What follows is not about the subject, if he could ever be called that. Certainly it was right of the government to choose to commemorate Dom Mintoff on Castille Square. The man defined a good part of 20th-century politics in Malta, and he was also a Prime Minister, and all prime ministers are commemorated in that place. The problem is in the value, or lack of it, of the artwork.

Eddie Fenech Adami and Karmenu Mifsud Bonnici are both 84. Let’s assume they live to be 100, which we cannot but wish them. That would mean that, in 16 years’ time, there will be two more life-size figures on Castille Square.

Together with the flame, the knot, Manwel Dimech, and the monuments to three prime ministers that are already in place, that will make it eight. One more figure than are on the Trevi Fountain, in other words, and I’m counting the sea horses as well as the two figures in the niches behind the fountain proper. Food for thought that’s hard to digest, given that baroque tends to get busy and that the Trevi is the biggest baroque fountain in Rome.

There are three reasons why my concern is not unfounded. First, it will be right in 2034, as it is now, that no prime minister be left out: there can be no doubt that Fenech Adami and Mifsud Bonnici will get their monuments on Castille Square.

Second, 16 years is not too far into the future. It is, therefore, not unrealistic to think ahead about what Castille Square and other public spaces will look like then. In any case the place is hardly empty as is, which really means we’re talking about an extended present.

Third, it’s reasonable to assume that none of the stuff there is now will be moved any time soon. The knot is too heavy, the flame too new, to be moved. As for the political figures, changing the location of anything to do with the two main parties tends to be very tricky. Once something’s in place, it tends to stay put.

Take the Freedom monument in Vittoriosa. I have never met anyone, no matter how viciously Labourite, who said the spot was wisely chosen. Whether or not the monument works is a matter of opinion. I happen to like it, but only because I have a feeling it will be the last surviving patch of countryside in Malta. Lizards live happily there, and a couple of years ago I even found a warbler’s nest that was well stocked with all manner of caterpillars.

Ecological value aside, the thing’s frankly risible and widely thought to be so. And yet, I’d be surprised if a politician, Nationalist or Labourite, proposed it should be dismantled or moved. There’s a tacit agreement between the two parties not to touch each other’s sacred grounds. They understand that to do so would be to question the sacrality of the duopoly itself, which wouldn’t help them.

Standards for public commemorative monuments have increasingly come to resemble those used by festa artisti

The point is that, the way things are going, Castille Square will soon be a kind of overcrowded tableau that tells the story of contemporary Maltese politics, more specifically of the bipartisan stranglehold that chokes any sense of proportion and urban design. In a few years’ time, the place will be as laughable as Vittoriosa but without the ecosystem.

It’s probably worth reflecting what exactly it is that we expect of this sort of commemorative monument. Do we, for one, expect it to be art? I’m not so sure, unless we allow for the fact that in Malta the word is often used loosely to refer to anything that involves craftsmanship. (The people who churn out formulaic festa statues and decorations are often called artisti, for example.)

Compare the Mintoff to the Paul Boffa monument. The latter obviously set out to be commemorative, but also – and successfully, I think – art. I’m not even sure Noel Galea Bason had art in mind when he made the Mintoff monument. I rather think he intentionally limited himself to craftsmanship to produce a simple likeness.

Nor do I necessarily blame him. Recent examples suggest that, at least as far as monuments that commemorate people are concerned, all considerations of art have been put aside in favour of a standard of simple likeness. It’s evident in the Borg Olivier, De Marco, Tabone, de Valette and Mintoff I (the Cospicua one) monuments. In all of these, the only standard seems to be ‘kemm ġie jixbħu’ (resemblance).

Now I know that likeness and art are not opposed. Innocent X is said to have exclaimed ‘è troppo vero’ (‘it’s too real’) when he first saw the portrait by Velasquez, and that’s not a good example of bad art. Still, it is generally accepted that likeness alone is not art.

There may not have been a conscious decision at any point, but it’s reasonable to say that the standards for public commemorative monuments have increasingly come to resemble those used by festa artisti. Not necessarily a bad thing – I’m just saying.

There’s another thing. We’ve said it all about the horror vacui syndrome and all that, but even so, places like Castille Square are getting insufferably cluttered. Art or no art, it may be worth discussing some kind of commemorative design (a memory wall or some such) that can accommodate the additive mortality of former prime ministers, without the effect of a Neapolitan crib.

That, or places like Castille Square, will become monuments not of political greatness, but rather incompetence.

mafalzon@hotmail.com