‘The house that Eddie built and Muscat refurbished’

Every democracy worth its salt needs public intellectuals capable of analysing history as it unfolds, without the benefit of hindsight, relying on their ability to discern patterns and structures in the actions of political actors to make sense of current events.

However, publishing a collection of articles written in the immediacy of the present, which has already passed by the time of compilation, carries a risk – especially when addressing one of Malta’s most divisive periods. Yet, when read with the benefit of hindsight, John Baldacchino’s writings offer invaluable insights into the historical forces lurking beneath the surface of events.

Secular Reflections on a Nation’s Anomaly, based on articles published in The Times of Malta and MaltaToday from 2013 to 2020, is an emotional rollercoaster for those who lived through these years of hope, disappointment, and revulsion – three strong emotions making a lucid dissection challenging. Baldacchino contextualises the articles while leaving most unchanged and unfiltered by hindsight.

Former prime minister Eddie Fenech Adami

The book revives memories of one of Malta’s most politically charged periods – an era that held the promise of a secular and modern polity, yet was marked by a tribal entrenchment amplified by social media, even poisoning friendships.

Tagged and be damned

It was a time when even friends turned on one another, opting to dig trenches rather than contribute to a constructive dialectic. Independent-minded people like Baldacchino, who never shied away from calling for the resignation of those named in the Panama Papers, were tagged on Facebook for their refusal to join the opposition’s bandwagon. I personally recall the pressure from some quarters pushing independent activists and journalists to side with the “right side of history.”

It was not an easy period for sober analysis or detached reflection. After a honeymoon period marked by liberation from oppressive norms and crippling austerity, the institutional paralysis after Panamagate triggered legitimate anger – but this often was not in sync with the popular mood: which Baldacchino understood as the electorate’s distrust of the Nationalist Party’s misuse of Panamagate as a ‘get out of jail (opposition) card’.

Former prime minister Joseph Muscat (Photo: James Bianchi/MaltaToday)

At the time, I wasn’t always on the same page with Baldacchino’s cautious approach, which seemed to defy the sense of urgency I felt. I briefly even entertained the idea of the Nationalist Party reinventing itself as a normalising centre-left force, overlooking its baggage. This prompted a respectful but scathing reply from Baldacchino, which is reproduced in the book. Despite differing views, we maintained mutual respect and exchanged opinions online.

Over time, I grew closer to Baldacchino’s position, growing uncomfortable with those misrepresenting the crisis as a Manichean struggle. The idea that the “good guys” could simply reclaim the “house that Eddie built” was, after all, a gross oversimplification.

Baldacchino reminds us that the house itself was built on shaky foundations and was vulnerable to takeover by anti-democratic forces. In hindsight, post-2019 revelations vindicated my concerns about institutional capture under former Prime Minister Joseph Muscat. But I’ve come to appreciate Baldacchino’s more cautious critique, which addresses the root causes of the crisis. In this sense, his critique is more radical than that of the rule of law crusaders, who were more concerned about who held the keys to the house than the structural works required to prove the debilitating influence of big money.

What is the establishment?

Baldacchino argues that Muscat, in delivering the economic growth he needed to sustain his majority and his plan to modernise the country, found himself refurbishing the very system he had promised to change. He became compromised by an “establishment” predating him, deforming his project.

As Baldacchino puts it: “The house that Eddie built has been well maintained and refurbished by none other than Joseph Muscat. Many Nationalists know that, and they want it back.”

This doesn’t mean Baldacchino was indifferent to the crisis. He was baffled by Muscat’s gamble to retain Konrad Mizzi after Panamagate, and scathing in his critique of the establishment – not as a conspiracy but as a real network of interests transcending political boundaries. To govern, any party must come to terms with this establishment, but it often leads to political parties becoming integral parts of it. Labour was and is not immune to this.

From agonism to antagonism

He highlights the convergence of the two main parties around a managerial economic model delivering growth while fuelling inequality. This, he argues, has led to a resurgence of tribal antagonism, replacing the former agonism between conflicting visions. The more similar the parties became, the more antagonistic they grew. In this sense, Baldacchino seems to favour a clear distinction between ‘centre-left’ and ‘centre-right’ within big-tent politics, where both tribes encompass the entire spectrum, from the progressive left to the far right, through compromise. Baldacchino’s insights explain why tribal entrenchment has returned, possibly undoing Muscat’s most redeeming aspect – his openness to a wider movement beyond tribal politics. In the absence of a grand struggle of ideas, we’re left with a bloodbath of invective, where people are forced to pick sides. In this environment, corruption becomes an accusation aimed at proving the evil nature of the other side, which is not understood as a symptom of Malta’s political economy.

The ghosts of Egrant past

Baldacchino cannot be accused of being too soft on Labour for withholding judgement on the Egrant allegation before the 2017 election. While he may have underestimated how deep the rot spread under Muscat, which came to light in the Vitals and 17 Black inquiries, his caution on Egrant was vindicated by a magisterial inquiry.

Baldacchino also swiftly recognised the gravity of Daphne Caruana Galizia’s assassination and criticised the Labour Party for aligning with the big business interests allegedly behind it. But he suspends judgement on Muscat, leaving us to wonder whether he is the Maltese equivalent of Tony Blair, Bettino Craxi, or Lula da Silva. But ultimately, the bottom line for Baldacchino is that playing games with the establishment is always a dangerous game.

Negative liberty and conviviality

Baldacchino sheds light on fundamental changes in Maltese society. While endorsing secular change, he warns of the risks of “negative liberty,” which frees individuals from an oppressive past without fostering a new sense of conviviality, where people can truly live together, not merely beside each other. In a society where consumerism erodes social bonds, this remains a pressing challenge.

Baldacchino debates issues raised by Archbishop Charles Scicluna, whom he never reprimands for speaking his mind, challenging the view among PL supporters that the Church should stay silent on political matters. At the same time, Baldacchino defends Laïcité, standing firmly for women’s reproductive rights and full equality for the LGBTIQ+ community.

Ultimately, Baldacchino stands out as one of the few true public intellectuals in an increasingly barren political landscape, a point of reference for those who follow his commentary on social media.

His book has made me feel less alone in trying to understand the complexities of Maltese society. Baldacchino’s writings are an invitation to understand – echoing Spinoza’s dictum that “to understand is to be free”. But as Baldacchino asserts, understanding sometimes requires stepping back to reflect and withhold judgement, a virtue we risk losing in a nation of Facebook warriors.