Is the Greek Constitution something that can be written, erased, and rewritten? Perhaps a Dane could claim so, but not a Swede, a Frenchman, a German, or an Italian.
The last time Denmark amended its constitutional charter was the distant 1953, to ensure gender equality on the throne—finally, a queen. But this is rather the exception to the rule. In the past fifty years alone, the highlighter of revision has erased and written new provisions dozens of times in Germany, France, or Italy. The Germans, among others, “constitutionalized” environmental protection and the “debt brake.”
The French incorporated the “Environmental Charter” into their Constitution and reduced the President’s term from seven to five years. The Italians reduced the number of their deputies and senators, incorporated the “balanced budget,” and guaranteed greater autonomy to the regions.
Based on the much-praised “international experience,” we are therefore not talking about some of those Greek exceptions that keep the country away from European norms. Nor are we dealing with some constitutional whirlwind tormenting the Third Hellenic Republic. As elsewhere, what was conceived as theory but proved minimally functional in practice is revised—or what the synchronization with the present era requires is incorporated.
This is the constitutional curve everywhere. The Constitution reflects the evolution of private life and public life. The charter is a mosaic of individual rights, common good, and institutional regulations.
Fine—but “in which direction”? Here is where the matter invites much discussion. No one disagrees that the Constitution should change with the slowness of a snail—“Gary,” let’s say—crossing a painted line on the road, preferably yellow, to reduce the risk of being crushed. But how?
Thus, the process of constitutional revision becomes a challenge of consensus and an exercise in the political system’s maturity. The matter indeed invites much discussion, but the discussion has two essential prerequisites: one, that the parliamentary majority does not propose changes on terms of political dominance; and two, that the parliamentary minority does not act out of a sterile, familiar opposition. Of course, the parameter of numerical ratios in the party system cannot be ignored—but it cannot be the axis of the discussion either.
This applies to this revision as well. A discussion between the many who feel they hold both the knife and the melon and the few who throw stones is exhausted from the start. The real risk now is the “toxicization” of constitutional revision, which is far more destructive than the crushing of a carefree, blissful snail.
In the process of constitutional revision, such carefree and blissful attitudes have no place. The Constitution is not subject to a business-as-usual, deeply polarized dialogue with enough suspicion to poison public life. It is not a battle, but an understanding. Can it happen?
Time will tell, as the snail crosses the yellow line and the discussion reaches its conclusion. No prophetic abilities are needed, however, to foresee that the challenge of consensus becomes even greater in a pre-election environment.
That, yes, would be a Greek exception: the Constitution having changed much, little, or not at all, while in the meantime, as a secular Bible and text of texts, having undergone a traumatic experience.
Farewell, Gary.
