Jessica Bateman - 'Their ideas had no place here': how Crete kicked out Golden Dawn
Crete suffered a lot from the Nazis. We tried to remind people what had happened before. “Our philosophy is that you never let the far right get hold of public space,” says Konstantinos (not his real name), a militant anti-fascist in his early 20s. “In warmer countries like Greece, public space is where the working class spends their lives. Wherever fascists are present, you have to make your presence felt too.”
Washing hangs from the
balconies of an unassuming apartment block on Irodotou street in Heraklion, the
capital of Crete. Outside, children ride bikes and old men play cards in a
coffee shop. But before May this year, this building looked rather different. A
sign hung outside reading: “Golden Dawn, Heraklion region”. The
ultra-nationalist, far-right Greek party used this street as its local base.
It was local teachers
who first spotted its influence. “Two of my 13-year-old students had family
problems,” recalls Maria Oikonomaki, 50. “Golden Dawn approached them in cafes
and the gym, presenting themselves as family and protectors. They took them for
coffee and gave them lessons on Greek history.” Then came the
violence, including the
stabbing of two Pakistani workers. “I thought to myself: ‘My god, what is
happening in this neighbourhood?’” says Oikonomaki. Despite the attacks,
Golden Dawn might have kept its foothold in Heraklion – or dug in deeper –
had the city’s residents not decided to fight back.
Golden Dawn was formed
in 1980 and remained a fringe party until Greece’s devastating financial crisis
started in 2009. As faith in the major political parties ebbed away, Golden
Dawn’s narrative of a once-great nation ruined by immigration struck a chord
with some disillusioned voters. As well as becoming the
third-largest party in the Greek parliament, it also established a
street-based paramilitary wing that regularly
attacked immigrants and political opponents. “Because [Golden Dawn] is a grassroots movement,
local support is fundamental to its success,” says Daphne Halikiopoulou,
associate professor at Reading University and Golden Dawn expert.
“It targeted areas where it knew it could build a good presence, and expanded
its organisation significantly.”
The area it chose in
Heraklion was the eastern suburb of Nea Alikarnassos. A working-class
neighbourhood, it has a long history of immigration from Asia Minor and
eastern Europe.
Many residents are employed in construction and lost their jobs during the
crisis. Golden Dawn quietly opened its office here in 2011. Crete’s anti-fascist
movement initially struggled to fight back.
“Our philosophy is
that you never let the far right get hold of public space,” says Konstantinos
(not his real name), a militant anti-fascist in his early 20s. “In warmer
countries like Greece,
public space is where the working class spends their lives. Wherever fascists
are present, you have to make your presence felt too.”
So, when they found
out about the new office, Konstantinos and other activists arranged a
neighbourhood assembly. “There was a general consensus that people didn’t want
Golden Dawn in the area,” he says, “but not enough people came to support the
assembly. We realised we couldn’t have a presence in the area all the time. We
tried to keep an eye on them, but there wasn’t much we could do.” In September 2012,
everything changed. In a crime that shocked the country, the prominent
anti-fascist rapper Pavlos Fyssas was murdered on Golden Dawn’s
orders. Huge protests broke out and 69 members of the party, including its
leader, Nikolaos Michaloliakos, and 18 MPs, were arrested and charged
with running a criminal organisation. Their trial is ongoing.
“Before this, a lot of
people had the attitude of ‘We do not fear Golden Dawn, we just need to educate
them’,” says Haris Zafiropoulos, a 27-year-old activist with New Left Current, a coalition of left-wing groups... read more:
