Maybe We Should Just Let the Students Do the Talking?
Over the past week we saw two protests held as a reaction to the newest chapter in the vitals hospital saga. One was orchestrated by a coalition of university student groups last week and the other by the Nationalist Party yesterday. Both were pretty well attended but despite their common cause, the differences in atmosphere couldn’t be starker.
On Monday we saw had Bernard Grech, the country’s Opposition leader and the man who is supposedly our Prime Minister in waiting address a crowd of supporters. He insisted with those present that Malta was currently going to an unprecedented moment, and therein lies the problem.
No matter how pivotal a moment is, Grech seems unable to rise to the occasion or captivate his audience in any way. The people there were clearly there because they desperately wanted to send a message of disapproval to the government, but they weren’t there for inspiration.
Yes, the Nationalists were justified in calling a protest, but let’s face it—this does little to shift public perception. The disdain towards the government persists despite the PN, not because of it. The real barrier to progress isn’t just the deep-seated corruption from the Muscat years; it’s an opposition lacking a vibrant, communicable vision for Malta’s future.
Contrast this with the students’ protest, which saw one speaker after another take the mic and, with a poise and eloquence that most of our politicians would envy, denounce the Prime Minister’s attacks on the judiciary. One after another, they gave the Prime Minister a lesson in basic legal and democratic principles, exposing all of his claims as baseless and dishonest assertions by a man who clearly has no respect for democracy. Beyond their message, what was truly impressive was the fact that people were hooked on their every word.
The highlight was when one student threw the Prime Minister’s own doctoral thesis back at him—ironically on the subject of safeguarding the judiciary from political interference. The students’ speeches were marked by a clarity and passion that only true conviction brings—an idealistic stand against a powerful establishment that they’re perhaps blissfully unaware of the full might of.
Joseph Muscat, for all his flaws, knew how to command a room. His speeches weren’t mere rhetoric; they were masterclasses in persuasion and a joy to listen to—a trait which Grech, and Abela, both sorely lack.
In Malta, where political ideology often takes a backseat, and our economy’s scale limits stark differences between the two main parties, the PN struggles to distinguish itself. Historically, its claim to fame was economic competence, but without this edge, they’ve been floundering, relegated to rubber-stamping and token opposition—a strategy succinctly captured by what seems to be the party’s unspoken motto: “We can’t mess up too much if no one expects anything from us.”
Even on the rare occasions they get it right, the PN’s message is either poorly communicated or fails to gain traction because they’ve become a bit of a laughing stock, whose only consistent policy is seemingly that of opposing civil liberties everyone else supports.
As with all political scandals, exposing them is all well and good, but real change happens when people decide to act and to offer an alternative to the incumbent. Inquiries and investigations are only strong when a political actor is able to clearly articulate, and crucially, convince voters that they should no longer accept this.
Civil society has done a pretty good job of keeping big corruption cases on the national agenda, but they are hardly the inspiration the country longs for.
Enter Gen Z, often maligned by older generations for their woke ideologies and seen as too sensitive or easily offended, they are frequently accused of lacking resilience and having unrealistic career and life expectations. Despite these criticisms, they may be exactly what Malta needs—a breath of fresh air from the usual political staleness.
It was refreshing to see new faces perfectly and so passionately articulate the dangers of the Prime Minister’s behaviour. It’s understandable—they’ve spent their entire adult lives under a scandal-ridden Labour government. This globally connected generation has grown up during the period in which Malta’s international reputation has been damaged the most. They believe they can compete with the developed world, but their chances are constantly undermined by a political system that seems to only reward mediocrity.
Many have the option to leave for a better life elsewhere, where corruption exists but isn’t met with such brazen impunity, but they’ve chosen to stand up and be counted. It might be the case that I am now being idealistic and perhaps romanticizing matters a bit too much.
One hopes that these students will become a more prominent force in a coalition prepared to steer Malta towards the robust democracy it aspires to be. Perhaps in them, we will see the same spirit that has propelled students across the US and Europe to achieve significant impact in their protests against the current genocide in Gaza—a spirit more effective than that seen in other demonstrations.