Deliberate Speed: Morocco’s Earthquake Response

Deliberate Speed: Morocco’s Earthquake Response

 

Shortly after 11.00 pm on 8 September, a massive earthquake struck the High Atlas of Morocco, some 45 miles southwest of Marrakech. Its tremors were felt far to the north, in cities such as Fès and Taza, where people fled into the streets. In Marrakech, close to the epicenter, the impact was terrifying. In the villages of the High Atlas, however, it was devastating. Within ten days, official estimates were suggesting almost 3,000 dead and more than 5,500 injured.

Accusations and recriminations appeared almost immediately in the international press. The scale of death and suffering was due, it was claimed, to King Mohammed VI waiting at his residence in Paris before returning to his people, to his failure to issue an immediate statement, to the hesitation of the prime minister Aziz Akhannouch to respond without delay because protocol forbade him to act before the king had spoken, to a reluctance to accept international aid – especially from France – without hesitation, and to the inability of government rescue teams to reach mountain villages with the necessary speed.

But did the allegations acknowledge the fundamental problem? The period for saving the lives of anyone buried after buildings collapse during an earthquake is very short. Early reports from rescuers stated that many residents had extricated themselves or been rescued by their families or neighbours. At least where possible, the injured had been taken to seek medical assistance, but roads were often blocked, transport unavailable, and hospitals or clinics distant and soon overwhelmed. Remaining in a village without shelter could itself prove fatal. Nights in the High Atlas were already cold.

While the earthquake itself was a disaster, it occurred in a region that was not only remote but also impoverished and marginalized. Most of the inhabitants are not Arab but Amazigh, the indigenous “free people” who were pushed into the Rif and the Atlas by the arrival of Arab armies at the end of the seventh century. They were often known as “Berber,” because their speech was unintelligible to the conquerors, and they still possess a distinct culture, language, and alphabet. Although Mohammed VI has made a concerted attempt to reduce differences in status among the peoples of Morocco, and Tamazight is now widely seen alongside Arabic and French in official documents and public notices, life in regions such as the Rif or the Atlas remains difficult. The villages of the High Atlas have been described as “another Morocco” of which most foreign visitors and even many Moroccans have little knowledge.

News cycles are very short. Two days after the earthquake, massive floods in Libya provided an even more compelling version of a theme that many journalists find irresistible: desperate suffering in Africa where a state was failing to address a crisis and victims were in need of urgent help from the West to have any hope of surviving. Morocco is quite different from Libya, however. The state might have been slower than its critics might have liked, but it did exist and it did act.

It also had its own concerns. The government was clearly thinking of the political implications of accepting international aid. While the influence of France remains ubiquitous more than fifty years after independence in what was French North Africa and French West Africa, it is increasingly seen in the region as intrusive, arrogant, and not always effective. Official announcements from Rabat were clear about the sources from which assistance would be welcome. The countries that were chosen – Spain, the United Kingdom, Qatar, and the United Arab Emirates – have all favored Moroccan views about the status of the former Spanish colony in the Western Sahara and their involvement is not seen as compromising Moroccan sovereignty on this or other issues. Statements in the French press in particular suggest that Moroccan suspicion is not exaggerated.

Beyond the immediate concerns of the government itself, Moroccan society is still remarkably robust. Even before the machinery of state applied itself to the crisis, citizens and community organizations throughout the country were collecting food, medical supplies, clothing, and money and delivering them to the affected region. The scale of public involvement continues to be impressive. While foreign assistance will undoubtedly be important, Moroccans were in a very real sense saving themselves.

But will anyone be able to save the Amazigh villages of the High Atlas? Some villages have been completely destroyed, the cost of rebuilding is almost certain to exceed even the large amounts of money that are being promised, and younger Amazigh men in particular had already begun to leave the village in the hope of finding work in cities. A rich and distinctive culture is at risk of being lost.

This is not a problem unique to the High Atlas, of course, or to Morocco. Distinctive rural cultures with ancient ways of life are vanishing just as urban elites become more aware of the importance of preserving them. This “other Morocco” is far removed from the gleaming world of high-speed rail projects, international airports, digital technology, and renewable energy. Its value may be more difficult to calculate in purely economic terms, but its marginalization has meant that much of Morocco has never seen it and has not yet begun to consider its significance for the life of the nation. It has been suggested that Moroccan authorities might have moved slowly at first because the High Atlas seems so different from Morocco’s new identity as a bridge between Europe, Africa, and the Middle East.

The real task will therefore lie not so much in rebuilding but in ensuring a way of life that can be viable without compromising the traditions of local communities. If the people of the High Atlas leave their villages, what of importance will remain to be saved?

For corporations and investors, the attraction of Morocco remains undiminished by the earthquake. The resilience and ingenuity of the people and the diplomatic acumen of its leaders should be reassuring. The deliberation in selecting the countries from which Morocco would receive international aid can be seen as evidence of a sophisticated and measured approach to questions of sovereignty and international relations. In a part of Africa where military coups in the Sahel, the withdrawal of the French military, and the arrival of Russian mercenaries are unsettling, such careful calculation is not just impressive but essential.