The Nationalist Party resembles a patient bedridden for over a decade. The decline began after 2013, when the defeat of Lawrence Gonzi left the party in shock and without direction. Since then, every specialist called in to diagnose and treat the illness has failed to deliver a lasting cure. The patient lies weak, surviving on drips, while the carers-those who pretend to love the patient most-bicker, interfere, and manipulate, often more concerned with their own comfort than with the health of the one they claim to serve.

The first specialist brought in after Gonzi's fall was Simon Busuttil. With an upright character and genuine conviction, he tried to apply his medicine. He appealed for integrity, justice, and clean politics. He thought the illness stemmed from the corruption that consumed Labour, and he dedicated himself to exposing it. Yet his treatment failed to revive the patient. He could not read the pulse of the grassroots. The patient showed no sign of recovery under his watch. Defeat in 2017 sealed his fate, and he handed over the file to another doctor.

The carers then turned to Adrian Delia. He came not from the inner corridors of the clinic. Having arrived from outside, he was full of energy, carrying a diagnosis that pointed directly at the rotting system within. He wanted to shake things up, to treat not just the external symptoms but the internal causes of the disease. Many patients suffer not only because of their illnesses but also because of the meddling of their so-called carers. This was something that Delia comprehended. But from the moment he walked into the ward, those very carers conspired against him. They whispered, obstructed, and refused to give him the space to work. They said they trusted the patient, but they distrusted the specialist chosen to save him. The illness worsened, not because the medicine was wrong, but because those responsible for assisting the cure sabotaged the process at every step.

Instead of rallying behind the one man who promised to lift the patient back on his feet, they created hostility within the ward. The patient grew weaker, not because the doctor lacked skill but because every time he reached for an instrument, someone in the background removed it, or swapped it with a blunt one. Eventually, the carers pushed Delia aside. They claimed his cure would never work. They brought in another face, Bernard Grech, a man who had not even walked through the hospital corridors before.

Grech took charge with charm and good manners. At first, the carers felt relieved. Here was someone they could talk to, someone who gave them the comfort they craved, even if he lacked experience. But treating a patient requires more than a bedside manner. You need courage, conviction, and, above all, a coherent plan to restore strength. Grech tried, but soon he realised the illness was deeper than he had thought. The magnitude of the situation caused him to feel overwhelmed and unable to cope. He could not handle the burden, so he laid down his instruments and quietly opted out.

The patient still lies in bed, weaker than ever. Once again, the carers gather to decide the next move. The irony could not be sharper. Adrian Delia, now stronger with experience, scarred but wiser from the battles he fought, offers once more to heal the patient. He knows the body's inner weaknesses, the bloodstream of mistrust, the infections caused by hypocrisy, and the silent killers that seep in from complacency and betrayal. He offers his expertise, his proven resilience, and his loyalty.

But the carers, those who for years played the role of self-appointed guardians, have other plans. They look at Delia and feel uneasy. They fear him because he exposes their comfort zones. He threatens their ability to manipulate the patient's possessions while he fights to make the patient independent and strong again. They do not want a full recovery if that recovery means losing their control. So instead, they look for a new face, a budding and inexperienced specialist they can control with ease. Someone who will not question them, someone who will allow them to continue their games in the shadows while pretending the patient is under the best care available.

The carers tell the world that this is progress. They say they are giving the patient fresh hope, fresh blood, youthful energy. But in truth, they are repeating the same fatal mistake. Instead of seeing the patient as a life to be saved, they treat them as a possession. They look for someone who will keep them comfortable, rather than someone who can restore strength and health. They refuse to accept that no fresh face will succeed if the carers themselves continue to suffocate the cure.

The patient needs a bold specialist who knows the history of the illness, who has survived the pain of betrayal, and who can apply the right treatment without fear of the loud complaints from those who thrive on the weakness of the one they claim to love. Here, Adrian Delia is offering a specific solution to the problem. His experience, his scars, and his resilience form the strongest medicine the party can hope for. To reject him now means condemning the patient to more years of suffering on the sickbed, with carers rearranging the pillows and adjusting the sheets while the illness eats deeper into the body.

The story of the Nationalist Party since 2013 is not the story of a patient without a cure. It is the story of carers who never trusted the right doctor. It is the story of a body weakened not by disease alone, but by sabotage from within. Every failed cure was not the fault of the specialist alone, but of the environment in which they forced him to work. The PN does not lack a remedy. It lacks the humility to allow the remedy to take effect.

If the carers once again block the path of genuine recovery and hand the patient to an inexperienced apprentice who still needs to learn the basics of medicine, the decline will continue. The patient may breathe, but only because the drip still runs. Life will linger, but no cure will take hold. And those carers will look on, pretending to weep over the patient they secretly condemned, while they quietly hold on to what they really value-the keys to the drawers, the control of the belongings, and the illusion of guardianship.

History will record that the patient could have stood up, walked again, and regained strength. But those who had the duty to help chose instead to prolong the sickness, because a weak patient suited their interests more than a strong one.

The PN does not need another experiment, another trial on the already fragile body. It needs a serious cure, and only a doctor who knows both the illness and the sabotage of the carers can deliver it. It is Adrian Delia who stands as a representative of that cure. The carers can either let him work or condemn the patient to a slow death masked by shallow reassurances and cosmetic comfort.

The course of action involves our deciding at this very moment. The patient deserves life, not endless life support.