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J'accuse : Be Forgot

To those who have already broken their New Year resolution. To those who are still holding on. To those who are determined to save on electricity bills. To those who are reading this in the comfort of an electric stove. To those who will wait until the Three Kings have come before starting to put away their Christmas lights and decorations. To those for whom Christmas is another word for “humbug”. To those who woke up this morning still reeling with a mild hangover from two nights before. To those who have already been to Mass and read the papers by 10am.

To those who thronged outside the newsagents exchanging New Year greetings and wishing everyone all the best. To those who sent their offspring round the corner to pick up the paper. To those who picked up a couple of pastizzi or pastries on their way to the newsagents. To those who skipped breakfast to better enjoy mum’s Sunday roast and their share of the big feast leftovers. To those who love mustard with their turkey and to those who still have not had enough of the cranberry sauce. To those who forgot to wear red underwear on New Year’s Eve and to those who never understood how people could believe such crap.

To those who think carpe diem. To those who already have fixed appointments for the 15th of August in the afternoon. To those who live to work. To those who work to live. To those who will wear out more of their travelling shoes this year and to those for whom the piazza or the promenade is their oyster. To those who double park to rush to Maxims, Champs or Sphynx for their supply of cheesecakes. To those who prefer Muscat’s pizza drenched in cheese and oil as it spills onto their shirt while they munch and drive. To those who still favour Lollies Bar and its incredible “hobzabacon” (one word, if you please). To those who will grow up switching between ftira and sushi.

To those who like me have fallen for more of the Apple products over the last year. To those who will do so in the coming year. To the poor BR who still insist that “Apple is just about the status”. To the law class of ‘99 – it was a pleasure catching up with you again these holidays. To the Saint Benild ‘75ers who are still trying to arrange a get together after all these years. To the ones who no longer spend a penny on newspapers because it is all available online. To those who still love to thumb through the real thing. To the new graduates fresh from their buscades. To the illiterate of the 21st century. To the sad fact that the more time goes by the more it seems that even the illiterate can graduate.

To the mothers and fathers of mediocrity. To the Nationalists and Labourites who still think party politics is akin to football support. To the parliamentarians and to d’Hondt and his system. To the one-seat majority and the pure entertainment it provides. To Nikki Dimech, Paul Borg Olivier, Robert Arrigo and Jeffrey Pullicino Orlando… even better than the real thing. To Daphne Caruana Galizia, Magistrate Scerri Herrera, Robert Musumeci and the plate vendors in Bidnija. To our sorry pink press and the innumerable ways in which it gets the wrong stories even wronger. To our beleaguered police force. To the up and coming “politicians” from the two big stables.

To those who have thought “sod it, there may be money in that but I still have my pride”. To those who think with their own head. To those who find thinking with other people’s head more convenient. To the fence sitters. To those who still think that there is some hope in thinking different. To Gakbu Sfigho.

To Lawrence and Joseph and to George. To their consorts. To the Archbishop and Bishop. To the pro-divorce movement. To the pro-life movement. To those who want to save the animals. To those who want to save the birds. To those who want to save their right to express themselves. To all kinds of journalists from the most sincere to the most biased. To Lou Bondi. To Peppi and his crew. To the indefatigable Reno Bugeja and Dissett. To those who would definitely eat rabbit every day. To those who think it’s just a furry little defenceless animal. To those who insist Flyunfair is a cheap alternative. To those who would rather get what they pay for and fly Air Malta.

To the fellow columnists of this paper. To the colleagues in the “rival” Sundays. To the elves and trolls posting comments all over the place. To those of you who have read through every single one of last year’s J’accuse columns. To those who rightly insist it’s a tad too long for their taste. To the programmes that are already streamed online. To Tim Berners Lee for the window he created for expats to look into the goings on while away from home.

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To Jeffrey Pullicino Orlando for once again being the most talked about personality and pulling off his second J’Accuse Personality of the Year. To the protagonists of Plategate and to Austin Powers Gatt for their respective second and third slots. To tweeters and facebookers for making this world a smaller place. To tweeters and facebookers for making the global village a tad bit more claustrophobic. To tea in the piazza with a view at Mellieha and to a stroll down Republic Street just before the shops close. To the Baywatch pensioners in Qbajjar and to the great service at Arkadia. To Kinnie and Twistees.

To another year of J’accuse and to David, Noel and Rupert for the quick exchanges every Friday. To Lara for all those Friday nights waiting for the article writing to be done. To all of you for bearing with this wankellectual nonsense churned out on a weekly basis. To the shorter articles starting from this week. To all that and more.

Wishing you all a magnificent 2011.

www.akkuza.com comes to you live from the Eternal City at the start of 2011 – our lucky year.

This article appeared in The Malta Independent on Sunday on the 2nd January 2011.

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J'accuse: Dying Myths

Dr Rowan Williams PC, DPhil, DD, FBA the 104th...
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Number One: God

It’s been one hell of a myth-busting week, one of the groundbreaking variety. It all began with the revelation (this time not in Patmos) that Stephen Hawking’s new book includes the following bold assertion: “Because there is a law such as gravity, the universe can and will create itself from nothing. Spontaneous creation is the reason there is something rather than nothing, why the universe exists, why we exist. It is not necessary to invoke God to light the blue touch paper and set the universe going.” (For a dramatic touch read to this last paragraph while playing Mendelssohn’s And Then Shall Your Light Break Forth).

Hawking has not managed to completely dispense with the figure in the sky completely as many a Dawkins would undoubtedly prefer, but he has got quite damningly (in a Dantesque sense) close by asserting that the figure in the sky was not a determining element in what many religions term “the moment of creation”. “God the Innocent Bystander as the universe sparked into life” is definitely not going to go down well with many a deist on this earth – let alone the Monsignor Gouders of this island who are still putting forward the complex and highly relevant (and Dantesque) notion of classification of sins applicable to politicians performing their civic duty.

It was refreshing to read the reaction of senior members of the religious community in the UK. From Rowan Williams (Archbishop of Canterbury) to Lord Sacks (Chief Rabbi), the argument ran on familiar and (from my point of view) very comforting lines. Sacks summarised it beautifully in the simple but eloquent phrase: “Science is about explanation. Religion is about interpretation.” There you go – quod erat demonstrandum and all that. It threw me back to the days of yore when I was quizzed by Brother Mifsud (a brother of the learnéd Jesuit variety) as to whether or not I believed in the sun and that it would rise the next day. My unequivocal “yes” would earn me a harsh slap on the head and a (confusing at the time) explanation that you cannot believe in something that can be proved – such as the very sun shining through the window.

Belief, by definition, requires an act of faith. Whatever has been proved no longer requires belief. And that is where Hawking, Dawkins and all the rest will find that the new brick wall is to be raised. As the Archbishop of Canterbury put it, “Belief in God is not about plugging a gap in explaining how one thing relates to another within the Universe. It is the belief that there is an intelligent agent on whose activity everything ultimately depends for its existence.” Hawking may spend valuable time and energy telling believers that nobody really threw the switch (it was automatic) only to be dismissed with the phrase: “Yes, but who put the switch there?” He just has to thank God (or his lucky stars) that we live in the time of Benedict XVI not Urban VIII and there is little chance of his being summoned to the Ratzing-court for a forced recanting of his ideas.

Deep down, most religions do not even care or need to care about proof that there is a god. Religion works with or without such proof – like Schrödinger’s cat opening the box is not the whole point of the experiment. It’s not that hard to reconcile oneself with this new reality of mutual exclusion. Science is built on proofs and has no place for leaps of faith, or as French mathematician LaPlace best put it in answer to Napoleon’s question on why he made no mention of God in his works of astronomy “I have no need for that hypothesis”. The inverse is true in the case of faith as the Tourist from Tarsus once defined it: “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen.” See? Everybody’s happy. Except maybe Schrödinger’s cat.

Number Two: Those infallible Americans (and Brits)

On 31 August the number of US troops in Iraq was down to 50,000, as promised by newly elected President Obama 20 months before. Obama might still be in time to save the face of the world giant by stage-managing a strategic withdrawal (though it will definitely not be called that) from the zone of combat/stable democracy. Tune into any documentary on the US time in Iraq and you will be convinced that the stay has been anything but a success. The US joins a long list of world powers that have understood that the Middle East is nobody’s playground. Next Afghanistan.

George Bush’s partner in crime for Iraq has been busy publishing his memoirs, and although he might have expressed a tad bit of regret for whatever pushed him to invade Saddam’s jolly land in conjunction with his bumbling cousin across the ocean, he has less regrets closer to home. Blair has joined the list of clairvoyants who were apparently very confident that Brown’s term in power would be quite a cock-up of an affair. Insofar as myth spinning is concerned, the business of memoirs seems to be quite the ticket. Follow Jesus Blair (you’d be excused to thinking he’s the new Messiah) on his peripatetic attempts to save the world, the UK or the nearest local council, and you will be left with little doubt as to why the man abandoned the Protestant fold and marched straight into the comforting arms of Catholicism in a much publicised move towards the end of his tenure.

Meanwhile, in Westminster, a senior minister of the Tory-Dem coalition is rather angry at the gossip and spin culture perpetrated by the media and blogging world over the past few weeks. William Hague is in a bit of a fix because of persistent and undying rumours of his being gay (and of consequently having favoured gay partners) that have persecuted him since his entry into the world of politics. The great Tory orator is not new to PR slips but this time the story seems to be a conjecture of the whisper corridors that plague politicians and public figures. Apparently, Hague had opted to share a twin hotel room with an aide of his on one of his travels. That, and the close relationship he seems to have enjoyed with this young man, seems to have attracted the paparazzi moths to the limelight.

The aide had to resign from an advisory post earlier this week and only on Thursday, Hague’s wife had to break the silence on a very private aspect of the life of the couple in order to clear any niggling doubts as to the sexuality of the politician. It is always despicable when spin-monsters cut and slash into the private lives of politicians just for the sake of it and without any concrete proof. Hague has become disillusioned with political life, but then again he might come out of this saga in a stronger position.

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Number Three: Those Magnificent Men in the PLPN

Michael Briguglio penned a good article this week (Sliema: Reaping what was sown) and it appears in J’accuse (www.akkuza.com) with his kind permission. Mike begins his article by stating that “the last local council elections were a clear example of how, at times, factors that have little to do with political vision influence electoral results”, and ends with a clear exhortation to the voter “if you want change, vote for it”. It would be stupid of me, or of anyone, not to read Mike’s invitation as a class bit of promotion for the party he chairs, but there is much more to this line of reasoning than simple a third litigant enjoying the ills afflicting the two behemoths.

Whether it is PL, PN or AD (or any other “political party” as defined under the Local Councils Act) presenting lists of candidates for your perusal and selection in local council elections, we have long laboured under the impression that such candidates have been selected by way of their being the best people to put into effect their party’s programmes and policies at local level. I am not one of those trigger-happy people who feel that the current spate of scandals vindicates Alfred Sant’s idea that political parties should keep out of local politics – far from it. I strongly believe (in a scientific and not in a religious manner) that a well thought out structure in a political party system that backs candidates in different localities can only enhance participative democracy and not degrade it.

That however is the ideal standard (why does that phrase remind me of toilets?). Ideally, party politics pervades the local level by bringing the administrative competence, the structural continuity and the value based commitment. Factually, as Mike has been ready to point out, party politics seems to be importing the rotten mentality that has been nurtured through years of practice of stagnant bi-partisanism. Power for the sake of power and not of service, cutthroat and inbred competition within the corridors of the same party and unregulated financing and sponsorship can only carry on for so long before exploding in the perpetrators face.

DimechGate and its cousins have shown the voting public the ugly side of voting through blind faith. Interviews carried out by internet papers among the Sliema population brought up two ugly truths (caveat lector: the interviews do not constitute a scientific survey): First it became clear that Nikki Dimech was elected mainly on the strength of the guarantees of a hidden saint or sponsor, which, combined with the PN nihil obstat assured the voters of a winning horse. Secondly, and more astonishingly, few, if none, of the interviewed had any idea of the mayor-elect Joanna Gonzi. It is a surprise mainly because someone, somewhere must have voted her in too – and with a number of votes inferior only to Nikki Dimech among those obtained on the Nationalist list.

Sliema is only one example of many voting through faith and not reason, as is the norm. It may no longer be only faith in the parties themselves but also in the complex system of saints and sponsors that is a throwback to the times of Cicero’s Rome. DimechGate will not provoke the kind of cleansing that a tangentopoli could have. PLPN have found a quick exit door via the washing of hands and responsibility. In a way they could do not other than ostracise the erring members of their wide net of candidates – true. On the other hand, we could ask questions of the structure backing the elected candidates once in place. Could a hypothetical council member who has been approached with a bung/suggestion for corruption resort to a party structure for support?

Are lawyers at hand to deal with such situations? Simple training and advice could create a sense of responsibility and awareness among elected councillors. This is where the role of party structures is desirable. A party could provide trained councillors – trained to face different situations at council level. Have our parties abdicated this side of their responsibility? Worse still, are parties too well entwined with potential providers of bungs (sponsors and donors in politically correct parlance) to be able to prevent their corrupting the local levels of our politics? In other words, does the infamous JS list extend to the local level or are other similar lists being refined at a lower level?

Number Four: ‘La Vecchia Signora’

I promised myself that should Juventus purchase Marco Borriello towards the end of the summer window, I would put my faith in the bianconeri in abeyance for a year at least. Although the transfer fell through I still have to be convinced that Juve are worth following this year – the insistence on the Italian label and on no brain to give the team some form of tempo is a formula for tears.

www.akkuza.com has resumed the discussion on impeachment and local politics. It’s never been a matter of faith.

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J'accuse : Overnight Bags

It’s that time of the year when the arrival of the weekend heralds the packing of the overnight bag and a trip to some destination within driving distance of the Grand Duchy. It also means that the quality of the articles submitted to the Indy suffers from a telegraphic transformation as it is well nigh impossible to maintain a steady flow of coherent thought at about the same time as the mind wanders in parallel with what the encyclopaedia of the world has to throw at us.

Put briefly, the normal source of inspiration for the weekly J’accuse fare comes about as a not too summarised précis of the events populating the Internet of the previous week. At this time of the year, when the walking shoes are put on, we also add an extra set of feelers and listen to what the rest of the world is offering beneath its sun-kissed (hopefully) skies. For example, while the TV in some drive-by motel might announce record figures at the Edinburgh Fringe, and thus remind us that Art is more than alive and kicking in the more rational parts of the world, we prefer to sample this first hand by going out and about.

Walk through the cathedrals of illumination that are the bookstores in Blighty and you only stop for a minute to question whether that feeling of weirdness ever existed before getting your hands on a compendium of erotic literature that spans the centuries (The Collected Erotica – 2000 years of erotic literature available online at Waterstones) and pay for it at the check-out counter without feeling like you have violated a myriad laws of the state. “Life is easy abroad,” they will tell us Luxembourgers and Bruxellars with a wry smile. “You have no business reminding us how sad and oppressed the people of Malta are” they will say as they admonish us with much pointing of fingers and many a jealous gaze.

Intransigence

Funny how summer tends to bring out a regular parade of individuals intent on negating the attachment to Malta of their fellow countrymen simply because we do not have Malta as our one place of fixed abode at the moment. Apparently, we are no longer to be called expats but transfrontaliers or something of the sort. The phenomenon is not new on the continent; a Frenchman who commutes to Luxembourg for work will always consider himself to be a Frenchman rather than anything else and will be more worried about the advances (or otherwise) of Brother Sarkozy than in the intrigues of Juncker’s Luxembourg.

We are, however, the brigade that exists outremer (overseas) and that regularly pours articles of concerned disdain about the mishandling and mismanagement of our country. Our unbiased judgement (by national standards) is more often than not mistaken as some form of intellectual snobbishness since we can afford to stand aloof – far enough that we do not even need to peg our noses to avoid the stink. Woe betide mollycuddled (sorry Raphael, I like this version more – another jaccusism) expatriate tax-avoiders should they type even one word to criticise the goings on in the land of Milk and Honey.

Tired of the PLPN rant, I resolved to use the eighth month of the year for mental regeneneration in the hope that new ideas replace the mantra of old. No more Fear and Loathing in Valletta for us. In the meantime we notice, without any trace of humility, that the blog “e-volution” has been a partial catalyst to some form of mediatic development that was previously untraceable. Paul Borg Olivier will choose his boat trips more carefully next time around and he will do so because – notwithstanding all cynicism and conspiracy theories – such trips no longer go unnoticed.

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Emancipation

Last week I criticised the Front Against Censorship for its choice of medium for protesting against the current state of the freedom of expression. The reaction to my criticism has prompted much of this article this week. I stand by my original statement – not with any intention of discouraging the young lads (ah, how I yearn for the folly of youth) from their task, but rather to urge them into more proactive action. Bring the Fringe to the streets of Malta. Fill space with ideas and darkness with light. The protest is not just a means in itself, it could become the very expression that the Front are rightly reclaiming.

The Internet is a wonderful medium of empowerment and expression. It is still, I believe, an unknown factor in Maltese social life and politics. We have still to see what the numbers are behind the equations – what is a “popular website”? , “What can we consider to be the maximum threshold for a Maltese website in terms of hits?” “how net literate are we?”. New battle lines are being drawn on the ether as Google controversially toys with the concept of “internet neutrality”. After its bumpy honeymoon with the Chinese giant, Google still seems to be hungry for power that ill befits its slogan of “Do no evil”.

Books

No overnight bag would be complete without a book to accompany you on the journey. I still have not got used to the e-book reader thanks to the hundreds of snags afforded by proprietary rights so I still depend on the printed word. I’m stocking up on a mixture of classics this summer – books I should have read long ago. From On the Road (Kerouac) to Kafka’s Castle through to a gigantic compendium on the history of Christianity. The best catch of the week has to be Thucydides’ History – an illustrated bumper hardback that is a veritable time machine into the days of our forefathers.

When I tire of the books, I switch to photography and editing – a new, very amateurish hobby of mine. Books and cameras will accompany me on any journey. During that journey I will sample the goods and delicacies of the lands I visit – like the memorable Winston Churchill burger I once washed down in Chaucer’s Canterbury. It was a home-made burger with all the right spices coated in sweet onions and a lovely capping of melted Stilton. As rudely pleasant as the Wife of Bath (God bade us for to ‘wexe’ and ‘multiplye’).

Art cannot die because if art dies then mankind is dead. It accompanies us to the depths of the earth. This expression business has really stuck in my head more than any other issue that has been in the headlines in Malta recently. It is a sad situation at the moment because it is a sad reflection on a country with so much potential that can only be wasted thanks to our trend for internecine warfare and jealous ideals. Frankly, I’m switching off the thinking cap for the next few weeks as I absorb, absorb, absorb.

For the world has so much to offer. If we’re prepared to listen that is.

www.akkuza.com is sort of packing its bags every weekend this summer. Join us in the interim and check out our views. As we type, publisher Chris Gruppetta has guest posted about what he thinks is the next big step in the freedom of expression saga. Gesundheit.

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J'accuse : Nolens Volens

Art is not dead. The Front Against Censorship (FAC) may parade along Republic Street in a make-believe funeral, along with the usual suspects and hanger-on politicians, proclaiming that Art with a capital “A” is henceforth to be considered defunct and that the muses shall muse no more. They may paint the words “Art is dead” along the length of the coffin carried solemnly to the beat of the drums and the roar of the megaphone, but what they profess is a lie.

Art is not dead. It is alive and kicking in all its forms – from the amateur to the mediocre to the professionally entertaining. Whether it is to be seen prostituting itself in exchange for monetary tokens of appreciation, or whether it spontaneously erupts from the pen, the voice or the flash of one who has just been visited by the aforementioned muses, it continues in its existence quite happily and oblivious to all the fuss being made about its very own death.

Last week’s procession of the dozens (I am guilty of not attending but not for the same reasons as John Attard Montalto MEP) only contributed to the general theatrical air surrounding the whole issue of “censorship v expression” and risked becoming another caricature in the running saga. The Front has come up with a list of instances when art and expression have supposedly been on the wrong end of the long arm of the law. They range from the banning of biblical figures during carnival to various photo shoots being called off (remember the model in a cemetery?) to the infamous instances of Realtà and Stitching.

It’s now official – the Front has become a full-fledged whingeing member of this molly-cuddled pseudo-democracy. Theirs is not a reaction of artists angered by risible instances of conservative hypocrisy but the reaction of brainwashed citizens who actually believe that a coffin and a couple of megaphones is what it takes to get the dominant elements of our society to wake up and smell the coffee. In this country, where counter-culture translates into simply being a normal 21st century cosmopolitan person, our “artists” have chosen to abdicate their responsibilities.

‘Opera morta’

I shall not pretend for one moment to be able to define art. What I do believe is that in times of societal poverty and intellectual blandness, society sub-consciously depends on its reserve of artists and intellectuals for inspiration for change. Rarely has society welcomed artists and intellectuals with open arms – rather, it has more often than not kicked them down and attempted to silence them. On the other hand, those artists who have been trampled upon and shunned did not congregate in the middle of the main thoroughfares of Europe to protest “It’s not fair” but preferred to use their art to expose the hypocrisy of their very persecutors. Action. Reaction.

Not in Malta though. My suggested choice of action for the artistic fraternity would have been a self-imposed nationwide moratorium on the arts. No more plays by actors, no more songs to be sung and no more paintings to be exhibited (continue in this vein). A silent veil would be drawn over the whole works as the supposed audience is starved of such outlets of expression. For if the Civil Court – when assessing a play from the point of view of a reasonable man – is unable to grasp concepts such as suspension of reality, metaphors and the very essence of representative art, then it is not art that is dead but the very spectators that have slipped into some sort ofpermanent coma.

The FAC should not be angry at the “authorities” (even in their wide definition of the term that includes private art galleries) but should get busy urging artists to embark on a nationwide awareness campaign of what art is about and why it is an integral part of the soul of society. They should be provoking the man in the street to think himself out of the self-imposed rigidity and vacuum bubble. Rather than writing eulogies on Art’s tomb, they should be making the sorts of noises (or silences) that bring the current situation to everyone’s attention – using the very medium whose death they are supposed to be lamenting. My idea of a moratorium is only one way of making the right impact. When I bounced that idea off some friends they reacted typically: “Who would notice?” Would anyone notice that the artists have gone on strike? Is our situation that dire?

Willy-nilly

It all boils down to the “audience” or rather to the citizens that make up our Republic. They are citizens brought up on the Myth of Saint Paul, the Bedtime Story of Count Roger, the Saga of the Great Siege and the Narrative of Malta – Blitzed but Not Beaten. Our tiny nation has had its defining moments that were then cemented with the musical chair moments of Integration – Independence – Republic – Freedom – European Union Membership. We read the story line convinced that, like the Israelites, we too are the chosen people and that fate will inevitably look favourably upon us and that everyone and everything in the world will owe us a living because we are after all the islands where civilisation practically kicked off – how else would you explain the Neolithic temples?

Try to look back at the narrative again and introduce one new element – inevitability. Think of every step as having been inevitable – that it would have occurred with or without, and not thanks to, the inhabitants of the time. Saul of Tarsus or no Saul of Tarsus, we would still have had a couple of hundred years as a mostly Muslim people and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Roger was the last of many of Tancred’s sons scrambling for some territory, and although the story of the Great Siege would make for a lovely Guy Ritchie film it would not be the last of its kind.

There were similar perils to “Christendom” faced in Vienna and Buda, and the Ottomans only turned away because they got distracted elsewhere. Meanwhile “Christian” Europe – seeing another day and another Hail Mary thanks to the valiant Maltese (no doubt) – would soon be immersed in a fratricidal war that would render any effects of La Valette’s last stand hugely inconsequential (the Thirty Years War pitting Christian versus Christian).

The Malta-centric narrative is badly in need of a couple of blows to the stomach. Our political representatives have long feasted on our gullibility within this context and fed us more propagandistic drivel fit for the 20th century. I have once before drawn the opprobrium of die-hard Nationalists by stating that European membership was an inevitable obvious step for this country and we got there in spite of our political establishment and not thanks to any part of it. The PN was lucky enough to have a blind, incompetent adversary who believed (for an incredibly long time) that membership was anathema and thus could step into the shoes of supposed saviours of the nation – much like good old Dom had conned the other half of the nation into believing the Helsien joke a couple of decades before. In a normal, civilised and rational country, we would have been joining the EU without so much as a referendum. The equation was all too clear – out was not an option, it was a disaster.

Yet. Yet. Yet. Even in the most obvious of situations – a no-brainer – a large part of the population had to have the wool lifted from its eyes and had to be dragged unwillingly – nolens volens – along with the rest. Still I find the assertion of Nationalist flag-wavers that “dahhalnikom fl-Ewropa” (we put you into Europe) so pathetically absurd. Little do they know what a great part they had in almost getting us to miss this supposedly most obvious of targets. Sic transit gloria Melitae (Thus passes the glory of Malta).

Mules and asses

The latest “discussion” (should I say dialogue) on censorship and divorce has once again brought out the nolens volens element of Maltese society and of its most honourable representatives. You can imagine one great mass insisting as obstinately as possible on moving against the signs of the times: “because it has always been so”, “because those are our values and traditions”, “because God wants us to be his soldiers” and other such drivel. We are by nature a people who would have been ignored by history but who, through an incredible twist of geopolitical necessity, seem to always end up in the thick of some action or other (and manage to take the credit).

The fundamental right of expression and the civil right of divorce are a bit more complicated than the no-brainer of inevitable membership of a large economic and political union. This time, fate and destiny might not be so willing to lend a helping hand and we risk becoming the victims of our own obstinacy and our conservatism founded on myth. It is time to break the old narratives and rediscover our true likeness in order to better understand where we want to go next. It’s not going to be an easy task.

The tsk-tskers and tut-tutters in Balluta who turned on the bikini-clad lass like a mediaeval crowd of peasants minus the pitchforks exemplify the type of people who will have to be dragged nolens volens into the age of reason. Then there were those who harassed the prankster who had the audacity to pitch a deckchair on the hallowed ground of Saint George’s Square (The Times report claimed that some people hurled insults at him). There’s the huge mass of automatic voters who cancel each other out at the poll every five years, and then there’s plenty more where those came from so it will take more than a coffin ride through Republic Street to swing the balance away from their considerable (voting) clout.

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‘Eppur’ si muove’ (and yet it moves)

Meanwhile, Tonio Fenech’s men have published the Pre-Budget Document and I am using it as my choice bedtime reading for the next week. I’m already horrified by the government’s idea of “creative works” – surely, given the current environment, a statement like “Government is committed to championing the creative economy” is grossly misplaced. There are other interesting insights to be had from this pre-budget document entitled “Ideas, Vision and Discussion” and I’ll have more to say about it next week.

In the meantime, a bit of news from that other intransigent, conservative institution of power. The Vatican has been getting some heat with regard to the radio masts of Radio Vaticana. In response to allegations linking their masts to tumours the Radio responded: ““Il nesso tra tumori e onde elettromagnetiche non è scientificamente dimostrato” (The link between tumours and electromagnetic waves has not been scientifically proven). Scientifically proven? The Vatican? Now if you don’t see the irony in that one, don’t ask me to help you…. I’d hate to have to explain it in (the civil) court.


www.akkuza.com is back at the home away from home. The weather here is miserable, which probably explains the time we have to spare for “Ideas, Vision and Discussion”.

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J'accuse : Intemperate Winds

It’s a windy Sunday, or at least it’s supposed to be. That’s if the weatherman got his calculations right and a strong wind should have been blowing across the island since last night acting as a downright spoiler to whatever estival events you might have planned. For me that means that a boat trip with the extended family will not be taking place this afternoon and that I will have to forego the last visit to the various nooks and crannies of Comino and Gozo. To others, this ill wind scattering uninvited across the isles has meant a forfeit of an evening of melodic entertainment with Malta’s favourite musical son and Signor Cocciante.

Doubtless the anti-open theatre lobby will already be smirking and repeating the “I told you so” mantra about the usefulness of open air theatres and events in Malta. The crowing started earlier this week when the predicament of the European Baroque Orchestra showed up the limitations imposed by our humid environment on most instruments in open air. To be fair I did not really see the point of so much complaining when I sat through the splendidly set Midsummer Night’s Dream in the Argotti gardens (Bravo Globe Theatre people). While the occasional firework might have proven to be a slight distraction every now and then, the most distracting noise on the evening turned out to be a tiff between cats towards the end of the performance.

All this probably leaves a hung jury on the business of the pros and cons of outside performances at the end of the day although I am beginning to be convinced by the arguments favouring a revision of the City Gate plans to incorporate a roofed lot where the Opera House used to be.

Mistral

But back to the ill wind. It has been a splendiferous couple of days barring the couple of hours when the sweltering heat combined with the drenching humidity sufficed to send any reasonable man in tilt. I cannot stop singing the praises of some of Malta’s finest beaches – top among which must be Ghadira Bay. It might take a humungous effort of coordination and civic consciousness but the crystal waters and the absence of beach louts are enough to make you want to visit the beach again, again and again. Undoubtedly Malta’s best advert is Mother Nature herself.

Unfortunately we do not seem to be too keen on preserving the more natural side of the equation. It’s not just nature in the tree-hugging sort of sense. There are also more modern kinds of pollution that lead me to marvel at how tourists are not abandoning the islands in droves. Whatever happened, for example, to the rule/law of no major construction works in tourist areas in the summer months? Have the PLPN benefactors had their way again? Why does the man with the jackhammer still wake up anyone within listening distance of Church Street, Paceville at 8am and how does he walk away from his job after four hours daily of constant hammering. Does not prolonged use of a pneumatic drill turn a man into a human vibrator?

Another thing. Who, and with what divine inspiration, allowed the myriad cranes to apparate along the main thoroughfares of Paceville without so much of a by your leave? Paceville must be the only corner of Malta to witness 24-hour gridlock. The carefully planned (do you smell the sarcasm?) blockage of more parking spaces in Saint George’s Road (for Pender Place trucks to exit occasionally) must be second in uselessness only to the massive new “No Parking” footprint (at least six places) blocked out by the new boutique student harem/hotel known as The George. You would think that if new hotels come complete with underground parking they need not block a whole street of parking places.

Scirocco

Out on a boat trip on Friday (course reunion – never put 14 lawyers in one boat – which is why we used two) I could witness the growth and growth of the buildings along the coast from Valletta to Comino. Sliema is particularly impressive though not, obviously, to the levels of the Manhattan skyline that one can see on an evening trip on the New York Water taxi. A question that rings through your mind as you cruise along the beautiful waters is how much public land is dedicated to private building and foreclosed from public use. The saddest picture of them all must be the tiny tower dwarfed by a hotel in the Saint George’s Bay area. It yells for help surrounded by the walls of concrete – a fate soon to be shared by the tower at the end of Tigné Point.

One of my colleagues raised an interesting question regarding the foul smelling tuna farms. Technically speaking the area of the sea in which these tuna farms are kept is public property. How much of that public property generates returns to the benefit of the nation? Which set me thinking that if this was Venezuela we’d have nationalised the tuna farms ages ago. Instead we make do with a pittance of taxation on a product reared on public property and which incidentally leaves a nice oily trail on our seabed. Spiffin’.

Levante

Leaving nature and the seabed behind us there’s still things political going on in this island of Don Camillo and Peppone. News of Sliema’s young mayor being locked out of his own council’s emergency meeting made the headlines this week as yet another mayor seems to have to deal with a mutiny on his hands. This follows hot on the heels of the Fgura incident where another young mayor was sidelined by his own party – supposedly for his own good. Are the young studs of the PLPN stables finding the kitchen too hot to handle?

Meanwhile in Zebbug it was not the mayor making the headlines but the parish priest. Father Daniel Cardona erected a temporary billboard (we assume it is temporary for there is a temporary indulgence of 21 days from the requirement of Mepa permits if a billboard has a socio-religious function). The infamous quote of Malachi 2:16 has now become “God does not want divorce” – to which the obvious answer should be “God has no vote”.

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Now I have no problem with the Catholic Church or members thereof airing their opinion publicly about the best future of civil legislation on the institute of marriage and its possible dissolution. As any other member of this open society of ours, and as one which has long influenced its staggered progress towards the future, the Church too has a role and understandable influence on what happens in our society. Which does not mean to say that its “catholic” and universal elements still hold automatically. If the civil debate on whether or not to allow divorce should centre around the issue of whether deities approve of such dissolution then we might as well resort to augurs and the slaying of goats on altars as we read the signs in their entrails.

This is proving to be hard to explain to the weak-willed believers who are unable to come to terms with the fact that the availability of divorce does not perforce mean that they themselves will be forced to avail of it. I should hope that we will not get stuck discussing the finer elements of divination while ignoring the more secular of arguments that should be relevant to this discussion. Once again J’accuse laments the fact that the only party with the balls to take a definite stand on the issue of the introduction of divorce is the one that has been effectively ostracised by the voting population. Such is our ironic predicament. Bring on the cohabitation Bill – there seems not to be a Malachi quote to tell us of God’s will on that particular issue.

Libeccio

I’ve left the worst wind for Gozitan commuters for last. I didn’t spend enough time on Gozo this time round and must make amends as soon as possible. Last Sunday though I did get to eat at one of Gozo’s best kept secrets. Il-Lantern restaurant at Marsalforn (part of the guesthouse in Qbajjar Road) serves what is probably the best rabbit spaghetti and stew in the whole of the Maltese islands. A footballing buddy of my youth, Rafel, braves the heat of the kitchen to provide you with a five-star homely stew fit for the palate of a king. Don’t expect refined silver service – it would not befit the ambience – but do expect a welcoming smile and good hearty food that your grandma would enjoy without batting an eyelid. Sunday visitors can also buy the Indy on the way in.

It’s been a fun break back home packed with sun, food and sea. It will be hard to slog back to Mitteleuropa where the winds are known to reach over 120 km/h and where most concerts and activities are held indoors in magnificent theatres but a man needs to get bread to the table. Even if most of it is gluten free. I’m over and out from Paceville, Saint Julian’s, Malta.

www.akkuza.com returns to Luxembourg by Tuesday. Back to basics and blogging for Malta’s longest-running source of indy punditry.

This article and accompanying Bertoon appear in today’s edition of The Malta Independent on Sunday

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J'accuse : Courting Justice

I’ve just watched Ghana get unceremoniously kicked out of the World Cup by an unsinkable Uruguay team. Having already witnessed a despondent Brazil being outmanoeuvred and outwitted by a resilient Netherlands, I started to strongly believe that there is no footballing god. When Luis Suarez punched the ball off the line in the last of the 120 minutes of an incredible football match, I had hoped that, finally, some divine justice had been served on a plate and that the Black Stars would be the deserving representatives of a whole continent, come the semi-finals.

Instead, up stepped the hapless Asamoah Gyan – a 25-year-old gentle giant who had outrun and outlasted everyone else on the field – and he took the weight and responsibility of a whole continent in those last fatal steps before opting for power rather than accuracy and slamming the ball against that fateful crossbar. Uruguay had been let off the hook and the Russian roulette of a penalty shootout ensued.

It was too much for the Ghanaians, who had ran their hearts into the ground and given it their all. They were out, and with them were the hopes of a whole continent. Like Cameroon (England in 1990) and Senegal (Turkey in 2002) before them, Ghana proved unable to break the jinx of the quarter-finals for the African representatives. You had to yell it in the end. “This is unfair. This is not how it was meant to be.” The air was pregnant with exclamation marks of disappointment. The whole of the world (ok, except maybe large parts of Montevideo) cried out for justice.

Just Desserts

It’s a slippery business this justice thingy. Take football for example. It revolves around a set of rules that are (mostly) over a hundred years old but which continue to be interpreted and applied in real time by that most reviled species of human beings – the referee. Argentina’s first goal against Mexico, Luis Fabiano’s handling of the ball before scoring, Van Bommel’s uncarded efforts to destroy the legs of half the Brazil squad and, of course, the ball that crossed the line for everyone except the Uruguayan ref (there you go again with Uruguay) – they are all instances of split-second justice-making deliveries by a human being. In each case there will be a nation yelling “foul”, yelling “injustice” as well as yelling a few more unprintable expletives directed at the referee, his assistants and, in some cases, his immediate family.

Leaving the unprintable expletives (and the reason why, apparently, they are unprintable) aside, have you noticed that the subject of justice and the dispensation thereof has had a particular week in the spotlight that was not limited to the performance of the whistle-bearing men south of the equator? Justice – “the constant and perpetual wish to give everyone that which they deserve” (Corpus Juris Civilis) – often makes it to the headlines in the media but so much attention in so many different forums is a rare occasion that merits close attention.

Supreme

First up, the US Supreme Court where Chief Justice Roberts is coming to the end of his tenure. He is most likely to be replaced by Elena Kagan, the Solicitor-General whose confirmation hearings were underway in the Senate this week. Yes, one good thing about the method of political appointment in the Yankee system is that the proposed judges have to pass through the scrutiny of the representatives of the people during which they are asked questions on a variety of topics that might end up before them in court. Having seen this procedure in action, the articles in local papers this week calling for the respect of the principle of “seniority” in the appointment of new judges tend to look a bit frivolous (we’ve got vacancies thanks to Justice DeGaetano’s move to Strasbourg and Justice Galea Debono’s retirement).

Most important courts decide in a collegial manner – that means that the decision is not attributable to one judge in particular but is a decision of the group of judges forming the particular chamber making the decision. The practise of dissenting opinions (UK) might go some way towards giving a more personal touch to the decision – and in some cases leads to accusations of activism among some judges. The US are pioneers in this respect too, since records are kept of which judges voted for what decision. It is, in fact, possible to track a judge’s track record in decisions of a court much as you can track the voting record of an MEP at the European Parliament.

Chief Justice Roberts is a strong case in point. It turns out that in the five years he served as Chief Justice he was in the majority of the cases 92 per cent of the time. The Supreme Court has been dubbed “the Roberts Court” because of this statistic. During his tenure as Chief Justice, the Supreme Court has delivered some major rulings that have signalled a shift from its minimalist phase to a more assertive approach.

[Errata Corrige: Chief Justice Roberts is NOT resigning as erroneously asserted in this article. Chief Justice is there for life (a bit like a pet) – it is Justice John Stevens who has retired and will be replaced by Elena Kagan – thanks to Indy readers the Jacobin and John Lane for the quick corrections this morning]

Only last year, a 5-4 decision in the Citizens United case meant that corporations were allowed unlimited spending in elections (reported in J’accuse – remember?). It was not to be the only controversial decision. It also ruled that a government law that makes it a crime to depict cruelty to animals violated the First Amendment (Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances). Sound familiar?

Human

Across the big pond another Court was in the news this week. The Strasbourg ECFHR was in session listening to the pleadings before it in Italy’s appeal in what has come to be known as the “Crucifix Case”. The Strasbourg court has the wonderful facility of streaming live webcasts of big sittings of the court so we were lucky enough to watch the pleadings of the parties and main interveners (Malta also intervened by the way) to the case much earlier than expected. I watched a streamed version of the pleadings two days later, mainly because my curiosity had been piqued by the presence of one of my former Bruges professors on the team representing 10 of the intervening states.

Professor Joseph Weiler spoke for the intervening 10 countries (Armenia, Bulgaria, Cyprus, Greece, Lithuania, Malta, Monaco, San Marino, Romania and the Russian Federation), all of which were supporting Italy’s case to keep the crucifix in the classrooms. While Weiler agreed with Italy’s ultimate aim, he disagreed with the position taken by the Italian representative who described the crucifix as a passive symbol with no relation to teaching, which he describes as secular.

The issue, according to Weiler, is that the court must be wary of “the Americanisation of Europe with a single rule that goes against a multiplicity of constitutions”. This side of the Atlantic, Christian countries have the right to define themselves with regard to their religious heritage. More than half the population of Europe lives in states that cannot be described as laique. The state and its symbols are essential to democracy. The professor reminded the court that it is because of our history that many of our state symbols have a religious dimension. In essence, Prof. Weiler criticised the Court’s first ruling because it failed to distinguish between private rights and public identity. While the Court may have every right and duty to impose an obligation on states to ensure that their public schools are not a place which is “religiously coercive”, it must be aware that there is no “One Size Fits All” manner in which this may be achieved.

Weiler’s solution is not to take tolerance too far as to make the very rule promoting tolerance intolerant. He showed how this could happen by asking whether the Court’s earlier decision should mean rewriting Great Britain’s national anthem (God Save the Queen) or the Irish, German and Maltese constitutions, all of which invoke religion in one way or another. It’s a hard act to follow, and the Strasbourg court still has to decide on the matter, but it also goes to show that the difficult matter of balancing rights and interests is not as straightforward as our emotions might lead us to believe.

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Stitched

Which brings me to the 82-page masterpiece of our very own Constitutional Court. You will by now have heard of the Stitching controversy and the way it was decided by Malta’s Constitutional Court. The decision of the Board of Censors was upheld by the Court by way of a curious bit of not so linear logic. Reading through the motivational part of the judgement, you get the feeling that emotions and morals trumped the necessity to ground the reasoning in legal justification. Like the ECFHR judgement banning crucifixes from classes, this latest product of the Constitutional Court might require revisiting – maybe in the Strasbourg court itself. Taken to the extreme, the application of this judgement would require a rather punctilious and efficient policing and censorship force and threatens to obliterate a substantial amount of media from the Maltese landscape.

It might still be early to cry “injustice”, and it is definitely not the time to yell expletives towards the referees in question – especially judging by the level of tolerance advocated at that particular freedom of expression. It’s not time to be alarmist but definitely time to be activist and explore the limits of this particular interpretation of the island’s mores. Pleasures, they say, yet to come.

European

In our corner of the judicial sphere, the tempo is mighty hectic before the relative lull of summer. Which is why J’accuse has gone through an extended hiatus after the New York break. We will be back soon enough to report from the island itself on our well deserved visit. We are equipped with new blogging tools, including the amazing flip camera and an amazing Macbook that is absolutely stunning. Pity about the hitches Apple is having with the iPhone 4 (antenna problems it seems – quite a blooper for the company) but we will remain diehard supporters of the logo and all its products.

Be seeing you sooner than you think in Malta. In the meantime, remember: “Expecting the world to treat you fairly because you are a good person is a little like expecting a bull not to attack you because you are a vegetarian”.

www.akkuza.com will be migrating to Malta in 10 days time. Heavy blogging activity is predicted.