Malta NGOs Launch ‘Ġustizzja għal Artna’ Campaign to Block Controversial Planning Reform

**”Ġustizzja għal Artna”: NGOs unite against planning reforms they say will “sell Malta to the highest bidder”**

Valletta’s Republic Street echoed with chants of “Mhux għalina, mhux għal uliedna!” yesterday as 14 Maltese environmental and heritage NGOs unfurled a 40-metre banner from the Upper Barrakka Gardens, launching the Ġustizzja għal Artna (Justice for Our Land) campaign against sweeping new planning reforms. The coalition—led by Din l-Art Ħelwa, Friends of the Earth Malta and Moviment Graffitti—warns that the government’s proposed amendments to the Development Planning Act will fast-track over-development, silence community voices and irreversibly scar the islands’ fragile landscape.

At the heart of the storm is Bill 2024/37, tabled quietly in Parliament last month. If approved, the law would shift final say on major projects from the Planning Authority board to a newly created “fast-track tribunal” appointed by the minister. Appeals would be capped at 30 days and decided by a single adjudicator, scrapping the current three-member appeals board that has repeatedly overturned controversial high-rise permits. Developers would also be allowed to pay an “in-lieu fee” to dodge affordable-housing quotas and archaeological monitoring.

“This is daylight robbery dressed up as efficiency,” said Andre Callus of Moviment Graffitti, addressing a crowd of 500 protestors clutching Maltese flags and olive branches. “They want to sell our limestone soul to the highest bidder.” Behind him, the honey-coloured bastions of the capital glowed in the afternoon sun—an ironic backdrop given that Valletta itself was saved from 1960s demolition plans by earlier grassroots campaigns.

The timing is no accident. With construction cranes crowding skylines from St Julian’s to Marsascala and EU pressure mounting to curb money-laundering through golden passports, the government argues that streamlining planning is vital for economic growth. Tourism figures released Tuesday show record arrivals—over 3.2 million last year—yet locals increasingly feel priced out of their own neighbourhoods. Rents in Sliema have jumped 68 % since 2019, while traditional townhouses in Birgu are being gutted for Airbnb lets.

For campaigners, the reforms strike at the core of Maltese identity. “Our festa feasts, our village cores, even our rabbit stew recipes—all of it depends on having space for community,” said Sandra Gauci of Flimkien għal Ambjent Aħjar, referencing the tight-knit band clubs that anchor each parish. She pointed to the recent demolition of the 19th-century Palazzo Tal-Bahar in Gżira to make way for a 38-storey tower approved under existing rules. “If this law passes, imagine what’s next.”

The NGOs are betting on a tried-and-tested tactic: mass mobilisation. Within hours of the protest, the hashtag #ĠustizzjagħalArtna trended top on Maltese Twitter, boosted by influencers like chef Rafel Sammut who posted a photo of his nanna’s Siggiewi kitchen with the caption “This is what we’re fighting for.” A TikTok video comparing Paceville’s 1990s skyline to today’s canyon of glass has racked up 200k views, mostly from 18-30-year-olds—the demographic most affected by housing shortages.

Opposition leader Bernard Grech addressed the crowd, pledging to vote against the bill, but activists remain wary of political co-option. Instead, they’re launching a nationwide door-knocking campaign this weekend, targeting swing Labour districts like Żabbar and Fgura where residents have clashed with developers over green-space loss. Signature stalls will also appear outside village festas—strategically timed for Santa Marija in mid-August when half the island returns to hometowns.

Already, cracks show in the government’s armour. Backbench MP Alex Muscat (Żebbuġ) broke ranks on Facebook Wednesday night, admitting the bill “needs more consultation.” Meanwhile, the Malta Developers Association denounced the NGOs for “scaremongering,” claiming the reforms will merely “cut red tape” and create 5,000 construction jobs.

But for Ramona Attard, a 34-year-old teacher from Qormi who marched with her two children, the stakes are personal. “My kids know the smell of għadam tal-ħmira from Nanna’s oven, but they don’t know the wheat fields where the flour came from,” she said, gesturing towards the Tigné skyline. “If we lose our land, we lose our stories.”

The bill faces its second reading on 12 September. Until then, the NGOs vow to keep the pressure up—with a human chain planned around Parliament on 7 September and a candlelit vigil at Dingli Cliffs the following week. As the sun set over the Grand Harbour, protestors sang the national anthem, voices carrying across the water like a warning shot.

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