The culture of despair : youth, unemployment and educational failures in North Africa

Abstract

I was born in south-eastern Morocco in an oasis at the foot of the Anti-Atlas Mountains. My parents are illiterate and my oldest brother was one of the first villagers to attend a secular public school not only in my extended family but also in the whole province of Tata. My father is from a low social group locally known as the Haratine. Unlike the maraboutic families (shorfa), the Haratine do not claim descent from the Prophet Mohammed’s family lineage. Their inferior status limits their social mobility and economic improvement. Until Independence, the Haratine were farmers working as day-labourers mainly in lands owned by the shorfa. A few owned property, which made them largely servants in the traditional subsistence oases agriculture. After Independence, the Haratine and their descendents began to challenge not only the inherited religious status and authority of the shorfa but also their economic position by sending their children to modern schools. By attending these new schools my brother was able to break away from the social hierarchies imposed over the years on my father and other Haratine. As a teacher with an independent income, he was able to sever any future ties of dependency on the political and economic system based on the charismatic authority of the shorfa. Education was not a priority in a context where people struggled to fulfil basic economic needs. Many families made hard decisions to send one child to school while committing others to contribute to the daily farming activities. Others were content with giving their children basic Qur’anic schooling. Qur’anic education was an important stage of child education. Children were sent at an early age to the msid (Qur’anic school) to ensure that they could read and write and respect their elders and the traditional moral strictures of society. Education was closely linked to the local mosque and local imams (religious leaders) supported by the community tutored children. Successful children who were good at rote memorization and who were able to learn the Qur’an by heart could pursue their education to become imams or judges. Until recently, girls were never included in families’ educational plans. I came of age at a time when the post-independence government made drastic changes resulting in universal primary and secondary education in urban and rural areas. I benefited from these educational legislative changes and was able to get my high school diploma without dropping out like many have done. Twenty years ago, my eldest brother, then a high school teacher, strongly advised me to pursue an undergraduate degree in English Language and Literature at Cadi Ayyad University in Marrakesh, Morocco. I did it with hesitation. I thought at the time that my chance of a secure and guaranteed government job was stronger if I continued my education in geography and sought employment as a secondary teacher in the educational public system. Today, as I reflect on the social and economic situation in Morocco, I strongly believe that my brother’s paternalistic orientation proved to be central in my educational trajectory to my present position as an assistant professor of Near Eastern and Religious Studies at the University of Arizona. By the end of the 1980s my brother knew that the Moroccan government could not sustain the employment of a bulging wave of graduates at the rate it did in the 1960s and 1970s. Therefore he advised, if not coerced, me to learn a foreign language that would prepare me at least to get a job in the sector of tourism in case I could not secure one in teaching. His recommendation was key to my educational and professional career. I was able to finish my graduate schooling in humanities and social sciences and went on to earn a degree in anthropology at the University of Arizona becoming one of the few Muslim anthropologists who research and write on ethnic and religious minorities in Middle Eastern and North African societies. My brother’s advice has taught me that getting an education is about learning the skills to promote oneself after graduation. These skills have to fit the market and therefore education is also about making decisions to fit market prospects. In my experience with the educational system throughout North Africa there is a gap and a discrepancy between the educational system, learners’ dreams and the expectation of the market. The challenge of the market and lack of educational guidance are at the root of youth despair today. I was fortunate to escape this trap. However, luck cannot strike at everyone’s door—only a few graduates could make it through the bureaucratic sieve while others were stuck in the net creating a culture of economic despair and socio-political resignation.