For the past few days Labour ministers, MPs and party officials have been tripping over each other to shower praise on Prime Minister Robert Abela for his six years at the helm. The choreography has been unmistakable. Photographs posted to underline personal proximity to the leader, lists of achievements circulated across social media, glowing tributes that read more like campaign leaflets than political commentary. What is equally unmistakable is what is missing: any reference to the many missteps, reversals and controversies that have dotted Abela's tenure.

This is not just the usual political flattery that accompanies any leader's anniversary, which culminated in a hugely promoted event held last Friday. It has the look and feel of a coordinated effort to prop up a leader whose image, for whatever reason, no longer seems to sell itself. That, in itself, is revealing.

The contrast with Joseph Muscat is striking. Muscat remained Labour's undisputed hero even at his weakest moments. Even when his government was engulfed by scandal, there was no need for Labour to mount a personality campaign to keep him aloft. His authority within the party and his appeal to the electorate were taken for granted. He eventually resigned not because he had lost Labour's love, but because the political and moral pressure had become unsustainable.

With Abela it is different. Labour feels compelled to push its leader in a way it never did with Muscat. That alone prompts some uncomfortable questions.

There is also an irony in the timing. Abela is approaching a milestone that, until recently, belonged to Muscat. By this autumn he will have been prime minister longer than Muscat ever was. Muscat's time in office amounted to six years and nine months, having cut short his first term and resigned midway through the second. Abela will soon pass that mark and will be heading into an election campaign as Labour's longest-serving prime minister since Dom Mintoff.

If longevity were the same as political strength, Abela would be unassailable. But longevity can just as easily breed fatigue. That is why Labour appears to believe he needs "boosting" now, not later.

The effort is all the more jarring because it comes against the backdrop of unresolved issues that directly touch on Abela's credibility. The prime minister continues to refuse to publish ministers' asset declarations, a basic requirement of transparency. Less than three weeks into the New Year he has already been reprimanded by the Standards Commissioner for this failure. In any healthy political culture, that would dominate the conversation. Instead, it is being drowned out by choreographed praise. None of the posts mentioned the country's spiralling debt, lack of good governance and accountability, over-population issues, and disregard of the environment.

Then there is the curious episode of last week's Facebook cover image, which flooded social media feeds. Two hands, pinkie fingers extended, reaching out to each other in a gesture meant to suggest that the government is there for you and keeps its promises. The symbolism was meant to be warm and reassuring. In practice, it came across as awkward, even patronising. It implied a relationship of dependence: the government as the benevolent provider, the citizen as the grateful recipient.

Many were reminded of Michelangelo's "Creation of Adam", with God and Adam's fingers stretching towards one another without quite touching. One hopes Labour did not intend to cast itself in the role of God, but the parallel was hard to ignore. The deeper problem is that the image encapsulated a political philosophy that has become increasingly explicit: a government that binds voters to it through handouts and favours, rather than through trust, institutions and accountability.

All of this feeds into the broader sense that Labour is now campaigning as much to shore up its own leader as to promote its record. There are several possible reasons. The Nationalist Party has a new leader who, at least for now, appears to be making inroads. An election is drawing closer. Abela's personal ratings may be slipping. Any or all of these could explain the sudden urgency.

What is harder to miss is the style of the campaign. The relentless praise, the visual symbolism, the insistence on projecting closeness between the leader and the people have an oddly authoritarian flavour. They recall political systems where the leader must constantly be put on display because his legitimacy needs constant reinforcement.

This is a risky strategy. Voters are not blind to excess. When a party pushes its leader this hard, people start asking why. If Abela were genuinely secure in his position, such a heavy-handed effort would not be necessary. The attempt to manufacture enthusiasm can easily slide into the appearance of desperation.

In the end, leadership is not built by Instagram posts or carefully crafted graphics. It is built by credibility, transparency and a sense that the rules apply to everyone, including those in power. Until Abela is willing to meet those basic tests - starting with something as elementary as publishing ministerial assets - no amount of online adulation will compensate.

Labour may believe that selling Robert Abela more aggressively will protect it as the election approaches. It may find, instead, that it has only drawn attention to the very doubts it is trying to conceal.