Georgios I. Matsos, a Greek lawyer holding a doctorate in law and a columnist for Capital.gr, argued in an opinion piece published on Tuesday that Britain's historically mixed attitude toward Greece is not simply a matter of short-term interest but stems from a centuries-old geopolitical contest over who inherits the legacy of ancient Rome, a legacy symbolized above all by the city of Constantinople.
Matsos wrote that the deeper psychology of nations is rarely taught in schools or set down in books. Instead, he said, it reveals itself in everyday episodes or in the broader pattern of a country's conduct over time, citing Russia's long-standing rivalry with Greece as an example of the latter.
A Wartime Song's Message
To illustrate England's underlying attitude toward Greece, and more broadly that of the English-speaking world, Matsos pointed to "MacDermott's War Song," written during the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-78. He said war songs, unlike songs of peacetime, capture a nation's popular mood during war and geopolitical upheaval, and that this song's lyrics still reflect Anglo-Saxon geopolitical choices relevant today.
He recalled that Britain, having defeated Russia in the Crimean War of 1853-56, did not join the following Russo-Turkish war of 1877-78, instead watching from a distance and ready to back Turkey. Britain eventually deployed a fleet to the Straits and, at the Congress of Berlin, blocked Russian and Bulgarian claims through a simple show of force. Greece subsequently gained Thessaly, Matsos noted.
He quoted the song's refrain as evidence of that distant, watchful stance: "We don't want to fight, but by Jingo if we do, We've got the ships, we've got the men, we've got the money too! We've fought the Bear before, and while we're Britons true, The Russians shall not have Constantinople." Matsos pointed to a 1991 performance of the song showing that the line about the Russians not taking Constantinople still draws the strongest enthusiasm, and cited a 2022 comment on that recording noting that watching the news from Ukraine brought the song to mind, even though Constantinople itself is not at stake there.
Constantinople as a Symbol
Matsos argued that Constantinople functions as a symbol, and that symbols often carry more weight than substance. In his account, England was the only major European power whose state ideology never tried to claim Rome's mantle from what he called its rightful heir, the Greeks.
He contrasted this with what he described as a German effort to strip the word "Roman" from the identity of the Greek-speaking empire by substituting the politically neutral but, in his view, unflattering term "Byzantine," noting that Germany's emperors nonetheless styled themselves "Kaiser," a rendering of "Caesar." He also cited the papacy's long global political dominance, which he said rested on the church's seat in Rome, and, following the Ottoman victory at the Battle of Manzikert in 1071, the Seljuk Sultanate of Rum in Asia Minor. After the fall of Constantinople, Matsos wrote, Ottoman sultans also adopted the title "Caesar of the Romans," or "Kayser-i-Rum," a title used regularly into the 18th century. He added that Serbia's 14th-century state, the early Carolingian-era French state and Spain each made their own attempts to claim the Roman inheritance.
Russia's Claim and Britain's Response
The most geopolitically consequential of these attempts, according to Matsos, was Russia's. He recounted that in 1472 Grand Prince Ivan III, the first Russian ruler to use the title "tsar," a corruption of "Caesar," married Zoe-Sophia Palaiologina, a niece of the last Byzantine emperor, Constantine Palaiologos, in what he read as a clear bid to claim succession to Roman imperial authority. In 1510, he wrote, the "Third Rome" ideology was formulated, thereafter giving the tsars grounds to lay claim to Constantinople despite lacking any historical or demographic tie to the city.
Matsos argued that Constantinople thus became the core symbol of Russian claims on Ottoman territory, and conversely the reason the English were driven to block Russian expansion. He said Britain's deeper motive was its colonial interests in the East, but that raw self-interest alone does not mobilize a nation's public.
Shifting Alliances Through Two World Wars
The English were not always opposed to Russia, Matsos wrote, but their shifting stance toward Russia explains their stance toward Greece, including why they eventually accepted the Greek state. He said Russia became strong enough to rival Britain in 1812, when it crushed Napoleon; before that, the English had viewed Russia as an ally because Napoleon, at the height of his power, posed the greater threat to them.
From that point, he wrote, Russia became Britain's principal rival, and the creation of a deliberately weak Greek state was intended as a buffer against Russian, nominally "Orthodox," imperial ambition. After the Anglo-French-Ottoman victory in the Crimean War, Britain had decisively gained the upper hand, Matsos said, and Russia again became useful to Britain once a newer rival emerged: a Germany unified in 1871. Russia, and later the Soviet Union, became Britain's ally in both World Wars to defeat Germany, he wrote, but once German military power was crushed in the Second World War, Russia and the USSR again became the Anglo-Saxon world's principal geopolitical rival.
Matsos argued this is why NATO was not dissolved after the end of communism: nuclear-armed Russia, he wrote, remains the strongest European military rival to the Anglo-Saxon world despite the weaknesses its forces have shown in Ukraine.
Legacy in Greek Foreign Policy
This history, Matsos wrote, is why the English never wanted a strong Greek state and why they took an ambivalent position during Greece's Asia Minor Campaign. He said sympathy and shared short- to medium-term interests were not enough, since if the British did not want Constantinople in the hands of Russia, a usurper of Rome's legacy, they wanted it even less in the hands of Greece, which he described as Rome's natural heir.
He said this also helps explain British support for Kemalism, arguing that the international renaming of Constantinople to "Istanbul" stripped the city of its political and symbolic power, since Constantinople is a symbol-city while "Istanbul" is simply a large Turkish city. He noted that the 1953 American song "Istanbul (not Constantinople)" likely carried no political intent of its own, but in his view revealed an Anglo-Saxon indifference, even satisfaction, at the symbol's erasure. He pointed to the Ecumenical Patriarchate as an exception, saying its continued international use of the name "Constantinople" retains anti-Russian usefulness.
Matsos acknowledged that many Greeks feel "all foreigners are against us," while others dismiss such views as conspiracy theories. He concluded that the reality lies instead in the geopolitical handling of Rome's legacy and its symbol, arguing that Greece's relationship with the Anglo-Saxon world, for better and worse, has been shaped by other powers' claims on what he called Greece's inherited right to that legacy, and that understanding this would clarify both the constraints and the genuine openings available to Greek foreign policy.
