This Is Who We Are
Every year, the State of the Nation survey seeks to capture a clear picture of Maltese society of how people think, what they prioritise, and how those attitudes are evolving. This is not simply a statistical exercise; it is a yearly check-in with the national psyche, offering insight into the values, behaviours, and contradictions that define us.
It is easy to speak about numbers, but it is far more important to speak about what those numbers tell us about the country. And this year, the story they tell is both reassuring and sobering.
What emerges clearly, year after year, is the central role that the family continues to play in our lives. In a world that feels increasingly disjointed, Maltese people consistently identify the family as their principal source of support, education, and moral grounding. Decisions, both big and small, are filtered through that familial lens. When we face difficulties, we look first to those closest to us. This resilience and reliance on family is a trait that has remained remarkably consistent over time. But while that might suggest a nation firmly rooted, it also reveals the vulnerabilities that come with a society resistant to wider forms of openness.
Nowhere is this more visible than in our relationship with foreign cultures and foreign workers. Although Malta is grappling with a declining birth rate and our economy is increasingly dependent on foreign labour, nearly a third of respondents still do not agree with bringing in foreigners to fill jobs that Maltese people are unwilling to do. The contradiction is striking. We rely on others, yet we struggle to fully accept them. This speaks to a deeper unease with cultural integration, despite our self-perception as a hospitable nation. At a time when Malta is being shaped by demographic and economic shifts, our unwillingness to adapt socially poses one of the most significant challenges to national cohesion.
Culturally, the attachment to traditions remains strong. Feasts continue to be the most cherished expression of Maltese identity, followed closely by Good Friday processions and traditional food. These are not superficial preferences. They reflect a cultural consciousness built on community, ritual, and celebration. But they also coexist with a generational divide that is becoming increasingly pronounced. Younger Maltese no longer engage with politics or religion in the same way their elders did. One in five people aged between 16 and 25 say they do not believe in God. Even more telling is the diminishing importance of religion in moral or political decision-making among the young. Political apathy is also on the rise, with fewer than one in five young people expressing any real interest in public affairs. It would be a mistake to dismiss this as mere indifference. It is, more likely, a reflection of deep disillusionment – perhaps even an indictment of the institutions and discourse that have failed to engage meaningfully with a new generation.
At the same time, we are seeing an epochal shift in how information is consumed. Fewer people are turning to traditional news portals or even television. Social media has taken centre stage, particularly among the young. Nearly 80% of those aged between 16 and 25 use Facebook, TikTok and Instagram concurrently. This isn’t simply about access to information. It is about the formation of opinions, worldviews, and, crucially, habits of thinking. The concern here is not that young people are on social media, but that the architecture of these platforms – short videos, algorithms that reinforce what we already believe, a constant stream of novelty – is making it harder for us to think deeply and critically.
This year’s results show that although people still trust their families above all else, the quality of time spent with family is under pressure. When so much of our attention is fragmented by digital media, it becomes harder to cultivate the kind of long, focused conversations that families used to rely on. We must ask ourselves whether the tools we have created to connect us are also disconnecting us from each other, and from ourselves.
That question becomes even more urgent when we consider the rapid rise of artificial intelligence. AI, and tools like ChatGPT, are becoming part of our daily lives. But how are we using them? Are they helping us become better thinkers, or are they replacing the act of thinking altogether? Technology should liberate time for reflection, not consume it. Yet what we are seeing is a tendency to use AI as a shortcut, to avoid the effort of grappling with difficult questions. But real-life problems – those involving family, work, or personal conflict – are not solvable with prompts and algorithms. They require thought, patience, and an inner voice we are in danger of losing.
We should not fear AI. Like the calculator and the computer, it must be introduced in our education system, from a young age, and treated as a tool—one that can help us become more efficient and precise. But it must never replace the core human capacities of judgement, creativity, and reflection. The greatest challenge is not whether we adopt these technologies, but whether we shape them to serve our growth, rather than our distraction.
This same approach must be taken with social media. We must ask whether, as a society, we are willing to teach its use, not just permit it, within our educational systems. We can no longer afford to leave these tools outside the classroom, only to have them shape our children behind closed doors. The conversation about education must evolve, and it must begin with difficult but necessary questions: What is the role of schools versus the home? Are mobile phones and tablets genuinely helping learning, or are they an escape from it? Have children become magnets for technology precisely because it spares them the burden of thinking?
Technology is moving faster than our national curriculum. It is moving faster than our collective capacity to adapt. That gap must be closed. We must learn how to teach thought itself – how to slow down, reflect, and solve problems, even when the solutions are not immediate. It is not enough to prepare students to absorb information. We must prepare them to deal with complexity. The role of critical thinking has never been more vital. And it must be protected – not just in universities, but at every stage of development, from childhood onwards.
This is the purpose of the State of the Nation survey: to provoke conversation, to surface uncomfortable truths, and to bring to the fore the deeper questions we too often postpone. Malta has spoken, not with slogans, but with sincerity. It is now up to us to listen – not just to what is said, but to what it implies.