Categories
Politics

the edge of politics

LA FEMME NUE DANS LE DESERT-1 There was a time when this blog would devour any news political coming out of the island in a voracious manner. Analyse, chew, criticise and expect viral reaction. Or so went the music and momentum. It’s hard to put your finger on the moment when you stop caring so deeply – for want of a better description. The irony is that what goes by the name of politics in the republic has followed the most predictable path foreseen by this blog from the very earliest of musings. The phrases “race to the bottom” and “battleground of mediocrity” had become a cliche in these columns long before the realisation dawned in other observatories.

There is little or no comfort in having been right though. With clockwork regularity every stroke and news item from the political milieu seems to confirm even the wildest of suspicions that we may have had as to the heartless direction that political representation could have taken. The blatant cynicism of one party combined with the clueless misdirection of the other can only be fuelled by an electorate that not only hangs on dearly to a partisan vocation but also throws in a level of short-sighted calculation that baffles even the most prophetic among us.

There is a moment of realisation that the business of government still owes much to the governed. J’accuse was much enamoured with the phrase “you reap what you sow” and playing the blame game with an electorate that is often reluctant to shift the goalposts remains a sordid temptation. It’s all there to see though – as much as the “paese di coglioni” formula that remains just as apt as when it was first conjured up mid-blog. What to make of a governing party that has rewritten all the rules of the game and manages to make transparent the dirtiest truth of the political game : everybody has a price? Somewhere in the Labour unconscious lies a stock market of sorts where every shaping factor in Maltese society has a price and a trade to work upon. Morbid calculations mean that everything goes so long as the final judge and jury can remain sufficiently opiated with new age doses of newspeak.

On the other hand the party in opposition remains at sea grappling for an old fashioned tidal wave of a rallying factor that would bring it back to drier and safer ground. It’s internal conflicts and failures are evident even in what should be mini-triumphs while it has still found itself unable to redefine itself and give itself a purpose. The opposition runs the risk of being stuck in opposition mode (and it is not even there yet) for a long while to come. It finds the new playing ground a very uneven place to work and is still unaccustomed to the shifted goalposts. This is not about shifting to trendier liberal stances but about being a more congruent, consistent whole once again. Without that newfound centre of gravity it is destined to play second fiddle to the puppet master’s shenanigans.

Right now, in what should be an important maturing point for the young republic, non-partisan observers have been pushed to the edge of politics. I like to think of this as our moment out in the desert in the manner of the prophets of the old book. The current order is a disaster in the waiting. Policies of appeasement and populism are destined to fail in the long run and there is only so many hacks at its breast that the golden goose can take.

In the meantime we observe the events unfold. At the edge of politics.

Categories
Constitutional Development

United Civics

From the moment you step off the plane and go through the average two and a half hours of immigrant screening attrition at whatever “port of call” you have reached you begin to realise that the United States of America is a rather peculiar entity that will be hard to emulate for any newborn federation in the future. Admittedly the chances of a similar structure finding its roots in the Old Continent are currently wallowing at their lowest and the surge of nationalism and mistrust of supranational entities goes no small way to creating such an infertile ground.

Looking at the US from the inside though you begin to notice that there is a clear distinction between what would be described as nationalist sentiment and culture in Europe on the one hand, and the allegiance to the national democratic system and structure on the other. You see it on a daily basis. There was no better way to experience this than an early evening stroll through (the safer part of) Williamsburg in Brooklyn. Passing by a pharmacy with a distinctly Italian name I overheard a conversation between a couple of young brats which was more of a verbal sparring match as to the veracity of their Italianite ethnicity.

“You’re not a Caprese, you’re married into the Capreses” sounded like a minor stain on the curriculum vitae of the recipient of this tirade. “I’m as Italian as you guys, no doubt” was the feeble reply. A few blocks down the local parish had an Easter ceremony in full swing. I recognised the rite from my days as an altar boy, only there now seemed to be quite a few altar girls too all dressed up for the occasion. “Ca existe encore? Les enfants de choeur?” quizzed my Belgian travel mates. Apparently these traditions and cultural stamps survived longer in Brooklyn than in Liege and Bruxelles.

Whenever you interact in New York you inevitably end up talking ethnicity and origin. A bona fide New Yorker will sell you the tickets to Woodbury Common but he’ll proudly tell you that he is Ghanaian “et c’est pour ca qu’il parle francais“. Equally bona fide (read that bonafied if you want to sound American) is the security guy posted at Times Square. Equally proud of being of West african descent. How many times did I hear “sei Italiano?” on my trip – in an attempt to find a common cultural ground from which to embark on social niceties.

Walk through Chinatown and you get to understand how you can live in the US as a fully grafted export of any world culture. You live, eat, enjoy and speak your own nationality, food, traditions and language. Don’t even get me started on the Latino. It’s all over the place.

And yet there is a beautiful symbiotic conviviality going on. You cannot miss the multiple expressions of allegiance – to the civic structure that surrounds. The Americans have turned the law into a fine art to the point of being finicky. Everything is calculated by entitlement in this nation that was founded on a Bill of Rights. The formula is weird but works fantastically. So when you do stand up at the Yankee Stadium (Ladies and Gentlemen please rise and take off your hats for the national anthem) you understand how the glue that keeps together so many differences is all in the patriotic pride enshrined in a democratic system of rule of law.

It’s how the slightly irritating habits of the multiple ethnicities become a reality. It’s how they can forget about still being Italian, Puerto Rican, German, Ghanaian, Kenyan, Spanish the moment the first notes are played. It’s how they forged an error-riddled system that works.

It’s how this becomes the land of the free and the home of the brave.

 

Categories
Arts

Adult Entertainment (ars gratia artis)


phallus_akkuza

The MADC has just ended a run of Elaine May’s Adult Entertainment – a play that centres around a group of porn actors and their efforts to write their own scripts. Porn was never an easy subject to broach, particularly in a community where the words “tightly-knit”, “gossip” and “moral indignation” stick out like ugly sores on the face of any possible semblance of liberal independence.

Unfortunately, I was not able to view any of the MADC performances and so I am unable to tell you whether the MADC troupe carried the play better than most other performances worldwide that did not seem to attract very good reviews (though apparently May’s script might have a lot to answer for that). What I am sure of is that once the MADC actors (and may I emphasise the Amateur – as in not professional – in that acronym) shed their characters’ masks and stopped living the porn dream in those moments of suspended reality, they returned to being very normal (or rather, very complex) human beings. In all probability they go about their different jobs and lives with the same clumsy haphazardness as you or I might.

Once their make-make up levels are reduced to “time for a selfie in aid of cancer research”, the actors stop being actors. They stop being porn stars who supposedly won prizes for “Best Anal” and become executives, salesemen, insurance brokers, managers or teachers. Some might even double up giving a hand in drama school imparting some of the experience they might have gained on stage to young(er) hopefuls.

I do say shed. In our tiny world though, where the aforementioned ugly warts of “gossip” and “moral indignation” run a fine thread through our social fabric, the authors might often find that their artistic exploits (or even failures) hang on to them well beyond their exit (stage left). They are shadowed by the stamp of whatever character whose shoes they might have filled for those fleeting instances on stage. This happens especially in the case of whatever goes for controversial these days – think nudity or offensive behaviour. It’s not just censorship that posed a problem to our artistic community (wherever you may think the source of that censorship may be) but also the consequences of living a life surrounded by the liberal arts. Others might not be too impressed.

Heaven forbid that your scene includes nudity or that you had to fill the shoes of a mentally depraved character. Forget the exploration of the human psyche through a literary interpretation – no, their judgement is that this is sick. Worse still, you are incurable. You may take yourself off the stage but your sickness hangs on. “Did you see him nude on stage? Was it full frontal? Did he really speak like that about wanting to kill a baby? She has no shame standing there with her knockers gazing straight at my husband – we had front row seats you know! I’m sure she/he enjoyed every second of being in that role”. It gets worse. “How could her employers keep her on after seeing her in the buff?”

Of course there is an alternative to all this madness. You could bear in mind that each and every one goes through a life that is full of ups and downs, highs and lows. Some event (or recurring event) such as a broken relationship, a death in the family, a history of abuse, domestic dissonance could end up unearthing an ugly side of a person. Life tends to throw things at us and does not discriminate between actors, local councillors or lavatory attendants. Life happens and man, being the free-thinking animal that he is, has a very complex way of dealing with such moments.

Alea iacta est, the dice are cast. Actors, plumbers, soldiers, – whoever – at some point in their life will be faced with ugly moments and difficult decisions. To link such a bad patch to a profession or a performance or more specifically to whatever mask is worn on stage is pure balderdash.

Never can a judgement be so shallow as one that reduces a person to one flat dimension, ignoring all his or her complexities and realities. Even in the legal world where a judgement must perforce be given at some point, formulae and principles have been developed in order not to judge too summarily and especially to avoid pre-judgement – and as we know, even the legal world is not infallible. It is nigh impossible to judge unless all circumstances are known and a fuller picture is to be had.

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

(Jaques in Shakespeare’s As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII)

Categories
Mediawatch

Emissions

The Times reports a PQ about emissions by vehicles. 12,529 reports were made to a dedicated number and of these only 21 failed the emissions test. Someone, somewhere, is doing something wrong. Only this week cities in Europe suffered huge hikes in pollution levels due to the anomalous weather (cold at night, warm during the day) conditions. Paris was forced to reintroduce alternate number plate circulation in order to reduce the overall amount of emissions that had reached record levels. Photos such as the one below of the Tour Eiffel enveloped in a huge cloud of pollution went viral all over the net.

627811-la-tour-eiffel-masquee-par-un-nuage-de-pollution-le-11-mars-2014-a-paris

 

A couple of days ago a report on one of the Maltese online papers mentioned that a new project in Mosta would not require too many impact studies but that a study was being drawn up as to the impact of such a project on the air. This led me to wonder why Malta gets to treat its towns and villages as though they each lay miles apart with a huge desert in between when the truth is that our tiny, densely populated, island is just one huge agglomeration. It’s not just that, last I heard there were more vehicles than persons on the island which puts the number of vehicles conservatively above the 350,000 mark. So why should only a proposed new shopping village in Mosta provoke the question of impact on the air? Where are we assuming that all the other cars will be when they are not being used for shopping in Mosta?

Luxembourg too had registered a hike in pollution levels though not at such an alarming rate as Paris. One of the reasons given for Luxembourg’s being spared the excesses is the fact that the vehicle population in Luxembourg is much more up to standard where emission levels are concerned. This is not surprising, given the high standard of living here you rarely see a car struggling to chug along while emitting all sorts of fumes. Let this not be an apologia for gas-guzzlers – no matter how up to scratch their technology is. The quicker we shift to cleaner sources of energy the better.

But that was not my point here. My point was mainly about that PQ and the fact that the figure of 21 vehicles failing the emissions test strikes me as very very wrong. As our government embarks on a project to transform the Salini coast road into a multi-lane race track you get the distinct feeling that insofar as transportation methods and environmental issues are concerned most of the planning is done by a troop of chimpanzees who have had most of their brains amputated for good measure.

Happy Saint Joseph’s Day!

Categories
Mediawatch Politics

Lidl politics

lidl_akkuzaThe new Lidl branch threw open its doors in Xewkija this weekend. The Gozitans turned up en masse – particularly after the “leak” that the first 100 customers would be able to buy a 399€ TV at the discounted price of 100€. I heard reports of traffic jams as well as unconfirmed reports of people sleeping outside the store in order to get in first on opening day. We are no longer surprised by this kind of news – Lidl knows what tickles the fancy of the Maltese public (and not just them – it’s popular across Europe) and serves it on a fake silver plate. One thing that Lidl does well is deliver. It’s not just a load of promise. It puts its money where its mouth is and gives you the bargain you go looking for.

The new generation of politicians who are currently riding the wave of discontent at the politics of austerity try their hardest to be the Lidl of the situation. They promise heaven on earth and exploit the fact that for a moment all the turkeys actually believe that Christmas can be banned. For ever. Having shed any semblance of values and principles, the key is to sell everything to everyone – at least the promise. Most of their problems begin to build up when everybody tries to cash his cheque at the same time. That is when deals with the devil end up being made – somebody somewhere must underwrite the impossible promises. And who cares if that somewhere turns out to be shaky Libyan governments, friendships with Ukrainian demi-despots on the cusp of dethronement and an opaque Chinese entity?

Italy’s young star is fading faster than Malta’s turk – mainly because the mass of critical elements in Italy work at a faster rate at exposing inconsistencies. Italy might have its share of apologists but the scam of the age of Berlusconi will not be brought up in order to justify in some way the farce that is Renzi’s new way. Malta, on the other hand, is still lost between the ridiculous statements about PN closet skeletons (tu quoque, so you have lost your right to ever speak, ever) and the ongoing finger pointing at the shamed clan who dared vote Labour for change (where are you now? No longer strutting your Taghna Lkoll Vote eh?). Everybody is guilty of something if you believe the columnists and that seems to mean that Muscat’s fairy-tale ride into the Paese dei Balocchi Yes, Muscat gets a free ride with his Bowel Movement – free of the chains of criticism, free of any form of real form of institutional accountability.

How fitting then that Renzi and Muscat, the young dreamers of Europe, can both find a link to a Disney-an utopia. Watch Marco Travaglio do just that with Renzi here.


 

Categories
Mediawatch Values

How they see dead people

death_akkuzaListening to French radio this morning (it could have been any radio really) I heard about the gigantic efforts deployed by China in order to locate the lost Malaysian airlines plane. At one point the Chinese PM was reported as saying how important it was for China to find the lost plane – because “we value human life”. I needed to stop and take this in. To me China and the Chinese government has always been a gargantuan entity that operates far beyond the value of human life. I mean this in the sense of what we have been used to read about in the news – huge projects that wipe away swathes of the population in certain regions without too much batting of eyelids.

The authoritarian attitude to human life was reflected in the run up to the Beijing  Olympics (as it has been, for what that matters, reflected in the Sochi run up as well as the Brasil World Cup). To hear the Chinese PM speak of the value of human life was new to me and a sort of reality check. Then there is the matter of the huge amount of resources being deployed (including satellites) to locate a wreck  (with all the respect that is due to those who passed away). There is a huge irony in all this – the Chinese megastate mobilising expensive resources to search for the dead because it apparently respects human life.

Taken from a wider angle there is also the matter of how long news can dwell on the death of a particular set of people because of the nature of their death – an airline tragedy – when in the event of deaths in similar numbers in other corners of the earth the news is reported as though it is routine. The currency of life and death in news value is certainly one that fluctuates.

end note: The accompanying image is a famous photo of Otto von Bismarck snapped surreptitiously while he was on his deathbed. It is believed to be one of the first paparazzo photos ever – as the morbidity of death makes the news. Read more about this here.