Malta: Where Shepherds, Sheep, and Elections Collide in Mediterranean Majesty

Welcome, dear readers, to Malta, the fairytale island of wonder. A small jewel in the Mediterranean, where the past, present, and future spin and dance like a comic ballet. Malta boasts a colourful history, a vibrant culture, and curious democratic traditions where shepherds and sheep (with the right documentation) are both eligible to vote in preferential form for Members of the European Parliament (MEPs) and local councils. Prepare for a fun, informative look at our local politicians in their native environment.

This sun-soaked piece of paradise is so tiny that if you blink while looking at a world map, you will probably miss it. Despite its population of more than 536,740 and its area of just 316 square kilometers, Malta is a rocky outcrop of hyperactive Maltese, loudly debating every waking decision on the planet.

Put the shepherds and their flock of sheep aside for now and get ready to enter the politically tangled web of Malta. Here, the shepherd is more than a mere pastoral figure. The sheep are the shady political followers; that's us, the constituents - because, spoiler alert, at its core, this is really a story of two shepherds: one wearing blue and the other red, playing tug-of-war over herds of sheep, each claiming to offer fine pastures and shinier barns while neither lets the flock see what is going on behind the curtains.

This brings us to the nub of the issue: the election of our MEPs and local councils. In Malta, elections are not only democratic acts; they are spectacles, festivals, grand circuses where magicians display their charms, claiming to fascinate the voters. The Maltese MEP election is like the Eurovision Song Contest; instead of glittering costumes and sing-along tunes, you get glossy leaflets and broken promises. It is when the candidates, our shepherds, don their Sunday best smiles, wear their Sunday best suits, and give their best speeches, trying to shake the hand of every sheep that crosses their path, while reaffirming their promise to be the voice of Malta in the European Parliament. But let's be real: the MEP elections are more about the English-Shepherd concept and gathering as many sheep as possible rather than genuinely representing Malta in Europe. And what do the sheep receive in exchange? Let’s just say the pasture is pretty static.

Local council elections make the MEP elections look like a right laugh. Imagine this: a tiny village square, a selection of hopefuls, and a host of wide-eyed sheep eagerly anticipating the freshest set of rumours appropriated as news. Think morning mass appeal, nights of gossip, juicy tribunal scandals, and dramatic political performances. It is like a soap opera but with more bureaucracy and slightly fewer commercial breaks. In fact, town and village elections in Malta are among the most glorious exercises in absurdity ever devised. Candidate political promises reach for the stars, from fixing potholes to ensuring pastizzi remain a staple food for life. They kiss babies, pat dogs, and nod sagely while feigning interest in the suffering of voters. The sheep, bless their woolly souls, simply tread along beneath the waves, their fingers crossed for divine intervention that might never arrive.

Now, let us delve into the drama of these elections. The shepherds, wise to the ways of manipulation, use various methods to convince the sheep. At the start of every election season, the shepherds wield a grand catalogue of promises. Anything from plans to build new infrastructure to improvements in healthcare and education, no promise is too huge or too good to be true. The sheep, eternal optimists, listen with bated breath, conscious of the paradise that surely awaits them. Here’s the kicker: most of these promises are recycled from past election campaigns. Shepherds excel at reworking age-old promises, slapping on a fresh coat of paint, and selling them as the newest ideas. And the sheep? Oh, they have short memories and a boundless capacity for hope.

The media, always on the lookout for a good yarn, inflates the drama and transforms minor transgressions into thunderous journalism. And the sheep? They love it. The more scandals, the better, as it gives them something to spice up their lives and spread around at the pastizzeria on the corner. This is all part of the grand show, and the sheep like it that way.

The whole island comes alive during election season, transforming into a maze of rallies, and parties. Floats parade shepherds decked out in sheep-loving fineries, waving, high-fiving, and taking selfies with the cheering flocks. The air is heavy with the scent of roasting sausages, and patriotic music blares from loudspeakers. It is a time for everyone to come together, celebrate, and forget about politics for a while.

Then the voting happens, the results are announced, and the winners are declared; the sheep return to their lives. The victorious shepherds soak up the applause, enjoying their newfound authority. Yet, privately, reality intrudes, and promises must be kept while desires must be tempered. The shepherds navigate the dangerous waters of governance, balancing the needs of their flock with the demands of the harsh political atmosphere.

As for the vanquished shepherds, they go back to the drawing board, nursing their shame, scratching their heads, licking their wounds, and promising they'll return stronger. The spotlight may have moved away, but in the realm of Maltese politics, this is never a sign of lost hope. The sheep are fickle and can quickly turn.

And so, the cycle continues. The shepherds and sheep dance their ancient dance, a tragicomedy of promises, betrayals, and festivals. Despite this, Malta - a country with a rich history and vibrant culture remains a place where politics is not just about governance but a sport worthy of theatre.

What can Malta teach us about its idiosyncratic political culture? Perhaps it is just that democracy, with all its attendant problems, means engaging in the game; the wins and the losses. It is about discovering that we are only sheep seeking a shepherd and learning to laugh at the ridiculousness. If one thing Malta tells us, it is that politics can be a form of entertainment. So, dear reader, when the next election season rolls around, take a leaf out of the book of the Maltese sheep, grab some pastizzi, and enjoy the spectacle.

We should also applaud the sheep in this political spectacle. They make the show with their woolly looks, sweet eyes, and steadfast faith. They navigate the maze of promises and scandals, capricious and impotent, but always hopeful that their shepherd will lead them to greener pastures.

The sheep, in all their preposterous simplicity, have an enviable power at their disposal: the power of hope. Each election cycle, they think, "This time, things will change." They believe their chosen shepherd will deliver on the promises, and their lives will be better. It is a beautiful, though sometimes misguided, hope that keeps the democracy cogs turning.

In Malta, the sheep are more than just spectators. They are part of the process. Communities unite during election season, creating camaraderie and a common goal. From debating the quality of candidates to cheering at rallies, the sheep form bonds stronger than their political attachments.

Over the years, the sheep have learned that the shepherds can be wolves in disguise. They recognise that not all promises can be kept and that scandal is inevitable. But they persist in engaging in the process, knowing that democracy is not a destination but a journey. The lessons they provide, forged in the fires of experience, speak volumes about the resilience of the Maltese spirit.

For the shepherds, the challenge is different. They must balance the demands of governance with the expectations of the electorate. It is a difficult job, requiring charisma, listening skills, and the ability to compromise. Shepherding involves listening to the concerns of the flock and balancing those with the realities of governance.

One of the biggest promises shepherds must keep is to close the gap between election commitments and actual implementation. They need to decide what will be done, secure funding, and navigate bureaucracy, all while keeping the sheep appeased.

After the election, the shepherds shoulder the grim reality of governance. They need to bring major change but cannot be rash about it. Any positive change requires bargaining and deal-making. This is hard, thankless work, but the shepherds feel driven to do it because they believe in their vision for the future.

The sun sets on one election and rises on the next, and the cycle of shepherds and sheep repeats itself. Malta, with its incredible combination of history, culture, and political intrigue, remains resolute as a place where democracy continues to thrive.

Nothing, however, is as certain as the dance that will continue for eternity; the dance of shepherds and sheep on Malta's political stage. New leaders will ascend, new promises will be made, and new scandals will emerge. But the sheep will hold on to hope, and democracy will persist.