Rabat was my final research-related destination in Morocco. As the current capital of Morocco, it acts as the political center and home to government and ministerial offices, embassies, the mausoleum for kings who have passed away, and the King’s official palace. Historically, Rabat had a thriving Jewish community, residing in the mellah and serviced by a number of synagogues. Today between 150 and 200 Jews still live in Rabat, the 3rd most populous Jewish city in Morocco, after Casablanca and Marrakesh. Two synagogues are open in Rabat (an operational one in the new city and the ancient one in the mellah open for visitors.)  The community also supports 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); I enjoyed Shabbat and the first two nights of Sukkot with them and the community in Rabat. Perhaps because the family is more traditional and less strictly 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.

The migration of Rabat’s Jewish population displays similar trends as other cities: the migrations occurred in waves marked by Arab-Israeli conflicts; poorer people emigrated to Israel around 1948 in search of a better economic life; later migrations were triggered by anticipation and eventual realization of bad economic conditions after Moroccan independence; as well as fear.

However, for the first time in three months, the “fear factor” was supported by 2 events that warranted enough fear amongst some Jews to cause their flight. Because these examples were particularly significant in the literature on the migration of Jewish communities from Morocco, I was expecting to hear about them 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, causing Jews to question their status in Morocco as anti-Israel sentiment soared.

The two men that mentioned these events described an increase of fear in the Jews of Rabat, as it became more dangerous to leave the house wearing a kippah. However, they fervently denied that the Jews in Rabat experienced any sort of violence, persecution or harassment, and argued that they 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. I can think of a few reasons to support this strange phenomenon, but they are purely speculatory. The Jewish population with whom I speak are those that remained in Morocco, and therefore, the segment of the population that would have been relatively unfettered by news of violence against Jews at that time. These events may have even seemed insignificant and/or far-removed from them, and for that reason, these occurences are not in the forefront of the historical memory/narrative of the remaining Jewish population, whlle they may be more prominent in the departed one. A 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 (Jewish and Muslim) Moroccan distinction between Jews and Israelis. In other posts I have mentioned historical fortitude of this differentiation in Morocco; the Jews may not have been frightened by 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, ie. Israelis.

The last question begs to be asked: why did I finally encounter these events as causes for the migration, in Rabat? Unfortunately, I do not have an answer, but rather a postulation. The man who cited these reasons 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 of 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 countries). However, it is peculiar that I only heard about Nasser’s visit one time here, as Rabat was the city that experienced it firsthand.