In April of last year, I wrote in this column that a public inquiry into whether Daphne Caruana Galizia’s death could have been prevented would be a waste of time and money. In hindsight, I was wrong.
My reasoning was that an inquiry would buy the Joseph Muscat government more time. Muscat’s other and equally precious resource was uncertainty. If the findings proved vague or inconclusive, and they would likely be both, he would simply gain more and denser cover.
That hasn’t quite happened. Perhaps people feel bolder, now that Muscat is no longer Prime Minister. Whatever the reason, the inquiry is not, or not entirely, a waste of time. On the contrary, it’s giving us at least a glimpse into the workings of power surrounding Daphne’s assassination. That it is power at the very top we’re talking about is added value.
Which is why Glenn Bedingfield was in such a hurry last Thursday to assure us that the inquiry had become an exercise in politics (‘tinbidel f’eżerċizzju politiku’). What’s more, it was ‘marred by ulterior motives’ (‘ivvizzjat minn intenzjonijiet ulterjuri’).
Bedingfield is upset, because there was nothing whatsoever that was political or ulterior about the assassination.
The Labour Party, too, can’t wait to see the back of the inquiry. Following last Wednesday’s anti-corruption protest outside Castille (itself a response to developments in court), Labour criticised the ‘time-wasting’ tactics that would result in justice delayed. The party is upset, because there was nothing whatsoever that was time-wasting about Muscat’s two-year political circus following the assassination.
Irrespective of Bedingfield’s and Labour’s wishes, the inquiry is proving to be something of a truth commission. Like others of that kind, it will not deliver all truths. That doesn’t mean, however, that it will deliver none.
Take Chris Fearne’s testimony, which went well beyond the narrow circumstances of the assassination. That in itself is telling, and it is also what Bedingfield fails or refuses to understand.
Fearne was at his most relevant precisely when he seemed off topic.
The more we hear, the more we understand that Daphne’s death was a symptom of a great rot right at the core of government. Much of that rot had nothing and everything to do with why she had to die.
Fearne was clear that Keith Schembri enjoyed the highest degree of political protection. Even with his own Cabinet, Muscat consistently refused to discuss him. No doubt by special appointment to the king, Schembri was also a kingmaker – in Fearne’s case, an unmaker.
Astonishingly, neither the deputy prime minister nor Cabinet were ever brought in on the topic of Daphne’s assassination. That other protégé, Konrad Mizzi, was free to wheel and Vitals deal at leisure. Neville Gafà was given a job in the Office of the Prime Minister right after the deputy prime minister terminated his other job. And so on and so on.
It was as part of the same inquiry that Edward Scicluna testified about the ‘shadow kitchen cabinet’ that ran the Muscat government. It’s a litany of shame which shows just how liberally and cynically Muscat abused the trust given to him by majority after overwhelming majority.
The more we hear, the more we understand that Daphne’s death was a symptom of a great rot right at the core of government- Mark Anthony Falzon
It shows something else, too. Fearne and Scicluna and the rest are telling the truth now, because they didn’t then. I’m not saying they lied. They just pretended everything was fine, as did all the others.
Faced with outrageous misgovernment, they chose to close ranks. Which is where the inquiry really comes into its own.
It will come as no surprise that inner circles tend to close ranks. It’s an unfortunate tendency of many institutions, particularly ones that afford privilege to their members. In the case of politics, it’s also a double matter of party loyalty and self-interest.
The first is that to question your own party is to do a favour to all others. ‘Tpaxxihom’ (to give the other pleasure and advantage, imperfectly translated) is a notion that underwrites politics at all levels, from everyday conversations to votes of confidence in Cabinet.
The second is a matter of pure survival and self-interest. Break ranks and you’re a nut, a Judas, a mercenary or all of those. Certainly you’re not going anywhere near a seat in parliament ever again, at least not with your party.
That much is obvious, but there comes a point when silence becomes complicity. In this case that point was reached, surpassed and then surpassed some more. And no, the argument from pushing for change from within doesn’t hold. Politics is about public life, as opposed to back rooms. An element of behind the scenes is acceptable; an entire parallel system of (mis)government behind the scenes is not.
This, I think, is the key value of this inquiry. As far as individual responsibilities are concerned, the findings will probably be sparse. Nor are they likely to bring about mass resignations (political ducks’ backs are especially slippery).
They will, however, help us understand how hypercorruption at the very top can thrive in a democracy, particularly when it is propped up with misplaced loyalties and a tissue of self-interest.
As for the main objective, enough has already been said in court for us to make up our minds. If Daphne was the direct casualty of corruption, and if that corruption thrived on a complicity of silence, her death could absolutely have been prevented. What was needed was not police protection, but some spine.