Fortina Scandal Explodes: MP Demands Public Inquiry as Maltese Fear Losing Sacred Swimming Haven to Luxury Development

**Alex Borg Demands Public Inquiry into Fortina Land Transfer Scandal**

Nationalist Party MP Alex Borg has thrown a political grenade into the summer lull, demanding a full public inquiry into the controversial transfer of prime Fortina seafront land to a private developer. The call comes after fresh revelations that the 2019 deal, which handed over 2,800 square metres of public coastline for a symbolic €1,200 annual ground rent, may have bypassed proper tendering procedures.

Standing before the iconic Tigné Point lighthouse on Tuesday morning, Borg brandished what he claimed were “explosive” internal government emails suggesting political pressure influenced the Lands Authority’s decision. “This isn’t just about paperwork – it’s about our children’s right to enjoy the same sunsets their grandparents watched from those rocks,” the MP declared, gesturing toward the development site where cranes now dominate the Sliema skyline.

The Fortina promenade, stretching from the picturesque Font Ghadir bathing spots to the historic Stella Maris church, has long served as Malta’s unofficial outdoor living room. Generations of families have gathered on its limestone steps, children leaping into crystalline waters while elders play cards under makeshift umbrellas fashioned from driftwood and canvas. Local fishermen still cast lines from the same weathered rocks their fathers and grandfathers used, sharing morning gossip with early swimmers who brave the winter waves.

“This was our paradise,” reminisces 78-year-old Carmen Spiteri, who’s lived in nearby Tower Road for five decades. “We’d come here after Sunday mass, spread our towels on the flat rocks, and stay until the street lights flickered on. Now we need binoculars to see the sea past those concrete monsters.”

The development, approved by the Planning Authority in 2021, promises luxury apartments starting at €1.2 million, a five-star hotel, and commercial outlets. Critics argue it creates a “wall of money” blocking sea access for ordinary Maltese, while supporters claim it will boost tourism and create jobs. The project’s architects have incorporated a “public walkway” into their designs, though locals question whether this token gesture compensates for losing their beloved swimming haven.

Tourism operator Maria Camilleri, who runs boat trips from Sliema Ferries, worries about the precedent. “First Fortina, then what’s next? Għar Lapsi? Wied iż-Żurrieq? We’re selling our soul piece by piece,” she laments, watching her grandchildren play where she once learned to swim. “Tourists don’t come here for Dubai-style towers – they want authentic Malta, the real Mediterranean lifestyle we’re destroying.”

The scandal has reignited debate about Malta’s construction boom and public land privatization. Environmental NGOs report that over 40% of Malta’s accessible coastline has been developed in the past decade, with traditional bathing spots increasingly fenced off or monetized. The Fortina case particularly stings because the land was classified as “public domain” in 2018, supposedly protecting it in perpetuity.

Borg’s inquiry demand has found unlikely allies across party lines. Labour backbencher Rosianne Cutajar broke ranks to support transparency, while Alternattiva Demokratika called for a moratorium on coastal development. The Chamber of Architects weighed in too, questioning how a €1,200 annual rent reflects market value for prime Sliema waterfront property.

As summer temperatures soar and Maltese families seek sea relief, the Fortina controversy crystallizes broader anxieties about national identity. “We’re becoming strangers in our own country,” reflects local teacher David Pace, watching construction workers pour concrete where he proposed to his wife. “Every crane represents another piece of Malta we’ll never get back.”

Whether Borg’s inquiry materializes remains uncertain. What seems clear is that Fortina has become more than a local land dispute – it’s a referendum on what kind of Malta emerges from the construction frenzy. As the Mediterranean sun sets behind developing cranes, one question haunts the nation: when the last rock is sold, where will Maltese children learn to swim?