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Why migration from Africa this century will make the refugee crisis look like a dress rehearsal

Refugees and migrants wait to disembark the Migrant Offshore Aid Station (MOAS) 'Phoenix' vessel on May 20, 2017 in Trapani, Italy. The group of more than 300 people were rescued at sea by MOAS search and rescue teams on the 18th of May while attempting to cross from Libya to Italy
Europe has to think hard and soon about how it will respond to new waves of movement Credit: Chris McGrath/Getty

For years, immigration was the issue that dared not speak its name in British politics. Now, as we have seen during the week our three main parties presented their manifestos, it is of central importance to anyone hoping to get elected. Whether it be the arrival of cheap labour from central Europe or of desperate souls on tragically unstable inflatable rafts from Syria, every politician needs a strategy. 

Ironically, though, this is not the immigration that will most shape our lives in the coming years. Just as it has become politically acceptable to discuss immigration, we are looking in the wrong direction. If we are not to be blindsided by mass migration once again, we need to look elsewhere.

Typically, migratory flows reflect wide themes beyond the control of any one country. For migrants, technology can make the difference between suffering at home and taking a risk abroad: in the mid-19th century, the potato famine encouraged between one and two million Irish to make the journey across the Atlantic in search of a new future. What allowed many to leave, however, was the fact that a berth across the Atlantic was then far cheaper than it had been 50 years earlier, thanks to improvements in ship design.

The utterly impoverished are usually marooned, but a little economic improvement means they can afford the journey to a possibly more fruitful life elsewhere – one reason why so many still-poor Italians and Spaniards headed to Argentina in the late 19th century.

Today, that means the biggest drivers of migration are likely to be the lower cost of transportation and the demographics in Africa (where populations are increasing at an extraordinary rate) and in parts of the developed world (where populations are declining). Take the contrasting experiences of Nigeria and Italy. In 1950, Nigeria’s population was around 38 million; Italy’s 47 million. In 2015, Nigeria’s stood at 182 million, with Italy’s at 60 million. According to UN projections, Nigeria’s population will rise to over 700 million by 2100 thanks in part to declining infant mortality, while Italy’s will drop back to 50 million thanks to a persistently low birth rate.

For much of this period, Nigeria’s population will, on average, be rather young. And young people, unencumbered by family commitments, have a habit of spreading their wings – particularly if, as in Nigeria’s case, per capita incomes are less than a tenth of those in, say, Italy (or, indeed, the UK).

Nigeria’s story will be replicated in many other parts of Africa, suggesting that the continent’s share of the world’s population is likely to rise from its current 16 per cent to a remarkable 40 per cent by the end of the century. Yet many African countries are among the most war-torn and politically unstable on the planet. Given half a chance, their citizens will surely be tempted to head elsewhere. As such, the world may be about to enter another period of truly mass migration.

It’s already happening. Thanks in part to the activities of Boko Haram, the Italian interior ministry reckons at least 36,000 Nigerians arrived in Italy last year, mostly via Libya. The Syrian refugee crisis may prove to be no more than a dress rehearsal for what may happen in coming decades. How will we cope?

History is not always encouraging. Disturbingly, there are uncanny parallels with the 1930s. We’ve just been through a financial crisis, economic growth has been lacklustre, wages are stagnant and resistance to immigration is on the rise. On both sides of the Atlantic, governments are hoping to strengthen their borders to keep out “the other”. These policies won’t succeed, however, unless opportunities for “the other” rapidly improve at home.

That, in turn, raises deeply awkward questions for the West. Do we disregard the plight of people in Africa and elsewhere, turning back boats as they cross the Mediterranean while ignoring the fate that awaits those who are forced back? Do we trade more with African economies in the hope that economic engagement will do more than just entrench the rich and powerful in those countries? Do we offer more in the way of aid, even though we’d never wish to be permanently dependent on handouts ourselves? Or do we, instead, pretend that responsibility for Africa’s future lies more with China and other Asian nations, as pre-Columbus economic connections – from Beijing to Zanzibar, from Mumbai to Mombasa – are rapidly re-established?

This last option would, in effect, be an admission that the West’s economic power and influence is slowly draining away, consistent with the world’s centre of gravity heading eastwards. For some in the West – keen to turn their nations into gated communities – that might be a price worth paying. Yet, given the vast differences in living standards and the small distances involved, it’s not difficult to imagine that, whatever the West hopes, those gates will eventually be breached by Africans in search of a better life.

Stephen D King’s new book, ‘Grave New World: The End of Globalisation, the Return of History’, is published by Yale University Press

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