In a month, it will be a year since a nameless, desperate man was callously urged by strangers to throw himself off a ledge in Valletta. Even now, I remember the anger, shame, disgust and tears I cried at such a heart-breaking show of inhumanity. I have cried a few times over horrific world events since then but not as much as I cried this week on hearing that three young members of our police force were allegedly rounding up foreigners and taking them to undisclosed locations to beat them up for doing nothing except existing.

The internet has made other people’s pain more accessible than ever. When things happen in Iran, Ukraine and Palestine, we find out about them within seconds. We can donate to their causes, empathise and share their stories, yet, despite our best intentions, a thin veil still separates us. There is still distance, both in time and geography. There’s a level of understanding that we are unable to touch.

But what happens when evil is at your door, periodically knocking? What then? What happens when the people who are meant to protect you start getting monstrous allegations thrown at them? What do you do in a country so twisted by ignorance and fear that people openly defend the indefensible for all the world to see?

Can you imagine it? It’s a random day and you’re minding your own business. Maybe you’re sitting somewhere in the sun after a hard work week. Perhaps you’ve decided to go for a walk. Either way, you’re bothering no one. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, police officers start to approach. You’re confused. You probably haven’t even clocked that these people are coming for you. You’re thrown into a car and taken to a strange, abandoned place. You are then beaten repeatedly. Even writing this doesn’t seem real.

What do you do in a country so twisted by ignorance and fear that people openly defend the indefensible for all the world to see?- Anna Marie Galea

We aren’t living in a war-torn country. Most of the country hasn’t lifted a finger to campaign for anything in the last 40 years. If people are starving here, they aren’t yet at a point where they’ve decided to take to the streets. And, yet, in horrific echoes of the alleged circumstances surrounding the death of Lassana Cisse (whom there is yet to be justice for), three police officers allegedly decided to make a sport out of hurting others. This didn’t happen thousands of miles away. And that is ultimately what makes it so horrifying: who harms people they don’t know for fun?

I want to think that this situation will be resolved quickly. I want to believe that one of the people in our bloated parliament will stand up and say that something needs to change and actually mean it for longer than five minutes. I’d even like to dream that someone apart from the usual suspects will take the time to care about something beyond their apartment walls. The problem is that, after years of disappointment, I know better.

Speak up, call people out when they are disrespectful or unkind; make it known that inhumane behaviour cannot and will not be tolerated. Our world becomes ugly, not because of those that do wrong but because of those who stood by, watched and said nothing.