Some stories emphasize evidence, while others begin with and are only obsessed with narrative. The Ceuta affair clearly belongs to the latter.
Since late July, part of Spain’s political and media establishment has been spinning a conspiratorial scenario worthy of a spy novel. In their telling, Moroccan police “directed” this influx of migrants, pulling the strings behind the scenes as part of a strategy designed to make the Spanish border “collapse.” All that seemed to be missing from this conspiracy were stories of a secret command room in Rabat.
Then came an EFE report on September 2. Francisco Pardo, director general of Spain’s National Police, officially informed the interior minister that Spanish police were unable to find any evidence to support the thesis that Moroccan security forces played a part in the planning or execution of the events of July 30 and 31 in Ceuta. That lack of incriminating evidence against Morocco is the only fact in this lingering Ceuta affair. Everything else is narrative and passion.
Yet perhaps the most revealing part of this “controversial” police report episode is that the Interior Minister learned of the existence of this supposedly “explosive report” from the press, not from his own administration. The magistrate overseeing the investigation had instructed investigators not to share its contents with their superiors.
Morocco-bashing as a national sport
As a result, political leaders were making an accusation before their own director general of police had even heard of the report. This says a great deal about the country’s peculiar way of functioning.
Indeed, the ensuing confusion speaks volumes about a mechanism that has become almost routine in Spain. An anonymous source speaks. A media outlet publishes. A politician reacts. Twenty-four hours later, a hypothesis has become a fact. The conditional disappears. So does doubt. And this is how Morocco now finds itself in the dock of narrative and rhetorical grandstanding with no basis in facts and no consideration for the truth and political sensibility.
Blaming Rabat has become an automatic reflex in Madrid. Almost a national sport. A migration crisis in Ceuta or Melilla? Look to Morocco. An overwhelmed border? Look to Morocco. A diplomatic crisis? Look to Morocco. This reflex serves, above all, to avoid an uncomfortable question: How can an EU member state, equipped with thousands of police officers and sophisticated surveillance systems, be caught off guard by an operation of this scale?
That question deserves a Spanish answer. Not a Moroccan one.
The temptation to point the finger at Rabat is also explained by Ceuta’s symbolic weight. The Spanish enclave on Morocco’s northern shore has long been a source of tension in bilateral relations. As such, Spain views every migration crisis as a demonstration of Moroccan strength; every episode of mass migration attempt is capitalized upon to reinforce the narrative of Morocco as a “permanent threat.” While this is politically convenient, it is intellectually lazy and, in the long run, simply intolerable.
Seen from Madrid, Morocco is simultaneously an indispensable strategic partner — on migration, security, counterterrorism, and the economy — and the perpetual prime suspect. Yet Spain must choose between mature diplomacy and a politics of permanent suspicion rooted in reflexes from another era.
Consider, for instance, the fact that Spain’s right-wing parties did not bother waiting for the conclusions of the official investigation before jumping on the Morocco-bashing bandwagon that had been set in motion mere hours after news emerged of the Ceuta episode. The People’s Party and Vox immediately erupted in anger and seized on the affair. For them, Morocco is a convenient electoral target, while migration is an emotional issue and Ceuta and Melilla carry enormous symbolic weight.
They do not need to abide by the logic of facts and the demands of reality when turning a complex crisis into a political slogan can win votes. Moroccans, meanwhile, can take some satisfaction in wielding so much influence over Spain’s domestic affairs… Isn’t that, in itself, a demonstration of power?
Yet a word of caution is in order here. “Facilitate,” “tolerate,” and “let through” are not synonymous with “organize,” “coordinate,” “plan,” or “execute.” There is a vast gulf between imperfect border control and a state operation designed to bring down a border. That gulf is called evidence.
The director general of Spain’s National Police has just reminded us that there is credible evidence linking Morocco to the supposed planning and implementation of the Ceuta migration crisis. The accusation must therefore be put back where it belongs: in the category of a hypothesis that still has to be proven.
But the real problem is that some had already delivered their verdict before the investigation had even begun. Morocco was guilty before the report had officially entered the public debate.
In a state governed by the rule of law, it is not headlines that convict. It is evidence. And for now, there is a striking lack of it.
The laughable pettiness of tearing up the Moroccan flag
One has to give Spanish nationalists credit for a certain consistency: when they run out of arguments, they can always find a flag to wave. And when they have nothing left to say, they tear one apart.
The images of Spanish demonstrators attacking the Moroccan flag in reaction to the events in Ceuta are deeply depressing. Not because they frighten Morocco. Far from it. They are simply the height of ridicule. They change nothing about reality. They do not move a border. They do not rewrite history. They simply reveal something about those who produced them.
Tearing up someone else’s flag is not a demonstration of strength. It is usually a sign that one has little left to oppose it with. If anything, it is an admission of weakness in the face of the other side. A display of weakness before a patient, calm, and composed Morocco.
Behave like proud patriots, not thugs
Spain is a respectable democracy. It has institutions, courts, a Constitution, and a Parliament. It has enough intellectual resources not to turn a demonstration into an outlet for crude nationalist anger.
Anyone who disagrees with, or does not like, Morocco has the right and duty to speak up.
But that should not be confused with the wrongheaded right to accuse without proof. So, if you believe Rabat failed in its management of the Ceuta border, prove it. If you want to accuse Morocco of using migration as a means of pressure, where is your evidence?
That — commitment to facts, proof, and evidence — is the least one expects from a democracy.
But tearing down, trampling on, or ripping up the Moroccan flag? That is politics at its absolute lowest.
There is something rather comical about watching some people lecture the world on democracy while confusing freedom of expression with the basest form of nationalist venting.
A little lesson on the limits of legality
Spanish law explicitly protects Spanish symbols. Article 543 of the Penal Code criminalizes public insults against Spain and its symbols. But one cannot simply decree that every act against a foreign flag automatically constitutes the same offense.
Even when the law does not turn an odious gesture into a criminal offense, does that make it acceptable? Obviously not.
A civilized society should not limit itself to asking, “Is it forbidden?” It should also ask, “Is it dignified?”
That is the difference between legality and civic responsibility.
The Moroccan flag is not your enemy — and certainly not your punching bag
One obvious point needs to be made: the Moroccan flag is not the Moroccan government. It is not the Interior Ministry. It is not the police. It is not Morocco’s migration policy.
It represents a people. Millions of Moroccans. Men and women who deserve respect. Turning their national symbol into a punching bag for angry demonstrators is unacceptable. And it may, in turn, provoke their anger.
You do not respond to a policy you oppose by insulting an entire nation.
Ceuta is not a license to insult
Ceuta is a political, historical, and territorial issue. It can be the subject of passionate debate where Spain defends its sovereignty claims while Morocco defends its historical rights to the region.
But since when does a territorial dispute give anyone the right to hold the other side in contempt?
Moroccans do not need to tear up the Spanish flag to make their position on Ceuta and Melilla clear. They do not need to burn anything. They do not even need to shout. They have everything going for them, much to the chagrin of the excitable.
History does not change to the rhythm of demonstrations. And borders do not move because someone managed to set fire to a piece of fabric.
The real provocation would be to remain dignified
Morocco’s response should be the exact opposite of what some people expect. No escalation. No symbolic revenge. No contest over who can burn more flags. No hatred toward Spaniards.
Morocco has nothing to gain from playing on the field of those who want to turn a political crisis into a war between peoples.
The best response is much simpler: keep working, keep building, keep making the argument, and let the excitable tear apart their own certainties.
For there is a form of power that nationalists often fail to understand: the kind that does not need to shout to exist.
And now, let us look in the mirror
Spaniards who tear up the Moroccan flag should ask themselves one very simple question: What would you think if Moroccans did exactly the same thing to the Spanish flag?
You would call it an insult. Hatred. A provocation. Perhaps even barbarism. You would be right.
Then apply the same rule to yourselves.
That is civic responsibility. A rule does not stop applying to you simply because it applies to someone else.
You want to defend Spain? Defend it intelligently. You want to defend Ceuta? Defend your position with arguments.
You want to criticize Morocco? Criticize its policies.
But if your best argument consists of tearing up a flag, then allow us to tell you this: You have not won the debate. You have simply shown that you had nothing to say.
And ultimately, perhaps it is the Moroccan flag that emerges from this affair in the best shape. Because a torn flag can be replaced in a matter of seconds. Dignity, on the other hand, is much harder to stitch back together.
As for Spain’s right-wing parties, once they have regained the premiership, the government, and a parliamentary majority, they will come to the negotiating table — and they will be the ones signing agreements with Morocco on the future of the Ceuta and Melilla enclaves.
The situation is untenable for Spain, which cannot, once again, attempt to deal with a 21st-century problem while looking at it through the blinders of the 19th century. That era is definitively over.
