The Panama matter is now in its tenth week. Reams have been written and two no-confidence motions in Parliament survived. There has been a bizarre reshuffle, two protests by the Nationalist Party, and a May Day show of strength and unity by Labour. There is a growing feeling of fatigue, and of having entered a political cul-de-sac.
Sensing the last bit, the Prime Minister told us last Wednesday that it was now up to the people to decide whether or not the case was closed. Which is what politicians say when they passionately think that a case is, or should be, closed.
Only there are many reasons why it isn’t really. Even assuming that there will be no new revelations, the Panama case is as wide open as it was on February 22 when the first spot of news broke.
The easy bit is that Keith Schembri is still very much there and seemingly unscathed. Schembri is one of two people who enjoy the Prime Minister’s highest level of trust. None of us ever voted him in, nor did he rise through the ranks of the public service. He was appointed chief of staff on the sole basis of his personal friendship with Muscat. Politically, Schembri is Muscat’s Siamese twin.
Logically, what that means is that there is no way in which his case can be closed by ‘the people’. It is only the Prime Minister who has the power and responsibility to do so. Only, not only has Muscat not closed the case, he has been reluctant to discuss Schembri at all. For all we know, he’ll next be telling us that Schembri is entitled to his private life, poor soul.
The second problem is, of course, Konrad Mizzi himself. It has been said that the reshuffle was a farce at best, and I agree. Mizzi now enjoys a ghost portfolio within the Office of the Prime Minister. Which means he can happily carry on with his business without the bother of direct responsibility.
It’s a well-trodden route that people who wield considerable power often take pains to make their remits fuzzy and the limits of their responsibility arbitrary and flexible. Happily for Mizzi, the Prime Minister obliged him in exactly that way.
The grotesque was compounded by Mizzi’s removal as deputy leader of the Labour Party. Funny, because I thought I saw crowds of people milling around him, patting him on the back, and even taking selfies with him at last Sunday’s demonstration in Valletta. If Mizzi is so beloved of party people, why relieve him of his post as deputy leader? Besides, and as Marlene Farrugia said in Parliament last Wednesday, are we to understand that Mizzi is good enough for the country but not for the party?
Perhaps the maddest part is that we were told that Mizzi “paid a price”, and that he was punished sufficiently for his lack of good judgement. Let’s leave aside the fact that the Prime Minister went back on his word that he would wait for the results of the (phantom) audit. What we’re left with is a kind of rap on the knuckles, a small punishment for minor naughtiness as judged by Headmaster Muscat.
The man is desperately trying to get us to suspend our morality and to judge him on the basis of his unimpeachable competence and performance as a minister
It may well be that the Prime Minister had in mind the regime inflicted on students at St Aloysius’ College circa 1986. Peccadilloes would get you a ‘yellow door’, followed by an after-school detention and a Wednesday-in for more heinous acts of subversion. I know the details well, because that yellow door retains my likeness like a Turin shroud.
The point is that, unlike chatting in class or wearing the wrong colour of socks, political responsibility operates on the principle of all or nothing. One is fully fit to carry it, or not at all. It follows that misdeeds cannot be punished by degree.
Mizzi is keen to tell us that he deserves to stay because he has delivered. He said in Parliament last Wednesday that he was more of a delivery person than a politician – whatever that means. He has also generally promised to work especially hard to make up for his naughtiness. (That schoolboy mindset again.)
Which brings me to Benedetto Croce, and to his often-quoted saying that the truly honest politician is the competent one (il vero politico onesto é il politico capace). Croce adds that there is nothing that sets politicians apart from, say, doctors. And doctors are properly judged by their clinical competence, rather than by their virtue or lack of it. Simply put, it’s an argument against a facile moralism.
It also seems to play nicely into Mizzi’s hands. The man is desperately trying to get us to suspend our morality and to judge him on the basis of his unimpeachable competence and performance as a minister. There are, however, two problems.
First, his competence and performance as a minister are far from unimpeachable. I don’t think he’s delivered anything of significance on energy, for example. As for health, I suspect that any results there may be are largely down to the hard work and competence of Godfrey Farrugia and later Chris Fearne. Sadly for Mizzi, not all of us are impressed by code-switching and endless rodomontade.
The second problem is Croce himself, who goes on to qualify his use of the word ‘honesty’. He argues that there is, in fact, a kind of private honesty that has everything to do with public political competence. So much so that the absence of honesty can entirely undo a politician’s work, no matter how exceptional that work might be, and lead that politician to let down his party and country. Sadly for Mizzi, Croce is not to be cited out of context.
The people have nothing to do with it. The Panama case will only be closed if and when Schembri and Mizzi are dismissed and disowned by the Prime Minister.
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