In 2019, when Adrian Delia was still a democratically-elected PN leader, his message to the Nationalists was concise and very clear: "We can't be arrogant or believe we have some divine right to rule". Unfortunately, he was hardly given enough chance to turn such an inviting message into reality. Ironically, it was that same kind of arrogance practiced on him by in-party factions that ultimately was responsible for his ouster.
Fast forward to 2022, and we had Prime Minister Robert Abela adopting a humble tone in his election victory speech, pledging not to "tolerate any arrogance" with anyone. He further promised that humility will characterise this legislature.
Both of our main political parties miserably failed in their commitment to wipe out arrogance from how politics is made in this small country of ours. Indeed, they did not fail despite any noble intentions they might have had; rather, they went all out to rule and impose their arrogance on anyone standing in their way.
This is how it has always been and will remain. That is, unless and until the country's situation becomes so critical that the need is felt to somehow defuse political arrogance.
Intellectual humility is a time-honoured virtue we have not yet learned to cultivate, and it is one that's so vital to healthy democratic politics.
When are we going to grow fed up with watching the warm glow in our politicians' faces of being certain that their political views are correct? When are we going to stop experiencing the thrill of the perfectly formulated gotcha question? I, for one, have had enough of following leading politicians exuding the combined feelings of fury and astonishment that their political adversaries could be so stupid, so evil and so misguided.
Believing that one's political opponents are either deluded or trying to cause harm destroys the trust on which civil society depends. It wrecks politics and political discussion. It weakens our intellects. It distorts the mission of higher education. It threatens family life. It ends friendships.
We live in the age of arrogance, an unforgiving, intolerant, anger-stoked age of entrenched confirmation bias across groups and of constantly alleged binary political choices in which your position is entirely wrong and mine is entirely right.
It is mind-boggling how a majority electorate can find a political candidate authentically appealing even though he is a lying demagogue.
Our current political polarisation might indicate the diffuse existence of political heresy, that is, the elevation of incomplete truth to the dogmatic status of complete truth, with all of the distorting and destructive effects to which the absolutization of a limited perspective is liable.
Our country suffers from a lack of political knowledge. Let's face it, a Nationalist, Labourite or voter in any political party can't possess a significant level of knowledge of facts that would help their party secure or maintain political power. We have virtually no means of acquiring political information except by believing what other people, mainly politicians, say.
When people start talking about politics, they become highly unreliable. They're very likely to say false things when voicing political opinions because they employ a belief-forming process that psychologists call "identity-protective cognition." This is a type of reasoning aimed not at the truth but at preserving one's membership in some identity-defining group. In combination, these two observations cast serious doubt on all of our political beliefs.
This state of affairs contrasts starkly with what our Constitution lays down. Our Constitution guarantees the tools essential for self-criticism: free speech, a free press, freedom of assembly and a safeguard against government "infallibility": freedom of religion.
But in my view, even with the Constitution, Maltese politics are still not nearly self-critical enough.
We are still in thrall to a false self-image that gives us an inflated sense of our own virtue and protects us from the painful work of self-criticism and self-correction. This virtuous self-image enshrines our right to condemn or feel superior to others and reassures us that we don't need to change.
Taking on a false self-image is the only real path to progress, but it is a dangerous path for a public figure. When a leader challenges a society's sense of its own virtue, it stirs up fury.
Our nation's or society's false self-image has always been a variation on that theme, and many past successful politicians have mastered the art of feeding it. They repeated, in one form or another, the things one must say: "We are a great nation and a great people: good, courageous, caring, wise, hard-working, generous and just."
There is nothing wrong with these assertions in themselves. They are sometimes true. But when they form the core of a false self-image, such flattering affirmations suddenly become always true and never to be challenged. That self-image then sets the boundaries of permissible public debate.
If facts contradict the conceit, the facts must be denied. If individuals contradict it, they must be denounced and forced to apologise. The politicians who defend the false self-image pose as patriots, but their patriotism can turn dangerous.
Proposing minor remedies for big problems feeds the false self-image of greatness. This approach of tiny remedies for big problems is not just part of our politics. It's part of our culture.
As long as we demand that politicians flatter us about how great we are, we are forcing them to downplay both our problems and the difficulty of the solutions, and that puts the country in danger.
Dr Mark Said is a lawyer