Fantasy Island (Part I)
Some rotten apples have given Malta a bad name.
Once upon a time there was a small island right in the middle of the Mediterranean. The people inhabiting it were mostly either fishermen, hunters or farmers. They led simple lives until they were conquered by foreign powers. The island’s geographical position and its deep natural harbours established it as a cosmopolitan trading post from very early on. From the Phoenicians to the Romans, from the Arabs to the Knights of St. John, from Napoleon to the British Empire, everyone came to realise that this island was a huge asset in the Mediterranean. Most of them were keen on turning this idyllic island into a military base. As a result, its name has often made it into the history books. Neolithic temples, Roman villas, Arab architectural features, forts and fortresses from medieval times and British barracks adorn the island, symbols of a rich history which spans 6,000 years. The influence of these conquerors permeates everything: from the landscape to the food, from the language to the very mentality of the people.
Living in poverty and looking up at affluent conquerors, the common folk learned very early on to be thrifty. Nothing was thrown away. Everything could be traded with the frequently visiting ships. Salt pans were cut out of the limestone rocks and sea salt was harvested. Capers, thyme and aniseed were collected from the wild growing bushes spread all over the island. The people were proud of their work but years of living in the shadow of their conquerors showed them a decadent life full of luxuries they could not afford. Finally, after centuries of foreign rule, the island gained its independence in 1964 and became a republic soon after. Immediately before and after these dates, the population had already divided itself into two political streams: the manual labourers, centred around the shipyards, and the legal, medical and other professions representing the middle class. Both parties had good intentions and contributed to the betterment of people’s life. The harbours, the beautiful sea and the warm climate made shipbuilding and repair and tourism natural choices as industries which could help raise the standard of living. Wages increased, social housing, schools and the health service improved but the political rivalry between the two factions continued to grow. Elections, a huge game with fans (and hooligans) on both sides, were often marred by violence and tensions were always high.
To make matters worse, the people were now infected with consumerism. New jobs and better wages meant nothing if you lacked social standing. Many people thought (and still think) that this could be bought. Newer bigger houses (disproportional to the size of the island) had to be built, new bigger cars had to be bought and new bigger roads had to be laid for them. The few trees came to be seen as a nuisance and were cut down to make space for parking. Farmland was built over. Bigger, more luxurious hotels were built, fresh water was desalinated from the sea. A new power station had to be built. Bit by bit, the beautiful island became a stone and concrete jungle. Almost everything on the island had to be imported, making it highly vulnerable to price hikes.
All this cost money and successive governments managed to attract different foreign investments to balance the budget but, as the costs increased, newer means of state income had to be found. With membership in the EU someone came up with the “bright” idea of selling the island’s citizenship and access to the EU to non-EU nationals. This is the setting for a story about greed. A story about money, ministers and murder on the sunny island of Malta … (to be continued)