It is pretty obvious that Joseph Muscat does not brook opposition lightly. I don’t mean that he is undemocratic and wishes that the Opposition didn’t exist, that’s why I used a lower case ‘o’ in the first ‘opposition’. That said, like every politician, I suppose he must think he knows best, so in his heart of hearts, I suspect that he does wish that the Opposition weren’t there, actually, but that’s not my point.

What I meant was that he does not take kindly to his words and deeds being disputed, contradicted or otherwise gainsaid. Let me illustrate.

It is obvious, to anyone with the slightest grasp of constitutional law and practice, to a mere child, in fact, that the only real important national date, the only one with the slightest significance over a reasonable span of history, is September 21, 1964, the day when independence was gained.

What we refer to, with only the slightest of mocking smiles, as ‘Freedom Day’ commemorates only the fact that the lease ran out on a number of British armed forces’ bases and they declined to agree new terms with Dom Mintoff (oh, the irony, incidentally, of this individual being given a posthumous ‘Independence Medal’). No heroic struggle or negotiation was involved: Mintoff wanted ‘£xxxx’, the Brits said: “thanks but no thanks” and the rest is history.

Republic Day, also, signifies merely the change from a constitutional monarchy to a constitutional presidency (slightly less respectful of the Constitution, as things turned out, in the shorter term) with the Head of State’s powers being identical in both instances.

The only real important national date is September 21, 1964

Both these momentous events (yes, my tongue was in my cheek) and, to be sure, the fourth one we’re (more properly, they’re) celebrating this year, Malta’s accession to the EU, could only have happened because we are an independent State with our destiny in our own hands. So it follows, as night follows day, that Independence Day is the one, true and only national day of any significance.

This year’s Independence Day was celebrated with the coming among us, somewhat playing second fiddle to his missus, it has to be said, of the second in line to the very throne that was asked to shove off a few years after we gained independence. Dr and Mrs Muscat basked in the reflected celebrity-ship of Prince William, while many lamented the fact that her sister wasn’t deputising for his wife.

During the celebrations, many fine words were proclaimed by the Prime Minister about national unity, about how the country had reached a watershed and how fine and dandy everything was now that a new style of politics was being practised.

Many of us were pretty bemused by all this and not only by the Prime Minister’s idiosyncratic use of the word “watershed”, given that he didn’t bother to use it in its normal sense. Perhaps it was his British sense of humour.

We were even more bemused, though, by the fine show of unity that was put on when the Prime Minister’s immediate predecessor in office, Lawrence Gonzi, and Gonzi’s own predecessor, Eddie Fenech Adami, were not given access to what has been described as the VVIP area during the evening bunfight. The Palace (Buck House, not ML Coleiro’s) was blamed but forgive me if I invite a tug on the other one, the one with bells on it.

Any semblance of unity went out of the window, it need hardly be said, as soon as the leader of the Opposition made the perfectly valid, indeed the obvious, point (see above) that Independence Day is the only real national day we should be talking about. He was immediately branded as negative, as not having learnt any lessons and being a typical regressive Nationalist, proving Joseph Muscat really, really, doesn’t like anyone arguing the toss with him.

Last week, I put on record my view that Minister Owen Bonnici need not resign simply because he’s being prosecuted for a driving offence. I stand by that. However, following the dear lad’s comments a few days ago, I rather think he needs to consider stepping aside for the heinous (political) offence of treating us like children.

Bonnici was making it known that, as far as he was concerned (though it was the Prime Minister’s call), Lou Bondì should be retained to continue giving service beyond his one-year contract because he had made such a good fist of organising the various national events.

Which is true enough: I’d go as far as to say I’d agree without carping if it meant that the gentleman, who should be wearing a big red nose and long flappy shoes at the helm of the V-18 farce in the making, was told to take a hike.

But that does not appear to be the reason why Bonnici wants Bondì to stay, sadly for our national artistic pride. Anyone would be better than Micallef, Jason of that ilk, so it’s no real compliment to Bondì to say that.

Nope, Bonnici betrayed his subconscious, or unconscious, or Freudian, call it what you will, intent by saying that the quality of the assorted national festivities demonstrated that when people of different political colour work together, success is the result. By drawing attention to Bondì’s political leanings, Bonnici highlighted exactly that which he did not mean to highlight.

Bondì’s success at organising the various events has nothing to do with the fact that he is Nationalist, or Jedi Knight, or whatever. For better or for worse, he gets things done and that’s not a function of his political beliefs.

So Bonnici’s reference to these beliefs merely bolstered an impression that many people have formed, namely that Muscat’s recruitment of Bondì was simply a cynical ploy that had the double-whammy effect of shutting down his party’s former nemesis and of lending truth to the untruth that Labour in government are blind to political leanings, that if you’re good, you can work with them.

So much is the latter point true that in every public debate to which reference is made to Labour appointing unfit-for-purpose cronies to publicly-funded positions, Labour’s spinners invoke the name ‘Bondì’ and they do it without the venom and spite that was reserved for him before they came to power.

If I were a Labour activist with any pride, I’d be up in arms at Bonnici, along with his boss. His linking of Bondì’s political leanings with the success of the various events means that it is now open to nasty weavers of webs like me to point at them and laugh.

And they say: “listen to Bonnici, guys, he’s saying you have to be a Nationalist to know how to get things done; he wants to keep Bondì on, the guy you all so loved to hate, up to the point when you were ordered to stop it by your leader.”

Keep Bondì on, or don’t, it’s no skin off my nose, guys, but please don’t take us for idiots who will swallow every yarn you spin for us.

I can’t let this week go by without expressing – albeit with a few reservations (check out my blog) – my heartfelt approval of the suspension of hunting decreed by Muscat. It had to be him who took the decision; incidentally, the rest of his Cabinet haven’t the attributes.

My revulsion with hunting has long been a matter of record and if this partial, temporary, ban is foreplay for the big thrust, the banning of that horrid activity all together, then I’ll lead the chorus in two cheers for the Prime Minister.

It won’t mean I will become one of his fans, both he and I know that, but it will mean that my take on him will have to be revised. I won’t be holding my breath waiting but, as I said in my blog, a girl can dream, can’t she?

imbocca@gmail.com

www.timesofmalta.com/articles/author/20

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