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To myparentSy David and Tina, my wife, Kalypso, my children, Alice
and David, and my sister and brother, Leila and Adrian.
 ABBREVIATIONS

AKEL Progressive Working People's Party

AKP Justice and Development Party
CFSP Common Foreign and Security Policy
CIA Central Intelligence Agency
CRO Commonwealth Relations Office
EAM National Liberation Front
EDES National Republican Greek League
ELAS Greek People's Liberation Army
EOKA National Organisation of Cypriot Fighters
ERRF European Rapid Reaction Force
ESDI/P European Security and Defence Initiative/Identity/Policy/
Personality
EYP Greek Intelligence Service
FO Foreign Office
FCO Foreign and Commonwealth Office
ICC International Criminal Court
ICJ International Court of Justice
IRD Information Research Department
KYP Greek Intelligence Service (original name)
NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organization
SBA British Sovereign Bases
TMT Turkish Defence Force
 KEY DATES

1191 Richard Coeur de Lion, England's French King, captures Cyprus, then sells
it to the Knights Templar.
1192 Guy de Lusignan acquires Cyprus.
1473 Venice becomes protector of Cyprus.
1489 Venice introduces direct rule.
1571 Ottoman Turks capture Cyprus.
1878 Ottomans lease Cyprus to Britain.
1914 Britain annexes Cyprus.
1931 Cypriots burn down Government House.
1950 Election of Makarios III as Archbishop.
1955 EOKA campaign to free Cyprus and unite with Greece begins; British-
Greek—Turkish Conference blows up; anti-Greek riots in Turkey.
1960 Cyprus gains nominal sovereignty over most of its territory.
1963 Archbishop Makarios introduces his 'Thirteen Point Plan', with British sup-
port, to amend the constitution; 'communal troubles' begin.
1964 War between Greece and Turkey averted by Soviet and American pressure.
1967 War between Greece and Turkey threatens; Greece withdraws General Gri-
vas and 12,000 men.
1973 17 November demonstrations in Athens: Brigadier Ioannides takes over
behind the scenes.
1974 General Grivas dies; Turkey invades Cyprus and occupies thirty-eight per
cent of the island.
1977 Archbishop Makarios dies.
1983 Turkish Cypriots declare 'Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus'.
1990 Cyprus applies to join the European Union.
1996 Imia incident: threat of war between Greece and Turkey.
2002 Kofi Annan presents plan to the leaders of the two main Cypriot
communities.
(December) Copenhagen Summit.
2003 (February) Britain offers half its Cyprus territory to Cyprus if the 'Annan
Plan' is accepted; Tassos Papadopoulos elected President of Cyprus.
xii CYPRUS

(March) Talks on 'Annan Plan' fail.

(April) Cyprus signs EU accession treaty. Rauf Denktash eases travel restric-
tions to the South: Greek and Turkish Cypriots cross the dividing line.
(May) Massive increase in Turkish violations of Greek airspace.
(June) David Hannay, Britain's special envoy for Cyprus, steps down.
(July) Rauf Denktash declares that the 'Annan Plan' is unacceptable.
(December) Talks on EU constitution collapse.
2004 (January) Turkey urges resumption of Cyprus negotiations. Elections in
occupied Cyprus lead to inclusion of pro-negotiation party in coalition.
Greek Prime Minister cites Cyprus developments as the main reason for
holding Greek general election two months earlier than necessary.
(February) Following intense American pressure and meeting in New York,
the Cypriot sides resume negotiations on the Annan Plan, to be put to ref-
erenda on 24 April.
(April) President Papadopoulos advises Cypriots to vote against the Annan
Plan. They do.
Russia vetoes Security Council resolution intended to strengthen the Annan
Plan.
(May) Republic of Cyprus joins the European Union.
(October) European Commission recommends opening of EU accession
talks with Turkey.
2006 (July) President Papadopoulos and the Turkish Cypriot leader, Mr Talat,
agree on a 'new set of principles'.
(November) European Commission criticizes Turkey for not normalizing
relations with the Republic of Cyprus.
(December) EU suspends work in eight policy areas regarding the entry
negotiations with Turkey.
2008 (February) Dimitris Christofias of AKEL wins the presidential election, tak-
ing office on the 28th of that month, and almost immediately opens talks
with Mr Talat.
(December) Former President Papadopoulos dies.
 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I am grateful to Robin Cosby for intellectually creative and difficult technical work,
to Zoran Ristic for some solid assistance and to my brother Adrian for his pains-
taking proof-reading. I am also grateful to Captain Tassos Politopoulos (retired) of
the Hellenic Navy, for some incisive and true views on the whole merry-go-round
of the Cyprus situation, and to Richard Falk, Professor Emeritus of international
law at Princeton University and UN Special Representative for the situation of
human rights in the Palestinian territories occupied since 1967, for his comments
on chapter eight, without which I might have put more noses out of joint than
usual. Last but not least, I am particularly grateful to my editor at I.B.Tauris Dr.
Lester Crook, who painstakingly managed to achieve the impossible, by helping me
to simplify and clarify what was originally a text suffering in places from a degree
of convolution.
 FOREWORD

Cyprus is a fairly small island that historically seems always to have been at the
centre of great power conflict. Its history, therefore, seems an excellent one for test-
ing a variety of theories of international relations. And that is what this book sets
out to do. Written by William Mallinson, an acknowledged authority in the field,
it provides the reader not only with an up-to-date account of developments on the
island but also an examination of the ways in which these might - or might not -
be interpreted. Mallinson is an expert on many subjects from languages to public
relations, but primarily he is a trained historian. So international relations theory is
very critically examined indeed.
International historians and international relations specialists work on closely
related areas intellectually. Yet their perspectives are bound to differ. The historian
focuses on the past and should be very wary about providing any comment on the
present or the future. He is like a detective: someone who inspects a crime and has
to trace who was involved, what the chronology of events was, and what motives
were at work. He has to understand the context — personal, political, social, eco-
nomic, religious and ideological - and then conclude how the crime could have
taken place and who was responsible. The difference is, of course, that in most
cases he knows perfectly well before he starts his investigation, who was guilty. His
task has been to show why and how the crime took place - a bit like Peter Falk in
Columbo. But the task in hand is always exciting and entertaining. (My old doctoral
supervisor, A. J. P. Taylor, always claimed that history was simply part of the enter-
tainment business - although few historians, alas, can entertain the way he did.)
The international relations specialist is not at all like a detective. His focus is
sometimes on the past, when he becomes a sort of criminologist, categorising
crimes for theory's sake, rather than investigating individual ones, like the his-
torian. Rather, his focus is on the present and the future: he is interested in the
shape of things to come. So he tends to be a generalist and a soothsayer. He does
not have archives at hand to provide documentation. He doesn't know the end of
the story he is writing. He often has to go in for model-building, therefore, picking
and choosing among the historical literature to test his hypotheses, and will not be
in a position to do much original work in historical archives himself. In any case,
xvi CYPRUS

the archives will not yet be open for his period - and there are no archives for the
future.
So historians have the better of him. They also have the better of him in the
sense that they do not have to seem relevant. They can study the past for its own
sake, all centuries being, in the words of Ranke, 'equal in the eyes of God/ Their
discipline has also long ceased to be relevant to the education of statesmen or gen-
tlemen. But since statesmen have to be trained in something, international relations
theory seems to be the best substitute for a relevant education. And with it come
the great 'paradigms' of international relations: the realist paradigm, the structural-
ist paradigm and the behaviouralist paradigm. It is not my job to explain these here,
but Mallinson will do so in the course of his most challenging book. He will also
examine whether these theories can stand the test of being applied to the frustrat-
ing but fascinating history of modern Cyprus.
Mallinson's book is without doubt a controversial one. It expresses strong views
and takes aim at large targets. His views will not convince everyone. But no one
interested in Cyprus or its international history and relations can afford to neglect
it. It demolishes some of the more fanciful theory surrounding the island's inter-
national situation and demolishes the idea that Britain's part in the island's history
has been an honourable one. So please read on. This is a work that can be recom-
mended to anyone interested in Cyprus, history or international relations.

Alan Sked,
Reader in International History,
London School of Economics and Political Sciences
 EXEGESIS AND RATIONALE

Something can be understood morefully, if seen in the course of time.

Aristotle

Introduction
This book uses the most recent diplomatic documents available on Cyprus to illus-
trate the latest state of the practice and theory of international relations. Diplomatic
history is its intellectual underpinning. It therefore sets out to establish a single
framework for the following: an analysis and evaluation of the latest diplomatic
documents on Cyprus excavated from the British National Archives; a critique
of the subject of geopolitics; and a novel approach to analysing relations between
states, which I term 'geohistoricaF, the latter unashamedly advocating that only
deep knowledge of history and the mental strength to draw lessons from its study
can provide an adequate intellectual basis to comprehend the causes of, and reasons
for, problems between states: causes and reasons that transcend the still-expanding
multiplicity of competing theories with which we are confronted. In short, the
book tells a story from a geohistorical viewpoint.1 In a nutshell, if one knows the
history of foreign policy formulation, which one ascertains from the files, then one
can know how foreign policy formulation works today, rather than have to rely on
vanity memoirs and newspaper reports alone.
I have chosen Cyprus as a vehicle and case-study for scrutinizing the subject of
geopolitics, because it has become over the centuries a piece of geopolitical real-
estate par excellence. Its perceived strategic importance — in other words its physical
location — has made the island a cat's-paw of Great Power diplomacy, and the object
of international relations analysts ranging from realists to idealists, with their many
refinements and offshoots.2 It can be considered to be both a focus and a marshal-
ling yard of great power rivalry, despite - or perhaps increasingly because of - its
EU membership.
The book synthetically scrutinizes the main international relations theories,
and juxtaposes them with the truths, partial truths, and lies that emerge from
the quagmire of diplomatic documents, using the diplomatic history of Cyprus
as the medium and the example, simultaneously. The book should therefore serve
2 CYPRUS

as a bridge between the study of history and of international relations, given that
Cyprus' position vis-a-vis the Middle East, its European status, and Greek- and
Turkish-influenced religious and linguistic mix, have made it a veritable microcosm
for the biting of geostrategic fingernails of ambition since at least the time of the
Romans, followed by the Byzantines, Richard the Lionheart, the Lusignans, Vene-
tians, Ottomans, British and, today, a whole host of interested parties, including
Britain, the USA, France, Russia, Greece, Turkey and Israel, not to mention the
Cypriots themselves.
In this book, using Cyprus as the medium, we shall seek to establish links
between the influence of theory, and the extent to which it influences practice (and
vice versa) and whether theory is simply a way of explaining and/or justifying for-
eign policy. By the end of the book, we shall see that the answer lies in a combina-
tion of these, transcended by a geohistorical approach, whereby the most basic and
immutable characteristics of that curious biped, homo sapiens, may well provide us
with the answer, an answer that many are nevertheless loth to grasp, owing to the
warped ambition and lust for power that can stem from insecurity. Cyprus, and the
fascinating primary sources we have amassed, will teach us. Before looking at the
subject of geopolitics and then the geohistorical approach, let us turn to the book's
backbone, the primary sources.

The Diplomatic Documents

Diplomats, especially those posted abroad, rarely have time for international rela-
tions theory, being far too busy with the day-to-day mechanics of relations between
states, involving at base the pursuit of national interests.3 Conversely, few interna-
tional relations theorists have adequate understanding of the realities of diplomatic
work, since only a minute number have been professionally trained diplomats. Even
the likes of Kissinger, with their numerous publications on international relations
and even diplomacy, display scant regard in their lives as politicians and/or aca-
demics for the professional workings of diplomacy, as opposed to high-level inter-
national political dealings. To gain insight into the workings of relations between
states, it is therefore to diplomatic archives that we need to turn, before we even
begin to theorize seriously about the very relations that diplomats are meant to
be managing, maintaining, improving or manipulating, as the case may be. It is
through this spectrum that one can begin to understand the forces that lie behind
the 'nitty-gritty' day-to-day work, the reporting, negotiating, propaganda, policy
formulation, pursuit of national interests, and, often ignored, relations within states.
Much of the primary source material used for this book is in the form of diplo-
matic documents: annual reports, internal memoranda, position papers, telegrams
and diplomatic despatches. They enable us to see how events occurred at the time of
writing, and how they were manipulated. They betray one obvious but oft-ignored
factor, that of continuity, whether we mean diplomatic analyses or day-to-day
actions and reactions. They are connected by the factor of perceived national inter-
est, with genuinely moral considerations rarely, if ever, part of the picture, although
we find a smattering of hypocritical moral indignation in the case of Cyprus. The
 EXEGESIS AND RATIONALE 3

documents often betray a sense of detachment bordering on superciliousness, per-

haps a disguise for suppressed and oppressed emotion, the latter sometimes bub-
bling to the surface. The documents are essentially human, a fact that cannot be
concealed by the formality, conventions, drafting rules and diplomatic frameworks
which serve as the background to the writing of the various documents.
Human weaknesses, as well as strengths, emerge. For example, a study of the
documents about the invasion of Cyprus in 1974, and of those for the following
year, reveals that the Foreign Secretary and later Prime Minister, James Callaghan,
did not tell the truth about his foreknowledge of, and worries about, the impending
Turkish intervention in, and invasion of, Cyprus.4 The documents reveal how the
British government wished to divide the two main communities in Cyprus,5 while
another shows how the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) admitted that
Britain did not need its bases in Cyprus, and wished to give them up, but was unable
to do so because of the 'importance of working with the Americans'.6
Whatever the consistencies and inconsistencies of policy formation that emerge
from the documents, they display a continuity of method, particularly in that they
are predicated on perceived national interest, even where there is internal disagree-
ment. Thus in 1947, while one faction in the Foreign Office (FO) was advocating
giving Cyprus to Greece to strengthen the latter in its fight against communism,
another wanted to hang on to Cyprus, claiming that Greece was likely to fall to
the communists. Both factions had the perceived British national interest at heart.
Such documents, even when displaying flawed argumentation, and the occasional
hint of snideness, are nevertheless well ordered, steeped in a tradition of coherence
and continuity that placed Her Majesty's Diplomatic Service head and shoulders
above most of its rivals. Things are not the same today. Britain's socio-economic
decline is reflected in the lowering of standards in its diplomatic service.
Diplomatic primary source documents are the raw material of many a histo-
rian seeking to scrutinize and understand how and why events occur. When one
begins to think about their implications, one starts to think by default about rela-
tions between states, and how diplomacy (and of course diplomats are not the only
power brokers by any means) functions as the nuts and bolts of international rela-
tions. One sees how, albeit subconsciously, some international relations theory is
sometimes practised by default, simply because of the plethora of think tanks that
support (subtly) various government positions through their publications, positions
which are then espoused by politicians and acted on by diplomats. Some politicians
even write articles for quasi-academic journals such as International Affairs or Foreign
Affairs, thus rubbing shoulders with respected academics, and gaining apparently
intellectual kudos, as well as acceptance of, if not outright support for, unpopular
policies. Although many of the diplomatic documents are written by professional
diplomats, they reflect, especially in the case of Cyprus, a marked tendency towards
political realism, particularly since their main concern is interest, in other words
acting in the perceived interests of the country they represent. They therefore tend
to consider international relations in a state-centric manner, particularly since they
themselves represent the state. This is so, even if they have not themselves studied
r 4 CYPRUS

international relations theory. They tend to be political realists if they are flexing
their state's muscles, or practitioners of Bismarckian Kealpolitik, if they are being
more moderate.
In this connexion, utilitarianism, as a helpful and subtle underpinning for politi-
cal realism, provides a useful background for considering the British documents,
since it is this philosophy, or way of thinking about the world, that comes through
in British foreign policy formulation. The concepts of 'the greatest good for the
greatest number' and 'the end justifies the means' provide justification (false or
otherwise) for unpopular decisions. In the case of Cyprus, this comes through in
various position papers. In cynical hands, utilitarianism can be destructive. For
example, the killing of hundreds of thousands can be justified, provided that the
killings help the majority. Here, Hiroshima and Nagasaki come to mind, where
the lives of a million American troops were apparently saved through the killing
of hundreds of thousands of Japanese civilians. At a different level, many British
politicians and diplomats preferred to hang on to Cyprus, against the wishes of the
majority of the island's people, because they believed that British control was neces-
sary in the fight against communism. How true this reason was is for the reader to
decide by the end of this book.
British diplomacy is well known for its pragmatism and flexibility, fitting well
into a utilitarian world, relying as it does on the senses, with an aversion towards
abstract ideas. Precision, it has been written, is inimical to British mental habits,
since precision implies commitment,7 which is antithetical to the foundation of,
and practice of, British foreign policy, which tends more towards a 'wait and see'
attitude. Behind this lies Palmerston's pragmatic statement to the House of Com-
mons: 'We have no eternal allies and no perpetual enemies. Our interests are eter-
nal and perpetual, and those interests it is our duty to follow'.8 This still comes
across in the scrutiny of British foreign policy documents, particularly in the case
of British possession of land on Cyprus (the Sovereign Base Areas, or SBAs), where
the FCO studiously avoided bringing to the fore the precise responsibilities of Brit-
ain's sovereignty in the face of the UN Charter, the FCO privately admitting that
the Charter overrode, for example, the Treaty of Guarantee, but doing its utmost to
play down the question. Precision was dangerous. Hence the importance that the
British attach to 'informal' meetings. The more the formality, the more the com-
mitment, and the more difficult the escape route. It is not surprising that Britain
still shies away from having a written constitution or a legally enforceable Bill of
Rights, preferring the informal path and Acts of Parliament. This phenomenon can
be regarded as a strength ('the British don't need pedantry'), and proves useful at
the international level. In this context, the diplomatic papers on Cyprus, and par-
ticularly those on the 1960 treaties (see Chapter 5) make interesting reading. As we
shall see, some of the papers are perfect examples of political realism, even if some
may conclude that Britain is no longer strong enough to practise power-politics off
its own bat.
The documents show how Britain's - and indeed other countries' - obses-
sion with the Dardanelles continues to this day, and how Britain's imperial naval
 EXEGESIS AND RATIONALE 5

strategy perpetuates itself, even without a powerful navy, thanks to Britain's 'piggy-
backing' of the US in matters of military strategy, especially regarding Cyprus.
Winston Churchill wrote that 'for four hundred years the foreign policy of England
has been to oppose the strongest, most aggressive, most dominating Power on the
Continent'.9 This is still true today: Britain fears a truly united Europe, and there-
fore periodically joins countries such as Poland in promoting pro-US and non-
Communautaire foreign policy, the most obvious recent example being that of the
Iraq war. British foreign policy is atavistic, in the sense that the imperial mentality
still rears its atavistically ugly head from time to time, over places like Cyprus and
Diego Garcia. Whatever lip-service might be paid to an 'ethical foreign policy'
from time to time, this tends more often than not to be a smokescreen to mask
self-interest. Few in their right mind could, for example, say that the attack on Iraq,
surrounded as it was by lying, was humanitarian by any stretch of the imagination,
particularly since it led to the violent deaths of hundreds of thousands of innocent
people. Political realism was the order of the day. Realist and utilitarian theory pro-
vided the respectable background to the mass killings.
When one looks at the Cyprus papers, the other major concern that shines
through (apart from Europe) is Britain's fear of its bugbear, Russia. One sees in the
recently released papers a replication of Britain's obsession with Russia's attempts
to build up its power in the Mediterranean, hence the Crimean War, and today,
British support of Turkey's application to join the EU, in line with US policy, but
at odds with that of Franco-German 'Old Europe'. Cyprus is very much a strategic
tool for the Anglo-Saxon alliance in this respect, particularly poignant now, with
Russia beginning to reassert its authority after considerable bear-baiting by the
US, Britain and the formerly communist East European nouvelles arrivees on the EU
stage. Strategy is, indeed, the name of the game, as revealed by the documents.
Before we return to our geohistorical theme, let us turn to 'geopolitics', taking the
bull by the horns, since this 'primitive form of IR theory', as Christopher Hill calls
it,10 seems to have spread its tentacles to virtually every corner of international rela-
tions practice and theory. The crude theory of geopolitics is perhaps the closest we
have yet been to theory transmogrifying into practice, usually in a violent manner,
as for example with German National Socialist power.

Geopolitics
The proponents of geopolitics are closely connected to the realist school of interna-
tional relations (see Chapter 3), particularly since the acquisition of resources is part
of the objective of acquiring and projecting power. Before attempting to comment
constructively on geopolitics, let us consider some of the criticisms, enunciated
cogently by Christopher Hill.11
His first observation is that when policy-makers took up geopolitical thinking, a
number of the factors involved (for example the obsession with trying to control/
possess the 'world island' - see Chapter 3), then became self-fulfilling prophecies.
'All revealed the obsession of the times with a neo-Darwinian view of international
relations of struggle and survival, which reached its nadir in fascism.'12 Here, again,
6 CYPRUS

we perceive the incipient connexion with the realist school. As we shall see, the
likes of Kissinger brought geopolitics back into fashion, despite the horrors of the
Second World War.13 In spite of the alleged14 end of the Cold War in 1989, the word
'geopolitics* is still on the lips of an enormous number of academics and politicians,
particularly with the increasingly desperate struggle for the world's resources, oil in
particular. At an extreme, oil pipelines almost become geopolitical maps. Old-style
borders, encompassing culturally and historically homogenous groups of people,
become less relevant in the eyes of the 'geopolitician', or, as Hill writes: 'The ran-
dom way in which frontiers are superimposed on the world means that states vary
enormously in size, mineral wealth, access to the sea, vulnerability, and cohesive-
ness/15
It is no exaggeration to say, in this context, that certain modern Arab states were
created simply because of the location of oil and, therefore, for geopolitical consid-
erations; and that the Iraq War, just like Hitler's attack on Russia, was essentially
geopolitical. It certainly fitted in with Haushofer's theories about the soil, and with
the Drang nach Osten. Similarly, several of the new statelets that exploded into exist-
ence (or partial 're-existence') in the early 90s were strongly supported by the US
for geopolitical reasons, namely to control a perceived vacuum, while Russia took
stock of its position. Despite the protestations of the inventors of the term 'soft
power' (essentially using economic clout to achieve foreign policy objectives), it
seems clear that 'applied geopolitics' can be synonymous with military politics (and,
therefore, 'geo-killing'), since the simplistic division of the world into geopolitical
regions and the realization of the interests of strong powers often relies on going
to war unilaterally.
Here, since we are really talking about military strategy (a vital component of
applied geopolitics), it is worth trying to give a more precise, and less 'ornery',
view of geopolitics: for Greek academic Ioannis Mazis, it is an x-ray of reality and,
thus, the study of the distribution of power internationally, with the four kinds
of power being military, economic, political and cultural/informational. This, in
turn, implies the existence of geostrategy, or 'political intervention to transform or
intensify the results of geopolitical analysis'.16 Here, Mazis at least provides us with
a distinction between 'geopolitical' and 'geostrategic', a distinction lacking in the
political vocabulary of most politicians and diplomats - a reflection, perhaps, of
their tendency to latch on to fashionable terms without fully understanding their
implications. In this connexion, it is significant that, of the various theories and
paradigms which we shall look at in Chapters 2 and 3, it is the terms 'geopolitics'
and 'geostrategy' that we hear a great deal on the lips of those with a personal stake
in international relations practice. Perhaps this is because the terms provide an
(albeit simplistic) intellectual link between theory and practice. There is, after all,
considerable disharmony between international theory and diplomatic practice,17
hence the use of a term invented by theoreticians, but welcomed by 'little-time-to-
think' practitioners.
How original is geopolitics? The term certainly sounds impressive, but what it
seeks to describe, analyse, evaluate and, often (in terms of geostrategy) advocate,
 EXEGESIS AND RATIONALE 7

is in fact old. Since the invention of maps, strategic and geopolitical considerations
have been important in relations between states (whether pre- or post-Westphalian
concepts), especially in war. Although many wars were dynastic and religious, land,
resources and trade usually lay behind the outward reasons given. Just as the Cru-
sades degenerated into land-grabbing, with defending the Cross as the excuse, so
was Bush's 'humanitarian' and 'moral' attack on Iraq simply about oil and military
control. The Dardanelles, referred to above, have always been a strategic and geo-
political obsession, since at least Homeric times. The very acquisition of Cyprus by
Britain in 1878 (see Chapter 3) was unashamedly strategic and geopolitical, even
if the latter word was not yet in fashion. Napoleon Bonaparte had already stated
the obvious: 'Any state makes its politics suit its geography'.18 Emulating this view,
the hard-nosed geopolitical realist Zbigniew Brzezinski described geopolitics as a
'combination of geographic and political factors which determine the position of
a state or region, with emphasis on the impact of geography on politics'.19 These
ideas can also be deduced from Thucydides, especially when one considers the
(strategic) location of Corinth. There is nothing new in geopolitics, other than the
word and various semantic refinements and sub-divisions, to take into account
modern technology and new resources. Its cold and inhuman way of approaching
relations between states may be accurate and an honest reflection of the outcome of
human characteristics and motives; yet it paradoxically ignores the true ingredients
of international relations: the human factor itself. This, perhaps, explains why, like
single-factor explanations such as globalization or the simplistic 'clash of civiliza-
tions', geopolitics has its lure, but could soon be a mere curiosity.20 Like so much
international relations theory, geopolitics appears as an escape route from admit-
ting the truth about relations between states, a truth which is based on human
behaviour, particularly fear and greed. Let us now turn to geohistory.

Geohistory
Far from packaging thoughts, ideologies, paradigms, approaches, concepts and
events into personal interpretations of history to suit one's own wishes, geohistory
accepts history as a neutral continuum that remains perforce entirely unaffected by
any interpretation. The past is the past, which blends into the future as we write.
Events alone can of course be interpreted, although the very act of interpreting
does tend to create dispute in the form of what we can term 'different colours'. We
can nevertheless say that the same things have been happening, and will continue
to happen, however we choose to package and interpret them, simply because they
are predicated on immutable human characteristics. It is not that history repeats
itself, but rather that the similar behaviour of the human species simply mani-
fests itself ad infinitum with different colours, to suit our own selfish desires, new
technology and allegedly new ideas. Therefore, it can be argued that Hegel and
Marx, for instance, were banging their heads against the wall in using (their view
of) history to argue in favour of, for example, German superiority, or materialism
and production. In this sense, they - and numerous others - are twisting events to
suit their wishful thinking. But history transcends mere analysis, since it is simply
8 CYPRUS

the past up to now, and is neutral by definition. As we said earlier, only definitely
known (historical) events can be used as examples, to then be analysed and evalu-
ated. It is from past behaviour that we learn more, rather than from trying to dis-
sect and exploit the past to prove what we want.
International relations, as a subject of serious study, is even newer than the term
'geopolitics'. Its advent was inevitable: as people moved ever faster with the indus-
trial and technological revolution, political theory, which is at least as old as Soc-
rates, and considers the single state ab initio^ developed into international theory,
which placed the emphasis on relations between states. Out of improved shipping
technology came the voyages of discovery and the likes of Bodin and Grotius,
with the beginnings of international law (although, even here, one could argue that
international law existed in the Greek, and especially in the Roman, world). In any
event, by the end of the First World War21 (in reality the Third World War) and
with the surge in mass emotion that so often comes after mass killing, international
relations theories began their steady and inexorable march. Some of these theories
justify themselves by reference to past people and events. Where would modern
political realism (see Chapter 2) be without Thucycides, Machiavelli and Hobbes,
whether or not they were true political realists?
The more international relations theories that have been invented, the less likely
it becomes that there can ever be one international relations theory.22 One could
even argue that coagulation is setting in, with desperate attempts to find something
new. Huntington's simplistic 'clash of civilizations' (see Chapter 8) is a case in point.
Fukuyama, with his curious theory about the end of history, has now desperately
turned to 'masculine values and biology'.23 Lebow is turning to the importance of
the spirit in his new theory of international relations, referring to Socrates,24 almost
reinventing the latter.
International relations theories are condemned to remain but theories, neces-
sary perhaps as an intellectual tool of respectability and as a starting point to attack
other theories. There is however an argument for attempting to bridge the study of
(international) history and theory. Many historians have a low regard for the sort of
work theorists do, just as many theorists tend to look down on historians as mere
fact-mongers.25 Historians, however, need to understand why international rela-
tions theories abound, simply because much of the content of history, namely the
events so faithfully recorded by purist historians is itself created by, or result from,
the very theories that some historians decry. To elaborate, international historians
and purist international relations academics do not as a rule take each other into
account when researching and writing, although the IR person certainly needs at
least a grounding in history (and, hopefully, literature) to understand the (geo-
graphical) areas that he sets out to analyse and evaluate.
The purist historian is interested in recording and establishing the veracity of
facts. Once he is reasonably satisfied with the reliability of those facts, he sometimes
sets out to analyse and evaluate them. This involves, obviously, an interpretation
and therefore, sometimes, the kind of evaluation that is akin to judgement. With
the fairly recent advent of international relations as an academic subject (1919), the
 EXEGESIS AND RATIONALE 9

historian has seen the evaluative part of his role being 'encroached upon' by the IR
field. The study of relations between states (or IR) is today therefore shared among
historians, IR people and political scientists, with sociologists, psychologists, com-
munication theorists, anthropologists, and various 'communication experts' jumping
on to the bandwagon. A purist historian can understandably look askance at these
other subjects in terms of his exacting work, since the word 'relations' is more of an
abstract than a concrete term, and therefore open to all kinds of speculation, which
can detract from mental precision.
The historian therefore remains in an ivory castle at his peril, running the risk
of simply being exploited by other academic and quasi-academic subjects. In fact,
since he does perforce himself analyse and evaluate, as well as simply establish
veracity, he needs to be aware of the many approaches and theories that abound
in international relations, to provide him with an insight into attitudes which can,
themselves, influence the making of history. Similarly, the IR theorist needs to
recognize that without the painstaking task of establishing how history occurs, he
can himself end up in an ivory castle, ignored by the practitioners of international
relations, who often have little time for theory.
The historian's, especially the diplomatic historian's, lifeblood is the file, in the
original form. By scrutinizing files over a number of years (files generated by the
practitioners of relations between states, among others), he establishes coherent
trends and understands policy formation better even than the IR academic can.
He sees drafts, and how they are altered; he can even analyse the handwriting.
Here, no computer can help, since the material released by governments on to the
Internet is selective and often in print, without marginal comments. Even archives
reproduced by governments in the form of books are insufficient, since they are
inevitably selective, and often do not include the arguments between officials and
departments, or more selective information. The diplomatic historian is therefore
- or should be - indispensable to the IR academic who, armed with the historian's
work, has the ingredients for his thinking. Most important, policy formulation can
only be understood by looking at developments over a number of years, or even
centuries, in the form of the primary sources. Thus a serious IR person avoids
history at his peril. Yet it is equally true that the historian needs to know what the
theorist is thinking - and he will not obtain such knowledge from primary sources
alone. He will need to read contemporary articles to understand how theorists have
influenced practitioners.
The IR theorist should ideally say to himself: 'What is this life if, full of care, one
has no time to stand and stare,' using the facts established by the historian. On their
own, theories tend to be based on models, often rather mechanistic ones. If they
become too involved, or ignore detailed historical data, they can become coagu-
lated, and catapult themselves out of sensible debate. History can and does bring
theories back to earth, and helps IR theoreticians, bombarded as they are with the
fast flow of computerized information and press reporting, to 'stand and stare'.
Owing to the release of documents 30 years after the event, one often comes
across press reporting and analyses from the 1960s that were clearly warped or
10 CYPRUS

biased, even if at the time the writer believed the facts to be true. It was only 30
years after the event, for example, that the journalist and IR analyst were able to
discover the real motives of the British government in preparing a conference on
'security problems in the Middle East, including Cyprus*: to divide Greece and Tur-
key, and therefore hang on to Cyprus. The historian, slightly cynical and exacting,
having seen and understood the previous history of policy formulation, is less likely
to fall into the trap of risky assumption and theorizing.
To come closer to geohistory, one needs to accept that only history can teach us
about relations between states. Aristotle was correct in writing that something can
be understood more fully, if seen in the course of time.26
Seeking constants in history, or indeed in any area, is a risky business. Yet there
is one constant in history, which lies at the basis of geohistory, and is indeed its
starting point: human nature. It has remained constant throughout the millen-
nia, thereby opening up the possibility, indeed probability, that ancient lessons and
observations can be of modern significance.27 In an albeit cynical way, A. J. P. Tay-
lor saw this, writing that we learn from history how to repeat our mistakes. It fol-
lows that if the basic human characteristics remain essentially the same throughout
the millennia, then mistakes will necessarily continue. If, on the other hand, one
adopts a less Malthusian and more optimistic approach, then one can study events,
good, bad, and ugly, and set out to ensure that what led to the bad ones cannot
recur, or at least to create conditions which make them less likely to recur. This is
where the IR theorist can help, but only provided that he studies history.
This requires the recognition that the basics for understanding international
relations are simple human characteristics, such as greed, fear, ambition, anger
and pride, as well as virtues such as unselfishness, charity, humility and a simple
desire to help others as well as oneself. Montesquieu was nevertheless correct in his
observation that in the context of the state, greed masters everyone, while virtue
vanishes.28
For thousands of years, man has been obsessed with possession and territory,
often a result of his need for security. The further back we go, the more obvious it
becomes that the strong rule the weak (at least while they remain strong). However,
since the emergence of new forms of government, of international law and of the
widespread concept of the equality of human beings, the idea of the stronger ruling
the weaker has become outdated, in theory if not in practice. This is a lesson that
has not been learned by the practitioners of political realism/power politics who,
rather than learn how to avoid the 'power' wars of the past, seem bent on repeating
the mistakes of past warmongers. Should the realist point to the Pax Romana, it
can be pointed out that, in the days when subjugation of one people by another was
often accepted as natural, even without fighting, so was the Pax Romana accept-
able. Today, any such idea is anathema, based as it is on power, since the concept of
equality among people - and among states - takes precedence. Thus naive attempts
to emulate, for example, the Romans, cause more, not less war, as recent history
demonstrates. For better or worse, geopolitics simply ignores, or treats very scant-
ily, the 'basics of the human being', concentrating by implication on the very factors
 EXEGESIS AND RATIONALE 11

which stimulate greed and desire: resources and land. People are reduced to being
simply consumers.
The more theories that are invented, the more the practice of international
relations becomes coagulated and divorced from reality (in other words from the
realities of greed, fear, insecurity, ambition and pride) and the more international
relations theories appear surrealistic. Cyprus, however, enables us to bridge the gap
between theory and history by providing not only a good example of the greedy
and ambition-laden side of geopolitics and political realism/power politics, but also
a litany of basic facts which underline how the island has been treated as a piece of
real-estate (in Kissinger's cynical terminology). Thus, in understanding the ways
that some power-mongers think, one can better understand Cyprus and the state
of relations between states. Cyprus brings us close to the realities of both practice
and theory. This will become increasingly apparent, as we move through the book
via the documents.
Geohistory transcends theories, not by ignoring them, but by recognizing
the need to avoid trying to impose perfection in an imperfect world. Geohistory
includes in its panoply of considerations the fact that lying and skulduggery are
very much part and parcel of the real - as opposed to the theoretical and would-be
- world of the realists, idealists, behaviourists and the rest. It does not spit at them,
but neither does it depend on them, other than to understand that the various
theories are themselves the result of human nature, and, as such, part of geohistory.

The Power Fetish

In studying the diplomatic history of Cyprus, one sees that the objective of pursuing
'the national interest' is inextricably bound up with that of power, in all its manifes-
tations. Nietzschean thinking, with its obsession with power, suggests that history
is full of blindness, madness and injustice. Here, one could justifiably substitute
the word 'mankind' for 'history', since history itself is a neutral process of events,
whether good, bad or ugly, and in this sense, history as a subject is simply the past,
and not something to be judged per se. The 'blindness, madness and injustice' (as
well as the more positive factors) are of course part of the content of history, and
manifest themselves consistently, to the point of permanence. Thus behaviour that
we might deem to be 'irrational' becomes rational by its very constancy. One could
argue that serious disagreement among diplomats and politicians leads to 'blind-
ness, madness and injustice', perhaps at the point at which war becomes an exten-
sion of politics. In other words, an excess of logic leads men to behave worse than
the worst beasts. Far from being irrational, however, acts such as Churchill's bomb-
ing of Dresden, the nuclear bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the extermina-
tion of Armenians, Jews, Gypsies and German communists, and even the genocide
of the Red Indians, were coldly calculated occurences, labelled irrational by some,
in self-denial of the cruel and greedy side of human nature. One of the inevitable
characteristics of diplomatic documents is that through their diplomatic style and
(usually) high standard of English, they create an illusion of common sense, detach-
ment and rationality that can from time to time belie reality, in the sense that they
12 CYPRUS

can detach the researcher from the raw 'nitty-gritty' of events and the smell and
sight of blood and spilled guts. Theory, when used judiciously, is needed to bring
this out, since practitioners are, in contrast, merely trying consciously to achieve
their objectives, to the exclusion of moral considerations. Interests become sacro-
sanct.
Mass human and state behaviour can be better understood, as we have said,
through study and analysis of diplomatic documents over the years. This we shall
set out to do in the case of Cyprus, revealing in the process the human weakness
of insecurity, which is, in the opinion of this author, one of the main ingredients
of the thirst for power, along with ambition and greed. This will come up time and
time again when considering the diplomatic history of Cyprus. For now, suffice it
to say that Britain acquired Cyprus to increase its power in the Mediterranean and,
therefore, in the Middle East.
It can be posited that Vico and Guicciardini are much closer to our sketch of
geohistory than Nietzsche, Hegel and Marx. Let us mention the latter briefly within
the context of power, particularly given the political realists' and the extreme geo-
politicians' obsession with power. Nietzsche's thinking hinges on his idea of the
Ubermensch, much exploited by the Nazis.29 Hegel, on the other hand, with his coldly
logical and allegedly rational approach to history, his sense of inevitability, and his
concept of the ideal state as German,30 is intellectually rumbustious in his histori-
cism. Like Nietzsche's, his ideas were also exploited by the Nazis. He appears to
exploit his view of history to promote his ideas of rationality and divine Germanic
perfection. Marx, also a 'history fetishist', but essentially materialistic, exploits
history by replacing God and religion with society and economics. The essence
becomes production, and who controls it. Both Marx and Hegel are categorical in
their view of history, the former with his rather simplistic stages of communalism,
slavery, feudalism, capitalism and his nirvana, communism, and the latter with his
apparent glorification of war, as a prerequisite for cleaning the stagnant waters of
humanity.
Yet why mention these political thinkers, obsessed as they are with the concept
of power? Because it is thinkers like these whose ideas influence, subliminally or
more patently, policy formulators, whether politicians or professional diplomats.
Even if they have passed away, they have bequeathed a mass of followers and inter-
preters. Looking now at Cyprus, and relating it to theory, it is clear that the coun-
try is to some extent a victim of political realism (power politics), epitomized, for
example, by Kissinger's intrusive interest in the island: the very same Kissinger
who played an important role in making geopolitics fashionable again, and who
admired the power politics of Metternich. A quote about him from a diplomatic
document speaks volumes:

Frank regarded Kissinger with considerable misgivings. He thought he was far more
in the mould of Metternich than a man with a full understanding of the inter-depend-
ence of a modern world. He was interested in where power resided and the exercise
 EXEGESIS AND RATIONALE 13

of power. Frank clearly feared that this nineteenth-century approach was affecting
White House thinking and perhaps the attitude of the President in particular.31

Thus we see a direct correlation between documentary evidence and international

relations theory. The usefulness of the primary source documents is that their con-
sistent study can reveal the influence of great political thinkers and 'historicists'
like Nietzsche, Hegel, Marx and others, but at the same time bring us back to
earth. The ineluctable chronology of connected events with which the analytical
researcher becomes acquainted comes alive through juxtaposition. The documents
are themselves history. In contrast, Nietzsche, Hegel, Marx and others, despite
their rarefied intellectual approach (often based on pre-Socratic philosophy, but
only clumsily applied to a more modern world), appear to relate their accumulation
of facts to their concept of history, thereby raising history to an unreal philosophi-
cal pedestal, implying by default that history is itself a philosophy, rather than what
it really is: that which has gone before. Yet, while history per se is separate from
theory, the actual study of history will be enhanced by understanding the way that
the perpetrators of history think. This is a geohistorical approach.
Returning to the primary diplomatic sources, it is through Guicciardini that
events can be more readily understood, without having to negotiate the labyrinthine
thought processes of, for example, Nietzsche.32 The former's view that things have
always been the same, that the past illuminates the future, and that the same things
return with different colours is certainly more down-to-earth and realistic than
the idealism of Marx or Hegel. In looking at documents over a period, particularly
those relating to the international relations microcosm of Cyprus, one really does
see the same things returning with different colours (the colours often painted on
to suit current trends), and the past illuminating the future. For example, a read-
ing of British policy documents on Cyprus for 1964 literally paves the way for the
Turkish intervention and invasion of 1974. Of course, one can take it further back:
in 1955, when Britain got the Turkish government involved in Cyprus, the docu-
ments from then on show increasing Turkish involvement (in an island over which
they had no rights, according to the Treaty of Lausanne). The fascinating aspect of
studying past documents chronologically is that in 2010, a researcher can predict in
1955 something likely to occur at some future date (in this case 1974). Like a Racine
play, you know what is likely to happen, but are drawn to how and when it will hap-
pen. You realise that time perse is irrelevant, while chronology is crucial.
Vico's view of Mankind is also relevant here. Unlike the rationalism of Des-
cartes, he postulated that perfection could never exist on Earth. Science could
never explain the essence of a thing, but only how it is made. His belief in God and
God's plan for Mankind must be anathema to many of the behaviourist school,
with their insistence on the methodologies of natural science to explain behaviour.
But for Vico, Nature was of God, and not the antithesis. He believed that history
was cyclical, with civilisations passing from anarchy to order and vice versa. The
study of history was necessary to understand Mankind,33 which meant a deep study
of human characteristics, so often missing from the many current international
14 CYPRUS

relations theories. In his way, Vico brings us down to earth, by stressing the human
factor.
The point of making these references to thinkers with an interest in history is to
demonstrate the degree of their usefulness in studying the diplomatic documents
on Cyprus. In terms of understanding the facts and opinions contained in the
papers, the thinkers clearly provide food for thought, and all the more so, because
while the diplomats and most of the politicians involved in writing the documents
were not themselves political thinkers, (particularly since technology has meant
that the space to think has become increasingly subservient to the need for action),
they may well have nevertheless been subliminally influenced by various thinkers,
not to mention by fashionable ideas, such as 'humanitarian intervention', which are
sometimes cynically used to disguise unilateral attacks on countries.

Conclusions
As this book will set out to demonstrate, out of an area the size of Cyprus, geo-
historical analysis and evaluation can aid understanding not only of Cyprus itself,
but by default of the whole state of relations between states. Cyprus, in this sense,
becomes a microcosm: a microcosm of both the current practice of IR, given its
status as a cat's-paw of interested alien powers such as Britain, the US, Israel, Turkey
and (but not alien) Greece, and also of the state of theory; in other words, thinking
about relations between states, the case of Cyprus is most emphatically an object
of political realism/power politics. Yet much knowledge can be gained and lessons
learned from areas even smaller than Cyprus: take, for example, the tiny Greek
island of Gavdos, to the southwest of Crete. In May 1996, the Turkish General
Staff stated that Gavdos (and other islands and tiny rocks around Crete) must not
be used for a Nato exercise, due to 'its disputed status of property' (sic).34 In 2007,
I asked various governments, including the Turkish one, the following question:
'Does your government consider the Isle of Gavdos (south of Crete) to be part of
Greek territory? If not, why not?' The Turkish embassy passed me from official to
official, but never replied. None of the replies that I received from the British, Ital-
ian, French or German governments actually stated that Gavdos is a Greek island.35
Most embarrassingly for these governments, however, the European Commission
had actually already stated in 1999 that the islands of Gavdos (and Gavdopoula)
are under Greek sovereignty in accordance with the arrangements of the Treaty of
London of 1913.36 From taking our geohistorical look at Gavdos, then, we can draw
the following tentative conclusions: EU governments do not have a co-ordinated
view about Greek sovereignty of Gavdos; EU governments are loth to irritate the
Turks, when it comes to Greek-Turkish relations; and individual EU governments'
embassies and foreign ministries are either unaware of, or do not follow, Euro-
pean Commission policy. At another level, the position of a minute Greek island
suddenly gains strategic and geopolitical significance affecting Nato; above all, it
casts our minds back to the Ottoman Empire and how Greece regained Crete. In
short, it provides us with a geohistorical continuum of international human behav-
iour, bringing in strategic ambition, greed, pride and fear. An extreme hypothetical
 EXEGESIS AND RATIONALE 15

parallel example of the Gavdos story would be for the Austrian government (in its
theoretical capacity as successor to the Hapsburg Empire) to lay claim to an islet
off the Croatian coast; or more absurdly, for the United Kingdom, as the successor
state to England, to lay claim to Calais. In any event, if even Gavdos can be seen as
a gauge of the state of relations between states, then with Cyprus, as we shall see,
the gauge is far bigger and more complex.
In this book, we shall try to avoid as much as possible the linguistic bulimia
that has arisen from international relations theory, such as 'roadmap', 'window of
opportunity', 'international community', 'actor', 'period of time' and 'extraordinary
rendition', words and expressions which suggest that 'most people are other people,
their thoughts being someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, and their pas-
sions a quotation'.37
In seeking to consider history as the key to understanding Cyprus within an
international relations context, we suggest that a solid intellectually credible link
between geography and politics is the human factor, and, therefore, the full range
of human strengths and weaknesses. In short, we shall try to elevate the Cyprus
question (or reduce it) to the simple neutral continuum of history. We shall look in
the next chapter at the main international relations theories, in a necessarily syn-
optic way, simply to put down a marker for the theory which we shall be relating,
throughout the book, to the reality of the diplomatic documents about modern
Cyprus. 'Perhaps we'd have fewer wars if everyone wasn't so eager to convince
someone else of his own particular truth'.38
 THINKING ABOUT THEORY

Where is the wisdom lost to knowledge, where is the knowledge lost to information and where is
the word we lost in words?
T.S. Elliot1

Introduction
This book considers the modern diplomatic history of Cyprus by examining
recently released archival material to expose the backstage diplomatic squabbling
and power politics that surround — and permeate — the island, and which have
resulted in a failed meta-colonial cratocidal2 constitution, three Graeco-Turkish
war alerts and a Turkish occupation of over one third of the EU member that
continues today, in defiance of international law and the Grotian legal tradition of
trying to control Man's worst excesses, whether on land (war) or at sea and in the
air (trade). We shall now set out to summarize and put into the book's context the
main international relations theories that we shall encounter from time to time in
the book.
The historian's task is, strictly speaking, to scrutinize and analyze in order to
establish veracity. Consequently, he is not as a rule involved in philosophical and
theoretical issues forming the basis of the 'paradigmatic debate' on which interna-
tional relations specialists focus.3 Indeed, were the historian, particularly the diplo-
matic historian, to be asked to take international relations theory into account, he
would soon become confused, as he saw his painstaking work and the necessary
precision of his approach being impinged upon by a maelstrom of peripheral ideas
that often clashed with each other.
This book, however, recognizing the undeniable impact of international rela-
tions theory on the interpretation of international and, therefore, diplomatic his-
tory, departs from purist historiographical convention by also considering the
Cyprus conundrum through the prism of various competing theories, in which
a critique of the geopolitical approach will figure largely. To avoid accusations of
invading and pillaging the territory of international relations theory, we shall adopt
a pragmatic approach, rather than use the various methodologies and classical
axioms distilled from cognate disciplines and ancient writings respectively, which
18 CYPRUS

sometimes lend legitimacy to, and thereby transmogrify, opinions into theories. Let
us set our viewpoint firmly, so as to avoid any misunderstanding, by quoting from
Giambattista Vico:

It is true that men themselves made this world of nations [...] but this world without
doubt has issued from a mind often diverse, at times quite contrary, and always supe-
rior to the particular ends that men had proposed to themselves.4

This quote explains simply why, however hard and desperately people hunt for and
create explanations and justifications for international behaviour, they will never
find their pot of gold if they adopt a strictly rational approach, for the simple rea-
son that the human being cannot be reduced to a series of patterns and numerical
formulae.

The Maelstrom of Theories

Just as international relations theory has made an impact on the broad study of
international history, so political science has affected the study of international
relations, to the extent of even merging with the latter, mainly through the medium
of normative theory,5 the latter being a term, taken, like so many others, from cog-
nate disciplines, such as, in this case, philosophy. International relations has in fact
become international politics,6 just as the study of public relations has merged with
that of communication, with its ever-increasing amount of theory.7 Both interna-
tional and public relations are subjects which exploit various disciplines to fash-
ion their respective intellectual underpinnings. Although the social sciences were
themselves embryonic when some of the earlier international relations theories,
classical realism in particular, were being expounded, they began, much to the
chagrin of the classical realists and the 'English School', to make inroads, despite
being virulently attacked. Friedrich von Hayek, for example, considered the word
'social' to be one of those 'weasel words which drain the meaning from the concept
to which they are attached', referring to the term 'social science' as the application
of untested speculations to political topics.8 Susan Strange, herself a professor of
international relations, likened social scientists to 'peasants who believe there is a
pot of gold buried at the end of the rainbow, despite their repeated failures to track
it down'.9 Lin Yutang offers a deeper insight, in writing that putting human affairs
into exact formulae shows a lack of sense of humour and therefore a lack of wis-
dom.10 More devastatingly, he writes:

Man's love for words is his first step towards ignorance, and his love for definitions
the second. The more he analyses, the more he has need to define, and the more he
defines, the more he aims at an impossible logical perfection, for the effect of aiming
at logical perfection is only a sign of ignorance.11

Although Lin Yutang was writing before the Second World War (the Fourth World
War), his ideas presaged much of the later criticism levelled at social science. In
 THINKING ABOUT THEORY 19

particular, he believed that the human mind was elusive, uncatchable and unpre-
dictable, and could not be reduced to mere mechanistic laws. He saw idealism and
realism as the two main forces of Mankind. To this simple but pithy formula, we
can add political ideology, perhaps the most potent hidden ingredient in interna-
tional relations theory. Certainly, the anti-communism of Strauss, von Hayek and
others was instrumental in motivating their classical realism, just as the critical
theory of the 'Frankfurt School' was influenced by Marxism.
Like any approach to international relations, the social science, also often known
as the behaviourist approach, has attracted plenty of criticism, not only from the
classical realists, but also from the 'English School'. This body of theorists, which
included the renowned Hedley Bull, with its emphasis on 'international society'
based on a classical approach, dismissed the behavioural approach of the 'American
School of scientific politics'.12
With the fall of the Berlin Wall, hard-nosed realism, or power-politics theory,
temporarily went backstage, but now seems to be re-emerging with a vengeance,
and with heavy political over- and under-tones, in the shape of the 'neo-cons' who,
despite the Obama victory, are still in the picture, while those who are not, are wait-
ing in the wings. The basic theory, which sees the world as anarchic, with the state
as the only safe reference point, has its modern origins in Leo Strauss, followed by
Reinhold Niebuhr and others. It is significant that Strauss taught Paul Wolfowitz,
one of the chief architects of the attack on Iraq.13 For all its intellectual bombast,
the Strauss school of thinking is not averse to some 'over-interpretation' and even
misrepresentation in its quest to show that state power-projection is the answer.
For example, Strauss writes that Machiavelli 'ostensibly seeks to bring about the
rebirth of the ancient Roman Republic', and that he was a restorer of 'something
old and forgotten'.14 This is intellectual chicanery, since although Machiavelli is
known to have admired the order of the Roman Empire, he was only trying to unite
Italy, not advocate international power politics and a new Roman (or Florentine)
conquest of Europe, the Middle East and North Africa. Poor Wolfowitz. Strauss,
like many other theorists, appears to be reinventing the wheel, albeit a warped one.
Although they have not used 'behavioural methodologies', they tend to put words
into the mouths (or, rather, the pens) of respected classical writers, such as Thu-
cydides, Machiavelli and Hobbes. Yet Thucydides was more of a recorder than an
interpreter of Athens' power politics, and as such not himself an advocate of force
per se. One could even argue that he bewailed the use of force in certain circum-
stances. This is clear from an unbiased reading of the Melian Dialogue. Hobbes,
particularly because of his book 'Leviathan', is also used by the realists to justify
their theories. Yet Hobbes is concerned more with the internal organization of the
state and in justifying his version of absolutism, than with indulging in power poli-
tics at the international level, to which he makes but scant reference.15
If the clash between realists and behaviouralists is not enough, the subject
of international relations has been much enriched by: structuralism, a perspec-
tive which lays more emphasis on total structure than individual states (thus, a
structuralist might see the Cyprus problem as a result of a post-colonial system);
20 CYPRUS

modernization theory, which argues that all states eventually pass through the
same stages (a modernization theorist might therefore say that Cyprus had passed
the colonial stage, but was still not completely its own master); dependency theory
(for some, a sub-division of structuralism), which challenges modernization theo-
ry's assumptions that all states pass through the same stages, by emphasizing the
exploiter-exploited relationship (a dependency theory advocate would see Cyprus
as an internationally exploited island); world systems analysis, which organizes the
world into core, semi-peripheral and peripheral states16 (a world systems analyst
would see Cyprus as peripheral in terms of the influence of its government); posi-
tivism, which seeks to explain by establishing patterns, and is, therefore, close to
behaviouralism (a positivist might seek to find instances of foreign interference in
Cyprus' affairs, and conclude that the Cyprus problem should be understood on
the basis of a series of foreign interventions); constructivism, which seeks to show
how ideas and preferences play a leading role in shaping the world (here, a con-
structivist might see Cyprus and its situation as the result of an artificially created
state, catering to a number of different stakeholders, including the Cypriots them-
selves); post-modernism, which questions the fundamental assumptions of most
international relations (and other) theory and is closely connected to critical theory
(a post-modernist might question the very make-up of the Cypriot state as an arti-
ficial, but selfish, socio-political construct); normative theory (see above), which, by
introducing a specifically moral and political content to the study of international
relations, threw the cat among the pigeons (a normative theorist would likely see
the Cyprus problem as the result of a lack of ethics in policy-formulation); plural-
ism, which says that the state is but one of many factors making up the whole,
and that the 'state-centrism' favoured by realists is misguided (a pluralist might
see Cyprus as the result of a compromise between different groups, both inter-
nally and externally); and functionalism, which stresses the role of international
co-operation as pre-eminent, thereby placing far more emphasis on the United
Nations than, for example, a realist (this is particularly relevant to Cyprus, whose
government lays great emphasis on international law and the United Nations). That
all the above have been flavoured with the main ideologies of conservatism, liber-
alism and socialism is also self-evident; and to further enrich the picture, we have
the 'English School' categorization into three 'traditions', the Hobbesian, which is
realist, and emphasizes that power is dominant in the clash of sovereign wills; the
Grotian, which seeks to inject effective international rules into an anarchic state
system; and the Kantian, which stresses the power of the individual. Certainly, one
can see Cyprus through all three 'traditions': the Hobbesian would say that Cyprus'
situation is the natural result of a clash of political and strategic forces; the Grotian
would say that its problems were due to the fact that international law had been
breached; and the Kantian might emphasize the role of individuals such as Arch-
bishop Makarios in shaping the island's destiny.
These approaches, naturally, have their variants and sub-variants, apart from
overlapping in differing measures with each other. At a recent heavyweight aca-
 THINKING ABOUT THEORY 21

demic seminar entitled 'Are Dialogue and Synthesis Possible in International Rela-
tions?', part of the conclusions read:

Historically, international relations as a discipline has come to view dialogue and

synthesis as incompatible objectives. [...] As a community of scholars, however, we
are equally compelled to compete, - an important reason why we prefer debate over
dialogue and pluralism over synthesis.17

Here we see international relations described as a discipline, while others, such as

Berridge, insist that it is a subject that uses disciplines. Although some books do
clarify to some extent the plethora of definitions and approaches, contradictions
can still be found between those very books. Paradoxically, it is a recent good book
on foreign policy that succeeds in clarifying some international relations theory en
passant, almost by default.18
Nonetheless, some other experts write that 'changes in the real world [as opposed
to the theoretical one?] and new rankings of our values and priorities [normative
and constructivist influence?] will always produce competing sets of theories about
International Relations'.19 Interestingly, the same is true in the attempt to elevate
public relations from being a business and government activity to a serious aca-
demic discipline.20 An increasing number of practitioners prefer the term 'commu-
nication' to that of 'public relations', one reason being that communications theory
is reasonably well developed, falling broadly into five categories, all of which have
something to offer, and which could well be synthesized one day: mechanistic,
pragmatic, psychological, interactionist and dramatist. It is not beyond the bounds
of possibility that someone will try to equate the term 'international relations' to
'international communications', or that the subject of international relations could
catapult itself out of rational debate. This is because even a minimalist definition of
international relations, such as 'relations between states' is not sufficiently precise
for many, although its main component is diplomacy, or the conducting of relations
between states, and the foreign policies of those states.
The fundamental problem may not be so much competing ideological 'world-
views', but rather the sloppiness of terminology and categorization, particularly in
distinguishing the difference between 'schools', 'theories', 'paradigms', 'perspec-
tives', 'approaches' and simple 'ideas'. Let us look briefly at how some respected
academics have tried to simplify matters.
Geoffrey Berridge (who equates international politics with international rela-
tions and insists that it is a subject rather than a discipline), writes that there are
three contending approaches to the field: realism, pluralism and structuralism.21
The Penguin Dictionary of International Relations states that with the end of the
Cold War there are four competing paradigms: neorealism, neoliberalism, critical-
theory and postmodernism.22 Stephen Walt writes of three traditions: realism, liber-
alism and radicalism, but then produces a diagram entitled 'Competing paradigms',
in which he again lists realism and liberalism, adding constructivism.23 Is the reader
of these works meant to assume that a paradigm is a tradition, and that radicalism
22 CYPRUS

is constructivism? Alan Sked offers a clear explanation from a historian's stand-

point, referring to three schools: the realist, behavioural and structuralist, but then
refers to them as paradigms, nevertheless sensibly stating that they all overlap and
that it is not therefore easy to choose any particular one, especially since in order
to choose, one needs to be acquainted with a host of disciplines such as history,
politics, sociology, economics, law, psychology, anthropology and philosophy, 'to
name but a few'.24
To further enrich (and complicate) thefield(s)of international relations theory,
modern theorizing about international relations has moved from the emphasis
placed on biology by social Darwinism to (following the Fourth World War) phys-
ics, and now, apparently, back to biology.25 Fukuyama, perhaps realizing that the
'end of history' is, after all, a superficial and jejune idea, is now apparently arguing
that 'masculine values', 'rooted in biology', should play a central role. He writes that
'female chimps have relationships, while male chimps practice Realpolitik\ and that
because (he claims) the line from chimp to modern man is continuous, this has
significant consequences for international politics,26 particularly since the penitent
Fukuyama is now treading dangerously close to some of the ideas of Adolf Hitler's
'Mein KampP. He thus introduces international relations theory to the realm of the
farcical. Perhaps he sees himself as the missing link.

Thinking about Theory

The connection between international relations theory and science, whether politi-
cally contrived or natural, has been developed mainly in America, a reflection per-
haps of the generally materialistic way of life in the US. It can be reasonably said
that 'crude scientism' is a characteristic of modern international relations theory,
and that the only sensible way out of the labyrinth is to 'offer empirical, philosophi-
cal, and political arguments against scientific imperialism'.27 For this author, how-
ever, 'geohistory' provides the intelligent ingredients for the most solid approach.
We can see that since its post-war idealistic beginnings in 1919 at the University
of Aberystwyth (four years before public relations was introduced at New York
University), the study of international relations is no longer what it was. We are
bound to ask to what extent events influence international relations theory and
vice-versa. If one accepts Fulbright's contention about the 'military-industrial-aca-
demic complex',28 then there is certainly a case for saying that theory, especially
realism, influences relations between states, since some of the chief promoters of
power politics are realists, as we shall see. Conversely, however, events can influ-
ence theory, in that they provide explanation, or more often justification, for
theories. For example, the fall of the Berlin Wall gave a temporary fillip to some
post-modernist thinking and a temporary hope that realist thinking would modify
in some way. Similarly, the attack of 11th September 2001 revived the realist school,
in the shape of people such as Condoleezza Rice and Paul Wolfowitz. A third pos-
sibility is that both the theory and practice of international relations are inextricably
interwoven, existing in a Steppenwolfish love-hate relationship, feeding each other
through think tanks, international conferences and lumpenanalysts.
 THINKING ABOUT THEORY 23

This gives rise to another question: can individuals alone create events, what-
ever the prevailing climate, or are they merely products of that climate? In this
connexion, as we now turn slowly but surely towards the Cyprus conundrum, let
us consider the case of the Permanent Under Secretary of the Foreign Office, Sir
Ivone Kirkpatrick, when he wrote in 1955:

I have always been attracted by the idea of a 3 Power Conference, simply because I
believe that it would seriously embarrass the Greek Government. And if such a con-
ference were held, I should not produce any British plan or proposal until a Greek-
Turkish deadlock has been defined. [ ...] And I repeat: [...] until a Greek-Turkish
difference has been exposed.29

The question arises that had Kirkpatrick not supported a 'divide and rule' policy,
but had tried to placate Turkey by guaranteeing Turkish Cypriot security, promoted
Greek-Turkish relations and then advocated the cession of Cyprus to Greece, as
other diplomats had, then the Cyprus conundrum might not exist today. Crete,
for example, had been incorporated into Greece without any serious difficulties.30
We are, of course, dealing here with hypotheses, and an absolute answer cannot be
given. Yet the question remains valid, as valid as the extent to which theory influ-
ences individuals in positions of responsibility. Had Strauss not taught Wolfowitz,
would the latter have behaved as he did?
Connected to the question of individuals' ability to 'shape history', a new idea
has been thrust upon us, one that places the emphasis in international relations on
spirit, appetite and reason, therefore claiming, for example, that the First World
War (the Third World War) was caused in large part by the quest for 'standing and
honour', while the Cuban Missile Crisis' solution was influenced to a considerable
extent by Moscow wishing to be recognized as an equal superpower.31 This embry-
onic theory ignores, however, the harsh reality of economic and strategic interests
of large powers, that lie behind human behaviour. It is merely addressing some-
thing rather obvious, namely the propensity among some leaders and elite groups
towards national pride, which comes into play when perceived interests clash. One
of the numerous examples is the nationalistic rhetoric of Margaret Thatcher that
accompanied Britain's budget battle with the European Community in the eighties.
Another question that arises is the extent to which learning teaches understand-
ing, since if you are simply trying mechanically to gain knowledge in order to apply
it, you may not have time to properly reflect on the knowledge before acting. In
other words, in order to think properly, one actually needs time not to think, for
ideas to come naturally. In looking at Cyprus' diplomatic history, we shall adopt a
pragmatic and classical historical approach, which will at the same time bring vari-
ous theories - but let us name them approaches - into sharper relief. In short, we
shall look through a classical prism of history.
However puerile and sententious it might at first sound to some international
relations theorists, the contention that only history exists might have more valid-
ity than first meets the eye: the 'present', after all, transmogrifies into the past
24 CYPRUS

as it occurs, while the future exists only in the mind. Certainly, the study of the
past is the only essential way of handling what we think of the future, and of try-
ing to (ugly phrase!) 'manage the future' to suit our own interests. History even
teaches us how to repeat our mistakes. The better one understands how and why
events occurred — usually by juxtaposing older and newer events, and establishing
connexions between them- then the less difficult it is to make decisions. Many
maintain that history repeats itself; but it would be more accurate to maintain that
historians repeat themselves, while precise replication of events is impossible, since
the only constant of history is a never-ending continuum. The conundrum is, how-
ever, capable of solution if one accepts that history simply shows us that the same
basic human characteristics, whether individual, corporate, racial, nationalistic,
institutional or diplomatic, tend to remain remarkably constant, modifications not-
withstanding, even if they often remain submerged before reasserting themselves.
Negotiating the labyrinth of history becomes uncannily like studying 'future his-
tory' (a near oxymoron!), even though it does not exist. Let us repeat that one of
the earliest known diplomats and historians of the Renaissance, Guiccardini, wrote
that the world has always been the same, that the past illuminates the future and
that the same things return with different colours.32 Long before Machiavelli, Hob-
bes and Thucycides (whether or not they were international relations realists) were
writing, well before even Plato was, Heracletus had already written that 'strife is
justice'. However, he also wrote that 'everything flows'. Cyprus is hardly an excep-
tion to such tenets, whether those of Heracletus, Guiccardini or the Platonist Vico,
having been invaded several times and squabbled over by larger competing powers
for centuries, the same international tendencies continuing as before, with Cyprus
as an object, hostage and victim of the atavistic power-politics of large powers bit-
ing their fingernails of geostrategic ambition; an object, however, not only of the
practice of international relations, but perhaps also of the theory.

Conclusions
We have briefly described the main international relations perspectives and theo-
ries, relating them to Cyprus, and then looked at them critically, noting that there
is no single international relations theory. All the theories are useful in that they
provide analysts with a starting point from which to explain the Cyprus problem,
or to advocate action. One can see that no single international relations theory is
sufficient to understand Cyprus' international position, and that there is consider-
able overlap between theories. For example, one could say that Cyprus is an object
of power politics and of dependency theory, with a bit of constructivism thrown in
for good measure. As we have argued, however, the geohistorical approach is the
most detached and simple way of understanding Cyprus, and therefore of finding
answers to its problems, taking into account the various theories, but only when
they clarify thinking within the geohistorical context. In this connexion, let us
again stress that geopolitics is, as we have stated using an expert's words, simply a
primitive form of IR theory. As such, it has developed into a kind of Big Brother,
overseeing more subtle and refined theories, but promoting the worst excesses of
 THINKING ABOUT THEORY 25

crude political realism/power politics. This is particularly relevant to Cyprus, as we

shall see throughout the book. Before we move more specifically into Cyprus' and
Greece's history, criticize geopolitics, and relate Cyprus' history to other theories,
let us conclude by pointing out that any historical analysis of the Cyprus problem
is limited by several factors. First, key documents have not been released by the
Foreign and Commonwealth Office, despite the Thirty Years Rule, sometimes on
the grounds that to do so would damage relations between Britain on the one hand,
and the USA and Cyprus on the other (see Appendix); second, the United States
government withheld between 1999 and 2002 distribution of its already printed
Foreign Relations of the United States, Greece, 1964 to 1968?2* then releasing a carefully
re-edited and partially truncated version; third, the Greek government refuses to
release crucial documentation, even as far back as 1955, on the Cyprus question
(see Appendix); fourth, Soviet primary source material has not been consulted, and
neither has Ottoman and Turkish. Thus, one can claim but a good attempt at objec-
tivity, an attempt strengthened, however, by the fact that the British documents
are crucial, since Britain was, and still is, in a backstage fashion, one of the key
stakeholders in Cyprus. While some of the documents are revealing and frank, it is
important to recognize that they can be constrained by the 'in-house professional
consciousness' of the writers. Before bringing the Cyprus affair up to date in terms
of verifiable diplomatic history, let us set the geopolitical scene for Cyprus and its
region, the Eastern Mediterranean.
GREECE, CYPRUS AND THE POLITICS
OF GEOGRAPHY

Geographical heterogeneity becomes geopolitical homogeneity.

Gearoid O'Tuthail1

Introduction
Just as Rudyard Kipling asked how one could know England, if one only knew
England, it is difficult to view the Cyprus conundrum in isolation, especially since
the increasing internationalisation of the issue has placed it firmly - with its lin-
guistic and cultural cousin, Greece, and to a lesser extent, Turkey — in the cold
calculations of the strategic armchair warriors of nineteenth century imperialism,
the Cold War and the current era. Before applying the concept2 of geopolitics to
Greece, Cyprus and the Eastern Mediterranean, we need to scrutinize it.
The Concise Oxford Dictionary defines geopolitics succinctly as 'the politics of a
country as determined by its geographical features; the study of this'.3 Another
book describes it as a method of foreign policy analysis which seeks to understand,
explain and predict international behaviour primarily in terms of geographical vari-
ables, such as location, size, climate, topography, demography, natural resources as
well as of technological development and potential.4 According to one respected
international relations expert, 'we may recognise geopolitics as a primitive form
of international relations theory',5 while another sees it as a concept.6 Thus, we
already have the terms 'politics of a country', 'method of foreign policy analysis', 'a
(primitive) form of international relations theory, and 'concept', to define the word
'geopolitics'. The latter is probably the least polemical term to use, although all can
be accurate, since they depend on the Weltanschauung of their respective describ-
ers. To understand the content of geopolitical thinking, one needs to consider the
'invention' of the term. Although Rudolf Kjellen, who linked the Rhine, Danube
and Vistula rivers to the fate of Central Europe, is suggested to have been one of
the first to use the term,7 Halford Mackinder, not known to have actually used it, is
considered to have been the most influential early exponent of modern geopolitics.
He was obsessed with German power and the possibility of a German alliance with
28 CYPRUS

Russia, which controlled, indeed constituted, much of Mackinder's 'pivot' area of

the 'world island' of Europe. He was concerned with the general physical control
of the world. In advocating his ideas, he referred to the importance of teaching
the British masses, who were 'of limited intelligence', to think imperially.8 Here,
there were shades of Rudyard Kipling's ideas of race in his reference to the 'white
man's burden', that burden being the task of bringing order and superior British
civilisation to unruly blacks, browns and yellows. In a not dissimilar vein, President
Theodore Roosevelt attempted to justify US intervention in the affairs of other
states if they manifested 'chronic wrongdoing' (shades of today). He was influenced
by Alfred Mahan, to the extent of building up US sea power.
Conversely, Mackinder stressed the importance of land power. Although at the
time his ideas on 'land control' were not followed, they attracted the Germans,
in particular Karl Haushofer, who used the term 'Geopolitik'. Haushofer is held
to have been responsible for inspiring Hitler in his idea of 'Lebensraum'.9 He was
attracted by Mackinder's ideas about white superiority and the connexion of poli-
tics with the soil. Although he partially bewailed the way in which his ideas had
been taken over by Nazi ideology (committing suicide with his wife in 1946), it is
hardly surprising that they were lapped up so avidly by the Nazis and fitted into
their thinking. Sentences such as 'Germany must emerge out of the narrowness of
the present living space into the freedom of the world'10 were certainly inspiring
to some.
Thus, it is hardly surprising that modern geopolitics has its origins in both impe-
rial and totalitarian ideology. Nor can one avoid the racial background which forms
part of the picture. In the case of Mackinder, who influenced Haushofer, there
were Darwinian undertones about whites being superior, which of course found
more extreme expression in Nazism. It was, however, not only certain Germans
who stressed racial superiority, but also imperially-minded Englishmen. Sir Francis
Younghusband, the leader of the British invasion of Tibet in 1904, wrote: 'Our
superiority over them [Indians] is not due to mere sharpness of intellect, but to the
higher moral nature to which we have attained in the development of the human
race',11 while Sir Charles Dilke (in 1869) saw America as the agent of Anglo-Saxon
domination and predicted a great racial conflict from which 'Saxondom would rise
triumphant', with China, Japan, Africa and South America soon falling to the all-
conquering Anglo-Saxon, and Italy, Spain, France and Russia 'becoming pygmies
by the side of such people'.12 This politician, a liberal into the bargain, wrote that
the power of English laws and English principles of government were essential
to the freedom of mankind. Thus, we see here both some of the origins of the
US-British 'special relationship', and a superior attitude leading to what we today
describe as 'racism'. The reason that we digress briefly into the superiority complex
inherent in many in Victorian England is to make the point that Cyprus was rented
from the Ottomans by Britain at the very height of Britain's imperial power, when
superior attitudes abounded, attitudes which have not entirely disappeared, par-
ticularly if we consider some of the statements by British and American politicians
 GREECE, CYPRUS AND THE POLITICS OF GEOGRAPHY 29

about the export of Western values. It also connects well to the origins of modern
geopolitics.
Those readers of this book who were privileged enough to attend British 'Prep'
and 'Public' schools up to at least the '70s and '80s respectively, may well remember
not only rather simplistic 'imperial' history books, such as 'Little Arthur's His-
tory of England' and 'Our Island Story', but fellow schoolboys using terms such
as 'Philistine', 'Arab' and 'Jew' in a derogatory fashion, along with such terms as
'Dago', 'Wog', 'Hun', 'Frog' and 'slit-eye'. Today it is the Arab races who are often
demonized by 'Westerners', using such ploys as President Bush referring to 'a new
Crusade'. Certainly, caricaturing Arabs and Muslims has taken over from that of
Jews. Yet it must be remembered, in the context of our look at the origins of the
term 'geopolitics' and its connexion to Nazism, with its anti-Jewish aspects, that
Germans were not alone in their vilifying tactics. In France, there was the 'Croix
de Feu'; in Britain (perhaps 'England' is more germane), Oswald Mosley's Black-
shirts were particularly vituperative, while Winston Churchill, future bewailer of
the apparent setting of the sun on the British Empire, wrote in 1920 about the
'schemes of the International Jew', referring to 'a sinister confederacy' and calling
them 'a world-wide conspiracy for the overthrow of civilisation and for the recon-
stitution of society'.13 As regards the US, Henry Ford's book The International]ew, is
too well known to require further elaboration and we do not wish to digress.
Whatever the polemics about race and empire, it is clear that a geopolitical
approach was being promoted by major powers up to the Second (Fourth) World
War, and used to justify their policies, albeit in different ways. It can be argued
that the modern 'geopolitical mindset' grew out of the rivalry between Britain and
Germany, which began to manifest itself at the height of British and later German
imperialism and led to the Great War. Although this rivalry was - at the very least
- an important underlying cause of the war, it is not easy to prove that 'geopoliti-
cal mindsets' were also an important cause. The debate would centre on whether
geopolitics was the chicken and economic rivalry the egg, or vice versa. It is how-
ever reasonable to assume that war and geopolitics are closely interwoven mentally,
since Mahon's, Mackinder's and Haushofer's policies clearly had a great impact, and
since the realization of their thinking entailed the use of force.
It is important at this state to again state that geopolitical thinking is far older
than the term. Even only a cursory knowledge of the Trojan War demonstrates this,
a war fought not only for honour but also for the Dardanelles. Often, past wars
have connexions to modern wars: for example, the Crimean War was also fought
mainly over control of the Dardanelles. The British stepped in (with France and
Sardinia14) to prevent Russia from occupying Constantinople and from strengthen-
ing her naval presence in the Mediterranean.
In other words, the 'geographical position' of a territory, along with size,
technological development, topography and demography have always been vital
considerations in many a war. The position of Corinth, for example, was crucial
in the Peloponnesian War, just as, today, the British and US governments have
claimed, and still claim, that Cyprus is crucial to their Middle East strategy. The
30 CYPRUS

term 'geopolitics' is simply, like so many other terms, an explanation, or justifica-

tion, of power politics. Cyprus, being at the epicentre of a whole Middle Eastern
and meta-Cold War geopolitical merry-go-round, is a microcosm of a great deal of
macho-diplomatic posturing and of international relations theory.

The 'New' Geopolitics

Curiously, the term 'geopolitics' was not killed off by the horrors of the Second
(Fourth) World War, but slithered on, helped by phrases such as 'Iron Curtain'
(popularized by Winston Churchill), and 'domino theory', with their connotations
of territory. Although the British tried to emphasize the term 'political geography',
'geopolitics' simmered on. It was the 'arch-priest of the rational use of power',15
Henry Kissinger who, perhaps paradoxically for a German Jew who had emigrated
to America in 1938, as many other future academics and government leaders did,
'almost single-handedly helped to revive the term 'geopolitics' in the 1970's, by
using it as a synonym for balance-of-power politics'.16 Immediate post-war political
realists such as N.J. Spykman17 had a head start on Kissinger, but the latter con-
tinued the 'new' tradition. The concept of 'geopolitics' and the theory of political
realism/power politics are inextricably intertwined, since the more emphasis one
lays on the use and projection of power in theorizing about or practising interna-
tional relations, the more attractive becomes the term to those who wish to use
force. Power projection is indeed a thinly disguised euphemism for force.
With its colonial and imperialist beginnings, the term 'geopolitics' has weath-
ered the storms of Nazism, and is now often used synonymously with 'geostrategy'
(although a purist would argue that geostrategy is a subset of geopolitics). Thus,
politicians and/or 'think-tankers' often speak of 'geopolitical considerations' and
'geostrategic considerations' as if they were one and the same. The next logical
extension is of course the term 'geomilitary' which, although possibly being used
here for the first time, would likely appeal to the more rumbustious kind of political
realist, whatever his putative denials of resuscitating imperialist policies. Thus, it
could be argued that Turkey's invasion of Cyprus in 1974, supported by the arch-
geopolitician and power-politician Henry Kissinger, was geomilitary in nature.
With such a 'primitive form of international relations theory'18 as geopolitics, it is
hardly surprising that simplistic earth-labelling bromic sloganizing and the current
hegemonic infatuation in certain quarters with the idea of 'The West' taming 'The
Rest' go hand in hand. This 'world management' syndrome can be dangerous in
the wrong hands, as we have seen in the past. Simplistic terms such as, 'road map',
'rogue-state', 'sharing core values', 'international community', 'geostrategic' and the
like tend to lend respectability to what can be seen as a semantic smokescreen for
aggression and unilateralism. Kissinger, political realist and geopolitician, known
for having said that the Cyprus problem was solved in 1974 (by the Turkish inva-
sion), had already written in 1957 of Cyprus as a 'staging post' for the Middle East.19
Let us now turn to the history of the area around Greece and Cyprus, and how it
has been characterized by 'geoconsiderations'.
 GREECE, CYPRUS AND THE POLITICS OF GEOGRAPHY 31

Meta-Imperial Hub of the Eastern Mediterranean

Cyprus is the only country of the European Union which does not have complete
sovereign control of its own foreign policy, as the 1960 treaties establishing the
republic illustrate. This is a clear example of what Guiccardini meant when he said
that the same things return with different colours. Here we are talking about con-
trol by outside powers. The answer to understanding why can be found in a classi-
cal historical approach, the main theme of which is today's British obsession with
Russian power, which still lurks under the surface. Long before British preoccupa-
tion with Russia, Cyprus had already been a treasured location for powers including
Rome, Constantinople, the Franco-English (Richard Coeur de Lion, briefly), the
Franks, Venice and Ottoman Constantinople. Although the early Russians were
hostile towards the Eastern Roman (Byzantine) Empire, by the end of the tenth
century they had been conclusively converted to Christianity and were allies of
Constantinople. After the Great Schism of 1054,20 the Russian and Greek-speaking
worlds began to develop a common interest in combating the power of Islam. The
spread of the Ottoman Empire into the Caucasus, following the fall of Constanti-
nople to the Ottomans in 1453 (the Chechen problem is part of that heritage), came
before Russia had fully developed its military potential; but when it did, the push
southwards, often under a Christian Orthodox, as much as a territorial (strategic)
banner, began. From at least the times of Ivan the Terrible, the Caucasus and then
the Balkans were to varying degrees areas of Ottoman Moslem and Russian Chris-
tian conflict. The old Byzantine alliance with early Russia manifested itself in its
most overt form under Catherine the Great, when she sent an expedition to free
Greece, in 1769-70. Although the expedition failed to retake the Greek mainland,
some Greek islands were taken into Russian possession.
Most important, however, was the Treaty of Kiiciik Kainardji of 1774, through
which Russia gained the right to protect Orthodox Christians in the Ottoman
Empire and, worryingly for future British imperial strategy, rights of navigation in
Ottoman-controlled waters. A few years later, a commercial treaty enabled Greek-
owned ships to sail under the Russian flag, thus ensuring the development of the
Greek commercial fleet free from Ottoman interference, well before Greece gained
its freedom.

The British Connexion

Although Britain's main concern at the time was with the containment of French
revolutionary power, in 1791 William Pitt the Younger denounced Russia for its
supposed ambition to dismember Turkey:21 Catherine the Great had indeed wished
to make her grandson the emperor of a new Byzantine empire. By now, Britain was
moving into its imperial heyday and therefore beginning to behave 'geostrategically'.
Thus, by the turn of the century, but particularly after the Congress of Vienna,
Russia was fast becoming Britain's main bugbear (notwithstanding the hackneyed
theme of'Splendid Isolation'). Whatever latent rivalry existed with France, as it still
32 CYPRUS

does today, it was potential Russian influence in the Mediterranean and rising Prus-
sian - and later German - power that helped Britain to move closer to the French.
Here we can already see the seeds of Mackinder's obsession with the Russian-Ger-
man alliance, which he believed would threaten the British Empire. Britain's con-
comitant support for the Ottoman Empire can be traced to this period: it explains
Britain's equivocal attitude towards Greek independence. Britain's essential aim
was to ensure that Russian influence in a putatively independent Greece would
not threaten her Mediterranean interests. Britain feared a Russian-Turkish war in
which Russia would strengthen its position yet more vis-a-vis the Ottomans, as
it had already done, for example, with the treaty of Kiiciik Kainardji. The British
government therefore decided that the best hope of extending some control over
Russia in the event of a Russian-Turkish war was an agreement. This materialized
in the form of an Anglo-Russian Protocol of 4th April 1826, whereby Britain would
offer mediation with the object of making Greece an autonomous vassal-state of
the Ottoman Empire.22 Significantly, however, if this could not be achieved, then
the two powers could intervene jointly or separately. This seeming detail was to
prove crucial to Greek independence, since Russia did indeed increase its pressure
on the Ottomans, and pushed reluctant France and Britain to take more active
measures in favour of the Greeks. In September 1827, Russian pressure forced
Britain and France to agree to sever seaborne supplies to the Ottoman forces in
the Peloponnese and several Greek islands. The Battle of Navarino took place the
following month, when the Turko-Egyptian fleet was destroyed, thus opening the
way to Greek independence. Whatever the controversy surrounding the opening
of hostilities (the British-French-Russian fleet was intended to be neutral), Britain's
policy of containing Russia proved unsuccessful, at least in the Greek context. It is
also known, however, that Admiral Codrington, the senior commander of the joint
fleet, was a Philhellene. When news of the Ottoman defeat reached London, the
Foreign Secretary, Wellington, called it an 'untoward event', while pro-Ottoman
Metternich described it as a 'dreadful catastrophe'.23 Perhaps far more than Britain
at the time, Metternich was an exponent of realism and geostrategy par excellence^
and did not mince his words: of the Greeks, he had said that 'over there, beyond
our frontiers, three or four hundred thousand individuals hanged, impaled or with
their throats cut, hardly count'.24 He had also spoken of the Neapolitans as a 'half-
African and barbarian people'.25 It is hardly surprising that he wished to elimi-
nate the influence of Capodistrias, a Foreign Minister of Russia, and a Greek (who
became Greece's first president). Capodistrias, with his pro-Greek independence
views, and his being seen as the leader of the pro-Russian faction in Greek politics,
remained a thorn in the side of British imperial plans well after his assassination
in 1831. One could argue that the British still fear latent 'Capodistrianism' today.

The Russian Obsession

Britain's preoccupation with Russia can be directly connected to now, even if, in
Guiccardini's words, 'the colours are different'. Britain's increasing concern about
Russian power is best epitomised in Sir Edmund Lyons' infamous statement in
 GREECE, CYPRUS AND THE POLITICS OF GEOGRAPHY 33

1841: A truly independent Greece is an absurdity. Greece can either be English or

Russian, and since she must not be Russian, it is necessary that she be English.'26 A
parallel can be drawn here between Lyons and Winston Churchill, given that the
latter agreed with Stalin, in the infamous postage stamp agreement, that Greece
would be '10 per cent Russian and 90 per cent English'.27 Here we see the atavistic
continuation of British imperial 'geostrategy' which, as we shall see throughout this
book, continues to this day vis-a-vis Greece and Cyprus, despite new euphemisms
and semantic diversions.
Britain had still to extend its empire further, particularly in Africa, but it had
already possessed28 the Ionian Islands since 1815. The year of 'European revo-
lution' of 1848 (when Metternich went into exile in London) saw the upsurge of
further Greek independence movements, not only in Ottoman-controlled parts of
the Greek-speaking world, but in the Ionian Islands. Rather than respond favour-
ably, Britain raised claims to two islets off the Peloponnesian coast, claiming that
they were also 'Ionian' (which in fact they were!). By far the worst case of imperial
heavy-handedness, however, was the notorious Don Pacifico affair of 1850. Don
Pacifico was a Gibraltarian Jew whose Athens house had been damaged during
rumbustious Easter demonstrations. To try and enforce compensation, the British
blockaded Piraeus, accepting, but then refusing, French offers to mediate. King
Otto finally yielded, but only a paltry sum was ever paid in compensation.29 Sub-
sequently, anti-British and pro-Russian sentiment increased, to the consternation
of the British.
Matters began to come to a head when the Tsar brokered a reunion between
the Church in Greece and the Patriarch in Constantinople (relations had broken
off in 1821 owing to Greek suspicions that the Sultan was using the Patriarchate
as a political tool). Ottoman weakness (two wars with the Egyptian vassal Mehmet
Ali) and Russian pressure on the Ottomans vis-a-vis Christian Orthodox subjects
of the Ottoman Empire led to the outbreak of the Crimean War, pitting the Brit-
ish, French and Sardinians30 against Russia. When 'irregular' Greek forces tried to
wrest Thessaly from Ottoman occupation, the British and French occupied Piraeus
(May 1854 to February 1857), essentially to prevent Greece from helping Russia.

Cyprus - Key of Western Asia

In 1877 and 1878, fear of Russia came into its own. The conclusion of the Crimean
War, fought to preserve British hegemony in the Eastern Mediterranean by com-
batting Russia's attempts to weaken the Ottoman Empire,31 only checked the appli-
cation of Russian designs temporarily. Defeating the Ottomans in 1877, Russian
forces approached Constantinople. The terms of the resulting Treaty of San Ste-
fano were so advantageous to Russia, including, for example, the establishment of
a large and independent pro-Russian Bulgaria, that the British intervened diplo-
matically, with words and gunboats, actions which led to the 'Great Eastern Crisis'
and Congress of Berlin in 1878. On 5th May, Benjamin Disraeli wrote to Queen
Victoria:
34 CYPRUS

If Cyprus can be conceded to your Majesty by the Porte, and England at the same
time enters into defensive alliance with Turkey, guaranteeing Asiatic Turkey from
Russian invasion, the power of England in the Mediterranean will be absolutely
increased in that region and your Majesty's Indian Empire immensely strengthened.
Cyprus is the key of Western Asia.32

Although the purpose of the Congress was to re-establish stability in the Balkans in
the face of Russian power and a crumbling Ottoman Empire, Britain realised that
this empire was no longer a 'genuine reliable power',33 and that she would need to
combat not only Russia, but also to watch over Anatolia. Britain therefore leased
Cyprus from the Ottomans as a place darmes, to guarantee Asiatic Turkey against
Russian attack. The main objectives were to check the Russians and to 'prop up
some sort of Turkish state in Asia Minor' - much the arrangement which still
existed in the middle part of the twentieth century34 and today, at least in financial
(IMF) and (US-sponsored) military terms. As we have already noted, little has
altered in over one hundred years as regards Cyprus. The same British desperation
to keep Russia at bay, once alone, and now with the US, is still there, as many of the
papers we shall examine will show.
The manner in which Britain gained this new foothold in the Mediterranean was
not without controversy, since Britain had negotiated secretly with the Ottomans,
delivering an ultimatum to the Sultan to the effect that to retain Britain's goodwill,
Cyprus must pass into British control. In France, there was alarm and resentment
that Ha perfide Albion''had not acted straightforwardly.35 France had, of course, its
own designs on Cyprus, as had even the German Confederation in 1849. At any
event, although the French were furious, they were pacified by British assurances
that they would turn a blind eye when France occupied Ottoman Tunisia in 1882.
Nevertheless, this did not prevent French pressure on the British vis-a-vis
Cyprus, resulting in an agreement that Britain would not give up Cyprus (annexed
in 1914 when the Ottoman Empire joined the Central Powers) without first consult-
ing France.36
Only six months later, in December 1916, Britain and France, worried at the
neutral stance of King Constantine and the political instability engendered by Ven-
izelos' government in Thessaloniki, landed a small force, which marched on Ath-
ens. Beaten back by the Greek army, and with seventy-one casualties, they declared
a blockade of Greece and recognised Venizelos' government. The King departed
from Greece, leaving his second son Alexander as 'temporary King'. The political
farrago led to Venizelos joining the allies in July 1917.37 This episode again demon-
strates what can be considered intrusive and imperious behaviour towards Greece,
although it needs to be borne in mind that the country was still a protectorate, and
was to remain one, de jure, until 1923.
As regards Cyprus, Britain had discussed ceding it to Greece at the end of 1912,
in return for a naval base on Cephalonia.38 In 1915, Britain offered to cede the
island, if Greece joined her in the war,39 but as Greece prevaricated until 1917, Brit-
ain did not grant Greece's request, at the Versailles negotiations, to cede the island.
 GREECE, CYPRUS AND THE POLITICS OF GEOGRAPHY 35

The story of the demographic tragedy that befell Greece is well known and has
been well covered: suffice it to say here that from an apparent position of strength
and as a member of the winning club, gaining one victory after another in the
newly emerging Turkey, the Greek armed forces went 'a bridge too far', and were
pushed back. Nearly every Greek-speaking Orthodox Christian in Asia Minor was
expelled (1,300,000) or killed in what is known today as the 'catastrophe'.40 What
had begun as a Greek campaign supported by the British, French and American
governments ended up in a socio-economic disaster and a smug but hostile Italy,41
which remained in possession of the Dodecanese, which it had taken from the
Ottomans by force in 1912. The 235,200 Greek population42 of Constantinople was
spared, since the city was under international jurisdiction and protection. Today,
Turkish policy and the Cyprus problem has resulted in a rump of some 2,000 Turk-
ish citizens of Greek decent remaining in Constantinople, contrasting with the
over 120,000 Turkish-speaking Moslems in Greek Thrace.
Notwithstanding the secret double-dealings of the period, Britain decided to
hang on to Cyprus. The Treaty of Lausanne stipulated that Turkey would have no
rights in territories under her former jurisdiction, meaning that, from 1923, she had
no right to interfere in the island's affairs. In 1925, Cyprus was declared a colony
of the British Crown.
The novelty of British control had by now begun to wear off, and the calls
for enosis (union) with Greece that had begun as early as 1821 (the beginning of
the Greek Revolution), reiterated in 187843 and 1907 (Churchill's visit),44 began to
gather pace, culminating in the burning down of Government House in 1931, fol-
lowing the arbitrary rejection by London of a vote against a five per cent levy on
officials' salaries of over £100 a year. Apart from the pent-up frustration among
Greek Cypriots, a Turkish Cypriot had voted against the tax with the twelve Greek
Cypriots, becoming known as the 'Thirteenth Greek'. The challenge to British
authority and the British government's fear of this incipient and potential Greek-
and Turkish-Cypriot common front led to the revocation of the colonial constitu-
tion and the severe curtailment of civil liberties. Thereafter, owing largely to the
Greek Prime Minister, Venizelos', keenness on maintaining good relations with
Britain and Turkey, enosis went largely underground. Before looking in the follow-
ing chapter at the political geography of the Greek Civil War and how this affected
Greece and Cyprus, let us now make a tentative foray into the jungle and attempt to
view the story thus far through the prism of international relations theories. We are
not attempting to assess the reliability or otherwise of various theories, but rather
to provide thought at a basic level.

Theoretically Speaking...
Whether we are thinking about classical, neoclassical and strategic realism, or neo-
realism, and its various subdivisions (and it is not this book's intention to focus
on the analytical fine-tuning of these subdivisions or their variants), all focus
on the power of the state as the main factor in international relations. From this
perspective, the position of modern Greece and Cyprus is the result of an anarchic
36 CYPRUS

world where strong interested powers have bargained over both countries because
of their allegedly strategically important position, in relation both to the Darda-
nelles and to 'Western Asia' (as Disraeli put it).45 The justification behind this rather
unseemly bargaining is 'balance-of-power' politics, a sensible-sounding panacea
for realists concerned with maintaining stability in an anarchic world. Russia, Brit-
ain, the Ottoman Empire, Austro-Hungary and, to a lesser extent, France, have
been the main bargainers, with Italy jumping on to the bandwagon with gusto and
some braggadocio after 1912. Thus, the 1878 Congress of Berlin can be viewed as
a realist attempt by Britain to check Russian advances and perceived threats to its
naval control, in the name of the balance of power. To this end, after 1878, Brit-
ain wished to maintain the Ottoman Empire as a serious power, even after it had
become apparent that it was fast dying. Therefore, after 1923, Britain was always
keen, as she is today, to ensure that the remains of the Ottoman Empire (Turkey)
stayed powerful enough to be used against Russia and, if necessary, Greece. Greece
and Cyprus were, and still are, instruments of that policy. Hence the British need to
ensure that Turkey does not weaken militarily. This will become obvious through
the documents that we shall examine.
Looking now at Greece and Cyprus through a normative prism, we can witness
the subtle insertion of ethical and political issues into the question, issues such as
justice, injustice, war, peace, and interfering with sovereignty. Thus, while a realist
might explain and justify the several instances of interference with Greek sover-
eignty that we have seen by claiming that Russia had to be kept at bay, a normative
analyst might criticize the infringements of sovereignty that have occurred, and
consider whether those infringements could be justified. He would pay particular
attention to the human aspect and, therefore, to the individual decision-makers. He
would consider the rights and wrongs of the British colonial tenure of Cyprus, and
whether or not Cyprus should be allowed to be its own master. Unlike a realist, he
might sharply criticize British 'divide and rule' tactics on Cyprus, or the conduct
of specific individuals in the Colonial Office as measured against internationally
accepted norms. The chief problem here is that different people and systems have
different norms. For example, in Eastern Turkey, even today, a brother will kill a
sister if she has 'shamed the family' by 'going with another man' out of wedlock,
while this would clearly be considered barbaric in Greece. In the case of Greece
and Cyprus, then, the normative approach can be beset with complexities and con-
tradictions, given the differing customs, beliefs and traditions involved. In other
words, it is invalid in some circumstances.
A structuralist might consider Greece and Cyprus as necessary parts of the
overall structure of relations between states, aiming to explain events as a func-
tion of, for example, Greece's position in the international order (although some
would argue that it was more a case of disorder!) of treaties signed after 1878, such
as the Treaty of London and the Treaty of Lausanne. He might then argue that
the positions of Greece and Cyprus resulted from dependence on the interests
of larger powers. In doing so, he would be advocating — inadvertently or other-
wise — 'dependency theory', which is connected by some to — or is a sub-division
 GREECE, CYPRUS AND THE POLITICS OF GEOGRAPHY 37

of - structuralism. He would emphasise the 'exploiter-exploited' relationship, an

approach which finds its origins in the Frankfurt / Marxist School. Greece and
Cyprus constitute rich terrain for this approach, since, historically, various powers
have competed, and still are, for the upper hand in Greece, Cyprus and the Eastern
Mediterranean. Britain could be seen as having behaved hegemonistically. Here, Sir
Edmund Lyons' famous statement of 1841 and the Don Pacifico affair (see above)
come readily to mind. Similarly, the effort to maintain the Ottoman Empire and
support a rickety and inherently unstable Turkish polity in the name of balance-
of-power politics, maintaining the status quo by keeping Turkey powerful, is also
connected to this approach, since richer, more powerful countries are involving
themselves in the politics of lesser states for their perceived strategic advantages.
Connected to this is world systems analysis, with its division of the world into
core, semi-peripheral and peripheral states. Modern Greece could well be depicted
as having moved from peripheral to semi-peripheral status today.46 The limits to its
freedom of action would be seen as a factor of the degree of its 'peripherally' vis-
a-vis core states, while some would view Cyprus as a mere cog in the system, with
limited influence over its own destiny.
Unlike the idea of categorising states, pluralism considers the state to be but one
of several 'actors' that make up the whole: multi-national corporations, educational
bodies, the plethora of interest groups of various kinds, and international organiza-
tions, to name but some. Thus, the positions of Greece and Cyprus and, indeed, the
Eastern Mediterranean, could be considered as originating in a combination of the
power-politics of, for example, Russia, France, Britain and the US, United Nations
politics and the profit motives of groups of shareholders of major arms manufac-
turers, the latter justifying their actions by citing the need for positive balance or,
secretly, positive balance-sheets.
Departing from views of a world made up of states and other 'actors', in various
categories, whether vertically or horizontally organized, the constructivist approach
would point out that all the good and ill that Greece and Cyprus have experienced
is an expression of ideas, preferences and desires, as opposed to material, physical
factors. In this sense, 'mass attitudes and aspirations' have 'constructed' events. The
weakness of this approach, at least as regards Cyprus and, indeed, the colonial and
meta-colonial history of much of the Eastern Mediterranean, is that many of the
ideas, views, theories, and preferences which actually amount to policies, emanate
themselves from thinking based on material considerations of self-interest which,
of course, connects to state-centred realism. For example, the neo-conservative
agenda of the Bush administration, with its emotionally bombastic elements of
'born-again' Christian fundamentalism, linked to Zionism and Christian Zionism
(see later), influenced policy formulation.47 Paradoxically, then, we see how a con-
structivist approach can by default identify a neo-conservative approach.
Positivism, in contrast to identifying the ideas, preferences and desires by which
people shape international relations, lays the emphasis on establishing patterns,
and is therefore close to behaviouralism, often equated with the social science
approach. The approach does not analyse particular 'behaviours', but rather the
38 CYPRUS

dynamics between those 'behaviours', and, therefore, how one affects the others,
leading to a particular outcome. In the case of Greece and Cyprus, a positivist
would attempt to look at the behaviour of individuals and governments in say,
Greece, Cyprus, Turkey, the US, Britain, and Russia, and try and establish actions
and reactions during various crises. He would note that, in each crisis since 1960,
Britain had immediately consulted and joined the US, while the Soviet Union /
Russia had made various diplomatic threats, with Greece trying to co-ordinate a
common position with Cyprus, both of the latter then reacting to Turkish threats,
having themselves already approached Britain, the US, and Russia. Out of the var-
ious exchanges, the positivist would try and establish a consistent pattern. The
weakness of such an approach is that the data needed for such attempted analyses
and evaluations is often hidden in state secrecy, so that the positivist tends to be
restricted to media reports and academic papers, while the backstage remains out
of reach and in the realm of speculation. Another problem is immoral behaviour.
It is not easy for a positivist to incorporate lying into his carefully contrived equa-
tion, even more so if the lie is exposed after the publication of his study. The attack
of 2003 on Iraq is a telling example. Similarly, much of the evidence of Britain's
backstage collusion with Turkey in the 1950's, Sir Ivone Kirkpatrick's keenness to
expose (his perceived) differences between the Greeks and Turks, and the decision
by the US and UK not to prevent a Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1964, did not
emerge until the 1980's and 1990's. Consider how many erudite academic papers
must have been written on (unknown) false premises! Purely historical analyses do
not suffer from this problem, since they only deal with established facts.
Rather than trying to establish behavioural patterns, a modernization theorist
would set out to prove that Greece, Cyprus and Turkey are merely going through
stages, and that in, say, twenty and forty years respectively, they will have reached
the (current!) stage of the Netherlands, Luxembourg and Germany. They might
also suggest that it would then be possible for Greece and Turkey to resolve Turkish
claims to Greek territory in the same ways as France and Germany resolved their
dispute over Alsace and Lorraine. This theory is of course strenuously contested by
dependency theorists (see above), since they would argue that the advancement of
developing countries is hampered by the behaviour of 'core states'.
Critical theory, in contrast to much of the foregoing, tends to view some theories
as formed subjectively, and as representing the interests of particular groups. As
such, they view most theories as inherently political, and concentrate on liberating
theorists from their conceptual prisons, and on seeking alternative approaches.
A critical theorist will therefore see knowledge as contaminated by the political
self-interest - conscious or unconscious - of the learner. Critical theory could be
broadly described as the attempt to throw off the chains of conventional theories
by 'deconstructing' and looking for ways to reconstruct them. A critical theorist
might view the Cyprus conundrum as the result of competing theories, none of
which has improved matters, due essentially to the contention that every approach
is based on clashes of academic and political self-interest, rather than on the resolu-
tion of problems per se.
 GREECE, CYPRUS AND THE POLITICS OF GEOGRAPHY 39

The postmodern approach, while often equated with the critical one, is more
esoteric for some, in that it goes further, by questioning the very concept of knowl-
edge. A radical postmodernist will not merely attempt to deconstruct and then
rebuild in a new and 'free' fashion, but simply try to destroy the whole basis of
thinking lying behind theories. Such an approach can be healthy, in that it can
indeed expose humbug and the danger of pre-conceived notions and bias as they
affect international relations. The problem remains as to where to go from there
(assuming that one must). In other words, in exposing, usually by textual analysis,
theories attempting to promote unilateralism, one can be left with an empty feel-
ing, wondering how to be reborn as an enfant sauvage and start all over again. The
trouble there is that even the enfant sauvage would soon begin to meet other people
and form his or her own opinions, without yet knowing the delights of the post-
modern approach. As regards Cyprus, a radical postmodernist might say that eve-
rything that has happened to, and within, the island reflects false premises, robotic
thinking, hypocrisy, intellectual chicanery, sophistry and greed, and that to even
begin to approach the problem, one has to destroy all pre-conceived notions. It is
said that one of the first things that the Dadaists did at their exhibition in Berlin
was to destroy their own paintings. Can one then start functioning again, and if so,
how, and on what premise? Does one need a premise? Is not the need for a premise
itself a manacle?
Functionalism, the last approach with which we shall deal here, is more practi-
cal and comprehensible, and we have left it until last because the current govern-
ment of Cyprus has stressed the importance of a functional solution to the Cyprus
problem. It is a clever word to use, since, apart from the word's connotations of
a solution that is practical and workable, it is a theory that promotes the idea that
common needs can unite people across boundaries,48 while avoiding where pos-
sible the difficult issues of high politics. In seeking areas of common need and,
therefore, of common interest, it emphasizes international co-operation. In avoid-
ing difficult areas, however, such as restitution of property or claims on territory
(viz. Cyprus and Greece), one could argue that it actually allows difficult issues to
simmer and become more unsolvable. A counter-argument would be that finding
areas of common interest might create a favourable climate in which to approach
seemingly intractable problems. In the case of Greece and Cyprus, however, it can
be seen that finding areas of (apparently) common interest has not worked, at least
vis-a-vis Turkey: the much heralded 'earthquake diplomacy' of former Greek For-
eign Minister George Papandreou, Jr. (in which he even performed a Greek dance
for his Turkish homologue) and Greek support (even if only tactical) for Turkey's
entry into the European Union, has not resulted in a softening of Turkey's stance
on Cyprus or of its claims to Greek islets and continental shelf.49 Thus, although
a functional approach is a good idea, and can lead to the creation of bodies such
as the World Health Organization, when it boils down to bilateral relations, it can
have its limitations.
40 CYPRUS

Conclusions
However one looks at Cyprus (and its region), whether in terms of the theory or the
practice of international relations, it appears that a molehill has become a moun-
tain. Some would consider it to be a geopolitically poisoned pimple, and others a
rugby pitch where the game is played with too many referees from outside. A mod-
ernization theorist might see Cyprus at the same stage of sovereignty as Greece in
1850, equating the Ionian Islands with the British Sovereign Bases. A cynic could
say that Britain's elginistic50 attitude is born of a need to keep Cyprus to herself, like
a jealous lover, only sharing the spoils when she has to, for example with the US.
The 'theoretical prisms' through which we have glimpsed Cyprus and its region
are now considered part of international relations theory. Although most of them
provide some interesting approaches to thinking and, in some cases, taking action,
the very fact that they often compete with each other tends to detract from intel-
lectual cohesion, in that an agreed synthesis has so far proven elusive. On the other
hand, trying to understand them can aid precision and clarity at best, but further
confuse the issues, at worst.
Perspectives from other fields can help. For example, the interactionist perspec-
tive of communication, which promotes the idea that communication creates the
self, is not as odd as it might at first seem, especially if one quotes from Somerset
Maugham:

We can only guess at the thoughts and emotions of our neighbours. Each one of us
is a prisoner in a solitary tower and he communicates with the other prisoners, who
form Mankind, by conventional signs that have not quite the same meaning for them
as for himself.51

This might appeal to a follower of Umberto Eco, who could take Maugham's words
a stage further by saying that meanings of words are created by listeners, who
over the centuries develop and alter their interpretations. If we apply this idea to
Cyprus, we have to adopt an approach which considers particular individuals' roles
in the affairs of the island and its area, such as Catherine the Great, Disraeli, Met-
ternich, Kissinger and even Condoleezza Rice. This is where perhaps the most
telling, albeit cynical, observations can be made, using the dramatist perspective.52
Viewing life as a stage and our attempts to present ourselves - publicly - in as good
a light as possible, a dramatist looks at the difference between front- and back-stage
behaviour, and how people can end up believing their own lies (in psychology, a
form of cognitive self-dissonance combined with rationalization). Again, Somerset
Maugham, presumably inadvertently, lends weight to this in commenting on a man
who died while trying to save a dog:

Like a man who cherishes a vice until it gets a stranglehold on him so that he is its
helpless slave, he had lied so long that he had come to believe his own lies. Bob For-
rester had pretended for so many years to be a gentleman that in the end, forgetting
that it was all a fake, he had found himself driven to act as in that stupid, conventional
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elle vit et s’agite comme l’araignée au milieu de sa toile. Aussi les
vrais poëtes, les orateurs et les écrivains dignes de ce nom ont-ils
fait tous une large part aux besoins de nos sens; ils nous ont
présenté la vérité comme le Tasse veut qu’on présente à l’enfant le
breuvage salutaire. Telle était la doctrine de l’antiquité qu’on trouve
résumée dans cet adage connu:
Gratior et pulchro veniens in corpore virtus.

«La vertu est plus gracieuse quand elle habite un beau corps.»
Cette heureuse pondération entre le beau et le vrai a été troublée
par l’avénement du christianisme, qui a nié une moitié de la nature
humaine pour exalter la puissance de l’esprit. La Renaissance, ce
mouvement prodigieux que l’Italie a vu naître et qu’elle a
communiqué à toute l’Europe, a été une réaction légitime contre
l’ascétisme de l’Église et une revendication de la sensibilité
méconnue.
—Il ne m’appartient pas, monsieur l’abbé, répondit avec
modestie Pacchiarotti, de vous suivre dans ces hautes régions de
l’histoire. Mon domaine est heureusement beaucoup plus restreint,
et je m’en réfère à des autorités qui sont plus à ma portée. Dans son
excellent livre de l’Opera in musica, Planelli a donné une définition
des beaux-arts qui entre parfaitement dans vos vues et dont je puis
apprécier la justesse: «Les beaux-arts furent ainsi nommés, dit-il,
parce qu’ils cherchent à nous émouvoir en flattant nos sens. Ils ne
sont pas, comme les sciences, nés d’une pensée calme et réfléchie;
ils ont été conçus par l’esprit humain dans le trouble des passions.»
Cela est vrai surtout de la musique et de l’art de chanter, qui en est
la partie la plus exquise et qui agit directement sur notre sensibilité.
Aussi nos maîtres les plus estimés, Pistochi de Bologne, son élève
Bernachi, Tosi et Mancini, qui en ont résumé les principes dans leurs
écrits, Porpora de Naples et ses glorieux disciples, tels que Farinelli
et Caffarelli, ont-ils recommandé au virtuose une étude longue et
patiente du mécanisme vocal avant d’aborder l’expression des
paroles et de franchir le seuil du sanctuaire. Qui ne sait que le vieux
Porpora a tenu pendant des années son élève Caffarelli sur une page
de solfeggio, sans lui permettre de chanter même une simple
canzonetta? L’élève, s’ennuyant de gazouiller comme un oiseau
toujours la même chose, demanda un jour au maestro quand il lui
serait au moins permis de tourner la page. «Quand tu sauras ton
métier,» lui répondit brusquement Porpora. Et deux ans après il lui
dit en le prenant par les oreilles: «Maintenant tu peux chanter ce
que tu voudras, car tu es le premier virtuose de l’Italie.»
«Sans donner plus d’importance qu’il ne faut à de pareilles
anecdotes, ajouta Pacchiarotti, il est certain que les plus grands
effets de l’art tiennent à des artifices d’exécution sans lesquels le
génie le plus heureusement doué manque le but qu’il se propose. Un
mot, un coup de pinceau, un accord placé à propos, changent
quelquefois la physionomie de toute une œuvre. L’oreille surtout a
des voluptés mystérieuses qui se confondent souvent avec l’émotion
du cœur, et dont il n’est pas toujours facile d’indiquer la source. Que
de choses en effet dans une gamme bien faite, dont chaque son se
détache sur un fond mélodique qui ne se brise jamais, dans un trille
lumineux qui scintille comme un diamant, dans une simple note
qu’on remplit successivement du souffle de la vie! Et que de nuances
dans ce qu’on appelle le timbre de la voix, dans le tissu (tessatura)
plus ou moins fin d’une vocalise, dans cet heureux empâtement des
sons qui forme un tout harmonieux et remplit l’oreille d’une sonorité
suave, comme un fruit savoureux parfume la bouche! Sans doute on
a beaucoup abusé de ces délicatesses; au lieu d’en faire un
ornement de la vérité et du sentiment, on les a prodiguées sans
goût et sans mesure, comme les mauvais écrivains prodiguent les
images et les concetti de l’esprit. N’existe-t-il pas des peintres qui se
jouent de la couleur, ainsi qu’il y a des musiciens qui ne peuvent
écrire trois mesures sans moduler? Faut-il pour cela dédaigner la
couleur et la modulation, comme le prétendent certains anachorètes
aussi dépourvus de bon sens que de sensibilité? Voilà pourtant où
conduirait l’exagération de certains principes émis par un illustre
compositeur. Je veux parler du chevalier Gluck, dont le beau génie
valait mieux que la fausse théorie qui s’est propagée sous son nom.
Parce qu’il avait rencontré des cantatrices extravagantes, comme la
Gabrielli, qui, ne tenant compte ni de la pensée du maître, ni du
caractère de la situation, donnaient une libre carrière à leurs
caprices et ne visaient qu’à éblouir l’oreille, il aurait voulu que le
virtuose aussi bien que le compositeur oubliassent pour ainsi dire
qu’ils étaient des musiciens pour devenir les instruments du poëte et
les interprètes passifs de la vérité logique. Si un pareil système
pouvait jamais prévaloir, ce serait la négation de tous les arts. Est-ce
qu’un Farinelli, un Guadagni, un Millico, pour être d’admirables
virtuoses, en étaient moins pathétiques et moins touchants? On a
fait grand bruit au delà des monts de ce qu’on appelle l’expression
dramatique, qu’on semble confondre avec l’émotion du cœur, ce qui
me paraît être une grande erreur. Je laisse à de plus savants que moi
à décider si le compositeur dramatique doit exiger de la voix
humaine des efforts qui en détruisent le charme, et pousser la
peinture des passions jusqu’au cri de la bête. Tout ce qu’il m’est
permis d’affirmer, c’est que Gluck a exagéré un principe vrai, et que
son système n’a pu réussir que chez une nation dépourvue d’instinct
musical, où il n’a produit en définitive qu’une école d’insupportables
déclamateurs.
—C’est soublime, c’est souperbe, s’écria avec emphase le vieux
Grotto, qui était blotti dans un coin où il gesticulait comme un
possédé en roulant ses gros yeux de chouette; Pacchiarotti, tu es le
premier homme de notre temps, tu sei il primo uomo della nostra
età,» dit-il en se levant de sa chaise et avec un accent qui n’était pas
moins comique que le singulier compliment qu’il adressait au célèbre
sopraniste.
Après cette sortie, qui amusa beaucoup la Vicentina: «Il est
certain, dit l’abbé Zamaria, qu’il est impossible de professer des
idées plus saines et plus élevées sur un art qui semblerait devoir
échapper à toute considération générale, et vos paroles ont d’autant
plus d’autorité, mon cher Pacchiarotti, que vous êtes parfaitement
désintéressé dans la question que vous défendez si bien, puisque
c’est par la sobriété du style, par la grande manière de chanter le
récitatif et d’exprimer la passion, que vous l’emportez sur tous vos
rivaux, et particulièrement sur le froid et beau Marchesi. Du reste,
continua l’abbé, il n’est pas inutile de dire en passant que l’abus des
fioritures et des oripeaux de la vocalisation, contre lesquels Marcello
s’est élevé bien avant Gluck dans son charmant opuscule il Teatro
alla moda, est plus ancien qu’on ne croit. On a prétendu
(particulièrement le comte Algarotti) que c’étaient Bernachi et Pasi,
tous deux élèves de Pistochi, qui avaient introduit dans la musique
italienne, vers le commencement du XVIIIe siècle, ce luxe de
gorgheggi qui sont un peu à l’art de chanter ce qu’étaient à la
composition les combinaisons ingénieuses des contrapointistes du
XVIe siècle. Il me serait très-facile de vous prouver que les Grecs
n’étaient point étrangers aux artifices du gosier, qui soulevaient déjà
le blâme des philosophes, et que, même dans le chant ecclésiastique
appelé cantofermo, on trouve des signes nombreux qui, reproduits
dans la notation moderne, représentent des effets assez compliqués
de vocalisation. Gui d’Arezzo, qui vivait au Xe siècle, ne parlait-il pas,
dans le quinzième chapitre de son Micrologue, d’un certain
tremblement de la voix qui est exactement le même effet que nous
appelons aujourd’hui vibrato, espèce de tressaillement qu’on
imprime à l’organe vocal pour simuler l’émotion de l’âme? On
trouverait dans un autre théoricien du XIIIe siècle, Jérôme de
Moravie, l’explication d’une foule d’ornements et de fredons qui se
pratiquaient d’instinct sur la large mélopée du plain-chant grégorien.
Il est d’une bonne critique de ne pas attribuer à des causes
éloignées ce qui s’explique tout naturellement par le jeu de nos
facultés. Dans tous les temps et chez tous les peuples, on a usé plus
ou moins des artifices de la vocalisation; mais il vrai de dire qu’au
commencement du XVIIIe siècle, alors que la mélodie s’épanouissait
comme une fleur radieuse qui avait été longtemps comprimée sous
les broussailles du contre-point et les subtilités de la musique
madrigalesque, le chant fit tout à coup un pas énorme, et donna
naissance à cette merveilleuse bravoure de gosier qui a ébloui le
monde. Bernachi, Pasi, l’étonnant Caffarelli, la Gabrielli dont vous
parliez tout à l’heure, Marchesi et tant d’autres prodiges que je
pourrais citer, n’ont point inventé ce qui est dans la nature des
choses; mais ils ont perfectionné et poussé jusqu’au raffinement l’art
d’amuser l’oreille par les caprices de la vocalisation. Ne croyez pas,
mon cher Pacchiarotti, que ce soit là un phénomène particulier à l’art
que vous enseignez avec une si grande distinction. On l’a vu se
produire également ailleurs, et la poésie a ses virtuoses aussi bien
que l’éloquence. Il y a de certains moments, dans l’histoire des
œuvres de l’esprit, où l’homme, tout glorieux d’une conquête
récente qu’il vient de faire, se joue avec la forme matérielle comme
un enfant avec un hochet qui excite sa curiosité. On dirait d’un
parvenu qui ne peut s’empêcher d’étaler aux yeux de tous les
marques de sa nouvelle opulence. L’homme s’amuse alors à
combiner des mots et des rimes sonores, à grouper des images ou
des couleurs étranges qui frappent ses sens et le détournent du but
où il aspirait d’abord. Ces moments précèdent et suivent les grandes
époques de l’art, les époques de pleine maturité qui portent le nom
de siècles d’or. Avant ou après cette heure suprême de civilisation, il
n’y a guère que des artisans occupés à créer la langue ou des
bateleurs qui en forcent les effets. Les nombreux et admirables
chanteurs que l’Italie a vus naître depuis le commencement de ce
siècle jusqu’à nos jours étaient des fantaisistes qui se sont exagéré
la part de liberté qui revient au virtuose dans l’exécution d’une
œuvre musicale. Il n’y a rien de plus difficile à l’homme que d’éviter
les extrêmes et de rester dans les limites de la vérité ornée.»
Ces réflexions de l’abbé Zamaria surprirent un peu Lorenzo, qui
avait entendu rarement sortir de la bouche de son maître des
paroles aussi constamment sérieuses et d’une si grande portée. Son
intelligence s’ouvrait facilement aux considérations générales qui
ramènent les questions d’école et de métier à un principe générateur
qui les simplifie; elle suivait avec un vif intérêt une discussion qui
répondait aux tendances de sa nature. Aussi ne perdait-il pas un mot
de ce que disaient Pacchiarotti et surtout l’abbé Zamaria, dont
l’esprit enjoué et le caractère enfantin ne retrouvaient un peu de
gravité que lorsqu’on touchait à l’objet de sa passion. L’abbé ne
voyait le monde qu’à travers l’art musical, et les questions de goût
étaient pour lui les seules vérités importantes de la vie. La Vicentina,
au contraire, qui n’entendait pas grand’chose à cette métaphysique
de l’art de charmer, dont elle n’appréciait que les effets, commençait
à s’ennuyer de servir ainsi de sujet à de savantes argumentations, et
elle semblait dire à Lorenzo, de ses beaux yeux étonnés et remplis
de malice: «Est-ce un philosophe ou bien une cantatrice qu’on veut
faire de moi?»
Pacchiarotti, qui aperçut sur le front de sa belle élève de légers
nuages dont il devina la cause, lui dit aussitôt: «Figlia mia, il faut
chanter de meilleure musique que le morceau de ce pauvre Nasolini
que vous nous avez fait entendre. Un virtuose qui ne connaît que les
œuvres des maîtres contemporains ne saurait avoir de style, c’est-à-
dire une manière large, soutenue, aisée, où la phrase mélodique se
développe avec noblesse, et exige de la prévoyance, de la
composition, une distribution intelligente des ombres et des
lumières. Or, pour obtenir ce résultat, il faut absolument remonter à
la tradition qui commence au XVIIIe siècle avec les œuvres et les
cantates de Scarlatti, de Porpora, avec la musique pénétrante et
suave de Leo et celle de Jomelli, son immortel disciple. Par-delà
cette époque mémorable, il y a eu sans doute quelques chanteurs de
mérite, tels que Stradella et Baldassar Ferri au XVIIe siècle, mais
point d’école et aucun ensemble de doctrines dont il faille se
préoccuper. C’est avec la musique dramatique, qui n’a pris une forme
appréciable pour nous qu’à partir du XVIIIe siècle, que commence
l’art moderne; quant aux chanteurs de la Renaissance, à ces
nombreux interprètes de la musique madrigalesque et des canzoni a
liuto et a ballo qui ont précédé la naissance de l’opéra, c’est un point
d’histoire qui n’intéresse que des érudits comme M. l’abbé Zamaria
ou il padre Martini. Par exemple, continua Pacchiarotti, essayez un
peu de nous dire une de ces cantates de Porpora qui sont là sous les
yeux de Lorenzo, et qui ont servi à l’éducation des plus grands
virtuoses qu’ait formés ce maître, tels que les Farinelli, les Caffarelli,
les Salimbeni, il Porporino, la Mingotti et la Gabrielli, qui a reçu aussi
du glorieux élève de Scarlatti des conseils dont elle n’a guère profité.
Cela intéressera d’autant plus M. l’abbé Zamaria, que Porpora a
passé les plus belles années de sa vie à Venise, où il a publié ses
meilleures cantates et dirigé l’Ospedaletto.»
 Pacchiarotti se mit alors à feuilleter du doigt un recueil de
cantates de différents auteurs, de Carissimi, de Scarlatti, de
Marcello, de Bassani, de Barbara Strozzi, noble Vénitienne, d’Astorga
le Sicilien; puis il arrêta son regard sur l’une des plus charmantes
inspirations de Porpora. C’était une cantate pour voix de soprano,
précédée d’un récitatif fort simple en apparence, mais dont le
virtuose fit comprendre la difficulté par les nuances infinies qu’il y
apercevait:
Fra gl’amorrosi lacci
Come s’arda e s’agghiacci
A un punto sol,
Tu m’insegnasti, o cara[20]!

Sur ce texte un peu précieux, qui exprime non pas les

vicissitudes de l’amour, mais les velléités d’une fantaisie légèrement
émue, Porpora a écrit une déclamation élégante et très-accidentée
par la modulation qui sert de préface à un joli cantabile.
La Vicentina, de sa voix puissante, se mit à déclamer avec pompe
et fracas ce simple récitatif, qui ne demandait au contraire qu’à être
effleuré des lèvres comme un léger prélude où l’âme s’essaye à
trouver le mot suprême qu’elle n’ose articuler. Aussi Pacchiarotti lui
dit-il après quelques mesures: «Vous n’y êtes pas, mon enfant, et
vous donnez à ce récit un accent passionné et baldanzoso qui
conviendrait tout au plus à la musique de Gluck ou à celle de Jomelli.
Il n’y a pas dans l’œuvre de Porpora ni dans celle des premiers
maîtres napolitains une seule page qui comporte un tel luxe de
sonorité. J’avais donc bien raison de vous dire qu’un chanteur qui ne
remonte pas à la tradition de son école ne possédera jamais la
variété de style qui est nécessaire à un grand artiste. Écoutez-moi,»
lui dit-il. Et, joignant l’exemple au précepte, Pacchiarotti chanta le
récitatif que nous venons de citer et que Lorenzo accompagnait au
clavecin. Il ne fit entendre d’abord qu’un son à peine musical, plus
voisin de la parole que de la mélodie proprement dite. A mesure que
le récit exprimait une nuance plus vive de sentiment, le son
s’épanouissait davantage et s’élevait en sonorité. Lorsqu’il fut arrivé
à ce passage où l’amant conjure sa bien-aimée de le traiter avec
moins de rigueur, promettant à ce prix d’oublier le passé, l’admirable
virtuose développa une phrase pleine de grâce qu’il suspendit un
instant sur un accord de septième diminuée, pour en faire mieux
désirer la conclusion, qu’il acheva d’un accent ému, mais toujours
tempéré.
L’aria fui exécutée aussi par le virtuose avec une coquetterie et
une fluidité de style inimitables qui étaient bien en rapport avec ces
paroles d’une aimable galanterie:
Ch’io mai vi possa
Lasciar d’amare,
No, nol credete
Pupille care,
Ne men per gioco
V’ingannerò[21]!

Ce madrigal de Métastase a éveillé aussi de nos jours la fantaisie

de Rossini. Il forme le premier morceau des Soirées musicales, chef-
d’œuvre de grâce mélodique et d’harmonie exquise, qui est au génie
de l’auteur de Guillaume Tell ce que les capitoli ou élégies sont à
celui de l’Arioste. En comparant l’aria de Porpora à la canzone de
Rossini, on voit à cent ans de distance, et à travers les modifications
et les progrès de l’art, la persistance du génie italien, facile, élégant
et toujours lumineux. Dans la cantate du maître napolitain, remplie
d’étincelles et de trilles innombrables qui jaillissent d’une mélodie
coquette et fort ingénieusement accompagnée, on sent comme la
fraîche haleine d’une muse qui a plus de caprices que de passion[22].
Dans celle de Rossini, si admirablement modulée, et dont presque
chaque note reflète une dissonance qui fuit comme un désir, il
semble qu’on entende l’aveu d’un sentiment qui sourit et badine
pour ne point effaroucher l’oreille qui l’écoute. On dirait une scène
de villégiature, un doux entretien dans une allée ombreuse, au
déclin d’un beau jour.
«Avez-vous bien saisi les différentes nuances que j’ai fait ressortir
dans le récitatif de Porpora? dit Pacchiarotti à la Vicentina, qui avait
écouté avec ravissement l’admirable virtuose. En passant
successivement d’un récit qui se rapproche presque de la parole
ordinaire à une sonorité plus intense qui va s’épanouir en une forme
vraiment musicale, j’ai suivi la tradition des grands chanteurs qui
avaient appliqué d’instinct une loi essentielle du goût. Cette loi est
bien simple, et quelques mots suffisent pour l’expliquer. Toutes les
fois que le récitatif révèle des faits qui tiennent plus à la vie
matérielle qu’à celle du sentiment, il faut parler plutôt que chanter.
Le récit s’élève-t-il au-dessus des vulgarités qui nous entourent, le
son doit être plus musical que prosaïque, et s’il entre enfin dans la
région de l’âme, la voix doit éclater et couvrir la parole de sa
magnificence. Cette progression de sonorité, qui répond à la logique
des passions, forme la grande difficulté du récitatif, qu’on déclame
de nos jours avec une fastueuse monotonie.
—Admirablement dit! s’écria l’abbé Zamaria; et si je ne craignais
de vous interrompre encore une fois par des réminiscences de
pédant, j’ajouterais que les anciens ont professé une doctrine à peu
près semblable, qu’ils étendaient non-seulement à la mélopée, mais
au débit oratoire et à toutes les formes de la poésie. Or il n’est pas
indifférent d’avoir les anciens pour soi dans une question de goût,
car il n’y a pas d’art moderne qui ne puisse être ramené à un
principe de vérité connu de l’antiquité. Dans le dixième livre de ses
Confessions, saint Augustin rapporte que saint Anastase faisait
chanter les psaumes d’une voix si modérée, que l’effet ressemblait
plus à la parole qu’à la musique; ce qui faisait croire à saint Isidore
de Séville que c’est ainsi que les premiers Pères de l’Église voulaient
qu’on célébrât les louanges de Dieu. Ce qu’il y a de certain, mon
cher Pacchiarotti, c’est que les trois degrés de sonorité dont vous
venez de nous expliquer la loi n’ont point échappé à la sagacité de
Quintilien, qui recommande positivement à l’orateur d’éviter les
accents extrêmes et de se tenir sur le milieu de l’échelle vocale,
mediis igitur utendum sonis, entre la musique proprement dite et la
parole ordinaire.
—Je suis heureux d’apprendre, monsieur l’abbé, que les
préceptes de notre art pourraient au besoin s’appuyer de si graves
autorités, répondit Pacchiarotti; mais comme il est peu probable que
la Vicentina lise jamais les Confessions de saint Augustin, je dirai que
les plus célèbres cantatrices du XVIIIe siècle, que j’ai presque toutes
entendues, confirment par leur exemple les principes que je viens
d’émettre, et qui ont mérité votre approbation. Quel siècle que celui
qui a vu briller tour à tour la Faustina, d’une grâce et d’une
coquetterie de style inimitable; la Cuzzoni, sa rivale, dont la voix
enchanteresse excitait des transports; la Mingotti, leur
contemporaine, qui n’avait point d’égale dans l’expression des
sentiments élevés; l’Astrua, d’une bravoure merveilleuse; la
Bastardella (Lucrezia Agujari), dont la voix surpassait en flexibilité et
en étendue celle de la Gabrielli; la Mara, Allemande d’origine comme
la Mingotti, et comme elle grande musicienne, qui a partagé avec la
Gabrielli l’étonnement de l’Europe; la belle Mme Grassini et la Todi,
dont la voix expressive de contralto lui a disputé la palme del canto
di portamento; la Morichelli, excellente comédienne et d’une jovialité
charmante; la Billington, la Banti, qui comme vous, cara mia
Vicentina, a eu une origine modeste, et a été surnommée cantante
di piazza, parce qu’elle a commencé par chanter dans les rues. Bien
que son éducation ait été fort négligée, et qu’elle soit presque aussi
ignorante qu’elle est laide, la Banti possède une voix si délicieuse et
un instinct si parfait, qu’elle est aujourd’hui la dernière grande
virtuose qui nous reste d’une époque miraculeuse.»
«Où allez-vous, Lorenzo? lui dit un jour la Vicentina en sortant de
chez Pacchiarotti, où pour la première fois ils s’étaient rencontrés
seuls et sans aucune des personnes qui avaient l’habitude d’assister
à ces leçons intéressantes.
—Je retourne au palais Zeno, lui répondit-il.
—Vous êtes donc bien pressé d’aller vous enfoncer dans vos
livres et de revoir la signora Beata, pour laquelle je vous soupçonne
d’avoir plus que du respect?
—Oh! pour cela, vous vous trompez beaucoup, dit-il en
rougissant.
—Eh bien! si je me trompe, prouvez-le-moi en me donnant le
bras. Vous m’accompagnerez un instant chez moi, et puis nous irons
nous promener un peu, si votre philosophie ne s’y refuse pas. Je suis
entièrement libre aujourd’hui, je n’ai point de répétitions et ne
chante pas ce soir.»
Surpris d’une invitation à laquelle il était loin de s’attendre,
Lorenzo ne sut d’abord que répondre. Balbutiant quelques mots
insignifiants, il suivit la Vicentina, poussé par la fausse honte de
paraître impoli s’il refusait, et par cette émotion confuse qu’éprouve
la jeunesse à la vue d’un danger qui l’attire. Arrivés chez la
Vicentina, qui demeurait tout près du théâtre San-Benedetto, dans
un appartement somptueux où éclatait le luxe frivole d’une diva du
jour:
«Asseyez-vous là un instant, maestrino mio, lui dit-elle en le
conduisant dans un boudoir élégant tout rempli d’objets de
séduction; je vais donner quelques ordres, et je suis à vous pour
toute la journée.»
Resté seul dans ce petit sanctuaire, d’où s’exhalaient des parfums
de toute nature, assis sur un sofa moelleux qui ne disposait point à
la contrition, Lorenzo parcourut d’un regard étonné ces mille
colifichets précieux qui forment l’arsenal de la coquetterie féminine.
En face d’une grande et belle glace de Murano enchâssée dans un
cadre d’or finement sculpté, il y avait un joli clavecin incrusté de
nacre, où la prima donna pouvait se voir étudier, afin de ne point
contracter d’habitudes vicieuses et de conserver toujours sur ses
lèvres de rose un sourire inaltérable. Un grand nombre de gravures,
représentant différents épisodes de la vie galante, d’après Pierre
Longhi, peintre de mœurs et caricaturiste ingénieux, garnissaient les
murs et traduisaient aux yeux de tout le monde les pensées secrètes
et peu mélancoliques de la Vicentina, dont le portrait était suspendu
à une guirlande de fleurs que soutenaient deux Amours. L’un de ces
Amours joufflus et bien portants jouait de la trompette, et l’autre du
flageolet, emblème significatif de la double célébrité que déjà s’était
acquise la belle protégée de Zustiniani. Ce qui attira plus
particulièrement l’attention de Lorenzo, ce fut une série de petits
tableaux, d’un goût au moins équivoque, qui reproduisaient les
différentes situations d’un roman célèbre intitulé: la Ballerina infelice
(la Danseuse malheureuse). On la voyait naître sous le chaume,
grandir sous la tutelle d’une fée invisible qui l’avait douée de tous les
charmes, quitter son village avec un beau seigneur, s’élancer sur le
théâtre aux applaudissements d’un public enthousiaste, entourée
d’adorateurs et au comble de la félicité humaine; puis, frappée au
cœur par un sentiment sérieux qui était venu la surprendre au milieu
de ses voluptés faciles, elle redescendait précipitamment la colline
fatale. Flétrie avant le temps, pauvre, vieille et délaissée, on la voyait
accroupie derrière le pilier d’une église où, d’une main défaillante,
elle jetait dans le tronc, pour le soulagement des trépassés, la
dernière obole qui lui restait. Alors s’accomplissait un vrai miracle:
cette obole de la charité s’échappait du tronc sous la forme d’un
ange qui allait délivrer une âme du purgatoire, et la conduisait
radieuse au séjour des bienheureux.
Étonné de trouver une idée aussi sérieuse dans une fable
vulgaire, Lorenzo s’était levé pour examiner de plus près le tableau
qui représentait la danseuse au milieu de ses admirateurs, lorsque la
Vicentina entra sans bruit, et, s’appuyant gracieusement sur l’épaule
de Lorenzo, qui tournait le dos à la porte, elle lui dit tout bas à
l’oreille: «Que dites-vous de cette triste histoire, mon ami? Voilà
quelle sera peut-être aussi ma destinée, sans que je puisse même
espérer qu’un ange viendra un jour me délivrer de mes peines.
—Qu’avez-vous donc à vous faire pardonner, que vous ayez à
craindre une si longue expiation?» répondit Lorenzo en se tournant
précipitamment du côté de la Vicentina, qui était ravissante sous le
nouveau costume qu’elle avait revêtu.
Un joli manteau de soie rose enveloppait sa taille courte et
souple, que contenait à peine un corset à ramages aux vives
couleurs. Un voile en point de Venise, fixé par un grand peigne en
écaille qui surmontait l’édifice de sa chevelure abondante, faisait un
joyeux contraste avec le manteau rose, et redescendait en plis
onduleux sur un sein adorable que soulevait fréquemment un souffle
généreux. Un bel œillet de couleur de pourpre, ornement
caractéristique de toute femme vénitienne, faisait saillie du côté
gauche de sa belle chevelure noire, qui garnissait ses deux tempes
d’un petit crochet qu’on appelait le carquois de l’Amour. Joignez à cet
ensemble deux beaux yeux pétillants d’esprit et de malice, une
bouche vermeille aux lèvres effilées qui distillaient un sourire
inzucherà, comme disent les poëtes des lagunes, et plus exquis que
l’ambroisie des dieux, un petit pied mignon contenu dans des mules
de velours où brillait une rose sans épine, et vous aurez une idée
bien imparfaite de cette charmante créature, qui semblait exprimer
par tout son être la poésie du caprice et de la volupté facile.
«Vous êtes mordant, dit la Vicentina en baissant un peu les yeux
pour simuler une tristesse qui était bien loin de son cœur, car elle
était ravie de l’effet qu’avait produit sur Lorenzo son joli costume. Et
si j’avais à vous conter mon histoire, ajouta-t-elle en poussant un
petit soupir hypocrite, vous verriez que je n’ai d’autre faute à me
reprocher que d’avoir été trop sincère dans mes affections. Que n’ai-
je rencontré, comme la Ballerina, une âme qui répondît à la mienne!
Je ne craindrais ni la misère, ni les peines de l’autre vie.»
Il serait assez difficile de dire ce qu’il y avait de vrai dans cette
petite scène de sentiment jouée par la Vicentina, qui depuis
longtemps avait jeté sur Lorenzo un regard de convoitise. Ce jeune
homme qui s’épanouissait avec bonheur au souffle de la vie, et qui
semblait impatient d’aborder des rivages inconnus, avait d’abord
excité la curiosité et puis l’intérêt de la brillante prima donna, qui,
venue en plein vent ainsi qu’un arbre abandonné, n’avait point fleuri
à l’heure désirée. Flétrie par des passions séniles qui avaient dévoré
son enfance, peut-être n’avait-elle pas encore ressenti cette
secousse intérieure qui soulève des montagnes et comble des
abîmes. Lorenzo était probablement pour la Vicentina ce qu’elle avait
été elle-même pour les artisans de sa fortune, une fleur matinale
dont on aime à respirer le premier parfum. Mais, si le cœur de la
femme est une énigme qui défie la sagacité de l’observateur le
moins crédule, qu’est-ce donc que celui d’une cantatrice adulée qui
peut, comme Jupiter, faire trembler l’Olympe d’un coup de sa
prunelle? Où s’arrête la fiction dans ces monstres charmants, et quel
est le point imperceptible
 Ove le due nature son consorti[23],

où le caprice des sens vient se mêler au sentiment de l’âme? Ce

n’est pas Lorenzo qui était en état de résoudre un problème si
difficile, et si la Vicentina avait réellement arrangé cette scène pour
s’emparer de l’imagination de notre adolescent, il faut avouer qu’elle
en avait admirablement combiné les épisodes.
«Fiorilla, s’écria la Vicentina à sa camériste, la gondole est-elle
prête?
—Oh! signora, il y a plus d’un quart d’heure que Tonio et
Giuseppe sont là à vous attendre, répondit une voix argentine en
ouvrant la porte du boudoir.
—Puisqu’il en est ainsi, répliqua la prima donna, nous pouvons
partir.»
Elle prit un masque qui était sur sa toilette au milieu de cahiers
de musique et de plusieurs éventails, et descendit légèrement
l’escalier de marbre au bas duquel était amarrée la gondole. Les
barcaroles s’empressèrent d’ouvrir la petite porte par où l’on pénètre
à reculons dans cette conque de Vénus, conchiglia di Venere; et
après avoir fait entrer Lorenzo, comme pour s’assurer de sa proie:
«A Murano, dit la Vicentina aux barcaroles, all’orto di San Stefano,
au jardin de Saint-Stephan.»
La porte refermée et les deux barcaroles ayant pris leur place,
l’un à la proue, et l’autre à la poupe, la gondole s’éloigna
rapidement. On était au mois de juin. Après le carnaval et avant que
la saison de villégiature ne fût arrivée, la société vénitienne avait
l’habitude de se répandre au dehors, et d’aller rompre le jeûne de la
pénitence vers l’une de ces petites îles qui l’entourent et qui
parsèment le golfe Adriatique comme autant de bosquets enchantés.
Murano, à deux lieues au couchant de Venise, était le rendez-vous
préféré par la bonne compagnie. C’est dans cette île célèbre par ses
verreries connues de toute l’Europe, où il y avait un grand nombre
de couvents, de casinos, de jardins et de joyeuses académies, que
les grands seigneurs avaient leurs maisons de plaisance, avant que
la république eût mis le pied sur la terre ferme et fait la conquête de
Padoue, au commencement du XIVe siècle. Murano était considéré
comme le berceau de la civilisation vénitienne. Les Vivarini y avaient
fondé les premières écoles de peinture, et Paul Véronèse, Tintoretto,
Bassan et beaucoup d’autres, y ont laissé de nombreux témoignages
de leur génie. Après avoir traversé le petit canal de’ Mendicanti, la
gondole voguait en pleine mer par une de ces journées où il semble
que la nature ait conscience de la vie qui la pénètre, et nous invite à
partager son bonheur. Le soleil radieux n’avait pas encore assez de
force pour incommoder de sa chaleur, et ses rayons, attiédis par des
brises chargées d’aromes printaniers, glissaient sur les vagues en les
colorant de mille reflets. Quelques oiseaux voltigeaient à l’horizon
d’azur; des algues marines, des fragments d’herbes et de fleurs qui
décelaient le passage récent des fruttaioli, ou marchands de fruits,
qui tous les matins venaient des îles approvisionner la capitale,
flottaient çà et là sur la cime des flots amers, comme si l’aurore les
eût laissés tomber par mégarde du haut des cieux. Assis mollement
près de la Vicentina, qui le couvait du regard, Lorenzo parut inquiet
et comme troublé de la situation où il se voyait pour la première fois.
Ne sachant trop que dire, respirant à peine, il cherchait à démêler
dans la confusion de ses idées la cause du léger malaise qu’il
éprouvait. La Vicentina, qui lisait plus clairement dans ses yeux que
Lorenzo ne lisait dans son propre cœur et qui jouissait
intérieurement de l’empire de ses charmes, semblait lui dire en
voyant son émotion:
O jeune adolescent! tu rougis devant moi.
Vois mes traits sans couleur; ils pâlissent pour toi:
C’est ton front virginal, ta grâce, ta décence;
Viens. Il est d’autres jeux que les jeux de l’enfance[24].

Se rapprochant de Lorenzo et lui passant un bras derrière le cou:

«Carino, lui dit-elle d’une voix caressante, qu’avez-vous donc?
Regretteriez-vous de m’avoir consacré cette belle journée et voulez-
vous que nous retournions à Venise pour tranquilliser la signora
Beata sur votre sort?
 —Je vous ai déjà dit, répondit Lorenzo avec vivacité, que la noble
fille du sénateur Zeno n’a droit qu’à mon respect, et qu’elle ne
s’inquiète guère de l’usage que je puis faire de mon temps.
—Pardonnez-moi, répliqua malicieusement la cantatrice, de
supposer l’existence d’un sentiment bien naturel dans votre position.
Toute grande dame qu’elle est, la signora Beata ne pourrait que se
féliciter d’inspirer une affection qui ferait envie à bien des femmes....
car, mon cher Lorenzo, vous n’êtes pas un jeune homme ordinaire.
J’ignore quels sont vos projets d’avenir et quelle carrière vous
comptez embrasser; mais, avec votre esprit et vos connaissances,
vous pouvez hardiment aspirer à vous faire un nom qu’on serait
heureuse de porter.»
Ces paroles d’une fine coquetterie dissipèrent un peu l’embarras
de Lorenzo, dont la vanité n’avait pas besoin d’être si adroitement
excitée pour se prendre facilement à l’amorce qu’on lui jetait. Dans
ce caractère encore indécis, où l’imagination et la sensibilité
s’alliaient à des velléités précoces d’indépendance, un mot suffisait
pour éveiller l’ambition de paraître moins timide et moins soumis
qu’il ne l’était en effet. Cependant le nom de Beata, prononcé par la
Vicentina dans une pareille situation, souleva dans le cœur de
Lorenzo un trouble d’une nature différente. Une voix secrète lui
disait que, pour mériter l’estime de la femme qu’il adorait, il ne
prenait pas un bon chemin. Il comprenait vaguement qu’en se
laissant aller à des relations si fragiles, il profanait le noble sentiment
qui était à ses propres yeux le seul titre qu’il eût à l’amour de Beata.
Pendant ce combat intérieur, le front de Lorenzo se couvrit de légers
soucis dont la Vicentina devina promptement la cause. Experte
comme elle l’était dans les artifices de la séduction, elle se garda
bien de faire des questions importunes. Se penchant vers lui en
souriant et sans proférer un mot, elle se mit à murmurer tout bas à
son oreille une canzonetta dont les paroles exprimaient
indirectement ce qu’elle ne voulait pas lui dire dans un langage plus
familier:
Coi pensieri malincolici
Non ti star a tormentar;
 Vien con mi, montemo in gondola,
Ce n’andremo in mezzo al mar.

Passeremo i porti e l’isole

Che contorna la città
E sul mare senza nuvole
La luna nascerà[25].

La voix de la Vicentina, tempérée par une émotion qui pouvait

être sincère, exhalait lentement la mélodie suave qui servait de
véhicule aux vers que nous venons de citer, et qui n’étaient que le
commencement d’une longue litanie au plaisir. Formée de larges
notes que reliait ensemble un rhythme flottant qui suivait le
balancement de la gondole, la canzonetta exprimait admirablement
cette volupté sereine mêlée d’un léger nuage de mélancolie, qui
forme le caractère de l’art et de la poésie de Venise. Enlacé presque
dans les bras de la jeune et belle prima donna, bercé par les molles
cadences de la gondole qui effleurait les vagues comme un cygne
amoureux, enivré par les sourds tressaillements de cette voix dont
les vibrations sonores s’évaporaient et lui revenaient amorties
comme un chant de sirènes s’égayant dans les profondeurs de la
mer, Lorenzo s’oublia dans un rêve prestigieux, et la divine image de
Beata se voila dans son cœur. Ce n’était plus l’humble fils de
Catarina Sarti, écoutant d’une oreille pieuse les exhortations
maternelles. Le nimbe de l’enfance bénie n’entourait plus sa tête; il
avait secoué ses langes, et ses désirs, comme des coursiers
impétueux, hennissaient d’impatience de franchir la carrière qui
s’ouvrait devant lui. «Sonnez, sonnez la fanfare joyeuse, ô belles
années de ma jeunesse! se disait-il dans son ravissement. Vivre,
c’est jouir; les passions sont un feu divin qui échauffe et dilate
l’intelligence. Vaines terreurs d’une éducation puérile, scrupules
d’une piété étroite, sous lesquels on voudrait étouffer la nature
humaine, vous avez disparu comme un nuage qui m’interceptait la
lumière de la vérité! Je suis un homme enfin, je sens, je vois, je
comprends que ce monde factice où j’ai été élevé est une fiction de
l’ignorance et de l’hypocrisie intéressées à perpétuer l’enfance du
genre humain. Mes yeux sont dessillés, l’infini est devant moi qui
excite mon activité, et où il n’y aura obstacle à mon ambition que
ceux de ma volonté. En avant donc, en avant, suivons nos désirs que
je vois tourbillonner là-bas, dans la plaine lumineuse, en chantant
l’hymne de la vie au milieu des belles passions de la nature humaine
qui dansent en chœur et font retentir les airs d’harmonies
ineffables!» Et son esprit s’élançait en effet, comme un cavalier
intrépide qui

Dinanzi polveroso va superbo[26],

et s’évanouit dans l’espace. Après cette vision qui traversa

l’imagination de Lorenzo comme un éclair de la sensibilité qui, en
s’épanouissant brusquement, met en relief le fond du caractère, se
sentant plus fort vis-à-vis de la Vicentina, il acheva la canzonetta
interrompue, qu’il connaissait aussi depuis longtemps:
En rêvant l’autre jour que je voyais Vénus voguer sur la mer dans une
conque d’or, n’était-ce pas toi, ô ma bien-aimée, qui m’apparaissais dans
une gondole légère comme ton cœur?
Tu es belle, tu es jeune et fraîche comme une fleur; écarte les tristes
pressentiments qui t’assiègent, ris et fais l’amour.

Ridi adesso
E fa l’amor.

Sur ces dernières paroles qui terminaient la canzonetta, la

mélodie plaintive qui les accompagnait s’épanouissait comme un
sourire radieux de la volupté[27].
En voyant cette barque se balancer sur l’onde azurée, en voyant
ce couple charmant que le hasard avait formé invoquer le plaisir en
effeuillant à ses pieds les premières heures du jour, en écoutant
leurs voix émues chanter alternativement une mélodie éclose sur les
lèvres de je ne sais quel gondolier qui en avait combiné le rhythme
sur les palpitations de son cœur; en plongeant le regard dans cet
archipel d’îles fortunées qui semblent avoir été ainsi groupées par la
nature, comme les notes diverses d’un accord harmonieux, ce n’est
point une fiction de la fantaisie qui se déroule sous vos yeux
enchantés, mais un épisode ordinaire de la vie vénitienne. On dirait
une marine du Canaletto illustrée par le poëte Lamberti, qu’on a
justement surnommé l’Anacréon des lagunes.
Arrivés à Murano, la Vicentina fit aborder la gondole à un palier
de marbre sur lequel ouvrait une porte basse d’un accès mystérieux.
C’était le jardin de Saint-Stephan, où les voluptueux, les amants
discrets et les politiques allaient faire des parties fines à l’ombre des
frais bocages qui, pour les Vénitiens, avaient l’attrait d’une chose
rare. Autour d’un assez beau jardin, il y avait des camerini ou
cabinets élégamment meublés, où l’on se faisait servir des collations
et des soupers délicats. Abrités sous une treille touffue qui longeait
une partie du jardin, ces cabinets, qui pouvaient contenir jusqu’à six
personnes, donnaient sur la mer, qui présentait aux regards des
convives un horizon varié d’incidents agréables. On ne pouvait y
pénétrer qu’après avoir frappé trois coups à la porte, pour donner le
temps à ceux qui voulaient se dérober à la curiosité des subalternes
de se couvrir du masque qu’en pareilles circonstances on portait
toujours avec soi. Du reste, la discrétion était la qualité non-
seulement des gondoliers, qui s’en faisaient un point d’honneur, mais
de tous les gens qui exerçaient une profession mercenaire. Sous un
gouvernement soupçonneux, qui cachait sa faiblesse sous l’appareil
d’une pénétration qu’on croyait infaillible, le silence et la réserve
devenaient une loi nécessaire dans les relations de la vie. Aussi le
caractère du peuple vénitien était-il un mélange de finesse et
d’aimable étourderie.
S’étant fait servir une merenda ou goûter, composé de fruits, de
pâtes diverses, et un excellent vin de Chypre, qui était pour les
Vénitiens ce que le vin de champagne est pour nous,
l’assaisonnement nécessaire d’un rendez-vous galant:
«Je voudrais bien savoir, dit Lorenzo d’un air dégagé, en buvant à
petites gorgées dans un verre de Murano qu’il tenait de ces deux
mains comme un calice, les coudes appuyés sur la table, ce que ton
protecteur Zustiniani dirait s’il nous voyait ici ensemble! Penses-tu
qu’il fût disposé à nous donner sa bénédiction?
 —Eh! pourquoi pas? répondit la Vicentina, un peu surprise de la
désinvolture avec laquelle il lui adressait une pareille question. Je ne
suis ni sa femme, ni sa fiancée, et mon cœur n’appartiendra qu’à
celui qui saura me plaire.
—Je veux bien croire, répondit Lorenzo avec plus de malice qu’il
ne pensait, que Zustiniani n’a pas la prétention de t’épouser, et qu’il
est assez raisonnable pour ne pas exiger l’impossible; mais enfin tu
lui dois beaucoup, et, n’eût-il que le droit de surveiller ta conduite
comme cantatrice, il serait vraisemblablement peu édifié de nous
savoir seuls et soletti dans ce camerino, d’où nous voyons comme
d’une loge de théâtre poindre à l’horizon le campanile de Saint-Marc
qui nous regarde comme un curieux qu’il est.»
La prima donna ouvrit de grands yeux étonnés à cette repartie;
toute bonne comédienne qu’elle pouvait être, elle ne s’était pas
attendue à une métamorphose aussi prompte de la part d’un jeune
homme dont elle venait, pour ainsi dire, de délier la langue.
Dissimulant la peine que lui faisaient les paroles de Lorenzo, pour
qui elle aurait voulu être aussi pure maintenant que Vénus sortant
de la mer, car il n’y a pas de femme, quelque déchue qu’elle soit, qui
ne désire capter l’estime de celui qui possède ses faveurs du
moment, et qui ne s’efforce au moins de jeter un voile sur un passé
douloureux:
«Si vous connaissiez ma vie, lui dit-elle avec une émotion
concentrée, vous seriez plus indulgent pour une pauvre fille qui, dès
l’âge de six ans, a dû mendier son pain sur des grandes routes en
chantant des chansons. Je n’ai pas été élevée par une fée
bienfaisante comme la Ballerina, ni sur les genoux d’une mère
jalouse de mes douleurs. Ainsi qu’un oiseau, il m’a fallu quitter le nid
ayant à peine des ailes pour chercher ma pâture dans les chants du
bon Dieu. Que j’ai souffert et combien j’ai pleuré intérieurement
pendant que sur mes lèvres endolories errait un sourire trompeur! il
me fallait bien simuler la joie et l’insouciance qui n’étaient pas dans
mon âme, pour attirer les regards du monde, qui ne s’intéresse
guère qu’à ceux qui paraissent heureux. C’est ainsi qu’à travers mille
vicissitudes je suis arrivé à Venise, où j’ai trouvé dans Zustiniani un
protecteur généreux. Je ne veux pas me faire meilleure qu’une
autre, ajouta-t-elle d’une voix moins émue, en me donnant à vos
yeux pour une victime sans tache de la destinée. Si j’ai failli, c’est
que des péagers cruels ont prélevé sur mon innocence un droit que
je ne pouvais acquitter autrement. Hélas! j’ai bien expié ces fautes
involontaires, puisque mon cœur n’a jamais connu l’amour!»
Lorenzo fut touché du simple récit de la Vicentina, qui est, à peu
de chose près, l’histoire de la plupart de ces pauvres reines de
théâtre que les froids moralistes jugent avec tant de rigueur. N’ayant
aucune expérience de la vie et des cruelles nécessités qu’elle
impose, c’était bien plus la vanité de paraître au-dessus de la
nouvelle position qui lui était faite que l’intention de mortifier la
charmante prima donna qui lui avait arraché les paroles blessantes
que nous venons de rapporter.
«Idolo mio, lui dit-il en se levant précipitamment de table et en
attirant la Vicentina auprès de la fenêtre, dissipe la tristesse qui
ternit l’éclat de tes beaux yeux, et pardonne-moi les suppositions
gratuites qui me sont échappées. Je ne voudrais pas payer
d’ingratitude le bonheur dont tu m’as comblé aujourd’hui. Que veux-
tu? continua-t-il en lui pressant la taille et en s’appuyant avec
abandon sur le rebord avancé de la fenêtre encadrée de verdure. Je
suis trop jeune encore pour mesurer la portée de mes paroles, et tes
baisers troubleraient l’esprit à de plus forts que moi.»
Il avait à peine prononcé ces mots, qu’un masque passa la tête
hors d’un cabinet voisin et se retira brusquement après les avoir
observés tous deux un instant. Ils étaient trop préoccupés l’un de
l’autre pour remarquer cette apparition qui les aurait rendus sans
doute plus circonspects. Penchée sur la fenêtre, et le regard éperdu
sur le front de son jeune amant, qui lui tenait toujours la taille
enlacée:
«Que la vie me serait un paradis, dit la Vicentina d’une petite
voix caressante, si je pouvais la passer avec toi! Tu serais mon
maître et mon conseil, et nous irions à travers le monde, moi en
chantant les œuvres de ton génie, qui puiserait peut-être dans ma
tendresse des inspirations qui feraient ta gloire. Tous les jours je
reçois de magnifiques propositions d’engagement pour Londres,
Madrid, Saint-Pétersbourg et les principales villes de l’Italie, et rien
ne s’oppose à ce que je les accepte, si tu voulais me suivre et
partager ma fortune. Eh bien! mon ami, lui dit-elle après un moment
de silence, que penses-tu de mon projet? La perspective d’agrandir
ton esprit en voyant sans cesse des pays et des hommes nouveaux
ne te paraît-elle pas une compensation suffisante à l’ennui de quitter
Venise, où nous pourrions revenir riches et indépendants?
—Il ne manque à ton beau rêve pour devenir une réalité,
répondit Lorenzo en posant ses lèvres sur celles de la Vicentina, que
le génie que tu m’accordes avec tant de générosité. Je ne suis
encore qu’un écolier, et si l’on décide que je dois parcourir la carrière
si difficile de compositeur, il me faudra apprendre bien des choses
que j’ignore.
—Ne peux-tu étudier ailleurs qu’à Venise, et n’y a-t-il que l’abbé
Zamaria au monde pour t’enseigner ce fastidieux contrapunto dont
je vous entends parler si souvent? Est-il bien nécessaire de passer sa
jeunesse à grouper de grosses notes sans bécarres ni bémols, pour
savoir écrire un de ces duetti qui excitent l’enthousiasme du public et
font la réputation d’un maestro? Les Cimarosa, les Paisiello, les plus
grands compositeurs de l’Italie n’ont pas commencé autrement, et si
tu veux m’en croire, tu laisseras là ces gros livres de grimoire que je
te vois toujours entre les mains, et qui doivent être aussi inutiles à
l’inspiration du compositeur que le sont aux chanteurs modernes les
réflexions savantes et abstruses de Pacchiarotti. Je le laisse dire et
n’ai garde de perdre mon temps et ma peine à écouter ces
dissertations à perte de vue sur des nuances d’expression que les
anges peuvent seuls apprécier. Moi, je chante avec mon cœur et ne
vais pas demander à saint Augustin la permission de lancer
un’occhiata ou une volatine qui plaisent au public que je veux
charmer. Pacchiarotti et Zamaria sont vieux, et nous sommes jeunes;
ils ont les soucis de l’expérience de leur âge, ayons les caprices,
l’imprévu et l’espérance du nôtre. Viens, partons ensemble, cher
Lorenzo, soyons heureux avant d’être sages, et nous pourrons
chanter un jour avec Lamberti, ce poëte de l’amour et des joies
faciles:
Dov’è quei dì beati
Che un merendin bastava
Che ambrosia el deventava
Solo da tè tocà?

Ne ranghi, ne tesori
Te dava allora el cielo
Ma el fresco, el bon, el bello
E un cuor inzucherà[28].»

En distillant ces jolis petits vers du bout des lèvres comme un

rayon de miel, la Vicentina rapprocha sa bouche de celle de Lorenzo,
et leur âme se fondit dans un long baiser harmonieux. Pendant ce
court instant d’ivresse, le masque reparut à la fenêtre du cabinet
voisin, comme s’il eût été inquiet du silence qui avait succédé au
dialogue qu’on vient de lire. Il regarda les deux amants, et
s’évanouit à un mouvement que fit Lorenzo pour se dégager des
étreintes de la prima donna.
Cependant la journée s’avançait, et le soleil pâlissant avertit la
Vicentina qu’il était trop tard pour aller dîner à Venise. «Finissons
cette fête improvisée par l’amour, dit-elle à son ami, en prenant un
léger repas qui nous permettra d’attendre les ombres propices du
soir. Trempons encore une fois nos lèvres dans ce vin généreux à qui
je dois le premier instant de bonheur que j’aie goûté dans ma vie.
Toi qui es savant, continua-t-elle en appuyant ses bras sur les
épaules de Lorenzo, dis-moi donc si ce vin exquis n’est pas la liqueur
consacrée à Vénus. Je ne sais plus où j’ai lu que l’île de Chypre avait
appartenu autrefois à la blonde fille de Jupiter, qui ne l’a cédée aux
Vénitiens qu’à la condition d’être toujours dévoués à son culte
charmant. Voilà pourquoi, assure-t-on, elle est si souvent chantée
par nos poëtes et nos musiciens; voilà pourquoi il n’y a pas un
peintre de Venise qui n’ait reproduit plusieurs fois sur la toile le type
radieux de la mère des plaisirs.»
 On fit servir un dîner substantiel et délicat; puis l’on attendit
ainsi, entre de joyeux propos et des brindisi provoquants, que les
heures du jour eussent entièrement disparu derrière l’horizon qui se
couvrait peu à peu de teintes plus adoucies.
La nuit s’approchait en effet avec son cortége d’étoiles d’or, qui
scintillaient au firmament, comme pour l’éclairer dans sa course
mystérieuse; un léger zéphyr sillonnait les vagues et poussait hors
de Venise un essaim de gondoles qu’on voyait s’ébattre au milieu de
la mer, chargé de gentildonne et de cavalieri qui venaient respirer la
fraîcheur du soir. Des bruits divers, des éclats de voix, le salut joyeux
qu’échangeaient entre eux les mariniers, les cloches de Murano et
des îles voisines qui disaient au jour un mélancolique adieu, tout cela
disposait l’âme au plus douces contemplations. Accoudés à la fenêtre
du camerino, Lorenzo et Vicentina admiraient ce spectacle sans dire
un mot, laissant leur esprit errer à l’aventure et s’emplir de rêves
féconds. Cependant les ombres grandissaient et couvraient la mer
d’une obscurité moins transparente, les bruits s’éteignaient comme
des dissonances à l’approche d’un accord qui les résout en les
absorbant, et le calme de la nuit succéda enfin aux efforts du jour.
Pendant ce court intervalle d’une obscurité complète qui sépare le
soir de la nuit sereine, au milieu du recueillement qui précède le
réveil des plaisirs, la lune apparut discrètement aux bords de
l’horizon, élargissant peu à peu son disque argenté, comme une
divinité coquette qui aurait voulu s’assurer qu’aucun astre jaloux
n’épiait sa course vagabonde. Alors, du fond de la mer qui présentait
à l’œil la transparence et les contours d’un lac paisible, on entendit
s’élever de différents côtés des concerts de voix et d’instruments qui
se mêlaient, s’entre-croisaient et se répandaient dans l’espace et le
silence en bouffées sonores d’un charme infini. On ne distinguait
d’abord que quelques syllabes mieux accentuées que les autres dans
ce murmure harmonieux qu’on aurait dit être l’écho lointain d’une
fête prestigieuse. Étaient-ce les Muses qui, assises en cercle dans la
voûte céleste, faisaient entendre cette harmonie des sphères qui
ravit Pythagore et le divin Platon, ou bien les Néréides avaient-elles
quitté leurs grottes profondes pour venir s’égayer à la surface des
flots? Non: c’était Venise, Venise tout entière qui voguait sur les
lagunes en chantant le bonheur de vivre et de respirer. Aussi, en
prêtant une oreille plus attentive à ce bourdonnement mystérieux,
on y discernait bientôt des rhythmes et des sonorités joyeuses qui
berçaient l’imagination, et lui ouvraient des perspectives moins
grandioses que charmantes. Des violons, des guitares et des
mandolines entremêlées de quelques instruments à vent jouaient
des symphonies, et les voix dialoguaient entre elles et se
répondaient d’une barque à l’autre de ces mots simples qui laissaient
sous-entendre plus de choses qu’ils n’en expriment: Vieni nice, viens
respirer le frais sur la lagune, la fresc, aura a respirar. Et ces paroles
heureuses d’une langue bénie s’envolaient des lèvres comme une
essence de poésie qui vous pénétrait d’une douce langueur.
Qu’est-ce donc que la musique et qu’exprime-t-elle? Est-ce un
désir, un pressentiment, la réminiscence d’une béatitude éprouvée,
ou bien l’intuition d’un avenir promis à nos espérances? Êtres finis
que nous sommes, pourquoi le fini ne nous suffit-il pas, et pourquoi,
au sein de la satiété et des plaisirs, quelques accords rustiques
entendus de loin nous font-ils tressaillir, et remplissent-ils notre âme
d’un trouble sans objet? En écoutant ce concert de la vie joyeuse, en
écoutant ces bruits, ces chants et ces mélodies limpides qui
semblaient glisser sur les vagues et s’y confondre avec les rayons de
la lune dont elles imitaient le tremolo mystérieux, en laissant errer sa
pensée à travers ces méandres d’étoiles qui peuplaient la profondeur
des cieux, Lorenzo fut saisi d’une vague mélancolie qui emplit son
cœur de rêves charmants. Oh! qu’il est doux de rêver ainsi au départ
de la vie et de se laisser bercer par de folles espérances! Elles sont
bien heureuses, les natures qui aiment à s’attarder le soir au coin
d’un bois ou sur une plage solitaire, à écouter le murmure de la
brise, à suivre le nuage qui passe, à interroger l’étoile qui brille, à se
perdre dans l’infini de leurs désirs et à se nourrir d’immortelles
chimères! les rêves d’or de la jeunesse se transforment en sources
de poésie où s’alimente l’inspiration des hommes supérieurs. Le
génie ne serait-il pas un rêve qui se perpétue, et le monde l’éclosion
d’un rêve divin?
 Une voix douce et sonore, qui s’épanouit peu à peu et s’éleva
comme un soupir au-dessus de ces bourdonnements joyeux, fixa
tout à coup l’attention de Lorenzo, et vint dissiper les fantaisies de
son imagination. Il écouta d’abord avec quelque distraction cette
voix dont le timbre pénétrant ne lui était pas entièrement inconnu;
mais à une note prolongée et pleine d’émotion qui retentit sur la mer
et traversa le silence comme une clarté fugitive, il se sentit tressaillir
à ce lamento d’une âme solitaire qui disait à la nuit: «O nuit,
prolonge ton cours et laisse-moi rêver encore! Que je ne voie pas,
que je ne voie jamais ce que tu caches peut-être sous ton ombre, et
emporte avec toi, si c’est possible, mes tristes pressentiments!»
A ce chant large et plaintif qui formait un si grand contraste avec
ce qui avait précédé, Lorenzo, se réveillant comme d’un long
sommeil, dit brusquement à la Vicentina: «Allons-nous-en, il ne fait
pas bon ici.
—Tu as raison mon ami, lui répondit-elle, il vaut mieux aller nous
mêler à ces joyeuses gondoles qui dansent là-bas au clair de la
lune.»
Je ne sais quel philosophe d’Alexandrie, Plotin, je crois, a
comparé la vie humaine à un concert de voix diverses qui s’élèvent
en même temps. Au milieu de ces bruits confus qui l’assaillent de
toutes parts, l’âme n’entend plus cette voix divine qui retentit au
fond de son être. Il lui faut résister au charme qui l’entraîne et
fermer quelquefois l’oreille aux sonorités du monde extérieur, pour
écouter le chant che nell’anima risuona. C’est ce chant de l’âme que
Lorenzo venait d’entendre à travers l’enivrement où il était plongé
depuis le matin.
Descendus dans la gondole qui les attendait au bas du petit
escalier de San-Stefano, Lorenzo et la Vicentina s’acheminèrent
lentement vers Venise. Le temps était magnifique, la lune éclatante,
et sur la mer endormie on voyait errer çà et là des barques
nombreuses qui se rapprochaient, s’éloignaient les unes des autres,
et se lutinaient comme des hirondelles qui rasent les flots et se
poursuivent de leurs gazouillements joyeux. C’étaient des éclats de
rire, des addio et des felice notte à n’en plus finir. Les gondoliers se
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