Will 2015 be the year when things go back to normal?

That all depends, of course, on what you understand by ‘normal’.

Normality remains one of the few things in life to elude any objective definition; for me, it is ‘normal’ to look into the mirror first thing in the morning and be momentarily disconcerted by the sight of Captain Caveman looking back.

But while we will never agree on what is ‘normal’ to everybody, the absence of normality is generally a lot easier to discuss. And the year that has just passed did have a vaguely abnormal feel to it. It was not just the weather with which it ended that was slightly freakish: some of the events it ushered in were likewise bizarre... and in a sense, so was our general reaction.

As I recall, 2014 began with a great big hullaballoo about the IIP ‘passports for sale’ scheme. The scheme on its own was pretty outlandish to begin with (we had never really agreed upon what a Maltese national identity even was, let alone how much we should charge for one); but what struck me more was the speed with which the entire furore subsequently died down. 

Remember the devastating and near-unanimous indictment of Malta by the European Parliament last January? Well, a few weeks later the European Commission officially approved a mildly toned down version of the same scheme; and next thing we knew, law firms that had previously lambasted the idea as a ‘devaluation of Maltese identity’ were falling over themselves in the mad scramble to get a foot in the door. 

With almost the same alacrity, all the intrepid investigative journalism that had initially accompanied the event (‘Mysterious Chinese man spotted at Malta International Airport’, etc.) seemed to die a natural death. Now that all these ‘mysterious foreigners’ had become clients of lawyers with political connections, all interest in their identities and intentions was instantly dropped like a hot Wonton. 

Today? Nobody’s even talking about the IIP scheme anymore. It has become as accepted a part of the landscape as a Turkish kebab shop or a Sicilian pasticcieria. Just another of the many things that make this country the quirky little place it is…

The more recent guns-blazing controversy in the Sta Venera tunnel is an even better example. Here, the incident itself was by far the most bizarre single occurrence of the entire year. Had it been scripted as part of a local television series like ‘Dejjem Tieghek, Becky’ (only the name would have to be ‘OK, Siehbi Sheehan?’) you would probably have dismissed it as an outrageous zinatta. One thing you certainly wouldn’t call it was ‘normal’.

But it worked out the same as the passport business: following an initial avalanche of opprobrium, the controversy itself was quickly overtaken and forgotten. Far more quickly, in fact: in this case it took three weeks for the wheels of the political responsibility machine to finally get themselves into gear – well, what do you expect? It was a little rusty after so many decades of disuse – but once it got into motion, the Minister’s head was duly affixed to the battlements within hours. 

Which also means that there was simply nothing left to talk about on that score… except, perhaps, the rather more important issue of conducting the necessary administrative reforms to the Police Force, in the light of all the findings of the judicial inquiry.

Oh, but look: we are not talking about that, either. The only thing that interested the nation about the whole affair was the political demise of Manuel Mallia. Once that objective was achieved, all that remained was for both sides to claim victory: the PN for having dealt a stinging blow to Muscat’s cabinet (and ego), and Labour for having done what no Nationalist administration would have done (or so they argue), and given a minister the boot. And hey presto! The political scoreboard was adjusted to reflect the parties’ new standings, and… that’s all, folks, Mission accomplished.

As for the concatenation of events that actually led to both the controversy and the subsequent police cover-up… well, Mallia’s resignation has no bearing on any of that at all. Nor for that matter does the Acting Commissioner Ray Zammit’s. All the pieces of the same jigsaw – the flawed procedures whereby crimes are investigated and information relayed to the public – are still in place today. I am aware that the new minister, Carmelo Abela intends to do something about all that (exactly what remains woefully unclear), but then… it’s not as though anyone’s actually interested, is it? We all got to enjoy the spectacle we paid for, and had fun doing a Mexican wave while we were at it, too. 

Both these issues (and there were others) seem to illustrate broadly the same pattern. Something happens to get the political circus all excited and at each other’s throats… the cauldron is heated to boiling point… then the whole issue just fizzles out, leaving little or nothing behind to show that it had even existed.

OK, I know you’re probably thinking that this same pattern unfolds pretty much year in, year out… but there has been a certain tension simmering in the background this year which cannot be explained by the nature of the controversies themselves. Our reactions to such events have often exceeded the level of outrage they actually warranted; and this in turn can only be amplified by the suddenness with which the ruckus inevitably dies down, even though the issue remains more or less unresolved. 

It is as though we want to be outraged at something… anything… yes, that’ll do nicely for now: and whatever issue we choose to vent our outrage upon, it will be inflated beyond proportion to meet the current need.

And that makes the controversies of 2014 slightly different from those of yesteryear. I began writing articles in newspapers in 1995, just before the election that brought Alfred Sant into power. You could almost say my first 10 years in this job evolved in step with an increasingly strident EU debate, that culminated in the referendum of 2003 (followed by the more decisive election in 2004). The urgency and tension in the air was considerably greater back then… much, much greater… but then, so was the source of the division that fuelled it. 

Inevitable one finds oneself making comparisons between then and now. And that’s the funny thing: there’s no real comparison to be made, at least insofar as issues and events are concerned. The level of uncertainty that hovered over the EU question simply has no counterpart in today’s Malta. Nor has there has been anything quite like an Opposition leader refusing to acknowledge a referendum result, as there was in 2003. 

Milking those memories served the PN well in 2008, but with both parties now waving the blue flag with yellow stars, that particular cow has long been milked dry.

Yet in 2014 an attempt was made to inflate a particular issue to almost the same level of anxiety and unrest as we experienced in March 2003: the reported plan to postpone next March’s local council election to 2019… which today’s opposition leader described as a threat to democracy comparable to the situation in Hong Kong.  

Again, the controversy fizzled out with spectacular suddenness – all it took was the Prime Minister saying, ‘hey, we were only kidding. Sure you can have your election in March…” And that was it. Back to casting about for the next freak incident to turn into a national furore…

All this raises a couple of questions. If the source of the tensions of yesteryear is no longer applicable today: why does the tension still exist, albeit in lesser doses? And another question is: how sustainable is the political tempo of 2014, if it is to carry on unabated into the New Year… considering that the next general election is still three years away?

Regarding the first question, we would have to go a little further back in time than 2003. One other thing this era has in common with the late 1990s is that, then as now, Labour was in power and the Nationalists in opposition. As already intimated, back then there were real and pressing issues to raise the political tempo; and there was also the memory of the 1970s and 1980s, which was still as alive as so many of the protagonists of those stormy decades (and which, by the same token, is now equally dead and buried). 

For these reasons alone, the traditional formula of ‘predicting cataclysm and catastrophe under any government than a Nationalist one’ worked like a charm, winning the PN six out of seven consecutive elections. Yet this also means that the same PN now has a heck of a lot more experience in government than it does in opposition. And in the meantime, the country has changed… even if its own political strategies clearly have not. 

The PN can take a lot of the credit for this change, too; but in today’s reality, we are well aware that all the serious decisions involving economic administration and political direction are simply no longer in our government’s hands at all; and this not only changes our perceptions and expectations of politicians; it also changes the political strategies necessary to survive and thrive. 

Yet the PN is sticking to the same formula even today… i.e., predict chaos and confusion, then spend years trying to latch onto anything to vindicate those predictions… perhaps because it is the only Opposition formula it actually knows. But is it the right strategy for today? Will it work again in time for the next general election? 

Those are questions I would seriously be asking myself if I were captaining the Nationalist ship at the moment. But then, there’s a whole new year coming up, and with it a possibility that things might finally start reverting to ‘normality’… which I can now tentatively define as ‘a state of affairs in which public reactions are actually in proportion to the events and issues that spark them’. 

There will be a few electoral tests this year. Now that the March local elections will indeed be held, they might level the scores further on that political scoreboard I mentioned earlier. A lot has happened since last June, when the European elections failed to rock the Muscat boat too much: the government’s energy plans have hit a couple of snags; the Mallia resignation interlude has left gunpowder residue on the political canvas, etc. etc.. 

More significantly, there has also been a cooling off since the aura of enchantment that propelled Muscat to victory in March 2013. All this might – but then again might not – be reflected in the local elections result. And as (or if) the political gap starts to close slightly, one would expect the sensation of ‘crisis’ and ‘calamity’ that has gripped the PN to also subside slightly.

Then there’s the small matter of the referendum on spring hunting, which will most likely be held concurrently. For better or worse, this referendum will take a sensitive decision right out of both parties’ hands: a ‘yes’ victory would instantly absolve both Labour and PN for a decision that will instantly infuriate a sizeable chunk of both their support bases; a ‘no’ result would work the same way, only it will be another sizeable chunk of the electorate to be left fuming. 

Either way, the event will rub out the issue of spring hunting from any future electoral promise list… and one more chess-piece will have been removed for both parties. 

All this points towards a gradual reduction in volume on the political urgency scale – though of course I may be wrong – and on that hopeful note, let me take the opportunity to wish you all a Happy Normal Year.