I was delighted to learn that during his inauguration ceremony the new Speaker of the House of Representatives, Dr Michael Frendo, expressed his wish there could be a keener sense of humour among our MPs. Many of us who believe in the power of wit and fun even in such sombre corridors and lobbies, immediately said cheers to that because we certainly need it.
How unfortunate, however, that what could have been merely an exciting baptism of fire for him – the debate on the now infamous BWSC contract with Enemalta – actually turned into a comedy of errors. Those cheers suddenly turned to tears, alas, as he completely mishandled the situation that followed after yet another lapsus tremor shook the country’s highest institution to its foundations.
For an opening understatement, I dare say there must be something wrong with the procedures in there. In this electronic age it is already a mystery why our parliamentarians should still be voting the way they do – verbally and in alphabetical order like a bunch of cloistered virgin nuns – when a simple push of a green or red button could do the trick without even provoking a eunuch’s little whimper.
Yes, it is agreed, there would still be the odd perplexed or disorientated MP to push the wrong button, but there could hardly be any doubt as to which button he pushed, rightly or wrongly. In that way one would avoid the razzmatazz that occurred in the House the previous week when the Clerk of the House was caught, well, with her pants down and, Mr Speaker, I’m afraid nobody was really laughing.
Dr Frendo’s biggest faux pas in the raging fracas that developed during that fateful sitting was to ignore previous precedents, and eventually having the gall to call for a new vote when the House was, anyway, only half full with yes men who, but for one, had earlier, albeit ironically, voted no in their obvious minority. He has declared publicly that he is not a “yes man”, but at that particular moment in time he must have perceived the double irony of his situation.
But our Parliament cannot really be so bereft of a sense of humour. We’ve all since heard the “voting tape” as well as its highly evocative electronic analysis. How can one explain the fact that when the monotonous roll call of names was underway not a single soul inside that chamber had uttered even a hint of a sound of delight or derision when Justyne Caruana, Labour’s little dynamite from Gozo, is supposed to have voted against her own party’s motion, and then – four long letters of the alphabet later – all hell broke loose when the government MP made his gaffe? Was it all a joke or a reflection of the truth of the matter, that there really had been only one indelible mistake committed?
Both sides of the House are not averse to grasping and rejoicing at every opportunity of dissent when it happens in the opposing ranks; the fact that this behaviour only took place well after Justyne’s vote tells the whole story. Sorry, the joke was on the democratic process, Mr Speaker.
The great Michael Foot, a friend of Malta in her hours of need and the politicians’ ideal politician, once quipped: “I had better recall before someone else does, that I said on one occasion that all was fair in love, war and parliamentary procedure.” He could not be any more vindicated by what happened in our House of Representatives in connection with the BWSC contract.
Even earlier in the history of the House of Commons, on which most of our Speakers have the temerity to model their actions and decisions, there is this little ditty that fits smoothly within the ridiculous frame holding the whole picture of the BWSC episode. It was created in 1963 with reference to John Profumo, Secretary of State for War at the time, who had lied to the House of Commons concerning his relationship with Christine Keeler:
“What have you done? cried Christine
“You’ve wrecked the whole party machine!
“To lie in the nude may be rude,
“But to lie in the House is obscene!”
Of course the best sense of humour is that of the person who can laugh at himself. After the BWSC circus, this should provide the new Speaker with enough amusement for the rest of the present legislature. Meanwhile, the rest of us can enjoy a degree of that same humour by subscribing to the parliamentary debates, keeping that wondrous spectacle of the previous week well and truly bookmarked.
On a more serious note, though, it is high time Parliament cleanses itself by getting rid of time-honoured procedures that no longer make any sense. Mimicking the so-called “Mother of Parliaments” by the absurd use of catchphrases, orders and counter orders in English is as pathetic as the retention on the part of our army officers of the old parade language left by the British.
I would even consider doing away with the very term “Mr Speaker” and opting for its replacement with “the president of the House”, as some of our MPs have already done sporadically in the past, at committee stage or not. You do not become “Mr Speaker” in the mould of the UK’s House of Commons simply by being called such, and assuming the title as some sort of Maltese equivalent. Only your actions and your decisions, together with a righteous approach to crises and moments of tension, can prove whether you deserve or not to claim even a hint of similarity in status and recognition to be bestowed upon you.
To be fair, the Maltese Parliament has, over the many decades since the hard-won achievement of self-government, had many a true “Mr Speaker” in the traditional sense of the position. We have seen some loyal party men and women transformed into good and effective presidents of the House, eventually winning the respect of both contending sides within it.
Michael Frendo may have already botched it, but there is still time for him to recuperate lost ground. The BWSC fracas perhaps came too soon for him. However, he has no right to change procedures when they threaten to put the party that appointed him with its back to the wall. Such tactics of convenience can only harm his assumed role based completely on non-partisanship.
If he cannot accept or fathom this, then we need more than a sense of humour.