In memory of the life and work of Daphne Caruana Galizia

When we think history, we tend to think of ‘big’ names – Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King, Emmeline Pankhurst, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf or in a different context Marie Curie, Ruth Ginsberg, or Albert Einstein.  In Malta, we might think Emmanuele Vitale, Agatha Barbara, or Guido de Marco.

Thinking further we could list famous social movements or events – the US Civil Rights Movement, the 1936 Jarrow March, the Suffragette Movement, the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, or the many, many environmental campaigns. Each of us will have our own particular examples from different times and parts of the world.

But when asked to think history, we seldom reflect inwards and think of ‘self’. We tend to see ourselves as the subjects of history rather than its architects, let alone its creators. We think of ourselves as being ‘in’ history but not as ‘making’ history. 

But we do, and we do so routinely and regularly. We do so in what we do and often in what we don’t do, especially when we know we should and could do. Our decisions and indecisions are part of the tapestry that is history.

Still, we tend to prefer to think that history is something that just happens ‘to’ us and ‘to’ others.  It is a process over which we exert little or no control; it is something beyond our capacity to influence or change. Our education system, family and community upbringing tend to re-enforce the message – history is not made by ‘little’ people. 

And yet, if we reflect further, nothing could be further from the truth. History is initiated, shaped, and given life by millions and millions of ‘little’ acts by ‘little’ people. They create the platform upon which the ‘big’ names perform. And this is as true of Malta as it is of anywhere else.

Recognising this reality, ‘owning’ it and acting on it is fundamental to the future well-being of Malta and the Maltese. Ignoring, or worse denying, recent Maltese history including its dark and evil side bodes ill for the country’s future. Leaving the future for ‘others’ to sort is both a denial of citizenship and responsibility.

In this sense, history is not only about the past but crucially about the future. Many Maltese people are in danger of losing their place in their history, denying themselves and their communities any sense of agency or capacity in shaping that history. History is left for others to ‘do’ often with devastating consequences. 

Such an approach amounts to nothing less than a fatalistic and pessimistic vision of Malta – somehow forever doomed to follow a negative path. Waiting for a better, more positive future history while bemoaning or ignoring today’s history-making is extreme foolishness.

Especially so when there are many alternative paths and options available to us should we choose to explore them and act on them.

When the history of these recent Maltese times is written, what kind of history will it be? Will it simply be a record of entrenched criminality, the choking of democracy, the emasculation of key institutions with the apparent approval of a majority of people? 

Or will it be something entirely different; a time when that ‘other’ Malta asserted itself, insisted that ‘enough is enough’, took back control and generated a fundamental rewrite of history? 

Waiting for change to occur ‘at the top’ is clear folly. So where then does change begin?  Borrowing the words of Eleanor Roosevelt on human rights – it begins in ‘small places, close to home – so close and so small that they cannot be seen on any maps of the world’. 

It begins in the life of the individual person and in the neighbourhood in which they live. In the school or college, in the factory or farm or office. Change is made in such places, and it is, by and large, made by ‘ordinary’ people doing ‘ordinary’ things that when multiplied become extraordinary. 

As US anthropologist and activist, Margaret Mead noted ‘…never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.’