There is an image that perhaps describes better than many political analyses the current state of a section of New Democracy . MPs and executives moving around the prime minister, seeking a handshake, a brief conversation, a smile and — above all — a good position in the frame .
Take the photo. Record the video. Upload it later on TikTok , Instagram , Facebook. Accompanied by the necessary buzzwords about “project”, “efficiency”, “modern Greece” and “change that is being implemented”.
Politics as a story. Presence as a reel. Ideology as a communication accessory.
And of course, as much as possible, everything should resemble the communication style of Kyriakos Mitsotakis . The crossed arms. The relaxed pose. The joke on camera. The attempt to make the politician appear “comfortable”, “modern”, “digital”, close to the new generation, even when the aesthetics sometimes end up reminding us of that uncle who suddenly discovered TikTok and is desperately trying to prove that he “has it”.
Except that politics is not casting .
And the MP is not elected to become a photocopy of his leader.
He is elected to have a voice, an opinion, judgment and—when necessary—the courage to disagree .
With the Prime Minister’s presence in Thessaloniki and the events for the Kalamaria Metro, it’s probably safe to expect a new deluge of posts. Photos from stations, videos inside the trains, smiles, handshakes, “spontaneous” moments and the familiar bubbles that will appear on the screen to make politics a little lighter, a little more digestible, a little more… viral.
And all of this could be just graphic, if there wasn’t a much more serious political issue behind the image.
Where is the same willingness to be present when there is no camera?
Where is this enthusiasm when the issue is not to stand next to the prime minister, but to stand up to him and tell him that you disagree ?
Because that’s where the politician is ultimately measured.
Not when he agrees.
When his conscience forces him to disagree.
A year ago, we saw MPs from the government faction walk through the doors of the New Democracy headquarters in Piraeus for informational meetings regarding the bill on same-sex marriage . It was an issue that created serious reactions within the traditional center-right base and brought several MPs face to face with real political and value dilemmas. It stirred up the majority of Christians, family heads, and homemakers.
I don’t remember there being an abundance of happy TikToks there.
I don’t remember any joke reels.
I don’t remember celebratory selfies.
Because at that time the issue was not easy to communicate. It touched on beliefs, consciences, and the political identity of an entire faction.
And several of those who ultimately voted in favor of the bill faced criticism for abandoning positions that for decades were considered part of ND’s conservative identity.
Someone may agree with that choice. Someone may disagree. That is perfectly legitimate in a democracy.
The political interest lies elsewhere:
How many truly formed their own position and how many simply toed the line?
And most importantly: how easily can a member of parliament today say to the leader of his party “no, I disagree here” , knowing that this word could cost him a ministerial chair, a position of responsibility or even the political favor of the party apparatus?
Because the chair is sweet .
And it becomes even sweeter when accompanied by the anticipation of the next upgrade.
Deputy Minister. Minister. Parliamentary representative. Committee chairman. A better position on the ballot. A little more visibility.
And somewhere in this chain of expectations, something very important can easily be lost:
political autonomy .
But there is an even greater contradiction.
We saw briefings and discussions organized on social bills that were considered critical to the government agenda.
When did we see such mobilization on national issues ?
When did MPs gather to demand exhaustive information on the country’s strategy towards Turkey?
When did they ask to know exactly where the policy of “calm waters” is leading?
What are its limits?
What are Greece’s red lines ?
What happens when Ankara brings up sovereignty issues, talks about “gray zones”, questions Greek responsibilities in the Aegean, or returns to violations?
When did the MPs themselves demand a serious, long-lasting briefing on the Cyprus problem, the Aegean, the Eastern Mediterranean, the defense strategy and Greek-Turkish relations ?
And most importantly:
When did we hear many of them speak out publicly when they believed that a government choice on national issues was wrong?
There are no easy reels there.
There are no cute bubbles.
There aren’t many smiles.
There are difficult questions. There is responsibility. There is political cost.
And these are much less attractive than a photo next to the prime minister.
The problem, therefore, is not TikTok. Nor Instagram. And of course a modern politician must use the new means of communication. It would be absurd to ask politics to remain communicatively in the 80s.
The problem begins when communication replaces politics .
When the photo becomes more important than the location.
When access to the leader becomes more important than access to society.
When “letting the president see me” becomes more valuable than “listening to what my voter tells me.”
And especially when a member of parliament turns from a representative of the citizens into an applauder of the executive branch .
Because the Constitution does not provide for extra-member deputies.
Nor do we elect people to run after a prime minister trying to fit into the picture.
We elect members of parliament to represent. To control. To propose. To resist when necessary. And, yes, to even disagree with their leader.
This was once taken for granted within the major parties.
New Democracy has always had strong personalities, different currents, internal conflicts and people who did not hesitate to publicly defend their views. Karamanlists, liberals, the popular Right, social conservatives coexisted — not always harmoniously — within the same political family.
But that was also her strength.
It was a faction, not a personal court.
This is why treating dissent as something like an act of disloyalty is dangerous for any major party.
The case of Antonis Samaras is characteristic precisely because he is a former prime minister and former president of New Democracy who chose to publicly express serious disagreements with government choices, particularly on foreign policy issues.
Someone might agree with him.
Someone may think they are wrong.
But there is something much bigger than Samaras’ face:
Does today’s New Democracy still have room for substantial internal disagreement?
Or does political survival now require smiling, clapping, voting, and—preferably—being next to the prime minister in time for the cameras to roll?
Because if the latter is true, then the problem does not only concern New Democracy.
It concerns the quality of parliamentarism itself.
Democracy doesn’t need members of parliament who always agree with their leadership. It needs people with political personality .
It needs people who can say “yes” when they agree and “no” when they disagree .
It needs people who know that the ministerial chair is temporary, while political dignity and personal signature on decisions remain .
And above all, it needs politicians who, when it comes to the homeland, do not first ask themselves “what does the line say?” , but “what do I believe is right for the country?” .
So let them upload as many photos as they want.
Let them make reels.
Let’s fill the stories with smiles, handshakes and snapshots from the Metro.
That’s not the problem.
The question is what they will do when the cameras go off .
When there is no prime minister next to them for the photo.
When there is no ministerial position on the horizon.
When the party line clashes with what they themselves consider right.
Then it becomes clear who is a politician and who is simply in the picture.
Because after all, it’s very easy to run for a selfie with the authorities.
The hard thing is to stand up to her when you think she’s wrong.
But the time of reckoning is coming for all the protagonists and the sad bystanders. And as the popular proverb says: “In the end they shave the…groom”
G. ANTON.
