When customs close and memories open: Morocco and Spain between the ghosts of history and the cracks in politics
Tuesday afternoon was not just any day on the border map; it was a silent declaration of the return of old tensions under new names, and of the resurgence of a memory suspended between a sovereignty that was taken away and European positions that fluctuate according to interests, not principles.
While Rabat has offered no official explanation for the unexpected closure of its customs offices with the two cities, the Spanish press has entered into a race to interpret the move, offering two disparate but revealing interpretations: either it is an expression of political discontent over the Popular Party's invitation to Abdullah Arabe, representative of the Polisario Front in Spain, to its recent congress; or it is a logistical measure related to the start of Operation Marhaba to welcome the Moroccan diaspora. Between these two hypotheses lies a much more complex reality.
The closure, although administrative in form, has far-reaching symbolic and political implications. Morocco does not consider Ceuta and Melilla to be mere transit points, but open colonial wounds on its northern flank.
And although Spain has tried to adapt to Morocco's new approach by supporting the proposed Autonomy Plan for the Sahara in March 2022, its more conservative political structure, especially the right wing, has not yet digested the idea of an equal relationship with Rabat, particularly when the issue of sovereignty is on the table.
The Popular Party's action in welcoming a separatist figure to the heart of Madrid was not only a diplomatic slap in the face for Morocco, but also a sign of a return to a colonialist vision in Spanish foreign policy towards its southern neighbours, ignoring the fact that international relations today are no longer governed by superiority, but by the balance of interests and the management of differences.
On the other hand, linking the closure to Operation Marhaba reveals another dilemma: when a country like Morocco is forced to prioritise between managing a migratory flow equivalent to the size of a country and maintaining customs services with two colonial enclaves, the decision takes on a symbolic charge of sovereignty that has yet to be resolved.
Despite solid economic indicators – such as bilateral trade worth nearly 22 billion euros and advanced cooperation on security and intelligence – the political and psychological reality points to a less harmonious relationship.
In the Spanish imagination, as revealed by the latest Real Instituto Elcano barometer, Morocco continues to be perceived as the main external threat (55%), even above Russia or the United States. This perception is not only a response to the weight of history, but also to a persistent unease that sees its southern neighbour as an uncomfortable mirror for a Spanish identity in crisis, seeking in the other the origin of its internal confusion.
The closure of customs, therefore, should not be read solely as border management or a seasonal measure. It is yet another chapter in the ongoing narrative on sovereignty, positioning and recognition.
Morocco no longer reacts impulsively. Its diplomacy has become strategic, balancing restraint with indirect but firm messages.
In this context, the tension between Rabat and Madrid is merely a reflection of a deeper rift in the Euro-Mediterranean architecture, which has not yet decided whether it considers the south a full partner or simply a manageable periphery.
Until Spain clarifies its vision, Morocco will continue to negotiate with dignity, not resignation. It will close customs doors if necessary, and open doors of sovereign interpretation whenever its depth is tested.
Because, in the end, this is not simply about a border crossing, but a step towards a new understanding of sovereignty, at a time when geography is intertwined with memory, and diplomacy with will.