The other day, my musings on which corner of Las Vegas inspired the lighting scheme of the Triton fountain were interrupted by a huge slogan sat right in front of it: ‘Maltin, b’saħħitna ’l quddiem’.
It’s such bad Maltese that I wouldn’t normally attempt to translate it. Given what I’m about to say, however, that would be unforgivable. So here goes: ‘Maltese, with a healthy future ahead’. Bad English, but then I wanted a loyal translation.
First things first. It’s reassuring to see that the milk van and buses and kiosks had to go to make a public space, only for that public space to be used for shameless propaganda. There was a time my jaw would drop when I saw photos of the main square in Pyongyang. Now, my jaw would make a poker world champion envious.
The same slogan was plastered right in front of Parliament, too, in the very place barriers were put up to keep out protesters last December. Political protest is strictly verboten there. Political propaganda isn’t.
The rhetoric of national unity suits those who are in power, to stay in power- Mark Anthony Falzon
In any case: remember cosmopolitanism? Not a year ago, the government’s heralds were drumming it into our heads that it was our vocation to be cosmopolitan. Forget Immanuel Kant and perpetual peace and cosmopolitan democracy: what they meant was that it made sense to import as many people as possible to fill as many flats as possible.
But the past is a foreign land and the one we inhabit now is by the Maltese, for the Maltese, in Maltese. The health of the cosmopolitans doesn’t seem to matter, nor do they appear to have a future ahead of them. Maybe they should just go back to their country.
In theory, the slogan has to do with the budget. The inherited ritual of the ministerial briefcase is no longer spectacle enough – now every budget, like every metre of asphalt, needs a slogan that glorifies the maker and reminds us of their benevolence.
Only in this case, the budget slogan taps into the second wave of hypernationalism unleashed by COVID-19. Conveniently so, too, because what better means to defend the questionable than to appeal to the unquestioned? We’re Maltin and this is our Malta and we will parrot our slogans in Maltese, as we have a nose and two ears.
Now nationalism is not widely regarded in medical circles as a particularly effective vaccine for coronavirus. In political circles, however, it is.
The rhetoric of national unity suits those who are in power, to stay in power. It is not surprising that the current crusader-in-chief of national unity in Malta is Brian Hansford, a rabid Labourite and party hack who every Monday dresses up as a journalist on national television.
Nor is it earth-shattering that Karl Stagno Navarra, a journalist who every evening dresses up as a rabid Labourite and party hack on One TV, was the first to pick up on Bernard Grech’s joke about his Greek-sounding surname and turn it into a matter of high treason against the nation (‘il-Grieg’, geddit?)
The Maltese flag, too, is not in the least about the nation, at least not in the imagined tense of that word. The bunting and flags and street parties and banners and whatnot were and are the preserve of Labourites, no more, no less. Suffice it to note that certain streets in certain places are more decorated than others. These days, I can tell how Labourite someone is just by measuring how Maltese COVID-19 makes them feel.
The virus affects different groups differently, then. For Nationalists, the symptoms are criticism of the government’s response. For Labourites, they are an effusion of għaqda fost il-Maltin (national unity). Thus the slogans in Valletta, which are nothing but the overture to Labour’s election campaign – paid for by our taxes.
All of which might be fun to watch, if it didn’t banish so many people. I wonder how the cosmopolitans must feel in their rented flats, facing joblessness and walking past slogans they don’t understand because they are not meant to. I just hope no one’s translating for them. It can’t be too reassuring to be told that the Maltin, but not you, are looking forward to a healthy future. The best you can hope for before you go back to your country is to cooperate with the Maltin in their mission to keep themselves, but not you, healthy.
It could be argued that nationalism is atavistic by nature and that it is natural that times of crisis will always bring out the deep forces of blood and belonging. I’m arguing the exact opposite. Not only is there nothing primordial or natural about nationalism, it is a political – and politically expedient – response to situations in the here and now.
I’ve often wondered whether the George Cross deserves a corner of the Maltese flag. Maybe it’s a symptom of the virus and all that, but of late I often find myself wondering a bit more comprehensively.