Think Forward.

Politics

The French prime minister in Rabat: Culmination of a relationship being redefined? 424

Aziz Daouda, 2 d.
On 15–16 July, France's prime minister, Sébastien Lecornu, will make his first official trip abroad since his appointment when he visits Rabat. It is important to stress that this is his first trip overseas. Until Emmanuel Macron, every newly inaugurated French president began their term with a visit to Rabat; Macron is today the sole exception. This first visit, even if it comes ten years later, can be seen as a corrective to what should not have happened. Accompanied by a large ministerial delegation, he will meet with Prime Minister Aziz Akhannouch and many other senior officials of the Kingdom. Marked by the signing of several cooperation agreements, the visit underscores both countries’ desire to place their partnership on a new footing. To understand the significance of the trip, one must go back several centuries. Relations between Morocco and France did not begin with the 1912 protectorate. They trace their roots to the first diplomatic contacts between the Moroccan and French monarchies in the 16th century. Rulers of the two kingdoms already exchanged commercially and diplomatically, driven by economic interests as well as the broader geopolitical balances of the Mediterranean. Under Moulay Ismaïl and Louis XIV the relationship became more structured. Moroccan ambassadors were received at Versailles and Meknes, while commercial exchanges developed. Despite periods of tension, the two monarchies learned to know and cooperate with one another. The protectorate established in 1912 opened a more complex chapter. The weakening of the Sharifian Empire — which had missed the industrial revolution — combined, of course, with European colonial ambitions, was the main cause. France contributed to the modernization of part of Morocco’s infrastructure, administration and economy, but this period also represented a colonial domination against which Moroccans fought in a unique solidarity, with both the people and their monarch on the same side, until Mohammed V’s return from exile and the Kingdom’s independence in 1956. Independence did not sever the ties, however. On the contrary, under Mohammed V and then Hassan II, the two states built a privileged relationship based on common interests. Morocco never fell into any kind of hatred and never turned the 44 years of the protectorate into a permanent grievance. And yet the Kingdom had reasons to do so. That chapter of history had serious consequences for the country’s territorial integrity. Its geography, and more than that, remains affected today. At independence, France became the primary economic partner, a major investor and a favored destination for hundreds of thousands of Moroccans. University, cultural, security and military cooperation took on exceptional dimensions. With the accession to the throne of His Majesty King Mohammed VI, the relationship gradually evolved toward a more balanced partnership. Morocco asserted diplomatic sovereignty and diversified its alliances worldwide while maintaining close ties with Paris. In recent years, with the arrival of French leaders — notably from the left or linked to parties sometimes influenced by an anti-monarchy press and not always familiar with the Kingdom — relations experienced many turbulences: diplomatic misunderstandings, visa issues, and divergences over the Western Sahara file. But the two capitals progressively chose dialogue and pragmatism. The turning point came when France indicated that it saw the Sahara’s future only within the sovereignty of the Kingdom, opening a new phase in bilateral relations. Since then, political exchanges have accelerated dramatically, official visits have multiplied, and cooperation in security, economic, energy and industrial fields has gained fresh momentum. Sébastien Lecornu’s visit fits precisely within that logic. It is not only intended to consolidate gains but also to prepare a new stage of the partnership. The stakes include investment, industry, infrastructure, the energy transition, security, artificial intelligence, transport, migration management and cooperation in Africa. It is also clear that the visit paves the way for the historic state visit of His Majesty the King to France. Today Morocco appears as an indispensable partner for France on the African continent and in the Mediterranean space. For its part, France remains a leading economic and technological actor to support the Kingdom’s ambitions. Beyond the diplomatic rapprochement, economic exchanges attest to the strength of ties between the two countries. In 2024, bilateral trade in goods between Morocco and France exceeded €15 billion, making France the Kingdom’s second trading partner after Spain, accounting for nearly 21% of Morocco’s trade with the European Union. Moroccan exports to France are mainly vehicles and automotive components, electrical equipment, agricultural and agri-food products, textiles and clothing, and aeronautical products. Conversely, France exports industrial equipment, transport equipment, pharmaceuticals, capital goods, chemicals and high-value technologies to Morocco. Notably, the trade balance in goods is now slightly in surplus for Morocco (€1.2 billion), illustrating the rise of its industrial base and export capacities. Beyond trade, France remains one of the largest foreign investors in Morocco, while Moroccan companies are progressively strengthening their presence on the French market, confirming the shift toward a more balanced economic partnership. The history of Franco‑Moroccan relations shows that they have always been able to weather crises without ever breaking off. They have adapted to world changes, moving from a relationship between monarchies to a relationship between two sovereign states bound by history, exceptional human proximity and converging strategic interests. The French prime minister’s visit to Rabat is thus far more than a diplomatic episode. It symbolizes the will to build a renewed relationship, founded on mutual respect, shared interests and a common vision of the challenges of the 21st century.

Benguerir in 2045: How UM6P Turned Morocco into a Global Innovation Powerhouse 1010

Aziz Daouda, 5 d.
- Politics - Science - Society -
2.7 min read.
Last night I had a dream. A wonderful dream. It is 2045: the center of gravity for innovation has shifted. It has moved to the Kingdom of Morocco, an exceptional North African country. When CEOs of multinationals, tech investors and government officials try to understand the new dynamics of the global innovation economy, one name keeps coming up: Benguerir, Morocco. Less than two hours from Casablanca and about an hour from Marrakech, linked to both by an ultra‑fast train, this medium‑sized town — once a bus stop where travelers stopped for skewers and mint tea — became in twenty years one of the planet’s major technology hubs. Even more surprising: by 2045 it is regarded as the leading innovation ecosystem on the African continent. At the heart of this transformation sits Mohammed VI Polytechnic University (UM6P), an institution envisioned by King Mohammed VI himself. This success did not spring from a single public program or from traditional industrial policy. It resulted from an ambitious strategy: to make the university the central engine of Morocco’s economic, technological and entrepreneurial development. The era of infrastructure is over For decades many countries tried to reproduce Silicon Valley by pouring money into technoparks, industrial zones or incubators. Most failed. UM6P understood early on: innovation does not arise primarily from buildings. It arises from interactions. The most successful ecosystems rest on an exceptional density of relationships between researchers, entrepreneurs, investors, large firms and public decision‑makers. Silicon Valley is above all a concentration of interconnected talent. The designers of Benguerir 2045 grasped this reality. After hurrying to build a real tech park, they created an environment where the boundaries between university, business and market gradually disappeared. The entrepreneurial university as an economic model The first revolution was cultural. From the mid‑2020s, UM6P — never intended as a conventional university that separates teaching, research and economic activity — implemented several measures: - Researchers were encouraged to found companies. - PhD students received training in entrepreneurship. - Students were allowed to replace some academic projects with startup creations. And naturally, by 2045: - Over 40% of tenured faculty hold equity in at least one innovative company. - Nearly one student in five starts a company before graduating. This permeability between research and market accelerated the conversion of scientific discoveries into commercialized innovations. The reform that changed the game The real turning point was institutional. From 2027, following the September 2026 elections, Morocco enacted a series of reforms fully integrating its economy into global flows of capital, knowledge and talent: - Progressive removal of administrative barriers to international investment. - Simplification of financial transfers. - Modernization of the regulatory framework. In short, a favorable environment for innovation was established. For the first time, a startup created in Benguerir could raise funds in London, sell to Singapore, recruit in Nairobi and invest in Brazil with the same ease as an American or European company. Geography ceased to be a constraint. The market became global from day one. From an export economy to a creative economy Early‑21st‑century Morocco based its competitiveness on industrial exports, agriculture, phosphates and infrastructure. Morocco in 2045 rests on a different logic: value now derives primarily from intellectual property. Patents, software, algorithms, biotechnologies, advanced materials and digital platforms now account for a major share of generated wealth. The country is no longer merely a successful manufacturing site. It has become a place of design, a place where tomorrow’s world is imagined. Africa as the laboratory of the future UM6P chose not to copy Silicon Valley. It focused on Africa’s major challenges: - Water - Energy - Agriculture - Health - Education - Climate resilience - Mobility The innovations developed for Africa proved relevant to much of the world facing similar problems. Solutions imagined in Benguerir are now used in Latin America, South Asia and the Middle East. Global talent magnet By 2045: - More than a hundred nationalities are represented on the UM6P campus. - American researchers collaborate with Nigerian entrepreneurs. - Indian AI specialists work with Senegalese agronomists. - European investors finance startups founded by Moroccan students. This diversity became a strategic asset. Talent moves to where opportunities are greatest. Benguerir succeeded in becoming one of those places. Lessons for policymakers The Benguerir 2045 experience shows three conditions necessary to build a global innovation ecosystem: - Put the university at the center of national economic strategy. - Encourage free movement of ideas, talent and capital. - Create a culture that rewards experimentation more than conformity. The true engine of innovation remains the quality of human interactions. From periphery to center For a long time Africa was seen as a market of the future. In 2045, thanks to Benguerir’s initiatives, it has become a territory of creation. UM6P has shown that an African university can transform knowledge into companies, jobs, technologies and global influence. The nations that will dominate the 21st‑century economy will not be those with the largest natural resources, but those that succeed in turning knowledge into innovation and innovation into prosperity. And in that global competition, Morocco chose to start from its university to build its future. Silicon Valley pointed the way. Benguerir invented its own. 2045 is less than 20 years away… One of the professors mentioned above has even won the Nobel Prize… Let us dream.

Artificial intelligence: Morocco faces its rendezvous with History 1395

Aziz Daouda, 9 d.
- Politics - Science - Business -
2.3 min read.
History can be ruthless to nations that miss major technological turning points. Two centuries ago, the steam engine and the Industrial Revolution profoundly reshaped the global balance of power. The countries that still dominate the world economy today are, for the most part, those that quickly adopted industrial innovations, developed them, and turned them into instruments of economic, military and cultural power. By contrast, states that stayed outside that transformation gradually lost their strategic autonomy. The Sherifian Empire, like much of the non-Western world, suffered the consequences of this historical delay. The inability to fully enter the Industrial Revolution contributed to a progressive weakening that culminated in the establishment of a protectorate at the start of the 20th century. Today, history seems to be repeating itself in another form. Artificial intelligence, robotics, quantum computing and advanced technologies are producing a transformation as profound as that caused by the steam engine in the 19th century. A new global hierarchy is being built before our eyes. The United States, China, India, South Korea and Gulf countries are investing tens or even hundreds of billions of dollars in research, digital infrastructure and tech start-ups. Meanwhile, Morocco risks being content with the role of spectator. Yet the warning signs have been known for a long time. More than ten years ago, a decision was made to raise scientific research spending to 2% of the national budget. That ambition responded to a strategic necessity: to prepare the country for the technological challenges of the 21st century. It is, however, clear that this goal was never achieved. And in the current global competition, even a 2% effort now appears insufficient. Countries that want to be players in AI devote considerable resources to research, innovation and talent development. Morocco should probably aim for much more ambitious investment levels, closer to 5% of public spending, if it truly wants a place in the new knowledge economy. Perhaps most worrying is the silence in political debate. While the election campaign seems already underway, few political parties place scientific research, innovation or artificial intelligence at the heart of their national programs. Discussions often focus on daily urgencies, which are legitimate, but the question of technological sovereignty is largely absent from stated priorities. Populism and the mediocrity of some so-called politicians are far removed from this issue. Some would even like to take us back to the Stone Age. Yet the stakes far exceed mere economic modernization. This is about preserving the country’s strategic independence. Nations that master tomorrow’s technologies will control value chains, financial flows, defense systems, critical infrastructure and, increasingly, decision-making capabilities themselves. But financial investment alone will not be enough. Morocco must also undertake a deep reform of its regulatory environment. In a world where innovation is measured in milliseconds, and soon in nanoseconds, many Moroccan entrepreneurs still face long, complex and sometimes discouraging administrative procedures. Constraints tied to capital transfers, international payments, technology subscriptions, investment in digital platforms or participation in global innovation ecosystems often pose major obstacles. The regulatory framework inherited from another era must be rethought. Without abandoning the imperatives of control and transparency, it is essential to adapt the mechanisms of the foreign exchange authority to the realities of the global digital economy. When a young entrepreneur in Casablanca must wait for authorizations to access tools or international markets, while rivals in Bangalore, Shenzhen or Dubai operate in real time, the competitive handicap becomes obvious. The battle for artificial intelligence is not only technological; it is also administrative, regulatory and cultural. Morocco nevertheless has considerable assets: a talented youth, universities in transformation, recognized political stability and a privileged geographic position between Europe and Africa. But these assets will only yield results if supported by a clear national vision, massive investments and sustained political will. The appointment before us today is probably the most important since independence. The country already paid the price of technological delay two centuries ago. History rarely offers a second chance. The opportunity represented by artificial intelligence today must not be missed. Because in the world taking shape, nations that do not innovate will depend on those that do. And tomorrow’s technological dependence could become the most subtle, but also the most enduring, form of loss of sovereignty.

The real task for Morocco: rebuilding trust... 1580

Aziz Daouda, 10 d.
- Politics - Society -
3.1 min read.
As elections approach, debates often focus on economic growth, employment, investment, social protection or large infrastructure projects. All these subjects are essential. Yet behind each of them lies a more fundamental, deeper — and perhaps more urgent — question: that of trust. Populists, great masters of deceit, understand this very well. Their popularity and success are inversely proportional to the level of trust. They overplay and excel at the role of victim or at offering simple, easy solutions, thereby sowing doubt among citizens and eroding their trust capital. Nihilists also profit and add another layer. The citizen who doubts and loses confidence becomes an easy mark. Some politicians, through irresponsibility, naivety, incompetence or clumsiness, also contribute — by their narratives — to eroding the trust capital in the social project and, beyond that, in the institutions themselves. It is therefore legitimate today to ask the question with the utmost seriousness. The near and long‑term future of the country and of future generations is at stake. And yet Mohamed Ouahbi and his teammates offer us a new dynamic, a new value: self‑confidence, trust in who we are simply. How do you explain being so dominated for one half and then finding the resources to overcome the handicap, transform yourselves and score three times? What if the real task for Morocco in the coming years were simply that of trust? Trust is an invisible capital but one that is extremely essential. It does not appear in any budget and cannot be measured in kilometers or billions invested. Yet it constitutes the pillar of any collective success. Hakimi, Díaz, Talbi, Mazraoui, Bounou, Ounahi, Rahimi and the others demonstrated that to us. Without it, the best public policies produce limited results. With it, even the most complex challenges become surmountable. Today, it must be acknowledged that Moroccans primarily place their trust in the royal institution, which remains, for a large majority of citizens, the main anchor of stability, continuity and hope. This reality represents a considerable strength for the country. But what about trust in other institutions? Do citizens fully trust their health system? When families still have to turn to the private sector despite financial difficulties, the question deserves to be asked. Do they trust their education system? When many parents try by all means to enroll their children in private schools, sometimes at great sacrifice, this often reflects doubt about the public school’s ability to deliver the hoped‑for social mobility. Do they trust the judiciary, the administrations, political parties, local authorities, or certain local products? Again, answers are nuanced and vary according to individual experiences. It would be unfair and incorrect to generalize. Morocco has made remarkable, even exceptional, progress in many areas. Infrastructure has been modernized, public services are digitizing, social coverage is expanding, universities are multiplying, hospitals are developing and many civil servants carry out their duties with competence and dedication. But despite these advances, a diffuse feeling of mistrust remains present in part of society. Even the most optimistic citizens can sometimes doubt their future or that of their children, while no nation can sustainably build its development on distrust. Economic history shows this: successful countries are often those where citizens trust their institutions, their rules and their prospects for the future. The Nordic countries are a frequently cited example. High levels of trust in the state, schools, justice and public services encourage respect for rules, civic engagement and acceptance of reform. In Asia, countries like South Korea built their economic transformation not only on investment and education, but also on strong collective adherence to a shared national project. Conversely, when trust erodes the consequences are multiple: civic disengagement, electoral abstention, brain drain, an informal economy, corruption and retreat into individual survival strategies at the expense of the collective project. Trust creates and nurtures a sense of belonging. It makes people want to participate, to build, to invest, to share and to stay. A young person who believes in their country will be more inclined to develop their project there. An entrepreneur who trusts the institutions will invest more. A citizen who believes in the fairness of the system will more readily accept their fiscal and civic duties. The challenge is therefore immense. It is not merely a question of communicating more or multiplying slogans and lies, as some do. Trust is built through tangible results. It is built when public schools offer the same opportunities to all. It is built when public hospitals treat with efficiency and dignity. It is built when competence is rewarded and recognized. It is built when public services respond quickly to citizens’ needs. It is built when officials are held accountable and promises are kept. On the eve of the elections, political parties would do well to place this question at the heart of their platforms. Beyond sectoral promises, Moroccans expect a contract of trust. The real issue is not only which project will be presented to citizens. It is whether citizens will believe enough in that project to commit to it. Morocco has considerable assets: its monarchy, its stability, its youth, its geographic position, its infrastructure, its strategic vision and its international ambitions. But to turn these assets into lasting power, it must strengthen that invisible bond that ties citizens to their country. The task of rebuilding trust is surely the hardest of all. But it is also the most decisive. For when a people gains or regains confidence in themselves, in their institutions and in their future, they become capable of achieving what once seemed impossible. It is at that price that the Kingdom will recover its long‑dormant greatness. Thanks to our national team for reminding us that trust is the most precious capital.

"Send Them Back": the day the European Parliament applauded xenophobia... 1707

Aziz Daouda, 11 d.
- Politics - Society - Lifestyle -
2.5 min read.
There are sometimes images that alone sum up an era. That of Members of the European Parliament, elected to defend the founding values of the European Union, chanting in chorus "Send them back!" at the end of the vote authorising member states to expel migrants to centres located outside European territory will remain one of the most disturbing. This slogan, borrowed from the bluntest vocabulary of nationalist movements, goes far beyond the fight against illegal immigration. It does not only target people in an irregular situation. In the imagination of part of the European far right, it designates everyone unfortunate enough to be different: Africans, Arabs, Amazighs, Latinos, Muslims, refugees or simply foreigners. In a few words, a vision of Europe expresses itself: a closed, suspicious Europe obsessed with the purity of its borders. The worst thing is not that this rhetoric exists — it always has and will probably continue to exist. The worst thing is that it now finds an echo inside the European Parliament chamber, with the complicity of traditional right‑wing parties that, out of electoral opportunism, conviction or perhaps simple stupidity, choose to echo far‑right themes rather than fight them. Fine. "Send them back," they say. Let us therefore push this intellectual exercise to its conclusion. Send them all back. Send back the nurses who came from Africa and keep European hospitals running. Send back the care assistants who look after the growing number of elderly people, many of them impoverished. Send back the construction workers, bus drivers, cleaners, agricultural workers who harvest the fruits and vegetables. Send back the couriers who feed those many people unable to do their own shopping. Send back the engineers, doctors, researchers and students who enliven universities and hospitals. Send back the foreign entrepreneurs who create businesses and pay taxes. Send back the footballers and athletes who bring joy to young people and to nations. Send them all back, these "undesirables", and find elsewhere, on another planet, those who will make Europe run tomorrow. The demographic reality is merciless, members of Parliament. Europe is visibly ageing. Its fertility rate is below the generational replacement threshold in almost all countries. Former suppliers of labour and brains in Eastern Europe have become more prosperous; their inhabitants prefer to stay at home. The working population is shrinking while retirees are increasing. Health systems, pensions and public services already rely heavily on workers from immigration. All the major international institutions remind us: without immigration, large parts of the European economies will lack labour in the coming decades. Not only are migrants not an economic burden, but they are often part of the solution to the demographic — and therefore economic — crisis threatening the continent. The irony is striking: those whom some present as "undesirables" have precisely become indispensable to the daily functioning of your societies. Sending them back en masse would weaken hospitals, transport, agriculture, construction, catering and a multitude of already strained sectors. The human and economic consequences would be considerable, sometimes disastrous. Europe also seems to forget another historical truth. For centuries, Europeans left their continent by the millions to seek a better life elsewhere: to the Americas, Australia or Africa. More recently still, millions of Europeans emigrated to escape wars, dictatorships or poverty. Today, the continent that long produced migrants wants to forbid others from following the same path. This paradox reveals a troubling moral crisis. The European Union likes to recall that it is founded on human rights, dignity and solidarity. These principles should not disappear as soon as the subject is immigration. Controlling borders is a sovereign right. Fighting people‑smuggling networks is a necessity. Organising legal migration is essential. But turning human beings into scapegoats and echoing slogans of hatred is a political and ethical failure. When elected representatives applaud the cry "Send them back", they do not lower the people targeted. They surely demean the institution they represent. A democracy is judged by how it treats its minorities, its foreigners and the most vulnerable. If the European Parliament becomes a platform where xenophobia is applauded, then the very idea of Europe is in danger. Yes, send them back then... and then see who will treat your sick, build your housing, harvest your fruit, finance your pensions and keep an economy — already condemned by ageing to a shortage of labour — alive. On that day, Europe may discover that those it called "undesirables" had, in reality, become indispensable. And it may be too late to call them back. Their countries will also prosper sooner or later — as Ibn Khaldun reminded us.

Morocco return to GMT: a belated decision on an all-too-perfectly timed calendar 2030

Aziz Daouda, 13 d.
- Politics - Society - Business -
3.2 min read.
Morocco is about to close a chapter that was opened eight years ago. As of 20 September 2026, the Kingdom will definitively — perhaps — abandon the permanent GMT+1 time regime and return to its so‑called legal time: GMT. For many Moroccans, this announcement is a relief. But behind that satisfaction lies a political question worth asking: why wait until the end of the government’s term and, above all, why schedule this return only a few days before a decisive election? GMT was first decreed in 1913, before switching to GMT+1 in 1918. There were a few periodic changes, particularly during World War II, but it was in 1967 that the choice of GMT was definitively settled. In the era of the Sharifian Empire, there was no official time: each city set its clocks by the sun. Choosing GMT was political, but also an obvious geographical and astronomical decision. Days were organized in harmony with sunrise and sunset, a rhythm that structured economic, social and religious life. In 2008 Morocco reintroduced daylight saving time, which had already been tried before. The stated aim was to save energy and align the country’s hours more closely with Europe for part of the year. Moroccans gradually got used to the seasonal changes, despite recurring criticism. The real break, however, came in October 2018. By decree of Prime Minister Saadeddine El Othmani, adopted a few days before the usual clock change, the government decided to permanently maintain GMT+1, reverting to GMT only during the month of Ramadan. This decision, taken without genuine public debate or thorough consultation, permanently disrupted citizens’ daily lives. The justifications offered were familiar: improve economic competitiveness, facilitate exchanges with European partners and optimize administrative organization. But the negative effects quickly appeared. The government had simply forgotten to readjust public administration hours and school schedules in particular. It did not bother to measure the social consequences of the decision, nor to adjust certain daily rhythms. Millions of pupils now leave their homes before sunrise for several months of the year. Biological rhythms are disrupted. Families report chronic fatigue, especially among young children. Teachers, employees and many professionals mention adaptation difficulties that became permanent. Gradually, maintaining GMT+1 stopped being a mere technical issue and became a symbol of a decision imposed without popular support. That opposition never disappeared. Every year, as Ramadan approached and the ensuing clock adjustments resurfaced the debate, social networks rekindled the discussion. Petitions circulated, associations challenged the authorities. Even experts were far from unanimous about the real economic benefits of the measure. In other words, the government cannot reasonably claim to be discovering the extent of the rejection today. That is precisely what makes the current decision politically interesting. The return to GMT is not the result of a sudden revelation. It represents the culmination of a long-standing demand that the authorities had until now chosen to ignore. So the real question is no longer whether returning to GMT is a good decision — many would answer yes — but rather why this moment was chosen and why there is no objective assessment of the economic and social gains or losses since 2018. Legally, nothing is disputable. The government fully has the power to set the country’s legal time. The decree adopted in the Council of Government falls within the executive’s competences. But politics is never reducible to law. When a measure directly affects the daily lives of nearly forty million citizens, its timing also becomes a political act. It also impacts many economic sectors connected to Europe. 20 September 2026 falls squarely within an electoral period, just days before a highly anticipated legislative vote. Can we seriously believe such timing is purely coincidental? It is hard to ignore the symbolic force of a decision that precisely erases one of the reforms whose unpopularity was revived every Ramadan, at the moment when voters will head to the polls. Suspicion becomes inevitable. Three explanations can be advanced. The first is that of a belated correction. The government would have finally recognized that permanently maintaining GMT+1 was a political and social mistake that needed fixing before leaving office. The second rests on electoral calculation. By removing a daily source of irritation, the executive could be seeking to restore part of its sympathy capital at a time when every vote matters. The third is political messaging. Every government prefers to end its term with a popular decision rather than with the memory of a widely contested reform. These hypotheses are not mutually exclusive. It is perfectly possible that a government sincerely corrects a mistake while also choosing the moment when that correction will have the greatest political effect. It is precisely this ambiguity that fuels the debate. At bottom, the affair goes far beyond the mere question of clock hands: it raises questions about how governments make decisions and, above all, how they accept — or refuse — to acknowledge their mistakes. Why allow such widespread discontent to persist for eight years before responding? Why wait until the last days of a mandate to return to a solution that geography, history and a large part of public opinion considered the most natural? In politics, decisions count, but their timing often speaks as loudly as their content. The return to GMT will likely ease the daily lives of millions of Moroccans. It is probably a sensible decision. Yet the choice of timing leaves a lingering impression: that of a government waiting until the polls approached to listen to what citizens had been repeating, rightly or wrongly, for eight years. Official time may finally be back in step with Morocco. The question remains whether political time has not arrived a little too late. In any case, we are about to change the clocks without a genuine, measurable scientific assessment of the beneficial or harmful effects of the 2018 change.

What is going on with British democracy? 2250

Aziz Daouda, 15 d.
- Politics - Society -
3 min read.
Long presented as the model par excellence of modern parliamentarism, the United Kingdom today looks like a political system losing stability and possibly running out of steam. The recent resignation of the Prime Minister — the eighth in just ten years — raises a fundamental question: can a great power be governed effectively when leadership changes hands almost every year? For nearly two centuries, the Westminster model was held up as a universal reference. From London to Ottawa, from Canberra to New Delhi, and across many former colonies, British institutions inspired constitutions, electoral systems and parliamentary practices. The idea was simple: a government accountable to Parliament, an organized opposition, peaceful alternation and a remarkable continuity of the state. This model long worked because it rested on solid pillars: two major parties capable of governing over the long term, a powerful civil service, a constitutional monarchy above partisan quarrels, and a political culture favoring compromise rather than confrontation. Today, that architecture shows worrying cracks. Its functioning is running out of breath. Since the Brexit referendum in 2016, British political life has entered an almost permanent period of turbulence. Prime ministers have succeeded one another at an unprecedented rate: David Cameron, Theresa May, Boris Johnson, Liz Truss, Rishi Sunak, Keir Starmer — not to mention all others — and now another head of government soon to follow. Eight leaders in ten years: a number one would usually associate with an unstable democracy or a regime in crisis, certainly not with the world’s oldest parliamentary democracy. This instability is not only the result of elections. Most of these leaders were not removed by voters but by their own parties. The British prime minister depends above all on the confidence of their parliamentary majority. As soon as that confidence erodes, MPs mount an internal rebellion, change leader and, consequently, change the head of government without consulting the electorate. Constitutionally, the mechanism is perfectly legal. Democratically, however, it raises a fundamental question: how far can top leaders be replaced without asking citizens again, when the Constitution defines citizens as the true decision-makers? The case of Liz Truss in 2022 remains emblematic. A near-unique political anecdote — except perhaps for some recent developments in France and in different systems — she was elected leader of the Conservative Party and lasted only forty-nine days, forced to resign after markets lost confidence. Her successor, Rishi Sunak, came to power without a general election. And now the scenario seems to be repeating. This volatility has concrete consequences. Every new prime minister arrives with a team, priorities, promises and sometimes a vision radically different from their predecessor. Reforms are launched then abandoned. Economic strategies shift. international partners struggle to identify a durable policy line. Investors hesitate in the face of such unpredictability. Can long-term public policies be pursued when governments live in a perpetual campaign? The energy transition, modernization of the health system, immigration reform and economic recovery require constancy and rock-solid stability. Yet that stability is increasingly hypothetical. The paradox is striking. Defenders of the British system see in this ability to replace a leader quickly proof of its vitality: an unpopular or ineffective prime minister can be removed without causing a major institutional crisis. The system would thus correct its own mistakes. One can also see it as a symptom of a democracy hijacked by party machines. Voters choose a program and a leader; months later they sometimes discover another prime minister, with another orientation, without having been consulted. The crisis goes beyond personalities. It reveals a deep transformation of British politics: party fragmentation, the rise of populisms, loss of confidence in elites, the growing influence of social networks, extreme personalization of power and difficulty building durable majorities. Cronyism and vested interests are never far away. Brexit did not create these fractures; it revealed and amplified them. This evolution also calls into question the international prestige of the British model. For a long time, London lectured the rest of the world on governance. Today, some countries that once looked to Westminster now watch its inventor’s troubles with surprise. British democracy is no longer the model of stability it once claimed to embody. Some of us once thought it the perfect template that could be transplanted to Morocco. Should we conclude it is in decline? That would be premature. British institutions retain considerable strengths: an independent judiciary, a free press, a competent civil service and a deeply rooted parliamentary tradition. Few countries would weather such a string of crises without questioning their constitutional order. But another truth is clear: the political stability that was the system’s main strength is no longer guaranteed. When a country changes its head of government eight times in a decade, it can no longer rely on tradition alone to reassure citizens or convince the world. Extremes are watching. The United Kingdom remains a resilient democracy. It is, however, no longer the uncontested example it was for two centuries. Its recent history reminds us of a often-forgotten truth: no democracy, however old, is immune to institutional wear and tear. The question is therefore no longer whether the British model is in crisis. The facts already answer affirmatively. The real question is different: is this a temporary crisis tied to the exceptional shocks of Brexit and economic upheavals, or the first signs of a deeper exhaustion of a political system that for nearly two centuries shaped many contemporary democracies without always delivering the promised stability? God save the King.

Crisis of leadership: A nation will only have the leaders it deserves... 2301

Aziz Daouda, 16 d.
- Politics - Society -
3.1 min read.
Man is born first with a basic reflex: to defend himself. To protect his body, his immediate territory, his survival. This instinct is ancient, almost animal. With social and intellectual evolution, that horizon widens. Man becomes capable of defending his family, his clan, and sometimes a community. But few are able to conceive of and sustain the defense of an entire nation’s interest. Yet it is precisely this capacity that distinguishes a true statesman from a mere political actor or a follower citizen. This reality sheds light on a major difficulty modern systems face in producing real leaders, especially in developing regions where the standard of living often correlates with the level of consciousness and clarity of vision. Most individuals naturally reason from their immediate interests. Even in the most advanced democracies, many political leaders put their careers first, their electoral clientele, their regional, ethnic, economic or ideological group. Few manage to break free from that logic and adopt a long-term national vision. World political history is full of examples illustrating this fundamental difference between a manager and a leader. A manager administers what exists. A leader transforms a society by carrying a vision that transcends his own interest. When General Charles de Gaulle returned to power in 1958, France was deeply divided by the Algerian War. He could have chosen the easy political path by aligning with the most powerful groups of the moment. Instead he chose a painful course he considered consonant with France’s strategic interest. That ability to think of the nation before immediate passions precisely defines historic leadership. Similarly, Nelson Mandela could have governed South Africa in a spirit of revenge after twenty-seven years in prison. He chose national reconciliation. Again, he no longer defended a group, but a higher idea of the nation. His successors squandered the capital he had built. Many countries today suffer from permanent political fragmentation. Parties become electoral machines focused on internal balances, personal ambitions, or short-term calculations. Political debate is then reduced to a quantitative competition: how many seats, how many votes, which coalitions. This is precisely where the theoretical role of political parties comes in. In modern democracies, parties should not be mere instruments for electoral conquest. Their fundamental mission is much nobler and more difficult: to identify, train, and promote personalities capable of rising above particular interests to embody the general interest. Yet this mission has become extremely complex. Mass media, the dominance of social networks and the politics of buzz often favor the most visible profiles rather than the most visionary. The ability to produce a viral line is rewarded more than the ability to build a national strategy for twenty years. Media time has become faster than political time. This drift explains why so many societies now experience a leadership crisis. Leaders are sometimes elected by statistical mechanism more than by genuine adherence to a vision. Universal suffrage remains essential, but it does not automatically guarantee the emergence of the best. It mainly makes it possible to designate those most capable of winning a majority. Between being elected and being a historic leader, however, there is a vast difference. A true leader possesses several rare characteristics: the capacity for personal sacrifice, long-term vision, the courage to accept temporary unpopularity, and above all the aptitude to reconcile conflicting interests around a national project. That is why great nations invest heavily in training their political, administrative and intellectual elites. Universities, grandes écoles, military or diplomatic institutions often play a major role in shaping leaders. The United States has Harvard University, Yale University or Stanford; France has Sciences Po or the former ENA; the United Kingdom has relied for centuries on the University of Oxford and the University of Cambridge. These institutions do not automatically produce political geniuses. But they create spaces where a culture of the State and the nation is built. In developing countries, the difficulty is even greater. The weight of local, tribal, economic or clientelist affiliations can sometimes prevent the emergence of a genuine national consciousness. The political leader then becomes the defender of a segment of society or an interest group rather than the servant of the whole nation. Yet no nation can sustainably progress without leaders able to elevate collective debate above immediate interests. The great political challenge of the 21st century is therefore not only economic or technological. It is human. How do we train men and women capable of thinking beyond themselves? How do we produce leaders who sometimes accept political loss in order to make their country win historically? In this respect, the situation unfolding in Morocco starkly illustrates this leadership crisis, with exhausted parties unable to renew their elites and discourses, while the political field oscillates between the noisy populism of some, the silence or assumed incompetence of others, and the proliferation of specialists in lies and hollow promises, with less than three months to go before crucial legislative elections for the country's future. Where do we stand with personalities such as Allal El Fassi, Abderrahim Bouabid, Abdelkhalek Torres, Mohamed Hassan El Ouazani and others? They were all products of a consciousness and a historical context. What then of the real challenges, of conscience and responsibility? What of the context that leaves us no choice? Where to move forward: consolidate the country's upward trajectory or, conversely, miss the technological turn as we missed the mechanization turn. The consequences are known to all: the Sherifian Empire eventually ended up placed under a protectorate and dismembered. Many citizens today are convinced that the answer cannot come solely from the ballot box. It also depends on education, political culture, the quality of institutions, citizens' honesty and the maturity of society. For at bottom, a nation often gets the leaders it prepares, values... and deserves.

When football studios become platforms for ill‑informed geopolitics... 2331

Aziz Daouda, 16 d.
- Politics - Society - Sports -
2.5 min read.
The World Cup is first and foremost a celebration of sport, a moment when tactics, technique, predictions and collective narrative take center stage. Yet at every major tournament lately, some studio panels turn into makeshift political arenas. Discussions meant to be about the game too often slide into poorly handled geopolitical sparring, to the detriment of sporting analysis and mutual respect among peoples. Television offers valuable visibility. For a pundit, columnist or host, being invited on a panel is an opportunity to clarify, inform and share expertise. But fame does not equal competence. Recently we’ve seen a worrying trend: contributors whose legitimacy rests on football morph into occasional political scientists when the topic is North African national teams. Instead of explaining a tactical choice, a technical performance or analyzing physical preparation, some use the microphone to denounce or instrumentalize historical and diplomatic tensions. The tone becomes aggressive and remarks turn ridiculous, veering into antisemitism, gutter invective and obsessive denigration. This drift is not harmless. It rests on a category error: talking about football requires sporting expertise; discussing international relations demands mastery of facts, historical perspective and rhetorical caution. The two fields rely on different methodologies. Reducing one to the other endangers the quality of public debate. The media magnifying effect means visibility should be paired with responsibility. The second problem is impact. A TV panel is watched by thousands, even millions. Statements made live are picked up and amplified on social media, sometimes stripped of context. When a pundit issues a sweeping opinion about history or diplomacy, the audience can take it as an authoritative verdict. This is particularly dangerous because it can present a partisan vision, deliberately shaped into a media “truth,” feeding resentments and stereotypes among closely connected peoples. One obvious reminder is needed: no commentator speaks for a people. Delegated speech in a media democracy is not a mandate. Confusing a pundit’s voice with that of a nation is an error as common as it is harmful. Sporting passions should not trample centuries‑old ties. While verbal fireworks make talk shows thrive, they must not obscure a firmer reality: ties between the peoples of the Maghreb rest on centuries of shared history, economic and cultural exchanges and family solidarities. These bonds usually withstand the excesses of studio debates and the lapses of some “politicians.” Sporting rivalries often exist within a framework of healthy competitiveness; they should not be turned into political conflict whose only aim is to mask one weakness or another. Distinguishing the rule from the exception is therefore essential. Outbursts happen, but they do not represent the totality of human and cultural relations in the region or the real situation of any given country. By contrast, the majority of supporters, sports journalists and analysts work to make sport a vector of exchange, not a pretext for polarizing societies. The shows that allowed these excesses would do well to return to best practices if they want to reclaim constructive debate. It is possible to restore program quality; media leaders and those in government have a duty to ensure this—unless it suits them otherwise. Unless they are complicit, some practical recommendations apply: - Clarify the formats: clearly separate sports segments from socio‑political debates, with hosts who steer discussions back on track when they degenerate. - Encourage nuance: promote well‑documented, sourced and balanced interventions rather than gratuitous theatrics and provocation. - Hold media accountable: establish editorial charters that set consultants’ scope and sanction factual departures. - Train contributors: offer sports pundits briefings on historical and diplomatic issues, and vice versa. - Respect expertise: invite qualified specialists (academics, historians, diplomats) for geopolitical topics and distinguish them from sports debates. These measures are not meant to muzzle speech but to make it more legitimate and useful. They will not necessarily deter troublemakers. Beyond ethical comfort, the stake is concrete: the credibility of public debate. When ignorance masquerades as expertise, the whole audience loses. Viewers tune in for explanations about a team’s performance, not a truncated history lesson serving hatred and discrimination. The risk is to normalize intellectual sloppiness and to instrumentalize television as an echo chamber for poorly informed grudges and cheap propaganda. Football deserves better than being hijacked for premature, ill‑founded polemics. Sports studios should remain spaces for game analysis, celebration of performance and respectful exchange. When politics must be discussed, call qualified voices and give them time to analyze. Ending makeshift geopolitics is a way to restore sport’s primary function: bringing peoples closer, not driving them apart. Polemic and insults do not diminish a country’s achievements, nor do they ennoble those who spread them.

Demography: Morocco’s existential challenge in the 21st century... 2324

Aziz Daouda, 16 d.
- Politics - Society - Business -
2.9 min read.
Dealing with demography is often seen as a statistical exercise reserved for demographers, economists or specialized institutions. History, however, shows that no single factor shapes a nation’s destiny more than changes in its population. Economic power, social cohesion, military capacity, innovation, pensions, public health and territorial balances all depend on demographic dynamics. Publications by the High Commission for Planning and reports from the Economic, Social and Environmental Council regularly describe ongoing transformations. But the strategic significance of these changes is rarely addressed, as if population ageing were merely one natural phenomenon among many rather than one of Morocco’s main challenges for the coming decades. The country counts nearly 37 million inhabitants. That number is significant regionally, but modest compared with many emerging powers. Morocco is undergoing an accelerated demographic transition. Fertility, which was 5.78 children per woman in the 1980s, has fallen to levels that threaten generational replacement. This trend reflects advances in education, the improvement of women’s status, rising urbanisation and better access to healthcare. It also carries its own set of challenges. When generations become smaller, the age pyramid gradually changes: the base narrows while the top widens, and society ages. Morocco therefore risks ageing before it has become fully wealthy. Unlike European countries, which benefited from a century of prosperity before confronting ageing, the Kingdom will have to manage development demands and the needs of an increasingly older population at the same time. A true trap. Japan, often cited as the global reference for ageing, became an economic power before it aged. Morocco, by contrast, could experience a rapid demographic transition without having sufficient wealth to absorb the consequences: social and health expenditures and the cost of caring for the elderly will soar. The number of contributors supporting pension systems will fall, with fewer active workers supporting more dependents. No pension system can sustainably resist that mathematical reality. The issue becomes more strategic in light of the Kingdom’s economic ambitions. Under the leadership of His Majesty King Mohammed VI, the country has embarked on a deep transformation of its economic model. Modern infrastructure, renewable energy, the automotive and aeronautics sectors, emerging defence industries, digital technologies, major logistics projects and the Football World Cup are pillars of this new economy. But behind the investments and infrastructure remains the same decisive factor: human capital. Who will work in tomorrow’s factories and build future infrastructure? Who will ensure agricultural production as rural areas empty? Who will fund national solidarity mechanisms? The Moroccan paradox is already clear. The country simultaneously suffers from high unemployment and labour shortages in many sectors. Construction, agriculture, crafts, certain manufacturing industries and several technical trades struggle to recruit. This contradiction reflects a growing mismatch between the economy’s needs and the aspirations of part of the youth, who legitimately or not seek specific conditions and better-paid jobs. At the same time, interest is waning in some occupations that are nonetheless essential to the economy. The phenomenon is not exclusive to Morocco: it also affects Europe and North America. Here it is aggravated by other factors, including the low social status of certain trades, the size of the informal sector and shortcomings in vocational training after the abandonment of traditional apprenticeship, wrongly stigmatized as child labour. Manual and technical work is insufficiently valued even though it is the backbone of many high-performing economies. Another question is quietly emerging: what if Morocco became a country of structural immigration? This hypothesis may surprise in a country historically marked by emigration. Morocco already hosts thousands of workers and students mainly from sub-Saharan Africa. Tomorrow, these flows could become indispensable to certain economic sectors. The real question is not whether immigration will exist, but what kind of immigration Morocco wants to organise. Skilled immigration or temporary labour migration? Regional African immigration integrated into the Kingdom’s continental strategy? This reflection must start today to avoid future improvisation. Demography is also a matter of sovereignty. The great powers of the 21st century possess a balance of territory, population, economy and innovation. China, India, the United States and other regional powers base their influence on that combination. For Morocco, demography has a particular dimension. The Kingdom harbours continental economic ambitions, plays an increasing diplomatic role, develops its maritime fronts and strengthens its presence in global value chains. All these ambitions require an engaged, motivated, active, dynamic, qualified and sufficiently numerous population. The challenge is strategic: Morocco needs a demographic pact to face these challenges. A national debate is necessary. The reflection should go beyond the sole question of birth rates. It must encompass family policies, housing, youth employment, education, vocational training, pensions, immigration, health, territorial planning and investment. In other words, a cross-cutting policy involving all public stakeholders. Morocco has always shown its capacity to anticipate major strategic challenges: energy policy, port infrastructure and water resource management are examples. Demography deserves the same level of attention today. A country is not reduced to its roads, its factories or its macroeconomic indicators; it rests first and foremost on men and women able to produce, innovate, pass on knowledge, defend and build the future. The real challenge is therefore not only economic or social: it is demographic. And it is precisely because it is silent that it may be the most important of all.

Consume Moroccan: what if the State finally made national preference a massive employment lever? 3236

Aziz Daouda, 23 d.
- Politics - Business -
3 min read.
For decades Morocco has searched for the formula that would sustainably reduce unemployment, ease inequalities, and strengthen its economic sovereignty. Plans and strategies follow one another; yet one economic truth remains: employment is not decreed, it is created by demand. No factory hires if no one buys its products. No artisan survives without customers. No industrial sector grows without a solid market. Industrial powers understood this long ago: to create jobs, you must first steer national consumption toward national production. Morocco already knows this mechanism. The social housing sector is a telling example: tax exemptions and support mechanisms enabled the emergence of a complete ecosystem. The result: hundreds of thousands of direct and indirect jobs in construction, carpentry, materials, transport and other finishing trades. Why not apply this logic to Morocco’s automotive industry, for example? Here the paradox is striking. The kingdom is the largest car manufacturer in Africa. Renault and Stellantis export hundreds of thousands of vehicles per year; popular models are assembled locally and Neo Motors embodies the ambition of a national brand. And yet, in the public sphere as well as among many private citizens, purchases of imported vehicles remain predominant. What message are we sending our industrialists if the State itself favors foreign products? Is it acceptable that administrations, which are heavy vehicle consumers, procure imported vehicles en masse? That should simply be avoided. An individual choosing to buy a vehicle not made in Morocco to commute or carry their family is their choice; it is another matter when the State does it. That is why a policy encouraging national purchases seems economically logical and easy to imagine: bonuses for buying vehicles produced in Morocco (for example a rebate of 30,000 dirhams for some national electric vehicles, 20,000 for popular locally-made models), targeted tax exemptions and access to preferential loans for cars with a high national industrial content. These measures may seem costly at first glance. But one must measure the chain effect: when a vehicle made in Morocco is purchased, the factory raises production, subcontractors hire, carriers create value, the State collects more tax revenue and social contributions, and wages injected into the economy revive other sectors. A national car is not just a purchase; it activates an entire economic sector. Precedents elsewhere support this approach. The Buy American Act in the United States, China’s strategic protection of key industries, European green bonuses favouring local production, and Germany’s industrial policies show that privileging domestic production is not an isolationist reflex but a common instrument of industrial policy. Why would what is considered smart elsewhere be labeled “excessive protectionism” when applied in Morocco? How to explain that offices are fitted with imported furniture while many carpenters complain of a lack of demand? How is it that the rugs used in some public spaces and offices do not come from Rabat, Taznakht, or the Atlas? Thousands of jobs could be created in this way. The Moroccan State has a major lever: its public procurement. Ministries, local authorities and public institutions spend billions every year. If every public dirham spent abroad is potentially a lost job, imagine a simple rule: mandatory priority to Moroccan products when a local alternative exists. That would change everything. Administrative furniture made in Morocco, public vehicles manufactured locally, handicrafts integrated into public buildings, local materials for public works: these decisions would introduce structural and lasting demand for thousands of Moroccan companies. Public buildings could become showcases of national know‑how because the issue goes beyond industry: it touches culture and heritage. Morocco has one of the richest artisan traditions in the world: zellige, tadelakt, carved wood, ironwork, carpets, leather, traditional ceilings—yet many public spaces display a standard without identity. Requiring a significant share of Moroccan craftsmanship in new public constructions would not only be symbolic: it would be massive support for artisans, SMEs, skills transmission, and cultural tourism. What impact on employment? One direct job in industry often generates 3 to 5 indirect jobs (subcontracting, logistics, maintenance, trade, financial services). If public procurement shifted toward “Made in Morocco,” tens of thousands of jobs could be created or consolidated over several years. In crafts and local materials, the social effect would be even stronger, since these sectors are very labor-intensive. Advocating “consume Moroccan” is not closed nationalism. The country must obviously remain open to trade and foreign investment; that openness has been a success factor. But smart openness also requires consolidating a domestic productive base. Producing without consuming your own goods means remaining dependent on volatile external demand and exposing yourself to international shocks. Economic sovereignty begins with confidence in our productive capacities. The real obstacle may be cultural: for a long time imported goods were considered superior in many post‑colonial societies. Yet the facts speak: cars made in Morocco run in Europe; Moroccan wiring and parts equip global brands; the national aeronautics and textile sectors work for multinationals. The challenge is often how we view ourselves. In reality, unemployment will fall when local production finds strong and lasting national demand. Every time a Moroccan chooses a product made in Morocco, they support a wage, a family, a workshop, a factory, a craft and contribute to greater social stability. Economic patriotism is not a slogan: it is a development strategy. If the country combines industrial determination, targeted support and cultural transformation, Morocco’s greatest wealth could become not only what it exports, but also what its citizens choose proudly to produce and consume.

World Cup 2026: Sovereignty Reclaims Its Legitimate Rights... 4343

Aziz Daouda, 1 mon.
A few days ago I published an article titled “World Cup 2026: when states remind FIFA who really calls the shots.” I tried there to explain why a country’s sovereign laws cannot be overridden by the rules of an international association. Sovereignty and security are attributes of states and only of states. That the United States, in this case, refused entry on its soil to people who were supposed to participate in the FIFA World Cup is a decision solely for that country to make. President Infantino, powerless, will acquiesce and be forced to acknowledge the supremacy of American domestic law. He will need to remember that if, in 2030, Spain, Portugal or Morocco decide to impose specific visas or quotas on nationals of certain countries, or to deny entry to certain individuals. This time I was tempted to title the piece “When the United States reminds FIFA that it is only an association.” In the end I chose the headline you see at the top. In practice, this edition of the Football World Cup has become one of questioning principles, practices and habits long considered definitive and non‑negotiable. For years FIFA grew accustomed to imposing its conditions on countries hosting major competitions: tax exemptions, special legal regimes, administrative privileges, customs facilitation. Almost systematically, candidate states for hosting a World Cup often agreed to set aside part of their sovereignty to meet Zurich’s demands. But the United States has just reminded us of a fundamental truth: no private association, however powerful, stands above the laws of a sovereign state. The signals have multiplied in recent weeks: the case of the Somali referee turned away, the difficulties some delegations encountered obtaining visas, restrictions targeting supporters of several nationalities, limits on travel and stays imposed on Iranians, and Senegalese players confronted with the strictness of U.S. immigration and border controls. Each time the same conclusion is clear: American laws prevail over FIFA’s regulations. Today a new episode confirms that reality. In the United States, FIFA will have to pay taxes on income generated during the 2026 World Cup. A small revolution. Until now, FIFA typically demanded near‑total exemptions from host countries for its revenues. The billions of dollars generated by broadcast rights, marketing, partnerships and merchandise were largely shielded from national taxation before being transferred to the organization’s accounts in Switzerland. This time the scenario is different, and we must measure the symbolic weight of that decision. It means the United States regards FIFA not as an international organization or supranational institution, but simply as a private association conducting economic activity on American soil. Even Gianni Infantino — whose rise to the FIFA presidency owes much to the geopolitical balances that favored his candidacy — is discovering the limits of his power when faced with the American administration and the political will of President Donald Trump. The message is clear: American laws are non‑negotiable. This lesson deserves reflection from future host countries, notably Morocco, which will co‑host the 2030 World Cup with Spain and Portugal. Why should a sovereign state renounce legitimate tax revenues in favor of an organization already among the richest on the planet? I do not know the status of negotiations with FIFA for 2030, but the United States has opened our eyes and challenged decision‑makers in Spain, Portugal and Morocco about what rights to grant FIFA. Moroccan companies, Moroccan merchants, Moroccan employees and Moroccan taxpayers all meet their fiscal obligations. Should FIFA be exempt while it will be engaged in profitable economic activity here? The question must be asked plainly. When an economic activity generates income on Moroccan territory, it must contribute to financing the infrastructure, public services and investments that make hosting an event of this magnitude possible. That is the very basis of the social contract. The American example thus recalls an essential democratic principle: the internal rules of an international sporting federation can never override laws passed by a parliament representing the popular will. For too long, some international sports organizations have cultivated the idea that they constitute a sort of superior authority capable of imposing their norms on states. The United States has demonstrated the opposite. The World Cup belongs to FIFA. Sovereignty belongs to nations. If the two collide, national laws must prevail. That may be the most important political lesson already taught by World Cup 2026.

World Cup: when states remind FIFA who really calls the shots... 4373

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

The spy and the monarchy: Postcolonial fantasies or the spy who frightens… the newsrooms 4899

Aziz Daouda, 1 mon.
- Politics -
2.5 min read.
'In Morocco, Mohammed VI’s spy who worries the palace,' better still: 'In Morocco, the secret war of Mohammed VI’s spies: there is an atmosphere of end of reign' — the headlines alone are enough to make one smile. Or rather to provoke a burst of laughter. Outrageous headlines that a certain French press loves when it comes to the Kingdom of Morocco: activist, ideologized, nostalgic for a time when Paris still believed it could hand out certificates of legitimacy to sovereign nations. There is something almost pathetic in this obsession. As soon as an obscure official, a former agent or a subordinate in breach appears somewhere between Madrid, Paris or Brussels, certain newspapers immediately start fantasizing about a faltering Moroccan monarchy, a worried palace, a kingdom on the verge of an earthquake. As if the Moroccan state, millennial in its roots, could be shaken by the wanderings of one man on the run. One must really know Morocco very poorly to imagine that, or perhaps be ill-intentioned and deeply afflicted with a genuine anti-monarchical syndrome. The Kingdom has gone through wars, plots, attempted coups, major regional crises, terrorism, the geopolitical upheavals of the Maghreb and the Sahel, and the Sahara affair manufactured out of whole cloth by a poorly inspired neighbor. And today they would like us to believe that an agent on the run could 'worry the king'? We are no longer in journalism; we are in a penny‑dreadful novel. What comes through above all, behind this kind of headline, is an old French fascination for the Moroccan monarchy. A century-old fascination, mixed with incomprehension and often envy. And it is understandable: the Kingdom of Morocco is bewitching, fascinating. It has been and will remain so forever. Its monarchy is millennial. Along with those of Japan and Great Britain, it exerts an irresistible fascination everywhere in the world and for many in France. France, for its part, decapitated its king in an unbelievable excess of zeal, dressed up as a people's revolution; a narrative invented from scratch which, in reality, no one fully believes. It spent centuries seeking replacement figures: emperors, providential presidents, strongmen, republican monarchies in disguise. This country is deeply monarchic. Meanwhile, the Moroccan monarchy remained standing, rooted, respected and deeply linked to the country's history. A monarchy wanted, almost fusionally, by a whole people. Morocco is the oldest durable nation-state in the world. This bothers certain French ideological circles who dream of seeing the fall of traditional institutions everywhere, especially when they still function and retain popular support. A certain nostalgia resurfaces on the occasion. The most comical thing remains the tendency of this press, for a long time now, to turn every minor affair into a 'state scandal'. An individual flees? It immediately becomes 'the palace earthquake'. A hostile book appears? They announce 'the end of the regime'. An influencer posts a video? Some already see an imminent revolution. The trouble is that this press spares nothing, not even resorting to blackmail of the Kingdom, even if it gets caught red-handed. Meanwhile, Morocco moves forward. The country builds its infrastructures, develops its industries, invests massively in renewable energies, prepares for the 2030 World Cup, strengthens its diplomatic presence in Africa and consolidates its strategic partnerships with the world's great powers, including France. The country has solid institutions that it advances and evolves at its own pace in the service of its people. But all this interests certain editors less than the grotesque staging of a pseudo-'spy' supposed to make Rabat tremble. There is, in this affair, a mixture of ignorance, arrogance and postcolonial fantasy: as if Morocco must forever be viewed through the prism of Oriental intrigues, obscure palaces and sensationalist narratives intended to feed a shrinking readership, hungry for clichés. The reality is much simpler: serious states do not collapse because an agent deserts, speaks or flees. Otherwise no power in the world would survive long. His Majesty KING Mohammed VI certainly did not wait for French editorialists craving sensation to understand that services, rivalries and betrayals exist in all countries of the world. The difference is that in Morocco the State continues to function while others manufacture sensational headlines to mask the emptiness of their thinking. You understood, I spoke of the wanderings of 'Libération' and 'l'Express', two French newspapers, of a drifting left, that the upcoming state visit of the Moroccan sovereign to Paris and the historic agreements that will be signed on the occasion disturb a lot. Relations between the two countries have taken a step and will be stronger than ever regardless — to the displeasure of a certain press and its probable sponsors.

De Mistura's Visit to Algiers: The Final Curtain of a Narrative? 5111

Aziz Daouda, 1 mon.
The brief stop by UN Secretary-General’s personal envoy for the Sahara, Staffan de Mistura, in Algiers and then Tindouf, was far from a routine diplomatic visit. Behind the standard communiqués and diplomatic smiles, this tour reveals a geopolitical reality increasingly difficult to conceal: the Algerian regime is now cornered by the shifting international balance of power over the Sahara issue. The visit is first and foremost symbolic because of its timing. As the first significant tour since 2025, it unfolds in a context utterly different from that of previous decades. For years, Algiers successfully imposed its narrative on this conflict: that of a supposed decolonization struggle pitting a “Sahrawi people” against Morocco, which Algeria labels the “occupier.” Yet this narrative is gradually collapsing under the weight of diplomatic, historical, and geostrategic realities. It is important to remember that this visit follows meetings in Madrid and Washington, where the four involved countries—including Algeria, of course—sat at the same table under U.S. auspices. The Trump administration seeks to swiftly end this artificial conflict and move on. In Tindouf, De Mistura visited camps maintained for nearly half a century outside international refugee law standards—a unique anomaly worldwide. The populations living there have never been registered, despite repeated requests from the UN High Commissioner for Refugees. Why this permanent refusal to register them? Because it would expose an embarrassing truth for Algiers: the diverse origins of camp inhabitants and the political instrumentalization of their situation. Among these populations coexist a minority of committed separatists, families trapped for decades, as well as individuals from Mauritania, the Sahel, and even some regions of Algeria itself. Maintaining demographic ambiguity has always been Algiers’ strategic tool to artificially amplify the human and political dimension of the conflict. Today, however, the international context has changed. The main turning point is clearly American. Since the United States recognized Morocco’s sovereignty over its Sahara, global diplomacy has gradually adopted a new framework. This recognition was not merely a gesture by the Trump administration; it has become a lasting geopolitical fact, reinforced by U.S. strategic continuity and the growing support of several international powers for Morocco’s autonomy plan. This is precisely where Algeria’s stance becomes extremely difficult—explaining the inconsistency in the recent positions and rhetoric of Algeria’s president and top diplomat. Support for the Polisario Front has never been just a diplomatic issue for Algiers. It currently stands as one of the foundational pillars of the country’s entire policy. Since the 1970s, perhaps even since the nation’s creation on July 5, 1962, the Algerian regime has built part of its regional and ideological legitimacy on fierce opposition to the Kingdom of Morocco—sometimes covert, sometimes overt and declared, especially since the rise of the Chengriha–Tebboune tandem. For Algeria’s leadership, the Sahara conflict is an internal political asset, a tool for nationalist mobilization, and a geostrategic lever in its rivalry with Rabat. Abandoning this issue would mean the regime acknowledging fifty years of strategic errors, colossal financial investments, and diplomatic manipulations. More seriously, it would signal the collapse of a historical narrative that long served as the cement of Algeria’s military power. Yet Washington now pushes for a realistic, pragmatic, and definitive solution. This solution has a precise name: autonomy under Moroccan sovereignty. Facing this new reality, Algiers appears to have no real room for maneuver. Its official discourse still claims it “is not a party to the conflict,” even though everything proves the opposite: financing, arming, diplomatic management, political control of the camps, and direct appointment of Polisario leaders. The whole world knows this. The contradiction is becoming increasingly difficult to defend before the international community. Meanwhile, Morocco is reaping success after success. Diplomatically, the massive opening of consulates in the Southern provinces and the expanding international support for the autonomy plan demonstrate growing triumph. Economically, Laâyoune and Dakhla are transforming into investment hubs and gateways for African connectivity. On the security front, the Kingdom is establishing itself as a credible and stable partner amid Sahelian turbulence. The contrast is striking. On one side, Morocco builds, invests, secures, and projects a continental strategic vision. On the other, Algeria remains trapped in a Cold War-era confrontation logic, even as it faces increasingly visible economic, social, and geopolitical fragilities. De Mistura’s visit thus illustrates less a revival of the political process than a phase of historical transition. Time now clearly favors Morocco. International balances have shifted. Today, major powers prioritize regional stability, counterterrorism, and concrete economic partnerships over old ideological frameworks. The international community is more convinced than ever that Algeria has offered nothing but perpetual confusion since the beginning. The real question is no longer whether the Sahara issue will evolve toward a solution under Moroccan sovereignty, but when Algiers will accept this reality and how the Algerian regime will politically manage this immense strategic retreat. This is the entire tragedy of Algeria’s leadership. It is almost impossible for it to exit a conflict it itself elevated to an identity and diplomatic foundation for nearly half a century—unless it undergoes radical changes at all levels, especially at the top of the military apparatus. It would require sacrificing an entire generation that knew only one doctrine: fuel an artificial conflict and make Morocco the classic enemy, the eternal enemy. Unfortunately for Algiers, it is now clear that this imaginary enemy has definitively won the game. Mr. Staffan de Mistura’s visit may well be the last of its kind in the region... The final curtain is imminent.

Un Security Council resolution 2797: a test of truth for Algeria... 5451

Aziz Daouda, 1 mon.
Resolution 2797 of the UN Security Council has undeniably marked a turning point in the so‑called Sahara dossier. Morocco’s autonomy plan is no longer merely described as “serious and credible,” as in previous resolutions; it has become the central framework around which the international community now wishes to organize a political solution. This diplomatic shift is significant. It means that fifty years of Algeria’s strategy around the Polisario have reached a historical dead end. In a recent statement, Algeria’s foreign minister tried to present a near‑new narrative: Algeria as a peaceful country committed to dialogue and negotiations, while sidestepping his government’s core responsibility in this manufactured conflict. That new portrayal is surprising given the actual history of Moroccan‑Algerian relations since Algeria’s independence. For more than half a century Morocco has lived under constant security pressure on its eastern borders, forced to devote a substantial share of its resources to defense at the expense of many other sectors. The Sahara conflict has never been a simple confrontation between Rabat and the Polisario, as Attaf claims. In capitals around the world it is well known that the Polisario would not exist militarily, diplomatically, or financially without massive Algerian backing. The Tindouf camps are on Algerian soil, arms have historically come from Algiers, and Algerian diplomacy has made this file the cornerstone of its foreign policy since the 1970s. Recent UN resolutions implicitly acknowledge Algeria’s decisive role in the conflict by linking it directly to the political process. The history of relations between the two countries largely explains the distrust that animates Morocco. From the moment of Algerian independence, border tensions surfaced quickly despite the considerable support Morocco had earlier given to Algeria’s anticolonial struggle. Moroccan territory had served as a rear base for the FLN; Algerian leaders found refuge, funding, and logistical support there. Yet barely independent, Algeria — aligned with the region’s military regimes — triggered the Sand War with Morocco in 1963. The logic of confrontation was thus firmly established and the rivalry became structural. The Algerian regime, built around military power, sought to assert itself as the region’s dominant force in the Maghreb and Africa. In that logic, Morocco appeared as a historic and strategic rival to be contained. The Sahara then became the ideal lever: a costly, interminable conflict was activated to wear down Morocco economically, diplomatically, and militarily. For decades Algiers invested billions of dollars in this confrontation. Significant hydrocarbon revenues were mobilized to fund a global diplomatic war, arm the Polisario, secure political backers, and sustain an expensive propaganda apparatus. Meanwhile, the peoples of North Africa paid the price: closed borders, stalled economic integration, and paralysed exchanges. Resolution 2797 therefore deeply changes the parameters of the dossier. The Security Council now regards Moroccan autonomy as “the most realistic and viable solution.” Major Western powers explicitly support this orientation. Even the abstentions by Russia and China reflect a notable evolution: no major power wished to oppose this new dynamic outright. Above all, the resolution marks a major diplomatic and strategic shift that places the Moroccan plan at the centre of the political process. For Morocco, this development represents a considerable diplomatic victory won after decades of effort and patience. The Kingdom multiplied economic partnerships across Africa, strengthened its Western alliances, and rapidly developed the Southern provinces. Roads, ports, energy investments, sports infrastructure and industrial projects have transformed the region. This momentum gradually convinced many states that regional stability now requires a pragmatic solution founded on Moroccan sovereignty. Algeria, for its part, now appears to be seeking an honorable way out. But one question remains: can the page be turned so easily if Algeria does not acknowledge its historical responsibility in a conflict that has deeply destabilised the region? For many Moroccans the issue is not only territorial; it is also memorial and strategic. The wounds accumulated since the mass expulsions of Moroccans from Algeria in 1975, the permanent military tensions, the closed borders, the near‑daily insulting rhetoric in Algerian state media toward the Kingdom, and the relentless diplomatic war feed deep resentment. Debates therefore regularly return to the question of moral, political and territorial reparations: compensation for lives lost, for resources swallowed by an imposed confrontation, for decades wasted by the entire Maghreb. Moroccans have not forgotten territories expropriated in favour of French Algeria. This is documented and archived. Behind the Sahara conflict lies the historical failure of Maghreb integration. The future will now hinge on Algiers’ ability to recognise and assume its responsibilities and to accept the new regional balance of power. The world is changing. States today seek stability, trade corridors, energy security and strategic cooperation. The “revolutionary” and ideological logics inherited from the Cold War have lost their influence. Where they prevailed they brought only misfortune. Morocco increasingly appears as a stable regional actor, connected to Europe, Africa and the Atlantic world. The current diplomatic dynamic favours it. But durable peace in the Maghreb will require more than a diplomatic victory. It will demand a genuine change of political doctrine in Algiers: abandonment of the confrontation paradigm, acceptance of the principle of reparations, recognition of new geopolitical realities, and the establishment of regional cooperation built on the interests of the peoples rather than the reflexes of a military apparatus. Ultimately, the real stake goes beyond the Sahara. It is whether the Maghreb can finally emerge from half a century of sterile rivalries to become a space of prosperity and collective power. That now depends on the Algerian people.

Mehdi Tazi – Mohamed Bachiri: the duo that could reinvent Moroccan business leadership... 5739

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

Algiers’ reversal on the Moroccan Sahara: a diplomatic admission or an awkward strategic repositioning? 7360

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.
The recent statement by Algeria’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, Ahmed Attaf, did not go unnoticed. The tone is solemn, the delivery measured and deliberate, and the emphasis pronounced. The moment appears serious. By asserting from the outset that his country’s objective has always been to promote negotiations between “the parties concerned”, namely, in his view, Morocco and the Polisario, while portraying Algeria as merely a neighboring observer alongside Mauritania, Attaf is clearly attempting to redefine his country’s role in the Sahara issue. This narrative, likely aimed at the Algerian public, contradicts reality. Algeria is indeed involved as a party, just like Mauritania. This stance raises many questions, as it conflicts not only with the rest of the statement but, more importantly, with decades of Algeria’s political, military, diplomatic, and logistical involvement in this artificial regional conflict, an involvement that is difficult to deny given the tangible evidence. Since the 1970s, Algeria has been the Polisario’s main supporter, arguably its only real backer. The separatist movement has benefited on Algerian soil from a political and military sanctuary in Tindouf, a fallback territory, financial support, substantial weaponry, and consistent diplomatic backing in international organizations. Polisario leaders even travel aboard aircraft bearing Algeria’s official insignia, something not even government ministers routinely do. For a long time, Algiers framed this involvement as simple support for the “right of peoples to self-determination.” Yet historical facts point to a much deeper commitment. The clashes of Amgala in 1976 are a revealing episode. Morocco captured Algerian soldiers there, including the well-known Chengriha, who were directly engaged alongside Polisario fighters, triggering serious tensions between the two countries. The question remains: what were they doing in Amgala? Hassan II would later address the matter. In this context, the current attempt to reduce Algeria’s role to that of an “observer” lacks credibility. No serious observer of the issue ignores that the Polisario depends entirely on Algerian support for its political and military survival. The international context has evolved significantly, and Algeria is becoming painfully aware of it. If this statement is being made now, it is likely no coincidence. The diplomatic balance of power is shifting in Morocco’s favor. The United States’ recognition of Moroccan sovereignty over the Sahara in 2020 marked a major turning point. Since then, several influential countries have adopted positions increasingly aligned with Morocco’s autonomy plan, which a growing number of capitals now view as the most realistic and pragmatic solution. In this context, Algiers appears to be seeking, perhaps desperately, to disengage from a conflict that has become costly both diplomatically and economically. The multiplication of regional crises in the Sahel, in which Algeria is often implicated, tensions with several international partners, and internal economic difficulties have further weakened its position. Algeria is indeed facing a persistent internal crisis, marked by a fragile social and economic situation. Despite its substantial gas resources, the country struggles to convert this wealth into sustainable development. Inflation, periodic shortages, youth unemployment, and declining trust in institutions are fueling deep unease. While the war in Ukraine temporarily strengthened Algeria’s energy leverage vis-à-vis Europe, this advantage has diminished as Europe diversified its supply sources. In this context, maintaining a frozen conflict for nearly half a century represents a political and financial burden that is increasingly difficult to sustain. Morocco, meanwhile, continues to register economic and diplomatic successes, particularly in its southern provinces. The issue of Tindouf has become sensitive, irritating, and particularly embarrassing for Algiers. The camps remain one of the most problematic aspects of the dossier. For years, international voices have called for a precise census of the populations living there, a demand regularly supported by Morocco and consistently rejected by Algeria. From a legal standpoint, Tindouf constitutes a form of sequestration. The populations there do not enjoy the rights typically afforded to refugees. Moreover, it is widely acknowledged that a significant portion of the camp populations are not originally from the Moroccan Sahara but come from other regions of the Sahel and from Algeria itself. The continued absence of an official census fuels questions about the demographic and security realities within the camps. For Algiers, this issue is all the more delicate given the sharp deterioration of the security environment in the Sahel, marked by the proliferation of armed groups, cross-border trafficking, and terrorist networks. Some even accuse Algeria of playing an ambiguous role in certain regional dynamics, particularly in light of recent developments in Mali, where elements of the Polisario have reportedly been involved. The recent evolution in Algerian rhetoric may be interpreted as an attempt to prepare for a post-Polisario phase. By seeking to reposition itself as a mere “observer,” Algiers appears intent on reducing its direct responsibility in a conflict whose diplomatic outcome seems increasingly unfavorable to separatist positions. For its part, Morocco, confident and composed, continues to promote its autonomy plan under Moroccan sovereignty as the sole and definitive solution. This proposal is gaining ground internationally, supported by active diplomacy and the opening of numerous consulates in Laayoune and Dakhla. The Kingdom now considers that any realistic solution must fall within this framework, effectively ruling out the referendum option, which has become impractical on the ground. Ahmed Attaf’s statement may therefore signal less a rupture than a transition, an imposed adjustment of Algeria’s official discourse in response to a shifting geopolitical reality. After decades of confrontation over the Sahara, Algeria seems to be acknowledging that the status quo is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. It remains to be seen whether this evolution will lead to genuine regional de-escalation or whether it is merely a tactical maneuver aimed at preserving appearances, as Algiers has so far appeared to favor a strategy of postponement. One thing, however, seems clear: the Sahara issue is entering a new phase, in which international power dynamics, regional security imperatives, and internal economic constraints will weigh more heavily than the ideological legacies of the Cold War.

Brahim Ghali, or the Art of Governing an Invisible Republic 7433

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.
- World Politics - Politics -
2.1 min read.
Some letters must be read to grasp how painfully detached from reality those who long ago chose to flee it can be. The two-page letter Brahim Ghali sent to the Secretary-General of the United Nations on 10 May 2026, in the English we all know, belongs to that fantastic strain of political literature that rewrites the world with the disarming conviction of someone who still believes the 1970s never ended. In this “solemn document,” dated from “Bir Lahlou”, a mythic location used more as an epistolary backdrop than as a real diplomatic capital, the Polisario leader denounces almost everyone. No one is spared: Morocco, the great powers, the Kingdom’s international supporters, the media, resolutions interpreted to suit his purposes, and probably tomorrow the Earth’s rotation around the Sun. What’s most striking about this “revolutionary” prose is the unfailing ability to speak as if the Polisario stood at the center of the world. It revives the old rhetorical reflexes of Third-Worldist movements preserved in ideological formalin: “occupation,” “colonialism,” “aggression,” “open war,” “international crime”… All that’s missing are a few Castro references, a Che quotation on a clandestine radio, and the clack of Soviet typewriters. Meanwhile, the real world keeps moving. Countries are recognizing Morocco’s sovereignty over the Sahara or openly backing Morocco’s autonomy plan. Even states that were traditionally cautious are taking positions with growing pragmatism. Major capitals now speak of investment, Atlantic corridors, regional stability and energy security. Yet in Tindouf, communiqués continue to be written as if the Berlin Wall were still standing. The text turns unintentionally comic when it accuses Morocco of “disinformation” while describing an almost planetary war that apparently only the Polisario’s authors, or their back office 1,824 kilometers away, can see. A war so intense that tourists are flocking to Dakhla, investments are booming in Laâyoune, and foreign consulates keep opening in the southern provinces. The contrast is striking. On one side, a Morocco building ports, roads, infrastructure, industrial zones and pursuing Atlantic ambitions. On the other, a separatist leadership still dispatching indignant letters to the UN in hopes of rebooting a diplomatic software even its former backers have started to uninstall. The most revealing passage may be where Brahim Ghali speaks of an “open war” while simultaneously calling for a return to a ceasefire his movement has repeatedly declared defunct since 2020. It’s circular logic worthy of the best absurdist sketches: the ceasefire is dead, yet we must return to what no longer exists so we can denounce who destroyed it, all while proclaiming we continue the war, a war that has not altered a single balance of power on the ground. In this letter, the Polisario resembles those ruined aristocrats who keep signing checks from an abandoned chateau with no funds. The tone is grandiose and the accusations thunderous, but behind the stagecraft lies a brutal fact: the political exhaustion of an apparatus that survives by diplomatic inertia rather than historical momentum. And then there is the constant obsession with Morocco. Everything revolves around the Kingdom. The Polisario lives against Morocco, speaks of Morocco, thinks of Morocco, accuses Morocco, dreams Morocco. While Rabat talks globalization, Atlantic Africa, the 2030 World Cup and economic integration, separatist leaders keep composing letters like forgotten resistants of a “revolution” History has already archived. That is, assuming Ghali actually wrote the letter, which he is incapable of doing. Everyone knows that too. The cruelest thing for Brahim Ghali may not be that the world proves him wrong. It is that the world is gradually, simply, stopping listening. That must be hard for him and his people... so let us pity these lost souls and laugh rather than condemn. If Nabyl Lahlou were still with us and had read these two pages, he would likely have imagined a play titled: Brahim Ghali, or the Art of Governing an Invisible Republic from an Imaginary Geography. He had a knack for the absurd.

Ouarzazate: From Logistical Isolation to a Systemic Development Emergency 8922

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

Moroccan Football: When Spectacle Becomes a Pretext for Confrontation... 8915

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

Kingdom of Morocco: towards the recovery of a suspended, not lost, greatness. 9571

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.
From the geopolitical rupture of the 18th century to the strategic recomposition of the 21st: the Kingdom of Morocco is waking up, finding itself, and asserting its place. Morocco’s history defies simplistic narratives of internal rise and decline; it reveals a deep continuity, interrupted only by imposed global shifts. The end of the 18th century did not mark a civilizational collapse, but rather a systemic marginalization caused by a missed turn toward industrialization and modernity, a project rejected by religious elites and a largely conservative society, exacerbated by internal struggles between dominant traditionalists and minority modernists. This impacted and slowed the country's evolution. This "fall" remains relative, stemming from global change rather than purely internal decline. Without tracing the history further back, under Moulay Ismaïl and his successors, Morocco radiated as a structuring power, controlling vital trans-Saharan routes, exercising influence in the Sahel, and capturing a significant share of trade toward Europe. Its embassies were everywhere, but the rise of industrial Europe disrupted this balance. Maritime dominance, the bypassing of Saharan caravans, and colonial pressure redrew the world on a scale the Kingdom could not control, did not foresee, or suffered helplessly. But Morocco did not decline; the world-system simply evolved without it. To weaken it durably, in an attempt to paralyze and handicap it forever, Morocco was sliced and divided between two colonial powers. It did not lose the last part of its historical, legitimate territory until the 1950s. Unlike the Ottoman or Persian empires, eaten away by internal weaknesses, Morocco remained coherent, ready to reinsert itself as soon as the balances shifted. Immediately upon its independence, it did not take long to begin a real struggle to reclaim its historical place, which was naturally its own. As an important sign of greatness, it was on its territory that the Allies sealed the pact for the final fight against the Nazis, in the presence of Sultan Mohamed Benyoussef and Moulay Elhassan, who thus met all the great figures of the time. The Franco-Spanish protectorate (1912-1956) disjointed the country’s traditional African networks and oriented the economy toward dependence. Yet, the Alaouite monarchy survived, the State remained structured, and the Sharifian legitimacy remained intact. This resilience, rare among colonized nations, preserved a unique historical continuity. The relationship between the people and the ruling dynasty is foolproof, forming the foundation of an inevitable reconquest. Today, an unprecedented convergence of internal and external factors is closing this parenthesis. Morocco is reactivating its imperial vocation in the geopolitical sense, not through domination, but through strategic cooperation. Since the enthronement of His Majesty Mohammed VI in 1999, the Kingdom has reversed the trend on three major fronts: - Return to Africa: Reviving ancestral roots, Morocco invests massively in West Africa (banks, telecoms, agriculture) and consolidates a religious diplomacy, positioning itself as a bridge to the continent. This ancestral role, held under the Alaouites, is reborn in a modern form based on cooperation and complementarity for shared development. - Diplomatic victories: The growing recognition of sovereignty over the Southern provinces by the United States (2020), Spain (2022), France (2024), nearly all Arab countries, and the majority of African and European nations, along with the opening of consulates in Laâyoune and Dakhla, have transformed a defensive posture into an offensive one. "The Sahara is the prism through which Morocco views its international environment," declared the sovereign on August 20, 2022. - Geostrategic centrality: Partnerships with the United States (major non-NATO ally status since 2004), European security cooperation, and African anchoring make it an Africa-Atlantic-Mediterranean pivot. Tanger Med, the 16th global logistics hub in 2025, is proof; Dakhla Atlantic, operational by 2027, will open the other Atlantic facade. The desire to recover one's fundamentals is not an illusion. The Kingdom possesses all the assets to assume what it is and what it intends to become, as it has for centuries, if not millennia. The country's internal foundations, historical and modern, are solid. It is the oldest nation-state in the world. Monarchical stability, institutional continuity, and flagship projects (FIFA World Cup, TGV, solar energy, efficient industrial ecosystem, high-ranking motorway network, and port infrastructure) forge a true base for development. This credible and accelerated renaissance relies on three converging dynamics: - Shift toward Africa: The continent's explosive demography (2.5 billion inhabitants by 2050), natural resources, and emerging markets confirm and explain Morocco's choice, where it is already a leader with 1,200 investment projects. - Crisis of rivals: Sahelian instability and Algerian ideological failures (gas dependence, diplomatic isolation) isolate competitors, while Morocco offers a credible, stable, and pragmatic alternative. - Historical continuity: The kingdom is not "becoming" a power; it is becoming, once again, a political center, commercial hub, and investment catalyst, as it has always been in the past. This is a total historical alignment, supported by a clear vision and resources mobilized toward the development of the region and, consequently, the continent of the future that is Africa. Speaking of "lost greatness" is a mistake; it was slowed by global mutations, frozen by colonization, and contained by externally imposed regional balances. Today, the international context, internal stability, and external strategy are aligning for the first time since at least the 1800s. Morocco is not returning to the stage of history; it is simply emerging from a moment when history was written without it. It now intends to reclaim its natural place with a perspective of co-development for the benefit of Africans wherever they are.

Mediterranean: The Great Erasure of the Amazigh in Eurocentric Historical Narrative... 9814

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

Renault Restructuring: Social Threat or Industrial Opportunity for Morocco? 9177

Aziz Daouda, 3 mon.
- Politics - Business -
2.4 min read.
Renault's announcement of a drastic reduction in the number of engineers fits into a global dynamic of transformation in the automotive sector. Cost pressures, the shift to electric vehicles, and the digitalization of industrial processes: these factors are pushing major manufacturers to overhaul their internal structures, particularly in engineering roles. This still amounts to nearly 25% in Renault's case. At this stage, nothing indicates that Moroccan sites, particularly the Renault Tanger plant and the Renault Casablanca plant (SOMACA), will be affected, but the hypothesis deserves serious consideration. Above all, it opens up a field of strategic reflection. What if this potential wave of released expertise represented a historic opportunity for Morocco? For several years, major automotive groups have been redirecting their investments toward high-value-added areas such as embedded software, artificial intelligence, and electric batteries. This shift mechanically reduces the need for generalist engineers while creating strong demand for specialized profiles. It's a true global transformation redefining engineering in this industry. Renault's strategic plan, particularly through its electric subsidiary Ampere, illustrates this evolution. It's not just about cutting headcounts, but redeploying skills. Morocco is no longer merely a low-cost assembly site. Over two decades, the Kingdom has built one of Africa's most performant automotive ecosystems. It has evolved from an industrial assembly workshop to an integrated platform with local integration rates exceeding 60% in certain segments, the presence of major global tier-one suppliers, competitive logistics infrastructure (Tanger Med Port), and targeted training through highly effective specialized institutes. Groups like Stellantis and Lear Corporation have strengthened this ecosystem, consolidating Morocco's position as a regional industrial hub. If workforce reductions were to impact Morocco, they would release highly qualified profiles such as process engineers, quality specialists, industrial logistics experts, and R&D applied managers. A true pool of underutilized engineers. This human capital, trained to international standards, represents a rare strategic resource. In many countries, such a concentration of skills would be immediately absorbed by a dense local industrial fabric. In Morocco, the challenge is precisely to create these outlets. The hypothesis of a Moroccan automotive brand then imposes itself, with a central point: why not turn this constraint into a lever for industrialization? Morocco today has several assets: A solvent domestic market. The Moroccan middle class, though under pressure, remains capable of supporting demand for affordable, robust vehicles adapted to local realities. A near-complete supply chain. Wiring harnesses, seats, plastic components, cabling, majority of constituent elements are already produced locally, and industrial legitimacy has been achieved. The "Made in Morocco" automotive label is no longer an abstraction. In this context, the emergence of a national brand, with models symbolically named Taroudante, Fassia, or Itto, is no longer utopian. Even if it poses several structuring challenges, such as access to financing (patient capital, sovereign or private), mastery of intellectual property, the ability to develop a competitive technical platform, and an export strategy. There are precedents from comparable emerging countries worth examining closely. Countries like these have succeeded in this gamble: Dacia in Romania, successfully relaunched (irony of history, under Renault's impetus), Tata Motors in India, or Proton in Malaysia. These examples show that a national automotive industry can emerge provided there is clear alignment between the state, private capital, and technical expertise. It's truly a matter of political and industrial will. The real question, therefore, is not technical, but strategic. Does Morocco wish to remain a performant link in a globalized value chain, or does it aspire to become a full-fledged player capable of designing, producing, and marketing its own vehicles? The answer requires a proactive industrial policy, incentives for innovation, mobilization of national capital, and above all, confidence in local skills. It's about transforming uncertainty into an ambitious national project. If Renault's restructurings were to affect Morocco, they would rightly be perceived as a social threat. But they could also become a founding moment. Because behind every potentially released engineer lies a brick of industrial sovereignty. Stacked together, these bricks can form a true edifice. Morocco today has a rare alignment: skills, infrastructure, market, international credibility. What it still lacks, perhaps, is the audacity to take the final step: moving from the world's factory to brand creator. And in a country where the collective imagination is powerful, it's no small thing to envision that one day, owning a car named Fassia, Hada, or Itto becomes more than a purchase, truly an act of adherence to a Moroccan national industrial project.

Doping: Move Beyond Fiction, Confront the Public Health Issue... 10013

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

GITEX Africa in Marrakech: Showcase of Ambition or Revealer of Contradictions? 9636

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

Motsepe, Tightrope Walker of African Football: Between Senegal and Morocco, Who is the True Winner of the 2025 AFCON? 9557

Aziz Daouda, 3 mon.
- Politics - Sports -
2.4 min read.
Patrice Motsepe's recent visit to Senegal and then Morocco was anything but casual or celebratory. Officially, it was a courtesy tour and follow-up on African football dossiers. Unofficially, it came amid simmering tensions over an explosive question: Who is the true winner of the 2025 AFCON? This edition left deep scars, with palpable disappointment already evident during the medal and trophy ceremony. Behind the forced smiles, a clear malaise: the title had been wrested by force. Recall: Morocco hosted an exemplary AFCON, filling CAF's coffers like never before, with sponsors galore, record attendance, unprecedented TV coverage, and elevated play thanks to unmatched infrastructure. But that ruffles feathers. Bitter jealousies and warning signs peaked in the final. Accustomed to the neighbor to the east's pathological provocations, Moroccans were stunned: the main saboteurs were their closest brothers, those they had welcomed most warmly, the Senegalese and Egyptians. In the final, spurred by an excitable coach, Senegal left the pitch over an unfounded refereeing controversy. Faced with certain facts, the act seems premeditated. Overheated Senegalese fans worsened the scene. What followed was a chaotic procedure. First, a disciplinary committee chaired by a Senegalese rejected Morocco's appeal, which challenged the result for non-compliance with regulations. It sanctioned minor on-field incidents while ignoring the blatant violation. Morocco overturned this verdict before the appeals jury, which restored the truth by applying CAF rules. Senegal, which had once benefited from a similar decision to qualify for the 2022 World Cup, only accepts refereeing that favors it. It rejected the ruling, issuing a state, not federal, statement accusing CAF of corruption. Implication: CAF corrupted, Morocco the corrupter. During his visits, then, Motsepe faced the inevitable: "Who is the 2025 AFCON winner?" In Senegal, his goal was clear: preserve ties with a continental football powerhouse. Facing President Bassirou Diomaye Faye, he reaffirmed CAF's respect for Senegalese institutions and their role in promoting African football, without mentioning corruption accusations, at least publicly. But the implicit message clearly aimed to curb Senegal's excessive defiant drift: heavy sanctions could follow otherwise. In Morocco, the tone shifted. True to form, Motsepe praised the Kingdom's structuring power. Facing the Royal Moroccan Football Federation and its president Fouzi Lekjaa, a CAF pillar and FIFA vice-president, he struck a laudatory note. Questioned on the sensitive issue, he found himself cornered: ruling would rekindle fractures. As CAF president, his role is to prevent a sports controversy from escalating into an institutional crisis. His hesitation reveals the complexity of a system where politics, symbolism, and sport intertwine. The AFCON is more than a competition: it's a lever for prestige and diplomacy, a field of regional rivalries. Morocco asserts itself as a football powerhouse through its performances, massive infrastructure investments generously shared with CAF and many African countries, academies like Mohammed VI's in Salé that export talent, and successful hosting of numerous men's and women's AFCONs. It is an indispensable CAF pillar. Motsepe's visit there felt like recognition, underscoring CAF's dependence on Morocco to advance African football. A constrained diplomacy is taking shape. These two stops expose, in practice, the limits of current African football governance: navigating political balances, economic stakes, and national ambitions on sight. Motsepe, a South African businessman turned sports executive, is no political finesse expert. His silence on the "true winner" reflects a reality: sporting truth often yields to diplomatic necessities. African football depends on states and their funding; alienating a country is suicidal. These two trips raise a crucial question: Does CAF remain a neutral body, or does it bow to its power centers? Senegal embodies sporting and historical legitimacy; Morocco adds investment and strategic vision. Motsepe implicitly maintains a fragile balance at the cost of silence and ambiguity. The crisis thus reveals the body's fragility. The tour won't settle the 2025 AFCON winner, that wasn't the goal, but it laid bare the strengths and especially the weaknesses of African football. A football that transcends the pitch. In this game, Motsepe is neither juggler nor dribbler: he is a tightrope walker. Yet he knows. He knows full well who will get the Cup and the $10 million that comes with it. He'll just avoid revealing it and getting booed. Thus, he'll remain welcome in both Senegal and Morocco. It's the CAS that will decide, not him... Coincidentally, FIFA has excluded Ndala, the "cursed" referee of the final who bore all the incompetence and excesses. A precursor sign before the Court of Arbitration for Sport's verdict?

Morocco-Egypt: Strategic Reunion or Fleeting Truce Beneath the Sands of Pragmatism? 9942

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

Brain Drain and Demographic Decline: Morocco's Silent Double Penalty... 10739

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

Morocco and the Trust Economy: The Invisible Capital of Development... 10395

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

Eternal Morocco, Unbreakable Morocco: The Identity That Triumphs Over Exile... 10986

Aziz Daouda, 4 mon.
- Politics - History - Society -
2.1 min read.
There are affiliations that geography dissolves over time, and others that it strengthens as distance sets in. The Moroccan experience undoubtedly falls into the second category. Across generations, sometimes up to the third or fourth, a phenomenon intrigues. Women and men born far from Morocco continue to recognize themselves in it, to feel attached to it, to project themselves into it. They have left the country or never lived there long-term; they were born far away, but Morocco has never left them. How to explain such persistence? Why does this loyalty cut across social classes, faiths, degrees of religiosity, and even nationalities acquired elsewhere? How is a memory so indelible? How does it withstand the test of time, distance, and new cultural acquisitions, if not through the profound weight of national consciousness? Morocco is not merely a modern state born from 20th-century recompositions. It is an ancient historical construct, shaped by centuries, even millennia, of political and civilizational continuity. Dynasties like the Almoravids, Almohads, Merinids, Saadians, or Alaouites forged a stable political and symbolic space whose permanence transcends apparent ruptures. This historical depth irrigates the collective imagination. It gives Moroccans, including those in the diaspora, the sense of belonging to a history that precedes and surpasses them. Being Moroccan is not just a nationality. It is an inscription in a continuity, a composite identity forged by inclusion. Moroccan identity has been built through sedimentation. It is Amazigh, African, Arab, Andalusian, Hebraic. These are layers that coexist in a singular balance, complementing and interweaving without exclusion. This ancient plurality explains Moroccans' ability to embrace diversity without identity rupture. Thus, a Jewish Moroccan in Europe or a naturalized Muslim elsewhere often shares a common affective reference to Morocco, not out of ignorance of differences, but because they fit into a shared historical and geographical framework. This inclusive identity enables a rarity: remaining deeply Moroccan without renouncing other affiliations, with the monarchy serving as a symbolic thread. In this complex architecture, the monarchy plays a structuring role. Under Mohammed VI, it embodies historical continuity and contemporary stability. For Moroccans abroad, the link to the Throne goes beyond politics. It touches the symbolic and the affective, a dimension fully grasped only by Moroccans. It acts as a fixed point in a shifting world, offering permanence amid changes in language, environment, or citizenship. This transmission occurs invisibly in the family, in rituals. It is not a memory but living, sensitive memories. The diffusion and transfer also manifest in cuisines with ancestral recipes, in music and sounds, in living rooms echoing with Darija, through summers "back home," gestures, intonations, moussems, or hiloulas. Moroccan identity is transmitted less through discourse than through sensory experiences: tastes, smells, rhythms, hospitality. Thus, generations born abroad feel a belonging not formally learned, an active loyalty blending affection and claimed will. The diaspora does not settle for abstract attachment. It acts. Financial transfers, investments, public commitments, and defense of Moroccan positions internationally bear witness. This operational patriotism extends affection into action, a duty to the nation, a Moroccan loyalty. Moroccans may be exiles, but never uprooted. For the Moroccan diaspora, attachment transcends oceans. Even in political, economic, or academic roles abroad, Moroccains carry their country of origin explicitly or implicitly. The otherness of host societies reinforces this identity. The external gaze consolidates this sense of belonging to a culture so distinctive that it crystallizes, is claimed, and magnified. This phenomenon, intense among Moroccans, compels us to name what went without saying in the homeland: a continuity at a distance. Neither frozen nostalgia nor mere inheritance, this relationship is a profound dynamic. Morocco is not just a place; it is the bond that spans generations, adapts without diluting, reminding us that exile does not undo all affiliations. Morocco is in our daily lives, in a perennial, solid, and unyielding memory that defies borders and time.

AFCON 2025: The Trophy that Sets the Savannah Ablaze.. 10347

Aziz Daouda, 4 mon.
- Politics - Society - Sports -
2.4 min read.
There are moments when football stops being a game and becomes a brutal revealer of a continent's institutional and political fragilities. The current crisis surrounding the Africa Cup of Nations (AFCON) is the perfect illustration. Between the rigorous application of regulations, the credibility of the Confederation of African Football (CAF), media pressure, and reactions from the Senegalese Football Federation, the affair now extends far beyond sports into a much broader realm, intertwining law, sovereignty, and diplomacy. At its origin, a disciplinary decision that, under normal circumstances, would have been a simple sporting dispute. But the context, symbolism, and players involved have turned this file into a full-blown crisis. The CAF, as the regulatory body, faces a fundamental demand: to enforce its own rules without yielding to pressure. Any weakness in applying the law would open the door to widespread challenges to its authority, including revisiting past decisions and verdicts. In this sense, the decision taken, however contested, fits into a logic of institutional preservation. However, law, as essential as it is, cannot be entirely divorced from its political and emotional environment. Today's events provide perfect proof. The Senegalese side's reaction, perceived as an offense or challenge to the decision, reveals a deeper malaise: a sense of injustice, real or supposed, amplified by a public opinion whipped into a frenzy by a flood of increasingly belligerent statements and remarks. Social media, TV panels, and certain official discourses have turned a legal matter into a symbolic clash between nations. In response, the Royal Moroccan Football Federation remains silent, stoic, calm, and discreet. This is where the main danger lies. Beyond texts and procedures, it is historical relations, built over decades of solidarity and brotherhood, that are now exposed to unnecessary tension. African football, long presented as a vector of unity, risks here becoming a factor of division. And this drift, if not contained, could leave lasting scars. That's precisely what the occult forces, or not so occult, stoking the fire are aiming for. In this climate of escalation, the temptation is great for each side to harden its position. Yet, the history of sports conflicts shows that escalation is rarely a solution. It weakens institutions, undermines competition credibility, and, above all, distances the public from the essentials: fair and credible play. The central question then becomes: how far will this showdown go? A peaceful outcome necessarily requires a return to calm and reason. This does not mean renouncing one's rights or silencing disagreements, but framing them in a controlled manner. Appeal mechanisms exist, whether through direct sports jurisdictions or, if necessary, the international body that is the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS). Its role is precisely to settle such disputes with impartiality and rigor. Awaiting the verdict from this body, even if it is slow, means accepting that law takes precedence over emotion. It also means recognizing that the credibility of African football's components depends on their ability to resolve disputes in line with the rules they have set for themselves. Any other path, pressure, excessive politicization, or media confrontation, would only entrench and worsen the crisis. At its core, this affair raises an essential question about the governance model for African football. A model subject to power plays and momentary emotions, or one based on solid, respected institutions capable of enforcing the law, even when it stings? Ultimately, African football bodies didn't fall from the sky. They are the emanation of a democratic process in which Africa's 54 countries participate in good conscience. The answer to this question will determine not only the outcome of this crisis but also the future of football on the continent. Beyond the present case, the credibility of an entire sports architecture is at stake. In the immediate term, one thing is clear: the time for appeasement must follow that of confrontation and escalation. Preserving the essentials and consolidating fraternity among African peoples is worth far more than a sports victory, even an Africa Cup of Nations trophy. Alas, this is beyond those whose vision doesn't extend past the end of their nose. The CAS will speak soon. Then we'll see who is right or wrong under strict application of the law, with no further recourse possible except a return to reason. Wouldn't it be better, in the meantime, to keep a cool head, maintain lucidity, and calm down? A trophy is only raised when it is deserved—truly deserved.