My University colleague Ray Mangion’s recent treatment in these columns of Malta’s collective memory deserves wider recognition by those who are responsible to see that nothing of what really has made Malta and its people what they are over the centuries is lost in the wash of either official or public apathy, or even (that other cancer) snobbism.

Collective memory goes much beyond museums, works of art, national orchestras and classical composition, Żfinmalta, schools of art and music, and even edifices.  It is, in its simplest terms, what is/has been said, done, remembered by the people of this country regarding its own way of life in both normal and abnormal times, and all of this too at the humblest and simplest levels of Maltese society, and over vast swathes of time and events.

A very good idea of what collective memory is can be gathered from a daily PBS radio programme presented in early afternoons by that affable presenter Gordon. The programme, so aptly named Niftakar (I remember) is heavily reliant on what listeners who phone in bother to relate to the listening public about customs, trades, events, fashions, games, beliefs, and whatever (positive, but even negative) lingers on in the minds (and hearts) of the Maltese people.

There was a time when a subset of such collective memory – then often labelled as folklore – was very popular in Malta. And praiseworthy intellectuals like Guzè Cassar Pullicino, and now in our times Charles Coleiro, have done much to see that its main elements be recorded.

Regrettably much of such recording often took the form of in-depth written studies which ended up in journals and so, regrettably, not often sought at all by the masses. By contrast, the media of radio and television come across as much more popular and sought after by the people, and when the compiler of such programmes is good, then popular following is often assured.

Hence the great responsibility for media owners to realise that they owe it to the nation to do all that is within their powers to conserve and retain such collective memory.  I say this with a heavy heart.

There is already so much that has been lost, particularly where concerns the memories, the voices and characters, what they left to this nation, from personalities who left much and gave much to this nation. I will quote one simple example.

So collective memory continuously needs to be cared for and nurtured. Each and every one of us has a duty to do it

Long years ago, when the father of what is today’s modern banking in Malta, the late Louis Galea (1913-2005), was still alive but ageing, I had approached a PBS journalist (still alive and active in today’s PBS newsroom) with an invitation that we go and record an interview with him.

This was about the man who took banking out of Valletta and into the rest of the country, plus ever so much more for both the profession and the Maltese economy. And the objective was that on record would remain details of how banking was done and developed in this country from early years.

The answer I got was: “We are too busy for this type of work, and we don’t have the resources.” And so with him have died many memories, and facts, and opinions, about the realities of how money and finance in this country were done in the 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, and even later.

So collective memory continuously needs to be cared for and nurtured. Each and every one of us has a duty to do it. Who knows how much exists in our homes, in old furniture, old bags or files with documents, old photos, and what not.

When Maltese individuals unearth into living light of day such stuff, and are wise enough to realise its worth and bring it out into the open, they deserve our praise and admiration.

Such, for example, was the recent case of my old colleague Joe Pace Ross, who, long years after his father’s death, found the time to delve deeply into the contents of an old case of writings (most of them poems) by his late father Manwel Pace.

The outcome is a wonderful book of poems – Tliet Ġawhriet – which collectively, even when read along with what Oliver Friggieri and Paul Heywood write in clever forewords, really raises the bar in terms of so many values, besides sheer literary prowess.

There is, yes, national pride, deep religious sentiment, love for the simplest and humblest of workers, and great humility (he rarely signed his poems and what were published were only under nom de plume) in Manwel Pace’s beautiful verses.

But there is also, and the wonderful presentation of this book, thanks to APS Bank, brings this out, so much national history.

When one thinks in depth about the pictures and copies of old documents in the centre part of this book one may even walk away with certain ideas on, for example, of how perhaps politics had more of cross-party affinity and warmth for the ideals of the simple people in past times.

So books like this, programmes like Gordon’s on PBS, interviews with our old-timers, care and attention before simply throwing away any stuff, this and much more, are ingredients of the effortsthat the country and its leaders need to nurture to ensure that our collective memory – what makes us what we both have been and are today – is given the respect that it deserves.

John Consiglio teaches economics at the University of Malta.