Another one bites the sand

Black Sabbath haircut, circa 1973

As Gaddafi's repressive regime draws its last breath in Tripoli, just over 200 miles to our south, all sorts of thoughts come to mind, mostly happy ones. Libya, Africa and the world will finally get rid of yet another crackpot dictator.

Six and a half million Libyans will express a sigh of relief. Or rather most of them will. On top of the graves of their loved ones, the martyrs who lost their lives for the cause, they can now plan to build a state of their own making.

We shall have to see what it will look like. But the most important thing is that the fall of Gaddafi will give them an opportunity to take their own destiny in hand for the first time in four decades.

On this joyous occasion I nevertheless harbour quite a bit of remorse. Why didn't we - no, why didn't I - speak against Gaddafi's repressiveness earlier and more vociferously? Why wasn't I more critical of the Maltese government and the opposition for being silent for so many decades about the miserable lives and deaths of our neighbours. Why didn't I take to the streets earlier to protest against the atrocities committed by the same bloodied hands our representatives and entrepreneurs were enthusiastically shaking to drum up business in Libya?

There is nothing to do now but to live with this remorse. The images of Libyans celebrating their liberation in Martyrs (formerly Green) Square are as happy and inspirational as they are a forceful and painful reminder of our capacity to turn a blind eye.