Tag: bondiplus

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J’accuse: Oliver’s Twist & Other Perspectives

Almost 20 years have passed since I used to hitch rides to the university in the evening to attend a series of lectures by Professor Oliver Friggieri. If my memory serves me right, the lectures were about creative writing in Maltese but in actual fact they served as a real eye opener that went far beyond any tips on how to use your pen creatively. If you learn the benefits of learning and asking questions at the age of 16 then the world is your oyster. “Id-dinja mistoqsija, mimlija b’elf ghaliex” (“the world is a question full of a thousand ‘why’s’”).

What Prof. Friggieri imparted, among many other things, was the importance of observing the world around you, looking for clues of change as well as for the strands of similarity that occasionally get to give us a sense of identity or belonging. It was Oliver’s twist on life and it became a useful tool as life went on.

It was a pleasure to see Oliver (forgive me the first name sense of familiarity) on TV last Monday. There he was giving his take on different aspects of our life and the way we are. Are we partisan? Why? Where do we begin to look for an answer? There was that and more peppered with what I saw as the humility to declare (admit?) the limits of his comprehension. This was apparent when he was asked whether our party TV stations make us more partisan: “It’s a difficult question and I cannot answer it.” Oliver has never tired of reminding us that the world should be our reference point and nothing should be examined out of context. Twenty years may have passed but his philosophical yardstick used to see the world around him remains pleasantly reliable.

Mind the revolution

Browsing through Facebook the next day I was surprised to see a negative reaction to Oliver’s appearance on TV. The general idea was that Oliver was yet another of the mild intellectuals of the island who dance around controversy preferring the fence to the battlefield. I think that assessment is unfair. Oliver is less about controversy and criticism and more about sociological snapshots. He is less about the controversial medicine and more about the discovery of DNA and our origins. He has been observing for a long time now and is not about to pop a cigar into his mouth, grow some beard and wear military slacks while announcing the intellectual coup d’êtat on the nation’s corroded junta of partisan ignorantia.

Expecting Oliver to become Simón Bolívar is wrong. You also have to wonder exactly what kind of revolution people are expecting. We have become somewhat lax with words − something Oliver tried to explain to Lou. As an expat feeding solely on news as it is filtered, I can vouch that it is more and more difficult to fathom what is really going on in the country. When you reach a situation that a Times report is so convoluted that it could provoke a seminar of interpretations, then it is difficult to really observe and comment.

The picture is twisted beyond ken. I read an article in an English language newspaper that seemed to refer to authors generally commenting on the infamous Realtà article. Nowhere in the article could you find an indication that these were witnesses in the Magistrates’ Court. It was only after reading other papers that I understood why the likes of Maria Grech Ganado and Ranier Fsadni had decided to “revive” the subject. Then there was the reporting on the honorarium saga. What with parties wanting to spin their take, and with journalists getting half-baked reports, it was a total mess. Look at the post “Honour Among Thieves” in www.akkuza.com to see what I mean.

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Praeter intentionem

Or as Aquinas would put it − per accidens or outside the moral intention. We are becoming more and more slack with the use of our words or reporting. Most times we get the excuse that the resulting miscommunication was “not intended”. We try to define the indefinable such as “What is a real Nationalist?” after the latest manual revolutionary (from the DIY of PN backbenchers) has drawn his dividends from the D’Hondt one-man majority conundrum.

We swing between the hands of the Opposition that would love us to believe that this is the eternal battle of Rich (arrogant) vs. Poor (subject) and the gaffes of the party in government (We didn’t mean to get greedy). We fall over ourselves in asking the ridiculously sublime question of “What would Ugo Mifsud have done?”

Sadly a necessary and important debate about formulating a proper pay scale for MPs that justifies their job has been turned into a political football. The point is that while we apparently already know the answer to the question whether our politicians deserve the money they vote themselves, we fail to ask ourselves the even more important question: “Do we deserve the politicians that we elect?”

Honoraria: What lies beneath

Fausto Majistral has done a wonderful job of asking the right questions about the honoraria. Again you can find his post entitled “Honoraria: What lies beneath” in J’accuse − the blog. It’s less about whether Gonzi meant it, whether J.P. Farrugia deserved it, or whether Joseph’s Labour have really grasped the concept that it’s not theirs to donate if they pooh-poohed accepting it in the first place. It’s more about where we want

to go with our House of Representatives. Alfred Sant and Franco Debono have both made not too subtle statements about the current state of disrespect that surrounds our House of Representatives.

Something tells me that that is a lesson that our wannabe revolutionaries and half-baked political class still cannot get to terms with. We do not need saviours but a good set of servants, well paid if necessary, but servants nevertheless.

U ssirlek poezija (and it becomes a poem)

Jack Frost is back in the north of Europe and it’s a cold cold time again. It gets warmer in the living room catching up on the excellent series “Mad Men” with a smashing soundtrack (Enoch Light’s Autumn Leaves is a screamer). For the app fanatics about, I strongly recommend “Google Goggles” − watch your iPhone solve the hardest of sudokus before your eyes. One last word goes to one of the world’s latest citizens.

A big welcome goes out to baby Ella who turns eight (days) today. It’s a big, big world Ella, but if you ask the right questions you can turn it into the most wonderful of poems. At least Oliver told me so!

www.akkuza.com provides a wealth of information to the lost expats. Venture inside to interpret the mixed messages coming from the isle of milk and honey.

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A Brilliant Bondi+

We know you’d never thought we’d say this but we will. Last night’s Bondi+ was brilliant. It may be that it’s because Oliver Friggieri was given practically a free rein to speak his mind about Malta and the Maltese but it is thoroughly enjoyable. Interesting insights and thoughts. Friggieri at his best. You’ve got to love his humility : “Ma hix mistoqsija facli. Ma nafx inwegibha” (when asked if party TV stations are contributing to increase the sense of partisanism.)

PS. Got to the point where Bondi expresses his new pet hate: “il-hmerijiet li taqra fuq l-internet.” He still cannot stomach the idea that there is a space which cannot be bought out for some opinions only. A repugnant interlude.

Watch it here.

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Mediawatch Politics

My Cousin Bondi

This is a tale of two cousins. One is a self-professed journalist who has a time slot on national television the other is a thatcherite minister in the Maltese government. J’accuse does not normally take to the “pink” style references of familial links and the like but this time the coincidental operations of two cousins – one of whom we still admire – merited an appreciative pointer from this ever cynical blog.

First was the “journalism above all bloke”. This week there was another self-referential program about… himself. Or rather about the fact that assertions made by him in an earlier program did not sell very well to a large part of the population. Bondi must have been reading the news for a couple of weeks now for he planned a program full of clips and cuts from everything under the sun. Admittedly. and sticking to his philosophy, all references he read or saw or heard were to himself and his program. So he set up a new one in order to disprove his detractors.

He had planned a lovely jubbly program complete with an interview with Finance Minister Tonio Fenech. It would be a program in which he would prove that PL’s campaign depicting him as a statistic fabricating lackey for the nationalist government is completely cuckoo. It would all be as slick as a gelled hairdo. It would be. Until Bondi discovered much to his chagrin “a few minutes before the program began” (as he repeated ad nauseam) that a welcoming delegation from the PL were waiting at the studios complete with special guest Charles Mangion.

Bondi was as surprised as Alfred Sant must have been when he saw JPO sitting in the journalist benches on that fateful afternoon. He could not call for security and have the offending intrusion on his orchestrated program removed. He would have liked to. But he could not. Instead he smiled and gave Kurt Farrugia a “ma gara xejn” nod. And so the program began. It took a bouncy Bondi a full six minutes to settle down and actually start the program – not before flushing the cameras with caveats and mumbling sorry excuses about how a presenter of his international stature had been caught pants down by a rare sly move from the PL marketing team. He would have to go ahead with the program with the “adversary” in the studio watching every step.

Throughout the first part of the program (there’s a limit to how much bull we can stomach for you readers) we could feel Bondi’s discomfort as he squirmed from one figure to the next. He jumped from “zball zghir nibdluh” to “kollha l-istess baqghu il-figuri” with the grace of a clumsy donkey ride on a hot summer beach. Whenever he felt he was losing grasp of the situation (read: the program was not going according to script) he cannonballed onto Mangion with pleas for the labour parliamentarian not to “Set the agenda”. In Bondi’s mind, anything that risks disproving his theories involves setting the agenda.

Pity that Mangion was a feeble lamb and failed to live up to the occasion. He should have damn well insisted that the Beta tape he was carrying be shown. It was after all a table of figures and not – as Bondi seemed to imply – a porn video of god know what libellous nature. That Bondi managed to brush away the presentation with a feeble: “mhux fair ghax gibtha tard” spoke volumes of the worry that had planted itself firmly in the presenter’s mind. Truth is that Bondi cannot and will not take on his critics fair and square at equal arms. He needs to dance around and manage the show with clips that can be shifted and moved around at will. Even if Bondi was right, or half right – the manner in which he chooses to refute criticism makes him stink of wrong. Very wrong.

Which brings me to the much admired (in these circles) Austin. Among the sanscouillistes even the man with half a ball is king. Gatt seems to be loaded with such attributes (we are always speaking on a metaphorical level of course – I have no idea (or interest) what Gatt carries in his pants) and as such has often borne the brunt of audacious measures. Which makes his pussyfooting and excuse mongering in the BWSC affair all the more suspicious. Unlike Cousin Bondi, Gatt has never feared opposition and a good battle and prefers to take it head on.

Reading the script of the parliamentary accounts committee interview of the Auditor General was a bit of a throwback to kafquesue big brother readings. The quizzing of the AG by Austin Gatt had a bit of a stalinist feel about them that made more noise for what was not being said than what was being said. The “smoke without fire” metaphor had been stretched beyond limits. The AG had said ab initio that while all the investigations left a stinky smell of something fishy he had not managed to put his finger on the pile of stinking fish. Why then would we need the charade of Austin Gatt asking question after question about every stage to point out that no evidence was found? Had the AG not already said that?

It sounded like Pope Urban VIII vs Galileo:

He listed almost ten stages of the entire process and the persons involved during the decision process, and after each case, he asked the Auditor if there was any evidence that these people had been corrupted.

The Auditor General replied: “there was no evidence.”

Neat isn’t it? Almost ten stages. Almost like a rosary. A litany. Stage I. No Evidence. Stage II. No Evidence. Stage III. No Evidence. Stage IV. No evidence. etc etc. Ora Pro Nobis. Turris Eburniae and all.

In view of the information available to the Audit office. No corruption was found Mifsud (the AG) said, however he did add that “there had been lack of cooperation from some people who the NAO had questioned.”

Eppur si muove right? Not really. The nationalist inquisition is probably routing for an open and shut case. Austin Gatt had skillfully (not without causing a ruckus at the PMs office) set the agenda for the PAC in much the same manner as a Bondiplus programme. The obstinacy with which he opposes the calling of forgetful witnesses (a parallel with calciopoli perhaps) is baffling. Again. Whether he is right or wrong Austin Gatt’s methodology in this business has fouled the whole reasoning. The press that Bondi scours so assiduously for references to himself have been unanimous in criticising Gatt’s modus operandi this time round. He was painfully aware of this during his interview with Herman Grech.

So there you have it. Cousins Gatt and Bondi display similar traits when it comes to attempting to control a PR exercise gone wrong. These damn Gozitans… what is it they say about burning good ones?

Quotes from MaltaToday report.

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The Rules of Engagement

Peppi Azzopardi saw fit to celebrate the 500th episode of Xarabank with a US-style debate between the Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition. The edifying celebration of the 500 steps towards Malta’s “Xarabanikification” would come to an end after a couple of hours of partisan attrition with Where’s Everybody’s veteran presenter asking the audience for a round of applause (capcipa) for Malta’s politicians. The X-factor was complete.

Some wisecracks on the social networks claimed that the “capcipa” they had in mind for our politicians would not be as cordial as Peppi’s invitation – a rather conventional semi-joke from the xarabankified masses adept at the schizophrenic balancing act of wanton complaint and partisan support. But then it had to be so. This Xarabankified nation had a sort of coming of age on Friday night and, as the court jester Joe Bondi(n) dutifully pointed out, much water has passed under the bridge since the early dawn of Xarabank’s quest to bring the Maltese grapevine and bar chat into everybody’s home.

Our Bishop was a young Dominican, Lawrence Gonzi was the secretary-general of the Nationalist Party, Joseph Muscat was a budding reporter with Super One TV and Malta was still far from its latest ambition of joining the European elite crowd. Then came Xarabank and the process of Xarabankification. Unlike his colleagues at Where’s Everybody, Peppi gives off a scent of benign intent to tackle the major issues of the nation from the political equivalent of the lowest common denominator.

While the Bondipluses of this world thrive on exploiting ignorance and on the feebly disguised manipulation of supposed investigative journalism, Peppi built a welcoming platform that gives a voice to the good, the bad and (very often) the embarrassing face of what we are.

Long before the Internet exposed one of Malta’s faces – warts and all – Peppi’s Xarabank was doing a brilliant job of such an exposé himself. I’ve stopped being negative about Xarabank and Xarabankification. We cannot – must not – expect Hard Talk on TVM. We will probably never see a Michael Parkinson or a Jeremy Paxman gracing our TV screens trying to squeeze from the politicians the answers for which all the “middle-class” has been waiting with eager anticipation. Still – our compliments to Peppi and crew for their 500. Like it or hate it, Xarabank is an institution in our little microcosm.

Rocks

Joseph and Lawrence battled it out before the eager rent-a-crowds who must have been torn between the love for their leaders and the free-for-all sandwich and drink routine kindly provided by (Insert Ad Here) Caterers after the show. Speaking of rhetoric would be an injustice to the orators of past and present, from classical Cicero to modern Obama. On one side of the exchange we had the petulant upstart firing allegations and figures while shape-shifting like a play dough morph. For someone with a PhD in an arcane art related somewhat to economies, Joseph has a remarkable ability to switch from percentages to whole numbers and vice-versa to make his doom-laden speeches sound everso terrifying.

Anybody outside the world of the young Turks polluting the social network with regurgitations from their dear leaders could see how Joseph loves to use the cheap trick of switching denominations whenever it suits him. Sixty-eight thousand people paying no tax becomes four out of 10 earning less than 3,000 Maltese liri. Why Maltese liri? Because the sum multiplied by two point four something would sound too big a wage, wouldn’t it? In case Joseph’s conversion to EU suitability has not been fully upgraded (Joseph Muscat 7 – what political theory do you want to espouse today?) our currency is euros and no longer Maltese liri.

Joseph refused to fall into the blatant trap laid by Lawrence who insisted on setting the standard expected from Joseph’s party as “ta’ Partit Socjalista”. Every time Lawrence mentioned the word “socjalista” you could feel Muscat rubbing his virtual photo-shopped stubble (courtesy of www.therealbudget.com – where Joseph Muscat transmogrifies into Joseph Calleja). Lawrence knows full well how much Joseph’s party is investing in revising its image. Muscat was dying to explain how his is no longer a socialist movement but a progressive moderate one – which we have learnt is a euphemism for “opportunistic bandwagon movement”. But Joseph could not let Lawrence dictate the tempo, could he?

Rings

So we got the circular discussion, in which everyone under the sun yells his point of view from his context and his perspective. And Joseph has a huge problem here. His marketing gimmick is backfiring. This whole reinvention of Labour process is jarring at every step. Let me explain. Count the number of times Joseph tried to stress “id-differenza ta’ bejnietna” (the difference between us). Do you know what that difference is? He is claiming that, unlike GonziPN, MuscatPL can shoulder the burden of past mistakes. Can it? Does it?

While pointing fingers at Gonzi for having implemented the obvious (that’s a J’accuse copyright by the way) with regard to minimum wage, Muscat went on to claim that other PN achievements are the fruit of Labour’s labour. I smelt this one coming from the 5th of October “revisiting labour” conference. Believe me Joseph when I say that that kind of talk will jar with the less volatile of floaters and have them running for safety from upstarts trying to sell the idea that tertiary education is a Mintoffian heritage. Your minions might tweet your quotes on Facebook like some Latter Day Believers, but very few people who lived through “L-Ghoxrin Punt” will believe the lie.

It gets worse. The whole budget debate is pinned, according to Joseph, on the fact that Gonzi did not feel the people’s pains. I’ve written elsewhere about the

stomach-churning absurdity that the use of the term “wegghat” (loosely translated to “pains”) causes among people used to intelligent political discourse but that’s not the biggest problem. As the Prime Minister repeated time and time again, the international approval of the Maltese government’s financial management nullified Muscat’s irritable complaints instantly. Muscat only makes matters worse when he feigns ignorance of the international context and plants his head firmly into electoral promises made before the storm. I was reminded of the “stipendji shah” ruckus I had to face 11 odd years ago with the likes of Simone Cini and Joseph Muscat repeating the phrase ad nauseam and ignoring the new developments and reforms.

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Promises, promises

Joseph Muscat spoke of a fundamentally different vision of the economy between himself and Lawrence Gonzi. And we believed him. We believed him because in the battle of the metaphors between the dad postponing the vacation due to adverse economic conditions and the umbrella in case of rain, the wise daddy won hands down. Because there’s a limit to how far Joseph can shift between acknowledging the existence of an international crisis and suddenly pushing for the removal of taxes within the same half-an-hour.

We believed Joseph because he is essentially still advocating a specific international theory of economic recovery when the world around him has very obviously ditched it. I am referring here to the Keynesian model of spending your way to recovery by putting more money into people’s pockets. Our young PhD wannabe Prime Minister does not seem to have any time to notice that everywhere else this model is being ditched (has he no time for The Economist or Financial Times? – I recommend an iPad with the Zinio app for Christmas). Lawrence tried to remind him. The international reports tried to point out that the Nationalist government’s way forward is sound – especially insofar as managing deficits and employment is concerned. But no. Joseph is busy playing on the “wegghat tal-poplu” and harping on ARMS Ltd (a cock-up true enough, but miles away from being a governmental crisis).

In case Joseph tries to deny his affection for basic Keynesianism, here are his words on Xarabank: “il-flus jigu billi titfa’ iktar flus tan-nies fl-ekonomija”. (“More money comes from throwing more of the people’s money into the economy.”) The bottom line is that in one fell programme the average floater’s approval rating of Joseph Muscat should have shifted from “curious” to “alarming”. The danger is that we are heading for the next election with Muscat fast moving into the seat vacated by Sant – and an election result by default.

New Romance

Those of us who hoped for “change” two years ago are now resigned to more of the same. No matter how much you cannot stand the arrogant hypocrisy of the PN on matters social such as divorce. No matter how much you cannot stomach the haphazard policies on transport, e-development, gambling, construction, the environment and more. No matter all that. Your first priority come next election will be electing a leader in whose hands you can trust the economy. What the country needs is a PN-AD coalition. What it will get is another government by default.

There I’ve said it – the C-word that combines Nationalist economic coolness and pragmatism with Alternattiva’s progressive vision on social rights and environmental awareness. We will not of course have a PN-AD coalition because the rules of engagement are such (as I have repeated ad nauseam) that make an election a zero-sum game of either/or.

Expect another relative majority for PN if voters are wise enough to see through Muscat’s scantily assembled revisionist marketing. Expect a rudderless government as an alternative that threatens to stagnate any hope of recovery so long as the “middle-class” dream of affording air-conditioners, free electricity and tax-free cars to cruise along the coast road on Sunday. You think that’s sad? Don’t ask who is to blame? You know the J’accuse answer.

Such is the level of hypnotic blindness of the average complainer that the only way they could look at the end of the Chris Said saga was as a sort of government-law court conspiracy. No matter that there was as much proof of perjury as there is stubble on Joseph Muscat’s chin in the real world. No. To them the disgrace was that the court case was heard with urgency and that Chris Said was found not guilty. That is the sad truth about modern politics. The lie travels around the world before the truth even has time to put its boots on. With Facebookers repeating the lies and half-truths and with the absence of proper intelligent debate, we can only sit back and wonder what saint we should be thanking for having survived until now.

La Serenissima

Last weekend I was in the Venetian Republic. OK it was Italy but being the historic romantic that I am I will forever dream of the Serene Republic with her double-crossing doges and mercantile spread from the Dalmatian coasts to Accre and Jaffa. The Queen of the Adriatic Sea is a marvel to behold, though I must admit that it does have its rough ways with tourists (thank God us Maltese are polyglots). The growth of a lagoon island into a major power to be reckoned with was attributable to the Venetian ability to read the signs of the times and invest in the right partners. That a city that rarely surpassed 400,000 souls could command such control is a marvel in itself.

St Mark’s Square and basilica offer a tangible testimony of this power with riches and relics plundered from afar. From the four horses atop the basilica (originally owned by Constantinople) to the columns stolen from a fort in the Middle East, the Venetians and their Doges used economic might and an early form of maritime supremacy to fund the building of what is surely one of the most beautiful cities on earth.

I chose this city with its unforgettable scenery to propose to my better half last weekend. After a splendid evening at La Fenice with Donizetti’s Elisir D’Amour (fabulous performance with a particularly grand Nemorino) and a little romantic interlude on the canals, I got a positive response for my very traditional request on bended knee. Incredible no? Who would have said that even J’accuse has a heart!

www.akkuza.com is coming to terms with the life engaged. We can finally explain the last few weeks of distraction – we were romantically occupied preparing for the big surprise.

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Definitely not Bondi+

Here’s an interesting interview with Roberto Saviano. Look out (3 minutes plus) for the explanation on why it is important that investigative (and narrative) programs exist and more importantly that they are paid (and paid well, when they generate good returns from ads). But more importantly look out for how Saviano explains that the biggest justification for having people earning money from these programmes is that they can be judged, that we can expect standards from them and that the job is well done. Next time you complain about Bondi+ don’t get stuck on the typical Maltese pettiness of who earns what and why – remember the crucial point : the obligation Bondi and his team have to provide a quality investigative programme of real journalism. J’accuse will keep on reminding Bondi of his obligation and we will continue to bask in the idea that he actually thinks he can get away selling the idea that he is unaware of any criticism because he can’t read.

“Essere professionale significa che lo spettatore puo giudicare anche in maniera severa. Perche sei stato pagato e quindi devi dare il meglio di te.” – Saviano

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J’accuse : ‘Les sanscouilles’

At the time of the French revolution, part of the French population took to calling another part of the population “les sansculottes”. According to one theory, the name is derived from the fact that the partisans of this particular revolutionary faction wore pantaloons (full-length trousers) instead of the fashionable knee-length culotte. (Wikipedia’s summary). I’ve always wondered why rather than being called ‘Les Pantaloons’, they were defined by what they did not wear, but that must be down to the fact that the point where sartorial affairs and politics converge more often than not involves criticism rather than praise.

Anyway, together with the Jacobins, the sansculottes were among the violent elements of the revolution. Unlike the Jacobins, they came from the working class and have bequeathed us the term “sans-culottism” meaning extreme egalitarian republican principles. The sansculottes disappeared shortly after the fall of Robespierre’s reign of terror and they left us the image of the carmagnole, the red cap of liberty and the sabots (clogs).

In today’s exciting times we have witnessed revolutions linked to colours, such as the red, purple and orange revolutions. We have also, in moments of great social upheaval, witnessed the blooming of “styles” and “fashions” that are a result of or reaction to the current political mood. In that sense, the sansculottes were the precursors to the mods, the punks, the rebels and the twittervolutionaries of today’s world but never, ever in his life would Jacques (René, if you please) Hébert, the revolutionary mentor of the sansculottes, have imagined the possibility of the movement of “les sanscouilles”.

Balls

Yet, all through this past week you couldn’t help but wonder whether just such a movement is forming in our collective sub-conscious and whether or not it manifested itself in the guise of our more prominent politicians and so-called investigative journalists when the divorce issue was once again discussed. Maltese, being the flowery expressive language that it is, lends itself perfectly to explaining what les sanscouilles is all about – and unless the linguistic fascists are hiding in ambush behind some corner, the best way to spell the Maltese version of sanscouilles is bla bajd.

Yep. The sanscouilles movement is made up of a combination of political Farinellis combined with the journalistic eunuchs who tend to fan their divas during performances. Lest I be accused of gender bias, I invite you to consider this whole ballsy business as an extended metaphor that applies to male and female alike. The defining trait of the sanscouilles is their inability to shoulder a modicum of responsibility and provide an inkling of inspirational politics; instead of responsibly taking a stand one way or another, they will wait to see which way the wind is blowing and find innumerable ways to postpone putting their neck on the line.

Contrary to public perception, the notion of the sanscouilles has less to do with ideas of virility and more with the ideal of responsible leadership. A quick run through the week’s events on divorce should really lead this country’s last remaining conscientious voters to despair. The sanscouilles movement is gaining ground… it is out there. It is everywhere.

The Emperor’s Clothes

I was told that Joseph Muscat pulled of quite a performance on Tuesday’s self-referential show of investigative journalism. I was told that by friends of mine who don’t usually bother turning up at the ballot box on Malta’s five-year anniversary equivalent of Doomsday. It was when the press started to report Joseph’s refreshed position on divorce that I wondered how my friends could buy this kind of pitch from a politician who, in the words of a commentator on J’accuse, “appears to have acquired his political education from the back of a Belgian beer mat”.

Then it clicked. Surely the prancing and sashaying of Malta’s prime example of castrato journalism could only have unwittingly (absence of wit is taken as read in most programmes) aided and abetted Muscat’s unprincipled approach to the divorce debate. Of course, if, unlike me, you are more than willing to watch the Emperor march around naked without giving him so much as a word of warning as to his glaring state of nudity, then you too will be equally appeased with his idea of “responsible divorce” combined with a “free vote for his party”.

The presenter’s position is compromised from the start. Comforted by the fact that his bias no longer needs to be declared (it’s to himself, lest you were wondering), his programmes are beyond “boring and dull”, having transformed into a self-referential sequence exposing the very best of selective journalistic incompetence. At any other time, on any other channel, Lou could be playing whatever tune he likes but prime time investigative journalism on national TV deserves much more than the image of castrated journalists playing second fiddle to whatever member of Parliament is on stage at the moment. Given that WE’s other programme has now completely taken leave of all senses and started to discuss close encounters of the third kind, the urgent need of a non-castrated style of journalism is all the more glaring.

But back to Muscat. His particular brand of sanscouillism is of the incredibly non-committal kind while sounding the exact opposite. Unless you manage to cut beyond the words and look into what is really being said, you might as well be listening to Ahmed the Dead Terrorist. Which is why Bondi’s castrato style journalism could not work. If he challenges Muscat he gets reminded that he is biased. If he goes along with him he ends up promising to endorse his “responsible divorce” campaign.

Muscat’s tergiversation stems from an inability to place the divorce issue in real constitutional terms and fails to appreciate his responsibilities both as Leader of the Opposition and aspirant leader of a nation. Divorce is not the kind of “right” that results from some majority-voting stint but is a legal possibility that is enacted in the interests (more often than not) of the few. What Muscat fails to understand is that you can be in favour of divorce legislation without necessarily being in favour of divorce.

Muscat tries to get away with this new-fangled notion of “responsible” divorce as though there is such a thing as irresponsible divorce. Sure we do not want a situation where the mere repetition of the cursèd word thrice would result in divorce like some Red Slippers gone all matrimonial. On the other hand, this shuffling of feet and hiding behind terms is not progressive at all. A progressive leader should have taken the bull by the horns and by this time presented what his idea of divorce should be – caveats and all – and be pushing to get it enacted in parliament for the benefit of those citizens who fulfil the conditions and desire to move on to a different, married life. Instead we get enigmatic “responsible divorce”. Well, so long as it’s responsible. Then again. What if I said “responsible mercy killing”? What say you about “responsible heroin consumption”? “Responsible castration”?

The high kind of pitch

And while Muscat was busy dancing with Lou to whatever music was being played at the never-ending end credits, Malta’s own Don Quixote was busy meeting our Prime Minister on the matter of his draft law on divorce. Now, I have already once more lauded JPO for the single-handed way he has pushed the sanscouilliste movement into some form of action on the divorce matter. On the other hand it was particularly jarring to see the push and pull of the JPO-Gonzi saga shortly after the meeting took place. First JPO met some members of the free press and declared that next year would be a great time for the harvest of both parliamentary discussions and referendum.

What-ho? Yep. The erstwhile backbencher had apparently been given the nihil obstat from up high to announce to the men of the realm that divorce would definitely be on the agenda in 2011, as would be an eventual referendum. Referendum? Did anyone say referendum? Is our hero tilting at windmills, suddenly drained of all mental faculties? Has he too succumbed to sanscouillism? Who on earth mentioned referenda? Do these folks even know how things are meant to work in this constitutional republic of ours?

Better still out came the OPM claiming that, yes, there was an agreement to proceed with the discussion but there was no mention of a referendum and that it would be best left to the electorate to decide. The electorate? It was like being knocked out twice within an hour. No referendum plus the electorate can only mean one thing in my book: that we will wait for the next general election for the divorce issue to be placed in the party’s manifesto and that a vote on the matter could only be taken after such a national vote.

Marchons! Marchons! A la Castille! You could hear the hordes of sanscouilles marching in line. They would storm Castille once again and spread the revolutionary fervour of the ball-less to the four corners of the islands. The divorce question had become a question of pass the parcel all over again and from Muscat to JPO to Gonzi the movement of the sanscouilles could only offer the electorate a castrato version of realpolitik. Wash your hands and let them decide. Pontius Pilate would be proud.

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The seven brothers

Then it came. When you least expected it and from the last place you would expect it. The voice of reason. Seven Church brothers sat down around a table and fleshed out a declaration “on conscience and divorce”. In the land of sanscouillism, seven men of the cloth came up with an eye-opener of a declaration that made you want to stand up on the nearest pulpit or stage and shout “Hallelujah”. Here was a ballsy statement divorced from the fire and brimstone rhetoric of brother Said Pullicino and divorced from the foot shuffling opportunism of the sanscouilliste community. The seven brothers called a spade a spade. And they reminded the whole bloody lot of the sanscouilliste community of the political role of one’s conscience – and one’s responsibility towards both society and one’s conscience.

For yes, there was much more to be read into the seven brothers’ invitation than a simple reminder that a real Catholic votes with an informed conscience. They went beyond that. They had no qualms reminding the devout that “for Catholics divorce is wrong whether permitted by civil law or not”. However, they did also emphasise the importance of evaluating one’s options by acting with an informed conscience bearing in mind one’s own morals and values – in this case God’s teaching.

The seven brothers introduced a new, important angle to the argument. They have not only repaired the damage to the Church’s image caused by Said Pullicino’s media-eval stance, but have provided an important example for the wider society. I dare go so far as stating that theirs is the real Christian democrat position that is miles apart from the tergiversation within the soul of the supposed Christian democrat party of Malta.

This is the how the role of a social actor is fulfilled. With a clear indication and an appraisal of every individual’s role in society and how he should go about fulfilling it. Instead of fire and brimstone, the brothers gave us the duty to inform our conscience and decide in good faith based on those considerations. After all, it is not just votes on the introduction of divorce that require greater reflection and an informed conscience. Someone, somewhere, still has faith in intelligent voters who will get us out of this mess.

www.akkuza.com is still sick of laryngitis. We’re sicker still of the sanscouillistes but still can’t find the right prescription.

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