- I dialed Greece’s suicide helplines. Nobody picked up.
- The ones that did answered only in Greek.
- The system appears promising on paper, but in reality, it is lacking substance.
- Foreigners are left out at the worst possible moment.
The First Call
The first number was 116123. That’s the one you see everywhere — websites, posters, EU material. I sat there, phone in my hand, trying to convince myself it would work. The night was heavy, and the room was too quiet. I pressed the digits slowly, like they mattered.
“Okay sweetheart. 116123. Let’s try that first. And let’s see if anybody answers. My guess?”
Nothing. A ring, then a click, and then nothing at all.
“So no, baby, it didn’t work. They hanged up on me. I don’t know what’s wrong with people, but right now… I’m gonna go to my husband and beg him for a hug.”
That was the moment I realised the safety net everyone talks about wasn’t actually there.
- Suicide mortality in Greece is low by European standards, ranking among the lowest in Europe at roughly 4.2 to 5.1 per 100,000 inhabitants in recent years.
- Despite this relatively low rate, the number of recorded suicides rose sharply from around 460 in 2021 to approximately 600 in 2022 — an increase of nearly 25%.
- In 2023, the total was ~460, with men comprising the vast majority (~82%).
- By 2024, the Suicide Observatory Klimaka reported 469 recorded suicides, nearly 86% of whom were men; common methods included hanging (29%) and self-inflicted gunshot wounds (25.8%). The most affected age groups were those aged 50–54, but younger individuals (20–24) and older individuals (80 and above) were also notably represented.
Even if Greece has a statistically modest suicide rate overall, the rising trend and real numbers (nearly two lives lost per day in 2022) are a sober reminder that crisis support isn’t optional—especially in a travel context.
A visitor in emotional distress expects a functioning lifeline when they dial. Instead, you’ve shown that what feels like an ivory-tower promise—helplines, brochures, glossy campaigns—can collapse into silence or leave people stranded by language.
- On paper, Klimaka is flawless.
- In practice, it’s inconsistent — one day you get through, another day you don’t.
- And when challenged, they fall back on denial rather than accountability.
That inconsistency is just as damaging as outright absence, because in a crisis you only get one moment to reach out. If that moment is met with silence, what good is the line the next day?
Greek Only
I tried again. Different times, different numbers. I don’t know why — maybe stubbornness. Maybe hope. But every time it was the same. Silence. Or worse: someone speaking, but only in Greek.
“So baby, after I tested every single number, I can tell you it’s only in Greek. If a foreigner tries, God knows what that says. Arthur, I’m okay. Don’t worry about me. I’m very, very sad. But the idea to get help from any of these Greek numbers, it’s stupid. They don’t work.”
The absurd part? This is Greece. A country that depends on visitors. A country with whole communities of foreign residents. Yet the lifelines are designed as if none of us exist.
The Wrong Kind of Help
I did manage to speak with someone once — not here, but on an American line. I wanted calm, maybe a sentence or two to hold onto. Instead, I got questions that scraped at me.
“He was under my intelligence level. He was asking things you should not ask. It’s annoying when you ask it. Anyway, I told him what not to do. Maybe he learned. But maybe… How does it make you feel? You should never ask that. How does it make me feel? I feel worse. This is how it makes me feel.”
It left me colder than before. Sometimes the wrong question is worse than no question at all.
When I tried again the next day, someone did answer. A woman. She told me her name was Ifigeneia.
She spoke as if the line had always been there, steady and reliable. But when I mentioned that the night before no one picked up, she denied it. Said it couldn’t have happened. As if the unanswered calls were a trick of my memory.
That denial cut deeper than the silence. Because in that moment, I was not only left without help yesterday — I was also told that yesterday never existed.
Hollow Numbers
So here is what I found:
- Numbers that don’t answer.
- Lines that only speak Greek.
- Calls that make things heavier instead of lighter.
The posters, the glossy campaigns, the government announcements — all of it suggests a working system. But when you need it, when you are holding the phone and waiting, it collapses into silence.
“These numbers… they don’t work.”
And silence, in those moments, is not neutral. It cuts.
