In the same boat of Malta <i>hanina</i>

Michael Zammit Cutajar's suggestion, that it would be more appropriate to describe as 'boat people' those hapless beings who end up on our shores as they sail the sea in pursuit of a haven from the actual or perceived hell of their origins, has fallen on deaf ears. Everyone continues to call them 'clandestines' or illegal immigrants.

We are too busy listening to ourselves indulge in fresh controversy, rather than understand that, as regards this phenomenon, apart from in so many other matters, we are in the same boat.

Using the term 'boat people', as considerate Michael suggested, would not make the problem go away. It could, however, help to define it better, thereby helping those of us crowded on our own Malta boat to understand and try to tackle the situation in a somewhat different manner. And, without unnecessary fruitless squabbling.

Those impelled to flee various locations in north and deeper Africa, do not set out to try to enter Malta, a place they probably have never heard of. Their destination is the mainland of southern Europe. That is what they pay, somehow, those who are prepared to take risks in order to profit from their plight to ferry them across the open sea.

Those who end up in Malta do so because nature, in its mysterious way, combines with callous boat runners. These exploit this latest edition of the wretched of the earth knowing they cannot offer the slightest guarantee of a welcome anywhere, or safe passage along the way. Mysterious nature becalms some boats, or heaves them about in storms, leaving them parched and dehydrating.

What are the Maltese authorities to do, whoever happens to be steering the ship of state? Do any of us really expect them to instruct those responsible for our external security to drive away, with threats as well as cannon, if need be, the boat people, irrespective of their dire plight? They are often at the end of their tether, a number of them having already given up the ghost in terrible fashion before the craft ferrying them arrived in the waters of Malta hanina - merciful Malta, as they still call it in Tunisia - or wherever else they could find succour.

All of us are faced with this dilemma - we cannot for one moment consider bottling up our humanity, becoming deaf and dumb to these hundreds of boat people who suffer and possibly die if we turned them away. We cannot absorb them without limit - our space is restricted, our resources strained.

Controversy will not change those basic realities. There needs to be a pooling of effort to see how the conflicting elements of the dilemma can be, if not reconciled, mitigated. There needs to be more space and resources prepared for the continuing inflow. That would not encourage an increase. Merely recognise the inevitability that the 400 boat people who have arrived in recent weeks are not the sum and end of the flow - not, that is, unless we resolve the conundrum by pushing the boat people out to sea again, not caring whether they survive or not.

Someone can also take the initiative to set up a fund to aid the boat people during their time among us. One may say that the government should foot the bill, is already doing so and that comes out of tax payments. Malta hanina is renowned for a far different attitude. Few peoples give with the readiness we do collectively - to local charities, to disaster funds and charitable activities abroad.

This is a human disaster happening in our midst. True, at times the behaviour of those who are given refuge here, albeit on restricted and tight terms, is not acceptable, whether it results from sheer frustration and desperation, or betrays ingratitude. But, as a giving people, we should and can rise above what may be an understandable mildly angry reaction.

Meanwhile, our authorities have to intensify their efforts to heighten awareness, in the EU and United Nations fora, that this is a problem too big for us to handle alone. Even if we pull together as we should do as a people in the same boat.