Crossing the Green Line 

Irish Times, 16 August 2003

Anyone with knowledge of Northern Ireland will find unavoidable echoes and parallels in the Cyprus situation. In the two places, you meet lovely people on both sides whose history and circumstances have trapped them in bitter conflict. In both places, a brave effort has been made in recent years to work out a solution, but the road to peace is long and dusty and there are many obstacles in the way. George Mitchell's dictum about Northern Ireland could equally be applied to Cyprus: the people are very nice, they just aren't nice to each other.

For years, Cyprus has been known as "the quiet crisis". The population of almost 800,000 is divided between Greek and Turkish Cypriots in a ratio of four-to-one. A power-sharing government drawn from the two communities took over when British rule ended in 1960. But tension grew between the two sides, fuelled by a minority among Greek Cypriots who wanted enosis (Greek for "union") with the motherland and Turkish Cypriots who favoured taksim (Turkish for "partition").

A military junta seized power in Athens in 1967. The Greek colonels were repressive and unpopular and, in an attempt to restore their standing with the public, they colluded with Greek Cypriot extremists to overthrow the island's power-sharing government in July 1974. It was an act of sheer folly, on a par with the Argentine junta's takeover of the Falklands/Malvinas nearly a decade later. Turkey reacted rather like Margaret Thatcher and sent its troops to protect the Turkish Cypriot community. Some 250,000 people fled their homes (200,000 Greeks, the rest Turkish) and there were about 3,000 dead or missing. When the shooting stopped, Turkish Cypriots and the Turkish army controlled 37 per cent of the island, and Greek Cypriots the rest.

As in Ireland, the crude expedient of partition took hold and soon acquired an air of permanence. UN peacekeepers, including Irish troops and gardai, keep the two Cypriot sides apart. The Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus was declared in 1983 but nobody recognised it except Ankara and, to this day, the Greek Cypriot administration is acknowledged across the globe as the true government.

But nothing stands still in today's world. Cyprus (minus the Turks) has voted to join the EU and will become a full member during the Irish presidency next year. Turkey is also desperately keen to join the EU, but is held back by various factors, not least among them the presence of 30,000 Turkish troops on the Mediterranean island, sustaining the breakaway Turkish Cypriot state. Turkey's political elite will be painfully conscious that, once Cyprus has joined, it can veto Turkish membership, just as de Gaulle kept Britain out for several years.

A sustained effort was made, under the leadership of the UN Secretary-General, Kofi Annan, to ensure that the whole of Cyprus entered the EU and not just the Greek-dominated part of the island. Comprehensive proposals for reintegration were drawn up, allowing the two constituent parts of the island to retain considerable autonomy under a weak central administration. But although the Greek Cypriots had some reservations about the "Annan Plan", the prime responsibility for rejecting it was laid at the door of the Turkish Cypriot president, Rauf Denktash.

The Annan Plan is still on the table but nobody expects agreement any time soon. Meanwhile, Denktash took the political initiative at the end of April by opening the border between the two sides. As a result, Greek Cypriots can now make visits as long as three days to their former homes and villages and Turkish Cypriots can go south to get Republic of Cyprus passports, which, as of next year, will grant them full rights to live and work anywhere in the EU.

So despite the political stalemate there is a new atmosphere in Cyprus, particularly in its northern part. People from both sides are making the journey across a few dozen kilometres and almost 30 years to see their houses and the places of their birth and heritage.

Dimitra does not want her full name to appear in print. She has an air of wonderment about her, like someone finding her way in a new and difficult situation. Her face is a map of conflicting and even painful emotions. With her jet-black hair and Grecian profile, she stands out among the Turks who now inhabit her native place, on the remote Karpaz peninsula on the northern tip of the island.

Last night was the first she had spent in her native village for nearly 30 years: "It was like a miracle," she says. She was a young girl of 11 when the Turkish army landed on the shores of Cyprus. Her family fled as refugees, all except her older brother, aged 21, who was sent to fight the invader "without any gun in his hand". His mere presence was meant to deter the aggressor but he ended up dead. The body was only discovered two years ago, identified by DNA testing.

Now she is back, checking out the scenes of her childhood. The rules of the game mean she has to stay in a hotel, not a private house. In the place she stayed the previous night, she could see the old homestead from the window. A Turkish family lives there now. She does not hate them; in fact, she gave them clothes, although she did not go into the house. There are many stories of families on both sides coming to visit their old homes and being welcomed with cups of tea. In some cases the welcome wears thin, as visitors rummage around their old homes, even looking in cupboards.

Dimitra teaches comparative religion in the Greek part of the island's capital, Nicosia. She is Christian, the Turks are Muslim, but she preaches a gospel of tolerance.

"I teach Islam, I teach yoga, I teach everything," she says. She is, of course, in favour of a united Cyprus: "Why does one small island have two states? It is not America here."

We meet at the Apostolos Andreas monastery, known as "The Lourdes of Cyprus". Looking out on a stretch of Mediterranean water, this is the reputed landing-spot of St Andrew, one of the 12 Apostles. Legend has it that the water which flows from a tap at the monastery was discovered by St Andrew by striking a rock. It is considered a source of miracle cures and St Andrew himself is said to have cured a child of blindness when he arrived from the Holy Land.

When the Annan Plan was under discussion there were demonstrations in the Turkish Cypriot area, with up to 70,000 people reportedly turning out in favour of acceptance, while some 25,000 marched in opposition to the scheme. Travelling through the Turkish zone it is easy to see why many residents want to break out of isolation. Cyprus is a rich and fruitful land, but Oguz Yarkin, a Turkish Cypriot I met in the town of Guzelyurt (Greek name: Morphou) was angry about the low return from his labours. Oranges were selling four to the pound sterling in London, he had heard, but because of the international ban on direct exports from the Turkish Cypriot zone he was forced to sell them to mainland Turks for a lot less. He supports one of the opposition Turkish Cypriot parties that are in favour of compromise.

Speaking in a crowded coffee shop on Ecevit Street, surrounded by friends playing cards and backgammon in the afternoon heat, he says: "When you say something (like this), they call you a traitor." But he insists on speaking his mind. Under the Annan Plan, his town would be handed over to the Greek side.

But Denktash is holding firm. He does not absolutely rule out a deal but is not prepared to accept the one currently on offer. He should not be underestimated; round at the waist with short arms and legs, he resembles the Wibbly-Wobbly Man, a children's toy whose shape makes it impossible to knock down.

The people around Denktash are not in the mood for compromise either. A senior legal figure who did not wish to be named told me no good would come of the Annan Plan. The status quo was the best and safest option and his basic message was the old American maxim: "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

Ankara's position is reminiscent of Dublin's in relation to Northern Ireland. Both governments want to be respected members of the international community but cannot abandon their separated brethren in the other territory. In both cases, the only practical option is to urge their compatriots along the road towards a settlement. Therefore, it is hard to avoid the feeling that the ground is shifting under Denktash and his circle. The Turkish Cypriots have elections to their 50-member parliament in December and opposition parties have formed a united front to support the Annan Plan. If they secure a majority they will seek to wrest the position of chief negotiator from Denktash.

Now 78, Denktash has been in power for nearly 40 years and has learnt a trick or two on the way. He recently proposed the reopening of Nicosia Airport, closed since 1974, and he also suggested that the coastal resort of Varosha, a ghost town with huge tourist potential, be brought back to life by agreement with the Greek Cypriots. Neither suggestion has been taken up, as both would imply recognition of the Turkish Cypriot republic at a time when its isolation is about to enter a new and more intense phase.

Dr James Ker-Lindsay, a political analyst with Civilitas Research, a think-tank based on the Greek side of the border, says the idea of reuniting Cyprus in some form of loose federation is "not dead by any stretch. The Annan Plan hasn't gone away". The Greek part of Cyprus is already considerably better off than the Turkish side and EU membership is likely to widen the gap. A high proportion of the Turkish Cypriot population has moved to north London, replaced back home by settlers from poorer areas of Turkey. Under the Annan Plan, the Turkish Cypriots would cede territory to the Greeks, leaving them with 28 per cent instead of 37 per cent of the island. That was one of the proposals Denktash couldn't swallow.

But, economically, the future of the Turkish Cypriot zone does not look bright. An official told me he was proud of the fact that it had five university-level institutions. He was less proud of the casinos that have been opened, although they are a source of income. A visit to Minarelikoy, a village 20 kilometres from Nicosia, was a study in deprivation and stagnation. Living conditions were not much better than I had seen in Palestinian refugee camps. Now completely Turkish, this village used to hold equal numbers of Greeks and Turks. Under the Annan Plan the village would be under Greek administration, a prospect that arouses mixed feelings among its inhabitants. Most of those I spoke to opposed to the plan but one woman, who fled in 1974 from Paphos on the Greek side and now runs a coffee shop, said she would go back there "if they give me a good house". Another man, standing behind his shop counter, was firmly against reintegration: "The Greek Cypriots are not enemies but I do not trust them."

Asked recently what would happen next, Denktash was defiant. "The Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus will continue to be and to function," he said. Dr Ker-Lindsay is more sceptical about the future of the Northern Cyprus mini-state: "There is a good chance that, this time next year, it will not exist."