There was a piece in the Times of Malta the other day about ‘silent fireworks’. It seems that a town somewhere in post-Berlusconi Italy has banned bangs and limited the use of fireworks to silent ones. This was after the town’s pet animals complained (verbally) that the noise made by fireworks during festivals and events caused them ‘severe stress’.

At first I thought that our fine newspaper had come up with a spoof of the first order. Only I realised as I read on that there wasn’t a single raised eyebrow in sight, and that the piece was dead serious.

Like most people in Malta, I live surrounded by legions of gods and saints in various stages of slow and painful deaths. What that means, among other sanctifying things, is that every so often in summer, my house shakes to the point of near-collapse. It also means that my siesta is not infrequently disturbed by loud explosions.

I have been known to fume and swear horribly at the men who do this to me for no reason other than their love of noise. Even so, I don’t generally think they should be stopped. On the contrary, I find the idea – and the sight, and sound – of fireworks rather heart-warming, especially when it comes as part of festa.

A little over a year ago Jeremy Boissevain, a fine anthropologist who sadly died last June, was awarded an Honoris Causa degree by the University of Malta. In his acceptance speech, he entertained us with the story of his first night in Malta half a century ago. Keen to catch up on some sleep, the Boissevains had instead found themselves blasted out of bed with a set of early-morning explosions.

So, did they start a campaign to ban fireworks on the grounds of ‘severe stress’, then? Not at all. Quite the opposite in fact, as Boissevain went on to enjoy festa as a villager-by-osmosis, and to write some excellent scholarly stuff about it. He was the kind who could swear at things even as he found them charming enough to be his life’s work. It’s an attitude I admire greatly.

Still, the attitude of anthropologists hardly makes for a terribly solid argument. Which is why a couple of years ago a student of mine called Christine Cassar and I decided to look into this matter of fireworks and noise (or is it sound? – that’s the question).

The first thing the enthusiasts (‘dilettanti’ in the Maltese sense that actually means masterly), and indeed people who enjoyed festa generally, told us, was that there could be no festa without fireworks. As they put it, ‘bla nar m’hemmx festa’.

I’ve a feeling that there are many sick and elderly people who find the sound of fireworks rather a jolly interlude

This was not just an old piece of apologetic rhetoric. What they meant was that festa is a composite of experiences that involves all of the five senses. It’s a heady cocktail of baroque decorations in garish colours, the taste of hot dogs and nougat, the smell of gunpowder and incense, the sound of bells and petards, and the feel of cushions of confetti.

In more exalted circles it’s called a Gesamtkunstwerk, a total work of art. The successful festa is one which brings together the various elements in a convincing and enjoyable choreography.

The second point they made was that the sound of fireworks goes a long way in structuring the festa. The explosions are not as random as they sound to the untrained ear. When I hear the burst known as the kaxxa, for example, I know that somewhere, an image of gilded torture is leaving or entering a church to a sea of effervescence.

Third, the sound made by fireworks is not some kind of by-product. It is actually part of their essence, in the same way as pain is part of the experience of getting a tattoo. The dilettanti we spoke to often made funny popping noises with their mouths as they described the ways in which particular kinds of petards burst. There may be some room for silent fireworks, but only as part of a display that also includes noisy ones.

Fourth, the thing with noisy fireworks is that one cannot just look away. As the Boissevains discovered, they slice through space and buildings and impact (‘jheżżu’) our physical bodies. And, while this might not be universally enjoyable, it is part of the whole point of fireworks, which is ultimately to purvey festa to people. Problem is, that includes those who never wanted anything purveyed to them in the first place.

Which brings me to the staple argument about the ‘elderly and the sick’. Because, you see, the people who want petards banned are simply philanthropic folks who prize the welfare of the elderly and the sick above all else.

I realise I’m sailing close to the wind here, but I’m not entirely convinced. I’ve a feeling that there are many sick and elderly people who don’t just wish to sleep all day, and who find the sound of fireworks rather a jolly interlude. I know I’d be cheered up no end at the thought that somewhere out there, there was fun to be had. I’d be especially cheered up if I could link that fun to a festa I knew well and loved.

Nor am I moved to tears at the thought of the ‘severe stress’ felt by pet animals. I don’t suppose dogs particularly enjoy being neutered, or hectored about and asked to sit or ‘shake hands’ when they don’t feel like doing so. It comes with being a pet I suppose – an animal, that is, which is bred and pampered for human enjoyment.

Really, silent fireworks are a non-starter. I’d rather live my life having to swear on occasion but being generally charmed by other people’s enjoyment. If that involves counselling fees for dogs and cats, so be it.

mafalzon@hotmail.com

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