The recent crisis in Ceuta, the Spanish territory opposite Gibraltar on the African coast, has represented not only an immense political challenge for the Spanish government and a test of social resilience for the country as a whole. Europe itself has also been put to the test.
In just a few hours on July 30-31, more than 70,000 people—the overwhelming majority of them Moroccan—risked their lives, and more than 100 died trying to enter Spanish territory. Alongside that tragic toll, about which Rabat appears remarkably unconcerned, the episode raises serious questions about Spain’s credibility in defending its territory, the fragile stability of its two territories in North Africa (in addition to Ceuta, there is also Melilla further down the coast), the solidarity that European Union member states can expect from one another, and, ultimately, the precarious security of the EU’s southern border.
Tactical Maneuvers
Given the gravity of the situation, one might have expected the political actors involved to adopt a strategic approach. Unfortunately, what prevailed instead was a succession of tactical maneuvers, hasty decisions, partisan calculations, and critical omissions, in Madrid, Brussels, and other European capitals alike.
In Spain, the center-left government—as discussed below—and the two opposition parties all fell short. None proved capable of recognizing the exceptional nature of a moment that transcended everyday political confrontation. The center-right People’s Party missed an opportunity to behave as a statesmanlike political force and chose instead to maintain its strategy of wearing down Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez. Meanwhile, the radical right represented by Vox embraced hyperbolic nationalist rhetoric, ignoring the awkward paradox that some of the most vehement challenges to Spanish sovereignty over Ceuta and Melilla come from sectors of the American and Israeli far right, in a seemingly incongruous alignment with Moroccan irredentism.
Even more surprising—and troubling—was the reaction of most European capitals. Rather than supporting a partner facing extraordinary pressure—a country that has demonstrated its solidarity when other member states have come under attack—they issued a disappointing joint letter promoted by Italy’s Giorgia Meloni and Denmark’s Mette Frederiksen, another seemingly unlikely alliance. France and Portugal wisely declined to sign it, but Germany did. Working with incomplete, if not inaccurate, information, their sole priority appeared to be sending signals of firmness to domestic electorates uneasy about immigration.
In many capitals, there may also have been an element of political score-settling with Madrid, over its recent large-scale regularization of irregular migrants or its decision to depart from the common European position on defense spending, aimed at appeasing the Trump administration. Whatever the reason, the result is deeply regrettable: It provides Europe’s adversaries with a powerful narrative and reinforces, once again, the perception of a European Union in which member states too often prioritize national political considerations over a common strategic vision when responding to geopolitical crises.
Spain’s Contradictory Narrative
As though this were not enough, the Spanish government has not emerged unscathed from this symphony of errors. To its credit, in an extraordinarily delicate situation, it maintained its composure and avoided precipitate decisions that could easily have aggravated the crisis. Bringing an incident of this magnitude under control in just two days, without resorting to escalation, would have seemed inconceivable when the first images of chaos emerged. The management of the immediate crisis demonstrated the value of restraint, dialogue, and a humanitarian approach, even under the most adverse circumstances.
What is much harder to understand, however, is the narrative that followed. It has been characterized by contradictions and by a perplexing resistance to acknowledging the structural weaknesses of a model for managing the southern border that has repeatedly demonstrated its limitations.
Spain faces vulnerabilities along this border that can no longer be ignored. Morocco—whether through periodic relaxations of border controls, insufficient engagement, or, in the most concerning scenario, a deliberate strategy of destabilization orchestrated by King Mohammed VI and his entourage—has shown itself to be an unreliable partner to which to delegate an essential responsibility of the state: border control. Whether these failures are the result of negligence or deliberate intent, their political and humanitarian consequences are profound.
Prime Minister Sánchez himself went so far as to describe the incident as an “attack on Spain’s territorial integrity.” Yet the government’s public narrative has largely reduced the episode to a consequence of disinformation. Responsibility has been attributed exclusively to digital agitators, criminal networks, and an alleged “reactionary international,” while carefully avoiding the attribution of any responsibility—even by omission—to the neighboring country.
The reason for doing so is to prevent a further deterioration in relations with Rabat, the consequences of which might be even more serious than what has already occurred. The cost of such a partial explanation, however, is to generate frustration among the people of Ceuta and Melilla, cynicism among the Spanish public as a whole, and to encourage European partners to attribute what happened—wrongly—to a “pull factor” created by Spanish migration policy, rather than to recognize it for what it actually was: a hybrid attack.
In this respect, the remarks made by Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk are relevant. Drawing on Poland’s experience of the hybrid attacks launched by Belarus in 2021, he recalled that Warsaw responded by strengthening border security and expanding police powers. Although the two cases are not directly comparable, the parallel highlights an important point: The instrumentalization of migration by hostile state actors is no longer a controversial diagnosis, but a threat formally recognized by all EU member states, which have recently adopted legislation specifically designed to address this challenge.
Europe’s Neglected Southern Flank
For years, Spain has rightly called on the European Union and NATO to devote greater strategic attention to their southern flank. It has done so even when its allies’ attention was overwhelmingly focused on Russia, arguing that developments in North Africa could become a major source of instability for European security.
Precisely for that reason, when a crisis of this magnitude erupts on the southern border, the government cannot take refuge in an explanation that attributes it primarily to influencer campaigns and people-smuggling gangs. This reductionist narrative not only sits uneasily with its own characterization of the episode as an “attack on Spain’s territorial integrity;” it also reproduces a narrative long employed by xenophobic nationalists to discredit the role of humanitarian rescue organizations in the Mediterranean, portraying migration exclusively as the product of criminal people-smuggling networks.
In any event, these developments have disproved Prime Minister Sánchez’s categorical assertion before the Spanish parliament that the new policy toward Morocco adopted after a similar crisis in 2021—which entailed moving closer to Rabat’s position on Western Sahara—rested on “very solid foundations” that would prevent similar episodes from recurring. If the government wishes to preserve its credibility, it must therefore be willing to confront uncomfortable realities and adopt a strategy that combines coherent action both domestically and at the European level.
A Two-Pronged Strategy
At home, more honest communication—acknowledging the scale of the challenge with humility—would strengthen both public understanding and confidence in the government’s response. It is also necessary to seek dialogue with the opposition, even if the latter remains intent on political confrontation over matters of state. And, of course, considerably greater budgetary resources must be committed to Ceuta and Melilla, both to defend the border and to safeguard the stability and coexistence enjoyed by the nearly 200,000 Spanish citizens—half of them from a Muslim background—who live there.
Likewise, if Spain aspires to convince its partners of the strategic risks at stake, analytical clarity is indispensable. Credibility depends on providing a rigorous account of what happened, a realistic assessment of the different levels of responsibility, and an analysis of the likelihood that similar crises will recur. This requires looking beyond the crisis’ immediate triggers, identifying the structural vulnerabilities that made it possible, and acknowledging deliberate acts of coercion, irrespective of their origin. Ceuta and Melilla are not merely Spanish territories; they also form part of the European Union’s external border and, more broadly, of the Western security architecture. Any attempt by a third country to instrumentalize migration or exert coercive pressure on them establishes a precedent that affects every ally.
At the European level, Spain has considerable room for maneuver, provided that the government is willing to overcome its traditional reluctance to risk generating tensions with Morocco, a country that has systematically sought to prevent the Europeanization of Ceuta and Melilla. Spanish Foreign Minister José Manuel Albares has stated that Spain “demands solidarity” from its European partners. A more effective approach, however, might be to promote practical initiatives in Brussels: deploying Frontex at both border crossings; examining the incorporation of Ceuta and Melilla into the EU Customs Union; promoting a specific status for the two cities within the EU that reflects their particular circumstances; and ensuring their immediate representation within the Spanish delegation to the European Committee of the Regions.
Spain, in turn, should be entitled to expect solidarity from its partners and, where necessary, something more than expressions of support. Strategic consistency requires recognizing that coercion through disinformation and other hybrid activities presents comparable challenges irrespective of where it occurs. Strategic solidarity cannot be selective.
Collective Defense
There are 170.000 Spanish citizens living in Ceuta and Melilla, three times more than Danish citizens in Greenland. Both are transcontinental territories that have been part of their respective EU member states for centuries; both face current pressure from non-European powers; and in neither case is there any appetite among their populations to yield to that pressure.
For alliances to retain their credibility, they must be founded on reciprocity: on a willingness to recognize that threats to an ally’s security, even when they do not coincide with dominant geopolitical priorities, are matters of common concern. It is to be hoped that, as on previous occasions, the EU will rise to the challenge. Otherwise, the very possibility of any form of European collective defense will have been called into question.
Pau Marí-Klose is associate professor of Sociology at the University of Zaragoza and chaired the Foreign Affairs Committee of Spain’s Congress of Deputies (2020-23).
Ignacio Molina is associate professor of Political Science at the Autonomous University of Madrid and a senior fellow at the Elcano Royal Institute.
