A decade ago, the EU faced its severest sovereign debt crisis in living memory. Established economies wobbled, governments found themselves cash-strapped and even the future of the common currency came into question.

In a situation like that, you’d instinctively stick strictly to doing what’s fundamental, covering the barest minimum to ensure that you keep your head above the water until better times roll by. But instead, the EU did something counter-intuitive. It invested more heavily in its research programmes.

It did this based on past experience, that the more innovative the economy, the quicker it is out of the pits, and the more resilient it is to take severe shocks.

The way things developed showed that the EU’s approach was the correct one. As a matter of fact, when faced with another crisis – this time the COVID-19 pandemic – money spent on research was as significant as the money spent in addressing the immediate public health issues.

Thanks to those investments (some of which had been going on long before the pandemic hit), within only a year, vaccines were developed to prevent a disease which was still quite new at the time.

And the examples do not end there. If, over the years, the chances of survival from serious diseases have increased, we drive cars that pollute less, ICT has improved in leaps and bounds, we all owe it to the fact that someone, somewhere, took a risk and put money so that scientists and researchers made innovation possible.

Robert Abela’s government couldn’t be any more different in its approach. It spent the first half of the year busily hiding the true state of the country’s finances in the run-up to the general election. It didn’t take much time after the electoral result was known for the truth to catch up: the emperor was well and truly naked.

Public entities, which had budgeted based on the rosy picture they had been presented earlier, suddenly found themselves having to redraw their plans radically.

Ultimately, there is a price to be paid for corruption- Peter Agius

One entity which was particularly badly hit was the university. It’s unsurprising, given the low esteem education is held in by this government. To guarantee that salaries continue to be paid and that basic administration goes on, cuts were made to university’s research budget.

Academics I spoke to have admitted that their research projects are at risk and, in some cases, likely to be brought to a premature end. These include projects which have been ongoing for years.

This is nothing short of gross irresponsibility. A university’s prestige is built on its research activities. That is what attracts and retains the best minds.

That need is even more pronounced when considering that the University of Malta is where most research takes place in Malta. Reducing opportunities there means narrowing our country’s ability to rebound from turbulent times.

That’s a complete contrast with the so-called American University of Malta. Not much research going on there – not much of anything going on, really – and it shows in the student numbers which are nowhere close what was promised. Yet, Abela’s government still saw it fit to gift this Potemkin village land worth €60 million. He’d rather put his money that’s backed by foreign investors who do not care much for education and depriving our only national, public university of the funds it needs.

This is not the only case of public funds being directed away from where they are truly needed and towards projects of dubious worth managed by friends of friends. Which is why the cuts the university and other government entities have to suffer are all effectively ‘levies’ imposed to pay for corruption elsewhere.

Because moral and legal considerations aside, that’s what corruption is. You might not care much about it, you might think it’s abstract, far-removed from your daily life, no concern of yours. Yet, ultimately, there is a price to be paid. And you’re the one paying it.

Peter Agius is PN spokesperson and an EU expert.