Robert Abela’s money dance

Robert Abela has discovered the second easiest job in politics: promising money he does not personally have to people whose votes he very much wants.

The first easiest is to spin the porky that he and the Labour Party are the underdogs in the upcoming elections.  If it were not for the fact that I know for sure that he knows what an underdog is, I would have entertained the notion that he thought that underdog meant being the top dog.

He knows full well that he and his gang members are basking in the reflected glory of the sun shining out of the rump of incumbency.  They’ve been dishing out favours and discreet pats on the back for the last 13 or so years, and that does not give you under-mutt status.

Quite the contrary, in the words of a True Trumpian, that makes you the ‘orneriest sonuvabitch’  to have to try to beat.

But back to that second-easiest job in politics.

Over the past three weeks, Malta has not been treated to an electoral campaign so much as a televised raid on the Treasury, with the Prime Minister standing at the counter in a red tie, handing out IOUs with the serene confidence of a man who expects someone else to pick up the bill.

That someone else will be you and me; well, at least those of us who don’t evade our duty to pay taxes.   Finance Minister Clyde Caruana, voluble in his insistence to diss the PN’s ideas going forward, is rather less eager to pour cold water on Abela’s profligacy.

Let’s have a quick look… new baby? Here’s €5,000. Young worker? No tax on the first €30,000. Student? More stipend, plus €1,000 if Erasmus beckons. Worker? Have a €1,000 “super bonus”, though not if you are the wrong sort of worker.

Self-employed? A grant to soften your NI. Pensioner? Something for you, too. Widow? Something else. Over 75? Another €200. Need a live-in carer? Nearly €11,000. Disabled young adult? €1,000 for therapy. Buying a first home? Grants, refunds, exemptions. Going to Gozo on foot? Free. Got three children and need a bigger car? €5,000; make it electric, and it becomes €12,000.

At this stage, one half-expects him to announce a national allowance for people emotionally distressed by campaign jingles, and a special one-time payment for anyone who has survived a Labour press conference without laughing.

The remarkable thing is not merely the profligacy. It is the nakedness of it. There is barely a pretence of policy left.

The country has traffic paralysis, over-construction, institutional rot, corruption fatigue, population pressures, collapsing patience, and a general sense that the place is being run like a badly lit franchise outlet.

Abela’s answer is not reform. It is not accountability. It is not competence. It is: how much would it take for you to stop asking questions?

This is not social justice. It is auctioneering.

And the auctioneer has the nerve to lecture others about costings. He waves away criticism as incompetence, while producing a manifesto by instalment, each day another envelope, another grant, another tax break, another “targeted” payment, another carefully selected voting bloc patted on the head and told that Robert understands.

He understands all right. He understands that the Labour model is exhausted, so he must bribe it back into motion. He understands that anger at corruption can be softened with a cheque. He understands that voters who feel squeezed may be tempted to accept a little cash now and ask about the consequences later.

That is what makes him dangerous: not generosity, but cynicism dressed up as compassion.

A responsible government helps people because the country needs a fairer structure. A profligate chancer throws money around because he needs another mandate. Abela is not building a future. He is buying time.

And worse, he is buying it with our money.