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As far as efforts to pacify the general public go, the government’s Budget campaign is always telling.
The really interesting bit about this annual public relations exercise is the underlying effort behind the message, not the message itself. Though the numbers rattled off by finance minister Clyde Caruana do merit further scrutiny, the image which the government seeks to project as a whole is more significant.
In that sense, there was nothing new about what we heard yesterday. The message has been consistent for over a decade now: stick with us and our corrupt lot, and you too can earn your turn at the trough one day. If you had to take prime minister Robert Abela’s word for it, you’d think we’re all unable to hear each other talk over the clanging noises of cash registers overflowing with cash.
Well, I don’t know about you, dear reader, but I think it’s safe to say that the only thing I see overflowing is the wellspring of anxiety and anger in this nation’s soul. We swiftly blame foreigners for problems of our own making. We covet wealth at all costs. We consume with a hunger that is abnormal. More somehow leaves us feeling less. Blaming everyone and everything else for one’s shortcomings is practically a national sport at this point.
A government that is completely dependent on corruption has to talk so much about putting money in your pockets because its representatives are otherwise fully occupied with making a quick buck for themselves. It is a more sophisticated version of a magician’s sleight of hand. For you to believe the illusion, you must first be distracted by the showmanship that is part and parcel of any act.
For the government’s corrupt regime to continue existing, it must convince you that the country’s economy is doing so well that its largesse is flowing down to all, a benevolent waterfall showering the Maltese people with tax breaks and financial incentives. Budget 2025 brought plenty of platitudes about how it is only thanks to the Labour Party that this is possible, peppered with plenty of the usual accusations leveled at the Opposition and the austerity Labour claims it was responsible for.
Let’s put that tired old argument into perspective for a second. The government is so straitjacketed by its own inadequacy that, in its annual budget showpiece, it is still forced to recall its tropes from twelve years ago, the same year in which we were all told the world would end because of a Mayan calendar, the same year in which PSY’s Gangnam Style was still at the very peak of its meteoric ascent to the halls of pop music infamy. That is how long ago we’re talking about.
The government cannot afford to come across as completely tone-deaf to the obvious outrage about the crass levels of corruption in the country. And so, we got another layer of rhetoric which became particularly consistent during Robert Abela’s premiership – tacitly selling the idea that corruption was essential to bring an influx of money into the country, and that thanks to the steroidal economy that grew out of this corruption, it is now possible to focus on quality rather than quantity.
Għax aħna qatt ma’ kellna xejn, ħi. Kullħadd irid jiekol. You know the drill.
And so, the disparate threads of years of propaganda culminate in this year’s slogan: pajjż ta’ kwalita’.
This is the logic of a government that has no issue whatsoever with clawing out the six inches of topsoil we owe our existence to so it can erect monuments to its own greed.
Unfortunately for the prime minister and the enablers in his Cabinet, not everyone is stupid enough to think that money is all there is to life. It always takes a group of activists to cut through the miasma of propaganda, and yesterday, Moviment Graffitti did just that. It had to take a group of rowdy, determined people to steer the conversation towards the elephant in the room rather than the carrots on sticks which everybody wrote home about.
I know it can be difficult to remain objective when faced with so many dissonant voices, so I think we should all peer inward for a second and actually reflect not just on the reality we experience on a daily basis but also the kind of reality we want in the future.
The fact is that the country is up for carving, and you and I aren’t at the dining table. It’s a big club, and you ain’t in it, as George Carlin would have put it – there is the Labour Party club and those who are loyal to it, and then there is everyone else. Disputing that reality is simply dishonest.
The government can widen tax bands to the far ends of the universe for all I care. It still wouldn’t change the fact that overall, nobody benefits from corruption, nor would it change the fact that cutting off tax streams while failing to address gross overspending in the public sector is a recipe for disaster.
This is not the reality we should subject ourselves to, not now, not ever. The reality we should aspire to is one in which the big club is disbanded, where the gatekeepers trading favours with each other become outcasts instead of high-ranking officials with the power to choke off a whole country.
Lining up to kiss arse and hoping somebody tosses you a bone is behaviour that befits a dog, not citizens in a democracy.