The Maltese megalithic structures are called temples in every guidebook, on the UNESCO listing, and in the standard archaeological literature, where the whole period is named the Temple Period after them. The word arrived in the nineteenth century, hardened into a technical label, and now carries a claim about function that the excavated evidence supports only weakly.
What actually supports it: animal bone in quantities suggesting slaughter beyond ordinary consumption, figurines that are plausibly votive, a recessed block that has been read as a place for ritual washing, and stone bowls. What counts against treating the label as settled: there are no burials in them, which is unusual for a religious building in most traditions; there is no image that can be securely identified as a deity; and there is no writing. The buildings are clearly not ordinary houses and clearly absorbed enormous effort. Beyond that, calling them temples is an inference dressed as a name.
The problem is compounded by what happened inside them. In 1827 the Lieutenant Governor of Gozo, John Otto Bayer, had the interiors of Ggantija cleared of accumulated debris. The material was removed without examination and is lost. Whatever the primary deposits could have told us about what was done in these chambers went out in barrows, decades before the questions were being asked.
The structures themselves are not in doubt. Two of them stand inside one boundary wall on the Xaghra plateau, the larger and older raised around 3600 BC, surviving in places to six metres, laid out as semicircular apses opening off a central passage, faced inside and out with limestone around a rubble core, with plaster still adhering in patches. They are among the oldest free-standing monumental buildings known anywhere, older than Stonehenge, older than the Giza pyramids, with the usual caveat that superlatives of this kind depend on how narrowly one defines a building.
Two things remain genuinely open. Building on Malta stopped around 2500 BC and no explanation is established; climate, soil exhaustion, population change and external arrival have all been proposed and none is demonstrated. And the islands' human story has recently grown longer at the other end: work published in 2025 identified hunter-gatherers on Malta a thousand years before farmers were thought to have arrived, which requires a sea crossing of about a hundred kilometres and revises what the first Maltese are assumed to have been.