ELAM doesn't build its narrative on a positive proposal for social organisation or a coherent governing programme, but on drawing lines around who belongs and who doesn't—who is considered a "genuine" member of the community and who is treated as a threat.
In the run-up to the parliamentary elections of May 24 ELAM chose to focus its political investment on three main thematic pillars which, far from being unconnected, form a single ideological narrative: immigration, the Cyprus problem, and LGBTQI rights, particularly same-sex marriage and adoption. Although each area is framed with different arguments, the common denominator is a political outlook built around the notion of "threat" towards anything presented as different—the foreigner, the political "other", the alternative social identity.
Erich Fromm captured this very well in his book The Fear of Freedom. As he put it, when people are afraid of "the other", they become more willing to surrender freedoms in exchange for a sense of security. This formed part of his analysis of the rise of fascism in the interwar period.
Migrants
On immigration, ELAM seeks to capitalise on the insecurity felt by a section of society, promoting a narrative whereby the increased presence of migrants constitutes a threat to social cohesion, security and national identity. This political approach isn't confined to criticism of how the state manages migration flows—which is a legitimate political debate—but extends to a generalised treatment of the migrant as a problem in and of itself. This shift matters, because it moves the focus away from asylum policy, integration possibilities or European responsibilities, and towards a logic of cultural threat.
The Cyprus problem
On the Cyprus problem, the party presents its rejection of a federal solution as a patriotic stance. Politically, however, this position is often accompanied by rhetoric that goes beyond criticism of Turkey or disagreement with specific solution models, and instead reinforces a broader demonisation of coexistence with the Turkish Cypriot community. The distinction matters here: there's a world of difference between political disagreement with a particular solution model and the cultivation of stereotypes that collectively portray the other community as incompatible or inherently hostile. When the political narrative rests on the outright rejection of the "other" as an interlocutor, the Cyprus problem stops being a matter of political strategy and becomes a battleground of identity confrontation.
LGBTQI
When it comes to LGBTQI rights, particularly adoption by same-sex couples, ELAM attempts to present its position as a defence of the "traditional family", which it claims is under threat of collapse. This is familiar rhetoric from the European far right. The issue isn't the existence of political or moral disagreement on a social matter—democracies can withstand disagreement.
Τhe problem arises when disagreement turns into the collective devaluation of a group of people, or into a challenge to their equal rights based solely on identity or sexual orientation. At that point, the political position ceases to be merely conservative and enters the territory of discriminatory, if not racist, treatment.
What unites them
What unites all three of these pillars is a political logic of exclusion. ΕΛάΜ doesn't build its narrative on a positive proposal for social organisation or a coherent governing programme, but on drawing lines around who belongs and who doesn't—who is considered a "genuine" member of the community and who is treated as a threat. This is the political template of the contemporary far right across Europe: turning social anxieties into identity politics through exclusion.
The electoral appeal of such narratives isn't a Cypriot peculiarity. It's fuelled by real social insecurities, by a crisis of trust in institutions, by disillusionment with traditional parties. But the crucial political question is whether the answers on offer seek to resolve problems or simply manufacture internal and external enemies. In ELAM'scase, its pre-election strategy appears to invest more in the latter—cultivating and capitalising on ordinary people's fears.
