Out of their fossils

Whom are they trying to hoodwink? Their own people? Those thousands who found pastures new? Or is it all a sham, a patent way of worming oneself out of the old pebble for some new attention in the sad situation that the whole country found itself in?

These are the questions that many people have been asking as they watched the on-going travesty of “civil society” protests, ostensibly for justice and the rule of law, addressed and participated in by deflated political dinosaurs whose personal agendas come out roaring at you like, well, a toothless lion.

The usurpation of public focus following the horrible and tragic murder of my colleague on this newspaper, Daphne Caruana Galizia, has been so blatantly biased that it simply and considerably shocks one to realise they have actually been trying to sell it otherwise. People who went, genuinely and honestly, for the first manifestation in Valletta quickly recognized, and abandoned, the charade. From the speakers and the logistics personnel to the oh-so-familiar mobilisation tactics and rusty clichés, it all sounded and reeked of an instant cuppa of steaming politicisation. The unadulterated protester had no choice but to skip completely the later Sliema version.

Here again the dinosaurs crept out of their fossils presumably to whip up a campaign that was rendered lame and unconvincing immediately it began. They were not interested in national unity, certainly much needed at this moment in time, or in a massive wave of protest that would have sent the correct message to the world. All they seemingly wanted was to vent their well-known frustrations, using Daphne’s cruel end as the metaphoric bayonet with a dual edge the most obvious of which was to hit as loudly and as frantically those who had relegated them to political irrelevance by fair and popular means – through the ballot box on two consecutive, highly significant occasions.

When that happened, these dinosaurs lost thousands of precious euros in income which other more genuine same-party adherents never dreamed they could get, let alone actually make. Two heavy electoral defeats inevitably led to many fingers pointing at them from within, hence the incredible feat – some people called it the Trump Act – which Adrian Delia managed to achieve via the support of party grassroots when he became leader of the party against all odds.

It is why the other edge of the bayonet had, and evidently still has, a more internal purpose to it. Having done their damdest to obstruct Delia and his “new way” (no hint of it yet, alas), they now needed to show a public face, however macabre. The ex-leader himself, Simon Busuttil, first declared on the eve of the party leadership contest he would have given up his candidacy had he been in Delia’s shoes, and this after Daphne’s revelations. Then, when a majority of party diehards ignored him and voted for Delia, the same Busuttil made a remarkably absurd chummy scene out of handing to his successor the keys to his office.

Then came the greatest opportunity to isolate the new leader by making him feel unwelcome to join the “civil society” protest, and the Halloween story goes on as the PN Opposition fights with itself for some semblance of continuity and consistency. Delia knows he is cornered, as do the members of the group around him. The dinosaurs may have lost their bite nationally, even becoming a parody of their very own selves in front of the new generations of Maltese citizens, but intraparty, their gums could still carry a sting of venom or two.

It is hard to imagine them