When she started her blog was born, Deafnie Caruana Galizia was incisive, gutsy and eloquent and much admired. A ranting, hostile drama queen today, it is a pity that hate campaigns consume her and her prejudiced contributions have become nothing but patronising lectures targeting the politically unenlightened. Sadder still is the effect on her bleating acolytes ‘Yes, Daphne. You’re so smart, Daphne. We’re so superior, Daphne.’ The written word has never been so predictable or so cheap.

In essence, it is the evolvement of scandal mongering. In days gone by we had spying behind shutters, sniggering around street hawkers’ trucks and now we have Daphne’s blog, negativism, schism and contempt. Daphne preaches: “Democracy is when people choose their government, choose their prime minister, in free elections held every five years, and their choice is respected.” Respected? Hilarious!

We know that Daphne is not a ‘hamalla’, that she is only imitating the truly uncouth, that it cannot be innate vulgarism. Whatever, strange how it becomes acceptable to the hypocritical flock. And her mocking criticism of the way certain Maltese speak English is so funny; probably as amusing as her own pronunciation of Maltese. What a shame that she didn’t use her wit in recent years to wage a blog-war against the appalling general level of spoken and written English, far from restricted to a specific social or political stratum. Now that would have achieved something much more remarkable than juvenile humour.

Slandering, manipulating or hiding the truth, acting as judge, jury and executioner, disregarding the innocent caught in the line of personal hatred – it’s all there, wrapped tight in obscene arrogance. Are we so duped to admire warped minds? Are we so shallow not to be repulsed by hate-bloggers, wise in their own eyes with more hope for fools than for them?

Are we charitable only with those we can patronise since they know their inferior place? Are we relieved to watch others being ridiculed not us, our loved ones or our beliefs?

Indeed, a blogger who projects himself as one who calls a spade a spade (or a bloody shovel) remains but a coarse and contemptible blogger. As Oscar Wilde put it, “The man who calls a spade a spade should be compelled to use one because it is the only thing he is fit for.” The fields of Bidnija are calling desperately.

A. Borg

Birkirkara