Bartolo has consistently refused to answer questions about sponsorships handed out by the MTA, which in 2022 received over €100 million in taxpayer funds.

But the MTA isn’t the only entity falling under the Tourism Ministry which has raised concerns about financial mismanagement.

Take Film Commissioner Johann Grech. Appointed in 2018, he seems to have treated the role as a golden ticket to a jet-setting lifestyle. Exotic travel, mingling with A-list celebrities, and maintaining an envy-inducing Instagram feed are all part of his “vision” to make Malta a Mediterranean Hollywood.

Peas in a Pod

But much like his now-former boss, Grech has run the Malta Film Commission like his personal fiefdom, peppered with scandals.

Remember the infamous Malta Film Awards, where the original budget was €400,000, but the event ended up costing €1.3 million? English comedian David Walliams was reportedly paid €120,000 alone. Grech still hasn’t fully disclosed the event’s total cost. Then there was the extravagant Mediterranee Festival, which insiders say did nothing to boost Malta’s film industry. And who could forget the Malta promo clip, which allegedly cost over €500,000 but which sources suggest may have easily reached €1.5 million, seemingly designed to launch Grech’s acting career rather than promote the country?

Of course, most of these figures are approximate, because the Malta Film Commission has failed to publish audited accounts for five years, despite being legally obliged to do so. The last accounts tabled in Parliament were for 2019—the year after Grech took over. That year alone, travel expenses skyrocketed from roughly €30,000 to €186,000, reflecting a whirlwind of trips, including to some notably remote destinations.

Grech also saw his yearly pay more than double to €150,000 last year after a €90,000 salary increase in 2023. He earned €60,000 a year in 2020. Former minister Clayton Bartolo justified this eye-watering salary hike by insisting that government employees like the film commissioner should be judged not on what they cost but on what they bring to the table. According to him, record results year after year make it worth having “top talent” like Grech in the job.

But let’s not forget—this is the same minister who thought his unqualified wife deserved €68,000 a year for God-knows-what.

Forgive us if his assurances about “value for money” don’t exactly inspire confidence. Especially when, so far, there isn’t a shred of independent data to show how much this scheme has really benefited the country. If there’s anything being brought to the table, it’s probably just the bill—and taxpayers are stuck paying for it.

This refusal to publish accounts isn’t just a legal breach; it’s a slap in the face to Parliament. Bartolo has repeatedly brushed off Opposition MPs’ questions on the matter, and my own requests to the Tourism Ministry have also been ignored.

Last week, the National Audit Office (NAO) published a damning report on the Film Commission, following an audit triggered by requests from Opposition MPs and independent candidate Arnold Cassola. Ironically, Arnold Cassola’s consistent complaints to authorities have become one of Malta’s few remaining checks on power.

The report revealed that while the Commission has handed out hundreds of millions of euros in cash rebates to international filmmakers, no one—not even the Auditor General—can definitively say how much these schemes have benefited Malta. The NAO’s analysis relied on figures self-reported by the Film Commission, an entity whose record-keeping and transparency were deemed abysmal.

Where’s the ROI?

The premise of the rebate scheme is straightforward: productions receive a percentage of their Maltese expenditure as a rebate, encouraging them to film locally while boosting the economy. Grech quickly raised the rebate rate from 27% to 40% in 2019 and later to 50% for “Difficult Audiovisual Works,” making Malta one of the world’s most competitive jurisdictions for filmmakers.

But the scheme is riddled with flaws.

The NAO flagged serious concerns about the Commission’s ability to track the money spent in Malta due to understaffing, poor governance, and a lack of transparency. Industry insiders have even questioned whether rebates were issued for expenses incurred outside Malta, given the Commissioner’s sweeping discretion over approvals.

The Auditor General highlighted the excessive power concentrated in Grech’s hands, a situation that invites misuse. The Commission has assured the NAO it will address these “shortcomings,” but one can’t help wonder whether this opacity and lack of accountability are intentional features of the system, rather than bugs.

Malta’s dismal track record on public fund management makes the Film Commission’s arrangement even more shocking. We have a scheme where well-connected producers can charm Grech into handing over millions of taxpayer euros, all while the Commission operates without basic corporate governance or oversight.

The Commission claims €231.5 million flowed into Malta’s economy from 2019 to 2023… citing studies commissioned by the Commission itself. These studies, however, include dubious assumptions—such as attributing €75 million in 2023 tourism revenue to film-driven tourism—numbers that are impossible to independently verify. Fiscal policy shouldn’t rest on unverifiable, self-serving estimates.

A Crisis of Leadership

The Malta Film Commission’s reckless spending reflects a broader culture of entitlement.

Johann Grech runs the Commission like it was his own, while Clayton Bartolo turned a blind eye for years—right up until his resignation. His decision to finally step down doesn’t absolve him of blame; if anything, it underscores how deeply broken the system is when ministers cling to power until forced out by scandals even they can’t ignore.

Minister Owen Bonnici, who is set to be handed responsibility for the Commission, will now have to decide whether to continue enabling Johann Grech’s unchecked behaviour, and risking Bartolo’s same fate in the process, or start reining him in. This is not just a question of optics; it’s about restoring credibility to an institution that has become synonymous with waste and mismanagement.

And where is the Prime Minister in all this?

Robert Abela may have finally acted by forcing Bartolo to resign, but it was far from an act of leadership.

Abela’s hand was forced, and in the most politically embarrassing way possible: a minister embroiled in scandal does something outrageous, the Prime Minister defends him, the press uncovers yet another scandal, and only then does Abela decide it’s time to act. This isn’t accountability; it’s damage control—designed not to restore trust but to prevent it from eroding further among his core voter base.

True leadership would see Abela also take action against Clint Camilleri, who remains another glaring liability within his Cabinet. Yet so far, Abela seems more committed to protecting his ministers than to protecting the public interest.

Yet the cracks in this system are beginning to show.

Public tolerance for such behaviour is waning, as anger over these scandals spills into conversations far removed from Parliament. While Abela appears content to maintain the status quo, his inaction—or reluctant action—is a gamble. The more this anger simmers, the more it erodes trust—not just in him, but in the institutions he represents. A government that allows its ministers and appointees to act with impunity shouldn’t be surprised when its credibility crumbles.

Malta deserves better than a leadership that prioritises damage control over genuine accountability. Whether change comes from within or is forced by public demand, one thing is certain: this way of governing is unsustainable.

What do you make of the Film Commission’s attitude?