Incorrigible
When Rena Dourou, the former SYRIZA regional governor, remarked, “I had a stroke of bad luck on my watch,” following the deadly wildfire in eastern Attica in 2018, it elicited public outrage for a simple reason: not because there can’t be instances of “bad luck” during a term as governor, but because such occurrences are inherently part of the risks politicians undertake when assuming crucial posts. Responsibility entails subjecting all potentialities to the scrutiny of competent officials to mitigate risk, removing it from abstract contingency and placing it under specific authority. High-ranking officials are not compensated solely for their appearance or name, but to bear the immense burden of citizen security, embody responsibility, and manage both the predictable and unpredictable. The job is not easy, but no one ever said it is. The “job description” is known from the outset. Therefore, when a “stroke of bad luck” arises, citizens expect a pragmatic acknowledgment of the error, accompanied by accountability and justice. Rhetorical maneuvers regarding political responsibility serve as hollow symbolism and nothing more. The 2023 Tempe railway crash exemplified how the moral lesson from the Mati fire was disregarded. Furthermore, the recent behavior of New Democracy members who attacked or ridiculed Rena Dourou underscores that their issue was not her attitude but her party affiliation. The enthusiastic applause for Kostas A. Karamanlis in Parliament spoke volumes about their stance.
Pleased with himself
The speech delivered by the former conservative transport minister during the debate on the no-confidence motion was a study on apathy. No one was expecting to see Karamanlis shed actual tears; after all a display wouldn’t have been particularly useful. However, ordinary citizens in a democracy certainly expected the moral consequence of tears: self-criticism, a fundamental account of what went wrong, and meaningful explanations. Regrettably, the former minister opted for a tactic of provocative contradiction. On the one hand, he emphasized that he is not the type of person who avoids admitting to mistakes (implicitly suggesting that his SYRIZA colleagues are), yet on the other hand, he failed to acknowledge even a single one of his own errors (beyond offering some cost-free and impersonal generalities). He was lavish, however, in his direct and indirect self-praise, lamenting the hateful attacks he endured from “dark apparatuses” and asserting that he carried out his duties in a moral and honest manner. He overlooked the fundamentals: Hateful attacks pale in comparison to the loss of 57 lives and are, in any case, negligible. His morality and honesty are his concern; ours is his effectiveness, an area in which he performed abysmally.
Obligatory bonus
It is noteworthy that the former minister not only refrained from stepping away from politics after his ministerial debacle, as many had recommended, but also displayed remarkable confidence by launching a counterattack. But against whom was this counterattack directed? Against the relatives of the victims? Against his critics? Yes, because for the New Democracy MP, the issue revolves around him rather than around the accident, the deceased, or the flawed state apparatus. What’s even more striking is that his counteroffensive lacked substance; it relied not on arguments but on the support of others. Firstly, his voters; according to Karamanlis, his re-election by the citizens of Serres serves as the ultimate response to any suspicion of his competence being questioned. Yet, as if the backing of his electorate wasn’t sufficient, he also roped in the prime minister in his self-exonerating strategy: Anyone who criticizes him, in essence, is attacking Kyriakos Mitsotakis. The message was communicated to the electorate, and New Democracy appears to endorse it: Every choice carries its own burdens; sometimes, when you choose one, you inadvertently receive the other as an obligatory bonus.
