Centre-left politics has been dealt a crushing blow in Greece. What can we learn from it?
Greece’s election results were a big surprise for the winners, the losers and the pollsters. In a country where huge numbers of people are struggling every day, with almost a third of the population estimated to be at risk of poverty, the prime minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis’s rightwing New Democracy party managed to secure 40% of the vote – a remarkable victory that no polling agency predicted.
The runner-up was the former prime minister Alexis Tsipras of the centre-left Syriza party, best known for its turbulent confrontation with the EU’s economic centres of power in 2015. He picked up only 20% of the vote, much lower than the pollsters had predicted and lower than most Greeks – friends and enemies of Syriza alike – thought possible. The lack of an outright majority for New Democracy makes the most plausible scenario a second election in June or early July – this round is designed to give bonus seats to the winner, increasing its chances of securing a majority.
New Democracy’s victory was not unexpected, but the eye-watering share of the vote the party received is a different matter. The conservative government often points to its record of growth and investment, backed by European Commission forecasts, but the proceeds of this have not been felt evenly: a growing number of Greece’s population over the same period have dealt with low wages, low pensions, high rents and a painful cost of living crisis. The disparity between what is on paper and the bleak reality on the ground is striking. So why are the conservatives still out in front, with an outright majority within their grasp? It seems the promises of stability, growth and impenetrable borders have paid off.
But there is also the question of the sorry state of the opposition. For Syriza, the high of the 2015 electoral triumph at the peak of the eurozone’s financial crisis was quickly tempered by the imposition of loans from Greece’s creditors that demanded huge sacrifices by the Greek people in order to control the country’s spiralling debt. The return of New Democracy to power in 2019 made clear the extent of disillusionment and hopelessness that Syriza’s base felt after voting against a bailout in a referendum – and then watching their government accept one.
Since then the party leadership’s strategy has been to return to the centre ground to attract more moderate voters – and it has failed spectacularly. On top of that, the absence of any sign of contrition or self-reflection for the years Syriza was in government further alienated its electoral base.
Whatever form the next government takes, the structural problems that Greece faces remain profound. Corruption is rife. A series of scandals – such as a phone-tapping scandal that has been dubbed the Greek Watergate – have stained the Mitsotakis premiership and speak loudly to the failure of the country’s institutions. New
Democracy – and the social democratic Pasok party, with which it alternated in government from 1974 to 2015 – cannot escape responsibility for this long-term deterioration.
Take the outrage over the Tempe railway tragedy in February, when the collision of two trains left 57 dead. The disaster led to protests and was raised by opposition parties during the election as a sign of the country’s administrative dysfunction: many believe it could have been avoided had the rail network not been so neglected.
Greece does not fare much better on the international front. Only last week, footage was revealed that appeared to show 12 asylum seekers who had arrived at Lesbos being forcibly transferred to a Greek coastguard vessel and then abandoned in an inflatable boat in the middle of the sea. The rightwing government has dismissed allegations of being involved in the pushback of asylum seekers, but the video evidence and testimonies leave little doubt as to Greece’s infringements of European rules and international law. Nonetheless, it is partly this draconian treatment of migrants that has helped New Democracy shore up electoral support.
Another story of the night is the slow recovery of Pasok. Once a force for change in the post-junta period, it picked up a respectable 11%, confirming an upwards trajectory after its near-fatal low of less than 5% in 2015. One factor behind this is that its leader, Nikos Androulakis, is an MEP and, as such, is not directly involved in Greek parliamentary shenanigans. In fact, Androulakis is even a victim of the Greek state itself – last year it was revealed that his phone had been tapped by Greece’s intelligence services. (Mitsotakis denied knowing about this and said it was wrong.)
Maybe these results will be a wakeup call for Greece’s progressive parties as to the importance of collaborating with each other. To get anywhere close to winning office, however, they will have to learn to offer something more than just being a way of avoiding the worst-case scenario.
Marina Prentoulis is associate professor in politics and media at the University of East Anglia, and a former member of Syriza London
fornia. I told the truth: “Because of the climate apocalypse.” After politely ascertaining that wildfires hadn’t actually burned our house down, people couldn’t change the topic fast enough. But I didn’t take the hint. Since nearly everything we do has a carbon cost, every conversation led to the climate crisis. When my parents posted pictures of themselves basking in the Spanish heatwave on the family WhatsApp chat, I responded: “The world’s getting hotter fast. Who wants to join me at the next climate protest?” Awkward silence ensued. In his book Don’t Even Think About It, about why we ignore climate breakdown, George Marshall says that when he brings it up “the words collapse, sink and die in mid-air, and the conversation suddenly changes course. It is like an invisible force field.” Yep.
I joined my local Extinction Rebellion group and they told me the best way to start conversations about climate was not to talk, but to listen. After that, instead of telling people how worried I was, I asked if they were worried. “Yes, but I recycle,” said a neighbour at a picnic. “Can I have your tart recipe?” That night, while doom-scrolling, I saw a picture of the Red Rebels and felt an instant connection: here were people who didn’t downplay their climate grief for the sake of others. They flaunted it. At last, here was an outlet for my climate emotions.
At my first outing as a Red, I expect to feel anxious and exposed, but it’s unexpectedly restorative. I can’t answer texts during our performances, and my kids can’t ask me for snacks. Passersby follow us and even want to strike up conversations. But I just raise my hands as if holding an invisible chalice, my goto pose. I’m blissfully silent. It’s relaxing to be the one exerting the invisible force field.
A week later, at a barbecue, something amazing happens: I don’t feel the urge to tell everyone about plant-based burgers, but just enjoy myself instead. And when I go to see my sister’s new kitchen extension I don’t ask about its carbon footprint, but admire her stylish skylights. I no longer feel the need to rant about the climate in daily interaction. I’m less angry with other people because I’m less angry with myself. I feel as if I’m doing something useful.
But in April, I have a moment of doubt. I join more than 70 Reds as part of Extinction Rebellion’s protest weekend in London, and afterwards, looking at all the photos, I ask myself: is this just about looking amazing? But then I remember the wonder on onlookers’ faces. Some cry. Some call us “spawn of Satan” or shout about “climate conspiracy”, but we always inspire big emotions.
I hope the emotion that people tap into will drive them to act. Other forms of activism are valuable, but as a Red, I can see the effect I’m having on people’s faces. Talking to people about the climate crisis made me feel hopeless. Striking a mute pose of despair? Remarkably uplifting.
Helena Echlin is a journalist and the author of Clever Little Thing
Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here.