Bills 143 and 144: Cutting people out of the conversation | Luke Said

Luke Said is a PN candidate

Lately, reading the news has felt like stumbling into a soap opera written by Kafka and directed by Machiavelli. Between Bills 143 and 144, the push to amend the Constitution, and the latest arithmetic in the Fortina valuation saga, it’s a wonder any journalist in this country has slept. Hats off to them; the fourth estate remains our only dependable watchdog, even if it must bark through exhaustion.

But let us turn to the week’s legislative protagonists: Bills 143 and 144. Their official titles are draped in words like “efficiency” and “streamlining”.

In modern political grammar, efficiency often means less scrutiny, and streamlining means cutting the public out of the process.

Planning law is, admittedly, not the sort of thing that quickens the pulse. Yet these bills profoundly matter because they decide whether our streets remain a liveable community or become a canyon of concrete. The government loves to repeat that Gozo is an island of villages. Yet every legislative act seems to be drafted as if the goal were to ensure those villages exist only in paintings and postcards.

Our right to object

We, the people, have the right to voice our opinion. Whether it’s labelled as NIMBYism or civic concern doesn’t really matter. If a development can negatively impact our quality of life, our community, or our shared environment, we all have the right, and the duty, to object to it.

This isn’t about being anti-progress or anti-development. It’s about ensuring the progress we make doesn’t come at the cost of liveability, heritage, or sanity. Citizens shouldn’t be treated as obstacles in the planning process; they are, and must remain, an essential part of it. But there are a couple reality checks that need to be unpacked.

Reality check 1: The myth of the petty neighbour

One of the more colourful justifications for these bills is the claim that vindictive neighbours are weaponising appeals to stall projects. It is a persuasive tale, but it belongs to fiction. Anyone who has ever attempted to file an appeal knows it demands time, money, and resilience; commodities that most citizens would rather invest elsewhere. Baseless objections are dismissed swiftly; the idea that the system is choked by petty spite is, at best, an imaginative flourish.

The prime minister’s anecdotes about “innocent applicants” tormented by “jealous neighbours” may make for good theatre, but if those permits were truly sound, why would there be a worry that a tribunal would overturn the board's decision? Either the system is broken, or it is being used as a convenient villain to silence the public’s voice.

Instead of repairing the cracks in the planning process, these bills punish those who expose them. It is, in essence, the legislative equivalent of blaming the fire alarm for the smoke.

Reality check 2: When authority outgrows accountability

Bill 144 would elevate the Planning Authority to a status that rivals the courts, and perhaps even surpasses them. We have already seen instances where a court invalidated a permit only for the authority to re-sanction the same project under a new pretext. Under this bill, that troubling habit would no longer be an aberration; it would be institutionalised.

The courts, instead of overturning a bad decision outright, would be reduced to sending it back to the Environment and Planning Review Tribunal rather than forcing applicants to kick off the planning process anew. The watchdog would be muzzled and told to fetch.

Reality check 3: The Constitution, consultation and convenient timing

If there’s one proposal that deserves genuine applause, is the PN’s motion to make environmental protection a fundamental human right in the Constitution. I remember two years back when MPs Darren Carabott and Stanley Zammit reached out to

NGOs for consultation, the way proper policymaking is supposed to happen. Contrast this with the stealthy arrival of Bills 143 and 144. It was only after public outrage that government announced that a consultation exercise would take place. Consultation, apparently, has become a synonym for damage control.

The bigger picture

These bills tilt the balance further towards those who already have the ear of power—developers, insiders, the well-connected–while pushing citizens and NGOs further to the margins.

For years, Malta’s planning system has teetered between dysfunction and despair. Instead of righting the balance, these bills would saw it off entirely. Appeals will become harder, scrutiny rarer, and accountability optional. The government insists it is cutting red tape; in truth, it is cutting the public out of the conversation.