In December 2023, UNESCO added the Maltese festa to its Representative List of Intangible Cultural Heritage. The decision came during the organisation's eighteenth intergovernmental session, held that winter in Botswana. Malta's list now features the festa, besides the ftira and għana. The Malta Band Clubs Association, with backing from the Curia and feast communities, led the application process. Professor Jean-Paul Baldacchino from the University of Malta oversaw the process, following its submission in 2021. 

These islands possess something remarkable that is gaining notice. Malta and Gozo's 85 parishes host 94 festas between late April and early October. Volunteers prepare throughout the year for celebrations that last a single week. Few European nations sustain popular religiosity on this scale through voluntary effort alone.

Yet international recognition should prompt reflection rather than trigger complacency. UNESCO's own decision file flagged over-commercialisation and overcrowding as threats to the tradition. The examiners saw what many of us privately acknowledge every summer. With honesty, we must ask ourselves: Do our festas still fulfil the intent for which they were first created?

With roots stretching back through centuries of parish life under successive rulers, the festa has a long history. Each village built its identity around a patron saint and a titular statue. The festa marked the spiritual summit of the parish year, not its social calendar. Liturgy came first, and the street celebrations flowed from that devotion. The order has reversed in too many localities across both islands.

Every festa still begins inside the liturgy, devotion, and genuine prayer. The novena draws the faithful; the panegyric praises the saint, the translation stirs hearts. However, venturing outside reveals a distinct celebration happening in the streets. Compare the congregation at the evening functions with the crowd at the marċ ta' filgħodu. The external festa will mirror the devotion that fills the church throughout the week. The street party becomes detached from the saintly dedication of the festa. A procession deserves reverence, not a soundtrack of commercial revelry drowning the band.

Let nobody misread this argument as an attack on festa enthusiasts. The voluntary work behind every festa remains admirable, exemplary and humbling. Decorators climb ladders in July heat to hang pavaljuni along narrow streets. Pyrotechnicians sacrifice weekends throughout winter inside lonely fireworks factories in the countryside. Bandsmen rehearse for months so that a village march lasts three glorious hours. UNESCO recognised this transmission of skills from one generation to the next. The treasure lies in these people, not in the decibels they produce.

Gozo illustrates the tradition at its best and at its most fragile. Villages like Xagħra, Nadur, and Xewkija, as well as Victoria stage festas that rival anything on the mainland. Maintaining festas becomes a considerable logistical and financial challenge for limited communities each year. A village of two thousand residents cannot absorb reckless spending on fireworks. Gozitan festas also keep an intimacy that mass tourism has not yet flattened. That intimacy deserves protection before commercial pressures erode it beyond recovery.

The 2026 season now approaches its August climax across both islands. The Santa Marija weekend will again fill Mosta, Mqabba, Qrendi, and the Gozo capital Victoria. Visitors will arrive in their thousands, drawn by the UNESCO label itself. Recognition brings scrutiny, and the world now watches how we treat our treasure. Every insult shouted and every bottle broken now carries an international audience.

Fanaticism in excess is a major obstacle to UNESCO's advancements. Constant devotion will push fans to go beyond sensible local passion. Rival band clubs in the same village trade insults that no saint will recognise. Partisan chants, offensive banners, and social media taunts poison entire communities for weeks. History records court cases, curial interventions and even suspended feasts over such rivalries. The saints these clubs honour preached humility, charity, and love of neighbour. Occasionally, followers exhibit irritation, malice, and blatant disdain towards their fellow parishioners.

It is becoming the norm that these celebrations suffer from excessive drinking. Anyone who walks through a village square after midnight sees the evidence. Reports of drug-taking laced into the revelry will alarm every organising committee. Such behaviour destroys the spirit and motivation that give these festas meaning. Parents once brought children to the festa as an education in faith and belonging. They deserve public spaces where education remains possible after the sun sets.

Then comes the question nobody wants to ask aloud: the money. There are no records that show the actual expenditure on fireworks for any of the ninety-four festas. No merged accounts exist for what feast committees spend on pyrotechnics each year. That opacity will trouble us as much as the expenditure itself. Public money already flows into this sector through official channels. Arts Council Malta launched half a million euros in feast funding schemes for 2023. Those schemes covered fireworks: factory safety, feast associations and band club activities. Taxpayers, therefore, hold a legitimate interest in how festa finances actually work.

Two useful changes come to mind, each keeping the spectacle intact. Festa organisers ought to first seriously consider a set budget for fireworks. A sensible ceiling will cool the arms race between rival villages and clubs. Artistry and craftsmanship will then become the focus of competition, rather than sheer volume. Second, fireworks enthusiasts will commit nationwide to a pre-agreed percentage for charity. Imagine every feast dedicating a fixed share of its fireworks budget to Puttinu Cares Foundation. That children's cancer support group embodies the practical Christianity these festas claim to celebrate. A saint's feast that funds sick children honours its patron more than any murtal. The gesture will answer critics more eloquently than any defensive press release.

Band clubs must choose to spearhead this reform instead of opposing it. Their association carried the UNESCO application over the line with genuine professionalism. This energy will lead to a national charter for responsible festa management. This type of charter will confront rivalry, substance abuse, and financial openness. Decisions like these involve the active participation of the Church, the state, and volunteers.

The festa survived the Knights, the French, the British, and two world wars. Honest insights come from the valuable feedback of devoted supporters. UNESCO called our festas a treasure, and the description fits. Treasures, however, demand guardians who polish them rather than merely display them. The church's functions inside remain worthy of the saints they honour. The celebrations outside must rise again to meet that same standard. Cap the fireworks money, share it with the sick, and silence the insults. Then the festa will truly deserve its place on the world's cultural map. Our grandchildren will inherit a festa, not merely a party with a statue.