Carmen and her 13-year-old son, on the verge of eviction and with no alternative: I feel abandoned by the administration

The Valencia Formula One project has become a symbol of public money wasted on a failed infrastructure, with its once-promising vision now reduced to a derelict land where thousands live without basic services. The site, once envisioned as a grand legacy for future generations, was championed by former Valencia regional president Francisco Camps in 2008. He spoke of a “cost-free” initiative that would bring glamour, VIP access, and top-tier motorsport to the city. Today, however, the dream has turned into a financial and humanitarian disaster. Over 300 million euros have been spent on a project that collapsed, leaving behind a neglected area where nearly a thousand people survive without running water, electricity, or waste management. The situation has escalated to the point where the Valencian Ombudsman has launched an investigation into the lack of public services. Residents living in makeshift settlements near the old race track describe their daily struggles. Ramón Pérez, a local activist with València És Refugi, explains how they rely on bottled water and self-sufficiency because the authorities provide nothing. “We ask for shovels or buckets to clean these plots, but no one comes,” he says. The area, once bustling with activity during the Formula One races, is now marked by abandoned cars, rusted gates, and scattered debris. Police rarely visit, and when they do, they often mistake residents for litterers. “They stopped us because they thought we were throwing trash,” Pérez recalls. “We showed them our car’s trunk and invited them to help, but they haven’t returned since.” The site, located in one of Valencia’s most expensive neighborhoods, the Grao, was originally intended as a high-profile investment. It borders the Port of Valencia, the beach of La Malvarrosa, and the City of Arts and Sciences. In recent years, this area has transformed into a hotspot for luxury real estate, with rents reaching over 1,400 euros per month. Yet, alongside the upscale developments, makeshift homes built from wood, metal, and plastic have emerged. These informal settlements house people from diverse backgrounds, including Saharawi, Spanish, Moroccan, Algerian, and Polish migrants. Some suffer from serious health issues, such as limb loss or the need for dialysis. In a surprising twist, the city council has approved plans to build a new residential neighborhood atop the former race track. This development, led by the investment fund Atitlán, owned by Roberto Centeno, son-in-law of Mercadona’s owner, and Aritza Rodero, will include 3,200 homes, 708 of which will receive public support. The project is positioned as one of the most valuable in the city, yet it raises concerns about displacement. Residents currently living there, who have made the space their home despite lacking formal recognition, face the threat of being forced out. Their survival in these margins has become a painful reminder of the corruption and mismanagement that characterized the region under the Popular Party. The financial fallout continues to worsen. The city still owes the Regional Government 42 million euros for roadwork and drainage systems constructed for the Formula One circuit. An agreement between the city and the regional government means that half of this debt will fall on residents through land concessions. This adds another layer of burden to a community already struggling with basic necessities. Meanwhile, in Barcelona, similar housing crises unfold. Carmen, a mother of two, faces eviction after seven years of living in a squatted apartment in the Sant Martí district. Her landlord, a company called Hipoges based in Madrid, refuses to offer her a social rental agreement, preferring instead to pay fines rather than accommodate her. With no alternative, she risks losing her home and her child. “I feel abandoned by the administration,” she says. Her case reflects a broader pattern: in Barcelona, emergency shelters have become the primary response to homelessness, despite being designed as temporary solutions. Over 3,200 people, mostly families with children, reside in these facilities, many staying more than six months. The city has increased its budget for these services, but the system remains overwhelmed. Carmen's options are limited. Social services can only offer her three days in a shelter, which is inadequate for raising a child. The city’s emergency housing list includes over 700 families, but the average wait time is four years. Meanwhile, the municipality offers a monthly allowance of up to 1,500 euros, but finding affordable housing remains impossible given her circumstances. The city acknowledges the difficulty of securing affordable housing and admits to systemic discrimination based on socioeconomic and racial factors. Since July 2025, only 30 families have successfully left emergency housing through this program. Across Spain, political parties continue to block requests for designated zones for affordable housing, particularly in areas where property prices have skyrocketed. At least 41 such applications have been denied, highlighting the ongoing struggle between private interests and public welfare. As both Valencia and Barcelona grapple with the consequences of past policies, the human cost becomes increasingly evident. For those living in the shadows of progress, the promise of stability and security seems ever further away.