So this newspaper asks its online readers whether politics should be taught in schools, and two-thirds give a flat no. Sex education is fine, apparently, but politics would be too dirty. Sixteen-year-olds can vote but they should not deliberate the preferences in school.
This is not an odd preference for such a partisan country. The French say we mock the things we love. The Old Testament and Freud give colourfully dramatic reasons for why we should feel compelled to engage in behaviour we’d want our sons and daughters to steer clear from.
And besides, why would it occur to us to teach a subject in school when the national university doesn’t offer a first degree in political science? (You can of course accumulate a number of courses, from political anthropology to comparative politics and political theory, across a range of disciplines.)
Nor is Malta unique. Disenchantment with politics is a feature of stable democracies. Stability has a way of leading to long-term disengagement, or to parochial navel-gazing, until there are sudden irruptions like Brexit or Donald Trump.
But until then there is disillusionment, fed by three factors. First, global challenges and risk make national politicians seem ineffective. They need to take swift action to face modern crises but the effects are felt far more incrementally. So even the well-meaning politicians appear to be hollow.
Moreover, they appear to be shabby. In an interdependent world, democracies wax eloquently on values. But they need to cooperate with autocracies. The shabbiness scales down: hands get dirty with dealing with regional and parish autocrats, too.
Finally, the political class is becoming professionalised. We might talk about new people entering politics – more women, more minorities. But in fact many of these people are increasingly drawn from a pool of activists who have been interested in politics since their student days.
It’s said that David Cameron and Boris Johnson were the only two boys of their generation at Eton to harbour the ambition of becoming Prime Minister. In the US, Pete Buttigieg may be only 37 but he was mayor at 29. And some of the newest candidates in our own MEP elections actually have a long track record in partisan activity.
There’s nothing inherently wrong in all this but it does mean that professional politicians come across as hacks, who do not quite represent the full diversity and free-thinking of society. The gap between us and them is felt to be wider than ever, even though the educational gap is narrowing. They claim to represent us but we do not see ourselves in them.
And so we tune out of politics and feeling appalled at the idea of forcing schoolchildren to tune in.
The result is a vicious circle of complaint. We do not participate in politics, and perhaps even abstain from voting, because we do not think ‘they’ deserve our participation. But we also want to exercise our self-righteousness with our fellow voters. When the vote doesn’t go our way, we talk darkly about the country getting the politics it deserves, given its cultural pathologies.
I repeat: this is a pattern of disenchantment and complaint to be found across Western democracies. It can be heard in talk about the swamp and establishment in Washington, and the deplorables with their guns and Bibles in the Deep South.
In Westminster not being fit for purpose and Leavers not knowing what they were doing. And of course in Malta, with its talk of traitors and bogans.
My own view is as old as Aristotle. Politics is part of what it takes to be a skilled human being. What ethics is in personal life, politics is in public life – making intelligent choices under constraint; making compromises but not rotten compromises; seeking consensus but not by abusing power or at the expense of justice.
What ethics is in personal life, politics is in public life – making intelligent choices under constraint
The late Washington Post syndicated columnist, Charles Krauthammer, had a broad range of interests – from chess and baseball to psychology, science, medical ethics and music. His columns could be witty and in person he could out-quip even trained humorists. (He was also a small-government conservative and a foreign-policy hawk; but no one’s perfect.)
A few years before he died he wanted to compile an anthology of his favourite columns, published over 30 years, which would exclude his political columns. He found he couldn’t exclude politics.
In fact, his political columns ended up dominating the book, which he called Things That Matter. As he said, everything that matters depends on politics. It creates the space in which everything else can flourish and converse: culture, science, industry, trade and even religion.
Markets cannot correct themselves; they need governments. Companies cannot raise taxes and so cannot build public infrastructure. The exploration of galaxies and halting climate change need visionary politics.
The issue, then, should not be whether we teach politics at school but how we teach it. It should answer four questions.
First, what kind of politics do we have and what alternatives are there?
The world embraces Libya, Sweden, Dubai, Singapore and everything in between. Is it true that democracies are more robust in facing crises when compared with authoritarian states? Are there any states where economic well-being thrives but so does abuse of power?
Second, how do things actually work? Scanning social media, I’ve lost count of the displays of fantasy masquerading as cool calculation. Is it true that economic catastrophe would enable a fresh democratic start? Or does the history shows it simply leads to deeper authoritarianism?
What are the consequences of splitting a political party? How do some political movements succeed while others fail?
Third, what other points of view are there? Democracy isn’t just about speaking your mind. It’s about listening closely to other minds. It is about interpreting the experience of others and seeing how their private troubles might have public causes.
Finally, what do you think is good for us? What’s as bad asit gets?
These are not dirty questions. Nor are they partisan. Discussing them would teach our children, gradually, to think of themselves as bearers of rights, disposed by nature to kindness and cooperation, and vulnerable to organised violence.
It would teach them to read power, so as to use it creatively and not fall under its thrall.
If we don’t think this is necessary, it only goes to show just how much complacency has made us reckless.
ranierfsadni@europe.com
This is a Times of Malta print opinion piece