"It's not immigration, it's Islam": Vox's narrative before the royal Manacor

PalmIn Youssef's bar, four glasses of steaming tea sit on the counter. Customers take them while he returns to the kitchen to finish a late afternoon snack. Along Manacor's train avenue, there are many other businesses like his, coexisting with local shops. A few days ago, the president of the Balearic Parliament and leader of Vox in the Balearic Islands, Gabriel Le Senne, filmed videos nearby chatting with local residents to denounce the "Islamization," the presence of "Moorish barbershops and businesses," and streets that "look like Morocco." The discourse wasn't new, but it was more precise: the attack on the immigration It's not abstract but directed at Islam and, by extension, at Moroccans.

Mohamed takes a sip of tea. He is 46 years old. He arrived in Manacor in 1999. "I started harvesting melons and watermelons. There were still pesetas. And I got by with the help of my family and by working hard. To Vox, I will only say that my flag is that of the country that feeds me, the one I respect. They won't take my bread away," he affirms, "just as they will take my bread away."

"I do want to talk about Vox"

Nasim listens from a nearby table, stands up, and, his eyes filled with determination, says, "I do want to talk about Vox." He arrived in Manacor at the age of five, when "there were only four Moroccan houses." He studied at the city's schools, grew up playing soccer with his friends, maintains friendships from those years, and works in the family construction business, which employs local residents. "We're from Manacor. I have a national ID card and I vote in the elections. My son was born here, and I think what Vox is doing is very unfair. Before, there was no feeling like this. Now it's all about religion and hate."

He speaks quickly and frankly: "What do you want me to tell you? That if you call a landlord and say your name they won't rent you the apartment, but if you say you're Tomeu they ask for your ID via WhatsApp?" We are among the most highly valued among immigrants.We get up at six in the morning to work, but no matter what we do, it's never enough. This is racism. It didn't happen before: now they give you dirty looks in a bar, or you feel in the Social Security queue that 'if someone comes to ask for help, we already know who they'll give it to.'

Nassim doesn't respond to these comments: "I've learned not to care if they call me 'Moor' with contempt." If we had problems, we wouldn't have lived together for 30 years without conflict. We don't talk about politics, we talk about working and having a decent life."

Abdelilah's arguments are almost identical to Nassim's, and his story is similar. He has lived 34 of his 37 years in Manacor. "We're Spanish, Mallorcan, from Manacor, self-employed, and I pay all my taxes. And I keep quiet when I think, 'These damn people come here asking for handouts.' What handouts? If you pay into the system, you're entitled to unemployment benefits. If you meet the requirements, you get them. If not, you don't. Where am I supposed to fit in? You celebrate Holy Week, I celebrate it, and you celebrate Holy Week, I celebrate it; life here is good and pleasant."

Yassim is 50 years old and has lived in Manacor for 24 years. Before giving a pseudonym, he jokingly suggests being called 'Señor Moro' (Mr. Moor). And he laughs. He runs a bazaar. "I know everyone in town, and of course, I see people come in, see my face on the counter, and leave. It means something's up, but I know it won't change anything. Vox won't change Spanish politics because we're part of this society and we contribute to the economy."

Next to Yassim's bazaar, José tends the bar at one of Manacor's old-fashioned bars, a Balearic Islands flag hanging in the window. He hasn't seen the Vox videos and isn't interested in them. "I'm never going to vote. Everyone has the right to get ahead. I have nothing to say about the Moroccan community, except that I've never had any problems getting along with them."

Pay taxes

Catalina, a sales assistant in a clothing store, begins the same way. "They've never caused any problems. They've always gotten along very well. I have nothing against them," she says before adding a "but..." and explaining that her son had to wait for a place at school because there were "places reserved for them," that "they receive aid", that "go with pigs "Better than the locals," "They take over the local businesses," and "They don't pay as many taxes or sidewalk fees." "More oversight is needed," he suggests.

The data debunks many of these perceptions. Manacor has 53,528 inhabitants. 7.9% of the population comes from Central and South American countries. Spaniards still make up the absolute majority.

Manacor City Council is adamant: there are no financial aid programs or tax breaks based on origin. All businesses pay for occupying public space. Any preferential treatment would be illegal and unconstitutional. The main problem for local businesses is the lack of generational succession, not the opening of businesses by immigrants.

Focus on a group

For Guillermo Bezzina, a political scientist at Passes Perdudes, the answer to this situation lies in the discourse of the far right. "Vox no longer talks so much about immigration as about Islam." It's not a subtle distinction. "The word 'immigration' has been replaced by 'Islamophobia' because it's more acceptable to focus on a specific group than to talk about all immigrants." The goal is to broaden their electoral base. "Vox doesn't want to appear racist, even though it is, because that would exclude potential voters. If the discourse is more selective, it reaches more people, even progressives."

The racism promoted by Vox is "hierarchical" and based on the idea that Islamic culture "will replace their own and curtail individual freedom." "Latin Americans fit into their narrative because they speak Spanish, are part of a Spanish project inherited from colonization, and have Christian and family values. When they talk about integration, they are defining citizenship in cultural and religious terms, not legal ones." From an isolated case, a norm is constructed. "Most people don't get their information from traditional media but from social networks, where the discourse appeals to emotion, which is easily bought."

Gut feelings trump reason, and the narrative spreads as disinformation. Meanwhile, Prohens's PP faces "the dilemma of whether or not to copy" Abascal's discourse. It hesitates between neutralizing it or joining in, "but ends up talking about the issues Vox wants to put on the agenda, such as the burka ban, in a region where it doesn't exist." "The PP doesn't want to give them a monopoly on the issues that concern their voters, but by competing with them, it reinforces Vox's framework," she adds.

Perfect enemy

Alexandre Miquel, an anthropologist, situates this discourse within a deeper logic. "When capitalism gets nervous, it needs a structural enemy. For decades the conflict was economic, but when this conflict is considered resolved, the clash becomes cultural. And that's where Islam appears as the perfect enemy." This is not an improvised construct: "Christianity presents itself as inherent to liberalism, as the foundation of modernity, freedom, and democracy. Islam, on the other hand, is constructed as its negation. This idea was formulated by Huntington, adopted by fascism, and is reproduced today by parties like Vox with hardly any variation." This enemy, he adds, is not abstract. "In the Balearic Islands, Islam is embodied in a very clear figure: the Moroccan, who embodies all the discontent." And he emphasizes a dimension that is often left out of the debate: social class. "We're talking about people who were born here, who studied here, who are trying to get to university, but who come from working-class and farming families. The real problem is one of class, but a narrative is constructed to shift the blame onto a vulnerable group."

Miquel insists that the success of the discourse has nothing to do with reality, but rather with how fear is internalized. "We don't operate rationally, but from the gut. The narrative begins by explaining something that people think they recognize, but then fear is incorporated." This mechanism is reinforced with simple phrases. "'I haven't seen it, but I know it's there.' Why? Because they saw it on TikTok." The result is a normalization of rejection: "A problem is created that didn't exist before, an entire group is stigmatized, and daily life becomes one of constant suspicion. And that, when it becomes normalized, is the most dangerous thing."

Hot tea arrives at Nassim's table, who clasps his hands to close the conversation with a statement: "Improving the country means providing jobs, more security, and eliminating unemployment. The path, of course, is not confrontation."