PM unaware of Israeli planes’ ‘irregular’ airspace use in central Mediterranean

PM Unaware: Israeli Jets’ ‘Irregular’ Use of Maltese Skies Sparks Island-Wide Debate
By Hot Malta Newsroom

Valletta’s Upper Barrakka Gardens were unusually busy on Tuesday evening, not with tourists snapping sunset photos, but with Maltese families debating the same question: how did foreign military aircraft slip through our airspace without the Prime Minister even knowing?

The revelation came during a terse parliamentary exchange on Monday night when Opposition MP Darren Carabott asked whether Malta’s Air Traffic Services had logged “irregular flight patterns” by Israeli Air Force jets over the central Mediterranean in recent weeks. Transport Minister Aaron Farrugia confirmed that two “non-scheduled military movements” – flying at altitudes normally reserved for civilian traffic and squawking civilian transponder codes – had been detected. Pressed on whether Prime Minister Robert Abela had been briefed, Farrugia replied: “To the best of my knowledge, the Office of the Prime Minister was not informed.”

Cue gasps on both sides of the House. For an island whose national identity is stitched together by centuries of foreign domination – Phoenicians, Knights, British, take your pick – the notion that outside powers can still glide overhead unchecked strikes a raw nerve.

Local context: Malta’s FIR (Flight Information Region) stretches across a swathe of sea almost 20 times the size of the island itself, a strategic corridor linking Europe, North Africa and the Levant. Since Independence in 1964, every government has guarded that patch of sky jealously; it is, after all, one of the few sovereign assets we possess that is genuinely larger than life. The Armed Forces of Malta (AFM) operate two Beechcraft King Air patrol planes, but their primary role is search-and-rescue, not mid-air interception. When the Israeli jets appeared, Malta had to rely on NATO’s Italian detachments in Sigonella for confirmation – a diplomatic courtesy that now feels uncomfortably like dependence.

Cultural significance: Ask any Maltese grandmother about “ħut is-sema” (literally “fish of the sky”) and she’ll launch into tales of wartime Luftwaffe formations and the 1942 convoy that saved the island from starvation. Our lullabies still carry the drone of distant engines. So when news broke on ONE Radio’s breakfast show, callers flooded the lines comparing the incident to 1940s “blackout drills” and quoting Dun Karm’s nationalist poem “Ġaħan mill-Ħerba”. By lunchtime, Times of Malta’s Facebook page had 3,000 comments, half in Maltese, half in English, all boiling down to one sentiment: “Fejn hu l-Gvern tagħna?” – Where is our Government?

Community impact: In Marsaxlokk, fishermen hauled up their nets on Tuesday morning and grumbled that the same radars failing to track fighter jets also miss half the Tunisian trawlers stealing lampuki. In Għargħur, the local band club postponed its traditional marċ tal-brijju to allow members to attend an emergency council meeting on “airspace sovereignty”. Even the island’s thriving expat Facebook groups – normally preoccupied with property prices and pastizzi rankings – pivoted to heated threads on international law. One user posted a meme of a Maltese sentry in 16th-century armour squinting at an F-35 with the caption: “Still waiting for the memo.”

Government response: A subsequent press release from Castille insisted Malta’s “diplomatic channels” were activated immediately after the sightings and that the Israeli Embassy had “clarified the operational necessity” of the flights. Yet no apology was issued, and no promise given that it will not happen again. Opposition Leader Bernard Grech called for a full public inquiry, while civil society NGO Repubblika announced a protest march from Parliament to the AFM base at Luqa under the banner: “Not in our sky.”

Conclusion: For an island whose history is written in limestone walls and watch towers built to scan the horizon for invaders, the idea that modern threats can simply bypass our defences – and our leadership – feels like an existential jolt. Whether the Prime Minister’s ignorance was a communications blunder or a deeper systemic gap, the episode has reminded Maltese citizens that sovereignty is not just a line on a map but a living conversation between government and governed. As the late poet Oliver Friggieri once wrote, “Il-ħolma ta’ pajjiż hu li jħoss ruhu jiddefendi lilu nnifsu.” A nation’s dream is to feel itself capable of defending its own. Until that dream feels secure again, the chatter in Upper Barrakka will carry on long after the sun has slipped behind the bastions.