[ARTICLE] On Morocco's Jews
Sep. 19th, 2003 10:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rfmcdonaldFrom Ha'aretz:
All the king's men
By Daniel Ben Simon
CASABLANCA, Morocco - Soon another Shabbat will end, and the worshipers in King David Synagogue in Casablanca will take their leave of one another with kisses on the cheek and head for home. Until next Shabbat. A little while ago, they sat in the spacious hall in the basement of the building and listened to a sermon delivered by Eli Cohen, an affluent businessman who manufactures chemical substances. Cohen acquired Torah learning in his spare time and thus obtained the status of a preacher among the congregants.
Fewer than 15 worshipers remained for the evening prayer. More than 40 had turned up for the morning service, and a few women wearing fashionable hats sat in the women's section. Cohen did a lot of gesturing with his hands to illustrate how closely connected the weekly Torah portion was to the events of the week in Morocco. Skillfully interweaving three languages - the bit of Hebrew he learned in the Jewish school along with fluent French and Moroccan Arabic - he expounded on the meaning of the positive commandments and the prohibitory commandments. "Hada hawa l'esprit juif shel mitzvat aseh," he told his audience - "This is the Jewish spirit of a positive commandment."
Immediately after the sermon and after eating their fill of the refreshments that were offered, the worshipers went upstairs to the synagogue floor. Each of the hundreds of seats organized in a U shape around the Ark of the Law has its owner's name engraved on it in gilded letters. More than 50 synagogues serve the Jewish community of Casablanca, which has fewer than 2,500 members. The splendid King David Synagogue was completed two years ago, enabling the residents of the prestigious Anfa Quarter to pray close to home. Before that, they had to walk about half an hour to reach the nearest synagogue, which was an ordeal for the older worshipers.
Before the evening prayer, one of the worshipers ascended to the platform to pray for "the well-being of our prime minister and the safety of our soldiers" - referring to the prime minister of Israel and the soldiers of the Israel Defense Forces - as well as for the well-being of King Mohammed VI, Crown Prince Mulai Hassan and the entire royal family. He would afterward add a blessing for the soldiers of the IDF for "defending us from the border of Lebanon to the Egyptian desert ...."
Emerging from the synagogue, the worshipers embraced and kissed and wished each other a good week. Standing at the gate were two uniformed security men and next to them, two sloppy looking guards. The Jews waved to them in greeting and the guards replied "Shavua tov" - Have a good week - in Hebrew. In the past there was only one guard stationed at the synagogue, but since the terrorist attacks of May 16 security at all Jewish institutions has been beefed up. There are also undercover police who patrol the site 24 hours a day.
Nevertheless, it is clear from the looks on the worshipers' faces that the heightened security has not diminished the fear that was generated on the night of terror that shook the country. The most popular Jewish club in the city is located not far from the synagogue - or, to be more accurate, the ruins of what was once a popular club. For years, the Jewish club, Le Cercle de l'Alliance, was a favorite of the city's Jews and of visiting Israeli tourists. In addition to a large restaurant that served kosher food, the club also had gaming rooms. Hundreds of Jews gathered there every evening in a Jewish- Israeli atmosphere and discussed Moroccan and Israeli politics in a fusion of Hebrew and Moroccan and reveled in the strong sense that Jewish life in Morocco was guaranteed forever. Here they could, without interference, wear a skullcap, speak Hebrew and feel Jewish.
It might have been mass murder
And then the unthinkable happened. On that calamitous night, 14 suicide bombers targeted five sites. Three of them made their way to the Jewish club. It was Friday night, the Sabbath eve, and the assailants were certain that this would be the most crowded night at the club; they didn't know that this was the only night of the week when the club was closed. Only one guard stood between them and the building. One of the attackers blew himself up and killed the guard, a Muslim, and the two others entered and set off the explosives they were carrying. The building collapsed like a house of cards, burying the remains of the suicide bombers beneath the rubble.
A few minutes before the blast, Serge Berdugo and his hosts in Casablanca were about to begin their Sabbath eve meal. The head of the Jewish community was sitting comfortably in his chair when his mobile phone rang. Hysterically, his Muslim housekeeper told him about the explosion. Berdugo stopped her sharply. "Calm down," he told her. "What explosion are you talking about?" he asked. "At the Jewish club," she stammered.
Berdugo began to show signs of impatience. Not even in his worst nightmares had he imagined a scenario like this. A few minutes later, the housekeeper's husband called and described what had occurred at the club. He and his family live across the way from the club and were witnesses to the horrific incident. "I saw a body on the floor," he said in a trembling voice.
Berdugo rushed to the site. He will not soon forget what he saw there. A row of policemen surrounded the place where the building had stood and where now there was only a crater in which were the remains of walls, chairs and tables.
The country's two television networks broadcast live from the scenes of the attacks and the Jews of Casablanca stayed up all night watching. They calmed down only after it became clear that there were no Jews among the dead. At the same time, they were deeply upset at the thought of what could have happened if the suicide bombers had chosen some other night to attack the club. "I don't even want to think about it," Berdugo sighs. "There could have been hundreds of casualties - mass murder."
According to David Elkeslassi, director of the Jewish club, if the attack had succeeded, it would have put a brutal end to Jewish existence in Morocco. Two weeks ago, Elkeslassi attended the funeral of Yaakov Azran, who died at a ripe old age and was buried in the well-kept cemetery of the Jewish community in Casablanca. Hundreds of people came to bid farewell to the man who was a pillar of the community for decades. As he was talking about the Jewish club, Elkeslassi cast a lengthy glance at the Moroccan security men who were providing protection for the funeral. Since the May attacks, the authorities are taking no chances: Every event involving an assembly of Jews is given protection. The main road leading to the cemetery was closed to traffic and the police ordered cars to use other routes.
It's clear that Elkeslassi has not yet recovered from the trauma of the club's destruction. Since taking over as director, he had rarely missed an evening of work. On the Friday of the explosion he was abroad. When he returned the next day, he discovered that the building, which had been his whole life, was razed to the ground. "I have to admit that if the suicide bombers had chosen a different day, hundreds of people would have been killed," he said as he marched in the funeral procession. "I don't want to think about it, but if it had happened, God forbid, we would not be here today. Not one Jew would be left in Morocco," he said in a whisper.
The timing of the attack led the authorities to conclude that foreigners were behind it. "Local people would have known that the Jewish club is closed on Friday night," Berdugo explained. That conclusion went some way toward dissipating the fear that had spread through the community and allowed them to take comfort in the illusion, which was quite temporary, that Moroccans were not involved in planning the horrific action. In their distress, they have insisted on continuing to cultivate coexistence, even when the reality all around threatened to undermine their sense of tranquility.
The tiny Jewish community that still exists in Morocco is the last slice of life of a riveting historical saga that began when Jews reached Morocco in search of a haven from the ravages of the Spanish Inquisition. At its height, the community numbered 600,000 Jews, who lived across the country in natural partnership with their Arab neighbors. Their civil status was inferior to that of the Muslims, because they were considered dhimmi - members of a non-Muslim religious community in a Muslim state granted protection and certain rights by the ruler. The Jews benefited from the arrival of the French in Morocco, in 1912, as they were able to internalize the values that the Western occupiers brought with them. Within a few decades the Jews rose to a high level on the professional scale, slightly below the French and well above the Muslims.
Then, in the late 1940s, Zionism burst into Morocco like a gale and swept up the Jews in its wake. The majority immigrated to Israel, most of the others to France and Canada. Within less than 40 years the community dwindled to only a few thousand members, the majority living in Casablanca, Morocco's economic capital.
The Jewish-Muslim connection
The worshipers who had just emerged from King David Synagogue tarried a bit by the entrance. They spoke in whispers so the Muslim guards wouldn't be able to hear them. It was always like that. Whenever the Jews talked about their Jewishness or about Israel, they made sure to distance themselves from alien ears. One of the worshipers said that what happened on May 16 is a breaking point in the history of the Jews in Morocco. The worshipers around silenced him. "It wasn't done against us," Eli Cohen said. "The regime was the target. And besides, May 16 has already passed and it's not worth talking about."
His brother, Dr. Isaac Cohen, a highly esteemed physician among the Jews and Muslims in the city and beyond, nodded his head in assent. To be on the safe side, he looked carefully around to make sure that no outside eyes were spying on the crowd.
Michel Terdjman took umbrage at the two brothers. "It's not right to describe the events like that," he burst out. "We were all seized by panic and were afraid that the Jews were going to be killed. Don't you remember? If the king, may God protect him, hadn't reassured us, we would not be standing here now."
Indeed, King Mohammed VI played a key role in allaying the fears of the Jewish community. This introverted man, who succeeded his father, King Hassan II, in July 1999, had seemed to the outside world like an apple that fell far from the tree. His refined character and soft speech are the complete opposite of his father's toughness.
When he succeeded to the throne, Western intelligence agencies outdid one another in forecasting his rapid overthrow. Most of them gave him less than a year, the optimists talked about two years. All of them believed that the army or the Islamists would be his undoing. Four years later, the intelligence agencies have once again proved that they are poor prophets. Not only has the king stayed on the throne, he has also fomented a quiet revolution centered on promoting civil society in a country in which the tone is set by the army and the security services.
On the day after the attacks in Casablanca, the king canceled his regular daily schedule and visited the city to inspect the damage. Of the five targets that were chosen, two belonged to the Jewish community: the club and the old Jewish cemetery. The other targets, a luxury hotel and two restaurants, were magnets for affluent tourists.
Escorted by a large entourage, the king entered the site of the devastated Jewish club. For some time he wandered around the ruins, barely able to conceal his emotions. The only object in the club that had escaped unscathed was his photograph, which had a few bloodstains on it. Deeply moved, the king stared at the photograph, as though in disbelief. He promised the heads of the community that he would lend his patronage to the reopening of the club and that the state would assist in the rebuilding costs.
The Jews were utterly thrilled. "I will never forget that visit," said Michel Terdjman. "I saw it as a guarantee that the king gave the Jews. Our feeling is that he was as deeply affronted as we were by what they tried to do to the Jews."
"Now we are calm," Eli Cohen interjected, "because we know that the terrorists did not want to hurt the Jews. They wanted to strike at the regime and by chance they attacked Jewish institutions. If there was suspicion to the contrary, we would see Jews leaving the country. But thank God, no one has left and nothing has changed. We are calm."
Terdjman: "The attacks released something good within me, because they strengthened our status as Jews instead of weakening it. Once we were afraid to emphasize our Jewish identity and we would go to synagogue at quiet times of the day in order not to attract attention. Since the attacks you could say that we have come out of the closet. Because the king came to us and accorded us a status of citizens he cares about."
Photographs of the king visiting the ruins of the Jewish club appeared on the front pages of every paper in the country. The special statement he issued in the wake of the attack on the Jews was also disseminated by all the country's media outlets. "Morocco will always remain open to other cultures and will always promote understanding and tolerance among the people of this nation," the royal statement said.
As though this wasn't enough, 10 days after the attacks, a huge march was held in which Jews and Muslims walked hand in hand, in a spectacle the likes of which Casablanca had never seen. "No to hatred, no to terrorism," the posters at the march declared. Muslims held huge banners that read, "Jews and Muslims! We are all citizens! We are all Moroccans!"
The Israeli connection
Nevertheless, something had changed in the weave of relations between Jews and Arabs in Morocco. Like other Jewish communities around the world, the Jewish community of Morocco felt in its own flesh the effects of the lethal confrontation between Israel and the Palestinians. The Moroccans saw the images on television and expressed their anger in mass demonstrations held in the capital, Rabat. The Jews found themselves in an awkward situation. On the one hand, they secretly identified with Israel's struggle, but at the same time, they didn't want to play up their attitude in the light of the anti-Israeli atmosphere that gripped the Moroccan public.
Khalil Hashimi Idrissi relates that he is compelled to devote a large amount of space in the paper he heads, Aujourd'hui, le Maroc (Today, Morocco), to the Palestinian issue. "As in every Arab country, the Palestinian question is at the center of our lives," he said in his spacious office, which is located in the center of Casablanca. "The Moroccans feel solidarity with the Palestinian struggle and want the country's authorities to do something."
The headlines of the papers here are routinely devoted to events in the territories. There is hardly a newscast on radio or television that does not open with this subject. "Your conflict has reached such cruel proportions that we feel that our stories and articles have become banal," Idrissi added. "You have reached such a level of cruelty in mutual killing that we no longer see any hope. Like everyone, we, too, held out hopes for the road map, and the king even promised to restore relations with Israel, but nothing happened. On the day you tried to assassinate [Hamas spiritual leader] Sheikh Yassin and to expel Yasser Arafat, I understood that something has gone seriously awry in the approach of the Israeli leaders."
The events in the territories leave a daily imprint on the life of the Jews in Morocco. A few days after Foreign Minister Silvan Shalom was received by King Mohammed VI, Israel tried to assassinate Sheikh Yassin. The press attacked the action and the opposition parties attacked - albeit in moderate tones - the logic of inviting the Israeli foreign minister to visit at such a problematic time.
The funeral of Yaakov Azran in Casablanca took place two days after the attack on Sheikh Yassin and a group of Hamas leaders. One of the marchers in the cortege took solace in the fact that the assassination did not succeed. "Do you think we would be marching like this if Sheikh Yassin had been killed?" he said. "Do you imagine that hundreds of Jews would be at the funeral? Absolutely not. It's possible that mass demonstrations would have been held on the main streets of Casablanca." Elkeslassi, the director of the Jewish club, nodded his head in agreement.
Another participant in the funeral, who also asked not to be identified by name, said it wouldn't hurt if Israel showed consideration for the Jews living outside the country before carrying out its actions. Others told him to be quiet. "What are you talking about?" someone else said. "That's the way to deal with the Arabs. Force is the only thing they understand, and it's a pity they didn't get Sheikh Yassin. What, is it different here? Don't our security services liquidate the Muslim terrorists? The only way to stop them from raising their head is to make them afraid."
As they argued about the Arab character, an elderly man joined the group and signaled that he wanted to say something. The others fell silent. "It's true that force is what the Arabs understand, but they are very sensitive to their honor," he said in a slightly quavering voice. "You can use force against them on condition you do not impugn their honor. But you Israelis don't miss a chance to impugn their honor."
As we left the cemetery, police stopped the traffic so that the luxurious cars of the Jews could turn onto the road. Some of the men quickly removed their skullcaps and stuffed them into their pockets. They may have felt that in the atmosphere that has taken hold in the country lately, it's best not to flaunt their Jewishness.
All the king's men
By Daniel Ben Simon
CASABLANCA, Morocco - Soon another Shabbat will end, and the worshipers in King David Synagogue in Casablanca will take their leave of one another with kisses on the cheek and head for home. Until next Shabbat. A little while ago, they sat in the spacious hall in the basement of the building and listened to a sermon delivered by Eli Cohen, an affluent businessman who manufactures chemical substances. Cohen acquired Torah learning in his spare time and thus obtained the status of a preacher among the congregants.
Fewer than 15 worshipers remained for the evening prayer. More than 40 had turned up for the morning service, and a few women wearing fashionable hats sat in the women's section. Cohen did a lot of gesturing with his hands to illustrate how closely connected the weekly Torah portion was to the events of the week in Morocco. Skillfully interweaving three languages - the bit of Hebrew he learned in the Jewish school along with fluent French and Moroccan Arabic - he expounded on the meaning of the positive commandments and the prohibitory commandments. "Hada hawa l'esprit juif shel mitzvat aseh," he told his audience - "This is the Jewish spirit of a positive commandment."
Immediately after the sermon and after eating their fill of the refreshments that were offered, the worshipers went upstairs to the synagogue floor. Each of the hundreds of seats organized in a U shape around the Ark of the Law has its owner's name engraved on it in gilded letters. More than 50 synagogues serve the Jewish community of Casablanca, which has fewer than 2,500 members. The splendid King David Synagogue was completed two years ago, enabling the residents of the prestigious Anfa Quarter to pray close to home. Before that, they had to walk about half an hour to reach the nearest synagogue, which was an ordeal for the older worshipers.
Before the evening prayer, one of the worshipers ascended to the platform to pray for "the well-being of our prime minister and the safety of our soldiers" - referring to the prime minister of Israel and the soldiers of the Israel Defense Forces - as well as for the well-being of King Mohammed VI, Crown Prince Mulai Hassan and the entire royal family. He would afterward add a blessing for the soldiers of the IDF for "defending us from the border of Lebanon to the Egyptian desert ...."
Emerging from the synagogue, the worshipers embraced and kissed and wished each other a good week. Standing at the gate were two uniformed security men and next to them, two sloppy looking guards. The Jews waved to them in greeting and the guards replied "Shavua tov" - Have a good week - in Hebrew. In the past there was only one guard stationed at the synagogue, but since the terrorist attacks of May 16 security at all Jewish institutions has been beefed up. There are also undercover police who patrol the site 24 hours a day.
Nevertheless, it is clear from the looks on the worshipers' faces that the heightened security has not diminished the fear that was generated on the night of terror that shook the country. The most popular Jewish club in the city is located not far from the synagogue - or, to be more accurate, the ruins of what was once a popular club. For years, the Jewish club, Le Cercle de l'Alliance, was a favorite of the city's Jews and of visiting Israeli tourists. In addition to a large restaurant that served kosher food, the club also had gaming rooms. Hundreds of Jews gathered there every evening in a Jewish- Israeli atmosphere and discussed Moroccan and Israeli politics in a fusion of Hebrew and Moroccan and reveled in the strong sense that Jewish life in Morocco was guaranteed forever. Here they could, without interference, wear a skullcap, speak Hebrew and feel Jewish.
It might have been mass murder
And then the unthinkable happened. On that calamitous night, 14 suicide bombers targeted five sites. Three of them made their way to the Jewish club. It was Friday night, the Sabbath eve, and the assailants were certain that this would be the most crowded night at the club; they didn't know that this was the only night of the week when the club was closed. Only one guard stood between them and the building. One of the attackers blew himself up and killed the guard, a Muslim, and the two others entered and set off the explosives they were carrying. The building collapsed like a house of cards, burying the remains of the suicide bombers beneath the rubble.
A few minutes before the blast, Serge Berdugo and his hosts in Casablanca were about to begin their Sabbath eve meal. The head of the Jewish community was sitting comfortably in his chair when his mobile phone rang. Hysterically, his Muslim housekeeper told him about the explosion. Berdugo stopped her sharply. "Calm down," he told her. "What explosion are you talking about?" he asked. "At the Jewish club," she stammered.
Berdugo began to show signs of impatience. Not even in his worst nightmares had he imagined a scenario like this. A few minutes later, the housekeeper's husband called and described what had occurred at the club. He and his family live across the way from the club and were witnesses to the horrific incident. "I saw a body on the floor," he said in a trembling voice.
Berdugo rushed to the site. He will not soon forget what he saw there. A row of policemen surrounded the place where the building had stood and where now there was only a crater in which were the remains of walls, chairs and tables.
The country's two television networks broadcast live from the scenes of the attacks and the Jews of Casablanca stayed up all night watching. They calmed down only after it became clear that there were no Jews among the dead. At the same time, they were deeply upset at the thought of what could have happened if the suicide bombers had chosen some other night to attack the club. "I don't even want to think about it," Berdugo sighs. "There could have been hundreds of casualties - mass murder."
According to David Elkeslassi, director of the Jewish club, if the attack had succeeded, it would have put a brutal end to Jewish existence in Morocco. Two weeks ago, Elkeslassi attended the funeral of Yaakov Azran, who died at a ripe old age and was buried in the well-kept cemetery of the Jewish community in Casablanca. Hundreds of people came to bid farewell to the man who was a pillar of the community for decades. As he was talking about the Jewish club, Elkeslassi cast a lengthy glance at the Moroccan security men who were providing protection for the funeral. Since the May attacks, the authorities are taking no chances: Every event involving an assembly of Jews is given protection. The main road leading to the cemetery was closed to traffic and the police ordered cars to use other routes.
It's clear that Elkeslassi has not yet recovered from the trauma of the club's destruction. Since taking over as director, he had rarely missed an evening of work. On the Friday of the explosion he was abroad. When he returned the next day, he discovered that the building, which had been his whole life, was razed to the ground. "I have to admit that if the suicide bombers had chosen a different day, hundreds of people would have been killed," he said as he marched in the funeral procession. "I don't want to think about it, but if it had happened, God forbid, we would not be here today. Not one Jew would be left in Morocco," he said in a whisper.
The timing of the attack led the authorities to conclude that foreigners were behind it. "Local people would have known that the Jewish club is closed on Friday night," Berdugo explained. That conclusion went some way toward dissipating the fear that had spread through the community and allowed them to take comfort in the illusion, which was quite temporary, that Moroccans were not involved in planning the horrific action. In their distress, they have insisted on continuing to cultivate coexistence, even when the reality all around threatened to undermine their sense of tranquility.
The tiny Jewish community that still exists in Morocco is the last slice of life of a riveting historical saga that began when Jews reached Morocco in search of a haven from the ravages of the Spanish Inquisition. At its height, the community numbered 600,000 Jews, who lived across the country in natural partnership with their Arab neighbors. Their civil status was inferior to that of the Muslims, because they were considered dhimmi - members of a non-Muslim religious community in a Muslim state granted protection and certain rights by the ruler. The Jews benefited from the arrival of the French in Morocco, in 1912, as they were able to internalize the values that the Western occupiers brought with them. Within a few decades the Jews rose to a high level on the professional scale, slightly below the French and well above the Muslims.
Then, in the late 1940s, Zionism burst into Morocco like a gale and swept up the Jews in its wake. The majority immigrated to Israel, most of the others to France and Canada. Within less than 40 years the community dwindled to only a few thousand members, the majority living in Casablanca, Morocco's economic capital.
The Jewish-Muslim connection
The worshipers who had just emerged from King David Synagogue tarried a bit by the entrance. They spoke in whispers so the Muslim guards wouldn't be able to hear them. It was always like that. Whenever the Jews talked about their Jewishness or about Israel, they made sure to distance themselves from alien ears. One of the worshipers said that what happened on May 16 is a breaking point in the history of the Jews in Morocco. The worshipers around silenced him. "It wasn't done against us," Eli Cohen said. "The regime was the target. And besides, May 16 has already passed and it's not worth talking about."
His brother, Dr. Isaac Cohen, a highly esteemed physician among the Jews and Muslims in the city and beyond, nodded his head in assent. To be on the safe side, he looked carefully around to make sure that no outside eyes were spying on the crowd.
Michel Terdjman took umbrage at the two brothers. "It's not right to describe the events like that," he burst out. "We were all seized by panic and were afraid that the Jews were going to be killed. Don't you remember? If the king, may God protect him, hadn't reassured us, we would not be standing here now."
Indeed, King Mohammed VI played a key role in allaying the fears of the Jewish community. This introverted man, who succeeded his father, King Hassan II, in July 1999, had seemed to the outside world like an apple that fell far from the tree. His refined character and soft speech are the complete opposite of his father's toughness.
When he succeeded to the throne, Western intelligence agencies outdid one another in forecasting his rapid overthrow. Most of them gave him less than a year, the optimists talked about two years. All of them believed that the army or the Islamists would be his undoing. Four years later, the intelligence agencies have once again proved that they are poor prophets. Not only has the king stayed on the throne, he has also fomented a quiet revolution centered on promoting civil society in a country in which the tone is set by the army and the security services.
On the day after the attacks in Casablanca, the king canceled his regular daily schedule and visited the city to inspect the damage. Of the five targets that were chosen, two belonged to the Jewish community: the club and the old Jewish cemetery. The other targets, a luxury hotel and two restaurants, were magnets for affluent tourists.
Escorted by a large entourage, the king entered the site of the devastated Jewish club. For some time he wandered around the ruins, barely able to conceal his emotions. The only object in the club that had escaped unscathed was his photograph, which had a few bloodstains on it. Deeply moved, the king stared at the photograph, as though in disbelief. He promised the heads of the community that he would lend his patronage to the reopening of the club and that the state would assist in the rebuilding costs.
The Jews were utterly thrilled. "I will never forget that visit," said Michel Terdjman. "I saw it as a guarantee that the king gave the Jews. Our feeling is that he was as deeply affronted as we were by what they tried to do to the Jews."
"Now we are calm," Eli Cohen interjected, "because we know that the terrorists did not want to hurt the Jews. They wanted to strike at the regime and by chance they attacked Jewish institutions. If there was suspicion to the contrary, we would see Jews leaving the country. But thank God, no one has left and nothing has changed. We are calm."
Terdjman: "The attacks released something good within me, because they strengthened our status as Jews instead of weakening it. Once we were afraid to emphasize our Jewish identity and we would go to synagogue at quiet times of the day in order not to attract attention. Since the attacks you could say that we have come out of the closet. Because the king came to us and accorded us a status of citizens he cares about."
Photographs of the king visiting the ruins of the Jewish club appeared on the front pages of every paper in the country. The special statement he issued in the wake of the attack on the Jews was also disseminated by all the country's media outlets. "Morocco will always remain open to other cultures and will always promote understanding and tolerance among the people of this nation," the royal statement said.
As though this wasn't enough, 10 days after the attacks, a huge march was held in which Jews and Muslims walked hand in hand, in a spectacle the likes of which Casablanca had never seen. "No to hatred, no to terrorism," the posters at the march declared. Muslims held huge banners that read, "Jews and Muslims! We are all citizens! We are all Moroccans!"
The Israeli connection
Nevertheless, something had changed in the weave of relations between Jews and Arabs in Morocco. Like other Jewish communities around the world, the Jewish community of Morocco felt in its own flesh the effects of the lethal confrontation between Israel and the Palestinians. The Moroccans saw the images on television and expressed their anger in mass demonstrations held in the capital, Rabat. The Jews found themselves in an awkward situation. On the one hand, they secretly identified with Israel's struggle, but at the same time, they didn't want to play up their attitude in the light of the anti-Israeli atmosphere that gripped the Moroccan public.
Khalil Hashimi Idrissi relates that he is compelled to devote a large amount of space in the paper he heads, Aujourd'hui, le Maroc (Today, Morocco), to the Palestinian issue. "As in every Arab country, the Palestinian question is at the center of our lives," he said in his spacious office, which is located in the center of Casablanca. "The Moroccans feel solidarity with the Palestinian struggle and want the country's authorities to do something."
The headlines of the papers here are routinely devoted to events in the territories. There is hardly a newscast on radio or television that does not open with this subject. "Your conflict has reached such cruel proportions that we feel that our stories and articles have become banal," Idrissi added. "You have reached such a level of cruelty in mutual killing that we no longer see any hope. Like everyone, we, too, held out hopes for the road map, and the king even promised to restore relations with Israel, but nothing happened. On the day you tried to assassinate [Hamas spiritual leader] Sheikh Yassin and to expel Yasser Arafat, I understood that something has gone seriously awry in the approach of the Israeli leaders."
The events in the territories leave a daily imprint on the life of the Jews in Morocco. A few days after Foreign Minister Silvan Shalom was received by King Mohammed VI, Israel tried to assassinate Sheikh Yassin. The press attacked the action and the opposition parties attacked - albeit in moderate tones - the logic of inviting the Israeli foreign minister to visit at such a problematic time.
The funeral of Yaakov Azran in Casablanca took place two days after the attack on Sheikh Yassin and a group of Hamas leaders. One of the marchers in the cortege took solace in the fact that the assassination did not succeed. "Do you think we would be marching like this if Sheikh Yassin had been killed?" he said. "Do you imagine that hundreds of Jews would be at the funeral? Absolutely not. It's possible that mass demonstrations would have been held on the main streets of Casablanca." Elkeslassi, the director of the Jewish club, nodded his head in agreement.
Another participant in the funeral, who also asked not to be identified by name, said it wouldn't hurt if Israel showed consideration for the Jews living outside the country before carrying out its actions. Others told him to be quiet. "What are you talking about?" someone else said. "That's the way to deal with the Arabs. Force is the only thing they understand, and it's a pity they didn't get Sheikh Yassin. What, is it different here? Don't our security services liquidate the Muslim terrorists? The only way to stop them from raising their head is to make them afraid."
As they argued about the Arab character, an elderly man joined the group and signaled that he wanted to say something. The others fell silent. "It's true that force is what the Arabs understand, but they are very sensitive to their honor," he said in a slightly quavering voice. "You can use force against them on condition you do not impugn their honor. But you Israelis don't miss a chance to impugn their honor."
As we left the cemetery, police stopped the traffic so that the luxurious cars of the Jews could turn onto the road. Some of the men quickly removed their skullcaps and stuffed them into their pockets. They may have felt that in the atmosphere that has taken hold in the country lately, it's best not to flaunt their Jewishness.
