Issue link: https://maltatoday.uberflip.com/i/521559
9 M alta is, as we all know, a kind of magical place really. Things keep happening that seem to defy all known natural laws of physics. Whether it's entire dossiers inexplicably going missing, or political parties morphing out of naked opportunism into the exact opposite of what they were until just a few months ago… the sort of things that happen routinely in this country are quite literally the stuff of myth and fairy tale. But even I, who have witnessed countless such transmogrifications over 20 or so years, was slightly taken aback at the sheer scale of the latest feat of illusionism to be performed here. Not content with performing vanishing tricks on such things as 'accountability', 'political responsibility' and so on… the authorities decided to take the fine art of Maltese magic one step further. They made the entire Mediterranean Sea disappear. What? No, of course not. Haven't had a drink all day. But I swear to you: it was there one day, and then gone the next. The entire flipping Mediterranean Sea… vanished, just like that. How the heck did they manage? And more to the point: WHY? In any case, I invite you all to witness this miracle for yourselves. Just take a drive along the Coast Road (which, by the way, is so named for a reason)…. or at least, as far as you can along it before being diverted by ongoing roadworks into some previously uncharted area of Maghtab. The penultimate time I tried, it was in the direction of Bahar ic-Caghaq from Salina. And as on countless times before, I took the Ghallis bend, and was regaled on the left side by a splendidly expansive panorama of the Mediterranean sea: you know, that body of water which has inspired countless poets since the days of Homer; the same 'wine-coloured' sea upon which Odysseus spent 10 years adrift; that Ferdinand Braudel (and Ernle Bradford, and so many others) have written entire histories and eulogies about; that Nelson and Napoleon chased each other through on the way to Aboukir, and that served as a pivotal theatre for World War Two. And like all the other times, the sight added a small dimension to my appreciation of reality. It is not for nothing that poets and artists have always been so fascinated by the sea, you know. We are, after all, only talking about one of nature's most powerful and unpredictable forces here. And one of the things that makes a 'sea-view' such a hotly sought-after feature in the property market, is precisely the constant mutability of the panorama. The last time I drove along the Coast Road, the sea around Qalet Marku was in one of those limpid, crystal clear states that look like you could almost take a stroll right across the surface of the water. At other times, great breakers might have been crashing on the shore; isolated gusts of wind might have been whipping up isolated areas into rebellion; seagulls may or may not have been circling above Ghallis rocks… that's the thing about gazing upon the eternal sea. You never see the same thing twice. Well, all that is finished now. Take the same bend at Ghallis today, and what now greets you to your left is… ... a wall. Not a crash-barrier that is sufficiently low to serve its purpose without detracting from what is arguably Malta's most pleasant scenic motoring route; but a great big 'F-off ' wall, stretching the entire length of a 'Coast Road' that no longer offers any view of the 'coast'. And unlike the sea, this wall will forever remain unchanged (unless vandalised by graffiti-artists, as it so richly deserves). It will be row of Maltese-stone blocks today; the same row tomorrow, and the next day after that, ad aeternum. The most we can hope to marvel at in terms of variation is the slow, gradual weathering of the stone into a yellowish-brown. Other than that, we have been robbed of a truly invigorating spectacle that could (and in my case did) make a small everyday difference in this otherwise mundane world. Honestly, such was my dismay and consternation that I very nearly did a Simon, and drove 'gas- down gol-hajt'. Not only did the architects of this project make untold billions of cubic litres of seawater simply vanish without a trace; but they also obliterated from view all evidence of the one thing that has always shaped our country's history and national character through the millennia. Some 6,000 years of human interaction with the sea, walled over with the same brutish ignorance that would (and so often did) demolish beautiful old townhouses to replace them with faceless, featureless apartment blocks. OK, by this point the question of 'how' they did this has more or less answered itself. But why? Why on earth would a project that is supposed to 'improve' Malta's traffic infrastructure, go on to rob that same infrastructure of one of its most beautiful natural assets? Well, as it happens I have a theory to account for this phenomenon. Actually two, but let's take them in order of the most conspiratorial first (always more fun that way). I suspect it has much to do with what psychoanalysts would refer to as 'penis envy' among people in positions of authority. The Mediterranean Sea, as already explained, is not just a natural wonder we all enjoyed gazing upon from the Coast Road until quite recently. It is also a constant, daily reminder of the ephemeral nature of political power. As Hermann Melville reminds us in Moby Dick, the sea rolls on 'as it did 5,000 years ago'. It was there before all mortal aspirations, and remains to this day humbling in its effortless capacity to command that one quality which is so often denied human leaders: respect. And humans just can't take this sort of humiliation. It is in our nature to demand attention for ourselves at the expense of all other things. And this tendency is all the more acute, among a political class that relies on precisely this sort of mindless hero worship for its own survival. Ah, but how can one continue to worship petty human politicians who seem to lose in stature with each passing scandal (i,.e., every other week)… when there's this constant reminder of how small and puny their self-importance really is? How are people expected to pay their political masters their undivided attention, when there are such things as magnificent panoramas to distract them? And besides: if people are permitted to gaze on a vision of infinite splendour and majesty… wouldn't there be a danger that their horizons might expand as a result, to the extent that they may no longer be enthused by an endless, pointless game of political tug-of- war? No, no, this cannot be endured. So while we're in the business of 'improving Malta's traffic infrastructure'… how about we also erect a wall in the name of 'safety', thereby removing a constant distraction and forcing people to think only of their immediate, mundane surroundings? The same incidentally applies to trees: another symbol of untold poetic force to have clearly incurred the wrath of the powers that be in this country. Trees are among the oldest living things on earth. They are universally associated with wisdom and strength; just consider how Norse mythology perceived the entire universe – real and ethereal – as the branches of a single, all- encompassing World Tree named Yggsdrasil. Or the Irish myth of the nine sacred hazel trees whose nuts dropped into the waters of the Boyne and Shannon rivers, so that the salmon which fed upon them became the wisest creatures in all the world… Can't exactly have symbols of eternal wisdom occupying the space immediately in front of Castille Palace, now, can we? By virtue of contrast, it might show up the people who work in that place as a bunch of ignorant buffoons. So the trees have to go, lest they detract attention from the constant glorification these buffoons evidently expect as theirs and theirs alone. OK, OK, it was just a theory. And I still haven't had a drink all day, promise. As for the second theory, it is slightly less romantic and a good deal simpler… in other words, far more probable. Fact is: we don't actually like nature in this country. On the contrary: we hate it so much that we never miss an opportunity to hide as much of it as we can behind a faceless sprawl of urban development. Urban development, on the other hand, we like very much indeed. It is comforting and reassuring. For one thing it is ugly; just like we are. So we do not feel threatened when confronted by the sight of a featureless stone wall, as we would be by a stunningly beautiful sea view, or a valley full of trees, greenery and life. For another, at every point in our lives we have been inured to view development as an end in itself. It is 'the motor of the economy', remember? All development is therefore good development, because somebody, somewhere is making money out of it… and it helps cover up all that ugly natural stuff, too. This is partly why I wasn't at all surprised to hear Environment Minister Leo Brincat describe the Zonqor point proposal as an example of 'sustainable development'. His government's entire point of departure is rooted in the premise that construction is of itself a 'good thing', no matter the consequences. It clearly belongs, as its predecessor did in its time, to the mind-set that views 'unspoilt' landscape as a waste of a natural resource that would be so much better if developed to the last square inch. And this is precisely the purpose that the Great Wall of Ghallis serves: it is a daily reminder, to all who drive on the Coast Road, that this is a country where the only environment worth protecting is the built environment. As for the rest… it's all worthless wasteland, just crying out to be bulldozed altogether from memory. Raphael Vassallo maltatoday, WEDNESDAY, 3 JUNE 2015 Opinion Take the same bend at Ghallis today, and what now greets you to your left is… a wall – a great big 'F-off' wall, stretching the entire length of a 'Coast Road' that no longer offers any view of the 'coast' It's a kind of magic… The coast road – as it was, potholed and all, but with a view.