The Rule of Law Illusion in Cyprus – Independence Without Accountability

Cyprus seldom appears in Europe's rule of law debates. While Brussels scrutinises Poland and Hungary for dismantling judicial independence, the Republic of Cyprus quietly maintains the façade of a well-governed democracy, small, stable, and uncontroversial. Yet beneath this appearance of order lies a legal system defined by concentration of power, minimal oversight, and selective accountability. The 2025 EU Rule of Law Report commends "further progress", but its diplomatic  restraint suggests the opposite: a state where the rule of law is not defied but steadily hollowed out from within. 

This erosion stems less from political hostility towards European values than from the constitutional design of Cypriot institutions. Power has become so centralised that independence itself now functions as insulation from scrutiny. At the core of this paradox stands the Attorney General's Office, the Republic's most powerful institution and the main custodian, and occasionally the chief obstacle, of justice. What was meant to safeguard the rule of law has instead transformed into its most sophisticated form of control.

At the centre of Cyprus's rule of law problem lies an office whose authority would be unthinkable in most European democracies. Under Article 113 of the Constitution, the Attorney General controls every stage of criminal justice: the power to initiate, conduct, or discontinue prosecutions belongs exclusively to this one official. Appointed by the President and answerable to no other institution, the Attorney General embodies a model of independence so absolute that it borders on unaccountability. In theory, this design shields prosecutions from political interference. In practice, it shields the state itself from legal exposure.

The problem is rooted in the very architecture of the Republic. The 1960 Constitution was drafted as a bicommunal power-sharing arrangement between Greek and Turkish Cypriots. When the Turkish Cypriot representatives withdrew from state institutions in 1964, Cyprus began operating under the "Doctrine of Necessity” - a legal fiction allowing the Republic to function without the constitutional amendments such a rupture required. What began as a temporary solution has since hardened into a permanent framework, enabling broad executive discretion and leaving little space for external oversight. Within this framework, the Attorney General's office evolved into a constitutional anomaly, rendering him unchecked from a Turkish Cypriot Deputy Attorney General.

The 2024 EU Rule of Law Report warned that there is "no possibility of review" of decisions by the Attorney General not to prosecute or discontinue proceedings, an arrangement the European Commission diplomatically described as "raising questions about the effectiveness of remedies." The 2025 report acknowledged only "limited progress" noting that legislative plans to create a separate General Public Prosecutor remain incomplete. Meanwhile, the Law Office continues to insist that such changes would violate the Constitution's original balance of powers, a balance that has long served the public interest.

This resistance has turned reform into performance. For two consecutive years, the government has promised to divide the Attorney General's advisory and prosecutorial roles, but the proposal remains trapped in consultation. The result is a closed system: an office that advises the executive, directs prosecutors, and can terminate any investigation without external scrutiny. What appears as independence from politics is in effect, insulation from accountability, creating a system where the rule of law depends not on institutions, but on the discretion of one individual.

The long and painful story of Thanasis Nikolaou has become a national mirror reflecting the weaknesses of Cypriot justice. In 2005, the young National Guard conscript was found dead beneath a bridge near Limassol. Authorities quickly concluded that he had taken his own life, despite injuries inconsistent with that finding. For years. His family pleaded for a genuine investigation, insisting that Thanasis had been the victim of assault and that evidence had been ignored or destroyed. Their persistence eventually reached Strasbourg, where the European Court of Human Rights twice ruled that Cyprus had violated its obligation to conduct an effective investigation. 

For many Cypriots, the Nikolaou case has come to symbolise a wider truth. When the same office that advises the state also decides whether its agents should face trial, the result is predictable. Justice become discretionary, truth becomes negotiable, and the rule of law is minimised to an administrative choice. The tragedy of one soldier thus exposes the deeper tragedy of a legal system that has forgotten how to hold itself to account.

In 2025, Cyprus once again found itself condemned by the European Court of Human Rights, this time in the case of N.T v Cyprus. The applicant, a woman from Larnaca, had reported to the police that she had been raped as a teenager. A full investigation followed, and prosecutors initially filed charges. Yet months later, the Deputy Attorney General abruptly decided to discontinue the case, citing concerns about the victim's credibility and "contradictions" in her statements. No public explanation was provided, and the reasoning behind the decision was withheld from the complainant. 

The Strasbourg Court found that this conduct violated Articles 3, 8 and 14 of the European Convention on Human Rights, holding that the Cypriot authorities had failed to discharge their positive obligation to investigate and prosecute sexual violence effectively. In a scathing judgement, the Court criticised the language and attitudes of the Law Office, noting that prosecutors had relied on "moralising and sexist stereotypes" that conveyed prejudice and discouraged victims from coming forward. It described the applicant's treatment as "secondary victimisation", highlighting how official attitudes had compounded her suffering.

The case revealed not only institutional bias but also the dangers of unchecked discretion. When the power to end a prosecution rests entirely with two unelected officials, decisions can be shaped by personal views rather than the legal principle. The N.T. judgement is not merely about a single failure to prosecute; it exposes the structural conditions that make such failures inevitable. It demonstrates how a system designed to ensure independence can, in the absence of oversight, become an instrument of discrimination and denial.

The failures of justice in Cyprus are not isolated mistakes but symptoms of a deeper pattern. The European Commission's 2024 Rule of Law Report noted that few high-level corruption cases had advanced and that the number of convictions remained limited. The following year's report repeated the same observation, adding that while new anti-corruption structures had been established, they still lacked the independence and capacity to investigate cases involving political or economic power. The newly created Independent Authority Against Corruption (IAAC) has yet to demonstrate genuine autonomy, constrained by limited resources and a culture of deference to the Law Office.

Nowhere is this more visible than in the Cyprus Investment Programme, better known as the golden passport scheme. Between 2013 and 2020, citizenship was sold to thousands of wealthy investors, many of whom should never have qualified under the law. When international scrutiny intensified after Al Jazeera's Cyprus Papers investigation, the government promised transparency. Yet the subsequent Nicolatos Inquiry revealed that more than half of the naturalisations were unlawful, involving ministers, lawyers, and developers who profited from the programme. Despite these findings, no senior official has been prosecuted. The same Attorney General's Office that advised the state on the scheme also oversaw the decision on whether to investigate it. 

Corruption in Cyprus therefore functions less as a breach of the system than as one of its organising principles. Institutions protect one another through mutual discretion, while the EU's cautious praise for "limited progress" provides political cover. 

Despite repeated warnings, Brussels continues to treat Cyprus with remarkable patience. The 2025 Rule of Law Report again welcomed "further progress", echoing the same language it has used for four consecutive years. Each report repeats the same recommendations: divide the Attorney General's advisory and prosecutorial roles, establish judicial review of non-prosecution decisions, and strengthen anti-corruption mechanisms. Yet no binding pressure follows.

The contrast with the Union's approach to Poland and Hungary is striking. In those cases, the European Commission invoked infringement proceedings, withheld funds, and mobilised political sanctions. In Cyprus, the response has been limited to dialogue. The difference is not one of principle but visibility. A small state that avoids open confrontation attracts little attention, even when its institutions quietly erode the very values the EU claims to defend. The rule of law may be a pillar of the Union, but its enforcement remains selective.  

By tolerating discretion if it is exercised politely, Brussels has allowed the appearance of compliance to replace genuine reform. Cyprus has learned to speak the language of progress without changing its practices, and the Commission has learned to accept that rhetoric as enough. The result is a dangerous precedent: that the rule of law can be hollowed out through comfort rather than conflict.

Cyprus does not suffer from a lack of laws but from a lack of balance. Reform will require more than new titles or advisory committees. The Republic must finally separate the Attorney General's dual functions, establish judicial review for decisions to discontinue prosecutions, and grant real autonomy to bodies tasked with investigating corruption. These are not technical adjustments but constitutional imperatives. Without them, the same cycle of discretion and impunity will continue under the guise of independence.

The European Union, too, must recognise that its credibility depends on consistency. The rule of law cannot be defended selectively, nor can progress be measured by the language of reports rather than the reality of reform. Cyprus has the legal traditions, professional capacity, and democratic culture to meet these standards; what is missing is the political will to confront the comfort of power.

Image: Wikimedia Commons/EU Cyprus

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