Welcome back. This newsletter comes to you from my living room, with luggage all packed, as I leave Brussels for my summer break. Where am I off to, you may wonder? Tomorrow I'll be in Norway, with stopovers in Denmark and Sweden, before wrapping my European tour in my favourite place: the island of La Palma.

Depending on where you are reading this from, you may be inclined to go: three weeks, paid vacation, that's a European cliché in the flesh. And you're right. I will always defend the beauty of August away from the office, the email sign-off "see you in September," and the three-hour lunch. It's a way of life, and it's our way of life. Stop the always-optimising, get on the Euromaxxing. 

That was the point of this week's newsletter when I began musing about its title, perhaps inspired by the work of Tove Jansson. Right before I go on vacation, I get myself in the mood by selecting my summer reads. The Book of Summer, by the Finnish author, tells the story of a young girl and her grandmother spending time together on an island in the Gulf of Finland. It's an absolute celebration of life. I read it over the weekend. It was supposed to come with me on the plane, but I'm impatient by nature. What books am I taking with me next? Hyperpolitics by Anton Jäger (I'm halfway through) and Hot Milk by Deborah Levy, set in Spain.

While Euromaxxing sounded like a great idea at the start of the week, it came crashing down hard. On Tuesday, the extent of wildfires across France, Spain and Greece had turned into a devastating wipeout of land, lives and property that rattled me. The numbers cannot become a new normal. More than 10,000 excess deaths were recorded in June as a result of extreme temperatures.

The EU's crisis chief, Hadja Lahbib, told Euronews that the wildfires were a "wake-up call" to more intense and frequent heatwaves. She spoke to us from Gironde. Her face was shiny with sweat, and you could feel the heat just by looking at her. When I asked whether the European Commission, which barely mentions the Green Deal anymore, would have to rebalance its priorities beyond industry and security, she told me: "this isn't the time for controversy, but solidarity" — which in essence means more cash for climate prevention. Will she get it? Not if member states keep pushing to cut the common budget.

On Thursday afternoon, my phone started beeping more than usual (I'm a journalist — alerts, pinging emails, none of it bothers me). My notifications pointed to "alerta máxima en Ceuta" — Spanish for red alert in Ceuta, a Spanish territory in North Africa — and within the hour, the border collapsed.

The footage carried by news agencies was stunning: men and boys swimming across the border to enter the city, practically unchecked, as Spanish police found themselves outnumbered. An hour later, thousands were crossing en masse. Those familiar with the region know that the complex diplomacy between Spain and Morocco, using migration as a means to extract concessions, isn't new — and Europe is always prepared to pay. Nor is this the first time tensions have flared across the territory, always in the same direction.

When people ask me just how Spanish Ceuta is, my answer is: very much. It's not just a feeling — its history with Spain dates back to the 17th century. Anyone who has been to Ceuta (or the adjacent Melilla) will hear a southern Spanish accent, very similar to Andalusian. It's also a strategically vital location for Spain, as the enclave allows the Spanish to keep access to the Strait of Gibraltar, forming a triangle with Tarifa and Algeciras. The territory is separated from Morocco by a physical, patrolled border, for which both Madrid and Rabat are responsible.

This week, its collapse represented a major security breach that will have consequences well beyond the summer.

Migration can be used to do politics. And while I deplore the tactics, it often works. Rabat denies it instrumentalises young people looking for opportunities to pressure Madrid, but there is a pattern built over time. In 2021, about 10,000 people crossed the border illegally in two days after it emerged that Spain had granted medical assistance to Brahim Ghali, which Morocco interpreted as an offence. This week, that number was five times higher.

Why did tensions flare up again? It depends who you ask. Some point to a controversial Spanish court ruling suggesting that entering Ceuta by sea wouldn't be conducive to immediate repatriation, which was then amplified by social media in Morocco. In fact, many were seen swimming into the Spanish side of the border, instead of jumping the fence. Others suggest that, as the King of Morocco celebrated Throne Day, law enforcement was redirected from the border to guarantee the security of the celebrations. There's also the politics.

Morocco has grown assertive under Trump, who congratulated King Mohammed VI for the occasion, as relations between Madrid and Washington continue to deteriorate. Others point to payback for Sánchez's high-level visit to Algeria — which provides gas to Spain and is a rival to Morocco — just 10 days ago, a visit both countries hailed as the start of a new phase in diplomatic relations.

Or, in the most extreme of theories, an attempt by the US to destabilise Spain with the help of Rabat, in retaliation for Sánchez's antics at NATO. This seems far-fetched, although Sánchez's minister for transport, Óscar Puente, tweeted a cryptic post aiming at an Israeli official. The US State Department shared a post on Friday calling the scenes at Ceuta an "unacceptable incident," directly the product of the Spanish government's "deliberate efforts to enable and facilitate mass illegal migration into Europe" — and that's relevant.

Pedro Sánchez has been in the hot seat for months in Europe over his decision to regularise half a million people — announced without consultation with European partners, at a time when the union is mostly pivoting to a harder line on migration. For European conservatives, Sánchez not only broke a principle of good-faith collaboration on a key subject, but he was reckless.

A pledge to "give out papers" to more than 500,000 people would, in their eyes, inevitably lead to a surge in illegal migration. Madrid defended — and still defends — the decision, saying these are people who already live and work in Spain, and they deserve legal and social protections. Off the record, Spanish officials will tell you the plan is mostly aimed at South Americans, who do jobs no one else will do. Latin American migration is broadly well-received in Spain and seen as positive. Yet the European right insists the damage is done.

As the border collapsed, and thousands stormed into Ceuta, with police unable to contain the flow of people, European capitals began pointing the finger at Sánchez. Meloni quickly suggested Italy would suspend free movement with its Iberian ally; the Nordic governments called on Spain to restore order; and Paris announced enhanced border checks with its direct neighbour. 

Spanish sources tell me they were shocked by Meloni. A diplomat told me Italy had acted in an undignified way by linking the migration regularisation to an assault on an ally. On Thursday night, my Spanish contacts also began to speak of a hostile act against Spain, which expected solidarity and didn't get it. With Italy, the relationship is broken — certainly until the next election in 2027.

The question of European solidarity is important. As capitals pounded Spain's migration policy, Sánchez spoke, from Ceuta, of an "attack, a violation of Spain's territorial integrity." Ceuta is a Spanish city, he said, and therefore European.

For 24 hours, footage captured closed shops, shuttered bars, and a population under shock. I don't want to speculate, and few incidents were reported, but the sheer number of people entering in 13 hours — according to the Spanish government, 50,000; according to the opposition, closer to 60,000 — into a city of 84,000 inhabitants makes this a traumatic event for its people. 

Meanwhile, in European circles, a frenzy erupted over freedom of movement and the many migrants who would supposedly cross the border into mainland Spain to reach the continent. This reflects both a deep ignorance about the territory and a degree of political instrumentalisation. 

Anyone familiar with Ceuta (and Melilla) knows there can be no crossings into mainland Spain in a situation of emergency – and even on regular days, the border is subject to controls. No one was going to cross illegally into Europe from Ceuta just like that. They would not show up in Copenhagen or the Pyrenees overnight. It simply doesn't work like that.

Meanwhile, the head of the European Commission, Ursula von der Leyen, pointed the finger at human traffickers. Sánchez did too – to be clear, he did not blame Moroccan authorities directly, even as Spanish authorities privately argued the border had been handled with total laissez-faire in the initial hours.

Funnily enough, it was the German Chancellor, Friedrich Merz of the CDU, who offered the most measured analysis: Spain should redouble efforts to contain the situation, and Morocco would have to help accelerate returns. The Portuguese head of the European Council, António Costa – who seems to be one of the few who actually understands how Schengen works – spoke in solidarity with Spain.

As I file this newsletter at 10pm on a Friday, the Spanish foreign ministry says the situation has returned to business as usual. Sánchez is also trying to regain some political capital, calling out his critics in Europe, including Meloni.

The 48,300 returnee figures come from Spanish authorities, not Brussels, which even as chaos unfolded, still referred to Morocco as a trusted partner in dealing with migration flows. Time and again, European officials were careful not to inflame tensions with Rabat, refusing to enter "any speculation" on how 50,000 people ended up at a border point on a hot Thursday morning in July.

But questions are yet to be answered. Why did it take hours for the Spanish central government to deploy the army when it became clear that local authorities could no longer deal with the mass exodus of people? Did Spanish intelligence miss a build-up of people that, in their own words, represented "a violation of Spain's territorial integrity"? Why did Moroccan authorities not intervene until well into the night? And was something promised in return?

A smart reader brought to my attention the most important point of all: why would people risk their lives only to go back home 24 hours later? I get the point — but this was never a migration crisis, it is geopolitics. But one cannot forget — and the 26 seemed to suffer a collective glitch on this rather crucial point — that the people of Ceuta are European citizens. If you say Greenland cannot be weaponised against Denmark, the exact same principle applies to Spain.

The fact that European allies missed the mark of what was actually happening in Ceuta so badly, choosing instead to play petty politics through tone-deaf running commentary — vowing to shut borders and reinforcing border checks for domestic purposes only — is shocking. Whether you like Sánchez or not, this was the national security of a member state being breached in real time.

But it also shows how Sánchez and his policies are being perceived by his most strategic partners. And it's a problem. He must start rebuilding alliances and, where needed, make amends. Spain cannot become ostracised from the European Union. As for Morocco, it should offer, at the soonest, a detailed explanation of what happened and how it intends to ensure it doesn't happen again, while it benefits from EU taxpayer money. After all, Europe's credibility is also at stake in Ceuta.

​As always, if you have any comments, email me at Questo indirizzo email è protetto dagli spambots. È necessario abilitare JavaScript per vederlo..

— Maria Tadeo

BEFORE YOU GO, A THANK YOU FROM ME 

By now, you will have guessed, this is my last Off the Record before the summer break. When I started this newsletter, I promised zeitgeist, and I hoped to have delivered just that; a good read, combining analysis with original reporting, politics, culture, newsmakers and some literary references. My goal was to take each one of you on a journey with me across Europe. Off the Record has come to you from Gdansk, Barcelona, Paris, Brussels, Luxembourg, Tivat, Santander, Budapest, Madrid, Strasbourg, Warsaw, London, et al, each with the tribulations that come with field reporting (I will always be a field reporter at heart despite the fancy title). Off the Record will be back in your inbox on August 29.

It's been a pleasure. Maria.