Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, 1954-1959

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BRITAIN AND THE REVOLT IN CYPRUS, 1954-1959

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Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus 1954-1959

ROBERT HOLLAND

CLARENDON PRESS

OXFORD

This book has been printed digitally and produced in a standard specification in order to ensure its continuing availability

OXPORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

Great Clarendon Street, Oxford OX2 6DP Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University's objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide in Oxford New York Auckland Bangkok Buenos Aires Cape Town Chennai Dar es Salaam Delhi Hong Kong Istanbul Karachi Kolkata Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Mumbai Nairobi Sao Paulo Shanghai Singapore Taipei Tokyo Toronto with an associated company in Berlin Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries Published in the United States by Oxford University Press Inc., New York © Robert Holland 1998 The moral rights of the author have been asserted Database right Oxford University Press (maker) Reprinted 2002 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this book in any other binding or cover and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer ISBN 0-19-820538-4

Jacket illustration: A detail from 'Harding's Nightmare", painted in Cyprus by George Pol. Georghiou, 1957

For Jack


ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The author of a book as long as this one inevitably contracts many debts of gratitude along the way. I have received much assistance from librarians and archivists, notably in the Public Record Office of the United Kingdom at Kew, the Public Record Office of the Republic of Cyprus (whose Keeper, Mrs Effie Parparinou, gave me advice on her collection, and much else besides), the National Archives of the United States in Washington, the extremely hospitable Eisenhower Presidential Library at Abilene, Kansas (especially Mr Dwight D. Strandberg), Rhodes House Library in Oxford, whose then Librarian, Mr Alan Bell, afforded me advance access to the Cyprus Papers of Lord Caradon, the Library of the Institute of Commonwealth Studies in London, and the Library of the Archbishop Makarios III Foundation, which allowed me to use their newspaper collection in that cool and lovely archiepiscopal corner of Nicosia. I am indebted to the Academic Affairs Division of NATO which awarded me a Research Fellowship in 1991-2, allowing me to carry out extensive work in the United States and Cyprus during a sabbatical. The Central Research Fund of the University of London provided a small travel subsidy in 1993. The inclusion in this book of a set of fine photographs has only been possible through the generosity of Mr Constantine Leventis. I was immensely fortunate from almost my first day researching this topic in Nicosia to find a real 'home from home' in the Cyprus American Archaeological Research Institute (CAARI). To Stuart and Lena Swiny go thanks for introducing me, and for making CAARI what it is; thanks also go to Vathoulla Moutoukki for helping to keep it that way and for always finding a space for me even at short notice. The best thing about the writing of this book has been the genuine friendships which have lightened its burdens. Here I will only mention four people. Dr George Georghallides, the most accomplished historian of Cyprus in the period of British rule, gave me the benefits of his deep knowledge, but more than that he extended his vivid and forceful camaraderie; his wife, Joan, welcomed me constantly and warmly into her home. Diana and Sophocles Markides were from the first unstinting in their hospitality. From the former I obtained many insights into the peculiarities of Cypriot politics; from the latter I learned much about the nature and spirit of Hellenism; from them both I got much fun, and fresh air walking in the Troodos mountains. Tony Morris and Anna Illingworth of Oxford University Press were the ideal editors—supportive, patient, and always prompt with advice. Lastly, to Hillia, my wife, goes not only gratitude for that most up-to-date marital aid, 'computer support', but thanks for tolerating one of the less satisfactory human conditions: partnership with a writer whose mind was usually elsewhere, and who often was elsewhere. I hope this book will be some return not only to her, but to all those who have helped me in writing it. R.F.H. Wimbledon June 7997


CONTENTS

List of Illustrations and Map 1 The Pattern of Colonial Cyprus, 1878-1950

xi i

2 A Crisis of Trust, i February 1950-1 April 1955

20

3 'Terror Island', 2 April-3 October 1955

55

4 The Struggle for Mastery, 4 October 1955-9 March 1956

83

5 A Light in the Tunnel, 10 March-26 July 1956

120

6 The Sands of Goodwill, 27 July 1956-5 April 1957

144

7 Matters of Honour, 6 April-4 October 1957

182

8 A Time of Gestures, 5 October 1957-13 February 1958

213

9 A Choice of Evils, 14 February~3O June 1958

236

10 The Metaphysics of Partition, i July-4 December 1958

263

11 A Promised Land?, 5 December 1958-19 March 1959

295

12 Afterthoughts and Aftermaths

330

List of Sources

337

Bibliography

339

Index

341


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS (Plates between pp. ir6andii?)

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Sir John Harding meets Archbishop Makarios A British soldier stands guard during a house search A priest being frisked during a security operation Cypriots being taken away for interrogation Archbishop Makarios addresses a huge crowd in Athens Makarios arriving in Athens after his detention Sir Hugh Foot walking through Nicosia Scene in Nicosia street after the shooting of two British policemen The British Army guards the Greek and Turkish quarters in Nicosia Greek-Cypriots await the Archbishop's speech during his homecoming A Greek-Cypriot youth organization celebrates Makarios' return Colonel Grivas goes back to Athens

NB: All plates from Hulton Getty, except Plate 7 which is from Associated Press

MAP Map showing the deployment of the Security Forces in Cyprus on the declaration of a State of Emergency, 26 November 199 5. UK Public Record Office. Crown copywright material in the Public Record Office is reproduced by permission of Her Majesty's Stationery Office.

102-3


i

The Pattern of Colonial Cyprus, 1878-1950 Nicosia, 21 October 1931 At first the Greek crowd which gathered in the late afternoon around the tawdry premises of the Commercial Club was measured in a few hundreds.1 But as the news spread through the town that the Greek members of the Colony's Legislative Council had resigned in the wake of a row about the island's tiny budget, and the speeches became fiercer and more vivid, the numbers swelled to over three thousand. With people crammed inside the Club, leaning out of the balconies, and spilling over the veranda into the street, speaker after speaker railed against the injustices of British rule, and hailed the day when the English would depart and the Union (or Enosis) of Cyprus with the Mother Kingdom of Greece would be consummated. As the passions of the meeting rose to a climax, a priest mounted the makeshift platform and declared a revolution to be under way. Suddenly, somebody thrust a Greek flag— many were being held aloft, or draped over the jutting buttresses of the Club—into his hands, on which he proceeded to plant a dramatic kiss. Amidst renewed cheers some voices in the crowd shouted out that on the following day the Governor, Sir Ronald Storrs, was due to leave for England, and that he should be sent on his way with the demands of the island's population ringing in his ears. To repeated cries of 'To Government House, To Government House', the mass of protesters set out on the road towards the rather unprepossessing building which served as the symbol of British rule in Cyprus. As the dense procession wound its way towards its destination about a mile and a half distant, kicking up a pall of dust along Nicosia's barely made-up roads, its size increased still further as more of the capital's 22,000 inhabitants tacked themselves on to the column. The atmosphere was redolent of the Orthodox Christian festivals so characteristic of Greek life on the island, an impression heightened by the presence of many clerics, lifting their black skirts as they tried to keep up with the pace. But there was also a more threatening strain. Passing the Government timber-yard, the demonstrators helped themselves to sticks of various sizes, and uprooted the wooden tree-guards along the roadside. Armed in this rough-and-ready fashion, and with a motley apparatus of bicycles, lanterns, electric torches, huge banners, and blue-and-white flags of Greece, the concourse finally arrived at the entrance to the drive of Government House, its watered parkland a rare sight in such an arid town, shortly before 8 p.m. The following account is based on Governor Storrs' official dispatch on the riots, printed as Cmd. 4045, Disturbances in Cyprus in October igji (London, HMSO, 1932). The definitive secondary treatment is G. S. Georghallides, Cyprus and the Governorship of Sir Ronald Storrs: The Causes of the igji Crisis (Nicosia, 1985).

2

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The Cyprus Police soon learned that trouble was brewing, and a patrol was hurriedly dispatched to monitor what was happening. By the time the crowd appeared at the entrance to Government House eight foot-police carrying batons barred its progress, with five mounted officers drawn up behind the first of several gates. The advance portions of the intruders ground to a halt at this obstruction, but as the rearguard piled up those at the front were propelled against the thin police line. Sticks and stones began to be thrown and batons wielded, a feverish mood set in, and as the frightened horses stampeded, the demonstrators finally broke forward and poured up the drive. Their momentum carried them to within thirty yards of the house, where police reinforcements had regrouped, restraining what had now become a heated mob from invading the large circular terrace in front of the main building. For twenty minutes, with much milling about, this uneasy equilibrium was held, whilst a nervous colonial official ineffectually called on the citizens to disperse. But then, with an electric impulse, the ranks surged forward once more. With cries of 'Enosii rising above the general rumpus, and raucous demands that the Governor himself appear before them immediately, the advance guard scrambled across the terrace and right up to the doors of the residence. There they found themselves confronted by the nervous triumvirate of the District Commissioner of Nicosia, the Cyprus Colonial Secretary and the Chief Inspector of Police. Cooped up in his office within the long, warren-like arrangement of his residence, Governor Storrs urgently conferred with the Chief Commandant as to the use of troops to quell the outbreak. Eventually he sent a message that if the crowd withdrew to a 'respectful distance' he would invite one or two of its leaders in to see him, but given the fracas, Storrs' invitation—passed on through the District Commissioner—could only be heard by those standing on, or very close, to the porch itself. In the intervening hiatus some of the petitioners angrily denounced the Governor's failure to appear. Up to this point the mood had not altogether lost its air of carnival. Now an uglier edge made itself felt. Some bricks began to fly; the first windows were broken; soon somebody scrambled on to the roof of Government House and—triumph of triumphs—unfurled the Greek national colours. According to Storrs' later account forwarded to an aghast Colonial Office in London, the more moderate elements in the crowd, including those local notables who had initially put themselves at its head, drifted off as they began to fear the climax. Certainly, the proceedings had reached a point where the participants had either shamefacedly to turn on their heels, or press on regardless. As this collective decision was digested and resolved, those who remained split off into groups, threatening to disintegrate into noisy disarray, jeering and heaving rocks at the police vehicles which sped frantically up and down the single highway. Meanwhile, some forty armed police under a senior commander had been brought into Government House at 9 p.m. through a rear entrance. Soon afterwards the stone-throwing intensified; almost all the windows on the frontage were smashed, and the telephone equipment wrecked. A fresh police detachment arrived from an outlying station, but could only gain the safety of Government House by hurrying from their vehicles

Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, 1954-1959

3

under a barrage of debris. Although the doors of the residence were propped up by its defenders with bulky furniture, its besiegers—again helped by the proximity of the timber-yard—staved them in with logs roped together as a battering ram. A spluttering, lurid light was thrown on this scene by the torching of the Colonial Secretary's motor-car, along with a number of other abandoned Police vehicles. A Turkish Chief Inspector of Police requested permission to order his men to fire a single warning volley. At first the Commissioner, in operational control, refused, since in the poor light the only clearly visible targets were the youths whose boisterousness had led them to cluster in and around the porch; the bulk of the crowd, including the ringleaders doing most of the damage, kept to the shadows of the trees dotted about the terrace, from which occasional but determined sallies were being made. Shortly after 10 p.m. the incendiarism, however, spread from the gutted motor-vehicles to the house itself. The police had sought to protect the frontage, but had been driven back by missiles. Blazing wooden stakes were tossed through the shattered windows. After the failure of a last desperate attempt to disperse the crowd with a baton charge (quaintly described by Storrs as having been conducted 'according to King's Regulations'), the Commissioner yielded to the pressure of the police. A bugle was sounded; the Riot Act was hurriedly read out in English as a formality, and then its general sense shouted in Greek; the bugle sounded again; and finally a police rifle-party of twelve discharged a single round of shots. Seven men were wounded, and two collapsed to the ground (of whom one, a youth of eighteen years, later died). With confusion reigning, the police baton-charged again, this time to better effect. The crowd, stunned by the crack of the rifles, quickly broke up, scattering towards the town. Yet this success came too late to save Storrs' mansion. Almost simultaneously with the Police cannonade, the flames from the curtains on the west corner of the building spread to the roof; within seconds the conflagration had taken hold of the entire timbered structure; five minutes later—it was now not far off midnight—there was nothing left but a smouldering shell. There was in this spectacular outcome no diminution of the island's architectural heritage. When Lady Storrs had first approached Government House on her arrival with her husband in 1926, she mistook it for the stables.2 More personally distressing was the destruction of the collection of antiquities and objetsd'art which the Storrs had accumulated over thirty years in the Near Eastern world. During the days after 21 October the Governor, nevertheless, had little opportunity to worry about such a loss. The permanent military garrison in the Crown Colony of Cyprus consisted of only three officers and 123 men, for the most part stationed in the Troodos mountains to the west. If the outbreak in Nicosia spread to the other large towns, anarchy beckoned. Having escaped from the burning hulk of Government House to the Colonial Secretary's near-by Lodge, and after ordering the troops in Troodos to leave for the capital immediately, Storrs' first priority had been to telegraph the General Officer Commanding the British troops in Egypt for additional army units to be sent by air, and 2

Ronald Storrs, Orientations (London, 1937), p. 534.

4

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then to request the Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Fleet to provide an aircraft carrier or cruiser. By daylight on the 22nd the walls of Nicosia had been plastered with large notices in Greek announcing a curfew, and prohibiting assemblies of more than five persons. This did not prevent excited gatherings from forming inside the old walled town, but as troops arrived the exits from the city were effectively controlled and Government property (such as the vulnerable Secretariat) adequately protected. By noon on the 22nd it was possible for the harassed colonial authorities to turn some of their attention to the progress of disturbances outside Nicosia. At Larnaca, Famagusta, Kyrenia, Limassol (where the District Commissioner's residence was also burned down), and Paphos, trouble rumbled on into the early days of November; all British women and children were evacuated in a Khedivial steamship to Egypt. Perhaps most troubling of all for the Cyprus Government was the appearance of agents from the towns who toured the villages informing the populace that 'this is the end of the English period—this is the day of revolution and hurrah for Enosii. Yet for Storrs and his advisers it was not all bad news. The goodwill of the Muslim community, and that of the other minorities, such as the Armenians and Maronites, had not wavered during the disturbance. Above all, reinforcements from outside Cyprus gradually built up. HMS London appeared off Larnaca on the 23rd, and the Rear Admiral Commanding promptly landed marines at various points on the coast. Two days later HMS Colombo anchored off Famagusta, and put ashore further reinforcements. With air detachments arriving in penny packets from Egypt, and a flight of RAF day-bombers now on the scene to over-fly the villages, law and order was messily but in the end successfully restored. Restoring order was one thing, renewing battered prestige was quite another. The latter required something sterner. The Governor therefore decided to deport not only the alleged lay ringleaders of the outbreak, including two prominent Communists, but more significantly the Bishops of Kition and Kyrenia, although the evidence linking the latter at least with the immediate troubles was threadbare.' These prelates were arrested in their palaces by British troops—the Bishop of Kyrenia being hauled from his own bedroom at i a.m.—and bundled out of Cyprus in a steamer to begin their exile in Malta. Thereafter they were allowed to roam freely, but not to return to their homeland. By 5 November the situation had quietened down sufficiently so that the naval landing parties were withdrawn. Altogether during the episode thirty people had been wounded, and six Greeks killed; over 2,000 demonstrators were convicted and sentenced to various periods of incarceration, and a Reparation Impost Law levied fines of £34,315 on towns and villages held to be collectively responsible for seditious actions. Cyprus was not again to experience widespread disorders until the bombs announcing a new rebellion exploded in Nicosia twenty-four years later. Yet the Cyprus rebellion of 1931, and the burning down of Government House, was the most humiliating blow sustained by the British in any •' For the deportations of 1931 see Georghallides, 'The Cyprus Revolt and the British Deportation Policy, October 1931-December \^z\ Journaloj'the Society oJCypriot Studies (Nicosia, 1995), pp. 37-114.


5

of their Crown Colonies in the years between the two world wars, and in a profound sense their position in the island never entirely recovered from the blow. In the years which followed the British administration in Cyprus built a new Government House: this time a more imposing affair of brick and concrete with a view to permanence. Yet the outbreak of October 1931 became part of the political folklore on the island. Why, then, had it happened? And why in its aftermath did the Cyprus authorities fall back on a programme of unusually firm, even Draconian, repression, including the suspension of constitutional government in the colony which, uniquely in British decolonization, was not to be restored until the birth of an independent Republic of Cyprus? The answer to the first of these questions lies in the long-standing impetus behind the movement for Enosis. According to Enosis tradition, as General Wolseley stepped ashore at Larnaca on 22 July 1878 to proclaim formally the end of Turkish administration and the beginning of British occupation he was welcomed by the then Bishop of Kitium with a plea that the new conquerors should shortly hand Cyprus over to Greece. Whilst there is some evidence that this much-quoted episode was somewhat elaborated in the telling,4 from early on in the new dispensation there was undoubtedly a hope that Cyprus would shortly find a more congenial resting place in the bosom of greater Hellas. Nor was this expectation lacking foundation; it was based on a belief in the beneficence of that English liberal civilization which in the 18205 and 18305 had lent a helping hand to the emergence of the independent Greek state, and in 1868 led Prime Minister Gladstone's Liberal Government to acquiesce in the union of the British Ionian Protectorate with the infant Hellenic Kingdom. Subsequently, events in the wider world—the gradual crumbling of the Ottoman Empire and further consolidations of the Greek-speaking irredenta in the region—served to stimulate this hopefulness, and a sense of expectancy against all the odds, often verging on naivety, was ever afterwards to play a significant part in shaping Greek-Cypriot politics and psychology. The Enosis movement remained for some years after 1878 patchy and incidental in its extent, but compared with anti-colonial phenomena elsewhere in the British Empire it exhibited a relatively high degree of continuity and fixity of purpose. At the heart of the belief in Cypriot Enosis lay a consciousness of belonging to Greek culture and civilization. Here the Ottoman legacy carried with it ambivalent effects. On the one hand, the Turkish power had never hesitated to crush signs of Greek political pretensions to the control of Cyprus, as it had done in 1821 when it appeared that the Greek revolt on the mainland might spread to the island, leading to the execution of the Orthodox Archbishop, along with much of the intelligentsia. On the other hand, in conformity with the principles of the millet system whereby Ottoman administration was mediated through more or less autonomous racial and religious communities within the empire, the Turks not only left the Greeks of 4 Rolandos Katsiaounis, Labour, Society and Politics in Cyprus during the Second Half of the Nineteenth Century (Nicosia, 1996), pp. 27-8.

6

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Q'prus to get on with running their own affairs, but encouraged the Orthodox Church to assume the secular as well as ecclesiastical leadership of their community. The position of the Archbishop of Cyprus as ethnarch of his people was in no small part, therefore, an Ottoman creation, and there were a number of occasions on which the Greek Church and the Turkish authorities, as well as large landowners or chiftliksfrom both the Orthodox and Muslim communities, closed ranks against the violent protests apt to boil up from the impoverished depths of rural life, marked as it was by a pattern of small peasant proprietors subject to the constant division of estates through inheritance and foreclosures by debtors. Sociologically, then, the roots ofEnosis may be explained by the elaboration over a long period of high Greek culture within the milieu of Orthodox society in Cyprus. Ethnic, linguistic, literary, and religious conventions were shaped around a Hellenistic consciousness to preserve a customary order from hostile pressures within and without. The ancient church of Cyprus was both the symbol and functional core of this process, but it spanned out through schoolteachers, the professions, the merchant classes, and came to embrace a more affluent peasant cadre as agrarian change slowly brought about social differentiation in the countryside. Here also was the key to why Enosis enthusiasm, linked as it was to what outsiders often considered a deeply anachronistic religious establishment, nevertheless flourished in the face of 'modernity'. An explicit and highly formalized Greekness was the chief means through which an existing order maintained its cohesion in a changing world—including, after 1878, a changing colonial world. In so far as the British colonialists brushed aside the old Ottoman immobilism, and brought modernization in their wake, it was also quite logical that the new rulers, though at first less disliked perhaps than their predecessors, gradually found themselves faced with an overt and persistent demand for Enosis on the part of many of their Greek subjects. The Orthodox Church in Cyprus was to play such a prominent part in the struggle of the 19505 that a thumb-nail sketch of its history is required. 5 In the words of a leading sociologist of Mediterranean mores, 'a Greek is a Greek to the extent that he is Orthodox'." If this is generally true of Greek metropolitan mentality, it applied with particular force in Cyprus. The survival of the Church and that of a Hellenic 'nation' on the island was indissolubly connected in the same way as the Catholic faith and the Gael of Ireland. The Cypriot Church was very old, having been founded by St Barnabus when he converted the Roman Governor, Sergius Paulus, in AD 45. In AD 488 the Emperor Zeno accorded it the much-prized honour of autocephalous status, meaning that it obtained an independent spiritual and temporal jurisdiction, and its archbishop the right to carry the golden staff and sign his edicts in red ink alongside the patriarchs of Constantinople and Jerusalem. 'The autocephalous character of the Church was important' the distinguished French historian, Francois Crouzet, has summed up this aspect 5 For the Greek Church in Cyprus see Sir George Hill, A History of Cyprus, vol. iv, The Ottoman Province and the British Colony, 157]-1948 (Cambridge, 1952), pp. 305-91, 569-606. '' W. Peristiany, Honour anil Shame. The lvalues of Mediterranean Society (Chicago, 1966), pp. 175-6.


7

because it cemented the religious sympathies of Cypriot Greeks with their ethnic identity; lay society came to be perfectly adapted to religious organization. As a result, the Orthodox Church became something more than simply the forum of Christian devotional life. It emerged as the most distinctive expression of an often besieged community.7

In independent Greece such confessional primacy was before long attenuated by the structures of a nation-state which proceeded to displace ecclesiastical leadership and nationalize Church lands. But in Cyprus, where Turkish rule simply gave way to new foreign masters, the Church retained a leading—if still often ambivalent—position as the repository of the national idea. It was the resulting tendency in Greek-Cypriot life to mix up the temporal and spiritual spheres which the British occupiers were always to find deeply aggravating. 'If few Eastern politicians are religious men', one British historian of the Greek people once cryptically wrote, 'nearly all Eastern Churchmen are politicians',8 and this trait was one which invariably got Eastern Orthodoxy a bad press in Britain, with its very different assumptions about Church and State. In Cyprus the additional link with an unfulfilled national aspiration put Orthodox leadership at odds with the characteristic secularism of British colonial practice, with all its pedestrian efficiency. The Church even lost some privileges accorded by the Ottomans: Bishops no longer received a berat from the government to authorize the collection of dues from the populace, and became subject to various land and personal taxes.9 As the two leading but competitive institutions in the island, the Greek Church and the British colonial state ran more foul of each other as time went on. It was therefore with a tone of approval that a Government survey in 1928 concluded that the usually uneducated village priest 'remains today the patcher of quarrels and a general counsellor but his influence tends rather to diminish'.10 Like the Roman Catholic Church in Britain's other Mediterranean island of Malta, Orthodoxy in Cyprus was to devote itself in the following decades to resisting this process of attrition. The 'unique value' ofEnosis, as Ronald Storrs once expressed it, in Greek-Cypriot life was provided with an outlet after 1882 in the form of a Legislative Assembly. That forum witnessed during the closing years of the nineteenth century a more assertive and secular form ofEnosis consciousness, encouraged by such wider events as the Greco-Turkish war of 1896 and the reverberations of the Cretan Question. A more pronounced national strain fed into the internecine struggle between rival factions over the vacant Archbishopric after 1900 which dominated Cypriot public affairs, and accentuated the grievance surrounding the continued extraction of the Cyprus Tribute, once paid to the Ottoman Porte, but now siphoned off to pay British bondholders of a Turkish loan dating back to the Crimean War. A contemporary 7

Francois Crouzet, Le Conflitde Chypre, /946-7959, 2 vols. (Brussels, 1973), i. 100-1. W. Miller, History of the Greek People (London, 1924), p. 281. 9 Katsiaounis, Labour, Politics and Society in Cyprus, 72-8 describes the fiscal impact of British rule on the ecclesiastical domain. This phenomenon was nothing new-—the ancient Orthodox Church in the East had found the rule of the Arabs more congenial to its interests than that of the grasping Byzantines. See Stephen Runciman, A History of the Crusades, 3 vols. (London, 1994; ist edn., 1951), i. 17. 10 R. J. Surridge, A Survey of Rural Life in Cyprus (Nicosia, 1930), p. 22. 8

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British observer in Cyprus felt that it was the Tribute which more than anything else undermined Anglo-Greek understanding within the island." For a long time the indeterminate status of the British presence, and its uncertain prolongation, moderated these frictions. As in Egypt, however, it was the spirit of permanence which gradually came to pervade British occupation in the years prior to the First World War which heightened local discontent. In Cyprus this opposition found a readymade vent in the Enosis demand. On the declaration of war between Britain and Turkey in early November 1914, the Liberal Government annexed Cyprus, liquidating the fiction of Ottoman overlordship. To champions of Enosis, this meant that the island was now at last Britain's to give away according to the proper canons of justice. Indeed, the Coalition Government of Herbert Asquith very nearly did give it away, making such an offer to Greece in April 1915 in return for the latter's entry into war on the Allied side; and had the dominant pro-German faction in Athens not refused, much later turmoil might have been avoided. After the war a Greek-Cypriot delegation joined that exotic but largely powerless fringe at the Paris Peace Conference in 1919—including colonial Africans, Bedouin Arabs, Egyptian pashas, Congress nationalists from India, amongst others—intent on making their often frail voices heard from sidelines. Like other parts of the ex-Ottoman world, the fate of Cyprus was not confirmed until the Treaty of Lausanne in October 1923.12 Under these terms the Turkish Republic, headed by its great architect, Kemal Ataturk, recognized the abrogation of its sovereignty over the island, which Britain duly declared to be a Crown Colony. Later on the interpretation of the Lausanne Treaty became part of the complicated legal woof of the Cyprus dispute. As Crouzet astutely remarks, whereas for some other parts of the Near East the Treaty of Lausanne definitively resolved long-standing controversies over borders and status, the 'Cyprus Question', once a fragment of the old Eastern Question in European and Asiatic diplomacy, was now merely refrigerated within the framework of formal British colonialism." The 'thaw' of decolonization—scarcely in view at that time—was bound eventually to spill out into antagonisms that were more Balkan than colonial in nature, with all the intensity that this description implied. Enosis politics inside Cyprus became much more vocal in the wake of the Lausanne settlement. Its most public expression was the regular passage of resolutions calling for union with Greece and general obstructiveness in the Legislative Assembly. To secure a majority for necessary laws, the British administration found itself reliant on Turkish votes. This helped to foster competition between the Orthodox and Muslim communities (respectively 80 per cent and 18 per cent of the population), and soon led to what one official in the British Colonial Office called a 'regime of apprehension', in which the population had lost its sense of the limits and rules of colonial 1

' C. W. Orr, Cyprus under Hnlisli Rule (London, 1918). '- This period of British rule in Cyprus is fully treated in Gcorghallides, A Political and Administrative History of Cyprus, 1918-1926 (Nicosia, 1979). '•' Crou/ct, Con/lit dc Chyprc, i. 47.

Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, ig$4-1959

9

governance. There were two possible ways of meeting this rising challenge. One was represented by Governor Storrs' preference for what he termed an 'oriental method of administrative tactics'. This was a kind of English liberalism in the East, involving the abolition of the Tribute in 1928, making the most of new imperial legislation for Welfare and Development, and most importantly recognizing fully the Greekness of the Greeks—a man, Storrs afterwards wrote, is of the race that he feels himself to be, so that the Greek-Cypriot was 'Greek-speaking, Greek-thinking, Greek-feeling, Greek, just as much as the French-Canadian is French-speaking, French-thinking, French-feeling and French'.14 By the same token, Storrs accepted the Turkishness of the Turks, and his 'administrative tactics' led him to flit from a Greek social gathering, where he liked to display his considerable classical learning, to some Turkish reception where a sprig of green would be worn in his white lapel. This duality easily seemed fabricated and disingenuous. When a visitor to the island in the wake of the 1931 troubles asked a local English official why, despite his earnest efforts, Storrs had been hated, the explanation given was because 'they [the Greeks] felt he was laughing at them'.15 This was unfair. Storrs was not laughing, only being clever in the traditions of British oriental statecraft which he had himself played a distinguished part in evolving. But sensitivity at being 'laughed at', or simply being taken for granted, was nevertheless to loom large in Greek-Cypriot mentality thereafter. The second method of resolving the apprehensions of British supremacy was much simpler: coercion. The temptation to fall back on the use of force, or what one contemporary analyst of the British Empire referred to as 'the medicine of the body politick',16 was particularly felt in the 'British' Mediterranean between the two world wars, as that region emerged as a principal locus of the United Kingdom's overseas power. In Cyprus from 1925 onwards the British administration in the island and the Colonial Office in London became increasingly impatient with the unstable operation of the old legislative system, and a keen desire emerged to do away with it altogether. The riots of October 1931 provided the pretext to seize back the initiative which had been slipping from British hands for many years. Furthermore, after Storrs had been moved to the backwater of Northern Rhodesia, his two successors as Governor, Sir Reginald Stubbs (1932-3) and General Sir Richmond Palmer (1933-9), presided over policies designed to consolidate this advantage and, in Palmer's words, to effect the 'substitution of a British for a Greek atmosphere' in the colony.17 The ensuing 'era of illiberal laws', as it came to be designated by the GreekCypriot intelligentsia, left a deep imprint on the local colonial pattern. Many of these laws were directed against the Orthodox Church.18 There were regulations 14

15 Storrs, Orientations, 550. Georghallides, Storrs, 700. W. K. Hancock, 'The Medicine of the Body Politic', Survey of British Commonwealth Affairs, vol. i, Problems of Nationality, 1918-36 (Oxford, 1936), pp. 393-485. 17 James A. McHenry, The Uneasy Partnership on Cyprus, 79/9-39; The Political and Diplomatic Interaction between Great Britain, Turkey and the Turkish-Cypriot Community (New York, 1987), p. 85. 18 See Georghallides, 'Church and State in Cyprus, October 1931 to November 1932: "A Systematic Humiliation of the Autocephalous Church of Cyprus"?', Epeteris (Nicosia), 19 (1992), 361-448. 16

io

i8j8-igso

concerning the ringing of Church bells, which had been used to summon demonstrators together in October 1931. Another statute passed in 1937 tried to give the colonial government some control over future elections to the archiepiscopacy, though after Cyril Ill's death in 1935 the Holy Synod steadfastly refused to elect a successor whilst the Bishops of Kitium and Kyrenia remained in exile. Under Stubbs and Palmer, too, the Cyprus authorities sought to wrest control of secondary education from Greek-Cypriot, particularly ecclesiastical, hands. Education, indeed, testified to the ability and determination of Greek society in Cyprus to live in its own world, almost as if British sovereignty did not exist; especially galling to British officials were the school maps marking Cyprus blue for Greece, not red for the British Empire. Palmer's introduction of supervisory Boards of Education to curb these 'abuses' stimulated allegations of the Government's dehellenizing intentions which struck deep roots in the Greek-Cypriot mind. Although the ecclesiastical hierarchy had too keen a sense of its own interests to clash head-on with the British during the 19308, a certain iron entered the Cypriot Orthodox soul, and must have been on display at many common meal-tables when the future Archbishop Makarios III was a novice at Kykko monastery, imbibing the thoughts of his venerable seniors. Above all, after 1931 the British and the Greeks in Cyprus retreated into their respective social and mental compartments, meeting only at the official interface as ruler and ruled. Social contact even at the highest levels became constrained and increasingly rare. 'If I might suggest, Sir, no more mixed tea parties', an officer commanding one of the emergency detachments sent from Egypt had advised Storrs,19 and after Storrs left Nicosia these uncomfortable occasions became largely a thing of the past. Of course, this disengagement could not be complete on a small island; for one thing, the administration, Police, and the bureaucracy of the courts would have collapsed without Greek personnel; whilst Britons and Greeks had always been bound up together in urban commerce. The very advancement of Greek society in the island, nevertheless, meant that it could not be co-opted as a junior, collaborating class in the classic colonial style, and as such both sides increasingly tended to keep each other at a distance. Where the British fell back on their political superiority, and a belief apparently confirmed by practice that Greek-Cypriots 'at the first sign of firmness . . . behave like lambs', the majority of educated Greeks rebounded into an exclusive concentration on Orthodoxy, on Enosis and cultural insularity as a counterpoint to colonial subordination. This cult of Enosis was perfervid and prone to excess emotion; a dream-world where Greek myth and feeling easily slid from reality, 'a hypnotization of a living self by a dead self, as Arnold Toynbee once defined a certain variety of nationalism. But locked into this confined space, it was natural that the Greek mind in Cyprus took the forms it did. Of the obsession of GreekCypriots with Enosis the same observation applies that was once made with regard to the appeal of Orangism in Protestant Ulster—that nobody could understand the extent and vigour of the feeling except those who shared it.2(} 19 211

Storrs, Orientations, 700. R. M. Henry, The Evolution of Sinn Fein (Dublin, 1920), p. 137.


11

There was, nevertheless, a new element in Greek-Cypriot politics prior to the Second World War which, if it was not opposed to Enosis, existed in contradistinction to it. This was Communism, which in marxisant forms took root in Cypriot towns, especially rumbustious Limassol, from the early 19205. Its roots in the impact of urbanization and proletarianization on a still deeply rural society, as well as its secularism and clandestine character, made it a tough proposition for the British, who during the 19305 came to see the Left—not least through its close links with the burgeoning trade unions—as potentially their most dangerous enemy. The effects of this Communist intrusion on the Greek-Cypriot Right were complex. The latter, possessing no comparable set of ideas to compete with those of the Left, or even with the developmental rhetoric of British colonialism, rallied defensively to the Enosis ideal, whilst the Communists, although carefully avoiding the stigma of being 'antinational', were increasingly repelled by the reactionary and clerical penumbra surrounding Enosis. Consequently there arose the beginnings of a venomous rivalry between Left and Right which was integrated, along with the British presence, into a highly complex tri-cornered battle for the leadership of Cyprus. For the colonial administration, the emergence of Cypriot Communism had the initial benefit of driving a potential wedge into Greek society. But this bonus was more than cancelled out in the long term by the effect in stirring up and radicalizing the Right's devotion to the cause of Enosis as almost its sole motivating ideal. One of the facets of Cypriot Communism which made it so dangerous to competitors was that it harboured a capacity to span the communal divide between Greeks and Turks. Turkish Cyprus will come to feature prominently in our account. In fact the Turks were the only major social grouping which did not at this earlier stage hanker after some form of hegemony. Having lost power, they did not expect to regain it. They were also a relatively declining community in terms of demography and wealth. 'This significant change in the natural order of things', a British official commentary later remarked with regard to the shift in land-ownership, 'has been the inevitable outcome of the natural thrust of the Greek-Cypriot community and the failure of the Turkish-Cypriot community to keep pace with them in a competitive world where they [the Turks] are no longer the ruling class.'21 To keep up with the pace of Greek-Cypriot modernization, or at least to prevent themselves being trampled over in the process, the local Turkish leaders came to rely on a mild British favouritism. The nuances of this incipient Anglo-Turkish tie in Cyprus were neatly encapsulated in the experience of the Acting Governor, Harry Luke, whose job it was in November 1914 to go and inform the Turkish notables that due to annexation they had become British citizens rather than subjects of the Caliph. He expected a rough response, but found their attitude to be one of'dignified resignation'.22 Over the following years the Evcaf, or Muslim religious foundation, fell largely under British guidance, as did the shariah courts: this old-fashioned, tolerant, and religiously 21

Government of Cyprus to British Embassy, Ankara, 19 Feb. 1954,00926/183. Sir Harry Luke, Cities and Men. An Autobiography, vol. ii, Aegean, Cyprus, Turkey, Transcaspia and Palestine (^14-24) (London, 1951), p. i. 22

12

iSjS-rgso

latitudinarian community became so dependent on the secular government that after 1930 they did not even bother to appoint their own mufti. This picture of social atrophy should not be overdrawn. Although many of the most progressive elements in the Muslim community were drawn towards the brighter lights of the new Republic in Turkey, Kemalist inspiration still managed to export itself to Muslim Cyprus. The result was a 'Turkification' of the chief Cypriot minority which, whilst it did not lead to the abandonment of the fez or the adoption of the Latin alphabet at the same rate as on the mainland, did gradually modify the status quo. Greek and Turkish Cyprus were both caught up, then, in the same forces of change, but in a highly differentiated manner. The quality of Greek and Turkish coexistence in Cyprus was always a matter for contention. Spatially the two groups intermingled a good deal. There was no part of the island where the Turks had bunched themselves into a majority; equally there were few areas—the Troodos mountains, later one of the heartlands of GreekCypriot rebelliousness against British rule, being an exception—where a Muslim presence was almost wholly absent. In the villages Greeks and Turks frequented their own coffee-shops, but apart from talking about the same perennial topics of rural life, they often used the same language and as individuals indulged in the full range of intercourse; mixed marriages were very rare, but what evidence there is suggests that sexual liaison was by no means uncommon. In some areas this admixture of Greek and Turkish life extended even to certain syncretic tendencies in religion; it was not unknown for individuals from the two communities to venerate at the shrines of the other, and a number of Turkish communities existed in the vicinity of Orthodox monasteries without friction. Similarly, in the towns the two groups had their own quarters, but they were not by any means rigidly demarcated, and urban markets operated in a way which took little account of racial difference. Significantly, it was more or less impossible to tell Greeks or Turks apart by appearance or dress. In the language of socio-psychiatry, the sense of'otherness' experienced by the great majority of Greek- and Turkish-Cypriots in relation to each other was very limited. Yet if the two main Cypriot communities lived alongside each other, they only lived with each other in qualified wrays; and whilst colonial Cyprus was characterized by a Greco-Turkish pax of a sort, old differences were not reconciled out of existence. Localized shocks were apt to produce open conflict, as when communal riots in Limassol in 1912 led to seven fatalities. Basically, Turkish Cyprus was accommodating, even complacent, towards the economic and social dominance of the majority; but being in the curious position of a minority who had once formed part of the ruling power, it evinced an instinctive hostility to anything which smacked of Greek political supremacy. For this reason Cypriot Turks were highly suspicious ofEnosis, reacted critically to the riots of 1931, and approved the repressive laws—aimed against Greeks, not themselves—which had ensued. Before long communal tensions relapsed into the general inertia induced by what Greeks called the 'Palmcrist dictatorship', assisted by the sustained rapprochement between Greece and Turkey after the disasters in the region during the early 19205. Yet it was, perhaps, always likely


J

3

that this somnolence would only last so long as indigenous politics in its modern form continued to be suppressed within the island. The Second World War interrupted the somewhat stagnant calm in Cyprus and brought political effervescence in its wake, as it did in much of Britain's overseas empire. Unlike some other large Mediterranean islands—Crete, Malta, Sicily—it was not the scene of battles, but it was deeply affected by events around it.23 The Italian attack on Greece in October 1940 and its heroic repulse, British intervention in the Peloponnese in early 1941, and German invasion and occupation with all its rigours and deprivations, gave a new meaning to embattled Hellenism. Cyprus could not be insulated against these tremors. Nor, in the circumstances, was it in Britain's interest to do so. In defying Fascism, Britain (and her Empire) was alone for a time except for poor, weak, but heroic Greece. The Byronic idyll of Anglo-Hellenic comradeship was fashioned anew. Pressed to fulfil its recruiting targets, the Cyprus authorities even used the slogan 'For Greece and Freedom'. Volunteers flocked to the Cyprus Regiment, though not necessarily because of the slogan, since of the 37,000 Cypriots who volunteered for the Cyprus Regiment, roughly one-third was Turkish. The war years prompted a new colonial credo in British policy embracing partnership, development, and the promise to extend self-government. In the Colonial Office this meant that the complete absence of any local representation in Cypriot administration made a striking anomaly. The wartime Governor, Sir Charles Woolley, was therefore pressed into reintroducing a modest degree of constitutional representation. This did not mean a restoration of the defunct Legislative Assembly, but in 1943 municipal elections were held for the first time since the 19205. These were notable for the first incursion into politics of AKEL (the Progressive Party of Workers), as the Communists had recently regrouped themselves, winning office in Famagusta and Limassol. Immediately afterwards the newly elected mayors of both Left and Right, however, despatched a joint memorial to London demanding Enosis. While the war, therefore, witnessed a new rhetoric of Anglo-Greek comradeship, it was a rhetoric which the various sides in Cyprus sought to turn to their own advantage. As, too, in some other imperial relationships during the war, cynicism gradually triumphed over unity against a common menace. Governor Woolley expressed what became a common expatriate view when he remarked of Cypriots, for example, that 'there is no genuine willingness to contribute to the war effort, except in so far as it pays to do so'.24 When a British journalist passed on a message of support from the acting Archbishop, the Governor merely raised a dubious eyebrow and muttered, 'He said that, did he?'25 Such brittle guardedness now epitomized the dominant British attitude to the Greek ecclesiastical and civil elite. Simultaneously, Greeks 23

Anglo-Greek relations on Cyprus during the Second World War are nicely evoked in Percy Arnold, Cyprus Challenge: A Colonial Island and its Aspirations (London, 1956). 24 G. H. Kelling, Countdown to Rebellion: British Policy in Cyprus, igsg-55 (New York, 1990), p. 58. 25 Arnold, Cyprus Challenge, 45.

14

1878-1950

came widely to discount British claims to be fighting in the name of Freedom and Democracy. The rejection which entered wartime relations is illustrated by the contrast that when Anthony Eden, the British Foreign Secretary, visited Cyprus in the spring of 1941, he had been met by cheerful and curious crowds; but by the time a senior Colonial Office official spent a few days on the island in July 1944, charged to report on the situation whilst ostensibly opening a number of development projects, his itinerary was marred by demonstrations, and he had to be kept under police protection outside the towns to prevent further disorders.26 All in all, by the end of the Second World War the situation in Cyprus could not be said to have been revolutionary. Public order was not seriously in jeopardy. Yet the atmosphere was deeply unsettled, and the sentiment of Greek nationalism as lively as it had ever been now that the lid of repression had been hesitantly lifted. After the war, the British in Cyprus were to find themselves sucked back into all the old uncertainties which had plagued them before the apotheosis of 1931. A liberal instinct in colonial and imperial policy was one of the features of the Labour Government of Clement Attlee after July 1945. This did not extend, however, to any contemplation of granting Enosis to Cyprus, although there was a continuing strand of philhellenism in the Foreign Office which led one of its most senior figures, Sir William Strang, to express the purely personal opinion that in the end union with Greece would prove both the most just and expedient solution to the Cyprus problem.27 The policy which the Secretary of State for Colonies, Arthur Creech-Jones, unveiled in the House of Commons on 23 October 1946, nevertheless, included the repeal of the old 'Palmcrist' Law on archiepiscopal elections, an amnesty for the exiles of 1931, and accelerated economic development.28 Most significantly, a Consultative Assembly was provisionally announced to consider more thoroughgoing constitutional reforms. Creech-Jones' desire to turn over a new leaf in Cypriot administration also entered into his selection of Woolley's successor as Governor. Instead of appointing yet another official from an African colony, a practice which Cypriot nationalists always resented as a slight to themselves, the Colonial Secretary chose Lord Winster, a retired Labour politician with no previous experience of administration overseas. 1947/8 was a watershed in the affairs of much of the European colonial world. A pattern was discernible in which some territories found themselves on a conveyor-belt transporting them, albeit at varying speeds, towards political independence, whilst others lost their place in the queue (the latter invariably with deleterious results for all concerned). In the case of Cyprus it was sometimes argued that if Lord Winster had arrived quickly in the colony, instead of delaying his appearance till March 1947, and been able to implement a fresh policy with the sort of aplomb which Lord Mountbatten exhibited in India, then the whole Cypriot scene might have been transformed. But in this context the Indian analogy—apart from the obvious matter of physical 26 27 2S

Arnold, Cyprus Challenge, 45. W. Strang, minute, 17 Dec. 1950, F O t f i / H j i $ , RGio8i/io. Parliamentary Debates: (Conimom), 1945-6, vol. 427, 23 Oct. 1946, cols. 396-8.

Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, ig54~i959 scale—was

15

misleading. Mountbatten's panache and freedom to manoeuvre derived precisely from an implicit British willingness to leave India. Not only was the Labour Government not prepared to leave Cyprus, but the fact that the British strategic stakes in both Egypt and Palestine were simultaneously under pressure meant that the imperial value of the island was rising rather than falling. The slippery relationship between strategic utility and political policy which took root in the framework of post-war instability in the eastern Mediterranean was profoundly to shape the evolution of the Cyprus issue. When Winster went to Cyprus, therefore, he carried with him little by way of political gifts, and that little was not gratefully received. Arriving in Nicosia, he found the town decked out in Hellenic colours, and no leading members of the main community to meet him; the local press offered him the sole advice to go home and inform the British Cabinet of the immutability of their demand for Enosis. Before long Winster was caught up in the psychological barbed wire which had for some while come to divide the Cyprus Government from the bulk of the population. But not everything remained exactly as it was in Cyprus. The later 19405 were a crucible for changing Cypriot politics. An election to the Archbishopric could be relied on to stir feelings amongst Greeks. As it happened, there were two in quick succession. The first of these led to the elevation of the acting Ethnarch, Leontius, who lived long enough to coin the slogan'Enosis and only Enosis' before succumbing to typhus on 26 July 1947. In the second election, victory went to the Bishop of Kyrenia, now returned from his long exile, who was installed as Makarios II (not to be confused with his own successor, Makarios III, with whom we shall be principally concerned). Amidst the ecclesiastical and popular hubbub the Church leadership adopted a more aggressively nationalist tone and threw off some of the restraints which expediency had dictated after 1931. But the conflict between the Greek Church and colonial government remained highly stylized. By contrast, what emerged into the open in 1947/8 was a bitter struggle between the ecclesiastical Right and the secular Left for dominance within the Greek community. The superimposition of Left-Right competition upon the classical pattern of dissatisfaction with British rule was deeply to mark the saga of the Consultative Assembly which opened on i November 1947. That Winster got this off the ground was an achievement in itself. It is doubtful that any 'career' Governor could have done it. His biggest success was to persuade AKEL to participate, providing eight of the ten Greek representatives; the other two had to be nominated by the Governor, since the Right boycotted the whole exercise (there were also seven Turks, and one Maronite, presided over by a British chairman, the Chief Justice in the colony, Sir Edward Jackson). After protracted discussions, Governor Winster went back to London in April 1948—as his successors during the Emergency were often to do—in the hope of obtaining authority to make the sort of offer, based on Jackson's draft liberal constitution, which could clinch agreement and trigger a process of reconciliation. Perhaps a year earlier he might have got what he wanted. But the Labour Government was already past its prime, and harried by the Conservative Opposition; Palestine, in particular, was racked by rebellion. Although Attlee had provisionally given his

16

1878-1 g$o

blessing to the Jackson document, the Cabinet—prompted by Foreign Secretary Bevin, who was determined to reinforce Britain's remaining bastions in and around the Middle East—turned it down. When Winster returned to Nicosia he took with him instead a very modest proposition which fell markedly short of the degree of selfgovernment recently acquired, for example, by Malta. Almost immediately the Left—mercilessly flayed by the Right as 'anti-national' for its cooperation with the British—cut its losses and retreated from the Assembly, which swiftly collapsed. Thereafter AKEL sedulously fostered the image of being more Enosist than the Enosists in an attempt to wipe the blot of 1947/8 from its escutcheon. British officialdom, for its part, fell back, mostly with relief, on the old certitudes of benevolent but stern autocracy. Of course, there were different interpretations as to who was to blame for the failure. The liberal Manchester Guardian in Britain argued that the Greek-Cypriots had shown their inveterate irresponsibility by rejecting a perfectly sensible proposal.29 Greeks almost universally believed that the British and Cyprus Governments had been insincere in setting up the Assembly in the first place. All the various protagonists returned to their mental fortresses. The crisis of trust which impregnated the final years of British rule on the island started at this point. Lord Winster, acutely disappointed, announced his resignation in November 1948, though he did not leave till the following February, his last public function in Lefkara marred by much jostling and heckling. For his successor, the Labour Government went back to basics and selected Sir Andrew Wright, presently Governor of the Gambia. He was recommended by the assumed advantage of being an old Cyprus hand; as Major Wright, and Storrs' right-hand man, it was petrol from his wrecked motor-car which had been used by rioters to touch off the conflagration of Government House on 21 October 1931. His instructions from the Labour Government in returning to Cyprus included a cautious reminder not to miss an opportunity to get constitutional life going again in the island; but there was never much chance that a man, described within the Colonial Office as 'a fine Victorian type now almost extinct in the British Colonial Service','" and who 'looked upon the Cypriots somewhat as children who needed a firm hand [and] . . . an occasional spanking', would do any such thing. The clash between the continuing vitality of a strict colonial orthodoxy on the part of the local British authorities, and the widespread sense amongst GreekCypriots of being caught in a time-warp, of being passed by in a brave new post-war world, underlay the looming confrontation during the years ahead. For the moment, however, the focus of Cypriot affairs remained on the internecine struggle between the Nationalists and AKEL. The bitterness displayed was a reflection of the savageries of the civil war then coming to a bloody climax in Greece. Thus the purge within AKEL of those associated with the 'deviation' of participation in the Consultative Assembly was ordered directly from the 29

Manchester Guardian (i$ Aug. 1948). '" Margaret Tibbetts (United States Embassy, London) to Department of State, 28 Nov. 1950, Box 2403, RG-,9, State Department Reeords, Archives of the United States of America, Washington (henceforth USNA).


17

headquarters of KKE, the Communist Party of Greece. Simultaneously, the Church and the Right resounded to cries of'Down with the Constitution!' and 'Away from the Polls!'. In the municipal elections of early 1949, the previous advances of AKEL were reversed. Amidst this heightened political and social conflict, which also involved bitter disputes on the Cyprus copper mines, the Orthodox hierarchy was edged, at first very nervously, towards a fateful decision. For centuries the Church had been able to exercise its primacy within Greek society from its elevated social and institutional position. Invaders had come and gone; but inside the island, clerical leadership had not been fundamentally challenged. Now it was threatened both by the British with their putative constitutionalism, and from the Left with its secular ideology and parallel institutions. Against this background, the Church felt driven to 'go down amongst the people', to soil its hands in a grubby and also dangerous political struggle, if its religious and temporal position was to be preserved. Faced with the appointment to the vacant see of Kitium in April 1949, the Church's seniors broke with their gerontocratic conventions by choosing a young and dynamic Deacon then on a World Council of Churches Scholarship in the United States. The youthful Bishop Makarios, on his return, was immediately put in charge of the Ethnarchy bureau, and hence with oversight of the Enosis campaign.31 From the start he showed himself to be an astute and determined political operator. The shadowy presence in Cyprus during the summer of 1949 of agents of the fanatically anti-Communist Khi organization in Greece, whose leader was Colonel George Grivas, himself a Cypriot by birth, was a further sign that tensions on the island were coming to a head. The public offer of the Left in October to join a 'national embassy' to demand Enosis at the United Nations triggered events which were profoundly to alter the political landscape of Cyprus. Not only did this nascent 'internationalization' of the Enosis claim have consequences which nobody could have anticipated at the time, but more immediately it amounted to an attempt to impose joint leadership on the national struggle itself. The pressure this brought to bear on the Church and the Right to throw caution to the winds, and to strike a blow against both the Communists and the British, epitomized the internal dynamics of colonial politics in Cyprus. On i December 1949 the Holy Synod announced that a plebiscite on Enosis would be held the following month; the Cyprus Government would be asked to conduct this vote; and if it refused, the Church would assume the sacred duty itself. This was a direct challenge to all who opposed the Church's claims not only to primacy within the Enosis movement, but to a wider supremacy within Cypriot society. Just as the Church was being forced into defending its established prestige and privileges, so, too, were the colonial authorities. The Archbishop's letter to Governor Wright on 4 December 1949 requesting that his administration assume responsibility for the plebiscite got a predictably dusty answer. Wright told him that the issue of sovereignty over the island was completely and permanently closed. On 13 January 1950, 31 For the election of the young Makarios to episcopal office, see Stanley Mayes, Makarios. A Biography ("London, 1981), pp. 27-8.

18

1878-1950

two days before the vote was due to take place on Church premises throughout the island, the Governor sent a dispatch to the Colonial Office requesting the grant of special powers to curb the press, prosecute sedition, and, through a change to the Deportation (British Subjects) Law, to act decisively against troublemakers." As a distillation of the wisdom of what Wright habitually called the 'British Ascendancy' in Cyprus this analysis merits attention. He assured Creech-Jones at the outset that the purpose of the desired legislation was to create the stable conditions necessary for the eventual reintroduction of constitutional government. But more important than this, he insisted, was the adoption of a firm and unambiguous policy which would allow the administration to be conducted in future without perpetual interruption from political crises, and with as much assistance as possible from 'the very large body of the public on whose tacit support the administration rests'. Wright further summarized the rhythms of the movement and the necessary responses it evoked: 'The strength of Enosis is not consistent but ebbs and flows in accordance with external conditions . . . and with the ability of the Administration to control abuse of the Enosis influence... under such powers as may be allowed.'" It flowed from this principle that while it was up to Her Majesty's Government in London to see that the sources of external support for Enosis were cut off, above all from Greece, it was essential that the Cyprus administration be armed with the authority to defeat its protagonists on home ground. Meanwhile, the Governor impressed on the Colonial Secretary, the plebiscite being run by the Church had made conditions even less appropriate for constitutional government, let alone the exercise of self-determination, than had been the case before 1931. Wright's dispatch to London was, in many ways, the true harbinger of the Emergency state in Cyprus during 1955-9, J ust as tne calling of the plebiscite marked a new and more active stage in the Enosis movement. Nevertheless, the Governor knew that there was nothing he could do to prevent the plebiscite itself taking place. An injunction could hardly be made preventing the Orthodox faithful entering the Churches and appending their signatures to bound volumes propped up before the altar-piece. The authorities restricted themselves to reminding all Government employees that they must refrain from any political activity. This was the beginning of a prolonged crisis of loyalties for all Grcek-Cypriots in public service. The voting took place between 15 and 22 January 1950 amidst complete calm and with no incidents. All those aged over 18, of both sexes, were eligible to sign the registers. Bells called the believers to their duty; whilst the more pious were said to have bowed before the Enosis document as if it were an icon. From the sidelines the Muslim minority watched proceedings with mingled uninterest and apprehension. The more florid and romantic accounts of this occasion from the Greek side may be discounted. But at least one British observer with many years experience of living in the Near East was deeply impressed by what he estimated to be a dignified and orderly expression of national will.14 To Wright and his Government it was a blatant display 12

Wright to Arthur Creech-Jones, 13 Jan. 1950, CO537/6228. " A. M. Dickson toj. S. Bennett, 25 June 1950, (10926/175.

" Ibid.


19

of ecclesiastical blackmail; and undeniably the nature of the proceedings involved considerable moral pressure. Whether voting in secret would have markedly reduced the plurality of 96.5 per cent of the votes cast in favour of Enosis is, however, doubtful. Political mobilization, as embodied in the Church plebiscite on the one side, and the temptation of special powers for the colonial government on the other, were mirror images of the hostile forces set in motion. Violence was not yet part of this picture. British autocracy retained a certain benevolence, couched in terms of sound government and developmental goals—1950 was the year when the scourge of malaria was finally lifted from the island, perhaps the greatest legacy of British rule. At the same time the rhetoric of Enosis still kept its dream-like, almost theoretical, quality. Everything remained too provisional, or merely aspirational, to generate physical conflict. Yet there had come again into being by the end of January 1950 a regime of anxiety and mistrust of a peculiarly intense variety; to this extent at least Wright's analysis was not at all misplaced. Later on the Emergency was to take many novel forms, and helped to create a new Cyprus divided in many ways; but the lineaments of the older colonial pattern were always to be discernible.

2

A Crisis of Trust, i February 1950-1 April 1955 Sir Andrew Wright's demands for repressive powers—described by a legal adviser in the Colonial Office as 'far and away the most extreme demand put up by any [colonial] territory so far as my experience . . . extends'—triggered a debate in British circles which ran up to, and beyond, the outbreak of violence on the island. To John Bennett, a senior official with wide experience in the region, it was reminiscent of 'the familiar talk of harassed colonial governors everywhere in the last half century', convinced that the sole solution to their problems lay in the power to lock up a few agitators; the result had usually only been to stoke up further protest.' Hitherto, Bennett went on, Cyprus had not fallen into this pattern, because it was too small either to rebel or to become a major international issue, but he warned against any assumption that this would continue to be so in the 19508. This critique found an echo with Labour ministers, and especially with Jim Griffiths, who succeeded Creech-Jones as Colonial Secretary in February 1950. Griffiths was an old-fashioned trade union radical with a strong distaste for colonial reaction. But it was not an easy thing to turn down a governor's advice regarding his own colony. Wright was asked, therefore, to be patient whilst an assessment was sought from the Chiefs of Staff as to the strategic value of Cyprus to Britain. On this judgement would hinge the price—including the price of repression—that might be paid to keep the island under exclusive British control. We must say something at this point concerning the background to these crucial strategic rationalizations. In fact grave doubts as to the usefulness of possessing Cyprus had been expressed in the run-up to the original occupation in 1878. 'A glance at the map', commented the then British Ambassador in Constantinople, Sir Henry Layard, was enough to indicate the island's shortcomings as a location from which to exercize power and influence in the wider Middle East.2 The absence of large-scale port facilities, and the difficulty of constructing them, was widely remarked upon in Parliament at the time. The distinguished historian of British foreign policy, Harold Temperley, concluded that Disraeli's decision to acquire Cyprus had been hasty and based on imperfect information. Whatever practical military significance Cyprus may have had for the United Kingdom was shortly afterwards made redundant by the occupation of Egypt in 1882. It was thereafter that country— principally through the base at Suez—which became the linchpin of British strategy in the Orient, and eventually played such a large part in two world wars; in the 1 J. Bennett, minute, 21 Jan. 1950, CO537/6228. - H. Temperley, 'Further Evidence on Disraeli and Cyprus', English Historical Review (January 1930, PP. 458-9-


21

conflict of 1939-45 Cairo was virtually Britain's overseas capital. By contrast, Cyprus remained a backwater. It was this happy experience of military obscurity, unlike some other parts of the region, which allowed the protagonists of Enosis to argue after 1945 that British claims involving the island's strategic indispensability were a smokescreen for a purely political, and therefore wholly self-interested, requirement. This suspicion had some truth, but only up to a point. Just as in 1878 the putative possession of Batoum or Mohammerah were recognized as clearly preferable to Cyprus as footholds for British expansion in the Near East, so after 1945 continued access to Palestine and Egypt was acknowledged as more directly relevant to the defence of Britain's stake. But in Palestine the Mandatory administration was faced with, and soon defeated by, a Jewish rebellion, whilst in the Egyptian Canal Zone Britain was under mounting pressure which in the end assumed the form of terrorist attacks. It was against this backcloth that in late 1948 it was concluded by the Air Ministry in London that 'the strategic importance of Cyprus has grown enormously since the Second World War'.3 The precise reasoning behind this growth, however, had an essentially political and constitutional twist which was to feed powerfully into later events. A key lesson which British policy-makers and strategists derived from painful Middle Eastern lessons in the later 19405 was that to depend on leaseback arrangements and political 'understandings' to guarantee key military facilities was to live above a trap-door which might swing open at any time. Only sovereignty— pure and undiluted—could ensure that British forces did not have to live the same hand-to-mouth existence which they had endured since the end of the war in so many other places.4 In other words, it was the very status of Cyprus as a Crown Colony which, imperfect as it was in many strategical and physical aspects, made its retention specially important as providing a nodal point of Britain's residual strength in the region. This was the essential thought coming to the surface when, in early 1950, the Chiefs of Staff were asked to make their definitive assessment. The manner in which that assessment was made is highly significant. An initial submission to the Chiefs of Staff drawn up in the Colonial Office sought to balance military factors against 'the political reactions to our present position and policy in Cyprus on Commonwealth policy and ideals, on our position in the United Nations . . . [and] our general claim to represent Western democracy . . . in fact [on] our ideological position in the Cold War'.5 When this paper went to the Foreign Office, however, it disappeared from view for six weeks, during which it became the monopoly of the Middle Eastern 'experts' in that department. The outcome was described as a 'fervent essay setting out the reasons . . . for keeping Cyprus'. What followed was, in John Bennett's opinion, a 'superfluous and rather silly' process in 1

Director of Planning, Air Staff minute, 7 Sept. 1948, Air 20/7028. British strategic planning in the eastern Mediterranean in this period is fully documented in John Kent (ed.), Egypt and the Defence of the Middle East. British Documents on the End of Empire, Ser. B. vol. iv (London, 1998). 5 Bennett, minute, 21 Jan. 1950,0)537/6228. 4

22

/ February-1 April 7955

which, while posing questions to the Chiefs of Staff, the answers were also provided without their complexities being addressed in a serious or rigorous way.6 The main components of the appreciation which emerged in April were that Cyprus had 'a positive and increasing strategic role as an air base and a garrison'; and that only access to the whole of the island under conditions of sovereignty could serve the resulting British needs.7 By no means everybody in the Colonial Office shared Bennett's scepticism. Sir John Martin, the Assistant Under-Secretary, whose general influence on policy derived in part from having been Churchill's chief personal aide in the Second World War, welcomed the conclusion as 'a solid foundation for the future'. 8 What is notable here is the highly skewed manner in which the fundamentals of the British position in Cyprus was drawn up. 'This is the starting point', it was concluded in the Colonial Office as a plain matter of fact. 'We must resign ourselves to the position of being primarily an occupying Power.'9 Whilst this conclusion was being thrashed out, Sir Andrew Wright returned to Cyprus and set about dealing as best he could with his opponents (indeed, one of the reasons used by Griffiths to deny him the special powers he had recently requested was that the Cyprus Government already had enough authority at its disposal to act rigorously against sedition). When the nationalist-dominated municipal council in Limassol changed the name of 'Churchill Street' to 'October 28th Street', thus newly commemorating the day when Greece went to war with Italy in 1940, Wright imprisoned the offending members, and replaced them with his own nominees. Such action seemed overblown in London, and Griffiths resented having to defend it at the Dispatch Box. When he complained to the Governor, however, Wright simply replied that there would soon be a 'Down with England Street' in every Cypriot town unless prompt action was taken to stop the rot."1 This difference of perspective between London and Nicosia was to be a constant factor in events, although the forms of its expression were to prove by no means consistent. That Sir Andrew Wright was an antediluvian figure was obvious enough to the Colonial Office—and even more so to most Cypriots. There was both about him and his administration a degree of 'out-of-touchness' which was unusual even by the standards of most contemporary colonial regimes where social change, often closely related to the war, had moved ahead of political evolution. 'During our conversation', the United States Consul, William Porter, reported to the State Department in Washington on an interview he had with Wright at the Governor's country retreat in the Cypriot mountains, in which the latter stressed the need to bring to an end what he called the era of British laxness in the colony, '. . . I could not help reflecting that it is one thing to sit, high and remote, on the slopes of [Mount] Olympos and '' Bennett, minute, 20 Apr. 1950,0.0537/6244. 7 Chiefs of Staff Paper, 'The Strategic Importance of Retaining Full Sovereignty in Cyprus', June 1950, CO537/6244. 8 Sir J. Martin, minute, 24 Apr. 1950,03537/6244. '' M. Fisher, minute, 8 June 1950, CO537/6228. 111 Wright to Griffiths, 12 June 1950,0)537/6229.


23

figure out how to bring the Cypriots to heel, and quite another matter to do it effectively.'11 One ingredient in the air of unreality was the fact that this insular regime had over a long period of time escaped from close metropolitan surveillance. When the minutes of the Cyprus Executive Council were examined for the first time in the Colonial Office, it was remarked, for example, that they afforded 'an interesting window through which to peep at an administration of which we [in London] know so little'.12 Wright and his colleagues lived in this enclosed official world, and many of their characteristics, viewed from outside, amounted to caricature. Yet their assumptions were not wholly untested or lacking in a logic of their own. Cypriot experience did appear to bear out Governor Wright's basic principle that 'if you wave sticks at Cypriots you do not have to call out the garrison'.13 Appearances, in short, were everything, and underpinned a very Mediterranean ambience of theatrical make-believe. Richard Grossman, the Labour parliamentarian and journalist, caught this Cypriot flavour very well when he wrote following a visit to the island that: nothing is very serious, since no one on either side means what he says or does what he means. The Government issues one terrifying edict after another forbidding Enosis propaganda, but makes no effort to enforce them when they are flagrantly disobeyed. The Greeks chant 'Enosis or Death' in impressive chorus, but are genuinely horrified when you ask them what they propose to do about it. Cyprus is the only amiable police state I have ever visited.14

For a long time it was not to be clear in Cyprus where the comedy of colonial manners ended, and high tragedy began. Meanwhile, during the summer of 1950 the impasse between Griffiths and Wright over the request for special powers continued. 'Once embarked on a policy of repression' the minister argued 'we could not stop half-way, we must see it through',15 adding that he could not authorize 'emergency powers without any emergency' in the island. Wright at least succeeded in keeping his demands on the agenda for future discussion. Furthermore, he was in no doubt himself that an emergency did already exist on the island and would have eventually to be resolved. More proof of this had been afforded by the decision of the Ethnarchy Council to send representatives to Athens bearing the impressive leather-bound volumes of the plebiscite's signatures. Wright insisted that the British Government see to it that these delegates were not welcomed in the Greek capital. In doing so he pointed out that the speedy suppression of the Enosis rising in 1931 had not least been due to the fact that Prime Minister Venizelos in Athens had told his own countrymen that so long as British supremacy in the eastern Mediterranean survived intact, Greece could not put at risk 'the traditional framework of Anglo-Hellenic friendship'. But times had changed during the interval. In early 1947 a straitened Labour Government in Britain had announced its intention to withdraw its troops from Greece, despite the civil war then raging; and although a United Kingdom Police 11 William J. Porter, 'Politics in Cyprus. A Conversation with the Governor', 16 Sept. 1950, Box 2602, RGsQ, State Department Records, USNA. 12 I1 Martin, minute, 15 Jan. 1953,0)926/42. Fisher, minute, 20 Mar. 1950,0)537/6231. 14 Richard Grossman, 'A Visit to Cyprus', Scotsman and Nation (29 Jan. 1955). 15 Note of meeting with the Secretary of State, 31 Aug. 1950,0)537/6228.

24

/ February ~i April 1955

Mission remained till mid-igso, the British presence was rapidly displaced by American influence and personnel under the aegis of the Truman Doctrine. In addition, the British had left Palestine, and were experiencing acute difficulties in their precarious Egyptian base; the preconditions of the United Kingdom's dominance in the eastern Mediterranean no longer existed. This altered seascape, though it went beyond the purely localized imagination of the British administration in Cyprus, profoundly influenced the latter's fate. One sign of the change was that British badgering of the Greek premier, M. Plastiras, to cold-shoulder the Cypriot delegation met with an ambivalent response. Even King Paul, who owed the restoration of his throne to Churchill, protested that he could not afford to ignore Greek public opinion on the matter completely. The slow evaporation of British support for the Greek monarchy began at this point. Meanwhile, the Cypriot delegates did not come, declaim, and rapidly depart like previous Enosis missions; led by the Bishop of Kyrenia—after Bishop Makarios of Kitium had declined to do so—they stomped the main Greek cities, culminating in a meeting in Athens' Olympic stadium on 21 July 1950. As the British Ambassador told Herbert Morrison, Foreign Secretary in the Labour Government, the effect of this barnstorming was to make 'all Greeks Cyprus-conscious', adding that the 'daily rubbing-in of Greek expectations, and the identification of every kind of national and local organization . . . with these hopes [of Enosis] is a fact'.16 Symbolic of this was the handing-over of the plebiscitary volumes by the Bishop of Kyrenia to the Speaker of the Greek Parliament amidst scenes of Hellenic fervour. Afterwards the Delegation left to take their message to the United Nations. Their mission had not succeeded as yet in its fundamental aim of persuading the Greek Government to sponsor the Enosis cause on the international stage; but they had made headway towards injecting Cypriot aspirations into the mainstream of Greek metropolitan politics. In that setting, indeed, the Cyprus question subsumed a wider meaning; the spirit of Hellenic solidarity it engendered contributed to the knitting-together of a society so recently torn apart in a fratricidal bloodletting. During the prolonged absence of the Enosis delegates from Cyprus an event of even greater influence on the future of the island took place: the election of a new Archbishop following the death of the incumbent on 28 June. There were two candidates: the Bishops of Kyrenia and Kitium. The latter was undoubtedly assisted in the manoeuvres following the Archbishop's death by the absence of his chief rival on the propaganda mission abroad, though this was surely fortuitous rather than indicating, as some alleged, a precocious political talent. Nonetheless, the youthful prelate was duly elevated as Archbishop Makarios III.17 Makarios' personality and beliefs, so difficult to define in such an enigmatic figure, will be left for events gradually to reveal, but the basic facts of his life are as follows. He was born Michael Christodoulou Mouskos, of peasant stock, in the Paphian village of Panayia, close to the ancient "' C. Norton to A. Rumhold, i6June 1950,1^0371/87720, RGio8i/i35. 17 For a concise treatment in English see Stanley Mayes, Makarins. A Biography (London, 1981).


25

monastery of Chrysorroyiatissa, on 13 August 1913. For young boys of modest background the Church offered one of the few career openings available, and in 1926 he had entered Kykko monastery, remotely situated in the Troodos mountains, as a novice. Aged 20, he enrolled at the Pancyprian Gymnasium in Nicosia, long a centre ofEnosis sentiment and learning, to complete his school studies. In 1939 the young priest was ordained a deacon and took up a scholarship at the University of Athens, in which city he remained during the harsh war years; it was at this stage that he assumed the name of Makarios in connection with his pastoral work. It was in wartime Athens, too, that Makarios first came into contact with extreme right-wing figures who were significantly to influence his career—and whose successors, many years later, and after the terminus of this account, were to destroy so much of his life's work. When peace came he obtained support from the World Council of Churches to pursue further theological training at a Methodist seminary in Boston before, as we noted earlier, being called home to the episcopacy, and finally ascending the throne of St Barnabus at the age of 39. There are several elements in a brief profile of Makarios which should be highlighted. One was his youthfulness and energy. This easily seems a cliche, but was in fact highly significant. Although the Cyprus Government was used to the opposition of the Orthodox clergy, it was an opposition mitigated by a cautious and venerable, not to say geriatric, leadership. Makarios' evident vim and vigour signified that the ancient and highly stylized Cyprus Church was now being driven along by new and unpredictable forces. Secondly, there was the Archbishop-elect's cosmopolitan experience. Of course, it was only cosmopolitan by the yardstick of a small, enclosed island society. Yet it was enough to make him special—representative of a Cyprus coming alive to the outside world, sharply elevating its horizon above the jaded, crushing confines of colonial existence. The third element to be noted was also superficially pedestrian, but of some importance: his gift for finely calculated rhetoric. This attribute is not unusual in an Orthodox primate. But Makarios could outshine almost all his peers; and in a colony where sedition was habitually clothed in rhetoric and satire, this aspect of his abilities stood out.18 It meant that the British were never to be quite clear where Makarios' religion ended and his politics began. This confusion was evident, indeed, even at his enthronement in the Metropolitan Church of St John in Nicosia in October 1950, when one report of the Cyprus Government forwarded to London on the Archbishop's address made it out to be a demagogic exhibition of rhetorical Enosis, whilst another stated that it was a very low-key performance in which politics intruded only obliquely and at the end of His Beatitude's solemn words.19 The contradictions surrounding British assessments of Makarios' character and ambitions 18 There was also another dimension to the Archbishop's magnetism—his voice. 'The appearance of Makarios,' the English poet James Fenton wrote much later, 'the robes, the head-dress, the beard, the smile, assured him of world-wide fame; he might hardly have needed a voice to add to his accomplishments. Yet the voice alone would have made him a hero. It was distinctive enough in English . . . In Greek it was music of the most heady kind.' 'The Death of Makarios', New Statesman (5 Aug. 1977). 19 Political Situation Report, Oct. 1950,00537/6235.

26

/ February-1 April i g$s

will be central to our account, but it may be underlined that a confusion was detectable from his elevation to the primacy. The election of Archbishop Makarios and the edge this undoubtedly gave to the campaign for Enosis provided Governor Wright with the pretext he needed in early 1951 to scotch any possibility of granting Cyprus a new constitution. In explaining to Griffiths why this was so, he confessed that British experience in the island proved 'that as a political idea there is nothing we can offer which can hold a candle to Enosis locally in sentimental appeal. If thus we talk about political idealism, in relation to concrete proposals or practical life, we play straight into the hands ofEnosis'.20 The only alternative this left was to fall back on the reinforcement of the existing order. Insofar as this advice clashed with the instructions which Wright had been given at the time of his appointment, it was an invitation to the home government to dismiss him. That a change of personnel was not enforced at this point was very important. One argument adduced for inaction in Whitehall was that a radical change of course in Cyprus required not just getting rid of the Governor, but 'a clean sweep of most of the other officials'—a clear impossibility.21 Another road taken—or not taken— came in May 1951 when the Greek Government made a highly confidential approach to London, offering in return for Cypriot Enosis to grant the United Kingdom whatever bases she needed either on the island or the Greek mainland. Yet the very weakness of the Labour Government, constantly attacked by the Conservatives for retreating from one British bastion overseas after another, meant there was no serious chance of the offer being taken up. This rejection was critically to affect the development of Greek policy; it was also to sap Labour's ability to attack later Conservative Governments head-on over Cyprus, since the latter could always threaten to publish documents showing what their predecessors had themselves turned down. Meanwhile, the attention ofministers and officials turned instead to the possibilities of executing a kind of counter-coup in Cyprus. In this regard it was argued in the Colonial Office that the current deployment of Enosis forces in both Cyprus and Greece might hold 'tactical possibilities'. If these forces were allowed to approach a peak of excitement, it was pointed out, it might be possible 'with a mixture of care and boldness . . . to cut them all off at once'; the corresponding deflation would be all the greater for having been preceded by so much pent-up expectation.22 It was in this supple (perhaps too-supple) vein that the idea of a pre-emptive strike against Makarios and his supporters took shape. After the British general election in October 1951, Sir Winston Churchill formed a new Conservative Government. Any hope entertained by the Cyprus authorities, however, that this would open up the prospect of the special powers which Wright had continued to press for through the previous summer and autumn, were disappointed. Although the Governor had been promised by officials that his demands would be the very first item brought up with a new Secretary of State for Colonies, 20 21

Wright to Griffiths, igjan. 1951, €0537/7453. Fisher, minute, 19 Sept. 1950, €0537/6229.

n

Fisher, 24 Apr. 1951, €0537/7453.


27

Griffiths' successor, Oliver Lyttelton, decided that with acute colonial difficulties elsewhere—the British High Commissioner in Malaya, for example, had just been assassinated by Communist insurgents—Cyprus should 'be left undisturbed as long as possible';" Sir Thomas Lloyd, a friend of Wright's, was dispatched to Nicosia to break this unwelcome news. Nor did the Governor obtain much more satisfaction when he returned to London in the spring of 1952. His pleas that Cyprus had now become 'full of seditious talk' which could not any longer be allowed to go unpunished were met by Lyttelton's advice not 'to drive the disease [of Enosis] inward by suppressing the symptoms'.24 But, unlike Griffiths, the new Colonial Secretary did feel that something had to be done to help the Governor in his undoubted predicament. It was in this context that the attraction of a decisive parliamentary statement, which would make plain beyond equivocation Britain's determination to retain full sovereignty over Cyprus, began to take shape. The Governor was even allowed whilst in London to draft the early versions of such a pronouncement—the result was predictably fierce. But a parliamentary manoeuvre on these lines required the cooperation of the Foreign Secretary, Anthony Eden, since it was integral to the scheme that the statement should come at the end of a wider debate on the Middle East, so giving it gravitas and implicitly stressing the strategic imperatives. Eden was not yet convinced that such a manreuvre was necessary, and he refused.25 To the Foreign Office the plan smacked of an attempt both by the Colonial Office and Cyprus administration to evade their responsibility to keep Cyprus quiet. Still, although the concept of a decisive parliamentary declaration, like the possibility of outright repression inside the island, went temporarily into limbo, it did not disappear. Wright was not exaggerating unduly when he tried to impress on Whitehall that things were getting worse in his colony. The election of a Conservative Government in Britain coincided with a further intensification of the Enosis campaign in the island. This phase was inaugurated by Archbishop Makarios' 'Call to Youth' delivered at Phanomerani Church on 13 January 1952 (the second anniversary of the plebiscite). Not long afterwards there occurred the first juvenile disturbances in Paphos and Nicosia, and the early stages of what became known as the 'Battle of the Paint-Pots', in which walls and streets in Cypriot towns were daubed with Enosis slogans; the letter 'A' for 'Anti-stasis', or 'resistance', ran through this graffiti, and such translations as 'Greeks, liberty is won with blood—Enosis, A.A.A.' soon caught the eye of the Colonial Office.26 As the months went by, buildings in the island were to be so covered in this way that there was hardly any clear space left on them—except in the Turkish quarters, and the few high-rise commercial offices that were beginning to be put up, most notably by British banks. Yet it was what could not be seen so graphically that was more important. Under the Archbishop's aegis, the Enosis campaign had grafted on to it an institutional apparatus which it had never previously 23 24 25 26

Thomas Lloyd to Lennox-Boyd, 13 Feb. 1952, €0926/12. Note of meeting at the Colonial Office, 2 Apr. 1952,00926/12. Anthony Eden to Oliver Lyttelton, 29 Apr. 1952, €0926/12. Political Situation Report, May 1952,0)926/19.

28

i February-1 April i g$$

possessed. This encompassed the schools (principally through PEON, the Pancyprian National Youth Organization, which was Makarios' personal creation), the farmers (through PEK, the Pan-agrarian Union of Cyprus), and the Free Trade Unions. For many years, Emms had been a high Greek aspiration, mediated through an ecclesiastical and professional elite, but whose popular roots had been mostly sporadic in their expression. By early 1952 Enosis was on its way to becoming, within the constraints of a small island society, a mass movement with an autonomous institutional life of its own. This was something new—and much more dangerous to colonial authority. Just as important as Makarios' work inside Cyprus was his tireless campaigning beyond its shores. During May 1952 he visited Egypt, the Lebanon, and Syria, partly ministering to Orthodox communities, but more particularly scouting out a government to sponsor Enosis at the United Nations—the real purpose here being to humiliate Greece into doing so herself. Makarios' visit to an Arab world still smarting from the disastrous war with Israel in 1948/9 afforded him his first glimpse of unbridled anti-westernism, and provided the kernel for the 'non-aligned' philosophy which was powerfully to influence him in future years (there was also concern in Whitehall that his entourage might make contact with the arms-dealers now doing a brisk trade in the region). From the Levant he transferred in early June 1952 to Athens. This visit proved a turning-point in his career. For reasons which had little to do with Cyprus, the atmosphere in Athens was tense. The Greek capital was undergoing a rapid and ramshackle growth, sucking in population from the countryside. Many of the tensions generated came to be refracted through Cypriot affairs, as if the blockage of aspirations in one sector of Greek life was a metaphor for grievances in another. Some at least of this feeling was apt to be directed against the British. When Lord Halifax preceded Makarios in Athens by a few weeks to preside over the unveiling of a war memorial, he noticed a distinct strain of Anglophobia.27 Working in harness with the Archbishop of Athens, Spyridon, Makarios worked on these feelings, and began to appeal over the heads of the Government. He also made contact with the main figure in the opposition, and hero of the 1940 Greek resistance, FieldMarshal Papagos. Under intense pressure, Prime Minister Sophocles Venizelos (son of the great Eleutherios) promised Makarios that he would study the possibility of taking the Cyprus question to the United Nations, but added the qualification that any decision would have to take account of the wider necessities of Greek policy.28 If there were signs here that Athens might shortly be set at odds with Great Britain over Cyprus, there were also the seeds of a bitter rivalry between Makarios and Greek conservatism extending well beyond Cypriot independence. Above all, however, Makarios had put his growing personal prestige behind the principle that 'Where Cyprus goes, Greece follows'. The Archbishop's stay in Athens was notable for another event, rumours of which 27 28

Note by I.ord Halifax on Visit to Greece, 9 May 1952, FO371 /101807, WG1051/1. Sir Charles Peakc to Eden, 30 July 1952, FOjy 1/101812, WGioSi/so.


29

soon appeared in Greek-Cypriot newspapers: a meeting between Makarios and Colonel George Grivas on 2 July, and their communion, along with several associates, in a 'Holy Sacred Oath' binding them to the cause of Enosis.29 In the wake of this oath Grivas established EOKA, the National Organization of Greek-Cypriot Fighters—destined to become one of the classic 'terrorist' movements in the era of decolonization. Grivas' usually fleeting shadow will loom over this account, so that the basic facts of his life must be recounted.30 He had been born in the village of Trikomo, close to the Cypriot town of Famagusta, in 1898. Like Makarios, he had studied at the Pancyprian gymnasium, before joining the Greek Army and fighting in various Balkan conflicts before and during the Great War of 1914-18. Later he served during the disastrous campaign in Asia Minor during 1921-2, and on the bitterly contested Albanian front in 1940. During the latter operations he was promoted to lieutenant-colonel. This was no mean experience, though one which was, apart from a brief stint at a French academy in the 19305 during which he was first introduced to the doctrine of guerre revolutionnaire, largely conventional in nature. It was during, and particularly after, the Second World War that Grivas' career became murky. He first became a national figure towards the end of the short-lived resistance to the German invasion of Greece in the spring of 1941. Instead of lying low in Athens, like some other senior military figures, he took to the hills. Whether while 'on the run' he undertook any hostile actions against German forces or installations remains problematical. There were allegations that he took money from the occupying authorities (if so, he was hardly alone); it was also alleged that his chief role throughout enemy occupation was that of an extreme right-wing activist dedicated to the return of the monarchy. Certainly during the civil war which got under way in Greece after September 1944, Grivas formed a para-royalist body, Khi, which hunted down Communists in the most brutal fashion. Although Grivas' actions at this time are no clearer than they were later to be in Cyprus, it appears that he built up a resentment against the British for not providing him with the support he expected. As early as 1946, one entry in his diary was said to record 'When the British hear of me again, they will not easily ignore me.'31 Afterwards he lost control ofKhi, and his attempt to enter the mainstream of Greek politics after the end of the civil war was a flop. This was the juncture at which he linked himself with Cypriot Enosis, and during the summer of 1951, now on the Army retirement list, he visited his home island to reconnoitre the possibility of guerrilla action; a year later, alongside Archbishop Makarios, another outsider in the internecine world of Greek party politics, Grivas took the Holy Sacred Oath we have referred to. 'Grivas is not one of those fascinating characters that bear much investigation as a person' a wellinformed British journalist in Greece wrote a few years later when asked to write a 29

Political Situation Report, July 1952, €0926/19. There is no full-scale biography of Grivas available in English. For a good general analysis of his position see Doros Alastos, Cyprus Guerrilla: Grivas, Makarios and the British (London, 1960). 31 See profile on Grivas in Leslie Finer to Michael Davis, 9 Jan. 1958, Legum Papers, Institute of Commonwealth Studies, London. 30

30


biographical sketch. 'He is a dull, competent, obstinate and somewhat courageous professional soldier.'32 This was close to the mark. Grivas had no ideas beyond a hatred of Communism, a love of Greece and a sincere and highly romanticized belief in Enosis. Unlike many leaders of armed terrorist movements, he lacked to a peculiar degree the capacity to transform himself into a practising politician. Yet his very simplicity, or obduracy, combined with utter single-mindedness, was to make him a formidable opponent of colonial rule in his original homeland. The relationship between Makarios and Grivas, the priest-politician and the man of violence, was ambiguous from the start. It eludes precise analysis the more easily since the determining factor became not so much the relationship itself, as what others made of it. In the discussion following the secret oath, the Archbishop apparently told Grivas that he would not find fifty Cypriots to follow him in an armed rebellion; one of their accomplices retorted 'No-one is born brave; he becomes brave, given the right leadership.'" Just what was the right kind of leadership in the prevailing circumstances became the chief divide in internal Greek-Cypriot politics. But if Makarios distrusted violence, he could not ignore its potential value in proving to the British that the Enosis demand was serious. From Athens the Archbishop went on to New York, where he stayed for some months, making what contacts he could to ease the path for a reference of Enosis to the United Nations. He was especially impressed by the resolution in the General Assembly on 16 December 1952 reaffirming the sanctity of the principle of self-determination, since this suggested a more 'saleable' case for Cypriot freedom in the international market-place—including freedom to leave one state and join another—than a crude, unvarnished demand for Enosis. Simultaneously, Grivas was again in Cyprus, where he resided for five months after October 1952, choosing personnel, identifying suitable locations for 'hides' and arms-caches, and selecting a stretch of beach at Khlorakas, near Paphos on the western coast of Cyprus, as a place for landing consignments of weapons and ammunition from Greece. By the end of 1952 force was being added to the options of rhetorical and organizational Enosis, though whether these various methods would ever converge was uncertain. Although Enosis sentiment in Cyprus persisted quite independently of encouragement from metropolitan Greece, effective subversion required at least the complaisance of the Greek Government. To this extent there was more than a vestige of truth to the later conviction of British officialdom that Athens lay behind the terrorism of EOKA. But it did not require ministers in that capital to take any actions themselves to make things awkward for the British; it was only necessary for them to cease putting restraints on certain factions in their midst. The distinction was an important one. At first, in fact, the decisive victory of Field-Marshal Papagos and his 'Rally' party at the general election in Greece during November 1952 appeared propitious from the vantage-point of Britain and the Cyprus Government. Papagos was a 'strong man' who, it was thought, would soon stuff the dangerous genie of Enosis back into its bottle. This anticipation was heightened when, in his first meeting with the British 12

Legum Papers, Institute of Commonwealth Studies, London. •" Quoted in Mayes, Makarios, 49.


31

Ambassador in Athens, Sir Charles Peake, Papagos spoke of the Cypriot question being 'infected with demagogy'.34 But Papagos also spoke of the need to settle the matter quickly; and as successive approaches on his part were rebuffed—'neither now nor in any foreseeable future could my Government contemplate any change of sovereignty', Peake told him bluntly35—Papagos became disillusioned. This disillusionment was mutual after Papagos refrained from curbing Makarios' activities in Athens whilst the latter was on his way back from New York in early March 1953 (at this stage the Archbishop met again with Grivas, who had himself just got back from Cyprus, and approved the import into the island of sabotage equipment, though not any pistols or rifles). Especially annoying to Her Majesty's Government was the rising antiBritish invective of Athens Radio, overlapping on the airwaves as it did with its even more hostile counterpart in Cairo. In fact, some evidence exists that Papagos did contemplate having Grivas arrested at this stage.36 To have done so, however, would have been politically very dangerous. Meanwhile, Peake impressed on the Foreign Office that it was simply not possible for the Field-Marshal to suppress the Enosis campaign which to Greeks was the quintessence of patriotism. But to British Conservative ministers this would not wash. They knew that Papagos had a record of putting down leftist dissent at home with a draconian hand, and they expected him to do the same with the Enosists. Neither Eden nor Lyttelton, as the most interested members of the British Cabinet, saw any excuse for not doing in the one case what the FieldMarshal had been notably effective at in the other. As in his relations with President Nasser of Egypt, so with Papagos, Eden's growing temperamentalism, compounded by illness, entered the reckoning. The Foreign Secretary had been due to visit Athens en route to Turkey in the spring of 1953, but this had been cancelled because of ill health. During the following summer, however, after surgery on his liver in the United States, the Greek Government offered its hospitality to the recuperating British statesman. He cruised amongst the Greek islands in a yacht loaned by Aristotle Onassis, before spending a few days in Athens. It was arranged during this interlude that Papagos would pay Eden a visit at the flat which had been made available to him. The 'Eden-Papagos Incident' which followed merits barely a footnote in British diplomatic history, but in Greek political folklore it looms large. Eden had, in fact, made it perfectly clear well beforehand that he was prepared for a tour d'horizon with the premier of Greece on foreign policy, but that he would flatly not discuss Cyprus.37 This determination can only have been reinforced by the recent episode in Paphos, when the local celebrations of Queen Elizabeth IPs coronation had been marred by 800 Greek schoolboys going on the rampage, pulling down all the Union flags in the main athletics stadium. According to the record of Eden's conversation with Papagos in Athens,38 however, it was in fact 34

35 PeaketoEden,28Nov. 1952,FO37i/ioi8o8,WGio52/9. Ibid. See material in FO37I/130085, RGCio319/89. 37 G. Harrison, 31 Mar., FO371 /107498, WG1051 / 5. 38 Record of conversation between the Secretary of State and Field-Marshal Papagos, 22 Sept. 1953, FO37I/I07499, WGio52/3. 36

32

/ February-1 April igss

the Englishman who at least indirectly raised the forbidden topic when he began by saying that 'he [Eden] had greatly enjoyed his tour, adding with a smile that he had had a very friendly reception ashore, and [that] he had been asked no questions about Cyprus'. Papagos ignored this reference, speaking at length about the Trieste problem, on which Greece had supported Britain, before tentatively suggesting that a discreet Anglo-Greek demarche should be made concerning the future of Cyprus. Eden immediately snapped back that 'The question [of Cyprus] is closed for us,' adding for good measure that 'after all, there was a considerable Greek population in Alexandria and New York, but he did not suppose that the Greek Government was demanding Enosis for them'.19 Eden was not really saying anything new in this, but the way he said it hurt, and Papagos did not stay long. It was the beginning of the end of'the traditional framework of Anglo-Hellenic friendship'. Cyprus was to provide a cameo alongside the larger Egyptian canvas of Eden's stormy future both as Foreign Secretary and subsequently as Prime Minister. In both cases, however, it is too easy to load culpability for events exclusively on to his jolted nerves and failing judgement. His brusqueness with Papagos was not the first time that he had 'roasted' a representative of Greece over Cyprus. He had done the same to a rising politician, Evangelos Averoff, who will feature prominently in subsequent events, at a meeting in Rome some months before.4" The pattern of these outbursts suggests that Eden tried his best to throw out an unmistakable signal in private that Greece should not embark on a course which could only end in disaster for her relations with the United Kingdom—and perhaps with the West as a whole. Speaking roughly to Averoff, however, was one thing, and to the great FieldMarshal, who had his own vanities, quite another. Two weeks after the EdenPapagos encounter in Athens, Ambassador Peake received an aide-memoire from the Greek Foreign Office affirming that, failing the holding of bilateral talks on Cyprus, Greece would regain her 'freedom of manoeuvre' in the matter. This was, as Peake put it, 'the first hint of a threat',41 and he responded by telling Papagos that Eden had 'meant every word he said' in their talk. Papagos made one last effort to halt the drift, calling Peake to his home and insisting on a promise that 'sooner or later' there must be an Anglo-Greek understanding. 'The Cyprus issue was not static' he pleaded. 'It was festering and would get worse and worse unless we could think of some prudent way to scotch it.'42 By the end of 1953 the threads of Anglo-Greek intimacy were visibly unravelling. At first there were minor tokens of this process, such as the cancellation of an exhibition on British Philhellenes and the Greek War of Independence due to be opened in Athens by the Duchess of Kent. Then on 23 February 1954 the Greek Government confirmed to London that unless talks on Cyprus took place beforehand, its delegates at the United Nations would raise the item during the autumn session. At the same juncture Papagos' indirect pressure on w 40 41 42

Record of conversation between the Secretary of State and Field-Marshal Papagos. Eden to Foreign Office, 30 Nov. 1951, FO37I/95I28, RGro23/g. Peake to Eden, i6Oct. 1953, FO37I/IO7502, WGio8i/50. Peake to Eden, 14 Nov. 1953, FC^" 1/107502, WG1081/63.


33

Grivas, and just as importantly on his financial backers and agents, to desist from plans to establish some kind of militant organization in Cyprus, began to wane. These vibrations were closely calibrated with developments inside Cyprus. A Greek writer based in London, Doros Alastos, who soon after the Cyprus Emergency ended conducted extensive interviews in the island, remarked that by the beginning of 1954 the fact that an uprising was on the way 'was known to everybody [in Cyprus], including the Police'.43 Yet whereas in virtually all other British colonies the authorities would have been able to identify at least some suspects, in Cyprus they had almost no idea where to look—except, that is, in the direction of Archbishop Makarios (Grivas' presence in the island, we shall see, was not known to the British till much later). The reason for this lay in the deficiency of information which was to be one of the critical weaknesses of the British during the Emergency—a deficiency which was itself only the by-product of the gulf between British and Greek society on the island. There was probably some substance, too, in another factor which Doros Alastos felt underlay the failure to act effectively against incipient subversion: the feeling that the Cyprus Government 'might even welcome a showdown in order to strike at the extremists on both sides' in Cypriot politics (that is, against the Right and the Left). As a showdown became more and more likely, any such 'welcome' was to be overtaken by nervousness on the part of a colonial government acutely conscious of its own limited capacity for force. Yet, as before 1931, the prospect of trouble also carried with it a sense of catharsis, of being able to assume longsoughtafter powers, and the chance for a beleaguered government to deal a potentially crushing blow to the purveyors of sedition. On the eve of all rebellions force is the great temptation on both sides of the divide. It was the unfortunate fate of Sir Robert Armitage, at that time Chief Secretary in the Gold Coast Colony, to be appointed to succeed Wright as Governor of Cyprus at such a difficult juncture. Armitage was to become almost the archetype of the 'failed Governor' in the era of decolonization—a tag confirmed by his later governorship in Nyasaland, which was also marked by disorders and alleged incompetence. He was, in fact, a man of limited ability, modest imagination, and of sincere and wellmeaning convictions: the churlish might say the classic colonial administrator. Occasionally in the Colonial Office the possibility had been discussed of succeeding Wright with somebody who had what one official called 'the Mountbatten touch',44 that is, the panache and iconoclasm to break old taboos and get on the wavelength of potential new allies. The idea had not found much favour. Instead, Armitage, a man whose whole career had been spent in African administration, had risen to the top of the list. Just as striking was the judgement in the Colonial Office that it was not necessary to provide the new Governor with any firm instructions before leaving for his assignment, since there was no 'seething discontent, chronically threatening internal order', and when the Enosis movement, though congenitally vocal, 'in 41

Alastos, Cyprus Guerrilla, 47.

44

Bennett, minute, i Feb. 1951,00537/453.

34

-i February-1 April 1955

practice accepts so lamely Administration on the spot'45—a version of the argument much used amongst expatriate officials in Cyprus that the very absence of violence was testimony to the natural passiveness of Cypriots and the artificiality of the Enosis demand. There were plenty of neutral observers who pointed out that this was extremely dangerous since it amounted to an invitation to take up arms; but the belief was part of the ingrained dialectic in the island. When Armitage arrived in Nicosia at the end of January 1954, therefore, he carried with him no political programme to offset his own natural indecision—even the advice given to Wright in 1949 to be on the look-out for an opportunity to reintroduce constitutional government was at first omitted. In the stressful times ahead, Armitage was often to appear bereft and clueless, and to be derided back in London on these grounds. The truth was that this immobility merely reflected the rationale which had underlain his own appointment. This is not to say that Armitage had no ideas of his own when he took up his post in Cyprus. These preconceptions, however, were understandably the product entirely of his African, especially his Gold Coast, experience. Sir Robert was said to have kept on his desk in Nicosia a picture of Kwame Nkrumah, the erstwhile radical nationalist politician in the Gold Coast who had come to cooperate with the Government in maintaining law and order, and to promote peaceful constitutional development. In the Gold Coast this formula for tacit collaboration between colonial authority and nationalism in the age of decolonization worked relatively smoothly. Armitage's vision of performing the same feat in Cyprus was neither unintelligent nor lacking in good faith. Yet in truth the analogy had little bearing on Cypriot affairs. Nkrumah was a 'new man' in his own country, with only a fragile constituency, who needed the British as much as, and probably more than, they needed him. In Cyprus neither Enosis nor the Church was new, and most certainly they never depended on the British. It is doubtful that Armitage expected that Archbishop Makarios could possibly prove to be 'his' Nkrumah; if he harboured any such illusion, more experienced local officials would have quickly disabused him. Much more likely is that he hoped that after a due exhibition of the strength of the Government's 'will', a moderate alternative might be identified and afforded the kind of patronage which had been the key to success in Accra. Before long, hard Cypriot experience was to prove to Armitage just how impossible this was; but by then his advice had already helped to compromise Her Majesty's Government, and damaged his own reputation. Meanwhile, the crisis of confidence which was beginning to surround the Cyprus Government in the spring and summer of 1954 derived a fresh surge from the new deadline set by the Greek Government on 20 April: if Britain did not agree to bilateral talks before 20 August 1954, the Greek Ambassador informed the Foreign Office, his government would launch an appeal at the United Nations the following September. Cypriot Enosis had long conducted a lone struggle, receiving strangulated support from 'Mother Greece'. The spurt of expectation surrounding Enosis 45

'Cyprus: Political and Constitutional Considerations', Oct. 1953, 00926/91.


35

linked to the real prospect of Greek sponsorship at the United Nations transformed this situation. It was also mirrored, however, in the dissolution of the hesitation which Eden and other senior figures in the Foreign Office had previously entertained about intervening to reassert the status quo. The major review of the Cyprus issue in the Foreign Office on 29 June 1954, chaired by the Minister of State, Selwyn Lloyd, and for which Ambassador Peake was brought home from Athens, was crucial in this respect (Eden himself was much taken up at this time with the Geneva Conference on Indo-China, of which he was co-chairman). Amongst the key principles established in this meeting was that 'any British statement of policy for Cyprus should declare self-government and not self-determination to be the ultimate goal. Cyprus should remain a Commonwealth fortress.'46 When Peak pointed out that the effect of this would be to throw added strain on Anglo-Greek relations, it was agreed that 'bad relations with Greece was the inevitable price we must pay if we were to keep Cyprus'.47 It was also explicitly recognized that by permanently ruling out selfdetermination, Britain would have to make do without reliable American support for her position. We shall see that at many of the important junctures in the troubles ahead, the responses of the United States were to be very significant, if not decisive. At this point, however, the decision to announce the principle of a new, if still limited, constitution for the island, was taken primarily to deflect outright American opposition to British policy. Long after the memory of this meeting had faded, the tactics of heaping the costs of the Cyprus dispute on to Greece, and of constructing successive constitutional offers with a view to winning sympathy outside the island, not least in the United States, rather than cooperation inside it, characterized the blend of assertion and defeatism in the evolution of British policy. Selwyn Lloyd's ringing endorsement of Cyprus as a 'Commonwealth fortress' came just ahead of the important announcement in early July that the British Middle Headquarters for Land and Air Forces in the Middle East would be moving from the Suez Base in Egypt to the colony. Subsequently the Sunday Times reported that 'scores of Army and Royal Air Force officers and their families [from Egypt] are dividing their time between relaxing on golden beaches and anxious surveys of available private accommodation in Cyprus'.48 Indeed, it quickly became clear that, contrary to the original conception of a 'planning' headquarters with only limited infrastructure, the aim of the British military was to reconstruct in Cyprus as much of the Suez set-up as they could. Churchill's Private Secretary gave the Prime Minister an early warning that the Headquarters bore a strong likeness to the 'absurdly exaggerated' base established by Lord Mountbatten in Ceylon during the War.49 Churchill immediately instituted an enquiry, but once such a project was under way, it was not easy to stop. Selwyn Lloyd's reference to a 'Commonwealth fortress' indicated another weak spot, since a fortress defined simply in British imperial terms was 46

Notes of meeting held by the Minister of State, 29 June 1954, FO37I/112848, WGio8i/i66. 48 Ibid. Sunday Times (4 July 1954). Anthony Montague-Brown, Long Sunset: Memoirs of Winston Churchill's Last Private Secretary (London, 1995), p. 183. 47

49

36

/ February-r April 1955

not one whose strategic role was likely to win easily the automatic approbation of other people, or even of friends. Once it became clear that the Greek Government was going to raise Cyprus at the United Nations, for example, the British Embassy in Washington was told to try to extract some helpful statement from the Pentagon as to why the continuance of British sovereignty in Cyprus was vital. Unfortunately, the only statement offered by the American Joint Chiefs was that, while access to Cypriot facilities in wartime was an interest of the United States, the question of 'which friendly flag flew over the island is not a military concern'.50 Such a formula was not only unhelpful, it was potentially damaging in its implications regarding sovereignty, and any idea of making use of it was abandoned. It was in such ways that consideration in Whitehall of the Cyprus situation became conditioned, more than anything else, by a preoccupation with public relations. Reasons of publicity also demanded that in framing the intended parliamentarystatement to 'warn off Greece from pursuing the Cyprus issue at the United Nations, the British Government should include a gesture about the constitutional evolution of Cyprus. For this to be credible, however, it was necessary that a sufficient body of Cypriots should emerge willing to cooperate in the modest experiment. The question was: how far down the road to self-government was it necessary to go in order to discover the sleeping beauty of Cypriot 'moderation'? It was to help answer this crucial question that Governor Armitage was hurriedly called home to London. Whilst there he 'weighed in heavily' against the grant of any constitution which detracted from the arbitrary powers of the existing administration, and specifically advised against any offer which went as far as that previously made by Lord Winster.51 Significantly, Armitage assured the Colonial Office that, even on the basis of a very modest provision for self-government, he would be able to rally enough Cypriots to get a new constitution going in the course of 1955. In making this recommendation, which did not reflect unanimity within the always-divided Cyprus Executive Council, Armitage made his own position hostage to the shifting fortunes of local politics. There was another matter, meanwhile, at the top of Armitage's agenda whilst he was in Whitehall. From the vantage-point of the Cyprus Government there was no point making a stern declaration in Westminster unless it was linked to moves against sedition in the colony itself. 'Some arrests will be necessary' Armitage told the Colonial Office, adding that his advisers 'did not foresee any widespread trouble' as a result.52 This raised some eyebrows. Locking people up—above all, locking up Makarios, which Armitage also raised as a possibility for the first time—was one thing guaranteed to embarrass the British position should Cyprus indeed be debated at the United Nations. Perhaps if British ministers had subjected Armitage's proposal to closer scrutiny they would have turned it down. But in July 1954 the Conservative Government was distracted by many other, seemingly larger, worries. 511

Memorandum of conversation, 25 June 1954, Box 3602, RG59, State Department Records, USNA. G. Harrison, 18 Mar. 1954. FO37I/112848, WGio8i/io2. " Young, minute, 5July 1954, £'0371/112848, WGio8i/i83.

51


37

Furthermore, the Governor told officials categorically that Makarios and the Church, once challenged, would retire into their shell, as the latter institution had always done in the past when put to the test. On 23 July the British Cabinet, therefore, approved both the terms of a parliamentary statement on the future of Cyprus, and the principle of an 'anti-sedition warning' to be made simultaneously in Nicosia, so crushing Enosis from both ends at once. By then Armitage was back in the Cypriot capital, where feverish speculation had mounted about the intentions of the Government, and two days later he nervously telegraphed the Colonial Secretary, Lyttelton, that if Makarios did flout the warning that was about to be made by the authorities, '[the] Cyprus Government could not (repeat not) ignore it, and would be forced into a prosecution'.53 This was the first sign in London that things might not proceed quite as simply as had been indicated. Nevertheless, in order to take the Cypriots by surprise and bounce them into submission, the Governor urgently pressed that both statements—the one in Parliament, and the one in Nicosia—should now go ahead speedily before Westminster went into recess in August, after which the blistering hot Cypriot summer would ensure that the response to the British moves would be languid and short-lived. Although there was some resentment in the Foreign Office at having 'a pistol put at our heads',54 the Cabinet agreed that the subject of Cyprus should be tacked on to the end of the controversial statement due to be made by Eden on the afternoon of 28 July concerning the progress of his negotiations with President Nasser on the future status of the Suez Base. For the Conservative Government, and especially for Eden, now deeply unpopular with the right wing of the party, the uttering of tough words on Cyprus offered the attraction of drawing the sting from the Egyptian issue. That an impression was likely to be created in Cypriot minds that their own future was being unfairly mortgaged to circumstances elsewhere did not constitute a consideration which in the circumstances weighed heavily in the Westminster scales. This background to the exchanges in Parliament on 28 July has been sketched in detail because what happened then was often held directly responsible for the later bloodshed in the island. Indeed, no other intervention at the Dispatch Box in the House of Commons in recent decades has had such a load of responsibility thrown on to the precise words which were adopted. This alleged responsibility was not Eden's, who had just sat down after speaking on Egypt to angry murmurs of'scuttle' welling up behind him, but of the junior Colonial Office minister, Henry Hopkinson, whose job it was to divert attention to Cyprus. The very rushed nature of the exercise had meant, according to an 'inside' account reaching the Americans from the Colonial Office,55 that almost no preparation had been made for the eventuality that the Opposition, having listened to the minister's opening bald statement that the British Government 'cannot contemplate a change of sovereignty in Cyprus', coupled with 53

Armitage to Lyttelton, 25 July 1954, FO37I/112849, WGio8i/204. Harrison,minute,20July 1954,FO37I/II2849,WGio8i/2o8. 'British Difficulties over Cyprus', Embassy (London) to State Department, 25 Aug. 1954, Box 3602, RGs9, State Department Records, USNA. 54 55

38

/ February-/ April 7955

a vague reference to a future constitution, should press home an attack. As a result, when Griffiths, as Labour's colonial affairs spokesman, promptly asked supplementary questions, Hopkinson apparently 'went completely off his prepared brief'. 56 In particular, responding to Griffith's probings as to what sort of constitution was envisaged, he spoke as follows: It has always been understood and agreed that there are certain territories in the Commonwealth which, owing to their particular circumstances, can never expect to be fully independent [Hon. Members: 'Oh!']. I think the Right Honourable Gentlemen will agree that there are some territories which cannot expect that. 1 am not going as far as that this afternoon, but I have said that the question of the abrogation of British sovereignty cannot arise—that British sovereignty will remain. 57

There was in this, it is true, a certain ambiguity. Hopkinson always contended that the word 'never' was not explicitly used in relation to Cyprus. Nevertheless, he was widely understood to have done so, and nowhere more so than in the colony concerned. At the time, however, not only was the dismay on the Opposition benches partially simulated—for Hopkinson was quite right that it was commonly appreciated that the 'particular cirumstances' of some colonies did at that time make full independence hard to imagine—but the junior minister's words were overshadowed by the attempt made to relieve the situation by his departmental chief. Oliver Lyttelton, who was in the Colonial Office tidying his papers on the day of his retirement from politics, received a telephone call to say that Hopkinson was floundering badly in the House.58 He rushed to the chamber and with a farewell brio deflected discussion from the sensitive matter of Cypriot self-determination by making a frontal assault on Greece, which he referred to as a 'friendly but unstable ally'. 59 In the Foreign Office at least this was reckoned to be a graver error than Hopkinson's,60 since it was quite gratuitous in the offence it was bound to cause in Athens. Nevertheless, it was Hopkinson's seemingly adamantine 'never' which was always remembered against him, even though he was only saying in public what was being said all over Westminster and Whitehall in private. In Cyprus Hopkinson's 'never' and Lyttelton's reference to an 'unstable' Greece were immediately compounded by the storm set off by the local administration's declaration that henceforth sedition in the island would be prosecuted. Anxious as to how wide Armitage might try to 'spread his net', London had exerted pressure at the last minute to tone this declaration down.61 But when the intervention emerged in the form of a stiff announcement by the Cyprus Attorney-General, it was widely interpreted as calling off the uneasy 'truce' between the Government and the Enosis movement. Afterwards everybody waited on tenterhooks to see if the Archbishop 514

'British Difficulties over Cyprus', Embassy (London) to State Department. Parliamentary Debates (Commons), f 95.7-4, vol. 531,28 July 1954, cols. 504-7. '" Oliver Lyttclton, The Memoirs of Lord Chandos (London, 1962), p. 72. •"' Parliamentary Debates (Commons), 1953-4, vol. 531, 28 July 1954, col. 552. fl " F. Roberts, 4 Aug. 1954, F()37i/i 12850, WGio8i/233. 61 D. Muirhead, minute, 29july 1954, FO37I/112849, WGio8i/204. 57

Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, /954-7959

39

would take any notice when he next preached at a small village outside Nicosia on the morning of Sunday, 8 August. On that occasion, after disposing of religion, Makarios warmed to the matter of the moment. 'These new illiberal laws can only be found in fascist countries, and terrorist measures cannot last for ever' he told his congregation. 'No imprisonment, no exile, no fine will prevent us carrying on the struggle. Long live Union with Greece. Down with the Constitution.' Makarios' references to the fascism and terrorism of the Government made officials in London distinctly sceptical when the Governor claimed immediately afterwards that the Archbishop had backed down, so that 'for the first time in seventy-six years, the Cyprus Government has the initiative in a bloodless struggle with the forces of sedition'.62 The truth was that the Cyprus Government itself drew back from a head-on confrontation with the Archbishop, but Armitage's words nonetheless reflected the hubris of his administration now pitted more or less directly against the forces of Enosis. Allegations of fascism in the administration of Cyprus were naturally exaggerated, but there was somebody on the British side who saw the point: Prime Minister Churchill himself. His anger throws a poignant light on the man in his political twilight. What offended him about the Cyprus Attorney-General's remarks was the 'rigid system of mental restriction' they appeared to envisage;63 at one point the AttorneyGeneral had even implied that the publication in Cypriot newspapers of extracts from Hansard including favourable references to Enosis would be liable to prosecution—so making Westminster itself a source of sedition in a British colony. All Greek-Cypriot newspapers closed down whilst this matter remained in doubt. Churchill impressed on Lyttelton's successor, Alan Lennox-Boyd, that 'a mistake has been made',64 and insisted on the Attorney-General issuing a prompt clarification, after which Greeklanguage newspapers gingerly returned to the streets. There is a sense in this episode of Churchill, at this mostly sad finale to his career, clinging to the remnants of a liberal belief which had first taken him into politics. Most Greek-Cypriots had learned at school that on the only occasion Churchill had ever visited the island, in 1907, he had spoken warmly of the Enosis ideal.65 This was the sort of thing Churchill, a sentimentalist at heart, never forgot. Once the controversy over Cyprus in July and August 1954 had blown over, his mind wandered from the topic, and it was noted that when Governor Armitage spoke in October to a large body of parliamentarians in London, his administration met with no strong criticisms. But in the mean time Lennox-Boyd, prompted by his chief, had warned Armitage that 'In the last resort... your authority and policy in Cyprus depend on the body of public opinion [in Britain]. We have regrettably failed to secure this on the Sedition question.'66 We shall see that the unsure relationship between the Cabinet's policies towards Cyprus and British opinion was to remain a major source of instability and anxiety as events proceeded. 62 63 64 65 66

Armitage to Lennox-Boyd, 9 Aug. 1954, FO37I/112850, WGio8i/255. Sir Winston Churchill to Lennox-Boyd, 11 Aug. 1954, PREM11/605. Churchill to Lennox-Boyd, 13 Aug., ibid. See G. S. Georghallides, 'Cyprus and Winston Churchill's 1907 Visit', Thetis, 2-3 (1995), 177-94. Lennox-Boyd to Armitage, i6Aug. 1954,03926/499.

40


As this reconstruction shows, critics who traced the subsequent breakdown on the island to Hopkinson's undoubtedly clumsy performance in the House of Commons on 28 July 1954 simplified a much more complicated set of events.67 Labour spokesmen came increasingly to latch on to his 'never' as a convenient way of screening off their own previous responsibility for Cypriot affairs. On the other hand, the summer of 1954 marked a genuine watershed in the unfolding of the struggle over the island. A major reason for this was the crisis now surrounding Anglo-Greek relations. The Athenian newspaper Vima pointed out to its readers that one striking feature of the debate on 28 July was that sustained criticism of the British Government had been limited to the cluster of socialist radicals around Aneurin Bevan. When the Greek Ambassador called on Selvvyn Lloyd at the Foreign Office on 4 August to complain about the language which had been used in Parliament, the British minister said he could hold out no hope that 'the word "never" used in the debate... meant anything other than "never" '; conversely, when Selwyn Lloyd tried to soften this blow with lugubrious tributes to Greek valour in the Second World War, the Ambassador cut him short with the advice that 'it was unwise to lay it on too much. It would . . . do more harm with Greek opinion than good."1'1* There was a coldness in this which entered the bones of the Cyprus conflict, so that the intimate political tie between the two countries, with its Byronic and Gladstonian legacies, and which had flowered again in the recent war, was to be progressively liquidated. Just as important as this diplomatic severance, however, was the colonial reality that inside the island the lines of conflict had been soldered into place. Many observers were puzzled at the contradiction that the Cyprus administration should have invoked anti-sedition decrees just when it was supposedly seeking the support of moderate Cypriots. This was to mistake the very different analysis which prevailed in the British official mind as to the link in Cyprus between coercion and moderation. The Cyprus Government had given up any residual belief in the will-o'-the-wisp of'middle-of-the-roaders' in the Greek community—as Armitage explained shortly afterwards to Lennox-Boyd, the so-called moderates possessed 'no organization, no party, no funds, no agents, and they will win nothing'.69 Yet the tactics of the Cyprus Government, instead of shocking the mass of Greek-Cypriots back into the passivity on which the authority of the colonial administration had always rested, now had the opposite effect of crystallizing a united nationalist front between otherwise disparate factions. A key illustration of this was that AKEL now moved into Makarios' column, so that when the Archbishop preached to one of the biggest Enosis demonstrations ever held at Phaneromani Church on 13 August, there was a strong Communist presence. These events had implications for the personal relationship between the colonial regime and Archbishop Makarios. 'In effect the ( '~ For a fuller reconstruction see R. F. Holland, 'Never, Never Land: British Colonial Policy and the Roots of Violence in Cyprus, 1950-54', Jotmtal of Imperial and Commomvea Ith History, 21/3 (Sept. 1993). ''" Selvvyn Lloyd, minute, 4 Aug. 1954, FO37I/112850, WGio8i/23o. ''" Armitage to Thomas Lloyd, 13 Sept. 1954,01)926/500.

Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, ig54~i959

41

[Cyprus] Government's statement about the enforcement of the anti-sedition law is a challenge to the Archbishop,' a Foreign Office official summed up the situation. 'If he takes up the challenge and chooses to act provocatively, the Governor will sooner or later have to lock him up. They must take the consequences of adopting a strong line, and the political martyrdom of the Archbishop is one of the consequences.'70 From this point on British willingness to face up to the 'political martyrdom' of Makarios was a critical test of its determination to assert its mastery over the island. It was in these increasingly fragile conditions that the Greek Government's appeal to the United Nations was to unfold. The United Nations was to become part of the warp and woof of the Cyprus conflict, but it was never to hold the stage quite as it did between September and December 1954. The intricacies of this part of the story have been fully detailed elsewhere, and will not be repeated at length in this account. The sensitivity of British diplomacy in New York concerning Cyprus, however, needs to be underlined. Up until the early 19505 the United Kingdom's position in the United Nations had been a relatively comfortable one. She was a signatory of the original San Francisco Charter, and a member of the Security Council; and whilst in the General Assembly and other committees colonial powers were beginning to feel the heat of criticism, it had been first the Dutch over the East Indies, and then France over Indo-China and North Africa, who had been most affected. All the British delegates had to do to escape uncomfortable attention was avoid being tarred with the brush of these errant powers by presenting the United Kingdom's policies in the colonial sphere as relatively liberal. It was Cyprus, and especially Makarios' repeated lobbying on the margins of the United Nations, which first edged Britain into a more exposed position in the international arena alongside France; the very strong feelings which were to surround the figure of the Archbishop were to be rooted in this situation. The Greek Government's decision to appeal formally on the Cypriots' behalf to the General Assembly, basing their argument not on Enosis, but on self-determination, therefore touched an increasingly raw British nerve in a world where anti-colonialism was beginning to make the running. This refinement of Greek tactics was not easy to counter. The argument of the British (and the French) at the United Nations over colonial questions was that they were explicitly excluded from the purview of that body under the 'domestic jurisdiction' clause in the Charter—in other words, the domestic affairs of members, including matters pertaining to overseas dependencies, was none of the United Nations' business. This defence had worn thin by 1954. The only alternative was the distinctly undignified action of walking out of the Assembly when any disputed item was raised. To avoid this, on the eve of the session the British Embassy tried to get the Eisenhower Administration to throw its weight against the inscription of Cyprus on the Manhattan agenda. A British representative saw the Secretary of State, 70

Wilding,minute,7Aug. 1954,FOsyi/i 12850, WGio8i/238.

42


John Foster Dulles, and argued with him that any discussion of Cyprus in New York would have very damaging effects on NATO, Greco-Turkish relations and the United Nations itself. The Cyprus agitation, this envoy said, was 'an unholy alliance between the Orthodox Church and the Communists', adding for good measure that 'the Cypriots were not Greeks at all, although they spoke the same language and had the same religion'.71 Dulles was unsympathetic; indeed, so irritated had he been by Britain's lack of support for the recent American intervention in Guatamala that, according to one British diplomat in Washington, anybody raising Cyprus with him risked 'being thrown out of the room'.72 This indignity was avoided, but the British certainly felt badly let down when the session opened with what the Observer in London described on 26 September as a 'heavy defeat' for the United Kingdom over the inscription of the Cyprus item. The Americans, Selwyn Lloyd complained bitterly to Eden as head of the British Delegation, 'have not lifted a finger to help us'.73 The situation was one, then, which became enmeshed in all the complex psychological and policy differences which set the patrician cynicism of contemporary British diplomacy so much at odds with Eisenhower's prickly and dogmatically Presbyterian Secretary of State. But it was not only the Americans who were held to be at fault. From the start British diplomats found it difficult to muster general international support over Cyprus. Occasionally there was a palpable sense of betrayal, as when the British, having backed the Dutch claim to West Irian, sat and watched the Netherlands vote at the United Nations go to Greece over Cyprus. Even the Commonwealth connection was not reliable—Canada abstained, whilst although the Australians rather grudgingly helped out, they privately told Selwyn Lloyd that the British failure to make any credible constitutional progress in Cyprus made things very difficult. 74 Only France stood firm, though in colonial matters backing from that quarter was not entirely advantageous—as if a hitherto sober citizen was suddenly seen consorting with a notorious alcoholic. Reduced to scraping around for assistance from minor, and not always savoury, governments, many of them Latin American, British officials began to evince a cynical view of the position that they were left to uphold; as one put it after a lobbying exercise, 'if the Ethiopians understood the issue, they probably would not support us'.75 Indeed, the United Kingdom Delegation's dilemma over Cyprus could serve in miniature as a portrayal of the increasing travails of British diplomacy as it discovered that mobilizing friends on its behalf in the post-war world had suddenly become much more difficult. This fragility at the United Nations was to be a perennial nightmare of British policy as the Cyprus question proceeded. Her Majesty's Government could not hope to get by in New York on this matter 71

Memorandum of Conversation, 25 Aug. 1954, Box 3602, RG59, State Department Records, USNA. 72 B. Salt to Young, 9 Sept. 1954,1^0371/112848, WGio8i/i8.s. " Selwyn Lloyd to Eden, 30 Sept. 1954, FC^yt/i 12867, WGio8i/728. 74 Muirhead, minute, ii Oct. 1954, FO37I/U2868, WGio8i/782. 75 Buxton, minute, 24 Sept. 1954, FOi 12862, WGioSi/sSg.


43

without effective support from at least one other interested party. A temptation to exploit Turkish susceptibilities about Cyprus had arisen as soon as the Church plebiscite had taken place back in January 1950. 'The Turkish card is a tricky one' the British Ambassador in Athens stated soon afterwards 'but useful in the pass to which we have come'.76 For some while the scope for playing this card remained limited. The Democratic Party regime led by Adnan Menderes, which defeated the Kemalist Republican People's Party at the Turkish general election in May 1950, remained committed to the historic reconciliation with Greece. Both countries shared a common aspiration to join NATO, a goal achieved in 1952 under American auspices, despite British opposition. In February 1953 Greece and Turkey signed a 'treaty of peace and friendship', and jointly initialled the Balkan Pact with Yugoslavia at Bled in August 1954. This was the high watermark of Greco-Turkish amity in the postwar period. Any British actions tending to undermine this development were liable to criticism in NATO circles. Even when the British did start to press the Cyprus button with the Turks, the effect was not at first to trigger the instantaneous reactions that were hoped for: 'curiously vacillating' and 'curiously equivocal' were remarks typical of the puzzlement felt on this score in London.77 Although one of the anticipated advantages of the 'Never' statement in Parliament on 28 July 1954 had been to warm up Turkish feeling over Cyprus, the outcome had only been what the British Foreign Office complained was a 'watery reaction' in Ankara.78 In truth, this did not mean that Turkey was uninterested in the fate of Cyprus, any more than the Muslim community in Cyprus was unconcerned about the prospect ofEnosis. The key to Turkish policy at this stage was to ensure that it was the British who paid the price of bad relations with Greece in blocking Enosis, rather than themselves; it was, after all, Britain's colony. It remains, nevertheless, a notable fact that it was the British who in the first instance had to screw the Turks up to a pitch of excitement about Cyprus, not the other way round. Without reliable help from elsewhere, and reluctant to stage a walk-out from the General Assembly, turning Turkish water into fire at the United Nations after September 1954 became not only desirable for Britain, but imperative. This was done in various ways. 'Discreet patronage' was afforded a Turkish-Cypriot mission to New York, extending to 'touching up' their propaganda, and taking its members around foreign Delegations—the whole purpose being to catch up some of the ground lost to Makarios in recent years.79 Above all, as the session proceeded, Turkish objections to any change of sovereignty in Cyprus were increasingly highlighted in British arguments, until it displaced the 'domestic jurisdiction' thesis. This changing balance was evident in Selwyn Lloyd's only set-piece address to the General Assembly on the 76

Norton, 19Jan. 1950^0371/87719^01081/104. N.Cheetham,minute,3i Mar. 1954,FC>37i/i 12844, WGio8i/6z; alsoR. Wilding,minute,6July 1954, FO37I/112848, WGio8i/i69. 78 British Embassy, Ankara (Circular) to Foreign Office, 6 Aug. 1954, FO371 /112850, WG10817247. 79 'Cyprus Turkish Delegation', United Kingdom Delegation (New York) to Foreign Office, 5 Oct. 1954, FO37i/i 12868, WGio8i/772. 77

44

i February- 1 April 7955

Cyprus item. Afterwards the minister reported to Eden how, despite his delegation's efforts, even Peru, Colombia and the Scandinavians had deserted the British standard, adding with unconscious pathos 'perhaps the nicest thing said about my speech came from the Turk, who described it as the age-old wisdom of a never-ageing Empire'.80 By early October Selwyn-Lloyd and his colleagues could take some comfort from the fact that Turkey showed signs of being able to be 'left to make the running' on Cyprus.81 For the British there was a danger in all this, as one official prophetically remarked, of ending up being caught 'between two fires' — Greek and Turkish — in a violent Cypriot blaze.82 But at the United Nations in 1954 this seemed a distant risk to balance against the necessities of the moment. Bringing the Turks on board meanwhile brought benefits. Although the Americans had supported Greece over inscription, they had never intended that the United Nations should be drawn further into a potentially damaging dispute, and it was Cabot Lodge's lobbying which ensured the success of a New Zealand motion putting off any further Cyprus debate 'for the present'. This was not an ideal outcome for Her Majesty's Government, but at least it constituted a 'strong first inning lead' in Whitehall's favourite metaphor.8' Overall, the deadlock in New York prefigured the bind in which Cyprus was to be caught in that forum: Greece could muster enough votes to get Cypriot self-determination on to the agenda, but the Anglo-Turkish combination were always able to rustle up enough support to frustrate the two-thirds plurality required for any definitive recommendation. Given how7 anodyne the United Nations often appeared to a later generation, it is not easy to grasp why the Cyprus debates in the autumn of 1954 marked the beginning of what Governor Armitage described as 'the slide to violence and bloodshed' in Cyprus (Colonel Grivas arrived in the island to take up command of EOKA on 10 November).84 A link between discussion at the United Nations and a move towards violence, paradoxical though it might seem, was not unique to Cyprus. Both phenomena were forms of advertisement, and impregnated with heady expectation; it was the proximity of a United Nations debate which also helped to trigger the sanguinary 'Battle of Algiers', for example, in November 1957. Greek opinion had genuinely— if perhaps naively— believed that once Cyprus got lodged in the United Nations' machinery, self-determination, and, therefore, Enosis, would surely follow. The sudden crushing of these hopes created a highly charged atmosphere. On 1 2 December Ambassador Peake warned Eden of this from Athens, pointing out that far from attachment to Enosis crumbling before the blows it had sustained, it had 'come to stay', and that if the Greek Government was made to lose face they would merely 'set themselves to consider by what steps they could regain it'.85 The obvious s

" Sehvyn Lloyd to Eden, 30 Sept. 1954, FOtfi/i 12867, WG1081/728. Muirhead, minute, iSOct. 1954, FO^-ji/112869, WGioSi/Sjf). " Wilding, minute, 23 Nov. 1954, FOî/i 12875, WGio8i/ioi2. 81 W.Pink, minute, 23 Dec. 1954, FO37I/112885, WGio8i/i296. 84 Armitage to Thomas Lloyd, 26 May 1955, FOjyi/t 17630, RGio8i/27o. 85 PeaketoEden, to Dec. 1954, FO37J/112880, WGio8i/i 172. M


45

steps included adding guns and explosives to the money which was already known to have gone from Greece to Enosis organizations in the colony. 'If blood shall flow in Cyprus', Peake concluded grimly, 'I do not for a moment think that the Greeks would pause to consider who was at fault. They would argue that their Cypriot brethren were shedding their blood in the cause of freedom.' Peake was giving a clear warning as to what might be about to happen. But even this extremity was not without some recourse. From early December 1954 a major intelligence operation was under way around the coast of Cyprus in the hope of catching Greek gun-runners 'red-handed', and the incriminating evidence used to push Athens, and thereby the Cypriots, back from the brink.86 None was more conscious of the risks being run than Armitage and his administration. The sudden sag in their confidence was undoubtedly related to what one leading District official observed as 'the recent unpredictable swing of the rural population to the Enosis idea';87 it even became potentially dangerous for British officials to tour areas which hitherto had been solidly 'loyal' in disposition. The overlap of this phenomenon with the proceedings in the United Nations was not accidental, and the Governor pleaded with Lennox-Boyd that the opportunity be exploited by the British Government to crush Enosis in that forum whilst they had the chance, even if it meant walking out. If this was not done, the Governor finally warned, 'there will be no ... prospect whatever of introducing a constitution in I955'.88 This confession, effectively withdrawing the advice on which London had based its decisions back in the summer, and which had held out the prospect of some relief on an increasingly acute question, was a turning-point in his governorship. 'Why?', Eden irascibly wrote on a copy of the telegram.89 Ivone Kirkpatrick, as Permanent Head of the Foreign Office, advised that as soon as possible a 'tough, realistic and energetic Cyprus policy' should be drafted; otherwise, he warned, 'we should drift from one setback to another—like the French'.90 These were exactly Eden's sentiments, and a minute to this effect was composed and issued through the Private Secretary at 10 Downing Street 'without it appearing that the Secretary of State and the Foreign Office were responsible' (an indication of the confusions in British policy-making as Churchill's incapacity dogged the final phases of his premiership).91 This was a highly important passage not only in bringing Cyprus definitively within Eden's personal domain, but because the principle of a 'tough, realistic and energetic Cyprus policy' carried the seeds of the later Emergency state in the island. Simultaneously, the decision was taken to call Armitage home for 'consultations'—a sure sign that the Governor was in trouble. From this interrogation Armitage was, paradoxically, saved by the riots which 86

Young, minute, 21 Dec. 1954^0371/112885, WGio8i/i276. J. Weston (Commissioner, Famagusta) to John Fletcher-Cook (Colonial Secretary, Cyprus) 15 Oct. 1954,0)926/79. 88 Armitage to Lennox-Boyd, 2 Dec. 1954, FOjyi/i 12881, WGio8i/i 198. 89 90 Ibid. Kirkpatrick, minute, 9 Dec. 1954, ibid. " Rumbold, minute, 15 Dec. 1954, ibid. 87

46


occurred both in Greece and in Cyprus over the weekend of 19/20 December 1954, following the termination of the United Nations session. A Governor could hardly go home when his colony was in such an uproar. That uproar began to emanate most loudly from the schools. On 19 December a large body of pupils from the PanCyprian Gymnasium in Nicosia broke their lessons. They set off for the American Consulate, shouting Enosis slogans, waving Greek flags, and pulling down Union flags along the way, before arriving at their destination, where volleys of debris were unleashed (it was to be a curious aspect of the dispute that Greeks often held the Americans primarily responsible for what they saw as incorrigible British delinquencies—an early lesson in the costs of superpowerdom). The Police rushed to the scene, and for two and a half hours a street-battle raged on the main road skirting the old walled city, with its great Venetian ramparts, the constabulary advancing, according to an eye-witness, against a shower of stones from the retreating youths, only to withdraw under a fresh barrage from demonstrators appearing on their flanks from the adjacent side-streets.'" The quelling of disorder had to await the arrival of a tear-gas squad. Here was a pattern, with schoolgirls exhorting their male peers to greater exertions, the security forces in awkward pursuit of children, the unfurling of some flags and the desecration of others, the gutting of property (on this occasion the popular Blackpool Fish and Chip Shop went up in flames), which was to be repeated time and again over the next few years. In Limassol, a town more prone to rowdiness than staid, ecclesiastical Nicosia, youths rampaged through the central streets, causing the Army to intervene on behalf of the civil power. The panicky troops opened fire, wounding three people. The distance, both mental and moral, between Whitehall and Cyprus was caught in the response of one official when photographs arrived in the Foreign Office of these demonstrations—the taut faces of angry adolescents, the airborne lumps of rock, the Cyprus Police in their motley riot-gear, the palpable sense of ugly confrontation—'entertaining . . . the demonstrators were evidently enjoying themselves'.91 The truth, of course, was that they were not enjoying themselves; nor, indeed, was the Cyprus Government defeatist in the merely pusillanimous sense conveyed by its growing band of Foreign Office critics. A remark which got closer to the truth of a wobbly colonial regime with wholly inadequate force at its disposal was the description in the Times of Cyprus to the effect that the Cyprus Government was 'like a lobster, hard outside, soft inside'—hence the swings which were to become more erratic as the pressure mounted.94 What above all worried the administration at this stage was that the Archbishop's return to Nicosia after his stay in New York might be the trigger for a breakdown. It was certainly a noisy occasion when Makarios arrived home on 10 January 1955. A crowd of 2,000 supporters met him at the airport with cries of'Hurrah for Enosis\ 'Down with the Constitution', and 'Let the English go away'. A still larger throng awaited him at the rambling archiepiscopal Palace in the 92 94

Cyprus Mail (20 Dec. 1954). Times of Cyprus (28 Dec. 1954).

w

Wilding, 24 Dec. 1954, FO37I/112884, WGio8i/i274.


47

old walled town. A Te Deum was sung in the nearby Metropolitan Church of St John, climaxing in the conventional florid oratory. The Bishop of Kyrenia kicked off with a fierce denunciation of British rule. When Makarios followed he did so, according to Armitage's description, in 'a more outspoken and violent... tone than on any previous occasion'.95 Expressing disappointment with the United Nations, he took comfort that Cyprus had now become an international issue. 'He then went on to stress', Armitage informed Lennox-Boyd, the Colonial Secretary, 'that although Mother Greece is standing by their side, Cypriots should not expect everything from Greece, but should intensify their struggle, sacrifice themselves for it, and stopping at nothing.' This emphasis on the Cypriots' own efforts highlighted a new strain in Makarios' thinking. Nevertheless, Armitage's account of this occasion differs significantly from that of a Conservative (and Greek-speaking) member of the British House of Commons who was present throughout. Patrick Maitland afterwards wrote privately to Eden that Makarios' return had presented 'a fascinating study of personalities'.96 The hubbub had steadily risen from the airport to the cathedral, and when the Bishop of Kyrenia spoke he sought to whip up the congregation to still greater excitements. Yet, Maitland detected a different vein in Makarios, who had shown signs of wishing to moderate the boisterousness of proceedings. He spoke briefly, avoided politics, and 'sought to play the crowd down'.97 When an interjector put aside all ecclesiastical decorum and yelled out Torni Anglia' (Prostitute England), the Archbishop 'froze him into the ground' with a reproving glare. Two such different accounts exemplify the problem the British always had in establishing the 'real' Makarios. But then the Archbishop was a man of intensely divided impulses. Of all the criticisms to which he was to become subject, one of the most telling is that he was indecisive and fearful when confronting issues of great moment. Already under pressure from Grivas to agree to the commencement of a campaign of violence, Makarios' instincts as a man of caution, and no doubt his innate suspicion of Grivas himself, clashed with his self-image as a man of destiny. His stern rebuke to the cry of'Porni Anglia' indicated his desire not to burn his boats with the British administration. Above all, Makarios, like many of his own supporters, was caught up in a 'crisis of trust' which, Maitland observed, had come to engulf the island, and was undergoing a 'last examination of conscience' before coming to fateful decisions about a possible use of violence.98 This touched the heart of the matter. Maitland advised Eden that in these circumstances to propose a constitution less liberal than that put forward at the Constituent Assembly in 1948 would be 'an idiotic offer'. The deduction he made from this, however, was that it would be better to offer nothing at all. It was thus that British and Greek logic, even when it agreed on the underlying political facts, spun off at right angles to each other. Whitehall, too, however, was not wholly exempt from the 'last examination of conscience' under way in Cyprus. In this case the role of chief examiner was played by 95 96 97

Armitage to Lennox-Boyd, 11 Jan. i955,FO37i/ii762i,RGio8i/34. Patrick Maitland to Eden, 'Notes on Cyprus', 3 Feb. 1955, FO37I/117624, RGioSi/Sg. 98 Ibid. Ibid.

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i February-1 April 1955

Anthony Nutting, Minister of State in the Foreign Office (Nutting was later to resign over Suez—another line of fissure within British policy linking Cyprus and Egypt). Nutting was no 'defeatist'. He had joined in criticizing Armitage when the latter drew back at the last minute from imposing Government control on the schools, on the grounds that it would be a greater provocation even than arresting Makarios. Yet he did not share Eden's depreciation of the role played by the United States—'I wouldn't worry about the Americans', Eden had previously instructed his officials over Cyprus"—and he was now swayed by the advice of the United Kingdom's Ambassador in Washington, Sir Roger Makins, that although the Eisenhower Administration was happy to see the continuance of British sovereignty in the colony, they might change their minds if trouble ever broke out.1()l) Cypriots, Nutting argued, had to be offered at least the recognition of 'ultimate self-determination', since 'although we have not said that Cyprus will never be allowed self-determination, we have never said that it will'. In sum, the minister recommended what he called 'a policy of firmness in the present combined with reasonableness and open-mindedness in the future'. The only alternative, he said grimly, would be 'to fight it out with the Greeks'.101 Nutting was the first senior British figure to enunciate the argument that if only transparent and credible concessions were made to Greek-Cypriots about the future of the island, they would simmer down and accept something more modest in the mean time. But was it the case by early 1955, let alone later, that the arousal of Greek passions which had crystallized around the Enosis demand could be regulated and deflected by benign talk about the future? Eden regarded this as completely unrealistic. His political conscience had been shaped by the experience of Munich—that to be forced into concession through fear of an adversary was to invite certain oblivion. The images and rhetorical conceits grounded in the disrepute of pre-war Appeasement in Europe permeated British discussions about Cyprus, as they did of some other parts of the Middle East. Scribbling in considerable irritation over Nutting's memorandum, the Foreign Secretary's retort to the argument that the only alternative would be to fight it out with the Greeks was that Greece would not resist for long since 'the country is unstable'; to the proposition that a reference to 'ultimate selfdetermination' in Cyprus would assist Britain's international position, he struck back acidly 'not with the Turks or FYanco'; and to the thesis that a slight shift of position would give Papagos and his ministers the pretext to withdraw from the vicarious position they had taken up, he expostulated 'They would give a shout of triumph'. It was a shout of triumph that neither British diplomacy in the eastern Mediterranean, nor Eden himself at a time when the jockeying to succeed Churchill was at its height, could afford in the winter of 1955. If recognition of'ultimate self-determination' was still out of the question, so was any substantial movement on a new constitution for the colony. This was despite Governor Armitage's self-pitying confession in a long dispatch on i February 1955 vv Eden, minute, 24 Mar. 1955, FO37I/112841, WGio8i/4Q. ""' Sir Roger Makins to Eden, i2jan. 1955, FO37i/ii762i, RGio8i/43. "" Nutting, memorandum, 8 Feb. 1955, FO3yi/117625, RGioSi/107.


49

that 'no one will come forward to talk to us [the Cyprus Government]' on the basis of the current policy, and which stressed the critical need to 'avoid creating conditions which may lead to disturbances, especially the type of disorders which the Police cannot quell through riot squads'—that is, the sort which required Army intervention.102 In a long analysis which admitted the acute divisions among his own advisers—and, characteristically, not without a long list of qualifications—Armitage finally came down on the side of reintroducing as soon as possible a Legislative Assembly with an elected Greek majority, albeit one which, as before 1931, would leave the casting vote with the Turkish representatives. This represented a considerable departure from the instructions which he had taken with him to Nicosia just over a year before. 'I am bewildered by the Governor's rapid changes of front,' was Kirkpatrick's angry response.103 Eden was equally dismayed. 'We have recently announced a constitution [on 28 July 1954]. Not enough people want to work it, so we rush around and look for another,' he summed up the situation. 'We never allow our medicine to work. We should . . . let no glimmer of weakness emerge on our side... strengthen [the] Police in Cyprus, improve our broadcasting etc, I had hoped we should have done this long ago. Nothing ever seems to be done in Cyprus.'104 Eden's mounting frustration that the situation in Cyprus was being allowed to slip beyond control by weakness and incompetence had been boosted considerably by a dramatic development a few days before Armitage's dispatch on a new constitution was received. In the early hours of 25 January HMS Comet, a surveillance vessel equipped with special radar facilities, and playing its part in a carefully planned operation under the codename 'Pursenet', picked up the trail of a Greek fishing boat, the Aghios Georghios, heading for Khlorakas.105 The Aghios Georghios—whose movements had been tipped off by British intelligence sources in Athens—was suspected to be carrying a consignment of arms and explosives. Two months before a similar interception had failed at the last moment when the crew in the nick of time dumped their cargo in the open sea and turned successfully on their tracks. This time the Comet's commander waited until the Greek boat got close to shore, and then pounced. The crew had only consigned a part of their load of weapons to the water before being arrested. Meanwhile, on shore the Cyprus Police rounded up the waiting reception committee, including a senior aide to Grivas, Socrates Loizides, who was also known to Archbishop Makarios, along with twenty-seven cases of explosives which had already been ferried ashore by dinghy. The apprehension of the Aghios Georghios was a blow to Grivas' skeletal organization. This was not principally because of the lost armoury. What worried Grivas most was its psychological effect on his Cypriot helpers, and above all the precedent of betrayal it provided. His first priority was to insist that the leak had come from 102

Armitage to Lloyd, i Feb. 1955, FO37I/117625, RGio8i//io6. I. Kirkpatrick, i4Feb. 1955^0371/117625,1101081/108. Eden,minute,9Feb. 1955,FO37I/117625,RGioSi/io?. 103 For background to the Aghios Georghios episode see Nancy Crawshaw, The Cyprus Revolt: An Account of the Struggle for Union with Greece (London, 1978), pp. 104-10. 101

104

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i February-i April ig$$

Athens, not within EOKA itself. 'Silence. Keep your mouths shut. British agents are everywhere,' ran one of EOKA's cyclostyled pamphlets,106 and henceforth Grivas was to eliminate individuals at the slightest suggestion of their unreliability. No attempt was made to assert any innocence on the part of theAghios Georghios'' complement; indeed, they did not even defend themselves, or, despite prompting, show any concern about the implications for their dependants at home (which suggested to the British that considerable financial help was on hand from some quarter). 'We played head and tails. We lost, you won,' one of them briskly told his interrogators. The conduct of these interviews was revealing. The key objective—personally monitored by Eden in London—was to gather information on a possible link between gun-running and the Greek Government, so that the focus of questions was on the official treatment of theAghios Georghios as it had left Piraeus, and its revictualling in Rhodes.107 Divers were kept at work under dangerous winter conditions whilst the resulting prosecutions were in progress, attempting to recover jettisoned cargo and especially incriminating material. Although four cases including a Bren gun and small-arms were brought up, any link with Athens remained wholly conjectural. The other possibility was to draw Archbishop Makarios into the web. Eden's preoccupation at this point with implicating the Archbishop struck one of his aides as symptomatic of an obsession for detail to the detriment of any real vision of national policy.108 But whatever Eden's wider failings may have been, the detail was not just incidental. Here, too, the end result was nonetheless threadbare. The proposition that the Archbishop knew Socrates Loizides, Loizides was a gun-runner, ergo the Archbishop was a man of violence, was not one which could be entered into a court of law; and although the Archbishop did not condemn the gun-running, there was not a shred of evidence to connect him directly with it.109 In this regard it is very significant that theAghios Georghios incident—predating the actual outbreak of violence—remained the only one in which the British and Cyprus Governments were ever able to get anywhere close to establishing a tangible, if still very wobbly, connection between Makarios and instruments of violence inside the island. The interrogations arising from the Aghios Georghios, however, did prove one thing for certain: there was a 'terrorist' organization in place and ready to act. This inevitably concentrated the minds of those responsible for law and order in the colony, including the Colonial Secretary in London. Lennox-Boyd was a deep-dyed colonial conservative. But as the Minister responsible to the Crown, he saw Eden on 15 February and told him bluntly that they were all at a 'dead end' in Cyprus and that it was simply not possible any longer to govern the island simply by executive fiat.110 The Foreign Secretary could not brush Lennox-Boyd aside as he had Nutting or Armitage. He agreed in principle that a new 'offer' should be made to the Cypriots, 106

Enclosure in FO37I/117630,1101081/270. Lennox-Boyd to Armitage, i Feb. 1955, FO37i/i 17688, RGi 192/8. David Dutton, Eden (London, 1996), p. 375. m R. Thompson, minute, 15 June 1955, FO37I/117637. "" J. Ward, 15 Feb. 1955, FO37i/i 17625, RGio8i/m.

107

108


5T

but with one crucial proviso: that it should be approved beforehand by the Turkish Government.111 This was the first occasion that a Turkish 'condition' was integrated into British policy on Cyprus. For the moment officials in Whitehall set about rejigging a formula to present to Ankara. Playing with words, however, took time, and time was something that the Cyprus Government had very little of. In particular, the administration feared that the celebrations on 25 March (Greek Independence Day) would prove the next flashpoint. In a state of acute anxiety, Armitage fell back on a last resort of his own: a personal meeting between himself and Archbishop Makarios which would break the mutual embargo which had long existed on direct contact between the Cyprus Government and the Orthodox Church at the highest levels. This was not the first time Armitage had thought of such a meeting. When Makarios had been in Athens in December 1954, the Governor had, with Ambassador Peake's help, sent a junior emissary to see him at his hotel to suggest an encounter. Asked what the agenda of such a meeting might be, Makarios had, however, simply been told 'the maintenance of law and order', which offered little in return for his cooperation; the Archbishop had retreated into one of his enigmatic poses.112 But by February 1955 Makarios was as keen to meet with Armitage as Armitage was to see him. When the Archbishop's chief aide, Nikos Kranidiotis, met with Lawrence Durrell, the author who, as a fluent Greek speaker, had been brought in to upgrade the Cyprus Broadcasting Service, on 22 February, Kranidiotis stressed Makarios' fear of 'the drift towards local violence as a possible next step'113—the same fear as Armitage. The intermediaries sketched out a plan for a secret meeting at night in the remote monastery of Kykko between the two leaders, after which an agreed communique might help to get everybody over the 'hump' of 25 March. But just as Makarios had to 'deliver' Grivas to any such accommodation, so Armitage could not make a move of such importance without the permission of Her Majesty's Government. Perhaps left to himself, and with the weight of responsibility on him, Lennox-Boyd might have authorized the Governor to go ahead. But the real power lay elsewhere. Eden gave short shrift to what he and his officials saw as the proposition that the Governor should go 'cap in hand' into Makarios' territory (Kykko), effectively suing for help in governing his own colony.114 Reluctantly explaining to Armitage why this was not possible, Lennox-Boyd told him on 25 February that it would 'suggest a readiness and even anxiety on your part to seek an accommodation on self-determination'.115 Armitage's anxiety was, in fact, purely and simply to keep the peace; that this could not be disentangled from constitutional issues had become the nub of the problem. When he made a second attempt, pointedly arguing that any such meeting would be a triumph in breaking down the 'boycott imposed by the Church [on the administration] for the last twenty years',116 he 111 113 114 115 116

Ibid. "2 British Embassy, Athens to Foreign Office, FO37I/117620, RGioSi/y. Armitage, telegram to Lennox-Boyd, 24 Feb. 1955, FO37I/117625, RGio8i/i34. Nutting, minute, 28 Feb. 1955^6371/117626^61081/137. Lennox-Boyd to Armitage, 25 Feb. 1955^0371/117625^61081/134. Armitage, telegram to Lennox-Boyd, 26 Feb. 1955, FO37I/117626, RGio8i/i38.

52


was refused again; and when he compounded his error by sending out a further distress signal, asking that the British Government seek Papagos' help to restrain the extremists in Cyprus,117 he was swiftly and this time irreversibly called home. His experience in Whitehall must have been fairly bruising; the word used by one observer to describe what happened to him when he tried to explain his difficulties to a high-level meeting of ministers and officials was 'demolished'."8 After Armitage arrived back in Nicosia on 23 March he found that the atmosphere ahead of Greek Independence Day was worse than when he had left. Amidst this tension Makarios remained locked in his own ambivalence. His rhetoric was undimmed, and even turned up a notch. 'We demand selfdetermination and nothing less,' he pronounced in a sermon. 'How shall we get this? By persistent and firm continuation of our struggle in all directions. By the weapon of our right. The wind of freedom is blowing everywhere, tearing down the colonial regimes.' Such language did not bode well. But on 25 March the Archbishop played a leading part in calming down the celebrations, and at one point even dispersed a crowd which gathered in front of his Palace. Quite what security advice Armitage received at this time we do not know. But a good deal can be deduced from his urgent appeal two days later that a new Cyprus statement had to be made in Parliament before it went into recess on 7 August. 119 'Not a chance. We must give Turkey a fair crack of the whip,' was how this was shot down when the Colonial Office diffidently raised the matter.120 Shortly after i a.m. on the morning of i April—April Fool's Day, as contemporaries could hardly fail to notice—a series of explosions rocked Government buildings in Nicosia, Limassol, and Larnaca. None had been guarded (this was to provide another rod in London with which to beat the Cyprus authorities). As their main target, the bombers made a selection well judged to grate with Anthony Eden, for whom propaganda had become the measure of a tough and energetic policy in the colony: the transmitters of the newly refurbished Cyprus Broadcasting Service were all destroyed. Pamphlets issued in the name, mysteriously, of'Dighenis', a Greek god of legend, and of EOKA (a name hitherto unknown to the British), were left littering the vicinity of the various attacks, calling on the people to rise up to achieve Enosis; as something of an afterthought, other leaflets were scattered in TurkishCypriot neighbourhoods in Nicosia informing their inhabitants that no harm was intended to them, but advising that Muslims should refrain from lining up in the struggle beside the British colonialists. Some hours after the first detonations, a Police check on the Famagusta-Larnaca road stopped a car, and found nine handgrenades, two sticks of dynamite, and three packets of explosive. The car's owner, Gregoris Axfentiou, was absent; as Grivas' chief lieutenant, Axfentiou was soon to be the second most hunted man on the island, and ultimately the principal martyr of the 117

Ward, minute, 19 Mar. 1955, RGio8i/i82, FO37t/i 17627. Note of meeting at the Foreign Office, 18 Mar. 1955, €0926/257. "'' Armitage, telegram toLennox-Boyd, 27 Mar. 1955, FO37I/117627, RGio8i/i97. 12(1 Nutting, minute, 28 Mar. 1955, ibid. 118


53

rebellion. The only fatality in this initial flurry of depredations was a nineteen-yearold youth whose body was found by an electric pylon near Famagusta (he had been trying to shear through the wires). In reporting these events to London, Armitage tried to find at least some small solace to pacify his superiors: a small transmitter, he related, had been borrowed to re-establish a broadcasting service around Nicosia and Larnaca. 'The programme' the Governor assured Lennox-Boyd, and through him the Cabinet, somewhat lamely 'will consist of mainly gramophone records and talks.'121 The complex origins of a rebellion are crucial to any understanding of its future course, which is why they have been traced in some detail here. Why, then, in some kind of nutshell, had unrest in Cyprus finally boiled over into violence, and what was the true nature of the organization of EOKA? Fraôis Crouzet finds the distinguishing characteristic of the latter in its lack of spontaneity, the deliberateness and centralized nature of its creation, a phenomenon orchestrated from above rather than one which welled up from below.122 In this sense EOKA bore much greater resemblance to the calculated terrorism of such groups as Stern and Irgun in Palestine during the 19405, than it did to the more haphazard, and roughly contemporary, eruptions of Chinese insurgency in Malaya or the Mau Mau revolt in Kenya. It was a conflict, in short, which was not suddenly triggered by rural depression and unfocused political aspirations, but which flowed from a much more long-standing and even institutionalized confrontation between British administration and GreekCypriot society. To this extent at least British allegations of complicity in the use of force to resolve the issue—above all, the complicity of Makarios and the Church— were not to be wholly misplaced, even if they were never able to find the proofs required to turn this conviction (or prejudice) to their political advantage. Yet it remains the case that the outbreak of physical Greek resistance to British rule on the island in April 1955 was by no means inevitable, and was the product of a sharp psychological polarization between the British and the bulk of the Cypriots amidst the changing post-war world. For British policy-makers, and to a large section of metropolitan opinion, it became axiomatic that there should not be in Cyprus the same sorry story repeated so often elsewhere in the Middle East after 1945. Cyprus, as a sovereign British Colony, was to be different. This difference was made increasingly plain to the Cypriots themselves, and it was above all a sense of being singled out for special and discriminatory treatment, of being left behind when other, less advanced colonial peoples were being permitted to move forward politically and constitutionally, which fuelled and popularized a deep-seated sense of grievance amongst the majority. 'It seems inconceivable', a British visitor to the island remarked in the course of 1954, 'that the Cypriots could become vicious like the Egyptians."23 But that they could be like Egyptians if they chose was part and parcel of the more extreme Enosis rhetoric; and EOKA could not have arisen, and above all 121 122 121

Armitage to Lennox-Boyd, i Apr. 1955, FO37I/117628, RGioSi 7214. Fran9ois Crouzet, Le Conftit de Chypre, 1946-1959, 2 vols. (Brussels, 1973), ii. 486-7. The visitor was the Conservative MP Richard Brooman-White.

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could not have survived, if the possibility of such emulation, and even a certain pride in it, had not touched a chord amongst the great mass of Greek-Cypriots who detested violence for its own sake. What accident and events brought into head-on collision in Cyprus, therefore, were two different but equally tenacious ideas about the exceptional circumstances of the island—a Greek-Cypriot belief that they were exceptionally qualified to determine their own future, and a British belief that the island must be exempted in some way from the process of imperial retraction. In politics, as in most things, there are dangers in being different, and those dangers were soon to affect all those concerned in the Cyprus story. 'The enchanted island', to use the cliche which so many British travellers down the years had adopted to describe the special Levantine blend of people and scenes which they found there, was through this indirect and often obscure route to be transmuted into a more contemporary stereotype—an 'island of terror'.

3 'Terror Island', 2 April-3 October 1955 The meaning of the explosions of i April was not clear at first to the Cyprus Government. Even the nomenclature was confusing. Some pamphlets appeared signed EOKA, others bore the equally confusing mark of 'EMAK'. It was not known whether 'Dighenis' was a man or a committee. The discovery of a big arms store at Limassol on 3 April containing 300 Ib. of gelignite, 24 smoke grenades, detonators, and ammunition for a light-machine gun, was less equivocal. But doubt remained whether the organizers of this outbreak were able or intended to sustain their actions, and Armitage's security advisers told him to expect a lull until the Greek Easter; only if violence continued after that, they said, could it be assumed that a serious challenge to the Government's authority was unfolding.1 The Greek reaction in the island to the event was inscrutable. In the press and the cafes there was no ready approval of the saboteurs, but neither was there much criticism.2 The Turks kept their own counsel. Everybody watched everybody else, to see what would happen next. As was usual in such circumstances, Her Majesty's Government immediately promised the Governor whatever reinforcements were needed to ensure law and order. But the Governor was also expected to explain why things seemed to be getting out of control. The omission to guard Government buildings, despite the recent tension, was a source of embarrassment and criticism. Armitage's explanation, that although it was known that guns and explosives had been smuggled into Cyprus 'there was no indication from any source that they were about to be used', did not go down very well.3 In fact, the local authorities had expected trouble to emerge—as it had in 1931—more or less spontaneously during the course of a demonstration or the anniversary celebrations which figured so largely in the Greek calendar. They had not anticipated cool, premeditated terrorism of the sort previously associated with Jewish extremists in Palestine. After i April Armitage had no choice but to request the Commander-in-Chief at Middle East Headquarters, with whom his own relations had hitherto been distant and rather formal, to provide static guards for Government installations, whilst the desperately under-strength Police were diverted to mobile patrols. But his priority was, as he explained to Lennox-Boyd, 'not to create the impression that these [subversive] activities have disrupted the normal life of the Government and people of Cyprus',4 and to go ahead with his public engagements as usual. This was understandable and even wise, but was capable of being represented as 1

For a security evaluation see Armitage to Lennox-Boyd, 20 May 1955, FO37I/117632, RGio8i/339. 2 Armitage to Lennox-Boyd, 19 May 1955, FO37I/117637, RGio8i/477. 3 4 ArmitagetoLennox-Boyd,5 Apr. i955,FO37i/ii7o29,RGio8i/2oo. Ibid.

5^

2 April-3 October 1955

complaisant. In both Kenya and Malaya local civilian authorities had recently been accused of idly standing by whilst subversion had taken root around them. 5 This accusation now began to be made about the Cyprus administration. Almost as soon as news of the explosions arrived in London, it was arranged that General Sir Gerald Templer, who had so successfully combated Communist insurgents in Malaya,6 should visit Cyprus to see what was needed to 'ginger u p . . . what is patently an inadequate security force'.7 Whilst there he was inevitably influenced by the widespread irritation felt in military circles towards the 'business as usual' tendencies of civilian officials, and especially an alleged lack of'grip' on the part of the Governor. Templer recommended that the numbers and morale of the Cyprus Police be urgently improved, and in particular that the glaring omission of a Special Branch should be rectified. Complaints about the efficiency of the intelligence set-up in the colony was to run right through the Emergency, although the most profound roots of this problem in the recent colonial history of the island largely escaped analysis. Templer's adverse comments when he got back to London on what he had found, nevertheless, compounded Eden's exasperation that the local Government was still not doing enough to help itself, and it seems likely—though there is no proof—that it was at this point that the option of replacing the Governor first began to enter the reckoning. If security was necessarily the first preoccupation after i April, there was also the problem of what to do on the constitutional front. The advent of subversion deepened this dilemma in various ways. One aspect of Athens Radio propaganda which had especially worried the Cyprus authorities for some time was the singling out of individual Greek-Cypriots known to have dealings with the British as 'traitors'. If a new constitutional offer was made, any citizen who spoke favourably of it might well be at risk of assassination; failure to protect such persons would destroy the credibility of British rule. This was a key factor in the discussions of the Executive Council. Despite the risks, Armitage came down once again on the side of making some move, though not without the usual haverings and doubts.8 On 5 April 1955, however, Eden succeeded Churchill as Prime Minister (the last official document handled by Churchill in Downing Street was the report of the enquiry he had earlier instituted into the size of the Middle East Headquarters in Cyprus—too late to act on).9 Eden needed his own mandate if his authority to govern was not to be impaired, and a 5 High Commissioner Henry Gurney in Malaya and Governor Sir Philip Mitchell in Kenya, for example, provide contemporary analogues to Armitage's career in Cyprus, not least in their often abrasive relations with London. See David Throup, The Economic ami Social Origins of Man Man (London, 1988) and Richard Stubbs, Hearts and Minds in Guerrilla Warfare: The Malayan Emergency, 1948-60 (Singapore, 1989). '' For an account of Templer's success in repressing the Communist insurgency in Malaya, which was to provide such a desirable, if elusive, parallel for Cyprus, see Richard Cloake, Templer. Lion of Malaya (London, 1993). 7 Nutting to Eden, i Apr. 1955, FO37I/117629, RGio8i/242. * Armitage, telegram to Colonial Office, 12 Apr. 1055^0926/258. '' Anthony Montague-Brown, Long Sunset: Memoirs of Winston Churchill's Last Private Secretary (London, 1995), p. 183.

Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, 1954-*959

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general election was duly called. As a Foreign Office official told Peake in Athens, this made any hint of giving in to the demands of terrorists impossible to contemplate, and the Cyprus proposals promptly disappeared into 'cold storage'.10 There they were to remain frozen for some time. The pattern in which British domestic politics habitually ran athwart Cypriot affairs was to become engraved in the basic structure of the conflict. The new Foreign Secretary in the Eden ministry was Harold Macmillan, and to some people at least this provided a chance to lance the Cypriot boil. As wartime 'Viceroy' in the Mediterranean, Macmillan had worked closely with leading Greek figures. The retired elder statesman Lord Halifax, writing to congratulate him on his promotion, reminded Macmillan of these past friendships they had shared.11 He also took the opportunity to say that a number of eminent Greeks had told him that the Cyprus matter could easily be solved 'if we only show understanding of Greek feelings and not slam doors etc.'; all the British Government had done in recent years, Halifax complained, was 'to barricade ourselves in and dig trenches deeper and slam all the doors tighter'. The Foreign Secretary replied that 'we [the British Government] cannot afford to give any impression that we are on the run in Cyprus' lest it weaken the British position elsewhere in the Middle East.12 In the months ahead, making clear that Britain was not on the run in the Middle East was the dominant motif of the Eden government; and just as Harold Macmillan was to prove plus royaliste que k rot over the Egyptian question,13 so he was to do so over what was, in this context, its Cypriot appendage. Events were to be profoundly shaped as a consequence. Nevertheless, in writing to Halifax, the Foreign Secretary did feel able to offer the optimistic gloss that there was a chance of progress 'if we could get a moratorium on violence'. The question was, how might such a moratorium be brought about? What would be its price, and who might pay it? Nobody wanted or needed a moratorium more than the Cyprus Government, and on 29 May Armitage sent a cri de cceur to the Permanent Head of the Colonial Office in which the frayed nerves of his administration were evident. In a reference to the barrier seemingly raised in London against any foreseeable prospect of political progress inside the colony, he bluntly told Sir Thomas Lloyd If we have no rallying point [in Cyprus] we can't go on as we are defending a negative... Will we be able to maintain internal security [in Cyprus] if sabotage, riots and attacks on individuals are intensified? If we cannot maintain order through police and civil means, it will require troops. Can we contemplate... another Palestine or Canal Zone? Some say that things can never be as bad as that in Cyprus. But if desperate people decided that they are to [be], how can they be prevented? Who will be on our side—some terrified Turks and Armenians?14 10 11 12 13 14

Ward to Peake, 23 Apr. 1955, FO37i/ii763i,RGio8i/3O4. Lord Halifax to Macmillan, 18 Apr. 1955^0371/117630^01081/297. Macmillan to Halifax, 26 Apr. 1955, ibid. Keith Kyle, The Suez Crisis (London, 1991), p. 228. Armitage to Thomas Lloyd, 26 May 1955, FOi 17/637, RGioSi /46s.

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2April-3 October 1955

This was the authentic plea of a colonial administration facing what it feared might become an uncontrollable situation. Armitage's nightmare vision was not to be far from the mark. But if the Governor was desperate for a rally of the local forces of moderation and non-violence, the Conservative Government needed a rallying-point amongst its own parliamentary supporters at home, just as British diplomacy needed to mobilize its psychological and material weight against Middle Eastern nationalism—indeed, these last two imperatives were more than ever closely connected. These rival imperatives did not match up with each other, and in key respects were in contradistinction. What might 'rally' disaffected Cypriots—if only through renewed quiesence—behind British rule was just as likely to divide opinion in the imperial metropole, and convey a fatal message of weakness to the watching world. In the Foreign Office Armitage's plea was therefore written off as 'a form of Danegeld'— Danegeld which Eden, always vulnerable to barbs from sterner members of his own party, could not afford to pay." Nor was Armitage's analogy between the undeniably uncomfortable situation in Cyprus and the grave dilemmas which had led to the British departure from Palestine, and which still assailed them in Egypt, accepted as valid. First, both in Palestine and Egypt the United Kingdom had lacked allies in the local population to allow them to fight back effectively. Secondly, in these other places Britain had not enjoyed external support—rather the opposite. It was at least possible to view Cyprus in a contrasting light, so that where Armitage saw only 'a few terrified Turks and Armenians', ministers and many officials in London identified the key to a more pugnacious defence of the British stake. There was to be an internal dimension to this strategy, but it was the foreign policy aspect—what was described as 'bringing Turkey into the centre of the picture' of discussions about Cyprus16— which was central to Foreign Office calculations. This might not stop riots, sabotage, or attacks on individuals in the island. But then coping with such things was not the Foreign Office's job. What it might conceivably achieve was to set the status quo in a kind of international aspic, if only by the sheer political venom of the animosities aroused. Such stabilization, however necessarily brittle in the circumstances, was all that the essential interests of Her Majesty's Government required. Bringing the Turks into the centre of the picture meant something more than merely relying, as hitherto, on their support in New York, or using them as a convenient excuse for inaction. The fact that such an internationalization of the dispute came to the fore under Macmillan's aegis as Foreign Secretary was not just fortuitous. In fact, he was always to seek to 'solve' the Cyprus problem through complicated international means, rather than by engaging with the details of internal Cypriot politics—details which he looked upon with disdain. In this regard the remark made by a recent biographer that Macmillan—in striking contrast, for example, to Eden—was never very interested in the British Empire, or immersed in its distinctive problems, is relevant.17 Where Eden's 'medicine' for the ills of Cyprus 15 17

lfl Thompson, minute, 4 June 1955, ibid. Ibid. John Turner, Macmillan (London, 1996), pp. 178-9.


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was an energetic and straightforward repression, Macmillan's cure lay in bringing international leverage to bear. This tactic was at once potentially more powerful and less direct—both of which appealed to his way of conducting political business. It was also more dangerous. During the summer of 1955 Cyprus became a kind of laboratory for his preferred modus operandi. This approach crystallized around the idea of calling a three-power international conference of Britain, Greece, and Turkey, ostensibly to deal with strategic issues in the eastern Mediterranean as a whole. In practice the conference would be used to spring on Greece the solution of a tri-dominion over Cyprus whereby the United Kingdom retained sovereignty, but in which Turkey as well as Greece would play a role in the administration of the island, much to the detriment of the Greek position. By pulling the rabbit of a de facto settlement out of his conference hat, Macmillan would consolidate his position as Eden's own heir apparent—a consideration which vitally influenced his actions over Cyprus, as they did even more significantly over Egypt. A notable aspect of this scheme as it began to be thrashed out after May 1955 was that there were to be no Cypriot representatives at the envisaged conference. Their absence would be the key to its success, because only by excluding them could the internal complexion of the island be subordinated to the international and regional factors which Macmillan was bent on exploiting. Such a coup de theatre had its appeal—except for those on the British side facing the backwash that was bound to be caused in and around the colony itself. Armitage was quick to object that the manipulation of a conference in the manner proposed would be widely seen as nothing more than a ruse 'to prevent the possibility of [the] emergence of a Cypriot nation and a Cypriot government';18 the only effect, the Governor said, would be to precipitate more, not less, violence inside the island by heightening the misunderstanding which already existed. These doubts were shared in the Colonial Office, never slow to recognize hare-brained Foreign Office schemes for tackling colonial problems. For the moment, however, the Governor was above all preoccupied with keeping up the appearances of normality around him. In this regard he faced a symbolic decision at the beginning of June—whether to repeat the practice followed ever since the start of British occupation and remove the seat of administration during the scorching summer from Nicosia to the relative cool of the hill-station at Troodos. His intention to stick with tradition played into the hands of Armitage's growing band of critics at home, and the Colonial Secretary reluctantly ordered him to stay at his post in the Cypriot capital.19 It was probably as well since on 19 June the real slide to violence began. The key battle-ground at this stage of the incipient rebellion was the Police. After General Templer's visit in mid-April, the Cyprus Government had set about strengthening that cadre, which in the first instance meant increasing its numbers. When very few Greeks responded to the call, the Government resorted to pressuring 18 19

Armitage to Lennox-Boyd, 8 June 1955,00926/259. Lyttelton, minute, 19June 1955,00926/141.

6o


some of its own public servants to join the part-time constabulary, though not to much avail. This was the first sign of a crack within the heart of the administration. For Grivas it was of the utmost importance to drive a wedge between the Police and the bulk of the population; it was also necessary to attack Police stations in order to loot their weapons—the more guns obtained inside the island, the less dependent EOKA would become on the erratic supply from Greece. Both these motives entered into EOKA's actions from 19 June onwards. On that day there were several explosions at Police installations in Nicosia and Kyrenia. On 21 June the front of the Divisional Police Headquarters in Ataturk Square was blown in, injuring five persons and killing one; this brought EOKA violence into the Turkish quarter of the city for the first time. Far more perturbing to the authorities was the attack on Amiandos Police Station the following day by men armed with machine guns, who singled out for assassination a Greek Police Sergeant active in the newly established Special Branch. The obvious deduction was that the terrorist organization was obtaining inside information on key targets. The Cyprus Government had always been something of a sieve—the Greek press was full of speculation, often accurate, about confidential Government business. Here were the roots of the situation whereby the British Army in Cyprus and EOKA relied on the same Police force for the information on which their respective operations came to be based,20 which was one reason why the military story of the Emergency, not unlike its political counterpart, simply went round in circles. This porousness within the Police became in the summer of 1955 a matter of life and death for individuals. Over the next weeks intimidation of Greek-Cypriot personnel in the Police continued. The murder on 13 August of a Special Constable, Nicki Stavros, well known as a local football star, made a major impact; his brother's grieving letter in the press excoriating the murderers for creating in Cyprus 'a hell of terrorism for liberty' 21 might be taken as marking the beginning—in a way the explosions of i April had not—of a nightmare within local Greek society. But it was also a serious defeat for the Cyprus Government. 'The Police Are Out Of The Fight' EOKA graffiti in Nicosia declared afterwards. Certainly a large proportion of Greek Police became useless so far as combating EOKA was concerned. To fill the gap in the security machine the Cyprus Government announced during August the formation of an Auxiliary Police Force, and this proved from the outset to be composed almost exclusively of Turks.22 Armitage's prophecy that British rule might end up reliant on 'a few terrified Turks and Armenians', was under way. What Armitage could not have anticipated was the degree to which the Turks would exploit their advantage, and the lengths to which the British and Cyprus Governments might eventually go—or be pushed—to offset their weakness by manipulating the wider balance of power between the main 211

Doras Alastos, Cyprus Guerrilla: Grivas, Makarios and the British (London, 1960), p. 125. Times of Cyprus (IT, Aug. 1955). 22 For background, see David Anderson, 'Policing and Communal Conflict: The Cyprus Emergency, 1954-60' in R. F. Holland (cd.), Emergencies and Disorder in the European Empires after 1945 (London, 1994). 21


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indigenous communities. The communalization of the Cyprus Police was to unfold as a critical index of this phenomenon. EOKA's actions after 19/20 June confirmed and intensified the physical struggle between the Government and the 'men of violence' in Cyprus, and put the political contest on to a new plane. 'Step by step', the United States Consul in Nicosia, Raymond Courtney, who had himself just narrowly escaped a bomb blast, reported to Washington at the end of that month, 'the Enosists have tested it [the Cyprus Government] out, and... proved that they can get away with open and even violent defiance.'23 Certainly, any attempt to sustain the appearance of normality ceased to be credible. Once this Rubicon was crossed, Armitage and his advisers lurched towards the declaration of an Emergency and the additional powers which went with it. Plans existed for extensive arrests once such an announcement was made, and several key suspects had already been taken into custody. One of Armitage's principal concerns in wishing to inaugurate such a formal change was that otherwise these men would soon have to be released.24 This proposal met with a blank refusal in London. On 30 June Macmillan had formally announced the British intention to hold an Eastern Mediterranean Conference, and invitations were issued to Greece and Turkey. Everything hinged on the Greek Government being prepared to attend this meeting; whilst any announcement of an Emergency in Cyprus was bound to make the Athenian horse bolt prematurely. Armitage's subsequent plea that the 'lives of men of extreme importance in the Police are at risk' was therefore met only to the extent that he was allowed to continue planning in secret for a crack-down.25 Nor was Armitage's additional argument—not so much in contradiction to further arrests as might be superficially supposed—that self-determination had become 'the one real, vital, allabsorbing point', and that any White Paper published in connection with the projected Tripartite Conference which omitted dealing with this point would be 'so much waste paper',26 likely to meet with more sympathy. When the Cabinet met on 7 July these requests were swept aside.27 There was one matter, however, on which it was possible to give the beleaguered Governor some modest satisfaction. For several weeks Armitage had pressed hard for a visit by the Colonial Secretary to see Cypriot conditions for himself, and hopefully appreciate his problems more vividly. It was this request which the Cabinet—once assured by the Governor that he could provide cast-iron security for Lennox-Boyd, whose assassination would obviously have been a major disaster for the Government28—duly approved. 23 R. Courtney to State Department, 30 June 1955, Box 3273, RGsg, State Department Records, USNA. 24 Thompson,minute,24June i955,FO37i/ii7639,RGio8i/5O9. 25 Armitage, telegram to Lennox-Boyd, 30 June 1955, €0926/259. 26 Armitage to Martin, 26 June 1955, €0926/265. 27 Conclusions of meeting held at 10 Downing Street, 7 July 1955, CM (55) 21 CABi28/29. 28 See brief for Cabinet (7 July) on 'Internal Security of Cyprus' in FO37i/n642, RGio8i/625. Ministers would have had very much in mind as precedents Gurney's assassination in Malaya in 1951, and perhaps even more appositely in this case, that of Lord Moyne, British Resident Minister in the Middle East, in Cairo during 1944.

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When Lennox-Boyd, wasting no time, arrived in Nicosia on the morning of Saturday, 9 July, accompanied by a very senior official, Sir John Martin, he was the first Secretary of State for Colonies ever to visit Cyprus. It was a visit, obviously, of some delicacy. One of its subsidiary purposes was for the British Government to be able to say at the forthcoming conference that a genuine consultation with Cypriot opinion had taken place as part of the preparations. At the same time ministers were concerned that Lennox-Boyd's presence in the island should not build up unvrarrarited expectations—not only amongst Cypriots. To dispel any illusions the Colonial Office had made it perfectly clear to Armitage beforehand that whilst Lennox-Boyd would be prepared to discuss a new 'liberal' constitution in Cyprus, he could not discuss selfdetermination. Going straight from the airport to a meeting with the Governor and his Executive Council, Lennox-Boyd reiterated that he had come chiefly as a token of support for the Government and its supporters—nothing more.29 Armitage tried hard to focus the meeting on the offer of a constitution which, he said, 'would give the people of Cyprus something to work for', and warned the minister that '[a] policy of laissezfaire . . . was likely to have very serious consequences'.10 Lennox-Boyd was careful, however, not to be drawn beyond what he knew to be the Cabinet position. If LennoxBoyd was reticent with Armitage, he was naturally even more so during his subsequent encounters with various Cypriot delegations the following day. He learned more from them than they did from him. The farming representatives told him that 'on the political side the rural people were all agreed'—only self-determination would satisfy their aspirations." The left-wing Mayors told him the same. He assured the latter that Cypriot views would be borne in mind during the coming conference, although his attempts to steer the conversation on to social and economic improvement fell flat. With the right-wing mayors Lennox-Boyd did not bother even to do that, and simply grinned and bore the Nationalists' denunciations of the impending conference. 'The over-riding desire of the whole Greek population of Cyprus was for Enosis\ the Mayor of Nicosia, Dr Dervis, declared, 'and in this sense EOKA and the Greek people of Cyprus are the same.'12 This was verging on blatant sedition, though as the Times of Cyprus remarked, Dervis could hardly be prosecuted for saying to Lennox-Boyd what he could have from the lips of every Greek taxi-driver in the city." Even the TurkishCypriot representatives—whom he saw last of all—did not give Lennox-Boyd an easy time, taxing him with the alleged oppressions and discriminations suffered by their community at the hands of the British administration—complaints which LennoxBoyd sought repeatedly to deflect by underlining throughout Her Majesty's Government's 'appreciation of the sturdy loyalty of the Turkish community'.14 2

* Minutes of an Extraordinary Meeting of the Cyprus Executive Council, Saturday, 9 July 1955, 01)926/190. " Ibid. 1 Minutes of meeting at Government House, Nicosia with representatives of rural interests, 10 July 1955, CO926/190. 1 Minutes of meeting with right-wing mayors, 10 July 1955, ibid. 1 r/m«»/C)'/>««(3Julyi955). 4 Minutes of meeting with Turkish Representatives, 10 July 1955, CO926/I9O.

Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, / 954-7 959

63

The most important meeting that Lennox-Boyd had in Cyprus, however, was that with Archbishop Makarios on the afternoon of his arrival. It marked the beginning of the Archbishop's personal dealings with British authority. If the worsening violence at this time constituted a crisis for the Cyprus Government, so it did for Makarios— arguably more so. Rumours had already begun that the initiative was slipping into the hands of extremists on the Greek side, and, ominously, that Turkish-Cypriots were gathering arms of their own to combat Enosis (this incipient organization was said to be called 'Volkan'). A first indication that Makarios' position was not wholly intransigent came when he had seen the local Anglican Archdeacon a few days before and told him that he fully appreciated how sterile the slogan ''Enosis and only Enosis' had become, and that 'he was sure the right answer to all these questions could easily be found if only the British Government would move away from the "No Change" position and allow him some room for negotiation'.35 In explaining his difficulties Makarios also told Archdeacon Goldie something else: that he could not openly denounce the violence of EOKA without putting his own life at risk.36 He was on various occasions in the future to refer to this constraint in his conversations with British interlocutors; almost invariably it was rebuffed as a mark of his indecisiveness as a politician, or—since few pejoratives were to be spared in the Archbishop's case—as a sign of personal cowardice. It was a variation on the complex contradictions of the British view of Makarios that he was seen as both the veiled leader of EOKA, and a potential victim of it (the only attempt to assassinate Makarios, indeed, was to be by a Greek hand). For the present, the Archbishop was already signalling in advance of the Colonial Secretary's arrival that he was more moderate than his own rhetoric might suggest. The meeting of the Colonial Secretary and the Archbishop, with the Governor in attendance, took place, appropriately enough, in the card-room of the Ledra Palace Hotel, amidst security described by one experienced British correspondent as 'the toughest I have ever seen, even in wartime'.37 An aide of Makarios did the translating—although Makarios spoke English accurately, if slowly, the precise meaning of words was always to be a potential pitfall in his interchanges with the British. The Archbishop began by criticizing the 'crooked approach' of using an international conference to make Cyprus into an explosive and deadlocked issue, before asking Lennox-Boyd what he meant when he referred to the possibility of constitutional development in the island.38 The minister maintained a discreet silence about the conference—about which he had, in fact, his own doubts—but explained that full internal self-government had to be successfully experimented with before further moves might be made. Their discussion moved on to the subject of violence, in the course of which Makarios explained that he could not put himself at odds with his own people by an open denunciation of EOKA. To this Lennox-Boyd replied firmly 35 Conversation between Archbishop Makarios and Archdeacon Goldie, 27 June 1955, FO37I/117641, RGio8i/595. 36 Ibid. " Times of Cyprus (10 July 1955). 38 Meeting at Ledra Palace Hotel, 9 July 1955^0371/117641^01081/595.

64

2 April-j October 7955

that 'he [Makarios] knew his own influence, and it was up to him to use it'.39 Finally, and most revealingly, the exchanges bumped up against the ultimate difference of self-determination. Makarios and Lennox-Boyd fenced on this topic, before Armitage intervened—it was the only occasion he spoke—to ask Makarios directly if the offer of a constitution incorporating self-determination after afixed'periodfmight be acceptable. Makarios replied that 'such an offer would provide ground for discussion. He [Makarios] would agree to a meeting on that basis'.40 In theory at least, this suggestion, and the Archbishop's response to it, opened up an area for possible negotiation. Shortly afterwards the meeting broke up with that courteous but somewhat frigid formality which always characterized Anglo-Greek discourse in the colony. The future course of Makarios' dealings with the British was foreshadowed in this first encounter. There were three great imponderables, of which the question of an interim self-governing ('liberal') constitution was the most complicated, violence was the most emotional, and self-determination the most decisive. But, however these might appear to be separated out, it was the way they tended to fuse together which made understanding so difficult. This was symbolized by the bombs which exploded inside the main Secretariat building in Nicosia during the Colonial Secretary's stay (that EOKA could penetrate the inner sanctum of Government was a blow to confidence). The triggering of devices by the terrorists at crucial moments of contact between British officialdom and the Archbishop became part of a recurrent pattern, though who was intimidating whom was perhaps more convoluted than the British assumed. Nevertheless, these explosions helped to sour Lennox-Boyd's last few hours in the colony. Nor was his departure assisted when it turned out that his return flight to London via Rome with British European Airways was to be shared by a Nationalist delegation on its way to lobby European capitals. Crowds ofEnosis supporters surrounded the tarmac—Nicosia was a small, intimate airport—and the Secretary of State mounted the aeroplane amidst a flurry of Greek flag-waving. In Cyprus, as so often, a certain unintended but amiable irony could yet serve as a counter-point to high political emotions. When the Colonial Secretary got home, planning for the Tripartite Conference to be held in London was in full swing within the Foreign Office. The Turkish Government had accepted the invitation on 2 July, and on 8 July the Greek Government followed suit. In securing these acceptances, explicit assurances were given to both Athens and Ankara that the British Government would not attempt a fait accompli by 'bouncing' the conference with a Cyprus plan of its own. This was exactly what Macmillan intended to do. Although the plan he began to evolve came to be referred to amongst the civil servants as a tridominium, the term was not really appropriate, since Greece and Turkey were merely to be invited to appoint 'Assessors' to advise the Governor and his Executive Council on certain matters. Because the Foreign Secretary's main purpose was to 'bury' self-determination, it was, he argued, tactically necessary to be 'really bold' with regard to self-government, in order to 'set Left and •w Meeting at Ledra Palace Hotel.

*' Ibid.


65

Right in Cyprus fighting one another and forgetting Enosii (this was where 'liberalism' came in).41 A vital element in the conference scheme concerned the date. This had been left out of the original invitations. By delaying its occurrence till the end of August, the Greek Government might be lulled into optimism about an outcome favourable to their hopes, and not have the time, once this was confounded, to go through all the procedures involved in inscribing Cyprus again on the agenda of the forthcoming United Nations session. Averting further discussion in New York was the underlying objective of the whole exercise. This scenario did not, of course, bode well for relations with Greece. Ambassador Peake, for example, warned that the moment the British suggested that Turkey regain a role in the administration of Cyprus after the long interval since 1878, the Greeks would walk out of the conference. What Peake did not grasp was that this was far from being seen as disadvantageous in Whitehall. 'This is an excellent point,' a Foreign Office official noted approvingly. 'On this showing the [Tripartite] talks are bound to break down—and possibly explode.'42 The high-risk nature of this gambit, and its not entirely respectable character, generated tensions. The United States Embassy in London sensed this when their usual Whitehall contacts appeared 'more and more jumpy' whenever Cyprus was mentioned, and finally clammed up altogether.43 Relations between departments in Whitehall assumed a fractious tone. Colonial Office officials were instinctively opposed to subjecting a complicated problem in their own sphere of responsibility to all the distortions of international politics. Whatever may have been true earlier, most saw the advantages in steering the Cyprus problem if possible back into the more conventional channels of internal colonial political development which were working well enough elsewhere in the remaining British Empire. Hostility to the Macmillan plan was forcefully expressed by the Assistant Under-Secretary, H. T. Bourdillon, who caustically remarked that the scheme was in truth not one for 'tridominium', but for 'Pan-demonium', and that the real purpose seemed to be to kill 'any chance of the Cypriots making up their own minds about their future in conditions of orderly progress'.44 'I am disturbed . . . that we are aiming for a deadlock,' Bourdillon remarked in terms Makarios himself might have approved, adding acidly, 'with great respect I do urge that we ... pursue our proposal for selfdetermination with the real object of bringing it about, regarding it as I think we do as the only means of achieving a permanent solution.' Nevertheless, the ball had effectively been taken out of the Colonial Office court. Nor is there much sign that Alan Lennox-Boyd—always caught between the pragmatism of his department and his close alignment with the 'colonial' right-wing within his own party—pressed with any vigour on his senior colleagues the compromise of self-determination after a fixed interval which Armitage had floated with Archbishop Makarios in Nicosia. 41

W. Morris, minute, 17 Aug. 1955,00926/259. R. Selby, minute, 23 July 1955, FO37I/117645, RGio8i/7o6. 43 E. Wilson (London) to F. Wood (State Department), 4 Aug. 1955, Box 3273, RG59, State Department Records, USNA. 44 H. Bourdillon to Martin, 23 July 1955,00926/259. 42

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On 7 August the Cabinet confirmed that at the Tripartite Conference any mention of self-determination should be excluded. 'It would now seem to be impossible', a minute in the Colonial Office recorded, 'to find a formula which would be acceptable to both the Cabinet and the Cypriots.'45 This careful formulation of the essential struggle was itself very telling. The Cabinet decision of 7 August in effect handed the initiative in British policy, temporarily, to Macmillan. Everything now hinged on the management of the conference—and of the explosion, or more properly the threat of an explosion, which was part and parcel of the strategy of bringing Greece to heel over Cyprus. But why had the Greek Government accepted an invitation which many people pointed out might be used for a hostile purpose? For one thing, the Americans pressed them to accept, and in doing so gave assurances that the conference was a genuine attempt on Britain's part to forge a compromise. Whilst some parts of Greek opinion reacted strongly against the matching invitation to Turkey, Greek ministers had never denied that Ankara had a legitimate interest in the Muslim minority in the island. What they did not accept was that Turkey had an equivalent interest in Cyprus to that of Greece. No hint of this had been given in the invitation precisely to avoid scaring them off. Entry to a conference on Eastern Mediterranean affairs in London afforded a recognition of Greece's integration into the West, the yearning for which was still close to the sensitive surface of Athenian political psychology. While, therefore, Archbishop Makarios rushed to Athens on 11 July and pressed on politicians his suspicions of British tactics, he could not sway them. In accepting the conference invitation, the Greek Foreign Minister, Stephanoupoulos, told Macmillan in Strasbourg that he hoped it would mark the 'renewal of the traditional friendship between Greece and the United Kingdom', though he added the rider that the 'centre of gravity' of the Greek position over Cyprus remained self-determination.46 Makarios had, however, gained one compensation: it was simultaneously announced in Athens that if the Tripartite meeting proved abortive, Greece remained committed to raising Cyprus at the United Nations thereafter. This episode served, nonetheless, to intensify the rivalry between the Archbishop and the 'Rally' ministry, the latter made weaker by Papagos' illness (he was dying of cancer, and from the late summer was never seen again in public). When Makarios preached at Trooditissa monastery on 15 August, he strikingly emphasized not the theme of Enosis, but that of 'liberty', stressing in his address that Cypriots 'could manage their own fate and future'. The potential of Cyprus for dividing British officialdom always paled besides its capacity to set Greeks against each other. Yet the most ominous possibility was not that of setting Greek against Greek, or Left against Right, but rather that of setting Greek against Turk and vice versatriggering, that is, ethnic rivalry, with all its capacity for a more extended violence than that currently blighting the island's life. We must at this point go back 45

Bennett, minute, 3 Aug. 1955, 00926/259. ' Macmillan, telegram to Foreign Office, 6July 1955, FO37I/117641, RGio8i/594.

4r


67

somewhat on our chronology to focus more sharply on developments within the Turkish-Cypriot community, and its relations with both the Cyprus and Turkish Governments, since so much was eventually to hinge on these factors. The volatility of Greek-Cypriot politics during the early 19505 had been echoed on the Turkish side where a new, essentially opportunist grouping, the Federation of Turkish Associations, sought to monopolize minority politics, just as the Enosists strove to dominate majority politics. What the Federation wanted, however, was not merely guarantees against any future Greek domination, but distinct privileges within the existing order—privileges which, it was calculated, the hard-pressed Cyprus Government might be badgered into giving them. Furthermore, in trying to extract such advantages—including Federation control over the Evkaf, with its money and patronage, over a revived Muftiship, as well as special rights in education—TurkishCypriot politicians set out to secure the sponsorship of Ankara. That it was the Turkish-Cypriots who in the first instance embroiled a reluctant 'Motherland' on their own behalf, not the other way round, is noteworthy, since it was a fact later obscured by the degree to which the Cypriot Muslims became purely and simply the pawns of Ankara's diplomacy, in stark contrast to the more complex and fractious relations always subsisting between Greek-Cypriots and Athens. The classic approach of the Cyprus authorities to its Muslim subjects, and intercommunal relations generally, was laid out by Governor Sir Andrew Wright when he had visited the Turkish capital in December 1953—the visit itself, indeed, was a sign of heightened concern with Turkish-Cypriot political activity in the colony. On that occasion Wright stated his Government's aim that 'the Turks in Cyprus should develop from their past history as good Turks, just as the Greeks should develop as good Greeks. It was not their policy to attempt to turn either Turks or Greeks into Englishmen.'47 Wright went on to warn the British Ambassador to Turkey, Sir James Bbwker, that 'it would not be either wise or helpful' to enlist the influence of the Turkish Government to counter the Greek movement in Cyprus; and he concluded with the stern declaration that the Government in Nicosia 'must be master in its own house'. Mastery in its colonial house, insofar as communal matters were concerned, meant preserving a stable equilibrium in which British authority could not be credibly impeached as favouring one community over the other. During the Emergency, and ever afterwards, much Greek-Cypriot opinion came to believe that the British power in the island had sought to 'divide and rule' ever since their arrival in 1878. The truth was that as late as the beginning of 1954 the beau ideal of British rule in Cyprus was not to be soiled and compromised by involvement in communal politics, but rather to be suspended above it, mitigated only by encouragement to the Turkish underdog to 'keep its end up' within Cypriot society and commerce. The trouble was that circumstances made such impartiality—at once benevolent and self-interested—increasingly hard to sustain. Initially the guidelines shifted almost imperceptibly. After Wright's visit, the British Embassy in Ankara, backed 47

'Sir Andrew Wright's Visit to Turkey', i Dec. 1953,03926/183.

68


by the Foreign Office in London, maintained its pressure for some 'discreet differentiation' to be shown to Turkish-Cypriots over their Greek compatriots.48 Whereas Wright, for all his passionate contempt ofEnosis, was in fact more interested in Greek than Turkish affairs—his wife, for what it is worth, was a Greek-speaker—Armitage began his Governorship when conditions were forcibly edging the administration towards meeting at least some Turkish desiderata. Discreet differentiation shortly began to assume a more overtly political form. Something of this atmosphere is conveyed by the report of the two British counsellors from the Ankara Embassy who visited the colony in June 1954, and whose report recorded that the local authorities had taken 'considerable trouble for us to meet the majority of the responsible and reliable Turks on the island'. Although, the account added, this category amounted to no more than ten individuals, it was noted that things seemed about to improve since 'a number of younger men were coming on'.4" 'Coming on' meant tacit grooming under British patronage; one of these rising stars in the small Turkish-Cypriot world was Rauf Denktash, just then beginning a legal and political career in which his relationships with the British were to turn full circle not once, but several times over. As we noted previously, it was the need to lubricate this gradually tightening Anglo-Turkish tie within the island which was one factor shaping the fateful 'Never' statement of 28 July 1954. Meanwhile, the everyday realities of communal coexistence in Cyprus remained, if not impervious, then resistant to fundamental change. There were no communal incidents during the United Nations debates in the autumn of 1954. The outbreak of violence on the island on i April 1955 inevitably had an impact on communal affairs, as the banding together of various Muslim bodies (including the Federation) into the 'Cyprus is Turkish Party' suggested. Yet for some time there was no direct conflict between the two main ethnic groups. EOKA violence was initially directed against British installations, and then against Greek 'traitors'; Grivas, indeed, explicitly forbade any victimizing of Turks. In this he was quite practical—EOKA could not fight everybody at once. Rather the process of ethnic polarization at first worked indirectly by differentiating Greek and Turkish relationships with the colonial power. Whilst the Greek community, therefore, distanced itself from the British administration, local Turks seized the opportunity to press their own distinctive claims and grievances on the Cyprus Government with a new stridency—an attitude described by Armitage, whose patience quickly wore thin, as 'aping the oppressed minority'.1" Through the summer of 1955 events pushed the Turks and the British into closer harness, as the formation of the Auxiliary Police illustrated. Relations between Greeks and Turks in the colony began to change for the worse, therefore, not as a result of mutual violence or even innate hostility, but by dint of the shift in the connection each had with the local administration, and especially the security machine. The Times of Cyprus, for example, referred to the 'picture of contrasting life' between 4S +1;

N. Chectham to Pearson, 6 Jan. 1954, ibid. 'Report of a Visit to Cyprus', 3 June 1954, FOsyr/i 12848, WGio8i/i89. 5 " Armitage to Thomas Lloyd, 26 May 1955, FO37I/117637, RGio8i/465.


69 51

the two main communities as they reacted differently to events, or were variously affected by the actions of the Army and Police. In this way Greek and Turkish Cyprus were progressively sealed off from each other, allowing suspicion and even hatred to fester. This still had a long way to go on the eve of the Tripartite conference, but the possibilities were visible enough for those—on all sides—with an interest in exploiting racial and religious feeling. The same complex distortions began to obtrude at the international level. The mainland Turkish press had responded to the initial news of i April, not by outright attacks on the Greeks, but by criticizing the Cyprus Government for failing to prevent the outrage. Although the Ankara regime distanced itself from the more extreme of these outbursts, so that Prime Minister Menderes refused an audience to the Turkish-Cypriot delegation which immediately rushed to Ankara, it was not long before signs emerged that the Turkish Government was 'raising its price' for supporting the United Kingdom.52 For the British, it was vital that as much of the price of Turkish help as possible was paid by people other than themselves. In this connection considerable interest was taken in the Foreign Office when it appeared that a campaign was under way in Turkey to implicate in the dispute the Orthodox Patriarchate of Istanbul, with its penumbra of Greek civilization and commerce. This was described in London as having 'interesting possibilities';53 there was also a recrudescence of the sentiment, expressed at a slightly earlier point, that 'a few riots in Ankara would do us nicely',54 the implication being that such disturbances would provide a useful background to events by obscuring all traces of Turkish 'equivocations' over the Cyprus issue. In this context riots in Ankara (where there was no exposed Greek community) was one thing, and in Istanbul quite another. Nevertheless, Greek concern about the safety of their own compatriots in Turkish cities, and above all the preservation of the great religious and cultural legacy of Constantinople, was to emerge as a consistent thread running through the Cypriot power-struggle. Doubts and hesitations in Whitehall about the ramifications of the projected Eastern Mediterranean conference went beyond the confines of the Colonial Office. Even some individuals in the Foreign Office felt uneasy. When, however, it emerged that the Greek Government had made a preliminary overture of its own to Turkey, the Foreign Secretary instructed his officials to put aside all 'scruples' in what everybody recognized was to be a diplomatic sleight of hand.55 'The stronger the position the Turks take at the outset [of the conference] the better it will be for us and for them' was how Macmillan stated the position on 16 July.56 Sir James Bowker was set to work to get this message across to his hosts in Ankara. It was not a very difficult task 51 52 51 54 55 56

Times of Cyprus (i Aug. 1955). Wilding, minute, 15 May 1955,RGio8i/326,FOi 17631. Note on Bowker telegram to Foreign Office, i6July 1955^0371/117/643^61081/664. Wilding, minute, 14 Sept. 1954^0371/112859,^61081/500. Macmillan, telegram (Geneva) to Foreign Office, i6July 1955^0371/117642^61081/668. Macmillan (Strasbourg), telegram to Foreign Office, 17 July 1955, FO37I/117643, RGio8i/668.

70

2 Apri1~3 October 1955

for an accomplished diplomat. The consequences of setting things up in this way were to be such that it is important to be clear as to Macmillan's real purposes. He did not set out to generate violence beyond the conference chamber, though it may well be deduced that incidental violence in certain places was an acceptable risk. Nor was it his intention that the meeting itself should break up in public acrimony, though this, too, would not necessarily be bad from the British vantage-point, so long as the Greeks could be portrayed as the culprits. What Macmillan aimed at was an outcome in which the Greeks should be confronted head-on with a 'negative' Turkey, so creating a gap into which he could successfully insert himself as an arbitrator and man of peace. The problem was that it did not take much knowledge of history to realize that holding a conference between Greece and Turkey on such a basis was like standing close to a pile of explosive material with a burning brand. When Prime Minister Menderes saw the Turkish delegation off to the Tripartite Conference at the end of July he spoke emotively in his address of the 'day of massacre' which Enosis would bring to the Turks of Cyprus, and recalled the glorious triumphs of the infant Turkish Republic against Greece in 1922. When the American Embassy in Ankara, smelling danger, dispatched an official to the Turkish Foreign Office to complain at such provocative use of language, the only answer he got was that 'It had to be done'." In Cyprus the tension had risen progressively once the London conference was formally announced. One consequence was that the civil power became more and more reliant on the Army to keep control. The earlier visitation to the colony by General Templer was followed in mid-July by one from an even more august figure, the Chief of the Imperial General Staff, Field-Marshal Sir John Harding, who was on his way from an official trip to Turkey. Once back in the United Kingdom, the FieldMarshal drew up recommendations which went beyond Templer's earlier calls for the stiffening of the Police and the establishment of a Special Branch, advising the concentration of responsibility for all security operations in the hands of a supremo.58 The Governor, however, was quick to reject the analogy which Harding made with anti-insurgency campaigns in other colonies. 'All security measures in Malaya and Kenya', Armitage pointed out in his sometimes strangulated prose, 'with none of the advantages of remoteness in distance and size and [sic] of dealing with black and yellow races, will have to be used in this cradle of civilization,' including the suppression of a Christian Church.59 The Governor's point had some force. One of the themes of our account shall be that it did not prove possible to sustain in Cyprus, so close to Europe, and so easily converged upon by the world's press, methods which could often be got away with elsewhere. But such warnings were overshadowed by the necessities of the moment. Armitage had already warned that if the conference failed, a large-scale outbreak of terrorism would follow. Since the conference was 57 Warren (Ankara) to State Department, 26 Aug. 1955, Box 3273, RG59, State Department Records, USNA. 5(1 'Report on Visit to Cyprus and Turkey, 4-11 July 1955', in FO37I/I77322, RGii97/7. 5 " Armitage to Lcnnox-Boyd, 23 Aug. 1955, CQi)z6/2$i).


71

more or less bound to fail in the sense which Armitage intended—that is, in appeasing Greek feelings—a further deterioration inside the island was sure. It was doubts as to Armitage's ability to get to grips with such a situation which now put his own position in jeopardy. 'I am really worried about Cyprus,' Macmillan wrote to Eden on 16 August, forewarning him that the trouble was bound to intensify when the conference was finished. 'The real trouble is at the top. Could we not have a new Governor?'60 Whilst the suggestion of a new Governor took root in London, one immediate priority was clear: making sure that during the London Conference conditions in Cyprus were kept as calm as possible. To a rise in Police pay which helped to raise depressed morale, and the deployment of the new Auxiliary constabulary, was added a tightening of military control of road traffic, more mobile patrols in the countryside, and a fresh batch of Army reinforcements from Egypt and Malta (2,000 extra Royal Marines had arrived by early September). One innovation was of particular note: the curfew. As in Malaya, the purpose of this technique was to 'teach the villages a lesson', and to make the ordinary population fear the Government more than the men of violence. It was by way of such a pilot exercise that a small settlement at Agros, suitably high up in the Troodos mountains, was selected. A shot had been fired at a Greek policeman, and although there was no evidence that a villager had been responsible, one hundred troops and extra Police descended upon the settlement on 16 August. The inhabitants were housebound from 7 p.m. to 7 a.m., electricity was cut off, and the village swept by searchlights throughout the night. Sixty inhabitants were eventually arrested.61 One of the few British reporters who managed to get there whilst this was going on happened to have witnessed the longest, toughest curfew Templer had imposed on a Malayan village: that at Tanjong Malim.62 He found the method very similar, but there was one major contrast: the sullen Chinese villagers of Tanjong Malim bore little resemblance to the cheerful Greeks of Agros, who seemed to enjoy the break from the hard routine of minding their flocks, and in daytime were often found to be chatting to British troops over their tea. Even the local Police appeared to think that the whole thing was 'a lot of fuss about nothing'. Predictably, nobody was ever arrested for firing the original shot. But it was, the same English reporter remarked rather dramatically, transparently intended as 'a symbol, a warning, an example for the whole island'. The curfew at Agros was lifted on 21 August to assist an air of normalcy in the island when the Tripartite Conference began. Meanwhile, Special Branch enquiries had investigated the claims being made in Ankara that Greek terrorists in Cyprus were planning widespread attacks on the Muslim minority, and found them to be baseless.63 Nevertheless, detailed plans existed for clamping down rapidly on the 60

Macmillan to Eden, i6Aug. 1955, PREMi 1/834. For details of the Agros curfew see John Peck (British Middle East Organization) to Ward, 13 Aug. 1955, FO37I/117650, RGio8i/837. 62 Times of Cyprus (21 Aug. 1955). 61 Acting Governor to Colonial Office, 25 Aug. 1955, FO3717117652, RGio8i/i833. 61

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towns in case demonstrations took place. With this assurance Governor Armitage left for London himself on the 24th. But he did so under something of a cloud, since it was widely rumoured that at the first sign of renewed difficulties the Army's patience would run out and that the military commanders would demand full control over the conduct of security. Everything hinged on the outcome of the conference. 'A complete turndown ofEnosis, a repetition of Hopkinson's "never",' an editorial in the now increasingly anti-Government Times of Cyprus predicted, 'can be expected to usher in a period of strife and martial law. The cards are down.'64 The killing of another Greek policeman, Constable Poullis, on 29 August, the opening day of the London gathering, in the old town of Nicosia, along with the extensive arrest of'suspects' found to be in the area, helped to ensure that the Cypriot capital remained tense during the course of the following days. The story of the London conference will not be related in great detail here.65 Macmillan presided over the proceedings, since the Colonial Secretary was away in Africa, and only turned up for the closing stages—an index of the degree to which the Colonial Office had been sidelined in Whitehall over Cyprus policy. The Foreign Secretary kicked off the opening session with a self-confessedly 'dull and pompous' oration—a tactic which helped to lift the British Government above the fray. W) He outlined the list of British achievements in Cyprus and denied claims that British troops were engaged in a 'reign of terror' in the island/'7 Yet there was also a vein of threat when, in descrying the evils of EOKA, he sought to widen the obloquy by stating that if a 'heavy burden rests with those who commit these outrages . . . a still greater responsibility lies on those who have encouraged the perpetrators to believe that their acts of barbarism are noble and heroic' (just in case the Greek delegates did not let this pass, the Foreign Secretary had with him a prepared brief on Greek complicity in gun-running, based, inevitably loosely, on theAghios Georghioscase). After adopting this subtly threatening tone, Macmillan quickly assumed his other pose, that of conciliator and man of reason, stressing that the introduction of selfgovernment in Cyprus 'must be the first aim', though he was careful not to say precisely what he had in mind—not least since the Turkish Foreign Minister, Fatin Zorlu, had warned him personally the previous day of his Government's hostility to any new constitution for Cyprus. The British minister wound up his presentation by saying how much he looked forward to the opening statements of the Greek and Turkish Governments to be made the following day 'not only to prevent differences [over Cyprus] but to establish a still closer cooperation with our two NATO allies in the Eastern Mediterranean'. The intended effect of the Greek and Turkish responses to Macmillan's carefully 64

Times of Cyprus (24 hug. 1955)For a fuller narrative see Francois Crouzet, Le Conflit de Chypre, ii. 7946-7959, 2 vols. (Brussels, 6 i973), 9i-7°8' Ml Young, minute, 5 Aug. 1955, FO37I/117647, RGio8r/792. 67 For the published proceedings of the conference see The Tripartite Conference on the Eastern Mediterannean, August 2g-September 7 7955, Cmd. 9594 (London, HMSO, 1955). H


73

chosen words was not, of course, to prevent differences over Cyprus, but to highlight their utter irreconcilability. Over the next two days Greco-Turkish divisions over Cyprus were laid bare for all the world to see. The responsibility for this did not lie with the Greek delegation, if only because, closeted with people more powerful than they were, it was in their interest to keep matters as cool and restrained as possible. Stephanoupoulos, Foreign Minister of Greece, therefore spoke with moderation, whilst not giving away any part of his country's position. By contrast, Zorlu proceeded to put the Turkish case in its most extreme form, as he had been encouraged to do. It need have surprised nobody that, rhetorically, he went the whole hog. His argument that any alteration of the status quo in Cyprus would automatically throw into question the legal basis of the settlement arrived at in the Lausanne Treaty of 1923 was grist to this mill. Turning from law to geography, Zorlu pointed out that not only was Cyprus closer to Anatolia than to Greece, it was part of Anatolia, having been linked to it by land within recent geological eras, so that 'when we take into account the state of the population in Cyprus, it is not sufficient to say ... that 100,000 Turks live there. One should rather say that 24,000,000 Turks live there.' Zorlu went on to make the claim that if self-determination were ever to be applied in Cyprus, 'the guiding principle shall not be the consideration of majorities and minorities, but rather the granting of full equality to the two [ethnic] groups'—that is, the wishes of the 18 per cent of the population comprised of Turks was to be put on a par with the 80 per cent comprised of Greeks. To make the point in the most practical way, a group of Turkish-Cypriots turned up at the Colonial Office asking to be directed to sources in London where they could obtain guns.68 A brazen quality was henceforth to attach itself to Turkish dealings over Cyprus; it was their way of doing business. The Turks, Macmillan had assured Eden in advance, would be 'rigid in substance'.69 Zorlu now left no doubt how rigid the substance might be. After these preliminary exchanges, both the Greek and Turkish delegations saw no point in continuing with a conference in which there was clearly no chance of any agreement. For the British Foreign Secretary, however, one of his key objectives— getting a British plan 'on the table', so that it could be claimed afterwards at the United Nations that a new generous 'offer' had been made—had not yet been achieved. It took a good deal of cajoling by Macmillan, and the use of his position as chairman, to keep the conference going by insisting on an adjournment until 6 September. He used the interim to introduce into his private talks with Stephanoupoulos and Zorlu the tridominium proposal which up till this point had been kept under wraps. The Greeks were promised 'a real, genuine advance' in the political life of Cyprus (though one which did not prejudice British control of foreign policy, defence, and internal security). The Turks were offered participation in a 'partnership at the centre' including an advisory role in the administration of Cyprus under continuing British sovereignty. On self-determination itself, Macmillan was careful 68 69

On this visitation see CO926/183. Macmillan to Eden, 31 Aug. 1955^0371/117653^01081/927.

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to emphasize, the interested parties should continue to 'agree to differ'. In that difference lay, according to Macmillan's scenario, the United Kingdom's best guarantee of its continued mastery over the island. That the Greek Government would reject such a 'partnership' as just a way of smothering self-determination was certain. What mattered much more for Macmillan was that it should be accepted by Turkey. Any mention of a 'real, genuine advance' in Cypriot self-government, however, was to Zorlu and his colleagues a danger sign that the British, having marched the Turks up to the top of the Cypriot hill, would send them marching down again if it suited them. They were convinced that any constitution in the island would prove to be a slippery slope to Enosis. Their fear of such an outcome reflected the sense of vulnerability which was the obverse of the public, bullying face which ultimately was to make Zorlu anathema in Whitehall. When the latter saw Macmillan alone on 7 September he told him that the Turkish Cabinet had stayed up all night discussing the new British plan formally unveiled the day before, and that they rejected it categorically.70 The Foreign Secretary pleaded with him about the 'deplorable impression' which would be created if at the end of the conference the Greeks ended up seeming more reasonable than the Turks.71 The price the Turkish minister demanded, and received, for going along with Macmillan's scheme was that at the final plenary session he should be allowed to put carefully framed questions meeting the Turkish desiderata, and that he should receive certain prescribed answers. The conclusion of the 'Tripartite Conference on the Eastern Mediterranean' was therefore just as stage-managed, and perhaps even more phoney, than the beginning. Stephanoupoulos began on Greece's behalf by stating that he would submit Macmillan's ideas to the Cabinet in Athens, but held out little hope of agreement to anything which so blatantly sought to deny self-determination to the Cypriots. Immediately afterwards Zorlu posed his crucial questions.72 The first was: 'Does the British Government intend to maintain in the present and in the future the right of sovereignty on the island of Cyprus, devolved upon Great Britain by the Treaty of Lausanne?' In the course of an intentionally prolix answer, the Foreign Secretary stated, 'I am bound to say that there is no prospect of any change in the foreseeable future.' More definitive still was Zorlu's second question: 'If the British Government is determined to maintain sovereignty on the Island, does it, for the present or the future, accept any principle which might ultimately lead to the independence of the Island or its accession to another country?' To this Macmillan's unequivocal reply was, 'We do not accept the principle of self-determination, as one of universal application. We think that exceptions must be made in view of geographical, traditional, historical, 70 Record of Conversation between the Secretary of State and the Turkish Foreign Minister at Lancaster House, 7 Sept. 1955, FO37I/117656, RG1081/984. 71 Ibid. 72 Verbatim reports of the Tripartite Conference are in 00926/183. For Greek and American reactions to 'the Zorlu questions' see memorandum of conversation, 12 Sept. 1955, Box 3273, RG59, State Department Records, USNA.


75

strategical and other considerations.' This was, in effect, just another, more complicated way of falling back on Hopkinson's 'Never' statement of 28 July 1954. That assertion, nonetheless, had at least been a unilateral British formulation, and as such retractable should Her Majesty's Government's views undergo a transformation. What had now been done was to inaugurate a process of making British policy on Cyprus hostage to Turkish interests, which was quite another matter. Armitage had already warned that the consequence of any repetition of the Hopkinson principle would be further violence in Cyprus. Fresh violence was already under way, though not in the manner, or the place, the Governor had predicted. On the afternoon of 6 September anti-Greek riots erupted in Istanbul and continued for nearly twenty-four hours. News of what happened filtered out only very gradually over the next few days. A full account was subsequently cobbled together by the British Consul-General, Michael Stewart (later Foreign Secretary in a Labour Government).73 The riots had allegedly been sparked by rumours of a bomb planted at Ataturk's birthplace, currently the Turkish Consulate in Salonica. In fact, rumours of an assault on this establishment were a ritualized signal for any Turkish action of an anti-Greek kind, and Stewart's enquiries soon discounted the spontaneity of the demonstrations. Zorlu's uncompromising statements in London had worked on the emotions of the Turkish mob in Istanbul, which proceeded 'to display in a peculiarly brutal and useless way their hatred of the Greeks'. From its original epicentre in Taksim Square, the trouble rippled out during the evening through the old suburb of Pera, the smashing and looting of Greek commercial property being executed, Stewart reported, 'with a method and determination which would have done credit to any thorough-going barbarian'. The Turkish Police were not only largely passive towards this destruction, but discriminated in the protection which they afforded to western embassies. Guards were stationed around some European legations even before the violence got under way. Only a single policeman, however, appeared in front of the British residence, who shortly drifted off. Army troops remained, meanwhile, in the side streets, and when they did enter the main avenues, did nothing to restrain the looters. The brunt of the damage was sustained by Greek business premises and residential areas in old Istanbul, but also extended to Greek centres along the Bosphorus. Greek Churches were especially singled out, the Panayia, one of the oldest Byzantine structures, being gutted.74 At least one Orthodox priest died as his Church was incinerated. There were also, allegedly, a number of rapes of Greek women. Similar, though rather less uncontrolled, disturbances occurred elsewhere in Turkey where there was a Greek presence, especially at Izmir, where the families of Greek officers serving at NATO Regional Headquarters were evacuated. In fact, what was universally recognized to be a highly reprehensible outburst in retrospect constituted something more profound. It marked, 73

Michael Stewart to Macmillan, 22 Sept. 1955, FO37I/117711, RGio344/so. According to an estimate from Lambeth Palace, 72 out of 83 Orthodox churches in the city were damaged. The historic Phaner, however, was closely protected by Turkish troops throughout. 74

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as one historian has noted, 'the beginning of the end of the historic Greek community in Turkey'.75 Who was responsible? The very simultaneity with which the trouble had erupted in various places, both in European and Asiatic Turkey, indicated a degree of planning. The Turkish Government blamed the Communists, though few if any others found this convincing. The 'Cyprus is Turkish Party', led by the fanatical Hikmet Bil, had been a visible presence in the streets, but in Stewart's opinion it was not capable of the 'methodical destruction' involved. He blamed extreme nationalists in league with hooligan elements. As the dust settled, officials in the British Foreign Office entertained no doubt that Menderes and Zorlu 'knew all about the business' from the start, even if the riots had gone beyond what was originally intended.76 Their political purpose was to demonstrate unequivocally the seriousness of the Turkish claims over Cyprus. In this vein the actions were directed principally against Greece, but they were a vivid reminder, as well, to the British (and also to the Americans, presently unpopular in Turkey following a cut in aid payments, whose Embassy was also afforded scant protection). In these ways the riots in Istanbul and Izmir were a necessary coda to the London conference. British responses were mixed from the start. Some in Whitehall shared Stewart's disgust. Others welcomed the fact that the Greeks were being given 'a taste of their o\vn medicine'—the phrase was in vogue—whilst one even greeted the burning down of the ancient Panayia as the welcome liquidation of a 'major eyesore'.77 The most telling reaction was that of Macmillan himself, who, when advised by his own officials, as well as Ambassador Bowker in Ankara, that the United Kingdom should 'court a sharp rebuff by admonishing Turkey, omitted to do so.78 Instead, a note of distinctly mild disapproval was dispatched to Menderes. There was no doubt that the Turkish outburst had been an embarrassment, not least with the United Nations in view; but it had its uses, as Macmillan was not too fastidious to grasp. In this connection, note must also be taken, however, of the allegation made in Greek quarters that the British were directly compromised in these events. There are at least a few wisps of evidence which might lead to this apparently wild charge not being rejected totally out of hand. When Zorlu was on trial for his life in Turkey after the 1960 revolution in that country, some of the charges related to the disturbances of September 1955, and it emerged from state records that the Foreign Minister had telephoned Istanbul from London to say that 'a little activity will be useful';79 the similarity to language being used in the British Foreign Office ('a few riots... will do us nicely') is transparent. One imponderable here is the growing involvement in Cyprus matters of Ml5, who, it appears from the memoirs of one agent, were 75

Alexis Alexandris, The Greek Minority of Istanbul and Greek-Turkish Relations, 1918-74 (Athens, 1983), p. 270. '"' Ward,minute,8Oct. i9SS,FO37i/ii7iii/5o. 77 J. Grant, minute, 17 Oct. 1955, FO37i/ii7ii4, RGio344/43. 78 Selby, minute, 13 Sept. 1955, FOi 17657, RGioSi/ioig. 79 Stephen Xydis, Cyprus, Conflict and Conciliation, 1950-54 (Columbus, Ohio, 1967), p. 51.


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presently bugging the Greek Embassy in London.80 The Americans did not feel able to reject outrightly Greek allegations of British complicity; he 'could not read the British mind' was all a senior State Department official felt able to say privately on the matter.81 A balanced judgement is that whilst there was no direct complicity of the sort alleged, it is not beyond the bounds of possibility that someone, somewhere on the British side exhibited a calculated complaisance when 'a little activity' was broached by the Turks (with whom extensive talks were going on outside the conference throughout). Whatever the truth may have been, the effect in Athens could only be very damaging. 'I think that for the first time I have been here', one of Ambassador Peake's staff summed it up grimly, 'we face the prospect of having the whole country against us.'82 What was more important than the largely lost cause of Anglo-Greek relations were the repercussions for the integrity of NATO. In Washington it was admitted that, given the provocation offered, the Greek Government acted throughout the crisis with 'exemplary coolness'.83 The withdrawal of the Greek contingent from NATO Regional Headquarters in this light was an understandable sop thrown by the Athenian authorities to their own public opinion. One American action at this time, nevertheless, grated badly in Greece, and began a slow but inexorable slide not only in Greek-American relations, but in Greece's relations with the Western Alliance as a whole.84 In the wake of the disturbances, President Eisenhower sent identical notes to Prime Ministers Menderes and Constantine Karamanlis (the latter a relatively young politician who, with the backing of the Americans and King Paul, had succeeded to the Greek premiership on Papagos' death85) deploring antagonism between the two nations and calling for calm. This failure to make any distinction between perpetrator and victim sent a shock-wave through highly-strung Greek feelings. Over the following weeks American diplomacy played the leading role in trying to limit the damage to NATO and to coax the Greek contingent back to Regional Headquarters, so plugging a hole on the south-eastern flank of the alliance. The United States succeeded when at the end of October, in a piquant ceremony, the Greek flag was raised again in Izmir in the presence of Greek and Turkish troops, as well as a minister from Ankara. Despite this, for the first time since the civil war neutralist forces received a boost in Greek politics, with long-term effects not only for Cyprus, but for the future of Greek democracy. It was the riots in Istanbul and their aftermath, flowing in no small part from the conference in London, which 80

Peter Wright, Spycatcher: The Candid Autobiography of a Secret Agent (New York, 1987), p. 113. Memorandum of conversation, 13 Sept., Box 3273, RGsg, State Department Records, USNA. Lambert to Ward, 15 Sept. 1955, FO37I/117659. 81 UK Delegation (New York) to Foreign Office, i3Sept. 1955,00926/181. 84 For a broad survey of Greek-American relations covering Cyprus see Theodore A. Couloumbis, Greek Political Reaction to American and NATO Influences (New Haven, Conn., 1966). 85 Because Papagos had not been seen for some time in public, and, unusually in the Orthodox rite, the lid of his coffin was not lifted during his funeral, the rumour circulated in Athens that the Field-Marshal had, in fact, been deadfor some time, and the announcement delayed to allow the Palace and its American backers to fix the succession of their protege. That Karamanlis' leadership began under this cloud of suspicion had some significance for his delicate position over the Cyprus issue thereafter. 81 82

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first made plain what in Washington was described as 'the most dangerous smell' of the Cyprus quarrel.86 Nowhere, of course, \vas this ugly smell more pungent than in Cyprus, where the local administration had to do what it could to keep the situation from disintegrating. It was in the wake of the Istanbul disturbances, Lawrence Durrell related in his memoir, Bitter Lemons, that there was a sharp change of atmosphere in his village of Bellapaix, and that the local mtikhtar advised him to leave (what was known as the old 'Kyrenia colony', ever-popular with expatriate painters and writers, soon became depleted).87 For the administration, the presence of the Archbishop was always the eye of the storm. This was illustrated when it fell to be considered what would happen if the Archbishop got stopped at a road block. Armitage's conclusion was that whilst Makarios should not himself be subjected to a search—he would, the Governor remarked, hardly be hiding a machine gun under his cassock—those travelling with him should be.88 Any such searches had, it was felt, to be carried out speedily, to forestall the possibility of a crowd gathering, leading to a disturbance which might quickly get beyond the control of the Police. On 8 September Makarios' car was stopped at a check in Famagusta. As luck would have it, the British soldiers concerned did not recognize the Archbishop, or the golden rod by his side. There was a commotion until a Greek Police Sergeant came along and identified the Primate. By then there was a crowd of over 2,000 people milling angrily about. After hurried requests for instructions to Police Headquarters, Makarios was allowed to proceed (though his companions were frisked). This incident was reported on the BBC lunchtime news in Britain, and Lennox-Boyd found himself lobbied by some Conservative MPs as to why the Archbishop had been left alone. The minister promptly complained to Armitage that Makarios should either have not been stopped at all, or, if he were stopped, the search operation should have been 'rigorously carried through', including the person of His Beatitude.89 The episode was relatively petty, but it showed not only the practical difficulties of keeping order in Nicosia, but also how the 'realities'—and the logic arising from those realities—facing the British and Cyprus Governments were by no means always the same. The Cyprus authorities, in fact, had decided that it could not make further progress in stemming disorder unless it took decisive action to restore its battered prestige. An address by the Archbishop at Kykko monastery on 10 September in which he declared that he 'would fight to the end for self-determination', and EOKA pamphlets circulating on the same occasion affirming that after recent events 'the real conflict will now begin',90 gave Armitage the excuse he needed, and he promptly 8(1

Selwyn Lloyd to Foreign Office, 15 Sept. 1955, 00926/181. See chapter entitled 'The Feast of Unreason' in Lawrence Durrell, Bitter Lemons of Cyprus (London, 1957) which captures the change of mood at this time. 88 Armitage to Lennox-Boyd, 20 Sept. 1955, PREMi 1/1248. 8371/23871. 1)4 Harding to Lennox-Boyd, 24 Feb. 11)56, F()371/123871, RG1081 ^383. 1)5 Lennox-Boyd to Eden, 24 Feb. 1956, FO37I/123872, RGP'io8i/347. '"' Eden to Lennox-Boyd, 25 Feb. 1956, F()37i/i2387i, RGio8i/323.

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coating' might be required to pull Makarios round. Both Noel-Baker and Consul Courtney, who were continuing their separate good offices, told Government House that the necessary 'sugar coating' was a clear recognition of a Greek-elected majority. On the evening of 28 February Lennox-Boyd telegraphed Eden that he and the Governor intended to see Makarios the next day and tell him once and for all 'exactly where we stand'; but in doing so they sought permission to tell the Archbishop that one further 'elucidation' would shortly be made in Parliament incorporating an assurance that the majority in the Legislative Assembly would reflect the ethnic balance of the population. 'In the event of a breakdown', Lennox-Boyd sought to convince the Prime Minister of the wisdom of this point, 'I would much rather be able to point later to the amnesty and public security [than to the legislature] as the real cause.'98 Since the cause of the final breakdown of the Harding-Makarios negotiations was inevitably to be a matter of dispute, in which each side tried to gain the propaganda advantage, this was a revealing statement. Of course, if a settlement foundered on what, in other colonies, would have been considered a most straightforward point of constitutional development, British policy would necessarily appear in a critical light. Conversely, if the breakdown occurred, or seemed to occur, over anything to do with violence, then the assumed culpability shifted by osmosis from the British to Makarios. Eden refused, nevertheless, to grant Lennox-Boyd's request. The reasons for his refusal, he stated frankly, were 'by no means wholly based on the Turkish reaction'.99 This was despite some feeling amongst official advisers that LennoxBoyd's, and Harding's, need for a 'sweetener' should be met on the straightforward grounds that 'at some stage we must tell the Turks that 18 per cent of the [Cypriot] population cannot have an unqualified veto on the remaining 82 per cent'.100 That the reaction Eden feared was principally, though not exclusively, among circles within his own party at home, then, rather than the Turks, is fairly transparent. To this extent the allegations afterwards made in Opposition circles that the British Government let the chance of a settlement slip away for domestic political reasons has some foundation—though how long such a settlement might itself have lasted is another matter. The gloom which surrounded the meeting of Sir John Harding, Lennox-Boyd, and Archbishop Makarios on the evening of 29 February was accentuated by the sentences of death just confirmed on two men, Andreas Zakos and Charilaos Michael, for EOKA-related crimes. During the preceding hours several bombs had gone off in Nicosia—a number of detonations were actually heard by the Governor and Colonial Secretary on their way to the meeting-place. As on previous occasions, this was something for which Harding held the Archbishop personally responsible—though in truth Grivas intended such explosions to serve as a 'reminder' to Makarios as much as a means of intimidating Harding. The meeting between the principals on 97 98 99 100

Lennox-Boyd, telegram to Eden, 27 Feb. 1956^0371/123871, RGio8i/323Lennox-Boyd, telegram to Eden, 28 Feb. 1956, FO37I /123871, RGioSi7327. Eden to Lennox-Boyd, 29 Feb. 1956^0371/123873^01081/378. Ward, minute, 28 Feb. 1956^0371/123871^01081/327.

H4

4 October 1955-9 March 1956

29 February ran what was probably an inevitable course. Lennox-Boyd asked the Archbishop if he had any response to the documents setting out the final British position which had been forwarded to Makarios' Palace a few hours before.101 The Archbishop began by paying tribute to the Governor's perseverance over the five months of their talks, and remarked that with goodwill some of the remaining problems could be surmounted, but that 'others were matters of fact and not of confidence'. In this regard he specified the amnesty, control over public security, and recognition of a Greek-elected majority. On the amnesty, whilst Makarios recognized that violence against the person could not be included, he could not agree to the implementation of capital punishments for those found to be carrying explosive substances, which he said 'raised questions of considerable juridical and forensic complexity'. Since several such cases were in process, the matter was not academic. Lennox-Boyd stated in reply that the British Government could not 'draw a distinction between violence which succeeded in its purposes and those [sic] which did not'. The climax of the exchanges came over the matter of the interim constitution. After the Colonial Secretary had repeated his assurance of 'normal, liberal constitutional doctrine', but could not go further, Makarios retorted that this 'did not really meet the point'. 'It was clear', Lennox-Boyd quickly intervened, 'that we had disagreed not over any one point but over a number of important questions... I feared that in a few months' time his [Makarios'] fellow-countrymen would be asking why he had not accepted the Lennox-Boyd proposals which had been put to him tonight.'1'12 According to a Greek account, the minister's departing words to the Archbishop—'God save your people'—were still more stark.m Makarios, as was his wont, retreated into enigmatic politeness. Their parting had a grim, if somewhat staged, solemnity about it. Although the lives of Harding and Makarios were to remain intertwined for some time, they were, in fact, never to meet each other again. Over the years, if not months, some of Makarios' compatriots did, as LennoxBoyd had prophesied, come to regret this division of the ways. But, like most human emotions, regret is a two-edged sword. When Noel-Baker, staying briefly in Athens on his way home, told Ambassador Peake that Her Majesty's Government would shortly come to wish that they had gone the little bit further required to get an agreement, Peake had 'ruefully agreed'."14 In doing so Sir Charles was probably prompted by an intuition of the high personal cost that would now be incurred in running his own Embassy. Any such symmetry between the regretfulness of the British and the Greek-Cypriots, however, may also be seen in retrospect as entirely appropriate, since whoever was eventually to win the struggle about to enter a more intensive phase, it was not to be either of the original contestants. They were to succeed only in inflicting mutual hurt on themselves. 101

t(]2 Harding to Lennox-Boyd, i Mar. 1956, €0926/426. Ibid. Quoted in Diana Markidcs, 'Britain's "New Look" Policy for Cyprus and the Harding-Makarios Talks, Jan. 1955-Mar. u)$&, Journal oflmperial and Commonwealth History, 23/3 (Sept. 1995), 497. 1114 Cannon (Athens) to State Department, 3 Mar. 1956, Box 3275, RGs9, State Department Records, USNA. 1111

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115

Such observations apart, why had the fateful break occurred? In a wide-ranging analysis, Consul Courtney gave it as his belief that it was the matter of the legislature which had been the chief stumbling-block.105 This was confirmed by the admission of the Colonial Office shortly afterwards that with the aid of a Greek-elected majority an agreement with Makarios could have been secured.106 An extra twist is given by the fact recorded on the British side that during the negotiations Makarios had showed himself just as keen as the British to get 'the visitors from overseas in the hills' (that is, Grivas) out of Cyprus as soon as possible.107 Courtney, in his report to Washington on the eventual outcome, expressed puzzlement as to why, having come such a long way over self-determination since the infamous 'Never' of July 1954, the British had jibbed at a crucial moment over what seemed to him the lesser matter. He detected, he said, 'a lack of logic or conviction' in the British contention that they could not swallow the Greek-elected majority, when they had swallowed so much else. Makarios did not escape Courtney's criticism for not having shown greater foresight and courage in building up a moderate party pledged to peaceful cooperation, but he regretted even more the painfully slow evolutions of the British formula which as every day had passed allowed the atmosphere to blacken and disorder to spread. 'However that may be,' Courtney summed up matters from the American Consulate, 'the mutual mistrust which hampered the negotiations throughout (and despite our own best efforts) certainly did not abate in the later stages, rather, if anything, it became harder and sharper."08 In this assessment the Consul perhaps failed to grasp why—in the modalities of British decolonization—control over the transition to self-rule was so vital, whilst preserving the dignity of the outgoing power; under Cypriot conditions, a Greek-elected majority would indeed have made this virtually impossible. But whatever the immediate causes of the breakdown may have been, Fransois Crouzet is surely right that the individual points of contention always paled besides more enduring polarities,109 or what Harding himself called 'the struggle for mastery over the destiny of Cyprus'.110 The immediate consequences of the ending of negotiation will not detain us very long. Harding had to wait a couple of days to allow Lennox-Boyd to get home before telegraphing his recommendations. Amidst this hiatus, however, on i March Britain's position in the Middle East suffered a major blow when King Hussein of Jordan dismissed General Glubb from his post at the head of the Arab Legion (Glubb went first to Cyprus for several days, before returning to the United Kingdom). 'Chaos in the Foreign Office', a senior official wrote in his diary as the news of Glubb's eviction sank in, with Eden ringing up every five minutes for news.111 1(15

Courtney Dispatch, 'Breakdown of Negotiations on Cyprus Issue', 14 Mar. 1956, Box 3275, RG59, State Department Records, USNA. 106 Seep. 126. 107 U)8 Courtney Dispatch, 'Breakdown of Negotiations on Cyprus Issue'. Ibid. m Fran9ois Crouzet, Le Conflit de Chypre, 7946-7959,2 vols. (Brussels, 1973), ii. 777-8. 110 Harding to Lennox-Boyd, 31 Jan. 1956^0371/123867^61081/156. 1 '' Shuckburgh, Descent to Suez, 340-1.

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4 October 1955-9 March 1956

Meanwhile, on 3 March, Harding's request for the immediate deportation of Archbishop Makarios was received in the Colonial Office. The manner in which this demand was couched was striking. He warned the Colonial Secretary that the effects of the deportation would include 'immediate and violent reactions' amounting to a general insurrection. After a phase of containment on the part of the Police and Army, this unrest would subside, he predicted, into continuing demonstrations and arson, growing hostility to all British personnel, 'mobs of villagers' making trouble wherever they could, and widespread non-cooperation with the aim of a 'breakdown of the administration and essential services'. 'Against this background', Harding instructed the Minister with an undertow of sarcasm, 'I would be grateful if you could arrange for the Hastings [aircraft] to be here by next Tuesday."u Harding's portrayal did nothing to soothe nerves in Whitehall about deporting a Christian leader in what one commentator in the Colonial Office referred to scathingly as 'a manner reminiscent of Henry VIII'.'" The legal position, for one thing, was by no means watertight, so that special legislation had to be passed in Cyprus, in Aden (where Makarios' aeroplane was to be refuelled), in Kenya (where he was to be entrusted to the charge of the Royal Navy for onward conveyance), and in the Seychelles as his final destination. There were worrying logistical niggles. How, for example, was the Archbishop to be got from his Palace and on to an aeroplane without undue and potentially embarrassing force? But the biggest problem arose from the fact that, after arrival in the Seychelles, he was, at Harding's insistence, not to be set free— as the Cypriot exiles of 1931 had been left to roam at will—but kept under lock and key without benefit of trial. There was in all this a certain impression of underhandedness, even duplicity, which was the cause of anxiety for both ministers and officials in London, and was always to be the Achilles' heel of the action against Makarios. When the Cabinet, still distracted by the crisis in Jordan, met on the morning of 6 March, therefore, it is not surprising that second thoughts quickly rose to the surface. After some heart-searching, Lennox-Boyd was deputed to go away and make one last attempt to get the Field-Marshal to change his mind. 'Please don't think this is going to be an order, counter-order, disorder telegram,' the Colonial Secretary began by trying to disarm Harding. 'There is no question of withdrawing full authority to remove the prelate as soon as you wish." 14 Nonetheless, Lennox-Boyd went on to ask whether it would not be more advisable just to deport Makarios, and let him go freely to Athens, or anywhere else, but not imprison him. This was the sort of shillyshallying which Harding despised. He told Lennox-Boyd bluntly that if he was to 'neutralize' Makarios, it was absolutely essential that he be held 'incommunicado' until such time as Cyprus was pacified (the stress on 'incommunicado' explains why later no communications—not even Christmas greetings—were allo\ved to reach the Archbishop from correspondents at home). To help allay the doubts of British ministers, the Governor assured Lennox-Boyd that the Cyprus Government had 112 111 114

Harding, telegram to Lennox-Boyd, 3 Mar. 1956, PREMn/f248. D. Smith, minute, 15 Mar. 1956, COioj5/6. T,cnno\-Boyd, telegram to Harding, 6 Mar. 1956, PREMi 1/48.

PLATE 1. Sir John Harding meets Archbishop Makarios in secret, November 1955 (John Reddaway, with moustache, in background)

PLATE 2. A British soldier stands guard as Turkish-Cypriot policemen search a house in Nicosia following the murder of two members of the Security Forces, February 1956

PLATE 3. A priest being frisked in the village of Lefkonicos as Security Forces move in following a terrorist incident, December 1955

PLATE 4. Cypriots being taken away by truck for interrogation in Nicosia following the shooting of two people in the vicinity, August 1956

Archbishop Makarios arrives in Athens on 17 April 1957 after his release from the Seychelles

PLATES. The Archbishop addresses a huge crowd from a balcony of the Hotel Grande Bretagne in Constitution Square

^f r Hi" re/Um!,ng CXileS 3re driven int° the centre of *e ci But perhaps the main criticism put forward was that 'we should . . . find it difficult not to be drawn into a negotiation' once such a concession was made.47 In the wake of the breakdown with Archbishop Makarios, Her Majesty's Government could not afford to be seen entering into new talks, least of all talks in which self-determination was part of the agenda. The domestic weakness of Eden's ministry-—currently suffering a run of by-election reverses—underpinned this necessity. On 17 April the Prime Minister announced in the House of Commons that there could be no possibility of talks on Cyprus' future until after violence ceased.48 The Colonial Secretary repeated this assurance two days later; and although on the latter occasion it was also announced that Lord Radcliffe, the distinguished jurist, had accepted a commission to draft a constitution for Cyprus, just what his terms of reference were, and what the timing of his commission might be, remained undefined. Although Harding had intended to travel to London to press the argument for 'placation', the negative response to his memorandum in early April led him to cancel the visit. But on a number of fronts the need for some appeasement of Greek feelings became more pronounced in the following weeks. The grim progress of the Karaolis and Demetriou cases had a lot to do with this, but their effect was reinforced in other ways. In the wake of the escalation in security measures, there had emerged a series of allegations concerning brutality by a small number of members of the Security Forces in the course of their duties. In early April these gained some credence when two British officers, Captain O'Driscoll of the Intelligence Corps and Lieutenant Linzee of the Gordon Highlanders, were court-martialled and convicted for causing bodily harm during an interrogation. Senior officers spoke on their behalf. What could not be said in court was that the two men had, in fact, succeeded in eliciting the most significant information yet obtained on EOKA's organization— indicating the moral tightrope on which the security campaign, at least in its intelligence dimension, was coming to be placed. O'Driscoll and Linzee were dismissed the service, though for reduced terms. During the immediate run-up to the executions on 10 May, Greek-Cypriot claims of ill-treatment hung fire. Afterwards a fresh 4S 4fl 47 4)1

Kirkpatrick, minute, 31 May 1856, FO37I/I23894, RGio8i/iio. Galsworthy, minute, 4 May 1956, FO371 /123838/918. 'The Governor's Proposals on the Future of Cyprus', to Apr. 1956, FC^yi/123894, RGio8i/i to. Parliamentary Dehates (Commons), igss 6, vol. 551, 17 Apr. 1956, cols. 846-7.


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wave of allegations followed, and the Greek Government announced that they were taking the issue to the European Court of Human Justice. That Court duly set up an investigating sub-committee, though its remit was restricted to the administrative practices of the Emergency in Cyprus, not alleged derelictions by individuals. This was the beginning of a saga which was to constitute a vital sub-plot in the Emergency drama, and to cause acute heartache to Harding, who despised nothing more than what he regarded as gross smears of British officers doing their patriotic duty under provocative conditions. In the late spring of 1956, nevertheless, the more toxic element in Anglo-Greek relations within Cyprus associated with the allegations we have referred to accentuated still further the Governor's belief that British policy could not for much longer stay fixed in a state of political immobility. Another aspect of the deteriorating conditions within Cyprus was heightened inter-communal tension. We have stressed that hitherto such friction had been almost an incidental by-product of the Emergency. The manner in which Makarios' deportation brought life in the Greek community to a shuddering and dejected halt, whilst reassuring and even enthusing Turks, provides an example of the process. Thereafter, however, confrontation became more direct, in which the 'defeat' of one community—such as the executions of 10 May—were transfigured into the 'victory' of the other. The killing of a Turkish constable on 23 May in Nicosia led to serious rioting and damage to Greek property in several towns, whilst clashes at Aphania, near the capital, four days later led to a number of fatalities. Foley in the Times of Cyprus wrote that ethnic violence had emerged 'as a real rather than possible factor in the Cyprus political tangle'.49 There was no more sombre indication of this than the inauguration by the Security Forces of the 'Green Line' between the Greek and Turkish quarters. At first this was just a mesh of barbed wire rolled up to allow ingress and egress, ready to be closed at any sign of trouble; over time it was to become a more formidable obstacle. As with all such demarcations, however, it had a dual function both as a physical reassurance to ordinary and sometimes frightened citizens, and as a psychological, if at first mostly unintended, invitation to retreat into ethnic compartments and rival identities. This ambiguous but potentially deadly combination was almost invisibly coming together. The other, and always crucial, factor shaping Harding's assessments was the progress of the security campaign. Here the record of success was mixed. In this connection one of the most picturesque episodes in the Emergency cannot be omitted. At the beginning of April a Greek employee on the staff of Government House planted a bomb on the underside of the Governor's bed, and duly fled. Harding slept blissfully unaware of his danger that night, and in the morning—when the disappearance of a member of staff was noted—the bomb was discovered (it had not gone off, apparently, because the room temperature had failed to fall to the level set for the device).50 All Greek-Cypriot employees in the residence—some of them 40 50

Times of Cyprus (2$ May 1956). Harding to Colonial Office, 21 Mar. i9s6,FO37i/i23879,RGio8i/6o4.

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long-serving—were sacked. These dismissals did not make good publicity. They carried further a process in which Greeks were to be ejected from all positions, however menial, which had a bearing on security. Most symbolically, however, the curious episode captured very pictorially the distrust which extended through every nook and cranny in the colony. Meanwhile, the wider campaign against EOKA was hard pounding. In mid-April Colonial Office sources informed the United States Embassy in London that the Security Forces 'have not met with appreciable success' despite the recent build-up, and although the same officials anticipated that a breakthrough would soon be made, it seemed to their American confidantes that they were speaking 'more out of a sense of duty than personal conviction'.51 Above all, the campaign of pacification had run up against one crucial constraint: a deficiency of reliable intelligence. '[V]ery little information is coming from outside,' one insider summed up the situation. 'Almost everything is dependent on interrogation.'" Such a dependence on interrogation constituted a danger in both moral and security terms. During May the lives of five more British soldiers were claimed by EOKA, with several more injured. There were, nevertheless, good reasons why both in London and Nicosia British officials thought that the tide might be about to be turned against EOKA. The Army garrison was now over 20,000 troops. EOKA's active cadre at any one time never rose above 200. An important turning-point came in mid-May when the Police, recently stiffened by new recruits from the United Kingdom, at last resumed their normal responsibilities for law and order, allowing the Army to concentrate on carrying the fight to the enemy. Two squadrons of reconnaissance helicopters, which Harding had long demanded, finally arrived 'on station' and—less mechanical, but possibly as useful—a pack of tracker-dogs, trained at sniffing-out terrorists from their hiding places, came from Kenya. Although intelligence about the whereabouts of leading terrorists was hard to come by, at least the British had come to possess a much better idea how the organization worked, including an appreciation of its cellular structure—something which made guessing, of which the Security Forces had to do a great deal, rather easier. In short, considerably later than he had initially anticipated, Harding was ready at last to launch an offensive. During the third week of May 'Operation Pepperpot' homed-in on the Kyrenia mountains in the north of the island, and some important captures were made. But this was only the first prong of a larger plan, the main fork of which was 'Operation Lucky Alphonse', designed to corner in the Troodos massif EOKA groups on the rebound from elsewhere. 'Lucky Alphonse' involved the concentration in a relatively small area of over 5,000 troops spearheaded by two parachute battalions, as well as the 40th and 45th Royal Marine Commandos, and was due to be unleashed on 7 June. By then, however, Governor 51 Ruttcr, memorandum, 'Security Situation in Cyprus', 12 Apr. 1956, Box 3275, RGgQ, State Department Records, USNA. 52 Shattock to Ward, 15 June 1956, FO37I /12380.4^61081/109. 'Outside'in this connection meant information volunteered, or—much more likely—bought. £5,000 was the going rate for intelligence leading to a 'kill'.


13 5

Harding was not in Cyprus. Instead, having cancelled his earlier trip in April, he had finally departed for London determined to press on the British Cabinet the need for a political initiative alongside the impending, and hopefully decisive, military push, since to Harding the two offensives ran naturally alongside each other. We come here to matters of vital significance in assessing Harding's controversial governorship. The chief criticism of the Field-Marshal as Governor was that he lacked political imagination in a situation requiring considerable resources of sympathetic insight. Harding's own public persona, calculated to exude toughness and a 'will to win', played into this one-dimensional image. He even relished doing so. In many ways he relished it too much for the good of his own reputation, but the habit was not as gratuitous as it seemed—rather, there was reflected in the habit the fact that the Cyprus struggle was essentially a contest of psychology, not one measured in crude casualty statistics. But Harding was also acutely aware that it was no good winning the fight against the terrorists only to lose the battle for the 'hearts and minds' of the great majority of Cypriots. 'I feel strongly', he telegraphed LennoxBoyd on 27 May, a few days before leaving for London, 'that we cannot hope to hold our present position much longer without making some positive move towards reconciliation.'53 A new flurry of rumours began that there was a serious difference between Harding and the British Government. A glimmer of what this difference was emerged when the Governor, interviewed by the Economist in Nicosia, said off the record that 'he was in complete agreement with the [British] Government, but that he continued to look for a way out of the impasse'.54 He was franker about his dissatisfaction with the lack of movement in talking to Consul Courtney. The result was that when the Governor finally left for London on i June, Washington was fully informed that he carried with him ideas to 'sell to the [British] Cabinet'.55 These ideas hinged on the guarantee of self-determination after a set interval. On this basis the Governor felt that the Labour and Liberal Parties in Britain might be got 'on board', destroying any expectation amongst supporters of Enosis that they merely had to hang on for a change of government in London to get what they wanted. The eventual exercise of self-determination was to be subject to NATO supervision. In forewarning Lennox-Boyd of his views, the Governor was also careful to underline that it would be essential with regard to Turkey to 'exercise . . . such pressure as it is considered judicious to exert', though the very delicacy of the phraseology indicated Harding's awareness that he was cutting very close to the ministerial bone. Unfortunately, the timing of Harding's decision to seek to prise open the log-jam over Cyprus clashed with the state of British Conservative politics. On 13 June the last British troops were due to leave the Suez base. In the weeks prior to this a spasm of ultra sentiment passed through a wide section of Conservative parliamentarians and activists. An influential segment of the latter began to take an even keener 51

Harding, telegram to Lennox-Boyd, 27 May 1956, FO37i/i238g2, RGio8i/io4i. Rutter (London Embassy) to State Department, 4 June 1956, Box 3276, RG59, State Department Records, USNA. 55 C. Elbrick to Rountree, 28 May 1956, ibid. 54

1 36

10 March -26 July rg$6

interest in Cyprus as the place where the spreading defeatism of national policy, as they saw it, had to be kept at bay. It was no accident that on i June— the day of Harding's arrival — the Prime Minister gave a speech in Norwich in the course of which the British case over Cyprus was stated in its crudest form: that if the island was lost, the Middle East was lost, and that if the Middle East and its oil was lost, the British people would surely starve. Only the most credulous could believe this —oil, after all, was traded on world markets for money, not prestige, even supposing that Cyprus, which had no oil of its own, had any bearing on the commodity at all —but the sweeping assertion was, in truth, simply meant as a signal of Eden's determination not to give way. In the diplomatic realm, the same unyielding message was sent out when the United States Ambassador called at the Foreign Office with a message from Dulles urging that the United Kingdom do something shortly to alleviate the Cyprus danger. His host, Kirkpatrick, let fly emotionally that 'the Americans seemed to think it right that the Greek Government should murder any Cypriot \vho had the moral courage' to stand up to EOKA. 5fl Ambassador Aldrych was left to retreat through the door saying half-apologetically that he had 'only come to give [the] message' from Washington. When Eden —who at this point was receiving extra police protection following rumours that an EOKA squad was operating in London — spoke to a Conservative audience at the Albert Hall on 12 June, the loudest cheer he received was when he announced the immediate deportation from Britain of Father Macheriotis, a Greek priest active in Orthodox charities, who had been accused in the press of diverting money to the Enosis movement.17 In this fevered atmosphere calls for 'placation' were not popular. What made political pressures at home concerning Cyprus all the more formidable was the way that they overlapped with increasingly blunt threats from the Turkish Government. When Bow ker heard of the Harding plan, he warned that any fixing of a date for Cypriot self-determination would lead to 'a serious deterioration in Anglo-Turkish relations', adding that the Turks might start by trying to 'take it out on the Greeks of Istanbul'." Much more worrying was that, in taking it out on Greeks, Turkey might also start taking it on the British. Fearing that the latter were about to shift their position, Menderes and Zorlu now resorted to plain blackmail in the form of a threat to invade Cyprus if an attempt was made to transfer sovereignty to Greece. This was the first intimation of Turkish military intervention. Since the wrenching away of a British colony by some foreign power was the worst of all decolonization scenarios,59 assessments of this threat were very important. After collating various sources, the Foreign Office conclusion was that the Turkish Army was 3fl

Kirkpatrick, minute, 7 June 1956, FCî/u.-jSgs, RGio8i/i 128. Aldrich, telegram to State Department, 14 June 1956, Box 3276, RGsg, State Department Records, USNA. 5(1 Bovvkcr to Selwyn Lloyd, 2 June 1956, F"()37i 7123843, RGio8i/io66. 59 The scenario referred to here is underplayed in most accounts of the British 'end of Empire', but in certain contexts was a matter of considerable anxiety. In this period the claim of Francoist Spain to Gibraltar, for example, caused much concern. Years later the Argentinian invasion of the Falklands and the reactions to it illustrated how explosively the scenario might work out in practice. 57


137

unlikely to descend on Cyprus, even if some form ofEnosis was being implemented, so long as British troops remained on the island;60 and that meanwhile it was much more likely that Turkey would seek to frighten Greece by 'rattling her sabre' on the Thracian border or in the Aegean. This judgement needs to be carefully noted, since it rebuts the blanket assertion which came to be built into British diplomatic rationales over Cyprus: that whatever the merits ofEnosis as a solution for the island's future, it could never be implemented since Turkey would intervene automatically. Nevertheless, the spectre of Turkish military action could not be taken lightly from the summer of 1956 onwards, and one effect was to rivet into place the 'Turkishpolitical factor' which, rather than any material need for a strategic base, came to dominate British calculations.61 Against this concern, however, had to be set Harding's forceful arguments in the Cabinet talks that it was not possible simply to do nothing in Cyprus, whilst things went from bad to worse. Nor, despite Kirkpatrick's antics in the Foreign Office, was the Prime Minister insensitive to the danger that if the British continued to stonewall over Cyprus, the Americans would start to intervene, using NATO as a cover. Eden naturally wanted an end to violence in Cyprus if only it could be secured without costs in other directions. Hemmed in from a bewildering variety of directions, the temptation was to give with one hand, and to take away with the other. The agreed plan which emerged from intensive Cabinet talks, therefore, did not guarantee Cypriot self-determination, but stated that it would come 'under consideration' by NATO after ten years.62 This would be subject, however, to full safeguards for minorities, and to a defence treaty in which both the United Kingdom and Turkey would be full partners alongside Greece. Lord Radcliffe, as Constitutional Commissioner, would go immediately to the island to begin a process of consultation with all parties concerning an interim self-governing constitution—though, as the Foreign Office privately observed, this 'did not prejudge the question of the Greek elected majority'.63 As a last minute 'tweak' by ministers, the Turkish Government was given a secret promise that in the event of self-determination the United Kingdom would retain permanent and sovereign enclaves, within which Turkey would be allowed to station troops of her own—so hinting for the first time at the concession to Turkey of a physical stake in the island which she had effectively lost in 1878.64 This plan, Selwyn Lloyd told Dulles on 19 June when conveying its broad outline but by no means all its details, 'represents the absolute limit to which we are prepared to go', but one which might just be made acceptable to both Greece and Turkey 'if we are given enough support by our friends'.65 That the Eisenhower Administration so frequently called on Britain to be 60 61 62 H 64 65

'Turkish Military Action in Connection with the Cyprus Question', 26 June 1956, FC>37i /123906. Shattock to Ward, 5 May 1956, FC>37i/i23882/724. For the record of Cabinet discussions at this time see CABi30/io9. Galsworthy,minute, 11 June 1956,FO37I/I23898,RGio8i//i24i. Foreign Office to Ankara Embassy, 19 June 1956, FO37I/I23899/I242. Foreign Office to British Embassy, Washington, igjune 1956, ^0371/123899^01081/1239.

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conciliatory in negotiation on issues which mattered a great deal to her, but at all the crucial moments drew back from doing what she could to assist the United Kingdom gain her basic desiderata, was the nub of the resentment felt in London with regard to Middle Eastern matters during the period, including Egypt. This was what was meant by recurring references to Dulles' alleged 'dishonesty'. The American response to such a critique was that they could not share in being responsible for schemes which had not been put to them whilst they were being hammered out in London. But the British knew that when it came to shared policy-making, the Americans would always preponderate; and for this essentially psychological reason they often fell back on the temptation of presenting Washington with/a/ft accompli in the expectation that the Americans would comply, even whilst holding their highly moral noses. The 'June Plan' for Cyprus got caught up in this Anglo-American dialectic. Chance events also played a part in undercutting the sort of help Selwyn Lloyd hoped for. Two days before his discussion with Dulles, the United States Vice-Consul in Nicosia, William Boteler, had been killed when a bomb was thrown into a Nicosia restaurant, 'Little Soho1, where he was dining. Courtney's assessment was that this probably did not presage an EOKA murder campaign against American personnel in the colony.6" There were, however, rumours in the press that the Eisenhower Administration was considering a complaint to the British Government concerning the provision of security for its nationals.67 Although no complaint was made, the Boteler assassination reinforced Dulles' prejudice against jeopardizing American goodwill in the region on behalf of a plan which, in his opinion and that of his advisers, had no chance of satisfying anybody. When Roger Makins, the British Ambassador, pressed its merits on the State Department, he was told that it was 'tantamount to giving Turkey a built-in veto... for all time', and that the Greeks would see it as 'just another manoeuvre to perpetuate British sovereignty over Cyprus'/'8 The following day Dulles told Makins in person that the effect would be 'to create an insoluble problem in the future', adding in the sort of aside which grated on British nerves, 'Was that the intention?'6'' Although the letters exchanged between Eden and Eisenhower had no such brittle undertones,70 it was clear that as things stood Her Majesty's Government could not count on much help from its 'friend', the United States. Meanwhile, speculation in the Greek capital was intense. Sir Charles Peake had continued 'living under great strain' whilst he awaited instructions to submit the scheme to Karamanlis and his new Foreign Minister, Evangelos Averoff (Theotokis having at last been forced to resign).71 Bottled up in his Embassy, the Ambassador's nerves by this time were close to being shattered, and Lady Peake, in evident distress, rang the Foreign Office, not only to warn officials of her husband's condition, but to '* Courtney to State Department, 19 June 1956, Box 3276, RG59, State Department Records, USNA. 67 The Times report in FO.^y i /12389971240. 68 R. Makins to Foreign Office, 21 June 1956, ^'0371/123900,1101081/1284. M Makins to Foreign Office, 22 June 1956, ibid. 711 Sec exchange in FO371 /123901, RG1081 /1345. 71 Ward, minute, 11 May 1956, FO37I/123889, RG 1081/954.


139

complain bitterly of the way he was being treated by his own masters, as well as by the Greeks; she could, she said, 'get no sense' out of him about the uselessness of carrying on, and threatened to take her grievance personally to ministers.72 The truth was that just as the Greek Government had been cut out of the circuit of British diplomacy over Cyprus, so was the British Embassy in Athens. Peake was merely the victim of a process which his own advice had not infrequently fostered. It was a sad end for somebody who loved both Greece and the Greeks, whatever he thought their political failings to be. Although back in the Foreign Office it was remarked that a 'weak and nervy' Ambassador was hardly an advantage, it was not in Athens that the real game was being played out. Peake was consequently left in a state of mental collapse whilst the Turks got a first look at the plan. When Bowker showed the details to Zorlu on 20 June, however, they were firmly rejected. 'The plan', Bowker told Selwyn Lloyd, 'has brought back with a rush all the suppressed doubts and misgivings which they [the Turks] felt during the negotiations with Makarios and the feeling that they will have to go it alone [over Cyprus].'73 It was because Harding had foreseen such a point that his original dispatch had called for 'judicious pressure' to be brought to bear on Ankara at the crucial moment. That such judiciousness was severely limited by the special operations of the 'Turkishpolitical factor' was suggested by the meeting of fifty members of the Tory 'Suez Group' who met in London on 27 June to discuss their reactions should the British Government make any move involving Cypriot self-determination.74 Whilst not in any sense directly coordinated with Turkish pressure, there is little doubt that a link existed between these phenomena—at least some of the MPs concerned, for example, were frequent visitors to the Turkish Embassy throughout this period. In his preparations for a Commons statement on Cyprus scheduled for 12 July, Eden, closely attuned to these undercurrents, duly sent back the first draft supplied by the Colonial Office because it 'implied too much eagerness for self-determination'.75 When the premier did speak at the Dispatch Box, eagerness of any sort was absent. Eden referred to the tireless efforts of his Government on behalf of a settlement, but said that it had proved impossible to define an approach which did not 'raise far wider issues for our Turkish allies'.76 In these circumstances, he said, there was no alternative but to press on with the more modest goal of developing internal self-government. He also informed the House that Lord Radcliffe would be leaving the very next day for Cyprus to begin his investigations as Constitutional Commissioner. In a subsequent debate it was stressed, however, that the purpose of Radcliffe's visit was not to talk to anybody in particular, but merely 'to get the atmosphere of the island'.77 'He will certainly get that,' guffawed one member of the Opposition. 72 73 74 75 76 77

Ward,minute,22June 1956,FO37i/i23905,RGio8i/i462. Bowker to Ward, 20 June 1956, FO371 /123901 /1368. Fransois Crouzet, Le Conflit de Chypre, 7946-7959,2 vols. (Brussels, 1973), ii. 833-4. Philip de Zuleta to Logan, 12 July 1956,00926/592. Parliamentary Debates (Commons), 1955-6, vol. 556,12 July 1956, cols. 596-8. Ibid. 19 July 1956,00!. 1443.

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The result, then, of the abortive 'June Plan' was to do nothing to ease Harding's dilemmas as Governor of Cyprus. His feelings at this abortive outcome may be deduced from his comment, tinged with bitterness, on a draft of Eden's Commons statement that 'it calls into question the sincerity of everything we have said on the subject of self-determination and would be a god-send to our detractors'.78 The fact was that the configuration of pressures in London and Nicosia underpinned very different priorities in shaping an acceptable initiative. The most which Eden could afford to contemplate was a very limited exercise in constitution-making explicitly divorced from any question of self-determination. Yet as Harding had sought to impress on Lennox-Boyd after returning to Cyprus on 23 June, any constitutional move which did not at the same time deal firmly and precisely with self-determination would be worse than useless from his point of view, because it would merely reinforce mistrust of what the British were trying to do79—one could almost hear the Cypriot ghost of Sir Robert Armitage extolling self-determination to ministers as the one real, vital, all-absorbing point. Even if it was impossible for the moment to push ahead without Turkish agreement, Harding argued despairingly, it was essential that Her Majesty's Government publish the contents of the present plan so that 'we shall have fixed a visible light at the end of the tunnel for the Greek-Cypriot people, which is a pre-requisite to their cooperation in restoring law and order, and in framing a constitution'.*10 This proposition, too, however, was rejected, and the details of the June proposals were, in fact, never to see the light of day. Something of the fracture in British policy-making showed through in an article which appeared in the London Evening Standard on 17 July by Randolph Churchill, never the most emollient of authors. This lambasted British ministers who in effect abdicated their own responsibility for determining the future of a British colony to a foreign Government, and in the mean time left it up to a distinguished soldier to cope with the ensuing mess. 'This', Churchill fits observed, with characteristic bile, 'is what passes for statesmanship in the Eden era.'81 Though not the sort of indiscreet language Harding would have employed, it is fairly certain that these words reflected an element in his feelings, and may even have been directly inspired by them. The Field-Marshal's sense of being let down was all the sharper because of disappointment on the security front in Cyprus. Whilst he had been closeted with the Cabinet in London, 'Operation Lucky Alphonse' had been unfolding. Harding closely scanned the ensuing flood of military telegrams, since a 'spectacular' breakthrough against EOKA might have allowed Her Majesty's Government some crucial freedom to manoeuvre, as well as enhancing the Governor's own leverage in his relations with the Cabinet. 'Spectacular' in this context had already come to mean something very specific: the elimination of Grivas. Indeed, it had become an assumption of the campaign that, deprived of Grivas' leadership, EOKA would collapse. 7S Harding, telegram to Lennox-Boyd, 5 July COQ26/592. ''' Harding, telegram to Lennox-Boyd, 25 June 1956, CO926/CO926/55I. sl Evening Standard (17 ]u\y 1956).

s

" Ibid.


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The most prized information recently obtained by intelligence operatives—including O'Driscoll and Linzee, the court-martialled officers—was that 'Dighenis' was on the run in the Kykko area. 'Lucky Alphonse' therefore meant getting lucky in the search to pin down one man. It was Grivas, however, who enjoyed the good fortune. On the morning of 7 June he was alerted by the barking of an Army dog, and with five others moved quickly south to avoid capture in the direction of the Paphos Forest. Although at one point this group ran headlong into a unit of paratroopers, and had to scatter in a hail of machine-gun fire, Grivas, with a single companion, managed to reach the vicinity of Trooditissa monastery on the i3th.82 From here he was able to pass in safe stages to the suburbs of Limassol, where he was to remain—concealed in a private residence—for many months. One commentator has contended that thereafter his role was greatly reduced, and that the machinery of terrorism he had created was left to 'freewheel under the force of its own momentum'.83 This underestimates Grivas' continuing ability to determine the overall level of EOKA activity through a primitive but effective communications system,84 as well as the degree to which British failure to catch him sapped their own credibility as the de facto rulers of the island. 'Lucky Alphonse' had succeeded in disorganizing the EOKA mountaingangs, and led to a number of deaths and captures, but it did not deliver a knock-out blow. In such a summary, mention must also be made of the forest fire in the Troodos foothills on 17 June, which killed twenty-one British soldiers and injured many more, making it the biggest single loss incurred by the British Army during the Emergency. In these troubled years, personal tragedy was to assume many forms.85 Harding's earnest hopes, then, of simultaneously crushing the terrorists and 'placating' Greek-Cypriot aspirations had been dashed. After Eden spoke in the House of Commons on 12 July, the only surviving fragment of the recent proposals was the Radcliffe constitutional mission. It was not much to be getting on with. The Commissioner arrived in Cyprus—travelling via Beirut, to avoid Athens—on 15 July, and 'got the atmosphere' of the colony by being taken everywhere under armed escort. No leading Greek-Cypriot representative agreed to see him. The sole press photograph showed Radcliffe sipping tea in a Turkish club in Famagusta; he also had several meetings with Kucuk and other Muslim representatives, who forcibly impressed on him their grievances. Yet the important thing was not for the Commissioner to talk to Cypriots, Greek or Turkish, but to confer with Harding. The 82

G. Grivas, Memoirs (London, 1964), pp. 66-7. N. Crawshaw, The Cyprus Revolt: An Account of the Struggle for Union with Greece (London, 1978), p. 248. 84 Grivas' messages to members of EOKA were restricted almost exclusively to group leaders or 'area commanders', and carried only by the most trusted agents using code names. His channel with the Greek Government lay through the Greek Consulate in Nicosia—delivery, however, being at a suitable distance from that building. Although the British knew of this circuit, they refrained from the precedent of seizing a diplomatic bag, or entering the Consulate, as they had previously occupied the Archbishopric. See Evangelos Averoff, Lost Opportunities. The Cyprus Qiiestion, /950-63 (New York, 1986), 161-2. 83 Mobile patrols along the treacherous mountain roads of Cyprus were highly dangerous, especially at night, and more British military personnel were killed in driving accidents during the Emergency than through the actions of EOKA. 83

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influence of the Governor, and the patent realities of the local situation, were discernible in the report which Radcliffe drew up for Lennox-Boyd after his return on 2 August (he had stayed in the island shorter than expected for a stark reason we shall see in the next chapter). Radcliffe began the analysis in this document by likening the contemporary Greek-Cypriot to the nineteenth-century Irishman: that is, to somebody who had fallen over a long period into an infantile delusion—in this case, Enosis—and who had built up a deep distrust of those who ruled over him.'% To exorcise this mistrust required, Radcliffe argued, a constitution which not only laid down very clearly what powers were exercised by whom, but which should above all things be generous in spirit. Radcliffe concluded: In short, my own limited observation leads me to confirm the view that the 'pacification' of Cyprus does absolutely depend upon the making of a elear and public decision about selfdetermination—until that is clone, pacification will not begin in any serious sense, and until then the offer . . . of any constitution will be seen only as one more in the game which is played around the question of self-determination. 87

The Commissioner was repeating here the pure milk of Harding's own evolving doctrine. The emphasis on the link between a generous recognition of the application of self-determination and the process of restoring law and order in the island reflected the priorities of the military man, with all its limitations of analysis and feeling. It did not look much beyond the actual restoration of normalcy. Nothing more could be expected of a Field-Marshal. Nevertheless, if only by dint of the very responsibilities he carried, Harding had come to understand the relationship between constitutional questions and the roots of violence more profoundly than during his frustrating negotiations with the Archbishop some months before. But although Radcliffe, as Constitutional Commissioner for Cyprus, had grasped the point of this experience whilst cooped up at the height of sweltering summer in the Governor's office in Nicosia, it was to be another matter maintaining the logic when dealing with ministers whose priorities were shaped in very different ways. Viewed from London, and above all the Cabinet room, any 'game' being played out in Cyprus was, indeed, only one round in a much more complicated contest of survival linking the Middle East with the factional and ideological tensions within British Conservatism. That competition could not be shut off quite as easily as the Governor often seemed to think. Whilst hoping desperately for some lucky break against EOKA, Eden and his colleagues therefore came to depend on Harding simply to keep a lid on the island's troubles, unmoved, and sometimes exasperated, by his pleas for action to break out of the local spiral of intimidation and counterintimidation. As it happened, however, another event took place whilst Radcliffe was in Cyprus which \vas bound to have radical consequences throughout the eastern Mediterranean. On a hot, sultry night in Cairo on 26 July, President Gamal Abdul 8(1

'Note by Lord Radcliffe on his return from Visit to Cyprus 14 July to 8 August 1956', €0926/244. "7 Ibid.

Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, i 954-1 959

143

Nasser suddenly broke off the predictable and rhetorical flow of a speech to a large crowd of his supporters to make the very practical announcement—staggering to the ears of his delirious audience, as it was to be to the outside world—that the Egyptian Government had nationalized the Suez Canal Company. Cypriot events had always been in some degree hostage to the bufferings of Anglo-Egyptian rivalry. Never was this to be more so than in the succeeding months. There could be no flickering light in the Cypriot tunnel until this larger, if not necessarily more intense, blaze had consumed itself.

6 The Sands of Goodwill, 27 July 1956-5 April 1957 The 'Suez Crisis' of 1956 occupies a central place in British history during the twentieth century. As such, it is usually thought of as an episode of foreign policy set against the backdrop of Middle Eastern affairs. It was also, however, a specifically Mediterranean crisis which formed part of a larger pattern of nationalist turbulence in that region from 1945 through to the early 19608. In this regard the post-war traumas in Palestine, Greece, Cyprus, Egypt, and French North Africa formed a continuum; even little Malta had a noisy and not bloodless Emergency during its own prelude to independence. Never were the threads of this regional phenomenon to be pulled more tightly together than in the summer and autumn of 1956, when Nasserism and its allies appeared to mount a direct challenge to the old colonial powers from Algeria to the Levant. Greece could scarcely remain unaffected by events so relatively nearby. Furthermore, although she had not been a signatory to the 1880 Suez Canal Convention, the high percentage of traffic traversing the Canal that was Greek registered, and the prominent role of Greek nationals amongst the pilots of the Company, meant that the United Kingdom could not exclude Greece from an invitation to attend the London Maritime Conference which Prime Minister Eden called together in September. According to Peake's deputy in Athens, Charles Lambert (who ran the Embassy when Peake took sick leave), the situation posed in acute form the question 'of where Greece stands today in the contemporary world'.1 Hitherto Greek officialdom had tried to conduct its Cyprus policy in a way which did not burn any bridges behind it. It was Suez, Lambert went on, which revealed the 'cracks in the facade', and brought about a local political climate which, like the physical climate, was 'not quite Europe, nor Asia, nor Africa'. In this profound sense, Greece was not unlike Egypt, suspended between different worlds, and harbouring elements from contrasting but adjacent cultures. Nevertheless, it seemed inevitable, Lambert thought, that as a result of the escalating pressures Greece would be forced to slide down one side or the other—and even, perhaps, to recede behind the Iron Curtain as it nearly had done only a few years before. That the Greek Government refused Eden's invitation to the Maritime Conference reflected a desire above all to avoid choosing sides, and in so doing to prevent the substantial Greek community in Egypt from being subsumed in the anti-British and anti-western currents in that country. 2 The British Embassy in Greece was eager to 1

Lambert to Lloyd, 29 Sept. 1956, FOjy 1/123850. The Greek community in Egypt had been closely integrated into the 'capitulatory' framework established by the leading European powers in the nineteenth century, and it was probably inevitable that 2


145

dissuade the British Government from imposing any penalty for this abstention. Lambert counselled that a political assault, far from 'bringing her to her senses', would have the opposite effect on Greek opinion, basing his advice on the premiss 'that we do not wish to destroy Greece altogether'. That there was a temptation to 'destroy' Greece, just as there was a wish to destroy Egypt, indicated the complexity of the psychological setting in which political decisions were being made—though what 'destroy' meant in such contexts was indefinable. The conference in London failed anyway to arrive at worthwhile conclusions. Eden's heart was not in it. The next stage of the British Prime Minister's increasingly covert strategy required that Egypt's ability to run the Canal on her own be clearly demonstrated, and it was in order to achieve this that 'Operation Mayhem' was undertaken, in which British and French pilots were ordered by their home governments to leave the Company's employment, while a record volume of merchant ships was directed to the waterway. The fact that this ruse failed in no small part because the Greek pilots continued to ply their skills even after their British and French colleagues left did nothing to salvage Anglo-Greek relations. One index of this polarization was the deluge of pro-Enosis and anti-British pamphlets suddenly appearing in English and Greek versions at Athens airport. A number of British travellers passing through were so appalled that they got into some unseemly arguments, including one overwrought member of the United Kingdom's Olympic squad on his way to the Melbourne Games. To Harding, the situation at the Hellenikon terminal testified to the British Government's failure to counter effectively aggressive Greek publicity about Cyprus, and he insisted that the Foreign Office in London ensure that the offending material be withdrawn. In that department the assumption that to achieve this they merely had to speak firmly enough to Karamanlis was exasperating. To satisfy the Governor, officials nonetheless went through all sorts of possible courses of action, but to no avail. When a boycott of the Athens route by British European Airways was considered, it turned out to be the British airline's most profitable 'hub', so that going elsewhere would be selfdefeating.3 This illustrated the depressing truth that the United Kingdom's ability to impose her will on minor powers was in rapid decline. It was, indeed, the fact that Britain could not impose herself even on such subordinate countries as Egypt and Greece, not so much that she was undergoing relegation vis-d-vis the superpowers of the United States and the Soviet Union, which fuelled a sense of national diminution so prevalent in parts of British society as 1956 progressed. The emergent Suez crisis also cut across Anglo-Turkish relations. The value of Turkish support to the Eden government increased since that country was the only absolutely reliable Middle Eastern power beyond the arm of Nasserism (even any hope that the Nasser regime would treat them sympathetically was eventually disappointed. For the migration of 'Egyptian' Greeks back to Greece see Vassilis Panaytopoulos, 'Les Grecs d'Egypte a Athenes', in J. L. Miege and Collette Dubois, L 'Europe retrouve: les migrations de la decolonisation (Paris, 1994). ' Ward, minute, 25July 1956, FO37i/i 17865, RGio8i/67.

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Nuri-es-Said's pro-British regime in Iraq was not cast-iron in this sense). The point was underlined as some of Britain's old Commonwealth partners appeared less than staunch over the Canal question. Meanwhile, the reliability of Britain in Turkish eyes came under closer scrutiny as the crisis unfolded. Radical Arab nationalism was a threat to the interests of both countries—and ultimately more to Turkey than Britain, as growing frictions over the Turkish-Syrian border illustrated. Consequently, Ankara looked to the British Government to deal decisively with Nasser, as it had somewhat belatedly done with Makarios. For Menderes and Zorlu the two 'tests' ran together. At bottom, Turkey was not likely to turn against Britain so long as the latter did not let her down. But if Britain appeared to falter in the face of difficulty, as she had done so often before in the post-war Middle East, assumptions in the Turkish leadership were liable to change rapidly. Cyprus was the place where instability in this vital relationship was bound to make itself felt. The most obvious link between the Suez crisis and Cyprus, however, lay in the part ascribed to the island in 'Operation Musketeer' (the invasion of Egypt). It had always underlain British strategic thinking that the real value of Cyprus related to the scenario of a unilateral (that is, non-NATO) expedition to defend British national interests in the Levant. For some while it had been assumed that such an intervention would take place in Jordan with the limited aim of dissuading Israel from an attempt to extend its frontiers beyond those established by the Arab-Jewish war of 1948-9. An invasion of Egypt was a riskier exercise altogether, even in harness, as it turned out, with France. It entailed the concentration of a significant land force, the bulk of which would have to be transported by sea, and one of the most crucial planning decisions in 'Musketeer' was the relegation of Cyprus to the platform from which the initial wave of airborne assaults was to be launched. The great harbour of Valletta in Malta—also, of course, a British colony—was instead selected as the maritime staging-post for the invasion. Later on Field-Marshal Harding, amongst others, was to consider that the eventual debacle was due in large part to the greater length of time required for the troop-ships to get to Egypt from Malta than would have been the case from Limassol, the use of which, he contended, was logistically feasible for the purpose.4 This mistake he attributed primarily to political interference. That there was a rebellion going on in Cyprus, but not in Malta, must surely have been a factor in the making of these arrangements, though whether the outcome would have been any different goes beyond the realm of this book, other than to say that Grivas would have taken great pride in thinking of himself, however indirectly, as the arbiter of the battle over Suez. In a more limited and practical sense, 'Musketeer' put to the test those often rather wobbly arguments about the military significance of the island—-including its lack of a real port—which had been current from the original conception of British occupation in 1878, and on which Her Majesty's Government's determination to maintain its sovereignty continued to hinge. Events in Cyprus, meanwhile, did not wait on what was happening elsewhere. 4

Note on 'Eden Memoirs' in Harding Papers, National Army Museum.


147

One reason why Lord Radcliffe had returned to London ahead of schedule on 2 August was that the Governor had impressed on him the urgency of conveying to the British Government the preliminary conclusions which they had discussed so closely together. But another, perhaps even more compelling, reason was to avoid being present when three more men condemned for terrorist offences—Andreas Zakos (aged 25), Harilaos Michael (aged 22), and lakovos Patsatsos (also 22)—were executed; the effect, otherwise, would have been fatally to compromise Radcliffe's mission before it even got off the ground.5 Pleas on behalf of the trio stressed that a reprieve would help to create the 'right atmosphere' for the Commissioner's work.6 The grim situation was made more dramatic by EOKA's abduction of a retired British official, Mr Cremer, and the threat to kill him if Zakos, Michael, and Patsatsos were hanged. On 4 August Zakos appealed from prison for Cremer's release, and the Englishman was within hours dumped, alive, on a deserted road near Karavas. Harding remained unmoved, and on 7 August the Governor and his Executive Council decided against commutation of the sentences.7 As in early May, security in Nicosia was stepped up during the days and hours prior to the executions. This time the streets around the prison were cordoned off with barbed wire to prevent crowds getting near. Of particular concern were conditions within the Prison, which Harding had recently told the Colonial Office was in an 'explosive state' due to overcrowding, shortage of warders (all Greeks had resigned), and the unruly behaviour of the inmates. Afterwards the Governor described to Lennox-Boyd as 'exaggerated' reports that on the night of 8/9 August the Central Prison had been in 'complete pandemonium', but his own highly coloured account sent to the Colonial Office lends credence to the Times of Cyprus'1 evocation of the eerie atmosphere of the occasion, with the sound of baleful singing from the other prisoners, the banging of whatever heavy objects came to hand, and the fact that the din could be heard even inside the saloon bar of the Ledra Palace Hotel.8 After a slight delay for the usual arrangements to be made, the three men were executed in the early hours of 9 August. Whether Zakos' last request was to listen to a recording of Bach, as Enosis propaganda claimed, is beside the point; it was the after-touches of this sort which refined the cult of martyrdom in the GreekCypriot mind. A three-day general strike ensued which brought the island to a standstill, whilst requiem services were held in all Orthodox churches. One Greek-Cypriot historian, by no means an admirer of EOKA, has remarked in relation to the executions of convicted terrorists that Governor Harding was 'heavyhanded and lacked those flickers of humanity necessary to make the man come alive'.9 It is easy to sympathize with this criticism, though it should be added that 5 A Turkish-Cypriot had received £5,000 for information leading to the arrest of Patsatsos. For this case see FO37i /123919, RG1081 /1884. 6 For the appeals see 00926/570. 7 Francois Crouzet, Le Conflit de Chypre, 1946-1959,2 vols. (Brussels, 1973), ii. 559. 8 Times of Cyprus (8 Aug. 1956). For the Governor's account see Harding to Lennox-Boyd, 9 Aug. i956,PREMn/i75i. 9 Doros Alastos, Cyprus Guerrilla: Grivas, Makarios and the British (London, 1960), p. 7.

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Harding commuted a significant number of mandatory capital sentences where no actual bodily harm had occurred. In early August EOKA had unleashed a series of urban assassinations in which twenty-one Greek 'traitors' had been killed—the victims often sought out in cafes to accentuate the public ritual of the horror. It was hardly surprising that Radcliffe had no Greek visitors during his stay. Harding could not understand why some on his own side did not see that any show of sympathy in these conditions was fatally misplaced. When the distinguished British Ambassador in Rome, Sir Ashley Clarke, for example, entered such a plea, with an eye on 'liberal' opinion in western Europe, the Governor pronounced himself'speechless with rage and amazement' that a senior British representative could fail to recognize the necessities which sprang from the burdens which he was being asked to discharge.10 In reality, the truth was not that Harding lacked feeling or humanity, but rather perhaps that he allowed his own sense of outage to enter too powerfully into the making of political and moral judgements. The occasion for a very important political judgement supervened when on 16 August, quite out of the blue, Grivas announced a ceasefire. In leaflets which circulated that afternoon he stated his readiness to facilitate the renewal of discussions between the British Government and Archbishop Makarios by offering a full-scale truce. 'EOKA declares', this announcement ran, 'that it will stand on its guard, ready for new sacrifices, knowing that it has all the moral and material backing necessary, [signed] EOKA, the Leader, Dighenis."1 Grivas' move was widely said to be a response to an interview given the day before to the Times of Cyprus by Harding. In this the Governor had defended the recent executions vigorously, but he had also struck another note. On the crucial matter of Makarios' role he noted there was no question of a draft constitution being sent to him for approval, but added 'I daresay that he [Makarios] will have an opportunity of expressing his views about it like everybody else' (indeed, Harding and Radcliffe had already touched in their talks on the need, sooner or later, to bring the Archbishop 'back into the picture'). 'If there is to be a stopping of violence and its consequences in this island,' Harding had told Foley's newspaper, 'I can only say, "Let the murderers make the first move"."2 Grivas did not keep him waiting long. Whether Harding's words had been the cause, rather than just the occasion, of Grivas1 initiative is problematical. The latter had for some weeks been under pressure from Karamanlis and Averoff to stop the spate of violence. The Greek Government had recently appointed as its Consul-General in Nicosia an official, Angelos Vlachos, who was known to be critical of perfervid Enosis feeling and the risks it entailed for other parts of the Greek world. Allegedly it was Vlachos who composed the ceasefire proclamation, giving it a clipped, businesslike style very different from the florid character of most EOKA literature." It was also probably true that Grivas 111

Harding, telegram to Lennox-Koyd, 9 Aug. 11)56, F()37i 7123917, RGioS 1/1812. " George Grivas, Memoirs (London, 1964), p. 87. 12

Times of Cyprus (i(> Aug. 1956).

" Evangelos Averoff, Lost Opportunities, The Cyprus Qtiestion, /950-6j (New York, 1986), p. 91.

Brita in and the Revolt in Cyprus, 1954-1959

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could not stand for long against the expression of Athenian views when they were insistent enough. He also understood that he could not go on ordering the killing of Greek-Cypriots, 'traitors' or otherwise, without eventually reaping a whirlwind of his own. Such assassination campaigns were always carried out in spurts, and then halted. It so happened, then, that Harding's interview coincided with the peaking of a short but sharp period of EOKA activity. That Grivas' announcement was read out over the Cyprus Broadcasting Service gave it a certain status. Several minor Emergency Regulations were relaxed at once. 'Goodwill glows miraculous,' the Times of Cyprus reported14—it was a feature throughout the Emergency that it only required a sudden ray of hope to produce a wave of public relief and optimism. But was the 'goodwill' in the Grivas offer real? Would not any positive response to it by the British be dancing to the terrorist tune? Rumours abounded that the Cyprus administration was divided as to what to do. These divisions were hinted at in Harding's message to Lennox-Boyd that the local authorities intended 'to respond by a carefully thought out policy of [a] progressive relaxation of Emergency measures', adding, however, that it would be necessary 'to hold the balance between giving EOKA an excuse for starting up [violence] again with a large measure of public support. . . and running after them on the other'.15 What the Governor wanted while this balance was being struck was for Her Majesty's Government to press on as quickly as possible with the Radcliffe exercise, and to bypass EOKA by pursuing an international agreement on Cyprus. In other words, he wanted the Cabinet to develop its own constructive initiative, and not be dragged along in the wake of Grivas, losing the propaganda war as it went. There was strong evidence that the Greek Government was ready to take part in a Cyprus deal. It is relevant to note at this point the Turkish claim that it was Averoff who was the first tentatively to float the possibility of a compromise involving partition in the summer of 1956, and although this was always to be hotly denied by the minister concerned, there is some evidence to back the assertion up.16 Both Karamanlis and Averoff apprehended that the crisis in the Eastern Mediterranean was gradually edging Greece towards a precipice, and they sought ways—even potentially controversial ways—to avoid it. The British Embassy in Athens informed London three days after Grivas' announcement that the Greek authorities were desperate 'to get shot of it [the Cyprus problem] and the opportunity may now have come'.17 Leaflets demanding Enosis suddenly disappeared from Athens airport. But the Greeks could not get shot of Cyprus without British cooperation. The very intensity of the crisis in August 1956, however, made it impossible for Eden to send out the kind of friendly signals which might be interpreted as allowing a 'shout of triumph' to the United Kingdom's opponents without risking his wider diplomacy and 14

Times of Cyprus (19 Aug. 1956). Harding, telegram to Lennox-Boyd, 29 Sept. 1956,00926/552. lfl See material in FO37i/i23926,RGio8i/203i.AlsoOwen T.Jones to L. Berry, 18 Aug. 1956, Box 3277, RGsg, State Department Records, USNA. 17 Lambert, telegram to Foreign Office, 19 Aug. 1956, FO37i/i239i8, RGio8i/i825. 15

1 50

27 July 1 956-5 April 1 957

perhaps his premiership. An instruction against making 'nice noises' about Cyprus to Athens was therefore issued from i o Downing Street.18 Any chance of conciliatory action being taken up at the international level consequently slipped by. As a result, Harding was left to make up his own mind on a purely local response to Grivas' move. From the outset his security advisers were against any positive reaction to the EOKA announcement. Their immediate assessment was that Grivas' action was dictated by the losses which the organization had recently suffered —as was certainly the case in some degree. Army commanders did not therefore regard the proffered truce as, in Brigadier Baker's expression, 'a truce in the proper sense of the word', but only a temporary and calculated suspension of EOKA activities in order to enjoy a 'breather' whilst preparing a fresh onslaught.1" The crude threat remaining in Grivas' statement whilst shorn of the more 'flowery' Enosis sentiments, gave some credence to such an interpretation. The crystallization of an 'antitruce' logic within senior British echelons in Cyprus at this juncture was important, and for the rest of the Emergency the Security Forces were to resist having their operations turned 'on' and 'off for purely political purposes. Against this background, for Harding to have overruled his military advisers he would have needed to have reinvented himself, wrhich was not something he was ever tempted, or had the suppleness of personality, to do whilst he was in Cyprus. The Cyprus Government's reply to Grivas' offer was communicated on 22 August by radio, and by thousands of leaflets distributed throughout the island; in the remote mountains it was broadcast with the aid of loudspeakers from low-flying aircraft. This reply laid out terms of surrender to be accepted or rejected within the next three weeks. These included a limited amnesty whereby EOKA fighters were given the choice of either going to Greece, or of staying in the island, in which case only those accused of crimes against the person would be prosecuted. No commitment was made about the ending of the Emergency or talking to Makarios. Harding admitted to Lennox-Boyd that this 'offer' was not likely to lead to the surrender of many hard-core EOKA operatives. 'The main reason for putting out surrender terms', he said, 'are political. It will regain for us the initiative which for the moment EOKA has seized by its dramatic gesture.'20 At the same time, he explained, they would provide 'full justification for continuing our operations against the terrorists'. Grivas' retort was brisk: either Harding withdrew his insulting terms, or EOKA would regain its 'freedom of action' on 27 August. Echoing the ancient cry of Thermopylae, he added 'Heroes do not surrender: come and get us.' Less banal was the action of an EOKA group which strapped a bundle of wooden rifles around a donkey's rump and dispatched the forlorn creature down a village street with a sign around its neck declaring, 'I surrender, my Field Marshal.' The resulting photograph was reproduced in certain sections of the international press. It so happened that a chance for the British to regain the propaganda initiative had 1S

P. Dean, minute, 21 Aug. 1956, FO37i/i23g22, RGioSi/igr?. '" Brigadier G. H. Baker, 'The Cyprus Emergency', unpub. paper, Imperial War Museum, p. 57. Harding, telegram to I,cnnox-Boyd, 21 Aug. 1956, (^0926/427.

20

Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, /954-7959

151

by then already arisen in a most fortuitous manner. On 21 August a further batch of Grivas' guerrilla diaries was found buried in a number of glass jars close to Lyssi village, adding to the fragments which had fallen into British hands when EOKA's leader had so nearly been captured on 7 June. This new manuscript was substantial, amounting to some 250,000 words (of which only 10,000 were ever published). It gave details, amongst other things, of Grivas' relations with Archbishop Makarios up to, but not beyond, i April 1955. At first officials in London were not convinced of the authenticity of this document, suspecting that it might be a stunt organized from within the Cyprus Government; a graphologist was sent out to check.21 Once any doubts of Grivas' authorship were dispelled, even amongst Greeks, the question in British circles was how to exploit this literary bonanza. The striking thing about what followed is that the diaries were not used primarily to discredit Grivas himself. Indeed, as time went on, Grivas escaped intense opprobrium amongst the British. 'In the eyes of many of them', wrote Doros Alastos, recalling attitudes amongst the British Army in Cyprus,' "Dighenis" gradually became an object of respect, even of fascination.'22 A kind of exculpatory fascination with terrorists is not a unique phenomenon. With Grivas, both the Security Forces in the island, and Her Majesty's Government in London, knew where they were. He could be pursued, and, if found alive, probably killed on the spot, since it was always assumed that he would never allow himself to be taken; but whatever his eventual fate, he posed no grave political dilemma, no acutely embarrassing questions.23 This provides the key to why it was Makarios, the man of politics, not Grivas, the man of violence, who invariably aroused the deepest British emotions, and why it was the Archbishop whom the British sought to compromise with the help of the discovered material. Once the bulk of the diaries were flown to London, therefore, the translators were set to work abstracting potentially incriminating material on Makarios. On 25 August Kirkpatrick triumphantly called the United States Ambassador to the Foreign Office and gave him the 'full works' purporting to show that 'Makarios [is] effective Commander [of] terrorist forces, Dighenis entirely in character [of] Chief of Staff, and the Greek Government fully implicated as [the] directing power'.24 The Ambassador ignored this simple formulation of what were, in reality, highly complex and by no means harmonious relationships, and instead impressed on his host the urgency of doing nothing to make conciliation more difficult. When Aldrich stressed the same point on a second visit soon afterwards, Kirkpatrick spoke to him so roughly that he soon departed, though not before the Head of the Foreign Office expostulated that 'we [the British Government] were not going to negotiate with Archbishop Makarios', and that, speaking personally, he would 'sooner negotiate with the 21

For checks on the authenticity of the diaries, sec FO371 /123921, RG1081 /1901. Alastos, Cyprus Guerrilla, 14. An extreme form of this tendency was the idea current in certain intelligence circles, and put to Macmillan by the right-wing Conservative MP Julian Amery, that Grivas be converted into a stalkinghorse for British interests as 'Dictator' of Greece. In the Foreign Office cooler minds dismissed any idea that Grivas might eventually prove to be 'just another Papagos'. See FO371/130071, RGCioi8/i8. 24 Aldrich, telegram to Dulles, 24 Aug. 1956, Box 3277, RG,S9, State Department Records, USNA. 22

23

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27 July 1956-5 April 1957

terrorist Grivas'. 25 On 26 August Lennox-Boyd took the unusual step of holding a press conference on a Sunday—the choice of the Sabbath being made to rub home a religious point—to unveil the diaries and distribute selected passages. Shortly afterwards in Parliament the minister focused his analysis on what the diaries revealed about Makarios' share 'in the foundations of EOKA, in its operational planning, in the starting of violence, in the discussion of the choice of victims, and in many other ways'.2'1 Although many people—including Conservative MPs—were afterwards to press for the full and unexpurgated publication of the diaries, this request was never to be met. As the Crown's own legal officers had often to repeat thereafter, there was, in fact, nothing in them relating to Makarios which could stand up in a court of law. 'A successful trial of such a high ecclesiastic', an official advised, 'is virtually impossible for a democracy under rule of law';27 and although the temptation to act against the Cyprus Church was to continue almost to the very end of our story, this profound restraint was always to remain in place. By the end of all these convolutions there was not much left for anybody in Cyprus to do except hold their breath and wait for violence to start up again. Harding's concern was that when it did, public support for EOKA should not be forthcoming, and it was in a desperate attempt to prevent this that in drafting his radio broadcast for 30 August he sought to strike what he called 'a more helpful and constructive note' by including a sympathetic reference to the concession of a Greek-elected majority in an eventual constitution, 28 thereby returning to the critical issue which more than any other had brought about the collapse of the Anglo-Cypriot talks back in late February. Lennox-Boyd insisted, however, that such a reference be omitted 'in view of the fact that nothing positive can be said about its solution'. 29 Grivas' deadline passed without an>- such note being struck. On i September a major incident took place when a prominent EOKA prisoner, Polycarpos Georgkat/is, feigned illness, and was taken to a local hospital, where he was rescued by attackers who killed a British policeman and a Greek medical orderly (two terrorists also died in the shoot-out). Shortly after a bomb exploded in the main British Secretariat building in the capital—proof again of EOKA's ability to penetrate the heart of government. Over the month as a whole eight more Greeks were murdered by EOKA, and ten members of the Security Forces. The reference to a Greek-elected majority had not been the only one which Lennox-Boyd judiciously excised from the Governor's draft speech as Grivas' deadline expired. Harding had at one point also defended his own role by likening it to that of a 'surgeon who has to use his knife to restore the health of his patient', an analogy which alarmed the Colonial Secretary as bound to provide la gift to Low or Vicky' (the most celebrated, and sometimes merciless, political cartoonists of their ' Kirkpatrick, minute, 27 Aug. 1956, FO37I/123921, RG 1081/11)03. Parliamentary Debates (Commons), 7955 6, vol. 558, 14 Sept. 1956, col. 383. - Ward, minute, 5 Sept. 1956, F()37i7123926, 1*01081/1932. 2 Harding, telegram to Lennox-Boyd, 28 Aug. 1956, (^0926/254. 2 Lennox-Boyd to I larding, 29 Aug. 1956, ibid.

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day).30 That the British Cabinet continued to oppose a move to lighten the political atmosphere, whilst also denying the Governor an opportunity to explain in his own way why his actions took the stern form they did, fuelled Harding's impatience. That he wished to explain himself to the disaffected populace had a lot to do with the imminence of a new set of capital cases under Emergency laws. In mid-September the Executive Council confirmed the death sentences on three more Greeks condemned for EOKA-related crimes—Mavromatis, Koutsoftas, and Panayides. When these men's lawyers had an interview with the Governor on the 20th, they argued strenuously that it would be morally indefensible for the executions to be carried out after the previous month's 'surrender offer'. 'Once His Excellency had invoked the spirit of clemency and forgiveness', they stated, 'it seemed unfair to let the men die because the amnesty had not had the effect which had been expected'; if the sentences were nonetheless carried out, they continued, 'it would be clear that the purpose of the executions was to serve as a deterrent for others rather than as a punishment on these men'.31 Harding was seemingly unmoved. '[I]t was', he told the pleaders, 'the existing conditions and circumstances to which he had to have regard and not the hypothetical situation which might have arisen if events had followed a different and happier path.'32 This was always the nub of his argument against those who spoke in mitigation of 'terrorism', just as it was when dealing with the British Cabinet; so long as violence lasted, there could be no 'middle way' in the rigorous implementation of the law. The three men were duly hanged during the early hours of 22 September. The fact that the mandatory death penalty was conceived as primarily a collective punishment—or collective deterrent—was also bound up with the blurring of guilt and innocence which so vitally affected the moral history of the Cyprus Emergency. A similar dynamic was involved in the practice of curfews, which also became widespread during the late summer of 1956. One week after the three hangings, two British Police Sergeants were shot dead in Nicosia's Ledra Street—the 'Murder Mile' of the sensationalist Fleet Street press—and the Greek quarter of the capital was subjected to the toughest curfew yet. This time hardly any warning was given, so few families were able to stock up with essentials. Access to the municipal market was barred even during the short intervals allowed for individuals to emerge from the airless interiors of houses and apartments to fetch water and other necessaries. This went on for eight days. The whole point of the ceaseless patrolling by Security Forces, the close regulation of movement (so that even to appear on a balcony was hazardous), and the interrogation of household heads in screened-off compounds, was not to catch the murderers, who had quite obviously got clean away, but to induce in the people at large a sense of guilt, of complicity in terror, and hence a radical 'change of heart'. Harding had always warned Makarios that life would be very 10 11

Ibid.

Record of an interview granted by Governor to the lawyers of Mavromatis, Koutsoftas, and Panayides, 20 Sept. 1956, SAi 71325,1956, Public Record Office of Cyprus, Nicosia. 32 Ibid.

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unpleasant if the troubles continued, and unpleasant it certainly became. Nor was it Harding's fault that there was no apparent way out. Yet, to an English correspondent in the Times of Cyprus, 'no finer pressure cooker' for EOKA could be devised than the strict curfewing which became such a feature of Cypriot experience.31 The build-up of tension in Cyprus reflected also the rising crescendo over Suez. British planning for military action against Egypt had alternating effects on the security situation in the colony. Initially Harding had troops taken away from his command, as units returned to Britain for training in airborne landing (that the training could not take place in Cyprus was itself a comment on conditions). From midSeptember, however, significant reinforcements arrived. With Anglo-French collusion central to 'Operation Musketeer', 15,000 of these men were from France— or rather, from Algeria, since the Government of Guy Mollct in Paris diverted paratroopers in their famous leopard-skin uniforms from North Africa. They were met off the ships not only by British officers, but also by EOKA leaflets which warned them to do nothing to help the British Security Forces whilst they were there. In fact the French had little intention of doing so, and relations between the two allied armies in Cyprus were politely cool on the way out to Egypt, and (not surprisingly, given what happened in between) more fractious on the return leg, when fights in Nicosia's less salubrious bars became not uncommon—French soldiers, it was said, paraded up and down Ledra Street adopting the most gallic of poses as a form of immunity from anti-English feeling. Future complications were to be caused by the fact that in this interval an indeterminate quantity of guns found their way from French hands into those of EOKA.S4 The general build-up, nevertheless allowed the Governor to launch a fresh offensive in the Kyrenia mountains—'Operation Sparrowhawk'— which inflicted considerable damage on the terrorists. As October 1956 progressed, the Security Forces went flat out to break Grivas' organization before the unleashing of'Musketeer' inevitably drained British troops from the island once more. The very congestion on the island, with the British Army now numbering over 30,000, however, provided EOKA with easier targets. Whereas the latter's 'kill rate' had been ten per month prior to the truce, it shot up to twenty-six for several months afterwards, with the focus of these attacks shifting back to British military personnel. Particularly horrifying was the atrocity at Lefkonico on 23 October. Hitherto, EOKA's bomb devices had been very crude and often ineffective, but the terrorists' skills were improving. On this occasion a water-tap, regularly used by soldiers of the Highland Light Brigade after rugby, was wired up to a 'control' in the adjacent olive grove. Two soldiers were disembowelled and four badly injured in the resulting explosion. Horror was compounded by the fact that the fatal signal had been given by two Greek girls waving their handkerchiefs. To Grivas in his memoirs, the incident represented the glorious devotion of Greek-Cypriot youth to 'the cause'.'" The British widely took it as testimony to their evil delinquency, and it was true that the violence, and even more the cult of violence, now began to weave a vicious legacy. " Times of Cyprus (12 Oct. 1956).

" See p. 324.

-'5 Grivns, Memoirs, 96.


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Another disturbing aspect of the Lefkonico affair, however, was that when Security Forces got to the scene in strength, they 'did not conceal their anger'.36 This was a euphemism for Army reprisals on locals who happened to be in the vicinity at the time, and although only bumps and bruises were involved at this stage, it was a notable precedent. Consul Courtney, usually sympathetic to British dilemmas when it came to combating EOKA, if not on wider political matters, informed Washington that in the 'extensive and sustained drive' under way against the terrorists more and more ordinary Cypriots were 'getting rougher handling by [the] police and military'.37 As both a practitioner and theorist of insurgency, Grivas was to prove ruthlessly adept at manipulating this spiral of terror and counter-terror. In the often one-dimensional portrayal of Field-Marshal Harding, both at the time and since, critics alleged that he was blind to the process of alienation which his actions unleashed. It would be false to dispute this altogether, but it was true only up to a point, and it became less true as his governorship proceeded. Lord Radcliffe gave it as his impression following a second brief visit to Cyprus in early October 1956 that the Governor was 'inexperienced politically, had no senior political adviser, and felt politically isolated'.38 The isolation explains his growing, and some thought illjudged, reliance on John Reddaway to chart a path through the local labyrinth. His understanding always remained that of the soldier, and it was his greatest weakness in his new career that he could not alter his metier. Yet this did not mean that his insights were lacking in intelligence, or were necessarily illiberal. After all, soldiers had not infrequently acted as agents of reform in the history of British expansion and contraction overseas, if only by dint of their professional realism.39 There was a hint of such a desire in the tour d'horizon addressed by the Governor to the British Government on 5 October in which he began by reasserting that if given enough troops 'the Grivas organization can be put out of business as a major political factor in a matter of months'.40 Yet, sidelining EOKA politically was not the same thing as its eradication, and for the first time Harding added the vital proviso that even when the terrorists had been 'beaten', there could be no guarantee that they would not start up their activities after a brief interval. 'If that should happen', he added, 'the only way of suppressing it would be by methods similar to those I am now using. I cannot see any but the most determined [British] Government standing for that.' Consciousness that such methods could not, in fact, be kept up for very much longer, and that if the medicine had to be sharp, it had also to be short, started to loom large in Harding's mind. It made the need for political action all the more urgent. It also made him •'6 Nancy Crawshaw, The Cyprus Revolt: An Account of the Struggle for Union with Greece (London, 1978), p. 202. 37 Courtney, telegram 23 Oct. 1956, Box 3277, RGsg, State Department Records, USNA. 18 Kirkpatrick, minute, iSOct. 1956, FO3717123933. 19 In this context the clearest parallel to the pattern of Harding's experience in Cyprus, including his relations with the Government at home, is that of Lord Allenby as High Commissioner in Egypt during the disturbed period in Egypt after 1919. See Lord Wavell, Allenby in Egypt (London, 1943). 40 Harding, telegram to Colonial Office, 5 Oct. 1956,01)926/552.

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for the first time impatient with the absolute priority attached to avoiding trouble with Turkey. When Radcliffe should complete his report on a constitution for Cyprus, the Governor told Lennox-Boyd, it would be vital 'to bring all our guns to bear [on Ankara], i.e. to put heavy and sustained pressure on them which, as I now see it, we frightened ourselves out of doing in June'. In sum, Harding now felt ministers were being 'too soft on the Turks'. 41 Bringing a metaphorical gun to bear on Turkey, however, was one of the last things Eden and his Cabinet were likely to contemplate in October 1956 in the light of the wider Middle Eastern situation, and they acted quickly to dispel the Governor's apparent illusions. Alerted by Radcliffe to the degree to which Harding felt 'out on a limb', they first dispatched a junior Colonial Office minister, John Hare, to explain the formidable difficulties posed by the Governor's own proposals. At some point in Hare's discussion with Harding he evidently raised the possibility of partition as perhaps the only way to apply self-determination with any hope of Turkish consent, since the Governor immediately warned the Colonial Office that his administration 'shall never come to regard it [partition] as anything other than a counsel of despair'.42 In Hare's wake came Ambassador Bowker, whose task was also to give the Governor 'a clearer idea of the Turkish Government's obduracy'. The FieldMarshal was more likely to be impressed by a senior diplomat than a rising young politician. But if Bowker succeeded in drumming home to Harding that no liberties could be taken with Turkish susceptibilities, so Harding forcefully outlined his own underlying reality that there could be no genuine pacification in the island unless the question of Cypriot self-determination was resolved.43 It was in trying to reconcile these necessities that the two men picked up again on the partition theme. Significantly, in doing so Harding did not shift from his view that partition would be disastrous for Cyprus 'from the practical point of view'—that is, if it was ever implemented. But he did become enamoured of the possibility that such a bait might give the Turks 'a possible inducement... to play on a constitution', and in so doing open the way for an experiment based on Radcliffe's imminent recommendations.44 The Field-Marshal's willingness to move gingerly down a path which he recognized to be a 'counsel of despair' in the hope that it might clear away the prime obstacle to the 'placation' of Greek-Cypriot aspirations was a measure of his eagerness for a solution, but also an example of his tendency to contradiction. By October 1956 partition was emerging, still rather obscurely, and by a very contorted logic, as the point of intersection between the Turkish imperatives of British Middle Eastern policy and the sine qua iwn of self-determination for the pacification of Cyprus. Such future contingencies apart, on the eve of'Operation Musketeer' British policymaking about Cyprus went into yet another phase of complete limbo. Lennox-Boyd told Harding that there was no chance of Radcliffe's report, which was now in 41 42 41 44

Young to Stewart, 19 Oct. 1936, FO371 /123931, RG1081 /2226. Harding to Lennox-Boyd, r6Oct. 1956, PREMi 1/1756. Harding to Lennox-Boyd, 30 Oct. 1956, €0926/552. Bowker to Foreign Office, 6 Nov. 1956, FOj7i /123934, RGi 081 ^346.


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Her Majesty's Government's possession, being published for at least a month. This led the Governor to describe himself as 'disappointed and somewhat dismayed'.45 In mid- and late October British ministers were also having to fend off pressure for movement over Cyprus from another quarter. Extremely concerned about the rising tension throughout much of the Mediterranean region, the Administration in Washington had overcome its hesitations, and decided to take action on its own behalf. Julius Holmes, President Eisenhower's Special Assistant on NATO Affairs—an official with considerable Mediterranean experience going back to the Second World War, and who had for some time been arguing that Cyprus provided a fortuitous opportunity for NATO to develop its powers as an arbitrator—was sent to explore the outlines of a deal in the various capitals. Arriving first in London, Holmes got little joy. Eden pronounced himself as 'bewildered' by American interference, and refused to see the President's envoy.46 Instead he was granted an interview with Lennox-Boyd and Selwyn Lloyd. The door of 10 Downing Street was still closed to him when, having gone in the interval to Athens, he returned and tried again. Nor did he have much more luck when he went to Ankara on 27 October. Holmes was kept waiting for several days—mostly spent playing golf on the arid and bumpy fairways of the Turkish capital—before Menderes finally agreed to see him.47 By then news was arriving that British and French troops, with Turkish approval, were descending on Egypt. This abortive initiative proved, in fact, the only direct and unilateral intervention in Cypriot affairs by the United States during the Emergency. The picture of President Eisenhower's chief NATO aide being kept at such arm's length by supposed allies adds a fresh sidelight on why it was, with regard to the larger matter of the Anglo-French invasion of Egypt, that the reaction in the White House was even more acerbic than in other sections of the Washington establishment. The first inkling in Washington that a major British military operation in the eastern Mediterranean was under way came from Pentagon intelligence of the build-up of activity around Cyprus. On the night of 31 October Canberra and Valiant bombers left southward in waves from Nicosia and Akrotiri airfields to drop their bombs on the ground establishments of the Egyptian Air Force. Since the planners of 'Musketeer' feared that if some of Egypt's Russian-piloted MiGs got airborne, their first target would be British installations in Cyprus,48 it was probably as well for many Cypriots, irrespective of their political sympathies, that these strikes succeeded. The constant droning of the aircraft overhead kept virtually everybody in southern Cyprus awake that night—Grivas himself, hidden away near Limassol, cannot have been oblivious to the noise. Consul Courtney remarked that the display of aerial power made a 'forcible impression' on the general public.49 It was precisely on such 45 46 47 48 49

Harding to Lennox-Boyd, 25 Oct. 1956,00926/344. Nutting, minute, 18 Oct. 1956^0371/123937^61081/2409. Bowker to D. P. Reilly, 6Nov. i9s6,FO37i/i23935,RGio8i/2349. Keith Kyle, The Suez Crisis (London, 1991), p. 169. Courtney, telegram to Dulles, 2 Nov. 1956, Box 3278, RG59, State Department Records, USNA.

15 8

27 July 1956-5 April 1957

impressions that the British Government pinned many of its hopes, since the chief psychological purpose of the Suez campaign was to assert the British determination to maintain its stake in the region. The details of the ensuing foul-ups—military and, even more, political—which brought the Suez expedition shuddering to a halt will not be repeated here. On 6 November the British Government ordered a stop to the advance of its troops down the Canal, and, reluctantly, the French followed suit. By 9 November the First Paratroop Battalion was already back in Cyprus, and Harding was able to renew the offensive in the western part of the island which had been called off on the eve of the invasion. But this was small compensation for the much larger set-back which had been suffered elsewhere. In fact it was several months before the British garrison in Cyprus was restored to anything near its pre-Suez size. Meanwhile, the Egyptian debacle was the sign for Grivas to step up EOKA's efforts; nor was there much evidence at this stage of Athenian pressure to make him hold his hand. During the first three weeks of November EOKA killed thirty-three people—the highest casualty rate of the Emergency. In a particularly bloody forty-eight hours on 14/15 November, five fatalities occurred, including two British servicemen. Douglas Williamson, the Assistant Commissioner at Platres, blown up by a parcel bomb, was the most senior Cyprus Government official to be assassinated by EOKA during the conflict. The targeting of British civilian residents—a retired expatriate was shot dead whilst repairing his car in a quiet Nicosia suburb—was a fresh development, and led to protests that insufficient protection was being afforded by the Security Forces. Some of the resulting criticism was directed at the Governor for giving a low priority to the protection of civilians. A particularly poignant casualty was Angus MacDonald, the first journalist to die in the troubles. MacDonald was a young man who had been assisting Randolph Churchill in London on his biography of Lord Derby when, like his employer, in August 1956 he moved to the scene of the gathering crisis in the Levant. Foley recruited him for the Times of Cyprus. On 16 November MacDonald went out of the office in the old part of the town for a breather, and was gunned down in an adjoining alley-way. The half-finished article left on the victim's desk appeared in the newspaper several days later. 'Those who advised the Governor in August', it ran at the interrupted point, 'to put an end to the truce by demanding surrender terms because . . . EOKA was broken, bear some responsibility for the men who have died since.'M1 Harding accepted no such responsibility. That lay exclusively with the killers. To believe anything else, in his eyes, was madness, and he detested those, like Foley, who appeared to suggest that the guilt should be shared out (though it should also be said that for Foley, the killing of MacDonald was an occasion for considerable personal heart-searching on these issues). The Governor's response to Grivas' postSuez offensive was, characteristically, to tighten the Emergency regime still further. He came to London in mid-November in part to set out his case for an extended s

" Foley, Island in Revolt (London, 1971), p. 154.

Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, i g54~i 959

159

mandatory death penalty to deter the spate of urban assassinations, a law for the immunity of public servants to counter the fresh wave of allegations of brutality by members of the Security Forces, extra curbs on the press, and a 'mass deportation' of EOKA detainees so as to lessen the mounting pressure in the overcrowded camps.51 In Whitehall these demands raised eyebrows, and led the less discreet to point out the illogicality in calling for the 'placation' of Greek-Cypriot feelings one minute, and the next propagating Draconian and arguably counter-productive methods. In particular, his assumption that civil servants simply had to read the Riot Act to a few journalists in order to get a better press led to scathing comment. Yet, his advice on these matters could not easily be passed over. The British Government refused to contemplate dumping Cypriot 'terrorists' on to Her Majesty's Prison Service (though several dozen high-security EOKA suspects had already been transferred to Wormwood Scrubs). Nevertheless, additional laws were approved which broadened the mandatory death penalty to include consorting with those in possession of arms, gave the Governor power to act against newspapers publishing material prejudicial to the security campaign, and made it not only very difficult to institute a private prosecution against a public servant, but potentially costly, since those instigating such a process were to be liable to prosecution themselves if the original charges were not sustained. In the subtly changed moral perspective brought about by the roller-coaster of the Suez crisis, however, metropolitan opinion started to react more critically to repressive colonial legislation of this sort. Suddenly it jarred in a new way. Harding's action in using the new press law to prosecute Foley was undoubtedly an error, because Fleet Street—where Foley had many friends, having, ironically, once been Foreign News Editor of the arch-imperialist Daily Express—immediately rallied to the cause of press freedom. In the event Foley was acquitted, but not before The Times in London published an article on 29 November entitled 'The Heavy Hand' in which it was remarked that the tougher regulations in Cyprus 'were not to be excused as a reply to the ruthlessness of EOKA'. Matters were not helped by the appearances which Harding made on radio and television while in Britain. Interviewed on the BBC, he said in a reply to a question as to whether he had yet found any Cypriots willing to talk to him, 'I am not really looking for anyone to negotiate with in present circumstances.' Whereas before this might have passed unnoticed, now it hit a wrong note. More ill advised was the Field-Marshal's defence of the revamped mandatory death penalty on the BBC's 'Home and Abroad' current affairs programme. This exchange went as follows: QUESTION. Do you mean that a youth of 17 who is carrying arms should be treated in the same way as a man who has used arms? ANSWER. Who is to stop a youth of 17 from carrying arms? His mother. And what better support for his mother in stopping him than to make the penalty for this wretched business as severe as it can be. 51

See material on the problems of the detention camps in 01)926/343.

160

27 July 195^-5 April 7957

Harding was, in a way, the victim of his own forthright honesty in refusing to dissimulate the blunt reasoning behind his own security policies. Nevertheless, the deep water into which Her Majesty's Government was being drawn was illustrated when the Cyprus regulations were debated in the House of Lords on 6 December, where legal peers were bound to cast a keenly critical eye on them.52 On this occasion the Government spokesman, Lord Lloyd, found himself confronted with the considerable forensic expertise of Earl Jowitt who, as Attorney-General in Attlee's Labour Government, had strongly opposed the execution of Jewish terrorists in Palestine. His remarks on this occasion were all the more cutting for having been prefaced by the observation that he knew absolutely nothing about Cyprus, and would never have dreamed about intervening on the subject, had he not listened to Harding on the radio a few days before. He took issue with the 'utterly fallacious' proposition put forward by the Governor that the more severely certain crimes were punished, the less likely they were to occur. This was an argument, he said, which invariably led to the last state being worse than the first. The peer acknowledged that Harding was doing a difficult job, and that he should have all the powers he reasonably required; but he confessed that the fact that the Governor had asked for, and been granted, powers which were 'the most Draconian I ever recall', filled him with grave anxiety. So long as attacks on Government policy remained at this level of generality their rhetorical effects were rarely lasting. What hurt was when they began to nail down the details. Jowitt now proceeded to do this with regard to the provision for mandatory capital sentencing which, he icily observed, 'bears this stamped upon its face: that the Executive has lost faith in its judges'. His most caustic words, however, concerned the looseness of the wording, which appeared to bring within the scope of the legislation even persons who happened to be found in the company of a poacher. In truth, the law had been drafted in Nicosia, and the Colonial Office had refrained from insisting on amendment for fear of antagonizing the already sensitive Governor. Whatever the reason may have been, in answering Jowitt's points Lloyd was ill at ease and even maladroit. He repeatedly fell back lamely on the argument that in any legal document there was always a vital difference between the drafting and the intention. He admitted that he was 'not going to pretend' that the drafting of the clauses in this case was perfect, and gave an assurance that he and his colleagues would 'have a look at them', but rested his argument on the necessity to lift from the shoulders of the judiciary an agonizing decision relating to crimes 'which, in our view, amounted in the present circumstances to murder or attempted murder'. 'All I would say', Lloyd added before sitting down, 'is that anyone who is carrying a bomb in Cyprus at the moment is not doing so for fun.' Not only did Lloyd's jejune treatment strike an inappropriate chord, but the fact that on a matter involving life and death, legislation had been approved on such an unsatisfactory basis, created an impression of policy being dangerously improvised as ministers went along. The debate itself, like all " Sec Parliamentary Debates (Lords.), / 956-7, vol. 200,6 Dec. 1956, cols. 813-39.


161

those on Cyprus, came and went without any practical consequences, but it conveyed a new ethical and political sensitivity as British politics entered a post-Suez world in which many of the older certainties and benchmarks had foundered. Earl Jowitt's observation during the Lords debate described above that, in the FieldMarshal's public statements, the emphasis usually seemed to be that of 'the commander carrying on a campaign, not of a Governor trying to bring peace to his disturbed island' drew political blood.5' Yet it was only half—the public half—of the truth. The more private Harding was increasingly impatient for a political breakthrough to lighten his task. The only hope for this lay in the success of the Radcliffe mission, and one additional reason for the Governor's visit to London was to insist that Radcliffe's recommendations be published and acted upon without further delay. Before appearing in London, furthermore, he afforded the British cabinet a trenchant analysis of the Cypriot situation. The publication of the Commissioner's report, might, Harding stated, prove a turning-point away from fear and tyranny in the colony; but equally it might be just one more fruitless effort.54 The outcome hinged on whether publication of its contents was tied to a comprehensive statement about the long-term future 'in terms which leave no room for misunderstanding, misinterpretation or suspicion'. Yet even such a crystal-clear statement on these lines was not enough. The complexities of the problem also meant that such variables as the 'contingency' of partition, the views of Greece and Turkey, some means of involving Archbishop Makarios in a settlement and the terms of his release, and an amnesty for EOKA, had all to be simultaneously brought into the equation. If action over Radcliffe was taken in isolation from all these factors, he warned, the effect would be to make things worse, not better, since the very failure to resolve uncertainty would intensify rivalry not only between the British and the Greeks, but between the Greeks and the Turks. If the opportunity provided by Radcliffe was allowed to slip by, Harding powerfully concluded: it would be unwise to assume that it will be possible to [resume conciliation] at some later date . . . The sands of goodwill and cooperation between the Government and people of Cyprus are running out. Already the younger generation of Greek-Cypriots are poisoned and embittered. It can only be a question of time before the readiness of the older people to acquiesce in the continuation of the British connection is permanently impaired. The longer the present troubles continue, the greater is the risk of our reaching a point of no return in our relations with the Greek-Cypriot people as a whole.55

We should at this point review some of the details of the Radcliffe Report which was lying uneasily on ministerial desks in Whitehall, and which represented the only slender hope of halting the evaporation of goodwill to which Harding referred.56 The 53

Ibid. col. 826. 'Cyprus Policy: Note by the Governor', 23 Nov. 1956, 00926/553. " Ibid. 56 Constitutional Proposals for Cyprus: Report Submitted to the Secretary of State for Colonies, Cmd. 42, HMSO, 1956. 54

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apparently disarming introduction was, in fact, crucial. Radcliffe emphasized that his task as Commissioner had not been to invent some formula capable of bringing peace to a disaffected colony. His brief had been simply to propose the bases of constitutional development in Cyprus after law and order had been restored, and on the basis of continuing British sovereignty. This implicitly reflected the conviction which Harding had himself impressed on Radcliffe in Nicosia that without the 'missing factor' of self-determination, no constitutional initiative in the island could hope to succeed. In other words—though any 'lay' reader would not easily have seen the point—the report itself confessed to a gaping hole in the middle which would eventually have to be filled in one way or another. Beyond this there were two main practical themes in the body of Radcliffe's recommendations. The first concerned the distribution of powers between the British administration as represented by the Governor, and a restored Legislative Assembly. To solve this conundrum the Commissioner resorted to the old imperial device of dyarchy—that is, splitting the exercise of powers into two parts, one to be retained by the colonial power, the other to be devolved into local hands. Since the assumption of the report was continuing British sovereignty, however, the form of dyarchy which was recommended was one which would allow the British executive to function regardless of the opposition of elected representatives. As Crou/et stresses in his account, the design was not that of a democratic polity, or even a genuine form of autonomy, but a colonial constitution of a distinctively old-fashioned kind." 'Not fit for Zulus' afterwards became a tag in Greek-Cypriot circles, and it was at least true that there were already several constitutions in British Africa of a more advanced kind than this. The other thread running through the report was the protection of minority rights. Radcliffe explicitly rejected the claim of the Muslim community for coequality with the Greek majority, just as he was said to be hostile to a partition of Cyprus (Radcliffe, also as a special Commissioner, had been responsible for delimiting the partitioned borders of the Punjab and Bengal in 1947, during the course of which much bloodshed had occurred, so he appreciated very well why partition was a 'counsel of despair'). Nevertheless, the extensive powers and status which were provisionally held out by Radcliffe to the Cypriot Muslims presaged a separate Turkish sphere cut out from the overarching Greek pattern. In the Legislative Assembly Turkish votes and those of the Governor's nominated representatives were to enjoy a plurality over Greeks. To anyone who knew anything of recent Cypriot history, this was not to look forward, but back to the period prior to 1931. Overall, it is hard to disagree with Crouzet that if colonial rule had not already been challenged, if violence had not been in full flow, and if ethnic tension had not already been aroused, these proposals might have provided a basis for a solution; what they could not do on their own—and what Radcliffe implicitly admitted they could not do—was effect a compromise in the triangular battle between imperial, national, and racial passions which by the autumn of 1956 had Cyprus in their grip.'8 57

Crou/ct, Conjlil tie Cltypn; ii. 881-2.

5S

Ibid. 883.


163

Despite these limitations, even the publication, let alone the acceptance of Radcliffe's proposals, held risks for the beleaguered Conservative Government. As soon as rumours circulated that the report had been completed, demands that it be suppressed started to come in from Ankara, where Radcliffe was feared as the start of a slippery slope to Enosis; and, as the Foreign Office noted, it was 'a safe assumption... that our dependence on Turkish goodwill and cooperation will have increased rather than diminished as a result of the Suez imbroglio'. In the powerful and confused backwash of Suez, whipped up as it was by emotions of humiliation, failure, and betrayal, any suggestion of adding yet a further British climbdown was bound to be highly controversial at home. On the other hand, as Lennox-Boyd admitted, any straight suppression of the report was 'impracticable, if only because Lord Radcliffe would himself refuse to agree to it' (that the Colonial Secretary would have liked to suppress it was transparent).59 On 13 November Lennox-Boyd made a 'holding' statement in the House of Commons that the report would be published 'in due course'.60 This did not sound at all urgent, and the United States Ambassador visited the Foreign Office the same day to renew his Government's complaint that the British Cabinet 'had not put its mind to the Cyprus problem'.61 Kirkpatrick was, after recent events, in no position to upbraid Ambassador Aldrych as he had done in the past, and instead assured him that 'they [the Cabinet] meant to do so without delay'. The disappearance of Eden for recuperation in Jamaica on 23 November, leaving behind him a swirl of rumours that he would never return in an official capacity, helped in some degree to make this possible. When the United Kingdom's Permanent Representative returned to London at the beginning of December, he formed the impression that ministers, under the temporary leadership of R. A. Butler pending a leadership contest, were 'longing for a proper way out of this [Cypriot] mess'.62 It was in order to find a 'proper way' through this maze of dilemmas that LennoxBoyd (whose own associations with the right-wing of his party came close to the surface at this stage) latched on to the theme of partition. He did so, however, not as a 'contingency' to coax Turkey into an acceptance of constitutional progress as Harding wished, but as a threat to force the Greeks and Greek-Cypriots 'to reconsider the merits of the status quo'.63 This difference was obviously fundamental. When Lennox-Boyd put his ideas in draft form to the Cabinet's Colonial Policy Committee on 3 December, one ministerial colleague, indeed, retorted that from a GreekCypriot vantage-point the wording proposed by Lennox-Boyd was 'even worse . . . than Her Majesty's Government's previous announcements, because it hints at partition without stating anything definite about self-determination' (almost the exact 59

Young, minute, 7 Nov. 1956, FO37I/123935^01081/2362. Parliamentary Debates (Commons), 1956-7, vol. 560,13 Nov. 1956, cols. 754-5. 61 Aldrich, telegram to Dulles, 13 Nov. 1956, Box 3278, RGs9, State Department Records, USNA. 62 Steel to Hood, 4 Jan. i957,FO37i/i3oi37,RGCi072/2. 63 'Cyprus: Memorandum by Mr Lennox-Boyd for Cyprus Policy Committee', CAB 129/821, CA(56)33. 60

l6

4

27 July 1956-5 April 7957

opposite of what the Governor had in mind)/'4 Furthermore, it was pointed out, playing with partition in this way risked 'a serious deterioration in Anglo-Greek or Anglo-Turkish relations or hoth'—that is, falling out badly with both communities, and ending up in that most nightmarish of decolonizations, one in which the British were attacked from all sides, as had happened in Palestine only a few years before. When the issue was raised again in Cabinet on 11 December, the same doubts were raised that 'the Island might eventually be partitioned against the wishes of the majority of the inhabitants'/' 5 In the interval, however, the pressure from both Washington and NATO to make some move over Cyprus had been stepped up, and the Foreign Office entered the fray to stress that a parliamentary statement had to be made before the Christmas recess intervened/' 6 Not for the first time the tactical necessities of a parliamentary timetable led to the rushing of a crucial statement on the future of Cyprus. In fact this served the purposes of Lennox-Boyd, who offered to leave immediately for talks in Athens and Ankara, promising that in these exchanges he would make no definite commitments on partition but 'represent the policy set out in the proposed statement as merely the lines on which the [British] were at present thinking'/' 7 On this rather fragile basis the Colonial Secretary went away to prepare for his travels, with a view to making a new announcement in the House of Commons on Wednesday, 19 December. In leaving for Athens on 13 December, Lennox-Boyd harboured no illusions that the Greek Government would unreservedly accept the Radcliffe formula. After arrival he did not even ask them to do so, merely pressing on Karamanlis at their meeting that he avoid any rigid position on the subject. Radcliffe's report, he said, was as liberal a document as the British Government could put forward in the circumstances/'8 As for JVIakarios, a topic which could hardly be ignored, the Colonial Secretary assured the Greek leader and Foreign Minister Averoff that a Colonial Office official and an interpreter were already on their way to the Seychelles, and that the Archbishop would at the appropriate moment be shown a copy of the report and given an opportunity to express his views on it. At the same time Lennox-Boyd made it clear that there was no possibility of any negotiation being involved in this 'consultation', and he ended threateningly (in an echo of the Harding-Makarios exchanges of old) by saying that the present was the 'last chance' to settle the Cyprus problem amicably. Prime Minister Karamanlis, in replying, passed over Radcliffe more or less entirely. \Vhat he wanted to know was if these constitutional recommendations were the whole story of the impending statement in Parliament, or whether (as the Greeks M

Minutes of Cyprus Policy Committee, 4 Jan. 1957,1^0371/123940,1101072/2476. '" Cyprus: Cabinet Conclusions on Plan for a Constitutional Settlement, u Dec. 1956, CAB 128/30/2, CM99(s6)i. '''' 'Cyprus: Cabinet Conclusions on Plan for a Constitutional Settlement, 12 Dec. 1956, CAB 128/30/2, CM99(5f>)2. f7 ' Ibid. '"s Record of Conversation between the Greek Prime Minister and Colonial Secretary in Athens, 14 Dec. 1956, CO(_)26/353.


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suspected) there was some other ingredient to be added to the recipe. Only then did Lennox-Boyd give him the full gist of the proposed declaration 'which, he said, would put it [Radcliffe] in its political framework', including partition as an option in the event of the application of self-determination. For Greek ministers, whatever possibilities might have crossed Averoff's mind during his early days in office, partition now could only mean political extinction. In bringing these talks to an acrimonious end, therefore, the British and the Greeks did what they always did when tempers frayed—they argued about Makarios. After Lennox-Boyd claimed yet again to have 'irrefutable proof that the Archbishop was involved in EOKA's violence, Karamanlis acidly commented that he was 'doubtful whether the Archbishop had any connection with terrorism'. 'It appeared from the discussion that on the questions of Archbishop Makarios and of self-determination', Karamanlis concluded, 'the views of HMG were far removed from those . . . of the Greek Government,' leaving the British minister to depart with the prediction that the alternative was 'very grim and grave. It could only be the maintenance of military government.'69 In the midst of these exchanges, relations were not helped when LennoxBoyd—seeking to exploit every possible leverage—tried to get access to King Paul in order to persuade him to exert influence over his Prime Minister, only to find that Karamanlis vetoed any royal audience being given to the visiting statesman. As the British Embassy observed, this episode marked a further erosion of the monarchy's capacity to act as a 'power for stabilization' in Greek politics.70 In the Foreign Office the Greek approach during this sequence was immediately afterwards castigated as 'ungracious and ungenerous and very stupid'.71 The British side sincerely felt that they had made substantial concessions to the Greek case. Lennox-Boyd had not pressed for an unqualified expression of approval for the British statement. A liberal, self-governing constitution, of a sort, was foreshadowed. Even Makarios was to be brought back into a corner of the picture. The Greek perception, however, was very different. Their full agreement was not asked for, they felt, because the British did not greatly care whether they had it or not. The Radcliffe recommendations begged all the vital constitutional and political questions. As a close British observer of Greek politics observed, this first official contact between the two Governments over Cyprus since Makarios' deportation symbolized the mental gulf between them, with the British proffering gifts they expected to be gratefully received, and the Greeks revolting at being taken for granted one moment and bullied the next.72 For Lennox-Boyd and his delegation, which included a bevy of Foreign and Colonial Office officials, the stopover in Athens was merely a prelude to the main business in Ankara. The latter constituted what was summed up afterwards as 'an important chapter in the Cyprus Question'.73 The Colonial Secretary assured Menderes when 69 71 72 73

70 Ibid. J.Mackenzie to T.Lloyd, 28 Dec. 1956^0371/123942^01081/2571. Young to Roberts, 17 Dec. 1956, FO37i/i2394i, 1161081/2509. Leslie Finer, Times of Cyprus (31 Dec. 1956). Galsworthy, 4Jan. 1957^0371/123942^01081/2571.

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they met on 16 December that Britain 'had no intention of betraying' the Muslims in the colony. In presenting the Radcliffe report, he did so in minimalist ways—stressing that it involved no change of sovereignty, and that at every turn it was qualified byreservations and safeguards. Like Karamanlis, however, what the Turkish leader really wanted to know about was the wider 'political framework' to be unveiled in the British parliament in three days' time. In expatiating on this, Lcnnox-Boyd stated that he would 'bear in mind any comments made by the Turkish Government, between now and Wednesday [the igth], or in the period between the statement on Wednesday and the preparation of the legal safeguards [in the constitution]'.74 This came very close to asking Menderes to name his own price for cooperation, and went beyond the assurance the Colonial Secretary had given his more doubtful ministerial colleagues before leaving London. Indeed, Lennox-Boyd said he was quite prepared to go back to London and ask the Cabinet that 'it [partition] should be put in a more positive way, and he fully understood the [Turkish ] Prime Minister's wish that this should be so'.75 When Menderes responded by demanding that the British Government abandon the 'academic exercise' of the Radcliffe constitution and move straight to partition, the Colonial Secretary said that Radcliffe could not be thrown over in London 'at this stage'—a striking qualification. 76 Although Menderes for a while persisted in his preference for a quick-fix partition—'we have done this sort of thing before', he told Lennox-Boyd, 'and you will see that it is not as bad as all that'— he eventually came round to the alternative of a more positive wording on partition in the hypothetical contingency of self-determination. With this the Colonial Secretary returned to London in the unlikely role of a Turkish messenger. On his arrival, Sir Norman Brook, the Cabinet Secretary, was immediately set to work on a new phraseology on partition. The result was a declaration 'that the exercise of self-determination in such a mixed community [as Cyprus] must include partition among the eventual options'. Whilst not quite as 'positive' as Menderes had indicated, it was felt in Whitehall that this embodied 'the essence of what the Turks want'—the guarantee of a physical stake in the island should the status quo ever be altered. In presenting this to the full Cabinet on 17 December, Lennox-Boyd pointed out that it would meet not only the Turkish desiderata but that it was 'also likely to be acceptable to the Government's supporters in the House of Commons'.77 In some ministerial quarters anxiety about this approach continued to be felt. Lennox-Boyd had gone to Ankara saying he would not tie British hands over partition, and had returned clearly compromised to some degree. Several colleagues felt that the impression created that Cypriot self-determination was to be entirely a matter of British convenience would be highly damaging, while the view was also aired that pushing partition forward in this way would reduce the incentive of local • 4 Record of Conversation between the Turkish Prime Minister and the Colonial Secretary in Ankara, 16 Dec. 1956, COQ26/353. 75 Ibid. ~" Lcnnox-Boyd to Selwyn Lloyd, 17 Dec. 1956, 0^0926/254. " Cyprus: Cabinet Conclusions on a Plan for Constitutional Settlement, CAB 128/30/2, CM 102(56) i.


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Cypriot communities to work together. But Lennox-Boyd's trump card against these hesitations was the sheer necessity to get up in the House of Commons on Wednesday afternoon and say something about Cyprus. Brook's suggested wording was the only one guaranteed not to be rejected in Ankara, or to cause unhappiness on the Government's own benches. This was, therefore, with a bit of tinkering, what was said by the Colonial Secretary in the House of Commons on the afternoon of 19 December.78 In this way the genie of partition was finally eased out of its Cypriot bottle. Subsidiary to this crucial development, but revealing in its own way, was the episode in which Archbishop Makarios was simultaneously apprised of—if not really consulted about—the Radcliffe recommendations. Before relating this, however, we must pause to glimpse something of Archbishop Makarios' life in his Indian Ocean detention. The very colonial English couple who had been put in charge of the Cypriot 'guests' in the residence of Sans Souci, Captain and Mrs Le Geyt, have left a memoir of their experience.79 Although at first taken aback at the 'ancient and oriental appearance' of the Orthodox ecclesiastics, Makarios' courtesy and cheerfulness made an immediate impact on them. Life in the residence was frugal but adequate. A certain pettiness showed in the treatment of Makarios and his companions, though not by the Le Geyts. One of the few, scarcely insupportable, privations of the Greek inmates other than the loss of their freedom was the absence of olive oil in the diet. A request that this commodity might be supplied from Cyprus was nonetheless refused.80 When the Captain asked for the provision of croquet equipment to provide much needed exercise for his charges, especially the overweight Bishop of Kyrenia, this, too, was denied. Such small-mindedness came as much from official nervousness as from any spite. It was the same nervousness which at first meant that the perimeter of Sans Souci was patrolled by guards with machine guns and the ubiquitous tracker-dogs from Kenya.81 Such apprehensions were explained by the great embarrassment already caused by the escapes of leading EOKA suspects from custody in Cyprus, and concern that an attempt to rescue the Archbishop might be launched from within the Greek community in East Africa; officials in Athens could not resist some fun at British expense by occasionally spreading rumours that such an event was in the offing.82 But there was no real possibility that the Primate of a great eastern Church was going to leap the walls of his verdant prison, and before long the atmosphere surrounding Sans Souci became less 78

Parliamentary Debates (Commons), 1955-6, vol. 562,19 Dec. 1956, cols. 1268-78. Captain Le Geyt, Makarios in Exile (Nicosia, 1961). The Official Secrets Act was employed to block the publication of this memoir, which gave a relatively favourable view of its subject, in the United Kingdom. See the material in CO926/1109. 80 Harding, telegram to Lennox-Boyd, 25 Apr. 1956, FO37I/I23886, RGio8i/830. Harding's explanation was that the provision of food packages from Cyprus would require 'careful scrutiny' when the resources of the Security Forces were already fully stretched. 81 A stock of 30 brens, 15,000 rounds of ammunition, and 30 rockets were stored at Mombasa to be drawn upon at request by the Seychelles Police Force. See material in WO276/2I (War Office files). 82 For British fears about such a potential escapade see FO371 /123891, RG1081 /1oio and /1o11. 79

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strained. The 'guests' were allowed to go for walks outside the grounds, and local clergy, usually the Anglican Archdeacon and the local Roman Catholic Bishop, were let in to have tea, where the discussion was inevitably theological—matters on which hair-splitting Orthodoxy invariably prevailed over Anglican pedestrianism, if not over Roman obstinacy. The Archbishop received English lessons, and although they vvere interrupted when the hired teacher, aghast at the revelations of Grivas' diaries, felt he could go on no longer, Mrs Le Geyt filled the gap. All these innocent activities made a strange contrast with the darkness of a distant terrorism, and Captain Le Geyt captured this when he recalled his difficulty in understanding 'why a man | Archbishop Makarios j with such a sporting nature has not condemned the unsporting tactics of the EOKA terrorists'.83 Whatever the true answer to the Captain's psychological puzzle, as Makarios' sojourn in Sans Souci went on, he was not totally carefree. At times he seemed pale; he was examined for an ulcer, although nothing was found; increasingly he preferred his own company.84 Mis anxieties can only be guessed at, since, unlike Grivas, he did not attempt to keep a diary. At first, exile, though hardly desirable in itself, undoubtedly had some compensations for Makarios. It put the onus on other people, and provided space for reflection. He could be heartened as it became obvious that, far from destroying his reputation with his own countrymen, exile only served to confirm his status as the leader of the Greek-Cypriot people. At the same time, his biographer, Stanley Mayes, points out that he must have been very conscious that one of his predecessors as Bishop of Kitium, exiled in 1931, had died before being allowed to go home. Above all, the longer time went on, the more violence took hold in Cyprus, and the more rudderless the Greek community became, the more difficult it was bound to be for him at some future point to pick up the pieces. Above all, he could see how, step by step, Turkey was being drawn into 'the centre of the picture'. Yet profoundly though the Archbishop wished to be released from detention, he could not afford to be let out on British terms. In any departure, he must go—and be seen to go— entirely as his own man. Greek 'face' and British 'prestige' were, as always, pitted against each other in this mental struggle. During his statement to the House of Commons on ig December 1956, the Colonial Secretary announced that an official, Derek Pearson, accompanied by a Greek interpreter, had just arrived in the Seychelles to make contact with the Archbishop (they had travelled to their destination incognito on a cruise liner, though in a sequence sardonically likened by the Times of Cyprus to a 'film thriller', their 'cover' was blown when they insisted on reading their briefing documents on the leisure deck of the vessel).83 As the representatives from London finally entered the dining-room of Sans Souci on 20 December and bent to receive the formal benediction of the Archbishop, the occasion must have exuded a subtle irony. The observation made in the Foreign Office that Pearson and his companion, S1 s;;

Quoted in Stanley Mayes, Makarios. A Biography (London, 1981), p. 88. Times of Cyprus (22 Dec. n)56).

S4

Ibid.


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Criton Tornaritis (a former Attorney-General of Cyprus) 'were not given a very easy hand to play' whilst in the Seychelles, whereas Makarios' was 'full of trumps',86 typified the British sense of fragility whenever they tried to deal directly with the Archbishop. The analysis was accurate in so far as the hands of the two visitors were almost completely tied by their strict instructions not to enter into any negotiations with Makarios (Lennox-Boyd had emphasized this limitation in speaking to the House of Commons). The two visitors, therefore, had nothing in effect to give the Archbishop, whereas the Archbishop did have something—an encouraging word about Radcliffe, if not an outright denunciation of violence—that they wanted from him. Two days before Christmas, Makarios let drop to Pearson that he was 'willing to bargain some sort of pacifying action against the promise of a change of venue', but retreated into his shell once he saw that the emissary was not empowered to make a commitment of any sort. On 9 January Pearson and Tornaritis received instructions from the British Cabinet to leave 'by the next boat'.87 In essence, their mission had been just as 'academic' as Lord Radcliffe's more wide-ranging constitutional endeavours. By the time the next boat arrived five days later, the Radcliffe initiative had become irretrievably bogged down—rejected in Athens, damned with the faintest of praises in Ankara, and with 'scarcely perceptible support' emanating from Washington. This reconstruction of events in the final days and weeks of 1956, fateful as they were for the subsequent history of Cyprus, throw light on the political process at work on the British side. Harding had once more pressed for a political move by Her Majesty's Government to assist the pacification of Cyprus. Events had finally forced the Cabinet's hand, but the shape this initiative took was a very long way from Harding's seminal call for a statement 'which leaves no room for misunderstanding, misinterpretation or suspicion'. As some ministers had warned, the airing of partition, even in contingent form, increased the scope for misunderstanding all round. Rising Turkish disenchantment was linked to Ankara's belief in the wake of the 19 December statement that they had been deceived. Zorlu's claim that Lennox-Boyd had given him a personal promise that partition was 'round the corner', indeed, distinctly embarrassed the Colonial Secretary among his colleagues, and he regretted having allowed their talks to be conducted entirely in English, without the precise clarification afforded by an interpreter. It is impossible to be sure where the truth lies in this. It was part of the Turkish technique over Cyprus to assert that cast-iron guarantees had been made to them, only to be subsequently reneged upon. At the same time, the record of the talks in Ankara suggest that the Colonial Secretary went a long way to ingratiate himself with his hosts. What is sure is that by early 1957 the British were in danger of falling into the trap some had forecast—that of alienating the Turks whilst still fighting with the Greeks. Nor had the abortive climax of the Radcliffe exercise resulted in any improvement 86 8/

W. Hayter, minute, 6 Feb. 1956, FO3717130070, RGiois/3i. Young, minute, 9Jan. 1957^0371/130070^01015/17.

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27 July 1956-5 April 1957

of Anglo-American understanding over Cyprus. The furthest the Eisenhower Administration would go in welcoming the report was to express a 'sympathetic interest', coded language which Whitehall felt fatally prejudiced the enterprise. Meanwhile, American anxieties about the rebarbative effects of British policy were sharpened by the advent of the partition option. If the British official mind, wizened by hard imperial experience, regarded partition as a resort which, whatever its imperfections, was quite legitimately open to powers burdened with the responsibility of governing plural and divided societies, American officialdom looked askance at decisions which were likely to create a legacy of regional instability open to exploitation by the enemies of the West. In this vein the prominent British role in the partitioning of Indo-China during 1954, which yielded the north of that country to the Communist regime led by Ho Chi Minh, had angered Dulles. Such suspicions and impatience were reflected in the comment ('Good grief) scribbled on the telegram which first disclosed that the British seemed to be thinking of partitioning Cyprus.88 By late 1956 one of the priorities of the Eisenhower Administration was to ensure that America's allies settled their differences in accordance with broad alliance interests, and a Resolution was passed at the NATO Council in Paris on T6 December to this effect. Not only did the appearance of partition threaten this goal, but with another United Nations session looming there seemed to be every prospect of further diplomatic hostilities breaking out over Cyprus—the Greek Government was threatening to go 'all out' in New York to exploit their moral advantage after Suez, the British countered with the threat to publish information proving Athenian complicity in Cypriot terrorism, whilst Turkish diplomats issued chilling threats of a possible 'massacre' of Greeks in Istanbul.89 Bent on screening off NATO from such disruptions, the Eisenhower Administration pressured the Greeks, but also made no secret of their willingness to 'speak boldly to the British' if something did not happen pretty soon to clap a lid back on the Cypriot cauldron.'"1 In speaking to the British in the future, the Americans were no longer to be dealing with Eden, who on 10 January was succeeded as Prime Minister by Harold Macmillan, the latter having convincingly defeated R. A. Butler in the contest for the leadership of the Conservative Party. It was said that this outcome was affected by the belief in parts of the party that Butler had been a 'weak sister' over Suez,91 and as we have seen the latter had, albeit in his usual veiled manner, shown similar hesitations over Cyprus. When President Eisenhower heard the news of this choice, his comment was that Macmillan and Eden were, in fact, 'somewhat alike in the fact that both could not bear to see the dying of Britain as a colonial power'.92 Nevertheless, the new Prime Minister later told his official biographer that on gaining the leaderm

Aldrich, telegram to Dulles, 24 Aug. 1956, Box 3277, RG.59, State Department Records, USNA. Peake to Hayter, 13 Jan. 1957, FO37i/i30i62, RGCio72/i78i. '"' L. Dale to N. Parsons, 16 Jan. 1956, Box 3278, RGsg, State Department Records, USNA. 91 For Butler and the Sue/, crisis see A. Howard, RAB: The Life of R. A. Butler (London, 1987), PP-n330-42. Eisenhower Diary, 10 Jan. 1957, Box 8, ACW File, Papers of President Dwight D. Eisenhower, Eisenhower Library, Abilene, Kansas. SM


171

ship he 'intended to run it [the Government]... as a centre party . . . I was not prepared to run it on an extreme right-wing basis'.93 He was keenly aware from the start that to be swept along by Suez-type forces would almost certainly mean suffering the same kind of shipwreck as his predecessor. For this reason alone he was disposed to look for some way of excising the Cypriot canker facing his inevitably fragile ministry. 'It would be of immense advantage to this country', he wrote to Selwyn Lloyd, whom he retained as Foreign Secretary, 'if we could get the Cyprus question settled during the lifetime of this Parliament.'94 The principle of this time-frame for the settlement of the problem was deeply to influence events, though not necessarily in a straightforward manner. In the art of politics, however, immediate necessities are not the same thing as medium- or long-term goals, nor do they always point in the same direction. 'If you want to get upstream, you start by rowing downstream,' was a favourite maxim of Macmillan's, and one which may be said to have had a special application to certain colonial problems in the era of decolonization (the classic exponent being General de Gaulle, who first rode the wave ofAlgerie Franfaise to get back into power in France during 1958, only to sacrifice the interests of the settlers when finally ordering French withdrawal from that country). For the moment, the situation in Cyprus, and the complexion of Conservative domestic politics, remained too much in flux for any decisive or controversial decisions to be taken in early 1957. When the Archbishop of Canterbury wrote to the new Prime Minister calling on him to take a grip on Cypriot affairs, and appoint a new Governor who might prove 'a skilful and sympathetic healer of divisions',95 Macmillan sent only an evasive response. 'Pathetically naive and misguided,' a Colonial Office official remarked on Dr Fisher's plea, expressing the supercharged emotions still running through sections of British opinion in the wake of Suez. Macmillan had no intention of striking out in one direction or another until, and unless, it became transparent which of the competing currents was the more compelling. Yet if the substance of policy was as yet unchanged, there was mounting pressure to adjust its style and tone. There were two sensitive aspects of the Emergency which came to the fore in early 1957 and highlighted the pitfalls in front of the British Government. The first was the continuing Greek-Cypriot campaign to publicize and seek redress for alleged misdemeanours by members of the Security Forces. In the absence of any independent enquiry, the Nicosia Bar Council—till now the only Greek-dominated institution in Cyprus maintaining a dialogue with the colonial authorities—set up in late 1956 its own Human Rights Commission. This led to a surge of publicity, though the Commission was careful to stress that its charges concerned not the generality of the Security Forces, but a small and identifiable number of special interrogators. When the Colonial Office—increasingly of the opinion that 'there was no smoke without fire' in this area—pressed the Governor to take action 93 94 95

Alistair Home, Macmillan, 1957-1986 (London, 1989), ii. 37. Prime Minister to Foreign Secretary, 4 Feb. 1957, PREMii/iysyA. Archbishop Fisher to Prime Minister, 4 Feb. 1957, €0926/632.

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to counter the anxieties, he merely restated the existing procedure that 'if. . . complaints were made in detail, were signed by complainants and properly presented, they were carefully investigated and the members of the Security Forces were either cleared or their actions were brought home to them What he would not do was to act on general allegations or anonymous claims."'6 The problem was that complainants were quite obviously ill-placed to present their material in the shipshape manner required. Meanwhile, the well-respected Manchester Guardian reported that you only had to spend a day in a Nicosia barrister's office, observing the comings and goings of relatives with no idea where a loved one had been taken, except for rumours that so-and-so had been seen at a police station looking daxed and unhappy, to realize that something was going amiss somewhere.97 Harding believed that the allegations were smears, as many surely were. Nevertheless, the unwillingness to allow any independent investigation became increasingly embarrassing in terms of international opinion. The other controversial Emergency practice which raised acute moral and practical questions was the mandatory death penalty. This legislation had one concrete disadvantage—the condemned cells were filling up, with the grim prospect of a succession of hangings through the rest of the year (over two dozen individuals were involved). Ministers in London did not relish taking responsibility for these executions, and badgered Harding for a convincing rationale for the law which they could at least use in Parliament and other public forums to deflect criticism. 'One youth,' the Governor responded to such a request, 'aware that he was liable to the deathpenalty, declared his intention of implicating others as well, and proceeded to make a 26-page statement admitting his complicity in earlier murders and giving material which led to the arrest of many terrorists in the area. The same occurred to a lesser degree in Famagusta."'8 Yet, as Harding surely realized, this was exactly the sort of explanation which could not be used in Parliament, amounting as it did to a species of extracted confession. The fact was that if ministers in London often seemed unwilling to make Harding's task easier in the realm of political policy, Harding was not at all disposed to help them get off the hook as to its presentation. More than any other branch of Emergency policy, the implementation of capital sentences involving actual bodily harm embodied the Governor's philosophy of'no middle way', and functioned in his mind as a litmus-test of the British Government's willingness to live up to the underlying challenge to prove that it was possible physically to master the scourge of terrorism. As such, it came to mark a principal fault-line in British policy-making. This volatility was underlined by the fact that one convicted Greek, Tsaldaris, was due to be hanged on the eve of the United Nations session. Appeals poured in as usual, both inside and outside the island—including the long, ancient-looking scrolls addressed to the Governor from Cypriot villages, with their straggly peasant '"' Sinclair to Melville, 5 Jan. 1957, €0926/879. "7 Manchester Guardian (iqVeb. 1957). ''" Harding to Lennox-Boyd, 21 Dec. 1956, €0926/561.


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signatures and marks of identification. In previous capital cases during the Emergency, the authorities in London had not intervened on behalf of clemency. That such an intervention now occurred arose almost certainly because of the Government's heightened vulnerability to international criticism. Even so, great care was needed in selecting the reasons to be put to the Governor, since any mention of the United Nations was likely to meet with acute irritation. Lennox-Boyd pointed out to the Governor the 'one point of legal doubt which had previously been expressed by our counsel [in London]',99 whilst the minister promised to take personal responsibility if the commutation was followed by a rash of further killings. Tsaldaris did not hang, and this decision played a part in helping the Americans to persuade the Greek Government not to press their case in New York, and instead to accept another anodyne resolution. Nevertheless, Harding resented having his elbow jogged, and in yielding he made it plain that he did not regard it as a precedent. Since there was a queue of condemned men, it was inevitable that there was only a brief space before another capital case moved into the foreground. This concerned Evagoras Pallikarides, whose appeal against sentence of death had been dismissed at the end of February. His situation attracted a great deal of international attention since, aged 18 years, he was the youngest so far to face the gallows. Pallikarides had been apprehended in December 1955 when an Army patrol in the Troodos mountains came upon an armed EOKA group on its way to winter quarters; whereas his companions had successfully made off, Pallikarides had surrendered without resistance. After the Supreme Court decision, the usual procedures were gone through. In this instance, however, there was a further twist, since the matter got mixed up with the British Loan Agreement (part of the post-Suez reconstruction) then subject to Congressional hearings in the United States. Two prominent Democrats, Senator Javits and Representative Fulton, took up Pallikarides' plight as precisely the kind of action which habitually made the task of Britain's friends in Washington more difficult. Fulton telephoned Harding personally, and although the Governor denied using the words which Fulton repeated on the floor of Congress ('Don't let any sentiment enter into this sort of thing'), that he said something like it would have been completely in character.100 With the execution due in a few hours, a senior State Department official got through to Macmillan on the telephone late on the afternoon of the i3th. 'The Prime Minister was not at all encouraging,' it was noted. 'He said he would communicate with the officials there [in London], but that the extent to which they could interfere with the actions of the local authorities was very limited."01 Ministers knew that to intervene with the Governor again so quickly might risk triggering his resignation. The United Nations, crucially, was not in session. In the early hours of the i4th the execution took place amidst the usual din in Nicosia Central Prison.102 Later that day 99

D. Smith, minute, 11 Feb. 1957, €10926/1090. Representative Fulton to S. Elbrick (State Department), 18 Mar. 1957, Box 3279, RG$$ Chronicle (13 June 1957). 21 The Imperial War Museum Library has a number of unpublished memoirs evoking the experience of National Servicemen in Cyprus. For examples sec the Papers of A. R. Ashton and R. S. Bra/icr. 24 Seep. 141. 25 There may well also be some truth in the assertion that Milikouri was singled out for punishment because of its close connections with nearby Kykko monastery, which dominated the economic life of the 11


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One can stop any car any time and search it i.e. take off the mudguards, tyres, dashboard, everything. The commandos stopped a lorry full of sand and having torn [it]... to pieces, they told the driver to empty all the sand out to see if there was anything in it. There wasn't so they told him to shove it all on again. He refused, left the sand and drove off with an empty lorry.2fl

Such petty occurrences, multiplied many times over, inevitably had deeply alienating effects. The sum of that alienation was perhaps greater that its parts. Intense illfeeling was created by the searching of homes—the pulling down of compartments which might conceal an individual, or grubby fingers rummaging through the family trunk stuffed with items treasured more often than not for their sentimental than material value. Some of the soldiers did this work with discretion and sensitivity— clothing, for example, neatly folded exactly as it was found. Others were not so fastidious. Matters were made worse by the exaggerated rumours which flourished because of the ban on journalists entering Milikouri till near the end of the curfew. The resentment of the latter naturally fed into their reporting of the situation. When it ended, Brigadier Baker assured the press who had flooded on to the scene that 'this curfew wasn't punitive. It just happened that Milikouri was unlucky enough to be in the centre of operations.'27 Nobody, certainly had died; the Royal Engineers strove to put back up whatever had been taken down; and the village children cannot have been wholly unseduced by the generous supplies of chocolate distributed through Army largesse as the centre of operations moved on.28 The experience of Milikouri, nonetheless, added its mite to the Anglo-Cypriot divide, and the further allegations of mistreatment it had generated were later to enter into the reinforcement of the Greek Government's case at the United Nations. The unstable foundations of the Emergency, furthermore, became encapulated through the summer of 1957 in two classic themes. First, there was the question of the detention camps. It had been the prospect of the reuniting of families which afforded a special edge to that 'rapture' which seized the Greek community on the news of Makarios' release. Harding would have loved to have emptied the camps as soon as possible. They were a major security headache. But he remained adamant that the gates could only be opened as and when a genuine settlement was arrived at. Intent in the interim on ignoring the Greek chorus within the island and that of'liberal' opinion in Britain, the Governor shared the frustration of his colleagues that there seemed to be a tendency elsewhere to view the detainees as analogous to those interned in the United Kingdom during the Second World War. In truth, he stressed to London, they were men who were 'undoubtedly guilty of murder, attempted murder, incitement or conspiracy to murder', but who had not been able to be village. For the later role of the Milikouri curfew at the United Nations, see Stephen Xydis, Cyprus. Conflict and Conciliation, 1954-58 (Columbus, Ohio, 1967), pp. 318-19. 26 Lieutenant D. B. McHugh to 'Mum and Dad', 26 Apr. 1957, McHugh Papers, Imperial War Museum. 21 Times of Cyprus (10 May 1957). 28 N. Crawshaw, The Cyprus Revolt: An Account of the Struggle for Union with Greece (London, 1978), pp. 240-1.

19°


convicted 'for the deplorable reason that witnesses had been intimidated by the terrorists into refusing to give evidence'.29 Such a characterization, however, had lost much of its credibility to outsiders. One sceptic in Whitehall rather tartly observed that the alleged tendency to murderous deliquency did not square with his own experience at having to read the mail of those high-security detainees who had been moved to Wormwood Scrubs in England, since God figured in virtually all their letters 'home.311 Most discreetly damning in this respect was the recognition in the Colonial Office that should the Governor allow the press into 'Pyroi' and 'K' camps in Cyprus, it would be transparent that the occupants were 'man-in-the-street-ish' rather than hardened killers.11 Against this had to be set the fact, as one official sympathetic to the Governor put it, that his rigidity on this matter was 'an important expression of the Governor's views' which could only be relaxed as part and parcel of a political agreement. '2 This remained the nub of the matter. As it was, Harding reluctantly agreed to a slow trickle of releases, though whether these fortunate few made much of the rehabilitation classes they received to inculcate 'a less violent attitude to life', combined with an appreciation of why Cyprus was important to Britain's Middle Eastern diplomacy," can only be guessed at. Even in going this far Harding left Lennox-Boyd in no doubt that he remained adamantly opposed to 'easy and swift releases of large numbers' of detainees.'4 Yet the longer EOKA's truce went on, the more awkward such a position was to sustain. The second, by no means new, theme was that of alleged misconduct by members of the Security Forces. It was inherent in the 'very tricky phase' under way that propaganda came to the fore on both sides. Renewed Greek-Cypriot concentration on promoting such allegations was the natural counterpart to the Cyprus administration's denigration of the Archbishop. As ever, the Governor expressed his 'unshakeable intention' to support the Security Forces against the new tide of'smears'.35 Yet, the campaign in which respectable Greek lawyers figured prominently undeniably began to make headway. One compelling reason why it did so was because Government prosecutions started to go embarrassingly wrong in the courts. Specifically, judges subjected the use of confessions to close scrutiny and occasionally declared them to be 'inadmissable' owing to the circumstances surrounding their origin. This contributed to a sharp rise in the tensions which had always existed between the judges imported from the United Kingdom to staff the Special Courts and the Security Forces. One British journalist touched on an aspect of this in observing that the 'confidence of the Cypriots in the judiciary is in sharp contrast to their distrust of the Administration'. 36 This difference was in its way a tribute to British juristic 2

Harding to Lennox-Hovel, 9 Apr. 1957, 03926/871. ' A. Robertson, minute, 19 Apr. 1957. ibid. ' H. White, minute, 29 Apr. 1957, €,0926/81. " Neale, minute, i May 1957, ibid. 1 M Harding to Colonial Office, i June 1957, €0926/871. Ibid. •' I larding to Colonial Office, 7 May 1957, €0926/882. ' Nancy Crawshaw, 'Justice in Cyprus. II—The Special Courts', Manchester Guardian (2 July 1957).


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traditions under intense stress. Nevertheless, once Government prosecutions began to fail in the courts on grounds which appeared to give some credence to GreekCypriot suspicions, the whole foundation of British policy was weakened both practically and in a moral sense. A central figure here was Mr Justice Shaw, who early on in the Emergency had been severely wounded by a terrorist. The police subsequently came to believe that Shaw bent over backwards in his judgments to show that he bore no grudges." Be this as it may, it was Shaw who presided over the controversial case of Nikos Sampson, who had been arrested in late January for the murder of an English policeman. Seized in a house in Dhali, he had been taken to Nicosia Police Station, where he signed a confession. Afterwards he claimed to have been tortured, including a knive being inserted under his fingernails. What emerged during his trial was that in being transported from Dhali to Nicosia, Sampson had been forced to lie face downwards in an open truck during driving rain and only partially clothed (the movement of suspects in conditions of discomfort appears to have been a common practice during the Emergency). Although on 23 May Shaw dismissed the allegation of torture, he rejected the confession on the grounds of the 'unconscionable treatment' accorded to Sampson during his arrest—in a damaging summary the justice remarked that the handling of the accused 'was something that he had never met in his 47 years of [ judicial] experience'.38 One may reflect that had Shaw been practising in the special courts of French Algeria at that very time, the 'roughing up' of Sampson might have appeared to be small beer indeed. But he was in Cyprus, not Algeria, and upholding the scales of British colonial justice. He acquitted Sampson, who was, however, soon afterwards rearrested and this time sentenced to death for possession of a gun. Sampson was certainly no innocent at large.39 His restless and violent personality were many years later to cost Greek Cyprus dear.40 In the summer of 1957, however, his case helped foul the atmosphere in the island just as that of the more hapless Michael Karaolis had done in the fateful autumn of 1954. On no other matter, in the mean while, were relations between Whitehall and the Nicosia authorities so brittle than how to handle the Greek-Cypriot propaganda campaign. In the Colonial Office it was felt that 'it was all very well for the Governor to say that it is surely possible by assiduous briefing to prevent hostile . . . press comment', but in cases where serious allegations received some corroboration by statements from the Bench itself then 'the Governor's contention . . . just does not stand up'.41 Indeed, Harding's obstinacy in this matter was described by one official charged with Cypriot responsibilities as characteristic of his 'fantastic 37 For Shaw, see Crouzet, Conflit de Chypre, ii. 553 n, 596 n, 617, and Crawshaw, Cyprus Revolt, 188,247. 38 For a summary of the Sampson case see the Observer (24 May 1957). •w For Sampson's career as an EOKA gunman at this time see Charles Foley and W. Scobie, The Stmggle for Cyprus (Stanford, Calif., 1975), pp. 105-7,115-17. 40 Sampson was one of the organizers of the coup against President Makarios in 1974 which fatally precipitated the Turkish invasion of the island in July of that year. 41 Melville, minute, 29 May 1957,0)926/880.

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misunderstanding of the facts of life of press relations'.42 What concerned the Colonial Office most was that even well-disposed journalists who were under no illusions as to the realities of dealing with terrorism started to display uneasiness, as when Eldon Griffiths of Newsweek (later a Conservative MP) expressed anxiety that Shaw's judgment over Sampson did actually imply that mistreatment had gone beyond what had been substantiated during the trial. He was assured otherwise, but as the Colonial Office official who handled this business remarked, if'friends' now required such comforting, 'it will be seen that hostile critics could have a field day'.43 In a minute which revealed how cryptic matters were becoming, the same official concluded that given the available information 'any newspaper man in his right mind would think that the Governor had a fairly good idea that something was wrong somewhere but had not found a face-saving way of putting right what was wrong'. 44 One possible way to put things right was to allow an independent enquiry to visit Cyprus, either a British Parliamentary delegation or from an agency such as the Human Rights Sub-Commission of the European Court. This was considered by the Cyprus Policy Committee of the British Cabinet, but rejected. One reason for doing so was that it could not be discounted that some of the allegations might be found to be true. 4 ' The clinching factor, however, was almost certainly the Governor's insistence on regarding any intrusion by outsiders as 'calling into question his own administration, and even touching his own personal honour'. 46 This entry into the foreground of the matter of 'honour' suggested an acutely heightened sensitivity. Unable to announce an enquiry to disarm the Opposition in Westminster, and soften worries even on his own side of the House, Lcnnox-Boyd was left to cope as best he could at the Dispatch Box, sometimes helped by the occasional slips of Labour parliamentarians, as when a north London MP with many Cypriot constituents, Lena Jaeger, muddled the identities of Greek detainees whose complaints she was seeking to air. Where such grave matters were involved, the minister reprovingly stated, it was necessary to maintain the most scrupulous accuracy. 4 ' In early June the Cyprus Government, with Whitehall's approval, published a W'hite Paper entitled Allegations of Brutality hi Cyprus, an official denial which struck many as having been drawn up, not to meet the worries of the Greek-Cypriot public, but merely to stifle suspicions in the outside world.48 Such improvisations might be of some immediate use, but could not break up the cloud which had formed over the Emergency in Cyprus— a cloud which Archbishop Makarios sought to blacken further when on 19 July he held a press conference in Athens at which he presented 317 detailed statements by Greek-Cypriots of the ill-treatment they claimed to have received. On balance, the 42

Noakcs to Carstairs, 28 May 1957, ibid. " Noakcs, memorandum, 30 May 1957, ibid. 4l Ibid. Lennox-Hoyd to Lord Chancellor, 25 June IQ.S7, ibid. 4(1 D. Kirkham, minute, 19 June 1957, ibid. 47 For an illustration of the difficulties facing Opposition members in the House of Commons seeking to raise issues of ill-treatment see Parliamentary Debates (Commons), 1956-7, vol. 573, 15 July 1957, cols. 773-896. 48 'The White Paper: For the Overseas Market Only', Times of Cyprus (14 June 1957). 41

Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, ig54~i959

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Greeks were winning the propaganda fight on points against the British. Whether they were winning the wider political war over the future of Cyprus—just then entering a. new period of turbulence—was another matter. In announcing the Archbishop's release to Parliament, Lennox-Boyd had emphasized the prospect of future discussions unfolding gradually within NATO. This was one way of marginalizing Makarios. Harding was all in favour of that. But, for the Governor, talking about NATO was not just a means of getting over a parliamentary hurdle. On 3 April he told the American Consul, Courtney, that NATO was 'the only present hope' he saw for progress,49 most probably through the setting up of an independent Cypriot state under international guarantee—the guarantee being designed to meet Turkish fears that independence would lead straight to Enosis. Unless something along these lines was done quickly, Harding admitted, partition might well 'prove to be the result to which they were finally driven'.50 In the same vein, he shortly afterwards pleaded with the British Government 'to get it [NATO conciliation] started'.51 Otherwise, as he pointed out to ministers, EOKA would restart its military operations, possibly on a bigger scale than before the truce. It was the fear of such renewal which came to determine much of the Governor's thinking in the months ahead. The surfacing of the concept of an independent, self-standing Cyprus—one, that is, whose sovereignty was separate from Britain, Greece or Turkey, and guaranteed against future immersion into any one of them—was highly significant. First mooted by the Indian delegate at the United Nations, Krishna Menon, in February, it came to be seen as Dulles' brainchild, which was not least why Harding now latched on to it. Nevertheless, the pattern in which the Governor's calls on Her Majesty's Government for urgent action were recurrently brushed aside now repeated itself. The most obvious reason for this concerned Turkey. In releasing Makarios, the British Cabinet had presumed on Turkish tolerance, but simultaneously provided assurances to Menderes and Zorlu that it did not prejudice the understanding over partition that had been reached with Lennox-Boyd back in December.52 At first all seemed to be well. Ankara restricted itself, as we saw, to warning Karamanlis to tone down Makarios' welcome in Athens.53 Before long, however, Ambassador Bowker reported from Ankara 'a minor crisis in Anglo—Turkish relations' generated by Turkish fears that recent events had put the Greeks 'firmly back on the path of Enosis\54 Having read Governor Harding's recommendation to push on quickly with peacemaking through NATO, Bowker advised that no further liberties be taken with Turkish feelings. In the Foreign Office this was taken as decisive in the matter, so that it was concluded 'there is ... no further need to go into the other 49 50 52 51 14

Courtney, telegram to Dulles, Box 3280, RGgg, State Department Records, USNA. 51 Ibid. Harding, telegram to Colonial Office, 5 Apr. 1957, FO37i/i35i38,RGio72/36. Bowker, telegram to Selwyn Lloyd, 10 Apr. 1957, FO37I/I30095, RGCi0344/4o. Crouzet, Conflit de Chypre, ii. 950. Bowker to Selwyn Lloyd, 12 Apr. 1957, FO37I/I30095, RGCio344/43.

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6 April-j. October igsj

obstacles to any scheme for [Cypriot] independence, though these are clearly formidable'. 55 This 'minor crisis' in Anglo-Turkish relations was, in fact, the harbinger of something more serious. For months the Turkish leadership had been exhorting the British to go straight to partition. The freeing of Makarios not only convinced Ankara that time was now working against them, but that if they were going to make the most of their opportunity before it finally slipped away, they might have to act unilaterally. From early May the partitionist campaign in Turkey sharply intensified, and took on an anti-British as well as an anti-Greek colouring. For Menderes and Zorlu this had the advantage of acting as a safety-valve for the deterioration in the internal stability of their country, with inflation rising, living-standards falling, and growing discontent in the Army. But what made these circumstances even more complicated was their overlap with the emergence of Syria as a Soviet proxy, and the threat this posed on the one hand to Turkey's borders, and on the other to Western interests. The Syrian crisis was to simmer in the Middle East throughout the summer, and whilst it lasted the priority attached to keeping the Turks loyal to the Baghdad Pact became more pressing than ever in London and (what was new and perhaps even more important) in Washington. It was logical in these circumstances that it was the problem of Turkey which figured more largely than ever in the Foreign Office mind. But even in that department it was recognized that there were, indeed, other formidable obstacles which meant the Cabinet could not act as Harding wished it to. These difficulties were evoked in an analysis of the implications of any international negotiation based on the premiss of an independent Cypriot state. At a very early stage in such a scenario, it was argued, it would be seen that Britain had 'largely... lost control over the future of the island'.56 Most fundamentally of all, independence was defined as tantamount to 'handing Cyprus over to Makarios',57 since there could be no doubt who wrould be the elected leader of such a polity. The critical conclusion drawn from this was that Cypriot independence was the worst of all possible outcomes for Britain—wane even than Enosis—since at least in the latter case the United Kingdom would retain some residual influence over Athens, whereas Makarios would presumably remain an enemy. This British prejudice against an independence solution was to be a major complication in the most climactic phases of the Cyprus conflict. But it was already making itself felt in the summer of 1957, when any indication that Cyprus might be handed over to Makarios under NATO's guidance threatened to set off precisely those intra-Tory detonations which Macmillan knew to be the biggest danger to his leadership. For all these reasons Ambassador Bowker's advice that the time had arrived 'to cut the Gordian knot and reach a decision now for partition' became once again a great temptation in London.58 Macmillan records in his memoirs that on becoming " Young, minule, 12 May 1957, FO^yi/iôr^S, RGCio7i/3(>. 'fl Thompson, minute, 7 Aug. 1957, FO371/130084, RGCiojiy/â. 5S Bowkcr to Foreign Office, 9 Apr. 1957, F(>371/130138, RGCio72/38.

*' Ibid.


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premier he soon grasped that 'perhaps partition was the only way out' in Cyprus, and that he instructed the Cyprus Government to speed up the existing investigation into the modalities of such an operation.59 Yet there was another factor which underpinned the salience of partition in British thinking. This was the strategic dimension—that old Cypriot bugbear. Ever since the dimly remembered Chiefs of Staff obiter dicta of June I950,60 British policy had been predicated on the assumption that her national interests required Cyprus as a base, not a base on Cyprus. But was this still true? Harding was impatient that the British Government should indeed make up its mind as to whether this restriction held. Macmillan had his own doubts as to whether Britain's requirements in the island presently went beyond an aerodrome, or what he called 'a sort of Gibraltar';61 and he set up a committee of officials under the Cabinet Secretary, Sir Norman Brook, to investigate, on this assumption, the nature and extent of the bases in Cyprus that would be required.62 Such questioning, however, was only one fragment of a much wider review of the configuration of British defence policy touched off by the events of Suez. The Defence White Paper published on 4 April was, in Macmillan's words, 'the biggest change in military policy in normal times'.63 In fact, implementing that change—which included an upgrading of nuclear weaponry, and a downgrading of conventional commitments overseas—was to be a highly contested and partial process. Nevertheless, this burgeoning revision of Britain's requirements, including Cyprus, opened the way to partition as a practical option. When the Minister of Defence, Duncan Sandys, visited Cyprus between 25 and 28 April, it was common knowledge that, apart from discussing with Harding the timing of the medium-term rundown in the Cyprus garrison in line with the White Paper's prognostications, he was scouting out the possibilities for a quick partition involving the retention of British base areas.64 Whilst he was in the island, however, any enthusiasm Sandys had for partition was temporarily cooled by the opposition of the local British political and military establishment, though the motivations of the latter were by no means uniform. Whereas defence planners in London might be drawn to the idea that the time had come to reduce Britain's strategic stake in Cyprus, at Middle Eastern Headquarters such a view was understandably anathema. This opposition fed through to the Chiefs of Staff in London,65 and proved sufficiently resilient that the underlying strategic issues were not, in fact, to be resolved so long as the Emergency lasted. This was testimony to blockages in metropolitan decision-making on a much wider plane. Resistance to partition inside the civilian branches of the Cyprus Government, however, was rooted in other preoccupations. It remained the Government o/Cyprus, and as such was committed, according to its own lights, to all who lived there. Its reactions were also shaped by the conclusions of the accelerated study of the implementation 59

M Harold Macmilhn, Riding the Storm, 7956-7 959 (London, 1971)^.225. Seepp.2o-22. hl Crouzet,ConflitdeChypre, 11.924. Macmillan, Riding the Storm, 657. 63 w Ibid. 263. Times of Cyprus (26 Apr. 1957). 65 Robert Stephens, Cyprus, a Place of Arms: Power Politics and Ethnic Conflict in the Eastern Mediterranean (London, 1966), p. 137. 61

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of partition, to the effect that partition could only be effected bloodlessly if it was implemented gradually over a period often to fifteen years. A short, sharp partition, by contrast, could only be imposed by 'fire and sword'/'6 In drawing up, after Sandys left, a 'forces analysis' required for the various scenarios confronting British decision-makers, one of the Governor's prime purposes was therefore to disillusion ministers in London that partition constituted an easy or desirable way out of their dilemmas. It was, in fact, 'the big one', needing three Infantry Brigades plus armoured units even if it was to be conducted as part of a 'phased process'/'7 Nevertheless, the kernel of the decision which Sandys had conveyed to Harding—that within two years the British Army garrison would have to be reduced to preEmergency levels—was of the utmost significance in setting the parameters within which a solution had henceforth to be found. It had, in short, a concentrating effect, though in which direction remained open to dispute. Harding presented his military appraisal to London for guidance on the eve of the NATO Council which met in Bonn, 2-5 May. The recent handover of the SecretaryGeneralship of that organization from Lord Ismay to the experienced Belgian statesman M. Paul Henri Spaak signified not only a shift in its broad goals, but also had specific implications for NATO's handling of Cypriot matters/* Hitherto, essentially concerned with an external military threat, the organixational focus turned to the consolidation of NATO's internal cohesion, so recently threatened over Suez, and thus to political 'problem-solving' generally. Here Cyprus was the obvious current test case. Spaak's own nationality was also pertinent, since it made him sympathetic to small countries ('underdogs'), and thus to Greece rather than Turkey. Significantly, it also predisposed him to a particular solution, since, as Spaak pointed out to the United Kingdom's representative at NATO Headquarters, although the Walloons had a long history of wishing to attach themselves to France, after 1830 they had settled down to a stable life within an independent Belgian state/'*' The use of parochial Belgian history as a guide for Cypriot solutions aroused only sarcasm in London. Nevertheless, concern as to where Spaak might be heading was not eased when he informed Selwyn Lloyd over dinner in Bonn that he intended to explore a solution directly with the three interested governments, and that he wished at some point to see Archbishop Makarios. '1 told him to be extremely careful about that,' the Foreign Secretary assured Macmillan, 70 but there was no doubt that Spaak's arrival constituted a new imponderable from the vantage-point of the British Government. Had Spaak been purely a lone agent in putting forward what became his 'good offices' mission over Cyprus, he could easily have been pushed to one side by the M

' 'Cyprus Government Report on the Methods, Costs and Consequences of Partition' in 03926/1042. '" Harding, telegram to Lennox-Boyd, r May 1956, CO926/io~8. rs ' For Spaak's rather lightweight memoirs see his Coin/nits itttiflicrcs: dc l\rcenir aux deception (Paris, 1969). ''" Roberts to Havter, 27 May 1957, FO.î 7130139, RGCioyi/sy. 711 'Record of Conversation between Secretary of State and M. Spaak in Bonn, 3 May 1957', FO37I/I30138, RGCio72/48.


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British. What was most worrying, however, for London was the suspicion that he had been 'successfully nobbled by the Americans'.71 There were certainly influential elements in the Eisenhower Administration who were disappointed that the British Government had not built upon the opportunity presented by the release of Makarios. Such views were played upon even more by the rumours of a possible partition (or 'forcible vivisection', as it was pejoratively described in the State Department72) which might get the British out of a hole, but at the cost of triggering instability in the region, and possibly a Greco-Turkish war. It was fears along these lines which—for the first time since the abortive 'Holmes mission' cut short by Suez—led to a feeling in Washington that it was necessary to 'use our influence to steer this problem towards a reasonable solution'.73 Whilst Spaak was never simply the instrument of the Americans, he would certainly not have taken up his 'good offices' after the Bonn meeting had he not been fully aware that he had the support of NATO's leading power. On 2 June he dispatched to the main interested governments an official note putting forward the proposal for a statute of independence for Cyprus, citing as a precedent not only the Belgian model, but the much more recent and perhaps more apposite analogy by which an independent Austria was guaranteed by Treaty against a new Anschluss with Germany. 'Shoot this proposal down as soon as possible' was the panicky instruction from London to Ambassador Roberts at NATO Headquarters.74 The British Government's dilemmas with respect to international conciliation, and NATO intervention in particular, was indeed very acute. It was becoming clearer all the time that some such help would probably be needed to force through a solution on the various competing sides. Yet Britain's ability to control the forms which NATO (and American) action might take was also in decline. NATO meddling in the United Kingdom's colonial business, furthermore, remained highly sensitive within the Conservative parliamentary party; indeed, where Cyprus was concerned, it became more sensitive after the eating of humble Egyptian pie finally came to an end with the high tension of the Commons debate on the Suez Agreement on 15-16 May, about which Macmillan was intensely nervous.75 In its wake the rightwing '1957 Group'—the true successor to the Suez Group—emerged as the keeper of the flame of a British Cyprus, with Spaak as one of its favourite targets. Although the Turkish Government shot down the Secretary-General's memorandum by refusing to invite Spaak to Ankara even to discuss it, the latter's 'good offices' were clearly not ended. With partition still a forbidden or unattainable fruit, and independence, 'guaranteed' or otherwise, unacceptable in both Ankara and London, it remained safer for Macmillan and his ministerial colleagues for the moment to hide behind the fact of the Cypriot impasse than to do anything to break it open. Harding's hopes for a breakthrough to relieve the growing internal stresses of the 71 72 71 75

Foreign Office to United Kingdom, telegram, 15 June 1957, FC>37i/i3oi39, RGCio72/i59. Wood to T. Jones, 13 Apr. 1957, Box 3280, RG.S9, State Department Records, USNA. 74 Ibid. Hoyer-Miller, minute, i4june 1957, FO37i/i3oi39,RGCi07i/59. Macmillan, Riding the Storm, 235.

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Emergency therefore seemed once more hemmed in on every side. When Consul Courtney retired from his post in Nicosia and was 'debriefed' in Washington, he described the present condition of the island in mid-June as 'quiet but apprehensive', adding that even those Cypriots who abhorred terrorism 'would prefer EOKA violence to continued British rule'. 76 The Governor would not have accepted this, but he was acutely conscious of the brink on which Cyprus stood. Indeed, he had already told Courtney's successor, William Belcher, that Cyprus' problems were 'again being pushed aside' by the Macmillan Government.77 What made this so dangerous, in Harding's view, was that sooner or later Grivas' restless personality made a renewed EOKA onslaught certain unless a political initiative intervened. 78 There was another development, however, which made the situation more desperate than any faced in the past. This stemmed from the heightened communal feeling in the colony. It was true that in some 'mixed1 (i.e. Greek-Turkish) villages, with a long memory of cohabitation, Makarios' release had led to a slightly better atmosphere. But for the most part the opposite was true, with some local politicians ruthlessly exploiting ethnic feelings. This tendency seemed close to getting out of control on the Turkish side, where Dr Kucuk, as Harding complained to the Turkish Ambassador in London on a visit, sought to 'out-Makarios the Archbishop';79 in mid-June Turkish councillors resigned en masse from all Cypriot municipalities, opening up a new front of ethnic competition with pregnant consequences for the future. For the first time inside the Cyprus Government the fear took shape of just how dire the British position would become if, when EOKA resumed violence, the Cypriot Turks decided to 'take the law into their own hands'.8" At that point the same sort of humiliating denouement which had befallen the British in Palestine—assaulted on all sides, with no option but to cut their losses and get out quick, with their tail between the legs—would finally beckon in Cyprus. Driven by these concerns, Harding, apart from seeing to it that the 'Green Line' dividing the Greek and Turkish parts of Nicosia was more closely policed, sought to combat what he saw as the Macmillan Government's fatal complaisance by demanding once more a 'dramatic initiative' to stave off the disintegration he most dreaded. The changing balance in his own views was conveyed by the goal he now defined for British policy: 'to disengage with honour'.<S1 But where did honour lie for the British in Cyprus? Harding was convinced it could not lie in partition, against which, as one official recorded in Whitehall, he proceeded to 'come down like a ton of bricks'.82

711 Memorandum of Conversation, 17 June 1957, Box 3280, RG59, State Department Records, USNA. 77 Belcher, telegram to Dulles, lojune 1957, ibid. 78 Harding, telegram to Lennox-Boyd, lojune 1957, 00926/1095. '" Note by Governor: Interview with the Turkish Ambassador, 27 July 1957, 00926/615. s " Harding to Lennox-Boyd, 7 June 1957,00926/1095. 81 Harding to Lennox-Boyd, i July 1957, ibid. 82 Notes on Sir John Harding's Proposals for an 'International' Solution for Cyprus, 5 July 1957, 00926/1095.


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After being forwarded a recent set of Cabinet minutes, he telegrammed to LennoxBoyd on i July as follows: I must confess that I cannot help feeling that [the Cyprus Policy Committee] papers reflect a conclusion that partition is [the] only possible solution; that the end product of any plan must inevitably [be] partition and soon; and that the only problem to be solved is how to make partition respectable to save our face . . . it does look to me as if the fundamental difference between us is that the Cyprus Policy Committee [of the Cabinet] has accepted partition as inevitable whereas I do not'.83

These words defined, indeed, the chief political and to some extent moral difference between the two British governments in London and Nicosia. It was essentially the difference between a metropolitan government concerned, in this instance, almost exclusively with the 'high polities' revolving around Cyprus, including its Westminster ramifications, and a local administration whose priority above all were conditions within the island. 'With great respect,' the Governor concluded his message with that arch formality which always indicated that he was in great earnest, 'I suggest . . . that the next step might be for H[er] M[ajesty's] Government] to put their cards on the table with the Americans and M. Spaak and tell them [their]... objectives and the lengths to which [they]... are now prepared to go in search of a settlement.'84 These lengths included the United Kingdom's preparedness, at long last, to yield her sole sovereignty over most of the island. But there was another 'length' which, Harding felt, the British Cabinet had 'frightened itself out of taking a year earlier in the search for peace:85 a willingness to exert the necessary level of pressure on Turkey as well as Greece. On that occasion Eden's nerve had failed in the run-up to the invasion of Egypt. When Field-Marshal Harding arrived in London on 6 July 1957 for talks with the Cabinet it was unclear whether the nerve of the new occupant of 10 Downing Street would prove any firmer under pressure. In the preceding weeks the Prime Minister had himself become convinced that the British Government could not afford to go through the summer without doing something about Cyprus. On 7 July Macmillan, Butler, Selwyn Lloyd, Sandys, the Marshal of the Royal Air Force, the Permanent Head of the Foreign Office, and Governor Harding discussed the problem for four hours after 4 p.m., dined, and (after a break for the Prime Minister to deliver a television broadcast on industrial problems at home) resumed into the night hours. 'We hammered out a new plan', Macmillan wrote in his diary,'. . . which seemed quite good at the time, but it will probably not look good in the morning.'86 Quite how the Prime Minister felt about it that morning we do not know, but the plan involved the concept of a 'triple sovereignty' over the island, involving Britain, Greece, and Turkey, married to the development of internal self-government, and the retention of bases by the United Kingdom. Later on the United States Embassy in London was to tell Washington 83 84

Harding, telegram to Lennox-Boyd, i July 1957, €0926/1095. 85 8f> Ibid. See p. 139. Macmillan, Riding the Storm, 660.

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that it was internal Tory politics which explained why a tridominium 'shot to the top of the list' at this stage.87 There was some truth to this, but the Governor's unwillingness to play the partition game also entered the reckoning; even the Foreign Office was now prepared to admit that partition would be 'not quite the idyllic process envisaged by the Turks'.™ The plan was not altogether brand new since it bore resemblances to that which Macmillan, as Foreign Secretary, had prepared in advance of the 1955 Tripartite Conference. But there were also key differences. The provision for British bases had not featured earlier. On that occasion Greece and Turkey were only to be 'associated' with Britain's continuing rule; now sovereignty was to be vested—at least in theory—equally between the three powers. Finally, the nationality of the Governor was to be that of a 'neutral' country, the logic being that otherwise sooner or later it would be necessary to contemplate a Greek appointee. By implication, this was to be a tridominium in which some parts of the triangle were to be more equal than others. Discussions about Cyprus continued in the full Cabinet on 10-11 July. Macmillan was conscious that the Government was approaching what he called 'the last—often the most dangerous—weeks of the | parliamentary] session'.84 'I have tried the party pretty hard over Sue/,' the Prime Minister recorded after Cabinet on the nth. 'I did not want a panic about "selling out in Cyprus".""1 Ministerial deliberations were renewed against this worrisome domestic backcloth on the i6th. The remaining problems over Cyprus, Macmillan noted, were not so much to do with the policy, but its method and presentation.'" Yet the methods concealed a range of motives and priorities. Lennox-Boyd and I larding were both taken aback when they saw the Foreign Office note drawn up after the meeting on the i6th, which made no provision for bringing in the Americans and Spaak, and envisaged a conference at which the British would leave it to the Turks to do all the running, mostly against Greece, until they intervened with their own proposals at the last minute. In complaining to Selvvyn Lloyd, the Colonial Secretary pointedly stated that this continued reliance on the Turks was a point on which Sir John Harding felt especially strongly.92 What seemed to be emerging, indeed, was strikingly reminiscent of the approach so disastrously followed in September 1955. A repetition of that exercise, the Field-Marshal stated in a memorandum for ministers, would be a fatal affront to the Greeks, and prejudice whatever chance there was of bringing them round to cooperation. The result would be to revive suspicions . . . that HMG arc simply trying to confront the Greeks (and this time the Americans and M. Spaak too) with a show of intransigence by the Turks instigated by HMG themselves. It may well never get started at all because the Greeks would not come. If it does get started, it will certainly break down in dissension and recrimination . . . In such circumstances the concept of tridominium, far from being welcomed as a t/ctis ex machina, would be S7

Whitney, memorandum, 27 Sept. 1957, Box 3281, RGsg, State Department Records, USNA. Hayter, minute, ifi.May 1957,I'O.}?!/130095, RGCio344/74. '' Macmillan, Riding the .9/»nw, 66t. '"' Ibid. '" Ibid. ''- Lennox-Boyd to Sehvyn Lloyd, 18 July 10.57, (.0926/1095. ss

s


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dismissed as a mere rabbit out of a hat. In many quarters the performance will only serve to confirm the belief that HMG are already 'sold' on partition and that they are trying to put the best face on it they can.91

Harding's use of language was, as so often, calculatingly provocative. He was interested in getting a solution, not in a 'performance' merely for public consumption. Continued evasion would only further distort an already viciously complicated problem. But there was another matter which separated the Cyprus and British Governments. Harding and his advisers looked to international pressure to bring Makarios and his supporters—doubtless kicking and screaming—into an agreement. But it was absolutely vital that the proposed system of internal selfgovernment, so vital to the overall balance of the plan, be such as to carry credibility with the bulk of ordinary Cypriots. The Governor had long since appreciated that the Radcliffe 'offer' could not do this, and that any unvarnished repetition of it would provide exactly the excuse required to reject the whole scheme. Nonetheless, the Prime Minister did not feel he could go further. 'As in the past', Reddaway summed up the Governor's basic reactions on 26 July, 'we shall have handed over the initiative to Makarios and the Greek-Cypriots . . . Unless the deadlock is broken soon, there will... be a serious risk of terrorism breaking out again. We shall then be back to square one, and no progress will be possible . . . until terrorism has again been fought to a standstill.'94 When on the same day the Foreign Office, under Macmillan's supervision, drew up the invitations to Greece and Turkey for the proposed conference, these differences both of method and substance had not been resolved. The crucial matter was whether the Greek Government would accept an invitation which was liable to be full of pitfalls for them. Peake's successor as British Ambassador in Athens, Sir Roger Allen, thought that the Karamanlis ministry, at its weakest point since September 1955, just mightbe persuaded to do so. He described to Selwyn Lloyd how the Greek Government was 'beginning to play on two levels',95 on the one hand striking stern poses as when on 12 July it confirmed its intention to inscribe Cyprus again at the United Nations, including this time a controversial subitem on the allegations of brutality, whilst on the other feeling out 'the best terms they could get'. In fact, the mainland Greeks had always played on two (if not more) levels. But it was the case that a newly heightened consciousness of their vulnerability had accentuated these layered tactics. There were fresh rumours of Turkish gunrunning into Cyprus, with Turkish Army officers infiltrating in the guise of teachers in Muslim schools;96 and although American intelligence agents were sent to reconnoitre the southern coast of Anatolia, and found no evidence of arms consignments being sent, in Washington this was not taken as conclusive proof that something of the kind was not going on.97 There was even talk of a possible coup in Athens. For M 94 95 96 97

'Cyprus: Memorandum by the Governor' in 00926/1095. Reddaway, minute, 26July 1957, €0926/1055. Allen to Young, 19 July 1957, FO37i/i3oo8s, RGCio3i9/8i. Allen to Young, 31 July 1957, FO37i/i30o85,RGCio3i9/9i. Warren, telegram to State Department, Box 3281, RGsg, State Department Records, USNA.

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heleaguered Greek ministers, an international conference might at least 'buy time' and help to siphon off some of these pressures. But to inveigle the Greeks to another London conference there had to be a castiron assurance both that this was not to be September 1955 all over again, and that partition was not one of the projected outcomes. This had become, and remained, the nub of the matter. It was also relevant to the role to be assumed by the Americans. Macmillan was prepared to meet at least one of Harding's criticisms by trying to involve the United States more closely. On 31 July Selwyn Lloyd personally promised Secretary of State Dulles that the British Government would not enter the proposed conference with any prior understanding with Turkey (or what the Greeks called an 'Anglo-Turkish conspiracy'). But what Dulles wanted to find out before agreeing to engage American influence on behalf of a conference was whether the 'partition pledge' made by the Colonial Secretary in Parliament on 19 December 1956 still held. This was the tell-tale sign of British intentions over Cyprus. Having explored the matter, the United States Embassy in London advised Washington that the British Government still, in fact, regarded that statement as applying to any new plan for determining Cyprus' future.1'8 Bent on having as little as possible to do with what they suspected might turn out to be simply a front for the 'vivisection' of the island, therefore, the Eisenhower Administration quickly retired once more into the background. The intense diplomacy which followed over the month of August we need only briefly summarize. On the 3rd, Sir Roger Allen formally presented the British invitation to Averoff in Athens. He told the Greek minister that the United Kingdom would approach the intended conference with a genuinely 'open mind'. A couple of days later Allen was also able to tell Averoff that the British Government would agree to Spaak sitting at the conference table. But he could not meet the essential Greek fears, and on the gth Karamanlis turned down the invitation. 'We decided not to take no for an answer,' Macmillan wrote," and London continued to press Athens to alter its decision. Governor Harding did what little he could to nudge things along, easing some Emergency Regulations, and even commuting the death sentence of a convicted terrorist, Andreas Sophocleous. Throughout this time, however, Bowker advised from Ankara that the Turks were sure to reject anything which the Greeks accepted. In short, the conference, like that of 1955, was bound to crash, and with perhaps even more catastrophic effects than its predecessor. On 27 August the Greek Government, who above all feared the fall-out from a failed conference marked by acrimony, decisively rejected the renewed invitation, and although some desultory attempts continued to keep the conference proposal alive—dogged by leaks in Whitehall which suggested to Ambassador Allen that 'some source in a confidential position' might be betraying his or her confidence100—it was, in fact, doomed. 1)S 'United Kingdom Commitments and Proposed Conference', Embassy Dispatch to State Department, Box 3281, RGgo., State Department Records, USNA. '''' Macmillan, Riding the Storm, 672. '"" Allen to Addis, 12 Oct. 1957, FC)37i/130143, RGCi6o2/4.


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Instead, a new round of polemical debates about Cyprus loomed at the United Nations; and, as everybody knew, such debates had usually been the signal for further violence in the island. Violence, indeed, looked set to break out on all sides in the colony. On 31 August four Turks—members of'Volkan'—were killed by an explosion in a house in a suburb of Nicosia; police investigations revealed it to be a bomb factory. Harding's brusque reply to the call from Dr Dervis, Mayor of Nicosia, that the Security Forces should crack down on the dangerous new factor of Turkish terrorism helped to encourage the growth of Greek perceptions of British complicity in Turkish depredations.101 That Harding would have looked benignly on terrorism from any quarter was to mistake the man. Nevertheless, the incident was important for leaving the initial traces of a tendency within the Cyprus Government and Security Forces to turn a blind eye to the 'men of violence' in the Turkish community. In the light of later events, the decision not to nip Turkish aggression in the bud just as it emerged into the open may have been fatal to the Greeks, but it was also to prove highly damaging to the British. There was, however, another significant form of violence just then getting under way. This consisted of EOKA attacks on the Communists—themselves mostly, if not exclusively, Greeks. Since Makarios' release AKEL had shown signs of independent activity. With speculation rife about a possible end to the Emergency triggered by Makarios' release, it was natural that the Left should seek to position itself for the future. British intelligence reported that AKEL had now recovered at the grass-roots and had 'a ready supply of juveniles' for its demonstrations102—a sign that the position in Cypriot politics of EOKA and the Right was not impregnable. There were also grounds for believing that the Cyprus Government, having once proscribed AKEL, was seeking to give it a discreet boost. The party's old leader, Andreas Ziartides, was allowed to re-enter the island from Greece in May, making an obvious contrast with the treatment of Makarios. Of the average trickle of twentyfive persons a month that were let out of the detention camps through the summer, a disproportionate number were AKEL members. It seems likely that when Harding envisioned a conference at which Makarios would be flanked by 'other Cypriot representatives', he calculated that a reactivated AKEL would be among them. Nonetheless, Left-Right rivalry in Cyprus was far too deeply embedded to hinge on external manipulation. AKEL's modest revival, indeed, ignited all of Grivas' old Khi-ite neuroses.103 From mid-August a series of beatings of Leftists began. Some of the most sickening atrocities perpetrated by EOKA were later to be against AKEL, which lacked the capacity to protect its own rank and file possessed by both the British and the Turks. For the present, this intra-Greek violence heightened the gathering sense that the dam of the wider Cypriot 'truce'—a truce the British themselves espoused not to recognize—might be about to break. 101 102 103

Crouzet, Conflitde Chypre, ii. 959. Belcher, telegram to Dulles, 13 Aug. 1957, Box 3281, RG59, State Department Records, USNA. See p. 29.

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The continuance of the round of Cyprus diplomacy into September reflected a general desire to head off a breakdown of the fragile equilibrium in the island. Much of this revolved around the United Nations. The British Government at first hoped to prevent the inscription of the issue on to the agenda in New York, and it was to secure American cooperation—or as John Profumo, the junior Colonial Office minister, put it, to ensure that 'the Americans should not go cold on us at this critical stage"04—that they agreed to the first wide-ranging Anglo-American talks on Cyprus which took place in Washington between 11 and 14 September, just ahead of the new session. These, however, did not amount to the 'laying of cards on the table' which Harding had previously called for. The Americans were only given glimpses of the tridominium plan, and although they agreed to go away and consider what they had been told, it was evident that they did not think much of the British suggestions—as one of them tactfully put it to the British team, the doubts harboured inside the Administration were 'not based solely upon the views of the United States Ambassador in Athens but represented serious doubts . . . in the State Department'.10'' 'Clearly the Americans are trying to disengage' was how such remarks were interpreted in London,1116 and on 20 September the United States delegation did not oppose the Greek Government's sponsorship of the Cyprus item for discussion, which duly won a majority. Nobody expected the following debate to lead anywhere other than to more verbal confrontation—and perhaps worse. Averoff suffered no illusion that this inscription was anything but a pyrrhic victory for Greece. In New York he had the albatross of the brutality allegations slung around his neck which, embarrassing as they were for Britain, were also regarded as gratuitously provocative by most other delegations. When Archbishop Makarios arrived in New York to listen to the debates, for the first time he found access to senior American officials barred. This was only an outward ripple of something more fundamental: the attenuation of American sympathy for, and patience with, Greece's tactics over Cyprus. During the summer Karamanlis and A veroff had felt bound to respond to their domestic opponents' calls to exert more leverage over their NATO partners. Between 17 and 21 August they had visited Cairo for talks with President Nasser. This may have been essentially play-acting. The Greek leadership consistently refused to contemplate any substantive reorientation away from the West. But with the crisis over Soviet penetration into Syria just coming to a climax, this was not a good time for the Greeks even to appear to exploit American susceptibilities. As the British had found out over Suez, the Eisenhower White House expected from their junior allies an impeccable loyalty, and they expected this of Greece even more readily than from the United Kingdom. It was in an attempt to row back from the exposed Greek position that A veroff quickly latched on to the proposal for an independence solution for Cyprus which Dulles himself had first seriously propounded. He even persuaded Archbishop Makarios to agree in private that "" Profumo, minute, 17 Aug. 1957, FO37i/t.}oii7,RGCiO5i/i39. 1113 Roberts, telegram to Foreign Office, 2 Oct. 1957, FO3717130139, RGCio72/68. '"" Caccia, minute, xoOct. 1957, FO3717130139, RGCio72//i.

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this might prove an acceptable compromise—an important moment in the evolution of the latter's views.107 When the United Nations session finally opened, not only did Averoff refrain from actively pursuing the issue of alleged ill-treatment by British Security Forces in Cyprus, he told Selwyn Lloyd in a meeting that his Government was now willing to consider an independent Cyprus within the British Commonwealth of Nations.108 This was a very long way indeed from the Enosis ideals which had flourished for so many decades in both Greek and Cypriot politics. In making his approach to Selwyn Lloyd, Averoff knew very well from his own sources how short the time was for peace to be secured in Cyprus. It was not in Grivas' nature to let major international discussions take place about the future of the island without signalling his own stake in the matter. This renewed brittleness lay behind the analysis sent to London by Sir Roger Allen in Athens on 14 October. He advised that Her Majesty's Government had to move very quickly to make the most of Averoff's opening for a solution. Otherwise—conscious of the statement made by the prominent British Labour leader Barbara Castle at the Party conference in Brighton on 4 October, in which she referred to the 'freedom operation' which the next Socialist Government would carry out over Cyprus—there would be no chance whatsoever of obtaining Greek cooperation, since it would be obvious that all they had to do was hang on for the next British election to bring Labour into office. The sole alternative he saw to a rapid push towards conciliation, in harness with the Americans, was 'to allow things to drag on as they are indefinitely', with all its growing risks.109 The tridominium plan he dismissed as a 'waste of time' for the simple reason that it was equally unacceptable to the two sides—the Turks because it was not partition, the Greeks because it might lead to partition. Allen concluded with that nervous bashfulness which British officials often adopted when making suggestions about Cyprus which they knew to clash with powerful political elements on their own side: Obviously I am looking at it only from the Greek point of view. I know I am being rash in even suggesting that there is a chance that we could tie the Greek Government down . .. But timing in these things is imperative. Six months ago there did not seem to be any possible compromise in sight; three months hence I believe that any possible compromise will have receded over the horizon. If we want to settle the Cyprus problem, I think we must take our decision now.110

But did ministers want—or rather could they take the contingent risks—in rushing to settle the Cyprus problem in the time-frame available? Allen did not include such an imponderable lightly. Yet, time was working against such a hope even more irrevocably than he supposed. On the day he wrote his dispatch, the widely respected Mukhtar of Dhali was murdered by EOKA whilst going about his business in the village. This act was widely taken to presage the end of the truce on the island. For a considerable period Governor Harding had been warning that only the intercession 107 109

m Crouzet, ConflitdeChypre,\\.^. Ibid.970. AllentoHayter, i4Oct. i957,FO37i/i3oo8s,RGCio3i9/ii9.

"" Ibid.

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() April -4 October 1957

of a credible political solution could prevent the recurrence of violence. At the time of the Mukhtar's murder, no such solution was in sight. On 18 October—curiously echoing the very beginning of the violence on the island—the Cyprus BroadcastingService was bombed off the air. A few days later Harding resigned from his onerous and unforgiving post. Harding's resignation was, of course, a major watershed in the history of the Emergency in Cyprus. Why did he do it? For one thing, he had become convinced that the days had passed when the full rigour of the Emergency could be sustained. He had always understood that there was a limit to the period over which a rigorous extirpation of terrorism from the wider Cypriot community could be kept up. That point appeared to have been passed at some indistinct juncture since the freeing of Makarios. For Harding this was confirmed by the Sampson case—itself a kind of 'test of will' of both the Cyprus and British Governments. With the date of his execution imminent, Archbishop Makarios sent a message through American channels that the carrying out of Sampson's sentence would 'destroy all the bridges between the Cypriots and the British'.''' I larding reprieved Sampson on the eve of the United Nations session, just as Tsardellis had been reprieved in February, but although there is no evidence that this decision was actually imposed on the Governor from London, it aroused deep reluctance on his part, and led to strong feelings within the Security Forces. This decision, enforced as it was by political necessity, smacked of the middle way which Harding detested but which now seemed on the verge of becoming ineluctable. Sampson's escape from the gallows did not determine Harding's subsequent decision to go, but it inclined him further in that direction. There is no doubt, too, that the Castle statement at the Labour conference appearing to commit a future Socialist government to a radical change of course was a heavy blow to Harding. He had for some while banked on encouraging a bipartisan approach to Cyprus in Westminster as the natural counterpart to winning the cooperation of the United States and NATO—all part of a strategy to box in the GreekCypriots, and above all the Archbishop. It was rather typical of the Cyprus Government that this perfectly logical aim had got mixed up with questionable tactics. Reddaway had circulated 'semi-official' material on the eve of the Labour Party conference to the effect that Socialist Governments never did in office what they promised beforehand. A British colonial official slandering the integrity of Her Majesty's Opposition was unusual, leading the Colonial Office to comment feelingly that 'the desirability of transferring Mr Reddaway [from Cyprus] is as present in our hearts as Calais was in Queen Mary's'." 2 Harding, however, stood by his chief political adviser, who otherwise would probably have soon been on his way elsewhere. This episode evokes why the Castle intervention touched such a sensitive local chord. Nor could attempts by other Labour politicians to cover Castle's tracks do '" Hadscll (United States Embassy, London) to Foreign Office, 26 July 1957, (^026/883. Pcake, minute, 3 Oct. 1957, CO()26/Q53. Such frustration arose, in part, from the fact that Rcddaway was suspected of feeding the Cyprus Broadcasting Service with material 'designed to infuriate Greeks'. See the Spectator (28 Sept. 1957). 112


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much to alleviate the effect, although Desmond Donnelly, a visiting Socialist MP, went on Cyprus radio to assert that 'in a [party] conference words can have a different meaning back in England to what they have here'. There were even some on the Greek side who were made 'profoundly gloomy' by it,113 since it was bound to cut the ground from under the feet of any attempt at 'moderation'; it was therefore understandable that Harding's despondency rose to a peak. International deadlock, paralysis and lack of consensus in London, communal tension, Grivas and EOKA set for what military intelligence predicted might be a 'big bang',114 and, to cap it all, the prospect of reductions in the garrison—that the Field-Marshal chose to get away from this gridlock whilst some semblance of quiet still existed need surprise nobody. The first report that he had decided to go appeared in the Daily Telegraph on 9 October, and it was indeed on or about that date that Harding confirmed to Lennox-Boyd an intention which he had first raised as a possibility a few weeks earlier. The interruption of EOKA's truce which soon followed was closely related to the resulting public speculation surrounding the Governor's position, since Grivas was absolutely determined that what looked set to be Harding's final days on the island should be marked by violence as a token of his failure. Equally, Harding was determined to ensure that his claims to have mastered terrorism should not be confounded, and to this effect Emergency Regulations were actually tightened up a notch. All this was part of the embittered choreography of the conflict, in which the appearances of right and wrong, defeat and victory, became everything, and the realities wholly obscured. Although Harding had told Lennox-Boyd that he wished to be out of Cyprus by the end of the month, the necessary arrangements took time. Many of these were delicate, such as ensuring that the Greek Government toned down any note of'jubilation' when the public announcement was made. Averoff promised to do what he could. Assurances had also to be conveyed to Ankara that the replacement of Harding did not signify a change of policy, or that Makarios would be allowed back into the island. It was in ways such as this that the coming transition carried a political mortgage from the first. The most sensitive arrangement of all, naturally, was the succession to the Field-Marshal. Rumours on this abounded—it was even suggested that Sir Anthony Eden, presently in retirement in Jamaica, might re-enter public life in this role.11' It was a leak in the leading Jamaican newspaper The Gleaner which led to a hurried confirmation on 22 October both of Harding's imminent departure and of his replacement, though the latter was not to be Eden, but the incumbent Governor in Kingston, Sir Hugh Foot; the announcement underlined, however, that the change at the top was 'an administrative and not a political one', and that it did not mean that Cyprus was regarded as of any less strategic significance.116 By this point it was already too late for the Field-Marshal to depart by the end of the month, which '" Stewart to Addis, 11 Oct. 1957, ¥0371/130085, RGCiO3i9/ii5. Memorandum of Conversation at US Consulate, 26 Sept., Box 3281, RGsg, State Department Records, USNA. 115 Times of Cyprus (16 Oct. 1957). "fl The Times (22 Oct. 1957). 114

20344/286. Seep. 247. '" Smith, minute, iSAug. 1956,00926/1069. " Roberts to Foreign Office, 18 Sept. 1958, FO37I/I3&392, RGCio72/66. " Alistair Home, Macmillan, 1957-1 g86 (London, 1989), ii. 101.


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leadership which fed off the recollections of Churchill's often stage-managed but undoubtedly heart-warming acts of bravado, in which Greece had figured so largely.33 For Macmillan, what mattered in Athens was not so much the substance of the talks with Karamanlis and Averoff, as to be seen to talk. He did not tell the latter that the Turks had in principle accepted the plan, since that might have led them to put a higher premium on Greek cooperation.34 The sparring between the delegations— Macmillan had with him a galaxy of experts from the Foreign and Colonial Offices— was predictable, and illustrated the main lines of division. The British premier pressed the argument that the offer of'Partnership' was a last chance to avoid partition, which he admitted (borrowing Harding's terminology) was a 'policy of despair', but one which, he added, had been shown to be feasible in Korea, Kashmir, and Palestine. None of these was, or was meant to be, an edifying precedent. Karamanlis responded by saying that 'Partnership' in the distorted form embodied in the British plan was the worst of all possible solutions since its very complications made it the most divisive at every level. It was the elements of division which dominated the conversation. Macmillan happily gave up the 'double nationality clause', which his own officials considered a damaging proposition anyway. He stuck by the separate communal legislatures on the grounds that they 'divided at the bottom, but united at the top' through the proposed Governor's Council (the problem with this being that it was the bottom which counted in a small island). To salve this particular wound, Macmillan held out the possibility that early on there might be scope for introducing joint deliberations between the two chambers. However, the most contentious issue by far concerned the appointment of the 'Representatives' from Turkey and Greece. Macmillan naturally sought to play this innovation down, saying that they would merely 'help the Governor', and likening them to the proxenoi, or consuls which ancient Athens had sent to Sparta and other city-states. Karamanlis was not moved by classical analogy. At the end of two days, Macmillan formed the impression that the Greek ministers were frightened of Makarios, of their own Parliament, and of the rise of the Left after the election of 11 May.35 Yet they were also frightened of war and partition. It was not clear which of these nightmares would dominate their actions. For Archbishop Makarios it must have been intensely galling to have the future of Cyprus discussed between British and Greek ministers whilst just a few streets away he endured his dreary and mostly meaningless audiences. Yet he could not be ignored altogether. Macmillan told Karamanlis that Makarios might be allowed to go home when the violence had ended. This was hardly going very far. Nevertheless, privately the thesis was gaining ground in official British circles that sooner rather than later 'the Makarios card' had to be played.36 It was the only high-value card they had left with regard to Greek and Greek-Cypriot opinion. Playing it, of course, 33 One scholar has referred to Churchill's 'obsession with Greek affairs' during the Second World War. See I. C. B. Dear (ed.), The Oxford Companion to the Second World War (Oxford, 1995), p. 507. '4 For full details see Stephen Xydis, Cyprus: Reluctant Republic (The Hague, 1973), pp. 190-220. 15 Ibid.211. -16 Ross, minute, 20 Aug. 1958, FO37i/i36i96,RGCio3i9/2i2.

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/ July~4 December i g$8

remained very sensitive for Macmillan, but it was to help prepare the ground a bit further that Governor Foot was called again to Athens to traipse—this time on two separate occasions—up and down the staircase to Makarios' hotel suite (though this time he was able to use the main one in the hotel, not the fire escape at the back). The warnings he took with him, however, were much the same. Although this side-kick diplomacy was not, some journalists remarked, entirely in keeping with a Governor's dignity, for Foot it still held out some hope of getting 'the problem out of the military context and back to the political field';'7 and these meetings may have helped to persuade Grivas to extend his truce beyond the initial deadline of 10 August. Yet, little had changed, and the following day the Greek Government began the usual motions to lodge a Cyprus appeal at the United Nations session scheduled to begin in September. Macmillan was then already in Ankara for the really important leg of his journey. Macmillan's trip to Ankara was the first by a British Prime Minister since Churchill had gone to Adana to meet Ismet Inonu in February 1943. During the summer months Turkey's rulers usually held court by the cool of the Bosporus, but Menderes insisted that this meeting take place in Ankara, where, unlike Istanbul, there could be no sign of a Greek presence, past or present. Macmillan's experience was certainly an improvement on that of Selwyn Lloyd. Parties of cheering schoolchildren were ostentatiously lined up on the route to President Bayal's chalet, which was specially vacated for Macmillan to use. There were no banners proclaiming 'Partition or Death'. But this did not mean that things would automatically go smoothly, since any false move—any too flagrant highlighting of 'modifications' to ease the Greeks into cooperation—might revive amongst the Turks what Bowker called 'their art of intransigence'. Macmillan had three meetings with Menderes and Zorlu, which he described to Selwyn Lloyd as 'all of them short and only one of them pleasant—the last'.38 Things did not start well at the opening dinner on Saturday, 10 August. Macmillan told Menderes that the Greeks 'liked a good deal of the plan', but were not happy with all the details. This was hardly true to the spirit of Greek views, but Macmillan's handling of the talks in Athens had been such as to allow him to say precisely this in Ankara without actually lying. The Turkish leader replied that he was not in the least interested in what the Greeks thought, and that he expected the British to fulfil their word, and implement partition in totality. 'The Turks were at their most suspicious,' Macmillan recorded at the time. 'Zorlu was cold and truculent.' But, as Macmillan admitted, the Foreign Minister had a logic all his own. Either the British kept to the 'policy for action' outlined on 19 June, or they could fall back on a 'policy for negotiation'. If they opted for the latter, the price of Turkish help would go up rather than down. For Macmillan this was depressing, but not as depressing as it might have been. " Belcher to State Department, 8 Aug. 1958, Box 3284, RGs9, State Department Records, USNA. •'" Macmillan, telegram to Foreign Secretary, 1i Aug. 1958, FO371/136340.


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The key thing for him was that 'neither Menderes nor Zorlu withdrew their offer to give us full support if we put the plan into effect as it stood'. When Turkish tempers seemed to be fraying at the last full session, Macmillan had the meeting quickly adjourned for a lunch interval, during which he and his aides had to do some quick thinking. Bowker's advice was that the Turks now genuinely wanted the plan (that is, an administrative partition of a theoretically undivided Cyprus) and were keen 'to revert to full cooperation with us in all details'. At the same time, if the plan suddenly seemed to be pointing in an unreliable direction, they were also quite prepared to turn nasty again—a nastiness which would include letting TMT loose in Cyprus, and might even spread to Istanbul or elsewhere in the Aegean. Such considerations interacted with Macmillan's temperament. He hated 'unpleasantness' face-to-face. It was a trait which in a very different context was fatally to damage his premiership.39 In this instance it led him to the conclusion that 'if we make it clear that we were still on the "policy for action", and above all that we would not go back to the Greeks... we could end on a happier note'.40 Ending on a happy note was, for Macmillan, the goal of politics. It was where his personality bore little resemblance to the cantankerous transparency which was the hallmark of Churchill. When the session reconvened, therefore, Macmillan promptly told the Turks that a complete understanding now existed. 'There was no question of negotiation', he stated, 'and no need for discussion of this or that possible modification.' The mood instantly lightened. Even Zorlu became a bit less frigid, though this did not stop Macmillan remembering him as 'one of the stupidest—except for low cunning— rudest, and most cassant men I have ever met'.41 Having rowed to what he thought was safety, Macmillan wanted to get out of Ankara before things changed again. At the final dinner the sentiments were affable, but beneath the surface feelings were as complex as ever. Asked 'off-the-record' by British journalists when they met at the British Embassy shortly before the Prime Minister's departure how he would compare his two conferences in the Greek and Turkish capitals, he replied that different national characteristics made it awkward to say. 'The character of the Greek', he observed, 'was the same we had.'42 The Greek, Macmillan mused, talked round a problem and appreciated its subtleties. The Turk saw everything in black and white, but hid his true feelings. 'One could be confident', he stated, 'that the Greek would overstate his case and accept less. With the Turk you could not be so sure.' This estimation underlay the tactical insights of the Macmillan Plan. But it also unconsciously underpinned what, for the United Kingdom, had evolved as a key paradox of the dispute: that is, the irrevocable alienation of a close and like-minded friend, for •w During 'the Profumo Affair', which played such a large part in the final phases of his premiership, Macmillan's failure to elicit from an erring minister the truth about aspects of his private life was widely attributed to his distaste for unpleasantness in personal interviews. 40 Macmillan, telegram to Selwyn Lloyd, 11 Aug. 1958, FO37I/136340. 41 Home, Macmillan, ii. 102. 42 Transcript of off-the-record briefing for British journalists at the British Embassy, 11 Aug. 1958, FO37i/i3634o,RGCio344/393.

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the sake of an uncertain relationship with a country which, whatever its strengths and virtues, did not share the same values and cast of mind. It will be obvious from all this that the conclusion of Macmillan's official biographer that in Ankara he 'more or less handed them [the Turks] a fait accompli' could not be further from the truth. 41 What he had to decide when he got back to London, nevertheless, was whether he could afford 'some slight modification' which might soften the blow of the Plan to the Greeks 'without causing the Turks to run out'. Before then, however, the Prime Minister called in again on Cyprus, where he spent the afternoon and evening of 11 August. In between discussions with Foot, Macmillan had other engagements. Amidst very tight security, he was taken by helicopter to visit Army units, including the Guards battalion with which he had served on the Western Front in 1918. To Consul Belcher, this surprise visit was not an unqualified success, and 'seemed ill-suited to the needs of the political situation and the present mood of the populace'.44 In a BBC interview broadcast that day in Cyprus the Prime Minister said that 'the most thrilling thing was to see our boys in the field and the work they are doing maintaining the highest traditions of British service'. After what had recently happened, and was still happening—several Greek villages around Nicosia and Famagusta were being subjected to a punitive 'quarantine'—such words, Belcher thought, struck quite the wrong note. As a British leader amongst his own troops in the field, it was, in fact, a note he could hardly avoid striking; if criticism is to be made, it is that such language was not off-set by assurances designed to engage with the feelings of the mass of Cypriots who were, after all, also British citizens. But then Macmillan never did believe that the fate of Cyprus should be determined by what Cypriots, be they Greeks or Turks, actually wanted for themselves. Those who really mattered were elsewhere. Just prior, however, to leaving on an RAF plane for London, he did have two very brief meetings at Government House with the Greek Mayors and Turkish-Cypriot representatives. It was noticeable that in the former case he said virtually nothing—when the Greeks complained, for example, that the Governor had become 'the prisoner of the senior members of the administration, such as Mr Reddaway', and was taking a circuitous but inexorable course towards partition, the Prime Minister simply said he had come to listen not to speak.45 By contrast, in his interview with Dr Kucuk and Rauf Denktash he was voluble with goodwill.46 After that, he left, never to see again an island which, for all its charms, caused him nothing but trouble. Macmillan was not, it must be said, averse to taking chances in the hope of forcing a settlement, but the risks had to be very finely calculated, and hedged about with limitations. So it was with the decision he took once back in Downing Street to 41

44

Home, jWac'nillan, ii. 102.

Belcher, telegram to State Department, 12 Aug. 1958, Box 3284, RGs^, State Department Records, USNA. 45 Record of meeting between Prime Minister and Mayors of Nicosia and Kyrenia, Monday 11 Aug., CO926/643. 40 Record of conversation between Prime Minister and Turkish leaders, ibid.


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modify his Plan, comforted by Bowker's advice that if done with care the Turks would not desert.47 Every concession to Greek fears was thus counterbalanced by further reinsurance for Turkish expectations. Dual nationality disappeared. The external 'Representatives' were not now to have a seat on the Governor's Council, though their 'advisory' status would remain. Whilst there was to be no joint legislature, the draft revision Macmillan drew up looked forward to 'the development of some form of representative institutions serving the interests of the island as a whole'. Meanwhile, the compensations for the Turks were more concrete. Registers for communal elections were to be drawn up immediately. De facto separate Turkish municipalities were to be formally recognized. Above all, a firm date—'the appointed day'—was established for the inauguration of the 'partnership' set-up, with the Turkish representative (who would now quite clearly have no Greek counterpart) arriving on i October 1958, just six weeks away. This package was approved by a depleted British Cabinet on 12 August (most ministers were on holiday, which was not inconvenient in screening out the 'doubters'). When the Americans were given a brief precis of this revision, Dulles again asked for two days' postponement of the announcement in order to call for calm in Athens and Ankara, but was refused. Macmillan had committed himself in Ankara to a 'policy for action', not for negotiation, and on the afternoon of 15 August he personally announced the alterations in the House of Commons. Whilst he spoke the British Embassy in Athens provided the Archbishop with a letter detailing the amendments, and commending them as a 'last chance' for peace. The 'revised offer' of 15 August was more than A fait accompli. It was an ultimatum which, in the cannon of the British 'end of empire', echoed the accelerated timetables for departure during the final stages of British rule in India and Palestine, with this crucial difference: that in the case of Cyprus, when the period was up, expatriate administration would not have ended, but rather put on a new and more complicated basis. After Macmillan's announcement, Karamanlis rushed back from a holiday in Rhodes to host an emergency meeting of the Greek Cabinet, which promptly rejected what was put forward. Of itself, this did not count for much— Macmillan frankly admitted to Foot in advance that 'he would not be too disappointed' whatever form the Greek answer took.48 The Turks were another matter. Ambassador Bowker sought an interview with Menderes in Istanbul almost as soon as Macmillan had sat down in Westminster. This was not immediately granted, but when Bowker did gain access to the Turkish leader, the tone was entirely amiable, and on 25 August Turkey formally accepted the Plan at last, thereby bringing to an end what Bowker called 'the most strenuous phase of Anglo-Turkish relations in the context of Cyprus during the last three years'.49 Bowker had soaked up a lot of personal pressure and suffered some humiliation in bringing this about. His reward was 47

Bowker to Foreign Office, 12 Aug. 1958, FO37I/I36340, RGCI0344/27Q. Macmillan to Foot, 18 Aug. 1958, 06926/1069. " Stewart to Selwyn Lloyd, 5 Sept. 1958, FC>37i/i3634i, RGCio34/3i i.

48 4

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an immediate preferment as British Ambassador in Vienna. The British Foreign Office was left to puzzle why the Turkish reactions to the Plan of 19 June, and the revision of 15 August, had heen so contrasting? Was it because Nuri-es-Said had been alive in Baghdad on the first date, and dead on the second? Or had the Turks been bluffing all along about war and invasion? This, too, mattered little, compared to the new certainty in what was now beyond dispute an Anglo-Turkish 'alliance'. Outside the closed circle of restored Anglo-Turkish diplomacy, the outlook was not so rosy. Greek and Greek-Cypriot outrage was inevitable. Belcher reflected such feelings when, despite his usual sympathy for the dilemmas of the Government of Cyprus, he sent to Washington a dispatch which constituted a fierce denunciation of British actions, and in the course of which he said that the 'Greeks [in Cyprus] did not want this particular fight, they were goaded into it'.50 But the most penetrating and informed critique of the direction in which the British Government's actions were leading did not come from the Americans, or the Greeks, but suggestively from within the Colonial Office itself. This analysis merits our attention because it throws light on the events outlined in this chapter—and on what followed in the months ahead. It began by stating that all the evidence now pointed towards a renewal of large-scale violence by EOKA in the next few weeks, prompted either by a British 'provocation' such as the carrying out of a mandatory capital sentence or the implementation of the Plan, or by Turkish moves to accelerate a line of de facto partition. The ensuing argument needs to be related at some length: We [the British J shall not be able to implement . . . [the Plan J at all in that period, and probably never will as regards any of the Greek-Cypriot aspects . . . we shall probably be able to start implementing it as regards the Turkish-C\ priot aspects . . . But though this will be the surface appearance of things, the underlying trend is just as readily discernible, but much less pleasant to contemplate. For what we shall find is that we are inevitably affecting what we might call 'pre-partition' at the behest of the Turks, and at the cost of British as well as Turkish lives, in order to keep the amount of Turkish goodwill which we require in order to stay in control of the island. 51

This deformed outcome, in which British lives would be expended to secure Turkish interests in establishing a partitionist 'solution' under the cover of the Plan, was the product, according to this account, of two theories which had become embedded in British policy, both of which were founded on a myth. The first of these was what was termed the 'Reddaway theory', according to which 'by putting the Turks back into Cyprus we shall force the Greeks to accept British terms'. In fact, it was now clear that in the end the Greeks would fight, and that given the condition of British public opinion, 'it will be we who will crack first'. Then there was the matching 'Kendrew theory', which held that EOKA had been brought to its knees byMarch 1957 and 'could at any time since have been smashed in three months . . . if 511 Belcher, telegram to State Department, 21 Aug.. 1958, Box 3284, RG.59, State Department Records, USNA. 51 Smith, minute, 18 Aug. 1958, COg26/io6().


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[only] the military were given their chance and the full process of detentions and executions were allowed to work its results...'." This theory was held to be as bankrupt as the first. Furthermore, neither showed any signs of coming to terms with the basic fact that the strategic significance of Cyprus had been in rapid decline since Suez in 1956. This unusually frank examination concluded that some form of British withdrawal is [now] becoming inevitable. Opinion at present may be prepared to 'soldier on' or 'implement the Plan', but it will not last. The question is whether it is more dishonourable to seek to postpone withdrawal until it has been carried out by somebody else, than to take steps to effect it oneself.53

It was this parting shot which hit the mark most surely. The time had indeed gone by when there might have been any honour to be had in leaving Cyprus. It was now a matter of mitigating dishonour—and minimizing bloodshed. Would Her Majesty's Government at last brace itself for a clear-cut decision to go? Or was it still so paralysed by the complex interplay between internal Conservative politics and Middle Eastern diplomacy that that decision could only be taken by other people over Britain's head? The longer the Plan continued, the more the odds were to swing towards the latter rather than the former denouement. It was in the lap of the gods, meanwhile, which British lives might be expended to such little purpose. The danger in the fixing of an 'appointed day' was that it defined not only the formal inauguration of the Plan, but the further violence which that Plan was bound to arouse. Averoff sent messages to Grivas through his accustomed intermediaries pleading that bloodshed would serve no Greek interest whatever.54 Governor Foot was no less anxious to avert an early renewal of action by EOKA. There was one option open to the British which might conceivably stem a descent into chaos: to allow Makarios back into the island to throw his own blanket over EOKA's terrorism. Nobody was under any illusion that the Archbishop would, if permitted to re-enter the island, openly support the 'Partnership' arrangements. But what he could do, it was argued in various quarters, was say to his own people, 'Hold on and weather the storm.'55 In this way the Archbishop would be doing the British job for them by bringing about a kind of covert Greek acquiescence. In the same vein Ambassador Allen advised from Athens that only by publicizing the date of Makarios' return could a recurrence of assassinations in Cyprus be avoided. Yet such assessments did not represent the consensus. The Colonial Secretary, for example, was convinced that the Archbishop could only be allowed back once the Turkish facts as enshrined in the Plan had been irreversibly established on the ground. Inevitably, once it leaked out that such a debate about Makarios' future was under way, a campaign began in right-wing Conservative circles—most prominently in the Daily Express—in favour of his continued exile. 52

Ibid. The 'Kendrew theory' clearly went back to the arguments used in Field-Marshal Harding's 'Farewell Address' to the District Security Committees on 21 October 1957. For the latter, see p. 527. 53 S4 Ibid. XyAis, Reluctant Republic, 228-33. 55 Mediterranean Department memorandum, 25 Aug. 1958,03926/926.

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British thinking about Makarios had always been shaped by the problems he posed to security inside the island. This remained true. If he were to be allowed to return to Cyprus, it was pointed out, there would be no possibility of keeping in detention all those individuals recently apprehended during Operation Matchbox. By sending out the wrong message, the recent efforts of General Kendrew to improve the flow and quality of information by building up a 'large-scale network of agents' would be vitiated.56 Then again, what if Makarios, once ensconced back in his Palace in Nicosia, took up his seditious ways, presumably couched in that maddeningly satirical vein which so easily eluded the reach of the statute book? Could he be rearrested? If so, where might he then be imprisoned? He could hardly be sent back to the Seychelles. One suggestion was that he could be restricted to the Monastery of Stavrovouni, the most vertiginously elevated of all Cypriot monasteries. This proposition suffered from the snag that should Makarios be detained anew on such a pinnacle, a high proportion of the Greek population would only have to lift their eyes from the plain at the centre of the island to be reminded of his internment. It was the special power of the Archbishop—but one damaging to himself as well as to others— to make the British tie themselves in knots such as these. They got in the way of the one thing which might have pacified Greek feelings whilst the Plan was being translated into fact. There was another factor relevant, not only to the vexed issue of what to do about Makarios, but to a great deal else: the shaky morale of the British Security Forces. This was still affected by the fall-out from the Guenyeli massacre in June. On 23 August the trial had begun in Nicosia of nine Turks on charges related to that event. But the Army also felt itself on trial, something it naturally resented. This grievance was intertwined with the Commission of Enquiry under the Chief Justice set up by the Governor, whose report was now ready.57 The Commissioners had found no difficulty rejecting the claims made of a conspiracy involving British troops. Nor was the legality of the original arrest of the Greeks questioned. But what they could not approve was the procedure in which the suspects, once the decision had been made to release them, had been taken in custody to a place further away from their homes and then abandoned to their fate. On this matter the Report issued a firm rebuke. Senior Army commanders were infuriated with the conclusions of the Commission. The feeling was summed up by the Commander-in-Chief at Middle Eastern Headquarters, General Sir Roger Bower, who railed that the Report 'failed to underline that the cause of this affair was the unlawful and aggressive movement of Greek armed groups. They appear to be free from blame, though the British Army is to be criticized.'58 The trouble was that Governor Foot had, in his desperation to appease Greek feelings of betrayal at the time, made a firm promise that the Commission's findings would be published in full. Lennox-Boyd now found that commitment 5fl

Minute by Chief of Staff, 25 Aug., 181/17, Box 6, Foot Papers. See 'Report of the Commission of Enquiry into the Incident at Guenyeli on 12 June 1958' in FO3717136288, RGCioi9/63. 58 General Sir Roger Bower to Lennox-Boyd, 5 Aug. 1958, €10926/906. 57

Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, 1954-1959 59

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'very tiresome' —the tone conveyed his attitude to the whole affair. Yet to publish only part of the whole would amount to a blatant 'cooking of the evidence'.60 The issue was sufficiently important that other ministers became involved. The Secretary of State for War complained to Lennox-Boyd that publication would be a breach of faith with the troops, adding strikingly 'that to give chaps [in Cyprus] a long walk home to cool their heels had been found effective and was frequently indulged i n . . . it seems strange that the Governor did not know about it'.61 This deft jibe reflected the fact that relations between the Governor and the Security Forces were entering another bad patch. In the end the full report was published, but only when the heated feelings in the Army had been allowed to die down.62 Well before then the nine Turks had been acquitted, to nobody's real surprise. The mood on i September when the Governor announced that in five days' time he would be returning to London for talks was, therefore, one in which the tension and suspicion were rising on all sides. The announcement of Foot's departure for London was interpreted locally as a signal to Grivas for restraint lest he be about to take the plunge into violence.63 If so, it failed. That same day a senior British Police Officer was shot dead in Ledra Street—the first person to die in that old trouble-spot for eighteen months. A massive clampdown began with a fresh wave of arrests. On 2 September there occurred one of the most famous events of the Emergency: the 'battle of Liopetri'.64 An active EOKA unit had been tracked down to a barn in the village. There was a good deal of shooting lasting over three hours. In the end the barn was set alight. All four Greeks were killed escaping, along with one British soldier. There was, we may mention in passing, a sad testament to frail human qualities in the aftermath of the Liopetri incident. The brother of one of the dead Greeks, an earlier deserter from EOKA who had passed information to the Security Forces, was whisked off to a 'safe house' in the United. Kingdom. He suffered from remorse, and before long he returned openly to his village. Grivas, who never forgave anybody, had him killed. Forgiveness was not much easier for the British. When Belcher saw Foot on 3 September, the Governor said that despite the intervening violence he still intended to go to London for talks, but that the murder of British soldiers made it impossible for him whilst there to raise the matter of Makarios' return.65 Every act of violence in Cyprus made forgiveness and redemption harder to achieve. The reason for Foot's visit to London was straightforward. With the replies of the Greek and Turkish Governments to the 15 August 'revision' received, and only a month to go to the 'appointed day', it was necessary for Her Majesty's Government to decide whether or not to go ahead in the face of all the likely consequences. It was to settle this matter that on 6 September Foot was closeted again with the Prime 59 60 61 62 63 65

Lennox-Boyd, minute, 17 Oct. 1958, ibid. Addis, minute, 22 Aug., FO3717136288, RGCioi9/63. Secretary of State for War to Colonial Secretary, 19 Aug. 1958,00926/906. Lennox-Boyd to Soames, 20 Oct. 1958,00926/906. M Times of Cyprus (i Sept. 1958). Crzv/shzv/, Cyprus Revolt, 315-17. Belcher, note, 3 Sept., Box 3284, RGs9, State Department Records, USNA.

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Minister and Colonial Secretary in 10 Downing Street. Macmillan had already made it quite clear that he saw no alternative to continuing on the present line.66 But on such a grave matter the agreement of the Governor was vital. Sir Hugh argued that 'there were great dangers in going on', but that the risks of retreating from the Plan— especially with regard to the Turks—were greater still.67 Significantly, however, Foot went out of his way to dispel any illusion that what was to be done had anything to do with 'Partnership' as such. 'It was not partnership which was being created', he stated, 'but rather safeguards for the Turks.'68 He also made the frank admission that the 'Representatives' were not desirable in themselves—they were just an essential part of the tactics behind the Plan. It was as if Foot 'the idealist' was prepared to carry on with the scheme, but he was not prepared to swallow its more egregious humbug. Nevertheless, the ministers and the Governor of Cyprus were agreed on the fundamental method of procedure: to make no provocative announcement after the Chequers meeting, and to keep the Cypriot public informed only as the various stages of the Plan were progressively applied, hoping thereby to minimize Greek reactions as events proceeded on their, course. This only brought the discussion, however, up against the 'big problem': whether to let Makarios back into Cyprus. Contrary to what he had previously told Belcher, whose expectations he had not wanted to raise, the Governor pitched in heavily on the side of return. 'There should be no shame in this,' he told Macmillan and Lennox-Boyd in the coded terms which always attached themselves to this question. Macmillan replied that if Makarios went home it would 'be impossible to prevent him making statements, officiating at Church services and generally leading the resistance'.69 A resolution on this matter had to await the meeting of the full Cabinet at Chequers on the following day. This latter deliberation throws light on the press reports of a split in the Cabinet over Cyprus. Those ministers who had been absent when the 'revised offer' of 15 August had been made proceeded to voice their hesitations. In particular, Butler expressed fears about being dragged along in the wake of Turkey, and suggested instead a reversion to the Radcliffe formula of December I956.70 The suggestion itself, however, explains why a revolt never took off inside the Cabinet over Cyprus, since the doubters did not have a credible policy of their own— Radcliffe long since having become a 'dirty word' amongst Greek-Cypriots. When Lord Home, the Secretary of State for Commonwealth Affairs, lamely raised the possibility of a revision of the 15 August revision, Macmillan smacked him down— the policy, he said, 'had to be implemented or abandoned'. That settled it, and ministers rubber-stamped what had already been agreed between Macmillan, Lennox-Boyd, and the Governor. As for Makarios, the exchanges went through the predictable hoops, focusing principally on the difficulties of handling the Archbishop once he was back on home soil. Few were prepared to accept the Governor's 66 67 69

Macmillan to Foot, 29 Aug., (^0926/1069. 68 Record of meeting at 10 Downing Street, 6 Sept. 1958, CO926/1070. Ibid. 7 Ibid. " Record of Cabinet meeting held at Chequers, 7 Sept. 1958,03926/1070.


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contention that he could be locked up again if he proved uncooperative. In the end the conclusion made reflected the essential paralysis of British policy: no final decision about Makarios was to be made until Turkey was consulted. In other words, to let the Turks decide. That decision could only go one way. Menderes and Zorlu rejected the proposition as soon as it was put to them. So much speculation had, meanwhile, built up about Makarios' imminent return, that, when it did not happen, observers were puzzled and sought for reasons to explain it. Foley in the Times of Cyprus blamed it on the opposition of the Colonial Secretary.71 It was true that Lennox-Boyd had not supported Foot in Cabinet. We have seen, too, that whilst Macmillan saw advantages in making use of the Archbishop to soften the 'appointed day', all his own political instincts were against. Yet, in the end it was not the opposition of individual ministers which mattered. The real explanation lay in the unique place which the Archbishop occupied in British demonology during the 'end of empire'. 'In other words', one official in the Colonial Office mused in perhaps the shrewdest observation ever made on this topic,'... if we gave up the Makarios cult, the Greek-Cypriots might well be more ready to do so themselves. But we won't. Even if he doesn't return [to Cyprus] we shall regard him as the leader of the Greek-Cypriot people, and to play politics with him.'72 It was part of the paradox of the Emergency in Cyprus that the British worshipped in their own way before the archiepiscopal cult alongside their principal opponents. Meanwhile, on the eve of his return to Nicosia, and with the major political decisions made, or evaded, Governor Foot met with the Chiefs of Staff and other security experts in Whitehall. He told them plainly that 'in going ahead with the plan... we were ... going to precipitate a crisis. The result of the crisis is unpredictable: it may be civil war, or war between Greece and Turkey, or it may . . . be possible to come through the storm into calmer waters on the other side.'73 The very nature of the plan remained, in the spirit of the 'the Reddaway theory', to heighten the crisis inside Cyprus, not to lessen it, on the grounds that only by bringing things to a head anew could the weakness of Greece and the Greek-Cypriots be exposed. Having warned the military chiefs in London of likely trouble ahead, the 'idealistic' Governor went back to his post to face the coming storm. After 7 September 1958, therefore, the Macmillan Plan gradually ceased to be a mere plan, and took on an air of volatile reality. Voters' rolls were prepared, though it was certain that when it came to an election only Turks would vote. A Commission was set up to make recommendations about separate municipalities—though to make sure that it came up with the desired recommendations, Lennox-Boyd insisted on a Chairman, B. J. Surridge, who was 'one of the old Cyprus hands who understands Cyprus and the Cypriots'.74 (After their subsequent arrival in the island, Surridge 71 73 74

n Times of Cyprus (9 Sept. 1958). Aldridge, minute, 5 Sept. 1958,00926/592. Addis, minute, 9 Sept. 1958,^0371/136289^61019/100. For Surridge's appointment see the material in €0926/805.

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and his two fellow Commissioners had to work in a special section of the main Secretariat building, guarded by an armed member of the metropolitan Birmingham Police Force seconded for the purpose.) Meanwhile, the ticking of the clock continued towards i October when the Turkish Representative arrived on the island. On 9 September Grivas called off his truce. Four days later a British soldier was shot dead in Paphos. In the round-up which followed there were further arrests. By this stage the 'bad summer' of 1958 had taken on a special quality of endlessly recycled fear and bitterness. Nowhere was this more so than in Famagusta. It was here that one jaundiced British intelligence officer wrote home about prevailing security practices that 'you c a n . . . get away with anything in this country as long as you don't leave any bruises', adding that 'everyone in authority has perjured themselves again and again' in order to stifle the allegations of ill-treatment.75 However widespread such abuse may now have become, growing friction on the ground interacted with high politics to bring Anglo-Greek conflict in Cyprus to a new pitch of feeling. When Foot, desperate to deflect this process, asked permission from London to run a propaganda campaign to try to convince Greeks of the benefits of the Macmillan Plan, he was refused on the grounds that it would 'knock the Turkish ball out of the hole'.76 The choice of evils continued to wreak its effects. Outside observers could not but be alarmed at what i October might hold in store. Not least anxious were the Americans. The Eisenhower Administration had accepted that the British could not be hauled off their plan entirely. Anglo-American cooperation in the Middle East had in recent months moved on to a new basis which made any such attempt unlikely. Nevertheless, Secretary of States Dulles instructed the Embassy in London to stress the need to 'move into the opening phase of the plan with less fanfare'.77 Washington went on a Cyprus 'alert' after 18 September when the newly arrived United States Vice-Consul in Nicosia, John Wentworth, was shot four times in his front garden (he survived, but was badly paralysed, and swiftly taken home). The 'fanfare' concerned the prospective arrival of the Turkish delegate. The worst scenario was if this person should be assassinated. Such a possibility worried Foot even more than Dulles, and the District Commissioner in Nicosia vacated his residence—a charming Ottoman structure in the heart of the Turkish quarter—for the use of Ankara's appointee, who, the Governor and his advisers hoped, would stay put there, only making occasional forays across town to Government House.78 This precaution apart, the furthest that the British Government felt able to go in meeting Dulles' concerns was to request the Turkish Ambassador in London to tell his Government that it would be wise that i October should be allowed to pass with the minimum ostentation. When a senior Foreign Office official impressed this on Ambassador Birgi, including the point that a 'discreet escort' 75

'Extracts from Letters from Cyprus, June-August 1958', 8 July 1958, I. W. Martin Papers, Imperial War Museum. 76 Sir John Martin, minute, 24 Sept. 1958,00926/1070. 77 Dulles to US Embassy in London, 8 Sept., Box 3284, RGsg, State Department Records, USNA. 78 Foot to Colonial Office, 19 Sept. 1958,00926/717.


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should accompany the new Turkish arrival into central Nicosia, the Ambassador demurred several times and 'made gestures suggestive of outriders with lances'.79 This curious charade must have made an amusing if ungainly sight, yet it conveyed the sense in which an indubitable Turkish victory was in sight, under the aegis of Britain's continuing administrative responsibility. So high had the stakes become for stability in the eastern Mediterranean that it was always likely, in fact, that some attempt would be made by influential 'neutrals' to deflect events into safer paths. Nor was it surprising that such an attempt should be made by Secretary-General Spaak. With American encouragement, he flew to Athens on 23 September, where he found Karamanlis 'distinctly emotional . . . troubled, anxious, disoriented and bitter' at the prospect of an imminent explosion.80 In these discussions Karamanlis agreed to consider Greek participation in an international conference on the island's affairs provided he was given some assurance that his country's interests would be taken into account. Spaak returned to Paris on the morning of the 24th to put this idea to the NATO Council. It was not one likely to be welcomed by the British delegation, who suspected that Spaak was aiming at the emasculation of British policy even at this late stage. More important than Spaak's, however, was the initiative now taken by Archbishop Makarios. His position at this juncture must be understood. Until some weeks before he had been confident of ultimate victory. For instance, he had told Averoff that the Greeks of Cyprus would triumph in the end 'because we could destroy everything on the island'.81 This was the 'Cretan spirit'—the belief in the long struggle with only one outcome, just as Crete had finally, after much struggle, finally consummated its Hellenic aspirations earlier in the century. By early September, however, Makarios grasped that, if the Greeks might destroy others, they could also destroy themselves. In this regard, the British Plan was no paper tiger. At first Makarios signified only privately to Averoff that he was willing at last to accept the independence solution rather than face such a defeat.82 With i October looming, he decided to go public, and he chose for his instrument the British Labour MP Barbara Castle, then visiting the area. In an interview with Castle in Athens on 24 September he welcomed the idea of an independent Cyprus. But Castle was not perhaps the best medium for Makarios to convey his new flexibility. She had got into hot water for what seemed to be criticisms of the British Army in Cyprus,83 so that using her for this purpose risked confusing different messages. Nor did Makarios' lax protocol help. The very short statement which one of the Archbishop's aides afterwards dropped off at the British Embassy might, one shrewd commentator remarked, just as well have read 'Dear Prime Minister [Macmillan], what I told Barbara Castle goes for you too.'84 Macmillan does not even mention the Makarios-Castle interview in 79 80 81 83 84

A. D. M. Ross, 23 Sept. 1958, FC>37i/i36293,RGCioi 1/14. Roberts to Foreign Office, 24 Sept. 1958^0371/136392^601072/169. K Xydis, Reluctant Republic, 181. Ibid. 235. Crawshaw, Cyprus Revolt, 318. Leslie Finer,'Athens Newsletter', Times of Cyprus (8 Oct. 1958).

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his otherwise voluminous memoirs. Yet, even at the time that interview was seen as a landmark in announcing, albeit in a tart and grudging manner, Makarios' conversion to something other than union with Greece through the just and proper exercise of self-determination. To Her Majesty's Government, however, independence remained what it had been when it was first floated as a possible compromise over Cyprus: that is, 'superficially the most attractive but in practice the worst solution'.85 It was the worst solution because it might stop Enosis, but it would not stop Makarios ruling Cyprus. At NATO Headquarters, therefore, the British representatives sought to brush aside what Makarios had said as 'nothing new'.86 Most irritating to the British side, meanwhile, was Spaak's attempt to mobilize what Ambassador Roberts scathingly termed 'NATO public school sentiment' on behalf of'poor little Greece';87 the Italian delegate was thought to have 'touched bottom' in being moved by such pleas.88 This did not mean that the British and the Turks would do absolutely nothing to help Greece over the 'hump' of i October. A few sops were cast in that direction. The most tangible of these was that Ankara confirmed that its Representative in Cyprus would be their present Consul-General, so obviating a controversial 'arrival'. His prospective functions, however, were to remain the same, whilst the fact that the official concerned was alleged to have connections with TMT only added fuel to Greek flames. Finally, with hours to go, Spaak appealed that some action be taken to avert 'a great human and political tragedy'.89 But other than saying that there was no question of Turkey's Representative becoming co-Governor alongside Foot, Roberts was adamant that he could say nothing in the Council to pacify Spaak's (or anybody else's) lurid fears. So the hours and minutes went by to the new month, and the achievement of a great Turkish goal: getting its foot back into the Cypriot door for the first time since General Wolseley had stepped ashore at Larnaca in 1878 to end centuries of Ottoman occupation. There was one British outpost intimately involved in this burgeoning crisis we have yet to mention: the Embassy in Athens. Poor Sir Charles Peake had previously been driven into nervous collapse (he had died, shortly after retirement, in early April i958).90 His successor, a younger man, avoided this fate, but his position was not easy. Ambassador Allen told Selwyn Lloyd on 25 September that he feared not only the abandonment of NATO by Greece, but 'the ultimate disappearance of the whole regime'.91 His sense of being 'left out in the cold' would have been even more pronounced had he known that this scenario was already being discounted at home; an officer on the Greek desk of the Foreign Office commented on his dispatch that should a military, anti-Communist dictatorship succeed the present regime, it might actually prove 'a more friendly partner over the long85

Higham, minute, 4 Oct. 1958^0926/592. Foreign Office to Roberts, 23 Sept. 1958, FO37I/I36392, RGCi072/67. "7 Roberts to Foreign Office, 29 Sept. 1958, FO37I/I36393, RGCio72/76. Slt 8 Ibid. " Ibid. "" Seep. 138. '" Allen to Foreign Office, 25 Sept. 1958, FO37i/i363i3, RGCio3i9/239. 8(1


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term'. It was in this fashion that, to the genie of partition, there was added that of Greek dictatorship to the permutations of policy-making over Cyprus. Meanwhile, Allen made one recommendation which he thought was vital to preventing a violent Greek response in the immediate future: an unequivocal statement disavowing that the underlying purpose of the Macmillan Plan was indeed to bring about a 'vivisection' of Cyprus. Such a reassurance was rejected at the highest level. It was inevitable that it should be. The whole evolution of the Plan had been larded with such euphemisms as administrative partition, pre-partition, or, in a phrase of Macmillan's redolent of his own obliqueness as a politician, metaphysical partition.93 The clinching factor, however, was that, in order to keep the Turks 'on board', Her Majesty's Government had now given Menderes and Zorlu what they had long demanded: a guarantee in writing that the 'partition pledge' of December 1956 would be honoured. This was meant to be highly secret, but when Barbara Castle visited the Turkish Foreign Office on 17 September she had been told about it.94 In the British Embassy in Ankara this was angrily denounced as a 'very stupid' thing to have done,95 but, of course, it was entirely calculated. Remarkably, Allen in Athens had not been informed from home of a development which so vitally affected his own position. But he made his own deductions from the rejection of his advice. 'If we cannot say', he wrote cryptically to Lloyd, 'that we do not intend that our plan should of itself lead to partition, it would be logical to assume that this is so because we think it likely that it w i l l . . . This, of course, is what the Greeks believe.'96 It was transparently what Allen understood to be the case, and by the same token the impartial historian can come to no other conclusion than that, whatever might have been true when the Macmillan Plan was originally conceived, by early October 1958 it had secreted within it a rolling programme for partition, the realities of which would become plain as one stage followed another. The last week in September was therefore marked by a sense of grim expectation inside Cyprus. Security Forces were at 'action stations', the worst fear of Foot and his military commanders being of an inter-communal flare-up which might prove uncontrollable. Foot's public message to British troops on 24 September had struck Belcher as being a 'pre-battle pep talk'.97 Two days later General Kendrew, travelling between Government House and the Secretariat, narrowly missed assassination when a bomb went off just behind his Humber staff-car, severely wounding a military policeman.98 During the forty-eight hours preceding i October, a sudden surge 92

Barnes,minute, 30Sept. 1958, FO37I/136220, RGiois/25. Rumbold, minute, 2 July 1958, FO37I/I3&37O, RGCio72/4i. 94 Barbara Castle, Fighting AH the Way (London, 1993), p. 297. This information confirmed Castle's view that ministers had lied to Parliament about their Cyprus policy. 95 Stewart to Addis, iSSept. 1958, FO37i/i3634i,RGCio344/3i7. 96 Allen to Foreign Office, 4 Oct. 1958^0371/136313^6^319/243. 97 Belcher, telegram to State Department, 25 Sept. 1958, Box 3284, RG59, State Department Records, USNA. 98 Times of Cyprus (27 Sept. 1958). 91

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of EOKA activity included the wounding of four British servicemen in an ambush. An island-wide general strike gripped the Greek community. On the Wednesday morning of the ist, the capital presented two very different faces. Metaxas Square, the heart of the Greek town, was almost completely deserted as Greeks stayed in their homes. By contrast, Ataturk Square was bursting with crowds who welcomed Kucuk and the new Representative, Isin, as they returned from their ceremonial call on Governor Foot. Army helicopters flew repeatedly overhead to spot signs of trouble. Gradually, as Greeks appeared on the streets in the afternoon, schoolboys paraded, shouting 'Makarios' and—since the two could not now be separated-—'Long Live EOKA'. Security Forces moved quickly to disperse the latter wherever stonethrowing began. Terror, of course, never strikes quite when or where it is expected. Surprise is its biggest attribute. Grivas issued instructions for a staggered build-up of incidents towards i October, and only a progressive acceleration thereafter. It was in line with EOKA's history as an organization essentially aimed at the British that Turks were explicitly ruled out as targets. Two soldiers were gravely wounded by one of the mines which EOKA was now adept at manufacturing. Then on 3 October there occurred an incident which imprinted itself on expatriate minds more than any other in the whole course of the Emergency. That morning an English woman, Mrs Margaret Cutliffe, and her daughter, Catherine, went shopping in Famagusta for Catherine's wedding dress. Miss Cutliffe recalled at the inquest that as they entered Hermes Street from Edward VII Avenue (the names themselves convey the different worlds the island straddled), her mother had commented on 'the peculiar atmosphere' in the town, and the number of people waiting on street corners." They had met a female friend (a German lady married to an English resident) before disappearing into a shop. After browsing Catherine led the way out, heard a commotion, and looked round to see the two older women fall to the ground. Mrs Cutliffe died instantly from gunfire; the friend was seriously wounded. A man was nearby with a pistol on the recoil. After firing a single shot at the daughter, he ran off. Catherine also had the recollection of a Greek passer-by observing, with a grin, the dreadful scene. Amongst the victims of terror, truth is not the least significant. Was it a grin or a grimace that this unidentified witness wore on their face? Who could tell one from the other? Yet the remembrance fixed in most British eyes a general complicity in the crime on the part of the Greeks of Famagusta. Similarly, the reference to a 'peculiar atmosphere' in the town underpinned an assumption that on that Friday morning, in the words of the Times of Cyprus, 'everyone knew something momentous was going to happen'.100 But as that newspaper also pointed out, the peculiar atmosphere really stemmed from the Macmillan Plan itself. Nor would ordinary citizens be milling about if they had known such a crime was imminent. The Mayor of Nicosia issued a statement that 'nobody but a lunatic' might suppose EOKA would hand the British ''" Times of Cyprus (10 Oct. 1958).

">" Ibid.


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such a propaganda coup as the murder of a defenceless woman. Indeed, there is the further twist that Catherine Cutliffe remembered the killer as having blonde hair. Blonde Greek-Cypriots are a rare breed. This led to the supposition on the Greek side that Mrs Cutliffe had been killed by some other nationality, as an agent provocateur, or as a crime of passion. Some months later Foreign Minister Averoff was to assure Selwyn Lloyd that his Government had solid evidence that the culprit had not, indeed, been Greek.101 This is hardly convincing on its own, though his persistence on the point is interesting. Grivas was a 'lunatic' for violence, and he had killed enough people not to draw the line at a middle-aged English lady. Yet the Cutliffe killing both symbolized and intensified the wedge driven between Greek and British feelings in Cyprus. There was another aspect of the shooting in Famagusta, however, which added to the notoriety of the day: the reaction of the Security Forces. For some time Foot had been worried that an incident might trigger at any moment the pent-up feelings in the Army. When news of the shooting came through to Government House, Foot immediately telephoned General Kendrew 'and asked him to do everything possible to hold the troops'.102 Kendrew immediately sent instructions along these lines to the Brigadier Commanding in Famagusta; Foot and the General then flew immediately to the affected town by helicopter. But by the time they arrived discipline within much of the local Security Forces had broken down. A curfew had been implemented and orders given that every Greek male in the vicinity of the shooting be arrested. It quickly became obvious, Foot's own account recorded at the time, that many of the resulting detainees had 'been given a good deal of rough treatment'.103 'About fifty were being given first aid for head wounds', he told Lennox-Boyd of what he found when he got to the main holding area, '. . . and the nurses told me another fifty had already been sent to the hospital.' One of the most perturbing aspects—though this did not emerge till a little later—was that ill-treatment had continued after the detainees had been brought into the encampment.104 Even so, Foot saw enough to issue an injunction to the troops that 'there should be no more of it', and Kendrew personally toured the area to calm things down (the Royal Ulster Rifles being particularly in need of this soothing restraint). Although the War Office in London issued various denials that anything amiss had happened with the Army in Famagusta, the Governor's own telegrams did not try to conceal that a serious breakdown had, in fact, occurred. There were several hundred injured, and two fatalities. A Greek man, according to his wife, had been pulled by severe violence from his home and pushed on to a waiting truck; he was dead on arrival. In addition, a girl of thirteen, Joanna Zacharielou, had been caught up in the melee, suffered a seizure, and died. Very powerful feelings had clearly been aroused by the Cutliffe murder. Apart 101 102 104

Averoff to Lennox-Boyd, 12 Mar. 1959, FO3717144593, RGCioi5/i6. m Foot, telegram to Lennox-Boyd, 4 Oct. 1958, €0926/897. Ibid. Foot, telegram to Lennox-Boyd, 31 Oct. 1958,00926/897.

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from whoever had pulled the trigger, it might be said that nobody had been directly at fault, and yet many people bore some vestige of responsibility, however small. But it was inevitable, too, that the event itself was open to exploitation. In Britain, for example, those diehard Tories who had long taken a close interest in Cyprus increased their activity. Harding was persuaded to write an impassioned article in the Daily Express in which he ascribed 'the blood of our soldiers' wives' to the moral delinquency of the Greek-Cypriots, but above all to Archbishop Makarios, who on the evening of 2 October had broadcast a message to his compatriots to resist the British plan with 'all the means' at their disposal. It was very easy to imply thereby a connection between the broadcast and the killing. Harding went on in his article to castigate the 'criminal folly' of any British Government which might allow the Archbishop to go home. It would be easy to criticixe this outburst. It would have been more dignified to keep at arm's length the political elements who sought to make use of him. But the passions aroused in the United Kingdom were not just on the political right. Fenner Brockway, the radical socialist MP who had often supported the Greek-Cypriots, told a meeting in London's Camden Town that 'those of us who are friends of Cyprus are shocked, shattered and shamed by recent events'. The Cutliffe tragedy had an effect on broad British opinion which was to be highly damaging to the Greek-Cypriot position. That same effect, indeed, seemed set to give a fresh wind to the Macmillan Plan. When on 5 October General Kenneth Darling, who was about to go out to Cyprus to replace Kendrew, had an interview in 10 Downing Street, he found the Prime Minister 'completely relaxed' about the situation.105 'The Greeks were like children,' Macmillan told Darling, 'always altering their minds. He was sorry for them as basically he liked them. He made it clear that he was determined to carry through his policy.' At a Cabinet meeting on the yth, the Premier—motivated according to a civil servant, by Harding's newspaper article—raised the possibility of taking direct punitive action against the Orthodox Church in Cyprus,106 something which had often been thought of, but never yet dared. The most striking evidence of a hardening attitude came the following day when the Colonial Secretary, speaking at the Conservative Party Conference in Blackpool, referred in his speech to Cyprus as an 'off-shore island' of Turkey. This was a very remarkable way to speak of what was still a British colony. Nevertheless, he was roundly cheered. The Party had just turned the corner in the opinion polls, and the Blackpool conference was billed by ministers as the beginning of the long run-in to the election. To this end, every available lever had to be pulled, and Cyprus was just one of those available. Meanwhile, the knock-out victory against EOKA of which Darling and Macmillan spoke at their meeting was, it seemed, the premier's last, best hope of clearing the problem away 'in the lifetime of this Parliament'—a lifetime now of very limited duration. The polarization of emotions in the wake of 1-3 October had also wrought their 1115 1116

General Darling to Mr Darling, 10 Oct. 1958, Darling Papers, Imperial War Museum. Smith, minute, 8 Oct. 1958,03926/962.


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pernicious effects at NATO. On 6 October Ambassador Roberts had milked what publicity he could out of Mrs Cutliffe's fate, not omitting to emphasize that she had been 'finished off on the ground'.107 The German nationality of her wounded companion was useful in trying to bring round the representative from Bonn.108 Roberts' Greek counterpart, for his part, denounced the indiscipline of the British Army in Famagusta. None of this was constructive or, indeed, edifying. Spaak and the Americans tried to edge the Cyprus contestants towards a conference, but this soon got bogged down in arguments about which 'neutral' countries should be invited to attend. Greece, at Makarios' behest, insisted on Norway as a nation with no vested interests in the Mediterranean, but this was unacceptable to Britain. The Archbishop's own indecision became a factor once again. He feared, with some reason, that at any conference the Greek-Cypriot position would now be very weak indeed. It was at his instigation that on 25 October the Greek Government finally pulled out of any negotiations about a multilateral conference. For Spaak this was not unwelcome, since NATO embroilment in the whole matter had become a source of personal humiliation.109 But if the Archbishop was to blame for 'running out' on Spaak, it should also be said that it is most improbable that the British Government would ever have allowed the fate of Cyprus to be sealed under NATO's aegis. When Spaak and Dulles both appealed to Macmillan not to publish a White Paper giving a partisan account of the Paris talks, the document was published anyway on 31 October.'10 It was the Prime Minister's way of blocking off any return to the NATO forum whose uses for him, always suspect, had now run out entirely. The nearer one got to Cyprus, however, the more the necessity to open up escape routes, not block them off, rose to the surface. Recent events had greatly affected Governor Foot. A few days after Cutliffe's murder he told his deputy, Sinclair, that 'it was all very well to go along with the Turks . . . but there can be no solution and probably no peace until eventually we come to an understanding with the Greeks'.111 Belcher was struck by a change of tone when he saw the Governor on the i5th. The Consul gingerly raised with him an article just published in The Economist likening the present plan to a ship setting out on a voyage 'with the Captain [Macmillan] claiming no knowledge of the destination and the crew deeply divided over where they want to go'.112 Foot, to Belcher's surprise, said he not only agreed with the thrust of this piece, but showed the American a cable he had just sent to London saying the same thing a bit more politely. This was not quite 'straight' of the Governor, since he was himself a progenitor of the plan. But as the point grimly foretold within the Colonial Office—that the Cyprus Government would end up enforcing 'pre-partition' at the behest of Turkey, but at the cost of more British 107

10S Roberts to Foreign Office, 6 Oct. 1958, FO37i/i36393,RGCio72/g6. Ibid. Roberts to Foreign Office, 15 Oct. 1958^0371/136394^00072/121. 110 Xydis, Reluctant Republic, 290. 111 Foot to Sinclair, 6 Oct. 1958,181/20,60x7, Foot Papers. 112 Belcher, telegram to State Department, 15 Oct. 1958, Box 3285^659, State Department Records, USNA. 109

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lives —became clearer, the Governor began to suffer from severe withdrawal symptoms. Foot was not the only, or indeed the most important, person being driven to second and third thoughts. So were Turkey's leaders. Although this was ultimately to be the key to unblocking the Cypriot impasse, at first it was scarcely visible. During the exchange of Anglo-Greek insults in NATO on 6 October, for example, it was noticeable that the Turks slid once more discreetly into the background, as had once been their wont. Towards the end of the NATO talks, Ambassador Roberts was also puzzled by the more pliant Turkish attitude, warning the Foreign Office that Spaak 'should realize that his troubles may now be in London, rather than in Athens or Ankara'."4 In fact it is not hard in retrospect to see why Menderes and Zorlu were already engaging in the preliminary stages of a fundamental reassessment of their Cyprus policy. As soon as i October dawned, Turkey had gained the essence of her requirement in the island: a stake in its government. The fact that, contrary to many dire predictions, Greece had not done something drastic to try to prevent this meant it was indeed irreversible. Turkey had not yet got, it was true, a geographical partition of the island. But then Ankara, through its orchestration of violence during June, had sought to instigate a de facto partition, and had drawn the lesson that, although they could draw blood, they might not win that game in the end, given the demographic and social realities within the island. Above all, the effects of the Iraq Revolution were still working their way through Middle Eastern politics in ways which induced a new vulnerability in the Turkish position. In short, the moment was approaching when the most sensible thing to do for Turkey was to take their Cyprus profits whilst they could. This might involve ditching the Macmillan Plan; but then they had never been amongst its admirers, and only accepted it as a pis aller, and as a favour to the British. These were the processes of Turkish thought which imperceptibly opened up a trap-door under Prime Minister Macmillan and his Plan. Before any of this showed itself more clearly, nonetheless, international attention turned to the United Nations, where the affairs of Cyprus were once more to be subjected to rhetorical combat. Where Cyprus was concerned, discussion at the United Nations and local violence usually went together. During what became known as 'Black October1 forty-five people were killed and 370 injured. These included six British civilians, and ten soldiers. These losses continued into November. When an expatriate employee of Barclays Bank was killed in Nicosia on 7 November, he was the fourth British civilian to die in a few days. Nerves in the unofficial British community were jangled, and were not much assuaged by the Governor's attendance at various gatherings intoning that 'we are all in this together'.115 Powerful currents on the British side were unloosed on 8 November when a bomb exploded in a NAAFI canteen at Nicosia airfield killing 111 115

Seep. 276. "4 Roberts to Foreign Office, 23 Oct. 1958^0371/136412^0(^1076/23. Times of Cyprus (9 Nov. 1958).


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two soldiers and wounding seven others. The Chief of the Royal Air Force in Cyprus, Sir Hubert Patch, who was with Foot when the news broke, immediately demanded that all Greek-Cypriot employees of NAAFI be dismissed. Foot demurred, wanting only to lay them off for a month, whilst the problem of NAAFI security was examined.116 General Darling, now at his post, supported Patch, and the Governor reluctantly caved in. Over 300 Greeks were sacked, and under an emergency recruitment scheme several hundred replacements were flown from the United Kingdom, happy to leave home for the sunny clime highlighted in the advertisement. This decision was defended in public on security grounds, but everyone knew it was meant to be a punishment for the Greek community at large; but as the Colonial Office wistfully observed, the decision could not fail to be interpreted elsewhere as a final 'retreat behind barbed wire' by the British, and that 'we regarded the whole local population as potentially hostile'.117 By the closing weeks of 1958 a de facto military enclave was already coming into existence, cut off in almost every way from the general life of Cyprus. Nevertheless, from these hermetically sealed compartments the British Army could still launch its attacks on EOKA. But these were not to be like the old, scattergun offensives of the Harding era. A new strategy was in the making which Kendrew had initiated, but which Darling pushed several stages further. This was much more intelligence driven, and based on the principle, as Darling himself put it, of'softly, softly, catchee monkey'.118 An example was the practice of small but effective 'night patrols' in which British units in rubber-soled boots silently padded their way through Cypriot towns looking for suspects. On the intelligence side, the Colonial Secretary himself had recommended to Darling before he left for the island the services of John Prendergast, Head of Special Branch in Kenya, who very quickly found himself heading up the 'information' structure in Cyprus; Darling later described Prendergast as 'the key to the box of tricks'.119 The key trick was to get Grivas. The Security Forces reckoned they were closer to him than ever. Proof of this had come when, on 11 November, EOKA's chief lieutenant, Kyriakis Matsis, was killed in a shoot-out near Kyrenia. It was made clear in London that the Security Forces should get whatever they needed to finish off the job. Prime Minister Macmillan took a personal interest in the provision of bullet-proof jackets120—every dead British soldier from this point on was a growing political liability—whilst the junior Colonial Office minister, John Profumo, oversaw a special executive to speed up the flow of military material to the island. 'We are turning up the pressure,' Darling wrote at the end of November, following a visit by the Chief of the Imperial General Staff, General 116 117 118

P-I3119

Foot, telegram to Colonial Office, 10 Nov. 1958,00926/898. Martin, minute, 3 Dec. 1959,03926/1018. 'Cyprus: The Last Round, November igsS-March 1959', Darling Papers, Imperial War Museum,

Ibid. 7. Belcher to State Department, 12 Nov. 1958, Box 3285, RGs9, State Department Records, USNA. 120

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Sir Francis Festing. Indeed, one veteran later recalled that his regiment—the Blues and Royals—was more 'operational' at this stage than at any point in the entire conflict. 122 The odd man out on the British side in this gathering military hubris was Sir Hugh Foot. He was not at all in his element. The man who had once walked and smiled his way through central Nicosia now went about under security at least as tight as that which had surrounded his predecessor. Apart from the ongoing violence, two imminent developments depressed him further. One was the fact that the report of the Commission on Municipalities was ready for publication, and that when it appeared, all the Greek-Cypriot suspicions about partition were sure to be confirmed. The second was even more sensitive. If Foot had been unlucky, so far he had been spared one thing at least: he had not had to hang anybody. Now two mandatory death sentences were about to land on his desk for confirmation. He spoke of his worries on these points to Belcher and solicited American help, requesting that they should not identify who their 'source' was. 12 ' We saw that Harding's most frantic political moves normally overlapped with executions. Foot now emulated this pattern, calling on London for a 'Peace Initiative' from early December. In a hard-hitting dispatch on the 8th he identified three jams in which the British were caught. The first was Makarios, on whose behalf, he argued, there was a lot to be said for bringing him to Nicosia to help cool things down, but 'nothing whatsoever to be said' for leaving him to fester in Athens surrounded by poisonous forces.124 The second was the failure to kill the accusation that the Plan was simply a plot to ease partition into place. Foot's third 'jam', however, represented a critical change of his own position: he now advised that independence 'is surely the right answer. I believe that independence guaranteed by a tripartite treaty . . . is the way things should go and indeed the way that things will go', and he regretted the fact that the British Government had already gone as far as they had to block its evolution. 125 This call for help met with no more of a response in London than any other which had been made from Government House over the preceding five years. Sir John Martin minuted to the Colonial Secretary that Foot was 'in too much of a hurry', and that time had to be allowed both for Darling's military approach to come to fruition, and 'to make further progress with the Turkish side of our policy'.126 On 12 December Macmillan—who on that day made a 'holding statement' about Cyprus in the Commons, in which the courage of British troops was pushed to the forefront—indicated that he did not wish to see any 'dramatic new initiative'. 127 The temptation to stand out for the military victory which Darling, like Harding before him, promised was just 'around the corner', remained compelling. Yet, it was precisely the 'Turkish 12 121 General Darling to 12 12 12 12 12

Mr Darling, 30 Nov. 1958, Darling Papers. Imperial War Museum. J. N. P. Watson, The Story of the Blues and the Royals (London, 1993), P- I0 ^Belcher, telegram to State Department, 5 Dec. 1958, ibid. Foot to Melville, 8 Dec. 1958, €0926/630. '"Ibid. Martin to Lennox-Boyd, 8 Dec. 1958, €0926/592. Macmillan to Lennox-Boyd, 11 Dec. 1958, ibid.


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side of our policy' which had begun to creak at the seams. The first clearly visible cracks opened up at the United Nations during the debates which went on from 25 November to 4 December. In their respective statements, neither the Greek nor the Turkish delegations actually shifted from their often-stated positions. But a new mood was detectable, so that Zorlu referred to Averoff at one point as 'my friend', whilst Averoff said that he could see 'rays of hope' in at least some of Zorlu's statements. Britain's representative, Commander Noble, was left going through his mechanical and sterile motions. On the evening of 4 December a colourless Iranian resolution on Cyprus was adopted to nobody's real interest. But what followed this ritual was to be of the utmost importance. Dejected and exhausted by the circular debate, Averoff and his team were briefing reporters in the corridor. Suddenly Averoff saw Zorlu heading straight for him.128 Half-expecting some rudeness, the Greek minister made ready with a suitably tart reply. 'Congratulations for the fight you put up,' Zorlu said, however, in the most genial manner he could muster. In the short exchange which ensued—conducted in French—Zorlu argued that the Greeks and the Turks were both 'wasting their talents' on a petite politique, when they should both be following a grande politique, and when asked what this meant, he said that petite politique was interminable wrangling about a small and relatively unimportant island, whereas grande politique would lead swiftly to peace and reconciliation. 'Should we meet?' Zorlu then asked, and in these three words the Turkish minister gouged out a little, but potentially fatal, hole in the bottom of the Macmillan Plan which, according to the metaphor in The Economist, was already listing badly and sinking ominously lower in the water. The factors which underpinned a reconstruction of Turkish priorities have already been mentioned. By early December 1958 these were compounded by a more general foreign policy crisis generated by a confrontation of the superpowers over the status of Berlin. On 27 November President Khrushchev of the Soviet Union issued a stiff challenge to the western powers over that issue. As a NATO member who shared a long border with the Soviets, this was a cause of intense concern to Turkey. Changing calculations in Ankara as to the acceptable level of risks associated with its Cyprus policy are all the more comprehensible against this background. When Zorlu and Averoff met in the Delegates Lounge at the United Nations Building on 6 December, furthermore, they did not invite Commander Noble to join them. British pique at their exclusion was summed up in the barbed description of the 'Turkish delights' exchanged between the two Foreign Ministers.129 Although Zorlu and Averoff were, in fact, still far from agreeing on details, they quickly established common ground in the preference for an independent Cyprus which did not threaten anybody's regional interests, whilst taking account of the rights of the majority. Such a broad formula, of course, hid many pitfalls. Both men had to go back to their governments, where very different views might prevail on what independence in Cyprus 128 129

Xydis, Reluctant Republic, 337-8; Averoff, Lost Opportunities, 294-6. Ross, minute, 15 Dec. 1958, FO37I/I3&3I4, RGCio3iQ/28o.

294

/ fa ly~4 December 1958

should mean. Karamanlis and Averoff had to square Archbishop Makarios—something they had not yet been able to, or dared, do. Then there was the problem of the British, who, as the Macmillan Plan personified, did not have a grande politique of their own, if only because they had lost the leverage within the island on which to base a truly positive strategy, and were left clinging to a petite politique as the onlymeans of maintaining a fragile hold over affairs. At the same time the erratic course of violence in Cyprus went on. But, despite all these doubts and difficulties, the beginning of the end of 1958 suddenly brought with it a hopefulness which even a few weeks before would have been hard to imagine.

II A Promised Land?, 5 December 1958-19 March 1959 It was a characteristic of British policy-making during the Emergency that any surge of'hopefulness' was regarded with suspicion—something to curb, even reverse, not to encourage. This had been the case with the air of hope—or the 'first fine careless rapture'—which had accompanied the release of Archbishop Makarios. Such a reflex did not arise so much from ill-will as from the very weakness of the position occupied by the British, for whom the status quo—for all its travails and tragedies— was better than most likely alternatives; better, for example, than a settlement hurriedly brokered by other people which might pay scant regard to the United Kingdom's strategic interests or to the political needs of Her Majesty's Government. The same negative impulse expressed itself when, in the wake of the tentative Averoff-Zorlu demarche, it was suggested that further progress might be helped if the British Cabinet authorized the current high level of activity by the Security Forces to be scaled down. Allen advised from Athens that the British themselves 'might have more to gain politically than we would lose militarily' by such a gesture.1 'A very bad idea,' Macmillan asserted, and the general mood in London—still shaped by the high emotions of October and November 1958—was one in which the temptation of a knock-out victory against EOKA remained intense.2 Nowhere can hope have been more welcome than among the two men—Costas Constantinides (aged 27) and Yiannakis Athanassiou (aged 23)—who occupied the condemned cell at Nicosia Central Prison. On 16 December their cases came before the Governor and his Executive Council for confirmation. For Foot it must have been a defining moment. Had he extended clemency as the Queen's representative he would undoubtedly have brought his relations with the Army to a point of crisis. There is no indication that he seriously contemplated doing so. 'I remember saying to myself that day', he recalled in his memoirs, referring to his relations with Greek opinion, 'that I was signing my own political death warrant.'3 In all the circumstances, these executions had to be carried out quickly to minimize the after-effects. A full brigade of troops was thrown around the prison gates and security throughout the island tightened up. At 6.20 p.m. on Wednesday the iyth Foot telegraphed the Colonial Office that the executions would take place in the early hours.4 He then went to see Belcher, as he usually did at his worst moments, and gave him a 'lugubrious 1 1 3 4

Allen to Ross, 5 Dec. 1958^0371/136313^0010319/259. F. Richards, minute, 11 Oct. 1958, FO371/136314, RGCio3i9/274. Hugh Foot, A Start in Freedom (London, 1964), p. 178. See material in 00926/1090.

296

5 December rg^8~jg Anarch ig$g

estimate of the [Greek] reaction', but no indication of any last-minute reprieve.5 Having returned to Government House, Foot did not go to bed, and instead lay down on a sofa in his office, since he knew that as soon as the executions were confirmed as having taken place, there would be things to do/' There was not much time for any appeals on behalf of the condemned. A Greek official went to the Foreign Office in London with a personal message to Selwyn Lloyd from Karamanlis that the carrying out of the sentences would have 'very serious repercussions' and would be taken as proof that Her Majesty's Government 'did not wish for an agreement on Cyprus'.7 Athenian appeals in these instances had never been effective in the past. Nor was the similar call made by Aneurin Bevan on Lennox-Boyd likely to get far. News of what was about to happen caused a flurry at NATO, where Foreign Ministers had arrived two days before for a Council meeting. Averoff saw Lloyd and pleaded for a commutation, receiving the standard response that the royal prerogative lay solely with the Governor.s At this point, however, a remarkable development occurred. Zorlu went first on his own to see Lloyd to advocate mercy, and then again in Averoff's company to do the same. Their message— that if the hangings proceeded, they would find it impossible to continue their conciliatory discussions—was all the more powerful for being voiced jointly and in person. This Greco-Turkish embassy to the British Foreign Secretary made all the difference, since if it emerged that the two Greek-Cypriots had been hanged against the combined wishes of both Greece and Turkey, virtually the whole case which Her Majesty's Government had so precariously built up over the course of years would come crashing down. The utmost speed was required to avert a major public relations disaster. The quickest thing to do was to telephone Nicosia. But the line to the eastern Mediterranean was erratic, and a bad crackle might even lead to a misunderstanding. A telegram was therefore dispatched under urgent cypher, retailing what had happened in Paris to make a reprieve so desirable, but in which Macmillan and Lennox-Boyd nevertheless assured the Governor that 'if you feel it your duty to go on, we shall support you as loyally as ever'.9 Foot was still moping in his office when a telephone call from the Colonial Office came through close to midnight. It was picked up by Mrs Foot in the family quarters, leaving Sir Hugh to rush across the residency. Lennox-Boyd explained that there had been trouble getting through, but explained the situation again (the telegram, it seems, was still lying unread somewhere in the Secretariat). Foot records he had 'no difficulty in deciding' about the matter once he put down the receiver.10 This is almost certainly an understatement, though the ministerial promise of loyal support 5

Belcher, telegram to State Department, 17 Dec. 1958, Box 3285, RG59, State Department Records, USNA. '' Foot, A Start in Freedom, 179. 7 Ross, minute, 17 Dec. 1958^0371/136292^001019/159. * Evangelos Averoff, Lost Opportunities. The Cyprus Question, 7950-67 (New York, 1986), p. 344. '' Macmillan and Selwyn Lloyd to Foot, 17 Dec. 1958, 00926/1090. '" Foot, A Start in Freedom, 179-80.


297

if he proceeded had the nice effect of throwing on to him the full responsibility for the decision. Foot had no time to worry about such nuances. He first called for an escort and then, at 11.50 p.m., got the Director of Nicosia Prison—who also, of course, was up and about his business—on the telephone. Foot's memoirs record the following conversation: GOVERNOR. I'm coming down to see you. DIRECTOR. Could you give me half an hour? GOVERNOR. What do you mean by that? DIRECTOR. It will all be over in half an hour. GOVERNOR, (shouting) No, you don't understand, I'm coming down to stop it.11 The Governor arrived at the Prison—which he found illuminated rather eerily by the arc lights of the troops—at 12.10 a.m. He went straight to the cells of Constantinides and Athanassiou, since the royal pardon could only be extended in person by the Governor, not by a Prison official. Foot found the two men being ministered to by an Orthodox priest. After he told them that they were to be spared, they tried to kiss his hand. Sir Hugh simply took theirs, shook them, and withdrew. By what Foot called some 'strange telepathy' the whole building, which had been in its usual uproar, fell into an absolute silence.12 This episode had about it the quality of authentic melodrama. The ending, however, was not entirely happy. EOKA's communications were even less reliable than those of the Colonial Office. Grivas had sent out an order for reprisals on the assumption that the executions had been confirmed. Early on 20 December two British airmen in the remote Karpass peninsula went to collect their rations at a depot. Their truck was blown apart by a bomb, killing them instantly. As it happened, they were the last British servicemen to die during the troubles. In truth, the hand which Constantinides and Athanassiou should rightfully have kissed was that of Zorlu. The de facto pardon had been his. That this did not become known beyond a very small circle was because the Turkish Foreign Minister insisted. This was embarrassing for Foot, since, as he complained to the Colonial Office, it meant that it looked as if he had made 'one decision on the Tuesday, and another on the Wednesday night, leaving it to the very last moment to change my mind without any obvious reason for the change'.1' The impression Foot worried about, and wanted to refute, was the personal one of 'playing with men's lives', though quite likely also he would have much preferred to have had an 'explanation' to use with the discontented Security Forces. The vibrations emanating from the latter continued, indeed, to have an echo at home. The reprieves were strongly criticized in some Conservative quarters, and ministers were informed that another stern letter from Harding was on its way to the Daily Express. The Colonial Secretary had to intervene quickly by telling the Field-Marshal in a telephone conversation that it was 'quite impossible for Foot or anybody else to disclose the circumstances' surrounding the 11

Ibid.

l2

Ibid.

" Foot, telegram to Lennox-Boyd, 18 Dec. 1958,00926/1090.

298

5 December ig$8-ig March ig$g 14

commutation. Lennox-Boyd disclosed enough, however, so that Harding did not put pen to paper on this occasion. Arguably, the most important effect of these events was that, as Averoff reminisced about his relations with Zorlu, they 'greatly strengthened the personal bond between us'. 15 On this mutual bond a great deal yet depended. The role of capital sentences in this account has sporadically assumed a key importance. It is a gloomy subject we can now leave aside, except to say that the story of the reprieves of 17 December 1958 captured in small scale some of the curious dynamics, but also the ambivalences, which were to accompany the dying phases of the Cyprus Revolt. The choreographic feel to the interchanges between Zorlu and Averoff over Cyprus whilst they were in Paris was mirrored in the wider political uncertainty which gripped British reactions. The unlikely Greco-Turkish couple, for example, was described by the United Kingdom delegation as 'taking every opportunity to convey... the appearance o f . . . rapprochement', disappearing alone into rooms, and cleaving ostentatiously to each other at social functions. l6 Selwyn Lloyd was left feeling a bit like the proverbial 'gooseberry', reduced to asking 'with a touch of irony whether the British might be allowed to know what was being hatched-up for their colony'.17 The Turks drove this little stiletto into the British rib even more exquisitely than the Greeks. When the Turkish Ambassador in London gave the Foreign Office an outline of'the Paris sketch' for a Cyprus solution which Averoff and Zorlu had produced during their NATO dalliance, including the information that Greece and Turkey would enjoy 'specially privileged positions' in Cyprus thereafter, he was deliberately obscure in responding to the enquiry whether the United Kingdom would be 'similarly privileged'.1S Nor did he offer to leave behind the text from which he had read. The frustration of this is not to be underestimated. It arose from what, in the complicated psychology of British decolonization, was a very basic assumption: that Her Majesty's Government should stay in control throughout the process of arranging the new dispensation. Cyprus had been selected as one colony where British interests should preponderate in determining whatever outcome finally emerged. Out of the blue it seemed that it might provide a very different kind of precedent. The complex details of Greco-Turkish diplomacy can only be skated over here.19 Ambassador Roberts at NATO headquarters reckoned that Averoff and Zorlu saw an opportunity 'to go down in history as the men who had re-established Turco-Greek relations on the basis of [the] understanding originally due to Ataturk and Venizelos'.20 There was a tangible re-creation of the 'Great Rapprochement' 14

l5 Smith, minute, 18 Dec. 11)58, ibid. Averoff, Lost Opportunities, 31$. "' Jebb, telegram to Foreign Office, i8Dcc. 1958^0371/136410^01077/1. 17 Averoff, Lost Opportunities, 312. 111 Ross, minute, 23 Dec. 1958, FO3/I/I35542, RGCi0344/337. '"' See Stephen Xydis, Cyprus: Reluctant Republic (The Hague, 1973), pp. 337 460. 2(1 Roberts to Foreign Office, igDec. 1958^0371/136410^001077/3.


299

after 1922 in this drawing together of the Greek and Turkish positions over Cyprus in late 1958. In this process Averoff and Zorlu were naturally working in close tandem with their own Prime Ministers. Karamanlis and Menderes shared, indeed, certain basic traits in common. Both were instinctive 'modernizers'. Karamanlis wanted more than anything else to be able to devote himself to the acute social and economic problems inside metropolitan Greece. Menderes' driving ideal was similarly to raise up the living standards of the Turkish countryside. For that he was loved by the peasantry—but not by the bourgeoisie and the Army, from whom scarce resources were diverted. Karamanlis often said he was bored by Cyprus. The same was true of Menderes. But they were both driven along by the atavistic logic of the Cyprus question within their own political cultures, just as British governments were the prisoners of their own special blend of nostalgia and prestige. The distinctive quality of late 1958 and early 1959 derived from the expectation of a shared Turco-Greek escape from these crippling restraints. It was an expectation for which Averoff and Zorlu simply became for a time the chief diplomatic executors. Yet this undercurrent was very difficult to bring into full flow. Fear and loathing had been aroused at many levels. These forces could all too easily infect the detail which any negotiated settlement had to grapple with. What was to be the relationship of the two separate communal chambers to the unitary assembly which Averoff and Zorlu (unlike Macmillan) had agreed was necessary for a stable polity? A treaty of alliance between the putative Republic of Cyprus, on the one hand, and Greece and Turkey, on the other; an additional treaty between Greece, Turkey, and the United Kingdom guaranteeing the integrity and basic structure of the new state; the distribution of civil service jobs; the question of whether Greece and Turkey should have military contingents on the island—all these matters were controversial, and any one of them might finally make an agreement impossible. The most basic issue of all was suggested when Zorlu told Selwyn Lloyd in Paris that, as far as he was concerned, what was under consideration 'was not really independence .. . The island must be Turkish-Greek, not Greek or Cypriot.'21 In short, what was at stake were the realities behind future Cypriot statehood. The task of fitting together Greek and Turkish requirements was therefore daunting enough even without taking account of British needs. There was a legitimate anxiety in London that they would end up with the short straw. The question was, how short? In one respect the British position was not as bad as it might have been. It was always assumed in the Averoff-Zorlu exchanges that the United Kingdom would retain bases in an 'independent' Cyprus. If possession was not quite nine-tenths of the law in this case, it was a good slice of it. In the end, whatever Greece and Turkey hatched up between them, the United Kingdom as the sovereign power in Cyprus had to agree to cede her title. Indeed, without an assurance that the British were prepared to do so, there was no point Athens and Ankara carrying on their talks; they might just as well get back to trying to bash each other on the head. On 23 December 21

Jebb to Foreign Office, 18 Dec. 1958^0371/136410^61077/1.

300

5 December 1958—19 March 1959

Averoff, therefore, sought a clear statement from Her Majesty's Government that they would accept an independent Cyprus should the other powers reach an accord on that basis. This was not an easy assurance to give. On the one hand there was a danger, as the British Embassy in Ankara warned, that events might begin to move very swiftly—too swiftly for the British to exercise any control.22 Yet, to refuse such a blessing was to accept a very grave responsibility. The Cabinet retreated into a certain haziness, promising a 'fair wind' to the talks, without saying how far they might allow that wind eventually to carry them. At the same time ministers decided to reestablish the committee of officials under the Cabinet Secretary, Sir Norman Brook, which in the spring of 1957 had been set up to examine what the United Kingdom's 'essential interests' were in the island, but which had since gone into hibernation. A 'fair wind', meanwhile, had to be sufficient for Averoff's purposes. On 27 December Allen told Selwyn Lloyd from Athens that the Greek Government was sending a special envoy, Georgios Pezmoglou, to Ankara with instructions which might lead to very rapid developments (Pezmoglou, symbolically, was a Turkish-speaking Constantinopolitan Greek who, as a young man, had enjoyed a friendship with Ataturk). 2 ' In other decolonizations—above all, in India—the British had often used the factor of speed to keep control of the denouement in their hands. In Cyprus a rapid pace threatened to work to the advantage of other people. Deeply unsure of their own footing, the instinct of British ministers was therefore to attempt to slow things down, or at least to do nothing to assist their acceleration in new directions. The continuation of the Macmillan Plan was crucial to preserving some leverage over events. This presupposed, however, the maintenance of the recent increase in security operations, which was why Macmillan impressed on Lennox-Boyd that both Foot and Darling 'should be quite clear that they must continue to prosecute the anti-terrorist campaign with the greatest determination and efficiency'.24 The essential point was put a shade more frankly in the Foreign Office, where it was observed that 'it is not necessarily to our advantage that there should be a quiet time in Cyprus during the [Greco-Turkish] discussions'.25 Behind this logic lies an explanation as to why a certain resilient belligerency was to colour official British attitudes right to the end of our account. It was a belligerency which at bottom was not so much innately aggressive as a reflection of the underlying weakness of the British position under Cypriot conditions, a weakness which in late 1958 became blindingly obvious. Yet to others the pattern of behaviour which resulted did not make a very appealing spectacle. Meanwhile, however, Governor Foot's reactions were rather different. For him, the Greco-Turkish developments were manna from Heaven. He wanted to build on the easing of the atmosphere secured through the recent reprieves by releasing from prison some at least of those who had been arrested during 'Operation Matchbox'. Lennox-Boyd delicately warned him in the 22 21 24 25

Ankara Embassy to Foreign Office, 26 Dee. 1958, FO37I/I36459, RGioyy/i i. For the role played by Pezmoglou see Xydis, Reluctant Republic, 359 67, 372-85. Macmillan to Lennox-Royd, 26 Dee. 1958,02926/938. Ross, minute, 28 Dee. 1959, £"0371/136285, RGCioi8/47.


301

newly improvised official code that 'we were not necessarily in a honeymoon period', pointing out that the military situation in Cyprus might soon become much worse, in which case any freed suspects would have to be swiftly re-arrested.26 It said something of the sense of relief felt by the Governor that he decided to go ahead anyway, telling the Colonial Secretary that even if things went into reverse, he could hardly arrest people 'simply because they had been in detention before'.27 Five hundred and twenty-seven Greek-Cypriots left the camps in the days before Christmas. In this season of goodwill even Grivas joined in the present-giving: on 24 December leaflets circulated in Nicosia declaring another truce. The Governor told Belcher when they met that evening that it was the 'most encouraging day I've had since coming here'.28 A few days later Foot went riding in the countryside with only a small escort. It was a time for gestures once more. He even celebrated the New Year by paying a call on the Bishop of Kitium—notable for being the first official contact between a leading Government figure and the Orthodox Church since Makarios' deportation. Foot, however, knew he was very far from being completely out of the Cypriot wood. There were two publications looming which together were likely to bring the Macmillan Plan into direct collision with Greco-Turkish reconciliation. These were the Surridge Report on separate municipalities, and the electoral bill relating to communal chambers. Both of them were central planks in the Macmillan Plan, and would necessarily press the Greek-Cypriot face to the wall once more. The Governor had originally supported immediate publication, but had changed his mind, and with some difficulty persuaded London to delay the electoral bill until 15 January, and the Surridge document—more explosive still—until i February. With Pezmoglou in Ankara, however, it was apparent at the start of the New Year that these actions would jeopardize the extremely fragile negotiations between Greece and Turkey. On 4 January Foot sent an earnest message to Lennox-Boyd in which he admitted that it was 'impossible to see all the game' from Nicosia, but stressed the danger 'if we could plausibly be accused of wrecking the best chance of an amicable settlement that has yet appeared', adding for good measure that they had an 'overriding obligation' not to upset the apple-cart being pushed uphill by the Greeks and Turks.29 His request that the draft legislation be further delayed was, however, turned down. Shortly after the Governor gave a radio broadcast in which he reiterated that there would be 'no bargain with violence'. Consul Belcher complained that it would have been better for Foot 'not to have spoken at all when people are hoping for so much if all he could say was the same old line.3" The truth was, however, that there were strict limits as to how far Foot could venture beyond the parameters laid down by his own political masters. 26

Lennox-Boyd to Foot, 22 Dec. 1958,00926/872. Foot to Lennox-Boyd, 22 Dec. 1958, ibid. Belcher, telegram to State Department, 25 Dec. 1958, Box 3285, RGS9, State Department Records, USNA. 29 Foot, telegram to Colonial Office, 4 Jan. 1959,00926/805. 30 Belcher, telegram to State Department, 14 Jan. 1959, Box 3286, RGsg, State Department Records, USNA. 27

28

302

j December i g^S—i 9 March 1 959

In fact, the electoral bill was actually coming off the Cyprus Government presses when Zorlu told the new British Ambassador in Ankara, Sir Bernard Burrows, on 14 January that, in the light of the meeting he was about to have with Averoff, the publication should again be deferred.31 Just as it was impossible to proceed with capital sentences in the case of condemned Greeks against Turkish advice, so, in reality, it was impossible to proceed with the local arrangements of the Macmillan Plan once the Turks expressed a contrary view. Macmillan and Lennox-Boyd made another attempt to push through these publications at the end of January, but had to give way in part due to the Governor's plea that the effect would be to reignite communal disorders, but also because Ankara intervened once more to keep the process of conciliation alive. The final, and highly reluctant, ditching of these legislative enactments constituted, in fact, the end of the road for the Macmillan Plan; though as we shall see some of the substance embedded in them was to find its way into the final settlement of Cypriot independence. This seemingly inveterate truculence emanating from London continued to excite suspicion. Averoff said that during all this time he was more worried about the British than he was about the Turks, and feared that London would 'torpedo any agreement [Greece] reached with the Turks rather than abandon full sovereignty'-" Significantly, similar things were said on the Turkish side. The Turkish Ambassador in Athens asked his American counterpart, for example, on 14 January whether the British 'seriously desired a settlement, saying this was the case a year ago, but some British higher-ups seem to have changed their mind'." Since the Americans were straining every political muscle to push Greece and Turkey towards an agreement, allegations of British obstructionism caused them real concern. Instructed from Washington — where Christian Herter was acting in place of Dulles, stricken by cancer —-to give an opinion, the United States Embassy in London concluded that the British Government had contributed to the process of reconciliation by reprieving the condemned men, postponing the publication of the Surridge report, and releasing detainees. What the Embassy did not know was that the first two of these had involved Turkish instigation, and the third was the initiative of Governor Foot. Macmillan and Lennox-Boyd were not, in fact, bent on subverting any agreement which abandoned British sovereignty. Nevertheless, imprisoned by their own domestic political timetable, they were determined to retain the option of preventing any settlement of the Cyprus dispute which could not be credibly represented as, in Macmillan's crucial phrase, 'a symbol of our success'. A parallel debate went on inside the Cyprus administration. Deputy Governor Sinclair echoed the general feeling of expatriate officials in denouncing the 'dangerous step' taken by the British Government in allowing the Averoff-Zorlu talks to continue, and their resentment that this had been done without consultation with the •" Burrows, telegram to Sclvvyn Lloyd, 14 Jan. 1959, FO37I/I44639, RGCiovS/S. i2 Roberts to Foreign Office, 21 Jan. 1959, FO371/I44639, RGCio73/6. " Berger (US Embassy, Athens) to State Department, 15 Jan. 1959, Box 3286, RG.sg, State Department Records, USNA.


303

Cyprus authorities.34 Foot tried to deflect such sentiments by stressing to Sinclair that the Plan had always been 'a means to an end and not an end in itself'.35 But what, from the narrow vantage-point of British officialdom on the island, had the Plan been all about? Some outsiders alleged that what was really at stake were the jobs of the officials themselves, for whom the Plan meant at least seven more years of pensionable employment. This was a recurrent line in the Times of Cyprus, and indeed echoed a theme in Greek-Cypriot nationalism which long predated the Emergency. Since Averoff and Zorlu were themselves haggling over the carve-up of the future Cypriot civil service, there is nothing much to wonder at that those who currently held these positions were indeed worried about their own personal futures. During the Emergency there had been a big increase in the expatriate payroll, and for younger recruits especially the future was by no means certain—positions were hardly easy to come by elsewhere in the contracting British colonial services. Older officials had a different personal and emotional situation. For Reddaway, the struggle in which he had become so intensely caught up had a strong personal colouring, but that colouring was much more to do with a vision, heavily laced with prejudice, of past ideals and engagements, than with anything which could be measured in cash. Nevertheless, Governor Foot had quite properly to take into consideration the dilemmas of Government employees for whom the Greco-Turkish demarche looked as if it might deprive them of employment much more rapidly than anyone had so far anticipated. Foot took up this point with the Colonial Office, arguing that special Cypriot circumstances meant that any transition to independence should be spread over a five- to seven-year period. 'We owe that to the Cypriots,' Foot stated, but added more pointedly still, 'and we owe it to ourselves.'36 There was another, still more weighty drag anchor at work on the British side: the definition of the United Kingdom's 'essential interests' in the island. At British Middle East Headquarters it remained axiomatic that the carrying out of their responsibilities required access to the whole of Cyprus.37 After a ministerial visit by the Minister of War, the high command at Middle East Headquarters was nonetheless cajoled into putting on to paper what kind of bases might be acceptable to them. Reading this document, however, one senior British official—who admitted that for several years he had entertained an uneasy feeling of being 'led up the garden path' about the necessity of Cyprus to British strategy—commented that any elected Cypriot government would 'jump back in horror' from the incredibly large demands involved.38 When, seeking to deflect this tendency, Foot warned that it would be folly to imagine that 'because we have enclaves marked red on the map with a barbed wire fence round the outside that their security and effectiveness are assured',39 Reddaway quickly retorted that 'we [the British] should open our mouths wide' over u

Sinclair to Foot, 12 Jan. 1959,181/26, Box 8, Foot Papers. Foot to Sinclair, 26 Jan. 1959, ibid. "' Foot to Higham, 6 Feb. 1959,03926/721. 37 Foot to Martin, 19 Jan. 1959, ibid. 18 Neal, minute, 23 Jan. 1959,181/26, Box 8, Foot Papers. •w Foot to Martin, igjan. 1959,00928/721. 15

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the question of bases." " Such instinctive vulgarity arose from the sentiment, often expressed by Field-Marshal Harding, that after sacrificing so much effort, money, and a good deal of blood, the United Kingdom should not be fobbed off at the end of the struggle with only a tithe of what she considered her due. As so often, this feeling was intimately connected with domestic Tory politicking. The Conservative MP Julian Amery, for whom the Cyprus question loomed large as a way of breathing life into the fading 'imperial wing' of his party, now led the demand for what he called new 'Gibraltars' in the island (the plural was important). The committee of officials under Sir Norman Brook's chairmanship could not be insensitive to the build-up of these pressures. Consequently, the first draft of their report was infused by what the Colonial Office characterized on 4 February as 'a feeling that we should hold on to as much of Cyprus as we can for as long as we can'. Such was the petite politique of British policy when, just a few days later, the stunning news broke that the Greek and Turkish Prime Ministers had made a historic agreement on the future of Cyprus in Zurich, and that their Foreign Ministers were on their way to London to inform Her Majesty's Government of what was to be done with her colony. We shall not follow with any precision the Cypriot 'bazaar' between Greece and Turkey which climaxed in what was to be widely called 'the miracle of Zurich'. The British were not the only ones who had little idea at the time of what was going on. The most informed scholar on these matters tells us that up until mid-January 1959 even the most senior officials in the Greek Foreign Ministry were kept in the dark. 41 The negotiators, after all, were dealing with matters which could sink not just their governments, but their regimes. The Turkish Government wanted directly from the Greeks what the British had feared to give them: a base of their own on Cyprus as a guarantee against 'ultimate' Enosis. This was more than the political position of Karamanlis or Averoff could bear. The problem was how to provide Turkey with the sort of guarantee she required which did not make meaningless the independence of a democratic Cypriot republic. Despite this difficulty, a 'spirit of cooperation' had blossomed in discussions between Zorlu and Pezmoglou in Ankara during midJanuary 1959. Later than month and into early February the focus returned to Paris, where Averoff and Zorlu picked up the threads anew, turning their attention to a method of guarantee which recognized a right of intervention should certain legitimate interests in an independent Cyprus be threatened—most obviously, from a Turkish point of view, by an internal Greek coup. But what kind of independence was it that other countries should have a right to invade if they did not like what was going on? In the end these questions could only be settled, if at all, by a conference of Greek and Turkish Prime Ministers, preferably, as Averoff put it, in a 'tranquil place' where they could distance themselves from all the passions and prejudices which the Cyprus question had so liberally exuded. 'The Turks thought Averoff 411

'Put Not Your Trust in Enclaves', Reddaway memorandum, 22 Jan. 1059. ibid. " Xydis, Reluctant Republic, 352.

Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, 1954-195g

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meant business,' Ambassador Roberts relayed from Paris the still uncertain atmosphere as it had been summed up to him by a leading member of the Turkish delegation, 'but [they] could not be sure.'42 The Zurich conference of 6-11 February 1959, held at the homely Hotel Dolder on the outskirts of the town, was typified by Averoff as 'hard fought and very arduous'.43 It was certainly so for himself and Zorlu, since they did all the laborious work, whilst their premiers largely stuck to their respective suites, venturing out only to settle the most vital points. Once, when Karamanlis felt indisposed, and Menderes visited him in his bedroom, the Greek leader accused the latter of making him ill with his Levantine haggling. 'If that sort of thing made people ill', Menderes laughed, 'I ought to be in a much worse state than you.'44 During the conference all the old points of difference, including the Turkish hankering for a base, reappeared. Deep down, the Greeks always felt that an agreement would emerge, if only because of the huge retinue of journalists that came with Menderes' delegation; there would have been no point in their inclusion unless there was to be something positive to record.45 The crunch came after lunch on 11 February over the size of the joint military headquarters which was to substitute for a Turkish base. Karamanlis threatened to break off if his offer of 900 Greeks, 600 Turks, and a few Cypriots was turned down (the Cypriots, like the British, were pushed to the margins throughout this process). Menderes demanded that the figures be raised by fifty apiece on the Greek and Turkish sides, and said that the Army at home would kill him if he did not do enough to satisfy them. They settled on a figure to prevent such a fate, and after an amiable dinner in the hotel dining-room, Karamanlis and Menderes went home. They were hardly the most powerful statesmen in the world, but they had been determined to show that in their own region they could settle things together if they wanted to. This they had done with some aplomb. The Greek and Turkish leaderships were sophisticated, experienced people dealing with a highly complicated problem. It followed that the solution they devised was complex and subtle (only if the British and Cypriots had ever come together amongst themselves, indeed, could the solution have been a simple one). Before leaving, the Prime Ministers had initialled three documents and come to one 'Gentleman's Agreement'. Only the latter was not afterwards published. First, there was the 'Basic Structure of the Republic of Cyprus', cataloguing the chief constitutional properties of the proposed new state. Second was the Treaty of Guarantee to be signed by Greece, Turkey, and Britain. Third was the Treaty of Alliance between Greece, Turkey, and the putative Republic of Cyprus. The Gentleman's Agreement, reflecting the important if subsidiary role played by the Americans in these events, was one in which both sides promised to make sure that their respective proteges should thereafter keep the lid on Communism. In drafting the communique which announced a constructive outcome, the historic spirit of Ataturk and Venizelos was 42 43

Roberts to Foreign Office, 20 Jan. 1959, FO37I/I44639, RGCio73/6. 44 4S Averoff, Lost Opportunities, 332. Ibid. Xydis, Reluctant Republic, 409.

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inevitably recalled. Karamanlis, on returning to Athens, called it 'one of the happiest days of his life',46 and immediately invited Archbishop Makarios to his home to hear what had been decided. But there were other people besides the Archbishop who required an explanation. As Karamanlis and Menderes headed homewards, Averoff and Zorlu set off for London to meet with British ministers. The British Government had (unlike the Americans) been kept almost completely ignorant as to what was being discussed in Zurich. 'This is getting interesting,' Macmillan remarked to Selwyn Lloyd when he heard that the Greek and Turkish Foreign Ministers were coming,'. . . But we only need our Gibraltars.'47 This conveyed the transformation which now came over British policy. The fact was that by the end of January the Macmillan Plan had irretrievably foundered. Admittedly, on the ground in Cyprus the Security Forces, following previous instructions, continued to 'turn up the pressure', so that there was an unpleasant little incident at Agros on 24 January when trouble broke out following the Army's arrest of a Greek teacher at a school, during which a woman was badly wounded; General Darling personally flew incognito over the town dropping tear-gas.48 But the bottom had fallen out of the British position, and Macmillan was quick to adapt to the new reality. His chief thoughts were anyway turning in a very different direction. The crisis over Berlin dominated the world scene. It was here that Macmillan saw an opportunity to take the limelight and project himself as a senior statesman. To this end he was about to spring on an unsuspecting world the bombshell of a visit to Moscow by a British Prime Minister—a venture which was to give birth to the legend of'Supermac'. A breakthrough in Cyprus, albeit one for which the main credit lay elsewhere, would be a useful lead-in to the far more significant Moscow initiative, and it was this to which Macmillan referred when he told Selwyn Lloyd that a settlement over Cyprus could not happen 'at a more timely moment'. Almost as soon as the Greek and Turkish Foreign Ministers arrived in London, they proceeded to the British Foreign Secretary's official residence in Carlton Gardens for dinner, before starting business. Each had their London Ambassadors with them (Birgi for Turkey, Seferiades, the distinguished poet, for Greece). On the British side there were several ministers, led by Selwyn Lloyd, flanked by leading officials, though the Colonial Secretary himself was absent in Africa. This line-up remained the same during the tripartite talks which continued to 17 February, with the sole addition of Sir Hugh Foot, who arrived on the i3th from Cyprus, slightly shaken owing to a landing at London airport affected by severe w eather conditions. 'The agreement reached', was how Birgi stated at the opening dinner the outcome of Zurich, 'was like a souffle which must be eaten at once, otherwise it will collapse.'49 The metaphor was highly suggestive. Both Averoff and Zorlu were adamant that the representatives of the two main Cypriot communities had to be summoned as 16

47 Xytlis, Reluctant Republic, 409. Alistair Home, Aiaciitillait, 195j 79^6,11.691. General Darling to Mr Darling, 25 Jan. 1959, Darling Papers. 4 '' Record of meeting at Carlton House Gardens, 11 Feb. 1959, FO37I/I44640, RGCio73/28.

48


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quickly as possible to London and be seen to swallow what had been prepared for them. But before being willing to play their necessary part as hosts to an expanded, five-party conference, the British wanted to be sure about the ingredients which most affected them. Selwyn Lloyd pointed out to the Greeks and Turks that the overriding British priority was the retention of sovereign British bases. Averoff and Zorlu spent much of their time during these exchanges soothing British fears on this point, saying that the reason why it was not covered in the Zurich documents was because they took it so much for granted.50 This was somewhat disingenuous. On that day Karamanlis had been closeted with Makarios, and assured him that the latter would at least retain a free hand in negotiating with the British about the prospective bases.51 The truth was whilst both Greece and Turkey recognized the necessity to grant the principle of British military facilities in an independent Cyprus, neither had any real interest in their size or status. The British and the Cypriots were to be left to fight this matter out between them—as they were sure to do. The British Cabinet which met on the morning of 13 February agreed in principle to a settlement incorporating the Zurich terms on the basis of the promise given to ministerial colleagues by Selwyn Lloyd that 'there will be no difficulty in getting what we want militarily'.52 Still, there were sufficient imponderables remaining that when President Eisenhower notified Macmillan that he was about to send congratulatory telegrams to Karamanlis and Menderes, pointing out that the British had always said they would accept whatever terms brought the Greeks and Turks together, the British premier responded that he should hold back from doing so until a further signal was given from London.53 The remainder of the tripartite discussions trawled over some of the grey but important areas which remained. This was partly necessitated by the fact that the British Chiefs of Staff weighed in again with requirements which included bases in the vicinities of Akrotiri and Dhekelia, but also extensive rights to the use of port and air facilities, communications through the island, and a provision for new bases in the future. These demands were given an additional twist by Lord Harding's appearance on the BBC's 'At Home and Abroad' programme, in which he stressed that such bases must be assured of the cooperation of a friendly local government (though how this might be done short of maintaining the status quo was not something on which the Field-Marshal gave any precise advice). Navigating around these political obstacles remained Macmillan's principal preoccupation on a question whose broad significance for him was in very rapid decline. Although bases were the United Kingdom's chief remaining interest, they were not the only ones. Governor Foot, after his arrival, focused on the need for a prolonged handover, though his argument that this was to avoid 'a most unfavourable reaction' amongst the Cypriots themselves was acutely disingenuous. Ten months' 50 52 53

51 Ibid. Averoff, Lost Opportunities, 337. Harold Macmillan, Riding the Storm, 7956-7959 (London, 1971), p. 639. Macmillan to Eisenhower, 14 Feb. 1959, Box 3286, RGsg, State Department Records, USNA.

3°8

5 December 1958-1 g March 1959

'stay of execution' was, however, the maximum that those who really mattered were prepared to extend to the Cyprus Government and its discomfited expatriate employees. British ministers were also not happy at being left out of the 'Treaty of Alliance' to be signed between Greece, Turkey, and Cyprus. Averoff stuck by the view that the 'psychological conditions' for such inclusion did not exist—a rather prejudicial comment on Britain's stature as an ally in the region. Finally, there was the point of fundamental importance in the saga of decolonization embedded in the Foreign Secretary's plea that 'the British Government. . . [should] take part in the process of [Cypriot] constitution-making', rather than have the 'Basic Structure' of the new state fixed, as decreed at Zurich, by an international agreement. In the classic conception of British 'transfers of power', the British themselves were to preside over the legal metamorphosis into independent statehood. What was presently in the offing presented a very different picture. 'It was difficult enough', Averoff and Zorlu joined in rebutting the British minister's request, 'for Greece and Turkey to dictate to the Cypriots, although they were n o t . . . colonial powers. The present settlement would be based not on the British Government granting a constitution to the Island, but on their signing an international treaty under which they would recognize the existence of the new Cypriot State.'M The birth of an independent Cyprus, therefore, was to provide a unique case in the British 'end of empire' where responsibility for the outcome was taken out of Westminster's hands before the actual transfer of power took place. Meanwhile, it was in order to allow Greece and Turkey to 'dictate' to their respective Cypriot parners that Her Majesty's Government duly sent out fresh invitations to a much more formal conference to be held at Lancaster House in London beginning on Tuesday, 17 February, including Archbishop Makarios and Dr Kucuk. Archbishop Makarios had endured many tedious hours in the Hotel Grande Bretagne in Athens, but none can have been more frustrating that those between 6 and 11 February when he could only wait (like the British) for whatever scraps of news came out of Zurich. His personal position had been sapped during the months since his release. Macmillan's tactic of'throwing him back into the sea' had in this sense not been ineffective. But the result of weakening Makarios had been to strengthen other, more poisonous, enemies of Britain. 'We think Grivas' prestige is higher than Makarios' because he lives in constant danger whilst Makarios enjoys life in a luxury hotel,' reported one of EOKA's informers in the police, giving a widespread intelligence assessment.55 It is doubtful whether Greek-Cypriots were particularly conscious of the status of the Hotel Grande Bretagne—the Archbishop, after all, was not expected to put up in some slovenly tavern. But the simple fact that Makarios had for so many months not been in the eye of the Emergency, and Grivas had, naturally affected the perceptions of ordinary people. Makarios remained an icon; 'Dighenis' had become a legend. The Archbishop fully understood in mid-February 1959 that 54 55

Record of meeting at the Foreign Office, 13 Feb. 1959, FO37I/I44640, RGCio73/28. George Grivas, Memoirs (London, 1964), p. 186.


309

if things continued as they were his own prestige would finally buckle. He would end up like so many previous Archbishops of Cyprus: old, decrepit, irrelevant. In order to prevent a further deterioration in his position he had promised Karamanlis that he would accept the Zurich terms, subject to a free hand over the British bases in future discussions. He could then go home, and assume at last his real responsibilities. But to be beckoned to London and expected to put a meek signature on various documents which, collectively, amounted to a confession of Greek-Cypriot defeat, called for all his subtle dignity if it was not to be a catastrophe for himself, his Church, and his community. Grivas' position also had its difficulties. He claims in his memoirs that the Athenian authorities took action at this stage to cut off the flow of arms to EOKA.56 It is doubtful whether the military supplies getting through from outside were now, indeed, more than a trickle (though EOKA had become much better at do-it-yourself). Nevertheless, Karamanlis and Averoff were prepared, for the first time, not just to exhort Grivas to lay down his arms, but to take whatever measures were required to ensure that he did so. Averoff had promised Zorlu as much. Since going 'underground' in late 1954, furthermore, Grivas had retained one great advantage: all he had needed to do was to stay there undetected. That in the end was his victory. But the moment a political settlement was in the making, the calculus changed. His very isolation and lack of information became a threat. At that point he had to consider the risks of getting closer to Nicosia to make his voice heard—mere violence was no longer enough. It was part of the pattern of Grivas' career that as the stylization offeree gave way to the subtlety of real politics, the more the ground gave way beneath his feet, and the real slightness of his figure emerged. Meanwhile, he issued a statement on 13 February which attempted to keep all his options open. Makarios' relations with Grivas, always bumpy, had been getting progressively worse ever since the Archbishop had used his interview with Barbara Castle to signify his acceptance of the goal of an independent Cyprus. They now entered a sharp dive when Makarios, instead of announcing that he would go to London with one or two aides, set about assembling a forty-one-strong delegation, including Nationalists, trade-union members, and some Leftists—a cross-section of Greek-Cypriot society. In doing so, he clearly hoped to spread the load of responsibility for the painful decisions which lay ahead—and to protect himself against the inevitable recriminations. But, in a more profound sense it represented a start on that political nation-building which Makarios knew would be the true test of his future leadership. Grivas deeply resented not being consulted on the composition of this group. Makarios finally arrived in the British capital on the afternoon of 16 February. As soon as his impressively robed figure emerged from his aeroplane, he was closely accompanied by Scotland Yard detectives, since an attempt on his life from one of several quarters could not be discounted.57 When he got to the Dorchester Hotel, where he was to stay through the following days, he found a throng of United Empire 56

Ibid.

" Times of Cyprus (16 Feb. 1959).

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5 December 1958-19 March 7959

Loyalists brandishing slogans and shouting abuse. More than ever, the Archbishop was surrounded by enemies—to his front, his rear, and even some among his own delegation. For the three main Powers at the conference, the crucial starting-point was to obtain Makarios' unequivocal agreement to the Zurich terms. It had been Karamanlis' assurance of this, based on his conversation with the Archbishop in Athens,58 which had convinced Macmillan to send out the invitations at such short notice (the British Premier was about to set out on his surprise visit to Moscow, and had very little time to spare). Yet in Makarios' case verbal assurances were not felt to be enough; a prior written guarantee of his concurrence in the details of Zurich was required if the forthcoming conference was not all too likely to come apart at the seams. Sir Hugh Foot, now well versed at tracking down Makarios in hotel rooms, was sent off to the Dorchester on the late afternoon of the i6th with a draft declaration to that effect. This document had been drawn up in the Colonial Office, but, suggestively, its wording had remained somewhat loosely drafted because, according to one of the officials concerned, the Ministry of Defence 'were insisting that they could not be altogether sure' that they would accept whatever conclusions were finally come to.59 Foot was relieved when Makarios signed the declaration without apparent difficulty/'0 But when the Governor then went straight to the Greek Embassy, where the Foreign Ministers (including Selwyn Lloyd) were dining, the phraseology was instantly interpreted as yet another instance of the Archbishop's unreliability. 'That night', Foot wrote, 'it looked as if M. Zorlu might pull out of the negotiations altogether.'61 To bring the Turks back on board once more, a new reference was inserted to the effect that Zurich constituted an 'agreed foundation' for the looming talks. This episode, for which Makarios took all the blame for other people's hesitations as well as his own, is interesting because it showed how easily Turkish policy might slide into reverse. Above all it illustrated that the conference was not to be about the substance of agreement, since that agreement had already been forged, but purely and simply about the shadow of Cypriot concurrence in a display of diplomatic force majeure. The meeting which opened at Lancaster House on Tuesday, 17 February, at 11.30 a.m. had therefore a regimented, rather fabricated, 'feel' to it. This was the first time—Foot's almost furtive encounters with the Archbishop in Athens aside—that the Cypriots had been accorded any locus slandi in negotiations about their own fate since the old 'Harding-Makarios talks'. But they were still in practice to occupy only a fixed part on the sidelines of the plot—a chorus, not a principal, in this piece of political theatre. Kicking off proceedings was a delicate task for Averoff, who, for his own domestic political reasons, could not appear openly to browbeat Makarios. The Greek Government had initialled the Zurich accords, he said, because 'the respected 58

Avcroff, Lost Opportunities, 347. '' Ross, minute, 24 Feb. 1959, FOjyi /144641, RGCioy3/35. ''" Foot, minute, 22 Feb. 1959, 181/28, Box 8, Foot Papers. 5

fl1

Ibid.


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man who is at the head of the Greek community in Cyprus' had already given assurances that they were acceptable to him. At the same time, although Greece would not impose decisions on their Cypriot brothers, he stated, his delegation would abide by what she had solemnly agreed with Turkey. 'What the agreement contains', Averoff stated the essential point, looking steadfastly at the Archbishop, 'is now the foreign policy of Greece.'62 If there was a moment at which past Greek policy over Cyprus was formally buried, this was it. Zorlu's words, in contrast, did not have to be so carefully weighed. He made the plain observation that the compromise which had already been devised 'constituted a whole from which it is not possible to remove one single point without endangering the whole solution'. At this pre-arranged point, Selwyn Lloyd, as chairman, said it only remained to hear what the Cypriot representatives had to say when the meeting reconvened the following morning. Whatever concerns remained in British quarters, especially the military, about a settlement, in the tangled history of their relations with the Archbishop this moment was one to savour. They had him where they had wanted him for a long time. The whole purpose of a conference was to ensure that the Archbishop's capacity to dominate events disintegrated before the scorching power of those who were more powerful than he was. To do this it was necessary that a wedge be driven between Athens and Makarios. That wedge was now plain for all to see. It was also necessary that the Archbishop should not be allowed to enter upon the stage as the sole spokesman of Cypriot interests. The mere presence of Dr Kucuk and Rauf Denktash testified to this success—the Turkish-Cypriot delegation did not need to say or do anything, only be there. The achievement of this scenario had not come about through British power or success in the field against EOKA, but rather through the coincidental dynamics of Greek and Turkish policy. Still, as they all sat there on that first morning in Lancaster House, it was Selwyn Lloyd, not the Archbishop, who could take satisfaction from having come out on top of the Anglo-Greek struggle in Cyprus, even if that struggle had for some while become irrelevant in terms of the main conflict. Once the climax of agreement was set up in this way, the time was imminent for the Prime Ministers to appear on the conference stage and seal its success. Their physical presence was essentially required to invest the agreement with a legitimacy which in key respects it otherwise lacked. Karamanlis and Menderes set out from their capitals, whilst Macmillan prepared to put aside the huge pile of briefs for Moscow imposed on him by the Foreign Office. The aeroplanes of the Greek and Turkish leaders both put down in Rome, and Karamanlis invited Menderes to join him for the rest of the journey, but he declined. Despite bad weather, Karamanlis' plane arrived on time in London, and he went straight to the Greek Embassy, where he was soon closeted with Makarios. Meanwhile, Menderes' plane—a Viscount of Turkish Airlines—had been diverted to Gatwick owing to dense fog. With ten 62 Verbatim report of the ist Plenary Session at Lancaster House, 17 Feb. 1959, FC>371/144641, RGCi073/35.

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minutes to landing, the premier went to the back of the craft. It almost certainly saved his life. Descending rapidly, the plane crashed, breaking into pieces, with parts of the fuselage left hanging in the trees. Twenty-five people—over half the passengers— were killed, including all the crew, several senior officials, and one Cabinet minister. Menderes had been thrown clear. After being comforted in a nearby house, he was rushed to hospital with cuts and bruises, and suffering from shock. The conference schedule clearly had to be adjusted in the aftermath of this tragedy. Instead of being reconvened on the morning of the 18th, it was arranged that there should be a session in the evening. This also gave Karamanlis and Averoff a bit more time to work on Makarios, who was threatening to go back on his previous assurance to raise no questions about the Zurich formula. Yet, their minds were also fixed on another possibility. On 12 February, acting on information at his disposal, Averoff told Selwyn Lloyd that 'it would be fatal to the success of the agreement: if the British Security Forces [in Cyprus] were to capture Colonel Grivas after the conference had been successfully held'.6' It would be even worse if he were captured— or killed, since British intelligence had never believed that Grivas could be taken alive—whilst the conference was actually going on. For years the Security Forces had been in hot but fruitless pursuit of EOKA's leader. It was in keeping with the endless capacity of the Cypriot saga to take an unpredictable turn that they arrived at this point of success at such a delicate moment. On this matter we must go back slightly on our narrative. It was noted earlier that more or less simultaneously with General Darling's arrival in Cyprus as Director of Operations in the winter of 1958, Sir John Prendergast had been transferred from Kenya as a new Intelligence supremo. The latter's instructions had been 'to set his sights firmly on Grivas'.''4 The problem remained, as always, that given EOKA's peculiar organization, there was, as Darling put it, 'no easy route to Grivas up the ladder of the organization' (in fact, no such Madder' existed)/" Prendergast's solution was to identify a small number of key individuals on the fringes of EOKA, and to concentrate resources on tracking their movements and communications. 'We began', Prendergast recalled, 'to literally move around the island with Grivas, at first somewhat behind him, but with an increasing supply of information, ahead. Through well chosen and directed agents we got closer and closer."'6 Some of these agents were specially seconded from Mis on what was jejunely labelled 'Operation Sunshine'.67 A critical reason why Grivas had been able to evade detection for so long was that, for many months, he had remained so firmly hidden away. But as we have already remarked, once political negotiations were in motion, Grivas could not afford the luxury of complete isolation. He needed to get in closer touch with Ethnarchy circles in the island to ensure that his views were not discounted. After he heard about Zurich, he moved from Limassol to a new 'hide' built into a house on the ' •' Record of meeting at the Foreign Office, i2pcb. 1959^0371/144640, RGCio73/28. 64 General Darling,'The Final Round', Darling Papers, p. 3. ' •' Ibid. 5. '"' Ibid. '" Peter Wright, Spy catcher: The Candid Autobiography of a Secret Agent (New York, 1987), p. 78.


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outskirts of Nicosia. It was when he was 'above ground' that Grivas inevitably became more vulnerable. Darling explains in his account that on 16 February Prendergast came to give him the news that the Security Forces had finally identified Grivas' hide-out, and that it was surrounded by surveillance. The General's response was to be thrilled but not surprised. 'This was indeed a triumph', Darling later remarked, 'which partially compensated all members of the Security Forces for all the toil, trouble and casualties they had endured over a period of three-and-a-half years.'68 There was a temptation to send in immediately a 'snatch squad' and finish the job. This could not be done, however, without regard to its political implications. When Darling spoke to the Deputy Governor—Foot now being in London—Sinclair advised that Prendergast should go immediately to Britain and get instructions from the highest quarters 'as to whether Grivas' head was required on a charger or whether he should be allowed to stew in his [own] juice'.69 Prime Minister Macmillan was informed of Grivas' detection, and that Sir John Prendergast was on his way to London, on the early evening of 16 February, just as he was about to host a dinner party for Karamanlis at 10 Downing Street. Averoff writes that he was sitting by the British leader when 'he turned to me with that look of careless unconcern which he so often affected and asked me what I thought would happen if Dighenis' hideout in Cyprus happened to be discovered just then and he were arrested'.70 The Foreign Minister responded that he had no idea where Grivas might be or what the danger to him was, but that one thing he did know for sure was that Grivas would not be taken by the British Army alive. He added that in such circumstances 'Karamanlis . . . will leave London immediately, taking all of us with h i m . . . Cyprus will become a bloodbath once more and anti-British feeling in Greece will spread like wildfire'.71 Macmillan looked him straight in the eye, turned thoughtfully away, and, Averoff's description goes on, with a catch in his voice, said 'How sad!... How very sad!... Our two peoples used to be so friendly. I saw at first hand how the friendship between Greece and Britain blossomed during the last war. It was so beautiful, so strong!' Later that night Macmillan saw Prendergast, and sent him back to Nicosia with the instructions that Grivas should be left 'to stew in his juice', and not be killed. Averoff's picture of Macmillan on this occasion rings true with its theatrical sense of lazy, but deadly, power. The sentimentalist in Macmillan was certainly aroused by the wartime memories to which he referred as one of the principal episodes in his own life. In so far as he could have had Grivas killed with all the temporary eclat this might have brought him, the decision was statesmanlike. Eden in his pent-up state of 1955/6 would probably not have done the same. It should be said that the picture we have painted requires some fuzzy edges. Grivas' memoirs depict the rumours of his 68 69 70

Darling, 'The Final Round', 13. See Sir John Prendergast, 'The Net Closes in on Grivas', unpub. typescript, Darling Papers. 71 Averoff, Lost Opportunities, 359. Ibid. 360.

3H

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own discovery as having been manipulated to 'stampede' him into accepting the Zurich-London accords, and he even states that Averoff and Makarios were 'at the bottom of it'.72 He argues that if the British Army knew where he was, they could not have resisted eliminating him. This perhaps underestimates the restraint of the British armed forces. It is true that some evidence indicates a continuing imprecision as to Grivas' exact location. When Sir John Martin of the Colonial Office soon afterwards told the Archbishop that the British now knew that Grivas was 'either in or around Nicosia, or in and around LimassoF, he received the swift reply that this 'evidently covered a very wide area' (perhaps Martin did not want to give too much away in talking to Makarios). 7 ' On the other hand, the very close proximity of the Security Forces to Grivas in mid-February 1959 crops up in a sufficient variety of sources that we may with reasonable confidence conclude that, whether or not the Security Forces had a particular house surrounded, his capture was within their power. When the Cyprus conference reconvened in Lancaster House on the evening of 18 February, nervousness that the Archbishop might run true to form and show himself utterly impossible, the traumatic feelings amongst the Turks following the crash of Menderes' plane, and the uncertainties now surrounding Grivas' fate, all compounded to make the atmosphere suddenly very brittle. No pre-arranged script about Cyprus could ever be relied upon to run smoothly. The second plenary session of the conference began with a moment's silence for the Turkish bereavements. The Archbishop then held the stage. If Makarios' shadow had always hovered over events, for much of the time that shadow had been thrown obliquely, from his Palace, from the Seychelles, from Athens, even from Nairobi and Madagascar. Now, in London, be was momentarily the centre of everybody's attention. He began by greeting the 'totally new and happy atmosphere' which had emerged, and the fact that the United Kingdom was at last willing to give up its sovereignty. Nevertheless, he went on to raise matters which caused him concern: the veto powers built into the proposed outline for the constitution, the Turkish-Cypriot claim to 30 per cent of the jobs in the local civil service which was 'not justifiable', the Treaty of Alliance which the Archbishop said the new Republic should enter into of its own volition and not as a fundamental article imposed from outside, and not least that part of the Treaty of Guarantee which gave other powers the right 'to separate action in intervening in the internal affairs of Cyprus'.' 4 All these points touched on key aspects of the settlement. Grateful though he was to be invited to participate in the conference at Lancaster House, His Beatitude remarked with a cool tip of irony, he did not think that Greek-Cypriots should be placed in a position of'take or leave it'. 'We accept it [Zurich] as a good basis for the final solution,' Makarios concluded, but everybody present knew that 'good' was not necessarily 'agreed', and that 'final' was not necessarily there and then at Lancaster House. 72

Grivas, Memoirs, 194-5. '' Martin,minute, 27 Feb. 1959, ^0371/144643, RGCioij/s?. Verbatim Report of the Second Plenary Session of the Lancaster House Conference, i<S Feb. 195 FO371/144641, RGCi073/35. 74


3:5

Makarios was followed by Denktash, whose prominence on this occasion testified to his growing stature within the Turkish-Cypriot community. During the conference interval, the Archbishop had met with Denktash and tried to get him to join a Cypriot 'united front'. This, too, marked a new if very tentative departure which Makarios was to continue into independence. The Turkish-Cypriot leader proceeded to tell the delegates, however, that to start altering the 'fundamental provisions' of Zurich would be to pull the entire structure down; whilst the Archbishop's objection to the 30 per cent quota in the civil service 'indicates that we [the TurkishCypriots] are still to be treated in the eyes of the Greek side as a mere minority'. There suddenly arose the danger that instead of the conference imposing a settlement on Cyprus, Cyprus might impose its own divisions on the conference. Only Averoff could hope to handle the Archbishop without igniting an explosion. After the two Cypriot contributions had been made, therefore, he intervened to say that he 'did not want to challenge his [Makarios'] right to change his views, because human beings do change views', but pointed out that the Archbishop had seen the Zurich documents before the conference and signified his agreement to them. Averoff himself, he admitted, might have reservations about some of them, but provided there was collaboration in the new state, they were not such as to impede its working. Zorlu took up the same theme, and pledged with regard to the crucial right of intervention that Turkey would not exploit it for selfish purposes. '[I]t is up to the Cypriots', he warned,'... to take care . . . by the laws that they promulgate on the island . . . The Greeks must not try to get Enosis, just as the Turks of Cyprus must not try to get partition . . . They must put out of mind such activities.'75 This was fair enough, except for the fact that under Zurich the Turkish-Cypriots were much closer to de facto partition than their Greek compatriots were to unqualified self-determination. Selwyn Lloyd, as chairman, found himself in a position to steer the conference away or towards the brink of disintegration on which it now teetered. A further gloss is required here on the British Government's position during the Lancaster House proceedings. What Macmillan feared most during the conference was that the United Kingdom's claims to military bases might be challenged.76 If that happened, there was a strong possibility of a right-wing backlash against any settlement. When Selwyn Lloyd, for instance, had told the American Ambassador that a solution was in sight provided 'the rats do not get at it',77 the Ambassador had the impression that although the Archbishop was 'King Rat', the Foreign Secretary also had in mind some of his own backbenchers. Clearly, at this 'moment of destiny', Macmillan and Lloyd could not afford to let 'King Rat' out of the toils in which he was caught, lest all the smaller rats followed. The Foreign Secretary's method of preventing this was the same one which Field-Marshal Harding had always advocated in his own negotiations with Makarios—that of 'bringing things to a head' without further ado. Referring to the fact that Her Majesty's Government had only agreed to call the 75

76 Ibid. Macmillan, Riding the Storm, 695. Whitney (US Embassy, London) to State Department, 11 Feb. 1959, Box 3286, RGs9, State Department Records, USNA. 77

316

5 December 1958-1 g March 7959

conference on the assumption that an agreement was already in place, Lloyd recommended to the delegates that the conference break up in failure. For the Archbishop this browbeating tactic must have reminded him forcibly of that other 'moment of destiny' on the evening of 29 February 1956 in Nicosia, when the Harding-Makarios negotiations had collapsed, and his own deportation had loomed. It was a measure of how much was at stake that in replying the Archbishop craved the indulgence of his hearers for reverting to Greek. It had always been words, more than anything else, with all their subtle meanings and gradations of prestige, which had put him at odds with the British. In this contest it was the Primate, with his infinite ability 'at seeking the little nooks in an argument which might prolong its life',78 who had so often held the advantage. Makarios knew how to play this essentially verbal game in Greek so much better than in English. The Archbishop proceeded to deny that he was seeking to throw out the Zurich Agreement in its entirety. All he wished to do was to express his own views on the difficulties presented by the documents before the conference. The British Foreign Secretary was only too well aware, however, that once Makarios was allowed to start drawing fine distinctions, everything was lost. Lancaster House was not about subtlety. It was about power, and although the real power involved was not British at all, it so happened that Selwyn Lloyd was in a position to exercise it by pressing the Archbishop as close to the floor as he could go. He therefore cut Makarios short by saying that 'quite frankly... what the Archbishop has said has changed the whole basis of the situation'; and when Makarios protested, 'Not the basis, Mr Chairman,' Lloyd asked bluntly whether he did, or did not, accept the various papers tabled at the conference as the 'agreed foundation' of the final settlement? 'What do you mean, the "foundation"?' replied Makarios, casting around for some nook, some semantic recess, in which he might find momentary protection. 'May I explain to you, Archbishop,' Selwyn Lloyd went on with crushing ponderousness,'... a foundation is something upon which we can build, but if you take away something from it, the whole structure falls down. That is what I mean by a foundation.' 79 A veroff sought to take the edge off this confrontation by making a distinction of his own between the foundations of an agreement and the constitutional clarifications which would certainly be needed thereafter. But Selwyn Lloyd was not prepared to forego the opportunity to bring the Archbishop to bay at last, saying that only Makarios could decide whether it was worth the conference going any further. 'If you want me to give an answer now,' the Archbishop said, 'I say "no",' and after some hurried consultations, including a good deal of more Greek between Makarios and Averoff, it was decided to reconvene the following day to hear what the Archbishop's absolutely final answer to Selwyn Lloyd's unforgiving questions might be. As they prepared to disperse, Zorlu interjected that Makarios was being asked 'to take into consideration all these things' which they had discussed. 'I know what I have to take into consideration,' Makarios snapped, and into that 7(1

D. Alastos, Cyprus Guerrilla: Grivas, Makarios ami the British (London, 1960), p. 103. '' Verbatim Report of the Second Plenary Session (morning), 18 Feb. 1959, £'0371/144641.

7


317

rejoinder went all the pride, vanity, hurt, and grim tenacity which had always lain close to his polished but highly sensitive surface. These exchanges are worth recalling in a little detail because they convey in compressed fashion so much that made the Cyprus conflict what it was. The only thing missing was the violence. Makarios had shown his unreliability, his oversuppleness, and, when it suited him, a calculated obtuseness which showed more than a hint of peasant origins. But it was hardly likely that after everything which had happened the Archbishop would accept being summoned to Lancaster House and constrained into accepting a form of independence hedged about with limitations ('servitudes', in the telling terminology of the Colonial Office) which had no parallel in other contemporary decolonizations. It was afterwards said that Makarios spent that night praying for guidance in his Dorchester suite. If so, at least some of the time he was on the receiving end of stern appeals from Karamanlis and Averoff. He also received a telephone call from Queen Frederika in Athens urging him to accept the 'foundation' for the sake of Greece.80 In communicating his decision when morning came, Makarios stuck by his belief that the matter should all along have been one between himself and the British. At nine o'clock prompt he sent a note to Sir John Martin in the Colonial Office to say that he fully accepted the Zurich terms. 'Did you really believe I would not sign the agreements?' he chided Karamanlis later that day. 'Then why did you make all that turmoil for two days?' the Greek premier asked. 'I had my reasons,' the Archbishop replied in his best enigmatic style. In so far as the reasons were embedded in past struggles they were not hard to understand; but as a benchmark for the future they were also not without their dangers. The third and final plenary session of the conference opened at 3.45 p.m. on 19 February. Proceedings—chaired now by Prime Minister Macmillan—returned to the tightly managed script of the opening session.81 The Archbishop sat silent whilst his message of acceptance was read out. The rest was pure formality, after which drinks were served. For the British leader, it was the first time he had set eyes on the Archbishop. 'He was not at all what I had pictured him,' he wrote in his diary that night. 'I had thought of him as a big m a n . . . Good hands, flexible, and artistic... I would have said agreeable, intelligent, subtle, but not strong. This, perhaps, explains his hesitations.'82 Here Macmillan showed his perception of small human details, but the weakness he had spotted had as much to do with the situation Makarios faced, as with the vein of uncertainty which undoubtedly ran through his personality. After a short interval, the British and Greek Prime Ministers, accompanied by the bearer of an appropriately grand silver ink-pot, hastened to the medical ward where the unfortunate Menderes was still recovering from his injuries. The documents were duly signed. Thus it was that the independent Republic of Cyprus was, by some prophetic stroke of irony, ultimately conceived in a hospital. 80

Stanley Mayes, Makarios. A Biography (London, 1981), p. 135. See Verbatim Report of the Third Plenary Session (afternoon), 18 Feb. 1959, ¥0371/144641, RGCio75/37. S2 Macmillan, Riding the Storm, 697. 81

318

5 December 1958-1 g Ma rch 1959

Few can have been more relieved at the outcome than Governor Foot. 'The Zurich and London Agreements were indeed miracles,' he wrote to Sir James Bowker at his new station of Vienna soon afterwards, remembering some of the bad times they had gone through together, 'and the main credit must go to Zorlu and Averoff ,'83 Which of these two deserved more plaudits was a matter of dispute amongst British officials who had observed events closely from the inside. Some thought that, although Averoff had been 'the hero of the London conference' by helping to haul Makarios back from the brink, Zorlu was the hero of the original entente which had made everything possible.84 Others argued that the vital change of position—that is, away from Enosis, or full self-determination—had been on the part of the Greeks and GreekCypriots, whereas the Turks had merely refined their tactics away from crude partition.85 We cannot reconstruct Greek or Turkish policy closely enough to come to any firm conclusions on this matter. What is notable is that nobody at the time thought that the Macmillan Plan had anything to do with forcing a solution, though that contention soon became a refrain of those who had been most closely associated with it. But regardless of who might properly take the palm as the true author or catalyst of the settlement, the question remained whether it was truly a 'miraculous' cure for the ills of Cyprus, or merely a remission—not so much a peace as a truce between the forces unleashed by the unfolding logic of the Emergency? Neutral observers were already posing this puzzle as the Greek and Turkish delegations—the latter only after Menderes made a personal visit to thank the family which had comforted him in their home after the recent air tragedy—departed from London. There was no jubilation in Cyprus as the news of the Lancaster House Agreement came through. Some muted celebrations took place in the carnival town of Limassol; in more sober Nicosia and Famagusta, where the Emergency had hit harder, there was largely silence. Consul Belcher's judgement was that ordinary people were awaiting the return of the Archbishop before believing that the Emergency was truly ending.*' Painful experience had instilled into the Cypriot public a suspicious watchfulness, a strong sense that things were never quite what they seemed. There also remained one major imponderable: the response of Colonel Grivas and the rest of EOKA. In fact, one of the few tangible features of the days after 19 February on the island was a patchy but discernible revival of personal dealings between the Greek and Turkish communities. Otherwise an uneasy interregnum prevailed. There were, indeed, a number of pitfalls still to be got over on various sides. Macmillan, for example, could not depart for Moscow before personally informing the House of Commons of the resolution of the principal problem of colonial policy facing the United Kingdom. On the evening of 19 February, therefore, he rose at the Dispatch Box to say that Her Majesty's Government had from the start enthusias"•' Foot to Bowker, 24 June 1959,181/12, Box 8, Foot Papers. s4 Addis, minute, 20 Mar. 1959,1^0371/144643, RGCiO73/6t. s; R. Wade-Gen, minute, 13 Mar. 1959, ihid. •S(l Belcher to State Department, 20 Feb. 1959, Box 3286, RGs9, State Department Records, USNA.

319

Britain and the Revolt in Cyprus, i%4~i959

tically supported the initiative which had come to fruition in the last few days (fortunately few of his hearers can have known how slippery this statement was).87 He briefly congratulated Sir Hugh Foot, but quickly went on to pay a tribute to FieldMarshal Harding, so many of whose strongest admirers occupied the benches to the Prime Minister's rear. He was careful to provide an assurance that the interests of British officials displaced from Cyprus would be looked after; and even more careful to declare regarding British soldiers who had been killed during the Emergency that 'none died in vain . . . for their sacrifice has prevented the widening of conflict and strife'. Most striking, however, was the Prime Minister's peroration. 'No party to it [the Cyprus agreement] has suffered defeat,' he pronounced. 'It is a victory for all.'88 The study of modern British parliamentary rhetoric is a neglected one. But this was quintessentially Churchillian—the great man had used almost precisely the same words to greet the ending of both world wars. They were emblazoned on Macmillan's memory, and it testified to how Cyprus impinged on British politics more closely than any other contemporary colonial experience that Macmillan made use of the device now. GaitskelPs reply—that the only credit Her Majesty's Government deserved was 'for eating so many words'—was dismissed by the Prime Minister in his jauntiest style. This got over an awkward moment, though the formal vote on the settlement had yet to be taken. The next day to the world's amazement, since there had been no prior announcement, Macmillan left for Moscow, the first western leader to do so since the Cold War began. For all Macmillan's attempt at creating the impression of a lour de force over Cyprus, however, Lancaster House was not a pleasant pill to swallow for a significant number of Tory loyalists. 'Cyprus Black Pact' the Daily Express headline ran on 24 February. A good many people wondered why it had been necessary for British soldiers to die when sovereignty over the great bulk of the island had been lost anyway. This was the moral and potentially electoral chink in Macmillan's armour, and the Opposition were quick to hammer away at it. How successful they might be hinged not least on the response to Lancaster House amongst the 27,ooo-strong British Security Forces still in the island. One of Macmillan's last instructions before leaving for the Soviet Union was therefore to Governor Foot that 'everything possible should be done to explain [the] agreement to the Security Forces',89 suggesting that radio be used to spread the message that all kinds of'horrible eventualities' had been prevented by the losses and exertions of the Army. Fortuitously, Lennox-Boyd was on the last leg of a colonial tour in Aden, and with Macmillan's encouragement he decided to stop off in Cyprus on 28 February with the express purpose of impressing on the Security Forces the 'courageous, unpleasant but essential part they had played in making a political settlement possible'.90 Subsequently he was able to assure Macmillan that senior Army personnel and civilian officials in Cyprus accepted 87

Parliamentary Debates (Commons), 1958-9, vol. 600,19 Feb. 1959, cols. 618-22. Lennox-Boyd to Foot, 20 Feb. 1959^0371/144643, RGCioi3/37. '*' Lennox-Boyd to Macmillan, 2 Mar. 1959,00926/806. 89

88

Ibid.

320

5 December ig^S-ig March ig$g

Lancaster House as 'an honourable and practicable outcome', if only because there was no alternative; in particular they regarded the amnesty terms—in this context the most sensitive element of all—as distasteful but inevitable. That there were no viable alternatives, in fact, was the chief tactical asset that all British Governments possessed in getting over the more awkward moments in its long retreat from empire. In this Cyprus was no different. Although Lennox-Boyd's few hours in Cyprus had little or nothing to do with the Greek-Cypriot majority, he nevertheless took away the impression that they were 'inwardly bewildered and numbed' by the turn of events; just as, conversely, the Turkish community recognized that 'it had done very weir out of the deal and, in the minister's opinion, intended to do even better in future. 91 His task performed, the Colonial Secretary was hurried by car through central Nicosia in the early hours of i March to the airport. As he peered out, he could not have failed to notice that every tree and telegraph pole was festooned with the blue and white flags of Greece and innumerable placards of welcome. For this was the very day of the Archbishop's long-awaited return, and no minister—least of all Lennox-Boyd—would wish to be associated with this particular celebration. After 19 February the Archbishop had stayed on in London, not wishing to go back to Athens and be caught up in the stormy debates surrounding ratification of the Cyprus Agreements in the Greek Parliament (they were confirmed on 23 February, but only on the basis of the Government's party majority). Nor could he yet go directly to Cyprus before the ban on his entry was formally lifted. This required not only the Governor himself to reach Nicosia first, but the clarification of terms of amnesty to be offered to Grivas. These were certainly not a matter of negotiation with the Greek-Cypriot delegation in London. In the interim Makarios lingered in the Dorchester, met ecumenically with the Archbishop of Canterbury, and preached the Sunday sermon at All Saints Church in Camden Town, that little sliver of an English Greece. On 27 February Sir John Martin called at the Dorchester and handed the Archbishop a letter from the Colonial Office minister, Lord Perth, expressing regret that pressure of business made it impossible for him to meet personally with the Primate. Martin informed Makarios that the terms of amnesty were about to be announced. Asked immediately if these would cover Grivas himself, the official explained that they would incorporate a safe conduct for the return of EOKA's leader to Greece. Makarios expressed satisfaction, but said he would take the matter up further with the Governor in Nicosia. 'He [Makarios] said that there would be no vendetta against those who had been loyal to the [Cyprus] Government,' Martin reported. 'Bygones would be bygones . . . There was no reason for further quarrel with us.'92 After some small talk, this semi-ritual contact between the Colonial Office and the Archbishop was over; it may be taken as marking the symbolic end of Anglo-Greek hostilities over the future of Cyprus (though not, of course, about many of the attendant details, '" Lennox-Boyd to Macmillan, 2 Mar. 1959, €6926/806. ''2 Martin, minute, 27 Feb. 1959, FO37I/I44643, RGCioij/^y.


321

above all the extent of the projected British bases). At midnight in Nicosia the Governor broadcast the amnesty terms, including safe conducts for Grivas and 'anybody he may wish to take with him to Greece'. The cases of Greek-Cypriot prisoners in Wormwood Scrubs were to be reviewed. Emergency Regulations—not least the mandatory death penalty, and necessarily laws against public meetings—were swiftly abolished or relaxed. Virtually as Foot spoke, the detention camps were emptying, as lorry-loads of young Greeks emerged with piles of bedding and all the petty possessions of their incarceration. At last every obstacle to the Archbishop's homecoming had been lifted. At i .30 p.m. on Sunday, i March, Makarios' aeroplane, provided for the occasion by the Greek shipping tycoon Aristotle Onassis, landed in Nicosia. Sir Hugh Foot, the Commissioner of Nicosia, Mr J. Weston, and Archdeacon Blackburn of the Anglican Diocese, entered the plane to greet him. As Makarios alighted, he was first embraced on the tarmac by his 75-year-old father (his mother was not alive). Then began the cavalcade into town with the principal figure transported in a blue-andwhite Jaguar saloon. 200,000 people were crammed into the centre of the city—a high proportion of the entire island's population, with many villages all but deserted.93 It took well over an hour to get the couple of miles to the square of the old, rambling archbishopric, and a further delay whilst Makarios was ushered through the dense crush around the small but beautiful Metropolitan Cathedral of St John, where the doxology had been in progress for some time. The Archbishop kissed the ancient Bible on its golden lectern before placing himself on the throne which had been vacant for so long. As he did so, Makarios' mind must surely have gone back to his enthronement in October 1950, and perhaps have recalled momentarily all his troubles, sacrifices, and perhaps even some of the mistakes which had supervened. Mostly, he must have been conscious of the muffled roar of the congregation and the open boisterousness of the waiting masses outside. The speech the Archbishop gave afterwards from the nearby Palace balcony was important for what it said about both the past and the future. He paid tribute to those who had secured the triumph of the Cyprus cause. This list began with the efforts of past generations. He went on to pay homage to the cult of martyrs now deeply entrenched in the Greek-Cypriot mind—martyrs whose graves were sprinkled 'with the flowers of our love and with the tears of our gratitude'. Makarios saluted Dighenis and the 'gallant fighters' of EOKA without whom 'this day of victory would not have been achieved'. Yet, martyrdom and militant heroism was not at the heart of Makarios' address. He quickly passed on to the ordinary people of Cyprus, whose patriotism, fortitude, and magnanimity had principally determined the outcome. Freedom, he continued, was not just a principle and a right; it was also a responsibility and a supreme duty. Passion and prejudice could have no part in it. 'Let us hold out the hand of friendship and cooperation,' he called. 'Especially let us cooperate wholeheartedly and sincerely with our friends, the Turkish community.' The '" Times of Cyprus (2 Mar. 1959).

322

5 December i gs8~ig March igsg

Archbishop climaxed his speech with an appeal to renew the achievements of Cypriot civilization, that crossing-point of so many cultures and races. 'We are called upon', he ended, 'to transform our island into a golden bridge that will unite and not divide the opposing powers.' To build a golden bridge between East and West in foreign policy, and a less exotic but workmanlike bridge between Greeks and Turks in Cyprus, was the essence of Archbishop Makarios' vision of an independent state—a Cyprus, of course, which he would rule, and whose most rooted institution would remain the Orthodox Church. Whether all these things were entirely compatible nobody could be sure. There was a great deal in all this to admire, but also to provide room for doubt. Consul Belcher suggested to the Archbishop a few days later that the ovation he had received had been 'more out of loyalty to his person and an expression of joy at his return... than of any widespread satisfaction at the agreement'. 1 75» 187-8 overhauls security arrangements 99-101 capital punishment for terrorists 129,147-8, 172 presses British Government for political movement 131-2, 149, 193 narrowly escapes assassination 133-4 views on Suez campaign 146 maladroit public relations 159-60 opposes partition 198-9 resignation and departure 206-12 address at Chatham House 225 supports compensation claims of expatriate administrators 382 Heath, Edward 176 Highland Light Infantry 154 Hill, Corporal Gordon 130 Holmes, Julius 157 Home, Lord 280 Hopkinson, Henry 37-8 Independence: possible solution to the Cyprus dispute 193, 283-4, 292 ceremonial arrangements (Aug., 1960) 335-6

see also Makarios, Archibishop and Foot, Sir Hugh Inonu, Ismet 269, 272 Ionian Protectorate (British) 5 Iraq 266, 290 Ismay, Lord 125 see also NATO Istanbul: anti-Greek riots in wake of Eastern Mediterranean Conference 75-7 Turkish Government threatens 'massacre' of Greek inhabitants 170 Italy 13, 148 Izmir 77,257 Jackson, Sir Edward 15 Jeagcr, Lena 192 Jordan 92 Jowitt, Lord 160 Karaolis, Michael 90-1,93, i t i , 127-30 Karamanlis, Consrantine 97, 104, 185, 204, 261, 297, 307

see also Greece Kassem, Brigadier 266 Kendrew, General 209, 223, 285 Kenya 53, 56, 70, 134, 167, 183-4 Khi 29 Kirkpatrick, Ivone 45, 132, 136, 151 Kitium, Bishops of 4 5 , 17,301 Kranidiotis, Nikos 51 Kruschev, Nikita 293 Kucuck, Dr. 198, 216, 219, 252, 263, 286, 31 i see also Turkish-Cypriots Kykko (monastery) 10, 25, 78,104, 109 Kyrenia, Bishops of 4, 24, 79, 87, 118 Labour Party 40,120-2, 205-6, 247, 329 Lancaster House (Conference) 310-18 Larnaca 4-5 Lausanne (Treaty) 8 Layard,Henry 20 Lebanon 266 Lcdra Palace Hotel 98, 267 Le Geyt, Captain 167 LeGeyt, Mrs. 168,179 Legislative Council 1,8, 113, 126, 152 Lennox-Boyd, Alan: Churchill orders to intervene with Cyprus Government 39 warns Eden that British Government at 'dead end' over Cyprus 50 visits Nicosia: (Jul., 1955) 62-4; (Feb., 1956) 112-14;(Feb., 1959) 3I9-20 and deportation of Makarios 116 statements in Parliament 121, 166-7, '7^, 217-18,328

Index visits Athens 164-5 visits Ankara 165-7 see also Partition Leontios, Archbishop 13 Liaitis, Alexis 106 Limassol 4,13,22,46, 55, 268 Linzee, Lieutenant 132,141 Liopetri 279 Lloyd, Selwyn 35,40,42,160,228-30,232-5, 310,315-16,322,325 Lloyd, Sir Thomas 27 Loch Fada 118 Loizides, Socrates 49-50 Luke, Sir Harry 11 Lyttelton, Sir Oliver 27,31,37, 38 Macdonald, Angus 158-9 Macmillan, Harold: views on Cyprus 57-8 suggests dismissal of Armitage 71 and London Conference on the Eastern Mediterranean 59, 61,64-6, 69-70, 72-6 and deportation of Makarios 87 and 'Partnership' Plan 236-7, 244-7, 276, 300-1 visits Athens 270-2 visits Ankara 272-4 visits to Cyprus 236, 274 considers action against the Church 288 reaction to Zurich conference 306 statements in Parliament 259-60,318-19 see also Foot, Sir Hugh Maitland, Sir Patrick 47 Makarios, Archbishop early life and character 24-6 travels in Middle East 8-9 relations with Grivas 29, 31,109-10, 252, 323, 326 declining relations with Cyprus Government 36-7,39-4!, 46-7 meets Lennox-Boyd (Jul., 1955) 63-4 talks with Governor Harding 84-5, 95-6,114 possible arrest and deportation 36,41,78-9, 87,98,104,107, ni-12,116-19 question of evidence of complicity in violence 50,165,249-50 in exile 118-19,167-9,186 released from prison 175-185 return to Cyprus blocked 278,281 changing views on 'solution' 283-4 weak position at Zurich and London conferences 308,314-17 returns to Cyprus 320-2 dealings with Grivas before latter's departure 324,326-7 legacy of suspicion in relations with Britain 334-5

345

Makins, Sir Roger 48,138 Malaya 27, 53, 56,70 Malta 4, 7,13,16,71,146

Maronites 15 Martin, Sir John 22, 62,180, 292,317, 320 Matchbox, Operation 265-8 Matsis, Kyriakis 291 Mayhem, Operation 145 Mboya, Tom 184 Menderes, Adnan: comes to power in Turkey 43 rising stake in Cyprus issue 69 relations with Britain 275 injured in plane crash 311-12 trial and execution 332—3 see also Turkey Michael, Charilaos 113,147 Milikouri 188-9 Mollet, Guy 154 Morrison, Herbert 24 Mountbatten, Lord 14-15,33,35 Mouskos, Charalambous 105 Municipalities 13, 241-2, 275, 281-2, 292 Musketeer, Operation 134,146 NAAFI 290-1 Nasser, Gamul Abdul 31, 79, 143 NATO 75,77,92,174-7, '96-7,257-8,289-90, 293-4,296,298 Netherlands, the 42 New Zealand 44 Nicosia 1,4,15,52,79,211 Nicosia Bar Council 171 Nkrumah, Kwame 34 Noble, Commander 293 Noel-Baker, Francis 110-12,183,186 Nuri-es-Said 146,266 Nutting, Sir Anthony 48 Nyasaland 33 O'Driscoll, Captain 132,141 Omodhos 174 Omorphita 263 Onassis, Aristotle 31 Palestine 15,21,24, 58,100,129-130,213, 256-7 Pallikarides, Evagoras 173 Palmer, General Sir Richmond 9 Pancyprian Gymnasium 25,29,46,110,219 Papagos, Field-Marshal 30-2, 66,77 Paphos 4, 31 Paratroop Battalion 158 Paris, Peace Conference (1919) 8 Parsons, Anthony 239 Partition: first airing as 'solution' 149

346

Index

Partition (cont.): Harding's views oiv i56-7 genesis of'pledge' in British Parliament 163-7 link with defence review in United Kingdom '94 5 mass campaign in Turkey 250-1 United Kingdom provides guarantee to Turkey in writing 285 Patsatsos, lakovos 147 Paul, King of Greece 24, 165 Pavlides, Stclios 8() Peake, Sir Charles 31-2, 35,44, 97, 114, 117, 128, 138-40, 284 Pearson, Derek 168-9 PEON (Pan-Cyprian Youth Organization) 28 Pezmoglou, Gcorgious 300-1 Phanomerani, Church of 27,40, 105,221 Police: and 1931 riots 2, 4 weakness of 33, 56 key personnel targetted by F.OKA 60 i poor relations with Army 80 development of Auxiliaries 100 resumes 'normal' operations 134 Harding's achievement as Governor 211 unreliability of Turkish ranks 228 bias against Greek Cypriots 252-3 Poullis, Constable 72,90 Powell, Enoch 328 9 Privy Council 91 Profumo,John 204 Purse-Net, Operation 49 50 Radcliffe, Lord: appointed Constitutional Commissioner 132 visits Cyprus 137, 141-2, 147 report on constitution 156-7,161-3, 20 J RAF 4 Rallis, George 238 Reddaway, John 99, i n , 181, 186, 206, 218, 221-3, 237. 244-5, 330, 333 Reparation Impost Law (1931) 4 Rhodes 50 Riddleberger, James 254 Rountrcc, William 261 St. Helena 79 Salisbury, Lord 88,179 Sampson, Nikos 191, 200 Sandys, Duncan 195-6 Sarper, Selim 257 Schools 10,48, 67, 89,93, 107-8, 219 Second World War 13-^4 Seychelles: selected as Makarios' place of exile 87 nee also Makarios, Archbishop shariah (courts) 11

Shattockjjohn 127 Shaw, Justice 191 Shilton, Corporal Ronnie 130 Sicily 13 Sinclair, George 99, 246, 302-3 Skylloura 255 Sophocleous, Andreas 202 Soviet Union 157, 269,293,306 Spaak, Paul-Henri: appointed Secretary-General of NATO 196 and Macmillan Plan 250, 254, 257 encourages Greco-Turkish discussions in Paris 269 suspicions of Macmillan 270 visits Athens 283 failure of efforts to secure new international conference 288-9 see aLw NATO Sparrowhawk, Operation 154 Spyridon, Archbishop of Athens 28 Stewart, Michael 75 Storrs, Lady 3 Storrs, Sir Ronald 1-4, 9-10, 335 Strang, Sir William 14 Strategy: military significance of Cyprus for Britain 20 -2 movement of British Middle East Headquarters to Cyprus 35 changing assessments of island 92, 178, 195, 277,306-7 British preoccupation with bases at Lancaster House discussion (Feb., 1959) 307 agreement on size and status of bases 331 Slubbs, Sir Reginald 9 Sue/ Canal: last British troops leave Base 135 Nasser nationalizes Canal Company 142-3 Greek pilots assist Egyptain maintenance of maritime traffic 145 Sunshine, Operation 312 Syria 146,204,269 Tcmpler, General Sir Gerald 56, 94, 212 Thorncycroft, Peter 225 6 Times of Cyprus 46, 62,68, 80 TMT (Turk Mudya Teskilat): formation of 216 emerges as bigger threat to British rule than EOKA 232, 239 formal proscription 263-4, 26? limited hand-over of weaponry 324 Tornaritis, Criton 169 Tribute: link with Greek nationalism in Cyprus 7-8 abolition of 9 Troodos 3, 12, no

Index Truman Doctrine 24 Turkey: goes to war with Britain (Nov., 1914) 8 attitude to Enosis movement 43-4 first indication of'veto' on British policy Si-2 and London Conference on Eastern Mediterranean 58,64 possibility of invasion of Cyprus 137 and Suez crisis 145-6 deterioration of relations with United Kingdom 185,193-5,229, 241-2 rumours that organizing gun-running into island 201 emergence of a more conciliatory stance 269-70, 290 suspects British opposition to Greco-Turkish demarche 302 revolution in 332 Turkish-Cypriots: place in Cypriot society i i-i 3 first 'mission' to UN 43 warned by EOKA not to side with British 52 reaction to outbreak of violence 55 first bombs in Turkish Nicosia 60 Alan Lennox-Boyd meets leaders in Cyprus 62 relations with Cyprus Government 67—9 provides rising percentage of Police personnel 100 first casualties in Police Force 107 Governor Harding's liaison with leaders 109 worsening relations with Greek compatriots 133,198,216,220, 227-8, 251-3 place in Radcliffe Report 162 first threats of non-co-operation with Security Forces 228-9

347 favoured position in Macmillan Plan 260 views on Lancaster House Agreement 320

United Nations 17,28,30,41-4, 219,293 United States: views on strategic significance of Cyprus 36 and the United Nations 41-2 drawn reluctantly into dispute 46 Anglo-American relations 35,104, 202,204, 248-9,254, 266 Greek-American relations 77,106,257 and the deportation of Archbishop Makarios 124-5 assassination of Vice-Consul 138 attitude to partition option 170 role in Greco-Turkish agreement 302 Venizelos, Eleutherios 298 Venizelos, Sophocles 23,28 Vima 40 Vlachos, Angelos 148 Volkan 203 Wentworth,John 282 Williamson, Douglas 158 Winster, Lord 14-16 Wolseley, Lord 5 Woolley, Sir Charles 13 Wormwood Scrubs 157,190 Wright, Sir Andrew 16-18,22-3,26, 67-8 Zacharielou, Joanna 287 Zakos, Andreas 113,147 Zorlu, Fatin 73-4,76, 136-7,169,230,266,272, 296, 298,302, 333 Zurich (conference) 304-6,331-2

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