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Leïla Slimani: quand une parole pour plaire trahit, la réalité de tout un pays... 1564

Les récentes déclarations de l’écrivaine Leila Slimani, marocaine pour nous, Franco-marocaine pour les plateaux de télévision, ne sont pas du tout passées comme une lettre à la poste. Leïla Slimani a eu un propos tout particulièrement au sujet des femmes et des mères marocaines qui a suscité une vive controverse dépassant la simple divergence d’opinion. Leila était parmi les invités de l'émission "Tout le monde en parle". Une émission qui a survécu à son concepteur Thiery Ardisson, au Québec et pas en France. Les propos en question, perçus comme condescendants, déconnectés des réalités sociales et culturels du Maroc, ont profondément heurté de très nombreuses Marocaines. Notamment et en premier celles qui, comme elle, écrivent en français et s'abreuvent d'émissions culturelles en français. Elles ne lui ont pas passé les propos, loin de là. Beaucoup lui ont répondu. Certaines plus sèchement que d’autres. Elle en a reçu sur la gueule comme jamais dans sa vie. Les réactions sont posées, argumentées et sans ménagements même si gentiment débitées. Certaines sont de véritables leçons à l'adresse de quelqu'un qui a bien mérité un rappel à l'ordre et des plus puissants. Toutes lui rappellent que souvent bon nombre de mamans, contraintes par des conditions difficiles, ont élevé leurs enfants avec courage, dignité et un sens aigu des valeurs, et elles refusent aujourd’hui que leur engagement soit réduit à des clichés simplistes ou à des jugements à sens unique dont le seul but est de faire le buzz sur les plateaux de télévision. Sur les réseaux sociaux et dans les espaces publics, la réaction a été unanime et passionnée. Les femmes marocaines, du moins celles qui se sont exprimées, ont rejeté fermement la vision stéréotypée dont elles ont été victimes, dénonçant une posture parfois moralisatrice et occidentalisée qui ignore la complexité et la richesse de leur vécu. Leur rôle ne peut ni se réduire ni se caricaturer, car il est fondamental dans la construction de la société marocaine, elle-même en mutation mais profondément enracinée dans ses traditions, sa résilience et son identité propre. La phrase où Leila Slimani parle de la vengeance comme une valeur que les mamans enseigneraient à leurs enfants, les filles en particulier, ne passe pas et ne passera pas. Elle a avancé en exemple sa propre grand mère, absente pour la contredire... Cette expression est tout authentiquement inappropriée que fallacieuse. C'est plutôt le contraire qui est vrai : l'une des valeurs fondamentales de la société marocaine est justement le pardon. Le pardon est ici enseigné et vécu au quotidien dans le relationnel sociétal. La vie tourne autour du pardon. Le mot pardon en darija est prononcé des dizaines de fois par jour par tous ici. Lalla Leila, faut-il vraiment vous rappeler que la culture marocaine ne se nourrit pas de rancune et encre moins de vengeance, mais d’exigence : une exigence de respect et de nuance. Aujourd'hui, la société marocaine progresse, mais elle rejette fermement les jugements extérieurs imposés sans une connaissance approfondie du contexte local, qu'il soit cultuel ou culturel. En tant que figure publique représentant le Maroc sur la scène internationale, si vous le voulez bien, vous devriez faire preuve d’une plus grande prudence et d’empathie dans vos propos. Dire une vérité est une chose, l'inventer en est une autre, d'autant plus que la circonstance n'était point une fiction mais bien une émission grand public. Cette polémique met en lumière une fracture symbolique persistante entre une certaine élite installée à l’étranger et le Maroc réel, celui qui vit, lutte et avance à son rythme certes mais avance très bien. Critiquer est légitime, remettre en cause est salutaire mais cela doit toujours se faire avec rigueur, responsabilité et surtout dans le respect. La parole publique ne doit jamais humilier ni infantiliser les femmes marocaines et encore moins dans leur rôle essentiel et vital : celui d'élever les nouvelles générations. Le Maroc ne se fige pas dans des stéréotypes. Les femmes marocaines, qu’elles soient avocates, entrepreneures, enseignantes, artistes, ouvrières, artisanes ou mères au foyer, mènent chaque jour, dans l’ombre des combats essentiels, fondés sur une force tranquille digne d’admiration. Leur modernité est un processus intérieur, patient et authentique, qui n’a rien à envier aux discours importés. Leur devenir est entre leurs mains et ne se fera pas au gré de paroles prononcées ici ou là dans le seul but d'épater une assistance avide d'orientalisme primaire. Au-delà, cette affaire révèle plus largement la difficulté que rencontrent certains Marocains et Marocaines de la diaspora à concilier distance et sensibilité vis-à-vis de leur pays d’origine. C’est d’un pont qu’avait besoin ce dialogue, fondé sur une écoute sincère et un partage respectueux des expériences. À travers cette maladresse, Leïla Slimani a montré combien une parole déconnectée peut blesser profondément, surtout lorsqu’elle émane de l’une des nôtres. Et si l'expression prononcée par Leïla Slimani ne faisait que traduire son ressenti personnel et peut être un désir de vengeance refoulé en relation avec son passé familial. Son papa, le défunt Othmane Slimani, éminent économiste, après avoir été ministre et patron de banque, avait connu une véritable descente aux enfers, accusé de malversations. Il succombera à un cancer des poumons avant la fin du processus judiciaire, ayant fait appel suite à un premier jugement le condamnant en première instance. Il faut reconnaître cependant au défunt que c'est sous sa présidence de la Fédération Royale Marocaine de Football que l'Équipe Nationale du Maroc de Football avait remporté l'unique titre africain qu'elle détient à ce jour. C'était en 1976. Les marocains n'ont jamais oublié cette épopée et en remercie toujours Si Slimani, le sélectionneur Mehdi Belmejdoub, l'entraineur Mardarescu et les joueurs de l'époque avec à leur tête Ahmed Faras. Madame Slimani, qui mérite le respect pour ce qu'elle est, doit simplement intégrer que le Maroc ne réclame pas de leçons, mais une compréhension véritable et un dialogue respectueux pour accompagner sa transformation et les grands progrès engrangés. Le fait de colporter des inepties et des idées qui ne collent ni à son histoire, ni aux valeurs de ses citoyens et encore moins à celles de ses femmes, n'honore pas une écrivaine qui aspire à marquer l'histoire. Beaucoup avant elle ont tenté le même cheminement dans leur quête de vouloir être plus royalistes que le roi; jamais personne n'a réussi. Le Maroc, on peut le quitter, mais lui ne nous quitte jamais, et c'est pour cela qu'il faut le respecter. le Maroc c'est surement bien manger, bien boire mais pas se venger. C'est là ma réponse à Leila Slimani au nom de ma mère, de ma grand-mère et de toutes les mères et grands-mères, si elles me le permettaient...
Aziz Daouda Aziz Daouda

Aziz Daouda

Directeur Technique et du Développement de la Confédération Africaine d'Athlétisme. Passionné du Maroc, passionné d'Afrique. Concerné par ce qui se passe, formulant mon point de vue quand j'en ai un. Humaniste, j'essaye de l'être, humain je veux l'être. Mon histoire est intimement liée à l'athlétisme marocain et mondial. J'ai eu le privilège de participer à la gloire de mon pays .


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Light Pollution and the End of the Construction of Imagination – Part 2 265

Well, as I said in the previous article, I grew up and became a scientist. Not an astronomer, but a biologist. A biologist passionate about the stars. And many may ask: why didn’t you study astronomy? There are three reasons for that. The first is that I love biology. The second is that I was never good at mathematics. And the third is that I discovered that astronomers nowadays barely look at the sky. Telescopes work automatically, providing data to be analyzed later. That romantic astronomy of the past no longer exists. It was almost poetic, because imagination was the fuel for those scientists. Therefore, in cases like mine, it is much better to remain an amateur. This reminds me of a curious anecdote in which the writer Isaac Asimov is said to have refused an invitation to visit a factory where robots performed tasks on assembly lines, because he did not want to compromise his imagination. Returning to my story, when I was 21 years old, my father surprised me by taking me to a well-known store and buying a telescope. It was a relatively simple instrument, with a 60 mm aperture, but it allowed me to see the surface of the Moon perfectly, as well as Jupiter’s four largest moons and even Saturn’s rings. I don’t even need to say how I felt, do I? I became a child again! And that telescope is still here with me today, 30 years later. But here comes the bad part, which gives these two articles their title… Light pollution has reached extremely high levels, to the point that in large cities, when you look at the sky, you see very few stars, only the brightest ones. City lights have erased the night sky. What child today will look up at the sky and be enchanted by all that immensity? Who will feel themselves on the shores of the cosmic ocean, as Carl Sagan said in the first episode of the classic series Cosmos? How will imagination be built? In the same way, the inspiration of many poets and artists will be compromised. A child today, upon hearing stories of a time when the sky was filled with shining stars, might think that either the batteries ran out and no one replaced them, or that the bulbs burned out and no one changed them. It is still a child using their imagination, but without having experienced one of the most beautiful spectacles of creation. That spectacle is still there, happening, and it will continue to happen for a very, very long time. Or rather, as long as time exists, it will continue, but with a curtain separating the stage from the audience. Today there are movements and campaigns aimed at solving this issue, but I believe it is a great challenge to overcome. Until then, one alternative is to leave large urban centers and seek regions far away, at least 50 km from these cities, where one can truly enjoy the magical view of a clear and genuinely dark sky. I always wish clear skies to everyone, and ad astra!

CAF Sanctions: Disciplinary Justice with Variable Geometry? 475

The decisions by the Confederation of African Football (CAF) Disciplinary Commission regarding the incidents that marred the CAN final between Senegal and Morocco are now known. They were awaited, scrutinized, sometimes feared. But beyond their mere announcement, it is their **coherence, proportionality, and equity** that raise questions today. At first glance, the CAF sought to strike hard, giving the impression of sanctioning both parties to preserve a posture of balance. The CAF simply forgot that at its core, the conflict was squarely between Senegal and the referee, not with the Moroccan team, and thus, in the end, pitted Senegal against this very same CAF, responsible for the organization and officiating. Senegal and Morocco have thus, according to the commission's logic, presided over by a Senegalese, let us recall, been sanctioned to varying degrees. Yet, a close reading of the facts, confronted with the very content of the decisions rendered, reveals an **asymmetry that is hard to justify** between the severity of the acts observed and the weight of the sanctions imposed. The ridiculous is not far off. The central problem, namely, the officiating, has simply been swept aside. The most troubling element undoubtedly lies in the **total absence of any reference to the referee** in the Commission's ruling. As if he had never existed. Yet, the images and testimonies align: in the final moments, the referee displayed **manifest irresponsibility**. How can one justify resuming play when the minimum safety conditions were clearly not met? The stadium had been invaded by official Senegalese supporters, equipment had been vandalized, and tensions were at a boiling point. In such circumstances, the rules are clear: absolute priority must be given to the safety of players, officials, and the public. By ignoring this dimension, the Disciplinary Commission misses an **essential link in the chain of responsibilities**. They are, however, clearly identified. This is not to fully exonerate the Moroccan side. Reprehensible behaviors existed, and some hot-headed reactions could have been avoided. But the nature and gravity of these acts remain **incommensurable** with those attributable to the Senegalese delegation and its immediate environment. The most striking example remains the sanction imposed on Achraf Hakimi. Reproaching him for attempting to remove a towel belonging to the Senegalese goalkeeper—an object that, incidentally, had no business on the pitch—smacks more of a **search for artificial balance** than rigorous application of disciplinary principles. Can one seriously equate this gesture with outbursts involving pitch invasions and infrastructure damage? This harms the image of world football, beyond just African football. The inclusion of such an amalgam in the dossier and the proportionality of the sanctions are manifestly debatable. It is precisely on the terrain of proportionality that the CAF's decision falters. The sanctions imposed on the Moroccan camp appear **relatively heavy** given the facts reproached to them, especially when compared to those concerning the Senegalese side, which was linked to structurally far graver incidents. This disproportion undermines the narrative of those in Senegal and elsewhere who decried Morocco's supposed "stranglehold" on CAF bodies. If such influence truly existed, how to explain that Morocco itself ends up heavily sanctioned? Where is this alleged institutional protection when the disciplinary decisions, on the contrary, seem applied with particular rigor against it? One can only regret the missed opportunity for the CAF to show a new face of power and justice. The CAF Disciplinary Commission squandered a precious chance: to **clarify responsibilities, reaffirm the central role of officiating, and lay credible foundations** for managing crises in African competitions. By opting for punitive symmetry rather than a fine analysis of the facts, it perpetuates unease, fuels suspicions, and leaves the game's actors—players, officials, and fans, in a gray zone where perceived injustice becomes more damaging than the sanction itself. African football deserves better than disciplinary justice with variable geometry. It deserves an authority capable of owning its choices, naming responsibilities where they truly lie, and protecting the essentials: the integrity of the game and the safety of those who bring it to life. Today, some chuckle under their breath for escaping truly proportional sanctions for their misdeeds; others are stunned; still others conclude the immaturity of this African body, like other continental instances. A pitiful image for a continent whose youth aspires to development and a bright future, with football and footballers as role models. Has African football missed the chance to set an example? Did the CAF issue the wrong communiqué or target the wrong match? In any case, there is one clear winner slipping under the radar: the party at the origin of it all. Like a fugitive, the commission released its statement at an impossible hour... Funny, no? One wonders whether to hold out hope and pursue the process further, or resign oneself to admitting there is no hope for a just and credible African football body.

Najib Salmi, a Conscience Fades, a Legacy Endures 484

Najib Salmi has passed away, and with him closes one of the most beautiful chapters of Moroccan sports journalism. But beyond the collective tribute, it's also an intimate page of my own life as a columnist, colleague, and friend that turns. He leaves behind an immense professional legacy and, above all, an indelible human imprint. He was undoubtedly the greatest pen in Moroccan sports for decades. For over forty years, Najib Salmi embodied a certain idea of sports journalism, one that was demanding and responsible. In fact, he founded a school of sports journalism, having stumbled into it somewhat by chance and grown to love it. A central figure at the daily *L’Opinion*, where he directed the sports page, he marked generations of readers, especially through his cult column "Les points sur les i" (*Dotting the i's*), a rare space where freedom of tone blended with intellectual rigor and a sense of the public interest. He was an institution in himself. He belonged to that generation for which sports journalism was neither empty entertainment nor a echo chamber for blind passions, but an act of public service. At a time when Moroccan sports was entering the era of professionalization, money, and excessive media coverage, his pen knew how to denounce excesses, pinpoint responsibilities, and salute, with the same honesty, real progress and achievements when they were genuine. Najib Salmi was not just a great columnist; he was also a builder. At the helm of the Moroccan Association of Sports Press from 1993 to 2009, he fought for the profession's recognition, the defense of its ethics, and the dignity of those who practice it. He helped embed Moroccan sports journalism in regional and international bodies, earning credibility through seriousness and consistency. Wasn't it at a congress he organized in Marrakech that our friend Gianni Merlo was elected president of AIPS? Wasn't it he alone who headlined young prodigy Said Aouita after he set a new national 1500m record? He rightly predicted that Aouita would go far. He was the unwavering supporter of generations of great athletes. He attended every world championship and Olympic Games. He supported me too, with strength and determination. A man of principles, discreet but inflexible on essentials, he believed that respect for the reader and the truthfulness of information were non-negotiable. This moral uprightness, rare in an environment often subject to pressures and interests, earned him recognition from his peers as a true school of sports journalism. Abdellatif Semlali, the legendary Minister of Youth and Sports and his friend, delighted in calling him "Monsieur à côté" (*The Man on the Side*). He truly was. He never fit anyone else's mold, even during a brief stint at *Le Matin du Sahara*, then masterfully directed by Moulay Ahmed Alaoui. For me, Najib Salmi was more than a professional reference; he was a friend, a brother, and a mentor. It was thanks to his trust that I was able to write for years in *L’Opinion*'s sports pages, learning the craft day by day, line by line, under his attentive and benevolent gaze, enduring his mood swings and, above all, his corrections to style and syntax. He passed on to me more than writing techniques: a vision of what a column should be, rooted in integrity, thorough groundwork, and a rejection of shortcuts. Even today, if I continue to write, it's also because that inner voice he helped instill remains, the one that reminds us not to betray sport, the reader, or the truth. Najib Salmi passed away at the age of 78, after a long battle with illness, leaving an immense void in the newsrooms of *L’Opinion* and *Challenge*, to which he contributed with strength and diligence. He leaves a huge void in the hearts of all who crossed his path. He will rest in the Chouhada Cemetery in Rabat, where he himself had accompanied so many other friends, acquaintances, loved ones, and colleagues, and many who grew up under the benevolent shadow of his pen. May God welcome him in His mercy. To the friend, the brother, the master who showed me the way, I can say only one thing: thank you, Najib, for the delightful moments shared, for the words, the lessons, and the example. Readers will miss Najib Salmi; the family, the inner circle, and I will bury Said Hejaj. Said Hejaj departs peacefully to rest. Najib Salmi will live on in history.