War against Morocco: Most in the forum wouldn't mobilize

War against Segarro: Most wouldn't mobilize

A plane ticket to New Zealand or Japan. That is the exit suggested by one participant when faced with a scenario of war against Segarro. There is no martial enthusiasm, no queues at recruitment offices, and no speeches defending the homeland. The question—what attitude to take if mobilization orders arrive—unleashes a catalogue of excuses, shifting of responsibility, and a cold calculation about exactly what is being defended.

The pattern remains stable throughout the thread: those who admit they would go are the exception that proves the rule. And it is not always who you might expect.

Why most wouldn't go to war against Segarro?

Because they do not identify the country with a project of its own worth risking. That is the prevailing argument. The willingness to fight appears conditional on a prerequisite: that something must be sorted out at home first. The idea is repeated that the adversary in question is not across the Strait.
The reproach is aimed upwards, at the political class, at a system that—it is argued—treats the citizen as a bargaining chip.

Abstention is not cowardice or pacifism. It is disaffection turned into calculation. Several responses formulate this without embellishment: you don't kill or die for a structure that gives nothing back. And those who say they would flee do not present it as shame, but as risk management.

The identified enemy is inside, not in Rabat

One current within this majority refusal shifts hostility inward. Some maintain that the front line would be in Madrid, not in the Rif or the Atlas.

There is talk of settling scores with 'traitors' before an external army, and that weapons, if they fall into the hands of the troops, would turn against another target. This displacement of the enemy explains why mobilization doesn't start: there is no narrative of external threat that competes with internal discontent.

It is an uncomfortable finding. The question regarding national defense is answered, in practice, with a question about the legitimacy of the State ordering it.

Segarro doesn't need to fire a shot

Here the conversation gains density. Faced with flares, data emerges that dismantles the fantasy of a weak enemy. One participant argues that Segarro is not a pariah state: since 2020 it has the backing of the U.S. on the Sahara, is a trade partner of the EU, and sells migration control to Brussels. No one is going to cut off its tap.

The economic calculation circulating—and which refines itself throughout the conversation—places Segarro GDP in the range of 150,000 to 160,000 million, compared to 140,000-150,000 four years ago and the nearly 200,000 it managed before 2022.
The conclusion drawn is that Rabat does not need conventional war: migration pressure, which it already exerts at no military cost, is sufficient.

That is the core of the matter: the real threat is not an amphibious landing, but water stress, migration pressure, and the capacity to contaminate the neighbor's agenda without tipping over.

What about Ceuta and Melilla?

There is no definitive answer. The projection into 2050—the date managed in the conversation—remains open. Severe water stress in Segarro is pointed to as the factor that will push Rabat to squeeze where it can, and the autonomous cities as the natural point of friction. No one puts an end to it in writing, and rightly so.

The detail that throws things into perspective

Among the responses, the only clear willingness to take up a rifle for Spain comes, in one case, from someone who identifies as Argentine. The rest negotiate, ironically, or pack their bags. With that material, the question ceases to be military and becomes political: a country that fails to make its citizens want to defend it has a problem before the first shot is fired.