Back in the Middle Ages, people were very curious and went to great lengths discussing the why and how of things. One of the questions they asked was: “Why do we need a king?”, and to answer this they created an ‘allegory’, a quasi-legendary story that alluded to the order of things as perceived by them.
According to this allegory, at its original state, humanity was egalitarian and there was no need for rulers. Then, someone took a piece of land for himself and the concept of private property came to be, leading to violence, crime and war.
Feeling weak and undefended, a community turned to the biggest and strongest among it and told him: “We task you with the duty to protect us and in turn we bind ourselves to you, to follow your leadership and grant you privileges.”
And so, the biggest and strongest was made king and was granted privileges for the leadership and protection he gave to the community.
In the Middle Ages, the king was considered to be “the good father of the family”, the bonus pater familiae, a concept borrowed from the Romans, who saw the emperor as a father figure whose role was to protect the citizens within the empire, grant them justice and deliver peace. All the kings from the Middle Ages onwards added the words “father of their people” to their rather long list of titles.
The French Revolution decapitated the king and gave birth to the modern State. From then onwards, it was the duty of the state to behave as the bonus pater familiae and provide the newly founded nations with protection, justice and peace.
The allegory from the Middle Ages carries an important implication: between king and community, there was a bond of trust. The community trusted the king with leadership and in turn bestowed him with privileges not because he was the biggest and strongest but because he promised to use those qualities to the advantage of the community.
By the time of the French Revolution, the people became disenchanted with kings. It wasn’t Louis XVI that failed them in particular but the institution of kingship.
The people felt the bond of trust had been broken; that kings – always thirsty for new privileges – were no longer bothered with protecting their subjects, or provide them with justice and peace.
During the 19th century, even where the monarchy survived, the role of kings was diminished and trust was placed in the State. With its complex structures, institutions and regulations, the State allows for a wider distribution of power.
At the helm of the State is government, elected and directly accountable to the public. Yet, the principle didn’t change: the State draws its legitimacy from the bond of trust between itself and the citizens. The State must provide for the protection, justice and peace of its citizenry, and be publicly perceived to be doing so.
What’s the use of a father that cannot protect his family?- Aleks Farrugia
Public perception is fundamental for this bond of trust to remain intact: if the citizens do not feel that the State is fulfilling its end of the deal, then the trust is as good as gone.
If this bond of trust is broken, then chaos will take its place. The citizens, feeling short-changed by the State, will in turn delegitimise it. State authority will not be recognised and citizens will look towards alternative sources of power that promise to deliver on their goods.
One can see examples of this in communities forgotten by the State in South America where the citizenry puts its faith in drug cartels or organised crime that, despite their brutality and criminal intentions, alleviate these communities from abject poverty and neglect.
Alternatively, citizens might take the law in their hands in order to protect their family, or to obtain justice, whenever the State fails them.
In a televised inquiry broadcast very recently, shop owners in southern Italy admitted without much reluctance that they arm themselves against criminals since they feel that the State doesn’t offer them protection. If the citizens feel that the State doesn’t give them justice, then the only alternative is to take it upon themselves.
What the government failed to understand in the Jean Paul Sofia case, and the family’s call for a public inquiry, is that the first obligation of the State is to act as a bonus pater familiae.
Irrespective of technicalities weighing between the efficacy of public and judicial enquiries, the usual opportunistic political ping-pong between parties, and the ineptitude of the court to close an inquiry in a timely way, the government – at the helm of the State – had the obligation not only to uphold but also to be seen upholding the bond of trust that it will, on all occasions, guarantee the protection of its citizens and deliver them justice and peace.
With its insistence to refrain from calling a public inquiry about the death of a young worker on a construction site, at a time when construction and the whole development industry is largely eyed with suspicion and antipathy by the public at large, the government put itself in a position where its commitment towards the protection of the public, securing justice and peace, has been put into question. The bond of trust is being challenged.
In other words, what’s the use (or the value) of a father that cannot protect his family, especially those who are the weakest and most vulnerable?
What’s at stake is much more than what appears at first glance. The effects go beyond what can be measured by electoral gains and losses.
Any corrective measures – and corrective measures are well due for the sake of governability – should be aimed to rebuild the bond of trust that the State still has the capability of protecting its citizens and provide them with justice and peace.