IMMIGRATION IS A STRATEGIC ISSUE FOR ITALY
- Francesco Cravero
- 4 days ago
- 10 min read
Beyond the raw numbers of landings—still significant, even if not yet as alarming as they may become in the near future—the cultural, political, social, and demographic tensions surrounding immigration are becoming increasingly prominent and impactful for the country. These are strategic in nature, as they will influence Italy’s long-term structure. Mass immigration on an “industrial scale” from Africa and beyond, which continues regardless of the changing political color of successive governments, is now showing clear signs of its effect on public life in Italy. From weaknesses in the education system and limited academic preparedness to the formation of the first Muslim-identified political party: these are all sociocultural developments that seem difficult to contain.
In March 2011—just as the social collapse of North Africa was unfolding—Saif al-Islam Gaddafi gave two interviews to Corriere della Sera and La Repubblica, stating: “We were very shocked, in fact very irritated by your position [Italy’s], because you are Libya’s number one partner in the world. But now it will be very easy to replace Italy with China or Russia, so be careful. If you betray your partner, how do you think they’ll react? [...] Do you know what would happen if the militias took control of the country? You would be the first victims—millions of illegal immigrants would flood in, and terrorists would leap from the beaches of Tripoli to Lampedusa and Sicily. Wake up! [...] Libya is a frontline for Italy. What happens here today will determine what happens there tomorrow. So: be careful.”
Those words from the colonel’s son may now seem distant, and perhaps somewhat exaggerated—especially when it comes to terrorism—but they remain strikingly realistic and far-sighted, particularly in how they frame immigration, and Libya itself, as a “frontline.”
According to figures from the Ministry of the Interior, around one million people have arrived in Italy over the past ten years. In the most recent quarter, landings from the Tripolitanian coast have increased by 30 percent compared to the same period in 2024.
Pure arithmetic reveals the most striking gap between Africa and Europe: the average age. In 1950, Africa’s median age was 19.3; in 2015, it was still 19.4. Nigeria best exemplifies this demographic dynamic: from 37.9 million inhabitants in 1950 to today’s 186 million. The United Nations estimates that between 2050 and 2100, the West African nation could grow to nearly one billion people. “Among the ten most populous countries in the world, Nigeria is growing the fastest. As a result, its population is expected to surpass that of the United States, making it the most populous country in the world shortly before 2050.”
The cause most often cited to explain the rapid increase in migration flows—from North Africa and Sub-Saharan Africa to the Middle East and Southeast Asia—has always been war, viewed as the primary trigger of displacement. During the years 2013 to 2016, most Asian migrants appeared to be fleeing conflict and instability in Syria and Iraq. In reality, however, only 3,128 of the 29,051 who arrived in Italy during that time were from Syria and Iraq. The majority—70 percent—came from Pakistan and Bangladesh.
The largest migratory flow to Italy over the past decade has consistently originated from Africa: 9,561 in 2012, 88,487 in 2016 (which accounted for 71.5 percent of all asylum seekers that year), approximately 75,603 out of 119,310 total in 2017, around 15,333 out of 23,370 in 2018, and 5,813 out of 11,471 in 2019.
During the peak years of the pandemic, the proportions remained roughly the same. Despite the restrictive and prohibitive measures related to the virus, the number of arrivals surged. Just to give an idea: from 11,471 in 2019 to 34,154 in 2020, then to 67,040, 105,129, and 157,652 in the following years. In 2024, there were 66,600 recorded landings, including around 13,000 minors. Since the beginning of 2025, 7,677 people have reached Italy via the Mediterranean, among them 1,074 children and adolescents under the age of 18.
Today, most arrivals come from Asian countries—chiefly Bangladesh and Pakistan—despite ongoing narratives that continue to emphasize armed conflicts. The main port of departure remains Tripoli. “Bangladeshi migrants generally arrive in Libya by air, with layovers in the United Arab Emirates; most land in Benghazi, in Cyrenaica, and then travel westward overland. Syrians also tend to depart from Libya, flying in via direct flights from Damascus to Benghazi, or with layovers in Turkey.”
Beyond the raw numbers—which are still significant, even if not yet overwhelming—the cultural, political, social, economic, and demographic aspects of immigration continue to emerge as long-term, structural challenges for Italy. Mass immigration on an “industrial scale” from Africa and beyond, regardless of who governs, is not decreasing—nor is it being resolved. It is now showing visible signs in the dynamics of Italian public life. The hardline immigration policy pushed by Matteo Salvini between 2018 and 2019 brought about a temporary drop in landings. However, public opinion and Italy’s limited political autonomy—in this case, exercised through the judiciary, which acts as a gatekeeper in matters of foreign policy, as strategic grammar teaches—quickly brought that initiative to a halt.
For the past couple of years, the Meloni-led majority has been pursuing more or less creative legal maneuvers to bypass the obstacle of “international law” in its fight against immigration—most notably the agreement with Albania, which so far exists primarily in news headlines and whose substance remains unclear. Time will tell whether, as in the previous case, political representation will manage to overcome the structural constraints of external law and the limits of collective awareness and willingness.
Afro-Asian immigration has long followed three main routes: eastern, central, and western. The eastern route runs through Turkey, Greece, and the Balkans, and is typically used by migrants aiming for Central and Northern Europe. The central route begins in Agadez, a city in Niger, crosses Libya, and continues across the Strait of Sicily into Italy. The western route begins in the Spanish enclaves of Ceuta and Melilla in Morocco and crosses the Strait of Gibraltar into Spain.
Libya’s chaos has made the central route particularly active over the years. But this isn’t the only reason. Economic factors—such as lower costs and better logistical organization enabled by Sahelian instability—also play a role. The Spanish-Moroccan agreement, which introduced various coercive measures, has not entirely shut down the western route, but has made it much more difficult. Meanwhile, Spain is now facing increased arrivals via the Canary Islands. Then there is Turkey, which, with German and EU funding (especially during the Merkel era), has for years used its geographic position as leverage—turning migration into a tool of political pressure.
Since at least 2016, several public transport companies in Niger have pivoted—encouraged or pressured—toward the business of moving migrants. “Sonef, Rimbo, and 3Stv operate modern vehicles, offer competitive pricing, and have an extensive network capable of reaching travelers all the way from Accra, 2,000 kilometers to the south, or Dakar, 3,700 kilometers to the west.” That same year, a local migration council official explained in an interview: “In the Agadez region, migration generates significant economic resources, having replaced tourism, which used to be the area’s primary industry. Today, migrants are our tourists: they are welcomed, housed, and transported wherever they want to go. Transport operators, restaurant owners, hoteliers—everyone is involved.”
Rimbo’s owner is Mohamed Rhissa, a controversial local billionaire. The head of 3Stv, until his death, was Cherife Abidine, known as “Cocaine” for his involvement in both drug trafficking and human smuggling. He was also a former member of parliament representing Agadez under the party of President Mahamadou Issoufou, who served until 2021.
The situation does not appear to have changed—neither under the presidency of Mohamed Bazoum nor after the coup led by General Abdourahamane Tchiani and his allies. In fact, since November 2023, shortly after the rebel takeover of the Ministry, all restrictions on human trafficking have been lifted, and existing charges have been dropped.
Since Libya’s collapse into a failed state, Nigeria has stepped in through the university-based organization Black Axe. Active since the 1970s in the heroin trade and operating as a covert political movement, Black Axe has taken on a central role in organizing human trafficking—handling logistics, promotion, and even legal strategy. They forge refugee documents for those they transport. Migrants are often abducted or coerced—sometimes through black magic rituals performed on their families—and their original IDs are destroyed and replaced with forged documents from Edo State. This method capitalized on a 2017 court ruling in Naples, which granted refugee status to all individuals from Edo.
Numerous news reports have documented collaboration between Nigerian crime syndicates like Black Axe and Italian criminal organizations, which subcontract various activities to them on Italian soil.
Sahelian and Sub-Saharan nomadism, combined with massive financial flows and the need to reduce internal social pressure due to overpopulation, has convinced some governments to facilitate trafficking—or at least avoid disrupting the status quo.
“African jihadism is less interested in directly attacking the West within its borders, and more focused on undermining and parasitizing our economies from the periphery, through smuggling and illegal trade across African territory.”
This statement highlights the strategic importance of human trafficking for African Islamist militias, as well as for organized crime networks.
Beneath Afro-Asian immigration also lies the issue of Islamist infiltration—currently absent from media attention, but still smoldering. Two events from the past decade speak volumes about the present moment.
Sabratha, 2017. The Tripolitanian city, then under ISIS control, became one of the main departure ports that year. Among the “migrants” boarding boats there, it is almost certain that jihadists disguised as refugees were included.
Since 2020, after prevailing over Haftar to defend Tripoli, western Libya has been governed by Turkish-backed forces. Strategically, Turkey has every interest in allowing—or even supporting—departures. The goal: to destabilize a Mediterranean rival like Italy, and by extension, all of Europe. Erdogan, the architect of political Islam in Africa, has openly stated that Muslims should have five children each so they can become “the future of Europe.” That alone reveals how the “Sultan” envisions Islam—not only as a religion, but as a strategic tool he is prepared to wield, if only symbolically.
While Saudi Arabia has historically funded mosques and Islamic cultural centers to spread Salafist doctrine, Turkey has carved out its own niche within the broader Islamist network in recent decades.
The second example involves the Sharia4 project: “It’s often hard to distinguish between a devout individual and a radicalized one—but that distinction is essential from a security standpoint.”
Sharia4 was a movement that, over the last few decades, aimed to spread Salafist ideology across Europe. Its most famous and influential branch was Sharia4UK. “In the UK, according to a BBC investigation, sharia law is applied daily within the Muslim community—effectively creating a state within a state.”
On one hand, Sharia4 recruited Salafist followers; on the other, it supported terrorist activity. Donations made to mosques and Islamic institutions were used to finance foreign fighters.
This happened in the UK, but around the same time, some Islamist groups in Denmark even formally requested the implementation of sharia law by the state.
In Italy, Sharia4 never gained traction—thanks to strong counterterrorism efforts, a minimal colonial history, and a relatively recent immigration wave. But that doesn’t mean it won’t take root in the future—perhaps with the next generation.
Seemingly minor events that took place in 2024 offer a clear measure of Italy’s lack of awareness when it comes to historical warning signs: the closure of a school in Pioltello for Ramadan, which has become an annual custom; the exemption from studying The Divine Comedy in a high school in Treviso; and perhaps most significantly, the invitation of Imam Brahim Baya to deliver a jihadist sermon at the University of Turin, where female students were seated behind a barrier.
While each of these episodes might seem trivial in isolation, together they reflect Italy’s inability to grasp what lies behind seemingly benign narratives—whether it’s the defense of the Palestinian cause, personal freedom of choice, or the celebration of religious holidays that, contrary to popular belief, are not purely symbolic. These precedents can potentially reshape public life according to local cultural customs.
In March, Bou Konate, a former Senegalese city councilor and practicing Muslim affiliated with the center-left, announced his candidacy for the upcoming April municipal elections in Monfalcone. He did so with a political list composed entirely of foreign-born candidates, inspired by Islamic principles. One-third of Monfalcone’s residents are foreign-born.
The Islamic community—despite its internal diversity of cultural and geographic backgrounds—knows exactly how to exploit one of Italy’s key social vulnerabilities: a version of freedom of expression rooted solely in the individual, with no regard for collective cohesion. It also fully understands the historical power of cultural symbols—works that are not just artistic or technical achievements, but also vehicles of deep cultural meaning.
Rome, in accordance with strategic grammar for a country with limited sovereignty, focuses primarily on economic performance as the end goal of collective well-being. Yet it fails even in economic integration. In the third quarter of 2024, remittances sent abroad increased by 2.4% compared to the same period the year before. Growth was strongest in transfers to Asia (+7.1%), North Africa and the Middle East (+11.3%), more than offsetting the decline in remittances to Sub-Saharan Africa (–8.6%) and the European Union (–8.9%).
Based on data from the four quarters ending in September 2024, the top three destinations for remittances from Italy were Bangladesh (16% of outgoing flows), Pakistan (7.6%), and the Philippines (7%).
A constellation of factors—demographic trends, social atomization, and Islam as both a political force and worldview—can be identified as strategic challenges.
Between 1964 and 1995, Italy’s fertility rate dropped from 2.7 children per woman to 1.19. From the 1990s to the early 2020s, it hovered between 1.2 and 1.5—thanks largely to immigrant women.
Today, even that foreign-born contribution is in slight decline, partly due to naturalization.
Beyond the risk of radicalization as a national security issue, Italy—unlike Germany—is not facing the immediate prospect of a tightly bound internal “fifth column,” such as the Turkish-German community, which remains highly connected to Ankara. Migration into Italy is highly fragmented, as is the composition of its foreign-born population. However, Italy risks a growing social atomization: foreign enclaves continue to emerge and expand, and combined with the native population’s demographic decline, they may create power imbalances that are difficult to manage.
Islam may become a unifying force for disparate groups who share not just a different worldview, but in some cases, an active aversion to local customs and traditions.
Through a national educational effort aimed at reinforcing Italy’s social fabric—a project that would also benefit younger Italians—and through political and diplomatic initiatives to encourage migration from non-Muslim countries (which tend to integrate more easily), Rome could gain a strategic advantage in managing what is one of the most complex and pressing issues on Europe’s security and social agendas
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