From Pastizzi to Pixels: How Malta’s Family SMEs Are Clicking Their Way to Survival

Valletta shop-owner Maria Spiteri still remembers the day her 72-year-old father agreed to put the family’s 50-year-old ironmongery online. “He watched me scan a €3 packet of screws into the new web-shop and whispered, ‘Nistgħu naraw jekk jixtru minn Għawdex ukoll?’” Two months later, 18 % of the store’s sales were coming from Gozo, and the old wooden till that had survived three recessions was finally allowed to retire. Maria’s story is being repeated, in different accents, in every village square across Malta. From the lace-maker in Żejtun live-streaming her bobbin work on TikTok, to the Gozitan apiarist whose honey subscription boxes leave Malta International Airport every Friday thanks to a cloud-based inventory app, the island’s 40,000 small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) are discovering that “digital” is no longer a buzzword—it’s the difference between surviving and shutting.

The pandemic accelerated what local experts call the “triple click” moment: first click to order, second click to pay, third click to share. A 2023 Malta Chamber of Commerce survey shows 67 % of local SMEs now accept mobile payments, up from 29 % in 2019; 54 % use social media as their primary sales channel; and 41 % have adopted some form of e-commerce. Yet behind the percentages lies a cultural shift as Maltese as pastizzi at 6 a.m. “We’re a nation of talkers,” says Dr. Suzanne Mizzi, who heads the University of Malta’s Centre for Entrepreneurship. “WhatsApp Business voice notes, Facebook Marketplace haggling, Instagram Story polls—these are simply the digital evolution of the village grocer remembering how you like your ħobż biż-żejt.”

Government incentives have helped. The Malta Digitalisation Scheme, launched in 2022, refunds 50 % of up to €10,000 spent on software, web development and cybersecurity. Over 1,200 applications were approved in the first 18 months, 38 % of them from female-led businesses. But the real catalyst has been changing consumer habits. Tourists now arrive with phones full of saved TikToks—“Where to eat rabbit in Malta” or “Best sunset cocktails in Sliema”—and expect instant booking, contactless menus and drone-level photography before they’ll even cross a threshold. Locals, battered by inflation, comparison-shop while queuing at Lidl. “If your qassata isn’t on Bolt by 11 a.m., you’ve lost the lunch crowd,” shrugs Karl Cachia, whose family bakery in Qormi saw delivery orders triple after listing on three platforms simultaneously.

Yet digitisation is not just an economic lever; it is reshaping community glue. In Birgu, the Vittoriosa Scout Group teamed up with neighbouring antique shops to create an AR walking tour: scan a brass plaque on a 17th-century doorway and a 12-year-old scout pops up on your screen explaining why the knights needed that particular door knocker. The shops split the €5 download fee, but more importantly footfall has risen 30 % on weekends, and grandparents who hadn’t visited the marina in decades are now showing up with tablets to compare their childhood memories with augmented-reality overlays. “Technology became the bridge between generations,” notes Councillor Audrey Friggieri.

Challenges remain. Cyber-security breaches cost Maltese SMEs an average of €22,000 last year, yet only 14 % have dedicated IT staff. Delivery logistics on an island where every street seems to be a one-way zone can turn a 3-km journey into a 45-minute odyssey. And the perennial fear lingers: if I sell my hand-woven Maltese lace online, will someone in China copy it by Tuesday?

Still, the momentum feels irreversible. This week, the Malta Enterprise Agency announced a follow-up €30 million fund specifically for AI-driven projects—think smart shelves that reorder gbejniet when stock falls below parish-fest thresholds. Meanwhile, Maria Spiteri’s father has progressed from sceptic to evangelist. Last Sunday he spent the afternoon teaching an 80-year-old neighbour how to leave Google reviews, using the parish priest’s new listing as practice. “He gave him five stars and wrote, ‘Great sermons, fast communion,’” Maria laughs. “We’re Maltese—we digitise, but we still do it with a wink.”