Son Banya: The palms no one wanted to pay for — and what that says about public space

Palms, excavators and questions: Why a small green space can be so explosive

It was early morning when the excavators rolled in and cut through the quiet over Son Banya: the drone of planes from the nearby runway, a garbage truck clattering over cobbles, and then the rumble of machines undoing a brief greening. Around 280 Washingtonia palms, each worth an estimated €100, and four freshly planted olive saplings — set overnight, gone again within 48 hours. The central question remains: Who brought these plants — and why do they disappear so quickly?

More than decoration: plants as a statement

In a settlement like Son Banya, where everyday life and conflict sit close together, palms quickly take on a double meaning. For some they are a small escape from the aircraft noise and the heat, a canopy of leaves that rustles in the wind and almost recalls the promenade. For others they are signals: whoever plants claims space, marks presence, and sends messages about responsibility. A police officer put it succinctly: Apparently, the idea was for people to be able to stroll by during the day without fear. But such signs can also be misunderstood or instrumentalised.

Why the city intervened — and which concerns remain

The municipality quickly argued on formal grounds: public space, unclear ownership, and the risk of “silent appropriation.” Authorities fear that apparent beautifications can be used to claim territories or to conceal illegal structures. And indeed, investigators had previously found numerous plant pots as hints of systematic "arranging." However, the manner of the intervention raises questions: why were plants not properly recovered and taken to municipal nurseries? Why not reused elsewhere? The result looks wasteful — and frustrating for residents.

The neighbourhood between relief and anger

On the streets behind the low houses voices mingle. An older woman sighs: “The palms looked nice, the wind played in the fronds, that was lovely.” A young man is outraged by the brutality of the clearing: “They could have transplanted them. Flattening everything is so pointless.” Amid the clatter of dishes, the beeping of old fridges and the distant honk of a bus, it becomes clear: people want quality of life — but not as a symbol of someone else’s power.

What the debate rarely considers

Media and politics quickly discuss law and order, but rarely focus on the practical consequences: plants require care, cost money and carry ecological responsibility. When seedlings are simply removed, a loss occurs — not just financially, but ecologically and socially. In addition, an opportunity is lost to turn a spontaneous action into an organised, sustainable project that involves residents and creates maintenance structures.

Concrete steps instead of symbolic politics

What is missing here is less ideology than a procedure. A few pragmatic measures are enough to defuse future incidents and preserve resources:

1. Transparency and reporting channels: A digital map of public spaces and a simple application form for planting actions. Anyone who plants should briefly state who will maintain it and where the plants came from.

2. Interim storage instead of clearance: Municipal potting sites or a city tree nursery where seized or rescued plants can be housed temporarily. This conserves resources and avoids waste.

3. Participatory greening: Green sponsorships in which neighbours, social services and environmental groups jointly develop planting and care plans — including training and a small maintenance budget.

4. Measured rapid assessments: A short screening to determine whether an action has criminal intent — but with clear deadlines and responsibilities so that not every plant is treated like a crime.

5. Horticulture teams: Mobile municipal gardening teams that can arrive within 24 hours to properly recover, document and reallocate plants.

A pragmatic outlook

Son Banya is more than a place in a headline. Between the apartment blocks, the tempting smell of pa amb oli from small kitchens and the constant background noise of the airport, it becomes clear how sensitive public space has become. The city has a duty to connect safety and quality of life — not with the excavator, but with transparent processes, reuse and genuine participation offers. Then palms could return — but this time not as a question mark, but as part of solutions that actually work locally.

We will keep listening, confront authorities with questions and insist on the numbers. Until then the image remains: palms came, palms went — and the debate about ownership, care and access to public space has only just begun.