Key messages
- Public opinion in Spain expresses clear sympathy for self-determination in the Western Sahara, based on a demanding interpretation of international law, the significant emotional appeal of the Sahrawi cause and frequently fraught relations with Morocco.
- In diplomatic terms there has been a need to combine, and to a large extent subordinate, such sympathy with considerations of the utmost importance: the need to maintain crucial equilibriums and ties in Spain’s southern neighbourhood, the reality on the ground and the stances of other major international actors.
- Withdrawal from the territory, which took place in the final days of the dictatorship, and Spain’s conduct since the formation of the first democratic government in 1977, have both been guided by the lesser of two evils, bearing in mind the national interest as it was interpreted at the time and the limited ability to put the conflict on an alternative course.
- The shift towards Morocco’s solution since 2022 may be explained on the grounds of the same reasoning, which has evolved in light of recent developments and the clear priority that is now placed on maintaining functional Madrid-Rabat relations. The available scope for agency may be redirected to supporting effective self-government for the former colony.
Analysis
The signing of the Declaration of Principles on Western Sahara between Spain, Morocco and Mauritania (Madrid Accords) took place on 14 November 1975, marking the end of the Spanish administration of the Western Sahara and leading to the immediate occupation of most of the territory by Morocco and, in its southern third, by Mauritania. The 50th anniversary of that landmark provides a good opportunity to reflect on the issue and its developments in the intervening period. As well as the interest inherent in the conflict from various perspectives of international relations –among others, the processes of decolonisation, the regional tensions in the Maghreb and the impotence of the United Nations to resolve disputes– it also constitutes a paradigmatic case study of the difficult, not to say impossible, balancing act that exists between the claims of values on the one hand and the national interest on the other, a dilemma that sometimes arises in the foreign policy of a democracy; in this case, Spanish democracy.
This perspective is pursued in the ensuing pages and, following a general introduction, an exploration is made of the factors that moulded Madrid’s major decisions on the territory at three pivotal periods: surrounding the withdrawal (1975-76), during the 45 years of neutrality regarding its definitive status (1977-2022) and the recent shift towards the autonomy solution put forward by Rabat.
Spain’s stance on the Sahrawi conflict: attitudes, interests and determining factors
What is the Spanish stance on the conflict in the Western Sahara? When answering a question about how a country views a controversial international matter it is advisable to distinguish various levels: the most widespread views among the general public, the view prvailing among those who have prescriptive powers (political parties, civil society organisations and prominent intellectuals), the dominant opinion of the state apparatus (diplomats, the armed forces and other high-ranking officials) and, lastly, the government’s official stance, which steers foreign policy with the endorsement of a parliamentary majority.
The available opinion polls are unanimous regarding the high degree of interest in the subject. Three fourths of interviewees report having their own opinion, which is almost always expressed in favour of free determination. Among the possible options this encompasses, a clear majority favours independence, with the occasional dip in support, but also with striking findings such as the preference, as a second option, for the territory to be autonomous within Spain rather than falling under Moroccan sovereignty. The firm rejection of the latter possibility is also independent of political allegiance, although the reasons for rejection differ: whereas the left rejects it out of support for the Sahrawi cause, on the right it is more a case of animosity to the Moroccan cause.
This clear support extends to civil society organisations, to academic circles and also predominates among political-administrative elites. First, there is a sense of historical responsibility towards the population of the Sahara and their harsh conditions, which has manifested itself in this time in the form of public solidarity and state aid. Another major factor is the importance placed on international law as a desirable guide to foreign policy, which in this case manifests itself not only in the suitability of applying the rule of indefinitely postponed jus cogens but also the undesirability of allowing Morocco, rather than the United Nations, to determine how decolonisation in its backyard should be consummated.
In contrast to this diffuse but persistent national sentiment in favour of self-determination, the conduct of the various governments that have held office during this time has been guided less by principle and more by what they have viewed as the national interest and the perception of other external factors.
The main dimension that accounts for Spanish decisions in practice points to a desire to protect the integrity of national territory. The Western Sahara has never been viewed as part of the Spanish nation or even the state –despite having received, rather late in the day, the administrative status of a province– but what has always proved decisive has been concern regarding the effects of the conflict on Ceuta, Melilla and the Canary Islands. These stem both from Morocco’s persistent irredentism and the support for the Canary Islands’ independence emanating from postcolonial Algeria.
Linked to the foregoing, but going beyond it, Spain is aware of the importance of preserving stability in its immediate neighbour and the desirability of avoiding both internal turbulence and the derailing of bilateral relations. This leads to a preference for dealing with Morocco in a functionalist way and using formulas involving diplomatic undertakings, trying to avoid confrontation whenever possible. Friendship with Algiers is also important, but Rabat has an immensely greater capacity for influencing matters concerning security, migratory flows and economic cooperation.
A third recurring factor has been the limited enthusiasm for the birth of a new state in the Maghreb, facing the coasts of the Canary Islands, large in surface area but with a small population, likely to be institutionally weak, vulnerable to threats from the Sahel –in the form of Jihadist extremism, criminal networks or even Russian influence– and ultimately dependent on Algeria. Moreover, the fragile security prevailing throughout North Africa increases the value of the stability factor that Morocco represents for Spain.
Lastly, quite apart from its values and interests, Spain is aware of its limited ability to have a bearing on the way the dispute unfolds in the light of two major external factors: the evolution of the situation on the ground and the international context at any given moment. Although the Polisario Front proved to be relatively strong in the 1970s and 80s, forcing both Mauritania and Morocco into ceasefires, it is beyond question that the reality on the ground increasingly militates against it.
The regional panorama has also restricted Spain’s room for manoeuvre, given the permanent rivalry between the two major powers in the Maghreb. European divisions –with Paris always inclined to support Rabat– and the evolution of global geopolitics have not helped either: first, stemming from the Cold War and, over the last 20 years, from the return of more confrontational international relations. Only in the brief interlude between 1989 and 2001, under the benevolent hegemony of the US –a country that has always maintained a strategic friendship with Morocco– was there a certain hope of securing a balanced solution for all parties, one that could also have reconciled the principles and national interests of Spain.
The end of Spanish Sahara: decolonisation, the Cold War and the death throes of Francoism
When the European powers embarked on the carve-up of Africa and its adjacent islands at the end of the 19th century, Spain was already in the closing stages of its imperial history and could only participate in this expansion across the continent in a marginal and belated manner, in an effort to salvage what it could of its international status. Apart from the territories that have formed an integral part of Spain since its foundation –the Canary Islands, Melilla and Ceuta– a modest presence was established in the north of Morocco, in the so-called Spanish West Africa and in the Gulf of Guinea, all of which had predominantly symbolic value.
The Spanish Sahara was formally established in 1884, demarcated in 1912 and categorised by the UN as a ‘non-self-governing territory’ pending self-determination in the 1960s. But Morocco, which had just put an end to the French and Spanish protectorate in 1956, started to claim it as part of an audacious nationalist plan of territorial expansion: ‘Greater Morocco’, which would also include Mauritania and parts of Mali and Algeria. This unleashed a regional struggle characterised above all by the fierce rivalry between Rabat and Algiers, starting in 1962.
From his central position in Franco’s government, Admiral Luis Carrero Blanco was vehemently opposed to the Sahara succumbing to the same fate as Cape Juby and Ifni –handed over to Morocco in 1958 and 1969– arguing that it had never been Moroccan and fuelling hopes that, by categorising it as a Spanish province, the territory could avoid decolonisation. It was a plan condemned to failure and one that could only serve to delay, and eventually frustrate, statehood; although the same process culminated successfully for Equatorial Guinea in 1968.
The picture was complicated in 1973 with the emergence of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Saguia el-Hamra and Rio de Oro (Polisario Front), which immediately embarked upon violent activities against Spanish subjects and interests in the name of independence. Between 1974 and 1975 10-15 soldiers died in clashes[1] with the Polisario Front and various fishermen and officials were kidnapped. An escalation in the insurgency, combined with pressure from the UN to introduce self-determination, induced Madrid to concede a certain degree of autonomy in 1974 and announce a referendum.
Franco’s diplomats saw an opportunity for implementing international law to the letter –something that would reap dividends by simultaneously putting pressure on London to decolonise Gibraltar– thwarting Morocco’s expansionist appetites and creating a new Hispanophile state. The Foreign Affairs Minister, Pedro Cortina, told his US counterpart, Henry Kissinger, that the Sahrawis did not want to live under Moroccan authority and that Madrid could not leave them to their fate as though they were a ‘herd of camels’. Before Spain became a democracy, therefore, the three elements of a principled foreign policy on the Sahara that seemed a priori consistent with the national interest had already been established.
It soon became apparent that it was a well-intentioned blueprint detached from reality. The decision to hold a referendum triggered an acute crisis with Rabat, which reasserted its historic claims and took the case to the International Court of Justice that at the request of the UN itself delayed the holding of the referendum. In October 1975 the court acknowledged certain remote legal ties of loyalty between the Moroccan Sultan and a number of tribes in the area, but concluded that these did not constitute sovereignty and restated the right of the Sahrawi people to determine their own future. Nevertheless, Hassan II put a tendentious spin on the ruling, interpreting it as providing support for his aspirations and that same month embarked on the gimmicky ‘Green March’. Under the guise of a mass civil movement, he combined political pressure with military deployment at a time of the utmost Spanish frailty to force a withdrawal that, despite diplomats’ misgivings, was negotiated and executed at speed.
The Madrid Accords, apart from the fact that in legal terms it was impossible to transfer sovereignty, meant the effective handover of the administration of the territory and its subsequent partition between Morocco and Mauritania. The text included some economic compensation for Spain in fishing and phosphates. There was also a clause that was never fulfilled –reminiscent of the vacuous indirect reference to the Palestinians in the Balfour Declaration– calling on the opinion of the Sahrawi people and their tribal assembly to be respected. The UN decision not to recognise the text reduced it to a provisional and ambiguous arrangement, which maintained Spain as the de jure Administrative Power, despite the request sent to the UN Secretary General on 26 February 1976 renouncing such a status. Conflict between the new occupants and the Polisario Front immediately ensued, but the fate of the territory had already been sealed.
It is impossible to understand this chain of events unless the delicate state of affairs in Spain at that time is borne in mind. Amid General Franco’s death throes, the government led by Carlos Arias Navarro was aware of the political and military impossibility of withstanding a conflict with an aggressive Morocco, which was prepared to force the situation as it had recently done against Algeria in the ‘Sand War’ and previously against Spain and France in Ifni. Rabat had issued warnings to this effect –explicitly, moreover– both to Madrid and Washington.
The armed forces, including Prince Juan Carlos, were against embarking upon a war with no prospects of victory and there were also fears, both within reactionary and progressive spheres, that a last colonial conflict would lead to an institutional rupture similar to the one that had occurred in Portugal the previous year. The imminent inauguration of the new reign, in a highly fraught domestic context, made it highly advisable to avoid a military confrontation and rendered the use of force against the unarmed horde of the Green March unfeasible. Nor was it likely that there would be widespread domestic support, bearing in mind that attention was focused on the uncertainty inherent in the end of the regime, that military service was compulsory and that Spanish troops had already suffered attacks from the Polisario Front.
Added to all this was an international context that proved highly inimical to the fate of the Sahara. Although the Maghreb was not a key battleground in the Cold War, Morocco benefitted from the convergence of the US and France, both interested in maintaining the West’s influence. Washington prioritised stability and its ties with its historical North-African ally, while Paris sought to preserve its influence in the region, particularly in the context of its enmity with Algeria, with which it had just lost a bitter war of independence.
For its part, the Soviet bloc adopted a passive stance. Despite the ideological affinity between Algeria and the socialist camp, Moscow avoided a direct confrontation with Rabat, partly as a consequence of Moroccan diplomatic skill. The majority of Warsaw Pact countries abstained from the votes at the United Nations in December 1975, displaying a neutrality that de facto favoured the interests of Morocco.
Apart from this, Spain had neither the incentive nor the international support to withstand the pressure. It belonged neither to NATO nor the European Economic Community (EEC), it was diplomatically isolated owing to the Franco regime’s last executions, the UN was chasing it for an already-overdue decolonisation and, as already pointed out, its two main allies in its African foreign policy –with the personal involvement of the US Secretary of State, Henry Kissinger– wanted to avoid the Sahara becoming another potentially fragile state. Algeria, which did openly endorse self-determination, was a highly unreliable actor, as it soon proved when it showed its willingness to encourage the independence movement in the Canary Islands and provide refuge and training to ETA members up until the 1980s.
Scrutinising this diabolical conjunction of circumstances in hindsight, it is difficult to argue that there was an alternative course of action preferable to the one that was ultimately taken. Apart from a few exceptions, the withdrawal has been judged with excessive severity. It is true that it can never be regarded as an exemplary episode, having failed to fulfil a responsibility to the international community and a population, in theory deemed to be compatriots, which it was not able to steer towards self-determination. But given the impossibility of holding a referendum under Spanish auspices, the decision was taken to favour the lesser of two evils in avoiding a war[2] and safeguarding the most important national interests.
Another singularly self-critical idea is widespread throughout Spain: that the current stalemate in the conflict proves that Spain will be the last and worst of the Western powers to call time on its colonial ambitions. The self-determination of the Sahara ought undoubtedly to have been set in motion earlier. But Spain was not alone in its overdue and mismanaged processes of decolonisation. The Portuguese withdrawal from Timor, while Indonesia was preparing to invade it, was concurrent and strikingly similar. Also at that time, the breakaway state of Rhodesia was celebrating 10 years of unilateral independence (UDI) within the borders of what is now Zimbabwe, with London being powerless to prevent it. Furthermore, in November 1975, the UK, France and the US still maintained 15 colonies that today are independent states.[3]
Forty-five years of realist equilibriums and normative rhetoric
Spain’s stance on the Western Sahara between 1977 and 2022, despite a variety of governments of three distinct ideological persuasions, exhibited significantly more continuity than change. The devising of a democratic foreign policy, with political parties and public opinion both supporting the Saharan cause as a matter of principle, led to the establishment of an agreed narrative of respect for international legality through advocacy of ‘a fair, lasting and mutually acceptable political solution, leading to the free determination of the people of the Western Sahara within the framework of the United Nations’.
The formula was, however, deliberately ambiguous and the discomfort that it might cause Rabat was offset by an additional rhetoric of strict neutrality about the territory’s definitive status, which also served as a means of improving relations with Algeria. The increasing trade between Spain and the two Maghrebi countries did much to assist this approach of pragmatic equilibrium, although it gradually became evident that Morocco had more resources –economic, security-related, in migratory matters and in international support– to determine how the issue would unfold.
At the start of the period, in what is known in Spain as the Transition, relations with Rabat had considerable scope for improvement, given recent memories of the traumatic withdrawal from the Sahara and the recurrent fishing crises. Even cooler were relations with Algeria, which at that time supported groups of terrorists operating in Spain and started to advocate the self-determination of the Canary Islands at the Organisation of African Unity, partly in reprisal for the handover of the former colony to Morocco.
It was not until midway through the 1980s, concurrently with the definitive normalisation of Spain’s foreign affairs and accession to the European Community, that the global approach subsequently characteristic of Spain’s relations with its main neighbour to the south started to emerge. The policy devised by the Felipe González government was geared towards encouraging interdependencies between the two countries, based on the striking metaphor of a ‘cushion of shared interests’, which would function as a shock-absorber at times of tension; this formula would also be extended to Algeria, when it dropped its destabilising tactics and became a key provider of energy.
Ties with Morocco were formalised in the Friendship Treaty of 1991, which based neighbourly relations on functional cooperation and institutionalised periodic dialogue, thereby helping the Sahara dispute to remain relatively compartmentalised. Bilateral relations henceforth would suffer their ups and downs, relating more to style than substance, but the Spanish stance on the conflict –which in practice was rhetorical and neutral– remained unchanged. This was also true under José María Aznar, despite his clear distancing from Morocco and the crisis of Perejil Island, which showed that the supposed friendship was much less structural than had been imagined and that Rabat was still willing to resort to coercive measures. Nevertheless, José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero put relations back on a friendly footing and Mariano Rajoy stabilised them by taking a supremely functional approach geared towards cooperation and avoiding direct conflict.
Economic flows and integration into the value chains shared with Morocco have risen significantly in recent years. Bilateral trade exceeds €22.5 billion per annum, making Spain its main trade partner, with a major surplus and considerable investment on the part of Spanish firms. Taking advantage of its position as a key EU member state, Spain has invested political capital in promoting Morocco as one of Brussels’ preferred partners. Economic cooperation has subsequently been broadened to other fields where priorities converge, such as the fight against terrorism and controlling irregular migration. Interpersonal relations have also proliferated and the number of Moroccans resident in Spain is now close to one million. In short, the stability of, and bilateral relations with, the southern neighbour have become a national interest of great priority.
Meanwhile, events and the context on the international stage gradually consolidated Morocco’s position, particularly from the turn of the millennium. In the 15 years of war that followed Spain’s withdrawal, the Polisario Front had secured some successes, forcing Mauritania to abandon its claims to the territory in 1979 and gaining a ceasefire with Morocco in 1991, under the auspices of the UN, which included setting up a mission to organise a referendum: MINURSO. At the end of the 1990s, when multilateralism was on the rise following the end of the Cold War, there was even a faint hope of reaching a solution instigated by the UN. A solution was indeed found for East Timor –a similar conflict that seemed even more intractable– but each of James Baker’s plans failed in the case of the Sahara.
The UN’s special envoy had held high office under both Ronald Reagan and George Bush, as the White House Chief of Staff and US Secretary of State. Baker’s first proposal (2001) was an autonomy formula under Moroccan sovereignty, which was rejected outright by the Polisario Front, which regards independence as the only legitimate solution. His second plan (2003) envisaged a transitional five-year autonomy followed by an independence referendum, and this time it was rejected by Morocco, which argues that a referendum is unfeasible owing to the nomadic nature of part of the population and the impossibility of a reliable census.
The status quo since then has been characterised by the lack of progress on self-determination, the de facto control that Morocco exerts over most of the territory –which includes the part formerly assigned to Mauritania and is bordered by a defensive wall almost 3,000 km in length– and the gradual arrival of Moroccan settlers who are altering the original demographic composition. This is in addition to the protracted insecurity of almost 40% of the Sahrawis, displaced to south-west Algeria and living in the Tindouf refugee camps, a situation that only deteriorates over time.
Internationally the idea took hold of a conflict in paralysis. On the regional stage, Algeria and Morocco maintain their structural rivalry, with their mutual border closed since 1994, and the resulting impediment to any thawing of relations. Occasional institutional headway is made in the EU in favour of the Saharan cause, albeit restricted to the European Parliament and the Court of Justice. The structural limits on European foreign policy prevented this from having effective impacts, particularly in light of the explicit inclination of France, which decided to lend its official support to the vague autonomy plan set out by Morocco in 2007. The US also maintained its traditional support for Morocco, which was promoted to the status of strategic ally in 2004.
The Polisario Front has been losing support even at the United Nations: in 1979 the UN Committee on Decolonisation passed a resolution calling on Morocco to put an end to its ‘occupation’ of the territory, with 83 votes in favour, 43 abstentions and only five against, indicating the level of backing the Sahrawi cause then received. Twenty-five years later, at the 2004 General Assembly vote, only 50 states gave their backing, compared with 100 abstentions or absences, suggesting the growing global indifference towards the conflict.
Given this combination of factors, from the international scenario to the reality on the ground and its transcendental interest in cooperating with its two Maghrebi neighbours –especially with Morocco– Spain’s stance on the Sahara between 1977 and 2022 remained wedded to the lesser-of-two-evils approach. With very little scope for placing the conflict on any alternative course, a conciliatory normative rhetoric and a pragmatic line of approach were adopted. In formal terms, Madrid placed the UN in a central role, to satisfy prevailing public opinion, while abstaining from taking any substantive positions that would jeopardise its extremely close relations with Rabat or the cooperation with Algiers on energy.
The reasons for the rapprochement with the Moroccan position since 2022
In the last five years the conflict in the Western Sahara has entered a new phase characterised by the international consolidation of Morocco’s position. The turning point came in December 2020, when the Trump Administration recognised Rabat’s sovereignty over the territory within the framework of the Abraham Accords; in other words, as a quid pro quo for normalising relations between Morocco and Israel. That decision –which was not subsequently overturned by the Biden Administration– decisively tipped scales that were already leaning in one direction and strengthened the perception that the status quo was irreversible.
Against this background the Polisario Front declared the end of the ceasefire in force since 1991 and recommenced hostilities, a sign of frustration at the political stagnation and Morocco’s increasing control over the territory. The war resumed in a limited –almost symbolic– way, while the UN once again confirmed its inability to mediate. Its new special envoy, the Italian-Swedish diplomat Staffan de Mistura, confirmed that all parties rejected his partition plan, which offered the merging of two thirds of the territory into Morocco and the creation of a new Sahrawi state in the southern third, assigned to Mauritania in 1976.
In March 2022 Spain decided to modify its position. In a letter to Mohammed VI the Spanish Prime Minister, Pedro Sánchez, expressed the view that the 2007 Moroccan plan for autonomy was ‘the most serious, realistic and credible proposal’ for resolving the conflict. In doing so, Madrid abandoned its formal neutrality and moved closer, at least in part, to the position advocated by Paris and Washington. The decision was presented as a pragmatic way of making progress on the future of the Sahara and above all of embarking upon a more stable phase in bilateral relations, afflicted at that time by the acute migration crisis of May 2021.[4]
Indeed, a major factor underlying this shift was the increasingly aggressive stance of Morocco, which found it unacceptable that Spain should not follow the path already taken by the US and France regarding the Sahara. And to ensure that it got its way it was more than willing to put its coercive capabilities to work in highly sensitive areas for national security: control of migrant movements, maritime borders, pressures on Ceuta and Melilla, antiterrorist cooperation and cyber-security, with the Pegasus case as the principal example.
The shift incurred major risks, of course: domestically, bearing in mind the prevailing climate of polarisation and social sensitivity, it was bound to be rejected both by the opposition and the junior coalition partners and a large part of the government’s own electorate. Externally, a certain degree of authority was lost, albeit of doubtful utility in the preceding 45 years, linked to having hitherto maintained a normative and impartial position on the conflict. Moreover, the shift disrupted the traditional equilibrium between Algiers and Rabat, leading to Algerian reprisals with a negative impact, especially in the energy sector. Furthermore, and no doubt more dangerously, it may have encouraged the temptation in Rabat to continue using these strategies of hybrid coercion, which instead of military force uses instruments that strike at security vulnerabilities such as uncontrolled immigration and suspending cooperation on antiterrorism and drug trafficking.
The government was aware of these downsides, but weighing up the national interest and the room for manoeuvre available decided that the priority had become one of lessening the dangerous tension with its immediate neighbour and rebuilding damaged relations. In any event, even if Morocco wants to believe that Spain has now made a definitive concession on sovereignty similar to Trump’s, the truth is that the new stance continues to call for self-determination, although now advising that this should not manifest itself in independence; this is a similar line to the one pursued by France almost 20 years ago and following Spain it was also adopted by Germany, the UK and Portugal.
This subsequent development –culminating in a resolution at the UN Security Council in October 2025 that also implicitly endorsed the positions of Rabat– confirms an overwhelming international tendency in favour of the autonomy solution, which includes the five permanent members and all of the EU. With only 45 countries that today recognise the Sahrawi Arab Democratic Republic –compared with more than 160 that recognise Palestine– the Western Sahara has been relegated to a secondary position on the international agenda.
In short, despite the undeniable shift in the Spanish position on the Sahara, with the abandonment of its official and longstanding impartiality, there is also a core element that has remained unchanged over 50 years: the reconciliation, and at times the subordination, of the public’s somewhat general preferences for specific and indeed sometimes immediate demands, with highly complex bilateral relations. Such pragmatism is bolstered by an international context and a reality on the ground that has evolved over the last five years so as to reduce any realistic prospect for Sahrawi independence to a minimum. It is therefore likely that a future government formed by Spain’s Partido Popular (PP), despite its current rhetoric evoking tension with Morocco, will not fundamentally change the posture adopted in 2022.
Conclusions: the difficulty of being a good neighbour in combination with a principles-based foreign policy and the unknown factor of credible self-government
Spain has maintained more continuity than variation in its stance on the Western Sahara over the last half century, despite the fact that in that time there was a change of regime, seven Prime Ministers and apparent shifts in the language of the diplomatic script being used. This continuity manifests itself both in the prevailing social consensus, which continues being highly favourable to the fulfilment of self-determination, and in the policy pursued by the government, which has always prioritised the management of those national interests deemed most important rather than a principles-based approach. There is no other area of Spanish foreign policy, and there are few examples in the foreign policies of other democracies, where this tension manifests itself so starkly. The challenge going forward comprises managing and reducing it, which requires acting on at least four inter-related levels: relations with Morocco, the future of Sahrawi self-government, internal accountability and general foreign policy.
Madrid-Rabat relations will continue unfolding in a context that is simultaneously bountiful and fragile, where collaboration, competition and friction coexist. It is obvious that the direct geographical proximity is not going to disappear and it seems more than likely that the same applies to the close cooperation that operates at almost all levels and the continued existence of tensions, which include the questioning of territorial integrity. It is not impossible that Morocco will once again resort to types of pressure that are unacceptable between good neighbours, such as those deployed in the precedents of the Green March in 1975, Perejil in 2002 and Ceuta in 2021, but on both sides there is sufficient intelligence to understand the mutual importance and both parties’ red lines in their essential positions. The independence of the Sahara is non-negotiable for Morocco, but Spain also has major values and interests at stake. It is not a matter of idealism or settling a moral debt but rather avoiding a precedent in which a unilateral fait accompli imposes itself on international law when it comes to setting borders in its immediate strategic vicinity.
This leads to Spain’s room for manoeuvre to influence the final status of the Sahara. It is worth recalling that it has always been a highly limited scope and that Spain cannot be expected to secure a political solution that befits and is acceptable to the Sahrawis when no neighbour with significant military capabilities, such as Algeria, has been able to secure this, nor the Organisation of African Unity –which eventually placed such importance on the matter that it triggered Morocco’s withdrawal– nor the active multilateralism of the UN –with a dedicated mission and numerous resolutions– nor the demanding line taken by the EU institutions, nor even US diplomacy in its most constructive phases, with a former Secretary of State in charge of the process.
There is, however, scope for using the upward trend in the bilateral relationship and in the multinational forums. Ultimately, it is in Morocco’s interest to gain international recognition that the decolonisation has taken place in order to normalise its relations with the EU and Africa as a whole, starting with a thaw in the harmful suspension of relations with Algeria. The advantage of the current stance compared with the neutrality maintained between 1977 and 2022 is that now a more proactive position can be taken in proposing ample and guaranteed self-governance solutions. Morocco has even cited as possible precedents for its 2007 plan the ambitious autonomy statutes covering Andalusia, the Canary Islands and Catalonia, which provides Spain with the authority to take a leading role in the process. It is true that genuine autonomy does not currently seem plausible under an authoritarian regime with a history of breaching previous pledges on the Western Sahara. But the current lack of credibility of the Moroccan proposal also helps to strengthen Spain’s potential role as a promotor or supervisor.
Thirdly, despite the fact that is almost impossible to restore domestic consensus, it is at least necessary to nurture the conversation that an advanced democracy deserves. This involves transparently setting out the important national interests at stake and exploring how these can be reconciled with the equally important principles; this again leads to seriously looking at solutions involving autonomy or association with the widest form of self-government. Indeed, Spain cannot discredit the principle of autonomy as a possible form of self-determination without casting doubt on the very territorial model that characterises it domestically. It is also possible to question Spanish public opinion, which sympathises with the fate of the Sahrawis, arguing that making progress on a compromise with Morocco may be the most practical way of improving the human-rights situation and enabling the rightful return of the refugees from Tindouf.
Lastly, the foregoing would also help to reduce the apparent dissonance between the stance taken on this issue and the rhetoric of coherence that is deployed in other scenarios, such as Ukraine and Gaza, regarding the defence of international law and the principle of self-determination. Foreign credibility is not only a matter of prestige; it is also something that involves predictability and solidity, and therefore power. This applies to Rabat of course, but also to other capitals that are important to Spain. Ultimately it may be that there is not so much tension between principles and the national interest after all.
[1] When it is said that ‘10-15 soldiers died in clashes’, the uncertainty reflects the lack of official sources and the contradictory nature of witness statements regarding the number of fatalities. Many incidents in the Western Sahara at that time were not recorded precisely, the records that remain are incomplete and some figures derive from unpublished internal military reports or subsequent accounts written on the basis of survivors’ statements; hence the impossibility of establishing an exact figure and the use of an estimated range.
[2] It is true that Spain’s colonial expanse post-1945 was comparatively modest, but the country nonetheless managed to avoid the human drama and the economic cost –in conflicts with no possible victorious outcome– that the Fjrench (Algeria, Indochina, Madagascar), the Portuguese (Angola, Guinea-Bissau, Mozambique), the Dutch (Indonesia) and even the British (Kenya, Malaysia, Palestine) had to endure.
[3] These same three countries are the powers currently administering 15 of the 17 territories that the UN still classifies as non-self-governing. The other two cases are Tokelau, the definitive status of which in relation to New Zealand is still to be settled, and the Western Sahara, which is the largest of these 17 territories pending decolonisation both in terms of population and in terms of surface area.
[4] The crisis blew up when the leader of the Polisario Front, Brahim Gali, was hospitalised for COVID in Spain, provoking outrage in Rabat. In response, Morocco relaxed border controls in Ceuta and allowed the mass entry of around 10,000 migrants, including children, in a 48-hour period. This was condemned by the European Parliament.
