Instead of the workspace you are probably occupying as you read this, picture this classic scene from your typical Hollywood crime film.
The heist crew arrives at the secured site. Character-building banter throughout the trip morphs into grim, tense silence. The camera pans to barbed wire, CCTV equipment, and the prize itself: a container full of cannabis. Cue heist music.
As the audience, you are now on the edge of your seat. Finally, you think – here comes the action.
Your suspense deflates completely as you realise that the much anticipated heist looks more like an average trip to the nearest LIDL, shopping bags and all.
While you were expecting lasers and silent takedowns on unsuspecting guards, you instead watch the crew loading weed bricks with all the agility and tact of an arthritic octogenarian, slowly shuffling back and forth from a hole in the fence, to the container, and back again.
As you continue watching in bewilderment, your inner movie critic starts screaming – where are the guards? How is any of this not setting off any alarms?
I imagine you must know where I’m going with this by now.
I am aware, of course, that the findings of the administrative inquiry which confirmed gross negligence by Armed Forces of Malta (AFM) personnel are no laughing matter.
But the fact is that the failures that were brought to light were so abysmal that nothing short of mockery can bring it into sharp relief. If this were the plot of an action film, you’d assume that you were swindled into watching a comedy instead. That’s how bad this is.
But first, the facts, for those who do not have them yet.
We know that four soldiers, including one major, were on duty when the heist happened. Those soldiers have not been named publicly and they’ve refused to testify, as is their right in the context of avoiding self-incrimination.
We also know that twelve people have been arrested by the police in connection with the heist. Five of them were arraigned and charged in court three weeks ago.
Yesterday, the prime minister published the administrative inquiry report, compiled by retired judge Geoffrey Valenzia.
Valenzia’s findings indicate that the soldier responsible for manning the CCTV system at Safi barracks was instead treating himself to some ‘me time’ while the other slept.
It is not yet clear what the other two soldiers on duty were doing at the time, though the judge notes that nobody kept track of which patrols were meant to be carried out and at what time.
While the soldier who was solely in charge of monitoring 35 CCTV cameras busied himself with a film, a call with his girlfriend, and a late dinner, the thieves who made off with 135kg of cannabis had all the time in the world.
In fact, Valenzia somewhat cryptically emphasises that it was a remarkable “coincidence” that the thieves carried out the heist on an evening in which the AFM’s security detail was so distracted.
“As if they knew nobody was watching”, the judge adds. Like bored customers shuffling back and forth between different shopping aisles, the suspects made at least three trips in and out of the ‘secure’ perimeter of the base.
Indeed. You’d have to be monumentally cocksure and stupid to leave the scene of a crime and return to pick up the rest.
Though it is evident we aren’t exactly talking about the cast of Ocean’s Eleven here, it is very unlikely that anyone would dare to risk doing so without being relatively sure that security on the site is turning a blind eye.
Therefore, all this begs the question – why are the names of the soldiers who were on duty being withheld? Of course, prosecutors will want to protect any ongoing investigations. But at this point, the severity of the negligence that was displayed simply cannot be ignored.
I’d rather have my name dishonoured because of severe negligence while having the opportunity to clear up any misconceptions about being actively involved in the theft itself instead of hiding behind a shadow of obscurity and casting the rest of the AFM into further ignominy.
Of course, the Labour Party didn’t spare a second to trumpet the inquiry’s findings as proof of home affairs minister Byron Camilleri‘s innocence. The AFM’s commander, brigadier Clinton O’ Neill, was immediately reinstated following a temporary suspension.
“There are people who are trained by the state itself to take care of the state’s security. The role of the minister is policy, not security technicalities,” Valenzia wrote about the minister’s role in the debacle, much to the joy of the government.
In this respect, Valenzia’s argument is disingenuous at best. Every minister’s policy remit eventually becomes the nuts and bolts of the domains they oversee.
The finance minister’s policies for the country’s economy eventually translate into regulations, that in turn are understood and followed (or breached) by the operators whose businesses are regulated by those policies. The transport minister’s policies for public transport translate into more or less buses, more or less cabs, more diversified fleets.
In the case of the home affairs minister, his policies absolutely do translate into the “security technicalities” which Valenzia claims are not his responsibility.
Even if that paper-thin assertion were true, the home affairs minister immediately decided to reinstate O’ Neill, someone who was absolutely not exonerated by the inquiry.
On the contrary, the inquiry found that O’ Neill dismissed the need for a fixed point detail near the container, that there was a clear lack of adequate preventive and contingency measures, that key security features such as floodlights were not functional, that the container itself was not properly locked, and that there was no documentation about which patrols were held and at what time.
Choosing who’s in charge of the AFM is not a mere “security technicality” – it’s handing over control of the country’s armed forces to one individual.
And yet, in spite of the fact that none of O’ Neill’s security measures worked properly, he was reinstated before anyone even had time to read the inquiry’s findings.
There are plenty of unanswered questions left. It remains to be seen whether the soldiers who were on duty will be identified and if so, whether investigators unearthed any links between them and the thieves.
To be clear, this article is not some damning indictment of those who were negligent on duty (assuming this was the case, and not deliberate conspiracy).
As someone who has worked too many night shifts for one lifetime (in an entirely different context), I know how tempting it is to just slack off and wait for dawn to spirit you away.
What may seem like an egregious lack of effort by anyone who’s never experienced anything similar, a night shift will make you rationalise just about anything, even putting on your headphones to watch a film in peace while a container full of drugs sits outside unguarded.
The real problem is the fact that, for years, nobody at the AFM has been held accountable for the institution’s glaring chain of command problems and the absolute incompetence that arose as a result.
In turn, Byron Camilleri has served as the ultimate doorstop for anyone seeking accountability for the state of the country’s disciplined forces, be it the police force, AFM, or LESA.
All this is the fruit of the Labour government’s insatiable affinity for incompetent and/or corrupt individuals, all of whom serve as useful idiots for the government’s operations.
This is just one more stop on the ailing gravy train that’s going nowhere.