It is exactly a year ago today that one event triggered an outpouring of anger, frustration and stern determination inside of me to be on the right side of history. Sipping on a tea cup and looking at the messy scenery in front of me, I remember thinking: F$%# it. Its now or never. It was a long time coming, but hearing of the arrest of journalist Ali Anouzla on terror charges caused a special type of indignation from me. The very confident and secure realization that you do not negotiate with a regime like the Moroccan monarchy. You expose it. You monitor it. You track its abuses and make sure the world knows about them. Because these people and their cronies only care about their little existence, nothing else, whatever the consequences. From Mohamed VI to the lowest echelon of Moroccos security apparatus. Said Michael Jackson, they dont really care about us. Anouzla is not a terrorist. Sharing the link to a video broadcasting a call to violence does not make you a terrorist. Nor is it an indication that you endorse the call to violence. Universal basics. Making the logical leap from a web link to an indictment of intention is insane. The speed by which the smear campaign against Anouzla spread in this country is concerning, but most of all disgusting. I remember cutting ties with friends because they thought its okay to arbitrarily incarcerate a citizen for a reason as futile as a web link embedded in an article. Because it posed a threat to security. You know what the biggest threat to Moroccos stability is? A billionaire monarch so oblivious to the realities of his citizens that he exclaims where is the countrys wealth? An elite cheerleading for the same disconnected monarch, because his network of patronage guarantees nobody holds them accountable for their behavior. An institutionalized culture of oppression, corruption, mediocrity and religious bigotry. Social inequalities that are rising by the day, increasing the likelihood that one day, this country will blow up once and for all. Your average Moroccan citizen is angry, confused, bitter and powerless. That is what people like Anouzla worked so hard to expose. Anouzla got punished for our collective reluctance to describe ourselves as we really are. Journalists like him took on that burden. And for what? I met Anouzla a week ago and chatted with him for more than two hours. A gracious, calm and gentle human being with a contagious smile. I know for a fact that he cares deeply about this country. More than the king everybody else is busy sucking up to. More than the sheep eager to swallow the official line on their lives because its convenient. More than I probably care. Because even now, I still sometimes think twice before calling a spade a spade. Ali Anouzla and tens of other journalists are still awaiting trial for speaking truth to power. While you and I get on with our day, lives are being wrecked, families separated, careers destroyed and reputations ruined just because some of our countrymen choose to do the right thing. So while you are proud of Moroccan soccer teams scoring goals, Moroccan singers winning Arab Idol contests or Moroccan doctors getting phony prizes, you can stop and ask yourself: What does being Moroccan today mean anyway?
Posted on: Tue, 16 Sep 2014 19:00:18 +0000
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