At the bottom of the social ladder are the excluded, whom I assume to be the vast majority of Moroccan youth. They have few prospects for the future except to scrounge for a living. They have no financial independence, because their families are needier than they are and rely on the few pennies they bring in. Most in this group will never make it through high school, though some have specialized skills that allow them to make money from time to time. They include car mechanics, masons, fishermen, agricultural workers, and apprentices in the trades. They include young people who work with their extended family in groceries or in souqs. They also include drug runners, those who steal cell phones, and those who have nothing whatsoever to do. They live in shantytowns, cold-water tenements, and dirt-poor rural environments. Their hopes for the future are so low that they are desperate to seduce some Spanish girl into marriage, or get in overloaded boats to cross the Gibraltar Strait.

The next group may have issued from the same social class in the beginning, but they have managed to reach university level, and have broader ambitions. Many have supplemented their education with some private-school training, in computers, tourism, or secretarial work. This is the group that thinks most like American youth. They want to help their families and better themselves at the same time. Many work as teachers or in public administration, or on the lower rungs of the still-small corporate sector. These are the youth who work at call centers, or in big-city electronics and furniture showrooms. A few make it as freelance designers, or start small businesses of their own. Some are the first generation in their families to reach this level, while others have parents who are salaried workers themselves, and can give them a small boost. They have computers, a bit of money in their pocket, and the time to read newspapers and discuss with their friends. Their interests are broader, their tastes are more sophisticated, and most secular democrats come from this group.

The third group, the children of the elite, never have to worry where they fit in society, because their place is assured. They can get what they want through the power of connections. Whatever goes wrong for them, daddy will take care of it. They are arrogant, spoiled, and out of touch. They believe they are deserving, because everyone says so. They go to the front of the line, and public servants greet them with a smile. They are allowed to break the law, because no one wants to mess with daddy. They have mostly been educated outside Morocco. They are crudely materialistic, with fancy cars and sharp clothing. They buy expensive things because they are expensive. They start high-profile companies in media or real estate. They flaunt everything that divides them from the ordinary Moroccan, causing resentment in others, but they don’t notice this because they live in a bubble. Perhaps some of them doubt their advantages, but I can’t prove it because I have very little contact with this group.

So for the sake of our crude analysis, we have a social pyramid. Let’s say that the group on the bottom, the excluded, makes up 70% of Moroccan youth. The next group, the aspiring middle class, makes up 28%. The children of the elite are the last 2%. So where does each group stand relative to Morocco’s February 20 movement?

It should be clear that the first group isn’t happy about how things are going in Morocco. In their view, Morocco is run by a bunch of crooks. They’ve never been helped by the state, only harrassed and ripped off. But they’re pretty much out of it as far as constitutional questions are concerned. Their political consciousness is nonexistent, or limited to questions that concern them directly, like their housing conditions or medical care for their family. There is no political party that speaks to them, and they may feel that February 20 is made up of the same kind of slick opportunists. These are the people the king calls “nihilists,” because they don’t think politics is anything more than a con game. They are just as likely to be reactionary and authoritarian as they are democratic — the “baltagiyas” or regime-supporting thugs come from this group. But if February 20 could present a social platform that would improve their lives in concrete ways, it would have room for growth in this consituency.

The second group, the aspiring middle class, is where February 20 draws most of its support. This is a growing demographic that is frustrated by a lack of opportunities to match their capacities. They are educated, self-aware, and competent. They are the real future of Morocco. They want to contribute, and many of them do, through associations, cultural activities, or internet forums. They are aware of what’s wrong and brainstorm solutions. They are growing into their role as citizens, and want to be leaders, but find themselves blocked by a system that favors the well connected. They are a bridge between the excluded and the elites, because they have the grievances of the former and the ambitions of the latter. This is the group that would benefit most from change, because they are capable of much more than they can get in the present system. Critical thinking is necessary to belong to this group, and they apply it to their own case by asking, “Why not me?” A movement like February 20 is natural to this group, an example of their committed spirit. But while this demographic is growing, it is still a minority. The challenge before them is to broaden their appeal.

Finally, the children of the elite have nothing to gain from a reform movement. They have been raised to step into daddy’s shoes, and have received the best of everything in preparation. Their whole world is based on entitlement. They have received a first-class education, while the public school system is left to languish. Their expensive playthings are a consequence of daddy’s favors and kickbacks. Their status above the law would be lost in a democracy. Since they are the people whose privileges are targeted by February 20, what would motivate them to join in? Aside from a few rebels of conscience, their attitude is one of indifference. They will keep on partying right through the revolution, as seen in this video of Qaddafi’s sons, or this recent piece from Syria.

“Pool parties in the Damascus suburb of Barada are openly promoted on Facebook, inviting patrons to get ‘wet and wild’ every Friday as mosques call the faithful to prayer. [...] The fuel behind the fun is not escapism, but indifference. [...] Many of the young, fashionable crowd in Damascus and Aleppo — who have varying degrees of association with the regime — drive in fast cars with blacked-out windows and openly smoke marijuana, knowing they are above the law and resenting the ongoing troubles. [...] They have too much to lose and virtually nothing to gain and feel irrevocably alienated from their fellow countrymen.”

So what should we take away from all this? First, that the February 20 protesters do not yet represent a majority of Moroccan youth, but they have a chance to change this if they can persuade the marginalized majority that political reform can bring concrete results. The excluded class at the bottom is frustrated and angry, but they are the victim of years of social engineering designed to teach them passivity in the face of oppression. February 20 activists will have their work cut out for them if they want to connect with this group. They will need to go to Morocco’s villages and urban neighborhoods with teach-ins and community organizing. That will take time, but it represents the only potential for February 20 to expand its base and become a majority movement. Meanwhile, February 20 should expect no help from the young privileged elites, who will look out for themselves despite the taste for personal freedom they superficially share.

“Indeed, by some measures Jordan is today less free than in 1989, when its much-claimed democratic transition began. This does not, however, mean that Jor­dan’s ‘transition to nowhere’ should be framed as an example of ‘failure of demo­cra­tization.’ Instead, Jordan should be seen as an example of a ‘libe­ra­li­zing autocracy’: always ap­pearing as being in the midst of a promising reform process, but still always an auto­cracy. Those in real power are not accountable to their citi­zens and they do not aim to gi­ve up or even share their power. They are only following Lampe­du­sa’s old advice that ‘if we want things to stay as they are, things will have to change.’ Such liberalizing autocracies should not be perceived as be­ing a transitory state on the road toward democracy, but rather as a distinct and quite resilient kind of authoritarian regime.”

What techniques does a nation like Jordan (or Morocco) use to appear to be liberalizing while in fact changing nothing? One is the transfer of liberalizing functions outside the state to NGOs, which have no political power and can be easily controlled.

“Liberalization in such autocracies typically focuses on areas of special concern to international audiences which do not touch the heart of power. One of these areas is the field of civil-society…. The King has several times emphasized the importance of a dynamic civil-society and has cal­led on his fellow Jordanians to get involved in the more than 2,000 NGOs. However, this ‘civil-society promoting’ policy is supplemented by a number of subtle techniques which ensure that NGOs will not turn into a significant political force. These include the ‘Law of Societies,’ which states that NGOs must obtain licenses from the authorities and are moreover not allowed to be political or to ‘contradict with the public order.’ [...] If the de­li­be­rately vaguely-stated requirements are not fulfilled, it is possible to dissolve an NGO or put it under administration. [...] Finally, so-called Royal NGOs, wealthy associations sponsored by members of the royal family, make up nearly 60 percent of Jordan’s civil society, crowding out more indepen­dent NGOs.”

Sound familiar? This is the story of Mohammed VI’s twelve years of reign in Morocco. But what of the constitutional reforms he just proposed? That’s a real change in the balance of power, right?

“The powers of the King are defined by the con­stitution and the citizens are entitled with basic rights. However, the con­­stitution is not only written by but also for the regime. Thus, the King is given extensive powers without being accoun­table and a nominal recognition of fundamental civil liberties is often balanced by various exceptions. The King has famously stated that the ‘sky is the limit’ when it comes to the level of freedom of expression…. In reality, there are ‘red li­nes’ regarding criticism of the King, the royal court, ‘friendly nations,’ or sta­te­ments that may hurt Jordan’s international repu­ta­tion. [...]

A reflection of how it often makes more sense speaking of ‘rule by law’ than ‘rule of law’ is the Jordanian election system. On the one hand, Jordan has since 1989 — with a few exceptions — regu­lar­ly held both local and parliamentary-elections…. While being (almost) spared for simple fraud, these elections have on the other hand been regulated by means of a highly con­tro­ver­sial elec­­tion law. Due to the voting-procedure and the distribution of constituencies, the elections are ac­cu­sed of favoring ‘independent’ candidates over political parties, [and] rural tribal areas over more regi­me-critical urban ones….

See my discussion from 2007 of the Moroccan parliamentary elections, which resulted in a Parliament so fragmented that no political party, or even a coalition of like-minded parties, could muster the political strength to act independently of the Palace. At the time it was widely assumed that this was intentional, the result of political manipulations dating back to the days of Driss Basri, and perfected in 2007 by “king’s friend” Fouad Ali Al Himma, who as Deputy Interior Minister tinkered with the election laws before being elected to Parliament himself! — where he formed the Party of Authenticity and Modernity (PAM), now Morocco’s largest political party.

Incidentally, in rereading the piece just now, I found this eerily prescient suggestion of what it would take to see real political change in Morocco:

“Could groups at the left end of Morocco’s political spectrum, like the PSU or the Marxist-Leninist Annahj Addimocrati, ignore their differences with Islamists like Al Adl Wal Ihsane and the Mustapha Ramid faction of the PJD, to work together on their common goal of constitutional reform? Such a marriage of refuseniks would be fascinating if it happened, but of course it won’t.”

At the time it seemed frankly crazy, but that’s what is happening now, thanks to the February 20 Movement. Anyway, back to Jordan:

“Although the par­lia­ment, according to the King, is ‘a main pillar of political work in Jordan’ and it nominally consti­tu­tes the legislative power, it does not hold any political significance and it is marked by surprisingly little political debate. Real politics takes place in the royal court, whereas the par­lia­ment is pri­ma­ri­ly an instrument for the distribution of patronage among loyal supporters of the regime. Thus, 80 percent of Jordanians think that their MPs primarily serve their own financial interests and only 4 percent state that the primary function of the parliament is to legislate and to check the government. [...]

“As real power and politics are situated in the royal court, the role of the government is prima­rily to implement decisions taken elsewhere. Usually the prime minister and his team are reshuffled once a year as part of a never-ending elite-circulation, where members of the elite re­vol­ve between the royal court, the government and the parliament. In this way, the emergence of [an] alternative basis of power with [its] own client-networks is avoided. Their loyalty is at the same time maintained as they remain within the inner-circles with the pri­vi­le­ges this implies.”

How well these words fit Morocco — which perhaps not incidentally, the West has traditionally grouped with Jordan as one of the “moderate, reforming” Arab states — along with Tunisia and Egypt!

So how will constitutional reform play out in Morocco? If everything else sounds familiar, maybe this will, too:

“[It] becomes clear why Jordan is not an example of a ‘failure of demo­crati­za­ti­on’: democratization was never the real intention, so nothing has failed. Rather, the Jordanian story should be grasped as the ‘success of (a par­ti­cular upgraded form of) autho­ri­ta­ria­nism.’ The Hashemite regime has managed not only to stay firmly seated without any significant opposition, but Jordan has also been suc­cessful in leaving the impression among inter­natio­nal donors… and the US pre­sident apparently, that the coun­try is on the ‘right track’ toward democracy. [...]

“This ‘success’ does how­ever come at a price. It has given rise to a political culture marked by politi­cal apathy, wide­spre­ad cynicism to the official reform-lingo and a disillusion about the possi­bi­li­ty of making changes through the official political institutions. [...] Against this back­ground, it is natural to question if Jordan is on the right track….”

The king only summarized the new constitution in his speech, and the full text has not yet been made public. But at first glance, it seems that the king is keeping about 90% of the powers he already had.

The king’s person will no longer be considered “sacred” but rather “inviolable.” He will remain the spiritual head of Morocco’s Muslims, in a Morocco defined as a Muslim nation. He will remain the head of the armed forces, with sole authority to appoint and command its officers. He will retain the right to name the “walis” and “bashas” who are the true regional government, although elected regional governments will gain new powers under the new plan. He will retain his right of veto over the Interior Minister, who is responsible for Morocco’s police and security services, and he will continue to control Morocco’s foreign policy by appointing ambassadors. He will remain the head of the council that appoints judges, though the judicial branch will gain new independence. He will remain the “symbol of Moroccan unity” and the “referee and guarantor” of Moroccan stability. The main area in which the king has ceded some authority is by giving the Parliament sole responsibility for initiating legislation and running the business of government. The Prime Minister, an elected official, will be designated Head of Government, but the king will remain Head of State.

The king, presenting this project as a uniquely Moroccan form of democracy and the only way forward for the nation, called strongly on all Moroccans to vote “Yes” in the referendum to be held in just two weeks. He himself in his role as citizen plans to vote “Yes,” he announced. And then, once Moroccans overwhelmingly vote “Yes” as expected, the nation will continue its slow march to democracy under the benevolent guidance of the king. End of story.

But what of February 20, the youth movement that prompted all this talk of reform in the first place? Will they be satisfied with the new constitution? Perhaps we should wait for an official response, but I can hazard a guess. First, February 20 was already calling for a “No” vote even before the details of the new constitution were announced. In their view, any constitution that is “made to order” as this one is, rather than issuing from an assembly of the people, is illegitimate. Further, the new constitution falls far short of their key demands, namely a king who “reigns but does not govern” and a state whose economic, military, foreign policy, and domestic security institutions are under the control of elected officials.

This could lead to a standoff at some point down the road, between a governing class that wants only tepid reforms, and a youth movement demanding fundamental change. The fault rests, in part, with the political parties, who participated in the recent consultations with a remarkable lack of courage and imagination. The Arab Spring with its revolutions and uprisings opened a window to go much further, through a frank and open exchange of views on all the essential questions. Moroccans have the civic spirit to engage in such a debate peacefully, and achieve true popular consensus on a new system. With the proposed new constitution in which things change only to remain the same, I fear that window is closing.

UPDATE: Najib Chaouki, a February 20 activist from Rabat, made this statement to the AFP (I’ve translated it from the French):

“The national coordinators have called for demonstrations on Sunday for a truly democratic constitution and a parliamentary monarchy. The project as it was proposed by the king yesterday doesn’t answer our demands for a true separation of powers. We will protest peacefully on Sunday against this project.”

Ahmed Mediany, an activist from Casablanca, had this to say:

“The religious status of the king has been greatly strengthened. It’s very unsettling. [...] The king preserves the essence of his powers as a political actor. We weren’t expecting that. We are disappointed.”

“When a society remains stable for a long time, the majority who obey its rules are its anchor and its strength — hence the term ‘solid citizens.’ But when a society is in flux and its conditions are changing, the old adaptations no longer work, and it is likely that those at the fringes, the outcasts and eccentrics, will discover qualities that had previously been shunned but are now eminently useful for the survival of the community — precisely because they are eccentric by the common definition, and thus in closer proximity to the new, emerging reality. In this way, those who had been despised become the new heroes, due to their possession of qualities which had never before been put to the test.”

I couldn’t help but be reminded of this when I read an article in Time by Ahmed Benchemsi, the celebrated editor of Nichane and Tel Quel who has gone on to greener pastures in the U.S.

“For several years, groups of Moroccans have been using the power of social media — as well as the ability to attract the conventional media — to clamor for the freedom of belief, sexual liberty (notably for gays) and other individual freedoms that had until then been unthinkable.

“The country’s conservative majority was suitably horrified, but the young activists were able to rally growing constituencies among human-rights advocates, leftist groups and the middle-class youth. Even so, the core group of renegades continued to be perceived as little more than a bunch of crazy kids — until they and their sympathizers spearheaded the most powerful wave of change since the kingdom’s independence, half a century ago.”

The activists of the February 20 movement are pioneers of something new in Morocco, a breach in the silence. Now things are debated in public that were spoken of only within one’s intimate circle just a few months ago. If the movement has one central demand (and it does), it is a reexamination of the state from the ground up, since the people can only be governed with their consent. The challenge to the existing order is fundamental, and now that it has come out in the open, it can never be wished away.

Naturally this causes discomfort to tradition-minded folks, who worry that it will open the Pandora’s box of fitna, or division. “Don’t go there,” they say. “It will only bring trouble.” No matter what humiliations they may have endured in their lives, they imagine a society in chaos and fear it could be worse. Can the Moroccan people truly govern themselves? Can donkeys become men? No one has tried it before, so it is a leap into the unknown. Better the misery they know than to risk the impossible.

On February 20, the day of the first protests, I was shocked when I left my apartment to discover that a nearby square, usually a bustling hub of fruit stands, pastry shops, and sandwich restaurants, was shut up tight. Even the next day, our neighborhood grocer wouldn’t open his shop all the way, but stood outside with the gate down until clients passed by. I laughed at this, because it was such an overreaction. Far better to benefit from the extra business the protests would bring! It’s true that there was a night of mayhem in some of the outlying districts of the city — car windows broken, a bank branch burned — but this had nothing to do with the protests themselves. It was opportunistic hooligans who came in after the marchers had gone. In any case, all the marches since then have gone off without a hitch, unless it was the forces of order themselves who broke the calm.

It’s true that the shopkeeper class must believe that daily life would be better off without such troubles. These hardworking folks barely make enough as it is, and the loss of a day’s business is nothing to shrug off. My friend Zakaria wrote a report from the scene of the April 29 march in Casablanca, which took place (by design) in a popular neighborhood rather than in the city center. This was the march that produced the startling video, now famous, of police clubbing a mother who was just a bystander, as her little boy runs away in panic. Zakaria reports that even before the march began, the attitude of some local shopkeepers was hostile, and the authorities did their best to stoke these fears.

“[A few hours before the protest, a friend told me] ‘Zakaria, I was out for a walk and I noticed there are many secret police and the worst is that some inhabitants are going to submit complaints at the police station against the Feb 20 movement.’ Later, when we arrived to the neighborhood we realized that local authorities represented by ‘mukadem’ and ‘sheikh’ (very low officials) were asking shop keepers and cafés owners to do that claiming that their commercial interests were damaged because of the previous protest. Local authorities as I know from my friends who live in the neighborhood were also asking those people to display signboard on their shops on which they wrote, addressing the Feb 20 movement: ‘get out of our neighborhood,’ ‘who asked you to speak on our behalf,’ ‘don’t get into our affairs’ and such.”

Obviously, no one wants to see a running street battle in their neighborhood. In this case the battle was one-sided, as the video shows — police on foot or on motorcycles, wielding batons, thrash out almost at random, as their prey do their best to run away or evade the blows. There are two possible reactions from local residents who were caught up in events. The first is to blame the protesters for bringing these troubles to their streets. If there had been no march, there would have been no confrontation, and that mother and her child would have gone unmolested. The other response, perhaps more logical, is to blame the source of the violence, the baton-wielding policemen. If the state keeps acting like this, it will expose a brutal and thuggish side which is already well-known to Moroccans from years of unhappy experience. Those who thought the tiger had changed its stripes in recent years will be disabused of their fantasies. But whether you blame the protesters or the authorities, the choice is a painful one. Either you admit that you live in a country where those charged to protect you are capable of turning their batons against women and children, or you bear the burden in silence because you fear social division. This choice already existed before February 20, but the marches are bringing it into the open. Many will blame the protesters at first, but that could change.

I put it to Zakaria in this way:

“Those who are agitating for change must accept that many people, even the majority, will in the beginning see what they are doing as disruptive, as an unnecessary attack on the social order. But the social order isn’t good in itself, but only insofar as it delivers other, greater goods — like justice and prosperity, for example. So a social order that isn’t providing these goods must be challenged, even torn, before it can be remade in a better way. The test for the people is to weigh the price of change against the price of things staying as they are. Either one is painful, and the activist offers them this painful choice. So he is seen as disruptive, and is blamed for the problem — but the problem was already there, he just exposed it. Eventually, if the activist is right, people will calculate that the pain is greater in staying the same than in changing, and they will decide to change. But in the early stages, the activist must endure being seen as the cause of the pain.”

Does this sound like the quote from the top of this piece, about those who are seen as “outcasts and eccentrics” turning out to be heroes? I think this is the root of any struggle, not just political ones. We could be talking about jazz music, or the invention of the PC. Extraordinary conditions require extraordinary responses, and those who go where others will not, learn those responses before the rest. As I said in my last piece, by shedding the constraints of political parties and recognized leaders, February 20 activists are exposing themselves to more risk, including the risk of being hated, for now, by the shopkeeper class. But they are also learning techniques of networking, collective planning, and communication that will be invaluable in a new, democratic Morocco. They are a democratic mutation, which must seem strange to many Moroccans who have never seen such a rare bird — but they would be completely normal in the streets of New York, Barcelona, or Paris. They are an essential part of what democracy means, and Morocco will never be democratic without them.

A few observations from Syria, a far harsher crucible, may provide some encouragement.

Not having a formal, organised, political opposition that can give voice to the protests was initially frustrating and extremely frightening for many Syrians, yet it was also quite liberating. For one thing it has shown that young and old Syrians are capable of taking control of their own destinies without the stale political opportunists and parties of the past….

Young popular committees, deep underground in Syria, are liaising and organising among themselves. They are getting their voice to the outside world…and they have learned and adapted remarkably quickly….

Syrian activists are beginning to find their own voice outside of the anachronistic players that have defined Syrian politics for a generation. As that voice gets stronger, the chance of a fresh new vision for Syria becomes ever more likely.

A movement without a clear leadership may be disconcerting to the authorities in both places, because they aren’t sure who to deal with to contain the dissent. It may also be a sign of broadening popular support. If the demands of either movement could be channeled through a few leaders, it wouldn’t be a popular movement. Conversely, if the demands are coming from the people themselves, there is no way to contain it except to engage the people as a whole.

Said Benjebli, president of the Association of Moroccan Bloggers, describes the group (from an interview in Afrik.com):

“Our movement is secular and our members come from very diverse backgrounds. Atheists, socialists, Amazigh, secular… everyone is represented in our association. We are above all free and we operate in a democratic manner. …

“We cannot insult religions. Whether it’s Muslim, Jewish, Christian or otherwise. Within our association, we are able to differentiate between criticisms and insults. We of course encourage criticism, but we neither insult people nor what is sacred. Regarding homosexuals, I have backed some in the past. I have no problem with that. I think they have every right to express themselves, to run a blog or a website. … This is to tell you that we respect everyone and remain open to all trends.”

Regarding the National Dialogue on Media and Society:

“This initiative comes from the very top. Jamal Eddine Naji, the coordinator, is a close friend of the King. He was commissioned by the ruling party, Authenticity and Modernity Party, to impose the state agenda without taking the opinion of journalists into account. …

“If it is a dialogue, it is being done without the real actors of the electronic media. They instead want to keep the press at bay, impose their rules, impose electronic censorship and muzzle it. I personally received an official invitation. I attended two of their meetings, once as a representative of the association of bloggers and another as a journalist. But once they realized that we were serious, that our proposals were credible, they discredited us by calling us fundamentalists to silence us. So we steered clear.”

Regarding the climate of blogging in Morocco generally:

“We live in a constant state of arrests and releases. … It is true that there are no laws that regulate the blogosphere to guarantee the right to free expression. However, what the authorities are looking for is a way to censor blogs. They have the means to put pressure on the media — through printing presses, distribution agencies, etc. — but blogs are difficult to censor. That is why the authorities are severe with bloggers.”

I met Said Benjebli last summer, when by coincidence I was in Casablanca on the same night as a meeting of the Association of Moroccan Bloggers. I attended by invitation from blogger Mounir Bensalah, and the photo above is from that occasion.

I have a few questions. They aren’t rhetorical questions, these are things I’m genuinely not sure about.

• Granted that 2009 wasn’t a great year for freedom of expression in Morocco. I could list the cases here, but others have done that. Said Benjebli isn’t alone in fearing that the Moroccan authorities are turning away from their earlier promise of greater freedoms. But is it possible that the recent wave of criminal prosecutions is, paradoxically, a result of those greater freedoms? Perhaps they are growing pains as journalists and bloggers test the limits, and the state struggles to define its new boundaries?
   
• Should a bloggers’ association be focused primarily on defending the rights of bloggers who test the limits, or does it have a broader constituency? I would certainly want such a group backing me if I were a Moroccan blogger who unknowingly ran afoul of the famous red lines. On the other hand, I can’t help feeling that there are infinite creative ways to express ourselves, without directly taking on the state in areas where it feels most insecure. Technology, education, history, the arts, the economy, philosophy, social science, and religion are all domains of self-expression that aren’t necessarily political. By defining bloggers as journalist-activists who test the political limits, is the association scaring away, rather than promoting, other worthy forms of self-expression?
   
• What are the right limits on freedom of expression? Surely we’ll agree that no right is absolute. Even in the U.S., a phone call to a Congresswoman threatening to torch her house, or an active-duty soldier calling on his fellows to disobey the president’s orders, will earn the attention of the authorities. Those may be extreme cases, but where do we draw the line? The Moroccan state has the right, even the duty, to protect its territorial security and social stability. If certain forms of expression are seen as a threat, it can pass laws to restrict them. We may disagree with those laws, as I have in the past, in which case we have two choices — lobby to change them while continuing to obey them, or break them consciously to show they are unjust. The second choice, civil disobedience, involves accepting the penalty as a form of protest. So what are the right limits on freedom of expression in Morocco? Should bloggers be allowed to write literally anything? What should the state do when bloggers go over the line?
   
• As a developing country in a troubled world, Morocco has its share of problems. However, when I look around me, I see a diverse population, a growing economy, and young people with a lively creative imagination. It pains me a bit to see reports of Morocco slipping back into a dark age of heavy-handed repression, because that doesn’t jibe with what I see around me every day. So let’s assume for a moment that Morocco is moving forward, but in a two-steps-forward, one-step-back kind of way. Sometimes we’re made painfully aware of the limits on progress — and yet progress is being made. What is the best way to promote self-expression in such a context? Where will it do the most good?

UPDATE: Hisham of Al Miraat has published an interview on Global Voices with blogger Bashir Hazzam, who was sentenced to four months in prison for blogging about a demonstration in the southern town of Tarhjicht. He was released on Feburary 8, two months after his arrest, partly due to interntional pressure. He explains his views about blogging this way:

“I discovered the world of blogging when I was a student. I came across a number of blogs and realized that blogging enables people to publish their ideas easily, without control and for free. I liked the idea so much that, after a brief research, I ended up creating my own blog…. The blogosphere enabled me to exchange views and ideas and communicate with many bloggers and writers from around the world. … What happened will not affect me. Despite the arbitrary detention, I kept my writing style intact. It will not affect my thoughts or my views. … I would invite people to take advantage of technologies offered by the Internet to highlight their skills and talents, and express their ambitions and aspirations through blogging, so as to break the systematic marginalization imposed by authoritarian states, especially on the youth.”

The three “terrorist” stations are carried on the two largest satellite providers in the Middle East, NileSat of Egypt and ArabSat of Saudi Arabia. Between them, NileSat and ArabSat offer hundreds of stations, most of which show cheesy movies, game shows, and cartoons for kids, as well as the official state programming of the various Arab nations. This resolution, known as H.R. 2278, would require NileSat and ArabSat to block any channel the U.S. labels as terrorist, or see themselves labeled as supporters of terrorism. The resolution still needs to be approved by the Senate and signed by the president to become law — it is currently before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee chaired by John Kerry. So there is still time for Washington to come to its senses, but it should be clear that by issuing such a heavy-handed demand for censorship, Congress has sent exactly the wrong message to the Arab world.

Al Manar is the voice of Hezbollah, which besides being an armed resistance movement against Israel, is a political party active in the Lebanese government. Al Aqsa is linked with Hamas, also a resistance movement and the de facto government of the Gaza Strip. Al Rafidayn is an Iraqi station described by the Open Source Center, an arm of the U.S. intelligence community, as a “pro-Sunni, anti-U.S. Iraqi channel believed to be affiliated with the Association of Muslim Scholars.” Of the three, only Al Rifadayn could remotely be accused of “incitement to violence against the United States,” since it supports resistance to the American occupation of Iraq. There is a blurring of lines here between “terrorism” and legitimate resitance — a difference which is in the eye of the beholder. None of these stations supports random acts of violence against civilians, such as suicide bombings or kidnappings, which is the usual definition of terrorism. All provide legitimate news services to the population. And the target of resistance for both Al Manar and Al Aqsa isn’t the U.S. at all, but the state of Israel.

I’ve watched Al Manar here in Morocco, and while they have their share of pro-resistance propaganda — scenes of heroic battles from the 2006 Lebanon War, accompanied by patriotic songs — they are also a news source with high standards of professionalism. In fact, they were the only ones providing on-the-ground coverage during the Israel–Lebanon conflict — even Al Jazeera used their footage — and it was through their station that I became aware of the devastation Israel was raining down on a beleaguered nation. Perhaps that’s what bothers the U.S. Congress. It’s certainly what bothers Israel. Henry Lamb, an American lawyer living in Lebanon, who seems to be the only one writing in depth about H.R. 2278, cites a “Washington DC observer” on the motivations behind the proposed law.

“Regarding Al Manar it’s personal for Israel. The reason is that Al Manar did to the Israeli government propaganda machine during and following the July 2006 war what Hezbollah fighters did to Israeli troops. Al Manar kicked butt. That station must be made to disappear. The plan is to stop the 15-20 million daily viewers of Al Manar from receiving its transmission and well as to intimidate all the other Middle East TV channels that are suspected of moving toward the growing ‘Culture of Resistance’….”

In another article, Lamb praises Al Manar’s “reputation for accuracy, thoroughness and objectivity and getting the latest news on the air fast.” Speaking of the tragic crash of an Ethiopian airliner in Beirut on January 25, he adds:

“As Lebanese woke to the news this morning an estimated 80% of the population is thought to have turned into Al Manar at least once sometime between the hours of 7 am and 11 am, as they and the region regularly do during war or crisis. … Al Manar was the first Lebanese station to give the most details…. Ironically, staff at the American Embassy, and surely the large contingent of CIA agents here, almost certainly sat glued to Al Manar to evaluate what really has happened. [If H.R. 2278 becomes law] US officials may be deprived of this reliable source of information.”

During a recent visit by Senator John McCain, Lebanese president Michel Sleiman asked “that Washington backtrack on its decision to ban certain television channels, including Al Manar,” according to an official statement. Meanwhile Nabih Berri, the speaker of the Lebanese parliament, sent a letter to U.S. Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi denouncing the proposed law.

“[The bill] harms the principles of freedom of expression and civil rights, and leads to further complication in relations. … This bill represents bypassing to the sovereign national laws of the targeted countries, among them Lebanon which is a free ‘Hyde Park’ for the Lebanese and Arab satellite ‘public opinion’ media channels. … Therefore, the bill issued by your Congress undermines our sovereignty as well as the sovereignty of many countries….”

Lebanon is proud of its diversity of opinion, which is the thread holding society together after a generation of civil strife. The above statements show that Congress, in its hastily considered attempt at censorship, has united the entire Lebanese political class in protest — not just Hezbollah, a political movement the U.S. still labels “terrorist,” but the elected government as well, which Washington supports.

But there is another dimension to the problem, namely the excuse that H.R. 2278 gives to Arab nations with reasons of their own for censoring opposing views. Chief among them are Egypt and Saudi Arabia, which coincidentally or not, are home to NileSat and ArabSat, respectively. Egypt has been ruled by Hosni Mubarak, known as “the Pharaoh,” for 28 years under martial law. Saudi Arabia is the home of Wahhabism and the obscenely rich Saudi royal family. Both have a history of silencing domestic critics, and both are sponsors of an Arab League proposal to monitor TV stations in all its 22 member nations.

The Arab League first discussed a satellite TV charter back in February 2008, but the recent action by Congress has given new momentum to their plans. On January 24, 2010, Arab information ministers met in Cairo to discuss the proposal. According to Reporters Without Borders, the plan would set up an “Office for Arab Satellite Television” to ensure that stations “respect the ethical standards and moral values of Arab society” and “no longer serve as fronts or outlets for ‘terrorist’ organisations.” In a statement, the Paris-based watchdog group warned of the potential for abuse.

“The danger is that this super-police could be used to censor all TV stations that criticise the region’s governments. It could eventually be turned into a formidable weapon against freedom of information.”

Anthony Mills of the International Press Institute issued a similar warning.

“The International Press Institute is wary of efforts to engage in that kind of monitoring particularly given the record of most, if not all, Arab Middle Eastern countries on press freedom. It’s an example of states in the Arab world using the notion of security to in fact monitor and stifle independent reporting.”

The influence of H.R. 2278 can be seen in two of the stations mentioned by Reporters Without Borders as targets of the new plan — Al Aqsa and Al Manar — along with the plan’s emphasis on “terrorism.” However, as Daoud Kuttab shows in a 2008 article, the original motivations have little to do with “terrorism” or “incitement to violence.” Arab governments simply want to shield themselves from an increasingly independent and critical media universe.

“[Arab information ministers] have been gradually losing power to the satellite stations. For some time governments have been resigned to the fact that the rich and elite will have access to alternative information coming from satellite but the poor masses will continue to be spoon fed through the terrestrial stations. But as the prices of satellite dishes have become affordable to the poor masses, and as the satellite stations have cut deeply into the audience of national broadcasts, the alarm bells started to sound and the ministers of information increased their meetings hoping to find a regional solution to this problem. …

“Couched between clauses that prohibit broadcasting obscenity, pornography and scenes encouraging smoking, the charter calls for ‘Abstaining from broadcasting anything that would contradict with or jeopardize Arab solidarity….’ It also calls for ‘abidance by objectivity, honesty and respect of the dignity and national sovereignty of states and their people, and not to insult their leaders or national and religious symbols.’

“The strange notion that politicians are somehow immune from attack, that leaders are not to be insulted or that the satellite broadcasters are obliged not to jeopardize Arab solidarity is nothing short of censorship.”

It’s clear that by taking up the issue just one month after the passage of H.R. 2278, the Arab League is doing its best to defuse to the claims that NileSat and ArabSat are enabling “terrorism.” However, it’s equally clear that they were given an excuse to do what they want to do anyway — rein in stations whose independence is a thorn in their side. One indication is that along with Al Aqsa and Al Manar, Reporters Without Borders names Al Jazeera as a target of the proposed “super-police.” Al Jazeera is the most popular news channel in the Middle East, and the only one with an international reputation for journalistic excellence and independence. They have reporters around the world, even providing excellent coverage of the 2008 American presidential elections. Their investigative reporting is provocative, as are their discussions with public figures and intellectuals. They are an indispensible actor in the move toward greater freedom of expression in the Arab world.

Some in the U.S. seem to have the impression that Al Jazeera is a jihadi station that shows nothing but suicide bombings and tapes from Osama bin Laden. Nothing could be further from the truth, and it is frankly insulting. People in Morocco rely on Al Jazeera to get an independent perspective on what is happening in their own country, and I’m sure the same is true in other Arab nations. This forces the official state channels to compete in a world where they are no longer the sole source of information. This makes them uncomfortable, and forces them to get better if they want to retain credibility. Meanwhile, Al Jazeera has earned its reputation. They aren’t pushing an agenda. They simply provide balance to Western networks like CNN and the BBC by showing what the world looks like from a perspective outside the West. This can be refreshing, even for an American.

Congress did not name Al Jazeera in H.R. 2278, but the Arab League is using the resolution as an excuse to pressure the station. After all, they hold the power. If Al Jazeera were denied access to NileSat and ArabSat, it would vanish from TV screens across the Middle East. This recently happened to another station that annoyed Saudi Arabia, Al Alam of Iran. When Saudi Arabia got involved in a Yemeni civil war that its propaganda blames — falsely — on Iran, it pressured Egypt to kick Al Alam out of the NileSat lineup. Since ArabSat is controlled by Saudi Arabia, there was no problem there. The station went dark across the Arab world, upsetting my friend’s aunt who liked to watch it daily because “it tells the whole truth.” She also likes Al Manar, also for its independence. What business does Congress, none of whose members have ever watched an Arab news channel, have telling my friend’s aunt that she likes “terrorist” TV?

The Arab League is divided on the “super-police” proposal, with Egypt and Saudia Arabia as key sponsors, and Qatar and Lebanon strongly opposed. Al Jazeera is based in Qatar, where it began as a project of Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa, so Qatar is defending its own interests there. We’ve already seen that the Lebanese political leadership is ready to defend Al Manar on the grounds of national sovereignty. So it comes down to a test of wills between two nations, Qatar and Lebanon, who are pioneers of Arab media diversity, and two others, Saudia Arabia and Egypt, who represent state censorship and control. Guess which side the U.S. Congress is on? And isn’t it ironic that around the same time Hillary Clinton made a big speech defending the “freedom to connect” on the internet, Congress should be demanding that Arab states use their authority to pull independent media off the air?

Thanks to the generosity of one of my readers, I’ve been nominated for the 2010 Best of Morocco Blog Awards in two categories, best news blog and best overall blog.

Check out the Morocco Blogs website, and vote for me or any of your favorites. At the very least, you’ll discover some great blogs, including several who’ve become my friends over the years.

Morocco Blogs periodically reviews English-language blogs about Morocco, with a sample post from each one. They reviewed my blog here.

When I started in 2006, there were just a handful of bloggers writing about Morocco in English. Now there are culture blogs, travel blogs, personal blogs, blogs about news and politics — both by Moroccans and other by lovers of Morocco.

Voting is open for a whole month, until Feburary 21, and nominations are still open for now as well. Good luck to all the nominees!