“The Maltese people have nothing to do with this ugly episode. We are better than this.” Two prime ministers, Joseph Muscat and Robert Abela, have stated that sentiment in English, in almost as many words, to the international media. But with what difference of meaning.
Muscat said those words in the immediate aftermath of the assassination of Daphne Caruana Galizia.
He meant the assassination had nothing to do with the Maltese state. There was no system failure.
Abela said those words in the immediate aftermath of the publication of the Caruana Galizia inquiry report. He meant that the long list of system failures, condemned by the report, had nothing to do with the people that the state was supposed to serve and protect.
The state’s failures, Abela emphasises, are not a reflection of the body politic. They are a cancer that he is committed to remove.
Muscat stands so utterly discredited by the report that Abela has had to claim that the state today is unrecognisable from the state he inherited from Muscat. Never mind what you think of the claim. The fact that Abela feels the need to make it is what’s significant.
Abela says the report is part of the healing process and that so too his own reaction (like that of the rest of us). Here, however, things get complicated for him.
Consider the reaction of Glenn Bedingfield. In the report, his notorious blog is called the “worst expression” of a campaign against Caruana Galizia that “formed part of a process of dehumanisation, inspired by hate” (pp. 168-69).
The inquiry describes some of Caruana Galizia’s own writings as merciless attacks on anyone linked to Labour and, in one specific case, calls her out for a malicious and cruel report (pp. 246-47). Even so, the board rejects Bedingfield’s defence that what he offered was an “equal and opposite reaction”.
There is nothing equal, says the board, in focusing the resources of a political party plus the quasi-infinite resources of the state against a lone journalist.
What the board identifies goes beyond a political sin. It was injustice, the trampling of Caruana Galizia’s rights. Not only were the participating state officials obliged to stop, post-2013, once they assumed public roles, they were also obliged to restrain any campaign of dehumanisation because it was their duty to protect freedom of expression and enable Caruana Galizia to perform her function as a journalist.
Recognising we’re ill is part of the healing process. But so is swallowing bitter medicine- Ranier Fsadni
Bedingfield is unrepentant. Indeed, we can conclude he’d do it again. So how can he also claim that he wants to help the prime minister implement the conclusions of the inquiry, especially those for the protection of journalists?
This isn’t just a matter of personal contradiction. It affects Abela’s pledge to bring about healing.
Since Bedingfield refuses to accept the conclusions, then Labour needs to demonstrate that the party does recognise the wrong done. The usual way of doing this is to remove an official from a public function he carries on behalf of the party. Bedingfield, for symbolic purposes, should (at the very least) be replaced as whip.
If this isn’t done, then Abela risks inviting the perverse consequences of the pardon that was granted to Ignatius Farrugia, found guilty by a court for having aggressed Caruana Galizia in Rabat shortly after the 2013 election.
The board notes (pp. 249-50) that most people would not have known of the “legal complications” that led to the pardon. They would have only heard that Farrugia was freed of all charges, suggesting that his behaviour had not been culpable. This message in itself raised the level of risk posed to Caruana Galizia, suggesting she was ‘fair game’ for dehumanisation.
What Bedingfield carried out was simply an extreme case of what the board shows was both Labour and state policy. Many will have drawn the conclusion it was therefore legitimate.
If Abela really wants to be part of a mature discussion and healing process, he will have to take action, and not just spout words, to demonstrate that he acknowledges that the policy of denigration was wrong.
Yes, it’s politically tricky for Abela. Take the case of Edward Zammit Lewis, the justice minister, currently facing demands to resign for his unbecoming proximity to Yorgen Fenech even after the latter was revealed to be the owner of the secret company 17 Black.
As backbencher, Abela teamed up with Zammit Lewis as part of the press conference that mocked Simon Busuttil for persisting in demanding an inquiry into 17 Black. Zammit Lewis defends his participation because it was Labour policy.
But the fact that it was policy is no individual defence. It simply widens the circle of guilt. That press conference was part of a pattern identified by the Caruana Galizia inquiry: isolate and denigrate a persistently dissenting, dangerous individual. How can that policy be used as defence? Moreover, in the context of a discussion of how our public life is to recover from such behaviour.
Abela is helped by the fact that what really damns Zammit Lewis is something he didn’t do. Zammit Lewis communicated with Fenech to let him know he defended him. He later told Fenech he was proud to know him.
At that stage, everyone knew what ownership of 17 Black implied. But our current minister of justice didn’t mind.
That is damning information. It prevents Zammit Lewis from carrying out his core function of persuading everyone – the domestic audience for healing purposes, the international one for de-greylisting – that we’ve got the rule of law back on track.
We were greylisted for having too cosy a relationship with money launderers. And we have a justice minister who’s a living unrepentant example of that.
Recognising we’re ill is part of the healing process. But so is swallowing bitter medicine.