A stir is born

When, in the mid-1990s, AX Holdings applied for a permit to build a golf course beneath the Verdala Place Hotel in Rabat, few could really have predicted the far-reaching consequences for Malta’s traditionally complacent civil society.

Among the few was the late Julian Manduca, who campaigned tirelessly against the proposal with his NGO, Friends of the Earth (Malta). But, faced with what appeared to be the full mobilization of Malta’s political and commercial muscle-power, even Julian was secretly resigned to the loss of what was once described as “a swathe of arable land the size of Sliema.”

Looking back, the Verdala golf course seemed at the time to be an unstoppable project. Apart from enjoying the tacit support of the entire tourism sector, including the Malta Hotels and Restaurants Association (MHRA), AX Holdings was also aided by an automatic public relations edge long enjoyed by the game of golf: not just in the form of its undeniably attractive topographical features (undulating fairways, lush greens, artificial lakes, sand bunkers, etc.), but also a wealth of iconic cultural references that have made of “the noble sport” arguably the most glamorous outdoor activity after the Cannes film festival – anything from Tiger Woods’ unforgettable Nike commercials, to Rene Russo teeing off in Tin Cup, to Sean Connery’s classic golf encounter with Gert Frobe in Goldfinger.

Besides, with Fondazzjoni Wirt Artna and the Farmers’ Wine Co-operative Society firmly behind the project, it seemed that AX Holdings director Mr Anglu Xuereb had also secured the support of both environmentalists and the agricultural sector. But then, as later developments would illustrate, neither Mr Xuereb nor the rest of Malta’s powerful entrepreneurial class had really reckoned on the full extent of environmental and social opposition to the game of golf.

Coalition of the unwilling

Before long, the previously isolated environmentalist groups opposing the project were joined by the Progressive Farmers’ Union, representing the interests of the area’s 92 resident farmers, as well as by numerous other factions, pressure groups and individual activists. The result was the “Front Kontra l-Golf Kors”, which succeeded in uniting no fewer than 13 different organisations under a single banner – at the time, an unprecedented display of environmental and social solidarity among Malta’s diverse (and often warring) NGOs.

The game of golf, it seemed, had succeeded where countless other environmental controversies had failed; i.e., it divided the nation along a new and almost entirely non-political fault-line, in which the basic issues were land-use policy, water supply, historical and environmental heritage, the defence of agriculture, the right of access to public land… in a word, all of Malta’s resources taken together.

In September 2004, the Verdala golf course application was finally (and, it must be said, unexpectedly) turned down by Mepa’s Board of Appeal. Citing numerous environmental and legal reasons – including a 1991 Church-state agreement, as well as the fact that the proposed development lay outside the Malta Structure Plan – Mepa’s landmark ruling was met with ecstatic triumph by local environmentalists, but also sent shockwaves through the island’s leisure and development sectors, both of which were evidently more accustomed to always getting their own way.

In this respect, the Verdala golf course affair served a twofold purpose which would radically alter the eco-political balance of power. On the one hand, it delineated the actual limits of the construction industry’s previously unchallenged strength; on the other, it illustrated the principle that combined pressure could actually influence the country’s decision-making processes at the highest level, and derail even the mightiest of mega-projects.

From Verdala to Manikata

But the so-called “Gwerra tal-Golf” was far from over. Even before Mepa’s decision, the Prime Minister himself had muscled into the fray, declaring his government’s intention to build, not one, but two golf courses, one in Malta and the other in Gozo, in an interview with RTK radio.

Soon after the demise of the AX Holdings proposal, golf was once again back on the agenda; and this time, however, the game was being championed not by a single developer, nor even by the MHRA, but by the government itself. Surely, then, the success of the Front Kontra l-Golf Kors could not be repeated, now that the Prime Minister himself had entered the lists.

Or could it? Two years later, as Malta’s beleaguered tourism industry once again makes the headlines, the as yet unresolved issue of golf in Malta continues to be precisely that: unresolved.

From a vantage point above Manikata valley, local farmer Joe Sciberras gesticulates wildy as he reiterates the basic arguments against the proposed golf course on the Xaghra l-Hamra – which, to be honest, haven’t changed much since the battlefield shifted from Verdala to the plains of Ghajn Tuffieha.

“Anyone can see that this is not a good area for a golf course,” he says, enumerating the many environmental and cultural attractions the Xaghra has to offer: cart ruts, giren, wild thyme, orchids, bees, garigue, the aquifer, wind, sun, sea-spray… not to mention the earth his family has tilled for generations.

But apart from the birds and the bees, there is also consideration of public access to land. “When our leases were terminated, we were told it was because of a public project,” recalls Mr Sciberras.

“But how can a golf course be a public project? How can people play golf, with families having picnics all over the place? They would have to enclose the entire area with a wire fence. That’s how ‘public’ the project will be.”

Enter the Global Anti-Golf Movement

Although he might not know it, Mr Sciberras’ misgivings have been echoed as far away as Indonesia, Malaysia, Myanmar and the Philippines, all of which have experienced the same golf boom that Malta’s environmentalists have been trying to stave off for over a decade.

As in Malta, Asia’s anti-golf lobby started out with basic environmental concerns, but gained strength largely as a result of popular opposition by agrarian communities. Their chief spokesman is Mr Gen Morita, a Japanese organic farmer who founded the Global Anti-Golf Movement (GAGM) in 1993, after discovering that his crops had been contaminated by chemicals from a nearby golf course.

Many of Morita’s arguments are identical to those used by the Front Kontra l-Golf Kors in Verdala. Developing a golf course, he argues, entails the clearing of vegetation, deforestation (or in our case, the loss of natural garigue) and creating artificial landscapes, all of which lead to land erosion and block the soil’s ability to retain water.

Golf courses need 3,000 cubic meters of water per day, enough to meet the needs of 15,000 people. They also need large quantities of pesticides, fertilizers and herbicides, which the Global Anti-Golf Movement say have caused health problems among golfers, workers and nearby residents alike.

But the bulk of Morita’s support comes from farmers who – much like Joe Sciberras and his colleagues at Manikata – face eviction as a result of their governments’ unhealthy obsession with golf.

The country with arguably the worst golf abuse history is the Myanmar Republic (formerly Burma), where entire villages are believed to have been cleared of residents to make way for state-of-the-art courses, often as not designed by world-renowned companies such as Nicklaus Design.

Meanwhile, a similar experience all-but precipitated parts of Indonesia into open revolution during the economic crisis of the late 1990s: particularly in Cimacan, Western Java, where some 280 peasants had been displaced by the development of a golf course in 1991.

Less than a decade later, the same peasants caused panic among golfers as they stormed the course brandishing spades and hoes. Writing in The Far Eastern Economic Review, John McBeth described the scene as follows: “But the farmers didn’t have violence on their minds. Instead, watched at a distance by police and security guards, all they did was spend four hours digging slogans into the manicured fairways, using the turned-over sod to border their handiwork. Alongside the words Tanak rakyat (‘People’s land’), Kami ambil hak kami (‘We take what is ours’) and Reformasi (‘Reform’), the farmers also planted two grown carrots, to underscore their point that this was agricultural land.”

Admittedly, Malta has never seen mass eviction on the scale of the Myanmar and Indonesia excesses. But, although quietly optimistic that the Xaghra l-Hamra golf course will never see the light of day, Joe Sciberras, along with 30 others like him, still labours under a sword of Damocles in the form of government’s reluctance to formally withdraw its proposal for a golf course in Manikata.

“Personally, I think the government has realised that it would be crazy to press ahead with the golf course proposal,” he says. “The issue has died down for now, and I think they are trying to find a quiet way out of the whole thing. But if this is true, my only question is, why haven’t our leases been renewed?”

Why not, indeed.

GOLF Quotes

“Golf is so popular simply because it is the best game in the world at which to be bad.”

A.A. Milne

“I want a golf course in Malta. I want a golf course in Gozo.”

Lawrence Gonzi

“I’m a one-eyed Jewish negro.”

Sammy Davis Junior (asked about his golf handicap)

“Not even Tiger Woods can hit a ball here”

George Pullicino

(referring to Labour’s proposals for a golf course at Maghtab)

“Golf is like an 18-year-old girl with big boobs. You know it’s wrong but you can’t keep away from her.”

Val Doonican

“If you drink, don’t drive. Don’t even putt.”

Dean Martin

“That was a great game of golf, fellahs”

Bing Crosby

(last words)