I am still shocked at the news of the passing away of Maltese President Emeritus, Prof. Guido De Marco (1931-2010).
I am not much of a fan of politics, especially Maltese politics, which are heavily saturated with partisan sympathy. I do, however, admire several giants of politics in the local scene, and one of the foremost of these is Prof. Guido de Marco. In my childhood, I was referred to as 'Guido' by my relatives, thanks to the random abundance of hair I sported which was similar to what the Profs. had in the 80s, clearly a man who lived up to the sign of the times. Throughout the next 2 decades of my life, I developed an admiration for the statesman, whose achievements surpass by far those of many Maltese politicians; being President of the UN General Assembly and President of the Republic suffice in this regard.
Earlier last year, whilst in Malta before my starting my Ph.D., I devoured de Marco's The politics of persuasion and my admiration for the statesman continued to expand. Such a great figure in the world of law, a holder of such a prestigious position in the global and local scene, and yet his writing is not any more complex than that of a well-versed adult, devoid of any unnecessary articulation but simple and accurate and, most admirably, diplomatic and ethical in all its forms of criticism towards his opponent.
I recall one ordinary morning last year when I was heading up Republic Street in Valletta towards my workplace when I spotted de Marco walking, slightly bent but steadily with the aid of a walking stick, with an immaculate suit and sunglasses. I said, slightly louder than usual to make sure he would hear, "Good morning, Profs" to which he immediately nodded, smiled and replied, "Buon giorno." Indeed, that morning I was heading to my workplace, which was the architectural practice of his son-in-law and this led to the following serendipitous event.
At the office, I was lucky enough to befriend my boss's son, one of de Marco's nephews, who, during one random afternoon chat gathered my looking up towards his grandpa, promptly set up an informal meeting with the President Emeritus. Indeed, prior to my departure from Malta to London to embark on my Ph.D., I had the great privilege of spending 30-45 minutes with Guido, who welcomed me in the Orangerie, his Hamrun home-cum-office, with confident hospitality as if he had known me for years.
I recall that meeting vividly, where we discussed on-going world and local politics, terrorism, his vision of Malta's future, his colourful rival Mintoff, well-deserved criticism of the latter and equally warranted appreciation where applicable of the former premier, the obvious talk on architecture and the architectural profession in Malta, my vision of the latter, my upcoming Ph.D. and informal talk of how I know his nephew and son-in-law. The meeting came to an end after Guido signed (in his characteristic green ink) my copy of his autobiography, in which he wished me "a bright future in [my] service of architecture and of Malta."
I was wholly impressed by the grandness of the character, which I was of course expecting, but never knew that such a giant would combine with such handsome quantities diplomacy, modesty and charisma even before a complete stranger. In later years, Guido had clearly lost weight and was no secret that his health had been deteriorating, but during that time in his elegant office, I thought to myself that his physical persona had surely diminished over the years but only to provide more room for his ever-growing internal grandeur, which is not subject to the limitations of the physical realm.
I will cherish that September morning of 2009 for the rest of my life.
Rest in peace, Prof. de Marco and I assure you that I will do my best to keep up to your recommendation of serving the architectural profession and the mother nation which we both affectionately love: Malta.
