Think Forward.

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Benguerir in 2045: How UM6P Turned Morocco into a Global Innovation Powerhouse 289

Aziz Daouda, 1 d.
- Politics - Science - Society -
2.7 min read.
Last night I had a dream. A wonderful dream. It is 2045: the center of gravity for innovation has shifted. It has moved to the Kingdom of Morocco, an exceptional North African country. When CEOs of multinationals, tech investors and government officials try to understand the new dynamics of the global innovation economy, one name keeps coming up: Benguerir, Morocco. Less than two hours from Casablanca and about an hour from Marrakech, linked to both by an ultra‑fast train, this medium‑sized town — once a bus stop where travelers stopped for skewers and mint tea — became in twenty years one of the planet’s major technology hubs. Even more surprising: by 2045 it is regarded as the leading innovation ecosystem on the African continent. At the heart of this transformation sits Mohammed VI Polytechnic University (UM6P), an institution envisioned by King Mohammed VI himself. This success did not spring from a single public program or from traditional industrial policy. It resulted from an ambitious strategy: to make the university the central engine of Morocco’s economic, technological and entrepreneurial development. The era of infrastructure is over For decades many countries tried to reproduce Silicon Valley by pouring money into technoparks, industrial zones or incubators. Most failed. UM6P understood early on: innovation does not arise primarily from buildings. It arises from interactions. The most successful ecosystems rest on an exceptional density of relationships between researchers, entrepreneurs, investors, large firms and public decision‑makers. Silicon Valley is above all a concentration of interconnected talent. The designers of Benguerir 2045 grasped this reality. After hurrying to build a real tech park, they created an environment where the boundaries between university, business and market gradually disappeared. The entrepreneurial university as an economic model The first revolution was cultural. From the mid‑2020s, UM6P — never intended as a conventional university that separates teaching, research and economic activity — implemented several measures: - Researchers were encouraged to found companies. - PhD students received training in entrepreneurship. - Students were allowed to replace some academic projects with startup creations. And naturally, by 2045: - Over 40% of tenured faculty hold equity in at least one innovative company. - Nearly one student in five starts a company before graduating. This permeability between research and market accelerated the conversion of scientific discoveries into commercialized innovations. The reform that changed the game The real turning point was institutional. From 2027, following the September 2026 elections, Morocco enacted a series of reforms fully integrating its economy into global flows of capital, knowledge and talent: - Progressive removal of administrative barriers to international investment. - Simplification of financial transfers. - Modernization of the regulatory framework. In short, a favorable environment for innovation was established. For the first time, a startup created in Benguerir could raise funds in London, sell to Singapore, recruit in Nairobi and invest in Brazil with the same ease as an American or European company. Geography ceased to be a constraint. The market became global from day one. From an export economy to a creative economy Early‑21st‑century Morocco based its competitiveness on industrial exports, agriculture, phosphates and infrastructure. Morocco in 2045 rests on a different logic: value now derives primarily from intellectual property. Patents, software, algorithms, biotechnologies, advanced materials and digital platforms now account for a major share of generated wealth. The country is no longer merely a successful manufacturing site. It has become a place of design, a place where tomorrow’s world is imagined. Africa as the laboratory of the future UM6P chose not to copy Silicon Valley. It focused on Africa’s major challenges: - Water - Energy - Agriculture - Health - Education - Climate resilience - Mobility The innovations developed for Africa proved relevant to much of the world facing similar problems. Solutions imagined in Benguerir are now used in Latin America, South Asia and the Middle East. Global talent magnet By 2045: - More than a hundred nationalities are represented on the UM6P campus. - American researchers collaborate with Nigerian entrepreneurs. - Indian AI specialists work with Senegalese agronomists. - European investors finance startups founded by Moroccan students. This diversity became a strategic asset. Talent moves to where opportunities are greatest. Benguerir succeeded in becoming one of those places. Lessons for policymakers The Benguerir 2045 experience shows three conditions necessary to build a global innovation ecosystem: - Put the university at the center of national economic strategy. - Encourage free movement of ideas, talent and capital. - Create a culture that rewards experimentation more than conformity. The true engine of innovation remains the quality of human interactions. From periphery to center For a long time Africa was seen as a market of the future. In 2045, thanks to Benguerir’s initiatives, it has become a territory of creation. UM6P has shown that an African university can transform knowledge into companies, jobs, technologies and global influence. The nations that will dominate the 21st‑century economy will not be those with the largest natural resources, but those that succeed in turning knowledge into innovation and innovation into prosperity. And in that global competition, Morocco chose to start from its university to build its future. Silicon Valley pointed the way. Benguerir invented its own. 2045 is less than 20 years away… One of the professors mentioned above has even won the Nobel Prize… Let us dream.

The real task for Morocco: rebuilding trust... 923

Aziz Daouda, 6 d.
- Politics - Society -
3.1 min read.
As elections approach, debates often focus on economic growth, employment, investment, social protection or large infrastructure projects. All these subjects are essential. Yet behind each of them lies a more fundamental, deeper — and perhaps more urgent — question: that of trust. Populists, great masters of deceit, understand this very well. Their popularity and success are inversely proportional to the level of trust. They overplay and excel at the role of victim or at offering simple, easy solutions, thereby sowing doubt among citizens and eroding their trust capital. Nihilists also profit and add another layer. The citizen who doubts and loses confidence becomes an easy mark. Some politicians, through irresponsibility, naivety, incompetence or clumsiness, also contribute — by their narratives — to eroding the trust capital in the social project and, beyond that, in the institutions themselves. It is therefore legitimate today to ask the question with the utmost seriousness. The near and long‑term future of the country and of future generations is at stake. And yet Mohamed Ouahbi and his teammates offer us a new dynamic, a new value: self‑confidence, trust in who we are simply. How do you explain being so dominated for one half and then finding the resources to overcome the handicap, transform yourselves and score three times? What if the real task for Morocco in the coming years were simply that of trust? Trust is an invisible capital but one that is extremely essential. It does not appear in any budget and cannot be measured in kilometers or billions invested. Yet it constitutes the pillar of any collective success. Hakimi, Díaz, Talbi, Mazraoui, Bounou, Ounahi, Rahimi and the others demonstrated that to us. Without it, the best public policies produce limited results. With it, even the most complex challenges become surmountable. Today, it must be acknowledged that Moroccans primarily place their trust in the royal institution, which remains, for a large majority of citizens, the main anchor of stability, continuity and hope. This reality represents a considerable strength for the country. But what about trust in other institutions? Do citizens fully trust their health system? When families still have to turn to the private sector despite financial difficulties, the question deserves to be asked. Do they trust their education system? When many parents try by all means to enroll their children in private schools, sometimes at great sacrifice, this often reflects doubt about the public school’s ability to deliver the hoped‑for social mobility. Do they trust the judiciary, the administrations, political parties, local authorities, or certain local products? Again, answers are nuanced and vary according to individual experiences. It would be unfair and incorrect to generalize. Morocco has made remarkable, even exceptional, progress in many areas. Infrastructure has been modernized, public services are digitizing, social coverage is expanding, universities are multiplying, hospitals are developing and many civil servants carry out their duties with competence and dedication. But despite these advances, a diffuse feeling of mistrust remains present in part of society. Even the most optimistic citizens can sometimes doubt their future or that of their children, while no nation can sustainably build its development on distrust. Economic history shows this: successful countries are often those where citizens trust their institutions, their rules and their prospects for the future. The Nordic countries are a frequently cited example. High levels of trust in the state, schools, justice and public services encourage respect for rules, civic engagement and acceptance of reform. In Asia, countries like South Korea built their economic transformation not only on investment and education, but also on strong collective adherence to a shared national project. Conversely, when trust erodes the consequences are multiple: civic disengagement, electoral abstention, brain drain, an informal economy, corruption and retreat into individual survival strategies at the expense of the collective project. Trust creates and nurtures a sense of belonging. It makes people want to participate, to build, to invest, to share and to stay. A young person who believes in their country will be more inclined to develop their project there. An entrepreneur who trusts the institutions will invest more. A citizen who believes in the fairness of the system will more readily accept their fiscal and civic duties. The challenge is therefore immense. It is not merely a question of communicating more or multiplying slogans and lies, as some do. Trust is built through tangible results. It is built when public schools offer the same opportunities to all. It is built when public hospitals treat with efficiency and dignity. It is built when competence is rewarded and recognized. It is built when public services respond quickly to citizens’ needs. It is built when officials are held accountable and promises are kept. On the eve of the elections, political parties would do well to place this question at the heart of their platforms. Beyond sectoral promises, Moroccans expect a contract of trust. The real issue is not only which project will be presented to citizens. It is whether citizens will believe enough in that project to commit to it. Morocco has considerable assets: its monarchy, its stability, its youth, its geographic position, its infrastructure, its strategic vision and its international ambitions. But to turn these assets into lasting power, it must strengthen that invisible bond that ties citizens to their country. The task of rebuilding trust is surely the hardest of all. But it is also the most decisive. For when a people gains or regains confidence in themselves, in their institutions and in their future, they become capable of achieving what once seemed impossible. It is at that price that the Kingdom will recover its long‑dormant greatness. Thanks to our national team for reminding us that trust is the most precious capital.

"Send Them Back": the day the European Parliament applauded xenophobia... 1042

Aziz Daouda, 7 d.
- Politics - Society - Lifestyle -
2.5 min read.
There are sometimes images that alone sum up an era. That of Members of the European Parliament, elected to defend the founding values of the European Union, chanting in chorus "Send them back!" at the end of the vote authorising member states to expel migrants to centres located outside European territory will remain one of the most disturbing. This slogan, borrowed from the bluntest vocabulary of nationalist movements, goes far beyond the fight against illegal immigration. It does not only target people in an irregular situation. In the imagination of part of the European far right, it designates everyone unfortunate enough to be different: Africans, Arabs, Amazighs, Latinos, Muslims, refugees or simply foreigners. In a few words, a vision of Europe expresses itself: a closed, suspicious Europe obsessed with the purity of its borders. The worst thing is not that this rhetoric exists — it always has and will probably continue to exist. The worst thing is that it now finds an echo inside the European Parliament chamber, with the complicity of traditional right‑wing parties that, out of electoral opportunism, conviction or perhaps simple stupidity, choose to echo far‑right themes rather than fight them. Fine. "Send them back," they say. Let us therefore push this intellectual exercise to its conclusion. Send them all back. Send back the nurses who came from Africa and keep European hospitals running. Send back the care assistants who look after the growing number of elderly people, many of them impoverished. Send back the construction workers, bus drivers, cleaners, agricultural workers who harvest the fruits and vegetables. Send back the couriers who feed those many people unable to do their own shopping. Send back the engineers, doctors, researchers and students who enliven universities and hospitals. Send back the foreign entrepreneurs who create businesses and pay taxes. Send back the footballers and athletes who bring joy to young people and to nations. Send them all back, these "undesirables", and find elsewhere, on another planet, those who will make Europe run tomorrow. The demographic reality is merciless, members of Parliament. Europe is visibly ageing. Its fertility rate is below the generational replacement threshold in almost all countries. Former suppliers of labour and brains in Eastern Europe have become more prosperous; their inhabitants prefer to stay at home. The working population is shrinking while retirees are increasing. Health systems, pensions and public services already rely heavily on workers from immigration. All the major international institutions remind us: without immigration, large parts of the European economies will lack labour in the coming decades. Not only are migrants not an economic burden, but they are often part of the solution to the demographic — and therefore economic — crisis threatening the continent. The irony is striking: those whom some present as "undesirables" have precisely become indispensable to the daily functioning of your societies. Sending them back en masse would weaken hospitals, transport, agriculture, construction, catering and a multitude of already strained sectors. The human and economic consequences would be considerable, sometimes disastrous. Europe also seems to forget another historical truth. For centuries, Europeans left their continent by the millions to seek a better life elsewhere: to the Americas, Australia or Africa. More recently still, millions of Europeans emigrated to escape wars, dictatorships or poverty. Today, the continent that long produced migrants wants to forbid others from following the same path. This paradox reveals a troubling moral crisis. The European Union likes to recall that it is founded on human rights, dignity and solidarity. These principles should not disappear as soon as the subject is immigration. Controlling borders is a sovereign right. Fighting people‑smuggling networks is a necessity. Organising legal migration is essential. But turning human beings into scapegoats and echoing slogans of hatred is a political and ethical failure. When elected representatives applaud the cry "Send them back", they do not lower the people targeted. They surely demean the institution they represent. A democracy is judged by how it treats its minorities, its foreigners and the most vulnerable. If the European Parliament becomes a platform where xenophobia is applauded, then the very idea of Europe is in danger. Yes, send them back then... and then see who will treat your sick, build your housing, harvest your fruit, finance your pensions and keep an economy — already condemned by ageing to a shortage of labour — alive. On that day, Europe may discover that those it called "undesirables" had, in reality, become indispensable. And it may be too late to call them back. Their countries will also prosper sooner or later — as Ibn Khaldun reminded us.

Beyond the victory: Morocco won far more than a match... 1053

Aziz Daouda, 7 d.
- Society - Sports -
3.5 min read.
Yes, Morocco beat the Netherlands. The result will remain in the statistics, but it would be reductive to see it as merely a sporting victory. Some matches tell more than a score. They reveal an identity, a culture, values, a way of thinking and behaving in the face of adversity. This one belongs to that category. The first lesson is one of character strength paired with great humility. Achraf Hakimi and company dominated their opponent, created opportunities but failed to convert them. A shame. Many teams would have begun to doubt, to rush, to lose their shape and their lucidity. They continued to believe in their football, with patience and conviction, until the final whistle. It was a match of resilience and confidence. That ability to never give up is one of this team’s greatest strengths. The draw had not been kind to the Moroccans. Being placed in the second pot would take its toll. They had to start the tournament against a Brazil galvanized by its history; then face a revenge-seeking Scotland; and finish with Haiti, who had nothing left to lose. And then, bam — they had to travel far. Cross the United States from north to south and land on the other side of the border, in Mexico, to face one of football’s greatest powers. The country of Neeskens, Cruyff, Van Basten and so many others. The country where a certain Ștefan Kovács, called Pisti, invented total football, possession football. He had come from Cluj-Napoca, in Romanian Transylvania, to coach Steaua Bucharest before winning two European titles with Ajax... That’s where it all began. His imprint is now everywhere in the world. One day a great stadium should bear his name somewhere. FIFA should think about it. He revolutionized football and made it more spectacular and more colorful. Brazil — Morocco and the Netherlands respectively 5th, 6th and 7th in the FIFA rankings. The second lesson is managerial courage. First, the courage to trust Mohamed Ouahbi. A young coach with almost no record. He came to give the country its first-ever U20 world title. Not a small feat: a world title for the Kingdom of Morocco, and now he is well on his way to a second and is doing everything to achieve it. Mohamed, raised in Moroccan culture, steeped in the country’s values, bearer of the history of migration and its challenges, is a fine technician endowed with composure and steadiness under all circumstances: exactly what is needed for a Moroccan team. And then the young coach performs wonders in strategy, match planning and tactics. He does not hesitate to throw into the deep end, at a crucial moment, players born in 2005, entrusting them with responsibilities that many coaches would have reserved for older, more experienced players. Trusting youth is never an easy bet. But great teams, great countries, are precisely built on the ability to prepare the future without sacrificing the present. By giving these young talents their chance, the coach sends them a powerful message: merit matters more than age or any other consideration. What an example for the country’s managers, for Moroccan political parties, for Morocco as a whole. Trust in our talented young people, full of goodwill and love for the country. The feeling of belonging, a nation’s capital, has never been so strong and so manifest. It is the message of these young people who came out at dawn, fervent, shouting their pride and joy at being born Moroccan. This victory is also that of a culture of challenge. For several years, Moroccan football has refused to be content with existing. It wants to compete with the best nations. That ambition is found in every duel, every sprint, every contested ball. The Lions of the Atlas no longer play with the inferiority complex of small teams; they play with the certainty that they can beat any opponent. Another major lesson: resilience. Being behind on the scoreboard without abandoning one’s game plan is the mark of great teams. Too often, a team that concedes a goal abandons its principles in favor of long balls or disordered play. Morocco remained true to its identity. The players continued to build, to press, to create, convinced that their football would eventually be rewarded. This fidelity to the collective project is surely the most beautiful proof of maturity. At the heart of this success is also an inspired coach. His calm on the bench contrasts with the intensity on the field. He transmits neither nervousness nor panic. On the contrary, he exudes a communicative serenity that reassures his players in difficult moments. Great teams often have a great coach, not only for tactical skills, but also for the ability to instill unshakable confidence. Finally, this team is strong because it is deeply Moroccan. Behind the technical performances lies a culture: one of solidarity, respect, family and friendship. A culture where humility always accompanies ambition, where humanism remains a fundamental value, where each person accepts running for the other before thinking of themselves. This cohesion is not improvised; it is built around shared values. At the final whistle, the players did not hesitate for an instant to go and console their opponents. What an image. At its core, this victory over the Netherlands far exceeds the realm of sport. It demonstrates that a united collective, carried by a clear vision, solid values and unshakable confidence, can overturn the most difficult situations. It is a lesson that goes beyond football. It is a lesson in management, leadership and society. But above all, this victory is the fruit of a vision born in 2008, when His Majesty the King, may God assist him, addressed the famous letter to the sport conference and the day he inaugurated the Mohammed VI Academy. That was 28 March 2010. For several years now, Morocco has been investing massively in its football: modern infrastructures, development academies, professionalization of clubs and a long-term vision. The results the national team is reaping today are not a matter of chance. They are the logical consequence of a project built with patience, rigor and ambition. But beyond football itself, Morocco did not just win a match. It confirmed that it now possesses a champion’s identity and it won hearts. All over the world, football fans have vibrated for this team, waved Moroccan flags and worn shirts in the country’s colors. Immeasurable.

Morocco return to GMT: a belated decision on an all-too-perfectly timed calendar 1367

Aziz Daouda, 9 d.
- Politics - Society - Business -
3.2 min read.
Morocco is about to close a chapter that was opened eight years ago. As of 20 September 2026, the Kingdom will definitively — perhaps — abandon the permanent GMT+1 time regime and return to its so‑called legal time: GMT. For many Moroccans, this announcement is a relief. But behind that satisfaction lies a political question worth asking: why wait until the end of the government’s term and, above all, why schedule this return only a few days before a decisive election? GMT was first decreed in 1913, before switching to GMT+1 in 1918. There were a few periodic changes, particularly during World War II, but it was in 1967 that the choice of GMT was definitively settled. In the era of the Sharifian Empire, there was no official time: each city set its clocks by the sun. Choosing GMT was political, but also an obvious geographical and astronomical decision. Days were organized in harmony with sunrise and sunset, a rhythm that structured economic, social and religious life. In 2008 Morocco reintroduced daylight saving time, which had already been tried before. The stated aim was to save energy and align the country’s hours more closely with Europe for part of the year. Moroccans gradually got used to the seasonal changes, despite recurring criticism. The real break, however, came in October 2018. By decree of Prime Minister Saadeddine El Othmani, adopted a few days before the usual clock change, the government decided to permanently maintain GMT+1, reverting to GMT only during the month of Ramadan. This decision, taken without genuine public debate or thorough consultation, permanently disrupted citizens’ daily lives. The justifications offered were familiar: improve economic competitiveness, facilitate exchanges with European partners and optimize administrative organization. But the negative effects quickly appeared. The government had simply forgotten to readjust public administration hours and school schedules in particular. It did not bother to measure the social consequences of the decision, nor to adjust certain daily rhythms. Millions of pupils now leave their homes before sunrise for several months of the year. Biological rhythms are disrupted. Families report chronic fatigue, especially among young children. Teachers, employees and many professionals mention adaptation difficulties that became permanent. Gradually, maintaining GMT+1 stopped being a mere technical issue and became a symbol of a decision imposed without popular support. That opposition never disappeared. Every year, as Ramadan approached and the ensuing clock adjustments resurfaced the debate, social networks rekindled the discussion. Petitions circulated, associations challenged the authorities. Even experts were far from unanimous about the real economic benefits of the measure. In other words, the government cannot reasonably claim to be discovering the extent of the rejection today. That is precisely what makes the current decision politically interesting. The return to GMT is not the result of a sudden revelation. It represents the culmination of a long-standing demand that the authorities had until now chosen to ignore. So the real question is no longer whether returning to GMT is a good decision — many would answer yes — but rather why this moment was chosen and why there is no objective assessment of the economic and social gains or losses since 2018. Legally, nothing is disputable. The government fully has the power to set the country’s legal time. The decree adopted in the Council of Government falls within the executive’s competences. But politics is never reducible to law. When a measure directly affects the daily lives of nearly forty million citizens, its timing also becomes a political act. It also impacts many economic sectors connected to Europe. 20 September 2026 falls squarely within an electoral period, just days before a highly anticipated legislative vote. Can we seriously believe such timing is purely coincidental? It is hard to ignore the symbolic force of a decision that precisely erases one of the reforms whose unpopularity was revived every Ramadan, at the moment when voters will head to the polls. Suspicion becomes inevitable. Three explanations can be advanced. The first is that of a belated correction. The government would have finally recognized that permanently maintaining GMT+1 was a political and social mistake that needed fixing before leaving office. The second rests on electoral calculation. By removing a daily source of irritation, the executive could be seeking to restore part of its sympathy capital at a time when every vote matters. The third is political messaging. Every government prefers to end its term with a popular decision rather than with the memory of a widely contested reform. These hypotheses are not mutually exclusive. It is perfectly possible that a government sincerely corrects a mistake while also choosing the moment when that correction will have the greatest political effect. It is precisely this ambiguity that fuels the debate. At bottom, the affair goes far beyond the mere question of clock hands: it raises questions about how governments make decisions and, above all, how they accept — or refuse — to acknowledge their mistakes. Why allow such widespread discontent to persist for eight years before responding? Why wait until the last days of a mandate to return to a solution that geography, history and a large part of public opinion considered the most natural? In politics, decisions count, but their timing often speaks as loudly as their content. The return to GMT will likely ease the daily lives of millions of Moroccans. It is probably a sensible decision. Yet the choice of timing leaves a lingering impression: that of a government waiting until the polls approached to listen to what citizens had been repeating, rightly or wrongly, for eight years. Official time may finally be back in step with Morocco. The question remains whether political time has not arrived a little too late. In any case, we are about to change the clocks without a genuine, measurable scientific assessment of the beneficial or harmful effects of the 2018 change.

What is going on with British democracy? 1589

Aziz Daouda, 11 d.
- Politics - Society -
3 min read.
Long presented as the model par excellence of modern parliamentarism, the United Kingdom today looks like a political system losing stability and possibly running out of steam. The recent resignation of the Prime Minister — the eighth in just ten years — raises a fundamental question: can a great power be governed effectively when leadership changes hands almost every year? For nearly two centuries, the Westminster model was held up as a universal reference. From London to Ottawa, from Canberra to New Delhi, and across many former colonies, British institutions inspired constitutions, electoral systems and parliamentary practices. The idea was simple: a government accountable to Parliament, an organized opposition, peaceful alternation and a remarkable continuity of the state. This model long worked because it rested on solid pillars: two major parties capable of governing over the long term, a powerful civil service, a constitutional monarchy above partisan quarrels, and a political culture favoring compromise rather than confrontation. Today, that architecture shows worrying cracks. Its functioning is running out of breath. Since the Brexit referendum in 2016, British political life has entered an almost permanent period of turbulence. Prime ministers have succeeded one another at an unprecedented rate: David Cameron, Theresa May, Boris Johnson, Liz Truss, Rishi Sunak, Keir Starmer — not to mention all others — and now another head of government soon to follow. Eight leaders in ten years: a number one would usually associate with an unstable democracy or a regime in crisis, certainly not with the world’s oldest parliamentary democracy. This instability is not only the result of elections. Most of these leaders were not removed by voters but by their own parties. The British prime minister depends above all on the confidence of their parliamentary majority. As soon as that confidence erodes, MPs mount an internal rebellion, change leader and, consequently, change the head of government without consulting the electorate. Constitutionally, the mechanism is perfectly legal. Democratically, however, it raises a fundamental question: how far can top leaders be replaced without asking citizens again, when the Constitution defines citizens as the true decision-makers? The case of Liz Truss in 2022 remains emblematic. A near-unique political anecdote — except perhaps for some recent developments in France and in different systems — she was elected leader of the Conservative Party and lasted only forty-nine days, forced to resign after markets lost confidence. Her successor, Rishi Sunak, came to power without a general election. And now the scenario seems to be repeating. This volatility has concrete consequences. Every new prime minister arrives with a team, priorities, promises and sometimes a vision radically different from their predecessor. Reforms are launched then abandoned. Economic strategies shift. international partners struggle to identify a durable policy line. Investors hesitate in the face of such unpredictability. Can long-term public policies be pursued when governments live in a perpetual campaign? The energy transition, modernization of the health system, immigration reform and economic recovery require constancy and rock-solid stability. Yet that stability is increasingly hypothetical. The paradox is striking. Defenders of the British system see in this ability to replace a leader quickly proof of its vitality: an unpopular or ineffective prime minister can be removed without causing a major institutional crisis. The system would thus correct its own mistakes. One can also see it as a symptom of a democracy hijacked by party machines. Voters choose a program and a leader; months later they sometimes discover another prime minister, with another orientation, without having been consulted. The crisis goes beyond personalities. It reveals a deep transformation of British politics: party fragmentation, the rise of populisms, loss of confidence in elites, the growing influence of social networks, extreme personalization of power and difficulty building durable majorities. Cronyism and vested interests are never far away. Brexit did not create these fractures; it revealed and amplified them. This evolution also calls into question the international prestige of the British model. For a long time, London lectured the rest of the world on governance. Today, some countries that once looked to Westminster now watch its inventor’s troubles with surprise. British democracy is no longer the model of stability it once claimed to embody. Some of us once thought it the perfect template that could be transplanted to Morocco. Should we conclude it is in decline? That would be premature. British institutions retain considerable strengths: an independent judiciary, a free press, a competent civil service and a deeply rooted parliamentary tradition. Few countries would weather such a string of crises without questioning their constitutional order. But another truth is clear: the political stability that was the system’s main strength is no longer guaranteed. When a country changes its head of government eight times in a decade, it can no longer rely on tradition alone to reassure citizens or convince the world. Extremes are watching. The United Kingdom remains a resilient democracy. It is, however, no longer the uncontested example it was for two centuries. Its recent history reminds us of a often-forgotten truth: no democracy, however old, is immune to institutional wear and tear. The question is therefore no longer whether the British model is in crisis. The facts already answer affirmatively. The real question is different: is this a temporary crisis tied to the exceptional shocks of Brexit and economic upheavals, or the first signs of a deeper exhaustion of a political system that for nearly two centuries shaped many contemporary democracies without always delivering the promised stability? God save the King.

Crisis of leadership: A nation will only have the leaders it deserves... 1642

Aziz Daouda, 12 d.
- Politics - Society -
3.1 min read.
Man is born first with a basic reflex: to defend himself. To protect his body, his immediate territory, his survival. This instinct is ancient, almost animal. With social and intellectual evolution, that horizon widens. Man becomes capable of defending his family, his clan, and sometimes a community. But few are able to conceive of and sustain the defense of an entire nation’s interest. Yet it is precisely this capacity that distinguishes a true statesman from a mere political actor or a follower citizen. This reality sheds light on a major difficulty modern systems face in producing real leaders, especially in developing regions where the standard of living often correlates with the level of consciousness and clarity of vision. Most individuals naturally reason from their immediate interests. Even in the most advanced democracies, many political leaders put their careers first, their electoral clientele, their regional, ethnic, economic or ideological group. Few manage to break free from that logic and adopt a long-term national vision. World political history is full of examples illustrating this fundamental difference between a manager and a leader. A manager administers what exists. A leader transforms a society by carrying a vision that transcends his own interest. When General Charles de Gaulle returned to power in 1958, France was deeply divided by the Algerian War. He could have chosen the easy political path by aligning with the most powerful groups of the moment. Instead he chose a painful course he considered consonant with France’s strategic interest. That ability to think of the nation before immediate passions precisely defines historic leadership. Similarly, Nelson Mandela could have governed South Africa in a spirit of revenge after twenty-seven years in prison. He chose national reconciliation. Again, he no longer defended a group, but a higher idea of the nation. His successors squandered the capital he had built. Many countries today suffer from permanent political fragmentation. Parties become electoral machines focused on internal balances, personal ambitions, or short-term calculations. Political debate is then reduced to a quantitative competition: how many seats, how many votes, which coalitions. This is precisely where the theoretical role of political parties comes in. In modern democracies, parties should not be mere instruments for electoral conquest. Their fundamental mission is much nobler and more difficult: to identify, train, and promote personalities capable of rising above particular interests to embody the general interest. Yet this mission has become extremely complex. Mass media, the dominance of social networks and the politics of buzz often favor the most visible profiles rather than the most visionary. The ability to produce a viral line is rewarded more than the ability to build a national strategy for twenty years. Media time has become faster than political time. This drift explains why so many societies now experience a leadership crisis. Leaders are sometimes elected by statistical mechanism more than by genuine adherence to a vision. Universal suffrage remains essential, but it does not automatically guarantee the emergence of the best. It mainly makes it possible to designate those most capable of winning a majority. Between being elected and being a historic leader, however, there is a vast difference. A true leader possesses several rare characteristics: the capacity for personal sacrifice, long-term vision, the courage to accept temporary unpopularity, and above all the aptitude to reconcile conflicting interests around a national project. That is why great nations invest heavily in training their political, administrative and intellectual elites. Universities, grandes écoles, military or diplomatic institutions often play a major role in shaping leaders. The United States has Harvard University, Yale University or Stanford; France has Sciences Po or the former ENA; the United Kingdom has relied for centuries on the University of Oxford and the University of Cambridge. These institutions do not automatically produce political geniuses. But they create spaces where a culture of the State and the nation is built. In developing countries, the difficulty is even greater. The weight of local, tribal, economic or clientelist affiliations can sometimes prevent the emergence of a genuine national consciousness. The political leader then becomes the defender of a segment of society or an interest group rather than the servant of the whole nation. Yet no nation can sustainably progress without leaders able to elevate collective debate above immediate interests. The great political challenge of the 21st century is therefore not only economic or technological. It is human. How do we train men and women capable of thinking beyond themselves? How do we produce leaders who sometimes accept political loss in order to make their country win historically? In this respect, the situation unfolding in Morocco starkly illustrates this leadership crisis, with exhausted parties unable to renew their elites and discourses, while the political field oscillates between the noisy populism of some, the silence or assumed incompetence of others, and the proliferation of specialists in lies and hollow promises, with less than three months to go before crucial legislative elections for the country's future. Where do we stand with personalities such as Allal El Fassi, Abderrahim Bouabid, Abdelkhalek Torres, Mohamed Hassan El Ouazani and others? They were all products of a consciousness and a historical context. What then of the real challenges, of conscience and responsibility? What of the context that leaves us no choice? Where to move forward: consolidate the country's upward trajectory or, conversely, miss the technological turn as we missed the mechanization turn. The consequences are known to all: the Sherifian Empire eventually ended up placed under a protectorate and dismembered. Many citizens today are convinced that the answer cannot come solely from the ballot box. It also depends on education, political culture, the quality of institutions, citizens' honesty and the maturity of society. For at bottom, a nation often gets the leaders it prepares, values... and deserves.

When football studios become platforms for ill‑informed geopolitics... 1664

Aziz Daouda, 12 d.
- Politics - Society - Sports -
2.5 min read.
The World Cup is first and foremost a celebration of sport, a moment when tactics, technique, predictions and collective narrative take center stage. Yet at every major tournament lately, some studio panels turn into makeshift political arenas. Discussions meant to be about the game too often slide into poorly handled geopolitical sparring, to the detriment of sporting analysis and mutual respect among peoples. Television offers valuable visibility. For a pundit, columnist or host, being invited on a panel is an opportunity to clarify, inform and share expertise. But fame does not equal competence. Recently we’ve seen a worrying trend: contributors whose legitimacy rests on football morph into occasional political scientists when the topic is North African national teams. Instead of explaining a tactical choice, a technical performance or analyzing physical preparation, some use the microphone to denounce or instrumentalize historical and diplomatic tensions. The tone becomes aggressive and remarks turn ridiculous, veering into antisemitism, gutter invective and obsessive denigration. This drift is not harmless. It rests on a category error: talking about football requires sporting expertise; discussing international relations demands mastery of facts, historical perspective and rhetorical caution. The two fields rely on different methodologies. Reducing one to the other endangers the quality of public debate. The media magnifying effect means visibility should be paired with responsibility. The second problem is impact. A TV panel is watched by thousands, even millions. Statements made live are picked up and amplified on social media, sometimes stripped of context. When a pundit issues a sweeping opinion about history or diplomacy, the audience can take it as an authoritative verdict. This is particularly dangerous because it can present a partisan vision, deliberately shaped into a media “truth,” feeding resentments and stereotypes among closely connected peoples. One obvious reminder is needed: no commentator speaks for a people. Delegated speech in a media democracy is not a mandate. Confusing a pundit’s voice with that of a nation is an error as common as it is harmful. Sporting passions should not trample centuries‑old ties. While verbal fireworks make talk shows thrive, they must not obscure a firmer reality: ties between the peoples of the Maghreb rest on centuries of shared history, economic and cultural exchanges and family solidarities. These bonds usually withstand the excesses of studio debates and the lapses of some “politicians.” Sporting rivalries often exist within a framework of healthy competitiveness; they should not be turned into political conflict whose only aim is to mask one weakness or another. Distinguishing the rule from the exception is therefore essential. Outbursts happen, but they do not represent the totality of human and cultural relations in the region or the real situation of any given country. By contrast, the majority of supporters, sports journalists and analysts work to make sport a vector of exchange, not a pretext for polarizing societies. The shows that allowed these excesses would do well to return to best practices if they want to reclaim constructive debate. It is possible to restore program quality; media leaders and those in government have a duty to ensure this—unless it suits them otherwise. Unless they are complicit, some practical recommendations apply: - Clarify the formats: clearly separate sports segments from socio‑political debates, with hosts who steer discussions back on track when they degenerate. - Encourage nuance: promote well‑documented, sourced and balanced interventions rather than gratuitous theatrics and provocation. - Hold media accountable: establish editorial charters that set consultants’ scope and sanction factual departures. - Train contributors: offer sports pundits briefings on historical and diplomatic issues, and vice versa. - Respect expertise: invite qualified specialists (academics, historians, diplomats) for geopolitical topics and distinguish them from sports debates. These measures are not meant to muzzle speech but to make it more legitimate and useful. They will not necessarily deter troublemakers. Beyond ethical comfort, the stake is concrete: the credibility of public debate. When ignorance masquerades as expertise, the whole audience loses. Viewers tune in for explanations about a team’s performance, not a truncated history lesson serving hatred and discrimination. The risk is to normalize intellectual sloppiness and to instrumentalize television as an echo chamber for poorly informed grudges and cheap propaganda. Football deserves better than being hijacked for premature, ill‑founded polemics. Sports studios should remain spaces for game analysis, celebration of performance and respectful exchange. When politics must be discussed, call qualified voices and give them time to analyze. Ending makeshift geopolitics is a way to restore sport’s primary function: bringing peoples closer, not driving them apart. Polemic and insults do not diminish a country’s achievements, nor do they ennoble those who spread them.

Demography: Morocco’s existential challenge in the 21st century... 1663

Aziz Daouda, 12 d.
- Politics - Society - Business -
2.9 min read.
Dealing with demography is often seen as a statistical exercise reserved for demographers, economists or specialized institutions. History, however, shows that no single factor shapes a nation’s destiny more than changes in its population. Economic power, social cohesion, military capacity, innovation, pensions, public health and territorial balances all depend on demographic dynamics. Publications by the High Commission for Planning and reports from the Economic, Social and Environmental Council regularly describe ongoing transformations. But the strategic significance of these changes is rarely addressed, as if population ageing were merely one natural phenomenon among many rather than one of Morocco’s main challenges for the coming decades. The country counts nearly 37 million inhabitants. That number is significant regionally, but modest compared with many emerging powers. Morocco is undergoing an accelerated demographic transition. Fertility, which was 5.78 children per woman in the 1980s, has fallen to levels that threaten generational replacement. This trend reflects advances in education, the improvement of women’s status, rising urbanisation and better access to healthcare. It also carries its own set of challenges. When generations become smaller, the age pyramid gradually changes: the base narrows while the top widens, and society ages. Morocco therefore risks ageing before it has become fully wealthy. Unlike European countries, which benefited from a century of prosperity before confronting ageing, the Kingdom will have to manage development demands and the needs of an increasingly older population at the same time. A true trap. Japan, often cited as the global reference for ageing, became an economic power before it aged. Morocco, by contrast, could experience a rapid demographic transition without having sufficient wealth to absorb the consequences: social and health expenditures and the cost of caring for the elderly will soar. The number of contributors supporting pension systems will fall, with fewer active workers supporting more dependents. No pension system can sustainably resist that mathematical reality. The issue becomes more strategic in light of the Kingdom’s economic ambitions. Under the leadership of His Majesty King Mohammed VI, the country has embarked on a deep transformation of its economic model. Modern infrastructure, renewable energy, the automotive and aeronautics sectors, emerging defence industries, digital technologies, major logistics projects and the Football World Cup are pillars of this new economy. But behind the investments and infrastructure remains the same decisive factor: human capital. Who will work in tomorrow’s factories and build future infrastructure? Who will ensure agricultural production as rural areas empty? Who will fund national solidarity mechanisms? The Moroccan paradox is already clear. The country simultaneously suffers from high unemployment and labour shortages in many sectors. Construction, agriculture, crafts, certain manufacturing industries and several technical trades struggle to recruit. This contradiction reflects a growing mismatch between the economy’s needs and the aspirations of part of the youth, who legitimately or not seek specific conditions and better-paid jobs. At the same time, interest is waning in some occupations that are nonetheless essential to the economy. The phenomenon is not exclusive to Morocco: it also affects Europe and North America. Here it is aggravated by other factors, including the low social status of certain trades, the size of the informal sector and shortcomings in vocational training after the abandonment of traditional apprenticeship, wrongly stigmatized as child labour. Manual and technical work is insufficiently valued even though it is the backbone of many high-performing economies. Another question is quietly emerging: what if Morocco became a country of structural immigration? This hypothesis may surprise in a country historically marked by emigration. Morocco already hosts thousands of workers and students mainly from sub-Saharan Africa. Tomorrow, these flows could become indispensable to certain economic sectors. The real question is not whether immigration will exist, but what kind of immigration Morocco wants to organise. Skilled immigration or temporary labour migration? Regional African immigration integrated into the Kingdom’s continental strategy? This reflection must start today to avoid future improvisation. Demography is also a matter of sovereignty. The great powers of the 21st century possess a balance of territory, population, economy and innovation. China, India, the United States and other regional powers base their influence on that combination. For Morocco, demography has a particular dimension. The Kingdom harbours continental economic ambitions, plays an increasing diplomatic role, develops its maritime fronts and strengthens its presence in global value chains. All these ambitions require an engaged, motivated, active, dynamic, qualified and sufficiently numerous population. The challenge is strategic: Morocco needs a demographic pact to face these challenges. A national debate is necessary. The reflection should go beyond the sole question of birth rates. It must encompass family policies, housing, youth employment, education, vocational training, pensions, immigration, health, territorial planning and investment. In other words, a cross-cutting policy involving all public stakeholders. Morocco has always shown its capacity to anticipate major strategic challenges: energy policy, port infrastructure and water resource management are examples. Demography deserves the same level of attention today. A country is not reduced to its roads, its factories or its macroeconomic indicators; it rests first and foremost on men and women able to produce, innovate, pass on knowledge, defend and build the future. The real challenge is therefore not only economic or social: it is demographic. And it is precisely because it is silent that it may be the most important of all.

World Cup: when states remind FIFA who really calls the shots... 3691

Aziz Daouda, 27 d.
- Politics - Society - Sports -
2.7 min read.
For several days now, with delegations gradually arriving in the United States, Mexico and Canada for the 2026 World Cup, part of international public opinion seems to be discovering a reality that is, however, far from new: the primacy of national laws over the regulations of international sporting bodies. The treatment recently meted out to certain African, Middle Eastern and other delegations has sparked indignation, debate and sometimes accusations of discrimination. Yet none of this is truly new. Those who know the history of international sport are aware that the great Western powers have never relinquished their sovereignty on security matters to federations and international sporting bodies. Moroccan sporting history is full of telling examples. As early as 1984, the Moroccan delegation to the Los Angeles Olympic Games spent hours blocked at the American airport because of security procedures. At the Sydney Games, Moroccan athletes, officials and accompanying staff underwent particularly rigorous checks after more than twenty‑four hours of travel: interminable searches, interrogations, luggage inspected down to the smallest detail. The great powers apply their laws with cold efficiency, regardless of the supposed prestige of the competitions. The corridors supposedly set up to speed up procedures are in reality true security airlocks, pushed to the extreme. Passengers who arrived on the same flights as the athletes clear the border much more quickly. Being a qualified athlete for an international competition does not entitle one to preferential treatment. Djokovic was refused entry to Australia because he was unvaccinated. He was indeed the world No. 1 in the ATP rankings and the Australian tournament needed him for more than one reason. The reality is simple: no serious state hands over its national security to FIFA, the IOC or any sporting organisation. It is legitimate for a host country to apply its own laws with heightened vigilance when it receives hundreds of thousands of people from around the world. Zero risk does not exist. Large sporting gatherings are potential targets for all kinds of threats. In this context, outraged reactions often seem disconnected from geopolitical realities. The Somali referee turned away at Miami airport despite his visa remains, above all, a national of a country subject to particular entry restrictions into the United States. The Iranian players represent a state in open confrontation with Washington, and it is known that the sporting delegations of some regimes are often closely supervised by their security or diplomatic apparatuses. In 2022, the United States hosted the World Athletics Championships in Eugene, the temple of the sport in North America. Athletes from more than twenty African countries were unable to obtain visas to take part. The president of the African Athletics Confederation, himself a member of World Athletics, was unable to travel to the United States. American laws prevailed over the minor rules of the international federation, (World Athletics) which supposedly obliges the host country to accept all qualified athletes and their accompanying persons on its territory. This is neither automatic racism nor gratuitous hostility. It is, first and foremost, state logic, sovereignty and security. The real problem lies elsewhere. It lies in the attitude of certain “third‑world” countries that continue to regard the specifications of the major sporting bodies as sacred and indisputable. In many developing countries, FIFA, the IOC and other federations impose sometimes absurd requirements in terms of architecture, luxury, urban planning or security organisation, without local authorities daring to truly challenge them. How ridiculous it is to see some members of FIFA or the IOC — to name only the most visible, sometimes of dubious competence — inspect hotels, airports, hospitals, buses, and even public toilets with unbearable arrogance. Yet these organisations are not global governments. They have no democratic legitimacy superior to that of states. Their regulations cannot prevail over laws passed by sovereign parliaments and enforced by national institutions accountable to their people. The normal mission of a continental or world sporting federation should be limited to technical matters, the rules of the game and the sporting organisation itself. Once it claims to dictate security policies, architectural choices, lavish expenditures or urban orientations to sovereign states, it clearly oversteps its remit. The 2026 World Cup perhaps reminds us of an essential truth many had forgotten: it is not states that belong to FIFA, but FIFA that depends on states. What would football be without the colossal budgets that governments dedicate to it, sometimes at the expense of other sectors that are arguably more pressing? Yet that same FIFA, whenever a government seeks to put its football in order, sometimes wages war on it. We should perhaps thank the United States, Mexico and Canada for reminding everyone of the true nature of this competition: a great sporting celebration, certainly, but not a supranational authority capable of erasing laws, borders and national sovereignty. Anyone who fantasizes about a World Cup of caprice and privileges should abstain. Consider yourselves warned. +

Mehdi Tazi – Mohamed Bachiri: the duo that could reinvent Moroccan business leadership... 5063

Aziz Daouda, 1 mon.
The election of Mehdi Tazi and Mohamed Bachiri to the head of the CGEM is not just a change of leadership; it may mark a cultural, economic, even political turning point in how the company, wealth, and those who take the risk to invest are perceived. What’s most striking is how quickly they have begun to take the field, proposing initiatives and showing that they do not see the CGEM as just another institution but as a genuine driving force at a particularly sensitive moment. The country is investing, infrastructure projects are scaling up, and 2030 is looming. The automotive industry is asserting itself, aeronautics is advancing, and other sectors are rising. Morocco aims to become an energy, logistics and industrial platform. But another reality persists: administrative burdens, taxation seen as discouraging, difficult access to finance for SMEs, regulatory rigidities, a culture of suspicion toward business, and the lack of a true national narrative around entrepreneurs. This is where the duo can become more than a mere employers’ leadership and help change the perception of the businessman. In part of the collective imagination, he is often caricatured as a predator, a privileged figure removed from social realities. Certain practices and collusions feed that perception. That vision has become unfair to thousands of entrepreneurs who create, invest, export, innovate, and shoulder hundreds of thousands of jobs. Starting a company is a daily fight. You must face international competition, costs, tax pressure, late payments, market fluctuations, banking constraints, social tensions and, sometimes, regulatory instability. Behind every factory that opens, every SME that survives, every successful export, there are citizens taking considerable risks. The CGEM’s major cultural challenge is to rehabilitate the act of entrepreneurship: to make people understand that producing wealth is not a moral fault; earning money honestly is not a scandal. Business is not the enemy of citizens but their protection against unemployment and precariousness. The CGEM can no longer be content to be a union. In major economies, employers’ organizations shape economic doctrines, inspire tax reforms and steer debates on labor, investment, competitiveness and innovation. In Morocco, political parties speak more about redistribution than about wealth creation. A country cannot redistribute what it does not produce. The duo must shift the debate and push it toward structural issues: further freeing private investment, lightening bureaucracy, making taxation more stimulating for productive investment, accelerating dirham convertibility and loosening currency restrictions, turning SMEs into African champions and fostering a new generation of industrial and tech entrepreneurs. Morocco has often operated with a cautious, managed and controlled economy. That approach has brought stability. But the world is changing at brutal speed. Only countries that dare move forward. Will they have the boldness to propose reforms? Taxation is often perceived as heavy for value creators. Many businesses feel penalized for growing rather than encouraged to take risks. Currency restrictions, despite positive developments, also continue to limit certain international ambitions, notably for startups. The next government will need to make courageous choices, and the CGEM must move out of a defensive posture to become an offensive source of proposals, with less corporatism and more national vision. At heart, the real question is simple: does Morocco want only to manage its economy or to truly become a full-fledged economic power? Si Mehdi’s profile intrigues for another reason: his relationship to sport. An excellent triathlete, he belongs to that category for whom physical effort is not a social pastime but a way of life. That is no small detail. Triathlon is one of the sports that best reveals human character. It demands speed, power, endurance, mental toughness, the ability to manage pain and intelligence in deploying effort. Exactly what the Moroccan economy needs today: - Speed to accelerate transformations. - Power to impose reforms. - Endurance to withstand resistance. Sport also teaches another essential value: a culture of results. In sport, excuses produce nothing; only performance counts. Perhaps this is the culture Si Mehdi and Mohamed will inject into Moroccan business leadership: less rhetoric, more execution. First impressions reveal a particular dynamic between the two men. One seems to bring energy for projection, movement and mobilization; the other offers a direct, sharp temperament. In an era dominated by technological, energy and geopolitical transitions, that complementarity is a major asset. Morocco is entering an extremely tough global competition: Africa attracts every major power, industrial value chains are being recomposed, markets are shifting and traditional economic models are being challenged by AI and new forms of production. In this context, the CGEM can no longer be a mere representative body; it must become a true national strategic laboratory. Morocco today possesses rare assets: stability, modern infrastructure, an exceptional geographic position, proximity to Europe, depth in Africa and growing international credibility. But economic history also teaches that opportunities never last forever. The country must therefore accelerate. And perhaps this election comes at precisely the moment when the country needs a more offensive, more assertive, more visible and more engaged employers’ movement in the global economic battle. Success will not be measured only by reports produced or meetings held, but by a deeper question: transforming the country’s economic culture, where the financial sector remains dominated by banks, with a modest participatory segment and only 77 listed companies, even if that represents 47.1% of GDP (AfDB). Will they succeed in contributing to a Morocco where the entrepreneur is no longer suspected as a matter of principle, but recognized as a central actor of national sovereignty, employment and collective prosperity? If so, then their mandate will far exceed the bounds of a trade association.

Oxford, Fez, or the Enigma of Decline... 6159

Aziz Daouda, 1 mon.
- History - Science - Society -
3.2 min read.
It has now been nearly ten days since I have been walking through Oxford. What a pleasure it is to wander here. Ten days roaming its narrow streets, brushing against its stone walls, breathing in its immaculate gardens and its centuries-old colleges with their majestic façades. Ten days entering libraries where silence feels like a religion. Ten days visiting museums that are free, open to all, rich with objects, ideas, and the memory of humanity. Here, knowledge is not confined. It circulates. It is shared. It is breathed in. It lives. Each museum is a lesson in humility. The story of humanity is told with care, delicacy, patience, and pride. One can spend hours there without fatigue. Upon leaving, one already longs to return. Even the botanical garden feels like a constant invitation to understand the earth, plants, life, the universe, and the distant unknown. But for ten days now, a question has also been following me. It struck me suddenly at the Science Museum when I discovered astrolabes from our lands, from Morocco, from the Muslim world, displayed with respect, as symbols of a time when we were among the producers of global knowledge. And so a question becomes an obsession: how did we lose that lead? It is important to recall a historical truth that is often forgotten: the University of Al Quaraouiyine in Fez was the first university in the world. At a time when much of Europe was still in the shadows of the Middle Ages, Fez was already radiating through theology, mathematics, astronomy, medicine, philosophy, and the sciences of language. Scholars taught there while Europe was still learning how to structure its institutions of knowledge. On world maps tracing the history of human knowledge, Fez clearly appears as one of humanity’s great intellectual centers. So what happened? At what point did Oxford and Cambridge take the lead? Why did science continue to progress here while, in our lands, the momentum gradually stalled? Why did Europe transform universities into permanent engines of innovation and development, while we ended up sanctifying the past instead of building the future? The answer cannot be simplistic. No people decline overnight by accident. No civilization collapses by chance. The divergence of the Muslim world, and particularly Morocco, is the result of a long historical process in which powerful forces played a role. First, there was the gradual closing of the critical mind. For centuries, the Muslim world had made intellectual curiosity a central value. Greek, Persian, and Indian works were translated. People debated. They experimented. They wrote and taught. Scholars held prestige. Doubt was permitted, admired, even. Then, little by little, fear of change and conservatism replaced intellectual dynamism. Scholars were condemned, killed, persecuted; their books burned. Teaching was reduced to repetition rather than invention. Meanwhile, Europe experienced the Renaissance, then the scientific revolution, then the Enlightenment. Oxford and other European universities understood something essential: a university is not merely a place for transmitting fixed knowledge, it is a place where knowledge is produced and innovation is born. There, libraries became modern cathedrals. Here, books are still too often seen as secondary objects. There, research was funded, protected, encouraged. Here, even today, how many researchers still live in precarity and indifference? But there is something even deeper. Oxford impresses through something rare: continuity. Here, traditions were not destroyed in the name of modernity; they were integrated into it. Students still proudly wear black attire for examinations and carnations on their lapels. Professors continue to wear their centuries-old academic gowns. Academic rituals endure as a matter of course. And yet, no one sees this as incompatible with technological or scientific innovation. Perhaps this, too, is one of the great differences. What has become of the rituals of Al Quaraouiyine that once inspired universities across the world? Today, we tend to believe that modernity requires a brutal break with our traditions. They have understood that identity can be a strength when it accompanies progress rather than opposes it. Here, colleges are respected because they embody a living history. Buildings are maintained with almost sacred care. Students seem aware that they belong to something greater than themselves. They sit on prestigious benches. Knowledge is not merely a tool for social mobility; it is a collective mission. This is reflected even in behavior. People are calm, disciplined, curious, respectful, not because they are inherently superior, but because centuries of strong institutions have shaped a culture of civic responsibility and respect for public space. The real tragedy of the Muslim world may not be only economic or political. It is cultural. We have ceased to sustainably protect our institutions of knowledge. Too often, we have replaced merit with networks, a culture of research with a culture of diplomas, scientific patience with political urgency. While others were building libraries, we were sometimes building certainties. But all is not lost. What is most fascinating about Oxford is not its material wealth. It is its enduring belief in knowledge, its willingness to invest in books, museums, laboratories, gardens, students, and teachers as one would invest in the very future of the nation. The real question, then, is not only: why did we decline? Perhaps the real question is: do we still have the will to become a civilization that produces knowledge, rather than a society that merely consumes it? History shows one essential truth: no advantage is eternal, not that of empires, nor of universities, nor of civilizations. Fez has already illuminated the world. Nothing prevents it, nor Marrakech, Rabat, or Benguerir, from doing so again. Provided we understand that progress cannot be decreed. It is built in schools, in libraries, in intellectual freedom, in respect for teachers, in the protection of science, and in the reconciliation between identity and modernity. The real gap did not widen only in budgets or infrastructure. It widened in our relationship to knowledge

Football held hostage by the culture of excuses: when defeat becomes a conspiracy... 6349

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.
- Society - Sports -
2.9 min read.
Football is a sport of passion, emotion, and collective identity. It is often an extension of a national, regional, or popular feeling. This emotional power explains its greatness, but it also explains its excesses. For several years now, a worrying trend has been taking hold in world football: the growing inability of some coaches, officials, and other actors in the game to simply acknowledge the superiority of the opponent or their own shortcomings. Every defeat becomes suspicious. Every refereeing decision is turned into a scandal. Every elimination feeds a conspiracy theory. This culture of excuses is no longer marginal. It has become frequent enough to constitute a real moral, institutional, and security problem in football. The 2025 AFCON is a perfect example. The latest episode clearly illustrates this drift: the coach of Egypt’s U17 team blamed his side’s defeat on refereeing. Even at a youth level, where sporting education should take precedence over controversy, some officials would rather discredit referees than honestly assess their team’s weaknesses. Defeat is no longer accepted as a sporting reality Football is nevertheless based on a fundamental principle: there is a winner and a loser. Defeat is an integral part of sport. It should be analyzed, understood, and used as a lever for progress. Yet more and more, some coaches refuse this obvious truth. They prefer to point to outside culprits: - the referee; - the institutions; - VAR; - the fixtures; - the weather conditions; - alleged continental or international conspiracies. Rarely do they mention: - their poor tactical choices; - the lack of commitment from certain players; - their team’s technical or mental weaknesses; - poor preparation; - or simply the superior quality of the opponent. This attitude reflects a deep crisis of responsibility in modern football. A dangerous diversion tactic In many cases, blaming refereeing is primarily a way to protect the image of the coach or the club. Admitting mistakes takes courage. Accusing the referee, by contrast, helps deflect supporters’ anger. This strategy may seem effective in the short term, but it causes major damage. First, it fuels constant distrust toward national football institutions, continental confederations such as the Confederation of African Football, and even FIFA. Second, it helps radicalize supporters. When a coach publicly claims that a defeat is the result of injustice or manipulation, he legitimizes the anger, aggression, and sometimes even the violence of thousands of people. In some contexts, such accusations have led to assaults on referees, pitch invasions, urban violence, sporting diplomatic breakdowns, and online hate campaigns. Football then stops being a space of competition and becomes a field of permanent suspicion. The poison of sporting conspiracy thinking is obvious. The poison of sporting conspiracy One of the most serious phenomena is the rise of true football conspiracy thinking. Some defeats are said to be caused not by the opponent’s merit but by hidden forces: corrupt referees, biased federations, hostile confederations, and orchestrated decisions. This logic is destructive because it eliminates any culture of self-criticism. How can teams improve tactically if they refuse to admit their mistakes? How can young players be taught sportsmanship if they are told defeat is always unjust? How can credible institutions be built when they are constantly attacked without evidence? What is most worrying is that this mindset now reaches youth categories. Yet youth football should precisely teach respect, learning, mental discipline, and acceptance of the sporting result. When a U17 coach prefers to blame refereeing rather than acknowledge his team’s limits, he sends an extremely harmful message to younger generations. Great coaches take responsibility Football history shows that the greatest coaches are often those who know how to acknowledge their mistakes. Top-level managers such as Carlo Ancelotti, Pep Guardiola, and Jürgen Klopp have regularly admitted tactical errors, poor lineup choices, mental shortcomings in their teams, or the superiority of the opponent. This attitude does not diminish their standing; on the contrary, it strengthens their credibility. Acknowledging defeat is not humiliation. It is a sign of maturity, competence, and responsibility. Should irresponsible accusations be punished? The question now deserves serious attention: how far should we allow some officials to freely discredit football institutions? Freedom of expression must of course be protected. Refereeing mistakes do happen. Criticism of football is legitimate. But there is a fundamental difference between a reasoned critique and a permanent accusation aimed at delegitimizing referees and institutions without evidence. Stricter regulations should be considered to sanction unfounded accusations, statements that incite hatred against referees, conspiracy-driven remarks without factual basis, and systematic smear campaigns against sporting institutions. Such sanctions could include fines, suspensions, mandatory public retractions, or even temporary touchline bans. Protecting refereeing authority and institutional credibility is not a luxury; it is a necessity if football is to have a future. We must restore responsibility Football urgently needs to recover this essential value. A coach should be able to say: - “We lost because we were not good enough.” - “My tactical plan did not work.” - “My players were below the required level.” - “The opponent was better.” These phrases should be normal in elite sport. Yet they are becoming rare. By turning every setback into a scandal, football drifts away from its core values of merit, effort, learning, and respect for competition. The greatness of sport lies not only in victory. It also lies in the dignity with which defeat is accepted. I do not know whether Pape Thiaw will agree with this view. He should. The media should too.

“‘Hargaoui’: The Word Exposing Morocco’s Deep Social Divide” 6840

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.
- Society - Lifestyle -
3.2 min read.
It took just one word, picked up by Hassan El Fad, to spark a massive controversy. As is often the case, a comedian succeeded where sociologists, political scientists, and editorialists sometimes struggle: provoking debate and putting simple words to a complex phenomenon. The term “Hargaoui,” as used and explained by Hassan El Fad, goes far beyond comedic caricature. It actually describes a social attitude that has become familiar in contemporary Moroccan society, a posture marked by incivility, social arrogance, constant frustration, and above all a near-pathological refusal to acknowledge any collective progress. The Hargaoui is never satisfied. He lives in a permanent contradiction: fully benefiting from the country’s transformations while systematically denigrating them. This distinctly Moroccan sociological figure deserves serious analysis, as it reveals deep fractures within society. The Hargaoui is not necessarily poor, marginalized, or excluded, quite the opposite. He is often found among those who have materially succeeded. Some of the newly wealthy have even become its most caricatural expression: recent money, rapid social ascent, lack of civic culture, and a constant desire to display social dominance. Everything becomes permissible: - Traffic laws? Optional. - Respect for public spaces? Useless. - Basic politeness? A weakness. - Common rules? For others. The Hargaoui believes that financial success grants him every right. He confuses freedom with the absence of limits and turns economic success into a license for contempt. But the phenomenon does not stop there. The Hargaoui is often inflated with a sense of his own power, real or imagined. He turns his frustration into a constant demonstration of domination over society. With an iron bar in hand, he displays violence the way others display success. He smashes cars, vandalizes stadiums, destroys public property, never realizing that behind every broken window or torn-out seat, it is the entire community he is attacking. On his motorcycle, it is no longer driving but a kind of urban rodeo where danger becomes spectacle. On the highway, speed limits apply only to others. At 180 km/h, he believes he is defying the world, when in reality he is defying death. In city streets, driving at 60 km/h feels almost humiliating to him. Even when dropping his children off at school, he disregards the most basic rules. Double parking becomes an acquired right; blocking traffic and imposing his disorder on everyone else does not bother him in the slightest. The Hargaoui rejects any collective constraint because, deep down, he does not see society as a shared space, but as a territory to dominate. There is also, unfortunately a political, intellectual, and media version of the Hargaoui: one who systematically denies Morocco’s progress, whatever it may be. Infrastructure, diplomacy, sports, industry, tourism, energy, major projects, African influence, high-speed rail, the organization of the 2030 World Cup, everything must be minimized, suspected, or ridiculed. In this logic, acknowledging national success becomes almost an act of naivety. Pessimism is seen as a sign of superior intelligence. Yet no society can sustainably advance through permanent self-denigration. Criticism is, of course, necessary, indeed indispensable. A nation progresses through debate, questioning, and civic demands. But there is a fundamental difference between constructive criticism and collective psychological destruction. The Hargaoui rejects this distinction. The Hargaoui is also that politician who talks nonsense, makes implausible promises, lies as easily as breathing, produces incoherent statements, and shows contempt for citizens, while believing himself to be the only intelligent one. He is the elected official who, during a meeting, stands up, insults his colleagues, breaks furniture, and then leaves… calmly. He does not seek to improve; he seeks to belittle. His discourse is not driven by concern for the common good, but by diffuse anger, sometimes rooted in social frustration, sometimes in resentment, sometimes simply in a form of identity void or pathological jealousy. The Hargaoui is also that neighbor who sees himself as God’s defender on earth, constantly lecturing others on righteousness while lacking it himself. He claims to stand for great causes, but far from real battlegrounds. He waves another country’s flag while forgetting that his first duty is to defend his own. He is the athlete who, after two good passes and a first bonus, already thinks he is a star. The young man who, after a few musical notes, calls himself an artist and demands recognition in the street. The Hargaoui is also the tax cheat, the perpetually absent civil servant, the teacher who sleeps in class. Social media has greatly amplified this phenomenon. It has given immense visibility to performative incivility, unapologetic vulgarity, and constant outrage. The more shocking the behavior, the more attention it attracts; the more outrageous the discourse, the more it goes viral. The digital Hargaoui has emerged: - He cuts in line and then films his “achievement.” - He humiliates others to exist. - He turns insults into opinions. - He treats cynicism as proof of lucidity. And yet, this behavior appears paradoxically at a time when Morocco is experiencing one of the most significant periods in its contemporary history. The country is investing heavily in infrastructure, accelerating industrial modernization, consolidating diplomatic gains, and preparing for major global events. This historical acceleration clearly demands something else: mature citizenship. Morocco’s real challenge is no longer only economic; it is becoming cultural and behavioral. One can build the finest roads, the largest ports, and the most modern stadiums, if civic responsibility does not follow, modernity will remain incomplete. This is where the controversy around the word “Hargaoui” becomes interesting, because it touches on a sensitive truth, one that disturbs precisely because it is visible in everyday life. Morocco is changing rapidly. But some behaviors remain trapped in a mindset where individual success is built against the collective rather than contributing to its advancement. Ultimately, the question raised by Hassan El Fad is simple: do we want to become a modern society only through infrastructure, or also through behavior? The answer will likely determine the true face of Morocco tomorrow.

Abdelwahab Doukkali, or the Nobility of a Morocco That Sings ... 8374

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.
- Art - Society - Lifestyle -
2.6 min read.
Abdelwahab Doukkali, or the nobility of a Morocco that still sings; that has always sung and will sing forever. There are artists we admire. And then there are those we love deeply, because they end up becoming part of our own intimate memory, of ourselves simply. Abdelwahab Doukkali belonged, and will belong until the last breath, to this rarest of categories for many people among us. With his passing, Morocco loses more than a great singer. It loses a voice of civilization. A way of being Moroccan with elegance, depth, modesty, and grandeur. He had a unique way of making the modernity and the soul of this Western land that is Morocco dialogue with the so-called Arab East, without ever betraying either one. Doukkali was not just an interpreter. He was a fine architect of emotion. In him, every note seemed thoughtful, inhabited, almost meditated. He sang as one recounts a noble wound, a sincere love, a burning pain, a bittersweet nostalgia, with that restraint that characterized the great artists of his generation. Those who knew that power lies not in excess, but in mastery and sincerity. I will always keep in memory a moment of rare human intensity. One evening, almost intimately, he sang me أغار عليك (“I Am Jealous”). Few artists could give such emotional depth to this piece. He was surprised that I knew such a rarely performed work. For another, this song would have been simply beautiful. For Doukkali, it became a sentimental vertigo. He told me how, on the road back from Marrakech to Casablanca one day, he had the genius to add a word to such a beautiful poem whose potential he didn't know how to unlock. A little word added to lyrics spoken by a woman… قالت (“She said”). Thus, he gave himself the right to sing jealousy on the edge of madness; the obsession that only women hold the secret to, transforming pain into sublimated romance. His voice did not just sing the words. It gave them a second life, the Abdelwahab Doukkali life. And how can we not mention this other artistic feat, that of having sublimated مرسول الحب (“Marsoul L’hob”)? Was Tayeb Laalej aware of what his lyrics, composed in his car, would become... Many interpret, many compose, many sing. Few improve the note, the word, the melody, the emotion. Doukkali did so with that musical intelligence belonging only to the very greatest. He instinctively understood where to place the breath, where to suspend the silence, where to let the orchestra fade before pure emotion, where to place a word, sketch a smile, address the audience. That is genius. Modern Morocco owes so much to men like Abdelwahab Doukkali. A generation that carried Moroccan culture throughout the Arab world and beyond. One day, he found himself singing in French… Go ask him why he sang *Je suis jaloux* with dignity and refinement. This generation that produced cultured, elegant, rooted, and universal artists at once is almost gone… Cursed be this year that took Belkhayate and Doukkali from us… Thank you, Fès, for giving us these two and so many others… Today, listening to his songs again, we also measure what our era has lost: artistic patience, the choice of poetry and words, respect for the public, the cult of work well done. Abdelwahab Doukkali belonged to that time when Moroccan song was a work of art and not a product. His passing brings immense sadness to all who knew him, loved him, or simply listened to him one day with the heart. But great artists have this mysterious victory over death: they continue to inhabit our lives long after their departure. As long as in Morocco a voice hums أغار عليك, as long as a heartbroken lover discovers كان يا ما كان, Abdelwahab Doukkali will never truly leave this country. Madly in love with this land, he built there forever a rampart… That of fine taste with ما أنا إلا بشر (“I Am Only Human”). There goes Doukkali to rejoin friends: Tayeb Laalej, Nizar Qabbani, Abderrahim Sekkat, Ahmed Chajai, Lamghari, Abdelhay Skalli, Mohamed Fouiteh, Abdelhadi Belkhayate, Naima Samih. The others will forgive me for not naming them. In this moment of pain, it's a bit complicated. Tonight, Oum Kaltoum, Farid El Atrach, Abdelhalim Hafid, El Mouji, Baligh Hamdi, Mohamed Abdelwahab, Riad Sounbati... will welcome him. Artists of this caliber do not die. They become national memory. As good Muslims, let us simply say: “We are to God and to Him we return,” and pray. Pray for Doukkali to rest in peace. Those who pass not far from his grave will surely hear him humming this or that song they adore from him.
youtu.be/DAV4xLgVJNE?si=9EVIfYbi...

Ouarzazate: From Logistical Isolation to a Systemic Development Emergency 8809

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.
- Politics - Society - Business -
2.1 min read.
Tourism and film professionals in Ouarzazate have once again expressed their anger with force and clarity. This isn't the first time they've risen up like this. In contrast, citizens murmur their frustrations quietly. Even when they shout their boiling rage, their voices seem blocked by the height of the Atlas peaks. They don't reach or don't clearly reach, where they need to. Since Ouarzazate has been under the Errachidia region, authorities and elected regional bodies have focused on their own city and its immediate surroundings, relegating Ouarzazate "on the other side" to oblivion. These cries are no longer mere sectoral demands. They reveal a long-standing multidimensional structural crisis. Beyond the glaring failure of air connectivity, the most visible symptom of deep isolation, lies a fragile and incoherent territorial development model. Professionals operating in Ouarzazate tell anyone who will listen that the city's tourist and cinematic appeal is in peril. In a globalized economy, the fluidity of flows determines competitiveness. The lack of direct flights from key European and North American source markets erodes Ouarzazate's attractiveness, a local economic pillar driven by its two flagship industries: tourism and cinema. Dependence on Casablanca or Marrakech hubs breaks the value chain, while logistical unpredictability deters tour operators and international productions. Add to that, it must be said, the surprisingly weak domestic air links. This domino effect hammers the local economy. Hotels see declining occupancy, margins shrink, and recent investments lack profitability. Indirect jobs in guiding, transport, crafts, and restaurants become increasingly precarious. If tour operators bypass the destination, film productions turn to more accessible rivals. Stays shorten dramatically. Ouarzazate isn't rejected: it's circumvented, which in tourism amounts to a gradual disappearance. ### The Mining Paradox: Wealth Without Local Benefits Morocco's Southeast is rich in strategic minerals: silver, manganese, cobalt. Yet the value generated escapes the territory: - Weak local redistribution: revenues are barely reinvested in infrastructure, skilled jobs, or public services. - Enclave effect: mining sites are isolated, without economic integration. - Negative externalities: intense pressure on water resources leads to environmental degradation without compensation. - Lack of processing: exporting raw materials deprives the region of industrial value chains. Thus, the territory generates wealth without building its future, deepening a profound sense of injustice. ### Governance Challenges and Systemic Risks His Majesty King Mohammed VI has repeatedly denounced the "two-speed Morocco," highlighting serious governance failures. Yet, despite unprecedented discursive promotion, cinematic hub, gateway to the desert, Ouarzazate remains poorly integrated into a genuine unclogging strategy. Where is the coordination between transport, tourism, and territorial development? Why do intangible infrastructures (connectivity, logistics) lag behind those in other regions? Does anyone have a clear vision of Ouarzazate's role in the national economy? This glaring deficit turns huge potential into fragility. The image suffers badly: complex access for travelers, uncertainties for productions. Perception being a key asset, a silent marginalization takes hold, threatening exit from international radars: fewer tourist nights, fewer films, fewer investments, fewer jobs. A vicious circle relegates this true center of excellence to forgotten peripheries. ### Rethinking the Model: Levers for Coherent Development The challenge goes beyond the unclogging some imagine. The entire model must be rethought: - By leveraging the mining sector to fund regional development, infrastructure, and training. - By creating synergies across all sectors (mining, tourism, energy). - By ensuring equitable wealth redistribution. - By encouraging executives, especially natives or those from the region, to settle there, return, and invest. - By integrating the region into a coherent national vision. Without this, Ouarzazate will keep accumulating paradoxes: Rich in resources, poor in benefits; World-famous, locally marginalized. In the end, it's no longer just an economic and social crisis penalizing Ouarzazate and its people, but a threat to territorial cohesion and justice itself. Ouarzazate's cries aim only to raise awareness of its ignored structural crisis... Until when?

Hassan II Trophy: Fifty Years of History, Memory, and Royal Vision... 8803

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.
- Society - Sports -
1.8 min read.
There are anniversaries that are more than mere numbers. They are milestones in a life, landmarks in memory. This 50th edition of the Hassan II Golf Trophy is one of them. And for me, it holds a special flavor: that of half a century of history that I have had the modest privilege of living through. I can still picture myself, young and enthusiastic, assigned by my friend Najib Salmi to cover the very first edition for *L’Opinion*. We didn't yet know we were witnessing the birth of an event destined to span decades and place Morocco on the world map of golf. At the time, the gamble seemed bold. Golf was not a popular sport in Morocco, let alone a vector for international image. But that gamble bore the mark of a vision. That of Hassan II. To put it bluntly: the Hassan II Trophy is not just a sports competition. It is the expression of a strategy. A way, for a visionary sovereign, to anticipate what modern diplomacy would become: a diplomacy of influence, image, cultural and sporting outreach. Hassan II understood, well before many others, that sport could be a universal language. A space where nations meet without rigid protocol, where elites exchange in an informal setting, and where a country's image is built with subtlety. Golf, in particular, offered that prestigious yet discreet dimension, perfectly aligned with his idea of Morocco's positioning. Golf in Morocco had its own tradition and unique flavor, which a certain Winston Churchill regularly came to savor... Over the editions, I watched this trophy grow. From a still-confidential tournament, it became a recognized stop on the international circuit. I saw champions come and go, infrastructure evolve, and organization professionalize. But more than that, I saw a royal intuition proven right, year after year. What strikes me today, looking back, is not just the event's longevity. It is its coherence. Nothing was left to chance. The choice of courses, the quality of hospitality, the attention to detail... all of it meets one demand: to make Morocco a reference. And then there is that human dimension, often overlooked in official reports. The encounters, the chats by the green, the bonds forged over the years. Najib Salmi is no longer here to share this moment, but I know he would have savored it, like me, this continuity. We had begun this adventure almost as curious onlookers; today we see it consecrated. Fifty editions later, the Hassan II Trophy is far more than a tournament. It is a legacy. That of a king whom history will surely remember as one of the greatest of the Alaouite dynasty, not only for his political acumen, but for his ability to see far, very far ahead. Today, the vision is renewed. His Majesty King Mohammed VI has revitalized the approach with vigor, and His Royal Highness Prince Moulay Rachid ensures it translates into reality in the best possible way. And I, a mere chronicler of this long span of time, today measure the privilege of having been there at the beginning... and of still being here to recount its trajectory and savor the spectacle with the pride of a fulfilled citizen living his Moroccan identity.

Moroccan Football: When Spectacle Becomes a Pretext for Confrontation... 8785

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.
- Politics - Society - Sports -
2.8 min read.
There was, at the outset, a kind of almost naive optimism. By modernizing infrastructure, offering fans stadiums to international standards, professionalizing organization and hospitality, and shifting to what's now called the "fan experience," many believed Moroccan football would cross a threshold—not just sporting, but civic as well. The idea was simple: by elevating hosting conditions, public behavior would automatically improve. Recent events during FAR–Raja at the Moulay Abdallah Complex brutally contradict this hypothesis. A rude awakening that, naively, no one anticipated. What happened there is neither trivial, nor isolated, nor should it be dismissed as a mere incident. On the contrary, it's the symptom of a deeper malaise that categorically transcends the realm of football. The illusion of infrastructure as a driver of change has simply shattered. Morocco has massively invested in its sports facilities, eyeing continental and international ambitions, and of course a legacy and assets for youth and football. The Moulay Abdallah Complex, a showcase of this policy, is meant to embody this new era, with security, comfort, and organization. Yet these modern infrastructures failed to prevent scenes of violence, vandalism, and clashes. This highlights a fundamental analytical error. Social problems aren't solved by purely material responses. Stadiums aren't airtight bubbles insulated from society's tensions. They often mirror and amplify them. For some time now, they've become the venue and crucible for claims and expressions that go far beyond football. The fundamental question is to open our eyes. Are we dealing with football fans or organized groups, manipulated and spurred on as the spearhead of obscure agendas? Doesn't this echo the methods of the Open Society? It would be misleading to reduce these outbursts to mere "fan excesses." A portion of the crowd in the stands clearly isn't there for the football. In many cases, these are structured groups, mostly young, sometimes very young, who instrumentalize the sports event as a space for violent expression. They themselves are likely manipulated and victimized. The match then becomes a pretext, and the stadium a stage where power struggles unfold that have little to do with the game. Clashes with law enforcement aren't accidental. They're sought, prepared, sometimes even ritualized. Should we see manipulation at play? The question deserves to be asked without naivety. In numerous international contexts, fan movements have been infiltrated, instrumentalized, or co-opted for political, ideological, or criminal ends. Morocco isn't inherently immune to such drifts. Thinking otherwise is ingenuous. Faced with these derailments, another element stands out: the silence of certain clubs. This muteness is, at best, cowardice. At worst, implicit complicity or simply fear of confrontation. Clubs are the first affected. Their image and finances are directly hit by these behaviors. Their moral responsibility is engaged. Yet few take a clear, firm, public stance to condemn these acts and disavow these groups. Why this silence? Fear of losing part of their fan base? Inability to control groups that have become autonomous? Or calculation, viewing these radical fringes as contributors to stadium atmosphere and pressure despite everything? Whatever the reason, this stance is untenable. Clubs can't claim the benefits of popular support, enjoy colossal subsidies and investments at taxpayers' expense, while turning a blind eye to their gravest excesses. Treating them as incidents handed off to security services isn't acceptable. Clubs must speak out, express themselves, disavow, and openly condemn. FAR's leaders have just broken this silence with a statement denouncing what happened. All football clubs and their league likely need to go further. Why not join as civil parties? The image of clubs, football, and the country is severely damaged. This is also a matter of authority and societal project. At bottom, the issue transcends football. It points to a broader stake: authority, youth guidance, and meaning given to collective spaces. When youths use a match to "settle scores," it reveals deficits in integration, benchmarks, and prospects. The stadium becomes an outlet, but also a training ground for confrontation. Action is thus needed, and quickly. Youths all dressed in black eerily recall fascist movements from another era, another world. The response can't be purely securitarian, though necessary. It must be holistic: educational, social, cultural. It requires holding all actors accountable—notably, it bears repeating, parents, society, clubs, the federation, local authorities, and media. Labeling openly dangerous behaviors as "festive expressions" and broadcasting their images is reckless. It implicitly gives visibility to movements that thrive on it, demonstrating their power and attracting more followers and sympathizers. Some, naively, push crowds toward extreme behaviors through inappropriate narratives and semantics they don't master. More than ever, it's time to restore football's essence: a cultural moment of sharing, collective emotion, framed rivalry. When it becomes a battlefield, it loses its purpose. It's thus urgent to reaffirm clear lines: - Zero tolerance for organized violence - Clubs held accountable for their supporters - Professional league held accountable - Identification and sanctioning of troublemakers behind the scenes - Rebuilding a healthy bond between youth and sport. For without this, the world's finest stadiums will remain empty shells devoid of meaning, unable to contain tensions they're not meant to resolve. Moroccan football deserves better. And it's still time to right the course—if we face reality head-on, with intelligence and without complacency.

April 6: The Moroccan Idea That Conquered the World... 9824

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.
- Society - Sports -
2.2 min read.
April 6 is now etched into the global calendar as the International Day of Sport for Development and Peace. A celebration championed by the United Nations, echoed across all continents, and enthusiastically embraced by millions of athletes, institutions, and enthusiasts. Yet behind this worldwide recognition lies an origin that often goes unnoticed. It’s a Moroccan idea, that of Hamid Kamal Lahlou. The irony is striking. While the world fervently celebrates this day, Morocco—the birthplace of the initiative—sometimes seems to lag behind, as if hesitating to fully claim its paternity. Yes, there have been scattered initiatives and events here and there. But they fall far short of what we might have hoped for. We won’t list the few organized manifestations, so as not to ruffle feathers by omitting any. In any case, there are no major events from the sports authorities, such as the ministry, the National Olympic Committee, or the major Royal Moroccan Sports Federations. Is this simply an oversight, or a more subtle form of distancing? The question deserves to be asked, especially when you know the personality of its originator. Kamal Lahlou is not a consensual figure. Journalist, sports leader, communicator, he has established himself over decades as a singular voice in Morocco’s media and sports landscape. His career is dense: former handball player, originally a physical education teacher and inspector, committed actor in the development of national sports, he has held important responsibilities, notably within the Moroccan National Olympic Committee and the Association of African National Olympic Committees. He remains president of the Royal Moroccan Weightlifting Federation and vice-president of the Mohammed VI Sports Champions Foundation. But beyond titles and roles, it’s his words that stand out and his stance that impresses. Direct, clear, often critical, Lahlou disturbs as much as he inspires. He practices neither doublespeak nor complacency. In an environment where restraint is sometimes elevated to an implicit rule, his frankness cuts through. He points out shortcomings, challenges decision-makers, and defends a demanding vision of sport as a lever for development and national influence. This positioning has earned him as many admirers as detractors and doubtless even more denigrators. Some praise his courage and consistency, others reproach him for a tone deemed too incisive. Still others find nothing to fault him for, yet behind his back, lavish him with gratuitous reprimands. But all agree on one point: Kamal Lahlou is an incontournable figure, impossible to ignore. His patriotism admits no ambiguity. Behind every statement, every critique, emerges a clear ambition: to see the Kingdom take the place it deserves on the international sports scene. The April 6 Day fits precisely into this logic. By proposing to dedicate a date to sport as a vector for peace and development, Lahlou sought not personal legitimation, but recognition of the fundamental role sport can play in modern societies. He thus transcribed, in his own way, the royal vision of sport and the role the country can play on a universal scale in service of peace. So why this relative discretion in Morocco around this day? Is it the price to pay for free speech? The backlash of rivalries that have no place? An implicit way to marginalize a figure deemed too independent? A means to silence an ambitious voice? Or simply a deficit of collective memory? Whatever the answers, or the answer, one reality remains. April 6 is an idea born in Morocco, carried by a Moroccan, and adopted by the entire world. At a time when the country seeks to strengthen its soft power and highlight its successes, it might be time to reconcile origin and celebration. For recognizing this initiative to Kamal Lahlou is not just about honoring a man. Does he really need it? It’s rather about embracing a part of contemporary national and global sports history, and reminding that beyond infrastructure and performances, ideas too can change the world. And if it’s the Kingdom of Morocco at the origin, that’s even better.

Mediterranean: The Great Erasure of the Amazigh in Eurocentric Historical Narrative... 9682

Aziz Daouda, 3 mon.
- Politics - History - Society -
2.9 min read.
The history of relations between the two shores of the Mediterranean is deeply biased. Behind the lazy opposition between a supposedly dynamic North and a South relegated to the margins lies a more serious omission: **the systematic erasure of the determining role of the Amazighs (Berbers, Moors) in the formation of Mediterranean Europe**. This erasure is neither neutral nor accidental; it stems from a genuine ideological construct. Long before the colonial era, Amazigh populations structured most of North African space and held a central place in the political, military, commercial, and cultural dynamics of the Mediterranean, forming essential pillars of its history. They ensured an almost continuous link between sub-Saharan Africa and the northern Mediterranean. From Al-Andalus to medieval Sicily, their imprint is deep and enduring. A symbol of this centrality, the conquest of the Iberian Peninsula in the 8th century was led by Tariq ibn Ziyad (as named in the sources) at the head of a predominantly Amazigh army. Chronicles emphasize its largely Berber composition. This reality is systematically downplayed in favor of an Arab-centered narrative that invisibilizes the predominant Amazigh component. Without the Amazighs, there simply would have been no lasting Muslim implantation in Western Europe and the subsequent impacts. Reducing Al-Andalus to a mere outgrowth of the "Arab world" is a grave falsification by oversimplification. The dynasties that drove its golden age, foremost the Almoravids and Almohads, were of Amazigh origin. Emerging from Saharan and Atlas Berber confederations, they refounded the political balances of North Africa and Al-Andalus, building a Hispano-Moorish civilization that remains vibrant today. This fundamentally Amazigh civilization marked urban and monumental architecture, still visible in Seville, Marrakech, Fez, or Cordoba. It structured religious and legal thought with reformist Malikism among the Almoravids, doctrinal rigor among the Almohads for Muslims, and Maimonides' thought for Jews. It also durably impacted the political and military organization of the western Mediterranean. Southern Spain and Portugal still bear visible and toponymic traces of this Amazigh presence today. Ignoring them mutilates a deeply shared history. To refresh this memory, what better than a little tour of Spain's Extremadura. This influence did not stop at the Andalusian shores. In Sicily and southern Italy in general, particularly Palermo, interactions between North African worlds and European spaces were constant during Islamic and then Norman periods, via military contingents, trade networks, and knowledge transfers. These circulations included a significant Amazigh component, often retroactively dissolved into the vague formula of "Arab influence." Couscous is still present there, accompanied by orange blossom almond sweets. By speaking indistinctly of "Arabs," dominant narratives erase the real plurality of actors and obliterate the African depth of these exchanges. This erasure stems from several cumulative biases. First, **Eurocentrism** and the inability to admit that African populations were co-founders of Mediterranean Europe. Second, **historiographical Arabocentrism** and the tendency to homogenize the Muslim world by invisibilizing its non-Arab components, primarily the Amazighs. Finally, **colonial legacy**, with the need to smooth and hierarchize narratives to legitimize a supposed European civilizational superiority. The result is clear: the Amazighs are relegated to a secondary, folkloric, or local role, even though they were structuring actors of the western Mediterranean. Their impact is unequivocally one of the most important in the region's history. Correcting this bias does not boil down to adding a "Berber" chapter to already-written history books. The narration itself must be reconfigured. It involves reinscribing the Amazighs at the heart of the Mediterranean narrative. Southern Europe is not solely the heir to Rome and Christianity. It is also, in part, the product of North African contributions, particularly Amazigh ones, visible in its political structures, urban landscapes, culinary and clothing arts, certain names, and imaginaries. Isn't the name Maurice an example of indelible impact? The western Mediterranean must be conceived as a space of co-construction, not as a theater of unilateral diffusion from North to South. Recognizing this is not a reflex of identity politics or any ideological claim, but a minimal requirement of scientific rigor. Mediterranean history has been flattened to serve power logics, at the cost of extreme simplification of trajectories and actors. The Amazighs are among the great erased, if not the only ones excluded. Fully reintegrating them into the narrative is not "rewriting" history in the sense of distorting it: it is **repairing** it, by restoring to the Mediterranean its African depth and true complexity. This approach is essential to ease relations in the region and build a solid future for its populations, whether in political, economic, or simply human terms. For centuries, this unbalanced narrative has permeated academic, media, and political discourses. Yet the Mediterranean has always been a sea of circulation, not domination; a space of permanent interactions, not a border between hierarchized worlds. From Antiquity and likely before, it has been a zone of mutual fertilization between African, Levantine, and European civilizations. Archaeology demonstrates this powerfully. Phoenicians, Romans, Carthaginians, Egyptians, Numidians, and of course Amazighs structured its commercial, cultural, and scientific exchanges. The idea of an autonomous Europe, the sole source of modernity, is merely a late reconstruction. Not so long ago on a geological scale, the strait between Morocco and Spain was barely more than one kilometer wide... It falls to historians, teachers, and school systems on both shores to correct this, with a view to a common future founded on an equally shared past.

Doping: Move Beyond Fiction, Confront the Public Health Issue... 9870

Aziz Daouda, 3 mon.
- Politics - Society - Sports -
3 min read.
It’s tempting to dismiss the recent doping cases in Moroccan football with a wave of the hand, reducing them to individual errors, mishaps, or even injustices. It’s tempting, but dangerous. What’s at stake today goes far beyond a few disciplinary sanctions. Doping, in its contemporary form, is no longer just cheating: it’s a brutal revealer of a deeper dysfunction—an out-of-control sports and health ecosystem, sustained by a comfortable illusion: “football isn’t affected.” For a long time, football has sheltered itself behind a convenient fiction: that of a sport relatively spared from doping, an illusion maintained on a global scale despite well-documented precedents. In Morocco, this fiction persists: every case is treated as an anomaly, never as a signal. That said, what has recently come to light does concern football, but it’s far from the only sport affected. The rise of the Moroccan Anti-Doping Agency (AMAD) and the significant increase in controls have changed the game: what we’re seeing today isn’t necessarily more doping, but more truth. And that truth is unsettling. The narrative of “accidental doping” is increasingly holding up poorly against the facts. The dominant discourse is well-rehearsed: athletes are victims of involuntary doping, from contaminated supplements, poorly prescribed medications, and good-faith errors. This discourse isn’t entirely false. It’s simply incomplete. Because behind “involuntary doping” lies a more troubling reality: a widespread normalization of substance ingestion, in a culture where presumed immediate performance gains take precedence over knowledge, caution, and medical oversight. Yet it’s nearly impossible to prove that ingesting this or that substance enhances sports performance. What is certain and proven, however, are the inevitable health consequences. Anti-doping law is implacable: the athlete is responsible for everything they consume, whether they intended to cheat or not. This principle of strict liability isn’t an injustice, it’s a safeguard. But athletes must first be given the real means to understand what they’re ingesting. Clearly, that’s not the case for a large portion of them today. For elite athletes, controls are there to deter and sanction when necessary. The problem becomes even graver for young people—and not-so-young—who train for themselves, outside the most visible circuits. That’s where supplements represent a new gray area and the heart of the issue, widely underestimated. Supplements have become the gateway to a diffuse, invisible, insidious form of doping. Uncertified products, uncontrolled imports, aggressive marketing: everything conspires to maintain an illusion of safety, while these products are a sanitary blind spot. Their massive consumption among young people is rarely medically supervised. It relies on informal recommendations, locker-room advice, impromptu sellers, and sometimes even social media “influencers.” You can even find them in some souks and dairies. The result is unequivocal: careers shattered over a few grams of unidentified powder, but above all, and most alarmingly, weakened bodies, hormonal disorders, metabolic imbalances appearing earlier and earlier. Doping is no longer just a sports fraud; it’s becoming a full-fledged public health issue. The silence and sometimes passive complicity of clubs and gyms is another blind spot in the system. It takes courage to ask the uncomfortable question: where are the clubs in all this? Few gyms are truly spared. Some don’t hesitate to sell, without the slightest scruple, products whose true composition and potential effects on users’ bodies are known only to their suppliers. And how do you respond to a young person who challenges you: “You tell us these products aren’t good, but the coach says we have to take them”? In many cases, medical oversight is insufficient, if not nonexistent. Young people evolve in an environment where physical appearance is glorified, but scientific and medical culture remains marginal. This void is filled by improvisation and worse, a form of collective abdication of responsibility. When the scandal breaks, the athlete faces the sanction alone. The club vanishes from the story. Yet the law clearly defines the various levels of responsibility: products don’t fall from the sky. This asymmetry is no longer sustainable. Responsibility can no longer be considered solely individual. Doping in Moroccan football, ever since two high-level players have been implicated, can no longer be analyzed solely through the lens of personal fault. It’s the product of an insufficiently regulated supplements market, a lack of structured medical oversight, increasingly early performance pressure, and a sports culture that values results over understanding, in denial of an existing law. In response, the AMAD, based on strict rules, has been tasked with implementing the national anti-doping policy, and it does so brilliantly. For it, mechanically applying rules without fine-tuned adaptation to local realities and without massive education isn’t enough. Sanctioning without educating treats symptoms while ignoring the disease. What needs to change now is no longer marginal correction: the system must be rethought. Concretely: - Mandate medical oversight in all clubs. - Create a national list of certified, controlled, and traceable supplements. - Systematically train young athletes and their coaches on substance risks. - Hold clubs and staff legally accountable, so they can no longer hide behind ignorance or good faith. And above all: drop the general hypocrisy and face reality. Morocco isn’t an isolated case. It’s simply at a turning point. What’s at play today is the shift from marginal doping to a systemic form, not organized, but diffuse, cultural, almost unconscious. Refusing to see it is accepting that a generation of young people will pay the price for this blindness. Doping isn’t just a matter of cheating. It’s a public health issue, and now, a matter of collective responsibility.

GITEX Africa in Marrakech: Showcase of Ambition or Revealer of Contradictions? 9502

Aziz Daouda, 3 mon.
- Politics - Society - Business -
2.9 min read.
In Marrakech, GITEX Africa is closing its doors amid a now-familiar buzz: thousands of exhibitors, tens of thousands of visitors, international delegations, and African startups seeking visibility. Morocco is thus displaying a clear ambition: to become a continental tech hub, or even a Euro-African platform for innovation. But behind this seductive showcase, one question arises acutely: is the country truly giving itself all the means to match its ambitions, however legitimate they may be? Morocco certainly starts with undeniable advantages. Its political stability, modern infrastructure, strategic geographic positioning, investments in telecoms and renewable energies, and the undoubtedly competitive level of its youth and universities make it a serious candidate to host Africa's digital economy. Institutions like UM6P or Technopark Maroc are contributing to the emergence of a dynamic entrepreneurial ecosystem. The talent is there. The will, surely. The ideas, too. And yet. Innovation cannot be decreed; it must be unleashed. The economy of artificial intelligence and startups rests on a fundamental principle: speed. Speed of execution, decision-making, and transactions. Yet in Morocco, this speed is often slowed, hampered. The heart of the problem lies in the paradox of wanting to build a modern digital economy while maintaining administrative logics inherited from a control economy, or one from another era. Initiative and innovation require freedom. Freedom to invest, transfer, trade, test, and often fail. The more constraints there are, the more innovation contracts. Thus, the foreign exchange lock is a structural handicap. The role of the Office des Changes is central in this equation. Designed to protect macroeconomic balances, its regulatory framework now appears out of sync with the demands of the digital age. A Moroccan entrepreneur wanting to pay for a cloud service abroad, raise international funds, sell a SaaS solution overseas, or simply test a global business model often faces delays, caps, or procedures incompatible with modern market realities. Meanwhile, their counterpart in France, London, the "Silicon Valley" of Europe, or today in Germany, Sweden, and the Netherlands, major players supported by strong innovation dynamics and investments in AI and SaaS, can move and close deals much faster. Here, the new economy has found the most fertile ground. Where a startup must act in milliseconds, here it sometimes waits days, even weeks. In a world of instant competition, this lag is fatal. Let’s stay on our continent and ask why other African countries are advancing faster? It’s a disturbing question, but one worth asking without complex: why do countries, sometimes less endowed with infrastructure, attract tech and AI giants more? Ecosystems like those in Lagos, Accra, Nairobi, Mauritius, or Kigali have grasped one essential thing: in the digital economy, regulation must support, not hinder. Rwanda bets on an agile, pro-business administration. Kenya benefits from a liberated and innovative fintech ecosystem. Nigeria, despite its challenges, offers market depth and operational flexibility that seduce investors. Meanwhile, major tech players hesitate to establish a lasting presence in Morocco, despite its structural assets. The risk is becoming a showcase without substance. The danger is clear: events like GITEX Africa could become shiny vitrines disconnected from on-the-ground realities, where others come to do business and leave. A digital economy is not built through international trade shows, but through deep structural reforms. Without that, Morocco risks remaining a stopover rather than an anchor for innovation. To turn ambition into reality, several levers must be activated without delay: - Gradually liberalize the exchange regime. - Enable startups to freely open foreign currency accounts, transfer funds without administrative burdens, and operate internationally in real time. - Establish a true specific framework for tech exporting companies. - Create a “regulatory sandbox” for AI and fintech. Inspired by international models, this setup would allow startups to test innovations in a relaxed framework, under supervision, without immediately facing all regulatory constraints. A "regulatory sandbox" is a controlled testing space for technological innovations. It enables AI and fintech startups to test products in a lightened regulatory environment, supervised by authorities. This is a key concept. Drawing from models like the UK’s FCA or the EU’s AI Act, it creates a secure space where companies experiment without full authorizations and compliance upfront. Regulators oversee to assess risks, limit consumer impact, and adapt future laws. - Accelerate administrative digitalization. Drastically reduce processing times, automate authorizations, and introduce “silence means approval” logic in some cases. - Encourage international venture capital. Facilitate entry and exit for foreign investors, simplify fundraising mechanisms, and secure cross-border operations legally. - Bet on freedom as a strategic driver. This may be the most decisive point. Innovation does not thrive in a climate of suspicion or excessive control. It needs trust. Morocco stands at a crossroads. It can either continue prioritizing control, at the risk of braking its own momentum, or make a bold turn toward greater economic freedom. GITEX Africa is a tremendous opportunity. But it will be an empty symbol if not accompanied by a profound paradigm shift. In the artificial intelligence economy, presence is not enough. Competitiveness is key. The watchword: the modern economy flourishes in milliseconds, needs freedom, and does not tolerate endless administrative delays and controls. If history shows how we missed the industrial revolution, let’s not miss the digital one, as it could weigh on generations to come and thus on the country’s future.

Morocco-Egypt: Strategic Reunion or Fleeting Truce Beneath the Sands of Pragmatism? 9809

Aziz Daouda, 3 mon.
- Politics - Society - Business -
2.5 min read.
Could anyone have imagined this scene in Cairo and Rabat just a short time ago? Yet, just a few days ago, Prime Ministers Aziz Akhannouch, flanked by seven of his ministers, and Mostafa Madbouly, no less well-equipped, signed and oversaw twenty-two agreements, some more significant than others, under the flash of cameras. Official speeches celebrated a "relationship at an unprecedented level." Broad smiles fueled hopes for the long-desired rapprochement between two economic powerhouses in the MENA zone. At first glance, it looks like a grand reunion. But behind this staging, doubtless sincere, a question lingers. Is this a historic turning point or merely an opportunistic convergence driven by recent geopolitical developments? To see clearly, let's dive back into a history heavy with mistrust. As early as 1963, the Sand War saw Gamal Abdel Nasser's Egypt align with Algeria, even pushing it against Morocco, in the name of a Third World pan-Arabism that stigmatized Rabat as a "Western pawn," they chorused. They thought they were on the right side, that of the "Bolshevik revolutionaries"... The goal was obviously to destabilize the monarchy and, why not, bring it down. The debacle was unequivocal. Egypt lost feathers there... and a high-profile prisoner: Hosni Mubarak, who would later become president. Hassan II, in lordly fashion, returned him to Egypt as a magnanimous gift. Later, on the Moroccan Sahara issue, Cairo adopted a cautious but oh-so-vague ambiguity: neither support for the Polisario nor frank backing for Morocco; a tightrope walk that, in Morocco, passed for latent perfidy, especially amid triumphant embraces between Egyptians and Algerians. It was Hosni Mubarak who came begging Hassan II to release the prisoners of war that Boumédiène had lost on the ground at Amgala, with the illustrious Chengriha on the list... Egypt thus seemed to blow hot and cold on the matter. The recent summit undoubtedly marks a pivot. Twenty-two agreements signed to accelerate exchanges and elevate them to levels deemed impossible just days earlier. But the highlight of the meeting is Egypt's alignment with UN Resolution 2797, validating the Kingdom's proposed autonomy as the only viable framework. Rabat, in discreet diplomatic fashion, downplays this support as if it were a given. It's not gratis: it reflects an Arab realignment, possibly ending the ideological divides of the 1960s and prioritizing pragmatism. Iranian threats, and perhaps even Turkish ones, may well play a role. Sisi's Egypt, through this rapprochement, gains a stable ally: the Sharifian Kingdom, a truly diversified and coherent Arab counterweight in all its endeavors. Economically, however, the picture is mixed. The 2006 Agadir Agreements, already linking Morocco, Egypt, and Jordan in a free-trade zone, failed to deliver on all promises. Exchanges have grown, but remain timid due to persistent bureaucracy. Worse, a crisis erupted over cars produced in Morocco, blocked by protectionist taxes. Egypt deemed them insufficiently Moroccan, reigniting the Kingdom's frustrations. These twenty-two new commitments thus aim to rev up the engine, with cross-investments to anchor Morocco in East Africa and open doors for Egypt to the West. The key argument is clear: numbers trump grudges. That said, recent crises—not so distant—prove the situation's fragility, until proven otherwise. We must remain confident in a lasting reconciliation, even if recent popular imaginaries hold it back. Egyptian sports media, in particular, remains broadly virulent against Morocco, betraying a tenacious rivalry. Geopolitically, Algiers will react sharply, forcing Cairo into its usual ambiguity. Will Egypt bow to an Algerian diktat in the name of shared history? It's not out of the question to see Egypt dispatch an envoy to tell the Algerians what they want to hear, softening the disappointment. There are also Egypt's internal vagaries and frequent reshuffles, creating instabilities that threaten the whole. Arab history teaches that alliances are extremely volatile. Yes, a pragmatic era has indeed begun, conditioned by economic convergence beyond the Agadir Agreements. It drives regional stability and the triumph of calculation over ideology. Let's dare hope it's not an emotional reconciliation, but a certain strategic normalization, placing the past in parentheses for the service of the present and at least 150 million people. The agreements must also weather the storms of the Middle East and North Africa, forming a foundation that could seduce the rest of the region's countries toward a true economic continuum respecting the geographic and demographic one. So, Moroccans and Egyptians, appeased and confident, will listen together to Oum Kaltoum sing *Aghadan alqak*... and savor a good tea in the shade of a pyramid or the Hassan Tower...

Brain Drain and Demographic Decline: Morocco's Silent Double Penalty... 10608

Aziz Daouda, 3 mon.
- Politics - Society - Business -
2.7 min read.
Beyond the conventional rhetoric on the Kingdom's modernization and attractiveness, a more worrying reality is gradually emerging: brain drain. Long seen as a side effect of globalization, it is now becoming a structural factor in socio-economic fragility. This dynamic is taking on new proportions as a demographic transition marked by slowdown, or even contraction, of the national pool of talent takes hold. The hemorrhage is old, but it is now becoming critical. The migration of skills is not new in Morocco. For decades, engineers, doctors, researchers, or senior executives have headed to Europe, North America, or more recently, Gulf countries. The reasons are well-known: higher salaries, more attractive working conditions, greater professional recognition, more mature innovation ecosystems, advantageous taxation. In a context of strong demographic growth, this loss was partly absorbed by the continuous expansion of the base of graduates. The education system, despite its limitations, fed a sufficient flow to compensate—at least quantitatively—for the departures. But this equation is changing. The demographic transition, a turning point that cannot be underestimated, will exacerbate the situation further. Morocco has entered an advanced phase of its demographic transition. The decline in the fertility rate, which began in the 1990s, is accelerating and is accompanied by a progressive aging of the population. This phenomenon, often interpreted as a sign of modernization, actually carries profound economic implications. The working-age population, the engine of growth, is tending to stagnate and then decline. The "demographic dividend," which has long supported the country's development, is eroding. In this context, every departure of talent is no longer simply an individual loss; it becomes a systemic shortfall, difficult to compensate for. The socio-economic cost of departures is rising and will be felt more each year. This is where the heart of the problem lies: brain drain, combined with relative demographic decline, generates a cumulative and growing socio-economic cost. First, on the productive front. The loss of rare skills directly affects innovation capacity, business competitiveness, and the country's overall attractiveness. Strategic sectors, health, digital, engineering, scientific research, are the first hit. The case of Moroccan doctors practicing abroad strikingly illustrates this tension. Training a doctor represents a considerable public investment, the benefits of which are often unfortunately captured by other economies. Next, on the fiscal front. Highly qualified profiles are also those who contribute the most to tax revenues and value creation. Their departure shrinks the tax base, undermines budgetary balances, and limits public investment capacities. Finally, on the social front. The scarcity of skills exacerbates territorial and sectoral inequalities. Certain regions or public services find themselves in chronic shortage of qualified personnel, fueling a sense of abandonment and deepening internal fractures. Beyond economic indicators, brain drain leads to an erosion of the "positive externalities" associated with trained elites. An engineer, a researcher, or a doctor does not produce only individual value. They contribute to the diffusion of knowledge, the training of future generations, the emergence of innovative and sustainable ecosystems. When these actors leave the territory, an entire chain of transmission is weakened. The country loses not only skills but also development multipliers. The question is also whether having a large diaspora abroad constitutes an opportunity or merely a compensatory illusion? Faced with this reality, the diaspora argument is often put forward as a counterweight. Financial transfers from Moroccans residing abroad are indeed a significant resource. Similarly, diaspora networks can facilitate investments and know-how transfers. However, this view deserves nuance. Financial remittances, however significant, do not replace the physical presence of skills nor their daily contribution to the national economy. As for returns of experience or investments, they remain marginal compared to the scale of departures. It is therefore necessary to imagine and implement a genuine strategy for retaining and circulating talent. Faced with this double constraint, brain drain and demographic contraction, Morocco can no longer settle for partial responses. This is now a major, even urgent, strategic challenge. Several levers can be considered: - Improve working conditions and remuneration in key sectors, particularly health and research. - Deeply reform the education system to better align training with market needs and promote scientific and technical fields. - Encourage the return of skills through targeted incentives (fiscal, professional, academic). - Develop innovation ecosystems capable of retaining talent by offering career prospects and opportunities for creation. - Implement a "brain circulation" policy, favoring back-and-forth movements rather than permanent departures. What was yesterday a worrying problem is today a structural threat and therefore demands strategic urgency. In a context of progressively scarce qualified human resources, every departure counts more, every loss weighs heavier. Brain drain, combined with the demographic transition, thus constitutes a silent double penalty for Morocco. It calls for awareness on the scale of the stakes: no longer just curbing departures, but rethinking the development model in depth to make human capital, rare and precious, the heart of the national strategy. For, in the end, a country's true wealth lies neither in its natural resources nor in its infrastructure, but in the quality, creativity, and commitment of its women and men.

Morocco and the Trust Economy: The Invisible Capital of Development... 10265

Aziz Daouda, 3 mon.
- Politics - Society - Business -
2.9 min read.
In the economic history of nations, some assets are visible, such as natural resources, geographical position, infrastructure, or market size. Others, however, are invisible but often decisive. Among them, trust holds a central place and constitutes the true cement of sustainable economies. An economy can survive with few natural resources, but it cannot prosper sustainably without trust. Morocco today has many assets: remarkable political stability, a strategic position, world-class infrastructure, and active economic diplomacy. Yet, the decisive step in development now consists of building a true trust economy, capable of sustainably reassuring citizens, entrepreneurs, and investors. This is not a slogan. Trust is an institutional and cultural architecture that is built over time. It is the primary capital of a modern economy and a determining factor. It reduces transaction costs, encourages investment, facilitates innovation, and stimulates individual initiative. When an entrepreneur knows that the rules of the game are stable, that contracts will be respected, and that justice is swift and independent, he invests more easily. When a citizen trusts the tax administration and institutions, he more willingly accepts taxes and participates in the formal economy. Conversely, a lack of trust generates precautionary behaviors: capital flight, informality, low long-term investment. The economy then becomes cautious, fragmented, and inefficient. For Morocco, the central question is therefore not only to attract investments, but to create an environment where trust becomes a collective reflex. It would be unfair not to recognize the considerable progress made over the past decades. The foundations are solid. The country has massively invested in infrastructure: Tanger Med is today one of the world's most important logistics hubs. Nador and Dakhla are coming soon. Industrial zones have enabled the emergence of high-performing sectors, in the automotive industry with Renault Group and Stellantis, and in aeronautics with Boeing, Airbus, and Safran. The country's ambition in energy transition is exemplary. This shows that it is capable of carrying out structuring projects and offering a stable macroeconomic environment. However, the next step in development requires a qualitative leap: moving from an opportunity economy to a trust economy with a determining role for the rule of law. Trust first rests on the solidity of institutions. For investors as for entrepreneurs, the predictability of rules is a decisive element. Laws must be stable, readable, and applied equally, with three particularly crucial dimensions: **The independence and efficiency of justice** A swift, accessible, and credible justice system is the keystone of any trust economy. Commercial disputes must be resolved within reasonable timeframes. Judicial decisions must be enforced without ambiguity. Legal security is often the primary factor of attractiveness. **Fiscal stability** Investors do not necessarily expect very low tax rates; they primarily seek stability and readability. Predictable taxation allows companies to plan investments over the long term. Morocco has already undertaken several major tax reforms, but the challenge now is to go further and consolidate a clear and durable fiscal pact. **The fight against rents and privileges** Trust disappears when the rules of the game seem unequal. A dynamic economy relies on fair competition and equal opportunities. Transparency in public markets, competition regulation, and limiting rent situations are essential levers. A trust economy is also an economy of freedom, capable of unleashing entrepreneurial energy. The freedom to enterprise, innovate, and experiment is one of the fundamental engines of growth. Morocco has a talented youth, competent engineers, and an influential diaspora. However, several obstacles remain: administrative complexity, access to financing for SMEs, slowness of certain procedures. The challenge is to create an environment where individual initiative becomes the norm rather than the exception. Moroccan startups in fintech, artificial intelligence, or agricultural technologies already demonstrate the country's potential. With a more fluid ecosystem, they could become tomorrow's economic champions. In a world marked by geopolitical uncertainty and economic recompositions, trust also becomes a comparative advantage. If Morocco manages to position itself as a country where rules are stable, justice reliable, and administration predictable, it could become one of the main investment platforms between Europe and Africa. This ambition aligns with the Kingdom's African strategies and its growing international openness. Trust could thus become Morocco's true economic hallmark. Several strategic orientations deserve to be prioritized: - Accelerate the modernization of the judicial system, particularly in handling commercial disputes and enforcing judicial decisions. - Radically simplify administrative procedures for businesses through complete digitalization of public services. - Establish multi-year fiscal stability to enhance visibility. - Promote transparency and fair competition in all economic sectors. - Strengthen training and valorization of human capital, particularly in technological and scientific fields. - Develop a culture of trust between the State, businesses, and citizens. This dimension is often overlooked, yet it constitutes the invisible foundation of development. Morocco finds itself today at a pivotal moment in its economic history. The infrastructure is in place, strategic ambitions are affirmed, and the international environment offers new opportunities. The next step therefore consists of building a sustainable trust ecosystem. If Morocco succeeds in this gamble, and it must, it could not only accelerate its development but also become one of the most credible and attractive economies in the emerging world. In the 21st-century global economy, trust is undoubtedly the rarest and most powerful capital.

Football: When Passion Kills the Game in Impunity and Tolerance.. 10835

Aziz Daouda, 3 mon.
- Society - Sports -
2.7 min read.
Football (Soccer for Americans) is first and foremost a matter of emotions. By its very essence, it is an open-air theater where human passions play out in their rawest, most primal form. It generates joy, anger, pride, humiliation, and a sense of belonging. From the stands of Camp Nou to those of the Diego Armando Maradona Stadium, through the fervor of the Mohamed V sport Complex in Casablanca, the vibrant enclosures of Stade Léopold Sédar Senghor in Dakar, or even the Parc des Princes in Paris, the Vélodrome In Marseille, and the Bernabeu In Madrid, football transcends the mere framework of the game to become a total social phenomenon. But this emotional intensity, which makes football's beauty, also constitutes its danger. For without rigorous regulation, it quickly tips into excess, then into violence. Today, it must be acknowledged that the rules exist, but they are too often circumvented, stripped of their substance, or applied with disconcerting leniency. On the pitches as in the stands, excesses are multiplying: insults toward referees, provocations between players, systematic challenges, physical violence, projectile throwing, pitch invasions, xenophobic remarks, racist offenses. What was once the exception is tending to become a tolerated norm. Astonishingly, we are starting to get used to it. Recent examples are telling. In Spain, in stadiums renowned for their football culture, racist chants continue to be belted out without shame, targeting players like Vinícius Júnior. Most recently, it was the Muslim community that was insulted. And yet, Spain's current football prodigy is Muslim. An overheated crowd that has doubtless forgotten it wasn't so long ago that it was Muslim itself. Among those chanting these remarks, and without a doubt, some still carry the genes of that recent past... In Dakar, just a few days ago, clashes escalated, turning a sports celebration into a scene of chaos. In Italy, incidents involving supporters who invaded the pitch, during a friendly match, no less, endangered players and officials, recalling the dark hours of European hooliganism in the 1980s. These episodes are not isolated; they reflect a worrying normalization of violence in and around stadiums. Even at the highest level of African football, behavioral excesses are becoming problematic. The 2025 Africa Cup of Nations final left a bitter taste. What should have been a moment of celebration for continental football was marred by behaviors contrary to sporting ethics. Pressures on refereeing, excessive challenges, and game interruptions have become commonplace. When a coach manipulates a match's rhythm to influence a refereeing decision, it is no longer strategy but a challenge to the very foundations of the sport. Despite international outrage, the sanctions imposed on teams, clubs, or players involved remain often symbolic, insufficient to eradicate these behaviors. A very surprising phenomenon: rarely have clubs or federations clearly distanced themselves from such crowds. They accommodate them, and when they condemn them, it is half-heartedly, in a muffled, timid tone with no effect. The problem is twofold. On one hand, disciplinary regulations exist but lack firmness. On the other, their application suffers from a lack of consistency and political courage. Bodies like FIFA, continental confederations, and national federations hesitate to impose truly dissuasive sanctions such as point deductions, prolonged closed-door matches, competition exclusions, or even administrative relegations. Yet without fear of sanction, the rule loses all effectiveness. It suffices to compare with other sports to measure the gap. In rugby, for example, respect for the referee is a cardinal value. The slightest challenge is immediately sanctioned. In athletics, a false start leads to immediate disqualification, no discussion. Football, meanwhile, still tolerates too many behaviors that should be unacceptable. This permissiveness has a cost. It undermines football's image, discourages some families from attending stadiums, and endangers the safety of the game's actors. More gravely, it paves the way for future tragedies. History has already taught us, through catastrophes like the Heysel Stadium disaster, that violence in stadiums can have tragic consequences. It is therefore urgent to react. Regulating football does not mean killing its soul, but rather preserving it. It is not about extinguishing passions, but channeling them. This requires strong measures, exemplary sanctions against offending clubs and players, accountability for national federations, increased use of technology to identify troublemakers, and above all, a clear political will from national and international governing bodies. Football cannot continue to be this "market of emotion" left to its own devices. For by tolerating the intolerable, it risks losing what makes its greatness and its ability to unite rather than divide. If FIFA does not decide to act firmly, the danger is real: that of seeing football sink into a spiral where violence triumphs over the game, and where, one day, tragedies exceed the mere framework of sport. The long-awaited decision of the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS) in the 2025 AFCON final case should confirm rigor and integrity in the application of rules, at least at this level, thereby strengthening the credibility of the pan-African competition and football in general.

Eternal Morocco, Unbreakable Morocco: The Identity That Triumphs Over Exile... 10851

Aziz Daouda, 3 mon.
- Politics - History - Society -
2.1 min read.
There are affiliations that geography dissolves over time, and others that it strengthens as distance sets in. The Moroccan experience undoubtedly falls into the second category. Across generations, sometimes up to the third or fourth, a phenomenon intrigues. Women and men born far from Morocco continue to recognize themselves in it, to feel attached to it, to project themselves into it. They have left the country or never lived there long-term; they were born far away, but Morocco has never left them. How to explain such persistence? Why does this loyalty cut across social classes, faiths, degrees of religiosity, and even nationalities acquired elsewhere? How is a memory so indelible? How does it withstand the test of time, distance, and new cultural acquisitions, if not through the profound weight of national consciousness? Morocco is not merely a modern state born from 20th-century recompositions. It is an ancient historical construct, shaped by centuries, even millennia, of political and civilizational continuity. Dynasties like the Almoravids, Almohads, Merinids, Saadians, or Alaouites forged a stable political and symbolic space whose permanence transcends apparent ruptures. This historical depth irrigates the collective imagination. It gives Moroccans, including those in the diaspora, the sense of belonging to a history that precedes and surpasses them. Being Moroccan is not just a nationality. It is an inscription in a continuity, a composite identity forged by inclusion. Moroccan identity has been built through sedimentation. It is Amazigh, African, Arab, Andalusian, Hebraic. These are layers that coexist in a singular balance, complementing and interweaving without exclusion. This ancient plurality explains Moroccans' ability to embrace diversity without identity rupture. Thus, a Jewish Moroccan in Europe or a naturalized Muslim elsewhere often shares a common affective reference to Morocco, not out of ignorance of differences, but because they fit into a shared historical and geographical framework. This inclusive identity enables a rarity: remaining deeply Moroccan without renouncing other affiliations, with the monarchy serving as a symbolic thread. In this complex architecture, the monarchy plays a structuring role. Under Mohammed VI, it embodies historical continuity and contemporary stability. For Moroccans abroad, the link to the Throne goes beyond politics. It touches the symbolic and the affective, a dimension fully grasped only by Moroccans. It acts as a fixed point in a shifting world, offering permanence amid changes in language, environment, or citizenship. This transmission occurs invisibly in the family, in rituals. It is not a memory but living, sensitive memories. The diffusion and transfer also manifest in cuisines with ancestral recipes, in music and sounds, in living rooms echoing with Darija, through summers "back home," gestures, intonations, moussems, or hiloulas. Moroccan identity is transmitted less through discourse than through sensory experiences: tastes, smells, rhythms, hospitality. Thus, generations born abroad feel a belonging not formally learned, an active loyalty blending affection and claimed will. The diaspora does not settle for abstract attachment. It acts. Financial transfers, investments, public commitments, and defense of Moroccan positions internationally bear witness. This operational patriotism extends affection into action, a duty to the nation, a Moroccan loyalty. Moroccans may be exiles, but never uprooted. For the Moroccan diaspora, attachment transcends oceans. Even in political, economic, or academic roles abroad, Moroccains carry their country of origin explicitly or implicitly. The otherness of host societies reinforces this identity. The external gaze consolidates this sense of belonging to a culture so distinctive that it crystallizes, is claimed, and magnified. This phenomenon, intense among Moroccans, compels us to name what went without saying in the homeland: a continuity at a distance. Neither frozen nostalgia nor mere inheritance, this relationship is a profound dynamic. Morocco is not just a place; it is the bond that spans generations, adapts without diluting, reminding us that exile does not undo all affiliations. Morocco is in our daily lives, in a perennial, solid, and unyielding memory that defies borders and time.

AFCON 2025: The Trophy that Sets the Savannah Ablaze.. 10213

Aziz Daouda, 3 mon.
- Politics - Society - Sports -
2.4 min read.
There are moments when football stops being a game and becomes a brutal revealer of a continent's institutional and political fragilities. The current crisis surrounding the Africa Cup of Nations (AFCON) is the perfect illustration. Between the rigorous application of regulations, the credibility of the Confederation of African Football (CAF), media pressure, and reactions from the Senegalese Football Federation, the affair now extends far beyond sports into a much broader realm, intertwining law, sovereignty, and diplomacy. At its origin, a disciplinary decision that, under normal circumstances, would have been a simple sporting dispute. But the context, symbolism, and players involved have turned this file into a full-blown crisis. The CAF, as the regulatory body, faces a fundamental demand: to enforce its own rules without yielding to pressure. Any weakness in applying the law would open the door to widespread challenges to its authority, including revisiting past decisions and verdicts. In this sense, the decision taken, however contested, fits into a logic of institutional preservation. However, law, as essential as it is, cannot be entirely divorced from its political and emotional environment. Today's events provide perfect proof. The Senegalese side's reaction, perceived as an offense or challenge to the decision, reveals a deeper malaise: a sense of injustice, real or supposed, amplified by a public opinion whipped into a frenzy by a flood of increasingly belligerent statements and remarks. Social media, TV panels, and certain official discourses have turned a legal matter into a symbolic clash between nations. In response, the Royal Moroccan Football Federation remains silent, stoic, calm, and discreet. This is where the main danger lies. Beyond texts and procedures, it is historical relations, built over decades of solidarity and brotherhood, that are now exposed to unnecessary tension. African football, long presented as a vector of unity, risks here becoming a factor of division. And this drift, if not contained, could leave lasting scars. That's precisely what the occult forces, or not so occult, stoking the fire are aiming for. In this climate of escalation, the temptation is great for each side to harden its position. Yet, the history of sports conflicts shows that escalation is rarely a solution. It weakens institutions, undermines competition credibility, and, above all, distances the public from the essentials: fair and credible play. The central question then becomes: how far will this showdown go? A peaceful outcome necessarily requires a return to calm and reason. This does not mean renouncing one's rights or silencing disagreements, but framing them in a controlled manner. Appeal mechanisms exist, whether through direct sports jurisdictions or, if necessary, the international body that is the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS). Its role is precisely to settle such disputes with impartiality and rigor. Awaiting the verdict from this body, even if it is slow, means accepting that law takes precedence over emotion. It also means recognizing that the credibility of African football's components depends on their ability to resolve disputes in line with the rules they have set for themselves. Any other path, pressure, excessive politicization, or media confrontation, would only entrench and worsen the crisis. At its core, this affair raises an essential question about the governance model for African football. A model subject to power plays and momentary emotions, or one based on solid, respected institutions capable of enforcing the law, even when it stings? Ultimately, African football bodies didn't fall from the sky. They are the emanation of a democratic process in which Africa's 54 countries participate in good conscience. The answer to this question will determine not only the outcome of this crisis but also the future of football on the continent. Beyond the present case, the credibility of an entire sports architecture is at stake. In the immediate term, one thing is clear: the time for appeasement must follow that of confrontation and escalation. Preserving the essentials and consolidating fraternity among African peoples is worth far more than a sports victory, even an Africa Cup of Nations trophy. Alas, this is beyond those whose vision doesn't extend past the end of their nose. The CAS will speak soon. Then we'll see who is right or wrong under strict application of the law, with no further recourse possible except a return to reason. Wouldn't it be better, in the meantime, to keep a cool head, maintain lucidity, and calm down? A trophy is only raised when it is deserved—truly deserved.

Morocco: 113 kg thrown away per person, the imperative of an anti-food waste strategy... 11007

Aziz Daouda, 4 mon.
- Politics - Society - Business -
2.4 min read.
The latest opinion, prepared by the Economic, Social, and Environmental Council (CESE) as part of a self-referral, is titled “Food Loss and Waste in Morocco: Scale of the Phenomenon and Challenges for Effective Intervention.” It analyzes the causes of this phenomenon and its repercussions at the national level, while proposing levers to sustainably transform production, distribution, and consumption patterns. The goal is to align these changes with national priorities in terms of sustainability, food sovereignty, and security. This phenomenon is global, and its impacts continue to grow. In Morocco, its scale and specific effects deserve particular attention, which is why this opinion is highly important and should not remain a dead letter. It represents a genuine theme for the next electoral campaign, provided that political parties are capable of generating ideas in this direction. On a global scale, according to the United Nations Environment Programme, the food value chain recorded a loss of about 13.2% between harvest and retail sale in 2022. Waste at the household, restaurant, and retail levels then accounted for nearly 19% of total food production. The trend is similar in Morocco. According to the 2024 Food Waste Index, Moroccan households threw away around 2.4 million tons of food in 2022, or 113 kg per person per year, compared to 91 kg in 2021. Losses and waste occur at all stages of the food value chain. In the initial phases, production, harvest, storage, and transport, certain sectors, particularly fruits, vegetables, and cereals, record losses of 20 to 40%. At later stages, waste stems from commercial practices and inadequate behaviors: excessive purchases, lack of knowledge about preservation methods, and low valorization of unsold goods. This leads to high economic and social costs. These losses impose significant burdens on producers and distributors, reduce food availability, and heighten the vulnerability of low-income populations. They also put pressure on natural resources: the CESE estimates that 6.1 billion m³ of water is mobilized annually to produce food that will never be consumed. Food waste, moreover, pollutes and contributes to greenhouse gas emissions, underscoring the urgency of greater coordination. To date, institutional responses, where they exist, remain fragmented and ineffective. Despite some public and private initiatives, actions are scattered due to the lack of a specific legal framework, an integrated national vision, and effective governance. The CESE rightly considers reducing these losses and waste a major strategic challenge, to be placed at the heart of a national strategy for sustainable food. This would strengthen food sovereignty and security, preserve resources, rationalize imports and inputs, and promote a more equitable and resilient model in the face of crises. In this context, the Council recommends a specific action plan, integrable into the national strategy, with key recommendations: - Adopt a law against food loss and waste, prohibiting the destruction of unsold goods and facilitating donations to associations, social institutions, and food banks. - Clarify consumption dates: “to be consumed by” (health safety) and “best before” (quality). - Establish multisectoral governance involving public authorities, the private sector, and civil society. - Create a national observatory to collect data, produce indicators, and propose corrective measures. - Integrate waste reduction targets into public policies, particularly for catering in hospitals, schools, social centers, and prisons. - Develop storage and transport infrastructure, such as solar-powered refrigerated warehouses in agricultural regions. - Promote short supply chains to limit intermediaries and transport losses. - Encourage recycling of surpluses, such as solidarity fridges and food donations. The fight against food loss and waste goes beyond mere resource management: it is a lever for food security, agricultural efficiency, and environmental preservation. In a context of water scarcity, climate pressures, and growing needs, this battle is imperative for a sustainable and resilient Moroccan food system. Ultimately, it will effectively curb inflation and support the national economy. This strategy has every chance of succeeding, thanks to cultural and religious factors. Waste (isrâf or tabdhîr) is religiously prohibited as a sign of ingratitude toward divine blessings. The Quran states: “Eat and drink, but do not commit excess, for Allah does not love the wasteful,” Surah al-A‘râf. The use of goods is permitted, but excess is condemned. The scale of this phenomenon in Morocco makes it an urgent political issue, requiring effective and lasting action. It could be a true program for the next executive, if it becomes aware of it.

Paradoxical Ramadan: Piety, Irritability, Overconsumption and Slumping Productivity... 10815

Aziz Daouda, 4 mon.
Every year, Ramadan settles in Morocco as a form of collective breathing space. Daily rhythms change or are inverted, habits are reorganized or fall apart, nights come alive and days slow down. A sacred month par excellence, it is first and foremost a time of fasting, contemplation, piety and solidarity. But it is also, increasingly, a national paradox: intense spiritual fervor coexists with heightened social irritability, massive food waste and a noticeable drop in productivity. Ramadan, as it is prescribed and recommended, is a time of inner discipline. Fasting is not just abstaining from food; it is self‑control, restraint, patience. Religious scholars and schoolteachers insist on the moral dimension of fasting: refraining from anger, insults and injustice. In short, putting aside all forms of deceitfulness. Yet in contemporary Moroccan reality, the holy month sometimes seems to produce the opposite effect. It becomes the month of unjustified social tension. In large cities such as Casablanca, Rabat or Marrakech, if the mornings are relatively calm, late afternoon turns into a critical moment. Traffic is saturated, impatience is palpable, and road altercations become more frequent. Emergency services and police stations traditionally observe an increase in minor conflicts and aggressive behavior at the end of the day. There is also a rise in cases handled by gastro‑enterology and other specialties… People eat too much, and poorly. Fasting, combined with lack of sleep due to long evenings after iftar and waking up for suhoor, among other things, affects physiological balance. Irritability, reduced concentration and chronic fatigue become commonplace. In a country where emotional regulation is already under strain in everyday life, Ramadan acts as an amplifier. This nervousness is by no means a religious inevitability; it is a sociological consequence of how the month is organized, in a way that has gradually drifted away from its original spirit of moderation, self‑mastery and day‑and‑night contemplation. The immediate consequence is a slump in productivity. On the economic front, the impact is tangible. Administrative working hours are reduced, offices empty out in the afternoon without valid reasons, and construction sites run in slow motion. In some sectors, the drop in activity is accepted; in others, it causes structural delays. Ramadan excuses and explains everything. People shift the burden of their disengagement onto the community without the slightest embarrassment. Morocco aspires to accelerate its growth, attract investment and improve its competitiveness. Yet for nearly one month every year, the economy runs in degraded mode. The private sector adapts, but at what cost? The drop in productivity is not only quantitative; it is also qualitative: decisions are postponed, meetings cut short, projects delayed. The public administration and its staff amplify all this. It would be caricatural to place the blame on religion. The problem is not Ramadan; it is the absence of a culture of performance that is compatible with spiritual requirements. Output and accountability ought to be part of the values of the holy month. Another major contradiction is the paradox of food waste. While fasting is supposed to remind us of the hunger of the poorest, iftar tables are overloaded. Multiple soups, an abundance of pastries, redundant dishes. Markets are booming, food spending rises sharply, and a significant part of what is bought ends up in the trash. Wallets empty out and suffer. This phenomenon reveals a cultural transformation that may be surprising: Ramadan has partly become a social and consumerist event. Large retailers post their best figures, advertising intensifies, and TV channels compete with special programming to capture a deliberately captive nocturnal audience. At the start of the month, national channels record more than 70% of total viewership, a share they are far from reaching under normal circumstances, as Moroccans are very fond of foreign channels. The month of frugality paradoxically turns into a month of overconsumption. One can then ask: is this authentic spirituality, or a social ritualization? It would be unfair to reduce Moroccan Ramadan to its excesses. Thousands of solidarity initiatives emerge. Associations, mosques and volunteers distribute meals and aid to the most vulnerable. Families come together, intergenerational ties are strengthened. The mosque regains a vibrant centrality. The issue, therefore, is not to criticize Ramadan, but to question its contemporary practice. Are we faithful to its spirit, or prisoners of cultural habits that distort its meaning? If the holy month becomes synonymous with chronic fatigue, road rage, weakened productivity and waste, then there is a gap between the spiritual principle and its social translation. It is certainly time to advocate for a Ramadan of responsibility. A calm national debate is needed: how can we reconcile spiritual requirements with collective performance? How can we preserve the sacredness of the month while maintaining the efficiency of institutions? How can we turn fasting into a lever for self‑discipline rather than a pretext for slackness? Ramadan could be a laboratory for positive transformation: learning self‑control, optimizing time, rationalizing consumption, structuring solidarity. It could become a month of moral and professional excellence. Morocco, a country of deep religious tradition and clear economic ambition, has every interest in taking up this challenge. Because beyond productivity statistics or scenes of urban irritation, the real question is this: are we turning Ramadan into a simple collective ritual, or into a genuine exercise in inner and social reform? The answer, each year, is played out in the streets, offices and homes, and above all in each person’s conscience. We have a little less than two weeks left to think about it… seriously.

Walid Regragui: A Demonstration of Moroccan Competence... 11998

Aziz Daouda, 4 mon.
- History - Society - Sports -
2.7 min read.
Sometimes, we witness a rare moment when a man, a team, and a nation converge to write a page of history. They leave a lasting mark on collective memory and redefine our perception of our own capabilities. Having been both a participant and observer, I am perhaps better positioned than others to gauge its significance and depth. The Moroccan national team's epic at the Qatar World Cup undoubtedly belongs to this category. And at its heart stands one man: Walid Regragui. When he was appointed Morocco's head coach in August 2022, just three months before the World Cup, the national team's situation was uncertain. The previous coach had bluntly stated: "You don't have a team for the World Cup." The atmosphere around the squad was tense, with questions about group cohesion and doubts over its ability to compete with football's giants. Many thought we'd make a quick trip to Doha and head home. In just a few weeks, Regragui achieved what few coaches accomplish in years: rebuilding a cohesive unit, restoring confidence, and giving the national team a clear identity it had never had before. The results exceeded all expectations. The man appointed somewhat by default, somewhat by chance, simply stunned the world. At that World Cup, Morocco made history. The Atlas Lions topped their group ahead of Croatia and Belgium. In the round of 16, they eliminated Spain after an intense tactical battle decided on penalties. In the quarterfinals, they beat Portugal, and how! A tactical masterclass for Regragui and his squad. They became the first African nation to reach the semifinals. We couldn't even have dreamed it. This performance cemented Morocco's place in world football history. Such heights aren't reached by chance. It takes profound depth. This marked the start of a series of achievements, vindicating a royal vision launched when the Sovereign inaugurated the Mohammed VI Football Academy. But beyond the historic fourth-place finish, the epic's impact was immense. It transformed the international image of Moroccan football. Above all, it sparked a huge wave of pride across Morocco, Africa, and the Arab world. This success wasn't just sporting; it was deeply symbolic. Walid Regragui's journey first illustrates the rise of Moroccan talent. A former international who wore Morocco's colors for over a decade, he built a solid coaching career. His continental triumph with Wydad Athletic Club in the 2022 CAF Champions League was a major milestone. His contribution went beyond trophies. Regragui imposed a clear vision of play and human management. In a squad of players from Europe's top leagues: Spain, France, England, Italy, he forged remarkable unity with unyielding attacking power. He also leveraged the dual culture of many Moroccan internationals, turning diversity into collective strength. Tactically, his team stood out with rigorous defensive organization. Under his leadership, Morocco became one of the world's stingiest defenses, conceding few goals against the most fearsome attacks. But what truly impressed observers was the human dimension of his leadership. Regragui forged a direct bond between the national team and its public. Through simple, sincere, often emotional communication, he made fans feel the team truly belonged to them—to the point where public "interventionism" grew intrusive toward the end, irritating and hurting him. In a country where trust in national talent has often been debated, the Regragui experience is a shining demonstration. It proves Moroccan competence exists, can handle the biggest challenges, and excels at the highest level when trust is in place. In this sense, the 2022 epic transcends football. It bolstered collective confidence in our abilities. It reminded us Morocco can produce talent, not just players, but coaches, leaders, and sports executives. The Moroccan coaches trusted by the federation all overperformed. Morocco became a football powerhouse thanks to Sektoui, Amouta, Sellami, Baha, Dguig, Chiba, and of course, Mohamed Ouahbi. For those of us who devoted our lives to building national sport, this message is vital. Sports development isn't just about infrastructure, budgets, or competitions. It hinges, perhaps above all, on trusting our own competence. In months, Walid Regragui embodied that trust. He showed a Moroccan coach could lead at the world stage, face football's elite, and make history in the planet's most prestigious tournament. For all these reasons, his work deserves recognition and respect, just like that of the coaches who, alongside me, elevated Morocco to the top of world athletics rankings: Kada, Ouajou, Ayachi, Boutayeb, Sahere, Bouihiri, and others. Beyond results and stats, Regragui will be remembered as the man who made millions of Moroccans believe, during that World Cup and beyond, that anything was possible. In sport as in nations' lives, such moments are precious. They remind us collective success often starts with a simple conviction: belief in ourselves. For what he brought to Moroccan football, the image he gave our country, and the inspiration for future coaches and sports leaders, it's only right to say today, sincerely and gratefully: Thank you, Walid. I had the privilege of handing him his first "Best Coach of the Year" trophy. He had just won the title with FUS.

Floods in Morocco: An Emergency Mastered, Lessons to Be Learned... 11873

Aziz Daouda, 4 mon.
- Politics - Society - Business -
2.5 min read.
The recent floods in Morocco have once again tested the resilience of the state and society. Faced with the sudden rise of waters, the authorities' response was remarkably comprehensive: over 180,000 citizens were quickly evacuated from at-risk areas, transported to safe locations, housed, fed, and provided medical care under conditions that earned admiration beyond our borders. In Ksar El Kébir, as in many surrounding douars and hamlets in neighboring provinces, residents have now returned home. During their absence, their homes and belongings were very well secured. This emergency phase, marked by the mobilization of security forces, civil protection, and local authorities, demonstrated that when it comes to protecting human lives, the Moroccan state knows how to act with great efficiency, remarkable speed, and unwavering humanism. Few countries in the world can rival the Kingdom in managing disasters. Now, with the emotion subsided and populations back home, it's time for assessments and accountability. The emergency was perfectly managed; the time for pinpointing responsibilities has arrived. No one can defy nature. That's a given. Extreme weather phenomena, set to multiply due to climate change, now strike with unpredictable intensity. Floods, flash floods, road or bridge collapses are not unique to Morocco. They affect the most developed countries, with the most sophisticated infrastructure. However, a legitimate question arises: do all the observed destruction stem solely from the force of nature? When recently built roads give way, when engineering structures collapse after just a few years or even months of use, when drainage systems prove manifestly undersized, it becomes essential to question the quality of technical studies, the rigor of specifications, site inspections, and the compliance of materials used. Incompetence on the part of some, shoddy work by others, or corruption by certain individuals, these three hypotheses must be examined without taboo. Technical studies may well be insufficient or outdated. Climate data has evolved. If infrastructure is designed based on old models, it becomes inherently vulnerable. Yesterday's "exceptional" floods may be tomorrow's normal ones. Sometimes, it's poor workmanship in project execution that causes problems. A bridge, a dam, or a road doesn't fail solely under water pressure; it also fails when standards are not respected, inspections are lax, or technical oversight is deficient. We cannot dismiss outright possible malfeasance and corrupt practices. This is the gravest hypothesis. When public budgets are allocated to infrastructure meant to open up areas, streamline communications, or protect populations, every dirham diverted becomes a factor of vulnerability. In a country with limited resources, squandering public funds is not just a moral failing; it becomes a direct threat to citizens' safety. Transparent investigations are therefore essential. This is not about fueling widespread suspicion or casting blame on all public or private actors. The recent mobilization proves the opposite: the state apparatus is capable of excellence and fully committing to effectively resolve grave problems. But it is precisely to preserve this credibility that serious, independent, and transparent investigations must be conducted on the damaged infrastructure. There is no doubt the administration will identify structures that degraded abnormally quickly; examine tender processes; and verify compliance with prevailing standards. It remains crucial to ensure the publication of findings and, where applicable, to sanction faults if identified and responsibilities clearly assigned. Impunity would send a disastrous message. Conversely, accountability would strengthen citizens' trust in institutions, and God knows we need it in these times. For the future, better to prevent than to cure. Floods will always happen; material damage too. But what is unacceptable is infrastructure supposed to withstand predictable floods from certain wadis collapsing due to negligence or greed. Every dirham invested in prevention must yield maximum security. In a constrained budget context, the efficiency of public spending becomes a strategic imperative. Investing in durable infrastructure, thoroughly studied, adapted to new climate realities, rigorously controlled, and shielded from corruption, is less costly than endless reconstruction after each disaster. This is a full collective responsibility. The flood episode, like the previous earthquakes in Al Hoceïma and the Haouz, showcased the best of Morocco: solidarity, mobilization, operational efficiency. The challenge now is to draw structural lessons in rigor. Protecting citizens doesn't stop at emergency evacuation. It begins much earlier—in engineering offices, tender committees, control labs, and the traceability and oversight of public contracts. The true tribute to the 180,000 evacuated citizens is not just praising their resilience, but ensuring rebuilt infrastructure meets the highest standards. Nature is powerful, but negligence and corruption are catastrophes we can—and must—prevent. One thing is already certain: no more building in flood-prone areas.