When charity becomes a spectacle: Rethinking Malta’s model of solidarity

Malta prides itself on being an affluent, growing country. Year after year, the government announces record-breaking budgets, rising GDP figures and an expanding welfare state. Yet, throughout the year, people watch on their television screens fundraising events in which individuals lay bare the most painful chapters of their lives to secure help. This contradiction should trouble us.

Telethons such as L-Istrina, Puttinu Cares, Dar tal-Providenza, Caritas Malta, Missio Malta and Dar Bjorn, are deeply embedded in our national calendar. They mobilise generosity on a scale of €15 million to €20 million every year. Expenses to run these telethons might shave off some 15% to 20% from the final amount but this is an issue for another time,

Of course, these monies go to fund work that is undeniably essential. The compassion they inspire is mostly genuine, and much of the money raised is in most cases responsibly used. None of this is in question. The problem lies elsewhere.

These events have institutionalised a charity model that relies on exposure, emotional leverage and the public recycling of personal trauma. In doing so, they normalise the idea that access to care, support and inclusion depends on visibility and public sympathy. In a country that describes itself as economically affluent, this should set off alarm bells.

When people are expected to perform their suffering, what we end up witnessing is not solidarity but evidence of systemic failure. Televised suffering is not social policy; it is a workaround that quietly shifts responsibility away from the state and places the emotional burden on those least able to carry it. Dignity becomes collateral damage.

This reality is particularly jarring when one considers the scale of public spending. Malta allocates around €2.6 billion annually to social services and benefits, excluding the significant investment in health, education, housing, inclusion and local government, which all contribute directly to social policy. Why must people still go on television, collect money from the streets or front public campaigns to access essential support?

You cannot celebrate economic success with one hand and broadcast human distress with the other. That contradiction is not accidental. It reflects a system that tolerates charity stepping in where rights-based provision should exist. Charity was never meant to replace the state or function as a parallel welfare system funded through spectacle and guilt.

Those with lived experiences of hardship are rendered vulnerable once again, used as backdrops to narratives of generosity rather than being genuinely empowered.

Importantly, non-governmental organisations themselves are not the villains of this story. Many are trapped in an outdated funding ecosystem where survival depends on outdated telethons. When exposure becomes the only viable route to sustainability, the problem is structural, not organisational. NGOs deserve funding systems that do not force them to compromise the dignity of the people they serve.

The current model also creates fertile ground for reputational laundering and political opportunism. I was shocked to see people parading those massive, silly, big, presumptuous cheques knowing well-enough how some of the companies treat their staff members while piggy-backing on peoples’ tragedies. This is why Malta urgently needs a national reset.

A public debate leading to a national convention on fundraising is needed, involving the Malta Council for the Voluntary Sector, the Malta Council for Economic and Social Development, parliament’s Social Affairs Committee, the Commissioner for Voluntary Organisations and any other stakeholders. A national conversation involving beneficiaries, volunteers, social operators, VOs, NGOs, professionals, policymakers, academics, media and the wider public is long overdue.

For the time being, it seems, parliament through the Social Affairs Committee looks like it is going to take a leading role—a step in the right direction.

Avoiding this conversation is no longer neutral; silence simply protects the status quo. Such a debate must confront the ethical cost of exposure-based fundraising and explore dignity-first alternatives. Across Europe, NGOs are increasingly funded through automatic micro-donations, participatory public funds, social impact bonds, CSR foundations and transparent digital platforms. These mechanisms generate reliable funding without placing individuals under the spotlight or demanding personal disclosure.

Malta could adopt similar approaches.

Even modest opt-in payroll donations, matched partially by employers, could generate millions annually. Participatory budgeting for community projects, structured charity lotteries, regulated crowdfunding for targeted initiatives and cause-related marketing partnerships with businesses all offer viable alternatives. Strengthening social enterprises and cooperatives under existing legislation could also provide sustainable income streams while creating jobs and social value.

At the same time, some practices should be phased out and declared illegal. For example, charity collection boxes that rely on public pity are dehumanising and belong to another era. Leadership in social policy and service provision must also be strengthened; the current vacuum only entrenches reliance on spectacle.

If dignity truly matters, Malta’s charity models must change. And if social leadership exists, now is the moment for it to show itself.