Just a few years ago, the murder of a woman by her husband or partner would often be relegated to the back pages of newspapers, concealed behind phrases such as “crime of passion.” Decades passed after the international adoption of the term “femicide” — a term that describes the crime in its true dimension, namely the killing of a woman precisely because she is a woman — before Greek society was forced to confront its own reflection without embellishment or excuses.
Today, the killing of the 39-year-old woman in the city of Kalamata is added to the long list of cases in a phenomenon with which society appears to be becoming increasingly familiar. Since 2020, 77 women have lost their lives: four in 2020, 15 in 2021, 13 in 2022, six in 2023, 15 in 2024, 19 in 2025, while from the beginning of 2026 alone, five killings have already been recorded.
This is where the demand for the legislative recognition of femicide as a distinct and more serious form of homicide enters the discussion. In recent months, the proposal has also moved into the sphere of constitutional debate, with its supporters pointing to the continued rise in such crimes and the particular gravity of acts motivated by gender-based contempt. Although far from uncontroversial and accompanied by significant objections, the debate has succeeded in drawing attention to issues deeply rooted in society, shifting focus away from complex technical matters which, while important for citizens’ already fragile trust in institutions, often seem detached from everyday life.
At the same time, however, this constitutional discussion is accompanied by government assurances that seek validation through statistics. To support this narrative, officials point to figures from the first four months of 2026, during which 3,850 arrests were made for domestic violence, arguing that the phenomenon has now gained the visibility it requires. Yet how far can the mere acknowledgment of a problem through statistics go when public safety remains a central government priority and, at the same time, the country is recording a new femicide almost every month?
The Constitution and statistics, some would argue, are the easiest way to create the impression of addressing a social ill without genuinely attempting to solve it. Deferring solutions to constitutional reform and selectively interpreting data — practices that are far from uncommon in Greece — only reinforce this skepticism.
In this case, however, that suspicious and at times justified counterargument must be disproved. To achieve that, any reforms should form part of a comprehensive crime-prevention strategy that makes a meaningful contribution to preventing violence before it occurs, rather than waiting for the next tragedy and once again claiming to have found the solution in the Constitution and in the numbers.
