From Valletta to Washington: How Trump’s FBI Revenge Tour Could Hit Malta’s Shores

Valletta’s morning cafés buzzed louder than usual this week after news broke that former FBI director Andrew McCabe—once the United States’ top counter-terror cop—has been criminally charged at the very moment Donald Trump steps up a sweeping retribution drive against perceived enemies. While the courtroom drama is playing out 8,000 kilometres away, the ripple is being felt inside Maltese homes, courtrooms and even the parish confession box, reminding islanders how tightly our micro-state is wired to super-power politics.

McCabe, briefly acting director after Trump fired James Comey in 2017, stands accused of misleading internal investigators about media leaks. Supporters call it a politically tainted prosecution; critics hail it as overdue accountability. Either way, the case is widely seen as the opening salvo in Trump’s promised “reckoning” against the FBI, intelligence chiefs and Justice officials he brands “the deep state.”

Why should Maltese readers care? Start with passports. Roughly 31,000 Maltese citizens hold dual US nationality, according to the latest National Statistics Office emigration survey. Every FBI purge or politicisation of federal police powers reverberates in dual-national households from Birkirkara to Brooklyn, especially those with relatives in the US military or security clearance jobs. “If the FBI becomes a political weapon, background checks on Maltese-Americans could get nastier,” warns Dr Maria Camilleri, a University of Malta international-law lecturer who tracks transatlantic extradition treaties. “Malta already cooperates with US authorities on financial-crime data. A less independent Bureau means less predictable requests.”

Then there is money. Malta’s financial-services sector, contributing 12 % of GDP, depends on stable US correspondent banks. Trump’s allies have threatened to revoke licences of lenders deemed “hostile” to his agenda. A partisan FBI could feed dossiers to Treasury officials, placing Maltese banks that serve online-gaming or crypto clients under extra scrutiny. “Even the perception that enforcement is politicised raises compliance costs,” notes a senior risk officer at a Sliema-based credit institution who asked not to be named.

Tourism, our golden goose, is also watching. American visitor numbers surged 44 % between 2022 and 2024, helped by direct flights from New York and Boston. Yet the US State Department’s travel advisory system—guided partly by FBI security assessments—already ranks Malta Level 2 (“exercise increased caution”) because of petty crime. A vengeful Trump administration could theoretically inflate that warning, denting cruise-line confidence and squeezing Gozo farmhouse bookings. “We’re not saying it will happen, but in 2018 we saw how quickly Turkish arrivals dropped after a tweeted policy spat,” recalls Philip Fenech, vice-president at the Malta Hotels and Restaurants Association.

On the cultural front, Maltese society—steeped in Catholic narratives of forgiveness—finds the spectacle of ex-leaders facing jail both fascinating and unsettling. “We argue about politicians’ impunity constantly, whether it’s Panama Papers or the hospitals deal,” says Etienne Bonello, a 26-year-old lawyer enjoying espresso on Strait Street. “Seeing America lock up its own top cop makes our judiciary look less lonely, but it also shows how polarised democracies can turn justice into blood sport.”

Local activists are drawing parallels. Moviment Graffitti plastered Valletta walls overnight with posters reading “No FBI-style purges—protect our prosecutors,” a nod to ongoing domestic pressure on Attorney General Victoria Buttigieg over her handling of high-profile corruption cases. Meanwhile, the Nationalist Party urged government to “stand ready” to defend any Maltese officials caught in transatlantic cross-hairs. Justice Minister Jonathan Attard responded cautiously, saying Malta “respects US internal processes” while reaffirming the island’s “non-aligned but friendly” posture.

Back in the cafés, opinions split along generational lines. Older patrons, remembering 1980s Cold-War flare-ups when US warships eyed Malta’s then-neutral shores, fear a return of super-power bullying. Teenagers scrolling TikTok see only viral memes of Trump in orange jumpsuit fantasies. Both groups, however, share one realisation: in an age of globalised justice and economic inter-dependency, even the smallest EU state can feel the tremor when Washington’s powerful start eating their own.

Whether McCabe ends up fined, jailed or exonerated, the saga is a flashing warning light for Malta. Our economic model relies on rule-of-law credibility; our diaspora relies on fair legal systems abroad. As Trump’s retribution drive accelerates, the island must balance its strategic friendship with Washington against the risk of being collateral damage in an American civil war fought through court indictments. In the words of one islander at the bus terminus: “When elephants wrestle, the grass gets trampled—unless the grass is smart enough to roll with the punches and keep growing.”