Walking down the street in central Nicosia where Androulla Vassiliou has her home (when she’s in town, which isn’t very often), I glance around, wondering which one is hers. My money’s on a house with a tall hedge and green plastic fence – a fittingly discreet, dignified dwelling for a former First Lady of Cyprus, former MP and current European Commissioner for Education, Culture, Multilingualism and Youth – but in fact, to my surprise, No. 9 is a wide-open two-storey house where a random woman (a neighbour, it turns out) is airing out the place on a Saturday morning, and points to a side-door when I ask about the Commissioner.
The house is a reflection of the woman, who’s also surprisingly open and approachable. She sits in her living-room, a spry 69-year-old in a simple fuchsia top and grey jacket, a cross around her neck providing the only glint of jewellery, and answers questions with a candid expression. The face is somewhat generic, without any prominent features – but bright and lively, with a ready smile. What she says is also generic – especially on the subject of the EU – but it’s the way she says it that makes an impression. I dislike interviewing politicians (I suspect most reporters feel the same) because they’re so unshakeably ‘on message’, twisting every question to promote their current agenda – but Androulla isn’t like that. Her replies are crisp, clear and honest (or at least they sound honest). The only problem, if it is a problem, is her naturally sunny disposition, ensuring that everything gets wrapped in a coating of can-do optimism.
The sunny vibe only goes so far, of course. Her time as First Lady – her husband George Vassiliou was President from 1988 to 1993 – seems a bit ambivalent (does she have good memories? “Interesting memories,” she replies carefully), and she’s scathing about the “20 years of prejudice and discrimination” she suffered as a lawyer in the 70s and 80s. Her application to become a judge was rejected, the all-male panel asking if she planned to have more children (she already had one, and now has three) and opining that “a woman judge on the bench expecting a child is not a good thing”. Nor was prejudice limited to the courtroom; “I experienced it with clients as well. When I advised them on something, they would say ‘OK, let me go and get another opinion’ – and the second opinion was always from a man, of course.”
Her response, however, was to do things, not just grumble and feel hurt. She was active in the women’s movement, has been President of the Cyprus Federation of Business and Professional Women since 1996 (she’s the kind of person who thrives on boards and committees) and is writing a book on the “development of women in the 20th century in Cyprus”, which she hopes to finish once her term as Commissioner expires in 2014. Similarly, as First Lady, “I think I changed the image of the First Lady, because up to that time Mrs Kyprianou was a very passive First Lady. Because of my background I wanted to be more proactive, so I started to do things for culture”. She created a Fine Art fund, organised seminars; “I did a lot in the social sphere, with the disabled and children with special needs. I participated in the first Radiomarathon. I accompanied many times our team to the Special Olympics abroad”. She even built a little theatre in the grounds of the Presidential Palace, prompting accusations of megalomania – but it was all from donations, she points out, a cloud passing briefly across her sunny demeanour, not a penny from public funds, “and of course both Mrs Clerides and Mrs Christofias [later] used that little theatre”.
Positive thinking and can-do spirit are in her genes. Her father – a big inspiration – went through four careers and rebounded after every setback (one might say he was at war with the history of Cyprus, losing a job in insurance due to an EOKA boycott and later a clothing factory to the Turkish invasion). He was also broad-minded and “very democratic”, making sure – though he wasn’t especially well-off – that both his daughters had a good education, even if Androulla’s first choice (to become a fashion designer) just wasn’t viable in the Cyprus of the 60s. Being a lawyer was a tolerable substitute though she’d already thought about quitting when her judge’s application was rejected, and then her time as First Lady – “my everyday contact with people, all sorts of people” – made her think for the first time about going into politics. She spent 10 years as an MP and was heavily involved in EU matters – including Cyprus’ accession – throughout, making her an obvious choice for Commissioner when Christofias came to power in 2008; I was “not at all a stranger when I arrived” in Brussels, she confirms.
She seems right for the job, for a number of reasons. First of all, her current portfolio is extremely wide-ranging, requiring a person with lots of positive energy. Second, she deals mostly in what might be called ‘soft power’ – European films, football, schools – so her bright, cheerful manner is appropriate. Above all, however, the EU is an arena where no politician can afford to be cynical. The so-called “European project” (like the so-called ‘American dream’) is one of those grand ideals that often sounds like a fairytale, yet must always be spoken of as if it were real, attainable and indeed self-evident. Especially now, in the midst of crisis and recession, EU politicians must be cheerleaders, speaking inspirationally of Europe – to quote Androulla – as “the tool for uniting people”.
She can do this, coming across as a true believer. We speak of the need to encourage “mobility” in young Europeans (right now, for instance, there are 40,000 unemployed engineers in Spain and 40,000 vacancies for engineers in Germany) and I note that perhaps the problem is the lack of any firm “European identity” – but she demurs. The Spaniards are perfectly happy to go to Germany, she says; the only problem is “language barriers” which can be solved with crash courses (one of her current initiatives).
Well then, I probe, does she herself feel Cypriot or European?
“Both,” she replies instantly; “One does not exclude the other”. National identity is central, but we also share values with other Europeans: “Democracy, rule of law, human rights…”
But what if we had to choose between our national and European identities? After all, she’s already made clear that, due to the recession, “without realising it we are coming to a closer union”. What if it comes to a choice between national sovereignty and a united states of Europe?
“I don’t think we’ll ever reach that point of having to choose between the two. And we don’t want people to lose their national identities. We don’t want that.” “Unity in diversity,” she adds sunnily, quoting the EU motto.
Yet it’s complicated. National identity, for instance, must be distinguished from nationalism. “Nationalism we should fight! I am against nationalism.” How does she define it? “Fanaticism,” replies Androulla. “I was surprised, for example, the other day when I saw APOEL fighting on behalf of Cyprus, and I didn’t see a single Cyprus flag… I respect my Greek nationality – my origin – but I feel at the same time that I am a Cypriot”.
So then how can education (her own department) handle situations like Cyprus, with Greek and Turkish nationalism forever lurking below the surface? Should we tell pupils about atrocities in the recent past? If so, should we mention both sides’ mistakes? Or would that create a false equivalence? “We don’t try to do that,” she replies firmly. “Because if we started this debate, for example, between the French and the Germans, or between the Flemish and Walloons – Europe would be split. And we don’t want that. We want to see which are the elements which unite
us.”
So we should just forget the past?
“No, we should not forget – and we should never let anybody destroy our memories. This is very important. But, at the same time, we have to see how we bridge our differences, in order to create a common future.”
That’s the problem with the “European project” in general. At some point, it starts to sound like a case of trying to have it all ways – yet Androulla Vassiliou keeps plugging away, fighting the good fight in meeting after meeting with her “hundreds of stakeholders”. Her agenda for the whole of 2012 is already laid down, ranging from the major European film festivals to Warsaw for the opening of Euro 2012 (Sport is also part of the portfolio) and London for the Olympics. This is also “EU-China Intercultural Year”, necessitating cultural exchanges and meetings with her Chinese counterpart, State Councillor Liu. Proposals must be drafted (Androulla wants a 73 per cent increase in the EU education budget for 2014-20), endless conferences attended, speeches made.
She’s on a four-day trip to Cyprus when we speak – our interview taking up a precious chunk of her Saturday morning – and I’ve gone online to have a look at her schedule for a typical day. “Visit to the Pallouriotissa Lyceum, Nicosia (10:00-11:30)”; “Meeting at the Pedagogy Institute in Latsia to discuss their new teacher training programmes funded by ESF (12:00-13:00)”; Meeting with parents’ associations for private schools at the EU Commission Representation (16:00-16:45)”; “Inauguration of Forum Private School in Nisou (18:15-20:00)”. On and on, from morning till night. “This is every day!” she notes wryly. “This is every day, 350 days a year.”
Does she find it pleasant?
“It is not – ” she hesitates. “Well, it doesn’t give me pleasure from the point of view of having fun. But it gives me pleasure because everything I do is something which matters”.
Only yesterday, she adds, she spent the whole morning at a school in Limassol. “For a Commissioner, that’s quite a lot – but it was so important to meet with these young people who felt very frustrated about their future, and for me to be there to assure them that no, your worry should be to get as much out of life as possible. Skills, knowledge, become mobile, get to know people, get to know other cultures! This will give you the skills that you need for the future. It was very, very encouraging for these young people – and they started clapping after I said that”. She smiles: “Everything matters. It’s something that you build from the bottom up.”
Androulla Vassiliou is nobody’s fool. “I am very proud of one characteristic that I have,” she muses at one point, “and my husband values very much this characteristic of mine. I’m very open, I’m very sociable, I’m very easy in communicating with people – but I’m [also] a very, very good judge of character. I can immediately, just from seeing somebody, understand what their motives are”. She won’t be taken in by yes-men or sycophants – yet, at the same time, her absence of cynicism doesn’t seem like a pose. She’s naturally extroverted, idealistic, open to experience, eager (as she told those Limassol pupils) to “get as much out of life as possible”.
Being a public figure suits her, yet in one way it doesn’t – because it leaves no time for herself, her own life, locking her in a prison (albeit a vital, highly stimulating prison) of constant engagement. “It’s a difficult life,” says Androulla, “and I must tell you something which is characteristic of the life of a Commissioner which is similar to the life of being the First Lady. You are always, always surrounded by people – yet, at the same time, you feel very lonely”. Then our time is up, and she’s on to the next meeting while I loiter, once again, on the street outside.
