A Door of Hope, Death in Libya

In October 2022, a phone call from Italy reached me, the voice on the other end filled with worry and trepidation.

“My brother Adham traveled to Libya, and we have lost contact with him. We don't know if he is alive or dead,” disclosed Osama Abdel Tawab Amin, an Egyptian.

Amin proceeded to recount the events surrounding his 14-year-old brother Adham, who embarked on a journey from Egypt to Libya with the intention of reaching the eastern city of Benghazi.

Adham, a native of the Asyut governorate in southern Egypt, had become part of a group of numerous minors from various Arab and African countries who hoped to reach Europe.

Driven by the aspiration to migrate to Europe from a tender age, these underage children willingly subject themselves to the grip of human traffickers.

Departing from their villages, they embark on a hazardous expedition, fraught with the potential outcomes of imprisonment, arrival on European shores, or, tragically, repatriation to their home countries.

This time, however, the outcome was ominous as it led those minors to their “final resting place.”

Spanning from the Nile Delta to Sidi Barrani near the Libyan border and reaching into other countries, including Sudan and Chad, this investigation aims to document extensive human trafficking operations affecting minors.

Starting in early 2021, there has been a notable increase in reports from Egyptian, African, and Syrian families concerning their children’s journey to Libya and the subsequent loss of communication.

Desperate to reunite with their children, these families have been actively seeking assistance and have shared distressing accounts of their children falling prey to the deceitful tactics employed by human traffickers.

The somber reality of this tragedy came to light at the rear entrance of the Egyptian Ministry of Foreign Affairs building, offering a panoramic view of the Nile in Cairo.

It was in this location that Asharq Al-Awsat captured a significant collection of grievances submitted by individuals.

Furthermore, members of the Egyptian parliament have been presented with additional reports, each intertwined with a distressing combination of fear and despair.

In mid-March 2022, the Libyan Coast Guard issued a statement regarding the tragic sinking of a boat in the Mediterranean Sea.

The incident occurred off the coast of “Wadi Umm al-Shaush,” situated near the eastern Libyan city of Tobruk.

Among the migrants on board were around 18 young Egyptians.

Despite extensive search efforts conducted over several days, the family of Amr Sayed Anwar, a 15-year-old Egyptian boy hailing from a village in the Dakahlia governorate north of Cairo, received the devastating news that their son was among the victims of this tragic drowning incident.

After approximately a month had passed since the incident, I contacted Anwar’s father, who resides in a village near the town of El-Senbellawein, one of the administrative centers in the Dakahlia governorate.

The man, who is around fifty years old and works as a daily laborer on a farm, expressed that the authorities in Libya had not located his son’s body.

He sorrowfully stated: “I have lost my son forever.”

The grieving father’s intense emotional state prevented me from inquiring about the details of his son’s journey to Libya, but he erupted in anger when the term “broker” was mentioned.

“I paid 30,000 Egyptian pounds and he ended up traveling with 22 others, some older than him. They went to a broker in Marsa Matruh. After reaching Libya, the broker demanded an additional 70,000 pounds to continue the journey to Italy,” recalled the father angrily.

Upon being provided with the broker’s contact information by Anwar’s father, it became apparent to me that the “broker market” functions akin to any other market, governed by the dynamics of supply and demand, as well as the art of negotiation and bargaining.

In this market, each region within Libya carries a specific price that prospective migrants must pay, determined by its proximity or distance from the Egyptian borders.

It turned out that the broker referred to me by the father of the deceased child enjoys a wide reputation among those aspiring to engage in clandestine migration from several rural governorates in the Nile Delta, despite him residing in the Sidi Barrani area, located 570 kilometers northwest of Cairo.

The broker did not respond to any requests for an interview regarding his activities in facilitating border-crossing for migrants.

However, he later interacted with us when we identified ourselves as concerned parents seeking to migrate their children.

During the initial conversation, I asked him for assistance in smuggling three young boys to Libya, to which he did not object. He promptly inquired: “Which region do they want to go to?”

Abu Mazen, the broker operating under an alias, wasted no time and did not allow me much room to answer.

His mannerisms seemed to blend Egyptian and Libyan influences.

Without hesitation, he promptly stated the exact sum required and confidently asserted his ability to facilitate the transportation of any number of individuals across the Egyptian border into Libya.

In an attempt to reassure me, he even added: “I consider them my own children, I swear to God!”

Around ten days later, I contacted Abu Mazen, and it appeared that the sheer number of callers had caused him to forget our previous conversation. He asked for a recap of our discussion, and then I requested a meeting with him. With clear reluctance, he opted to schedule our meeting in Marsa Matruh a week later.

At the end of May 2022, during our conversation, Abu Mazen proposed a change of plans.

Instead of meeting in Marsa Matruh as initially planned, he suggested that it would be more convenient for both of us to meet in Alexandria. He explained that he would be visiting a relative there and offered the option for me to meet him in Alexandria if I preferred.

We met as planned at a seaside café in the Al-Asafira district of Alexandria, situated about 230 kilometers north of Cairo. Our discussion primarily focused on how young individuals are recruited and the various techniques employed to smuggle them out of the country.

I noticed that the sixty-year-old man spoke with ease, but when it came to the details, caution overcame him.

With a touch of boasting, Abu Mazen, whose phone never stopped ringing, began to showcase how he possessed a strong network of connections within Libya.

Suddenly, he said, “I don't exploit or deceive young people. They come to us seeking help to smuggle them into Libya, and we assist them, never leaving them except in the specific region they specify.”

During our time at the café, Abu Mazen took pride in the abundance of phone calls he received in less than an hour, highlighting the growing demand for his services.

He made a point of emphasizing that he does not overcharge like “others,” stating: “We hold ourselves accountable to God when it comes to people’s children.”

“I charge 20,000 pounds per person from the Barani border to Tripoli (approximately $650), and 15,000 pounds to Benghazi.”

“Others charge 40,000 or 50,000 pounds and abandon or sell them,” he added.

Abu Mazen further remarked: “Today, the Libyan dinar is valued at five Egyptian pounds,” referring to the exchange rate between the two currencies at that time (with the dollar equivalent to 5.12 dinars).

After my insistence, Abu Mazen enlightened me about the smuggling methods and said: “This has been my work for years, and I have my connections inside Libya, just ten hours away from the customs.”

With great caution, he mentioned that he brings young people from various provinces to the city of Marsa Matruh at a specific time before transporting them to Saloum.

From there, they would embark on foot through desert routes and trails, alongside the land border crossing that connects Egypt and Libya.

Despite my repeated inquiry about the age of the young individuals he helps smuggle, Abu Mazen displayed little concern for this matter.

He simply responded: “We’re in it for the money, their age is inconsequential to us.”

He chuckled and continued: “There is a significant demand for transporting young children. But what can we do? It's what their families desire!”

He clarified that the individuals who he smuggles have intentions to migrate from Libya to Europe, with the journey costing between 120,000 to 150,000 pounds.

Furthermore, he confidently stated: “Where would they go without me? My associates in Libya will handle everything!”

India and Pakistan have fought three full-scale wars since they gained independence from Britain in 1947. They’ve also had dozens of skirmishes and conflicts, including one atop a glacier dubbed the coldest and highest-altitude battlefield in the world.

The latest escalation follows a deadly gun attack on tourists that India blames Pakistan for — Islamabad denies any connection. But they don’t fight wars like other countries.

The dominant factor is their nuclear weapons arsenal, a distinct way of deterring major attacks and a guarantee that fighting doesn’t get out of hand, even when the situation is spiraling.

Here’s how — and why — India and Pakistan fight the way they do:

Their nuclear arsenals can destroy each other “Pakistan and India have enough nuclear weapons to wipe the other side out several times over,” says security analyst Syed Mohammed Ali, who is based in Islamabad, the Pakistani capital. “Their nuclear weapons create a scenario for mutually assured destruction.”

Both countries have “deliberately developed” the size and range of their stockpile to remind the other about the guarantee of mutually assured destruction, he adds.

Neither country discloses their nuclear capabilities but each is thought to have between 170 and 180 warheads that are short-, long- and medium-range. Both countries have different delivery systems — ways of launching and propelling these weapons to their targets.

The arsenals are a defensive move to prevent and deter further fighting, because “neither side can afford to initiate such a war or hope to achieve anything from it,” Ali says.

It might not look this way to the outsider, but nuclear weapons are a reminder to the other side that they can't take things too far.

But the secrecy around their arsenals means that it's unclear if Pakistan or India can survive a first nuclear strike and retaliate, something called “second-strike capability.”

This capacity stops an opponent from attempting to win a nuclear war through a first strike by preventing aggression that could lead to nuclear escalation.

Without this capability, there is, in theory, nothing to stop one side from launching a warhead at the other.

Kashmir at the crux of the dispute India and Pakistan have each laid claim to Kashmir since 1947, when both gained independence, and border skirmishes have created instability in the region for decades. Each country controls a part of Kashmir, which is divided by a heavily militarized border.

The two archrivals have also fought two of their three wars over Kashmir — a disputed Himalayan region divided between the them where armed insurgents resist Indian rule. Many Muslim Kashmiris support the rebels’ goal of uniting the territory, either under Pakistani rule or as an independent country.

Border flare-ups and militant attacks in India-controlled Kashmir have prompted New Delhi to take an increasingly tough position on Islamabad, accusing it of “terrorism.”

In the latest conflict, India punished Pakistan by hitting what it said were sites used by Pakistan-backed militants linked to a gun massacre last month.

A conventional military imbalance India is one of the biggest defense spenders in the world, with $74.4 billion in 2025, according to the Military Balance report from the International Institute for Strategic Studies. It’s also one of the world’s largest arms importers.

Pakistan is no slouch, spending $10 billion last year, but it can never match India’s deep pockets. India also has more than double the number of active armed forces personnel than Pakistan does.

While India’s armed forces are traditionally focused on Pakistan, it has another nuclear neighbor to contend with, China, and it is increasingly concerned with maritime security in the Indian Ocean. Those are two factors that Pakistan doesn’t have to consider in its security paradigm.

Pakistan's long and narrow shape, together with the outsized role of the military in foreign policy, makes it easier to move the armed forces around and prioritize defense.

A pattern of escalation and defusing Neither Pakistan or India are in a hurry to announce their military moves against the other and, as seen in the current flare-up of hostilities, it can take a while for confirmation of strikes and retaliation to surface.

But both launch operations into territories and airspace controlled by the other. Sometimes these are intended to damage checkpoints, installations, or sites allegedly used by militants.

They are also aimed at embarrassing or provoking — forcing leaders to bow to public pressure and respond, with the potential for miscalculation.

Many of these activities originate along the Line of Control, which divides Kashmir between India and Pakistan. It's largely inaccessible to the media and public, making it hard to independently verify claims of an attack or retaliation.

Such incidents raise international alarm, because both countries have nuclear capabilities, forcing attention back to India and Pakistan and, eventually, their competing claims over Kashmir.

The fear of nuclear war has put the two countries at the top of the agenda, competing with the papal conclave, US President Donald Trump’s policies, and the Sean “Diddy” Combs trial in the news cycle.

No desire for conquest, influence or resources Pakistan and India’s battles and skirmishes are away from the public eye.

Strikes and retaliation are late at night or early in the morning and, with the exception of the drone attacks on Thursday, they mostly take place away from densely populated urban centers. It shows that neither country has the desire to significantly harm the other’s population. Attacks are either described as surgical or limited.

Neither country is motivated by competition for resources. Pakistan has huge mineral wealth, but India isn't interested in these and, while there are stark ideological differences between Hindu-majority India and Muslim-majority Pakistan, they don’t seek control or influence over the other.

Other than Kashmir, they have no interest in claiming the other’s territory or exercising dominance.

A Door of Hope, Death in Libya