So we enjoyed the day off, the prime minister’s and the president’s fanfares were played and the flag of the republic of Mauritius was hoisted at full mast, followed by a 21-gun salute. Police helicopters flew past, local artists displayed their talent and a splendid fireworks show followed. And, we felt a tinge of pride creep into our lives as we sang the national anthem as enn seul pays, enn seul nation, enn seul destin (one country, one nation, one destiny). Congratulations Mauritius! You have just turned 46.

As a nation on the wrong side of 40, we are no longer the carefree young girl who can get away with silly giggles and misplaced pride. We are middle-aged now and are accountable for our acts and their implications. So, we choose to be harsh on ourselves and question the disconnect between the values we shout on the rooftops and how we practise them in our daily lives. And we choose to be harsher on ourselves when we try to hog the limelight with fancy slogans which our immediate actions undermine. We choose therefore to reflect on an issue which, at times, undercuts our nationalism.

Two highly mediatised actions stood out as soon as we started thinking about nationalism. First, Resistans ek alternativ’s appeal before the Privy Council (PC), to write new legislation into our laws which would allow citizens to stand for election as Mauritians without having to disclose their ethnic appurtenance. Second, the equally high profile case of Rajah Madhewoo, who took legal action against the new identity card, threatening to go all the way to the PC. Never mind if the first action – even if it were to result in a positive denouement – would not put an end to the Best Loser System, let alone make a dent in our inherently communal-based politics – just attend any press conference on Saturday and find out for yourself. Never mind if the second action is futile and irrelevant. What these two cases have in common is that the initiators both claim that their motivations are of a national nature. In the same breath, however, both want their issues resolved outside the nation, in the British PC! Isn’t it ironical that to prove our nationalism, we resort to the last vestige of colonialism to determine our national policy? The ultimate irony was that, in the first case, it was the PC itself which had to point out to us that it had no locus standi; in other words, our national policy is none of their business – a little slap on the wrist which cost the Mauritian taxpayer three million rupees… On this anniversary, we would like to refl ect on the need and pertinence of retaining the option of going to the PC. We are now grown up and should follow the example of other former colonies, which have revamped their judiciary, opted out of the PC and have taken full responsibility for their own national decisions. Even dominion states – like Australia, Canada and New Zealand – which still accept the queen as their head of state – have opted out. As for republics like India, Pakistan, Singapore, Malaysia, etc., the issue was settled in the 1990s.

At the age of 46, we should look each other in the eye and ask ourselves one question: In how many countries in the world do citizens have to obtain a visa to gain access to their fi nal court? If the answer deals a blow to the pride we felt singing our national anthem, let’s use the opportunity to grow up. Isn’t it time?