Malta’s planning rule-book stuck in 2007: Local Plan rewrite delayed until 2026

Local plan revision to ‘hopefully’ start in two years’ time – PA CEO

The man who effectively writes Malta’s planning rule-book has admitted that the long-overdue overhaul of the island’s Local Plans will “hopefully” begin only in 2026 – a full 17 years after they were last updated and six years after government promised a root-and-branch review.

Speaking to journalists after a public consultation event in Valletta, Planning Authority CEO Oliver Magri said the authority is still “fine-tuning the procurement process” for consultants who will redraw the maps that decide where high-rises can sprout, where villas must give way to apartments, and where fields can be tarmacked.

“Realistically, we are looking at 2026 for the kick-off,” Magri said, stressing that the new plans must be “evidence-based, climate-resilient and people-centred”. The comment drew audible sighs from NGOs and residents’ groups who have spent the best part of a decade warning that Malta is planning its future with a compass drawn before Instagram, Airbnb and electric scooters existed.

The six local plans – last tweaked in 2007 – still list film-processing shops and video-rental outlets as valid commercial uses, while remaining silent on short-let tourist flats, data centres and the three-storey basements that have become the archipelago’s architectural signature. In the meantime, more than 60,000 new residents have been added to the electoral roll, traffic has ballooned by 38 % and the average price of a three-bedroom flat has doubled.

Cultural stakes

For Maltese, land is not merely an asset; it is identity. The limestone terrace, the carob-framed field wall, the village core whose narrow streets echo festa marches – these are the settings of memories, not postcards. Yet every week brings a fresh Facebook group titled “Save our views” or “Stop this tower”, usually triggered by a PA notice taped to a façade announcing another “PA/” application number that neighbours recite like a curse.

“The plans are frozen in 2007, but the cranes didn’t get the memo,” quips architect and TV presenter Robert Musumeci, whose 2019 petition demanding a moratorium on high-rise outside designated zones gathered 30,000 signatures in a week. “We are using a Nokia manual to run an iPhone economy.”

Community fatigue

In Gżira, residents have watched the 37-floor Mercury Tower dominate the skyline once punctuated only by the baroque dome of Manoel Island chapel. In Marsaskala, fishermen’s storehouses have been converted into €800,000 “loft-style” townhouses advertised to Nordic digital nomads. In Rabat, farmers still irrigate vines with water drawn from Roman aqueducts, but wake up to find new ODZ applications pinned to their gates.

“People are exhausted,” says Suzanne Mizzi, spokesperson for campaign group Moviment Graffitti. “We turn up to hearings, we object, we win – then a slightly taller, slightly bulkier proposal appears six months later. The current plans are so vague they allow perpetual reinterpretation.”

What happens next?

The PA says the 2026 timeline will allow “extensive public co-design”, including pop-up labs in village band clubs, TikTok explainers and even Minecraft servers where teenagers can build their ideal town. Critics retort that similar promises preceded the 2006 rationalisation of ODZ boundaries – which ultimately added three million square metres to the development zone.

Meanwhile, the economy is galloping. Government targets 65,000 more residents by 2040, the tourism master-plan envisages 4 million annual visitors, and Tech.Malta wants 100,000 m² of new data-centre floor space. Without updated maps, each project will continue to be decided case-by-case, leaving communities scrambling to fund architects and lawyers every time a developer eyes their orchard.

Back in Valletta, Oliver Magri insists the wait will be worth it. “We get one shot at this for the next generation,” he says, clutching a coffee cup stamped “Made for walking” – a souvenir from a pedestrianisation conference. Outside, delivery vans block the newly laid granite slabs, their drivers honking at tourists who wander across the road scrolling Google Maps – still showing a car park where the open-air piazza now stands.

Conclusion

Whether the 2026 revision becomes a blueprint for sustainable living or another dusty shelf ornament depends less on procurement schedules and more on political will. In a country where every square metre has a cousin who knows a cousin, the true test will be whether the final maps favour the common good over the common profit. Until then, Maltese will keep measuring their future in crane shadows, one PA notice at a time.