ONE question has been puzzling me. Why did it prove virtually impossible to get a ‘no’ supporter to change his/her mind, despite the fact that none of the ‘no’ arguments at the end of the day stood up to logical scrutiny? Not the ones about the settlers, nor the ones about the economy, nor the ones about the refugees, nor even the ones about the Turkish army and guarantees.
Equally, why was it that the ‘yes’ camp were so unperturbed by the ‘no’ fears? Why didn’t they mistrust Turkey, worry that the system of 24/24 in the Senate would bring about a stalemate, or balk at the possibility of economic collapse? Why were they so blithely willing to take these risks?
I believe I have found the answer. It is all a question of vision. People who voted ‘yes’ had a clear and positive view of what the future in a reunited country could hold. Those who chose ‘no’ had no such vision. All they saw was their fears and stopped short.
At the heart of the April 24 referendum was change. Here we were, peacefully getting on with our lives, when suddenly we were asked to take a decision, one that could change everything, one that would have a profound effect on our existence, our careers, our livelihoods, our safety, one that would alter the course of our history. We were being asked to vote for change.
Any change is hard. Everything you give up hurts. The most trivial of changes disturbs us. Changing bank, switching dentist, moving into a new home, seeing a friend off at the airport. These are small losses, easily overcome. The bigger ones are harder, especially to let go of deliberately – a marriage, a job, a child, a habit. In our case a system of government. Faced with that pain we cling harder, worrying that we will regret it, worrying that we may be making a mistake. Every person confronted with change eventually has to come to terms with this reality – change requires letting go of the status quo, with all the sweet rewards sprinkled through its stifling limits. That loss hurts.
The more comfortable our current state the more difficult change is. It’s all very well when life forces us to change, but what happens when we need to force change of our own free will, as we were asked to do?
Two reasons make us go for change – because we are suffering where we are and/or because we hunger for something better. That’s pretty much it.
Perhaps Greek Cypriots will only be ready to embrace change when they start to feel the pinch, when it becomes clear to them that the effects of staying as we are, are worse than the effects of their fears. By then the bird may have flown.
Far better for them to realise that the status quo is unsatisfactory and to instigate change now.
But most ‘no’ supporters didn’t realise this. They allowed themselves to be lulled into a false sense of security that it’s OK to stay as we are. They preferred to be stuck in the safety of the past, railing against the wrong that was the Turkish invasion than to face up to the fact that Republic of Cyprus is a comfort zone that was not really comfortable.
All comfort zones come with an invisible electric fence around them – anxiety. If you avoid pushing your own limits you will be cheerfully oblivious of that fence, but stretch out past your zone and you will get a jolt. The referendum suddenly forced us all to come up against that fence. The difference between the yeses and the nos is that the yeses could see clearly that there was something they wanted on the other side, while the nos did not. They came up against their fears and turned back.
In order to achieve change and get past the electric fence of fear, you need to have a vision. You need to see clearly where you want to go in order to have the impetus that you need in order to get out of your current state. ‘Yes’ voters saw it. Their vision was positive. They were unconcerned by all the ‘problems’ that the people who supported ‘no’ put forward, because they were confident their vision could propel them forward to overcome any glitches. They were confident that they could make the United Cyprus Republic work. What gave them this confidence was their desire to make it work.
The failure of the ‘yes’ campaign was that they didn’t manage to convey their vision. Instead they allowed themselves to be embroiled in countering the petty ‘no’ arguments, an exercise that turned out to be futile. No amount of arguing or trying to alleviate their fears could make the nos change their mind. Nor did they ever force the ‘no’ people to spell out what they wanted. What was their vision? They had none. Where was a ‘no’ vote leading us? They hadn’t thought it through. Only once throughout the campaign was the President confronted with this question and this by a Greek journalist from Mega Greece, who asked him exasperated, “What exactly do you want?” He squirmed visibly and could not say. All he could do was play on people’s fears.
So where do we go from here? Will fear always hold us back for ever? How do you get past fear? First, I suppose, you have to recognise it. You have to recognise that whatever the object of your fear, the fear itself resides in you. And that means you can manage it. Whatever you fear – the Turks, the economy, change itself – your obstacle is the fear itself and that fear belongs to you. Fear only goes away when you face the thing you’re afraid of. For two reasons – first because you face it, so it isn’t looming any more, second, because you have proved to yourself that you can handle it.
Perhaps what needs to happen now is that people must be made to face their fears. They need to meet Turkish Cypriots. Work with them. Party with them. Quarrel with them. Meet the settlers, give them jobs, realise they are people too, with families, children, mouths to feed, with hopes and dreams. Listen to the statements that come from Turkey and be convinced that the government there has changed. That times have changed. The sixties are long gone.
Above all people must learn what federation truly means so they can all embrace that vision. They must learn that it does not mean the majority imposing their will on the minority. But that it does mean listening to the minority and finding solutions that will suit both. Only then will they realise that this can be done, it’s not so hard, it won’t be a disaster. We have it in us. Only then will they share the vision and the mentality that the ‘yes’ supporters already have.
In March 2002 in the US, a 500kg cow escaped a slaughterhouse by jumping a 10-foot wall. The cow then enjoyed the Ohio countryside for 11 days until animal control personnel were able to recapture her. When they did, they awarded the cow the keys to the city, and she was retired to live out her days at an animal reserve. Accepting those keys on behalf of the cow, the artist Peter Max said: “After all, at one time or another we have all leapt some 10-foot wall.”
In April 2004 in Cyprus, one in four Greek Cypriots jumped their own personal 10-foot wall. Did you? And if not, will you demand a second chance?
