Even in death, he had the emotional intelligence to leave early, before he could hurt his pride

We all called Tsalakos a teacher. And he was. What we didn’t say is that many of us behaved like spoiled students. Because we interpreted his insistence on bringing out the best in us as a challenge or even sarcasm.

It’s almost a rule. The teacher is often not the most beloved figure. He bears the responsibility of the mission, the strictness, the rules.

It takes years for each person to mature inwardly and realize that the very things that bothered them were ultimately what shaped them.

Tsalakos never compromised on his profession. Not because he was aloof, but because he respected those he was addressing: readers, television viewers, and listeners. In other words, he respected the society in which he lived and strove to make it better—to inform it accurately, to give it the tools to think and decide for itself. Not through coercion or covert manipulation, but through the facts themselves and their implications.

This is neither simple nor common. Few people identify their professional mission with a vision. And Tsalakos had a vision. In times like these, when people are misinformed, manipulated, and incited to fanaticism—often losing their reason and reducing everything to nothing in the whirlwind of social media— we will look back to the teacher and his vision.

I am not the right person to chronicle Tsalakos’s full life—the life of a man who was not merely a professional. A man of political activism, intellectual depth, and education. A man who lived through and helped shape the modern history of Greece and Cyprus.

 But I believe I am entitled to mention what he achieved in our own field.

– He came to Cyprus and put an end to news broadcasts that invariably began with “the President of the Republic”

– He changed their structure and philosophy by highlighting the news that interested the public—news related to both major issues and everyday problems

– He put an end to the practice of reading official announcements, which previous editors-in-chief had considered an obligation to broadcast

– He taught journalists not to merely collect statements but to be critical and seek the essence of the issue

– He opened Cyprus’s closed window to the world and made Cypriots part of the issues affecting our region and the entire world—first and foremost, Europe. This was clearly a positive influence from another great figure, Yiannos Kranidiotis.

All the things we take for granted today were not the case in the pre-Tsalakos era—at least not to the extent they should have been.

I met Giorgos Tsalakos in 1996. We had met two or three times before at the historic newspaper TA NEA. And here I should note his involvement in print media as well, as he played a leading role in transforming the major—nine-column—Cypriot newspapers into modern tabloids and revolutionized the periodical press.

At our first meeting, he still exuded the spirit of the Athenian streets during the uprising, of students’ visions for a different society, of great change, and of Andreas Papandreou. A person must redefine themselves based on the experience and knowledge they acquire along the way. Yet they never cast aside the things that inspired them and to which they devoted themselves in their youth.

From 1996 onward, we worked together at ANTENNA for seven years. Those were difficult, highly competitive times—the early days of private television. That revolution could not have happened without Tsalakos.  And in hindsight, I realized what a tightrope he walked every day, how many balances he had to maintain, and how many times he put himself on the line to protect journalism and journalists.

Soon our relationship went beyond the boundaries of our profession to embrace “all the rebetiko singers of the world”—the good company, the singing, the drinking. I’ll never forget the tenderness with which he spoke of his beloved Eliza, and how his face would light up whenever he mentioned Konstantinos. So what if he met many great people along the way? No one surpassed these two people—or the entire family that was his home—in stature and admiration.

Professionally, we met again in 2018 at ALPHA. A different Tsalakos. Stoic, serene, wise. By then, he was no longer just teaching journalism. Through his words and his demeanor, he taught us about life itself: respect, patience, and a positive attitude. He no longer needed to prove anything to anyone. Or, rather, he felt the need to teach us one more lesson: No matter how many successes one has, if one does not leave a mark on people’s souls, one has achieved nothing.

That is what Tsalakos achieved at the end of the day: to etch his name into the souls of dozens of young people who are here today—not to say goodbye to him, but to say a big “thank you.”

“Take care of my kids,” was the last instruction he gave me as he handed me the baton at the station.

The truth is that I was expecting to see the President of the Republic here today to tell him that Cyprus owes a great deal to Giorgos Tsalakos and that the government must find a way to acknowledge this. I believe my friend Victoras will convey the message.

I don’t know how comforting that will sound. Life isn’t measured by years or age. It’s measured by how much and how each of us fills it. And Tsalakos’s life wasn’t just full—it was overflowing. Even in death, he had the emotional intelligence to leave early, before death could manage to undermine his spirit.

Giorgos Tsalakos,

thank you for everything. For the lessons in journalism and in life, for your friendship, for the moments we shared, for the honorable passing of the torch.

I have only one complaint about you. On Thursday we were talking on the phone and making plans to go out, and before the week was over, you were gone.

And it’s as if I can hear you now, telling me—telling all of us—

“Hey, guys, don’t put anything off. Every moment that passes is precious—it never comes back.”

Have a safe journey