Think Forward.

Les régimes militaires : promesses révolutionnaires, désillusions nationales certaines... 1341

Aziz Daouda, 3 mon.
Depuis les indépendances du milieu du XXᵉ siècle, une large partie du monde en développement a été traversée par la tentation militaire. En Afrique, en Amérique latine ou en Asie, les armées, souvent les seules institutions *organisées, hiérarchisées et disciplinées*, à la suite du départ des colonisateurs, ont pris le pouvoir au nom de la stabilité, de la justice sociale ou de la révolution. Pourtant, l’histoire révèle que, derrière les slogans pompeux de « démocratique », «populaire » ou « révolutionnaire », ces régimes ont rarement laissé place à autre chose que la répression, la corruption, la stagnation et bien plus encore. Les lendemains d’indépendance ont vu certaines armées se positionner en sauveuses autoproclamées. Toutes n'ont laissé derrière elles que le KO, le sous-développement et la misère. Dans les années 1960 et 1970, l’Afrique nouvellement indépendante connaît une flambée de coups d’État militaires. Entre 1958 et 1980, plus de 60 putschs militaires sont recensés sur le continent. Certains leaders charismatiques des indépendances se sont vus dépossédés du pouvoir de la pire des façons. Au Ghana, Kwame Nkrumah, pionnier du panafricanisme, est renversé en 1966 par un coup d’État militaire. En 1968, Moussa Traoré dépose Modibo Keïta au Mali, mettant fin à un projet socialiste naissant. Ould Dadda de Mauritanie ne connaitra pas un meilleur sort. Plus tôt, c'était Patrice Lumumba qui subissait les pires atrocités. Le roi Farouk est poussé à la porte de l'Égypte. Kaddafi dépose le vieux Senoussi. Benbella subissait le dictat de Boumedienne. En Amérique latine, la même mécanique se répète : l’armée prétend « sauver la nation » du chaos. Au Brésil, le coup d’État de 1964 installe une dictature pour 21 ans sous le prétexte de combattre le communisme. Au Chili, le général Augusto Pinochet renverse en 1973 le président démocratiquement élu Salvador Allende, inaugurant un régime de terreur responsable de plusieurs milliers de morts et disparus. En Asie, la Birmanie illustre une domination militaire persistante. Depuis le coup d’État de 1962 du général Ne Win jusqu’à la junte née du putsch de février 2021, l’armée contrôle le pays, étouffant toute opposition et maintenant une pauvreté structurelle. Nombre de ces régimes militaires se sont enveloppés dans un vernis idéologique. Ils se sont dits « révolutionnaires », comme le régime de Thomas Sankara au Burkina Faso (1983-1987), ou « démocratiques et populaires », à l’image des régimes du Congo-Brazzaville ou de l’Éthiopie de Mengistu Haile Mariam (1974-1991). Mais cette promesse de transformation sociale a presque toujours débouché sur la confiscation du pouvoir. Les libertés civiles furent suspendues, les opposants emprisonnés ou éliminés, tandis que les économies nationales sombrèrent dans la gabegie et la prédation. La rhétorique des régimes « populaires, démocratiques et révolutionnaires » s'avère tout aussi mensongère qu'improductive, pour ne pas dire plus. Le Nigeria, avec ses six coups d’État entre 1966 et 1999, est emblématique de cette spirale. Les régimes successifs de Yakubu Gowon, Murtala Mohammed et Sani Abacha ont dilapidé les revenus pétroliers d’un des pays les plus riches d’Afrique. À la mort d’Abacha en 1998, le pays était exsangue : corruption généralisée, dette abyssale, répression politique. Malgré l'évidence, certains pays continuent à endurer ce genre de régime, avec une recrudescence ces derniers temps en Afrique occidentale et au Sahel. Il est difficile de porter un jugement sur ces régimes naissants. Attendons. Le temps nous dira. Ils promettent tous de remettre le pouvoir aux civiles après une période de transition. Souvent ils y gouttent au plaisir de la vie et s'y plaisent... Aujourd’hui, les États encore dominés par une junte militaire sont moins nombreux qu'avant en Afrique. L’Algérie demeure tout de même un exemple notable, vestige des régimes installés dans les années soixante. L’armée reste ici le véritable centre de pouvoir depuis l’indépendance en 1962. Officiellement dirigée par des civils, la réalité est différente, notamment depuis le coup de force de janvier 1992, qui interrompit un processus électoral et plongea le pays dans une guerre civile meurtrière. Près de 200 000 personnes y perdirent la vie, selon Amnesty International. Trente ans plus tard, malgré les apparences institutionnelles, la présidence d’Abdelmadjid Tebboune (depuis 2019) reste sous étroite influence militaire. Il est toujours flanqué du général chef des armées. Le mouvement du Hirak, né en 2019, avait dénoncé ce système opaque décrit comme un « pouvoir militaire sans uniforme ». Aujourd'hui, la situation ayant conduit au Hirak ne s'est pas améliorée : l’économie, dépendante du pétrole, s’enlise, tandis que la jeunesse s'exile massivement. Les illusions sont encore une fois perdues. Le dinar dégringole alors que le pays dépend de l'importation pour ses besoins primaires. Les régimes se prétendant « du peuple » ont souvent retourné leurs armes contre ce même peuple. Des pays riches en ressources comme le Nigeria, le Congo, le Soudan, la Libye, l'Algérie ou la Birmanie, pour ne citer que quelques exemples, sont devenus des laboratoires de la désillusion. Les massacres, abus et dilapidation des richesses laissent toujours des cicatrices profondes. La tendance mondiale, marquée par la disparition des régimes militaires, n'est pas pour plaire à tout le monde, notamment aux armées dans certaines régions, quitte à plonger le pays dans le KO. Le cas du Soudan donne des signaux très alarmants. C'est alors qu'une leçon s’impose : aucune dictature en uniforme n’a réussi à bâtir durablement la prospérité ou la paix, nul part. L’histoire des régimes militaires est celle d’une promesse trahie. Derrière le discours du redressement national, de la défense des intérêts du pays, ces pouvoirs ont produit la peur, l’appauvrissement et le désenchantement. L’armée, censée protéger la nation, l’a souvent tenue en otage. Là où elle persiste encore à s'accaparer le pouvoir, elle incarne surtout les dernières résistances d’un modèle condamné par l’histoire. À bon entendeur, salut !
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 85

Julius Melien, 4 h.
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? 336

Aziz Daouda, 12 h.
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 346

Aziz Daouda, 13 h.
- History - Society - Sports -
2.4 min read.
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.

From Passion to Meaning: The CAN as a Test of Truth for Africanity... 347

Aziz Daouda, 13 h.
The Royal Cabinet's communiqué, published on January 22, 2026, following the CAN 2025 brilliantly hosted by Morocco, combines a call for calm after the Senegalese withdrawal episode with a celebration of an organizational success hailed across Africa and beyond. Through a measured and forward-looking tone, it transforms a sports tension into a demonstration of responsible continental leadership, faithful to a long-term vision for a united and prosperous Africa. Through the tone and content of the royal message, we understand that once the passion subsides, inter-African fraternity will naturally prevail: Morocco's success is also Africa's success. The CAN 2025 confirmed Morocco's ability to turn a continental tournament into a lever for development and influence. The smooth organization, modernized infrastructure, massive influx of supporters, and revitalization of key sectors such as tourism, transport, commerce, and services generated billions of dirhams in returns and around 100,000 direct and indirect jobs, with over 3,000 companies mobilized and some 500,000 supporters transported by Royal Air Maroc. The royal message places this success within a broader trajectory: that of a "great African country" which, in twenty-four months, has gained the equivalent of a decade of development in infrastructure and expertise, in service of its people and its continent. Without overlooking the "unfortunate" nature of the incidents in the Morocco-Senegal final, the communiqué opts for elevation over controversy. By recalling that once the passion has calmed, "inter-African fraternity will naturally prevail," it offers a mature reading of collective emotions and emphasizes that the Moroccan people "know how to put things in perspective" and reject resentment. The sports defeat thus turns into a symbolic and diplomatic victory: "hostile designs" and denigration are neutralized by strategic consistency, self-confidence, and the Kingdom's African anchoring. The Moroccan public in the stadium witnessed a grotesque tragedy, deliberately and premeditatedly staged, but was not fooled. They quickly understood, kept their calm and composure despite being deeply wounded. A noted and remarkable behavior that honors them and honors the Kingdom. In practice, as in history, Morocco-Senegal relations are imbued with a consolidated fraternity, strengthened on every occasion. The royal message thus takes on particular significance toward this brother country, with which relations are described as "exceptional and strategic," founded on shared memory, assumed African solidarity, deep religious fraternity, and strong economic convergences. The holding, on January 26 and 27 in Rabat, of the 15th Morocco-Senegal Joint High Commission, accompanied by an economic forum, gives concrete content to this resilient fraternity by relaunching investments, joint projects, and South-South cooperation in service of the two peoples and, by extension, all those in the region. Beyond the finalists, the communiqué addresses all African peoples by recalling that "nothing can alter the proximity cultivated over centuries" nor the "fruitful cooperation" forged with countries on the continent. It situates the CAN 2025 within a long-term strategy: capitalizing on intangible capital made of trust, visibility, and credibility, and using it as a springboard toward upcoming events, notably the 2030 World Cup, in an Africa that assumes its place on the world stage, seeks to establish it through continuity, and consolidate it. In this spirit, it is essential to reject deviations, racism, hate speech, media or ideological manipulations, from tarnishing our Africanity or denying its profound dignity. Being African means first sharing a geography, a history, cultures, struggles, and a common destiny, beyond borders, sports results, or political contingencies. We are not condemned to reproduce stupidity and hostility; on the contrary, we have the collective responsibility to make public space a place of encounter, listening, and fraternization, where intelligence, unconditional respect for human dignity, and curiosity about the other prevail over insult and stigmatization. In the straight line of the royal message, this CAN must remain a reminder: our African future will not be built in hatred or by imitating the worst reflexes, but in the ability to transform tensions into learning, competitions into bridges, and disagreements into opportunities for dialogue. We are Africans, together, through memory and through the future, and it is this shared consciousness that can make our stadiums, our cities, and our debates spaces of elevation rather than scenes of division. Attempts at destabilization orchestrated by some may, at best, cloud the horizon for the duration of a competition, but they cannot sustainably embed themselves in the consciousness of peoples. As facts emerge, they turn against their authors, now exposed to the world's gaze, unable to indefinitely mask their failures, the poverty of their mindset, and the pettiness of their designs. Where manipulation exhausts itself, truth always ends up prevailing, and with it the dignity of nations that bet on construction, fraternity, and the future rather than on intrigue and division.

African Football’s Leading Force: The Moroccan Model Amidst Regional Headwinds 554

Imad Khater, 2 d.
The curtain fell on AFCON 2025, leaving a trail of striking contrasts. While the event confirmed the Kingdom’s supremacy as a world-class logistical hub, the tensions witnessed during the final on January 18, 2026, in Rabat, served as a stark reminder of the contingencies still weighing on continental football. Between the seamlessness of the infrastructure and the archaic nature of certain disciplinary attitudes, a fundamental question emerges: how will the transition from CAF’s regulatory framework to that of FIFA in 2030 reshape the management of these organic crises? This shift represents more than a mere scaling up; it is a true paradigmatic rupture where technocratic neutrality will serve to sanctify Moroccan excellence. I. Moroccan Excellence: A Technological Showcase for Africa The massive investment deployed by the Kingdom—ranging from the deep modernization of sports complexes to the systemic integration of VAR—presented the world with the image of a modern, rigorous, and visionary Morocco. This material success, lauded by international observers, aimed to establish an African benchmark. However, this pursuit of perfection encountered a persistent psychological phenomenon: the "host country complex." In this configuration, organizational mastery is sometimes perceived by competitors not as shared progress, but as a lever of dominance, mechanically fueling theories of favoritism. The events of the final illustrate this at its peak. The disallowed goal for Ismaïla Sarr and the late-match penalty became, through the lens of regional suspicion, instruments of controversy rather than technically grounded officiating decisions. Yet, data from DM Sport reveals the opposite: Morocco was among the most penalized teams in the tournament. This discrepancy highlights a major flaw: technology is insufficient to validate a result unless it is protected by a jurisdictional authority perceived as exogenous. II. Solidary Leadership and the Diplomacy of Resentment It would be erroneous, however, to view this quest for excellence as a desire for isolation. On the contrary, Morocco maintains deep and unwavering historical ties with the majority of its sister nations across the continent. Faithful to its African roots, the Kingdom continues to actively promote continental football within CAF, offering its infrastructure and expertise to federations seeking professionalization. This "open-hand" policy ensures that Moroccan success translates into success for all of Africa. Nevertheless, such leadership breeds friction. A "diplomacy of resentment" has emerged from certain foreign media spheres—particularly in specific Arab and African countries—aiming to tarnish the prestige of the Moroccan organization. By framing Morocco as a favored "ogre," these narratives attempt to transform factual superiority into moral injustice. This media harassment specifically targets the emergence of a governance model that now aligns with the most demanding global standards. III. The Advent of "Cold Justice": Legal Sanctification The transition to FIFA’s aegis in 2030 will signal the end of the geographical proximity that fosters such smear campaigns. Unlike the continental framework, the globalization of officiating bodies will dismantle zonal rivalries. Where CAF must often navigate between diplomatic compromise and sporting imperatives, FIFA deploys a "cold justice"—purely procedural in nature. The chaos observed in Rabat would meet a surgical response in 2030. Article 10 of the FIFA Disciplinary Code is unequivocal: any refusal to resume play results in an automatic forfeit and severe sanctions. In 2030, the rule of law will act as a protective cleaver for the host, rendering victimhood narratives obsolete. IV. Technology and the "2030 Bloc": Toward an Indisputable Truth The 2030 edition, spearheaded by the Morocco-Spain-Portugal trio, will benefit from total judgment automation (Shadow VAR, semi-automated offside) and absolute transparency. The FIFA Hosting Agreement will prevail as a superior norm, guaranteeing impartiality. This legal framework will serve as a shield, preventing disciplinary incidents from being politically instrumentalized against the Kingdom. AFCON 2025 was a successful demonstration of organizational strength for Morocco, confirming its role as the driving force of African football. However, it also revealed that excellence remains vulnerable to peripheral noise. In 2030, the definitive anchoring in FIFA law will allow the Kingdom to transform its organizational prowess into a lasting institutional legacy. Sport, finally shielded from geopolitical dross, will align with the strategic vision of a Morocco turned toward the universal, making the rule of law the bedrock of its global legitimacy.