In Las Palmas, there are political decisions disguised as technocracy, but they are pure ideological scalpels. They have no blood, but they cut just the same. The south of Gran Canaria—that economic engine that has been sustaining the Canary Islands' GDP with its tourism for decades—has been, once again, left behind. If Mogán was already simply excluded from the distribution of the Canary Islands Development Funds (FDCAN), now, almost halfway through 2025, it's the turn of public housing and services for the elderly. Gran Canaria has two speeds, and the south is traveling uphill, with no brakes or map. What's happening in Mogán is no coincidence. It's structural. And it's time someone spoke up.
The mayor of Mogán, Onalia Bueno, in the last plenary session, exposed the brutality of an institutional neglect that is no longer concealed: public housing isn't built because it's not in their interest. And care for the elderly simply isn't included in the distribution of power.
The story is no longer surprising, but it is outrageous. The tender to build 259 affordable social housing units has been declared void. No one wants to build in Mogán. Why? Because the Canary Islands government remains stuck at a module of €1.905 per square meter, an unrealistic figure, more appropriate for an inland agricultural region than for a municipality where the square meter competes with prime areas of Gran Canaria.
Mayor Onalia Bueno—neither left-wing nor right-wing, but from Mogán—has announced a troika to force the Canary Islands government to revise the module upwards because otherwise it's unviable. And she's right. Any developer knows that building in the south requires paying more for everything: scarce land, more expensive logistics, more expensive materials. But from the capital, Las Palmas, legislation is passed as if all municipalities were equal. The result is perverse: the system is designed so that Mogán cannot build housing, and therefore cannot retain a resident population. An elegant way to empty the territory.
It's not just about numbers: an exclusionary social model is emerging, where the south becomes a tourist backdrop and little else. A sort of Dubai in the Canary Islands, where workers—those who clean, cook, and sustain the tourist miracle—have to move elsewhere, driven out by the lack of housing and inflated rents.
Housing, however, is not the only symptom of the punishment. The plenary session also addressed another shameful episode: the dependency agreement expired in December 2024, and neither the Canary Islands Government nor the Island Council have been able to update it. The result: essential social services for the elderly and minors with special needs are up in the air, awaiting phantom budgets and broken promises.
What message is being sent from the highest echelons of Las Palmas to the residents of Mogán? That they don't count. That if they want to grow old with dignity, they should move north. That if their children need special support, they'd better find it on their own. What's being implemented isn't a lack of sensitivity, it's a strategy of emptying. A soft colonization where only tourists and hoteliers are tolerated. The rest is superfluous. While the City Council is once again revising the specifications and trying to put the homes out to tender before the end of the summer, only the 59-unit Lopesan development—a giant with its own muscle—is moving forward amidst so much paralysis. An exception that proves the rule: only the big players survive the regulatory disdain of those in power.
