On Monday, Robert Abela stated a principle of accountability that no one could possibly disagree with. The difficulty, as often with the prime minister, is what he left out, which threatens to make a mockery of the principle.
He was talking about accepting ostracised politicians, found guilty of corrupt behaviour, back into the fold. Specifically, Rosianne Cutajar, the former Labour MP and parliamentary secretary.
The principle: punishment should fit the crime or breach of ethics. Some behaviour is so disgraceful as to deserve a political death sentence – permanent exclusion from public life. Some qualify as a peccadillo, calling for a rap on the wrist and a public apology. And a lot lies in between – calling for temporary exclusion from public office or group membership.
So far, so good. But the principle takes certain things for granted. A person qualifies for rehabilitation only if they recognise they’ve done something wrong. If they refuse to admit any wrongdoing, how can we trust them not to do the same thing again?
There’s something even more basic. Before we can agree that the punishment fits the crime, we need to agree what the crime was – spelling it out.
Obvious stuff, huh? Well, not obvious enough. Cutajar has never admitted wrongdoing. And Abela has never spelled out what she did wrong. He has always used language that didn’t commit him to recognising what investigations into her behaviour concluded.
Before we can agree with Abela that Cutajar has paid her dues, we need him to spell out for us what he thinks she needed to make reparations for. Then we need Cutajar to tell us whether she agrees with Abela.
You may have lost count but the separate charges levelled against Cutajar have been six.
A couple of charges relate to her taking a €9,000 cut from a €40,000 pile of cash passed on to her by Yorgen Fenech as part of a property deal. She did not refer to this payment in her annual parliamentary financial declarations, nor to the taxman.
She says the tax authorities have cleared her (which could simply mean she settled what she owed on undeclared income). And we can agree that slipping up on your parliamentary declaration, once, deserves just a rap on the knuckles.
But she never accepted she did anything wrong. She called the money a gift and cast aspersions on the then commissioner for parliamentary standards, George Hyzler, who had investigated her.
That’s relevant because an omission on her financial declaration arose again in the context of her phantom ITS job.
The three-year contract was for €27,000 a year for 24 hours a week of service. That’s over half a working week but, at the same time, Cutajar also held a full-time job (which paid €44,000) at the office of the prime minister, apart from her duties as MP (another €31,000).
The revelation over the contract caused a furore. She resigned from the Labour parliamentary group before she was expelled, like Konrad Mizzi.
The heat was about why she got the job at all. The contractual specifications had nothing to do with her professional background. She was supposed to “work closely with the CEO to prepare annual budgets”, “review financial and non-financial reports to devise solutions and improvements” and “oversee all operations and business activities” while assisting the CEO, Pierre Fenech, in day-to-day decisions.
It’s time Abela is asked which of the six charges levelled against Cutajar is true. All? Some? Which? None?- Ranier Fsadni
The auditor general could find no trace of her doing anything at all, which tallied with her own description (in private chat with Fenech) of seeking the job because everyone else was “pigging out”.
The CEO protested she did do her job but provided no evidence. She herself has not admitted to wrongdoing.
Getting the job was the major issue here. But there was a second underlying matter. She didn’t declare this income on her parliamentary financial declaration, either.
And, last year, she was saying she didn’t need to. The rap over the “gift” – which had actually warranted a stern report from the standards commissioner – hadn’t been enough.
Then there’s the third set of charges, to do with her relationship – as an MP – with Fenech.
At a time when Fenech had already been outed as the owner of the secret company 17 Black (itself implicated in significant corruption), Cutajar gave a speech at the Council of Europe criticising a report involving Fenech but without disclosing her interest (it was the time when she was helping him close a property deal). Had she not been replaced on Malta’s delegations, she’d have been disciplined by the Council.
She’s never admitted to wrongdoing here, either.
There was a second issue. When it was revealed that she had been on very friendly terms with Fenech after he had been publicly outed as the owner of 17 Black, her reply was to say that she stopped all contact with him after he was arrested and charged with the murder of Daphne Caruana Galizia.
That’s a laughable reply. She couldn’t have had contact with a man under arrest if she had wanted to. But, clearly, she sees nothing wrong with an MP cultivating a strong friendship with a man publicly implicated in money laundering.
Before all this defiance and refusal to acknowledge wrongdoing, Abela has always practised ambiguity. We were never even told if Cutajar was sacked or resigned as junior minister. His words: “It was decided that she would resign.” Well, who decided makes the entire difference.
Now he’s saying she paid the price. But for what? She has publicly admitted to no wrongdoing. If you believe her, she’s a wronged woman and the price she’s paid has been a miscarriage of justice. If you don’t believe her, she’s unrepentant and doesn’t qualify for rehabilitation.
It’s time Abela is asked which of the six charges levelled against Cutajar is true. All? Some? Which? None?
It’s only then that we can gauge whether he’s really interested in public standards or whether Cutajar’s rehabilitation has nothing to do with justice and everything with mobilising the Labour vote in June.