Is democratic life shrinking on this island? Is the space for protest almost invisibly growing narrower? As we go through our daily grind in streets teeming with busy people, with bars and dining outlets solidly booked out, are we at all conscious of the many restrictions that are in place? Take writing for example. It has become a way of life to label anyone challenging, or even merely questioning, government policy as being anti-PN; the same applies if you disagree with the Opposition’s stands but then the Opposition is a weaker target for it does not rule. It is even more difficult to try and reason with a party affiliate over the way things are done without your words being interpreted as almost constituting a personal insult. The party and the individual member or supporter has become one monster with two heads.

A nation in a glass house

In a small nation like ours where everyone knows one another, this is an unhealthy development, since fear of personal repercussions seems to override the love of country. And in a nation where the black market is professionally practised, where we pride ourselves on passing laws without enforcing them, where the accumulation of wealth has become the prime object of life, where bribery has become socially acceptable, where institutions have lost whatever respect they once had, that fear becomes even more acute. It zips mouths and blindfolds creative eyes. We are a country becoming ever more dependent on government for permits, for work, for favours, for professional advancement. We all seem to have taken to living in glass houses which makes it easy for authority to frighten us into submission.

The political stranglehold

This situation is exacerbated by a media which seems to thrive on government handouts in the form of advertisements (paid for out of peoples taxes) and privileged information and owned and led by people who themselves alternate as the victim and the perpetrator. The local media is a strong contributor and sustainer of the tribal ethos which divides us into them and us. It is also a victim of this syndrome, for no reporter dares stray too much into that realm called investigative journalism which is almost foreign to Malta. Valid, professional, studied debates about national subjects that affect us locally and globally are as rare as hens teeth.

We are a small nation with no resources and physically isolated from the mainland, a fact which no communications revolution can erase from our mindset. Yet we have managed to survive and, materially at least, have done well enough so far. It is only when we look at the success that compatriots of ours have achieved in other lands that we realise how much we are hamstringing ourselves. In countries free from the grim determination to block every possible avenue of criticism, where success is not based solely on political loyalty, where people are free to create and push ahead, the Maltese have done very well indeed. Why cannot this success be replicated in a land that could become so amazingly beautiful and successful if the grip of the few is relaxed in favour of creative ideas that could turn this rock into a mini-paradise?

Can we afford to carry on throwing away millions on abortive projects or on the celebration of images intended to enhance the political status of those who need enlarging mirrors to make a mark on history? Should we perpetuate the myth of a nation of grumblers, moaners, fraudsters and blasphemers who rise as one, or almost as one, in defence of the very symbols we offend on a daily basis?

Trust our native intelligence

I profoundly believe that if our native intelligence is allowed fertile ground in which to thrive, ground free of political irrigation, we can yet show that we are a nation capable of taking on the modern world on its own terms. Malta is like a coiled spring. Since invention is curtailed and limited, since the physical boundaries are restrictive, because we have always been a society controlled by State and Church, there is enough accumulated tension to uncoil and reach the sky if we are allowed to give rein to our dampened abilities. I believe that if we could change our political culture and finally realise that we not only can but must find our place in the ferociously competitive global economy, then we might finally become a nation that could shake off its inherent inferiority complex and emerge proud of its achievements.

Dr Josie Muscat is Leader Azzjoni Nazzjonali