Malta’s Grand Old Party at Crossroads: PN Votes for New Leader in Make-or-Break Election

PN to Elect New Leader Today: A Nation Watches as the Opposition Turns the Page

Valletta’s morning cafés are buzzing louder than usual. By the time the church bells of St John’s Co-Cathedral strike ten, delegates of the Nationalist Party (PN) will be locked inside the old Phoenicia Hotel ballroom, deciding who gets to wake up tomorrow as the person tasked with re-igniting Malta’s grand old party. For a country where politics is woven into lace, festa fireworks and family WhatsApp groups, today is more than an internal ballot—it is a cultural moment.

The PN has not picked a leader without a contested vote since 2004. After two crushing general-election defeats, plummeting membership and the hemorrhage of traditionalist votes to fringe parties, many Maltese—whether they admit it or not—feel the outcome in that chandeliered hall will shape the next decade of national conversation. “We need a strong opposition like we need pastizzi at Sunday breakfast,” quips 71-year-old Ħamrun kiosk owner Salvu Pace, handing out warm ricotta parcels to commuters. “One flavour is boring; the island risks heartburn.”

Three candidates have spent the past six weeks criss-crossing village band clubs, parish centres and rooftop wine bars: the bookies’ favourite, MEP Roberta Metsola’s strategist Bernard Grech; lawyer and ex-footballer Alex Perici Calascione, darling of the party’s Catholic grassroots; and youthful MP Eve-Marie Pulis, who has mobilised TikTok-savvy teens still too young to vote but old enough to heckle. Each has framed the contest as a “fight for Malta’s soul”, borrowing the language of festa oratory where saints duel for neighbourhood pride.

Local tradition looms large. On the eve of the vote, Perici Calascione knelt for a photo-op in front of the Żejtun basilica’s titular statue; Grech toured the Gozo crafts village buying glass rosaries as gifts for undecided delegates; Pulis held a candle-lit vigil outside the law courts to mark the eighth anniversary of Daphne Caruana Galizia’s assassination, reminding activists that the PN must reclaim the reformist mantle. The choreography is deliberate: in Malta, politics is still parish-pump theatre, and the electorate—all 355,000 of them—expects symbolism with their Sunday roast.

Yet beneath the incense and confetti, the stakes are brutally modern. A housing market on fire, traffic that turns the Coast Road into a car park, and a grey-listing cloud over financial services demand policy depth. “Whoever wins must speak to pensioners in Birżebbuġa and crypto-entrepreneurs in Sliema in the same sentence,” notes University of Malta political sociologist Dr Maria Grech Ganado. “The PN has six months to feel relevant before the 2025 budget cycle begins.”

Inside the Phoenicia, 1,200 delegates—farmers from Żurrieq, dentists from Naxxar, Gozitan hoteliers—will cast a single transferable vote. The hotel’s veranda overlooks the Triton Fountain; journalists have already bagged tables to watch tearful losers emerge. Bookies say Grech leads at 1-2 odds, but Perici Calascione has shipped busloads of supporters from the southern districts, the PN’s ancient fortress. Pulis could surprise if younger delegates ignore the old guard’s whispers that “it’s not her time yet”.

The result will ripple beyond party headquarters. A rejuvenated opposition could pressure Labour to accelerate judicial reforms and green-transport promises. Conversely, a divisive internal fallout might cement voter apathy, already visible in plummeting festa donations and carnival troupe numbers. “My son asks why he should stay in Malta when he can’t afford rent,” says Swieqi mother-of-two Romina Camilleri. “I tell him maybe the new PN leader will have answers. We’re waiting.”

By sunset, confetti or commiseration drinks will flow on Republic Street. Labour MPs, sipping Cisk in hidden Valletta courtyards, pretend nonchalance but refresh their phones every minute. In village bars, men argue whether the party can win back hunters, while NGOs hope for a greener voice. Whoever is declared victor must tomorrow trade rhetoric for results, because Maltese patience—like summer water—runs out fast.