“Spain is for Spaniards!” The chant echoed through Madrid’s streets on May 23, 2025. Thousands rallied, demanding the mass deportation of illegal migrants. They focused particularly on those from the Arab-Muslim world. Far-right groups fueled the protest. Social media amplified it. The protest wasn’t just a reaction to immigration. It was a flare-up of deeper tensions—cultural, economic, and political. The demonstrators’ solution, a blanket expulsion of undocumented migrants, promises simplicity. But simplicity in geopolitics is a mirage.

This isn’t just about Madrid’s moment of rage. It’s about Europe’s fraying social contract. It involves the collision of globalization with national identity. There is a perilous allure of policies that sound decisive but unravel under scrutiny. I don’t agree with the protesters’ deportation policy. It’s not because it’s morally repugnant, though it flirts with that edge. It’s because it’s a strategic dead end. It ignores history, inflates costs, and fuels the very instability it claims to resolve.

The Mirage of Mass Deportation

Mass deportation sounds like a clean fix: round up the undocumented, ship them back, restore order. But logistics expose the fantasy. Spain’s Interior Ministry reported 56,852 irregular migrant arrivals in 2023. This is nearly double the number from the previous year. Most migrants landed on the Canary Islands, arriving from West Africa. Let’s assume 500,000 undocumented migrants are in Spain, as some NGOs estimate. Deporting them would require identifying and detaining half a million people. Transporting them would be challenging. Many of these individuals lack clear documentation. Additionally, their home governments are not cooperative.

Consider the numbers:

• Cost: The U.S., with a more robust deportation system, spends $315 million annually to deport 180,000 people. Scaling that to Spain’s hypothetical 500,000 would cost upwards of $875 million, assuming no legal battles or international pushback.
• Time: Processing 500,000 cases through Spain’s overburdened judicial system could take years. In 2020, Spanish NGOs flagged 42 illegal pushbacks to Morocco as human rights violations, sparking investigations. Mass deportation would multiply such cases exponentially.
• Destination: Many migrants hail from conflict zones like Syria or unstable states like Mali. Morocco and Algeria have bilateral agreements with Spain for returns. These agreements apply only to their nationals. Even then, cooperation is spotty. Forcing non-citizens into uncooperative or dangerous countries risks refoulement—returning people to persecution—which violates international law.

The protesters’ plan assumes a world where borders are absolute and nations can act unilaterally. That world doesn’t exist. Spain’s economy, from agriculture to construction, leans on migrant labor. Deporting en masse would gut industries already strained by an aging population. And the backlash? Expect protests, riots, and a surge in anti-European sentiment across the Maghreb and beyond.

Europe’s History of Expulsion: A Cautionary Tale

History doesn’t favor mass deportation. Look at Spain’s own past. The 1492 expulsion of Jews and Muslims during the Reconquista didn’t unify the nation. Instead, it crippled its economy and intellectual life for centuries. More recently, France’s 2010 push to deport Roma sparked EU-wide condemnation and achieved little beyond political posturing. In 2021, Spain itself returned 6,600 migrants to Morocco after a border surge in Ceuta. However, the move strained diplomatic ties. It also failed to deter future crossings.

Compare this to Germany’s 2015 decision to absorb over a million refugees. It wasn’t altruistic—Angela Merkel’s government calculated that an aging workforce needed young labor. The integration process was messy. There were cultural clashes and a far-right backlash. Despite this, Germany’s economy grew and its labor shortage eased. Deportation, by contrast, rarely delivers. It’s a policy of optics, not outcomes.

The Arab-Muslim Scapegoat

The Madrid protesters’ focus on the “Arab-Muslim world” isn’t random. It taps a narrative peddled by far-right groups like Vox, which links migration to cultural erosion and terrorism. Social media amplifies this, with fake news about Muslim migrants imposing Sharia or overwhelming welfare systems. Yet the data undercuts the hysteria. Muslims make up roughly 6% of Spain’s population—about 2.5 million, many of whom are Spanish citizens. Most irregular migrants in 2023 came from sub-Saharan Africa, not the Arab world.

Blaming Muslims sidesteps the real drivers: poverty, conflict, and climate change pushing people north. Spain’s Canary Islands saw 39,910 arrivals in 2023, driven by West African instability and desertification. Deporting these migrants doesn’t fix Mali’s governance or Senegal’s droughts. It just shifts the problem, leaving desperate people to try again—or worse, fueling resentment that extremist groups exploit.

The Far-Right’s Pyrrhic Victory

The Madrid protests, backed by far-right voices, aren’t just about migration—they’re a power grab. Vox’s rhetoric, invoking the Reconquista, thrives on fear. But fear-driven policies backfire. In 2022, Spain deported a Moroccan activist accused of radicalism. This action led to accusations of Islamophobia. It also resulted in strained ties with Rabat. Pushing for mass deportation risks alienating Spain’s Muslim community, radicalizing fringes, and handing propaganda victories to groups like al-Qaeda.

Moreover, the far-right’s vision ignores Spain’s place in the EU. Brussels has pushed for “return hubs” outside Europe, but Spain’s Socialist government has resisted, wary of human rights fallout. A unilateral deportation policy would clash with EU law, isolate Madrid, and weaken Spain’s leverage in trade and security talks.

What’s at Stake—and What’s Next?

Mass deportation is a policy that sounds tough but crumbles under scrutiny. It’s too costly, too slow, and too divisive to work. Worse, it distracts from real solutions. These include stronger border management, economic investment in migrant-sending countries, and integration policies that don’t inflame tensions. Spain’s 2024 push to regularize 500,000 undocumented migrants shows a different path—one that acknowledges reality over rhetoric.

The question facing Spain—and Europe—is this: Will leaders chase short-term populist wins? Or will they confront the long-term forces driving migration? The protesters in Madrid want a fortress. But fortresses fall when the world outside keeps knocking. For Spaniards, the choice isn’t just about who stays or goes—it’s about whether they’ll let fear rewrite their future.