Scottish comedian Billy Connolly has often urged his audiences not to vote for politicians because, he says, it only encourages them. Though best known for provoking laughter, whenever he has uttered this particular line it is with a grit that is intended to provoke thought.

Because this statement begs the question: encourages them to do what? Stupid things? Perhaps. Pursue worthwhile objectives? Maybe. But more than anything, the very act of voting – and politicians needing those votes – encourages them to abandon rational thought and principles in the unrelenting pursuit of office, which is the single biggest defect of the democratic process.

There are, of course, notable exceptions, as well as occasions when the two objectives happily coincide. And when we look back at history, there is no doubt it is those politicians who stood by their principles – when selling out may have been the easier option – that we most respect. But our memories are short and our desire for quick-fix gratification is today more intense than ever.

When the Central Bank governor, Michael Bonello, called for a closer alignment of the country’s priorities with the economy’s strategic objectives – which included a proposal to trim stipend support to ensure it only goes to those who really need it – he should have been universally applauded.

There was a time when British students benefitted from free tertiary education plus a grant to help them meet their living expenses, particularly since many of them are forced to move away from home to pursue their university education. It is more than 20 years since grants were replaced by loans, and UK undergraduates are now facing the reality – which has sparked widespread protest – of being charged steep fees for their courses too.

In Malta, where the large majority of students live in the comfort of their parents’ homes, rather than in sub-standard and draughty accommodation where they have to pay to feed themselves and deal with heating bills to keep warm on freezing winter nights, it makes eminent sense to means-test stipends.

No one is advocating, at this stage at least, the elimination of free university tuition – though for how long can we insulate ourselves from the realities of today’s harsher world? – but the governor’s point was simply that in the climate we live in stipends should no longer be available to families who can afford to do without them.

Enter the politicians. Finance Minister Tonio Fenech knocked the proposal on the head immediately, saying the “government’s position is completely different” to that of the governor. This was driven more by voter fear than anything else. But it was probably also motivated by another factor: the predictable reaction of the opposition.

Rather than engaging the issue, Joseph Muscat pointed to the inappropriate nature of the governor’s remarks, which were more generally about public spending, by having a dig at his €160,000 salary. This was shallow – as we pay people for their skills not for their charity – and hypocritical, as the opposition leader would have shown no such benevolence were he still a high-earning MEP.

But above all, it reveals a fear or inability to display fibre and substance. Rather than come up with substantive proposals to make the country a better place, Dr Muscat yet again chooses to play to the gallery – rather like Mr Connolly. Except that on this evidence, no one will be laughing if and when he is faced with the tough decisions himself.