I’ve been following the controversy over the monti stalls with a sort of detached interest, mainly because I neither particularly like them, nor do I feel so enraged by them that their existence is like some direct personal insult to my very being.

It’s curious what gets people’s goat, while other, arguably more crucial issues, hardly register on their radar.

I think it’s because the stalls (and their location) are something which people feel they still have some measure of possible control over, whereas other mammoth (and ugly) building structures which are such an eyesore are there to stay. Maybe it’s because the sense of helplessness in the face of Big Business (developers, contractors, and the Sandro Chetcutis of this world) is so overwhelming that these stalls have come to personify everything which many people hate about the crass commercialization of the island.  The flea market with its display of thong underwear as hawkers ply their trade in loud, earthy voices is a visual they can focus on, so all their anger is being directed at that.

Would it have helped if the stalls were made of say, wood? Would it help if the goods for sale were a bit more upmarket? Or is it simply the very concept of any kind of flea market anywhere near the new Parliamentary building which has made people froth at the mouth?  The obvious question then lies, where should the monti actually go? And why is the monti the focus of so much ire and not those other very permanent kiosks selling imqaret, pastries and bread at what we used to call Bieb il-Belt?

I’ve read some rather far-fetched assumptions being made about this whole issue, one of the them being that the Labour party agreed to give the hawkers such a prime position deliberately in order to spite the Renzo Piano oeuvre because it was commissioned by a PN government.  No matter which way I look at it, this kind of cutting your nose to spite your face simply does not make sense. You will all have noticed by now that Muscat likes to remain popular with “the people” and he is crafty enough to keep his ear to the ground when an issue threatens to topple him from the popularity stakes, particularly when it comes to the middle class voters he worked so hard to woo.  Hence (I suspect) his declaration that he does not like the design of the stalls either.

Love it? Hate it? Or couldn’t care less?

Many people have also made this about the inherent aesthetic differences which are defined by social class. So those who shrug and say, they are not that really bothered by the white canvas/aluminum structure with the hotly debated eight pointed cross used as a kind of leif motif, are labelled as having no sense of style and are sneered at with middle class contempt,  while those who are gnashing their teeth at the stalls have automatically designated themselves as the ultimate arbitrators of “good taste”.  It has also inevitably become about social class/political allegiance because, you know, everything that has to do with Labour is, by definition, completely lacking in sophistication. Whereas only the PN knows how to do things with panache – I know this is true because all their latest activities at Stamperija and other fundraisers have been teeming with high-brow culture.  And yeah, that’s sarcasm.

What I really find interesting about all this though, in a kind of social observer kind of way, is that flea markets in their natural, raw state, stripped of any attempt at sterile uniformity, are always thronging with people of all social classes. Have you ever been to the Birgu, B’Kara, Mosta or the Valletta markets?  Don’t lie, I know you have. So have I. And so what? I defy anyone to say they don’t like a good bargain if they can get one. And it’s not just about the prices either. It’s the atmosphere. There is such a sense of community there built over long years among a sector of society which competes with friendly banter, as they set up their stalls in the chill of the morning air.

It is the same kind of community I sense when I pass by a village festa or a crowd of football supporters celebrating a win, or a group of men nursing a hot cup of tea in a long glass outside their local cafe’, as they gossip and eye the women passing by.

Whether it appeals to us or is relevant to our own lifestyle is not the issue, the fact is that it is these pockets of community spirit which are the essence of any nation. So I guess what we really need to decide is whether we want the monti to thrive (warts and all) or whether it will be killed off as the famous Valletta suq was when it was disastrously moved to Beltissebh.

Because if the idea is to breathe life into Valletta then it has to be allowed to retain its colourful characteristics, and not have the soul sucked out of it.