Victoria’s secret: in Malta, the dark side of colonialism seldom gets attention

Historical villains in public places attracted the umbrage of Black Lives Matters protesters seeking to right the wrongs of racism, slavery and colonialism. So would relocating Queen Victoria’s monument from Republic Square help us confront our colonial ghosts, or erase a part of history?

Monuments in prominent public squares carry symbolic power. They convey a message that the person represented is worthy of respect. In former confederate states in the USA, monuments for Civil War generals who fought for slavery on the wrong side of history are still revered by white supremacists. In these societies, slavery, colonialism and institutional racism are not perceived as distant past events but a living reality.

The toppling of these monuments represents a fight-back against the murderous legacy of Jim Crow, the Ku Klux Klan and present-day police brutality. It is the same anger that animates native populations confronted by monuments commemorating the “discovery” of America, which triggered a genocide. And even European citizens of African origin are faced with monuments commemorating the philanthropy of slave-owners or figures like King Leopold II of Belgium, responsible for a genocide in Congo.

But does the argument get over-stretched with politicians like Winston Churchill, who despite their odious views on colonialism and race, still fought on the right side of history in the struggle against Nazism? Where does one draw the line? What’s sure is that the discussion on monuments has empowered the oppressed to reclaim history by expressing a final judgement on their oppressors.

So where does that leave the Maltese, themselves reluctant victims of colonialism but whose historical memory remains skin deep?

Victoria’s secret: Republic Square, on Republic Street is still called Pjazza Regina on what was formerly Kingsway
Victoria’s secret: Republic Square, on Republic Street is still called Pjazza Regina on what was formerly Kingsway

Whitewashing the crime

Despite experiencing a colonial legacy which retarded its development and kept thousands in abject destitution, forcing many to emigrate, colonialism remains a taboo subject in Malta. This is especially so in a middle-class milieu, where anti-colonialism is snubbed for its association with the tumultuous Mintoffian period, a brief time where a crude attempt to construct a Mediterranean, post-colonial Maltese identity was shaped by expressions of national pride which were often derided as crass and over-politicised by the intellectual elites.

There were small steps, like renaming Prince of Wales Street in Sliema as Manuel Dimech Street; Kingsway becoming Republic Street; and other aesthetic ‘rebrands’ designed to expunge the British influence inside Malta. But these were met by retrenchment and passive resistance. Indeed, Mintoff’s post-colonial narrative failed to take off, even pushed aside when years later Malta’s intellectual class found its aspirations fulfilled by EU membership.

And it is here that the Maltese encounter a vacuum in their assessment of themselves and their past. It is an ambivalence towards colonialism that stems from the Maltese intelligentsia’s fear of losing their umbilical cord with continental elites – first Italian, then British and finally European. Before WWII, the elite’s Italian connection fostered the first anti-British sentiment. But after the war, the upper classes shifted allegiance to the Crown in disdain at the masses gravitating towards Mintoffian socialism and its aspiration for full independence.

And history does get written by dominant elites… one reason perhaps why the sinister and brutal side of colonialism gets whitewashed, relegated to boring history lessons which numb students and leaves them without any semblance of a national popular culture that is rooted in history.

A debate in a vacuum?

In such a scenario, the debate on monuments may be taking place in vacuum, triggering disbelief, uneasiness and a deeply-held fear of seeing colonial memorials replaced by some modern bizarro creation, a fear grounded in the sheer ugliness of many post-independence monuments.

While the idea of removing Queen Victoria’s monument harks back to the 1970s when the monument even had a hammer and a sickle sprayed on it, anti-colonialism is no longer the fashion within the Labour Party. Malta is now is gripped by the fever of an economic growth which thrives in our role as a service hub for the global economy, so nationalism is more comfortably deployed against the poorer others – immigrants – rather than former colonial overlords. Indeed, Labour politicians today hail from the same cultural milieu as the PN, having no appetite to confront the ghosts of the past.

Even culture minister José Herrera intervened to decry the notion of removing monuments as ridiculous. Completely oblivious to the singularity of the Queen Victoria monument occupying one of Malta’s most prominent squares, celebrating the empire and its “civilising” mission, Herrera reduced the argument to one about removing monuments associated with foreign rule – something which nobody is suggesting. “Were one to remove the statue of Queen Victoria, the same should apply for the statue of De Valette since at the time Malta was under the reign of the Knights of St John… It would be ridiculous to dismantle monuments pertaining to an imperialist period. History cannot be changed and must be taken within the context of that particular era.”

Not all monuments are equal

Aleks Farrugia, a former Torca editor, writer and educator who kick-started the debate on removing the Queen Victoria monument is unfazed by criticism of wanting to eradicate history. “The Queen Victoria monument was part of her jubilee celebrations. At the time other Victoria monuments, almost all looking the same, were placed across the British empire as a celebratory reminder of British might – a monument to dominion and subjugation, to the ‘civilising influence’ of Britishness”.

It was also a time when the “racist” ideology of empire was deployed. “The British assumed the right to colonise based on the flimsy excuse that they brought civilisation to the colonised and portrayed colonialism as a positive factor that improved the life of those they subjugated. At our own expense, Malta being primarily a fortress colony, we know that this wasn’t the case. Several royal commissions left documented black on white the backward state the Maltese were left in.”

Farrugia recoils at the argument that removing such monuments is erasing history. “It is this particular monument we are talking about – because of what it represents.”

The exact opposite opinion is expressed by self-professed conservative intellectual and historian Simon Mercieca, who fears what he dubs a “cultural nihilism” from the politicisation of the arts and prompted by “Marxist cultural theories”.

Don’t destroy history: learn from it

“What we are experiencing today is a new form of acute nihilism, a political intervention on the arts which is not new in history,” Mercieca says, blaming cultural theories of a Marxist nature being taught in British and American Universities for “inciting revolts”.

Mercieca may be making too much of an ideological point himself in rebutting what he sees as an attempt to impose “a new cultural hegemony… to dominate over all others” by creating “havoc for its own sake”.

But he makes a pertinent point when noting that such monuments themselves tell a story, which also includes rebellion, struggle and contestation. For him the removal of the Queen Victoria monument would mean removing a global symbol that represented a factual reality, not just on our little island but in a vast area of the world, adding that this would represent the removal of a significant portion of memory, including Maltese defiance of British imperialism. “From its inception, the Maltese always interpreted this monument as standing for British colonial hegemony. More than once, this monument has been at the centre of protests, including during the riots of the Sette Giugno.”

Mercieca suggests that the monument should be looked upon as just another historical landmark, similar to our bastions and St John’s Co-Cathedral or even the other monuments scattered around churches and gardens and in other places. While personally no fan of British imperialism. Mercieca does show some fondness for the Gozitan touch in the monument in which Queen Victoria “is represented wearing a Malta lace shawl over her gown”.

“If this monument is removed, another tangible part of our history, which incidentally is neither embarrassing nor shameful, will be taken away and in the long term, lost for ever as has previously happened when nihilist movements destroyed monuments which were thought to be symbols of oppressive institutions.”

Moreover, he fears more what could replace it than what stands today. “There is no guarantee that it would be replaced with a more aesthetically beautiful monument that would be endorsed by the national-popular masses. The truth is that one cannot destroy history: one can only learn from it.”

The colonial psyche

But other commentators argue that relocating Queen Vic to a less prominent place would be in itself an act of history in the making, a step towards a post-colonial future.

“It is is not about changing history but about not putting the statue of an ex-coloniser, right at the heart of Valletta city. It should also serve as a sign that we need to move past the notion of glorifying our colonisers, a psyche very much embedded within us, portrayed within our exaltation of anything foreign, without comparing and undermining anything which is local,” writer and social activist Lara Calleja noted in a Facebook comment which succinctly identifies the most lasting consequence of colonialism: the lack of confidence in Maltese culture and identity, which instead makes us prone to empty displays of nationalism, animated by ill will towards others – rather than by pride in our selves.

Even National Book Council chairman Mark Camilleri frames his argument in terms of a national cultural policy, arguing that Queen Victoria should be moved to a less prominent place, with more space given to Maltese historical figures. “I would prefer to place a statue of a Maltese intellectual in that place, such as Ġwann Nikol Muscat or Mikiel Anton Vassalli given the proximity of the National Library.”

But one risk of embarking on such culture wars focused on symbols, is that it may distract us from more crucial matters like actually reforming our political and economic system. The very discussion on these symbols could go a long way in triggering a discussion on a colonial legacy – which also influences the way we perceive state institutions – and which many still prefer to ignore. Indeed one lasting consequence of historical amnesia is how mementoes like the eight-pointed cross get appropriated by the far right, while the Queen Victoria monument is relegated to decoration, devoid of meaning, sandwiched between the umbrellas of the cafés which have appropriated a public square.