On Wednesday, 11 February, the Times of Malta featured a report by James Cummings, "Replace private cars in Gozo with self-driving taxis, AI professor says", a proposal that immediately provoked surprise, unease, and widespread debate among Gozitans.

Prof. Alexiei Dingli proposed to remove all private cars from Gozo and replace them with self-driving taxis. According to Prof. Dingli, this idea is visionary, bold, and forward-looking. He frames it as an experiment in modern mobility, a chance for Malta to shine as a global pioneer. Yet behind the language of innovation lies a troubling assumption: that Gozo exists to test theories, not to serve the lived realities of its people. In this vision, Gozitans become subjects in a technological trial, expected to surrender everyday freedoms for the sake of an abstract future.

The suggestion did not emerge from a grassroots debate in Victoria, Għarb, Nadur, or Zebbug. It surfaced at a business forum organised by Deloitte, before an audience of executives and policymakers. Projections from American investment firms and examples from distant cities were used to wrap it. It arrived polished, confident, and detached. What it did not include was a serious engagement with how life in Gozo actually works.

For most Gozitans, a car is not a luxury accessory. It is a necessity, as it connects villages to workplaces, hospitals, schools, farms, and ferry terminals. This enables older parents to stay self-sufficient and allows young families to balance employment and raising children. It supports farmers transporting produce, artisans delivering goods, and small businesses surviving on tight margins. To suggest that rented autonomous vehicles can simply replace this system ignores decades of infrastructural neglect that forced people to rely on private transport.

Gozo did not choose car dependency. It inherited it while successive governments failed to build a reliable public transport network. They delayed road upgrades, neglected junction design, and postponed digital traffic management. They promised ring roads, park-and-ride systems, and smart mobility hubs, then quietly shelved them. In this vacuum, private cars filled the gap. They became the only dependable option in an unreliable system.

Prof. Dingli acknowledges Malta remains "very far back" in AI education and infrastructure. He admits it may take decades for the technology to mature locally. Yet in the same breath, he proposes one of the most radical transport overhauls imaginable for Gozo. This contradiction sits at the heart of the problem. A country that struggles to maintain bus timetables, road markings, and ferry schedules cannot credibly leap overnight into a fully autonomous mobility ecosystem.

Supporters of the proposal highlight cost projections, suggesting that driverless taxis may eventually become cheaper than traditional transport. These figures rely on optimistic assumptions about mass production, regulatory alignment, flawless software, and stable energy markets. They come from investment analysts, not from lived experience. Gozitans know how such projections usually unfold. Initial pilots run late while budgets expand and the promised savings evaporate. Maintenance contracts multiply, and users end up paying more for a service that delivers less.

The proposal also raises deeper questions about autonomy and dignity. Owning a car represents more than convenience. It symbolises independence as it allows people to decide when to travel, where to go, and how long to stay. A system based entirely on rented vehicles transfers that power to algorithms, operators, and regulators. Mobility becomes permission-based, and access depends on apps, accounts, and system availability. When the interconnected systems that support our modern lives experience failures, the regular flow of daily existence can come to a standstill.

This matters particularly in an island context. Gozo already lives with structural vulnerability. Storms disrupt ferries, and technical faults delay crossings. Medical emergencies require rapid transport to Malta. Family members commute daily for work. In such conditions, resilience depends on personal control over mobility. Removing private cars weakens that resilience.

The selective nature of the proposal makes it even more problematic. Prof. Dingli previously served as mayor of Valletta, a dense urban centre burdened by congestion, noise, and pollution. During his tenure, he did not advocate removing all private vehicles from the capital. He did not propose turning UNESCO-listed streets into autonomous corridors. He did not suggest that Valletta's residents surrender their cars for experimental mobility platforms. Radicalism appears only when the focus shifts to Gozo.

This asymmetry reflects a wider pattern in national policymaking. Gozo often becomes the testing ground for ideas considered too disruptive for Malta. Waste facilities, planning relaxations, infrastructure shortcuts, and policy experiments frequently land on the sister island first. Decision-makers frame this as an opportunity, while Gozitans experience it as marginalisation.

Innovation does not require dispossession, noting that Europe's most successful mobility transitions did not begin by banning private ownership. Initially, they put money into dependable buses, light rail, cycling networks, pedestrian infrastructure, and digital traffic systems. They created attractive alternatives before discouraging old habits. They earned public trust through competence, not through coercion.

If policymakers genuinely want to reduce congestion in Gozo, they already possess a long list of practical tools. They can redesign Victoria's traffic circulation and introduce integrated ticketing between ferries and buses. Expanding park-and-ride facilities and enforcing delivery windows are things they can do. They can deploy adaptive traffic signals to regulate speculative parking. None of these require experimental AI platforms, but all require political will.

Prof. Dingli speaks of changing "the relationship with the car". That relationship changes when people see better options. It does not change when authorities remove choices and replace them with promises. Behaviour follows infrastructure, and trust follows delivery.

There is also a democratic deficit in the way such ideas emerge. Major changes to mobility shape property values, employment patterns, family routines, and social life. They deserve island-wide consultation, transparent studies, and local participation. They do not belong to conference soundbites. Gozitans do not need policy visions designed for applause.

Technology can play a positive role in Gozo's future. AI can help optimise ferry scheduling, predict maintenance needs, improve energy efficiency, support elderly care, and manage tourism flows. These applications strengthen communities instead of treating them as prototypes. They solve existing problems rather than inventing new ones.

The real challenge facing Gozo is not excessive attachment to cars. It is chronic underinvestment in alternatives and it is fragmented planning. They disguise delayed execution and short-termism as strategy. No algorithm can compensate for institutional weakness.

Gozitans do not oppose progress, but they oppose being experimented upon. They welcome innovation that respects their circumstances, traditions, and aspirations. They reject visions that reduce their island to a convenient sandbox.

Gozo needs better transport and smarter planning. It needs courage from leaders, and surely what it does not need is to be stripped of agency in the name of fashionable technology.

Gozitans are citizens, not data points. They are partners in development, not laboratory material. And they deserve policies built with them, not tested on them.