Palma to clear the occupied prison: Who protects the people and who protects the neighborhood?

Palma to clear the occupied prison: Who protects the people and who protects the neighborhood?

Eviction, demolition and plans for social housing – but are humane answers missing?

As early as mid-morning two patrol cars and a municipal van were parked askew at the entrance to the old prison, just a stone's throw from the Ocimax shopping center, where there have been reports of drone deliveries to the prison. Passersby paused, a kiosk vendor wiped her hands on her apron and watched, cars moved on with the traffic lights. The city's announcement that it will inspect, register and ultimately clear the site in the coming days has put the neighborhood on alert.

Key question: How can an eviction enforceable by police be combined with the duty not to leave vulnerable people stranded on the street? This decision is not a mere administrative procedure; it is a test of transparency, coordination and concrete support measures.

The hard facts are on the table: The municipal administration speaks of around 200 people currently living illegally in the former prison. Councilor Javier Bonet has announced that local police and social services will carry out a registration on 25 and 26 February. After that the city intends to initiate a formal repossession procedure; affected people would have five days to file objections, and in the extreme case they would have to vacate the site within four days – otherwise the matter would go to the judiciary. The city also reports a series of interventions: 263 operations around the site, of which 143 formally fell outside municipal responsibility, and four fires last weekend in which firefighters rescued people.

Critical analysis: The numbers indicate conflict potential and a real safety risk. But announcing an eviction alone does not solve the underlying problem. Without clear, immediately available alternatives there is a risk of displacement rather than a solution. Authorities can secure or demolish a building, but they cannot, by administrative order, straighten out the life paths of hundreds of people. The city names partners – the diocese, the port authority, the regional government representation and even the military – and promises temporary shelters; this follows other contested evictions, including the Son Banya case, where a court confirmed municipal ownership. How concrete are these commitments? Who guarantees access to medical care, psychological support, legal advice and, for people without regular residency status, prospects for regularization?

What is missing from the public discourse: the voices of the people living there. What keeps them in a former prison? Homelessness, lack of papers, poverty, but also the need for protection from outside violence are possible reasons. Exact data on ages and health is lacking, as is a transparent list of available beds in emergency shelters. Also little discussed is the role of the central government in residency issues and cooperation with aid organizations such as Caritas or the Red Cross for short-term accommodation.

Everyday scene: In the afternoon one could smell frying oil from the snack bar on the corner; teenagers glanced at the site, an older man walked his dog on a leash. The normal sounds of the neighborhood continue while the administration prepares a countdown behind closed doors. That makes the situation doubly tense: the conflict environment remains visible, uncertainty is palpable, and people on the margins of society are reduced by the media to a signal of problems.

Concrete approaches that should be applied now: First, a binding, public list of available places in emergency shelters and alternative accommodations, including contact persons. Second, mobile teams of social workers, health professionals and interpreters who record individual needs immediately during registration. Third, established legal advice for quick clarification of entitlements and for appeals against the eviction decision. Fourth, a staged eviction strategy: priority evacuation of those in acute danger, deadlines linked to clear accommodation offers, and only afterwards police enforcement. Fifth, the involvement of NGOs and church organizations (for example Caritas, Cruz Roja) for short-term housing and long-term placement into social housing. Also: fire protection measures for neighboring buildings and a transparent plan for the period between demolition and reconstruction so the site is not reoccupied.

Legally the city is within its rights when it restores property. Practically the question remains whether an eviction without sound social alternatives merely relocates the problem. Who protects the residents from homelessness and relapse into precarious living? Who protects the neighborhood from further escalations? The answers must be public, comprehensible and implementable before the forced measures begin.

Pointed conclusion: The demolition project is understandable given the fires and police operations. However, clarity, timing and humane alternatives are the true tests. Without visible, immediately available solutions a repressive action risks only sweeping the problem away rather than solving it. Palma must now prove that urban policy also means responsibility for the most vulnerable – not just for order on the surface.