Under the eagle eye of writer-producer-director, Greg Mclean, the latest iteration of Australia’s most iconic horror movie franchise has taken shape in South Australia.
With fresh director, Sean Lahiff, at the helm of Greg’s work, I was fortunate enough to visit the set of this flick and stand near-paralysed as lead actor, John Jarratt (aka ‘Mick Taylor’), reprised his role as our country’s most malevolent serial killer.
As I was lucky enough to be a house guest of the Greek Consul General to SA, Dr Alexandra Theodoropoulou that week, we all decided to take a little road trip onto the set of Wolf Creek: Legacy. Another friend from Melbourne, Denise Zapantis, was staying with us – helping to translate some of Alexandra’s poetry – and she also took the fateful journey alongside us.
Now it just so happens that Greg is my brother-in-law and my sister, Bianca Martino, is not just also of Greco-Italian heritage, but is an accomplished film producer who works alongside her equally talented husband and runs their production company – ‘Emu Creek Pictures’, the force behind the franchise. And what a set visit that turned out to be!
Alexandra and Andreas immediately dubbed the movie ‘Wolf Greek’ and, as patrons of the Arts, were intrigued at the complexities of film-shooting. They were especially struck at how charismatic and chillingly ‘psychopathic’ Mick Taylor was on set, as a team of highly professional filmmakers buzzed around him.
So, in the radiant South Australian heat of that day, the set of ‘Wolf Greek’ was peppered with Hellenes, slick film auteurs and an evil star who sported his emblematic outback attire and weaponry, while stomping on the odd bull ant and sharpening his very, very long knife.
As Bianca informed us set visitors, the film would take not just five weeks to shoot, “…but was the culmination of five years of planning, writing, funding negotiations, casting, location scouting and a dozen other factors before the first camera was even pointed at Mick Taylor.”
With actual film production having just wrapped up, there is still the post-production phase to go and the often nail-biting phase of editing. In fact, director Sean Lahiff, a native South Australian, edited a Wolf Creek movie and the series, and Greg found him so gifted that it wasn’t at all a hard stretch to have Sean replace him in the director’s chair.
Always keen to uncover, assist and promote new talent, Greg quipped to me that, “My brief to Sean was to make the scariest WolfCreek flick yet – and from what I’ve seen, it’s definitely mission accomplished.”
The scriptwriting by Duncan Samarasinghe – an art form that I, too, try to practice – is not just first rate, but world class (not that I can give anything away here).
Another thing that really caught our eye during this unique experience was the remarkable attention to detail. Mick Taylor now looms so large over the global horror film market, that every aspect of his screen persona commands close scrutiny.
Bianca informed us that there are at least three replica versions of his battered Ford 100 pick-up in existence, with the version selected for Wolf Creek: Legacy being carefully monitored on set by one of its creators. Even Mick’s infamous flannelette shirt had to be reproduced from specially designed fabric, so it carried all the associations (and aromas?) of the original.
As a glowering John Jarratt (aka ‘Mick Taylor’) told Alexandra, Andreas, Denise and I before he stalked off into the bush to terrify his latest prey, “You Greeks have got a bit of style. So have I!” None of us sought to question that assertion.
*Dr John A. Martino is a retired (disabled) ADF veteran, a novelist and aspiring filmmaker. His ‘Olympia: The Birth of the Games’ is soon to hit the film markets of Europe.
For many in Athens, a summer evening at the Odeon of Herodes Atticus is more than a concert—it’s a cultural tradition. On June 30, John Legend will deliver the venue’s final performance before it shuts down for a three-year restoration, according to tovima.com
The concert is part of his An Evening of Songs & Stories tour and marks his first appearance in Greece. Built in 161 AD on the slopes of the Acropolis, the Herodeon has long been a defining stage of the city’s summer cultural life.
A historic farewell
For decades, the Athens & Epidaurus Festival has hosted world-renowned performers at the Herodeon, making it Greece’s premier cultural event. This year’s program will conclude with Legend’s show—the 15th and final performance before restoration begins in July. Organisers describe the moment as a fitting convergence of artist and venue.
A career of milestones
Legend brings with him an extraordinary career: 13 Grammy Awards, an Oscar for “Glory” (from Selma), plus a Tony and an Emmy—making him the first Black artist to achieve EGOT status. His catalogue includes global hits like “All of Me” and “Ordinary People,” alongside collaborations with major names across the industry.
An intimate performance
This tour offers a stripped-back format: just Legend and a piano. Without elaborate production, the focus shifts to storytelling, with each song tied to personal moments and influences.
As the Herodeon prepares to fall silent, this performance promises a memorable and symbolic closing chapter.
Earlier this year, Greek yogurt vanished from shelves at Woolworths, Coles, and Aldi-not due to supply issues, but because of a viral TikTok recipe combining it with ingredients like Biscoff biscuits. The trend, tied to both a “Japanese cheesecake” craze and a growing “protein-maxxing” movement, sent shoppers rushing to buy it, according to phys.org
According to UNSW Business School consumer psychologist Nitika Garg, the shortage revealed deeper behavioral patterns. She points to three drivers behind viral food trends: aspiration, novelty, and fear of missing out (FOMO). Influencers blur the line between relatable and aspirational, making their recommendations feel both achievable and desirable.
“The social influencer, when they do something like that, it makes people want to try them as well,” said Prof. Garg. “There is an aspirational image to these cues and these trends at times, which people pick up on. Sometimes there’s novelty going on as well…”
FOMO amplifies this effect, pushing consumers to act quickly. “If you’re following this person… you don’t want to miss out on it. There are multiple emotional drivers, positive and negative, of these behaviors.”
However, Prof. Garg warns that many consumers rarely verify what they see online. “People don’t always do the research… The problem is when people blindly rely on this information from non-experts.”
While brands tend to vet influencer partnerships, viral content often escapes oversight. As social media-and increasingly AI-generated content—evolves, regulation struggles to keep pace, leaving consumers to navigate a fast-moving and often misleading digital food landscape.
Organisers of the Beyond Borders International Documentary Festival on Kastellorizo have raised concerns that this year’s event may be cancelled after a major sponsor pulled its support, according to ekathimerini.com
For diaspora communities-particularly in Australia, where Kastellorizo has a long migration history, the festival represents more than a local event. It is a cultural bridge that preserves shared heritage, storytelling, and historical memory across continents.
In an official statement, the festival team explained that the departure of a key backer set off a chain reaction, leading other institutional and private supporters to withdraw as well. This has resulted in what they described as a situation of “complete financial instability.”
They also noted a lack of meaningful assistance from government bodies and authorities responsible for promoting cultural initiatives in remote and island regions, saying there has been “no substantial response” to their situation.
“As a result, an internationally recognized cultural event lacks the minimum level of support required to continue its operations,” the statement said.
Greece has formally enacted legislation designating Gyaros as a marine protected area, securing long-term safeguards for one of the Aegean’s most important wildlife habitats, according to ekathimerini.com. The move was confirmed by WWF Greece, which described the signing of the presidential decree as a “decisive milestone.”
The decree establishes clearly defined protection zones and introduces concrete management measures, replacing earlier provisional arrangements. Located northwest of Syros, Gyaros is a crucial refuge for the endangered Mediterranean monk seal and supports one of its largest populations.
“This permanent framework can ensure that the island’s natural wealth is preserved over the long term, while also supporting, through this protection, the local communities of the Northern Cyclades,” WWF said in a statement.
Although the designation had been pending since 2018, conservation efforts have been underway for over a decade. WWF and more than 50 organisations have studied the island’s ecosystems, implemented conservation strategies, and introduced tools such as a remote surveillance system, active between 2015 and 2023.
These initiatives have contributed to noticeable environmental recovery, including improved marine and land habitats, rising fish populations, and the protection of rare species like the monk seal and the Yelkouan shearwater.
“Gyaros proves that when we join forces around a common vision, nature protection and sustainable development become reality,” said Dimitris Karavellas, general director of WWF Greece.
Today, the area is managed by Greece’s Natural Environment and Climate Change Agency in cooperation with the Coast Guard, offering a model for future marine conservation projects.
Melbourne-raised, forged in the Greek-Melburnian football heartlands of Northcote and Heidelberg, and sharpened at Yale where he studied economics while playing at an elite level, his trajectory was clear. The path was moving upward, but then he pressed pause.
“I had to decide: do I leave Greece, or stay and do my military service?” he says, regarding his professional career in the country. “But then I thought, ‘when else am I going to get this chance?’”
The decision to serve as a conscript came at a cost. He had just signed his first professional contract and was pushing toward his debut in Greece’s second division.
Momentum like that doesn’t wait. “As a footballer, the timing was terrible,” he says plainly. “For my football, it didn’t make sense on paper, but I did it anyway.”
As a diaspora Greek, his service lasted just three months, far shorter than the standard nine to 12 months most Greek conscripts complete. Even so, it was enough to significantly disrupt his first professional season of football in Greece.
Sent to Grevena
He was sent north, to Grevena. Mountains, cold mornings, and a base that runs on routine.
“Sixteen beds in a room. Old, squeaky bunks,” he says. “But that’s the point. You’re nobody special.”
Days started at 5:30am. Shaving was mandatory. Duties rotated: guard posts, patrols, skopia (guard duty)at the central gate, checking who came in, who left, and when.
“That camaraderie, that was the highlight,” he says. “You realise quickly, everyone’s in it together.”
It showed up in small, unplanned ways: coffees on rare breaks with guys from Thessaloniki, late conversations in the bunk with an architect, a finance grad, a football fanatic, people he says he’d “100% be friends with outside.” In a place designed to push you, those connections stuck.
From ‘Aussie’ to patriotis
Among mostly northern Greek recruits, George stood out.
“Everyone kept asking me, ‘What are you doing here?’” he laughs. “When they hear Australia, they picture something completely different.”
At first, there was curiosity and a bit of skepticism “but once they got to know me, I wasn’t the Aussie anymore,” he says. “I was a patriotis (patriot).”
Football helped, but so did time that allowed him to forge new connections, meaningful friendships.
On his first day on the base, George struck up a conversation with a stranger. Within minutes, they realised they were third cousins.
“I’d met him once as a kid in my dad’s village in Florina,” he says. “Next thing we’re on a four-way call, me, him, our dads, Greece to Melbourne. It was unbelievable.”
Weeks later, it happened again. Same surname. Another connection. Another branch of family rediscovered.
“You don’t expect to find family in a barracks,” he says. “But somehow, I did. Twice.”
The oath
The orkomosia (swearing-in) landed heavier than he expected. Standing with other soldiers, all in freshly pressed uniforms, uttering the same oath pledged through different periods of time in Greece’s history.
“That was the proudest I’ve ever felt,” he says. “I’m the first since my grandfather to serve.”
Unlike the other soldiers, my family wasn’t there but it didn’t feel like absence. “I felt them with me.”
He also felt proud to be serving in an army that shared a history with Australia through Anzac connections.
“Greece and Australia have always fought side by side,” he says.
His mother’s side of the family are from Krithia, located at the Gallipoli peninsula, where Australian soldiers fought the hopeless Second Battle of Krithia, resulting in costly assaults by the Anzacs as they moved to capture the village of Krithia and the nearby hill of Achi Baba.
“I have been aware of this shared history from a young age and every year my mother lays a wreath at the Australian Hellenic Memorial at the foot of the Shrine,” he says.
Challenges and surprises
The hardest part wasn’t the discipline but staying match fit.
“I thought we’d be exercising constantly,” he says. “But proper training? That was on me.”
Between the early morning wakeups and rotating duties, he squeezed training sessions into limited leave, often just a few hours in the afternoon to train, eat, wash, reset.
“Balancing that with the army, that was the real challenge.”
The surprise? “The food was good. Proper Greek meals. Fasolada, yiouvarlakia…you weren’t going to go hungry,” George says.
Back, but not the same
Now back in Melbourne, George is working in fintech and playing locally, with plans to return to Greece for the next season for the next step in his football journey. (Just watch this space.)
On paper, the trajectory resumes but something has shifted.
“It grounded me,” he says. “It connected me to my roots in a way nothing else has.”
For Greek Australians considering the same path, he doesn’t sugar-coat it.
“Be ready to step out of your comfort zone,” he says. “It’s not easy but it’s well worth it.”
Because somewhere between the early wake-ups, the guard posts, and the snores of sixteen men in one room, the question of ‘why am I here?’ quietly flips into something else: ‘I’m glad I came.’
Peter Tsigounis has devoted the last decade to being President of the Greek Returned Ex-Serviceman League of NSW and is proud to have 50 dedicated members of Australians and New Zealanders who he plans to lead as long as he lives.
Peter was born in Laconia, Monemvasia and at 12 years of age he moved with his family to a village called Neapoli, Laconia.
He went to high school in Neapoli, in times when attending high school was rare because after the first World War few people could afford it.
At the age of 21, Peter began his compulsory national service in Greece – completing his basic training in Araxos for 40 days before being assigned to the Air Force as a technician of aeroplane radars.
“I was taught what we need to know in case the country goes to war – how to protect the country, and fortunately there was no war but at times we were close to a war against the Turks,” Peter said.
“It was a very good experience, and it is a good thing for young boys in order to become really responsible.”
As soon as Peter finished national service in 1966, his sister, who lived in Australia, asked him to move here, telling him it was a beautiful country. Being excited by the idea, he agreed to migrate.
He voyaged alone to Sydney, Australia in 1966 travelling for 25 days in a ship called Sydney, an Italian ship of a large company Flotalaro, with over 1,000 on board across the Indian Ocean.
“I found the trip pleasant and with Greeks, Italians and Yugoslavs aboard I could learn the languages of neighbouring countries,” he said.
In Australia, he started a family-owned business and worked as a taxi driver where he developed his English conversing daily with passengers.
After the birth of his first two children, he experienced xenitia (the sense of being a foreigner in a foreign land), and in 1974 sold everything and went back to Greece, because he loved and longed for his homeland.
“I arrived in Athens and when I arrived in 1974, 20th July, there were sirens. Greece was in a war with Cyprus against Turkey,” he said.
“I told my family that I am in Greece and would have to present myself ready to go to war.”
Peter at the Christening of his third child, Helen at St Andrew’s Parish Gladeville in 1976
He recalls that everyone within Greek borders and Cyprus were sent to fight while he was in Greece by himself. Under national law, he was not permitted to fight because he had lived in Australia.
His stay in Greece was short-lived as he found that he couldn’t restart his life in his homeland and support his family living there so he and his wife made the difficult decision to return to Australia forever.
After a successful long working career, Peter joined the Greek Returned Serviceman League (Greek RSL) in 2010 wanting to make a contribution to a significant organisation with many friends who were long term members.
He views the Greek RSL as an important committee as it honours the service of many Greek serviceman who provided auxiliary services and fought alongside Australians in numerous wars, including in Gallipolli and in defence of Greece, especially in Crete during World War II.
He has described his leadership of the Greek RSL as helping to form a bridge between the Australians and Greeks who served together in theatres of war and now live harmoniously in Australia.
On ANZAC Day every year, Peter leads the Greek RSL members as they march through Sydney and is very proud that the Australian public see the Greek flag and recognise the role of Greeks alongside Australians in many wars.
Peter reciting the Ode to the Fallen for ANZAC Day commemoration at Kogarah Church on 5 May 2025
“The Greek flag in the march is recognised by thousands of people of the Australian general public as they enjoy the march with the RSL members,” Peter said.
Before becoming President, Peter served as Treasurer and Vice President for 15 years and has commented that when he first joined, many of the members were veterans and now many of the members are family of serviceman who have passed away.
Peter is an impressive example of service to his community as he is motivated by both his appreciation of Australia and his love for Greece to fulfil his role as President of the Greek RSL.
Each April, Australians gather to commemorate Anzac Day and remember over 11,000 Australian and New Zealand soldiers who lost their lives in the Gallipoli campaign in 1915. More than a century later, the campaign occupies a central place in Australia’s national narrative. It is widely understood as a moment of sacrifice, endurance, and shared hardship that helped shape a distinct national identity. Dawn services, commemorative rituals, and public narratives continue to reinforce the emotional and symbolic power of Gallipoli in Australian historical consciousness.
The name Gallipoli derives from the Greek Kallipolis, meaning “beautiful city.” Before the campaign, the peninsula was home to long-established Greek communities who formed a visible and enduring presence in the region’s social and economic life, with tens of thousands of Greeks living across the area prior to 1915.
Greeks Deported from Gallipoli, Kalgoorlie Miner, 28 June 1915
Many of these communities had already experienced displacement and deportation in the lead-up to the Anzac landings and during the campaign under the Young Turk authorities. The peninsula also formed part of a wider wartime landscape in which Christian civilian populations across the Ottoman Empire experienced mass violence, deportation, and displacement.
War and genocide in parallel
For Armenians, Greeks, and Assyrians, the same historical period remembered in Australia through the language of reconciliation with Turkey is also remembered as a time of horror and trauma due to the Ottoman genocidal campaign, which resulted in the deaths of around 2.5 to 3 million Christians between 1914 and 1923 across Eastern Thrace, Anatolia, and surrounding regions.
During the First World War (1914-1918), Armenian populations within the Ottoman Empire were subjected to systematic deportations, death marches into the Syrian desert, mass killings, and the destruction of community leadership structures. Assyrian communities in eastern Anatolia and north-western Persia faced attacks on villages, forced displacement, enslavement, and mass flight as Ottoman forces and irregular units advanced through the region.
Greek populations across Anatolia, Pontus, and Eastern Thrace, including coastal zones such as the Gallipoli peninsula, experienced deportations, violence, imprisonment, forced labour battalions, and the confiscation of property, often justified through accusations of collaboration with Allied forces or framed as wartime security measures and evacuations. While the experiences of each community differed in form and intensity, they were shaped by a broader environment in which Christian minorities were increasingly treated as internal enemies and as unassimilable within a weakening empire marked by political instability and territorial losses.
Australians as witnesses and responders
These processes were unfolding at precisely the moment that Australian and New Zealand soldiers were fighting against the Ottoman Empire on the very same territory. The nearby Greek island of Lemnos served as a key base for the Allied campaign. From Lemnos, many Anzac troops embarked for the Gallipoli landings, while Australian nurses worked in military hospitals on the island, caring for the wounded evacuated from the front.
The arrest of more than 250 Armenian intellectuals and leaders in Constantinople on 24 April 1915, marking the beginning of the Armenian Genocide, occurred just one day before the Anzac landings at Gallipoli. Prior to the Anzac landing, over 30,000 Greeks lived in Gallipoli, and by 1919 very few remained. Australian newspapers reported on the persecution of Christian civilians in the region. On 16 July 1915, The Age described how more than 30,000 Greeks had been forced to abandon their homes and were dispersed into the interior, with many imprisoned under accusations of assisting Allied submarines. Such reporting indicates that awareness of civilian suffering accompanied the military conflict and circulated within the Australian press at the time.
The Age Article, July 16 1915
Gallipoli exists not only as a symbol of military sacrifice but also as part of a wider humanitarian crisis that Australians witnessed and responded to in real time. Australian soldiers also encountered aspects of this humanitarian crisis directly. Prisoners of war later described witnessing the suffering of Christian populations during forced marches and detention. Lieutenant Leslie Henry Luscombe wrote of Armenian women and children being forced into livestock wagons under guard at Eskişehir, while Captain Thomas White of the Australian Flying Corps documented mass graves, devastated towns, and the disappearance of Armenian men during his captivity across Mesopotamia and Anatolia. These encounters formed part of a wartime experience that extended far beyond warfare and shaped how some Australians later understood the human consequences of mass violence.
Stanley Savige
In the final phase of the war, Anzac Captain Stanley Savige, part of the British mission Operation Dunsterforce, assisted in July 1918 in the evacuation and protection of tens of thousands of Assyrian refugees in north-western Persia. The rescue at Urmia became a significant historical connection between Assyrian communities and Anzac service, illustrating how military duty could intersect with humanitarian intervention. Australian engagement did not end with the armistice. The refugee crisis that followed the collapse of the Ottoman Empire prompted international relief efforts in which Australians played important roles. Major George Devine Treloar, working within League of Nations refugee resettlement efforts after the Greco-Turkish War, assisted over 100,000 Greeks in northern Greece from 1922.
George-Devine-Treloar
Many Australian humanitarians also mobilised public support for survivors and refugees. Women such as Edith Glanville and Cecilia John became associated with relief efforts to support Armenian refugees, while Joice Nankivell Loch later played an important role in humanitarian work among Greek refugees.
Joice Nankivell Loch
Australian historian Jessie Webb supported rescue initiatives involving Christian women who had been enslaved and spoke publicly in Australia about the horrors she had witnessed.
Jessie Webb
Australian humanitarian initiatives, organised through civic groups, churches, and broader community networks, raised funds and mobilised public support for relief efforts assisting displaced populations. Much of this aid was channelled through international organisations and contributed to the provision of food, clothing, and medical assistance, as well as the support of orphanages and refugee care institutions.
Between 1915 and 1930, these initiatives reflected an emerging conception of Australia as a participant in global relief efforts. These efforts are now remembered by the descendants of genocide survivors in Australia through commemorative events, storytelling, and advocacy for national recognition. Australian humanitarian figures are often remembered as heroes and saviours, and their actions continue to shape the Australian identity of descendants.
Memory in the shadow of history
Despite this historical involvement, the dominant commemorative framework through which Gallipoli has been remembered in Australia has tended to emphasise reconciliation between Australia and Turkey. Central to this narrative has been the symbolic figure of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the founding father of modern Turkey, and the widely circulated words expressing compassion for the mothers of fallen Anzac soldiers. The repeated use of these alleged words in ceremonies and public rhetoric helped construct a dual mythology that shaped bilateral relations and reinforced parallel national stories about the birth of modern Australia and modern Turkey through the shared experience of Gallipoli. Historians have noted that the authorship and authenticity of these widely attributed words remain disputed, yet their repetition has allowed a reconciliatory narrative to become central to Anzac commemoration.
The Gallipoli narrative represents a story of mateship, sacrifice, and of former enemies finding common humanity through shared suffering. It has served diplomatic purposes in reinforcing peaceful relations between Australia and Turkey, sustaining annual Gallipoli commemorations, ensuring access to Anzac graves, and reinforcing parallel stories about the birth of two modern nations. Yet this narrative has also come at a cost, particularly in overlooking the complete Australian experience and the Australian response to genocidal violence, as well as the trauma inherited by the descendants of survivors living in Australia. For Armenian, Greek, and Assyrian communities whose histories are inseparable from the persecution and displacement of the same period and closely tied to the Australian humanitarian response, the prominence of this commemorative mythology can produce a sense of exclusion and omission. It does not tell the full story of Australia’s experience and response at the time.
Each year, genocide commemorations for these communities occur almost simultaneously with Anzac Day, particularly the Armenian Genocide, which is commemorated the day before. Descendants of survivors often confront dominant public narratives that celebrate reconciliation and nation-building while leaving limited space for recognition of the genocides and the humanitarian response by Australians.
Recognising these histories does not diminish the significance of Anzac Day. It acknowledges that Australians were not only participants in military conflict but also witnesses to mass violence. It also recognises that Australians later played significant roles in relief efforts that supported survivors.
The long-term consequences of these events extend into the present. The loss of family members, forced displacement, dispossession, and the destruction of communal networks left enduring trauma and cultural scars that persist across generations. For many families who later migrated to Australia, memory became central to identity formation. Stories of suffering, survival, and resilience were transmitted across generations, while silence, fragmented narratives, and the absence of coherent accounts also shaped diaspora memory.
The transmission of these histories has become a means through which Armenian, Greek, and Assyrian Australians affirm their sense of belonging and understand their place in Australian society, a country they have helped build and shape. For many descendants of survivors, sharing these experiences is not simply an act of mourning but an assertion of presence: a claim that their families were not merely bystanders to history but an integral part of the broader Australian story.
In my own research, I interviewed Greek Australians descended from the villages of Gallipoli and eastern Thrace who carry what might be described as a dual inheritance: the pride of Anzac commemoration and the grief of displacement from the same soil. One interviewee reflected on the village of Krithia on the Gallipoli peninsula, the birthplace of her grandparents, reminding us that these were not abstract populations but communities with deep historical roots. The name Krithia appears in the Australian War Memorial in reference to the Battle of Krithia during the Gallipoli Campaign. It was this reference that prompted a process of family discovery of the loss and violence they had endured. Another interviewee, born in Sydney to grandparents from Gallipoli, only discovered this connection in adulthood, through an indirect scene in a film depicting the uprooting of Greek populations in the late Ottoman Empire. It was then that his mother revealed their origins and the loss of family members. He reflected that acknowledging the experiences of the peninsula’s Greek population would allow Greek Australians to feel more Australian. These perspectives suggest that recognition does not fragment national belonging but deepens it.
Toward responsibility
More than a century after the Gallipoli landings, Anzac Day remains one of Australia’s most significant commemorative days. Its meaning has evolved over time and will continue to do so. As Australia reflects on its multicultural reality and humanitarian traditions, there is increasing opportunity to engage more honestly with the full historical context of the First World War and its aftermath.
Acknowledging the Armenian, Greek, and Assyrian dimensions of that history completes the Australian story. The Anzac prisoners who witnessed atrocities, the officers who rescued refugees, and the humanitarians who saved lives are all part of a single, complete account of who Australians were during one of history’s most horrific periods. Armenian, Greek, and Assyrian Australians are not peripheral to that story. They are part of its fabric.
To understand Gallipoli fully is to situate it within the broader Australian experience at the time, including those who witnessed and responded to civilian suffering, as part of a more complete Australian story. Over the years, scholars, researchers, and community activists have demonstrated that these histories are not external to Australia but are embedded within its own historical experience and should be understood as an Australian matter.
The Australian Government has yet to formally recognise the genocides. Australia’s culture of remembrance continues to grapple with how to address traumatic pasts, including the violence, marginalisation, and dispossession experienced by Indigenous Australians. These discussions are not separate but are connected to a broader question of how societies remember honestly and responsibly.
The Armenian, Greek, and Assyrian genocides unfolded amid political failure and international indifference. Understanding how they happened, and how some Australians responded with courage and humanitarian conviction, offers lessons that remain urgently relevant. History, when remembered honestly, not only honours the dead. It also instructs the living.
In this sense, recognition of the Armenian, Greek, and Assyrian genocides can shape a more meaningful way of remembering, one that helps heal wounds, affirms humanitarian values, and strengthens a shared sense of belonging. It recognises the full human cost of war, persecution, and displacement, honours Australian humanitarians who helped save lives, and creates space for histories that have too often been overlooked or denied.
*Dr Themistocles Kritikakos is a Greek Australian historian and writer. He holds a PhD in History from the University of Melbourne. He is the author of Armenian, Greek, and Assyrian Genocide Recognition in Twenty-First Century Australia: Memory, Identity, and Cooperation (Palgrave Macmillan, 2026).
An accidental discovery in 2008 set historian and underwater archaeologist Dr Michael Bendon on an 18-year mission to recognise Australia’s overlooked “Second Anzacs.” While swimming off Crete, he found a submerged wartime vessel that had once carried thousands of Australian troops, according to thesenior.com.au
“Very few people know about the Second Anzacs,” Dr Bendon told The Senior.
Since then, he has worked to piece together the stories of those who served in 1941, noting many Australians are unaware their relatives fought in Greece and Crete.
In 1941, thousands of Australian and New Zealand troops were deployed to support Allied efforts against Nazi Germany. The campaign in Greece was poorly executed and heavily outmatched, later described as “ill-planned, disastrous and short”. After retreating, more than 26,000 Allied troops were sent to Crete, where they again faced overwhelming German forces.
“The campaign was hindered by poor communications between the Greek and British commanders, the primitive road and rail system in Greece, the difficult terrain, and the speed and success of the German advance,” according to the AWM.
More than 18,200 Australians were sent, many arriving as German forces surged. Following heavy losses, evacuation began-coincidentally on April 25, 1941, Anzac Day.
Dr Bendon’s discovery, the wreck of TLCA6, revealed a vessel sunk by German bombers while attempting a rescue mission. Although no crew died in the attack, around 5,500 Australians were later captured and held as prisoners of war.
Dr Bendon now aims to highlight these soldiers, often absent from records, whose descendants today may number in the millions.
An Australian artificial intelligence company, HUMRN, has chosen Cyprus as its global headquarters, citing strong incentives and access to European markets, cbn.com.cy
“The island’s expanding catalogue of digital-nomad and start-up incentives, combined with access to EU markets, outweighed larger hubs such as Berlin and Dublin,” said HUMRN CEO David May in an interview with Cyprus Inform.
HUMRN develops human-centred AI tools designed to help individuals and organisations operate effectively in complex, high-pressure environments. As part of the move, the company plans to relocate eight senior executives and recruit up to 40 local software engineers over the next 18 months.
The transition has been supported by Cyprus’s Company Relocation Fast-Track scheme, which provides 12-month work permits for key staff and their families, renewable for up to five years. May noted that administrative processes have also become more efficient.
He said bureaucracy has “improved drastically” following the introduction of online application systems last year, reducing processing times to around four weeks.
Cyprus continues to position itself as an appealing base within the EU, offering widespread English use, favourable tax conditions-including a capped 17% personal income tax for newcomers-and a 2.5% effective tax rate on qualifying intellectual property income.
The country’s Research Deputy Ministry welcomed the move, describing it as “proof that talent-visa reforms are paying off.”
