Carnival & power : play & politics in a Crown Colony

Abstract

The Maltese islands, known as Malta, are a tiny archipelago in the Mediterranean, which may either be seen as situated at the periphery of Europe, eighty kilometres below Sicily and three hundred kilometres off the North African coast, or as the navel of the Mediterranean, given their central location. Two islands are inhabited: Malta and Gozo, with a total population of approximately 437,000 and Malta is the smallest member of the European Union. Colourful festivities are an integral part of Maltese life, and Carnival is celebrated across the two islands, particularly in the two capitals: Valletta in Malta and Rabat (Victoria) in Gozo. I have always enjoyed Carnival. When I was a young girl, my little brother and I were regularly taken to the Valletta Carnival by my mother and grandmother. At home, we had photos of my parents, aunts and uncles in Carnival costume, and my mother’s sister, Marie, participated in the students’ floats. I loved the merry atmosphere in the streets, the floats, the costumes, and the dancing in the enclosure, as well as the childrens’ fancy dress parties at the Każin Malti, and at the Malta Hilton, which had just opened. In the 1970s, my family no longer went to watch the Carnival, which had become a much poorer version of what it had been in the 1960s and early 1970s. Having lived abroad for several years, I came back to Malta in the 1990s, after Carnival had again been moved to February. Since then, I have only ever missed the celebrations when I have travelled abroad to visit other Carnivals. Thanks to two students, Beatrice Cachia and Simon Gatt, I discovered the Carnival in Gozo. As a theatre scholar, I have been very interested in the evolution of the Carnivals in the two islands in contemporary times, and have written various articles about the subject. Meanwhile, as is usually the case with research, while looking for something completely different at the National Library, I fell upon a political article, written in the nineteenth century, that exploited the Carnival celebrations to denounce British policies. This led me to delve deeply into Carnival during the period of British occupation, discovering tons of material that deserved to be written up—stories, descriptions, poems, anecdotes, but also social realities and political conditions that emerged from beneath the various layers of celebratory fun and delight. I also found that my background in theatre helped me note important elements that were often ignored by historians or simply mentioned in passing, but which, I felt, deserved closer examination. I was strongly encouraged to pursue this line of research by past rector, Peter Serracino Inglott, and was helped by a substantial number of students who opted to do their summer work poring over old newspapers in the National Library. Dr Michael Frendo, the former Minister for Culture, provided added encouragement by commissioning a documentary on contemporary Carnivals in Malta and Gozo. I was very lucky to be welcomed as a visiting scholar at Lucy Cavendish College, University of Cambridge which provided a haven of peace and intense study, where the project for this book really began to take shape. The days buried in the University Library, surrounded by myriads of books, and the wonderful time in the rare books section are memories I treasure deeply. I am particularly grateful to Dr Anna Sapir Abulafia, who at the time was Vice-President of the College, for her warm welcome and interest in my project, as well as to Professor David Abulafia, who had suggested I spend my sabbatical carrying out my research at the university. Reading so many different sources, and writing about a subject I am passionate about, has led me to think very deeply about my identity. I am a Maltese whose parents tried emigration, but opted to return to the island. I speak English with—as some British are fond of pointing out—an accent that is, as Homi Bhabha would say, ‘right but not quite’, even though I have never been very clear about what is, actually, ‘quite right’, given the countless accents in the British Isles and the US; that is, if one opted to momentarily ignore all those in the colonies where the English language was perhaps the principal imported cultural product. Yet I have seen this criterion being used as a form of protectionism for the preservation of certain international key positions—fortunately, from an observer’s standpoint. The work for this book, and my life experiences, have led me to reflect on contemporary ways of defining ‘hegemony’ and my readings have brought me to great masters in the subject whose writings have made me think very deeply about my country’s past and present, and whose teachings have profoundly influenced my own writings. I write from the standpoint of a convinced European who is puzzled by the discourse of distinction, rather than unity, that is being pursued at a European level at the time of writing, and am often tempted to examine this from a theatrical perspective. This book may serve as a model to pursue new research, as the carnivalesque invades new political territories. I end this short reflection with the thanks that are due to all those people who have helped to make this book happen.