Since the concept of ‘nation’ is very loaded (about which political theorists tend to get into very long-winded academic arguments), for simplicity’s sake let me begin this article by defining it as a territory, governed by a sovereign state, to which pertains a particular narrative that defines its identity, culture and political existence.

Nations are rooted in history, meaning that time and place determine pretty much their being. As historical entities, very much like the human beings that inhabit them, they have their own stages of development.

For the second year running, ‘The State of the Nation’ was debated in a conference held under the patronage of the President of the Republic. I am not sure how much such debates spill over to the public sphere prompting a truly nationwide discussion.

Seems to me that, for a nation where everyone seems to hold a sure opinion about everything, we become conspicuously silent when it comes to crude and honest self-analysis. In itself, that’s quite telling about the state of our nation. One could say that it is symptomatic of a nation that is still in its adolescence. 

Adolescence is the time of transition from childhood to adulthood. It is a time of uncertainty when, in search for their identity, young people encounter deep existential crises. Parents know full well how erratic they can become.

At one point they are engaged in a most mature conversation and, then, all of a sudden, flip into the most childish of tantrums. They would like to think of themselves as adults but then have difficulty expressing their emotions; they think they have the key to understand the world and then stumble at their first encounter with real life.

Our nation isn’t any different. It was born in 1964 and hasn’t yet reached adulthood. Most of its social and political institutions are still modelled on those inherited from colonialism. They haven’t yet developed to reflect the confidence, self-sufficiency and authority expected of mature institutions. Instead, they are still largely subservient to patronage, deferential to vested interests, dominated by personalities, burdened by bureaucracy and fundamentally hierarchic.

Perceptions, attitudes and values ­– despite the influences of globalisation – are still filtered and remodelled to fit a state of being which is both provincial and largely self-limiting.

I don’t believe that ‘the state of the nation’ will be changing anytime soon- Aleks Farrugia

Yet, like all adolescents, this nation often likes to play adult. We like to position ourselves as part of that Europe which is the ‘old continent’ (that of past colonisers, most of which at some stage or another were our masters), the ‘new Europe’ of the East being below our status.

We fuss about long traditions, great achievements, incredible feats and unique characteristics. We’ve wrought a narrative that mistakes the longevity and resilience of the Maltese people with the not-yet completely formed Maltese nation, not realising in the process that it is because of that history that this nation is still in its adolescent stage of development.

It is this state of being that we keep refusing to engage with, even when the situation begs to be addressed, when the edifice we have constructed atop of the old ruins starts to collapse. It is turning away from reality when the impression is given that ‘the rot’ started at a particular moment in time when the apparatus of the state was hijacked by some kind of criminal conspiracy.

As it is equally turning away from reality when fostering the illusion that all is well with the institutions and they deserve a clean bill of health. It is turning away from reality denying that there is collusion between politics and business that results in bad governance.

But it is equally turning away from reality if one pretends that this hasn’t been the state of affairs since a long time, predating this nation’s very independence. It is equally turning away from reality if one forgoes to mention that, as much as the edifice seems ready to crumble, many fellow countrymen wouldn’t want it any other way.

The resistance to change (and to grow) comes from different directions for a variety of reasons. Even if the political class was to make a serious effort to modernise the institutions by enacting effective and well-intentioned laws, that doesn’t mean that within the institutions themselves there won’t be resistance from various vested interests at different levels that would thwart those efforts for a multitude of reasons (some of which - at face value - might even seem to be well-meaning, appealing to tradition or professional values).

Add to that external factors of resistance, including popular mentalities and attitudes, and those laws, commendable as they might be, will remain dead as the stones of the chamber that was supposed to give them life. Take the long list of failed court reforms under different administrations as an example (but that’s for another article).

I don’t believe that ‘the state of the nation’ will be changing anytime soon. If anything, the impression I get is that the different layers of interests, hidden and overt, have calcified the very fabric of this nation. It has become almost impossible to trust that any voice making an argument for change isn’t pushing the agenda of some interest or other, so that, in the words of di Lampedusa, “everything must change in order that nothing changes”.

During this year’s conference, we heard it again that ‘we must sit round a table to start discussing change’. I’m afraid that ‘we’ have been round the table discussing since forever – and? Where did all the discussions lead, and – more importantly – who was sitting round the table?

Perhaps discussing, going on in roundabouts without ever getting to the core of the issues that matter, should be declared our national sport. And, all the while, we risk this nation living in permanent adolescence without ever reaching adulthood.

Aleks Farrugia is a writer and historian.