Category: Mediawatch

I have been trying to get hold of the opinion columns on MaltaToday since David Friggieri told me that he made a fleeting mention to the J’accuse column on The Malta Independent on Sunday in his own MaltaToday column last Sunday. Thanks to Online Editor Matthew Vella I finally got to read through the article entitled “What makes a fanatic?”. Since, in editor Vella’s own words, the newspaper version of  MT is still on bunsen burner mode (back burner – but somehow bunsen is more appropriate) I have taken the liberty of creating a public link to the opinion column in question in order that my apologia for a “limp, imported ‘son-et-lumière’ spectacle’ is all the clearer. So before reading on click here to read David’s contribution to the MaltaToday opinion pages.

Ready? Now that you have become experts on ski-jumping allow me to add a few finer points of my own that seem to have been missed in this song and dance in praise of fanaticism. In short, without much mincing and beating (of words and round bushes), my whole argument (an apologia) rests on the fact that ski-jumping (and its injuries) only happens to the “fanatics” engaging in the sport. Firework factories and their preparation has this slightly different tendency of having a detrimental effect and of being a constant menace to other people’s life and limb (lives and limbs).

Yes. To begin with and to put our finger on the crux of the matter, firework preparation, transport and use in the Maltese islands is self-evidently a fanatic practice that puts much more than the lives of renegade desperados yearning for “the thrill of feeling alive” in manifest danger. The multiple factories dotting the islands like some insane minefield, the transportation of fireworks via main thoroughfares (metres away from civilian houses) and the questionable handling of the fireworks in situ just before the country’s air is filled with the “noise, colour and smells” are actually a continuous (and continuing threat) to the life and health of any a person who would desperately hang on to the “thrill of feeling alive” without so much bravado and manifestation of ignorant attitudes towards basic precepts of safety (thank you very much).

You see David? The ski jumper flying oh so highly and bravely over the green fields of Upper Austria is – at most – taking the risk of splattering himself onto the ground in what would be verily a gruesome affair of blood and a jigsaw puzzle of sorts for forensic experts. At most – and I underline the “at most” once again – knowing the Austrian fervour for regulation and safety (second only to the ever so boring Swiss) they would have made sure that no civilian (as against ski-jumping fanatic) wandered in the vicinity of the estimated point of landing (nor would such landing point be within range of any house or log cabin). Thusly, people who are fully capable of recognising their vital nature without resorting to fanatic thrills are spared the possibility of being surprised of a ski-jumpers limb careening through their bedroom window.

It’s not just that though is it David? You tell us:

“And let’s face it, feasts would simply not be the same without the murtali, murtaletti, blalen, murtali ta’ l-art and all the other exotic and colourful, yet potentially lethal objects which fill this country’s air with noise, colour and smells throughout the summer.”

Hmm interesting. I too am hooked to the smell of sulphur (is it sulphur?) in the air that sends unquestionable orders to the brain in the form of “tuzzana pastizzi, pizza bil-muxrums u kendi floss ‘ekk joghgbok” racing to the brain. Isn’t the pagan and spiritual thrilling eh? Does not the firework light, smell and sound provide the lovely background  to that ‘incestuous meshing of politics and religion’? Of course it does. We do not know otherwise do we? Does the fond memory of festa nights in any way justify the careless abandon with which our incestuous political leaders have tackled the issue until now? Not at all.

I’m sure an Aztec five hundred years ago would reminesce of the bygone days when the smell of blood and the scream of sacrificial victims filled the air while the population of Technotitlan celebrated the festivities in the name of the Sun God between a game of poc’t’apoc and a cup of hot choclotl. I’m sure he’d complain to the conquistador about the limp new style processions with the Virgin Mary at her helm and how they’re nothing compared to the wonderful passion exhibited by a winning poc’t’a’poc team on its way to summary execution on the high altar. Darn. These pussy Spaniards and their imported religions and traditions – they’ve ruined our passionate fanaticism to no end.

Seriously David. I’m not really that bothered about your branding a “son et lumière” as being a limp import – it is after all a question of taste and I’m not here to force feed you my questionable tastes. The problem though is that the conclusion in your article is a bit of a non sequitur. It may be cool and hip to get a thrill of feeling alive – many illegally available drugs and psychotropic substances provide just such a thrill. Does that make the danger posed by the current set up of the firework industry any better? Is fanaticism a justification? Methinks not. And while I sincerely hope that the idea of son et lumière is taken up by an avant garde village that will invest in training its sons in the art of light and sound engineering instead of bomb manufacturing I sure hope that a well-regulated single factory of fireworks will be able to still provide us with a taster of the crazy revelries of festas past.

I’m quite sure that change will not happen fast. There’s rarely hope for that on our island. In the meantime here’s an ode to the fanatics mentality – with no care in the world except their own. My way… or the highway (Limp Bizkit).