Borg’s Big Win: How Malta’s New Business Boss Is Blending Pastizzi & Policy

Valletta’s sun-drenched Upper Barrakka Gardens buzzed with handshakes, selfies and the unmistakable scent of pastizzi yesterday afternoon as Alex Borg was officially congratulated on his razor-thin victory to lead the Malta Chamber of Commerce, Enterprise and Industry. In a scene that felt part political rally, part village festa, party leaders, seasoned lobbyists and family friends climbed the historic limestone steps to salute the 42-year-old entrepreneur who now steps into one of the most influential non-political posts on the islands.

Prime Minister Robert Abela arrived flanked by a brass band from Żejtun—an exuberant touch locals joked was “more Carnival than Congress”—and hailed Borg as “a bridge between boardrooms and band clubs.” Opposition leader Bernard Grech, never one to miss a crowd, quipped that “even the PN canteen is serving ħobż biż-żejt in Alex’s honour today,” earning laughter from journalists who have long chronicled the Chamber’s bipartisan pull.

The congratulations were more than ceremonial. Borg’s win, decided by just 37 votes after two recounts, has electrified a business community still nursing bruises from pandemic shutdowns and inflationary tremors. “Alex understands the language of both the garage start-up and the shipyard,” said Marisa Micallef, president of the Malta Hotels and Restaurants Association, summing up a widely shared sentiment. Lobbyists from gaming, aviation and construction circled beneath the orange trees, swapping cards as if the gardens had turned into an open-air marketplace of influence.

Yet beneath the back-slapping lay a distinctly Maltese story of roots and reach. Raised in a three-generation Rabat bakery famous for its imqaret, Borg left an engineering degree to scale his family’s almond-stuffed pastries into a national e-commerce brand. His campaign slogan—“From Forni to Frontiers”—was printed on canvas tote bags that flew off the Chamber’s gift shop shelves. Yesterday, elderly aunts in lace faldettas stood beside blockchain lobbyists in tailored suits, proving the slogan’s resonance.

Cultural historian Dr. Graziella Briffa, sipping Kinnie on the sidelines, noted that Borg’s victory taps into a deeper Maltese archetype: the “ħanut tal-belt” who parlays village grit onto a European stage. “We love the idea that someone who still greets you with ‘Bonġu, ħi’ can also negotiate EU Recovery Funds,” she laughed. That duality was on full display when Tourism Minister Clayton Bartolo presented Borg with a hand-painted tile from Ta’ Qali artisans, urging him to “carry Malta’s colours into every Brussels meeting room.”

The immediate community impact is already visible. Within hours of the result, the Rabat Local Council announced plans to reopen the disused train station near Borg’s childhood bakery as a co-working hub, funded jointly by the Chamber and EU rural-development money. Mayor Sandro Azzopardi called it “a signal that success in Valletta doesn’t have to mean forgetting your street.” Meanwhile, youth NGO JEF Malta launched an internship programme named after Borg’s late father, offering stipends to sixth-formers who pitch sustainable pastry packaging. “We’re literally folding tradition into innovation,” said coordinator Carla Zahra, holding up a biodegradable box stamped with the Maltese cross.

Not everyone joined the chorus. Small-shop owners in Gozo grumbled that Borg’s digital-first agenda might favour “the big guys,” and a handful of environmental NGOs warned that cosy ties with the construction lobby could soften green regulations. Yet even critics conceded that Borg’s first act—pledging to publish quarterly lobbying logs online—was a nod to transparency that previous Chamber heads avoided.

As the afternoon shadows lengthened across the Grand Harbour, Borg took the microphone beneath a fluttering Maltese flag. Speaking in Maltese first, then English, and finally throwing in a phrase of Italian for the visiting cruise passengers, he promised “a Chamber that smells not only of paperwork but of fresh bread.” The crowd erupted; a spontaneous chant of “Viva l-Artiġjanat” rose up, echoing off honey-coloured bastions that have watched centuries of mercantile ambition.

By sunset, the band struck up a jaunty marċ tal-festa, confetti cannons fired almond-scented paper, and Valletta’s skyline flickered with drone lights spelling “Grazzi Alex.” For one balmy evening, politics, pastry and possibility merged into the unmistakable flavour of contemporary Malta—ambitious, rooted, and deliciously complex.