Cover photo: November 5, 2022 : A survivor gazes at the Sicilian coast from the ship after over 15 days awaiting a Place of Safety. Despite 21 requests to the Italian Government, only some were allowed to disembark. The rest, deemed “too healthy” by USMAF (Maritime Health Office), were left behind for four more days.©Max Cavallari
In December, the European Border and Coast Guard Agency, also known as Frontex, stated that the number of people crossing borders without documents fell by 40%: 220,7000 people had entered Europe in 2024 before December, compared to a total of 380,000 over the previous year. But while the number of people arriving decreased, UNHCR reported that the mortality during travels rose significantly due to conditions becoming harder. The same happened with the political debate: the narrative around these people and the policies administrating their lives have gotten harsher and more violent. Those who try to cross borders are likely to end up detained in inhuman conditions, like in Samos or Lampedusa, or deported against their will. The word migration is always paired with other words such as crisis, emergency, or issue. Since migration itself is not a recent phenomenon but one that predates modern borders and nation-states, we should recognize that today’s portrayal of migration as a security threat serves a specific agenda. It reinforces the interests of the ruling class, who benefit from the economic contributions of migrants but seek to maintain control through a narrative of “us versus them.”
Today, the term “migration crisis” is a tool used to maintain the status quo, particularly in Europe: by framing migration as an emergency to be policed, the ruling class, which often benefits from the labor of migrant workers, can keep the focus on “managing” migrants rather than addressing the root causes of migration. This includes wealth disparities, historical injustices, and the legacies of colonialism. By constantly presenting migration as a problem to be solved through border enforcement and containment, governments can justify increasingly militarized territories and exploitative labor practices. Also, “left” parties across Europe have been pushing this narrative; we’ve seen this happening in the UK, Germany, and Italy. The pretext for these political forces is to defend working-class interests against the alleged chaos and economic disadvantages that might unfold if unrestricted migration to Europe became the rule. Migration is depicted as a class conflict in which the movement of people is detrimental for both the local and migrant working classes. However, their idea is not to unite against the ruling class but to ensure border security and harsh punishments for “illegal people”. The governments leverage a public opinion that tends to overestimate migrant numbers and base their idea on stereotypes: either a criminal, a terrorist, or a humanitarian case, that earned our comprehension through sacrifice.
The reality of what people are living is difficult to grasp since their voices are so rare to find. We aim to contribute to a shift of perspective, centering people’s experiences and points of view. In this issue, we highlight the often-overlooked stories of migrant women, primarily employed in the domestic care sector or as cleaners. In countries like Italy and Spain, migrant women are disproportionately represented in these jobs, yet, their rights remain poorly protected. Most of them provide essential services—caring for children, elderly people, and cleaning homes—yet they are often subjected to low pay, lack of legal protections, and even abuse; we need to question the societal structures that perpetuate such exploitation. The capitalist economy thrives on cheap, flexible labor, often supplied by migrants deemed “disposable.” This system benefits the wealthier classes, who can pay for cheap labor while maintaining an illusion of economic stability. It also serves to keep the working classes—often local and white—divided from the migrant labor force, portraying the latter as a threat to their jobs. If we want to solve the problems surrounding migration, we must look beyond the borders and examine the economic structures that perpetuate inequality.
Another story featured in this issue explores the phenomenon of small-scale trade across the Mediterranean, a modern-day version of an ancient practice. In Palermo, Sicily, many Tunisian immigrants who lost their jobs during the economic crisis turned to a centuries-old trade: loading their cars with second-hand goods, crossing the Mediterranean by ferry, and selling them in Tunisia. This small-scale trade, carried out by ordinary people, revived an ancient economic network that once connected Sicily to Tunisia and the wider Mediterranean world. It’s a powerful example of how migration is not just a response to the crisis but an adaptive, innovative response to the shifting economic and political landscape.
The small traders who board ferries between Palermo and Tunis are not just individuals trying to survive—they are continuing a history of trade and cultural exchange that stretches back millennia. Their actions challenge the portrayal of migrants as passive victims or threats to be contained. These traders are active participants in both local and global economies, and their trade represents an alternative narrative—one that highlights the resilience and resourcefulness of migrants rather than their victimhood.
Yet, their businesses are not without obstacles. They face numerous challenges, including bureaucratic red tape, the rising cost of travel, and an increasingly hostile environment in Europe that seeks to shut down informal trade routes. Instead of fostering connections across the Mediterranean, Europe increasingly erects barriers, even as migrants continue to find new ways to survive and create opportunities. In this context, we want to reflect on the ongoing humanitarian crisis in the Mediterranean, where thousands of people continue to die while attempting to cross into Europe. Organizations like Mediterranea, which rescues people from drowning in the Mediterranean, serve as a stark reminder of the human toll of Europe’s migration policies. The Mediterranean, once a space of cultural and economic exchange, has become a graveyard for migrants who are denied the opportunity to seek refuge.
Migration is not an emergency; it is a reality we must learn to live with. As we explore the experiences of migrant women, small traders, and those who risk their lives in the Mediterranean, or many others we wish to cover in the future; we must ask ourselves: how can we move beyond the rhetoric of crisis and build a world where migration is seen not as a threat, but as an opportunity for exchange, growth, and solidarity?
