|
When I look back at the year 2005, one name resonates in mind.
That name is Julian Manduca.
It’s not difficult to explain why. Julian passed away in May. It was sudden, so sudden that we sort of expected Julian to turn up the next day.
A journalist, a free thinker, an amiable tree hugger and a liberal, he struck a chord with the disenchanted. He was a great enquirer, portrayed as being radical – far too radical for the stuffiness of a small nation. Few recall that he had for a very long time worked with an audit firm and spent most of his early life in a three-piece suit looking at the accounts of ‘serious’ companies. Those ‘serious’ companies did much to fuel his discomfort with the big boys, the ones who have entertained creative accounting as normal rule of procedure.
When he resigned to enter university as a mature student he was older but in mind and spirit, a younger man and fresher than most of his younger peers.
Julian was a Manduca, a well-read Sliema boy by all means, but a man of the world. His inquisitive nature took him to new frontiers abroad and locally. Yet, he loved his Malta and he dreamt of seeing a country that would be sane, culturally stimulating, democratic and fair.
As much as he felt for the Timorese and the Tibetans, he had very strong views about being libertarian, the impending waste problem on the Maltese islands, the Hilton hotel land use scandal, the greedy plans at Ta’ Cenc (yes, Julian you are being proved right about Pullicino) and the fixation for golf courses. In his time at MaltaToday, he worked tirelessly in those no-go areas, which most editors strive to keep away just in case they exasperate the advertisers.
The Price Club and the shocking court revelations on the plight facing countless creditors was a case in point. The eye-opener about the recklessness of some directors did not go down well, but it was the truth.
Julian would thread where others did not dare. The phone calls from angry businessman who could not face his blunt questions were proof of his resolve.
Years before, when he had applied for a job as a journalist with an ‘independent’ English-language newspaper, one of the directors of that newspaper, now a chairman of a financial institution, flipped when he heard Julian had applied. His application was shot down.
No surprise that Julian’s thesis at university had focused on the relationship between big business and the media.
Julian was loved but his reputation as an outspoken critic and standing up for what he believed in did not serve him well in his career. His endearing passion for land use, Ta’ Cenc and the chaos at MEPA, meant he was often in the bad books of various environment ministers.
He was practically the only journalist who knew every aspect of environmental law, the structure plan and waste strategy. He was most of the time correct and spot on.
His other strong conviction was on conflicts of interest, and rightly so, he would scold me for having accepted a consultancy and serve as editor of a newspaper – a decision I regret to this day.
He would be up in arms if he knew today some of his colleagues who had spoken so vociferously against Ta’ Cenc’s development were now serving as consultants on the environment impact assessment for the Ta’ Cenc tourist project. Julian would be nodding his head in repugnance.
But he was much more than a tree-hugger. Julian had witnessed the excesses and corruption of the Labour years and had seen how the present Nationalist administration had softly and sublimely turned upside down the standards and values they had preached about.
His feelings about conflicts of interest elucidated the reasons behind the choice of MEPA board members and DCC members, bringing him into direct conflict with the present Environment Minister – a person whose views of what conflicts of interest are, is Martian to say the least.
Julian had no qualms questioning the minister’s decisions and his sagacity in his choice of people. Nevertheless, he had no odium for the people he wrote about.
I for one could not write without expressing my antipathy for the person, in my true neo-Catholic and Latin upbringing. He would do it differently, in a very Protestant and Nordic way. He would speak to everyone, treat everyone as an equal and hear what they had to say.
But Julian’s soul was not up for sale. One evening, he walked into my office and informed me that he had been invited together with his wife for supper with the PM. He knew I had not been invited, but he assured me not to worry.
I should not have been.
He went along but there was no possibility for Julian to be overwhelmed by the encounter. He was above it all, his views did not change after the meeting.
When he passed away on the 17 May, the shock was too big to absorb. The outpouring of solidarity was widespread and even included the likes of American intellectual Noam Chomsky.
On a personal level, flashes of Julian as a friend flickered through my mind. The laughs, the drink, the choice of music, the protests, his days at Zghazagh ghall-Ambjent (later Friends of the Earth), the university film club, theatre, his love for life, the women, his vegetarianism and his commitment to and adoration of his wife, Irene.
Death brings you closer to the people you love and makes the unreasonableness of life more impressive.
Julian had just moved into a beautiful town house with his wife in the lower part of Valletta. It was fitting for a couple with very few pretensions.
He had dreams for finding the right balance between work and free time. His workload was often a problem and he whined once too often over not having enough time to work on his stories and time for himself, Irene and his work in their theatre company
He was a stickler for detail and would not take lightly to people who would overly react to news stories. In one of his last emails a day before he passed away he jotted down an editorial note for a letter than was sent in by an irate Mayor:
“Finally, I referred to McCarthyism, a reference to Senator Joe McCarthy, if Dr Micallef does not know what I am talking about, I suggest he takes a look at witch hunts and red herrings in modern society.”
It was perhaps a fitting description of his frame of mind. His forward-looking liberal outlook and his way of waving a middle finger to the establishment.
Julian’s smile hangs in our meeting room, a portrait taken by Pippa Zammit Cutajar at his home in Valletta some weeks before he died. His telling beam speaks of hope. In an age where money, consumerism and competition rank high in people’s priorities, remembering Julian serves as an antidote. And more importantly, when the going gets tough, the boys in the newsroom turn round to his portrait and respectfully bark at him: “X’tahseb Julian?”
(What do you think Julian?)
There is no reply.
Then surreptitiously we laugh, even if not too boisterously. Thankfully we know what he thinks – he was too unswerving, too idealistic, too straight to change his way of thinking.
This is one friend I will always cherish and miss.
sbalzan@mediatoday.com.mt
Julian Manduca passed away aged 46 on 17 May, 2005.
The Julian Manduca Award Scheme was launched last May. For further inquiries on donations for the Award, please contact Saviour Balzan at MediaToday.
|
