WHEN GOVERNMENT GOES SILENT

The Abandonment of Marine Veteran Zuleyka Morales Rivera and Puerto Rico’s Leadership Crisis

By Dr. Wil Rodríguez

TOCSIN Magazine

October 8, 2025

In the early hours of October 2, 2025, as the Mediterranean sun rose over international waters, Israeli naval forces descended upon a humanitarian flotilla bound for Gaza. Among the activists, parliamentarians, and aid workers intercepted that morning was Zuleyka “Mo” Morales Rivera—a Puerto Rican veteran of the United States Marine Corps, carrying food and medical supplies to a besieged population. Within days, her family would report that she had been tortured during detention.

The response from Puerto Rico’s government, led by Governor Jennifer González Colón, was deafening in its silence.

This is not simply a story about one veteran’s ordeal. It is an unflinching examination of governmental abandonment, political cowardice, and the widening chasm between Puerto Rico’s leadership and the people it purports to serve. It is about what happens when rhetoric meets reality—and reality is left standing alone.

THE MARINE WHO WENT TO SEA

Zuleyka Morales Rivera embodies a particular kind of Puerto Rican courage—the kind that has sent islanders into military service at rates that often exceed the mainland United States. A Marine Corps veteran, she had already answered her country’s call once. In October 2025, she answered a different call: the call of humanitarian conscience.

The Global Sumud Flotilla represented more than forty vessels carrying food, medical supplies, and essential aid to Gaza, where a humanitarian crisis had reached catastrophic proportions. Alongside her sailed members of European parliaments, human rights lawyers, and activists including Swedish climate advocate Greta Thunberg and former Barcelona mayor Ada Colau. Morales Rivera traveled on a vessel specifically designated for U.S. military veterans—women and men who understood service, sacrifice, and the cost of standing for principle.

For approximately one month, these vessels navigated toward Gaza, monitored by international observers and media, their mission clear and their purpose humanitarian. They were not smuggling weapons. They were not running drugs. They were carrying the most threatening contraband of all: food for hungry people and medicine for the sick.

On October 2, Israeli forces intercepted the flotilla in international waters. What followed would expose not only the risks of humanitarian activism but also the moral bankruptcy of Puerto Rico’s current political leadership.

ARREST, DETENTION, AND ALLEGATIONS OF TORTURE

The facts, as reported by multiple sources including El Nuevo Día and international media outlets, paint a disturbing picture. Israeli military forces boarded the flotilla vessels, arrested participants, and began the process of detention and deportation. Among those detained was Morales Rivera.

According to statements released by the organization Mothers Against War (Madres contra la Guerra), Morales Rivera was tortured during her detention by Israeli authorities. The organization, along with her family, publicly denounced the treatment she received and demanded governmental intervention from Puerto Rico.

By October 6, approximately four days after her initial detention, Morales Rivera was released. Other flotilla participants, including Thunberg, were similarly detained and deported. The international community responded with statements, condemnations, and diplomatic inquiries.

Puerto Rico’s government said nothing.

Not one press release. Not one public statement. Not one expression of concern for a Puerto Rican veteran detained abroad and allegedly subjected to torture. The silence was absolute, calculated, and inexcusable.

THE DEMAND FOR ACTION THAT WENT UNHEEDED

On October 3, as Morales Rivera remained in detention, Mothers Against War issued a public demand. The organization called upon Puerto Rico’s Secretary of State, Rosachely Rivera Santana, and Governor Jennifer González Colón to “denounce the human rights violations committed by Israel and ensure the integrity and safety of Zuleyka Morales Rivera.”

This was not a radical demand. It was not asking the government to take sides in a complex geopolitical conflict. It was asking for the most basic function of government: to advocate for its own citizens abroad, particularly when those citizens face detention and alleged torture.

The demand went unanswered.

No statement materialized from the governor’s office. No press conference was held. No spokesperson addressed the media. The secretary of state’s office remained equally silent. Puerto Rico’s governmental apparatus, which can mobilize with remarkable speed when political advantage beckons, could not find its voice when a Marine veteran needed it most.

This silence was not an oversight. It was a choice—a deliberate decision that what happened to Zuleyka Morales Rivera did not warrant the attention, concern, or advocacy of her government.

WHAT PUERTO RICANS EXPECTED—AND DESERVED

To understand the depth of this governmental failure, one must understand what reasonable expectations look like when a citizen faces crisis abroad.

First, immediate acknowledgment. When a Puerto Rican—particularly a military veteran—is detained in a foreign country, the government should immediately acknowledge the situation and express concern for the individual’s wellbeing and rights.

Second, diplomatic engagement. While Puerto Rico is not a sovereign nation with independent diplomatic corps, the government has both the capacity and obligation to coordinate with U.S. State Department officials, congressional representatives, and consular services to ensure proper treatment and advocate for the detainee’s rights.

Third, transparent communication. The public deserves to know what their government is doing on behalf of one of their own. Regular updates, clear communication with family members, and honest assessment of the situation are minimum requirements.

Fourth, moral leadership. In moments of crisis, people look to their leaders not just for bureaucratic action but for moral clarity—for someone to say, clearly and unequivocally, “This person is ours, we stand with them, and we will ensure their safety and dignity.”

Fifth, follow-through. If torture allegations emerge, the government must demand investigation, accountability, and transparent reporting. Veterans, in particular, deserve advocacy that extends beyond their active service.

Puerto Ricans expected these basic governmental functions. Instead, they received silence—a void where leadership should have been.

THE GONZÁLEZ COLÓN ADMINISTRATION: A PATTERN EMERGES

Jennifer González Colón assumed the governorship of Puerto Rico on January 2, 2025, bringing with her years of experience as Puerto Rico’s Resident Commissioner in Washington, D.C. Her campaign emphasized her connections, experience, and supposed ability to navigate complex political waters for Puerto Rico’s benefit.

Nine months into her administration, the Morales Rivera case exposes a troubling pattern: the gap between political rhetoric and actual leadership during crisis.

Consider what this silence reveals about priorities. González Colón’s administration can issue press releases celebrating economic development announcements. It can organize photo opportunities and ceremonial events. It can engage in the performative aspects of governance with apparent ease.

But when a Puerto Rican Marine veteran sits in detention, allegedly tortured, the same governmental machinery grinds to a halt. No press release materializes. No statement is crafted. No public concern is expressed.

This is not about partisan politics. This is about fundamental governmental competence and moral obligation. A leader’s true character reveals itself not in moments of political convenience but in moments demanding courage, principle, and potentially uncomfortable stands.

The Morales Rivera case demanded such a moment. The governor’s silence speaks volumes about whether that courage exists.

THE VETERAN QUESTION: RHETORIC VERSUS REALITY

Puerto Rico has a complex and profound relationship with military service. The island has contributed disproportionately to U.S. military forces for generations. Puerto Rican families understand military sacrifice intimately—the deployments, the dangers, the physical and psychological costs of service.

Politicians understand this relationship too. Campaign seasons inevitably feature visits to veteran organizations, speeches praising military service, promises of improved veterans’ services, and photo opportunities with men and women in uniform.

Jennifer González Colón’s political career has included such moments. Like virtually every Puerto Rican politician, she has positioned herself as a supporter of veterans, an advocate for improved services, and a voice for those who served.

The Morales Rivera case tests whether such support extends beyond political convenience.

When a veteran needs governmental advocacy—not at a campaign rally but in a detention facility, not for a photo but for protection—where is that support? When torture allegations emerge, where is the outrage? When a Marine who served her country embarks on a humanitarian mission and faces detention as a result, where is the governmental voice declaring that her service, her sacrifice, and her human rights matter?

The absence of that voice is not merely a political failure. It is a betrayal of the covenant between government and those who serve in uniform.

Veterans watching this case unfold must ask themselves uncomfortable questions: Does their service matter to their government only when it’s politically useful? Will their government advocate for them when doing so might be complicated or controversial? Or is governmental support conditional—present for ceremonies but absent in crisis?

The González Colón administration’s silence provides a troubling answer to these questions.

THE BROADER CRITIQUE: LEADERSHIP IN CRISIS

The Morales Rivera case exists within a broader context of criticism directed at the González Colón administration. While any new government faces challenges and criticism, certain patterns have emerged that merit examination.

Crisis Response Inadequacy

Multiple observers have noted what appears to be a concerning pattern: slow or absent responses to urgent situations requiring immediate governmental attention. Whether dealing with infrastructure crises, public health concerns, or individual cases like Morales Rivera’s, the administration has faced criticism for response times and the adequacy of action taken.

Crisis management is perhaps the most critical test of governmental competence. Citizens can disagree about policy priorities, budget allocations, or long-term development strategies. But when crisis strikes—whether natural disaster, public emergency, or individual citizen in danger abroad—government must respond with speed, clarity, and effectiveness.

The perception, increasingly common among Puerto Rican civil society, is that this administration struggles with crisis response. The Morales Rivera case reinforces that perception dramatically.

Communication Failures

Related to crisis response inadequacy is what many perceive as a broader communication problem within the administration. Transparency, regular public communication, and clear explanations of governmental action (or inaction) are fundamental to democratic governance.

Critics argue that the González Colón administration has demonstrated a troubling pattern of limited communication during critical moments. When the public demands answers, explanations, or simply acknowledgment of serious issues, the response is often delayed, inadequate, or absent entirely.

The complete absence of any public statement regarding Morales Rivera’s detention and alleged torture exemplifies this communication failure at its most extreme. Not a single word—no explanation for silence, no acknowledgment of the situation, nothing.

In democratic societies, citizens deserve to know what their government is doing and why. Silence is not just bad communications strategy; it is a failure of democratic accountability.

The Colonial Question

Puerto Rico’s status as a U.S. territory creates unique governmental challenges. The island is neither independent nation nor U.S. state, existing instead in a constitutional limbo that affects everything from economic policy to disaster response to diplomatic representation.

Some critics have argued that the González Colón administration, despite campaigning on strong connections to Washington and effective advocacy for Puerto Rico, has demonstrated insufficient backbone in standing up for Puerto Rican interests when they conflict with mainland political dynamics.

The Morales Rivera case potentially intersects with this critique. Israel receives substantial U.S. governmental and military support. Taking a public stance on behalf of a Puerto Rican citizen detained by Israeli forces—particularly one participating in a politically contentious humanitarian mission to Gaza—could theoretically create uncomfortable dynamics with certain sectors of U.S. political establishment.

If this political calculation influenced the decision to remain silent, it represents a particularly troubling prioritization: political convenience over citizen advocacy, Washington relationships over Puerto Rican rights.

The governor’s office has offered no explanation for its silence, so one cannot definitively state motivations. But the absence of any statement—even a carefully worded expression of concern that avoids taking sides in broader Israeli-Palestinian dynamics—raises legitimate questions about whether political considerations trumped basic governmental obligations.

COMPARATIVE FAILURE: HOW OTHER GOVERNMENTS RESPONDED

To fully understand Puerto Rico’s governmental failure in this case, it is instructive to examine how other governments whose citizens participated in the flotilla responded.

European parliamentary members issued statements condemning the interception and supporting their colleagues who participated. Swedish officials commented on Greta Thunberg’s detention and deportation. Barcelona’s political establishment publicly supported former mayor Ada Colau’s participation in the humanitarian mission.

These responses varied in their political positioning and level of engagement with the broader Israeli-Palestinian conflict. But they shared one common element: acknowledgment. These governments acknowledged their citizens’ participation, expressed concern for their treatment, and made clear that governmental attention was focused on the situation.

Some of these governments face their own complex relationships with Israel and navigate their own political considerations around Middle Eastern conflicts. Yet they managed to fulfill basic governmental obligations to their citizens.

Puerto Rico could have done the same. A statement expressing concern for Morales Rivera’s wellbeing, noting her status as a veteran, calling for transparent treatment and respect for her rights, and monitoring the situation would have fulfilled minimum governmental obligations without necessarily taking sides in broader geopolitical conflicts.

Instead, Puerto Rico chose silence—a choice that compares unfavorably to how other governments handled similar situations with their own citizens.

WHAT THIS MEANS FOR PUERTO RICO’S FUTURE

The Zuleyka Morales Rivera case will eventually fade from immediate public attention. Other crises will emerge. Political news cycles will move forward. But the implications of this governmental failure extend beyond one case and one moment in time.

Erosion of Public Trust

Every governmental failure to fulfill basic obligations erodes public trust. When citizens see their government unable or unwilling to advocate for one of their own—particularly a military veteran facing alleged torture—they reasonably question whether that government will be there for them when they face crisis.

Trust in governmental institutions is not infinite. It must be earned, maintained, and protected. The González Colón administration’s silence in this case represents a withdrawal from that public trust account—a withdrawal that will have consequences beyond this single incident.

The Veteran Community

Puerto Rico’s veteran community is substantial, politically engaged, and deeply connected to broader Puerto Rican society through family and community ties. How this community interprets the Morales Rivera case will have lasting implications.

If veterans conclude that their government’s support is conditional—present for ceremonies but absent in crisis—that conclusion will affect everything from military recruitment to political engagement to community relationships with governmental institutions.

The message sent by silence is clear: your service matters when it’s politically convenient, but don’t expect advocacy when supporting you might be complicated.

This is a devastating message to send to any veteran community, but particularly to Puerto Rico’s, which has contributed so substantially to U.S. military forces for so long.

Political Consequences

While this analysis focuses on governmental competence and moral obligations rather than electoral politics, it would be naive to ignore potential political consequences of this case.

Voters remember governmental failures during crisis. They remember when their leaders stood up for them and when those leaders went silent. The Morales Rivera case provides a clear example of crisis response failure that political opponents will certainly reference.

More importantly, it contributes to a broader narrative about the González Colón administration’s capacity for leadership during challenging moments—a narrative that transcends any single incident but gains power with each example of inadequate response.

The Accountability Deficit

Perhaps most troubling is what this case reveals about governmental accountability—or the lack thereof. To date, no explanation has been provided for the silence. No official has addressed why no statement was made, why no advocacy was attempted, why a detained and allegedly tortured veteran received no public support from her government.

This absence of accountability is itself a crisis. In democratic societies, governments must answer for their actions and inactions. Citizens have the right to understand why their government made certain choices—or in this case, why it made the choice to remain silent when action was demanded.

The failure to provide any accounting for this silence suggests a broader accountability problem within the administration. If the government need not explain its failures, what check exists on future failures? What incentive exists to do better next time?

THE HUMAN COST

Behind the political analysis, governmental critique, and examination of leadership failures is a human being: Zuleyka Morales Rivera, a Marine veteran who served her country, who felt called to humanitarian service, and who faced detention and alleged torture while her government remained silent.

One can only imagine what that silence communicated to her. In detention, perhaps wondering if anyone was advocating for her, if her government cared about what was happening to her, if her service and sacrifice meant anything when she needed support—and hearing nothing.

For her family, watching from Puerto Rico, the silence must have been equally devastating. Knowing their loved one was detained, allegedly tortured, and receiving no public support or acknowledgment from the government that should stand with her.

For other Puerto Ricans considering humanitarian work, military service, or any form of public service requiring personal risk, the message is chilling: you’re on your own. Your government might not be there when you need it most.

This human cost cannot be quantified in political analysis or measured in policy critiques. But it is real, profound, and lasting.

WHAT SHOULD HAPPEN NOW

While this article focuses on analyzing what occurred rather than prescribing political outcomes, certain minimal steps seem both obvious and necessary.

First, acknowledgment and explanation. Governor González Colón should publicly acknowledge the Morales Rivera case and explain why her administration remained silent. Puerto Ricans deserve this basic accounting.

Second, direct advocacy. Even belatedly, the governor should reach out to Morales Rivera, express governmental concern for what she experienced, and offer support including investigation of torture allegations.

Third, policy review. The administration should review its protocols for responding when Puerto Ricans face crisis abroad, ensuring that future cases receive appropriate governmental attention and advocacy.

Fourth, veteran affairs assessment. A broader examination of how the administration supports veterans—beyond rhetoric and ceremonies—should be undertaken, with specific attention to advocacy and crisis response.

Fifth, accountability. If governmental failures occurred—whether in communication, decision-making, or priority-setting—those responsible should be held accountable, and changes should be implemented to prevent similar failures.

None of these steps are radical. None require dramatic policy shifts or political realignment. They simply require acknowledgment of failure, commitment to doing better, and follow-through on governmental obligations.

Whether the González Colón administration will take these steps remains to be seen. The silence that has characterized its response thus far does not inspire confidence.

THE LARGER QUESTIONS

The Zuleyka Morales Rivera case forces us to confront uncomfortable questions about governance, leadership, and priorities in Puerto Rico.

What does leadership mean? Is it simply the holding of office, the issuing of press releases about convenient topics, the attendance at ceremonial events? Or does it require courage to stand up for citizens even when doing so might be politically complicated?

What obligations does government owe its citizens? Are these obligations absolute, or do they become negotiable when fulfilling them might create uncomfortable political dynamics?

What does it mean to support veterans? Is support measured in speeches and photo opportunities, or in actual advocacy when veterans face crisis?

How much silence can democracy sustain? When governments fail to explain their actions and inactions, when accountability seems optional, when citizens’ demands for answers go unmet—what happens to democratic governance itself?

What values guide Puerto Rican leadership? When faced with a choice between political convenience and citizen advocacy, which path do leaders choose—and what does that choice reveal about their values?

These are not abstract philosophical questions. They are urgent inquiries into the nature of governance in Puerto Rico right now, under this administration, in this moment.

The Morales Rivera case provides clear, troubling answers to these questions—answers that should concern anyone who cares about effective, moral, accountable governance.

CONCLUSION: THE SOUND OF SILENCE

On October 2, 2025, Zuleyka Morales Rivera was detained while participating in a humanitarian mission. Her family reports she was tortured. Civil society organizations demanded governmental response. The people of Puerto Rico waited to hear from their leaders.

The silence was absolute.

This silence was not passive—an accidental oversight or bureaucratic delay. It was active—a deliberate choice by the González Colón administration to say nothing, do nothing publicly, and offer no advocacy for a Puerto Rican Marine veteran facing alleged torture abroad.

In that silence lives a truth about this administration’s priorities, values, and conception of governmental obligation. It is a truth that speaks more loudly than any press release or speech could.

When a government will not stand up for a detained and allegedly tortured veteran, one must ask: who will it stand up for? What crisis would be serious enough to merit response? What citizen’s situation would warrant breaking the silence?

These questions haunt Puerto Rico as the González Colón administration continues its governance. They will not be answered by press releases or political rhetoric. They will be answered—or not answered—by action or inaction in future moments of crisis, when citizens need their government most.

Zuleyka Morales Rivera went to sea carrying food for hungry people and medicine for the sick. She served her country in uniform and then served her conscience through humanitarian action. When she faced detention and alleged torture, her government abandoned her to silence.

That silence echoes across Puerto Rico, a damning testimony to leadership’s absence when courage was required.

The sound of that silence is the sound of governmental failure, moral bankruptcy, and the betrayal of every Puerto Rican who serves, sacrifices, and expects their government to stand with them when standing is hardest.

History will remember not what was said in this moment, but what was not said—and what that silence revealed about those who chose it.

Dr. Wil Rodríguez is a contributing writer for TOCSIN Magazine, focusing on human transformation, political accountability, social justice, and governmental transparency in Puerto Rico and beyond.

TOCSIN Magazine is committed to investigative journalism that holds power accountable and gives voice to those too often ignored by official institutions. This article reflects extensive research and analysis of publicly available information, statements from civil society organizations, and governmental (in)action.

Note: The governor’s office was contacted for comment on this article but did not respond by publication time—a silence that is, by now, entirely consistent with its handling of this case.

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Reflection Box — By Dr. Wil Rodríguez

Moments like these test the covenant between a people and their institutions. I wrote this piece not to inflame, but to illuminate: silence is never neutral when a citizen’s dignity is at stake. Puerto Rico deserves leaders who act swiftly, speak plainly, and choose conscience over convenience—especially for those who have already chosen service over self. Let this be a call to rebuild public trust through truth-telling, accountability, and care for every Puerto Rican whose courage places them in harm’s way.

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