Malta Leads EU in Support for Enlargement: ‘More Friends, More Bridges’ Say Islanders

Maltese most likely to believe their country would benefit from EU enlargement – and they’re not shy about saying it

Walk past any kazin in Birkirkara at sunset and you’ll hear the same spirited debate that’s been echoing across the islands since 2004: “Kemm se jkun ahjar Malta b’aktar pajjiżi fil-UE?” According to the latest Eurobarometer survey released this week, 74 % of Maltese respondents believe further EU enlargement would be “a good thing” for Malta—well above the EU average of 55 % and the highest score registered among all 27 member states.

For a nation that only shook off colonial rule in 1964 and spent decades guarding its fragile neutrality, the finding is striking. Yet on the ground the sentiment feels almost obvious. From Ħamrun’s family-run printing presses that now export festival posters to Romania, to the University of Malta’s medical school where Serbian and Ukrainian researchers share labs overlooking the Grand Harbour, enlargement is not an abstract Brussels dossier—it’s the next chapter in a success story most Maltese feel they co-authored.

“Every wave of new members has brought us more students, more tourists and, frankly, more customers,” says Stephanie Borg, whose Valletta boutique sells handmade filigree jewellery. Last summer she shipped 40 % of her online orders to Croatia and Slovenia—markets she barely registered before they joined the EU. “When people say ‘enlargement’, I just hear ‘opportunity’.”

The cultural ripple effects are just as visible. Sliema’s once-quiet side streets now hum with Polish bakeries and Bulgarian wine bars. At the Marsaxlokk Sunday fish market, Albanian families queue alongside Maltese nannas for lampuki, swapping recipes in accented Maltese that the older women greet with delight rather than suspicion. Language classes at the Malta College of Arts, Science & Technology report waiting lists for introductory Maltese—driven largely by new arrivals who want to read festa banners and follow village gossip.

Not everyone is uncritical. Some social-housing advocates warn that rapid population growth strains already scarce apartments, pushing rents beyond the reach of young Maltese couples. “We need enlargement that works for everyone, not just landlords,” insists Andre Callus from the housing NGO Moviment Graffitti. Yet even critics concede that EU structural funds—topped up after each enlargement round—have financed social projects from Gozo’s new dementia day-centre to the solar-panel roofs blooming above historic townhouses.

Politically, the pro-enlargement mood cuts across party lines. Prime Minister Robert Abela told parliament last month that welcoming Western Balkan states is “a moral duty rooted in our own experience of isolation.” Opposition leader Bernard Grech echoed the theme at a PN youth forum, recalling how Maltese migrants once relied on open doors in Australia and Canada. The rare bipartisan harmony reflects a national narrative: small islands survive by staying connected.

The church, still a moral compass for many, has also weighed in. Archbishop Charles Scicluna used his Sunday homily at St John’s Co-Cathedral to praise “a Europe enlarged not only in geography but in solidarity.” His words resonated with parishioners like 68-year-old Maria Vella from Qormi, who volunteers with the Migrants Commission. “My grandmother hid British pilots during the war because they were fighting for freedom. Today we give that same welcome to people escaping other conflicts.”

Looking ahead, Maltese enthusiasm could shape the next EU summit in June, where accession talks with Ukraine and Moldova are on the table. Diplomats say Malta—now enjoying a rare moment as the bloc’s most enlargement-friendly member—may lobby to fast-track reforms rather than impose new hurdles. For a country long accustomed to being the smallest voice in the room, that is heady stuff.

Back in the kazins, the debate will rumble on over pastizzi and Cisk. But the consensus is clear: in Malta, enlargement is not about losing sovereignty; it is about multiplying friendships. And on an island where every horizon ends in water, more friends mean more bridges—exactly what the nation has been building since the first Phoenician sailors dropped anchor in Marsaxlokk bay.