Cyprus has long been called Nisi Afroditi (“Aphrodite’s Island”), as the Greeks believed Aphrodite, the goddess of love, was born here. Despite this friendly moniker and the country’s rich culture, its history is scarred by wars, conflict and skulduggery. As a former Cyprus resident, I’d like to explore its past and present and share my perspective with you.

Given its geographic position between Greece, Turkey, Syria, Lebanon, Palestine (and latterly Israel) and Egypt, it is hardly surprising that the island of Cyprus has been regarded by conquerors as a strategic stepping stone for extending their territorial ambitions. Evidence reveals that its original inhabitants circa 10,000 BC were Hittites and Levantines from the area covering modern-day Anatolia, Syria, Lebanon, Israel and Palestine. Later invaders and rulers include Mycenaean Greeks (from 1400 BC-onwards), Phoenicians (9th century BC), Assyrians (744–609 BC), a succession of Persian imperial rulers (525–333 BC), Macedonians (Alexander the Great in 333 BC), Ptolemaic Egyptians (294–58 BC), Romans (30 BC–330 AD), Byzantines (330–1191 AD), Arabs jointly with Byzantines (650–965 AD), English and French Crusaders (1191), French Lusignans (1192–1489), Venetians (1489–1570), Ottoman Turks (1570–1878) and the British (1878–1960).

During British rule, the primary native Cypriots comprised Greek Orthodox Christians (approximately 78%) and Muslim Turks (approximately 18%), plus Christian minorities (eg Maronites, Armenians) and Jews. These groups were spread across the island in a patchwork of enclaves and villages that were either exclusively one community or were mixed. The Republic of Cyprus gained its independence on August 16, 1960, with Greece, Turkey and Britain as guarantors. The Treaty of Establishment was signed on December 12, 1960 by Sir Hugh Foot as British representative, Archbishop Makarios as Greek Cypriot representative and Dr. Fazil Kücuk for the Turkish Cypriots. The constitution requires a bicommunal unitary Republic with partial community autonomy and a presidential system, featuring a Greek Cypriot (GC) as president and Turkish Cypriot (TC) as vice president.

Within barely three years of the new Republic, the constitution had become dysfunctional. The TC minority made numerous claims that the GCs were short changing them on shared power. The minority further claimed that constitutional guarantees to protect them from discrimination and physical attacks by the GCs were being ignored.

This dispute rumbled on for years, with both sides becoming more defensive and polarized. An increasing number of violent attacks hit TC communities, especially in north Nicosia, from December 1963-onwards. Turkish residents of smaller or isolated villages fled to larger TC villages or other urban enclaves. As a student in London in the 1960s, I had several friends from both communities who would give me their side of the story, regaling me with their personal experiences of the hostilities.

One tale in particular sticks in my mind. As a teenager, Ergün lived in a TC village surrounded by GC villages. As part of his village’s civil protection system, the mukhtar (mayor) tasked him with a schedule of climbing the village mosque’s minaret to scan the horizon for marauding Greeks and raise the alarm if necessary. He was equipped with a firearm to fight off approaching enemies.

With a big laugh, Ergün finally disclosed that the firearm was, in fact, an old farmer’s blunderbuss. His situation was absurd, given that the gun’s range would not have even reached the ground from his high-up position! Though an amusing tale, his dangerous reality was hardly funny.

Inter-community tensions and hostilities continued into the 1970s. Nationalist extremists rose on both sides. Those among the TCs had links with counterparts in Turkey while those on the GC side linked up with supporters in Greece. This was especially true for Ethniki Organosis Kyprion Agoniston B (EOKA-B) extremists demanding enosis — a movement of Greek communities outside Greece to have their regions incorporated into the Greek state. The GC side included army units stationed in Cyprus by the ruling military junta in Greece.

On July 15, 1974, armed EOKA units and Greek army elements collaborated with the GC Cypriot National Guard to stage a coup d’etât against the government of President Makarios III. This was a means to destroy the bicommunal constitution, impose an exclusively GC government and secure enosis. Fearing a wholesale massacre of the TCs, Turkey (as a guarantor signatory to the Republic) launched a blitzkrieg invasion five days after the coup started.

My neighbor in Cyprus, who was a senior British military policeman in 1974, told me about his role in the conflict. He personally was tasked to protect Makarios from capture, assassination or injury, primarily by the coupists rather than the Turks. According to him, they dressed up the president as an old village woman with a headscarf and drove him in a British military convoy into a sovereign military base west of the city of Limassol.

The GC coup failed and mainland Greek forces never intervened. Turkish forces captured roughly one-third of the island. Their claimed territory covered the north down into the capital of Nicosia, northeast down to Famagusta on the island’s southeast coast as well as to the British sovereign base of Dhekelia and its Aghios Nikolaos outstation. A United Nations-brokered ceasefire line — called the Green Line buffer zone — was established; it remains to this day.

For over 12 years, I lived in the village of Oroklini on the GC side, barely four kilometers from the Green Line running through the next villages of Pyla (Pile) and Trouilloi. The ongoing, unresolved territorial dispute became known as the Cyprus Problem (sometimes shortened to “Cyprob”).

The TC leaders were frustrated by numerous failed attempts to reach a peace deal and some form of workable federal bicommunal Republic, where the GC and TC communities would be equal citizens. So in November 1983, they formally declared an independent state of the Turkish Republic of North Cyprus (TRNC).

Under international law, the entirety of the island is within the Republic of Cyprus. Thus, aside from Turkey, TRNC is not officially recognized by other states. A number of countries, including Pakistan, Iran, Azerbaijan, other states of the Caucuses and several Central Asian Republics, do have close cultural, trade, educational and often visa-free travel ties with TRNC.

While TRNC has had most of the functioning elements of government for over 40 years, it has been bankrolled, economically supported and politically dominated by Turkey. However, over the past decade, there has been a massive inward investment from private individuals and companies in Israel, Lebanon, the Gulf states and Iran, as well as Turkey and Russia. These have transformed the economy and built environment.

The Cypriot character

The 50-year intractability of the Cyprob shows a great deal about the character of Cypriots. Over the past 25 years, both sides have engaged in political posturing and rhetoric about achieving an enduring solution, and have participated in an endless series of UN-mediated talks and negotiations. Yet they have found every excuse imaginable to withdraw. Their defining characteristics are stubbornness and a compulsion to secure total partisan victory and globally recognized justice at all costs.

As my Cypriot lawyer once observed, “Ah, Alan-mou, you British are so sensible when you weigh up the pros and cons of taking legal action. All my Cypriot clients are hell bent on their day in court! They really do believe that venting their indignation in court will guarantee them a well-deserved just outcome for all the world to see. Regrettably, it is rarely so. Einai megalo diskolo [it’s a big problem]. They fail to recognize that the other party also has rights and maybe a good case and that compromises and trade-offs may be required. They refuse to accept that getting 80% of something is better than getting 100% of nothing.” So far, both sides in the Cyprob dispute have obtained the latter.

Despite such obstinacy, the hostility between them has markedly declined over the past 25 years. They have developed a healthy modus vivendi — an agreement for conflicting parties to coexist peacefully. GCs and TCs tend to regard themselves as Cypriots first and foremost, and value their shared heritage. Although they acknowledge a vague fealty to their respective ancestral origins — Greece and Turkey, respectively — Cypriots tend to trust their Cypriotness first. They back away from any perceived diktats or interference from the capitals of Athens or Ankara.

Official crossing points over the Green Line first opened up in 2003. There are now nine. The nearest to my house was in the next village of Pyla (Pile); it provides the most scenic rural route up to north Nicosia, then across the Pentadaktylos Mountains and down to Kyrenia (Girne) and its picturesque harbor surrounded by quayside restaurants. Looking down on Kyrenia from the north slopes of the Pentadaktylos is the village of Bellapais. Its name means “beautiful land” in its original Italian, and sure enough, it is home to an old abbey from the Venetian era. Bellapais (Beylerbeyi) was also the home of famous English author Lawrence Durrell, and the site where he wrote his acclaimed novel, Bitter Lemons of Cyprus.

Opposite the abbey is the Tree of Idleness corner. Legend suggests that countless writers and others who sat under a 200-year-old robinia tree here were overcome with a soporific lack of motivation. Today, the Tree of Idleness Restaurant is the legend’s legacy.

From my many visits, I can attest to the restaurant’s good food and hospitality. On one occasion, it was closed for a private party: the annual dinner and awards ceremony of a wrestling and martial arts society. Yet the maître d’ found a spare table and invited me in, provided I did not mind sharing the private party’s menu. Mind? Of course not! It was a wonderful evening with great cuisine, Kavaklidere red wine, Efes beer, raki and a cabaret, plus socializing with Turkish wrestlers!

Readers may have noticed that most Cypriot towns and villages have multiple names: one Greek, one Turkish and sometimes one English. The capital, known outside Cyprus by its English name of Nicosia, is Lefkosia to the GCs and Lefkosha to the TCs. The eastern city known as Famagusta in English is Ammochostos to the GCs and Gazimaguza to the TCs. Road signs may chop and change between all versions, which can confuse inexperienced foreigners.

Every day, many TCs travel across the Green Line to work or trade in the GC-controlled south. Meanwhile, GCs travel across to the TRNC area for leisure and to purchase cheap commodities. On weekends, GCs head up to Kyrenia in droves to gamble in the casinos there, which are more numerous and lightly controlled compared to the stricter regulation in the south.

Cyprus’s split population totals some 1.36 million. Approximately 933,500 people live in the Republic controlled by the GCs, which covers the southern two-thirds of the island. The rest dwell in the breakaway TC-controlled northern third. Additionally, the summer period from early April to late October sees another four million tourists temporarily swell the population by over 500,000 per month in the GC-controlled area alone. Foreign tourists also arrive in the TRNC via the Erjan (Tymbou) international airport near north Nicosia.

A culture of warmth and pleasure

Present-day Cypriots reflect their rich heritage, not only genetically, but culturally and linguistically. For example, the GCs in the Republic-controlled south still officially use Turkish terms and concepts from the Ottoman period. Some examples include the aforementioned mukhtar for the local mayor, donum for a measure of land and kochan or gotchan for a title deed.

There is a distinctly cosmopolitan feel about Cyprus, mainly owing to the broad spectrum of foreigners who are either residents, tourists or business visitors. Cypriots are relatively sophisticated and as up-to-date with technology, business and social trends as any developed European nation. Yet, paradoxically, the Cypriot culture is essentially that of a big village, with all the parochial characteristics that implies. The GCs even have a descriptive word for it: choriatiki, derived from the Greek word chorio (village). Everyone in a village seems to be somehow related to the next person and to others in neighboring villages or beyond. Foreigners often forget the close-knit familial links; many have incurred displeasure when they criticized a particular Cypriot, unaware that the listener is his/her relative.

Cypriots are highly sociable people. Strangers exchange greetings in the street, just like they did in my childhood village in England during the 1950s and 1960s. They enjoy being with people and talking a lot. They call each other mou, eg Alan-mou (“my Alan”) or fili mou (“my friend”), as a term of endearment. When sitting at a table chatting to someone, they touch the other person’s forearm as a sign of trust and affection.

To Cypriots, time is an elastic concept — ignoring timetables, schedules and deadlines a part of etiquette. After all, why rush and get stressed when having a chat and a metrio or sketo coffee in the kafeneon or taverna is much more pleasant? “Siga-siga!” (“Slow down!”) the GCs say, while the TCs invoke, “Yavash-yavash, rahatlamak!” (“Slow down, relax!”)

In Cyprus, a stop into the local taverna (coffee shop) for a half-hour of relaxation is a daily ritual for locals and expat foreigners alike. In the summer months, al fresco tables and chairs under awnings or umbrellas offer a welcome respite from the blazing sun and daily bustle. Every year, the country enjoys up to 340 days of sunshine and, in the June–September period, temperatures may reach 40–45 degrees Celsius (104–113 degrees Fahrenheit). When I lived there, it was almost a guarantee that I could sunbathe from the end of January to mid-November.

Cypriot friendliness and hospitality are legendary. In a GC establishment, friends, acquaintances and servers typically greet new arrivals, even strangers, with a welcoming “Kalimera, fili mou! Eistai kala?” (“Good day, my friend! Are you okay?”) This person may then reply, “Eimai kala, efcharisto poli,” (“I’m good, thanks a lot,”) or perhaps “Etzi-getzi” (“So-so”) or “Beninda-beninda” (“50/50”).

In TC establishments, the call would be, “Günaydin, hoshgel deniz! Iyi misin?” (“Good day, welcome! Are you okay?”). A positive response would be, “Tashaköl, ben iyiyim. Tchok mamnoun.” (“Thanks, I’m fine. Much obliged.”) If you are not feeling on top form, you might reply, “Shül-e bül-e, yari-yariya” (“So-so, 50/50”).

Incredible nightlife and weddings

Cypriots like to party but they tend to start late. Bouzoukias (tavernas with live bouzouki music, more of a nightspot than simply a taverna) rarely start to fill up before 9:30 PM. Spontaneous Greek dancing starts around 10:30 PM or once enough alcohol has been consumed. It may last for hours, going well beyond midnight.

The sound of a well-played bouzouki is spell-binding. Everyone is invited, even expected, to join in. One of the most enthralling dances is the mono dance, which involves a single dancer watched by gathered patrons. The irregular dance steps and moves are beyond description but take great skill to perform. I spent years trying to understand it. Then one day, a Cypriot confided that the mono dance’s other name is the “drunkard’s dance.” This name is spot-on!

Despite that nickname, it is rare to see Cypriots get drunk. Unlike some northern Europeans, they do not descend on hostelries to get rip-roaringly intoxicated. Locals do consume beer, but tend to imbibe more wine and the local zivania spirit — a beverage similar to the Italian grappa (a clear, grape-based alcohol similar to vodka). I can attest to the fact that zivania is not for the fainthearted. I can hold my own with tequila but getting inebriated on zivania once was enough for me!

The smoking of tobacco products is now officially banned in all enclosed bars, restaurants, tavernas, nightclubs and similar establishments throughout the Republic including TRNC-controlled areas. During the seven summer months (May–November), patrons can sit outside; smoking is widely allowed in such al fresco areas. As a cigar smoker, I welcome this dispensation. Police raids are very infrequent in villages, and some establishment owners may turn a blind eye to indoor smoking.

When it comes to parties, my wife and I agree that nothing competes with a full-on Greek wedding, especially a traditional “village wedding.” Typically, the whole village and beyond are invited to the reception. This can easily amount to 500–1,000 people and sometimes many more. When our mukhtar’s son married, the family had to hire a special stadium miles away that could accommodate the 2,500 guests and catering facilities.

Many weddings are held in special wedding halls. There is no dress code, so some guests wear tuxedos, others casual clothes and even work garb. I vividly recall a brawny male guest at one wedding who was in well-worn denim dungarees with his shirt sleeves rolled up, making him look like a farm worker who had just gotten off a tractor! He walked back from the buffet to his table carrying a piled-up plate of food in one hand and three large bottles of Keo beer between the fingers of his other hand. These celebrations attract all types! This behavior was totally acceptable, but still provided conversation for the other chattering guests. The “anything goes” nature of Greek wedding receptions is always wonderful.

Cypriot enterprise culture

Another Cypriot characteristic is business acumen and a high prevalence of entrepreneurship, from small to large businesses. Today, these are typically in the broad spectrum of tourism, including hotels, restaurants, bars and travel; real estate, including developers, contractors, sales agents and rental agents; retailers of all description, and agriculture. Professional, business and IT services, both within Cyprus and regionally, also flourish.

Cyprus has long been a location for registration of marine fleets from around the world. I got to know representatives from most of these sectors, including some high-profile individuals. Some became my good friends.

The enterprise ethos does, however, mask a more difficult characteristic of a minority of participants, whether private business people or public servants. While most Cypriots are law-abiding and try to conduct themselves with integrity, some are less scrupulous and adopt a “what can we get away with?” attitude. This comes at a cost to customers and clients, as well as society and the economy as a whole. These rogues believe that they are entitled to enrich themselves or gain unfair advantage by questionable if not unlawful means.

Such miscreants exist in every country, but in Cyprus they have developed fraud and corruption into an art form. Fraud is widely regarded not as a “real” crime, but as a game and battle of wits. Even government ministers and attorney generals have referred to it by the quaint, minimalizing term, “cheating.” This implies that even when vast sums of money have been defrauded, it is only a trivial matter — just a bit of naughtiness by lovable scallywags. Unfortunately, few are truly lovable, and this bad minority has a disproportionate impact on the country.

The social attitude towards fraud and corruption is summed up by the typical reaction Cypriots have when challenged on the subject: “Afti einai i Kypros. Stin Kypro, ola einai pithana” (“This is Cyprus. In Cyprus, anything is possible”), coupled with a shoulder shrug and a knowing look. They imply that a person’s objectives can still be reached using corruption if more honest attempts have failed.

When the Council of Europe’s Groupe d’États Contre la Corruption (GRECO) anti-corruption body initially reviewed Cyprus in 2005, its report found that senior government representatives were in flat denial that corruption even existed in Cyprus. Since then, successive GRECO reports, including the latest report (2023–2024), suggest that authorities have made some progress in combating corruption but still have some way to go.

Over the past 20 years, Cyprus has seen huge scandals involving fraud and corruption. One of the most pervasive and notorious was the Cyprus Property Fraud and Title Deeds Scandal. I wrote a whole section on it, including seven case studies, in my 2013 book, Corporate Risk and Governance. By 2008, over 30,000 properties fully purchased by an estimated 60,000 foreign buyers had not been issued with title deed transfers after five years. Mine took eight years to obtain, and some have taken over 30!

From 2007 to 2016, I contributed to the Cyprus Property Action Group (CPAG), led by Denis O’Hare and Nigel Howarth. This organization fought to bring justice to thousands of mainly foreign buyers of residential real estate in Cyprus who had been scammed. CPAG lobbied in Cyprus, the UK and in the European Parliament for changes to and enforcement of legislation concerning property purchases in the Republic of Cyprus.

Additionally, many buyers had lost their invested money to one of at least 12 categories of fraud perpetrated by developers, agents or lawyers, aided and abetted by corrupt officials. So many property fraud cases were reported to police that, by 2009, the Attorney General decreed that property fraud was no longer a criminal offense. Therefore, the police would no longer take reports from defrauded buyers who instead would have to raise their own cases in civil court.

Cyprus authorities, banks and lawyers often assert that Cyprus law closely follows English law, including property law. As I noted, “It is puzzling why property crime has been singled out for this dispensation. Why not also for murder, rape, robbery or blackmail? Why are long-winded civil cases forced on property victims before a criminal investigation is allowed, even when strong prima facie evidence of a crime exists? A perverse parody of English law appears to be acted out.”

The Cyprus Financial Crisis of 2013 escalated things. It involved the collapse of Marfin Laiki Bank, the country’s second-largest bank; the near collapse of the Bank of Cyprus, the country’s largest bank, and the near bankruptcy of the government. The crisis was precipitated largely by the property market debt bubble and financial mismanagement by the banks and government. In order to get an emergency bailout by the EU, the European Central Bank and the IMF (dubbed The Troika), the government had to enforce stringent and radical change requirements for numerous practices. These included corporate governance, banking practice, due diligence, loan applicant background checks, non-performing and delinquent loans recovery, foreclosure and title deeds transfer.

Cyprus has made some advances. Title deeds issuance and transfer has seen process improvements, so its huge backlog has been reduced substantially. The policy of requiring a search certificate before transfer can proceed has reduced the level of hidden liens, earlier mortgages and encumbrances springing nasty surprises on innocent buyers. Nevertheless, Cyprus property expert Nigel Howarth agrees that unacceptable delays in title deed transfers still remain, as does the requirement for innocent buyers to pay for prior planning infringements. As he told me recently, “the ‘victim pays’ culture is embedded.” Corrupt practices involving state actors also continue to evolve.

Encouragingly, in 2014, a new Auditor General, Odysseas Michaelides, heralded a determination by authorities to clamp down on corporate and institutional fraud and corruption. As my December 2014 article for Financial Mirror reported, a whole bevy of individuals in public and private sector organizations suddenly found themselves charged with major crimes, convicted and receiving long jail sentences. There was then hope for justice in Cyprus after all.

Nevertheless, new cases have arisen. The most high profile one followed an Al Jazeera exposé in October 2020 of the Cyprus “passports for cash” scandal. This ongoing case eventually had eight indicted defendants, including former Transport Minister Marios Demetriades, awaiting trial in September 2024.

Michaelides’s anti-corruption success and personal style eventually became too much for the patricians of the Cyprus Establishment. In September 2024, he suddenly faced a barrage — or perhaps an orchestrated attack — of pious public criticism by politicians and state officials. They received backup from a Supreme Constitutional Court decision that he had abused his position, exceeded his authority and prejudiced due legal process by his media statements. Michaelides’s dismissal as Auditor General was publicly announced as a fait accompli. Moreover, the “passports for cash” trial suddenly “disappeared.” Recidivism and “sovereign corruption” are alive and well.

Cynics suggest the whole saga was engineered so the republic could slip back into its timeless, undisturbed, cozy and corrupt culture of yesteryear. This development does not bode well for Cyprus.

Shady characters, big and small

Among a Cyprus population of law-abiding citizens exists a minority cadre of what can best be described as shady characters. In addition to the white-collar crime proclivities described above, there are a few prominent gangsters running protection rackets, trafficking operations, money laundering and other well-honed criminal activities.

Arguably the most notorious gangster in recent times was Antonis Fanieros, who died in 2017. Tales of his activities became legendary. He seemed to revel in what he portrayed as a Robin Hood persona — he was “helping” ordinary citizens obtain some justice, as they allegedly could not rely on the police or courts to resolve their issues. His protection rackets around the city of Larnaca were well-known; several of my acquaintances who ran small businesses there paid up to avoid retribution.

I even met one of Fanieros’s enforcers. This man regularly visited one of my taverna haunts to check that nothing untoward was afoot. He was a pleasant, affable fellow who would sit at my table and chat. He was even a talented Greek dancer. But, I always watched my words and behavior, just in case!

Fanieros was so prominent that he tried to stand as a Member of Parliament. However, he failed to obtain the essential “good character” certificate from the police. Rather than landing a parliamentary position, he earned a public rebuke from the Police Chief for his audacity.

Even the innocent can sometimes fall foul of perceptions, as I once discovered at a wonderful mezedopoleon restaurant and nightspot in the village of Skarinou. The place was packed with Cypriots. I seemed to be the only anglos (Englishmen) in the place, but with my Cypriot friends around, I wasn’t at all nervous. The meze — a meal style consisting of small plates of various foods — served here was superb, the beer and wine were flowing and the live bouzoukia-style music had everyone in a good mood.

Once the meal was over, I noticed that some Cypriots at surrounding tables had lit cigarettes; this was customary. So, enjoying cigars as I do, I lit up a Cuban decimos cigar and started to puff contentedly. I became aware that several patrons at other tables were looking at me with slightly anxious expressions. Were cigars not allowed? Was I smoking in a non-smoking zone? What was the problem?

One of my companions explained: “It’s not the cigar that’s the problem. It’s you and the way you are smoking it. With several scars on your face and close-cropped hair, you look quite tough. And you hold your cigar like someone out of a gangster movie. They probably think you are one of the Limassol Russian mafioski [mafia member]. They are wondering why you’re here and if there’s going to be trouble.”

Me? I wouldn’t hurt a fly. I love Nisi-mou Afroditi too much.

[Lee Thompson-Kolar edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.