Society on Bluwr.

My Father's Pen 183

Boucharfou, 13 h.

- Society - Lifestyle - Philosophy -

1.5 min read.

I have known it since I was young. My late father, then a school principal, gave me my first pen when I passed my primary school certificate in June 1966, to replace my dip pen, penholder, and inkwell. He taught me how to hold it between my thumb and index finger and how to improve my handwriting in both Arabic and French. He taught me to choose the best verb, the best sentence to express my feelings and reveal my emotions of the moment. He instilled in me the art of juggling with the taxonomy of verbs and, subsequently, the choice of the best tense for conjugating them. He never stopped repeating to me that the solemnity of the moment required a faithful reflection of the recount of events, whether actually experienced or imagined. He taught me to reflect on what I was going to write before drafting and consulting. He had the art and manner of transmitting his knowledge to me with passion and love. He took all the time for this patiently, never reprimanding me for a spelling mistake or when I rolled my Rs. He knew that by doing so, he succeeded in setting me on the right path for drafting, narration, pronunciation, and written and oral expression. I often used to lock myself in my studio, which was located in the garden of our staff housing at the Sidi Amr school in Meknes. This is how I began to write short stories, poems, and even love letters to an imaginary beloved. I also kept my personal diary. My French teacher in the first year, called the observation class, at Moulay Ismail High School, Mr. Rossetti, encouraged me to write. My pen was a precious tool for me, allowing me to express everything I felt at that time of my life. For me, it was a way not only to entertain myself but also to consolidate a gift for writing and composing poems. My father supervised what I produced in writing from a distance and had the art and manner of correcting my essays while encouraging me to move forward. My "vocabulary" capital grew day by day. I had gotten into the habit of writing in one go, without resorting to a draft. Now that I am nearing seventy, I continue to write with a disconcerting ease that surprises those around me. For me, there is nothing surprising, because I possess genes transmitted by my father, an outstanding teacher and school principal who officiated for more than forty years and who, like me and my brothers and sisters, trained hundreds and hundreds of students. May he rest in peace and know that his pen is in good hands. Dr. Fouad Bouchareb All rights reserved November 27, 2025

My Father's Pen 223

Boucharfou, 18 h.

- Society - Lifestyle - Biography -

1.5 min read.

I have known it since I was young. My late father, then a school principal, gave me my first pen when I passed my primary school certificate in June 1966, to replace my dip pen, penholder, and inkwell. He taught me how to hold it between my thumb and index finger and how to improve my handwriting in both Arabic and French. He taught me to choose the best verb, the best sentence to express my feelings and reveal my emotions of the moment. He instilled in me the art of juggling with the taxonomy of verbs and, subsequently, the choice of the best tense for conjugating them. He never stopped repeating to me that the solemnity of the moment required a faithful reflection of the recount of events, whether actually experienced or imagined. He taught me to reflect on what I was going to write before drafting and consulting. He had the art and manner of transmitting his knowledge to me with passion and love. He took all the time for this patiently, never reprimanding me for a spelling mistake or when I rolled my Rs. He knew that by doing so, he succeeded in setting me on the right path for drafting, narration, pronunciation, and written and oral expression. I often used to lock myself in my studio, which was located in the garden of our staff housing at the Sidi Amr school in Meknes. This is how I began to write short stories, poems, and even love letters to an imaginary beloved. I also kept my personal diary. My French teacher in the first year, called the observation class, at Moulay Ismail High School, Mr. Rossetti, encouraged me to write. My pen was a precious tool for me, allowing me to express everything I felt at that time of my life. For me, it was a way not only to entertain myself but also to consolidate a gift for writing and composing poems. My father supervised what I produced in writing from a distance and had the art and manner of correcting my essays while encouraging me to move forward. My "vocabulary" capital grew day by day. I had gotten into the habit of writing in one go, without resorting to a draft. Now that I am nearing seventy, I continue to write with a disconcerting ease that surprises those around me. For me, there is nothing surprising, because I possess genes transmitted by my father, an outstanding teacher and school principal who officiated for more than forty years and who, like me and my brothers and sisters, trained hundreds and hundreds of students. May he rest in peace and know that his pen is in good hands. Dr. Fouad Bouchareb All rights reserved November 27, 2025

My Father's Pen 257

Boucharfou, 20 h.

- Society - Lifestyle - Philosophy -

1.5 min read.

I have known it since I was young. My late father, then a school principal, gave me my first pen when I passed my primary school certificate in June 1966, to replace my dip pen, penholder, and inkwell. He taught me how to hold it between my thumb and index finger and how to improve my handwriting in both Arabic and French. He taught me to choose the best verb, the best sentence to express my feelings and reveal my emotions of the moment. He instilled in me the art of juggling with the taxonomy of verbs and, subsequently, the choice of the best tense for conjugating them. He never stopped repeating to me that the solemnity of the moment required a faithful reflection of the recount of events, whether actually experienced or imagined. He taught me to reflect on what I was going to write before drafting and consulting. He had the art and manner of transmitting his knowledge to me with passion and love. He took all the time for this patiently, never reprimanding me for a spelling mistake or when I rolled my Rs. He knew that by doing so, he succeeded in setting me on the right path for drafting, narration, pronunciation, and written and oral expression. I often used to lock myself in my studio, which was located in the garden of our staff housing at the Sidi Amr school in Meknes. This is how I began to write short stories, poems, and even love letters to an imaginary beloved. I also kept my personal diary. My French teacher in the first year, called the observation class, at Moulay Ismail High School, Mr. Rossetti, encouraged me to write. My pen was a precious tool for me, allowing me to express everything I felt at that time of my life. For me, it was a way not only to entertain myself but also to consolidate a gift for writing and composing poems. My father supervised what I produced in writing from a distance and had the art and manner of correcting my essays while encouraging me to move forward. My "vocabulary" capital grew day by day. I had gotten into the habit of writing in one go, without resorting to a draft. Now that I am nearing seventy, I continue to write with a disconcerting ease that surprises those around me. For me, there is nothing surprising, because I possess genes transmitted by my father, an outstanding teacher and school principal who officiated for more than forty years and who, like me and my brothers and sisters, trained hundreds and hundreds of students. May he rest in peace and know that his pen is in good hands. Dr. Fouad Bouchareb All rights reserved November 27, 2025

My father's pen 356

Boucharfou, 1 d.

- Society - Lifestyle - Romance -

1 min read.

I have known it since my young age. My late father, then a school principal, offered me my first pen when I passed my primary school certificate in June 1966. He thus taught me how to hold it between my thumb and index finger and to improve my handwriting in both Arabic and French. I often used to lock myself in my studio, which was located in the garden of our official residence at the Sidi Amr school in Meknes. This is how I started writing short stories, poems, and even love letters to an imaginary beloved. I also kept my personal diary. My French teacher in the first year, called the observation class, at Moulay Ismail High School, Mr. Rossetti, encouraged me to write. My pen was a precious tool for me, allowing me to express everything I felt at that time in my life. It was a way for me not only to entertain myself but also to consolidate a gift for writing and composing poems. My father supervised my writings from a distance and had the art and manner of correcting my essays while encouraging me to move forward. My "vocabulary" capital was enriched day after day. I had acquired the habit, to this day, of writing in a single draft without resorting to a rough copy. Now that I am close to seventy years old, I continue to write with a disconcerting ease that surprises those around me. For me, this is not surprising because I possess genes transmitted by my father, an outstanding teacher and school principal who officiated for more than forty years and who, like me and my brothers and sisters, trained hundreds and hundreds of students. May he rest in peace and may he know that his pen is in good hands. Dr. Fouad Bouchareb All rights reserved November 27, 2025

✍️ My Father's Pen 499

Boucharfou, 2 d.

- Society - Lifestyle - Romance -

1.5 min read.

I have known it since my young age. My late father, then a school director, gave me my first pen when I successfully passed my primary school leaving certificate in June 1966. He taught me how to hold it between my thumb and forefinger and how to improve my handwriting, both in Arabic and in French. He taught me to choose the best verb, the best sentence to express what I felt and to reveal my emotions of the moment. He instilled in me the art of juggling with the taxonomy of verbs and subsequently choosing the best tense for conjugating them. He never stopped repeating to me that the solemnity of the moment required faithfully reflecting the narrative of events truly experienced or imagined. He taught me to think about what I was going to write before drafting and consulting. He had the art and the manner of transmitting his knowledge to me with passion and love. He patiently took all the time for this without ever reprimanding me for a spelling mistake or when I rolled my R's. He knew that this way he succeeded in putting me on the right track for drafting, narration, pronunciation, and written and oral expression. I often locked myself in my studio, which was in the garden of our official residence at the Sidi Amr school in Meknes. This is how I began to write small stories, poems, and even love letters to an imaginary sweetheart. I also kept my personal diary. My French teacher in the first year, called the observation class, at Moulay Ismail high school, Mr. Rossetti, encouraged me to write. My pen was a precious tool for me that allowed me to express everything I felt at that time in my life. It was for me a way not only to distract myself but also to consolidate a gift for writing and composing poems. My father supervised what I produced in writing from a distance and had the art and the manner of correcting my essays while encouraging me to move forward. My "vocabulary" capital grew day by day. I had gotten into the habit, to this day, of writing in one go without resorting to a draft. Now that I am nearing seventy, I continue to write with a disconcerting ease that surprises those around me. For me, nothing is astonishing, because I possess genes transmitted by my father, an unparalleled teacher and school director who officiated for over forty years and who, like me and my brothers and sisters, trained hundreds and hundreds of students. May he rest in peace and know that his pen is in good hands. Dr. Fouad Bouchareb All rights reserved November 27, 2025

Soccer World Cup 2026: Africa Asserts Itself, the Maghreb Competes, Morocco Confirms... 522

Aziz Daouda, 2 d.

- World Politics - Society - Sports -

2.7 min read.

Mondial 2026 : Africa asserts itself, the Maghreb competes, Morocco confirms... La Coupe du Monde 2026, jointly organized by the États-Unis, le Canada et le Mexique, marks a historic turning point with 48 teams, an unprecedented format, and qualifiers spread over several months, in a football world undergoing rapid change. Beyond technical innovations, a genuine recomposition géopolitique is taking place. Football has become, more than ever, a space where national ambitions, regional strategies, and symbolic rivalries are asserted. In this new chessboard, l’Afrique, and more specifically the Maghreb, occupies a central place. With 9 qualified nations, Africa demonstrates its organization, while the Maghreb asserts itself as the major pole of African football and one of the serious contenders worldwide through Morocco. The list of qualified teams — Morocco, Tunisia, Egypt, Algeria, Ghana, Cape Verde, South Africa, Ivory Coast, and Senegal — offers few surprises except the notable absence of Cameroon and Nigeria. Le Maroc remains the strategic showcase of an assumed national and African soft power. Qualified with ease, the Kingdom confirms a momentum started over a decade ago: high-level infrastructure, planning, policy supported by stable governance, diplomatic projection through football, and successful valorization of the diaspora as a technical and strategic force. Morocco today is a pivot continental, endowed with a global and sustainable strategy: CAN 2025, candidacy for 2030, Coupe du Monde des U17 féminines, increased presence in football governing bodies. Its qualification for Mondial 2026 is not an isolated event but the culmination of a coherent and assumed influence policy. On the other hand, L’Algérie savors its return while painfully feeling the repetitive successes of its Moroccan neighbor. Algerian media, often clumsy, offer questionable explanations for their failures, even invoking conspiracy, supposed Moroccan dominance over CAF, or other more fanciful causes. Having missed Mondial 2022 under harsh circumstances, Algeria approaches this cycle with urgency and pride, trying to restore its international visibility and break out of isolation. Qualifying represents a true marqueur de crédibilité régionale, at a time when the region is experiencing deep political reshuffles. Here, football promotes both national cohesion, currently weakened by recurring supply crises and international credibility deficit, and symbolic competition between neighbors. As for La Tunisie, plagued by political difficulties, it seeks stability through football, betting on consistency as strategy. Structured training, competitive diaspora, effective technical management; Tunisian qualification fits a continuity logic. The country lacks Morocco’s geopolitical projection or Algeria’s scale but holds this precious asset: durabilité. L’Égypte, a demographic and historical giant, makes a strong comeback after several frustrating absences. For Cairo, this qualification is much more than a sporting feat: it is a prestige stratégique, crucial as the country seeks to restore its international image and stabilize its internal scene. With its demographic weight and football culture, Egypt regains the global visibility it considers natural. The joint presence of Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, and Egypt signals a réalignement régional. This bloc, with nearly 200 millions d’habitants, shares geopolitical realities without forming a complementary whole; rather, it is an intra-regional influence battle. Each country projects its image through football: - Morocco through its policy, infrastructure, organization, planning, and powerful sports diplomacy. - Algeria cultivating national prestige and popular symbolism. - Egypt with its demographic weight and cultural influence on the Arab world. - Tunisia through consistency and technical skills. All actually compete for African leadership, football becoming the mirror of their political ambitions: - Who represents Africa at the FIFA? - Who leads the transformation of continental football? - Who sets standards in training and infrastructure? Morocco seems to take an indisputable lead, but Algeria and Egypt remain competitors in this symbolic struggle. National models differ clearly: - Morocco: centralized, planned, long-term vision. - Algeria: emotional, popular, volatile but powerful. - Egypt: massive, institutional, historic. - Tunisia: discreet, stable, technical. Together they now form a zone footballistique cohérente, whose importance on the global stage is unprecedented. Attention now turns to the March playoffs, true theaters of uncertainty and continental stakes. They will offer the last tickets. Their scope goes beyond football: each ticket opens a space for national narrative where sport becomes an identity mirror. Le Mondial 2026 is resolutely geopolitical, and the Maghreb y pèse lourd. For the first time, the region appears both as a concrete bloc and a space of internal rivalries. Four qualified nations in a context where: - Africa gains importance. - FIFA adapts to a multipolar world amid global redefinition. - States use football as a diplomatic instrument. - The Maghreb, in its diversity and division, becomes one of the most dynamic regions of football. This North American tournament will showcase much more than teams: it will expose visions, national narratives, historical rivalries, and regional strategies. A genuine geopolitical battlefield. In this global context, the Royaume du Maroc is no longer a mere bystander: it asserts itself as a central actor, arousing jealousies and fierce rivalries...

Reinventing the Moroccan School: From Transmission to Support... 520

Aziz Daouda, 2 d.

- Politics - Science - Society -

2.7 min read.

Moroccans, especially the youth, today express a deep malaise regarding their school system. They have just manifesté this loudly. This reality, now public, appears both in family discussions and institutional assessments as well as societal debates. To compensate for the shortcomings of a public education seen as exhausted, more and more families, informed or affluent, enroll their children in private, sometimes foreign, institutions. The middle class also makes many sacrifices to follow this movement. This phenomenon reflects a crisis of confidence and deepens the social divide: school, promoted as a driver of equality, becomes a marker of inequality. This drift had already been foreseen: on le 1er novembre 1960, Dean Charles André Julien warned Mr. Bennani, Director of the Royal Protocol, about the risks of a poorly conceived reform that would create new problems. Despite considerable investments, successive reforms have often been limited to peripheral aspects: infrastructure, uniforms, superficial pedagogical approaches, vacation schedules. Too often, they resulted from poorly inspired mimicry, entrusted to careless study offices and insufficiently qualified officials. The various reforms have not succeeded and have generated growing dissatisfaction. School dropout rates and different rankings illustrate this distressing situation. If there must be reform, and the urgency is real, it must not concern buildings, student attire, or vacation schedules but focus on the heart of the curriculum, the educational philosophy, and how to consider the roles of the student and teacher. The future belongs to a world where young people create their own jobs; this trend is becoming universal. We live in an unprecedented period in human history, where youth shape their professional and personal trajectories: young people invent their jobs, build their paths, imagine new social models. Today, a Moroccan teenager, diploma or not, can design an application, launch a business, build a community, influence markets, and create unimaginable value for traditional frameworks. The modèle 1337 perfectly illustrates this. Now, young people no longer have mental borders or limits. They express energy made of ambition, technological intuition, cultural openness, and dreams. Meanwhile, the school system remains locked in a 20th-century pattern. The role of school must evolve: it is no longer about transmitting, but about accompanying. The Moroccan school must stop being a place for reciting knowledge now available online. Information is at hand, even for a ten-year-old child. That is not what they expect: sometimes, they doze off in class and at night find the freedom space where they imagine the world they want to live in and build themselves. In technology and language learning, many of them outpace decision-makers and teachers. Young people master English more than what is offered at school and have technological equipment that schools are far from providing. Parents make huge sacrifices for this. Young people prefer a connection over a meal. Young people no longer like school as it is presented to them. Above all, they expect to find there: - someone who listens to them; - someone who believes in their potential; - someone who urges them to dream bigger, dare more, create; - someone who trusts them. School must thus become a space of support, awakening, and life project construction; it must train citizens capable of imagining, innovating, collaborating, taking risks, not just memorizing. For this, the major challenge for the State is training trainers capable of adapting to new realities. It is essential to move from transmitting teachers to mentoring guides. The true reform therefore begins with teachers. Yesterday’s teachers must adopt the role of mentor, guide, catalyst of talents: a mentor who asks questions instead of imposing answers, a companion who helps the student discover themselves, an educator who opens doors rather than erects walls. Training trainers requires a new philosophy: integrating positive psychology, educational coaching, active pedagogies, project building, digital culture, and creativity. Teaching is no longer a transmission profession but accompaniment, with autonomy as the engine of the future. Today, young people do not need financial capital to start but confidence, ideas, and skills. A good connection makes them happy. Their main asset is their mind. Their obstacle is often a lack of encouragement, anxiety over a system that is too rigid, too vertical, too distant from their reality. They are capable of everything except believing in themselves alone. This is where school must intervene, becoming the cocoon where innovative ideas and projects emerge. But to succeed, there must be the political courage to undertake the great reform awaited by youth. Morocco has a historic opportunity to reinvent its education system, not by material renovation, but through intellectual and spiritual transformation. School must become the place for building dreams, accompanying ambitions, and preparing for life through innovation and creation. It must train individuals capable not only of adapting to a changing world but of transforming it a world moving faster than previous generations could imagine. The true reform is the spark, not the concrete. It embodies not walls but minds. It builds not in the past but in the future that our youth aspire to invent, supported by our trust, nothing more.

My father's pen 588

Boucharfou, 3 d.

- Art - Society - Lifestyle -

1 min read.

I have known it since my young age. My late father, then a school principal, offered me my first pen when I passed my primary school certificate in June 1966. He thus taught me how to hold it between my thumb and index finger and to improve my handwriting in both Arabic and French. I often used to lock myself in my studio, which was located in the garden of our official residence at the Sidi Amr school in Meknes. This is how I started writing short stories, poems, and even love letters to an imaginary beloved. I also kept my personal diary. My French teacher in the first year, called the observation class, at Moulay Ismail High School, Mr. Rossetti, encouraged me to write. My pen was a precious tool for me, allowing me to express everything I felt at that time in my life. It was a way for me not only to entertain myself but also to consolidate a gift for writing and composing poems. My father supervised my writings from a distance and had the art and manner of correcting my essays while encouraging me to move forward. My "vocabulary" capital was enriched day after day. I had acquired the habit, to this day, of writing in a single draft without resorting to a rough copy. Now that I am close to seventy years old, I continue to write with a disconcerting ease that surprises those around me. For me, this is not surprising because I possess genes transmitted by my father, an outstanding teacher and school principal who officiated for more than forty years and who, like me and my brothers and sisters, trained hundreds and hundreds of students. May he rest in peace and may he know that his pen is in good hands. Dr. Fouad Bouchareb All rights reserved November 27, 2025

My father's pen 588

Boucharfou, 3 d.

- Art - Society - Lifestyle -

1 min read.

I have known it since my young age. My late father, then a school principal, offered me my first pen when I passed my primary school certificate in June 1966. He thus taught me how to hold it between my thumb and index finger and to improve my handwriting in both Arabic and French. I often used to lock myself in my studio, which was located in the garden of our official residence at the Sidi Amr school in Meknes. This is how I started writing short stories, poems, and even love letters to an imaginary beloved. I also kept my personal diary. My French teacher in the first year, called the observation class, at Moulay Ismail High School, Mr. Rossetti, encouraged me to write. My pen was a precious tool for me, allowing me to express everything I felt at that time in my life. It was a way for me not only to entertain myself but also to consolidate a gift for writing and composing poems. My father supervised my writings from a distance and had the art and manner of correcting my essays while encouraging me to move forward. My "vocabulary" capital was enriched day after day. I had acquired the habit, to this day, of writing in a single draft without resorting to a rough copy. Now that I am close to seventy years old, I continue to write with a disconcerting ease that surprises those around me. For me, this is not surprising because I possess genes transmitted by my father, an outstanding teacher and school principal who officiated for more than forty years and who, like me and my brothers and sisters, trained hundreds and hundreds of students. May he rest in peace and may he know that his pen is in good hands. Dr. Fouad Bouchareb All rights reserved November 27, 2025

My father's pen 590

Boucharfou, 3 d.

- Art - Society - Lifestyle -

1 min read.

I have known it since my young age. My late father, then a school principal, offered me my first pen when I passed my primary school certificate in June 1966. He thus taught me how to hold it between my thumb and index finger and to improve my handwriting in both Arabic and French. I often used to lock myself in my studio, which was located in the garden of our official residence at the Sidi Amr school in Meknes. This is how I started writing short stories, poems, and even love letters to an imaginary beloved. I also kept my personal diary. My French teacher in the first year, called the observation class, at Moulay Ismail High School, Mr. Rossetti, encouraged me to write. My pen was a precious tool for me, allowing me to express everything I felt at that time in my life. It was a way for me not only to entertain myself but also to consolidate a gift for writing and composing poems. My father supervised my writings from a distance and had the art and manner of correcting my essays while encouraging me to move forward. My "vocabulary" capital was enriched day after day. I had acquired the habit, to this day, of writing in a single draft without resorting to a rough copy. Now that I am close to seventy years old, I continue to write with a disconcerting ease that surprises those around me. For me, this is not surprising because I possess genes transmitted by my father, an outstanding teacher and school principal who officiated for more than forty years and who, like me and my brothers and sisters, trained hundreds and hundreds of students. May he rest in peace and may he know that his pen is in good hands. Dr. Fouad Bouchareb All rights reserved November 27, 2025

Reflection 601

Boucharfou, 3 d.

- Society - Lifestyle - Poetry -

0.3 min read.

🧘 Reflection Throughout my life, what I ignored as covetousness came to me willingly, without effort. And everything I sought to possess ultimately slipped away from me, despite reinforcements. Life only shows its generosity towards the one who doesn't care and goes without, It humiliates the one who clings to it and holds on relentlessly. The fire that burns the soul is soothed and eventually extinguished by detachment... So detach yourself, for the one who lets go easily ends up possessing. Dr. Fouad Bouchareb November 24, 2025 All rights reserved

Reflection 801

Boucharfou, 6 d.

- Society - Lifestyle - Philosophy -

0.3 min read.

Throughout my life, what I ignored as covetousness came to me willingly, without effort. And everything I sought to possess ultimately slipped away from me, despite reinforcements. Life only shows its generosity towards the one who doesn't care and goes without, It humiliates the one who clings to it and holds on relentlessly. The fire that burns the soul is soothed and eventually extinguished by detachment... So detach yourself, for the one who lets go easily ends up possessing. Dr. Fouad Bouchareb November 24, 2025 All rights reserved

Reflection 900

Boucharfou, 6 d.

- Society - Lifestyle - Philosophy -

0.3 min read.

🧘 Throughout my life, what I ignored as covetousness came to me willingly, without effort. And everything I sought to possess ultimately slipped away from me, despite reinforcements. Life only shows its generosity towards the one who doesn't care and goes without, It humiliates the one who clings to it and holds on relentlessly. The fire that burns the soul is soothed and eventually extinguished by detachment... So detach yourself, for the one who lets go easily ends up possessing. Dr. Fouad Bouchareb November 24, 2025 All rights reserved

Reflection 901

Boucharfou, 6 d.

- Society - Lifestyle - Philosophy -

0.3 min read.

Throughout my life, what I ignored as covetousness came to me willingly, without effort. And everything I sought to possess ultimately slipped away from me, despite reinforcements. Life only shows its generosity towards the one who doesn't care and goes without, It humiliates the one who clings to it and holds on relentlessly. The fire that burns the soul is soothed and eventually extinguished by detachment... So detach yourself, for the one who lets go easily ends up possessing. Dr. Fouad Bouchareb November 24, 2025 All rights reserved

Reflection 922

Boucharfou, 6 d.

- Society - Lifestyle - Poetry -

0.3 min read.

🧘 Throughout my life, what I ignored as covetousness came to me willingly, without effort. And everything I sought to possess ultimately slipped away from me, despite reinforcements. Life only shows its generosity towards the one who doesn't care and goes without, It humiliates the one who clings to it and holds on relentlessly. The fire that burns the soul is soothed and eventually extinguished by detachment... So detach yourself, for the one who lets go easily ends up possessing. Dr. Fouad Bouchareb November 24, 2025 All rights reserved

Being a doctor...in my generation! 1680

Boucharfou, 13 d.

- Society - Lifestyle - Poetry -

0.3 min read.

Medicine was an art practiced without flaw by a rare horde of people dedicated to their lauded work, who often remained stuck in the hospital to be that lifeline of oxygen and life. We remained clear-headed. We weren't greedy at all. Our medicine, whatever anyone said, and in all honesty, brought honor and happiness. It was our reason for being. Without it, we would be nothing but poor people, ultimately given over to doubt Dr. Fouad Bouchareb All rights reserved

Growing Older: A Joyful Perspective 1960

Boucharfou, 14 d.

- Society - Lifestyle - Health -

0.9 min read.

Growing older is not a pain in the ass. No offense to the late Bernard Pivot. Growing older is hilarious. I would even go further: Growing older is exciting, it is soothing, it is marvelous, it is fantastic, and it is rather reassuring. Growing older is a boon and an unprecedented opportunity to watch your children grow up and grow old... Growing older is a gift from heaven and a blessing from God to enjoy your grandchildren by playing with them, having crazy fun with them, and almost becoming children with them... Growing older is marvelous and simply fascinating to keep seeing your childhood friends, to persist in joking with them, and to share memories and adventures experienced together... Growing older is an ideal opportunity to discover other cultures, to travel, and to treat yourself again and again... Growing older is becoming wise, it is sharing experiences, it is advising the younger and the less young... Growing older is helping your neighbor, it is assisting others... Growing older is the time to meditate, to dream, and to pray for this world that is becoming crazier and crazier... Growing older is expecting nothing from others but responding to the expectations of others... Growing older is being serene and confident in the future and never fearing what lies ahead or the bad tomorrows. Growing older is being optimistic and always seeing the glass as half full. Growing older is having faith and believing in the goodness of God, who alone programs all things. Growing older is defying age and its wrinkles and its share of weaknesses, illnesses, and crises... Growing older is facing life and its uncertainties... Growing older is waiting patiently and serenely for the sound of one's own knell (or funeral bell)... Dr. Fouad Bouchareb May 8, 2024 All rights reserved

When Morocco’s Greatest Match Becomes Its Worst Mirror… 3264

Aziz Daouda, 26 d.

- Politics - Society - Sports -

2.9 min read.

The Casablanca derby, the supreme celebration of Moroccan football, meant to take place at least twice each season, has turned into a sad reflection of our collective failings. What should have been a hymn to the passion of football has become a march toward shame: the shame of not respecting the most basic alphabet of the game, of civility, of respect for others, and of the rules of the Federation and FIFA. The latest edition, in particular, offered yet another all-too-familiar scene: flares, clashes, the throwing of incendiary objects, destruction of public and private property, and a match repeatedly interrupted. The green rectangle, once a sanctuary for the game and the players’ sporting performance, is now held hostage by the pyromania of the stands and the forced complacency toward behavior that is beyond disturbing. This time, the sheer number of flares was so staggering that it raises countless questions: Who sells them? Who ignites them? And how are they so regularly smuggled into stadiums? Who benefits from turning the Casablanca derby into a footballing wasteland? It is no longer a football match, it is a war zone, a scene of spectacular movie-like special effects imported into the terraces. In the name of the club’s flag, common sense has been cast aside. Raja and Wydad, two monuments of our sport, are being manipulated, overtaken, hijacked, and exploited by crowds who confuse fervor with fury, believing they defend their colors while trampling the honor of the beautiful game. In the name of the club’s supposed love, we end up defending obscure causes far removed from the essence of the clubs themselves — if such an essence still exists. It has become a kind of grandstand ultra-nationalism. Some groups have set themselves up as militias of the stadiums. They control the stands, impose their laws, and enforce their violence. They now even dictate the rhythm of the matches, play begins when they allow it and stops when they decree it. Their tifos are glorified, but few dare name their excesses for what they are. Yet behind the choreographies, sometimes splendid, sometimes tasteless, lie preparations worthy of a battlefield: sharp objects, stones, illegally imported flares and explosives, coded mobilization calls, and incitements to confront all that represents order. Insults to institutions, fake news, subversive slogans, everything mixes together with no restraint or shame: a volatile cocktail of social grievances and barely veiled political activism. Even foreign policy and the country’s international positions are dragged into it. So much for the common good, the good of the entire nation. Club officials feign surprise or hide away, waiting for the storm to pass, as if smashed buses, bent gates, and toxic smoke were accidents of fate. The authorities design strategies and take precautions, yet repeatedly face dangerous overflows. Their stance is paternalistic at best: as if dealing only with unruly children. The ringleaders, meanwhile, stay safely out of reach, though some are visible, even stepping onto the pitch to stir up and inflame the crowds. As for the Federation, it responds with fines and closed-door matches, the same administrative ritual that no longer frightens anyone. Has football been taken hostage? The consequences are disastrous: interrupted matches, financial sanctions, and a tarnished international image. Morocco, once celebrated for its popular fervor, now offers the image of a sick football, where passion blurs into madness. These outbursts kill the game, stifle talent, and drive away families who once dared to attend matches. In a country where football is almost a religion, it is heartbreaking to see the temples of sport turned into lawless zones. Children who once dreamed of the derby as a founding myth now see only ritualized chaos, a folklore of wreckage. Some may even join in, believing this is simply “how it is.” But should we resign ourselves and admit a failure of courage? It is not club rivalry that is to blame, but our collective inability to civilize it. It was not always like this. The problem does not lie in the chants, but in what we tolerate in the name of passion. Stadium violence is, above all, born of silence: the silence of clubs unwilling to alienate their supporters; the silence of media that prefer to glorify the atmosphere rather than denounce its excesses; and the silence of authorities forced to maintain order alone before a crowd they were never meant to manage, unlike elsewhere. By failing to choose and only punishing after the fact, we have allowed *charhabe* to settle in as a tolerated subculture, a norm, a distorted identity. The derby should not be a test of strength but a celebration of the city, of talent, and of the players’ pursuit of excellence on the field. Yet the myth of the derby must survive, because beneath the rage lies a truth: the Wydad–Raja rivalry is one of the most beautiful stories in African, perhaps even world football. It has inspired generations, forged careers, and given birth to songs and dreams. But this tradition will not survive if it continues to sink into hatred and absurdity. The derby deserves better. Casablanca deserves better. Morocco deserves a football where passion does not mean madness, where the color of a jersey does not justify brutality and violence. If nothing changes, the kingdom’s greatest match may soon become its greatest scandal: **the Derby of Smoke.**

Leïla Slimani: when words spoken to please betray the reality of an entire country civilisation... 3634

Aziz Daouda, 29 d.

- Society - Short Stories - Romance -

3.2 min read.

The recent statements by the writer Leïla Slimani, Moroccan to us, Franco-Moroccan on television programs, have not gone unnoticed at all. Leïla Slimani made a particularly pointed remark regarding Moroccan women and mothers that sparked a strong controversy going beyond simple differences of opinion. Leïla was among the guests on the show "Tout le monde en parle". A show that survived its creator Thiery Ardisson, in Quebec but not in France. The statements in question, perceived as condescending and disconnected from the social and cultural realities of Morocco, deeply offended many Moroccan women. Especially those who, like her, write in French and consume cultural programs in French. They did not let her remarks pass, far from it. Many responded to her. Some more harshly than others. She received backlash like never before in her life. The reactions were measured, reasoned, and blunt even if politely delivered. Some were real lessons addressed to someone who truly deserved a strong reminder. All reminded her that many mothers, constrained by difficult conditions, have raised their children with courage, dignity, and a keen sense of values, and today refuse that their commitment be reduced to simplistic clichés or one-sided judgments whose only purpose is to create buzz on television sets. On social networks and in public spaces, the reaction was unanimous and passionate. Moroccan women, at least those who spoke, firmly rejected the stereotypical vision inflicted on them, denouncing a sometimes moralistic and westernized posture that ignores the complexity and richness of their experience. Their role can neither be reduced nor caricatured, as it is fundamental in the construction of Moroccan society, itself evolving but deeply rooted in its traditions, resilience, and unique identity. The sentence where Leïla Slimani speaks of revenge as a value that mothers would teach their children, girls in particular, does not pass and will not pass. She cited her own grandmother as an example, absent to contradict her... This expression is truly inappropriate as well as misleading. The opposite is true: one of the fundamental values of Moroccan society is precisely forgiveness. Forgiveness is taught and lived daily in social relations here. Life revolves around forgiveness. The word forgiveness in darija is uttered dozens of times a day by everyone here. *Lalla Leila, do we really need to remind you that Moroccan culture is not nourished by resentment, and even less by revenge, but by a demand: a demand for respect and nuance.* Today, Moroccan society is progressing, but it firmly rejects external judgments imposed without a deep understanding of the local context, whether religious or cultural. As a public figure representing Morocco on the international stage, if you please, you should show greater prudence and empathy in your remarks. Speaking a truth is one thing, inventing it is another, especially since the context was not fiction but a widely viewed program. This controversy highlights a persistent symbolic fracture between a certain elite living abroad and the real Morocco, the one that lives, struggles, and moves forward at its own pace, certainly, but makes true progress. Criticism is legitimate, questioning is salutary, but it must always be done with rigor, responsibility, and above all respect. Public speech must never humiliate nor infantilize Moroccan women, and even less in their essential and vital role: raising new generations. Morocco is not frozen in stereotypes. Moroccan women, whether lawyers, entrepreneurs, teachers, artists, workers, artisans, or stay-at-home mothers, lead every day, in the shadows of essential battles, based on a quiet strength worthy of admiration. Their modernity is an inner, patient, and authentic process that has nothing to envy from imported discourse. Their future lies in their hands and will not be shaped by words uttered here or there just to impress an audience eager for primitive orientalism. Beyond that, this affair broadly reveals the difficulty some Moroccans of the diaspora face to reconcile distance and sensitivity towards their country of origin. This is the bridge needed for dialogue, based on sincere listening and respectful sharing of experiences. Through this misstep, Leïla Slimani showed how a disconnected word can deeply hurt, especially when it comes from one of our own. And if the phrase pronounced by Leïla Slimani only reflected her personal feeling and perhaps a repressed desire for revenge linked to her family past. Her father, the late Othmane Slimani, a prominent economist who was once minister and bank boss, went through a real downfall, accused of malfeasance. He succumbed to lung cancer before the end of the judicial process, having appealed a first ruling condemning him in first instance. It must nevertheless be recognized that it was under his presidency of the Fédération Royale Marocaine de Football that the Moroccan National Football Team won the only African title it holds to this day. That was in 1976. Moroccans have never forgotten this epic and still thank Si Slimani, the selector Mehdi Belmejdoub, coach Mardarescu, and the players of the time led by Ahmed Faras. Madam Slimani, who deserves respect for who she is, must simply understand that Morocco does not ask for lessons, but for genuine understanding and respectful dialogue to support its transformation and the great progress made. Spreading nonsense and ideas that don’t match its history, the values of its citizens, and even less those of its women, does not honor a writer who aspires to make history. Many before her have tried the same path in their quest to be more royalist than the king; none succeeded. Morocco can be left, but it never leaves us, and that is why it must be respected. **Morocco is certainly about good food, good drink, but not about revenge.** This is my response to Leïla Slimani, on behalf of my mother, my grandmother, and all the mothers and grandmothers, if they would allow me...

Morocco, this quiet conviction that still needs to be shared... 3929

Aziz Daouda, 1 mon.

- Politics - Society -

3.2 min read.

The saying "One who believes in himself has no need to convince others" is commonly translated into French as "Celui qui croit en lui-même n’a pas besoin de convaincre les autres". It evokes a quiet confidence, inner strength, and the stability of one who moves forward without ostentatious display. This idea finds a particular resonance in present-day Moroccan reality: a country confident in the course it has set, proud of its multiple and diverse advances, convinced of its diplomatic legitimacy, strong in its alliances and international roots. However, it faces a major internal challenge: persuading its own youth, even a large part of its population, of the meaning and scope of its progress and achievements. Winning the trust of the youth, and thereby enabling them to gain confidence in themselves and a shared, radiant, and prosperous future, is a true work in progress. Moroccan diplomacy, an example of affirmed confidence, demonstrates an unashamed resolution facing any trial. It is characterized by unwavering determination, both decisive and pragmatic. Internationally, Morocco displays recognized strategic serenity. Under the Royal impulse, its diplomacy based on dialogue and continuity stands as a model of balance between cooperation, firmness, and self-confidence. At the UN, for example, Morocco’s proposal of autonomy in the Sahara issue has become a normative reference, accepted by nearly all international partners. This diplomatic success perfectly illustrates the saying. Confident in its correctness, Morocco did not need to resort to excessive demonstrations to impose its position. Pragmatism, patience, endurance, and determination are the watchwords on this matter. Today, Minister Bourita and Omar Hilal, the Kingdom’s ambassador to the UN, are even seen as stars and are sought after as such at every public appearance, so convincing and credible are they. But is it the same in all fields and sectors? Beyond the Moroccan Sahara issue, the Kingdom is deploying active economic and parliamentary diplomacy, weaving a solid network of alliances in Africa, Europe, the Middle East, and progressively in Latin America and Asia. This partnership-based strategy illustrates this "conviction tranquille" which seeks less to convince than to consolidate achievements. Renewed agreements with the European Union or strengthened cooperation with China, India, Brazil, African countries, and others demonstrate the solidity of this approach. Yet beyond that, Morocco endures a striking paradox. Its most urgent internal challenge is to regain, perhaps even build, the trust of its youth. Confidence in themselves first and foremost, but also confidence in the country. This confidence shown outwardly and perceived positively internally contrasts with the impatience and skepticism of some Moroccan youth towards other aspects of life. Faced with socio-economic challenges such as unemployment, insecurity, and the perceived slowness of reforms, many young people express deep doubt about their future. Alongside the endemic weakness in communication, the poverty of arguments, the apathy of official media, and the excesses of many others, young people often also endure nihilistic discourse spread by some media voices or social networks, which undermines their confidence and fuels disengagement and fatalism. This paradox of a state confident on the world stage but constantly needing to convince internally lies at the heart of the situation. Despite government efforts to improve employment and public services, recurring individual or collective protests reflect this malaise—a deficit in civic and chronic confidence. How can Morocco then revive common faith and evolve this paradigm? It seems essential to invest in authentic dialogue with youth so that they fully feel the scope and benefits of the progress made. Initiatives such as renewed civic education programs, support for youth entrepreneurship—especially in rural areas—thorough revision of the school curriculum, and increased youth participation in decision-making bodies are some examples underway or to be developed. The easing of certain regulations regarding taxation, currency exchange, e-commerce, business operations, and digital currencies would surely open up new horizons for this connected youth, eager for success. This would certainly increase this much sought-after confidence capital, crucial today. Why not immediately take the measures that will inevitably be taken in ten years? Then it will be too late. Moroccan youth want to undertake and live at the pace of the world. The saying "Celui qui croit en lui-même n’a pas besoin de convaincre les autres" would thus become a call to reinvent the bond between the State and its youth: create a collective energy of confidence, not only manifested outwardly but also lived and felt inwardly, to build a shared future. This seems to have started today. Recent decisions by the Council of Ministers to encourage youth to join institutions, through the revision of the organic law of the House of Representatives, bear witness to this. Lowering the youth age cap from 40 to 35 is a major advance. The possibility for young people to run in elections without party affiliation, as well as the promised financial support for non-partisan youth, are strong incentives against the lethargy that had long taken hold in Moroccan political life. The matter is settled: either political parties open up to youth, or they will be condemned to occupy only backbencher seats. If young people get involved, they will participate in the change they dream of and impose it. Their level of confidence will only increase. Now, let us wait for the parliamentary debates that will finalize all this. This is an important criterion: for once, we will have a law adopted about nine months ahead of elections. Provided no one throws a wrench in the works. Only then will confidence be built, like a transparent, inclusive, participatory, and lasting foundation. One clarification though, the phrase "One who believes in himself has no need to convince others" is generally attributed to Lao Tzu (or Laozi), the Chinese sage and founder of Taoism. However, it is not authenticated as an excerpt from the Tao Te Ching. No matter, the saying takes on its full meaning here anyway.

The Emerging Political Maturity of Moroccan Youth: A Legacy of GENZ212 4206

Aziz Daouda, 1 mon.

- Politics - Society -

2.6 min read.

The waning of the GENZ212 movement does not signal the end of a generation searching for meaning. It should mark the beginning of the political maturity of a youth until now seen as sidelined or completely uninterested. Between legitimate frustrations, institutional responses, and obvious possibilities of manipulation of which it may be unaware, Moroccan youth is entering a decisive turning point: moving from protest to construction. Recent decisions by the Council of Ministers to include youth more substantially in political life explain well a fading movement and a generation now questioning itself. The ball is clearly in their court now. They know Morocco will not be made without them and is being made for them. Born in the digital sphere, GENZ212 ignited social networks and mobilized a youth eager for change. Its energy, initially spontaneous, naive, and sincere, now clashes with reality: lack of a clear, common vision, unclear leadership, and attempts at takeover by opportunistic extremes who saw a golden opportunity and believed it could not be missed. The momentum quickly weakened, as in any protest based on hollow slogans without clear contours or precise content, but the question remains: what remains of this anger? The country responded quickly and seriously. The institutional response manifested rapidly. The calm and firmness of the royal speech at the opening of the current Parliament's last legislative session and the 2026 finance bill a few days later redefined priorities around health, education, and social cohesion. Record highs were set for education and health. By integrating youth expectations into public action, the crisis was defused. Morocco, as always, chose listening and reform over confrontation. The trap of manipulation thus quickly closed around these promoters... In other arenas, some tried to rekindle the flame. The call to boycott the Africa Cup of Nations, for example, illustrates this: presented as a protest gesture, it quickly revealed ambiguities and also some frustration over extremists’ failure. The majority of citizens quickly condemned the boycott promoters, ridiculing them. Many observers concluded it was a political or even geopolitical takeover attempt. The overzealousness of Algerian media in trying to heat up the scene confirms and justifies this suspicion. Some even claim the recent protests are no longer a heartfelt cry but an echo of external agendas. As a result, several young former supporters distanced themselves from the movement. "We wanted change, not to become a tool in invisible hands," say early activists on social media. Recent innovations encouraging youth to take the political step toward institutions, combined with the historic importance of budgets allocated to health and those planned for education, have shifted the mindset of most young people from protest to building. As always, rooted in history, faced with drift, the Moroccan state has always favored stability and dialogue. This pragmatic approach continues a deeply rooted tradition: responding to unrest with concrete policies, not empty speeches or sugary promises. Throughout its modern history, the Kingdom has always known the real power of youth is to build, not boycott. Morocco is not undone by despair; it is built through commitment. GENZ212 served as a revealer, expressing the aspirations of youth wanting to be heard without being manipulated, actors without being instrumentalized, a youth standing up on behalf of their parents and society as a whole. Today, through its calm, it reveals a political consciousness in gestation to which the state wants to contribute by encouraging it to take the step toward representative institutions. Thus, the anger and demands of this generation will no longer be expressed in the streets or covertly, nor quickly taken over by those who confuse freedom of expression with destabilization. This, of course, while awaiting the day their children will come to shake things up and push them out of their comfort zones, in turn. In a fragile and uncertain regional context, national cohesion remains the essential bulwark. Moroccan youth seems to have quickly understood and integrated this. A true passage into maturity. Morocco progresses, sometimes slowly, but surely, combining reform and stability, youth and responsibility. GENZ212 is not a failure but a step. That of a generation that understands real change does not improvise on social media but inscribes itself in the long term, through action, listening, and participation. Resisting today means refusing to be manipulated. It means building one’s country lucidly, not against it. Morocco thus enters a new phase where youth becomes consciousness, no longer a force of rupture but an engine of balance. This is, ultimately, the quiet revolution, a Moroccan evolution throughout its modern history. This is a particularity that only Moroccans can understand: protest, listen, dialogue, respond, combine, project, and envision oneself are the key words. Being Moroccan is a belief. Staying united is a faith. Defending the country is a devotion. It has been this way for millennia.

The compagnonnage, a forgotten path for reintegrating young NEETs... 4433

Aziz Daouda, 1 mon.

- Politics - Society - Business -

3.1 min read.

If there is a situation requiring a quick, very quick response, it is that of the NEETs. These young people will not just disappear. As they get older, their problems, and therefore ours, will become increasingly difficult to manage and contain. The government must find sustainable solutions to reintegrate these young people who are neither employed nor in education or training, the famous NEET: Not in Employment, Education or Training. An old path could prove surprisingly modern: le compagnonnage. Inherited from artisanal traditions, this form of direct apprenticeship, which has proven itself throughout our history, has not been abandoned elsewhere. In many European countries, workshop-based learning is a cornerstone of vocational training. The idea should inspire a new Moroccan model of integration and skills transmission, restoring meaning to learning through contact with crafts. Not so long ago, this was the case even for some modern trades: hairdressing, mechanics, and others. It is time to rethink all this and also to look at what happens elsewhere in countries where childhood and its rights are perfectly protected, but where learning a trade in a workshop is not forbidden, in fact, quite the opposite. In Switzerland or Germany, the so-called "dual" system combines theoretical teaching and practical experience in a company. It enables young people to acquire a recognized qualification while participating in the productive life of the country. It is, for example, the essential pillar of Swiss excellence in watchmaking. This learning model values transmission and the accuracy of gestures, and helps keep manual and artisanal professions alive while reducing youth unemployment. Yet today, it is clear that many traditional Moroccan trades are in decline and risk disappearing due to a lack of Maâlems. Le compagnonnage places the relationship between master and apprentice at the heart of the training, along with mobility between workshops and the creation of masterpieces in which the apprentice proudly participates and sees their efforts realized, with client appreciation being the sole measure of evaluation. Vocational schools cannot offer such an emotional connection to trades. Le compagnonnage values patience, excellence, and pride in one’s craft, values that resonate with Moroccan artisanal culture. In Morocco, the situation is surprisingly paradoxical. Policies combating child labor have certainly made spectacular progress: the number of working minors has dropped by nearly 94% in twenty years. But the legislation, in its protective zeal, does not clearly distinguish illegal work from supervised apprenticeship. The result is unequivocal: workshops where knowledge of wood, leather, or metal was once passed on are closing one after another, unable to welcome apprentices without breaking the law, while hundreds of thousands of young people are abandoned to the street and its risks. This confusion between "exploitation" and "practical training" deprives hundreds of young people today of a genuine path to apprenticeship and weakens an entire sector of the national artisanal heritage. To quickly reclaim this historic force for absorbing NEETs, a revised, flexible legal framework is urgent. Once again, the lesson can come from Europe. International comparisons can offer valuable insight. In Switzerland, vocational training relies on a true alliance between schools, businesses, and local authorities. Apprenticeship is valued as a path to excellence. Young people have the opportunity and good fortune to alternate between classes and workshop practice. They gain solid experience and obtain a recognized federal certificate. This system ensures rapid integration into the labor market while guaranteeing clear protection for minors and institutional recognition of the apprentice status. The result of this pragmatism is that manual and artisanal trades remain alive and respected. In Germany, the dual model also combines theoretical training and work-based apprenticeship. It allows young people to enter the workforce early with protected and supervised status. The system is recognized for its ability to prevent youth unemployment and maintain a high level of technical skill, especially in industrial and artisanal trades. Morocco, by contrast, still struggles to structure this link between apprenticeship and training. Artisanal apprenticeship remains largely informal, subject to restrictive legislation that tends to confuse formative supervision with illegal labor. While protection for minors is generally strong, it remains unclear when it comes to practical training. This results in unequal integration of young people depending on the sector, while many traditional trades that create wealth are now threatened with disappearance due to lack of successors. The guiding philosophy of the necessary reform today should be the rehabilitation of the Maalem's role. Fortunately, Morocco still has a priceless asset: its network of master artisans, or Maâlems, guardians of centuries-old traditions in ironwork, jewelry, carpentry, and pottery. Giving these masters a legal and formative place would be a first step toward creating a Moroccan compagnonnage, adapted to local realities and oriented towards modernity. This would require reforming child labor laws to distinguish structured apprenticeship from precarious work and creating institutional bridges between traditional crafts and formal vocational training programs. This is a future path for young NEETs and these thousands of out-of-school Moroccan youth. Apprenticeship with a Maalem is not a step backward but a modern reinvention of the link between knowledge, work, and dignity. The Maâlems is a master, an educator, a transmitter of strong values. And let us not forget that this is how Fès was an industrial city, how Marrakech has kept an authenticity giving it its unique charm, how Ouarzazate is Ouarzazate, and how Chefchaouen is Chefchaouen. Framed by the state, recognized by institutions, and supported by local incentives, this model could help restore hope to a youth searching for meaning, while preserving the heritage trades that form Morocco’s cultural wealth, which sets it apart and makes it strong. In every apprentice, there is the seed of a good citizen; in every apprentice lies a small or medium enterprise.

Reform, yes. Imitate, no. Morocco facing the parliamentary illusion... 4523

Aziz Daouda, 1 mon.

- Politics - History - Society -

2.7 min read.

Everywhere it has been adopted, the parliamentary model shows its limits. In Europe, repeated political crises and short-lived governments multiply, fueling citizen disenchantment. In Israel, the succession of elections within a short period illustrates chronic instability. In Great Britain, the Brexit saga revealed the flaws of a system torn between electoral legitimacy and political fragmentation. Everywhere, the logic of fragile coalitions and opportunistic compromises has transformed parliamentarism into a machine of division and a conduit for populism. Wherever parliament fragments, crisis is assured: France is painfully experiencing this today. Yet it is precisely when parliamentarism is faltering that some question the country’s institutional balance, mentioning it anachronistically as an adequate model! This observation sparks a recurring debate; some circles, seduced by an imported ideal, propose to further “parliamentarize” the political system, or even to further reduce the institutional role of the Sovereign. An alluring proposal at first glance, but dangerously disconnected from national, historical, sociological, and deeply political realities; the institutional balance in Morocco has been forged by history in coherence with geography and demographic data. Morocco is not like other countries, and its people even less so. It is a nation-state marked by a distinct particularism that stands out among many others in the region and beyond. Since the 2011 Constitution, the country has advanced on a singular trajectory: that of a balanced constitutional monarchy, combining state stability and genuine political pluralism. This subtle articulation between the historical legitimacy of the Throne and the democratic legitimacy of other institutions has allowed the country to avoid the turbulences that have struck many states in the region, with disastrous consequences, it must be said. Within this framework, the sovereign does not present himself as a partisan actor but as an institutional arbitrator guaranteeing national cohesion and the continuity of ambitious reforms undertaken. Without this moral and political authority of great subtlety, the country risks sinking into the same deadlocks experienced by other fractured parliamentary regimes torn apart by factional quarrels and personal ambitions. Shifting the debate about systemic weaknesses and imperfections toward this subject dangerously distances one from the true issue: revitalizing and cleansing political life. Calls for an increased transfer of prerogatives to Parliament often miss the real problem: the weakness of the party system. The ailment of Morocco’s political system does not stem from an excess of monarchical authority but from a deficit of credibility among other political actors. The monarchy has never prevented parties from showing competence, coherence, or boldness. Too often, they have preferred rhetoric over action, abandoning the ground and responsibility. The challenge thus lies less in weakening royal power than in moralizing public life, enhancing parliamentary oversight, and demanding competence from elected officials. Democracy is measured not only by the formal distribution of powers but by the quality of their exercise and their impact on daily life and the course of history. Since independence, Morocco's strength lies in an immutable constant: reform without rupture, modernization without renouncing its foundations. This model, sometimes criticized in the name of an imported idealism and an ideology now collapsed after having caused much harm, remains one of the few to reconcile stability, openness, and ambition. Succumbing to institutional mimicry would be a strategic error in a global context where even great democracies doubt their own mechanisms. The Moroccan people, for the most part, know this. They are even deeply convinced of it. Some even go so far as to demand that all power be concentrated in the hands of the King; a way to loudly express their exasperation with the functioning of institutions they themselves elected. What a paradox it is to vote for people and then call on the King to rid us of them! Surprising, isn’t it? This is the particularism of this nation. Morocco does not need a regime change but a political and moral awakening. The monarchy, guarantor of continuity, is not an obstacle to Moroccan democracy: it is its backbone. Unity around it is the singularity of this country that has known how to traverse history, faithful to itself. This model is unique and arouses envy of all kinds. As Hassan II reminded us, democracy has no single definition. Each people must invent its own. This lesson remains strikingly relevant: Morocco will continue its own path, that of a thoughtful balance between authority and participation, tradition and modernity— a balance that is its strength and foundation of its stability. Morocco advances, and even in great strides. As for the adventurers and political sorcerers’ apprentices: prisoners of their contradictions, illusions, and failures, they will end up stranded on the shores of history. They advance masked by slogans: the communist suddenly becomes a fervent defender of human rights, and the Islamist discovers a democratic vocation. They simply forget that history has already judged them and that models are plentiful, and Moroccans know it. They are not fooled. This is not about those who have already made their mea culpa and repented, of course, but about all the others.

Video Games and Aggression: How Trustworthy Is the Research? 4502

Exodia04, 1 mon.

- Science - Society -

1.5 min read.

"The Effect of Video Game Competition and Violence on Aggressive Behavior" by Adachi and Willoughby (2011) is one of the most frequently cited studies in the literature on video game violence. Its credibility can be partially attributed to the fact that it is published by the American Psychological Association (APA), a highly reputable organization in the field of psychology. The researchers picked video games with similar levels of difficulty and speed but varying degrees of violence and competitiveness. These four metrics were evaluated in a pilot study in which participants briefly played each game and rated them on a seven-point scale. The researchers then conducted two experiments: - **Experiment 1:** The violent game chosen was Conan, an action game involving combat with swords and axes, while the nonviolent game was Fuel, a racing game. Both games were considered similarly competitive based on the pilot study. Participants were randomly assigned to play either Conan or Fuel. The experiment aimed to test whether violent content alone would lead to greater aggression after gameplay. The findings showed no significant differences in aggressive behavior between players of the violent and nonviolent games. However, the main concern with this finding is in its measure. The aggression was measured by having participants choose the amount and spiciness of hot sauce to give to another person who dislikes spicy food. A measure that does not fully capture the complexity of what aggressive behavior is. - **Experiment 2:** They selected 4 games: Mortal Kombat vs DC Universe (Violent and competitive), Left 4 Dead 2 (Violent but less competitive), Fuel (Nonviolent and competitive), and Marble Blast Ultra (Nonviolent and less competitive). The researchers found that competitiveness in video games, rather than violent content, significantly increased "aggressive" behavior. They measured it by having participants compete in a reaction-time button-press game against an opponent. When a player lost a round, the winner had control over the intensity and duration of an unpleasant noise blast delivered to the loser. The participant’s choice of how loud and how long to set the noise blast served as a proxy for aggressive behavior. Blasting the noise could indicate other motivations besides aggression, such as opponent intimidation to win the game, compliance with experimental expectations, or could have to do with the impulse management of the participant. Once again, the measure fails to reflect the multifaceted nature of aggression. Research papers like these shape the opinions of a significant portion of the public regarding the link between video games and violence, which raises the important question of how well such studies capture the true complexity of aggression and whether their findings should be featured in such reputable journals and directly influence public perception.

apa.org/pubs/journals/releases/v...

Demanding citizens, forgetful citizens: the other crisis of our society... 4833

Aziz Daouda, 1 mon.

- Politics - Society -

2.9 min read.

The citizen facing himself: between demands and forgetfulness In many contemporary societies and undoubtedly in ours as well, a strange trend is strengthening: that of the citizen who demands everything from the State but forgets to ask what he gives back in return. This stance of collective absolution, where responsibilities dissolve into criticism, nurtures a passive citizenship, often outraged but rarely engaged. Many blame the rulers while forgetting that it is we who voted for them and that not voting is in fact a vote for the majorities that are formed. When something goes wrong: unemployment, insecurity, education, health, the first reaction is often to accuse the State. More benefits, more justice, more transparency are demanded. This is legitimate. But in this claim, it is rare for each person to question their own role: do we pay our taxes properly? Do we respect the laws? Do we truly participate in civic life or do we prefer to leave it to the "others"? A country is not built only by the decisions of those who govern but by the conscious participation of its citizens. Public discourse often emphasizes rights: right to health, right to education, right to work, right to freedom of expression. But duties: civil, moral, and economic, are frequently forgotten. Yet, claiming a right without fulfilling a duty weakens the social contract. Everyday incivility, such as littering anywhere, cheating on taxes, circumventing rules, undermines society just as much as the major political failures we denounce. Rights are not won without fulfilling duties. Many denounce corruption as if it came from above, like dirty rain falling on innocent citizens. But the truth is more disturbing: the corrupter and the corrupted often merge in the same person. The merchant who cheats, the driver who slips a bribe to avoid a fine, the parent who seeks favoritism for their child: all participate in the same malaise. To accuse the "system" without recognizing oneself as a part of that system is to refuse to grow. Corruption is internalized and only bothers when one is its victim or when it must be protested, indulging in the taste of populism and nihilism. We peacefully, passively let ourselves be seduced by the simplistic discourse of populists. They play on anger, frustration, and fear. They provide ready-made scapegoats: the elites, foreigners, institutions. But very few listeners take the time to analyze, verify, and reason. Populism appeals because it relieves: it transforms reflection into emotion. Nihilism offers an even more dangerous pleasure: that of despair. To believe that all is lost, that all is lies, that nothing has meaning is to refuse the effort to think about reality and to participate in change. Many have a short memory and do not see the progress made, often because they do not bother to compare. Previous generations experienced misery, lack of schools, rudimentary healthcare, and permanent insecurity. Today, despite difficulties, material comfort, infrastructure, and freedoms are incomparable. Looking back is not complacency: it is a duty of lucidity to measure the path traveled. The era is one of protest without information. Our time is marked by hyper-reactivity. We contest before understanding, comment before knowing. Social networks amplify this impulse: we get outraged faster than we get informed. But an opinion not based on knowledge becomes noise, a nuisance, not a contribution. Criticism, to be legitimate, must be enlightened, supported, and verified. A responsible citizen does not just complain. He acts, informs himself, engages, and acknowledges both progress and errors. Only under these conditions can a nation evolve without sinking into sterile complaining. Did not John F. Kennedy say in his inauguration speech on January 20, 1961, his famous phrase, becoming both a personal and political signature: "Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country." This quote was meant to encourage Americans to first consider what they could bring to their country, not the other way around. The phrase highlights civic duty and personal responsibility within the nation framework and is perfectly transposable to us in these times. Apparently, John Kennedy was actually inspired by an older phrase spoken by a school principal in his childhood, who would say about a school called alma mater: "The youth who loves his alma mater will always ask not 'What can she do for me?' but 'What can I do for her?'" Kennedy might have replaced "alma mater" with "country" to make this patriotic motto. It raises the question of how many school principals are capable of such reflection and commitment to inspire our youth and make them aware of their duties before talking to them about their rights. Today, if the need is to formulate a new social pact to bring us all together around the same goal of moving forward and making our country even stronger, it is also appropriate to work on rephrasing a patriotic pact as it was the case at our independence or after the glorious Green March, recalling at every moment, with every breath, our motto Dieu, la Patrie, Le Roi. It is thus that all our demands will be heard, that our rights will be realized, that corruption will disappear, and that social peace will be forever established.

And if taxation became the key to our solutions in response to the anger of young people in Morocco? 5181

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.

- Politics - Society - Business -

3.3 min read.

At the end of September 2025, many young Moroccans protested everywhere to demand social justice, educational reforms, better access to healthcare, and the fight against corruption. This unprecedented movement, driven by Generation Z through the GenZ 212 collective, expressed deep distress in the face of precariousness, high unemployment reaching around 35% among 15-24 year olds, and a feeling of social injustice with millions of NEETs. This was predictable: recent inflation rates, the widespread decline in purchasing power, the pressure on street vendors who were suddenly targeted for eradication, some hastily decided measures linked to the Africa Cup of Nations and the World Cup could not remain without reaction from the population, and it was the youth who carried it. Projects that were supposed to unite us have in fact divided us. In response to this mobilization, everyone awaited attentively the speech of His Majesty King Mohammed VI on Friday, October 10, at the constitutional opening of the parliamentary session. It was the last speech before these parliamentarians. The next one in Parliament will be delivered in front of other parliamentarians of our choosing as well. We were all hanging on the Sovereign’s words, his tone, his gestures. The paternal serenity of the king reassured us from the first moments of his appearance. In perfect continuity with the Throne speech, the Sovereign insisted on responsibility and dialogue within institutions. He emphasized the importance of unity, stability, transparency, and social justice, and recalled the need for urgent reforms both in perception and structure, to build a united and prosperous Morocco. The line is drawn and the course specified: Morocco must become an emerging country and reach a GDP of 300 billion USD as soon as possible, benefiting the entire population and all regions of the country. The anger is perceived intelligently with serenity, and a clear response: based on major achievements, Morocco is embarking on a new era in its development, a more inclusive era that relies on the specificities and strengths of each region. The speech actually calls for a patriotic pact with the commitment of all. A pact in which projects do not collide but complement each other for the benefit of the people. Thus, the parliamentary session is launched and will tackle the finance bill, and it is the responsibility of the elected representatives to debate it. In the current context and to respond to royal directives, deputies as well as the government must think outside the box and debate constructively, certainly partisan but in the interest of the whole nation. In this context, taxation can become a more effective and better-adapted tool to the period we are going through and to each region. It must no longer be perceived or felt as a burden or merely a collection tool but as a strategic lever capable of supporting economic and social solutions. Too often reduced to tax collection to finance public spending, it can and must become an engine of growth, investment, and employment, particularly to meet the expectations of young people. It must become a lever for development and fairness. Among other things, it will be necessary to question the progressive tax reform between 2023 and 2026, which is debated, particularly with the rise of the corporate tax rate (IS) for small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs). For SMEs whose net taxable profit is less than or equal to 300,000 dirhams, the IS rate increased from 12.5% in 2023 to 17.5% in 2025, and will reach 20% in 2026. This reform aimed to adjust taxation while stimulating economic growth but raises questions about the real impact on SMEs and their capacity to invest and create jobs essential for Moroccan youth. It must be emphasized that SMEs create the most jobs in Morocco, just after the informal sector. The government, which wanted to create jobs, blocked this momentum, including by this poorly timed reform. On the contrary, SMEs which employ the most should benefit from significant tax deductions to help them grow. Internationally, several countries show that lightened taxation favors competitiveness and attracts investments, such as Ireland with a general IS rate of 12.5%. The Moroccan fiscal framework must be readjusted to stimulate growth and strengthen social justice while ensuring sufficient public revenues. The challenge in Morocco is to adopt taxation that supports economic recovery while responding to the youth's aspirations for more fairness. This requires joint commitment from the government and parliament to design a transparent, fair tax policy adapted to the reality of SMEs, informal entrepreneurs, and young workers. Taxation that leaves maximum purchasing power to citizens, thus stimulating the true engine of growth: domestic demand. A VAT of 20% does not do this. Integrating informal activities through taxation adapted to their size would allow valuing these actors as genuine entrepreneurs in the making, thus contributing to the formalization of the economy without crushing their capacities. A street vendor is actually the bearer of an SME project. How many success stories have been forged from precarious activities? Certainly, all this must be organized and regulated, but how does a young person starting a small business disturb us? The space belongs to everyone, including youth launching their own ventures without bothering anyone. Banning them makes bitter avengers ready for anything, while we are unable to offer them alternatives. In this period of social tensions and hopes for a better Morocco, taxation can become a powerful lever for economic transformation. It must be rethought not as a brake, but as a tool for collective emancipation. Deputies and ministers should read Ibn Khaldoun on this subject. Making taxation a factor of redistribution through prosperity, serving citizens and especially youth, is a path to explore to build a fairer, stronger Morocco capable of meeting tomorrow’s challenges. Moreover, promoting national successes in all fields, from entrepreneurship to sports to culture, is essential to nurture the pride and ambition of young Moroccans. The exemplary achievements of our compatriots should be mandatorily taught in schools to inspire curiosity, admiration, and serve as examples through work and innovation.

His Majesty King Mohammed VI: A Style Rooted in Responsibility, Justice, and Development for All 5189

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.

- Politics - History - Society -

3.2 min read.

Faithful to the line and logic he has established since the first day of his reign, His Majesty King Mohammed VI has once again confirmed his style. “Style is the man himself,” said Buffon in his famous speech at the French Academy in 1753. By this phrase, Buffon meant that style reflects the personality, thought, and sensitivity of the one who writes or speaks. In other words, the way ideas are expressed is as valuable as the ideas themselves, because it reveals, in a noble sense, what the man truly is: his character, rigor, taste, and intelligence. This reflection came to me from the very first steps of His Majesty as he descended from his car. His step is firm and his gait serene. He heads towards what represents a strong symbol of modern Morocco: the Parliament. The place where once a year the royal institution, the representatives elected by the people, and the government meet. An annual meeting that serves as a powerful symbol of the functioning and solidity of the country, just as Moroccans wished in 2011. All the country’s vital forces are there. His Majesty greets those present, all dressed in white, a symbol of purity. They scrutinize his gestures and hang on his words, their breaths low or heavy. The moment is serious. Eyes lower. Ears try to catch every word. Minds are focused. From the first words spoken, Buffon’s maxim is reversed: “Man is style.” The aphorism opens up another field of interpretation, perhaps more modern: style also shapes the man through education, culture, elegance in language and appearance. This is what was offered to us. His Majesty King Mohammed VI holds a fundamental conviction: institutions. Everything must happen within institutions and come only through institutions. On this October 10th, he reiterated this without ambiguity and with no roundabout phrasing. The words were finely chosen, but the speech was direct. Five key words will resonate beneath the beautiful dome. They will swirl above the heads of our valiant deputies and ministers throughout a full legislature: 1. Responsibility: His Majesty the King insisted on the seriousness and sense of duty of parliamentarians and the government in the final legislative year, emphasizing the necessity to act with integrity and efficiency in the service of the homeland. 2. Social Justice: A reaffirmed priority to fight inequalities and guarantee fair living conditions for all Moroccans, in line with national economic projects. 3. Reforms: A call to complete and accelerate ongoing structural reforms to consolidate the Kingdom’s democratic and socio-economic achievements. This is a key message of the speech. 4. Unity: The Sovereign launched an appeal for unity and the mobilization of all energies to defend the higher interest of the Nation and strengthen social cohesion. 5. Transparency: The promotion of transparency and citizen communication around public initiatives is highlighted as a key factor for trust and good governance. The royal speech of October 10, 2025, delivered by His Majesty King Mohammed VI before the Moroccan Parliament, marked a turning point full of hope and commitment for the final legislative year. The Sovereign strongly recalled the importance of “seriousness and sense of duty for the Nation’s representatives,” calling to “complete ongoing reforms, accelerate project implementation, and remain vigilant in defending citizen causes, while prioritizing the general interest.” One of the key elements of the speech is the undeniable coherence between economic ambitions and social programs. The Sovereign emphasized that there could be no contradiction between these two fundamental dimensions, which must imperatively “converge to improve the living conditions of all Moroccans and ensure balanced territorial development.” This vision underscores the royal commitment to build a Morocco where economic growth rhymes with social justice. His Majesty also insisted on the need for increased territorial justice, calling for integrated policies targeting the most fragile regions, such as mountainous areas, oases, or expanding rural centers. This approach aims to “facilitate access to services and stimulate local development,” while emphasizing “the importance of sustainable coastal management,” hinting at an ecological dimension and the possible threat of industries. These measures reflect a strong will for equity and territorial solidarity. In a spirit of unity, the Sovereign made a vigorous appeal for the mobilization of all actors, urging deputies and institutions to “mobilize all their energies in the supreme interest of the Nation” and to promote “transparency and citizen communication around public initiatives.” Facing the challenges, this unity is presented as a necessary force to support reforms and ensure the country’s sustainable progress. The speech fits a positive logic of institutional continuity, rigor, and collective ambition, making Morocco a “fairer, more modern and solidarity-based country.” Despite a national context marked by social movements, the royal message remains focused on constructive dialogue, fighting inequalities, and trusting institutions. This speech is thus a clear roadmap for a Morocco progressing with responsibility and justice, driven by an ambitious vision for a shared future. It confirms the style of a monarch adored by a people aware that everything must happen within institutions, in accordance with the constitution desired by the people’s will in 2011. Faithful to his convictions and his supreme mission as Commander of the Faithful, he recalls: “Whoever does the weight of an atom of good will see it, and whoever does the weight of an atom of evil will see it.” (Surah Az-Zalzala, verses 7 and 8). Az-Zalzala means “the great earthquake.” These verses express that nothing escapes divine justice: every act, no matter how small, will be accounted for on Judgment Day. The Sovereign’s choice is not accidental. Firmness is present. Isn’t he here making an extrapolation beyond the circumstance, in the most solemn context, to remind everyone of the imperative accountability and the firmness awaiting the corrupt and the deviants? These were the last words of His Majesty before this parliament, before concluding, and they are heavy, very heavy with meaning. The Monarch speaks little but says everything clearly and calmly. That is his style.

Walking Barefoot: The Urgency of a Political Awakening in Morocco... 4602

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.

- Politics - History - Society -

3.1 min read.

The current Moroccan context is intense, though not unprecedented. Morocco has experienced others before. The protests shaking several cities across the Kingdom, notably led by the collective GenZ 212, are not mere mood swings. They reflect a deep, multifaceted, and long-contained social anger. Inspired perhaps by youth movements seen elsewhere, these protests are rooted in a distinctly Moroccan reality: a young, connected, educated people but disillusioned with a system they believe no longer meets their expectations. This anger is multiple and undeniably legitimate, voiced on behalf of all generations. The demands focus on recurring but now explosive themes: fighting corruption, the deterioration of certain everyday public services like education and healthcare, the crisis of unemployed graduates, and dangerously widening social inequalities. To this is added a direct critique of the government's economic priorities. This youth, which no longer identifies with official rhetoric, expresses a new demand: a fairer, more transparent, and closer government. It calls for alignment between political speech and public action. This is not a depoliticized generation as some would like to think, but a generation that rejects pretenses and technocratic answers. It practices politics on the internet, often without realizing it. It speaks the language of everyday life: the price of chicken, healthcare, transport—not inflation rates or macroeconomic indices. It expresses itself through clicks, avatars, emojis, and stickers. It writes Darija in Latin letters and numbers. It seeks information quickly, responds instantly and succinctly. It dislikes long speeches it finds tedious. It lives in a globalized world but proudly claims its Moroccan specificity. When a citizen complains about the price of tomatoes, it's not an indicator’s graph or an IMF report that will reassure them; they speak in dirhams, not percentages. So what else can be done if not for decision-makers to walk barefoot from time to time? Walking barefoot means returning to reality. It means feeling the country. In this tense climate, the metaphor of the late Hassan II inviting architects to “walk barefoot to feel the country” takes on a striking resonance. Originally meant to emphasize understanding Morocco’s soul before building, it has become a political imperative today. Walking barefoot means stepping down from one’s pedestal, leaving air-conditioned offices, abandoning PowerPoints and slogans to listen to the ground. It means accepting to feel the dust of rural roads, hear the cries from saturated hospitals, share the despair of teachers, or the loneliness of unemployed youth. They must understand what a “two-speed Morocco” means, denounced by His Majesty King Mohammed VI himself. Part of the country lives in modernity, connected and optimistic, visible in infrastructure projects and international forums. The other, the majority, struggles with precariousness, poverty anxiety, neglect, and injustice. The gap between the two is widening. It is precisely this gap that the current protests expose. A few years ago, hope was born for a new development model, requested by His Majesty the King himself. What is its status today? Where is this model and its recommendations? The New Development Model (NDM), much praised at its launch, seems today to have been lost within bureaucratic and communication labyrinths. Its ambitions were high: reduce inequalities, strengthen social cohesion, encourage initiative. But on the ground, Moroccans hardly see the fruits. It has simply been forgotten. The prevailing impression is one of an increasing gap between promises and reality, between triumphant speeches and citizens’ daily life. This disenchantment is not only economic but also moral: trust is eroding, public discourse is losing meaning. Youth has forever been the moral compass of nations. It says out loud what others think quietly. The youth mobilization acts as a salutary shock. The movement is not monolithic: it unites students, unemployed youth, young workers, artists, teachers. But all share a common feeling: having been sidelined by a political and economic system that offers no prospects. This youth does not attack their country; it wants to save it from a threatening drift. It demands social justice, dignity, and respect. It wants not only to be spoken about but to be spoken with. It is a call for a rebuilding of social and political bonds, for genuine and sincere listening. The biggest mistake those in power could make is to underestimate this anger, or worse, to despise it. In a world where frustrations are expressed online before hitting the streets, ignoring youth voices sets the stage for a worse crisis. The urgency is to rediscover the spirit of this millennial country. Today, walking barefoot means returning to essentials: - Visiting village schools where children lack everything, - Visiting hospitals where some doctors perform miracles with nothing, but others are absent or resting after working elsewhere, - Listening to mothers who struggle to feed their families, - Understanding youth who refuse to live waiting for an administrative miracle. A country is not governed by PowerPoint slides, reports commissioned from foreign agencies, or promises crafted for social networks. It is governed with an awareness of reality, with the sense of the people, and the will to fix what hurts. Morocco has often proven its ability to overcome crises by reinventing itself. It still has the human, cultural, and institutional resources to do so. But this requires a change of perspective, a reconciliation with the truth on the ground, and a renewed political humility. Walking barefoot means reconnecting with deep Morocco, the Morocco that suffers but also hopes. It also means telling citizens hard truths when it errs and when it is itself the cause of its own misery. Walking barefoot means pushing young people to work and innovate. Only on this condition can social peace, national cohesion, and the country’s future be guaranteed.

An Illusory Return 4477

Boucharfou, 2 mon.

- Society - Lifestyle - Poetry -

1 min read.

An Illusory Return The morning breeze foretells the return of my beloved, After leaving me for so many years. If she truly comes, it will be at noon At least, that’s what she told me. The morning breeze foretells the return of my beloved, After leaving me for so many years. Could it be a premonition? Will she really come back to me? Or is it a pious wish, A dream of a time long gone and faded? Yet everything seems to foretell her return On this break of day: A blue sky, bright and clear, A sun rising early, strangely so, Majestic unusually radiant. The moon takes its leave discreetly and all the better for it. The morning breeze foretells the return of my beloved, After leaving me for so many years. I tremble and waver in my corner like a child, I cry out in enchantment, I can no longer keep still I lose all sense. A swallow lands upon my balcony, As if to show me its sympathy. The morning breeze foretells the return of my beloved, After leaving me for so many years. Time stops it feels like eternity. The ticking of my watch falters, losing its rhythm, The hands seem frozen, stretched apart. I hold my breath, I can hardly breathe, I’m suffocating, Sweat pouring from every pore, My head spinning, my sight blurred. The morning breeze foretells the return of my beloved, After leaving me for so many years. Suddenly, the morning breeze ceases. I sense that she is not yet ready. The sun vanishes like a sorcerer, Hiding behind the clouds. The moon peeks through now and then, As if to mock his retreat. The ticking of my watch resumes its old rhythm, The clock hands blend together enchantingly. I catch my breath again, Regain my composure, Put my jacket back on, Recover my reason, And stop asking questions. I am convinced she will not return today She has not kept her word, as always. I shall wait for another breeze, On another morning, That will once again announce her return. Until then I’ll go out for a walk. Dr. Fouad Bouchareb Rabat, October 26, 2022 All rights reserved.

The GenZ212 Letter: A Quest for Recognition and Royal Protection... 4580

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.

- Politics - History - Society -

2.6 min read.

Far be it from me to amplify the so-called letter from a collective claiming to represent GenZ212, but it is necessary to acknowledge that it deserves a critical reading and analysis to understand both its explicit and implicit content. Psychologically, the appeal to "express a need for recognition" is evident: the very act of addressing His Majesty the King directly reflects a search for symbolic validation. The authors seek to feel heard and to exist in the public space. The use of frustration language in their grievances conveys an emotional charge, mixing disappointment in economic, social, and identity challenges with aspirations for a better future. The letter reveals a tension between ideal and reality, illustrating a typical psychological divide of this generation: high ambition and demand but also fragility and a sense of powerlessness in the face of structural blocks. One can see a projection onto a paternal figure: His Majesty the King is viewed as the ultimate arbitrator, the supreme recourse, implicitly demanding protection and repair, which intermediate institutions have failed to provide. Sociologically, this is a generation searching for collective identity: the very name GENZ212 (212 being Morocco’s telephone code) reflects a claim of group identification, no longer just as isolated individuals. This highlights an emerging generational consciousness amid distrust towards established structures. The letter reveals criticism of the state, political parties, unions, and traditional institutions seen as disconnected from youth realities. This youth evolves in a world different from previous generations, using digital tools as leverage. The preference for direct channels (social networks, petitions, public letters) over traditional mediation reveals a sociological shift in collective action modes, underpinned by social and territorial inequalities. The grievances likely illuminate fractures in education, employment, housing, social mobility, access to culture, and health. These themes reflect a society where youth feel the social elevator blocked, aligning with the general sentiment and sadly overlooking many progress made. Politically, the letter acts as a symbolic contestation. Addressing His Majesty directly can be seen as implicit criticism of governance and intermediaries, bypassing classic political channels. It raises questions of legitimacy: GENZ212 does not speak for all Moroccan youth but claims to represent them, raising issues of representativeness and possible political co-optation. It is probably a signal to decision-makers: if institutional dialogue channels remain closed, youth may permanently turn away from institutions and radicalize their discourse. The positive point is a genuine bet on the future. By turning to His Majesty the King, they place trust in the royal authority to drive structural reform, a sign both of loyalty and failure of democratic mediations. The letter also invites critical reading of style and tone. The style is direct but sometimes naive. It adopts a frank, often unfiltered tone typical of young generations used to spontaneous expression on social media, blogs, or videos. This gives authenticity but sometimes sacrifices argumentative rigor and credibility. The tone oscillates between respect and defiance. The text addresses His Majesty with marks of deference while openly criticizing society and the state. This dual register expresses tension and hope: wanting to challenge political leaders while remaining within the bounds of monarchical loyalty. Use of collective vocabulary (“we, the youth,” “our generation,” “the country's future”) shows a desire to speak on behalf of a community. However, the overemphasis sometimes feels more emotional than programmatic. The language is symbolic and identity-focused, with no clear prioritization of grievances. The claims are listed as frustrations without clear structuring into priorities or concrete proposals. Thus, it is more a plaintive tone than strategic approach. The style is hybrid, mixing activism and advocacy, revealing hesitation between a militant manifesto and a petition addressed solemnly and respectfully to the supreme authority. This perfectly reflects a generation still finding its discursive register, convinced like its elders that improvements must come through the nation’s chosen and defended framework. The style and tone reinforce the letter’s heartfelt character: sincere, emotional, and collective. However, they suffer from lack of rhetorical maturity (weak structure, redundancies, slogans rather than solutions). Politically, the remarks aim to symbolically touch and spark public debate. The GenZ212 letter is thus a hybrid act combining psychological distress, sociological claim, and political gesture. It highlights: - A feeling of exclusion and marginalization among youth, - A need for recognition and direct listening, - A questioning of intermediaries, - A strong expectation towards the monarchy as guardian of justice and a radiant future. Ultimately, the GenZ212 letter is a quest for recognition and royal protection. It is worth noting that the phenomenon is not unique to Morocco and arrived through osmosis as it exists in many parts of the world. These movements are often amplified by digital platforms, turning isolated frustrations into collective mobilizations despite geographical or cultural differences, development gaps, and democracy levels. It is also important to note the proximity of manipulation and nihilistic speech impact.

He thinks.... 4523

Boucharfou, 2 mon.

- Society - Lifestyle - Poetry -

0.6 min read.

He thinks.... He thinks that in his nailed hands I'm nothing but a toy. I don’t think I’ll go back to him. Today, everything has changed As if nothing had ever happened. And with the innocence of angels from the skies in the look in his eyes, He tells me: I am the keeper of this place, And that I am his one true love. He brought me flowers. How could I not accept them? And all the naivety of youth I found again in his gentle smile. I no longer remember... the fire in your eyes. How did I find myself in his arms? I laid my head on his chest, proud, Like a child returned to their father or mother. Even my long-abandoned dresses danced at his feet, all of them. I forgave him… and asked how he had been. And I cried for hours under his armpit. And without thinking, I gave him my hand, So it could sleep like a bird in his. And I forgot all my hatred in a fraction of a second. Who said I held a grudge against him? How many times did I say I’d never return? And yet I came back. My return is wonderful. To my first love. Dr. Fouad Bouchareb All rights reserved Toulouse, May 29, 2025

GenZ 212: the Imperative of a New Political and Social Pact... 4619

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.

- Politics - History - Society -

2.6 min read.

In a Morocco pulsating with change, a new breath sweeps through its streets and squares. Imagine, for a moment, the gaze of a young person walking down the avenues of Rabat, their heart filled with an unshakable conviction: that their country must urgently rewrite its destiny, redefine its governance, and above all, give its youth the place they deserve, as builders worthy of their dreams. This Morocco, once proud of its 2011 Constitution born of a hopeful protest movement, now seems mired in suffocating practices that fuel frustration and stagnation. So many promises inscribed in that text have gone unfulfilled, so many provisions willfully forgotten. The demanding youth, thirsty for justice and inclusion, feel this deeply. For them, it is experienced as a painful fracture. The world is accelerating with a relentless rhythm, and that fracture is palpable everywhere: nearly 30% of Moroccans are under 30. Yet key decisions are made in the shadows, far from their aspirations, in the hands of aging elites clinging to power, elites who lack humility and bristle at lessons from the younger generation. The divide also runs through the youth themselves. Many passionate young activists, full of innovation, openly reject recent disturbances. “We do not want to be represented by incompetents, troublemakers, or those who tarnish our cause,” they assert firmly. Yet the feeling of exclusion burns in their words: “We are the future, the Morocco of tomorrow, yet we are pushed to the margins; our voices remain unheard.” Parliament, regional councils, political parties, impenetrable strongholds, all hold the keys to change tightly. How, then, can genuine reform be hoped for? Faced with this reality, the dream of profound overhaul goes far beyond mere formal adjustments. It calls for a genuine institutional leap, one that fully includes youth and neglected territories. Among the proposals are the reintroduction of generational quotas in assemblies to guarantee tangible representation, lowering eligibility ages to inject fresh air into politics, and creating consultative bodies where young voices are not just background noise but concrete levers for action. Ironically, the Youth Council envisioned by the Constitution, a space meant for unity and expression, remains a dead letter after three successive governments. Health and education issues have only served as detonators. The discussion quickly expanded into another battle: resistance to regional suffocation. Centralization, that stubborn relic, continues to strangle territorial potential. The promised regionalization of 2011 has never delivered the political and financial autonomy necessary for each region to become an independent engine of development. It is probably time for regions to truly decide their own paths, manage their resources, and drive their own projects, including in health and education. Far from weakening the Moroccan nation, this would strengthen it. At the heart of these debates lies a fundamental demand: national sovereignty built on inclusion and trust. In a fragile world fraught with economic, climatic, and geopolitical crises, Morocco must reinforce legitimacy through participation and justice. Was it not Mahdi Elmandjra who said, “A country that ignores the potential of its youth has no future”? Today, more than ever, a new social pact must emerge, based on justice, shared responsibility, and genuine participation. This youth, driven by unprecedented energy, has rediscovered courage. Rooted in history and loyal to the monarchy, it dares to envision a Morocco turned toward tomorrow. Democracy is no longer an abstract luxury, it is the sine qua non for sustainable development and a harmonious society, the key to forever breaking down the wall of a two-speed Morocco. This awakening Morocco calls for revising political mechanisms, an essential opportunity to build a fairer, more inclusive country where young people become masters of their destiny. They no longer identify with traditional models. They do not simply *live* on the internet, they *build* their professions, their world, their culture, and their lives there. Their universe is called Discord, TikTok, Instagram. It is not only a playground, but an exposed space where joys and frustrations are expressed, and where manipulation lurks. It is time for everyone to realize: this movement is irreversible. It moves in rhythm with a world in perpetual, exponentially accelerating change. We must accept it, fully embrace this deep transformation, and understand that **GenZ212** simply demands a new political and social pact. At the same time, this same GenZ212 must not overlook that today’s living conditions are far better than those of their parents, and even more so their grandparents, and that the country’s development indicators are largely positive, with a spectacular decline in poverty rates. Morocco is producing elites at a remarkable pace and now needs investments, reforms, and economic dynamism to absorb them. This transformation is underway, and it is the role of politics to explain it.

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Leïla Slimani: when words spoken to please betray the reality of an entire country civilisation... 3634

Morocco, this quiet conviction that still needs to be shared... 3929

The Emerging Political Maturity of Moroccan Youth: A Legacy of GENZ212 4206

The compagnonnage, a forgotten path for reintegrating young NEETs... 4433

Reform, yes. Imitate, no. Morocco facing the parliamentary illusion... 4523

Video Games and Aggression: How Trustworthy Is the Research? 4502

Demanding citizens, forgetful citizens: the other crisis of our society... 4833

And if taxation became the key to our solutions in response to the anger of young people in Morocco? 5181

His Majesty King Mohammed VI: A Style Rooted in Responsibility, Justice, and Development for All 5189

Walking Barefoot: The Urgency of a Political Awakening in Morocco... 4602

An Illusory Return 4477

The GenZ212 Letter: A Quest for Recognition and Royal Protection... 4580

He thinks.... 4523

GenZ 212: the Imperative of a New Political and Social Pact... 4619

✍️ My Father's Pen 499