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Women, the State, and Political Liberalization: Middle Eastern and North African Experiences
Laurie A. Brand
1998
3. Confronting the Makhzen
The post–1985 political liberalization in Morocco offers a variety of cases that may be used to illustrate the nature of state policy toward or interaction with women and women’s issues. I have singled out the cases I discuss below because of some of the different actors and concerns they highlight. They are: the 1992 million signatures campaign to change the Personal Status Code; the 1993 Thabit sex scandal; the 1993 parliamentary campaigns of two women candidates, Amina Lamrini (PPS) and Badia Sqalli (UNSF); and the preparations for the UN Beijing conference.
The Million Signatures Campaign
In a March 3, 1992 speech Hassan promised constitutional reforms that were to be part of a broader initiative including transparent parliamentary elections and a solution to the Sahara issue. He acknowledged that strikes and a variety of socioeconomic demands were multiplying, but to achieve the goals of his program, he asked the political parties for six months of social peace. 1 This time it was not the parties, the students, or the trade unions, but rather a women’s union that was an unexpected source of disruption.
On March 7, the eve of International Women’s Day, the UAF launched a petition campaign aimed at changing the Personal Status Code (mudawwanah). This was not the first time the UAF had attempted such a campaign: in 1987 it had launched an unsuccessful initiative to put an end to unilateral repudiation by the husband by putting divorce in the hands of a judge. 2 In addition to the general political climate, and the UAF’s gradual move toward more action–oriented work, the decision to launch a new campaign had its roots in a UAF–sponsored study day on women, democracy, and civil society. A letter detailing the program’s results was sent on March 5 to the president of the parliament and to parliamentary groups and political parties, none of which responded. On March 7, the UAF held a press conference and announced its initiative, publishing its demands the following day in the UAF’s magazine 8 Mars.
The UAF’s petition called for the following changes: (1) instituting equality and complementarity between husband and wife in the family; (2) according women, as men, legal competency simply by reaching the legal age of maturity (sinn al&-;rushd); (3) giving women the right to marry without need for a wali (tutor) after reaching the age of maturity; (4) placing divorce in the hands of a judge and granting women the same bases as a man for seeking a divorce; (5) stipulating that both spouses have the same rights and obligations in marriage; (6) outlawing polygamy; (7) giving the wife the same right as the husband to guardianship over their children; and (8) establishing work outside the home and education as rights the husband cannot dispute. 3 Although the issue of equal inheritance rights was raised in the initial discussions and appeared in the first set of demands in 8 Mars, it was not ultimately included in the petition.
The response of the opposition political parties to the petition was very disappointing from the women’s perspective. The parties’ positions derived from a number of factors: the sensitivity of the issue for kutlah coordination as the first parliamentary elections in years approached; the men’s general lack of interest in women’s issues; and the problem of interparty rivalries. Since the petition campaign was the UAF’s initiative, some party activists questioned why they should support an initiative that derived from the OADP (even if the UAF women continue to protest their independence from it).
As UAF president Latifa Jbabdi stated:
| we suffered, not only from the state or the Islamists, but also from the political parties. We suffered innumerable pressures to stop the campaign. . . . I had contacts with the parties, and was attacked more than I ever was by Islamists . . . by the USFP and the Istiqlal. For them, to touch the mudawwanah was to touch a taboo which would then create problems.” 4 |
Hence, even what would have appeared to be their natural constituency, the non–Islamist, opposition parties, were not only unwilling to provide support, but also actively opposed the women on this issue, which they viewed as divisive. Not until the king became involved (see below) did the political parties show any real interest. 5
Since most activist women were in accord that the mudawwanah was retrograde, the UAF decided to work for a united approach to the problem. To that end, it organized a two–day seminar (April 18–19) on the mudawwanah. Out of this gathering a “National Committee of Coordination to Change the Mudawwanah and to Defend the Rights of Women” was formed in the presence of representatives from a majority of women’s organizations and party sections. The meeting decided to call upon specialists and human rights associations to draft proposals for change. It was on this point, however, that the consensus broke down. The UAF wanted to take on the entire mudawwanah, or at least many aspects of it, at one time. Other groups felt there would be a better chance of success if they focused on just one issue at a time. But it was the UAF’s initiative, and it decided to present a series of demands. 6
Political party considerations ultimately forced the USFP and OFI women officially to withdraw from coordination with the UAF, although the group was then joined by the Comité de la Femme Ouvrière (newly created in the Union Marocaine de Travail—UMT), women’s sections from the newly created Parti de la Renaissance et du Socialisme, as well as by other women labor union activists, researchers, and lawyers. The campaign targeted all democratic forces in the country—men and women—in an effort to reach the goal of collecting one million signatures. 7
By early April opposition had already appeared among the ulama and the Islamist organizations. In the broader division of labor, it has long been state policy to leave matters related to women and the family to the realm of the ulama, who have traditionally been very narrow in their interpretation of Islamic law, even though the state has fought Islamist influence in other areas. 8 The initial response came in the Islamist newspaper Al–Nur, but it was al–Islah w–al–Tajdid’s weekly, al–Rayah, which led the attack. In its issue of April 20, 1992, an article by a relatively unknown ‘alim (Islamic scholar) strongly condemned the UAF petition on an number of points (one of which, inheritance, was not part of the final text) and stated that abrogating elements of the shari‘a was apostasy, a crime punishable by death. The unstated conclusion of such a charge was that the women could then be murdered without retribution. The article further stated that the use of the issue of the mudawwanah was not driven entirely by national motives:
| Today more than ever this issue aims at conspiring against Islam to eliminate it, to remove what is left of Islamic law in the Muslim world (Dar al–Islam), and to achieve a complete westernization of the world. |
Attacks along the same lines and in the same threatening tone continued in al–Rayah as well as in other Islamist papers (especially al–Sahwah, but also al–Huda, al–Nur, and al–Farqan) for several weeks. 9 The Islamists also launched their own signature campaign in opposition to that of the UAF, targeting sectors not penetrated by the women’s groups, particularly high school women. The final stage in the exchange came on July 6, when al–Rayah published a letter from a group of ulama. In the letter, which was based on a memorandum they had submitted to the prime minister and the speaker of parliament, they called the campaign part of a larger plot against the Arab and Islamic world, insisted that it was a group of men (affiliation or origin not specified) who were in fact directing the women, called the women apostates, and demanded the application of the appropriate judgement, which in Islam, is death.
Neither the Islamist groups’ nor the ulama’s response addressed the women’s core concerns. Their answers were all based on a rejection of the right of these women (generally leftists) to interfere in matters related to religion. A high–ranking official of al–Islah w–al–Tajdid explained that the problem was that of a completely different set of reference points. No matter what these women said about ijtihad (independent interpetation), given the content and form of their demands, the women were in fact basing their objections and demands on codes and principles from outside an Islamic context. The problem arose when they then tried to artificially situate their demands within the framework of the shari‘a. 10 The Islamists also argued that they were not inciting to violence, but were merely reminding people of God’s judgment in such matters. Indeed, they turned the charge on its head by insisting that it was the women’s demands that constituted a form of incitement against Islamic society. They denied that they were opposed to changing the mudawwanah, as long as it was within the framework of established religious principles. 11 They insisted that what the UAF women were demanding compromised, rather than expanded, women’s rights. 12
The signature campaign apparently also opened the way for different religious factions—the state ulama and the Islamists—to contest power. Several of the early articles in Islamist publications criticized the Moroccan religious establishment for its silence on the issue 13 and for failing to respond to the needs of Muslim society in a changing world. 14 When the official ulama did finally respond, not only did both groups coincide in their assessment, but the ulama used the Islamist papers to publish their responses. As one analyst observed, given the way the opposition developed, it was worth asking where to draw the line between the ulama and the Islamists. 15 This then raises a second point: that the vehemence of the response resulted, not only from a concern with maintaining the “last bastion of Islamic law,” but also from a competition between the Islamists and the ulama over their political and religious role. Making their voices heard became particularly important for the Islamists given the authorities’ continued refusal to license them in the context of the approaching parliamentary elections. 16 It is also possible that part of the reason for the virulence of the response was not just what the women said, but the wide debate they sparked. 17 Had their signature campaign been ignored, it is possible that the controversy would have never erupted.
The women did call upon the state to intervene to stop the incitement to violence against them, but received no response. The AMDH issued a statement, published in the UAF’s 8 Mars, 18 in which it defended the women’s initiative on the grounds of freedom of opinion, and noted that there was no textual referent in Moroccan law calling for punishment of anyone who seeking to change the mudawwanah. Since the parliament is the responsible legislative authority and the courts are responsible for implementation of the laws, the AMDH called the alim’s fatwa (religious ruling) an attack on the law, the parliament, and the courts. As for the more mainstream and powerful OMDH, although the UAF fought for it to take a position on the fatwa, initially the organization refused, reportedly concerned about creating problems with the Islamists. 19 However, when the OMDH did finally issue its statement three months later, in July, it was quite strong. It stated that the issuing of fatwas pronouncing sanctions against citizens who freely express their opinion within the framework of the law is not only a form of terrorism, but also a transgression of the law and a usurpation of judicial power. The OMDH also reaffirmed its support for reform of the mudawwanah and called for a spirit of tolerance and dialogue in discussions of the subject. 20
In the meantime, the UAF was busy collecting signatures. Work began during Ramadan, and the women therefore held meetings after iftar (the meal after the day’s fast) to explain the petition. They sponsored seminars and used other gatherings to which they were invited to discuss the issue and collect signatures. Women also went door to door in neighborhoods and to public baths. Not until late summer did the king finally intervene. Since he is the Commander of the Faithful, issues related to Islam are deemed to be properly his prerogative. To a certain extent, then, it was simply an exercising of this role to become involved in addressing a matter (personal status law) which, more than any other body of law, draws heavily on Islamic texts. Second, however, was the issue of the constitutional reforms. It will be recalled from chapter 1 that by this time the parliamentary elections had already been postponed until spring 1993 because the political parties were dissatisfied with proposed changes in the electoral law. 21 In this context, the king was keen to secure broad participation in the upcoming referendum on his proposed amendments (which were released a few weeks later). The women’s mobilization and the Islamist response threatened to sidetrack the discussions and take the spotlight off the referendum. Some argued that the king also intervened to save the political parties from having to take a stance so that kutlah unity would be preserved and would help ensure broad support for the constitutional changes in the near term. Others contended that with parliamentary elections postponed for only eight months (although municipal elections were scheduled for October) the king did not want the opposition parties to be able to use the women’s mobilization to their own advantage. Finally, developments in Algeria, which had just seen its democratic experiment ended abruptly by a military coup that had put an end to Islamist hopes of winning a parliamentary majority, were on everyone’s mind.
In such an atmosphere, the women’s signature initiative posed both opportunities and challenges to the monarch. The opportunity lay in potentially pleasing a mobilized and politicized group prior to the referendum. The king must also have been interested in how his adoption of the women’s campaign would play in Europe (where Moroccan women had succeeded in publicizing the initiative), given the kingdom’s continuing desire to enter the EU. Nevertheless, Hassan did not want quarreling over the mudawwanah campaign to rupture the kutlah, nor did he want to appear to be giving in under pressure. He certainly did not want to alienate the ulama, a traditional source of state support, nor allow the controversy that had developed to escalate into violence or confrontations between secularists and Islamists. Finally, he would not have wanted an issue related to religion to have developed a momentum of its own, outside of his control.
Hence, all the key indicators militated in favor of his involvement, but in a demobilizing framework. In a July 29 speech launching voter registration for the municipal elections, he thanked the Moroccan woman for her participation and said he would address her before the elections regarding her place in society. Then in a August 20 speech, Hassan gave priority to the question of women and to the constitutional reform. He acknowledged women’s complaints about the mudawwanah and its application, but he entreated women not to mix these problems with the constitutional referendum and the electoral campaign, urging them to keep them “outside of politics” to avoid an explosive combination that would risk upsetting the equilibrium of Moroccan society. He called upon the women to address themselves to him directly, to write to the royal cabinet of their concerns. As Amir al–Mu’minin, he was the authority who would apply and interpret religion. To calm the concerns of the Islamists and other traditionalists, he promised to consult the ulama on the issue. 22 In this way he succeeded in defusing the issue by adopting it himself and by establishing a committee that would have months to deliberate and decide upon recommendations. As one analyst put it, he intervened, not to guide or orient the discussion, but to end it. Once he said “no more,” no one dared to continue the discussion, and he thereby deprived the women of the fruits of their remarkable campaign. 23
Just prior to the referendum, the Ministry of the Interior invited female representatives from the political parties and a number of women from government ministries to meet with the king. The UNFM, which had played no role in the signature campaign, was accorded preeminence: its president was treated as the leader of the group, it was allowed fourteen (one source says twelve) representatives, while the other groups were allowed only one invitee each, and its leaders were responsible for introducing the other invitees to the king. 24 Again in this meeting the king defined the problem as apolitical: “In reality, your problems are of a familial nature. They are numerous. You are not complaining about your political rights, nor about problems related to freedom, but more in the framework of the family.” 25
Once the king became involved and before he placed the issue above discussion, the mudawwanah became a subject of interest to the national (official) media, whereas up to that point, only the Islamist papers noted above and the OADP’s Anoual had given coverage to the petition campaign. Television discussions of reforming the mudawwanah allowed the issue to reach an even wider audience. Many men and women had never seen articulate women debate the ulama on a religious topic. Hence, the king’s involvement also served further to publicize the issue and, indirectly, to educate the public. The conclusion seems to be that many more than the one million signatures hoped for were obtained.
On September 19, 1992, the OMDH called for the inclusion in discussions of revisions of the mudawwanah not only those specialized in Islamic law, but also other jurists, as well as specialists in human rights, economics, and sociology. 26 However, the committee assembled by the king was far more conservative than had been envisaged by the OMDH call. It was composed of: two royal advisers, the minister of justice, the minister of habous (religious endowments), a member of the Royal Academy, four members of regional councils of ulama, four professors of religious sciences, the president of the Islamic university, Qarawin, the secretary–general of the Royal Consultative Council on Human Rights, two high–level magistrates, three professors of law, and one woman (Chbihanna Hamdate) the chargée de mission at the royal cabinet. 27
Its recommendations were finally announced on September 29, 1993, almost a full year later and shortly before the then–recently elected parliament began its first session. The changes suggested by the council of ulama and signed into law by the king were the following. In the section on marriage, a woman who had reached the age of maturity and who was an orphan was allowed to contract her marriage herself (without a wali), or could choose her own wali. (This seemed very strange to women—that a woman who was an orphan was effectively treated as a major, but that all others continued to require a wali.) In addition, the phrase “the woman does not contract her own marriage” was dropped, leaving only “the woman delegates her wali to contract the marriage for her.” The husband was henceforth required to inform the first wife of his desire to take a second wife, and was required to obtain the permission of a judge for such a marriage. In the section regarding dissolution of the marriage contract, a new provision required the presence of the two parties to register the divorce as well as the permission of the judge to implement the divorce, thus putting some (minor) constraints on unilateral repudiation. In the section on birth and children, the ulama designated the father as next in line after the mother for the guardianship of the children and gave the male child upon reaching age 12 and the female upon reaching age 15 the right to decide with which parent s/he chose to live. Tutorship of the boy continues until he reaches the age of maturity and that of the girl until she marries. Tutorship was given to the mother after the father, whereas before, it had gone first to the father and then to the judge or whomever the father designated. 28
Women activists and others agreed that the changes were a great disappointment given the numerous proposals that had been made. Indeed, in the wake of the announced changes, a number of criticisms were leveled at the handling of the signature campaign. For example, the head of the OFI, Latifa Benani–Smires, one of the two women elected to parliament in 1993, felt that a less confrontational approach should have been followed: given the sensitive nature of the issue, the nature of Moroccan society and the timing, the way should have been paved gradually ahead of time through work to change public opinion. 29
Why had the UAF women felt compelled to act even in an atmosphere characterized by a resurgence of religious conservativism? While I did not pose this question directly to any of the women, the answer seems clear. First, the king’s and political parties’ discussions of domestic political reform seemed to open the possibilities for dialogue on questions beyond narrow electoral issues. Second, and more generally, if women continue to wait for “more opportune” moments—moments when all variables seem to working in their favor—they may well wait forever. Worse, they may well awaken one morning and find that they have lost rights they thought they had and be forced to engage in a rear–guard action against further assaults. Indeed, the suggestion that women should wait for a more appropriate time (less controversial, for whatever reason) to press their demands sounds like a modification of the national liberation arguments of the 1950s and 1960s or the leftist arguments of the 1960s and 1970s according to which women were supposed to defer to the imperatives of the nationalist or the class struggle. In sum, most of the women interviewed for this study, among them many who worked on the signature campaign or in a parallel activity, felt the effort had been worthwhile, despite the minor legal changes secured, because it demonstrated that the mudawwanah was not an immutable, sacred text. Women also pointed out that according to his pronouncements, the king had left the door open to future amendments or changes.
Evaluation
First, the very launching of such a campaign, circulating petitions, and accumulating signatures aimed at changing the law would have been impossible outside of a process of political liberalization. (It was not, however, central to raising the issue for discussion, for that occurred several times in the late 1970s.) Second, the moving force behind the campaign, the UAF, was, itself, established in the early days of the liberalization process. On the other hand, the signature campaign also shows how marginal women and their concerns continue to be at the national level and how few allies they manage to enlist. Most glaring in its absence was the support of the political parties, from which the most active women’s organizations have sprung. The liberalization meant that the king was willing to open up greater political space for opposition participation, and they wanted to take advantage of it to the fullest. For the parties that meant not allowing the women’s concerns to cause the kutlah to flounder. At worst, however, the men were simply acting according to their own deeply held political convictions: either that women’s issues needed to be postponed or subordinated to the larger national or class issues, or, as in the case with the PI, that the idea of challenging the mudawwanah itself was problematic. Unwilling to sacrifice the potential strength that the kutlah provided and unconvinced of a possible offsetting strength to be gained from women as a result of party support for these issues, the parties simply refused to take an active role.
As for the king, the manager of the liberalization, there was a great deal at stake: the constitutional referendum, the support of the ulama, the possibilities for a future alternance based on a bloc opposition. The number of times the king urged the women not to let the mudawwanah become mixed up with political issues (as well as the menacing tone he used “Iyyaki thumma iyyaki”—“do not dare”) 30 is significant. By adopting the issue himself, the king lifted it above the political fray, saving the parties from having directly to adopt or reject the women’s mobilization. By establishing a council, he provided the semblance of serious attention, while at the same time calming the most conservative elements through filling its ranks with traditionalists. In the end, then, the changes had to be accepted by conservatives, and the women could not really reject the amendments since they had been granted them by the king.
The Thabit Affair
In early February 1993, not quite a year following the launching of the campaign to amend the mudawwanah, and only four months before the long–awaited parliamentary elections, Hadj Mohammed Mustapha Thabit, a police commissar for the Ain Sebaa–Hayy Mohammedia area near Casablanca, was arrested after two young women filed a complaint charging him with abduction and rape. The story that gradually emerged was of the commissar’s involvement in the rape of some five hundred women (according to his own testimony) over the course of at least 13 years. Sometimes lured by the offer of assistance (in obtaining a passport, for example), sometimes abducted by force, the women were taken to a small apartment where they were assaulted (all recorded on video tape). To those young women who had been virgins prior to the assault, Thabit provided the address of a gynecologist who could “repair the damage” and even issue them a certificate of virginity.
This was the first time that important members of the police bureaucracy—not only Thabit and his immediate group, but also other high–ranking officials in the security and information establishment—had been served up before public opinion. 31 While the official media were silent, the others had an unprecedented field day. Thabit’s defense was that he was mentally disturbed, although he also noted, reportedly with pride, that he had never sought medical treatment. The commissar was ultimately sentenced to death, while several of his colleagues were sentenced to lesser terms (life, twenty years, ten years) for their collaboration and cover–up. The entire process from arrest to execution lasted less than two months.
The story raised many questions about the abuse of power in a country where the security services very closely monitor society. While some women were intimidated, shamed, or terrorized into not reporting the violence, evidence of Thabit’s crimes was not lacking. For example, he had been police commissar in Beni Mellal, a town about halfway between Marrakesh and Fes, until 1980, when a minor whom he had abused threw herself from a window. Although the local socialist MP denounced the scandal in writing to the ministers of the interior and justice, Thabit was subsequently named director of security in Rabat. Two years later he was promoted to a position in Casablanca, and three years thereafter named to the post in Ain Sebaa, one of the four prefectures in the country’s largest city, a position of tremendous power for a man on whom the makhzen clearly felt it could depend. 32 In 1990, another young woman had filed a complaint against him, but several of his commissar friends had convinced her to withdraw the charges and then wrote to the state prosecutor that the incident had been a misunderstanding caused by some malicious people.
Thus, one had a case of morals, political corruption, and sexual violence against women. It was a combination that could have given rise to substantial mobilization of women’s groups, supported by other broad sectors of society. 33 Yet, it did not trigger the same mobilization as had the mudawwanah campaign. Why were the women not able to make use of the Thabit case to revive coordination?
The most broadly based initiative deriving from Thabitgate, as it came to be called, was the publication in early April of a joint communiqué by the women’s sections of all the major political parties, the women’s unions, women’s human rights groups, and women’s sections of labor unions. The communiqué made several basic points. First, it argued that the Thabit affair was simply one manifestation of administrative corruption. In the absence of a state of law, this authority had been transformed from an instrument to serve the citizenry into an instrument to observe, control, and subjugate. Second, it insisted that the attempt to portray this as an isolated, individual matter obscured the fact that this was an abuse of power and influence. Third, the large number of women who were victims of Thabit et al. were glaring examples of the exploitation and double oppression that women suffer—as citizens but also as females—given their inferior economic, social and legal rights. Fourth, it called sexual violence one of the ugliest forms of violence against women and their dignity. The women’s organizations demanded a comprehensive investigation into all cases of economic and political corruption as well as crimes that touched human rights, inside or outside police stations and prisons. 34 As one analyst points out, the call, not for specific changes in laws, but for a broader examination of corruption, was a major departure from the strategy employed in the mudawwanah campaign. 35
While this communiqué was the one unified women’s response, it was not the only attempt by women to become involved in the case as it unfolded. Indeed, one unprecedented move was the attempt by several women’s groups to join the case against Thabit as civil plaintiffs. Lawyer ‘Aicha Loukhmas and three other UAF members were responsible for filing the request. According to Loukhmas, the union had initially intended to contact the other women’s organizations so that through coordination a united plan could be devised. However, in the end the UAF, ADFM, and AMDF all attempted individually to join the case as civil plaintiffs. These requests were ultimately denied, although both the UAF and ADFM stated that they were not surprised by the denial of their requests, given the lack of precedent. 36 In addition, a number of women’s groups, along with other political forces, attempted to organize a demonstration, permission for which was denied by the government. In the end there was a sit–in at the Istiqlal headquarters, but nothing more was permitted. 37
With parliamentary elections only a few months away, the reaction of the political parties focused primarily on those aspects of the case that dealt with political corruption. The PPS made three primary observations: the first concerned the abuse of police power and the need for reform in this department; the second concerned women, noting how common moral and physical violence against women was in Morocco; and the third concerned the extent to which the case demonstrated the crisis of social and political values in the country. 38 The USFP political bureau demanded the resignation of all those who had a political or administrative tie to the Thabit affair and stressed that the scandal offered an opportunity to take legal and administrative measures to protect society from corruption, especially that deriving from positions of authority. 39
The PI’s L’Opinion carried a number of articles by editor–in–chief Khalid Jamai which focused on the need for reform in the police force. The OADP’s position was that the Thabit affair was worse than a scandal, and that it could not have happened were the political situation not such that authorities were allowed to abuse citizens. It argued that the case against Thabit was not an isolated incident, and cited numerous other examples of assaults against women, extortion and abuse of influence. It further criticized the secrecy of the trial sessions as well as the fact that the entire process compromised Thabit’s rights to a fair trial. 40
The Islamists also weighed in. Many of their points echoed those raised by the secular opposition, as they asked how such practices could continue for so long undetected. They stated clearly that such a case called into question the legitimacy of an apparatus with wide responsibilities for community and national security, but they also held responsible for the corruption broader state policies toward women and the family which, in the name of liberation and equality, had pushed them toward unveiling and mixing with men. The silence of the ulama on the issue was criticized (as it had been with regard to the mudawwanah campaign). Al–Islah w–al–Tajdid issued an official statement on March 9 which, in addition to indicting the state authorities, blamed an inferior educational system that, it contended, did not prepare people to confront attacks against their honor. It said that such a case raised the issue of the moral decay of citizens generally and of women in particular in the face of material pressures and insisted that such a case showed the need to implement shari‘a. 41
Outside the political party opposition, the OMDH also issued a number of statements on the Thabit case. Several weeks into the case it noted a number of irregularities, including: the limited nature of the investigations and the speed with which they took place; the inappropriate role played by the prosecutor, who often spoke without the authorization of the presiding judge, interrupting and sometimes intimidating the defense lawyers; and the court’s refusal to call witnesses needed by the lawyers of certain of the accused. All of these elements, according to the OMDH, called into question the fair character of the trial as well as the independence of the judiciary. 42
The official media were initially silent, until an article was published just before the release of the verdict on March 11 in the official Le Matin du Sahara. It insisted that in Morocco, the preeminence of the law was fundamental and that the king, after learning the facts of the case, had immediately moved to begin judicial proceedings against “an employee of the National Security charged with crimes of an extreme gravity.” The government action was described as demonstrating that no one was above the law in the country, no matter what their position. The article stressed, however, in describing Thabit’s acts as isolated, that his behavior should not in any way reflect on the entire National Security service. In other words, while admitting Moroccans’ right to be outraged, the article nonetheless clearly sought to discourage the tendency to generalize from the corruption of this case to the entire state apparatus and regime.
Evaluation
The political sensitivity of the case, as suggested by the regime’s official response, and the approach of elections, go a long way toward explaining why mobilization around this issue did not, indeed would not have been allowed to, take a form similar to that of the mudawwanah campaign. At base, many of the criticisms leveled during this period called into question the whole makhzenian form of rule. 43 Indeed, the opposition parties sought to frame the case in such a way as to put the political system itself on trial. In any event, it seems certain that the short duration of the trial may be explained by the regime’s desire to put an end to such discussions as well as to preempt any possibility that a longer investigation might well implicate more, and higher–ranking, people.
The regime’s desire to keep such discussions to a minimum was also no doubt linked to the approach of parliamentary elections. While the king wanted to see the opposition make a respectable showing to provide a basis for his alternance proposal, he was not interested in having the opposition pose a real challenge to the royalist majority in the parliament. An extended period of mobilizing around the Thabit case could have been used by the political parties for just such a purpose. The short period of time between arrest and execution helped to keep opportunities to mobilize to a minimum. Although women’s groups reacted swiftly, probably energized in part by the mobilization they had achieved during the mudawwanah campaign, real lobbying possibilities would probably have required a longer trial.
There is also the shame factor, which may have inhibited women’s ability to mobilize around the case. For many, the details of the case were simply too awful or embarrassing even to discuss. 44 Finally, there appears to have been a coordination problem between at least the ADFM and the UAF. These two groups, described by observers as the two most important (in terms of activity and capability) women’s groups in Morocco, appear unable to work together. Neither group’s discussion of its efforts mentions the other.
Does this mean that the women’s actions were totally without effect? Not at all. As a number of the articles written about the case indicate, Thabitgate highlighted the problem of violence against women, a subject that had long been taboo in Moroccan society. Both the UAF and the ADFM mentioned this issue in statements of their evaluation of the import of the case. In the wake of the trial the UAF suggested that a punitive deterrent was not sufficient to put an end to violence against women. What was needed were public awareness and educational campaigns through the media and other institutions. 45
In a newspaper article, the ADFM’s Rabea Naciri made the connection between the mudawwanah and violence against women, arguing that the law in fact legitimates such violence: it authorizes the husband as head of the household to hit his wife when she disobeys him; it allows a husband to kill his wife in the case of adultery; it permits him to prevent his wife from traveling, and gives him the right to marry his daughter to someone against her will. The “moral violence” ends up legitimating physical violence. At very least, the Thabit case broke the silence regarding violence. 46
This is not to imply that the Thabit affair has led to a broad discussion of violence in Moroccan society. It does, however, seem to mark the beginning of a more open discussion in the media of the problem of violence against women. As Anoual noted, “this case broke the taboo which surrounded the issue of rape. For the first time we witnessed the newspapers discussing this problem on the first page, whereas in the past it was always a part of the forbidden or shameful issues found in the interior pages.” 47 According to testimonies, it also led to the opening of a number of centers to deal with violence against women. First to do so was the UAF, 48 but subsequently an advice center and hotline was opened in Casablanca under the direction of lawyer and OMDH activist Zineb Miadi in April 1995. There have also been a number of conferences held on the question of violence against women and the legal protection offered to women, such as a major conference held in Casablanca in mid–June 1995, organized by the Association Marocaine des Droits de la Femme (AMDF) and funded by Friedrich Ebert Stiftung.
Women and the Parliamentary Elections: Two Candidates
A third case that illustrates women’s political potential and possibilities during periods of liberalization may be found in female candidates’ experiences during the parliamentary elections of 1993. Below are the stories of two women with long political involvements, each in an opposition party, and each of whom ran in a district in a large city: Amina Lamrini (Rabat) of the PPS (and president of the ADFM), who failed in her election bid; and Badia Sqalli (Casablanca) of the USFP, who is one of only two women who won parliamentary seats in 1993.
Amina Lamrini 49
Although she had never served in elected public office, Amina Lamrini had a long history as a party activist. In 1975 she was elected to the Central Committee of the PPS. She later rose to membership in the Political Bureau of the party and to the presidency of the ADFM, which developed out of, but which she insists is independent of, the PPS. Lamrini’s decision to run for office came as a result of a roundtable held by the ADFM shortly after the launching of the mudawwanah campaign with representatives of a variety of organizations. The meeting produced a new group, the Comité National pour la Promotion des Droits Politiques de la Femme, which, among other things, called upon women to become more involved in the political process. She had long called for greater women’s participation in the political process. Yet, as she said, “one cannot continue to complain that women never run if you are unwilling to run yourself.”
She began her campaign about a month before the elections, even though the official campaign season was only 15 days long. Unlike Badia Sqalli, whose story follows, Lamrini had no problems convincing her party to let her run in a particular district, at least in part because the PPS really did not expect to win any seats. She ran in a middle–class, popular quarter in Rabat where she was not terribly well–known, because she had only recently moved there. She held some 63 meetings in a month, sometimes three or more in one day. The meetings were of various sizes—20, 30, 40, 80 people—and in a variety of settings from homes to public places. In the end, Lamrini lost, having received 7 percent of the vote, which she felt was a respectable showing given that she had inferior financial resources and that the male candidate who won was from the USFP–PI bloc. 50
Lamrini noted that she was able to draw on her background as an education inspector, as she spent long hours in what she called elementary civics lessons: explaining what the parliament is, how it works, what municipalities are, how elected officials’ responsibilities differ, and why people should participate in elections. Often, she said, the entire session would pass without her having explained anything about her own political position. She also mentioned the learning experience the campaign provided. She had known there was poverty in Rabat, but this was the first time she had really seen it. She also learned that changing the mudawwanah was far from the immediate concerns of average women; for most, issues like clean water and electricity take precedence. In sum, she felt it was very important that two women won parliamentary seats and that this marked the beginning of a new struggle.
Badia Sqalli 51
Like Amina Lamrini, Badia Sqalli has had a long history of political party activism, but with the USFP. Unlike Lamrini, Sqalli had previous electoral experience on both a municipal and parliamentary level. In 1976 she was a candidate for municipal elections in Casablanca and lost. She contended that there had been clear government interference against her candidacy, a handicap compounded by the fact that she was running against someone with real financial clout. She did realize, however, as did Lamrini, that the population was not terribly concerned about whether it was a man or a woman who was running. They were most interested in her ideas. For example, she told the story of how, after one campaign meeting, an elderly and bearded man came up to her and said, “May God assist you my daughter. One finds in the river what one does not find in the sea.”
After this experience, she ran in the municipal elections of 1983 and won. At the time her party leadership wanted to show its interest in women and women’s issues, so they suggested that she become municipal council president. However, she was afraid that people were not yet ready to accept the idea of a woman in such a position. Indeed, in the discussions of the issue, one party member quoted a hadith (a saying of or about the Prophet Muhammad) warning against women’s assuming positions of political power. She determined that it was wiser to renounce the possible appointment and she served instead as the first vice–president.
Her next experience was in the 1984 legislative elections. She decided to run in the traditionally USFP district of al–Ma‘arif, and it therefore took little prodding of the party hierarchy to approve her candidacy. However, she contended that it was clear from certain statements that the authorities did not want a woman to win, but that they hid behind the religious authorities, raising doubts about a woman’s abilities and right to legislate. She noted other forms of harassment as well. For example, at gatherings she did not attend, one of her male opponents reportedly cast aspersions on her character because she is not married (she is a widow) and because she smokes. When it came to the actual polling, the examples of state interference were numerous and clear: her observers were barred from the polling places, and the authorities refused to give voting cards to some voters.
In the meantime, as vice–president of the municipal council, she was able to gain valuable experience, and when it came time to choose candidates for the 1993 legislative elections, she was well–known. In the prelude to the campaign, female party members strongly urged the parties to enlist more women candidates. In the end, the results were disappointing: she was one of only two USFP and three female kutlah candidates. At the same time, there was a battle in the party regarding in which district she would run. They wanted her to run in a middle– and upper–class area where they thought that a woman would have a better chance to win. This was a dilemma for her, for on the one hand she wanted to be elected, but on the other she wanted to demonstrate that a woman could be elected from a “popular district.” 52 At the same time, the Islamists were more developed as a force in 1993 than they had been in 1984, so this increased the challenge as well as the possibility that she might be confronted by them. In the end, the Islamists did not create problems, and only a few people challenged her on religious grounds. This time she was victorious, and she succeeded in keeping her seat in the 1997 parliamentary elections.
Evaluation
Sqalli insisted that, whatever the election, one faces a number of challenges. One must be accepted by men, but one must also succeed in mobilizing women. In 1993, as we have noted, there was a great deal of discussion and publicity around the idea of getting women into parliament, and given the mudawwanah campaign and the Thabit affair, women were more mobilized. She also noted, however, that Morocco does not have opinion polling organizations, and so it is not known what it is that makes people vote for one candidate or another. One factor about which there is no doubt is that vote–buying, although against the law, plays an important role, especially in poorer areas. Add to that the fact that the centrist (royalist) parties have more money at their disposal, and seem to use it quite generously around election time, and you have the explanation for a great deal of voting behavior.
Despite her loss, Lamrini considered the experience a successful one. In the first place, she met with hundreds of people, many of them men and many of whom had never before talked politics with a woman or even heard a woman discussing politics. But she did not focus exclusively or even largely on women’s issues. She talked about the state budget, unemployment, and agricultural policy. In this way, she felt her efforts had helped to pave the way for other women, by showing men that women can represent them and their interests. Lamrini also noted that the mere presence of women candidates begins to accustom the young to seeing women involved in politics.
Regardless of the 1993 outcome, Sqalli was unsure of the extent to which the authorities may have changed their position regarding female candidates. What is clear, she contended, is that if they do not want someone to be elected, they are capable of interfering to prevent it. There was some question in 1993 as to whether the authorities would let women win, especially opposition women. The answer, at least in 1993 and 1997, was obviously “yes.” In comparing her legislative election experiences, Sqalli said that the USFP’s 1993 kutlah alliance with the PI had certainly enhanced her chances of winning. At the same time, the election was more open, and she had gained a great deal of experience in governing. Probably just as important, in 1993 and 1997 the authorities had no reason to oppose her campaign: there was nothing threatening in it, and the idea of opposition parties working with the government had been embraced by both the king and the opposition.
The Beijing Women’s Conference: Preparations and Impact
The Ministry of Work and Social Affairs was responsible for coordinating the production of the kingdom’s national report for the UN Beijing conference. The government’s initial plan was to hire a group of experts to write the national report, which they planned to show to NGO representatives who, on the margins of the government committee, were supposed to prepare their own materials for consideration. But the NGO women strongly objected to the idea of consultants putting together a report that would be largely statistical in nature. The various NGOs themselves had been working on numerous topics, and they insisted on playing a major role in writing the report. The outside expert idea was therefore abandoned, and the NGO representatives were included in the process of preparing the national report. In the end, a wide array of women’s organizations participated in a number of committees, each of which drafted various sections of the report. For example, Latifa Jbabdi and Fatima Meghnawi of the UAF were responsible for the political report. The fact that there was such broad representation on the government drafting committee was in part a function of the personality of the minister of social affairs, Rafiq Haddaoui, who was highly praised by a number of the women interviewed. 53
In the end, the women were pleased with the document, probably as much with the process of its drafting as with its content. They admitted that some of the things they had submitted had not been included (Meghnawi mentioned a section on illiteracy); nonetheless, the report was far superior to its predecessors. So much more their dismay, then, when the report was not presented by the government at the Beijing preparatory meeting in Dakkar. Concerned, the women sent letters seeking an explanation from the relevant government offices. They received little in the way of response. Much more disturbing was the fact that the report was not distributed at Beijing either. Again, attempts to solicit explanations were unsuccessful: in some cases they were met with silence, and in others with diversions or lies that the report had been submitted. Only once did one female official, in response to a question regarding the noncirculation, say that this decision had come from higher levels in the government. There may in fact be several factors involved. One interviewee reported they had been told by some UN representatives that some of the very women involved in the drafting process had sabotaged the report. 54
The failure to present a report was only one very disappointing aspect of Moroccan participation in Beijing. The official delegation was overwhelmingly composed of men, and the women participants were marginalized. The delegation was also disproportionately weighted toward ministry representatives, their clients, and women who had a desire to go to Beijing but who had never been involved in women’s activities. Nor did the official delegation make any attempt to interact with the Moroccan NGO delegation. The head of the delegation, Hadi Abu Talib, an adviser to the king, gave a speech at the conference in which he essentially stated that all was well with Moroccan women. Needless to say, the NGO women activists were united in their disappointment with the nature and behavior of the government delegation.
The NGOs had internal problems as well. In preparation for the conference, the UAF had been designated by FEMNET (the African regional organization responsible for coordinating the meeting) as the point focale or coordinator for Moroccan NGO preparations. However, the UAF’s designation as the point focale was not generally acknowledged by other women’s NGOs and, indeed, became a contentious issue. Nevertheless, the UAF hosted the first NGO meeting, inviting representatives of all women’s organizations as well as representatives of women’s sections of political parties, human rights organizations, and unions. It was then agreed that the other NGOs would take turns hosting the meetings, and the UNFM was designated as the next host. 55 However, when the UNFM sent out invitations to the meeting, it did so in its name, as if it were its initiative rather than a coordinated effort. A number of women’s groups, including the UAF, objected strongly, and some called for ending coordination. One interviewee, who has had long experience with women’s issues but who was not directly involved in this episode, related that she had asked UNFM members about the affair and they insisted that it had all been a misunderstanding. My interviewee, however, was convinced otherwise: this had been an attempt by the UNFM to in effect take over point focale responsibilities. 56
A second meeting was finally held, if in a tense atmosphere. A follow–up committee was formed and the UAF then proceeded to distribute forms for women to register for Beijing. They held several subsequent meetings at the UAF headquarters on technical issues and then were preparing for an enlarged meeting at a public place, rather than at the offices of any of the NGOs, given the sensitivities involved. Yet before this enlarged meeting could take place, the UNFM held its own meeting and was able to benefit from wide official media coverage. This was the final blow, as the other organizations sent letters informing the UNFM that they were terminating coordination. 57
The original committee subsequently tried to relaunch the initiative on the grounds that the lack of coordination was very detrimental, and there was an agreement to try again. Yet it became clear that coordination would be difficult. The UAF made another attempt at the end of October 1994 by calling for a meeting of all the groups that had participated in the coordinating committee, but the atmosphere had been poisoned by what had transpired. 58 All efforts failed, although initiatives to revive coordination continued until almost the last minute: the OFI and OMDH both held meetings in Rabat in mid–August 1995 to put together some kind of joint activity before the conference. 59 In the end, everyone attended separately. The UAF, as part of its solo preparation activities, for example, held a large number of meetings and seminars around the country to raise women’s awareness and publicize the conference. 60
Perhaps the most unusual effort associated with the preparations for Beijing was a trans–Maghribi endeavor. The idea was born as a result of discussions at an October 1991 meeting sponsored by the ADFM entitled “Stratégies de Nairobi pour la Promotion de la Femme: Bilan et Perpectives au Maghreb,” the goal of which was to assess what progress Maghribi women had made since the Nairobi conference in 1985. As a result of these discussions, a group of women’s associations as well as individuals from Morocco, Tunisia, and Algeria joined to form what was later dubbed the Collectif 95–Maghreb Egalité, whose function was to prepare a serious and credible presence for North African women at the Beijing NGO meetings. The organization was registered in Morocco, and the coordination was directed from Rabat: Morocco’s law of associations is far more flexible than those of the other two countries and the political climate offered greater possibilities than that of civil–war torn Algeria or the increasingly police–state Tunisia.
The Collectif was successful in securing substantial funding from a number of key external agencies: FES, UNFP, and UNESCO, as well as lesser amounts from USAID for travel to regional preparatory workshops. However, FES was by far the most important source of support for the four years of research and coordination that went into the preparations. The women decided to work on three reports, to be conducted cross–regionally. The first examined the three countries’ ratifications of international conventions concerning women, with a special emphasis on the reservations submitted. The second compared where North African women had been at the time of Nairobi, in terms of health, education, welfare, and labor, with their situation in the early 1990s, as well as in comparison with men’s status in the same categories. The third, and boldest, of the documents was a plan for a unified personal status code for the three countries, generally within the framework of Islamic principles, but relying on ijtihad to support changes or modifications. Thus, the three documents formed a kind of natural unit, or progression. National teams were assembled to prepare the respective country sections of the report. In addition to presenting these documents at Beijing, the Collectif secured funding from UNESCO for a Parliament of Women from Islamic Countries, intended to debate issues of special concern to these women, presumably primarily issues related to the various personal status codes. They also held a workshop on violence against women and a program of solidarity with the women of Algeria.
Evaluation
One of the clear lessons of the preparations for Beijing is that the combination of a political liberalization that permitted the emergence of a number of new and activist women’s groups and a supportive Minister of Work and Social Affairs allowed for the first effective input by Moroccan women into the drafting of a national report. One may also view the government’s decision to have such women participate, and on their own terms, as the result of a desire to implicate these women in a state–sponsored project. In such a situation it would seem that both the women and the state drew benefits from the cooperation. At the same time, however, the fact that this report was never submitted at an international conference and that the women have never been given an explanation for its suppression, implies at best bureaucratic lack of coordination or infighting and at worst a decision at a higher level that certain aspects of the report were problematic. The constitution and behavior of the official delegation at Beijing suggests the second explanation is probably closer to the truth. Whether aspects of the report were problematic for “nationalist” reasons or because they would have triggered anger or disquiet among religious elements remains a subject of speculation.
The other major theme illustrated by the Beijing preparations is the continuing negative impact of rivalries among women’s organizations (although the experience of the Collectif–95 demonstrated that not only domestic but transnational NGO cooperation is possible). In this case, however, it was not the UAF–ADFM rivalry that was the problem, but rather the unwillingness of the UNFM to cede the limelight to another organization. The UNFM used its superior resources (both financial and media) to try and force itself upon the other NGOs as the de facto point focale. Since, apparently, the other NGOs’ antipathy for the UNFM is at least equal to what they hold for each other, the outcome was complete lack of coordination among Moroccan NGOs at Beijing. To what extent the UNFM’s initiative was suggested or encouraged by official circles is not clear. However, unlike what we shall see in Jordan, where the governmental NGO has an activist and ambitious head in the person of the princess, the UNFM’s ability to constrain the activities of the other women’s NGOs in Morocco is limited by its own lack of more broadly–based initiatives. The UNFM will not disappear, but it is unlikely to attempt to swallow up all other women’s activity in the kingdom.
Conclusions
There is no question that since 1985, and especially since 1990, the possibilities for women’s organizing have increased dramatically and women have taken advantage of the liberalization and perhaps even pushed the boundaries set by the state. The fact that their initiatives have produced less than satisfactory results from their point of view is largely because the changes they sought to one degree or another struck at the very bases of the sociopolitical system. More immediately, they also threatened to trigger the unraveling of political coalitions carefully crafted by male activists to try wrest a small share of power, but without questioning the broader makhzen framework.
Hassan certainly saw some opportunities in the mobilization of women in the summer of 1992, as he hoped to coopt them to support his proposed constitutional amendments. In general, however, one may see the king as averse to women’s mobilization on both ends of the political spectrum. On the one end are leftist women pushing for greater equality as they define it. While the king must be aware that making minor concessions to them plays well with his Western supporters, he also knows that any changes that would challenge societal practices or Islamic law in Morocco would create resentment and opposition among the ulama and other conservatives. On the other end of the spectrum are the Islamists. Making concessions on that front would alienate other influential sectors of Moroccan society and raise the specter of an Algeria or an Iran in the kingdom.
There is no doubt that the regime feels the most comfortable with women’s NGO work of an economic development or charitable nature. In the first place, it helps to fill a gap that has widened in the context of economic crisis and the demands of structural adjustment, as the state has been unable or unwilling to maintain the same level of expenditures on social services. On the other hand, these activities are generally not constructed with greater empowerment of women in mind. Such projects tend to ameliorate, but basically reinforce, the status quo. Given the current balance of forces in the country as well as the concern that Algeria continues to elicit, one should not expect women’s activities nor state interaction with women to lead to more than changes on the margins. However, given that when Moroccans ponder the possibility of swift change it is usually the military or the Islamists that they see coming to power—neither of which would portend even a marginally more liberal regime for women—the prospect of incremental positive change may be the most hopeful scenario for the near term.
Endnotes
Note 1: Jeune Afrique, April 23, 1992. Back.
Note 2: Interview with Fatima Meghnawi, officer in the UAF, in Rabat, July 25, 1995. Back.
Note 3: 8 Mars, no. 58, p. 11. Back.
Note 4: The citation is taken from Patrick Haenni, “Le Théâtre d’Ombres de L’Action Féminine: Femmes, Etat, et Société Civile au Maroc,” (hereafter cited as Haenni) thesis for the D.E.A. d’études politiques (AMAC), I.E.P. de Paris, 1993, p. 69. Back.
Note 5: Meghnawi interview. Back.
Note 6: Interview with journalist and former student activist Leila Chafai, Rabat, July 4, 1995. Back.
Note 7: Zakya Daoud, Féminisme et Politique au Maghreb (hereafter cited as Daoud) (Casablanca: Editions Eddif, 1993), p. 335. Back.
Note 8: Khadija ‘Amti, “Al–Nisa’i bayna Sultat al–Taqlid w–al–Hadathah: Mudawwanat al–Ahwal al–Shakhsiyyah ka–Halah,” in Femmes et Société Civile au Maghreb (Marrakech: Publications Universitaires du Maghreb, n.d.), p. 58. Back.
Note 9: Daoud, p. 338; ‘Amti, “Al–Nisa’i,” pp. 58–68; and M. Ahnaf, “Maroc: Le Code du Statut Personnel,”(hereafter cited as Ahnaf) Maghreb–Machrek, no. 145 (Juillet–Septembre 1994), pp. 12–13. Back.
Note 10: Al–Rayah, July 20, 1992. Back.
Note 11: Al–Rayah, June 1, 1992. Back.
Note 12: Interview with ‘Abdalillah Benkirane, head of Islah w–al–Tajdid, Rabat, April 18, 1996. Back.
Note 13: Al–Bayan, April 21, 1992. Back.
Note 14: Al–Rayah, July 20, 1992. Back.
Note 15: ‘Amti,“Al–Nisa’i,” p. 57. Back.
Note 16: Al–Islah w–al–Tajdid, “Bayan Hawla al–Intikhabat al–Jama‘iyyah,” 15 October 1992. Back.
Note 18: 8 Mars, no. 58, p. 13. Back.
Note 19: Haenni, pp. 70–71. Back.
Note 20: “A Propos du Code de Statut Personnel,” in L’Organisation Marocaine des Droits de L’Homme à Travers ses Communiqués et Déclarations: Mai 1991–Décembre 1992 (n.p.: OMDH, 1993), pp. 92–93. Back.
Note 21: See chapter 1 for more on the political context. Back.
Note 22: Daoud, pp. 342–43. Back.
Note 23: Ahnaf, pp. 17–18. Back.
Note 24: Interview with author Leila Abouzeid, Rabat, June 22, 1995. Back.
Note 28: Leila Abouzeid, “Ta‘dil Mudawwanat al–Ahwal al–Shakhsiyyah,” Al–Minbar al–Libirali, April 19, 1995, p. 25. Back.
Note 29: Al–‘Alam, March 8, 1994. Back.
Note 31: Jeune Afrique, March 25, 1993. Back.
Note 34: Al–‘Alam, April 3, 1993. Back.
Note 36: Anoual, April 1, 1993. Back.
Note 37: Interview with Professor of Sociology and USFP activist Aicha Belarbi, June 29, 1995. Back.
Note 38: Al–Bayane, February 28, 1993. Back.
Note 39: Liberation, March 13, 1993. Back.
Note 40: Anoual, April 8, 1993. Back.
Note 41: Al–Rayah, March 9, 1993. Back.
Note 42: “Observations générales sur le procès ‘Tabit,’ ” in O.M.D.H. à Travers ses Communiqués et Déclarations, Decembre 1992 – Mai 1994 (Casablanca: Les Editions Maghrebines, n.d.), pp. 37–9. Back.
Note 44: Interview with ‘Abdallah Saaf, Chair of the Department of Public Law, Muhammad V University, Rabat, July 1, 1995. Back.
Note 45: Anoual, April 1, 1993. Back.
Note 46: Al–Bayane, March 11, 1993. Back.
Note 47: Anoual, April 2, 1993. Back.
Note 48: Interview with ‘Aicha Loukmas, lawyer, editor of 8 Mars, in Casablanca, July 21, 1995. Back.
Note 49: This section is taken in its entirety from my interview with Amina Lamrini, Rabat, July 18, 1995. Back.
Note 50: Although the original four–party (PI, USFP, PPS, and OADP) kutlah broke down well before the parliamentary elections, the PI and USFP did construct and electoral alliance, which people continued to refer to as the kutlah, which involved running joint candidates. Back.
Note 51: This section is taken in its entirety from my interview with MP Sqalli, Rabat, July 19, 1995. Back.
Note 52: The translation of populaire (Fr.) or sha‘bi (Ar.) into English poses a bit of a problem. The word implies a lower–middle class area, has a working–class connotation, but also implies a certain traditionalism and sense of community. Back.
Note 53: Interviews with UAF activists Meghnawi and Loukhmas. Back.
Note 54: This was off–the–record, April 1966. My interviewee reported that a member of the OFI who was appointed to a position in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs responsible for liasing with international organizations apparently lobbied against the report because of the UAF’s role in it. She referred to UAF women as atheists who were outside the framework of Islam. Back.
Note 55: It is probably instructive that the 8 Mars, no. 59, p. 5 article which details the history of this period does not mention the UNFM by name. I learned it by chance in an unrelated interview, and another activist subsequently confirmed it. Back.
Note 56: Off–the record comments by a woman activist, July 1995. Back.
Note 57: 8 Mars, no. 59, p. 5. Back.
Note 59: Meghnawi interview. Back.
Note 60: 8 Mars, 60/61, pp. 7–16. Back.
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