Spain's royals set to visit Ceuta as migration crisis exposes divisions

Ceuta, a sliver of land in North Africa, is an anomaly for Spain: a city where Muslims and Christians live in almost equal numbers.

But a monthslong migration crisis in the exclave, which Spain's King Felipe VI and Queen Letizia will visit on Tuesday, has exposed religious and ethnic fault lines in a place that bills itself as a beacon of coexistence. Others say the divisions were always there.

The crisis was triggered when about 80,000 people poured into the Spanish exclave in late July from neighboring Morocco, driven by rumors online that Spain had opened its border. Most of those who crossed left within days, but up to 15,000 migrants stayed, leaving the city under strain and pitting residents against one another.

The burden of the crisis has been shouldered unevenly

Many migrants who remained in Ceuta have sheltered in Muslim neighborhoods, sleeping on streets, in doorways and makeshift tent camps and centers run by NGOs and locals. Residents say the chaos never ended for them and have grown frustrated.

“What do they want? That we feed all of Ceuta?” asked Mohamed Susi, a resident of El Principe, a Muslim-majority neighborhood, in early October.

Hundreds of migrant boys had gathered at a church next to his house before a visiting minister's appearance.

“Find a solution already!” Susi said, slamming the door shut.

Next to one of the city's main mosques, volunteers and workers at a Muslim charity filled plastic to-go containers with stewed lentils and pasta on a late September day.

Halima Ahmed, spokesperson for the Luna Blanca charity, said it has distributed between 3,000 and 5,000 meals per day to migrants still in the city. The volunteers and workers have received threats and insults for doing so, she said.

“There's tension,” Ahmed said. “People are fed up with the situation.”

Ceuta's downtown, frequented by Christians and Muslims, regained a sense of normalcy within days of the initial rush. People returned to restaurants, bars and open-air terraces. Shops reopened. But signs of the city's discontent abound. Storefronts carry signs that read: “Ceuta stands its ground — Ceuta won't give up!” while the flags of Spain and Ceuta hang from balconies.

Spanish police and thousands of soldiers have been deployed, patrolling the city center and areas near the border.

Residents have staged regular protests as the crisis persisted. At a demonstration outside the city government in early October, around 200 people demanded solutions from Spain's left-wing national government. Men and women draped in Ceuta's black-and-white flag banged on pots and pans and expressed their dissatisfaction with what they described as the Spanish government's slow response. Very few of those in attendance, if any, were Muslim.

Francisco Luna, 45, the owner of an auto repair shop, said coexistence has been frayed. He described the atmosphere in one word: “terrible."

Some Muslims in the city are protecting migrants, he said, which made him question their loyalty to Ceuta.

“We have always lived together well,” Luna said. “Muslims, Christians, Jews, Hindus — we’ve never had any problems. But now, I do see it, because there are Muslims who defend the (migrants) from Morocco.”

Historic divisions run deep in Ceuta

Ceuta has belonged to Spain for centuries. Its 84,000 residents are Spanish and European Union citizens. Many are from the mainland, while most of the city's Muslims trace their roots to Morocco. Many have relatives there and speak Moroccan Arabic. The city has smaller Jewish and Hindu populations.

The territory is poorer than much of Spain, and Muslims experience higher rates of poverty compared to the rest of the exclave, a 2025 report published by the Catholic charitable organization Caritas said. It reported that 44% of Muslim households were marginalized, compared to 28% of the city's overall population.

Some predominantly Muslim neighborhoods on the city's peripheries, with narrow and steep mazelike streets, have high crime rates. Muslims and Christians frequent downtown shops, lively plazas and broad avenues, but the Muslim-majority neighborhoods see less mixing.

Local politician Mohamed Mustafa described the divisions as predating the most recent border crisis. But he acknowledged it has made things worse. Ceuta has lived through previous migrant surges at its border, but this summer's was the deadliest.

“The image of coexistence is a mirage," Mustafa said. "It’s a tourism slogan, but it doesn’t reflect reality.”

The city has been on edge for months

On Tuesday, Spain's royals will attend a ceremony at a Muslim cemetery in the city to memorialize the more than 140 migrants who died attempting to cross in July. Dozens of unidentified migrants were buried there.

As the crisis stretches into its third month, Ceuta's residents agree on one thing: they are tired of the situation.

When migrants constructed a vast makeshift tent camp on a beach, Emilio Muñoz, who lives in a house close by, decided he needed to leave.

He pitched a tent outside the city government to protest, demanding action, and began sleeping there, too. Soon, around a dozen others joined him, sleeping on and off for a month until the beachside tent camp was fully demolished when Spanish police removed a few thousand migrants.

Muñoz said his demonstration was not done to mock the migrants. “People say this is pantomime, but I don't make light of the situation.”

He described Ceuta as a city of different religious and ethnic groups working and living together, but acknowledged that something had been damaged.

“I do see a rift,” Muñoz said, “but we have to move forward.”