All That Glitters… Noureddine Boutahar

I pulled into the parking spot in front of the institute, mindful of those public protocols that some folks nowadays seem to view more as shackles than responsibilities. My orderly

approach didn't last long, though. The silence was shattered by the driver of a luxury car who, in a cliché display of "entitlement culture," parked in a restricted zone with such brazenness you’d think the law was merely a set of suggestions meant only for the little people.

He didn't stop at breaking the rules; he turned the street into his own personal trash can. He flicked a tissue out the window with the practiced ease of someone who thinks they're pulling off a slick move, when in reality, he was putting on a masterclass in social idiocy. It brought to mind the saying of the great Zouhair Bnu Abi Salma: “Whatever trait a man may possess, even if he thinks it hidden from others, it will inevitably come to light.” I shot him a look, intending it to be a reproach, but he met it with the icy indifference of someone who couldn't care less. He even repeated the act, this time right in front of his daughter—a student, presumably at an age where she’s still forming her own sense of right and wrong.

What’s most disheartening is that this wasn't just a simple case of bad manners; it was the embodiment of a tragic "flawed role model." The problem isn't really the discarded tissue; it’s the visual lesson the daughter just received: that the symbolic power suggested by a fancy car grants its owner a fake immunity from decency and order. As the Iraqi poet said: “If the head of the house is beating the drum, the whole family will follow suit and dance.”

This scene exposes a gaping hole in our collective consciousness. We burn so much energy criticizing the way society behaves while remaining blissfully ignorant of our own unchecked actions. This hypocrisy—preaching morality while failing to practice it—is the real rot. Unless we start holding ourselves accountable before we rush to police everyone else, we’ll just keep watching our values crumble, left only to mop up the mess of our own double standards.

A Cry Against Chaos: The Funeral of Courtesy Noureddine Boutahar

Tahar Ben Jelloun, in his latest article, didn’t unveil a hidden truth or hand us a philosophical gem. He merely rubbed salt into our daily wound: the slow, humiliating death of manners and civic sense. Nothing groundbreaking here, except that while many of us keep burying our heads in the sand, Ben Jelloun stood up and shouted: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are a nation addicted to chaos much like toddlers clinging to their toys!”

Yes, today we are hargawis of behavior—refugees from civility itself. We elbow and jostle in lines as if survival depended on it. We curse and insult at the drop of a hat, in full stereo, in front of children and grandparents alike. We feed stray cats and dogs on neighbors’ doorsteps as though sidewalks came with title deeds. We cross the road with the elegance of stampeding buffalo and then swear at whoever dares to honk. In cafés, buses, and other public places conversations are pitched at rock-concert levels, phone calls become public theater, and the rest of us are forced to applaud nonsense we never asked to hear. And when night falls, it is treated not as a time for rest, but as a sacred hour for collective harassment: music blaring, voices rising, laughter piercing as if we are not a community but lone Robinson Crusoes on a shared island.

And if that wasn’t enough, we’ve thrown in a few more “special effects”: skipping queues in bakeries and government offices as though we were God’s chosen; driving with the philosophy of “the road is mine and to hell with you”; blocking intersections to swap jokes and family gossip; honking horns like battle drums. Weddings become noise factories, complete with deafening music and ululations that could wake the dead, while the sick neighbor or weary worker be damned. Even funerals aren’t spared: we close streets, torment the living, and call it paying respect to the dead. And to put the cherry on the cake, we sprinkle in habits like letting our dogs run off-leash in public, leaving toilets unflushed so the stench can linger as a “souvenir,” blocking hallways as if they were personal living rooms, and seasoning it all with a generous dose of foul language in public spaces.

We tag public walls with vulgar graffiti that screams less “artistic expression” than “civilizational meltdown.” Garbage bins sit steps away, yet our trash prefers the street. Vigilantism, vandalism, hooliganism — we’ve turned every shade of antisocial behavior into a national folk dance. Children play football in alleys as though they were in the Champions League, while residents and drivers dodge balls instead of traffic. Smoking in public spaces is practically a civic duty now; object and you’ll quickly regret it—verbal abuse if you’re lucky, a fist or a spit in the face if you’re not. Apologies? Out of stock. Empathy? A relic. Giving a seat to an old man or priority to a pregnant woman? That’s for fairy tales.

The real punchline? We baptize this chaos with sugar-coated excuses: “It’s nothing,” “God forgive,” “hshooma,” “never mind him/her.” Voilà: breaking the law becomes charity, and disorder is paraded as a national virtue.

A few days ago, I remarked on a friend’s Facebook post that cafés had become breeding grounds for deliberate rudeness, where disturbing others is sport and confrontation is dessert. Within hours, two hundred people had clicked “like.” Proof, if any was needed, that this isn’t just my irritation—it’s a collective migraine. 

And let me add a little scene of my own. I was busy drafting this article when a series of odd clicking sounds snapped my concentration. I turned around, only to find a well-dressed gentleman — shiny suit, neatly tied necktie, the whole “respectable” package — casually clipping his nails right in the middle of a supposedly “upscale” café. Imagine that: a VIP outfit paired with a public-bathhouse habit! What refinement, what taste! A surreal moment that perfectly sums up our paradox — a society plastered with cosmetic polish on the outside, yet betrayed by its fingernails on the inside.

Ben Jelloun, then, wasn’t slandering his country. He just said, in elegant French, what the rest of us shout in vulgar Arabic: enough is enough.

His cry wasn’t an attack on the homeland, but an attempt to jolt it awake. He longs for Moroccans to be known again as polite and composed, not as a nation of people who excuse every misdeed under the tattered banner of “freedom.”

But if we keep dozing, mark my words: one day we’ll gather to pray the funeral prayer of the absent over our nation’s morals—a funeral with no corpse, for a country murdered by many of its own children’s bad manners and strangled by its rulers’ greed.

And the cure? Not rocket science. As Tahar Ben Jelloun himself suggested, enforce the law, punish the offenders, and—just maybe—teach citizens that society is not their private backyard. Until then, all the window dressing in the world won’t hide the rot.

The Decline of Morality Noureddine Boutahar

It is said that "to be truly human is to be moral". However, as one reflects upon the passage of time, it becomes evident that moral values are on a decline. Various factors contribute to this downturn, including aspects such as faith, upbringing, culture, environment, personal experiences, education, and relationships. The implications of this trend do not augur well for humanity if the descent continues unabated.

Let's begin by clarifying the concept of values. Values encompass the principles, beliefs, and ideals that shape an individual's decisions and actions. These deeply ingrained virtues play a significant role in influencing attitudes and behavior. Examples of such values include honesty, respect, integrity, responsibility, fairness, accountability, gratitude, courage, selflessness, patience, trust, and compassion.

Surprisingly, according to a survey by Nature, respondents in more than 60 nations expressed a prevailing belief that people are now less moral than they used to be. However, when asked to provide specific examples illustrating this perceived decline in morality, few could cite any. Nevertheless, having experienced life in both rural landscapes and urban jungles, traversed the globe from Europe to America, and coexisted with generations ranging from Gen X to Gen Alpha, I can personally debunk this claim.

Evidence of the decline in moral values is glaring in the transformation of our once-trustworthy neighbors into strangers, our close-knit circle of friends into mere acquaintances, and the ties with relatives evolving into unrecognizable connections. The erosion of moral standards further unfurls in the shocking incivility displayed by today's youth when contrasted with the courtesy of the Silent Generation, Baby Boomers, Gen Xers, and Millennials. It is palpable in the unparalleled rise of fraud that stains our increasingly greedy society and the unpleasant swelling of foul language echoing through our public spaces...

Consider embracing your convictions today and people will part ways with you as a scabby animal. Try holding unwaveringly onto your principles and you will get a wave of backbites and slander. The pursuit of authenticity may unveil heart-wrenching consequences like the risk of losing connections with friends, relatives, colleagues, and neighbors. The quest for originality may cause a bitter truth and disclose the opportunists, ingrates, and hypocrites. Being moral in today’s society is a tussle that hurts and aches and challenges our convictions.

My childhood experiences have imparted a valuable lesson. As a child accompanying my parents to the Souk, the weekly open market, I observed them discreetly concealing valuable purchases. Intrigued, I questioned this behavior, and my father imparted a profound lesson about considering the feelings of the less fortunate— the poor, the deprived, and even pregnant women with specific food cravings. Despite my semi-illiterate parents and completely illiterate grandparents lacking formal education, they were paragons of virtue. Their wisdom, compassion, selflessness, and tolerance weren't derived from the teachings of Aristotle, Ibn Miskawayh, Umberto Eco, Ibn Arabi, André Gide, Naim Qassem, Paul Kurtz, or Bertrand Russell. Instead, these virtues were deeply ingrained in them through the channels of observational learning, personal experience, and attentive listening.

In their turn, my parents and grandparents not only conveyed moral values through words but also stressed the importance of observational learning, exposing us to places where virtuous actions unfolded—such as Souks, public ceremonies, and family gatherings. The significance of family gatherings was underscored as pivotal moments for instilling these values, a tradition now scarce in the face of technological influence.

The lion's share of blame for our moral decline today lies with technology, from television to cellphones. The absence of family gatherings, once a cherished opportunity to share stories, traditions, and values, has become a rare occurrence. The repercussions of this decline are significant, leading to a breakdown of trust, a decline in empathy and compassion, a disregard for honesty and integrity, and a lack of accountability and obligation.

This snapshot of societal decay is not merely disheartening; it serves as a stark call for reflection and a fervent plea for a moral resurgence. Echoing Anne O'Hare McCormick's words, "The foundations of the world will be shaky until the moral props are restored." In essence, a society consistently compromising its moral values is fated to witness the erosion of trust and social cohesion, potentially descending into what Thomas Hobbes aptly termed "the war of all against all." The looming question is: What kind of society awaits us at the end of this tunnel if we persist in nurturing such vices?