Sandra López, Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party (PSOE) secretary for Institutional Policy in Ceuta, stumbled last Saturday afternoon upon a group of migrants while walking her dog. One of them, speaking halting Spanish and using expressive gestures, asked how to get to the Ceuta neighborhood of Benzú. His name was Adil and he was about 25 years old. She pointed out the shortest route, across the Postigo area. He flatly refused. When she pressed — bewildered by his resistance to the directions — he lifted his clothing to show her his body. He revealed scratches on his legs and torso and, above all, wounds, one of them deep, on his left arm, traces of the blows he said he had suffered in that neighborhood. She photographed the injuries with her phone and asked why he had not reported what happened to the police. He dismissed the idea. He was afraid that if he went to the station he would be arrested and expelled from Ceuta. Adil and his companions began walking toward Benzú, taking a several-kilometer detour to avoid the alleged attackers.

At the entrance to Postigo, López saw several cars blocking the way and a group of residents standing guard. Among them were a young woman with a dog and a man carrying a baseball bat. A little further up, next to the animal shelter, she again saw the man with the bat. He was in an SUV with a passenger. Both got out and approached a group of migrants nearby, urging them to leave. López did not see them hit anyone.

Although the people of Ceuta have largely rejected any violent response to the arrival of tens of thousands of migrants, the formation of civilian patrols is not unique to Postigo. In other neighborhoods, such as Los Rosales or Benítez, groups of residents have blocked entrances with barriers and keep watch 24 hours a day to bar outsiders from entering. The vast majority of the 72,000 people who, according to official estimates, came in through the Tarajal border crossing on July 30 have already left, but between 2,000 and 6,000 remain, depending on the source. They were cleared from the city center days ago, but now they wander the outskirts hiding from authorities and approaching neighborhoods in search of water, food, and shelter after five days exposed to the elements and without basic supplies. Residents complain that they slip into houses, steal from them, and relieve themselves in the street.

But the civilian patrols that aim to “clean” Ceuta of migrants, in their own words, are not limiting their actions to their own neighborhoods. EL PAÍS has verified how they coordinate via WhatsApp groups to go out at night to “hunt” migrants hiding in the hills or on the breakwaters to avoid being returned to Morocco. They exchange photos and videos that show a group of people huddled on a small terrace or lying on the ground in a dark alley. When they locate them, they set off: “Even if there are only seven of us I don’t care. Let’s go after all of them. They run because they’re afraid,” writes someone who appears to be one of the ringleaders.

Someone posts a message from a soldier in the chat: “Look, I’m military and all that. We’re doing patrols, but they won’t let us do anything. We’ve been assigned the Hacho [mountain] area. I don’t want to speak in the group so I don’t get into trouble for giving out information.” The person who posted the screenshot comments: “See how we have to organize ourselves? They [the military] are tied down.”

“We’re seeing cockroaches among the rocks,” writes one participant in the chat, apparently alerting the others, who have spent much of the night searching without success. When they prepare to act, the more experienced members give instructions to the rest: “Don’t record anything. Afterwards they’ll say we’re the bad guys and we’re just defending what’s ours.” The message exchange does not make clear whether they have weapons or blunt instruments, but the boldest member urges others to join him in the early hours: “Put on a T-shirt, I have a balaclava and the car is full of stuff, come.” The alleged leader is clear that what they are doing may be illegal when he urges everyone: “Gentlemen, anyone with tattoos should cover them well, in case someone decides to record — there’s always some idiot who won’t stop — don’t get exposed.”

“Zurrón clean,” one writes, referring to a Ceuta neighborhood. “Escollera Benítez clean,” adds another. “My neighborhood clean,” a third sums up. However, the operation must be abruptly halted. Several residents have alerted the police to the presence of immigrant hunters. “They’re literally telling the police that there are armed, hooded civilians causing trouble,” says a member of the group on the scene. “Guys, won’t the police let us patrol?” asks another, surprised. “Neither the police nor residents anymore,” laments the first. “If they see us, we’ll be reported for a fine,” he explains, adding that the officers have warned them. “Run now,” orders the alleged leader. No arrests are made.

Spanish far-right party Vox has been the only political group to theorize the right of Ceuta’s residents to self-defense. “When you see your home, your comfort zone, your family, your children threatened, you have every right in the world to defend yourself. Let everyone defend their family with whatever they have at hand. With a stick or whatever. That is Vox’s message,” said Samuel Vázquez, the party’s spokesman on Security and Immigration and a national police officer by profession.

Nevertheless, both the neo-Nazi group Núcleo Nacional, which traveled from the peninsula intending to join the civilian patrols, and far-right activists Alvise Pérez and Vito Quiles, who arrived in the city over the weekend to capitalize on the unrest, were expelled by police or by the demonstrators themselves who were protesting against the government. The Spanish far right, which has made defending Ceuta and Melilla one of its banners, is not welcome in the North African exclaves. Their Islamophobia clashes head-on with a society where more than 40% of the population is Muslim and which closes ranks against any external aggression, without regard to a neighbor’s religion.