Malta Parliament Tackles Speed Demons: Confiscation, €1k Fines & 5-Year Bans in New Road-Crackdown Law

**Tougher measures against reckless drivers go before parliament**

After yet another summer marked by twisted metal on our roads, Parliament will finally debate a sweeping package of amendments designed to scare speed merchants into behaving. The draft law, tabled by Transport Minister Aaron Farrugia on Monday, would let courts confiscate and auction vehicles used in street-racing, double demerit points for repeat offenders, and introduce on-the-spot €1,000 fines for anyone caught doing more than 50 km/h over the limit. If passed, magistrates will also gain the power to suspend licences for up to five years—removing the current 18-month cap that critics say is little more than a slap on the wrist.

The timing is no accident. With 22 road deaths so far this year—four of them in a single August weekend—Minister Farrugia admitted that “the culture of impunity has gone unchecked too long.” The statistics are even grimmer when you zoom out: between 2010 and 2022, 395 people lost their lives on Malta’s 3,000 km network, a per-capita rate double that of the EU average. In a country where the farthest you can drive is roughly the length of a marathon, every fatal crash ripples through extended families, village feasts, and WhatsApp groups within minutes.

Yet numbers alone don’t capture the uniquely Maltese cocktail that fuels the madness: narrow, sun-bleached roads built for donkey carts, a youthful fleet of turbo hatchbacks financed by easy credit, and a swaggering bravado immortalised in 1980s ġostra videos. Add a booming population squeezed into Europe’s densest urban sprawl and you get gridlock frustration that erupts the moment traffic thins. “Our grandfathers celebrated horsepower with festa fireworks; their grandsons do it with burnout smoke,” quips Sliema driving instructor Karlene Sant. “The difference is one ends in applause, the other in ambulance sirens.”

The proposed clampdown has already split the island along predictable fault-lines. On Facebook groups like “Malta Car Enthusiasts,” moderators warn that “the government is criminalising passion,” while mothers’ collectives such as “Victims of Road Violence” counter that “a licence is a privilege, not a God-given right to kill.” In bars from Marsa to Mellieħa, arguments rage over whether confiscation breaches fundamental property rights enshrined in the Constitution. Legal experts, however, point to existing drug laws that allow police to seize speedboats used for trafficking. “If we can confiscate a smuggler’s yacht, we can confiscate a boy-racer’s BMW,” argues constitutional lawyer Therese Comodini Cachia.

Beyond the courtroom, the reforms could reshape daily rituals. Village festa committees fear that banning convicted drivers from the roads will deprive brass bands of their youngest trumpet players. Conversely, bus commuters dream of faster journeys once joy-riders think twice before treating Regional Road as a drag strip. Gozitan farmers welcome the prospect of quieter nights; many have lost sheep to midnight racers on unlit country lanes. Meanwhile, insurance brokers are bracing for a spike in third-party premiums if under-25s can no longer spread risk across named drivers.

Whether the measures survive committee stage intact depends on backbench nerves ahead of next year’s European elections. Government sources hint at a possible concession: first-time offenders who attend a re-education course modelled on Malta’s drink-driving programme may reclaim their wheels after six months. But with the Nationalist opposition vowing to table even harsher amendments—mandatory jail for hit-and-run drivers—cross-party consensus looks likely. As Transport Committee chair Rebekah Borg told Times of Malta, “Nobody wants to campaign on a platform of dead teenagers.”

For families like the Camilleris of Żejtun, whose 19-year-old son Kurt was killed by a speeding Audi in 2021, the debate is long overdue. “We’re not asking for blood,” Kurt’s father said outside Parliament after presenting a 12,000-signature petition. “We’re asking for brake lights instead of candles.” If MPs heed his plea, Malta’s love affair with the accelerator may finally shift down a gear—before another empty chair at Sunday lunch becomes the price of someone else’s thrill.