Both primordial and secondary elements of identity include ethnicity, language, religion, cultural values and customs, a distinct historical self-view and a sense of territorial bonding.23 Malta would certainly appear to qualify on all these counts to the untested eye of an external observer.

After a long history of colonisation of at least five millennia, the Maltese come across today as a people with no internal racial tensions or traits, united by the Catholic faith, speaking a unique language and based on definitively precise limestone blocks comprising just 315 km2.

Yet, one may hazard to proclaim that Malta today is a 'nationless state', a 38-year-old sovereign unit where the nation is yet to be formed.

It is easy to condone references to a monolithic 'Maltese society'.24 Such a definitive term fails to render justice to sub-cultural traits among the Maltese;25 the concept betrays a sociology of absence with respect to the existence of (albeit very small) minority groups such as Indian entrepreneurs or retired British pensioners.26

But history, acute population density and the pervasive socialising powers of Catholicism have tended to erode many cultural differences over time. It would therefore be fair to define Malta as a "crossroads island" with a "cosmopolitan and polyglot" population reflecting the "...ethnic and linguistics mixtures of Phoenician, Arab, Sicilian and British colonial influences".27 Other than in extreme cases, ethnicity is not a relevant analytical category to contemporary Malta.

The Maltese Islands certainly qualify as pioneers in imaginative statecraft, having been held as a distinct fiefdom by Aragonese and Castillian landlords in the late Middle Ages and subsequently having spent a long period (1530-1798) as the seat of the Knights of St John of Jerusalem, a theocracy which ruled over Malta in an interesting chivalric and pioneering version of the European Union.

Specific nation-building initiatives as such were however not encouraged by the ruling elite, including the Maltese aristocracy of lawyers, medics and priests, a comprador bourgeoisie even in a cultural sense which traditionally and linguistically associated itself readily with Italy.

Indeed, the eventual unity of Malta with Italy was a policy later pursued in the early- to mid-1900s by various exponents of the strong Nationalist [sic] Party (NP);28 while various of the NP's leaders, many with declared Fascist sympathies, had to be interned to Uganda for the duration of the Second World War when Malta served as the critical fulcrum of the British war effort in the Mediterra-nean theatre.

The legitimation of Maltese as an official language by the 1930s was a largely unintended outcome of the struggle for cultural (and political) supremacy between Italian and English, the latter being the upcoming language of the new middle mercantile and administrative classes during the period of British rule (1800-1964).29

There was absolutely no struggle for political independence - granted by Britain on September 21, 1964 - and its pursuit was again a 'second best' option after attempts to secure full integration by the Malta Labour Party (MLP) with Britain had failed in the late 1950s. Premier Dom Mintoff did negotiate successfully to extend the date of the eventual dismantling of the British military base in Malta, the mainstay of the local 'fortress' economy, up to March 1979.

This is not to argue that Malta has had no nationalist birth pangs.30 An undercurrent of anti-colonial resistance has been active in Malta certainly since the late Middle Ages.31

Even before Malta was officially declared a British colony at the Treaty of Paris in 1814, there was already agitation for representative rights and institutions by members of the Maltese clerico-professional elite.

The spontaneous 'bread riots' of June 1919 did bring about a reassessment of the assumed loyalty of the Maltese and paved the way for the first self-government constitution in 1921. Still, the one 'national' rebellion to speak of in two centuries occurred during the brief French occupation (1798-1800).

Then, the Maltese rose against their new occupiers when the French started despoiling the local Catholic churches of their gold and silver artifacts. Interestingly, it was in favour of the interests of the local Catholic Church that the Maltese rebelled; and clerics played a key role in organising the uprising.

The power of the Catholic Church in Malta cannot be underestimated, even today. The Catholic Church and its ethos and ceremonies remain today the closest to a national Maltese symbol.

In spite of evident secularisation, around 70 per cent of the population attend weekly Mass regularly; a third of all young Maltese complete their schooling in Church schools; and most young Maltese have to attend long hours of 'doctrine' to qualify for the sacrament of Confirmation.

There is one church or chapel for every square kilometre on the small archipelago, and many remain in use. Most of the arts - including music, drama, sculpture, painting, folk stories - are patronised substantially by the Church and have explicit religious themes. Fully 70 per cent of the Maltese identify commitment to religious values as their top priority in life.32

The decisions of the Catholic Church's ecclesiastical tribunal in declaring the annulment of marriages or otherwise is recognised in the civil courts. Malta remains the only European country which has not legalised divorce.

Malta's long years as a Catholic fiefdom facilitated the emergence of a local ecclesiastical hierarchy, which exercised strong political and cultural influence. This in turn has bred a national mind-frame strongly determined by religious precepts of propriety and morality.

Thus, non-Christians have been historically relegated to the status of 'heathens' or 'infidels', and in this way have served as a convenient 'other' to the Maltese. The contrast aggrandises the role of the Catholic faith and Church in moulding Maltese national identity, albeit in non-secular fashion.

This unfortunate comparison belittles opportunities for expanding Malta's links with its North African neighbours; and, in turn, enhances a subliminal fascination of the Maltese with a European calling.

The hegemony of the Catholic Church in Malta has been dented most seriously in its drawn-out confrontation with the MLP in the 1960s.

The Church had then not supported the MLP's campaign for Malta's integration with Britain for fear that its interests would not be well safeguarded and would eventually be eroded in an Anglican British state.

The Church may also have had serious concerns that the charismatic Mr Mintoff had communist tendencies which - given his well publicised overtures to China, North Korea and the Soviet Union - might eventually translate Malta into a secular state where the Catholic Church would lose out.

In a bitter showdown between Church and political party in 1961, the top MLP officials were interdicted by the Church; the faithful were advised that voting for the MLP would be tantamount to a mortal sin; and MLP activists were denied the sacraments and were buried in non-consecrated ground.

Religious services of reparation were held at those public spaces that had hosted MLP meetings; this included the sprinkling of holy water. The crisis served to harden the resolve and commitment of the core MLP supporters and peace was only made in 1969, two years before the MLP was returned to power.

Such high drama is still within the Maltese population's living memory, including the bulk of the current political and religious leadership.

Malta's proportional representation system with only two political parties represented in Parliament is unique in Europe. With the allegiance of the voting population - just 281,000 at the latest (September 1998) election - split neatly down the middle, the difference in voter support between the two main political parties has never been more than 13,000 votes since 1971.

In such a situation, a 'winner takes all' political system prevails. A candidate requires close to 3,300 votes to get elected to the 65-seat national Parliament, a small number which institutionalises close personal and patronage links between politicians and their constituents.

The MLP and NP are today 'catch-all' parties which deploy both conventional and modern techniques for both the mass and customised socialisation of citizens into loyal, unswerving party faithful.

Each political party now has its own television station, radio station and newspapers; its own emblems, flags and anthems; not to mention the web of party clubs and committees spread all over the country.

Information on the voting preferences of each and every Maltese is a key and active concern of the political parties. In the dense, claustrophobic social atmosphere - there are almost 1,250 persons per square kilometre - the presence, if not control, of the party is supreme and complete:

"Partisanship in this polarised polity is so pervasive, ingrained and linked to class ideology and locality that preference patterns are known by street. Loyalties are strong, stable and rooted in social and family background...

"[C]andidates can employ networks of family and friends to promote their election chances and to achieve greater social control over their sympathisers. They may also be able to reward their known supporters if elected ..."33

With the overriding, transverse influence of the Church - now keen not to involve itself in partisan politics - the Maltese are, from cradle to grave, called on to express loyalty and commitment to any of these three "total institutions".34

The political party thus takes on itself the characteristics of an ethnie, a moral community, extending the locus of empathy, trust and identification with others as if in an extended family.35 Loyalty to the state and to the ethnie may easily be perceived as being on a potential collision course.36

The strong sense of partisan identification and the (real or imaginary?) pursuit of partisan-driven clientelism may easily override any sense of national patriotism to the larger civic and territorial whole.

While the casual observer may dismiss the relevance of ethnicity from Malta's socio-political landscape, a local form of bicommunalism based on political ethnicity is current;37 an implosion of the democratic Maltese state as a result of partisan ethnic fragmentation appeared well nigh possible in the constitutional crisis of 1981-84.38

In this incessant, internal struggle for loyalty and support, Maltese nationalism has lost out. The notion of the nation as an 'imagined community' becomes relevant.39 National symbols remain significant in their absence and, where identified, are quickly taken over and co-opted by partisan and/or religious motifs.

A brace of poets and writers have struggled for some years to raise the spirit of nationalism, but their message fell on deaf ears and rings strangely hollow.40 Some academics have sought to emphatically announce the cultural maturation of Maltese nationalism, much like a natural development, particularly with the onset of political independence: "Malteseness came of age... The new state was, after all, an old nation."41

But is this not more properly appraised as an exercise in wish-fulfilment? Is this not part of the unconscious obligation to defend and justify nationalism, especially de rigueur in newly independent states?

The alternative explanation propounded in this paper is that the battle for the definition of Maltese national identity has yet to be joined. We may be an 'old nation' in a cultural sense, but politically this nation does not disclose or manifest itself, whether to the inside or to the outside world.

This critical assessment can be taken forward in relation to various analytical levels.42 First, in specific situations that concern dyadic relationships, an easily manageable touristic front is resorted to by the Maltese in relation to foreigners, and in which case the language of communication is typically English; among themselves, however, the Maltese develop an intricate knowledge of the partisan affiliations and loyalties of friends, family and acquaintances, effectively mapping a network of potential influence, patronage and obligation.43

In these instances, the interaction is strictly aural-oral, and the code is the Maltese language, conveniently incomprehensible to all but the locals.

Second, in relation to the labour market and social stratification, the industrial working classes are traditionally loyal to the Labour Party, while farmers, entrepreneurs and civil servants gravitate mainly towards the Nationalist Party.

In spite of a congruence of policy by the two political parties over recent decades, this occupation-al/social class split remains surprisingly strong.

Third, macro-power structures are strongly aligned with political organisations, which become well organised networks at national, regional and local levels, down to specific streets and neighbourhoods.

With one of the two political organisations in full control of the state apparatus at any time, the likelihood of accosting and obtaining desirable 'goods' from the state is generally seen to change in accordance with the nature and clout of one's partisan affiliation.

Fourth, the cultural identity of the individual Maltese, and the perception of one's life world, remains substantially dominated by such partisan definitions, particularly since the self's social involvements very soon bump into the ubiquitous state.

The Catholic Church, via the parish priest, provides the only escape route here, and only at a local level.

Fifthly, the assessment of the past and present continue to be dominated by contradictory interpretations of the relevance of historical events. As insightfully reported by an expatriate living in Malta: the Maltese are very proud of their [past] history, but apparently not of their present.44

The analyses converge: only the members of the troika - the two main political parties and the Catholic Church - loom large as anchors of identity. The 'national interest' has been sabotaged: imploded into frenzied partisanship internally; replaced by integrationism externally.