Noor Chafouk | Rejecting aid and reclaiming agency

It was a move that may seem like a slip-up and caught a few off-guard, but Morocco's refusal of French aid was far more than mere diplomatic posturing. It was an audacious statement, one that not only challenges historical colonial narratives but also sets a precedent for nations eager to break free from their past and confront crises on their own terms. The quake, while a natural catastrophe, unraveled layers of Morocco's complex socio-political landscape intertwined with its former colonizer, France. Aid poured in, and gratitude was expressed. Yet, beneath the surface lay the age-old tension of post-colonial relationships, one must ask: was this offer of assistance purely benevolent, or was it tied to historical influence and debts? 

At first glance, the Morocco's refusal to accept aid might be chalked up to logistical issues. It's true that an influx of rescue teams, if uncoordinated, can sometimes cause more confusion than relief. The devastating earthquake of 2004, which left Morocco grappling with chaotic international aid, serves as a cautionary tale. The Moroccan government's statement on the need for well-coordinated assistance underscores this sentiment. However, to dismiss Morocco's decisions as merely pragmatic would be an oversimplification. The refusal to accept French aid, in particular, raises eyebrows, especially given the historical ties binding the two nations. 

For centuries, colonial history has been narrated through the lens of the colonizer. The powerful nations ‘helped,’ ‘civilized’, or ‘developed’ their colonies, often sidelining the stories, struggles, and resilience of the colonized. Post-independence, France's cultural and political influence lingered, often presenting Morocco and colonized countries as passive recipients of Western policies and as a victim in the narrative of colonial history. The French perspective historically underscored a power dynamic, implying an inherent inability for Moroccans and colonized countries to self-govern or to advocate for their rights without external influence. Morocco's decision to decline aid, however, pushes back against this narrative. For post-colonized countries, there is an instilled urgency to rewrite their histories, not from the perspective of being saved, but from one of empowerment, resistance, and self-determination. Their past might be intertwined with colonization, but our future is of our own making. 

Many historians and activists have strived for years to bring to light France's colonial misdeeds, be it the massacre of Algerians in 1961 or countless transgressions in other African colonies. Yet, the real shock isn’t merely the uncovering of these heinous acts but the persistent veil of denial draped by French institutions — government, media, and judiciary alike. The struggle has always been twofold: first, to reveal the truth, and second, to make France genuinely confront its colonial skeletons. 

When French President Macron decided to address the Moroccan population as a whole, with coined ideals of “solidarity” and “collective recognition” on his Twitter post, angry and indignant responses flooded the scene. The persistent stereotype of post-colonial nations as perpetually “emerging” or “developing” is becoming outdated. These countries aren't just emerging; they are asserting. They are not merely developing, but evolving on their own terms. 

The rejection of French aid is not merely a sign of Moroccan defiance; it's a larger statement to France and perhaps to the world. It signals that Morocco won't be strong-armed or swayed by erstwhile colonial powers. In a world trying to move past its colonial history, such actions resonate. They reverberate in the halls of power across Africa, where nations — from Niger to Mali to Burkina Faso — are carving out their destinies, sometimes at the cost of their relations with former colonizers. Morocco's refusal is a manifestation of a broader desire for decolonization in its full-fledged, visceral essence — refusing to play into France’s savior mentality and to mold a structure of autonomy palatable to its previous oppressors.

One cannot disregard the colonial specter that hovers over such moments of crisis. Humanitarian aid often comes loaded with the weight of history. When international powers step in to offer support, there's a fine line between genuine assistance and the age-old game of influence and soft power. It's not just about monetary policy or economic control. It's about narratives, influence, and the subtle ways old powers can exert themselves, even in the face of new realities. “It shouldn’t be about misunderstood national pride,” says Carl-Julius Cronenberg, a German military police. Yet, in the corridors of power, national pride and the narrative that accompanies it are strategic tools. It is no longer just about Macron or any singular political leader; it has seeped into the foundation of the French political establishment. The overt discrimination, the race to uphold so-called "French values" at the cost of alienating a significant minority, showcases a nation grappling with its colonial psyche. To use France’s aid is not an acceptance of help from another country but a message of complacency and dependency to the country that held them hostage. Even in the face of a natural disaster like the one Morocco is currently grappling with, there’s an underlying need to redefine and reclaim autonomy — not just in terms of governance, but in narratives and international relationships.

As François Audet, an expert in humanitarian crises, highlights, foreign aid often arrives with strings attached — a soft takeover. It’s no longer just about assistance; it's about agency. The move is emblematic of what's being termed the ‘decolonization of humanitarian aid.’ This drive towards a decolonial perspective is not a fleeting trend. It's a paradigm shift, redefining the nature of international relations. Morocco's rejection, when viewed through this lens, is less about a diplomatic snub and more about asserting agency in a world order desperate for rebalancing. 

Comedian Gad Elmaleh was asked to speak on Morocco's response and to address the supposed shameful act that came with denying France’s open arms by their knights in shining armor. To that, he did what is known as a ‘coup de gueule’, where he firmly states his opposition towards France’s paternalistic treatment of his home country. He staunchly denies his identity as a French-Moroccan migrant and reclaims his city of birth, Casablanca, to then call on the audience to shift their focus on how Moroccans united in solidarity instead of being taught how to engage in crisis response.  Morocco, and emerging colonized countries as a whole, are not children who need someone to hold their spoon for them to eat. More importantly, do not owe countries the complacency in leaving the events of the Protectorate to the past. The populations’ endeavor to mobilize and collaborate to recognize the “Forgotten People” of the Atlas and supplement the region with resources breaks the stigma of running to capture foreign aid.

In a world where the echoes of colonialism still reverberate through international relations, Morocco's stand serves as a potent reminder of the shifting sands of power and climate. It's not just about declining aid; it's about reclaiming agency and challenging the preconceived notions that have defined international relations for decades. So, as Morocco rebuilds from the rubble and as aid flows in, it's crucial to recognize that earthquakes, while shattering, also lay bare the strata of our histories. This beckons other nations to reflect, to evolve, and to envision a future where partnerships are built on mutual respect and understanding, not historical baggage. This isn't the end of a diplomatic episode; it's the beginning of a transformative era in global dynamics.

NOOR CHAFOUK is a College junior studying economics and political science from Dallas. Her email is noorsid@sas.upenn.edu.