Time to redefine who is the ‘foreigner’

Recent official statistics showing that in six Maltese towns ‘foreigners’ have outnumbered ‘Maltese’ residents have been met with the usual xenophobic reactions.

But what makes someone on this island Maltese or a foreigner?

Personally, I often feel closer to the values and culture of foreigners living here than to those of many Maltese people around me. Like many ‘foreigners,’ I struggle to understand the obsession with noisy murtali or the sheer cruelty of our abortion ban. Try to explain that to women hailing from most European Union member states.

But beyond questions of identity and cultural markers, there are also hard demographic realities.

NSO statistics divide the population into Maltese citizens and non-Maltese citizens. The latter category includes both EU citizens—who enjoy the same freedom of movement as Maltese people moving elsewhere in the EU—and third-country nationals, whose labour not only contributes to economic growth but also sustains vital services such as healthcare.

Hidden within these statistics are both temporary residents and those who put down roots here. Some have been in Malta for years without a clear path to citizenship. Others fall in love with the islands, their landscapes, and their people, and come to see Malta as home. Yet these are the very people most likely to feel ignored or ostracised whenever they are told to “go back” to their country.

It is true that Malta faces a demographic problem, because Maltese citizens are having fewer children. But this is not just a Maltese problem—it is a global one. Europe’s population is ageing, Asia and Latin America are younger but also growing older, while Africa remains the youngest continent.

If current trends continue, there will not be enough Maltese workers to fund pensions, staff hospitals, or care for the elderly. As a friend of mine often says, it ultimately comes down to the blunt question: Who will clean your arse when you are too old or sick to do it yourself?

One unrealistic solution is to expect Maltese people to simply have more children. Of course, family-friendly measures like reduced working hours are important, but there are also deeper reasons behind declining birth rates. Women no longer accept being treated as incubators, and the state should back off from interfering in people’s reproductive lives.

The real problem is that Malta relies too heavily on importing young, single men who come here for a short time with no intention of integrating or becoming ‘Maltese.’ Some stay on—because they meet a partner or cannot afford to leave—but as a country, we do little to encourage integration through policies or cultural investment.

Instead of fostering a rooted identity that is open to change, we cling to exclusionary politics, with both major parties falling back on empty nationalist rhetoric. In short, they pay lip service to ignorance while fully knowing their donors depend on cheap and disposable foreign labour.  To address the demographic challenge, we need to move beyond the Maltese-versus-foreigner divide.

We should instead focus on attracting those willing to become part of a vibrant, modern, and rooted culture—one that is open, but firmly anchored in democracy, human rights, and respect for diversity.  Of course, this is not an easy process.

Some people hail from countries which lag behind Malta in terms of LGBTIQ rights, while Malta lags behind most countries in the world when it comes to reproductive rights.  Rather than pushing Maltese people to have more babies, we should be thinking about how to welcome people from abroad who are ready to settle and raise families here. That requires confidence and a departure from our colonial mentality.

For while Malta was once a colony, today we risk treating foreigners either as servants or as masters.  As revealed by MaltaToday recently, foreign tenants and workers are often treated as living ATM machines. If we continue down that path, we risk an explosion of justified social unrest.

The choice before us is stark: Future strife fuelled by exclusion and rootlessness, or a stronger sense of community built by opening ourselves confidently to those who wish to belong here.

Social justice is the key to get there.