mouradanouar

Has Morocco become a safe haven for paedophiles?

2013-08-01T15:23:00.000-07:00

For years, East Africa and South America have been havens of choice for most wanted criminals who escaped their countries. In Middle East, Saudi Arabia proudly harbored a number of dictators and controversial political leaders such Uganda's Idi Amin, Pakistan's Nawaz Sharif and Pervez Musharraf, Tunisia's Zine Abidine Ben Ali, all of whom are, or have bee, sought for justice in their home countries.

In Morocco, a country of extremes and eccentric trends, the judicial system is geared toward becoming a

safe haven for paedophiles. I am afraid, God forbids, that we are close to be tolerant of a very despicable and heinous crime.

If you don't know what I am talking about, here are the bad news : Last Tuesday, a convicted paedophile from Spain were pardoned by King Mohamed VI at the request of Spain's King Juan Carlos who visited Morocco last month.

With the royal pardon for a Spanish paedophile serving a 30-year sentence for raping 11 children in Morocco, I am afraid the kingdom is geared toward becoming a sheltered haven for adults who are sexually attracted to children.

I hope, as many Moroccans, that this unfortunate move on the part of the royal palace will not be perceived overseas, especially in the underworld of these sick paedophiles, as a signal for them to come in flocks to Morocco without having to worry about being prosecuted as a royal pardon might be guaranteed after spending some of their terms in prison.

The royal pardon appears to be by no means appreciated by Moroccans from all of walks of life. In fact, it was condemned thoroughly, especially through social media where a frenzy of angry postings has flooded facebook and twitter, two social media in case.

Also, Morocco's famous February 20 movement's activists, who organised anti-government protests during the Arab unrest of 2011, have called for Friday's rally in Rabat, Morocco's capital.

Apparently, the anger among Moroccans, who seem very ashamed that their judicial system have betrayed them, not being able to protect their little ones, is to escalate amidst total disregard on the part of the government. And most likely, if not surely, Ben Kirane's government is going to do nothing since the latter has no power over the king's constitutional pardon. In other words, Ben Kirane is surely as mad as the rest of Moroccans, who are not appreciative of the royal pardon, nor are they able to do something about it.

At the end, before teaming up against these monsters who prowl playgrounds, parks, schools and the like stalking children for sex, we, people, human rights activists, politicians, anti-pedophile groups, etc. should launch a campaign to pressure the government to issue a new law making paedophilia unpardonable for whatever reason including the royal pardon.

We either choose to be committed to protecting our children from these truly evil people, or be a a safe haven for paedophiles and the next victim will be your child.

2012-03-27T17:15:00.000-07:00

Obedience to Authority: If you were Fadia Hamdi, would you slap Mohamed Bouazizi?

By Mourad Anouar

Oklahoma City, March 23, 2012

Another question would be: if you were Mohamed Bouazizi, would you set yourself alight? If I am allowed to write our contemporary Arab World history with all its complexities and incomputable failures, the timeline would start from the moment when Mohamed Bouazizi’s self-immolation inspired revolution in and out of Tunisia, resulting in the unseating of the region’s brutal dictators. For the first time, millions of Arabs took to the streets demanding change after they felt emboldened by Bouazizi’s selfless act of heroism. Any fool can make history, but it takes a genius to write it as Oscar Wilde said. The fool in our Arab World context is Fadia Ahmed whose sense of haughtiness and power abuse outweighed her sense of human dignity, justice and respect for others. Hamdi, when she slapped and humiliated Bouazizi, was just a manifestation of the rulers’ whip to silence anybody who dares confront any form of authority. Bouazizi, on the other hand, exemplifies the genius and soul that has kept mankind striving for equality, justice and dignity for all throughout history.

And if you ask Fadia Hamdi why she abused Bouazizi, the famous fruit and vegetables vendor, she would definitely tell you that she was just doing her job. In other words, she would explain her inhumane act as obedience to authority. No wonder that the same explanation was given by Adolf Eichmann when he was reported to say, according to New York Times(1999), during his trial in Jerusalem in 1961”Now that I look back, I realize that a life predicated on being obedient and taking orders is a very comfortable life indeed. Living in such a way reduces to a minimum one’s own need to think.’

Eichmann’s failure to show any remorse for what he did reminded me of a must read book for anybody who wants to know more about the psychology behind the issue of obedience to authority. Entitled obedience to authority, the book was based on the findings of a very interesting and thorough study that was carried out between 1961 and 1962 at Yale by the book’s same writerStanley Milgram. Traumatized by the Holocaust atrocities and being a son of a holocaust survivor, Milgram recruited more than 1,000 participants from all walks of life to help in finding new ways to improve memory through punishment, which would help in the education process. Some participants were selected to be teachers and others to be learners. The latter were strapped into a chair with electrodes attached to their arms. Placed in separate rooms and communicated without seeing each other, both teachers and learners (confederates) were told that the electrodes were attached to an electric chock generator, and that any incorrect answers from the learners would be punished by getting painful shocks from the teachers, but no permanent tissue damage would happen. What none of them knew was that in reality no shocks were administered.

The results of this psychological experiment were groundbreaking. Although many subjects showed signs of tension, three of them had “full-blown, uncontrollable seizures”, forty subjects obeyed up to 300 volts. Shockingly, twenty five of the forty subjects went up to give a maximum level of 450 volts. The study teaches us that while some of us could be seduced, initiated into becoming agents in terribly destructive process, and without any particular hostility on their part, others may refrain from doing so thanks to their moral compass. Milgram thought (2009) that”The disappearance of a sense of responsibility is the most far-reaching consequence of submission to authority.” About a decade later, Milgram come to conclude in television that “If a system of death camps were set up in the United States of the sort we had seen in the Nazi Germany, one would be able to find sufficient personnel for those camps in any medium-sized American town”

Milgram’s prophetic words were somehow true as around that time in Morocco Ahmed Marzouki, along with other fifty eight military officers, was locked away for more than 18 years in Morocco’s notorious desert prison known as Tazmamart. Marzouki and his inmates were exposed to the harshest forms of torture, oppression, mistreatment and emotional degrading by sadist guards. In his book Cellule 10 as translated by Orlando Valérie (2009), Marzouki spoke about the Hitchcockian scenes he witnessed there “We spent more than 18 years locked up in the dark, each of us in a narrow cell. Twenty nine of us were in each of the two buildings. The food we were given by the guards three times a day was insufficient to survive; we had five liters of water a day as drinking water, for washing ourselves and for cleaning the hole in the floor we had to relieve ourselves in.” The irony of Ahmed Marzouki’s story is while he was just following orders, as he claimed, when was caught involved in the 1971 coup in Skhirat [near capital Rabat], he was tortured by others who will surely tell you that they did what they were ordered to do. In the name of obedience to authority, both, his guards and he, did the most despicable acts without batting an eyelid. It is the fear that is instilled inside some of us through different channels that make them see obedience to authority as being dutiful citizens even if they do immoral and inhumane acts.Charles P. Snow explained (1961) that “When you think of the long and gloomy history of man, you will find that far more, and far more hideous, crimes have been committed in the name of obedience than have ever been committed in the name of rebellion”

Obedience to authority raises also the question of doing acts of violence in certain circumstances. While some would deem it legitimate when a policeman pulls the trigger and guns down an armless but violent robber who breaks into a certain house, others would argue killing the armless intruder outweighs the danger imposed. The first argument holds that the violence would not have happened if we did have such situational context. That in mind, one should sincerely ask the following question: Would I kill Jews in Nazi Germany, slap Bouazzi, mistreat Marzouki, gas the Kurds in Halabja, shoot a helpless and unthreatening kid like Ahmed Al-Dorra, or sexually humiliate the prisoners in Abu Ghraib?

In the riveting movie ‘The Experiment’, twenty three men were chosen to participate in the roles of guards and prisoners in a psychological study led by Dr. Archaleta to simulate a prison environment. With a select few playing guards and the bulk of the group playing convicts, each participant was promised to receive $14,000 after two weeks. A few basic rules were both given to the prisoners and the guards where the former must obey the latter at all times, while the guards are told to exact punishment for infractions in any matter short of physical abuse. Unfortunately, the study ultimately spirals out of control when one of the prisoners, Travis (Adrian Brody), started showing defiance and lack of obedience toward any type of authority. Considering him the leader of dissent, Barris (Forest Whitaker), ordered other guards to shave Travis’s head and urinate on him later on. The whole movie was about how far a man could inflict all types of sadistic acts on his fellow ones. Toward the end of the movie, after everybody was released and got $14000, Travis’s girlfriend notices that her boyfriend’s knuckles are bruised due to his constant brawling with the guards. An attentive viewer of the movie would connect this ending scene with beginning one when she noted that his knuckles are pristine, an indication that he was unable to do any types of violent acts at the time.

People like Fadia Hamdi, Eichmann, Marzouki’s guards, Abd Majid Ali chemical, Mohamed Al Dorra’s shooter, Lynndie England and the like share the same distorted notion of looking at obedience to authority as signs of conformity, prestige, discipline and duty. Even when it is abused, it would still be tolerated as long as order in society is maintained according to their logic. Klaus Fischer noted (2008) that “it is important to realize that the SS (social security) was perceived by most Germans, especially those who joined its various branches, as a noble elite order that only accepted the brightest and the best. This was part of the Nazi policy of pubic deception, of enshrouding aggression and immoral goals in the noblest form of Idealism.”

As the Arab Spring seems to be still reverberating through Middle East, one can’t help but hope to see more people like Bouazizi who have the ability and courage to defy authority when it is unjust and abusive. Meanwhile, we need also people who are, unlike Fadia Hamdi, rational beings and good examples of authority, not mindless machines. Commenting on the Arab sociology pioneer Ibn khaldoun’s view on obedience to authority, Philip Khoury (1990) noted that ‘he (Ibn Khaldoun) concedes the possibility that obedience to authority also exists “among dumb animas”(such as bees) but insists that in humans, to the contrary, this obedience is founded on the ability to reason and in the exercise of free will. Humans voluntarily agree to submit to a higher authority because their practical reason convince them of wisdom of the choice”

While trying to lead a decent life, Mr. Bouazizi was constantly harassed by the Fadia Hamdi and others. Like millions in Middle East, he could have let it go without having to lose his life, but people like him envision life different from what most people do. Life, according to Bouazizi, means more than just live a peaceful life, bring food home and obey authority even when it is unjust. He wanted, instead, to bring back a dignity that had been stolen from him, and us, for decades, if not centuries.

References.

1-Cohen, Roger. “Why? New Eichmann Notes Try to Explain.” New York Times [New Work] 13 08 1999, n. pag. Web. 23 Mar. 2012. <http://www.nytimes.com/1999/08/13/world/why-

2-Milgram, Stanley. Obedience to Authority. reprint, illustrated. 224 pages. New York: HarperCollins, 2009. 8. Print.

3-Orlando, Valérie. Francophone Voices of the “New” Morocco in Film and Print:. illustrated. 262 pages. New York: Macmillan, 2009. 61. Print.

4-Charles P. Snow, The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution . London: Cambridge University Press, 1961. 195. Print.

5-Klaus, Fischer. The history of an obsession:. 532. Michigan: the University of Michigan, 2008. 266. Print.

6- Philip Shukry Khoury, Joseph Kostiner, First. Tribes and state formation in the Middle East. 351. Berkeley: University of California Press,, 1990. 86. Print.

http://moroccoworldnews.com/2012/03/obedience-to-authority-if-you-were-fadia-hamdi-would-you-slap-mohamed-bouazizi/32585

2012-03-21T14:11:00.000-07:00

Everything There but Me: Short Story

By Mourad Anouar

Oklahoma City, March 19, 2012

“Home in indifferent eyes of some men and women waiting for the bus around 7.00 a.m. that morning to go to work or school, home was between the little room left between the two backs of two homeless men sleeping on a tick-infested patched up rug near a dumpster, home was felt and carried on the steps of an old lady pushing her cart down the same street where she usually sold her mouth-watering bread whose smell was too intoxicating to pass up. In the same street, few schoolgirls seemed to banter about something interesting, something like schoolwork, but for me it was something like home; home was engraved in the hands of an old hard-working man looking like coming back home from an overnight job, home just wafted through the thronged streets that the taxi cab had to cruise through to get me in time to the airport,”

I don’t remember I was offered an opportunity to prioritize “home or no-home”. But I still remember that the above unedited lines were written with a sickening longing that suddenly engulfed me when I looked out of the plane window as we took off heading toward Florence, Alabama in 2003. For me home was neither a choice handed to me on a silver platter nor was I stripped of it, while I enjoyed ogling at a passing beauty. The ad lib words revealed a sincere moment in my life where I was on the brink of falling into an emotional breakdown. The cloying repetition of the word home may suggest rather nostalgic moments for expats, or a tendency on my part to convey my romanticizing with skipped parts of my life.

Tuesday morning, October, 10, 2003, was not like the other days of the year. I remember I had trouble sleeping. I was nervous, fidgety, tossing and turning, kicking constantly my bed edge in my new China-made Nike socks. Around 5.30pm, I heard some heavy steps crossing the hallway toward the living-room. The steps were of nobody but mom. She usually woke up around that time to do the dawn prayer. Not sure though, I stumbled out of my bed to investigate the commotion. It was just my mom. I peeked through my room’s door, ajar, to enjoy how she beautifully perform her acts of worship. Half an hour or so afterwards, everybody was awake in the house even our lazy furry cat, Mimi. There was too much noise, but it was enjoyable for me. I sat on a second-hand sofa in the living-room with my two bags nearby. We had a quick but big breakfast: Scrambled eggs cooked in olive oil, pure honey as always my mom stressed, black olives and homemade bread with sprinkled sesame on top.

The delicious breakfast was interrupted by the taxi’s honking outside our house. Perhaps, he surmised we were still asleep, craning with his neck through the slightly open door of our house, the taxi driver yelled at us to hurry up in a demanding way. That is when I leaped to my feet out of the sunken sofa, and I spontaneously started exchanging hugs with my five brothers and one sister, and I left my mom to be the last one to say goodbye. My brothers’ and sisters’ eyes told me that they had cried somewhere away from each other’s and me. At the doorstep now, while my big brother was haggling with the taxi cab driver over the trip cost from El Jadida to Casablanca, Annoyed by their abuzz skirmish nearby, I thought about interfering with bringing them together, but I was too afraid to risk a slew of personal invectives from my perpetually moody brother. I was rather preoccupied with a slow-paced moment of streaming tears that I had delayed all the months I knew I was going to America. Unlike my brothers, I cried in front of them all, for I could not resist the moment’s gravity or their sympathetic eyes. Everybody stood transfixed as I paraded out my two bags and a carry-on suitcase.

The ensuing events were nothing but soaked, to the brim, in tears and sadness. But we, my family and I, were able to get out of it with a less emotionally harmful exodus. I still don’t know how I mustered up a new-found courage to exit safely from this sad moment, which I carried with me into the waiting taxi outside. After that, I only recall how the taxi driver hit the gas, rounded a bend and drove off without caring if wanted to wave at my family from the car’s backseat window.

Curving to the left, the taxi driver drove past the Post Office, the Medina Theater, and then swerved to the right toward the road that ran in parallel row with the El Jadida’s beautiful seaside known as the palm tree street. That is where my eye caught spy of the medieval-looking cathedral of Saint Eugene.

Saint Eugene’s cathedral must have been an impressive sight in its day as it is still now. The building reflected its builder’s large-than-life personality. With its domed roof and overlooking the blue Atlantic Ocean, the place stood defiant at the heart of El Jadida. The common grandiosity between the two entities, between nature and human achievement, only few could pay attention to. Despite the overabundance of moss and alfalfa that covered most of its big-sized lot, there remained some beauty amidst its overall dilapidated condition.

Over years, “word was’ that Saint Eugene’s cathedral was haunted by some restless spirits. People claimed to hear noises, midnight singing and more emanating from there. There was something menacing about the place that kept everybody’s imaginations elaborating on some frightening and sometimes ridiculous ghost stories that allegedly happened around there. One of these stories claimed that two boys who happened to play soccer in the vicinity of the cathedral when one of them booted the ball away to wobble through the air, sail past the other’s boy head over the cathedral’s gate to finally crash into one of its windows. One of the boys, brazen, was goaded into retrieving the errant ball. Abetted by his friend to scale the cathedral’s red brick wall, as the story goes, the courageous boy pried open a weather-beaten French door and stepped into what was going to be his last known whereabouts. Some cynics, though, argued that the made up ghost stories were channeled by some unknown religious extremists years ago through El Jadida in an attempt to get the place razed and replaced with a new magnificent mosque.

All these uncaused streams of memories and more took place in the backseat of taxi cab. Reminiscing about the old days of the cathedral was entertaining for me, and a technique I used numerous times to kill time, but for today it served to only lighten me up a bit.

Usually it would take an hour and half to get to the Mohamed V Airport in Casablanca, but Mr. Brahim, the taxi driver, I still remember his name till now, was just like other Moroccan taxi drivers who thought their cars are made to fly too. He did the trip in an hour as I counted it in his stereo clock. With maximum velocity, columns of burned oil trailing behind, a blaring noise of a music band I never heard of and a daredevil-style driving, his face features suggested he set out to break a personal record. Thank God, we all made it safe to the airport.

The moment I stepped into the plane, I knew it was too late for me to back off. The flight ticket was purchased two weeks before, and the clothes my family afforded to buy me were already neatly folded and arranged nicely by my mom in my new travel bags. The plane ascent was felt as I was falling into a bottomless pit, a sensation I translated later as disbelief. I could not believe I was sneaking the love I had nurtured for my country for years out to another land. Had the customs let me carry everything I could, I would carry my home, my family, friends and all my memories. How many freighters would I need to carry the incalculable number of memories and an eventful life in Morocco? I wondered.

Next to me in the plane sat an old lady with a wrinkled face and a genuinely blond hair. I wondered how on earth you could have such contrast. I tried to figure out how age could intrude on her face but was lenient with her hair. After minutes of thinking it over, I had to accept that age, as humans, could err also especially taking in account the number of world population. I had to believe a made up joke of mine, I thought age could have mistaken her for another women.

Apathetic, Ms. Blackburn, as she told me her name was with a southern accent when we reached Huntsville airport in Alabama, was reading an old National Geographic magazine as the quality of the papers indicated: it was a story about the aborigines of Australia.

She seemed to like what she was reading as her eyeballs bulged out now and then. And whenever she came across an exotic photo, she would lift the magazine up close to her eyes to see it better. Poor old woman. Her weak fingers flipped through the magazine pages with difficulty. I wished I could help her with something. I would not hesitate, I thought, to grab the magazine and read it out for her, while she could lounge on her seat.

I arrived in America exactly in October, 11, 2003, three few years after September 11 when being or looking Middle Eastern would cause you some uneasiness, verbal abuse or in the worst cases assault by some prejudiced Americans. And guess what: I went to the State of Alabama, which is very infamous for being one of the most prejudiced States in America. I was worried; a little scared to be honest. The American Airline 550 aircraft landed atHuntsville International Airport right on schedule at 3.30 p.m to a slightly cold day. After dealing with all the customs hassle, I found myself waiting for my bags at baggage carousel. There, I met again Ms. Blackburn holding tightly to a pushing cart to keep a standing posture. When she noticed I was around, she approached me, while she still clung to the cart. I had a quick and jovial conversation with her, and I was surprised to learn that she was going to the same city I was headed to. What a coincidence? I whispered to myself and at the same time I tried to practice my one year English at the University of Shouaib Doukkali.

“You looked nervous and worried when we were in the plane”, she told me.

“Yes”, I replied.

“Hold on”, I told myself, what? I wondered how she knew I was nervous or worried, knowing she never looked at me all the long hours we flew across the Atlantic Ocean. So strange. But I realized that it might be the unmistakably divine gift that enables mothers to sense all our feelings without having to look us in the eye.Her true words set my worn out memory in motion and left me pondering, remembering every moment, since I hugged my mom, sister and brothers at the doorstep, the moment when we drove one hour from El Jadida to Casablanca and when I finally stepped into the plane. I remembered when I desperately tried to store into my saturated memory some pictures of Morocco as the fuselage gradually dipped into the sky wide clouds. I remembered as I scanned Morocco’s boundless terrain, the exquisite shorelines, a seemingly stray stork and other beautiful things, I could see almost everything there but me.

Now after 9 years here, happy sometimes and sad at times, I admit I tried numerous times to tame my sense of longing to the point where I could live a peaceful life, devoid of any humanly added drama. In other words, I managed to compromise between an invincible nostalgia and an admitted enjoyment I experienced in my new stay. Every time fear or worry reigned over me, I would responsively rally my exhausted memory to remember my mom’s sincere prayers that she told me the moment I hopped into the taxi cab. Her powerful words served as a protective aura that accompanied me through the years I have been away from home. Her prayers were the magical wand I utilized whenever I ran into closed doors, into moments of despair. Whenever I was down, or sometimes moved to tears, I would feel reanimated as soon as my soul and mom’s went through some sort of telepathy.

Ms. Blackburn was driven home by her son who was waiting for her at the airport. She was gone, but her remark about me being worried and nervous, while we were in the plane always remained cryptic, open to all interpretations but to one that could soothe my, then, ailing soul. Unable to come up with any answer, I decided instead to put it out of my mind and look for a taxi cab that would take me from Huntsville to my new, unknown yet, home in Florence.

http://moroccoworldnews.com/2012/03/everything-there-but-me-short-story/31869

2012-03-20T17:33:00.001-07:00

Too Many Chiefs Not Enough Indians

By Mourad Anouar

Oklahoma City, March 14, 2012

“Too many chiefs, not enough Indians” is a very telling proverb that nobody knows exactly its originator except it is American. One of its meanings is the fact of having too many bosses, but not enough workers. It could also mean the fact of having too many people who warn us nonstop about the woes of living in a morally decayed society, while these phony people of virtue are the ones who are scandalous and morally corrupt.

The reason I brought this anonymous saying up here because the “too many chiefs “are so many to count in Morocco, while we seem to lack “Indians”. The latter represents the absence of people whose actions mirror their beliefs and convictions. Sad to say, our society is teeming with hypocrites who don’t bother to tell us how important we all need to change our society for a better one while they are themselves working on decaying it. Béla Szabados and Eldon Soifer (2004) think that “hypocrites can be seen as displaying one set of standards in their preaching, and another in their practice. They may condemn others for motives or actions which they themselves indulge in” (p. 352)

Although the saying connotes some racial overtones in its birthplace, my intention here is nothing but to raise awareness about this topic among Moroccans who often come in close contact with the “too many chiefs”. I would also like to remind them of those who seem to lack a connection between what they preach and how they live their daily lives. I am afraid that some of us tend to represent themselves as saints, while we relentlessly cover up a dark side of our lives.

The saying so much reflects our nowadays troubled country where we encounter hypocrites on a daily basis. Every one of us must have stories with or of such people whose credibility will not only be lost as soon as their true character is exposed, but their actions bring about a widespread sense of reciprocal mistrust among people which would result as well in a very tight knit circle of people in whom we trust.

Examples of “too many chiefs” that dominate our lives are numerous. Some of us were raised and brought up in a society where their parents teach them to be slick, not intelligent. Our kids lead their lives with the notion that a smart kid is the one who outwits his peers, fools and swindles something valuable out of them. Such parenting creates confusion among little ones and makes them develop a distorted understanding of different concepts. We would usually be praised from parents and peers for exhibiting such socially accepted practices. Moroccan writer Muhammad Hanafi (2005) confirms that” “we find even inside family relationships, in the framework of one single family, hatcheries of producing hypocrisy where the latter becomes a condition for both establishing a good marriage relationship and helping with maintaining it to the end”

As we embark on another important transition in our lives when we reach the age to go to school, we came face to face with people who are supposed to shape our thinking. Teachers teach us, among other things, to be more productive and hard-working, while some of them were not even on time when they come to school. And even when they are in class, we see some of them are busy doing a crossword puzzle or reading unrelated-class books. They teach us to abide by the law and they are the first to break it. They break it when they teach us to fear them, rather than respect them. They rob us of a sense of believing in ourselves whenever we instinctually dare contract them on any given issue. They vehemently defend the myth that teachers are always right and students are wrong. They transgress our basic human right to think critically and analytically. I remember one teacher who was a fan of the Arab poet Antar Ben Shaddad’s poetry, especially the verses that extol the virtues of honesty and bravery, but we all were shocked to know he had an affair with another teacher. Before we knew about his scandal, all of us had looked up to him as a role model in a very critical period of our adolescent lives, where we sought a compass-like figure to guide us through.

Away from Morocco, another form of hypocrisy takes place overseas where I have met many Moroccan friends who would make sure to observe the month of Ramadan and try to do all the rituals that come with it, but as soon this holy month is out, they would allow themselves to drink alcohol and have sex before marriage, while they still claim to be practicing Muslims.

Speaking of religion, we just had an incident that caused rage in Morocco where the name of a reputed religious figure was revealed to the public, which was furious at the fact that he undeservedly benefited from the Moroccan government’s commercial transportation licenses, while he was a steadfast advocate of fighting corruption and favoritism. Imam Zemzami is certainly not the only one in Morocco who preached to the masses about how important one should maintain a life of modesty, content and moral straightforwardness, while he or she indulges in all of the sensuous pleasures of life

The reason I focused on parents, teachers and religious figures more than any other segment of society because I believe the three, our teachers, parents and religious figures, are the ones who give us the sense of who we are. They are so important in our lives that no country could prosper and develop without having great teachers, educated and sincere parents and broad-minded and honest preachers. We need teachers who raise compelling questions, not threatening sticks. Our students need teachers to teach them how to reason and explore all horizons. The types of teachers who serve as liberating forces in our lives, not mediums of establishing fear, blind obedience and memories of dishonesty and hypocrisy. The religious clerks that we all strive to hear on Friday sermons are those who believe in every virtue they preach. And before they dare mention it, they should ask themselves if they have the ability and conviction to stick to it.

As any other society, Morocco has bad apples that exist in most society sectors and corners throughout the country. But our increasingly crippled economy and ill society are undeniably indicative of having too many bad apples in our groove. The reality is that bad apples are abundant because we have a fertile soil for them. We are to blame for providing all means for them to grow and ripen. And since it is never late to change, it is up to us to pick out the bad apples and do away with them, everybody on his way. I am sure readers have many similar stories that revolve around the same topic of people who are “too many chiefs”. One can no longer wait but to throw off the restraints of these fake norms in our hypocritical society where many malpractices are rewarded and praised. If we free ourselves of the stultifying pressure and moral bullying of such morally dysfunctional society and people, we would be able to proudly and openly condemn ourselves before others.

It is in such society where prostitution is relatively tolerated, while Muhammad Shukri’s book for break Alone would be banned and deemed morally inappropriate for its sexual frankness. It is ironic that our hypocritical society could “coexist” with prostitutes who are anathema to most of us, but it was hard for us to let people read a book that presents our society as it is with no makeup.

References

Béla Szabados, Eldon Soifer. (2004) Hypocrisy: ethical investigations, Buffalo, NY: Broadview Press.

http://moroccoworldnews.com/2012/03/too-many-chiefs-not-enough-indians/31247

2012-03-06T09:52:00.002-08:00

The Trend of Hating America

By Mourad Anouar

Oklahoma City, March 6, 2012

How strange and pathetic that evincing any signs of admiration or support for America would cause you to be an outcast within your society. You would be seen as less patriotic, a sycophant or often a traitor in the eyes of those who let their hearts be eaten up by a virulent vice called “hating America”. This epidemic tendency of hate has swept through many Arab countries in the last decade or so, notably after the two wars waged by the United States in Iraq and Afghanistan. According to a survey from the Pew Research Center’s Global Attitudes Project released May 17, 2011, the United States’ image has not improved during and after the anti-government uprisings that have shaken the totalitarian regimes in the region.

I am almost one decade out of Morocco living in the States – and I suppose I am somehow entitled, based on my perspective, to talk about a controversial and sensitive topic as such – but I have had a number of unpleasant conversations with friends, and sometimes complete strangers, whenever I happen to go back home, in which they expressed their hate for America. And because I think much of this rhetoric is unfounded, such experiences usually leave you face to face with two moral responsibilities that are seemingly irreconcilable.

The first moral responsibility is the gratuitous effort to rebut your fellow Moroccans who mistakenly question your allegiance to your country. It is saddening when your affiliations to your motherland might need to run through a polygraph to rule any doubt out. The second moral responsibility is how much you are able to proudly hold side by side your national flag in one hand, while in the other one a commitment to your sense of morality. While there is no such thing as having to talk negatively about America in order to be a patriotic Moroccan, there remain some people who have gone that far as to label you a traitor if you pursue the path of lauding the United States. In their supposedly “holy war”, they choose to direct their slandering arrows toward anybody who dares spot some good in this vast land; for only evil comes from there, according to their logic.

And I am sure if you ask one of them what is the most hated country in the world after Israel, the answer is definitely America. They would try relentlessly to give you a number of reasons to back up their position. They would definitely tell you the most heard and repeated grievance about the unconditional support of America for Israel in its aggression against the Palestinians. And if you are one of those who are under the illusion that Islam is targeted by a worldwide plot to obliterate it, you would most likely point to the infamous statement by George W. Bush when he declared after September 11 that America was to embark on a “crusade” in the Muslim world. Surely, he would reveal to you that there are too many reasons to hate America.

Usually, when you get politics mixed up with religion, not only are your decisions clouded by human interpretations of divine scriptures, but a flare-up of imminent danger sets in, especially in the minds of religious people who think their religion is always under attack. While it is a hard task to counter this segment of society’s apocalyptic fears and unavoidable Armageddon with more sound exegetical arguments, it is safe to say that this category of people are obviously the ones who are more into the trendy addictive habit of hating America.

But away from the treacherous and unethical practices of politics and the nature of religious polemics, people often find themselves caught up in a difficult life where poverty, ignorance, unemployment, corruption and more are pervasive. If you decide to take a walk with one of the same people who just spewed all his hate toward America and take him away from the realm of politics to our miserable realities across the Middle East and ask him about his possible plans to better his life, one of the common answers you might get: Winning a green card lottery or being hooked up with an American or European girl on a chat room. And the same guy, if you bother to check him out, you would notice is dressed up in Nike sneakers, Levis Jeans and a New York Yankees cap on his head.

The irony here is that we hate America, but most of us strive to live in it. We all wish the near demise of it, but some of us still send our children to study there where its universities are ranked among the best in the world. Sadly, no single Arab country’s university has ever managed to make it to that list. On Friday sermons, our religious clerks don’t miss an opportunity to wish to see America wiped off of the map. The same day if you are a non-practicing Muslim and happen to walk or drive by the American embassy in Casablanca, you would be astonished by how many people are lined up there willing to leave Morocco to go settle in America.

Arab authoritarian regimes used this tactic of hating and blaming America for all our failures as an outlet for the masses to vent their resentment over their miserable lives toward Uncle Sam, instead of pinning the blame on their own country. It is sad, but it is true that we are barking at the wrong tree. And it is not a secret that the same dictators who always vilify America maintain good relations with its officials behind the scenes.

A balanced assessment of the topic in question is that America is not the all good, nor is it the all evil. As any superpower, it understandably attempts to extend its borders and gain more footing out of its physical sphere in order to preserve a glory and prosperity it has worked hard to attain. It is also understandable that some get largely irked by American expansionist ventures, but we fail to overlook the fact that any nation does what it is best for her and its people. Unfortunately, we who are plagued by the “all evil America” have confined our thinking within very tight boundaries in which we are resistant to step out and take any type of initiatives.

We mistakenly conclude that our lives would get better only if America quits sticking its nose in everything that concerns us. We decide to stay idle, uncertain about what we could possibly do, and there is so much to do, whereas others choose the apian way of carrying through their businesses.

Still, I am neither in the process of openly renouncing a deep-seated love for my own country Morocco, nor do I try to be another Uncle Tom to exhibit unrequited love for a country that I think possesses some good. It is very hard to subdue the invincible nature of your patriotism and avoid falling victim to the lure of depravity. The key is to genuinely balance your love for Morocco and commitment to the moralistic judgments you are supposed to adhere to.

But for the sake of impartiality alone, I endeavored to see through the multilayered fog that has accumulated in front of our eyes for years preventing us from seeing the good qualities of America. The real problem is not the mistakes carried out by ill-advised policies on the part of this country here and there. But what we should do is to stop propagating the anti-American fairy tales and start taking responsibility for our own actions.

As debatable as this topic is, there would surely be enough room for arguing on the basis of seeking the truth. But to those who are obsessed with a bogus Jihad against America, I wish they would at least have the minimum effrontery and guts of one of the heroes in the novels of the French writer Stendhal, who hated America so much that he decided not to go there after he asked the question “to go or not.”

http://moroccoworldnews.com/2012/03/the-trend-of-hating-america/30142

2012-03-04T17:48:00.000-08:00

Do you hate your boss?

By Mourad Anouar

Oklahoma City, January 26, 2012

Please select one of the following: My boss is….

A) – Monster

B) – grizzly

C) – terrible

D) – All of the above

My friend’s wife thinks her boss can be all of the above. “No day would come by without her coming back home from work with the worst and most painful experience she has ever had with her boss”, my friend Adam told me. I would not be surprised if she has indeed thought of the perfect set up to get rid of her boss. She might have thought of a bunch of mischievous scenarios with no incriminating evidence. But I am certain she thought of quitting her current job several times. If you really hate your boss, does what I mentioned above sound familiar? Is this what you face every day? Have you also thought of the perfect mischievous scenarios? Do you keep thinking that there must be a way around, up or out of this awful situation, if you could only figure out what is it?

My newly-hired friend Chris who works for a food processing company has the same “I hate my boss syndrome”. He baselessly claims his boss hates him “just because he is white”. His boss is African American by the way, but I don’t think she is racist. Through my own experience with her, I noticed her positive attitude and open mindedness, which proves his claims unfounded. To be honest, my friend Chris is lazy, really lazy. And because I have known him for years, I know that his main problem with his boss is his lack of loyalty towards his job in addition to laziness.

Yeah, sorry Chris, I have to be honest about it. And don’t tell me now you have tried it. No, you have not because you don’t have it. I am talking about loyalty in case you are clueless. And if you don’t know what is it? You still can learn it. It is never too late.

As most people, Chris, I don’t think you signed up for this job to work for a difficult boss. Probably when you accepted your new job, your boss seemed really nice, so nice that you thought you were the luckiest one on earth. And probably your bon temps at work was short-lived as your boss turned out to be a poltergeist.

Like my Friend’s wife, Chris thought of quitting his job probably more than the possibility of finding a solution. Honestly, quitting a job for feeling not up to the challenge seems to me an unjustifiable surrender. May be you cannot change your boss’s hot temper, for example, but you can alleviate its intensity to a lesser degree.

Chris, how many times did you tell me you lied to your boss? How many times did you fail to report your work malpractices to your boss? Do you remember that day when you told me you had been doing this job just for money, not because you love the job you do? Well, Chris, all of these are signs of a lack of loyalty. In other words and blatantly, you are disloyal to your boss.

As a matter of fact, being loyal to your boss is part of your job and a key indicator of your success. Which loyalty? Not the one you are thinking about now. Loren B. Belke, the author of “The First-Time Manager,” comments on this unsuitable loyalty. He notes “Loyalty has fallen into widespread disrepute. Blind loyalty has never had much to recommend it, but being loyal does not mean selling your soul. Your company and your boss are not out to rip the world. If they are, they are not worth your loyalty”

If you can be loyal to your boss without selling your soul, then you are on the right track. Loyalty simply means to be punctual for your job. To love your work and enjoy doing it. to Embrace your obstacles with a strong will and to manage your duties with integrity.

In learning how to do this you will master a valuable lesson about management, human behavior, work quality and how not to belittle your job. These skills can be turned around into survival, and even success, strategies.

Still, all what you need to do, Chris, is to summon that intrepid soul dwelling in you and join the opposite side, the loyal side.

2012-03-04T17:46:00.000-08:00

China's new-found arrogance

Mourad Anouar

Sunday February 19, 2012

Bill Weir should be proud of being the first journalist that was given an exclusive access to go inside apple’s factories in shanghai china to see how these company workers make one of the world’s favorite gadgets.

Weir’s “investigative-like trip” to China-based Apple would not have happened without a lawsuit from a local firm against the giant electronic company over safety problems, hazardous conditions and underage workers all happened be within in the confines of the giant gadget manufacturer.

To this point, it seems nothing is wrong with the fact that china is worried about its citizens working for Apple’s and the conditions in which they carry out their jobs. But, one should ask the legitimate question: why is china concerned about its citizens more now than ever before?

No doubt these work malpractices have been around in china for years. But what was absent is a louder and confident voice to decry them. Now, the growing and tangible power exercised by China is undeniable. Beijing is intent on stretching out its muscles to all directions in attempt to vaunt and show the world that it is as strong as any other super-power, or possibly stronger.

The title of this article is a quote from one of Fareed Zakaria’s articles in Newsweek magazine entitled” growing pains” published in Feb 5, 2010. The article addressed the crisis between China and the United States and focused more on three salient points:

1-The China’s furious reactions to Obama administrations’ decision to sell arms to Taiwan,
2-China’s threat to "retaliate" against U.S. companies involved in arms sales,
3-And Beijing’s indignant reaction to President Obama's decision to meet with the Dalai Lama

The unprecedented overreaction from China was seen by the writer as symbolic gestures which indeed spelled, as he concluded, the growing perception and arrogance in China that is no longer reliant on the West, in particular on America.

I would not argue if Zakaria’s “witty conclusion” has some validity or not, but nobody would overlook the Chinese presence on the international level. To label that as “a newfound arrogance” surely requires the writer to back up his assumption with some sort of a “psychological diagnosis”

Obviously, Beijing has been lately concerned about being accepted into the world community as a superpower, though not much as the only superpower on the scene, but one within the whole. One of the manifestations of China’s muscle is its growing interest in investing in Africa and Middle East. Evident enough, on the other hand, is that the United States’ golden era along with its global dominance that it has enjoyed over the last thirty years seems to be fading away as some scholars observed. The world with one Super Power tends to be bygone days. It is time, many think, to embrace more new players to take part in reshaping the world political system in a way completely different from how it used to be.

There are certainly new emerging powers that are hardly unnoticeable. China, India and Brazil to mention few, are by many accounts regarded to be vying with the United States for a new definition and dimensions of the world system. They might be political and leadership-wise naïve, but I don’t reckon they would not give it a try. It is worth pointing out also that an undemocratic regime, like China’s, where many despotic practices are part of the current government does not have credibility and goodwill, as perceived internationally, to lead the world

Where is the United States after all this? It is there, I believe. And because the United States undoubtedly represents a myriad of assets, values, and principles, it is unlikely to cede the world political battlefield in any foreseeable future.

Still America’s treasured and meritorious commodity is its unsurpassed concept and application of democracy and freedom. This cherished blessing is enjoyed just home though while many countries around the world are still struggling toward this dream. Overseas America’s image is bad enough, even worse than you may think. The only way, I believe, America can mend its battered image is by promoting democracy worldwide and helping the people striving to it” to touch it, not just hear it.”

One sapient reasoning to what might be perceived by Zakaria as arrogance on the part of China is what was tersely put in an article published by the China Post in which writer William Choong said” Strong arrogance is not necessarily bad; but weak arrogance is not necessarily good”

References

http://www.fareedzakaria.com/home/Articles/Entries/2010/2/15_Growing_Pains.html

http://www.chinapost.com.tw/commentary/the-china-post/special-to-the-china-post/2010/03/17/248646/p2/Is-China.htm

2012-03-04T17:41:00.000-08:00

The Power of Forgiveness

Mourad Anouar

Saturday February 11, 2012

It takes nowadays a click on the net to find one targeted by bastions of hate and justifiable violence. Today, I opened my yahoo message box to a long bloody message from an unknown source enticing me; I’m the supposedly overzealous Muslim, to continue the holy war against the so-called infidels. After I was done with reading the message, I asked myself this question: Why do we have all this hate inside us?

And if you are computer illiterate, don't worry, hate speech will find a way to you via multiple ways ranging from TV, books, or even mosques. The sad part is that over time we, the silent majority, start to condone acts of violence and hate speech by simply not condemning them. We share some responsibility by standing unresponsive to heinous acts carried out under the name of a religion we all assume to adhere to.

This unfortunate position of being hateful and passive is powerfully expressed in the lines of a story entitled City of Wrong by Egyptian writer Mohammad Kamel Hussein when the latter commented on the last moment of Christianity’s Jesus as he was demandingly dragged to the Cross in front of onlookers who showed no sympathy nor condemnation of what he endured. Known in Egypt as Father of Orthopedics, Dr. Hussein described this moment of hate and passiveness as” the individual’s conscience does not prevent the group from committing the greatest sin as long as it is committed on behalf of the group. And conscience alone is the one that distract people from evil, and since the groups do not have a conscience, it does not bother any individual of the group to what the group might commit no matter how serious is the sin”.

My article here, as we witness tragic consequences of hate, is meant to provide my own understanding of the problem in question-hate and passiveness- with a realistic alternative to those who emptied their hearts of love and filled it with hatred instead.

About three years ago, I took an International Law class with a gentleman named Luis Furmanski whose lectures were interesting and insightful, but one lecture that I will never forget was in fact a case study about Apartheid trials in South Africa. That day when we, students, were all engaged in showing the professor how we digested the class materials by putting into practice our understanding of the International Law articles, some of us even competed to come up with the harshest punishments for those white folks who were accused of crimes against humanity. After listening to all our interpretations of the law, the professor, standing behind the podium, said: All what you concluded is true as far as applying International Law, but listen to what Desmond Tutu had to say to those aggressors ” Our Lord would say that in the end the positive thing that can come is the spirit of forgiving. Not forgetting, but the spirit of saying, “God, this happened to us. We pray for those who made it happen, help us to forgive them and help us so that we in our turn will not make others suffer”

Tutu’s inspiring and powerful words still resonate within my heart and soul since then. His words should get us to realize the importance of forgiveness in our society. We, sadly, were brought up in an atmosphere where vengeance and hate are recommended weapons to deal with our daily challenges. We, parents, never cease to indoctrinate our little ones with the- eye- for-an-eye principle. Forgiveness in this hostile society has been synonymous with defeatism. But the fact is that having a heart eaten up by a raging hatred is another form of defeatism, for you let your heart be conquered by a foreign and destructive vice called hate.

The bottom line is the outcome of the two options: Forgiveness brings about a peaceful state of mind, emotional healing and a sensation of superiority to the inner state of conflict between good and evil. Hatred, on the other hand, breeds only more hate and violence. It not only impairs our vision to see the good things in life, but it places us no further from being beasts.

The pervasiveness of turmoil is so overwhelming that you cannot even comprehend or keep up with. Historically speaking, the moments of peace are longer than those of drums of war. Each time through our collectively human experience, moments of peace are seeds of a message based on love, tolerance and forgiveness delivered by exceptional people. One name that stands out among many was the prophet Muhammad who was committed to bringing peace and forgiveness to a then warring region. His message of forgiveness was manifested in his famous statement as he returned to his beloved city Mecca after years of exile in the neighboring city of Medina. Entering Mecca victorious, he told his enemies” Go, for you are free” after they had cast him out.

2012-03-04T17:38:00.000-08:00

In search of common grounds with the “new chauvinistic Amazighs”

Mourad Anouar

Wednesday February 15, 2012

Writing about the Moroccan Amazigh issues is similar in magnitude and severity to writing about religion in Middle East where any attempt of critical thinking is faced with the same common weapons of blasphemy, ignorance, treason and sometimes even assassination.

o avoid these ready-made accusations, I searched the topic in question in an attempt not to clash with anybody. As you the reader notice, I used the word Amazigh, not Berber, whenever I talk about the indigenous people of Morocco so nobody would feel disparaged nor offended, for I found out that the word “Berber’ is derogatory to some. And in doing so, I was to prove to the reader, especially the Amazigh one, that there was no ill intention behind me tackling this issue.

As I embark on this unpredictable venture, I hope to find a common ground with the Amazigh people, especially the chauvinistic ones. Yes the chauvinistic ones, not Moha, Hma’d neither Hammou, nor Tamo and the list goes on endlessly, for the latter sat next and behind me in classrooms with no hidden agenda. They never tried to stab me. Nor did I. We played soccer in the same field with the same soccer balls. More than once all of us chipped in some money to buy a soccer ball from our neighborhood’s grocery store vendor Si’Omar. We loved and respected each other as we were taught to do so. Stories of a long-lasting co-existence of Arabs and Amazighs in Morocco that started centuries ago are too long to be condensed into an article like this.

But why do they” stab” us now? Do we ever try to steal their dreams for a better life? Did any of us, we the Arabs, manage to boycott An Amazigh? Or did we, we the Arab invaders as some call us, imagine Morocco without Amazighs?

As I tried to dig deep into the possible motives that might drive this minority, I hope so, to embrace such separationist views in a country that has always been welcoming and warm to all people regardless of their ethnic backgrounds, I was unable to come up with a legitimate motive.
I asked these questions above because I have recently noticed a dangerous trend followed by “some Amazighs” who even dare to talk about a state for them only, without Arabs. The bellicose mood that started years ago has radically changed into a separationist one, of which no single Moroccan has ever thought.

Personally speaking, I was offended by many things chauvinist Amazighs have said since their issue came to prominence, but for the sake of our valued unity, I ignored the vitriolic rhetoric spewed out by some of them through different types of media that they have access to. On the net where people can enjoy the experience of hit- and run, I always come across very hateful comments where some of them even called on rounding up all Arabs in Morocco and sending them back to where they came from(Saudi Arabia obviously). To this point, I considered all that as premature and an online sparring from virtual people.

But the most offensive thing I experienced was the Amazigh flag that supposed to be representing the” Amasigh nation”. According to Wikipedia,” The Berber flag is a flag that has been proposed for the Berber people”. You may wonder as you condemn this ill-advised move, but the reality is that this flag is to symbolize the Amazigh land. Or, “Tamazgha” as it stated in Wikipedia. To whoever wrote that on Wikipedia, here is a question: Is it a proposed substitute flag for the current Moroccan one? Or, is it for a land that is unheard of?

The first thing I encountered as I searched into this thorny topic is that chauvinistic Amazighs tend to think discussing “the Amazigh issue” is” a restricted turf” for Amazighs only, which struck me as odd and somewhat quixotic. I think that because I am Moroccan in the first place, I am more than entitled to discuss it as it concerns me as much as it does concern anybody else.

Throwing all these shocking information into the reader’s face, especially the one who has never imagined a split Morocco, is to raise awareness around an issue that we seem to ignore. Now, as you may be offended, or possibly bothered, by all these, I want you to think about the following as you might have experienced the same thing as I did: I was born and raised in Doukkala, where, as most parts of Morocco, Arabs and Amazigh live side by side peacefully. I admit there have been stereotypes exchanged by the two ethnic groups of society, but, thank God, it never amounts to the point where we call it a racial problem in Morocco. We Moroccans like to joke and poke fun at everybody, even ourselves. No hard feelings. I admit I still have this distorted image of the ordinary Amazigh man who spends most of his life toiling in order to save a fortune. The stereotype even goes on to describe him as stingy, modesty-dressed with a European-like skin. Amazighs too, on the other hand, have their stereotyped image of Arabs as being extravagant brown-skinned folks, showy and lust-driven.

The good thing though about all our racial and ethnic differences in Morocco, to my knowledge, is that it has never been used to systematically discriminate against Amazighs, or any other ethnic groups. Even when Pan-Arabism with its many flaws was at its peak, it was never intent on espousing any ideas of relegating Amazighs from their native land. The reason I spoke about the bon temps lived by two of us, Arabs and Morocco, is to ask the chauvinistic Amazighs the following: Why all this now?

As Amazigh separationists seem to be partly influenced by some neighboring ones, such as Copts in Egypt, one wonder if the contagion of separation is an inevitable plague for Middle East countries. History, though, tells us that such movements not only could build no civilization, but it tells also that any entity that aims to be established on chauvinistic grounds is doomed as the case of the Nazi Germany. On the other hand, diversity in races and cultures has always been a valuable asset for prosperity and success. The great civilization built by the Abbasid dynasty owes much of its prosperity to the concept of melting pot where Persians, Turks, Arabs, and Copts and more were able to excel in many literary and scientific fields with no significance given to anybody’s ethnic background.

I always maintain that Morocco’s hidden strengths are not its mines of phosphate, or its boundless shorelines, but rather its ethnically rich culture. We Moroccans should pride on this cherished experience that is a harvest of mutual respect and love dated back centuries.

In this piece I don’t seek to impersonate American politician Joseph McCarthy in his overreacted and unwarranted measures in weeding out all whom he, or I, suspect having ties or sympathy with either then Communism or now new Amazigh chauvinism, nor ask I for putting the chauvinistic Amazighs in concentration camps. But the increasingly heated tone of them is something worth dealing with seriously on the part of the Moroccan government. More seriously is an urgency of emerging rational and wise Amazighs, my childhood friends Mouha, Hammou, Hma’d and Tamo, who are willing seek to find common grounds with Arabs and cope with the differences. One can’t help but to see and hear our long-awaited Amazigh savior, somebody as charismatic and outspoken as the famed Coptic Makram Ebeid Pasha who said in a time Egypt was on the brink of a sectarian war as it is now: “I am a Christian of religion and a Muslim of identity”

Certainly, I don’t want an Amazigh who is ready to lay off his commitment to his its ancestral roots. Instead, we are in need of somebody who is blessed with the spirit of willing to bring us together. Somebody who is ready to stand up for his fellow Arabs and tell his chauvinistic fellows: We are all Moroccans before being Arabs or Amazighs.

As we are waiting, I insist on the necessity for an open dialogue between all Moroccans, Amazighs and Arabs, a dialogue aimed at exploring more into our common heritage without a shred of doubt that our glorious past of co-existence is the underpinning for a brighter future together. When we reach that, we will lounge on our sofas and enjoy our music icon Omar Sayed singing without any of us caring if he is Amazigh or an Arab, but rather Moroccan.

2012-03-04T17:33:00.001-08:00

Is it an Egyptian hooliganism or a sensationalist media by-product?

It seems that the purpose of soccer in Egypt is about shedding as much blood as it could be. The horrific scenes of irate fans of Port Said soccer club assaulting their fellow ones from al-Ahly and resulting in the killing of At least 74 people indicate that there is something definitely wrong.

Port Said tragedy

As some in Egypt, particularly The Muslim Brotherhood, accused remnants of the Mubarak regime of provoking the riot in an attempt to destabilise the country, many of Egypt's liberal youth activists, believing in conspiracy, quickly pinned the blame on the military council. Astonishingly, no evidence has been provided so far to back up any of the two allegations.
The root causes, I think, of this phenomenon are more than the work of some Mubarak’s loyalists, or the covert actions by the military council. As for Mubarak being involved somehow in this tragedy, I think history of soccer as bloody and violent as it has been confirms that hooliganism in Egypt is not a sudden occurrence. The Egyptian military council too has no benefit in exacerbating the security situation in Egypt. A disestablished Egypt, on the contrary, would intensify the popular dissent against the council.

The history of soccer violence in Egypt does not start in Port Said. We all remember what happened in Sudan in November 14, 2009 when dozens of Algerian and Egyptian fans were injured in assaults and clashes between the two sides as a result of Egypt’s soccer national team loss against Algerian one. Four days before that, on the night of the first game, which Egypt won, thousands of Egyptians flooded into the streets of Cairo screaming, dancing and wreaking havoc. Last year on Apr 3, 2011 hundred of Egpyt's Zamalek fans decided to storm the pitch, in stoppage time, and forced the referee to leave blaming the match’s Algerian referee for disallowing Egyptian side's third goal in a game between Zamalek and Tunisia's Club Africain. As the officials fled the scene after the game was abandoned, the crazies on the pitch threw stones, lit flares and attacked both the players and even each other.

In the aftermath of the game between Egypt and Algeria in Sudan, Egyptian and foreign observers alike marveled at the extent of nationalist fervor and mass mobilization done by the mass media in particular.

In this piece I argue, too, that the Egyptian media is to blame for all what tragically happened. Here is a one fact: Most of sport talk shows in Egypt, especially soccer ones, are run by inexperienced anchors that have no background in the field of mass communication. In fact, most of them were former players who think they can do better both on the field and in front of cameras. The incident of one famous talk show host, former player also, where he bastardized the whole people of Algeria is still fresh in memories. Another talk show watched by millions of Egyptians the host incited viewers to go out and kill any Algerian living in Egypt after a rumor spread in the net claiming that Egyptian fans were killed by Algerian counterparts in the Sudan game. By the way, this two frightening and despicable scenes happened on live shows where Egyptian flags were waved and national hymns were sung in a scene similar to a war mobilization.

The instigator host who openly urged his viewers to go out and kill Algerians who lived in Egypt had to be happy after he knew that some of his show fans responded to his call. It was not that long when his call for violence was answered and some hundreds of revengeful fans gathered in front of the Algerian embassy in Cairo, burning Algerian flags, and eventually clashing with of riot police.

The role of the media in this example was hijacked by fanatic and rookie media people who think their national pride was on the line and that there is no way but to take revenge from those who dare to deconsecrate it. Yeah, it is true that to those nationalism is sacred. For this reason, their sense of judgment is clouded by their allegiances to their nationalism rather than to their reasons.

Another extreme and strange response from the public to the sensationalist media following also the infamous Egypt vs. Algeria game was what was reported by al-Ahram newspaper when they ran a story about a village willing to change its name from al-Jaza'ir ("Algeria") to Mubarak al-misriyin.

Those are just few of a long list of examples of mishandling and unprofessionalism by the irresponsible Egyptian media which deviated from its proper course in educating people and helping in rationalizing their behaviors. Egypt is compelled to redefine the role of the media, in particular sport media and why not follow the steps of the European Committee on Civil liberties and Internal Affairs in its 1996 report which recommended that the media should "participate in the promotion of respect for fair pay in sport, to help promote positive sporting value, to combat aggressive and chauvinist behavior and to avoid any sensationalism in treating information on violence at sporting events”
As bereft Egypt is surely in our thoughts, one of the inexplicable remarks, yet saddening, is that as many as 73 people were allegedly killed by the winning team fans, which makes you wonder what would be the death toll if Port Said team lost.

2012-03-04T17:29:00.000-08:00

Amine El Khalifi, the black sheep

By Mourad Anouar

Thank God and Federal security for nabbing Mr. Amine El Khalifi before he was able to carry out his monstrous plan. If the latter happened to succeed, the damage would be irreparable. But along with such alleged terrorist plans that target innocent people comes a price that others have to pay.

It is a high price by the way. And in this case, we, the Moroccan community, are in no better position as we have to defend ourselves against something one black sheep has done. People like El Khalifi don’t know that their cowardly acts bring about not only material damage, but they play a major role in demonizing a large community that chose to make America their second home.

Unlike many other Moroccans who came to the states to have a better life, El Khalifi had different plans. He could have seized the opportunity and picked out a good career for him. He, instead, chose to be a murderer. Surely, he did not believe in an orderly and peaceful society where people can still live together even if they have different ideologies. He should have learned through his nine years as an illegal immigrant that in a civilized society people settle their differences, no matter how serious they are, by debating, not throwing grenades. Al Khalifi was able to overstay his visa without being apprehended by the Immigration authorities. Instead of being thankful for that, he returned their favor by trying to bomb the U.S capitol and other governmental buildings.

Unfortunately, Mr. Al Khalifi not only chose to pursue a bloody path, but he, knowingly or unknowingly, was behind tarnishing the image of his native country and his fellow Moroccans who live in America. Living away from one’s native country usually requires one to be a goodwill ambassador for it. However, for people like Al Khalifi, there is no affiliation or allegiance, or even some sense of patriotism. Loyalty to their extremist convictions transcends all bonds to either their host country or their native one. Orchestrating their evil plans comes before any considerations including the jeopardizing of the lives of many Moroccans living here in the US.

No doubt the war on terror is not America’s only. Countries around the world have suffered from this global phenomenon. In Morocco as in the United States, Moroccans need to come forward to denounce such heinous acts. It is time to do more than just send out statements of condemnation to news agencies and officials. We should use all our means to campaign against this lethal ideology that is twisted out of any semblance to reality. The battle against terror is not limited to just rounding up a bunch of crazies and putting them behind bars. It is in fact a battle of ideas where taking people’s lives can be justified by twisting the meanings of divine scriptures.

Mr. Khalifi is not the only or the last one with extremist ideas. His arrest should indicate that terrorists are determined to fight until the last drop of blood.

One thing I am sure of is that El Khalifi does not represent Morocco or Moroccans. No matter what his motives for his cowardly plot were, no justification can be made when innocent lives are targeted.

What should we do after all this?

That would be left to the readers to come up with the possible solutions and strategies in an attempt t

2012-03-04T17:27:00.002-08:00

Media effects on society: Uses for Gratifications’ theory

By Mourad Anouar,

Lucian Parfeni, Web News Editor at www.news.softpedia.com, wrote an article about why teens don’t tweet. To get an answer for that, he asked Geoff Cook, co-founder and CEO of social networking site my Yearbook, about the reluctance to use twitter among teens. Surveying more than 10,000 teens between 13 and 17 years old, the answer by Geoff Cook was not totally unexpected, as it turns out that teens tweet or don’t tweet just as much as the rest of us. For the most part, Facebook is just a better alternative.

To back up this finding, the writer referred to Nielsen report from a 15-year-old intern at the research firm which, even if it was hardly scientific, it found that teenagers just don’t use Twitter because they have much better alternatives for their needs like Facebook. Along with these findings, the major one was that most teenagers don’t use twitter, because their needs are better served by other services and that the micro blogging service really does not bring anything new for them.

It seems that this article goes in parallel with what Blumler and Katz found in their uses for gratification theory. Beginning in the 1940s, researchers began seeing patterns under the perspective of the uses and gratifications theory in radio listeners. Early research was concerned with topics, such as children’s use of comics and the absence of newspapers during a newspaper strike.

In 1974, Katz and Bulmer (1974) saw the mass media as a means by which individuals connect or disconnect themselves with. Before that time, most communication research was questioning, “What do media do to people?” However, Katz suggested asking the question, “What do people do with media?

The uses for gratification approach, within the Functionalist theory, shifted the focus from the purposes of the communication to the purpose of the reader and opened a door to a modern understanding of mass communication. This popular approach to understanding mass communication suggests that media users play an active role in choosing and using the media. Uses for gratifications theory takes a more humanistic approach to looking at media use.

Bulmer and Katz believe that there is not merely one way that the populace uses media. Instead, they believe there are as many reasons for using the media, as there are media users. Users take an active part in the communication process and are goal-oriented in their media use. The two theorists say that a media user seeks out a media source that best fulfills the needs of the user. John Fiske (1990) notes that “this approach takes as its basis the belief that the audience has a complex set of needs which it seeks to satisfy in the mass media”

Uses for gratification theory can be seen in this case in the article we have in the fact that the teens prefer Facebook not only to fit a particular mood, but also in attempts to show empowerment or other socially conscience motives, even if there are many different types of social network sites that we choose from them to fulfill a particular need. Dominic A. Infante, Andrew S. Rancer and Deanna F. Womack (2003) concluded that “Another assumption of uses and gratification theory is that audiences use the media to fulfill expectations. For example, you may watch a science fiction program such as Star Trek to fantasize about the future”

As other mass media theories, Uses for Gratifications’ theory has been criticized for the fact that the public has no control over the media and what it produces. It can also be said to be too kind to the media, as they are being ‘let off the hook’ and do not need to take responsibility for what they produce.

Additionally, it receives critique due to the individualistic nature of Uses and Gratification theory; it is difficult to take the information that is collected in studies. Most research relies on pure recollection of memory rather than data. This makes self-reports complicated and immeasurable. Others even believe that this theory in hand has survived because only for want of an alternative.

Karsten Renckstorf (2004) said that “It cannot be said to have flourished, and its success are patchy and uneven”. In general, although the media industry is based on the strategy that audiences are at least somewhat active, two dichotomies concerning media have long prevailed. In the first group are those scholars who view the mass audience as predominantly passive and those who hold that audience members are active and discriminating.

However, the basic questions remain the same. Why do people become involved in one particular type of mediated communication or another, and what gratifications do they receive from it? Judith Page Van Evra (2004) thinks that “contemporary studies answer the criticism and show systematic progression and further conceptual development, including attention to theoretical links among uses of media and effects and more knowledge about audience members as variably active communicators.”

References:

Dominic A. Infante, Andrew S. Rancer and Deanna F. Womack. (2003) Building communication theory. Long Grove, Illinois: Waveland Press.

John Fiske. (1990) Introduction to Communication Studies. Florence, KY: Routledge.

Judith Page Van Evra. (2004) Television and child development. Florence, KY: Routledge.

Karsten Renckstorf. (2004) Action theory and communication research: recent developments in Europe. Berlin, Germany: Walter de Gruyter

2012-03-04T17:26:00.000-08:00

By Mourad Anouar

Please select one of the following: My boss is….

A) – Monster

B) – grizzly

C) – terrible

D) – All of the above

Still, all what you need to do, Chris, is to summon that intrepid soul dwelling in you and join the opposite side, the loyal side.

Tunisia Withdraws Recognition of the Regime of Bashar Al-Aassad

2012-03-04T17:24:00.000-08:00

By Mourad Anouar

In the wake of another bloody massacre in which over 200 people were killed and over 1,000 injured in the central city of Homs on Friday night by the Syrian regime, Tunisia decided on Saturday to expel the Syrian ambassador to Tunis and to withdraw its recognition of the regime of Bashar al-Assad as the legitimate representative of the Syrian people, announced the Tunisian presidency.

According to a statement on his Facebook page, the Tunisian president called on the president Assad to “step down in order to help spare Syrian blood.” Moncef Marzouki went on to say that “the only solution (for the crisis in Syria) is the removal from power of Bashar al Assad and the launch of a democratic transition.”

In an interview with Aljazeera on Saturday, Tunisia’s Secretary of State, Abdessalem Rafik, said that “Tunisia as it has been proactive in starting the revolution, it makes sense to be proactive in solidarity with our brothers in Syria.” “This is the most-expected attitude expressed by this government that derives its legitimacy from the revolution,”, he added.

He also hoped that most Arab country, especially Egypt, Morocco and the Gulf countries, would follow Tunisia in its step toward severing all ties with the Syrian regime.

Tunisia’s daring move came after Russia and China’s veto today to a U.N. Security Council resolution aimed at ending Syria’s bloodshed among concerns that Damascus might heighten its clampdown on the protestors who entered their nearly 11-month uprising.

Elfiky, Amir, and Houston: when we lose exceptional people

2012-03-03T18:30:00.003-08:00

People around the world received some bad news during the second week of February. The loss of three exceptional people shook the world as it shook me. You might not have shed any tears on any of them, nor were you sad, but I am quite sure you paused some time during the week to pay them, or at least one of them, some respect.

In terms of lives lost, Egyptians were hard hit as their loss was greater. Their grief for the deaths of two influential figures added to the uncertainty their torn and destabilized country is head to. Egypt surely did not see it coming, nor was it ready to deal with it. Two fine men were no longer among their fellow Egyptians to contribute in the rebuilding in one of the oldest civilization on earth.

Renowned home and overseas, Dr. Ibrahim Elfiky’ expertise in the field of the human development techniques was far from denying. According to many testimonials, he was instrumental in transforming hundreds of people’s lives into a more functional and productive ones, which deservedly earned him a worldwide recognition and love by millions of people. Without doubt, too many praised him for his extensive knowledge that was showcased with an unmistakable humility, a commodity rare nowadays among academia. But because he was the type of the man who saw things different from the way we do, he was never preoccupied with our mundane concerns and outward appearances as most of us do, for he committed himself to a better cause. Is there anything more rewarding and noble than helping others in bettering themselves and lives?

The second loss Egypt, Egyptians and others outside this country had to endure was the one of Jalal Amir. Some of you might not know him, especially if you are not into the habit of reading newspapers. Having a military background, he did not hesitate to venture the fourth estate risky business with hopes of defending and protecting his country, but this time with his pen, not his assigned gun. He was convinced that the power of his pen could be analogous to any type of weapons including shell bombs. Yes, his articles were as clamorous in Egypt as a dropped bomb. Was not he the one among few who rose up to criticize the toppled president Hosni Mubarak before he was place on a moving bed?

Being a journalist and satirist par excellence, he was clever at “dissecting Egypt 'ill society” so people in power might bother to care. That is not the case in Middle East where dictators are very skeptical of any type of criticism directed toward them. In this troubled region our prominent people die unnoticed. Sadly, we usually recognize them posthumously.

The third death happened in America, but the news of her death soon replicated in major TV stations and newspapers around the world. She was simply a world star. Her voice transcended any limits her native language could create. She was best at utilizing her voice cords to reach out to a wider audience, wider than our man-made boundaries of language, sex, race and religion. In sum, Whitney Houston was not just a singer, but a person who carried a message in her heart felt through all her songs.

The three deaths were not only broadcast on every major TV or news outlet either home or abroad, it was listed in most national or international newspaper’s obituaries too. During their eventful lives, all of them enjoyed an admiration from most people who came to know them. They shared what they were endowed with, each in his field, to bring some hope, light, enjoyment and change in our lives As we mourn these deaths, the only commitment that I am sure we will always bind ourselves to keep is our remembrance and love for them all.

When I lost Gertrude in Jemaa El-fnaa

2012-03-03T18:15:00.005-08:00

Even those kleinigkeiten she used to do whenever she came over had never upset me; for she was the type of person you would harbor no grudge against her. You would forgive her for the practical jokes she used to play on everybody, including me. And to let you know, I am very irascible, quick to get irritated even when it is about a petty thing. Both my parents scolded me a number of times for having an explosive temper. To this moment, I don't understand why I let her dupe me over and over again. Being one of her easy and gullible victims, I admit even letting her play games on me. And there were a couple of times we both laughed about it when we thought the jokes were witty and creative; most of them were. During this eventful period I had to sit aside sometimes and ask myself the same question: Why don't I get mad at her?

I never was able to find an answer though.

Being a jokester caused her to have few friends. I was lucky enough to be one of this elite entourage that hanged out with her most of the time. And the reason I was lucky, I think, to spend much time with her was because she was fun to be with. She could make you laugh right after she played a joke on you. And I guess the most interesting thing about her was not her queer sense of humor, but her astonishing ability to make her stories interesting even if they were dull. Her sophisticated manner of narrating stories made her a perfect storyteller and may be that explained her fondness for spending a lot of time in Jemaa El-Fnaa. She was a faithful fan of this magical place. Whenever we lost sight of her, we would look at each other in wonderment and say: "She must be in Jemaa El-Fnaa"

By the way, she was German and Gertrude was her name. What a name? What about kleinishkeiten for a word? I bet you were wondering about this it as you drifted down the lines to here. As a matter of fact, kleinishkeiten was her word, or justification, whenever she was faced with disapproval of her actions. She explained it to me one day as "trivial stuff". Some people, for example, were offended by her lavatorial humor and deemed it inappropriate and childish. She never liked how the German responded to her jokes. She mentioned two incidents where she was almost physically assaulted by some folks who did not appreciate her witticism

"They can’t take a joke” she protested one day.

"We Moroccans take jokes,” I replied.

Gertrude came to morocco as an exchange student from the University of Mainz to study Arabic and Islamic studies in Marrakech. She revealed to me once that the East-and she meant here specifically the Arab world-always fascinated her to a great extent. Discovering Arabic calligraphy by chance, she said, ignited in her a raging appetite for knowing more about this part of the globe. I asked her once if she was going to turn out to be just like Muir, Nodlke, Spencer and Margoliouth

“Who are those?” She exclaimed.

"You don’t want to know now", I commented.

I wondered more than once if her study of Islam would lead her to a balanced and unprejudiced understanding of its tenets, or:

"Are you just going to join the same hateful bastion which had been stuffing the so-called "encyclopedia of Islam" with all sort of flagrant and absurd falsehoods and lies about our religion and its prophet," I told her once.

"What lies in this encyclopedia?” She wondered.

"You better look at it after you study Islam from its authentic sources" I replied.

“You made me curious to find out more about it” She argued.

"Ok, you want to believe, for example, Ernest Renan who claimed that Mohammed did not received any revelation but he suffered from epilepsy" I explained. She stared at me for about a minute and then said as she walked away:"You may be right about studying Islam from its authentic sources"

It was one of Marrakech’s typically hot nights, enjoyably hot though. Any visitor of this exquisite city knows that Marrakesh is the place to run away from cold weather. Gertrude, smiling and ecstatic, was some inches away from me. This mid-June starry night was great until I found myself lowering my head into a position where I was able to maneuver through sudden waves of a scorching hot air. As I squinted trying to make way through the crowd, I wished I could stop somewhere and shut my eyes. Reaching the end of the street, I turned back to check on Gertrude, but I found her nowhere. She disappeared. I searched for her there for about two hours but in vain. I walked the streets around there back and forth asking the people more than once if they had seen her. No answer. A labyrinthine sense reigned over me leaving me sunk into a moment of deafening silence and misgiving. My vision was so blurred that I had to dodge passing people I sensed around me. I felt like they were trying to run intentionally into my disoriented body, punishing and pushing me to the sides for losing her in a blink of an eye. I deserved, however, being elbowed in that gridlock-like sensation that enclosed me that night.

Whatever had to be the case, she was determined to leave nothing behind but little sweet memories which some of us still cherish. So do I. One of these memories is when she and I each quaffed down a glass of orange juice in Jemaa El-Fnaa.

“You know, what you are drinking now is half water half juice" I told her

"What do you mean?” she said

"Have you ever heard of the turkey baster?” I said.

"Of course I know", she said.

"Yeah, but what does that has to do with orange juice", she grimaced at me

"Well, it is quite similar in some way", I added, "Americans inject their turkeys with marinade, but these Moroccan vendors imbibe oranges with water to squeeze more juice out of it"

"Hmmm that is slick but the juice still yummy", she commented

At that point, I noticed that orange juice vender eyed me up and down. I figured he knew what our conversation was about. I got scared especially when I saw two other people standing next to him. As I handed him back the empty glass, I pursed my lips to show him that I enjoyed his orange juice.

"It is the best juice ever", I complemented him

He nodded with quick yet menacing smile. I turned back to find Gertrude sipping the last drops of her cup. She handed him the cup too and thanked him in a broken Moroccan dialect.

"Tbarkla alik"

I grabbed her from her arm and we lumbered across a group of French tourists standing in a circle, in the center of which stood an old man in a white and well-ironed djallaba reciting in a singsong and an intoned manner the halcyon years when Morocco was prosperous and powerful. As I accidently shouldered the seemingly excited guide, I made sure not to turn around, for I did not want to look scared. But every feature on my face indicated I was.

The night she disappeared I met her heading toward Jemaa El-Fnaa. Originally, I was going to visit a friend of mine whom I had not seen for long. When she asked me where I was going, I told her Jemaa El-Fnaa. She was hyper as usual. She seemed to be setting about some kind of unplanned journey or adventure. She would stop in the middle of the road, spin, with her head up facing the sky, and laugh loud. That embarrassed me a bit because I had to deal with the intimidating looks that were coming from all directions. I felt people pinned the blame on me for what she did. Upset with their doing, I pretended to be very complacent. Her hysterical laughs added to the beauty and vibration of the place. To the contrary, much more exasperation was felt by the people around who rejected the idea she was a bit boisterous.

Three months after her disappearance, two friends of Gertrude and I gathered in Jemaa El-Fnaa in the same corner where we used to hang out. We sat there, without her, reminiscing about every moment we enjoyed together. Amine, one of her close friends, reminded us of her fascination with the German history. Ahmed, her third friend, was never on good terms with her after he undervalued the German literature one day. Being a rabid fan of Schiller's poems, she declared that his poem "the Tauscher" is the acme of poetry. She too believed that the world owes a lot to the German genius.

"We invented the car, the type machine and beer" she boasted once.

"And wurst" I riposted.

"Food is a French thing," she grimaced, and “I can’t think of a German dish that I can be boastful of

Well, despite the food, I was personally amazed by the so many accounts of successes she told me about the Germans and German history. Our search for her never paid off. Now, she is gone, and maybe she will never be back. My poor friend amine tried numerous times to convince me that we will find her one day somewhere in Jemaa El-Fnaa.

"Yes,” I comforted him once, “just let's keep going there"