Desmond Zammit Marmarà (The Times, April 24) periodically contributes useful knowledge of Maltese history. However, one statement – “We got our autonomy in 1921” – demands vast amplification.
The high proportion of rulers to ruled ensured hurdles numerous enough to make them obstacles
The constitutional machinery of Malta’s dyarchic system was a complex task. From 1921 to 1933 and from 1947 to 1958, this ‘edifice’ established two distinct governments. Each had legislative responsibilities and executive powers, carefully tabulated, and operating within its defined spheres.
The Maltese side of the government was responsible to a bicameral legislature.
The National Assembly had drawn up suggestions for a Maltese Constitution essentially very British. However, the elaborate details of the structure were entirely dictated by the ingenuity of the British Government.
First of all, the National Assembly had opted for a civilian governor and not a high-ranking officer. Invested with several prerogatives, the Governor gave paramount importance to imperial authority.
On the Maltese side of the dyarchy, the Senate was not merely a reviewing body but one invested with a veto power over legislation including financial. The mandatory application of a two-thirds majority rule was a frustrating hurdle. The imperial authorities knew how to play competing houses against each other, neutralising their effectiveness.
A series of conditions disqualified candidates from membership of the Senate and the Legislative Assembly. These conditions embodied a system of counterchecks to political power. Thus, the imperial authority retained responsibility for selection that favoured the conservative educated classes against working class authoritarianism. In this way, the imperial government had an indirect controlling power over candidacies.
The Constitution imposed the setting up of the following bodies: an Executive Council, a Nominated Council, a Privy Council and a Joint Committee of the Privy Council.
A tiny island was harnessed with a dyarchic system, a bicameral legislature and no fewer than four governing bodies. The high proportion of rulers to ruled ensured hurdles numerous enough to make them obstacles.
The Governor appointed the heads of department as ministers in the Executive Council. They held office “during our pleasure”. Besides, the Governor not only presided over but was also empowered to act in opposition to the opinion of the Executive Council. Once again, the old overriding authority could be called into play.
In the Nominated Council, its advice could be ignored. Hence, the old dichotomy of the Official and Unofficial Bench was retained in the division of powers.
Similarly, in the Privy Council, the responsibility remained vested in the Governor.
Equally so, in the Joint Committee of the Privy Council, the Governor could dissent from its opinion. Consequently, he could reduce the effectiveness of this body to nothing.
The imperial side of government held power over a formidable list of ‘reserved matters’.
Moreover, the Governor had power to enact laws by Ordinance; the Secretary of State had the power of disallowance and the Crown the right to legislate by order in Council on all ‘reserved matters’.
Furthermore, the power of the Maltese government to make laws was withheld from all those matters “touching public safety… defence of the Empire… and… British subjects not resident in Malta”. Assurance was made doubly sure.
The Letters Patent provided more safeguards (too numerous to include) against legislation on ‘reserved matters’. Above all, the Crown reserved “full power and authority to revoke, alter or amend” all these sections. Thus, this power could invest the imperial side of the dyarchy with unlimited authority over Maltese affairs.
Any law enacted by the Maltese side of the dyarchy on matters and services that might encroach upon imperial interests (such as drainage) and property were “reserved by the Governor for the signification of our pleasure”.
Tight control was equally exercised on laws not even remotely related to reserved matters, like appointments and removal from public offices.
The diffusion of the Governor’s power in Maltese affairs provided an additional counter check on the functions of the legislature. He could dissolve the two Houses simultaneously or separately whenever he thought fit. The old system of ‘reserve powers’ remained evident even during responsible government.
These limitations did not merely impinge on domestic concerns. They were intrinsically bound up with the everyday life of the community. As happened later, nearly all friction arose from disputes on the interpretation of matters reserved to the Maltese side of the dyarchy. The ingenuity of the Colonial Office had created an elaborate Constitution that practically reduced it to an arena where successful candidates merely aired their grievances and pursued the party struggle.
Theoretically, the construction of the Constitution followed the general lines indicated by the National Assembly. It allowed more freedom and better initiative than was possible with the Council of Government. It also went some way in gratifying group interests.
Filled with ‘enthusiasm’ for responsible government, Maltese political leaders could not then recognise that, in practice, the theoretical structure was deceptive. The Constitution was merely a screen hiding the real actors of the show.
The search for the essential partnership remained largely unfulfilled. The Maltese leaders could not accept a demarcation line that the Colonial Office blurred and moved and contracted with the fluctuating events in the Mediterranean.
The Constitution simply left the Maltese problems unresolved. It made the field in which the Maltese Government could go immensely limited.
The state of affairs continued even after World War II, when the 1947 Constitution embodied similar principles as those established by Letters Patent of April 14, 1921.
In short, the first period of responsible government was the culmination of interacting circumstances that had determined Malta’s way of life. However, it did not only embody the problems accumulated during the 19th century; it also contained the germs of the final rift with Britain.
Joe Bugeja holds a postgraduate degree in political science from Oxford University.