Rabat was my last research-related destination in Morocco. As the current capital of Morocco, it acts as its political center, housing all government and ministerial offices, embassies, the mausoleum for kings who have passed away and even the King’s official palace. Historically, Rabat had a thriving Jewish community, which used to reside in the mellah and was serviced by a number of synagogues. Today between 150 and 200 Jews still live in Rabat, making it the 3rd most populous Jewish city in Morocco, behind Casablanca and Marrakesh. The community is serviced by two synagogues, one used for prayer in the new city and the ancient one in the mellah open for visitors, a Rabbi, a shochet, and a kosher restaurant.

I arrived in Rabat on the Friday after Yom Kippur and spent five days at the house of a very nice, Jewish couple (below), enjoying Shabbat and the first two nights of Sukkot with them and the community in Rabat. Perhaps because the family is more traditionally than strictly religiously observant of Judaism, I noticed that there were some relatively secular and well-assimilated families living in Rabat. However, I also met, interviewed and dined with some of the more religious components of the community, so I believe I have a well-rounded idea of the history of Rabat and its contemporary realities.

Stories of the Jewish population of Rabat’s migration displayed similar trends as other cities: the migrations occurred in waves marked by Arab-Israeli conflicts, poorer people left for Israel around 1948 for a better economic life, later migrations were triggered by anticipation of (after Moroccan independence) and eventually the realization of bad economic conditions, as well as fear. However, for the first time in three months, the “fear factor” was actually supported by 2 concrete examples that would warrant enough fear amongst Jews to cause their flight. These two events were particularly significant in the literature on the migration of Jewish communities from Morocco, and before I left I was expecting to hear about them a lot more frequently.

These events include a Jewish massacre in Oujda in 1948 (a city close to the eastern border with Algeria) and the visit of Gamal Abdel Nasser (the former Egyptian president and “father” of the Arab Nationalism movement) to Morocco. The former is one of only two official accounts of organized violence against Jews in Morocco’s recent history (the other in nearby Djereda during the same year), but would understandably instill fear in a population that was increasingly on edge after the creation of Israel. The latter event would have been frightening for the Jews of Morocco because at the time, Nasser was the symbol of Arab unification and cooperation, particularly against the Arab world’s “common enemy” of Israel. Moroccans came out in hordes to support this hero and the cause of Arab solidarity, which caused Jews to question their status as Moroccans because the support for Nasser portrayed Moroccans identifying increasingly as anti-Israeli Arabs, instead of Moroccans. The two men that mentioned these events described the increasing fear of the Jews in Rabat, as it became more dangerous to even leave the house with a kippah on, and at least part of the reason that people began to emigrate. However, they fervently denied that the Jews in Rabat experienced any sort of violence, persecution or harassment, and still maintained cordial relations with their Muslim neighbors.

What I find most interesting about these events is not so much their effect on and role in the migration, which would vary from person to person and family to family, but rather its lack of prevalence in the current Jewish Moroccan discourse on its own population’s exit. I can think of a few reasons to support this strange phenomenon, but it is purely speculation and not proven through firsthand accounts. The Jewish population with which I speak are those that remained in Morocco, and therefore, one would assume, the segment of the population that was relatively unfettered by news of violence against Jews at that time. This event may have seemed insignificant to them at the time, and for that reason does not even exist as part of their historical memory/narrative of the departed Jewish population. One possible reason for the insignificance assigned to the massacres is proximity; Oujda and Djereda are located hundreds of miles from most Moroccan cities, and is commonly associated with or considered closer to Algeria in many aspects of life.

I believe that the current Jewish Moroccan population does not associate Nasser’s visit to Morocco with the reasons for the Jewish migration because of the Moroccan (Jewish and Muslim) distinction between Jews and Israelis. I have mentioned in other posts the historical fortitude of this differentiation in Morocco; the Jews may not have been frightened of Nasser’s visit because they were confident not only in their position in Moroccan society, but also in the Moroccan Muslim conviction/mentality that separates their Jews from others.

The last question begs to be asked: so why did I finally encounter these reasons in Rabat? Unfortunately, I do not have an answer, but rather a postulation. The man who originally mentioned it to me is originally from a small village in the mountains not far from Oujda, and perhaps it is a more salient event in his mind because at one time, it touched particularly close to home. Furthermore, he is very well-educated, has been a teacher in Morocco since 1960, and lives in the city that Nasser visited, all of which may attribute to his knowledge on these events. Therefore, I conclude that this man was the exception, rather than the rule, and it was by chance that I heard about the massacre here (I may have heard of it from others originally from nearby villages, currently living in other cities now). However, it is peculiar that I only heard about Nasser’s visit one time here, as Rabat was the city that experienced it firsthand.