The stark contrast between the power assumed by the Prime Minister and that of the entire electorate was highlighted last Monday. An issue fought out in a full-blown referendum was then decided by a short tweet sent by the Prime Minister from Baku.
An unlucky kestrel was shot at 12.30pm, and the incident was reported by online media within an hour. The Prime Minister was thousands of miles away in Azerbaijan, busy doing something or other. Before the clock struck four, the closure of the spring hunting season had already been announced in his tweet.
Months of signatures, debates, billboards, adverts, leaflets, arguments, sweat and blood paled into insignificance compared to this tweet. There’s nothing wrong with tweeting. Politicians all over the globe are tweeting to their digital followers. Still, the power of the prime ministerial tweet is quite grand.
There was once a time when the fate of gladiators in the Roman arena was simply decided by a thumbs-up or down from the spectators. On Monday it was a brave kestrel and his feathered friends who benefited from magnanimity and were allowed to live.
If the kestrel had planned Monday’s event as a publicity stunt, it was perfect. Not only did the bird fall into a school playground after it was shot out of the sky, but it did so during a lunch-break when the grounds were full of children. My seven-year-old nephew was one of them.
It also happened to be a school which I would guess has many parents who are not in favour of hunting. And who don’t like the idea of irresponsible men with guns prowling about in the area.
The kestrel in the school yard put the Prime Minister in a tight spot
The boys were upset at the sight of this injured and bleeding bird which fell at their feet. The police came to the school and took the bird away. What the memory of this incident will mean to them, when they grow up and begin to take an interest in squabbles about hunting, is anyone’s guess.
These scenes from the national hunting drama have all been enacted before. Besides tweeting, a new element is that every decision seems to be controlled solely by the Prime Minister, whether in a tweet or otherwise.
I recall that when the hunting season was closed prematurely in 2007, it was the environment minister at the time, George Pullicino, who announced the decision and took responsibility for it, after consulting his prime minister.
In the mid-1990s, when the government attempted to introduce stricter hunting regulations, it was the parliamentary secretary for the environment, Stanley Zammit, who bore the full brunt of the hunters’ anger and threats, with police protection stationed outside his home.
In contrast, a campaign on spring hunting has just concluded, and the season came and went, with the present Environment Minister Leo Brincat nowhere in sight. It is not even clear whether he was informed beforehand that the season was being closed by the Prime Minister on Monday afternoon.
Instead of being centred on nature conservation, access to the countryside or traditions, spring hunting is now a police matter and revolves around whether hunters respect the rule of law or not. Quite a few of them evidently do not.
Applying a derogation from the EU Birds Directive has degenerated into an approach towards hunters, from both political parties, that is almost like telling children that they will be given permission to play, as long as they behave, with this being their ‘last chance’.
After so many years of political manoeuvring, nothing in this sector is taken at face value. The kestrel in the school yard put the Prime Minister in a tight spot. Perhaps it was also a golden opportunity to sweeten the anti-hunting lobby, close to the end of the season. The Opposition leader said that the decision to close the season was inevitable.
Actually, I don’t think that anything, besides death and taxes as the saying goes, is truly inevitable, especially in politics. Things could always have played out differently, starting with the misguided relaxation of hunting regulations in 2013, which was completely insensitive to over a decade of tough discussions with the anti-hunting lobby.
This move was a kick in the teeth and opened Pandora’s box, which ultimately led to the referendum. Political party activists pushing the Yes vote on April 11 was also not inevitable, it was a choice.
What was predictable, if not inevitable, was that the referendum would turn up the heat on hunting. The punishments for illegal hunting are increasingly harsh, and every hunter in court is a media spectacle.
Once autumn hunting starts in September, the Prime Minister will be under pressure to close the season as soon as illegalities are reported, as they surely will be, if past experience is anything to go by. He already closed the season for a short period last autumn, so he will obviously be expected to do it again.
The success or failure of politicians depends on a long series of decisions, whose outcome is not pre-determined.
This is why a week in politics can be a long time, let alone five years.
petracdingli@gmail.com