Residential continuity: the invisible heritage that we also must protect

For decades we have learned that there are things a society must protect, because they are part of its collective heritage. We protect the landscape, the coast, natural spaces, historical heritage, and biodiversity because we understand that their value goes beyond each person's private interest.

But there is another heritage, much less visible, which we hardly talk about: the capacity of a community to continue living in its own territory.

I call this heritage 'residential continuity'.

There is residential continuity when the people who live in a place can also imagine their future there. When a young person doesn't have to leave by force. When a family can put down roots. When parents, children, and grandparents are not separated just because living nearby has become a luxury.

Therefore, it is not just a matter of housing. It is a matter of society.

When this continuity is broken, it's not just young people who have to leave or families who cannot become independent. A much more valuable and much less visible structure is also weakened: social infrastructure.

We often think that the infrastructure of a territory is roads, ports, hospitals, and schools. But there is another equally essential infrastructure. It is formed by grandparents who can help raise grandchildren, children who can care for their parents when they get old, siblings who live nearby, neighbors who know and help each other, trusted shops, sports clubs, cultural associations, and schools that keep a community alive all year round.

This infrastructure is not built with cement. It is built with time, stability, and roots. It needs decades to become strong and very little time to deteriorate.

Residential continuity is what allows this social infrastructure to exist.

Therefore, it is not a matter of left or right. It is a matter of community. It affects us all, because we would all want our children to be able to live nearby, our parents to be able to grow old surrounded by family, our towns to maintain life throughout the year, and for no one to have to give up their ties because they can no longer afford to live where they have always lived.

The housing crisis has made this problem visible, but the challenge is deeper. Housing is not just a roof. It is the physical infrastructure that allows a community's social infrastructure to exist.

Without accessible housing for the resident population, the community fragments. Families disperse, young people delay or abandon their life projects, essential workers have difficulty staying, and many towns lose their daily life.

The Balearic Islands have always been open to the world. This openness is part of our history and our prosperity. But one thing is to open up and incorporate new people, new ideas, and new opportunities, and quite another is for the territory's economic success to end up expelling those who sustain it every day.

For centuries, many people have emigrated because they could not find opportunities in their places of origin. Today, in the Balearic Islands, there are young people and families who are leaving, not because they lack work or a future, but because they cannot find a place to live. This says a lot about the moment we are living in.

Protecting residential continuity does not mean excluding anyone. It means ensuring that the community that has built, sustains, and gives life to this territory can continue to be part of it.

It means protecting the teachers who educate our children, the healthcare professionals who care for us, the shopkeepers who keep the towns open, the workers who make the economy run, and the families who pass on a way of life built over generations.

A society is not rich solely because it generates more income. It is also rich when it allows people not to have to give up their family, their connections, and their community to continue living there. This is, perhaps, one of the most discreet and profound forms of prosperity.

Perhaps the time has come to understand that residential continuity is also a collective good. Just as we protect the landscape, because it is part of our heritage, we must also protect the community that gives it life.

Because an island is not just the land we inherit. It is also the people who live there, who work there, who raise their children there, who care for their parents, and who keep the schools, shops, organizations, and public services open.

The question, therefore, is no longer just what landscape we want to leave our children. It is also about what community we want to continue inhabiting that landscape.

Because a landscape can be preserved for centuries. A community, on the other hand, can be lost in a single generation.