In July 2025, the bilateral “one-in, one-out” agreement between the United Kingdom and France reshapes migratory lines in post-Brexit Europe. Although South America is geographically distant, it is affected by global power dynamics, making it vital to ask: who benefits most from this treaty, and above all, does it really resolve the migration crisis?
From London’s perspective, the treaty offers a tangible political victory. The Labour government of Keir Starmer can showcase a concrete measure that appears to control migratory flows and remedy past failures, such as the collapse of the Rwanda Plan. At the same time, it gains internal legitimacy and cushions pressure from the domestic far right. Likewise, the agreement further illustrates the perpetuation of Anglo-Saxon influence within Europe.
France, in contrast, faces a duality of costs and gains. In an attempt to revive its national leadership, Macron strengthens his position as the UK’s strategic partner in a fragmented Europe. Yet at the local level, both regional authorities—such as the president of Hauts-de-France—and NGOs highlight the agreement as a “poisoned gift,” one that may overload already strained territories.
From a South American perspective, the backdrop exposes a hegemonic logic: in the absence of a common European migration policy, London and Paris claim bilateral autonomy, revealing the advancing degree of continental fracture now present in the European Union. This reproduces dynamics in which peripheral blocs—such as the MED5 countries (Spain, Italy, Greece, Malta, and Cyprus)—make sacrifices while the core acts unilaterally.
Technically, the agreement’s impact is limited. It foresees the return of only one person per week for every asylum seeker accepted—an almost symbolic figure compared with the more than 20,000 irregular crossings registered so far in 2025.
The European Commission fears not only policy fragmentation but also the externalization of migratory pressure toward its outer borders. Moreover, the agreement does not establish safe routes. Most importantly, it assumes that the migration crisis is itself the root problem, when in fact it is merely an effect and/or symptom of deeper colonial legacies (extreme poverty, violence, etc.) that remain unresolved and continue to drive irregular migration. This makes the treaty little more than a stopgap, one that obscures structural tensions instead of resolving them.
As inhabitants of Nuestra América—a region historically forged by migratory dynamics—we stress that migration is not limited to physical flows. It is symptomatic of structural strangulation, whereby countries in stronger geopolitical positions dictate rules at the expense of others. This agreement reveals that in the old continent, the leading powers (in this case the UK and France) refuse a consensual solution, opting instead for exclusive bilateral measures that further erode the EU’s long-claimed status as an “institutional power.”
In conclusion, the short-term beneficiary is the United Kingdom, with immediate political gains, partial flow control, and a reaffirmation of its influence in Europe. France gains strategic legitimacy but faces internal criticism. Yet at the structural level—which is what truly matters—the crisis remains unresolved: the agreement is a temporary substitute, not a comprehensive policy that addresses the root causes of migration.
From South America, we watch closely this exclusionary model of migration crisis management in Europe—one that further weakens regional cooperation within the EU, subordinates the Euro-Mediterranean countries, and perpetuates the omission of structural causes in its resolution.
