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globalized authoritarianism
Globalization and Community

Susan E. Clarke, Series Editor


Dennis R. Judd, Founding Editor

Volume 27
Globalized Authoritarianism: Megaprojects, Slums, and
Class Relations in Urban Morocco
Koenraad Bogaert

Volume 26
Urban Policy in the Time of Obama
James DeFilippis, Editor

Volume 25
The Servant Class City: Urban Revitalization versus the
Working Poor in San Diego
David J. Karjanen

Volume 24
Security in the Bubble: Navigating Crime in Urban South Africa
Christine Hentschel

Volume 23
The Durable Slum: Dharavi and the Right
to Stay Put in Globalizing Mumbai
Liza Weinstein

Volume 22
The Fragmented Politics of Urban Preservation:
Beijing, Chicago, and Paris
Yue Zhang

Volume 21
Turkish Berlin: Integration Policy and Urban Space  
Annika Marlen Hinze

(continued on page 325)


GLOBALIZED
AUTHORITARIANISM
Megaprojects, Slums, and
Class Relations in Urban Morocco

Koenraad Bogaert

Globalization and Community, Volume 27

university of minnesota press


minneapolis • london
Portions of chapters 4, 5, and 6 were published in earlier forms as “The
Problem of Slums: Shifting Methods of Neoliberal Urban Government in
Morocco,” Development and Change 42, no. 3 (2011): 709–­31; “Cities without
Slums in Morocco? New Modalities of Urban Government and the Bidonville
as a Neoliberal Assemblage,” in Locating the Right to the City in the Global South,
edited by Tony Roshan Samara, Shenjing He, and Guo Chen (New York:
Routledge, 2013), 41–­59; and “New State Space Formation in Morocco: The
Example of the Bouregreg Valley,” Urban Studies 49, no. 2 (2012): 255–­70.

Copyright 2018 by the Regents of the University of Minnesota

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in


a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written
permission of the publisher.

Published by the University of Minnesota Press


111 Third Avenue South, Suite 290
Minneapolis, MN 55401-­2520
http://www.upress.umn.edu

Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper

The University of Minnesota is an equal-­opportunity educator and employer.

Names: Bogaert, Koenraad, author.


Title: Globalized authoritarianism : megaprojects, slums, and class relations in urban
Morocco / Koenraad Bogaert.
Description: Minneapolis : University of Minnesota Press, 2018. |
Series: Globalization and community ; 27 |
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017042821 | ISBN 978-1-5179-0081-6 (pb) | ISBN 978-1-5179-0080-9 (hc)
Subjects: LCSH: Morocco–Economic conditions–21st century. |
Public works–Morocco. | Slums–Morocco. | Social classes–Morocco. |
Authoritarianism–Morocco. | BISAC: SOCIAL SCIENCE / Sociology / Urban. |
POLITICAL SCIENCE / Globalization.
Classification: LCC HC810 .B64 2018 | DDC 338.964–dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017042821
UMP BmB 2018
TO ARIANA, SIMON, AND BRUNO
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contents


abbreviations ix

preface and acknowledgments xiii

introduction
Morocco’s Urban Revolution 1

Part I. Neoliberalism as Projects


1. Considering the Global Situation 29
2. An Urban History of Neoliberal Projects in Morocco 53

Part II. (State-­)Crafting Globalization


3. Neoliberalism as Class Projects 95
4. Imagineering a New Bouregreg Valley 123

Part III. Transforming Urban Life


5. Changing Methods of Authoritarian Power 165
6. Power and Control through Techniques of Security 205
conclusion
A New Geography of Power 245


notes 259

bibliography 277

index 305
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abbreviations

AAVB Agence pour l’Aménagement de la Vallée du


Bouregreg (Agency for the Development of the
Bouregreg Valley, or the Bouregreg Agency)
ADS Agence de Développement Social (Social
Development Agency)
AFD Agence Française de Développement (French
Development Agency)
ANHI Agence Nationale pour l’Habitat Insalubre (National
Agency for Degraded Housing)
accompagnement social (social accompaniment)
AS 
AUC Agence Urbaine de Casablanca (Urban Agency of
Casablanca)
CAS 
cellule d’accompagnement sociale (social accompaniment
team)
CDG Caisse de Dépôt et de Gestion (Deposit and
Management Fund)
CDT Confédération Démocratique du Travaille
(Democratic Workers’ Confederation)
CERF Centre d’Etude, de Recherche et de Formation
(Research, Formation and Study Center)
CGEM Confédération Générale des Entreprises du Maroc
(General Confederation of Moroccan Enterprises)
DGCL Direction Générale des Communautés Locales
(General Direction of the Local Communities)

ix
x | Abbreviations

EU European Union
FDI foreign direct investment
FMDT Fonds Marocain de Développement Touristique
(Moroccan Fund for Tourism Development)
FOGARIM Fonds de garantie des prêts au logement en faveur des
populations á revenus modestes et/ou non réguliers
(Housing loan guarantee fund for moderate or non-­
regular income populations)
FSH Fonds Solidarité de l’Habitat (Solidarity Fund for
Housing)
GCC Gulf Cooperation Council
GDP gross domestic product
HC habitats clandestins (clandestine housing)
IMF International Monetary Fund
INDH Initiative Nationale pour le Développement Humain
(National Initiative for Human Development)
ISI import-­substituting industrialization
MATEUH Ministère de l’Aménagement du Territoire, de
l’Environnement, de l’Urbanisme et de l’Habitat
(Ministry for National Planning, Environment,
Urbanism and Housing)
MDG Millennium Development Goals
MENA Middle East and North Africa
MET Ministère de l’Equipement et des Transports (Ministry
of Infrastructure and Transport)
MHUAE Ministère Délégué Chargé de l’Habitat, de
l’Urbanisme et de l’Aménagement de l’Espace
(Ministry of Housing, Urbanism and Spatial Planning)
MOS 
maîtrise d’ouvrage social (social management)
MUHTE Ministère de l’Urbanisme, de l’Habitat, du Tourisme
et de l’Environnement (Ministry of Urbanism,
Housing, Tourism and Environment)
NGO nongovernmental organization
OBG Oxford Business Group
Abbreviations | xi

OCP Office Chérifien des Phosphates (Sharifian Office of


Phosphates)
ONA Omnium Nord Africain
PAG Parti d’Aménagement Global (Global Development
Plan)
PAS Plan d’Aménagement Spécial (Special Development
Plan)
PJD Parti de la justice et du développement ( Justice and
Development Party)
PPP public–­private partnership
PPS Parti du Progrès et du Socialisme (Party of Progress
and Socialism)
SAP structural adjustment program
SDAU 
schéma directeur d’aménagement urbain (urban master
plan)
SNI Société Nationale d’Investissement (National
Investment Company)
SPV special purpose vehicle
STRS Société du Tramway de Rabat-­Salé (Rabat-­Salé
Tramway Company)
TMSA Tanger Med Special Authority
UNFP Union Nationale des Forces Populaires (National
Union of Popular Forces)
USAID United States Agency for International Development
USFP Union Socialiste des Forces Populaires (Socialist
Union of Popular Forces)
VAT value-­added tax
VSB Villes Sans Bidonvilles (Cities Without Slums)
WTO-­TRIPS World Trade Organization Agreement on Trade-­
Related Aspects of Intellectual Property Rights
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preface and
acknowledgments

Back in 2007, when I first arrived in Rabat, the plan was to study pro-
cesses of democratization in both Egypt and Morocco. What’s more,
the case of Morocco was actually more of a second option, a compara-
tive by-­product of the real case I wanted to explore: Egypt.
However, parliamentary elections took place in Morocco in the first
year of this research and my colleague Sami Zemni convinced me to go.
I could postpone Egypt for a later date. “Rabat will be a soft landing
compared to Cairo,” he told me. The rest is history. In the concurrence
of circumstances that followed, I actually never made it to Egypt.
During my first weeks in the field, it struck me that very few people
went to vote, especially in the cities. Even those young campaigners I
met during the days before the elections informed me later that they
didn’t vote: “It wouldn’t change anything anyway.” They were just cam-
paigning for the money.
A lot was changing at that time, but it did not seem to have any-
thing to do with the formal democratic process. The deepwater port of
Tanger Med became operational that year. It was the flagship project of
a young monarch willing to open his country to the rest of the world.
The port complex had to become a crucial nodal point in global mari-
time business and the most important hub of containerized trade in
Africa. Other new urban megaprojects in tourism, real estate, and busi-
ness around the country were announced constantly in the local press.
Besides these sorts of spectacles, people seemed captivated by another
promising feature of modern Moroccan policy: nationwide poverty alle-
viation programs such as Villes Sans Bidonvilles (VSB, Cities Without
Slums) and the Initiative Nationale pour le Développement Humain
(INDH, National Initiative for Human Development). Others were

xiii
xiv | Preface and Acknowledgments

much less enthusiastic about these reform plans and contested, for ex-
ample, the privatization of water and electricity with sit-­ins, marches,
and other actions.
My attention was increasingly drawn to these very visible and—­at
first sight—­seemingly unrelated events and changes at the urban scale.
It was through a sense of discomfort and unease, triggered by the con-
tradictions of what I observed in the field during those first weeks and
months, that I discovered one of my main case studies. I remember pass-
ing a billboard of the Bouregreg project together with Sami after being
in Rabat only a few days. Although the valley of the Bouregreg River,
located between the cities of Rabat and Salé, was still an empty place
at that time, the billboard forecasted the most radical change the city of
Rabat would see since the days of the French protectorate. We imme­
diately decided that we had to talk to one of the people working for the
Bouregreg state agency. Not much later, we walked into one of the build-
ings of the agency, hoping for the best, asking the guard if we could talk
to somebody, anybody.
The resulting interview convinced me to dig deeper into the case
of the Bouregreg Valley and its megaproject. It also fed a creeping exis-
tential crisis I experienced as a political scientist. Here I was, trying
to understand political change, and instead of looking at elections, the
dynamics between political parties, the recommendations of interna-
tional donors, the increasing popularity of the Islamist Parti de la justice
et du développement (PJD, Justice and Development Party), and the
efforts of the makhzan (the inner circle of power in Morocco) to con-
trol the political realm, I wanted to focus on the changes at the urban
scale, the megaprojects, the slum upgrading program, the protests
against the degrading public services, and the rising cost of living in the
city. I was not finding suitable answers in the political science literature
on Morocco. At the same time, however, I was not trained to be a geog-
rapher, an economist, or an anthropologist.
The advantage of writing a preface at the end of a book project is
that by then it all seems relatively logical, structured, and coherent. The
stress about “what the hell am I doing?” seems long gone. The recollec-
tions of the concrete details, doubts, and frustrations of my everyday life
in the field now seem futile. However, when I think back on those first
years, I do recognize how much my fieldwork has been a real struggle
at certain moments, and often a chaotic one too. My brother is a film
director, and he always tells me that before you can even think about
Preface and Acknowledgments | xv

starting to shoot a film, every new project needs a well-­developed shoot-


ing script in which every step is carefully worked out and calculated.
I did not have such a shooting script. And if I did have something of
a plan, it was quickly messed up by the observations and attractions I
experienced in the field. Hence, I improvised a lot.
The rather eclectic search for new entry points—­since neither the
elections nor the “Arab regime” were one of them—­pushed me, espe-
cially in the beginning, in all kinds of directions, of which eventually
only a few made it into this book. The more directions I took, the more
complicated the general picture became. It was often frustrating at the
time. Now I know I did the right thing. Today, I am still not sure whether
my existential crisis is completely solved. Yet in the end—­luckily maybe—­
I did not try to become someone else. I am still a political scientist, and
my main focus was to understand politics and political change. Nev­
ertheless, my analyses in this book identify more with the process of
understanding itself than with the laws and boundaries of the imperative
questions posed by a specific discipline. In other words, I did not want
my research questions and problems to be “disciplined.”
Most of my story draws on fieldwork in Rabat and Casablanca. Yet
the political story of this book cannot be confined to these two localities,
or to the Moroccan national context, for that matter. It involves global
investment strategies, international donor concerns, “starchitectural”
designs, and seemingly universal rationalities and practices. I was inter-
ested in the global connections that made these places into what they
are today and I wanted to understand how these complex processes of
placemaking inform our notion of politics in the region. In other words,
I wanted to explain how local politics in the region have become, in
many ways, a global enterprise.
This is not a book about the physical transformation of the Moroc-
can city. The changes I observed were, in the first place, social. A new
skyscraper, apartment, road, or marina are the visible materializations of
social connections and particular power relations that determine, to a
large extent, the lives of all urban and even nonurban citizens. Under-
standing the impact of these relations and connections within the context
of our global situation was my main concern. In fact, I am convinced
that it should concern all engaged scholars dealing with politics in the
region.
I need to thank a lot of people who have made the (often lonely)
process of both my research and later the writing of this book much
xvi | Preface and Acknowledgments

easier. First, I thank my editors at the University of Min­nesota Press. I


am particularly grateful to Susan Clarke, who did an amazing job, chal-
lenging and pushing me to a higher level; and to Pieter Martin, for his
professional guidance and encouragements during the writing process.
It was a comfort to feel their confidence.
I would also like to thank my colleagues Sami Zemni and Chris
Parker for their support, advice, and friendship at the Middle East and
North Africa Research Group (MENARG). Team MENARG is an in-
spiring and wonderful research environment and I thank all my col-
leagues from over the years for their friendship and collegiality.
Further, I would like to express my gratitude to the many people
who helped me along the way. I thank Fadma Ait Mouss, Nida Alah-
mad, Ray Bush, Myriam Catusse, Ipsita Chatterjee, Loes Debuysere,
Brecht De Smet, Marion Dixon, Ruddy Doom, Soraya El Kahlaoui,
Adam Hanieh, Omar Jabary Salamanca, Sylvie Janssens, Ahmed Kanna,
Marieke Krijnen, Khalid Madhi, Paola Rivetti, Steven Schoofs, Cristi-
ana Strava, Robin Thiers, Dorien Vanden Boer, and Sigrid Vertommen
for their insightful comments on earlier versions of this project.
My fieldwork has been a fascinating experience, and I also have
to thank many people whom I met during my time in Morocco. There
were too many to name them all, but I would especially like to thank my
roommate in Rabat, Montserrat Emperador Badimon, my philosopher
friend Alejandro Muchada, Chafik el Younoussi, Mounaime Oubai, Ab-
del­latif Zeroual, Aziz el Yaakoubi, Olivier Toutain, Béatrice Allain-­El
Mansouri, Ellen Van Bovenkamp, Anja Hoffman, Mimoun Rahmani,
Hicham Mouloudi, Charaf Britel, Cynthia Plette, Souad Guennoun,
Jacopo Granci, and Ward Vloeberghs.
I also express my gratitude to Béatrice Platet for the map of the
Bouregreg project and Soumia El Majdoub for the photographs. Finally,
I thank friends and family for being there for me, especially my beautiful
wife, Ariana. She is my biggest support and my most critical sounding
board. I admire her intelligence and empathy.
Introduction

morocco ’s urban
revolution

On September 15, 2013, in the morning, while entering the station of


Casa-­Port, I saw the new high-­rises of Casablanca Marina out my win-
dow. Although still under construction, they already transformed Casa-
blanca’s skyline radically. Casablanca Marina is situated just in front of
the old medina between the harbor and the impressive Mosque Hassan II.
The medina, the old city that predates the French protectorate, with its
robust stone walls, narrow streets, and numerous small shops, will be
hidden from now on behind a new city panorama of concrete and glass.
A new beachfront reaches out to the Atlantic Ocean and to the rest
of the world. It will consist of yachting marinas, luxury hotels, shops
and residences, offices, a conference center, and even a grand aquarium.
Launched in 2006 by King Mohammed VI, Casablanca Marina holds
out a vision of a “modern” city, a “globalized” city, one where businesses
can thrive and tourists can enjoy the sights. A place of living, leisure, and
business: those are the three keywords by which the marina marketeers
describe Casablanca’s message to the world.
The project’s skyscrapers symbolize the new Morocco, a country
led, since 1999, by a benevolent monarch. Young, modern, and popular,
Mohammed VI contrasted sharply with the authoritarian and repressive
image of his father, Hassan II. He seemed the right man at the right time,
ready to steer his country into the twenty-­first century. With Moham-
med VI at the helm, Morocco promotes itself as a haven of political
stability in the midst of a turbulent region (Nsehe 2013).
But alongside the same train tracks, just before entering Casa-­Port,
I passed another prominent feature of modern cities in the Global South:
the slums or bidonvilles (oilcan cities), as they are called in Morocco.
Small shacks, usually with a satellite dish and sheets of corrugated iron

1
2 | Introduction

as a roof, are built only a few meters away from the track. The roofs
have stones on top so they will not be blown off by the wind.
Carefully hidden behind walls, so the traveler cannot be too dis-
turbed by their sight, these pockets of poverty are not just an urban or
a social problem. They are also subject to a particular political concern.
In this age of globalization, financialization, and global communication,
the aesthetic qualities of urban centers are essential to contemporary
economic growth strategies. Land and property interests have become
a vital mechanism in the commodification of urban space and property
capital has become a central motor of urban “regeneration” (Massey
2010, 91).
Consequently, the image of a city like Casablanca becomes a cru-
cial asset and city marketing is the tool to optimize and develop that
asset. Slums, obviously, do not fit the particular picture of modernity
advertised by Casablanca Marina. They are a burden, both physically, as
they often occupy valuable land, and symbolically, as they disturb a city’s
sight and attractiveness to the outside world (to investors).
That day in Casablanca I met with Souad, an architect and long-­
time political activist.1 Over the past few years, she has been active in
the 20 February movement, the social protest movement that emerged
in the wake of the 2011 Arab uprisings. As we were walking through
the old medina toward the construction site of the marina project, she
explained that the rocky shore in front of the medina used to be a place
of social encounter. It was a place where people went fishing and after-
ward they would drink tea in one of the cafés of the medina. Nowadays,
these encounters belong to the past with the enclosure of the seashore.
The construction site was now closed off with an iron fence covered
with billboards promising a different future.
Souad turned my attention to the urban life, the public space,
however modest it might have been, that had to make room for Casa-
blanca Marina. She wanted to tell me another story, one that contrasted
with that of the urban developers and designers of such megaprojects
who usually ignore these kinds of encounters, or at best consider them
unproductive.
In the developer’s view, the marina occupied a degraded or even
desolate space, where there was little or no development before, little
or no life. After the independence, the story then usually goes, Moroc-
can cities had turned their back to the Atlantic Ocean, and now the time
had come to remedy this historic mistake. Urban spectacles such as
Introduction | 3

Casablanca Marina will put Morocco’s cities back on the world map: a
metaphor that has to be taken quite literally. The promotional video of
Casablanca Marina starts with a picture of the globe where, one after the
other, Dubai, London, New York, and Casablanca appear as flashes of
light, accompanied by the melodramatic tunes of the soundtrack of the
movie The Rock.2 Thanks to the new megaproject, Casablanca is going
to be among the great cities of the globe.
Casablanca Marina also promises a better world for local residents.
If the project manages to “bring in” globalization, it will generate growth,
create employment, and bring about development. The benefits of these
projects are imagined to trickle down and flow outward to the rest of the
city and even the wider country.
Of course, the urban developer’s story represents a particular kind
of development, a particular kind of urbanism. Casablanca Marina re-
flects a hegemonic and deeply political project, one that resembles many
other urban megaprojects around the globe. Yet it is rarely presented as
such. On the contrary, the developer’s story transforms the political
reproduction of urban space into a mere technocratic problem of eco-
nomic growth and urban modernization. This is precisely why Souad
took me to this place. She wanted to draw my attention to an impor-
tant political issue and she regretted that her fellow activists missed the
importance of this issue. “While the 20 February movement was debat-
ing abstract things like democracy, capital took over the city,” she said
with a sigh while we were looking over the construction site.

The Neoliberal Turn and Its Relation to


Crisis, the City, and Struggle
What happens when capital takes over a city? More concretely, what
might it mean for the ways we understand political change, power, and
agency in a country such as Morocco, or the region more broadly? And
if we relate very specific urban developments to politics more generally,
how might such a maneuver challenge the dominant paradigms that in-
form our understanding of politics in the region today?
This book explores political change through the lens of the city. My
approach links more abstract questions of government, globalization,
and neoliberalism with concrete changes in the city and urban projects
such as Casablanca Marina. It is about the exchanges and connections
that are made through the reproduction of urban space and what they
4 | Introduction

reveal about the power that materializes in the creation of new spatial
realities.
The transformation of the Moroccan city tells a broader story about
the transformation of politics, the state, and the economy and how it all
connects within a context of increasing globalization and neoliberal
reform. Like Souad, I consider political change to be intimately related
to place and placemaking. I explore how urban projects such as Casa-
blanca Marina reveal political practices and agency that materialize the
interrelation between globalization and countries such as Morocco, or
between global capitalism and local places such as Casablanca.
The project of Casablanca Marina is not an isolated case. The
whole coastline has been or is in the process of being reshaped by other
projects, such as Morocco Mall, Anfaplace Living Resort, and Wessal
Casablanca Port. Likewise, these restructurings are not limited to the
coastline itself. Another flagship project, the Casablanca Finance City,
aims to create a whole new city center in the district of Anfa, transform-
ing this area into a new financial hub for the wider French-­speaking
African region.
And Casablanca is not an exception in Morocco. In 2009 the weekly
magazine TelQuel referred to an “urban revolution” that fully erupted in
the middle of the first decade of the twenty-­first century following the
launch of megaprojects such as the Bouregreg project, Tanger Med, and
Tanger City Center. These projects are reshaping other major coastal
cities like Rabat and Tangier (Ghannam and Aït Akdim 2009).
This book understands the political dimension of this urban revolu-
tion in two ways: as a class project and as a governmental problem. First,
urban projects such as Casablanca Marina turn the city itself into a place
of extraction and roll out the necessary infrastructure to extract surplus
value and profit. Second, this reshaping of the city according to class
interests impacts the conditions of people already living in the city. The
tensions between the interests of ordinary citizens and the class inter-
ests of those in power have to be solved, stabilized, and governed. As
such, Morocco’s urban revolution should also be analyzed within the
history of what Michel Foucault called “biopolitics”: the technologies
and mechanisms through which the (urban) population became the
object of a political strategy of power (Collier 2011; Foucault 2007,
2008). The city, in other words, was central not only in terms of the
increasing commodification of urban land as a means to extract profits
Introduction | 5

and generate growth but also as a laboratory for the development of new
modalities of government, social control, and political domination.
The origins of this so-­called urban revolution can be traced back to
the early 1980s. At the time, numerous countries in the Global South
faced severe deficit crises and were forced to adopt structural adjustment
programs. These programs, together with subsequent neoliberal reforms,
marked a political and economic turning point. The implementation of
a structural adjustment program (SAP) in Morocco in 1983 can be con-
sidered a watershed from which the current transformations are to be
explained.
Previously, urban politics were not very central and dominant in
postindependence Morocco.3 Up until the end of the 1970s there was no
coherent political vision on urbanization and city planning at the national
level (Kaioua 1996, 615; see also Abouhani 1995a; Cattedra 2001; Naciri
1989; Rachik 2002). The structural conditions at the beginning of the
1980s, however, marked the end of this neglect, and the city became
the main object and instrument for the reinvention of Morocco’s politi-
cal economy. This turn can be inscribed into a more global shift that has
been transforming societies around the world since the 1980s. World-
wide, the city played a crucial role in the construction of neoliberal glo-
balization and hegemony (Hackworth 2007; Harvey 1989b; Lefebvre
2003; Massey 2010; Sassen 1991).
Social struggle was at the heart of this global turn. One cannot fully
understand the relation between neoliberalism and urbanism without
taking into account their relation to resistance and violence. Although
the rise of a neoliberal age is generally ascribed to the politics of iconic
figures such as Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan, Doreen Massey
(2010) stresses that in the early 1980s this future was still open, full of
conflict, and uncertain. Neoliberalism did not only emerge as a response
to a structural crisis of Fordism; it was also substantially shaped by con-
testation itself (Peck and Tickell 2007). In other words, the construc-
tion of a neoliberal order did not happen without a fight. Both Thatcher
and Reagan faced serious opposition, not in the least from the labor
movement.
More important, while these two neoliberal icons eventually suc-
ceeded in rolling back the old social order of Fordism-­Keynesianism
in their respective countries, the establishment and, even more so, the
consolidation of a new order was actually the work of the political forces
6 | Introduction

that followed these imagined pioneers. The so-­called Third Way rep­
resented by politicians such as Tony Blair and Bill Clinton entailed not
only a correction to first generation neoliberal policies but also a re-
sponse to the threat of more radical politics coming from within the
working classes, the labor unions, and the social movements. In the case
of England and the city of London, New Labour played a crucial role in
strengthening and consolidating a neoliberal social order by resolving—­
temporarily, as it has become very clear by now—­the conflicting interests
that arose out of early neoliberal reform (Massey 2010). Consequently,
the 1980s were still part of a critical period in the UK and the United
States, because if the struggle had ended otherwise, the contemporary
social order and global city might have been reinvented on other terms
(Massey 2010, 80).
A similar argument can be made with regard to the Global South.4
The Third World debt crisis of the 1980s opened up space for politics
of “structural adjustment,” imposed by international donor institutions
such as the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (IMF)
and underpinned ideologically by the Washington Consensus. These
politics succeeded in undermining, to a large extent, the then prevalent
social order of state developmentalism that had emerged out of Third
World anticolonial and nationalist struggles.5
Also in the Global South, structural adjustment did not take place
without a fight. Social struggle was at the heart of these restructurings,
and the political future in those days was equally very open, uncertain,
and undecided. From the late 1970s onward, we saw the emergence of
“new waves” of protest in many African countries and in the rest of the
Global South, due to the fundamental restructuring of class and state–­
society relations by neoliberal reform (Seddon and Zeilig 2005; see also
Branch and Mampilly 2015). Since the very beginning of the Third
World debt crisis, political–­economic programs of “free-­market reform”
coincided with socioeconomic protests. Urban mass protests and riots
were among the first expressions of popular discontent with the new
neoliberal policies (Bayat 2002).
In Free Markets and Food Riots, John Walton and David Seddon
argue that despite the particular contexts in which urban mass protests
took place, these waves must be seen as “a more general social and polit-
ical response to the systematic undermining of previous economic and
social structures and of an earlier moral order” (1994, 3).
Introduction | 7

I start from this transformative moment and explore how a neo­


liberal order was constructed and consolidated in Morocco. The “IMF
riots” of 1981 in Casablanca marked the beginning of a turbulent period
of political and economic change. It gave rise to new forms of govern-
ment, new forms of control and domination, and new forms of popular
revolt (on this last point, see Bogaert 2015c). The critical task, there-
fore, is to understand not only the context in which neoliberal reform
became possible but also the continuous process of change generated
by new contradictions and conflicts that arise out of that reform, forcing
neoliberal projects to be reinvented constantly.
In the same vein as Massey’s analysis of the UK, neoliberal projects
in Morocco were not only a response to a suffocating debt crisis; they
were also shaped by social struggle and responded directly to “threats”
coming from within the subaltern classes and poor urban neighbor-
hoods. In other words, neoliberalism in Morocco was profoundly shaped
by the ways in which interests of capital converged with security con-
cerns and the problem of the “riotous city.” Within this convergence,
the city was brought to the forefront of the construction of a new social
order both as a privileged space for capital accumulation as well as a
space for the construction of new modalities of authoritarian govern-
ment and control.
Two additional points highlight the need to integrate this latter
aspect into our understanding of the impact of neoliberal projects in a
country such as Morocco. First, state developmentalism displayed an
urban bias (Walton 1998). State investments in education and the public
sector went disproportionally to major cities and, as a result, many of
these cities, in Morocco as elsewhere in the region, attracted a lot of
migrants from the countryside. The rollback of the developmental state
did not stop this disproportionate demographic growth of cities, and
further “urbanization without economic growth” increased pressure on
political stability (M. Davis 2006b, 11–­19).
Second, the protests against early neoliberal restructuring were
largely concentrated in Morocco’s major cities. Therefore, the control
over the Moroccan city, and especially Casablanca, came to be seen as a
political “urgency” where spaces of “high risk”—­that is, the slum areas
and the working-­class neighborhoods—­needed to be stabilized and super­
vised (Rachik 1995, 2002). Otherwise, there would be no viable eco-
nomic project for the Moroccan city.
8 | Introduction

After 1981, the marginalized urban areas—­the slums, the infor-


mal housing quarters, and the working-­class areas—­became a primary
focus within a master plan for the restructuring and securitization of
Casablanca. Urban planning and administrative division were the two
core components of this project of urban control. Following the dis­
turbances of 1984 and 1990, other major cities were also subjected to
similar projects.

A Moroccan Exception?
With the accession to the throne of Mohammed VI in 1999, urban poli­
tics in Morocco took a new turn. Generally, the Moroccan political sys-
tem is considered a more moderate system compared to some of the
other authoritarian regimes in the region. From the very beginning,
Mohammed VI seemed to break with his father’s openly repressive way
of rule and willingly presented himself as a model reformer dedicated
to economic and political liberalization. In his speeches, he repeatedly
stressed the importance of good governance, human rights, poverty alle-
viation, economic development, and citizen participation. This sudden
change in style, contrasted with the more repressive image of his father,
Hassan II, even earned Mohammed VI the reputation of “king of the
poor” in the mainstream press.6
The optimism of a “Moroccan exception” took a setback after the
suicide bombings in Casablanca in May 2003. First, the authorities
immediately responded with repressive measures in order to deal with
the political crisis. Second, since all the suicide bombers came from Sidi
Moumen, a famous slum area in the eastern periphery of Casablanca,
it strengthened the idea that the country’s neglect of its urban poor and
the problem of slums were a breeding ground for jihadism and domestic
terrorism.
The monarchy responded immediately and decisively to this politi-
cal crisis, pushing Morocco’s urban politics into a new direction after the
events of 2003. The new king’s reign marked itself not only by spectacu-
lar economic growth strategies involving land and property capital (e.g.,
the Casablanca Marina project) but also by new and very ambitious
state-­promoted social development initiatives and poverty alleviation
programs. The urban restructurings of the 1980s, mainly concerned
with getting the riotous cities back under control, were complemented
with more “inclusive” modalities of government in order to cope with
Introduction | 9

the urban and social crisis exacerbated by structural adjustment. This


appeared to be vital in the preservation and reconstitution of this image
of a Moroccan exception.
Many believed that social initiatives such as the Cities Without Slums
(VSB) program and the National Initiative for Human Development
(INDH), launched in the immediate aftermath of the bombings, testified
that there was still evidence of a genuine process of political liberaliza-
tion. Those programs were underpinned by the ideals of good gover-
nance, participatory development, and social innovation. Furthermore,
these initiatives created the expectation that the young king was serious
about tackling the growing social inequality in the country (Navez-­
Bouchanine 2009; for a more generalized argument, see El Hachimi
2015; Malka and Alterman 2006; Storm 2007).
Moreover, the launch of several urban megaprojects in Casablanca,
Rabat, Tangier, and elsewhere reconfirmed, in the eyes of many within
the national and international press, Morocco’s commitment to market-­
oriented growth, the promotion of tourism, and state-­of-­the-­art urban-
ism. The country wanted to show the world that it would not be driven
off course under threat of international terrorism. These megaprojects
presented the visual spectacles of an open, globalized, and market-­friendly
Morocco. Both slum upgrading projects and real estate megaprojects
seemed to fit within a comprehensive and inclusive strategy of economic
growth and urban development.
The central arguments of this book contradict this popular mythi­
fication of the Moroccan exception. I argue that the reforms and proj-
ects implemented in Morocco over the past few decades should not be
understood as some kind of gradual democratization or liberalization
but rather as examples of how authoritarian government converges with
increasing globalization and transforms through its interaction with a
rationale of economic liberalization.
There is a political symbiosis between both urban megaprojects and
social initiatives such as VSB and INDH. While the first are directly
concerned with the opening up of local places to global market penetra-
tion and foreign investment, the second invest directly in the transfor-
mation of urban life itself. Social initiatives such as VSB and INDH seek
to adapt urban life, especially the lives of the urban poor who have a
historical record of social protest and urban violence, to the new condi-
tions brought forth by neoliberal globalization. They implicate not so
much a return to developmentalist policies but rather the development
10 | Introduction

of new kinds of social welfare mechanisms with new techniques of


market expansion and commercialization and new forms of control and
domination. These latter examples show that neoliberal projects are not
necessarily “anti-­social” but fundamentally reconfigure the social ques-
tion and the question of government. In other words, neoliberal proj-
ects actively deal with the issue of poverty and social inequality, but
from a radically different rationale and within the context of a changed
balance of (class) power.

The Urban as an Entry Point


The city helps to unsettle and question some of the dominant narratives
on politics in the Arab region. It is an entry point through which we can
develop new ways of understanding power, agency, and struggle.
One cannot fully understand the dynamics of contemporary glob­ali­
zation without putting it into the context of its urban condition and vice
versa. Moreover, given that most urban expansion happens outside the
Western world, the global urban condition is shaped in many ways by the
urban spaces in the Global South (Chatterjee 2014). Cities are sites par
excellence to study political change because they do not just provide the
necessary infrastructure to reorganize and restructure global capitalism;
they also function as laboratories for new modalities of government.
One may argue that, historically, the capitalist city has always played
this double role. However, the contemporary interrelation between
urbanization and globalization has changed in fundamental ways. The
French philosopher Henri Lefebvre realized this already in the early
1970s. In The Urban Revolution, he analyzed the political and social
dynamics of ever-­increasing urbanization. According to Lefebvre, the
urbanization of society was a historical process that reflected a transfor-
mation from an agrarian to an industrial to, finally, an “urban society” in
which all other spaces (natural space, rural space, etc.) would be pene-
trated and dominated by urban forms. He linked this evolution to a
historical shift in the territorial form of the city, that is, the transforma-
tion of the original polis (the political city) to a merchant city, then to
an industrial city, and finally to the contemporary neoliberal city—­what
Lefebvre, at the time of writing, termed a “critical phase” (2003, 16).
In this evolution toward an urban society, Lefebvre envisioned not
so much the emergence of global cities such as New York, London, or
Shanghai but more the actual globalization of the urban fabric, which is
Introduction | 11

a much broader conceptualization of urban space. “This expression,” he


states, “does not narrowly define the built world of cities but all mani-
festations of the dominance of the city over the country. In this sense, a
vacation home, a supermarket in the countryside are all part of the
urban fabric” (2003, 3–­4).
As such, he was convinced that we needed new methodological
and theoretical tools to grasp the urban phenomenon. To Lefebvre,
our urban society was not only a product of capitalist relations but at the
same time also a producer of new conditions and relations within capi-
talist organization. He knew that the modern city was “not the passive
place of production or the concentration of capitals, but that of the
urban intervening as such in production (in the means of production)”
(Lefebvre 1996, 109–­10). Those forces that shape the city are eventually
also shaped by urban space itself. Lefebvre was one of the first spatial
theorists who pointed out the essentially dialectic character of the rela-
tionship between spatial and social structures (Soja 1980).
Besides Lefebvre, another French philosopher, Michel Foucault,
has been crucial to my understanding of Morocco’s “urban revolution”
and its relation to political change. Foucault’s (2007) intellectual project
on biopolitics sought to understand within the history of modernity and
modern thinking a fundamental shift in governmental reason, one that
understood individuals and collectivities no longer as legal subjects at
the mercy of a sovereign or sovereign power but as living human beings
that needed to be governed.
The rise to power of cities and their urban mercantile elite—­the
bourgeoisie—­at the cost of the landed aristocracy and feudal lords in
Europe was at the heart of this shift. It made sure that problems related
to increasing urbanization and a growing urban population (epidemics,
food scarcity, and revolt) became the governmental priorities with which
the new powers had to grapple. Moreover, these were the kinds of prob-
lems that could not be readily managed within the framework of sover-
eignty and the technologies of power defined by feudalism. Thus, a new
system of power emerged, generating new technologies of government
that were linked to what Foucault called the “problem of the town” and
the emergence of “the population” as a new political subject (Foucault
2007, 63–­79; see also Collier 2011, 16–­19, 42).
A Foucauldian perspective on urban politics in Morocco comple-
ments the Marxist approach I am developing in this book. The first
focuses not so much on the institutions of power—­“the great instruments
12 | Introduction

of the state”—­and the interests and (class) agency behind it but rather
on the governmental techniques necessary for the “insertion of bodies”
into the new urban order and the “adjustment of the phenomena of
population” to the neoliberal restructuring of the city (Foucault 1990,
141). Foucault wanted to point our attention to the fact that projects
of capital accumulation and—­in our case—­neoliberal reform could not
exist outside the central problem of modern society: how to govern
human beings? As such, neoliberalism should thus also be analyzed as a
“contemporary form through which life and population are being raised
as problems of government” (Collier 2011, 125).
Starting from both Lefebvre and Foucault, one could argue that the
area study of the Arab region needs new methodological and theoreti-
cal tools to understand the deeper urban structures and urban agency
behind current dynamics of political change and changing modalities of
authoritarian government. This has been highlighted both by the chal-
lenges the neoliberal order faces today in the aftermath of the global
economic crisis and by the unprecedented scale of mass uprisings and
popular contestation we have seen in the region since 2011.
I do not necessarily want to reject current mainstream analyses but
critically engage with them by trying to bridge the existing gap between,
on the one hand, Middle East urban studies and, on the other hand, the
wider field of political science on the region dealing with questions of
power, state, government, and globalization.

Neoliberalism and Its Place


Studying urban politics in Morocco in relation to the issue of neoliberal­
ism raises two important concerns. First, what do we really mean when
we talk about neoliberalism and how do we understand it in the context
of Morocco? Second, where does it come from?
With regard to the first concern, it is important to stress that pre-
cisely because a new neoliberal social order emerges out of concrete
struggles, it cannot just be reduced to some pure theoretical abstraction
disconnected from locality. Nevertheless, we should still try to under-
stand the concrete outcomes of conflicting interests in relation to more
general and global shifts.
Scholars who take into account the issue of neoliberalism risk to
make the mistake of comparing the specific contexts of their fields of
study with some kind of ideal type, one of what neoliberalism is supposed
Another random document with
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danger in which Islam was continually placed from the risk of a
contested succession followed by renewed bloodshed. The various
objections then raised may thus be summarised: ‘We shall consent,’
the spokesmen said, ‘to any one of these three things. First, do as
the Prophet did, and leave the election absolutely to the citizens of
Medîna. Or, secondly, do as Abu Bekr did, and nominate a
successor from amongst the Coreish.[584] Or, thirdly, like Omar,
appoint Electors who shall, from amongst the same, choose a
candidate to succeed thee. Only, like Abu Bekr and Omar, thou must
exclude thine own sons and thy Father’s sons.’ ‘As for the first
course,’ replied the Caliph, ‘there is no one now left like unto Abu
Bekr, that the people might choose him. As for the rest, verily I fear
the contentions and war that would ensue were not the succession
fixed aforehand.’ Then, finding all his arguments wasted in the air, he
called out the body-guard, and at the point of the sword caused all
the city to take the oath.
The example of Syria, Irâc, and the
Holy Cities, was followed by the whole Muâvia’s action becomes
precedent for future
empire without reserve. And ever after, the successions; even among
precedent of Muâvia more or less Abassides.
prevailed; that is to say, succession to the
Caliphate was based partly on descent, partly on the choice of the
reigning Caliph, his nomination being confirmed by an oath of fealty
taken first by the inhabitants at the seat of government, and then
generally throughout the empire. The last condition, representing the
fiction that the elective power was vested in the body of the Faithful,
became almost nominal, and the oath of allegiance was
consequently enforced by force of arms against recusants. The
practice thus was for the Commander of the Faithful to proclaim as
his successor the fittest, the noblest born, or the most favoured, of
his sons, or (in default of immediate issue) the best qualified
amongst his kinsmen. To him, as Heir Apparent, a provisional and
anticipatory oath of fealty was taken during his father’s lifetime; and
the succession, as a rule, was guided by that choice. Sometimes
even two successions were thus anticipated, the reigning prince
making a double nomination; but such attempt to forestall the distant
future was calculated to breed, rather than prevent, dissension.[585]
The practice thus begun by the Omeyyads, was followed equally
by the Abbassides; and proved a precedent even for later times.
CHAPTER XLIX.
YEZID AND THE TRAGEDY AT KERBALA.

A.H. LXI. A.D. 680.

After a reign of unusual length and


prosperity, Muâvia came to die at nearly Death of Muâvia. Rajab, a.h.
eighty years of age. As he felt the end LX. April, a.d. 680.
approaching, he brought forth a casket with parings in it of the
Prophet’s nails. Of these ground fine, he bade them sprinkle the
powder in his eyes and mouth when dead; and then bury him, for a
winding-sheet, in a garment which Mahomet gave him. Fortune had
favoured his rule. For twenty years he was Governor of Syria, and
nearly as many more the acknowledged Caliph of all Islam. Since
the abdication of Hasan, there had been, for the most part, profound
peace throughout the empire. Wise, courageous, and forbearing, he
held the dangerous and discordant elements that surrounded him in
check;[586] consolidated, and even extended, the already vast area
of Islam; and nursed commerce and the arts of peace, so that they
greatly flourished in his time.
But he looked to the future with anxiety.
The experiment of nominating Yezîd his His dying advice to Yezîd.
successor was sure to meet with
opposition when he was gone. So from his death-bed he sent a
message to Yezîd, who was absent at his huntingquarters, warning
him of those against whom he must be on his guard. There were
only four, he said, of whom, as former recusants, he need specially
beware; Abdallah son of Omar, Hosein son of Aly, Abdallah son of
Zobeir, and Abd al Rahmân son of Abu Bekr. The first, a pious
devotee, would surely succumb. The last might be persuaded by his
fellows to set up his claim; but he was too much engrossed with the
pleasures of the harem to be the cause of much anxiety.[587] ‘As for
Hosein,’ he continued, ‘the factious people of Irâc will not leave him
alone till he shall attempt the empire; when thou hast gotten the
victory, then deal gently with him, for verily the Prophet’s blood
runneth in his veins. It is the Son of Zobeir that I fear the most for
thee. Fierce as the lion, and crafty as the fox;—when within thy
grasp, destroy him root and branch, leaving not a vestige behind.’
The first care of Yezîd on ascending the
throne was to require the recusants who Hosein and the Son of Zobeir
had objected to his nomination as Heir escape to Mecca.
Apparent, to swear allegiance to him now as Caliph. These resided
at Medîna, and on the summons of the governor, two of them, the
sons of Omar and Abbâs (the latter, progenitor of the Abbassides), at
once complied with the command. But Abdallah son of Zobeir, and
Hosein son of Aly, hesitated; and, under cover of delay for
considering the matter, both of them escaped to Mecca.
Since its capture by Mahomet, fifty
years before, no enemy dared to go up Ibn Zobeir dissembles.
against the Holy City; and there, in like
security with the doves fluttering around the temple, whom no man
might molest, conspirators, abusing the privilege of asylum, were
able to hatch their plots against the empire. The ambition of Abdallah
ibn Zobeir, as Muâvia foresaw, aimed at the Caliphate; but so long
as Hosein remained at Mecca, he dissembled his intentions, and
professed to yield to the superior claims of the Prophet’s grandson.
The house of Aly was still, after a fashion, popular at Kûfa. The
fond and fickle populace of that factious
city now turned their eyes in the direction Hosein invited to Kûfa.
of Aly’s second son, Hosein. Invitations
began to pour in upon him from thence, with promises of support, if
he would but appear at Kûfa and claim his regal rights. Within a short
space after reaching Mecca, he received one hundred and fifty
missives of the kind. His friends pointed faithfully to the slippery
ways of the men of Kûfa, and earnestly besought him that he would
not trust himself amongst them there. But Ibn Zobeir, longing to be
rid of his rival, fostered the ambitious design. The unfortunate prince
in an evil hour was thus tempted to accept
the call. He sent, however, his cousin Muslim, sent in advance, put
to death at Kûfa.
Muslim first, to feel the way, and promote
his cause in Kûfa. Yezîd, hearing of the plot, deputed Obeidallah son
of Ziâd, his most capable lieutenant, from Bussorah, to take the
command at Kûfa. Muslim was discovered, soon after his arrival,
lurking in the house of Hâni, a friend to the lineage of Aly. The
populace, taking an unexpected turn in his favour, rose upon
Obeidallah, and besieging him in his castle, went near to turning the
tables against him. The ebullition, however, subsided almost as
quickly as it arose. Obeidallah regained the lead, and Muslim, with
his protector Hâni, was put to death.[588]
Meanwhile, Hosein, heedless of the
remonstrances of Ibn Abbâs and other Hosein sets out for Kûfa.
faithful friends, started from Mecca, with Dzul 680.
Hijj, a.h. LX. Sept. a.d.

his whole family and household, escorted


by a small but devoted band of his adherents. He had already
passed the great desert, and was well advanced on the road to Kûfa,
when tidings reached him of the fate of Muslim and Hâni. He was
staggered by the intelligence. It might well have seemed the height
of madness, encumbered as he was with the ladies of his household,
to venture himself into a hostile city; and it was yet possible for him
to have retraced his steps. But the brothers of Muslim were
clamorous with him to avenge his blood; and there was still the hope,
a forlorn hope indeed, that the numerous professing friends who had
drawn Hosein thither by specious promises, would, when he
appeared in person, arise and rally round him, as, before the Battle
of the Camel, they had rallied round his brother Hasan. But each
messenger and traveller whom they met brought worse and worse
reports. Farazdac, the poet, passed by; all the comfort he could give
Hosein was—‘The heart of Kûfa is with thee, but its sword against
thee.’ The Arab tribes, ever ready for a fray, had been swelling
Hosein’s band by the way, till it had become a considerable force;
but now perceiving how matters stood, and that the cause was
hopeless, they drew off, so that he was left with nothing besides his
original small following of some thirty horse and forty foot.[589] An
Arab chieftain of the Beni Tay besought him even now to divert his
course south-west, towards the hills of Aja and Selma—‘where,’ said
he, ‘in ten days time, twenty thousand swords and lances of my tribe
will gather round thee.’ Hosein would gladly have followed the
advice; ‘but,’ he replied, ‘I am surrounded, as thou seest, by women
and children; I cannot turn aside with them into the desert; I must
needs go forward.’ They had not proceeded far, when a body of
Kûfan horse appeared in sight. They were
under the command of Horr, an Arab Is met by Horr near Kûfa. 1
leader of the Beni Temîm, who courteously, Moharram,
680.
a.h. LXI. Oct. a.d.

but firmly, refused to let him pass. ‘My


orders,’ he said, ‘are to carry thee to Obeidallah, the son of Ziâd; but
if thou wilt not go with me, then turn to the right hand, or turn to the
left, as thou choosest, saving only the way back again to Mecca or
Medîna, for that thou mayest not take.’[590] So the little band turned
aside to the left; and, skirting Kûfa on the margin of the desert,
marched forward, for a day or two, along the banks of the Western
Euphrates. In taking this direction, Hosein had apparently no
immediate object beyond avoiding an attack from Kûfa. Horr kept
close by him, and courteous communications still passed between
them.
But it was dangerous to leave a
pretender to the Caliphate thus hovering Hosein stopped by Amr’s
around such a city as Kûfa, already excited cavalry at Kerbala.
by the affair of Muslim. So Obeidallah sent Amr son of Sád at the
head of four thousand horse with a second summons.[591] Thus
arrested, Hosein encamped his little band on the plain of Kerbala,
close by the western branch of the Euphrates, five-and-twenty miles
north-west of Kûfa. At repeated interviews, Hosein disclaimed
hostilities; which, indeed, with his slender following, and no prospect
of a rising in the city, were out of thought. He would submit, he said,
but only on one of these conditions: ‘Suffer me to return to the place
from whence I came; if not, then lead me to Yezîd, the Caliph, at
Damascus, and place my hand in his that I may speak with him face
to face; or, if thou wilt do neither of these things, send me far away to
the wars, where I shall fight, the Caliph’s faithful soldier, against the
enemies of Islam.’ But Obeidallah insisted upon an unconditional
submission; and to effect this without resort to arms, he ordered Amr
to cut off all access to the river, hoping that thirst might thus force
him to surrender. Hosein, who feared worse than death the cruel
name of Obeidallah son of Ziâd, stood firm to his conditions; and he
even prevailed on Amr himself to press them upon Obeidallah, and
beg that he might be sent to the Caliph’s court. It had been well for
the Omeyyad dynasty, if the request had
been complied with. Instead, Obeidallah, Shamir sent to bring in
impatient at the delay, jealous of his own Hosein, dead or alive. 8
Moharram. Oct. 8.
prestige, or fearing the fickleness of the
Kûfans, sent a creature of his own, an Arab called Shamir[592] (name
never uttered by good Moslem but with a shudder and a curse) with
orders that Amr should dally with Hosein no longer, but, dead or
alive, bring him into Kûfa; and with power to supersede Amr in
command should he fail in prompt obedience. Amr thus compelled,
or fearing to lose the government of Rei to which he had just been
promoted, forthwith surrounded the little camp more closely. Hosein,
securing now the position as best he could, declared that he would
not surrender, but would fight the battle to the last. The scene which
followed is still fresh as yesterday in the mind of every Believer, and
is commemorated with wild grief and frenzy as often as the fatal day,
the Tenth of the first month of the year, comes round. It has been
encircled by tradition with such harrowing recitals as never fail to
rouse the horror and indignation of the listener to the highest pitch.
The fond and pious Moslem forgets that Hosein, the leader of the
band, having broken his allegiance, and yielded himself to a
treasonable, though impotent, design upon the throne, was
committing an offence that endangered society, and demanded swift
suppression. He can see but the cruel and ruthless hand that
exterminated, with few exceptions, everyone in whose veins flowed
the sacred blood of the Prophet. And, in truth, the simple story needs
no adventitious colouring to touch the heart.
Hosein obtained a day’s respite to send
away his relatives from the fated camp. Hosein’s preparations for
But, one and all, they refused to listen to defence. 9 Moharram. Oct. 9.
his entreaty that they would leave him. During the night, his sister
Zeinab overheard what was going forward, for his servant was
furbishing her brother’s sword, and singing the while snatches of
martial verse on the impending combat. Hastily drawing her mantle
around her, she stole in the dark to her brother’s tent, and flinging
herself upon him in wild grief, beat her breast and face, and fell into
a swoon. Hosein poured water on her temples; but it was little that
he could do to comfort her. The tents were rudely staked together,
and some petty barricades of wood and reeds—the burning of which
might briefly check the onset—piled around; a poor defence against
the overwhelming foe. Aly, Hosein’s little son, lay sick of a fever, but
there was no drop of water to slake his parched lips. The women and
children passed the night in fear and crying.
On the morning of the fatal tenth of
Moharram, Hosein drew out his little band Hosein attacked, and, with all
for battle. There was a parley; and again his company, slain. 10
Moharram, a.h. LXI. Oct. 10,
he offered to retire, or be led to the a.d. 680.
presence of the Caliph. Finding that it was
all in vain, he alighted from his camel; and, surrounded by his
kinsmen, who stood with firm front for his defence, resolved to sell
life dear. At length, one shot an arrow from the Kûfic side, and, amid
the wailing of the women and little ones, the unequal fight began.
Arrows flew thick, and the forlorn company had its numbers
gradually thinned. Hosein’s nephew, Câsim by name, a lad of about
ten years of age, betrothed to his daughter Fâtima, was early struck
by an arrow, and died in the arms of his uncle. One after another, the
grown-up sons of Hosein, his brothers, nephews, and cousins, fell
before the shafts of the enemy. Some fled for shelter behind the
camp. The reeds were set on fire, and the flames, spreading to the
tents, added new horror to the scene. For long, none dared to attack
Hosein, and to the last it was hoped that he might yet surrender.
Towards the close of the conflict, driven by thirst, he sought to gain
the river-bank. The troops closed in behind, and he was cut off from
his family. The ‘cursed’ Shamir then led the attack. Struck by an
arrow, Hosein fell to the ground, and the Kûfic cavalry rode ruthlessly
across the corpse.
Not one of the fighting men of this
forlorn band escaped alive. But they fought Trunkless heads cast before
the Governor of Kûfa.
bravely; and left of their foes, more than
their own number dead upon the field. Two sons of Hosein, Aly
Akbar[593] and Abdallah, perished early in the day; and, at its close,
there were amongst the dead no less than six brothers of Hosein,
the sons of Aly; two nephews, sons of his brother Hasan; and six
others, descendants of Abu Tâlib, the father of Aly and uncle of
Mahomet.[594] The camp was plundered; but no further indignity was
offered to the inmates, mostly women and children, who were
carried, together with the ghastly load of seventy trunkless heads, to
Obeidallah’s palace. A shock of horror, such as never since has
ceased to thrill the Moslem world, seized the crowd, when the gory
head of the Prophet’s grandson was cast at Obeidallah’s feet. Hard
hearts were melted. As the governor turned the head roughly over
with his staff (though we must be slow to accept the tales of
heartless insult multiplied by Shîya hate), an aged voice from
amongst the courtiers was heard to cry: ‘Gently! for it is the
Prophet’s grandson. By the Lord! I have seen these very lips kissed
by the blessed mouth of Mahomet.’[595]
The sister of Hosein, his two little sons,
Aly Asghar[596] and Amr, and two The ladies and children sent
to Medîna.
daughters, sole survivors of the family,
were treated by Obeidallah with respect; and were sent along with
the head of the Pretender to the Caliph at Damascus. Whether
sincerely, or to escape the execrations which began already to be
heaped upon the actors in the tragedy, Yezîd disowned all
responsibility for the death of Hosein, and bitterly reproached
Obeidallah for the deed. The ladies and children were honourably
received into the Caliph’s household, and sent eventually, with every
comfort and consideration, back to their Medîna home. This
destination, meant in kindness by Yezîd, turned out badly for the
Omeyyad Caliphate. At Medîna, there
ensued a wild scene of grief and Reaction in favour of Aly’s
lamentation. Everything tended there to descendants.
intensify the sense of the catastrophe. The deserted dwellings
inhabited heretofore by the family and kinsmen of the Prophet, the
widowed ladies, the orphaned little ones, all added pathos to the
cruel tale. That tale, eagerly heard by groups of weeping listeners at
the lips of the women and children who alone survived to tell it—and
coloured, as oft repeated by them, with fresh and growing horrors—
was spread by the pilgrims flocking yearly to Medîna, over the whole
empire. The tragic story was taken up in every household. It soon
was seen that the Governor of Kûfa, in his zeal to suppress the
imperial claim of the house of Aly, had overshot the mark. The claim
of this line, heretofore unknown, or treated with indifference, struck
deep now into the hearts of multitudes; and a cloud of indignation
and wrath began to gather, which ere long burst upon the dynasty
accused of perpetrating the sacrilegious massacre. The tragedy of
Kerbala decided not only the fate of the Caliphate, but of Mahometan
kingdoms long after the Caliphate had waned and disappeared.
None who has witnessed the wild and
passionate grief with which, as the The ‘Moharram’.
anniversary each year comes round,
Moslems of every land beat their breasts, in vast crowds, the live-
long night, vociferating unweariedly the frantic cry, Hasan, Hosein!
Hasan, Hosein! in wailing cadence, can fail to recognise the fatal
weapon, sharp and double-edged, which the Omeyyad dynasty
allowed thus to fall into the hands of the house of Aly and the house
of Abbâs.[597]
CHAPTER L.
THE OMEYYAD AND ABBASSIDE DYNASTIES, AND
CONCLUSION.

It remains but very briefly to follow the


fortunes of the Omeyyad dynasty; to show Omeyyad and Abbasside
how it came to be supplanted by the dynasties.
Abbasside; to trace the history of the more potent tribal and spiritual
influences, which sprang up with the Faith; and to explain how some
of these, having served their time, have disappeared; while others
still survive, as powerful agencies in the rise and fall of nations, and
the destinies of Islam.
Yezîd soon felt the injury accruing to
the Caliphate from the revulsion of feeling, Yezîd. a.h. 60–64.
in favour of the family of Aly and against
the throne, which followed upon the tragedy of Kerbala. Kûfa, with its
proverbial inconstancy, was ever ready to espouse the cause of a
house the progenitors of which—Aly and his sons—it had cast aside,
and as readily again to let drop that cause. Bussorah, on the other
hand, was more inclined to the Khârejite heresy. But it was from a
very different quarter that the gravest peril first assailed Yezîd and
his successors. The danger, as Muâvia had foreshadowed, arose
from Abdallah ibn Zobeir. It was he who, to be rid of Hosein, had
encouraged that unfortunate prince in his desperate venture. No
sooner was the catastrophe of Kerbala announced at Mecca, than
Abdallah ibn Zobeir set up a claim in his own person. At first he
assumed the pious and modest title,
‘Protector of the Holy House.’ But he soon Ibn Zobeir affects the
went beyond this, and proclaimed himself Caliphate. a.h. 61.
a rival of the Caliph. Though closely connected with the Prophet’s
family, it was not to noble birth he trusted. He was a military
adventurer, as his father and Talha had been before him, trying
conclusions, but more successfully at the first, against the ruling
power. Yezîd swore that his adversary should be brought a prisoner,
chained by the neck, to Damascus. Shortly after, regretting the oath
and yet wishing to fulfil it in the letter, he sent the rebel a silver chain
to be thrown as an ornament about his neck, if he would present
himself at court. But Ibn Zobeir, scorning the offer, committed the
messengers to prison, and soon roused all Arabia against the
Caliph. The Governor of Medîna sent a deputation of its chief men to
Damascus, hoping that they might be won over by the gifts and
kindness of Yezîd. They returned
munificently rewarded, but with such an Medîna rebels, and is sacked.
account of the dissipation and disregard of a.h. 63. a.d. 683.
the obligations of Islam prevailing at the court, that the leaders of
Medîna were scandalised and forswore allegiance to the godless
Caliph. Thereupon an army was sent to chastise the rebellious city.
A battle was fought in its neighbourhood, and the vanquished
inhabitants were subjected for three days to the licence and rapine of
the Syrian troops. But in the end the cause of Ibn Zobeir gained
ground both in Arabia and the East. Aided by his brother Musáb, and
other able generals, he gained hold at one time of a great portion of
the empire. It is not, indeed, impossible that he might have defeated
the Omeyyads altogether, if he had consented to make common
cause with the Khârejite theocrats. But this he could not do; because
these demanded, as a first condition, that the memory of Othmân
should be denounced as that of a tyrant justly put to death; whereas,
in company with his father, the son of Zobeir had waged war with Aly
for the avowed purpose of avenging the blood of Othmân. His arms
were, therefore, turned against these heretics; and in everywhere
defeating them, he effectually served the cause of the Caliphs of
Damascus. For many years he maintained a rival court at Mecca;
and his rule is memorable for the rebuilding of the Holy House.[598]
Meanwhile another rebel against the
Omeyyads had appeared at Kûfa in the Rebellion of Mukhtâr. a.h.
65–67.
person of Mukhtâr, son of Abu Obeid.[599]
This adventurer first dallied with the Khârejites. Afterwards, changing
front, he professed himself the agent of the house of Aly, and the
lieutenant of Aly’s grandson then living at Medîna. As such for a time
Mukhtâr ruled at Kûfa, and took summary vengeance on all who had
been concerned in the massacre at Kerbala. Shamir and Amr were
both executed, and their heads sent to his pretended master. Over
Obeidallah, Mukhtâr gained a great victory on the Zab; and the
trunkless head of that unfortunate governor, who fell in the battle,
was carried to the palace at Kûfa, and cast upon the same spot
where just six years before he had gloated over the bloody head of
Hosein. Thus early was the tragedy of Kerbala avenged in the death
of its chief actors. But the success of Mukhtâr was not long-lived. He
was attacked by the generals of Ibn Zobeir, defeated and slain.
By these successful campaigns against
the Khârejites and against Mukhtâr, both Sequel of Ibn Zobeir, and
rebuilding the Káaba. a.h.
enemies of the empire, Ibn Zobeir was, in 63.
effect, clearing the way for the Court of
Damascus to strike a final blow against himself. His brother Musáb
was defeated and killed. The famous
Hajjâj, at this period the right arm of the Musáb killed. a.h. 71.
Omeyyad Caliphs, was now able to
concentrate his forces against the Pretender, who still held his court
at Mecca, and with an overpowering army to invest the sacred city.
Finding that his game was nearly played
out, Ibn Zobeir lost heart, and had thoughts Hajjâj besieges Mecca. Ibn
of surrendering. But his aged mother Zobeir slain. a.h. 73.
Asma, daughter of Abu Bekr, with the ancient spirit of the Arab
matron, exhorted her son to die as a hero should. And so, putting on
his armour, he rushed into the unequal combat, and fell. His mother,
now a centenarian, is the same who, at the Hegira, seventy-three
years before, tore off her girdle to bind the Prophet’s wallet to his
camel as he took his flight from the cave of Mount Thaur, and thus
earned the name of ‘the Woman of the shreds.’[600] It is almost the
last personal link we have connecting the Prophet’s life with the
Omeyyad Caliphate. What a world of events had transpired within
the lifetime of this lady!
On the death of Ibn Zobeir, who had
thus bravely held his ground as the rival of Omeyyad dynasty again
several successive Caliphs for thirteen supreme. a.h. 73.
years, the Omeyyad rule was anew recognised, without dispute, over
the whole Moslem realm, and the name of the reigning Caliph was
recited in the public prayers of every Mosque from the East to the
farthest West.
During the troublous times of which
mention has been made, several Death of Yezîd. a.h. 64.
successions had taken place in the
Caliphate. After a short and anxious reign, Yezîd died, leaving the
kingdom to a weak son, who survived but a few months. Amidst the
disturbances which followed, Merwân
made his way to the throne, and, dying in Merwân, a.h. 65.
the following year, left the empire to his
son Abd al Malik. This prince wielded the
sceptre for one-and-twenty years. The Abd al Malik. a.h. 65–86.
greater part of his reign was a struggle with
foes such as Ibn Zobeir, Mukhtâr, and other leaders of the Alyite
faction, besides the chronic outbursts of Khârejite fanaticism. At one
time the Caliph was so beset by these opponents, that for three
years he submitted to the humiliation of paying tribute to the
Byzantine Court. In the end he triumphed over all his enemies, and
transmitted a magnificent and still expanding kingdom to his son
Welîd.[601] Notwithstanding the storms that so long surrounded his
throne, Abd al Malik cultivated letters, and was mild and beneficent
in his sway. During the reign of his son,
which lasted ten years, the glory Welîd a.h. 86–96.
culminated of the Omeyyad race. Elements
of disorder still remained, but under the wise and firm sceptre of
Welîd they were held in check. The arts of peace prevailed; schools
were founded, learning cultivated, and poets royally rewarded; public
works of every useful kind were promoted, and even hospitals
established for the aged, lame, and blind. Such, indeed, at this era,
was the glory of the Court of Damascus, that Weil, of all the Caliphs
both before and after, gives the precedence to Welîd. It is the fashion
for the Arabian historians to abuse the Omeyyads as a dissolute,
intemperate, and godless race; but we must not forget that these all
wrote more or less under Abbasside inspiration. And Welîd
especially suffers at their hands; for it was under him that Hajjâj[602]
made the assault upon the Holy City—a ‘sacrilege’ which still rankles
in the Believer’s soul; and, moreover, during whose twenty years’
splendid vice-royalty in the East, Kûfa and Bussorah were both
bathed in blood; and hence some part of the hatred against the
tyrant has come to be reflected upon the name of his Master also. It
is too true, indeed, that at Damascus, as in other great cities of the
empire, there was now rapidly supervening a shameless laxity of
manners; but neither in the Caliphs themselves, nor in their
surroundings, did the looseness of morality at the Syrian Court
surpass that which, under the Abbassides, not long after prevailed
within the royal precincts of Baghdad.[603]
After Welîd, the Omeyyad dynasty
lasted six-and-thirty years. But it began to Omeyyad Caliphs. a.h. 96–
132.
rest on a precarious basis. For now the
agents of the house of Hâshim, descendants of the Prophet and of
his uncle Abbâs, commenced to ply secretly, but with vigour and
persistency, their task of canvass and intrigue in distant cities, and
especially in the provinces of the East.
For a long time, the endeavour of these
agitators was directed to the advocacy of The Shîya faction canvass
the Shîya right; that is to say, it was based for Alyite pretenders.
upon the Divine claim of Aly, and his descendants in the Prophet’s
line, to the Imâmate or leadership over the empire of Islam.[604]
Risings everywhere from time to time took place in favour of some
one or other in whose veins flowed the blood of Aly. Everywhere the
attempts were suppressed, the pretenders slain or cast into prison,
and their armies defeated in the field. But a
new and more fatal danger soon arose. Canvass in favour of house of
The discomfiture of the Shîyas paved the Abbâs.
way for the designing advocates of the other Hâshimite branch,
namely, that of the house of Abbâs, the uncle of the Prophet. These
had all along been plotting in the background, and watching their
opportunity. They now vaunted the claims of this line, and were
barefaced enough to urge that, being descended from the uncle of
Mahomet through male representatives, they took precedence over
the direct descendants of the Prophet himself, because these came
through Fâtima in the female line. About
the year 130 of the Hegira, Abul Abbâs, of Abul Abbâs supported by Abu
Abbasside descent, was put forward in Muslim in Persia. a.h. 130.
Persia, as the candidate of this party, and his claim was supported
by the famous general Abu Muslim. Successful in the East, Abu
Muslim turned his arms to the West. A
great battle, one of those which decide the Battle of the Zab. a.h. 132.
fate of empires, was fought on the banks of a.d. 750.
the Zab; and, through the defection of certain Khârejite and Yemen
levies, was lost by the Omeyyad army. Merwân II., the last of his
dynasty, was driven to Egypt, and there killed in the church of Bussir,
whither he had fled for refuge. At the close
of the year 132,[605] the black flag, emblem Abul Abbâs succeeds to the
Caliphate.
of the Abbassides, floated over the
battlements of Damascus. The Omeyyad dynasty, after ruling the
vast Moslem empire for a century, now disappeared in cruelty and
bloodshed. Alyite, Omeyyad, and Khârejite, were equally the victims
of the exterminating sword of the first Abbasside Caliph, who thereby
earned for himself the unenviable name of Al Saffâh, ‘The
Bloody.’[606]
So perished the royal house of the
Omeyyads. But one escaped. He fled to Omeyyad dynasty in Spain.
Spain, which had never favoured the a.h. 138. a.d. 756.
overweening pretensions of the Prophet’s family, whether in the line
of Aly or Abbâs. Accepted by the Arab tribes, whose influence in the
West was paramount, Abd al Rahmân now laid the foundation of a
new Dynasty, and perpetuated the Omeyyad name at the
magnificent court of Cordova. Some years
previously, the flood of Moslem victory Moslem defeat at Tours. a.d.
sweeping northwards had been stemmed 732.
and rolled back by Charles Martel at Tours; but a grand career yet
remained within the peninsula of Spain to illustrate this remnant of
the Omeyyad race.
Thus with the rise of the Abbassides,
the unity of the Caliphate came to an end. Other Moslem kingdoms.
Never after, either in theory or in fact, was
there a successor to the Prophet, acknowledged as such over all
Islam. Other provinces followed in the wake of Spain. The Aghlabite
dynasty in the east of Africa and west of it, the Edrisites in Fez, both
of Alyite descent; Egypt and Sicily under independent rulers; the
Tâhirite kings in Persia, their native soil; these and others, breaking
away from the central government, established kingdoms of their
own. The name of Caliph, however it might
survive in the Abbasside lineage, or be The Caliphate in its original
assumed by less legitimate pretenders, significance
end.
comes to an

had now altogether lost its virtue and


significance.
Yet a splendid empire remained for the
Abbassides. They carried their court from The Abbassides transfer seat
Damascus, where the memory of the late of government to Baghdad.
a.h. 145.
dynasty inconveniently survived its fall, to
the banks of the Euphrates. There, Kûfa, too prone to be inflamed by
Alyite intrigue against the new line of Caliphs, was finally abandoned
as the seat of royalty. Another capital was founded by Abu Jáfar, the
second of the Abbassides, at Baghdad, fifteen miles above Medâin,
on the western bank of the Tigris. For many years, Alyites,
Omeyyads, and Khârejites continued to be punished with equal
rigour by the new dynasty, and much insecurity and bloodshed
prevailed. But misrule and rebellion in the end gave place to rest and
peace, and a century followed of unparalleled grandeur and
prosperity. Baghdad, answering to its
proud name of Dâr al Salâm, ‘The City of Splendour of Baghdad, the
Peace,’ became for a time the capital of City of Peace.
the world, the centre of luxury, the emporium of commerce, and the
seat of learning.
At the close of the second century of
the Hegira, Al Mâmûn succeeded to the Al Mâmûn. a.h. 198–218.
throne. His mother was a Persian lady; and
he had imbibed from her, and the society in which he was reared at
Merve, the principles of the Motázilites.
This strange system, which had recently Motázilite creed.
sprung up in the East, was grafted by the
sectarians of Aly (Shîyites) on the transcendental philosophy of the
Persians. It was, in fact, a new and altogether unlooked-for
development, or rather perversion, of Islam. Heretofore, the sole
ground of faith had been the Corân, and the Sunnat or deliverances
preserved by tradition from the lips of Mahomet. Now, under the
Divine Imâmate, or spiritual leadership vested in some member of
the house of Aly, there might be other infallible sources of guidance
from above. There arose, in fact, a new school of interpretation, one
might almost say, a new dispensation. The Corân was treated
allegorically; and such difficulties as beset the Orthodox, offended
reason, or cramped the growth of society, were thus easily evaded.
[607] In the system so evolved, the Prophet, had he revisited the
earth, would hardly have recognised his own religion. This elastic
development of the Faith, sublimated by the mysticism of Persia, and
refined by the subtleties of Indian philosophy, was eagerly embraced
by the natives of the Eastern provinces. And Al Mâmûn, who on his
accession remained still for a time at Merve, fell deeply under its
influence. So inclined was he to the house
of Aly, that he gave a daughter of his own Embraced by Al Mâmûn.
in marriage to one of that lineage, and he
even adopted their green ensign;—hoping thus to unite the lines of
Aly and Abbâs in one new dynasty. Although, on transferring his
court to Baghdad, he abandoned the design,[608] Mâmûn still
remained faithful to the rationalistic creed. He surrounded himself at
the capital with the learned of all persuasions; and in company with
them was used to hold discussions, at which such grave questions
as those affecting man’s relations with the Deity, and the nature of
the Godhead itself, were freely handled. In opposition to the
Orthodox, he believed in the doctrine of Free-will. From the received
teaching that the Corân is uncreated and eternal, he recoiled, as at
variance with the unity of the Godhead; and, in the end, he
proclaimed, with pains and penalties for dissent, that it was created.
Thus, though a Free-thinker himself, Al Mâmûn, as often happens,
denied the free right of judgment to others; and he persecuted
cruelly, and on one or two occasions even to the death, those who
ventured to differ with him. Still freedom of opinion and open
discussion were, beyond comparison, more tolerated under the

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