Opinions

We Asked 9 Moroccans What They Think About the Ongoing Protests

BYYassine Hariss

October 1, 2025

It feels as if the inevitable has finally happened: Morocco, too, may be entering the wave of reforms and change that swept its neighbors by storm a little over a decade ago during the Arab Spring circa 2011. Back then, the Kingdom went through a relatively limited set of constitutional and political reforms that helped it avoid the level of upheaval seen elsewhere in the region. Today, the cracks left unsealed are resurfacing as a new generation demands deeper change and refuses to settle for symbolic gestures or shallow efforts.

Last weekend, thousands of young Moroccans took to the streets in peaceful protest, calling on their elected officials to fix the country’s education and healthcare systems. Under the banner GENZ212, the movement was sparked by the deaths of eight pregnant women at a hospital in Agadir; a tragedy blamed on the lack of proper care, doctors, and medicine. What began as local outrage quickly pulled in the entire country. And since, all protesters were met with was extraordinary level of violence, the kind Morocco hasn’t witnessed in years, or at least not on this scale.

With no ulterior motive other than the demands voiced in their chants, hundreds were arrested and jailed for exercising what should be their constitutional right. At a time when the Kingdom appears to be thriving— at least from the outside looking in— a whole generation is breaking its silence, stripping away the glossy veneer to spotlight what truly needs attention: not stadiums for the World Cup or AFCON, but the basic pillars of a healthy society. One of the slogans that has gained traction highlights the stark divide between Morocco and al-Maghreb. The former referring to the polished, online image of a wealthy, flourishing country; the latter pointing to the reality lived by the underprivileged: a Morocco still struggling to be seen. Four days into the protests, tensions remain high with more and more demonstrators joining the movement each day, despite the heavy-handed response from authorities.

It’s time #GenZ212 pic.twitter.com/0JlPaLMF6J

— Tito (@Titube89) September 28, 2025

As one reader quipped, “the donkeys in government have gotten so full of themselves, they’ve started to believe they’re horses” — a sharp way of capturing the frustration many feel toward a ruling class that, despite presiding over crumbling schools, underfunded hospitals, and growing poverty, still take pride in the image of progress and modernity some areas of the country project.

With the unrest showing no sign of easing — and the violence in the streets only intensifying — we turned to nine Moroccans from different walks of life to hear how they’re experiencing this moment; what they make of the protests, the state’s response, and the uncertain road ahead.

Oumayma, 24 (Marrakesh)

On the first day, I felt both fear and hope at the same time. Fear because I saw how quickly peaceful voices were met with violence, but also hope because I realized that so many of us shared the same desire for dignity. Seeing people beaten and dragged made me angry, but even more determined to stand with them.

When the government says (that the protests) threaten stability, I hear fear. What threatens stability more than corruption, unemployment, or people with no future? Real stability comes when people feel heard and safe, not when they are silenced.

Our generation grew up watching promises that never turned into reality. Social media opened our eyes; we can no longer pretend not to see the inequality. We’re not afraid to expose things, to document, to speak. Older generations carried weight too, but many of them lost faith. We’re choosing not to.

I want people outside Morocco to understand that this isn’t chaos: it’s love for our country. We protest because we care, because we want Morocco to be better. What we’re asking for is dignity, justice, and a future worth living. Don’t let the government’s narrative of “instability” fool you.

Aicha, 26 (Marrakech)

True instability comes from ignoring people’s needs, not from people asking for a better life. Stability is built on justice, dignity, and fairness– not repression. (The protests) are not only about hospitals and schools, but about priorities, where money goes, and who decides. It’s also about how power is structured and how disconnected those in charge are from everyday struggles.

If we see real investment in health and education, not just stadiums and empty projects, if there were accountability and transparency in how the country is run, and if people felt free to speak up without fear, then the protests would already be worth it.

Chama, 35 (Casablanca)

It’s about priorities, about whether people’s daily lives– health, education, dignity–come before entertainment and profit. It’s not only about infrastructure, it’s about how decisions are made and who they serve. The first movement to criticize the preparations for the World Cup was the one defending animals’ rights in the face of mass culling. I have always believed in intersectionality and the current situation shows how important it is to keep it in mind.

This is not isolated, GenZ are taking the streets everywhere, in Nepal, in Peru… They also feel the weight of unemployment, inequality, and disillusion. Unlike older generations, they’re less willing to accept “that’s just how it is.” They demand better, openly, and to be honest I am glad they are still believing in the fact that they deserve better. I myself was a bit disillusioned about the situation, especially through the lens of my volunteer work. About 10 years ago when I would ask middle-school kids what their dreams were, they were unable to answer. One told me “accountant.” They couldn’t voice clear opinions in either French or Arabic. This movement is proving me wrong and showing me there is hope after all.

Many believe nothing fundamental can shift without the King’s will, and that’s true to a large extent. From what I saw on social media, I think young people count on the King to counterbalance the loss of faith in the government.

Sdot, 26 (Kenitra)

According to Moroccan law, every protest needs approval from local authorities before taking place. But authorities would never approve such protests which is what makes them seem like they’re going against the law now.

In my opinion, whenever a group of young people agree and start asking the right questions the government sees it as a potential threat and uses violence. We can take the example of football ultras in Morocco, where unnecessary violence is used over and over. In a way, violence was expected because it’s always used for these types of incidents.

For me, I didn’t protest simply because I know that it can go south at any minute and I have a family that I provide for. I have a good job Alhamdulillah, considering that a job is a privilege in Morocco (+35% of youth are unemployed) I just couldn’t risk it.

King Mohammed VI said in one of his speeches that Morocco is developing at two different speeds. There is a big contrast, we neglected the core of society and tried to get over the edge with the World Cup. The World Cup doesn’t serve the average individual, it will only make his life worse. Inflation rate is at the highest, salaries are not keeping up with that, and it’s only getting worse. It’s way deeper than just education and healthcare.

I want the people outside of Morocco to know that the protests are not threatening Morocco’s stability as long as the protests are peaceful. Until now, the violence is one-sided. There are some exceptions but those are just reactions to police violence.

Change won’t come overnight; you cannot rebuild an entire system in a short time. But we need the government to come out and show a sense of understanding and come with a clear action plan for the short and long term. Education and healthcare first, if we can just save these two then I’ll say that the protests were worth it.

Imad, 28 (Marrakech)

If the system is so weak that it arrests people for simply walking, then we have already lost all illusion of democracy. The truth is, when fear becomes the government’s only tool, it means that power is built on sand, not stone.

Yes, the arrests, the intimidation, the beatings are terrifying. But they are also proof that we are right. Proof that our words are powerful. If we weren’t a threat to their lies, they wouldn’t be trying so hard to silence us. What happened to us on Sept. 29–walking in Jamaa Lafna and still being arrested without cause–shows how fragile and paranoid the system has become. We weren’t chanting. We weren’t protesting. We weren’t even holding signs. We were simply existing in a public space during a time when truth itself has become dangerous. This doesn’t make me want to stop. It makes me want to fight harder. Because if they can treat peaceful, silent young people like criminals, then what they’re trying to protect isn’t “order,” it’s a lie.

We are not a threat to Morocco’s stability, they are… We are the ones asking for justice, equality, and accountability. They are the ones using tear gas and handcuffs to silence people asking for hospitals and schools. Real stability is built on trust and dignity. And until this government understands that, it will never have it either.

This regime is obsessed with appearances. They build shiny things to distract from what’s rotten beneath.

The new stadium openings are insulting when teachers can’t pay rent and patients are dying waiting for care. But the real crisis is not just economic, it’s political. It’s a system where corruption is rewarded, truth is punished, and the voices of the people are treated like threats instead of being listened to.

Fixing this country means more than fixing buildings. It means redistributing power. It means ending impunity. It means building a government that serves the people not itself.

We are not your photo, we are not your desert fantasy, or your cheap holiday abroad. Behind the images of Riads and beaches is a country where youth are being arrested for walking, where journalists are jailed for speaking up, and where people are dying from neglect in hospitals the world never sees.

If you care about justice, stop romanticizing our oppression. Stop feeding a regime that crushes its own people. Your money funds silence. We don’t need saviors, we need witnesses, we need solidarity. Stand with us, not just for a moment, but for a movement.

Leena, 24 (Casablanca/Marrakech)

I actually think the absence of a single leader is the strength of this movement. Moroccans can disagree on many things like policies, parties, and ideologies, but everyone converges around a few essential demands: healthcare, education, and dignity. Leadership can be co-opted, discredited, or corrupted. This way, the movement belongs to everyone who believes in these universal human rights.

Our generation grew up in a hyper-connected, constantly changing world. We’ve had enough access to information to form independent judgments without waiting for official approval. That has made us analytical, skeptical, and impatient with empty promises. But these protests are not generationally isolated. They are intergenerational spaces where young people may set the tone, but elders, workers, and even children participate as well. If Gen Z sparked something, it’s only because the conditions were already there for others to join.

For me, the King is not the central question. The real responsibility lies with the government and the policies it has chosen, policies that have driven up costs and allowed public services to decay. Even if it’s always heartwarming, my generation is conscious that real change doesn’t require symbolic appearances; it requires those in charge of governance to act on their duties.

Mehdi, 37 (Tangier)

Not being a Gen Z myself, my first reaction was pride in this young generation that many thought was not interested in politics or not equipped intellectually to understand what was going on in the country. I was also nervous knowing the history of repression that gen Zs didn’t live.

The police brutality was something we could see coming. The brutality had one goal. Try and kill the movement as soon as possible by scaring the youth and making peaceful protests impossible. But that only made it grow. People prepared even better, organized even better. Knowing the law, contacts of lawyers, all the little and big things one can do to not fall into their trap. Many people were having their first experience dealing with the police and many were shocked because they didn’t expect the repression to fall into its historical habits.

When regions are lacking basic health or education one can ask if having the biggest stadium in Africa is a priority. The hospitals and schools are historically and structurally in bad shape in Morocco. It’s not new. And this need for change was already urgent 10, 20 and 30 years ago.

Morocco, like most countries, has started investing heavily in private schools and private hospitals instead of fixing, “healing” the public system. Investors saw the great opportunities and Moroccans feel hostage to this reality.

I think that the vast majority of Moroccans view the King as a warranty of stability. We are not blind to western models of democracies that turn very brutally into violent oligarchies. Western standards are not the answer. Monarchy is part of Morocco’s identity and history. We need a competent government to apply the King’s vision that has not been the case for many, many years. We need the executive power to be held accountable.

Aicha, 25 (Rabat)

The protests are leaderless because they signify the unity of Moroccans pleading against government officials, asking for a better living. And honestly, it’s the bare minimum at this point. Not following a specific person is a very strong statement. Gen Z wants peace, wants to be heard, but doesn’t want to lead to violence.

Most of the elected officials now come from privileged backgrounds. They don’t have the required understanding to see the protests for what they are. What’s so threatening about people asking for a decent living, good education, and hospitals after several women died in Agadir trying to give birth?

How is any of this normal? Power works in a way that mainly pleases elected officials who are in no way an accurate representation of OUR PEOPLE. Very few officials are applauded for their efforts, and try me when I say that they are very few.

Abdelsamad, 28 (Casablanca)

After the stadium opening, a lot of people started talking about this, asking themselves how it made sense when the country is struggling on so many levels. It was only a matter of time — this new generation is nothing like our parents’.

There’s a French proverb that says: you can stop the spring, but you can’t stop the flowers from growing. I’m not great with the translation, but the meaning is clear: no one is scared anymore. This isn’t new: we used to see this kind of oppression and violence inside stadiums, and now it’s happening out in the open.

Building those huge stadiums and showing the world that we’re “developing” the sports sector is a big lie. Come and look at our national championship— it’s a mess– poor quality, low level, weak stadiums. First-world countries built hospitals before they built stadiums. I want us to have big stadiums, yes— but also big hospitals and big universities.

The King is the last hope to fix this situation. Hopefully something will change, because Morocco is not just camels, Marrakech, lovely weather, and beaches. People are suffering from poverty, a lack of education, a lack of healthcare, and high unemployment.

We Asked 9 Moroccans What They Think About the Ongoing Protests

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We Asked 9 Moroccans What They Think About the Ongoing Protests

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