Stories like Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book imagine a child growing up outside a human community. The child does not learn how to behave in human society, how to talk, dress or eat. Essentially, it cannot access the vast storehouse of human knowledge, acquired over many generations.
The ability to store and transmit skills and information is an essential component of civilisation. Without the accumulation of memories and experience, mankind would not progress from a primitive state.
Science and the humanities advance through the human ability to record, preserve and pass on knowledge, over centuries. We are not born knowing anything, besides basic animal instincts for survival. The achievements of civilisation must be taught to each individual from scratch. Deep down, we could all be Mowgli, the jungle boy or man-cub.
The past is a fascinating place. For some, this is an imaginary world, maybe assuming that people were somehow better, happier, cleverer or more sophisticated in times gone by. Any historian knows this is not necessarily the case. Popular and scholarly views of history can diverge quite a bit.
People often imagine idyllic past communities. They examine old photographs and paintings, perhaps recreating a fictional world of gentlemen in fine clothing and grand houses, and ‘genuine’ people in villages with traditional folk customs.
It is not always reality but it can be fun. It manifests an attachment to history which seems almost instinctive. Preserving and sharing knowledge (and dreams) is fundamental.
The past also establishes our identity. Here it becomes charged with emotion, and evolves from history to ‘heritage’. This can involve language, cuisine, customs or objects. Attachment to physical spaces, from the countryside to urban streets and individual houses, can be very emotional.
It is not possible or even desirable to stop change, yet change that is too fast creates anxiety. Losing the buildings or character of towns and villages can provoke strong reactions. Places are tightly linked to perceptions of identity. The wide support for heritage organisations, and their endurance and stature, is rooted in this.
No bluster about a thriving economy will remove the whiff of unethical behaviour
Regrettably, heritage concerns are dismissed far too lightly by the Planning Authority. Permits are currently being issued for a stream of demolitions of old buildings, as well as substantial new construction in the countryside. While these places do not always have exceptional historic importance, they may have a heritage value, which is different.
The results are not yet visible but if this trend continues we will witness further widespread changes in the coming years, both urban and rural. If a good vision underlies all this, it might not be so bad. Sadly, I do not believe that all these permits and sweeping changes are guided by much long-term vision at all.
Planning decisions often just react to demands from pushy developers and individual property owners for short-term gain. They disregard the wider picture and the sensitivity of local communities to the destruction of their beloved streets and landscapes.
• Politicians are handed power by the electorate to make policies and decisions on their behalf. It is not rocket science to understand that they can abuse this power for personal gain. Politicians can end up serving themselves and their circle, instead of the community as a whole.
For reassurance that temptation for abuse is being resisted, people expect politicians to display integrity. This implies being honest and having principles, and simply doing the right thing. People expect greater integrity from politicians than from others, since they enjoy a high level of trust. They are temporarily granted big responsibilities and privileges by the electorate during their time in office.
Politicians who are perceived as opportunistic or self-serving damage their reputations. Corruption or dishonesty is ‘game over’ for a political future. Ultimately, if a politician’s integrity seems diminished then his or her authority is reduced. With the mishandling of Panamagate, for instance, the credibility of the Prime Minister has suffered.
Unfortunately, this also extends to all the other MPs who publicly support Joseph Muscat’s determined defence of Konrad Mizzi and Keith Schembri. Whatever they may think privately does not affect public perception. It is what they say and do in public that counts.
The first to learn this lesson is Leo Brincat. Following his vote defending Mizzi in Parliament, his nomination to the European Court of Auditors is under increased scrutiny. This was highlighted by international press reports. Two albatrosses named Konrad and Keith will join his delegation at the hearing. They will not be physically present, but they will be there in spirit.
They also influenced international news reports on Muscat’s participation in the anti-corruption event held last week. A loss of reputation is hard to reverse, and reputation must therefore be carefully safeguarded. This does not only apply to individuals but also to industries, including financial services. A cart with a couple of broken planks can keep going, but once you break a wheel it is over.
Bill Clinton’s presidential campaign in 1992 had coined the phrase: “It’s the economy, stupid.” The often repeated, sharp response is: “It’s the ethics, stupid.” They must have missed that one at Castille. No bluster about a thriving economy will remove the whiff of unethical behaviour.
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