In the heart of southern Spain, the small town of Torre Pacheco has become a stark symbol of Europe's ongoing struggle with immigration and integration. Over recent weeks, this once-quiet agricultural hub has been rocked by violent clashes between right-wing groups and mainly Moroccan migrants, exposing deep societal fractures and raising urgent questions about the future of Spain’s migration policies.
The turmoil erupted on July 9, 2025, when Domingo Tomas Martinez, a 68-year-old retired farm worker, was brutally attacked during his usual early morning walk. According to reports, Tomas was confronted by three young men of Moroccan origin, one wielding a stick, who knocked him down and beat him severely. Tomas, who insists he did nothing to provoke the assault, believes the attack was carried out for the thrill or even for social media attention. “I had my watch and house keys with me, and that young man didn’t even take the watch. He just hit me to hurt me. He hit me for fun,” he said.
Images of Tomas’s bloodied face quickly spread across Spain, igniting outrage and sparking a wave of unrest. Far-right forums stoked the flames by calling for a “Maghrebi hunt,” essentially a targeted manhunt against North African immigrants. This incitement led to nights of violent clashes between masked Moroccan youths and far-right thugs, leaving several injured and causing property damage, including the destruction of a kebab shop owned by a Muslim local. Police finally restored order on July 14 by intercepting vehicles carrying weapons and making fourteen arrests, though a heavy security presence remains.
The unrest has sharply divided political opinion. Spain’s left-wing government, led by the Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party, condemned the far-right violence. However, critics accuse the government of ignoring the violence and criminality from some migrant groups. The Podemos party, part of the governing coalition, used the riots to call for prosecuting Santiago Abascal, leader of the hard-right Vox party, accusing him of inciting hatred. Abascal, in turn, seized the moment to demand “immediate deportations” to stem what he described as Spain’s “criminal migrant invasion.” Vox’s popularity has surged, now polling well above Podemos, with immigration ranking as the second-biggest concern among Spaniards.
Vox’s platform includes an extreme policy of “remigration,” promising to deport up to eight million foreigners if elected. This hardline stance resonates in places like Torre Pacheco, where the demographic landscape has shifted dramatically. The town’s population has doubled in 30 years to about 40,000, with roughly a third now foreign-born—half of whom are Moroccan. This rapid change, driven largely by the agricultural sector’s demand for labor, has unsettled many locals.
Amid this backdrop, the concept of “second-generation immigrants” has come into sharp focus. In Torre Pacheco, an astonishing 60% of babies born in 2023 had at least one foreign parent, mostly Moroccan. Nationally, second-generation immigrants—defined by sociologists Alejandro Portes and Rosa Aparicio as young people born in Spain to foreign parents or brought to the country before age 12—represent about 30% of all births, up from just 4.5% in 1996. This trend is particularly pronounced in certain provinces like Girona and Lleida, where nearly half of all babies have foreign parentage.
Despite these numbers, the integration of these second-generation immigrants remains a complex challenge. Portes and Aparicio’s 2013 research, published by the Elcano Royal Institute, suggests that while adult immigrants often remain transient, their children tend to put down roots and become the “new Spanish.” Yet, many of these children face identity struggles, caught between cultures and sometimes subjected to discrimination. Sociologist Paulino Ros, who runs the Islam In Murcia blog, notes that many second- and third-generation Moroccan descendants feel like “foreigners at home.”
Language barriers compound these challenges. Antonio Vicente, head of Sabina Mora secondary school in nearby Roldán, where 68% of pupils are of Moroccan origin, highlights the need for comprehensive language immersion programs to aid both children and adults. Osama Alalo, an employment agency owner in Torre Pacheco, emphasizes the importance of genuine dialogue between local authorities and the Moroccan community to foster trust and belonging.
The violent events in Torre Pacheco have also forced a broader reckoning with Spain’s immigration model. Professor Juan Angel Soto of the University of Navarra describes the town as “the frontline of Spain’s migration model—and its failure to integrate newcomers.” Some migrants live in precarious conditions, with limited access to social services and scant integration into Spanish society. Schools have become multicultural hubs, with over 60% of students from migrant backgrounds in some areas, reflecting the demographic transformation.
The recent violence has also exposed simmering tensions and the rise of extremist rhetoric. A fake video of Tomas’s beating circulated widely, amplifying misinformation. A Telegram group called “Deport Them Now” mobilized calls for violent reprisals. Local authorities struggled to contain the unrest, resorting to sealing off town entrances to prevent outside agitators from escalating the conflict.
Political responses have been mixed and often contentious. Podemos minister Ione Belarra called for the “immediate legalisation of everyone living here” as a measure to curb racist violence, while accusing the police of harboring neo-fascist ideology—a claim that police unions have denounced as “extremely serious.” Meanwhile, Vox’s rhetoric and growing electoral strength underscore a polarization that many fear could deepen social divisions.
In Torre Pacheco, residents live with the uneasy reality of this new social landscape. Mohammed, a 30-year-old motorcycle mechanic, and Mustafa Kawder, a farm laborer, both Moroccan-born, insist they are not involved in violence and consider Spain their home. Yet, the threat of racism lingers. Local business owners like Hassan, whose kebab shop was attacked, and Salah El Hilali, who runs Cafeteria Estambul, express concern but also trust in police protection.
The town’s history as a farming community transformed by irrigation in the late 1970s into a fertile agricultural zone has attracted thousands of migrant workers from Morocco, Mali, Senegal, Romania, and Ecuador. Many arrived legally, but irregular migration and informal labor markets have complicated integration efforts.
The recent unrest in Torre Pacheco is a microcosm of wider European challenges. It illustrates how rapid demographic change, economic necessity, political polarization, and failures in integration policies can converge into social unrest. As the Spanish government promises citizenship to hundreds of thousands of undocumented migrants annually, tensions are only likely to rise unless comprehensive, humane solutions are found.
What happened in Torre Pacheco could happen elsewhere. The town’s experience is a warning: ignoring the complex realities of immigration and integration risks fueling the very extremism and conflict that societies seek to avoid.
