The Seeds of Division
Whether we like it or not, Nicosia’s most striking feature is its de facto division, with the roadblocks being its most tangible manifestation. The dead-end streets have become such an integral part of the city’s character that they now go—almost—unnoticed. This is particularly noticeable in the dense urban fabric of the old city. The roadblocks carry powerful symbolism; they are the physical remnants of the violent division of the capital, but also spaces where memories, silences, and claims are concentrated.
The history of the roadblocks began on May 30, 1956, when the British Commander of Nicosia, Clemens, erected mobile roadblocks from Paphos Gate to Ato prevent clashes between Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots. This followed attacks by Turkish Cypriots on Greek Cypriot properties, in retaliation for the murder of a Turkish Cypriot auxiliary police officer by members of EOKA. Roadblocks were erected again during the bloody summer of 1958, when the clashes were more widespread, separating the Greek from the Turkish sectors of Nicosia. It was then, in the 1950s, that the first violent displacements took place, affecting people living in the sector where their community was in the minority.
ΣΧΕΤΙΚΑ ΑΡΘΡΑ
Nicosia Becomes a Divided City
In the early years of the Republic of Cyprus, intercommunal clashes subsided, but political life was deeply shaken by the issue of the geographical separation between the Greek and Turkish municipalities of Nicosia, as provided for in the Constitution. Discussions remained fruitless until December 1963, when intercommunal clashes broke out. The Green Line was drawn on the map on December 30, 1963, and implemented on the ground, this time isolating the Turkish enclave of Nicosia from the areas controlled by the Republic of Cyprus, which, following the withdrawal of Turkish Cypriots from government offices, was fully controlled by the Greek Cypriots.
A period during which restrictions on movement between the sectors of Nicosia were lifted began in 1968 with the start of inter-Cypriot talks. This was violently interrupted in the summer of 1974 by the invasion of the Turkish army following the coup d’état by the Greek junta. This time, the roadblocks became more numerous, more robust, and more impenetrable, marking the ceasefire line that stretched across the entire island—and divided Nicosia. At the same time, the United Nations-controlled buffer zone—often referred to in Greek as the “dead zone”—was established. Within Nicosia’s urban fabric, this arrangement is particularly striking, as the buildings in the “dead zone” have been left to crumble from the ravages of time, presenting a sad sight to those who observe them from behind the roadblocks.
The barriers’ deterrent function remained unchanged for several decades, until restrictions on civilian passage were partially lifted in 2003. The first checkpoint to “open” was the Ledra Palace checkpoint, outside the city walls, in April 2003. The opening of the Ledra Street checkpoint in the city center in 2008 was also of crucial importance. The gradual reduction of the military presence and the partial normalization of the urban space did not necessarily lead to the healing of historical wounds, but they did bring about major changes in the function and perception of the roadblocks. At the same time, a new chapter of political debate began regarding whether crossing “to the other side” is morally acceptable and whether the opening—of other roadblocks as well—is a step in the right direction. In any case, given that community leaders are negotiating and agreeing to their opening, they are clearly implying that they approve of it. Nevertheless, within the communities there are groups that, for various reasons, are opposed to this.
Roadblocks as Vessels of Memory
The division of Nicosia concerns not only the restriction of physical movement but also the functioning of memory and forgetting in the two communities. Greek Cypriots focus primarily on the events of 1974, while the period of intercommunal conflicts from 1963 to 1967 recedes into their collective memory. In contrast, for Turkish Cypriots, this period occupies a central place, as it is associated with conflicts and displacements that affected them to a greater extent, while 1974 marks the beginning of a period of stability. Furthermore, the dynamics of memory and forgetting vary even within the communities. Some groups highlight evidence suggesting that coexistence between the communities is impossible and undesirable, while others emphasize that closer ties are both feasible and desirable. This also influences how roadblocks are perceived.
Over the years, roadblocks have taken on multiple functions. Beyond serving as physical barriers, they have become sites of symbolic confrontation, political mobilization, and the shaping of collective memory. Flags, slogans, warning signs, and graffiti have given each of them distinctive characteristics. At the same time, the events held in front of them help shape and convey specific messages to audiences both at home and abroad. A common political message is the Greek Cypriots’ protest against the “facts on the ground resulting from the invasion.” At the same time, there are also demonstrations on both sides of the dividing line that emphasize the need for dialogue and reconciliation.
A Strange City
A large number of roadblocks still exist in the city. They are not all the same. Some have manned guard posts, while others are abandoned. Some are made of solid materials, while others are movable metal structures. They often block the view of the opposite side, though there are also cases where they allow it. Among them, one particular category stands out: roadblocks without a military presence, which serve as backdrops for dining areas. While the traces of division do not disappear, their historical significance recedes and is replaced by a picturesque quality that makes them attractive. Areas once associated with fear, conflict, and exclusion are thus integrated into everyday life, taking on a new social function.
There are three particularly distinctive roadblocks in old Nicosia. On the eastern side, the Agios Kassianos roadblock is essentially a low, rusty metal railing that blocks passage while still allowing a view of the buffer zone. The area has been a focal point for anti-occupation protests, most notably the women’s march of July 1989. In the city center, the old shopping street of Ledra Street is interrupted by a roadblock, which has been passable since 2008. It is one of the most visible symbols of the division, while at the same time serving as a bustling thoroughfare, particularly for visitors and tourists. On the western side of the city, the iconic Ledra Palace checkpoint has a unique character, as it functions simultaneously as a boundary and as a place. For those who remain on one side or the other, it marks the boundary of the division and serves as an ideal destination for protest marches. For those who cross it, however, the intermediate space of the buffer zone is transformed from a dividing line into a place of encounter and communication, with the decommissioned “Lidra Palace,” which serves as a base for peacekeepers, and the “House of Cooperation,” a civil society initiative. It is a place where cooperation among members of the Cypriot communities thrives, creating a unique and remarkable microcosm that operates on its own terms
