The promotional poster for the banned play Stitching.

Culture Minister Owen Bonnici’s announcement that the government was to scrap our antiquated obscenity laws is the final nail in the coffin, a coffin which has been in construction for the last six years.

The year 2009 turned out to be great for tearing down the walls of artistic censorhip. First there was the Stitching, a case which I was part of, then the Mark Camilleri case with his publication of the Aex Vella Gera story Li Tkisser Sewwi in a university newspaper, then the Raphael Vella exhibition Pornolitics, which was withdrawn from the Malta International Arts Festival at the last moment.

Camilleri was taken to court under the obscenity charges and, thankfully, acquitted. And Vella’s exhibition went on to be exhibited at St James Cavalier to the amusement of many and has now been bought to form part of the country’s national collection.

Subsequently, then culture minister Mario de Marco threw out the performing arts censorship laws and removed the stage certification board. Malta came in line with the rest of Europe.

Bonnici’s announcement clears the last major hurdle in the fight for freedom of expression.

Many may ask whether the move was necessary. The plain answer is yes because both blasphemy and obscenity are very subjective and, within the legal environs, potent tools with which to suppress freedom of expression. Stitching was banned based on those two arguments, even though the court heard a number of witnesses who saw rehearsals of the play and testified to the contrary.

The best and most effective censor of all will be the artists

However, one should not think that this is the end of the story. Far from it. Censorship has the ability to turn up in the most unlikely of places. So, for example, all artistic endeavours rely on patronage, whether in cash, in kind or in physical spaces to exhibit the work. This patronage can come from one of three main sources: the government, the Church or private donors.

In a world where the decision-makers running the government or the Church institutions are more likely to look to their task masters then the artists, then things can easily get shut down. So, in Malta, for example, 90 per cent of theatres are owned by either the government or the Church.

On the other hand, there would be few private enterprises or individuals willing to be associated with anything controversial.

In both cases: artist beware.

Then there are other more subtle ways to keep ‘things’ under control.

Ad hoc pop up places (the natural environment for underground or fringe activity) can be closed down for ‘health and safety’ reasons, impromptu street performances or street art can be stopped because artists don’t have a permit, a licence, the work is considered to be vandalism (remember the Caravaggio postboxes?) or are attracting too large a crowd, and so on and so forth.

And, of course, one must not forget the multi-headed beast: public opinion.

While most artists would have to admit that they want their work to be seen and, if not enjoyed, at least discussed and explored, public acknowledgment is a double edged sword.

In one recent case, just last year, in London the Barbican Centre had to cancel a critically acclaimed performance called Exhibit B. Created by white South African Brett Bailey, the exhibition consisted of a number of African actors who, together with the artist, recreated a 19th century ‘human zoo’, which displayed African people as scientific curiosities for European white visitors.

Its aim was to examine and critique colonial attitudes past and present. By the time it reached London, the show had been seen in 25 countries and received glowing five-star reviews.

However, despite all this, the show fell victim to an internet campaign that saw 22,000 people calling for it to be shut down and the police advised its closure because of the possibility of violence by the very heated protesters outside the venue, none of whom had seen the performance let alone discuss it with the artists. Then, of course, there is the sad case of Charlie Hebdo, where censorship was of the final deadly kind. Let us not forget that the people who were gunned down were journalists but also some of France’s finest graphic artists.

Which brings me to the main point of this opinion piece. While it is true that on paper our artistic community is now in a less precarious position with regards to the law, how really willing is it to take advantage of that new situation?

In a country as small and parochial as Malta, how many of us are willing to raise their head above the parapet? When the producer, actors and I decided to take the government to court over the Stitching case, an artist friend of mine asked: “Isn’t it time to stop now? Haven’t you made your point?”

Ultimately, the best and most effective censor of all will be us: the artists; as we try to be obliging, to kowtow, to not offend, or bite the mouth that feeds us, we, who judge our work by the number of people in the audience or the price tag on our artwork, we, who are afraid that if we do not toe the line, there is someone else ready to take our place, more ‘thankful’ than us to be given the ‘opportunity’.

If that is really the case then, perhaps, what we have done is not bury censorship but bury ourselves in a bigger, slightly more comfortable coffin.

Chris Gatt is a former artistic director of St James Cavalier.