As Malta moves closer to a general election, the tone of public discourse is becoming as important as the policies being debated. Robust disagreement is the lifeblood of a democratic society. Competing visions, clashing priorities, and passionate arguments are not only inevitable but necessary. Yet there is a clear distinction between forceful debate and corrosive personal attack. When political speech slides into insult, character assassination, and insinuation, it crosses a red line that damages both democracy and society.
In this context, the recent words of Archbishop Charles Scicluna deserve careful attention beyond the confines of the Church. Speaking during a pontifical Mass for the feast of Saint Paul, the Archbishop warned against false accusations, slander, and hasty judgment, urging people to become "agents of truth and not agents of lies". His reflection on the biblical episode of the viper that seized Paul's hand after the Apostle's shipwreck offers a powerful metaphor for our times.
In the Acts of the Apostles, the Maltese initially assume that the snake must be an instrument of divine justice, proof that Paul is a murderer who deserves punishment. When Paul calmly shakes the viper into the fire and suffers no harm, the accusation collapses. What had been taken for justice is revealed as injustice. The Archbishop's point is stark: wrongful judgments often disguise themselves as moral certainty. They wear the language of righteousness while inflicting the damage of falsehood.
This lesson has particular relevance for politics. Public figures wield influence far beyond that of ordinary citizens. Their words shape not only headlines but also social norms. When politicians model restraint, respect, and accuracy, they help cultivate a healthier civic culture. When they indulge in ridicule, innuendo, and personal vilification, they license the same behaviour across society. The boundary between acceptable criticism and abusive rhetoric becomes blurred, and eventually erased.
It is therefore not enough for politicians to demand civility from voters. They must be the first to demonstrate it. Leadership is not merely about advancing one's own agenda; it is also about setting standards. Treating opponents with dignity does not weaken an argument. On the contrary, it strengthens it by shifting attention to ideas, evidence, and solutions rather than personalities. Politicians who rely on insult signal a lack of confidence in the power of their own proposals.
The danger is magnified in the age of social media. Platforms reward speed, outrage, and simplification. A careless comment can travel across the country in seconds, detached from context and inflated by repetition. Algorithms tend to prioritise content that provokes strong emotional reactions, meaning that anger and contempt are often more visible than reasoned discussion. This creates an environment in which extreme language is not only tolerated but incentivised.
Politicians, like ordinary users, are immersed in this ecosystem. Many use social media as a primary communication tool, bypassing traditional media filters and speaking directly to supporters. This has advantages, including greater accessibility and immediacy. But it also carries risks. Posts written in haste, or designed to provoke, can escalate tensions and harden divisions. A sarcastic remark or mocking meme may generate online applause, yet it contributes to a broader culture of disrespect.
Citizens are not innocent bystanders in this process. Comment sections beneath political posts often become arenas for abuse rather than dialogue. It is common to see thoughtful statements met not with counter-arguments, but with personal insults, crude stereotypes, and questioning of motives. Over time, this dynamic discourages participation by those who value respectful exchange. The loudest and most aggressive voices come to dominate, giving the false impression that hostility represents the majority view.
The cumulative effect is a coarsening of public life. When politics is experienced primarily as a series of confrontations, trust in institutions weakens. People begin to assume bad faith as the default. Every proposal is interpreted through a lens of suspicion. Compromise, which is essential in any pluralistic society, is recast as betrayal. In such a climate, governing becomes more difficult, regardless of which party is in power.
As election campaigning intensifies, voters will hear countless promises and accusations. Some scrutiny is necessary; those who seek power must expect to be questioned. But there is a difference between holding someone accountable and attempting to destroy their reputation through insinuation or exaggeration. The former strengthens democracy. The latter corrodes it.
Citizens, too, have choices to make. We decide what we share, what we like, and what we amplify. We can pause before reposting an unverified claim or joining an online pile-on. We can ask whether a comment contributes to understanding or merely adds another layer of noise. These small decisions, multiplied across thousands of users, shape the tone of the national conversation.
Ultimately, however, the greatest responsibility rests with those who seek to lead. They enjoy larger platforms and greater visibility. Their behaviour sets the benchmark. If they choose to elevate discourse, others are more likely to follow. If they choose to descend into abuse, they should not be surprised when the same language is turned against them.
The choice, as the Archbishop noted, is ours: to treat the viper as an agent of justice or to recognise it as an agent of injustice and throw it into the fire. Malta's political class should take the lead by rejecting the politics of venom and embracing a politics of substance. Democracy deserves nothing less.