“I must follow them. I am their leader” is the witty quote most often attributed to Andrew Bonar Law, British Conservative prime minister in the early twenties. It springs to mind as I try to grapple with all that is taking place in the Malta Labour Party camp as it seeks to gradually come round to appointing its new leader. For journalists, such an event, long and winding as it always is, can be a time for some personal fun and amusement, sometimes awkwardly so.

Way back in 1992 I joined the rest of the local press corps at the old Rialto Cinema hall in Cospicua to cover the election of a new Labour leader after Karmenu Mifsud Bonnici. The vibes could be felt all over the place. As I made my way in, I remember being summoned by an old friend of mine, a poet, who pleaded with me that since he could not be allowed in, to convey his best wishes to Lino Spiteri, then a contender for the leadership. “Of course,” I replied, hardly realising I was automatically forcing myself into a tight situation as looking for Lino among those hundreds of delegates, officials and journalists in an atmosphere of high tension was a much more difficult undertaking than I had bargained for. After all, I was only there to file the story away to a UK paper I used to string for at the time.

I did, however, manage to get to Lino and communicate our mutual friend’s good wishes. It was at that very instance, however, that someone took a picture of us – a picture that was later used ad nauseam every time someone in the anti-Labour media oddly wanted to take a dig at me in relation to Lino and/or Alfred Sant, the eventual winner of that year’s contest. In plainer, political language, the picture was naively used to project me as some sort of anti-someone or other, which I never was.

Come to think of it, it seems I am always getting caught in the wrong picture. Way back in the early 1970s, as a young reporter, I was covering a Nationalist Party independence day demonstration in Valletta when, in the rush of opposing forces, I honestly and truly got entangled in a streamer that was being carried at the head of the advancing crowd and which had then been torn up by a violent group of anti-PN protesters. Click. Before I could struggle out of the unhappy, rugby-like scrum, there was I in focus and later being depicted on front pages and in subsequent newspaper references to the incident as “one of the perpetrators” when I had been an innocent bystander, even angry at having been asked by my paper to cover the story when I was off and romantically needed elsewhere!

The current leadership contest too will not go overlooked it seems. The left-wing media understandably has a more difficult time. It needs to be seen that it is actually handling the issue with fairness for all candidates in the race; but those of us who militate within it are often singled out for particular attention, though I hasten to add that I have never pretended to be nor, by any stretch of the imagination, can I ever be some sort of kingmaker. It would be immodest of anyone in the media to actually believe he or she could ever be so. The political machine thankfully has enough of that fodder.

It is, however, still an issue you are confronted with wherever you go. Since the MLP vacancy came up, Labourites everywhere have been debating the pros and cons of each and every leadership contender and this will no doubt continue right up to decision day in June. People phone you with their ideas as to who the right person for the job is; others shower you with e-mails and SMSs on this king-and-I approach to the future of such a strong political party. I have also been buttonholed by waiters and guests at a recent family wedding, each with his or her own favourite horse and each expecting from me some kind of remark that would dramatically rekindle the issue. I guess that’s better than talking about the weather and who’s next to tie the knot.

It has been a funny experience. They first try to see who you really fancy for the post. When you refuse to be drawn into it, out comes their horse running. He or she is presented to you as the next messiah, the one we’ve all been patiently waiting for. I quickly remind them the Jews are still waiting for their own after thousands of years.

It is a kind of psychological warfare. You tell me what you think, and I tell you what I think. Give me George and I’ll give you Joseph. Give me Michael and I’ll give you Evarist. Give me Marie-Louise and I’ll give you the next one. It is a game of cards that has all the character of a Russian roulette, minus the solitary steel bullet.

The dialogue varies in style from the pseudo-intellectual to the utterly primitive. The former brings with it a

pre-prepared analysis of each and every contestant. You are asked to name the individual strengths and weaknesses, as if what I think and say could possibly and remotely have an impact on the proceedings when they do get under way.

I find it utterly primitive, in fact, somewhat more entertaining. It is based on attitudes and assertions. No, if he or she ever gets the post, I won’t vote ever again in an election. Is one expected to reply in kind if he or she finds that his or her horse has not made it to the MLP leadership? And so it goes, an emotional exchange of personal sentiments and emotions among people who are, after all, genuinely interested in who is to lead their party in the next general election, whenever that takes place.

I have defended myself from the onslaught by firing wisecracks and quips meant to disarm the persistent ones. Like: don’t ever follow any leader until you know whom he is following; or that a truly great leader is one who never allows his followers to discover that he is as ignorant as they are.

Then I turn philosophical – a leader is anyone who has two characteristics: first, he is going somewhere; second, he is able to persuade other people to go with him. A good leader inspires men and women to have confidence in him; a great leader inspires them to have confidence in themselves.

I dare say that good leaders anywhere on this island are so scarce that many people are just following themselves. In truth, Labour is fortunate that in defeat, it still finds itself somewhat spoilt for choice. Certainly a far cry from the foregone conclusion that the Nationalists were faced with when the Gonzi vs Dalli leadership showdown came up a few years back, though I had friends of mine from that side of the political fence who had vowed they would not go out to vote if their horse, who happened to be Dalli, did not win. The tail end to that contest was the long-drawn Dalli saga that persisted for many months within the PN until his rehabilitation after this election. You see, he is in a much stronger position today.

Whatever happens at Hamrun on 5 June however, I am determined that I will not get caught in another

picture.