The government's decision to rapidly push forward reforms to the system of magisterial inquiries without wide consultation stirred justified criticism earlier this year. While magisterial inquiries have often served the public interest by uncovering truths that led to criminal charges, their very necessity has also been a damning reflection of systemic failures within the police force. Historically, these inquiries were not the first port of call - they were initiated precisely because the police were seen to be failing in their basic duty to investigate potential crimes, particularly when powerful individuals were involved.

This historical context made the reform deeply troubling. By enacting a law stating that a police investigation must precede the possibility of requesting a magisterial inquiry, the government placed an intentional barrier in front of a critical mechanism of accountability. Given the documented reluctance or inability of police in the past to take decisive action in sensitive cases - especially those involving politically connected individuals - this requirement does not build trust. It breeds suspicion.

Critics rightly argued that this proposed filter turned the very rationale behind magisterial inquiries on its head. If the problem lies with police inaction or hesitance, adding a layer that makes them gatekeepers to further investigation effectively neutralises the tool. It does not enhance justice; it delays or obstructs it. The reform thus looked less like a rational streamlining of process and more like an institutional fortification against scrutiny. It cannot be ignored that many of the most impactful magisterial inquiries in recent years have involved members of government or individuals closely connected to them. The timing and nature of this bill strongly suggested a strategic manoeuvre to limit damage rather than a good-faith attempt at legislative improvement.

Despite clear and vocal opposition from the Nationalist Party and other segments of civil society, the government remained unmoved. It did not opt for the customary white paper to open the floor for discussion. It did not pause to consider the implications of the reform through consultation. It charged ahead with a bill that had deep and lasting effects on Malta's already fragile mechanisms of accountability. The parliamentary discussion was not delayed or broadened - it was fast-tracked. In democratic governance, speed is not always a virtue, especially when it appears calculated to limit oversight rather than enhance it.

This rush to legislate stands in sharp contrast to the government's deafening silence in response to more meaningful suggestions for reform, such as those made by the Commissioner for Standards in Public Life. Joseph Azzopardi, in his annual report, made a clear and pragmatic recommendation: that abuse by persons holding state office should be criminalised.

This proposal is rooted in actual investigations, including the case involving the partner of former Minister Clayton Bartolo, who was granted a consultancy position without appropriate qualifications. The Commissioner found breaches of ethics and identified abuse of power and favouritism involving Bartolo and Minister Clint Camilleri. Despite these findings, the ministers were defended by Prime Minister Robert Abela, with Bartolo only resigning after a second issue emerged and about which we are still waiting an outcome.

The Commissioner's recommendation is far more than a symbolic gesture. It is a structural change that would place Malta in line with jurisdictions that take public ethics and accountability seriously. It would make wilful neglect of duty and misconduct in office criminal offences, sending a strong signal that public office is a trust, not a privilege to be exploited. But here, the government has shown no urgency. No white paper, no bill, no debate scheduled with accelerated urgency. The contrast is damning.

The message this dual approach sends is that the government is willing to expend energy and political capital to shield itself and its affiliates from uncomfortable scrutiny, but not to pursue meaningful safeguards that would limit such abuses in the future. The citizens of Malta are being told, implicitly and explicitly, that laws will be shaped not around justice or equity, but around convenience for those in power.

The government's resistance to criminalising abuse of office reflects a deeper problem: an entrenched culture where accountability is considered optional. Public ethics are treated as a matter of personal discretion, not legal obligation. This perception is dangerous, and the erosion of institutional trust that follows will not be easily reversed.

A functioning democracy depends on mechanisms that allow it to investigate itself. Magisterial inquiries, despite their imperfections, have been one such tool. Dismantling or weakening them at the precise moment when calls for higher standards in public life are growing is more than tone-deaf - it is cynical.

The people of Malta deserve a government that is willing to be held to account, not one that rewrites the rules to evade scrutiny. Reforms should be rooted in the public good, not in political expediency. Until the government proves willing to enact laws that enhance transparency and punish wrongdoing - regardless of who commits it - its credibility on institutional reform remains deeply suspect.