Mouvement du 20 Février : Le besoin d’adopter de nouvelles perspectives est inévitable ! (1/2)

Partie 1

Les demandes de réformes ont été et sont toujours criés aux quatre coins du Maroc, que ce soit par les Islamistes, Communistes ou autres, et ce n’est pas aujourd’hui que l’on dira  que le Maroc s’est réveillé de son long sommeil juste à cause d’un mouvement réformateur qui s’autoproclame leader des demandes sociales au niveau national.

Le mouvement du 20 Février, qui a devancé la scène publique ces derniers mois, a prouvé à ses débuts qu’il était en mesure de communiquer les demandes du peuple à la supposée élite qui nous gouverne, une élite qui depuis l’acquisition de notre indépendance ne cesse d’ignorer a quel point l’opinion publique en a marre d’être asservie par cette stratégie de pacification et d’abrutissement des masses menées en grandes pompes par le tristement célèbre Makhzen.

Bien que sa création soulève nombre de controverses, reste que le mouvement du 20 Février a été la seule option proposée à un peuple assoiffé de changement et inspiré par la vague réformatrice du printemps Arabe.

Pas besoin d’énumérer les défauts du groupe ni son cadre organisateur défaillant, car prise hors de son contexte socio-politique, on ne peut qu’admirer la faillite totale du mouvement dans les champs de l’organisation, de la synchronisation, de la gestion des ressources humaines et de la planification.

Si j’écris cet article maintenant, ce n’est pas pour critiquer le mouvement mais plutôt pour soulever certaines questions et propositions pour remédier à cette défaillance ‘technique’ et stratégique dont souffre le mouvement du 20 Fev.

Tant que l’on n’a pas d’alternative, il faudra essayer de faire avec ce qu’on a, en d’autres termes fortifier le mouvement avec une nouvelle vision plus apte à répondre aux aspirations du peuple et des jeunes plus précisément : garder la forme mais modifier le contenu en somme.

Avec l’ascension de l’influence de groupes opportunistes –citant entre autres Al Adl Wa Al Ihsan et autres partis politiques ainsi que des groupes radicaux de tout genre- les tentatives d’englober le mouvement du 20 Février sont de plus en plus alarmantes, car suivre un trajet pour pervertir le but du mouvement, le transformer en une filière d’un certain parti politique ou en un porte-parole d’un groupe spécifique doté d’une idéologie précise revient à signer l’arrêt de mort du mouvement populaire en faveur du conditionnement socio-politique tracé depuis des décennies par le Makhzen, une sorte de carte-route pour tout mouvement anticonformiste contestataire de la suprématie de l’autorité et de l’élite  sur le peuple oppressé...

Mohamed Amine Belarbi

Le Maroc 2.0: qu’on le veuille ou pas, la révolution est à nos portes !

Tout portait à penser que le Maroc serait la singularité mathématique de cette rigide équation qu’est le printemps arabe, mais la situation courante reflétée par la tension publique qui régit les protestations quotidiennes et les confrontations sanglantes entres citoyens et forces de l’ordre trace un nouveau cadre à cette singularité Marocaine qui se voit poussée à respecter la logique populaire des demandes de réformes, avec nul échappatoire au changement imminent.

Plusieurs solutions, où plutôt ruses sournoises visant le gain de temps contre cette avalanche réformiste qui menace d’engloutir l’administration marocaine en entier ont été implémentée, mais en vain.

La tristement célèbre attaque terroriste d’Argana qui a frappé Marrakech ce 28 Avril est l’une des dernières ingéniosités du Makhzen dans le domaine de la lutte anti-réformiste. Dans un Maroc où les menaces terroristes ont succombé sous le charme de l’hibernation dicté par les autorités depuis le 16 Mai, jour où l’administration Marocaine a usé des attaques fictives des Salafistes terroristes pour imposer une agenda politique royale visant la contre-attaque de la montée de l’islamisme politique –chose compréhensible compte tenu que l’islamisme et la royauté/corruption sont mutuellement exclusifs-, on voit soudainement apparaître dans les médias et sur internet cette annonce stupéfiante et tout aussi ridicule : Un homme dont l’éducation est assez faible (chose normale dans un pays où l’éducation est le dernier des soucis) use d’une bombe contrôlée à distance pour faire exploser un café grouillant de touristes, résultant dans la mort d’une douzaine d’étrangers et autant de blessés. Ce qui a trahit le plan sadique des autorités est la concordance des faits avec la situation actuelle au Maroc ainsi que le caractère répétitif d’une telle attaque dans des situations pareilles dans le monde arabe en temps de crise.

Après 8 ans de calme dans un pays dont les mesures de sécurité et les lois anti-terroristes valent l’éloge des U.S.A et de son voisin européen, et dans une contrée où les cellules terroristes sont peu active, et dans un cadre socio-politique et stratégique peu favorable à une attaque terroriste, le Maroc se voit victime d’un coup monté par une fanatique qui a supposément prêté allégeance à Al-Qaida. Un observateur doué de sens commun  et de peu de logique politique peut voir que cette situation est plutôt un complot monté en eaux troubles. Ce qui est plus choquant dans l’attaque, qui coïncide étrangement avec les protestations et les démonstrations publiques, c’est qu’elle a été pareillement perpétrée dans une Egypte embrasée par les révoltes dans des conditions similaires à celle du Maroc.

Quand les autorités égyptiennes visèrent une église copte pour dévier l’attention de l’opinion publique envers des dossiers autres que les demandes réformistes, afin de créer une certaine animosité entre coptes et musulmans pour déplacer le centre des combats de peuple-gouvernement vers Musulmans-Coptes, les citoyens égyptiens interceptèrent le message codé envoyé par la clique au pouvoir et ne subirent pas les méfaits d’un conflit ethnique qui aurait perverti la révolution, lui prononçant un verdict final : La mort prématurée !

Ceci dit, au Maroc, les citoyens -bien que quelques un dénoncent l’acte barbare sous différents angles, proférant des indignations envers la DST et son travail pourri, passant par la condamnation des autorités cru complice dans l’inside job Marocain- l’effet voulu s’épanouit directement, avec des ralliements publiques à Jamaa Lfna pour chanter les louanges du roi et réciter l’anathème, des uns allant même jusqu’à combiner l’acte avec le mouvement du 20 février qui sois disant aurait procurer le parapluie social pour faciliter la perpétration d’actes troublants l’ordre publique, et ce en instaurant une situation d’instabilité qui a mis en défaut les services de sécurité et les aurais empêché de faire leur boulot compte tenu leur préoccupation avec les évènements promu par les protestants et démonstrateurs.

Cette stratégie de déviation des centres d’intérêts a été l’un des piliers de la lutte antipopulaire menée par les régimes, toujours trouvant un bouc émissaire pour sauver leurs intérêts : si ce n’est les frères musulmans en Egypte, ce sont les Salafistes au Maroc ou Taliban en Afghanistan.

Comme quoi, si la situation commence à échapper au contrôle du Makhzen, et que la révolte prend de nouvelles dimensions, le bâton de la sécurité national peut toujours être ressorti : Ne joignez pas les démonstrations, restez dans vos maisons, criez les louanges du roi et du pays, sinon, vous foutez la merde dans la nation et vous facilitez le travail des méchants terroristes : C’est ce qu’on appelle une simplification enfantine pour ceux qui n’ont pas pu procéder le message correctement.

Comme si cela ne suffisait pas, l’administration a creusé un peu dans son manuel de survie, et nous a ressortis une nouvelle insulte vis-à-vis de l’envie du public de voir un changement palpable dans ce pays : Retardons le bac, cela fera plaisir aux étudiants qui peut- être fermerons leur gueules et resterons à leur maison afin de réviser pour les examens, comme quoi ils n’auront pas d’excuse pour boycotte le BAC et ainsi enfler le mécontentement public, car on sait bien qu’un étudiant qui rate son bac n’aura autre chose à faire que joindre les manifs. Un signe de bonne volonté envers les étudiants ou une plaisanterie qui ne fait rire que les officiels qui l’ont implanté ? Car je ne savais pas que nos étudiants étaient des super-brainiacs qui récupèrent des mois de révision perdus en une semaine !

Le pic de cette série hilarante de solutions à la hâte pensés par nos responsables politiques fut bel et bien l’invitation du conseil de coopération des pays du golf faite exclusivement au Maroc et à la Jordanie pour joindre le conseil!

Ce qui est hilarant est bien sûr le timing d’une telle invitation et la nature même d’une telle probable intégration du conseil accepté de cœur ouvert par un régime en manque d’aide et de souffle pour combattre le soulèvement populaire.

Ce conseil, dont le vrai nom serait plutôt le conseil de coopération des monarchies arabes, a prouvé une fois de plus la fraternité Arabe, mais cette fois pas entre les peuples mais entre les régimes royaux. Pour sécuriser un régime, rien de meilleur que de baigner le peuple dans les illusions matérialistes des bienfaits du pétrodollar. Nous ne sommes pas un pays du Golf, nous n’avons pas de ressources pétrolières et nous ne sommes pas des Khaliji ? Est-ce ce pourquoi vous êtes en colère ? Le prix de la tomate et les autres dépenses vous surpassent ? Nous, ingénieux officiels et dicteurs de la politique nationale, en ces temps de tensions et de troubles, avons pensé à ramener le Golf et ses bienfaits au Maroc ! Nous vous déclarons officiellement heureux bénéficiaires des bienfaits du Khalij, et nous vous balanceront des billets à tour de bras, pourvu que vous retourniez à vos maisons et que vous arrêtiez ce charabia qui nous donnent des maux de tête.

Si quelqu’un pouvait me donner une explication logique d’une telle invitation qui, rappelons-le n’est pas une action unilatéral –comme certains essaient d’avancer pour innocenter l’administration de tout acte prémédité pour borner le peuple-, mais bel et bien un effort bilatéral mené par notre gouvernement et le conseil bien avant la déclaration publique d’une telle initiative annoncée en direct sur les télévisions et chaines mondiales.

 Sauver le pouvoir, le trône, la monarchie et les royautés absolutistes était et est toujours l’objectif principal de nos régimes corrompus, et pour ce faire, ils sont prêts à tout, des ripostes musclées dictées aux forces de l’ordre jusqu’à la création de leur propre club élitique de monarques arabes -un arche de Noé voulu comme barque de secours  pour sauver ceux que le peuple veut balancer dans la poubelle de l’histoire-, c’est dire combien nos chers leaders pensent aux demandes du peuple et valorisent ses aspirations !

Penser que le peuple sera poussé au silence et à la servitude docile après une aumône faite aux Marocains par les gros princes et Cheikhs pervers du Golf est une grande illusion qui montre à quel point le régime a failli dans sa mission pour comprendre le peuple, la nature de ses demandes et la valeur morale de son entité.

Après tout, ces options étalées devant les autorités marocaines ont failli dans leur mission de pacifier le peuple, nous poussant à méditer sur les nouvelles actions potentielles d’un régime qui veut sacrifier tout, peuple et ressources pour assurer sa stabilité et sa continuité.

Une majeure opération sécuritaire contre le peuple, un nouvel attentat terroriste ou même l’annonce de nouvelles promesses de réformes promulguées par le roi ? Rien n’est sûr pour l’instant, sinon la certitude que ce mythe avancé par ceux au pouvoir disant que le Maroc n’est pas la Tunisie, n’est pas la Libye, n’est pas l’Egypte et n’est certainement pas le Yémen et sur ce ne verra pas la naissance d’un mouvement révolutionnaire contre les symboles de la corruption est au fait un mensonge que les autorités veulent nous vendre à tout prix.

Ceci fut confirmé par les récentes démonstrations à Casablanca, courageusement initiés par les citoyens de Sbata qui ont bravement occupé les rues pour crier leur mécontentement envers un gouvernement obsolète qui n’a en aucun point servi les intérêts du peuple et qui en plus essaie d’entraîner ces forces armées dans d’autres places que des salles de musculations, s’offrant le privilège gratuit d’user des dos des citoyens pour essayer leur matraques nouvellement acquises au lieu de payer pour la construction de centres d’entraînements spécialisés (allez savoir où est passée l’argent allouée à ces centres qui n’ont jamais vu le jour !).

Une chose est sûre dans toute cette histoire :

Qu’on le veuille ou pas, la révolution est à nos portes !

Mohamed Amine Belarbi

Casablanca protests: A new turnout in the Moroccan unrest

Morocco, far from being a paradise on Earth (yet some try to picture it that way) has seen a series of unrest during the last month, troubles which reached the paroxysm with the last protests in Sbata Casablanca, this 29th of May.


The start of a new phase of confrontation between the people and the regime? Many analyze it this way, while the pro-Makhzen forces try to instaure a state of fear and anxiety among people in order to get them out of the streets and push them to flee the protests and the idea of being part of the ongoing demonstrations.


Through the Argana state-mentored terrorist bombings to the Mawazine mass drug the administration tries to promote, the Makhzen has proven to be running out of options in this lost war for oppression and social injustice, a war where the people are ready to offer their bodies as a price to the recovery of dignity and justice. 

Interview with the Saharwi Hunger-Striker Mohamed Yahdih

Interview with the Saharwi Hunger-Striker Mohamed Yahdih as part of the series of clips published after my travel to the Saharawi Refugee Camps.


PART I:

PART II:

More clips coming exclusively on: http://aminebelarbi.blogspot.com/

Mohamed Amine Belarbi

Interview with Sahrawi activists in the Refugee Camps

First of a series of clips released as part of my trip o the Sahrawi Refugee Camps in Algeria.

More videos coming soon!

Refugee Camps diary

I am a Moroccan student going to Tindouf! Yet being the one going, I spent much more time in digesting this idea than the time of my whole trip. Was I a fool or a suicidal to do so, a traitor conspiring with the enemy maybe? No, I was a freeman with a free conscience and free will, looking for something beyond conventional ideas and opinions channeled to me through different mediums.

With only a backpack full of clothes, a laptop without battery and a newly acquired camcorder, I sailed toward an unseen destination, a place lying somewhere in the desert which has witnessed so many events that it ultimately shaped the history of my country as I see it today.

Chapter ONE

When I went into the aircraft and finally found my seat, something strange and interesting happened, pushing me to start a long period thinking and wondering about the essence and nature of my trip to the refugee camps.

Once seated, the first thing I thought was: ‘Awesome, I got the seat next to the window, I’ll have the chance to contemplate the wonders of the view from above!’, and indeed I saw an interesting thing, but the only difference was that we didn’t need to fly over the skies to gaze at the terrific landscapes.

The thing I saw was simply a sentence written on the wing of the plane “Do not walk outside this area”.

Astonishingly, I made a direct connection between the sentence and what I was up to, overlooking the literal meaning of the notice. I was indeed walking outside a specific area; I was getting out of that delimited box which has been shaped for me for so many years. Whether calling it a leap of intellectual freedom or a reality prison-break, it was at the end something beyond the conventional standards almost every Moroccan was abiding by.

A ‘normal’ Moroccan, being generally defined as a nationalistic and patriotist  citizen, would have never dare explore the idea of challenging the official story about the Western Sahara, to critically think about the information we are asked to ingurgitate every day, without wondering about its nature, source and level of veracity.

Whether to refute or to strengthen the pre manufactured opinion every citizen jealous over his national integrity has, my trip was far beyond the simple detective work aimed at modeling a certain political stance over the Sahara issue.

My main purpose was to adopt a new perspective in dealing with issues I had an opinion about, yet never experienced. Hearing about international crisis and throwing shiny statements and speeches in the air, with the only justification of working toward the resolution of the conflict is totally pointless if we have never worked toward analyzing first hand data and direct interaction with the parties involved in the problem.

Media has so long been discredited, and the biased coverage of international events is widely recognized as a political tool to serve specific agendas and parties.

Independence and objectiveness are in nowadays lifestyle myths frozen in the past centuries, or even in the past millenniums since no historical transcripts or documents can testify of a fair and transparent information processing in ancient civilizations where no outside force has intervened to deviate the truth for a certain purpose.

Once I set foot in the college, I knew that a new period of my life has begun, a period characterized by dynamism and action, thing which would push my interaction with the outside world to become full of tension and highly instable.

This tension clearly appeared in the behavior my family had toward my trip and the project I was involved in. As a Moroccan son of a Moroccan family, the fact of intruding the world of officials and political figures, of disturbing the area of the grown-ups who deal with international affairs and sensitive dossiers with my little stubbornness to prove something no-body cared about, was a serious challenge for me and a lifetime battle to definitively trace my path: A conventional obedient citizen or a stubborn troubles seeker rebel.

My choice was clear and not subject to any change or remodeling.

For the simple purpose of gaining self-satisfaction and fulfilling the personal defiance I set to myself, I would have chosen to be the rebel, but my choice was motivated by factors which are far more pure and intellectually high-standardized than to fall into the childish decisions or rushes of revolutionary anti-social needs, typical of all teens who are fed up with social and parental control.

Now that I am writing these lines, I already started feeling the righteousness of my decision. The life of tension and electrical situations, the seeking for adrenaline and spy-agents-like rush of emotions was emerging from the imaginary scenes I used to appreciate during my free-time day-dreaming slot, to the real life situation I was bored of living few days ago.

The flight from Paris to Algiers was quite fast, and before ending up my small play inside my head where I was arrested for spying in the camps and other weird stuff, I found myself in the passport check area, with armed police forces and serious Algerian officers behind the desk, all in uniforms.

The moment I got to talk to the officer charged of the passport inspection, things turned like the endless scenes spinning restlessly in my mind. The officer took a more serious position, hardened his features and asked me what I was attempting to do in Tindouf, as specified in my traveling form. Quite hesitantly I started formulating words about the purpose of my travel, and my shaking hands put several documents on the desk, papers testifying of the cause of my trip, ranging from recommendation letters to written invitations from Saharawi organizations.

The guy seemed oblivious to me for a while, not paying attention to the papers or to my confused speech. Before ending my talk, the officer turned and asked some other people to call a certain ‘Mohamed’. Meanwhile, I was asked to step aside, and the officer sank again in his mechanical work, dealing with the rest of the passengers who seemed to flow constantly.

After few minutes, the supposedly named Mohamed showed up, and from the bits of conversation I got, they were talking about ‘that Marroqui who is screwing something in Tindouf’, a conversation cut short after Mohamed mentioned something about certain ‘people who came in the morning and the Marroqui was with them’. They both looked back at me, smiled and asked me to take my passport and go ahead.

Quite surprisingly, I managed to focus on what was happening after a period of total confusion, since I had no idea about who were those people who came in the morning and with whom I was apparently with, and why I was suddenly freed to leave with no questions or further administrative procedures.

That was how ended a long journey of expectations, fears and excitement about an unknown future where only a blind could find his way, while a normal individual would ultimately end up trapped in the many holes his minds creates, hole not meant to exist, but by the constant effort to speculate and forecast unpredictable events, one’s ends up bringing them to life, regularly feeding them by wondering, fearing and doubting about what’s coming next.

Chapter two:

Finally, after hours of waiting and flying, I found myself in Tindouf, which appeared at first sight like a modern and normal city, far away from the ghost place described constantly by the national media back home.

At the borders checkpoint, the officials followed the normal procedure, taking care of the paperwork and asking for few information, among which one would have caused me troubles if my Saharawi host didn’t show up to finalize the details of my stay and accommodation:                                                      

When I was asked to state the location where I’ll spend my week, I simply answered ‘in the refugee camps’, not knowing that these camps were a set of six separated blocs, each one with a specific name and with a notable population.

I walked outside the small airport, my head still spinning from the realization that I was here, in Tindouf, the stronghold of the Polisario. My bewilderment soon vanished when I knew that this was in no case a Polisario HQ, but rather was an Algerian city, which the close distance from the refugee camps gave the reputation of a Sahrawi city.

After few steps out, a huge and dark Land Rover, with a nice embedded logo in the car door saying ‘PROTOCOLES’, appeared in the street, overshadowing the rest of the vehicles present in the surrounding.

The driver’s appearance was more surprising than anything else: He was small, dark skinned, his head was covered in a black scarf typically folded in the Sahrawi way and he was curved behind the huge wheel, almost his size. Everything contrasted, from the setting to the driver’s appearance, giving the impression that we were in terrorists training camps in Afghanistan.

It sounded unreal when we climbed up the back of the Land Rover, called by the Sahrawis the tank or in Arabic ‘Dabbaba’ for obvious reasons, and started driving along the sandy track at a crazy speed, throwing us in the air from side to side painfully each time the truck bumped on a rock.

Driving in the dark, with dunes everywhere and sand coming out like flames from the ground, I realized that this is the life I was hoping for, the action I wanted to live. A huge smile was on my face the whole trip, but a strong fear was building inside me, a fear from the so called mercenaries the media warned us against, an anxiety from ending up in an unknown place with masked people torturing me and pointing AK-47s at my head.

It was definitely my imagination working full-speed, and the any movies I used to watch apparently substituted craziness to reason in my overwhelmed brain.

The travel from Tindouf to the school of 27^th of February camp was quick, yet the distance we crossed was a considerable 19 Km.

I couldn’t remember how I ended up sleeping in a modest house, but the flash of images recorded during that night gave me the conviction that the most amazing part was yet to come.

Chapter three

After a deep and relaxing sleep, crucial after the 12 hours of travel, I woke up, aware that this time, it wasn’t the fjord I would see when looking outside, but an endless horizon filled with dunes and clay houses, it wasn’t the fresh and cool air of Flekke I would enjoy but a hot and dry wind biting the skin.

I opened my eyes on a bright room I couldn’t recognize, and when I ate eagerly the breakfast, still excited to gaze at the camps, I set off to the door, opening it quickly, only to see at a first glance a ginormous Land Rover again rotting under the sun.

‘Those Land Rovers are everywhere’ I thought!

But when I moved my eyes around, it was barracks everywhere, pieces of metal, barrels and Land Rovers, and above all, red shiny sand and dunes.

It was like the way the Moroccan media depicted them, but as I noticed afterwards, the Saharawi society wasn’t limited to the camps’ superficial appearance, but it was a whole set of customs, traditions, institutions and more.

‘Get in the Land Rover Mohamed’ shouted Hamdi.

We got in and he started to turn on the engine, but the car refused to growl and to give a sign of life. So basically, the first thing I did, as a guest in the camps, was to push a decades old Land Rover on the track until it turned on.

As I spent two or three days in the camps, that Land Rover became part of my daily life, pushing it around two time a day until it accepted to go on its own. The ironic thing was that, once independent from human assistance, the truck turned totally into a war vehicle, or as Hamdi like to repeat a ‘Dabbaba’.

Hamdi never kept on track whenever driving: always moving over rocks and bumps, and driving crazily over the dunes.

I always wondered how it could keep on rolling on its wheels, especially that the dashboard was a set of wires rolled on sticks and rocks. There were no keys; the only thing you needed was connecting two wires to turn the truck on, like in movies.

I was a bit disappointed nonetheless to not see armed forces around, AK-47s or military vehicles. Where were those checkpoints and those walls imprisoning the people here? Nothing!

People were driving around, walking behind their goats or chatting around a cup of tea under the tents.

The myth of the Polisario started falling apart in my mind.

People I met and talked to, stayed with and drank tea among were the most natural and friendly people I ever met.

This posed a new challenge to my beliefs and ideas, since after what I saw and lived, I had to make a huge cleanup in my messy mind, changing a whole story I took for granted into a totally different set of facts and events, but the challenge didn’t stop here. This experience, still freshly started, pushed me to question the dogma of absolute truth, its component and the way to defend myself against the deliberately implemented ideas I was asked and convinced to follow.

Chapter four

A museum in the camps! That was my exclamation when Hamdi told me that we are spending the morning visiting the national museum. The first image to jump into my mind was the conventional setting of a museum with ancient reliques and huge skeletons belonging to unknown creatures, but as usual, the Sahrawis surprised me with a place I could best describe as a History teacher frozen into walls and pieces of papers and metal.

When I got into the truck, Hamdi, with a shiny smile in his face, said “There are no brakes, they were screwed up yesterday!”

WTF! Did I sign up for some sort of survival competition or what?! Every day, it’s a new story with that Land Rover! I still can’t imagine how it is able to be driven anymore.

“Anyway, just make sure to get us alive to that museum!” I replied quietly, almost used to the fact that the truck was falling in pieces, and it was only a matter of days before it dies completely somewhere in the desert.

And so we set off, with NO BRAKES, thing which made our trip to the neighboring camp quite funny, especially when I was hearing Hamdi begging the truck to stop, and praying God that it stood still at the right moment and in the right place.

At some point, we managed to get to the Museum alive; a Museum which I thought at first was a military plant because of the tanks, jeeps and mortars I perceived from the entrance.

We went into the building, accompanied with two military guide, and the modest place, dull and poorly furnished, disappointed my wild expectations. The whole thing was about documents, pictures and lot of readings -which I am not fond of-, reminding me painfully of the History classes back home. But, at some point, paying attention to the guy explaining the issue of colonization and talking fervently about the military confrontations between the Polisario fighters and Moroccan troops, I thought he was talking about a different country than mine. 

Too many facts, too many memories, too many contradictions with my version of the conflict… That was a lot to make you think about. As if it seemed not enough, the last area of the museum, and which I was looking forward to visiting, gave the achieving shot to the excitement which motivated me few hours ago.

The planes, military trucks and missiles didn’t make me clap hands, because I realized these weapons didn’t serve in a movie nor in a parade, but instead it blew people up in bits, made children orphans, women widows and men lifetime haters and revenge seekers of the Moroccan Kingdom. Surprisingly, Morocco had a lot of friends as it appeared from the huge range of arms coming from all over the world, ranging from Israel to Germany and passing by the apartheid period South Africa.

How could a nation of few tens of thousands of people endure all this, yet never give up? How come hundreds of Sahrawi fighters kept up with a well-equipped military machine counting 40 thousand individual at that time? If it’s not the conviction and the faith in a just cause that motivated the Saharawi struggle, then I’ll seriously consider joining the UFO and ET believers clubs. 

But even still confused, I said to myself: This is the great nation you are so proud of belonging to! Look at the exploits your country made; look at the paragraph of history written in blood which will soon remind the world of us, not as heroes or a country of peace, but the oppressing power and oblivious people who gave themselves the right to steal the memory of a nation, the lands and wealth of those who became homeless and deprived from a life of dignity in camps harsher than any prison, yet their will and faith pierced every standing obstacle to reach the conscience of the ones still alive, those who refuse to claim something they don’t own and who cannot accept building their happiness and comfort with the misfortune of others.

Chapter five

Maybe people would tend to suspect and criticize this sudden change in convictions, although I wouldn’t describe the fact that I was supporting the Moroccan position as a conviction I believed in.

It was a natural process for me to be pro Moroccan while discussing the Western Sahara issue, because at that time the only set of information I was exposed to and the ultimate version of history I was taught in school and through the media has never been challenged by alternative sources, within Moroccan borders at least.

But as I was brought into a new setting, where I was claiming something everybody refuted, things started clinging inside my head, and the obvious for me became suspect to change. Is it enough to walk out with a rigid and unshakable opinion just for the sake of preventing my mind from brainwashing and misleading facts other tierce parties might seek to implement? Was I holding the truth only because I believed in it, or is the truth a common good everybody had access t, a common property we are all doomed to partition in the best way possible, not ultimately the more just and fair, but at least what would lay foundations for a consensus on what is true and what is not?

That’s why by challenging my own perception of the conflict, I tried to prove to myself that there is only one way to be comfortable mentally when unveiling your convictions, and that’s through building strong bases for your position, bases which are to be brought to life by direct witnessing and searching in the source place of the issue, criticizing ourselves before others do and never take things for granted.

Life is an endless show full of ‘coups de théâtre’ where things turn out totally wrong, wrong according to our previsions and speculations which might be rooted in fake yet convincing lands, and thus the events which we don’t envisage or don’t want to happen bring us back to new tracks -not necessarily the right ones-, like an enlightenment or a revelation we are the only ones to appreciate and to fully understand, like a precious secret we hold on tightly and confide to ourselves for pleasure and unique satisfaction.   

Mohamed Amine Belarbi

Western Sahara : A new Moroccan approach ?

Being a Moroccan, one would tell himself that any questioning of the sovereignty of Morocco over the Sahara is ultimately a high treason act.

Well, I am a Moroccan and I totally advocate for a clear, transparent and critical approach in dealing with our national policy’s’ top priority.

What pushed us to lose any support for our position worldwide and an international eagerness to sympathize with the Polisario front is definitely the rigid narrow minded foreign and national policies the lawmakers in the Kingdom have been pursuing for so many years.

The essence of any conquest of the hearts and minds is either truth or compassion, and Morocco is way far from having any of these tools in his possession. The Polisario officials have been clever in making the best out of the several resources in their possession, from rare cases of torture and arbitrary arrest, to hunger striking Sahrawis in the camps, all broadcasted worldwide and displaying Morocco as the merciless invader and the Human Rights violator (which sometimes turns to be true!).

I have been brainwashed enough to believe in this concept of total obedience to the authority, and the fear of revising the official statements over the issue has been implemented in our subconscious in a way we started fooling ourselves by claiming we are aware of the historical, political religious and economic history of the Sahara, while we don’t know even the basics of the Western Sahara problem.

I am not here to defend the Polisario front ideology, but rather to question what we have been told and to what extent are we defending wrong causes using false excuses and made up arguments. The authority in Arab countries has long lost its legitimacy in ruling people, and whatever comes from a corrupted administration cannot be considered as relevant under the current circumstances.

The truth, even if it is relative and no one can claim to be right, is nonetheless limited to specific boundaries and scales where the general consensus lay, in order to make this world a livable place where amid confusion one can still perceive the wrong and the right and make upon it decisions and actions.

In the case of the Sahara, the truth is yet to be revealed, but where are the people seeking it? We have been accustomed to the general trend of blind acceptance, and the critical thinking necessary to unveil the details of the issue has been abandoned for the sake of a so called allegiance, allegiance to the throne, to the administration or to corruption itself.

As a Moroccan, it is time for me to throw up my pre-arranged ideas, it is time to say no to stereotypes and clichés, it is time to go by myself find out about my other half of the country, and make up my mind to model my own perception of the conflict, based on first hand data rather than what is channeled every day to us.

I am going to Tindouf and Southern Morocco to revisit history, to analyze the policies in place and to conclude what is the truth, what is the conflict about and what is my stand as part of it.

Here begins the quest, a quest not only for personal satisfaction and self-interest fulfillment, but an adventure to chase the truth in its hometown and open my mind to what’s real instead of what’s supposed to be according to someone or something.

Mohamed Amine Belarbi

Libyan crisis: a new uncalculated adventure?

Once upon a time, the United Nations decided to impose a no fly zone over Libya.

This is how the new chapter of the imperialism adventure has started in the 17^th of March, opening the cursed book of military intervention once again amid international controversies and disagreements.

The scenario, far from being something new for the audience, still had a huge impact on the public opinion which once again was fooled by pointless arguments and baseless assumptions.

The same administrations which led the invasion of Iraq and Afghanistan are now planning for a new crusade, without any consideration for the negative impact and disastrous outcome of their previous decisions.

“We are there to protect civilians and kick out dictatorship. We will bring democracy and Human Rights to the oppressed population”, the only thing they omitted to mention is that the democracy they brought to Afghanistan and Iraq had a totally different interpretation in the U.S dictionary which states:

Arab Uprising: Causes and Impacts

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Mohamed Amine Belarbi

Constitutional reform in Morocco: Is it enough?

After the end of the tensions in Morocco and after the authorities received the warning handed out by Moroccan youth, be it through protests or through political activism, the response was quick and stunning.

Mohamed VI, who has been missing from the political scene since the beginning of the rise of the 20^th February protests call, has made an important and unprecedented step by what is now commonly called the revolutionary speech of the King.

Commented as the first time recently where the King has acted as a leader of the nation, the speech had a huge positive impact not only in the national scene where a good response was issued by both the organizers of the 20^th February protests and their opponents, but also globally where the international community applauded the genuine and realistic approach the king led in dealing with the demands of the people.

What after the 20th February protests?

The 20^th February protests are now part of something commonly called ‘the past’, yet, we shouldn’t believe that with the end of the unrest, all the claims and appeals made during that day are to be forgotten.

Even though being criticized –and I was one of those who affirmed their partial refusal to the protests in my previous post- and widely accused of treason and anarchy, the lessons to grab from these recent events are valuable and raise to the level of national security concerns.

The people, even if they did not agree upon the way to demonstrate their disapproval of the country’s management, are all standing in the same front line when it comes to the necessity of taking action and imposing reforms on a falling government led by several imperialistic families.

A change is needed and there is no way to fool people  with empty promises of a better future because the first and last warning has been issued by all Moroccans in a common call for social justice and government’s organs reorganization.