A President for all

As President George Abela's five-year term draws to a close, it may be opportune to revisit the concept of the Presidency and its relevance to Maltese society today: i.e., almost half a century after the office of the President was first established when Malta became a republic in 1974.

It would almost be superfluous to state that Maltese society has evolved considerably since then; an evolution which should theoretically have been matched by corresponding revisions to the role of the person constitutionally appointed to represent that same society at all levels.

But while all the various presidents have to date influenced public perceptions of the role, the fact remains that the constitutional definitions of the president's duties and responsibilities have remained virtually unchanged since its inception 40 years ago.  

As former prime minister Alfred Sant recently reminded us, one of these definitions concerns the choice of candidate: which remains the sole prerogative of the Prime Minister, even if consultation with the Opposition has in recent years become a customary (and often disregarded) formality.

Today's choice of George Abela's successor comes at a pivotal stage in Malta's seemingly eternal quest for a national identity of its own. For better or worse, the controversial IIP scheme - whereby Maltese nationality can now be acquired for a lump sum - has forced the entire country to reassess what it actually means to be a Maltese citizen, with weighty implications for the role of Maltese head of state.

Meanwhile, the Presidency itself has this year embarked on a nationwide exercise aimed at revising (possibly rewriting) the Constitution to update it to contemporary realities.

Prime Minister Joseph Muscat will surely be cognisant of the historical context in which his decision will unfold: more so because this context also involves his own electoral promise of a Malta that truly belongs to all its citizens.

And already he faces considerable pressure, in the form of an open call by Opposition leader Simon Busuttil to appoint 'someone from the Nationalist stable', almost as a courtesy recognition of former PM Lawrence Gonzi's appointment of George Abela (a former Labour deputy leader) in 2008.

Leaving aside existing doubts regarding Gonzi's motives - the choice was criticised at the time as a ploy to 'weaken' the Opposition - Busuttil's proposal does at a glance seem to have a lot of merit. One immediate benefit would be to symbolically counterbalance the frequent criticism that Malta's political infrastructure arguably invests far too much power in the hands of the governing party, to the exclusion of all other factions.

Similar balancing acts are routine in other democracies - in the United States it is considered good practice for the two houses of representatives (Senate and Congress) to be controlled respectively by the two main adversarial parties. Similar conventions exist all over Europe, too.

Applied to the local scenario, however, this model is immediately beset by difficulties. The Maltese presidency is primarily a ceremonial role, and for this reason alone the 'balance of power' would in fact be illusory. Even with a president from the opposition camp, government would still continue to enjoy an all-but plenipotentiary grip on the country's power nodes. Indeed one could argue that a rotating presidency would only compound the existing imbalance: giving the Opposition a sop in the form of a token office that has plenty of prestige, but no real power at all.

Another consideration revolves around the practical and symbolic significance of the office of the Presidency itself... and whether the criteria for this all-important definition can be fulfilled merely by acquiescing to the two main parties' demands.

In truth, the Republic of Malta encompasses far more than the two parties themselves actually represent - now more than ever, with a burgeoning expat population that is likely to grow. And yet, projected into the future, Busuttil's proposal would also imply a permanent virtual monopoly over the presidency by the two parties. Even in today's scenario, the political 'duopoly' falls short of offering representation for all Malta's viewpoints. How much less will it succeed in this department as the country's horizons continue to broaden in future?

That said, it certainly does not follow that a President from either party's stable cannot fulfil his or her obligations merely for reasons of political allegiance alone. No doubt there are several worthy contenders from the Opposition camp who would be more than capable of putting aside their own personal views for the sake of their constitutional commitments.

But surely, when it comes to appointing the next President, the selection criteria should primarily focus on the contender's ability to successfully navigate the choppy waters of Malta's political rift, and above all to be a figurehead for all Malta's political and non-political viewpoints alike - with the question of whether this person hails from one of only two political stables falling into a very distant third place, if anywhere at all.

One thing, however, is certain. Following a spate of controversial political appointments, Muscat's choice of president will inevitably be interpreted as the litmus test of his commitment to create a truly all-inclusive society, implicit in his party's electoral slogan Malta Taghna Lkoll ('Malta For All').

Put bluntly, he cannot afford to get it wrong.