I’m writing this piece on Sunday 28 September at 4.00p.m.overlooking a beautiful garden. The scene is quiet and peaceful, almost idyllic. But where I was same date, same time but 24 years ago was neither peaceful not quiet. It was full of tension. By 4.00p.m. of the 28 September 1984 I was exhausted. It was the day the Curia was ransacked.

The phone rang ….

It all started the day before: September 27. Rumours were rife that the aristocracy of the workers a.k.a. Dockyard workers were going to attack the Curia during the demonstration they were due to hold on the following day. The Curia’s lawyer informed the Police Commissioner of these rumours. It was a very tense day and the anticipation made the night even tenser.

After celebrating Mass I went to the residence of the Archbishop at Mdina. The first one to come over was Fr Joe Magro. He had been at Police Headquarters where he received, on behalf of the Archbishop, a petition from the women’s section of the Labour Party. That demonstration was quite peaceful. All went well.

Meanwhile the dockyard workers were on their way to Valletta. They were driven in large open trucks, courtesy of the dockyard. Many held iron bars as a token to their place of work and tools they used. No hint of intimidation entered their minds.

The phone rang. The priest at the other end informed us that the Curia had just been ransacked. Silence reigned. What can one say at such a moment?

I drove down to Floriana. I have a distinct recollection that I must have gone over the speed limit as I got there in record time. Why am I driving so fast? What will I do when I get there? What have they done? What damage have they caused? How will people react? Will this attack strike fear in people’s hearts? Many questions rushed through my mind; just questions. No answers.

A terrifying scene

I opened the side door opposite Argotti garden. It was the door used by the criminals to gain access to the Curia. The police, armed by the information supplied by the Curia lawyer, had amassed themselves near the front door. The other doors were conveniently forgotten and left unattended. Fortunately no one was in the building as it had been evacuated, and the Blessed Sacrament had been taken to a safer place.

On opening the door the eerie silence which filled the building shrieked a savage welcome. This was accompanied by a terrifying scene, too difficult and emotional to describe well. Shattered glass, smashed furniture and broken statues were the remaining witnesses of the vile attack.

I walked the corridor towards the chapel. The silence was broken by the glass scrunching beneath my shoes. The scene in the chapel made be shiver. Broken benches were all over the place and on top of each other. Even the altar had been attacked. Nothing was left in its place. They even tried to break the little door of the Tabernacle.

I prayed in silence asking for forgiveness for such an act of wanton violence. Ahfrilhom ghax ma jafux x’inhuma jaghmlu, was the only prayer that could come to my heart’s voice.

The corridor adjacent the Chapel revealed more horrors. The very large paintings that used to hang on the wall were now on the floor. Quite appropriately they depicted scenes from the Passion of the Lord. All of them were torn in one place only. The face of Christ in each painting was torn to pieces. Was it madness or malice that drove the perpetrators of this vile act? Whoever believed that the Passion was a one off event was mistaken!

Mgr Lupi’s office left intact

All offices were topsy-turvy. But those were offices, not a chapel or a sacred painting. An electronic typewriter that had just been bought for my office was now adorning the corridor’s floor in several pieces. All offices were ransacked … but one. Mgr Lupi’s office was left intact. The joke was that that office was so topsy-turvy anyway that whoever went in must have thought that it had already been attacked.

Little by little other Curia officials arrived. A number of Court experts came in accompanied by police officers.

The PBX had been broken to pieces. But fortunately there was a direct line in the office of the Secretary of the Archbishop which was still functioning. I sat down and started phoning journalists and news agencies in several countries. A police officer stood in front of me, taking notes. A foreign journalist told me later that his agency, in its first dispatch, had not included the fact that the Curia was in front of Police Headquarters. They could not believe that shameful detail.

The odd joke

It was a long, tiring and hard day. It was broken by the odd joke, though. I remember the late Dr Paul Mallia, the Curia’s lawyer. He was a very prim and proper person. A true gentleman but a bit stiff. While walking around and over the debris he broke his silence and solemn face by saying: “Finally someone has broken this statue. It was so ugly. Some good has come out of this tragedy.” All smiled, even those who did not share his artistic judgement on the poor statue.

The Archbishop arrived in the evening. “Il-Bambin jahfrilhom” were his first words. Later in the evening he met Prime Minister Mintoff.

A few days later an English journalist recounted to me his shock when a senior government official (whose name he mentioned) told him verbatim: We attacked the Curia and they succumbed and came to negotiate.

People with little minds misunderstand the actions of wiser people who are always ready to extend the hand of friendship.

Remembering is a healing process

The group that shamed the Labour Party and shamed Malta were thrown into the dustbin of history by Alfred Sant. He courageously did what his predecessors did not have the will or capacity to do.

The country has matured a lot since then. I believe most of us can remember what happened without any rancour. Most can look at our collective past and learn from it. Most of us are mature enough to look at our past in its face – warts and all - and heal ourselves while remembering it and by remembering; while recounting it and by recounting it.

Till next time I wish you all good bye and good luck.

PS: I’ll be using this signing off line as a tribute to the great American journalist Ed Murrow who fought McCarthyism in the 1950's,