Think Forward.

I Saw Aicha Kandisha, And I Am Cursed To Never Forget 9169

Anas Bedraoui, 2 y.

- Fiction - Fantasy - Mystery -

2.5 min read.

Deep in the heart of Moroccan lore, where ancient spirits linger like echoes in the Sahara’s wind, lies a tale that turns the blood of its listeners to ice. This isn’t just a story; it’s a personal confession, a chilling recount of my encounter with the feared Aicha Kandisha on the night of July 15, 2009. It was the height of summer in 2009 when my interest in the myths of Morocco led me to a quaint village cradled by the Atlas Mountains. Among the local spirits, Aicha Kandisha is perhaps the most captivating and terrifying. Depicted with the legs of a goat and a bewitching beauty that belies her true nature, she is both feared and revered as a water jinn who brings a curse upon any man who lays eyes upon her. Driven by a blend of skepticism and intrigue, I dismissed the stern warnings of the villagers and made my way to a stream rumored to be haunted on the outskirts of the village. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the clock neared 8:43 PM, I found myself standing by the gently flowing waters enveloped in the heavy, sweet scent of wild jasmine — a smell that was soon accompanied by an unsettling sense of foreboding. At precisely 9:17 PM, a sudden, icy wind cut through the valley, rustling the leaves and carrying with it the faint murmur of ancient voices. The air grew colder, and I felt an eerie sensation of being watched. When I turned, my heart seized at the sight before me. There, by the water’s edge, stood a figure of both mesmerizing and horrific aspect. Her beauty was otherworldly, with eyes that smoldered like dark embers and skin that glowed softly under the moonlight. Yet, it was her legs that truly horrified — cloven and covered in coarse black fur, they stamped lightly on the soft earth as she moved towards me with an unsettling grace. Rooted to the spot, I watched as she approached. She spoke in a voice that was both melodious and laden with a deep, enduring sorrow, “Why do you seek me, son of distant lands?” Her gaze pierced deep into my soul, paralyzing me further. I was unable to speak, completely caught in her hypnotic presence. She circled around me, her intense fragrance of jasmine growing stronger and more heady, almost overpowering in its intensity. “Many have sought me out, driven by curiosity or what they perceive as bravery. Few have managed to leave without bearing some form of scar,” she whispered, her voice chilling as her breath brushed against my ear. The wind grew into a roar by 9:36 PM, now carrying with it the screams of those long tormented and lost. The waters of the stream began to thrash and churn as if something ancient and monstrous stirred beneath its surface. Fear gripped me entirely, and in a desperate attempt to communicate, I found my voice, “I meant no disrespect, I merely wished to learn more,” I stammered, my voice barely a whisper, pleading for some semblance of mercy. Her laughter rang out then, a sound that seemed to mock my very existence, resonant and echoing through the valley, “Then learn you shall,” she declared ominously, “But remember, all knowledge comes at a price.” She vanished into the night at 9:45 PM, leaving me alone by the now tumultuous stream, her lingering presence like a cold shadow in the air. I made my way back to the village, a changed man. The villagers saw the terror etched upon my face and the unnatural pallor of my skin. They knew without words that Aicha Kandisha had marked me, a silent testament that certain mysteries should indeed remain untouched. To this day, I am haunted by nightmares filled with the scent of jasmine and the pale light of the moon. Her mocking laughter echoes in my ears, a cruel reminder of my encounter. Each night as the air grows thick with the fragrance of jasmine and the shadows lengthen under the moonlight, I feel her icy gaze upon me from the darkness, watching and perhaps amused by my lingering terror, ready to remind me once more of the dreadful cost of my forbidden curiosity. The encounter has left an indelible mark on my psyche, a deep-seated fear that perhaps some secrets are indeed too perilous to explore, and that some spirits, like Aicha Kandisha, are better left in the realm of the unknown.

medium.com/entropies/i-saw-aicha...

Anas Bedraoui

Anas Bedraoui is a PhD candidate at FMS, UM6P, Morocco. He is a member of the Early Career Advisory Group at eLife, Cambridge, UK. Anas is interested in writing about science, research, and psychology. He loves the BLUWR community.

14000

Eternal Morocco, Unbreakable Morocco: The Identity That Triumphs Over Exile... 137

Aziz Daouda, 7 h.

- Politics - History - Society -

2.1 min read.

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

My Pain Qualifies Me 298

Julius Melien, 22 h.

- Health - Philosophy -

1.3 min read.

At an immersion meeting for psychoanalysts, I heard the phrase: “My pain qualifies me,” and immediately, like a lightning bolt, it struck deeply within me and, with the speed of a thought, made complete sense. I was able to perceive it with a clarity that, honestly, I don’t recall ever experiencing before in my entire life. It was so intense that I felt certain I was in the right place, investing in a career that, until not long ago, I couldn’t have imagined myself pursuing even in my dreams. Although this discovery is recent, given the fascination it caused me, perhaps it had been stored in my unconscious all along, likely as a repressed desire, even due to my own prejudice regarding matters of the human mind. Because of unsuccessful past experiences, I had come to doubt the effectiveness of psychotherapy, even considering it at times as a way of making easy money at the expense of others’ suffering. I believed that a person in distress could simply rely on friends and family to vent, share their problems, and relieve tension, while medications prescribed by doctors would do their part. However, upon hearing that my pain qualified me, now, of course, with a different mindset and studying psychoanalysi, I felt as though I was experiencing a kind of gnosis. I know my pain, or rather, my pains, and I fully understand this statement. When we set out to help someone who carries their own pain, we can even through a simple look, convey to the analysand that we understand what they are going through. This phenomenon is what we call countertransference: emotions, feelings, and thoughts that arise in our unconscious in relation to the analysand. These feelings and emotions are developed by the therapist during a therapy session. In that space, we become aware that there are two souls facing each other, one pouring out their thoughts, anxieties, and traumas, and the other offering attentive listening, care, and guidance, helping them find their path and providing tools to manage their struggles and move forward in life as best as possible. And for the therapist who has experienced, or still experiences pain, it also becomes an opportunity for self-analysis, which undoubtedly gives full meaning to the exchange that takes place between two souls standing face to face with their pains.

AFCON 2025: The Trophy that Sets the Savannah Ablaze.. 401

Aziz Daouda, 24 h.

- Politics - Society - Sports -

2.4 min read.

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

Faceless War, Disoriented World, Trapped Citizen... 402

Aziz Daouda, 1 d.

- Politics - Philosophy -

2.6 min read.

There was a time when war made sense, or at least appeared to. It pitted identifiable camps against each other, produced winners and losers, and sometimes ended in peace, even imperfect peace, sometimes signed in a train car. Before that, it unfolded in battles for which appointments were even set, far from civilians. They observed each other, sized one another up, and collectively decided the start time of the clashes. A true war of the brave. There were always winners and losers. Thank cinema for reliving those scenes, more or less romanticized, but scenes nonetheless... From World War I to the Cold War, closer to us, conflicts, however tragic, followed a certain historical intelligibility. Since then, joysticks have crept in, and computers have taken over... Things changed; dare we say: they dehumanized. Contemporary war, as it emerges in the triangular confrontation between the United States, Israel, and Iran, seems to have broken with that old logic. It's no longer just complex: it's become ungraspable, unintelligible to ordinary mortals like us. It doesn't just oppose forces; it dissolves the very landmarks that once allowed us to understand what war is. Who is the victor? Who is the vanquished? The question feels almost out of place. For this modern war produces no clear verdict, but a succession of competing narratives saturated with propaganda, disinformation, and what we now call "fakes." Truth itself becomes a battlefield, fragmented, manipulated, inaccessible. Lies are baked into the system. Reality wavers and fades. Yet lives are lost in anonymity, buildings surely turned to mush, billions of dollars vanished, likely burned in milliseconds by traders, exploded without a trace except by making poor people everywhere. In this war, roles seem interchangeable. One of those who triggered the hostilities seeks to extricate itself, as if suddenly discovering the vertigo of what it initiated. The second? Who knows. Its war logic has long been impenetrable. It presents itself as the aggressed party, refuses all negotiation, or pretends to, while expanding the theater of operations. The one retaliating, the third protagonist, loses its leaders, gets hammered daily for over a month, yet seems driven by an endless escalation logic too. Toward what horizon? It strikes beyond its declared adversaries without provoking proportional reactions. Part of its war is waged against those who don't want it and resist with all their might, without retaliation. How long will this last? We must ask: what does "winning" mean in a war with no clear limits or identifiable final objective? We are thus confronted with a profound mutation of war: it is no longer a means in service of a political end, as once thought, but an autonomous, self-sustaining process, almost abstract. A war that no longer aims for peace, but for its own perpetuation. And yet, this distant war is not so distant. Beyond strategies and rhetoric, it's civil societies that pay the price. Here in Morocco, elsewhere in the world, the effects hit with silent brutality. Energy prices climb, threatening psychological thresholds unthinkable just forty days ago: 20 dirhams per liter of gasoline soon. Tomatoes, fish, chicken, lentils, and the rest will follow... Anxiety is very real. The economy becomes war prolonged by other means. The citizen becomes an adjustment variable. It's they who foot the bill. Even when they don't want war, they must still pay for it, wherever they are, even at the ends of the earth. Faced with this, governments seem powerless. They dust off old solutions, already tested and already ineffective, as if economic history itself were trapped in eternal recurrence. This political impotence amplifies the sense of injustice and abandonment. Thus arises the question, almost metaphysical: what have we done to deserve this? This so-human question may be ill-posed. For it assumes an immanent justice in the world's course, a moral logic linking our acts to our collective fate. Yet the tragedy of our era is precisely the absence of that coherence. The world is not just: it is unstable, chaotic, traversed by forces beyond us. Perhaps that's the price of calling ourselves democratic, living in or under democracies... or not. Perhaps we need to rephrase the question. Not: why is this happening to us? But: how to keep living in a world where meaning slips away beneath our staggering feet? That is probably the true philosophical challenge of our time. Not understanding war, for it now escapes classical understanding, but preserving, despite everything, a capacity to think, to resist confusion, to refuse letting lies become the norm. If modern war is faceless, endless, and truthless, then the only possible victory is internal to each of us: upholding, against all odds, a demand for lucidity, a touch of humanism, hope, a dream.

African Football: Between Emotional Populism and Institutional Order.. 969

Aziz Daouda, 3 d.

- Politics - Sports -

3.3 min read.

The CAF dealt the Senegal national football team an implacable administrative defeat, awarding a default victory to the Moroccan national team in the 2025 AFCON final. This sanction, rooted in the CAF's disciplinary regulations, punishes any abandonment of the pitch, even if temporary. At one point in the match, the Senegalese coach consciously decided to have his players leave the field. Only one remained on the pitch. Under football rules, a match requires at least seven players on the field to continue to its conclusion. Despite winning after a rollercoaster extra time, the team paid the price for blatant indiscipline: unleashed supporters, partial pitch invasion, assaults and injuries, prolonged interruption during which the players returned to the locker rooms on their coach's dramatic order. Forget the simplistic narrative of a "Morocco vs. Senegal" clash that some, particularly on the Senegalese side, push to imply political motives. Nothing could be further from the truth. The affair stems from an initial clash between the Royal Moroccan Football Federation (FRMF) and the CAF. The FRMF asked the CAF to apply its own rules and those of FIFA, questioning their non-enforcement. Recall that the Moroccan national team strictly followed the referee's directives, even resuming play alone on the pitch for 14 minutes while the Senegalese headed to the locker rooms. The question, then, is: why did the referee refrain from applying the rules? The answer lies in the CAF's backrooms. A "CAF official" allegedly ordered the referee to flout the rules and not sanction the team that left the pitch. The FRMF took the matter to the CAF's bodies, which referred it to its Disciplinary Committee, normally chaired by a Senegalese. For convenience's sake, this committee rejected the FRMF's request. Far from giving up, surprised by the decision, the FRMF appealed. In appeal, it is not members who decide, but independent judges selected across the continent. The ruling was unequivocal: applying the rules, the Moroccan national team is declared the 2025 AFCON winner. The dispute between the FRMF and the CAF thus ended. Up to this point, the matter is purely sporting. The Senegalese Football Federation (FSF), unhappy with the Appeal Jury's ruling and defending the on-pitch result, refers the case to the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS). Senegal does not merely contest the decision: it launches a frontal assault on regulatory sovereignty, legally demanding an international corruption probe into the bodies. It is the Senegalese government that responds to the CAF and escalates the case. To prove corruption, it will need to identify the corrupted party and the corrupter... Through its decision, the CAF prioritized law over on-pitch emotion—an emotion unfortunately fueled off-pitch by the stupidity of those who, for a few more followers or AdSense dollars, spread indescribable hatred between two brotherly peoples. This is not a Senegal-Morocco issue, but a sporting one between the FRMF and the CAF, and between the FSF and the CAF. Some reminders are in order for the instigators on both sides, without defending the CAF and its bodies, which will answer the corruption accusations. The CAF's regulatory fortress rests on three impregnable pillars, bolstered by these regulation excerpts: **WITHDRAWALS** **ARTICLE 82** If, for any reason, a team withdraws from the competition or fails to appear for a match, or refuses to play or leaves the pitch before the regulatory end of the match without the referee's authorization, it will be deemed to have lost and will be definitively eliminated from the ongoing competition. The same applies to teams previously disqualified by CAF decision. **ARTICLE 84** The team that breaches the provisions of Articles 82 and 83 will be definitively excluded from the competition. It loses the match 3-0. If the opposing team was leading by a more favorable score at the time of the match stoppage, that score will be maintained. Additional measures may be taken by the Organizing Committee. The three pillars underpinning the decision are thus: **Absolute compliance**: Article 82 defines any team withdrawal as abandonment, triggering automatic forfeit. The 14 Senegalese minutes fall squarely under it, without ambiguity. **Mechanical proportionality**: The sanction is not discretionary; it flows verbatim from the texts and is validated by CAS jurisprudence. **Institutional primacy**: The referee tolerated a de facto resumption under pressure, but the CAF holds the power to rule on discipline. What will the CAS say if it is indeed seized by the Senegalese side? Conservative by nature, the CAS never positions itself as a sports judge; it upholds bodies when rules are clear. As an inflexible guardian of stability, it will reject any Senegalese "symbolic legitimacy." To prevail, Senegal must outmaneuver: invoke a resumption invalidating the abandonment, a "disproportionate" sanction, or the "spirit of the game." Fragile ploy: the CAS has systematically dismissed such escapes when texts are explicit. Several African federations, including the FRMF in the 2015 AFCON affair, as well as various clubs and CAF-affiliated associations, have appealed to the CAS against sanctions for forfeits, withdrawals, or regulatory breaches. In these cases, the CAS has consistently favored a strict reading of applicable regulations, dismissing arguments based on force majeure or mitigating circumstances when texts provided for automatic sanctions. The affair's outcome will inevitably be the CAF's victory, confirming the Appeal Jury's judgment. The Senegalese forfeit will be upheld, the title confirmed for Morocco. Jurisprudence will emerge strengthened by the triumph of law, shielding future competitions from chaos. One slim surprise remains possible: a replay or revision if the CAS rules the abandonment was not definitive. But will it risk unprecedented instability by overriding such clear rules? This is not a matter of interpretation, but of pure rule application. The CAS will crown the CAF, exposing Senegal's precarious position. Far from a bilateral duel, this crisis pits rule respect against populist temptation. Law will prevail: the CAF will reaffirm its sovereignty, for an African football governed by legislation, not emotional riots. The 2025 AFCON, not confiscated, will mark the consolidation of a continental legal order.

Oil Taxation, Aid Efficiency, and Social Justice: What Strategy for Morocco Facing Energy Shocks? 1394

Aziz Daouda, 6 d.

- Politics - Business -

2.8 min read.

When the Russia-Ukraine war broke out, global energy markets were brutally disrupted. The barrel price crossed historic thresholds, triggering an immediate surge in pump prices in net importer countries like Morocco. In response, the government opted for direct aid to transporters to contain inflation and prevent pass-through to goods and services prices. However, the experience revealed its limits. Despite the subsidies, transport prices did indeed rise, pulling up the cost of all products and services in their wake. This gap between intention and reality raises a central question: how to effectively cushion an energy shock in a liberalized economy without widening inequalities or fueling rents? The decision to specifically aid transporters rested on the implicit assumption that they would act as shock absorbers, absorbing part of the increase. Yet, in a market with tight margins and fierce competition, it is economically rational for operators to pass on costs to fares, despite public support. Several factors explain this relative failure: - Lack of binding mechanisms. No strict obligation prevented pass-through to final prices. - Windfall effect. Some companies received aid without altering their pricing policy. - Targeting difficulties. Aid benefited a specific segment without ensuring a broad, lasting impact on the economy. This observation is all the more troubling since Morocco remains heavily dependent on refined product imports following the closure of the Samir refinery. Today, tensions around the Strait of Hormuz are reigniting fears of a new oil shock. This maritime corridor, through which about 20% of global oil transits, is a critical chokepoint in worldwide energy supply. Any disruption sends prices soaring and, mechanically, pump prices in Morocco. States worldwide have adopted varied strategies, with mixed results: - Price caps. Effectiveness is immediate, with tariff shields on electricity and gas, sometimes paired with fuel caps. These measures contain short-term inflation at the cost of very high budgetary expense, disincentives to energy sobriety, and windfalls for the wealthiest consumers. - Direct transfers. A social but imperfect response. Some countries issued energy checks or lump-sum aid to households. Politically popular, these tools are often criticized for their inflationary nature, lack of precise targeting, and risk of fostering dependence on one-off aid. - Tax modulation, a structural lever. Several states, like Austria, Spain, Italy, or Japan, chose to temporarily cut fuel taxes to limit pump price hikes. This approach directly affects the final price paid by all consumers, without intermediaries. It relies on principles of readability and shared effort between the state and users. In Morocco's case, a significant portion of the pump price consists of taxes—such as TIC and VAT—which heavily influence the per-liter price and give the state major leverage in price formation. Temporarily reducing these taxes would establish an explicit shock-sharing mechanism between the state and citizens, rather than concentrating aid on one sector. This option offers several advantages: - Universality: it benefits everyone, from truck drivers to salaried workers using their car for commuting. - Transparency: the reduction is immediately visible at the pump, boosting trust and the readability of public action. - Economic efficiency: it directly lowers fuel costs. - Social justice: by forgoing part of the fiscal rent on a now-essential product, the state clearly shoulders its share of the effort. Targeted and temporary reduction of oil taxation thus emerges as the most effective and democratic solution to cushion an energy quake. This path is not new in Moroccan debate, as evidenced by the widespread support via the Compensation Fund, phased out from 2015 onward. Lightening fuel costs through subsidies has already been implemented without achieving the theoretically expected results. Need we remind? Any tax reduction, if enacted, cannot be unlimited or permanent but must be strictly time-bound, calibrated to budgetary capacity, and linked to broader hydrocarbon market reform (competition, margins, strategic storage, reopening or alternative to national refining capacity). In other words, tax modulation should not be a short-term reflex but the tool of a comprehensive energy security strategy. Morocco faces a strategic choice: persist with one-off aid to transporters or embrace shock-sharing via taxation. If it chooses the latter and loses short-term revenue, it will gain in social cohesion and economic predictability, with three key lessons: - Prioritize direct mechanisms via taxation, a key pump price component, as the most effective tool for rapid, universal, and democratic action. - Avoid market distortions. Targeted aid without strict controls produces opposite effects; it fuels rents without protecting the end consumer. - Think long-term. Energy issues cannot be divorced from industrial sovereignty (refining, storage) and state budgetary resilience. Beyond conjunctural management, it is a true social contract around energy that must be rethought. In a country where the car is both a work tool, a means of access to essential services, and a vector of mobility, fuel price is a deeply political issue at the intersection of social justice and budgetary sustainability. Rather than multiplying one-off devices for a single sector, Morocco would benefit from a more systemic approach based on fiscal transparency, equity, and economic efficiency. Fuel tax modulation, as a universal and immediate lever, better meets democratic demands. It is a more credible response to current shocks and those to come.

The Strategic Prudence of Gulf Monarchies: A Vital Calculus in the Face of Iran and American Uncertainties... 1395

Aziz Daouda, 6 d.

- World Politics - Business -

2.6 min read.

The Gulf monarchies: Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates, Qatar, or Kuwait, embody a glaring strategic vulnerability. Their shallow territorial depth and narrow demographics expose vital infrastructure: airports, ports, refineries, gas terminals, headquarters of major companies, to rapid strikes by potential enemies from the region and beyond. Iran, for instance, with its arsenal of ballistic missiles, drones, and asymmetric naval forces, coupled with the belligerent philosophy of its regime, could paralyze them in the blink of an eye. The 2019 attack on Aramco's oil facilities at Abqaiq and Khurais provides irrefutable proof: Saudi production had then plummeted by half. To the Saudis' surprise, the Americans remained evasive and barely retaliated, at least not in a clear and direct manner. For Riyadh, this silence was a telling signal: allies are no longer infallible. Signed agreements can remain dead letters at the whim of one party, depending of course on the interests of the moment and changing circumstances. A growing, though undeclared, distrust of Washington had then taken hold. Commitments, agreements, and promises only bind those who believe in them. Over the past two decades, trust in the United States among Gulf capitals has eroded a little more each day. The 2011 withdrawal from Iraq, the lack of a strong response after the 2019 attacks, and the Afghan chaos of 2021 have ingrained a lesson that those concerned have fully internalized: Washington disengages when the cost rises. This uncertainty thus encourages prudence in the face of open war with Tehran. It will likely be the case again today, as the specter of a long and destructive war occupies all minds. The risks of a prolonged conflict are more than probable. A direct confrontation would quickly degenerate into a prolonged regional conflict, akin to the Iran-Iraq War (1980-1988), which killed over a million people and ruined both belligerents. Today, the stakes would be worse: destruction of energy infrastructure, closure of the Strait of Hormuz, collapse of foreign investments, and capital flight from the area. Gulf leaders, haunted by these scenarios, prioritize stability and intelligently bow their heads. For a long time, they have chosen to prioritize economic development, a choice now put to a severe test. The monarchies have pivoted toward transforming their respective economies: Saudi Arabia's Vision 2030, diversification in the UAE, Qatari global investments, and other manifestations of universal scope. This requires confidence, for it must not be forgotten that these economies fundamentally rest on trust. A prolonged war would threaten tourism, megaprojects like NEOM or smart cities. For the Gulf monarchies, the doctrine is clear: regional stability trumps ideological confrontations. This shift is embodied in the China-mediated reconciliation of 2023 between Riyadh and Tehran, aimed at reducing tensions and sparing Gulf territories, which refuse to become indirect battlefields. Today, though threatened, bombed, and provoked, the Gulf monarchies intelligently demonstrate their refusal to be dragged into a conflict they did not choose. At least for now, as everything could tip at any moment. Despite discreet security cooperations, Gulf countries refuse to be drawn into a conflict for Israel's benefit. The latter enjoys military and nuclear superiority, but Iranian retaliations strike primarily, and above all, Arab bases, economic, and civilian infrastructure. The costs fall on the Arabs, not Tel Aviv. The leaders of the countries concerned have learned the lesson. They have seen what became of Iraq, Syria, Libya, and Yemen, where proxy wars between powers left states bloodless, highlighting the fatal traps that ignition inevitably brings. In these dynamics, Morocco, a strategic ally and highly regarded voice among Gulf countries, emerges as a de-escalation actor. Under King Mohammed VI's impetus, Morocco's moderating voice advocates regional stability, diplomatic solutions, and South-South cooperation to foster political reconstruction and economic exchanges. It is in this context that one must appreciate His Majesty's permanent contacts with the sultans and emirs of the region. This is indeed a lucid calculus, as Morocco is one of the rare countries in the region to have voluntarily severed all ties with the Mullahs long ago. The prudence of Gulf states transcends mere distrust of the United States. It stems from a perspicacious calculus that factors in vulnerability to Iran, uncertain American reliability, the risk of a ruinous war, and the primacy of development. Their mantra? Avoid at all costs becoming the theater of confrontations between regional powers and distant others. This is how their reserve and refusal to retaliate impulsively must be understood. Having nerves on edge is not what's needed. However, things could change if Iran does not come to its senses and leaves a region that, even ideologically hostile, will never go so far as to attack it alone. It lacks the means without potential allies and has no interest in doing so with others' help. Such a situation would be ruinous for the entire region, including Iran, an outcome no one should wish for, apparently.

Africa Cup of Nations 2025: When the Victim Becomes the Culprit... 2069

Aziz Daouda, 9 d.

- Politics - Sports -

2.6 min read.

The reaction of Tunisian Hatem Trabelsi, former defender for Ajax Amsterdam and Manchester City, and a beIN consultant for several years, to the CAF Appeal Jury's decision, widely shared on social media, goes beyond mere sports commentary. It subtly reveals the narrative tensions, divergent perceptions, and symbolic stakes surrounding Morocco's successes in African football today. In his statement, Hatem Trabelsi highlights a classic phenomenon in African competitions under the Confederation of African Football (CAF): suspicion and discredit. Whatever the outcome, Morocco's victory seemed destined for contestation. If Brahim Díaz had scored, some would have cried arbitral error; if the Moroccan win had been decisive, it would have been labeled a "setup"; arising from a regulatory decision after the opponent's withdrawal, it becomes "proof of corruption." This critical lens isn't based solely on facts, but on a structural distrust of African sports institutions and their governance. It's the daily sport of Africans: nothing is accepted without suspicion, without accusations of corruption. Even presidential elections rarely escape it. The controversy actually exposes the narrative fractures generated by any decision, even the fairest. Over the past decade, Morocco has established itself as a central player in continental football. The kingdom has massively invested in infrastructure, training, and sports diplomacy. The results speak for themselves: Historic semi-final at the FIFA World Cup 2022. Multiplication of youth category titles. Regular hosting of African competitions. Growing appeal to binational players, like Brahim Díaz and many others. Morocco did it for itself, while naively believing it was good to share the benefits with the continent. Did the continent really want it? This rise fits into a broader soft power strategy, where sport becomes a lever for regional and international influence. But Morocco, the new power in African football, disturbs. Its success breeds jealousy and contestation. Trabelsi's point underscores an observed reality: success invites contestation. In an African football landscape historically marked by fluctuating balances between Egypt, Cameroon, Nigeria, and Senegal, the emergence of a structured, high-performing Morocco has sparked resistance. The Moroccan national team embodies a new dominance, built on sporting talent as much as organizational rigor, a transformation aligned with the country's overall trajectory. This fuels suspicious discourse, especially when refereeing or administrative decisions seem to favor it, rightly or wrongly. In the background, the controversy points to a deeper issue: the CAF's credibility. Recurrent accusations of favoritism, "backroom deals," or opaque governance don't target just Morocco, but the entire system. It's the narrative cultivated by one or two African countries to which nothing succeeds. As the African is too often consigned to the role of perennial victim, this discourse finds fertile ground to impose itself as reality. In this context, every decision becomes controversial, amplified by social media, press, and statements from governments, federations, or opportunists seeking visibility. Victimization, a recurrent sentiment in Africa, turns the slightest incident, or any decision, into a prism of suspicion. Trabelsi's outburst isn't just support for Morocco; he himself knows the kingdom doesn't need it. It highlights a battle of narratives around contemporary African football: between sporting merit and political suspicions, national pride and regional solidarities. Morocco, the rising power, finds itself at the heart of these tensions. As often in sports history, success is measured not only in trophies, but in the ability to impose a legitimate narrative. The real challenge for African football isn't designating a winner, but restoring collective trust in the rules of the game. Beyond the match, a battle of narratives is underway, where institutional credibility is the Gordian knot. The bad faith of some is evident. In a barely veiled attempt to poison relations between two peoples bound by centuries of brotherhood, a certain gaucho-Parisian press has launched a sordid discredit campaign, exploiting the weakness of the Moroccan national narrative, not for lack of content or relevance, but for its naivety in believing that good faith always prevails. Recent history proves otherwise. Those who long tormented Morocco for reclaiming part of its territory are the same ones howling on their sets or blackening paper, fueling a narrative aimed at harming the kingdom and sowing doubt about everything it undertakes. This won't stop; preparation is needed, especially after the 2026 World Cup. This is how to interpret Trabelsi's just and inspired words: it's time to build a Moroccan national narrative on national soil, without waiting for others, from abroad, to impose it through hatred and discredit. Today, Morocco outpaces its closest neighbors, which bothers them, enrages them, even drives them mad. The truth is they're profound hypogiaphobes, dreading their responsibilities to their own peoples. As for the 2025 AFCON, in two months, no one will talk about it anymore. It will boil down to a second well-deserved star on the Moroccan jersey, a sign that the CAF has come to its senses and will now apply its own rules.