GENOCIDE RECOGNITION

On 30 April 2009, the South Australian lower house did a remarkable thing; it recognised the genocide of the Christian peoples of Anatolia during the Ottoman Empire. The full text of the motion that was passed is as follows:
“That, whereas the genocide by the Ottoman state between 1915-1923 of Armenians, Hellenes, Syrian and other minorities in Asia Minor is one of the greatest crimes against humanity, the people of South Australia and this House –
(a) join the members of the Armenian-Australian, Pontian Greek-Australian and Syrian-Australian communities in honouring the memory of the innocent men, women and children who fell victim to the first modern genocide;
(b) condemns the genocide of the Armenians, Pontian Greeks, Syrian Orthodox and other Christian minorities, and all other acts of genocide as the ultimate act of racial, religious and cultural intolerance;
(c) recognises the importance of remembering and learning from such dark chapters in human history to ensure that such crimes against humanity are not allowed to be repeated;
(d) condemns and prevents all attempts to use the passage of time to deny or distort the historical truth of the genocide of the Armenians and other acts of genocide committed during this century;
(e) acknowledges the significant humanitarian contribution made by the people of South Australia to the victims and survivors of the Armenian Genocide and the Pontian Genocide; and
(f) calls on the commonwealth parliament officially to condemn the genocide."
Noting in passing that the Assyrian community has been misdescribed as ‘Syrian,’ a grave error that will hopefully be rectified, this recognition of the genocide of the Christian peoples of Anatolia forms a historic landmark in the history of the Armenian-Australian, Assyria-Australian and Greek-Australian people. This is not a political or ethnic victory, for we are thankfully not enmeshed within the warp and the weft of the greater geo-strategic and political games played by the representatives of our mother countries. This is not a victory of diplomats, who for the most part shy away from agitating publicly on what we term to be “national issues.” Most importantly, this act of recognition is balsam applied to the unhealed wound in the souls of genocide victims and their descendants. The Australian historical narrative often tends to ignore the socio-political events that its migrant populations have experienced. Yet these events, often traumatic, inform these Australian’s world-view. The opinions and emotions forged during such times have been transplanted to this country and often, passed down the generations. Horrific international experiences such as the Holocaust or the Genocide are thus pertinent to this country because they have affected, directly or indirectly, a portion of the Australian community.

South Australian Attorney General Michael Atkinson was thus entirely correct when he stated in his speech: “We should support the motion to recognise the Armenian, Pontian Greek, Syrian Orthodox, (sic) Nestorian and Assyrian communities who flourish in Australia today. The Republic of Turkey, having dispersed these people to the point of the globe farthest from Anatolia, can hardly complain that, in the freedom of the Antipodes, they perpetuate the memory of their ancestors and their culture. These Australians—and I remind Senator Ferguson that they are Australians with the full right of citizenship to talk about topics that Senator Ferguson considers too ancient and too controversial—came to Australia from countries, including Palestine, Egypt, Syria, Iraq and Lebanon, where they had settled after the genocide.”
The Leader of the South Australian Opposition, Martin Hamilton Smith also spoke upon the relevance of the empirical and personal connection: “As a man married to a Greek, with a son who is half Greek, who is Orthodox, this has very much touched me and my family. Let there be no doubt in the mind of any South Australian about my view and the view of the state Liberals of these terrible and tragic events.”
Further, through the international treaties it has signed, Australia has cast itself as a democratic, humanitarian country, that abjures all forms of totalitarian terror, it is a humanitarian victory for all Australians who still believe in the democratic process and principled politicians. As John Rau, Member for Enfield stated: “The fact that this motion is before the parliament, the fact that we are debating this matter and we are talking about this matter is at least some modest way that we as legislators in what is, after all, only a provincial parliament—I should not really say that here, should I, but that is what we are—can make some contribution to raising public awareness, both of the terrible circumstances of this particular conflict, but also of the fact that these conflicts can and do and will occur again unless people are aware of these issues and take intelligent, statesmanlike solutions to these problems to hand.” The Member for Fisher, R B Such, went further, courageously acknowledging his own battles as a child, in coming to terms with tolerance, before stating: “We cannot afford to sit back and do nothing. We need to ensure that we are ever vigilant and that we promote tolerance and empathy, particularly amongst our children, so that we rid the world and ourselves of the evil that can be reflected in the sort of genocide and intolerance that is highlighted in this motion today.”
The debate in the SA parliament on the Genocide thus underlies just how principled its politicians are. Some of the debate centred on a few comments published in the Diatribe a few weeks ago, about Senator Ferguson’s denial of the historical authenticity of the Pontian Genocide. In particular, the Diatribe had opined: “Playing ethnic politics is a dirty game that threatens to shatter social harmony quite a good deal more easily than referring to or interpreting historical events. The fact of the matter is that Australia's communities of diverse backgrounds have proven that they can co-exist peacefully in fruitful collaboration and ties of friendship because of our joint commitment to multicultural Australia. No cynical, irresponsible or misguided attempt to score points or votes off the back of any arbitrarily chosen ethnic group should ever be permitted to bear the bitter fruit of discord.”
It appears that this was the guiding principle of all the politicians who spoke on the motions, from both major parties, though I regret the misguided attempt in Parliament to use this quote to accuse others of ‘using’ ethnics as pawns in a broader political game. This notwithstanding, it was gratifying in the extreme to witness these politicians quote extensively from the research of Dr Panayiotis Diamandis, Thea Halo’s famous book “Not without My Name,” William Dalrymple’s “From the Holy Mountain,” and even from primary sources such as the archives of the Greek government: “The government of Ankara decided that the Greeks of the regions of Atabazar and Kaltras, first, and later the Greeks of the Pontos , would be slaughtered and eliminated. He assigned Yavur Ali to burn down a Greek village which is near Geive and to kill all of its inhabitants. The tragedy lasted two days. The village, with its 12 factories and its nice buildings became a dump site. Ninety per cent of the population were slaughtered and burnt. The few who were able to escape in order to save their lives went to the mountains. In order to preserve his Chets , Mustafa Kemal had to find an area which he could attack.”
The extensive references to the actual historical events and their effects prove that these politicians are not motivated by political expediency in the recognition of the Genocide. Indeed, they have nothing to gain politically from doing so. Instead, through their own research and critical faculties, they have become convinced that the Genocide of the Christian peoples of Anatolia is a historical fact that needs to be recognised at a formal level. All of them ought to be commended for this, especially in the face of vociferous protest by the Turkish consular authorities. I am informed, though I have not seen a copy of the relevant letter, that the Australian Foreign Minister has written to the Attorney General of South Australia, stating that it is not the Federal Government’s policy to recognise the Genocide. Perhaps the Australian government should take a leaf out of the enlightened South Australian parliament’s book and pass resolutions based on fact and not Realpolitik.
The president of the Federation of Pontian Organisations of Australia, Harry Tavlarides, the alternate president, Panagiotis Jasonides and many others have worked tirelessly over the years, not to politicise the issue, but to firstly raise awareness of the Genocide among the Pontian and broader Greek community, then to liaise and co-ordinate commemoration events with the Armenian and Assyrian communities (and indeed, it was this diametric move away from isolationist activities and the placing of the Pontian Genocide into the broader context of the fate of other Christian nations in the same region, that arguably allowed the issue of recognition raise itself from the quagmire of obscurity,) and finally, to present the facts to members of Parliament and have them make up their own mind.
In many ways, the whole campaign for Genocide Recognition has its inception in Federation member, Central Pontian Association “Pontiaki Estia’s” Pontian Genocide Workshops. The brainchild of Litsa Athanasiadis and George Papadopoulos, these have run for almost a decade now, having transmogrified into the cultural and theatrical annual “Seed” event at the Clocktower Centre in Moonee Ponds. Neos Kosmos has also played a prominent role in raising awareness of the Genocide and calling for its recognition through its frequent articles on the topic over the years and of this, and the fact that South Australian parliamentarians: “draw the attention of the house to an article in Neos Kosmos , described by some as Australia's leading Greek newspaper and the largest ABC audited ethnic publication,” we should all be very proud. As one member of the Pontian Federation remarked to me: “I was told a few years back by some first generation leaders of the Pontian community that there was absolutely no way that the Pontian Genocide would ever be recognised in Australia. Now look how far we have come.” We have come thus far, because of the grass roots support of a broad swathe of the Australian community, carefully informed, and despite the politicking of most of our parochial community organizations.
In a sense, I sympathise with members of the Turkish community who will feel enraged at the South Australian Parliament’s recognition. After all, they, just like us, share nationalistic myths about the destiny and character of their race. They, just like us, have been brought up to think that there race is noble, just, courteous and of great benefit to mankind. An official recognition of the genocide shatters such myths just as it calls them into question. As a corollary, why does official Greek historiography skim over the massacre of innocent Turks during the taking of Tripolitsa, or the atrocities committed by the Greek army in Asia Minor? Simply because the Greek people are also, to some extent, informed by the same nation-building myths. What the recognition teaches the Turkish community, as well as us, is that crimes against humanity are not committed by races. They are committed by human beings, and it is those human beings, not their race, creed or colour that are to be condemned. It is degrading to defend the indefensible and we should all be possessed of the conviction to uphold what is right and denounce the wrong, regardless of our kinship with its perpetrator
The recognition of the Genocide should thus not be viewed as the ascendancy of one ‘ethnic’ lobby over another. It is justice achieved, a little victory for a people downtrodden and crushed into the dust. All that remains therefore, as we pay respect to their memory, is to echo the laudable sentiments of the Honourable Michael Ferguson: “Rest eternal, grant unto them, Oh Lord, and may light perpetual shine upon them. May they rest in peace and rise in glory.” Αμήν.

DEAN KALIMNIOU

kalymnios@hotmail.com

First published in NKEE on 11 May 2009

PETER JASONIDES AND EPIRUS

 

My first conversation with the late Peter Jasonides relating to Epirus took place at a Pontian «παρακάθ’». The traditional Pontian song «Τρυγόνα» was playing and we were comparing lyrics, as there is also an Epirotic version.

“Let me explain the song for you,” Peter offered, his face flushed in pride. “The turtle dove (which symbolises a beautiful girl), is in the forest, gathering wood. She is described as wearing an apron and socks and is likened to a crown, which probably denotes that she is of marriageable age and also acts as proof that Pontians consider their women to be royalty.”

“Fascinating,” I replied. “In the Epirotic version, the turtle dove is just that. A woman asks the turtle dove, since she can fly and perch on high, whether she has seen her husband. The turtle dove replies in the affirmative, confirming that she spotted him just yesterday lying in a field, with black birds pecking at his eyes.”

“Oh my god,” Peter exclaimed, choking on his drink. “Can you Epirotes be any more morbid? What is it with you people?”

It is a question I have always asked myself and I told him of my long held belief that Epirotes are obsessed with dead owing to the fact that the entrance to Hades was traditionally held to have been at the region’s Acheron River, by classical accounts, including Pausanias  and later Dante's Inferno, with Charon ferrying the souls of the dead across it. According to folk etymology, the word Acheron meant “joyless,” which is exactly how the uninitiated describe Epirotic music. Proving that Epirus occupied a liminal space where the boundaries between life and death are blurred, close by near Parga, is the Necromanteion, or Oracle of the Dead, where the living would go to speak to their dead ancestors.

“That would make sense except for one thing,” Peter responded. “We Pontians also had a Necromanteion. It was in Pontoheraclea, and we are still not as morbid as you are.”

“Actually,” I corrected him, “Pontoheraclea was in Bithynia, so it really isn’t a part of Pontus at all”

“Yes it is.”

“No it isn’t…”

When Peter was firmly convinced of something, it was exceedingly difficult to disabuse him of his misapprehension. He attributed this to his «Ποντιακό κεφάλι» a form of unique psychological brachycephaly that did not easily permit the permeation of ideas that challenge one’s world view. I believe that he was extremely disappointed when I informed him that the Epirotes talk of «Ηπειρώτικο κεφάλι» and he spent the next hour trying to identify the nuances that would distinguish between the two afflictions, only stopping to give me a death stare when I had the temerity to utter a Pontian joke: Γιατί οι Πόντιοι έχουν μεγάλο κεφάλι; Γιατί τα παίρνουν στο κρανίο». I never repeated the same mistake ever again.

One of the reasons that Peter was drawn to Epirus was because like Pontus, it is situated on the margins of Hellenism, the regions that in Greek we call “Acritic” which is just another way of saying extreme. Both of us espoused extreme forms of Hellenism and he was particularly enthused that members of the same Byzantine imperial family, the Komnenoi, established the Despotate of Epirus in the West and the Empire of Trebizond, in Pontus, in the East. Often he would call me to compare the parallel trajectories of both entities, both struggling to assert a variant form of the Romaic identity, both sandwiched between aggressive powers that wanted to call them their own. It was this idea, of being away from the centre of power and yet established an alternative narrative of one’s own that intrigued him, not in the least because he could appreciate how a similar process could be developed in Australia, which is about as far from the cultural centre he paid homage to as you could go.

It is also for this reason that he was immensely proud of his relative, Leonidas Jasonides, who was present at the declaration of the Autonomous Republic of Pontus in Batumi in 1919. My argument, that this fledgling state could never have been viable owing to the inability of Greece to defend it, the competing interests of foreign powers and the demographics of the region he brushed off derisively. When he learned of my fascination with Autonomous Epirus, a state that was declared in the face of Albanian repression in Northern Epirus in 1914, he studied it closely, comparing its armed struggle with that of the Pontic Guerrilla movement and lamenting at how, according to him, the motherland betrayed the aspirations of both. The only difference between the two entities in his mind, was that when we commenced these discussions, the Greeks of Northern Epirus were still largely to be found in their ancestral homes whereas the Pontians were not. As the years progressed, the Northern Epirots began to migrate en masse to Greece and elsewhere, leaving Peter shaking his head. “Why on earth would you leave your country?” he would shaking his finger at me accusingly. “We were forced, we had no choice. But you guys do.” His voice then assumed a plaintive tone: “Why would you leave your country?” I said nothing. A few weeks later though, I was woken in the middle of the night by a telephone call. Peter was on the other end sobbing. He had stayed awake all night, reading an account of the suffering of the people in Hoxha’s Albania and the destruction of their religious and national identity.” It’s a form of genocide he repeated over and over again.

We campaigned together for many years for official recognition of the Pontian Genocide. During that time, I was able to convince him that it was not only a Greek Genocide, given that its scope was broader than just the Pontian region, extending to Christian populations in Asia Minor in general. One evening, while in a meeting discussing the reliability of statistics as to the victims, he interrupted the speaker, looked over to me and said: “Did you know that when the Romans conquered Epirus, they took away 150,000 Epirote slaves with them?”

“Yes, and the population of the region never recovered,” I agreed.

“Well, that is a form of Genocide. Why is this not recognised by anyone? I move that this meeting recognise this event right now. Genocide is something that should concern the Panhellenion, not just the affected regions.”

Whereas I tended to be excoriatingly critical of the motherland, Peter’s love for it was all encompassing. One of his greatest sources of pride was his tremendous command of the Greek language and the fact that he could generally not be distinguished as an Australohellene while on many of his sojourns to the home country, largely because he was a linguistic magpie who could assimilate all the latest jargon and patois into vocabulary. He believed it was his ability to establishing a rapport with Greek politicians by speaking to them on their level and register that allowed him to campaign effectively on issues relating to Pontian Hellenism and he castigated me for being antagonistic and excluding them from our calculations and field of action altogether, for his was a broad and generous view of Hellenism.

“Be that as it may,” I responded. “Your situation is different to ours. The motherland has gathered your people unto its bosom and has made them into voters and tax-payers. Our people across the border are neither of those things.”

“What they need to do is rise up,” Peter determined. “Did you know that there are one million crypto- Pontians in Turkey ready to assert their ethnic and linguistic rights?” I dismissed this form of wishful thinking, telling him the story of the mullahs of the village of Of, who in the nineteenth century, petitioned the Ottoman government not to allow the Ofites to register themselves as Greek, as they had only recently converted. “But that is it!” he enthused. “They have never forgotten! They are ready to rise up!”

Peter died and there still is not a Pontian state. He was right about the national awakening, though. A good number of the current inhabitants of Pontus are embracing their heritage, displaying an interest in learning Romeika, the Pontian language and preserving a purer form of it than that spoken in Greece, or the diaspora, as it lacks the permeation and influence of Modern Greek. Having taught himself the Pontian dialect, he would often call me to discuss the differences between Romeika as spoken in Pontus, and the dialect he knew. On most of those occasions, the conversation would end when he would hang up the phone, incensed at my maintaining that a term which he swore was ancient Greek, was actually a Turkish loan-word. Nonetheless, it was his concern that the linguistic diversity of Greece was dying out that encouraged me to write literature in the Epirote dialect. One of those stories, which he was the first to read and critique, is now an act in a play that is currently touring his beloved motherland.

The last time I spoke to Peter was a few days before his death. He called me excitedly to inform me that he had read somewhere that itinerant Epirote stonemasons were responsible for the construction of many of the bridges of Pontus in Ottoman times. For a person that spent his life building bridges between communities, the past and the present and the chasm of political and ideological divides, I thought this to have been eminently fitting. Then for some inexplicable reason he turned the conversation to the Epirote custom of playing a funereal lament on the graves of the dead, usually on the clarinet. It was only as I saw his Greek flag draped coffin emerge from the church and inch closely to the hearse, when the kemenche began to rasp its lament and a hundred Pontic voices joined in unison to send him on his way that I understood. He had the soul of an Epirote.

DEAN KALIMNIOU

kalymnios@hotmail.com

First published in NKEE on Saturday 20 July 2024

WAITING FOR THE CLOUDS

A Pontian friend relates a remarkable story whereby she once employed the assistance of a Turkish hairdresser for the purpose of taming her unruly tresses, in suburban north-west Melbourne. Peering through the mirror, my friend noticed that her hairdresser had pinned to her undershirt, a familiar triangular piece of cloth.

“Do you know what that is?” my friend asked.

After a slight hesitation, the hairdresser replied: “It’s a fylakto,” stressing the first syllable, in such a way as to indicate that he was not familiar with the term.

“Where did you get it from?” my friend continued.

“My grandmother gave it to me before she died,” came the response. “She always kept it hidden under her shirt and I was the only one that knew she had it. For some reason, it was her big secret. She took it out, gave it to me and told me to keep it secret and safe. I’ve always worn it because it makes me feel close to her.”

This chance enquiry and the discovery of the fylakto, led the hairdresser on a voyage of discovery where she discovered that her grandmother, also hailing from the Pontic region on the southern shores of the Black Sea, was in fact not Turkish but Greek and that she had been left behind during the genocide of the Pontic Greeks and brought up as a Turk by a Muslim family. While conforming outwardly to her adopted family’s culture, religion and language, it appears that she never forgot who she truly was, her fylakto, truly living up to its purpose, watching over her to make sure that she never forgot who she was. Given the secrecy in which she not only maintained her fylakto but also passed it on to her grand-daughter, it is evident that she would have felt, if not fear, then substantial enough pressure from the society in which she lived, not to be able to speak freely about her ethnic origins. This fylakto then, bequeathed in secret, was, more than a symbol, a veritable ark of truth and identity.

These days, Turkey has shifted its stance from a blanket denial of the genocide to a more subtle and no less insidious expression of regret for violence in which all communities suffered. This is an attempt to ‘spread the blame’ which no longer fools anyone, except those who have a vested interest in maintaining a silence about the genocide of the Christian inhabitants of Anatolia by the Ottomans, including a number of powerful nation states.

In Turkey itself, more and more people are beginning to question concepts of ethnic affiliation and how this impacts on state-defined conceptions of ‘Turkishness.’ This is particularly so, given while hitherto such subjects were taboo, an increasing number of people are looking at the events of the genocide, and in particular, at the plight of survivors, who like the Turkish hairdresser’s grandmother, were forced to suppress their identities. While that generation has largely disappeared, the discovery of a suppressed identity by their descendants is proving for the catalyst for introspection and debate.

This is nowhere more evident than in Turkish film, which is displaying a remarkable willingness to return to the events of the genocide and consider them critically. In the most recent example, the 2014 film “The Cut,” which was selected to compete for the Golden Lion at the 71st Venice International Film Festival, director Fatih Akin examines the story of an Armenian genocide survivor who travels the world seeking his surviving children. As a result, he has had to deal with death threats and has attempted to play down the message of the film, describing it to the Istanbul Armenian ‘Agos’ newspaper as an ‘adventure movie.’   Yet the desire for candour when assessing issues of identity within Turkey, predates this movie by a decade, and in particular can be symbolized by a remarkable 2003 Turkish movie, Waiting for the Clouds. Directed by Yeşim Ustaoğlu, it is based on a novel by Georgios Andreadis entitled “Tamama,” and was nominated in Montréal World Film Festival of 2004.

Set in the seventies, the plot revolves around issues of suppressed identity which come to the fore when an elderly woman Ayshe, loses her older sister and mysteriously, shuns the company of her fellow villages and instead, seems to display a strange interest in a foreign visitor whose name is Tanasis. Soon after, Ayshe travels to Greece to seek her hitherto unmentioned younger brother. As her young neighbor Mehmet discovers, Ayshe has in fact been born as Eleni in the Pontos and was adopted by a Turkish Muslim family during the events of the genocide. For the next fifty years, she has kept her identity a closely guarded secret, as well as being racked with guilt over seeing the safety and comfort of a familiar environment over the protection of her brother.

Reviewers have pointed out that the film appear to be inspired by or constantly referring to a series of movies by Theodoros Angelopoulos: the borders and their impact on the lives of human beings, as in The Suspended Step of the Stork; a tedious Odyssean search for a family member, as in Landscape in the Mist; the long-lost identity and the fusion of different cultures, as in Ulysses' Gaze and The Suspended Step of the Stork.  Even the differences between the films reinforce this intertextuality between them:  In Waiting for the Clouds, the idea of distance is emphasized, whereas Angelopoulos emphasizes the journey. We barely see Ayshe on the journey; rather, we see her at two different destinations. While the film does not permit us to see her cross the physical boundary, the border, her transcendence of the imagined boundaries that she, and others had created for her is manifest. In this voyage, her plight is the reverse of the hero of the 1969 Xanthopoulos classic: Η Οδύσσεια ενός Ξεριζωμένου.

Ustaoğlu states that her film was inspired by the repressive hyper-nationalistic political and social climate prevailing within Turkey in the seventies. She states that it was around this time that stories began to emerge of suppressed identity, stories that contrasted with the official propaganda about ‘one Turkish nation’: ”I think it's a pity that the idea of one nation means that elements of some cultures must be thrown away. The Turkish government has always been very sensitive about the unofficial part of our history, meaning anything about ethnic minorities. Regarding the Pontus Greek issue, it has long been taboo.”

Thankfully (for the integrity of the film) Ustaoğlu, through Ayshe/Eleni, is deftly able to argue that the objective properties of the community are less important than the imagined ones. Ayshe/Eleni does not ‘embrace Hellenism’ or ‘return to the fold.’ While deep in her subconscious, she imagines herself belonging to another nation and linguistic community, when she ventures outside her small village, she perceives that her imagined ‘true’ community, is foreign to her. She returns to her home, changed, but unburdened. In this artful way, Ustaoğlu shows just how complex the construction of an identity can be. She also cleverly positions the debate where it must lie: within Turkey. For all her past, Ayshe/Eleni is still Turkish and it is incumbent upon Turkish society to understand and accommodate her ethnic identity and her unique experience of history within its national narrative. 

Films such as these, made by Turkish directors, suggest that Turkish society itself, rather than the State is, of its own accord, moving towards a position where the need to address suppressed taboo issues of the past hundred years is becoming acute, as is the need for openness and pluralism within that society. As Ustaoğlu herself states: “I felt this was a part of Turkish history which had remained in the dark for too long. I hope this will have meaning not only for Turkish viewers, but citizens of any multicultural country where issues of identity are often problematic.” It is incumbent upon us to facilitate and nurture such praiseworthy developments, through a corresponding introspection of our own.

DEAN KALIMNIOU

kalymnios@hotmail.com

First published in NKEE on 16 May 2015

PONTOS: THE MOVIE

“Film-making, like sex, isn't a polite enterprise. It involves a lot of mess, sweat and tears, and the bottom line is, if somebody ain't screaming, you're not doing your job.” James Woods

Movies that deal with historical events are a labyrinth promising disaster at every turn. Not only is it necessary to faithfully reproduce the customs, environment and linguistic nuances of the period, or at least justify why these have been omitted, in the case of events whose factual elements are contested, the assertion of a particular ‘version’ of the ever elusive ‘truth’ in a post-modernist world can give rise to howls of derision. Even after one obtains mastery over the facts, their method of portrayal and particular ‘angle’ can make or break the film.
Movies about contested genocides, few in number, are a case in point. Elia Kazan’s seminal, Oscar-nominated and thoroughly moving 1963 film “America America” seems to be a coming of age movie, set amidst the Armenian and Greek genocides in Anatolia, ultimately leading to the physical and temporal conclusion that America is a haven from Old World strife and Old World values, more than anything else. Atom Agoyan’s 2002 film, ‘Ararat’ on the other hand, deals with the psychology, presuppositions and emotional toll of making a movie about genocide.
Enter into the quagmire of worthy precedents, Peter Stefanidis, former secretary of the Federation of Pontian Associations of Australia and a proud, second generation Pontian. His first foray into film-making: “Pontos,” launched on Sunday , 17 June at the Australian Centre for the Moving Image, is indeed a collection of profoundly moving images that offer a deep psychological insight into the lasting traumas created by genocide. Though only a short film, ‘Pontos’ manages in a few minutes, what Hollywood blockbusters cannot achieve in grinding hours: an insight into soul-blinding hatred, coupled with redemption and resolution. Indeed one would venture to say that what makes Peter Stefanidis’ film special is that the only presupposition that seems to exist in his mind in making his movie, is that the human condition cries out for a coming to terms with the past. As such, this unique film is a lasting testament to the need for reconciliation and tolerance and I think that it is fitting that it was being screened in Federation Square, the centrepoint of the intricate mosaic of peoples that make up our unique Victorian society.
Indeed, the fact that such a film, dealing with events that occurred almost one hundred years ago, in a land thousands of kilometres away is a living testament to how history continues to affect people and societies long after events have transpired. For Pontians, in many respects, the clock stopped after 1922. The tens of thousands of Pontians that reside in Australia today have not only had to deal with the decimation of their ancestors and their removal from their ancestral homelands but also to preserve a lost culture. That movies of this nature can therefore be screened in Melbourne in the year 2007 is as lasting testament to a remarkable and vital people.
‘Pontos’ is a movie that inverts the natural order of things in that resolution and redemption is screened on a dark backdrop of despair, whereas the brutal crimes of racial killing are juxtaposed against light, almost inviting scenery. An elderly former Turkish soldier, Kemal, played by Lee Mason, sits, looking at photographs taken at the time of the genocide. He is alone, in a darkened and sparse room. On the table next to him, there is a Pontian dagger and an ashtray, a profound symbol of the remnants of a holocaust. Kemal looks painfully at the photos as the scene switches from his living room to the Pontian countryside. There Kemal is young. He has a crazed gleam in his eye that is almost inviting and attractive. As a man who has transgressed the boundaries of the permissible, Lee Mason skillfully plays Kemal as a man who evokes trust, only to betray it with gusto and a good amount of sadism thrown in. Blinded by hatred, his solution to the problems of the age seem to have their resolution only in killing. Thus we see him and his men round up the wife and daughter of the Pontian hero Pantzo and slay them while disturbingly displaying pleasure at their appointed task. Kemal kills with the virtuosity and grace of a ballet dancer. There is no room for hot-headedness here. To him, killing is more than just an art. It is a science. To look into his empty, soulless eyes is to imbibe inhumanity.
The look of horror on Pantzo’s face (played by Ross Black), as he wrestles with the enormity of his grief and his desire for revenge is profound and is the mark of a consummate actor. It is a look I have seen before, in my own grandfather’s face as he described to me his harrowing tale of feeling Anatolia in 1922 and sent shivers down my spine. Pantzo flees his would-be slayers and seems to adopt their solution to the moral and political crisis that has befallen his homeland. In a scene the exact inverse of the previous one, Pantzo and his men hold Kemal, his wife and daughter at their mercy. Pantzo struggles to maintain his sense of humanity as Kemal, on his knees, with Pantzo’s dagger drawn at his throat, taunts him mercilessly and Kemal’s wife and daughter scream in horror. The entire moral conflict can be read in the lines of Pantzo’s face. The horrible death of his wife and daughter flash before his eyes, but he is no killer. In anger and disgust, he throws, the tool of murder, his dagger, and its scabbard, a potent symbol of the justification of the taking of human life at the murderer and goes on his way.
It is typical of the sensitivity and humanity of Stefanidis that he permits Kemal to be the vehicle of redemption in his movie. Years later, it is the elderly Kemal, still clutching to the weapon that granted him a second chance, who, playing the haunting scenes over and over in his mind and reflecting upon his crimes, feels repentance. The affection one feels for this erstwhile killing-machine is as sudden as it is overwhelming and it is the mark of a master film-maker with deep insights into the human psyche that Stefanidis can humanize and dehumanize his characters with consummate dexterity, keeping them for most of the film, teetering precariously on a tightrope between the two extremes. The remarkable and seemingly unstudied ability of Ross Black and Lee Mason to portray a gamut of extreme emotions in no small part augments this.
The genesis of the film, as we learnt in the documentary “The Making of Pontos,” screened directly after the movie, was an injunction by Network Ten personality George Donikian to Peter Stefanidis upon him presenting to the annual Pontian Genocide Workshop a short clip about that event, to come back the next year with a documentary. The ever-resourceful Stefanidis, enrolled himself in a film course and immersed himself in the genre. The end process of his steep learning curve, his calling upon friendships, obtaining advice, painstakingly researching the period and having to confront his own feelings about an event that blighted the people he loves so much is ‘Pontos’, a labour of love film that confers absolution upon the repentant and shies away from the crass nationalism that has hitherto dominated our discourse. In a revealing section of the ‘Making,’ actors Ross Black and Lee Mason reveal how they taunted each other, and forced themselves to overstep the boundaries of the friendship to ‘hate’ each other, verbally abusing and fighting on and off the set, so as to truly gain an understanding of the depth of feelings that would permit mass killing. The insights they gained were as intense as they were revolting.
At the premiere of this remarkable movie, financed and created solely by Stefanidis, the point was made that the movie was created in spite of and without the support of the various Pontian organizations whose fruitless presence in our community seems to revolve only around creating internecine strife. That a former secretary of the Pontian Federation of these organizations can say this, is a tremendous blight upon their existence and proof that in their navel-gazing, their often brutal, ill-mannered and disgusting suppression of youth endeavours, there can no longer be any justification for their bankrupt existence under their present administrators, save to feed their committees member’s egos and to act as a vehicle for the propagation of the filth that masquerades as a preservation of their dim conception of their own ‘culture.’ In doing so, these would-be Noahs have steered the Ark of Pontian culture aground upon the rocks of jealousy, ignorance and assimilation.
The Cartesian Stefanidis on this point, is vehement as he is insightful: “When I was making this movie, I just wanted to scream. I wanted to scream at our apathetic youth, our inebriated, spineless and useless community leaders, at our uncultured, uncaring and selfish Australian counterparts and at the cruel and horrible people that not only took our lands away but whose descendants want a thank you when it give us permission to see those same lands again. I feel like I can breathe again.
For me it was therapeutic, and necessary. I hope that it offers some relief to others. I really hope that it informs our first generation Pontians that we haven't forgotten. I also hope that youth see this and realise that many are NOT doing enough to help maintain the culture, and above all, being Greek and a Pontian is a privilege. The privilege does not begin with a Kotsari and end with a Serra. Anyone who believes that should join the oldies in a chorus of "I think that I am Pontian therefore I am!”
Quite apart then from his talents as a film-maker, Stefanidis’ impassioned cry is a manifesto for the cultural emancipation of the second generation. Rather than lament the marginalisation and exclusion of the youth from Greek community affairs, Stefanidis points the way forward, through bravely overstepping and transcending all obstacles coming between him and his dream. As such, he is a visionary worthy of emulation.
The Pontian song that deals with the coveted renaissance of its civilization emphatically states: «Η Ρωμανία κι αν πέρασεν, ανθεί και φέρει κι άλλο.» We take your leave this week, expressing another pious hope in parallel: «Το πρώτο έργο του Στεφανίδη κι αν πέρασεν, ανθεί και φέρει κι άλλο.» Shairetias.
DEAN KALIMNIOU

kalymnios@hotmail.com

First published in NKEE on 25 June 2007

ON MACEDONIANS, CHALDEANS AND OTHER FIGMENTS OF OUR IMAGINATION.

"I don't get it. If Macedonia is Greek, how come the Macedonians don't speak Greek?" the elderly Assyrian man asked. I launched for the third time, into a detailed historical account of the history of Macedonia, from times ancient, through to Byzantine, Ottoman and beyond. Half an hour later, the elderly man smoothed his luxurious moustache and asked: "So the Macedonians are not Greek. Then why are you Greeks saying that Macedonia is Greek?"
Explaining what Macedonomachs around the world term "historical truths," should not be so difficult. It was time to change tactic. "Put it this way," I answered. "What if I told you that you are not Assyrian, but rather a Chaldean?" My aged interlocutor turned various hues of purple. I was convinced that even his white moustache had turned a darker shade. "What?" He spluttered. "That's garbage! There is no such thing as a Chaldean people! There never was. This is an identity that was made up in order to divide our people! Look at the history.."
Scholars generally agree that historically, there was no such thing as a Chaldean people, just as most scholars agree that the ancient Macedonians were not a people, but rather a sub-set of broader Greek tribal confederations. Yet tell the approximately 700,000 Syriac-speaking people that identify as Chaldeans that they are in fact Assyrian and tell the millions of Slavonic-speaking people that identify as 'Macedonians' that they are in fact Bulgarian and pandemonium ensues. It seems therefore that we are not the only people struggling with what we term, 'historical distortions,' or in Greek: «πλαστογράφηση της ιστορίας.»As is the case with many people whose origins lie in western Macedonia, theoretical discussions of identity are keenly felt within many Assyrian and Chaldean families, who are compelled to 'choose sides,' providing useful parallels with our own "name dispute," but also making such choices all the more sad and poignant.
Variously described as Syrians or Assyrians in ancient Greek texts as far back as Herodotus, ( I derive perverse pleasure out of telling Assyrian friends that it was we Greeks who put the Ass into Ass-yrian), the modern day Assyrians who, up until the Assyrian genocide perpetrated by the Ottomans, the genocide of Simele perpetrated by the Iraqi army and the genocide perpetrated by ISIS, resided in the lands of Mesopotamia shared between Turkey, Syria, Iran and Iraq, trace their ancestry to the ancient Assyrian Empire. Conquered by the Persians, who subjected them to immense persecution for their religious beliefs, conquered in turn by the Muslims who unleashed even more vicious persecution upon them, theirs is a story of survival despite overwhelming odds. Along the way, they played an immense and now largely uncredited role in preserving ancient Greek civilization, for it was the Assyrian monks who translated key works of the ancient orders for the benefit of their Arabic masters, in time for these to be appropriated by the Crusaders and brought to the West. Furthermore, up until the 17th century, the primary liturgical language in the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate of Antioch, was Syriac, the language of the Assyrians and saints such as Saint John of Damascus and Saint Ephraim the Syrian, were native speakers of Syriac.
The Syriac-speaking peoples have entered into the twenty-first century not as one but as three distinct peoples. Their identities have been largely created by those that have ruled over them and reflect religious, rather than ethnic or linguistic differences within an otherwise relatively homogenous people. Syriac speaking adherents of the Nestorian Church of the East, once widespread from Byzantium to Mongolia, as well as former members whose ancestors converted to Protestantism, generally identify as Assyrian. They can point to a long, documented history of a continued presence in their ancestral homelands. Interest in them and fascination with their links to ancient Assyria emerged in the nineteenth century when British missionaries and archaeologists 'discovered" them, along with ancient Assyria during their excavations in the area. In many respects then, the western reconstruction of the Greek and Assyrian identities has followed surprisingly similar paths.
Whereas up until the nineteen thirties, the members of the Monophysite Syriac Orthodox Church identified themselves as Assyrian, due to pressure from Syria's Baath party, they began to refer to themselves as Arabs and lately, as "Arameans." In Sweden, where a large Syriac Orthodox expatriate community exists, the community is split down the middle, with one half supporting the Assyriska football team (and hence stating their affiliation with the Assyrian identity), and the other half, the "Aramean" Syrianska football team, in a manner reflecting similar debates about ethnic identity in the early history of the Heidelberg United soccer club here in Melbourne.
It is the Catholic Syriac-speakers who identify not as Assyrian but as Chaldeans. This is because the Chaldean Catholic Church was founded as a Uniate church for Assyrians, in Cyprus, in the sixteenth century. In choosing the term Chaldean, the Catholic church sought to link the Assyrians with the lands from which Abraham came, according to the Bible. Most members of this church are descendants of Nestorians who converted to Catholicism en masse in the late nineteenth century in the hopes that adherence to a 'western' church would save them from persecution. As such, their former affiliation should be almost within living memory. Indeed, the late Patriarch of the Chaldean Church, Raphael Bidawid, commented in 2003: The name 'Chaldean' does not represent an ethnicity... We have to separate what is ethnicity and what is religion... I myself, my sect is Chaldean, but ethnically, I am Assyrian." Nonetheless, apart from a few exceptions, Chaldeans today are convinced that they are not Assyrian, instead drawing their heritage from the (ethnically similar) Babylonians who, paradoxically enough differ from the historical Chaldeans. Indeed, most will react with anger or incredulity when taken through the historical evidence indicating that their chosen identity does not accord with history or ethnography, citing spurious folklore or discredited history in defence of their claim. It is quite amusing to sit in on a heated debate between a Chaldean and an Assyrian about the ethnic origins of Nebuchadnezzar, until it becomes disquietingly apparent that the same vitriol, the same appeal to emotions rather than to logic and the same distortion of historical sources takes place as in an argument between an Greek, a FYROMIAN and an Albanian about the ethnic origins of Alexander the Great and his Adidas footwear.
Patriotic Assyrians lamenting the sundering of their diverse tribes cannot understand why the world, and especially friendly countries such as Australia which play host to both communities, allow the Chaldeans to persist in their historical delusions, much as deeply perturbed Greeks find it strange that despite constant re-hashings of the historical evidence, the world continues to indulge those who ethnically identify as 'Macedonians,' their fantasies, even joining in, by agreeing to call them by their desired names. In the meantime, while Assyrian and Greek uber-patriots become enraged each time the mainstream media refers to 'Macedonia' (ie. FYROM) or the Chaldeans, these appellations are so widespread that even Greek politicians are now referring to FYROMites as Macedonians and then excusing themselves as having made a 'gaffe.' Whereas enlightened Greeks offer 'Slav-Macedonian' as a compromise solution, enlightened Assyrians refer to an 'Assyro-Chaldean' identity, in an effort to bridge the gap, an effort, the majority of Chaldeans reject, primarily because they have no need of an Assyrian identity and possibly, because the 'Assyro' is placed here before the 'Chaldean.'
The fact of the matter is that ancient history used as an anachronism to imagine a nation, is not the only determinant of ethnic or national consciousness. Politics too plays a major role as can be evidenced by the existence of a German, Austrian, Swiss German, Luxembourgish and Liechtensteinian national identity, for a multitude of German speaking peoples, or a separate Ukrainian, Belarussian, Rusyn and Russian ethnic identity for speakers of dialects of the Russian language. Similarly, of late, we are witnessing the possible birth of a "Cypriot" ethnic identity, with more and more Cypriots distinguishing themselves from 'Greeks,' especially in the diaspora. As such, while there may not have been a 'Macedonian' or Chaldean ethnicity or consciousness in the past, it cannot be doubted that one exists now, valid or otherwise, because the world has deemed it expedient to allow its creation and millions have subscribed to it and have lived within it, for at least three generations, enough time to allow historic delusion to become overlooked and the comparative reality of living with a manufactured identity to become history itself. Indeed, if Malcolm Turnbull's smug asides are to be taken seriously, Australia is a haven for all those fleeing the conflict arising from such delusions.
While naming or shaming those who make slips of the tongue is fruitless and counter-productive in the face of the inexorable grind of the steamroller of delusion, both the Assyrian and the Greek communities will fight the good fight, for morally, they can do naught else, continuously hoping for "historic justice," as one fervent patriot put it recently, as the world and the new ethnic identities that are constantly being formed, constructed, dissolved and re-imagined, pass us all by.

DEAN KALIMNIOU

kalymnios@Hotmail.com

First published in NKEE on Saturday 30 April 2016

LOVING THINE ENEMY

Χριστός Ανέστη. The news that the Victorian branch of the RSL would this year permit descendants of Turkish troops who fought the Australian Anzacs to march side by side with the ANZACs’ descendants did not rouse feelings of outrage in me, as it did in other compatriots. The First World War took place some ninety years ago, relations between the two erstwhile enemy countries have been cordial ever since and nothing is more eloquent a symbol of forgiveness than demonstrating to one’s former enemy that old enmity is laid aside, than inviting him to honour dead ancestors together. It is a magnanimous gesture on behalf of the RSL, similar in calibre to the monument set up by the stout-hearted Cretans, to the fallen murderous and barbaric Nazi soldiers of the Second World War and the keystone in a process of reconciliation and purging of the toxins of ill will.
What I did find objectionable and implausible however, was Victorian RSL President Major-General McLachlan’s assertion that the Ottomans were a “very honourable enemy.” It is an assertion that does not seem to be borne up by historical fact. One cannot help but think that its timing comes cynically close to media reports of the parlous state of Australian memorials on the Kallipolis peninsula and is a sop intended for the maintenance of eroding soil, as well as privileges. Finally, it is an assertion that offends the sensitivities of significant portion of Australian society and as such, it is indicative of the regard the RSL appears to have for that sector that does not fit into the Anglo-Celtic ‘ANZAC’ stereotype, regardless of their efforts both as allies and subjects.
The Major-General’s arbitrary selection of “honourable” enemies seems to contradict eyewitness testimony from Australian prisoners of war, notable George Handsley of the Light Horse Regiment, whose ordeals were published in 1919 in his book “Two and a Half Years a Prisoner of War in Turkey.” Documenting his ordeal, Handsley wrote: “This camp was described by the prisoners who had been there some time as the worst in Turkey, a ‘hell on earth.’ Floggings were given daily on the slightest pretext and very often we received thrashings for offences of which we were ourselves totally ignorant.”
Further telling accounts are archived in the Australian War Memorial in Canberra. According to the official memorial website: “Food was poor, medical care primitive and all experienced a casual brutality. Many laboured to build the Taurus railway in southern Turkey in extremes of heat and cold. “It was hell,” an Australian recalled, “we had to fight to keep alive.” Indeed, it is further stated that of the Australians captured by the Ottomans in World War One, one man in four died in captivity. "
Just how ‘honourable’ the ‘enemy’ in question was is encapsulated in the British White Paper titled ‘British Prisoners of War in Turkey, published in 1918, which includes the following excerpt: “It is a story of national crime. The Turks killed our men slowly, deliberately and with a luxury of torture.” Is the President of the RSL therefore displaying a flawed understanding of history or are we witnessing something more insidious, a spin-doctoring of history to achieve a particular aim?
This would come as to surprise at any rate. In considering whether the appellation of “honourable enemy” befits the Ottomans, one immediately recalls the alleged ethnic cleansing and alleged genocide of alleged Armenians, Greeks and Assyrians at the same time that the ANZACs were battling to take Kallipolis. Yet is it worthwhile to point out to the Major-General and others like him that the Ottomans were only able to fortify themselves in Kallipolis after cleansing the peninsula of its native Greek population? Probably not. For the Major-General’s comments clearly show that what allegedly happened to an alleged bunch of dagoes, who by the way were fervent supporters of the Triple Entente and in the case of the Assyrians actively enlisting in the British army, is totally irrelevant, falling as it does outside the canon of pure Australian military history.
Funnily enough, the Australians’ obsession over honourable enemies is paradoxical when juxtaposed against their own conduct during the war, especially towards their own minorities. At the commencement of the First World War, Greece sought to remain neutral, its people sympathizing with the Entente and its Germanophile King, with the Kaiser. Thus until 1917, after our most honourable allies bombarded and occupied Piraeus, the Greeks of Australia were treated with suspicion and contempt, despite their vociferous support for the war and the fact that no less than fifty seven members of the Greek community volunteered to fight for the Australian forces.
Thus, though as Hugh Gilchrist tells us in Volume II of his monumental work: ‘Australians and Greeks,’ Greek shopkeepers decided to donate all their profits to the Australian war effort and the Greek Community of Melbourne and Victoria bravely denounced Greece’s decision to remain neutral at a meeting in Evangelismos Church, this is how the Australian press saw Greek affirmations of loyalty and patriotism: “Da Greeka people off Melbourne gotta together one big crowd last night and saya altogetha and shout… Venizelos he good man, we helpa send him big telegram and saya you plucky chup, bog in, ‘ooray. Then we eata steaka oyst, drinka wine of country, go home verr’ happy. Ah! Brava chap da Greek.”
The method in which honourable Australians tried to convince Greeks to become honorable allies was by beating them up. In Newcastle, Brisbane, Sydney mobs ransacked Greek businesses whereas in Perth, Kalgoorlie and Boulder, mob violence against Greeks was extensive and brutal, while honourable Australian soldiers ate in their restaurants and refused to pay for their food. The damage inflicted upon Perth Greeks by honourable Australians was so extensive that in October 1918, the Acting Prime Minister received a letter pointing out that “some of the Greeks had been forced into bankruptcy and nearly all had been turned out onto the streets,” whereas the Darwin anti-Greek riots were attributed thus: “Drink…was at the bottom of the trouble, the principals in which were some whites and Greeks.”
Despite the fact that Greeks were treated as sub-human and their genuine protestations of solidarity and donations spurned, they acted honourably by turning the other cheek and not allowing this to influence or in any way hinder their commitment to their country, so much so in fact that the authorities that spied on them and held back their citizenship, were forced to admit that they were decent and law-abiding people. The apogee of such patriotism was exemplified in Brisbane, where Hector Vasilios, an eleven year old boy who had spent much of his small savings on little gifts for the Australian returned soldiers was accidentally killed when he stepped off a footpath and was hit by a passing car carrying returned servicemen. The RSL would do well to remember this.
The RSL would also do well to remember that as allies, the Greeks of Lemnos and other nearby islands were instrumental in supplying Australian troops and seeing to their medical care during the time of their ill-fated Kallipolis campaign. Further the RSL should perhaps better extend the appellation ‘honourable’ to those Greek families that had their homes and villages burned down or family members tortured and executed by the Nazis in reprisal for their hiding of Australian troops during the Second World War. This is a blood debt that can never be repaid, though some formal gratitude would not go astray, as would some sensitivity and discernment.
History is a concept considered differently by nations. For Greeks, it is the yardstick by which all current and future progress is measured and as such we have interminably long memories, coupled with a deep sense of obligation, solidarity and affection for those that have joined us in our suffering. The Major-General’s comments on the other hand suggest that the custodians of Australia’s military history have rather short, or selective memories and that one’s heritage can be forgotten or bandied about at will in order to curry favour and expediency. Let it be so, if the lily-white historical narrative cannot bear to give up its intrinsic and underlying colouration. Yet at the sounding of the last post, when the Greek-Australians continue to give so much to their adopted country without seeking reward and caring not whether formal gratitude is forthcoming or whether it is afforded to the undeserving, in the setting of the sun and in morning, we shall remember them, lest they forget.

DEAN KALIMNIOU
kalymnios@hotmail.com

First published in NKEE on 1 May 2006

WILDE DEMOCRACY

Dorian Gray, according to Oscar Wilde's famous novel, never grew old. He remained beautiful and indulged in all sort of vice, this being represented in a secret portrait that aged instead of him and became more and more hideous as the incredible Dorian became lapsed further into evil. Dorian's viewing of the portrait caused his demise, as he was not able to come terms with the hideousness of the evil he had become. One could have been forgiven for sharing the enthusiasm that accompanied President George W. Bush's portrayal of the world as her saw it, in his recent State of the Union speech. Amidst jubilation, he announced that as he took up his democratically elected position, he did so sharing the privilege with the leaders of Afghanistan and soon, Iraq. He also cautioned Syria and Iran for adopting a course of action against American interests, in the case of Syria, harbouring terrorism and in the case of Iran, of developing a nuclear weapons program, a privilege which presumably is only to be enjoyed by the 'civilised,' western world. The president's message was clear and unequivocal. Those who disagree with the premise that western democracy is not a beautiful thing, do so at their own peril.
It is a most interesting characteristic of democracy that since its inception by the Athenians, its proponents have tried to impose this 'egalitarian' system, predicated upon freedom of choice, upon others by force. The Athenians for example constructed a whole empire of client city-states after the Persian Wars by removing the age-old oligarchic system and imposing a democracy (subservient always to Athens) in its place. Athenian democracy voted for the extermination of the entire population of Lesbos for its disobedience, while a flotilla of the Athenian navy attacked and occupied Samos after it decided to abandon the democratic system, in favour of oligarchy. So much for freedom of choice and winning the hearts and minds of the demos.
In parallel paradox, the democratic elections imposed upon Iraq by a military invasion are touted by the Australian and U.S media as a success. The turn out was respectable if one takes account of the insurgents threatening people with reprisals if they should vote and in one case, celebrated by the media as an example of democracy permeating the echelons of Iraq's social fabric, Iraqi villages actually killed the insurgents who tried to punish them for voting. How happy we then are that we have taught our converts to kill in order to defend the system of values we have taught them.
Yet the elections in Iraq are not a success, nor do they represent a triumph of democracy. Unfortunately, either the West lacks the depth or willfully chooses to ignore the complex religious and ethnic mix that completely alters the way any political system can be implemented in Iraq. Almost immediately, 'democratic' Iraq has been fractured along racial or religious lies, with each group vying to dominate the other.
This can be evidenced more so than anywhere in the plight of the Assyrian population of Iraq, a plight that Western journalists have deliberately chosen not to focus on and which belies the official rhetoric that the elections were a success. In a brazen move, the Kurdistan Democratic Party headed by warlord Masoud Barzani, which practically controls the whole of the north of Iraq in autonomy from the Baghdad government, has prevented voting by the Assyrian Christians of the Nineveh Plain. According to a series of reports from inside Iraq, the KDP effectively blocked the delivery of ballot boxes to six major Assyrian towns and villages in the Plains around Mosul including Baghdeda, Bartilla, Karemlesh, Shekhan, Ain Sifne and Bahzan.
Thousands of would be voters were left stranded outside polling places awaiting an opportunity to cast their ballots. Inquiries to voting authorities brought frequent promises that the ballot boxes were en route only to result in a series of disappointments throughout the day. Infuriated Assyrians filled the streets of Baghdeda, the largest Assyrian town in the Nineveh Plain and demonstrated against the KDP's overt disenfranchisement of Assyrians.According to Iraqi sources, the ballot boxes had been stored in Arbil, the stronghold of the KDP. The resulting unavailability of ballot boxes denied the vote to 150,000 Assyrians and 250,000 Yezidi, Shabak, and Turkoman voters. This was the culmination of a long and organized period of intimidation, beatings, beheadings, burnings, and mutilations of Assyrian Christians in the Nineveh Plain. Just two weeks before the elections, Archbishop Basil George Casmusa of the Syriac Catholic church was kidnapped and Assyrian homes were occupied by Kurds in an attempt to drive out Assyrians from their homes and to intimidate potential remaining voters into staying home on election day. The KDP's specific targeting of the Nineveh Plain is no mere coincidence. The Nineveh Plain contains the last remaining stronghold of predominantly Assyrian towns and villages in the immediate environs of the ruins of Nineveh, the ancient Assyrian capital. Significantly, the Nineveh Plain has been touted by a wide spectrum of Assyrian political leaders, including foremost among them those of the Assyrian Democratic Movement as the centre of the Assyrian self-administered area provided for in Article 53(d) of the Transitional Administrative Law.
By their latest political maneuver, the KDP has effectively eliminated any possible Assyrian representation from the Nineveh Plain in the upcoming Iraqi National Assembly. Whereas the KDP had earlier paid lip service to representing the rights of all minorities in northern Iraq, it appears that this party, referred to as a terrorist party in the eighties by the U.S, when Saddam Hussein was the West's friend and Iran was the enemy and which has received millions in American aid as a 'reward' for is anti-Hussein stance, is determined, exactly as it did under the Ottoman Empire, to purge the area under its control of its ancient Christian and Muslim minorities, in favour of an ethnically homogenous Kurdistan.
The Kurdish scheme is an attack on the integrity of Iraq as a whole and belies the assertion that the recent elections will succeed in creating an integrated Iraq where all creeds and minorities will be respected. It cannot be seriously conceived that Barzani, who has enjoyed free reign over northern Iraq for the past twenty years, or his peshmerga army, will permit political expression or even effectively protect the rights of persons not enmeshed in the intricate nets of Kurdish tribal alliances. In effect, if under Saddam Hussein, Assyrian, Yezidi and Turkomans were denied the means of national self-expression and were pressured to call themselves Arabs, in today's northern Iraq, a Kurdification of these minorities is taking place along similar lines.
Predictably enough, the West is unwilling to truly police free and fair elections. The mere rumour that 350,000 or so members of minority groups, relevant for their symbolic import as examples of a free and tolerant Iraq should have rung alarm bells. Yet the West is beholden to the violent Barzani to ensure Kurdish lip service to the democratic process, as long as that means that his own hold on power in his self-appointed fiefdom is not disturbed.
Consequently, the West does not really care about democracy in Iraq. Had it truly had a vision for the country, it would have encouraged its people to decide on what type of country they would like, by holding a referendum on a Constitution that would provide such a framework and then electing a government to uphold it. By doing the opposite and doing nothing to ensure free access to the ballot box by large swathes of the population, or to intervene in order to prevent the West has ensured Iraq's further fragmentation and the total failure of the democratic process in that country. Barzani's conduct, in occupying the territory appointed by the Transitional Administrative Law earmarked for Assyrian self-administration proves that no Constitution will hinder those who bear arms to achieve their aims. Significantly, there has been absolutely no discussion as to the demilitarization of the KDP, a condition precedent for true peace and stability in an integrated Iraq.
Today in Iraq, a regime that supposedly invaded the country in order to free it, is presiding over the ethnic cleansing, subjugating and violent mistreatment of its minorities. Assyrians are already speaking of a second genocide. It says much for the concept of people power that though 80% of expatriate Iraqis in the US are actually Assyrian, that the US, blinded by its own messianic vision, does nothing to protect this and other minorities.
In his State of the Union speech, George W. Bush appealed to the Iranian people to "stand for liberty." However, concepts of "liberty" and "democracy" as these have been misapplied and mismanaged in Iraq provide a negative precedent to those who would "stick their necks out" and espouse Western political systems. In the case of Plato, frustration with the perverted Athenian democracy that would condemn the brilliant and saintly Socrates to death caused him to write the Republic, the earliest manual for fascism and repressive government ever to be written. Macchiavelli, railing at the abuses of the powerful in the Florentine Republic also produced similar reactionary material, in the form of The Prince. Let us therefore beware lest the mask should fall, lest we are compelled to view our own portrait of Dorian Gray, and see how ugly we have become.

DEAN KALIMNIOU
kalymnios@hotmail.com

First published in NKEE on 14 February 2005

ΕΝ ΑΓΑΛΛΙΑΣΕΙ (IN JOYFUL STRAINS)

Εὐφραίνεσθε πάντες Αὐστραλοί,
χοῦν χρυσόν ἔχομεν
καί  διἀ τόν ἡμέτερον κάματον, πλοῦτον,
ἡ δε οἱκία ἡμῶν, πόντου περιβάλλεται…

ὅτι ἐλεύθεροι γάρ καί νέοι ἐσμέν,

Superannuated Neos Kosmos writer and culinary doyen Dimitris Tsahuridis was, in the days before his cultural castration, wont to enter supermarkets of his choice, stand before the fruit aisle and launch, in his light, aesthetically pleasing baritone, into the strains of “Australians All Let us Rejoice…” to the mystification of fellow shoppers, since, by coincidence or celestial design, those supermarkets would invariably be patronised by newly arrived fellow citizens possessed of less than a nodding acquaintance with our glorious national anthem. To this day, I cannot enter a Woolworths without being gripped with the irrepressible desire to belt out the second stanza of our national ode: the one no one can ever remember.

Try as they might, and the magnitude of their efforts are, admittedly, questionable, the administrators of this great continent have, ever since the official institution of the ditty as our official anthem by Gough Whitlam in 1974, not been able to engrave the words of our country’s canticle into the hearts of its non-English speaking in origin citizens. Ample proof can be provided at the annual Antipodes Festival, the Independence Day March, or even the Cyprus Rally, where everyone, even fourth generation Greek-Australians exhibit the ability to lisp each and every word of the Greek National Anthem, but no one seems to know the entire words to the Australian one, except perhaps, for Kaiti Georgiou.

Those who blame the orchestration advance a prima facie plausible argument. After all “Advance Australia Fair” was composed in 1878, in the era of the Music Hall and Gilbert and Sullivan, hardly a melodic heritage shared by First Peoples, or post War immigrants to the country. Yet, the equally inane music to the Greek National Anthem, was only composed a decade before, in 1865, by Mantzaros, who specialised in light Italian operas. Shades of Verdi notwithstanding, the strains of the Greek anthem continue to tug at the heartstrings of diasporan Greeks like no other song except maybe, the Υπερμάχω hymn to the Theotokos, the melismata of which  have, before my eyes, reduced tattoo-branded, unshaven, snarling muscular gentlemen of limited spelling skills, into quivering sensitive, genuflecting softies. And that is merely the back-up vocals.

It is for this reason that I have come to realise that my erstwhile exhortation, to the august Dimitris Tsahuridis that perhaps his patriotic skills would receive a better reception among our tribe if the Australian National Anthem were translated into ecclesiastical Greek and chanted as a troparion, or in a plagal of the fourth tone kontakion, in the form proposed above, will do nothing to win the hearts and minds of the Greek-Australian populace, even if it does inculcate within them, superficial sentiments of awe and reverence. For the problem does not appear to lie within the music.

Recently, a close friend opined sagely that the only way that “Advance Australia Fair,” or indeed any other anthem that may replace it in the future can gain the acceptance of and properly move those who do not belong to the dominant cultural group, is if its verses were translated into every single community language, including Modern, as opposed to koine Greek (although my argument, that more Anglo-Australians are conversant with koine, rather than the modern form still stands), and that these translations, be also afforded equal status with the English version, so that each group could feel just as Australian singing the anthem in their own tongue. This would, if it were effected, encapsulate the essence of multiculturalism, in that it would demonstrate that the pathways to the Australian identity can assume many linguistic forms, without excluding or privileging any. It would also occupy the minds of generations of ingenious students, tasked with the pursuit of composing smutty parodies, in their mother tongues.

Neos Kosmos, in an article of 4 January 2021, postulated a plausible modern Greek translation of the anthem, in its recently amended form: «Αυστραλοί, ας ευφρανθούμε όλοι/ Επειδή είμαστε ενωμένοι και ελεύθεροι/ Έχουμε τη χρυσή γη και πλούτο για την εργασία μας…» By rights, this Greek version should cause us to stand ramrod straight, hands over hearts, our chests swelling in pride at our musical inclusion within the broader fold. And it was when reading this translation in my own language, where I was able, like never before, to appreciate and weigh the significance of each and every word, that I finally realised why the Australian National Anthem, has made me feel so uneasy every time I hear it, and so apprehensive, every time, I am compelled to sing it.

The sentiments of this anthem, its aspirations, say nothing of the Native Peoples of this country. They in no way mention the violent occupation of the continent and the assumption by the dominant cultural group of a sovereignty that was never ceded to it, not by its “traditional owners,” according to the platitude we all now have been trained to mouth, but rather, by its rightful owners. We may not be able or willing to turn the clock back, but if we truly empathise with the First Peoples of this country and acknowledge both their suffering and their loss, the least we can do is to encapsulate this in our foundation hymn. By not doing so, and singing this anthem, we, the constituent ethnic groups who arrived in this country at the behest of the usurping dominant cultural group, and who organise ourselves, express and manifest our ethno-cultural heritage in forms mandated and prescribed by that same dominant cultural group, acknowledge as legitimate, their sovereignty over this land and as such, are complicit in the usurpation of the hegemony of Australia’s First Peoples and the effacement of the violent nation of this act, as a continuing process.

Viewed from the perspective, Advance Australia Fair is the mirror image of the Greek National Anthem. Whereas the Greek National Anthem constitutes a re-assumption of sovereignty in the face of violent occupation, the current Australian National Anthem is one that comes after conquest, accepting such violent conquest by not mentioning it, and in its aftermath, inviting all and sundry to rally and espouse the aspirations of the conqueror. These are sentiments that stand in diametric opposition to the Greek people’s understanding of nationhood and to expect us to subscribe to them, is to force upon us, the completely alien dominant cultural ontopathology, one compounded by the fact that this group have, in certain times of our history, also fought for our motherland’s freedom.

The recent amendment to Advance Australia Fair, is thus deeply disquieting. In the previous (more honest) version, the dominant cultural group had no qualms in admitting that they were newcomers to this land, (“for we are young and free”), and chronologically speaking, so were the rest of the migrant groups. The amendment of this verse (“for we are one and free”) assumes or rather demands a unanimity of purpose understanding and participation within the broader social fabric that we cannot all possibly share. It elides the issue of appropriation and asserts a discourse in which all others coalesce around and serve that of the dominant group. Rather than accommodating and respecting our First Peoples, the new wording re-enacts their subjugation and disarms any of their claims for redress, restitution or reconciliation. It silences their history. It obscures and marginalises their own conception of country. In this Anthem, the discourse appears to be conducted in the language of the dominant culture, by segments of the dominant culture, with the terms of reference and values developed and imposed by those segments of dominant culture, for the purposes of the perpetuation of the dominant cultural hegemony, with that dominant culture determining, as always, who will be included or united, whose experiences will be left unmentioned and what form any lip service to those who have been disenfranchised and subjugated will take.

The reason why this is so is mystifying since so much work has been done to  recognise the suffering of the Stolen Generation and to acknowledge Native Title in this country. There is a broad consensus in Australia, that the First Peoples are vitally important and must be recognised as such. Having such vital issues unaddressed in our National Anthem, is therefore an anomaly.  Migrant communities, especially our own, whose modern identity has been framed by regenesis in the wake of violent invasion, conquest and genocide, are placed in an embarrassing position. We cannot be complicit in the obfuscation of history, even if this is undertaken by those who abrogated to themselves the right to allow us to settle here, for we know that this right was illegitimate. In this respect, it is fascinating to consider that the word ἰθαγενής, which we use for “native” or aboriginal literally meant “straight-born,” in ancient Greek. According to Plato, it bore connotations of legitimacy, a fascinating semantic link to the campaign to acknowledge Australian First Peoples in the constitution.

We look forward to a time when our Anthem truly reflects already existing broad societal consensus about  who we are, and the complexity of how far we have come, so that ἐν ἀγαλλιάσει ἄσωμεν: Aὐστραλίς, προάγου περικαλλής.

DEAN KALIMNIOU

kalymnios@hotmail.com

First published in NKEE on Saturday 16 January 2021