Maria Deguara: The Sliema banker tasked with saving Malta’s opposition party from financial ruin

**Insight: The woman tasked with overhauling PN’s financial troubles**

In the shadow of Castille, where political fortunes rise and fall with the Mediterranean tides, one woman is quietly attempting what many consider impossible: breathing financial life back into Malta’s opposition Nationalist Party. Maria Deguara, a 52-year-old former bank executive from Sliema, has inherited what insiders describe as “the most thankless job in Maltese politics” – PN’s financial rehabilitation.

The task ahead is daunting. After years of electoral defeats, declining membership fees, and a string of expensive court battles, the party that once dominated Maltese politics for decades finds itself scraping the bottom of its coffers. Sources close to the party whisper of unpaid rents on district offices, staff salaries delayed by weeks, and a headquarters that needs more than just a fresh coat of paint.

“It’s like trying to bail water from a dghajsa with a broken qoffa,” quips one former PN councillor from Birkirkara, using the Maltese metaphor of bailing water with a woven basket. “But if anyone can do it, it’s Maria. She’s got the stubbornness of a Gozitan farmer and the charm of a Valletta wine merchant.”

Deguara’s appointment last month raised eyebrows across the islands. Unlike typical party treasurers – usually retired businessmen with deep pockets and deeper connections – she arrives with no political baggage but plenty of corporate battle scars. Her 25-year career at Bank of Valletta, where she rose to head of risk management, saw her navigate the choppy waters of Malta’s 2008 financial crisis and the more recent money-laundering scandals that rocked the banking sector.

“She’s not here to make friends,” says Roberta Pace, who runs a souvenir shop beneath PN’s Pietà headquarters. “The other day, she came in asking about our rent agreement. Thirty years we’ve been here, and nobody from the party ever asked questions. She’s different – she actually reads the contracts.”

The timing couldn’t be more crucial. With local council elections looming and a European Parliament campaign on the horizon, PN desperately needs to project financial credibility. The party’s traditional funding streams – wealthy donors from Sliema and St. Julian’s business circles – have dried up, either defecting to Labour or retreating from political donations altogether following Malta’s greylisting and increased scrutiny of political financing.

Deguara’s strategy, revealed in part to Hot Malta, involves a three-pronged approach: aggressive cost-cutting at party headquarters, a controversial “friends of PN” fundraising drive targeting the Maltese diaspora in London and Melbourne, and perhaps most radically, transforming the party’s Valletta property portfolio into revenue-generating assets.

“The PN owns some prime real estate,” explains Michael Refalo, a commercial property agent who requested anonymity. “Their headquarters alone, that Victorian building by the marina, could fetch €30,000 monthly in rent. But try telling that to party stalwards who see it as sacred ground.”

The cultural significance runs deeper than mere balance sheets. In a country where politics is woven into the fabric of daily life – where village festas still carry subtle red or blue undertones, and where families split along party lines over Sunday lunch – PN’s financial woes reflect a broader identity crisis. The party that gave Malta its first prime minister, that led the country to EU membership, risks becoming irrelevant to a new generation more concerned with rental prices than republics.

At her favorite café in Balluta Bay, where elderly men argue over kinnie and politics while watching the morning fishing boats return, Deguara remains philosophical. “Malta gave my family everything when we emigrated from Sicily in the 1960s,” she says, stirring her coffee. “Now it’s time to give back. The PN needs saving not for its own sake, but for Maltese democracy. One-party rule isn’t just unhealthy – it’s un-Maltese. We’ve always thrived on passionate debate, on having two strong voices in the village square.”

Whether she succeeds remains to be seen. But as the church bells echo across the harbor and another political day dawns in Malta, Deguara is already at her desk, spreadsheets spread before her like battle plans. The woman from Sliema may just be the PN’s last best hope – and Malta’s opposition knows it.