The fumes from the bonfire lit by Franco Debono still hang in the air. And, in a way, it is right that they should for there are vital principles underpinning that conflagration: and they all boil down to a long-standing need for a new way of making politics.  

How much space does a Member of Parliament have to put forward his ideas? Crucially, how much space is there for disagreement within party structures and outside? Is the phrase ‘party discipline’ just a euphemism for the tyranny of the party executive? Have so-called internal debates taken over that role from a Parliament that is only expected to rubber stamp the Executive’s decisions? If that is the case, do we need a Parliament at all much less such an ungainly one? Should democracy be limited to free and fair elections every five years and then promptly fenced in once the winner is announced?

I must admit to having some sympathy for those Nationalist MPs who are now daring to air their grievances. Everybody knows the political school I graduated from in my early youth and in whose interests I militated for many years in a very hostile environment. Less known, and wrongly interpreted, are the details of my – at times – tempestuous relations with that political family. The questions that Franco Debono, together with others, is asking now, I asked many years ago. That no journalist bothers to thoroughly research the past and so discover the deep roots of the present malaise is an indictment of investigative journalism in Malta.

After the election of 1981, the elected PN deputies decided not to take their seat in Parliament. An uneasy hiatus followed. Eddie Fenech Adami, then leader of the party, admitted that a stalemate had been reached and was looking for a way to reopen negotiations – niżblokkaw was the word he used.

That is exactly what I tried to do all those years ago, but in so doing trod on the toes of some of the grandees (as Tory bosses are called in the UK) of the party. The opportunity I created was snatched from me and passed on to others who were unable to bring it to a more satisfactory conclusion than the one eventually reached. That moment merits remembering in view of what is being said now.

I had proposed that the President would be chosen either by a two-third majority of Parliament or by a nation-wide election. He was to oversee the appointment of the various commissions and bodies that have since proliferated. He was to be assisted by a Council of State made up of elder statesmen, ex-Chief Justices and citizens known for their integrity.

Because I refused to give in to MLP blackmail, and because I saw in the situation a chance to redress imbalances both in the Constitution and in governance, I was labelled not as a defender of what was right and necessary but as one who was denying the party a chance to regain power. It was a hard and bitter lesson for me. I had put my political career on the line at a time of national crisis and soon after that line broke. I don’t believe that the PN has ever recovered from the time when it sold its soul for political gain.

And so, 25 years later, I again decided to alert the public to what – as Franco Debono put it – urgently needed fixing. That the established parties and a tribal electorate chose not to debate the proposals that were presented is an omission for which the country is now paying the price.

My last foray into politics proposed documented alternatives to the present system. I again suggested that the President should be chosen by the citizen and given certain additional powers that would govern the appointments to the many authorities, foundations, commissions, corporations and what have you. I suggested a smaller Parliament and a smaller Cabinet, a Council of State, rules on party financing, transparency in the allotting of tenders, a revision of the electoral system to permit the election of some MPs on a national basis, full time Members of Parliament, a Freedom of Information Act and a Whistleblowers Act. I urged that promotions and appointments be based solely on merit. I also believed that the Constitution should be reviewed and those clauses that could only be changed by holding a referendum brought back. The 1964 Constitution contained much that was of benefit to the citizen before it was butchered and its entrenched clauses chopped out.

When I showed these proposals to a person I respected and who now enjoys a prominent position in the political sphere, he could only say kieku tajjeb hekk. Maybe he still remembers our discussion, and maybe he still believes that it would be a good thing for Malta to adopt at least some of those ideas.

That this “vision” failed to elicit any reaction from the established parties is not surprising. After all, the first rule in politics is not to give your opponents free advertising, even if we were a small political grouping. I am not surprised either, that those who now are very vociferous in promoting what had originally been presented so many years ago tended to keep their distance. Their desire to bring about change was not, at that time, apparently strong enough for them to risk their political future. I must admit though that I was surprised and disappointed that those analysts that pose as independent commentators did not bother to launch a debate on the reforms we had suggested. That they are doing it now strikes me as being more of a utilitarian exercise, an easy way to fill print columns, rather than real concern for the political development of our islands.

Nevertheless, on the principle that late is better than never, it is good now to hear calls for Parliament to be strengthened, for rules of good governance to be followed, for the Constitution to be observed in full especially when it comes to certain appointments, for meritocracy to supplant nepotism and patronage, for transparency in the way decisions are reached. We have not had as yet serious proposals on the very necessary reform of the Civil Service, which should start by ensuring that there is truly a civil service in the first place, rather than the horde of ministerial appointments that we have now, from whom independent judgement is not expected and, I suspect, rarely given. 

We are on the verge of local council elections. I have had personal experience of how councils operate and it is not one I cherish. I had suggested a-political councils on a regional basis, for to have a council in every district of this small island is ludicrous. It is enough to take a look at the attributes of some of our mayors and councillors to realise that quality is low on the ground: it could not be otherwise in such a small island where even Prime Ministers have to do with what they are given.  This island is too small to have 68 local councils who are a mere extension of the party they represent in addition to an overloaded Parliament. I believe the time has come for Parliament to have its own Plimsoll line. But my suggestions to review the situation were once more simply brushed aside. Perhaps the scandals and infighting prevalent in a considerable number of local councils, together with a looming poor attendance at the coming elections will be proof that be that this is another initiative that needs to be redesigned.

I stated at the beginning of this article that Malta badly needs a new way of making politics, of governing. In The Histories, written in 450 BC, Herodotus tells us that in the Persian Empire, when anything had to be decided, they first debated the question when they were drunk. Then they considered it again when they were sober. If the conclusion remained the same it was adopted; otherwise it was abandoned.

I am not calling for the adoption of this method, although in truth, some of the decisions reached by governments in this country almost suggest that the above methodology has been tried in part: we tend to do things only in part in this country anyway. We are living however at a time when civil society has come of age, when a young generation is slowly but surely throwing off the tribal political shackles they inherited, and with the help of the electronic media are giving vent to their own political aspirations.

Governments’ legitimacy rests on the support of the people. Only an operative consensus enables the effective implication of policies. Citizens’ genuine support for government programmes and reforms is a prerequisite for their success. Ramming unpopular policies down the throats of the population is not an alternative to democracy. Active and informed citizens provide valuable input to the process of governance, helping to improve the quality and effectiveness of public service delivery. In short, governance is only good and democratic if citizens are able to form considered opinions within an open public sphere.

In turn, an open and democratic public sphere rests on legally guaranteed civil rights, most importantly freedom of expression, opinion and assembly, as well as access to information laws. The latter is still missing but the rest we enjoy to an extent that is less than the optimum. However, such laws will only be effective in a culture of openness. That means that public officials should feel committed to the public’s right to know, not the government’s right to secrecy. 

This nation claims to believe in a government of the people, by the people, for the people. That should include our representatives in and out of Parliament. If they opt out they risk becoming irrelevant. Perhaps they are already, for as opinion polls show, politicians have forfeited much of the respect they once enjoyed. And if we look at the countries around us, we can clearly see the consequences of political irrelevance.

Yes, change never comes easy especially when change is perceived as a threat. But after a delay of a quarter of a century from when the writing first appeared on the wall, our political class has only itself to blame.