One might be forgiven to think otherwise, but Politics is not a soap opera. Even if the big-leaguers in the local political pond seem to think that they need bread and circuses to keep afloat. It is a real disgrace that Robert Abela and his inner murder of crows stood stock-still before the unfolding melodrama of Rosianne Cutajar’s future. Should she stay or should she go? As the days dragged on, Dr Abela was unable to do the right thing and pull the plug on Ms Cutajar’s political career.
Needless to say, Dr Abela was electioneering not leading the country. It seems he’s a member of that club that understands – in the most hopelessly superficial of ways – politics as nothing more than electioneering: winning the next elections at all costs, regardless of long-term policy and consequences. Hence, he stood stock-still, paralysed and unable to do the right thing: show Ms Cutajar the door. Immediately.
Ms Cutajar, on the other hand, played her hand well. She understood Dr Abela’s mindset and bided her time. Then again, she was short-sighted, as indeed she was only prolonging the agony, even though her political death was clearly written on the wall.
At the same time, she spiced up the soap opera. Needlessly, I would say, as the country does not need soap operas but leadership. Then again, she probably lived up to the source of her (middle) name, Sue-Ellen. In a televised interview with Glen Bedingfield and Luke Dalli a few years ago, Ms Cutajar revealed that her middle name was inspired by Sue Ellen Ewing, the alcoholic wife of JR Ewing, the protagonist of the primetime soap opera of the late ’70s and ’80s, Dallas.
But Ms Cutajar’s behaviour has nothing to do with alcohol (and I am certainly not implying that). What I’m saying is that, with the connivance or involuntary complicity of Robert Abela, she has contributed to the further deterioration of politics in Malta, debasing the dignity of politics from the art of government to the art of morbid entertainment for a politically-illiterate public. Not only did she not realise that her behaviour was inappropriate, but she even gave the impression that it’s acceptable.
The implications from her behaviour include the following:
- It’s acceptable to open a court case knowing full well that the position one wants to defend (under oath) is false. Unlike us, she did not learn of her relationship with Yorgen Fenech after that madcap Mark Camilleri (legally or illegally) published their messages. Unlike us, she knew from day one! So she sued Mark Camilleri knowing that he was saying the truth. This is an abuse of the judicial process.
- It’s acceptable to compromise oneself with somebody and then to defend that somebody in an international forum, without disclosing the close relationship.
- It’s acceptable to receive money on a real estate transaction without declaring that income in the pertinent official income declaration.
Though these are serious implications, Ms Cutajar is still a Member of the House. There is something rotten in the constitutional setup of this country. In my view, it now behoves the Speaker of the House to delve into the matter and give us a reasoned opinion as to whether a person with such a track record should stay on as Member of the House.
And then Robert Abela had the gall to say that standards have risen thanks to this episode! Probably I was wrong to say that this is a soap opera. This is Alice in Wonderland la Maltija!
Not only. But Prime Minister Abela has failed to address the elephant... sorry, the pig... in the room. In her convoluted innocence, Ms Cutajar admitted with Yors Fenech that “everybody is pigging out”. Was the Labour Party Executive Committee about to kick her out of the Party because, thanks to her, the public secret has been publicly confirmed? Or was it because Labour considers that she did something wrong? The Labour Leader should, for once, do the right thing and address the elephant-pig in the room.
In the meantime – and this is what politics should be about – Finance Minister Clyde Caruana has informed us that we face a rough, bumpy ride.
While Dr Abela and Ms Cutajar were engaged in their tango – should she stay or should she go? – Mr Caruana told us, in old-school Mintoffian jargon, that we’re about to have our collective belt tightened.
Mr Caruana seems to me one of the few Labour politicians who really understand the meaning of Politics. This Minister deserves praise for his professional, serious approach to politics. I think Politics should be done Caruana-style not Abela-style, with serious-minded people on different sides of the spectrum discussing serious issues, not fomenting soap operas. I say this despite the fact that I disagree with most, if not all, of Mr Caruana’s ideas.
Tellingly, Mr Caruana too seems to be disagreeing with his own ideas.
Over the past few months, Mr Caruana has been telling us that the time has come to discard the “successful” formula he himself once so vehemently championed: achieving economic growth through a rapidly growing population.
Consider, for instance, his speech at the launch of the Malta Skills Survey last October. He argued that, “What people expect now is not just growth, but an improvement in the economy. Not just money in their pockets, but also quality of life. It is clear that the old recipe cannot be applied if we are to have a better economy. Investment should be put where needed – otherwise it risks being wasted.”
He expects inflation to remain high over the coming months, while cost-cutting in government spending is quickly becoming the norm.
Yes, as Opposition Leader Bernard Grech astutely pointed out, while “everybody is pigging it” (“kulħadd jitħanżer”), the Finance Minister plans to tighten the collective belt.
Question is: if population growth is no longer the recipe, why are hundreds of flats still sprouting all over?
After the Interview
An Inspector Søren Farrugia Story
Inspector Søren Farrugia had been summoned to HQ for an interview with his boss, Mr Zahra. The Italian inspector Andrea Montalbano – a distant relative of the well-known Commissario Salvo Montalbano, about whom the late Sicilian author Andrea Camilleri had written 28 novels – had been found in a pool of blood in his hotel in Paceville and Farrugia was the last person to see Montalbano alive. Farrugia’s (secret) on-and-off girlfriend Theophano, Mr Zahra’s secretary, had called him to warn him about rumours that the murder had caused quite a stir in the corridors of power.
“Come in, Søren.”
Mr Zahra’s welcome was polite, neither warm nor cold, and Farrugia didn’t like it. What would his boss be driving at?
“Sit down, Søren. Make yourself comfortable.”
All this kindness – very fishy, thought Farrugia to himself.
Mr Zahra smiled – even though to Søren it seemed more like he had bared his teeth – and Farrugia reciprocated.
“So tell me, Søren, tell me everything you know about yesterday’s murder. You knew the Commissario... you knew him well, right?”
Farrugia sat down and opened up. He told Mr Zahra that he and Montalbano went back a long way, that Montalbano had informed him he would be coming to Malta for a brief work-related visit to investigate the Mafia’s Malta connections and that he wished to meet up for some catching-up. They dined together the previous night and then he accompanied his Sicilian friend to his Paceville hotel, and then went home.
“So that’s it?” asked Mr Zahra.
“That’s it.”
“Did he tell you about his mission? What did he say?”
“Not much really.”
“OK,” concluded Mr Zahra. “Prepare me a written report. I want all the details relating to your dinner and what happened afterward, and a detailed account of what he told you about his mission. No rush, Søren, but I’d appreciate if you’d have it ready by this evening.”
They shook hands and Inspector Farrugia left Mr Zahra’s office.
That went too well, Farrugia thought to himself.
The mobile rang; it was Theophano.
“How was it, dear?”
“It went very smoothly.”
“Oh, that’s very good... right?”
“Wrong. It was pleasant, gentle, and short.”
“So?”
“So it means something’s in the air. And it ain’t pretty. You were right to tell me that people high up are worried. They’re very worried. Montalbano must have been on to something. Let’s talk later.”
“But are you alright?”
“Yes, sweetheart, I’m fine. But I need to get going. There’s a bunch of questions I need to find an answer for. And fast.”
First, however, he had to write up that blasted report for Zahra. He had to be cautious, as that report, in which he would be making a number of statements without enough time to think them through, would remain as black-on-white, hard evidence if somebody wanted to pin the murder on him.
Am I getting paranoid?, Farrugia wondered as he sped off to head back to the Station.