The Maltese narrative has lost one of its most famous personalities since Independence: Guido de Marco – lawyer, politician and professor – is with us no more and the state’s sons and daughters rightly mourn the passing away of one of their most respected brothers. I am not one for writing moving obituaries, particularly of the kind considered to be delectable (and politically correct) among us Maltese. Fear not though, this is not a prelude to some horrible piece of disrespect by this writer but rather a shying away from the clichéd echoes of prefabricated sashaying of respects.
I found last Friday’s editorial in the Independent (“Guido and all our past”) a perfect description of Guido the man beyond Guido the collector of honorifics and titles. It was, in fact, the appreciation of Guido the man – outside of his ‘cursus honororum’ – that struck the right chords for the natural non-conformist in me. I too share an admiration for what Guido the man built through his love for the law, his amiable personality and his perennial road of discovery for the middle ground preferably through what he came to describe as the politics of persuasion. It was this man – a man who I did not know well enough – who probably was “perhaps too big for this country”.
For I am sure that Guido must have carried his enthusiasm and love for society from his early forays into student politics over half a century ago and that he bore this throughout his magnificent career. The closest I could get to Guido was as my criminal law lecturer as he patiently broke down the principal tenets of criminal law phrase by phrase, principle by principle in that calm but deep voice and in that slightly irritable Italianate twist. “Italianate” might usually be better used to describe a style of architecture and not to qualify an accent that emphasises and complements the Latin side of our Arabic language but that too was Guido – using the parts of speech and tricks of the art of oration as building blocks to drive his persuasive truths home. In his hands, even an obvious statement could become the unravelling of a mysterious truth hitherto unknown.
La contrattazione dolosa
I will never forget Guido’s description of the elements of proof in a criminal case as the ‘pillars that hold up the arches of truth’. The reason for this particular memory is a short anecdote from my time as a law student. It was the ‘oral season’ some time in 1996 when football had gone home and students gathered around a hastily assembled TV screen in the CCT building watching some football match from the European finals in anticipation of being called to the next room for the oral part of the examination (all the while hoping that they will be able to recall Carrara’s definition of theft before slipping into naming Italy’s first XI).
Orals would proceed late into the day – oblivious to the more important goings on in the world of sport – and I think I remember a colleague of mine turning up for his oral examination in tears right after England’s elimination so it must have been late in June. Anyway, the moment I was called in to the dreaded room I tried to put all footballing thoughts behind me and concentrated on the task at hand. Prof. de Marco (for that was his guise that day) sat before me along with two other examiners and immediately tried to put this nervous student at ease with a warm welcoming smile.
The usual pleasantries over, Profs got to give the parting shot and he asked me to describe the importance of the elements of proof and evidence in criminal proceedings. It was that usual feeling of having won the lottery for I could still see Profs pacing up and down the lecture theatre delivering his explanation on the “pillars that hold up the arches of truth” full of metaphors and parallels that drove the idea home. Just before I launched into the same detailed description I had heard in class, Profs’ mobile phone rang and he politely excused himself and moved to the back of the room to treat what undoubtedly must have been a more important matter than a third year student’s recollection on the importance of evidence.
Di cosa altrui
So I launched into this whole metaphorical description when all the while the platform before me lay bereft of the most crucial and understanding of listeners. The remaining examiners tolerated me to speak on for a while as their jaws fell further towards the ground. At one point the chain-smoker of the examiners decided to put a stop to what he evidently considered to be a load of waffle (the robotic examiner nodded in consent) and decided to remind me that this was Criminal Law not Classic Architecture. All the while, the only person to whom my side references to columns and artistry could have made sense was still lost in conversation with his back towards me and only returned at the end of this curt admonishment.
By then I had lost my nerve and even failed to hang on to the safety net thrown at me when I was asked to define homicide and blurted out a memorised definition of theft instead. Guido looked at me with a mixture of pity and consternation, probably wondering what had happened during his short absence and how I had descended to such depths of criminal misery. The rest of the oral is a blur of squirming out of the deep pit I had allowed myself to be drawn into, but the biggest lesson I learnt from it was that the art of metaphors and oration is one thing and cannot be hastily copied by any Johnny-come-lately especially under the duress of an oral examination.
Fatta invito domino
Last Friday’s The Malta Independent editorial described Guido’s passing away as “leaving a gaping hole in our national consciousness”. Guido will not only be remembered by that gathering of acolytes who are as common to our political landscape as are backhanders and nepotism but he will be remembered by a whole nation that is still coming to terms with the concepts of justice and liberty that embodied the very struggle of which he was one of the memorable leaders.
The man that was probably too big for his nation embodied a set of values that you could clearly agree or disagree with. There was no shuffling of feet and hesitant murmuring of the dithering student under examination – there was instead a clear assertion and sense of purpose. It is not by chance that Prof. Guido de Marco was the man who submitted Malta’s application to the European Union in the full understanding that our place was at the heart of the European Community.
The “gaping hole” in our national consciousness is also reflected in the gaping vacuum among the new generation of politicians unable to follow in the giant steps of their state-forming predecessors. Clarity of values has been slowly and gradually supplanted with the opportunistic waving of flags, and the vocational side of political service has all but disappeared. It is a telling truth that one of Guido’s most quoted phrases these days is the one where he thanked the Maltese people for allowing him to serve them for 40 years. Service: a sadly maligned word that has lost its former glory in this world of ambition and egoistic fervour.
Con l’animo di farne lucro
Farewell then dear Professor. When the emotions have calmed and the memories have been sifted you will surely still be remembered as a great man and a great politician. You chose an awkward time to leave us Guido (not that you had much say I presume). As the calm of Santa Maria weekend approached, this island of constant oxymorons threw another of its irrequietous tantrums with another explosion that from above might have seemed to be a last salute to your memory. It was an explosion that reminded us that we will never learn and that this stable democracy might probably do with some strong leadership. One that every once in a while lays down the law for the good of the people – no matter how much they might grumble and whinge.
You left at a moment when the very branches of this democracy are being shaken to their ends. It is a moment when local councillors of all shades are learning that politics is actually a matter of service and not a business for gain and pleasure. It is a moment that cries out for innovators and visionaries to replenish the dying souls of the centres of ideology in this country of ours, when the very party in which you proudly obtained most of your achievements is very evidently subject to a struggle for a new updated identity.
We are at odds with ourselves on many matters Profs, still scandalised by streakers long past midnight when most of us are in bed while we choose to close our eyes to the many obscenities that happen in front of our noses. We attempt to attract all of Europe’s greatest gamblers to our virtual home while raging against the gambling machines in our villages. We marry and we separate, as has happened from the beginning of time, but some of us still believe that divorce will bring on some new Armageddon.
Carrara
As yet we still have not got an effigy of Guido cast in carrara marble somewhere on the islands. There will probably be a time when such a statue will be erected by admirers of this most respected of Maltese sons. We do not have to wait for this to happen though in order to be able to remember the heritage left behind by il-Profs. The subtitles in this article are a homage to the criminal law lectures he delivered (architecture and all). Read together, they form the classic definition of theft by the Italian author Carrara. (The wrongful removal of an object, done without the consent of the owner, with the intention to make a profit thereof).
It’s going to be a sombre Santa Maria weekend, at least that’s what it looks like from here. We might profit of this quiet as a moment of much needed reflection as the nation takes time to mourn the loss of one of its respected sons. Farewell Guido, we are honoured to have had such a great servant among us.
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