In a small conference room of a hotel in Villaquilambre, near the northern Spanish city of León, a group of Sub-Saharan African men joyfully plays bingo. Laughter fills the air, but behind their smiles lie heartbreaking stories. One of them is Michael, a Ghanaian asylum seeker who fled his homeland after brutal violence claimed the lives of his father and sister. His perilous journey took him through Morocco and across the treacherous waters to the Canary Islands, where he found hope and safety. “I was so happy because I knew all my troubles were behind me,” he reflects.

As a petrol pump attendant and aspiring human resource management student in Ghana, Michael sees his new life in Spain as a golden opportunity. “Spain is one of the most respected countries in the world,” he expresses, hoping to continue his studies once settled.

Currently, around 170 asylum seekers reside in the hotel designated as a migrant center, representing just a fraction of the over 42,000 undocumented migrants who have reached Spain this year alone, marking a staggering 59% increase compared to the year before. This influx highlights both a humanitarian crisis and an ongoing political debate. The far-right Vox party in Spain often labels this migration as an "invasion," igniting tensions around the issue.

Yet, amid these discussions, there lies a significant potential for economic contribution. Spain is facing a pressing demographic challenge: an aging population. Javier Díaz-Giménez, an economics professor at IESE Business School, warns that a "baby boom" from the mid-1950s to late 1970s has led to a looming retirement crisis, as many in that generation are now approaching pension age. Projections indicate that within the next two decades, approximately 14.1 million people will retire.

To combat this labor shortfall, Professor Díaz-Giménez suggests that Spain could adopt economic strategies similar to those in Japan, which has faced similar low birth rates. However, another path exists: embracing immigration as a means to sustain economic growth. “If you want to grow GDP and sustain pensions, immigration must be part of the solution,” he argues.

The Spanish central bank corroborates these concerns, estimating that the country will require roughly 25 million immigrants over the next three decades to meet labor demands. In recognition of these needs, Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez has publicly endorsed immigration, stating that migrants signify “wealth, development, and prosperity.” His government is currently pushing for legislation to legalize the status of up to 500,000 undocumented migrants, primarily from Latin America, following a historical precedent of mass regularizations in Spain.

However, public sentiment in Spain paints a mixed picture. A recent poll reveals that 41% of Spaniards express significant concern about immigration, ranking it the fifth most pressing issue after inflation, housing, inequality, and unemployment. Only 9% see immigrants as contributors to economic progress, while a substantial 57% feel there are too many migrants.

In Villaquilambre, efforts to integrate newcomers into the workforce showcase a path forward. Asylum seekers are permitted to work six months after their arrival, with local NGOs like the San Juan de Dios Foundation actively facilitating this transition. They emphasize language acquisition and provide necessary training, making it easier for migrants to find employment aligned with their skill sets.

Dolores Queiro from the foundation notes, “Companies reach out to us because we have people eager to work.” This proactive approach not only helps asylum seekers but also addresses the increasing labor shortage faced by numerous industries in Spain.

As Spain grapples with demographic decline and economic uncertainty, the narrative surrounding immigration will remain crucial. Will the nation embrace the potential of these individuals as vital contributors to its economy, or will fears and political rhetoric prevail? The answer could very well shape the future of Spain in the years to come.