The following is a translation of the commemorative address made

by Professor Joe Friggieri on the occasion of this year’s 8th September celebrations

We are gathered here this evening to commemorate two significant events in our country’s history – the siege of 1565, since referred to as the Great Siege, and another much closer to our own time, the siege of 1941-2. In the two sieges Malta emerged the victor against a much greater power. In both sieges Malta’s victory was of crucial importance for the rest of the world as well as for itself.

Had the Maltese not fought shoulder to shoulder with the Knights in 1565, the Order of St John would have suffered a great reversal. Malta’s end, meanwhile, would have been tantamount to a desolated territory, ravaged by war. As a result of the victory, the Knights maintained their presence here and built not only this splendid city with its majestic fortifications which today are being restored to their former glory, but also new towns, villas, gardens and palaces that together with the Neolithic Temples and the Hypogeum make up these islands’ principal historical heritage.

It was through the joint wisdom of the Knights and the skills of the Maltese craftsmen and workers working alongside that the majestic temple that stands behind us was built. St John’s Co-Cathedral, the cherished and worthy repository for wondrous and priceless works of art – among them the inlaid marble tombstones, the Preti ceiling, and the Caravaggio masterpieces – has itself donned once more the glorious attire it had when it was constructed. We would not have been able to experience or vaunt all this had our forefathers not given up their life for victory in the Siege of 1565. Indeed, any self-respecting historian will not be content with providing only a sequence of events or describing them in turn, but will rather bind them in cause-and-effect relations, casting them in the form of a chronicle by viewing what it was that led up to them as well as the consequences emerging from them.

Who better than Dun Karm, the national poet who for many a year worked here in Valletta in the National Library, to convey the heroism displayed by the Maltese in the Great Siege as well as the significance of victory for the rest of Europe when its destiny was in the balance? This comes through in the poem L-Għanja tar-Rebħa (The Song of Victory), in lines to match those of the great epic poets:

Yet in your language do I sing the song

I have formed for you in my heart,

writing it in the blood my mother gave me,

wishing, Malta, to do justice to your bravery.

For Maltese was the blood spilt warm

on your walls, the richest and most honourable ransom!

Maltese the heart, firm in a sea of woe,

till the splendid day of victory dawned.

Tell me, sun, in the year’s journeying

with which you measure the tale of humankind,

was ever a thing more splendid than our Saint Elmo,

or lions fiercer than the Maltese seen?

For there they saw shattered, in turn,

the bastions under constant fire,

but their strength did not fail, and the enemy

found them in wait on the foundations;

and the last among them who felt the murderous

blade piercing his heart blanched, and reeled,

cried out your name, Malta, and showed his slayer

St Michael standing on the other flank;

and still that hallowed cry echoes

each time the northeasterly-beaten sea

rolls like enemies in cruel droves

on great Saint Elmo’s sorely tried shores.

The air, full of fire, smoke and fears,

stared in amazement upon the valleys of blood;

a groan coursed through Europe; all monarchs

looked on thunderstruck, awaiting woe;

and the sun, as if wrapped in a shroud, rose and set many times,

and everyday found the struggle

keener than before, though the aggressor

grew confounded and confused.

And you knew, brave and tiny Malta,

that in that balance where events are weighed

there was in that one scale your children’s heart,

in the other the enemy’s horde and cruelty!

Yet never in your breast did the faith

in Almighty God’s friendship wane;

thus was it that no plaint, no suffering whimper

escaped your lips as you held on,

and under the eye, all wise and powerful,

of that Knight who never wasted time,

you displayed what the loves of your heart are worth,

displayed your strength of arm;

so that when the dawn of a blessed day

showed you the ravage-laden enemy

quickly spreading sail and departing your shores

on the wide expanse of a deep blue sea,

it was like a thunderclap from your heart

that the cry of victory emerged and heavenward ran your look,

while, the world over, from city to city,

the angel of victories lightly, like lightning, flew.

Our forefathers had the duty of defending Malta against the violence of those mounting the onslaught, for it is everyone’s duty to safeguard their homeland against the aggressor. But in “that balance where events are weighed” – in the poet’s memorable phrase – it was not a case of the bravery of the Maltese in one scale and the enemy’s mercilessness in the other. At stake there was the future of an entire continent, and thus “the air, full of fire, smoke and fears... stared in amazement upon the valleys of blood”, so that “a groan coursed through Europe; [while] all monarchs / looked on thunderstruck, awaiting woe”. Truly, the eyes of the world were cast upon us.

We can assert without fear of fallacy that our forefathers’ victory in the Great Siege, apart from having laid the foundations of our country’s modernity, radically changed the history of Europe, as it disrupted Ottoman plans to seize the Mediterranean as a base from which to attack the rest of the continent. Special honour in the wake of that victory is due to Grand Master La Valette, “the Knight who never wasted time”, who founded the city that bears his name and on whose watch the Maltese and the Knights found it within themselves to repel an army of almost 50,000 men. In that moment when the enemy was seen “quickly spreading sail” to leave these islands’ shores and head to the horizon, church bells were sounded in joy, cannon fire marked the end of the struggle, and from Maltese hearts arose “the cry of victory”, while “the world over, from city to city, the angel of victories lightly, like lightning, flew”.

Then, in the second siege, the Maltese battled with the same bravery and determination displayed in the first, and here too the significance of having prevailed is recognised by everyone. In the first months of 1942, the raids on Malta were unceasing. In April alone there were 275 airborne attacks, among them the one in which the Royal Opera House was reduced to rubble. Houses were razed, churches suffered strikes, thousands of people had to be evacuated and thousands had to sleep in underground shelters. Disease was widespread and military resources and food provisions were almost spent. Once again it fell to Dun Karm, the prime forger of the Maltese language, to be as factual as he was evocative in describing the experience of our people in those months, as he did in the poem Paċi u Gwerra [Peace and War]:

I looked afar ...

and saw churches fall

and houses razed, vessels torn

aslant on engulfing waves.

I saw a people shocked, bloodless of cheek,

fleeing its homes to take refuge

in pits kinder than men.

And I heard the whimpering of women,

the wailing of children, the moaning of the elderly and sick,

and from the dead sprawled on the ground

the corrupting smell of decay arose.

I shuddered and a chill set on my heart.

I would have wept; but tears, woe’s balm,

dropped not from my eyes;

instead from my heart a cry

formed in fierce rage leapt out.

Lost thus,

I looked upward to heaven

to see if there was aught in that height

to hint at consolation. A sullied cloud

mocked God’s created beauty,

and I beheld a black hand

write in fiery letters on that foul sky

the word ‘war’.

Peace and War is a longish poem from which I have read only a brief extract. Meanwhile, in the sonnet titled Qawsalla [Rainbow], penned “after four months of blitz”, the poet provides a much more concise description of the same experience, the difference being that the poem closes on a positive note, because the ferocity of the air raids had started to abate.

Four months, night and day, it’s been,

of the enemies’ ravenous machines above our heads;

their taunting drone approaching,

and thoughts of woe lord over all.

The bombs fall from a height, destroy, blow away

houses, fields and gardens; desolation spreads.

Even God’s churches, where souls crave heaven’s bounty,

have suffered havoc inside.

The women, speechless, babes in their arms,

turn to the heavens, wondering if mercy is forthcoming,

their hearts ravaged, their eyes full of tears.

Will their prayers be heard? Let it be, for God

will not have the good languish in the hands of the wicked...

and there was a rainbow to be seen in our skies.

Great as the suffering of our people was in the second siege, the strength of the resistance that finally led to victory was equal to it. It was in acknowledgment of the bravery shown by our forefathers in those harshest weeks and months of the war that Malta was awarded the George Cross – “To honour her brave people … to bear witness to a heroism and devotion that will long be famous in history.” We commemorated this award some months ago, just a few steps away from where we are today, on the 70th anniversary of that conferment – an event we shall continue to recall, together with what it was that led up to it, everywhere that the Maltese flag flutters.

Occasionally there will be those who for the sake of polemic rather than through sound argument to justify their views seek to diminish or recast some episode of our country’s history. But as Jawarlahal Nehru, the first prime minister of independent India, once said, “You don’t change the course of history by turning the faces of portraits to the wall.” We can only conjecture or imagine what might have occurred had Malta not triumphed in both sieges. Malta’s gains, as a result of being on the right side on both occasions, are a demonstrable matter of historical fact. It is possible that the choice of which side we should ally ourselves with was not entirely of our making, or that we did not make it on our own. What is certain is that we were fortunate to be on that side.

Less than 20 years after the end of the war, Malta acquired independence. Ten years later it became a republic and today forms part of the European Union, that grouping of free and democratic nations founded on the safeguarding of human rights, liberty, justice and equality. Once more, it is well to recall that all this would not have been possible without the sacrifices made by our forefathers to defend these rights against a fully committed and tremendously powerful military force intent on conquering all of Europe, Malta included.

Commemoration of the past should also prompt us to reflect on the present. Since the last war, like the rest of Europe Malta has enjoyed a period of peace during which the foundations and pillars of the prosperity we are familiar with were built. We who are placed in the centre of the Mediterranean cannot avoid reflecting, perhaps more so than other nations, that peace is not guaranteed, nor something that comes about unsummoned as if through some process in nature. There is still too much conflict and upheaval in the region we are living in to allow ourselves to fall victim to that illusion. Anyone who reads St Augustine, Hobbes or William Golding knows how far humans can descend when ruled only by baser instinct. Consequently, we should be vigilant not only never to be of the aggressor’s party, even in our smallness – since we know, from the experience of two sieges, how merciless aggressors can be – but also to do our bit, wherever and to the extent that we can and however minor, to promote peace in the international fora in which we are participants.

There’s more. Nazism, that diabolical monster our forefathers gave up their lives to liberate themselves from and to prevent it from engulfing them – preached the worst form of racism, based on the idea that the Aryan race was not only superior to other races but that it also had the right, not to say the duty, to rid itself of them. Co-implicated with race were religion, sexual orientation, disability and any difference judged as not belonging to the ‘pure’ race. Consequently, if we wish to honour our forefathers we cannot tolerate, ever, any swell of racist sentiment in our midst. One is dismayed to hear or read comments against people whose skin colour is different to ours. In last year’s Libyan crisis, Malta welcomed around 20,000 people from 113 different countries, among them children, who were in transit here after escaping from strife. We demonstrated our generosity by sending water and medicines to Libya to relieve the suffering of those caught in war’s vicelike grip. This is the human face that Malta must turn to the world. We can vaunt that. And it would be shameful not to understand that we should show the same magnanimity and tolerance to those who end up among us as they flee famine, disease and war in their country.

Unless unfairly influenced by adults, children are not racist. I therefore feel that it is our duty as parents, teachers, or leaders of religious or civil groups to instil in the minds of children and young people a spirit of tolerance and respect for the dignity of each individual. I very much fear that the word ‘foreign’ no longer carries for us the meaning of a visitor from another country, but has acquired negative connotations concerning someone who has no right to be among us, whom we can perhaps bear if they generate profit but whose presence we are, deep down, unhappy with. This is a close-minded attitude, not conducive to solidarity or mutual respect. It would be better to recognise the appeal of diversity and prepare ourselves to nurture it not only in word but also in deed.

On a local level, our foes today are no longer the armies or powers who assaulted us across the seas or from the skies, but intolerance, domestic violence, drug abuse and tragically, reckless driving; at international level, they are poverty, disease, famine and environmental degradation. As far as the local problems are concerned, we are duty bound to work in a concerted rather than adversarial manner to overcome them through better education, enhanced social security and disciplined driving. At international level and in spite of our not being able to do that much in view of our limited resources, we should promote initiatives leading to more equitable distribution of wealth and safeguard against the ecological perils currently threatening our planet.

Allow me to mention in this context two recent proposals that I feel merit our country’s full support.

Some weeks ago, British Prime Minister David Cameron took the stage afforded by the Olympic Games in London to appeal to world powers to unite in concerted efforts to ensure that in four years’ time new hope and a better future could rekindle the lives of 25 million children around the world who are currently suffering famine and unavailable medical care. I feel that over the next four years Malta should seize every opportunity to recall this appeal and promote every initiative leading to this objective.

The second initiative, currently referred to as the “Ocean Compact”, was announced recently by UN General Secretary Ban Ki-moon and proposes a vision and strategy based on safeguarding the seas from the dangers of pollution and overfishing. Just as in the past Malta played a leading role in the drawing up and ratification of the International Law of the Sea and in bolstering the idea of the common heritage of humankind, so today it should be at the forefront in actively supporting the implementation of this Compact.

In the two sieges our Maltese forefathers emerged victorious because of a joint effort, with everyone pulling together for the common good. That enemy is no longer around today, and we conduct ourselves poorly when we attempt to convey the impression that whoever opposes us politically is our enemy. Democracy demands open and intense debate on everything, but it will not develop as it should if we attack an idea’s exponent rather than the idea itself.

In the months ahead, we can expect political currents to grow turbulent. But if we respect our people, and if we desire our people’s respect, we should observe the rules of the game and not be ruled by passion. The democratic spirit demands the upholding of truth, even if none of us can say that we hold truth entire, for there are always other aspects to reality, which we perhaps do not perceive or that others view differently to us. Even if we cannot attain truth on our own, we are still duty bound to uphold it, especially where others are concerned. We should therefore never disseminate as truth that which we know to be only rumour or gossip and we should never make up unfounded stories about others.

In a democracy there is always scope for debate and argument, but each one of us should be able to recognise their own transgression of the boundaries of reason, fair play, or common sense, without the need to consult any elaborate code of ethics written or cast for the occasion. And when we become aware of a boundary transgressed we should be the first to admit error, step back, and mellow the tone of our expression, thereby holding up a good example to our ranks and our young people. This holds not only for politicians: it holds too for broadcasters and journalists, and for anyone in a position who might influence public opinion in some way.

We can term all these the prerequisites of democracy, the unwritten rules on which the democratic spirit is built or through which it is formed. Among these is one basic rule: political conflict in a democratic society does not aim at destroying, annihilating or humiliating an adversary. Contrary to what occurs in a dictatorship, the disposition towards adversaries in a democracy is not one that seeks to eliminate or be rid of them. In a democracy the adversary is needed, just as argument requires its counter-argument. Democracy, consequently, keeps aloof from that vexatiousness of conflict in which every disagreement degenerates into a contest where the winner takes all and the loser emerges empty-handed.

Like liberty, democracy is fragile; it is quickly cracked and broken, and we tend to recognise its worth once we lose it. Consequently, we should not do anything that hinders or diminishes the democratic spirit, or that impairs the credibility of democratic institutions – Parliament, the courts, the civil service, and those whose duty it is to safeguard order and the rule of law. This holds both for those within these institutions and those who observe them from without.

I started my address this evening by quoting from a number of poems by Dun Karm, in which the poet gives a vivid account of the two major events we are commemorating today – the two hard-won victories that have played such a crucial role in shaping our country’s history. It is one of the great strengths of poetry that it can transcend the limits of ordinary discourse by inventing new ways of saying things, creating a new kind of language that makes it possible for us to look at things and events in a new light, unleashing the powers of the imagination to complement and transform our ordinary patterns of thought.

The interesting thing is that we can achieve the same effects through politics if we succeed in revitalising our political discourse in much the same way that poets and artists in general depart from the style and practice of their predecessors to generate new descriptions or representations of things and events. Contrary to the predicament our ancestors found themselves in against their will in 1565 and 1942, we are not living in a state of siege today. Nevertheless, we can still end up mentally and spiritually besieged if we do not engage in a constant process of renewal of our political discourse. Finding out what needs to be done and what measures to take to fulfil our needs is a task for communal reflection and collective decision-making rather than for old-style confrontational politics. I have no doubt that there are among us those who are quite capable of revitalising the political process by casting their thoughts in consensual rather than confrontational terms, who are prepared to place the interest of the community above personal interests in order to try to strengthen and improve the institutions of our society with an eye to the inclusion of currently excluded or marginalised human beings. By committing ourselves to these ideals, and by seeking to implement them in practice, we can influence the course of history – certainly not on the scale that the two great happenings we commemorate today influenced and transformed it, but in a beneficial way nevertheless.

I’m sure that this is something we can achieve, and this is my wish and hope for all of us on this occasion.

I thank you for giving me the opportunity to share these thoughts with you.

(Translated in consultation with the author by Prof. Ivan Callus)