An outburst of respect and love

It seemed like it was a wrenching personal loss to the handy-man who was talking to me last week. He was telling me how Guido de Marco made him feel like the most important person in the world whenever he happened to be in the vicinity while he was doing some job for him. Prof. de Marco would thank and praise him for his work, to a point where he would feel embarrassed.

I was abroad when the news of Prof. de Marco’s death broke and on the subsequent days but, gauging electronically by the mood here, I could get a taste of the aftermath: a massive pouring out of grief from those who knew him personally and those who never spoke to him. From those who agreed with him politically and from those who didn’t. Evidently, it wasn’t simply a case of doing what is expected and speaking well of the dead.

As a party and as a government, Labour had various struggles and problems with Prof. de Marco. That is to be expected on the political level but, on a personal level, how he dealt with people is another matter. He had respect for his opponents. This is how it should be, I can hear you say. But we all know that many times it is not just ideas and arguments which are exchanged.

Whatever our political sins, what I noticed after his death was an appreciation of how Prof. de Marco acted with esteem towards those who crossed his path. It came natural to him to be pleasant, kind and above all, jovial. So much so, that it seems that only by his death was he capable of inflicting sadness on others.

Without taking away any merit from his achievements in high public office, both in Malta and internationally, which will remain recorded in our modern political history books, I think it is more the individual day-to-day experiences so many people have of Prof. de Marco that have spurred this “outburst of respect and love”, as his family put it in their statement of thanks .

I recall how, when Prof. de Marco became President of Malta, there were those who questioned what his approach would be: “It won’t be the marble palace floors I will walk but the gravelled streets”, was his reply. And he lived up to his words.

We learn, from past and recent history, that there is great temptation to overestimate a person after death. In this case, I do not believe there is such an extravagance because it is also the people on those streets who were speaking of Prof. de Marco as they knew him, as a man who genuinely cared.

I got to know him and worked with him way back in the latter part of the 1980s. I was cutting my political teeth then and Dom Mintoff had insisted I attend and take notes at the select committee meetings, which committee had been set up with the brief to recommend changes to the Constitution. The members were Mr Mintoff, Ugo Mifsud Bonnici, Ċensu Tabone, Ġużè Cassar and Prof. de Marco as chair.

It was like having to swim in the deep with sharks when I could barely wade but that was Mr Mintoff’s idea of good training. I do recall specifically that Prof. de Marco was exceptionally kind to me – without being patronising – on the first meeting because he sensed that I wasn’t exactly at ease amid these giants of Maltese politics. I now realise that, apart from all the great things a person may do in his or her lifetime, it is, above everything else, this kindness which touches us personally that remains etched deepest in our psyches.

The reactions to his death were a manifestation that Prof. de Marco’s compassion was warm and universal like the sun.

His style and attitude made an impression on me from the outset: brightness, joy of life, a sense of humour, a vivacious intelligence coupled with an approach which many times, would ultimately convince.

Around a decade later, sitting on the opposite side in Parliament, I would observe him contest a point with a smile on his face, often skilfully disarming whoever happened to be contrasting an idea of his. He would agree to disagree with respect, the best of manners and boundless optimism.

Malta is indeed poorer by the loss of such a gracious personality.

To Mrs de Marco, my colleague Mario and all the de Marco family, my heartfelt condolences.

Dr Dalli is shadow minister for the public service and government investment.