Whatever one thinks of him, “Dom Mintoff” is still a rallying cry for opponents as much as for supporters. Like others before him and since, in every nation, the real Dom Mintoff is simply one of those ordinary yet unique human beings which historical forces throw up from time to time, often unexpectedly. Their time in office, in government or in opposition, is a time of personal and national catharsis.

I live in Australia, and cannot comment at all on the docudrama of Dear Dom because I have not seen it. But the twists and turns of this debate are fascinating, so I offer here some highly discursive remarks arising from the (pseudo?) controversy Pierre Ellul’s film has generated.

In simplistic terms, Dom Mintoff is to Maltese politics what Gough Whitlam is to Australian politics. One cannot but love or hate them, such was their towering impact, both for better and for worse. Whichever way we may intend it to be understood, one may well say of each one of these leaders what Ludovico Ariosto wrote in Orlando Furioso: “Natura il fece, e poi rope la stampa” (Nature made him and then broke the mould). Of course, some of us may indeed have preferred the mould to be destroyed before Mintoff was even born, perhaps, but that is another story altogether. Dominantly effective leaders, good or bad, create both havoc and opportunity, but, often against strong opposition, they always bring and continue to grow an overarching strategic vision that demands a response. What kind of response is naturally purely a matter for individual personal choice. The irritating rub, however, is that you cannot just ignore them or their vision.

At the very least, Ellul must feel more than a little pleased that his efforts have not gone unnoticed. As the saying goes, bad publicity is just as priceless as good publicity, and many a film gathers momentum (with both appreciation and notoriety) precisely because it becomes a talking point. Reading, viewing, and listening to the commentariat, and the relentless comments on such commentaries (in both languages), inevitably elicit a myriad of conflicting feelings and thoughts: revulsion, puzzlement, laughter, anger, disappointment, hope, and on and on.

On many issues, especially in politics, robust debate, whether in assent or in dissent, is crucially necessary in public discourse. It is often the case that it is in such a complex controversy, with its fulsome barrage of opinions and verbiage, that a valuable insight emerges, or an illuminating personal recollection is brought to light. After all, attack and defence are, in a very real sense, two sides of the same coin. For example, in many an instance one cannot be entirely sure whether the writer or speaker is praising or attacking Dear Dom, Dom Mintoff himself or, dare I say it, some imagined mysterious hybrid of the two. Regrettably, hostilities sometimes become too shrill and personal, especially when discussion stoops to insulting innocent family members and faithful friends of the chief protagonists.

What strikes an observer a long distance away, strangely enough, is the sheer partisanship of many who have participated in this new controversy, a phenomenon which lingeringly mirrors the circumstances of the actual events supposedly recalled in Dear Dom. There is still division now in much the same way that there was intense division then among the voters and the people in general, even in the same family. More significantly, however, such division appears to degenerate into more division, and more yet again, so that in the end it is division itself which becomes paramount, rather than the real substantive causes of division in the first place. It is almost as if the old religious and locational tribalism of the Maltese people is allowed to override ordinary political rivalries to a disturbing degree, splintering social cohesion and cultural unity.

Strangely, but not inappropriately, given the convoluted depths of the human mind, this aspect of the Dear Dom responses brings to mind two points of tortuously amusing if bizarre interest, however unrelated they may seem.

One is the way that certain sellers in many a Moorish bazaar, or an Arab suq, used to haggle even against themselves just to add drama to a retail transaction, and perhaps to confuse the unsuspecting consumer. The other is the manner in which the large Maltese community in Australia, and elsewhere for that matter, (in fact, “communities” may be more accurate), appear to have happily fragmented themselves into so many different and conflictingly competing associations as to impede, if not actually prevent, proper and fully effective representation at the national level. Divide and rule, as we all know, was a favoured tactic in colonial times, but it is needlessly dangerous and fruitless when applied to oneself by choice.

But back to the actual Dear Dom controversy and Dominic himself. It is my view that Pierre Ellul’s film, precisely because it is film, can be evaluated only in terms of what he has put in and what he has left out. In such docudramas, the principle of evidential complementarity is crucial for a balanced objective outcome, if only because balance is vital in communicating truth.

Mintoff is still alive. This makes it very difficult to arrive at a reasoned assessment of his place in history. (The same applies to Gough Whitlam in Australia.) Commentators can express an opinion, but they cannot determine a proper final judgement. What is quite indisputable, however, is that only a historian of good professional repute can undertake the long and arduous task of examining all the available evidence, public and private, primary and secondary, to arrive at a fair and justifiable conclusion. Such a conclusion, however informed by the advantages of hindsight, must in the end be determined very predominantly by the actual cauldron of contexts in which any important leader has had to govern and operate.

Machiavellian machinations may be a good topic for a wise historian to keep in mind, but they certainly have no defining role in historiography itself. All good historians seek objectivity or, at the very least, they do disclose their personal bias, either as a starting point or by way of judicious comment as necessary. Mintoff, just like Archbishop Michael Gonzi and one or two others who played genuinely crucial roles at the same time, badly needs a full-scale biographical study. That is, not a Freudian or related psychological biography, not even an intellectual biography, but an authentic historical biography fully focused on real events and real constraints, plus genuine perceptions and understandings.

So I look forward to disciplined writers like Dominic Fenech, Henry Frendo, Joseph Pirotta (I list them alphabetically), or someone else of similar stature, to put us out of our misery by spending a few years working on a good comprehensive biography of the real man of Dear Dom, hero or villain or something in between. Only then will we finally be able to move on to a preoccupation with another hero or antihero. I make no judgement either way until we know what all others think. As St Augustine advised so wisely so long ago: Audi alterum partem (Hear the other side too).

Mr Zarb is an independent writer based in the Blue Mountains of New South Wales, Australia