Κυριακή 17 Μαΐου 2026

Who killed Homer (again)?

 

 

Democratic Patriotic Popular Movement NIKI   

Over the past few days, a major debate has erupted across social media, following rumors that Christopher Nolan’s highly anticipated Odyssey closely follows the queer reinterpretation of classical antiquity. It has leaked, though without any official confirmation yet, that Achilles may be portrayed by Ellen Page (the actor who transitioned and is now known as Elliot Page), while Helen of Troy may be played by Lupita Nyong’o, a Black actress.

These choices, if they are indeed true, are the product of an ideological fixation that wages war against anything connected to tradition, inherited truth, and the fundamental anthropological patterns of Greek (and consequently Western) civilization. The West is essentially choosing to renegotiate its relationship with the past on entirely new terms. Who could forget the uproar caused by the BBC’s Troy series, which cast the Black actor David Gyasi as Achilles? Moving in the same direction is the translation of Emily Wilson on which Nolan reportedly based his adaptation. A translation that aspired to become an ideological “correction” of Homer, “cleansing” him of words and meanings associated with patriarchal and androcentric readings. Humanity, it seems, found in Wilson the moral courage willing to confront the “corruption” of a work that, for 2,700 years, had supposedly corrupted the souls of the young including Alexander the Great himself, who famously kept the Iliad at his bedside.

The frenzy of identity politics has flooded public discourse, public space, art, and universities alike, with insatiable expansionist tendencies. But why does it insist on staking its claim on ancient Greek civilization as well? Why does it desire an Achilles stripped of his epic heroism and of the form that once inspired terror in the Trojans? To answer this question, we must understand that Homer belongs to the foundational myths of Western civilization. Through his work, the West reflected upon heroism, glory, honour, death, fate, courage, the historicity of virtue, and the tragic nature of human existence. But once you shift the center of gravity toward sexuality, you deconstruct the founding myth in order to renegotiate your identity, to gain control over the cultural imagination of both the present and the future.

The argument usually made in favor of such interventions is the “freedom of art.” But how free can art truly be when it moves almost exclusively in one direction? When Hollywood, universities, cultural institutions, platforms, and state funding all converge around the same ideological pattern? Could it be that this supposed “nonconformity” has itself become a new form of cultural imperialism? An imperialism in which anything traditional must be branded outdated, morally inferior, and stripped of legitimacy.
We have reached the point where the freedom of Art means freedom only for those who call themselves progressive, whose mission is to “moralize” tradition by reconstructing it according to their own ideological obsessions. And so texts are censored, comedies are silenced, reactions are suppressed, historical truth is forgotten, and a new past is manufactured without the consent of the societies that inherited it.

In the end, the answer to the question posed by the book Who Killed Homer? is simple: those who insist, instead of reading Homer, on reading themselves into him. Those who, rather than engaging through Art with other worlds, transform it into a tool of perpetual self-affirmation.

And Homer is just one more victim. The greatest victim is the new generation, in whose consciousness will be inscribed a genderless, neutered Achilles, severed from the heroic ideal, from the era that he belongs to, from the anthropology he embodies. And he too will be added to the long line of “heroes” desecrated upon the masterpieces of humanity, solely in order to normalize the new kind of human being they are determined, at any cost, to impose upon us

Dr. Ioanna Stergiou
Head of Culture & Sports Thematic Group

The Song “Ferto” and the Voice of a Generation that Grew Up in Crisis


Democratic Patriotic Popular Movement NIKI  

The song “Ferto,” which will represent Greece this year at the Eurovision contest, has sparked a variety of reactions. Yet, beyond a superficial reading of its lyrics and of the overall concept of the work, we ought to approach more deeply the social and existential context within which it was born.

We shall not dwell on the simplicity of its language and music, on the lack of depth and of profound meaning, on the pervasive irony and the constant “trolling,” which essentially amounts to the use of humor as a defense mechanism and as a search for immediate gratification.

In our view, this song is not a hymn to gambling, consumerism, or greed, as it may initially appear. Rather, it is primarily the anguished cry of a generation (to which its creator, Akylas, also belongs) that grew up during the prolonged economic crisis, was deprived of fundamental opportunities, saw its expectations collapse, and today struggles daily for survival, without a clear prospect for the future.

Behind the desire for money, success, and material security lies a deep wound: insecurity, uncertainty, and the fear that life may stagnate or regress. Phrases such as “what we were deprived of in the past,” “so that nothing will be lacking again,” and “I buy to fill the gaps” reveal precisely this lived experience of a generation that grew up watching its parents being tested while its own future was shrinking.

At the same time, the song also reflects a deeper cultural void: the loss of meaning and orientation within our society. When society offers no vision, when education fails to inspire, when the state does not create real prospects, then the youth seek outlets wherever they can find them.

Today, moreover, the anxiety becomes even greater as the world enters a new technological era. Artificial intelligence, automation, and robotics are shaping a future in which many young people fear they may become unnecessary to the system. This uncertainty generates stress, pressure, and at times extreme expressions of desire for success and security.

For this reason, instead of confronting such artistic phenomena with rejection, we ought to read them as social symptoms. The artist expresses—perhaps unconsciously—the anxiety of an entire generation.

The real question, therefore, is not whether we like a song, but what kind of society we are creating for our young people.

Greece needs a new vision of life, hope, and perspective. It needs an education that cultivates persons rather than merely skills, a society that offers meaning, and a state that creates opportunities.

Our youth do not deserve criticism; they deserve a future.

And this future can be born only when we rediscover our roots, our identity, and the civilization of Romeosyne, which sees the human being not as an isolated individual or unit, but as a person endowed with value and destiny.

Ioannis Kon. Neonakis
Member of the Cultural Policy Committee of NIKI
Head of the Romeosyne Policy Committee of NIKI