of the coffee dregs. Nothing she ever said came true but I became adept and making up plausible stories for my aunts, based on snippets of gossip gleaned here or there and was convinced of my shammic supernatural powers until such time as my cup was read in Turkey by an old woman in whose house I stayed. Every single thing she had predicted came true and in my more unsuspecting moments, I fear the things that have not yet transpired. It is from this pursuit that the word «κατακάθι» is employed. Used today in the same pejorative sense as the word “dreg” it merely refers to grounds that have “sat down” at the bottom of a cup. In this sense, the meaning is not too far from the Pontian «παρακάθι,» a party where people stay on for far too long – and not even the cup of coffee that traditionally acts as a subtle hint that one’s visit should draw to a close, can dislodge them. Visiting my parents without drinking coffee is strange and unnatural. The first words spoken in greeting as I enter the family home are: «Φτιάξε καφέ,» despite the fact they may have already had their coffee, and, most importantly that the way I rejoice in my coffee is βαρύγλυκυς, invariably concerning vast quantities of sugar and coffee, causing my father to splutter: «Φτου, φτου, πετμέζ’ τον έκανες!» Their version of coffee, with the consistency of consome, is just too beastly to be contemplated and I insist upon mine, for no other type of coffee will ever touch my lips – save the Greek coffee espresso, which I had the fascination of ordering in Thessaloniki, comprising of Greek coffee to which boiling water has been applied. The results are negligible but the novelty praiseworthy. The coffee is a necessary stimulant to the discussing of family affairs and when parental advice or criticism is offered in stark fashion, one can always seek refuge in swirling the grounds around the cup and becoming engrossed in their re-alignment, to the exclusion of everything else. Proving that symmetry and balance exists amid the chaos of the universe, my wife prefers tea to coffee, which she considers to be detrimental to one’s health and because coffee is by its nature, a pleasure not to be enjoyed in seclusion, I generally do not drink coffee at home. My mother in law however, manages to restore the harmony of the spheres by serving tea at the commencement of our visit, to conclude with aniseed flavoured coffee at its conclusion. The results, in terms of the elevation of the spirits are phenomenal. Greek coffee confers the ultimate consolation upon all, which is why it is traditionally offered to grieving friends when paying them a condolence visit. Further, it is not without coincidence that our word for brown, is the same as the word for coffee and I for one, can not live without it. It was Henry Ward Beecher who opined:”A cup of coffee – real coffee- home-browned, home ground, home made, that come to you dark as a hazel-eye, perfectly sweet – such a cup of coffee is a match for twenty devils and will exorcise them all,” and I cannot but adoringly agree. Until next week then, στην υγειά σας. DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday, 2 April 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-7174377135931639228?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/7174377135931639228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=7174377135931639228' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7174377135931639228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7174377135931639228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/04/blog-post.html' title='ΚΑΦΕΣ'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LjmRpH69aK0/TZ1U_fiC0TI/AAAAAAAAA-M/36TPyidqnJM/s72-c/greek-coffee-preparation3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-7349785967840278820</id><published>2011-03-26T09:05:00.002+10:30</published><updated>2011-03-29T09:09:12.160+10:30</updated><title type='text'>OF EMBASSIES AND PROFLIGACY</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f5cNqZtnRdI/TZEN8v3YO3I/AAAAAAAAA6E/i5R7yMmD0Ag/s1600/Greek_embassy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589263949835549554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f5cNqZtnRdI/TZEN8v3YO3I/AAAAAAAAA6E/i5R7yMmD0Ag/s400/Greek_embassy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"The decorations are like those of the embassy of a nation about to go into voluntary liquidation."&lt;/em&gt; Colin McInnes. Entering the diplomatic quarter of Tirana, the capital of Albania, is like stepping into an entirely different world. Gone is the grime and grittiness of the street; the bustle, noise and congestion banished beyond the checkpoint at the threshold of which one has to provide police with a legitimate reason for entry before going further. Yet in two steps, an eerie hush falls upon an empty and disconcertingly tidy street. Embassies and other official buildings face each other, assuming a polite and yet cool, give-away-no-secrets, do no favours demeanour. In the dark, Victorian-style restaurant on the corner, diplomatic staff revel in their privileged status by eating ham sandwiches and alluding to exclusive knowledge of secrets of whose import they know nothing. A street away, one navigates beyond the inordinately long line of Albanians patiently waiting entry for a visa and passes through the gate into the Greek embassy. At once, one enters an environment comfortable in its familiarity. Seated at his desk, poring over official documents while his cigarette lay forgotten, burning an arc of ash over an ashtray buried amidst newspapers, pens and a box of cakes, was my friend, an employee of the embassy. I sat with him, watching him work, discussing with him various aspects of the perspicacity, discretion and tactfulness that are prerequisites of his position, attributes the lack of which would ensure that I could never be suited to a career in diplomacy. I hesitantly ventured that my mental image of a fitting diplomat posted in Albania would be that of the world weary, ponderous countenance of poet laureate George Seferis, who was posted in the city of Korytsa during the period 1936-1938 and found the experience interminably boring. You really couldn't have it any other way. To do so, would be to invite chaos, schism and general disruption. &lt;em&gt;"Do you want to meet the Ambassador?"&lt;/em&gt; my friend riposted. &lt;em&gt;"He is the most amazing man. You should see what he has been able to do here."&lt;/em&gt; Indeed, unlike Seferis, the Greek Ambassador sported an amazing chestnut toupe of such implausibility that one could not do other than remain fixated upon it and truly it constitutes the yardstick by which I have measured the prowess of Greek diplomats ever since. However, in the brief time I spent with the Ambassador, I was greatly impressed by his exposition of the import of his duties to the maintenance of good relations between the two countries and his commitment to carrying these out. My friend no longer works at the Tirana Embassy owing to budget cuts as a consequence of Greece's burgeoning financial crisis. A member of the reek minority in Albania, he has been compelled to abandon his homeland and seek employment in Greece, which is a shame as he was masterfully adept at his role. Yet he is not a sole victim of the culling that is taking place in Greek embassies throughout the world. Cleaning staff and drivers at the Greek Embassy in Ankara are threatening to sue over unpaid wages, as the effects of the Greek financial crisis hit its Foreign Ministry hard. The economic crisis - the largest in the country's history - has the Greek Ministry of Foreign Affairs cutting back on expenses. This is leaving many embassies around the world without basic necessities such as heating and internet service.Ambassador to Turkey Xydas, who previously, served as Ambassador of Greece in Australia, while denying the non-payment of local staff, acknowledged that the situation was dire: &lt;em&gt;"We, regular diplomats, don't have contracts. Salaries were cut, not only for Greek diplomats, but also for many Portuguese, Spanish and Irish colleagues. We understand this and don't complain,"&lt;/em&gt; he added. Nonetheless, many Greek embassies throughout the world have also been late in paying their employees, angering their staff. At some embassies, Greek diplomats are paying the bills and doing the chores to keep the facilities up and running. The embassy in Russia is among those that have been unable to provide paychecks for their staff; without cleaning workers, the task has fallen to the diplomats themselves. The Greek Embassy in Ukraine is unprotected, as its police staff was not paid.Billing complications have left at least five embassies with no electricity, heating or internet service, and it is reported that many have received only 7 percent of the funds necessary to run an embassy. Recently, a frustrated ambassador in an African country wrote to the Foreign Ministry, outlining that its staff has not been paid and asking whether it was Greece's intention to present its worst face to the outside world. Budget cuts too are rumoured to have been felt keenly at the Greek Consulate in Melbourne, as a directive of etiquette, the locus of emanation from which is unknown, circulate among leaders of various Greek organisations, not to invite our new Consul-General to too many functions on weekends, as the traditional petrol allowance afforded to those in her position has been cut. Embassies truly are the face of a country within another. As such it is greatly distressing to perceive the difficulties facing the Greek Foreign Ministry in maintaining its embassies under the extremely difficult prevailing conditions and we can only sympathise with embassy and consular officials who have not been paid in months. Not only does this create a crisis of confidence in the Greek state but also retards the world mission of a country that has up until now, punched above its weight in the diplomatic stakes, with some success. It is for this reason that the presence of the three-man Greek parliamentary delegation, sent to attend our celebration of Greek Independence Day is uniquely mystifying. While consular staff go unpaid, are reduced to using power only for certain hours a day and have their freedom of movement severely circumscribed, somehow enough money can be conjured out of the black hole that is the Greek public purse to send some politicians and their entourage to Australia, simply to witness the flower of our youth march from the foot of the Shrine of Remembrance to the stairs of the Shrine of Remembrance and pronounce the tired and tawdry mantra, that we are more Greek than the Greeks. After all, this mantra assumes that we are not Greek and is thus, particularly hurtful. That is not to say that any guest from the homeland, especially one who represents the populace at large in its House of Babblement is not welcome within our communal bosom, especially during the time of our national festivities, which provide us with a unique opportunity to celebrate who we are and how far we have come. Nonetheless, one cannot but question the propriety of such a visit, the necessity and effect of which, not withstanding it imparting a token official Greek presence which translates into an official validation, conferring approbation upon our endeavours, is entirely questionable. Surely no further representation, especially during financial straitened times, is necessary than that of our Consul-General, Ms Lianidou, who though newly arrived upon our shores, has managed to win the hearts and admiration of the entire Greek community. She is after all, the representative of our motherland in Melbourne and is more than capable of conferring the necessary soothing words of praise, commendation and eulogy upon us that will make us feel less estranged from the Hellenic family, all at a tsarouhi-string budget. Personally, I would have ascribed kudos to the Greek Foreign Ministry, had it embarked upon the pursuit of procuring three relatively obscure members of the Greek community, obtaining for each of them a suit and then have them pose as visiting Greek politicians. This, gentle readers, is how the battle to get the budget back into the black is won. All Greek battles have been won against superhuman odds and only through the exercise of inordinate Hellenic ingenuity. Not to do so on this, our most auspicious and hallowed national celebration casts a pall upon what Modern Greece has become. If money can be found to send three most welcome and respected Greek members of Parliament to partake of our national celebrations, then surely money can be found to pay local staff and embassy employees, or what does this say about national priorities? Perhaps further money can be saved by replacing Consular staff with local impersonators and why stop there? Why not populate the Greek parliament with the local unemployed until the crisis is over. Who says they cannot lend to that august institution that has led Greece to the brink of fiscal disaster the requisite verisimilitude to maintain the illusion that they are still running the country? To our Parliamentary guests and our beleaguered friends in embassies all around the world, we place our hands tightly in our pockets and cry in unison:&lt;em&gt; Ζήτω το Έθνος! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 26 March 2011&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-7349785967840278820?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/7349785967840278820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=7349785967840278820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7349785967840278820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/7349785967840278820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/03/of-embassies-and-profligacy.html' title='OF EMBASSIES AND PROFLIGACY'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f5cNqZtnRdI/TZEN8v3YO3I/AAAAAAAAA6E/i5R7yMmD0Ag/s72-c/Greek_embassy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-4025888912852890023</id><published>2011-03-19T17:35:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2011-03-22T17:40:53.356+10:30</updated><title type='text'>ALISAVO: CHASING A DREAM</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vryWkEStCxs/TYhK9fGwP6I/AAAAAAAAA58/tnK3J6XQ0KY/s1600/patris-ship4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586797757935402914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 170px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vryWkEStCxs/TYhK9fGwP6I/AAAAAAAAA58/tnK3J6XQ0KY/s400/patris-ship4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Never has such a Rabellaisian in style book been published in the Greek language in Australia as Stratis Vakras’ “Alisavo: Chasing a Dream,” whose Greek edition has achieved great popularity, weaves together a masterly tale of triumph through adversity, punctuated by high farce and whose English translation was launched at the Greek Orthodox Community of Melbourne and Victoria last Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;Unlike its counterparts, the master painter of “Alisavo” loads his brush lightly so as to provide a palatable impressionistic vision of the social conditions that helped his heroes to form a social conscience and a particular world view, one whose principles provided a yardstick and a source of strength throughout the process of their acculturation to their new country. In Vakras' case, these principles, of morality, independence, love of justice and self-reliance as well his skepticism with regard to things supernatural are typical of the myth of the ingenious, self-made man that comprises the archetype of the migrant in the popular conception of the migrant communities of this country. Belief in one's self is vital and the author views his characters’ own strength and capabilities as the deciding factors that helped them navigate their way through such difficulties as the War, poverty, settling down in a new country and even tolerance and reconciliation for those who flout social norms. They are also typical of the values prized by many first-generation Greek migrants in Australia.&lt;br /&gt;If there is any justification for the rendering into English of further migrant literature, it is not because of its quaintness, but because this book being published as it is, half a century after the waves of mass migration that brought Greek people to Australian shores is not only truly representative of the lives and backgrounds of a multitude of Greek migrants coming to these shores but is also uniquely irreverent.&lt;br /&gt;The canon of migrant literature tends to mythologise both the process of immigration and acculturation. Vakras’ candid account is valuable, because, being penned in the sixties, it provides us with a unique insight into this mythologisation process according to which the honourable but poor Greeks migrants were compelled to heart-wrenchingly abandon their beloved homeland and to re-settle in Australia, where, as honest and hard-working new citizens, they toiled to carve a niche for themselves in their new country. It is infinitely amusing to witness Vakras’ decidedly anti-heroic characters, possessed only of minute quantities of the above-mentioned qualities sub-consciously creating that myth before our very eyes, in order to provide meaning to their experience and a sense of purpose&lt;br /&gt;As such, “Alisavo” introduces us to Gargantuan and Pantagruellian larger than life, implausible characters, whose adventures symbolize as well as summarize the lesser praised elements of the Greek migrant experience: deception, slyness, cunning and calculation. In adopting this approach, Vakras pays homage to the precedent set by the Byzantine Procopius, whose salacious ‘Secret History’ provides a valuable, ‘behind the scenes’ look at the reignof Justinian. However, unlike Procopius, we are caused to sympathise with our heroes’ prima facie negative traits as it is clear that these are a product of the heroes’ circumstances and are necessary for their survival.&lt;br /&gt;Indeed in this world, where men can be tricked into marriage, donkeys can win horse-races and miraculous draughts of fish can be raised from the ocean, the true villains are not our self-interested heroes, who struggle to survive and to support each other but those who, like Memas, worship money for their own sake. There is something infinitely redemptive in the character of anti-hero Menilos, who, though he considers abandoning his wife many times, never does and is able to support and welcome his sister, after she has disastrously attempted to separate herself from the migrant patriarchal society that was transposed here.&lt;br /&gt;Like Gorky, who split his autobiography into three parts, ("My Childhood," "My Apprenticeship" and "My Universities") Vakras also splits his book into three. The first section deals with his heroes’ in Greece and the privation they endured as a result of their family's social and economic class, coupled with the vicissitudes of war. This section is instructive as it explains why so many migrants of Greek extraction were forced to leave their countries and migrate to Australia. In Australia, the migrant narrative tends to be considered to begin upon their arrival on its shores and its causes are generally overlooked. Vakras masterfully restores the balance to this narrative by providing valuable insight into the deep&lt;br /&gt;traumas that caused the migration and their experience proves that while old wounds may heal, they never stop itching. To read this first section is to gain a deep understanding of the underlying conflicts, traumas and negative experiences which provided much of the motivation for immigration and also provide a good explanation as to why migrants behaved a certain way when they reached Australia as well.&lt;br /&gt;Section two is concerned mainly with the heroes' acculturation to their new environment in Australia. Of particular interest is Vakras’ narration of the bewilderment and absolute feeling of loss that migrants such as Menilos felt upon arriving in a total unknown country and how it was only through the support of other migrants, that they were able to establish roots and re-difine their lives. In Vakras’ mind, salvation lies within a cohesive Greek-Australian community that supports its members and fosters their development in all spheres of life. Indeed, it is upon this optimistic note that he returns to close the narrative, though decades later and with the benefit of hindsight, it is questionable whether that feeling of optimism has endured.&lt;br /&gt;The final part of the book, a redemptive look at the fate of Menilos’ sister, who chose love over devotion to the family at a time when these concepts were irreconcilable, is generous and courageous. In the end, though Menilos is very much the ‘macho man’ of his generation, his devotion to this member of his family helps him to overcome what his peers would have seen as the shame against his name. Here we see values held for generations slowly eroding under the pressure of acculturation but in Vakras’ mind, this is only done out of love and the need to support a family member and the member of the Greek community, in its wider context.&lt;br /&gt;It cannot be ignored that much of the work is taken up with polemics against Christianity. It is unclear whether this is merely a motif to reflect a deprived generation tired of absolutes and fettered by prejudice seeking intellectual and financial emancipation in a new country, or whether this serves deeper purposes. However, the vast majority of factual matters pertaining to the theology and liturgical practices of the Orthodox Christian that are mentioned in the text, are totally incorrect. This seems, more than anything else, to reflect popular misconceptions and the lesson to be drawn here, seems to be that migrants’ achievements, borne out of their own toil, are their own and cannot be ascribed to celestial beings. It is interesting then that in concluding the narrative, the author, having rejected religion as a defining cultural trait of the Greek people, looks forward to a time when a second generation may, upon the supports provided by the toil of the first generation of Greek migrants, excel in all spheres of the mainstream community but also, maintain its sense of community, language and traditions, according to his conception of what these actually are. It seems to be for this reason, that the narrative is ended while the major characters’ children are still in their infancy. Much can be inferred therefore, as to the place of the second generation in the first generation’s conception of their role in Australian and Greek-Australian society, by this yawning lacuna.&lt;br /&gt;Quite apart from its historic value or that it is representative of an entire generation, “Alisavo” is an engrossing read. The language is simple and cascades onto the page with the freshness of a mountain waterfall and this is a chief characteristic of the author himself. The narrative maintains a steady pace and is kind to those who know little of the complexities of Greek village life or life in Australia. The work presupposes some knowledge of the workings and structure of the Greek Community but this is not an insurmountable obstacle to its appreciation by any means. One cannot escape the feeling that the entire book, in attempting to rationalise and make humourous the migrant experience, intended the first generation as its main audience. All the more reason to translate it I say.&lt;br /&gt;For the youthful and inexperienced or unknowledgeable, “Alisavo” is instructive, for the experienced, reflective and conclusive, a repository of sage advice and passions that have not died down after so many years. Despite his passions, his pet-hates and his righteous anger, Vakras speaks to all of us with warmth and humour, offering his life experiences to us as a lesson and a resource upon which to draw, with the generosity and open-handedness that is so characteristic of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on 19 March 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-4025888912852890023?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/4025888912852890023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=4025888912852890023' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/4025888912852890023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/4025888912852890023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/03/alisavo-chasing-dream.html' title='ALISAVO: CHASING A DREAM'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vryWkEStCxs/TYhK9fGwP6I/AAAAAAAAA58/tnK3J6XQ0KY/s72-c/patris-ship4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-5610987351079142020</id><published>2011-03-15T10:40:00.001+10:30</published><updated>2011-03-15T10:42:04.111+10:30</updated><title type='text'>LES ANTIPODES APOCREATIQUES</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-azjbO-V1Tgc/TX6uxuqItlI/AAAAAAAAA5k/sAb6MocAz7k/s1600/antipodes%252520festival.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584092757347579474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-azjbO-V1Tgc/TX6uxuqItlI/AAAAAAAAA5k/sAb6MocAz7k/s400/antipodes%252520festival.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The first time I learned about Apokries was from a Greek school reader. Apparently, way back in the mystical motherland of ancient gods and foustanella-clad heroes with hooked noses and huge moustaches, just before Great Lent, various carnivals would take place. Looking at my grandmother’s collection of dusty, faded and creased black and white photographs, I would find pictures of youthful looking great aunts and uncles dressed in an array of fine costumes, for as my grandmother explained, this is what is done during this time.&lt;br /&gt;Such an activity as a carnival in my mind, could only be equated with the annual Moomba celebration in Melbourne and getting around a proper Hellenic setting for a bird-man rally proved a Herculean task. (Though given that our very own Icarus invented the bird-man rally, perhaps we should look at reviving this as a sport. Contestants could be borne upon the hot air emanating from endless Greek community speech making and debating). Brotherhood masquerade dances held before Lent could not reproduce the street atmosphere of such carnivals as that of Patra, try as they might, that is until now.&lt;br /&gt;Regardless of the splutterings of the militant grey wing of the Bring Back Stalin fan club, intent upon perpetuating a discord between the Greek Orthodox Community of Melbourne and the Archdiocese which is no longer relevant and which does not exist, moving the Antipodes Festival this year to coincide with the Apokries was a masterstroke of ingenuity. Not only did this translate to greater publicity and less opposition from other festivals transpiring at the same time as the old date, but participants were provided with an opportunity to finally celebrate en masse, a venerable tradition that provides ample opportunities for fun.&lt;br /&gt;Or so it would seem. Waking up at 6 in the morning to make one’s way down to Lonsdale Street, bleary eyed and semi conscious in order to set up the Panepirotic Federation’s Cultural stall may not appear fun at first. Indeed, arriving in the said street, only to find one’s president hard at work presdigitating drills, screws and other tools of trade in order to construct a frame from which to plausibly recreate a traditional Epirotic home, replete with such paraphernalia as the argalios, or wooden loom on which we had a traditionally clad exponent providing demonstrations of weaving, (- don’t try putting one together unless you are a) good at Lego, or b) excel in 900 piece puzzles – I fail dismally on both counts) and also the yataghan of the last Ottoman pasha of Ioannina, can also plausibly make one to appear less than mirthful. Nonetheless. We girded our loins and did battle, assisted by our veneral mascot, the foustanella wearing octogenarian Giorgos Konstantinidis, who is apt to break out into frenetic tsamiko moves without notice and who has a remarkable propensity for seducing (or rather coercing) Asian partakers of the festival into the intricacies of Epirotic dance.&lt;br /&gt;Wearing a foustanella and acquiring the skills of basic carpentry is no mean feat, especially when mine, which hails from the mountainous region of Tzoumerka is made of wool and wears a tonne, as do the silver kiousteki across the chest and asimosougia which hangs from one’s belt (the nineteenth century Epirotic equivalent of bling). Nonetheless, assuming my alter ego as Supervlach over the two days of the festival, I was heartened by the appearance of other foustanella clad individuals who donned their distinct attire, having seen me in mine last year, and having found that they could improve upon my vision. One of these in particular was brave enough to enter into the Zorba till you drop competition and was able to hold his own, until his tsarouchia failed him. We are now in the process of forming a foustanella-wearers club, which will be out vehicle for lobbying for the free and fair wearing of the said garment for all. The working title of our group is “Men in Skirts,” reinforcing Aether-treader’s argument in Saturday’s Neos Kosmos that moving the festival to coincide with the carnival permits everyone, and not only the Diatribist, to wear a skirt in the heart of Melbourne and like it. This is multiculturalism at its very cross-dressing at its best and kudos must be ascribed to other members of the community who came dressed in diverse party costumes, lending a truly festive, carnival atmosphere to the weekend.&lt;br /&gt;Cross-dressing was at the heart of the carnival atmosphere which was all pervading this year. The indefatigable youth of the Pan-Macedonian Association, the Cretan Federation, Pontiaki Estia, the GOCMV dance group, the Panepirotic Federation and many others did what must be done at carnival time – they turned the natural order of things upside down through the re-enactment of age old customs with a lewd theme, including staging mock-weddings where the brides are men and the grooms women, proudly carrying around batons in the shape of an elongated phallus, singing songs with bawdy lyrics, running through the crowd masked with bells on, coercing people into sticking feathers into potatoes- a Pontian Lenten custom, delighting everyone in the novelty of what we should have been celebrating all these years. All this took place at the Marble Centre Plateia, a dedicated area for cultural associations. The creation of such dedicated zones was inspirational as it permitted the performance of Apokriatika customs and live musical entertainment, unhindered by other pursuits. What it did result in was the co-operation of all the various Associations to the extent where dancers where assisting and performing in each other’s acts. The goodwill generated as a result of this merging and mingling is incalculable.&lt;br /&gt;Children too, played a central role in this year’s festival. At their dedicated stage, community stalwarts such as Dina Gerolymou and Anthe Sidiropoulos told stories, sang songs and engaged kids in the more delightful and fun aspects of Greek culture. The multi-talented Joseph Tsombanopoulos, replete with his goat headed gaida and yours truly accompanying him on the violin, along with a papier-mache camel of dubious reputation and provenance led a procession of masked and face-painted children through the street and up to the central stage. When they entered the stage, they were deified by an adoring crowd, as they should be. Chances are, given a warm reception and plenty of activities centred around their interests, that they will want to come again and again.&lt;br /&gt;A novel idea was the dedication of a separate area for the glorification of the Greek cuisine – not only through the successful Greek coffee-making competition but also through the presence of masterchefs, and exhibitions of traditional regional foods from Greece, such as Epirotic pita and Cretan kaltsounia. This is definitely an area that begs expanding, or perhaps, its own spin off festival, involving all regions of Greece.&lt;br /&gt;A successful multicultural Greek-Australian carnival serves two main purposes: firstly to unite and entertain the Greek community – a task in which the Festival organisers acquitted themselves well given the mass participation of people, the diversity of entertainment, and the palpable sense of festivity and party in the air, but secondly to make all that is deemed ours, accessible to the wider community.&lt;br /&gt;It is here that this Festival was particularly successful. Because the Apokries is a little known fixture on the Greek calendar, visitors were granted a deeper and alternative vision of a vibrant Greek culture without the stereotype of souvlaki and sterile Ancient Greek allusions. Furthermore, this year, as never before, they were able to fully participate in the activities, for fun speaks all languages. I was heartened by the throngs passing by the Epirotic stall and enthused by the many questions asked, mostly by students and visiting tourists – for this renders our Festival, a major tourist attraction. Being propositioned for photos in one’s skirt by sundry Saudian Arabian girls is not intrinsically a bad thing and I found that there was much common ground in the traditions of both our cultures.&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend, we Zorba’d till we dropped, sang, ate, joked and revelled as never before. We did so in a good natured way, unblighted by any of infighting, politicking that has plagued our endeavours historically. This year’s festival is proof of what can be achieved when we work together as one and constitutes a roadmap for future, improved endeavours. We take leave of you now, gentle reader, showering glory and acclamation upon our carnival king and queen, Leonidas Vlahakis and Tammy Iliou, the festival directors, for their brilliant work and in the home of many more years of proud foustanella wearing. Party on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday, 12 March 2011&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-5610987351079142020?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/5610987351079142020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=5610987351079142020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/5610987351079142020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/5610987351079142020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/03/les-antipodes-apocreatiques.html' title='LES ANTIPODES APOCREATIQUES'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-azjbO-V1Tgc/TX6uxuqItlI/AAAAAAAAA5k/sAb6MocAz7k/s72-c/antipodes%252520festival.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-9092508479225889786</id><published>2011-03-05T08:36:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2011-03-09T08:38:32.109+10:30</updated><title type='text'>NORTHERN EPIRUS IS NOT A DIRTY WORD</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rCZyvXR6Rqs/TXaokfjqN3I/AAAAAAAAA5c/uJPy_26lHG0/s1600/800px-Flag_of_Northern_Epirus.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581834133072131954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rCZyvXR6Rqs/TXaokfjqN3I/AAAAAAAAA5c/uJPy_26lHG0/s400/800px-Flag_of_Northern_Epirus.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Way back in 1960, just around the time when the leader of the USSR Nikita Khrushchev suggested to the paranoid leader of Stalinist Albania Enver Hoxha that autonomy be granted to Northern Epirus, as the majority population in this region along the border with Greece, was of ethnic Greek origin, George Papandreou, the grandfather of the current Greek Prime Minister, known also by the sobriquet: “Grandfather of the Republic,” said the following in Parliament:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“What all Greek Governments need to know is that the Northern Epirus issue continues to exist. And what should be forbidden down the ages, is the denial of our sacred claims. With regards to Northern Epirus, these claims are sacred and indelible.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Fast forward some fifty years later to the government of George Papandreou’s grandson and his namesake, and a totally different state of affairs exists. Recently the Greek Consul in the southern city of Korytsa (Korçë), Theodoros Oikonomou-Kamarinos was recalled to Athens in disgrace after mentioning at a meeting celebrating the twentieth anniversary of the founding of the ethnic Greek political party OMONOIA in that city, that &lt;em&gt;“this region is referred to as Northern Epirus,” and that “your grandfathers were Greek.”&lt;/em&gt; That the grandfathers of members of the Greek minority in Korytsa were Greek seems axiomatic. During 1914, bloody battles between Greeks and Albanians took place in order to secure the city for the autonomous Greek state of Northern Epirus and Korytsa’s inclusion within that state was agreed to by the Albanian government of the time. Further, between 1916-1918, the region of Korytsa was annexed by Greece and local representatives represented the region in the Greek parliament. As late as 1940, the Greek inhabitants of Korytsa jubilantly welcomed the Greek army into their city, fighting off the Italian invaders. The Greeks are therefore…Greek.&lt;br /&gt;Enver Hoxha did not consider the Greeks of Korytsa to be Greek. When he created a small minority zone – the only region in which the Greek language could be taught or spoken – he made sure to include only one hundred villages along the valley of Dropoli and exclude most Greek inhabited territory from it. As a result, the Greeks of Cheimarra on the west coast, the Greeks of Premeti, Korytsa and Moschopoli were denied education in their language for fifty years. For some strange reason, these Greeks continued to remember that they were Greeks. Paradoxically, considering that they possessed the same culture and history as the Greeks south of the border, they, north of the border, considered themselves to be living in Northern Epirus. Funnily enough, there exist maps and treatises from Roman times that corroborate their claims. Epirus is a geographical and cultural entity that extends from the Ambracic gulf to the gulf of Avlona. It is not, unless defined as such by nation states, a political entity.&lt;br /&gt;The Greek government would disagree. Ever since the PASOK government came to power, it has displayed a marked aversion to use of the term Northern Epirus, despite the fact that this is the term by which Greeks of the region identify themselves. In its inept attempts to pacify and conciliate Albanian governments who from time to time raise irredentist claims concerning western Epirus, the Greek government has taken upon itself the Orwellian task of making use of the term Northern Epirus a thoughtcrime –considering all those who employ it, rabid nationalists.&lt;br /&gt;This could be excusable if successive Greek governments had a coherent policy concerning the Greeks of Northern Epirus and the rest of Albania, but they have, over the decades, proved they have not. Since the eighties, government representatives purported the fiction that Stalinist Albania was a worker’s paradise, that no Greeks lived there and that if they did, they were more privileged than the Greeks in Greece. Consequently in 1987, the official state of war existing between Albania and Greece since the forties was declared over, without the Greek government extracting any concessions as to the protection of human rights of the Greeks in Albania and ever since, Greek government policy in the region could be characterised as a mixture of inept meddling in and undermining the Greek minority’s attempts to organise themselves politically, while making no real attempt to safeguard their rights as a minority.&lt;br /&gt;This deprecating attitude towards Northern Epirus and its people can also be evidenced by Greek consulate representatives here in Australia. In a manner eerily akin to the brave Consul Kamarinos, I was warned by a former Greek Consul-General that I had better: &lt;em&gt;“stop talking about Northern Epirus, or there would be consequences.”&lt;/em&gt; Another, relatively benign and friendly Consul General once remarked to me: &lt;em&gt;“So what do you want us to do? To invade Albania, kill the Albanians, and make room for the Northern Epirots?”&lt;/em&gt; Try as we might, we have never been able to convince Greek officials that the fact that hundreds of thousands of Greeks just across the border are subject to a corrupt regime that cannot protect and sometimes cynically abrogates basic rights such as the right to free elections, the right to Greek education and the right to non-discrimination is of grave concern. For them, the whole issue is a joke.&lt;br /&gt;Why should Greece attempt to prohibit use of the term “Northern Epirus,” thus denying to its people, the right to self-identification? Why is this term considered offensive and having expansionist connotations when at the same time we freely use terms such as Constantinople (instead of Istanbul), Asia Minor, (instead of Turkiye), or Pontus (instead of Karadeniz Bölgesi), without consideration as to whether these carry similar connotations to a larger and eminently more important neighbour? Obviously this inconsistency can only be explained by cynical, arbitrary policy considerations, not reality.&lt;br /&gt;What the pompous and short-sighted Greek officials who have recalled the feisty and unrepentant Consul Kamarinos to Athens for discipline fail to realise in their arrogance is the fact that for over half a decade, the Greeks of Northern Epirus have been isolated and have stoically retained their Hellenism under the most harrowing conditions – treated as class enemies owing to their bourgeois pursuits and as enemies of the state owing to their ethnic affiliation. These are the descendants of Zappas, Tositsas and so many other benefactors who donated their entire estates towards the construction of the public buildings of Athens and the founding of the modern Greek state. Today, their beneficiaries, the bureaucrats and the politicians show their gratitude by pouring scorn upon their people and abandoning them to their fate, despite their valiant efforts to cling to their identity. They, and those who are concerned for them are, for neo-Hellenes, nothing more than objects of derision.&lt;br /&gt;The arrogance of Greek officials who persecute those of their brethren who seek to encourage and console their compatriots comes at a most crucial point in the history of Northern Epirus. Finally, after years of refusing to do so, the Albanian government is poised to conduct a census that will reveal much about the status of minorities within that country. All Consul Kamarinos wanted to do, was to remind his long suffering compatriots that he recognizes their heritage and encourage them not to be afraid to freely express this. His masters in Athens however, have other ideas, none of them coherent.&lt;br /&gt;What the Greek foreign ministry implies, by its conduct, is that there is no point for Greeks living without the borders of Greece to cling to their traditions and their customs for these are considered quaint by the metropolis and our efforts of no value. If ever the time comes that we will need protection and a voice of support, it is questionable, in the light of the abandonment of the Northern Epirots – a group of people who have contributed to the welfare of Greece far more than us, whether we will find it in our country of origin.&lt;br /&gt;It is sad that there is so much truth in the Cheimarriot folk song: &lt;em&gt;«Τα Γιάννενα ονειρεύονται, η Κρήτη ξαποσταίνει, βουβή η Θεσσαλονίκη, η Αθήνα ξεφαντώνει... Ποιος βογγάει σα να πεθαίνη; -Χειμάρρα, όλορθη.»&lt;/em&gt; It is also sad that we, along with brave Consul Kamarinos were led to believe that our culture included values of solidarity, concern and mutual assistance. We have Greek officialdom to thank, for disabusing us of our illusions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 5 March 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-9092508479225889786?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/9092508479225889786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=9092508479225889786' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/9092508479225889786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/9092508479225889786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/03/northern-epirus-is-not-dirty-word.html' title='NORTHERN EPIRUS IS NOT A DIRTY WORD'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rCZyvXR6Rqs/TXaokfjqN3I/AAAAAAAAA5c/uJPy_26lHG0/s72-c/800px-Flag_of_Northern_Epirus.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-2052197157012907547</id><published>2011-02-20T08:33:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2011-02-22T08:36:24.484+10:30</updated><title type='text'>PYTHEAS THE REAL ODYSSEUS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9IpCGCyawzQ/TWLhzvM9pwI/AAAAAAAAA5M/dKuKdAWdJbk/s1600/24702_Pytheas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576267567598511874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 210px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9IpCGCyawzQ/TWLhzvM9pwI/AAAAAAAAA5M/dKuKdAWdJbk/s400/24702_Pytheas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;From the voyages of Odysseus to those of Jason and the Argonauts and Alexander of Macedon’s demented attempts to rule the ends of the Earth, it cannot be disputed that ancient Greeks were afflicted with a great wanderlust, a burning desire to probe the very ends of the Cosmos and discover the ends of their world. It was this wanderlust, coupled with social and economic crisii that caused the Greeks to found colonies throughout Asia Minor and the Black Sea.&lt;br /&gt;Pytheas, living in the fourth century BC, was a direct product of wanderlust. His was a world of commerce and the fringe, born and raised in Massalia, a Phocaean colony upon the borders of the ‘civilised’ world, nowadays the important French port of Marseilles. Today his bust is framed in a temple-like niche in the façade of the Marseilles Bourse, along with his compatriot Euthymenes, who is said to have explored the west coast of Africa as far as Senegal.&lt;br /&gt;Pytheas on the other hand, is said to have sailed north, bringing back tales of the tin-producing lands (Britain?), islands where amber was washed up by the sea (the Baltic Coast?) and in the far, far north, Thule (Iceland?) where the ocean waters congealed. Where if anywhere Pytheas actually journeyed to, has been the subject of heated debate throughout the centuries. Later Greek commentators expressed incredulity at his claims, conflicting as they did with pre-existing notions of geography and natural phenomena.&lt;br /&gt;Nevertheless, Pytheas occupies the place of honour high on the front of the Bourse, heavily cloaked against the northern cold, survey gear in his left hand and a beefy right arm folded across his body in a stance of aggressive protection as he stares steadfastly into the distance, out to sea. A charlatan or a heroic adventurer? A mere collector of anecdotes or an original observational scientist?&lt;br /&gt;No one will ever no for sure. Pytheas documented his epic voyages in his lengthy tome «Περί του Ωκεανού,» (On the Ocean.) Unfortunately, this volume was destroyed with the burning of the Great Library of Alexandria This notwithstanding, it was quoted by at least eighteen other writers over the next 900 years. How many of them actually had access to the original text or were quoting from secondary sources is unknown. It is certain however, that like a game of Chinese whispers, Pytheas’ original observations appear to have become garbled and misunderstood, when viewed through the prism of modern science. Or such is the interpretation of those who believe.&lt;br /&gt;At any rate, when On the Ocean was published about 320BC, it must have been a shocking book. The Greeks knew virtually nothing about what lay beyond the Pillars of Hercules (Gibraltar). They knew that Europe faced the Ocean which circled the world. They also knew that from somewhere along these mysterious badlands came tin, amber and gold. Yet neither were most Greeks concerned about what lay beyond the boundaries of the Mediterranean world – the lands of the barbarians people so backward they could not even speak Greek but brayed like animals.&lt;br /&gt;Pytheas may well have been the first Greek to be curious enough to travel among the ‘barbarians’ to the limits of the inhabitable world and to publish a description of what he saw. The scraps that survive of Pytheas’ account are the earliest descriptions we have of Brittany, the British Isles and the eastern coasts of the North Sea.&lt;br /&gt;It is not difficult to speculate on what excited Pytheas’ interest in the north. In the fourth century, Massalia was not only a Mediterranean trading hub, but also a main artery of trade with the Celts of France. Greek amphorae and crafts have been found throughout the length of the River Garonne. In exchange, the Celts would have traded tin and mysterious amber, along with strange tales of the amber rich, tin producing northern isles. It was enough to tantalize any intreprid explorer.&lt;br /&gt;Polybius, a Greek historian writing a century after Pytheas, noted that Pytheas, not a wealthy man, must have depended on the patronage of a wealthy Greek merchant to acquire, outfit and provision his ship. That merchant was undoubtedly interested in tin ("kassiteros" in Greek) which, when blended with copper, produced the highly prized and valuable bronze.&lt;br /&gt;For centuries, the Kassiterides Islands (British Isles) were well known to the Phoenicians as a principal source of tin. Herodotus, the ancient Greek historian (484-425BC) had reported that their boats sailed through the Pillars of Hercules (Straits of Gibraltar), then north along the coast of France to an area now known as Cornwall, England. Pytheas decided to find these islands on his own, to locate the fabled sources of tin and to search for new deposits. While, ostensibly, his purpose was to bring back a load of tin for profit, Pytheas had the heart and mind of a true explorer. He was curious to see and visit the islands, of which he had heard rumours, to explore what lay beyond and to return and tell the world of his findings.&lt;br /&gt;Luckily for us and for his future posterity, Pytheas was possessed of two attributes that allow us to verify his claims. First and foremost, because of his training as a mathematician and astronomer, Pytheas had acquired the important discipline of observing and recording his findings. Second, as a ships navigator, he had mastered the use of the "Gnomon," an instrument described by Herodotus, borrowed from the Phoenicians, and brought to Greece during the sixth century by Anaximander.&lt;br /&gt;With the Gnomon, ancient navigators were able to navigate away from the sight of land and to perform astounding calculations. Pytheas was the first person we know by name to have used it to calculate the latitude of Massalia, which he found to be 43' 1 I' North, almost matching the true figure of 43' 18'North for modern day Marseilles. The ability to record the precise location of different sites along his travels proved invaluable to him, helped him to establish the accuracy of his log, and provided the proof needed for modern day historians to confirm his writings.&lt;br /&gt;In order to avoid the Phoenicians who had blockaded the Mediterranean, Pytheas is held to have sailed, for five full days from Massalia to the Pillars of Hercules before turning north to the Kassiterides Isles. But did he. Why waste time circumnavigating the Iberian Peninsula in fear of a hostile force? Strabo, the ancient geographer records the scientist Eratosthenes as quoting Pytheas’ work in stating that the northern parts of Iberia (Spain) offer easier passage to Keltiki (France) than if you sail by the Ocean.” On the balance of probabilities., it would seem that Pytheas trekked across France.&lt;br /&gt;Arriving at Burdigala, Pytheas is likely to have looked for native transport to take him northwards. For this next stage of his journey, we have some geographical precision, though in a garbled form, quoted by Strabo. The essence of what Pytheas seems to have recorded in his original book is the existence of a long westerly projection of the European mainland, a «κύρτωμα» or ‘hump’ “of length not less than 3,000 stades.” At its Atlantic extremity there were “various promontories, as well as islands of it, the farthest, Ouexisame, lying three days sailing away.” Strabo believing this not to conform with his preconception of European geography, dismissed these observations as fabrications. Yet the real geography is not is doubt. The ‘hump’ must be Brittany, in which case its westernmost island is likely to be Ushant, a vital marker for anyone navigating the dangerous coastline of the region. How long Pytheas stayed in Brittany is unknown. Greek-style columns have been found in the north of France and it is tempting to make a link…More likely, these are locally produced items, inspired by what Celtic traders would have seen in their contacts with the Masssaliot Greeks.&lt;br /&gt;The journey from Brittany to Britain, a distance of some 95 nautical miles could have been accomplished within a twenty four hour sailing. Yet our sources for this voyage, Strabo and Diodoros Sicilus are silent on the actual Channel crossing. What we do get however from Sicilus, is Pytheas’ detailed account of tin-mining and the geography of western Britain. It deserves to be quoted in full:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"The inhabitants of Britain who live on the promontory called Belerion… work the tin, treating the layer which contains it in an ingenious way. This layer… contains earthy seams and in them workers quarry the ore which they then melt down to clean from its impurities. They then work the tin into pieces the size of knuckle-bones and convey it to an island that lies off Britain: Ictis; for at ebb-tide the space between this island and the mainland becomes dry and they can take the tin in large quantities over to the island in their wagons… On the island of Ictis, the merchants buy the tin from the natives and carry it from there across the Strait of Galatia (the English Channel)..”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Archaeological investigation has revealed intensive tin mining in ancient times on the promontory of Cornwall and especially on Mount Patten in Plymouth Sound. Joined to the mainland today by a low-lying narrow coastal strip, it appears to have been an island in ancient times and the range of Late Bronze Age artifacts found within it and the many artifacts of Aquitanian (southern France) leads many scholars to believe that it was Pytheas’ trading island, Ictis. It must have been a time of great excitement for Pytheas at last to arrive at the source where the tin he had heard so much about was extracted. If the Sicilus text is correct, it appears he obtained a detailed, firsthand knowledge of its processing.&lt;br /&gt;Pytheas must have explored the coastline of Britain thoroughly. His observations, again quoted in the work of Sicilus, provide compelling evidence of his circumnavigation of Britain: &lt;em&gt;“Britain is triangular in shape, like Sicily but its sides are not equal. Of the sides of Britain the shortest, which extends along Europe, is 7,500 stades [1,400km], the second, from the Strait to the tip is 15,000 stades [2,800km] and the last is 20,000 stades [2,800km] so that the entire circuit of the island amounts to 42,500 stades [7,900km].”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Polybius, in his Geography quotes Pytheas as reckoning the perimeter of the island to be 40,000 stades. This would work out at 7,400km, remarkably close to the length of the British coastline given in the Encyclopaedia Brittanica as being 7,580km. This remarkable feat of calculation must certainly lend credence to Pytheas’ claim, dismissed so contemptuously by Polybius that he &lt;em&gt;“traversed the whole of Britanniki by foot.”&lt;/em&gt; Furthermore, in order to take such accurate measurements Pyrtheas must have sailed around Britain. One of his calculations of latitude survives in the works of Hipparchus as 54˚ 14΄, roughly around Scarborough in northern Britain and another, around the island of Lewis in the extreme north of Scotland. Further, he records journeys to the Orkneys island where he records tidal waters swelling to a height of 35 metres, a phenomenon created by low barometric pressures that still exists today.&lt;br /&gt;We have further evidence that Pytheas actually traversed Britain and lived among its inhabitants. He has left behind tantalizing snippets of anthropological information. Strabo scorned his description of the customs of those who lived in the ‘chilly zone’ and who made a drink from grain (beer?) and who threshed their grain in large storehouses, owing to the scarcity of sunlight in their lands. Sicilus’ quotations of Pytheas are even more telling:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Britain… is inhabited by tribes who are indigenous and preserve in their way of life the ancient custom. They use chariots in their wars … and their houses are simple, of reeds and timbers. Their way of harvesting grain is to cut off only the heads and store them in roofed buildings and each day they select the ripened heads and grind them for food.. Their lifestyle is modest… the island is thickly populated and its climate is extremely cold… It is held by many kings and aristocrats who generally live at peace with each other.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Excavations on Orkney and Stromness corroborate Pytheas’ descriptions of ancient British life. Julius Caesar centuries later was impressed at the versatility of British war chariots and the fragmentation of Britain into small kingdoms is well attested in Celtic mythology.&lt;br /&gt;All types of events and strange stories were reported by Pytheas. One such "incredible" story, which he reported, told him by the inhabitants of northern Scotland, was about the presence of a place to the north where there were only two or three hours of night during parts of the year, and another place even further north where the sun shone all night long. This was at Thule, in the extreme north, which scholars conjecture must have been Iceland.&lt;br /&gt;Before the readers makes glottal sounds of incredulity, it should be noted that Roman coins have been found in various parts of Iceland and that there are records and archaeological evidence of Irish monks travelling to Ireland before the seventh century AD. Their technology was of no greater sophistication than those of the Massaliot Greeks. Nevertheless, while stating that Pytheas believed Thule to be the last place on earth to be inhabited, Strabo categorically states in his Geography that he was a liar. Yet the evidence compellingly inclines to the opposite conclusion.&lt;br /&gt;Travelling north from Scotland, Pytheas encountered a cluster of small islands where he reported seeing large, boat-size fish, lazily swimming on the surface and loudly blowing out sprays of water. Incredibly as this may have been to Pytheas and his crew, who had probably never seen a whale before, such pods of whales are common to those waters. He reported sailing six days northwest towards Iceland (Thule) where he encountered dense fog described as so thick and eerily quiet that the ship and the sea seemed suspended in a void. He recorded the presence of water and slush ice that "binds all together, and can be travelled neither on foot nor by boat". This condition would not permit him to go further and forced him to turn back. He also noted , as is recorded in Pliny’s Natural History, that the areas of the extreme north had protracted periods of light and darkness, being so near to the North Pole. This, not only tends to indicate Pytheas actually was in Iceland, but also an understanding that the world is spherical in shape, an idea developed by several Greeks at this time.&lt;br /&gt;. On his return journey, Sicilus and Timaeus record Pytheas as having landed on a vast promontory- Abalus. Here “the sea throws up a quantity of amber that appears nowhere in the world.” Pliny also describes Pytheas as explaining how amber is formed. His highly detailed account could not have been made unless he had spoken with the natives and seen for himself how the substance was collected. On the basis of his observations, scholars speculate that he must have landed in Jutland, Denmark, a noted amber producing area.&lt;br /&gt;No one will ever know what homecoming Pytheas received when he returned home. Did he launch on more epic voyages or remained at home, recounting his exploits in sailor’s taverns ad nauseum? What is known is that despite the incredulity of many scholars and geographers of the time, Pytheas’ On the Ocean soon became a classic, used by diverse authors, including Apollonius of Rhodes who used Pytheas’ account to write his epic poem Argonautika. His astronomical observations in the North Sea were quoted with approval by the father of heliocentric cosmology, Eratosthenes. The ancient authors record Pytheas as also having written a book on underwater activity in Sicily’s Aeolian Islands. An ancient Jacques Cousteau he must have been entranced and enthralled by the science of the Sea, the first of many who dared to be different and whose achievement was so vast that it could never lapse into obscurity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE in two parts on Saturday 20 February 2011 and 27 February 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-2052197157012907547?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/2052197157012907547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=2052197157012907547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2052197157012907547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2052197157012907547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/02/pytheas-real-odysseus.html' title='PYTHEAS THE REAL ODYSSEUS'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9IpCGCyawzQ/TWLhzvM9pwI/AAAAAAAAA5M/dKuKdAWdJbk/s72-c/24702_Pytheas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-4590619773408495463</id><published>2011-02-12T11:00:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2011-02-17T11:02:37.318+10:30</updated><title type='text'>LORD OF THE LYRA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O8T_ohkKs-k/TVxslW0gSDI/AAAAAAAAA5E/T9XL50ttsqE/s1600/makos24.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574449827814590514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 366px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O8T_ohkKs-k/TVxslW0gSDI/AAAAAAAAA5E/T9XL50ttsqE/s400/makos24.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"What I want to do, is to show how ένα τόσο δα σκατουλάκι όργανο, can have applications beyond our wildest dreams."&lt;/em&gt; When Doctor Matthaios Tsahouridis speaks about his Pontian lyra, known in Turkish as kemence, his brilliant blue eyes become remarkably keen and his mouth remains half open in ecstasy, as he strokes the strings of his instrument with the sensitivity and possessiveness of an impassioned lover.&lt;br /&gt;There are two types of musician - the failures, like me, for whom the instrument is an opponent and a foe, a wild beast that must be vanquished and coerced into making sounds that are akin to a cross between the violin stylings of Colonel Klink and the screams of a constipated Harpy - and those, like Matthaios, for whom their instrument is an extension of themselves, a natural sounding post from which the melody of the beauty of their souls can resonate within the wider world. In Matthaios' case, the observation is an apt one, since his latest project, a fusion of musical inspirations, with his equally talented brother Konstantinos, is entitled «Ψυχή και Σώμα.» As the name denotes, he gives his music at all and it is carefully calculated to wring those hidden heartstrings hidden under the layers of bitterness, guilt, anger and frustration that silt up one's soul during the drudgery of everyday existence, conferring musical absolution upon us all. And all this, mind you, on the most unlikely of instruments: the Pontian Lyra.&lt;br /&gt;For unlike most interpreters of the Lyra, who seek merely to mechanically parrot traditional tunes and keep them in suspended animation in a time prior to the Genocide, Matthaios, deeply infused with all the manifold aspects of the music of the Black Sea, has absorbed it, understood it and remoulded it into something strikingly new and contemporary. His remarkable exploration of the tributaries and unknown paths of Pontian music, coupled with an eagerness to test its versatility, rather than preserving it, as most Pontians tend to do, in the vacuum of a ghetto culture, of marginal relevance to the rest of the world, have been the yardstick by which his luminous musical career has developed. Born in Veroia, he displayed his musical promise early, winning the First Prize in a Pan-Hellenic Music Competition, organized by the Greek Ministry of Education at the Athens Concert Hall in May 1996. In June 1997 he was awarded a scholarship by the Bishop of Veroia, in order to continue his music studies in London. The generosity of this gesture is something that Matthaios has never forgotten. Upon arriving in Adelaide this month and unpacking his suitcase, the first thing he did was to place a photograph of his mentor, the Bishop, on his bedside table.&lt;br /&gt;After successfully completing his Bachelor Degree in Music Studies and his Masters in Ethnomusicology, in 2003 he was awarded a scholarship by the 'Michael Marks Charitable Trust' for his doctoral research in the field of Performance Practice. Since December 2007, Matthaios holds a PhD in Performance Practice titled 'The Pontic Lyra in Contemporary Greece', one of the first PhD theses in the UK referring to the performance practice of non-western traditional musical instruments and the first PhD worldwide about the Pontic lyra, its origin, music, repertory, performance techniques and musical possibilities. Here then is the magic and grandeur of Pontic music made accessible to a world stage.&lt;br /&gt;Proof of the pudding is Matthaios' unlikely rendition of Greek folk songs on the lyra. His performance is low key, yet eminently subversive. One gets the feeling that he is merely toying with his audience, sounding them out in order to draw out their preconceived assumptions and musical prejudices, before exploding them with three strokes of his bow, as with a wry smile, he turns to playing laika, songs by the Turkish singer Ibrahim Tatlises (you thought no one would notice, didn't you?) and then culminates in an amazing rendition of Bolero, followed by some free-styling jazz. Truly then, this instrument in his hands, is a universal one.&lt;br /&gt;Given then his global outlook, it is fitting then that Matthaios should also turn his virtuosity to instruments that belong to the same family as his weapon of choice. He has mastered the violin, laouto, oud, bouzouki, guitar, Persian kamancheh, Afghan rubab, as well as the Afghan and the Uzbek ghichaks. Now, after a particularly sordid and musically excruciating encounter with yours truly, he is turning his mind further east, to the Chinese erhu.&lt;br /&gt;Considering Matthaios globe-trotting career, we are privileged to have had the rapture of his performance in Adelaide, Melbourne and Sydney this month. When juxtaposed against his peripatetic mission to gain worldwide appreciation for the capabilities of the Pontic lyra, the various unfortunate attempts by certain local compatriots to employ his visit as a means for furthering endo-tribal strife are sad to say the least and have not left, in this world famous virtuoso, an impression of ourselves, that we would have found flattering.&lt;br /&gt;Truly, the scope of his vision is breathtaking. In January 2005 Matthaios won the British Arts Foundation Fellowship Award 2005 as the best UK performer-instrumentalist, working in a non-western musical tradition. He has performed at WOMAD Music Festival in Reading, WOMEX World Music Expo in Rotterdam (Holland 2001), Roskilder Rock festival (Denmark 2002), Teatro Massimo for UNESCO (Palermo Opera House, Italy 2002), Royal Albert Hall (charity concert for the Children of Afghanistan, London 2002) and at the Royal Festival Hall at London's Southbank Arts Centre. In August 2004, he also performed the main music theme of the BBC television for the coverage of the Olympic Games of Athens 2004.&lt;br /&gt;In the same year, Matthaios collaborated with Ostad Ardeshir Kamkar on the Persian kamancheh in Tehran. In May 2005 he performed at Herodus Atticus Theatre in Acropolis, Athens, accompanied by ERT Contemporary Symphony Orchestra for the opening ceremony of the Athens Festival.In 2006, Matthaios was the co-artistic director for the opening ceremony of the International Byzantine Congress of London with Prince Charles as Patron. In March 2007 he performed at the Porchester Hall (Bayswater, London) with Cat Stevens, a man he describes as humble and throroughly inspiring. In March 2008, he performed the lyra as a solo artist at the Royal Albert Hall with one of his most successful projects called 'Journey Beyond Borders', with Hussein Zahawy and Yusuf Mahmoud while in July 2008 he performed at the Athens and Epidaurus Festival with Ostad Shahram Nazeri and Ostad Ali Akbar Moradi. In October 2008 he was a soloist with the ERT Symphony Orchestra of Contemporary Music at Thessaloniki's Song Festival Context with Classical Greek music composer Mimis Plessas and his brother Konstantinos on vocals. Further, in November 2008 he performed with Swiss singer Yasmin Tamara well-known Hollywood Melodies accompanied by Ukraine Symphony Orchestra at Victoria Hall, Geneva. His appearance as a solo artist at the Art Palace Centre of Suleimaniye in Iraq in February 2009, a comman performance for the Iraqi president makes him the first Greek musician to visit and perform in Iraq after the war. And all this, mind you, at thirty three years of age.&lt;br /&gt;It takes a certain amount of courage and purity of soul to expose and not conceal one's internal world. It takes a great deal of intelligence and understanding to synthesize and tie that internal world to a corpus of a tradition. In just three decades, Doctor Matthaios Tsahouridis has become the leading world exponent of a hitherto obscure musical medium. To these visionaries, whose conception of their art (not to mention Greek culture) is so generous in scope that they would have the entire globe rejoice in it as much as they do, that we should ascribe glory, for they will ensure that the wealth of our tradition, presented in such a way as to guarantee a positive reception, will enthral audiences and instil in them, an understanding of us that only comes from the musical dissolution of linguistic and other barriers.&lt;br /&gt;The kemence rumour mill alludes to a command performance by the languid lyrist for Prince William and his bride to be. Nonetheless, in the immediate future, his is departing Antipodean climes for an Iranian fusion performance at the Casa dela Cultura Iraniana, Venice, Italy. Diatribe wishes Matthaios well, for in his brief sojourn in Melbourne, he has permitted us to catch a fleeting glimpse at the divine, pausing only to point out that while ruminating over things musical, he mentioned: &lt;em&gt;"I need a new act name. What would you suggest."&lt;/em&gt; Without hesitation, I reposted: &lt;em&gt;"Lord of the Lyra,"&lt;/em&gt; conjuring up images of Pontian-clad clones of Michael Flatley pounding and gyrating around him on stage. &lt;em&gt;"I like it,"&lt;/em&gt; he smiled, &lt;em&gt;"I may use it."&lt;/em&gt; Little does he know that in a Pontian cave, far far away, a solitary, wizened and long bearded Pontian is gloating over his instruments, cackling: &lt;em&gt;"One Lyra to rule them all, One Lyra to find them, One Lyra to bring them all and in the darkness bind them, In the Land of Melbourne where the Pontians lie." &lt;/em&gt;Of course, royalities for the use of the name, will be gratefully accepted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 12 February 2011.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-4590619773408495463?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/4590619773408495463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=4590619773408495463' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/4590619773408495463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/4590619773408495463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/02/lord-of-lyra.html' title='LORD OF THE LYRA'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O8T_ohkKs-k/TVxslW0gSDI/AAAAAAAAA5E/T9XL50ttsqE/s72-c/makos24.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-1385475164864875043</id><published>2011-02-05T08:21:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2011-02-07T08:26:11.996+10:30</updated><title type='text'>BAR HEBRAEUS   ܒܪ ܥܒܪܝܐ</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dk_DPO4V8RA/TU8Y2mdgvXI/AAAAAAAAA48/vgn2mer5M7w/s1600/BarEbroyo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570698590396923250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 270px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dk_DPO4V8RA/TU8Y2mdgvXI/AAAAAAAAA48/vgn2mer5M7w/s400/BarEbroyo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; One of the major motifs of my poetry, is the exploration of the historical evolution, adoption and transformation of elements of Hellenic culture in literary traditions of non-Hellenic areas that have been touched somehow by Greek civilization. For while it is often claimed that ours is the parent of Western civilization, I would argue that in fact it is the Middle Eastern civilizations that are united closer to us in kinship and which have drawn more heavily on the corpus of our tradition, whereas with the West, it is more precise to refer to an adoptive, rather than a sanguinary relationship. Indeed, various Middle Eastern cultures including the Jewish, Syriac and Arabic exist in a historic dialectic and continuous process of emancipation from Greek culture.&lt;br /&gt;The process through which elements of Greek civilization are adopted by, inform and ultimately are subsumed into other cultures on the margins of the Greek world is instructive and act as a parallel and commentary to similar processes unfolding here in Australia. Furthermore, the fact that a good number of the Western oriented first generation fail to identify or understand the inferences to Middle Eastern acculturation in my poems provides a most telling and satisfying parallel to the phenomenon of a large number of the first generation failing to see the level of assimilation and/or acculturation of the latter generations is Australia.&lt;br /&gt;If there is one historical persona who inspires me in my delusion of poetical aspiration, then undoubtedly that is Grigorios Bar Ebroyo, known as Bar Hebraeus, an Assyrian bishop, philosopher, poet, grammarian, physician, biblical commentator, historian, and theologian, who lived in Melitene, in Arab territory, on the borders of Byzantine territory in the thirteenth century. A polymath, and scholar, through his works addressing philosophy, poetry, language, history, and theology, he has been called "one of the most learned and versatile of men.” It is through his Syriac translations and discussions of ancient and contemporary Greek writings, real or imagined, that one can gauge the permeation and high esteem of Greek culture into the Middle East.&lt;br /&gt;Born in the village of Ebro in 1226, he began as a boy the study of medicine at the great centre of Hellenic knowledge at Antioch and Tripoli. In 1246 he was consecrated bishop and finally was made primate, or maphrian, of the East in 1264. In this task, he was responsible for keeping alive a millenium old Christian tradition in the face of Muslim intolerance, engaging in a dangerous and delicate balancing act between the Byzantines and the Caliphs. His episcopal duties however did not interfere with his studies. He took advantage of the numerous visitations, which he had to make throughout his vast province, to consult the libraries and converse with the learned men whom he happened to meet. Thus he gradually accumulated an immense erudition, became familiar with almost all branches of secular and religious knowledge, and in many cases thoroughly mastered the bibliography of the various subjects which he undertook to treat.&lt;br /&gt;Just how erudite and all pervasive he cast his eye in search of intellectual stimulation can be evidenced by a perusal of my favourite of his works, the Kethabha dhe-Thunnaye Mighaizjzikhanl, or Book of Entertaining Stories. This is in effect a joke book, something quite surprising for a clergyman. One chapter, proving how important Greece and Greek philosophy is to the Easter world, is entitled “Profitable Sayings of the Greek philosophers,” lists reputed sayings that are profound, such as this attributed to Socrates: &lt;em&gt;“A certain disciple of Socrates said unto him, "How is it that I see in thee no sign of sorrow?"&lt;/em&gt; Socrates replied, &lt;em&gt;"Because I possess nothing for which I should sorrow if it perished. "&lt;/em&gt; It also is a repository of sayings that are rather wicked, such as: &lt;em&gt;“Diogenes saw a harlot's child throwing stones at people, and he said to him, "Throw not stones, lest thou smite thine own father without knowing it."&lt;/em&gt; In the authoritative English translation by Wallis Budge in 1897, some of the more racier stories, are rendered in Latin for the sake of offending readers’ tender morals. His legacy today survives in the equally compendious and prolific prelate of the Church of the East in India, Mar Aprem, who has also published a joke book among his many writings.&lt;br /&gt;Bar Hebraeus’ love of Greek philosophy led him also to write the Kethabha dhe-Bhabhatha or Book of the Pupils of the Eyes, a treatise on logic or dialectics based on the writings of Greek philosophers, which he comments on extensively. This was at a time when the West, in the form of refugees fleeing Byzantium, was only just experiencing a taste of long lost Greek works. In Syria however, these works had been adopted wholesale into the local Aramaic and Arabic cultures for generations. Thus, the prolific prelate continued with his Hewath Hekmetha or Butter of Wisdom, an exposition of the whole philosophy of Aristotle, Sullarat Haunãnãyã or Ascent of the Mind, a treatise on astronomy and cosmography, various commentaries on the medical works of the ancient Greek Galen, explaining how medicine had advanced since his time, as well as a collection of quite remarkable Syriac poems.As if this were not enough, his great encyclopedic work Hewath Hekhmetha, "The Cream of Science", deals with almost every branch of human knowledge, and comprises the whole Aristotelian discipline, after Avicenna and other Arabian writers – a remarkable synthesis which shows the permeation and interpretation of Greek philosophy throughout the East. A further work Teghrath Teghratha, or "Commerce of Commerces", also revisits similar themes, while the Kethabha dhe-Bhabhatha, or Book of the Pupils of the Eyes is an amazing compendium of Greek philosophic thought on logic and dialectics and the Kethabha dhe-Sewadh Sophia, or Book of Speech of Wisdom, a compendium of Greek thought on physics and metaphysics. Bar Hebraeus’ theological works are also significant, coming at a time when the Christians of the Arab world were largely cut off from Byzantium. His Aucar Raze, or "Storehouse of Secrets", is a vast commentary on the entire Bible, both doctrinal and critical. Before giving his doctrinal exposition of a passage, he first considers its critical state. Although he uses the Syriac Peshitta, as a basis, he knows that it is not perfect, and therefore controls it by the Hebrew, the Septuagint, the Greek versions of Symmachus, Theodotion, Aquila, by Oriental versions, Armenian and Coptic, and finally by the other Syriac translations, Heraclean, Philoxenian and especially the Syro-Hexapla. The work of Bar Hebraeus is of prime importance for the recovery of these versions and more specifically for the Hexapla of the great theologian Origen. His exegetical and doctrinal portions are taken from the Greek Fathers and previous Syrian Jacobite theologians, preserving works that would otherwise have been lost to us.&lt;br /&gt;How he could have devoted so much time to such a systematic study of the Greek world, in spite of all the vicissitudes incident to the ensuing Mongol invasion, an extemely traumatic event for the Middle East, is almost beyond comprehension. The main claim of Bar Hebraeus to my admiration is not, in his original productions, but rather in his having preserved and systematized the work of his Greek predecessors, either by way of condensation of by way of direct reproduction. The obscurity that writers of his ilk have endured by a Greek nation obsessed with establishing or ‘proving’ western roots in its vain attempt to obtain legitimacy is decidedly underserved. Give me a prelate who writes jokes such as &lt;em&gt;“Another fool...when his son was being circumcised said to him that was making the cutting, "Cut him little by little, for he hath never before been circumcised," &lt;/em&gt;compared to a stuffy Korais any day.&lt;br /&gt;Bar Hebraeus’ remains lie today in Mar Mattai monastery in Northern Iraq, a most ancient place that has been virtually abandoned due to the dangerous conditions existing in that country for its native Christians. I should feel my debt to him as one of my personal heroes to be partially discharged, should I be able to discover a Greek rendering of his title, maphrian. Μαφριανός, to my taste, sounds decidedly cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday, 5 February 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-1385475164864875043?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/1385475164864875043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=1385475164864875043' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/1385475164864875043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/1385475164864875043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/02/bar-hebraeus.html' title='BAR HEBRAEUS   ܒܪ ܥܒܪܝܐ'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dk_DPO4V8RA/TU8Y2mdgvXI/AAAAAAAAA48/vgn2mer5M7w/s72-c/BarEbroyo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-6065984244560155804</id><published>2011-01-29T08:57:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2011-02-01T08:58:08.666+10:30</updated><title type='text'>TRIUMPH OF TRAGEDY</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If ever there was a Greek literary work deserving of translation into English, undoubtedly Vakina Panagiotidou’s first ever novel: “Triumph of Tragedy,” is such a work. In an age where the multi-cultural fabric of Australian society that has been taken for granted for so many decades is slowly unravelling, where fear and suspicion of the ‘other’ in the aftermath of the ‘global war on terror’ is more prevalent than ever before and the public can find in the terms ‘security’ justification for the exclusion and incarceration of the dispossessed who enter Australia in need of succour, Vakina Panagiotidou’s profoundly moving and holistic account of migrant life and acculturation in Australia is invaluable in recreating lasting awareness and sensitivity to the circumstances, perceptions and incongruities that form part of the migrant experience. I am honoured to have been entrusted with the English translation of the work, which shall be launched this year.&lt;br /&gt;In particular, Panagiotidou expertly weaves a thoroughly engrossing narrative that faithfully re-creates the post-war migrant experience in Australia, the search for a home, employment and the indefatigable desire to improve oneself. Further, she focuses closely upon the particular conditions in her war-shattered home-country that precluded her, as well as hundreds of thousands of others, from remaining there. Her account is particularly sophisticated. Whereas the memoirs of many a Greek migrant allude simply to the stark poverty and misery of life in post-war Greece, Panagiotidou delves deep into the social fabric of its traumatised society, exposing the contradictions, hypocrisy and stagnation of a patriarchal society built so heavily upon privilege and vested interest, that it turned a vast section of its population into ‘misfits,’ who, deprived in practical terms of a livelihood, a possibility of marriage and of self-respect, had no other choice but to leave their homes and seek what we would deem to be basic human rights and living conditions, across the other side of the globe.&lt;br /&gt;The need for respect and human dignity as a driving force for emigration is a topic Panagiotidou returns to again and again throughout the book. Too often, the migrant experience is considered in this country at least, to consist of migrants arriving on Australia’s shores in search of a better life, working hard and gradually attaining the lifestyle and financial ease that they so desired. Quite often, migrants themselves as well as their progeny, enmeshed in their own endeavours to secure their daily bread and by now well acclimatised to their environment through decades of integration, place undue emphasis upon the economic dimension of emigration, glossing over the psychological and emotional upheaval that it necessarily entails.&lt;br /&gt;Yet just as the experience of emigration is incomprehensible without a consideration of its root causes, so too is an understanding of it superficial, unless its psychological and emotional effects are also considered. It is in this sphere that Panagiotidou especially excels herself. Her candid exposition into her travails provides the reader with an unparalleled both in clarity and intensity, insight into the turmoil, internal conflicts, doomed hopes, false expectations, despair and unexpected happiness arising from their arrival and settlement in Australia, making short shrift of the myth that all migrants had to do was to work hard in order to ‘make it.’ Panagiotidou, as heroine in her novel, battles denial, stress, euphoria, extreme depression, domestic violence, terminal illness and the loss of her child. She also experiences the indifference and sometimes, malice, of her migrant compatriots. This then is the unwritten, unspoken history of migration, one of immense anguish and upheaval and the ultimate triumph, is not surpassing such pain but adopting it as a part of one’s personal identity. This, then, is the justification behind the novel’s title.&lt;br /&gt;What makes Panagiotidou’s exploration of the psychology of the migrant experience even the more so remarkable, is that it is not, as one would think, the result of years of study, reflection and re-assessment. The book was written at a time contemporaneous to the period it describes and this accounts not only for its impressionistic style but also its dramatic intensity and accuracy. Panagiotidou, through the use of simple, unaffected language, peppered with colloquialisms, immediately establishes a great intimacy with the reader, not only generously permitting them to become privy to her tortuous prevarications and sinuous internal monologues, which dominate the work, but also through direct addresses to them, to the extent where in a Freudian inversion, the alter-ego merges with the ego and it is uncertain who is speaking and we are, in consummate Brechtian fashion, unsure as to whether we are merely witnessing or rather partaking of the narrative ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;Throughout the account, Panagiotidou does not shy away from being a vocal mouthpiece for social change, reform and self-improvement and her doing so in no way distorts the experience of character of the Greek migrant. Quite the opposite, it completes its faithful portrayal. For to have the dispossessed and downtrodden, possessed of little resources or education possess the foresight and the courage to uproot themselves from their native soil and try their future as grafts upon a foreign tree is an awe inspiring prospect. The social levelling that ensues from this experience is clearly enunciated by the iconoclastic Panagiotidou, who embarks on a succession of business ventures, some successful, others not so, stressing the equality between sexes and the sense of fraternity that is to be found within the Greek community of Australia. Indeed, Panagiotidou’s experience and thought process constitutes a chronicle of female emancipation, as she uncompromisingly casts off the fetters of the past and through her hard work and integrity, obtains the respect she so desperately seeks.&lt;br /&gt;Panagiotidou’s candid chronicle of difficult personal relationships casts asunder stereotypes of traditional families within ethnic communities. Issues such as abuse, domestic violence and family dysfunction that are generally hushed up in recording the migrant story are here presented in all their heart-wrenching brutality, without mitigation or justification. For Panagiotidou, these are obstacles to be surpassed, but not without great emotional cost and isolation.&lt;br /&gt;What is unsurpassable however, is the death of the author’s son. In many ways, it is the final capstone of tragedy in a life filled with adversity. It marks an appalling climax to the story, one which the author tells with heart-breaking sensitivity, despite the stark language she chooses to employ.&lt;br /&gt;Ultimately, Panagiotidou’s chronicle concludes upon a despairing note. It appears that there is no rest for the wanderer. Her dreams of peace, success and family happiness are shattered. Of particular interest is the manner in which she records the fraternal bonds of mutual association and assistance that bound the youthful Greek community together slowly becoming eroded under the influence of financial ease and acculturation. There are many lessons to be learnt, especially for the latter generation, English-speaking scions of that community. While railing against the newfound materialism of that community, Panagiotidou paradoxically simultaneously laments her own inability to achieve a similar state of affluence, despite her most strenuous efforts in that direction. One cannot avoid the suspicion by the end of the narrative, that the ideal of the equitable and congenial community she and others like her had so espoused was slowly transforming into one where money and privilege are the measure of its constituents.&lt;br /&gt;Vakina Panagiotidou has a story to tell and it is of such profundity that it will provoke and move all readers. The release of the book in English is a brave and bold gesture, sure to challenge stereotypes of the migration story and the myths of migrants themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 29 January 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-6065984244560155804?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/6065984244560155804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=6065984244560155804' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/6065984244560155804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/6065984244560155804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/02/triumph-of-tragedy.html' title='TRIUMPH OF TRAGEDY'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-2879804004112042013</id><published>2011-01-22T08:47:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2011-01-25T08:50:18.460+10:30</updated><title type='text'>AUSSIE BORN BISHOP</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dk_DPO4V8RA/TT366q_OcCI/AAAAAAAAA4w/I_hGgUBwVjE/s1600/Fr_I_Tsigounnis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565880600378634274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dk_DPO4V8RA/TT366q_OcCI/AAAAAAAAA4w/I_hGgUBwVjE/s400/Fr_I_Tsigounnis.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Late last year, just before the Victorian State Election, I attended an evening at Parliament House, organized by the Australian Christian Lobby, whose aim was to ascertain the position of the two major parties on various issues of concern to diverse Christian denominations in Melbourne. One after the other, clerics and other representatives of these denominations rose to ask pertinent and perspicacious questions about complex matters ranging from Equal Opportunity Legislation, to Drug and Alcohol Abuse Policy, Medical Ethics, Asylum Seekers and Computer Game Ratings and Internet Censorship. These questions were of a sophisticated nature, displaying not only a masterly appreciation of the delicate nuances of policy and legislation that can give rise to a plethora of interpretations and presumably, applications on both a political and juridical level, but also, a deep understanding of the evolution of our modern multi-faceted and pluralistic Victorian society. &lt;div align="justify"&gt;The church representatives present, seemed to wish not so much to propound and preach doctrine, as to probe and to clarify, to distinguish and to elucidate, and to enter into a genuine dialogue with their political leaders. I was particularly heartened by the presence of representatives of Eastern Orthodox and Oriental Orthodox churches, even if this was de facto, as junior partners.A church, embodying by its very nature, a set of convictions about the supernatural and existence itself, has in secular pluralistic societies, an invaluable role to play; its doctrines forming one of many commentaries and critiques on the nature and direction of that society. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The Orthodox Church, with an ancient unbroken presence in the lands that first adopted Christianity from the outset of that religion’s inception, obviously has, considering its venerable and unfathomably protean tradition in such spheres of life as spirituality, welfare, philosophy and ethics, much to contribute, offer and share with the discourse of modern complex communities, especially since it has been both a minority and state religion of empires as globalist and sophisticated as those of the Romans and the Ottomans, which offer interesting parallels to our own reality today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It is to Australia’s loss that up until recently in its century-long history in this country, the Orthodox Church has not been able to engage in discourse with its host culture, to the full breadth and extent that its vast tradition permits. Instead, owing to the fact that the vast majority of its congregation and practitioners had little fluent English, it was effectively relegated to the status of a ‘ghetto church,’ by the mainstream: that is, a church that did not and could not engage with the broader community. Instead, it concerned itself largely with ministering to its members’ religious, but also cultural needs, given that the conditions of the long Ottoman occupation have historically rendered the Church the repository of ethnic consciousness – a significant social development. Our priests, struggling to find their feet in a new land while assisting their flock to also do the same were not in a position to offer any insights to a mainstream that for decades considered them its inferiors. Consequently, our Church has until recently, not been in a position to produce the ethicists and thinkers that, for example, the Roman Catholic and Anglican denominations have, nor has it been able to have anyone sit up and take notice at its unique world-view.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The isolation of the Orthodox Church as an ethnic ghetto institution in Australia is anomalous, flying in the face of its universal message. Thankfully, such isolation has decreased over time, largely as a result of the foundation of St Andrew’s Theological College in Sydney, enabling Australian-born members of the congregation to study Orthodox theology in their country of birth and to subsequently become priests, as well as a result of the arrival here of dynamic clerics, possessed of a brilliant academic background and fluency in the English language, such as our own Archbishop Stylianos and the charismatic Bishop Irinej of the Serbian Orthodox Church. Such prelates, apart from forming compendious repositories of the knowledge necessary to propagate and perpetuate the Faith in Australia, are also, because of their highly developed interpersonal skills, uniquely placed to engage with the mainstream and wrest from its political leaders, the requisite recognition of our Church as a significant stakeholder in Australian society. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;To speak of continued isolation a century after the establishment of the Church in Australia is thus a testament to the prevailing social conditions that determine the level of integration of our community within the mainstream. However, considering that the second and third generation members of our community are overwhelmingly English speaking and are active in all facets or Australian life, the isolation of their belief system from mainstream Australia is no longer tenable.Recently, it was announced that Father Jacob, an archimandrite serving at the Oakleigh parish, will be elevated to the rank of titular bishop of Miletoupolis, a see once held by Archbishop Stylianos. Through his elevation, Father Jacob makes history, as he is the first ever Australian-born cleric to become an Orthodox bishop in Australia. Furthermore, given that he is a graduate of St Andrews Theological College, it is correct to say that he is a product of a uniquely Australian Orthodox environment. This is an achievement our entire community can feel proud of, though it is an achievement not without its more daunting aspects. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;For it is to our Australian-born, fluently English speaking bishop that will fall a triple and particularly intricate task;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;a) serving the ecclesiastical needs of ageing Greek speaking parishioners and their priests, who currently form the majority of active church-goers; – and balancing these with-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;b) passing on the Orthodox traditions and doctrines to the latter, English speaking generations. This is a task fraught with difficulty, not only due to the fact that these generations are largely disengaged from Greek communal activity, whether cultural or religious and lack facility in the Greek language but also because unlike their forebears, who came from and recreated in their adopted country a culture that revolved, at least ideologically, around the church, tradition and nationalism, they live in a secular post-modern age, that challenges claims to objectivity and deconstructs every and all claimant to the ultimate truth and are thus, emancipated from the shackles of traditional social compliance, not as inclined to subscribe to the Church’s tenets;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;c) ensuring that the Church engages with the mainstream in ways that ensure that it provides a meaningful and respected contribution to the discourse of Australian society. This includes broadening the base of the important and largely unsung welfare and social work that the Church has undertaken. It also means placing the Church at the helm of furthering study of our unique patristic and theological tradition – truly an unlimited resource. In attempting such undertakings, the bishop would have to tread a tenuous tightrope between retaining the historic Greek origins of the Church, without this precluding its development as an inclusive Australian Church, in which peoples of diverse background have a role to play. As a corollary, he will be compelled also to placate and direct both partisans whose conception of the Church is either more exclusive or inclusive. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Achieving all this and keeping the peace within our fractious community will be no mean feat indeed. Indeed, it is vital that in seeking to engage the disengaged, and granting the Church heightened relevance in a period of rapid social unravelling, an environment of harmony, support, mutual assistance and dare one say it, love, its actively maintained. Considering that as a community and a congregation we are at the crossroads of acculturation, how we engage with each other and plan for the future will determine the survival of the entities we have created and nurtured with so much effort. The state of that future, will most likely, be our new bishop’s legacy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ultimately, what reassures us in the face of the enormity of the challenges that lie ahead for the Orthodox Church in Australia is the solid foundation upon which it has been constructed. This is a Church that in its two thousand year old history has survived continuous persecution, schism and conflict. All these vicissitudes have taught it how to remain relevant and steadfast. Its hierarchs have acted as beacons and guardians of our people and faith and it is to this tradition of quiet perseverance and bold resistance that our new Australian-born bishop weds himself. In his task, he deserves the assistance of us all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on Saturday 22 January 2011&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-2879804004112042013?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/2879804004112042013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=2879804004112042013' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2879804004112042013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2879804004112042013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/01/aussie-born-bishop.html' title='AUSSIE BORN BISHOP'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dk_DPO4V8RA/TT366q_OcCI/AAAAAAAAA4w/I_hGgUBwVjE/s72-c/Fr_I_Tsigounnis.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-2586094594781643024</id><published>2011-01-15T08:49:00.001+10:30</published><updated>2011-01-17T08:52:42.419+10:30</updated><title type='text'>LONG WALLS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dk_DPO4V8RA/TTNvXzNYoJI/AAAAAAAAA4o/j6xDseiTEKc/s1600/San_Diego_Border_Wall_-_Courtesy_Jay_Johnson_Castro.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562912419406717074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dk_DPO4V8RA/TTNvXzNYoJI/AAAAAAAAA4o/j6xDseiTEKc/s400/San_Diego_Border_Wall_-_Courtesy_Jay_Johnson_Castro.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;“True, conscious honour is to feel no sin, he's armed without that's innocent within; be this thy screen, and this thy wall of brass."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Alexander Pope.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;                  Greece has had in its history, three great walls. The first, were the Long Walls of Athens, so called as they provided a long, protective corridor down to Piraeus. They were a key element of Athenian strategy, since they provided the city with a constant link to the sea and prevented it from being besieged by land alone. These walls were constructed in the fifth century BC, after the original walls of Athens had been destroyed by the Persians during the occupations of Attica in 480 and 479 BC.&lt;br /&gt;             After the removal of the Persian forces subsequent to the battle of Plataea, the Athenians were free to reoccupy their land and begin rebuilding their city. Early in the process of rebuilding, construction was started on new walls around the city proper. This project drew opposition from the Spartans and their Peloponnesian allies, who had been alarmed by the recent increase in the power of Athens. Spartan envoys urged the Athenians not to go through with the construction, arguing that a walled Athens would be a useful base for an invading army, and that the defenses of the isthmus of Corinth would provide a sufficient shield against invaders. Despite these concerns the envoys did not strongly protest and did in fact give advice to the builders. The Athenians disregarded the arguments, fully aware that leaving their city unwalled would place them utterly at the mercy of the insidious Peloponnesians and Thucydides, in his account of these events, describes a series of complex machinations by the wily Themistocles by which he distracted and delayed the Spartans until the walls had been built up to such a height as to be defensible. In the early 450s BC, fighting began between Athens and various Peloponnesian allies of Sparta. In the midst of this fighting, Athens had begun construction of two more walls between 462 BC and 458 BC, one running from the city to the old port at Phalerum, the other to the newer port at Piraeus. These new walls, the Long Walls, ensured that Athens would never be cut off from supplies as long as she controlled the sea. Eventually, they were pulled down by the Spartans in 404 BC after Athens' defeat in the Peloponnesian Wars and rebuilt again, paradoxically with Persian support during the Corinthian War, only to be stormed and partly pulled down by the Roman Sulla, in the course of his sack of Athens during the Mithridatic Wars.&lt;br /&gt;                  The Hexamilion, on the other hand stands at the end of a long series of attempts to fortify the Isthmus of Corinth stretching back to perhaps the Mycenaean period. Many of the Peloponnesian cities, including Sparta, as mentioned previously, wanted to pull back and fortify the Isthmus instead of making a stand at Thermopylae when Xerxes invaded in 480 BC, though as Herodotus comments, this would have been of limited value without control of the sea, and which, as the Diatribist opines, is indicative of selfish Hellenic parochialism at its most odious.&lt;br /&gt;The actual Hexamilion Wall across the Ismthus was constructed in the period between 408 and 450, in the reign of the Byzantine Emperor Theodosius II, during the time of the great barbarian incursions into the Roman Empire. The Wall included towers, sea bastions, and at minimum one fortress, containing two gates of which the northern gate functioned as the formal entrance to the Peloponnesus. The wall was constructed with a rubble and mortar core faced with squared stones. It is not certain how long it took to complete, but the importance given to the task is apparent from the scale of the construction; the Hexamilion is the largest archaeological structure in Greece. Every structure in the region was cannibalized for stone for the effort, either being incorporated into the wall directly, as was the temple of Poseidon at Ismthia, or being burned into lime, as was the sanctuary of Hera at Perahora. In 1415, the Byzantine emperor Manual II personally supervised repairs over a period of forty days, envisioning that the walls would be a last stand against the relentless Ottoman advance and indeedt he wall was breached by them in 1423. Despot of Morea Constantine Palaiologos restored the wall again in 1444, but the Turks breached it again in 1446. After the Ottoman conquest of the Peloponnese in 1460, the wall was abandoned. Nonetheless, it never succeeded in fulfilling the function for which it was constructed, unless it acted as a deterrent.&lt;br /&gt;                     The third great walls of Hellenism are those of Constantinople. With numerous additions and modifications during their history, they were the last great fortification system of antiquity and one of the most complex and elaborate systems ever built. When well manned, the walls were almost impregnable for any medieval besieger, saving the city, and the Byzantine Empire with it, during sieges from various other nations for one thousand years. The advent of gunpowder siege cannons rendered the fortifications vulnerable, leading to the fall of Constantinople to the Ottomans on 29 May 1453 after a prolonged siege.&lt;br /&gt;The moral then, to any prospective Grecian wall builders is that eventually, they can and will be breached. Greek walls, built to exclude others, whether they be other Greeks, or other nations have never been able to exclude them or keep them out for very long. Indeed, the secret to the Greek people’s amazing survival given the extent of the vicissitudes of fate and concatenation of circumstances that have befallen it over its lengthy sojourn through history, has been its ability to absorb and assimilate external influences, adding further variety and vibrancy to its cultural discourse. To this effect, the nations that have found a home and haven in Greece are innumerable, from Thracians and Illyrians, to Celts, Romans and Goths, Bulgarians and other Slavs, to Albanians, Vlachs, Armenians and Turks. With the notable exception of those settled at the behest of conquering armies, most of these peoples were refugees, fleeing wars and catastrophe elsewhere.&lt;br /&gt;                           Undoubtedly, the collapse of the Communist bloc and the upheavals of war in the Middle East and the Balkans has created a second ‘movement of peoples’ as vast in its complexity as that which caused the barbarians incursions into Europe and hastened the decline of the Roman Empire. Greece, owing to its geographical position, has borne the brunt of this movement, having being swamped with hundreds of thousands of refugees. Unlike the draconian in comparison Australian policies to such illegal border crossers, Greek policy is much more humane and compassionate, permitting refugees in practice, to live and work among Greeks, until such time as they are able to obtain a visa elsewhere – given that the majority of border crossers view Greece as a stepping stone to a better place and not a final destination. The benign treatment of these individuals can have unexpected results, turning them inadvertently into ambassadors for Greece’s good name. Here in Melbourne, there reside not a few citizens of Middle Eastern extraction, who sing Greece’s praises and of the generosity and compassion of its people, because in Greece, they found, albeit temporarily, a second home. A good many of these speak Greek quite well, and among them can even be found priests and bishops, fleeing persecution in their home countries.&lt;br /&gt;                             The building of a wall along the border with Turkey in order to stem the flow of refugees and illegal immigrants represents a failure of the human spirit and of the inclusionist, global, European humanistic ideal. It is not enough to argue that cash-strapped Greece is at the end of its tether and cannot absorb further peoples, when its population density is so low. In fact, the Greek border is also the border of Europe, something that Western Europe has difficulty in comprehending and there exists no co-ordinated European policy of reception, absorption and processing of these poor, peripatetic peoples.&lt;br /&gt;                       Where walls are erected, they signify a failure. The Chinese Great Wall failed to stop the incursion of the Mongols. The Berlin Wall ultimately failed in keeping a people apart. The Wall of Shame in the West Bank, turning Palestinian habitations into ghettoes, marks the failure of racial and religious discriminatory conceptions of statehood. The Greek Wall in turn, will not stem the tide of refugees forever, especially the significant amounts entering the country by sea.&lt;br /&gt;                  Refugees and illegal immigrants must not be portrayed as barbarians at the gates, threatening Greek life as we know it. Greek society is more at risk of disruption by bourgeois, well-fed and spoiled anarchists than persecuted people who wanted to rebuild their shattered lives. Such refugees have seen terrible things in their home countries. Along their journey to freedom, they have endured terrible hardships and dangers, which have only stiffened their resolve to survive and enjoy a quiet life. The least one can do, is to co-ordinate a pan-European policy to receive them and help them on their way.&lt;br /&gt;                  It was Mervyn Peake, author of the Gormenghast trilogy, an epic about a vast but crumbling self absorbed city and mouldering civilization that enjoyed total isolation from outside world, who perhaps provides the most apt simile with Europe today. And it is in his words that we may find the inspiration to assist people to find their freedom and ourselves to retain our humanity: &lt;em&gt;“Each day I live in a glass room unless I break it with the thrusting of my senses and pass through the splintered walls to the great landscape.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;DEAN KALIMNIOU&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:kalymnios@hotmail.com"&gt;kalymnios@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in NKEE on 15 January 2011&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9094912-2586094594781643024?l=diatribe-column.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/feeds/2586094594781643024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9094912&amp;postID=2586094594781643024' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2586094594781643024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9094912/posts/default/2586094594781643024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diatribe-column.blogspot.com/2011/01/long-walls.html' title='LONG WALLS'/><author><name>PANEPIROTIC FEDERATION OF AUSTRALIA</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03099298139882292099</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dk_DPO4V8RA/TTNvXzNYoJI/AAAAAAAAA4o/j6xDseiTEKc/s72-c/San_Diego_Border_Wall_-_Courtesy_Jay_Johnson_Castro.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9094912.post-7086954797197142540</id><published>2011-01-08T10:37:00.002+10:30</published><updated>2011-01-10T10:41:18.669+10:30</updated><title type='text'>DIATRIBE TURNS TEN</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dk_DPO4V8RA/TSpOmM1XEvI/AAAAAAAAA4g/9Uj7XSF5Gz8/s1600/Diatribe_249132333_std.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560343108129329906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dk_DPO4V8RA/TSpOmM1XEvI/AAAAAAAAA4g/9Uj7XSF5Gz8/s400/Diatribe_249132333_std.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia."&lt;/em&gt; E Doctorow&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nativity of Diatribe, which is relevant only in that this year finds this column attaining the venerable age of ten years, had its origin in its predecessor, the NUGAS column, that once graced the pages of this august publication. In those days, Greek-Australian youth were enjoying the tail end of what appears to have been the swang-song of intensely 'Hellenic' organised activity - the Baraki scene. Lonsdale and Russel Streets undulated to the hybrid Greco-Arabic rhythms of Giorgos Alkaios et al and NUGAS publications were festooned with pictures of revellers seeking a mate, and entreaties for the unconverted to attend the next Greek night.&lt;br /&gt;My criticism of NUGAS and the Baraki scene in general was that the blind, unquestioning adoration exhibited towards 'Hellenism,' by youthful and fervent born again Hellenes seemed to be based only on the fact that their permissive, laissez faire leisure activities more closely resembled those of their host culture and that their understanding of their cultural background was at best superficial. When I became somewhat more vocal in communicating my observations, I found myself writing the NUGAS column, for, as one leading NUGAS aficionado put it, if I were part of NUGAS, I would not be able to criticise it.&lt;br /&gt;The main thrust of the NUGAS column therefore was twofold. Primarily, it was to convince the community that NUGAS was not just an outlet for recreation and procreation, but could have something to say about the formulation of a distinctive Greek-Australian identity. Further, I felt that it could provide born again Hellenes with interesting and unknown snippets of information about Greek culture and history, proving that Hellenism was not just about baraki, souvlaki and Sfakianaki, but was incredibly deep, fascinating, with a remarkable global reach.&lt;br /&gt;Diatribe, the NUGAS column's successor, was intended to continue in the same vein. However, a chance encounter with the then newly appointed editor, Argyris Argyropoulos caused a slight deviation in focus. Over coffee, he related the story of an old man who lived in Footscray and became something of a local 'character' in the area. "Why don't you look out for characters like these?" he suggested. "A whole way of life is changing, vanishing without us even realising it." Various character descriptions have peopled the Diatribe since that time, especially those of good friends, such as Theodoros Tsonis and Spiros Stamoulis, to whom, I have through the Diatribe, have had to say goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;Ten years on, a great deal has changed in our community. A decade ago, Modern Greek was being offered for study at most of the tertiary institutions of Melbourne and we were proud of the founding of EKEME as a Greek research centre. If anything we were merely lamenting the imminent demise of Hellenic studies at Melbourne University. Nowadays, considering that less than three hundred students in Victoria undertake the study of Modern Greek at VCE level, mourning the collapse of Modern Greek at the tertiary level appears to be pointless. What is instructive however, is the fact that the so-called Greek community found itself unable to rouse itself and mobilise in order to forestall or prevent such a collapse. It was, and in many respects still is, content to labour under the delusion that ours is a large, powerful, organic and important community. Diatribe was prescient enough to perceive this struthocamilic approach to the future back then and ask pertinent questions as to where we are headed.&lt;br /&gt;Truly, the Greek community has changed greatly in a decade. Firstly, the sidelining of NUGAS, the sorry fate of most second generation Greek-Australians who sought to assume the reins of power in our brotherhoods or clubs and the blatant manipulation of the youth by master puppeteers in other clubs, who rely upon the illusion that they run those clubs for the benefit of the youth - but in the process alienate both youth and elderly members is indicative of the vast chasm separating the 'organised' first generation from the disinterested and non-participating latter generations. Again, as in the case of Modern Greek studies, despite the disintegration of most of our clubs, the fact that our youth take no active part in them and that SAE, the imaginary co-ordinating body that gave them sort of relevance as pawns on a larger chessboard of manouveuring and manipulation has also collapsed, we still tend to see ourselves as a strong, organisation rich community. Nonetheless, one of the most fascinating consequences of this demise is the remarkable coalescing of such forces around a new, revitalised G
