Some traditional Nationalists of my acquaintance, good, good people with perfect faces, have recently given vent to their honest frustration at the remarkable sequence of gaffes the new PN deputy leader, Simon Busuttil, has let loose on an electorate still trying to decipher what he really stands for and what the people, who made sure he got the job over the heads of various stupefied pretenders, had in mind.
Not only has he been caught interpreting things differently from the Prime Minister’s versions of events and proposals, but he has also shown there is an obvious lack of political acumen and, as a result, is already being haunted by the ghosts of his own declarations. Since his appointment in a leadership contest that many saw as an inter-party interdiction of the whole Cabinet of ministers, Busuttil has shown he has the habit of shooting himself in the foot. Even the media that is inclined, for reasons we all know, to make his life at the hustings less embarrassing has had no choice but to gasp at the gaffe parade he has managed to top so frequently.
The examples thus far in the election campaign have been many and varied, but three particular episodes deserve mention. Perhaps the gaffe that won him the most ironic accolades was the not-so-philosophical quip that said Labour are using Deborah Schembri, who shot to fame as a result of her frontline appearance on the successful Yes team during the divorce referendum campaign in 2011, “because she has a Nationalist face”.
The absurdity of the claim was immediately captured on air by Deborah Schembri and her PL colleague, Michael Falzon, during a Broadcasting Authority debate when they simply could not contain themselves. Theirs was a natural reaction to a ridiculousness that must have not gone down too well inside the dark confines (sorry, can’t say which floor!) of the PN strategy centre.
You would expect someone who has been caught with his pants down in this manner to try and forget he ever uttered that quip, but no, when asked to comment on it, Simon Busuttil had the temerity to stand by his words. Smooth-cushioned by the PBS circus in Guardamangia, Busuttil seems to feel confident enough to know there will always be the hired gate-keepers to protect him.
The long-overdue issue of party financing also brought out the worst from the PN deputy leader. The other “pretenders” who chose to take a laid-back attitude to his election to the post must be rubbing their hands in silent glee. When asked whether he would be publishing the party’s finances for the period since Prime Minister Lawrence Gonzi took over, he feebly insisted that he promises to publish only those connected with the current election campaign.
But the media understandably persisted on the issue, and that is when the PN deputy leader made another top-of-the-chart gaffe for posterity. He announced, rather dryly, that he could not publish the party’s finances of the past nine years since he has only been in his post for two months!
Again, the public reaction was incredulous. Deputy leaders do not keep financial records. They have other party officials to do the (dirty?) job. It means he could easily have agreed to ask for them and then humbly make them public for the benefit of so many people on these islands who seriously do not believe too much hype is made of secret and some not-so-secret donations to the party in power.
His refusal of course means there will always be the lingering suspicion that Busuttil’s party has something to hide. This becomes more glaring when one considers the fact that the Labour Party has, for ages, been publishing its accounts, whether in government or in Opposition. Busuttil – and the Prime Minister who also had his indecisive input on the matter – could have proved all the doubters wrong by the stroke of a pen or a mobile tinkle, but they didn’t.
To complicate matters for them, documents had already surfaced in the media which revealed massive private-industry donations to the PN bandwagon. Few people believe these donations could simply or naively have been made out of sheer political loyalty, though their immense size still renders them condemnable. Obvious preferential baggage has to come with such huge financial backing.
Hit Number 3 on the Gaffe Parade since Busuttil was briskly foisted on the Maltese and Gozitan electorate concerned the Franco Debono claim that a Public Broadcasting Services high ranking official had been present with him at Castille during a failed reconciliatory meeting with Prime Minister Gonzi.
During several days of marked silence on the part of both PBS and Castille, Busuttil was again caught up by the liveliest of Malta’s media girls – during what should have been an easy election-time ride discussing ripe tomatoes – who invited him to comment on the rebel government MP’s claim.
Who was the PBS high official, she asked? Then, drama. Samples of healthy tomato fruit had just started doing the rounds and changing hands. Busuttil fondled his. His colleague, Minister George Pullicino, dusted it and even seemed tempted to taste it as the rest of the entourage visiting a party friend beamed with obvious satisfaction. But everyone knew there had to be an answer to the question, for the TV cameras were rolling.
“Why don’t you ask Franco Debono?” Busuttil told the girl interviewer as he moved awkwardly away, certainly not in the suave way we are accustomed to watching him go.
It was obvious the PN deputy leader had either not been informed that the Castille-PBS tandem were actually working on an official admission of the event (we came to know it was PBS chief executive Anton Attard who had been to Castille with Franco Debono), or he preferred to keep mum in the presence of such agricultural profusion that could have ended up as metaphorical sauce on his face. A Nationalist face, of course.
There were other glorious gaffes, such as the great contradiction over the refund people would get for out-of-stock medicines and pills they buy from the private sector, which revealed a man incredibly out of his depth and evidently ill-prepared for the rigours of a long and arduous election campaign.
Few from within and without the PN seem to think the parade can stop while the electoral clock beats away.