Labour MPs Block Urgent PAC Probe into Fortina ‘Cheese-Grater’ Tower, Sparking Coastal Uproar

**PL MPs Walk Out of PAC, Blocking Parallel Debate on Fortina Controversy**

Labour MPs on Parliament’s Public Accounts Committee (PAC) refused yesterday to entertain a parallel discussion on the Fortina development debacle, effectively slamming the door on opposition demands for immediate scrutiny of the €500 million St George’s Bay project. The walk-out, described by government whip Glenn Bedingfield as “a procedural stunt”, leaves the controversy in limbo while cranes keep swinging and Facebook keeps boiling.

The Fortina hotel-and-resort extension—approved in 2021 under a fast-track tourism permit—has mushroomed into a 19-storey glass wedge that locals nickname “the cheese-grater”. Residents say it wallops sea views, gobbles public beach and privatises the sunset. Environmental NGOs have filed three court cases; the Auditor General is already poring over paperwork. But Opposition MPs wanted the PAC—Parliament’s spending watchdog—to open its own parallel track, arguing that public land concessions and millions in VAT refunds deserve cross-party interrogation now, not after yet another summer of jackhammers.

Bedingfield countered that the committee’s calendar is chock-full with a backlog of 14 reports, including the hospitals concession and the American University road reroute. “We cannot turn PAC into a Netflix series where every new episode drops on demand,” he told journalists outside the committee room, minutes after leading the Labour majority out of the chamber. The refusal means the Fortina file stays off the PAC agenda until at least October, when the House reconvenes after the long Mediterranean recess.

For Sliema residents, the move feels like déjà vu. “We’ve danced this tune before—Mrieħel towers, DB Group, ITS site,” sighs 68-year-old Mary Grace Buttigieg, peering up at the construction glow that now replaces her evening rosary light. “They concrete first, apologise later.” Her neighbour, 24-year-old barista Jake Vella, is more blunt: “They’re playing parliamentary Minecraft while we choke on dust.”

Culturally, the Fortina strip has always been a liminal space: fishermen’s huts turned soldiers’ barracks turned postcard cafés. The 1960s Fortina Hotel itself was a symbol of swinging Malta, hosting Miss Malta pageants and Italia ’90 victory parties. Today’s extension promises rooftop infinity pools and a “wellness lagoon”, but many Maltese feel the project severs their own coastline like a private yacht parked across a village square. “Access to the sea is in our DNA,” says Prof. Arnold Cassar, anthropologist at the University of Malta. “When you wall it off, you’re not just blocking sunlight—you’re blocking collective memory.”

Tourism operators are split. Five-star properties cheer the luxury footfall; family-run beach-lidos fear the shadow. “We already lost 40 % of morning swimmers since the hoarding went up,” claims Marco Zammit, who rents sunbeds a stone’s throw away. “If PAC won’t talk now, we’ll be talking to lawyers instead of tourists.”

Opposition spokesperson Karol Aquilina called the boycott “an insult to every citizen who wrote objections, signed petitions, queued at 5 a.m. for a Planning Authority seat”. He vowed to re-table the request weekly, turning PAC opening minutes into a Groundhog Day of procedural chess. Civil society group Moviment Graffitti has announced a “sunset sit-in” this Saturday, inviting protesters to bring towels and tambourines for a shoreline jam beneath the towering façade.

Meanwhile, the developers, Fortina Investments Ltd, insist they are “fully compliant” and welcome “any scrutiny at the appropriate juncture”. Their PR team circulated drone footage of reef-ball installations and promised 600 new jobs—70 % for locals. Yet WhatsApp neighbourhood groups buzz with drone shots of their own: cranes swinging over public rock-cut steps, concrete lorries idling in bus lanes, a heritage knight-era fountain reportedly boxed inside the site perimeter.

As the PAC shutters its doors on the topic for now, the real verdict may come from the water itself. “Come August, when the bay turns soup-thick with jellyfish and the northerly wind pins diesel fumes against that glass wall, we’ll see who still books a €400-a-night room,” predicts veteran boat-captain Raymond “Il-Big” Farrugia, lighting a cigarette by the Sliema ferry. “Parliament can walk out; the sea never does.”