Queen Frederica of Greece remains one of the most controversial figures in modern Greek history. To some, she embodied the “mother of the nation”. To others, she personified a form of power draped in philanthropy, designed to mask the authoritarianism and, at times, the corruption of her era. Her so-called charitable work sat squarely at the heart of this contradiction. Since then, it has acquired hundreds of imitators. Thousands of small Fredericas, who have elevated charity into a political instrument and a convenient vehicle for clientelist relationships.
Frederica Louise Thyra Victoria Margarita Sophia Olga Cecilia Isabelle Christina was born on April 18, 1917, in Blankenburg, Germany. She was the daughter of Duke Ernest Augustus of Brunswick and Princess Victoria Louise of Prussia, the only daughter of German Emperor Wilhelm II. She grew up in a deeply militarised and conservative environment, her childhood shaped by the collapse of the German Empire and the humiliating defeat of her country in the First World War.
In 1938, she married Prince Paul, heir to the Greek throne, and moved to Greece. A year later, the Second World War broke out, and the royal family followed the Greek government into exile, first to the Middle East and later to London. During her years in exile, Frederica cultivated a strong public presence, engaging in charitable activities and promoting the “Greek cause” abroad.
After the royal family’s return to Greece and Paul’s accession to the throne in 1947, Frederica became queen of a country deeply scarred by war and civil conflict.
The orphans
After the Civil War, Greece was a country filled with orphaned children and broken families. Poverty and fear were everywhere. Against this backdrop, Frederica emerged as the protector of the “children of the homeland”. Through visits to institutions, tours of the provinces, photographs with children’s faces and emotionally charged rhetoric, she constructed the image of a queen who “cared”.
The centrepiece of her work was the royal welfare institutions, most notably the so-called paidopoleis, or children’s villages. Officially, their purpose was to protect children who had lost their parents in the war. In practice, however, these institutions were woven into the Cold War climate of the time, often functioning as mechanisms of ideological conditioning. Charity met politics, and the outcome was never neutral.
Frederica did not confine herself to the domestic arena. She travelled abroad, addressed international audiences, and raised money and sympathy for the “Greek cause”. There, charitable work was presented as proof of a monarchy supposedly shouldering the burden of social reconstruction. For the palace, philanthropy was also a diplomatic tool.
Behind the veil of benevolence, however, many saw a deeply class-based and politically selective approach. Opponents of the monarchy accused the welfare system of choosing whom to embrace and whom to exclude. They argued that “love for children” was merely a means of shaping consciences in a country emerging from civil war without genuine reconciliation.
Over time, Frederica’s image hardened. Her charitable work did not disappear from memory, but it ceased to be automatically viewed as positive. Historians and citizens began to re-examine it in light of the power that produced and directed it.
Perhaps, in the end, the question is not whether Frederica helped people. She did. The real question is at what cost and to what end. Because in history, as in life, charity is never simply an act of kindness. It is always also an act of power.
Charity versus state welfare
Charity and state welfare often appear to serve the same purpose: helping the vulnerable. In reality, they express two fundamentally different understandings of society, power and dignity.
Charity is individual, optional and vertical. The powerful give to the weak, without obligation, without accountability, without rights. It creates dependency and is often accompanied by visibility, moral superiority or political gain. It alleviates poverty, but it does not challenge it. It manages it.
State welfare, by contrast, is institutional and horizontal. It is not based on kindness, but on rights. The citizen does not beg, but claims. Social protection is not a favour, but an obligation of the state towards all. Welfare does not aim merely at survival, but at reducing inequalities and strengthening social cohesion.
Postscript
The story of Frederica outlined above is historically specific and easier to understand if one considers the harsh post-war conditions in Greece. Through historical analogy, however, we can safely see where the policies pursued by the former queen of Greece ultimately lead.
Perhaps this perspective might also give pause to Cyprus’ First Lady, Philippa Karsera, who, as a kind of modern-day “Little Frederica”, persisted in 2026 and under conditions of opacity in maintaining a problematic fund. The financing of this fund, as revealed by the video circulated in recent days, falls short of the standards of a state governed by the rule of law. Nor does it reinforce the justified sense of pride felt by citizens of a European country that currently holds the presidency of the European Union.