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Casablanca's Echo: Roosevelt's New Deal Lessons for an Africa Confronting Climate Change, AI, and Migration Barriers

Casablanca's Echo: Roosevelt's New Deal Lessons for an Africa Confronting Climate Change, AI, and Migration Barriers

Morocco World3 days ago
In January 1943, at the height of World War II, President Franklin D. Roosevelt traveled to Casablanca, [French] Morocco, where he convened with British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, French generals Charles de Gaulle and Henri Giraud, and Sultan Mohammed V, while Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin contributed from a distance. The Casablanca Conference not only charted the Allied course to victory but also articulated a vision for a postwar world rooted in peace, cooperation, and prosperity. Roosevelt's presence on African soil—engaged in high-stakes diplomacy over freedom, development, and strategic partnership—was more than symbolic. It signaled a moment of global reckoning and possibility. That moment, born in Casablanca, continues to resonate—not as a relic of history, but as a call to action for a new generation of Africans confronting the pressing challenges of our time.
Last week, I stood in the shadow of Mount Hood, Oregon, and walked the storied halls of Timberline Lodge—a majestic stone-and-wood structure built at the height of the Great Depression under President Franklin D. Roosevelt's Works Progress Administration (WPA). As I watched a documentary recounting its rapid 15-month construction, I listened to Roosevelt's 1937 dedication speech, in which he praised the lodge as 'a monument to the skill and faithful performance of workers on the rolls of the WPA.' It was more than a building; it was a symbol of national renewal. Timberline was born of a radical ethos: offer not just jobs, but dignity, skills, and wages—and in doing so, rebuild the country from the ground up.
Roosevelt envisioned Timberline as a test: could government-built and -operated recreational infrastructure serve both economic recovery and public well-being? The answer, resoundingly, was yes. Today, Timberline Lodge welcomes nearly two million visitors annually, a cultural landmark and economic engine for the region. It stands as proof of what public work can achieve: it not only employs, it educates; it not only pays wages, it fosters citizenship, trust, and craftsmanship. The WPA's mission went beyond short-term relief—it was about investing in the future by restoring human potential.
As I stood in Timberline's great hall—crafted by once-unemployed stonemasons, carpenters, weavers, and laborers—I felt something deeper. It wasn't nostalgia; it was recognition. I saw in that structure a roadmap for the future. For nearly a century later, nations like Morocco and many across Africa now face their own crisis of joblessness, particularly among the youth, and the same urgent question looms: How do we restore hope and opportunity at scale?
Just as Timberline rose from the ashes of economic despair, Africa today stands at a similar crossroads. With 70% of its population under the age of 30, the continent holds the world's youngest demographic. This could become a demographic dividend—or a ticking time bomb. Without bold public investment in employment, training, and infrastructure, the chasm between aspiration and opportunity will only widen.
At the same time, a convergence of disruptive forces is eroding traditional pathways to prosperity across Africa. Chief among them is artificial intelligence (AI), which is rapidly transforming labor markets by automating tasks once performed by humans—ranging from clerical and manufacturing roles to customer service, logistics, and even parts of creative and analytical work. These sectors had long been seen as accessible entry points for emerging economies aiming to industrialize and absorb surplus labor. Now, many of those opportunities risk vanishing before they fully materialize.
AI is not merely a disruptive innovation—it is a general-purpose, potentially transformative technology capable of boosting productivity and generating global economic gains. Yet, as with past technological revolutions, its benefits are unlikely to be equitably shared. AI threatens to deepen disparities between individuals, firms, and regions—widening socio-economic divides both within and between nations.
For African countries, the implications are particularly severe. AI undermines traditional comparative advantages such as low-cost labor, potentially displacing African economies from labor-intensive segments of global value chains. This technological displacement could degrade terms of trade, stall industrial policy goals, and reverse progress in closing the gap with high-income countries. Without deliberate strategies for inclusive technological adoption, AI risks becoming not a bridge to catch up, but a wall that entrenches global hierarchies. The urgent task for African states is to shape AI deployment in ways that serve local development priorities, economic sovereignty, and equitable growth.
Meanwhile, migration—once a vital outlet for Africa's job-seeking youth—is becoming increasingly constrained. Former destinations such as Europe, North America, and the Gulf are tightening borders under the weight of rising nationalism, economic stress, and geopolitical uncertainty. Migration pathways are no longer simply difficult; they are now more enclosed, securitized, and politicized than ever.
Climate change represents another compounding crisis. From prolonged droughts and desertification to erratic rainfall and rising sea levels, climate disruption is displacing millions, undermining food systems, and destabilizing livelihoods—particularly in agriculture, still the continent's largest employer. As crops fail, livestock die, and rural incomes collapse, young people are pushed toward overcrowded cities in search of jobs that don't exist. Climate-induced displacement and unemployment now pose existential threats, making the creation of climate-resilient employment and infrastructure a critical priority.
Any sustainable employment strategy must therefore integrate climate adaptation—through investments in reforestation, sustainable agriculture, water management, and renewable energy. These are not only environmental imperatives but also potential sources of dignified, future-oriented work.
The hard truth is that Africa cannot migrate its way out of this triple crisis. The solutions must come from within. But this inward turn must not be isolationist—it must be imaginative. Africa must draw on its own creativity, talent, and cultural capital to build inclusive rural and urban economies that serve the many, not the few. This is not a retreat—it is a reawakening.
A New Deal for African youth, inspired by Roosevelt's WPA, offers a powerful model. It is not only about jobs; it is about giving young people a meaningful stake in their countries' futures—a reason to stay, a path to belong, and a belief that the future can be built from within.
In 1937, in the cold Oregon air, Roosevelt captured that spirit when he declared that Timberline Lodge represented not only economic recovery, but hope—'a place for generations of Americans to come.' Africa, too, must build such places—not just of stone and timber, but of purpose, belonging, and transformation. The WPA shows us what's possible. The question now is: will we rise to meet this moment?
The Works Progress Administration (WPA), created in 1935 as part of Roosevelt's New Deal, was one of the most ambitious and transformative public employment programs in American history. At its core, the WPA sought to address the devastating effects of the Great Depression by putting millions of Americans to work. But its legacy reaches far beyond temporary relief. The WPA fundamentally reshaped the landscape of American infrastructure, arts, education, public health, and civic life.
Over its eight years of operation (1935-1943), the WPA employed more than 8.5 million people—men and women, skilled and unskilled—on a vast array of public works projects. These included the construction and repair of over 650,000 miles (1,046,073.6 kilometers) of roads and 78,000 bridges, the building of more than 125,000 schools, hospitals, libraries, and courthouses, and the improvement of water and sewer systems in urban and rural areas alike. WPA workers built airports, planted trees, drained swamps, and installed hundreds of thousands of sanitary toilets in homes lacking plumbing. These projects not only improved public health and connectivity, but also laid the groundwork for America's mid-century economic expansion.
Importantly, the WPA also recognized the value of cultural and intellectual labor. Through its Federal One programs—the Federal Art Project, the Federal Writers' Project, the Federal Theater Project, and the Federal Music Project—the WPA employed thousands of artists, playwrights, musicians, and historians. They created murals, staged plays, recorded oral histories, and provided music education and public concerts. These initiatives democratized access to the arts, preserved cultural heritage, and nurtured future luminaries like Orson Welles, Saul Bellow, and Zora Neale Hurston.
At the administrative level, the WPA was guided by a philosophy of labor-intensive, community-based development. It required that 90% of project budgets go to labor rather than materials, ensuring that funds flowed directly to households in need. Projects had to be useful to communities and sponsored by local governments, which kept them grounded in real, localized needs. In short, the WPA offered not just jobs, but purpose, pride, and skill-building.
It also restored something intangible but vital: dignity. For many, receiving a paycheck earned through hard work—as a road builder, an artist, a teacher, or a nurse—meant far more than subsistence. It meant being recognized as a contributing citizen. The psychological and social effects of dignified work cannot be overstated, especially in times of widespread economic uncertainty. Dignity is not a luxury; it is the foundation of resilience, self-worth, and civic trust. When people are given meaningful work and the opportunity to learn, they recover not just income, but identity.
Fast forward to the present: Morocco's youth face a very different landscape, but with strikingly similar structural challenges. Today, approximately 28% of Moroccan youth (15–24 years old) are classified as NEET—Not in Employment, Education, or Training. That's about 2 million young people frozen out of opportunity. The labor market cannot absorb the 390,000 new entrants each year. Barely a third find work in the formal or informal economy. And while higher education helps, it's not enough—especially for women, who represent 77% of all NEET youth. For young Moroccan women aged 23–24, the NEET rate reaches 70%, while only 20% are working. Educational attainment improves prospects somewhat, but social norms, marital status, and location (especially in rural areas) compound the disadvantages for young women.
Even worse, the NEET condition tends to persist. Nearly 38% of those who were NEET in 2010 remained NEET in 2018, and 54% of women in that group never transitioned to work or education. This reflects a deep loss of human capital and a cycle of exclusion that current labor strategies have failed to break.
Here is where the WPA model offers urgently needed insights: Labor-Intensive Public Works: African governments must lead large-scale programs that create immediate employment while addressing urgent infrastructure needs—roads, irrigation systems, sanitation, schools, and green energy. These projects can absorb large numbers of workers quickly and lay the foundation for long-term economic growth and resilience.
African governments must lead large-scale programs that create immediate employment while addressing urgent infrastructure needs—roads, irrigation systems, sanitation, schools, and green energy. These projects can absorb large numbers of workers quickly and lay the foundation for long-term economic growth and resilience. Skills Development with Dignity: WPA workers weren't merely laborers; they became craftspeople. Training was central. Today's programs must embed vocational education, digital literacy, and apprenticeships to prepare youth for both traditional sectors and emerging industries. At the heart of this effort is a recognition that all forms of labor—physical, artistic, or intellectual—deserve respect. When people learn and earn simultaneously, they don't just gain livelihoods; they reclaim dignity and agency.
WPA workers weren't merely laborers; they became craftspeople. Training was central. Today's programs must embed vocational education, digital literacy, and apprenticeships to prepare youth for both traditional sectors and emerging industries. At the heart of this effort is a recognition that all forms of labor—physical, artistic, or intellectual—deserve respect. When people learn and earn simultaneously, they don't just gain livelihoods; they reclaim dignity and agency. Gender-Inclusive Design: Any meaningful employment strategy must confront structural gender inequality. Public employment programs should provide childcare support, safe transport, and flexible scheduling to enable women's participation—especially in rural areas—while ensuring workplace safety and dignity for all.
Any meaningful employment strategy must confront structural gender inequality. Public employment programs should provide childcare support, safe transport, and flexible scheduling to enable women's participation—especially in rural areas—while ensuring workplace safety and dignity for all. AI for Inclusive Development: Rather than view artificial intelligence solely as a threat, African nations can harness it as a developmental tool. An 'AI-powered WPA' could mobilize local talent to digitize government archives, build and train language models in African languages, modernize agriculture with precision tools, and expand access to education and healthcare through intelligent platforms. Designed with equity and sustainability in mind, such initiatives can create skilled jobs, enhance public services, and turn AI into a force for socioeconomic convergence—not further exclusion.
Rather than view artificial intelligence solely as a threat, African nations can harness it as a developmental tool. An 'AI-powered WPA' could mobilize local talent to digitize government archives, build and train language models in African languages, modernize agriculture with precision tools, and expand access to education and healthcare through intelligent platforms. Designed with equity and sustainability in mind, such initiatives can create skilled jobs, enhance public services, and turn into a force for socioeconomic convergence—not further exclusion. Cultural and Intellectual Employment: Africa's artists, storytellers, musicians, and historians are vital to national memory and identity. A contemporary version of the WPA's 'Federal One' could fund oral history projects, local archives, cultural festivals, and public art initiatives—preserving heritage while creating creative livelihoods.
Africa's artists, storytellers, musicians, and historians are vital to national memory and identity. A contemporary version of the WPA's 'Federal One' could fund oral history projects, local archives, cultural festivals, and public art initiatives—preserving heritage while creating creative livelihoods. Leverage Regional Strategies: Morocco's Royal Atlantic Initiative offers a powerful model for transnational public investment. By linking Morocco with West African nations through integrated infrastructure—ports, logistics corridors, digital networks, and renewable energy—the initiative lays the foundation for a regional employment and training ecosystem. Embedded within a WPA-style public works framework, this strategy could generate millions of jobs and foster a shared sense of agency and belonging across borders.
Morocco's Royal Atlantic Initiative offers a powerful model for transnational public investment. By linking Morocco with West African nations through integrated infrastructure—ports, logistics corridors, digital networks, and renewable energy—the initiative lays the foundation for a regional employment and training ecosystem. Embedded within a WPA-style public works framework, this strategy could generate millions of jobs and foster a shared sense of agency and belonging across borders. Multi-Level Partnerships and Continental Vision: Just as the WPA worked with state and local governments, African states must collaborate with private investors, development banks, and regional bodies such as the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA). These partnerships can scale public employment programs while aligning them with broader continental priorities.
The Timberline Lodge stands today not just as a beautiful ski resort on Mount Hood, but as a living testament to what happens when governments bet on their people. Surrounded by hiking trails carved through alpine forests—trails that themselves were part of WPA-era efforts to open public lands—the lodge remains a symbol of inclusive infrastructure and civic imagination. In Morocco, in Uganda, in Kenya, in Senegal, in Egypt—in every nation grappling with the pressures of joblessness and social tensions—there is room for WPA-style thinking. Not because we wish to relive the 1930s, but because we have inherited its wisdom.
We need an African WPA for the 21st century. Not just to build bridges and lodges, but to bridge the gaps between generations, between despair and hope, between stagnation and shared prosperity. The stakes are too high to settle for less. Roosevelt's echoes still call to us—will we listen?
In 1943, standing in Casablanca, President Roosevelt declared a bold wartime declaration: 'unconditional surrender' to the forces of fascism. Today, we confront a different but no less urgent struggle—not against armies, but against climate collapse, deepening poverty, mass unemployment, exclusion, and the widening divide wrought by artificial intelligence.
These are not battles waged with weapons, but with vision, policy, and moral resolve. They demand the same clarity of purpose Roosevelt summoned during wartime—and the same enduring faith he placed in public action through the Works Progress Administration. The WPA was more than a jobs program; it embodied a foundational belief that government could be a generative force for dignity, equity, and renewal. It recognized that meaningful work—rooted in communities and broadly shared—could do more than alleviate economic despair; it could restore hope, rebuild trust, and help nations imagine a future worth striving for.
Let us meet this moment in that same spirit—not with retreat, but with imagination, investment, and collective courage. Let 'unconditional surrender' become more than a relic of military history—let it be reclaimed as a developmental credo for an Africa that believes in itself and dares to build a just, inclusive, and sustainable future. Tags: AfricaAIartificial intelligenceclimate change
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Secret French Intelligence Documents Reveal Morocco's Crucial Support for Algerian Independence
Secret French Intelligence Documents Reveal Morocco's Crucial Support for Algerian Independence

Morocco World

time15 hours ago

  • Morocco World

Secret French Intelligence Documents Reveal Morocco's Crucial Support for Algerian Independence

Marrakech – French intelligence documents classified as 'highly confidential' have exposed the full scope of Morocco's pivotal support for Algeria's independence struggle. Recently published by Algerian political analyst Oualid Kebir, these classified documents from July 27, 1959, were sent directly to General Challe's office in Algeria and reveal one of history's most remarkable chapters of cross-border solidarity. The intelligence reports, never intended for public disclosure, meticulously document how Morocco transformed itself into a strategic rear base for the Algerian revolution under King Mohammed V's leadership. Far from merely offering diplomatic rhetoric, Morocco provided comprehensive military, logistical, and humanitarian assistance that fundamentally altered the course of Algeria's battle against French colonization. King Mohammed V approached this support with sophisticated strategic vision, balancing solidarity with sovereignty requirements. According to the French documents, the King's position was guided by three advanced objectives that were formulated according to regional and international circumstances. First, he aimed to establish Moroccan leadership of a 'Maghreb Union' independent from Nasser's Cairo bloc, seeking to cement Morocco's role as a leading power in North Africa. Second, he wanted to maintain the Moroccan monarchy's prestige in the Arab world by providing 'remarkable assistance' to Algerian brothers. Third, he carefully balanced relations with France by maintaining minimum financial and technical cooperation to avoid an open confrontation that might threaten Morocco's recently gained independence. The only way to reconcile these three imperatives, according to the document, was King Mohammed V's vision of positioning himself as a 'mediator' or 'arbitrator' in the Algerian conflict. This allowed him to gain the trust of the Arab world while maintaining ties with the West, creating a complex but politically astute equation. The effectiveness of this approach is vividly confirmed by historical testimony from the late Algerian President Ahmed Ben Bella, who recounted an important meeting with King Mohammed V in Madrid. 'I felt embarrassed to take out my list of requests,' Ben Bella later revealed in an Al Jazeera interview, 'because he had already offered us twice what we were going to ask for.' Support was national: From cabinet rooms to campus protests This royal commitment cascaded throughout the Moroccan government. As cited by the French documents, Abdallah Ibrahim's government provided tangible and effective support to Algerian revolutionaries at all levels. This support wasn't limited to slogans of unity among North African countries but was translated into field decisions. Morocco allowed the establishment of military bases for the National Liberation Army (ALN) on its territory, received Algerian refugees and provided political and humanitarian protection, issued Moroccan passports to members of the Algerian National Liberation Front (FLN), and even used diplomatic pouches to transport sensitive communications and documents. Judicial authorities overlooked certain revolutionary activities within the country, at times secretly releasing detained FLN members to support the cause. Moreover, Nador was converted into a radio communications center serving revolutionary propaganda, while logistical networks facilitated weapons transport, the construction of military bases, training camps, and ammunition depots across the region. All this, as the document indicates, was not subject to internal dispute or government hesitation, but received clear approval from the Moroccan cabinet. This confirms that Morocco officially chose to support the Algerian revolution, even at the risk of straining ties with France. The documents speak of a crucial role played by Moroccan leader Abderrahim Bouabid, who did not hesitate to announce Morocco's full commitment to supporting the FLN during a meeting with Ferhat Abbas. Bouabid clearly expressed Morocco's vision of providing 'comprehensive and complete support,' in a political declaration reflecting the Moroccan state's engagement in the Algerian struggle not as circumstantial solidarity but as a strategic position consistent with the spirit and necessities of the era. The documents also show that Moroccan support wasn't limited to the government but extended to political parties, unions, students, and broad segments of the population. The support extended deep into Moroccan society. Despite its official ban since 1952, the Moroccan Communist Party continued promoting the revolution through propaganda channels. Meanwhile, the Moroccan Workers' Union provided significant material and moral support to its Algerian counterpart (UGTA). The National Union of Moroccan Students played a central role in providing forged cards, postal boxes, and strong propaganda support within Moroccan universities. Southeastern Morocco became a backbone of Algeria's military operations Perhaps most remarkably, the documents reveal the existence of an FLN intelligence network operating within Morocco since October 1958. This mission, which managed documentation centers, surveillance, espionage, and coordination offices, operated with the tacit approval of Moroccan authorities and worked in parallel with Moroccan security agencies, notably cooperating with them on several sensitive files. Led by Lagha Zaoui, this network maintained direct contact with Moroccan intelligence services, collaborating on interrogating Algerian detainees, handling French army deserters, and pursuing agents involved in counter-revolutionary activities. The military dimension of Morocco's support was equally substantial. The country hosted key command structures of the National Liberation Army, including the Western Staff Headquarters in Nador, Region 5 Authority in Oujda, and Zone 8 Command in Figuig. Dozens of logistical bases strategically positioned throughout southeastern Morocco provided critical infrastructure for the revolution. The Boubker-Touissit base served as a major supply hub, while the Figuig-Bouanane base facilitated cross-border operations. These facilities weren't merely staging grounds but comprehensive military installations with dedicated centers for manufacturing mines, storing ammunition, and conducting specialized training for Algerian fighters. Additionally, Morocco established a network of field hospitals, rest centers for exhausted fighters, and even camps for prisoners of war captured during operations against French forces. The documents estimate the number of Algerian fighters in Morocco between 3,000 and 4,000 men, some of whom were preparing to cross the border into Algeria on the eve of Mohammed V's negotiations with President de Gaulle, as an indirect political pressure message. Despite Morocco's exceptional support for the Algerian revolution, the relationship was not without friction. The documents reveal several points of contention, including tensions over the ambitions of certain FLN elements in Moroccan border regions and repeated clashes between French forces and Algerian revolutionaries that originated from Moroccan territory. Moroccan authorities also expressed reservations about the conduct of FLN intelligence operatives operating within the country, alongside suspicions regarding the Front's ambiguous stance during the Rif unrest in Morocco. Furthermore, the failure of FLN representative Kheireddin to fully earn the trust of Moroccan officials further strained relations between the two sides. Morocco bore the political and diplomatic consequences of that deep moral alignment The foundation of solidarity, however, remained unshaken. As Libyan historian Ali Mohammed Al-Sallabi documented, King Mohammed V publicly championed Algeria's cause during a September 1956 speech in Oujda, directly challenging French colonial narratives. When France retaliated by hijacking a plane carrying Algerian revolutionary leaders who were the King's guests, Mohammed V declared to France Tireur newspaper that this act was 'a more dangerous blow to his honor than his dethronement,' considering the leaders were abducted while under his protection. The King's commitment extended to rejecting lucrative French offers. In 1957, he declined a potentially beneficial oil deal in Algeria, considering it an affront to the dignity of the Algerian people who desperately needed support from their neighbors. His practical assistance included placing approximately five hundred Moroccan volunteers from Marrakech at the disposal of the National Liberation Army (ALN) and establishing safe medical facilities for injured Algerian revolutionaries along the border. By 1960, the King's support had only intensified. After receiving complaints from an Algerian governmental delegation during a visit to Marrakech about harassment by French consuls in the border regions, Mohammed V immediately ordered the closure of the consulates in Oujda and Bouarfa. When Ferhat Abbas, head of the Algerian provisional government, subsequently visited Rabat, he declared: 'Algeria is Morocco, and our solidarity is eternal. The Sahara is an issue that concerns Algeria and Morocco alone, and in no way concerns French colonialism – neither directly nor indirectly.' What these French documents unintentionally reveal is that Morocco wasn't merely a host geography for revolutionaries but an actual partner in Algeria's liberation battle. Morocco didn't simply offer sanctuary; it integrated Algeria's liberation struggle into its own national security framework, accepting serious diplomatic risk in the process. From royal palace to government ministries, from student unions to border villages, Morocco transformed itself into an essential component of Algeria's independence movement. These once-classified pages, written in secrecy by French intelligence, reveal a forgotten alliance that reshaped North Africa's decolonization. They offer a sweeping account of a gripping history of pan-Maghrebi solidarity, which the Algerian military regime would soon bury beneath propaganda, having turned its back on Morocco at the first opportunity to support separatism and hostility. Read also: The Last Believers: Memory, Mirage, and the Failed Promises of the Algerian Revolution

UK Recognized Morocco's Sovereignty Over Western Sahara Back in 1721
UK Recognized Morocco's Sovereignty Over Western Sahara Back in 1721

Morocco World

time21 hours ago

  • Morocco World

UK Recognized Morocco's Sovereignty Over Western Sahara Back in 1721

Marrakech – 'Morocco's rule over Western Sahara is widely accepted,' declared a recent The Guardian headline, reflecting the growing international consensus behind the North African country's territorial integrity. This acknowledgment recalls a centuries-old reality: Britain's recognition of Morocco's sovereignty over Western Sahara dates back to the Treaty of Friendship of 1721. The historic treaty, signed in Fez on January 23, 1721, during the reign of King George I, explicitly addresses Morocco's Sultan Moulay Ismail as 'King of Fez, Mequinez, Morocco, and all the West of Africa.' This unambiguous diplomatic language confirms that Britain considered the territories now known as Western Sahara (Sakia El Hamra and Rio de Oro) as integral parts of Morocco's sovereign domain – a conclusive historical proof of Morocco's legitimate territorial rights. The Anglo-Moroccan alliance, one of the world's oldest diplomatic relationships, originated even earlier with correspondence between Queen Elizabeth I and Sultan Ahmad al-Mansour in the late 16th century. This foundation of strategic trust predated Morocco's Treaty of Peace and Friendship with the United States by several decades, testifying to the kingdom's long-standing status as a fully sovereign and globally respected nation. Beyond that, the UK was the sole European power that, prior to Morocco's subjugation by France and Spain in 1912, had signed the treaty of March 13, 1895, explicitly recognizing present-day Western Sahara as Moroccan territory. Britain later betrayed this recognition when it colluded with France in the secret agreement of April 1904, permitting France to grant Spain a 'sphere of influence' in southern Morocco without consulting the kingdom – despite Morocco remaining an independent, sovereign country. This historical treachery culminated in the Franco-Spanish agreement of October 1904 that handed Spain the Sahara in 'full possession and sovereignty' – a colonial land grab executed without Morocco's consent. The dispute was manufactured through European imperial machinations, not through any legitimate question of territorial sovereignty. Britain's recent support for Morocco's Autonomy Plan obliterates this colonial-era injustice, albeit after a shameful period of diplomatic equivocation. World rejects Algeria's proxy game In June, British Foreign Secretary David Lammy and his Moroccan counterpart Nasser Bourita signed a joint communiqué recognizing Morocco's autonomy proposal as 'the most credible, viable and pragmatic basis for a lasting resolution of the dispute.' This decisive British stance follows similar endorsements from the United States under President Trump and France under President Macron. As Andrew Rosemarine noted in his The Guardian letter, 'The majority of the population in the Sahara welcomes Morocco's sovereignty and development of its economy.' The UK's declaration represents another crushing blow to Algeria's disintegrating separatist agenda. The Algerian regime, a military junta cobbled together merely 62 years ago, continues to desperately cling to its bankrupt project while Morocco boasts an 800-year history of diplomatic relations with Britain. Algeria's stunted foreign policy establishment now finds itself increasingly cornered and besieged, responding with feeble, unconvincing statements that expose its deepening isolation. Algeria's military rulers, utterly devoid of legitimacy, have constructed their entire political identity around an artificial conflict engineered to undermine Morocco. The faltering Algerian regime stubbornly props up the Polisario Front, a proxy militia increasingly condemned as a terrorist organization. Even more damning, Algiers contemptuously turned a deaf ear to King Mohammed VI's extended olive branch in his recent throne day speech – a telling demonstration of a regime pathologically incapable of pursuing regional peace and prosperity. The recent initiative in the US Congress to officially designate the Polisario as a terrorist group has sent shockwaves through Algiers, unmasking the regime's complicity with extremism under the cynical guise of 'self-determination.' The recent avalanche of international declarations supporting Morocco's territorial integrity signals the death knell for Algeria's separatist fantasy. The UK's forceful backing, coming just after Kenya abandoned its pro-Polisario stance, pushes Morocco to the brink of total victory in this decades-long conflict. The British commitment of five billion pounds for development projects throughout Morocco, specifically including the southern provinces, demolishes any remaining pretense about London's position on Morocco's sovereignty. As a permanent member of the UN Security Council, Britain's backing carries exceptional weight. This historical correction with sweeping strategic implications arrives at a particularly humiliating moment for Algeria – during its temporary membership on the Security Council, where it had foolishly hoped to sabotage Morocco's diplomatic momentum. The three European powers most responsible for the genesis of the conflict – France, Spain, and the UK – have now surrendered to Morocco's position, acknowledging both historical reality and strategic necessity. This irreversible shift in the global consensus proves that Morocco's approach to resolving the territorial dispute has triumphed over Algeria's obsolete separatist fantasies. The Algerian regime, drowning in its diplomatic failures, now watches helplessly as its fabricated narrative crumbles. The Kabranat (military officers) in Algiers are experiencing one of their most severe moments of diplomatic disorientation following the political earthquake triggered by the US Congress initiative. The military rulers who have staked their existence on nurturing a 'hybrid separatist project' now stand naked before the world, scrambling between American congressional offices, desperately attempting to swallow the catastrophe before it's permanently recorded in international registries. Tags: Morocco and the UKWestern sahara

Casablanca's Echo: Roosevelt's New Deal Lessons for an Africa Confronting Climate Change, AI, and Migration Barriers
Casablanca's Echo: Roosevelt's New Deal Lessons for an Africa Confronting Climate Change, AI, and Migration Barriers

Morocco World

time3 days ago

  • Morocco World

Casablanca's Echo: Roosevelt's New Deal Lessons for an Africa Confronting Climate Change, AI, and Migration Barriers

In January 1943, at the height of World War II, President Franklin D. Roosevelt traveled to Casablanca, [French] Morocco, where he convened with British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, French generals Charles de Gaulle and Henri Giraud, and Sultan Mohammed V, while Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin contributed from a distance. The Casablanca Conference not only charted the Allied course to victory but also articulated a vision for a postwar world rooted in peace, cooperation, and prosperity. Roosevelt's presence on African soil—engaged in high-stakes diplomacy over freedom, development, and strategic partnership—was more than symbolic. It signaled a moment of global reckoning and possibility. That moment, born in Casablanca, continues to resonate—not as a relic of history, but as a call to action for a new generation of Africans confronting the pressing challenges of our time. Last week, I stood in the shadow of Mount Hood, Oregon, and walked the storied halls of Timberline Lodge—a majestic stone-and-wood structure built at the height of the Great Depression under President Franklin D. Roosevelt's Works Progress Administration (WPA). As I watched a documentary recounting its rapid 15-month construction, I listened to Roosevelt's 1937 dedication speech, in which he praised the lodge as 'a monument to the skill and faithful performance of workers on the rolls of the WPA.' It was more than a building; it was a symbol of national renewal. Timberline was born of a radical ethos: offer not just jobs, but dignity, skills, and wages—and in doing so, rebuild the country from the ground up. Roosevelt envisioned Timberline as a test: could government-built and -operated recreational infrastructure serve both economic recovery and public well-being? The answer, resoundingly, was yes. Today, Timberline Lodge welcomes nearly two million visitors annually, a cultural landmark and economic engine for the region. It stands as proof of what public work can achieve: it not only employs, it educates; it not only pays wages, it fosters citizenship, trust, and craftsmanship. The WPA's mission went beyond short-term relief—it was about investing in the future by restoring human potential. As I stood in Timberline's great hall—crafted by once-unemployed stonemasons, carpenters, weavers, and laborers—I felt something deeper. It wasn't nostalgia; it was recognition. I saw in that structure a roadmap for the future. For nearly a century later, nations like Morocco and many across Africa now face their own crisis of joblessness, particularly among the youth, and the same urgent question looms: How do we restore hope and opportunity at scale? Just as Timberline rose from the ashes of economic despair, Africa today stands at a similar crossroads. With 70% of its population under the age of 30, the continent holds the world's youngest demographic. This could become a demographic dividend—or a ticking time bomb. Without bold public investment in employment, training, and infrastructure, the chasm between aspiration and opportunity will only widen. At the same time, a convergence of disruptive forces is eroding traditional pathways to prosperity across Africa. Chief among them is artificial intelligence (AI), which is rapidly transforming labor markets by automating tasks once performed by humans—ranging from clerical and manufacturing roles to customer service, logistics, and even parts of creative and analytical work. These sectors had long been seen as accessible entry points for emerging economies aiming to industrialize and absorb surplus labor. Now, many of those opportunities risk vanishing before they fully materialize. AI is not merely a disruptive innovation—it is a general-purpose, potentially transformative technology capable of boosting productivity and generating global economic gains. Yet, as with past technological revolutions, its benefits are unlikely to be equitably shared. AI threatens to deepen disparities between individuals, firms, and regions—widening socio-economic divides both within and between nations. For African countries, the implications are particularly severe. AI undermines traditional comparative advantages such as low-cost labor, potentially displacing African economies from labor-intensive segments of global value chains. This technological displacement could degrade terms of trade, stall industrial policy goals, and reverse progress in closing the gap with high-income countries. Without deliberate strategies for inclusive technological adoption, AI risks becoming not a bridge to catch up, but a wall that entrenches global hierarchies. The urgent task for African states is to shape AI deployment in ways that serve local development priorities, economic sovereignty, and equitable growth. Meanwhile, migration—once a vital outlet for Africa's job-seeking youth—is becoming increasingly constrained. Former destinations such as Europe, North America, and the Gulf are tightening borders under the weight of rising nationalism, economic stress, and geopolitical uncertainty. Migration pathways are no longer simply difficult; they are now more enclosed, securitized, and politicized than ever. Climate change represents another compounding crisis. From prolonged droughts and desertification to erratic rainfall and rising sea levels, climate disruption is displacing millions, undermining food systems, and destabilizing livelihoods—particularly in agriculture, still the continent's largest employer. As crops fail, livestock die, and rural incomes collapse, young people are pushed toward overcrowded cities in search of jobs that don't exist. Climate-induced displacement and unemployment now pose existential threats, making the creation of climate-resilient employment and infrastructure a critical priority. Any sustainable employment strategy must therefore integrate climate adaptation—through investments in reforestation, sustainable agriculture, water management, and renewable energy. These are not only environmental imperatives but also potential sources of dignified, future-oriented work. The hard truth is that Africa cannot migrate its way out of this triple crisis. The solutions must come from within. But this inward turn must not be isolationist—it must be imaginative. Africa must draw on its own creativity, talent, and cultural capital to build inclusive rural and urban economies that serve the many, not the few. This is not a retreat—it is a reawakening. A New Deal for African youth, inspired by Roosevelt's WPA, offers a powerful model. It is not only about jobs; it is about giving young people a meaningful stake in their countries' futures—a reason to stay, a path to belong, and a belief that the future can be built from within. In 1937, in the cold Oregon air, Roosevelt captured that spirit when he declared that Timberline Lodge represented not only economic recovery, but hope—'a place for generations of Americans to come.' Africa, too, must build such places—not just of stone and timber, but of purpose, belonging, and transformation. The WPA shows us what's possible. The question now is: will we rise to meet this moment? The Works Progress Administration (WPA), created in 1935 as part of Roosevelt's New Deal, was one of the most ambitious and transformative public employment programs in American history. At its core, the WPA sought to address the devastating effects of the Great Depression by putting millions of Americans to work. But its legacy reaches far beyond temporary relief. The WPA fundamentally reshaped the landscape of American infrastructure, arts, education, public health, and civic life. Over its eight years of operation (1935-1943), the WPA employed more than 8.5 million people—men and women, skilled and unskilled—on a vast array of public works projects. These included the construction and repair of over 650,000 miles (1,046,073.6 kilometers) of roads and 78,000 bridges, the building of more than 125,000 schools, hospitals, libraries, and courthouses, and the improvement of water and sewer systems in urban and rural areas alike. WPA workers built airports, planted trees, drained swamps, and installed hundreds of thousands of sanitary toilets in homes lacking plumbing. These projects not only improved public health and connectivity, but also laid the groundwork for America's mid-century economic expansion. Importantly, the WPA also recognized the value of cultural and intellectual labor. Through its Federal One programs—the Federal Art Project, the Federal Writers' Project, the Federal Theater Project, and the Federal Music Project—the WPA employed thousands of artists, playwrights, musicians, and historians. They created murals, staged plays, recorded oral histories, and provided music education and public concerts. These initiatives democratized access to the arts, preserved cultural heritage, and nurtured future luminaries like Orson Welles, Saul Bellow, and Zora Neale Hurston. At the administrative level, the WPA was guided by a philosophy of labor-intensive, community-based development. It required that 90% of project budgets go to labor rather than materials, ensuring that funds flowed directly to households in need. Projects had to be useful to communities and sponsored by local governments, which kept them grounded in real, localized needs. In short, the WPA offered not just jobs, but purpose, pride, and skill-building. It also restored something intangible but vital: dignity. For many, receiving a paycheck earned through hard work—as a road builder, an artist, a teacher, or a nurse—meant far more than subsistence. It meant being recognized as a contributing citizen. The psychological and social effects of dignified work cannot be overstated, especially in times of widespread economic uncertainty. Dignity is not a luxury; it is the foundation of resilience, self-worth, and civic trust. When people are given meaningful work and the opportunity to learn, they recover not just income, but identity. Fast forward to the present: Morocco's youth face a very different landscape, but with strikingly similar structural challenges. Today, approximately 28% of Moroccan youth (15–24 years old) are classified as NEET—Not in Employment, Education, or Training. That's about 2 million young people frozen out of opportunity. The labor market cannot absorb the 390,000 new entrants each year. Barely a third find work in the formal or informal economy. And while higher education helps, it's not enough—especially for women, who represent 77% of all NEET youth. For young Moroccan women aged 23–24, the NEET rate reaches 70%, while only 20% are working. Educational attainment improves prospects somewhat, but social norms, marital status, and location (especially in rural areas) compound the disadvantages for young women. Even worse, the NEET condition tends to persist. Nearly 38% of those who were NEET in 2010 remained NEET in 2018, and 54% of women in that group never transitioned to work or education. This reflects a deep loss of human capital and a cycle of exclusion that current labor strategies have failed to break. Here is where the WPA model offers urgently needed insights: Labor-Intensive Public Works: African governments must lead large-scale programs that create immediate employment while addressing urgent infrastructure needs—roads, irrigation systems, sanitation, schools, and green energy. These projects can absorb large numbers of workers quickly and lay the foundation for long-term economic growth and resilience. African governments must lead large-scale programs that create immediate employment while addressing urgent infrastructure needs—roads, irrigation systems, sanitation, schools, and green energy. These projects can absorb large numbers of workers quickly and lay the foundation for long-term economic growth and resilience. Skills Development with Dignity: WPA workers weren't merely laborers; they became craftspeople. Training was central. Today's programs must embed vocational education, digital literacy, and apprenticeships to prepare youth for both traditional sectors and emerging industries. At the heart of this effort is a recognition that all forms of labor—physical, artistic, or intellectual—deserve respect. When people learn and earn simultaneously, they don't just gain livelihoods; they reclaim dignity and agency. WPA workers weren't merely laborers; they became craftspeople. Training was central. Today's programs must embed vocational education, digital literacy, and apprenticeships to prepare youth for both traditional sectors and emerging industries. At the heart of this effort is a recognition that all forms of labor—physical, artistic, or intellectual—deserve respect. When people learn and earn simultaneously, they don't just gain livelihoods; they reclaim dignity and agency. Gender-Inclusive Design: Any meaningful employment strategy must confront structural gender inequality. Public employment programs should provide childcare support, safe transport, and flexible scheduling to enable women's participation—especially in rural areas—while ensuring workplace safety and dignity for all. Any meaningful employment strategy must confront structural gender inequality. Public employment programs should provide childcare support, safe transport, and flexible scheduling to enable women's participation—especially in rural areas—while ensuring workplace safety and dignity for all. AI for Inclusive Development: Rather than view artificial intelligence solely as a threat, African nations can harness it as a developmental tool. An 'AI-powered WPA' could mobilize local talent to digitize government archives, build and train language models in African languages, modernize agriculture with precision tools, and expand access to education and healthcare through intelligent platforms. Designed with equity and sustainability in mind, such initiatives can create skilled jobs, enhance public services, and turn AI into a force for socioeconomic convergence—not further exclusion. Rather than view artificial intelligence solely as a threat, African nations can harness it as a developmental tool. An 'AI-powered WPA' could mobilize local talent to digitize government archives, build and train language models in African languages, modernize agriculture with precision tools, and expand access to education and healthcare through intelligent platforms. Designed with equity and sustainability in mind, such initiatives can create skilled jobs, enhance public services, and turn into a force for socioeconomic convergence—not further exclusion. Cultural and Intellectual Employment: Africa's artists, storytellers, musicians, and historians are vital to national memory and identity. A contemporary version of the WPA's 'Federal One' could fund oral history projects, local archives, cultural festivals, and public art initiatives—preserving heritage while creating creative livelihoods. Africa's artists, storytellers, musicians, and historians are vital to national memory and identity. A contemporary version of the WPA's 'Federal One' could fund oral history projects, local archives, cultural festivals, and public art initiatives—preserving heritage while creating creative livelihoods. Leverage Regional Strategies: Morocco's Royal Atlantic Initiative offers a powerful model for transnational public investment. By linking Morocco with West African nations through integrated infrastructure—ports, logistics corridors, digital networks, and renewable energy—the initiative lays the foundation for a regional employment and training ecosystem. Embedded within a WPA-style public works framework, this strategy could generate millions of jobs and foster a shared sense of agency and belonging across borders. Morocco's Royal Atlantic Initiative offers a powerful model for transnational public investment. By linking Morocco with West African nations through integrated infrastructure—ports, logistics corridors, digital networks, and renewable energy—the initiative lays the foundation for a regional employment and training ecosystem. Embedded within a WPA-style public works framework, this strategy could generate millions of jobs and foster a shared sense of agency and belonging across borders. Multi-Level Partnerships and Continental Vision: Just as the WPA worked with state and local governments, African states must collaborate with private investors, development banks, and regional bodies such as the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA). These partnerships can scale public employment programs while aligning them with broader continental priorities. The Timberline Lodge stands today not just as a beautiful ski resort on Mount Hood, but as a living testament to what happens when governments bet on their people. Surrounded by hiking trails carved through alpine forests—trails that themselves were part of WPA-era efforts to open public lands—the lodge remains a symbol of inclusive infrastructure and civic imagination. In Morocco, in Uganda, in Kenya, in Senegal, in Egypt—in every nation grappling with the pressures of joblessness and social tensions—there is room for WPA-style thinking. Not because we wish to relive the 1930s, but because we have inherited its wisdom. We need an African WPA for the 21st century. Not just to build bridges and lodges, but to bridge the gaps between generations, between despair and hope, between stagnation and shared prosperity. The stakes are too high to settle for less. Roosevelt's echoes still call to us—will we listen? In 1943, standing in Casablanca, President Roosevelt declared a bold wartime declaration: 'unconditional surrender' to the forces of fascism. Today, we confront a different but no less urgent struggle—not against armies, but against climate collapse, deepening poverty, mass unemployment, exclusion, and the widening divide wrought by artificial intelligence. These are not battles waged with weapons, but with vision, policy, and moral resolve. They demand the same clarity of purpose Roosevelt summoned during wartime—and the same enduring faith he placed in public action through the Works Progress Administration. The WPA was more than a jobs program; it embodied a foundational belief that government could be a generative force for dignity, equity, and renewal. It recognized that meaningful work—rooted in communities and broadly shared—could do more than alleviate economic despair; it could restore hope, rebuild trust, and help nations imagine a future worth striving for. Let us meet this moment in that same spirit—not with retreat, but with imagination, investment, and collective courage. Let 'unconditional surrender' become more than a relic of military history—let it be reclaimed as a developmental credo for an Africa that believes in itself and dares to build a just, inclusive, and sustainable future. Tags: AfricaAIartificial intelligenceclimate change

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