Caesarean Gesture

When Julius Caesar was the legally appointed Dictator of Rome and secure in his power, he puzzled his supporters by granting amnesty to conspirators and forbidding torture (except with his express permission) to prove how liberal a dictator he was. George Papadopoulos, sometime colonel of artillery and, since 1967, tyrant of Athens, is no latter-day Caesar. But last week, apparently feeling secure after obtaining a 78.4% majority in an unopposed "election" for an eight-year term as President of his recently proclaimed Greek republic, Papadopoulos, 54, surprised his critics with an uncharacteristic Caesarean gesture. He declared a sweeping amnesty and freed an estimated 330 political prisoners--all those known to be in custody, including the man who had narrowly missed assassinating Papadopoulos himself.

Within hours of taking the oath of office in the Cathedral of Athens, "Papa Dop" went before the television cameras and loosed a barrage of decrees and promises. He announced the lifting of martial law from the Athens-Piraeus area, long after most of the country had been freed from its iron grip. He laid out a fixed schedule for a return to what he called "full democracy," with a timetable beginning several months earlier than he had previously suggested. A constitutional court to pass on the legitimacy of political parties will be set up next month. He promised to create in October a "political government" with a Prime Minister and to hold parliamentary elections in 1974.

In the light of Papadopoulos' unconvincing record as a promoter of democracy, his promises drew skeptical responses from both diplomatic observers and old-line party politicians in Athens. Said one Western diplomat: "We are in a speculative stage. The amnesty and timetable are encouraging. But how much content will follow remains to be seen." Former Air Force Colonel Anastassios Minis, 54, who has chronicled the abominable tortures he suffered in prison, was cynical: "Later on they can cook up something and rearrest us."

But the release of the prisoners was real and highly visible. TIME Correspondent William Marmon was at the forbidding Boyati military prison, 20 miles north of Athens, when the gates opened for Alexandros Panagoulis, 34, who set off an explosion in 1968 that missed killing Papadopoulos by a split second. Marmon cabled: "Panagoulis emerged in a blue knit shirt and gray pants. After embracing his lawyer and receiving a kiss from his 62-year-old mother Athina, he was quick to announce: 'I do not repent. I am not ashamed of what I have done.' He pulled up his shirt and showed long scars running up his abdomen and chest that he said were the results of torture. He said that the interrogator had told him, 'I'm going to peel you,' as he cut into his flesh. To forestall lawsuits, Papadopoulos shrewdly proclaimed a blanket amnesty to all police and prison authorities for atrocities they may have committed.

"Panagoulis plans to write a book about his five years in jail, to be called either Filthy Dogs or The Silly Colonel. Even at his release, he continued to be explosive in his expressions of hatred for the present regime. Other prisoners were less outspoken but almost as intransigent."

The Papadopoulos regime, however, is unlikely to grant enough political freedom to give its opponents much opportunity to bother it. The new constitution gives Papadopoulos dictatorial powers, including the right to impose martial law for up to three months. Also still on the books are draconian penalties for what is vaguely called "sedition," and laws for press censorship and the drafting of activist students, 120 of whom have recently been called up. Said exiled Publisher Helen Vlachos in London: "They can amnesty me 100 times. I don't amnesty them. Vultures do not become vegetarians in 24 hours."

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