Revisiting Dom

Everyone should have noticed that Maltese hunters have been waved a friendly green card to bang away at migratory birds right up to the third week of May. The rest of the European Union has no spring hunting but Malta is an exception.
Well, I was in a rather headbanging mode on Wednesday morning, when one of my lawyers confirmed to me, albeit far too late, that the same judge who presided in the Court of Appeal in the case of Dom Mintoff versus Saviour Balzan, had been Dom’s lawyer in the Delimara compensation case, just before being appointed Judge.
I never, at any time, believe that Mr Justice Dr Philip Sciberras was or should have a clouded judgement simply because he was a Labour MP under the 1976 and 1981 Dom Mintoff governments.
But having acted as Dom’s lawyer just before being appointed judge is another thing altogether, and if this observation is tantamount to contempt of court, then I’ll be damned.
The seventies and eighties happen to work out as the time Dom turned out to be a complete alien to anything remotely affable, fair, democratic, tolerant or peaceful. His idea of socialism is what turned you into a Nationalist or something to that effect.
This was the era of il-Fusellu, il-Qahbu, il-Qattus, l-Indjan, it-Toto and the beloved il-Pupa, who just in case anyone has forgotten, discovered God and Eddie Fenech Adami some months before he fell to his death in a burglary attempt that had gone terribly wrong.
Back to the courts, I would have expected Mr Justice Sciberras to at least reconsider his position in this Appeals case, considering that he served as a lawyer to il-Perit, moreover because Dom’s Delimara case was initiated by his quenching thirst for sucking up more money for his poor old self.
The worst description you can have for Dom is poor. And by poor, I mean poor in all senses. He is obsessed with money, or not spending it, a fact well known to the sycophants that get a kick by being in his company.
In the 1976 and 1981 legislatures, saying it as it is was one sure way of getting your front teeth removed gratis without the need of painkillers. But in 1994, Dom was up to other things.
There was no National Bank and no BICAL.
There was case 470/94 with then lawyer Dr Sciberras acting on his behalf in the Delimara compensation case against the Prime Minister of the day. This time he was asking for more money to be compensated for losing out on his summer residence at Delimara. While normal folk tussle and duel tirelessly with government to be compensated, Dom wants more and more and more.
There are few socialists who openly condemn the excesses of the seventies and eighties. But then there are few socialists around in the first place. I mean, can anyone define a socialist for me?
Writing about the history of Mintoff’s policies is now not only impossible but turning out to be defamatory.
Indeed there is not one book, not one serious study about the exploits of Premier Dom in the seventies and eighties. It would make riveting reading and I would love to be its author.
Surely the stories that surfaced in 2003 over BICAL in MaltaToday and the Circle magazine, which was incidentally distributed with The Sunday Times and not MaltaToday, was an attempt to bring to the fore the events surrounding an episode that has left more questions than answers.
Many readers will recall that every time our reporters contacted Dom Mintoff he would go into his typical self-pitying ‘Perit lament’ saying that he was not well, that one should not talk on the phone and that he will not answer questions.
And he would always pass a remark about the journalist not knowing his job. Indeed, in another country, someone like Dom would be asked once, twice and then his refusal to comment would be taken as a comment.
But this is Malta, where the Press Club is captivated by its yearly prize ceremony, and where this so-called “institute” of journalists is structured in such a way that flower arrangements come somehow before fighting for a free press, and where our home affairs minister’s concern about the freedom of the press is only surpassed by his excitement for pin-striped suits.
In his lifetime, the only time Dom showed any enthusiasm for a journalist was in the days of L-iSpjun’s creator and former NET TV journalist Pierre Portelli. This is the time Dom simply enjoyed rubbishing Alfred Sant on NET TV. Conveniently, the Nationalists became friends and the friends became enemies.
Thankfully for all of us, many Labourites have not forgiven Dom for his escapade with the enemy. I hope they will not change their minds in the future.
The truth is that il-Perit only started worrying about the BICAL story when I appeared on Toni Abela’s talk show on Super One and reminded televiewers about the questions Dom had consistently refused to answer.
Typical for il-Perit, he rediscovered his energy, put all his ailments aside and applied his newly found energy into a libel action, captained by Karmenu Mifsud Bonnici, the same man he had chosen as controller of the BICAL bank, and the same man he would handpick to run the country as prime minister.
When we finally met in court, he went on an endless tirade in the court of law about my “imagination” and my vocation as a novelist. He would not stop ranting. At one point he even threatened to kill me. And like many others in the political world, he would ask in open court: “Imma minn hemm warajk, ta’ min hi l-MaltaToday?” (But who is behind you, of whom is MaltaToday?)
I told him: “Ta’ hadd, Perit, tieghi u ta’ Dr de Giorgio…” (Nobody’s, it’s mine and Dr de Giorgio’s…), but like so many others who wish to think otherwise he would not believe so.
When the good magistrate insisted we come to some form of compromise, Dom asked me for Lm2,000 cash for the research he had had to carry out for his case and a front page apology in tabloidish fonts. I grinned and told him that was not on.
On Wednesday, Mr Justice Philip Sciberras raised the original fine from Lm250 to Lm2,000.
Lm2,000 is a pleasant coincidence. Dom Mintoff is not a poor man, but he chooses to live like one.
At his home he offers coffee in misty glasses from an ageing boiling kettle. His home, which I have visited on occasions, is similar to a badly lit dungeon combined with the tastes of depressed artists and a confused museum for kitsch. Dom’s idea of a dialogue is talking uninterrupted for two hours.
He is not a demagogue because labelling him as such could be defamatory in the eyes of the Maltese law, but he is definitely not the nicest piece of furniture in Maltese politics. In fact, if I had to make an association with a furniture piece he is like that dreaded Grandfather clock, ticking away, blocking the staircase and tolling at the wrong hour of the night.
He is the seed to that political mediocrity we call Mintoffianism, and it continues to live until today within the structures of the government and the Maltese psyche.
Like Dr Philip Sciberras, I grew up as a boy loving Dom and his politics, as I would fumble through l-orrizont, folded neatly next to the rosary beads and oranges on the hissing and ancient Indesit fridge at my grandmother’s home in Brared Street. As I developed grey cells I came to terms with the frustrations of society and aspirations of my friends and family, and I came to appreciate the ugliness of the man and his policies.
I was no longer enamoured by Nasserian politics but was slowly lining up with hundreds dying for a fresh, new and liberal type of politics. I am no Nationalist, but I am also no Labourite. I am just a Maltese who is contemplating to say it as is.
The BICAL bank is one of the institutions decimated in the Mintoffian era. The day before Mintoff chose to close down BICAL, his finance minister Guze Abela withdrew all his money from his savings account. A coincidence of course!
The Mintoffian government will be remembered not for its social services or the Republic, but for the violence, nationalisation spree, thuggery, corruption, destruction of the environment and unbridled nepotism.
And worst of all, helping to create two party structures that seemingly live to combat each other.
When the Nationalists took over in 1987 they did away with the palpably nasty Mintoffian legacies, but they kept many useful Mintoffian tools in their closet, using them when it suited them: the patronage, the bloated civil service, the duopoly, the political appointments and the Constitution.
Mintoff will get his Lm2,000. This is the second confirmation of a libel suit by Mr Justice Philip Sciberras, the first one having been Lm4,000 to former Labour parliamentary secretary Profs. Louis Buhagiar, and the second in the case of Dom.
This will not be the last libel case. And it will not stop me and this newspaper from publishing. I have said this before: this newspaper is here to stay. We do not survive as a publishing house because of government tenders, or government contracts or PBS handouts. It survives because it refuses to pay lip service. This newspaper has grown, beyond anyone’s expectations. It is welcomed by readers of all hues because it has something to say and it is the closest thing to an aspirin in a society that is constantly suffering from a headache by hearing too many untruths.
We may be slightly bruised but I am still standing. The family silver is rather impressive, I have been assured.

I did start this column writing about hunters, the one group Mintoff disliked. Mintoff liked or disliked things if they sort of bothered him or tickled his fancy. He hated hunters because they disturbed his horse riding as he galloped away at the Marsa sports ground, the recreational grounds built by gentlemen for gentlemen – indeed a strange setting for a man like Dom.
George Pullicino has decreed that hunting in spring will continue. He had a chance of stopping it with the bird flu scare. He has not taken that chance.
He dearly wishes to be compared and loved like some sort of Stanley Zammit of yesteryear, the PN’s most decent junior minister by far, but he is a far throw from Stanley. From now until the election, the Nationalists will be what they always are before elections: bloody accommodating. Even the Nationalists can be little Mintoffians.
It is two years since we became European and I wonder where the signs of this Europeanism are to be found. Perhaps in between coffee breaks and unending lunches paid by our taxes, the head of the European Commission’s delegation to Malta could come up with some examples.
But the eternal dream of doing away with spring hunting and trapping has been scuttled by Pullicino. Even if the European Commission decides to rap the Maltese government, Pullicino will do nothing until 2008… 2008 being election year. It is already very clear that many of the reforms and projects have been shelved, not to bring any undue dejection upon the electorate.

I have the impression that Lawrence Gonzi is moulded in siege mentality mode. He is also under the false impression that everything is better than it ever was. The real message that needs to seep through to Gonzi is that he needs to send a message to the public.
He rants to his immediate entourage that he will win the next election because people will not vote for Sant. They nod like yes men and agree with him. But they should be telling him the bloody opposite.
Richard Cachia Caruana would do that, but he is not around anymore.
Gonzi will lose if he does nothing. Just look at the all the big hoteliers. They are already whispering into Labour’s ears that they will win, and slowly but steadily, they are switching allegiance.
Reshuffle your cabinet Lawrence, now. Bring in the useful and capable brains and reorganise the Stamperija with new blood. And send your David Agiuses and Clyde Pulis on a one-way ticket Caribbean cruise. Turn around your media, starting with In-Nazzjon, which reads like a badly-written parish church newsletter, and then proceed with NET TV and make it more inclusive and sexy. And widen your circle of courtiers and stop basing your strategy on what Joe Saliba and George Pullicino only preach to you.
Do not fall for those tending to the Nationalists diehards and who are turning MEPA into a planning permit factory. And do not go into election mode from today. And do not put reforms on the back burner. Start thinking about the middle class.
And more importantly decide. Decide about low cost airlines, decide about PBS. Decide about Qui-Si-Sana. Decide about golf courses. Decide about electoral reform. Decide about swallowing some of your pride. Come up with a project which underlines vision, not simply more speculation and easy money for one or two speculators and contractors.
Issa naraw!

Last year a 19-year-old was elected Mayor of Dingli. It says more about the electorate than the elected.
I cannot understand the thinking behind choosing a mayor according to the number of votes attained. Lija and Msida have two young mayors in their mid-twenties or perhaps even younger.
In most local councils abroad, the wise old men and women of the town are traditionally at the helm of a council. It makes sense: older people tend to be more mature, reasonable and encompassing.
The choice of mayors by who garners most votes is yet another PN quick-fix job, to avoid facing tough decisions at council level between elected members.
They have done a Pontius Pilate and kicked the decision-making process back to the electorate.

Green politician Arnold Cassola was once upon a time a Maltese politician. Now he will be trying his luck with Prodi’s kawlata of parties if there ever was one, ranging from repentant Christian democrats, stiff centrists to old communists and transsexuals. It is the biggest joke on this side of the Med.
I was wondering what Cassola will do if he does not get elected. Return I am told. How nice!
But then I just remembered he has the privilege of having a frozen university post just in case he decides to return (frozen university posts should be for state-appointed posts such as the case with Vicki Ann Cremona, not political or commercial appointments. But it appears that the university once run on the Serracino Inglott doctrine, now has a very convenient and flexible policy.) And then he groans about the bloated civil service and all that jazz.

Social anthropologist Jeremy Boissevain was the leading speaker at the Today seminar attended by a healthy mix of Maltese academics, politicians, economists, environmentalists, architects and media people. There was one great quote from his speech, about the inherent fear of Maltese to speak up.
Need I say more?

sbalzan@mediatoday.com.mt