The World: The Exile Returns

When Constantine Caramanlis flew off to exile in Paris in 1963 after a stinging defeat at the polls, his departure from Greek politics reminded many of Charles de Gaulle’s huffy retreat to Colombey-les-Deux-Eglises after the French liberation. As one of his parting shots, the former Greek Premier told an audience, with more than a touch of Gaullist hubris: “The true political leader does not need the people. The people need the true political leader.”

In Paris, Caramanlis adroitly remained aloof from the day-to-day infighting of Greek politics, but he kept in close touch with developments in Athens and no one ever doubted that he was only biding his time until Greece would one day see fit to call him back. When the call finally came last week, he was both ready and willing. Even his old political opponents agreed that “Costa” Caramanlis was the only man who could rally the country behind him. Explained Constantine Mitsotakis, an exiled leader of the Center Union Party and one of his old opponents: “Caramanlis embodies the myth of the strong man who can be trusted.”

As Premier from 1955 to 1963, Caramanlis presided over the longest period of economic and political stability in Greece’s turbulent postwar history. Campaigning for reelection, he once boasted that he had “transformed Greece from an Oriental village to a European country.” He laid the foundations for Greece’s recovery from World War II —and the bloody civil war against Communist insurgents that followed—by stabilizing the drachma, bringing Greece into the Common Market as an associate member, and setting the country on a course toward industrialization. One of his proudest accomplishments was his participation in the 1960 treaty between Britain, Turkey and Greece that guaranteed the independence of Cyprus.

A man of rigorously logical mind, he speaks little, uses few adjectives, and is famous among associates for his often disconcerting habit of developing thoughts in half a dozen brief sentences and then refusing to say a word more.

“He is a lone wolf who does not make too many friends,” says his friend Helen Vlachos, an exiled Athens publisher now living in London. She adds: “Caramanlis is not, in the Greek way, familiar. But he knows exactly the character of the Greek people, and he knows how to make himself respected and obeyed.”

Greek friends attribute Caramanlis’ cool personality to the fact that he is not really a man of the Mediterranean but of sober northern Greece, where temperaments are less ebullient. The son of a Macedonian schoolteacher who died when Constantine was 18, he went to work to support the family, selling insurance to pay his way through law school in Athens. “Life was rough for us,” he later recalled. “I was determined to succeed in my studies to show my gratitude to my family, and to be able to defend people, peasants and shepherds, who were even more unfortunate than we were.” Years later as Premier, he pushed through legislation extending Social Security and old-age benefits to the country’s rural poor.

He was first elected to Parliament as a Conservative in 1935, but his political career ended temporarily the next year when Dictator loannes Metaxas shut down the legislature. Caramanlis regained his parliamentary seat after the war and held a series of Cabinet posts. When Field Marshal Alexander Papagos died in 1955, King Paul passed over a number of senior ministers to elevate Caramanlis from Minister of Public Works to Premier.

He quickly earned the nickname “the do-something Premier.” He could also be autocratic and hot tempered.

In 1963, already under attack because of persistent allegations of rigged elections and financial mismanagement, he angrily resigned in a dispute with the royal family over the respective powers of government and the throne. After a vacation abroad, he returned to run in the elections that fall, only to be defeated by the late George Papandreou, a moderate. Without even informing his party leaders, Caramanlis booked space under a false name and flew off to Paris, as he put it, “a very bitter man.”

Always an avid reader, Caramanlis spent the years of his exile attending lectures at the Sorbonne or visiting shows of classical art. His spacious apartment overlooking the Bois de Boulogne was a gathering place for artists, writers and politicians as well as daily visitors from home. To Greeks asking for his support in denouncing the military junta in Athens, he always replied: “I am not a politician now, so don’t come to me about political questions.” Nonetheless, he did not hesitate to issue an occasional broadside against the junta. Said one old friend last week: “Caramanlis was like a rock that the dictatorship was never able to erode.”

His style of leadership, Caramanlis likes to say, is to “pursue a left-wing policy with a right-wing government.” That may be the best clue as to how he will proceed in the perilous weeks ahead.