With the recent shenanigans behind it, the parliamentary bandwagon will, once again, be ponderously on the move. We have yet to see whether or not it will gather pace in view of the difficult terrain it has to cross.
The government has a one-seat majority, but it is holding a sticky wicket as it passes through increasing turbulence. The Opposition smells blood and its hounds are showing signs of restlessness.
The Gonzi administration is busily taking stock of the situation and frantically trying to comply with EU-oriented budgetary restrictions. The financial constraints arising from an unsustainable deficit, which has been steadily building up for many years, are severe.
When last in office, the Labour Opposition claimed that it had inherited financial ‘holes’, which handicapped its performance. The Fenech Adami government that succeeded it has had its burdens, many of them of its own making. The legacy of those times has passed on to Dr Lawrence Gonzi. It is not, strictly speaking, an inheritance – because Gonzi was co-responsible with Dr Fenech Adami for all that has been passed on to the present Gonzi administration.
However daunting and however pressing, the problem of the structural deficit is not the only hot potato on the nation’s plate. Government and Parliament have to find ways and means to shore up our economic defences in the common interest of survival. Consensus on the bigger, overriding issues seems to be of the essence. Meanwhile, life must go on. Ministers must administer their bailiwicks and attend to a hundred chores. In discussions on government, the words ‘systems’ and ‘stress’ go together, affecting both parties in Parliament in equal, different, measures.
There is a human facet to this, particularly when seen against the backdrop of a growing polarization of domestic politics, and especially so when, economically speaking, the going is not so good.
The burden on ministers is becoming almost intolerably heavy, not merely in meeting Cabinet responsibilities, but also in taking the growing number of decisions their departments and the electorate expect them to take personally.
Opposition frontbenchers have the responsibility of monitoring their opposite numbers – and the resources available to them, particularly on technical matters, are often inadequate. There are always meetings to go to, people to see.
A great deal of time is taken to react to breaking stories in the news. The degree to which the media drive policy is extraordinary and, at times, regrettable.
If one were to take 10 steps backwards to assess the workload of a Cabinet minister, the resultant impression is bound to be sobering enough.
Every minister must:
• Play a full part in Cabinet and in cabinet committees, not just on matters affecting his or her department, but also in shaping collective government policy.
• Head his subordinate departments and set the main policy agenda.
• Make key decisions on the operation and organisation of the subordinate departments.
• Defend policy and the subordinate departments in Parliament and before standing committees of the House
• Pilot and defend legislation in Parliament
• Play a public relations role in front of an often hostile media
• Deal with pressure groups, and the public in general, lobbying for or against change
• Play a part for his or her political party, delivering speeches and voting in Parliament.
• Play a full role in one’s constituency, and play a role as husband/wife/father/mother in what remains of private life.
Members of the Opposition’s front bench shadow their opposite numbers with the handicap of the relative inadequacy of the resources at their disposal.
Since Malta’s accession to the EU, Maltese politics took on a new dimension in that they had to take in their stride Malta’s many interests across the whole prism of European politics.
Without doubt, this is physically and mentally health sapping for all MPs who take their calling seriously.
Unless the workload is somehow dispersed, the problem of overload is bound to take its toll, and this all the more so when the bureaucracy has proved to be incapable of providing the necessary technical support in certain areas, and when MPs are part-time politicians.
It may be worth pointing out that the procedures of Parliament were designed and devised for a less busy age. There is an increasing number of bills nowadays which have to go through the parliamentary mincing machine, which are important and difficult in themselves, and take up a great deal of parliamentary time, involving technical expertise.
Although they are not necessarily concerned with matters of general policy or national interest, they have to do with the machinery of ordered society and need meticulous attention.
Such legislation does not pit one party against the other, nor one set of politicians scoring against the other. It is rather the case of successive governments facing routine problems affecting social organisation and being judged by their success or failure in the duel. In such cases, Parliament needs up-to-date charts and a reliable compass that would allow MPs on both sides of the House to navigate in the same boat.
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Politics as a profession is immensely risky and is more likely to appeal to people living on a diet of adrenaline and constantly trying to avoid boredom. Their needs include a yearning for adulation and approval, the urge to bolster self-esteem, the compulsion to view life from the prism of one’s prejudices, to avenge a personal slight, to redress a long-harboured grievance, to seek power over others.
Decent politicians manage to repress these instincts – but throughout history there have been a succession of scoundrels, in various countries, who took refuge in politics. They are the ones who foul the pitch and bring a perverse human element in the equation.
The human element in local politics is attracting the attention of a growing number of discerning electors who think more in terms of politicians than of party machinery, and more in terms of personal judgment than of rival party lines.
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