Whenever a gathering of more than a hundred people who vote Labour takes places, the cameras inevitably try and zoom in on those who fit into the usual working class stereotype. So we get close-ups of rather shabby clothes which are worn too tight, on figures which have too many bulges. The people chosen for comment are too loud, and their gestures are too over-the-top. The hair is too brassy blonde, there are too many gold bangles and ideally, there should be a few missing teeth.

The message comes across loud and clear through our TV screens: this is the ‘face’ of Labour, do you want to be associated with it?

It’s all very subliminal and it works. I know it works on me, because I shudder and think “no, those are not my kind of people”. It’s an instinctive reaction, which I am slightly ashamed of, because on a rational level (apart from the fact that there are many Labour voters who are not like that), I know that it is not their fault. They have grown up in a different sub-culture to mine, with less educational, economic and cultural opportunities. After all, we are who we are not necessarily because of the family we are born into, but because of the choices we make. We can either decide to widen our horizons and grow, or we can take the easy route, sit back and remain insular and safe within the world we know, even though this world limits us severely. Of course, those who do not know any better will not realise that they are limiting themselves, and can lead a perfectly happy and contented life as they are. To use a cliché: ignorance is bliss.

Ah, but there is ignorance, and then there is real ignorance.

Swinging to the other extreme of the spectrum, there are the insufferable, narrow-minded snobs whom I cannot abide either. Defined by the labels they wear, they have no real identity because they are too superficial to think that deeply. It is all about appearances, whether it is their choice of handbag, their shoes, the school to which they send their children, or the “right” address. I wouldn’t be surprised if the choice of husband/wife is even screened using the same process, preferably with samples of DNA analysed for good measure. It is an artificial world where everyone speaks the same, looks the same, thinks the same, and – you guessed it – votes the same.

So as I step back from the kind of people described above, I often ask myself what “my kind” of people really are. Am I drifting in a no-man’s-land where I don’t feel like I belong with either one type or the other?

Luckily, over the years, I have found my niche. The people I choose to be with are real enough to show true emotion, and know how to have a good time, and yet have enough self-control and intelligence to behave appropriately in any given situation. They also don’t look down on others because of some perceived superiority because they are humane enough to make allowances for those who were not given the same opportunities in life.

I’m talking about all this because in Malta, politics always seems to come down to the same issue: social class. By portraying Labour supporters as some kind of Neanderthal underclass, the Nationalist Party has always managed to secure the vote of the middle class using psychological manipulation that plays upon people’s insecurities. Everyone is very conscious of their core identity, and those who wish to be upwardly mobile have, in the past, shunned the Labour Party because of the negative connotations - perpetuated by footage such as we saw this week.

But these days it’s no longer so clear cut. I firmly believe that there is a substantial slice of middle class voters who feel like I do. They do not feel comfortable with either of the two extremes and feel strongly about wishing to be represented by a political party that is real. We don’t want brands or labels to govern our lives; we want substance. We don’t believe we need to impress anyone by creating outrageously expensive hype which then fizzles down to nothing when the chips are down. Mater Dei Hospital comes to mind – who cares about state-of-the art when the hospital infrastructure is clearly not coping when it comes to the crunch?

We don’t want fancy slogans by the Labour Party, which has now metamorphosised into a movement (whatever that means). It’s all too fuzzy and flimsy for me; like candy floss which promises so much when you look at it but melts into nothing in your mouth. All you’re left with is a sugar high, which is followed by a vague feeling of depression.

Classy

Meanwhile, the PN continues to rely on the spin of an outdated myth – that it should be the natural party of choice for those who aspire to be “somebody” (as opposed to those tacky Laburisti who shout and yell during a protest march). After all these decades, they are still using the class issue to rope in voters.

But just like people who believe that they have class because they are wearing head to toe Gucci, they’ve got it all wrong. I’ve never heard anyone with real class talking about price tags, or name-dropping about what brands they buy or sneering because others cannot afford them. On the contrary, they would die of embarrassment rather than do something so vulgar. By definition, if you are bragging about these things, you have just revealed your true nature, and have unwittingly disqualified yourself from the social class you so aspire to. I can’t help but compare this attitude to the pathetically grateful eagerness because Piano is designing Parliament. Yes, he’s a world-famous architect, but calm down, will you? Pull yourself together, have some self-respect and stop all this fawning.

There are varying degrees of what constitutes a social climber, but in almost every single case I’ve come across they have one thing in common: they are so ashamed of their past that they scramble frenetically to wipe out all traces of where they have come from.

I’ve seen this in people with working class parents who shun their own family because they wish to be perceived as something ‘better’. Of course, this has also translated into a switch in their voting preferences. Although there are many Labour voters who switched to PN out of true conviction, there are also a considerable number who did so because of all the myriad negative connotations that the Nationalist Party is so adept at whipping up at every election.

This is the challenge that the Labour Party really must come to grips with. It’s not just a matter of trying to wipe out its less than sophisticated past; it needs to give middle class voters something they can relate to. No uncouth, screaming protestors in dire need of a makeover, but no stupid pretensions (what in Maltese we call nejk) or Gucci-wearing wannabes either.

Voters want something real, and if we don’t find it, don’t blame us if we don’t vote.

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