The Youth Who Arrive Alone: ​​Narratives and the Dehumanization of Migrant Minors in the Canary Islands

The Youth Who Arrive Alone: Narratives and the Dehumanization of Migrant Minors in the Canary Islands

Loueila Sid Ahmed

Jun, 2025

MUSIC:

Increasingly, young Africans are arriving alone on Spanish shores. This phenomenon is being widely covered by the media, though mainly from a dehumanising perspective. What mainstream outlets emphasise the most about this humanitarian crisis is its figures: the number of minors arriving illegally in Spain. These numbers are often stripped of context and serve to convey a negative model of migration—grounded in rejection of foreigners and in the ideal of “zero migration,” and aimed at reducing, controlling, or even eliminating migratory flows Or, at the very least, denying them as a concept.

The media speak of numbers instead of telling us that some of these young foreigners have travelled over 8,000 kilometres, embarking on whatever means they can to survive one of the deadliest migratory routes of the modern world. Highly volatile, the so-called “Atlantic route” runs along the Western coast of the African continent to the Canary Islands—the most remote outpost of Europe’s southern border. From Tarfaya or Laayoune, the journey to the archipelago is a 225km battle against a merciless ocean, aboard fragile vessels designed for coastal fishing. The journey from the furthest documented departure points—off the coast of Guinea—can involve more than 1,500km of coastal navigation and a further 500km in open sea, dodging coastal patrols. In other words, weeks of travel in the same kind of boats and inhuman conditions.

Photo_ Irene López

It is not only the media, but also political representatives who constantly speak in numbers to suggest there is a problem with foreign adolescents and young people who arrive in Spanish territory without any adult reference. They weaponise figures to claim the Canary Islands are “overwhelmed” and cannot take in 5,000 unaccompanied minors. And they speak flippantly of a “pull effect,” as though it were the conditions at the destination, rather than those at the point of departure, that motivate tens of thousands to risk their lives. This reasoning, based on the fallacy that a migrant’s success story will attract others as if it were the advert for an all-you-can-eat buffet, stems from that same understanding of migration as a disruptive force threatening the claimed internal tranquillity of the national society

Both media and political leaders insist on talking in numbers because showing the stories and faces of the people who arrive irregularly in this territory would make us empathise with their pain—with who they are, and what compelled them to leave their countries in such unsafe conditions. And then we would likely feel called to act: to organise, to connect, to display solidarity, to demand action from our leaders, and to provide a collective response to the failures of the Administration—as we recently saw in Spain in the wake of the natural disaster caused by the DANA [3][3] Aguirre, A. (2023, septiembre 14). Las redes de solidaridad que surgieron en la pandemia afloran ante la devastadora DANA [The Pandemic Solidarity Networks Sporut Again in the Face of the Devastating DANA Storm]. El Diario. Available here: https://www.eldiario.es/sociedad/redes-solidaridad-surgieron-pandemia-afloran-devastadora-dana_1_11792352.html storm. Civil movements, grassroots activists, and committed citizens managed, in the face of that disaster, to reach communities the Government had not. Could we see the same happen in welcoming young migrants, or tackling the deaths at sea, if we stopped seeing them as mere statistics?

They speak flippantly of a “pull effect,” as though it were the conditions at the destination, rather than those at the point of departure, that motivate tens of thousands to risk their lives.

Talking in numbers serves power, as it allows the authorities to gloss over the fact that exceptionality, provisionality, emergency measures, racism, and lack of political will shape current migration policies. Talking in numbers helps avoid exposing them as discriminatory and racist. But there is a deeper reason still: they speak in numbers because these young people arriving alone are the very “nobodies” the Uruguayan writer Eduardo Galeano once wrote about. “Children of no one, owners of nothing, who have no name, only a number” They speak in numbers, ultimately, to conceal what truly bothers them: the poverty and identity of those arriving alone, and who are brazenly associated with criminality in the Western collective imagination.

This phenomenon, known as crimmigration—a term coined by Stumpf in 2006—is one of the main stigmas these young migrants face in host societies: fear of the foreigner and stereotypes about their dangerousness, which lead to confusion or overlap between immigration law and criminal law [5][5] García España, Elisa (2017). «Extranjeros Sospechosos, Condenados y Excondenados: Un Mosaico de Exclusión» [Foreigners: Suspects, Sentenced and Formerly Sentenced]. Revista Electrónica de Ciencia Penal y Criminología, no. 19. in many developed shelter countries. The perception of immigrants as potential criminals drives states to arm themselves both administratively and punitively against those foreign, deploying legal mechanisms that violate fundamental human rights and basic principles of the legal system itself. This means that, among many other dangerous outcomes of this phenomenon, criminal and administrative law are becoming increasingly intertwined [6].[6] Idem.

Ismail El Majdoubi, from the ExMenas Collective, is one of the youngsters who experienced this stigma and criminalisation first-hand: “In truth, [among migrants] there’s a bit of everything. If you are looking for a criminal, you will find one. If you are looking for a poet, you’ll find one. If you want to find a musician or a footballer, they’re there too,” he states [7],[7] El Majdoubi, I. (2021, marzo 10). [Declarations at «The Double Criminalisation of Unaccompanied Minors»]. El Salto. Disponible aquí: https://www.elsaltodiario.com/ referring to the wide diversity among Maghrebi and West African youths who migrate to Europe and are met with this dehumanising treatment by institutions and the media. The ultimate danger of perceiving and presenting foreigners as “crimmigrants” is that, by means of constant “othering”, atrocities committed against them begin to appear justifiable [8].[8] Fernández, Patuca (2021, febrero). [Declarations at the VIII Roundtable “March for the Dignity of Tarajal” «Marcha por la Dignidad del Tarajal»]. It can even lead to the creation of social contracts in which only “our own” are recognised, and “outsiders” are excluded [9].[9] Bauer, T. y Zimmermann, K. (1996). Dynamic Labor Semand: Natives and Inmigrants. Estrasburgo: ESF Conference.

The Flooding Narrative

Do they really want us to talk numbers? Since the Atlantic route to the Canary Islands became active—accounting for 70% of maritime arrivals to the Spanish state in recent years—some 255,000 displaced people [10][10] Caminando Fronteras. (2023). Informe anual: Derecho a la vida en las fronteras [Annual Report: RIght to Life at the Borders]. Disponible aquí: https://www.caminandofronteras.org/ have reached our shores. That is, over a span of 30 years, 255,000 people from the African continent have arrived irregularly—an average of 8,500 per year, or 709 per month. The registered African population in the Autonomous Community of the Canary Islands represents 5% of the total, comprising 45,000 people out of a population of 2.2 million. This is what the dominant narrative refers to as being “overwhelmed.”

Exceptionality, provisionality, emergency measures, racism, and lack of political will shape current migration policies.

Behind this demagogic discourse hides the notion of a “tolerance threshold,” the level of immigration a country can supposedly bear without putting its own socio-political integrity at risk Once again, this idea is rooted in the rejection of immigration from various angles: economically, immigration is seen as a cost; politically, as a threat; and sociologically, as a source of conflict

This concept of a tolerance threshold has an administrative counterpart in what is often referred to as the “quota ideology” [13].[13] Ruiz de Olabuénaga, J. I. (2000). Inmigrantes, Hostilidad en la sociedad móvil [Migrants, Hostility in the Mobile Society]. Madrid: Acento Editorial. That is, the attempt to ration immigration through social regulation so that the host society can “absorb” these flows without jeopardising its supposed “social order”—one that feels threatened by groups of immigrants, viewed as bearers or creators of social predicaments [14].[14] Meissner, D. y Hormats, R. (1993). International Migration Challenges in a New Era. Nueva York: The Trilateral Commission.

As opposed to that reductionist paradigm dominating the Spanish collective imagination, it must be said that those 5,000 foreign minors we speak of come from over 16 countries, including Senegal, Mali, and Gambia—not just Morocco. Reinforced by media narratives, this fallacy does not align with real figures and is heavy with xenophobic prejudice and stereotypes. And the core problem with the latter is that they do not vanish, even when disproven by factual data: they become, in Rumbout’s 2016 words, “zombie ideas”—refusing to die despite being consistently refuted by empirical evidence [15].[15] García España, Elisa (2017). «Extranjeros Sospechosos, Condenados y Excondenados: Un Mosaico de Exclusión» [Foreigners: Suspects, Sentenced and Formerly Sentenced]. Revista Electrónica de Ciencia Penal y Criminología, no. 19.

Some 93% of these unaccompanied migrant minors are boys, with girls and young women representing just 6.2%. If the journey is harrowing for a young male, the reader can try to imagine what it means for a female. 85.4% of these unaccompanied youth come from West Africa, with Senegal (2,027 minors) and Mali (1,434) as the main countries of origin, followed by Morocco (823), Gambia (543), Guinea (367), and Côte d’Ivoire (157). To a lesser extent, these young migrants also come from Mauritania, Sierra Leone, Congo, Benin, and Pakistan.

These kinds of statistics, however, do not always succeed in dispelling falsehoods and racist narratives, as stereotypes are as rooted in emotion as they are impervious to reality [16].[16] Idem. Just like the “flooding” does not align with actual figures, hatred likewise lacks a statistical foundation: the so-called “replacement theory,” based on the assumption that all unaccompanied minors are Muslims, has a fundamentally racist and anti-Islamic basis, originating in 9/11 and other attacks committed by terrorist groups like Al-Qaeda. The atrocities perpetrated by these extremists laid the rhetorical groundwork for the imposition of securitisation and exceptionality narratives through the scapegoating of migration, thereby dismantling our democratic normality and many of the principles of the rule of law.

Photo_ Irene López

These rhetorical foundations, which continue to shape migratory processes—and their protagonists—to this day, stem from a presumption of suspicion towards immigration, regarded as an undesirable element within society and, as suggested, a potential threat to the way of life of the “native” population. It is a narrative with an unmistakably identitarian character, marked by a paradox: the foreigner, through their “otherness”, helps to reinforce national identity and sense of belonging, which are thus consolidated as a symbolic boundary against those from outside

All of these xenophobic prejudices continue to be exploited today to criminalise the migrant population, and the rise of far-right populist parties has only served to further fuel and spread such discourse. It hardly needs saying, but this masks deep-seated political and economic interests. As long as far-right parties continue to find it easy to capitalise on ethno-nationalist rhetoric in their bid for power, it will remain vital that those of us committed to human rights make every effort to build new narratives that transcend these deceitful conceptual frameworks.

Of Dualisms and Centres of Dehumanisation

45,000 people out of a total of 2.2 million. This is what the dominant narrative refers to as being “overwhelmed”.

Following the war between Russia and Ukraine, and the migratory exodus it triggered, Spain’s Ministry of Inclusion, Social Security and Migration took in 236,000 Ukrainians within two years. “The integration of displaced people has been a priority for the Spanish government,” proudly declared the minister while the media made no suggestion that this represented any kind of threat. In resisting this double standard we are being pushed towards, it is impossible not to question ourselves, “why some and not others?”. If this were achievable for Ukrainian refugees, why not for others who are also displaced? Like the jurisdictional dilemma—the central government’s excuse that the responsibility for accommodating migrant minors lies with Spain’s regional governments—this comparison lays bare the fact that this matter is all about political will.

According to the Ministry, 39,741 Ukrainian students have been enrolled in the Spanish education system. Of these, approximately 5,500 are in Early Childhood Education, 15,500 in Primary School, 9,500 in Secondary School, and over 8,000 in Vocational Training and language learning courses. At a university level, 1,800 students are enrolled in undergraduate, master’s or doctoral programmes. The Canary Islands, meanwhile, host just 5,000 unaccompanied minors. How many of them are not in school? How many have been unable to regularise their administrative status? How many are being held in reception centres that only deepen their dehumanisation?

There are 86 such centres for the reception of minors across seven islands. Theoretically, they are designed as emergency resources, but in practice, they have been rendered permanent. Overcrowded, overwhelmed, and accused of mistreatment, abuse and torture of the people they host [19].[19] González Vargas, Natalia. (2025, 19 mayo). La Justicia cierra un centro con 43 menores migrantes en Gran Canaria víctimas de presuntas torturas y delitos de odio [Courts close a centre with 43 migrant minors victims of alleged torture and hate crimes in Gran Canaria]. Available here: https://www.eldiario.es/canariasahora/tribunales/registro-policial-centro-menores-migrantes-gran-canaria-presuntos-delitos-odio_1_12310637.html These centres are but part of what has been called “hard borders”: the array of control mechanisms acting as the first barriers to migrant integration in the country they arrive in. Indeed, it must be noted that borders are not only physical walls, maritime crossings, or airport controls; they are also the imposed conditions in which to cross them. Temporary Foreign Nationals Reception Centres (CATE), Immigration Detention Centres (CIE), Child Care Centres (CAI), emergency facilities, and general centres for minors are all examples of these hard borders, which ensure that, even before they begin to settle in their host society, migrants are pre-assigned a marginal status [20].[20] Malgesini, G. y Giménez, C. (2000). Guía de conceptos sobre migraciones, racismo e interculturalidad [Conceptual Guide about Migrations, Racism, and Interculturality] Madrid: Catarata.

The core problem with Stereotypes is that they do not vanish, even when disproven by factual data.

Moreover, these centres act as a kind of cork, containing migratory flows on a number of islands which, much like those in the Aegean Sea during the displacement caused by the war in Syria, are not the final destination intended by young migrants. Besides dehumanising minors, these detention/emergency centres hold them in a legal limbo, preventing them from reaching mainland Spain—and, by extension, the rest of Europe. “The right to emigrate has not been fulfilled, nor made concrete, with the right to immigrate,” Michaud once said, pointing to a common contradiction in the migration laws of nation-states: in theory, they enshrine freedom of movement, but in practice, they prohibit migrants from settling. The insular nature of the Canary Islands makes this isolation all the more effective: minors become trapped in these supposedly temporary centres, from which they cannot find a way out. Surrounded by the ocean, stranded in what was meant to be only the first stage of their journey.

Conclusions: The Problem is Poverty

As a lawyer specialised in Immigration and Human Rights, I can state with certainty and first-hand knowledge that the issue with those 5,000 foreign minors who arrived alone in the Canary Islands is not their status as foreigners, but their condition of poverty. That is what makes the presence of these young people, who have no adult to take responsibility for them, appear, or be portrayed, as a threat to the archipelago.

There are things we can enquire about these minors who have travelled over 8,000km, who boarded brittle boats alone, who have survived the Atlantic Ocean faced with hunger, thirst, fear, and cold. What drives these young Africans to risk their lives on a deadly route to another continent? What forms of abuse did they suffer in their countries of origin? Did they have a family? Did they find no opportunities in the places they were born? What must their living conditions have been like for them to decide to leave in such a way?

Photo_ Irene López

Although arrival tipping points tend to occur during seasons with reduced cyclonic activity in the North Atlantic—the final months of the year—the boats are not built to withstand the impact of extreme weather and waves ranging between four and six metres. These are often patched-up vessels, retrofitted to cut costs, and burdened with far more passengers than their original design allows.

They generally do not carry enough fuel for the journey, nor adequate equipment for the days they must spend exposed to water and cold, nor enough food or drinking water. While there are signs of increasing technological improvement, such as GPS navigation devices, the helmsmen are usually not experienced sailors. Thus, in addition to fear, panic attacks, severe seasickness, lack of sleep, and even injuries caused by the waves, it is not uncommon for those travelling in these boats to suffer from malnutrition, sunstroke, burns, dehydration, and hypothermia—the last two of which often result in death.

If the journey is harrowing for a young male, the reader can try to imagine what it means for a female.

A lack of fuel or any mechanical failure can leave a boat adrift, and it is also common for vessels to begin breaking down within days or even hours of departure, due to the battering of the sea and the excessive weight of the cargo. Leaks often appear first, and the passengers must fight to block or bail out enough water to keep afloat. In the worst cases, a cayuco or patera can split apart entirely, be struck by a ship or dragged under by its wake. Sometimes, the overcrowding, the waves, and the sudden movements of passengers can destabilise the vessel to the point of capsizing, not always within sight of coastal patrols. The exhaustion of the migrants and the force of the water make survival chances slim under such conditions, even near the coast or during a rescue operation. On top of the extreme fatigue caused by the travel conditions previously described, it is worth noting that these boats typically carry no life jackets, and many of the migrants lack swimming skills. For all these reasons, the leading documented cause of death on the Atlantic route remains drowning.

We thus return to the central question: what drives these migrant minors to expose themselves to such dangers? The harsh reality is that migrating hundreds of kilometres in the hope of reaching Europe is not a fleeting whim, but an aspiration deeply embedded in the collective imagination of societies, such as those in West Africa, faced with misery and the plundering of their resources. These are societies where environmental degradation and climate destabilisation are compounded by weak modes of production, a dire lack of infrastructure, rampant corruption, and numerous other structural conflicts closely tied to their colonial past, leaving entire generations behind.

There is no fishing, no industry, and the productivity of agricultural labour is collapsing. Most of those who take on the enormous risks of irregular migration as their only escape route from such conditions are fully aware of what they are likely to face—just as most of those repatriated intend to attempt the journey a second time. The key to understanding what compels these young people to migrate, even as minors and without any accompanying family or adult, lies in acknowledging the persecution they are fleeing, the violence of civil and ethnic conflicts, hunger, and the confinement of refugee camps. In most cases, migration is not simply a hope for a better life—it is a response to the most primal instinct of all: survival.

Hatred lacks a statistical foundation.

The explanation is perfectly clear: migration does not decrease so long as the advantages of leaving one’s country outweigh the advantages of staying This is another empirically proven reality, which also undermines the rhetoric that investment in countries of origin, in and of itself, helps curb migration. Quite the opposite, in fact: it has been demonstrated that the development of countries and societies leads to greater emigration, owing to improved financial and social means to undertake the journey, which in turn contributes to that same development through remittances sent by migrants already settled in host societies

In short, migration will not stop, regardless of how many migration/population control practices and policies are implemented. Starting from this premise, it becomes clear that the negative ideology surrounding immigration—framing it as a security issue—serves as a justification for the tightening of migratory policies and the growing rigidity of border controls. The discourse of “migratory pressure,” as analysed in this article, conceals a collective, unfounded ethnocentric bias that relies on the same rhetorical mechanisms as securitisation: through the demonisation of migrants, public authorities secure popular approval to override the rule of law in the name of public safety. It is for this reason that “crimmigration” and the rhetoric of a migratory invasion represent extremely dangerous tools in the hands of political parties and opinion-makers alike.

We must not forget that understanding immigration as a cultural and social threat turns young migrants into scapegoats—seemingly necessary ones—for a society plagued by crisis, uncertainty, and fear of the future [23].[23] Ruiz de Olabuénaga, J. I. (2000). Inmigrantes, Hostilidad en la sociedad móvil [Immigrants, Hostility in the Mobile Society] Madrid: Acento Editorial. To dismantle this view of migration as a potential threat to the collective cultural security of host societies, we must work to transform the narratives around the “youth who arrive alone.” And to do so, we must appeal not only to empathy and compassion, but also to our shared responsibility as fellow humans.

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