There are events that change history and others that simply expose it. What happened in Ceuta belongs to this second category. In just forty-eight hours, around 70,000 people crossed the border of Ceuta, at least 100 died in the attempt, and the vast majority returned to Morocco afterwards. Meanwhile, several European governments were demanding controls, Schengen returned to the center of the debate, and an urgent meeting of interior ministers was requested.
For forty-eight hours, not only was a border collapsed; a way of understanding international politics fell apart. Thousands of people crossing one of the most monitored borders in Europe, a city completely overwhelmed, and a European Union unable to react with a single voice. More than a migration crisis, Ceuta has been a mirror. And what Europe has seen reflected in it is not precisely reassuring.
Naturally, behind those images is a human drama that no one should ignore. Thousands of young Moroccans risk their lives because they seek a future that they cannot find in their country. That reality exists and it would be indecent to deny it. But one thing is to understand the deep causes of immigration and another very different thing is to close one's eyes to the political use of those flows.
To believe that tens of thousands of people can concentrate and cross in a few hours one of the most protected land borders of the European Union without the Moroccan authorities knowing it requires almost religious faith in coincidences. Morocco may have many shortcomings, but it is not precisely known for the weakness of its security services. If fifty thousand young people decided to march towards Plaza Mechouar, in front of the Royal Palace, surely the demonstration would not even reach the first traffic light. Probably not even the first demonstrator.
Logic of appeasement
There is no need for conspiracy theories or to imagine dark foreign hands. It is enough to observe the facts. Morocco has been practicing a coherent, patient, and extraordinarily effective foreign policy for years. It firmly defends its national interests: the Sahara, its influence in Africa, its privileged position before Washington, its excellent relations with Israel, and its essential role for Europe in controlling migration flows. That is exactly what states that know what they want do. The problem is not Morocco. The problem begins when its neighbors stop defending their own interests with the same clarity. And that is where Spain comes in.
It would be unfair to place all the responsibility on the current Government, although it seems to have a lot. The Spanish policy towards Morocco has been installed for too long in a logic of appeasement. The hope has always been the same: one more concession will buy a few months of tranquility. Experience shows exactly the opposite. In international politics, unilateral concessions rarely produce gratitude; too often they produce new demands.
"The problem is not Morocco. The problem begins when its neighbors stop defending their own interests with the same clarity."
There was a time when Spain conveyed a different image. The crisis of the islet of Perejil did not resolve our problems with Morocco, but it did leave an unequivocal message: there were lines that could not be crossed without consequences. That firmness gave credibility to Spanish diplomacy. Today that capacity for deterrence seems to have faded to the point that the neighbor interprets too many times prudence as weakness.
The best example was the turn on Western Sahara. I will not delve into the substance of the debate, perfectly legitimate. The real problem was the form. For almost half a century, the Spanish position had constituted a state policy. Suddenly it changed through a letter known in Rabat before it was known in the Congress of Deputies, without political consensus, without a national debate, and without an explanation, not sufficient, nonexistent. In foreign policy, forms are also substance. And that form projected a disturbing image: improvisation, secrecy, and concession.
Those who defended that change argued that it would open a period of stability in relations with Morocco. Reality seems to contradict that hope. Diplomacy is not only about avoiding conflicts; it is also about preventing the other from believing that they can provoke them without paying any price. Theodore Roosevelt summarized that idea with an immortal phrase: "Speak softly and carry a big stick." Spain has perfected an unprecedented version of that maxim: talks with enormous softness... and has long forgotten where it left the stick. But, while self-criticism is important and necessary, the true protagonist of this story is not Madrid... it is Brussels.
Because what is truly unsettling is not that Morocco engages in power politics. All states do. What is truly alarming is to see that the European Union seems to have been more scandalized by the consequences than by the cause; more by the state that suffered the pressure than by those who, presumably, allowed that pressure to occur.
"Diplomacy is not only about avoiding conflicts; it is also about preventing the other from believing that they can provoke them without paying any price."
And there begins the real European problem. The European reaction should someday be studied in diplomacy schools as an example of how a political union can misjudge its adversary.
Where Europe Lost Its Compass
It is understandable that many European capitals view any episode of immigration or even mass regularization with concern. Italy, France, Germany, Denmark, Finland, Poland, Hungary, or Sweden know well the political cost of an uncontrolled border. They know that each migration crisis fuels the discourse of populisms and strengthens an extreme right that turns every landing into an electoral argument. That fear exists and it would be naive to ignore it. But understanding that fear does not mean justifying any reaction.
Because one thing is to demand that Spain manage its borders effectively and another very different to make it the main responsible for a crisis that would hardly have reached such magnitude without, at least, the passivity of the Moroccan authorities.
And that is where Europe lost its compass. Instead of closing ranks with one of its member states while the facts were clarified, several governments reacted by raising their own barriers, tightening controls, and pointing to Madrid as if the problem resided exclusively on the other side of the Pyrenees. It was the policy of "every man for himself" disguised as European responsibility.
It is paradoxical. The Union was born precisely to replace the logic of "each one for themselves" with that of solidarity. However, when an external border faced the greatest migratory pressure in its recent history, too many European partners acted like neighbors who, upon seeing the adjacent house on fire, rush to water only their own garden.
The difference in treatment with Belarus is also difficult to explain. When Lukashenko's regime pushed thousands of immigrants towards Poland and Lithuania, Brussels immediately spoke of "hybrid war." There was political solidarity, extraordinary funding, diplomatic support, and sanctions. It was understood that using human beings to pressure the Union constituted a political attack. In Ceuta, on the other hand, the vocabulary changed surprisingly. The condemnations of Rabat were timid, the expressions of solidarity came drop by drop, and the political initiative consisted, to a large extent, of demanding explanations from Spain.
European principles seem to have a capricious geography. If the pressure comes from the East, we talk about hybrid aggression. If it comes from the South, the first interrogation is directed at the state that suffers it. Europe ended up accusing the victim before the perpetrator, and that may be the real dangerous precedent.
Because the external borders of the Union do not belong solely to the state where they are located. Ceuta does not only protect Spain, it protects Schengen, free movement, and the credibility of the European project. If a member state perceives that, instead of solidarity, it will find suspicion and reproaches, the message for any external actor is devastating: Europe doubts even when one of its own is under pressure.
It is not the first time it happens. For years, the Union has been talking about strategic autonomy, European sovereignty, and the need to become a geopolitical actor. The problem is that, when the time to act arrives, that solemn language tends to dissolve among statements, ministerial videoconferences, and diplomatic balances. Europe has replaced the culture of power with the culture of procedure.
While Washington, Beijing, Moscow, Ankara, or Rabat think in terms of influence, pressure capacity, and defense of national interests, Brussels and its capitals seem convinced that regulations can replace strategy. It produces norms with admirable efficiency, but geopolitics is not won by publishing directives or calling emergency meetings. It is won by being credible. And credibility requires something more than good intentions: it requires deterrence and reaction capacity.
This is not about breaking with Morocco. It would be a monumental mistake. Morocco will continue to be an essential neighbor and a necessary partner in immigration, terrorism, trade, energy, and regional stability. Precisely for that reason, the relationship must be based on a basic principle of any partnership between equals: mutual respect. And respect also means making it clear that using immigration as a tool of political pressure has consequences.
The European Union has sufficient commercial, financial, political, and diplomatic instruments to do so. It is Morocco's main economic partner, its main market, and one of its largest investors. The question is not whether Europe has the capacity for influence. It does. The real question is whether it retains the political will to use it when its strategic interests are at stake.
"The question is not whether Europe has the capacity for influence. It does. The real question is whether it retains the political will to use it when its strategic interests are at stake."
That is the debate that Ceuta has brought to the table. Because the Strait of Gibraltar is not just a border between Spain and Morocco. It is one of the most sensitive geopolitical spaces on the planet, where trade routes, maritime security, energy, immigration, organized crime, and the growing competition for influence in the Mediterranean and Africa converge. Anyone who thinks that only immigration policy is being discussed there has understood very little of what is happening.
The great powers rarely disappear due to a spectacular defeat. They begin to decline when they stop understanding the world in which they live. When they confuse prudence with resignation, dialogue with appeasement, and cooperation with dependence.
Ceuta demands something more than rhetorical solidarity. It demands a response that restores Europe's credibility. Morocco must understand that using immigration as a tool of political pressure has a price. Not out of a desire for punishment, but for a much simpler reason: because the borders of a power are non-negotiable. Europe has means and instruments of influence to demonstrate this. The only thing that seems to be lacking is will. Because powers are not recognized by the size of their economy or the beauty of their statements. They are recognized because they know how to say "enough is enough"... and because, when they say it, no one dares to check if they are serious.