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A Lens on Cyprus Reunification

An anthropologist walks around the circumference of this Mediterranean island, photographing people separated by political conflict and reflecting on the ties that bind divided communities.

By Anna Antoniou

9 Feb 2022

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An older woman with short, brown hair and glasses wearing a blue, black, and white shirt stands in front of a portrait of a seated woman wearing a blue dress in front of pink curtains.

Many of those old enough to remember life on a unified island spoke positively of the interactions between Greek and Turkish Cypriots before the conflict of the 1960s and 1970s. Stella, a Greek Cypriot in her 90s, grew up in the north and was extremely close to her Turkish Cypriot neighbors. “We were like brothers and sisters,” she says. When Turkish troops reached her village shortly after the 1974 coup, her Turkish Cypriot friends intervened on her behalf, asking the troops to spare the Greek Cypriots. Today Stella credits them for her safety and survival.

A person with a short, dark beard and sideburns wearing a navy-blue T-shirt with a yellow outline of the Batman symbol sits in front of a shelf with books and other items on it.

While older Cypriots spoke favorably of a time before the 1974 division, Cypriots who had never experienced a unified island expressed regret and shame over the ethnic conflicts that predated them. “It’s embarrassing. People on both sides lost their houses, their fortunes, and their stories,” said Kokis, a Greek Cypriot artist from the south. Cypriot youth agree there is shared blame, as well as shared loss. Another Greek Cypriot, Marios, also dismissed the notion of unilateral blame. “It’s never one side’s fault,” he said. “Both sides did horrible things and committed crimes.”

A person in a white shirt, blue jean shorts, and dark sandals sits in a brown reclining chair surrounded by framed children’s photos and a mounted deer head on the wall above.

Many Cypriots see global powers as the puppet masters of the political stalemate and blame them for pitting the two communities against each other. George, a Greek Cypriot, called Cyprus a “stationary aircraft carrier” for foreign military. “They divide us not because we did anything bad to each other, but because they want to control us,” he said. Cypriots often see their fate as being in the hands of others and feel powerless. “If [the global powers] left common people alone, they’d find a solution in 24 hours. But there will be no solution because they do not want a solution,” said another Cypriot.

A person in a white sleeveless shirt and beige shorts sits on a wooden chair warming a metal container on a small gas stove.

Most Greek and Turkish Cypriots we spoke to agree that, of all the foreign influences, Turkey is the most problematic. After 1974, roughly 100,000 Turkish immigrants settled on the island, sometimes in the abandoned homes of fleeing Cypriots. Even now, some 30,000 Turkish troops are stationed in the TRNC. For many, the presence of these troops and settlers is a nonstarter for reunification. Kyriakos, a refugee from the conflict who lost his home during the invasion, said, “The only way a solution is possible is for the Turkish military to leave, and the Turkish immigrants must leave.”

A person wearing a black-and-white striped T-shirt and a white apron holds up a small white teacup. Another person in a yellow T-shirt, blue jeans, and a black apron bends down to them with their arm around the other person’s shoulders.

The Turkish settler community often feels the xenophobia. Ferhat (right), a student from Turkey studying in Northern Cyprus, said of the local Turkish Cypriots, “They do not like me here. They are mean to me because I am from Turkey.” While some Greek and Turkish Cypriots are adamantly against a Turkish presence on the island, others realize Turkish settlers have established deep roots in Cyprus within the last 48 years. To expel this community would put them through the same anguish Cypriots experienced in 1974 when they were forced to leave their homes.

A person with graying facial hair wearing a blue striped shirt sits at a glass-top table in front of short trees and bushes, and a sign with food on it.

Although they do not share a language, religion, or territory, Cypriots retain a single cultural identity, with Greek and Turkish being secondary affiliations. George, a restaurant owner in the south, expressed a feeling we heard from almost everyone we met on our journey: “Nothing separates us. They are not Turkish, and we are not Greek. We are Cypriots. The only difference is religion, and it does not matter. We think the same. We are the same.”

A person with white hair wearing a dark dress and a black head covering stands under a tree in front of a brown chair and plants in stone pots.

Christina embodies the island’s bi-communalism. A Greek Cypriot, she refused to leave the north during the 1974 conflict and has lived her entire life in one of the few remaining integrated villages. When her husband died, her Turkish Cypriot neighbors took care of her and helped her make Greek Orthodox funeral arrangements. She dismissed the religious differences between the communities, saying, “Whether you pray to our God or Allah, it’s the same thing, the same God.”

A person wearing a pink shirt holds a large bottle of yellow liquid and stands behind a table with salt-rimmed glasses, half an orange, and other objects on it.

Despite Cypriot identity superseding all else, many fear a unique Turkish Cypriot culture is dying because of the influx of Turkish immigrants and the “Turkification” of the island’s culture. For nearly 30 years after 1974, Turkish Cypriots and the TRNC were essentially cut off from the south and the outside world. This isolation forced them to rely solely on Turkey for essentials like food and water, as they were unable to trade or interact with any other countries. As Musa, a Turkish Cypriot boat captain, said, “[This] isolation makes us assimilate” to Turkish customs and culture.

A person wearing a dark blue and green striped shirt sits at a table with a bright red table cloth on a restaurant patio under an open umbrella.

The north is less isolated than it used to be, but with the steady flow of immigrants from Turkey, Turkish Cypriots are now the minority in Northern Cyprus. Kemal, a teacher from the north, says Turkish Cypriots and Greek Cypriots “have many commonalities—culturally, our foods, our communication, we are both very loud!” But he worries these similarities are dwindling. “The Turkish Cypriot identity is in danger right now,” he explained. “The problem is that there is a population shift to the island from Turkey, so you see Turkish Cypriots assimilating to Turkish customs and ways, creating on the island a Turkish identity, not a Cypriot identity.”

A photograph taken in a car over the shoulder of a person wearing an orange shirt and glasses shows the person's face in the sideview mirror.

In 2004, 76 percent of Greek Cypriots voted against a reunification referendum. Now, it seems, some have changed their minds. Everyone we interviewed wants reunification, but none more than residents of Deryneia, a village bifurcated by the buffer zone. “The divide is an ever-present part of life,” said Flora, a villager whose land was seized by the U.N. during the separation. Deryneia voted for the 2004 referendum. Those living farther south, who benefited from the flood of tourism to southern beaches after the popular northern shores became inaccessible to vacationers, voted against reunification, Flora explained.

A person wearing a blue tank top and pink shorts sits with their knees to their chest and talks to another person in a multicolored shirt and blue jean shorts as they lean on a blue and white wall.

How to achieve reunification is open for debate. People are acutely aware that Cyprus’ future is increasingly in the hands of those who only know a divided island. Some see the benefit of this. Anthos (right, speaking with the author), a Greek Cypriot, believes older Cypriots are too scarred to reunify. “Our generation, those who remember 1974, still hurt. The more generations that pass, the easier it will be to unify,” he said. Others agreed. Günay, a Turkish Cypriot, said, “We must trust each other first. We don’t right now, and we need more time.”

A person wearing a purple shirt and a brown watch rests their arm on a wooden chair in front of a table with a purple and blue plaid tablecloth on it.

Yet others worry too much time has passed since the split. Kemal, a Turkish Cypriot, is bilingual in Greek and Turkish because he grew up on a unified island. He pointed out that Cypriots have forgotten how to communicate with one another. “If we spoke the same, the country could be more unified. We have lost a lot of time already. This needs to happen,”he urged. Others fear that tourism and economic growth have distracted the younger generations, and that those who don’t know the joys of unification are too complacent to fight for a reunified Cyprus.

A person wearing a white T-shirt, blue jean shorts, and sunglasses sits on the steps of an old stone building with large brown doors.

In contrast, some Cypriot youth think they’ve learned from the mistakes of the past. Petros voted against the last reunification referendum. Since then, he realized, “Cyprus cannot wait for a perfect solution but must unify first and work toward equality together.” Although most young Cypriots are not bilingual in Greek and Turkish, many speak English, and some see English as the solution to the language barrier. Another young Cypriot said, “Turkish Cypriots and Greek Cypriots live together in London and Australia. Why can’t they live together here?” The answer remains to be seen. At the most recent formal reunification talks, in April 2021, the U.N. determined there was not enough common ground for the two governments to resume negotiations. Despite the people’s wish to reunify, Cyprus remains in a stalemate.

✽

Panikos sat on a beach in Cyprus, dressed in a blue Speedo and straw hat, sipping whiskey with his friends. Behind him, the Mediterranean Sea provided a strangely idyllic backdrop to the topic of our conversation: colonialism, a military coup, and segregation.

“They play with us,” Panikos lamented.

“Who plays with you?” I asked.

“It was the British before, and it is the Turkish now,” he replied.

In 1974, in response to a Greece-backed coup, Turkish troops invaded Cyprus and seized roughly 40 percent of the island. To this day, the country remains divided—ethnically, politically, and geographically. But after nearly half a century, the people want their island back. And that is why I traveled from the U.S. to Cyprus.

I am a Cypriot American anthropologist, and in 2016, I turned my anthropological eye toward my ancestral homeland through a very personal ethnographic expedition. My brother, godbrother, and I walked the circumference of Cyprus—400 miles in 60 days—to gather narratives and images that reflect a multifaceted Cypriot identity. Our goal was to generate a holistic picture of the island’s landscapes, cultures, and people.

We wanted to get past state-sponsored rhetoric, talk to real people living their real lives, and answer one simple question: What unites this divided island?

✽

Cypriots are used to being fought over. Cyprus’ location in the Eastern Mediterranean has attracted nearly every major power in history, from the Mycenaeans to the British Empire. After 82 years of British rule ceased in 1960, Cyprus maintained 14 years of precarious independence. Tensions simmered between the island’s ethnically Turkish and Greek communities, who were then mixed evenly across the country.

These tensions boiled over in 1974. The conflict led to the partitioning of the island into the Republic of Cyprus and the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC), an occupied territory recognized only by Turkey. The regions are separated by a United Nations buffer zone that spans more than 112 miles and is overseen by one of the longest U.N. peacekeeping missions in history.

Read more about the archaeology of Cyprus’ conflict: “Can the Hunt for Skeletons Help Heal a Nation’s Wounds?”

Today there are few Greek Cypriots in the north and few Turkish Cypriots in the south. Nicosia (also called Λευκωσία in Greek and Lefkoşa in Turkish) holds the unenviable title of the world’s last divided capital. A wall splits the city in two, but the communities on either side share a history, habitat, and infrastructure. Despite these connections, the alienated communities remain unfamiliar to one another. And although there have been many attempts to unify Cyprus, the barbed wire that bifurcates the island holds strong.

Before I started this project, I hypothesized that decades of isolation, alienation, and foreign interference had destroyed any unifying voice in Cyprus. As it turned out, I was wrong.

When Panikos and his friends invited us to their weekly beach barbecue, I asked him how he, a Greek Cypriot, felt about Turkish Cypriots. “We are the same people,” he quickly declared. “Even if we do not speak the same language, we find a way to communicate.”

My brother, godbrother, and I interviewed dozens of people during our walk, and we heard this sentiment from nearly everyone. Despite 48 years of division, Greek and Turkish Cypriots consider themselves a single community and desire reunification. The portraits in this photo essay honor the individuals who bravely shared their experiences with us. They highlight the feelings that unite Cypriots and illustrate their persistent capacity for hope.

The island’s prolonged segregation is a cautionary tale for our times. Now more than ever, people around the world are living amid political, economic, racial, and social fracturing. But there is a valuable lesson in these stories from Cyprus. If we look beyond the borders within our own lives, perhaps we will also find more uniting us than dividing us.

Anna Antoniou

Anna Antoniou is an anthropologist and archaeologist who draws on a mix of storytelling and four-field methods to help communities across the globe regain crucial parts of their cultural heritage. As a Cypriot American, she brought her academic interests home through a 400-mile ethnographic walk around Cyprus that explored the cultural and political dynamics of the division on the island. Her current research uses an archaeological understanding of past foodways to serve Indigenous communities in Washington state in their efforts to revitalize traditional foodways. She received her Ph.D. from the University of Michigan and is the 2021–2022 Andrew W. Mellon Foundation Native American Scholars Initiative postdoctoral fellow at the American Philosophical Society.

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A Lens on Cyprus Reunification