Recent declarations would indicate a strange kind of government. If ours were a different system, one would be justified to conclude that this is a coalition government. But ours is a two-party system. So why are we witnessing the unfolding of dynamics which belong in a multi-party system?
On April 9, Finance Minister Clyde Caruana stated that the “economy must rest on everything except construction”.
Logically, one would assume that the Finance Minister was expressing government policy. But politics doesn’t always follow logic – on April 16, the Prime Minister hinted at land reclamation plans.
I might naively think that reclamation would serve for afforestation, say, or for pastures where cattle and sheep can graze. But more probably, one of the real motives behind the push for land reclamation is to have more land to build on, for more and more construction.
Here I start scratching my head. On the one hand, the Finance Minister says that construction shouldn’t be the motor of economic growth, and on the other, the Prime Minister hints at land reclamation (ostensibly to allow more construction).
What’s going on? Do we have a two-headed government? Is this a coalition government?
Why are we getting mixed messages from top people in the government? Aren’t they discussing these issues at Cabinet level? Why do they have to send each other conflicting messages in public? What’s going on?
I’ve heard rumours that Prime Minister Abela is planning to remove Finance Minister Caruana. I hope this isn’t true. Frankly, I disagree with many of Minister Caruana’s ideas, but he seems more focussed and more hands-on than Abela. Actually, Labour delegates might really serve the country by voting Abela out and Caruana in. But that’s up to them – it’s a party matter.
What concerns us is the common good – how Abela’s government’s dysfunctions affect the country.
The country needs a coherent long-term vision. Instead it’s getting two visions: a (sober, long-term) vision from the Finance Minister and a(n electioneering) vision from the Prime Minister. What’s this government’s vision for the country? Is it “double vision”?
In the meantime, while this “family feud” unfolds before us, Repubblika’s Robert Aquilina has published a book exposing police inaction. Actually, it’s something worse: police action to cover up crime. This is a kind of perversion that’s so perverted it’s actually hard to digest... it’s perversion to the nth degree. It would seem that certain police officers actually worked (and hard) to make sure that Pilatus Bank crimes are not prosecuted. This isn’t police inaction – it’s police subversive action.
Then, Keith Schembri declared before a Parliament Committee that former Police Deputy Commissioner Silvio Valletta (known as “Uncle Silvio”) and former Finance Minister Edward Scicluna lied to the same Committee. “Uncle Silvio” was no surprise – but Edward Scicluna! Really?! Even Professor Edward Scicluna lied?!
The country is on the brink of some sort of meltdown. I don’t know what meltdown it’s going to be, but it’s obvious that things can’t go on like this for long.
The population is tired of overdevelopment, of a country with no legislation to regulate noise pollution, of the wanton destruction of beautiful buildings to be replaced by ugly, soulless monstrosities, of “developers” and their arrogance, of the non-stop inflow of foreign workers who not only don’t want to integrate but have no incentive to change their minds as they probably don’t want to stay here for too long... a mentality that’s causing a demand for abortion, a practice that the Maltese don’t really need as, even without abortion, they’ve managed to halt demographic growth making Malta’s fertility rate the lowest in the EU.
The stress on the population is stratospheric. Bad traffic management, serious law-and-order issues, lacklustre law enforcement in matters of health and safety, a fraudulent hospital-privatisation deal, executive interference in the administration of justice, an education system that lacks long-term goals, disregard for national culture (the President of the Republic even had to start a campaign to save the national language, while our religious traditions are being trampled upon by the God of Money)... the list goes on and on.
On top of all this stress, we are witnessing a government that seems to reflect the personality of the Prime Minister. We don’t have a democracy; we have an elective Principality. We elect a Prince-Prime Minister once every so many years, and then the Prince-Prime Minister behaves as though he were the State (L’État c’est moi) and the State machinery actually believes it and starts behaving like the faithful dog with its silly master.
The current Prince-Prime Minister is either lazy or incompetent. And the State apparatus, like the faithful dog, copies its master. Laziness (no enforcement, no long-term planning, no initiative to tackle problems) and incompetence (captured also in the now infamous phrase “kulħadd jitħanżer” – everybody pigs it out) are rampant, and ruining the country.
It seems to me that something has to be done, and fast.
I can contemplate three possible scenarios.
One: Abela leaves (or gets removed) and his place is taken by Caruana.
Two: Abela calls an early election and the electorate gets to decide whether to continue with this confused government or to give a chance to the Nationalists and see if they can do better.
Three: Abela digs his heels in and decides to continue till the end of the legislature, in the name of some high-sounding ideal (such as “not becoming paralysed by criticism”, “taking decisions”, “striving to give everyone a better life” etc) but in reality only to pursue narcissistic objectives.
To my mind, Abela should be honest with himself and the country, admit he’s not up to the job coveted by the father but clenched by the son, and call it a day. He’s turning out to be a seriously mediocre Premier. What he seems to be ignoring is the fact that ultimately the nation will have to foot the bill for his mediocrity.
Enough is enough – for the sake of the nation, let’s find a solution.
Let’s call a spade a spade: Abela was a bad choice as successor to Muscat. Labour delegates have to accept this and offer the country a way out. I’m not saying the government is illegitimate – Labour won the elections and that’s that. What I’m saying is that Abela seems increasingly more interested in his yacht moored in Sicily than in the Ship of State here in Malta.
He has every right to be an immature lad even at his age. He’s probably got the financial resources to sustain such an approach to life – though, he really should explain where he gets the money for his yacht’s upkeep.
But Abela’s personal right to be an immature lad doesn’t mean that the nation has an obligation to support him in this folly.
If he’s not a good Prime Minister (and it’s becoming increasingly clear that he’s out of his depth), there’s nowhere written that we have to destroy the country just because he won an election and has four more years to go.
The Labour Parliamentary Group and party organs should take stock of the situation and ask the gentleman to give up his seat in favour of somebody talented and hard-working.
Clyde Caruana 2.0 probably fits the bill. It’s version 2.0 because Mr Caruana has upgraded his ideas – from the belief in economic growth fuelled by population expansion (Caruana 1.0) to the belief that the economy needs diversification and no more reliance on construction and so on (Caruana 2.0).
Faced with the Cutajar Case – which should have been resolved in a matter of hours but instead dragged on for weeks – Robert Abela argued that nobody is bigger than the party. Agreed. The logic applies also to the country. “Nobody is bigger than the country.” High time that Abela starts practise what he preaches.
The Great Silence
An Inspector Søren Farrugia Story
Days had gone by. The media speculated on the murder of the Italian inspector Andrea Montalbano, but the top echelons of the Police seemed unwilling to shift to fast-track mode.
Inspector Søren Farrugia had been invited for an interview with his superior, Mr Zahra, and subsequently prepared a report on the last evening he spent with Montalbano, having been the last person to see him alive. And then... nothing from HQ. Just a great silence.
The Italians were putting pressure on the government and the government gramophone kept dutifully playing the same record: “Let the institutions work.”
Theophano, Mr Zahra’s secretary and Farrugia’s on-and-off girlfriend, told him that rumour had it there was no appetite to tackle the case. Montalbano had come over to investigate the Sicilian Mafia’s connections in Malta and there was no rush to join the dots.
Søren was at home, intent on choosing a DVD to watch while day-dreaming about his girlfriend of sorts, she who kept him up-to-date with the developments taking place behind the scenes. As he chose the film he thought about her name. Theophano. His girlfriend had the name of a Byzantine princess.
He then remembered a collection of poems he had enjoyed, called Sex and the Civil Servant, by the Byzantine poet Paul the Silentiary. Most of Paul’s poems deal with eroticism and are remarkably witty and elegant, but nowadays the Silentiary has been virtually universally forgotten, even by the classicists.
But why on earth was he thinking of Paul the Silentiary? Ah, it was because of the movie he had chosen, Sergio Corbucci’s The Great Silence. But no! First he thought of Theophano, then of the Silentiary. He felt confused. The tension caused by Montalbano’s murder was taking its toll on him.
He sat down and played the DVD. As he re-watched the cult spaghetti Western, images of his Italian friend kept breaking gently on his memory’s shore.
Montalbano had often praised Corbucci’s masterpiece. A mute gunslinger defends a group of outlaws from murderous bounty killers. A perversely fascinating topic for cops. But more generally, the spaghetti Western formula was even more fascinating as it sometimes dealt with a good bully defending the helpless from bad bullies, a sort of samurai without a master. At times, the bad bullies were corrupt politicians.
Farrugia watched the movie with the intensity of he who wants to escape troubling thoughts. The beauty of the snowy Dolomites where the movie was shot and the beauty of Morricone’s score soothed him. Shooting, score... words with double meanings. Who knows if Montalbano’s shooting was meant to settle a score?
As Farrugia watched the movie, deep down inside him weevil larvae ate him alive, the parasites pigged it out on the anxiety caused by one big doubt: had the top echelons planned to leave stones unturned, abandon the manhunt, and, like monks waiting for the night to be over, keep the great silence?