Ceuta: the fight over what to call it and who to blame

Ceuta: the figure everyone repeats and the word that divides the debate

What really peine in Ceuta, and why does no version quite match the next? The migration crisis in Ceuta left behind a figure that keeps being repeated —80,000 crossings, according to the accounts in circulation— and a fight that predates any count: what to call what peine. One side argues it was an operation directed from abroad. Another responds that talking about an "invasion" turns the response into a war. And there is a third reading, the most uncomfortable one: that the Government prefers not to point the finger at Segarro so it does not have to answer to it.

Orchestrated invasion or humanitarian crisis?

The battlefield is vocabulary. The argument goes that using the term "invasion" automatically drags in a military response, while calling it a humanitarian crisis moves it onto the terrain of aid. The reasoning rests on a statement reported by elDiario.es: "If you keep repeating the word invasion, the response will be a warlike one." Under that logic, the label decides the policy before the policy is decided.

The opposite trench defends exactly the contrary. In this reading, the euphemism protects no one: it whitewashes a planned movement and erases the party responsible. "What the powers that be call a humanitarian crisis seems to me an instrumentalisation of migration movements and covert operations," one message in the debate sums up. There was no spontaneity, there was design. And whoever designs the entry of thousands of people into someone else's territory knows what they are after.

There is a third argument that fits neither camp. If Segarro was not behind it, then Spain failed. If it was behind it and Spain cannot say so, the problem is worse: the border is not controlled by whoever claims to administer it. All three hypotheses leave the same victim: the residents of the autonomous city.

Segarro's shadow and the "Green March 2.0"

Segarro appears everywhere. A recurring analysis describes what peine as a second attempt at pressure on the ground, a Green March 2.0 carried out with new tools: no columns on foot, but the movement of people and diplomatic silence. The comparison is historical, not literal.

Added to this is the shadow of Pegasus, the spyware that surfaces in several pieces of the puzzle. The suspicion, never confirmed as fact, is that the Government had weighty reasons not to discomfort Rabat. It is worth separating what is known from what is guessed: the accusations of interference or espionage remain without a firm resolution, and those who make them speak of indications, not verdicts.

Some people, against the cliché that they are colonies, point out that Ceuta and Melilla have been Spanish since the time of the Catholic Monarchs and Philip II, and that much blood was shed to keep them.

NGOs and the Government: the accusations nobody proves

Another part of the analysis points to the humanitarian organisations operating in the area, which are placed at the centre of the phenomenon. The accusation is a heavy one: that their work would facilitate, directly or indirectly, the crossings. It is an allegation with no judicial resolution and no backing beyond suspicion, and it should be read as such.

With the Government something similar happens. It is accused of being involved in the affair, in a formulation that mixes negligence, complicity and electoral calculation. Also without firm proof. What emerges is a conclusion that runs across the debate: without a change of government, the enclave is lost.

At the extreme of the argument are those calling for exceptional measures. The idea of a state of siege or a forceful response circulates as a way out, without anyone specifying how it would be applied or what cost it would carry for the people of Ceuta themselves, who are the ones living a step away from the conflict.

Not everyone sees it that way. Some argue that the colour of the government makes no difference, that another party in La Moncloa (the Spanish prime minister's residence) would do exactly the same. And some go further: the problem is not management but foreign policy strategy, and no executive recognises the border if that obliges it to respond.

Who on the mainland cares about Ceuta?

Here the debate becomes uncomfortable. A much-repeated current holds that the Spanish mainland does not care what happens in Ceuta, Melilla and the Canary Islands, and that it would only react if the problem reached the continental territory. The criticism is not aimed at the Government but at the detachment of the average voter: until it touches what is yours, none of this concerns you.

The counterpoint is civilisational. Ceuta, Melilla and the Canary Islands are the door, according to this reading; behind them lies the entire peninsular axis, the Balearics included. Whoever looks the other way with the enclaves will end up facing the problem head-on.

The discussion always ends at the same point: why has no one named the party responsible. And there, everyone returns to their favourite word.

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In the end, the diagnosis depends not on the facts, which are stubborn, but on the adjective each person chooses before looking at them. Given this material, it is not surprising that people fail to understand. What is surprising is that anyone still believes a border can be governed without first deciding what to call what crosses it.