On October 15, 2025, the usually sterile corridors of the University General Hospital Attikon in Athens became the unlikely stage for a dramatic confrontation between riot police and the very doctors and nurses tasked with saving lives. What was supposed to be a day of celebration—marked by the inauguration of a new oncology department and a visit from Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis—quickly spiraled into chaos as protesting medical staff collided with heavily armored officers, drawing national attention to the simmering crisis within Greece’s public health system.
According to the Associated Press, dozens of health workers gathered outside the hospital, their white coats a stark contrast to the dark uniforms of riot police. The medical staff’s demands were clear: they wanted a face-to-face meeting with Prime Minister Mitsotakis to air grievances over chronic staff shortages, stagnant wages, and what they described as increasingly unbearable working conditions. Instead, what they got was a volley of pepper spray, shields, and batons as police attempted to push them away from the hospital entrance—a scene captured and widely reported by multiple news outlets, including AP and Morning Star.
“They think we’re going to thank them because they owe us 10,000 days of leave. They think we’re going to thank them for keeping our salaries frozen,” said Giorgos Sideris, head of the Association of Hospital Doctors of Athens and Piraeus, in a statement quoted by AP and Morning Star. Sideris, who himself works at Attikon, painted a grim picture of the daily reality inside the hospital. He revealed that, due to severe overcrowding, 130 patients had recently been forced to sleep on stretchers in the corridors—an image that seems almost unthinkable in a modern European capital.
“An extra 125 nursing staff are urgently needed just to operate at safety level,” Sideris emphasized, underscoring the dire need for reinforcements. The protest wasn’t just about numbers on a payroll; it was about the very ability of the hospital to provide safe, effective care to its patients.
Prime Minister Mitsotakis, accompanied by Health Minister Adonis Georgiadis, had arrived at Attikon to inaugurate a brand-new oncology ward and to inspect the hospital’s refurbished emergency department. The new cancer unit, built with funds from a charitable organization, is expected to treat more than 20,000 patients annually—a 41% jump from 2019, according to the Prime Minister’s office and reported by AP. On paper, this expansion is a significant achievement, promising better care for thousands of patients battling cancer each year.
During his remarks at the ceremony, Mitsotakis acknowledged both the progress and the ongoing challenges. “Regular funding for Attikon had increased from 90 million euros to 150 million euros,” he noted, pointing to the government’s commitment to strengthening public healthcare. Staffing levels, he added, had also improved, “not to the level that we’d like, but we continue to insist on this great effort to comprehensively restructure the National Health System.” It was a candid admission that, while steps have been taken, the system is still far from where it needs to be.
Yet, for many of the hospital’s frontline workers, these assurances rang hollow. The reality on the ground—overcrowded wards, exhausted staff, and a backlog of unpaid leave—has bred frustration and, increasingly, open dissent. Medical personnel say that the government’s efforts, while appreciated, have not kept pace with the mounting pressures facing Greece’s hospitals.
The clash at Attikon was not an isolated incident but rather the latest flashpoint in a long-simmering debate over the future of Greece’s National Health System. The COVID-19 pandemic had already exposed deep cracks in public healthcare across Europe, and Greece was no exception. Years of austerity measures, implemented in the wake of the country’s financial crisis, left the system underfunded and understaffed. While recent increases in funding have provided some relief, they have not erased the scars left by a decade of cutbacks.
According to ABC International, dozens of staff members had gathered specifically to protest the state of public health services during Mitsotakis’s visit. Their grievances echoed those heard in hospitals across the country: not enough hands on deck, salaries that have remained frozen, and a sense that the sacrifices made during the hardest days of the pandemic have gone unrecognized.
The deployment of riot police to manage what began as a peaceful protest only heightened tensions. Images of doctors in white coats facing off against officers in full riot gear quickly spread across Greek media, fueling a broader public debate about the government’s approach to dissent and the treatment of essential workers. For many Greeks, the sight was jarring—a vivid reminder of the gap between political promises and the day-to-day struggles inside public hospitals.
Despite the turmoil, the new oncology department remains a beacon of hope. Funded by a charitable organization, the ward is expected to significantly expand the hospital’s capacity to care for cancer patients, a much-needed development given the rising demand for oncology services. The Prime Minister’s office touted the expansion as a sign of progress, emphasizing the increase in patients served and the investment in modernizing facilities.
Still, the core issues at the heart of the protest remain unresolved. Overcrowding, staff shortages, and wage stagnation continue to plague Attikon and other public hospitals. The urgent call for at least 125 more nurses, as highlighted by Sideris and reported by AP and Morning Star, is just one example of the systemic challenges that persist. The government’s pledge to further restructure and invest in the National Health System has been met with cautious optimism from some quarters, but skepticism lingers among those on the front lines.
As the dust settles on the scuffles at Attikon, the events of October 15 have left an indelible mark on Greece’s ongoing conversation about public health. The confrontation between riot police and medical staff was more than a momentary clash; it was a stark symbol of the tensions, frustrations, and hopes that define the country’s struggle to rebuild its healthcare system. Whether the government’s promises will translate into meaningful change remains to be seen, but one thing is certain: the voices of Greece’s doctors and nurses are growing louder, and their demands for dignity, safety, and respect can no longer be ignored.