Malta’s Future in Your Hands: Public Urged to Join ENVISION2050 Consultation

**Public invited to shape Malta’s future in ENVISION2050 consultation**

Maltese citizens are being handed the microphone to help script the next chapter of the islands’ story. ENVISION2050, the national consultation launched last week by the Ministry for the Environment, Energy and Enterprise, is inviting everyone—from Gozitan farmers to Sliema start-ups—to paint a collective picture of what Malta should look like in 2050. Think of it as a nationwide brainstorming session over pastizzi and politics, but with the power to steer €2.3 billion in EU cohesion funds and national budgets for the next 27 years.

The process is refreshingly Maltese in flavour. Instead of dry online surveys alone, officials have set up pop-up “futuring” booths at village festas, community cafés in Birkirkara, and even a roaming kiosk that pitched up beside the Sunday fish market in Marsaxlokk. Residents can drop in, grab a coffee brewed from a moka pot, and stick coloured notes on giant maps: green for parks they dream of, blue for coastal walkways, gold for cultural spaces. Children at Skola Sajf are drawing solar-powered gondolas ferrying passengers across the Grand Harbour, while elderly kite-makers in Żejtun propose rooftop workshops to keep the centuries-old craft alive.

“Malta doesn’t need another glossy document that gathers dust,” insists Parliamentary Secretary Rebecca Buttigieg. “We want a living plan that smells of lampuki frying in August and echoes with Għanja folk verses.” The ministry has partnered with PBS to produce short TikTok clips in Maltese and English, fronted by local influencers like drag queen extraordinaire Tiffany Pisani and environmental activist Cami Appelgren. In less than a week the hashtag #Nhar2050 has racked up 1.8 million views—no small feat on an island of 520,000 residents.

Why the buzz? Because 2050 feels close enough to worry our children, yet far enough to dream big. The islands face existential questions: how to reconcile a booming iGaming sector with traffic-choked roads; whether high-rise towers will cast shadows on baroque parishes; if the azure window that collapsed in 2017 can be reborn as an artificial reef powered by wave energy. The consultation frames these dilemmas as creative challenges rather than zero-sum battles.

Take housing. Rather than simply asking “more or less apartments?”, facilitators invite citizens to re-imagine traditional townhouses with internal courtyards—à la Valletta’s 16th-century palazzi—retrofitted with grey-water systems and shared solar roofs. Students at MCAST have already prototyped 3D-printed limestone bricks that recycle construction waste, an innovation that could slash the carbon footprint of new builds. Meanwhile, Gozitan shepherds suggest tax incentives to convert abandoned rubble walls into agro-tourism hubs where visitors learn cheesemaking while invasive caper plants are cleared for pasture regeneration.

Cultural heritage is woven throughout. The consultation devotes an entire pillar to “intangible traditions”—the dialect lullabies of Qormi, the improvised verse of għana spirtu pront, the festa firework recipes guarded by rival parish clubs. One proposal gaining traction is a “living museum” app that uses augmented reality to overlay historical scenes onto present-day streets: knights jousting where Burger King now stands, or WWII refugees sheltering in the tunnels beneath Santa Venera. Local game developers are volunteering code, keen to export Maltese stories to Xbox and PlayStation.

Critics warn the exercise could amount to virtue-signalling unless binding legislation follows. “We’ve consulted before,” points out ADPD chairperson Sandra Gauci, referencing the 2015 public survey on hunting hours. “But when lobbyists pushed back, the will melted like an August ħobż biż-żejt left in the sun.” Government officials counter that ENVISION2050 will feed directly into the upcoming Development Planning Act amendments, scheduled for parliamentary debate in autumn. A citizens’ assembly of 100 randomly selected residents will monitor implementation, wielding the power to summon ministers for quarterly grillings that will be live-streamed—Malta’s very own Question Time, with pastizzi crumbs on the committee table.

For many, the emotional pull is personal. Eighty-two-year-old Giuseppina Cassar from Birżebbuġa recalls picnicking at Pretty Bay before the Freeport cranes dominated the horizon. “I want my great-grandchildren to swim without tar stuck to their feet,” she says, pinning a postcard of crystal-clear water onto the consultation wall. Her wish is tagged with dozens of supportive emojis from teenagers who learned about the session on Discord.

The consultation runs until 15 November, with town-hall debates in every locality, a travelling “ideas caravan” to Gozo, and an online portal that accepts voice notes in Maltese dialect. After the submissions are collated, Malta’s first “People’s Manifesto for 2050” will be unveiled during a national festival in Valletta’s Triton Square next spring—complete with aerial dancers hoisting LED drones shaped like migrating flamingos, a reminder that the islands’ future is still writable, one shared dream at a time.