Rütli in the Mediterranean

The meadow of Rütli is green, clean, clearly-signposted, and enjoys some wonderful views over a lake. It is otherwise featureless, an unlikely place for a national shrine. This, however, is Switzerland, and every year on August 1 the Swiss celebrate their national day.

Even the staidest of Zürich bankers will take to the turf to grill a few bratwurst to the health of the Confederation. Fireworks are let off and speeches broadcast live from the meadow. One would be hard-hearted indeed not to concede a sense of national pride.

Rütli is where, around 700 years ago, three burly Alpines from three cantons took an oath to stick together come what may (and come the Habsburgs did). It's hard to tell where legend begins and ends, but the point is that the oath represents what Switzerland is today, a collection of disparate cantons brought together by political will into a federal republic.

The story of this average-looking meadow, then, offers all the ingredients for a right republican national day. It's old and flirts with legend, it conjures up pretty strong feelings of collective national pride, and it's a tale of political unity in the face of adversity.

Sadly, we have no mountain meadows in Malta, and our sausages tend to come from a can called cocktail. So, to beat the boredom, we've come up with not one but five national days. As follows:

June 7 was by no means a moment of straightforward national unity in the face of the British presence. Dominic Fenech's definitive Endemic Democracy emphasises that the Sette Giugno disturbances were not really directed against the British and their establishments, at least not until the shootings started. Rather, 'the targets of the rioters left little doubt that the ringleaders mingled class grievances with a general resentment towards the British - and their (Maltese) collaborators, more importantly'.

In this particular case, therefore, class grievances and insiders muddy the waters somewhat. Even if we were to indulge in a spot of 'over-kneading by hindsight' (a classic ploy of nationalisms worldwide) and imagine a Maltese revolution against the British, fact is that Sette Giugno doesn't really evoke any passions save those for an easy day off. Alone, it would make a damp squib of a national day, and we must leave it at that and head for the beach.

Where we might remember an Ottoman fleet sailing out, tail between its last legs. Colourful imagery, but very little by way of the Maltese nation-state. Even if Malta were still a colony, we would celebrate Victory Day as the day 'we', with more than a little help from our friends, prevailed. In sum, a very significant day indeed, but not for the right reasons.

National days should celebrate key moments of nations, in the ethnic as well as the political sense.

As for Republic Day, it's too much of a constitutional technicality. A rather important one of course - but then so are the conductive properties of silicon, and few would contemplate sparing them a round of fireworks. December 13 evokes no enemy, no struggle, no overcoming of any sort, and as such leaves people cold and lugging around gas cylinders for their heaters.

The real contest is between September 21 and March 31. This pair have the power really to stir people, to make them dig out their flags and march to hallowed places collectively to relive the magic of the historic moment. I've been to both Independence and Freedom Day meetings, and I've seen people moved to tears at both.

Depending which party they belong to. Half the country will tell you that there would have been no freedom without independence, the other half that independence meant nothing until freedom redeemed it.

Is there any way of finding some form of midway position? Yes, when the Swiss ban chocolate and funny cheese. The Fosos or Ħelsien Hill will never ever become our Rütli. Which means we're lumped with two national days. Plus three for a smokescreen that fools no one.

That, then, is the current state of the art: two competing big days, two non-starters, and one that has little to do with the political history of the nation. What can we do in the circumstances? Do we wear sackcloth and smear ourselves with ashes and go among the 'real' nations in eternal shame? Do we make speeches urging unity that end up causing more dissonance than ever?

There's an easy option, and that is to do nothing at all. We've sort of agreed that none of our five national days can stand alone. We've also agreed that each represents a relevant moment in the history of the nation. That's absolutely fine by me.

The rest is just nationalist hogwash. Nationalists (in the broad political sense of course, not the people at Pieta`) have a very nasty habit of wanting to see continuity where there's none. Most nations are based on some yarn of common ground of race, creed, language, and/or 'culture'. No matter how strongly the evidence tells otherwise, nationalists will dig their heels in. They will also try to convince us that their cause is worth the trouble.

For the nationalist lurking to some extent in each of us, speaking English in Malta becomes 'schizophrenia', and five national days presumably a more serious neurosis. In fact, the types who really need to see a doctor are those who persist to imagine the world as a patchwork of monolithic collectivities.

If Switzerland can have four official languages and celebrate its Rütli, surely we can afford our five national days. Happy National Day to all Maltese, then, and happy feast to all (Pieta` this time) Nationalists. If the rest choose to have their party in the spring, why argue?

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