Iraq, decades after their rout, still dreamed of doing what Saddam Hussein had failed to accomplish almost half a century earlier, though almost to the indifference of their government. The strategic interests of America were no longer governed by the need of Arab oil. New technologies had rendered them almost invulnerable and indifferent to the endless disputes of the Middle East.
Why had America not foreseen the revolution? The fact was that their hands were tied. They could not substitute themselves for the Saudi rulers; they were not free to move troops and vehicles wherever they chose to move them. The US forces were forced to sit and watch from their main bases in nearby Qatar as the events unrolled, and though they moved in reserves and equipment to their bases, they were practically paralysed by the indifference of home politics.
The rebels were Arabs of the Arabian Peninsula, who naturally knew their home territory and its peoples, their language and dialects, their reactions and loyalties. The revolution was on a parallel to that which had taken place in Iran fifty or sixty years earlier.
Finally, in conclusion to the first part of the series, the role of the Turks in the Levant would be described, showing how they had stepped into the fray, taking advantage of the Arab's weakness and the American disinterest in the Middle East. They, with the Israelis, rolled the eastern Mediterranean Arab states into their Greater Levant, protected from the Universal Caliphate by the sands of the Nafud Desert.
A second number in the series should present the viewers of Global Focus with the less known recent history of the Arab states of North Africa. The countries that had formed the Western Caliphate under El Rashidun, a charismatic leader who had succeeded in unifying those countries for the first time since the 17th century under the Ottoman Empire.
Though an Islamic confederation, it was clear that it had not been the banner of Islam that bound them together, rather an extraordinary leader. Unfortunately for them their unification did little to improve the almost catastrophic economic situation of their young populations, impoverished by the scarce resources in the vast arid regions of North Africa, amongst the lands most affected by climate change.
It seemed to me that few people outside of France interested themselves in the decline of North Africa, which had commenced in the early years of the century with the successive crisis in Algeria. It was Egypt that drew the attention of the world to the changes with the arrival to power of the Islamic extremists. This had followed the brutal guerrilla war in Israel during which Egypt, to the disgust of a large part of its population, had not intervened. The war had depleted the economies of the region, the collapse of tourism and foreign investment, as well as damping the aggressive spirit of the different protagonists. The result of the war was a sullen compromise.
The changes hoped for in the Kingdom of Morocco after the death of Hassan II had not occurred. The country slipped into a stupor as hope of liberalisation evaporated as its introverted king stifled the palace and clamped down on the hope for reforms and on his populist cousin.
It was the tragic death of the young King in Morocco that accelerated the process of change, which had in any case already been under way, sweeping out the privileged classes and more especially the Francophiles.
Huge demonstrations in Rabat had commenced in favour of the Muslim control of Jerusalem. More than one million demonstrators marched to the Parliament building where they were joined by government members and parliamentarians. Before the iron gates of the Parliament they were met by armed riot police panicked by the size of the crowd and the hostile shouts.
The demonstrators included trade unions and political organisations joined by student movements shouting anti-government slogans, as Islamist militants shouted ‘there is no God but God, it’s for him we live and it’s for him we die’.
When the anger of the crowd turned towards the King and his family the police barricaded the iron gates and the prime minister fled in panic by a side door to the nearby railway station after realising that the demonstration had suddenly transformed into an anti-government protest. The enraged crowd attacked the police with stones and a shot was fired.
At the very heart of the Palace a fundamentalist Islamic cell bent on the fall of the Monarchy by any means went into action.
Morocco’s youth with its masses of unemployed graduates accused the king of not making the necessary reforms in the country’s education system, its universities were seen by the palace as a hot bed of protestation, they condemned his continued refusal to extend parliamentary power. The only hope for the uneducated youth of the country was across the straits in Alcigeras.
A revolutionary government was formed by an alliance between the Islamists and the army following the fall the Alawis’, a dynasty that had ruled Morocco since 1631. In the general euphoria that followed, and in the name of Allah, Morocco chose to join the Islamic Union with their brothers in Egypt and Algeria.
The European Federation and especially France looked on hypnotised as the events unfolded. What they had most feared had come about with an astonishing rapidity. The Federation could only observe the changes to the south and east of the Mediterranean with a deepening sense of unease.
The events in Algeria in the early years of the century had provoked the first great exodus of intellectuals and political refugees. Those who fled the chaos included not only political refugees, but also a mass of economic refugees, both qualified professionals and opportunists, fleeing the growing misery and poverty.
The arrival in Marseille and Paris of tens of thousands of Algerian refugees resulted in the fall of the Social Democratic Party’s government. Two years later with the fall of the Morocco monarchy, a second wave of refugees arrived. The population of North Africans in France doubled within the space of ten years.
The right wing political founder of the Nationalist Party had not lived long enough to see his party lead a coalition to form a new government. It was in a furore of xenophobia that the coalition of fortune tried to lead a politically weakened country, tied in a greatly enlarged European Federation, dominated by Germany and its powerful political allies from the Nordic and Central European states.
Djellali
The next morning Ennis was woken from a deep sleep by the shrill beeping from the TS speakers. He sat up in his bed and aimed the zapper at the screen and a man appeared.
“Ennis?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Welcome to Algharb!”
“Thank you.”
“It’s me, Abdelhamid from the Ministry of Information.”
“Ah! Hello! How are you?”
“Fine and you?”
“Fine!”
“Good.”
Ennis swung out of bed, he saw from the bottom of the mural an icon that indicated that the room camera was in the off position.
“I’m coming to your hotel! I’m your assistant whilst you're here, your guide if you like. I’m now going to drive you to the Director General, Monsieur Djellali Madani!”
“Good, at what time? Ennis looked at his watch.
“Now if you like. I’m in the lobby.”
“In the lobby?”
“Yes.”
“But....”
Shit, Ennis thought to himself.
“Okay. No problem, give me ten minutes.”
“No problem my friend, I’ll be here when you arrive, take your time.”
“Ten minutes, okay.”
Ennis pressed the off button. He still felt a little sleepy even though he had passed a good night, the bed had been comfortable and the room temperature agreeable. He had been awakened at dawn by the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer from the minaret of the small mosque nearby the hotel; it had not prevented him from falling asleep again without any difficulty. The arrival of a man from the ministry had not really surprised him, the last four weeks in the Arab Caliphate had reminded him of the impromptu oriental way of doing things.
Forty minutes later the Ministry car dropped Ennis and his guide Abdelhamid, a br
ash young man of about thirty, in front of a building situated high on the slopes overlooking city. The facade was in an imposing rose coloured limestone. It had been constructed in the sixties under the French administration Abdelhamid told him with a satisfied smile. A large bronze plaque announced in French and Arabic ‘Ministry of Information’.
Abdelhamid presented Ennis’s passport to the reception and a chaouch guided them to an office on the second floor, leaving them with the Director General’s secretary. She pressed a button and a few instants later a green light on her desk indicated they could proceed and she ushered them into an imposing office.
Ennis was surprised, the General Director of Foreign Relations was obviously French, there was no mistaking it.
“Ennis, my friend!” he said smiling and advancing towards him with his hands outstretched and the palms facing upwards.
“Tap there!”
Ennis though a little surprised had already observed the style of greeting in the hotel lobby and then with Abdelhamid, he tapped his hands down on those of the General Director's.
“So how are you my friend?” He did not leave him the time to reply. "Welcome to our country, all our friends are welcome."
He was French, but his accent was like that of a Francophone Arab or a pied-noir. He was about fifty years old and well dressed, wearing an expensive and fashionable suit.
The office was not unlike those of Djellali's contemporaries that Ennis had