Last week’s column raised the hackles of the anthropomorphisers (look it up) because I dared to point out that animals, for all that they are lovable and deserve protection and affection, are not equal to humans and they do not have the same rights.
I was attacked, happily only verbally (though I wouldn’t exclude anything had the opportunity arisen), because I did not toe the line and weep and rend my clothes, to say nothing of tearing my hair (not a possibility, but you get my drift) because the oaf who disposed of the dog now called Star in such a brutal way was not hung, drawn and quartered.
I even had to cross-over this column with my blog to try to explain what I was on about, though, of course, this had no effect whatsoever on those who chose to take in only what they think they read, rather than what I actually wrote.
To be clear: I do not advocate going around beating puppies with a club, I do not think animals should be tortured, for the fun of it or otherwise, and I do not condone cruelty to any living thing.
On the other hand, I do not go all misty-eyed at the thought of an animal dying, though I freely admit that the poignant pictures of the dog Star were very moving.
I’m writing this after a rather splendidly relaxing mid-week holiday, known to one and all in this country as L-Imnarja, also the feast of St Peter and St Paul, during which we had a bouncy boat ride out of Xlendi and a long and excellent lunch at Ta’ Karolina.
L-Imnarja of some 29 or so years ago was not so relaxing.
After winning the popular vote but remaining in opposition, Eddie Fenech Adami had suggested that, as far as he was concerned, it was time that Dom Mintoff’s high-handedness (there’s a euphemism) in defying the popular vote was contraried and he (Dr Fenech Adami) was going to take a holiday on the 29th, despite Mr Mintoff having removed it from the list of public holidays. It was just a gesture but what an effect it had.
In 1981, the majority of Maltese had voted in favour of the Nationalist Party but, due to the way elections were conducted in those days, Mr Mintoff’s Labour Party had gained enough seats to govern, in clear defiance of the wishes of the majority of the electorate. This had echoes later down the years when Alfred Sant, who seems now to have come over all democratic, had declared that the No vote had prevailed in the EU referendum, a quixotic notion that had been roundly thrashed in the referendum itself and was to be thrashed, not to say trashed, in the election that soon followed.
Yes, I know, isn’t it ironic that there are elements in the Nationalist Party that are apparently following in the footsteps of Mr Mintoff and Dr Sant, after having cravenly passed the buck to the electorate on the divorce question?
One wonders how they can reconcile voting no when the question is finally put in the House with their collective political past, when Dr Fenech Adami (himself apparently comfortable with MPs voting no) had put himself squarely on the line when he stood up to Mr Mintoff’s defiance of the electorate and its wishes.
Yes, there are differences. Divorce can be defined as a matter of conscience (though why this is so remains obscure, divorce already being acceptable in this country provided it is foreign-sourced) while clinging desperately to power or denying the electorate’s socio-political aspirations are merely symptoms of megalomania and pretended omniscience but, in broad-brush terms, there’s not that much of a difference, is there?
In truth, it’s not important, when a free vote is involved and it’s not a government Bill, who votes how as long as the law passes and the electorate is respected. In normal circumstances, no one would know, or even care, which MP voted and how s/he voted, because once a law is passed and His Excellency signs off on it, that’s the end of the story.
In fact, it’s entirely possible that the Bill could be passed without even a division, though I have no doubt that the opportunists and franchi tiratori (dunno if that’s the correct spelling) will seize the opportunity to embarrass the Prime Minister, which seems to have become the obsession of a certain type of MP who chooses to assuage his personal disappointment at lack of elevation by sniping at the Prime Minister.
Loyalty and dignity, anyone? I don’t think so.
Leaving these sad individuals aside, I’ll end on a positive note.
Pierre J. Mejlak has come out with another excellent collection of short stories, Dak Li L-Lejl Iħallik Tgħid (Things You Say At Night, roughly translated) and you have to read them. If you don’t read Maltese, hard luck, though if you don’t read Maltese even if you are Maltese, shame on you, once, twice and a thousand times, that latter number being the number of fleas that should infest your head.
The book was launched in the presence of a goodly crowd at that venue of choice for excellent events, Palazzo Falson in Mdina (it’s a great museum too) and a scintillating group of stratospherically erudite mega-celebrities was empanelled by Chris Gruppetta of Merlin to ensure that the book was given the best possible send off.
And, yes, I was one of them, which is why I was being mildly ironic. You do irony, don’t you? It’s like humour or self-deprecation, a device used to put across a thought or two, much in the manner which so irritates people about this column.
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