Nicosia’s “Mayor for Life” Lellos Demetriades

By Janet McMahon

Until recently, unhappy residents of Washington, DC referred to its controversial then-mayor as “Mayor for Life” Marion Barry—little knowing that, 6,000 miles away, a real mayor-for-life governed the capital city of another country. In fact, in Nicosia, Cyprus, the very name Lellos—as in Lellos Demetriades—has become a virtual synonym for “mayor.”

And the mayor’s reaction to this phenomenon? “I’m getting fed up with it, myself,” the iconoclastic public servant informs visitors. His protestations to the contrary, however, Mayor Demetriades’ commitment to his city—and, indeed, to urban life in general—is apparent in his actions and innovations as well as in his 27-year tenure in office.

The mayor does not belong to any political party. “Everyone knows I am center-right,” he said, “but I’m not a fanatic. The rightists call me a bloody socialist and the socialists call me a bloody dictator,” he added with calm nonpartisanship.

Stories abound in Nicosia of the mayor’s personal visits to inspect citizen complaints. An attorney by training, his schedule leaves little time for his law practice, which includes his daughter-in-law and two sons. Nevertheless, it was the Law Office of Lellos Demetriades, led by his son Achilleas, who represented Titina Loizidou, a dispossessed Greek-speaking resident of Turkish-occupied Kyrenia, in her successful suit against Turkey at the European Court for Human Rights (see story p. 77).

An avid walker, the mayor does not limit himself to tourist areas when visiting a new city. Rather, to get a complete picture he makes a point of walking in the city’s “controversial areas” because, he maintained, “Nobody can affect that picture.”

The mayor’s avocation, however, sets him apart from his countrymen. “Cypriots hate walking,” he stated flatly. “They want to take their car to the barbershop and put it in the chair next to them.”

Not unexpectedly, then, Mayor Demetriades’ creation of a pedestrian area within the walls of the old city caused an uproar among shopkeepers and shoppers alike. “Nobody went for the first two years,” he recalled. “Then rents skyrocketed” as the area became a prime location for tourists, as well as for Cypriots becoming accustomed to the theory and practice of walking.

Today the area bustles with shoppers, souvenir seekers and restaurant-goers. In addition, a visitor to Nicosia can pick up a brochure at City Hall, just inside the walls of the old city, and follow the mayor’s recommended route for exploring the 1,000-year-old city on foot.

There is another characteristic that, much to his sorrow, has gradually made Mayor Demetriades unique. “When I became mayor,” he said, “there were five divided capitals in the world. Now the only one is Nicosia.”

Since 1963, Berlin, Jerusalem, Beirut, and Vienna, have achieved reunification, leaving Nicosia its unhappy distinction. “Nicosia is the poorest municipality in Cyprus,” the mayor noted, “with half of its area under occupation. Before the invasion, it was the only town in Cyprus with an airport. Now it’s the only town without one.”

Mayor Demetriades sees a parallel with pre-1989 Berlin. “The philosophy is the same,” he observed. “Keep people enclaved, don’t let them come into contact with each other.”

He himself, however, has refused to abide by this philosophy. From 1977 until the halt to intercommunal activities imposed by Turkish Cypriot leader Rauf Denktash in December 1977, Mayor Demetriades would occasionally meet with Mustafa Akinci, his counterpart in northern Nicosia, achieving “positive results.”

In 1980 the officials—who called themselves “representatives” rather than “mayors” during their encounters—managed to upgrade the city’s sewer system. “Most importantly,” according to Demetriades, in 1985 the two agreed on a master plan for Nicosia—one which “deals with a town which is going to be united.”

Another commitment the mayor has made to the unification of Nicosia is visible only steps away from the Green Line dividing the city. Here, amid houses that show the signs of a quarter-century of abandonment and neglect, stand newly and lovingly restored residences which are being made available to families with children. Symbolizing Nicosians’ confidence in the present and hope for the future, these families and their new homes just might end up creating a new kind of “facts on the ground”—or so it is hoped.

The 1974 Turkish invasion resulted in the loss of the most lucrative tourist sector, on the scenic north coast of the island, as well as the industrial center of Cyprus. Mayor Demetriades hopes to make the capital, Nicosia, already the economic and adminstrative center, the cultural focus of the island as well. “We’re trying to encourage day visitors to come to the capital,” he explained, “to take in our museums and experience the character of the old city.”

His personal goal sounds deceptively modest. “I hope that one day I will be able to walk around the whole city,” he said.

His short-term prediction, however, is at once dire and mischievous. The sewer system he and his northern Nicosian counterpart salvaged in 1980 is on its last legs. If Rauf Denktash continues to prevent talks between Nicosia’s two city officials, Mayor Demetriades predicts, the resulting odor will force the Turkish Cypriot leader to come to his senses.

Janet McMahon is the managing editor of the Washington Report.