Every five years we hold a general election. A campaign lasting weeks leads up to it. During that period not many decisions are taken by the government. The private sector too works at a slower tempo. In the process we spend a lot of public money. What is at all in aid of?

We do it because we are a democratic country. We have a good democratic model of government. It doesn’t work perfectly. But then, perfection is not of this world.

It functions well enough. We have also taken steps to squeeze out an old basic imperfection, to ensure that the people’s will is respected, that a voting majority yields the right to form a government.

Why go through this costly, time consuming process? Because a democracy is governed through the rule of law. And we need someone to enact new laws according to changing requirements, and to bring old laws up to date.

Because we not only need a government to fulfil the executive function, but we also need an opposition to act as a watchdog, to criticise it, and to offer an alternative at the next general election. The primary function, then, is to enact laws, enabling the opposition and government backbenchers to discuss them in principle, on the second reading, and in detail, at the committee stage.

The secondary function, to act as a watchdog and criticise the executive, is also very important, but the legislative council is basic to democratic government.

In fact a new government inaugurates a new legislature with a speech prepared by Cabinet (and read out by the President) in which it sets out the actions it proposes to take through new legal measures during the life of the legislature.

This function is so basic that, when I was first elected in 1962, I did not become an MP – I became an MLA, a Member of the Legislative Assembly. It was later that elected members became MPs – Members of Parliament to reflect their broader role.

The legislative function takes place in the House of Representatives, and nowhere else. MPs best reflect the will of the people who elected them in the House of Representatives, and nowhere else. MPs may wear their legs out on home visits, or get a stiff backside from sitting for hours in their political surgery, listening to constituents. They best translate those hours in the House of Representatives, and nowhere else.

There they have the opportunity to put written parliamentary questions to ministers, and to challenge the replies when they are given orally. Then there is the normal business of the House. MPs can intervene on Bills as they wend their way through the House, on statements and motions. MPs who utilise their membership and attendance of the House with energy and vigour develop into knowledgeable and effective interlocutors.

That was how it was in 1962. We used to make it a point to be in the House at the appointed time of the sitting. To take part in debates. To be in the House when the adjournment motion was put, to try to get a chance to speak on any subject of our choice, or to listen to intervention by others, usually spirited backbenchers from both sides of the House.

Quite a number of us used to stay at the House through whole sittings, admittedly with breaks in the bar or in the opposition or government room. But we were there, part of the proceedings, with question time and the adjournment half hour as backbench highlights.

I lost my seat in 1966 and returned to the House in 1981. I found it much changed. I still went regularly to sittings. Like other ministers I had a room in which I could work during sittings. I still went to my seat in the House as often as I could. But it was not the same.

Question time had lost much of its vim. The adjournment half hour had become a disaster. It was frequented only by the one or two speakers whose turn it was to stand up, and, should they be criticising a minister, by him/her or a representative. The loneliness of that half hour was frightening.

It was like that for 17 years I spent as an MP from 1981, except for the spirited times of the Labour government of 1996-98 when Dom Mintoff determinedly made life hell for Alfred Sant.

The House of Representatives had lost its ethos. It became a location for a quickie. MPs stepped in for long enough for the Clerk of the House to note their presence, and rushed out again. It lost it further when arrangements were made for votes to be taken in a bunched way at the end of a sitting to permit the government to avoid snap votes and muster its troops.

Gone are the days of proud membership, of oral swashbuckling, of MPs eager to follow what was going on and contribute their say to it. When I’m asked whether I miss active politics I give a stock reply – I miss the opportunity to stand up in a debate and speak impromptu, and then listen to impromptu replies.

Now it’s grown worse. The House does not seem to be the home of MPs, if not of all of them of too many of them. Some don’t bother to turn up at all. Not even perfunctorily. Their excuse is that they are busy elsewhere. Serving constituents. Or practising their profession.

This is not only a disgraceful attitude towards electors and the public money they spend electing Members of the House of Repre­sen- ­tatives; it is also a loss to MPs themselves, a loss of opportunity to expand and improve.

Have I run the risk of some MP raising a breach of privilege against me by writing all that? If so I won’t mind. It might give me an opportunity to go to the hearing and add to it.

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