He is expected to resign before 2026 because the Canary Islands government lacks the budgetary leeway to compensate Lopesan following the 2000 moratorium. A deputy minister has blown up the unsigned agreement between the parties.
In this volcanic land of hair-powdered developers and mayors with more papers than credentials, there are times when the story revolves around a detail. Or a name. Antonio Llorens, a philosophy graduate, a master in surveys, and Deputy Minister of Public Administration and Transparency for the Canary Islands Government, has unleashed Plato's sword to challenge the largest tourism empire in southern Gran Canaria: Lopesan.
From his office in Tenerife—because, as we know, in this war between the Chichas and the Canaries, everything has a trench—Llorens has decided to use the Civil Code and a final ruling to stop the urban development dream of Meloneras 2A, the umpteenth partial plan where bricks and mortars aim to graze dunes as if they were Monopoly plots.
The problem? A damned plot of land. 54.070 square meters of land that the TSJC (High Court of Justice) ruled as rural over a decade ago, when the tourism moratorium was still in effect and hotels were snapping it up. Lopesan, which lost that lawsuit, now wants to reintroduce it into the urban planning mix, disguised as progress and a strategic plan. But Llorens, the philosopher who quotes Habermas among technical reports, says "no." And he says it with the law in his hand.
"The sentence must be carried out," read the papers signed by the Presidency, as if that were enough to stop the bulldozers from the south. The San Bartolomé de Tirajana City Council, more eager for a plan than legal prudence, had already approved everything in May. But Llorens gives them a month to back down. If not, it's war in the courts.
And this office philosopher has hit a nerve: he's left an investment of more than 700 million euros up in the air, including five luxury hotels, green areas, roads, and all the trappings of a typical tourism development. But apparently, a judicial truth weighs more than all the cement in the south.
The City Council says they're calm. That an agreement is about to be signed. That everything will be resolved. But neither Llorens nor his Deputy Minister vouch for this phantom pact. What we have is a final injunction, a judgment pending execution, and an urban development plan on the brink.
In this island war disguised as legalism, a philosopher with an office in Tenerife has put Lopesan, the symbol and powerhouse of tourism in the Canary Islands, on the ropes. And he's done it without a bulldozer or concrete. Only with words, the law, and a sentence that waits patiently to be carried out.
Perhaps Maspalomas has dunes, hotels, and golf courses. But now there's also a metaphysical problem: what matters more, development or justice? Antonio Llorens believes he has the answer. And he doesn't need a linen suit to defend it.
