The legacy of a life and a struggle
The lessons learned from Xisco Antich will stay with many of us for a lifetime. As will the pain of his loss, which will now be with us forever. However, the best way to cope with the immense void left by a figure like Xisco is by transforming his ideas into policies; his character into our understanding of politics; and his civic commitment into our way of being in the world.
Having him as a personal and political role model—and as an incomparable colleague and friend—was an immense privilege for those of us who believe in social justice and honest politics. His commitment to dialogue and his constant efforts toward understanding, agreement, and harmony were not merely tools for governing these islands from a heterogeneous and diverse perspective. They went far beyond that. It meant combining with excellence the noble activity of politics, the vocation of public service, with the essential long-term, panoramic, and profound vision that pluralism provides.
Xisco not only knew how to listen and work as part of a team, but he also knew how to lead the construction of a small country, a fragile yet cohesive territory, which, during his years as president, experienced great strides in environmental matters, social rights, feminist policies, and in the defense of our culture, our language, our territory, and our history. No one questions, for example, the benefits of a tourist tax aimed at mitigating the negative effects of tourism on our islands, but the first ecotax in the Archipelago was implemented under Xisco Antich. Nor does anyone question the importance of implementing quotas that allow women to access positions of responsibility and decision-making power, but the first electoral lists using a "zipper" format, seeking parity but also female visibility, were those championed by Xisco Antich. Everyone understands the importance of having a Housing Department that provides a real response to the most serious problem facing our society today, and it was the Government of Xisco Antich that was the first to create it and to approve in Parliament a neighborhood law to transform our cities into spaces that guarantee decent housing.
He therefore possessed great political vision. A brilliant analytical ability, firm principles that helped him structure his thinking, his strategy, his political tactics. But he also had an empathy and honesty that undoubtedly enabled him to do what he did. As mayor of Algaida, as a member of the Consell de Mallorca, as president of the Balearic Government, as a member of Congress, as a senator. He was, above all, a good person. He did what he did because he believed in it, and he supported those around him until they found their own convictions; then, he inspired them to fight for them. He advised those who had doubts and listened to everyone: young, old, party members, allies, and political adversaries.
That's why it would probably sadden him to see, a year after his passing, that there are leaders willing to destroy a legacy he conceived and so many built. It would sadden him, I have no doubt, but I also know that he wouldn't let this sadness hold him back; quite the opposite, he would use it as a springboard to reverse this situation. With his leadership, he would encourage all democrats to defend what is currently under threat: public healthcare, public education, long-term care, democratic memory—especially at a time like this, when so many people are beginning to see tempting alternatives in populist proposals and ghosts of the past that would deprive us of rights and freedoms. He would give us the strength to continue advocating for a clear, decisive, and transformative response to the housing crisis: because a society that cannot afford a place to live is a fragmented society denied the possibility of a future.
If he were still with us today, he would help us always remember that we are a land of welcome, just as other lands were for our parents and godparents; that solidarity doesn't depend on skin color, religion, or language. He would assure us that a people proud of their language and roots is a people of the future. He would encourage us not to waste another minute in developing bold policies against climate change. He would tell us that fighting social inequality and building mechanisms that guarantee equity is the only way to give meaning to the word 'progress.' Because moving forward without leaving anyone behind is the only way to do it. Antich would help us not to falter, not to be complacent, not to resign ourselves.
Xisco, the politician, the colleague, the friend, would do all these things with a smile, in a friendly tone, with warmth, but tirelessly. That's why his absence hurts so much, because he was a light, a guide who was always both in front of you and beside you. But precisely for that reason, because of that inspiring force with which he dedicated himself to improving the Islands that were his home, it is our duty to continue his legacy. His ideas are more alive than ever, his dedication is more necessary than ever, and his struggle, now more than ever, must be the struggle of all progressives.