Feature published in issue 816 of TelQuel, from June 15 to 21, 2018
« Are there people from Casa here? [cheers from the crowd] See, people from Casa are always like that. They yell, but they don’t know why. They send you energy, and then they think about it. While people from Rabat are there, but they don’t dare.” Gad Elmaleh continued his sketch at the 2017 Marrakech du Rire with a series of caricatures on Casablanca’s traffic and the politeness of people from Rabat. The audience roared with laughter. Also amused were several contributors to this feature—artists, sociologists, urban planners—interviewed by TelQuel on the differences between people from Rabat and Casablanca. “You’re trying to get me in trouble,” laughs Mehdi Qotbi, born in Rabat and a Casablanca resident by adoption.
For others, it’s a waste of time, a pointless question. “Morocco has far bigger challenges today than to waste time on such nonsense,” says Moncef Belkhayat, in Casablanca for business and in Rabat for politics as a member of the RNI. Yet, he is part of a ruling caste that has long moved beyond the historical clichés about Casablanca—the capital holding the financial muscle—and Rabat, the seat of administrative power, with the two cities staring each other down warily in the background.
Joining Moncef are even more striking examples, such as Aziz Akhannouch, Saham’s head and Minister of Industry, Moulay Hafid Elalamy, and the former Minister of Tourism and businessman Mohamed Sajid. Whether born in Casablanca or adopted by it, they all operate within Rabat’s centers of power under the convenient banners of the RNI or UC. In short, the divide between Casablanca and Rabat is useful only for Gad Elmaleh’s easy punchlines and for street-level jokes. While we laugh at each other, businessmen, and political and administrative elites are now reaching out to each other.
Power Intentions
“Decision-makers from Rabat and Casablanca often have shared interests, tangibly intertwining the worlds of finance and policy-making”
“Things have changed, even if a pride unique to Rabat still matches that displayed by Casablanca’s elite. Strong, common ties have formed between the elites of both cities. Proof of this is in the invitations that circulate. For example, at a Ramadan ftour, you’ll find Rabati decision-makers and their Casablanca counterparts gathered in the same home—a rarity in the past. They often share common interests, tangibly blending the worlds of finance and decision-making,” explains Nabil Benabdallah, former PPS Minister of Spatial Planning. Through this new mixing of circles lies a genuine intent to establish a foothold of influence within the administrative capital—and vice versa.
“Economic decision-makers became involved in politics to defend their interests, fearing they would fall victim to the predation of politico-economic actors.”
“Economic decision-makers became involved in politics to defend their interests, fearing they would fall victim to the predation of politico-economic actors. Most of them engage in politics reluctantly. In truth, they could have expanded in Africa normally, but they fear for their core business if they don’t keep a foothold within the Makhzen,” says Omar Balafrej, FGD deputy from Rabat, in no uncertain terms.
A pragmatic, even opportunistic strategy in public affairs by Casablanca businessmen or those who have adopted the city, less publicized than Akhannouch and his peers. Yet, while Rabat remains the decision-making epicenter, Casablanca also drives a movement of elites, fueled by its financial and entrepreneurial dynamism.
Casablanca: the Rabati Eldorado
The historical paths of the two poles of what is known as the “useful Morocco” (Le Maroc utile, editor’s note) have long diverged. Casablanca was known for maintaining a certain distance from central power, proud of its reputation as a city of freedom. “From Fez, Marrakech, people came toward the Casablanca Eldorado on donkeys, hoping to make a fortune. Even today, everyone here comes from somewhere, but everyone considers themselves Casablancais,” explains architect Rachid Andaloussi.
A true Casablanca melting pot, historically lacking Rabatis. But not anymore. “I have friends who are the children of high-ranking officials in Rabat, now executives for multinationals in Casablanca. They commute to work in the economic capital, not following in their parents’ footsteps,” says a thirty-something with a prestigious surname, the “Alaoui” title at its head. She implies that these descendants have broken the social determinism that once ensured succession among the state’s top officials. They follow in the footsteps of Rabati financiers who, sensing the rise of finance, commuted to the headquarters of banks on Hassan II Avenue in Casablanca in the 1990s, looking with wry amusement at the train of Casablanca residents making the reverse trip to work in Rabat’s administration.
“The vast majority of these Rabati professionals working in Casablanca come from a generation born after 1975. We met at Bouznika Bay, built by Driss Basri’s son in the early 2000s. Until then, Rabatis frequented Skhirat, while Casablancais rarely ventured beyond Dahomey beach. Otherwise, we’d see each other in the summer up north, at Cabo, Kabila, and Marina, where we’d make peace at the water,” explains a Casablanca native from Anfa Supérieur, Casablanca’s equivalent to Rabat’s Route des Zaërs.
Moroccan west coast
This tandem, envisioned by Resident General Lyautey, comprising an economic pole and a political pole, is not uniquely Moroccan. Many compare it, for example, to the duality of New York and Washington, which are also relatively close in American terms. Wall Street in Sidi Maârouf, Capitol Hill in Mechouar.
“Rabat is a networking platform for the children of many Casablancais and a foothold for those looking to engage in lobbying.”
And one more commonality: lobbying. “Anfa is the most expensive neighborhood in Morocco, but Rabat is the most expensive city in the kingdom. These real estate prices are due to many Casablancais buying apartments in the capital. It’s a networking platform for their children and a foothold for those wanting to engage in lobbying. Even if a company’s headquarters is in New York, it also needs a presence in Washington to be relevant. The same goes for Casablanca and Rabat,” notes sociologist Mehdi Alioua.
With the natural flow of encounters among elites, people no longer marry “within their own” in Rabat or Casa, but now “among ourselves” across both centers of power. Nabil Benabdallah, who defines himself as Rabati to the core, met and married a member of a prominent Casablanca family.
“It’s a microcosm that includes the American School of Casablanca, the French mission through Lycée Lyautey in the White City, and Lycée Descartes in Rabat.”
If the two poles manage to attract, love, and marry each other, it’s a result of that old class trope. “It’s a sociological law, with no Moroccan exception. The elite mingle with the elite, the elite marry the elite. The elite do business with the elite. The son of a CEO of a major bank isn’t going to marry a semi-literate girl. There are networks, relationships; we interact among ourselves, and the children socialize among themselves. It’s a microcosm that includes the American School of Casablanca, the French mission through Lycée Lyautey in Casablanca, and Lycée Descartes in Rabat. In short, there’s no love at first sight, except among one’s own,” says political scientist Mustapha Sehimi.
And through marriage, the two elites effectively become one—despite some initial, superficial hesitations. “When I introduced my fiancé Karim to my circle of friends, there was a chill. He didn’t say a word and could feel the whispers. They criticized everything about him—his background, his choice of ring (too flashy, they thought), his way of speaking, dressing, being… I remember he left that evening quickly,” recalls Soukaina, a Rabati from the Souissi district. But once the wedding was over, all was forgotten—the groom was wealthy, and the bride well-connected.
The impenetrable sanctuary
“When I was young, the chicest car you’d see on the streets of Rabat was the DS. You definitely didn’t want to show you had money; otherwise, it meant you had stolen from the state since everyone was a civil servant. More than the body or brand, people looked at the license plate to see if there was a red ‘M,’ indicating it was a government car,” explains a journalist who proudly describes himself as part of the “cash-poor but cultured Rabati bourgeoisie.”
“In Rabat, you can still drive a Logan and yet hold a high position, be socially prominent.”
Memories of a nomenklatura that didn’t flaunt its influence over the course of the country, from the average civil servant to the upper ranks—a culture of discretion that persists. Sociologist Mehdi Alioua notes that “in Rabat, you can still drive a Logan and hold a high position, be socially prominent. There will always be suspicion toward a Rabati in a Maserati; people suspect he paid for it through corruption.”
This restraint isn’t a deliberate refusal to display wealth but rather the result of an upbringing in the world of real decision-making—the decisions that ensure the continuity of the state, come rain or shine, whether Islamists lead the Executive or not. “High-ranking state officials are raised with a sense of duty to remain reserved. They don’t appear publicly anywhere, unlike Casablanca’s economic players, ministers, and political leaders who constantly need to show who they are. The latter are photographed at events, such as an art exhibition hosted by a bank’s foundation. These photos are published in the business press or the society pages of women’s magazines. The others? Never in a million years. And when they go to Casablanca, it’s only for a work meeting,” shares a former minister from El Othmani’s government.
Most are tucked away in the Pinède neighborhood, guarded by the first wall of defense that is Route des Zaërs, available 24/7 for a call from above. Unlike the customs of Casablanca’s elite and far from any ostentation, Rabati decorum is deeply rooted in public service.
A mindset and profile
“You Casablancais misuse the term Makhzani. You throw it around carelessly. Here in Rabat, it retains its true meaning,” remarks a source with both disillusionment and disdain, whose lineage boasts a long history with the Makhzen—listed in Mouna Hachim’s Dictionary of Family Names, the Who’s Who of the hereditarily influential.
Another source describes it as an expression of real power, always tied to the inner circle: “A son of Touarga, the historical neighborhood of the Palace’s servants, would be considered more important than a wealthy Fassi, simply because he was closer to the Palace.” Meanwhile, with the new millennium, this old feudal garment has simply been replaced by the more modern suit of technocracy. “Being Rabati isn’t just an origin; it’s a mindset acquired by anyone entering high public office,” explains a connoisseur of the enduring inner workings of power. A Rabati mindset, a prerequisite for exercising power, coupled with a profile tailored for public service.
“What’s crucial is that there is a network of about thirty key public decision-makers beyond the ministers. This includes the Caisse de dépôt et de gestion (CDG), the Caisse centrale de garantie (CCG), the tax administration, the Treasury department, the Office des changes, and roles within the Ministry of Equipment and Finance, such as the land management office—a highly sensitive position given its link to the kingdom’s land assets. They all hold substantial decision-making power that provides coherence to state policy beyond government administrations,” analyzes political scientist Mustapha Sehimi. According to him, these individuals are selected by internal state lobbies that function as much for the state’s interests as they do for patronage; they are competent but must be endorsed. All must adhere to the rules of the game and the formal requirements, following what Sehimi calls an “informal code of conduct.” They ensure that, despite the vagaries of time and political shifts, everything changes so that nothing really changes.
Luxury: patina vs. bling-bling
When it comes to luxury, the divide remains pronounced between Rabatis, who come from a cultured, introverted bourgeoisie, and Casablancais, who lean more toward showing off, where financial success is meant to be visible. “In Rabat, there’s an important concept of heritage. People acquire beautiful things that increase in value; they don’t pay the price for fashion,” explains Sophie de Puyraimond, head of the Roche Bobois brand in Morocco. Conversely, Casablancais seek brand recognition; many have gained wealth through the stock market or real estate and are status-seekers in luxury marketing. They buy brands primarily to affirm their social status. “They change their living room furniture more frequently, always looking for the latest model,” notes Sophie de Puyraimond.
“In terms of jewelry, Rabati women tend to choose pieces that are understated, elegant, and classic, reserved for special occasions. Casablanca women are bolder, opting for originality with pieces they can wear daily,” says jeweler Ikram Sekkat. “Our Rabati clients have their inherited jewelry transformed to pass it on to their daughters or granddaughters. They go to their jeweler as they would a notary, with a relationship built on trust,” concludes Sophie de Puyraimond, whose husband creates unique jewelry and objects for the capital’s establishment.
Mustapha Sehimi: “The Business World Has Transcended the Divisions Between Morocco’s Two Capitals”
Political scientist Mustapha Sehimi analyzes how the gap between economic and political power has been bridged. Interview.
How has the divide between the Casablanca economic elite and the Rabat administrative and political elite lessened?
“The division between the Casablanca and Rabat elites has been lessened by the gradual decrease in the number of Fassis in various governments.”
The division between the Casablanca and Rabat elites has been softened by the gradual reduction in the number of Fassis in various governments. At the same time, we’ve seen an increase in the representation of elites of Berber origin. There were seven ministers of Amazigh origin in the first El Othmani government, whereas there were only one or two in the 1960s.
Differentiated processes for elite selection have replaced the traditional Fassi/non-Fassi and Casablanca vs. Rabat divides. As a result, we now have a complex production of elites emerging from multiple intersecting networks: alliances, co-optation, family ties, and shared interests. The business world has transcended the objective divides that once existed between Morocco’s two capitals, whether for cultural, sociological, or other reasons.
Is it a consolidation of power, then?
Yes. Economic power has never been far from political power. Take the example of Karim Lamrani, who led several governments. His status came from being close to Hassan II, but also because he was a significant representative of Moroccan private capital. For this reason, Hassan II appointed him as Prime Minister, as he reassured the national bourgeoisie—he was one of them. This is even more true today: strictly political factors have been minimized in favor of economic ones. Aziz Akhannouch is not a political figure, nor are Moulay Hafid Elalamy or Mohamed Sajid.
Beyond these three figures, what interests do other businessmen have in getting involved in politics or at least in having connections in the political world?
« Within the parliament, there are multiple lobbies at work: those of industry, agribusiness, pharmaceutical companies, textiles, etc. »
Social elites have always been very critical of political elites, whom they view as a group of thieves and corrupt individuals. When a businessman runs for office, it’s primarily to lobby, not to engage politically. Otherwise, the business community, even without needing a presence in parliament, still has channels to defend its interests, particularly during the vote on the Finance Law. In parliament, multiple lobbies operate: those of industry, agribusiness, pharmaceuticals, textiles, and more. And let me remind you that the CGEM (General Confederation of Moroccan Enterprises) has eight deputies in the second chamber. These businessmen and deputies aren’t pure Rabatis or Casablancais, but they meet in Rabat in specific centers of power. This leads to a geographical convergence.
Written in French by Hassan Hamdani and Thomas Savage, edited in English by Eric Nielson
Archive: Feature originally published in issue 816 of TelQuel on June 14, 2018
