Maltese Village Core Regeneration - Adapting to the Modern Age

Maltese village core must not become a museum, but a lived-in space

A Village Built for a Different Life

The traditional Maltese village core was built for a way of life that no longer exists. Back in the day, daily life revolved around the locality itself. Villagers would walk to their nearby fields, children would attend the local school on foot, and daily errands were carried out at small shops a few streets away. The village club or the front doorstep served as spaces of social interaction. The built environment mirrored these needs: compact, walkable, and community-oriented. Everything, quite literally, was just around the corner.

The Age of the Car and the Fragmented Life

Today’s Malta, however, is shaped by an entirely different set of expectations. The motor vehicle has become an indispensable extension of everyday life. Most workers commute to offices in business centres or industrial zones located far beyond their locality. The school run, post-work grocery shopping, extracurricular activities, and weekend errands demand a level of flexibility that the car alone provides. This shift has also changed shopping patterns. Instead of daily errands at local shops, time-starved families prefer one-stop supermarkets that offer both convenience and parking.

This makes it difficult to reconcile the ideals of many village regeneration plans, which often seek to reduce car use, with the reality of modern life. let's face it, the car is not going anywhere. Any viable plan must accommodate its presence while rebalancing its impact. Peripheral municipal car parks, when paired with time-based Controlled Vehicle Access (CVA) systems, offer a pragmatic compromise: enabling vehicular access when necessary, while preserving pedestrian space and quality of life. This is the case of Valletta, where its pedestrianisation has brought new life to the Old City. Without these interventions, families that rely on cars are unlikely to consider the village core a viable place to live.

The Youth and the Village Core

A parallel issue lies in the relationship that younger generations have with the village core. According to the ERA’s 2023 report on local well-being, only 56% of Maltese residents feel a sense of belonging to their locality. Among 16–18-year-olds, that number drops to just 45.8%, particularly in high-turnover urban districts like San Pawl il-Baħar. Yet, despite this dip, the roots of belonging remain strong among those who have grown up in one place. Familiarity, proximity to family, and childhood memories still play a central role in fostering attachment to place.

Even so, data on youth engagement reveals a deeper detachment. Only around 12% of youths are involved in local community organisations, and just 20% report spending their free time in their locality. Nevertheless, its not all doom and gloom. Nearly half attend local events, frequent parks and gardens, and often travel on foot with friends. Their preferences suggest that features like greenery, walkable streets, and clean air retain a strong appeal.

This dissonance between the village’s environmental appeal and its lack of relevance to daily life reflects a deeper shift. The modern lifestyle has severed the link between where people live and where they work, shop, and socialise. In this context, the village core risks becoming a romanticised artefact rather than a functional neighbourhood.

Housing That No Longer Fits

The main barrier is housing. Younger Maltese often find themselves priced out of the housing market, particularly in village cores where the housing stock itself is a deterrent. The traditional townhouse, once a multigenerational home, has often been subdivided repeatedly through inheritance or piecemeal sale. The resulted in house with awkward, fragmented layouts, that make little sense for today’s families.

Renovating such properties is rarely straightforward. Narrow village streets frequently prevent access for construction machinery, complicating and prolonging works. Meanwhile, restrictions on internal alterations, with the good intention of protecting typical Maltese features such as arches and staircases, inject further uncertainty, delay, and cost. The lack of off-street parking and the impossibility of installing a garage in most cases further dissuade car-owning households from choosing such homes.

It is no surprise, then, that many of these townhouses are ultimately sold or rented to foreign residents. The cumulative effect is a gradual cultural dilution of the core, further reducing its appeal. The traditional Maltese presence that once defined village life gives way to a more transient population, weakening the social fabric and distinctiveness of these areas.

When Age Does Not Equal Beauty

A further challenge lies in the built fabric itself. Age, as many architects will attest, is no guarantee of architectural value. Not every old building boasts traditional Maltese features such as ornate stonework, colourful timber balconies, or harmonious proportions. Many are in disrepair, devoid of merit, and unfit for modern habitation. Preserving every such structure, irrespective of aesthetic or functional value, risks freezing the core in a form that neither inspires nor accommodates. Behind the facade, homewoners should be allowed more flexibility to arrange their homes to fit modern needs, instead of preserving old (sometimes obsolete) traditional features. A more discerning approach is needed, one that prioritises external aesthetic beauty, quality and cultural merit over bureaucratic categorisation.

Rethinking the Way Forward

More boldly, coordinated redevelopment offers a promising path forward. In some cases, the Government may incentivise neighbouring owners may to agreeing to joint reconstruction efforts, allowing entire streetscapes to be redesigned in a cohesive manner. The recent application to redevelop a row of terraced houses on Triq Ġużè Ellul Mercer in Dingli demonstrates that such coordination is possible. While the specific architectural outcome in that case raised concerns about aesthetic quality, the mechanism itself has potential. If governed by strong design codes that mandate traditional materials and forms, such redevelopments could yield modern-proof townhouses, that increase liveability while enhancing the village core’s visual identity.

Ultimately, this is not a call to erase history. It is a call to reimagine it. The village core should not become a museum, but as a living system that evolves to remain relevant. A core that is frozen in time will become lifeless. But one that adapts, with care, vision, and dignity, can continue to be lived in, loved, and central to Maltese life in the decades ahead.