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On September 23, 2026, in Madrid's Retiro district, an 87-year-old woman was carried out on a stretcher as neighbors and protesters shouted in outrage. Her name was María del Carmen Abascal — but across Spain, she is simply known as "Maricarmen."
No one could have predicted that this single moment would become the turning point that shook Spanish politics to its core.
From Madrid to Barcelona, from Seville to Valencia, tens of thousands of Spaniards poured into the streets. Tents occupied Madrid's iconic Puerta del Sol. The clanging of pots and pans echoed through dozens of cities at night. Within ten days, a housing crisis had morphed into a political earthquake — on October 5, Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez announced a snap general election for November 29.
In 1956, Maricarmen's father rented an apartment on Alcalde Sainz de Baranda street in Madrid's Retiro district. Retiro, adjacent to Madrid's famous Buen Retiro Park, is one of the city's most expensive neighborhoods. She grew up here, lived her life here, and after her parents passed away, she inherited the lease and continued paying roughly €500 per month.
The turning point came in 2018. A real estate company called Urbagestión Desarrollo e Inversión purchased the building for €247,000. The new landlord then demanded a rent increase to four times the original amount — €2,650 per month.
Maricarmen's monthly pension was just €1,300 — less than half the new rent.
What followed was a six-year legal battle. Maricarmen won in the lower court, but the real estate company successfully appealed. Her appeals to the Constitutional Court and the Supreme Court were both rejected. Despite her lawyer repeatedly invoking "vulnerability" clauses to delay enforcement, the eviction order was finally carried out on September 23, 2026.
"My home is my life," she said via video to supporters after being taken to Gregorio Marañón Hospital. "I couldn't keep my home, but I fought so that others could learn to fight for theirs."
The image of Maricarmen being carried out on a stretcher went viral on social media. For millions of Spaniards experiencing the same anxiety, this was no longer one elderly woman's tragedy — it was their own story.
On the day of the eviction, nearly 10,000 people gathered in central Madrid to protest. Within days, the movement exploded. By early October, more than 300 tents had been pitched in Madrid's Puerta del Sol, with protesters camping out day and night.
The demands were clear and specific: stronger tenant protections, a ban on evictions without alternative housing, a crackdown on "vulture funds" and speculative investment, and measures to curb the erosion of long-term housing by tourist short-term rentals.
"There is a new energy on the streets, a new energy that proves eight days of popular power can do more than eight years of a progressive government," said Valeria Racu, a spokesperson for Spain's Tenants' Union, speaking at the protest site.
The protests were not limited to major cities. In Cáceres, in the Extremadura region, around 200 people took to the streets. Protester Pablo Galán noted that a decade ago a room rented for about €90; today it costs nearly €300, while entire apartments now command around €800.
"We are being forced out of our cities," he said.
But on October 2, the Spanish parliament rejected the legislation at the critical moment.
The opposition People's Party (PP) and the far-right Vox voted against it, joined by Catalan party Junts and the Basque Nationalist Party (PNV). The PP argued that "housing doesn't become cheaper by decree" and that what was really needed was more construction.
The rejection infuriated people who were already on the streets. Protest organizers immediately announced they would escalate, including calls for a nationwide general strike.
Spain's Tenants' Union declared: "Spanish society will take to the streets in response. There is an irreparable disconnect between what the people want and what the parties vote for."
On October 5, Sánchez delivered an institutional statement from Moncloa Palace, announcing that he had informed King Felipe VI that morning of his decision to call a snap general election for November 29. Spain had originally been scheduled to hold elections in the summer of 2027.
In his statement, Sánchez acknowledged his government's shortcomings: "We ourselves made mistakes and did not achieve all the goals we set." But he also aimed his fire at the opposition: "We have had to contend with the worst opposition our democracy has ever seen — an opposition without a sense of state."
He framed the election as a choice about Spain's future direction — whether to join the "far-right wave" or remain "an open, socially just, and environmentally responsible bastion."
Analysts noted that Sánchez's move was a calculated political gamble. He hopes the public anger triggered by parliament's rejection of the housing bill can be converted into electoral mobilization for the left, securing a more favorable parliamentary landscape for his Socialist Party and its allies.
But multiple polls suggest the PP is likely to become the largest party in parliament, and Sánchez's prospects for re-election are "very difficult."
Over the past decade, average rents in Spain have nearly doubled, reaching €15.1 per square meter. Purchase prices have risen more than 50% over the same period, reaching €2,355 per square meter. In Madrid and Barcelona, apartments renting for under €700 a month are now "extremely difficult to find."
Multiple factors have created this situation: the explosive growth of tourist short-term rental platforms squeezing the long-term rental market; large-scale acquisitions of residential properties by international investment funds and "vulture funds"; and a severe shortage of public housing — Madrid's social housing is so scarce that some units are allocated by lottery.
Housing Minister Isabel Rodríguez said the government's measures would benefit around 5 million tenants, covering 1.89 million rental contracts. But for protesters already on the streets, whether these measures are sufficient — and whether they will actually be enforced — remains an open question.
"Please keep fighting," she said from her hospital bed to her supporters. "I fought so that you could learn to fight for your homes."
On November 29, Spanish voters will head to the polls. The outcome will not only determine Sánchez's political fate but also answer a fundamental question: in a country where housing prices and rents have spiraled out of control, is housing a basic right — or a luxury?
Maricarmen's apartment is in Retiro, with windows overlooking Madrid's most beautiful park. But for millions of Spaniards, the place they can call "home" is growing further and further away.
