Malta has had black moods of impending doom before. But this time it’s different.
The difference is not that it was imaginary before but that this time it’s real. The past does show us episodes where we danced on the precipice, even though we pulled through. And our fate isn’t sealed. We’re still in time to pull away from the precipice, once more.
The difference has two dimensions. One concerns the personnel. In the past, apocalypse was attributed to the Nemesis, the other party of government. But your own party of preference, whatever your grievances with it (you always had some), could save you from the worst.
Most post-Independence general elections have been fought with a Big Issue in the balance: democracy, EU membership, justice. Whatever your views, you had an alternative that gave you hope.
If you lost, you had five years of feeling in purgatory, hell or (for a special category of senior government officials) limbo. Five years later, though, you felt back in the game: you could hope in an alternative and it was electorally competitive.
Remember how you felt four years ago today, whoever you voted for. The Big Issue (which had a no-show in 2013) was back. And whichever mass meeting you attended, the atmosphere was electric, both sides convinced they could win.
The polls themselves foresaw (accurately as it turned out) a Labour landslide. But that’s not how it felt – and that’s the entire point here. If you were Labour, you were glowing with the conviction that the best had yet to come. If you were Nationalist, or at least anti-Joseph Muscat, you thought there was hope (not quite “believed”) that the 2013 landslide could be reversed.
Everyone, no matter who they voted for, believed progress and justice was within reach.
Compare with the situation today. Labour is on course for another landslide victory within a year. That’s reflected in the depression felt by the PN’s core supporters. Yet, there’s also a lack of elation in many segments of Labour’s support: people who will still vote for it – indeed, who may actually be activists – but who feel disenchanted or worse.
Twenty years ago, we went through a period of general disenchantment. Many Labour supporters felt they couldn’t win with Alfred Sant. The PN leader, Eddie Fenech Adami, had been leader for a quarter of a century. The then archbishop, Joseph Mercieca, had been in office for even longer. In that instance, though, it was believed that the problems could be solved with a good change of leaders. Today, the two major parties look like they’re only a nudge away from implosion.
The PN is full of people who detest each other so much they’ve lost almost all sense of cohesion. The Labour leadership clearly judges it cannot distance itself from its manifestly corrupt politicians and associates without risking an electoral backlash.
Neither party has what it takes to fill you with hope for a change for the better, unless there’s a radical change in both parties.
What else would have motivated Sant and George Vella – respectively Labour leader and deputy leader 20 years ago – to issue loud public criticisms about the dangers of overdevelopment? Only a sense that they think public opinion needs to be mobilised because, otherwise, their own party won’t change direction.
The second difference concerns time. The old sense of doom was tied to a sense that it wouldn’t be final. The pendulum could swing towards you again. History went through cycles and your turn would come.
This time there’s also an increasing sense of doom linked to collapse, not recurrence- Ranier Fsadni
There’s still some of that. But this time there’s also an increasing sense of doom linked to collapse, not recurrence.
Collapse – irreversible loss – is associated mainly with the environment and the ruin of Gozo is the main symbol.
Environmental degradation has long been coming. But, in previous years, there was always room for optimism that enough of the environment could be saved. Today, there is only fatalism and resentment.
We’ve seen other collapses, though: houses and banks and a close shave with Moneyval. They feed into the metaphor.
In 2002, the European Union featured differently in the national debate. Then, the EU fancied the 21st century would belong to it. An opening to the southern Mediterranean (a free trade area) was targeted for 2010. Turkey’s EU membership was a real prospect. The eastern frontier was peaceful, while the southern frontier – the sea – was conceived primarily as an economic and ecological zone.
Within all this, Malta could dream of playing a significant role in an expansive Mediterranean future.
All that’s gone for the foreseeable future. Europe’s borders are now all bloody or belligerent. The free trade area isn’t even mentioned. The sea is a graveyard. Turkey’s membership prospects are close to zero. The EU was designed to cage the nationalist tiger but, within Europe itself, the cage is unlocked.
Back in 2002, Malta could envision how its economy could grow within Europe. In 2021, some of its critical industries are based on principles that go against the trend of European governance.
This is the anatomy of our current sense of apocalypse:
Our politics has ceased to be competitive, which has made both our major parties behave recklessly, toying with implosion.
Our economic policy has lost touch with the business cycle, having been based on the illusory promise of eternal growth, without a thought for what happens when things slump or international institutions catch up with us.
Above all, the disappearing habitable environment serves to remind us of time running out. And it will if we continue to think we must choose between justice and the economy.
An economy without justice will collapse. Justice in a struggling economy will give way to the law of the strongman.
