“Those who do not know their history are destined to repeat it.” But what if people do know their history and repeat it again?
For us, the people of Lanzarote, the recent history of our island is no secret, especially the last part. It is rather a cry, an exclamation of the strength of an island that was transformed. Main actors such as Pepín Ramírez or César Manrique are part of the popular imagination and, with it, of its history. However, we find ourselves again at the same point as 40 years ago: in that island that was beginning to be invaded by buildings without any order, turning into a concrete jungle, in the midst of demonstrations to avoid tourist overdose. Because, although tourism is the largest part of the Canarian economy —and, therefore, of Lanzarote—, it is also one of the reasons for poverty in the archipelago, not only economic, but also biological and identity. Little by little, the islands lose what made them unique, what made them shine on the map and not become a couple of helpless islands in no man's land.
It is necessary to make a small aside: the tourist is not the main culprit of these evils, as many people may think or even proclaim. In the end, the tourist is another element that also suffers the consequences of this loss. The greatest enemy of the Canarian people, in Manrique's terms, are the chieftains, or in other words, island politics. In the end, the politician does not represent the interests of the people, but their own, either for their name to shine in headlines about economic growth or for the desire for a congratulation disguised as progress.
And the thing is, if the pandemic that shook and stopped everything five years ago taught us anything, it is that this model is insufficient to sustain an island like Lanzarote and, consequently, the rest of the archipelago. Let's remember that popular phrase: “bread for today, hunger for tomorrow.” As always, popular sayings are right about what will happen in the future if we continue to allow the destruction of our Lanzarote without rhyme or reason, selling every square meter to the highest bidder, without even taking into account the struggles that have brought us to where we are today. Without thinking about natural spaces, without thinking about people, all for an excessive ambition to have more and more.
It has already happened in other places. A good example is the Caribbean island of Puerto Rico. This is reflected in the promotional short of the album Debí Tirar más Fotos by the Puerto Rican artist Bad Bunny. In one scene, the protagonist decides to go buy a snack and goes to a bakery. On the way he comes across numerous American families listening to country music. Upon arrival, when placing his order, the clerk attends him in English. Then, when paying, they inform him that they only accept cards, not cash. In some way, we, the Canarian people, see ourselves reflected in these situations: we live the hidden face of globalization and the total conversion to tourism. We see it, for example, in the south of our neighbor Tenerife, where the inhabitant himself is seen as a foreigner in his own land.
Therefore, I add my inkwell not only to describe the situation we are experiencing, this never-ending vicious circle, but also to join the multitude that already fought with César in Los Pocillos in '88, the people who mobilized in the already historic 20A —which has sadly fallen into oblivion— and for all those people who will fight for the uncertain future that awaits us in the islands.
