I remember two particular days in the early 1990s when time stood still. One on Saturday, 23 May 1992, and the other on Sunday, 19 July 1992. A mere 57 days later. Fifty-seven days separated the assassinations of two bold, brave, conscientious anti-mafia judges in Sicily who spent most of their professional life trying to overthrow the power of the Mafia. Giovanni Falcone and Paolo Borsellino, two childhood friends, who grew up together in Palermo, and who were killed a few weeks apart. Falcone died in Borsellino's arms. Those of my age and older, knew who they were, we watched them on TV, we followed their lonely fight against the behemoth that was the Corleonesi mafia that ended up killing them, we followed the massive Maxi Processo in Ucciardone. We glued ourselves to the TV in an era of no 24-hour news cycles, but of 'Edizioni Straordinarie'. We mourned them because we knew them through their work.
For the third time, I was invited by the Fondazione Falcone, together with the local representative of the Foundation, Robert Aquilina, to the events celebrating the lives and legacy of Falcone and Borsellino. Every visit always holds a particular resonance even because so many parallels can be drawn with our own particular mafia killing of the lone investigative journalist, Daphne Caruana Galizia. All three fought the system that allowed the tentacles of organised crime to wrap itself like barnacles around the ship of State, all three were isolated towards the end of their lives, even by people who were considered allies. All three paid the ultimate price.
All three inspired people to stand up to be counted after their assassinations.
While sitting in the audience during the live programme on the Italian State Broadcaster from the Museo del presente Giovanni Falcone Paolo Borsellino, that the Fondazione Falcone inaugurated recently, I was reminded of the words that Sergio Mattarella, the president of Italy, whose brother was killed by the Mafia, had said from the podium on the 30th anniversary of the Strage di Capaci:
"Thirty years have passed when the history of our Republic seemed to stop, as if annihilated by pain and fear. The deafening silence after the boom, the likes of which had never been heard before, effectively portrays the disorientation of the country when faced with that unprecedented attack. Civil society refused to accept the humiliation of the country in silence and contributed immediately to society's renewal."
In Italy, the institutions rose up, shook themselves of the shackles of the Mafia and started investing in educating the young and removing stooges from key positions whose only remit was to undermine the State through its legislative, administrative and executive branches.
Just like in Italy, 'the deafening silence after the boom' that killed Daphne was immediately filled by a renewed civil society. We mourned her because we knew her through her work. But this is where our common experiences diverge. In our country, most of our institutions are still in the grip of special interests, of big business, of complicit politicians and willing and active acolytes who still go out of their way to vilify and dehumanise a journalist who challenged the status quo and held the powerful to account. The Maltese State, which was found guilty of contributing to the circumstances leading to Daphne's assassination, has yet to honour one of our own for paying the ultimate price for love of country.
The opposite is painfully true. Not only have the authorities not honoured Daphne in any way, but they are also complicit in their inertia to stop the constant abuse of her memory, of her legacy and of those among us who stand up to be counted.
While I was in the museum dedicated to the victims of the Mafia, on the very day when Italy stops to celebrate its heroes, I read that Repubblika had filed legal proceedings against former government official Neville Gafà, alleging that he has repeatedly threatened and intimidated protesters maintaining a memorial to Daphne. The irony was not lost on me especially since I had just viewed the two posters of the slain Maltese journalist in this museum, the only non-Italian to be honoured in this hallowed place. Fondazione Falcone even went as far as opening its very first branch outside Italy last November...in Siggiewi, Malta.
In Italy, the ruling political class and eminent exponents of the institutions are expected to participate in the Strage di Capaci/via d'Amelio commemorations. A far cry when they were hounded out of the funeral for Falcone by a very angry sea of mourners who viewed the presence of politicians, who had failed the victims in life, as pure effrontery in death. In Malta, half of the political class make believe that 16 October 2017 never happened and the other half try not to be too 'negative' and avoid giving Daphne her due even when it is the right thing to do.
Is it tiring to keep fighting for truth and justice for Daphne and our country? Yes, it is. But as long as the families of Falcone, Borsellino, Caruana Galizia and other victims of the Mafia keep inspiring us with their courage and stoicism, who are we to give up? 'Non mollare!' don Luigi Ciotti, a firebrand priest and founder of one of the major anti-mafia organisation in Europe, Libera, told me when I spoke to him briefly a few yards from Falcone's tomb.
We will continue to follow your advice, don Ciotti. We won't give up. Ever.
Because they didn't. Until the end.
Alessandra Dee Crespo is a civil society activist