Satire as a public political weapon became widespread in Malta when censorship by the powerful started appearing less threatening. In carnival times, political dissidents stepped up their resistance to perceived tyranny or disliked adversaries by parading outspoken floats.
"On the patriotic side, the constant butts of bitter humour were Gerald Strickland and, to a slightly lesser degree, the corpulent Augustus Bartolo"
The essence of satire is the ability not to take others or oneself too seriously. You will find no trace in these political floats of any yearning to laugh at oneself. My collections house a considerable number of photos of pre-war political carnival karrijiet, the earliest dating to 1900.
Horses still draw one of the tableaux. The grim ideological divide between the anti-colonial Nationalists and the pro-imperial Constitutionals provided the right backdrop to the yearly carnival tussle. On the patriotic side, the constant butts of bitter humour were Gerald Strickland and, to a slightly lesser degree, the corpulent Augustus Bartolo.
The floats mostly targeted current political scandals or misdemeanours, essentially transient events, in a way that the passage of time has obscured many of the messages and may have softened the sharpness of their bite.
It is significant, though unexplainable, that of the pre-war images in my albums, only two show pro-Strickland floats.
All the others abuse the pro-imperial party.
When London, in 1933, revoked the 12-year-old self-government constitution and reverted Malta to direct colonial rule, political carnival satire disappeared overnight, as if by evil magic. This was assumed to be another result of hostile censorship by the imperial police.
In 2012, Mario de Marco, then minister for culture, revealed that no legal enactment could be traced that forbade political satire in carnival.
The 80 years’ hiatus in freedom of expression was not due to pernicious autocratic censorship but to something more demeaning still: craven self-censorship.