Why the Election Feels Like a Scene from ‘The Truman Show’

It’s 7 AM on a weekday, and I’m standing at the bus stop in Msida, Malta. The sun is barely up, but the usual morning chatter is replaced by an eerie silence. No one’s discussing the latest football match, no one’s complaining about the traffic. Instead, I see people checking their phones, scrolling through the same news articles, the same social media posts. The same surreal reality.

An Election Like No Other

The upcoming Maltese election is unlike any we’ve seen before. It’s not just about the parties or the candidates; it’s about the pandemic, the economy, our future. But more than that, it’s about the feeling that we’re all living in some sort of collective dream, or nightmare.

We’re used to elections being a buzz of activity, a time of hope and change. But this time, it’s different. The usual campaign posters are there, but they’re dwarfed by the constant reminders of the pandemic – the sanitiser dispensers, the social distancing signs. The election feels like an afterthought, a script written into our daily lives, but not quite fitting in.

Politics in the Time of COVID

The pandemic has changed everything. Our daily lives, our priorities, our fears. It’s natural that it would seep into our politics. But it’s also made the election feel… unreal. The issues that were once front and centre – the economy, immigration, corruption – they’re still there, but they’re overshadowed by the constant hum of the pandemic.

We’re told to stay home, to isolate, to protect ourselves and others. But we’re also told to go out and vote. It’s a contradiction that’s left many feeling confused, conflicted. It’s like we’re being asked to participate in a reality that doesn’t quite exist, at least not in the way we’re used to.

Voting in a Virtual World

Then there’s the voting itself. For the first time, we have the option to vote online. It’s convenient, it’s safe, but it’s also… disconcerting. Voting is a physical act, a tangible expression of our democracy. Doing it from behind a screen feels like we’re playing a part in a simulation, not a real-life election.

And the results? They’ll be announced online too. No more gathering at the party headquarters, no more watching the numbers roll in on a big screen. Instead, we’ll be watching from our living rooms, refreshing our browsers, waiting for the final tally. It’s a far cry from the communal spirit of an election night.

But perhaps that’s the point. Perhaps this election is a reflection of our times – isolated, uncertain, surreal. Perhaps it’s a reminder that we’re all in this together, even if we’re apart. Perhaps it’s a chance to reimagine our democracy, to make it more inclusive, more accessible, more… real.

So, as I stand here at the bus stop, waiting for my ride to the polling station, I can’t help but feel a sense of unease. But I also feel a sense of purpose. Because despite the strangeness, despite the surrealism, this is our reality. And it’s up to us to shape it, to make it real.

As I get on the bus, I look around at my fellow passengers. We’re all wearing masks, we’re all silent, but we’re all going to the same place. We’re all going to vote. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the most real thing about this election.