"Luxury" Farming: The High Cost of Exports — Noureddine Boutahar

The paradox between export-oriented agriculture and food

sovereignty embodies the core thesis of the book Food First (Lappé & Collins). The authors argue that hunger and vulnerability are not the results of resource scarcity, but rather political choices that prioritize "digital growth" and macroeconomic figures over the basic livelihood and security of the people.

Applying this lens to the Moroccan model, it is clear that successive agricultural policies have triggered an export boom while leaving the citizen's "daily bread" at the mercy of the wind. This obsession with luxury crops tailored for European and Gulf markets is depleting Morocco’s most precious resource: its water.

While entire regions face structural thirst, groundwater is being diverted to cultivate water-intensive "cash crops" like watermelons and avocados in semi-arid zones. These products essentially export thousands of liters of water overseas, while the domestic prices of staples like onions and potatoes soar to record highs.

True to the book's warnings, subsidies and incentives flows primarily toward large-scale investors and export giants. Meanwhile, the small-scale farmer—the backbone of grain and vegetable production—faces the specter of bankruptcy and drought. This imbalance fuels a rural exodus, further straining urban centers and driving up inflation.

In our modern context, the "manufacture of hunger" does not imply an absence of food in the markets; rather, it means that the cost of a simple citizen's tagine is now held hostage by foreign currency fluctuations and the whims of international consumers. Returning to national priorities—privatizing wheat and basic vegetables over luxury fruits—is not merely an economic preference; it is a fundamental necessity for social stability and genuine sovereignty.

When Envy Turns Lethal — Noureddine Boutahar

A Jordanian social media user brilliantly captured the current wave of jealousy surrounding Morocco's footballing

dominance by drawing on a haunting literary allegory. He tells the story of a village pillaged by invaders, where every woman was forced into submission except for one. She fought tooth and nail to defend her honor until she finally repelled her attacker.

Instead of hailing her as a hero, the other women conspired to kill her. Their motive? Her survival as the "sole virtuous one" was a stinging rebuke to their own surrender—a living testament that exposed their compliance to their husbands.

This metaphor perfectly encapsulates the toxic political and sporting envy currently directed at the Kingdom of Morocco. Unable to keep pace with the Moroccan "footballing boom" or the country’s world-class infrastructure, critics have found themselves overshadowed. The success of the Atlas Lions has become a mirror, cruelly reflecting the failures of those around them.

Morocco’s excellence has become an "unbearable proof" of others' shortcomings. Consequently, praying for Morocco’s downfall in the Africa Cup of Nations isn't about healthy sporting rivalry; it is a desperate attempt to normalize failure. They want everyone to wallow in the slough of despond together, hoping that by pulling Morocco down into the mud, they can finally obscure the towering achievements that keep them up at night.