Who is Maricarmen? How the housing crisis triggered Spain's snap general election

By Mireia Vendrell Ribas

The story of an 87-year-old woman evicted from what had been her home for more than seventy years has made headlines worldwide, even reaching the UN, where the Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (CESCR) urged the Spanish government to provide her with alternative housing.

Maricarmen Abascal was a resident of Madrid's Retiro district since 1956, spending her entire life in the same flat on Alcalde Sainz de Baranda Street. She lived under an old-rent contract, a type of rent-controlled lease signed before 1985 that offers tenants far stronger protection than current rental law. It had been signed by her father and passed to her mother and then to her; it stipulated a monthly rent of €500. Under the 1994 rental law, a second transfer of an old-rent contract to a child lasts only two years, so the legal protection ended in 2007. Even so, Maricarmen stayed in the flat, paying around €500 per month, updated yearly with inflation.

In 2018 came what has become an all-too-familiar story in Spain, especially in big cities. Her flat, which belonged to Renta Corporación, was sold to Urbagestión - an SME version of a "vulture fund". Urbagestión asked her to pay €1650a month instead of €500. Her pension was €1350.

After years of legal battles and three postponed attempts, Maricarmen was evicted on September 23, whilst around 400 activists protested in front of her building and tens spent the night in its entrance hall to hinder the police's work. The day before, an anonymous person offered to buy Maricarmen's flat from Urbagestión so she could keep living in it and pay off her debt, but Urbagestión refused.

The Madrid Tenants' Union denounced a disproportionate police operation and violence against those who refused to move; tens of videos spread across social media showing police brutality and insults. Maricarmen, who had reduced mobility, was removed from her apartment on a stretcher.

The image of this frail old lady, who had become a symbol of the fight for housing, being so cruelly expelled from her lifelong home, sparked protests across the country: in solidarity with Maricarmen, but not only for her. Her case struck a nerve because it is far from unique.

Spain faces a housing affordability crisis: according to an analysis published by El País in September, rents rose by an average of 87% between 2015 and 2025, while salaries rose by only 30%. Maricarmen may be 87, but the crisis hits young people hardest; the average age of leaving the parental home is 30.2, while the average age in the EU is 26.4. The causes are complex, but they boil down to three main factors.

The first is demand. Spain's population has increased by 7% since 2015, with Madrid and Barcelona absorbing 43% of that growth, while construction has not kept pace. According to the Bank of Spain's deputy governor, the housing shortage will reach one million by 2028.

the PSOE may have found a way to turn a political liability into its main campaign asset.

The second is tourism and foreign buyers. Overnight tourist stays have increased significantly since 2018, and non-resident foreigners were responsible for 750,000 property transactions, rising in some provinces such as the Balearic Islands and Málaga to as much as 20% of the total. This has fuelled rapid gentrification, pushing speculation to levels that locals can no longer afford. 

The third is the lack of social housing. With only 1.3% of the total housing stock dedicated to social rental, Spain falls far behind its European neighbours: the Netherlands allocates 34%, Austria 24%, the UK 16%, and France 14%.

It was against this backdrop that the protests that followed Maricarmen's eviction grew into something much bigger. On September 26, activists started camping on Puerta del Sol – one of the main squares of the capital – under the banner of “Ni una Maricarmen más” – “Not one more Maricarmen”. Their goal was clear: to pressure the Government into finally approving a long-overdue decree that protects vulnerable people from eviction and applies measures against “vulture funds” abuse.  Vice President Yolanda Díaz – Sumar’s leader (Sumar is Spain’s junior coalition partner, a broad left-wing alliance to the left of the PSOE), PSOE’s government partner – encouraged people to take the streets and protest to force PSOE (Spain's main ruling centre-left party) to make a move. Protests and campsites in public spaces started spontaneously all over the country, eventually evolving into a broader national social movement.

On September 29, the Spanish Government approved two emergency housing decrees in the Council of Ministers, the executive body. However, because they were Royal Decree-Laws, they still needed to be approved by the Congress of Deputies to remain in force. The Government’s party did not hold enough seats to pass them on its own, so it needed support from other parties, particularly Junts (Catalan nationalist, pro-independence centre-right party). Junts refused to support the measures and voted against them alongside the PP (Spain's main conservative party) and Vox (Spanish far-right party).

As a result, on October 2, the Congress of Deputies rejected both decrees. This meant that the Government’s proposed response to the housing crisis and the Maricarmen case had been blocked by Congress. The defeat increased political tensions and led to further protests and mobilisation over housing.

The Tenants' Union started calling for the organisation of a general strike over housing. The main protest camping site in Madrid’s Puerta del Sol remained in place for more than a week, resisting occasional attacks by far-right groups that were dissuaded by anti-fascist activists. Their settlement started to become more organised; they sorted out allotments, medical and coworking points, and even divided the campsite into streets. In Barcelona, around 100 people set up a parallel protest camping site in Plaça Catalunya.

After the housing decrees were rejected, a new political debate emerged about whether Spain should hold early elections. The Government has struggled to pass legislation since the beginning of this legislative period as it did not have a stable majority in Congress. The defeat of the housing decrees highlighted the difficulty of governing with such a fragmented Parliament. This raised the question of whether the current Parliament had become too difficult for the Government to work with. Finally, on October 5, President Pedro Sánchez called for elections on November 29.

After the General Courts' dissolution, a path for the approval of the most popular of the housing decrees has been cleared– this decree would limit the evictions of people in vulnerable positions until 2030, hinder the “vulture fund” purchasing of property and extend for two years contracts in effect that would otherwise finish by 2028. The key is that the 350 diputados no longer participate in plenary sessions; only the Standing Committee does. The Standing Committee is formed by 69 members, and its proportional composition has changed: the Government’s and its partners’ blocks count with 35 members, versus the PP, Vox and Junts block, which only counts for 34. Then, this first housing decree, which only requires an overall majority to be approved, could be passed with 35 votes in favour and 34 votes against.

Her case made headlines, and people all over Spain will mourn her, while most in her situation slip away unnoticed

In leftist Spanish circles, a debate has emerged over the real intention behind the PSOE’s decision to call early elections: was it a parliamentary strategy to get the housing decree approved, or an electoral masterstroke? With political attention now firmly focused on the housing crisis, the PSOE has less pressure to answer for in-party issues, like its recent corruption scandals, or political failures, such as the humanitarian crisis in Ceuta. Instead, it can enter the election campaign presenting itself as the only effective line of defence against a Spanish right that would only make the housing crisis worse. In other words, the PSOE may have found a way to turn a political liability into its main campaign asset.

In any case, elections should not be the focal point, because that is not the lesson we must take from this fable. Our lesson is about the power of grassroots mobilisation, of collective action, which has pressured the government into finding a way to approve the “Maricarmen decree”, and that brought Maricarmen back home. After negotiations mediated by Madrid’s municipal housing agency (EMVS), Maricarmen’s representatives reached an agreement with Urbagestión, the property owner. She was offered a new eight-year tenancy, with rent capped at 30% of her net income and a maximum of €500 per month. On September 29, while still in hospital, Maricarmen accepted the agreement and was allowed to return home once medically discharged, with her belongings still inside.

She did not have long. Maricarmen died on October 7; she was 87. She spent her eighties fighting to keep her home, was carried out of it on a stretcher, and was then attacked and defamed on the Spanish right's podcasts and TV programmes. At the “happy ending” of her story, after all her bravery and struggle, she died. And it was the housing crisis that murdered her. When I started writing this piece, I thought the storyline would be the one of the eucatastrophe, and that I would have to highlight its exceptionality. Still, sadly, it turned out to be the perfect example of how this housing crisis kills.

Maricarmen Abascal was the lucky one. Her case made headlines, and people all over Spain will mourn her, while most in her situation slip away unnoticed. In the same week that she got her home back, in the Metropolitan Area of Barcelona, two other people in vulnerable situations, Olga and Javier, died by suicide in the context of eviction proceedings. Their stories barely reached the general public. Activists pressuring a "vulture fund" is not justice, and neither is charity. Only legal protection of the rights guaranteed by the Constitution is justice. Mobilisation is how change is forced, and legislation is what makes it durable.

Image: Barcex / Wikimedia Commons