Numbers, numbers, and more numbers. Enough numbers to make us feel eternal gratitude towards our glorious Labour leaders.
The Minister of Tourism has announced that quality and such stuff is important but, hey, so are numbers. The Minister of Culture - why does that title sound so ironic? - has spoken about the giant steps we have made in culture. But all he did was spout, like the stuck needle of an old record player, the number of increased Malta heritage site visits.
The Gozo Minister recently announced that more than 164,000 people crossed between Malta and Gozo and that the Gozo ferries transported 47,000 vehicles in a week.
Just as an asinine aside the Gozo Minister is also the minister responsible for planning. A coincidental detail that is rather damning.
As long as the numbers keep coming through the turnstiles who cares about anything else?
It's been an age since Covid had turned us into a bunch of silly dreamers. We were worried we would never get out of the infernal lockdown; terrified that there was going to be a cataclysmic breakdown of society. But we were told - and we solemnly swore allegiance to such idealists - that, if we did get out of the plight, we'd be better, we'd look after the planet, our air, our ways.
No sooner had the pandemic ended than all ideals were thrown out the window. Now we are back to normal - if ruining our own life can be termed normal - and our leaders are back in full energised throttle to take us back to pre-Covid days when all was done in the name of relentless progress. And the numbers games are back in town.
While suffering the loneliness and fear that any pandemic creates, we promised ourselves, God and whichever deity looks after the planet's health, that we would be changed specimens. We would ensure we looked after our country in a- oh horror of a cliched word - sustainable way.
We saw how the lack of cars was improving our respiration, our air, our wellbeing. Even Msida, that poor forever polluted place, recorded the best period for air quality while the pandemic was running amok.
Our lungs, our suffering lungs, breathed a sigh of relief during Covid. Now our ministers and other assorted dolts scream at the top of their lungs about success because the numbers keep growing. Growing exponentially.
The promises to take us out of the wilderness caused by the pandemic were always embellished by the authorities. Mind you this happened not just in Malta, but here we have more challenges than other countries. Our space is limited and if we move from Msida to Marsa or to Floriana the air quality hardly improves. Even the north of the island and Gozo are progressively becoming congested thanks no doubt to our very able ministers who are very good at planning.
Our leaders - yes we choose them so we are as much to blame as them - have the brains of a locust. The ministers speak of bigger numbers as signifying a brighter future. Because this is all their brain can value: the future is assured as long as numbers and therefore cash flows in.
The tourism sector keeps celebrating the numbers we attract. Before the model we have chosen is dumped, Malta will remain slowly but surely turning into a dump.
Unless we move on and find out how best to stop basing our success on numbers we are bound to ultimately fail. It's sadly ironic but our success at the moment is our own passport to failure. You don't need too many brain cells to realise that Malta is not coping with the increased numbers of visitors coming here.
Growth is necessary but not when it is uncontrollable and not following a well-devised, carefully thought-out plan.
The Labour Party in power has always cared more about numbers and glitz. Anything long-term cannot even be visualised let alone discussed or realised by Robert Abela and his colleagues. And numbers numb us into a state of ennui and inebriation.
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