IT MAY seem surprising that a dialect of Arabic is an official language of the European Union. But travel 90km south of Sicily and the odd-sounding language of the EU’s smallest state, Malta, is exactly that. With some 450,000 native speakers, Maltese was granted official status in 2004 after the country joined the EU. Malta also belongs to the Commonwealth, which is holding a conference in its capital at the weekend; some 30 heads of government are due to arrive in Valletta, where even amid the babble in English they are likely to hear a smattering of Maltese. It is the sole survivor of the Arabic dialects spoken in Spain and Sicily in the Middle Ages and the only Semitic language written in the Latin script. When spoken, Maltese sounds like Arabic with a sprinkling of English phrases. When written it looks like Italian with a blend of some peculiar symbols. So where does modern Maltese come from?

Much like its society, Malta’s language is the result of centuries of cultural mingling. From as early as the ninth century until 1964, when the country became independent, a series of conquerors left their mark on all aspects of Maltese life, from architecture and the arts to the island’s colourful cuisine. The main linguistic transformation came in around 1050 when the ruling Arabs absorbed the existing community and, thorugh force of numbers, replaced the local tongue with their own. The Sicilians and the Kings of Malta followed. Sicilian, Latin and Italian, which was later declared the country’s official language, enjoyed high status for centuries—but Arabic persisted. In 1800 Malta became a British colony and English, which joined the existing Babel of languages, gradually prevailed over its linguitsic rivals.

Maltese developed in parallel with the nationalities of those who ruled it, absorbing new elements and fitting them into its simplified Arabic structures. Even after the British named it a national language in 1934, it was affected by foreign elements. Along with Maltese, English remained (and still is) one of the country’s two official languages and until 1959 television was only available in Italian. This polyglot culture is at the heart of Malta’s modern society. According to a Eurobarometer poll in 2012, some 90% of the island’s population speaks English. Another 36% speak Italian. Half of the subjects in the country’s schools and almost all of its university courses are taught in English. Shop signs and menus are in English and Italian; newspapers in English and Maltese.

Identity and language are closely entwined, but the high level of bilingualism in Malta has made code-switching rife. The use of English is increasingly present in informal speech—some words are even adopted and given a new life in Italian forms. Now many fear this intrusion could cause the language to be abandoned. Others dismiss such concerns as irrelevant. Professor Joseph Brincat, who teaches linguistics at the University of Malta, says it is too early to say whether Maltese will survive. But whereas Malta’s tongue emerged through inescapable blending, it is no longer vulnerable to the whims of foreign rulers. Like its booming economy, the evolution of the island’s language will be dictated by those who speak it.