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J’accuse : Pride and prejudice revisited

The Statue of Liberty turned 125 last Friday. Back in 1896, the French government donated the statue to the people of America and “Liberty” soon became an iconic symbol and gateway to the land of opportunity for thousands of migrants that reached the shores of the United States in the last century. Events closer to home this week made me wonder whether we should have our own statue in Malta. Actually, make that two statues − you know how it is in this country − you need to have a black and a white side to every opinion… so you probably will need two statues too.

This week we had the Independence Day celebrations. It had not been hard to predict that the build-up of news about Malta’s valiant efforts in assisting our Libyan brothers was aimed at boosting the feel-good factor that is normally associated with the 21st September speeches from the podia at il-Fosos. The event came and went, and the PN leaders duly delivered. We had a new message: “Pride”. We should be proud to form part of this nation that against all adversity has assisted the injured and wounded in Libya. In one evening’s speech, the six-month long hesitation whether or not to back the rebels was washed away. The image of the injured Shwegya became the 21st century equivalent of the proud Maltese helping the shipwrecked Saint Paul.

They tell me that our prized tapestries are being restored in Belgium right now. In the past, tapestries were used to tell the story of some national epic or narrative. They would boost the pride of the tapestry owners – sometimes free cities of the merchant north. Our political writers with a strong PLPN bias weave our modern day histories into special tapestries. Only this time the actors did not quite fit the bill. While the yarn of “proud and charitable” Malta was being spun in some places, the acts of the citizens elsewhere told a very different story. Two stories actually … a black one and a white one that should earn us the two statues I mentioned earlier.

The black − No to injured Libyans

The first sabotage attempt at undermining GonziPN’s efforts to weave a new heroic story into the tapestry of our PLPN history books came from an unexpected source. The (very Christian) spokesperson of Malta’s Union of Nurses (and Midwives) complained that Mater Dei has enough on its hands as it is and does not need to play nurse to any injured Libyans. Paul Pace, head of the MUMN told the government that “bigger countries with more facilities should address such problems”. Boom goes GonziPN’s plans of a proud nation humbly serving the weak and the injured. Bang goes any semblance of pride. Incidentally, don’t hold your breath for a Joseph Muscat position on this mess by the way. It’ll be more like a free vote − otherwise he’ll either have to criticise MUMN (read votes) for their tunnel vision or he’ll have to criticise Gonzi’s plans thus losing cred on his “I love New Libya” mantra.

As for the proud nation sticking its neck out for others, the best source to tap the pulse of the nation remains the online comment boards. Here is a Ms Maria Vella writing in The Times: “Let us stop being all politically correct and call a spade a spade! Mr Pace did not beat around the bush and stated the situation as it is. We have enough Maltese patients (who pay taxes and contribute towards the running of this hospital) waiting for treatment, in corridors or at home, or even worse sent home because of lack of space but we find place and resources to treat foreigners. Whilst my sympathies go to the injured Libyans, charity should begin at home!” Now there’s a thought Mr Prime Minister. A sympathy card to Libya and that’s that. Where’s Tonio Borg when you need him? So the first statue, possibly at the entrance to Grand Harbour should be pointing our unwanted immigrants back home. Let’s call him Charity. I can picture the colossus standing with the two faces of hypocrisy as his outstretched hand ends in a finger pointing out to sea. In his other hand he sports a colander and a flag of the nation he calls home.

The white − yes to rich magnates

The second sabotage attempt comes from an unexpected source. Writing in The Times of Malta, property developer and estate agent Frank Salt describes the new conditions for obtaining a residency in Malta as “a large hammer being used to crack a delicate egg”. Apparently, the new conditions for your average Russian euro-burner to settle down in Malta are “very complicated, extraordinarily expensive, virtually prohibitive” − dixit Frank. It seems that the developers’ apple cart has been upset:

Here’s Mr Salt’s angry question: “Was it sensible for the authorities to continue to allow new building developments specifically targeted at potential new foreign buyers, to sprout up all over our Islands, when they knew that they were about to unload this bombshell, that would and could, and no doubt will, upset the whole apple cart?”

And the property developers are angry. They’re angry at the government that encouraged them to develop land to sell it off to non-EU citizens (not injured Libyans mind you… for that we have Mater Dei) and then came up with these conditions. Here’s Frank being Frank again: “Today, the local property industry first works its backside off promoting Malta as a safe, inexpensive and pleasant place in which foreigners and their families can come and live in peace. Then, when the market gets off its feet, quality developments are built, foreign residents, permanent and temporary come to Malta to see whether they would like to live here… bang… once again it is time to mess things up.” Bang indeed.

Finally, there is the music for the environmentalist’s ear: “Now we have to see how we are going to sell the hundreds of properties that are currently on the market and those hundreds more that have new permits to build.”

I’ve got an idea for Frank if he doesn’t mind me telling him. I’m thinking that our developers could sell some of that space to … lemme see… a Qatari developer who could then invest some of his money into … hmm… a hospital.

There would be some divine justice in that wouldn’t there? An exclusive hospital built to service the wounded and injured from the Arab Spring. The developers would get their money. The nurses would get their break from the influx in Mater Dei and the government would sell this off as some smart move. Lovely no?

While he’s at it, our Qatari developer could also sponsor the second statue. This one stands across the harbour from Charity welcoming visitors with arms wide open. At his foot stand a giant-sized cash register and piggy bank. Preferably, “Opportunity” (for thusly I have named him) will be richly dressed, complete with top hat as a wannabe Mr Moneybags.

The Pride of Lions

Forget my grandiose statue building plans and just think for one moment about the realities of this island. On the one hand we have our political establishment living in an alternative world where Malta “proudly welcomed” sixteen (16) wounded Libyans. (This is, by the way, the same Malta that welcomed hundreds of thousands of injured from the Crimean War and the battlefields of World War I (the Gallipoli and Salonika campaigns) without batting an eyelid.)

On the other hand, the talk on the street and on the web boards is anything but this charitable and proud nation. When we are not busy kicking up a fuss about the foreigners taking up space in our hospitals (don’t bleed on my soil), we are complaining that new laws do not allow money-spending magnates to set up residence on our rock (please let them come bleed euros here).

It’s normally Joseph Muscat’s job to blame Dr Gonzi for everything under the sun (including tsunamis and world economic crisis). I’d just simply say that our political establishment are getting the “proud” citizens they have nurtured and that they deserve. What you reap is what you sow. Maybe the time has come to wake up.

www.akkuza.com is hoping to survive this weekend of bachelor partying. If all goes well we’ll be back online Monday – as proud as peacocks. This article appeared in the J’accuse column of yesterday’s edition of The Malta Independent on Sunday.

* Image – a “welcome” poster for “foreigners” received in my postbox from the “friendly” (thankfully a minority) side of Luxembourg… tolerance is all around us

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J’accuse: Doves in hawk’s clothing

During the Vietnam War, public opinion in the United States of America was virtually split in half between two factions that came to be known as “the hawks” and “the doves”. The monikers speak for themselves − hawks were the advocates of war while the doves were those who plugged more peaceful solutions. Such a description obviously risks being an oversimplification of the issues behind the Vietnam War, but I guess you get the drift.

Food for the masses

The run up to the 21st September celebrations is always seen by the Nationalist Party camp as a great time to drum up a feel-good feeling about the nation and its government (especially when the Nats are the ones at the helm). The orchestrations of the orgy of mass celebrations are the modern daughters of Speer’s efforts in Nuremberg that were handed down through generations via Mintoff’s slapstick parades complete with songs of adulation for the great leader. The Nationalist Party is not at its most confident. Still reeling from the disastrous handling of the divorce issue and from the complete failure of its concept as a party of diversity, it is in great need of a morale booster − its been angling around for a winning theme ever since the Arriva flop took the last feeble breeze out of its sails.

Even this week it lost some (minor) pieces of its organisational puzzle, as Pierre Portelli first (rumour has it that his Watermelon productions did not get all it wanted on NET) and Castaldi Paris later (will he do a Cyrus and switch sides before the big day?) ditched their roles within the party infrastructure. The Nationalist world does not begin and end with Portelli and Castaldi Paris and the government members of the PN would do better to focus on the economy than on the bickering among the growing club of prima donnas within the party’s fold. The euro debt crisis needs quick, clear thinking and the PN focus should not be distracted by the tantrums of its disaffected members or by the loud and empty noises being made by the Man Without a Plan.

Still. A theatrical drum roll is always needed before Gonzi of GonziPN can bark about achievements and order his minions to build their next year on hope. Selling hope is hard these times even if you are Obama, let alone Gonzi with his crumbling party. So what do you hang onto? Well the formula has always been “Religio et Patria”. The religio bit is not that sellable right now, what with the divorce setback and the Church’s woes, so Gonzi had best keep a wide berth of the spiritual infusions of pride right now. Which leaves him with patria.

Clout

This week’s news has been carpet bombed with info about Malta’s role in the Libyan Revolution. After six months of fence-sitting silence, we first got the shameless finger pointing about whose nights were best spent whoring away with the former Libyan tyrant.

Now we have suddenly become the pro-active nurse of the Mediterranean ready to pounce back into Libyan territory with a major role. So while the modern day Nelson and Napoleon were committing themselves to more assistance (such as they have been providing from day 1) in Tripoli and Benghazi, we were regaled without little narrative of heroism: Malta was to care for Aline, Gaddafi’s ex-nanny. We can be heroes too.

We got a full Times of Malta report with AFM in full regalia and Malta’s very known “Head of Defence” in the OPM speaking to the press about a “collective effort” to bring back two wounded Libyans and to ensure that our embassy and consulates would be bomb-free. It wasn’t exactly Obama speaking from the stairs of Air Force One, but you got the nagging feeling that this was an effort to conjure up memories of valiant Maltese battling it out again so close to Victory Day. It was very Hollywoodian. All that we needed was a Maltese Will Smith complete with cigar and smile celebrating his valiant escape from the clutches of the alien. You know the scene I’m referring to: Independence Day is the movie and it includes a stirring speech by a Hollywood Leader of a Nation.

The Nationalist Party may have lost its media wizard who is now busy with Watermelon, but they still seem to be fixated with directing real life Hollywood sagas. The Floriana Fosos will be the stage for narrating the latest step in the PLPN construction of Maltese history, featuring once again one of the comic protagonists. Let’s hope that Lou Bondi does not get to write part of the script. Writing in his blog (Shweyga, you are welcome here) to the tune of this latest theme of pride in the patria he prepares to welcome Shweyga (the ex-nanny) with open arms and concludes: “And we should be proud that the first civilised land that she should set foot on is ours”.

We are Maltese

Shweyga is Ethiopian and moved to Libya for work. That makes it at least two other countries that she set foot on before ending up in Malta’s hospital facilities. Two other countries before she reached “civilised” Malta. I wonder if Lou really thinks that Ethiopia and Libya do not qualify as “civilised” countries or whether he just got carried away with his enthusiasm about the fact that finally, seven months after the Libyan revolution began, Malta is actually committing itself to something.

There was a Maltese film some time ago that looked like a spoof of Hollywood-style movies such as “Independence Day”. The catch line for the film was “We are Maltese, we don’t take no shit”. Sure we don’t. Once the battle is practically won. Once it is practically sure that Gaddafi is but a squeaking mouse in a corner. Once the rest of the international community has moved on. And above all once we realise that our inertia might cause us to miss any “business opportunities”. Then. Only then. We don’t take no shit. We are, after all, a pretty civilised country.

Down Under

So the Nationalists are busy building the new narrative that will hopefully sell packets of pride along with the imqaret and fenek on the stands. Merkel and Sarkozy are still trying to solve the euro debt crisis. For some real time distraction there’s nothing better than the Rugby World Cup in New Zealand. I’ve just watched Ireland defeat the Wallabies in a great encounter. I don’t normally watch rugby outside World Cup season but there are some aspects of the sport (apart from the get-up of the Australians) that are fascinating.

For example, I love the way that the penalties are taken. The penalty taker strides with the confidence of a Beckham-Ronaldo hybrid before performing a dance that seems to be inspired by a combination of a lovesick matador and a llama readying to spit in the eye of its next target. There is a silent moment − a dance on the spot in true tap dance style then the run to the ball and the kick… up, up and beyond. It’s these sporting moments that make life worth living.

www.akkuza.com is in sports viewing mode and is contemplating adopting Finnish side Inter Turku as a new underdog to follow. www.re-vu.org has a new book review up for discussion.

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J’accuse : Civil society and its enemies

I remember perfectly where I was 10 years ago today. I was at home, sick with a heavy dose of “man-flu” (a newly added term to the Oxford dictionary) zapping through tv channels rather disinterestedly when the news broke and the crawl at the foot of most channels led me directly to the live coverage on CNN. The horrible scenes of panic and disorder as Hollywood-style pictures were screened live into living room televisions the world over brought home the savage dawn of a new era.

Osama bin Laden’s al Qaeda had struck directly at the heart of what for many was the norm of civil society. What is arguably the world’s most metropolitan city was ending its night shift (you cannot use the phrase “waking up” for the city that never sleeps) and the al Qaeda directors scripted a new dawn calculated to instil terror in the heart of civil society. These were not the bullets and bombs that were the choice weapons of the hitherto “conventional” terror organisations. No, al Qaeda’s cruel orchestration required that civilian transport and civilian buildings would transform into weapons of mass destruction.

It takes a second to wreck it

Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Zizek has written about the two epic moments in recent history and how they signified important turning points for civil society. Fate has it that the dates of the two events are palindromic once we remove the year (a game for conspiracy theorists but nothing more than a coincidence). On the one hand, if we use the US system of writing dates (month/day) we have 11/9 or November 9th 1989 when the Berlin Wall finally fell. That day was declared to be the end of history and the beginning of a liberal-democrat utopia.

The 11/9 era was to come to a crashing stop on 9/11 (September 11th 2001) − after almost 12 years of the liberal-democrat utopia. Zizek argues that “real history” came crashing back into focus. With the onslaught of terror began the gradual crumbling of the liberal dream best typified by the tightening of the noose on civil liberties by governments acting in the name of the “War on Terror”. As Zizek put it, we entered a time when a state of peace became also a permanent state of emergency as the distinction between war and peace became blurred.

It takes time to build

The shoestring budget terror attack catapulted the world into a new set of paradigms and we are still bearing the consequences of the political shifts that were involved. It took a few seconds to strike at the heart of civil society. It will take time to rebuild. Meanwhile, the world (and to a great extent most of civil society) is also trying to weather the economic hurricane that has been besieging its normality for almost three years now. “Le borse affondano” is the latest title in the economy pages of La Stampa. The troubles in Europe have shifted to the sacred cows of “government bonds”, and the resignation of the German Starke from the European Central Bank this weekend sent shockwaves that “burnt” €157 billion on the markets.

Milan, Frankfurt, Paris − all the markets suffered the shock as governments try desperately to tackle problem after problem. Deficit reduction, spending reduction and other such bywords have become the daily crux for the European 27. Italy has just managed to squeeze through a budget of sorts (La Manovra) while hear in Malta we are still trying to digest Moody’s downward revision of our credit rating. These are big signs in important times and the reactions from the Opposition benches are bafflingly petty, provincial and transparently populist.

It is a sad truth of the Maltese reality that Muscat’s posturing and finger-pointing about the economy will be swallowed hook, line and sinker by the world of the “disgruntled”. It is those very same disgruntled who will eventually be voting “by default” for a Labour government that claims to have the solution to all the problems but seems to prefer to hold the cards close to its chest. Presumably that is because the solutions can only work with a Labour government in place − either that or the solutions are as real as the Tooth Fairy.

The Rule of Law

That Joseph Muscat and his party can peddle hot air as concrete party policies comes as no surprise to this columnist. The fuel for (all) the power circles in our community is all made from the same material where opportunism trumps diligence, where nepotism trumps merit and where the imperatives of populist policies have eroded the value base, which could have provided a proper compass and direction. Our nation’s assault on civil society did not come out of the sky in the form of planes but has been a gradual process of erosion much like the Mediterranean battering against our rock formations.

This week the Plategate saga shot back to the headline news. A defamation case that has been dragging on for some time now is actually the scene for much more important and crucial allegations about the workings in institutions that are important to the stability and functioning of our civil society. Beneath the pink news and name-calling lie facts that have finally (and it took them quite some time) begun to bother those among us who manage to attract the most attention and make the most noise.

It’s not like many of the allegations were not already within the grapevines and Chinese whispers of our society. Malta’s civil society is more and more dependent on the wink-wink nudge-nudge philosophy where standards vanish in order to accommodate the latest johnny-come-lately. Profession after profession has been succumbing to the new rules of the game as the words “ethics”, “standards” and “values” are ditched for the sake of social expediency.

The lack of public trust in politicians and institutions is doomed to get worse. Our society desperately needs a ground up change in order to reinvest in the lost values and reconstruct its ailing institutions. Unfortunately, it is beginning to seem that everyone under the sun has a vested interest in one power circle or other that is the main culprit for the erosion of our civil society. That sad indictment will be written once again come next election. It may take time to build, but unless we realise the proper foundations and adopt a winning philosophy it all risks crumbling to the ground all over again.

Welcome home

The inauguration of the new Juventus stadium on Thursday was a moving and thrilling experience. The words class, style and pride formed the perfect framework for the event that was described as the birth of a new era in Italian football. Juventus too has been forced to rise from the ashes as the team attempts to shed the effects of an unjust and unequal application of a twisted legal system. I am looking forward to the day when the team of shame visits our stadium and while they are preparing in the changing room they will face the 29 scudetti won by Italy’s most loved. Juventus too has adopted a philosophy inherited from the Agnelli family: “At Juventus winning is not the most important thing. It is the only thing that counts.”

Fino alla fine.

 

This article and accompanying bertoon appeared in today’s Malta Independent on Sunday.

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J’accuse : Apocalyptic

It’s the end of the world as we know it. Not really it isn’t. In relative terms it could be though. For the time being it’s probably best if we concentrate on the fact that the end of summer is nigh, though blessed as you are to be living on an island with a lovely climate, that kind of news might sound a little bit premature. What I really mean is that the general heavy feeling that comes with the end of summer is definitely here. It’s the end of the drunken stupor and the stolen moments of dolcefarniente. No more inhaling copious amounts of sea breezes with the only worry being the right choice of wine to go with the mixed shellfish.

The signs are all around us. The commercial motors are beginning to whirr into action after the pause mandated by the universal law which states that for a short time the only things a consumer desires is a BBQ set and a pair of flip-flops. “Back to school” offers flood the advertorials and office employees exchange stories about their summer vacation while showing off their tans. There’s all that − which is quite usual − and then there is more.

The agony of foreknowledge

It was an article in the UK Times by economics expert Anatole Kaletsky (“Take cover: a financial hurricane is blowing in”) that really made this weird feeling hit home. Kaletsky does a good job (of course) of describing how in periods of great financial crisis the worst months to look out for are September and October. He lists an incredible amount of historic financial fiascos and points out the fact that they all happen over these two ill-fated months. From Wall Street in 1929 through to the Lehman bankruptcy in 2009, a series of doomsday-like economic crises struck just as summer sailed out of sight and autumn fell into the equation.

Mine is no exercise in conspiratorial coincidences. It is not so much the pattern that is worrying as the signs that occurred throughout the soporific haze of a summer but that seem to have been ignored by all concerned. “All concerned” seemed to be sufficiently distracted by other bits of news but could not be bothered to look at a wider picture. Thank God for Anatole then. For starters I was reassured that I was not insane and that my worries (although fed from a position of relative economic ignorance) were justified.

Anatole listed four events that zoomed by us this summer: (1) the eurozone crisis (and German hesitation therewith); (2) the downgrading of US growth; (3) the collapse of confidence among US consumers; and (4) the confusing message from Ben Bernanke of the Federal Reserve as to whether he will try additional action to stimulate US growth. Yes, I got this list from Kaletsky’s article (available at a price on The Times online) and I probably would never have got the fourth point myself. What I did find reassuring was that someone somewhere outside the island at the centre of the universe seems to be sufficiently preoccupied about what he calls potential financial hurricanes coming our way.

Beyond their timid lying morality

It turns out (always in the gospel according to Anatole) that the financial hurricane’s force might be mitigated and turn out to be a false alarm. What is certain is that there is no harm in advocating both prudence and awareness given the fragility of the current economic climate. In fact, these normally come in a specific order: first there is awareness that leads to prudence. The problem we might have in this country is related mainly to awareness of what’s going on beyond our shores. Unless something apocalyptic happens to lift the veil and jolt us into reality our politicians tend to be blissfully ignorant and engaged in tremendous navel gazing.

Need proof? Just look at the pot and kettle show (as James Debono so aptly put it) between the PN and PL with regard to Libya. Now that Gaddafi has shot down in the popularity ratings faster than Usain Bolt on a false start, it has become imperative for everyone and everything political on the island to wash their hands (and ever-present consciences) of any link with the Green Leader.

Lest I be misunderstood, let me be clear that I am not interested in the comparison game myself. If I were the sole and ultimate judge I would have no doubt in declaiming that Labour wins the “I Love Libya” contest by a barrow-load of points. By no stretch of the imagination can the uberfraternal relationship between Labour and Gaddafi’s Libya be compared to the dealings made by PN politicians or by the PN government over the 40 forty years.

The view at different levels does however provide different outcomes. Politicians on both sides of our poor political fence spun networks and webs with Gaddafi and his henchmen via ingratiation and friendly exchanges in order to get a foothold in the Libyan Business Circle. Blue or red was not so much the worry as the careless ignorance of how much of their “business” was obtained with the blood, sweat and tears of the Libyan people. Should the parties bear the responsibility for such individuals? Does realpolitik come into play? Well the good old J’accuse dictum about PLPN applies here: you reap what you sow.

Perhaps we are asking the wrong questions

Then there is the party level. People like myself only just missed the obligatory Arabic at school (by one year) but we grew up on a steady feed of “Green Propaganda” and developed a twisted Pavlovian response to all things Arab (an unfortunate mental default that was only eventually rectified through learning about the treasures, riches and beauty of a wider Arab world beyond Muammar’s Green Book). We automatically associate this surreal world of the Arab Oz with the Mintoffian era. Elsewhere, the PN hacks, delighting in unearthing Labour’s recent past of flirtations and love affairs with the Colonel, have documented this period well enough.

As a party, the PN has nothing as close as PL’s incestuous relationship with Gaddafi and his monetary support − I suspect that if foreign money had to come Pietà’s way it would be from some Stiftung or other in the heart of Christian-Democracy. Out of the 40 years of Gaddafi regime, there have been at least 20 years of PN government during which − as a commentator on my blog observed − the practice of realpolitik dictated that the government maintain friendly relations with the volatile neighbour.

Good point. Only, beyond the granting of honorary titles you do sense a veil of hypocrisy behind the pointed fingers. The last six months of hesitation by the PN government was sufficient proof of how convenient the “realpolitik” line really is. One cannot fail to mention the extreme misjudgement behind our Prime Minister’s last visit to Gaddafi with the fires of revolution already alight, or the caution with which the rebel government was treated for a long time.

Revelations

As the new season breaks in, J’accuse keeps the same message flying. Ask questions of your politicians. Question their promises. Look through their declared motives. Do not let them wait for the apocalypse, for the lifting of the veil, before they are shocked into action. Bring the apocalypse to them yourselves. As I’ve liked to repeat recently: ask the right questions. There’s a limit to how long they can keep up the pretence.

www.akkuza.com was in Cambridge this weekend for John’s wedding (congrats). The subtitles in today’s article are a nod to three great apocalyptic films: Twelve Monkeys, Apocalypse Now and The Matrix. Anatole Kaletsky’s article referred to here is available in the UK Times and was published on Wednesday this week. www.re-vu.org discussed stereotypes in our head this week.

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J’accuse : The Hack

Today’s J’accuse on the Malta Independent on Sunday (28.08.11)

It’s hard to concentrate when you’ve been hacked. Not physically I mean. It’s just that J’accuse, the blog − the depository of my almost daily thoughts for almost seven years − was hacked by some git supposedly based in Ukraine. Notwithstanding the valorous efforts of a number of tech-savvy comrades, the hack persisted in doing its malicious business for the past three days − said business consisting of “redirecting” visitors to Google and distributing “malware”.

This particular hack had a little “robot” planted into my site via some seemingly innocuous programming that supports a website theme. Without going into too much detail, what happened next was that at some point the “robot” decided to start redirecting anybody attempting to enter www.akkuza.com to a site hosted in Russia. Apart from being very frustrating, this “malware” − for thusly have the nerds baptised this ill of the ether − has the effect of debilitating your “street cred” on the net.

Over a short period of time, your address becomes a pariah to browser after browser because someone at the net-police in Google headquarters decided to flag your address as a potentially malicious carrier of ugly information. Before you know it, you find yourself quarantined in a virtual Lazaretto without so much as a limestone wall to carve your name on. Which is how I ended up rebuilding J’accuse from scratch on Friday night till the early hours of Saturday morning. J’accuse is running now and its net credibility has been repristinated. It’s incredible how hard a bit of Internet slagging can hit you… but hey we all know how thick J’accuse’s skin is.

Hang on

I had a dream that consisted of a crazed Muammar Gaddafi in exile travelling around “his” Africa filming little snippets with a videocam and commenting, “My people, they love me”. The theatricals of the tyrant in the last violent throes of his deposition have been starkly surreal. In the midst of all the firing and chaos, who does Gaddafi call? The Russian head of the World Chess Player Federation that’s who. He called Mr Ilyumzhinov to tell him that he was alive and well (just in case the Russian was thinking of checking in on his friend) and this call was reported in a manner that made it seem like the most normal conversations. The world, as you know it, is crumbling around you and you find time to call your chess partner? Checkmate.

Oh the irony. We normally attribute the term “checkmate” to Arabic origins. The phrase “Shah mat” is explained as meaning “the King is Dead” in common lore. Apparently, the Persian phrase Shah mat does not actually mean that the king is dead but rather that “the king is helpless”. Which makes more sense because the checkmate position in chess involves the noble realisation that your king is in an indefensible corner and that the next step is the gallant toppling of your own king in humble acceptance of the inevitability of defeat. Gaddafi will wander around “helpless” for a few more days, or maybe months – everybody but Muammar has realised the inevitability of his defeat. Shah mat.

Hold on

Gaddafi’s lessons in chess over a 10-year period do not seem to have included the noble art of accepting the inevitability of defeat. The tyrant hangs on for his dear life and his power, still backed by the die-hard rebels. He has become the latest tyrant on the run, a fugitive spitting away from a corner − just like Adolf and Saddam before him. Even the greatest foot shufflers and fence sitters have finally begun to publicly denounce the Green Leader and throw their lot in with the new leadership. Malta − or the slower part of it − has begun to realise the inevitability of having to rewrite its relationship with its southern neighbour.

While one powerful man gave us a lesson on how not to relinquish power, another man of a completely different cut was in the news this week. Steve Jobs, the famed Apple CEO, resigned from his post as CEO of what is probably one of the world’s most powerful companies. His resignation reverberated around the world of tech-nerds and stock markets. Apple shares shot down for a while − such was the confidence in this guru of marketing who had reinvented two worlds in one lifetime. Jobs, the man who re-branded Apple via snazzy computers and a music world revolution, has chosen to step aside.

Steve Jobs could not just teach us one lesson. He could have his own faculty in a university to teach us lessons in life, from business acumen to surviving illnesses after facing death in the face. If there is one lesson Jobs could teach us right now it is that of knowing when to quit: “I have always said if there ever came a day when I could no longer meet my duties and expectations as Apple’s CEO, I would be the first to let you know. Unfortunately, that day has come.” There you have it. The King is dead. Long live King Jobs.

Scraping the ethical barrel

Lastly, allow me a few words on the Julia Farrugia business. It has been intriguing for me to monitor the reaction to the decision of the Press Ethics Committee regarding MaltaToday’s reporting of the Joe Mizzi Affair. You’ll find a full review of the issue on the J’accuse post entitled “De Moribus Viator”. What I found particularly jarring was the repetition of what happened in the Plategate Affair a while back. Instead of discussing the ethics of what was done (and instead of addressing the issue of improving the ethical performance of the Maltese journalistic sector), what counts for Malta’s opinion press and opinion formers pounced on the opportunity to engage in their national sport: character assassination.

If denouncing the free manner in which any excuse is a good excuse for a slag contest makes me a speaker from a high horse then call me a cavalier. When I am accused of speaking from the “moral high ground” because I have denounced the lax standards of the gutter press, the accuser fails to realise that this IS all about morality and ethics. The moment that you make the mental choice to accept the kind of sewer-bred smear tactics that are perpetrated daily in the Maltese media you become a willing accomplice of that dirt.

Gode di Immunità

Debbie Schembri left a note on Facebook informing the world that she is happy to have been reinstated as a lawyer in the Ecclesiastical Tribunal. To people like myself, Schembri’s message is once again equivocal to say the least. I had high hopes that the likes of Schembri would survive the divorce debate to form a Civil Rights movement that would press on to reform our laws. One such important reform would be the divorce between Church and state matters − a marriage that has only harmed both parties since 1995.

Schembri had no obligation or duty to do any of this. It is disappointing to see the “bright star” of Maltese progressive politics melt into the establishment day after day. First there was no Civil Rights movement − Debbie preferred to join opportunist Labour; now there is no hurry to divorce Church from State − Debbie is quite happy to perform her duties as a church approved lawyer. Ah Tommasi di Lampedusa… how right you were.

End credits

Allow me to thank Max, Mark and Simon for their assistance in the latest ordeal for J’accuse. The blog keeps the flag flying. Expect a few more tweaks in the coming days.

www.akkuza.com is officially no longer in Google’s black books. Normal service has been resumed and the blog that has entertained you since March 2005 is back to its normal pain in the butt status.

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J’accuse : Papillon

Papillon is the name of a 1969 novel written by Frenchman Henri Charrière. The (allegedly) autobiographical novel tells of Charrière’s extraordinary saga at the hands of the French criminal justice system between 1931 and 1945 after he had been condemned to a period of hard labour on Devil’s Island as a punishment for murder. Charrière’s character in the book is called “Papillon” − the French for butterfly − because of the butterfly tattoo he had on his chest. The papillon is also a symbol of the freedom that this prisoner constantly craved.

Cinema buffs will have surely watched the 1973 movie starring Steve McQueen as Papillon. The book itself was an international sensation and caused a furore in France since Charrière’s story exposed the harsh brutality of the French justice system and the inhumanity of pre-war incarceration policies. Attempts were made to discredit the veracity of Charrière’s adventures, and articles and books were written to kill the more colourful of Charrière’s stories. Papillon, if one were to take his word for it, had suffered the ignominy of inhuman conditions and isolation. His different attempts to escape and obtain the freedom that he believed he deserved involved audacious contraptions and life-threatening situations but his book served at least to unmask the hideous conditions in the French penal system.

This could be heaven, this could be hell

Freedom. It was not the auburn Scot with face daubed in blue that spoke the word but a dark skinned Ivorian speaking to a Times of Malta journalist who was trying to discover the reason for the Safi riots. Freedom. It’s a strong word with a very strong meaning. The Hollywood speech reserved for Mel Gibson in Braveheart is simply about humankind’s love of freedom and its willingness to lay down everything else in order to obtain it. The anonymous Ivorian did not speak from a high horse (metaphorically and physically) when he explained the reasons behind what have been dubbed the “riots” in Safi.

The men and women condemned by our 18-month detention policy are reduced to becoming inhuman wrecks pacing up and down the dirty corridors of Malta’s own Gulag probably wondering what other cruel fate can be thrown at them. It is one thing being a criminal, like Papillon, and still succumbing to the very natural urge to escape and spread your wings. It is another to have escaped the miseries and trials and tribulations of a war-torn country and to find yourself in a Mediterranean concentration camp under the August sun. Freedom. Not 5-star food, not 5-star accomodation, just freedom − and the right to be treated as a human being. Yet, what most people saw was not a genuine cry for freedom. They saw guests misbehaving.

Bring your alibis

Fellow blogger Andrew Azzopardi has taken the cause of the Safi inmates (for inmates they are) to heart. His blog has been constantly updated with photos from inside the camp documenting the hideous conditions. Other recent members of the blogosphere like Norman Vella picked on the ugly response of the dark side of this nation. I blogged about this in the post “What paradise?” in which I wondered whether this nation of ours has so much to be feel indignant about. It had been a truly disgusting week of reactions in the comment boxes.

I picked on a Facebook comment by divorce guru Jeffrey Pullicino Orlando in the What paradise? post. “Illegal immigrants among us have to understand that they are guests in our country and they should behave accordingly,” quoth Mr Divorce. My first reaction was to comment right under his post and wonder whether the immigrants aren’t doing just that − behaving accordingly. You know, when in Rome…

JPO was voicing an ugly popular sentiment that keeps resurfacing. It gets worse when there are calls to “send them back home” or when the comments incite actual violence against the “guests”. The pink corner of the blogosphere also picked up (should I say “filched” because we stumbled on the same post? The law of petty schoolgirl thinking would seem to imply so − hey I saw it first!) on the JPO comment and condemned the crassness of it all.

Pink champagne on ice

I don’t just mention the other blogs to point out the varied nature of the blogosphere’s reaction to the goings on. The blogs, the blogosphere and the mainstream media comment boards are one way of gauging our reactions to the main events in our lives. They also provide another testing ground. They are a microcosmic reflection of the manner in which our society operates: with its little battlegrounds for prima donnas, with the pushing and shoving for cornering tiny markets and perceived centres of power, and with the constant battle in which the loudest, noisiest and most lewdly entertaining tends to win the public’s baying approval. Welcome to the 21st century Colosseum.

It is the world where a refined pen and mastery of English can be used to churn out filth and fabricate character assassinations day in day out. It is a world where − posing through the guise of bluff and plagiarism − budding politicians and faux intellectuals win their fawning corner of the crowd by selling their repackaged gospel to the malleable masses. It is a world that has spawned the quick judgement, the guillotine jury and the fast-track condemnation based on taste. This world has fed on Malta’s particular adaptation of the global ideological vacuum as nurtured by the PLPN mentality. It is not a world of discussion but of antagonism where, in the words of the philosopher Slavoj Zizek “(the people) express an authentic rage which is not able to transform itself into a positive programme of socio-political change”.

We are programmed to receive

The riots in London, the indignados in Spain and the Jasmine Revolution in North Africa. We tried, maybe wrongly, to find a common element (do check out www.re-vu.org for a couple of good articles analysing the riots). Zizek, the philosopher I mentioned earlier, has penned a brilliant article himself called “Shoplifters of the World Unite” in which he notes the ideological political predicament we live in: “A society which celebrates choice but in which the only available alternative to enforced democratic consensus is a blind acting out.” “What is the point of our celebrated freedom of choice,” asks Zizek, “when the only choice is between playing by the rules and (self-) destructive violence?”

In our tiny microcosm we might be looking at the Safi “riots” from the wrong angle. JPO’s concept of “guests” implies that we are somehow better off than the Ivorian who is craving freedom and who can only vent his anger and frustration by lighting a fire in the compound. What that image fails to consider and factor into the context is the fact that the post-ideological vacuum is the predicament of a whole island of cynics. Liberals and conservatives alike seem to be unable to face the fact that there is a value vacuum that is slowly transforming into our cage. Relativism and poverty of values is leading to our becoming prisoners in our own home.

We are all just prisoners here, of our own device

Which is why I asked the question “What paradise?” this week. The rioter in Safi wants freedom from his prison. But is the world beyond the confines of Safi’s walls a free world? Papillon, the prisoner of an outdated penal system ended up wandering from one prison island to another before finally obtaining his freedom in Venezuela. In this day and age it is not just four walls that can constitute a prison but also mental barriers built on a vacuum devoid of reference points and an absence of clear socio-political goals.

The Ivorian and his fellows at Safi might still be in time to realise that beyond their four walls lies a larger prison populated by hypocrites and false moralists. This news might come as slim consolation for the Safi inmates but the least we can do is notice that guests and hosts alike might be in desperate need of a plan to work towards a better life. Otherwise we will end up living the song… where we can check out anytime we like, but we can never leave.

The Duchy beckons

It’s been a hectic two weeks of rushing around (and a bit of idyllic epicurean delight). The heat is really stifling and it’s a wonder that anything gets done. I have a note of sympathy for fellow lawyers who are obliged by the ridiculous rules of convention to trudge to Valletta wearing suits in 35 degrees of heat. How long before we notice that this weather requires its own dress code?

Food-wise, I’ve enjoyed terrific meals from the succulent rib eye served consistently at Sliema’s weather toss’d pitch to the delicious seafood on offer at il-Pulena in Marsalforn (three thumbs up again Godwin). It would be a shame not to mention Qbajjar Restaurant’s great BBQ Wednesday night while a big thank you to the blokes at Badass Burgers for remembering the gluten-challenged among us. I’ve tried Arriva, I’ve caught the ferries and I have only one thing to say: “move bloody back”. What is it with idiots who plonk themselves half way up the bus aisle thus giving the impression of a bus that is full? I leave the island with mixed impressions: it’s definitely a cleaner Malta (the effort on the beaches merits a standing ovation) but there’s an angry, cynical interior that is letting itself be harnessed by the most harmful of forces. It’s that interior that can be jarring and render life unpleasant.

All you need is a thick skin, plenty of sun block and a daily dose of J’accuse. Which is what you will get in the post-vacation weeks to come.

www.akkuza.com has quoted from Slavoj Zizek’s “Shoplifters of the world unite” (google it for the free version). Papillon (the movie) released in 1973 features Steve McQueen and Dustin Hoffmann. Blogs mentioned in this article can be accessed freely on the Internet. Don’t believe all that you read. Remember: Just ask. Subs courtesy of the Eagles’ Hotel California.