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A people's housing Justice movement against the Spanish eviction crisis provides a model for making change.
While stopping evictions is the PAH’s [Platform for People Affected by Mortgages, or Plataforma de Afectados por la Hipoteca] most well-known activity, the movement only began to use civil disobedience as a tactic of resistance out of necessity. Foreclosure processes tend to move slowly and a series of other problems must be resolved before eviction is imminent. At some point, people in the assembly started getting eviction notices, but the first ones to receive them didn’t feel the strength to try and resist the police kicking them out. In 2010, PAH Barcelona was approached by a man named Lluís who had just received a date for eviction from his house in La Bisbal del Penedès. He was desperate, claiming that he’d rather fill his house with butane canisters and blow it up, than to hand it over to the bank. At the PAH, they quickly understood the need for an alternative solution.
The platform’s founders realized that at some point they would have to resort to direct action to stop evictions, but they didn’t think they’d be capable of it... until they were forced to. To stop Lluís’ eviction, they armed themselves with a strong narrative, echoing the legal and ethical arguments against eviction, and an energetic communication campaign that included signs, banners, and media coverage. Moreover, the entire action was recorded.
They knew they had to avoid violence, and when the judicial delegation arrived, the activists did not physically engage them, but simply blocked the entrance to the house, tried to talk them out of evicting Lluís and refused to move. There was little the two police officers could do, and the eviction was postponed. Two days later, the PAH released the video of the demonstration, providing proof of what would later become one of the movement’s slogans: “Sí se puede!”

Civil disobedience as a tactic to stop evictions became part of the PAH’s regular activity. “What we have to do to stop evictions has become so normalized that when we talk about it at the assembly, we don’t speak in terms of ‘we’re engaging in civil disobedience,’ although that is what we do, and perhaps we should reflect more on that,” ponders Berni from PAHC Bages. “The PAH emerged at a time when thousands of evictions for mortgage defaults were taking place and the issue affected a lot of people who thought they were middle class; in the public discourse, everyone saw that this was something dramatic and unfair,” recalls Emma from PAHC Sabadell. “The fact that in this context, a group of people spoke out to draw attention to this injustice and engaged in nonviolent but active civil disobedience led to the success of the PAH model and its acceptance within society,” she concludes.
“The experience of protesting inside a bank with fifty people is really fulfilling, it takes away your fear and it empowers you.”
To ensure that the platform’s civil disobedience continues to be successful, it’s vitally important for it to preserve that legitimacy. That means being able to justify each and every action as legitimate. Although it will sometimes react to emergency situations, the PAH only takes action on evictions affecting people already involved in the platform. At their assemblies, PAH groups make it clear that they’re not an eviction prevention service, but that they work on the basis of mutual support and only try to block evictions when the people being evicted do not have proper alternative housing.
Beyond the general idea behind these actions—to resist peacefully at the entrance to the building to prevent the judicial delegation from entering—they must be carefully planned and roles must be assigned to make sure everything runs smoothly. If there are minors in the family’s care, a solution must be found to ensure that they aren’t in the house at the time when the eviction is scheduled. It’s very important to support the family, who might be out on the street with their compas, or prefer to resist from inside their home. It’s also very important to remember that the action revolves around their interests and they must be kept informed of what’s happening and able to make decisions when necessary.
Outside, the aim is to keep people’s spirits up while they wait for the judicial delegation to arrive, which might take the whole morning. It’s important to have people to energize the protest in creative ways and give directions. Although people can move around, someone must be responsible for making sure that the door is always protected.
It’s also important to decide in advance how to communicate the purpose and legitimacy of the action to the public, and who will be in charge of communicating with the authorities and the media, rather than leaving it to be decided on the spot.
It’s also helpful to consider preparing the affected person how to deal with the press, if necessary. The movement’s social media presence and its relationship with the media are also very important, as these are tools that can be used to amplify the PAH’s demands and reinforce its legitimacy.

The PAH has an extensive repertoire of actions that goes far beyond stopping evictions. In fact, stopping an eviction is not usually the final solution, but a postponement that should make it possible to find a more permanent answer to the problem. This might require action against financial institutions, public authorities or water, electricity, and gas companies. Besides taking action in support of specific cases, big demonstrations can be called to target the institutions responsible for the problems faced by many families.
“I remember the first time we occupied a bank, back in 2010 or 2011. We occupied Caixa Catalunya and the riot police came to kick us out; that was ecstasy, a real high, and then the fear disappeared,” says Delia from PAH Barcelona. “The experience of protesting inside a bank with fifty people is really fulfilling, it takes away your fear and it empowers you.” Many people emphasize the strength of collective action; sometimes the mere act of covering a bank with posters condemning its actions is very powerful. “Wallpapering is a high, an outlet for your rage; you can take out all the hatred you’ve built up inside and stick it all over the institution,” says Juan Luis from PAH Torrevieja.
That’s where the festive tone and creativity of the PAH’s actions come in. Even if you’re protesting against a very difficult issue, you have to make room for joy. If you occupy a bank, you can use the leaflets that are there for anyone to take as confetti and play music or put up balloons and banners. “It wiped away my fear of the bank when I saw how all the employees could leave and the office would be left alone, occupied by activists,” says Juan Luis. The PAH manages to paralyze the bank’s activity without confronting anyone or even directly hindering its work. The movement’s actions are simply intended to make its presence felt because the bank is unwilling to continue its activity in these conditions.
Of course, everyone experiences these actions in their own way and that’s why some groups in Madrid organize what they call “fear workshops.” “These are workshops for people to learn how to act during an action: how to avoid losing their temper or falling for police provocation, how to rely on colleagues. In short, how to overcome yourself so that you can go to the protest, even if you’re afraid, because nothing is going to happen to you in 90 percent of the cases,” explains Alejandra from PAVPS [Platform for People Affected by Public and Social Housing], Madrid.
It’s also important to think about how to look after people in these protests. This can be done, for example, by warning when there’s a possibility that the police show up and recommending that people in an irregular administrative situation stay away to avoid unnecessary risks. “Besides that, they tell you how to act or how to hold onto another person so that they don’t hurt you if they’re trying to remove you by force,” adds Francisco from PAH Barcelona.
This excerpt is adapted from Yes, It’s Possible! A Handbook for Building Power by João França and The Platform for People Affected by Mortgages, published by Common Notions. Copyright (c) 2026 Common Notions. All rights reserved. Do not republish.
"Tenants in Minnesota are in a crisis," said Minneapolis City Council Member Aisha Chughtai. "The federal invasion forced many of our neighbors to stay home and devastated our local economy."
Tenant and labor unions in Minneapolis and St. Paul have announced plans to carry out what they said would be the "largest rent strike in the United States in the last 100 years."
Beginning on March 1, if Democratic Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz does not meet their urgent demands for an eviction moratorium and rent relief, a coalition of nearly 26,000 workers has pledged to withhold rent, which they said could create a massive economic disruption.
The plans were announced on Tuesday by the tenants union Twin Cities Tenants, which is joined by five labor unions: Service Employees International Union (SEIU) Local 26, SEIU Healthcare Minnesota/Iowa, UNITE HERE Local 17, the Amalgamated Transit Union (ATU) 1005, and Communication Workers of America (CWA) 7250.
They argued that a freeze on rents is desperately needed after "nearly three months of federal occupation" under President Donald Trump's "Operation Metro Surge," which sent nearly 3,000 Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and other immigration agents to the area, resulting in multiple fatal shootings and a wave of civil rights violations, including explicit racial profiling.
The unions said the daily presence of militarized agents "has taken a painful economic toll on poor and working-class tenants across the Twin Cities."
"Over 35,000 low-income Twin Cities households were already unable to afford the rent before the federal siege," they said. "Estimates show over $47 million in lost wages among people who have not been safe to go to work, and at least $15.7 million in additional rental assistance needed due to lost household income—leaving many of those households at imminent risk of eviction."
Evictions in Hennepin County spiked by 45% between this January and last, while requests for financial assistance have nearly doubled, according to a report this month from the Minnesota Spokesman-Recorder.
As the federal siege wore on and immigrants remained trapped in their homes, community members raised tens of thousands of dollars through GoFundMe campaigns. But it proved far too little to help the thousands of families suddenly at risk of losing their homes.
On January 30, tenant organizers, union members, and other local activists staged a sit-in at the Minneapolis Public Housing Authority and called for an immediate halt to evictions. Another group gathered outside the governor's mansion in St. Paul.
“We’re here today because federal immigration enforcement, eviction courts, and the police power of the state are converging to terrorize the same families,” said Jess Zarik, co-executive director of HOME Line. “Housing instability is being used as a weapon, and the scale of this crisis is unlike anything we’ve seen in our 34-year history.”
While city and state leaders have fought back rhetorically against the Trump administration's highest-profile abuses—including the shootings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti by agents last month—and called for accountability, organizers said they've been slow to remedy the wider effects it has had on working-class residents across the Twin Cities.
“A lot of people just can’t get to and from work because ICE has been stopping random cars on the road, largely based on what they think the skin color of the driver is,” said Klyde Warren, a Minneapolis renter and Twin Cities Tenants organizer. “How are you supposed to go to work and make money to pay your rent in those conditions? The answer is a lot of people just can’t right now, but the eviction courts are still operating as if things are normal and they’re not normal.”
Last week, Walz's office told Axios that the governor "does not currently have the legal authority to enact an eviction moratorium."
Walz enacted an eviction moratorium in early spring 2020, which tenant organizers said allowed renters to stay home safely to avoid risks from the Covid-19 pandemic. He did this using what is known as a "peacetime emergency" declaration, which allows the governor to circumvent typical rulemaking procedures during extraordinary circumstances.
The city councils of both Minneapolis and St. Paul voted unanimously last month for nonbinding resolutions calling on Walz to take similar action to protect vulnerable residents from displacement.
"Tenants in Minnesota are in a crisis. The federal invasion forced many of our neighbors to stay home and devastated our local economy," said Minneapolis City Council Member Aisha Chughtai (D-10). "We need real solutions for the cliff of the rental crisis we are facing on March 1."
"I will be going on rent strike on March 1, and I call on my constituents to join me, until we can get a real solution from our state government for this crisis," she said.
Even as ICE's operation draws to a close, some agents are still deployed and arresting Twin Cities residents. Organizers said that even after the surge itself ends, the economic fallout will need to be addressed.
"We absolutely need an eviction moratorium," said Geof Paquette, the internal organizing director at UNITE HERE Local 17. "Our members were struggling to keep up with housing costs before ICE occupied our streets. It has now become an emergency as many of our members are behind in their rent. It's well past time for some relief."
The unions have estimated that if just 10,000 of their members withheld their rent, it could cause $15 million in economic disruption and pressure the city and state government into action.
"The people of Minneapolis and St. Paul have shown the way, fighting a federal invasion and caring for their neighbors; their fight and their care continue in this historic rent strike," said Tara Raghuveer, director of the Tenant Union Federation. "Tenants and workers have decided that... they have no other choice but to strike. In taking this step, they join a storied tradition of struggle. The struggle can end whenever the governor steps in to do what's right."
What drives the preference of landlords to call themselves “housing providers” is a desire to euphemize the landlord-tenant relationship and to obscure some of its basic and most important features.
Landlords want to be called “housing providers.” Industry organizations in California, Washington, Rhode Island, and elsewhere are proudly claiming the label. Equal to this craving to be called “housing providers,” it seems, is the wish among landlords to no longer be called landlords. The term is antiquated, they say, and has a negative stigma that doesn’t reflect reality. The industry is not particularly secretive about these desires or the reasons behind them, which have to do with image and narrative.
The dictionary definition of landlord is precise enough, however, and, in fact, couldn’t be plainer: “The owner of property (such as land, houses, or apartments) that is leased or rented to another,” according to Merriam-Webster.com. The definition identifies the essential feature of any residential landlord—that they engage in a financial transaction to lease living space. This seems straightforward enough and noncontroversial. The motivation of the industry is thus not related to any mismatch between our common understanding of the word and its most essential attribute.
Instead, what drives the preference of landlords to call themselves “housing providers” is a type of Orwellian doublespeak intended to euphemize the landlord-tenant relationship and to obscure some of its basic and most important features. What does the phrase obscure? For one, it elides the basic extractive nature of landlording, the fact that landlords expect, in fact, rely upon the relationship to be monetarily profitable to them. This is the critical fact of landlording, that it is done in the main to make a profit.
Granted there are some instances of landlords renting to family members or others without expectations of profit, but these exceptions are merely that—exceptions. The English language routinely makes distinctions between services rendered for a fee and those provided on other bases. The difference between “housing provider” and landlord is the difference between a date and a paid escort or sex worker, it is the difference between the volunteer and the mercenary, between a financial gift and an interest-bearing loan. The English language is not unique in containing words that make clear the monetary exchange and profit that define some relationships. We use these words because the information they contain is consequential.
If the landlord industry truly wants to do something to burnish its public image, it might consider publicly rejecting or sanctioning members of its community who hiked rents in Los Angeles County by 20% in the aftermath of the fires of January 2025.
This attempt to obscure the profit motive in landlording is all the more problematic because those who would call themselves “housing providers” in one breath, will, in the next, argue against rent stabilization, tenant protections, and other regulations on the basis that these policies make their business unprofitable, or less profitable than they would prefer. This is wanting it both ways—attempting to hide the profit motive while simultaneously insisting on it.
“Housing provider” is also meant to conceal the power dynamics of the landlord-tenant relationship, one in which landlords hold the privileges associated with property ownership, the ability to define the terms of acceptable behavior and limits of property use available to tenants, and the ultimate power of eviction. Moreover, at a time when corporate landlords are extending their reach into the market, and we see the spread of price-fixing algorithms to maximize rents and profit, AI-driven tenant screening algorithms to perform background checks, and greater concentration and market power at the industry scale, the insistence on the phrase “housing provider” is an obvious attempt at happy-faced distraction.
Just as important as the attempt to disguise profit motive and landlord power is the effort to dodge whatever negative connotations attach to the term landlord. “Housing provider” is meant to avoid images of rapaciousness and greed, or to conjure images of benevolence and even charity, or to do both. The use of the phrase is, in other words, an attempt, acknowledged by the industry, to control a narrative. As such it is a political act, an effort to persuade and to establish a particular understanding of who landlords are and what they do, all in the service of influencing public debate and public policy. This is not to argue that tenants don’t also try to influence the public narrative; of course they do. It is merely to note that this phrase, “housing provider,” is a calculated bid to construct meaning in a highly contested policy area and it needs to be recognized as such. Those who choose to adopt the phrase choose to adopt the narrative.
If the landlord industry truly wants to do something to burnish its public image, it might consider publicly rejecting or sanctioning members of its community who hiked rents in Los Angeles County by 20% in the aftermath of the fires of January 2025. It might help to police property owners who evicted tenants during the pandemic in violation of federal and local laws. It might take action to address sexual harassment of low-income women by landlords, or address any of a number of discriminatory or exploitative practices that haunt the industry. Those wishing to hide behind the “housing provider” label will argue that not all landlords are bad, which is of course true. They will say only a portion of landlords engage in the practices that give landlord its stigma. But, if the only response by the industry is to stop using the word landlord, it betrays a self-serving concern that does little to improve negative public perceptions and, in fact, largely confirms them.
We don’t call Exxon an “oil provider,” nor do we call GM an “automobile provider.” We don’t even call the corner mom-and-pop store a “grocery provider.” There is no reason to accept the kind of politically motivated doublespeak behind the rise of “housing provider.”