It's especially tragic when fate cuts down a promising person prematurely. We've seen it in countless moments throughout history and in our personal lives. Cruel chance - an illness, an accident, a twist of fate - takes from us a young artist, athlete, or leader who had so much more to give. And the sense of loss that follows is not just for the person themselves, but for the future they could have shaped. It is a loss not only felt in sorrow, but in the emptiness left behind where ideas, achievements, and leadership might have bloomed.

But it is worse when humans, rather than nature or fate, inflict this fate. A society's decision to knowingly or unknowingly break its own tools... When a community, out of fear, envy, or internal rivalry, turns on its own brightest prospects. When the very mechanisms meant to foster talent instead crush it for being inconvenient, too independent, too unaligned with the quiet dictates of an inner circle.

In our national story, we have often been guilty of suffocating potential, especially when it comes from quarters that do not play by the unspoken rules of loyalty and submission. Malta, and Gozo in particular, has never lacked capable individuals with fresh energy and authentic connection to the people. What we have often lacked is the maturity to allow these individuals to thrive if they do not conform to a predefined mold.

Today, we are watching a similar pattern unfold. A young parliamentarian from Gozo, Alex Borg, stepped into national politics with confidence, clarity, and a strong connection to his constituents. In the last general election, he garnered the support of more than 6,000 voters - a remarkable number for a first-time candidate. He didn't ride on an established surname, nor did he carry the endorsement of traditional party power brokers. He earned that support through direct contact with the people, speaking to their frustrations and hopes, especially those of Gozitans who have long felt treated as second-class citizens.

This independent ascent immediately placed him under suspicion - not by the electorate, but by those within his own party who view autonomy and charisma as threats to control. The same clique that engineered the political demise of Adrian Delia now turns its attention to anyone who rises without their blessing. For these figures, the true enemy is not the opposing party, but losing their grip on internal dynamics. Anyone who dares to grow outside the shadow of the "accepted leadership" becomes a target for undermining.

This is not a recent phenomenon. History is full of examples of societies that have turned on their own talents. Think of Mikhail Gorbachev, the last leader of the Soviet Union. Visionary, reformist, and deeply committed to opening up a stagnant and oppressive system, Gorbachev introduced glasnost and perestroika, offering his people a path toward freedom and renewal. But instead of receiving support, hardliners attacked him for his reforms, nationalists blamed him for hindering them, and the West praised him more than his own country did. They pushed him out and sidelined him, while his successors undid much of his legacy. Russia did not become freer - it became more autocratic. The bitterness of his fall did not just end a career. Tragically, the event eliminated all potential for a future. The courage of one man frightened the insecurity of many.

Today, in our own small but complex political landscape, we risk committing the same error. A young politician like Alex Borg represents a break from the tired rituals of political choreography. He connects directly with people, especially with those in Gozo who are weary of being overlooked. He does not speak the guarded, pre-approved language of political diplomacy. And that, for some, is unforgivable. In the eyes of the party's inner sanctum, a politician should climb the ladder carefully, one rung at a time, bowing at every level to those who pulled the strings before. Alex Borg, by bypassing that rite of passage, has provoked a silent revolt - not from the public, but from party insiders.

Criticism has appeared, couched in articles and opinion pieces, aiming not to challenge policy positions but to chip away at character. The goal is not public accountability, but political containment. These writings do not seek to build debate, but to plant doubt. It is the oldest tactic in politics: if you cannot beat someone with ideas, tarnish them with suspicion.

This is how potential dies - not with loud condemnation, but with steady, calculated erosion. A whisper here, a question there. Is he too ambitious? Too confident? Not "mature" enough? Not sufficiently aligned? These vague accusations isolate, to cast a shadow, to encourage hesitation among supporters and hesitation in the man himself. It is done with the precision of strategy, not the messiness of honest criticism.

But we must ask: to what end? What do we gain by snuffing out those who inspire enthusiasm in a cynical political climate? What advantage do we create by returning to a stale formula of interchangeable candidates whose only quality is obedience? If we keep punishing initiative and courage within our own ranks, what future are we actually building?

There is a dangerous comfort in uniformity. This uniformity lets the few maintain their position while keeping the many in line. But politics is not supposed to be about comfort for the few. It is supposed to be about hope for the many. And individuals willing to take risks carry hope forward, speak plainly, and remain close to the people they represent.

Alex Borg is not perfect. No one is. He will make mistakes, perhaps more than once. But his willingness to stand on his own feet, to represent his constituency without waiting for permission, deserves encouragement - not suppression. If the Nationalist Party truly believes in renewal, in youth, in rebuilding trust with the people, then it must stop fearing those who actually embody these values.

Because if the pattern continues - if every time a fresh voice emerges, the party sabotages it instead of supporting it - then the party will continue its slow slide into irrelevance. The intelligence of voters prevents easy manipulation. They also recognise when a party is more interested in maintaining an internal balance of power than in winning back the country's trust.

Let us be clear: the biggest threat to political movements is not external opposition, but internal insecurity. The factions that destroyed Adrian Delia's leadership did not act out of concern for electoral prospects. They acted out of fear that he did not owe them allegiance. And now, they see the same in Alex Borg: someone who listens more to the people than to the phone calls from Pieta Headquarters' corridors.

There is still time to choose a different path. We can build a political culture that supports growth, that mentors, rather than undermines, that recognises that leadership must develop beyond tribal loyalty. But to do this, everyone must sheathe their knives. We must recognise articles written in bad faith for what they are - not guidance, but veiled sabotage. The old guard must finally accept that their version of control is no longer viable in a political era, demanding sincerity and visibility.

And we, as observers, voters, and citizens, must resist the temptation to stay silent while internal power games erode the next generation of leadership. If we do not, we will wake up one day and realize that we have no leaders left - only placeholders. Disillusionment will have driven the truly talented away, or others will have forced them out prematurely.

The flower, once plucked prematurely, does not grow back. The opportunity, once lost, does not return. If we are to move forward as a society and as a political movement, we must learn to nurture, not stifle. And that begins with defending promise wherever it appears - even, and especially, when it appears outside the comfort zones of those in control.