When Doors Are Bricked Up: Reina, Luna and the Escalating Housing Crisis in Palma

A hallway full of boxes, a dog and fresh cement

Thursday midday on Joan Miró Street: workers set the last concrete block in front of a door. The tapping of trowels mixes with the whir of mopeds, and a security company screws its sign to the wall. A woman in her sixties stands beside them, silent, her eyes glassy. Her name is Reina, or so the neighbors said, and next to her lies a basket with a small blind dog called Luna.

Reina has spent years in one of the basement rooms: a bed, a tiny stove, a wobbly table, a lampshade that sometimes flickers. Her furniture — no more than a few boxes — now stands in the hallway, smelling of cement. A neighbor picks Luna up in her arms. You can hear not only concrete, but also a soft whimper. Passersby stop, some glance discreetly, a child asks why a door is being bricked up. The situation was reported as Escasez de vivienda en Mallorca se agrava: una mujer, un perro y puertas tapiadas.

Why is this happening? The central question

Such evictions are not accidental, but the result of a system. Behind the quick sealing of the door are rising rents, a shortage of affordable housing and a legal framework that is often faster than help. Residents who work in precarious jobs — waiters in Santa Catalina, delivery drivers, care workers — lose the chance of an alternative rental contract despite their income. Locals say the court date was set on Tuesday, and on Thursday the construction company was already at the door: little time for organizing, even less for help. Evictions are rising across the islands, as explored in Living in Crisis: Why Tenants Are Now Paying the Price on the Balearic Islands.

The scarcity caused by short-term rentals also plays a role: apartments that were formerly rented long-term have become more expensive or have disappeared from the market entirely. At the same time, emergency shelters are scarce and often not set up for people with pets. Those who don't want to leave their dog behind say "no" to a place in the shelter — and prefer to wait in the stairwell, a trend described in When Living Rooms Become Bedrooms: How Mallorca Suffers from a Housing Shortage.

Aspects that rarely take the spotlight

When journalists talk about "the housing crisis", details often remain unexamined: basement rooms as a last refuge, the role of private security firms in enforcement, and the emotional dimension — pets, keepsakes, SIM cards with contacts. The presence of security guards and police turns the situation into a public humiliation; the bricked-up portal is not just concrete, but the visible message: property rights count more than life here.

Little discussed is also the speed of legal procedures. Short deadlines mean that people who do shift work have little chance to attend a hearing in time or to organize financial aid. Free, quick legal assistance on site is also often missing.

Concrete solutions — short-term and long-term

There is no miracle cure, but there are measures that could help:

Short-term: Mobile teams of social workers and lawyers who are on site immediately during evictions; emergency vouchers for interim accommodation; binding rules that pets must be accepted; temporary storage space for furniture so that property does not remain in the hallway collecting dust.

Medium to long-term: Expansion of social housing and public vacant property registers, stricter rules for short-term rentals, legal minimum notice periods for evictions, mandatory mediation by the city in cases of imminent loss of housing, special programs for workers in key sectors (hospitality, care, construction) and incentives for landlords to rent long-term.

An ambitious idea that should be discussed in Mallorca: municipal housing cooperatives or community land trusts that remove land from the speculative market and secure affordable housing. And: an emergency fund financed by a solidarity levy on excessive tourism profits could enable recurring immediate assistance.

What the city already does — and what is missing

Authorities point to legal requirements and emergency shelters. Social organizations fill gaps but are chronically overstretched. Neighbors bring water, a woman gives a blanket — gestures that are human, but don't solve structural causes. What is needed is not more symbolism or more pressure on volunteers; what is needed are systemic changes.

A call to politics and society

The scene on Joan Miró Street was neither an isolated case nor theater: it is a forecast. If another door is bricked up tomorrow, the response should not be powerlessness. Politics must set clear priorities: secure affordable housing, slow down procedures, do not count pets as collateral damage. And what can we do as neighbors? We can listen, connect, sign petitions, organize shifts, or act as temporary hosts.

In the evening the security company's sign gleamed in the headlights. A man whispered: "Tomorrow it's another one." That is not just a sentence, it is a demand: who listens — and who acts?