Greece: The Besieged King

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Royal Refusal. When morning came, the soldiers also came to call on the man in whose name they had seized power: young King Constantine II, who was at his home in Tatoi Palace 16 miles north of Athens, where he lives with his beautiful Danish-born wife Anne-Marie and a baby daughter. When the officers told the King what they had done, he protested angrily, refused to sign a proclamation praising the coup and calling for the public's cooperation. He also refused to agree to the formation of a new government. Later that morning, Constantine drove to the defense ministry building in Athens that Greeks call the Pentagon (even though it is oblong). There he spent the rest of the day trying to persuade officers loyal to him that the coup was in no one's interest and that it was a betrayal of all the things modern Greece stood for. He failed, and returned despondently to Tatoi Palace to consult with his advisers and receive visitors.

As the head of government, Constantine still reigned over Greece, and without his consent no governmental action could legally be taken. Yet the palace coup that had occurred without the palace's consent offered him a cruel choice: either to fight the coup openly and risk being toppled from his throne or go along reluctantly in the hope of being able to influence the military later. For the time being, he chose the latter course.

Right v. Left. A solid, handsome man who, at 26, is the world's youngest monarch, Constantine thus became a besieged king, caught between the demagoguery and displeasure of Greece's leftists and the impetuous action of the rightist military. The dilemma was all the more ironic because the military is strongly promonarchist. It constantly invoked the royal name for every action during the coup, and moved to seize power chiefly because it feared that the King's enemies would win the parliamentary elections scheduled for May 28. The generals feared that victory would go to George Papandreou, 79, and his son Andreas, 48, the King's archenemies. The elder Papandreou, who resigned as Premier in a dispute with the King almost two years ago, had made it clear that he would interpret the election outcome as a plebiscite for or against the monarchy. His campaign slogan was: "Who rules Greece? The King or the people?" By the people he meant, of course, himself.

In Greece, the military is so closely tied to the monarchy that any threat to one is a threat to the other. The Greek army's loyalty to the crown has long been the chief underpinning of the monarchy, and the King's close ties to the military are symbolized by the army uniform—with decks of medals—that he wears on formal occasions. In turn, the top echelons of the army become restive whenever the King's prerogatives come under attack. Men of position who are a firm part of the Greek Establishment, they know that attacks on the monarchy threaten the system that grants them their privileges. Thus they were even willing to act against the King's will while protesting that they only sought to protect the monarchy.