The massive benefit fraud revealed by The Sunday Times of Malta involves millions of euros and the forgery of hundreds of documents and signatures. It implicates a former MP of the governing political party who, until last year, was also a consultant at the office of the prime minister. And it’s difficult for anyone to see how the scheme could have been implemented without institutional collusion.
Yet, days passed, and the prime minister did not comment directly on the matter (at least, not at the time of writing, Tuesday morning). Nor did the Labour Party, even though the revelations raise the spectre of a partisan vote-buying scheme.
In these situations, silence isn’t golden; it’s eerie. In accountable democracies, leaders promptly distance themselves from a scandal like this.
Silence suggests you’re trying to avoid being compromised. You’re waiting to see what your critics know before you commit to an explanation. And, perhaps, you don’t want to say anything that angers the people who have been caught, lest they begin to sing.
Robert Abela will have to address the scandal. The Labour playbook points to three responses we might get.
First, we might be portentously told that the prime minister’s duty is to remain silent. Silvio Grixti, the former MP at the heart of the police investigation, is innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. Therefore, the prime minister cannot compromise the process.
It’s a laughable response. Are other democracies compromising fundamental rights when leaders speak about scandals like this?
Of course, Grixti – and any other individual involved – is to be presumed innocent. That presumption is, rightly, at the heart of our legal system.
But a different presumption operates at the heart of our political system: government is guilty unless it’s transparent. It’s suspicion of government that drives separation of powers; checks and balances; the need for enforced rules; clear records; freedom of information; and openness to scrutiny.
Both presumptions, of innocence and of guilt, are there to address the same problem: human fallibility. And both presumptions aim to protect Joe Public against abuse of power.
Our legal system presumes innocence because it recognises that those wielding legal power could nail the wrong person; so the system gives the accused many protections against the abuse of power.
When a scandal arises, the authorities are expected to make a statement
In politics, human weakness shows itself as corruption under the cover of darkness. It’s the entire public that needs to be protected against abuses.
So, the system maximises transparency and accountability. Light is the best disinfectant. The least corrupt countries don’t have better people; they have better rules and strict enforcement, more responsibilities and better monitoring.
When a scandal arises, the authorities are expected to make a statement. Not to pre-empt the police or prejudge the investigation. But to say what they knew, when they knew it and what they’re going to do to make sure the scandal is not repeated.
If Abela does not throw light on such questions, we must presume political guilt. No other democratic court of public opinion presumes political innocence.
The second response we might get is that (wait for it) the institutions are working. Are not the police beavering away at the case? Yes, but what about the other institutions that are implicated in the scandal?
In granting disability benefits to some 800 people, many of whom are from Żabbar, Żejtun or Paola, did no one on the medical board assessing these claims ever wonder about the epidemic of epilepsy that seems to have struck these towns?
How were official medical and Transport Malta documents forged? Not to mention the signatures of many medical specialists who had nothing to do with the case.
Aren’t we owed an explanation why, last year, Grixti was still on contract with OPM (and with the health ministry and Transport Malta) despite having had to resign suddenly from parliament in late 2021? If there’s a valid explanation, we should be told.
The third response from the playbook is that, alas, this was a case of having the right ends (helping those at risk of poverty) but using the wrong means. The ends don’t justify the means, of course, but we do need to take intention into consideration.
This is what Keith Schembri told the Caruana Galizia public inquiry, when he admitted that “perhaps I did cut corners”. It’s what Joseph Muscat effectively told the inquiry when he said he retained Schembri and Konrad Mizzi – after Panamagate – because they were “doers”.
It’s what Miriam Dalli, the energy minister, has said about the Electrogas power station – that it has “benefitted” Malta – even though the US government has unequivocally stated the obvious, that the deal is mired in significant corruption.
Corruption begins when the ends justify the means. And everything we know about this scandal shows it is not a victimless crime.
The first victims were many of the beneficiaries themselves: facing poverty, instead of being given a life of dignity as is their right, they were drawn into a web of servile clientelism.
Whoever sat at the top of this scheme was not displaying a socialist heart; they reveal a feudal mind. Labour parties everywhere were founded to insist social justice was a right, not a gift from the rulers.
The next set of victims are those excluded from the charmed circle. And then you have those medical specialists whose signatures were forged – a terrifying display of political power. If a shadowy cabal can forge your signature many times – which means it expects not to be caught – what else can it do to you?
Abela once tried a fourth response. After Malta was greylisted, he told us it would make us stronger; it was all but a blessing in disguise.
Please, prime minister, try that one again. Make us all laugh heartily. We lost three hospitals to a gang of thieves. Public healthcare is going down the tubes. Waiting lists and benefits are manipulated according to political favouritism.
Have mercy on us, prime minister. Help us rediscover that, hospitals be damned, laughter is the best medicine.