The Greek Baron by Melina Barnett

While Viktor Orbán has long been the bogeyman of Brussels, flashing his autocratic feathers with pride and scowling at democratic norms like they’re overdue taxes, Kyriakos Mitsotakis has, with silent precision and a designer suit, managed to outmanoeuvre him in the dark arts of democratic erosion. In fact, while Orbán was busy building fences, Mitsotakis was building façades. Now, with the latest scandal involving misappropriation of EU subsidies, Mitsotakis has gone from merely problematic to historically corrupt, a Balkan Baron of Brussels, crowned in ignominy

Let’s be clear: corruption scandals in Greek politics are as common as feta in a horiatiki salad. But what sets this apart is not just the staggering cynicism of the act, but its geopolitical finesse. This is not your run-of-the-mill kickback or party fund mysteriously appearing on a cousin’s yacht. This is state-level manipulation of European funds designed for recovery, growth, and cohesion, plundered while quoting market confidence and liberal modernization.

Mitsotakis, the self-proclaimed reformer, the Ivy League-branded technocrat, has long seduced European centrists with his polished diction and predictable neoliberalism. While Orbán bellows against the EU with the flair of a nationalist opera, Mitsotakis coos softly in Brussels' ears, whispering sweet nothings about digital transformation and green transitions, all while gutting press freedom at home, neutering the judiciary, and now, allegedly dipping into the EU subsidy jar like a kid at a bakery unattended.

The real magic trick? He does it all with a smile and fluent English. And that’s what makes this latest scandal so damning. It’s not the mere theft, it’s the betrayal of trust. The European Union, which once placed Mitsotakis in its neoliberal pantheon, must now confront the inconvenient truth: the face of modern corruption doesn’t wear a moustache and wave a flag. It wears cufflinks, speaks four languages, and holds press conferences flanked by EU flags.

There is a particularly Greek tragedy unfolding here. This is not just about a leader gone rogue, it’s about a democracy being suffocated under the weight of cosmetic reforms and foreign-approved budgets. Mitsotakis has sold himself as the pro-European, the anti-populist, the rational adult in the Aegean room. Meanwhile, surveillance scandals, media manipulation, and now subsidy siphoning have turned his government into a cautionary tale of how authoritarianism can arrive dressed as moderation.

And let's talk hypocrisy. While Mitsotakis's ministers lecture the public about fiscal responsibility and moral duty, they do so while allegedly benefiting from a system that redirects money intended for struggling sectors into padded pockets and political cronyism. The subsidy scandal isn't an isolated event, it's the symptom of a regime built on PR, opacity, and quiet disdain for accountability.

But don't expect a resignation. This is a government that treats outrage like background noise—unpleasant but irrelevant. The Mitsotakis machine is calibrated for survival, not reflection. It relies on the short memory of the electorate, the long indifference of EU bureaucrats, and the daily grind of crisis fatigue.

And the EU? Brussels, ever cautious not to rock the boat in the Eastern Mediterranean, may slap a few wrists and release a strongly worded statement. But will it really hold its golden child to account? Or will it simply hope that this too shall pass, that the "stability" offered by Mitsotakis outweighs the rot beneath it?

Let’s not be naïve. Greece deserves better. The EU deserves better. And history will not be kind to those who mistook packaging for principle. Orbán may have gutted Hungarian democracy with a hammer, but Mitsotakis is doing it with a scalpel—and the EU still doesn’t seem to notice the bleeding.

In the end, the race for most fascistic, most corrupt prime minister in the European Union was not won by the loudest or the brashest. It was won by the one who played it smooth and wore the right suits.