Preamble: Change
‘Change’ is a curious word. It is simultaneously positive and negative. It is a concept to be desired yet also secretly feared. To appear to be against ‘change’ risks the stigma of being ‘out of step with the times’, and yet to be too enthusiastic about it raises suspicions of anarchy.
But change is not only inevitable: it is essential. Without it we’d be doomed as a species, and yet with it, it seems just as likely that we are doomed. The changes brought about by our species are innumerable, and the resulting consequences are not always positive.
The Politics of Change
I have already outlined the need for a Second Republic elsewhere on this blog. So far, it has been nothing more than an aspiration: an ideal to strive for. Yet, as time goes by the need for such a Second Republic becomes even more pressing. I hope that this will be a series of more in-depth discussions on the nature of that Second Republic. I am also very much aware that a re-writing of the constitution represents a momentous change, so first and foremost we need to understand that ‘change’ in the context of Maltese politics.
2013 was meant to be a time of change. Following 25 years of Nationalist government, dominated by a strange mixture of economic neo-liberalism and social conservatism, the Labour party achieved a historic victory that promised a new order. It promised change. In the hands of progressives like Muscat, was the weapon with which to shape a new world. On the other hand, conservatives see change as all that is wrong with the current situation, yearning instead for a nostalgic reading of the past before ‘change’ happened.
‘Change’ is also the slogan chosen by the Nationalist party who, after a seven-year slumber, seems to have realised that it needs to do something – whatever it is. So as part of a rebranding exercise they have come up with the exciting slogan ‘Be the change’ (Kun il-bidla). How original. Excuse the cynicism, but we have already had that nauseating political mantra for decades now, and it has run us into the ground.
The irrelevance of isolated change
The fundamental question is this: ‘Is change what is really needed?’
The short answer is ‘no’. The longer answer is ‘not on its own.’ Change on its own has no value. Being a neutral concept that can carry both positive and negative connotations, change is simply a means to an end. I could decide to get off my chair, and reduce it to splinters in a fit of rage. There is no denying that the situation would have ‘changed’ – but certainly not for the better. I could buy a newer and potentially better chair – that would also entail ‘change.’
I could carry on the metaphor but the fundamental point remains: anything can be labelled as ‘change’, even a lack of action (the ‘change’ being a state of inaction that in itself is different to actually doing something). For whatever I do to that chair, ‘change’ is seen as an agent by which to alter an object or a situation, not improve myself or my environment. Therefore, change for its own sake is useless.
And this is exactly where we are politically in Malta. We have politicians who are nothing more than peddlers of ‘change’, striving to implement changes that change nothing. They are comfortable in a system that has served them well for decades, and are unwilling to change it, offering instead a cosmetic ‘change’ – a facade to hide the rot that has beset our system.
The more things change…
True, there have been some very important changes over the past 50 years. We’re members of the European Union, with a new currency and a new set of guiding principles. We have more roads, more cars, more traffic, and less mobility. We are better connected to the outside world, though still collectively insular. We are also more numerous, even though our territory has not gotten any bigger. But there are also several key issues that have not changed, rendering the above changes ineffective or even harmful. Here is a partial list to consider:
- Our electoral system is still the same as it was 50 years ago, with an emphasis on political egos and political fiefdoms. We do not vote for ideologies or manifestos, but for individual candidates.
- Our political parties are still entangled in business affairs, with our politicians able to legally continue their non-political careers, and servicing sectors they should be regulating impartially.
- Our education system is still burdened by information cramming rather than nurturing ideas.
- Our foreign policy and economy still look nostalgically towards an ever more distant and non-European Britain. Remember that when the UK put Malta on the red list, the tourism sector went into panic mode.
- Our judicial systems are a hotch-potch of conflicting systems, unequal punishments, and spectacular bureaucracy.
- Our approach to fundamental human rights is still burdened by tokenism and political opportunism, not by a sense of moral justice.
- Our urban landscapes are dominated by the needs of developers and contractors, not by the well-being of citizens.
- Our agricultural policy is still that of relegating it to a minor industry that produces limited capital and belongs to a lower class of citizen.
- Our energy policy still relies heavily on fossil fuels and very little renewable energy.
- Our transportation policy has been unchanged since the Second World War – cars, cars, and more cars. Alternative transportation amounts only to half-hearted gestures that are not governed by a general national policy but political expediency.
- Our economic model is still based on an outdated Tatcherite-Reagan capitalist model that demands growth at all costs – a disastrous approach in a small island nation.
- We have no plans in place to deal with natural disasters, despite increasing signs of climate disruption due to climate change.
One would argue that anyone unfamiliar with Malta would think we live in a country on the brink of societal collapse, and that despite this outlook, no such collapse has actually happened. That would, however, miss the point. It embraces a limited view of change as being something cataclysmic. In our collective imagination, change has always been the result of sudden catastrophic events. Events like the fall of Rome in 476 A.D. to the French Revolution in 1789 are seen as watershed moments when the world moved from one state of affairs to another overnight. But that view is fallacious. Change happens slowly, very slowly. True, the events mentioned here were momentous, but they did not happen suddenly and their effects were not always immediate or even long-lasting. By the time we acknowledge that change, it might be too late.
The politics of well-being
It is not ‘change’ that we should examine, but other concepts such as ‘growth’, ‘progress’, and ‘reform’. Each of these words deserves an essay in its own right. Each of these implies change, but they also imply something more. They embrace a different approach to the way we view ourselves as being not victims of circumstance but agents of concrete action.
But even words such as ‘growth’ put us on our guard. Isn’t ‘growth’ the ultimate aim of capitalism? Growth at all costs: a constant increase in capital, regardless of demand or available resources. And the cost we’re paying for it is pretty high, with the world on the brink of climate collapse, and with global political tensions higher than ever. What we have created is amoral capitalism that seeks growth for its own sake and not to fulfil any tangible need. Where a need is not present, it is created artificially to justify the system.
Capitalism is doomed to go the way of other failed systems, such as absolute monarchy and feudalism. It will not disappear overnight, just as feudalism lingered on for centuries, and just as communism still persists in various bastardised forms. The problem with capitalism is that unlike other economic systems, it risks cataclysmic environmental changes that will have severe repercussions on the lives of billions. It is why many thinkers are moving away from the economics of capital, towards the economics of well-being. What matters is not what you own but how you live.
The greatest change that needs to happen is for us to reconnect with nature and each other. Any political system that glorifies the individual and personal possessions has no place in the 21st century. It is with this in mind that we must approach the idea of a Second Republic – not a Republic brought about by the electoral promises and political opportunism of those who profit from the status quo, but one born out of a common desire to be better.
MużiKartI 