For sale: One Parthenon, slightly worn
A couple of years ago I led a Diggings tour in Greece and Italy. As required by law, we had to have local guides everywhere we went. I was mildly amused on the first day when the guide took advantage of a gap between sights to give us a harangue on the iniquity of the British in refusing to hand over the Elgin Marbles, together with an impassioned plea for their return to their home on the Parthenon (or rather, in the ghastly new Parthenon Museum.)
I was less amused when the following day our new guide launched into an almost word-for-word harangue and plea, but out of politeness I said nothing, even though I feel fairly strongly that the Elgin Marbles were rightfully acquired by Britain and that there is no legal or moral reason why they should be returned to Greece. Reproductions are another matter and should certainly be made available to the Greeks at a resonable price - though whether that would satisfy the Greeks is doubtful.
When, however, the third guide started on her harangue and passionate plea I felt that enough was enough and called a halt by the simple expedient of asking why the Marbles should be returned to Greece. The guide, who had simply memorised her required speech and never given any thought to the subject, was flummoxed and after floundering a bit suggested that they belonged on the Parthenon. When I pointed out that a) they weren't going to be put back on the Parthenon, and b) if they were, they would suffer certain destruction from the awful air pollution in Athens that has reduced the Caryatids to formless lumps of marble, she had nothing further to say and returned to lecturing us - the uncharitable might say, hectoring us - on the scenery we were passing.
As we had a different guide each day, this became a regular part of the tour. As soon as the guide - male or female - started on his harangue I would pose my question and the baffled guide would come up with a different reason each time. One, I fear, betrayed the real reason why the Greeks want the Marbles back when, almost in tears but with immense feeling, she exclaimed, "But there in the British Museum, no one is making any money out of them!"
Perhaps the funniest was when one of the guides thought for a moment and then solemnly explained that the Marbles were created for the Parthenon and they "needed" the Parthenon - art calling to art, sort of thing. I jokingly replied that in that case the solution was simple. Sell the Parthenon to Britain. We could ship it over to London away from the air pollution that is destroying it and reunite it with the Marbles and thus all the artistic requirements would be met. The enormity of the idea had the guide almost inarticulate with rage and he spluttered for a full minute before he recalled that his tip depended on keeping my goodwill and subsided.
Yet, it seems, others have the same idea.
For the last couple of decades Greece has been living in the fantasy world of fast money and long-term loans. A degree of creative accounting has kept the facts hidden from the strait-laced officials of the European Union - which is why the bankrupt nation was allowed to join the Euro, the common European currency - and Greek people have been able to enjoy the good life of little work and large salaries by negotiating loan after loan on the world market. Long siestas, inefficient work practices and nation-wide tax evasion, means that the Greek economy has long been broke.
Now, at last, the world-wide economic crisis has caused the supply of easy and cheap loans to run dry and the Greeks have woken up to discover the banks empty, the government bankrupt and their fantasy world in ruins. Naturally, it is everyone's fault except the Greeks'. The Greek prime minister appeared on national television to declare that it was all the Germans' fault for stealing Greece's gold during the Second World War. Strangely, none of the other countries looted by the Nazis have had any problems and it has taken sixty years for the Greeks to wake up to the fact, so perhaps there may be other factors involved?
Nonetheless, the idea that it is all the Germans' fault and they owe it to Greece to bail her out has taken a deep hold on the national consciousness. (The idea that your average citizen might actually pay taxes is, of course, preposterous. What would the nation do for recreation if there was no more tax evasion?) And if not the Germans, then someone else. Greeks deserve to be bailed out because - well - because they are Greeks. (Like all comedy, that splendid film, My Big Fat Greek Wedding has more truth in it than you might suppose.)
The Germans, predictably, are less enthusiastic and while the German Treasury has issued a ponderous announcement that not a single cent will be given to help the Greeks continue to avoid paying income tax, a prominent German politician has come up with a creative solution: he suggested that Greece might raise a bit of money by selling off its hundreds of uninhabited islands and even some of its artistic treasures. The Parthenon was specifically mentioned!
Of course there are numerous practical difficulties in the way of this proposal. Nearly all the suitable islands have already been snapped up by millionaires and film stars and the ones remaining are barren little lumps of rock with no water supply, no vegetation (because there is no soil) and no landing place, so it is uncertain who might be in the market for such a purchase. In any case, a quick back-of-envelope calculation suggests that even if Greece were to sell off every one of its uninhabited islands at - say - £2,000,000 each, it would only raise a bit over two billion dollars, a mere drop in the ocean of Greece's debt.
That leaves the Parthenon. I freely admit that it won't look quite the same set in the rolling acres of Hyde Park instead of standing proud on the Acropolis, but the Greeks can always erect a polystyrene replica on the Acropolis and, as our Greek friend pointed out, it makes artistic sense for the Marbles and the temple they adorned to be reunited.
Donations may be sent to the British Museum, clearly marked "Acropolis Purchase Fund."
© Kendall K. Down 2010
