Exploring the Intersection of Outdoor Sports and Colonial History in Morocco
In recent years, climbing and trekking have catapulted certain Moroccan valleys into the global adventure map, attracting outdoor enthusiasts from all corners of the world. However, the allure of these inhabited mountains raises pertinent questions about the implications of foreign athletes engaging in these spaces. Through his research on "sporting mountains" in Morocco, anthropologist Thomas Fouquet unveils the often-overlooked dimensions of outdoor activities, which may appear neutral on the surface yet are intrinsically tied to a complex historical narrative.
While adventurers flock to Morocco in search of rock climbing opportunities, sunshine, and breathtaking landscapes, the reality is far more intricate. Locations such as Taghia, Todgha, Chefchaouen, and Imlil have become synonymous with a certain archetype of adventure. Yet, as Fouquet argues in his article published in the _International Review of Development Studies_, these mountains are not merely natural formations but are steeped in colonial history, social inequalities, and the complexities of tourism and power dynamics that lie beneath the surface of the outdoor experience.
The Colonial Roots of Mountain Sports
The paradox surrounding Moroccan mountains is strikingly evident. They are substantial, visible, and inhabited; however, the sports that thrive within them have long been influenced by models imported from abroad. The origins of this phenomenon can be traced back to the early 20th century during the French protectorate, which began in Morocco in 1912. The French Alpine Club established its section in the High Atlas just a decade later, and by 1923, it held its annual congress in Marrakech, presided over by Marshal Lyautey. Thus, Moroccan mountain sports emerged in a curious context, where European actors equipped the terrain, constructed shelters, trained guides, and superimposed a European alpine imaginary onto the Moroccan landscape. While the cliffs are undeniably Moroccan, the narrative surrounding them has often been articulated in French, encompassing themes of mountaineering, exploration, and gentle conquest.
In an interview with _Vertige Media_, Fouquet encapsulates this narrative succinctly: "To Moroccans, mountain sports feel like a foreign space at home." Despite being national in topography, the mountain remains partially alien due to its codes, institutions, narratives, and practices. The term "postcolonial" is not merely a slogan but a descriptor of the realities on the ground. According to Fouquet, it is through colonization that mountain sports were introduced and developed in Morocco, leaving lasting traces that persist to this day.
Many climbing routes continue to be equipped by Europeans, both expatriates and tourists, while the local climbing community often comprises individuals from privileged urban backgrounds. However, a shift is occurring, with a notable surge of interest in climbing among young urban Moroccans. Climbing sections in cities like Rabat and Casablanca are reaching their capacity, leading some clubs to turn away additional members. While this trend might suggest democratization, Fouquet offers a nuanced perspective, stating, "There is an increase in participation, but not a democratization of climbing. The Moroccan population is not targeted by the outdoor market, yet Moroccan territories are exploited by outdoor practices."
As reported by vertigemedia.fr.
The Moroccan valleys captivate due to their perceived authenticity, embodying what many Europeans believe to have lost in their own landscapes: raw, less commercialized mountains. However, this notion of authenticity often conceals deeper realities. What travelers perceive as charm—such as isolation and a lack of heavy infrastructure—can be experienced by locals as significant constraints, including inadequate roads, limited access to healthcare, education, and electricity. Fouquet references geographer David Goeury, who notes, "National isolation can be considered a resource on a global scale." In simpler terms, what disadvantages a territory can also be its strongest selling point.
Fouquet highlights a profound disconnect, where "the aspirations and desires of some are in stark contrast with those of others." The hiker seeks an untouched village, free of electric poles in the frame, while the local resident merely desires light. An insightful phrase from his research on the Aït Bouguemez valley encapsulates this dilemma: "To attract tourists, heritage must remain intact, but for locals to stay, heritage must evolve." In Imlil, the last village before Toubkal, this misunderstanding becomes palpable. Fouquet describes an "outdoor bazaar" where guides, accommodations, second-hand gear, and old climbing equipment converge, creating a unique blend of adventure economy and local resourcefulness—a version of Chamonix without the alpine sheen.
Climbing adds another layer to this complex narrative. While trekking allows for traversing the landscape, climbing transforms it. Climbers drill bolts, equip routes, and name cliffs, thereby inscribing their own narratives onto the landscape. Fouquet emphasizes that this act of appropriation is symbolically significant, considering the country's history and foreign presence. The pressing questions arise: who decides that a cliff becomes a climbing site? Who equips, names, and maintains it? And who stands as a spectator when a living space transitions into a "spot"?
In recent months, young Moroccan climbers from the CAF in Casablanca have voiced concerns about what they perceive as the persistent colonial spirit in certain practices. Their critique is less about the existence of climbing itself and more about the consumption of these spaces. Fouquet summarizes this perspective bluntly: "We come, we practice, we consume, then we leave." In response, a more mindful approach to climbing is emerging, one that pays closer attention to the territories and the people who inhabit them. This approach is characterized by a "politics from below," emphasizing the importance of how one arrives in a village, the names given to routes, and the legacy of activities beyond mere personal accomplishment.
Moreover, the advent of social media has expedited the visibility of mountains among urban Moroccan youth. Platforms like YouTube and Instagram amplify narratives of personal achievement, sometimes prioritizing image over a genuine understanding of the environment. Fouquet recounts an incident involving a guide who encountered young climbers from Marrakech attempting to summit Toubkal in winter attire ill-suited for the conditions. He notes, "Young Moroccans are keen on the mountains, but there is a significant gap between the images they see and their concrete knowledge of the environment." The mountain becomes a backdrop for self-promotion before it is understood as a living ecosystem.
Yet, this narrative of dispossession through imagery is not the end of the story. In Taghia, young locals have emerged as exceptional climbers, described by Fouquet as a bridge between the inhabited mountain and the sporting mountain. This intersection may hold a key to the future: the ability of Moroccan climbers to craft their own narratives, images, and ways of engaging with the cliffs. Morocco is not an exotic exception; rather, it serves as a microcosm for broader issues within contemporary outdoor culture. Fouquet reiterates, "It’s not about claiming something specific to Morocco. It reflects Moroccan modalities within a global question."
Ultimately, the conversation revolves around how to traverse natural spaces without consuming them as disposable products. It raises critical inquiries about how to appreciate vast landscapes while remembering that they are already inhabited, named, and contested. Fouquet does not advocate for boycotting the Atlas but instead encourages a reflective approach to engagement. He emphasizes, "My question is not to criticize foreigners climbing in Morocco, but to explore how they do so, with what ethics, and what mindset." Perhaps the crux of the matter lies in understanding that it is not merely a challenge of distance traveled but one of pacing—seeing the cliff before the village, the route before the place, the wild adventure before the history. Fouquet’s study serves as a poignant reminder that the great outdoors are never empty; even in silence, cliffs have stories to tell.
