Breaking Malta’s Silence: How Proactive Suicide Prevention Is Weaving a Village-Sized Safety Net
Suicide: proactive prevention
How Malta is swapping silence for solidarity
By Laura Vella | 09 June 2024
The limestone walls of Valletta glow amber at sunset, but behind the honey-coloured facades many Maltese families carry a private shadow: suicide. For decades the subject was wrapped in a lace curtain of hushed whispers, Our-Lady-of-Sorrows novenas and the unspoken rule “ma taqbiżx il-kelma” – don’t utter the word. Today, that silence is cracking. From Għarb’s village band clubs to Gżira’s gaming offices, Malta is learning that preventing suicide is less about last-minute heroics and more about daily, deliberate connection.
A statistical snapshot, published last month by the National Statistics Office, shows 36 suspected suicides in 2023 – the lowest figure in a decade, yet still 36 tragedies too many. Behind each number lies a story rooted in unique Maltese realities: the pressure to keep up appearances at festa time, the loneliness of an imported workforce living in shared flats, the stigma still clinging to divorce and mental-health medication. “We’re a small island; reputations travel faster than the Tallinja bus,” says psychologist Dr. Daniela Muscat. “But that same smallness can become our super-power. When prevention is proactive, everyone can play a part.”
Proactivity starts early. In February, the Ministry for Education launched “Kuntatt”, a pilot programme in ten State schools teaching 11- to 14-year-olds emotional first-aid. Children rehearse asking a friend, “Hawn xi ħaġa li tħoss li trid titkellem fuqha?” – is there anything you’d like to talk about? – and practise guiding peers to trusted adults. Early results from St Clare College in Pembroke are encouraging: 74 % of pupils said they felt “more able” to help a friend in distress, and three early interventions were triggered before half-term.
Meanwhile, the workplace is emerging as the new frontier. igaming giant Catena Media has trained 40 “mental-health champions” across its Ta’ Xbiex hub. Employees can book a 20-minute “drop-in” with a champion, no questions asked, no HR loop. “Maltese companies used to offer a free gym pass and call it wellbeing,” notes HR manager Maria Camilleri. “We’ve moved to psychological safety: knowing you won’t lose your job if you admit you’re drowning.” Next month, the Malta Chamber of Commerce will unveil a toolkit so SMEs – from the corner pastizzeria to the five-man boat-charter start-up – can replicate the model without big budgets.
Faith communities, long perceived as part of the silence, are also pivoting. Last Good Friday, instead of the traditional sole sermon on suffering, the Archbishop invited Samaritans Malta to speak from the pulpit of St John’s Co-Cathedral. “Jesus met people in despair, not judgement,” Fr. Reuben told a packed nave. The Maltese Episcopal Conference has since circulated guidelines encouraging priests to say the word “suicide” during homilies, replacing euphemisms like “tragic event”. The gesture may sound symbolic, but therapists report a 30 % spike in helpline calls the following week – proof that language moves mountains.
Technology, too, is being harnessed before crisis hits. Local start-up “mChat” is piloting an AI-driven chatbot that picks up Maltese-English patois phrases such as “ma jimpurtax” (it doesn’t matter) when repeated with negative emojis. The bot then offers a one-click link to 1770, the national 24/7 helpline run by Richmond Foundation. In a country where 96 % of 18- to 30-year-olds own a smartphone, the hope is to catch the cry for help before it becomes a farewell message.
Yet the most Maltese ingredient of all remains il-ħbieb – the village grapevine. In Qormi, the St Sebastian feast volunteers now include a designated “listening post” under the yellow-and-green arch; anyone can pull up a plastic chair and unload. In Marsaxlokk, fishermen heading out at dawn leave extra coffee flasks for the colleague who didn’t sleep. These micro-moments, multiplied across 316 km², form a net tighter than any helpline.
If you’re reading this and wondering what you can do, start small. Ask your neighbour how the festa preparations are really going. Tell your colleague the door is open if the numbers on the spreadsheet start to blur with tears. Share the 1770 number on your WhatsApp status – it takes three seconds and might save a lifetime. Because on an island where everyone knows everyone, silence isn’t golden; it’s lethal. Proactive prevention is our new festa – and every Maltese is invited.
