Fortina land scandal: How Sliema’s seabed was sold until 2134 without public call

Fortina land deal shows ‘systemic corruption’ – Repubblika
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Sliema’s glittering promenade, where elderly residents still recite rosaries on sea-front benches while influencers pose for sunset selfies, has become the latest theatre in Malta’s never-ending drama over public land. On Tuesday morning, as cruise passengers queued for ftira stalls nearby, activists from Repubblika laid a symbolic “For Sale” sign across the iron railings of the Fortina hotel’s lido and declared that a 2019 concession extension amounts to “textbook systemic corruption”.

The NGO presented a 42-page dossier alleging that the owners of the four-star Fortina were quietly given an extra 65 years on a 2006 emphyteutical lease without a public call, pushing the expiry date to 2134. The concession covers 6,500 m² of prime seabed and foreshore where the hotel has already erected swimming pools, sun-decking and a floating water-sports centre. Repubblika claims the extension was approved by cabinet on 20 March 2019, three weeks before the last election, and published only in the Government Gazette’s summer recess edition, guaranteeing minimum scrutiny.

“Public land is not a political party’s piggy-bank,” Repubblika president Robert Aquilina told a crowd of fifty activists, tourists and bemused hotel guests. “Every Maltese child who dives off the Sliema rocks is effectively trespassing on a private lease that stretches into the next century.” The group has asked the Standards Commissioner, the Auditor General and the European Public Prosecutor’s Office to investigate whether state aid rules were breached.

Local context: land as identity
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In Malta, the phrase “il-art ta’ wliedna” (the land of our forefathers) is more than folklore; it is the emotional engine of village feasts, hunting traditions and the stubborn insistence on owning one’s own roof. Yet the country’s 316 km² are among Europe’s most coveted square kilometres. Since 2013, direct sales and emphyteutical concessions have transferred roughly 1.5 million m² of public land into private hands, according to NGO calculations—an area larger than Valletta itself.

The Fortina case stings because Sliema has already watched its Art-Nouveau villas replaced by glass towers that block afternoon shade to elderly residents. The town’s name derives from “sliem”, peace—an irony not lost on 72-year-old pensioner Tarcisio Zahra, who has swum daily at the Tigné rocks since 1962. “First they built the block opposite my mother’s house, now they own the sea underneath my feet,” he shrugs, goggles in hand. “Where does it stop?”

Cultural significance: the beach as commons
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Maltese legal custom treats the foreshore as “public domain” under Roman law, yet concessions have been granted since the Knights of St John leased quays to corsair captains. What changed is scale and transparency. Social-media satirist “Il-Kakkafikk” captured the mood with a meme showing Grand Master Pinto morphing into a modern minister stamping “APPROVED” on a swimming pool shaped like a euro sign. Within 24 hours it had 14,000 shares—roughly the population of Sliema itself.

Community impact: who gets the sunset?
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Hotel management insists the extension allowed €15 million in upgrades that created 80 jobs. “We turned a derelict concrete platform into an accessible lido used by hundreds of families,” director Jeremy Pace told Times of Malta in 2021. Yet neighbouring bar owners report rent hikes of up to 40 % since the concession, as investors gamble on further tourist footfall. “My clientele used to be locals buying a €2 kinnie after work,” says one kiosk vendor who asked not to be named. “Now I sell €8 smoothies to yachties. I make more money, but I lost my neighbourhood.”

Repubblika’s complaint also notes that the concession fee—reportedly €1.2 million lump sum for 65 years—works out at roughly €50 per square metre: less than the price of a pizza in the hotel’s own restaurant. By contrast, a 2022 court auction for a 200 m² apartment in Tigné fetched €1.6 million.

Political reaction
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Tourism Minister Clayton Bartolo declined an on-camera interview, but a ministry spokesperson said “all procedures were followed” and invited critics to “read the contract”, which is not yet publicly available. Opposition MP Karol Aquilina called for an urgent parliamentary inquiry, while Greens candidate Sandra Gauci urged the government to publish a national land-register within six months. Meanwhile, EPPO confirmation that the case is “under evaluation” has sent a ripple through Labour WhatsApp groups fearful of another Vitals-style fallout.

Conclusion: the tide keeps coming
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Whether or not criminality is proven, the Fortina saga has again exposed the achilles heel of Maltese governance: the concentration of decision-making in the hands of a few, the opacity of public contracts, and the asymmetry between the quick profits of development and the slow rewards of civic life. As afternoon shadows lengthen over the Sliema front, elderly swimmers still cling to rocks that may legally belong to a corporation until their great-grandchildren are dead. The sea, at least, remains defiantly public—until the next cabinet meeting.