The Stark Contrast of Youth Engagement in Morocco
While I was concluding my article titled "The Past Chooses the Future," published yesterday, hundreds of Moroccan youth were plunging into the sea, attempting to swim to the occupied city of Ceuta. The electoral rolls reveal a striking disparity: nearly five million registered voters are over the age of sixty, while fewer than half a million young individuals aged between 18 and 24 are registered. This stark contrast underscores a troubling reality, where the demographic absent from the electoral process is the same group heavily represented in one of the most perilous waves of mass migration witnessed in the region in recent years.
In a particularly heartbreaking scene, a woman ventured into the sea with her three children, striving to reach Ceuta. They were rescued by the Moroccan Royal Navy just as they were on the verge of drowning. This moment encapsulates the grim reality of migration, which has evolved from merely being an adventure for young individuals daring to challenge the sea, to a family decision where parents take their young children into the water, driven by the belief that what awaits them on the other side is less perilous than what they have left behind.
On a single day, Spanish sources estimated that more than five hundred individuals were rescued by both Moroccan and Spanish authorities. By seven in the morning, the Moroccan Navy had intercepted around three hundred swimmers, while the Spanish Civil Guard rescued over a hundred more, with others managing to arrive unnoticed by patrols. Over the course of a week, more than a thousand individuals succeeded in reaching Ceuta by swimming from its border waters. The pressure on the temporary accommodation center for migrants, which has a capacity of only 512 beds, reached critical levels, forcing dozens of new arrivals to sleep on the streets and set up makeshift camps nearby.
A Crisis of Hope and Belonging
However, numerical statistics do not tell the whole story. Behind each figure, there lies a name, a face, and a phone that rings unanswered. Haytham, aged 19, was last seen in Fnideq, planning to swim across that night. Ahmed, 17, and his brother Abdullah, 18, left with their friend Hamza, leaving their phones behind. Osman, who is twenty, traveled from Qal'at al-Sraghna to Fnideq to attempt the swim to Ceuta. Two minors from Chefchaouen, Mohamed K. and Mohamed A., donned diving suits and disappeared into the sea. Omar B., aged 17, went down at night with two friends and never returned.
Reports indicate that more than two hundred attempts are recorded each night, with four individuals drowning over one weekend, bringing the total number of bodies found along these shores since the beginning of the year to 27, alongside dozens of missing persons whose families remain unaware if they have reached safety, been detained, or are still lost at sea.
Despite the grim circumstances, some who made it to shore celebrated their arrival. Exhausted from the water, they raised their hands and smiled for the cameras, as if they had crossed the finish line of an Olympic race. Their bodies trembled from the cold, yet their joy was palpable; they did not perceive Ceuta as an occupied territory to be reclaimed, but rather as a European land to be reached. This presents the most painful paradox. We teach our children that Ceuta is part of our homeland, only to see them celebrate their exit from it. We discuss sovereignty, while they view the other side as salvation. We tell them the city is occupied, yet they treat it as a gateway to freedom. Meanwhile, we prepare for elections intended to shape the nation’s future, while a segment of its youth chooses to swim away from it.
The issue does not stem from a lack of love for Morocco among these youths. Many of them wrapped themselves in the national flag, cheered its name during football matches, and took to the streets months ago demanding reform. The real problem is that they no longer see a contradiction between loving their country and wishing to escape from it. This represents the most dangerous state of affairs regarding a generation’s relationship with its homeland.
The youth risking drowning are not necessarily ungrateful or lacking in belonging; rather, they are the same individuals who, once their status is regularized, will defend their country and send financial aid back to Moroccan banks. They may have come to the realization that belonging does not guarantee them a place in university, a job, dignity, or the ability to build an independent life. They are not always fleeing hunger but are escaping a sense of hopelessness that looms before them.
Indeed, Spanish reports have pointed to insufficient monitoring, with young individuals evading soldiers, easily bypassing barriers, and calls for stricter measures on the beaches. However, the sea does not fill with hundreds of bodies merely because the metal barrier is low, but because the social barrier within the country is excessively high.
While those apprehended can be transported to southern cities, and while beaches can be cleared with enhanced security measures, these actions do not answer the question that propelled them from Qal'at al-Sraghna to Fnideq: Why has death become an acceptable risk compared to remaining behind?
It is possible that the recent ruling by the Spanish Supreme Court, which restricted immediate returns for those who swim across, has contributed to creating a new 'pull effect.' Additionally, favorable sea conditions during summer may have made the attempt seem easier, and the images of survivors on social media may have encouraged others. Yet, all these factors explain timing rather than the profound willingness of thousands of youth to take risks.
The issue extends beyond mere border crises; it is a crisis of vision. This crisis manifests today in two simultaneous images: a youth absent from the electoral rolls and present in the waves of the sea. What can political parties say as they approach the elections on September 23? Will they ask these young individuals to trust their programs after being absent from the rolls? Will they treat them as a mere mass to be convinced in the final weeks? Can a candidate who spends years building a network of supporters truly understand a young person who spends an entire night swimming to avoid living under their authority?
Months ago, Moroccan youth took to the streets in a remarkably peaceful and dignified manner, demanding justice, fairness, and opportunities for a decent life. They were told that institutions would listen, that dialogue was possible, and that reform required time. Today, some respond in their own way: they feel they have no time left.
Those who reached Ceuta did not necessarily achieve the dream of migration. Many found themselves facing overcrowded centers, streets where migrants sleep, obscure procedures, and a future that may turn out to be harsher than imagined. However, they accomplished another significant realization: they proved to themselves that they could escape from a place that seemed unwilling to accept them. This is a testament to collective failure—a failure of family, education, the economy, politics, and media to convince an entire generation that the future can be forged here. It is a failure of political parties to channel their anger into participation, a failure of the state to transform their patriotism into trust, and a failure of the elite to interpret the prolonged silence preceding the leap into the sea.
We are not required to view these individuals as heroes, nor should we romanticize irregular migration into an epic narrative. The sea has claimed four of them in just a few days, and it has swallowed others whose families are still searching for them. However, it is also unacceptable to regard them merely as lawbreakers to be intercepted and removed from the beaches. They are a mirror reflecting the face of a country poised to choose its future through lists dominated by the past, while its future swims far from it.
As reported by thevoice.ma.
