A slightly different, more expansive, headline would have worked better but it would have been unfair on a certain media house because while their erstwhile vociferousness is quite noteworthy by its dilution, they are not the only components of the ‘Fourth Estate’ that seem to have gone missing of late. When I write ‘of late’, I mean since Joseph Muscat was elected Premier.
The popular perception is that he’s managed to wrap a silken gag around a couple of formerly gabby mouths and, though this is a pretty justified perception (valid or not) in the circumstances, it’s not only these silken gags that are ensuring Muscat gets an easy ride in the press.
It is not any particular media house that I’m referring to; I’m thinking of the general malaise that seems to have afflicted the press in general. I don’t mean any specific journalists, this is more a question of attitude and energy within the sector as a whole. If you like, this is a bit of a muse about where the press is and where, in my humble opinion (humble? moi?), it should be or be thinking of being.
A touch of navel-gazing, perhaps, if you can stomach (see what I did there?) that image at this time of the morning.
There are components of the ‘Fourth Estate’ that seem to have gone missing of late
I exclude the Labour Party media from this rumination, and their GWU sympathiser, because I am enough of a realist to know that none of this side of the media equation are about to rock Muscat’s canoe by being prying, inquisitive types.
• Let’s take the stories that flew around last weekend concerning a mysterious, but apparently valuable, temporary resident of Xemxija. He’s no longer there from what our government has deigned to let us, the great unwashed, know.
The story broke on Daphne Caruana Galizia’s blog. I’m told that other media houses were following the thread but, being unshackled by the concerns of the perhaps more traditionalist hacks (justified or not as such concerns may be), she who must be unmentioned beat them to the punch.
No sooner had the story seen the light of day, and therefore had been picked up by others, than some form of D-Notice was apparently wielded by the powers that be. For the uninitiated, a D-Notice is (was?) the means by which the British government, in the manner of most things British, leans (leant?) on editors not to publish stuff that was prejudicial to the national interest, generally in a security context in times of strife.
The effectiveness of this sort of thing today, with Twitter and Facebook at the tips of everyone’s fingers, is ever so slightly debatable.
I’ve no real quarrel with restraint being urged upon the press if a genuine security issue exists and that is not the point I’m discussing, for all that I love a conspiracy theory just as much as the next man, especially with Caruana Galizia’s blog suddenly disappearing into the ether as it did last Sunday.
What I do have a quarrel with, however, is the way the ladies and gentlemen of the press seem to have rolled over and taken it lying down. The restraint on their freedom to impart information, I mean, and to make things even less palatable, the fact that no-one, at least from what I see and hear, has thought it would be a nifty idea to camp outside Manwel Mallia’s ministry (he only has two ways in that I know of and they’re next to each other on Strait Street) to ask him a few pointed questions.
Such as, leaving aside the actual identity of the mysterious denizen of Xemxija, where does the government get off parking (or allowing to be parked) someone who needs an assortment of armed heavies in the middle of a residential area without so much as a by-your-leave from the residents?
It’s not as if the aforementioned armed heavies were shrinking violets merging imperceptibly into the background, after all, they stuck out like thumbs that had just been whacked with a very large, very heavy, hammer.
And if mystery man wasn’t the former Libyan Prime Minister, who was he, and if he was such a security risk that he can’t be named, why was he such a security risk? And if he’s such a security risk, why are common citizens being exposed to collateral damage, why isn’t he in Girgenti or Verdala, which are easily defended and a sight less in yer face?
• It’s not only this sort of question that Mallia isn’t being asked, or his boss.
Another story that is going around is about the charges that Mallia’s chief of staff is said to be facing at the prosecuting hands of the police in the Magistrates’ Court, relating to assault.
Let me be crystal clear: I’m not saying Silvio Scerri is guilty or that he is anything but as pure as the driven snow.
That made clear, surely his boss, or his boss’s boss, should be asked how seemly it is for the chief of staff in the ministry under which the police fall to remain in office pending the matter being cleared up? Why aren’t the press stuffing their recorders under Mallia’s nose asking him just that little thing?
They needn’t be embarrassed because, just as Mallia is not embarrassed to pontificate that he does not need to answer to the press, they needn’t be reluctant to ruffle his fine feathers.
• The Nationalist media also needs a dose of red peppers judiciously applied to its sensory areas. It hasn’t crossed my mind to leaf through In-Nazzjon or Il-Mument (do they even still come out?) for aeons and it’s about time they got their act together.
I mean this in the best possible spirit: the constitutional duty of the Opposition is to oppose the government, despite the bitching and moaning of the childish and the petty that this is negative and passé. This opposition comes in many forms, one of which is through the media and it’s high time that the Nationalist media stopped being a notice board and got more into the flesh and blood of the stories that are flying around.
Again, I appreciate that I might be being a touch unfair but perception is king and that’s the perception that people like me have of the way the Nationalist media is working.
• Nothing except for a good pizza at the Olympic on Xagħra Square by way of recommendations for physical nourishment this week, as the places we went to are places to which we’ve been before. It was a good pizza, though.
It’s the time of year when the Victoria International Arts Festival starts. This is a five-week long series of concerts, recitals and other events that go down in – you guessed it – Victoria, around the epicentre of life in that town, the Basilica of St George.
Go and take a look and have a listen, it’s worth it.
While on the subject of towns of note, it crossed my radar that some thought needs to be given to regenerating Bormla and Cospicua or publicising it if it’s happening. Anyone who thought he should write in to say what a twerp I am, they’re one and the same, yes, I know, I mulled over leaving the deliberate “error” in place, but thought better of it. The point stands, though, the area is ripe for some thoughtful work.
And, in closing, a brief reminder that, tonight, England will be playing some team or other who will do their utmost not to lose lest they return to their homeland to a volley of tomatoes as they did in 1966. A masterclass in football is expected.
And before the threatening phone calls and insulting e-mails start, please do note that I’m kidding, pretty please.
imbocca@gmail.com
www.timesofmalta.com/articles/author/20