"How can you not go out on the street if you can die at the door of a hospital?"

PalmDriss smiles and pauses for a moment in the Palma hair salon where he works while he considers whether to comment on the protests of thousands of young Moroccans in his country. They are demanding improvements in healthcare, education, job creation, and, ultimately, social justice. Decent living conditions. "Of course I understand them. How could I not?" he asks. They organized themselves through social media and digital platforms under the name GenZ212 (the generation to which they belong and the international telephone code for Morocco) to take to the streets of cities like Casablanca, Marrakech, Agadir, and Tangier, among others. Driss, 33, understands them because he was one of those disillusioned, frustrated, and angry young people who demanded changes to the system.

A law graduate, he searched for work for years. "I found nothing. If you want to access any government-related site, you have to pay the corrupt. My mother received an 80 euro widow's pension, and I received 150 at a hair salon. I traded my pens and law books for scissors and a hair clipper. I had no choice. Tired of the situation, he scraped together a loan—collected from his relatives—and paid 6,000 euros to cross the sea in a speedboat. He arrived in Palma three years ago. "I know perfectly well the day I said 'I'm leaving Morocco.' I saw an interview in which the Minister of Justice boasted that his son had two degrees and a position in the administration thanks to his wealth. He said it like this: 'Because I have a lot of money.' Why should I continue fighting in a country that didn't offer me anything?"

25 days camping

The deaths of several pregnant women due to lack of medical care have sparked the GenZ212 protests, which have resulted in clashes with the police, property damage, more than 400 arrests, 300 injuries, and three deaths. "I protested many times with other students when I lived there. The police beat us. They never achieved anything. I even camped for 25 days outside my city hall demanding opportunities and advancement. I live in an area where there wasn't even a public gynecologist," he says, showing photos on his cell phone. "Look, this one has a degree in Philosophy; this one, in Geography. Neither of them has gotten a job because of their studies. One is now in Almería. The other sells fruit in Morocco," he continues.

Nearly 30,000 Moroccan citizens reside in the Balearic Islands (2021 data) and experience from a distance this call for social dialogue and greater transparency in a country governed by Aziz Akhannouch, considered the second richest man in the country—after King Mohammed VI—with an estimated fortune of around 140 million. "He has many businesses, of all kinds. The situation in the healthcare system is very worrying. They steal machinery from public hospitals to take it to private ones. Corruption is at all levels," says Driss. A few meters from his hair salon in the Pere Garau neighborhood, Ahmed (40 years old, 20 years in Mallorca) is having a coffee at the bar of a bar run by his compatriots. "I came because there was no future. It's sad to think that young people today feel the same way. I understand their protests, although I don't agree with the use of violence. The government should know that we're fed up with being deceived, that they're not giving us our rights," he opines, speaking in the plural as if he'd never left Morocco. He finishes his coffee before denouncing inflation, an insufficient average salary (300 euros), and youth unemployment close to 50%. "The daily wage barely reaches 10 euros, and not everyone earns that much. How do you explain that fruit is more expensive than in Spain when we're an agricultural country? They steal for them. How can you not want to flee from that or go out on the street if you can die on the doorstep of a hospital or waiting for an appointment?" he criticizes.

Hakim has run a bar in the neighborhood for almost 30 years. He condemns the violence, but maintains that his country "has everything." "It's full of thieves," he adds, although he supports the World Cup that Morocco will host alongside Spain and Portugal in 2030 as an ambitious event that can generate wealth in the country. However, the young people who have taken to the streets see the €459 million it will cost to renovate five stadiums and build a new one as an obscene expense that should be invested in healthcare and education. All this in a country where high-speed trains and luxury hotels for growing tourism coexist with the poverty of the lower classes and the desperation of those affected by the 2023 earthquake, who "cover what's left of their houses with plastic," according to Driss, because public aid isn't arriving.

As a Moroccan civil servant who has held diplomatic positions, Abdul's vision, albeit with nuances, aligns with the government's. "We shouldn't talk about a revolution, but rather a demonstration. There have been some actions mismanaged by the health administration, including deaths after childbirth. It's legitimate for people to demonstrate for a change of power, and that can't be done violently. The change has begun with the government ensuring that it has doubled the budget for education and healthcare, which have a high standard, and for people who live with fewer resources, but who can live and eat, with a quality of vegetables and fruit that isn't available anywhere else," she notes, defending the average salary of 300 euros. "In healthcare, there is work to be done. My children, who have studied abroad and have salaries of 2,000 euros and lack nothing, have taken to the streets in Morocco in solidarity with those who have less," she continues, before launching a request to Generation Z: "They have to commit to not voting. They exercise their right in the elections."

"We will emigrate, we will emigrate"

Oussama left Morocco seven years ago. As a child, he recalls, it was like a game and a mantra to repeat the phrase "we will emigrate, we will emigrate" among friends when they saw people from the neighborhood arrive, talking wonders about life in Europe. "You grow up hearing Moroccans who come on vacation talk wonders about life abroad, with expensive cars and good clothes. This is your model, and you convince yourself that you have no future there. You think that leaving Morocco will give you a better life and everything will be easy. It's not. It's very difficult. I can live peacefully and send money home to my family. I know people in my neighborhood with serious illnesses who have been scheduled to be in the hospital for three years. People don't get on a boat just because they think they'll get rich. In Morocco, if you want to register, you have to pay the amount shown at the counter. If not, they won't stamp the paperwork. If you need something from the neighborhood police officer, you know you'll have to give him money. There's no security." Of course, I would have gone out onto the street like these young people," he adds.

Driss places the hair clippers, points towards the street and says: "I have not been able to be a lawyer, but I thank Spain and the people of this neighborhood every day for being able to live in peace. I know that if I have a problem, the police will help me. And if I am sick, they will cure me. I hope that one day in Morocco we can live like here."

The names in this report are fictitious to protect the privacy of the witnesses.