Why Morocco must not be allowed to join the African Union

The country's occupation of Western Sahara is one of international diplomacy’s greatest failures.

“What does Morocco mean to an Englishman?” George Orwell asked in one of his finer essays. “Camels, castles, palm-trees, Foreign Legionnaires, brass trays and bandits.” That was 1939. But whatever Morocco means to an Englishman today it probably isn’t "occupation, refugees, and landmines".

Morocco is a standard tourist destination and is held up as a model for Arab and African development alike. It may, therefore, come as something of a shock to hear that Morocco is the only African country excluded from membership of the African Union (Madagascar, Mali, and Guinea-Bissau have all been "suspended" since 2009 and 2012 respectively).

This is not something that sits well with King Mohammed VI or his new Government, and on Wednesday a diplomatic team in Rabat started Morocco’s latest push for membership. Kindly voices from the AU have also started to exercise their larynxes on the matter, such as prominent Tanzanian MP, Edward Lowassa Ngayai, who backed bringing Morocco into the AU fold last month.

Morocco was elbowed out of the AU’s predecessor, the Organization of African Unity (OAU) in 1984 after the organization finally recognised the Sahrawi Arab Democratic Republic, the exiled government of Western Sahara, which Morocco invaded and occupied in 1976 and has held by force ever since.

Western Sahara represents one of international diplomacy’s greatest failures. When the Spanish left in 1975, Sahara was to be the last country on the continent to go through decolonisation; it would forever mark the end of the sanguinary history of empire in Africa. Instead it is Africa’s last colony.

The occupation has left hundreds of thousands of Sahrawi disenfranchised, and somewhere between 90,000 and 200,000 have fled as refugees, most of whom currently live in the Tindouf refugee camp in Southern Algeria, and in similar camps in Mauritania. The Moroccan army has established a segregation wall over 2000km long and surrounded by landmines, going through Western Sahara. Sahara’s resources are plundered, and its people continue to suffer.

The United Nations response to the occupation has been nothing short of a disgrace. Though the UN recognises the occupation is illegal, it has utterly failed to do anything about it. The UN has maintained a peacekeeping mission meant to hold a referendum on autonomy in Sahara (MINURSO) since 1991, but it has no mandate to monitor human rights abuses, a skeleton staff, and thanks to France’s Security Council veto has failed to produce a referendum for 21 years.

In spite of all this, it was in Western Sahara’s Gdeim Izik camp that the political protest movements in North Africa began, two months before the self-immolation of Mohamed Bouazizi. The Western Sahara protests received little recognition, let alone backing, in national newspapers, nor did anyone call for the end of the authoritarian regime that was its target. Moroccan security forces dismantled the 6000 tent camp, and the movement, by force.

The African Union is undoubtedly a corrupt and weak institution, and includes countries with even worse human rights records than Morocco. But the one break in over 35 years of international inertia on the occupation of Western Sahara has been the AU’s stand for independence, and refusal to admit the membership of Morocco.

If regional institutions are capable of having any impact at all on global justice (a question to which the answer may well be no), then it can only be by making membership for countries on the peripheries of regional blocks conditional on ending their abuses of human rights, something which has arguably been achieved to some extent with the European Union.

A Chatham House report once compared an AU human rights court to “whistling in the wind”, but its policy on Western Sahara and Moroccan membership is one success in a list so short that it could be inscribed on one of Orwell’s brass trays. If it abandons that stance now, the AU will have to say it is happy living with a colonial Africa.

A Sahrawi refugee walks in a Western Sahara refugee camp. Photograph: Getty Images
Beyonce. Credit: Getty
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Beyoncé at Coachella was a joyful, subversive celebration of Blackness

It was more than just a superlative performance: her blockbuster headline set had enormous cultural significance in the midst of Trump's America.

Beyoncé was the first Black woman to headline the Coachella festival – and she did not want you to forget it.

During her historic, almost two hour long headlining set on Saturday, she provided a masterclass in Black American history and musicology, coursing through the history of Black music across the diaspora and decades, from Nina Simone, to Juvenile, to Fela Kuti. With the backing of a marching band that paid tribute to the culture of historically Black universities and colleges in America, she played a set list of some of her biggest hits, from a Destiny’s Child reunion to her latest single with DJ Khaled, “Top Off.”

Beyoncé set the tone for the night with a parade of dancers again reminiscent of historically Black colleges’ prolific dance teams, making her grand entrance costumed as an ancient Egyptian queen to the tune of the New Orleans’ Rebirth Brass Band’s “Do Whatcha Wanna”.

She reappeared in a sweatshirt emblazoned with Greek letters, establishing her own fictional Black Greek student organization (the system of US university fraternities and sororities is known as Greek) of Beta Delta Kappa. She performed “Crazy in Love” with the marching band, before transitioning into Juvenile’s 1999 hit “Back that Ass Up,” ending the song in the chopped and screwed style of her hometown, Houston.

The message was clear – if it wasn’t evident before, Beyoncé is Black and proud.

Most interesting about Beyoncé’s Coachella performance is not the elaborate staging and theme, though impressive, but her choice to now assert her cultural pride and reverence in overwhelmingly white spaces, especially in the midst of Trump’s America.

Like she did in her 2016 Superbowl appearance, Beyoncé proudly displayed her pride for her heritage and influences by reflecting them back to her target audience – Black people – at the same time showing others what it means to code-switch as a minority.

Coachella historically attracts a white audience, particularly wealthy white millennials who are just as interested, if not more, in being seen and taking pictures for Instagram than the music itself – and who have thousands of dollars of disposable income to spend on a festival. For Beyoncé to debut a performance this culturally Black was not coincidental, as a captive, and partly clueless, audience looked on.

From Malcolm X speech excerpts to singing James Weldon Johnson’s “Lift Every Voice And Sing”, a song often called the Black national anthem, her performance was full of cultural shorthand that they may not have recognised or understood. It was genius, especially at this moment in history; a love-letter to Black people in as vast and grand a public spectacle as possible, live-streamed to a vast global online audience

There may have never been a span of time for Black pop culture like 2017-2018, with the success of Oscar-winning Moonlight and Get Out, and the box office record-breaking Black Panther serving as thought-provoking discussion-fodder and cultural touchstones.

While the Obama administration fostered a sense of overwhelming pride and “we made it,” Trump’s ascension and the accompanying racial tension and rise of white supremacy groups, preference for assimilation, and attack on multiculturalism has made the moment ripe for asserting Black pride in bold, blatant ways.

Beyoncé proved she was up to the task, noting she was the first Black woman to headline the event, sarcastically punctuating the history of the moment by adding, “Ain’t that about a bitch?”

By taking her most popular and recognisable pop hits and using them as a canvas to showcase less mainstream elements of the Black experience, Beyoncé shifted the power dynamic by making the white majority the cultural outsider, for once, all while resetting the bar for live performance. Using the Coachella stage to pay homage to her culture, particularly her Black southern roots, could almost be classified as subversive.

The onus is now on the audience to seek out information to understand what they saw. Beyoncé’s message was clear – this performance was in, of, from, and for the culture, but it wasn’t her job to translate it for you. If you don't get it, you aren't meant to. It's not for you. If you want to understand it, you will put in the work to do so.

The world’s greatest entertainer, a 36-year-old married Black mother-of-three and businesswoman, affirming on one of the world’s biggest stages that not only is Black beautiful, but influential and powerful, was a truly important moment to behold.