Kostas Vaxevanis: "The only way for the Greek people to know about their own country is through the foreign press"

The Greek journalist, who was instrumental in the publication of the "Lagarde list" of major tax evaders in October 2012, talks to the NS's Daniel Trilling.

Kostas Vaxevanis is a Greek journalist. As editor of the investigative magazine HotDoc, in October 2012 he published the leaked “Lagarde list” of major tax evaders – an act for which he has been pursued by the Greek authorities, raising questions about a crackdown on independent journalism. The New Statesman caught up with Vaxevanis during a recent trip to London to receive Index on Censorship’s Freedom of Expression Award.

New Statesman: In your acceptance speech for the Index award, you raised the spectre of Greece’s dictatorship years. Is there any danger of a return to that kind of period?

Vaxevanis: It is worrying what is happening in Greece as I said in my speech. It is the first time since the last dictatorship that people can’t rely on the press to see what is happening in their own country. The Greek media for example didn’t cover the case while I was being prosecuted a few months ago.

Every day in Greece, we face the effects of the crisis and there are new measures that are being taken that goes against every right of the public. These new regulations don’t even go through parliament – there is actually a law where you can have a new decision signed by the president under emergency clauses and then rectify it later by the prime minister so they are basically governing the country under presidential decrees and statutes.

They basically pass new laws in whatever way possible to serve certain interests and parts of society and political systems. For example when the agricultural bank of Greece, was supposed to pay millions [in tax], a new law was passed that said they didn’t have to pay anything.

Many TV channels and newspapers are owned by business interests that might benefit from such laws. Has political interference in the media become more common as the crisis gets worse?

In Greece, like in many countries, there is a relationship where the media tries to hold government to account and government will try to hide things. It is ultimately a conflict of interest. Any kind of independent journalism is seen as a threat.

For many years they managed to manipulate the media: for example, you would have a journalist working in the government’s press office and public PR offices and for big businesses. Often these are big businesses that have links and dealings with the government.

During the crisis there has been a greater need for journalists to speak out, but then they automatically become an enemy of the government. I have just received a message from a friend and colleague where he congratulates me for my [Index ] award, but apologises that he can’t say anything about it this evening in his television programme.

The cross-over between journalism and politics is common in Britain and other countries, to a certain extent. What is different about Greece right now?

Of course this is happening everywhere, it’s of course not just a Greek problem, but it has gone to the next level where ministers have complete impunity and they have methods of acting really fast to serve their own interests. And of course this is amplified by the crisis.

For example one of the biggest scandals was with Proton Bank, where the owner bought ten to twenty per cent of twenty-two different media outlets, to make sure no one would write anything against him. And there is no law to prevent a business from spreading in such a way.

The existence of privately-owned, unregulated television channels goes back well before the financial crisis. What sort of long-term effect has this had on Greek society? The TV channels have been blamed for encouraging anti-immigration attitudes, for example.

They have a huge part of the responsibility for that culture of the last ten or twenty years; consumerism and people not being engaged in what is happening, and not caring about the impact of their political action.

With immigration, in the last few years since the bailout, the role of the media has been to create fear among the people. And the most obvious way of creating fear would be to amplify the danger of immigration in Greece. And we would often hear about [the far-right party] Golden Dawn in the news. They would try to create the view: “yes all of us who are in power might be corrupt, but if we stopped being in power and being in control then there is always that danger. So it is basically better to have this corrupt system than any government at all.”

So the media were exaggerating the threat of Golden Dawn?

Yes but it was a two-way thing. By exaggerating the threat of Golden Dawn they are giving them a voice and then it becomes bigger by appearing as a threat and it gives them a new way of communicating with the public.

What they are trying to do is presenting the “two opposites” view where Golden Dawn is one extreme and [the left-wing] Syriza is the other. They are trying to do what they are doing in Italy where they say “well you have these two polar opposites, all you have to do is come somewhere in the middle, where we are. We might be corrupt but you sure don’t want any of those two.”

What happens in the media outside of Greece can have quite a big effect on Greek politics. So for journalists and people outside of Greece what is the most important thing they could be doing?

The only way for the Greek people to know about their own country is through the foreign press. They played a significant role in my case. While this was going on, during the prosecution, we had BBC, Al-Jazeera, CNN treating it as breaking news while Greek media was being quiet about it. Ten days ago I was given another award in Spain, a Journalism Award and a Press Award – no one in Greece will ever hear anything about either those things.

This is really the place to fight that control, in this day and age the Greek people are not limited by the national boundaries and they just look on the internet and find other sources of information. And that kind of potential foreign media can have is very significant. The role of social media is very important, I tweeted something in a press conference earlier and that reached 300,000 people.

The risk of foreign media coverage is that you want to highlight the problems but you might end up making Greece look like a unique case. Is there anything journalists abroad should be wary of?

Obviously there are some very specific issues with journalism and freedom of expression in Greece, but it is potentially a problem in every country and it is something journalists have to deal with every day.

If there was a similar case like mine in the UK the rights of democracy would be raised by every media outlet instead of just one newspaper. In Greece that would never happen. We have to do something about it, demand answers. Every time someone tries to go against what has happened or try to write something about it they will be accused of all sort of horrible things, for example when I talked about the Greek banks there were all types of blogs that mentioned my name and claimed my involvement with the secret services.

When Reuters investigated the Greek banks, they were threatened with being sued, and so was the Guardian [when it reported on the police torture of protesters] . So it’s a multilevel issue where people need to know what is happening and what has happened. Journalists need to speak up and their voices have to be heard.

Kostas Vaxevanis (L) being escorted to the public prosecutor in Athens by plain-clothed police officers in October 2012. Photograph: Getty Images

Daniel Trilling is the Editor of New Humanist magazine. He was formerly an Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

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Arsène Wenger: how can an intelligent manager preside over such a hollowed-out team?

The Arsenal manager faces a frustrating legacy.

Sport is obviously not all about winning, but it is about justified hope. That ­distinction has provided, until recently, a serious defence of Arsène Wenger’s Act II – the losing part. Arsenal haven’t won anything big for 13 years. But they have been close enough (and this is a personal view) to sustain the experience of investing emotionally in the story. Hope turning to disappointment is fine. It’s when the hope goes, that’s the problem.

Defeat takes many forms. In both 2010 and 2011, Arsenal lost over two legs to Barcelona in the Champions League. Yet these were rich and rewarding sporting experiences. In the two London fixtures of those ties, Arsenal drew 2-2 and won 2-1 against the most dazzling team in the world. Those nights reinvigorated my pride in sport. The Emirates Stadium had the best show in town. Defeat, when it arrived in Barcelona, was softened by gratitude. We’d been entertained, more than entertained.

Arsenal’s 5-1 surrender to Bayern Munich on 15 February was very different. In this capitulation by instalments, the fascination was macabre rather than dramatic. Having long given up on discerning signs of life, we began the post-mortem mid-match. As we pored over the entrails, the curiosity lay in the extent of the malady that had brought down the body. The same question, over and over: how could such an intelligent, deep-thinking manager preside over a hollowed-out team? How could failings so obvious to outsiders, the absence of steel and resilience, evade the judgement of the boss?

There is a saying in rugby union that forwards (the hard men) determine who wins, and the backs (the glamour boys) decide by how much. Here is a footballing equivalent: midfielders define matches, attacking players adorn them and defenders get the blame. Yet Arsenal’s players as good as vacated the midfield. It is hard to judge how well Bayern’s playmakers performed because they were operating in a vacuum; it looked like a morale-boosting training-ground drill, free from the annoying presence of opponents.

I have always been suspicious of the ­default English critique which posits that mentally fragile teams can be turned around by licensed on-field violence – a good kicking, basically. Sporting “character” takes many forms; physical assertiveness is only one dimension.

Still, it remains baffling, Wenger’s blind spot. He indulges artistry, especially the mercurial Mesut Özil, beyond the point where it serves the player. Yet he won’t protect the magicians by surrounding them with effective but down-to-earth talents. It has become a diet of collapsing soufflés.

What held back Wenger from buying the linchpin midfielder he has lacked for many years? Money is only part of the explanation. All added up, Arsenal do spend: their collective wage bill is the fourth-highest in the League. But Wenger has always been reluctant to lavish cash on a single star player, let alone a steely one. Rather two nice players than one great one.

The power of habit has become debilitating. Like a wealthy but conservative shopper who keeps going back to the same clothes shop, Wenger habituates the same strata of the transfer market. When he can’t get what he needs, he’s happy to come back home with something he’s already got, ­usually an elegant midfielder, tidy passer, gets bounced in big games, prone to going missing. Another button-down blue shirt for a drawer that is well stuffed.

It is almost universally accepted that, as a business, Arsenal are England’s leading club. Where their rivals rely on bailouts from oligarchs or highly leveraged debt, Arsenal took tough choices early and now appear financially secure – helped by their manager’s ability to engineer qualification for the Champions League every season while avoiding excessive transfer costs. Does that count for anything?

After the financial crisis, I had a revealing conversation with the owner of a private bank that had sailed through the turmoil. Being cautious and Swiss, he explained, he had always kept more capital reserves than the norm. As a result, the bank had made less money in boom years. “If I’d been a normal chief executive, I’d have been fired by the board,” he said. Instead, when the economic winds turned, he was much better placed than more bullish rivals. As a competitive strategy, his winning hand was only laid bare by the arrival of harder times.

In football, however, the crash never came. We all wrote that football’s insane spending couldn’t go on but the pace has only quickened. Even the Premier League’s bosses confessed to being surprised by the last extravagant round of television deals – the cash that eventually flows into the hands of managers and then the pockets of players and their agents.

By refusing to splash out on the players he needed, whatever the cost, Wenger was hedged for a downturn that never arrived.

What an irony it would be if football’s bust comes after he has departed. Imagine the scenario. The oligarchs move on, finding fresh ways of achieving fame, respectability and the protection achieved by entering the English establishment. The clubs loaded with debt are forced to cut their spending. Arsenal, benefiting from their solid business model, sail into an outright lead, mopping up star talent and trophies all round.

It’s often said that Wenger – early to invest in data analytics and worldwide scouts; a pioneer of player fitness and lifestyle – was overtaken by imitators. There is a second dimension to the question of time and circumstance. He helped to create and build Arsenal’s off-field robustness, even though football’s crazy economics haven’t yet proved its underlying value.

If the wind turns, Arsène Wenger may face a frustrating legacy: yesterday’s man and yet twice ahead of his time. 

Ed Smith is a journalist and author, most recently of Luck. He is a former professional cricketer and played for both Middlesex and England.

This article first appeared in the 24 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The world after Brexit