Runaway Boats and Risky Rescues: How EU Policy Endangers Rescue   

Guest post by Rebecca Solovej. Rebecca Solovej is a PhD Fellow in the Department of Anthropology at the University of Copenhagen. Her research focuses on humanitarian sea rescue, border violence, and witnessing in the Central Mediterranean Sea.  

Since early 2024, rescue vessels in the Central Mediterranean Sea have encountered a new and dangerous phenomenon; “runaway boats”. These encounters reveal how EU externalization policies and the criminalization of boat drivers under Italian law are reshaping not only migration but also the ethics and risks of rescue.  

In December 2024, I participated in a rotation with a humanitarian rescue ship on the Central Mediterranean Sea. A couple of hours after our first rescue, we were approached by a fast fiberglass boat: 

I’m on evening deck watch, washing the teacups—still sticky from the heavily sugared black tea we serve newly rescued survivors—while the survivors try to settle on the deck, quietly carving out spaces to sleep on the wooden floor. Suddenly, aggressive shouting in Arabic cuts through the evening air. Peering through the tarps, I see an unknown boat hurtling toward us at full speed. I spot four masked figures standing while dozens of others hunch shoulder to shoulder on the overcrowded fiberglass boat. The drivers threaten to throw overboard any men who sit, and panic ripples through the group, causing the boat to sway violently in the waves. 

The Cultural Mediator on our ship, the only Arabic speaker onboard, calls back that they must remain in the boat until we can launch the rescue speed boats, as the rest of the crew scramble up from their bunks. The boat bangs alongside the ship, rearing and plunging against our slick hull. Leaping from such a small craft onto a moving ship is life-threatening: the shifting gap can snap shut without warning, or a swell can slam the boat into steel. 

Minutes later, “Get ready to rescue” crackles over the radio. The Search and Rescue Coordinator throws down mooring lines and a rope ladder. The seated men clamber aboard into the registration line—some jumping and hugging in relief, one dropping to his knees to pray, tears running through his fingers. Once every seated man is safe, the four masked men speed the boat back into the dark. 

Runaway boats

“Runaway boats” refers to vessels in good condition that approach rescue ships, transfer survivors, and return to Libya. Since early 2024, this practice has posed new challenges for rescue operations, complicating rescue procedures and increasing risks for both crews and survivors. 

Transferring people directly from a small, boat to a large vessel is dangerous, especially given the unsafe practices often employed by boat drivers; unstable, small boats can capsize during the maneuver and the chaotic movements around the rescue ship increase the risk of people falling into the water. In 2024, rescue NGOs reported violent encounters with runaway boats, including aggressive maneuvers such as ramming rescue ships or forcing migrants into the water, increasing the risk of drowning. 

Such encounters reveal how rescuers must navigate between humanitarian ethics and the politics of border enforcement. These encounters expose a growing accountability gap: NGOs are forced to operate in spaces where national legal practices, like the Piantedosi law, stand in ambiguous contradictory relation to international maritime obligations, which state it is a legal duty to save lives at sea. Under the Facilitation Directive (2002/90/EC), the EU criminalizes the intentional assistance of unauthorized entry, transit, or residence. If a rescue vessel is seen as facilitating movement toward Europe rather than providing life-saving assistance, it may be accused of migrant smuggling. 

The Search and Rescue Coordinator who decided to lower the rope ladder—despite knowing how life-threatening it could be for the survivors and aware of potential legal implications—later explained in a debriefing that, under different circumstances, it would have been safer to deploy the rescue boats. But there wasn’t time. She noted that the organization has no Standard Operating Procedure for such situations. We had to react in the moment—managing survivors already onboard, ensuring our own safety, and carrying out the rescue. Decisions had to be made within minutes. 

Adapting to Criminalization 

The emergence of runaway boats reflects an adaptation to overlapping border regimes. The 2023 renewal of the Italy–Libya Memorandum of Understanding has enhanced the capabilities of the so-called Libyan coast guard at sea. Smugglers have responded by altering routes and strategies to avoid detection. Simultaneously, the 2023 Cutro Decree in Italy introduced stricter penalties for boat drivers identified as smugglers. Studies show that to prevent penalties, boat drivers sometimes undertake maneuvers that endanger migrants.  

By fleeing after transferring migrants, drivers aim to evade penalties introduced for facilitating irregular border crossing. The seizure of vessels suspected of being used for smuggling might be another motivation behind the rise in runaway boats. Fiberglass boats equipped with multiple engines are a substantial investment, and protecting them can be as crucial as avoiding detection​. In this way, runaway boats represent an adaptation to both EU border externalization and Italian criminalization measures.  

According to what turned out to be 47 Syrian men who we rescued that day, the boat drivers were members of the so-called Libyan Coast Guard who had intercepted them a week earlier. While we cannot verify their identity, the UN Human Rights Council’s Independent Fact-Finding Mission on Libya has found evidence that elements of the so-called Libyan Coast Guard play a double role as both Coast Guards and human smugglers at sea. Studies suggest that Europe's externalization policies, in some cases, enable trafficking networks to control migration. 

Conclusion  

The rise of runaway boats illustrates how policies of externalization and criminalization do not eliminate migration but instead redistribute its risks onto migrants and rescuers. This is not unique to the Central Mediterranean – similar patterns happen in the Aegean or the Channel. Rather than preventing deaths at sea or human smuggling, such policies make crossings more dangerous and rescues more unpredictable. 

If the EU is serious about reducing deaths at sea, it must confront the contradictions of a system that simultaneously empowers violent actors and criminalizes humanitarian rescue.  

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