I have now been living in Morocco for about five months. This semester, living with a local imam and his family in the traditional medina of Rabat, I have witnessed even more the deep-seated religiosity that colors the daily life of many Moroccans. Even after two months of my home-stay next door to the corner mosque, I still wake up half-reluctantly and half-amused a few times a week at 5:00 a.m. to the sounds of the call to prayer. An hour or two later, my host sister’s alarm clock blasts more Qur'anic verses. Religion, as observed by my host family, seems simple, apolitical ,and deeply personal; yet in the political realm religion is not so clear cut.
King Mohammed VI holds the official title of commander of the faithful. There is no disputing that Islam is at the center of this society. But as the Moroccan leadership aims to bolster its reputation as America's oldest ally and the most moderate, peace-loving Muslim country, fundamentalism is rearing head, placing Moroccan leadership in a difficult position. The Moroccan exception to extremism that for years was highly lauded by Moroccans ended with the May 16, 2003 Casablanca suicide bombings, which targeted the Jewish community and killed 45.
My Moroccan professors tell me that Mohammed VI aims to make a clear distinction between his reign and the era of oppression, mass arrests, and forced disappearances from 1961 to 1999, or the "years of lead," under his father Hassan II. Yet the more I learn about this Moroccan struggle between moderate Islam and the pressures to appear progressive and pro-Western on the one hand and the emerging pockets of fundamentalism on the other, the less I believe Mohammed VI is succeeding. I have not come to these conclusions on my own—a mere few months in this country by no means qualifies me to judge its domestic policy—but through discussions and interviews with individuals in the Moroccan human rights community.
As part of my School for International Training (SIT) academic program, I am currently researching the Moroccan reconciliation experience that followed the reign of Hassan II. I want to know if human rights activists and family members of victims of these years of lead—imprisoned and disappeared left-wing student protesters, outspoken journalists, unionists—think that Morocco has truly left this era of oppression behind and that truth and justice has been served through the work of Morocco's Equity and Reconciliation Commission of 2004. What I find, however, is in some facets disconcerting.
One of the human rights activists I interview, the grown daughter of a former political prisoner of seven years, tells me that the commission began its work in the wake of the Casablanca bombings and following the inauguration of a, in her words, "repressive law against supposed terrorists that took away many rights and liberties." A truth and reconciliation commission, she tells me, should exist in a more open context.
Her concerns are echoed by other activists I speak with who are also wary of the state's zealous, and perhaps overly aggressive, efforts to combat extremism. After the May 2003 bombings, some 2,000 people were rounded up on suspected charges related to the attacks. My interviewees also tell me that in the years following the bombings and still today, mass arrests and ill-treatment of supposedly extremist Moroccans has continued. It seems that the left-wing students and unionists persecuted under Hassan II in the 1960s and 1970s have something in common with the modern Moroccan fundamentalists.
From what I see in my daily life and interactions in Morocco and from what I have learned thus far through my research, the Moroccan government is walking a very tight rope. The monarchy wants to move beyond authoritarianism and protect and nurture its ties to the West; yet to do this means to squelch fundamentalism insofar as it poses a threat to the safety and stability of Moroccan society and the monarchy. And, to keep this threat at bay has meant reinstating some of the very same tactics Mohammed VI has vowed to veer away from—mass arrests and repression. All the while, the king remains commander of the faithful of a devout Muslim nation whose people by and large would much prefer to return to those interim years of nonviolence after Hassan II and before the bombings of May 16, 2003 shattered the Moroccan exception.
It is an unsettling time for Morocco, and I sense that tension being here. This pious and moderate nation is no longer immune to extremism, and the king is consequently up against some difficult choices in his efforts to maintain stability. The human rights activists condemn the measures the state has taken to combat extremism but, then again, no one wants to see another May 16. This climate reminds me of my own society, the Patriot Act, post-9-11 America, profiling of airport passengers...I can't say that I have answers for either country, but through my observations and research here I am gaining more insight into the sometimes markedly different and other times strikingly similar struggles of each nation.
My Moroccan professors tell me that Mohammed VI aims to make a clear distinction between his reign and the era of oppression, mass arrests, and forced disappearances from 1961 to 1999, or the "years of lead," under his father Hassan II. Yet the more I learn about this Moroccan struggle between moderate Islam and the pressures to appear progressive and pro-Western on the one hand and the emerging pockets of fundamentalism on the other, the less I believe Mohammed VI is succeeding. I have not come to these conclusions on my own—a mere few months in this country by no means qualifies me to judge its domestic policy—but through discussions and interviews with individuals in the Moroccan human rights community.
As part of my School for International Training (SIT) academic program, I am currently researching the Moroccan reconciliation experience that followed the reign of Hassan II. I want to know if human rights activists and family members of victims of these years of lead—imprisoned and disappeared left-wing student protesters, outspoken journalists, unionists—think that Morocco has truly left this era of oppression behind and that truth and justice has been served through the work of Morocco's Equity and Reconciliation Commission of 2004. What I find, however, is in some facets disconcerting.
One of the human rights activists I interview, the grown daughter of a former political prisoner of seven years, tells me that the commission began its work in the wake of the Casablanca bombings and following the inauguration of a, in her words, "repressive law against supposed terrorists that took away many rights and liberties." A truth and reconciliation commission, she tells me, should exist in a more open context.
Her concerns are echoed by other activists I speak with who are also wary of the state's zealous, and perhaps overly aggressive, efforts to combat extremism. After the May 2003 bombings, some 2,000 people were rounded up on suspected charges related to the attacks. My interviewees also tell me that in the years following the bombings and still today, mass arrests and ill-treatment of supposedly extremist Moroccans has continued. It seems that the left-wing students and unionists persecuted under Hassan II in the 1960s and 1970s have something in common with the modern Moroccan fundamentalists.
From what I see in my daily life and interactions in Morocco and from what I have learned thus far through my research, the Moroccan government is walking a very tight rope. The monarchy wants to move beyond authoritarianism and protect and nurture its ties to the West; yet to do this means to squelch fundamentalism insofar as it poses a threat to the safety and stability of Moroccan society and the monarchy. And, to keep this threat at bay has meant reinstating some of the very same tactics Mohammed VI has vowed to veer away from—mass arrests and repression. All the while, the king remains commander of the faithful of a devout Muslim nation whose people by and large would much prefer to return to those interim years of nonviolence after Hassan II and before the bombings of May 16, 2003 shattered the Moroccan exception.
It is an unsettling time for Morocco, and I sense that tension being here. This pious and moderate nation is no longer immune to extremism, and the king is consequently up against some difficult choices in his efforts to maintain stability. The human rights activists condemn the measures the state has taken to combat extremism but, then again, no one wants to see another May 16. This climate reminds me of my own society, the Patriot Act, post-9-11 America, profiling of airport passengers...I can't say that I have answers for either country, but through my observations and research here I am gaining more insight into the sometimes markedly different and other times strikingly similar struggles of each nation.
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