Morocco: Hopelessness and social media drive youth to risk their lives to reach Europe

Hamza* (26) uses his phone to scroll through Instagram pictures of childhood friends who embarked on a hazardous journey to Spain in September. Around him, surfers exhausted from the waves are strolling through the hotel garden towards the surf shop where he works in Imsouane, southern Morocco.

“Even if my childhood friends could have died during their journey to Spain, they believed it was worth the risk,” Hamza tells Middle East Eye while watching the glittering sea stretching out in front of the lavish boutique hotel filled with mostly young European surfers.

“Over the past years, the boys I grew up with have found themselves lost, spiralling down into poverty,” the young man adds.

Hamza recalls September’s mass migration attempt, when around 4,000 young Moroccans and some Sub-Saharan Africans attempted to cross the border into the Spanish enclave of Ceuta.

Six of his childhood friends were among those trying to reach Europe for a better future on that day.

The young men travelled for more than 500km towards Belyounech, a border town close to the Spanish enclave, after messages calling for a mass mobilisation to enter Ceuta illegally circulated on social media.

The Spanish enclave on the Mediterranean coast, together with Melilla, share the only land borders of the European Union with Africa and have sporadically experienced waves of attempted crossings.

According to the Moroccan authorities, 3,000 people from different Moroccan towns were caught storming the border fence on 15 September.

Moroccan authorities arrested around 60 people suspected of having participated in organising the initiative, while some accused Algerian activists of being involved, which was denied by Algeria's press.

Images and videos circulating online sparked accusations of abuse by Moroccan law enforcement. The allegations were denied by officials, but the public prosecutor of Tetouan ordered an investigation into the authenticity of the footage.

‘Wasting their life in Morocco’

Unlike the hundreds of people who were sent back, Hamza’s friends were among the few who made it into the Spanish enclave.

“I don’t know how my friends are doing. They won’t tell much, probably because they are afraid of getting noticed by the authorities,” he says.

This is not the first time that the young man's childhood friends attempted the crossing to Europe.

In December 2023, 17 young people from Hamza’s hometown, El Jadida, a port city on the Atlantic coast close to Casablanca, also embarked on a perilous journey to Spain, but that time, they crossed by boat to the Spanish mainland.  

On his phone Hamza shows a message from one of those friends, who is now living in the Iberian Peninsula.

“This is his most recent post on Instagram. He looks like he is on vacation, but I know he is having a hard time in Spain,” he says.

The video posted by Hamza’s friend, a football player, shows him having a drink on a sunny terrace near the beach while cheerful music plays in the background.

“He has talent and hopes to find opportunities in Spain, but for now, all the clubs are denying him because he doesn’t have legal papers,” Hamza tells MEE.

The young man, dressed in stylish clothes that match the surf vibe of the hotel, expresses mixed feelings about the future of his six friends now stuck in Ceuta. 

With a relatively good salary, educated parents and a master’s degree in geology, Hamza has never thought of illegally migrating to Europe, but he understands why his friends did.

“They see on social media how people live in Europe,” he says. “Some of them feel they are just wasting their life in Morocco. Perhaps this will be a new chance for them.” 

Harraga 2.0

The events in Ceuta have been associated with a viral movement on social media, involving young people sharing their migration dream and journey on platforms such as TikTok and Instagram.

The posts always include the word “harraga”, a term derived from North African dialects meaning “those who burn” their ID to migrate clandestinely without being identifiable.

‘I had never seen anything like this. The events in September marked a new phase for Morocco in terms of migration’ 

- Ali Zoubeidi, migration expert

“When messages started spreading on the internet calling for migrants to mobilise, I thought it was a joke, but it wasn’t,” Ali Zoubeidi, a Moroccan consultant on migration issues and researcher, tells MEE.

Zoubeidi conducted a field study during the September incident, speaking to people who had gathered along the border with Ceuta.

“I had never seen anything like this. The events in September marked a new phase for Morocco in terms of migration.” 

According to him, the context was very different than for the mass migration attempt of 2021, when more than 8,000 people tried to cross the border, either climbing over the walls or swimming from Moroccan beaches into Ceuta.

At the time, Spain accused Moroccan authorities of sending people to storm the border following a political dispute with Madrid concerning the thorny issue of the Western Sahara.

This September, on the other hand, saw young Moroccans mobilising on their own through social media, and without the intervention of smugglers.

While past attempts had mostly been carried out by people from Sub-Saharan countries, Moroccans made up the bulk of would-be migrants three months ago.

The profiles of a many of them also differed from the classic migration candidates, Zoubeidi explains.

“Standard profiles are Moroccan minors who spend many years in the street and don’t have jobs or family support. But in September we also saw some Moroccans with professional careers and a relatively high monthly salary of 4000/5000 dirhams [around $450],” he says.

According to Zoubeidi, hopelessness and dissatisfaction are their main motivations.

Sharp contrast

Those are the very reasons that make leaving the kingdom a major dream of the residents in Hamza’s hometown.

“That’s all young people talk about,” says Hamza. 

Scrolling further down his phone, he shows posts celebrating those who made it to the other side of the border.

“Some of them have been working for years to pay the smugglers to enter Spain,” he adds. 

One of Hamza’s friends joins the conversation. “I know people who trained for months to be fit and able to swim the seven kilometres separating the kingdom from Ceuta,” he says.

Those who managed to migrate to Europe are very active on social media, where footage of parties follows selfies in front of historical monuments.

Hamza, however, is aware that there is a sharp contrast between reality and social media depictions of his friends’ lives.

‘We see everyone is living their best life. They don’t post when they are sleeping on the street’

- Hamza, whose friends migrated to Europe

“We see everyone is living their best life. They don’t post when they are sleeping on the street.”

The youth of the M'diq-Fnideq province bordering Ceuta share the migration dream seemingly accessible on their doorstep. Moroccans living in the Tanger-Tetouan region represent a significant portion of those attempting to leave the kingdom. 

Residents there have been hard hit by border policies that restricted trade and inter-border employment after the Covid-19 pandemic and later diplomatic spats with Spain.

These temporary policies ended up becoming the new reality following agreements between the EU and the kingdom. Between 2021 and 2027, Brussels vowed to allocate €500m to Rabat in return for more efforts to combat migration and reinforce border control.

This collaboration, as well as other EU deals with third countries in recent years, has been scrutinised by rights groups. Numerous reports have indicated that the EU knowingly put people at risk of human rights violations by third countries, including Morocco, to prevent refugees from reaching European borders.

The violent incident that took place in June 2022 at the border with the Spanish enclave of Melilla, when at least 37 people were killed following tensions with border guards, has been denounced as an example of these harmful policies.

The human costs of these policies are acutely felt in Fnideq, where the restriction on the daily movement of thousands of Moroccans who used to cross into the Spanish enclave for work resulted in a surge of local unemployment. Over the past five years, Fnideq’s inhabitants have lost up to 70 percent of their revenues.

For Boushra Abjayou, a 17-year-old high school student born and raised in the province, it is despair, especially since Covid, that drives people to attempt the dangerous journey to Europe.

“The situation is hard for boys and young men in Morocco. All of those around me dream about migrating,” she tells MEE.

Her brother left during the 2021 mass crossing and, four years later, he is still struggling to keep afloat in Spain, where he had to sleep on the streets numerous times. Nevertheless, his so-called “success” story inspired Boushra’s cousin to cross the border in September.

Seventeen-year-old Ibrahim*, who is now in a shelter for minors in Ceuta, says he did not plan his crossing or follow social media instructions. 

‘Morocco has crashed. Poverty made me throw myself into the sea’

- Ibrahim, who crossed into Ceuta

“I am from Fnideq, and I see directly what happens every day [at the border]. I do not need anything else,” he tells MEE.

“Morocco has crashed. Poverty made me throw myself into the sea.”

The day Ibrahim swam to Ceuta, in the area close to the Spanish-Moroccan border, the sky was cloudy and foggy. “I found it a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” Ibrahim says as he recalled the 7km journey.

“I did not have any swimming equipment. I just jumped into the water without knowing the way.”

Ibrahim was lucky, unlike at least 37 people who died while attempting to cross into Ceuta by sea between January and September this year. Their lifeless bodies were found floating close to the shores of the Spanish enclave. 

Others were caught by the Moroccan police and transported to the south of the kingdom by buses, according to Francesca Fusaro, spokesperson for the Spanish NGO No Name Kitchen, based in Ceuta.

“This is a very common practice among Moroccan authorities to prevent young men from trying to cross again,” she told MEE.

Ibrahim described his hours in the sea as one of the most terrifying moments of his life.

“I saw my life flash before my eyes, I thought I was going to die,” he says. “I thought about my future, my loved ones, and particularly my mother.”

Ever-present repression

According to Moroccan professor of anthropology, Khalid Mouna, the events of September reflect far more than a willingness of young people to seek a better life.

“It is a political contestation in which youth use migration as a form of protest reflecting their discontent with Morocco's economic and social climate,” he tells MEE. 

According to Mouna, social media are a powerful tool for young people in the face of oppression.

“Repression in the public space is ever present. Social platforms now allow youth from different precarious regions to unite.”

Multiple NGOs have been highlighting the repression of human rights in the kingdom.

Human Rights Watch’s last yearly report indicates that crackdown on freedom of expression and association in Morocco is ever-present, as reflected in the imprisonment and harassment of high-profile activists and journalists, including in the disputed region of Western Sahara. 

‘It is a political contestation in which youth use migration as a form of protest reflecting their discontent with Morocco's economic and social climate’

- Khalid Mouna, anthropology professor

Mouna and Zoubeidi also point to failing health and educational systems alongside inflation as factors contributing to the desire of young Moroccans to leave their country.

A United Nations Development Programme report published in 2023 found that 6.4 percent of the population, almost 2.5 million people, is multidimensionally poor - referring to monetary poverty but also deprivations in fields such as education and basic infrastructure or services. 

The Covid-19 crisis contributed to pushing an additional 1 million people into poverty, according to the World Bank. Unemployment levels rose to 13.6 percent in the third quarter of 2024.

According to Boushra, the distorted image that Moroccan youth get from the fake promises they are sold about Europe on social media makes matter worse.

“The narratives of those who made it to Spain and the numerous songs encouraging migration make their desire increase,” the young student says.

“I am very worried about those recurring thoughts among young Moroccans.”

Meanwhile, Hamza enjoys his beach job in the south of Morocco. Next year, he plans to continue his studies in Europe and apply for a student visa. But he is aware that his friends, without the family support he enjoys, are less fortunate. 

One last time, he scrolls through his social media accounts to find more news from his friends who, out of shame, attempt to uphold a rosy image of their life in Europe. He knows that some of them are sleeping on the street, but in the eyes of their families and acquaintances, they have accomplished the European dream. 

* The name has been changed at the request of the interviewee.