The gender corrective mechanism introduced into Malta's electoral system was born of good intentions: to address a persistent and troubling imbalance in representation and to make the nation's Parliament more reflective of its population. Under this reform, up to 12 seats can be added to the total number of MPs to ensure that the under-represented sex - almost always women in Malta's case - has a stronger presence in the House. But in the wake of the 2022 general election, the very mechanism meant to empower women has been met with growing discontent, not least from women themselves.

At the time of its adoption, the law's drafters aimed to strike a balance. They set a 40% target for gender representation in Parliament but wisely capped the number of additional seats to six for each side of the political divide. The mechanism resulted in 12 additional MPs being appointed, pushing female representation from a dismal 13% to a somewhat improved, yet still modest, 28%. But that number, as much as it is an improvement on paper, now feels less like progress and more like a capping reinforced by unintended consequences.

In fact, the very existence of the mechanism may have discouraged voters from backing women candidates at the polls. A growing sentiment is that voters assumed women would "get in anyway," and so shifted their support toward male candidates instead. What was meant to be a springboard for equality, in practice, has become a crutch that undermines the perception of legitimacy surrounding women in Parliament. The irony is bitter: a measure designed to promote fairness has ended up casting a shadow over the achievements of the very individuals it aimed to support.

Among the mechanism's most vocal critics is none other than Roberta Metsola, President of the European Parliament and one of Malta's most prominent political figures. Metsola, herself a product of determined political ascent without the aid of quotas, has not minced words. The mechanism, she said recently, "has failed". It has not only failed to achieve its long-term goals, she argues, but has also become a smokescreen - manipulating statistics and ultimately working against women by creating an environment where their parliamentary presence is seen as conditional, rather than earned.

Metsola's critique is both pointed and principled. Her argument is not against increasing the number of women in Parliament, but against the method by which it is being done. "Ultimately, you should be in Parliament because people voted for you to be there," she said, echoing a belief in meritocracy that resonates strongly among female politicians who want to be judged by their capabilities, not by the legal scaffolding that surrounds their presence.

Yet not all share her view. The Labour Party, a key architect of the mechanism, has defended the initiative robustly. The party maintains that the increased representation has brought not just numbers, but a broader perspective to Parliament. In its view, the mechanism is a "necessary and successful" step, one that has already achieved what years of rhetoric could not. The party dismisses criticisms like Metsola's as "superficial" and politically motivated, suggesting that they undervalue the very real work being done by the women elected through the system.

Moreover, the Labour Party has reminded critics that Malta was consistently ranked among the lowest in the EU for female political representation before the law was enacted. A jump from 13% to 28%, while still far from the 40% target, marks a historic shift - one that, it argues, would not have happened without structural intervention.

But the core discomfort remains: when a woman enters Parliament through the gender corrective mechanism, there is a lingering perception that she did not earn her seat in the same way as her male counterparts. This perception can be damaging not only to the individual but to the cause of gender equality itself. Women in politics should not have to carry the burden of being perceived as "quota candidates", especially in a society still wrestling with deep-seated patriarchal norms.

Therein lies the paradox. Without intervention, progress is slow or non-existent. With intervention, progress comes - but with strings attached, strings that can strangle the very credibility and independence the measure was supposed to enhance. That women are now themselves questioning the mechanism is a telling sign.

It reflects a deeper desire not just for representation, but for respect, legitimacy, and equal footing in a highly competitive political landscape.

So where does Malta go from here? If the gender corrective mechanism has reached its political and social limits, then the conversation must shift from numerical fixes to cultural ones. Education, mentorship, and institutional reforms may prove more effective in the long run than constitutional band-aids. Women deserve to be in Parliament not because the law says so, but because the people do.

Ultimately, the goal must be equality not only in numbers but in perception and opportunity. For that, Malta needs more than just mechanisms - it needs a change of mindset.