Without rights.
Without protection.
Without a voice.
But at least with enough strength on their backs to haul boxes full of cigarettes over nocturnal mountain trails. Welcome to modern Europe in the year 2026.
People are walking through the cold of the Pyrenees, over rocky paths, burdened like pack mules from a past century – just so that cheap cigarettes can be sold somewhere in Marseille or Toulouse. And while criminal networks earn millions, what remains for the carriers is often what always remains in such systems: fear, silence, and interchangeability.
If one drops out?
Then the next one just comes along.
One has to let this perversion slowly melt on the tongue. In political debates, many like to talk about “migration” as if it were abstract columns of numbers or administrative files. But behind these terms are people who are so desperate that they carry smuggled goods through high mountains at night because some smuggler promised them a few bucks or a vague hope.
And of course, suddenly everyone discovers their moral outrage. Politicians appear “shaken.” Authorities speak of a “major blow against crime.” Probably soon there will be press photos in front of maps and a few weighty sentences about European cooperation.
Great.
The smuggling ring is broken up. The system behind it lives on cheerfully.
Because the truth is uncomfortable: Such networks do not arise in a vacuum. They thrive where people have no protection at all and at the same time there is a demand for cheap goods. The market regulates everything – even the exploitation of human despair. Sounds harsh? But that’s how it is.
Particularly cynical is the societal double standard. The same people who find cheaper cigarettes “quite practical” later speak indignantly about criminal structures. As if the black market was established out of pure boredom. Yet consumption, price differences, and organized crime are more closely linked than many want to admit.
And somewhere among all the investigation files, the crucial thing disappears again in the end: the human being.
Not the carton.
Not the tax losses.
Not the diplomatic cooperation.
The human being.
That nameless migrant who walks through the mountains at night, freezes, falls, or possibly never reappears – so that others can save a few euros and criminals can count their profits.
The truly frightening thing about this story is not even the smuggling itself. Smuggling has always existed. What is frightening is how quickly people in Europe once again become commodities within the system. Interchangeable. Invisible. Practical.
Almost like before. Just with modern logistics.
A commentary by C. Hatty