In the words of the late and esteemed Oliver Friggieri, 'Tibżax mil poter, il-poter jibżgħa minnek. Ibżgħa biss mill-biża,' [Do not fear power, power fears you. Fear only fear itself'] found in L-Assedju tal-Ħaddiem, lies a profound invocation to disobedience.
On September 21, 1964, Malta gained independence from the British Empire. A decade later, the country declared itself a Republic, and on March 31, 1979, Malta formally bid farewell to servitude as the last British ships exited the Grand Harbour. On that day, Maltese men and women congregated in Valletta and overlooked the port with uncertainty about the future as our final colonisers left. Despite this, for the first time in the country’s history, the Maltese could determine their own future and bear the consequences or reap the rewards of their own actions.
Throughout history, Maltese families have been closely tied to the actions of the ruling foreign powers and the Mediterranean. There is strong evidence to suggest that the island's economic trajectory, particularly during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, was influenced by Mediterranean conflicts like the Crimean War. Notably, periods of economic prosperity or decline often coincided with the onset or conclusion of such conflicts, including notable events like the First World War and the Napoleonic Wars. These connections highlight the intricate interplay between Malta's economic fortunes and the broader geopolitical landscape of the Mediterranean.
As a fledgling nation, just 70 years into our journey of independence, it's no surprise that the dependency and reliance we've developed over centuries remain deeply embedded in the Maltese psyche. This isn’t just a societal quirk; it's a systemic issue that seeps into our political landscape. The way we conduct ourselves politically - with clientelism and favour-seeking being the norm - can possibly be traced directly back to our history of give-and-take relationships with various rulers. It’s as if we’ve been conditioned to operate within a framework of patronage and dependence, making it hard to shake off these ingrained behaviours.
Paul Caruana Galizia’s book “A Death in Malta” references the “The Moral Basis of a Backward Society” by Edward C.Blanfield which speaks of Amoral Familism. This concept describes a social system where individuals prioritize the welfare of their immediate family over the common good.
This behaviour is characterised by a lack of trust in institutions, low civic engagement, and a focus on short-term benefits for the family at the expense of long-term communal or societal gains. In the context of colonialism, colonial powers often disrupted existing social structures and institutions, leading to the breakdown of traditional forms of social cohesion. This disruption fostered environments where amoral familism could thrive as a survival strategy, with individuals focusing on their immediate family due to weakened communal institutions and pervasive mistrust in colonial authorities.
Although Malta bid farewell to colonial rule peacefully in 1979, traces of this colonial mindset persist, influencing politics and governance. The weight of Malta's colonial past manifests in contemporary society, epitomised by phrases like “Prosit Ministru,” symbolising a modernized servitude relationship. In trading loyalty and dignity for arranged jobs and favours, we create a society where connections, rather than merit, dictate success.
When the political class resorts to the distribution of cheques, vouchers and gifts on the eve of elections and encourages direct contact for favours in exchange for loyalty at the ballot, it only serves to perpetuate the aforementioned culture.
This behaviour undermines our democracy by dealing unfavourable conditions to those who wish to challenge the establishment and put up effective opposition. As well as being perverse, actions such as these project an image not of strength and power but rather of insecurity and instability.
These tactics undermine the intelligence of the electorate, and it is prudent to refrain from participating in them. By participating, we legitimise this behaviour as effective prompting those responsible to double down and intensify their efforts in an endless cycle which assumes that voters can be bought and so should be.
Amoral familism is rooted in centuries of social programming and pandering to it or making its practitioners think they are right won't change anything. This is validated by the persistent and cyclical nature of such political tactics.
Compromising morals and values for the sake of indulgence and greed leads to a society where “anything goes,” with a cascade of dire consequences: the sale of our identity for €500,000, the assassination of an investigative journalist by car bomb, increasing numbers in worker deaths, a corrupted, ravaged, and devastated environment, the brain drain of the nation's youth, and the disillusionment and voluntary exile of well-meaning citizens who no longer recognize their own country to name a few.
Perhaps it is telling that when values and morality are discarded for financial gain, and when money becomes our deity, we lose sight of what is right and wrong. Blinded by greed, we only come to regret it later, once we have lost everything and face the consequences of our indifference.
Hannah Arendt's notion of the "banality of evil," wherein egregious acts of malpractice, corruption, and injustice are perpetrated with alarming normalcy and indifference to their moral implications, is starkly illustrated by the fraudulent sale of our most precious asset—our health—jeopardizing present and future generations under this very government and administration.
The audacity to have branded the Malta Labour Party’s European Election campaign as "Is-Saħħa tal-Maltin" was particularly galling in this context, to put it mildly. Similarly, the unjustifiable pillaging of a British-era historical artifact, a part of our collective heritage, by a millionaire political dinosaur contrasts sharply with the swift prosecution of a homeless man for stealing a can of tuna out of desperation and hunger.
This past week, the Standards Commissioner’s findings regarding the awarding of a lucrative contract by Minister Clayton Bartolo to his then-girlfriend, Amanda Muscat, through Clint Camilleri’s ministry have clearly exposed another case of malpractice and misuse of public funds, which further establishes Rosianne Cutajar’s pigging out comment as reality.
In his interview, Camilleri appears cornered, uncomfortable, aggressive, evasive, and, like a trapped animal, lashes out in desperation at members of the press. Instead of defending the indefensible, he should swallow his pride, admit fault, show some humility, and understand that, just like Abela, his place in politics is not some God-given or familial right. He should remember that he serves the public, not the other way around, and that our taxes should never be misused—there's enough of that going around already.
As we descend to these depths, we have also found ourselves lauding and heaping praise on those who merely carry out their essential obligations and articulate what should be considered common sense and basic principles. Moreover, we acquiesce to a leader who, in the midst of an election, lost in a fog of denial, peddled tales of a phantom order to the masses while embodying its very essence.
This is all a byproduct of the insidious banality of evil and the normalization of mediocrity and complacency. As standards plummet and public hope dwindles, society's moral core decays to the point where the righteous thing becomes the rare exception.
It’s a sobering truth that what is ethically right may not always align with personal gain. Selflessness and active civic engagement are essential cornerstones of societal progress.
Only through recognition and self-awareness can we begin the critical work of protecting and restoring trust. Political dissent and open discourse must be encouraged, for this is not a time to stay silent or disengage. If we are to avoid being swept away by the rising tide of apathy and indifference, we must actively nurture and promote critical thinking, and we must voice our disapproval when those in power take us for fools.
We must ask ourselves: are we merely puppets, manipulated by our modern-day masters—the colonizers of our own making—who fancy themselves as gods?
Michael Buhagiar Zahra is a retired history teacher.