Walking Barefoot: The Urgency of a Political Awakening in Morocco...
117
The current Moroccan context is intense, though not unprecedented. Morocco has experienced others before. The protests shaking several cities across the Kingdom, notably led by the collective GenZ 212, are not mere mood swings. They reflect a deep, multifaceted, and long-contained social anger. Inspired perhaps by youth movements seen elsewhere, these protests are rooted in a distinctly Moroccan reality: a young, connected, educated people but disillusioned with a system they believe no longer meets their expectations. This anger is multiple and undeniably legitimate, voiced on behalf of all generations.
The demands focus on recurring but now explosive themes: fighting corruption, the deterioration of certain everyday public services like education and healthcare, the crisis of unemployed graduates, and dangerously widening social inequalities. To this is added a direct critique of the government's economic priorities.
This youth, which no longer identifies with official rhetoric, expresses a new demand: a fairer, more transparent, and closer government. It calls for alignment between political speech and public action. This is not a depoliticized generation as some would like to think, but a generation that rejects pretenses and technocratic answers. It practices politics on the internet, often without realizing it. It speaks the language of everyday life: the price of chicken, healthcare, transport—not inflation rates or macroeconomic indices. It expresses itself through clicks, avatars, emojis, and stickers. It writes Darija in Latin letters and numbers. It seeks information quickly, responds instantly and succinctly. It dislikes long speeches it finds tedious. It lives in a globalized world but proudly claims its Moroccan specificity.
When a citizen complains about the price of tomatoes, it's not an indicator’s graph or an IMF report that will reassure them; they speak in dirhams, not percentages.
So what else can be done if not for decision-makers to walk barefoot from time to time? Walking barefoot means returning to reality. It means feeling the country.
In this tense climate, the metaphor of the late Hassan II inviting architects to “walk barefoot to feel the country” takes on a striking resonance. Originally meant to emphasize understanding Morocco’s soul before building, it has become a political imperative today.
Walking barefoot means stepping down from one’s pedestal, leaving air-conditioned offices, abandoning PowerPoints and slogans to listen to the ground. It means accepting to feel the dust of rural roads, hear the cries from saturated hospitals, share the despair of teachers, or the loneliness of unemployed youth.
They must understand what a “two-speed Morocco” means, denounced by His Majesty King Mohammed VI himself. Part of the country lives in modernity, connected and optimistic, visible in infrastructure projects and international forums. The other, the majority, struggles with precariousness, poverty anxiety, neglect, and injustice. The gap between the two is widening. It is precisely this gap that the current protests expose.
A few years ago, hope was born for a new development model, requested by His Majesty the King himself. What is its status today? Where is this model and its recommendations?
The New Development Model (NDM), much praised at its launch, seems today to have been lost within bureaucratic and communication labyrinths. Its ambitions were high: reduce inequalities, strengthen social cohesion, encourage initiative. But on the ground, Moroccans hardly see the fruits. It has simply been forgotten.
The prevailing impression is one of an increasing gap between promises and reality, between triumphant speeches and citizens’ daily life. This disenchantment is not only economic but also moral: trust is eroding, public discourse is losing meaning.
Youth has forever been the moral compass of nations. It says out loud what others think quietly. The youth mobilization acts as a salutary shock.
The movement is not monolithic: it unites students, unemployed youth, young workers, artists, teachers. But all share a common feeling: having been sidelined by a political and economic system that offers no prospects.
This youth does not attack their country; it wants to save it from a threatening drift. It demands social justice, dignity, and respect. It wants not only to be spoken about but to be spoken with.
It is a call for a rebuilding of social and political bonds, for genuine and sincere listening. The biggest mistake those in power could make is to underestimate this anger, or worse, to despise it. In a world where frustrations are expressed online before hitting the streets, ignoring youth voices sets the stage for a worse crisis.
The urgency is to rediscover the spirit of this millennial country. Today, walking barefoot means returning to essentials:
- Visiting village schools where children lack everything,
- Visiting hospitals where some doctors perform miracles with nothing, but others are absent or resting after working elsewhere,
- Listening to mothers who struggle to feed their families,
- Understanding youth who refuse to live waiting for an administrative miracle.
A country is not governed by PowerPoint slides, reports commissioned from foreign agencies, or promises crafted for social networks. It is governed with an awareness of reality, with the sense of the people, and the will to fix what hurts.
Morocco has often proven its ability to overcome crises by reinventing itself. It still has the human, cultural, and institutional resources to do so. But this requires a change of perspective, a reconciliation with the truth on the ground, and a renewed political humility.
Walking barefoot means reconnecting with deep Morocco, the Morocco that suffers but also hopes. It also means telling citizens hard truths when it errs and when it is itself the cause of its own misery. Walking barefoot means pushing young people to work and innovate. Only on this condition can social peace, national cohesion, and the country’s future be guaranteed.
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An Illusory Return
262
An Illusory Return
The morning breeze foretells the return of my beloved,
After leaving me for so many years.
If she truly comes, it will be at noon
At least, that’s what she told me.
The morning breeze foretells the return of my beloved,
After leaving me for so many years.
Could it be a premonition?
Will she really come back to me?
Or is it a pious wish,
A dream of a time long gone and faded?
Yet everything seems to foretell her return
On this break of day:
A blue sky, bright and clear,
A sun rising early, strangely so,
Majestic unusually radiant.
The moon takes its leave discreetly and all the better for it.
The morning breeze foretells the return of my beloved,
After leaving me for so many years.
I tremble and waver in my corner like a child,
I cry out in enchantment,
I can no longer keep still
I lose all sense.
A swallow lands upon my balcony,
As if to show me its sympathy.
The morning breeze foretells the return of my beloved,
After leaving me for so many years.
Time stops
it feels like eternity.
The ticking of my watch falters, losing its rhythm,
The hands seem frozen, stretched apart.
I hold my breath,
I can hardly breathe, I’m suffocating,
Sweat pouring from every pore,
My head spinning, my sight blurred.
The morning breeze foretells the return of my beloved,
After leaving me for so many years.
Suddenly, the morning breeze ceases.
I sense that she is not yet ready.
The sun vanishes like a sorcerer,
Hiding behind the clouds.
The moon peeks through now and then,
As if to mock his retreat.
The ticking of my watch resumes its old rhythm,
The clock hands blend together enchantingly.
I catch my breath again,
Regain my composure,
Put my jacket back on,
Recover my reason,
And stop asking questions.
I am convinced she will not return today
She has not kept her word, as always.
I shall wait for another breeze,
On another morning,
That will once again announce her return.
Until then
I’ll go out for a walk.
Dr. Fouad Bouchareb
Rabat, October 26, 2022
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The GenZ212 Letter: A Quest for Recognition and Royal Protection...
299
Far be it from me to amplify the so-called letter from a collective claiming to represent GenZ212, but it is necessary to acknowledge that it deserves a critical reading and analysis to understand both its explicit and implicit content.
Psychologically, the appeal to "express a need for recognition" is evident: the very act of addressing His Majesty the King directly reflects a search for symbolic validation. The authors seek to feel heard and to exist in the public space. The use of frustration language in their grievances conveys an emotional charge, mixing disappointment in economic, social, and identity challenges with aspirations for a better future. The letter reveals a tension between ideal and reality, illustrating a typical psychological divide of this generation: high ambition and demand but also fragility and a sense of powerlessness in the face of structural blocks. One can see a projection onto a paternal figure: His Majesty the King is viewed as the ultimate arbitrator, the supreme recourse, implicitly demanding protection and repair, which intermediate institutions have failed to provide.
Sociologically, this is a generation searching for collective identity: the very name GENZ212 (212 being Morocco’s telephone code) reflects a claim of group identification, no longer just as isolated individuals. This highlights an emerging generational consciousness amid distrust towards established structures. The letter reveals criticism of the state, political parties, unions, and traditional institutions seen as disconnected from youth realities.
This youth evolves in a world different from previous generations, using digital tools as leverage. The preference for direct channels (social networks, petitions, public letters) over traditional mediation reveals a sociological shift in collective action modes, underpinned by social and territorial inequalities. The grievances likely illuminate fractures in education, employment, housing, social mobility, access to culture, and health. These themes reflect a society where youth feel the social elevator blocked, aligning with the general sentiment and sadly overlooking many progress made.
Politically, the letter acts as a symbolic contestation. Addressing His Majesty directly can be seen as implicit criticism of governance and intermediaries, bypassing classic political channels. It raises questions of legitimacy: GENZ212 does not speak for all Moroccan youth but claims to represent them, raising issues of representativeness and possible political co-optation.
It is probably a signal to decision-makers: if institutional dialogue channels remain closed, youth may permanently turn away from institutions and radicalize their discourse.
The positive point is a genuine bet on the future. By turning to His Majesty the King, they place trust in the royal authority to drive structural reform, a sign both of loyalty and failure of democratic mediations.
The letter also invites critical reading of style and tone. The style is direct but sometimes naive. It adopts a frank, often unfiltered tone typical of young generations used to spontaneous expression on social media, blogs, or videos. This gives authenticity but sometimes sacrifices argumentative rigor and credibility. The tone oscillates between respect and defiance.
The text addresses His Majesty with marks of deference while openly criticizing society and the state. This dual register expresses tension and hope: wanting to challenge political leaders while remaining within the bounds of monarchical loyalty.
Use of collective vocabulary (“we, the youth,” “our generation,” “the country's future”) shows a desire to speak on behalf of a community. However, the overemphasis sometimes feels more emotional than programmatic. The language is symbolic and identity-focused, with no clear prioritization of grievances. The claims are listed as frustrations without clear structuring into priorities or concrete proposals. Thus, it is more a plaintive tone than strategic approach.
The style is hybrid, mixing activism and advocacy, revealing hesitation between a militant manifesto and a petition addressed solemnly and respectfully to the supreme authority. This perfectly reflects a generation still finding its discursive register, convinced like its elders that improvements must come through the nation’s chosen and defended framework.
The style and tone reinforce the letter’s heartfelt character: sincere, emotional, and collective. However, they suffer from lack of rhetorical maturity (weak structure, redundancies, slogans rather than solutions). Politically, the remarks aim to symbolically touch and spark public debate.
The GenZ212 letter is thus a hybrid act combining psychological distress, sociological claim, and political gesture. It highlights:
- A feeling of exclusion and marginalization among youth,
- A need for recognition and direct listening,
- A questioning of intermediaries,
- A strong expectation towards the monarchy as guardian of justice and a radiant future.
Ultimately, the GenZ212 letter is a quest for recognition and royal protection.
It is worth noting that the phenomenon is not unique to Morocco and arrived through osmosis as it exists in many parts of the world. These movements are often amplified by digital platforms, turning isolated frustrations into collective mobilizations despite geographical or cultural differences, development gaps, and democracy levels. It is also important to note the proximity of manipulation and nihilistic speech impact.
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He thinks....
458
He thinks....
He thinks that in his nailed hands
I'm nothing but a toy.
I don’t think I’ll go back to him.
Today, everything has changed
As if nothing had ever happened.
And with the innocence of angels from the skies
in the look in his eyes,
He tells me: I am the keeper of this place,
And that I am his one true love.
He brought me flowers.
How could I not accept them?
And all the naivety of youth
I found again in his gentle smile.
I no longer remember... the fire in your eyes.
How did I find myself in his arms?
I laid my head on his chest, proud,
Like a child returned to their father or mother.
Even my long-abandoned dresses
danced at his feet, all of them.
I forgave him… and asked how he had been.
And I cried for hours under his armpit.
And without thinking, I gave him my hand,
So it could sleep like a bird in his.
And I forgot all my hatred in a fraction of a second.
Who said I held a grudge against him?
How many times did I say I’d never return?
And yet I came back.
My return is wonderful.
To my first love.
Dr. Fouad Bouchareb
All rights reserved
Toulouse, May 29, 2025
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He thinks....
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GenZ 212: the Imperative of a New Political and Social Pact...
483
In a Morocco pulsating with change, a new breath sweeps through its streets and squares. Imagine, for a moment, the gaze of a young person walking down the avenues of Rabat, their heart filled with an unshakable conviction: that their country must urgently rewrite its destiny, redefine its governance, and above all, give its youth the place they deserve, as builders worthy of their dreams.
This Morocco, once proud of its 2011 Constitution born of a hopeful protest movement, now seems mired in suffocating practices that fuel frustration and stagnation. So many promises inscribed in that text have gone unfulfilled, so many provisions willfully forgotten. The demanding youth, thirsty for justice and inclusion, feel this deeply. For them, it is experienced as a painful fracture.
The world is accelerating with a relentless rhythm, and that fracture is palpable everywhere: nearly 30% of Moroccans are under 30. Yet key decisions are made in the shadows, far from their aspirations, in the hands of aging elites clinging to power, elites who lack humility and bristle at lessons from the younger generation.
The divide also runs through the youth themselves. Many passionate young activists, full of innovation, openly reject recent disturbances. “We do not want to be represented by incompetents, troublemakers, or those who tarnish our cause,” they assert firmly. Yet the feeling of exclusion burns in their words: “We are the future, the Morocco of tomorrow, yet we are pushed to the margins; our voices remain unheard.” Parliament, regional councils, political parties, impenetrable strongholds, all hold the keys to change tightly. How, then, can genuine reform be hoped for?
Faced with this reality, the dream of profound overhaul goes far beyond mere formal adjustments. It calls for a genuine institutional leap, one that fully includes youth and neglected territories. Among the proposals are the reintroduction of generational quotas in assemblies to guarantee tangible representation, lowering eligibility ages to inject fresh air into politics, and creating consultative bodies where young voices are not just background noise but concrete levers for action. Ironically, the Youth Council envisioned by the Constitution, a space meant for unity and expression, remains a dead letter after three successive governments.
Health and education issues have only served as detonators. The discussion quickly expanded into another battle: resistance to regional suffocation. Centralization, that stubborn relic, continues to strangle territorial potential. The promised regionalization of 2011 has never delivered the political and financial autonomy necessary for each region to become an independent engine of development. It is probably time for regions to truly decide their own paths, manage their resources, and drive their own projects, including in health and education. Far from weakening the Moroccan nation, this would strengthen it.
At the heart of these debates lies a fundamental demand: national sovereignty built on inclusion and trust. In a fragile world fraught with economic, climatic, and geopolitical crises, Morocco must reinforce legitimacy through participation and justice. Was it not Mahdi Elmandjra who said, “A country that ignores the potential of its youth has no future”? Today, more than ever, a new social pact must emerge, based on justice, shared responsibility, and genuine participation.
This youth, driven by unprecedented energy, has rediscovered courage. Rooted in history and loyal to the monarchy, it dares to envision a Morocco turned toward tomorrow. Democracy is no longer an abstract luxury, it is the sine qua non for sustainable development and a harmonious society, the key to forever breaking down the wall of a two-speed Morocco.
This awakening Morocco calls for revising political mechanisms, an essential opportunity to build a fairer, more inclusive country where young people become masters of their destiny. They no longer identify with traditional models. They do not simply *live* on the internet, they *build* their professions, their world, their culture, and their lives there. Their universe is called Discord, TikTok, Instagram. It is not only a playground, but an exposed space where joys and frustrations are expressed, and where manipulation lurks.
It is time for everyone to realize: this movement is irreversible. It moves in rhythm with a world in perpetual, exponentially accelerating change. We must accept it, fully embrace this deep transformation, and understand that **GenZ212** simply demands a new political and social pact.
At the same time, this same GenZ212 must not overlook that today’s living conditions are far better than those of their parents, and even more so their grandparents, and that the country’s development indicators are largely positive, with a spectacular decline in poverty rates. Morocco is producing elites at a remarkable pace and now needs investments, reforms, and economic dynamism to absorb them. This transformation is underway, and it is the role of politics to explain it.
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The Parental Home
537
The Parental Home
My parents’ house is permanently closed.
The doorbell remains curiously silent.
There is no longer Mom to welcome me with open arms
and her wonderfully legendary smile.
There is no longer Dad to tell me about his many travels,
to share his famous jokes
and give me advice about my job and career.
There are no more magical smells coming from Mom’s kitchen,
making my mouth water
in anticipation of a good feast
and delicious dishes
of which only she knew the secret.
My parents were so proud to see me become a doctor.
They had no idea that once they became ill,
I would be the one watching over them and their unfortunate fate!
Since their passing, the peaceful atmosphere that reigned in our home is gone.
There is no more joy of living.
And, so to speak,
even the hands of the wall clock have stopped moving.
And the swing has ceased its endless back and forth.
No more tick-tock,
no random music.
There are no more heated debates between my brothers and sisters,
debates that only Dad had the art of settling
with wisdom, favoring no one.
He taught us how to discern things,
to compose poetry, verses, and prose.
He amazed his audience
with his funny stories.
Now, there are no more guests in the house.
A divine silence reigns, like a sacred communion.
Time first suddenly stopped on October 3rd, 1996.
It froze forever on December 5th, 2018.
From now on, I am left only with prayers,
that their souls may rest in peace.
Dr. Bouchareb Fouad
Agadir, August 21st, 2022
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Wealth inequality as a question of Inflation and Taxation
661
Wealth inequality has been periodically rising up at the forefront of political discussions since 2008: almost 20 years now. With the same seemingly smart analysis pointing out that wealth inequality results in social unrest, often terminating with the "solution" of taxing the rich. First of all, although it does seem that wealth inequality leads to social unrest today, it's not at all a historical fact, when historical societies with massive wealth inequality have persisted for centuries. This raises the question of political manipulation and instrumentalisation. It also points out to a material switch in the moral compass that occurred more than century ago. Fruit of a materialism Zeitgeist that colored of all the "isms" of the era: Capitalism, Marxisim, Socialism and Communism ideologies, etc.. . All raised materiality has a moral imperative. Above kindness, honesty, generosity, honor, and the rest of the set of virtues that humanity has recognized for ages.
When inflation rises the value of assets compared to money increases. It means that, as money devalues, if you own land, stocks, businesses, and things of the sort, you do not get to be richer, but you get to keep what you have. This is what is commonly referred to as "the transfer of wealth" to the richest. It's not a transfer at all, the word "transfer" suggests that wealth is being taken from the population at large and given to the richest. What is happening is that the asset of most people is "Money / Currency". This is a devaluating asset by design (the inflation rate set by central banks), and the more it devalues, the less it is worth compared to everything else.
Then there is taxation. Taxation disproportionately affects people who derive their income from good paying salaries. . When adding up all taxes indexed on their salaries and the indirect taxes, their tax burden can be over 60%. These are historically high numbers, nowhere near the taxation levels of asset owners, or the low salaries earners. It means they don't even get to keep half of what they made. These incredibly high numbers also hinder the capacity of the most productive members of the population to acquire assets, start businesses, and over all participate into the economy to their full extent.
In comparison, the lowest payed workers. However they are disproportionally affected by indirect taxation and consumption taxes (ex: VAT). That represent a higher percentage of their income.
The most direct solution to reducing wealth inequality, is not to make the richest poorer. It's to make everybody richer, and the shortest path to do that is to get rid of inflation, lower the tax burden on salaries and, have a very low or even no consumption tax. It seems obvious, let people keep most of what they make so that they attain higher levels of material wellbeing doing what they already do. And make sure that their savings do not lose value over time.
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Candomblé
1038
Candomblé is an Afro-Brazilian religion rooted in West and Central African traditions that took shape in Brazil through enslaved Yoruba (Ketu/Nagô), Fon (Jeje), and Bantu (Angola/Congo) peoples. It is based on living relationships with the orixás (Jeje: voduns; Angola: inkices)—deities of nature and human experience—each with their own colors, rhythms, foods, stories, and temperaments.
Ceremonies take place in a terreiro under the leadership of an iyalorixá or babalorixá, supported by ogãs (ritual musicians/guardians) and ekedes (female ritual attendants). Through singing, drumming on atabaques, dancing, and strict ritual etiquette, devotees cultivate and circulate axé (sacred vitality). The three main drums-rum. rumpi, and lê-have specific patterns for each orixá, and liturgical songs usually preserve Yoruba and Bantu words that transmit theology and history.
During the ceremonies, the orixás may “take over” (sometimes called mounting) initiated mediums in spirit possession, bringing counsel and healing to the community. Offerings and sacred foods are prepared with rules of purity and respect; initiation is a long apprenticeship involving seclusion, ritual shaving (raspagem), obligations, and the building of one’s personal relationship with patron orixás. New initiates (iaôs) receive sacred objects and taboos (quizilas) that guide daily life and protect their axé.
Divination—often performed using cowrie shells (jogo de búzios) or Ifá—guides decisions, diagnoses imbalances, and prescribes ebós (remedies/offerings). Many houses historically masked orixás with Catholic saints to survive persecution, yet Candomblé maintains its own theology, ritual language, and ethics. Each “nation” (Ketu, Angola, Jeje, and others) keeps distinct musical styles, liturgical languages, and ritual aesthetics while honoring common principles.
The religion values humility, reciprocity, care for elders and initiates, and practical service—healing, protection, and community solidarity. Terreiros keep pejis (shrines) and sacred trees, and many lead environmental and social projects as an expression of respect for the natural forces embodied by the orixás. Public festivals mark the calendar with processions, communal meals, and songs that celebrate the houses’ lineages.
Today Candomblé thrives across Brazil and the diaspora, adapting to modern life while safeguarding initiatory secrecy, ritual precision, and the dignity of African-descended wisdom. Despite ongoing prejudice, legal recognition and cultural pride have strengthened terreiros, allowing them to teach, serve, and preserve traditions for future generations.
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The 4 Choices of Morpheus and what it teaches about human psychology
1083
An iconic scene from an iconic movie. Two men sitting face to face in a abandoned hotel. Each one on a red leather, luxurious Chesterfield-style armchair. A ridiculously small coffee table between them. The scene is dimly lit and outside a storm is raging.
The move Morpheus speaks and the more Neo leans forward. Enthralled by the story, by the mystery being revealed.
Morpheus leans forward, extending his hands:
"This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. You take the blue pill—the story ends; you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill—you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. Remember, all I'm offering is the truth. Nothing more."
Slowly he opens each hand, revealing the translucent pills.
Take the blue pill an stay as you are, take the red pill and attain gnosis. Knowledge of the true reality of things. The deal is irresistible.
However, as there seem to be only two choices. In reality there are 4: take the blue pill, take the right pill, take both pills and take none.
The last two did not occur to Neo, as they did not occur to the audience. The scene, the monologue is perfectly crafted. With his words and delivery Morpheus created a box for Neo's mind and the audience. A limited set of reality in which to think.
We will never know what would you have happened if Neo had just walked away.
Morpheus was selling the red pill, and he executed the prefect sell.
Thinking outside of the box often means refusing to get boxed-in in the first place.
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My Street
1105
My Street
It belongs to me
It’s part of my daily life
It’s a kind of identity and bond
I love the name of my street, and that’s fine
It wasn’t named for nothing
My street is called Hablmlouk
And it’s not just any name
Yes, it’s called Cherry Street 🍒
It’s beautiful and exquisite
It reminds me every moment of Sefrou
My hometown
With ancestral roots
It enchants me from all sides
And for me, above all
That’s enough
It’s better that way
Dr. Bouchareb Fouad
May 18, 2020
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My Street
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Love
1145
Love!
Love is a destiny We hardly choose the moment to love
It happens one evening or one morning
It happens by pure chance
It leaves you confused and haggard One day when you least expect
it You didn't see
it coming from afar
It happens in the blink of an eye... Without an appointment...
It makes you soft...
It makes you lose your mind...
It makes you run away from home Like fire,
it burns you with passion Love at first sight is legion
You'll get your share,
your ration Without logic...
But it's beautiful despite everything we endure
It's a pure feeling When it's sincere It's magical
It's fantastic Despite its pains and sorrows, its sleepless nights Until morning
It's the elixir of life It's endless ecstasy...
It happens to you by magic...
Content in loving takes you away from everything...
It besieges you from everywhere!
It takes over!
It will drive you crazy sooner or later!!!
Dr. Fouad Bouchareb El Medano / Tenerife August 24, 2025 Inspired by a text by Jalal Eddine Erroumi Arabic and Arabic All rights reserved
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Love
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Recognition of Palestine: Historic Gesture or Too Late?
1286
The decision this week by several Western powers to recognize the State of Palestine could have been hailed as a founding moment in contemporary history. Coordinated and announced almost in unison, it seems to mark a decisive milestone in a conflict that has torn the Middle East apart for more than seven decades. Yet, between symbolic significance and concrete impotence, this gesture raises a dilemma: is it an act that will make history or a missed opportunity due to its tardiness? A recognition long awaited and especially delayed for numerous reasons, more or less understandable.
Since the proclamation of the State of Palestine by the PLO in 1988, at the behest of the most alert Arab countries, with Morocco leading the way, marking the transition from an armed struggle bordering on terrorism to a reliable entity, a political interlocutor and partner, more than 140 countries, mainly from the Global South, have taken the step of recognition. It is the Western powers, particularly European ones, that were slow to align. Yet, their political, diplomatic, and financial weight could have, in the 1990s or 2000s, influenced the intense negotiations then underway and given substance to the two-state solution promoted by the Oslo Accords.
By choosing to act today, in a context where the prospect of a viable Palestinian state seems more distant than ever, many facts having shifted on the ground, the Western powers appear to recognize more the legitimate cause of a people than they make it effective. The Oslo Accords have been bypassed and are now worthless. What remains is the symbolic weight of recognition.
However, it would be reductive to minimize the significance of this gesture. In the diplomatic arena, official recognition could be a major symbolic weapon: it would confer additional legitimacy to Palestine, strengthen its positions in international bodies, and create a political precedent. For Israel, it sends a clear message: the patience of its traditional allies may have eroded in the face of the deadlock of the status quo and the continued expansion of settlements in particular.
Unfortunately, it also reveals Western impotence.
Beyond the symbol, the reality remains harsh: Gaza remains under siege, the West Bank fragmented, and East Jerusalem under constant tension.
Without coercive mechanisms, without economic or diplomatic pressure, these announcements risk remaining a moral signal rather than an instrument of transformation. In other words, the West writes a declaration in history but without real control over its course, even though it is decisions by this same West that are at the origin of the extremely dramatic situation in the region.
So, what will we talk about after time has taken its toll? Has the West marked or missed history?
The recognition of the State of Palestine by these Western powers remains an important diplomatic step but also reveals a paradox: it comes at a time when the solution it was supposed to endorse seems more distant than ever. To make history is to act when action can change the fate of peoples. To miss it is to settle for observing, too late, what history has already decided.
The ambiguity is there: this is a gesture heavy with symbols but weak in concrete effects, and above all, a meeting probably too late to have the historical impact it could have had two or three decades ago.
It remains to address the Palestinians themselves: The numerous militant factions attached to unsavory causes and ideologies should cease their harmful game and all should align around an intelligent and achievable line. Palestinians should seize the opportunity with pragmatism and especially independence in their way of understanding, seeing, and acting. Perhaps this is the condition for these recognitions to weigh on the course of history.
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My Generation
1397
I come from a generation that never knew electronic tablets. Our tablets were wooden boards, where we copied verses from the Quran, learned them by heart, and recited them before the fqih. A single mistake meant the sting of a stick, followed by the laughter of classmates.
We never begged our parents for toys. We built them ourselves—rolling bicycle rims with a stick for handlebars, imitating the roar of engines with our mouths, or crafting skateboards from wood and ball bearings. Our games were simple but endless: hide-and-seek, marbles, spinning tops.
We did not need private lessons. Our teachers were masters of their craft, teaching with passion and devotion. We discovered poetry, crossword puzzles, and the joy of words at an early age. Respect for elders was a rule, and care for the younger ones a duty.
Holidays were not for travel but for small jobs that earned us coins to buy books—Camus, Hugo, Balzac, and others that today’s youth rarely open. We lived fully in the real world, untouched by the virtual.
Our joys were simple: an old movie at the cinema, a homemade sandwich of tomatoes and peppers, afternoons at the public pool, or slipping into a football match just before the final whistle. One black-and-white TV channel was enough, and a transistor radio was a treasure.
We kissed our parents’ hands, respected teachers and policemen, shared our scholarship money with siblings, and saved schoolbags and textbooks for years. We listened to our grandmothers’ tales in the dark, our imaginations weaving monsters, heroes, and enchanted princesses.
We knew the Solex, the 2CV, the Dauphine, the R8. We wrote letters and waited for the postman as if he were a hero. Pocket money came only at Eid, and our first driver’s license only after our first paycheck. We grew up running errands, carrying bread to the oven, water from the fountain, groceries on credit in the neighborhood shop.
We learned values the hard way—through discipline, slaps, and the watchful eyes of parents, neighbors, and teachers. Elders were always right. We listened more than we spoke.
That is why my generation is so different from today’s. We are often misunderstood, dismissed as outdated—even by our own children. Yet I cannot help but feel that those who never lived what we did have truly missed something.
Dr. Fouad Bouchareb
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My Generation
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