It’s been a great day for charity. The combined powers of PLPN have raised over half a million euros to cover the expenses of their ailing and needy houses. Who needs a law on party financing when the nation can practically give €1.50 per capita to the most needy among us? Of course that is how the PLPN fund their mini-chains of shame – also known as Archaic Party Propaganda Machines for the 21st Century. The OneTV and Net enterprises would have long shut down elsewhere but still need the emergency donations in this country of ours. For crying out loud. It’s Christmas time. We’ve repeated it every year – there is nothing more that betrays the crass insensitivity of the two political parties than this facetious appeal for funds year in year out. Thank God Joseph Muscat forwent €120,000 of honoraria ara…. I read somewhere that Dr Gonzi described the PN house as everybody’s home… a donation to PN would be like helping build one’s home. How we fail to see this as a reason to sit down and weep is beyond me.
PLPN
J'accuse: The (rising) values of salaries
With a title like that, you’d think I’m about to kick off a whole song and dance about the “living wage” and “cost of living” and whatever other index the latest fad is in that ever so exciting corner of the universe where popular (and populist) politics crosses with economics. Nae wurries, I ain’t. The pros and cons of whether a particular wage is sufficient to get along with one’s daily life are undeniably important building blocks of a right and proper political manifesto, but what concerns me here is the return of a very noxious notion in our political constellation: the comparative analysis of earnings intended for political vantage.
It all began a few weeks ago with a seemingly innocent question that has already been dealt with in a previous column. Some smart job from the Opposition benches queried how many people in the public sector earned more than the President of Malta. The problem I had with that question at that point was precisely with the “why”. I would have loved to ask the poser of aforementioned parliamentary question: “What’s your point?” My concern was that we were being presented with the gory Trojan horse that is the mother of all evils (if not mother then a not too distant relative) in Maltese mentality, one that summarily aborts any potential for progress.
In Maltese we have a word for it − “għira” − that somehow carries much more weight than “jealousy”, as used in the language of the student-rattled Charles and Camilla. It’s the għira that features in the car sticker literal translation urging readers to “Stuff Your Jealousy” − one that can be transformed into a full blown profession “għajjur” (one who is prone to be jealous). The għira is coupled with a very local version of socialist justice that is based on the premise of “if you have one then there is no reason in the world why I should not have one too”. I may be wrong but to me this is the socialism à-la-Mintoff: that scythe of socialist ignorance that culls all progress at birth in order to keep everyone equal. Equally ignorant. Equally thrifty. Equally redneck. (Bir-rispett kollu − With all due respect).
Raise your glass
We are currently living in the Age of Garfield. It’s the Age of the Fat Cats who have a bit of a problem with the għira definition of things. Most of the times that’s because the fingers of the għira-espousing population are pointed at them in the most unqualified of manners (when they are not showing them fingers of another sort). The Fat Cats are, economically speaking, at the other extreme of the political spectrum. They delude themselves that they are revitalising and regenerating a limping economy, only to slip heavily at certain moments during which they give the impression of baking pies for their own consumption.
Torn between the Fat Cat and the Mintoffian Scythe, the citizen and voter is constantly being handed rules and standards with which to assess who to trust with the reigns of governmental planning come next election. Which is where the latest fad comes in with the noise of a raucous Maltese crowd on a package tour in some market at Misterbianco (Sicily). First it sounded like a TV programme gone wrong: “Who Wants to Earn More than Malta’s President?” and now we have the Mintoffian reaction to the Fat Cat gaffe: “Who Wants to Renege on A Salary Raise this Christmas?”.
And it’s hard to guess who is the Grinch. Is it the Scrooges on the Fat Cat benches who back then, during the highest wave of the economic crisis tsunami, showed the sensitivity of a born again Christian on a Xarabank panel and voted themselves a raise? Is it the Leader of the Opposition who, once he was informed of the impending (backdated) raise was obliged to the extremes of utmost abnegation and in an ironic twist of quasi-Thatcherite repartee, declares “This man is not for selling”? Is it the press who pounced upon initiatives in foreign parliaments (notably Ireland and Czech Republic) and reported their respective decisions to REDUCE their salary in times of economic hardship?
Bad Moon Risin’
Whoever the Grinch may have been, we were suddenly transported into the realm of salary comparisons and comparatives. Now there is no doubt whatsoever in my mind that the Cabinet voting itself a raise during a period when − independently of the real economic climate − all political talk and newspeak is heavily concentrated on the notion of Hard Times is a huge faux pas for any government to commit. I also can understand Joseph Muscat’s argument of “I will not be bought”, for by including all MPs in their bumbling pay rise it is obvious that Cabinet hoped to convince the socialist progressives to keep mum thanks to the proffering of a chunk of the pie.
So let it not be said that J’accuse is here defending the timing of the salary rise per se. We do have a bone to pick though on the issue of “the values of salaries” in discussing merits and demerits. In a way, Joseph Muscat, the prime critic of the latest rise, seems to have considered this issue from a sensible vantage point when he seemed to be prepared to consider an option for MPs to choose between Part Time and Full Time. Much as I find this suggestion ludicrous, for reasons I shall explain later, it does show that for a fleeting moment Muscat was actually looking beyond the salary itself and thinking in terms of the work it justifies.
For the problem here, you see, is that I tend to view jobs on the basis of performance. On the scale of merit, performance is translated into salary and not vice-versa. You do not go out on the job market looking for a salary but you look for a job. In most cases you find that salaries are appended towards the end of a job announcement and are expressed in the form of minimum and maximum possible salary. Why? Because the salary depends on a multiplicity of criteria linked to “merit” such as education, experience and specialisation.
Rise to the occasion
Maybe I am not sufficiently clear (I admit that’s the case quite often). Just let me go back to the PQ about presidential earnings. When I ask “What’s the point?”, I mean how can the President’s salary become a standard measure to assess qualification for a job? What will we ask people who aspire to a salary that trumps that of San Anton’s resident? “Can you hop on one leg more times than George Abela?” “Can you run the mile in less time than George?” How exactly does this value of salarial comparison fit in?
According to the press, the salary of an MP post-raise will be €26,000 per annum. Shall we play the comparison game? An entry-level grade job at an EU institution (AST1) will earn around €2,500 per month in hand. By November of any given year, your average administrative assistant in an EU institution will have earned more than Karl Gouder (random MP) will earn from his parliament salary in a year. Your average employee in the EU translation services will earn around €4,500 a month (there’s a scale there too based on experience, length of service and specialisation) which puts them at around two Malta MPs worth on the socialist salary value scale.
There are enough Maltese translators in Luxembourg to be able to fill Parliament twice over. Shall we do that? After all, if they earn almost as much as two MPs put together they surely must be worth the while. Which brings me back to Joseph Muscat’s part-time/full-time dilemma. We have already experienced a national football team with a mix of pros, amateurs and part-timers, so why not a Parliament with part-timers then? Well the main point, and what nobody seems to be asking, is: “what kind of performance do we expect from our parliamentarians?”
Those great expectations
The value of salaries distracts us from this question. We discuss pounds, shillings and pence when we should be wondering whether we are being short-changed in the business of political representation. As I said on my blog, I find it easy not to be impressed by Joseph Muscat’s show of abnegation and self-denial. Whether he refuses a salary raise, or independently decides to half his current salary is of no consequence to me or any other citizen if he continues to fail to come up with concrete politics that show a new politics and direction.
It’s not the whinge of the eternal wait for a decent Opposition. It’s worse than that. This week Joseph Muscat showed us the full force of his new politics when he compared Labour’s harbouring of “capo dei capi” Gatt as a special delegate to some drug trafficker (Norman Bezzina) who was a member of a Nationalist minister’s private secretariat. As the poet sings “That’s all right, because I like the way you lie.” Next: Even Robin Hood was an outlaw.
Judging by Facebook and comments on the online news, it seems that this PLPN strategy works. They feed the minions the values with which they want us to judge them and we thankfully grovel in humble acceptance. I was expecting a movement for the beatification of Inhobbkom Joseph − our new saviour from those perfidious bumblers in government − any day now. We were dared to criticise his quasi-saintly move of sacrifice in these times of hardiness. He would not tell us to eat cake and would share humble pie around our poor man’s table. A saint before being a man.
Cut through the bullshit and the spin and you might remember that this is the man whose alternative budget leaked everywhere. The saving grace for Muscat’s alternative budget was Bondi’s hash of an unprofessional programme (the BA’s words not mine). In the short-sighted public calculation, the equation must have been simple. If Bondi was wrong then Muscat is right. Which is not the case. Yes, Bondi was unprofessional but that does not make Muscat’s alternative budget any better. It is still based on populist calculations that will not necessarily take us anywhere other than into more socialist-scythe style mire. Blessed are we to have such alternatives to the fat cats in government.
Uprisin’
And while PM Gonzi was carried aloft on the hands of our future consumers of governmental pie − those who have already been well bred to fill the ranks without nary a questioning mind − back in London students rattled and shook the car containing the heir to the realm and his madam. The surreal images of the (definitely unplanned) photo op outside Castille contrasted heavily to the rioting students in Parliament Square. They’d like to tell us that our students have it all good and that this government is still investing heavily in education.
Sure, but what values are we imparting to today’s unquestioning youth? Hold on. Maybe I know the answer to that one. If you’re going to lick and squirm your way into a job via the approved channels, make sure the salary is better than that of George Abela… and Bob’s your uncle.
Toasts
I’m raising a glass to Ronnie and Nathaniel this Sunday. Happy birthday to both. It’s the last Sunday before the Christmas holiday season really kicks in. Weather permitting (and that is half a prayer actually), the next missive will be typed from my second home in Paceville… Meanwhile I’m off to find out what Santa gets paid this Christmas.
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J'accuse : Abre los Ojos
Labour (Inhobbkom’s Labour not Ed’s New New One) is busy conferencing this weekend. They’re huddled cosily in the university’s Aula Magna for a full day of talks in a conference entitled “Revisting Labour’s History” and I still cannot get over the fact that I was unable to make it there. Yes, you read that right, I would have loved to witness at first hand this conference of sorts that is part of the wider Labour strategy of “Re-”s. They’re re-visiting their history, re-inventing their logo, re-gurgitating old economic principles, re-moving their facial hair and (once again) re-cycling an image that has been a work in progress since is-Salvatur ta’ Malta went into re-tirement (never a minute too late).
There’s something manifestly wrong in the way Labour went about this whole “re-” business though, and this weekend’s conference contains some clear pointers to what that could be. Someone, somewhere is guilty of a gross miscalculation when choosing the title first of all: “Revisiting Labour’s History”. It’s the political equivalent of a Freudian slip combined with all the evident trappings of a modern day “Pimp my Party” in the making. The term “revisit” is a few letters away from becoming “revise” and I have a hunch that this is not a small coincidence.
In legal terms, when a court revisits an earlier decision it normally does so because of the necessity of reinterpreting the earlier position – there would be not other reason to revisit and reopen the case. In historical terms there is another “re-” word that is of relevance here. It’s the idea of revisionism. Revisionism need not always be extreme as in holocaust denial. Reading through the agenda of this weekend’s conference, I couldn’t help but think that Labour is sorely tempted to rewrite some chapters of history of its own. They’ve been at it for a while now and we have all become used to the polyphonic history of our islands – whether it is sung by Mary Spiteri to the tunes of Gensna or whether it is yelled from the pedestals of il-Fosos by the latest crowd-stirring nationalist orator – the messages are always excitingly dissonant and cacophonous: the result of two virtual realities and perceptions colliding.
Rapid eye movement
The political audience is already, as it is, doomed to the regular resurrection of revisited myths and legends in our political discourse. The narratives woven by opposing parties are now firmly ingrained in our collective minds and it is hard to reasonably detach from them completely. It is extremely significant that, bang in the middle of the process of change and reinvention, Labour chose to “revisit” its history and discuss, among other things: “The Worker Student Scheme: 1978-1987”. As I type (11.30am, Saturday, 2 October), Peter Mayo is about to launch into an explanation of how Great Leader Mintoff (May God Give Him Long Life and Order a Hail of Stones on All His Evil Wishers) sowed the seeds of the stipend system and how we must be eternally grateful for his insights that allowed us to progress to a university accepting 3,000+ freshers this year.
The irony will be lost on the listeners sitting in that cosy hall of the Aula Magna on the 2nd of October 2010 that 33 years and one day before this the atmosphere in that very same place would best have been described as tensely electric. I wonder whether Peter Mayo will stop for a moment to explain to the young listeners (I’d imagine a Nikita Alamango fawning in the audience – one who according to her latest Times “blog” post cannot stand the PN reminders of the past) that on the 3rd October 1977 the opening ceremony at university featured heavy protests by the medical students who had just been shut out of the course (and always risked brutal cancellation if the thugs decided that it was open day at Tal-Qroqq).
Sure, it was not yet 1978 so it might (just) be beyond Peter Mayo’s remit. He will be forgiven therefore for not reminding those present that only two days later, on 5 October 1977, the man dubbed as is-Salvatur tal-Maltin would walk past a group of students chained to the railings in Castille oblivious to the fact that his government’s decisions in the educational sector (the much lauded Worker Student Scheme) were about to deny thousands of young people the path to tertiary education and send them abroad in droves.
Remember, remember the 5th of October
To be fair to Peter Mayo he probably couldn’t dare criticise the workings of the Great Leader. Not after a wonderful morning discussing his battles with the church in the sixties and his “electrifying” speeches to the proletariat. The electric effect Mintoff and his handymen had on some parts of the population would best be described as “shocking” actually. Whatever you may think of Labour’s dim-witted purposive ignorance of the past and bulldozering of historic relevance, don’t you for one moment run away with the idea that it is only the party of Joseph, Evarist (Bartolo – of removed stipends fame) and Alfred (Sant – of interview boards at university) who is in the business of revising historical facts.
You see, I sympathise with such Young Turks as Nikita Alamango who are frustrated at having to carry the burden of Labour’s past every time they squeak a new idea or criticise the current regime (sorry – did I say regime? – it’s the “Re” word fixation). Hell, this week even the German Republic paid the final instalment in World War I Reparations (started paying in 1919 and was suspended as long as Germany was split). Ninety-two years on and the German conscience is slightly freer – so why not Labour? Most times they are right. PN lackeys all too often emerge from the primordial slew of infertile political ground and rely on historical mudslinging for want of a better argument.
The problem I have with Labour is twofold – disputing the relevance of past actions is one thing. Revising (sorry, revisiting) them is another. Revisiting them on the anniversary of events that marked the watershed of Old Labour’s hopeless politics of the late 70s is insulting – insulting not just to the PN hardliners but also to neutral observers like myself who can see through the charade. Labour cannot expect this to go unnoticed. It is strategically stupid and politically insensitive. It does not stop at conferences: Recently, someone from Labour’s “think-tank” (IDEAT) was busy on Facebook quoting a party press release which stated that the current government’s agreements with China are a confirmation of the Labour vision of the seventies. Sit down and weep.
Virtually real
Mine is not simply an angry case of indignation though. Labour’s Revisionist Conference is part of a wider mentality that is the inner workings and thinking of the two major parties in this country. In this day and age of multimedia and mass communication, the modes of communication might be evolving at such a rapid pace that we will soon be tweeting in our sleep, but there is one basic constant whether it’s TV, radio, newspaper or Internet and that constant is the word. In principio stat verbum (in the beginning was the word) and it’s going to be with us for a long time yet.
Words and their meaning are at the basis of whatever construction of reality we choose to live in. Einstein once stated that reality is an illusion but a very good illusion at that. The PLPN (un)wittingly engage in a constant battleground of establishing the reality in which we live (and that is why they NEED the media influence). Whether we are considering the “cost of living”, the “minimum wage” or the “living wage”, we sometimes fail to notice that a large number of constants that we take for granted in these arguments are the fruit of elaborate definitions of perception suited to whatever party is making its claim. We are not that dopey really – there is a general acceptance that “parties colour the world as best they see it”, and although as a nation we struggle to come to terms with irony and sarcasm we still manage to joke about the PL-PN chiaroscuro worlds.
I am not sure however about how much the electorate is in control of the button that switches us between perception and reality. How capable are we of switching off the virtual reality and putting our foot down when we believe that things have been taken too far? Can we decide when we want to open our eyes? Are we, like the character in Almodovar’s Abre Los Ojos (open your eyes – spoiler warning) still able to opt out of the programme that creates a “lucid and lifelike virtual reality of dreams” and yell that enough is enough? Worse still – have the very parties that are responsible for the manufactured realities that we inhabit become so embroiled and enmeshed in them that they are unable to find the switch themselves?
Denial
Take the Nationalist Party. They are an incredible subject for this sort of test. This week they engaged in a mind-boggling collective exercise of denial of truths. We had Minister Tonio Fenech and his cataclysmic Tax-Free Maid slip. Watching The Times interview that gave Tonio a chance to right his previous wrongs was like watching an exercise in verbal prestidigitation featuring a ministerial equivalent of the Mad Hatter. Quizzed on VAT he replied on Stamp Duty and vice-versa, and then went on a trip about not having to answer about private affairs that he himself had brought up as a public example. You could only squirm in your seat as you watched Tonio attempt to make his statements vanish into thin air. Apologists tried other tactics – the cream of the crop coming from the Runs claiming that since the law is inadequate then Tonio and his maid are right in not following it to the letter. Perception? Forget the doors… they’ve swallowed the key.
Meanwhile El Supremo del Govermento was busy wearing the party hat, having been asked to pass summary judgement on the PBO-VAT saga. Prime Minister Lawrence Gonzi found absolutely nothing incongruous with the fact that his very exacting sec-gen failed to apply his own standards of political propriety when faced with a legal crisis of his own. Same same but different – just like in the alleyways in Thailand when they sell fake brands. Fake – it’s just an illusion of reality but not exactly so.
As if PBO and Tonio were not enough, we also had the DimechGate spin-off in the form of the uncomfortable presence of Robert Arrigo – the last of the disgruntled backbenchers. PN councillor Yves Cali was the latest to slip in a frank interview with The Times in which he more than just alleged that Arrigo was in the business of throwing his weight around the council to get what he wants. Yves (or Bobby) tried to retract his statement so an irritated Times published a transcript of the interview in which the allegations were made. A transcript – that’s a word for word proof that the statements were made. Quizzed about this, Paul Borg Olivier (fresh from his own reality check) came up with the quote of the week by insisting that the transcript published by The Times was “not faithful to the statement of clarification made by Yves Cali”.
Open your eyes
Take your time and read that short, Orwellian PBO phrase. If ever there was an example of the convoluted logic somersaults performed by parties to twist your perception of reality, here it was.
The transcript (a text bearing witness to reality at its crudest) was not faithful to the statement of clarification (an attempt at revising/reinterpreting that reality). And which reality does PBO want you to believe? No prizes for guessing.
We need to open your eyes. This is a political generation that one week expresses its love for the environment on car free day while parading in front of journalists using alternative modes of transportation and then, in the following week, the collective parliamentary group (PLPN) self-allocates a huge chunk of (previously pedestrian) Merchants Street for reserved MP parking in connivance with the Valletta Local Council (remember Cali? “We serve our MPs and Labour serve theirs”). The excuse? It will free up more parking for residents and visitors. Park and Ride anyone?
It’s time we opened our eyes – and remember, sometimes actions speak louder than words.
www.akkuza.com would like to congratulate Toni Sant (and friends) for the www.m3p.com.mt project. Happy Student’s Day to you all!
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Cultivating Ignorance
If Malta wasn’t sufficiently steeped in partisan ignorance, Inhobbkom Joseph would have to invent it. His latest intervention in the light of Chris Said’s resignation does not just defy logic but it creates a whole new universe of abject insensitivity, crass opportunism and is the political equivalent of the cheap whore that nobody would pay to sleep with. Inhobbkom Joseph may (and I say may out of whatever modicum of respect is left) have the excuse of having no inkling of the law and how it works since his studies took him far far away from the logical and the rational and into the world of lies and statistics. Having said that however he is surrounded by a bunch of people who might (again might) claim to have an idea about the workings of the law them having been proferred with the dikri (and probably their sporting such dikri on a plakka outside their offices).
Inhobbkom is appalled because Gonzi’s letter accepting Said’s resignation implies a readiness to reappoint Said as PS once this is over. Inhobbkom “jinstab imhasseb” (is worried) that the letter does not leave the judiciary the necessary comfort zone of independence and burdens them with undue pressure. What should worry the electors is that here is a man who will soon be in a decision making position and is able to shoot such weighted bullshit out of his pen in order to gain political mileage. There is no other explanation. The facts of the alleged perjury are known to everyone and his brother (except… it seems… the Maltastar crowd who are intent on depicting Said as a criminal). Mr Leader of the Opposition (should I say Dr?) seems to be very willing to ignore these facts and prefers to murk the waters even more.
Who knows though? This might not be a mistaken attempt by inhobbkom but a concerted effort to sabotage the government’s workings. Given the weak stand of the perjury allegation and coupling that with the fact that Labour MP Justyne Caruana is the “politician/lawyer” handling the allegation on behalf of the supposed victim we would all be forgiven for being convinced that this is yet another Labour attempt to engage in the wrong form of politics. Inhobbkom might inflict damage to Chris Said’s reputation among his detractors but I am firmly convinced that Said will bounce back stronger than before.
Maltastar’s purposive selectivity is not the first we saw this week. The Times of Malta was equally damned when reporting the developments in the Nikki Dimech case. Given that it was reporting different witness statements it was somewhat worying that it chose to highlight the statement of the former contracts manager (the alleged perpetrator or victim of the bribe depending on who you believe) and failed to point out the alleged improper behaviour of a Member of Parliament. It was alleged that Robert Arrigo insisted on the contracts manager being compensated and also that the same Arrigo entered the council and shouted (intimidated) at one of the members. FUnny how the Times developed amnesia about these particular allegations which have as much weight as the allegations that it eventually chose to place in the headline.
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Masters of the Universe (Bruges)
Helena Dalli MP penned an article in today’s Times (Politicking in Lilliput) in which she attacked PN’s councillor Cyrus Engerer for daring to insinuate that Labour’s councillors had it in for him because he is gay. Tut tut. Here at J’accuse we can see where the Labour MP is coming from and we do not need much convincing to realise that Cyrus’ is a ploy to distract from the troubles of the ill-fated Sliema Council and PN’s participation therein. What we did not appreciate were two shots by Ms Dalli MP that had absolutely nowt to do with the issue.
Firstly, in a manner most unbecoming to a member of the house of representatives (and more becoming of certain sections of the pink blogging media), Helena of Labour takes a dig at Cyrus’ name. What has Cyrus’ name got to do with the price of fish? Unless you were to detect ancient Greek vs. Persian vs Trojan undertones the dig at Cyrus’ name is completely gratuitous. Helena then moves on for the kill. Proudly parading Labour’s credentials in the pro-gay camp Helena raps Cyrus for not realising that ’twas a Labour government that decriminalised sodomy “in the 1970s, when being gay was considered a matter of shame by many and the word pufta was used liberally and meant as an insult to homosexuals and others.” Now that’s one hell of a history lesson. The angry MP goes on:
But, then, they wouldn’t teach these things in the one-year Masters degree course in political science at the College of Europe in Bruges, would they? Although they do teach students the necessary skills to research a “fact” before making claims, as opposed to relying on gut feeling.
Say what? Now I had no idea that Cyrus Engerer also attended the college I consider to be my second Alma Mater but forgive me for feeling a tad bit involved there. Since when are the achievements (?) of a Malta Labour government of the seventies in the field of sodomy an important part of the syllabus in a Masters degree course in political science? Should we really be tut-tutting all the way to the Belfroi that the lecturers in the “one-year” (sic – as against a five year Masters I guess) course failed to examine the intricate details of Labour’s massive movement for homosexual emancipation in the seventies?
Forgive me Helena but much as I may agree with you on the whole Cyrus charade and deviating tactics you really have shot yourself in the foot on this one. Labour might have come up with decriminalising sodomy in much the same manner and habit as PLPN have of legislating the obvious 50 or so years too late but Labour is also the same party whose secretary general was overheard describing a (I have to say this) “talk show host” as “Pufta” over the mic during a public meeting. That was early in the twenty first century not late in the twentieth. I doubt whether rights of homosexual persons have really been so well championed by the nouveau PL – and I sincerely doubt that any of the truck riding, violence distributing, hell raising bastards let lose in Mintoff’s era were in touch with their feminine side by the way.
As for Bruges. It really tickles me that an exponent of the progressive moderates’ agglomeration still believes in the kind of classist bullshit which il-Perit (Rhodes Scholar by the way) had gotten us used to. I am very aware that the Bruges scholarship is currently underfire in certain quarters for other reasons that are absolutely unrelated to the academic standards. I can proudly say, for one, that I got the scholarship on my own wind without any parrini or recommendations in the background. I can also proudly claim that the Bruges experience was very much like a Saint Aloysius’ sixth form abroad – once you make it in you are left to your own devices. Simple really – by handpicking a bright bunch from the start (no modesty intended – and when there are no saints pushing idiots into the system – something I cannot deny could be happening nowadays) the College of Europe needs input little else to guarantee an elevated standard. Voilà.
By misleadingly drawing the Bruges degree into your article you only succeeded in alienating your readers (at least the un-modest intelligent ones) from the main thrust of the argument. Bravo.
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Do You Feel Lucky?
Writing in yesterday’s Sunday Times, Inhobbkom Joseph told anybody who cared to listen that he was “deeply saddened” after the nation “experienced another frustrating and an-gering fireworks tragedy”. He went on to tell us that we have waited too long for legislation on fireworks and that he too lives in dread of the next explosion. It might not all boil down to Joseph’s dad being an owner of a chemical importing business (of the kind used to make fireworks) but Joseph’s Times appeal smacks of opportunism of the highest PLPN degree. While Lawrence was on radio pointing fingers at some sort of PL protectionism for the failure to regulate party funding (and PL answered with their own dose of just as predictable finger pointing) Joseph had a little problem.
He had to look like he was in favour of taking action against the irrational way in which the whole firework industry is managed and run. We are used to Inhobbkom’s reactions now – the moment public feeling is on a high about something, Joseph is quick to leap onto the bandwagon and tell us how he feels and empathises with the people’s situation. He then promises some form of knee-jerk legislation that might (only might) solve the problem. In this case though there are too many ties that bind him to the situation. The ugliest tie of them all, and the most difficult one to shake off will undoubtedly remain his dad’s business. There’s no two ways of going about it. Now J’accuse was among the first to insist that Joseph should NOT be held responsible for his father’s deeds and actions. In saying that we do not even intend to imply in any way that Muscat Senior is responsible in any way for what has been happening.
We are bound however, to take the role of the Senior into consideration when Junior tries to create a Private Lives of Saints moment with his parable of the old man who lost his palm saving a kid. After a lot of faff about the history of firrework legislation (probably written for Joseph not by Joseph), the Times article ends in a little parable:
I was inspired to write this article by a man who years ago at a village feast saw a young boy he barely knew parading an unignited petard which he was banging against a wall. The man lunged towards him, yelling at the boy to stop what he was doing because the firework may go off. He managed to seize the petard. As soon as he did so, it ignited. The boy was unhurt. The man lost part of his right palm.
Had the man failed to act, the young boy would have lost his arm, his eyes, possibly his life.
During his long term in hospital, the man, a humble salesman who earned a living from writing and carrying boxes, learnt to write with his left hand and how to handle things with his disabled body part. Years of practice led him to re-learn writing with his right hand.
He never complained, always feeling it was his duty to save the young boy, whom he did not know, and he would undoubtedly do the same again. That man was my father.
You might be moved to empathise with the father – and indirectly with the loving son who is being “martyred” by the spin in cerrtain quarters. We are not. To us this parable is equivalent to the story of the weapons dealer who walks in on a kid playing with a pistol and ends up getting shot while wrestling the pistol from the kids’ hand. We could come up with many more distressing stories of the kind but the end game is really not that difficult to perceive. Even in Joseph’s parable the danger is not represented by the child but by the petard. The petard is a dangerous product whether or not it is manufactured under the right conditions. The point at issue in Malta right now is whether the country can afford protracting its lackadaisical approach to the whole matter.
That Joseph has such close ties to the firework industry is unfortunate. That he tries to turn this tie into some story of a martyr and a saint instead of coming clean about his ties is even worse. The same goes for each and every MP and politician who is into the clans of firework enthusiasts and festa committees up to his neck. MaltaToday have published a list of these MPs (well done sleuths – still waiting for newspaper version though). That these clans of enthusiasts might operate with the illegal secrecy of weapons dealers might not have been any clearer had not the Malta Independent on Sunday broken the news that there actually were witnesses of the Gharb explosion but they are refusing to speak.
We have Joseph coming up with biblical parables worthy of George Preca, we have a body of MPs torn between the votes of the faithful and reasonable action and we have an industry worth millions of euros and thousands of votes that seems to be reistant to all forms of intervention.
In wondering whether we need new regulation politicians just need to ask themselves one question:
“Do I feel lucky?… Well do you, punk?”
