The passing of King Constantine II of the Hellenes—a former king who had been removed from the throne for almost a half-century—was not unanticipated; he was old and in poor health, with declining mobility.
But how the Greek government handled the death of a former head of state was another matter. It showed callous expediency rather than statesmanship, all in the name of second-guessing the impact the event might have on parliamentary elections in Greece in July 2023.
Constantine II, 82, the former and last king of Greece, died at the Hygeia Hospital in Athens on the eve of Jan. 10. His grandfather, Constantine the Soldier, had died 100 years earlier on the same day, but one.
He was, as a former head of state, entitled to a state funeral. Even the nominally-conservative government of Mitsotakis would not have dared to have denied a state funeral for, say, a former communist or socialist head of state of Greece. The Greek electorate has probably taken note of the fear that governed Mitsotakis’s decision not to give a state funeral for the king.
Unsurprisingly, Mitsotakis will not attend the funeral; he will send the deputy prime minister and culture minister. But King Constantine attended the funeral of Mitsotakis’ father, despite being severely ill, and wept for the politician.
Conservative and monarchist voters (and there are many of those in Greece) would have noted that the prime minister abandoned the king as a means of pandering to the left. The left voters would have noted that Mitsotakis worried about them to the point where he would sacrifice even more moral principles to win their vote and, therefore, could be pressured further.
Senior members of the British royal family were to attend. It was expected that the private funeral would attract the attendance of royals—regnant or otherwise—from around Europe. It is clear that the Greek government would quietly facilitate their visits and offer security and logistics to them and other foreign officials attending the private funeral.
Constantine was born in Athens on June 2, 1940. He was the second child and only son of King Paul (Pavlos) I and Queen Frederica. A 101-gun salute was fired from Lycabettus Hill to announce his birth. He was christened at the Athens Palace (now the Presidential Palace) on July 20, 1940, with a delegation of the armed forces as sponsors.
He served as King of the Hellenes from March 6, 1964, to June 1, 1973, when the military junta of April 21, 1967 (“the Revolution of April 21”) abolished the monarchy and adopted the constitution of a presidential-parliamentary republic. This was ratified by the referendum of July 29, 1973. Constantine had two sisters, Sophia and Irene. Sophia was the queen of Spain from 1975 until the abdication of her husband, King Juan Carlos I, in 2014 and the accession of their son Philip VI to the Spanish throne.
The royal family, the government, and the leadership of the armed forces, on the eve of the Nazi advance on Athens, evacuated via Crete to Egypt, where they formed the “[Hellenic] Government of Egypt” and became heads of Greek battalions fighting in Africa against the Axis. He later resided in South Africa. They returned to Greece in 1946 with the return of King George II. A year later, in 1947, after the sudden death of George II, his father ascended the throne, and Constantine was named heir.
He was given the title of Duke of Sparta in 1955. Constantine attended the National School of Anavryta in Maroussi and courses at the military schools of Evelpidon and the Law School of the University of Athens, as well as a number of other courses and foreign language classes. After coming of age, he was awarded the ranks of infantry lieutenant, navy ensign, and lieutenant (June 28, 1958). He won a gold medal for sailing at the Rome Olympics on Sept. 8, 1960.
On March 6, 1964, King Paul died of cancer and was succeeded by King Constantine II of Greece. On Dec. 13, 1967, Constantine attempted to overthrow the military junta, which had taken over Greece and failed. He then went into exile, first in Italy and then in Great Britain, and in the last years—the military junta having long gone—he was able to settle permanently in Greece.
After the collapse of the dictatorship and the restoration of democracy on July 24, 1974, the government of Constantine Karamanlis called a referendum, held on Dec. 8, 1974, and abolished the monarchy.
The king made some mistakes during his reign and paid the price for them. What Greek politician has not made major mistakes that led the country into decades of strategic mediocrity, poor economic performance, or compromised security? At its core, however, was the reality that the “colonels’ coup”—the April 21 Revolution—was illegal itself and set in train a series of actions that compromised the Hellenic world (Greece and Cyprus, essentially) to this day. This is acknowledged by most Greek analysts of all political persuasions. The military junta’s referendum on July 21, 1973—to declare Greece a republic—was considered invalid when the military government collapsed in 1974.
King Constantine had been forced to flee the country on Dec. 13, 1967, following an unsuccessful countercoup against the junta. Still, he remained legally as head of state in exile until the junta abolished the monarchy on June 1, 1973.
The new (conservative) government of Prime Minister Constantine Karamanlis, which came to power on July 24, 1974, decided to hold another referendum on the matter, given that acts by the junta were considered void. But Karamanlis was jealous of the power and wanted a politician as head-of-state; he wanted a political republic.
That shaped how the referendum would be waged.
Karamanlis banned King Constantine from returning to Greece to campaign in the referendum and was allowed only to make a televised address to the nation. As well, how the referendum was shaped was designed to merely rubber-stamp a proposal by Karamanlis to affirm the politicians’ republic, and the proposal was approved by 69.2 percent of voters with a turnout of 75.6 percent.
In that regard, Karamanlis was just a politician who was glad that the military junta did the “dirty work” for him. He could appear to have clean hands in approving the seizure of legitimacy and the guardianship of constitutional guarantees from the crown.
Karamanlis had no love for the royal family, especially Constantine’s mother, Frederika, who he felt was too involved in politics. Karamanlis himself had gone into self-exile in 1963 after a clash with the palace and subsequently took every opportunity to slander the king, particularly Queen Frederika, because of her German heritage and even though she had worked tirelessly for disadvantaged Greeks.
The Wikipedia entry on the matter showed the politicians’ argument: “The final straw for Karamanlis’ Government was his clash with the Palace in Summer 1963, over the projected visit of the royal pair to Britain. Karamanlis opposed the trip, as he feared it would provide the occasion for demonstrations against the political prisoners still held in Greece since the Civil War. Karamanlis’ relations with the palace had been declining for some time, particularly with Queen Frederika and the Crown Prince [Constantine], but the Prime Minister also clashed with King Paul over the latter’s opposition to proposed constitutional amendments that would empower the government, the [untrue claim of] extravagant lifestyle of the royal family, and the near-monopoly that the King claimed over control of the armed forces. When the King rejected his advice to postpone the trip to London, Karamanlis resigned and left the country.”
The new (2022) Australian government of Prime Minister Anthony Albanese is watching with great interest the handling of the funeral arrangements for King Constantine, for Mr. Albanese has already said that he hopes to use a referendum to dispose of Australia’s monarchy, despite polling in Australia that shows the overwhelming popularity of the Australian monarchy.
Albanese, like Karamanlis, knows it is all about how referenda are worded. Certainly, Greek Australians are watching this double situation—the handling of the funeral of King Constantine and the impending thrust by Albanese to replace Australia’s monarchy and its governor-general with a politician—with interest. And significantly, Melbourne in Australia is the third largest “Greek city” after Athens and Thessaloniki.
The bitter taste of the passing of King Constantine is not merely sadness at the passing of someone who devoted his life to his country, regardless of position or ideology; it is the bitterness of ignoble political expediency, which is sadder than death.
