In the name of profit, various commercial interests are seeking to take away all that Valletta has to offer to the good of society. Any vision for a better city ought to have our common good as its main aim.

by Isles of the Left

Image by Raisa Galea (assisted by Fotor & GoArt)

[dropcap]F[/dropcap]rom the privatization of the Valletta view by MIDI’s Tigné Point development to the obstruction of public space in Strait and Merchant’s streets by private enterprises, the thirst for profit appears to be rolling over any resistance in Valletta and beyond. However, this is only part of the story.

Resistance to the overtake of public space by commercial interests also exists. These initiatives are bold and courageous, yet seldom—if ever—are reported in the mainstream media. Thankfully, not everything and not everyone in our capital city have succumbed to the egocentric rationale of profit-making; there still remains hope in the shoreline of the Grand Harbour’s edge, largely untouched by mercenary ventures, in the projects such as MUŻA that aim to foster community engagement, and in the residents’ active resistance to the abuse of common heritage by City Lounge.

Isles of the Left has delved into the hidden politics of space. We discussed both the disappointing projects and the hopeful stories of resistance. This publication believes in the power of inspiring stories to encourage a different vision for the city—a vision that prioritises the common good of society over the thirst for profit.

Part I. A City by Gentlemen for Tourists

1. Valletta: A Capital of Whose Culture?

by Raisa Galea

Until a few years ago, Valletta was regarded as two distinct things: one a marvel of Baroque architecture and the other—a swamp. One to be admired, the other to be disdained and vilified. One—its facades and the other—its ‘3rd class’ residents. Elegant ladies and gentlemen frequently lamented that ‘a city built by gentlemen’ did not belong to ‘the gentlemen’ any longer.

However, il-belt has drastically changed in the past few years.

What’s happened? How has the capital so closely associated with ‘slums’, ‘criminals’ and ‘ħamalli’ become trendy and barely affordable for an average earner within just a couple of years?

The effect of gentrification brought on by the Valletta2018 handsome investment prospects is only a part of the bigger puzzle. The cultural climate of our capital is intriguing and complex. In fact, rather than having been revamped into a capital of culture, Valletta has become much more of a battleground of antagonistic cultures—and the winner has been the one that promises highest profit. Read more here.

2. How Neoliberal Capitalism Shaped Tigné Point to Sell the Valletta View

by Teodor Reljić

Certainly, the general public can still enjoy the gorgeous—and, crucially, tourist-friendly—view of Valletta from the Tigné Point bridge and the paved walkway that frames its posh residences and restaurants. But the presence of the residential and commercial complexes leave an undeniable impression on the experience—one feels as if they’re encroaching on somebody else’s land, even if they’re technically “allowed” to do so.

“In reality, part of the panoramic view has been commodified as a commercial proposition within this intrinsically financially-driven, property-led regeneration scheme, with much of the capitalised view accessible to a few wealthy residents able to buy into it.” Read more here.

3. The Politics of Space and Social Segregation

by Alberto Favaro

When the criteria for the evaluation of spatial planning are set by influential private actors, space is valued only as a financial opportunity rather than a livable place. It’s evident how an approach to the city that does not comply with this model loses any priority on the agenda.

As ancient Greeks once put it, we design the city and the city designs us. Therefore, territorial planning should be treated as a formative tool for helping us become the humans we want to be; any unequal opportunity at this stage will drastically increase the social segregation we are already experiencing.

Part II. Struggles for a Common City

4. Cities of the Future and the Power of Radical Creativity

Interview with Pascal Gielen

Pascal Gielen, Professor of Culture & Politics Sociology at the Antwerp Research Institute for the Arts, hopes that the cities of the future would be Common Cities, where social class distinctions would not be prominent and where creative communities—together with other people—would reclaim parts of the city from commercial interests. Read more here.

In her series titled “Valletta and Our Common Good”, writer and traveller Josephine Burden evaluated the flagship projects of Valletta2018. She also explored and mapped the activities which could help Valletta transform into a Common City.

5. Valletta and Our Common Good: Strada Stretta

by Josephine Burden

There are at least two practices that enable the aim of helping citizens to live well. First, good neighbourliness and the extent to which design and action take account of people. And second, the extent to which public space—the streets, squares, parks—enables human interaction.

The legacy of Strait Street is mixed. The rash of commercial tables and chairs particularly around the junction with Old Theatre Street contradicts any legacy of public space as the lifeblood of citizen interaction. However, Strada Stretta also now offers creative and social venues that support civil action and innovative projects. Read more here.

6. Valletta and Our Common Good: is-Suq tal-Belt

by Josephine Burden

As we share the commons, we constantly negotiate our relationship in terms of the good that we hold in common. When one amongst us uses the commons such that the rest of us are disadvantaged, then our lives are diminished. Now that the market has been permitted to establish an abusive relationship to the commons and our institutions celebrate the right of Is-Suq to continue operating, I am discouraged about the options open to us in seeking to rectify the injustice. Read more here.

7. Valletta and Our Common Good: MUŻA

by Josephine Burden

In relation to Valletta Commons, MUŻA is a significant project, not least due to the planned openness to the community—by offering access from Jean de Valette Square through to Merchant St and by founding its curatorial practice in the stories of the community.

The re-launch of the Museum of Fine Arts as MUŻA opens up another aspect of the Commons and that is the role of our shared culture in shaping the way we think. As long as we leave it to others to tell the stories, we abandon the Commons to the dominant voices. Read more here.

8. Valletta and Our Common Good: City Lounge vs Residents’ Resistance

by Josephine Burden

We have yet to see if the growing chorus of voices seeking to strengthen the planning and enforcement system in Malta will have any impact. Some blame greed, corruption and collusion between government and business to enrich the few at the expense of the common good. Taking that position makes it difficult to identify possibilities for change.

Strengthening enforcement may help in the short term but we have to examine the underlying system that assumes that people in power—whether politically or economically—have the right to use public space according to their own needs rather than as a shared resource for us all. Read more here.

9. Valletta and Our Common Good: Biċċerija, Valletta Design Cluster

by Josephine Burden

This project adds another dimension to Burden’s concept of the commons—the criterion of process that takes account of the common good. She does not subscribe to the notion that the end justifies the means but she does hold that good process is more likely to lead to good outcomes. Genuine community consultation showcased by the Valletta Design Cluster gives promise of an end that will enhance Valletta Commons. Or perhaps the Commons may be considered as process rather than fixed product. Read more here.

10. Valletta and Our Common Good: Beyond the Pale

by Josephine Burden

Outside the walls of the city ‘by and for gentlemen’ lies a boundary space where ordinary people have more say in shaping the way we share the commons. The Grand Harbour edge of Valletta outside the walls has not yet succumbed to commercial exploitation. Perhaps it is the sea and the ferocious power with which she batters the exposed headland that will guard this part of Valletta for the Commons. Read more here.

Although this publication focused on Valletta in the past months, we have a keen interest in learning about initiatives that helped to safeguard common good from the profit-making interests. We encourage our readers to get in touch and share their stories.

From peace activists and workers to consumers of pink glittering glamour: postcards narrate the change of women’s roles in Russia for the past 65 years.

by Raisa Galea

Image: postcard from the early 1960s

[dropcap]I[/dropcap]nternational Women’s Day has always been a special date to me ever since early childhood. In Russia, where I was born and grew up, 8^th March was and still remains one of the most popular and broadly celebrated public holidays of the year.

This date tells the story of international suffrage. The first proposal to introduce a Women’s Day was voiced on February 28, 1909 in New York. The first celebration of International Women’s Day happened on March 19, 1911 in Berlin.

It is essential to remember that this initiative was put forward by working women who did not feel at home with mainstream feminism of the day. “Bourgeois feminism and the movement of proletarian women are two fundamentally different social movements”, Clara Zetkin wrote in the Social Democratic women’s magazine Die Gleichheit (Equality) in 1894. This celebration, therefore, was one of the achievements of the women of the German Social Democratic Party (SPD) whose organisational strength inspired the International Socialist Women Movement.

International Women’s Day in Russia

Women’s Day in my native country too has a long history.

In the Russian Empire, its first celebration in 1913 was rather a tribute to the emerging Western trend. On March 8, 1917 (23^rd February by the Julian calendar then used in Russia), thousands of female textile workers took to the streets of Petrograd (St. Petersburg) demanding ‘Bread and Peace’. The event was the catalyst of the February Revolution which paved way to the October socialist revolution of the same year. In 1921 International Woman’s Day was established in socialist Russia to commemorate this strike; it became a special day in the county torn apart by the civil war. However, only half a century later did Women’s Day receive the final state recognition in the USSR: in 1966 it eventually became a public holiday. It took even longer before the date was adopted by the United Nations in 1975.

Gradually, International Woman’s Day in the USSR was losing the political and feminist meaning behind it, until it became a day for all women.

My memories of the celebration date back to the early 1990s, which were the years of my childhood. Women’s day was populated with requisite school concerts and crafting of presents for female relatives. There were flowers, poems and greeting cards from male classmates. Women’s Day was also dubbed a Day of Spring and Beauty and that finally cemented its ideologically sanitised substance. The image of this public holiday in contemporary Russia is exclusively private and stands somewhere between Valentine’s and Mother’s day.

[perfectpullquote align=”full” bordertop=”false” cite=”” link=”” color=”” class=”” size=””]The image of this public holiday in contemporary Russia is exclusively private and stands somewhere between Valentine’s and Mother’s day.[/perfectpullquote]

I began to comprehend the symbolic significance of this date in 2010, when I ‘celebrated’ it away from Russia for the first time. None of my Maltese colleagues were aware of such a thing as International Women’s Day and, for the first time in few months, I felt homesick.

Despite its ideological hollowness, March 8 was the day I used to look forward to and the absence of any celebration was deeply alienating. The following years in Malta helped me to admit how much for granted I took the seeming gender equality of my previous surrounding. It was Malta where I rediscovered the feminist and the revolutionary connotations of the Women’s Day. I cannot but note with enthusiasm the progress this date has made here for the past decade: in 2018, a series of events were organised by the activists to raise awareness of the persisting gender inequality, culminating in ‘Raise Your Voice!’ march in Valletta.

Postcards Narrate the Change of Women’s Roles

The meaning of International Women’s Day in my life underwent a radical change. No longer do I regard it as an occasion to receive gifts and greeting cards. However, I do miss the particular ingredient of the Russian March 8—the cards themselves. As an avid collector of post- and greeting cards, I treat these pieces of carton with awe.

Postcards can be remarkable narrators of history. Mass celebrations of state holidays were an indispensable part of the Soviet lifestyle, thus there were also greeting cards designated for such occasions. These cards introduced a personal dimension to the state holidays—May Day, Victory Day, Revolution Day and Women’s Day. Exchanging cards meant that both sender and receiver engaged into public celebrations privately, by sealing them with intimate relationships. These cards were ideological canvasses upon which the greetings, messages of friendship and personal stories were written; they merged public with personal. This way, the state ideology entered private lives.

[perfectpullquote align=”full” bordertop=”false” cite=”” link=”” color=”” class=”” size=””]These cards were ideological canvasses upon which the greetings, messages of friendship and personal stories were written; they merged public with personal.[/perfectpullquote]

Although the greeting cards dedicated to the majority of public holidays became obsolete soon after the fall of the USSR, International Woman’s Day cards were an exception: they still are available in Russia in a great variety of designs. The continuous representation of March 8 in greeting cards allows us to take on a journey through history, to witness the gradual changes that occurred to the perceived social roles of women during the decades of Soviet rule and in the contemporary Russian society.

The first cards commemorating International Women’s Day were released in the 1950s. The cards of this period feature a variety of themes—from abstract flowery designs, to paying homage to women as workers and active members of society. Some designs emphasised women’s traditional roles as mothers.

The postcards of 1960s depicted the international nature of the celebration. The female protagonists on these cards are workers and, traditionally, mothers. Another popular theme—a space explorer—adds to the list of the roles.

The designs of 1970s and 1980s were more abstract. Often, cards depicted the arrival of spring, with melting snow, tulips and mimosas. Another popular theme was the global significance of the date and its dedication to global peace. Such abstract artworks of Soviet International Woman’s Day greeting cards made them a universal gift to women of all age and occupation.

Contemporary Russian cards appeal to women privately. In their pink glittering glamour, they stereotype womens’ role as consumers, preoccupied with prestige of their lifestyle and appearance. The cards of the current decade feature bags, mirrors or clothes. Some designs reproduce kitchen garments, thus implying a domestic role of women. Abstract flowery designs still remain popular.

The transformation that International Women’s Day underwent in public perception is truly striking. The cards of 1950s and 2010s are worlds apart. The sequence of designs narrates the emancipatory process in reverse: from a veteran, peace activist, worker, an active member of society, the socially accepted domain of women in contemporary Russia has shifted to that of glamour and gender-defined consumption.

Valletta does not lack culture of its own. On the contrary, it has plenty of it—the little mundane rituals of “hello” and “how are you”, the feasts, the relationships between the people whom Valletta comforts and makes feel at home.

by Raisa Galea

Image: Map ‘Valletta ou Valete ville Forte, de l’Isle de Malta’ | BLAEU, J. / MORTIER, P. 1705

[dropcap]W[/dropcap]hen I moved to Valletta six years ago, one of my greatest surprises was seeing that particular face expression each time I told somebody where I was living. “Valletta?”—they cried, turning their face into a display of disbelief and frustration—“but why?!” It was then my turn to be surprised and reply “Why not?”, only to learn that the problem was “those-ħamalli-hostile-to-every-stranger-and-whom-everyone-in-their-right-mind-avoids“, or, in brief, the stereotyped residents of Valletta. My remarks on the absence of anything outrageous about my Valletta neighbours usually met a skeptic look, followed by a short yet affirming “not yet”.

Although il-belt has changed so much these past few years, ironically, the expression of surprise accompanying the question “Do you live in Valletta?” remains, but of a different kind. The alarmed look has now been replaced by a brow-raising suspicion of my riches. The most frequent question now is “How can you afford it?” This curiosity is easily understood: at this point in time, the monthly rent for a basic two-bedroom property is no less than €700, while more fashionably furnished properties cost between €1000 and €2300 (!) per month. Valletta retail has also been transformed: the prestigious boutiques and fancy cafeterias are replacing affordable clothing shops.

What’s happened? How has the capital so closely associated with “slums”, “criminals” and “ħamalli” become trendy and barely affordable for an average earner within just a couple of years? The effect of gentrification brought on by Valletta2018 handsome investment prospects is only a part of the bigger puzzle. The cultural climate of our capital is intriguing and complex. In fact, rather than being smoothly revamped into a “capital of culture”, Valletta has become much more of a battleground of antagonistic cultures and the winner is the one that promises highest profit.

Defining “Culture”

The rapid transformation of Valletta is a source of many disputes. Some argue that it was far more charming in a crumbling state. Others say that a facelift is necessary to host the V18 events ‘in style’. One way or another, the ultimate majority of discussions about Valletta’s future image focus exclusively on the visual aspects of its facades and omit the stories of human relationships behind them.

[beautifulquote align=”left” cite=””]Since there is a great variety of equally important cultures, it is absurd to suggest that any place or person could lack it.[/beautifulquote]

To start with, there is no universal definition of culture. In fact, the two most frequently referenced definitions contradict one another. According to one of them, culture is “a moral and aesthetic ideal, which found expression in art and literature and music and philosophy”. The other one suggests that culture is “that complex whole which includes knowledge, belief, arts, morals, law, customs, and any other capabilities and habits acquired by man as a member of society”. The first implies there can be one and only ideal of culture. The second insists there is a great variety of equally important cultures, hence it is absurd to suggest that any place or person could lack it.

The fate of Valletta depends on which kind of culture it is a capital of. Is it the culture limited to prestigious entertainment or is it the culture of everyday life experiences which bring the place and the people into a tangible bond? Is it the culture which treats Malta’s capital as a gourmet backdrop for trendy performances or is it the culture which can be experienced only by becoming part of its daily fabric?

Valletta as Two Cities

I always thought that every place owns its unique spirit to the indissoluble relationship between its architecture and its residents. However, soon after having become a part of Valletta myself, I began to realise that, in the eyes of public, Valletta was two distinct things: one a marvel of Baroque architecture and the other—a swamp. One to be admired, the other to be disdained and vilified. One—its facades and the other—its ‘3rd class’ residents.

I learned that Valletta was severely bombed during World War II and the majority of its A-list inhabitants fled to safer places. Countless times I witnessed how elegant ladies and gentlemen grimaced in resentment at “the city built by gentlemen” not belonging to “gentlemen” any longer.

[beautifulquote align=”left” cite=””]Valletta’s architecture and Valletta’s residents are not seen as one.[/beautifulquote]

The tragedy of this immensely charming city is that Valletta’s architecture and Valletta’s residents are not seen as one. Sadly, in the eyes of respectable citizens and heritage guards, the residents and the architecture belong to different dimensions and are worth of contrasting treatment. The residents, often stereotyped as primitive boors, leeches depleting the social welfare or criminals, are presumed undeserving of the places they inhabit, in which every stone tells a story of its past noble magnificence.

[beautifulquote align=”left” cite=””]For Maltese conservative gentry, culture and Baroque are interchangeable terms.[/beautifulquote]

The Maltese conservative gentry, for whom culture and Baroque are interchangeable terms, goes at lengths to emphasize that the city built by their forefathers still belongs to them and it should be reserved for worshiping high culture. They denounce anything unfitting of Valletta’s noble image. The Monti, pastizzi shops, clothes lines—everything inseparable from the daily lives of many of Valletta’s residents—is classified as desperately brutish, plebeian and culture-lacking. The social housing units of Mandragg and lower Valletta fall into the same “shameful eyesore” category.

Hipster Valletta: Regeneration with a Taste for Venerating Poverty

Unfortunately, the nation-wide pride for its architecture did not protect “the city built by gentlemen” from decades of neglect. In his renowned photographic essay “Vanishing Valletta”, David Pisani documented the crumbling abandoned buildings which neither “gentlemen” nor the government rushed to restore. The most beautiful facades were not deemed worthy of care until a few years ago, when shabby suddenly became the new chic.

New bars on Strait Street and lower Valletta (former red light districts) were injected with a new vibe. These trendy outlets rely mainly on the fashionable hipster crowd who visit Valletta for a sip of “authentic experience”.

The hipster crave for “authenticity” deserves a special mention.

Unlike the conservative baroque-worshiping gentry, the predominantly young creative middle class is not repelled by shabby walls and laundry lines. On the contrary, the youth, unfamiliar with the realities of true undignified poverty, sees dilapidated spaces as aesthetically pleasing and ‘cool’. Thus, to the hipster culture, Valletta’s crumbling facades are a splendid backdrop for a trendy party.

The hipster culture does not seek a deeper relationship with the city because its interests do not delve deeper than the facades. This way of experiencing the city also strips its inhabitants of their humanity as it folklorises them into exotic creatures. The condescending acceptance of ’embarrassingly styleless specimen’ best manifested itself in a LovinMalta’s article: With a touch of sentimental sadness, it waved good-bye to the Triton Fountain kiosks, classifying them as amusing, yet unfitting to the upscale image a European Capital of Culture is expected to flaunt.

The contrast between the outspoken poverty of a few Valletta’s neighbourhoods and the trendy entertainment culture, thriving on romanticising this poverty, is stark. Hipster’s willingness to hang around dilapidated spaces sets a precedent for opening more bars designed to suite a particular taste. While Tico-Tico, Café Society and the Gut physically belong to Valletta, they remain an isolated bubble disconnected from the mundane activities of the local community.

Boutique Hotels for the Tasteful Caste

After the decades of neglect and distant worship, the vacant houses and residential properties discovered the new meaning of existence—that of a boutique hotel.

It is easy to lose count of the permit applications for boutique accommodation popping up practically around every corner. With no exaggeration, there soon will be more boutique hotels than residents in Valletta: exclusive accommodations such as Ursulino, Casa Ellul, SU29 and Palazzo Consiglia are now competing for distinguished clientele with La Falconeria, De Vilhena, Valletta Boutique Living, Valletta Vintage and a dozen more boutique hotels-to-be. Barbara Bastions can now be safely renamed into Boutique Bastions (or Mark Weingard’s Bastions) since only a couple of houses in that location are not being converted into exclusive accommodation of some kind.

The construction works were criticised by the local council as “the worst siege ever” and slammed by the residents, the heritage organizations and the intelligentsia alike—albeit for contrasting reasons.

[beautifulquote align=”left” cite=””]It is not the developments of boutique hotels as such that the “baroque or nothing” heritage activists protest, but the obscure developers who are detested for their opportunism and ‘cultural unawareness’.[/beautifulquote]

Whereas the residents have to endure the non-stop sounds of drilling, the cranes above their roofs and the clouds of dust, the reasons for critique from the heritage activists and the creative class are not as straight-forward. It is not the developments of boutique hotels as such that the “baroque or nothing” heritage activists protest, but the obscure developers who are detested for their opportunism and ‘cultural unawareness’.

The creative crowd predictably whines about the visual aspects of the developments: the cranes distorting the skyline, the disappearance of venerated shabbiness and the heavy presence of ‘scruffy’ workers, so unpleasant to their ‘aesthetically sensitive’ taste. On the other hand, the ever-growing number of boutique accommodations provides a perfect opportunity for implementing interior designer skills and entrepreneurial ambitions—the traits highly respected by the tasteful critics. Thus, once the cranes, the trucks and the workers are gone, leaving behind a new deliciously designed hotel, the critique is immediately replaced by ovations and excitement at the prospects of welcoming the esteemed guests.

Gentrification of Valletta is not only barely spoken about but is openly celebrated. Same is true about the Three Cities—Senglea, Cospicua and Birgu.

It certainly is positive that the buildings of such beauty and history are being restored, yet it is equally sad that the restoration of these buildings is deemed worthy only if it promises solid investment returns. Besides, the ’boutiquefication’ of Valletta reduces the residents and the everyday life to a decorative view from a holiday room.

The Capital of Whose Culture?

Another unsubtle declaration of what kind of culture is to be respected came from the artistic director of Teatru Malta, Sean Buhagiar. A few months before the announcement of snap elections delivered Malta into fever, he had urged the Prime Minister to abstain from disturbing “the culture” with such an non-creative event as general elections. Sadly, this point of view is shared by the various creative professionals—artists, designers, performers—to whom Valletta2018 is, first and foremost, an opportunity to impress an eminent international audience with their presumably high degree of creativity.

The employment and career offered by V18 are certainly among its positive aspects, yet the statements like those uttered by Sean Buhagiar are indeed irritating, because they refuse to acknowledge any other definition of culture except from artistic performances (which he and his colleagues play an imperative role in). Sure, the demand for sophisticated entertainment is at the core of the middle- and upper-class cultural habits yet culture, in its broad sense, is not equivalent to the consumption of concerts, performances and exhibitions.

Sincerely, I have lost count of Valletta-related arguments to disagree with.

I disagree with sentimental conservationists who mourn the Valletta of crumbling facades and regard it as far more dignified than Valletta restored. While shabbiness might appear particularly spiritual to spectators, to many residents it simply signifies poverty and the inability to carry out restoration works on their own.

I disagree that the only way to restore Valletta is to convert it into a host of exclusive guest houses for the privileged caste, trendy bars and luxurious shopping outlets. The Valletta of boutique hotels would be hollow and soulless. The void of community spirit, which makes every city so unlike any other, would be replaced by temporary visitors who don’t have a profound relationship with the city. It would turn locals and their households into somebody’s room with a view. Yet, how can Valletta resurrect as a city with its own vibrant community life, if properties here are out of reach for the majority of the population?

Finally, I disagree with reducing Valletta to a backdrop for upmarket entertainment and tasteful consumption wrapped into “the European Capital of Culture 2018” package. As any other place, Valletta does not lack culture of its own. On the contrary, it has plenty of it—the little mundane rituals of “hello” and “how are you?”, the feasts, the relationships between the people whom Valletta comforts and makes feel at home. Unlike the pre-packaged commodified experiences offered by hipster culture and V18, the culture of daily participation cannot be exhibited at a museum or performed on stage—it cannot be experienced in any way other than becoming a part of its fabric. Too bad this kind of culture does not offer profitable returns and hence is not held in high regard.