At 1:45 p.m. Washington time, Elias was unsurprised that the State Department was still in the dark but wondered why the CIA was still unable to confirm whether Makarios was dead or alive.
At 4:15 p.m., Elias told Pyrros “I’m more optimistic than I was three hours ago. I’m getting [favorable information] from a lot of quarters.” A half-hour later, Elias said: “I just finished talking with the British Embassy on a very high level. They have plenty of rumors that he has escaped, but nothing that puts him physically on a British base.”
By 9:10 p.m., Elias had been operating for nearly seventeen hours nonstop on the three telephone lines in his Fairfax apartment. Persa, who had moved to Washington in 1971 to do pediatric nursing work and be close to Elias, came by to make sure he ate something other than chocolate milkshakes and chocolate candy bars. News was still coming in. He made a final round of calls asserting: “I am satisfied for the first time that he is alive.”
Later, he was able to reconstruct what had happened. At 8:30 a.m., Cyprus time, Makarios, having returned from a weekend at his mountain retreat, heard gunfire outside the presidential palace. Armored cars and two tanks were in the courtyard. Heavy mortar shelling began. While his palace guard held off would-be assassins, Makarios removed his headgear, pectoral cross, and formal garb and escaped through a French window in his study.
He and an aide scrambled down to a road where they flagged down motorists to take them to the Kykkos monastery in Paphos, where the monks were surprised to see him alive. With UN help, he was taken by British helicopter to the UK base at Akrotiri, then flown to Malta. The next day, Makarios went to London where Elias talked to him by phone.
—
DESPITE THE WATERGATE distraction and other world crises, the United States, given its powerful relationships with all the key players, was in a good position to resolve the Cyprus crisis. “What it lacked was a statesman,” observed diplomatic historian James Miller, explaining how Henry Kissinger, through “incompetence, not malice,” had instead doubled down on the mistakes that America had repeatedly made in its Greek policy.19 During the entire emotional day of July 15, Kissinger never once expressed concern for the fate of Makarios or the future of Cyprus without him. When told the archbishop had survived, a State Department official responded: “How inconvenient.”20 While the US stayed mum, a Turkish diplomat remarked that the installation of Sampson was “an unbelievably stupid move by the Greeks, giving us the opportunity to solve our problems once and for all.”21 Hearing nothing from the US that might hold them back, the Turks readied their invasion plans.
Kissinger’s recent State Department administrative reorganization, splitting the Turkey Desk from the Greek and Cypriot one, made matters worse by depriving him of coordinated and knowledgeable staff leadership and support, should he have wanted it. He rejected Tasca’s advice to condemn the Makarios coup publicly and demand restoration of Greek democracy. He told the British he opposed an emergency meeting at the UN because it would likely “internationalize the situation in an undesirable manner.”22 He preferred to talk to a narrow group, including the Russians, and find a compromise “third guy,” neither Makarios nor Sampson, who would be acceptable to both Turkey and Greece.23 Ioannidis, meanwhile, still wanted to kill Makarios, fearful that the archbishop could expel non-Cypriot Greeks from the island and then come for the regime in Athens.
Still smarting from his earlier attempts to warn American officials who could have prevented the coup against Makarios, Elias wondered how to stop a Turkish invasion. He believed the best means was to go through Fulbright. The Arkansas senator, who had been courted heavily by the secretary of state, promptly agreed to meet Elias. Demetracopoulos prioritized his list of objectives, with fallback requests that could be accepted, including support for the British request that Greek troops be removed from the island, not just rotated.
At 12:15 p.m. on July 17, he met Senator Fulbright alone, in his private office. “Ask Kissinger how he would react to an invitation from Archbishop Makarios to have the Sixth Fleet pay a goodwill visit to the ports of Cyprus,” he recommended. American warships, he suggested, were already in the region and could serve as a buffer between Cyprus and the two hostile NATO members. Interposing Sixth Fleet ships between Turkey and Cyprus had been used successfully in the 1964 confrontation. In accepting the Makarios invitation, he added, US action could also effectively repudiate Ioannidis’s aggression and make unnecessary a Turkish military invasion. This could all be done, he said, without any cost to US security interests. Additionally, he wanted Kissinger to invite Makarios, as president of Cyprus, to meet with him immediately.
With Demetracopoulos sitting nearby, Fulbright called the secretary of state to express concern about the volatile situation in Cyprus. Kissinger rejected the Sixth Fleet invitation suggestion without discussion. But he said he’d be willing to receive Makarios in Washington, while avoiding specifying “in what capacity.” Kissinger’s State Department was still refusing to acknowledge that the archbishop remained president. Asked later whether Makarios would be received as a private citizen, archbishop, or president of Cyprus, Kissinger’s spokesman replied, “Archbishop.”24 That was unacceptable to Elias. Makarios would be coming to the United Nations to plead his country’s case, and it was important that he visit Washington as the recognized head of the Cypriot government.
Fulbright agreed to invite Makarios to the Senate Foreign Relations Committee as president. Demetracopoulos spoke to the House Foreign Affairs Committee, which agreed to do the same. Eight anti-junta House members sent a telegram to the secretary of state asking that he “take whatever steps are needed, including a request for an immediate Security Council meeting, to ensure that appropriate international action deny success to this illegal military threat to Cyprus and its government.” Elias also arranged a letter from Senators Pell, McGovern, McGee, and Humphrey calling for Kissinger to suspend diplomatic recognition of the Sampson regime, restore the Makarios government peacefully, expel those who participated in the coup, and engage the Foreign Relations Committee on diplomatic moves concerning Cyprus.
On Friday, July 19, Makarios, recognized as a head of state, made a forceful case at the United Nations Security Council, blaming the military regime of Greece for extending its dictatorship to an independent Cyprus. To Greek assertions that they had not been involved, he asked why the bodies of the dead and wounded were being evacuated to Athens. He requested that the Security Council restore without delay the constitutional order on the island.25
Considering it a waste of his own time, Kissinger sent Joseph Sisco from the State Department on a last-minute shuttle-diplomacy mission. Visiting Nixon in San Clemente, California, Kissinger had already decided a modest Turkish invasion would be the most acceptable option. He also probably saw it in his own interest to stay close to Nixon as the pressures from Watergate mounted. Kissinger assured the increasingly out-of-touch President that his smart diplomatic moves, tilting toward Turkey, had neutralized their liberal opponents.26 In reality, a once-divided and -reserved Greek-American community would soon join the liberal opposition in Congress, academics of all stripes, Greek clergy, and the news media in support of Cyprus, against the Greek junta and Turkish “invaders.”
Early on Saturday morning, July 20, Turkey attacked Cyprus’s north coast, ostensibly to fulfill its responsibilities as a treaty guarantor of peace. The Security Council called for cease-fire negotiations to restore peace and constitutional order. Instead, Ioannidis prepared a declaration of war and ordered a full mobilization of the Greek armed forces. Turkey’s military was much larger, and better-trained and -equipped. They were also closer to the island. Seven years of Greek military purges had taken a toll. The Greek mobilization was described by military observers as “a fiasco,” “a shambles,” and a “dramatic failure,” and the Greek chiefs of staff quickly decided that following through with a war was impossible.27
On Cyprus, the EOKA-B–led National Guard, weakened by infighting and defections, was not at full strength. Many guardsmen took their guns and went home. Those who were left, fewer than 5,000 Cypriots and Greek officers, took horrific casualties as they tried to hold off a Turkish force that grew to 30,000, not counting air support. Two submarines sent from Greece were called back. Thousands of Greek Cypriots became refugees in their homeland as Turkish forces pushed them southward.28
While Sisco was meeting with Tasca and Greek officials to try to stop the escalation, Ioannidis was secretly preparing submarine and aerial attacks on Turkish forces. He ordered 300 commandos to seize Nicosia airport. Some of the planes he sent were downed by friendly fire. On Sunday morning, Ioannidis’s aide-de-camp told the heads of the Hellenic armed services that the General wanted to attack Turkey on all fronts. They balked, telling him they were unprepared to go to war and quietly discussed among themselves the need to remove Ioannidis.29
Around 2 a.m. Athens time on Monday, July 22, negotiator Sisco, shuttling between Athens and Ankara and communicating with Kissinger in Washington, was able to gain Turkish prime minister Ecevit’s consent to a cease-fire. On the Greek side, however, no one was available to concur. Sisco woke Admiral Petros Arapakis, chief of naval operations, the only leader fluent in English, who said he didn’t have the authority to agree. The admiral spoke to Prime Minister Androutsopoulos, who according to Greek and American reports had suffered a nervous breakdown, was incoherent, and could do nothing but ask Arapakis to stall for time. Other Greek officials were likewise afraid of taking responsibility.
Sometime later, Arapakis called Sisco and asserted that he had his government’s approval. Sisco specifically asked: “Did you get the concurrence of General Ioannides?”
“Yes,” the audacious admiral lied, telling himself “the national interest comes first.” The cease-fire went into effect later that afternoon, averting more bloodshed.30
On Monday, Athens was rife with rumors, which quickly spread around the world. One speculated that Third Corps commander General Ioannis “John” Davos was leading his armored units from Macedonia to Athens to arrest Ioannidis. Another, inadvertently triggered by Kissinger, suggested that Ioannidis had been overthrown in a counter-coup.31
In truth, the Greek chiefs of staff, though resolute the day before against going to war, had dithered through the day, unclear as to how to remove Ioannidis. If Ioannidis were politically wounded but retained control of the ESA security police and loyal units in the army, might he reassert his powers? Although details of what exactly happened over Tuesday, July 23, are a Rashomon tale, there was a common thread. The chiefs reaffirmed that Ioannidis must be removed and conveyed that message to General Gizikis, made president by Ioannidis after the Papadopoulos ouster. They agreed that authentic civilian rule must be restored. The chiefs and Gizikis either summoned Ioannidis, or he walked in uninvited. He disagreed with their characterization of the disastrous state of affairs but accepted their decision to dismiss him since it was unanimous. Ioannidis went free, technically still controlling ESA for a few weeks, but promising that his officers would be obedient to the government.32
The Chiefs then urgently invited some former prime ministers, senior ministers, and economic leaders, including Kanellopoulos, Mavros, Markezinis, Averof, Zolotas, and Pesmazoglou to a conference. For more than an hour the assembled group debated whether the composition of a civilian government should be “all-embracing,” “political,” “service,” or “transitional.” They next considered who should be prime minister—at first suggesting a coalition of the two major parties headed by Kanellopoulos, the prime minister from 1967, with Center Union’s George Mavros as his deputy prime minister. Then, anxious about a resurgent Ioannidis undermining a return to civilian rule, the group recommended Karamanlis as the strongest leader. Kanellopoulos graciously bowed out, and Mavros was reaffirmed as deputy prime minister in a government of national unity.33
Reached in Paris, Karamanlis hesitated. The Athens group told him he had to decide immediately. He agreed, but then could not get a direct flight to Athens until French president Giscard d’Estaing provided his plane. Even after Karamanlis landed, there were fears that forces loyal to Ioannidis might interfere with the transition. Anxieties abated somewhat when an announcement was made to a cheering crowd that Karamanlis was on his way and would arrive at 2 a.m. on Wednesday, July 24, as arrival on the superstitiously unlucky day of Tuesday had to be avoided.
The euphoria of Karamanlis’s arrival was comparable to the jubilation that greeted the end of World War II. Horns blared, church bells pealed, and celebrations continued throughout the night.34 The revelers also demonstrated a somber side: thousands marching with candles and singing Easter hymns paused for a moment of silence in memory of the fallen dissidents as they passed the Polytechnic.
So insecure was Karamanlis in his new role that for several weeks he slept on a yacht outside Glyfada, guarded by a naval vessel, instead of using accommodations at the Grande Bretagne Hotel. Afraid to go after the ringleaders of the coup, he prepared a general amnesty. After seven years, three months, and two days, the dictatorship had imploded.
The dictatorship had failed to achieve its primary objectives. More Greeks likely identified as Communists in 1974 than had in 1967. Greece had sullied its reputation abroad, sown distrust between the Greek people and their allies, and demoralized its armed forces.
It brought devastation upon Cyprus and at home left behind an economy in shambles and the highest rate of inflation in Europe.35
26.After the Junta
WITH THE APPARENT END OF military hostilities on Cyprus, Washington refocused on Nixon’s final days. Ankara took advantage of the distraction to restock supplies and prepare to strike again. Peace talks toward a political solution proceeded inconclusively in Geneva. Turkey moved to dismantle the 1959 Zurich-London Agreement that had created a Republic of Cyprus, arguing that Makarios’s alleged violations had destroyed it.
On July 29, for the second Monday in a row, Makarios met with Kissinger. Elias had been upset that the archbishop had missed opportunities to make his case before American audiences to help build pressure on the secretary of state. He’d set up a Today Show morning television interview and arranged to have the archbishop be the featured newsmaker on Meet the Press, only to have the Cypriot leader’s people in New York cancel.
Makarios sought “clear and decisive” evidence that American “silent diplomacy” in Geneva was more than just words. He wanted Turkey to start pulling its invading troops off the island. Kissinger was evasive in the meeting and afterward dodged press questions about American willingness to pressure the Turks. Makarios warned that the situation on Cyprus was deteriorating and an American “wait and see” attitude would only make matters worse.
According to State Department oral histories, Kissinger despised Makarios. To the secretary of state, Makarios was a “Castro of the Mediterranean” with Nasserite tendencies and likely to tilt toward Moscow. Disdainfully approaching his meetings with Makarios, he ignored staff who knew the archbishop well and understood his history of complex relations with the United States. An old Cyprus hand, William Crawford, remembered:
I went up to talk to the Secretary before Makarios’ arrival, and Dr. Kissinger said, “Bill, what do I call him?” I said, “Your Beatitude.” So we went downstairs to the front entrance. Dripping with cynicism and dislike, Dr. Kissinger greeted the archbishop when the limousine pulled up at the door. “Your Beatitude, I’m so glad to welcome you to Washington, your Beatitude.”1
A USELESS MEETING and a dozen or more saccharine “Your Beatitudes” later, Crawford—crushed in a small elevator with the archbishop, Secretary Kissinger, and their bodyguards—heard the secretary of state tell the archbishop, “Your Beatitude, when I’m with you, I really quite feel that I like you.” The archbishop looked at him benignly and said, “Dr. Kissinger, it lasts for just about five minutes after we’ve parted, doesn’t it?”2
—
WITH THE FALL of the junta and early reports of a cease-fire accord on Cyprus, opposition exiles talked about going home. The new government published a list of those who officially had their Greek citizenship restored. This time the names of Amalia Fleming and Elias Demetracopoulos were included. Television captured the emotional returns of Melina Mercouri and Mikis Theodorakis. Leading anti-junta members of Congress wryly described warm overtures made to them by Greek-American members of Congress who’d either been silent during the past seven years or had actively opposed their pro-democracy efforts.
An article in the Metro section of the Washington Post at the end of July was headlined: “Two Greeks Consider the Future,” accompanied by photographs of Elias along with Stavros Dimas, a young World Bank attorney who was planning to return and join the army. Elias, more prominently featured than Dimas, who later became a distinguished Greek and EU politician, was described as “more circumspect about returning home.”3
Asked if he would accept the role of Greek ambassador to Washington if offered, Elias listed reasons why he’d say no. The Karamanlis unity government offered Demetracopoulos the ambassadorship anyway, largely as a gesture to acknowledge Elias’s years of heroic service. As expected, he declined. All parties were aware that “lone wolf” Demetracopoulos lacked the temperament to handle the tedium of administrative duties and would not be able to function as an unquestioning public servant. The title might have been nice, but as Elias told others, it came with “little power.”4 Declining the offer meant Elias could still enjoy the busy social life of a diplomat, without the bureaucratic responsibilities.
With the fall of the junta, some financial firms that had rejected his calls because they did not want to upset their relationship with the Nixon Administration telephoned to discuss consulting work. The World Bank and the Ford Foundation asked him to teach their employees about shoestring lobbying. Immodestly, he reminded friends that he’d been a star journalist with “influence” since the age of twenty and had, despite obstacles, successfully “established a new career in the banking community,” where his horizons now could be unlimited. Half-jokingly, he suggested returning to Greece and starting a powerful news publication or building a media empire with the backing of moneyed friends.5
