PARIS — It’s a routine scene on the Moroccan border in the Spanish enclave of Ceuta: On September 15, hundreds of migrants, having coordinated through social media, rushed the barbed-wire fence near the town of Fnideq.
But the Moroccan police held their ground against the collective push. No one managed to cross the open land and approach the Spanish side, where an even more formidable barrier awaited them: a double fence with metal grating and barbed wire, equipped with radars, thermal cameras and motion detectors. The attempted crossing into this so-called “promised land” ended with at least 60 arrests.
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This was not enough to discourage Moroccan and sub-Saharan migrants. In August 2024 alone, Moroccan authorities foiled 11,300 attempts to enter Ceuta. Melilla, the Spain’s second enclave in Morocco, faces similar migrant surges — a situation that has persisted for nearly 30 years.
The border fortifications established in the early 1990s along Europe’s African outposts have become emblematic. These initial barriers marked the beginning of a larger process of fortifying the European continent in response to an increasing influx of migrants. Since then, more than 15 similar structures — incorporating concrete, steel, metal grates and barbed wire — have been erected at the edges of the Schengen area, the EU’s visa-free travel zone.
Brutalization of borders
The trend intensified after 2015, when a large wave of migration was spurred by the Syrian war and pushed migrants along the Balkan route. Greece led the way in 2012, building a fence along its border with Turkey. Hungary followed, protecting its border with Serbia.
These constructions reflect a ‘brutalization’ of border enforcement.
To stem the flows of irregular entries, some states even constructed barriers along borders with other Schengen countries, such as Austria with Slovenia and Hungary with Croatia. The movement then shifted northward, with Poland erecting a fence along its border with Belarus in 2021, and Finland doing the same along its Russian border. France also set up anti-migrant barriers at Calais.
For political scientist Frédéric Encel “these constructions reflect a ‘brutalization’ of border enforcement. But more significantly, they signal a resurgence of the nation-state in an almost tribal form, driven by fears of an invasion perceived as hostile, from groups that are culturally and linguistically different.”
Self-isolation or duty of control
The issue is polarizing, with two nearly irreconcilable camps. On one side are those such as Damien Simonneau, a lecturer at France’s National Institute for Oriental Languages and Civilizations and author of Pourquoi s’emmurer (“Why We Build Walls”), who views this trend as “the embodiment of a rejection of diversity and a form of self-isolation.” He argues that human rights, particularly the right to asylum, should take precedence.
On the other side are those including Michel Foucher, a geographer and former French ambassador to Latvia, who believes that “a sovereign state has the duty to control its borders and the right to decide whom it allows to enter.”
The controversy and fortifications are not limited to Europe. Around the same time Spain began constructing fences in Ceuta and Melilla, U.S. President Bill Clinton erected a 14-kilometer wire fence in San Diego, California, to curb Mexican migration — a precursor to the wall that now stretches along much of the U.S.-Mexico border. Often mistakenly called “Trump’s Wall,” it was largely built during the Bush and Obama administrations.
Similar anti-migrant barriers have established between Saudi Arabia and Yemen, and the United Arab Emirates and Oman. Wealthy nations, attractive to would-be migrants, are building barriers at their borders to control migration flows.
From east-west wall to north-south walls
This “rebordering” phenomenon is also fueled by security concerns, often military in nature, and sometimes linked to counterterrorism and crime prevention efforts.
“More traditionally, walls also serve to freeze a simmering state of conflict between two countries,” explains political scientist Alexandra Novosseloff, author of Des murs entre les hommes (“Walls Between Men”). This is the case with the walls dividing North and South Korea, India and Pakistan, Morocco and the Polisario Front in Western Sahara, and Greece and Turkey in Cyprus.
There are now more than 70 walls and other barriers worldwide.
The latest edition of L’Atlas des frontières (The Border Atlas) reports there are now more than 70 walls and other barriers worldwide, spanning a quarter of the world’s land borders. When the Berlin Wall fell in 1989, there were only about 15 such barriers.
“Back then, in the euphoria of German reunification, some thought, perhaps naively, that this joyous end marked the beginning of a world where such walls would no longer be necessary,” recalls academic Jean-Christophe Rufin. They were clearly mistaken.
Rufin, a former French ambassador in Brazil, had instead suggested in his 1991 book L’Empire et les nouveaux barbares (The Empire and the New Barbarians) that the fall of the Iron Curtain would give way to new walls, this time separating the North from the South — a remarkably prescient view.
Barriers as “totems”
For Foucher, the frequent reference to the fall of the Berlin Wall to contextualize and criticize today’s “rebordering” is questionable.
“That structure, part of the Iron Curtain, was primarily intended to prevent East Germans from leaving,” the former French ambassador to Latvia explains. “It was seen as unbearable because it symbolized the division of a nation. The moralizing comparison with today’s barriers, built to control migrant flows, is unfounded.”
Yet these walls, erected against these so-called “new barbarians,” carry strong symbolic value. History, it seems, is repeating itself.
“Beyond their defensive role, the Great Wall of China and the Roman limes, which included Hadrian’s Wall in England, also served to delineate the civilized world, protecting it from barbarians — those ‘others’ who did not share the same values,” explains historian Claude Quétel, author of Histoire des murs (History of Walls).
The rhetoric of walls taps into deep-seated anthropological instincts.
For the author and political scientist Novosseloff, these barriers are “primarily political theater.” Rather than halting irregular entries, they allow political leaders to show increasingly immigration-skeptical publics that they are taking action, even if the walls function merely as “placebos.”
“The physical presence of walls speaks to the imagination,” Simonneau writes in his book.
American philosopher Wendy Brown goes further, suggesting in her 2010 book Walled States, Waning Sovereignty, that these barriers also fulfill a psychological function, framing the nation as a “family home.” To understand this, one only has to think of the fences people eagerly build around their homes — not to mention the gated communities popping up in cities everywhere. The rhetoric of walls taps into deep-seated anthropological instincts.
Two competing ideas
Not surprisingly, “pro-wall” countries or regions are always those in direct contact with irregular migration. These barriers crystallize political opposition.
This is the case in Texas, where Republican Governor Greg Abbott criticizes the Biden administration for being too lax. Consequently, he did not hesitate to arrange bus transfers of thousands of irregular migrants to New York City, led by Democratic Mayor Eric Adams, with the sole purpose of making him face the Texas reality firsthand.
The same opposition exists within the EU, particularly between countries with external borders and the European Commission. Despite repeated requests from about a dozen countries, including Hungary, Poland, Bulgaria, Austria and Denmark, Brussels has so far refused to fund the construction of these barriers.
Instead, its support is directed toward reception centers, surveillance equipment and the deployment of Frontex border and coast guard agents, whose budget rose from 6 million to 845 million euros between 2005 and 2023.
Yet the Commission’s policy is uncomfortable. “On one hand, it cannot stray from human rights principles and asylum laws. On the other, it must address the dominant public perception of uncontrolled immigration,” says political scientist Encel.
This tension explains the gradual shift of European social-democratic parties toward tougher policies. As a result, the European Pact on Migration and Asylum, adopted last spring, has further tightened screening procedures.
Outsourcing of migrant management
Beyond political considerations, many human tragedies unfold at the borders of the European continent.
“Every time one route is blocked or closed, another one opens, often more dangerous,” says Amara Makhoul, editor-in-chief of France24’s InfoMigrants news page. The ingenuity of smugglers pushes border guards to intensify their interventions. Local organizations accuse them of conducting “pushbacks” to prevent migrants from filing asylum claims and criticize Frontex for allegedly overlooking these practices. The agency has even had to withdraw from Hungary and Lithuania for this reason.
“Similar accusations are leveled at Greece, Bulgaria and Croatia, though these countries deny them,” Makhoul explains. “And since border barriers are often in military zones closed to the public, it is extremely difficult to document these illegal pushbacks.”
By entrusting migrant containment to a neighboring country, Europe exposes itself to potential blackmail.
Brussels is increasingly outsourcing migrant management to neighboring countries through “cash-for-containment” agreements. Since 2015, Turkey has been at the forefront of this model, receiving 6 billion euros in two installments, used to develop reception centers and build a 730-kilometer wall along the Syrian border. Turkey now hosts nearly 4 million migrants, a source of tension with the local population.
Additionally, since the Taliban’s return to Kabul in 2021, Turkey has faced a new influx of Afghan refugees, prompting President Recep Tayyip Erdogan, with European support, to begin constructing a new 300-kilometer concrete wall through mountainous terrain on the Iranian border. But by entrusting migrant containment to a neighboring country, Europe exposes itself to potential blackmail.
“Migrants have become a kind of hybrid weapon — cynical but effective,” Encel says. For instance, at the slightest tension with Spain, Moroccan police threaten to relax their watch over the fences in Ceuta and Melilla.
Buffer states
Since summer 2021, Belarus, under the influence of Russian President Vladimir Putin, has orchestrated the arrival of migrants — particularly along the Polish border — as a means to destabilize the European Union. This has led to the construction of a 187-kilometer, 5-meter-high steel fence through the vast Bialowieza Forest, between Poland and Belarus. Inside this buffer zone, the military is even authorized to shoot on sight.
In her film “Green Border,” awarded at the penultimate Venice Film Festival, Polish director Agnieszka Holland documents the tragic plight of the thousands of migrants instrumentalized by Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko. Last year, Finland also began building a 200-kilometer wall to secure its eastern border and prevent the arrival of Russians, many of whom are fleeing conscription.
To curb migrant arrivals within the Schengen area, Brussels is aiming to address the issue closer to its source — on the other side of the Mediterranean. Following agreements with Turkey and Tunisia, European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen signed a financial deal with Egypt last March, which includes measures for migrant retention.
Irregular entries into the Schengen area dropped by 42% from January to September
This strategy also reflects the influence of Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni. Once again, Brussels faces criticism for aligning with unscrupulous authoritarian regimes.
Rufin views this as a confirmation of his insight in The Empire and the New Barbarians, where he predicted the formation of “buffer states” between wealthy and impoverished nations. “Today, they can be seen as walls on a territorial scale,” he says.
Are these measures effective? After reaching 254,000 in 2023, irregular entries into the Schengen area dropped by 42% from January to September. Yet it’s hard to establish a clear trend. “For migrants, the lack of prospects in their own countries means the desire to leave will always remain strong,” InfoMigrant’s Makhoul says.
Europe is now more determined than ever to differentiate between political refugees and economic migrants. For the former, some states are increasingly considering outsourcing asylum processing to third countries. Following attempts by the UK and Denmark to partner with Rwanda, Italy is now testing this approach with Albania, though not without challenges.
For economic migrants, however, the pathway to Europe is likely to narrow.
New international tensions
How can migrants be prevented from reaching the barriers erected around Europe? So far, development aid investments have not been very effective.
“One solution would be to organize mobility by negotiating entry quotas with source countries, with incentives such as paid travel and training, but with a commitment to return afterward,” Foucher suggests. But it’s uncertain if this would be sufficient to significantly reduce migration flows.
Even developing countries are building barriers to shield themselves from poorer neighbors.
At this stage, while most sensitive borders in Europe have been secured with barriers, the process seems far from complete. Even developing countries are building barriers to shield themselves from poorer neighbors.
The world’s longest fence, currently 3,326 kilometers, was completed by India along its border with Bangladesh in 2007. It is also one of the deadliest, with dozens of deaths each year. Similarly, Botswana has erected a 500-kilometer electrified metal barrier on its border with Zimbabwe.
One must also consider new international tensions. “If there’s one phenomenon I hadn’t anticipated in my book, it’s the reactivation of an East-West front not only with Russia but also with China, Iran and Korea,” Rufin says. Beyond its anti-migrant fence, Poland also aims to build a set of military fortifications along its border with Russia’s Kaliningrad exclave.
The hopes inspired by the fall of the Berlin Wall — of a global village without obstacles to human movement, regardless of origin — are clearly still far from being realized.
