Trying to trick people with cheap gotchas: the Cyprus citizenship exam

Acquiring Cyprus citizenship requires two exams: a pretty basic B1 Greek language exam, but the one on Cyprus culture is a whole different ball gameHere’s a question (translated from the Greek) from the most recent citizenship exam for third-country nationals, on July 4: ‘Which of the following information about Cyprus is inaccurate: 1. National service is mandatory for male Cypriot citizens. 2. The Republic of Cyprus joined the Eurozone in 2008. 3. The political system of Cyprus is a parliamentary democracy. 4. Cyprus has a deputy ministry of shipping, not a ministry of shipping.’ Not so easy, really. All four sound plausible, to the extent that candidates may well start second-guessing themselves. Was it really 2008, or 2007? Is national service mandatory for all boys, or might there be some obscure exception? Most will hopefully alight on the one that sounds a bit less plausible – at least, in the English translation. The answer is indeed (3.) because, despite being a democracy and having a parliament, Cyprus is actually a presidential democracy. It’s a subtle difference. Even many Cypriots might not spot the error (especially under exam conditions), unless they’re politically savvy. It’s obvious if you know, of course – but, again, much more obvious in the English translation. The exam is in Greek – and the term for ‘parliamentary democracy’ in Greek (as used in the question) is ‘proedrevomeni dimokratia’, roughly ‘president-led democracy’, whereas ‘presidential democracy’ would be the very similar ‘proedriki dimokratia’! So, unless you speak very good Greek, you could easily misread the question as saying that Cyprus does indeed have a presidential democracy. These candidates, lest we forget, don’t speak very good Greek – nor are they expected to. The 45-minute exam in question, run by the Examination Service of the Ministry of Education, is known as the ‘Certification of Sufficient Knowledge of Basic Elements of the Contemporary Political and Social Reality of Cyprus for Third-Country Nationals’. It consists of 25 multiple-choice questions with the pass mark being 60 per cent, i.e. 15 correct answers. The exam – often called the Cyprus culture exam – is part of acquiring citizenship through naturalisation. In addition to eight years of residence (the last one unbroken, the first seven over a period of 10 years) and certain financial conditions, applicants must pass this exam as well as a language exam. The language exam usually requires proficiency in Greek to Level B1, defined as intermediate and conversational, able to interact ‘on familiar topics’ – but B1 won’t be enough to grasp quite a few of the questions in the culture exam. The vocabulary used makes no concessions. It includes words like aksiomatouhos (‘official’, or ‘functionary’) and katalipsi (‘occupation’, e.g. of a city by an army), that are almost certain to be unfamiliar. ‘Which ministry does the Ypiresia Ydrogonanthrakon belong to?’ asks one question – a tongue-twisting name most will struggle to pronounce, let alone identify as the Hydrocarbon Service. Language aside, some of the questions are just too obscure – even for natives. “I actually tested this today with some of my colleagues who are Cypriot, and I asked them if they knew the answers,” Natalie (not her real name), who sat the most recent exam, told the Cyprus Mail – “and my Cypriot colleague got the same number of answers right as I did. He didn’t know the questions that I didn’t know, either.” Which of the following (for instance) is not a peak in the Pentadaktylos range: Papoutsa, Kantara, Kyparissovouno or Ayios Ilarionas? Cypriots will know that the second and fourth are indeed in the Pentadaktylos – but almost everyone who’s not a forest ranger or hardcore hiker would have to guess between the other two. (It’s Papoutsa.) And what does any of this have to do with the ‘Political and Social Reality of Cyprus’, anyway? Which of the following is not a peak in the Pentadaktylos range; Papoutsa, Kantara, Kyparissovouno or Ayios Ilarionas? Natalie is a rarity in that she actually grew up here. She estimates there were about five “super easy” questions – like for instance ‘Which of these is an illegal port of entry?’, with three options being in the Republic and one in the occupied north – and about 10 more which “if you’re like me, you speak decent Greek and you’ve lived here long enough, you’ll know the answers”. That takes her to 15 – meaning she passes by the skin of her teeth. (She actually did a bit better, thanks to some lucky guesses.) But why should a citizenship test – for people who’ve already shown their commitment to Cyprus, and jumped through a number of other hoops – be so hard that even a long-term resident struggles to pass? That’s a big question. On the one hand, citizenship is a Holy Grail, and some proof of connection to the island’s politics and culture is essential. One hard lesson of the sordid ‘golden passports’ saga was how inappropriate it is to hand out citizenship purely on the basis of money, to people without any love of Cyprus or desire to stay here. On the other hand, the point shouldn’t be to trip people up. The state should play fair. Anyone who wants to be a Cypriot should know what all Cypriots know – and a Reddit thread (in r/cyprus) from two years ago indicates that the culture exam did indeed test that level of knowledge, at that time. The questions listed in that long-ago thread are basic. Which district includes Polis? (Paphos.) How many Cypriot MEPs are there? (Six.) When is Cyprus independence day? (October 1.) Best of all, many questions tested knowledge that’s important in living here – like for instance the contact number for emergencies (112), or the cost of a visit to a private doctor who’s in Gesy (no cost), or the maximum speed limit on the highway (100km/h). These are things people should know, if they want to be citizens. Is the culture exam deliberately being made much harder for political reasons, so as to reduce the number of successful applicants? (Around 7,000 people sat the language exam this year, says Natalie.) And if so, is that unfair? Not necessarily. After all, a country can set whatever criteria it wants for citizenship. It’s also true that applicants have become more sophisticated. An app exists – the splendidly named Hallouminati – to prepare candidates for the exam (there are no official prep classes), so it makes sense for the government to up its game in response. The Cyprus Mail reached out to the Examination Service for comment, but there was no reply at time of writing. An app exists – the splendidly named Hallouminati – to prepare candidates for the exam Two things do seem quite unfair, however. The first is the language of the questions in the culture exam being much more advanced than the Greek you’re expected to know in the language exam. That’s just contradictory and confusing. The second is the reliance on what are essentially obscure trivia questions, like the Pentadaktylos peaks or the Hydrocarbon Service. (Another example: ‘Is the House of Hadjigeorgakis Kornesios in Nicosia now an art gallery, a restaurant, a crafts centre, or a museum?’.) It’s a bit insulting, treating prospective citizens – who’ve done years of residence, met the conditions, and tend to be well-paid corporate types with skills to offer – as mere opportunists to be tripped up and exposed. Whether citizenship should be clutched to the breast like a precious jewel, saved for the chosen few, is another discussion. But let’s say it should be. Set the bar higher, by all means – but ask important questions, the kind Cypriots ought to know (even if they don’t). Ask about history, like the execution of Kyprianos, or everyday rules, like the rent control law. Even that might be too demanding. But better than trying to trick people with cheap gotchas.