In the summer of 2012, I did fieldwork on Moroccan Jews to understand the emigration of the community and how they perceived themselves in relation to Morocco. I was interested in understanding why the reasons Jews had left, were so ambiguous. My involvement was essential as my father’s parents are both Jews born and raised in Morocco. He, however, was born in France. In conversations we have, my father denies the fact he is ‘Moroccan’, which always used to disturb me. If his parents were, he was, wasn’t he? My other grandmother is American, and my mom considers herself American. So why is it that my father does not have the same reasoning, a similar attachment to his parents’ homeland? This feeling of detachment went beyond the fact that my father had not spent holidays there since his early childhood. But the fact that his parents, like many other Moroccan Jews of their community, had not taken their children to spend time in their country of origin was significant. I had never really understood why many Moroccan Jews I had met had induced an enigmatic sense about their identity and neither had I had comprehended why they had left Morocco. They had not been ‘kicked-out’ but their emigration had lasted several decades.
So my fieldwork started at home, like so much anthropology of the 21st century, and carried me to Spain and especially and more importantly, to Morocco. My ethnographic research focuses on oral interviews of men and women born around the 1930s and 1940s portrayed here by family relatives, their friends and people I met while traveling. I went to Spain where I stayed with Moroccan Jewish relatives and then travelled to Morocco, staying with Jews I had been put in contact with by my relatives.
Most anthropologists who have studied Morocco have not paid much attention to the Jewish community, almost only footnoting them or referring to them in a wider context (Driessen 1992:79). The history of the Jewish community in Morocco has, however, been observed in two very different historical perspectives. One positive point of view compares their condition with that of the Jews in Medieval and modern Europe, while the other contradicts this stance by considering the thirty years of migration out of the country as a pessimistic proof of the conflicting cohabitation of the two religious communities (Bensoussan 2012:113). My argument will be much less deterministic and through a historical and anthropological approach, I aim to give a better sense all together of what it was to be a Jew in Morocco, and what were the different experiences of it. Through this analysis, my aim is to understand and explain the building of Moroccan Jewish identity within its Diaspora
I. Historical Background
In the second half of the twentieth century, the Jewish communities living in eleven Arab countries emigrated to the Americas, Europe or Israel (Trigano 2009:9). Morocco was emptied of a large majority of its Jewish population although it was one of Morocco’s oldest and most important ethnic minorities (Baïda 2011:321). The community was the biggest Jewish community of the Arab world and even after its massive migration it remains the largest with about 3000 Jews (Stillman, 1979:78). Most live in the economic capital, Casablanca, and the majority have family abroad. I will first give a historical context to the Jewish condition in Morocco and what led to their departure. Though my research doesn’t solely involve context, I believe it is essential. It must as well be somewhat detailed to understand all the issues at play and to be able to refer to either events or processes later in my analysis.
Jews were categorized under Islam with the status of ‘dhimmi’’ which made them, as well as Christians, unequal to Muslims. Being People of the Book, they were however relatively tolerated in Morocco and other parts of the Arab world. They needed to pay a special tax established by Quranic law, the Jizya, which theoretically assured their protection by the Sultan (Levy 1980:110). They also had to follow certain social restrictions, such as living in strictly Jewish neighbourhoods, mellahs. These laws gave them a second-class status and participated in the sporadic humiliation of the Jewish community in Morocco (Levy 1980:113).
Some European travellers and diplomats had, since the 18th century, reported the difficult conditions of the Jews. William Lempriere described in 1791, ‘the Moors display more humanity to their beasts than to the Jews’ (1791:199) and in his report on Moroccan Jews in 1876, Joseph Halevy, described how Jews, compelled to walk barefoot around Mosques and everywhere outside the Mellah in some towns, were ‘’subject to the mockery of the Muslim population’ (cited in Trigano 2009:437).
The increasing interest of European governments in the Jewish community was mainly due to its influence in Moroccan trade and economy. Jews fulfilled economic necessities that were seen dishonourable by Islam such as money lending. Many worked in jewellery and metalwork because of the negative popular Moroccan superstition about metal and magic (Stillman 1979:85). Although these activities had made many Jews affluent, the majority of Moroccan Jews were poor. Those layers of the community lived from the charity of wealthier Jews and European philanthropists but were closer to the Muslim population.
Many Jews in Morocco descended from those forced to migrate from the Iberian Peninsula in 1492 and certain families had maintained the use of Spanish, which they had mixed with elements from Berber and/or Arabic and Hebrew languages. The different uses of languages between Muslims and Jews were very significant of the two communities. The Jews’ knowledge of several languages also influenced how Europeans perceived the community in their politics of interest within Morocco.
European private organisations started being actively involved in Moroccan politics in the late 19th century by especially pinpointing the Jewish conditions. The Alliance Israélite Universelle (AIU), created in Paris in 1860 by French intellectual Jews already considered Morocco a top priority in its ‘civilising mission’. The program aimed at the emancipation, education, social and moral progress of Jews and wanted to combat poverty and injustices many Jewish communities around the world suffered from (Leibovici 1984:46). In his case study of the AIU in the late 19th century, Laskier (1983:148) explains how the courses were based on the French secular educational system although they had to be combined at first with traditional Jewish studies, which had been essential to the Moroccan Jewish education until then. The AIU prioritized the teaching of French, as it was the diplomatic language of the Arab world and also ‘the language of exchange, of medicine and fashion’ (Laskier 1983:160). Additionally Laskier notes that multi-linguistic programs were organized in many schools and in addition to French and Hebrew some taught English because of the Moroccan trade with Britain and Spanish for those of Spanish descent and heritage (1983:160). The AIU emphasised European languages were the paths to emancipation and success and Arabic was not, in most schools, part of the program. The knowledge of several languages made Jews ‘the most indispensable commercial intermediaries between Muslims and Europeans’ (1983:163). Additionally the AIU brought new ways of thinking and promoted vocational or agricultural trainings to bring the Jewish community towards modern labour skills (Laskier 1983:156). It also discouraged the tradition of taking over the local family business and fostered the idea of leaving mellahs (Brown 1980:196). These elements meant that in the course of a few generations, layers of the Jewish community could not easily relate to their Muslim surroundings (1983:161).
Because of those several factors- knowledge and use of languages, economic and trading influences- European countries, especially France, Spain and Britain gave some Jews the status of “protégés”. This made Moroccan Muslims suspicious and distanced them from Jews. At the time, in between 1830 and 1848, France had conquered and colonised Algeria and this scared the Moroccan imaginary. Jews were accused of being European ‘agents’ due to their rapprochement with European diplomats and were subject to an intensification of violence (Laskier, 2008). This consequently made certain European countries even more involved.
In 1912, Morocco became a French protectorate in its centre and a Spanish one in the North and Saharan region. The modernization and Europeanization of the Jewish communities during the influential times of the AIU had already drastically modified the relations between Muslims and Jews. Colonisation further accentuated this by creating ‘different poles of attraction and identification’ (Bin-Nun, 2009:310). Their role as intermediary in trade, as well as the new status of protégés enabled the Jewish elite to enjoy several privileges and work for European industries and bank firms (Laskier, 1983:310). This emphasized the structural changes within the Jewish community and the tensions between the Jewish and Muslim communities.
To the displeasure of protected Moroccan Jews who had been hoping they would be granted citizenships similar to those granted to Algerian Jews by the Crémieux decree of 1870, it was in the French’s politics of interest to keep the progress of Muslim and Jewish communities at the same level, in education and elsewhere (Kenbib 2011:29). Although French schools were opened for Muslim children, they were not a success (Cohen 1980:179) and the Moroccan government opened its own schools, which taught modern Arabic and the traditions of Islam (Brown 1980:193). The new balance between the two communities threatened the jobs and positions Jews had acquired at the beginning of the protectorate (Laskier 1983:166).
However, we cannot talk of clear-cut tensions between the two communities at the start of the protectorate because Jews and Muslims alike had strong local attachments (Schroeter 2002:152). Moroccans identified with their towns, all of which had specific customs, traditions and local cuisine. Nevertheless, the creation of better communication and means of transport between cities facilitated the development of ideas such as a Muslim Moroccan nationality and a single Moroccan Jewry (Levy 1980:124).
The protectorate brought capitalist forms of banking and modern forms of businesses with new machineries. This consequently disrupted the traditional functions of the majority of Jews and the equilibrium and division of labour between Jews and Muslims were considerably disrupted. (Bin-Nun 2009:304)
Additionally, the idea of modernity brought to the Jewish community by the French and the AIU contrasted highly with the typical Moroccan environment, which colonial and Zionist propaganda later emphasised as ‘backwards’ (Levy 1980:131). On the other hand however, Jews were affectionately closer to Muslims as the majority of ‘Pieds-Noirs’ were racist and xenophobic (Bin-Nun 2009:307). The implementation of the Vichy racist and segregationist laws during the 1940s’ had accentuated this. Colonial relationships contrasted considerably with the support and protection the Sultan gave Jews, which he is famous for: ‘I have no Jews to give you, only Moroccans’. Some Jews were also able to associate with and befriend Muslims in certain political parties (mostly socialist or communist) where they united against colonialism.
In the last decade of the protectorate, the idea of national independence developed in all layers of the Muslim community. Though it created a ‘patriotic awakening’ of some of the Jewish elite, the future of the Jewish community in Morocco was questioned and Moroccan nationalist leaders and the World Jewish Congress increasingly discussed the issue.
Several reasons can be attributed to the uncertainty of a Jewish future in Morocco. The country was increasingly close to the Arab league, which was created in 1945 by Nasser and promoted the independence and unity of Arabic countries. The league was strongly opposed to the creation of the State of Israel in the Middle East and this was problematic for the Jewish community of Morocco, as migrations to what was then called ‘Eretz Israel’ occurred since the nineteenth century. Moreover, the community was targeted to populate Israel, as it was the biggest in the world and Israel needed a strong demography due to the resistance it was receiving from its neighbouring countries.
Common assumptions were made in Morocco between Zionists and Jews and some Jewish businesses and services were boycotted in the months following the creation of Israel (Baïda 2011:324). This intensified Muslim and Jewish relations and Zionist agents stressed the idea that Jews would be increasingly in danger when the French left (Levy 1980:139). These national and trans-national elements participated in marginalizing the Jewish community who, while Moroccan national sentiment evolved towards an Islamic community, did not comprehend exactly where it belonged
The first collective migrations to Israel started at its creation (1948) and were clandestine, since made illegal in Morocco. At the time, the Sultan Mohammed V made a public speech in which he discussed the necessity for Morocco to protect its Jews while urging Jews not to publicly manifest their solidarity to the state of Israel (Trigano 2009: 315). He reminded them that they were Moroccans first and he spoke against the ‘Zionist aggression’ influencing their identity. Nevertheless, in between 1948 and 1949, already about 22 900 Jews had left for Israel (Baïda 2011:324). Tensions rose in the Muslim population and riots occurred in June 1948, in Oujda and Jerrada during which several Jews were killed (Bin-Nun 2009:315). Those violent events were collectively remembered by the Moroccan Jews and created an atmosphere of fear within the community (Bin-Nun 2010:256).
The independence of Morocco in 1956 restructured the state and community, hence the Jewish status as well. Jews acquired the same legal and social rights as Muslims and some were even put in high responsibility posts like Leon Benzaquen who was part of the first government, which was a first in an Arabic government (Boubia 2008; Bensimon 1980:242). Nonetheless, as Baida argues, “the integration process lasted only during the initial euphoria of independence” (2011:330). Francophonie, brought to the Muslim population and administrative system during the protectorate, received a very ambivalent reaction after the independence (Alalou 2006:408). Nationalists emphasized the necessity for linguistic homogenisation; an integral process of nation building (Hylland 1992:315) and Morocco went through a process of Arabisation of education and administration. This transition was difficult for the Jewish minority who had been accustomed to European ways for several decades. The Arabisation of Morocco emphasised once again the gap between the Muslim and Jewish communities.
Additionally, the integration of Morocco to the Arab league in 1958 was problematic. Zionist newspapers, Journal de Jerusalem or Le Monde Juif, reported pogroms, riots or the expulsion of Jews from Egypt, Libya, Yemen, Iraq and Egypt and this continued to scare the Moroccan Jewish imagination (Bel Aiba et al 2004). Morocco’s policies became stricter and foreign aid, which had helped sustain the Jewish community for a century, was made illegal (Bin-Nun 2009:323). The rupture of postal and phone contact with Israel in 1959 when Morocco made the decision to join the Arab Postal Union also increased the atmosphere of fear and mistrust within the Jewish community (Bin-Nun 2009:322).
By the 1960s, Morocco was seen as an undesirable environment for Jews who increasingly and in bigger numbers wanted to leave (Bin-Nun 2009:333).[1] However, until 1961 migrations were illegal. Morocco was generally against the mass emigration of Jews and feared it would de-stabilize the administration, commerce, and economy. While the left wing thought it would expose Morocco to international criticisms, the Istiqlal emphasized that wealthy Jews would leave to fund Israel’s economy and reinforce its workforce and army. This, it was believed, would consequently disrupt Morocco’s relations with the Arab league (Bin-Nun 2010:259).
In February 1961, the beloved king Mohammed V died and was succeeded by his son Hassan II who concluded a secret financial agreement between Israel and Morocco. Israel would pay 250 dollars in cash per person, in Geneva, for the first 50 000 migrants. In August, Hassan II declared the right for Jews to leave the country, though they were forbidden at first to go to Israel. Though secret, those migrations were obviously noticed by Muslims who saw their neighbours or business partners’ leave overnight. There were either misunderstood or seen as treason (Dwyer 1982:123).
Another wave of migrations can be noted following the Six-Days war in 1967. By 1972 there were no more than 50 000 Jews living in Morocco (Bin-Nun 2010:255). Levy argues that the Yum Kippur Israeli-Arabic war in 1973 did not have much more influence and that remaining Jews were already ready to leave (1980:144). I see it though as the straw that broke the camels’ back as there are now about 3000 Jews left in Morocco, and numbers keep decreasing
Though this context is dense and encompasses many elements and events, it is necessary to have this knowledge to understand the history of Moroccan Jews and make sense of it. I have attempted, hopefully with success, to show the different influences on the community and their impact on the Jews’ relations with the Muslim community. Moroccan Jews were never fully integrated and involved in Moroccan life and politics. The status of dhimmis limited their belonging to Morocco and created fully-fledge Jewish communities, which were administrated by and took care of themselves. The AIU and the protectorates Europeanized the community as a whole and participated in a general feeling of superiority over the typical Muslim Moroccan environment, which still seems quite relevant today. The Arabisation of the country was a difficult step for Jews who did not associate and have the same prospects as the Muslim population. The migration out of Morocco further emphasized the ambiguous position of Moroccan Jews and the Judeo-Arabic wars in the Middle East have, though not always publicly, deconstructed relations between Jews and Muslims.
Several aspects of the multi-ethnic and religious life remain however unclear. Did Jews and Muslims have any contact, or where they completely segregated? Why did most Jews decide to leave if they had not been threatened or expulsed? And what are the conditions now of those Jews who have remained? I will now observe how Moroccan Jews have created and maintained their identity through space.
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II. Domestic and Urban Spaces
Under the status of dhimmis, the right to property outside mellahs was ambiguous and there were no clear rules whether Jews could or not own agricultural land (Lahrmaid 2011:59). They paid a special tax to local authorities or would exchange the dung of their livestock for its use. They could however own property in the mellah, an urban walled quarter strictly for Jewish inhabitants where all their necessities and services were located, and which most towns possessed (Miller et al 2001:310). Researches on the first mellah (Levy 1980:114; Stillman 1979:78; Brown 1980:188) have been unsure of the date so I will locate it between the 13th and 15th century. While Stillman (1979:78) and Brown (1980:188) talk of the tragedy it was for Jews who did not expect it, Levy (1980:115) sees it as a logical step for each community for cultural, communitarian and religious reasons. Mellahs were outside residential and commercial Muslim areas but usually still inside medinas. They were often built close to the royal palace and Miller, et al (2001:310) argues this closeness was due to the dependency of the Jewish communities to the King and vice versa. However Levy debated it was to isolate or guard them from the Muslim population (1980:311). Mellahs were both a physical and social separation and Jews and Muslims cohabitated without assimilating (Levy 1980:323). Khatibi argued that mellahs served the purpose and helped ‘preserve and protect’ the Jewish difference (1988:9). Indeed, ‘’in other respects oppressed, [Jews] are allowed the free-exercise of their religion” noted Lemprière (1791:201). There was only one main street, from which dead end roads left so people would literally be on top of each other’s business and personal day-to-day life and activities (Khatibi and Dana 1988:7).
The isolation of Jews did not however sever relations between the two communities completely. Many Jews still worked inside the medina and Muslims would go to the mellah if they needed to fix or buy cloth, translate a letter, or for a drink. Butchers, essentially linked to both religions, worked in the same gurna, though in separate quarters, until 1889. They would often exchange their meat considering its quality, as kosher diet is stricter than hallal and Muslims could eat kosher meat (Holden 2011:152). Especially in towns that did not have a mellah, relationships between Jews and Muslims were habitual, especially within the domestic space. My informant Allègre told me it was a custom on Sabbath to cook the Dafina, a traditional sefardi dish especially for the occasion, in the common oven.
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Food is an essential part of individual’s lives, collective memory and transmission. It is a predominant aspect of Moroccan heritage. It was, in spite of the different religious diets, an important element to inter-religious and cultural interactions and seemed to be the principal factor to Muslim and Jewish relationships. Women assisted each other in the making of dishes on certain occasions and it was not rare for Muslim women to heat up the Dafina for Sabbath or for Jewish women to make cakes and bread for their neighbours’ ftour of Ramadan. Sonia Azagury was making with her Muslim maid dozens of little breads for her Muslim neighbours and for 45 builders who were working next door under intense heat while fasting, when I came to meet her at her house. This reflects that Jewish and Muslim proximity was not only created and but is still maintained through food and festivities. The Mimouna celebration and feast also demonstrates this. On the evening after Passover, Maghrebi Jews opened their house to family, friends and neighbours with whom they shared delicacies (Driessen 1992:105). Jews would usually give meat pies while Muslims would offer foods related to the end of Passover such as flour and yeast for the next day. It was a joyful inter-religious event, which has recently been adopted in Israel too. What is interesting when observing the interactions around food is that the knowledge of what can be eaten and what cannot, in what order, etc, made Jews and Muslims in Morocco almost specialists of each others customs and traditions (noted as well in Bahloul 1992).
Life in the mellah is now very different though and it is surprising when walking around medinas to stumble upon its streets, which are more silent than others and which have not been properly maintained. If a tourist is not looking for particular signs of Jewish presence, he or she will probably not notice the differences between those streets and the Muslim ones. If one looks attentively though, stars of David on the frames of most doors are distinguishable in the mellah. The traveller might also be surprised by the state of some old Jewish houses, in Essaouira for example, which are completely in ruins and have apparently been used by squatters. Some beds and furniture have not been taken away and have just been left rotting. I was surprised as to why the state and the Moroccan population had left these buildings in such conditions and why they had not arranged for people to live in them. When I asked several Muslims who lived around and my Jewish informant in Essaouira, they told me that at first, poor Muslims had taken over the space to make it their home but officials had evicted them on the grounds Jews who still owned the buildings might come back in a short period of time. During his fieldwork in the Sous, Dwyer’s informant told him that in their hurry to leave many Jews had sold their houses for 20 to 30 thousands rials, which was nothing, and Muslims who had been able to afford it had been lucky (1982: 123). My informants Sonia and Raquel had told me over lunch that they had been offered several times to sell their homes in Tangier even though they had no intention to leave. According to them, Muslims saw buying off Jewish property as good luck. Nevertheless Dwyer’s informant Faqir Muhammad talked about the necessity for a Muslim to purify a house he bought from a Jew (1982:127). Notwithstanding, the conditions of mellahs and of Jewish properties are very different from those of Jewish cemeteries.
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Though most my informants are people I met through my family, I did meet Jews in Morocco on my own, usually coincidentally, and almost always in or through cemeteries. Though my own interest of research obviously brought me to visit them, Jewish cemeteries are very often noted on Moroccan maps or on signs in the streets. There is one in almost if not all Moroccan towns and the fact those are intact and taken care of fifty years after the emigration of most Jews is significant of the community’s importance in Morocco. Graveyards are engaging as they are the place where people deal with their dead and their history. They have become an interest of study in the aftermath of the wars and holocausts of the twentieth century. I will observe here how the omnipresence in the landscape of Jewish life, especially in the maintenance of cemeteries, contrasts with the lack of sense of belonging to Morocco Jews in the Diaspora seem to have developed.
In her study of Algerian Graveyards, Judith Scheele argues that cemeteries are created by and for societies to remember themselves. They create ideals of historical and social continuity and permanence. Being an ‘integral part of the local landscapes’, they are physical and emotional spaces as well as being symbolic (2006:860). They are the physical construction of a country’s history and can therefore be politically and symbolically manipulated (2006:863). What is interesting is that nothing was changed to the presence of Jewish cemeteries in Morocco and they continue to be taken care of, not only by the Jewish community and its affiliations in the Diaspora but also by the Moroccan state. The question arises of whom the cemeteries belong to and whom they are taking care for. There aren’t any, or at least many, young Jews to maintain them and there are only a handful of local Jews remaining to visit them. Members of the Muslim community are hired to guard them and one has to summon the guardian to enter the locked cemetery. They usually asked me what I wanted and what I was there for but it wasn’t clear to me whether they were strict on people coming in because they usually let me in after I said I was Jewish and they did not pay attention to me while I was inside. The fact that Jewish cemeteries are guarded is significant of the politics involved in maintaining them. Pierre Nora (1989) calls ‘lieux de mémoire’ these embodiments of memory that give a sense of historical continuity. Nora notes these sites, here cemeteries, are especially important for minorities who could be forgotten by the official history of a state. Through those spaces a minority is able to create a functional, symbolic and material presence in the landscape (1989:12/19). The cemeteries are here important to commemorate what is left of Jewish tradition and life in Morocco. However they are ambiguous as the history of Moroccan Jewry is only quickly mentioned in public schooling and the absence of Jews is noticeable. This contrasts with the physical presence of numerous Jewish sites within the Moroccan landscape.
In the 1970s’, Hassan II’s government invited all Moroccan Jews who wished to come back to do so and this could reflect why the authorities are keen in taking care of their cemeteries. Also, since the 2003 bombings in Casablanca that destroyed the most popular Jewish club, security has been reinforced in all Jewish places (Ben Simon, 2003). King Mohammed VI, like his predecessors, was a key figure in reassuring the community. He even financed the rebuilding of the club and came to see the aftermath on the next day, though no Jew had been harmed. This demonstrates the important position of the remaining Jews and why efforts are made to create historical continuity for them.
As well, Morocco because of its proximity to Europe has been an important site of tourism in the last twenty years for Europeans and also for many Jews of the Diaspora who come back to enjoy the sun and sea and some, to participate in pilgrimages. Pilgrimages are an important aspect of the hybridity of Moroccan culture. During the years following the independence of Morocco, they were formulated into a framework of ‘authentic national tradition’ for both religions and became a proof of ‘Maroccanness’ (Kosansky, 2011:341/43). The venerations of local saints, tsadikim, and pilgrimages to their shrines on the anniversary of their death, hillulot, were ancient traditions in Morocco but proliferated surprisingly during the end of the protectorate, especially with the amelioration of transport and communication. Jews and Muslims shared certain saints and this was not seen as incompatible due to similarities between cosmologies, hagiographic writings and of certain rituals present in Judaism and Islam (Kozansky, 2011:341). It is however not of custom in neither Islam nor Judaism to ‘idolise’ saints, and is therefore somewhat typically Moroccan. Schroeter saw the closeness of such customs and cultural interactions as evidence of a common history though both communities usually disapprove this (2002:160).
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While visiting the synagogue and the cemetery in Fez I encountered Edmond Mimoun Gabay, a prominent figure of the remaining Moroccan Jewry as he cleaned, registered and now takes care of the 12 thousands tombs of the Jewish cemetery, which was built in 1600. At the end of my interview, he gave me candles to light ‘for good luck’ on the tombstone of Saint Solika, a Jewish girl who was beheaded in 1834 after having been accused of apostasy to Islam, and who is still the source of an important pilgrimage. Her story has been an important marker of religious differences and she is a celebrated historical figure in Moroccan Jewry. The morality of her tale has been passed on throughout generations (Azagury, 2011:191). Her tombstone is clearly recognizable because of the tall white dome above it, which dominates the masses of little white tombs packed across the cemetery. The dome is a feature of most shrines across North Africa, and this proves the mingling of Judeo and Arabic culture in North African history. Though I had never heard of her from my family, Sol proved to be an interesting topic of conversation in Morocco. Her tomb has become the source of pilgrimage for both Muslims and Jews, especially women, for whom she has become a saint of women’s issues (Vance, 2011:234). As well the idea of loyalty to one’s religion and community represented through Solica seem to be pillars of both communities.
I have shown in this part that even though Jews were in a separate neighbourhood there were still some cultural interactions between Jews and Muslims, especially evolving around food and the domestic space. Both religions were in some ways adapted to fit the broader Moroccan culture, hence the similarities of cuisines and the success and maintenance of similar, if not the same, pilgrimages. The preservation of such events and the maintenance of Jewish cemeteries are expressive of the Morocco’s self- image and politics vis-à-vis the Jewish community, its Diaspora, and Europe. However, the neglect over some old mellahs is equivocal of the future of Moroccan Jewry and of the urbanization of Moroccan cities. By living together and separate from the Muslim population, Jews had the opportunity to maintain their culture, customs, traditions, oral myths, and languages. They were able to manage their own institutions and educational system and those were essential elements of the community. I will now discuss reasons why many Moroccan Jews within the Diaspora do not feel genuinely Moroccan and have not transmitted to their children a sense of belonging to the country. I will observe through language, ideas of difference and the process of transmission how Moroccan Jews have created their own cultural identity.
III. Identity through language and transmission
The use of several languages in both oral and archival history is an obstacle when researching Moroccan Jews. Moroccan Jews usually alternate between languages, and use Spanish, French, and Arabic depending on the situation and whom they are talking to. My informants in Tangier, Sonia and Rachel, spoke Spanish to each other combined with French, which was probably due to my presence, and spoke Arabic to Sonia’s help, a Muslim girl. Sonia also speaks fluent English because her children immigrated to the United States. Out of all my informants living in Morocco, most knew basic Arabic, which enables them to shop and ask for directions. Only a very few spoke it fluently or not at all. The ones who did speak Arabic learnt it from their neighbours or the maids that worked for their families when they were young. Arabic was as well necessary in business with Muslims. Luna, who does not speak Arabic at all, explained that in some areas like Tetuan, everyone spoke Spanish even Muslim ‘muchachas’ so Arabic wasn’t necessary. It is however important to note that Jews are now a clear minority and that therefore most of the 3000 that still live in Morocco can and need to converse in, at least, a basic Arabic.
The development of languages in the Jewish community is very expressive of the community itself and of its relationships with both Muslims and Europeans. In their case, the one people one language Western national ideology cannot be applied and is problematic as Jews spoke several languages. The ones they spoke depended on where they were from, what schools they studied at, and their social and economic background. This was the result of many influences and politics of domination in which European intervention, through the instruction of languages, was the matrix of many changes in the Jewish community (drawn from Woolard and Schieffelin 1994:61).
By identifying with Europe, Jews were as well and in certain cases still are, affected by how European medias depict Islamic countries and the Arab world. Zionist agents had also participated in scaring the Moroccan Jewish imaginary since the creation of Israel (Bel Aiba et al, 2004). This is mentioned in several interviews carried out by the psychologist Fanny Mergui, which mentioned the efficient propaganda of the Zionist organization, which spoke particularly of the lack of future for Jewish children in Morocco (1980:270).
The negative reaction of the Moroccan majority towards French at the independence could also be a leading factor to their choice of language, and identification. The restructuration of Morocco was problematic for many Jews who could lose their privileged position to Muslims in liberal professions and public services (Bin-Nun, 2009:312). As Arabic language was essential to the state after the independence, we can deduce that the fact Jews didn’t speak it very well participated in their, possibly involuntary, exclusion. Additionally, the Europeanization of the community since the 19th century had enhanced their international abilities and network. It had as well enabled a few to obtain European citizenships and those were able to leave Morocco.
Nevertheless, the migration of the community out of Morocco cannot only be understood in the context of languages, of different identification and ideas of modernity. We cannot think of ‘sudden’ collective migrations without looking at the wider context of migrations that started during the late 19th century. In her case study of Tetuan, Leibovici shows that famine and the spread of cholera in the 1880s had pushed AIU graduates to leave their towns for Spain and Algeria (1984:124/127). Some had as well left for the Americas, mostly to Argentina, Brazil and Venezuela and those Diaspora communities continued to grow during the 20th century (1984:203). Mair Levy, an AIU teacher in Tetuan in the 1890s’ spoke of the fact children were going to school and studying with the ambition to go abroad and make fortune. They left young, around 14 and this was encouraged by parents and within villages. Levy estimated that out of the 6000 Jews living in the mellah of Tetuan, about 100 left each year from the 1890s’. He attributed the success of those migrations to the fact that Jews helped each other out abroad and that few came back (Levy cited in Leibovici, 1984:287/292). With the establishment of the protectorate and the consequent diminishment of possibilities and traditional businesses, a high amount of Jews migrated from rural towns to urban cities in seek of work (Bin-Nun, 2009:304). Those interior migrations have been analysed by the geographer André Adam as having a definitive character compared to those of Muslims. Entire Jewish families would migrate to bigger towns and completely break contact with their former villages and neighbours. He observed that Jews that moved to Casablanca did not seem nostalgic of the transition and of their previous lives (Adam 1968:305). At the time as well, the Jewish élite started leaving the designated space of the Mellah for apartments they got offered in the French ‘Ville Nouvelle’ (Miller et al, 2001:310).
These gradual developments, the ways Jews envisioned modernity through European languages and the growth of Moroccan Jewish communities abroad were important factors that permitted the idea of collective migrations to brew. Nevertheless, this does not reflect nor explain why Jews did not leave at the same time, but in several decades. I will discuss this issue by analysing it somewhat linguistically.
Code switching in the Moroccan Jewish community is, as I have mentioned, still very common. Youssi describes a constant switching between French and Arabic in the Amar kosher butcher and the Norbert bakery in Casablanca, which hire Muslim employees (Youssi, 2012). This hiring of Muslims, which I have also noted in cemeteries and about my informants’ maids, is essential as the Jewish community is in very small numbers and elderly and therefore needs care from the Muslim population. It is one of the biggest interactions left and during which most of the code switching happens. In the two exclusively Jewish care homes I stayed at for several days, it was fascinating to see how patients conversed with the Arabic nurses and cooks. It was a very creative use of language that combined approximately three languages. In her observation on code switching in Algeria, Bahloul (1992) saw it as a temporal transfer, Arabic referencing old practices and usages, while French was the language of the present. She saw the alternation as a ‘bridge’ between different periods of times. The situation is however different in Morocco as Muslims help Jews in essential aspects of the community, guarding their dead, taking care of the elderly and even sometimes, washing and purifying the deceased in the traditional Jewish ways before burial. It is therefore logical that Jews use Arabic and that they have appropriated words and linguistic instruments from their Moroccan environment almost as a reference point to space and belonging. What they remember seems to go through the collective memory of Moroccan society, while still being mediated by their own Jewish historical consciousness and culture (drawing from Halbwachs, 1992:51; Lambek and Antze, 1996:248).
On the other hand, the contrary can be reflected in the Moroccan Jews of the Diasporas who have continued the process of acculturation abroad. Most families have kept a multi-linguistic heritage but the majority has not transmitted Arabic to their children and grandchildren born abroad. Older generations do not use it to converse between themselves, as they used it mostly to talk with Muslims. It is not surprising as well because the eldest generations of Moroccan Jews left in the world had an European education and have been raised thinking the ‘West’ is a better, modernised place. This was implied by several of my informants who mentioned that they moved so that their descendants would be born in a free country. In their adaptation to European, American, South American or Israeli environment, Moroccan Jews dropped Arabic language, sometimes completely, which symbolised something they seemed to have been ‘escaping’. This is communicated by the fact that, ‘although immersed in the Arabic language and culture, most Middle Eastern Jews did not define themselves as ‘Arabs’” and have not transmitted the idea to their children (Schroeter, 2002:151). Why my father, as an example, has not been raised thinking he was Moroccan is now better understandable. Although my grandfather was raised in Morocco and speaks fluent Arabic, he never taught it to my father. On the other hand, Spanish and French had also always been part of our family culture and tradition. While my grandfather’s family migrated to Spain in the 1960s and my father’s maternal family to Venezuela around the same time, my dad grew up speaking Spanish and visiting his family in Spanish speaking countries, language he consequently taught us within the French environment we grew up in.
I will now observe, through the concept of cultural identity, ways that made the Jewish distanciation to their Moroccan environment able to happen and this will help us reflect on how they perceive their identity.
Although the Jewish community in Morocco was separated by towns, prayed in different synagogues, and was divided between Megorashim those of Spanish heritage and Toshavism, the more indigenous Jews; there were above all clear distinctions between Jews and Muslims (Miller et al, 2001:313). It was first of all a religious difference and though there were some hybridity in pilgrimages and within food, there were strict rules and customs of separation. They did not follow the same celebrations, which were central elements to both religions, followed specific calendars and created and reinforced kinship ties. Kinship is a necessary criterion for individual and collective identity, and people who are not part of the kinship group or the extended community are considered ‘others’. Kinship in Morocco was reinforced by the fact that inter-religious marriages were ‘forbidden’ and created scandal. This is still relevant today and when I asked Edmond Gabay if it did happen he was shocked and said ‘no, no, no!’ exactly what Fariq Muhammad replied to Dwyer (1982:126). Additionally the maintenance in the Jewish community of different languages, some of which the majority of Muslims could not understand, constituted difference.
Ideas of distinctiveness between the two communities were also and still are rooted in the two different collectively shared historical experiences and cultural codes (Hall 1993:223). Cultural identity is created through the idea of difference where “the others are held to represent lifestyles and values which are regarded as undesirable”(Hylland 1991:139). These differences are emphasized in Morocco by contrasting myths, memories and folklore. The interpretations of Solika’s tale, mentioned in pilgrimages, are representative of this idea of cultural difference. Her story has been shaped into a myth with the intention of creating powerful symbolic ideas about the two communities. In the Jewish version, Solika made friends with her Muslim neighbour, Tahra Masmoudi, who claimed Sol had converted to Islam. Sol refuted this and apostasy being a crime in Islam theoretically punishable by death, she was condemned by the local pasha to be put into a dungeon to die. However, the sultan heard of her beauty and made her travel to Fez. He offered her jewels, silk, marriage and love but she refused. She was therefore beheaded on a public square, affirming beforehand ‘Hebrea naci y Hebrea quero morir’[2]. Azagury (2011) explained that the tale reinforced the idea of different symbolic, social and affective spaces. It also emphasized the necessary separation of the two religious groups.
In the Muslim tale accounted by Knafo (2011:227), Sol had a difficult relationship with her family, which drove her to fall in love with her Muslim neighbour Taleb. Though both were engaged to someone of their faith, they ran away and got married to each other. The only way they could do so however was by Sol converting, which she did. A month later, Taleb was killed and Sol was alone. She tried to go back to the synagogue but was followed inside by Muslims who did not tolerate her apostasy. Jews did not either and stoned her, though she was saying she was ‘home’. After the outrage of both communities, Muslims beheaded her. In this version too, inter-religious marriages are represented with awful consequences. The fact that both versions emphasize this shows the importance of religious separation in Morocco and Solika’s story can be seen as a cautionary tale against religious transgression and temptation. It also serves the purpose of strengthening the Jewish community on the idea of religious loyalty.
Such things as tales and myths participate in communicating differences, in this case, religious. They create social formation and associations and reassemble communities around the ideas of what is authentically theirs and what is not. Indeed, identity is necessarily positioned in the lines of one’s individual and collective perception of difference (Jenkins, 2008:18). In Morocco, difference is emphasized in terms of religion and seems blurred in with identity (Grosrichard, 2009). Identity is as well constructed through the idea of ethnicity, history, lifestyle, occupation, etc. Therefore, it is not too surprising Jews in Morocco do not consider themselves as having the same identity as Muslims in Morocco as they do not share most of the characteristics cited above. Nevertheless, it would be too deterministic to confine people to one identity and many Moroccan Jews consider themselves somewhat Moroccan even though they do not follow the dominant religious mainstream and even if they live abroad and consider themselves French, Spanish, or else, as well. In this case, identity is not necessarily implied in terms of religion or language, but can refer to space, or broader culture. For example, “giving up a language may not mean giving up a culture” and Moroccan Jews have kept other elements of their Moroccan heritage such as food, traditional wedding celebrations, etc (Urciuoli, 1995:531).
The fact that Moroccan Jewish identity varies and that one can consider him or herself either Moroccan, Jewish, European, or mixed is not an issue if one considers that culture and identity are constantly created and re-created and this through different agencies and influences (Hylland Eriksen, 1991:127). Still, the Moroccan Jewish identity contrasts with the typical Muslim Moroccan and is constantly reaffirmed. Identity, understood in relation to the other, is also emphasized by education and mass medias where people learn to identity with an imagined and mythically created community of ‘the same kind’ of people (Hylland Eriksen, 2001:61). Schools and medias in Morocco after the independence taught the Muslim population about the Arab world and Islam but didn’t stress the multi-ethnic past of the country. While they identified better with the Arab league, Moroccan Jews were taught to think of themselves in a more Western and international mind set. Simultaneously, after the Holocaust and the creation of Israel, a global nationalist Jewish identity was promoted, commemorating the suffering of Jews around the world and emphasizing the necessity for solidarity and unity. Additionally, exile plays a crucial role in the historical consciousness and construction of Jewishness and this throughout generations (Raz-Krakotzkin, 2007:531/36). Therefore Jewish identification is not inevitably in the lines of regional belonging, which is an integral part of nationalisms, and this enables Jews to associate with several cultures or nations.
Moroccan Jewish identity has been recreated for the purpose of different generations and in different contexts. The way the first Diaspora generation related to Morocco varied between individuals, families and Moroccan Jewish communities. The different places where the Jews settled after migrating (France, South America, Israel, etc) also had an impact on their social behaviour in their country of adoption. Taking the example in France, it almost seems like there was a tendency of Arabic Jews to deny or not mention their Arabic origin. This may be related to the violent process of decolonization of some North-African countries such as Algeria. It also probably is due to the fact that Moroccan Jews were taught to think of themselves, since the 19th century, as somewhat ‘European’ in the Muslim environment they lived in. As well, raising children in another country changes one’s set of identification. Indeed, the different education, associations and identification of the second generation in a Diaspora change certain aspects of the parents’ identity too. In the case of Moroccan Jews who had a European education and spoke French amongst themselves even before migrating, raising French children in France lead and contributed all the more in developing their sense of belonging to the country and culture. In the case of the second generation, those who were raised in France, the transmission of narratives about Morocco and their identity is consequently very different than those of their parents. They have not lived in a Muslim country as a religious minority and they have a different relation to religion having been brought up in a secular environment. As well, due to the collective, though often personal, choice to leave Morocco, the first generations of Moroccan Jews to leave did not usually speak very optimistically of Morocco to their children. ‘Constant humiliation’ while living in Morocco was mentioned to me in several interviews; though it has not been the most important aspect observed or felt during my fieldwork. Nevertheless, although integrating the French, or other cultural mainstream, this first generation kept elements of its traditional culture, which has selectively been transmitted to the second generation. It is however up to personal choices to establish what one will or will not transmit to their offspring. Though my father has never been taught Arabic, language his parents knew, but speaks Spanish fluently, he was raised eating sugar in his couscous, a Tangerine custom. I on the other hand, have not been brought up speaking Spanish constantly, due to the fact my mother is not of the same background and my grandparents live abroad, but I have been shown how to make traditional Jewish Moroccan dishes. Although this may be due to my interest in my heritage, it is also due to the fact that I am a woman and a first child- hence, the traditional bearer of the family’s culture.
We can therefore see that migration and the consequent transmission of narratives recreate identity and follow a socio-political/historical and environmental pattern. Identity being a process, changeable and created, we can say accordingly to what we have observed, that Moroccan Jewish identity is hybrid and combines different times, places and traditions altogether.
European countries got involved in Moroccan politics from the 19th century onwards, and affiliated with the Jewish communities, which already spoke European languages. The growing influence of European presence and the somewhat secular European education Jews received from AIU schools Europeanized the community as a whole. Jews were consequently distanced from their Muslim environment. Although the Muslim community went through a similar modernization process during the years of the protectorate, the traditional relations between Muslims and the Jewish minority were considerably disrupted. Moreover, the Arabisation of Morocco at its independence distanced Jews from the broader Moroccan population. However, although Jews and Muslims were physically and culturally separated for centuries and this also during colonisation, interactions still took place, especially in domestic spaces. These interactions have created hybrid and inter-religious aspects of social life in Morocco, and Jewish and Muslim food, events and pilgrimages are very similar. Nevertheless, the emigration of most the community in the second half of the 20th century distanced Moroccan Jews from Moroccan Muslims and after migration, Jews set aside many elements of their Moroccan heritage. The majority does not speak Arabic and has not transmitted it, though it is an essential aspect of Morocco and it is necessary for the remaining Jews there to speak it. Accordingly, the sets of identification and associations to Morocco are very different for the minority who has stayed there and is taking care of by Muslims, than for those who have left and have reconstructed a life elsewhere. This study has shown that identity is a complex and confused process. It is an individual, collective, spatial, religious and cultural issue and therefore within one ‘cultural identity’ there can be many different ones, driven by various and specific agents.
Bibliography
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Youssi, Yasmine, Les juifs marocains, plus grande communauté juive du monde arabe, Telerama, June 2012, Available at: http://www.demainonline.com/2012/06/30/les-juifs-marocains-plus-grande-communaute-juive-du-monde-arabe
Interviews
Anita Bensadon Benarroch, July 25 and 26th 2012, Madrid
Michael Bensadon, July 27th 2012, Madrid
Sonia Cohen de Azagury, August 3rd 2012, Tangier
Rachel Muyal, August 3rd 2012, Tangier
Luna Benzáquen, August 4th 2012, Tangier
Edmond Mimoun Gabay, August 6th 2012, Fez
Allègre (Joyce) Zagury, August 7 and 9th 2012, Casablanca
Simon Zagury, August 8th 2012, Casablanca
Ney Bensadon, March 15, 17, 18 and 27th 2013, Paris
Carlos Levy, February 26th 2013, Paris
Images
Rue des Synagogues, Tangier: once a very lively street, heart of Tangerine religious Jewish life
Sonia Cohen de Azagury had made some bread for her Muslim acquaintances’ ftour of Ramadan, Tangier, August 3rd 2012
Jewish cemetery, Tangier: notice the Moroccan apartments and satellites behind
Jewish cemetery, Fez
[1] In a 1960 census, 80% of the remaining 240 000 Jews wished to leave, 60% immediately; in an October 1960 census by David Amar, secretary of the Conseil des Communautes Juives, in Bin-Nun, Yigal, in Trigano, Shmuel (ed), 2009, (p333)
[2] Translation: ‘I was born Hebrew and Hebrew I want to die’