Friday 29 March 2024

Blast from the past

All this talk of the last few weeks about Joseph Muscat supposedly trying to influence the independent media has reminded me of July 2007. That was the month when I was asked to be one of the journalists who would be accompanying Prime Minister Gonzi on an official tour of Australia.When I got back I sat down and wrote the following article, which I never passed on for publication. Luckily I had saved it, so I fished it out and am publishing it here.

 What was the point? (written 15 August 2007)

Having just returned from covering the Prime Minister’s 12-day visit to Australia, I continue to be puzzled by one question: what was really the point of this visit?

Ostensibly, as we were told over and over again, it was to meet the substantial Maltese-Australian community in order to “strengthen ties” – which, from what I observed, was simply political doublespeak for endless photo opportunities. (The extension of Maltese citizenship to second and third generations could have simply been announced from Malta.)

In fact, there were many moments when our ten person media entourage seemed embarrassingly OTT – every handshake, whether it was with an elderly Maltese nun or Prime Minister John Howard, was treated with the same importance, camera bulbs flashing and cameras rolling for all the world as if some earth shattering announcement had just been made.

The two people representing Where’s Everybody were filming anything that moved, and probably have enough footage to do a 26-part series. Maybe they can call it Dejjem Tieghek, Gonzi.

The height of ridiculousness was surely reached at the zoo, when a few of us journalists got separated from the Maltese delegation and spent a good 15 minutes trying to find the rest amidst a jungle maze of baboons, koala beers and kangaroos. (“Have you seen the Maltese Prime Minister?” we asked a zookeeper. “I think he is near the monkeys,” was the reply). As I don’t need much encouragement to see the absurdity of a situation, I was seized by a fit of the giggles.

There were other incongruous episodes, such as when we visited old people’s homes. On the one side you had these frail men and women lined up in their wheelchairs eager to hear what Dr Gonzi had to say, and on the other, the three burly security men who were assigned to accompany us throughout the visit. Do they really think the Prime Minister is going to be attacked by an old lady walking with a Zimmer frame, I wondered.

During each function we attended (which were so numerous and mind-numbingly repetitive that by the end they all just merged into one big blur) I just could not shake the nagging question: why are we really here?  What I especially couldn’t understand was why Dr Gonzi agreed to a timetable of back-to-back events which even at a glance was clearly going to exhaust him. Would, say, former Prime Minister (now President) Eddie Fenech Adami have given his approval when presented with such a gruelling schedule? Heck, if you’re the top honcho don’t you have the right to put your foot down and say ‘no way, I’m not going to do all that’?

[When the Greek Prime Minister visited Australia recently to meet Greek migrants (the largest ethnic community), large rallies were held and thousands flocked to see him. It saved him a lot of running around and it made Australia’s evening news.]

Of course, that the Maltese communities were genuinely happy to meet the affable PM is undeniable. It is true that partisan politics are not in evidence; Nationalist and Labour sympathizers alike flocked to these functions.

But then, as someone dryly pointed out to me, “Here they even get excited when “id-Dulli” (Joe Farrugia) comes over.”  (I’m told he and his wife Veronica have come five times and have always performed to sold-out audiences).

So it seems they are just happy to see anyone who is Maltese, be it an entertainer or a Prime Minister, which says a lot about how uneventful the lives of this sector of the Maltese community is.  Living in the humdrum quiet of Australia’s suburbs, there is not much for them to get all worked up about. But a dinner dance with Dr Gonzi in attendance? Wow. The frisson of anticipation was palpable.

And this brings me to another point.  By the time we had visited Perth, Adelaideand (especially) Melbourne, it became quite clear that the programme was centred around the older, less sophisticated generation which sticks together like glue. From what I was told, this is very much the routine when a Maltese politician comes to visit, primarily because the endless number of associations are well-organised, easy to contact, and guaranteed to whip up a captive audience at a moment’s notice. Not only does this make these official visits boringly predictable, it is also painting a highly unflattering picture of Maltese-Australians. The country bumpkin stereotype which is conjured up by the phrase ‘Il-Maltin ta’ l-Awstralja’ is truly alive and kicking.

As for the rags-to-riches stories of men such as Billy Cassar and Omar Muscat, the fact that they are Maltese is incidental – what sets them apart is their business savvy and sheer grinta.

Clinging stubbornly to a Malta which no longer exists, there are Maltese-Australians who still live in a glass bubble, as if captured in time. They are also quite territorial and often overly touchy to imagined slights. God help you if you get someone’s name wrong, or confuse one association with the other.

Personally, these clubs and associations brought back some of my own childhood memories. My family migrated to Los Angeles where the Maltese population is quite small, and even there a Maltese-American club existed which organised annual picnics and other activities. However, my Dad instinctively steered away from this club and we only attended their functions rarely. “If you stick too much to other Maltese people here you will never integrate and move on,” was his maxim. And he was right; the memory I have of those picnics were of people who still spoke in broken English and who stuck out like sore thumbs in American society. This does not mean my father (who left Malta on a ship at the age of 17) ever forgot his roots or his mother tongue, and ironically enough, it was he who yearned to come back to his homeland as he got older, which we eventually did.

Meanwhile during this trip, I kept asking where all the ‘new’ Maltese-Australian migrants were. Where were all the young people who are not stuck in the past, who are cosmopolitan enough to still love Malta dearly but do not insist on recreating it in a time capsule? And this is where the penny dropped: the numbers emigrating these days are far less than in the past: only 45 came to settle here permanently between July – December 2006, while 76 are here on a working visa.

They don’t have much in common with the migrants who have been here for 50 years, and from what I was told by those who moved here just a few years ago, it’s their family and friends they are aching to see again, and not politicians.

So the old and trusted faithful are trotted out, ensuring lots of cheering, flag waving and people gushing and falling all over themselves to meet the Maltese Prime Minister.   Still straddled uneasily between two cultures (not quite Maltese, but not quite Australian) the longer they live here the more they crave to recapture that elusive ‘something’ which gives them their identity.

***

As for the point of this visit, well it has ensured that Dr Lawrence Gonzi has been splashed all over the papers and TV stations for a couple of weeks in a well-timed PR exercise.

Whether that will whitewash any of the daily negative publicity surrounding his rapidly unravelling administration, has yet to be seen.

 

 

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