What a right royal mess the Nationalist Party is in. Not even in Labour’s wettest dreams was there envisaged such a structural and ideological meltdown. Its electoral process has been more botched than a Paqpaqli għall-Istrina racing track.
The party could not even manage to get its act together to unite around the deputy leadership context, the political choreography of which has been about as elegant as an elephant ballet on stilts. The frenetic attempts to project party unity are more superficial than an Arani Issa makeover. On the other hand, any attempts to replace Adrian Delia risk being perceived as nothing short of a palace coup that would fly in the face of the tesserati’s democratic vote.
Talk about a lose-lose situation; the PN is up the creek without a paddle, a leaky canoe, no change of clothes and in imminent danger of being overturned by a red or orange hippo.
But apart from this administrative quagmire, the more fundamental problem with the Nationalist Party today is the morphing of its agenda. Delia’s emerging ‘New Way’ seems to be economically neo-liberal but socially neo-conservative. It is in generally tacit agreement with government’s mode of wealth creation – nothing like the concerns expressed by the Church’s new and energetic Peace and Justice Commission.
But it is reverting to an anachronistic Religio et Patria identity. This is completely out of synch with how Malta’s demographic is changing and how our duopolistic, winner-takes-all general elections work. A PN that loses its grip on the political centre by failing to update the policy implications of its core values to the realities of 21st century Malta is simply unelectable. It is left with an ageing rump of conservatives and nostalgics. It will lose its third seat in the European Parliament.
And that’s without the repercussions of retaining a leader who is manifestly unfit for purpose.
He should know better
Six weeks ago, Delia was implored to expunge any hint of doubt on his personal and political integrity. In the finest traditions of his secret mentor, Delia completely ignored these pleas coming from his own party and from civil society, and evidently calculated that he could muscle his way into Parliament and silence his objectors on the crest of his ‘Avukat ta’ Klassi’ fan wave.
Then came the Daphne earthquake, and we all saw what Delia’s mettle is really made of. You can say many things about Joseph Muscat (and I have), but at least he had the political nous to project his egocentric loathing of the ‘biċċa blogger’ as disarming honesty, so as to provide a measure of inverse credibility to his condemnations and alternative-universe narrative of the state of the State.
The frenetic attempts to project party unity are more superficial than an Arani Issa makeover
But Delia? He completely lost the plot, then lost the allegiance of half his parliamentary group, then lost control of the narrative when the Prime Minster pointed his finger at Delia and challenged him to open an investigation into the allegations he has been ignoring for months.
Finally he lost face and stature when he was forced to apologise for his erstwhile hostility to Daphne, too little too late. Presumably all these lost items can be found in the same black hole where he lost his memory of the alleged money-laundering bank account.
Where does all this leave people like me, 21st century Christian Democrats who believe in the rule of law and the personal and professional integrity of our political leaders? And who are disgusted by Muscat but also repulsed by Delia and alienated by the PN’s neo-traditionalist agenda. How shall we use our vote in the next local council and European Parliament elections?
I don’t yet know. But in the meantime, Delia has earned the ultimate Spiteri accolade – his very own poem. Why, you might ask, does Adrian Delia earn a poem but not Joseph Muscat? Why not hold them to the same standard?
Well, at this point I cannot expect much better from Muscat, but to paraphrase the immortal words of Treebeard the Ent (brush up on your Lord of the Rings), a PN leader should know better.
Ex Astris ad Pulvis
(With sincere apologies to W.H. Davies)
What is this life if, full of care,
You have no time to sit
And think of ways you can declare
Delia is a git?
Oh, there’s no doubt that he is full
Of charm and endless wit
But what he claims from dawn till dusk
Is simply full of sh*t.
He said his seat was all sown up;
’Twas only his first lie.
He said ‘no whip’ for conscience votes;
It’s all pie in the sky.
He says he’s Daphne’s greatest fan;
What whopper won’t he try?
But his heart bleeds for prostitutes…
Let sleeping doggies lie.
As he displays his budgie
On Sundays after Mass
You really have to wonder:
How has it come to pass
That Eddie’s glorious party
Is now led by this ass?