Unpretty Bay

A spectre is haunting Birżebbuġa. Known to mediums as WIMBY (Welcome in my back yard), it is an endemic local variant of its better-known cousin.

It is also a spirit of some wonderment because it involves people actually welcoming development that threatens to spoil their lives.

When I read that the proposal to extend the Freeport was being backed by the local council, I just had to have a drink and sleep on it. The following morning I phoned the mayor, who told me that, verily, if someone was thinking of pouring a million tonnes of concrete into Pretty Bay, they were most welcome to do so.

He then mentioned an impact assessment and 'holding the Malta Environment and Planning Authority responsible', but the message was clear: Birżebbuġa council does not object to the ­proposal.

This is bizarre since, as far as I can tell, the Freeport is the single most hated object in Birżebbuġa. Despite the stiff competition.

The problem is that the mayor and his comrades are not mad, and that there is a logic behind their decision. It runs something like this: 'With elections in the offing, the Labour Party cannot afford to and will not oppose the Freeport extension, because if it did the Government would accuse it of national sabotage.

'We are a Labour local council. Local councils everywhere are expected to toe the party line. Therefore we must not oppose the proposal. To avoid being lynched and fed to the fishes by our constituents, we will mumble something about the creation of new jobs and holding Mepa responsible for any minor inconvenience that the million tonnes of concrete might, just might, cause'.

The last two sentences, or derivatives of them, are what the mayor told me. The rest is what everybody knows.

There are two issues that need explaining here. First, the fact that the opposition - and I speak ­generically, not specifically about Labour - disagree with the Government at all times except when one expects them to.

Thus, when it came to deciding how far out pontoons should extend at the yacht marina, a national fracas ensued and ended in a crisis and collapse of ­government.

Not so over the EU constitution - er, sorry, reform treaty - or the handing over of swathes of the island to corporations. In these cases it's smiles all round.

The whole village prostrates itself when a certain sacred cow is paraded. It is called 'national interest' and is defined, not by national politicians, but by multinational money or supranational politics. Anyone who dares question - let alone vote against - Smart City, or the Freeport extension, can expect to be raised to the rank of saboteur of the nation's interests.

Foreign investment is off limits, no matter how many people may suffer from its whims. In this case, it's 500 new jobs at the expense of 8,700 locals (many more if one includes Marsaxlokk and neighbouring districts).

With this in mind, I have rather mixed feelings about the opposition. On the one hand, I find the sort of bullish coercion they are subjected to quite unacceptable.

On the other, something tells me they should stand their ground and take the time to explain to us that difference is not the same as disloyalty.

The outcome of the Freeport debate of two weeks ago was pathetic: "Concluding, Dr Mangion said one welcomed this investment but it had to be ensured that the social and environment impacts were also considered" (The Times, January 24). But of course.

The second issue concerns local governance. When this was introduced in 1993, we thought the stage was set for a decentring of power.

Fifteen years on, it is clear that nothing of the sort is taking place. Local councils seem to be content collecting scrapped fridges, feeding the palm weevil, and commissioning hideous 'art'.

Why? Because their close ties with political parties, coupled with the increasing totalitarianism of the parties themselves, rob them of all real political clout. There is little sense of party-aligned (if we must) but autonomous-minded local governance.

Local councillors are, quite simply, stooges of the Labour and Nationalist parties.

There is, in fairness, a handful of exceptions. In Sliema, Alternattiva Demokratika field a candidate who is not even a member of the party.

For the second time running, if I'm not mistaken, he has won a seat and, not surprisingly, proved himself a worthy and autonomous representative of his constituents' interests.

(I also believe that AD should no longer contest the general election and concentrate instead on local government and the European Parliament - but that's their business.)

The model for local political participation was established by mayor Paul Buttigieg of Qala who, faced with the prospect of a manderaggio at Ħondoq, decided to hold, not Mepa responsible, but a referendum.

Just this once, locals got a direct voice. This flew in the face of party centralisation, and was duly ignored and forgotten.

Where it really matters, totalitarianism seems to be alive and well in Malta. Between parties, political dissent over issues of 'national interest' is met with abuse and accusations of disloyalty.

(Silly me, I thought that the point of politics was precisely to problematise such issues.) Within parties, each expects (and usually gets) unanimity of thought and expression among the ranks.

The hapless people of Bir­żebbuġa had better brace ­themselves.

Then again, they might consider an impromptu citizens' group and drop Paul Buttigieg a line on the logistics.

They have nothing to lose but their cranes.

mafalzon@hotmail.com