As my regular readers will vouch, I have always been a firm believer in the bilingual aptitude of the vast majority of Maltese. There is absolutely nothing new in it, however. For centuries under the rule of the prevailing empire of the day, Malta needed to survive economically, culturally and spiritually by mastering the language of the ruler, from Arabic, to Greek, Latin, Sicilian, Florentine Italian, a French fling and finally English.

The wonder of this linguistic practicality is that our very own national language has outlasted them all and today boasts its own literature, book trade and a long sequence of generations of authors, poets and playwrights, most of whom were and are still bilingual in their artistic existence and expression. Suffice it to mention the late Francis Ebejer, whose works in both Maltese and English retain to this day their freshness and literary value. People who have more than a passing interest in the lively scene of Commonwealth literature, for example, will tell you that some of his best works in English are still studied, researched and featured in magazines, published critiques and comparative exercises.

Ebejer was a prime backer of Malta’s bilingual forays in most fields, cultural or not, as long as the distinction between the vernacular and the global was kept. His book The Bilingual Writer as Janus, published by the Foundation for International Studies in 1989, is a strong testament to the ability of the minuscule Maltese nation to adapt to the often changing historical scenarios in which it found itself over the centuries.

Ebejer, alas, did not live to watch the two languages in use today, Maltese and English, intertwining and intermingling as they are in a way that has been slowly eating away at the flesh of both, with mostly sad results. It is not a new language emerging, for that would not have been too bad as all languages are beautiful, but more of a syndrome, a national conundrum, that reveals patterns and conditions that could only lead to a silly hotchpotch – sometimes referred to as Maltingliż, in the popular humoristic manner of Franglais – that is anything but bilingual.

At the risk of being censored by my long-suffering editor, perhaps I should mention I have just delved into the subject of Maltese bilingualism in my new book Il-Lingwa tad-Ding Dong which, in truth, is a somewhat sarcastic – but hopefully also realistic – approach to the issue. It is actually a live commentary, with added value from some respected and renowned academic friends, on Maltese bilingualism. The obvious question is: does bilingualism mean the Maltese can fire away in piecemeal Maltese and English at the same time, or that, when needed or desired, one can speak and write in either of the two languages?

This “ding dong” construction of dialogue and writing is doing neither language any favours and it is sadly getting louder in the way the 21st-century Maltese speak among themselves at home, in the street, in church, at the club, on radio and television. The book focuses on the state of the Maltese language today as seen from the lens of a frustrated journalist, yours truly, who has spent an entire career trying to disentangle this linguistic phenomenon by having worked, and still working, in both Maltese and English, the official ding dong languages of Malta.

Attempts to give precedence to one language over the other are dangerous. Decisions have been taken in the past that were meant to serve short-term personal agendas, such as when a government minister’s daughter conveniently had the Maltese language prerequisite to enter her university course removed, for it to be reintroduced for the following year’s students. There are also sporadic, often well-meant and certainly not vicious calls for less rigidity on the use of Maltese in higher institutions, again a dangerous trend, given there really is no handicap to anyone’s future career if he or she has to have good grades in Maltese.

Maltingliż, some say, is a unique linguistic development, like the hilarious Italo-Maltese concoction used within our law courts. Quirky and amusing, no doubt, but hardly the stuff of good, everyday languages. Bilingualism is a vital instrument, if it is properly handled and used.

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Making a difference

It seems we do make a difference when it comes to the film industry. Malta has long been a favourite place among film producers, not only because the island provides an interesting array of locations and predictably good weather for most of the year, but it is also thanks to – sorry, back at it again – our bilingualism. They just move their circus here and they know they won’t need translators to get around and to get what they need for their magnificent art.

We also make a difference in that we rightly accede to many of their wishes, although there have been instances when an understandable negative reaction occurred – such as when the fossil-filled ground at Dwejra was topped with harmful mounds of sand and the Maltese flag on the Freedom Monument in Birgu was temporarily replaced by the Jolly Roger!

But mainly it has been plain-sailing, production-wise, since the Sixties and the local industry associated with film-making continues to prosper under Engelbert Grech. There have been productions that tested the patience of villagers and city dwellers alike, but in the end the benefits for their micro economies were too good to ignore.

Brad Pitt’s recent shooting in Gozo of his and his wife’s film By the Sea provided its own disruptions to the Gozitan way of life, but people there rightly persevered to the end, as did other locations chosen for the recent film production of 13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi, depicting the American Embassy tragedy in Libya’s second largest city.

Compare this to the public moaning of many Northern Ireland farmers who were recently reported as having been angered by the loud explosions created for Brad’s new film The Lost City of Z which he has been shooting on land near Ballygally.

Residents have been sharing photos of explosions and smoke billowing across the Northern Irish countryside which, they claimed, have terrified their livestock! The explosions shook houses and windows, horses went spare and tried to jump ditches and cows and chickens were, goodness me, seriously affected by the noise.

Brad must have been silently missing the good-natured Gozitans.

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A world gone completely insane?

While we grapple with our problem of shrinking ODZ, in Norway a controversial plan to harvest ice cubes from a melting glacier to sell them in luxury bars across the globe has been cited as proof that the world has gone completely insane.

Nina Jensen, Secretary General of WWF in Norway, has rightly insisted: “To me, this is an example of the world’s complete insanity. I can’t imagine how it can be sustainable to carve out ice using helicopters and then fly it around the world.”

The idea to use parts of Svartisen – mainland Norway’s second largest glacier which is projected to melt over the next century – is being pushed forward by a Norwegian company that has won a grant from the local municipality enthusiastically backing the project, of course for its economic benefits.

I am ok – not in the dirty-old-man sense – with the growing number of Norwegian students coming here to learn the English language, but they can keep their glacier ice cubes. We produce good enough ice cubes at Balluta, thank you.