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Marrakech – Few acts could carry greater symbolic weight than the display of a Polisario/ self-styled Sahrawi Arab Democratic Republic (SADR) flag in the Spanish-administered city of Melilla, a city already entangled in the crosscurrents of contested history and colonial memory.
What should have been a celebration of cultural diversity at the publicly funded Iwa Fest instead descended into a brazen political affront masquerading as cultural expression, as organizers allowed the separatist banner to be raised – a gesture Moroccans interpret as nothing less than a direct assault on their sovereignty.
The provocation lands with particular resonance at a moment when NATO parliamentarians staged what critics describe as a “colonial spectacle” in the disputed enclave, amplifying the enduring volatility of symbols in this unfinished chapter of decolonization.
The fourth edition of Iwa Fest, which ran from September 22-27, drew approximately 3,200 attendees to various cultural activities and concerts. According to El Faro de Melilla, the event concluded with sold-out performances at Fuerte de Victoria Grande near the walled enclosure of Melilla La Vieja on Saturday night.
The festival featured artists from Niger, India, Spain, Italy, Morocco, and Tunisia, with performances ranging from traditional Castilian folklore to desert blues and electronic music. Organized jointly by Melilla’s Department of Culture, Tourism Board, UNED Melilla, and Braive Media, the event received public funding and support from several institutions.
However, what purported to be a celebration of cultural diversity has instead become a point of serious political contention. The appearance of a separatist banner at the publicly funded event represents not cultural exchange but a provocative political signal in one of the Western Mediterranean’s most sensitive spaces.
Melilla’s position as a Spanish-administered city on African soil, just kilometers from Morocco’s Nador, makes it a particularly charged location for such displays – its very existence a living argument about sovereignty and decolonization.
In this context, flying the emblem of an Algeria-backed separatist movement is less about diversity than about normalizing a project that directly challenges Morocco’s territorial integrity.
Melilla is not just any stage, and the city’s historical significance compounds the issue. Spain seized it in 1497 and later fortified it as a forward bastion during colonial campaigns in the Rif; the Battle of Annual (1921) nearly collapsed Madrid’s position in the region.
Historically – and still today – the city has bolstered Spain’s sovereignty in the region; a European border in Africa that exemplifies colonial exploitation and its resonating echo on the continent as a whole. For this reason, symbolic acts – like the flying of the Polisario flag – travel far beyond local festival grounds.
Spain lauds compromise, yet entertains secessionist flags
The flag display starkly contradicts the Iberian country’s own diplomatic positioning. Since March 2022, Madrid has publicly described Morocco’s Autonomy Plan (2007) as “the most serious, realistic and credible basis” for resolving the Sahara dispute – a major policy realignment formalized by Sánchez’s letter to King Mohammed VI and recorded in EU and press documents.
That position has only been reinforced in subsequent high-level encounters. Allowing separatist iconography at taxpayer-supported venues directly pushes against that line and invites needless friction with Rabat.
Legal questions also arise regarding Spain’s flag jurisprudence. Spain’s Supreme Court (contentious-administrative chamber) set a clear doctrine in 2020: public administrations must not display “unofficial” flags on the exterior of public buildings/spaces, based on neutrality obligations – later carving a narrow exception for the LGBTI flag tied to equality (not partisanship).
Regardless of one’s view of that exception, a separatist standard is unmistakably political. If the emblem appeared on or from public property, Spanish authorities themselves have grounds to say “no.”
The international context further complicates the matter. Spain often invokes international law on Ukraine or Palestine. But law cuts both ways. The United Nations calls for a realistic, compromise-based political solution (MINURSO mandate renewals), while several major partners now back Morocco’s autonomy offer as the realistic baseline.
The United States adopted this position in 2020, as did Spain in 2022, France in 2024, and, more recently, the United Kingdom in 2025.
Following the pipelines, the Polisario is not “indigenous culture” but Algerian statecraft. It is not a benign cultural collective – it is a separatist apparatus headquartered in, supplied by, and diplomatically fronted by the Algerian regime. The Tindouf camps are administered under its control and sustained by Algerian state structures.
The so-called refugees themselves are hostages – many of whom return to their homeland, Morocco – whenever they have the chance.
Numerous accounts indicate that a large portion of them were even brought in from neighboring countries with no genuine link to the territory historically known as Western Sahara – an artificial inflation of numbers designed to exert international pressure and to tilt the balance of a referendum that never materialized and has since been rendered obsolete by the United Nations.
This reality also explains why Algeria consistently rejects any genuine census of the population there. That is why Polisario symbols appearing in Spanish venues are never mere “artistic freedom”; they are foreign-policy messages disguised in cultural packaging.
Reopening the wounds of both sides
For Moroccans, such displays are deeply offensive because symbols are the front edge of strategy. Morocco has advanced an autonomy framework recognized by key partners as a credible, secure investment, gained diplomatic traction, and stabilized development from Laayoune to Dakhla.
To then see, across the fence in an African city still administered by a European power – the normalization of a banner whose sole purpose is to undo that progress is seen as utterly unacceptable.
This incident coincides with NATO’s provocative first-ever visit to Melilla on September 26-27, where approximately 60 parliamentarians from 15 member countries toured the territory. The visit, arranged by Spanish senator Fernando Gutiérrez Díaz de Otazu, included meetings with Melilla’s president Juan José Imbroda, government officials, and security forces.
The NATO delegation also visited the Temporary Immigrant Stay Center (CIE), attended a military showcase at the Rostrogordo firing range, participated in a ceremony honoring “those who died for Spain,” and toured the old city.
The status of Melilla within NATO has been contested. In 2022, then-NATO Secretary General Jens Stoltenberg clarified that Spain’s “autonomous cities” are not automatically covered under the collective defense provisions of Article 5, as they lie outside the geographical scope defined in Article 6 of the North Atlantic Treaty.
Recent signals from Madrid complicate the picture: King Felipe VI has reportedly shown interest in visiting Ceuta and Melilla, while at the 80th UN General Assembly, he limited Spain’s position to supporting Staffan de Mistura’s UN-led political process.
Action after action, no matter how small, when accumulated, risks eroding and upsetting the hard-won progress achieved in Spanish-Moroccan relations since the 2021 crisis.
For a Moroccan, seeing a Polisario flag in Melilla is like watching an old imperial theater invite a new proxy actor onto the stage – provocative, legally questionable in certain public settings, and strategically incoherent with Spain’s own stated policy.
The danger lies not in any single incident but in their cumulative effect, steadily chipping away at the trust painstakingly rebuilt over recent years.
The answer, however, is not outrage for its own sake but consistency: applying pressure where the law allows, doubling down on diplomacy, and accelerating development in the south. Because in the end, the most effective rebuttal to separatist symbolism is not a war of flags, but a Sahara that is visibly thriving within Morocco.
Read also: Takeaways From King Felipe VI’s Speech on Sahara Dispute, Madrid-Rabat Ties
