There are passionate debates. There are deep disagreements. There are even particularly harsh political confrontations. And then there is something else: moments when debate leaves the realm of ideas and ventures into that of invective, defamation, and personal attacks. It is precisely this boundary that certain segments of the Spanish media sphere seem to have forgotten.
The recent episode surrounding Samir Bennis offers a particularly revealing illustration. Invited onto Antena 3 to debate the Ceuta crisis, the Moroccan academic and analyst defended his positions with the arguments he has long put forward. He challenged the existence of solid evidence establishing Morocco’s direct responsibility for the migration events, called for verifiable evidence, and placed the controversy within the broader context of Moroccan-Spanish relations.
The debate was heated. That was precisely its purpose. But when argumentation is no longer enough, some prefer to change registers. The discussion then moves from disagreement to personal attacks, and from personal attacks to sensational accusations. It is an old recipe: when one can no longer respond to what the opponent is saying, one attempts to discredit the person saying it.
An accusation without evidence
In this sequence, Bennis was accused by Taleb Alisalem, presented in several Spanish media outlets as a Sahrawi activist and a regular commentator on issues related to Morocco and the Sahara, without it being entirely clear why he was involved in a debate about Ceuta. After the program, Alisalem claimed on social media that the Moroccan analyst had told him, as he was leaving the studio: “We are going to kill you, son of a…” A very serious accusation, which Bennis categorically rejected and described as false and defamatory.
Such an accusation cannot be treated as a mere on-air outburst or as an insignificant continuation of a heated debate. It presupposes specific facts, an established context and, above all, evidence that can verify them. Yet, at this stage, nothing in the publicly available information establishes the reality of the remarks attributed to Bennis.
That is precisely where the problem lies. An accusation made on social media and then repeated within a polarized media environment can quickly acquire the appearance of truth without having been proven. Repetition does not constitute proof. Virality does not replace verification. And emotion does not exempt anyone from respecting the facts.
The question, therefore, is no longer only about Bennis, but concerns a certain conception of journalism and public debate. Freedom of the press is not the freedom to say anything about anyone. Freedom of expression protects criticism, including the harshest criticism. It does not, however, turn insult into an argument, nor does it transform an unsubstantiated accusation into media truth.
When personal attacks replace debate
During the program, Alisalem accused Morocco of using immigration as an instrument of political pressure and “blackmail.” Bennis asked him to present direct and verifiable evidence of Moroccan responsibility. The disagreement could have been harsh. It could even have been brutal. But it should have remained focused on facts, public policies, and institutional responsibilities.
Yet when debate leaves this terrain and becomes a matter of honor, alleged threats, and personal accusations, the public is no longer invited to understand a complex issue. It is invited to identify a culprit.
It is a familiar mechanism. One no longer discusses the thesis but attacks the interlocutor; one no longer refutes the argument but questions the person’s intentions; one no longer produces evidence but appeals to indignation. The accusation then becomes a rhetorical tool designed not to establish the truth, but to impose an emotional reading of the scene.
Bennis can be contradicted. He can even be harshly contradicted. His analyses can be dismantled, his arguments challenged, and his references questioned. But if there is a specific accusation against him, it must be supported by specific evidence. Otherwise, it does not constitute journalism, but public prosecution.
El Español and the degradation of debate
This drift is not limited to the Antena 3 studio. It is part of a broader media climate marked by a tendency toward dramatization, personalization, and humiliation.
The treatment of Morocco by the newspaper El Español provides another example. The daily outlet reported information accusing Moroccan elements of organizing or facilitating the mass arrivals in Ceuta, even though Spanish authorities have challenged the existence of evidence establishing the direct involvement of the Moroccan state. According to the information reported, the director of Spain’s National Police, Francisco Pardo Piqueras, informed Interior Minister Fernando Grande-Marlaska that the report cited did not allow Morocco to be held responsible for planning or carrying out the events.
A media outlet can perfectly legitimately investigate responsibility for a migration crisis. It can examine border-monitoring failures, question security cooperation, or analyze decisions taken by Rabat and Madrid. But when a hypothesis is presented as a certainty without confirmation from the competent institutions, journalism gives way to the construction of a narrative.
The problem becomes even more apparent when this narrative is accompanied by loaded language, references to a supposed “invasion,” or a presentation designed to provoke fear and anger. In such a case, information no longer sheds light on the debate: it artificially hardens it.
An image of the King turned into an instrument of humiliation
The same logic appears in the way El Español chose to treat recent images of King Mohammed VI. The newspaper published a photograph of the monarch showing him in a particularly unfavorable appearance, accompanying the image with alarmist coverage of his physical condition and alleged difficulties in moving.
This is not about challenging a media outlet’s right to report on the health of a public figure when it is a matter of public interest. It is legitimate to question the health of a head of state, provided that the reporting relies on verified information, distinguishes facts from assumptions, and avoids medical speculation.
But publishing an image chosen to symbolically disfigure a monarch, suggest vulnerability, or provoke humiliation is a different undertaking. It is no longer simply about informing. It is about staging. It is about constructing an image intended to demean an individual and, beyond that person, to target what he represents, to insult an entire people.
El Español is no stranger to this type of treatment. In 2023, the newspaper had already run a headline about supposedly “shocking” images of the King, using a photographic montage. The question, therefore, is not one of an isolated approach, but of an editorial line that appears to regard physical weakness as an object of spectacle.
Morocco can be criticized. The country’s choices, its government’s policies, the direction of Moroccan diplomacy, or the functioning of the Kingdom’s institutions can all be discussed. But turning Morocco into an object of ridicule or humiliation does not constitute serious political criticism.
There is a fundamental difference between reporting on a leader’s health and exploiting an image to feed a hostile narrative. The former can fall within the scope of journalism. The latter looks more like a form of visual propaganda.
The comparison with the Moroccan press
A comparison with the Moroccan press is worth making. Much can be criticized about that press, its editorial lines, its excesses, or its shortcomings. But one essential and revealing point must be acknowledged. During periods when Moroccan-Spanish relations have been particularly tense, the Moroccan press has never chosen to personally target the Spanish royal family or the Spanish monarchy, even when it has gone through extremely serious periods. It has never sought to turn Spain’s political difficulties and vulnerabilities into an outlet for venting against individuals.
Likewise, while Pedro Sánchez has been at the center of intense political controversy in Spain, as have his friends and his own family, Moroccan media outlets have commented on his choices and positions, no more than that. Some have even welcomed his positions in favor of good-neighborly relations with Rabat. But the debate has remained primarily political. Ultimately, that is the difference between criticizing an official and seeking to humiliate him.
Morocco has never claimed that the Spanish press should be gentle with it. Madrid and Rabat have enough sensitive issues for disagreements to be numerous. Ceuta, Melilla, the Sahara, migration, security cooperation, and diplomatic relations are constants in this particular relationship.
All of this can and should be discussed. But there is one thing that should remain independent of politics, and that is called decency. One can challenge a thesis without insulting the person defending it. One can oppose a position without inventing accusations against its author. One can defend Ceuta, defend the Sahara, or defend any other Spanish position without turning the Moroccan interlocutor into a personal target. That is what the press should be in a country that claims to be democratic.
Virulence is not courage
Perhaps the most surprising aspect of this affair is that some people confuse virulence with courage. Yet virulence is not necessarily proof of strength. It can also be a symptom of a debate that no longer knows how to move forward.
Respond to Bennis on the substance. Challenge his sources. Put other documents before him. Present evidence demonstrating Morocco’s responsibility for the Ceuta crisis. If Alisalem claims that he was threatened, let him provide the evidence needed to establish the facts, and let the media examine them with the same rigor they would apply to any other accusation. But it is not acceptable to turn an allegation into a verdict.
Arguments have a simple virtue: they require a response to arguments. Insults, by contrast, mainly allow people to avoid responding. An unverified accusation always produces the same effect. It diverts attention from the substance and places the opponent in the artificial position of a suspect. When part of the media landscape begins to confuse these two registers, it is not only the opponent who is harmed. The quality of public debate itself is harmed.
Between Madrid and Rabat, disagreements will not disappear tomorrow. Neither will passions. But if two neighboring countries want to continue living alongside one another, they would do well to remember one very basic rule. Firmness does not preclude courtesy, and disagreement does not authorize disrespect.
The Moroccan press can be harsh with Spain. It can criticize its government, its parties, its diplomatic choices, or its media. But it does not need to insult the Spanish royal family to defend Morocco.
Perhaps that, ultimately, is where the real difference lies between a difficult debate and an exchange in which one side has abandoned basic manners. In this particular episode, the Moroccan press has clearly scored points against those who prefer noise and invective. Spanish journalism institutes and faculties would, moreover, benefit from introducing a module entitled: “Respect, a Foundation of the Journalism Profession.”
