The matter of governance in Greece is never easy. First, there are its citizens who invariably view the men and women who lead them with a cynicism that borders on downright disregard.
Then there is the apparatus of state, revealed under the fierce glare of the country’s recent forest fires as cumbersome, nepotistic and hopeless in a crisis. Though the state is a force to be reckoned with as the Greeks’ biggest employer, and the source and lever of political power, few could count on it when the deadly flames erupted.
And then there is corruption, a problem so pervasive that Greece ranks 54th in the watchdog Transparency International’s league table of corrupt nations, just ahead of Namibia and way behind practically every other EU nation. Meritocracy, in such circumstances, remains elusive. But now the Greeks are protesting. And, what’s more, they have voted for change (even if many fear it) in an election that, although denuded of the passion of previous campaigns, has both altered the political landscape and injected Athens’ normally staid parliament with a big fat dollop of unpredictability.
For the first time since the collapse of military rule 33 years ago, a far-right party will sit in the 300-seat house when the new assembly is sworn in on September 26. The group, known as Laos, and led by a telegenic former bodybuilder, will occupy 10 seats.
On the other side of the aisle, the unreconstructed Communist party, or KKE, will control 21 seats after pulling off the extraordinary feat of doubling its parliamentary representation. And next to it will sit the 14 MPs, who have similarly increased the parliamentary presence of the eclectic Leftist coalition, Syriza. The rise of these small parties has dealt a severe blow to the two-party system that has prevailed in Greece for more than three decades.
The people re-elected conservative prime minister Costas Karamanlis while giving the once-invincible Panhellenic Socialist Movement, Pasok, a thrashing. The upsurge in support for smaller parties is partly attributed to protest voters. But it also reflects Greek society’s deep division at the prospect of modernisation. All three are suspicious of globalisation and reject reform outright.
At the top of his list are Greece’s unwieldy public administration, Soviet-style education sector, privatisation of ailing state companies and a pension system primed to erupt in 15 years’ time, thanks to an ageing population. If he tackles these, Karamanlis may just begin to chip away at the age-old Greek tradition of patronage that through cronyism and corruption has kept the machinery of state inept.
Greece’s growing middle class and foreign-educated elite are clamouring for Karamanlis to get started. During his first term in office, the politician pursued reforms timidly, mindful of the political cost they might have on his over-arching aim: to be the first centre-right leader since 1977 to gain re-election.
Few deny that there are two Greeces: one that is western, modern; and another that is eastern, traditional. Now that the conservatives have been re-elected, many are hoping that Karamanlis will, with his legacy in mind, have the courage to bring the two together. If he succeeds, it will make the governance of Greece easier, and ensure him a place in the history books.
Guardian
