Cyprus talks cannot move forward without confronting the past

By Michael P Kyriacou, Honorary President of the Cyprus Community of NSW Renewed efforts to restart negotiations over Cyprus have again raised a difficult question: can the parties build a shared future without honestly confronting the past? The leaders of the island's two communities recently agreed to meet at least weekly following calls from United Nations Secretary-General António Guterres for greater preparation before another international meeting. Their discussions are expected to cover confidence-building measures, negotiating procedures and substantive issues. Significant differences nevertheless remain over territory, security, political equality and property. Beyond these practical matters lies an equally difficult challenge: the competing historical narratives that continue to influence public trust. A lasting settlement cannot be built by acknowledging the suffering of one community while diminishing or denying the pain experienced by another. A controversy surrounding the Netflix distribution of the Cypriot television series Famagusta illustrated this problem in the past couple of years. Produced to coincide with the 50th anniversary of the 1974 Turkish invasion and continuing occupation of northern Cyprus, the series was condemned as 'black propaganda'. Its availability on Netflix was ultimately limited to Greece and Cyprus amid reports of political pressure. The controversy is no longer a current development, but the questions it raised remain relevant to today's negotiations. Should difficult historical accounts be restricted, or should they be answered through evidence, competing perspectives and open debate? Global streaming platforms possess considerable soft power. They can carry local histories and political conflicts to international audiences, moving stories beyond the control of national governments. A mature state should trust its citizens to assess a television drama for themselves. It should allow them to examine the evidence, debate its meaning and reach their own conclusions. Ancient Athenian playwright Euripides captured the cost of state-enforced silence in Phoenissae: 'This is slavery, not to speak one's thought.' National stature is not measured only through economic, military or diplomatic power. It also depends on respect for citizens, a commitment to truth and the moral courage to examine uncomfortable periods of history. Other nations have shown that confronting the past does not require abandoning national identity. Germany embedded Holocaust remembrance within its institutions and education system, while South Africa established the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Neither process erased the past, but both placed historical evidence before the public. France and Belgium offer particularly relevant examples because cinema contributed to their national reckonings. France initially banned The Battle of Algiers, which depicted French torture and Algerian terrorism during the independence struggle. The film remained unscreened in France for five years before eventually being released and studied. Days of Glory later exposed discrimination against North African soldiers who helped liberate France during the Second World War. After viewing the film, then-president Jacques Chirac moved to equalise the pensions of veterans from former French colonies. A challenging film helped generate tangible reform. Belgium maintained decades of silence over colonial violence in the Congo. A parliamentary inquiry later found the country morally responsible for the circumstances surrounding the death of Patrice Lumumba, while King Philippe expressed regret for colonial exploitation, racism and violence. Belgian filmmaker Johan Grimonprez's Soundtrack to a Coup d'Etat subsequently examined Western and Belgian involvement in the Congo crisis. These countries have not completed their historical reckonings. Their institutions nevertheless became secure enough to allow films, archives and public inquiries to expose national wrongdoing. The response to Famagusta suggested a continuing discomfort with historical scrutiny. The series could have been challenged through evidence, alternative productions and public debate. Restricting contentious material can instead weaken credibility by raising further questions about the history being protected. Any honest discussion of Cyprus must recognise the suffering experienced across the island. The UN-backed Committee on Missing Persons lists 1,510 Greek Cypriots and 492 Turkish Cypriots who remain missing from the events of 1963–64 and 1974. Recognising the grief of every community does not erase responsibility, nor should it be used to create a false equivalence between historical events. Nelson Mandela captured the danger of permanent denial: 'The experience of others has taught us that nations that do not deal with the past are haunted by it for generations.' Coming to terms with historical facts is not national surrender, nor is it an admission of collective shame. It is a sign of maturity, confidence and international standing. Honesty may be among diplomacy's most difficult instruments. Maintaining an illusion can appear easier, but the world is rarely fooled. The controversy surrounding Famagusta sharpened the same questions that remain relevant to the Cyprus negotiations: what is being protected, and why is there such nervousness about open examination? Candid discussions will be difficult, but they are necessary. Without them, families and communities will continue living beneath the shadow of an unresolved history.