The scene in the Greek opposition is reminiscent of… jelly.
The new party Tsipras is presented on paper, because no one has seen its programmatic principles as a “coalition” of social democracy, radical Left and political ecology. Three different worlds under one roof—if this isn’t already the logic of a “popular front”, then what is it?
The name ELAS deliberately evokes the struggles of the Left with a touch of national resistance, and at the same time sets a patriotic tone that seeks to reach beyond the traditional audience of SYRIZA. A “big tent,” in other words, built to accommodate—at least for now—many. The fact that it is already rising in the polls can only act as a magnet for others who feel cornered.
And now the real… reality: despite what his symbolic performance suggests, Alexis Tsipras does not seem to be seeking anything more and nothing less than the dissolution—to the point of extinction—of all other offshoots of whatever remains of the Left and the conquest of a single sole leadership seat on the leftist throne.
PASOK split in two
As for PASOK, officially the distance from ELAS is great; some even speak of “non-aligned” parties, and Androulakis has drawn red lines, warning that anyone who deviates from the line will be expelled.
And yet, members of the Political Council recently hinted that in a potential second round of voting, a PASOK-SYRIZA/ELAS alliance would not be entirely out of the question, provided the “right” way to phrase it can be found. The warning of expulsion came within a few days—but it came after the statement, not before. The fact that it was stated so clearly may well mean that some within PASOK consider the scenario quite viable.
Both, however, have fallen into a trap that is already apparent to the public, which has begun to react by mocking it: that of cost-free one-upmanship. Free public transportation, abolition of national exams, and other oft-repeated, uncalculated, and cost-free measures, which have ultimately left an indelible mark on both the cohesion and the conscience of society.
Konstantopoulou, again, keeps her distance from the “command-and-control” model of the Hellenic Police —a critique that, if read carefully, concerns form more than substance. At the same time, she already has her own connection to Mélenchon’s “Unsubmissive France” —that is, with the exact same “popular front” model that one could theoretically imagine for Greece.
The thread, in other words, does not need to be invented; it already exists, it simply operates on a completely different level than what would be required for a domestic front. How far, I wonder, is it from “we cooperate with Mélenchon in Brussels” to “we cooperate with those who cooperate with Mélenchon, at home”?
And somewhere in the mix is ANTARSYA, not as a party apparatus ready for Parliament but as a regulatory ideological factor. Given that this is a coalition that built its identity in opposition to what it considers the “government-oriented” stance of the Left. Anyone who remembers how SYRIZA itself was born—from a coalition of small and mutually contradictory groups, which within a few years became a governing party—also remembers how quickly positions that seem unyielding today can change.
The Greek Left has a long history of splits that, sooner or later, are reunited—albeit with new names, new leaders, and those who had left returning through a different door after having constructed the “ideal narrative.”
Blind anti-Mitsotakis sentiment
Finally, finally, a more practical reason why such scenarios never completely disappear from the discussions in the corridors: the numbers. As long as New Democracy maintains a steady lead and the battle for second place remains open, the idea that the real opponent is on the other side becomes all the more tempting. What is the ultimate glue holding this unorthodox scenario together? The fall of Kyriakos Mitsotakis—even if there is no alternative, something that has to do with the functioning of the country, but which likely does not interest the opposition.
