A delegation from the European Parliament’s Committee on Civil Liberties, Justice and Home Affairs (LIBE) visited the island of El Hierro on Tuesday, May 27th. This institutional gesture has been received with cautious optimism. Yet, behind the rhetoric of solidarity and engagement, serious doubts persist regarding the effectiveness of such missions in the face of a migration crisis that has long exceeded the Canary Islands’ capacity to respond.
Canary Islands President Fernando Clavijo used the occasion to reiterate a strong call for a specific EU strategy to manage unaccompanied migrant minors and requested direct funding from Brussels to the regions involved, bypassing national governments. He also urged a clearer legal distinction between adults and minors in implementing the European Migration and Asylum Pact and reinforced cooperation policies with African nations.
Clavijo highlighted that so far in 2025, El Hierro alone has received 6,200 migrants—more than half of the 10,882 arrivals across the entire archipelago. Still, the EU’s main response appears to be focused on redistributing those arriving rather than on stopping the increasingly overwhelming influx of boats, known locally as cayucos, from reaching the islands.
The MEPs’ presence undoubtedly raises the visibility of the problem and may be seen as a symbolic step forward. However, the visit comes years after this crisis began—long enough for many observers to consider it a silent invasion. And yet, the priorities outlined by regional authorities remain centered on handling minors and securing more resources, not on halting the migratory flow.
The LIBE committee was expected to take the pulse of the local reality. However, a noticeable disconnect persists between political diagnosis and on-the-ground experience. The islands face service degradation, growing budgetary strain, and a rising sense of insecurity—all without eliciting a commensurate response from Madrid or Brussels.
Equally concerning is Frontex’s ambiguous role. Despite its heightened presence in the Atlantic Route, migration experts point out that the European Border and Coast Guard Agency often operates under a rescue-oriented logic similar to that of human-rights NGOs rather than functioning as a genuine maritime barrier. In practice, this means many operations facilitate rather than deter illegal migration.
Despite increased funding and broader deployment, Frontex has not succeeded in reducing the flow; quite the opposite. Public perception is tilting toward the view that Europe’s maritime borders are de facto open, while political discourse remains riddled with euphemisms and half-measures.
Complicating the situation further is growing tension between Spain’s central government and several regional administrations. In recent months, the mass relocation of migrants from the Canary Islands to mainland Spain has taken place under discreet or nighttime operations to avoid public scrutiny. These moves—carried out by the Socialist government—have drawn criticism for their lack of transparency, coordination, and genuine political will.
These relocations are often used as bargaining chips in political negotiations, particularly when securing support for budgets or specific legislation. A striking example is Catalonia, where the central government has granted the regional authorities more control over incoming migrants, shifting the burden to other regions such as Madrid, further deepening territorial imbalance.
If this trend continues, it could spark a broader institutional rift between Brussels, Madrid, and other European regions, with significant political and social repercussions. The quiet redistribution of thousands of migrants risks becoming a powder keg for national governance and a ticking time bomb for European cohesion.
