A public haven in a hub of overdevelopment

Manoel Island is the only green lung in Gżira – a town which is densely populated and choked by traffic fumes. Surrounded by blue waters, the island holds historical, cultural and architectural significance. More importantly, it’s a place people visit to reflect, learn and escape from the chaos just metres away. 

But, a 25-year-old concession threatened to strip all of this away, sparking outrage in a population that can no longer bear the sound of diggers and the sight of cranes.

In 2000, the MIDI consortium was granted a 99-year concession by a PN government to develop luxury apartments on Manoel Island and Tigné Point – a deal that was unanimously approved by Parliament. 

Over the past two decades – and especially in the last ten years – the Manoel Island project has repeatedly made headlines. Plans have been resubmitted and revised several times, and today, the developers say that 63% of the area will be allocated to public open space.

But that figure hasn’t convinced everyone. For one, the open space would sit on privately held land, and it remains unclear to what extent locals – particularly those who don’t live within the development – would truly be able to access and enjoy it.

For 29,000 people across Malta and Gozo who signed a petition, it simply wasn’t enough. Nor could it outweigh the environmental damage that large-scale construction inevitably brings.

This wasn’t the first time activists had spoken out or launched petitions. Campaigners have long pushed for the concession to be revoked – and if anything, recent developments are a testament to the power of perseverance.

In response, activists banded together and pushed back. Protests were organised. Awareness campaigns launched. And then it was up to the public to decide whether it cared enough to act.

A campaign that led the charge

Manoel Island: Post Għalina – led by two major NGOs and endorsed by some 50 others – launched a parliamentary petition earlier this year to turn the area into a national heritage park and this garnered 29,041 signatures in two months.

Despite this major achievement, the government, the Opposition and MIDI showed no signs of budging. The government said reclaiming the land would be too expensive, the opposition leader called the proposal of a park a “beautiful dream”, and MIDI assured that the development is protected by law.

In most cases, such dismissive responses would have drained public momentum and closed the chapter. But this time was different. Activists, civil society groups – and even some politicians – refused to back down.

Members of the PN publicly challenged their own leader. Former prime ministers voiced opposition despite having previously been in favour of it. Environmental experts, academics, and journalists scrutinised MIDI’s claims, raising serious questions about the project’s legal and environmental basis. Civil society remained vocal and engaged, refusing to be sidelined by bureaucracy or developer spin. 

This wasn’t a fleeting moment of resistance. It was a sustained, coordinated push – a rare display of collective stamina in a country often accused of giving up too easily.

Before long, the tone from key players began to shift. Bernard Grech called on the government to examine the contract for possible breaches, Robert Abela said he was determined to convert Manoel Island into a national park, and MIDI stated it was open to holding that conversation.

Malta’s voices were heard – but it remains to be seen how far they will carry.

The tides may have begun to shift, but the waters are far from calm. This is an important moment, but even if the government reclaims the land, civil society must remain vigilant. Every decision that follows deserves scrutiny.

The truth is, things could still go sideways. The government’s sudden change in tone came quickly – almost too quickly to go unquestioned. MIDI is known to have been in talks to sell parts of the project to other developers, and the wording of its recent statement – particularly its emphasis on the park concept – suggests it may be positioning itself for a handover. It’s not unthinkable that the concession, or parts of it, could simply be passed on to different private hands under the guise of a compromise.

Abela has already made it clear that the country will not spend hundreds of millions to buy back the land. That makes a middle-ground solution – part park, part commercialised zone – the most likely outcome.

For that reason, the movement must stay active, strong, and alert. If disappointment follows this wave of hope, it cannot be allowed to fizzle out into nothing. 

I understand the apathy – I’ve felt it too.

It’s that quiet resignation that settles in after years of seeing public land sold off, historic facades replaced with sterile concrete and glass, and money funnelled into corruption while essential services fall apart. It’s the sense that no matter how bad things get, nothing ever really changes.

In a country where outrage is frequent but follow-through is rare, apathy becomes a form of self-protection – a way to cope with disappointment. So it’s only natural to assume this time would be no different. That worse has happened, and no one stopped it. That we’re powerless against the people we elect.

But we’re not.

Change is hard – but not impossible. When enough of us care loudly, power listens. And this moment should remind us of that. Not just for Manoel Island, but for Comino, for our farmland, for justice in Palestine, for reproductive rights. The issues differ, but the lesson holds: pressure works.