• 1 Ambler 2009, pp. 57, 202.
• 2 “Les aventures de Tintin reporter en Orient,” Le Petit Vingtième, 8.12.1932-8.2.1934 (published in (...)

1On the eve of World War II, British author Eric Ambler published what is perhaps his most famous novel, The Mask of Dimitrios, also adapted into a film in 1944. The central albeit elusive character is Dimitrios Makropoulos, a mysterious figure described as “a scoundrel and a cut‑throat of the worst sort”, who has been involved in robberies, assassinations, espionage, drug trafficking, procuring, and has ended up “a respectable director of the Eurasian Credit Trust”.1 He is, in other words, a man acting beyond the limits of legality and alternating between a number of licit and illicit schemes, starting with smuggling and extending to banking activities. Similarly, in some of the serialized comic strips published between 1932 and 1941 by Belgian cartoonist Georges Remi, best-known under his pen name Hergé, and featuring the intrepid journalist Tintin, the plot revolves around the activities of an international drug ring, stretching from Western Europe to China and passing through Egypt, with smuggled opium reaching the dens of Shanghai aboard steamships traversing the Suez Canal.2 At the drug ring’s head is an equally mysterious and menacing person, Roberto Rastapopoulos, whose surname hints at a Greek origin.

• 3 Knepper 2011, pp. 50‑51.

2Such fictional accounts underscore the rise of the “drug question” during the interwar period, not only as a source of public concern but also as a subject of widespread fascination and a favoured theme in popular culture. In this context, the portrayal of a villain as an alien figure with an unusual name—embodying the “international underworld”—can be interpreted as a literary trope. This trope often served to add an air of exoticism, perpetuate well-established orientalist stereotypes, or reflect broader societal anxieties. Notably, many works of fiction from the interwar period assigned this role to characters depicted as Jews, though Greeks and other so‑called “Levantines” were also frequently cast in similar roles.3

• 4 Le Petit Vingtième 52, 29.12.1932.
• 5 Le Matin, 9.4.1931, p. 1. Gourievidis, who was described in the newspaper article as a Russian, iss (...)
• 6 The National Archives, Kew (hereafter cited as TNA), MEPOL 3/1045. One of the most notable drug tra (...)
• 7 For the possible link between Rastapopoulos and Eliopoulos, see Snelders 2021, pp. 9‑10.

3Upon closer examination, however, it becomes evident that such associations were not merely a reproduction of stereotypes but were often inspired by contemporary drug smuggling affairs, which increasingly dominated newspaper headlines during the 1920s and 1930s. It is perhaps no coincidence that the first appearance of the Rastapopoulos character, in December 1932,4 coincided with coverage of a major drug smuggling ring led by Elias Eliopoulos. In April 1931, French newspapers reported an incident involving a certain Athanasios Eliopoulos, who accused two individuals—John Gourievidis and Paul Carbone—of attempting to rob him.5 The incident was later revealed to have stemmed from a dispute over the profits of a drug smuggling operation. This sparked a series of mutual accusations and revelations, culminating a year later, in March 1932, in the arrest of Elias Eliopoulos—Athanasios’ brother—in Germany on suspicion of leading an international drug smuggling network.6 The news, reported by Reuters, may have come to Hergé’s attention and perhaps even served as inspiration for him.7

• 9 Kozma 2011, p. 445.
• 10 Mills 2007, pp. 173‑174; Kozma 2011, pp. 445‑448.

7Smuggling is driven by high profits in specific markets, which stem from scarcity and/or the imposition of taxes or prohibitive measures, combined with a strong demand for a particular commodity. This dynamic is particularly evident in the case of Indian hemp, or Cannabis indica, as it is taxonomically known, in the eastern Mediterranean at the turn of the 20th century. Egypt, having transitioned from an autonomous Ottoman province to British control in the 1880s, implemented a series of prohibitive measures on cannabis cultivation, as well as the importation and sale of hashish, between 1868 and 1884.9 Scholars attribute this ban to the authorities’ efforts to assert control over both urban centres and rural areas, as well as to the local elites’ broader ambitions of “civilizing” and “modernizing” society. These objectives were closely linked to the promotion of a healthy and productive population, the growing influence of the medical profession, and earlier religious reservations regarding intoxicants.10 Prohibition, coupled with local demand, created ideal conditions for smuggling operations, as noted by the British Consul-General in Egypt, Lord Cromer, in a letter to the Earl of Rosebery in 1892:

• 12 This legal regime, originating in the 16th century and established through bilateral treaties with (...)
• 13 Cromer 1908, p. 429.

8Incidentally, this did not prompt Lord Cromer to advocate for the abolition of the Capitulations.12 A few years later, at the end of his tenure in Egypt, Cromer remarked that “paradoxical as it may appear, the cause of European civilisation in Egypt is to some extent unavoidably identified with the treatment of European ruffians.” He argued that while it was reasonable for Egyptian customs officers to search vessels for smuggled tobacco or hashish, concerns remained about what safeguards would ensure that the same officials “will not, in disregard of the spirit if not of the text of the law, subject the captain of a vessel engaged in legitimate trade to endless vexations?”13

• 14 “Memorandum by Mr Caillard,” Reports 1893, p. 3. Notably, in the same memorandum, Caillard proposed (...)
• 15 Gkotsinas 2022b, pp. 21‑22.
• 16 “Report of the Mayor of Orchomenus in Mantinea concerning Haschisch (Translation),” in Reports 1893 (...)

9Regarding the provenance of hashish confiscated by Egyptian authorities, Alfred Caillard, the Director-General of Customs, wrote in a memorandum in December 1892 that “The plant cannabis indica is cultivated in Greece, and I believe also in Russia and the Danubian Provinces. Before the prohibition, the haschisch imported into Egypt was grown in Anatolia. The haschisch appears, however, to be manufactured chiefly in Greece.”14 Available sources indicate that this cash crop was introduced into the Greek kingdom in the 1870s and was cultivated primarily for the extraction of the plant’s resin and flowering tops, which were subsequently processed into hashish blocks.15 Interestingly, some accounts suggest that cannabis cultivation in Greece was introduced by “Egyptian, Cypriote, and other immigrants from the East, who came and taught the cultivation and preparation of this product in Greece”16—a development that may not be unrelated to the imposition of a hashish ban in Egypt.

• 17 Théry 1905, p. 144.
• 18 GMFA, 25.3/1906.

10Be that as it may, within a few decades, cannabis cultivation in Greece expanded significantly, covering considerable acreage and becoming an important source of revenue in certain provinces of the Peloponnese region. In 1905, French economist and statistician Edmond Théry ranked hashish among Greece’s principal agricultural products—alongside raisins, wine, cereals, tobacco, sugar, and cotton—stating that its cultivation in Greece was increasing year after year. He estimated that the total production over the previous decade had exceeded 700 tons, reaching an annual output of 90 tons.17 During the same period, a British memorandum on the “Hashish Industry in Greece”, dated May 1905, observed that while cannabis indica cultivation was not particularly lucrative as a crop, it nonetheless played a significant role in the hashish-producing provinces of the Peloponnese. It provided not only much-needed revenue to farmers in the aftermath of the Greek state’s bankruptcy (1893) but also waged employment for many men and women in the region, as well as considerable profits for the owners of factories processing the plant into hashish.18

• 19 Gkotsinas 2022b, pp. 41‑45.
• 20 Gkotsinas 2022a, pp. 59. The Aventures de Tintin reporter en Orient also features a character with (...)
• 21 TNA, FO 141/470/3b, p. 1

11As a regionally important cash crop, hashish remained legal in Greece until 1920 and was, in fact, taxed by the state from 1906 onward.19 This divergence in legal status from Egypt favoured contraband and transformed otherwise legal transactions at the point of supply into smuggling activities, carried out by individuals from diverse ethnic backgrounds. Perhaps the most well-known, albeit exceptional, case was that of the French adventurer Henri de Monfreid, who, along with his local ship crew, engaged in arms and possibly slave trafficking before smuggling hashish from Greece to Egypt.20 More commonly, however, Greek nationals were involved, as proximity to the production source and interpersonal networks undeniably played a role. In a memorandum written at the end of 1913, George Hunter Pasha, Director-General of the Egyptian Coast Guard Administration, described “a fight to which there is no end, for no sooner is one road blocked than a new one is opened and the intelligence and perseverance displayed by smugglers compels sincere admiration. The Greek who is practically always the principal, is admittedly in any commercial capacity more than averagely intelligent; as a smuggler, his capacity rises to a talent.”21

• 22 TNA, FO 141/470/3b, p. 1. On Hunter Pasha, see Ellis 2018, p. 146.
• 23 TNA, FO 141/470/3b, p. 2.

12He went on to argue that since hashish circulated freely in Greece, its export posed no significant challenges for smugglers: “it can be exported from any port of Europe or Great Britain, but the greater quantity comes direct from the small islands in the Greek Archipelago.”22 The report continued by outlining the preferred methods employed by smugglers to bring hashish into Egypt: specialized smuggling steamers carrying large quantities (one to two tons) and landing along the Egyptian coast; smaller parcels concealed in merchant steamers and dropped overboard to be collected by shore boats, as well as small quantities carried by individuals or hidden within merchandise.23

• 24 Akropolis, 10.09.1905, p. 1.

13A series of newspaper articles entitled “Hashish in Egypt”, published in an Athenian journal in the autumn of 1905, describes the implementation of such methods. In this account, a certain “Mister Nikolakis the Smuggler”, presumably introduced to the author through a mutual acquaintance, is depicted in a somewhat sympathetic light, with particular emphasis on the profits of each successful operation. He recounts how, after relocating from Smyrna to Alexandria, he began traveling to Greece to purchase a few kilos of hashish each time, which he then smuggled into Egypt with the complicity of a customs employee. To evade the increasing vigilance of the Egyptian authorities, he gradually resorted to more elaborate schemes, including concealing hashish inside hollow soap bars crafted in Piraeus or within Italian marble pillars.24

• 25 Akropolis, 11.09.1905, p. 2.

14Admittedly, one might question the veracity of this journalistic account, which includes a description of how Nikolakis, through the intermediary of another Greek employed by the actress Sarah Bernhardt, allegedly managed to conceal nearly half a ton of hashish in the actress’s baggage before her departure for a tour in Egypt with the Messageries Maritimes line.25 However, archival material on concrete cases of hashish smuggling into Egypt attests to similarly complex and circuitous routes, thereby confirming Hunter Pasha’s assessment that the inventiveness “displayed by smugglers compels sincere admiration”. At the same time, it is important to emphasize the growing transnational cooperation, information exchange and intensification of repression directed against illicit activities of this kind.

• 26 TNA, FO 141/470/3a.

15Both the inventiveness of the smugglers and the growing transnational cooperation among the authorities are illustrated by an incident that came to the attention of officials in the spring of 1913, when an engineer employed at a timber mill in London alerted officials to secret compartments being crafted in barrel staves and lined with thin metal. Following the advice of the Revenue Officer at Camden Town, he reported the operation to the Board of Customs and Excise, hoping for a reward “should anything come of it”. After an inquiry led by the Board’s inspector, it was discovered that the casks were to be sent aboard a steamship of the British India Steam Navigation Company, with Port‑Said as its first port of call.26 The order had been placed by a certain “Carifalis, who looks a Greek”, and the casks, listed as containing earthenware and toilet sets, were loaded onto the vessel. However, upon being alerted by the British, Port Said customs authorities inspected the shipment and uncovered 121.5 kilos of hashish concealed within twenty barrels of pottery.

• 27 Turgay 1984-1985, p. 77.
• 28 La régie hellénique des stupéfiants et la maison F. Hoffmann-Laroche & Cie, LoNA, R762C/12A/21813/6 (...)

16Alongside hashish destined for the Egyptian illicit market, another commodity aimed at a quite different market gained importance on the eve of World War I and as a consequence of the Balkan Wars (1912-1913), a series of regional conflicts involving the Balkan states and the Ottoman Empire. In their aftermath, the Greek kingdom expanded northward, annexing portions of the Ottoman province of Macedonia. This expansion not only increased Greek territory but also brought control of opium poppy fields and the strategically significant port city of Salonika, a key hub for Balkan trade. While hashish was a cash crop of some importance in southern Greece, opium constituted a major source of income for peasants and traders in the north. Its cultivation, introduced during the Ottoman period, expanded sharply from the late 19th century until World War I,27 primarily for export to European and Northern American pharmaceutical industries for the production of morphine and other opiates. A 1920s advertising leaflet from the Swiss company Hoffmann-La Roche stated that “Greek Macedonia is one of our good suppliers of raw material: opium. Our company has had excellent business relations for several decades with the well-known companies in Salonika, the export center for Greek opium”, which was particularly valued for its high morphine content.28

• 29 Mazower 2005, p. 299.
• 30 Papamichos Chronakis 2022, pp. 137‑138.

17These long-standing business relations with “well-known companies in Salonika” referred to firms that had been operating since the Ottoman period, when “Greek”, “Serbian”, or “Bulgarian” opium was simply labelled Ottoman. World War I disrupted the operations of these companies, many of which were owned by members of the city’s thriving Jewish community. Some individuals acquired Greek citizenship following Salonika’s annexation to the Greek state, while others chose to retain or obtain Western European nationalities.29 During World War I, such allegiances could be precarious for business interests. For instance, Albert Scialom, a prominent opium trader and an Italian subject, was blacklisted by the British, forcing him to mobilize his network and emphasize his credentials to the French authorities.30

• 31 League of Nations 1927, p. 70; Meron 2011, p. 64; Jovanović 2016, p. 72.

18Despite these temporary setbacks, the opium trade through Salonika continued well into the 1920s, with Scialom not only maintaining but also expanding his dominance in the market, moving the headquarters of his company to Belgrade in 1929.31 However, in the aftermath of the war, business faced new and increasingly restrictive challenges, as both national and international regulations on opium production and trade were introduced.

• 32 League of Nations 1923, p. 28 (available at: https://treaties.un.org/doc/Treaties/1922/01/19220123% (...)

19The peace treaties concluded after World War I incorporated provisions for international cooperation. Among these was the Covenant of the League of Nations, as well as an article within the economic clauses requiring signatory states to simultaneously ratify the International Opium Convention. This convention, signed in The Hague in 1912, mandated that “the Contracting Powers shall enact pharmacy laws or regulations to limit exclusively to medical and legitimate purposes the manufacture, sale, and use of morphine, cocaine, and their respective salts”. Additionally, it obligated states to regulate individuals engaged in drug manufacturing or trade.32 In this sense, World War I marked a turning point in drug prohibition history.

• 33 LoNA, R763/12A/27993/24297, 1923. A copy of the letter is also preserved in the GMFA, 1924‑KTE‑2.

21This role was exemplified in an incident in early 1923, when the Canadian Government contacted the Secretary-General of the League of Nations in Geneva to report a concerning case. A drugstore in Edmonton, Alberta, had received a letter from a company based in Salonika, bearing the letterhead of none other than Albert Scialom & Co, “opium exporters established in 1865”. The letter advertised “good druggist opium guaranteed genuine and natural, yielding 12/13% of morphia”, and stated that the company sourced its opium directly from farmers while maintaining substantial stockpiles, despite prevailing “anormal conditions” and a “very firm” market.33

• 34 LoNA, R763/12A/27993/24297, 1923.

22The company’s attempt to create new markets for Macedonian opium prompted the Canadian Government’s reaction, arguing that such activity contravened Canada’s policies on opium imports and exports. Interestingly enough, Rachel Crowdy, secretary of the Opium Advisory Committee, remarked that she could not “see [her]self that anything is very wrong with the letter from the opium exporter” and sought the opinion of Sir Malcolm Delevigne, the British delegate to the Committee and a leading figure in international drug control.34 Delevigne clarified that Canadian import licenses for opium were issued exclusively to wholesale druggists and manufactures, not to retailers. He further suggested that the League of Nations recommend to the Greek Government that opium exporters in Salonika and other Greek ports be informed of Canada’s regulatory restrictions. One year after the initial complaint, the Greek Government responded that the Ministry of Finance had circulated a notice to the Chambers of Commerce, while the Ministry of Health had informed opium traders of the restrictions imposed by Greek legislation on opium exports.

• 36 Gkotsinas 2022b, pp. 65‑66.
• 37 Transit was further complicated by the establishment of the Salonika Free Zone, which also began op (...)
• 38 GMFA, 11.2/1927a.
• 39 GMFA, 11.2/1927c.
• 40 TNA, FO 286/1043.

24Nevertheless, the long-standing structure of the opium trade, rooted in the Ottoman pre‑war period, was disrupted by Greece’s gradual adoption of the League of Nation’s guidelines on the regulation of opium production and trade.36 In October 1925, Greece established a state monopoly on opium and other narcotics, complicating the transit of Balkan opium through Salonika.37 For example, at the end of 1926, the Customs Office in Goumenissa, a town near the Salonika-Gevgelija railway, detained six cases of opium labelled “Serbian” due to the absence of the required certificate of origin. The incident sparked protests from the press of the neighboring country, which reported that the Greek Government had prohibited the transit and importation of Serbian opium into Greece.38 The dispute was ultimately resolved through the intervention of the Greek Ministry of Finance, which instructed the customs director to authorize the passage of the seized shipment.39 Meanwhile, the new regulatory framework increasingly curtailed opium cultivation in Greece. As the British Consul in Salonika observed in May 1928: “The opium exported from Salonica is entirely of Serbian origin for […] the system of licensing adopted by the Greek Government coupled with the Greek export duty has killed the trade in the local product”.40

• 41 Russell 1949, p. 239.

26These challenges were particularly evident in the case of opiates, namely morphine and heroin. Beyond the legal production and distribution of these substances for medical purposes, illicit manufacturing and trafficking took advantage of the discrepancies resulting from the gradual alignment of state legislation with the guidelines set by The Hague Convention and later the Geneva Conventions under the auspices of the League of Nations (1925, 1931, and 1936). For example, despite enacting prohibitive legislation in 1916 and 1922, the French authorities initially showed leniency toward their pharmaceutical industry’s missteps. In his memoirs, Russell Pasha documented that his strong condemnations of “delinquent countries” had a significant impact on anti-narcotics legislation. He noted that Switzerland swiftly implemented stricter measures, while France made some adjustments with a resolute commitment “not to be similarly exposed another year at these public meetings in Geneva.”41 Only when France took decisive action did a portion of opiate production shift eastward, towards countries with more permissive drug policies or weak law enforcement. Consequently, during the 1930s, clandestine laboratories producing morphine or heroin emerged in the Balkans, particularly in Bulgaria, Greece, and Turkey.

• 42 Ambler 2009, p. 159; LoNA, R4885/12/2888/793/Jacket1, 1934, p. 11.
• 43 Meyer, Parssinen 1998, pp. 124‑128.

27It is perhaps no coincidence, that according to Ambler’s novel, Dimitrios Makropoulos sourced his heroin from a factory in Radomir, a city southwest of Sofia, where an actual factory owned by Methodi Lazoff produced heroin, until its license was revoked in 1934.42 The tightening of prohibitions in the Balkans, including Turkey’s adherence to The Hague and Geneva Conventions in 1932, created a hostile environment for illicit opiate production, leading to its displacement further east.43

• 44 CNIB 1933, pp. 3‑5, 13; TNA, FO 286/1114/288. On the Greek diaspora in China, see: Akropolis, 3.4.1 (...)
• 45 LoNA, R4793/12/14299/387, 1934.

28Opiate trafficking attracted, among others, individuals of Greek origin or nationality. For instance, one of the purported collaborators of Eliopoulos, mentioned earlier, was John Voyatzis, a member of the Greek diaspora in China residing in Tientsin and described in a document of the Passport Control Office in Athens as a merchant from Egypt.44 Although the gang’s activities were exposed and Eliopoulos apparently ceased his drug trafficking operations in the early 1930s, Voyatzis and other Greeks in Shanghai and Tientsin continued smuggling heroin from China to Marseille via Egypt, according to an anonymous letter sent to the chief of the Egyptian Central Narcotics Intelligence Bureau in September 1934.45

• 46 League of Nations 1933, p. 25.
• 47 LoNA, R4799/12/28682/387, 1937.
• 48 League of Nations 1936, p. 2.

29The participation of individuals with Greek names in eastern Mediterranean opiate production and trafficking was recurring. According to League of Nations reports on seizures, some of the important illicit laboratories operating in Istanbul during the interwar period were run by such individuals. In 1932, Egyptian authorities successfully dismantled a drug trafficking network responsible for transporting heroin from Istanbul to Alexandria. The network was linked to a clandestine laboratory overseen by an individual named George Constantin Djamadanis.46 In another case, in November 1936, brothers Denis (Dionysios) and Anastasios Voutsinas were arrested at their residence in Athens. According to police and newspaper reports, they had converted the utility room on the roof of their building into a clandestine heroin laboratory, with an estimated monthly production of over twelve kilos.47 Subsequent investigations revealed that illicit drugs produced in the Voutsinas laboratory had reached Egypt. In November 1936, Nestor Joannou, a Cypriot former middle-weight boxing champion, was apprehended in Alexandria while attempting to sell heroin traced back to this laboratory.48

• 49 Tsiganou 2003, pp. 98‑108, 123‑125.

30The developments outlined above concerning legislative measures, international control, and the relocation of production provide the context in which the smugglers operated. Within this framework, they employed various strategies, which become particularly evident in the case of cannabis, another substance smuggled across the eastern Mediterranean during the interwar years. As previously discussed, at the turn of the 20th century, Greece was the primary supplier to the Egyptian market. However, the Greek state was eventually compelled to regulate production through taxation and to prohibit exports to Egypt in 1906. By 1920, cultivation was entirely banned.49

• 50 TNA, FO 141/470/3c.

31Nevertheless, the prohibition of cultivation did not immediately eliminate existing stockpiles, and weak enforcement allowed illicit trafficking to persist for several years. Thus, in the summer of 1921, the British Minister to Greece informed the High Commissioner for Egypt that two Egyptian brothers frequently travelled by motorboat to smuggle hashish from a small port in northern Greece. Additionally, nearly 1,750 kilos of hashish belonging to two Greek individuals were confiscated in the Peloponnese. However, the case was ultimately dismissed after “the intervention of interested parties of local influence”.50

• 51 Bradford 2019, p. 159.
• 52 League of Nations 1930, p. 26.

32Of course, not all cannabis farmers and traders resorted to illegal activities. Many transitioned to cultivating other crops, while others relocated their production to neighboring countries in the north, such as Albania, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, and even Romania. This phenomenon, in which illicit activities shift across borders in response to intensified control measures, is commonly referred to as the “balloon effect”.51 In the case of Greece, this trend was highlighted during a session of the Opium Advisory Committee in 1928, when the Yugoslavian representative M. Militchevitch stated that Greek merchants had “induced” Yugoslav farmers to cultivate 400-500 hectares of cannabis, with the final product intended for Egypt, the largest illicit drug market in the eastern Mediterranean.52

• 53 TNA, FO 141/470/3d.
• 54 I Elliniki, 27.7.1928, p. 6.
• 55 League of Nations 1932b, pp. 12‑13; LoNA, R3132/12/32633/157, 1931.
• 56 Eleftheron Vima, 17.2.1932, p. 1.

33If we trace the trajectory of a specific smuggler in the years following World War I, we can observe this adaptability to changing contexts. Indeed, in August 1921, a telegram from Athens to the High Commissioner for Egypt informed the latter that a certain “(Spyros?) Pachygiannis” of Zagazig had travelled to Athens and arranged for the shipment of 500 Italian Browning revolvers, 1,000 cakes of dynamite, and nearly 400 kilos of hashish by steamship from Piraeus to Port Said. The shipment was destined “for arming natives”.53 A few years later, in 1928, the same individual was implicated in another case, this time involving Bulgarian hashish.54 And in October 1931, a man named Spyridion Pahygiannis (or Spiro Pachiyanni) was arrested in Athens in possession of 64 kilos of hashish, which had been disguised as shoe soles and packed in tin cases. According to authorities, he was cultivating cannabis on a large scale in Albania in collaboration with an Albanian landowner and another Greek, who was described as “an expert in the cultivation and packing of Indian hemp.”55 Once again, the illegal product was intended for Egypt, a country with which Pahygiannis had significant ties. Before being expelled by the authorities in the spring of 1931, he had been a resident there and was even described in one newspaper as the Vice President of the Zagazig Greek community.56 This case illustrates how individuals not only trafficked multiple types of contraband—either simultaneously or alternatively, as seen in the cases of De Monfreid and Carbone—but also sought other sources of supply and established new collaborations and trust networks that transcended ethnic boundaries or state borders.

• 57 Kozma 2011, pp. 451‑456; Schayegh 2011, p. 274; Ram 2020, pp. 28‑31, 35‑57.
• 58 League of Nations 1932a, p. 63.

34Pahygiannis’ activities, which spanned more than a decade, unfolded against the backdrop of an evolving regulatory landscape, as well as the post-World War I transformations in the Middle East, which further influenced the hashish trade. Egyptian consumers increasingly sourced their supply from the Syrian, Lebanese, and Palestinian territories, which were under French and British mandates.57 Yet the Balkans remained a significant hub for drug production and trafficking. According to Russell Pasha, by the early 1930s the primary sources supplying the Egyptian market were Greece, Turkey and Syria for hashish, while Istanbul served as a key centre for heroin manufacturing and distribution.58 Even when hashish did not originate from Greece, maritime routes from the Balkans and Turkey often passed through the Greek territory, namely Piraeus or the multitude of the Aegean islands. This pattern applied to other drugs, as indicates a note prepared by the Opium Advisory Committee’s Secretariat in the spring of 1932, which provided an overview of the illicit drug trade:

• 60 LoNA S212‑13/P, p. 180.

35This overview equally underscores the significant internationalization of drug smuggling networks during the interwar period. In an effort to circumvent restrictions, access new sources of supply, and exploit promising markets, these networks extended their operations from China to the United States. In this context, regional smuggling groups could extend their reach internationally or combine localized activities with broader transnational operations. The activities of the Eliopoulos gang exemplify this trend. Similarly, the case of Anastasius Peroulis, a Greek national born on the island of Corfu in 1902, illustrates the extent of these international connections. Peroulis was arrested in Amsterdam in October 1934 carrying approximately 24 kilograms of raw opium. He collaborated with Chinese traffickers based in the Netherlands and had previously been implicated in illicit opium trafficking between Marseille, Hamburg, and Rotterdam.60

• 61 CNIB 1934, pp. 22‑26.

36The prohibition regime and evolving consumption trends further influenced smuggling activities, prompting traffickers to shift toward alkaloids such as morphine, heroin, and cocaine. These substances presented logistical advantages, being both less cumbersome and more valuable commodities. While Greek smugglers had gained notoriety at the turn of the 20th century for smuggling hashish into Egypt, their involvement in alkaloid trafficking increased during the interwar years on an international level. It remains worth exploring whether the same individuals transitioned from hashish and opium to alkaloids or if distinct groups emerged in response to shifting market demands. Nevertheless, some organizations diversified their operations across multiple substances, as exemplified by the Lambros Yannicos affair. Arrested along with numerous collaborators in the early 1930s, Yannicos had been involved in smuggling hashish, opium, and heroin from Turkey to Egypt.61

• 62 CNIB 1935, p. 101; CNIB 1936, p. 89.

37Within this broader internationalization of drug smuggling, the eastern Mediterranean remained a central hub, as maritime routes passed through the Suez Canal and railway connections linked the Balkans with Central and Western Europe. As for “Greek” smugglers, they continued to play a prominent role in the region up until the mid‑1930s. According to data collected by the Central Narcotics Intelligence Bureau in Egypt, Greeks constituted a significant, though declining, proportion of the major traffickers apprehended in the early 1930s: 142 out of 319 in 1931 (44.5%), 95 out of 273 in 1932 (34.8%), 42 out of 143 in 1933 (29.4%), 50 out of 177 in 1934 (28.2%), and 56 out of 195 in 1935 (28.7%). While Greeks constituted the largest foreign community in Egypt at the time, their dominance in the narcotics trade was notable, as they even surpassed Egyptian nationals in the category of “big dealers”.62

• 64 TNA, FO 141/471/1.

40Similar astonishing trajectories emerge from the archival material produced by the repressive authorities. For instance, a 1928 memorandum by the British Home Office described the comings and goings of a certain Leonidas Melissaratos, condemned for trafficking with his associates four kilos of heroin from Greece to Alexandria.64 According to the British authorities’ information, Melissaratos was born in Odessa in 1886 and was in possession of a Greek passport. In the early 1920s he was travelling between China, Greece, France and Germany, where we encounter him in 1923 as a member of a drug ring including another Greek, a Turk and an Egyptian. The next year and until 1927 he settled in Hamburg and was prosecuted for smuggling drugs from Germany to China. He was also involved in the export of narcotics from Switzerland to China via travellers’ baggage forwarded through Thomas Cook & Son or as diplomatic baggage. In 1927 he travelled to Egypt through Riga, where his wife resided, and Athens, before being arrested.

• 65 League of Nations 1934, p. 26.

42One might argue that attributing a specific national, ethnic or religious label can be anachronistic or abusive, on the sole basis of a name, a place of birth, or a passport. Indeed, as was the case of fictional Makropoulos, it appears that during the interwar period it was not uncommon for smugglers to have recourse to “numerous irregularities” to obtain passports issued in due form or to squarely procure fake ones.65

• 66 Brubaker, Cooper 2000, pp. 17‑19.

43What is more, in most cases we lack information on how individuals perceived themselves, on their “self-understanding”.66 Nevertheless, beyond feelings of belonging, nationality played a significant role for both individuals and state authorities, who were often inclined to assign national labels to people, as evidenced by the classifications found in the tables of the Egyptian Annual Reports. In fact, in many cases nationality could be a decisive detail.

• 67 League of Nations 1932a, p. 64.
• 68 Hanley 2017, pp. 14‑15.

44For one thing, in the Egyptian context and under the capitulatory regime, which was officially abolished with the Montreux Treaty of 1937, being Greek (or British, French, Italian, and so forth) conferred a range of privileges. On the one hand, the Capitulations prohibited the Egyptian authorities from inspecting the bank accounts of foreign individuals or conducting domiciliary searches between sunset and sunrise.67 The same protections extended to vessels, where the presence of a consular representative was required during searches, thereby providing significant advantages for illicit activities. On the other hand, the Capitulations stipulated that foreign defendants in criminal cases would be tried by Consular Courts in accordance with the principle of extraterritoriality.68

• 69 CNIB 1932, p. 5.

45In the case of Greek nationals, at least until the introduction of a stricter legislative framework in Greece in the summer of 1932, this arrangement often resulted in more lenient sentences and more favourable treatment compared to local traffickers, who faced up to five years of imprisonment and a fine of 1,000 Egyptian pounds. For instance, when a criminal network led by Jason Hadjioannou and George Macris, engaged in smuggling hashish and heroin from Istanbul to Egypt using forged consular documents from the Italian General Consulate in Alexandria, was apprehended, the Italian members of the group received several months of imprisonment and a fine, whereas the Greek leaders were released on bail. One of them left for Istanbul, while the other applied for an Egyptian visa to facilitate his return after a visit “to his native country”.69

• 70 Akropolis, 18.3.1932, p. 7.
• 71 CNIB 1933, p. 45.

46Even after the introduction of stricter penalties, legal loopholes persisted, which could be exploited by drug traffickers. Specifically, appeals were adjudicated by courts in the offenders’ “motherland”, where defendants were more likely to be acquitted. Such was the case of Denis (Dionysios) Voutsinas, who was arrested in November 1936 for operating a clandestine heroin laboratory in Athens, as mentioned above. In 1932, following a conviction by the Alexandria Consular Court for drug trafficking, resulting in a 3½ year prison sentence and relegation, he was acquitted by the Athens Court of Appeals.70 According to Thomas Russell Pasha, this clemency could be attributed to the fact that, in some countries, “the narcotic habit is perhaps not a national problem” and that prosecution witnesses were absent, while defence advocates took advantage of procedural irregularities or gaps in the evidence.71

• 72 Hanley 2017, p. 227.

47In this context, foreign nationality emerged as a significant asset, one that could even be leveraged by Egyptian nationals, who in some cases used foreign intermediaries as figureheads in the operation of hashish dens.72 This phenomenon underscores the value of acquiring a foreign nationality, a reality reflected in Lord Cromer’s early 20th-century observation, which also highlights the limitations of thinking in terms of nationality:

• 74 LoNA, R4798/12/26148/387, 1936, p. 6.
• 75 GMFA, 1933‑Β/11/ΙΙα/Η (Narcotics in Egypt). French translation of the letter in LoNA, R3154/12/3628 (...)

48Beyond the privileges associated with nationality, smuggling activities also benefited from other forms of connections, which were essential for establishing trust in an unregulated trade environment, where no external arbitration was possible, and trust capital was crucial. These connections often took the form of family ties, as exemplified by drug smuggling networks operated by brothers, such as the Eliopoulos, Voutsinas, and Pahygiannis.74 Other familial relationships were also involved, sometimes extending to parents and children. One such case involved a father who, after being expelled from Egypt to Athens for drug trafficking, wrote to his son, who had remained in Alexandria, advising him on the strategies to avoid legal trouble. The letter, which was intercepted by authorities, illustrates traffickers’ deep understanding of the judicial system and its loopholes by traffickers, as well as the potential collusion of diplomatic agents.75

• 76 Snelders 2021, pp. 64‑65.

49Moreover, while nationality was ambiguous or evolving, common local origins and ethno-local ties remained strong and, in some cases, played a fundamental role in the organization and operation of trafficking networks. For instance, Anastasius Peroulis’ close associates in his smuggling operations from Marseille to the Netherlands were primarily men from the Ionian islands, particularly Corfu, as emphasized by Stephen Snelders.76

• 77 Dalachanis 2017, pp. 155‑157.
• 78 Cromer 1908, pp. 251‑252.
• 79 TNA, FO 141/470/3e, p. 2.

50These dynamics were characteristic of diasporic communities more broadly, fostering multiple senses of belonging and points of reference. While family relations and local origins functioned at a subnational level, diasporic ties facilitated the formation of larger, transnational networks conducive to both legal and illicit commerce. Unlike other foreign communities, which were mainly concentrated in urban centres, the Greek diaspora in particular, established in Egypt since the 19th century, had formed numerous communities, scattered across the country, including in small villages.77 If, at the turn of the 20th century, “Greek action and influence” was reportedly blamed for introducing Egyptian villagers to alcohol,78 by the 1920s, Greeks were also credited with the widespread distribution of hashish across the territory: “The retailers, who are usually Greeks or Armenians, carry it by train or by boat up the Nile and re‑sell it to Café-Keepers and others.”79

• 81 League of Nations 1932a, p. 65.

52This passage mobilizes an expanded definition of who is Greek to defend national reputation and portray Greek communities as the targets of envy and slander by other Levantine groups. Concerns over national honour extended beyond local Greek communities in Egypt and also preoccupied the representatives of the Greek state, whether in the League of Nations or in consular offices. During the 15th Session of the Opium Advisory Committee in April 1932, Greek representative Alexandros Contoumas felt obliged to publicly object to Russell Pasha’s claim that hashish reached Egypt via Greek ports and to his references to the Hadjioannou-Macris gang, by insisting that “Greece could not be held responsible for acts committed abroad by persons who happened to be Greek nationals.”81

• 82 LoNA, R4795/12/18531/387.
• 83 MacArthur-Seal 2025, p. 684.

53As the Tachydromos-Omonoia article suggests, a national label could mask a wide range of individual circumstances, especially in the fluid context of the Ottoman empire and its successor states. Nationality did not necessarily correspond to language, religion, or other markers of belonging. For instance, the case of Nicola Christoforou and Antoine Galanos, one a British subject (probably Cypriot) and the other a local subject, who attempted to smuggle hashish into Suez in April 1935, exemplifies the category of “smugglers of Greek origin” described in the newspaper.82 Regardless of official nationality, what is important here is that personal names often pointed to particular ethnic or communal groups. As Daniel-Joseph MacArthur-Seal has shown in the case of Istanbul, “the names of suspects were widely publicized. Given the city’s Greek, Armenian, Jewish and Muslim naming conventions, in most cases a contemporary reader could have instantly grasped the communal identity of individuals implicated in the production and distribution of opiates.”83

• 84 Montarron 1933, p. 9. Also in Montarron 1938, p. 75: “Mais ce sont des Grecs qui, vraiment, comprir (...)
• 85 Assouline 2011, p. 42.
• 86 Block 1989, pp. 323‑325; Mays 2020, pp. 4‑6.
• 87 MacArthur-Seal 2025, p. 691.

54Thus, names, and the national or ethnic identities they were perceived to signal, played a central role in constructing associations and stereotypes. These found expression in official reports, journalistic accounts, and even literary texts. For example, in a 1933 series published in the French magazine Détective, journalist Marcel Montarron, drawing on League of Nations documentation, described the activities of various drug trafficking groups. Before discussing the Eliopoulos gang case, he remarked: “it was Greeks who, truly, understood all the advantages that could be gained—before too many obstacles had arisen—from such a profitable trade”.84 Years later, the creator of Tintin, Hergé, similarly reflected on the ethnic coding of delinquency, explaining that the name was pivotal in shaping the character of his villain: “Everything came out of his name. Rastapopoulos, for me, is more or less Greek, a shady Levantine character, without a country, that is without faith or ethical code. Another detail, he is not Jewish!”85 Indeed, alongside Greeks; both Jewish and Chinese diasporic communities were frequently associated with the drug trade in the early 20th century.86 In this case as well, one could argue that “minority and foreign-national residents’ trans-communal and transnational networks facilitated access to materials, expertise, capital and markets.”87

• 88 Eleutheron Vima, 1.4.1933, p. 2; Tachydromos-Omonoia (Alexandria), 3.4.1933, p. 5; Phos (Cairo), 4. (...)
• 89 Charles B. Dyar, Acting Treasury Representative, to Commissioner of Customs, Treasury Department, A (...)
• 90 League of Nations 1934, p. 30.
• 91 LoNA, R4900‑12-8058‑2649, 1935.

55At the same time, individuals accused of drug trafficking were often keen to defend their good name and reputation. When the Greek press reported on Russell Pasha’s revelations regarding the Eliopoulos gang, the presumed leader, Elias Eliopoulos, responded with a letter to an Athenian newspaper, later republished in Egyptian newspapers.88 In his letter, he asserted that, although he had been involved in the opiates trade, he had always complied with the laws of the countries in which he resided and had ceased his activities when legislation changed, such as in France or Turkey. His brother Georges went further, filing a libel suit against publishers Lovat Dickson & Thompson and the estate of Baron Harry d’Erlanger, whose book The Last Plague of Egypt recounted the activities of the Eliopoulos brothers and their associates.89 It may not be coincidental that Russell’s own memoirs, published after World War II, make no explicit reference to Eliopoulos. Such efforts to restore one’s reputation through legal means were not unique. Lambros Yannicos, previously mentioned and described by Russell Pasha as operating “with his numerous compatriot drug traffickers in Greece and Turkey”,90 also filed a libel case, this time against the BBC. The case stemmed from a June 1934 broadcast, in which Russell Pasha cited Yannicos’ operations.91

• 93 “Statement by Elie Eliopoulos regarding the Narcotic Traffic made at Athens September 21, 22, 23, 2 (...)

58Moreover, the voices of traffickers seldom emerge in the sources, which thus preserve only tranches de vie rather than coherent biographies. When the protagonists of smuggling affairs do speak, their voices are often mediated by other individuals or institutions, and shaped by the pursuit of specific objectives. Such was the case of Eliopoulos himself, who, in September 1932 in Athens, gave a statement to an American agent. Another trafficker, Seya Moses, described it as “a monstrous distortion of the facts”, aimed at “conceal[ing] all truth damaging to ELIE […] to distract attention from his own activities and to inspire confidence in himself, if not to prepare the way for his rehabilitation.”93 Eliopoulos’ statement, along with documents meticulously compiled by American authorities well after World War II, helps trace the trajectory of his life. Born in Piraeus at the end of the 19th century, he studied at the prestigious Robert College in Constantinople. During the Balkan Wars and World War I, he became a supplier to the Greek army. A few years later, he established an extensive international drug trafficking network spanning from New York to Tientsin in China, with operations in Hamburg, Paris, Athens, and Alexandria. When internal conflicts within the gang led to mutual betrayals and subsequent denunciations to the French and Greek authorities, reminiscent of the dissolution of Dimitrios Makropoulos’ gang in Eric Ambler’s novel, Eliopoulos reportedly distanced himself from any illicit activities. After World War II, he went on to establish mining and chemical companies.

• 94 Papamichos Chronakis 2022, p. 137.

59Political turmoil and war created ideal conditions for such chameleonic transformations. A particularly compelling question is how individuals navigated between different countries, names, and identities, in a region where national consolidation and ethnic homogenization were forcefully pursued. Drug smugglers were not alone in finding it difficult to conform to the rigid definitions of national identity—as Paris Papamichos-Chronakis aptly remarks in the case of the Scialom opium trade during World War I, “nationality was not a straitjacket”.94

• 95 League of Nations 1932d.

60However, drug traffickers were perhaps among the most outwardly expressive and globally minded of individuals, capable of adapting to changing circumstances and even switching between various commodities, whether legal or illegal. One striking example of this adaptability is found in an early 1933 report by the Egyptian Central Narcotics Intelligence Bureau, detailing the activities of one Dimitri Leboutis or Loubetis.95 A familiar figure in their records, Leboutis was born in Ottoman Salonika in 1865 and worked as a pastry chef, hence his nickname Dimitri El Halawani (The Confectioner). He settled in Alexandria in 1910 and soon became involved in the illicit drug trade, which was operated as a family business. Expelled from Egypt in 1916, he returned after the war and resumed his illegal endeavours, notably smuggling hashish and arms from Antwerp and Barcelona. Later, he also engaged in heroin trafficking, leading to his second expulsion in December 1932.

• 96 Block 1989, p. 325.

61In other words, much like legal merchants, drug traffickers demonstrated a remarkable ability to adapt their operations swiftly in response to market demands and regulatory measures. Even after the imposition of rigid constraints within the framework of nation-states and prohibitive regulations, they remained flexible and open to new markets and products, guided by the information at their disposal. Nonetheless, nationality was not irrelevant, though not in the sense that it determined business alliances, as “European drug syndicates were constructed by individuals able to tap into an international community taking advantage of ethnic and kinship ties though never confined by them”.96 Indeed, the ability to cooperate with individuals of different ethnic or religious backgrounds, as illustrated by some of the examples cited above, was a key factor in their success. Rather, nationality increasingly shaped the conditions under which traffickers operated, their treatment upon arrest, and the social representations of their actions. Early on, nationality became a powerful argument in public and diplomatic debates surrounding drug trafficking, and it was often connected to broader regional concerns in the eastern Mediterranean.

• 97 Le Phare d’Alexandrie, 3.6.1909, p. 1: “Pourquoi attaquent‑ils les Hellènes, disant qu’ils ont gâté (...)

62Under this light, we can better understand why, in the beginning of the 20th century, the French-language newspaper Le Phare d’Alexandrie, edited by John Haicalis Pasha, reported with a subtle but appreciable satisfaction the reactions of Arabic-language newspapers to the seizure of a ton of hashish sent to a British consular employee. One such reaction read: “Why do they attack the Hellenes, saying that they have corrupted the minds of the lower class by trading in this dangerous item? And now the English are engaging in this trade among us”.97

• 98 “The Eastern Mediterranean,” in Philips’ Mercantile Marine Atlas, London, George Philip & Son, Lond (...)

64First, Greece’s proximity to Egypt, then the largest drug market in the region, was frequently noted in official documents. Alexandria, for instance, was only 374 nautical miles from Candia, 457 from Syra, and 525 from Piraeus.98 One report from early 1930s noted: