FROM CONFESSION TO CORRUPTION: MALTA’S SHIFT
by Mario Attard
In Malta, the Catholic confessional was key to our values. It wasn’t just about confessing sins. It was about owning them. People faced their wrongs weekly. They sought forgiveness. They worked to do better. This cycle built trust. It fostered peace. Communities thrived because people felt responsible. Guilt wasn’t shame. It was a tool for growth.
Today, church pews are empty. Confessionals gather dust. Many Maltese rarely step inside a church. The habit of reflecting on actions is fading. Instead, society pushes a do-what-you-want mentality. It sounds nice. But it often means dodging accountability. If everyone’s truth is valid, who’s wrong? No one apologises. No one grows. We’re left with chaos.
Guilt is essential despite modern culture vilifying it. We’re told to feel good, not guilty. But guilt isn’t the enemy. It’s a signal. It tells us to pause, reflect, and change. Without it, we’re blind to our flaws. The Catholic confessional understood this. It gave people a space to confront mistakes. It taught humility. It built stronger communities with a tiny fraction of the criminal laws that we have today. Without the confessional, our government can’t keep up with crime and it keeps adding more criminal laws on the books. It’s a losing battle. Without the divinity, people and animals share common consequences that befit a society without a moral compass.
Malta increasingly needs this lesson. Freedom isn’t free. It comes with duties. If you hurt someone, own it. If you break trust, fix it. Guilt drives these actions. It’s not about feeling bad forever. It’s about doing better. The confessional showed us how. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. People faced their wrongs. They sought peace with God and neighbour.
Our politicians confess to mirrors, not priests. Result? Millions laundered, trust trashed. The Church’s old tool, guilt in the booth, beat corruption. Laws can only punish. It’s the confessional booth that has the better potential to prevent.
We can’t turn back time. But we can rethink guilt. It’s not a burden. It’s a gift. It reminds us we’re human. It binds us to others. Malta’s future depends on responsible citizens. Let’s embrace guilt again. Let’s confess our faults, not hide them. Only then can we rebuild trust. Only then can we find peace.
As one Maltese theologian put it, people dodge confession, chase godless truths. We see it in rising thefts and bribes. Government can’t legislate conscience. That’s God’s turf. In Malta of fifty years ago, confessionals buzzed. Courts yawned. Today, Malta’s Criminal Code runs over 400 pages long. In contrast, the Ten Commandments have always fit on less than one page.