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!

Early Period

A thousand years ago, the region was dominated by the Sanhaja, a Berber tribe. They spread south into Senegal and Nigeria, east into Algeria, and north as far as the Rif Mountains. Abdallah ibn Yassin, the spiritual founder of the Almoravid dynasty, was from this tribe. He formed an alliance with Yahia ibn Ibrahim of the Lamtuna, another local tribe, to spread orthodox Islam. Their string of millitary victories led to the founding of Marrakech in 1070, and an empire stretching as far north as Andalusia in Spain. So a religious movement from the Sahara was responsible for one of the major turning points of Moroccan history. Later, over the centuries, the Sanhaja intermarried with Arab tribes that came into the region, resulting in the Sahrawis of today.

Colonial Period

Spain seized control of the region after a division of Africa into “spheres of influence” by European powers at the Berlin Conference of 1884. Hassan I of Morocco attempted to organize resistance to the Spanish incursion, but failed. During Spanish rule, governors were selected from prominent local tribes with the approval of the colonial administration. Each year on the Prophet’s birthday, they paid homage to the caliph of Spanish Morocco “to show loyalty to the Moroccan monarchy.” Morocco itself fell under the control of French and Spanish protectorates in 1912.

Modern Period

When Morocco regained its independence in 1956, Spain kept control of the Sahara provinces. The Polisario Front was formed in 1973 to lead an armed struggle for independence from Spain. In 1975, Spain promised the Polisario a referendum on independence, but Morocco and Mauritania went to the International Court of Justice with claims that the territory was historically theirs. Algeria opposed these claims and threw its support to the Polisario. In October 1975, the court found that the people of the Sahara had a right to self-determination. The court recognized that in pre-colonial times, certain Saharan tribes had ties of allegiance to the Moroccan sultan, but determined that these claims were insufficient to give Morocco a right to the territory.

In November 1975, as the Spanish dictator Franco lay dying, Hassan II organized the Green March, rallying 350,000 unarmed Moroccans on the southern border with the aim of peacefully occupying the Sahara provinces. Their entry into Spanish-held territory effectively dared the Spanish to open fire on them, but that didn’t happen. Instead, Spain signed an agreement with Morocco and Mauritania to divide the Saharan territory between them. Morocco would get two thirds, and Mauritania the other third. Three months later, the Spanish completed their withdrawal. Algeria continued to support the Polisario, which pressured Mauritania to give up its claims to the remaining third of the territory in 1979. Before the Polisario could move in, Morocco occupied it.

The Polisario continued their guerilla campaign against Morocco until 1991, when a UN-brokered cease-fire took effect. Since then, the battle has shifted to diplomatic channels. The Polisario has continued to demand a referendum on indepedence, in which only those families who lived in the Sahara before 1975 could vote. During the 1990s, Morocco accepted a referendum on principle, but disputed the question of who would be allowed to vote. These disputes were never resolved, so the referendum proved impossible to carry out. Shortly before his death in 1999, Hassan II decided to pursue a new strategy. Morocco would offer autonomy to the Sahara provinces, granting them the right to local self-government while retaining Moroccan sovereignty over the region.

Under Mohammed VI, autonomy has become the official Moroccan position. Morocco has withdrawn its support for a referendum of any sort, insisting that the Sahara is an integral part of Morocco. Sahrawis living on the Moroccan side of the cease-fire line have full rights as Moroccan citizens, and are free to travel anywhere in Morocco. Meanwhile, around 100,000 Sahrawis are living in refugee camps in Tindouf, just inside the Algerian border, which is also the Polisario base. Morocco views the Polisario as a tool of the Algerian generals, who seek to weaken Morocco and set up a client state on the Atlantic Ocean. Algeria denies being a party to the conflict, but it has armed, trained and funded the Polisario for more than thirty years.

In 2007, Morocco presented its autonomy plan to the United Nations. The plan states that “the Sahara populations will themselves run their affairs democratically, through legislative, executive and judicial bodies enjoying exclusive powers. They will have the financial resources needed for the region’s development in all fields, and will take an active part in the nation’s economic, social and cultural life.” The Moroccan Constitution would be amended to accommodate this new status. The UN Security Council responded by “welcoming serious and credible Moroccan efforts to move the process forward towards resolution.”

Today and Tomorrow

Mohammed VI has now gone a step further, proposing what might be seen as an extension of the Saharan autonomy plan to all of Morocco — a project he calls “advanced regionalization.” In his January 3, 2010 speech, he announced the formation a committee to report back to him in six months, with plans to devolve power from the center to Morocco’s regions. He linked this directly to the project for Saharan autonomy, saying, “We intend…to make recovered southern provinces among the first beneficiaries of the advanced regionalization. … Morocco cannot confine itself to the status quo…. We are determined to move forward in…[allowing the] Moroccan Sahara to have greater leeway in managing their own local affairs and this, within the framework of the advanced regionalization.”

The king added, “I do not want regions to be merely formal, bureaucratic entities, but rather representative institutions composed of competent officials who can run their respective regions’ affairs efficiently.” By tying Saharan autonomy to a broader regionalization project, the king acknowledged the logic that connects the two. The current system of top-down control from Rabat, if it remains unreformed, would cast doubt on the viability of the autonomy plan. But if Morocco lets its regions govern themselves within a federal system, choosing their own budgets and goals, suddenly autonomy looks much more credible. If the proposed changes are put into practice, it will be a double win for Morocco, offering a way out of the 35-year-old Saharan impasse, and providing a burst of democratization to Morocco as a whole.

Some Moroccan Views

From “The Moroccan Sahara Autonomy Explained” by Zak Ettamymy:

“For Algeria to think that Morocco will be muscled out of the Sahara is either strange imagination or wishful thinking; Morocco did not occupy a sovereign nation, Morocco did not annex a land belonging to another nation, a Sahara nation was never a reality and not even an idea. For Morocco to accept the injection of a proxy state in the 21st century is pure hallucination from the Algerian generals.”

From “Aminatou Haidar as Seen by Her Own People,” by Mohammed Beni Azza:

“Ms. Aminatou Haidar, who claims to be a human rights activist, is actually working closely with the Western Sahara separatist group, Polisario, and their backer, Algeria’s military regime. In fact, she is currently working closely with Algeria’s ambassador in Washington, Mr. Abdallah Baali, who is coordinating and funding her ‘human rights’ lobbying activities in the US. … Algeria’s current lobbying through proxies such as Ms. Aminatou Haidar and others aims to keep the status quo in the Sahara by advancing the independence as the only option. In the minds of Algeria’s strategists, keeping Morocco mired in the current situation costs it substantial resources and mitigates any resistance that Morocco would pose to Algeria’s ambition to become a regional power in North Africa. Algeria’s long-term objective is to secure access to the Atlantic ocean through a client ’state’ such as a ‘Sahrawi Republic’ in the disputed region.”

Further Reading

This 2007 article, “Western Sahara Between Autonomy and Intifada,” is one of the more balanced I was able to find. It seems to take the rightness of the Polisario cause for granted, nearly ignores the Algerian angle, and probably overstates the popularity of the Polisario among the Sahrawi themselves — but at least it has a decent summary of the conflict, in a clean, analytical style. Despite its bias, it reaches the same conclusion I have, that given the stakes held by the various players in the conflict, Saharan independence is no longer an option. As a result, it behooves Morocco to move quickly to offer Sahrawis something more attractive than the current stalemate.

That’s why I think the autonomy plan is so important. Autonomy becomes even more attractive if it can be seen as part of the movement of Morocco as a whole into an era of vibrant democracy and inter-regional cooperation. Aboubakr Jamaï recently made a similar point, in a letter from an imaginary “Sahraoui friend.” His fictional correspondant says that he wants to remain part of Morocco, but has grown more attracted to independence as democratic reforms in Morocco have seemed to stall. Let’s hope that Mohammed VI’s new “advanced regionalization” plan reignites the old sense of hope.

Do Muslims automatically vote Islamic? … When we examined results from parliamentary elections in all Muslim societies, we found [that]…given the choice, voters tend to go with secular parties, not religious ones. Over the past 40 years, 86 parliamentary elections in 20 countries have included one or more Islamic parties…. Eighty percent of these Islamic parties earned less than 20 percent of the vote, and a majority got less than 10 percent—hardly landslide victories. The same is true even over the last few years, with numbers barely changing since 2001.

True, Islamic parties have won a few well-publicized breakthrough victories, such as in Algeria in 1991 and Palestine in 2006. But far more often, Islamic parties tend to do very poorly. What’s more, the more free and fair an election is, the worse the Islamic parties do. By our calculations, the average percentage of seats won by Islamic parties in relatively free elections is 10 points lower than in less free ones.

Even if they don’t win, Islamic parties often find themselves liberalized by the electoral process. We found that Islamic party platforms are less likely to focus on sharia law or armed jihad in freer elections and more likely to uphold democracy and women’s rights. …

These are still culturally conservative parties, by any standard, but their decision to run for office places them at odds with Islamic revolutionaries. … What enrages Zawahiri and his ilk is that Islamists keep ignoring demands to stay out of parliamentary politics. Despite threats from terrorists and a cold shoulder from voters, more and more Islamic parties are entering the electoral process. A quarter-century ago, many of these movements were trying to overthrow the state and create an Islamic society…. Now, disillusioned with revolution, they are working within the secular system.

I’m a secular progressive, so I doubt I would ever vote for an Islamic party like Morocco’s Justice and Development Party (PJD), even if I could. However, I certainly support their right to be part of the political process, for precisely the reasons outlined above. Islamic parties are rarely the most popular alternative in free and open elections—and whether they win or not, their efforts to appeal to a majority cause them to moderate their views. Meanwhile, they channel the views of the conservative part of society into the political process, which is certainly better than keeping those views on the angry fringe.

Morocco’s 2007 parliamentary elections were a demonstration of this. Many observers expected the PJD to win a decisive victory, but in fact they ended up in distant second place, behind the center-right Istiqlal Party. While this seemed surprising at the time—one survey by an American organization had predicted the PJD might win 47% of the vote—it is in keeping with the long-term trends shown in this study.

Once again, let me say that it distresses me to see Muslims portrayed in the American media as extremist by nature. Taking a few highly visible exceptions and projecting them onto society as a whole makes no more sense than imagining that everyone in America is as rich as Warren Buffett. In Morocco at least, Muslims are no more extremist in their views than most Americans, and I’m convinced that the majority favor a secular approach to public policy. What Moroccans want is good governance and economic opportunity, and these are secular, not religious concerns.

Fortunately we now have a study to show what common sense should have told us already—that democracy in the Muslim world, far from being a path to religious extremism, is in fact a useful tool in helping to ensure its decline.

I think I’m “seeing Morocco” more now that I’ve stayed several weeks in one spot, with a friend’s family in one small corner of Fez, than I did in the early weeks when I was traveling all over the place, visiting large cities and isolated towns. “The more distance one covers, the less one sees” is a paradox—and so is what I’m saying now, that the crude particularities of a few people’s lives may say more about the general landscape of Morocco than all the documentaries, sociological studies, reportages and historical commentaries put together. Of course, I risk falling into what the pollsters call “sampling error” and drawing conclusions wildly out of sync with the whole; but despite the blinkered horizons of personal experience, I have the advantage of irreducibility: I know that what I’ve seen with my own eyes really does exist, while “the whole,” an illusion conjured up with words, may not.

So here are a few details I noticed today on my way to the café. In the steep spiral staircase that leads from my friend’s apartment to the street (the stairs, made of concrete, are of uneven height), a child was screaming. Last month this same child, or another, screamed for hours on end, piteously and implacably; but lately he’s been much calmer, so today was a reversion to the bad old days. At the bottom of the stairs I greeted a large-waisted matron, wrapped in a bundle of assorted fabrics, who was leaving her apartment with a tray of freshly kneaded dough on her way to the public oven. On the sidewalk outside I saw a tiny boy with a backpack one third his size, on his way home from school; a knot of customers outside a shop that sells basic staples (eggs, flour, oil, soap, bottled gas) and nothing more; and grains of wheat spread on a metal tray, left in a doorway to dry in the sun. Turning the corner I passed the same dusty yellow buildings I pass every morning (in Fez most buildings are a shade of ochre, just as in Marrakech they are a shade of rose) through a neighborhood that has nothing special about it, being neither a shantytown nor a district of villas—except that it’s home to an unusual number of car mechanics, most of them teenagers, working in primitive garages not one of which is equipped with a hydraulic lift, or any device more sophisticated than a welding torch. As I turned the last corner on my way to the café, threading my way up the alley past cars in various states of repair, an apprentice mechanic ran past me on an errand, taller than his age, gangly limbs flailing.

The café itself is the humblest in the neighborhood, with ten tables outside, another two or three in the dingy interior. Its clients are old and young men with nothing to do, petty officials reading newspapers, mechanics and vendors on their work break, and a couple of neighborhood eccentrics. At first this café depressed me because it seemed like a relic, a place stuck in time; but now I like it for the same reasons. Besides, summer is over and the paralyzing stupor of the sun has changed into something milder: a gentle nostalgia, perhaps, of the sort old men share when reflecting on the surrender of their youthful hopes. Such nostalgia may not have the dynamic ring of “democratic transition” or “sustainable development,” the slogans that are used to build the new Morocco; but it has the virtue of being authentic, and despite its sadness and regret, it is not without charm.

Yahia pointed out that there is a “hard core” in Morocco that feels like its identity is under threat from the changes brought about by modern life. Like all modernizing societies, Morocco is atomizing. Individualism is on the rise, and this threatens the traditional social cohesion based on group identity: family, tribe, and the Islamic community. A minority are prepared to react violently, trying to preserve what is threatened even with force. Yet it’s clear to me that the vast majority, even of tradition-minded people, are on the side of greater openness. They want its benefits and understand its necessity. What needs to follow is a frank discussion among Moroccans about the right balance between traditional identity and a “new Morocco” of individual rights and responsibilities. This conversation, however primitively begun, is already taking place.

One sign of this is the debate between editors Rachid Nini and Ahmed Reza Benchemsi. Nini is the editor of Al Masae, an independent journal which, in the short time it has existed, has leapt ahead of the pack to become Morocco’s most widely read newspaper by far. His opponents call him a populist demagogue, and even most of his supporters would call him a conservative force, a defender of Morocco’s traditional Arab, Islamic identity. Yet he is also known for exposing corruption and abuse of power, and as an advocate for transparent, rational government. From all evidence I would call him a democrat, not an apologist for the way things are. His role is to give Morocco’s “silent majority” a voice in the public forum, and that’s already a plus. Benchemsi is the editor of Nichane and Tel Quel, sister magazines that delight in stirring up controversy, usually by attacking some aspect of Moroccan social conservatism. He is a defender of individual liberty and secularism against the traditional social contract, which is based on Islamic values. He has defended gay rights, prostitution and the legalization of hashish, and has criticized the compulsory nature of the Ramadan fast. At times he seems to take his positions to extremes, as if seeking attention though the most controversial stance. Like Nini, he criticizes the monopolistic nature of the Moroccan state, its arbitrariness and lack of transparency. However, his critics say that he speaks mainly to a small, Westernized elite, since the liberties he defends mean little to Morocco’s impoverished majority, still mired in economic necessity.

Both Nini and Benchemsi have pushed the limits of expression in their respective journals, and both have found themselves in trouble with the law as a result. Both are expanding the bounds of public discourse compared to what went before, and both are reformers and modernizers in their own way. Yet far from being allies, a bitter rivalry has broken out between them, with each attacking the other in his columns with invective and insults. Nini loves to point out that Benchemsi gets a large part of his financial support from foreign investors, and accuses Benchemsi’s project of being fundamentally anti-Moroccan. Benchemsi retorts that Nini plays on the ignorance of his readers, stoking their fears of change into a sort of lynch mob mentality. Indeed, the readers of Nini and Benchemsi seem divided into two camps, and it is rare to find someone who admires and defends them both. However, the point for me is that despite the crudity of the debate—which shows the limits of public discourse in Morocco, and how far it has yet to evolve—the fact that it is happening is a positive sign. Morocco is far from being a fully open society in the sense of the advanced industrial democracies, but it is far from a closed one either. The diversity of views and the passions they arouse are testimony to that.

I was witness to something similar when Yahia and I rode a public bus in Tangier. The bus was half full when we got on, and the driver, an orthodox Muslim with a beard, was playing an Islamic sermon over the radio. Even without knowing the sense of the words, the tone of the imam’s voice struck me as angry, aggressive. The sermon was at full volume, making conversation impossible, so all the passengers were sitting silently. Perhaps some approved, others not; but those who didn’t weren’t saying so. Yahia sat down and opened a novel he had with him, but soon decided to get up and speak to the driver. “This is going to be a long ride, and I can’t deal with this for the next twenty minutes.” He went to the front of the bus and asked the driver to turn off the radio so he could read. The driver disapproved, but said with a smile, “I’ll do it, if you tell me what your book is about when we get to the end of the route.” So we finished the trip in silence, and once the driver had parked the bus and we were the only ones left, he beckoned Yahia to take a seat beside him. “Now tell me about your book.” Yahia had just started reading the novel, so he summarized the action so far. The driver wasn’t impressed and admonished him, “By asking me to turn off the sermon, you may have prevented my passengers from being saved from Satan. What importance can your book have, compared with the Qur’an? You can read all the books you want, but it doesn’t matter if you’re ignorant of the book that matters most, which is the word of God.”

Despite these harsh words, the conversation was friendly, and it went on for several minutes before concluding with smiles and a handshake. But when I asked Yahia to describe it to me in detail, he said it wasn’t worth it. For him it was the same old story: a question of trying to be an individual, with individual interests and tastes, in a society where ideological attachment to Islam is all too common. For him, the bearded driver was simply a representative of a general type that keeps trying to impose its one-sided views on him. But later, with distance, he came to see the exchange in a more positive light. In my view, Yahia’s decision to ask the driver to turn off the sermon was courageous. Others in the bus may have felt the same way, but he was the only one who spoke up. And the driver met him halfway, granting his request but turning it into a friendly challenge, an exchange of ideas. So each got something he wanted, and the most important thing is that the conversation took place at all, in a friendly way. That is the democratic spirit, an exchange of widely diverse views on equal ground. It shows that even if Morocco hasn’t yet found the right balance between traditional values and individual liberty, between its communal past and a more open future, nevertheless it has, within itself, the means to get there.

Not long ago, I wrote an article called “Why Is Morocco Stuck?” in which I blamed Morocco’s lack of progress on two things: “the political and economic system, and the mentality of the people.” This provoked the following exchange with one of my readers, which I think is worth reproducing here.

reader: You’re naive to say it’s the people’s responsibility. Take those magazines that always get slammed illegally but soundly by the authorities. That’s terror against a corporation, and the authorities don’t fear public opinion. So what do you think can happen to individuals put in the same situation? Simply worse.

I won’t say we’re stuck, we’re just slow. Some people just have to bear with it because change is progressive. I think you’re being naive, but also impatient. I believe that if Morocco becomes a lot better in the future, with democracy and clean streets, you probably won’t like it.

eatbees: You mention the dangers involved when individuals speak out, but my point is that people need to take this risk in large numbers, because the authorities can’t use their techniques against millions at the same time. Yet this requires a change in mentality.

For the moment, the majority accepts things the way they are. They’re ruled by “fear and ignorance” as a friend of mine says, and the authorities get their way. But African Americans in the 1950s and 1960s, or those living under communism or third world dictatorships (Chile, Philippines, South Africa…) changed things by no longer accepting the way things were, and the regime was unable to put down this new mentality.

So the situation in Morocco is first of all the responsibility of the authorities, but it’s also the responsibility of the people, because the people accept it—and in many cases, actively collaborate! As a guy I know recently put it, “The mafia is us. We’re all part of the corrupt system in one way or another. It won’t change until we change ourselves.”

I don’t know why you say, “If Morocco becomes a lot better in the future, with democracy and clean streets, you probably won’t like it.” If a traditional beach is destroyed to put in fancy apartments and cafés for the rich (and launder their money from trafficking) then it’s true I won’t like it. But if Moroccans are able to choose their own leaders and plan their own destiny, and this results in cleaner streets, better schools and a more modern lifestyle, why wouldn’t I like it?

reader: Maybe you don’t say it, but it’s what I think. I can imagine cities after getting modernized, turning to be exactly the same as Casa or Rabat, which you and I dislike.

eatbees: There’s good and bad forms of modernization. Casa has its good points and bad points. What I like there is the freedom there, and the autonomous culture among young people. What I don’t like is the chaos, pollution and lack of planning.

Too often in Morocco, modernization is what I call “bastard modernization,” which is either bricolage to serve the needs of the moment, with no thought to sustainability; or projects designed to enrich the interests of well-positioned individuals without serving the needs of the people from the bottom up.

Maybe any developing nation has to start this way. I guess the U.S. began with bricolage too, and evolved its ideas of citizenship and humanistic development later. But there have been so many theorists studying how to integrate economic development with concerns for the environment, sustainability, local tastes, and a healthy quality of life. What I’d love to see in Morocco is development driven by the choices of citizens, aided by experts, and designed for high quality over the long term. I don’t think that would turn out like Casa today!