Morocco explained to the naive

This summer I did not return “home”, as Moroccan emigrants residing in Europe say, because I understood long ago that my little Morocco (that of my grandparents, the aunts who kissed me so hard it hurt, the flood of cousins who gathered at the family home every summer) is inside the great Morocco, the authoritarian dictatorship that leads the destiny of the Maghrebis since the country obtained independence. Independence from European colonizers, but not from another foreign domination –insofar as it is alien to the general interests of the population– like that of the Alaouite regime, with Hassan II and now Mohamed VI (and God save us from the heir, Hassan III).

I will not set foot again in the country where I was born because it is not a safe place for anyone who defends human rights and freedom of expression or denounces the abuses committed by the makhzen. Not to mention Islam, untouchable even though the Prince of Believers, the king, whose power is legitimized by religious reasons (he is supposed to be a descendant of Muhammad), leads a lifestyle that is, let’s say, not very Muslim. The motto of Morocco, with which its national anthem ends, is: "Homeland! King! God!" (written in large letters on some barren mountains, as if it were “Hollywood”). And these three pillars are untouchable and criticizing or mocking them can be a criminal offense.

Last year Ignacio Cembrero explained the case of a housewife, mother of four children, sentenced to four years in prison for making a joke on Facebook after learning that the gas cylinder was going up in price again. Her crime? Showing a 50 dirham bill and saying: “Not even with three kings can I pay for a gas cylinder” (because on the 50 bill there is the image of the last three kings of Morocco). The case of Bety Lachgar, sentenced to prison for wearing a t-shirt in London with the slogan “Allah is lesbian”, demonstrates that the tentacles of Moroccan surveillance extend beyond its borders.

Tourists who enjoy the exoticism of Marrakech and the hospitality of the inhabitants of a country that is “so close and so far away” (a hospitality they admire greatly but do not import) do not see or do not want to see how the kind and helpful indigenous people who serve them live. May the prisons packed with political dissidents or simple critics of power or corruption or the lack of rights and freedoms not spoil their weekend getaway. Journalists, leaders of social movements, activists, anyone who dares to stand up to the regime or point out its corrupt functioning runs the risk of being prosecuted and imprisoned. The latest movement that challenged the power, the Hirak, born in the Rif, has a good part of its protagonists in prison, including the charismatic Nasser Zefzafi. In July, journalist Ali Lmrabet, who has spent decades in intense combat against the abuses of the Alawite dictatorship, was arrested when he set foot in Morocco, accused of several crimes, all of them related to expression. Three days later he was released but with the judicial case pending.

It is surprising, then, that the Spanish government asserts with forcefulness that Morocco has not been involved in the massive entry of people into Ceuta this summer. And it is of a naivety (if we assume good faith) that causes embarrassment, taking into account that before the technological era the country already had secret services capable of detecting the most minuscule movement that occurred in any corner of its territory, which has spied on foreign leaders with Pegasus, and which has eyes and ears everywhere. And also taking into account that border control is a responsibility for which, furthermore, it receives substantial income from the European Union. Deceived and paying the bill, as we say in Catalan.