A heavy police and army deployment prepare at the border between Morocco and Spain on August 15, 2026 in Fnideq (Castillejos), Morocco.
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SEVILLE, Spain — When Juanjo Coronado wrote back to NPR, two weeks after the July 30 mass border crossing in Ceuta, to send an update on how he and his daughter were doing, he sent just one line: "same, which means worse."
Weeks after the mass crossing, in which more than 140 people died, Spain is trying to close the chapter. The government says that most of the over 70,000 migrants who crossed into Ceuta the week of July 27 are back in Morocco, and that they returned of their own accord.
Thousands of migrants, many of them unattended minors, remain in Ceuta, while the local population adapts to their presence: from helping with food or shelter, to organizing neighborhood watch groups with aggressive tactics. Or in the case of Juanjo Coronado, simply not going outside.
The images of tens of thousands of migrants crossing into the small Spanish enclave came as a shock to Spanish leaders, who had been busy responding to some of the largest wildfires in Spain's history. The event was also a shock, and a cause of division, in the European Union.
Many world leaders, such as President Donald Trump and Italian Prime Minister Georgia Meloni, quickly pointed at the event as the exemplification of the global anti-immigration movement's worst nightmare.
But it was not a shock to Teresa Pardo and Juanjo Coronado, who have lived in Ceuta their entire lives, a territory of roughly 7 square miles, much of it surrounded by a fence.
And not just any fence. It's a 5-mile long double fence, as tall as 30-feet, equipped with the latest technology designed to stop sudden crossing attempts by migrants from the other side of the border.
Pardo and Coronado have both seen enough throughout their lives in Ceuta to understand that events at the border always happen for a reason. But what happened on July 30 was not "normal," both tell me. And they are living the consequences, Pardo says:
"We feel a sense of helplessness. There are shortages in the supermarkets, with limits on how many loaves of bread each person can buy. Even at 30 years old, I find myself having to call my parents to let them know I got home safely from work." Both Pardo and Coronado say that they simply want Ceuta to go back to what it was three weeks ago.
And despite their desperation, past experience tells us that Ceuta can recover from these kinds of episodes.
Migrants receive food and aid from the NGO's in El Trampolin Beach on August 14, 2026 in Ceuta, Spain.
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"What past experience shows us that there are always three steps involved," says José Bautista, lead researcher at the non-profit organization porCausa, and investigative journalist.
Bautista adds: "First, Morocco creates a migration crisis in Ceuta, Melilla, or the Canary Islands. Second, Morocco negotiates with Spain to secure some form of concession. And third, Morocco creates a problem again — another migration crisis. But this time, instead of letting the crisis play out, Morocco presents itself as the solution."
In this instance, the first step of this pattern that Bautista describes took place on July 30. The second step is often invisible, or rather, not officially communicated. The third step of the pattern could be witnessed on Saturday Aug. 15, when a rumored mass crossing in Ceuta was successfully suppressed by the same Moroccan law enforcement that apparently could not stop more than 70,000 people from entering Ceuta about two weeks before.
