In the wake of one of the deadliest border crossings in recent European memory — 141 lives lost, 70,000 people surging into the Spanish enclave of Ceuta in a single July — Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez has chosen alliance over accusation, defending Morocco's government and redirecting blame toward criminal networks and foreign disinformation. His position reflects an ancient tension in statecraft: the gap between what a population demands to hear and what a leader calculates must be preserved. How Spain holds that tension — between accountability and diplomacy, between the living stranded on it
Spain's PM exonerates Morocco in Ceuta crisis, blames Russia and Israel for disinformation
Cooperation with Morocco is frankly positive
So Sánchez is saying Morocco didn't do this. But a lot of people suspected they did—as punishment for Spain getting closer to Algeria. What's the evidence he's relying on?
He says no intelligence agency has flagged Moroccan involvement. That's a fairly strong statement if it's true, but it's also the kind of thing that's hard for the public to verify. He's betting that the relationship with Morocco is too important to accuse them without ironclad proof.
Right, but "no intelligence agency has raised doubts" is different from "we've investigated and found no evidence." Those are two different claims. And we should note that the suspicion about Morocco was widespread enough that it needed addressing—which suggests there was at least circumstantial reasoning behind it.
So what does he blame instead?
Criminal gangs spreading disinformation. He says they falsely claimed that a court ruling meant swimmers couldn't be deported, which triggered the rush.
That's plausible, but again—we're taking his word for what the gangs did and what the court ruling actually said. The source doesn't give us independent verification of either claim.
And then he blames Israel and Russia for amplifying the disinformation on social media.
Yes. He's saying they weaponized the crisis for their own purposes.
Which they both denied immediately. Israel called it a "brazen lie." The Kremlin denied involvement. So we have competing claims and no independent reporting on what actually appeared on social media or who posted it.
What about the people still stuck there?
Five thousand, including twelve hundred children. They're sleeping rough, belongings getting burned, clashes with police. That part is concrete—we can see it happening.
That's the part that matters most, actually. Whatever the political blame game, those people are still there and the conditions are deteriorating.
Il Polso
- Up to 141 people died and 70,000 crossed into Ceuta in late July, making it one of the most catastrophic border events in modern European history.
- Sánchez's refusal to blame Morocco has fractured domestic politics, with conservative and far-right opposition parties accusing him of paralysis and subservience to Rabat.
- His counter-accusation — that Israel and Russia spread disinformation inflaming the crossing — drew immediate, furious denials from both governments, escalating the diplomatic noise around an already volatile crisis.
- Five thousand migrants, including 1,200 unaccompanied minors, remain stranded in Ceuta: sleeping on beaches, losing belongings to fires, and clashing with police and soldiers.
- Sánchez has promised shelter for all remaining migrants, but whether his political narrative — criminal gangs, not Morocco; disinformation, not policy failure — can hold under mounting pressure is far from certain.
In the wake of one of the deadliest border crossings in recent European memory — 141 lives lost, 70,000 people surging into the Spanish enclave of Ceuta in a single July — Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez has chosen alliance over accusation, defending Morocco's government and redirecting blame toward criminal networks and foreign disinformation. His position reflects an ancient tension in statecraft: the gap between what a population demands to hear and what a leader calculates must be preserved. How Spain holds that tension — between accountability and diplomacy, between the living stranded on its streets and the relationships that govern its borders — remains unresolved.
At the end of July, roughly 70,000 people crossed into Ceuta, Spain's small enclave on the North African coast. Up to 141 died in the attempt. The crossing triggered an immediate political firestorm and a humanitarian emergency — and weeks later, Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez has offered an explanation that has satisfied almost no one.
Sánchez has firmly rejected the widespread theory that Morocco's government engineered the breach as retaliation for Spain's closer ties with Algeria. No intelligence agency, he said, had produced evidence of Moroccan involvement. "Cooperation with Morocco is frankly positive," he insisted — framing the bilateral relationship not as a liability but as the very instrument needed to resolve the crisis.
Instead, he blamed criminal gangs for organizing the crossing and accused Israel, Russia, and far-right actors of spreading a false claim on social media: that a Spanish court ruling had made migrants in Ceuta impossible to deport. Israel's foreign minister called the accusation a "brazen lie." The Kremlin denied any connection. Both responses came fast and with force.
On the ground, the human cost continues to accumulate. Most of the 70,000 have since returned to Morocco, but 5,000 remain — including 1,200 minors sleeping on streets and beaches. Belongings have been burned while people slept. Clashes between residents, migrants, and police have multiplied. Sánchez has promised accommodation for all those still stranded.
The political opposition has shown no patience for his framing. The conservative People's Party accused the government of failing to prevent the crossing and failing to restore order since. The far-right Vox party called it an invasion enabled by a prime minister "subservient to Morocco."
Sánchez's defense of Rabat and his pivot toward blaming foreign disinformation reflect a clear strategic bet: that the relationship with Morocco is worth more than domestic applause. Whether that calculation holds depends on whether the streets of Ceuta can be cleared — and whether Spaniards accept his account of who, in the end, was responsible.
At the end of July, roughly 70,000 people—men, women, and children—surged across the border into Ceuta, Spain's small enclave on the North African coast. As many as 141 of them died in the attempt. The crossing unleashed a political firestorm at home, a humanitarian catastrophe on the ground, and reopened old wounds within Europe over how to handle migration. Now, weeks later, Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez has offered his explanation for what happened—and it is not what many in Spain wanted to hear.
Sánchez has flatly rejected the theory that Morocco's government orchestrated the breach. In an interview with Cadena Ser radio, he stated plainly that no intelligence agency had produced evidence of Moroccan involvement. The suspicion had been widespread: that Rabat had engineered the crossing as retaliation for Spain's warming ties with Algeria, Morocco's regional rival. But Sánchez insisted the opposite was true. "Cooperation with Morocco is frankly positive," he said, arguing that trust in the relationship was essential to resolving the crisis, not a luxury Spain could afford to abandon.
Instead, Sánchez pointed the finger elsewhere. He blamed criminal gangs for orchestrating the crossing, and he accused Israel and Russia—along with far-right actors—of weaponizing the event on social media. These accounts, he said, had spread a false claim that a Spanish supreme court ruling meant migrants who swam into Ceuta could not be deported. The disinformation, in his telling, had fueled the rush.
The accusation landed hard. Israel's foreign minister, Gideon Sa'ar, called it a "brazen lie" and turned the criticism back on Sánchez, suggesting the prime minister was using the charge to distract from his own failures in managing the crisis. The Kremlin, through the RBC daily, denied any connection to the events in Ceuta. The denials came swiftly and with heat.
Meanwhile, the human aftermath persists. Although most of the 70,000 who crossed have since returned to Morocco, at least 5,000 remain in Ceuta, including 1,200 minors. They are sleeping on streets and beaches. Some have had their belongings burned while they slept. Clashes have erupted between residents and police, and on one Saturday, four Moroccan migrants were arrested after throwing stones at Spanish soldiers. Sánchez promised that accommodation would soon be available for all those still stranded in the enclave.
The political opposition has seized on the government's handling of the crisis. Spain's conservative People's Party accused Sánchez of doing nothing to prevent the crossing and nothing to restore order afterward. "It did nothing to avoid the invasion on 30 July and it's doing nothing to stop the public order crisis that's getting worse every day," said Alberto Núñez Feijóo, the party's leader. Santiago Abascal of the far-right Vox party went further, calling the crossing "an invasion and an act of war promoted by Morocco and allowed by Sánchez, who is incapable of responding because he is subservient to Morocco."
Sánchez's exoneration of Morocco and his pivot toward blaming foreign disinformation campaigns reflect a calculation: that maintaining the relationship with Rabat is more important than satisfying domestic critics who want someone held accountable. Whether that gamble holds depends partly on whether the remaining migrants can be absorbed and moved out of Ceuta's streets, and partly on whether the public accepts his account of what happened and who was responsible.
Citazioni salienti
There's no information from any intelligence agency that raises doubts over the involvement of Moroccan authorities.— Pedro Sánchez, Spanish Prime Minister
Cooperation with Morocco is frankly positive. We need to be aware that this crisis can be resolved only through cooperation—and not through a lack of trust in Morocco, which would only further aggravate the already complex situation we have in Ceuta.— Pedro Sánchez