Daphne Caruana Galizia murder malta
Image credit: Reuters

I can hardly believe that it’s already been a full year since Daphne Caruana Galizia was assassinated just minutes away from her home in Malta. That’s 365 days of no justice and approximately 525,600 more minutes (and counting) of the government and its various institutions failing miserably. I wanted to add the number of times Daphne’s memorial had been cleared away and re-built, but quite frankly I’ve lost count.

Some days are harder than others

Every time I tap to open Facebook on my phone, I’m met with another smack in the face courtesy of news from back home. These days I barely recognise it as ‘home’, but that’s another story for another blog.

So like any other social media-saturated millennial, I scroll through Facebook, and inevitably come across some more bad news. Another scandal. Another lie. Another piece of Malta’s soul sold to the highest bidder.

Sadness or white-hot anger comes in waves, and sometimes the two come together and I feel overwhelmed. With frustration. Indignation. Disgust. Helplessness. Rage. Disbelief.

On those days, I sometimes need to take a moment and look away from it all before it builds into actual anxiety. I don’t like doing that, particularly because it’s in our own interest to look at this sad state of affairs squarely in the eyes. To be informed. To ask questions. To question authority, more so when they shy away and squirm and show us how much they hate it.

No. Collectively looking away is what got us here in the first place. But I, like many others, often find myself exhausted, buckling under the weight and relentlessness of it all.

But for the most part, I look

I look at every new, shoddy piece of propaganda the Prime Minister’s crew churn out and peddle to their supporters. I look at the blinkered masses sitting, open-mouthed and clamouring like baby birds, waiting to gobble up the next thinly-veiled lie dumped onto them by the powers that be. I sometimes wonder if politicians ever chuckle as they type what they know full well is bullshit of the highest order. Perhaps they’ve been lying and lied to for so long they scarcely know the difference any more. As a quick example, check out the post by ‘Justice Minister’ Owen Bonnici. Yeah, the one who cleared away the memorial and thereby violated our freedom of speech. 2+2=5:

I look at news of another shady link between another big shot bully and another unsavoury character and think about how, in a normal country, you’d resign at the faintest hint of scandal. You’d have some sense of shame. Dawn ma jistħux,  u ma jafux jistħu. All our politicians seem to have is pure arrogance. And lots of money. Money paid out of our pockets. Gentle reminder there.

I make myself look at comments and statuses on social media and I see some hope, some resistance, in the face of hate speech so vile you’d think those commenting were facing their worst enemy, rather than a total stranger whose only crime is trying to hold our government accountable, demanding justice and transparency.

Orwellian Malta

I look at the news that the protest memorial opposite the law courts has once again been cleared away, and wonder if it was on Owen Bonnici’s orders again or not. What are they so afraid of? Do they really think we’ll give up and forget that easily? They did it again last night. I struggle to call Mr Owen Bonnici ‘Justice Minister’ while keeping a straight face. Surely to be a minister of something like justice, one should fight for justice. I’m reminded now of George Orwell’s 1984 and the Ministry of Truth:

The Ministry of Truth is the ministry of propaganda. As with the other ministries in the novel, the name Ministry of Truth is a misnomer because in reality it serves the opposite: it is responsible for any necessary falsification of historical events. – Wikipedia

I look at all of this, and the sale of Maltese (also EU) passports, and the sale of what precious little untouched land we have left to people with more money than morals. I look at the pollution, the lies, the death, the crime, the venom, the impunity, the smoke and mirrors, the racism as a rallying cry, the overdevelopment and €10+ million apartments for the elite when locals can’t even afford to rent a shitty room in a shitty part of town anymore.

Finally, I look at the news that our most illustrious PM let his carefully-curated mask slip and issued an actual threat to Simon Busuttil. He told him he wouldn’t be able to set foot in Malta again – language unbecoming of a PM and more suited to something like a wannabe mafioso in a low-budget gangster movie. This is significant. When the PM appears to bully and threaten someone, it gives the trolls in the comments section and niche Facebook groups a sense of legitimacy when they do it, something like: “if our glorious leader can do this, then so can I. Hell, I’m probably doing him a favour.”

I see Glenn Bedingfield (remind me again what a sexist, ill-mannered bully of a man is doing in parliament?) saying ‘jitlifni’ (translation: he makes me lose my temper”) to justify swearing, in parliament, at Simon Busuttil. To the public, this says: you can attack people and it’s okay because they’re asking for it. It is not okay. This is dangerous.

The situation has never been so desperate

Certainly in not my twenty-something years of life, anyway. Those who lived through the Mintoff years see what’s happening with an intensified sense of dread because they recognise the signs. They know the violence, the fear that comes with an out-of-control government that operates more like a family business or brutish band club. There’s at least one key difference between then and now – social media. The whole world is watching, and we’re here to tweet, write, resist, protest, question, and fight. And I’ll bet my entire comic book collection that the powers that be can’t fucking stand it. They probably yearn for the good old days when they could carry out their shady business in peace. Oh well.

Identity crisis

What kind of labour government is this? As a supposedly centre-left party, labour is meant to represent and champion the rights of the people – specifically, the working class. The average Joe. What we have instead is a self-serving Labour government that caters to the millionaire, the property tycoon, the questionable banker, etc. Fuck the actual people you’re meant to serve, right?

I don’t know if we as a nation even know what our respective parties are meant to stand for any more; truthfully I don’t think they know themselves. But then that’s what happens when we treat politics like football matches and so-called leaders like gods for so many years. Muddied waters and blurred lines and blind tribalism. We are all losers here.

I remind you once again that politicians are doing us no favours by being in power. They are your elected officials, there to serve you, the citizen. They are literally paid out of your pocket. Hero worship and a refusal to hold them accountable over the years has brought us here. They slap us in the face, rifle through our pockets, laugh, and we say ‘thank you’ by giving them the vote or letting them off without so much as a double-take. Or by voting them in again. Hold your political leaders and their cronies accountable.

There is no ‘us’ and ‘them’. They want us to fight amongst ourselves because it takes the heat off of them. Forget party politics and talk of sore losers. Make no mistake – we’re all getting screwed over here. It doesn’t matter which colour you swore allegiance to in the past.

Resist.


Read more about Daphne’s murder and corruption in Malta here:

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