Chaos Behind the Green Line

Aysel K. Basci

An excerpt from the forthcoming memoir Once A Cypriot

Just 10 years after fleeing for our lives from possible slaughter on the island of Cyprus, our family thought it was all over... that we were safe in our newfound homes and that we were able to face the future with confidence and strength and the hope that we would be free from the violence which had wracked the country for the previous 10 years. We were wrong. 

It was 1973, and I had just graduated from high school in Nicosia (the capital of Cyprus which had been divided between the Greeks and Turks due to a serious political conflict that had erupted in 1963 – just three years after the Republic of Cyprus was established ending the British colonization of the island). Two months after my graduation, I began living with the Martins, a diplomatic American family stationed in Cyprus, who had offered to privately sponsor my higher education in the United States. I gladly accepted this offer because, back then, no international scholarships were available to Turkish Cypriot students, and there were no universities in Cyprus. Accordingly, anyone who sought higher education had to go abroad. Mr. Martin’s assignment at the US Embassy in Cyprus was due to end in the summer of 1974. So, I took a year off and lived with the Martins from August 1973 to July 1974. During this time, I spent my weekdays with them on the Greek side of Nicosia, and weekends with my grandparents on the Turkish side. 

Going back and forth across the border separating the Greeks and Turks – known as the Green Line – became routine. Our usual crossing point was the Ledra Palace, close to where my grandparents lived. My priority that year was to improve my limited English language skills and prepare for life in the United States. In mid-July 1974, the Martins and I were getting ready to leave for the United States the following month. They were scheduled to be stationed in Washington, DC, for four years, before being rotated to another overseas assignment. I would live with them and study at one of the universities in the Washington area.

On the morning of July 15, a Monday, I was at the Martins’ home on the Greek side of Nicosia. As an exception, I had stayed with them that weekend because they had invited me to join them at their rented beach house near Kyrenia. I happily accepted the invitation and went along because it was a rare opportunity to see the Mediterranean. During the previous nine years, like most other Turkish Cypriots, I had lived enclaved, and very rarely had left Nicosia. Although the Mediterranean was only a 30-minute drive away from where we lived, I had only seen it twice: first, in 1962 as a seven-year-old, when I visited my aunt who lived in the seaside town of Xeros, and again in 1973 as a 17-year-old, when my high school took us on a rare trip to the seaside town of Limnitis. By this time, the political turmoil that had been raging in Cyprus since 1963 had abated, and it was safe enough to drive outside our enclave in Nicosia. I still remember the joy my classmates and I felt that day when our bus reached the shore and the beautiful blue Mediterranean unfolded before our eyes. It was a heartening experience. 

Getting back to the Martins’ beach invitation, I had two problems. First, I did not own a bathing suit—which was natural, given that I could not get to the beach and there were no swimming pools on the Turkish side of Nicosia. Second, I did not know how to swim—a widespread problem among my generation of Turkish Cypriots who grew up enclaved and living very restricted lives. I decided not to let these problems stand in my way because this was too good an opportunity to miss. As soon as I accepted the invitation, I went shopping and bought my first-ever bathing suit. There was not much I could do about my second problem—not being able to swim. So, I was ready. 

To my surprise, the Martins’ beach house turned out to be an important and well-known Islamic shrine, the tomb of a historic figure in Islam (Hazreti Ömer Türbesi). The site had fallen into Greek hands after the 1963 conflict, and like all other previously Turkish-owned properties, it was controlled by the Greek leadership, which chose to rent it as a beach house to tourists and foreign nationals. The Martins were renting the site for the whole summer. Staying in such a place for the weekend felt a little strange, but it did have a magnificent view of the Mediterranean. I tried not to dwell on who might have been buried there a long time ago, and decided to enjoy the view instead.

When Mrs. Martin learned that I could not swim, she offered to teach me. We tried without much success because the area surrounding the site was covered with large, slippery rocks, and the water was deep – it was not the right place to learn how to swim! At one point, I got really scared; I thought I was drowning. After trying for half an hour or so, we gave up.

That weekend, the Martins had a guest from the United States who was spending the weekend with us at the beach house. She was an artist, a painter. While the Martins swam and enjoyed the sun, she painted watercolors of the beautiful surroundings there. I do not recall the elderly woman’s name, but I remember she was very talented. I sat next to her on a chair and watched how she painted with a great deal of skill. It was an interesting and enjoyable experience, and I was grateful she did not mind me observing her carefully. By the end of the weekend, she had completed many spectacular paintings with beautiful views. I was quite impressed! Overall, it was a peaceful and enjoyable weekend. After spending Saturday and Sunday there, we returned to Nicosia on Sunday evening.

The next day, July 15, started just like any other morning at the Martins home. Irini, the maid, was busy cleaning the house. Bumble the collie, was busy chasing the twin Siamese cats, Troilus and Cressida, and I was preparing to sew myself a new skirt. It was so nice that the Martins had a sewing machine I could use — such a luxury. However, the day proved to be anything but ordinary. Around 9:30 am, we began hearing loud noises at the Martins’ home. It sounded as if bombs were exploding not far from us. We were also startled to hear the sound of heavy and continuous machine gun fire. We were stunned. At first, we did not know what was happening. I was especially scared because I could still remember the horrors we had experienced during the 1963-64 hostilities and beyond. This was not my first experience with the sounds of bullets and bombs. Mrs. Martin immediately contacted the U.S. Embassy by phone. She was told a military coup d’état was in progress and that we should stay and wait it out. It was too early to make any decisions or moves.

What we didn’t know then was that a large contingent of heavily armed Greek soldiers and officers had secretly arrived in Cyprus from Greece and that they had infiltrated deep into the National Guard. They had been sent by the Greek junta in Athens to overthrow President Makarios of the Cyprus Republic and take control of the island. Their ultimate objective was Enosis – the political union of Cyprus and Greece.

Prior to this egregious development, there were signs of trouble in Cyprus. President Makarios, who was once a staunch defender of the Enosis ideal, was seen by the Greek junta as weak. They feared Makarios was no longer interested in Enosis and that he was too soft on Turkish Cypriots. In their view, the Turkish Cypriots should have been dealt with long ago and the island united to Greece. The Greek junta regime no longer believed Makarios was the right man to achieve Enosis. They chose Nikos Sampson, a former Eoka leader turned politician, whose reputation for killing innocent Turkish civilians in 1963 had earned him the nickname “The Butcher of Omorphita.” Sampson was chosen to replace Makarios because of his perceived loyalty to the Enosis ideology. In short, by July 1974, the relationship between Makarios, in Cyprus, and the Greek junta, in Greece, had deteriorated significantly.

The international community was well aware of the growing tension between Greece and Cyprus, and some political observers had even predicted what might happen. Henry Kissinger, the US Secretary of State at the time, subsequently wrote in his memoirs, Years of Upheaval:

"I had always taken it for granted that the next intercommunal crisis in Cyprus would provoke Turkish intervention. That is, it would at least risk the prospect of a war within NATO between Greece and Turkey, and would certainly involve the partition of the island. That this was common knowledge may not be doubted by any person even lightly acquainted with Cypriot affairs.” (1)

Despite being aware of its grave consequences, the international community took no serious preventive action to stop the Greek junta from proceeding with its plan to assassinate Makarios and seize power in Cyprus. Thomas D. Boyatt was responsible for Cyprus affairs in the US State Department at the time. A few days before the coup, Boyatt had traveled to Athens with Joe Sisco, who was sent by Kissinger to do emergency shuttle diplomacy and smooth things over. Years later, on September 30, 1992, in a presentation Boyatt made to the Association for Diplomatic Studies and Training, he described their meeting with the head of the Greek junta, General Dimitrios Ioannidis:

“We eventually got to see General Ioannidis, and Joe Sisco went in there and said, ‘If you don't do something we're going to have a war, and you're going to lose that war. Now give me some elements of compromise that I can take to Ankara that we can work with.’ Whereupon, General Ioannidis launched into an emotional, weird, surreal, description of Byzantine history, and the struggle against the Ottoman Turks and Constantinople, not Istanbul. We were clearly in real trouble because this guy had disconnected from the world, and he had all the power. And he didn't give us anything.” (2)

It may be useful to point out that Istanbul had been conquered by Ottomans some 521 years earlier than this meeting, and by no stretch of the imagination could it be used as a legitimate excuse for annihilating the Turkish Cypriots in revenge in 1974. That chapter should have been closed a long time ago, but obviously it was not. This unbelievable and hair-raising rationale behind the impending coup in Cyprus could not have been expressed more clearly by General Ioannidis. There it was – from “the horse’s mouth.” Thus, Kissinger’s efforts to stop the coup failed.

The coup began on the morning of July 15. Makarios had spent the weekend away from his presidential palace and was returning there that Monday morning. According to authoritative sources, the British Government had spies among the Greek military and found out about the impending coup d’état just before it happened. They then informed Makarios. So, by the time Makarios arrived at the presidential palace that Monday morning, he knew a coup was about to be launched and that there would be an attempt to assassinate him. Acting very normal, he went into the palace and escaped on foot through a secret passage. He exited the palace with his assistant, took a taxi, and went to Paphos, his stronghold, where, with the help of the British, he was flown by helicopter to safety in Acrotiri (a British military base in Cyprus) first, and then to London.

Meanwhile, the armed attack on the presidential palace began in full force shortly after Makarios’ escape from the palace. There was heavy fighting between the palace guards and members of the coup. Foreign journalists and diplomats observed and reported that the Greek Brigade, which was stationed in Cyprus as part of the 1960 Treaty of Alliance, participated in the coup against Makarios alongside the National Guard. This was a huge violation of the treaty, and thus the constitution.

According to eyewitnesses, the coup began sometime between 8 am and 9 am. By noon, after heavy fighting, the presidential palace fell. By this time, armed fighting had spread to other government buildings. Almost all branches of the government were under assault. There were heavy gunfights in the streets, and by mid-afternoon, all government buildings, including the presidential palace, had fallen to supporters of the coup.

Around 4 pm, Mr. Martin, who’d obviously had quite a hectic day at the US Embassy, came home. He told us briefly what was going on and was concerned about my being on the Greek side of Nicosia. He did not know how the situation would shape up. Just about at that point, Sampson was being installed as the new president of Cyprus. The prospects were not looking good and, as a Turkish Cypriot, it was probably not wise for me to remain on the Greek side of Nicosia much longer. As soon as the weak Greek Cypriot opposition to the coup was pacified, the Greek junta clearly intended to move on to the primary goal of the coup: Enosis.

Mr. Martin proposed to take me to the Turkish side before the situation deteriorated further. I agreed, said goodbye to Mrs. Martin and got in an embassy car that had brought Mr. Martin home. Under the circumstances, Mr. Martin did not think it was safe to drive around in his private car, so he had come home in an official embassy car with a driver. The car was entirely covered with a huge American flag, which was intended to provide extra security.

The images we saw on the streets as we drove from the Martin home on Methonis Street, off of Makarios III Boulevard, to Ledra Street, where we would cross the border to the Turkish side, were scary. Hundreds of people were killed that day. Greeks were killing other Greeks all in the name of Enosis. In his book, The Genocide Files, British journalist and author Harry Scott Gibbons describes the carnage of that day and the days that followed:

“In February 1976, the Greek and Greek Cypriot newspapers reported that the superintendent of the Greek Orthodox cemetery in Nicosia, Father Papatsestos, confessed to being forced to bury 127 bodies in mass graves during the first few days of the coup. 

The Washington Post quoted a Greek university student who had seen near Limassol, the bodies of Makarios supporters dumped in mass graves ‘four at a time.’” (3)       

As we approached Ledra Street, there was constant armed fighting. We could hear numerous explosions and artillery fire not far from where we were. It was very scary indeed. Continuous announcements were made over the radio and loudspeakers. I did not understand the Greek language, but our driver translated what was being said. The announcements informed the public that the National Guard had liberated Cyprus from Makarios, and that Makarios was dead (which was false). Sampson was now commanding all the civilian and military outfits; there was no need for panic, and everything was under control. The announcements also asked for the full cooperation of civilians and outlined the terms of the martial law and curfew, which took effect immediately.

Because Mr. Martin had driven me back and forth to my grandparents’ home every week for almost a year, he knew the road well. He gave directions to the driver, a Greek Cypriot working at the U.S. Embassy. Mr. Martin and I sat in the back of the car in total silence. I do not recall ever being as scared as I was during that ride. Before we reached Ledra Street, we were stopped three times. Each time Mr. Martin got out of the car, and with the help of the driver, explained that he was from the U.S. Embassy and his official duty was to survey the city and report the situation back to the U.S. ambassador. The strategy worked; we were allowed to continue.

After what felt like a very long ride, but was only 30 minutes, we made it to Ledra Street. This was the border crossing between the Greek and Turkish sides of the city. Our driver could not cross the border; he got out of the car and Mr. Martin moved into the driver’s seat. He was going to drive me to my grandparents’ home in Köşklüçiftlik and, on his return, reunite with the driver at the same location. At the border, we each showed our identification to the Turkish guards, who were used to seeing us cross that border every week. There was no difficulty.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at my grandparents’ home. They were sitting on the patio in front of their home. When they first saw a strange car covered with a huge American flag stopping in front of their house, they were confused. However, after I got out, they understood and were happy to see me. Mr. Martin needed to get back to the border, meet with the driver, and return to the U.S. Embassy, so he left as soon as he dropped me off.

I did not know it then, but it would be a long time before I saw the Martins again. Just a few days later, all non-critical US Embassy personnel and their families were evacuated to Akrotiri (the British military base in Cyprus). After spending a few days there, they were evacuated to Beirut, Lebanon, and did not return to Cyprus for six months.

I also learned later that the U.S. Ambassador, Rodger Paul Davies, who had been in Cyprus for just a short while, was killed a few weeks later by Greek Cypriots after Turkey intervened in Cyprus. After the coup, Turkey threatened military intervention, which was expected. Turkey was, and remains, a guarantor of the Republic of Cyprus. After the attempt to abolish the republic and unite the island with Greece, Turkey exercised its responsibility as a guarantor nation. However, the pro-Enosis wing of the Greek Cypriots did not expect Turkey to intervene. Even if there were an attempt to intervene, the pro-Enosis group had hoped the United Kingdom and the United States would stop it (as they had done many times previously, from 1963 to 1974). When the events in Cyprus did not progress as expected, the pro-Enosis group became angry. On August 19, a mob of angry Greek Cypriots stormed the U.S. Embassy, blaming the U.S. for Turkey’s intervention in Cyprus. Very conveniently, they forgot all about the coup that started the chain of events in Cyprus. U.S. Ambassador Davies was shot by a Greek sniper and died instantly.

Returning to the events of July 15, after I was safely at my grandparents’ home, we began worrying about my parents and siblings in Potamia, which was under Greek control. My family is originally from Potamia, a small village 13 miles south of Nicosia. We had become refugees during the 1963-64 political conflict in Cyprus and lived the next seven years in the Turkish quarter of Nicosia. Our living conditions in Nicosia were very harsh, and with five children with ever-growing needs, in 1970, my father decided to go back to Potamia where he could farm his lands and make a better living. This is how we had become a split family, half living in Potamia and the other half (my brother Ismail, my sister Duyal, and me) remaining in Nicosia where we lived with our grandparents so we could continue our secondary education. 

During those scary days right after the coup, Grandfather Hakkı constantly listened to the news on the radio. The more he listened, the less he liked the developments. My father in Potamia did not like what he was hearing on the news either. Four days after the coup, on July 19, my father hired a taxi and sent my mother and two sisters to Northern Nicosia to be with us, where he thought they would be safer. My father and my 15-year-old brother, Kâzım, remained in Potamia so as not to alert the Greeks.

Finding a taxi that would drive my mother and sisters from Potamia to Nicosia was not easy. Taxi drivers were not willing to make the trip during those dangerous days. In addition, and more importantly, there was a curfew. Nobody was supposed to be on the streets. Despite these difficulties, my father paid extra money to a Greek taxi driver, who agreed to drive my mother and two sisters to Nicosia. During the trip, it was necessary for my mother to act as if she was sick and needed medical attention. If they were stopped, this was going to be their excuse for being on the road. It was a dangerous trip and could have gone very wrong, but at the same time, it was necessary. In fact, if my father had waited one more day, my mother and sisters would have spent the next six months in captivity, just like my father and brother did. It was almost a miracle they got out of Potamia that night and did not wait until the next day. 

Looking back on it, I cannot imagine the anguish and pain my father must have felt when that taxi left with his wife and two daughters in it. There were no cell phones, no internet or email at that time, and he would not know their fate—whether they reached safety in the north or were picked up on the way, killed and buried in some mass grave, for months. As if this wasn’t enough, my father must have worried about me too, not knowing whether his 18-year old daughter on the Greek side of Nicosia, was dead or alive. 

After reaching Nicosia, my mother and two sisters got out of the Greek taxi and walked over to the Turkish side near Omorphita. Then, after some difficulty, they found a Turkish taxi driver who was willing to drive them to Köşklüçiftlik. They arrived at my grandfather’s home around 7 pm. My grandparents and I were sitting on the patio in front of the house, wondering how the rest of the family were doing in Potamia, when we saw a taxi arrive at our door and my mother and sisters stepped out. We were extremely happy to see them, and hugged and kissed each other. That night, we went to bed feeling relatively safe and happy to be together, not knowing what the morning would bring.

Having escaped unharmed from the coup, Makarios first went to London and approached the British government to help rescue the Cyprus Republic from Greece’s military junta. The British did not act, so Makarios went to the United Nations in New York, where he described the coup d’état as "an invasion that constituted foreign intervention.” He asked the international community to help save the Republic of Cyprus. His plea, once again, fell on deaf ears. Meanwhile, Turkey consulted with Britain (another guarantor) and proposed, as stipulated in the republic’s constitution, that the two nations launch a combined military operation in Cyprus. Britain, however, was not interested, and it soon became clear Turkey would have to go it alone. 

The next morning, July 20, 1974, Turkey intervened militarily in Cyprus, rescuing the hundreds of thousands of Turkish Cypriots whose lives and continued existence in Cyprus were under serious threat by the Greek junta and their long-standing Enosis ideology. Eight days after the July 15 coup, Nikos Sampson was removed from the presidency of Cyprus and Glafkos Clerides, as the Speaker of the House of the Representatives, constitutionally took over until Makarios’s return to Cyprus in December 1974. Three days after the July 20 Turkish intervention in Cyprus, the Greek junta regime in Athens fell, and democracy returned to Greece. Thereafter, Greece pulled its military out of NATO in protest against the US and UK, who they thought should have stopped Turkey’s intervention. But a few years later, Greece was back in NATO. Cyprus was divided, with Greeks living in the south (occupying roughly 65 percent of the island) and Turks living in the north (occupying roughly 35 percent of the island). 

As of 2020, the political situation in Cyprus remains unresolved and the UN peacekeeping force, first stationed there in 1964, is now the longest-serving such force anywhere in the world. Over the past 46 years, since the island was divided, the United Nations have sponsored numerous negotiations to reunite the island, but all these initiatives failed to produce a solution. The most promising plan – the Annan Plan, proposed by the UN’s Kofi Annan in 2004, was overwhelmingly rejected by Greek Cypriots in a referendum, although it was accepted by a wide margin by the Turkish Cypriots. Ultimately, because of this division, the plan got nowhere. 

At the heart of the problem is the fact that Turkish Cypriots insist on being equal partners in the Republic of Cyprus (as stipulated by the constitution), while the Greek Cypriots insist on modifying that constitution by removing the “equal status” of Turkish Cypriots and treating them as “a simple minority.” In conclusion, it is safe to say that unless one of the sides changes its long-held position, the Cyprus problem is unlikely to be resolved any time soon.

Citations:

1. Kissinger, Henry. Years of Upheaval, Simon & Schuster, 2011.

2. Boyatt, Thomas D. Oral Presentation at the Foreign Service Institute (FSI), September 30, 1992.

3. Gibbons, H. Scott. The Genocide Files, Charles Bravos Publishers, 1997.

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Aysel K. Basci is a nonfiction writer and literary translator. She was born and raised in Cyprus and moved to the United States in 1975. She holds a BS and an MS. Before retiring from The World Bank Group where she worked for many years, Aysel traveled and worked extensively in the poorest regions of the world including Sub-Saharan Africa, Central America and South Asia.She began writing after she retired. Aysel's writing recently appeared in the Michigan Quarterly Review, Bosphorus Review of Books, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Entropy, and elsewhere. This essay is excerpted from her forthcoming memoir, Once A Cypriot, tentatively scheduled for publication in late 2021. More of Aysel's work can be found at: https://www.facebook.com/ayselkbasci.

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