Malta architects sound alarm: ‘Our construction addiction is destroying 7,000 years of heritage’

**Architects warn Malta’s construction frenzy is ‘eating the future’ – and the past**

Valletta – Walk down any village street at 6 a.m. and the soundtrack is identical: pneumatic hammers, steel cutters and the low rumble of trucks dumping limestone dust into the dawn. To many Maltese, the noise has become the heartbeat of a booming economy. To the people who actually design the islands, it is the death rattle of a culture built over 7,000 years.

“We are mining our own heritage,” architect and University of Malta lecturer Dr. Marguerite Pulè told *Hot Malta* during a break from a site visit in Sliema. “Every time we knock down a townhouse to throw up nine flats and three garages, we export another tonne of embodied carbon and import another tonne of fossil-fuelled concrete. The ledger is red, but nobody counts it until the wall cracks or the tenant faints from heat-stroke.”

Pulè is one of 400 members of Kamp Emerġenza Ambjent (KEA), a collective of architects, engineers and planners who last week released a scathing open letter titled *“The Construction Industry is Structurally Unsustainable”*. The document, delivered to Parliament and plastered across social media, accuses developers, banks and planning authorities of operating a “triangle of complicity” that rewards volume over longevity, turnover over tradition.

The numbers are stark. Since 2013, Malta has issued more than 26,000 new dwelling permits—roughly one for every 17 residents—yet census data show only 7 % of properties are permanently vacant. The rest are either short-let tourist flats, speculation safes or Airbnbs that have displaced 6,000 long-term renters in the past five years alone. Meanwhile, the islands’ per-capita carbon footprint from building materials has doubled, making construction the largest single contributor to national CO₂ emissions, ahead of aviation and shipping combined.

“Malta is the only EU state without mandatory life-cycle assessment for new builds,” notes Andre Callus, an architect who sits on the Planning Authority’s climate board. “We still calculate cost per square metre, not cost per square metre per decade. The result is thin hollow-brick facades that look photogenic for the brochure but bleed energy the moment the first summer hits.”

Cultural fallout is already visible. In Qormi, the 17th-century bakery district of Wied il-Kbir has lost 40 % of its original limestone façades since 2018, replaced by boxy grey cubes whose ground floors are garages, not bakeries. In Birgu, UNESCO warned that cruise-ship vibrations plus adjacent deep excavation could undermine the Knights-era bastions. Even the iconic wooden *galleriji* are disappearing; carpenters say owners rip them out because planning rules allow an extra internal metre if the balcony is “contemporary”.

Yet the industry defends its record. Developers’ Association president Michael Stivala argues that construction employs 22,000 people and contributes 8 % of GDP. “We are building the homes young couples demand,” he insists. “If we stop, we export our children instead of limestone.”

Architects counter that the choice is false. “We’re not against building; we’re against building badly,” says Maria Grech, co-founder of architecture studio WASL. Grech’s retrofit of a 1920s townhouse in Żabbar used recycled cork insulation, reclaimed terrazzo tiles and a roof garden that cuts cooling costs by 30 %. The project won EU funding and sold within days. “Heritage can pay if you treat it as infrastructure, not nostalgia,” she says.

Grass-roots momentum is growing. Last month, 500 residents formed human chains around three scheduled townhouses in Gżira, forcing PA to revoke demolition permits. A fortnight later, 1,000 students marched from Valletta to Floriana chanting *“Concrete is not progress”*. Even traditional festa committees—once cosy with contractors who sponsor fireworks—are switching sides. The St. Paul’s Bay band club now refuses donations from developers who exceed height limits, fearing *“our feast will dance in the shadow of a tower nobody loves”*.

Government has taken token steps: a €2 million grant for green roofs, a pilot scheme for embodied-carbon labelling, and a pledge to train 200 energy auditors. But KEA says the reforms ignore the *“elephant in the room”*: a 2016 loophole that allows developers to add two extra floors if they include a single “affordable” unit priced at €180,000—still triple the median annual wage.

For Pulè, the solution starts with storytelling. “We need to remind Maltese that sustainability is not a foreign import; it’s in our DNA,” she says, gesturing toward the thick rubble walls of a 400-year-old farmhouse that stays cool without air-conditioning. “Our grandparents built for 500-year storms and 50-degree summers. We build for next quarter’s balance sheet. One of those timelines is a fantasy; the other is our children’s reality.”

As the sun sets over Manoel Island, the clang of machinery finally pauses. For twelve seconds, swallows replace jackhammers. Then the floodlights switch on, and another crane swings into position, its shadow stretching across the limestone like a sundial counting down. Architects insist it is not too late to change course—but the cement is setting fast.