Malta’s Political Shock: New PN CEO Sabine Agius Cabourdin to Work for Free

Sabine Agius Cabourdin will clock in this Monday as the Nationalist Party’s first-ever female CEO, but her monthly payslip will read a neat €0.00. The PN’s announcement late last night that the former central bank director has accepted a voluntary, unpaid role has set the island’s political WhatsApp groups alight and added a fresh twist to Malta’s favourite spectator sport: party politics.

In a country where the phrase “ħadd ma jaħdem b’xejn” (nobody works for free) is practically a national proverb, the decision is both headline-grabber and cultural curveball. Cabinet ministers earn just shy of €50,000 a year; a permanent secretary tops €80,000. Even NGO coordinators draw salaries. Against that backdrop, a zero-wage CEO is as rare as a quiet Sunday in Buġibba.

PN leader Bernard Grech told supporters gathered at the party’s Ħamrun headquarters that Agius Cabourdin’s waiver will save “tens of thousands” at a time when opposition coffers are low and the party is still paying off debts from 2019’s European Parliament campaign. “She believes in the cause,” Grech insisted, waving a printed copy of her signed waiver. “Service to country before self.”

The move is not without precedent—former Labour minister Joe Grima once boasted he would serve for €1 a year—but Grima’s stunt was short-lived. Agius Cabourdin has committed to at least three years without remuneration, according to the contract seen by this newspaper.

Locals greeted the news with a mixture of pride and suspicion. “Noble, but is she independently wealthy?” asked 71-year-old Naxxar pensioner Ċensu Zahra, sipping a morning ħobż biż-żejt at Is-Serkin. “Or will some consultancy contract pop up elsewhere?” Others see a breath of fresh air. “Finally, a signal that politics doesn’t have to be a gravy train,” said University student Maria Elena Bezzina, clutching iced coffee on the Msida promenade. “Maybe it’ll shame the big parties into trimming the fat.”

The PN hopes the gesture will resonate beyond the bubble of party faithful. Malta’s cost-of-living crisis is biting: rents have doubled in a decade, utility bills crept up again last month, and the latest NSO figures show 16.9 % of under-30s still live with parents because they can’t afford to move out. In that climate, a high-profile figure forgoing a salary feeds into the broader narrative of belt-tightening and shared sacrifice.

Yet symbolism only stretches so far. “If the PN really wants to impress, let them publish the full organisational chart and salaries of every employee,” argued blogger and political commentator Manuel Delia. “Transparency shouldn’t hinge on one person’s goodwill.”

Agius Cabourdin, 52, is no stranger to scrutiny. During her decade at the Central Bank she steered Malta through the 2008 financial storm and later clashed with Labour exponents over quantitative-easing policy. She lives in Attard, is married to a French-language teacher, and sits on the board of the Malta Community Chest Fund—credentials that burnish the PN’s centrist, technocratic brand.

Still, the unpaid angle carries risk. Trade unions have long warned that voluntary executive roles can depress wages across the board and mask structural underfunding. “We applaud civic spirit,” said GWU secretary-general Josef Bugeja, “but political parties must not rely on charity to function. Democracy deserves a budget.”

For now, the grassroots are enjoying the spectacle. PN Facebook groups have replaced profile frames with “Thank you Sabine” banners; one entrepreneurial Zejtun baker is selling “CEO b’xejn” custard slices, donating proceeds to a children’s hospice. Even Labour voters are watching. “If she manages to cut costs and modernise that creaky party machine, we’ll copy the model,” a senior government source admitted, half-joking.

Whether Agius Cabourdin’s pro-bono tenure becomes a catalyst for wider reform or remains a one-off headline remains to be seen. What is certain is that Malta’s political conversation has shifted, at least for a news cycle, from corruption allegations and construction scandals to a simple, startling proposition: public service without pay. In a nation built on patronage, that alone feels revolutionary.