Tuesday, August 3, 2010

The Economist on Christians in Morocco

In rather belated coverage of the event, The Economist finally got around to writing an article about the expulsion of evangelicals from Morocco. Nothing new is reported, but because of the far reach of The Economist perhaps now more of the world's citizenry is informed.

The Economist opines on the motivation behind the expulsions:
But the motivation for the crackdowns is probably political more than religious. Morocco’s constitution is based on the hereditary position of the king as “commander of the faithful”. Any drift of Muhammad VI’s subjects away from the dominant stream of moderate Sunni Islam might, his advisers fear, diminish his authority.

The whole article is pretty short. So I'll post it in its entirety because it provides an excellent summary of the events:
Morocco's evangelical Christians
Stop preaching or get out
The king is unamused by Christians who proselytise
Jul 29th 2010 | FEZ

EVANGELICAL Christians in the poor world are rarely accused of undermining public order. All the more surprising, then, that in recent months around a hundred have been deported from Morocco for just that. The Christians, mostly from the United States and Europe, have been accused of trying to convert Muslims to Christianity, a crime punishable by imprisonment under Moroccan law, which protects the freedom to practise one’s faith but forbids any attempt to convert others.

Rules against proselytising are quite common in Muslim countries but Morocco has long enjoyed a reputation as a bastion of religious tolerance in the region. Almost all the country’s 32m citizens are Sunni Muslims but churches and synagogues exist, alongside mosques, to cater for the 1% of the people who are Christian or Jewish.

Such open-mindedness presumably appealed to the Christian missionaries who ran the “Village of Hope” home for children 80km (50 miles) south of Fez, a former capital known for religion and scholarship. The 16 aid-workers had cared for abandoned children for over a decade when, in March, the Moroccan authorities sent inspectors to the orphanage, then gave the workers a few days’ notice to leave the country. Witnesses reported distraught farewells between the Moroccan children and the foreigners who had acted as foster parents.

Morocco’s communications minister, Khaled Naciri, said the missionaries “took advantage of the poverty of some families and targeted their young children”. The aid-workers deny pumping the children with Christianity. But sympathisers say that even if they did, a few hours of preaching was a small price to pay for education and pastoral care. There have been further expulsions since then, most recently of an evangelical Spanish teacher.

Local residents are quick to point out that it is not only Christians who have been targets; last year a similar campaign was waged against Morocco’s even smaller population of Shia Muslims. But the motivation for the crackdowns is probably political more than religious. Morocco’s constitution is based on the hereditary position of the king as “commander of the faithful”. Any drift of Muhammad VI’s subjects away from the dominant stream of moderate Sunni Islam might, his advisers fear, diminish his authority.

The American branch of an evangelical organisation, Open Doors, which speaks up for persecuted Christians across the world, is backing a campaign by a Republican congressman, Frank Wolf, to press the Moroccans to be kinder to the evangelicals. Seeing that Morocco is one of America’s closest Arab allies, the American administration has been notably silent.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Darija vs. Fusha

I use the terms "Darija" and "Fusha" regularly on this blog because the linguistic distinction is so important in Morocco today. I have blogged a bit about the difference between Darija, the dialectical form of Arabic Moroccans speak, and Fusha, the standard form of Arabic, but nothing I have written compares with this description by a Dutch anthropologist living in Morocco that I just read.

It was an anecdote meant for a book that didn't make the final cut. But rather than tossing it completely, she posted the well-written piece on her blog.

After describing a miscommunication about her Arabic studies that she had with her Moroccan host sister Manal, she writes:
Then suddenly it dawned on me: she must have assumed I was learning Fusha, or Modern Standard Arabic, rather than the Moroccan dialect. “Oh, wait!” I cried out eagerly, relieved to have identified the source of confusion. “These words are not Fusha, they’re Darija,” I explained, hoping that this clarified the situation.

But she simply looked at me, silently. The knot in her eyebrows showed no signs of disappearing. Then finally she exclaimed, with a mix of surprise and disgust, “You’re learning Darija? Why? Darija is bad, it’s no good!”

A little taken aback, I asked her why. Why on earth would she react this way to the news that I was learning her native language? I had expected at least a little bit of enthusiasm.

“Because it just is. Fusha is just better, it’s the ‘true’ language,” she explained, accompanying her words with heavy arm gestures to convey to me some of the solidity and weight that Fusha seemed to carry in her mind’s eye.

“Darija isn’t spoken right,” she then elaborated, and added an example. “It shouldn’t be tlata; it should be thalatha.” And as the hard ‘t’s of her colloquial dialect made room for the lyrical ‘th’s of Standard Arabic, the scowl on her face smoothed over into an expression of deep satisfaction.

She goes on to explain the the impact of history and geography on the issue:
My host family’s reaction to the discovery that I was learning Darija reveals a love/hate relationship with their dialect. It is not considered ‘real’ or worthy of study, but nevertheless it is theirs, it is the language in which they are most comfortable, and it is intimately connected to their culture and traditions. Though Fusha is often placed on a pedestal as a kind of ‘pure’ and ‘ideal’ Arabic, it is a language that the average Moroccan only masters passively. It is taught in school, and it is heard on radio and television; most Moroccans will thus understand anything said to them in Standard Arabic. Speaking it, however, would be the equivalent of an American speaking Shakespearean English. Fusha, one might venture to argue (from a linguistic standpoint at least), is no more ‘their’ language than French would be.

Moroccan Arabic, in contrast, is entirely ‘theirs’. It may not be a real language, but speaking it signals a kind of cultural belonging, or insiderness in a way that Fusha cannot. I had noted this difference in value before, when I first came to Morocco in the spring of 2005. I was in Fès for a period of three months, and took an intensive course of beginning Darija, followed immediately by an intensive course of intermediate Fusha. Whereas topics of discussion in the colloquial class included Moroccan customs, traditions, and superstitions, the Fusha classes focused on pan-Arab politics, Middle-Eastern history, and Qur’anic theology. Feeling a growing disconnect from the Moroccan context during that last course, I remember regretting my decision to switch from dialect to standard Arabic.

The whole post is well-worth the reading.

(Hat tip: Jilian York over at Global Voices)

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Cross-Cultural Friendship

One of the great themes running through the works of the late American author Paul Bowles is that of cultural incommensurability. To put it another way: people from different cultures can never really understand each other. They always just talk past each other and misinterpret each other's actions. It certainly happens that way more often than not, but it needn't always.

I have spent the last few years of my life trying to combat this simple yet noxious notion. After seeing the lack of comprehension on either side of the US cultural divide, I decided that our political discourse and our civil society would be much better if we could just learn to talk to each other and live with each other. In my mind, this stemmed straight from the fundamental Christian teaching that all proper religion is bound up in the two commandments love God and love your neighbor. And from there it seemed a pretty straight-forward conclusion that properly communicating with someone was a necessary component of loving them.

Since I had spent time in Blue States and in Red States, with Christians convinced that God-hating secularists were out to get them and then later with secularists convinced that fundamentalist Christians were out to get them, I got a pretty good handle on the sources of conflict and how feedback loops reinforced stereotypes and miscomprehension. And I just wanted to unwind those feedback loops and grind down those mountains of discourse so that everyone could see what was really at stake. Those stripped-down philosophical and cultural differences are, to a certain extent, irreconcilable, but I knew from experience that you could learn to think from the other perspective. The conversations I had had were much more fruitful. At the very least real communication had occurred.

In academics I've seen other divides, between analytic and continental philosophy, between the humanities and the sciences. And as I've traveled the same sort of thing comes up. I've also lived in Latin America, in Europe, and now in the Arab world, and in each of those places the same sort of dynamic exists in their relationship with the United States. During the Bush years, the divide between the US and Europe was stronger, but it still exists. And the divide between the Western and Arab worlds continues to be marked. In each case and in each relationship, I was convinced that a certain amount of background knowledge, a certain exposure to people on the other side of the side, a certain process of dialogue could highlight differences and similarities, and at least get people to talk about key issues that divide.

In large part I was naive.

There are vested interests in keeping barriers between people, reducing dialogue and demonizing other religions, cultures, and nationalities. Most people don't really want to communicate. Most people won't give up cherished beliefs even if confronted with evidence to the contrary. Most people prefer the comfort of the known to the gritty, time-consuming process of getting to know someone who is different.

All the same, I believe in the ethical imperative of getting to know different sorts of people and trying to communicate clearly with them. For me its grounding in the fundamental Christian commandment of love trumps other considerations, including whatever political considerations some Christians take to be sacrosanct.

In the years since Bowles wrote about Morocco, it has changed immensely. It has modernized and Westernized to a startling degree. Well...startling for Moroccans born a century ago. Bowles himself (who, coincidentally, was born exactly a century ago) prophesied much of what would come. He wrote of how Moroccan culture would become a commodity to be sold to foreigners and how that would change Moroccans' relationship with their own traditions.

So today, when I meet a Moroccan on the streets of Meknes, he has likely been raised on a steady diet of Western media aided by the recent inventions of the satellite dish and the Internet. He likely spends hours a day on Facebook or watching YouTube videos. He wears Western clothing except for the rare special occasion when he dons a jelaba. He speaks some combination of French, English, and Spanish and has a passing familiarity with chunks of each of those cultures. In many cases, he was educated in high school and university in a way that an American might find strange, but which any French person would instantly recognize. He likely adores soccer, that sport invented in England and spread the world over, yet his favorite soccer team is not to be found in Morocco, but rather across the Straight of Gibraltar. The Spanish League, after all, provides teams like Real Madrid and FC Barcelona that have no equal in Morocco. He likely takes his girlfriend (or even girlfriends) on regular dates to a cafe, in a ritual that would seem vaguely familiar to an American observer.

In short, a Westerner and a Moroccan would have a large number of points in common. Many cultural and particularly religious issues would divide the two, but they would have any number of starting points for a friendship.

And yet developing strong friendships with Moroccans has been difficult both for me and for my roommate.

For starters a large number of Moroccans view foreigners solely in terms of how much money they can make off of them. Needless to say, this is corrosive to any sort of lasting bond with them.

With others, religion is a sticking point. Last Fall I spent a fair amount of time with a Moroccan named Anass. We invited him to our Thanksgiving feast; he invited us to Eid al Kabir. He took me to the hammam once, where he introduced me to the traditional Moroccan way of bathing. I was invited to couscous. We went to coffee a few times.

The last time I was invited to couscous, his mother asked me if I knew any of the Koran. I replied that I had memorized the Fatiha, which I believe a Christian can say in good faith. She asked me to recite it and I did. Then the father entered and said I shouldn't stop there. I should also recite the Shahada, the profession that there is one God and Mohammed is His prophet, which officially makes one a Muslim. For obvious reasons a Christian cannot recite this in good faith. I politely declined.

I was never invited to couscous again.

My invitations to coffee were declined by Anass from then on. I still see him from time to time; we play soccer with the same group. But our budding friendship was pruned too severely to ever recover.

Sometimes, the pendulum of religious and moral sensibilities swings the other way, and Moroccans' assumptions about Western libertine attitudes make friendship difficult. Two Moroccans that Daniel was getting to know once offered to bring three prostitutes over to the house. Daniel replied that he never pays for sex. They said they would pay. He wouldn't have to worry about it. He declined again, trying to explain what he meant.

That's not an isolated case. A number of Moroccans we have met like to bond over binge drinking and prostitutes. A typical offer, meant in the most friendly and hospitable way possible, goes something like this: While moving his thumb underneath his chin in the typical Moroccan motion for abundance he says, "I have a lot of girlfriends. You can have one if you like." And by 'girlfriends' he means 'whores I frequent'.

The two or three Moroccans I have had the fortune to strike up a decent friendship with are generally stricter Muslims who have studied English in the university. They are familiar with American culture and mores and have grown accustomed to communicating the nuances of their culture and beliefs in English. It's not the best for my Arabic, but a true cross-cultural communication does occur. Unfortunately, they are often busy working the long hours of their blue-collar jobs (unfortunately, an English degree from the university isn't terribly helpful in the Moroccan labor market). So the time we can spend with each other is minimal.

And of course there is no possibility of us going out for a beer or two. They don't drink.

In negotiating all these difficulties I learn a great deal. I have a greater appreciation now for what the women's liberation movement has accomplished in the United States. I like that I can hang out with girls in the U.S. and listen to their thoughts and jokes over a beer in the same way I would with a guy. Furthermore, I better understand the dynamics in Muslim countries. Seeing this sort of behavior somehow makes Salafist thinking a little more understandable.

It's perhaps even more rewarding because it is so difficult. The most important thing in my mind, though, is that these conversations and friendships can and do happen. They aren't easy, but they are possible.

One Year In Morocco

It's hard to believe that I arrived in Morocco for the first time over a year ago.

My Darija has improved remarkably; something I can't quite say about my Fusha. I have become comfortable with most Moroccan traditions and ways of life. I particularly enjoy the cafe culture and a few excellent dishes, particularly the tajines. The extended greetings can be wearisome at times, but have become comfortingly familiar.

During this short time I've learned a lot about Moroccan society, which is itself in the midst of an amazing transition. I've been disappointed by how certain events have played out, particularly the expulsions of Christians (which I have covered on this blog), but I have also been thoroughly impressed by Moroccans' language skills, hospitality, and speed of life.

It's frustrating to see this culture's blind spots and prejudices, but in comparison with the US, Morocco doesn't do too bad. We just have different blind spots and prejudices.


I am currently on vacation. So for the next month or so, I won't have any exciting anecdotes about life in Morocco to share with you.

However, I figured that this pause might be a good time to reflect back on my year in Morocco and write about some general topics or larger trends that don't come up on a daily or weekly basis. Although I may post a little less frequently, I encourage you to check back regularly for those more reflective posts. And then at the end of August I'll be reprising my typical blogging.

In the meantime, I hope you all have an excellent summer. Thanks for reading!

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Scenes From Morocco: Watching the Tide Roll Away
















Moroccans watch the ocean in Essaouira from the vantage point of the old fortress.