Malta’s Economy Burned by Climate Risk: EU Study Ranks Islands Third Most Exposed

**Malta’s Sunny Economy Faces Storm Warning: EU Report Flags Islands Among Most Weather-Exposed**

Valletta – For generations, Maltese children have been warned that “ix-xemx mhux dejjem tidħol bieb it-tieqa” – the sun doesn’t always shine through the same window. Now Brussels has turned the proverb into hard numbers: Malta ranks third among all EU economies most vulnerable to weather shocks, behind only Cyprus and Greece, according to a European Commission climate-risk study published on Tuesday.

The 2023 EU Climate Exposure Index weighs tourism revenue, agricultural output, energy demand and coastal infrastructure against projected heatwaves, droughts and flash floods. Malta’s 14 % GDP share linked to sun-and-sea tourism immediately pushes the islands into the red zone. Add the dense web of coastal restaurants in St Julian’s, the strawberry fields of Mġarr that supply 70 % of local winter vegetables, and the Delimara power station sitting barely three metres above sea level, and the spreadsheet starts to look like a summer electricity bill: painfully high.

Yet in the cafés behind the Upper Barrakka, the report is being read through a different lens. “We survived the war, the plague, and 1970s concrete – we’ll survive hotter summers,” laughs 82-year-old Toni Camilleri, stirring his tea with a traditional ħobża spoon. His nonchalance is typically Maltese, but beneath it lurks a generational divide. Students who marched in last month’s climate strike daubed “Your ħobż biż-żejt tastes of wildfire smoke” across Parliament’s gates. Their point: the economy that paid for Camilleri’s seaside flat is the same one threatening their own future.

Take the Feast of St Peter’s fireworks in Żejtun, cancelled two years running after fire-risk red alerts. Or the Gozo ferry queue on 15 August, when asphalt melted at 46 °C and tourists fainted waiting for shade. “We sold out of portable fans by noon,” recalls Sarah Galea, whose souvenir kiosk outside the Citadel usually stocks lace and honey rings. “Cultural heritage doesn’t mean much when your flip-flops are sticking to the flagstones.”

Farmers feel the shift first-hand. Raymond Farrugia, 58, has tilled the same 2-taħba plot in Qormi since boyhood. Last May a 20-minute downpour turned his field into “a chocolate fondue”, burying 3,000 lettuce heads. “My nanna kept rainfall diaries back to 1947. Never saw anything like it,” he says, scrolling through phone photos of the deluge. Insurance covered barely a third of losses; the rest came from a crowdfunding campaign launched by his grandson, hashtag #LettucePray. The episode underlines the Commission’s warning: micro-states can’t buffer shocks through sheer size.

Hotels are scrambling to keep pace. The Phoenicia recently installed misting corridors and rolled out 6 a.m. check-ins so guests can avoid peak heat. “We market ourselves as an all-year destination, but July and August still pay the bills,” explains general manager Michael Zammit. “If we lose 10 % of summer arrivals, that’s 400 jobs across our suppliers – from linen services to the honey-ring baker in Rabat.”

Policy makers insist they are not folding their arms. A €52 million EU-funded storm-water tunnel beneath Valletta will come online in 2025, while rooftop-solar subsidies have pushed Malta past its 2030 renewable target seven years early. But critics argue the pace is “paċi kbira, pass żgħir” – big peace, small step. “We’re excellent at launching strategies; terrible at implementing them,” says climate lawyer Claire Bonello, pointing to the 2018 coastal plan still awaiting cabinet approval.

Back in the capital, evening cool draws crowds to the Tritons’ Fountain. Teenagers vape beneath the coloured jets while elderly men argue over dominoes. None seem surprised by the EU findings; most are more worried about next month’s rent hike. Yet the report’s subtitle – “Adapt or Pay” – feels increasingly literal. As the church clock strikes eight, the temperature still hovers at 31 °C. A tourist faints; sirens wail. The islands’ greatest asset, their sun, is becoming their biggest balance-sheet liability. The question hovering like late-summer humidity is whether Malta can pivot fast enough to keep the economy – and its soul – from melting away.