CEUTA, Spain — Ceuta, a narrow enclave on Africa’s northern shore, stands out within Spain as a place where Muslims and Christians coexist in roughly equal measure.
But a prolonged migration surge in the enclave — which Spain’s King Felipe VI and Queen Letizia will tour on Tuesday — has laid bare religious and ethnic tensions in a locality that promotes itself as a model of coexistence, while critics argue the fissures long predated the current influx.
The crisis erupted in late July when roughly 80,000 people surged into the Spanish exclave from Morocco, spurred by online rumors that Spain had opened its border. Although most departed within days, as many as 15,000 remained, straining local resources and turning neighbors against each other.
Many of those who stayed have taken refuge in Muslim districts, bedding down on streets, in doorways, and in improvised tent camps managed by NGOs and local volunteers. Residents say the turmoil has persisted, leaving them increasingly frustrated.
“What do they want? That we feed all of Ceuta?” asked Mohamed Susi, a resident of the Muslim‑majority El Príncipe district, in early October.
Hundreds of migrant boys had assembled outside a church near his home ahead of a minister’s visit.
“Find a solution already!” Susi said, slamming the door shut.
Adjacent to one of Ceuta’s principal mosques, volunteers from a Muslim charity packed take‑away containers with stewed lentils and pasta on a late September day.
Halima Ahmed, spokesperson for the Luna Blanca charity, said the group distributes between 3,000 and 5,000 meals daily to migrants remaining in the city, adding that volunteers and staff have faced threats and insults for their work.
“There’s tension,” Ahmed said. “People are fed up with the situation.”
Ceuta’s downtown, patronized by both Christians and Muslims, returned to a semblance of normalcy within days of the initial influx. Residents flocked back to restaurants, bars, and open‑air terraces; shops reopened. Yet visible signs of discontent linger: storefronts display banners reading “Ceuta stands its ground — Ceuta won’t give up!” while Spanish and Ceuta flags flutter from balconies.
Spanish police and thousands of soldiers have been deployed to patrol the city centre and the border areas.
Residents have held regular protests as the crisis dragged on. In early October, roughly 200 demonstrators gathered outside the city hall to urge Spain’s left‑wing national government for solutions, banging pots and pans while draped in Ceuta’s black‑and‑white flag. They voiced frustration over what they called a sluggish state response; virtually none of the participants were Muslim.
Francisco Luna, 45, who runs an auto‑repair shop, said the spirit of coexistence has frayed, describing the mood in a single word: “terrible.”
He added that some Muslims in the city are shielding migrants, prompting him to question their allegiance 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.”
Ceuta has been under Spanish sovereignty for centuries. Its 84,000 inhabitants are Spanish and EU citizens; many come from the mainland, whereas most of the Muslim population traces its ancestry to Morocco, maintains family ties there, and speaks Moroccan Arabic. Smaller Jewish and Hindu communities also reside in the city.
The enclave lags behind much of Spain in wealth, and Muslims face higher poverty rates than other residents, according to a 2025 report from the Catholic charity Caritas. The study found that 44 % of Muslim households are marginalized, versus 28 % of the city’s total population.
Several predominantly Muslim districts on the city’s periphery, characterised by narrow, steep, maze‑like streets, suffer from elevated crime levels. While Muslims and Christians mingle in downtown shops, lively plazas, and broad avenues, interaction remains limited in the Muslim‑majority neighbourhoods.
Local politician Mohamed Mustafa said the divisions existed long before the latest border surge, though he conceded the crisis has exacerbated them. Ceuta has endured earlier migrant waves at its frontier, but this summer’s influx proved the deadliest.
“The image of coexistence is a mirage,” Mustafa said. “It’s a tourism slogan, but it doesn’t reflect reality.”
On Tuesday, Spain’s king and queen will attend a ceremony at a Muslim cemetery in Ceuta to honour the more than 140 migrants who perished while attempting the crossing in July, dozens of whom remain unidentified.
As the crisis enters its third month, Ceuta’s residents share a common sentiment: they are weary of the ongoing situation.
When migrants erected a sprawling makeshift tent camp on a nearby beach, Emilio Muñoz, who lives in a house close by, said he felt compelled to move away.
He set up a tent outside the city hall to protest, demanding action, and started sleeping there as well. Before long, about a dozen others joined him, staying intermittently for a month until authorities cleared the beachside camp after removing several 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 where various religious and ethnic groups work and live side by side, but acknowledged that something has been damaged.
“I do see a rift,” Muñoz said, “but we have to move forward.”