Art in the Service of Colonialism: French Art Education in Morocco 1912-1956 9780755607495, 9781850438519

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To my parents El-Khammar Ben Mohamed Irbouh Fatna Bent Abdelkader Boukhrissa and to the memory of my great grandmother Mouma Cheikh

Every relationship of ‘hegemony’ is necessarily a pedagogic relationship. Antonio Gramsci, quoted in James Joll. Gramsci. (Glasgow: William Collins Sons and Co. Ltd., 1977), p. 101.

He was useful because he had been instructed. Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness (and The Secret Sharer), (New York: Nal Penguin Inc. 1983), pp. 106-107.

Archive Centers and Libraries Mentioned in the Text I Archive Centers ADN Ministere des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques, Nantes, France. AN Archives Nationales, Paris, France. CHEAM Centre des Hautes Etudes d'Administration Musulmane, Paris, France. VA Villa des Arts, Casablanca, Morocco. AEBA Archives de l'Ecole des Beaux-Arts, Casablanca, Morocco. Personal Archives of Simone Gruner, Paris, France. Personal Archives of Jacqueline Brodskis, Rabat, Morocco.

II Libraries Bibliothèque Administrative de l'Hotel de Ville, Paris, France. Bibliothèque St. Généviève, Paris, France. Bibliothèque Interuniversitaire des Langues Orientales, Paris, France. Institut du Monde Arabe, Paris, France. La Source Bibliothèque, Rabat, Morocco. The University Library and the Haggerty Special Collection at SUNY, Binghamton, New York, USA. The Utica Public Library, Utica, New York, USA. All translations are mine, and any errors of fact or interpretation are, of course, my sole responsibility.

List of Illustrations I.1 Maghreb Art 3, (Casablanca: École des Beaux-Arts, 1969). I.2 Decorated wood from a Zawiya in Souss, 17th Century. (Photo: Maghreb Art 3, (Casablanca: École des Beaux-Arts, 1969), p. 22). I.3 A decorated column from a Zawiya in the Souss region, 17th Century. (Photo: Maghreb Art 3, (Casablanca: École des Beaux-Arts, 1969), p. 28). I.4 Decorated wood from a Zawiya in the Souss region, 17th Century. (Photo: Maghreb Art 3, (Casablanca: École des Beaux-Arts, 1969), p. 13). 4.1 Wood workshop at the Rabat vocational school, 1940s. (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France, Fonds iconographique C 243). 4.2 Construction workshop at the Rabat vocational school, 1940s. (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Étrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France, Fonds iconographique C 246). 4.3 A drawing lesson from a wood workshop (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France, DIP 92). 4.4 A drawing lesson from a wood workshop (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France, DIP 92) 4.5 A drawing lesson from a wood workshop (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France, DIP 92) 4.6 A drawing lesson from a wood workshop (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France, DIP 92). 4.7 A drawing lesson from a metal workshop (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France, DIP 92). 5.1 Embroidery workshop at the Salé vocational school for the Moroccan Muslim women, 1940s. Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. Fonds iconographique C 243). 5.2 Embroidery workshop at the Salé vocational school for Moroccan Muslim women, 1940s. (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. Fonds iconographique C 222). 7.1 Drawing by Abdelhadi Bennani. (Photo: France-Maroc (January 1917)). 7.2 Drawing by Abdelhadi Bennani. (Photo: France-Maroc (January 1917)). 7.3 Drawing by Abdelhadi Bennani. (Photo: France-Maroc (January 1917)). 7.4 M. Gabriel-Rousseau, Méthode de dessin à l'usage des écoles Musulmanes, I. Cours Élementaire, [n.d., n.p.]. plate 2. 7.5 M. Gabriel-Rousseau, Méthode de dessin à l'usage des écoles Musulmanes, I. Cours Élementaire, [n.d., n.p.]. plate 11. 7.6 M. Gabriel-Rousseau, Méthode de dessin à l'usage des écoles Musulmanes, I. Cours Élementaire, [n.d., n.p.]. plate 21. 7.7 M. Gabriel-Rousseau, Méthode de dessin à l'usage des écoles Musulmanes, 3eme Partie. Application, [n.d., n.p.]. plate 1. 7.8 M. Gabriel-Rousseau, Méthode de dessin à l'usage des écoles Musulmanes. 3eme Partie. Application, [n.d., n.p.]. plate 8. 7.9 Prosper Ricard, Pour comprendre l'art Musulman, (Paris: Hachette, 1924), pp. 168-169. 7.10 A. Chenail, Le dessin d'art Musulman, [n.d., n.p.]. Plate 44. 7.11 Prosper Ricard, Pour comprendre l'art Musulman, (Paris: Hachette, 1924), pp. 176-177. 7.12 A. Chenail, Le dessin d'art Musulman, [n.d., n.p.]. Plate 47.

7.13 Prosper Ricard, Pour comprendre l'art Musulman, (Paris: Hachette, 1924), pp. 170-171. 7.14 A. Chenail, Le dessin d'art Musulman, [n.d., n.p.]. Plate 32. 7.15 A. Chenail, Le dessin d'art Musulman, [n.d., n.p.]. Plate 31. 7.16 Embroidery designs from the collection of the Salé vocational school for Moroccan Muslim women. (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 92) 7.17 Embroidery designs from the collection of the Salé vocational school for Moroccan Muslim women. (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 92) 7.18 Embroidery designs from the collection of the Salé vocational school for Moroccan Muslim women. (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 92) 7.19 Embroidery designs from the collection of the Salé vocational school for Moroccan Muslim women. (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 92) 7.20 The Director, her assistant, and the Moroccan ma'alma at the embroidery workshop of the Mazagan (el Jedida) vocational school for Moroccan Muslim women, 1940s. (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France, Fonds iconographique C 221). 7.21 Drawing exams of a Rabat carpet. (November 4, 1932). (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 93). 7.22 Drawing exams of a Rabat carpet. (November 4, 1932). (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 93). 7.23 Drawing exams of a Rabat carpet. (November 4, 1932). (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 93). 7.24 Drawing exams of a Rabat carpet. (November 4, 1932). (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 93). 7.25 Drawing exam of an embroidery design with essay. (November 4, 1932). (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 93). 7.26 Drawing exam of an embroidery design with essay. (November 4, 1932). (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 93). 7.27 Drawing exam of an embroidery design with essay. (November 4, 1932). (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 93). 7.28 Drawing exam of an embroidery. (November 4, 1932). (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 93). 7.29 Drawing exam of an embroidery design. (November 4, 1932). (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 93). 7.30 Embroidery exams of French motifs. (November 4, 1932). (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France, DIP 93). 7.31 Students' activities. Drawing collection of the General Administration of Public Education. Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 92). 7.32 Moroccan religious activities and rituals. Drawing collection of the General Administration of Public Education. (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 92). 7.33 The Moroccan market. Drawing collection of the General Administration of Public Education. (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 92). 7.34 The Makina vocational school in Fez, 1924. (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 94). 7.35 The Taza vocational school for Moroccan Muslim women, 1930. (Photo: Le Soir Marocain (September 11, 1930). 7.36 The Taza vocational school for Moroccan Muslim Women, 1930. (Photo: Le Soir Marocain (September 11, 1930).

8.1 Moroccan children painting in a shantytown, 1950s. (Photo: Simone Gruner Archives, Paris, France). 8.2 Moroccan children painting in a shantytown, 1950s. (Photo: Simone Gruner Archives, Paris, France). 8.3 Moroccan children painting in a workshop at the Service of Youth and Sports. (Photo: Simone Gruner Archives, Paris, France). 8.4 Moroccan children painting in a workshop at the Service of Youth and Sports. (Photo: Simone Gruner Archives, Paris, France). 8.5 Gruner's open workshops, the Turtle Doves Experiment. (Photo: Simone Gruner Archives, Paris, France). 8.6 Gruner's open workshops, the Turtle Doves Experiment. (Photo: Simone Gruner Archives, Paris, France). 8.7 Gruner's open workshops, the Turtle Doves Experiment. (Photo: Simone Gruner Archives, Paris, France). 8.8 Gruner's open workshops, the Turtle Doves Experiment. (Photo: Simone Gruner Archives, Paris, France). 8.9 Gruner's open workshops, the Turtle Doves Experiment. (Photo: Simone Gruner Archives, Paris, France). 8.10 Gruner and coordinators at an exhibition of Renaissance art organised by the Service of youth and Sports, 1950s. (Photo: Simone Gruner Archives, Paris, France). 8.11 Gruner and coordinators at the Maamora camp, 1950s. (Photo: Simone Gruner Archives, Paris, France). 8.12 Exhibition of the Children work in Rabat before the 1954 Tokyo Exhibition. (Photo: Simone Gruner Archives, Paris, France). 8.13 Distribution of the awards after the 1954 Tokyo Exhibition. (Photo: Simone Gruner Archives, Paris, France). 8.14 Jeanne Guyot's drawing exam of an embroidery design. (November 4, 1932). (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 93). 8.15 Jeanne Guyot's drawing exam of a Rabat carpet (November 4, 1932). (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 93). 8.16 Jeanne Guyot's embroidery exam of a French motif (November 4, 1932). (Photo: Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes, France. DIP 93). 9.1 Louardighi Ahmed, Untitled, [n.d]. Mixed media, 51 x 68 cm. (Photo: Mohamed Sijelmassi, Abdelkebir Khatibi, and Brahim Alaoui. L'Art Contemporain au Maroc (Paris: ACR Éditions, 1989), p. 195). 9.2 Fatima Hassan El Farouj, Untitled, 1984, gouache on paper, 35 x 45 cm. (Photo: Mohamed Sijelmassi, Abdelkebir Khatibi, and Brahim Alaoui. L'Art Contemporain au Maroc (Paris: ACR Éditions, 1989), p. 149). 9.3 Hassan Slaoui, Untitled, [n.d]. Mixed media, 31 x 50 cm. (Photo: Mohamed Sijelmassi, Abdelkebir Khatibi, and Brahim Alaoui. L'Art Contemporain au Maroc (Paris: ACR Éditions, 1989), p. 267). 9.4 Farid Belkahia, Untitled, 1979. Traditional dyes on animal skin stretched on wood, 100 x 130 cm. (Photo: Mohamed Sijelmassi, Abdelkebir Khatibi, and Brahim Alaoui. L'Art Contemporain au Maroc (Paris: ACR Éditions, 1989), p. 69) 9.5 "The School of Fine Arts" in stylized Arabic calligraphy from Chabaa's workshop. (Photo: Maghreb Art 3 (Casablanca: École des Beaux-Arts, 1969), p. 41). 9.6 A decorative motif from Chabaa's workshop. (Photo: Maghreb Art 3 (Casablanca: École des Beaux-Arts, 1969), p. 40). 9.7 Jacque Azema with a student. (Photo: École des Beaux-Art, Casablanca-Maroc, Catalogue. (Tanger: Éditions Marocaines et Internationales, June 1965). 9.8 Ahmed Cherkaoui, Humble commencement de la Pensée et de la Parole, 1967, oil on canvas, 99 x 134 cm. (Photo: Mohamed Sijelmassi, Abdelkebir Khatibi, and Brahim Alaoui. L'Art Contemporain au Maroc (Paris: ACR Éditions, 1989), p. 119). 9.9 Jilali Gharbaoui, Untitled, 1969. Gouache on paper, 53 x 77 cm. (Photo: Mohamed Sijelmassi, Abdelkebir Khatibi, and Brahim Alaoui. L'Art Contemporain au Maroc (Paris: ACR Éditions, 1989), p. 159).

Acknowledgements No book could be completed without the assistance of many individuals. My greatest debt of gratitude goes to Anthony King, Nkiru Nzegwu, Oscar Vazquez, Larry McGinniss, and Hanako Birks and Elizabeth Munns, my editors at I.B. Tauris Publishers. And to Ali el-Kenz, Sociology Department, Nantes University, France; Kenneth Brown, publisher of Mediterraneans/Méditerannénnes, Paris, France; Dounia Benqassem, University of Ain Chok, Casablanca, Morocco; Sylvia Belhassan, Director of the Villa des Arts, Casablanca, Morocco; Abderrahim Jabrani, Director of the School of Fine Arts, Casablanca, Morocco; Laila Chaouni, Publisher of Le Fennec Editions, Casablanca, Morocco; Abdellah Harriri, Moroccan artist residing in Casablanca, Morocco. I am grateful to the following individuals and institutions for their assistance: Ricard Bruno, Françoise Maxence, and Aurélia Rostaing at The Nantes Archives Diplomatiques, Nantes; Frédérique Bazzoni at the Archives Nationales, Paris; Bernadette Fournier at the Bibliothèque Administrative de l'Hotel de Ville, Paris; Véronique Bodin at the CHEAM (Centre des Hautes Etudes d'Administration Musulmane), Paris; Pierrette Ojalvo at the Bibliothèque St. Généviève, Paris; the Bibliotèque Interuniversitaire des Langues Orientales, Paris; The Institute du Monde Arabe, Paris; La Source, Rabat; Silvie Belhassan, Lynda Abes, Hamid Harrami, and Mlle Affaf at the Villa des Arts, Casablanca; The Archives of the School of Fine Arts, Casablanca, Morocco; The University Library and the Haggerty Special Collection at SUNY, Binghamton, New York; and Peggy Hughes, Joan Anne Caron, Eva Liberatore, J. Hunzinger, John Ulrich, and Danny Lockard at the Utica Public Library, Utica, New York. I am indebted, too, to the following individuals for lending me their support and advice: Dolores Amore, Cindy Barth, Benyounès Azizi, Fatema Bellaoui, Mohamed Benamar, Ellen Boesenberg and Mohamed Aly, Jacqueline Brodskis, Abdelillah Chahboune, Khadija Chahid, Jocelyne Dakhlia, Katia Desrosières, Daho Djerbal, Dr. Frances Goldman, Simone Gruner, Mohamed Guessous, Abdelkebir Khatibi, Lewis Harris, Michèle Jolé, Rula Jordi and Malek Abissab, Pauline Kaldas and T.J. Anderson, Meriam el-Kenz and family, George McKee, Fatima Chahid Madani, Mostafa Michab, Khaira Mimouni, Nourredine Mouaddib, Aziz Menebhi, Abdelghani Moussalli, Abderrahmane Moussaoui, Sara al-Qaisi, Teresa Pac, Abaher el-Saqqa, Sharon Smith, Michab Toutankader, and Lynn Umlauf and Michael Goldberg. A special thanks to Haoua Ameur-Zaïmèche, Michele Luizzi, Art Director, M. Alexander Agency and Michael M. Turzansky for producing the Camera Ready Copy for this book, Dr. Jean Pettigrew, Khalid Reggadi, Dr. Sherry A. Rogers, Syracuse, New York, the Scalise Tae Kwon Do Academy, New York Mills, New York, and Gary Sherman. Generous funding for this book was provided by a Dissertation Year Fellowship from the State University of New York at Binghamton and by a Chateaubriand Bourse from the French Government.

INTRODUCTION

This book argues that French art education in the Protectorate of Morocco (1912-1956) played a major role in supporting the colonial agenda in this North African country. The tendency to locate Moroccan art production within an explanatory frame of fine arts-understood in its narrowest sense--and with little or no reference to the larger political and economic conditions of its production, has led a number of contemporary Moroccan art historians and critics to offer only partial explanations of the country's art during this important and crucial period. In attempting to address the formation of Moroccan art production, my aim is to provide, instead, some wider parameters by focusing on art education in relation to the much larger economic and social processes of craft industries. A major policy of French rule in Morocco consisted in segregating Moroccans in the medinas (walled cities) from the French and European communities in the villes nouvelles (French settlements the Protectorate Administration built parallel to the medinas). Unless otherwise noted the noun "Moroccans" refers throughout this text to the Muslim Arab and Berber population. To keep Moroccans sequestered from the French necessitated the strengthening of their traditional craft economy, involving the leather industry, carpet weaving, embroidery, pottery, metal and brass smithing, wood and stone sculpting, ceramics, and tile making. To this end, the Protectorate Administration restructured Moroccan craft workshops by shifting their control from the hands of guilds to those of French authorities. This reorganisation also was to lead to the formation, in vocational trade schools introduced by the French, of generations of Moroccan craftsmen, who adopted French recommendations as well as their modes of production. The French calculated that these educational

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establishments would prepare them to develop their sector of the economy in the medinas and gain economic independence, thus keeping them separate from the French larger colonial plans for the development of the Protectorate. Once they had graduated, students introduced French techniques and work habits into the medinas' workshops where they worked. However, to secure a lasting control of the workshops, the French had to assure continued admission in these schools. This necessitated the creation within the Service of Youth and Sports of a system of Open Workshops that recruited unschooled Moroccan children throughout the country and introduced them to drawing and painting as a hobby, assuming that they would eventually enrol in the schools. The development of the villes nouvelles in Casablanca, Rabat, Marrakesh, Fez, Meknes and other cities, next to the medinas, called for a trained Moroccan labour force able to work in the new trades required by the new European forms of architecture and building construction. The Casablanca School of Fine Arts, created for this purpose, recruited Moroccan high school graduates and channelled them into applied art divisions where they specialised in professions such as carpentry, architectural drawing, and other European skills needed for developing the villes nouvelles. As I will demonstrate, these schools performed an instrumental role in diffusing French colonial cultural hegemony throughout the colonial society. In addition, this domination was also maintained by field studies and administrative reports, written by French scholars and colonial administrators of both genders, who embraced the agenda of the French authorities while claiming to sympathise with the Moroccans. The scholars judged Moroccan crafts as being inferior to French art, thus legitimising their reorganisation. As I will show, there are chastening examples in which these schools and scholars selectively segregated the local population from both the French and Europeans. Their motive was not to educate Moroccans so that they could compete fairly with the French and Europeans, but to produce a subordinate work force that served the interest of the colonial state. However accomplished, whether directly or indirectly, such action smacked of "manifest destiny," and today would be labelled as racist. I conclude by examining the role played by postcolonial Moroccan artists in creating a counter art that has resisted the French art paradigm and the manners in which they contributed to cultural decolonisation. As I discuss below, Moroccan scholarship about the formation of the visual culture in the country has, in my view, been quite simplistic because it restricted its focus to the field of the "fine arts," conceived in a narrow and also unproblematised manner, one that pays insufficient

INTRODUCTION

3

attention to the historical development of that notion. This book proposes a more nuanced position. It examines various French administrators and individuals who managed craft and art schools and their curricula, and the ways in which each responded and embraced the colonial stance. In the pages that follow I provide a short historical background about the establishment of the Protectorate and point out the concepts with which the French achieved their control over Morocco. I follow this by a discussion of contemporary Moroccan scholarship on local art production. I then supply an analysis of the aims of French art education. The introduction concludes with an exploration of an outline of the book’s chapters and its theoretical aspirations.

The Establishment of French Colonial Hegemony Over Morocco Until the turn of the twentieth century Morocco remained the last North African territory not to fall under colonial rule. The European conquest of North Africa had begun with the French colonisation of Algeria in 1830. Tunisia became a French Protectorate in 1881. Beginning in the nineteenth century France, Spain, and Germany had all shown a keen interest in colonising Morocco because of its strategic position, rich resources, and potential trade. Moroccan resistance could be explained by its topography, which deterred invasion, and by its powerful tribes, which formed its army and proved to be a potent fighting force against foreign invaders. Its Sultans, on the other hand, had enough diplomatic skill to play off the European colonial powers against each other, even though they lacked a sound economic policy. In the second half of the nineteenth century, the Sultans, however, failed to obtain steady sources of revenue and had to rely on French banks for loans in exchange for concessions, primarily consisting of commercial privileges and immunity from Moroccan laws for foreigners, or protégés. Under the rule of Moulay `Abdel `Aziz (r. 1894-1908) the crisis increased. He failed to introduce the needed economic reforms and revitalise the Makhzen (the Moroccan government and administration). He relied, instead, on Europeans, particularly French banks and business firms, for advice. In 1906 the Algeciras conference, attended by the European colonial powers, pressured Morocco to open its internal markets for international trade. In 1904 France acknowledged Spain's interests in northern Morocco. Three years later, in 1907, a large number of tribes rebelled against the growing power of the European protegés and banks, as well as the heavy taxes imposed by the Makhzen. In

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the same year, under the pretext of protecting French residents and their properties, General Hubert Lyautey (later to become the first Resident General of the Protectorate, 1912-1925) intervened with French troops from Algeria and occupied the cities of Oujda and Casablanca. Within a year, he had assisted Moulay Hafid in deposing his brother Moulay `Abdel `Aziz. Over the next four years, France concluded secret agreements with England and Germany in preparation for the occupation of Morocco. On March 30, 1912, Lyautey surrounded the capital city, Fez, and forced Moulay Hafid (r. 1908-1912) to sign the Treaty of Fez. In this way, France imposed its "Protectorate" over two-thirds of the country, with Spain controlling the remaining one third in the north and the Sahara in the south. Tangier became an international zone. Lyautey established the beginnings of French hegemony over Morocco. He introduced a set of reforms, which a large group of French colonial administrators, who had already acquired the needed experience in Algeria and Tunisia, put in place. These included military men, scholars, bureaucrats, urbanists, educators, and financiers, among others. They created a base for an infrastructure aimed ultimately at infiltrating Moroccan society. They succeeded in initiating a passive revolution by following the Tunisian, not the Algerian, model of government and, as a result, transformed Morocco from a "Protectorate" into what the French historian, Charles-André Julien, has called a "nominal" colony.1 The French controlled the military, police, and finances, the offices of trade, agriculture and the colonisation of new land; they also took charge of education, health, public works, Fine Arts, the protection of historical monuments, and urbanism (including urban planning), as well as municipal, postal, and civil control services. As for the Moroccans, they managed the Habous (pious foundations for religious charitable purposes), the domaines (administration controlling land and estates), religious education and institutions, and the local justice system. This reconfiguration allowed Lyautey to rule through consensus rather than through force and coercion while, at the same time, claiming to respect local customs and culture.2 French plans faced strong resistance, though. Abdelkrim alKhattabi rebelled in the Rif in the 1920s, and only the alliance between the Spanish and the French defeated him. Tribes in the Atlas regions, likewise, continued fighting before being finally "pacified" in 1934. The Protectorate, nevertheless, well illustrates the Lyautean criterion of peaceful colonisation. The French colonial historian, André Colliez, in providing an explanation for this paradigm, argues that "France colonised [Morocco] not with a ruler and a square but through the help of [native] men and the local environment."3 The resulting composition of Moroccan society signalled the passage of power from the historical block of the Makhzen to the French administrations.4 The hegemonic theo-

INTRODUCTION

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retical model has been used by a number of North African and French scholars and applied to case studies in sociology, history, and political science.5 This book aims to develop this hypothesis in relation to the French art education in Morocco. Yet, how did these mechanisms bring about this passive conquest based on the example of Tunisia, as opposed to the direct colonisation of Algeria? There the French had attempted to assimilate the local population by obliterating its traditional social structures and culture. What were the colonial strategies deployed by the French to mobilise and absorb the different aspects of Moroccan pre-colonial craft industries, as well as its male and female labour force, into the political ideology and hegemonic culture of France? To what extent did the French reforms of the guilds, craft, and Fine Art education impinge on Moroccans? How did these reforms mould them into productive colonial forces and, subsequently, produce a distinctively colonial visual culture? And to what degree were these developments and techniques influenced by those already in use in France and in other colonial empires? These are some of the questions the following chapters aim to answer. Michael W. Doyle, a student of empires, has observed that imperial rule could be "formal" or "informal." Whereas the formal relied on direct colonisation, the informal could be achieved when a state controlled another state through political and economic collaboration and cultural dependence.6 The Protectorate of Morocco exemplifies the second case. Lyautey provided the French authorities with what Edward Said has called a "structure of attitude and reference."7 French soldiers, historians, orientalists scholars, archaeologists, ethnographers, real estate speculators, and profiteers, all chartered the country. Each group employed its own discourse, either accentuating definite facts or generating new ones. Most of them strove to fit the different aspects of Moroccan historical, social, economic, and cultural fields within the French vision. The resulting scholarship created a knowledge that became an authoritative form of reference on which the French authorities relied in order to manage Moroccan affairs. The colonial experience Lyautey had acquired in Algeria prepared him well for the task. The adventure transformed him into what contemporary French historian, Daniel Rivet, has categorised as a colonial "alchemist," one who knew how to operate "a synthesis made of contraries."8 In his attempt to control the Makhzen, Lyautey created an opposition between the bled al-Makhzen (land recognising the authority of the state and the urban centres, which the French considered Arab), and the bled al-Siba (land of dissidence, the countryside, considered by the French as Berber). Lyautey hypothesised that the Berbers might remain free from the grip of Islam's tenets, become more open minded

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than the Muslim Arabs and stay closer to the Europeans in race and in temperament. Berber tribes, therefore, needed to be shielded from Arab contamination. The only way to accomplish this was through the practice of what Julien has called a "cultural greenhouse."9 This attempt to draw the Berbers into French culture pressured the Sultans to collaborate and submit to the demands made by the French authorities from fear that the tribes would ally with the French against the Makhzen. As will become clear throughout this book, the opposition between the bled al-Makhzen and the bled al-Siba would be reflected in the French analysis of the crafts produced in the country. The achievements of Lyautey in Morocco also transformed the cultural politics of the French Empire from within. He deemed that, for example, in the Protectorate the French colonial politics should no longer "create" new institutions as they did in Algeria, but "restore" older ones.10 Preserving the medinas and keeping Moroccans segregated from the French and Europeans, while allowing them to gain economic independence would, Lyautey calculated, prevent them from interfering in the plans the French had for their country. He, nevertheless, helped them to achieve moderate economic independence by strengthening their traditional economy, which generally consisted of craft manufacturing, so that it could meet the challenge of the modern market. He mobilised the craft industries through fragmentation, reduction, and the suppression of the powers of the amin (head of the guild) and the muhtasib (market inspector) who, until then, had monitored the guilds. Lyautey and the Residents after him deemed unproductive, or possibly dangerous, whatever they judged unuseful to their politics. Without doubt the reforms of craft industries sustained the guilds so that Moroccans could manage their local sector without reliance on the French authorities. Meanwhile, the French were busy transforming the Atlantic facade à l'américaine, particularly Casablanca, Rabat, and Fedala (now Mohammedia) and encouraging French capital to relocate from France to Morocco. The following statistics from L’Afrique Française, the monthly journal and propaganda organ of the French authorities, illustrate how the French projected the image of the Protectorate as a rich "petite amérique" and as a lucrative market.11 From 1913 to 1915, Morocco exported to France 52,964,007 francs worth of wheat, barley, beans, chickpeas, corn, eggs, almonds, spices, wax, gum arabic, leather, and wool. It imported 218,002,995 worth of tea, sugar, candles, wine, dried and canned meat, fish, vegetables, shoes, cotton and silk fabrics, petroleum for industrial and domestic consumption, papers, books, soap, shopping bags, sheet metals, iron and wood for building construction and carpentry, hardware supplies, furniture, automobiles, trucks, and rails.12 Ten years after the establishment of the Protectorate, export and import Morocco exchanged

INTRODUCTION

7

with France grossed 237,466,425 and 777,675,725 respectively, or a total of 1,015,142,154 francs.13 During World War I, the Protectorate again proved to be a vital source of supplies. In addition to 23,380 soldiers it contributed to the French army at the European front,14Morocco also provided food supplies consisting of wheat, barley, and corn. Local wool--particularly the `aboudia type which "equalled France's finest wool"--and animal skins equipped the French army with the necessary raw materials for clothing and shoes.15 Morocco's resources, however, were not limited to agriculture. France found in the Protectorate a plenitude of fish, of which 24.5 million kilograms were exported to France in 1936. Fish exploitation launched the construction of twenty-four factories and eight canning shops, mainly in the Atlantic ports, and employed 6,000 workers. The local assets also consisted of mines, including phosphate (exploited from 1921), iron, lead, zinc, manganese, and cobalt.16 The French helped the Moroccans develop their craft industries based on French reforms of the guilds in order to fully concentrate on harnessing agricultural and mine exploitation. Reforms of guilds involved French politicians, scholars, administrators, industrialists, and, to a large extent, Moroccans. All of them enacted, consciously or unconsciously, an expanded definition of the nature of craft, its relation to art, and its social role. It should be noted that the French educators employed these concepts and drew pedagogical guidelines for vocational trade schools, the Open Workshops, and the Casablanca School of Fine Arts. It is my argument that, only by obtaining insights into these reforms and the ensuing colonial discourse they engendered, can we gain an acumen into how the French constructed their value judgements vis-à-vis Moroccan crafts in particular and Moroccan visual culture in general. The Makhzen occasionally assisted French authorities in mustering traditional industries to their guidelines. French sociologist, Jacques Berques, has noted that historically the Makhzen relied on keeping a stable balance among rival forces in an "eternal movement of swing."17 The Makhzen, therefore, opposed some reforms deemed to violate its desire of preserving this social order. The extent to which French authorities dominated Moroccan society was partially contingent upon the degree to which the Makhzen checked their moves as well as upon the way they divided tasks and rewards between the Moroccans and the French. The disparity in power between the French and the Moroccans, hence, must be taken into account if we wish to accurately understand the making of colonial visual culture, including crafts--subjects which, as I will point out, have remained undiscussed by postcolonial Moroccan art his-

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torians and theoreticians. Also the relationship between the French and the Moroccans needs clarification. Restricting that link to one between unequal parties, between the protector and the protected, does not tell the whole story. To locate the essence of the Protectorate, we need to define this rapport as a dynamic between two interlocutors, as a point of entry into studying the formation and meaning of particular visual cultural practices which, as we shall witness, postcolonial Moroccan artists either adopt or reject.

Contemporary Moroccan Scholarship on Moroccan Art Production My interest lies not only within the Fine Arts but also craft productions and trainings. To state the case slightly differently, the art education which I will explore and, in certain instances, work to bring to the foreground, not only acknowledges but embraces crafts as a major form of Moroccan art production. The growing corpus of contemporary literature by Moroccans on their art production denies the significance of the crafts as forms of cultural and aesthetic expressions. The literature, additionally, overlooks larger political and colonial conditions. For most scholars and commentators art production in Morocco in the past hundred years derived from the country's contact with Western artists. Abdelkebir Khatibi, a sociologist, novelist, and literary and art critic, for example, argues that the work of European artists including Eugène Delacroix, Henri Matisse, Paul Klee, and Nicolas de Staël, all of whom visited the country in the nineteenth and the twentieth centuries had substantial impact on local art.18 Brahim Alaoui, art curator at the Paris Institut du Monde Arabe, agrees, claiming that European colonists introduced modern painting throughout the Arab world beginning with their expansion in the late nineteenth century. In Morocco such contact resulted in the emergemce of an art that has followed a Western hierarchic model. Hence, Alaoui categorises Moroccan artists in two groups, figurative and abstract. By stressing this clarification, he does not take into account the specific historical, political, and cultural context in which modern Moroccan art formed.19 Although El Fathémy, artist and art critic, attributes the birth of modern Moroccan art to the establishment of the Protectorate, he main-

INTRODUCTION

9

tains that its true beginning lies in the early 1950s, a period during which a number of local artists, including Ahmed Cherkaoui, Jilali Gharbaoui, and Mohamed Serguini began studying art as a profession and became aware of works by renowned European artists such as Piet Mondrian, Paul Klee, Wassily Kandinsky and others.20 Toni Maraini, art historian and art critic, concurs with these propositions which emphasise the important contributions made by French and other European Orientalist artists. She grounds this evolution within a Hegelian reading of stylistic development, which privileges art above craft.21 This literature focuses, surprisingly, on the elitist aspects of Moroccan art and, as a result, neglects the legacy of French colonial art educational institutions which introduced new artistic practices into the country. Instead, the various writers suggest alternative additional factors which frame the formation of a national visual tradition. Namely, they point to the appropriation by Moroccans, during the 1940s, of pictorial elements from the Turco-Islamic tradition of miniature painting and the growing interest in, and increase of, a mature mural painting tradition by young Moroccan artists around the same period. Artists have developed similar arguments. In the early 1960s Farid Belkahia, Mohamed Melihi, Toni Maraini (Melihi and Maraini were a married couple at the time), and Mohamed Chabaa returned to Morocco after completing their studies in studio art and art history in Europe and the United States. Belkahia headed the Casablanca School of Fine Arts and the latter three taught painting, art history, and interior design and decoration, respectively. They became known as the Casablanca group, and launched a set of discourses that revisited traditional Moroccan art. In drawing public attention to the richness of the local visual heritage, they also addressed the urgent need to protect it. In the mid 1960s, in collaboration with the Marrakesh Centre Marocain pour la Recherche Esthétique et Philosophique they published Maghreb Art, a bi-annual journal which showed a focused interest in architectural monuments, popular arts, and artefacts. They believed that these monuments and arts represented a definite "plastic [local] tradition" that could initiate the inception of an "authentic" modern Moroccan art, provided that they were wisely studied and exploited. Above all, Belkahia and his colleagues defined the role of the journal as "revalourising our artistic heritage and contributing to the emergence of a new national art," as well as offering a "response...to those [Moroccans] who condition the emergence of modern Moroccan art solely by assimilating the model of Western art."22 Through illustrated articles, Maghreb Art (no longer published) aimed at charting the foundations on which the group could ground a revision of the history of Moroccan art. The journal dedicated the third issue, for example, to popular arts, namely, interior wooden paintings in mosques

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I.1

I.2

INTRODUCTION

11

and zawiyas (lodges of religious brotherhoods) in the Southern Sous region dating back to the seventeenth century (figs. I.1-4). According to Melihi, the group became interested in the variety of decorative motifs, which went beyond the repetitiveness found in crafts and underscored, instead, the freedom of gesture and richness of surfaces that succeeded in combining graphic and painterly elements. The four colleagues judged these motifs as pictorially sophisticated as contemporary Western art.23 During this same period, Belkahia began focusing on ways in which he hoped he could decolonise Moroccan art from Western impact. He declared that artists could investigate and employ local materials, including henna, saffron and leather, mediums all of which remained a "virgin terrain," instead of Western art supplies, including canvas and oil paints.24 These attempts made by scholars and artists, however, have appeared insufficient to other Moroccans who believe that art production in the country lacked a "solid" identity. The art critic, Edmond Amran El Maleh, for example, observed in 1988 that because modern painting had been imported relatively late "in the trunks of the colonists" it was still "very young, fresh, stuck to the hands, and [consequently] could not be submitted to the test" of historical analysis.25 Unlike El Maleh, Maraini maintains that painting existed in Morocco before the arrival of the French and Europeans. In an attempt to legitimise the existence of a competent local modern art, she asserts that Moroccans employed painting as a complete aesthetic system, comprising both conceptual rules and manual processes.26 Arabesque designs, as a case in point, embodied "a complex" and "plastic elaboration of a synthetic conception involving time, space, and movement" and, similar to Western art, based its pictorial structure on the grid. She rejects the claims that grounded Moroccan art in "sudden leaps, sudden disruptions, and sudden births," arguing that to truly underpin its source, one needed to go back in time thousands of years, for its foundations lay in the cultural "roots which dive deep into the 'organic soil' of the nation and its history." Maraini rejects El Maleh's argument explaining that the French and Europeans imported a different technology of visual representation. In order to locate such "origins" she cites Rudolf Arnheim's remark that modern Western art resulted from a long historical evolution and multiform aesthetics. Maraini, in fact, imposes Arnheim's assertion on Moroccan art in an attempt to trace its formation to what she calls "a chain of psycho-cultural events" ranging from prehistoric archaeological markings and artefacts to the first local tattoo designs, weaving, and ceramics. By inference, instead of Western artistic supplies and tools (brushes, industrially manufactured paints, and canvases), Moroccans have employed a wide range of similar, but not compatible materials, namely, their own versions of brushes, local colours and pigments, and

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varnishes with which they decorated plaster and wooden surfaces, mosaics, and fabrics. These supplies and supports constituted the basic components of a specific technology of a local visual representation. Taken as a whole, Maraini's essay invokes the specificity of Morocco's visual culture as residing, essentially, in the particularity of its sociological and cultural foundations.27 When she discusses the local representational arts, Maraini recalls that the country also produced a flourishing school known as the Moroccan-Andalusian miniature, the prototypes of which arrived from Turkey and the Middle East. This school depicted a variety of subjects ranging from scientific illustrations to sacred and profane images. Moroccan artists also excelled in popular image-making in public places, including coffee shops and public baths, a visual expression that derived from individual efforts. Essentially "non-academic and non-learned" this latter art form, nevertheless, relied on certain know-how and produced a "sub" and "para" popular visual culture. Modern painting as a technology (i.e. industrially manufactured colours, canvas, stretchers, and easels), on the other hand, reached Morocco, beginning in the 1920s, as a result of the encounter between French artists and young Moroccans who practiced painting as a hobby. The first of such meetings, according to Maraini, occurred between the Orientalist painter, Edouard Brindeau, and Abdeslam Ben Larbi el Fassi when the former was painting in the famous Jamaa al-Fana in Marrakesh, a contact that would transform el Fassi into "the first modern Moroccan painter."28 In spite of these different opinions Moroccan scholars acknowledge the vitality of embracing local crafts and materials as a legitimate inspiration. Yet with the exception of a single essay by Maraini, most of them have marginalised crafts in their writings. Maraini, an Italian, stands as the most portentous art critic in Morocco because, for the past thirty some years, she has attempted to construct a coherent analysis of Moroccan contemporary art. In this essay on crafts she surprisingly locates her subject not in Morocco, as one would have expected, but in Europe with casual references to Greece, China, India, and Latin America, in a period reaching from the seventeenth to the nineteenth century. She states from the beginning that crafts remained always an ambiguous subject of study. This ambivalence stemmed from the fact that scholars regularly "wedged" them between art history, which for a long time refused to consider them as art, and anthropology and ethnography, which focused mainly on the study of popular culture. Throughout the article Maraini claims that art history, a discipline concerned with aesthetic shifts, attended mainly to the cultural accomplishments of social minority groups (a term she uses to define cultural elites) comprised of the merchant class, the bourgeoisie, the aristoc-

13

INTRODUCTION

racy, and the priesthood. Nevertheless, archaeology became interested in examining all types of cultural production, including that of the masses. Our misunderstanding of these latter artistic expressions, according to Maraini, grew more cumbersome because crafts, as opposed to art produced by the elite, were, for the most part, made of fragile materials that easily deteriorated with the passage of time.29 When discussing crafts, Maraini submits them to a male and female gender

I.3

classification and opposes the craftsman to the artist based on stylistic notions of differentiations. She defines the craftsman as a technician who practices his or her trade in "anonymity," and manufactures artefacts that respect old precepts and forms. Additionally, she views crafts as preindustrial art forms and cultural expresI.4 sions that were "uniform" and inscribed in a routine technology.30 As we shall see below and in Chapter One, Maraini's remarks, in addition to exploring crafts from an elitist approach reflect, wittingly or unwittingly, the opinions of French colonial scholars who investigated Moroccan traditional industries.

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French Colonial Art Education in Morocco The French authorities exercised their most powerful hegemony over the Moroccan masses through education. French archives contain many cases indicating how the French constantly promoted their educational programs as part of a humanitarian gesture. The complexity of colonial exploitation can, at times, be difficult to discern completely, because the French carefully disguised their true aims and represented their mission as an altruistic one. In reality, they had little stake in bettering Moroccan lives. Correspondence in the archives of the General Administration of Public Education encloses remarkably tactful documents, which reveal outright profiteering. I do not intend, however, to suggest that whatever the French had managed in the field of exploitative education, they did alone. One of my main arguments in fact is that the reforms implemented by the French authorities to perpetuate the "informal" colonisation of Morocco needed and found Moroccan collaboration. Makhzen officials contributed to the establishment of educational reforms both willingly and unwillingly. Willingly, because these reforms worked for their benefit. By designing a variety of schooling for different ethnic and social groups, the French maintained the social order that had existed prior to the Protectorate. Unwillingly, because, as already noted, the Makhzen officials always feared that they would meet the same fate as the Algerians did (i.e. the French would eliminate them) if they refused to adopt French recommendations. Lyautey and the Residents after him held that, when solely based on the threat of physical force, colonial rule had no power, and that French authority in Morocco required new techniques of civic vigour and a reform of public education in order to transform the Moroccans into efficient parts of the colonial productive process. The schools specified the status of each Moroccan social group and assigned to each a different type of learning relevant to the specific role it would perform in the colonial society. The Moroccan elite, mainly the aristocracy and Makhzen officials, seeking modern education, enrolled in the Franco-Arab schools, in order to preserve their social status and prestige. Under the supervision of French officials, the educated elites, in fact, managed the lower levels of the Protectorate Administration as clerks in the civilian branch and as auxiliary police officers. They accepted their subordinate role and believed for years that the politics of the Protectorate represented their own interests. The educational reforms, embedded in the principles of a partial colonial assimilation, however, intended to instil in Moroccans the inability to conceive of any alternatives to French policies.

INTRODUCTION

15

The French authorities established the vocational schools for the Moroccan poor and created what Michel Foucault has called "disciplinary careers,"31 in which various educational and pedagogical methods set in motion a process of work regulation and ethics. At the end of the program the skills and social behaviour of the trained Moroccans became predictable. The guiding tenet of these establishments involved a powerful, if imprecise, notion that Moroccan crafts could exist autonomously, cut off from their historical, social, and cultural contexts. In fact, as I shall demonstrate throughout this book, the schools’ administrators made constant references to themselves as participating in reviving Moroccan visual culture in a way that elaborated and consolidated French cultural hegemony. The earliest plans concerning a rational organisation of vocational schools began with those created for Moroccan women in 1913. Those for Moroccan men soon followed. By creating these institutions the French attempted to mobilise Moroccan masters of crafts of both genders and their workshops. The schools responded to the specific industrial needs of the city and the region in which they functioned. Their personnel constituted "technicians of behaviour [and] engineers of conduct,"32 who formed the artistic taste of their students. The General Administration of Public Education controlled the schools by recruiting an army of subalterns, directors, inspectors, instructors, and controllers, a great pyramid on top of which stood the General Director of Public Education aided by his his regional inspectors. Historian of imperialism, Robert G. Wesson, has observed that the study of imperialism leads to the exploration of the internal structures of power relations.33 In this sense, the General Administration relied not only on the willingness of the Moroccans to assimilate its teachings and directives but also on the internal hierarchy of power in the schools, a tradition of administrative recruiting that Lyautey and George Hardy, the second General Director and "the principal creator" of the education system in Morocco,34 had established. The schools functioned as a stepping-stone in the colonial hierarchy. Their officials exercised power over those below them and pledged allegiance to those above; and the General Administration hired them more for their loyalty than for their qualifications. This bureaucracy lasted throughout the Protectorate as a complex system with many grades and subordinations. Administrators and teachers strove to bend and shape Moroccans to their pedagogical beliefs and, in return, the General Administration opened for them avenues of advancement in the colonial social ladder. But as we shall see, the organisation suffered from inadequate professionalism, internal problems, and corruption. Analysis of the administrative management of these institutions reveals that the French structured mass education not to enlighten

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Moroccans but to expedite their integration into the job market and, hence, into the Protectorate’s economy. In pre-Protectorate Morocco, craft professions constituted what the social historian, Ernest P. Thompson, called "task-oriented activities." Male artisans practiced their crafts in ways similar to those in which they fulfilled other daily duties and coordinated their time schedules according to weather conditions and the availability of materials. Women, similarly, had an imperfect sense of the time they spent producing artefacts, because they had to attend to other household chores. However, the vocational schools taught their male and female apprentices that the time they would spend in professions would equal the money their future employers would pay them. A task-oriented activity became, hence, "timed labour." The wages and tight schedules induced preventive measures against idleness. The schools inculcated in the Moroccans a respect for "time-thrift," incorporating them as a result into the French capitalist system of production.35 I cannot unqualifiedly say that the Protectorate caused intellectual and economic stagnation of Moroccans. Subsequent chapters will show that guild reforms and vocational teaching methods somewhat eased the economic predicament of the medinas, contributed to a revival of local crafts, and transformed Moroccan craftsmen into the best workers in the French Empire. The reformed guilds and the vocational schools certainly accomplished impressive things, but we should not expect them to be flawless. Officials from the General Administration of Public Education also contributed to the formation of French scholarship on Moroccan arts and crafts and the ability or inability of Moroccans to produce artefacts of artistic value. They claimed that urban Muslims had artistic "instincts," a good sense of stylising natural forms, an easiness with inventing geometric compositions, and a level of dexterity that was "special to their race."36 Literature shared by the different parties of the General Administration attests to the fact that vocational training aimed at developing and disciplining students on the precision of observation, the rigour of measuring, the clarity of perceptual representation, and the skilfulness of the hand. The General Administration also concluded that the theoretical lessons, consisting partially of learning drawing and tracing from memory, sufficiently prepared apprentices to become skilled workers, ready for incorporation into modern colonial life.37 Whereas the different social classes of Moroccans seem to have sought education for their sons, some of them had strong social and cultural prejudices against educating their daughters. The aristocracy, for example, did not conceive of educating theirs in the early days of the Protectorate because they feared that the French would corrupt the moral conduct of their female offspring. When they allowed them to enrol in schools, they decided that they had to remain segregated with girls from

INTRODUCTION

17

their same social background, thereby maintaining and reinforcing the pre-Protectorate caste system. Inasmuch as the aristocracy opposed the education of its women, the poor supported the schools, because they would teach their daughters skills that would allow them to contribute to the family income. However, as I shall emphasise, the impetus behind the creation of vocational schools for Moroccan women had to establish contacts with the feminine milieu. Using their students as intermediaries, the female directors and instructors infiltrated the world of Moroccoan women, facilitating to some degree their assimilation into French social and economic system.38 Renée Bazet, the director of the Rabat women’s school, for example, admitted that the direct link with Moroccan families represented precisely the political role for which such schools were created.39 The School of Fine Arts and the Open Workshops would, likewise, muster the Moroccan milieu to the French agenda. Soon after construction of the Casablanca ville nouvelle started, it increased the demand for Moroccan craftsmen trained in European crafts related to modern building construction, including carpentry, metal smithing, and masonry. In fact, the French authorities created the Casablanca School of Fine Arts in the early 1920s (though it was not officially inaugurated until 1951) at a time when the ville nouvelle began attracting substantial numbers of French and European settlers, pressuring authorities to expand its urban development. To meet these new demands, the French authorities discouraged Moroccan high school graduates from pursuing higher education in France. The school enrolled both Europeans and Moroccans. However, European students pursued fine arts education and prepared to take the exam for entrance to the Paris École Supérieure des Beaux-Arts. The school channelled Moroccan students into the division of applied arts to become trained masons, carpenters, and assistants to French architects, maquette (scaled architectural models) builders, and graphic designers. The Open Workshops, on the other hand, strove to channel Moroccans into the vocational schools in order to revitalise the Moroccan economy. Thanks to the diligent efforts of two young French women, the Services of Youth and Sports succeeded in operating these workshops. The workshops reached young children who did not frequent any schools in the shantytowns and the rural villages. The heads of the workshops encouraged them to appreciate crafts by stimulating them to draw and paint familiar decorative motifs from their homes and neighbourhoods. They calculated that such activities would inspire these children to choose craft careers, thus ensuring enrolment in the vocational schools. The tasks French colonial women performed in these schools and workshops have gone unnoticed in numerous studies dealing with the

18

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Protectorate. For example, in her book on the city of Oujda in Northeastern Morocco, French historian, Yvette Katan, covered the ways in which the city's economy, demography, and social relationships changed under the Protectorate. Katan drew particular attention to colonial education and the types of schools the French created in this city.40 Kenneth Brown, the American urban anthropologist, studied a hundred years of the history of the city of Salé, focusing primarily on the roots of French colonialism, the formation of Moroccan nationalism, as well as traditional industries and education as contested sites between the French and the Moroccans.41 Similarly, Daniel Rivet's first book, a three volume work, concentrated particularly on the establishment of the Protectorate and Lyautey's control of the Moroccan Administration.42 Though these authors relied on primary archival materials, they stopped short of acknowledging French women as active players in the French colonial administration. In his last book Rivet cites the experience of Jacqueline Brodskis, one of the founders of the Open Workshops, but he does so in only a few lines and his testimony lacks historical grounding (see Chapter Eight).43 In a different context, art historian Reina Lewis, in her study of Western Orientalist women, generalised her claim that these women did not have direct access to the superior positions that colonial men held visà-vis the colonised subjects.44 I shall argue otherwise. As we shall see, French colonial women had an immediate impact on the course of the Protectorate's educational programs, including those of the vocational schools and the Open Workshops, and they shared the same colonial ideology as their French male colleagues. The Protectorate, in fact, opened up to these women positions in which they redefined Moroccan feminine crafts and managed vocational schools and the Open Workshops. They began with the premise of the presumed superiority of French and Western art versus Moroccan crafts, relying on concepts of differentiations of gender, ethnicity, and class. These differentials allowed them to emerge as producers of colonial culture. In highlighting this multiplicity of positioning, my aim is to contribute to an understanding of how these women defined themselves as part of a colonial machinery of scholarship.

Book Outline This book has three parts, eight chapters, and a conclusion. Part One concerns the French texts and plans for reforms dealing with Moroccan craft industries. Chapter One explores the attempts the French authorities made to infiltrate the Moroccan craft guilds by relying on reports and field stud-

INTRODUCTION

19

ies by French scholars who grounded their theoretical paradigm of Moroccan culture on ethnic, cultural, and gender differentiation. As a result, they viewed Moroccan history, culture, and crafts through the prism of French colonial ideology, which accentuated divisions and conflicts among Moroccans. They claimed that these guilds suffered from loose organisation and insisted that, in order to survive, evolve, and meet the demands of the new international market economy, craft industries needed reforms. This chapter evaluates the textual and ideological tenets of these texts and demonstrate how they established a scholarly tradition and constituted an alternative reflection as to how Moroccans conceived of themselves, their culture, and their arts. Chapter Two argues that inspiration for the subsequent French reforms of the guilds and craft production derived from the body of literature which these scholars initiated. The reforms, designed to control the guilds from within and to absorb the Moroccan economy into that of the Protectorate, also encouraged Moroccan craftsmen to copy what the scholars selected as prototypes of authentic crafts. These, the French authorities believed, would easily find buyers in local and European markets. However, as I will show, a number of French and Moroccan officials opposed the reforms, therefore transforming the colonial discourse into an interaction between the protector and the protected. Part Two looks at the theoretical foundations and processes of French education in Morocco. Chapter Three demonstrates that the theoretical foundations of this colonial education were first articulated in France and drew largely on the paradigm of education the British, the French colonial rivals, created for India. In Morocco, following the advice of the Makhzen, the French designed different types of schools for the country's different social classes and regions. Whereas the elite enrolled in Franco-Arab schools, the majority learned trades. This chapter underscores the economic and the moral role of the vocational schools. Chapter Four discusses how the French authorities grounded the pedagogical structure of the vocational schools for men according to a hierarchy that conformed to the students' social classes. In addition, the schools performed a crucial role in controlling traditional industries by assimilating students to French methods of production and work standards. The schools functioned as a vehicle for training and transforming Moroccans into disciplined colonial subjects. However, as this chapter emphasises, under closer scrutiny the schools became the focus of both French and Moroccan interests, governmental, as well as private, and became a dynamic discursive field in which unexpected experiments, analyses, theoretical statements, and opinions developed and circulated.

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Chapter Five studies the purpose of the vocational schools for women as residing, essentially, in mobilising the Moroccan feminine milieu. I particularly address the role of the French women who managed these schools. In setting them forth the French authorities summoned young French Orientalist-trained women who, thanks to their knowledge of the Moroccan culture and language, learned the rudiments of the crafts and managed the prototype of these schools for both the aristocracy and the masses. I am concerned in this chapter with how these women constructed Moroccan visual culture across the complex realm of women's world. I aim to contribute to colonial discourse by emphasising that they directly involved themselves in the formation of Moroccan visual culture and that they couched their vision in the same colonial and ideological outlook as their male counterparts. Part Three examines the manners in which the drawing curriculum designed by the French for the vocational schools had direct links with the French colonial agenda. Chapter Six reveals the extent to which the general theoretical framework of vocational training in the Protectorate drew largely from similar reforms that were articulated in the trade schools in France half a century earlier. In France reforms involved State and independent organisations and aimed, essentially, at shielding the position the country held as the world's leading "artistic" nation. By harnessing different educational institutions to strengthen industry, these reforms conflated the protection of the national artistic heritage with national defence. Chapter Seven expands the argument of the previous chapter and shows that, in Morocco, the General Administration of Public Education borrowed the main precepts of the curricula operating in France’s trade schools, indigenised, and made them conform to the Moroccan context. This chapter also explores the relationship between colonialism and art education. It calls special attention to the pedagogical organisations of these institutions and examines how the Protectorate moulded them on similar French principles and practices which the French state traditionally deployed to maintain social and cultural order, artistic norms, and nationalistic zeal. Chapter Eight explores the workshops created by the service of Youth and Sports and managed by French women. This chapter extends the argument of chapter five in that it focuses on how these women attempted to assimilate Moroccans into aspects of French visual culture. In addition, this chapter investigates how the Casablanca School of Fine Arts enticed Moroccan students to embrace a French work ethic and modes of production. The major theme in this chapter concerns the larger political implications surrounding the goal of these institutions. The conclusion provides an evaluation of the different approaches and reactions which Moroccan postcolonial artists have manifested toward French visual culture and their own crafts, in their search for an "authen-

INTRODUCTION

21

tic" identity. They responded and continue to respond differently to what they deem as the proper strategy to decolonise their visual culture. I do not intend to judge but rather to suggest that Moroccan identity has its complexities as did the colonial historical contexts in which it unfolded. To underscore the interconnections cited above, my methodological objective consists of reading closely colonial archives pertaining to French educational reforms in Morocco. I aim to demonstrate that French art education in Morocco supported the French colonial program. In addition, for reasons of exploitation, this system of art education remained sectarian in nature. It seemed altruistic, but in reality it offered an unequal schooling, racially biased and designed to strengthen a social structure that, to say the least, did not represent the best long term interests of Moroccans. In this context, I examine the specific process of colonial intellectual production related to the creation of the schools and the implementation of their curricula, the degree to which various educational options reinforced the political vision of the French authorities, the roles French men and women performed in infiltrating the Moroccan guilds and the feminine milieu. The book argues that French men did not monopolise colonial cultural production alone, but that French women, too, participated in managing and producing a colonial visual culture. The roots of the theoretical framework on which the educational methods functioned in the Protectorate had strong ties with those operated in France as well as those the British implemented in India. This analysis emphasises the visual heritage of Morocco as an outcome of a multiplicity of endeavours and discourses, ones that continue to remain misunderstood by Moroccans in general and Moroccan art historians, art critics, and artists in particular. If French colonial education represented, as Gwendolyn Wright states, the means by which the French "charter[ed Morocco's] past and its future,"45 I shall argue that they held this education as the manifestation of an intellectual superstructure, as a positivist orderliness, a social systematic organisation and, above all, a cornerstone from which they buttressed and disseminated their cultural hegemony. The rules and regulations of this authority formed part of an objectifying method that claimed to teach Moroccans the virtues of industriousness, self-discipline, and self-reliance. However, we should be wary of generalisations. Neither the administrative organisation of the vocational schools, the Open Workshops, and the Fine Arts School, nor their pedagogical curricula epitomised a rigid structure. Contradictions also encroached both on the realm of the production of commodities and on the teaching methods. Only the strong belief their personnel had in the Protectorate as a justifiable moral, economic, and cultural enterprise helped these schools to function. A second point I particularly attend to concerns the nature of colonial power in the Protectorate. As mentioned above, the French fashioned their

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rule over Morocco partially on the example of the Protectorate of Tunisia and partially on the colonial policy the British pursued in India. I will demonstrate that imperial policy making, similar to the situation of empires, was essentially heterogeneous, irregular, and composed of statements, revisions, contestations, and accommodations, themselves the result of a plurality of discourses and positions all of which claimed practicality. We cannot claim that the French created a dominantly French discourse, because such a contention fails to take into consideration other voices and other sources, some of which found their way into the colonial machineries while others did not. The foundational guidelines the French embraced in their endeavour to colonise Morocco sprang from an accumulation of internal and external experiences. The British imperial program compelled them to revisit the colonial processes they employed prior to colonising Morocco. As Wesson has argued, methods of imperial domination were "borrowable, like metallurgical techniques" and "the very idea of commanding and exploiting distant alien peoples [could] hardly occur to anyone unless it had been done by others."46 The French learned from the British that when the colonisers constituted a decrepit minority, as the French did in Morocco, they could preserve power only when they had pacified the minds of their colonised subjects. Subsequently, the French strove to ameliorate the living conditions of the Moroccans by involving them in managing their economy, thus alleviating the burden of controlling them. In Morocco, the French, to borrow from Wesson once more, "aped" their British imperial competitors for the success of colonial power mattered less than the originality of the methods employed.47 This argument will help us better understand how French art education in Morocco was also an amalgam of borrowed concepts. I believe that it has become readily apparent to the reader that my views stand different from those of the Moroccan scholars I discussed above. If we wish to ground our efforts in providing a full and realistic assessment of the formation of Moroccan visual culture, we need, I think, to confront these rather difficult issues without becoming imprisoned by the mentality of blame. That is, on one hand, we must acknowledge, as this book does throughout its chapters, that the French did, indeed, play a role in the development of Moroccan art production as well as in the creation of new artistic traditions. From fear of committing such a grave error by simply dismissing such a contribution, we need to transcend the simple antinomies of "French" and "Moroccans" or "they" and "us" perspectives and address, instead, the variegated reality that confounds the single linearity of "truths" of those who prefer debate to dialogue, and advocacy to analysis. This book draws mainly from archival materials that, up until this date, have not been published in either books or essays. This largely explains my decision to focus here on primary material from the archives

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which the secondary sources inform. The archival materials consist of fragmentary and incomplete administrative correspondence and reports. As a result I spent considerable time and effort during my fieldwork in France and Morocco locating the different organisations and individuals involved in establishing and operating the French art education system in Morocco. I have, therefore, deliberately chosen to write a number of passages in narrative form, because I believe such a form helps to bring out the interrelationships of the parties concerned and conveys the spontaneity of the historical events as well.

BY WAY OF CONCLUSION: THE BURDEN OF CULTURAL DECOLONISATION

French colonial reforms of the Moroccan traditional craft industries provided local craftsmen with opportunities to better their material lives through improved organisation, entrepreneurship, and patronage. From the beginning of the reforms, the French distinguished between idealised craft forms based on "authentic" models and "degenerate" forms. This distinction transformed Moroccan craft productions into distinct modernised industries whose critical value, nonetheless, consisted in withstanding the pressure of the market. This reorganisation occurred within the framework of a French colonial discourse that included theoretical speculations and mandated strict instructions. Emphasis on these guidelines by the French widened the gap between the traditional and the modern, the pre-capitalist and capitalist economies. Moroccan crafts, as a result, no longer represented a personal expression of the artisans who produced them. The reforms had determined new modes of production, invented new traditions, and changed the relation between the craftsmen and the needs of the local and foreign clientele. In addition, they denoted the French attempt to incorporate Moroccan craft industries into their colonial policy. True, in the face of dire economic hardship, the French

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assisted Moroccans in securing a partial economic independence in the medinas, but at the same time this quasi-autonomy also allowed the French to increase their control. The guidelines relied heavily on the ideas of French colonial scholars of both genders. The texts produced by these "experts" did not constitute two different theories, but displayed a strong similarity in their ideological outline. Both had suggested the creation of archives to house prototype artefacts in museums, which Moroccans used as models for reviving traditional designs following decades of craft decline. The prediction that Moroccan craft productions stood on the brink of disappearing motivated the French authorities to control local guilds and craftsmen. French colonial male scholars maintained that Moroccan crafts reflected the manner in which the craftsmen responded to their environments. These same scholars described Moroccans as essentially divided between their geographical locations, ethnic, racial, and gender attributes. Although not a formal science, their scholarship provided a world-view of Moroccans that, at best, blended empirical studies and speculative definitions, fortuitously conjoined with a set of value judgements and moral commitments. Their ideas offered the French authorities a practical devise in advancing their agenda in Morocco. French colonial women, likewise, hypothesised about Moroccan crafts in seemingly authoritative and learned voices, and made implicit and explicit references to the strategic positions the crafts had to perform in the French economic policy. These women refused to confront the crafts from positions and conceptualisations other than those circulated by their male counterparts. They judged craft productions in terms of what they saw as "correct" versus "incorrect" practices, rather than in terms of alternative modes of judgment. They held "truth" as a singular set of propositions that all French scholars, regardless of gender, embraced. They could not conceive of the crafts as grounded in a plurality of cultural settings. When confronted with concepts that conflicted with French colonial ideology, they did not find it necessary to inquire about the essence of the crafts from within their particular historical and cultural contexts. At the cost of serious scholarship, they stretched their empirical findings, aligning them with the French politics of domination. French involvement in the reconstitution of Moroccan traditional industries did not stop at the level of scholarly investigations. It also created vocational schools where new generations of Moroccan men and women assimilated French work ethics and methods of production. The schools and their staff coalesced with the colonial agenda in that they attempted to shape the minds of their students. Embracing Lyautey's principle of indirect rule, administrators and teachers reasoned that the

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submission of the trained Moroccans to colonial rule would remain weak unless they believed in the mission of the vocational schools. Intolerant of challenge, these institutions discouraged Moroccans from undertaking free inquiries. By upholding the colonial status quo, they bowed to conservatism. These schools, however, did not impose teaching programs that totally differed from those practiced in pre-Protectorate Morocco. They occasionally combined notions from the curriculum and teaching philosophies of both the Moroccan traditional craft workshops and French fine art schools. Their pedagogical tenets, nevertheless, mandated that Moroccans had to draw from "authentic" handicrafts in order to acquire the necessary manual dexterity. Secondly, the manners in which apprentices duplicated these models had to display the imprints of French guidelines. Thirdly, the schools judged the mastery students had acquired by measuring the extent to which they succeeded or not in replicating the prototypes. The guidelines also introduced metropolitan concepts of fine arts in the Open Workshops and in the Casablanca School of Fine Arts and, on occasions, strove to introduce Moroccans to French and European art. These concepts persisted throughout the colonial period and continue to survive in post-independence Morocco. However, attempts to explain the hegemony of French colonial visual culture by simply focusing on the fine art system, which the French introduced into the country, make little sense when conceived of as the defining factor of the cultural tension that resulted between the ex-protector and the ex-protected. The proposition to which this observation leads is that many of the conceptual aspects the French colonial scholars had built around Moroccan arts and crafts persists among Moroccans as a canonical and untransformable value judgment. Indeed, French scholarship remains central to Moroccans studying their crafts. Moroccan historians and sociologists started publishing monographs and essays in Arabic and French with increasing speed, especially beginning in the late 1960s. Their studies continue to grow in number. Their texts focus on architectural interior decorations, wood works, carpets weaving and pottery; and, analogous to French texts, many constitute descriptive analyses and define crafts based on their geographical locations and the ethnic origins of their manufacturers. They categorise crafts as types, and direct readers, tourists, and specialists to crafts markets and museums, which Prosper Ricard had established. This task, these authors claim, would make Moroccans aware of their artistic heritage. Above all this mission has a practical goal. It seeks to help the state win popular consensus needed for implementing policies aiming at preserving and modernising crafts.1

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In harnessing support, the Moroccan state has championed crafts as an important industry and as a crucial component of Moroccan material culture. In the late 1980s and early 1990s the Ministry of Craft and Social Affairs, for example, published Le nouveau corpus des tapis marocains, a new version, but exact, copy of Prosper Ricards’ four-volume Corpus, which he published in the 1920s. The Ministry extended Ricard’s initial project by publishing a fifth volume focusing on carpets produced in regions which he did not cover, particularly those of Marrakesh, Taza, and Azilal. Omar Amine Benabdallah, director of the Craft Office, justified the Ministry’s decision based on the fact that Ricard’s Corpus continues to remain a "valid reference." He explained that this new edition "finds its justification" in the Ministry’s desire to "complete the oeuvre of Ricard by incorporating regions, which for conjonctural reasons, he ignored." Benabdallah spelled out the Ministry’s purpose as consisting in three objectives, all of which had informed Ricard’s initial projects and the French reforms of Moroccan traditional industries, the first attempt of which dates, as we have seen, to some seventy years earlier. The first aim comprised cataloguing the different carpet types manufactured in the three regions, as well as preserving and underlining the cultural dynamics of the carpet industry as a national patrimony and a legitimate popular artistic expression. Once achieved, this step would facilitate the realisation of the two remaining practical objectives. This volume would help craft administrators and inspectors better control production and prices. And it would offer weavers easy-to-copy graphic models, which the Ministry deemed necessary to revive crafts and increase production. Ricard and the Ministry’s projects differed in one major aspect, though. Benabdallah clarified that the method Ricard had employed in classifying Moroccan carpets had only underscored the ethnic origins of craftsmen and artefacts and, as a result, offered a subjective explanation. The volume published by the Ministry, on the other hand, included descriptions of materials and techniques that would prove of great help to craftsmen.2 Recent attempts at disseminating graphic models have gone beyond governmental projects and have involved private initiatives, as well. In the mid-1980s, Mohamed Boukous, from Salé, published on his own a large format manual of the local renowned embroidery stitch, which also emulated French works. This book incorporates linear illustrations that have previously accompanied articles French scholars had published in journals such as Hesperis. The illustrations also recall drawings which French women directors and instructors had their ma’almat assistants and apprentices design and which they kept in the museums of the schools in order to keep a tight watch over production of their graduate students.3 Not all books published locally, however, shied from critiquing French scholarship. Othman Othman Ismail, an Egyptian historian and archaeologist who has lived and taught in Morocco, published more than

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a dozen volumes on historical monuments and crafts throughout the country. Encyclopaedic in their scope, these books have become "a much needed" reference by scholars in the field.4 In introducing one of Ismail’s works, Abd al-Ouahhab Ben Mansour, historian of the kingdom of Morocco, notes that the fact that they are published in Arabic makes them exceptionally valued. They fill a gap that has remained the specialty of Europeans and Americans for a long time.5 Ismail, though, defines his endeavor as a "humble contribution" that addresses Arab peoples as a whole and seeks to increase their awareness of their "Arab and Islamic" cultural heritage as well as assists them to achieve an Arab cultural "awakening" and "renaissance."6 Ismail focuses on the historical development of Moroccan architecture and arts applied to architecture, including stucco, decoration, calligraphy, pottery, and ceramics. He examines the positions French scholars held toward Moroccan history and arts and provides a summary of their arguments, a few of which we have already encountered. He explains that they had targeted the Arab identity of Morocco, because they had embraced the colonial ideology. The racist contempt they had towards Arabs is, for Ismail, incontrovertibly transparent in their texts. He points out that most of these scholars concluded hastily that Morocco declined whenever it came into direct contact with Arabs. He judges these scholars as "fanatics" whose vision of this country has been tinted by "the historical clash between the Orient and the West." They suffered from the same "complex of inferiority," and "fear and humility" which Westerners, in general, felt toward the achievements of Arab civilisation. As an act of cultural resistance, they began to belittle the role Arabs have played in developing Europe. They also feared that since Morocco had resisted over a long period to become a French colony, it would embark on "a Moroccan renaissance," which might challenge the French colonial plans. As a result, the scholars championed the Berbers while continuously disparaging the Arabs. 7 Ismail’s argument is the product of a particular mindset that overlooks the complex formation of Moroccan culture and the cultural exchanges it shared with the West. His contentions are tinted with PanArabist visions, which call on Arabs to recuperate and decolonise their history from frameworks Westerners have imposed on it. His assertions bring to the fore two tightly connected issues. The first calls for an easy practicality, the second for a new, but also highly simplified, historical understanding. The first underscores the "historical clash" between the French and Moroccans in order to drive home among Moroccans that they have to rely on themselves in rewriting their history. The second stresses that their history would continue to remain, even after independence, at the mercy of French and Western scholars if they fail the first

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task. Hence, they have to revisit their past not from French but from their own Arab perspective. They also have to re-examine colonial texts and scrutinise their ideological subtexts in the light of their nationalistic aspirations. I turn now to investigate how Moroccan fine artists dealt with these issues. I began this book by arguing that the approach adopted by contemporary Moroccan art historians and art critics towards Moroccan art represents an essentially Eurocentric approach. They situate local art production within an evolving stylistic model of changing aesthetic configurations. I made this observation in order to suggest that we need to locate the very idea of recovering and reconstructing the formation of postcolonial Moroccan art practices and aesthetics within a fundamental narrative process of colonial art education at large. Within this context, I have proposed alternative readings and considered non-elitist artistic production which, to date, have largely remained undiscussed by Moroccans. I propose to conclude this book by re-examining the artistic production of contemporary Moroccan artists and the ways in which they have approached their visual heritage. As I have argued, the French introduced into Morocco a mode of art education, both in the realm of the crafts and fine arts that maintained the supremacy of French artistic tenets but, at the same time, trained generations of Moroccans to accept and conform to the colonial artistic model. Yet, despite these measures, the domain of art became both a site of contestation as well as a fertile ground upon which Moroccan artists have explored and revisited their national identity. I make this connection between Moroccan artists and national identity in order to underscore the fact that many artists have channelled their art to parallel the different agendas of nationalists who fought for independence from French rule. The nationalists formed two groups. The secularists, who received their education in French schools, adopted Western patterns of thought and proposed modern secularist political, social, and cultural programs. The neo-Salafists, or neo-traditionalists, on the other hand, received their education in university mosques and sanctioned a political vision grounded in Islamic sources and traditions. We need, I believe, to bear these observations in mind if we wish to understand the cultural and psychological scope of the different positions Moroccan artists have embraced in their struggle for cultural decolonisation. In addressing the production of Moroccan artists as a counter-art which paralleled the national liberation movement, we should also acknowledge that the concern for decolonising art and culture did not concern Morocco only. Cultural authenticity appealed to other independent North African and Middle Eastern countries. In 1971, for example, the Syrians organised, in Damascus, the first Congrès des Arts

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Plastiques, an event which brought together artists from around the Arab World and led to the creation of the Pan-Arab Artists Association. A year later the Baghdad Al-Wassiti Festival in Iraq and the Hammamet Conference in Tunisia followed suit. Four years later, in 1976, Baghdad held the First Biennial of Arab artists, followed within two years by a second Biennial in Rabat, in Morocco. In 1984, the city of Tunis, the capital of Tunisia, organised a large exhibition of contemporary Arab art and, that same year, the Moroccans created the Cultural Festival in Asilah, which they still hold annually.8 Moroccan artists played a considerable role in articulating, in North Africa and the Middle East, a visual discourse that resisted cultural assimilation vis-à-vis Western cultural hegemony, but their contribution could be traced to an earlier date. Once independence achieved, in 1956, different groups of Moroccan artists claimed custody of Moroccan culture and identity. In what follows I wish to investigate the ways in which each group made use of the national visual heritage. In doing so, I suggest three categories. I designate the first group as the populists, mostly self-trained artists who depicted anecdotes from local daily life and myths. The second group, the nativists, broke entirely with French and Western art and posited their art as heir to and continuation of Moroccan traditional crafts, thus adhering to a sanctified image of what they assumed constituted "the" Moroccan art. In general, they grounded their struggle of cultural decolonisation in an epistemological rupture with Western art practices. The third group, the bipictorialists, promoted a reconciliation with Moroccan identity by acknowledging its multiple dimensions and by juxtaposing both Western and traditional pictorial elements in their work. Propositions promoted by the three groups tripolarised Moroccan art, strengthening the thesis that Moroccan art, akin to Moroccan identity, does not represent an easily definable subject.

The Populists The populists, including Ahmed Louardighi, Hassan el Glaoui, Moulay Ahmed Drissi, Hassan el Farouj, and Fatima el Farouj, for example, had no formal art training, though as we have seen in the previous chapter, a number of them benefited from the help of French and American patrons (figs. 9.1-2). They continued the tradition of popular paintings found in public spaces such as in coffee shops and private homes. Their work depicted the panorama of daily life, i.e. wedding ceremonies, scenes from public baths, among other subjects.

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I should note here that the term "naive" painting fails to do justice to these artists for, as the Moroccan sociologist, novelist, and literary and art critic, Abdelkebir Khatibi explained, an artist is no longer "naive" as soon as he or she becomes professional and has a definite cultural project.9 For example, Louardighi, who as we have seen Jacqueline Brodskis claimed to have "discovered" for his "naiveté" and "spontaneity," proved a fecund painter. Documents in Moroccan Archives estimate that in ten years he produced 1,000 paintings and participated in forty exhibitions, twelve of which outside Morocco.10 Louardighi practiced his art as an ideological interference. And although his work might appear spontaneous or unsophisticated or might even resemble ethnographic descriptions of Moroccan daily life, he endowed it with specific social meanings. He described his painting Mosquée marocaine (no 19) as addressing the status of Moroccan women as he perceived it. He explained that he depicted the woman larger than the man because, when she returned home, a professional woman still attended to domestic chores, while her husband could go out to meet his friends in coffee shops or movie theatres. Because the woman's role was more taxing than the man's, Louardighi saw it fit to represent her as a larger figure.11 The populists' celebration of the vernacular, the pleasures of the body, the unconscious, popular tales, and their concentration on the culture of marginalised Moroccans also refutes the elitist precepts of Modern French art, which designated them as "naive" artists. Utilising a Western pictorial vocabulary of flatness and linearity, they redeployed scenes loaded with designs, patterns, and colors inspired from the rich local crafts. The populists, most importantly, reworked Western pictorialism into new configurations, transforming it into a different language and infusing it with their own vocabulary. In their work, Western art underwent a reformulation of the syntax and grammar of pictorial elements, a transformation that reconstructed the borrowed language imported into the country by the French into a linguistically different expressive vehicle. Their adaptation of the French artistic means created a particular visual language and a culturally distinctive pictorial text in that it fractured the art standards of the ex-coloniser and restored Moroccan designs and imageries, which the French restricted to the domain of crafts. Rather than attempting to recover lost origins, their work demonstrated the possibility of a linguistic variation.

The Nativists Led by Farid Belkahia, the nativists broke entirely with French and

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Western art. They declared their art as heir to Moroccan traditional crafts which, they protested, the French had "ghettoised" in the medinas. They drew a messianic opposition between themselves and the West in general and the French in particular.12 They promoted Moroccan artistic culture as a single issue and employed a panoptic rationale, claiming that they could save their visual culture in a linear pattern of investigation. They inscribed Moroccan art in a simple formula devoid of any complex development. They firmly believed that the rejuvenation of Moroccan art had to revisit the colonial encounter and, in so doing, they reproduced judgments French scholars constructed round Moroccan arts as inherently different from French art. Their project overlooked the continued, discontinued, and heterogeneous relationship and history between France and Morocco. I have argued elsewhere that the nativists' work reiterated claims similar to those made by the neo-fundamentalist nationals who encouraged postcolonial Moroccans to decolonise their minds in order to promote a system of thought that best mirrored their cultural specificity.13 According to this argument, there existed two levels of alienation that resulted from the colonial experience, one caused by colonial exploitation became blatant at the political and economic level, the other, rooted in intellectual alienation, manifested itself at the psychological level. The nativists echo the remark made by Alber Memmi, the Tunisian novelist who, in theorising colonialism, stated that only through a "violent...return to and against the self" could the ex-colonised subjects overcome this double rupture. To achieve cultural independence, postcolonial subjects must, thus, "correspond to themselves" and find the right balance not only of "what they were and what they wanted to be" but "what they are making of themselves."14 To borrow Toni Maraini's expression, the nativists refused to become "Matisse's grand-sons."15 In their view, Moroccans should, as a general rule, refrain from reproducing Western art. They should, instead, struggle to win their right to speak and act according to their own selves, their own culture, and their own difference. Like the neo-fundamentalists, they constructed their discourse through the prism of a binary opposition, one in which the West never ceases to be the ever-present enemy, the foe Moroccans had to exorcise from within their psyche.16 This refusal of any dialogue with the West entailed a number of limitations, and impoverished the connotational complexity of the inherited Moroccan visual culture. Belkahia's work epitomises this polemic. He divides world cultures into the West as centre culture and the "Third World" as satellite cultures. Due to the "asphyxiating influence" Western culture has on satellite cultures, the latter often find themselves forced to engage in an inevitable mimesis of the former. To achieve full independence,

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they must, therefore, work from within their own identity orbits. Belkahia's thesis is ambiguous at best. He explains that as individuals, Moroccans represented cultural "mélanges" throughout their history. When anyone of them says that he or she is a "Moroccan" he or she commits an act of "mystification." But Belkahia is quick to add that no dialogue between the West and the postcolonial "Third World" could exist, because the former never allows the cultural specificity of the latter to take central stage.17 However, Belkahia also emphasised, on other occasions, that a Moroccan artist should claim his or her "Moroccanity" not within the limited and sectarian nationalist context, but should rather acknowledge the fact that his or her work sprang out of multivocal components drawn from "international" and "universal" sources.18 Here Belkahia grants full support to Maraini's remark that the concept of "Moroccanity" resulted from a "collections of roots" and "a junction of several cultures (Saharan, African, Iberian, Phoenician, Berber, Mediterranean, Middle Eastern and, finally, Arab and Islamic)."19 In spite of these claims, Belkahia continues to view French art in Morocco as sustaining the same epistemic violence found in colonial anthropological and ethnographic discourses produced during the Protectorate. Subsequently, he proposes his art as a paradigmatic model that allows a better use of the local visual heritage.20 He hypothesises that cultural independence does not necessarily parallel national liberation, because national liberation alone is a "pseudo-liberation," the beginning of one's own cultural decolonisation. True liberation must lead to the destruction of the total colonial cultural episteme. Colonial domination thrives, in his views, in present day Morocco, because Moroccans continue to sustain, consciously or unconsciously, the centrality of French culture in their minds. Belkahia explains that, because the West had made great advances in the field of visual arts, "I cannot compete with them on their own terrain." He strives to "cultivate" and become fully aware of "my own difference," instead.21 He encourages his fellow artists to produce a particular Moroccan art by revisiting pre-colonial art practices. The Moroccan art critic, Edmond Amran El-Maleh, expounded on this point by asserting that a Moroccan artwork is possible and that it could embody a "valid" expression, but only by employing local materials including wood, brass, and leather as well as local signs, forms, designs, and colors.22 Only then could Moroccan artists express their nationalist identity. Also on a number of occasions, Belkahia spoke against the image of the artists as isolated and mute social subjects unaware of their social role.23 He believes that true artists live "in," not "on the margin" of soci-

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ety. Artists no longer have an exceptional social status than the average men. Only their awareness of the particular role they have to perform in uncovering the richness of their artistic heritage differentiates them from their fellow countrymen.24 Belkahia and the nativists have an adamant position in advocating the affirmations of Moroccan identity as crucial to cultural decolonisation. To this end, they only employed traditional craft materials and practices which they contend the French had "apartheidised" in the medinas. They claimed that borrowing the vocabulary of either Academic Fine Arts or Western Modern Art would hinder the formation of a true Moroccan cultural identity. Seeking solidarity with local craftsmen, they practiced their art as an act of resistance and non-compliance to Western values. In other words, they attempted to initiate the "birth" of a modern Moroccan art from within the medinas' workshops. Both Belkahia and Hassan Slaoui, for example, assimilated techniques from artisans and both asserted that the significant lesson they learned was the respect craftsmen showed toward materials they employed. In constructing his sculptures which he built to resemble smooth stones and marble, Slaoui bought bones from butchers and prepared them according to the traditional recipes by boiling them in a solution of water, soap, and bleach, before juxtaposing them with other traditional supplies including gold thread, resin based glue, and gum Arabic. Belkahia, similarly, purchased animal skins from slaughter houses, polished and worked them following traditional procedures, before inscribing them with Moroccan tattoo symbols in henna, saffron, and sumac25 (figs. 9.3-4). Moroccans credit Belkahia and the nativists as the initiators of a project that aimed at preserving and cataloguing the Moroccan national visual culture, i.e. visual images which they assembled from crafts and popular arts.26 However, Belkahia, Slaoui, and those who champion their agenda seem to either forget or ignore that the project of preserving and collecting Moroccan visual culture had, as I have demonstrated throughout this book, been undertaken previously by the French. The nativists practiced their ideals as artists and as educators. While director of the Casablanca School of Fine Arts (1964-1972), Belkahia and faculty members, including Mohamed Melihi and Mohamed Chabaa, known as the Casablanca Group (see Introduction) implemented what he called a "democratisation" of the curriculum, a concept, as he claims, he had derived from American art schools. Students collaborated with instructors on projects in which they integrated local crafts as a visual and legitimate artistic source, a strategy Belkahia appropriated mainly from the Bauhaus experience without acknowledging that this pedagogical method had also stood at the core of the vocational schools created by the French. During the three-year program they spent at the school, students had close con-

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tact with traditional crafts. Previous fine arts workshops began teaching manual training in carpet weaving and pottery throwing. Students copied specific craft items before producing individual and collective works, which the faculty exhibited at the school at the end of each year.27 In 1964, for example, they prepared the annual exhibition by working together on a project at the cultural centre in Casablanca. Student architects drafted the plan and constructed maquettes (architectural scaled

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models), while ceramicists produced interior design pieces, weavers executed carpets, and decorators completed wall paintings.28 The members of the Casablanca Group contended that they have transgressed the rigid definition that separated art and craft. They attempted to create a close relation between the two as well as between artists and craftsmen. They encouraged their students to find visual solutions and paradigms from within their culture. In the painting workshop he managed, Melihi collaborated with his students in producing monochrome

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and coloured abstract compositions inspired by ceiling decorations, carpets, and jewellery. In the calligraphy workshop, Chabaa and his studied Arabic calligraphy, not as a linguistic system, but as pictorial signs, extracting its visual and gestural dynamism,29 (figs. 9.5-6) The ceramic workshop put emphasis on the exploration of local raw materials, and students learned the use of local dyes and glazes. In general, as Jacques Azema, a French artist who rallied to the Group and taught painting at the school after independence explained, the role of the instructors consisted namely in teaching students to differentiate between le "bon et le mauvais," that is to differentiate the "good" from the "bad" in art--a concept which, as we might recall from the previous chapter, Jacqueline Brodskis held essential while managing the Open Workshops. However, Belkahia and his colleagues turned Brodskis’ agenda on its head. They taught students to discriminate between what was useful to the development of "an authentic" Moroccan art and what was "contaminated" by the West.30 In underpinning traditional crafts as the corner stone of local "visual regeneration,"31 they broke entirely with Western art paradigms. Beginning in 1969, they refused to exhibit in official galleries and museums and, instead, displayed their work in public spaces, including Jamaa al-Fana in Marrakesh. They inculcated this vision in their students who, the same year, organised their end of the year exhibition in public places in Casablanca. Definitions of Moroccan national heritage also differed among the faculty members. Azema, for example, stood on a middle ground in that

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his major argument synthesised the views of Simone Gruner, Jacqueline Brodskis, and the nativists and seems closer to the bipictorialists (fig. 9.7). He believed that the preservation of Moroccan visual heritage should combine a return to crafts as well as an adoption of Western arts. In a lecture to the students, he stated that, as future Moroccan artists, they primarily had to muster their talents in reviving crafts. This, he asserted, was a realisable cultural project, because they had already "inherited an artistic sensibility" from their culture.32 The crossing of French and Moroccan cultures into one another under the Protectorate gave birth, in his view, to hybrid aesthetics. Students should, therefore, frame their objective of rescuing their visual heritage in both a sound understanding of the principles of fine arts and the tenets of crafts. They should not, however, depend solely on their taste because it, alone, cannot enable them to fully estimate the gravity of the task ahead. He warned them against developing "bad taste," because it was contagious and had to be "weeded out." They should not make general judgements or adopt "fashionable ideas" from fear that they would sound "dépassés." On the other hand, they should not rely on their "instinctive hostility" toward the West while judging contemporary Western art, because they could not comprehend its meaning, yet. A real connoisseur, Azema stressed, judged works of art based on their "intrinsic qualities." Azema advised the students that, if they wished to help Moroccan crafts become a legitimate vehicle capable of engendering a national cultural expression, they had to open their minds and study aesthetic expressions and concepts other than their own. Artists throughout the world had already embarked on the same ship; long had gone the time when schools of arts developed and perpetuated in isolation. Modern communications, the spread of visual culture through the printed image, television, and cinema brought every visual expression into the open. Azema asserted that on occasions one had to "leave himself to better understand his self." Only a "detour" via the arts of the world could assist students to restore their visual heritage as a vital expression. They should learn local geometric and floral ornaments, side by side with Islamic designs and calligraphy, figurative paintings and miniatures from Iraq, Egypt, and Iran, as well as works by modern Western artists representing different art movements, including Impressionism, post-Impressionism, and Cubism. Though they might appear to have different concerns, Azema insisted, all these schools and artists share the interests local craftsmen have, namely to better understand form, composition, and colours.

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The Bipictorialists The bipictorialists agreed with the nativists on cultural decolonisation but only in so far as this project promotes a plural articulation of difference. To the bipictorialists cultural decolonisation had to struggle against its own tendencies of cultural reductionism. They confirmed that the Moroccan experience with colonialism predated the Protectorate, and that Moroccan identity jutted out of an amalgam of historically plural realities. In their works Ahmed Cherkaoui and Jilali Gharbaoui (figs. 9.8-9), for example, incorporated Moroccan tattoo symbols, carpet designs, and architectural forms in a Western medium, and unlike the nativists, they encouraged a cultural rapprochement with the French and the West. I propose to read the pictorial text of the bipictorialists as the affirmation of what the Moroccan poet and literary critic, Mohamed Bennis, called the "plurality of the One," as opposed to one pictorial language and one national visual identity.33 This argument proposes that any Moroccan carries within himself and herself his and her Berber, pre-Islamic, Islamic, Arab, and Western colonial past. The work of the bipictorialists called on Moroccans to free their minds from their own theological episteme in order to bring together their contrasting cultural and heritagial elements, allowing each to speak its own distinctiveness. Whereas the work of the nativists remained monologic and called for a sanctified image of the self, that of the bipictorialists pointed to the fact that postcolonial subjects are not simply vessels but, to use Edward Said's expression, "traveller" human beings,34 aware of the cultural and political barriers imposed on them by the nationalist discourse on cultural production. This means that only by including the two voices, that of the self and that of the other, could the nationalistic discourse end the strangulation of its own structure. Only then could the tension between the two lessen. A re-reading of Moroccan art could only be achieved in a polyphonic voice in which the subject/author addresses the other in the very act of structuring his or her narration.35 The bipictorialist played the role of cultural mediators between France, the West, and Morocco. Instead of becoming oppositional, their work strove toward inclusion and openness. It called on both camps, Moroccans and French, to revisit their encounter and rethink their relationship. It stressed the necessity of adopting a "travelling theory"36 or what the Moroccan historian, Abdellah Labdaoui, had designated as the "passage back and forth between...two [cultural] river banks."37 No longer was France or the West the eternal enemy and Morocco a permanent victim. As a discursive intervention, this debate problematised the ideological, philosophical, and historical governing epistemes of both camps.

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A few years after he left the teaching staff of the Casablanca school and began to distant himself from Belkahia, Melihi observed that artists who wished their art to play a dynamic role in the construction of their national identity should not have a unifocal vision,38 since culture is a problematic constantly changing and permanently metamorphising. The bipictorialists’ juxtaposition of local signs and symbols with Western technology depicted what Moroccan art historian, Khalil M'rabet, has called an identity and "a memory in the becoming."39 Maraini, in a latter essay, also seemed to agree with this observation noting that such works stand as the production of "transhumans [and] migrants between cultures."40 Khatibi goes a step further when he indicates that there exist pictorial boundaries even between a single culture, just as cultural boundaries exist between different cultures.41 These remarks reinforce the thesis that an artist is a bridge through which the local and the universal, the national and the international cross. Similar to bilingualism, bipictorialism by its very nature, constitutes a "frontalière" cultural expression, one which is fashioned not only by the passage of one cultural form into another, but also by combining the two forms into a new one.42 The bipictorialists produced an antithetical art that opposed both the agenda of French hegemonic culture and the artistic orthodoxy imposed by the nativists. Far from emphasising the adoption of the art language of the other as a form of cultural submission, they underscored acculturation as the recognition of the role the other performed in the formation of the self. The use by the bipictorialists of Western media and Moroccan iconography involved a double strategy. It decontextualised French art and, in so doing, adopted it as a valuable vehicle that includes the French in a dialogism of equals. They reworked the once dominant art, that of the ex-coloniser, within the context of local visual heritage and reinterpreted it to best express the cultural tension that resulted from the colonial experience. To this end, they promoted a reconciliation with the split self. Their use of French and Western materials underlined not a hasty adoption of fashionable Western art, but rather an endeavour to render the art of the ex-coloniser thinkable to Moroccans. The act of merging together two distinct visual cultural forms demystifies the taboos in which the nativists have circumscribed their own visual heritage. The works of the populists, the nativists, and the bipictorialists produced a schism within the Moroccan art scene and artistic discourse. The populists employed Western mediums and continued a long popular visual tradition of a figurative representation of Moroccan daily life. The nativists defined their approach as grounded in the local visual tradition of crafts. They bridged the gap between the artist and the craftsman and defined their role as giving shape to a nationalistic art with a

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verifiable authenticity. The paradigm pushed forth by the bipictorialists encouraged Moroccans to dialogue with the French and the West and underlined the intertexual processes of absorption and transformation during the resulting encounter. They stressed the "exterior" (the excoloniser) and the "interior" (the ex-colonised), and the "vertical" and the "horizontal" dimensions of colonial discourse. Nothing in the Moroccan Protectorate society seems to have escaped the imprint of metropolitan ideology. Morocco lived under the French colonial administration for only forty-two years, but during this relatively short period the French succeeded in introducing numerous reforms that transformed almost all aspects of Moroccan society, including its art and craft productions, into a Cartesian model of the "mother country." Towards this end the colonial authorities, using French models and ideological premises, designed systems of art and handicraft training among new lines. By so doing, they strove to instil modern work ethics and European concepts of time and streamline production in order to prepare the local workforce for the transition to industrialism useful in peacetime and war. Crafts as well as fine arts felt the weight of new materials and new conceptions of work and design. Once Moroccan students graduated from the craft workshops and fine arts studios, both of which the French established, they introduced the new techniques and ideas they have learned in the traditional workshops where they worked. In this way, French authorities hoped to spread French methods and techniques and even European civilisation itself. Moroccans gravitated to the French workshops and schools and learned their lessons well. The French ethos permeated craft and fine art productions, revitalising both. The marriage of the new with the old transformed both handicrafts and fine arts into saleable commodities which the French, Europeans, Americans, and middle class Moroccans purchased. Today crafts and arts flourish in the country but, as part of decolonisation, Moroccan artists have searched for new strategies and materials to employ in conjunction with local symbols. They have tried to rediscover and integrate in their work the Moroccan past which the colonial experience had irredeemably transformed.

CHAPTER ONE: FRAMING MOROCCO'S CRAFTS

For the French Protectorate to survive in Morocco, Hubert Lyautey, the first Resident General (1912-1925), allowed the Moroccans to evolve in a state of quasi autonomy. He kept the different Moroccan ethnic groups isolated, Arabs in the medinas (walled cities) and the Berbers in the countryside. At the same time, he protected and attempted to modernise their traditional industries of craft production, consisting of leather goods, carpet weaving, pottery, brass and metal smithing, ceramics, and wood and plaster carvings. He hypothesised that this initiative would enable Moroccans to gain economic independence and allow the French to freely pursue their agenda. Modernised Moroccan industries would easily find buyers in French and other European markets. In this task Lyautey drew theoretical and polemical support for his initiatives from the writings of French Orientalists, archaeologists, ethnographers, and Arabists, or what M. Bourgeois, an administrator in the Protectorate Administration, called "the eminent" and "distinguished specialists," including Prosper Ricard, Jacques Berque, Henry Terrasse, George Hardy, Roger Le Tourneau, J. Hainaut,1 and others. Some of them had already served in the Algerian and Tunisian colonial administrations. Their texts offered Lyautey the required scholarly support. In an attempt to partially assimilate Morocco into France, they created a direct ideological link between the protector and the protected. They "unearthed" Berber regions either as a "Western country inhabited by Orientals," or as a "chunk of Spain," as the "Andalusia of Africa," or as the natural extension of France, the successor of the Roman Empire. Above all, they claimed that the Arabs had conquered and subjugated the Berbers by force.2 These assumptions lie behind this chapter, which concerns the methods with which French scholars studied and catalogued Moroccan

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crafts. They grounded the general methodological framework of their arguments in what Janet Abu-Lughod has called a "chain of transmission" among themselves. Abu-Lughod, in examining and criticising a number of Western scholarly texts which purported to extract the essence of "the Islamic city," showed how these works took on the form of Isnad, or transmission. During his lifetime, the Prophet Mohamed ordered the Koran to be written down but not his Sunnah, or traditions, including his conduct and sayings. Hence, after his death Muslims located their statements and narratives about his Sunnah in a sequence of connections reaching back to the first person who witnessed the Prophet's acts or enunciations. Western scholars authenticated their claims about the Islamic city by employing a strategy similar to Isnad in that they positioned their contentions in "a chain of authenticity," alongside a body of literature by their forerunners.3 In this chapter I argue that French scholars who dealt with the Moroccan craft industries and guilds substantiated their arguments by drawing on the authority of each other. Because they were concerned with the "criteria of authority," their subsequent essays and books purporting to describe the essence of Moroccan crafts constantly reiterated several themes. They constructed a theoretical justification that kept these crafts divided within ethnic zones, arguing that they lacked the high quality of Western art, and that the guilds were archaic institutions that needed reforms. The aim of this chapter, therefore, is to set the stage for a discussion of subsequent French interventions, the subject of the following chapter.

French Colonial Analysis of Moroccan Crafts In a paper given at the Paris Conférence économique Impériale (1935), Prosper Ricard, then Head of the Moroccan Craft Bureau, recapitulated the different positions he had embraced since his arrival in Morocco in 1912-1913 from Algeria, where he had occupied a similar office. His views became the foundation on which later French scholars constructed their arguments. He defined Moroccan crafts as the product of local traditional industries,4 thereby constructing these craft productions congruent to Lyautey's goal to intervene in, but not overly disturb, the economy of the medinas. Ricard conflated the nature of craft and industry, and then used this equation to characterise the nature and processes of producing crafts. He presupposed that craftsmen transformed either local or imported raw materials into utilitarian objects destined largely for local use and the tourist trade and, more sporadically, for foreign markets. Second, he underlined a claim that runs throughout writings of other scholars namely that, as the backbone of the Moroccan

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economy, guilds controlled crafts. The scholars explained that in the medinas guilds provided salaried occupations to half the population who made their living from practicing crafts. In addition to their economic functions, guilds, as social institutions, structured the social and moral life of Moroccans. Though crafts had existed for almost a millennium, no written documents or oral traditions provided any evidence for the rules and regulations of the guilds. Consequently they suffered from archaism and disorder. Ricard argued that Moroccan crafts had survived not because of sound politics of organised labour, but because "the country has remained introverted and folded on itself, preserving intact its aesthetics, its tastes, and its traditional needs."5 I will provide a detailed discussion of guilds below, but for now I wish to emphasise that they did play an important role in harnessing solidarity among craftsmen. They had enough force to mobilise them into a unit and encourage them to respect a whole set of traditional tenets, codes, as well as aesthetic judgments. The French authorities contended that they had to protect these social institutions from the shocks which the sudden introduction of mass-produced Western goods and the new mechanised means of production would ultimately bring. Ricard and other scholars addressed local craft productions according to a system of practices and beliefs that a group of craftsmen shared. They further segmented the craftsmen according to their ethnicity, class, and gender. The scholars added mythological beliefs to this system of categorisation, as when Renée Bazet, head of the Rabat vocational school for Moroccan women, took on the study of the Rabat carpets and women's weaving production (Chapter Five). As a self-fulfilling prophecy, the principal forms of such grouping, which appeared in the texts by the scholars, reflected Lyautey's divisive colonial vision. The scholars pinpointed which social beliefs and cultural practices belonged to a group of craftsmen, and the rules that governed each member of the group. In studying Moroccan crafts in this fashion they drew the following generalisations: a) Artistic elements found in the craft produced by an ethnic group were widely and commonly shared by each member of the group. b) Artistic elements of each craft systematically cut groups off from each other. c) These assumptions in turn represent the central components of the conceptual scheme in the belief system of the group and have a deep influence on the behaviour of each group. In this scheme of essentialising and sectarian categorisation, the scholars contrasted "urban" with "rural" crafts. Ricard viewed "urban crafts" as "Islamic" in essence, and not Moroccan proper. They reached Morocco from Syria and Persia as Muslim conquerors moved into North

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Africa in the eighth century. Arab Muslims in Morocco practiced them in the large cities. The steady contact urbanite Muslims kept with the Middle East through commerce, the pilgrimage to Mekkah, the holy city in the Arabian Peninsula, gifts Moroccan Sultans exchanged with their Middle Eastern counterparts, as well as the introduction of foreign women into local harems, caused these crafts to undergo a continued, but not substantial, change.6 The scholars held that urban crafts, including carpets and pottery, displayed floral designs, and polygonal intricate laces, all deployed in either supple or rigid epigraphy. Ricard labelled urban crafts as commercial in nature, because artisans in real professions, generally grouped in guilds, produced them. Rural crafts, on the other hand, Berber in essence, belonged to Morocco. They had longer histories than urban crafts, and Berbers produced them in isolated regions in the mountains. These crafts comprised carpets, mats made of reeds, pottery, jewellery, blankets, cabinet making among other items, and they manifested artistic expression and authenticity.7 Always immutable, they exhibited an almost exclusive use of geometric patterns and linear motifs. The scholars completed this categorisation with a subcategory consisting of female crafts practiced by both rural and urban women. For Ricard, these crafts "by their very nature belonged to outsiders,"8 because women made them for personal ends, and they remained relatively free from all external control. Also free from all commercial rules, they became very expensive. The scholars claimed that Arab and Berber crafts did not seem to have interacted. Just as the French authorities maintained that Arabs and Berbers belonged to two different ethnic groups, each with its particular culture, the scholars, too, sustained a rigid separation between their crafts. The scholars nevertheless defined the properties of the two types loosely; and they investigated, but rarely substantiated, the interconnections between the craft practices of each ethnic group and its belief system. As a rule, the scholars defined Moroccan crafts in opposite terms to Western arts, and therefore exalted a traditional Orientalist view.9 Arabs and Berber crafts alike lacked what the French and Westerners considered a "style,"10 because Moroccan aesthetic concepts and technical know-how had developed little through the ages. Though Arab crafts had a trait of epochal differences, their fundamental attributes did not change. According to Henri Terrasse, a French archaeologist and art historian, Moroccan Arab craftsmen had no reflective abilities. They produced essentially utilitarian artefacts and could not imagine other roles these items might have played. To justify this claim, Terrasse charged that Moroccan Arabs could conceive of an external world, but could not conceive of their own existence and, hence, primitive desires and tendencies

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framed their lives. They submitted to their passions, but could not stipulate them. They failed to specify the artistic taste of their "race," and could not define the elements and ideas that inspired the craft productions surrounding them. They practiced crafts they did not originate, and their social and cultural practices were dictated by an uncompromising general view they held of society and the role of the artefacts they made. This view of society and of the self hindered and rendered ineffectual the progress of any programmatic credo that their crafts could have had; that is, the action program Arab craftsmen relied on consisted of not interfering in the cultural practices and artistic traditions they inherited from their ancestors. Terrasse criticised Moroccan Arabs for manufacturing and consuming handicrafts without analysing either production or consumption methods. Their crafts, though rich and abundant, remained, nevertheless, vague, imprecise, and their aesthetic properties undefined. Craftsmen expressed themselves through arabesque, a configuration of monotonous and repetitive forms, an art expression mostly found in the medinas. Terrasse condemned the whole country as "the kingdom of arabesques" and admonished arabesque as an "art of dreaming," as the "enemy of variation," because it "lull[ed] all energy and desire for artistic creation." Above all, arabesque underlined for Terrasse the "troubled soul" of the "mysterious," yet "voluptuous," "languishing," yet "decadent" Morocco.11 For this reason Georges Hardy, the second General Director of Public Education, in agreement with Ricard, argued that French scholars interested in studying Moroccan crafts, had to focus their investigations not in the Arab medinas but in the Berber mountains. Far from viewing the decline of the Moroccan craft industries as the result of the invasion of foreign mass-produced goods, Hardy charged that, as a general rule, the "decay" resulted from the manner in which Arabs fossilised their crafts in their daily lives. He acknowledged the decorative value of Arab crafts, but contended that their decorativeness had no soul and embellished utilitarian objects only. Urban crafts survived in dwindling guilds, and craftsmen concerned themselves mainly with earning a living without disturbing old forms and without spending too much energy. The intensity of Berber handicrafts production, however, despite its "technical imperfection," its clumsy composition, and general linearity, delivered much richer, varied, and grander objects.12 The scholars gave value to separate traditions, and never allowed Arab and Berber crafts to intermingle. The two, they claimed, evolved independently in peculiar circumstances and had qualities proper to their distinct natures. Though the scholars championed Berber crafts as superior to Arab crafts, they maintained that neither had the properties of Western art.

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For Terrasse and Hainaut, another French archaeologist and art historian, Western art history was inscribed in a set of art movements, while Berber crafts derived from sets of different tribes, and hence, they belied cohesive aesthetic notions and values which would have endowed them with the attributes of Western art. In them, Berber artisans confused artistic expressions with technique, the procedures of composition, and know-how, which varied from one tribe to another, underscoring differences in geographical locations and their independence from Arab influences.13 For Hardy, Arab craftsmen failed to understand art's programmatic sense as Western artists did, in that art has its own rules of aesthetic expression which required periodical changes and necessary decentralisations of pictorial elements. Arab craftsmen, he explained, "neglected the production of life [and] even renounced symbols."14 Jacques Berque, a sociologist and M. Delmas-Fort, an administrator, asserted much more cynically a generalisation that characterised both Arab and Berber artisans. Berque alleged that the peculiarities of Moroccan craftsmen included their "holy inertia"15 their "archaism", their "over-proud traditionalism," the "tranquillity" in which they fossilised for centuries, and their "incompatibility with the Western rhythm" of production.16 For Delmas-Fort, the dilemma of Moroccan industries had its roots in the country’s essential particularism, which consisted of "anarchism," "xenophobia," and "introversion against all external influence."17 Well after the Protectorate, historian, Roger Le Tourneau, still reiterated in the mid-1960s the charge of sclerosis, demonstrating that the numbers which Leo Africanus, during his travels through Morocco at the turn of the sixteenth century, had given of the people involved in the Fez craft industries equalled the number found in the 1898 French consulate reports and also those found in the official census twenty years after the establishment of the Protectorate.18 Moroccan Arab architecture, the sum of a number of crafts including stone and wood sculpting, painting, mosaics, and calligraphy, met the same fate in French literature. In spite of the abundant mosques, madrassas (schools or universities attached to mosques), palaces, and houses, the scholars viewed urban architecture as having a degenerate artistic expression compared to that originally found in its Eastern Islamic ancestor. For Terrasse and Hainaut, throughout its history, Moroccan architecture "had little to express, for it neglected to represent the signs of [an active] mind as well as those of [an active] life. It remained purely decorative, devoid of concepts; always resembling itself, it was applied to the palace and to the mosque never more than a splendid external cloth."19 Similarly, Ricard argued that all attempts to locate a desire for artistic renewal in architectural forms ended stillborn. Architecture displayed very efficiently the fundamentals of urban aesthetics, a rehash of old recipes which craftsmen held

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very dear from the time of al-Moravid dynasty in the eleventh century to the Alaouis in the twentieth centuries.20 Maurice Le Glay takes this act of representing the entire Islamic Arab civilisation as unproductive and without artistic force a step further. Le Glay, an administrator, asserted that Muslim Spain, not North Africa or the Middle East, fertilised Islamic civilisation. There art and science flourished. Morocco played the simple role of a repository to which the Moors brought their crafts after they lost Spain in the fifteenth century. Once Spanish crafts contacted Moroccans, he lamented, they began to wane and subside in decay.21

Lyautey's Native Policy and Flexible Approach The French scholars' inquiry into Moroccan crafts epitomised a mix of empirical data, overarching, non-cognitive, and non-explained cultural traits, all of which they intentionally linked to Moroccans and their culture. A further remark contained in these accounts bears particular relevance to the relationship between these texts as scholarship with a specific colonial ideological outlook. Colonial texts, Malek Alloula has argued, had the power to carry within them a basic dichotomy and played a twofold role. In his case study of colonial postcards produced in Algeria, representing Algerian women, he maintained that, as discursive texts, these postcards exhibited colonial ideology. They "reveal what [they] hold back"; that is "the right of (over) sight that the coloniser arrogates to himself and that is the bearer of multiform violence."22 French texts on Moroccan crafts, likewise, stand as a practice of concealment. The scholars catalogued, archivised, stereotyped, and made Moroccan crafts ready for the consumption of the French colonial machinery, yet they did so without displaying this agenda. Behind the general outline of scholarship and behind the explicit attempt to establish itself as a legitimate field of knowledge, the body of texts kept the colonial outlook of their authors hidden. The literature confirmed, nevertheless, the claim that the reforms of the Moroccan craft industries undertaken by the Protectorate Administration should be praised as Lyautey's personal and humanitarian gesture to better the lives of the Moroccans. Lyautey did, indeed, dramatically change many colonial policies the French had towards the Moroccans. Yet, the greatest significance of his policy lies in his theory that the French had to protect the Moroccan sector, i.e. the medinas, and that they should separate Moroccans spatially from the French. As protector of the "native sector," Lyautey never formalised his attitude into a science. Rather, the position developed as a practical skill thanks to the investigations and reports of an abundant and specialised literature. French scholars, too, never promoted their texts as

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scientific accounts, but as legitimate reports based on field inquiries conducted with Moroccan assistance, and which embodied empirical observations similar to those in the natural sciences. Take the 1924 survey by Louis Massignon, one of the best French Orientalists and Arabists.23 In this monumental tour de force of information gathering undertaken under Lyautey's direct orders, Massignon provided lists of the guilds in Morocco's major urban centres, including Fez, Meknes, Rabat, Salé, Casablanca, Marrakesh, Oujda, Taza, Sefrou, Mazagan (now El Jedida), Mogador(now Essaouira), Beni Mellal as well as guilds in smaller towns. The survey also contained valuable data concerning the guilds' hierarchies, specialties, divisions of labour, commissions, sales, social codes, rituals, formalities, foreign influences, in addition to an index of local names and expressions. In short, the scholars wrote their texts as practical guides. To assist their staff, the French authorities disseminated and published this operative knowledge, though in sanitised versions which abstained from revealing their colonial ideology, in colonial and Orientalist journals including Hesperis, Revue du Monde Musulman, Bulletin de l'enseignement public au Maroc, France-Maroc, Afrique Française, and in independent papers in Morocco and France. This literature widely credited Lyautey as the protector of Moroccan craft industries and as a humanitarian entrepreneur. In the words of contemporary French historian, Daniel Rivet writing in 1999, Lyautey represented a "Third Republic Colonial Lord" who played a crucial role in directing the French Empire. A complex man of "extremes," "a futurist," and "an admirer of America," he modernised Morocco to such an extent that impressed many of his contemporary colonial officials in the Empire. Yet in the spirit of a devoted antique collector, he preserved the "archaic" facade of Morocco for tourist consumption. To Moroccans who feared their country would meet the same fate as Algeria, he declared that "we have total respect for your faith, your traditions, your institutions, and your social and protocol codes."24 Lyautey succeeded, the French scholars claimed, in articulating and implementing this project due in part to his talent as an ideal generator of a skilful "native policy," and as the architect of a flexible colonial ideology. A seasoned colonial officer, he formulated his "native policy" during a long career that stretched from Indochina to Algeria. He drew lessons from the trials and mistakes committed by his counterparts in Algeria and Tunisia, which he viewed as laboratories for the Protectorate of Morocco. In Algeria the assimilation project, foreign trade competition, and a full fledged attempt to relocate French and European industrialists in the colony's large urban centres, contributed to the weakening of the local crafts. Only late in the 1890s, sixty years after the occupation started, did

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colonial administrators begin noticing the degradation of industries in the important urban centres of Tlemcen and Algiers. The French policy makers championed the total assimilation of Algeria into France, because they believed that Algerian Muslims could naturally progress into French "evolués," give up their culture, their crafts and traditional techniques, and learn European methods to meet the demands made by European industrialists. Vocational trade schools in Algeria ran on European curricula including carpentry, mechanics, masonry for men and crochet and European couture for women. Algerian Muslims of course did not prosper, because the schools did not address their cultural demands and economic needs. After this experience of failed assimilation the French decided that Muslims should evolve in their proper social and cultural context. Consequently, during the first decade of the twentieth-century, the French established vocational craft schools, where master-labourers worked side by side with their apprentices. In 1905 they organised an exhibition of traditional handicrafts and created a museum in Algiers. A drawing office, consisting of graphic documentation, provided authentic models of artefacts from the museum and individual collections. Field reports studied crafts produced by women. The colonial administration and French private organisations supported the mission of the schools, which soon reached the pre-Saharan regions, thanks to the help provided by the Sisters of the missionary organisation of Notre-Dame of Africa. Annual exhibitions at Algiers Madrassa supplied the necessary propaganda. In 1924 the General Government created the Oeuvre d'Artisanat which aided Algerian Muslim craftsmen throughout the country to become self-employed.25 Algeria served as a laboratory for the Protectorate of Tunisia. At the turn of the twentieth century the Tunisian Regency expanded the Bardo Museum in Tunis by adding a division for local crafts, initiating scrupulous analysis and cataloguing. Following the Algerian example, Tunisian French officials launched vocational schools for women. They also revived the dying local embroidery, thus revitalising a proud Tunisian craft. Under the advice and guidance of Ricard himself, other schools emerged, including those for weaving. These followed a curriculum that integrated theory and practice. Thanks to their workshops, the modern Jacquard mechanical weaving system reached North Africa. It still flourishes in the town of Mahdia. The Regency sent a number of these schools' graduates to complete their training in Lyon, France. In 1914, the Regency founded the Institute of Arts and Craft in an attempt to modernise craft industries and, in 1929, created a financial fund to assist local craft cooperatives.26 Morocco benefited from both the Algerian and Tunisian colonial

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reforms. Contemporary American urban anthropologist, Kenneth Brown, has argued that although the French conquest of Algeria pulled Morocco out of isolation, Morocco, up untill the middle of the nineteenth century, kept its resources and products within its borders, due in part to a fifty per cent tax imposed by the Makhzen on foreign imports.27 During the second half of the century, a period of monetary instability, the country grew more dependent on international trade. Throughout this era, craft industries experienced both affluence and indigence. Right through the first decade of the twentieth century Morocco continued to grow more dependent on foreign powers. The 1906 International Act of Algeciras opened the major markets of Fez, Meknes, Rabat, and Salé to outside products, thereby increasing Moroccan misery among craftsmen. At the time of the establishment of the Protectorate six year later, external competition over Moroccan markets had already saturated them to the detriment of local industries. The general standards of living declined because of continued currency depreciation and the rise in the cost of living. Craftsmen benefited less as imported mass-produced and cheap items submersed the medinas. With the creation of the Protectorate, the French built ports, roads, railroads, and brought with them other means of modern transport, including steam ships, locomotives, and airplanes. Import of European mass-produced items intensified and caused traditional industries to plummet further. New taxes imposed by the Makhzen led to the collapse of many craft businesses. Contact with foreigners also introduced changes in local taste and consumption patterns. Moroccan students and soldiers began wearing clothes manufactured in Europe. Linoleum replaced straw mats, and machine-made carpets imported from Manchester began appearing in the homes of the Moroccan bourgeoisie. In his search to save the craft industries from further decay, Lyautey mobilised French scholars and ordered them to study and report how the administration could stop their disintegration. The 1912-1913 Rabat-Salé report conducted by Ricard, the first in a long series, demonstrated the economic value crafts had for the medinas. Similar studies followed on the social role handicrafts industries played in Fez, Meknes, and Marrakesh. French scholars suggested ways to protect these industries, but World War I halted initial reforms. Additionally, France's demands for Morocco's raw materials robbed the craftsmen of these vital supplies. Throughout the War, very cheap Japanese plastic shoes flooded the markets. Other foreign commodities continued to titillate the fancies of Moroccans, especially the Fassi bourgeoisie (from Fez). As the Tharaud brothers, French travellers and novelists, observed at the end of the 1920s, while visiting Fez, the city’s bourgeoisie admired such items for "their perfect elegance" and by, purchasing them, set stylistic standards for the rest of the country. The Tharauds

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added that "from anywhere they arrive[d], from Lyon, Manchester, or elsewhere, silk and cotton goods [became] fashionable in Marrakesh, Meknes or Rabat, only after they have passed through the [Fez] Qaissaria [commerce district] where the Fassi [inhabitant of Fez] endow[ed] them with his stamp of good taste."28 Japanese imports ruined local silk manufacturing. Tanners lost the internal market to European merchandise entering Morocco via the port of Mogador (now Essaouira). In order to survive, a number of shoemakers had to mechanise their craft. English cotton products, French silk items, mostly from Lyon, and German fabrics also overwhelmed the local weaving industry, and ended up in shops in the medinas and rural areas alike. To underscore the level of despair Moroccan industries suffered, French scholars employed strong language, alluding to the invasion of European industries of Moroccan markets, which the French businesses aimed at monoplosing. Ricard, for example, explained that Austrian and Italian foliage patterned textiles had successfully "subdued" locally produced needlework, embroidery, and lacework. Machine-made Manchester carpets "wiped out" Rabat carpets from urban stores. Glassware, porcelain, hammered iron, and enamel dishware from Central Europe almost "exterminated" the local painted and glazed pottery.29

Pre-Colonial Moroccan Guilds Guilds in Morocco organised into associations of individuals who practiced a common line of work. Craft industries survived in their old organisation and form until the establishment of the Protectorate. The guilds addressed the needs of their members, instilling in them a sense of self-reliance. People trusted and viewed them as quasi-protective institutions. Delmas-Fort indicated that, as late as the 1950s, a few years prior to Moroccan independence, small shops subsisted in Fez where craftsmen prepared dyes based on age old procedures.30 Guilds offered the security of a clearly defined social structure and produced social harmony. Berque asserted that the urban balance, in an imperial city such as Fez, relied on the three institutions of trade, the university, and the guilds. Of the three, the guilds carried the most weight for, as late as the 1930s, they incorporated, in Fez alone, 15,000 families, or two thirds of the city's families.31 Two categories of guilds existed in Morocco. The first included shopkeepers. The second involved master craftsmen, their employees, and apprentices. Many craftsmen worked in funduqs (buildings reserved for industrial and commercial functions), while others worked in shops. In spite of their claim to authenticity and seriousness, the French scholars could not untangle the origin of the guilds from mystery and myth.

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Delmas-Fort, for example, affirmed that the origin of the Fez tanners’ guild reached as far back as the dawn of the city itself. He claimed that as late as 1950 a craft workshop still existed where one could visit the trough in which Moulay Idriss, the founder of the city in the first years of the ninth century, watered his mule. However, he also estimated that Marinid craftsmen in the fourteenth century established the first real guilds.32 Division of labour and geographical localisation within the medinas, not competition between craftsmen from different religious groups, characterised the guilds. Moroccan Jewish and Muslim artisans practicing the same crafts avoided unnecessary conflict. In Fez, for example, Jews specialised in manufacturing tinware and lanterns, and exercised their crafts in the Mellah (Jewish quarter) and nearby Fez Jdid. Muslims worked in the medina. Apart from this spatial configuration, Jewish craftsmen resembled their Muslim counterparts, and their guilds imitated the structure and laws as those managed by the Muslims.33 Theoretically, joining a guild cost nothing. The absence of extensive enterprises saved employers and workers alike from becoming bare numbers in such tightly regulated institutions. The community at large knew craft shop owners and their assistants by names; pre-Protectorate imperial cities of Fez, Marrakesh, Rabat and Meknes still had the characteristics of villages and, according to Roger Le Tourneau, "labour has not yet become an anonymous endeavour" as it had in the West.34 To participate in Moroccan urban life, one needed to belong to a group. An individual was anonymous, while the group, like a family, was a "sacred fraternity"; a group carried more weight, for its unity endowed it with the power to "act" and to "attract."35 Jacques Berque compared the guilds to Moroccan houses, which essentially had no windows onto the exterior, and had no contact with their neighbours, though they touched. Similarly, there existed little communication between different guilds, and there existed no connection between different phases of craft production, between production and sale, or between investment, labour, and the flow of goods.36 Speculation, not any rules of brokerage, guided the economy. For example, throughout the different stages of an exchange involving various parties in leather related crafts--the provider of raw animal skins, the tanner, the shoemaker, and the potential consumer--auction sales represented the only link between them all. This characteristic, however, did not imply inadequate good business management. What linked these different parties together was the presence at every step of negotiation of "a jealous egalitarianism" and "a wild liberalism" that was unknown to Westerners living during the same period.37 To build a house in Fez as in any other medina, Berque noted that, twenty years after the establishment of the Protectorate, a Moroccan had

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to conclude more than a dozen separate deals with those involved in building his house, including "foundation diggers, masons, brick makers, manufacturers of lime for whitewash, sand sellers, stone vendors, joist sculptors, roofers, terrace builders, iron workers, carpenters, painters on wood, mosaicists, plaster sculptors, in addition to window and glass makers, and electricians."38 Berque, however, misread this as imprecise political organisation the guilds suffered from.39 Such misreading of the guilds' structure encouraged the French to promote their reforms, overlooking the fact that guilds created among Moroccans a wide range of networking, in which everyone seemed to know everyone else. A person could not live in a medina without others knowing to which family that person belonged to. There existed among the guilds’ adherents and their clients "psychological and moral ties, a certain collective consciousness, and a frensied sense of independence from public powers, as well as a certain fidelity towards the principles of honour."40 Moroccans called this Qa`ida (local tradition). Later, French reforms, as we shall see in the following chapter, aimed at infiltrating these social bodies in an attempt to appropriate their role in harnessing Moroccan social forces. Moroccans, on the other hand, would oppose these reforms under the pretext that they would strip the guilds of their tradition, which they considered as a decisive ingredient of public harmony. Moreover, each guild affiliated itself with a Muslim patron saint, its protector, and held an annual feast or two in his name.41 Though it might seem from the outside as strong and authoritarian, the principal role of a guild consisted of minimal regulation, of offering gifts to the state high officials to buy greater autonomy, of distributing commissions among its members, and of giving them a helping hand in times of crisis. French scholars misconstrued the strong sense of independence the guilds enjoyed as anarchy.

Master Craftsmen, Apprentices, Craft Learning, and Surveillance A master craftsman assumed the responsibilities of an entire enterprise. He rented the workshop, paid his employees, and sold wares. When he did not practice the craft his workshop specialised in, due to old age or physical frailty, he distributed roles and duties among his workers, and negotiated the acquisition of supplies and the sale of products. After paying his employees and his taxes, he took home not much more than the salary of one of them. Once a year, master craftsmen and workers

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gathered and celebrated the production of their shops. Employees retired rarely. Those who exercised a difficult labour such as tanning, attempted, when advanced in age, to find an easier job, or opened a shop with a partner.42 Prayer times determined the rhythm of work. A day of labour ran from the first prayer at sunrise until the third prayer in mid afternoon. Yet custom did not inscribe this system in any fixed schedule. Craftsmen stopped work during the midday prayer, though most of them brought their lunches with them, and their break did not last more than the time it took them to eat their food. A day of work, in general, did not last more than six hours. Religion, on the other hand, intervened and craftsmen did not work Thursday afternoon and Friday morning in preparation for the Friday prayer, a communal ritual in which most Muslims participated. Generally, a master craftsman ended his day after the third prayer so that he could sell the day's product and buy materials he needed for the following day. Merchants, however, closed their shops and returned home for lunch and for their daily naps. A master craftsman practiced his craft alongside his assistants and apprentices. This mode of production encouraged compatibility of habits, and bolstered socialisation and group solidarity. Workers knew a great deal about their employer's family life. Few people had secrets.43 The concept of apprenticeship also reflected the looseness of the guilds’ internal organisation. If need be, each master craftsman hired from two to three employees. Fathers brought their children to workshops to learn a craft in exchange for little or no stipend. Most often the master craftsman initiated them into the craft by having them watch him and his assistants work. Periodically he gave the young apprentices a small sum of money as a reward, not as a payment. The workshop structure lacked what Michel Foucault called "the binary exercises of rivalry."44 Pupils renounced the exuberance of their age, responded and executed the demands of their master "in silence as if they were answering the call of a sick person."45 The workshop resembled a single table under his watchful eye. He decided the tasks they performed based on the level of their skills. Only after years of attendance did they become salaried workers. Workers occupied different ranks in the workshop structure depending on their contributions to production. The master paid them either daily or at the end of a project, extending over a period of eight to fifteen days, or in a maximum of one month. In addition to money, they received payments in kind. Soon after the instalment of the Protectorate, in the Rabat tannery, for example, of sixty animal skins they prepared, a master craftsman gave six to the worker of the first class, four to the second, and three to the third.46 Most often master craftsmen recruited their relatives to keep mem-

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bership and trade blood-related. To restrict the saturation of a craft, those who wished to become part of a guild had to know other members before joining. They, additionally, presented and displayed their know-how to the amin (the head of the guild) who then placed or dismissed them. Although learning a craft did not culminate in examinations, the closeness of the environment guaranteed when a craftsman would have qualified to open his own shop. Only after years of training could the apprentice, by now, a classified and salaried worker, become a full-fledged and valuable assistant to the master. When he had enough capital he opened a workshop. Only then did his peers call him a ma`alam, or master craftsman, a title which simply reflected a matter-of-factness of his mastery of his craft, and which simply earned him the respect of fellow guild members as well as the inhabitants of the neighbourhood.47 The amin and his two khalifas (deputies) administrated the guild. The three occupied their offices for life. Members of the guild nominated the amin, the muhtasib (market inspector) had to approve his election as did two Makhzen representatives, the Pasha and the Qaid (respectively the governor and the city chief ) who then proposed his nomination to the Makhzen. Neither of the khalifas succeeded the amin after his death. Two individuals monitored the guilds. The Pasha, as the commander of the troops, maintained civil order, supervised the police, and became a secular judge when the guilds needed his intervention. Second, the muhtasib controlled the economic life of the market and acted as a judge in commercial disputes. Both communicated to the amin new taxes decided by the Makhzen. The amin played an intermediary role between the guild and the state; he strove to make the rights of his guild respected. For Jacques Berque the amin represented "a little leader." For Brown he constituted a chief.48 The point here is not as simple or as forthright as it appears. The amin epitomised the organisational centre of the guild, but was not its leader. He could neither alter its core structure nor intervene in its economic or technical matters. The amin, nevertheless, took charge of all that related to the external relations the guild had with society as well as internal performance. He received complaints from master craftsmen, workers, and apprentices. He investigated disputes, conciliated different factions within the guild, and had the power to oversee the formation of apprentices and terminate craftsmen whose knowledge of the profession he deemed insufficient. And, as an agent of social relief, he mobilised craftsmen to come to the aid of their colleagues in need. On occasions, the craftsmen gathered in his home to discuss urgent matters. This council included the economic elite of the medina but had imprecise political attributes. An experienced man, the amin knew his profession well, enjoyed the trust of the whole group, and guaranteed the interests of the guild. Within the Moroccan

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pre-Protectorate context, he had substantial power. The Qa`ida (tradition and the respect of social codes) endowed him with the right to take initiatives but, at the same time, obliged him to seek the opinion of the council in urgent matters. Similar to the Muqaddam (the neighborhood chief ), the amin mediated differences that arose among guild members. When his conciliatory efforts failed, he sought the help of the muhtasib, under whose control he functioned. The muhtasib lived near the market and had an office in the market square from where he supervised commercial activities. Unlike the amin, he had direct influence over the guilds and the economic life of the medina. He policed the market and investigated fraud. He limited the liberalism the guilds enjoyed, but did not direct it.49 The Makhzen, through its agent, the muhtasib, intervened in the life of the market by setting prices according to the quality and quantity of goods and produce for sale each day. The Makhzen entrusted explicit authority to officials who belonged to and lived in the medina: the governor, the judge, the administrator of the Habous (pious endowments), the officers of customs, and the muhtasib. Each had direct links with the Makhzen, and concerned himself, primarily with supporting the groups he represented and, together with other officials, helped maintain social equilibrium. The muhtasib, nevertheless, exerted social authority, which made him embody what Berque defined as an "almost divine"50 control over the life of the guilds and their constituents. The muhtasib served as a moral police officer as well. He held those whom he controlled accountable to their collective moral commitments. His power rested not on economic expertise alone, but on ethical precepts; not on legislative sanction, but on his social status as the guardian of tradition, custom, and religious law. That is, his might did not literally derive from the heavens, as Berque would have wanted us to believe, but rather the muhtasib behaved as an omnipresent eye and ear. He displayed supremacy by his high ethical standing in the community by directly involving himself in the life of the market. As mentioned earlier, when the French founded the Protectorate, the medinas shared similar attributes with villages. City life revolved around communal structures, and inhabitants knew each other, or at least knew those in their immediate neighbourhoods. The muhtasib reinforced this sense of cohesiveness and the tenets of collective responsibility. In addition to the authority discussed above, he had symbolic power, one that struck in the hearts of the medina's inhabitants the fear of being mocked in public for dishonesty. French scholars, however, refused to see the muhtasib as a force of stability, as "a mind that strove to foresee and to guide." Le Tourneau, for example, discredited him as "a force of conservation, of inertia, which bolted to the ground the scaffolding of the

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[Moroccan] economy...and kept it from swaying and crumbling."51 In reality, the muhtasib also monopolised the common and penal codes of law. Assisted by his deputies, an amin from each guild--all of whom in their own right knew the intricacies of economic life—he presided over a small tribunal where common sense and tradition ruled. The muhtasib, above all, knew all the tricks of the trade. A.R. De Lens, an administrator at the Marrakesh Municipality, relished telling an anecdote depicting the muhtasib as a wise man who aimed at seeing that justice prevailed. When a client complained to him that, in order to increase the weight of butter, a young merchant had it mixed with oil, the muhtasib, in "a knowledgeable gesture recalling that of a laboratory technician," heated the mixture and let it cool again, thus separating the two components.52 The muhtasib performed other tasks beyond combating fraud. He ordered corporal punishment, such as falaqa (beating guilty parties on the soles of their feet with a stick). He enforced the cleanliness of funduqs, coffee shops, and hammams (public baths). In the hammams he perpetuated the codes against bodily display and for moral decency. He became the guardian of strict social codes created by general religious teachings. He had the right to tear off the clothes of a man if he thought they contained more silk than he deemed appropriate, and he could reprimand craftsmen if they wore clothes of the shurfa (descendants of the Prophet) or prayed in the mosques on carpets the community had reserved for erudite men of letters.53 Implicitly, the manner in which the muhtasib displayed his power encouraged the inhabitants in the medina to conceive of him as a traditional and humanitarian authority. In his daily practices, he placed great emphasis on the idea that tradition required discipline, abnegation, as well as coercion. A person could not spontaneously choose to follow his own desires when dealing with other men or animals. Once he accepted the general social codes he became personally better off both as an individual and as a citizen. As an individual he would thrive, because his mind stood at peace with the teaching of his religion. As a citizen he had no fear of being ridiculed in front of other men. The muhtasib also defended children as well as animals. He punished the parents of vagabond children who roamed the streets of the medina, and arrested beggars who simulated blindness. De Lens reported that Abdallah Souret, the muhtasib of the Marrakesh medina, saw a donkey standing in the street with a heavy burden on its back, while his master ate his lunch. To punish the owner for this inhuman act, Souret ordered him to bend over his hands and knees and carry the same burden for as long as it took the animal to eat his meal. Everyone in the medina had to obey the orders of the muhtasib, who had the power to overrule a qadi’s (judge’s) sentencing. The French did

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not fail to understand the full weight of his authority. To diminish the import of German goods, which competed with French merchandise in the early years of the Protectorate, French officials asked muhtasibs throughout the country to forbid merchants from dealing in them.54 The muhtasib, like the Moroccan cited by Berque, who concluded several arrangements with different parties in order to build his house, drew his authority from general religious precepts and from common principles of the Qa`ida, relating to good conduct. An individual strove to discipline himself constantly as did his kin, since in matters of social exchange the community, not he, defined his wants and desires. Through moral discipline, the muhtasib imposed that tradition and perpetuated social order. Instead of following their natural yearning, Moroccans controlled their behaviour by subordinating themselves to the will of the muhtasib who himself yielded his authority to tradition and social codes. As we shall see in the following chapter, the French reforms strove to appropriate the muhtasib's power in order to control the guilds, the backbone of local industries, from within and mobilise Moroccan society.

"High" and "Low" Crafts Moroccans achieved their social rank either by the amount of their wealth, by the nature of the craft they practiced or dealt in or by their religious learning. Many of them, nevertheless, managed to bring the three together. The French scholars established the general assumption that Moroccan urbanites exercised "noble" crafts and that the community considered those involved in them as its pillars. Such a life style demanded relative affluence. The craft a person handled went hand in hand with his social status, which often depended on the amount of wealth he amassed. When a man lost his fortune, he also lost his social standing and, simultaneously, the aura of his profession diminished in the eyes of his fellow citizens. At the same time, he could enjoy a higher esteem by accumulating wealth. By the same token, when a group of craftsmen prospered and its members became rich, the social and monetary value of their craft spiralled.55 Nevertheless, the community also held in special stratum poor people who demonstrated their social integrity and sophisticated grasps of religious teachings. We have seen above that Moroccan crafts and craftsmen submitted to inquiries by French scholars from historical, social, judicial, and gender perspectives. The scholars, in defining the crafts and the craftsmen, nevertheless, faced a dilemma which consisted, as Berque pointed out, of a linguistic ambiguity.56 They maintained vague distinctions between artisanat and art, and reduced all crafts to "high," "low," or handicrafts which some Moroccans judged as "revolting".57 For Le Tourneau, an

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"artist" had to astonish with his hand dexterity and had the gift to express refinement and captivate with elegance. Moroccans generally agreed that craftsmen involved in building construction professions, including mosaicists, wood and plaster sculptors, and ceilings and door decorators deserved the title of a ma'alam. However, whereas Berque's position regarding the craftsmen remained ambiguous, Le Tourneau considered Moroccan craftsmen as too attached to old models, where art was "the éclat de la création." Not unlike Terrasse, Le Tourneau believed that art embodied this burst of creation, an act of "imagination," and "inventiveness." In his view Moroccan craftsmen, above all, resembled Western artists because they generated complex, yet discreet, decorations, and because they had the skill to teach.58 He praised their truthfulness and their ability to produce "delicate old things" and stamp homes in the medinas with charm and beauty.59 Yet, what truly distinguished the craftsmen for Le Tourneau was their physical appearance for, unlike bourgeois individuals, they had slender and supple bodies. And, because they worked in dark and humid workshops and spent hours bent over their labour, they ended up with stiff and arched backs.60 Berque, however, expressed more interest in defining the craftsmen not based on their artistic merits but on the social role they could play as agents of either stability or subversion. That is, he saw in them social subjects whom the French authorities had to take into full consideration. In offering this implicit advice, Berque borrowed a Moroccan proverb, which defined a craftsman either as a mendil (a dish towel), or as a qendil (a lantern). In other words he could, depending on the political circumstances, behave either as a humble servant or a raging fire.61 French scholars defined "noble" professions on the basis of two foundational precepts that linked the profession and blood lineage. In Fez, for example, until the establishment of the Protectorate, weavers, tanners, shoemakers, dyers and most of their employees constituted what Le Tourneau called the "aristocracie artisanale." This aristocracy produced auspicious crafts, lived or came from Fez, enjoyed "Fassi citizenship," and represented the elite of Moroccan society.62 Similarly, in Salé, traditional shoemakers belonged to well-established families.63 A master craftsman derived his social rank mainly from the income and wealth he made from his craft. Masons, carpenters, mosaicists, and decorators, including sculptors and painters on plaster and wood, "created beauty and comfort,"64 and ranked not far behind in this categorisation.65 They specialised in building construction and interior decoration and did not suffer from too much competition or unemployment. The Makhzen hired them to build palaces and public buildings, and the Protectorate Administration employed them to erect the villes nouvelles for the French and European colonists and settlers and the new medinas for the growing

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Moroccan population. Families long known and respected in the medinas practiced highly valued occupations. The community respected these craftsmen for their "intelligence" and their "dexterity," and Le Tourneau highly encouraged French officials to befriend them, because they had good insight into the moods and customs of the medinas and their inhabitants. The second category included "moderate crafts" and involved belt makers, tinsmiths, and potters, all of whom did not necessarily belong to the medinas' aristocracy. At the bottom of the social ladder existed a category of "revolting professions" performed by outsiders, where the line between a craftsman and a wage earner became imperceptible. This group comprised workers in oil mills, slipper makers, and bakers. Good incomes, nevertheless, did not always equate high rank when it concerned a trade thought to have an intrinsic negative quality.66 M. Bourgeois placed a number of crafts from different categories at the top of the list, a class which he labelled "luxurious crafts, and which involved carpet weaving, embroidery, the making of gold thread, and brass smithing."67 In spite of the attempts made the French scholars at categorising Moroccan crafts following Western concepts, Le Tourneau, in addition, warned them that in Morocco the relationship between crafts and social status based on blood lineage often blurred. Cases always existed when a potter barely managed to stay above poverty level, while a baker became well off.68 The model proposed by Le Tourneau seems inadequate, though. Brown, in his study of the people of the city of Salé, explained how in the Moroccan context other components made certain crafts respected, regardless of the identity or the income of their practitioners. Shoemaking, carpentry, and crafts related to architecture rose as "noble," because traditionally Moroccans regarded them as noble, and not because of the family ties and the wealth of their practitioners. When a craftsman increased his income, he also amplified his social rank, and his trade became nobler. In Salé, Brown demonstrated that when a "noble" craft fared badly, its "respectability" survived for at least one generation. Hence, dignity of a craft was not intrinsic. "Thus in the 1860s weavers [in Salé] were well off and respected; a generation later they had poverty with dignity; by the end of the century their lot was indigence and disdain."69 French colonial definitions of Moroccan crafts do not constitute a homogenous body of texts. However, we should note that, by emphasising the fact that they had an inconsistent character, French scholars couched their writing in the policy the French authorities sought to implement. They translated colonial ideology into scholarly texts. As we shall see in the following chapter, they made Moroccan crafts fit the colonial agenda, and the manner in which they constructed their arguments justified the intervention of the French authorities in the field of Moroccan craft industries.

CHAPTER TWO: DIFFUSING COLONIAL ORDER

Various French scholars produced texts in what some of them labelled a "learned manner" about Moroccan crafts, guilds, and society. In so doing they proposed a panoply of judgements. In reality, these scholars helped pave the way for a systematic and "peaceful" colonisation of Morocco. Their works provided the theoretical framework on which the French authorities based their guidelines for infiltrating the guilds and the "native sector." Reforms promoted by the scholars helped frame and anchor the content of the colonial ideology, aiming primarily at "setting [French] political control of the medina[s] on an objective foundation."1 French officials established this domination through a series of measures, including the methodical gathering of information about crafts, which they also displayed in local and International Fairs and exported to foreign markets. The policies did not so much dismiss these crafts, but represented them as superseded and in need of reforms. This colonial program, I will argue in this chapter, sought to enhance and legitimise the Protectorate as a valid system of governance in the eyes of both the Moroccans and French. The French, nevertheless, did not usher in reforms freely, nor did they alone monopolise the decision making process. Despite the general agreement among a number of French historians of Morocco of differing ideological tendencies, from Roger Le Tourneau, Charles-André Julien, to Daniel Rivet that the French dominated Protectorate policies, there always existed resistance, even if only rhetorical, from Moroccan and French quarters. Reforms of the Moroccan craft industries proposed by the French provoked opposition and disagreement from both Makhzen officials and French administrators, thus initiating a twofold debate. This chapter aims, therefore, at underscoring the discursive nature of colonialism as it unfolded in the Protectorate.

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The Protectorate's Initial Attempt at Reforming the Moroccan Guilds Both the Makhzen and the French authorities participated in moulding reforms. To take control of the guilds, the French purposefully introduced techniques and methods whose subtleties most Moroccans did not understand. The reforms of the Rabat tanner's guild, beginning in 1916, stand as a case in point. Its transformation changed the consumption patterns of the final products. As we have seen, Moroccans considered the shoe industry as a noble craft. In Rabat this industry had supplied most of the traditional footwear to internal and North African markets. While shoes manufactured in Marrakesh and Fez survived after the establishment of the Protectorate in 1912 and continued being exported to African and Middle Eastern countries, including Senegal, Egypt, and the Arabian Peninsula, those manufactured in Rabat only addressed the needs of this city and Salé, on the other bank of the Bou Regreg River, and their immediate regions.2 Beginning in the nineteenth century, French merchants introduced European manufactured goods in Morocco. When World War I broke out, the Moroccan shoe industry could not withstand the competition of mass-produced European shoes, which saturated local markets. The large number of Moroccans recruited in the Protectorate army as Soldat du Tabor and for the Garde Noire began wearing Western style footwear. In Rabat numerous apprentices left guild-associated workshops for lack of work, and sought employment on building construction sites in the new rising ville nouvelle, or as porters, auction criers, or ferry makers for rowboats on the Bou Regreg River. Given these circumstances, the Protectorate Administration led an investigation into ways of protecting tanneries and shoe making. On March 13, 1916 a committee composed of the Chief of the Rabat Bureau of Economic Studies, Capitaine Mageard from the Bureau of Regional Information, the Municipality Chief of Rabat-Salé, and an Agent from the Moroccan Charifian General Secretariat3 began a field study of the tanner's guild with the help of its amin, Haj Maati Djouri. The guild, situated in the Okasha neighbourhood near the Grand Mosque, involved 300 individuals--100 master craftsmen, 150 workers, and 50 apprentices, as well as an indefinite number of porters. Their numbers had fallen from 500 before the Protectorate. In a letter dated October 8, 1917, amin Djouri and twenty-eight craftsmen explained to the Adviser of the Moroccan Charifian Government that the tanners had no other means of sustaining their

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families except by their trade. Other professions besides shoemaking used large amount of leather from the Rabat-Salé region. A Protectorate prohibition against importing raw leather into Morocco from the international zone of Tangier and from the large urban centres in the Spanish zone, including Tetouan and Larache, and from Spain, deprived their workshops of this crude material, subsequently depleting their reserves.4 Increased export abroad of untreated Moroccan animal skins had made it even more difficult for them to get their hand on this material.5 Moreover, shoemakers in Rabat generally employed high quality leather known as `atabi, and only twenty-five of them used other low grade leather.6 Before the Protectorate, wool put for sale on the Rabat market originated from the sheep fleece sold by regional farmers. Other wool came from sheepskins tanners bought from the slaughter house as raw material, and which they later separated and sold at the wool market in the Rabat medina, where a taleb (a student of religious science) known for his integrity, good behaviour, and trustworthiness, weighed the wool in exchange for a small wage for each 100 kilograms. Tanners paid taxes to the Makhzen, and paid the `adel (the public notary) an additional sum for observing and controlling the weighing process. The Municipality Services wanted higher fees which they deemed minimum with the exception during the spring, between the months of March and May, when wool flooded the Rabat market. The tanners, on the other hand, paid a 10 % tax on the value of the skin they bought and deduced that this tax had already covered the wool they would later separate and sell.7 They, therefore, opposed any additional levy. Headed by French officials the Municipality ignored their argument and, in a rigged report on the tannery, alleged that their amin occasionally found ways for not paying fees. In an attempt to control the tannery and, therefore, the guild, the Municipality imposed wool tax reforms which the Pasha and the muhtasib (the city governor and the market inspector) accepted. M. Berge, the Municipality Chief, suggested the appointment of two Municipal officials, a controller and a tax collector, who whould carry out these new reforms in order to collect these dues promptly and issue receipts.8 The Municipality, additionally, moved the wool market to an area adjacent to the Mellah (the Jewish quarter), overlooking the point where the Bou Regreg River met the Atlantic Ocean, thus breaking the direct contact the tanners had with the medina. This relocation weakened the intervention of the older master craftsmen who knew market affairs well. The French authorities deemed these new trade regulations, based on the European system, as necessary for reforming guilds throughout

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Morocco. A dahir (law) of April 8, 1917 officialised their implementation. By such means, control of the craft industries passed slowly from Moroccan hands to the centralised control of French administrators. The 1917 dahir granted more leverage to the Municipality in organising the internal laws of the guild. This law defined the role and attributions of the Pasha, the Municipality Chief, and the Municipal Commission without mentioning the amin or his role. Under this new regulation, the muhtasib, who formerly monitored the market and had great powers, became a simple petty official who answered to the Municipality Chief. The muhtasib saw his sole duty limited to transmitting to the master craftsmen instructions issued by the Municipality. When World War I ended, the Municipality Chief took charge of all economic affairs of the "native sector," propelling the muhtasib completely to the margin, for he now lent his support to the Chief in deciding which commodities craftsmen and consumers would sell and buy. He no longer fought fraud, formerly one of his important attributions. He had lost the authority and prestige he once held for, under these reforms, the Chief had to approve all of his initiatives. The muhtasib, thus, became a mere subordinate administrator who obeyed the rules issued by the Municipality. The guilds, nevertheless, preserved their role as social institutions in the medinas beyond the 1917 reforms, thanks to the support granted to them by the Moroccan population. Armed with the tenets of their old qa`ida (tradition), they continued to preserve the sense of community among the inhabitants of the medinas. Only three days after a fire in 1918 destroyed the entire Fez market district, the amins of the guilds mobilised between 500 and 600 merchants and craftsmen and succeeded in rebuilding the ravaged shops, without filing any claims.9 After the French authorities witnessed the social weight these guilds still had, they decided that they needed to seek the advice of the Makhzen before setting forth future reforms. When in the same year a crowd of merchants marched on the seat of the Moroccan Government to present their grievances against the market reforms, the French authorities changed a passage in the 1917 dahir, allowing the election of the amin by the craftsmen in a general ballot vote. In future incidents the amin would present complaints to the Makhzen. The French also amended an additional paragraph stating that the Municipality needed to consult the guilds’ representatives before undertaking decisions relating to Moroccan trade affairs in the medinas.10 The French learned the hard way that they could not impose reforms without taking local traditions into consideration.

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George Hardy's Gentle Way of Control The guilds, as powerful social institutions, mobilised, protected, and regulated both craftsmen and merchants. Although they go back very far, their structure and goals, as they stood in the early 1920s, had formed as a result of the Makhzen's politics of laissez-faire. Under the Protectorate, colonial learned societies produced knowledge about Moroccans, which the French military and administration appropriated in order to better harness and watch over Moroccans and their economy. The politics the Makhzen adopted towards the guild, on the other hand, did not reflect either ignorance or the inability to control, as the French scholars had thought but, rather, a desire to keep them separated from the political arena. In September 1920, on Lyautey's recommendation, Georges Hardy, General Director of Public Education, wrote the draft of a new dahir to reform the guilds which provoked rhetorical political reaction in French and Moroccan quarters. Hardy, a very conservative Third Republic colonial official, drafted what became known as the September dahir, which the Makhzen condemned as a liberal reform based on French practices. Its first blueprint comprised twelve articles and, at its core, endowed the guilds with a civilian legal status, a fact that upset the Makhzen because it believed that such a status would give the guilds political power which they should not have. Hardy's draft had two aims and illustrated his reliance on texts produced by French scholars. Reforming the guilds' infrastructures, he argued, would strengthen the medinas' economy and, subsequently, increase purchasing power among Moroccans to buy French products. How did the September draft emphasise the guild's civilian status? A guild, in addition to acquiring all raw materials and concluding commercial transactions, represented its member merchants or craftsmen before Muslim and French judicial courts (art.1).11 The amin would have to record all commercial transactions undertaken by the guild, and the muhtasib would have to sign them. The latter would select qualified secretaries and translators to assist the amin who wrote contracts of commercial correspondences. The amin would preserve all trade documents signed by the guild and, after his retirement or dismissal he would transfer all these registers to his successor (art.7). The draft also prohibited the amin and any other guild member from keeping any sum of money belonging to the guild’s treasury. The amin and the muhtasib both would have to sign checks for all transactions (art.8), and the guild could only represent groups, not individual craftsmen before the law (art.2). Also drawing inspiration from scholarly texts, Hardy defined a master craftsman as a self- employed member of a guild. He purchased raw

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material, sold the final product of his trade, and employed and paid workers and apprentices. Hardy's plan, however, preserved the colonial and Moroccan status quo of racial segregation. It excluded French and foreign craftsmen from Muslim guilds and Jewish craftsmen had to belong to separate craft organisations (art.3). French courts, nevertheless, had enough competence to hear and settle disputes involving foreign and Muslim guilds (art.12). The muhtasib appointed the amin and council members after their constituents nominated them. A council, its amin, and four notable members would represent a guild (art.4). The muhtassib had to display, on the walls of his office, the names of the amins, those of the council, and those of the members of the guilds. In doing so, he would convert the guilds' old structures into a more transparent system (art.9). Unlike the 1917 dahir, which relegated the role of the muhtasib to that of a minor official who obeyed the Municipality rules, Hardy's proposed law conferred on him seemingly much greater power in that he could terminate the service of both the council and the amin. The guilds, however, could challenge his decisions. The muhtasib could replace a dismissed or deceased council member and the amin until a general election took place (art.5). The muhtasib, who once ruled nearly undisputed over the whole of local economic life (see the previous chapter), would also be held accountable by the French Crafts Inspectors and the Municipality Chief (art.11). At the head of this pyramidal bureaucratic structure, the Chief would reign master, as he alone would check, approve, or deny all decisions concerning articles 5, 8, and 9 (art.10). Opposition to Hardy's draft originated first from within the French Administration. In a letter to Lyautey, Lieutenant Colonel Huot, Director of Native Affairs, reacted against the September blueprint, arguing that to endow the guilds with a civilian legal status, would create in every craft centre politicised professional trade unions, which would escape Municipal control. He accused Hardy of colouring his plan with a "liberalism for which our natives are not prepared enough." The draft, he justified, bestowed upon Moroccan guilds a power, which they had never experienced, nor had they thought of seeking, and "would give them the possibility to oppose and, therefore, overthrow the decisions of the [Protectorate] authority."12 Huot emphasised that correspondence of recent years between the Rabat and Salé guilds and the Moroccan Palace indicated, clearly enough, that guilds needed to be consulted in trade matters only. Huot wished to retain not only the traditional makeup of the guilds, but also the traditional ties they had with Moroccan society, the government, and their own constituents. What interested Huot most was that, by virtue of the "Moroccan love for tradition," the April 8, 1917 dahir not only perpetuated "an old tradition" in the order of the guilds but also introduced a "new vitality."13

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Huot strove to shelter the muhtasib’s old role unchanged, especially because he could "preserve customary traditions and keep at bay all excessive liberalism."14 Article 15 of the 1917 dahir defined the muhtasib as an elected member of the Municipal Commission, which meant that he would become a go-between the guilds and the French authorities or, in other words, a necessary source of information. For Huot, the reforms listed in this dahir had enough legal power to mobilise the muhtasib, the guilds’ most important asset, to the French cause. On an operational level, he contended that the dahir should remain unmodified for in it the muhtasib would act as an agent through whom the Municipal Commission could control the guilds, the trades, and the economy of the medinas. Other French high officials rallied to Huot's argument for its "practical" reasoning. When asked by Lyautey his opinion regarding Hardy’s 1920 reform plan, M. de Avonde, head of the Trade and Industry Bureau, pondered the fact that the guilds should not oppose the French economic agenda in Morocco, but fulfil them. First, in order to educate craftsmen in the French system of production, the guilds needed clear structures and should have at their head an experienced and an intelligent amin whom only the Municipal Commission should nominate. De Avonde rationalised that the French could disseminate their "political economic" system into the guilds,15 while keeping intact the 1917 dahir, a law which essentially monitored the role of the Moroccan authorities while guaranteeing the guilds their symbolic attributions. De Avonde's argument illustrated Lyautey's "native politics." The French conquest of Morocco did not necessarily mean the destruction of the old "native system." Rather, the French could achieve domination and introduce "a new order of ideas,"16 which could coexist side by side with the pre-existing traditional structures. In the medinas the French authorities should not disturb Moroccans, whom de Avonde labelled "traditionalist by nature."17 Some of their old institutions, such as guilds, might prove useful in time of crises, as the 1918 fire clearly had demonstrated.18 De Avonde’s new order of ideas, like Huot's, targeted mostly the muhtasib, the symbolic head of the guilds. We have seen in the previous chapter that, in pre-Protectorate Morocco, the muhtasib functioned as more than a simple market inspector or a president of the craftsmen and merchants. He had constant contact and strong connections with Moroccan society as well as a deep knowledge of its intricacies. De Avonde suggested that, without reforming the 1917 law, the Municipal Council should invite and consult the muhtasib during its periodic administrative meetings, which examined different affairs and aspects of the Moroccan public services, and which the French administrators strove

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to harness. In addition to controlling the flow of goods, fighting fraud, and keeping the market in line, the muhtasib would fulfil the role of a Moroccan collaborator. Huot and De Avonde's suggestions would actually have weakened the muhtasib and rejuvenate the powers of the Municipality Chief, who kept a tight grip on both theoretical initiatives and practical executions.19 Restructured thus from within through "the good offices" of the muhtasib and the amin, the guilds would allow the French authorities easy access into the medina’s economy. As explained by de Avonde, "the Chief of the Economic Bureau would summon the amin, show him samples [to be imported from France]... and ask him to conduct the necessary propaganda among the members of his guilds"20 so that commerce would increase. The amin, likewise, would explain the taste of the Moroccan clientele to the Economic Bureau to help it decide on the products needed for importation, as well as determine the buying capacity of the guilds, and supervise trade deals and commissions between the guilds and their suppliers in France.21

The Grand Vizier and the Moroccan Cultural Vitality Lyautey centralised the Protectorate Administration in the hands of a conscientious group of the French elite. Daniel Rivet contends that the modern techno-scientific and highly specialised and hierarchised army of French technicians and administrators permeated Moroccan society and overwhelmed its traditional officials with what he called a "foreign logic." Moroccans began, as a result, to lose the bridles of their institutions and found themselves transformed into mere spectators.22 As regards the reforms, the Makhzen's position voiced by the Grand Vizier Mohamed al-Moqri tells a different story. Aware of the French political agenda, the Makhzen feared to see the Sultan and his administration meet the same fate as the Algerian government, i.e., disappear. However, this did not keep Moroccans from participating in a rigorous debate that shaped colonial ideology. Al-Moqri expressed serious reservations regarding Hardy's draft, and presented his views polemically. His response underlined the Makhzen's political objectives and an awareness of its limitations. At the same time, he gave a comprehensive definition of the significant and functional practices of guilds in Moroccan society. He began by specifying that they placed particular constraints on the behaviour of their members. He agreed with the French scholars' claims that, "essentially a traditionalist by nature," a Moroccan "adhere[d] to his traditions and embrace[d

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French] innovations only after it had been proven to him ten times that they were superior to his qa`idas [traditions]."23 Moroccan culture stemmed from the socialisation of different social groups within society, and consisted of the soldering of social cohesiveness. These interpretations sharply conflicted with Hardy's plan, which couched reforms in a Western context. In obstructing Hardy’s proposal, Al-Moqri allied himself with the conservative block in the Protectorate. He did so because these reforms would transgress the local context and ran against the particularity of Moroccan ethics and social codes. More precisely, he viewed tradition as unchanging and as part of a sacred rule that integrated guild members within society. To create new and separate social ties among them, to create for them a new social structure in a new developing Protectorate, meant that the specificity of the Moroccan culture would suffer and would introduce new concepts of union organisation. He argued that Hardy’s recommendations would endow the craftsmen with a power which they never needed, "an innovation which ha[d] no link to any Moroccan tradition and ... which stood against the freedom of commerce, which the Makhzen has respected throughout the ages."24 To drive his point home, al-Moqri compared Moroccan guilds with those that existed in Europe in the middle ages, a remark which French officials judged as far fetched. As the representative of the Moroccan Makhzen, he rejected the tight regulations suggested by Hardy for, he believed, they would restrict freedom of commerce, which Moroccans held dear. They would fail because they ignored the drive for spontaneous competition the merchants had. Al Moqri's consistent concern with situating the guilds in a Moroccan context had particular political significance. His critique totally objected to the political implications of the draft, since "to grant the guilds a civilian legal status," he warned, "was to move them away from their norms and transform them into trade unions."25 Such political connotations would sharply and irreparably break with the roles guilds had performed in Moroccan society. The Makhzen had decided to keep the medinas and the countryside separate under the Protectorate and did so aware that such a condition represented a vital aspect of the political and ethnic structure of the land. In so doing, the Makhzen had based its authority on a calculated psychological order, which had proven efficient in governing the country for centuries26 and which, al-Moqri advised, neither the Makhzen nor the French authorities would want to weaken or abolish. He also reminded Hardy that guilds represented the backbone of the medinas. In Fez for, example, they lent their name to whole quarters, including Nejjarine (carpenters), Fekharrine (potters), and

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Haddadine (metal workers). Additionally, throughout Moroccan history, the ulama (religious scholars) and the merchants initiated political upheavals, but the craftsmen, not the ulama or merchants, took their concerns to the street.27 Again neither the Makhzen nor the French officials should "educate Moroccans in trade unionism."28 The absence of strict regulation and cohesion represented an intentional fact and symbolised local culture. Al-Moqri condemned Hardy's scheme as "foolish" and "politically risky,"29 but not because it would introduce a new French tradition as Huot had observed. It would "create a workers’ organisation, would train them to obey elected officials who would especially make them aware of the power they possessed and, therefore, would prepare them to stand one day against [both of] us, under the pretext of workers' rights which would soon lead to political agitation."30 He reiterated that in Morocco groups of individuals related by traditional and moral links, not by political interests, formed guilds. Craftsmen had little education, many of them did not even frequent madrassas (Koranic schools) and, despite their insufficient religious education, they belonged to sufi (mystic) brotherhoods of the Hamadsha and the `Issawa. This religious experience strengthened strict morality. Years after this debate, Le Tourneau noticed, after a long experience among Fassi craftsmen (from Fez), that they "were almost by rule all honest men," who lived by a rigorous professional principle, and never complained about the craft they practiced. The guilds eliminated members they considered dregs as well as those who failed to uphold the communal sense of honour.31 The amins, as the elected heads of the guilds, similarly, owed their power to their moral authority and not because they belonged to a trade union. Their most important role, al-Moqri liked to recall, consisted of collecting taxes for the Makhzen. All other roles which they might have fulfilled, or might have claimed to have, were "purely incidental." Members of guilds sometime acted together for their mutual benefit, and contributed money to help their colleagues afford an unexpected obligation, such as a wedding or funeral, or to assist them when they could not continue working. The guilds could have avoided street demonstrations organised by craftsmen right before 1920 if they had held to their old traditions and addressed their complaints to the Makhzen through the amins. Devoted elected amins usually could keep the crowd of workers disciplined. The Grand Vizier, nevertheless, expressed the wish that amins "should not be elected by the guilds but chosen by the Makhzen...that, it [was] wise for the government to appoint at the head of the guilds sure individuals whose good political character was guranteed."32 This designation, al-Moqri argued, would placate craftsmen and stop them from acquiring political consciousness.33

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Moroccan guilds might have seemed incoherent in Hardy's eye. A closer look, however, would have revealed to him that they submitted to regulations. They did not have a civil status, and lacked what might have resembled a corporate identity. As Brown argued for Salé they, nevertheless, enjoyed legal recognition concerning a number of obligations and privileges affecting various occupations. These latter had a Moroccan specificity, embodied in customary laws which, in turn, comprised the judicial questions affecting economic life and the religious judicial responses to them. All members of guilds knew these law issues.34 As we have seen in the previous chapter, the loose internal organisation of the guilds gave their adherents a sense of solidarity. Guilds put little emphasis on the individual as a social unit, and their members lived dispersed as individuals. Guilds eschewed the Weberian qualities of a corporation that had rigid regulations, but the spatial proximity of the craftsmen’s workshops and the merchants’ stores helped both groups acquire group solidarity. Most often the workshops and the stores lay along the main street of the market, and their owners shared their leisure time together drinking tea and playing checkers. A craftsman considered the craft he practiced as a means to make a living, and when it died out or fell out of favour, he simply changed profession, but without losing the friendship of his old companions. This socialisation contributed to what Brown called the "common mentality" of the craftsmen35 and the tradition which al-Moqri wished to see the guilds preserve. Al-Moqri's idealistic notion of tradition included the peculiar belief that society had a collective conscience, an assortment of tenets endowed with a unifying force that could bring all Moroccans together. He placed the tenets of tradition above and beyond any Moroccan individual, since they applied to the totality of beings and things. He believed that Moroccans conceived the world around them in its essential aspects, and that local tradition permeated their culture with a distinctive content that all of them understood and obeyed. He refused to see this aspect of spontaneous cohesiveness disappear, and argued that the introduction of new forms of French organisation and discipline represented an innovative restructuring that would introduce political dangers for the Makhzen's status quo. In his very early work, Berque reached the same conclusion, but with a different ideological goal in mind. He agreed that the guilds should not have imposed on them a system contradictory to their nature, and that a true lasting control meant their infiltration from the inside. Berque also argued that all true knowledge of the medinas, of their trade procedures, of their needs, and of their clientele indicated that the French had to restore the muhtasib's traditional role.36 A few remarks should be added regarding the multivocal process of decision-making and the shifting positions shared by Moroccans and

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French on the subject of these reforms. Hardy's draft also caused a reemergence of rhetorical positions by French officials who knowingly adopted a different perspective than that of his highly codified proposal. Similarly, emphasis on the uniqueness of the Moroccan guilds as the Grand Vizier debated set the agenda for renewed studies and definitions. Disengaging himself from the previous efforts to define the guilds, M. de Nazière, the French Adviser to the Moroccan Charifian Government, struck a new nerve in showing their complicated nature. He explained that guilds had a wider influence on Moroccan life than what his French colleagues extrapolated from the investigations led by the scholars. For de Nazière, there existed two types of guilds, those grouping craftsmen and those of merchants, with the latter more numerous than the former. Guilds included, in addition to craft related occupations, those of butchers, booksellers, grocers, mint and parsley merchants, as well as sellers of oil, coal, vegetables, henna, flour, candles, and so on. Guilds, therefore, covered Moroccan economic life in almost its entirety, yet without constituting a homogenous entity. Irregularity stood at the core of the law involving guilds, de Nazière explained. Retail merchants, for example, paid taxes while wholesalers, often Moroccan Jews, did not. Free trade competition did not exist in Morocco. Shopkeepers and traders generally sold the same item at the same price in different medinas, and zealously kept this qa`ida.37 They restricted freedom of trade by a traditional consensus which limited intruders.38 Hence, de Nazière rallied to the Grand Vizier's opinion that no reform should endow members of guilds with a political awareness, with which they could organise or which might enable them to become a social or a political force. Years later, Berque commented on this debate saying that the French respected the traditionalist instincts of the Moroccan craftsmen and in keeping them intact, they served the French ideology over a longer period of time.39 Only by defending this respect and by monitoring the guilds from within and only by redefining the roles of the muhtasibs and the amins, could craftsmen assimilate French directives. De Nazière suggested that the outcome of the debate pointed to the fact that the French should limit later reforms to "technicalities" that would allow guilds to conduct their primary business in quasi autonomy. The French authorities could help Moroccan traditional industries find new outlets in foreign markets by freeing retailers from the demands made upon them by wholesalers and foreign or Moroccan intermediaries.40 The French should limit civilian status to the guilds’ common operation of purchasing raw materials and of selling their products. And, like the Grand Vizier, de Nazière insisted that the Makhzen, not the members of guilds, should appoint the amins. Furthermore, the amins

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should concern themselves with minor affairs including the distribution of commissions among their constituents, and reporting all political agitation to the Municipal Chiefs. The muhtasibs and the Chiefs, in addition, should supervise and control all abuses the amins might commit. In conclusion, de Nazière followed al-Moqri’s recommendation because they both considered the craftsmen as a crucial element of social order and stability. He also encouraged the Protectorate Administration to come to their aid before they fell into the grip of trade unionists, particularly those infiltrating the Protectorate from Algeria.

Creating Authentic Replicas of Moroccan Artefacts The French proceeded to display the products of Moroccan craft industries even before introducing reforms. Anyone who studies the French reforms of these industries needs to consider this fact. My brief comments in this section will show how the French authorities viewed this particular matter as a prerequisite of successful reorganisation. Ricard, as an early initiator of colonial scholarship, rationalised this decision by taking as his starting point a hypothesis from Lyautey's "native policy." "An ethnic community [colony]" he postulated "resemble[d] a house of commerce and must have a store window garnished by native crafts. We need to do our best so that they could stop passer-bys and encourage them to enter. Inside, other agents [would] do what is necessary."41 Ricard and French administrators claimed an objective study of Moroccan industries. They articulated, nevertheless, their fear of a potential social disturbance which, they alleged, would result from the mass politisation of craftsmen. They accordingly expounded a doctrine of limited recommendations. Before the 1920 reforms, Lyautey had sought to directly open up Moroccan markets to French products and absorb Moroccan industries into that of France, while attempting to leave its infrastructure undisturbed. As a first step, he organised the 1915 Casablanca FrancoMoroccan Fair, in which he originally planned to allure French capitalists to invest in Morocco. The Fair established an initial inventory of the products Morocco imported from Europe and which the French subsequently wished to export alone to the Protectorate. Rallying to the project, the scholars initiated studies of the various resources the country had, including crafts, in order to systemise their exploitation. The Casablanca Fair displayed the products of local industries in separate pavilions, each representing a different medina and its region.

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The Rabat-Salé pavilion exhibited high quality carpets and blankets, embroideries, mats made of raw or tinted rush, and inlaid wood. Mogador (now Essaouira) participated with engraved wood and chiselled silver jewellery. Marrakesh sent carpets from the Houz and the High Atlas regions, as well as Arab and Berber jewellery, brassware, artefacts made of wood, and pottery. Meknes displayed a selection of carpets and blankets from the Middle Atlas, embroideries, and painted wood. And Fez joined in with sculpted and painted wooden furniture, engraved stuccos, embroidered silk banners and emblems with golden strips, needle embroidery and lacework, as well as glazed faience mosaics, glazed pottery, and Berber carpets. The scholars learned a great deal from the examination and comparison of these objects. It became clear to them that these ancient artefacts marked the height of a flourishing craft activity, whereas recent articles pointed to a decline in all aspects of craft production, including form, design, proportion, the choice of raw materials, and pigments. They also became aware that only a handful of craftsmen had the dexterity equal to that of their ancestors. The General Administration of Public Instruction displayed in its pavilion a collection of drawings, which its administrators had collected from grammar and vocational schools, recently established by the Protectorate Administration for the Moroccan masses. The drawings demonstrated the artistic talent of Moroccan children, and convinced the French authorities, as the following chapter will demonstrate, that these schools could easily form a new generation of accomplished artisans.42 The schools retrained craftsmen in separate adult programs, or alongside young apprentices in state sponsored workshops. There they copied old models, which Ricard and his assistants collected. To this end, the French authorities mobilised the two Inspection Offices of the Native Craft Industry established during this same year, in 1915, in Rabat and Fez. Each of them set up a Museum of Ancient Crafts and produced new artefacts.43 Prototypes from these museums served as authentic sources on which new Moroccan craft productions emerged. Ricard created, beginning in 1916 in Fez, Rabat, Meknes, and Marrakesh four museums, which housed in permanent collections newly manufactured items as "authentic replicas" of old types. The replicas later appeared in every exhibition pertaining to the craft industries both locally and abroad. The September-October 1916 Fair held in Fez exhibited the first handicrafts produced under the sponsorship of the colonial state. Similar to the previous 1915 Casablanca Fair, the authorities also displayed ancient models with harmonious forms, tight designs, and subdued colours. The results so encouraged the French authorities that they decided to mount two additional exhibitions in Meknes and

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Safi. To keep the displayed items affordable to Moroccans and to generate a cash flow to run the vocational schools, the authorities ruled that prices should remain low both in Morocco and overseas. Two additional events occurred in 1917, the Rabat Second Moroccan Fair, and the Exposition of Moroccan crafts held in the Paris Museum of Decorative Arts. Both exhibitions promoted new products, which French traders received enthusiastically. Hence, the French, taking into account the embryonic state of this new industry, created in 1918 the Office of Native Craft Industry, which supported, guided, surveilled, and diffused the modern craft products abroad. In other words, it centralised all matters concerning their productions. The French authorities judged the Moroccan performance in the Paris Exhibition a success. It motivated French and European capitalists to sponsor and partake in the management in Morocco of half a dozen workshops that specialised in the Rabat carpet style. This intervention relied on low cost local labour and produced cheaper carpets. Soon after, the European managerial plans began to compete with those on which the Office of Crafts Industry relied in running the workshops it initially created. One of the outstanding features of the 1920 reforms consisted in the creation of craft cooperatives. Beginning in that same year, French officials gathered the best of the recently retrained craftsmen into collective workshops where they began copying samples of "authentic artefacts." Ricard had chosen and assembled these with a large entourage of specialized personnel who have "learned the crafts, the language, the traditions, behaviour, and maintained close contacts with craftsmen" throughout the country.44 Ricard and his assistants conducted field studies in the medinas and rural areas, encouraging artisans to participate in the project of renovating their industries, and offering them the necessary visual documentation. The team inspected craft productions, and identified artefacts they thought amenable for commercialisation. The group included four regional inspectors and eight technical agents in the large imperial cities of Fez, Marrakesh, Rabat, and Meknes. Other specialists focused on the smaller craft centres of Casablanca, Safi, and Tangier. Correspondents and field researchers worked in the peripheral hubs of Mazagan, Mogador (now El Jadida and Essaouira), Taza, Oujda, Midelt, and Boudnib. French draughtsmen in Rabat built up inventories of drawings from the documentation gathered by Ricard, and distributed the necessary visual documentation to guilds, independent craftsmen, and vocational schools.45 Ricard and his helpers systematised the information they gathered during their expeditions and sent their findings to government administrations and private enterprises. To borrow Clifford Geertz' expression, they "inscribed" the collected data, in that they wrote down

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and transformed spoken information into written texts, which they could later "reconsult" as new needs arose.46 The resulting reports represented integrational forms of inquiry, for they disentangled diverse craft productions from the complicated social organisations of the craftsmen. Issues relating to the rapport crafts had with society, to the roles crafts played in the aesthetic lives of their manufacturers and buyers, and to the social and cultural needs crafts fulfilled, other than the economic necessities, all became marginalised and moulded into a coherent analysis that promoted the agenda the French authorities had planned for Morocco. The Office of Native Craft Industry, an official French organisation, created models or pilot workshops in Fez (see Chapter Four) and later replicated these in Rabat, Meknes, and Safi. The Office installed these workshops in buildings owned or rented by the Protectorate Administration from Moroccan landlords, and mobilised the best craftsmen. The Office also exhibited artefacts manufactured in these workshops in public galleries in Rabat, Meknes and Safi. During this period, the French shifted these workshops from being part of a humanitarian program, which initially aimed at assisting artisans, into real agents of commercialisation and surveillance. French administrators issued the necessary propaganda, which the Office of Native Craft Industry circulated throughout the country and abroad. The Office emphasised the "heroic stature of some Moroccan craftsmen."47 It propagated the graphic documentation of antique models and technical procedures, which conformed strictly to local and traditional practices. The Office, in addition, retrained and had adult craftsmen obey fixed and predetermined criteria. Behind the colonial tone and zeal for general control, however, lay the reality dictated by daily practicalities. There existed room for bending the rules on which the French built this "newly found authenticity." Demands of modern taste proved stronger than those established by history, tradition, and colonial ideology. For example, the introduction of a metallic reflective glazing technique (used in the past in Palermo, Italy, and in Valencia and Malaga, Spain) into the Fez and the Safi glazed pottery, considerably revived this trade and transformed it locally and abroad into a luxurious industry, into an "artistic craft."48

Colonial Assistance The 1920 reforms initiated a relative prosperity, which a minority of craftsmen enjoyed. Three consecutive years of drought between 1927 and 1930, coupled with the world-wide economic depression beginning in 1929, however, brought the economic life of the medinas to a stand-

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still. The international financial crisis of 1929 echoed in the Protectorate by the early 1930, and Moroccans with substantial capital, who previously over-extended their businesses, could not come up now with the needed cash to redeem their financial and business ventures. Large numbers of merchants and artisans, in the meantime, fell into poverty. Cheap, mass-produced Japanese goods flooded internal markets. Kenneth Brown reminds us that in Salé artisans recalled the crisis not as the international crisis but as `am jabun, or the "year of [the invasion of products made in] Japan."49 The situation worsened due to the six-fold increase in the general cost of living since 1914. The expense of the military aid the Protectorate Administration handed to Spain in its war against Abdelkrim al-Khattabi in the Rif, in the middle of the 1920s, and the flight of European capital to Morocco after the first sign of the international financial crisis, increased inflation. Up until the 1930s, none of the largest and most influential Fez guilds of shoemakers, tanners, weavers, silk manufacturers, and brass smiths, entered the path of mechanisation. For the first twenty years, the uncertain guidelines on which the Protectorate Administration managed crafts also contributed to the local predicament. Escalating rural migration caused a swelling unemployment in the medinas, producing a massive proletariat which Allal al-Fassi, the leader of the young nationalist movement, recruited. The nationalists responded to the troubled economic situation and to the 1930 Berber Dahir (a law drafted by the French with which they attempted to assimilate Berbers into French jurisprudence and, consequently, split Morocco into two legally independent ethnic groups) in ways the French did not expect. The Berber Dahir initiated the first major demonstrations since the establishment of the Protectorate, and swelled the ranks of the nationalists, propelling them as the major challenging force to the French. This new elite leaped to the front of politics and began what Le Tourneau has called "patriotism of a new style."50 Young Moroccans, who knew how to attract disenfranchised traditional scholars, merchants, and craftsmen, led the movement. At a time when the French had showed signs of weakness and the Palace and Makhzen increasingly collaborated with the French authorities from fear the Resident General would abolish the Moroccan Sultanate, nationalists pressed the French authorities to introduce major reforms. Nationalists such as Allal al-Fassi, his cousin Mohamed al-Fassi, Ahmed Balafrej, Omar Ben `Abd al-Jalil, and Hassan al-Ouazzani, had already built up a network of connections with their Algerian and Tunisian counterparts, many of whom belonged to the North African Muslim Students Association, created in Paris in 1927. The French understood during this period the political role craftsmen could play. In 1934 the Resident General "received reform plans sent in by the nationalists, as well as telegrams of protests sent by intellectuals [traditional

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scholars and members of the political elite], merchants, and craftsmen."51 Guilds also lost rural markets after the two year poor harvest of 19351936 reduced the buying power of the peasants. In spite of the French efforts to exhibit Moroccan crafts in International Fairs and to encourage French capital to invest in craft industries, the main clientele of crafts still remained in the medina and its surrounding countryside. The1935-36 economic disaster took on a political aspect, when the nationalists began recruiting substantial numbers of craftsmen. The French, responding in part to local initiatives, proposed more reforms. By this date, guilds such as those specialising in brass smithing, had already organised themselves into cooperatives, a development that encouraged the French to expand similar regulations.52 The subsequent 1937-1938 reforms had two goals. They had to supply the guilds with a "new shield" against the nationalists’ threat and to offer them technical and commercial assistance.53 Resident General Noguès established a special committee that included both French and Moroccans. The efforts made by General A. Blanc, the Municipalities, the Inspection of Native Craft, the Moroccan Charifian Office of Export, the Chamber of Commerce, the Fair Committee, and the Craft Fund (created in 1937) led to the first real attempt the French authorities made to assist traditional industries to survive beyond the crisis. Regional Savings and Credits Banks, initially created first to help farmers with loans, also extended help to craftsmen to renew their material supplies. As late as 1930, the Fez craft industry included 120 guilds which involved over 15,000 families, of which 8 to 9,000 gained their livelihood from leather related professions alone. Shoe makers included 2,600 master craftsmen, 3,200 workers, and 1,200 apprentices; while the weaving industry totalled 3,500 workers in 600 workshops which used 340 tons of wool a year, and employed an additional 2,000 female spinners, who worked from their homes.54 The fact that the majority of craftsmen continued to reside and work in the medinas despite the crisis gave legitimacy to the 1937-38 reforms. Following the creation of Loan Banks by the Protectorate Administration, the new reforms, based on the dahir of May 1937, endowed the guilds with an official status. Five banks granted relief funds to guilds in the five main regions of Rabat, Fez, Meknes, Marrakesh-Safi, and Casablanca-Mazagan (now El Jedida). Each bank had a list of the viable guilds in its district, as well as a list of their constituents. Prosperous artisans received individual loans, whereas the unfortunate got collective credits. Inspired by the pre-Protectorate system of social relief, loans consisted of clothes, food, workshop supplies, and raw materials. However, the project essentially aimed at administering guild members into a system which controlled both profession and output.55 The French

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authorities deemed the system successful; in Fez and Rabat alone it reined in sixty guilds. This intervention did not constitute humanitarian gesture, but rather approximated rewards to guilds which embraced newly implemented labour rules.56 Though the Fez medina included 120 guilds, the administration helped only those which presented a sufficient degree of commercial value, and showed their willingness to embrace the French modern techniques and organisational work guidelines. Under the new order, the French authorities communicated their decisions to craftsmen via the Municipalities which, in addition, received commissions, thereby bypassing the amins and the muhtasibs. The amins notified craftsmen, asked for their bids, and distributed advances to members whom the Municipalities viewed as "professionally moral."57 In this power reconfiguration, the financial assistance defined the craftsmen as a body part in the machinery of the Protectorate economy, and less as social subjects. As Berque would have it, loans reconstituted the guild from within. The French, however, had competitors in pursuing the control of the guilds. A large number of Moroccan and foreign intermediary agents, wholesalers, "affairists" and entrepreneurs, monopolised commissions, knew how to exploit the "simple mindedness of the amin[s]," and transformed craftsmen into simple wage earners. The Protectorate Administration, in its effort to reinforce its grip over production and in agreement with the Office of Native Crafts and the Municipalities decided, beginning in 1940, to deal directly with the craftsmen. This policy trimmed the power of the foreign middle men and the Moroccan bourgeois merchants, such as the influential Fez capitalists, the Sebti Brothers, who dominated the weaving industry and proved hard to supervise.58 World War II brought unexpected realities. Imported European supplies for Moroccan use dwindled while demand increased. This state of affairs did not benefit urban "noble" crafts including gold thread manufacturing or brass smithing, but aided new crafts unknown in Morocco before the establishment of the Protectorate and which began to develop, including those related to army supplies. Artefacts produced locally for French and Moroccan troops stationed in the Protectorate flourished and, in one year from October 1939 to October 1940, Fez alone produced a total of 4,916,000 francs worth of goods.59 A multitude of grocers and vegetable sellers, as a result, abandoned their shops and began dealing in this growing trade, creating a market for army clothes, shoes, belts, can straps, and rifle slings. To counterbalance these innovations and in hope of assisting traditional crafts, the Protectorate Administration harnessed its administrative resources. A Craft Committee representing both the Resident General and the Makhzen drafted the guidelines for further guild reforms. The Committee included the Political Affairs Bureau, the Economic Affairs

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Bureau, the Finances Administration, the Native Affairs Bureau, the Commerce Bureau, the Native Craft Legislative Studies Bureau, the Adviser to the Moroccan Charifian Government, and the Moroccan Charifian Export Office. Given the great success of the Moroccan crafts in the 1931 Paris International Exposition, the Committee maximised the diffusion of these crafts to European markets. The Committee drew up a draft of a law that regulated both production and export. The Moroccan Charifian Office searched for prospective markets, supervising and controlling merchandise earmarked for export. The Office and the Services of Native Crafts constituted between the months of May and October 1937 a collection of models of Moroccan crafts which craftsmen began manufacturing for British, Austrian, and Dutch markets. In order for the Moroccan craft industries to meet the demand of these markets, the Committee requested the creation of a Moroccan Craft Trading Post. The Five Loan Banks created this Post in April 1939 as a private enterprise, complementary to the Office and the Services of Native Crafts. Whereas the Office located new external markets and secured Moroccan participation in International Expositions, the Post studied the measures that would facilitate sales. The Loan Banks gave advances on commissions in the form of urgent loans, which the Post distributed and the Service supervised their execution.60 The Post then packaged and guaranteed delivery of the executed products, wrote invoices, and received payments. Thanks to these efforts, the traditional industries regained some of their confidence, and began exporting to France, Senegal, Algeria, Tunisia, Britain, Belgium, and Holland. Locally, the Committee expanded the markets by keeping a tight watch on the manufacture of supplies for the goum (Moroccan soldiers), including jellabas (men's hooded cloaks), sandals, and other items. The Committee, in addition, encouraged the guilds to continue participating in the expositions of Rabat and Fez as well as those held by the Casablanca House of Native Crafts. These joint efforts had an additional objective, consisting in the adaptation of the local craft industries to the needs of the modern markets overseas through the mobilisation of the craftsmen themselves.61 On a technical level, the Committee introduced new concepts of job ethics. The success of strengthening the industries relied primarily on the aptitude the artisans had in understanding that the survival and development of their economy depended on their ability to assimilate unfamiliar techniques. Brothers Jérôme and Jean Tharaud had, for example, observed during their trip in Morocco, some ten years earlier, that the craftsmen’s incompatibility with modern business agreements conflicted with their traditional conducts. The Tharauds had complained that as soon as a European client concluded with an artisan a business deal, say a commis-

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sion that took a day or a week to complete, the purchaser soon discovered that "things which European[s could] not live without" including "punctuality, regularity, and ... accountability [did] not exist in the ethics of the native ma`alam [master craftsman]. Delivery [was] delayed under any imagined pretext."62 The new reforms thus presented the guild project as a "defence organism of...professional interest" against idleness.63 The Craft Committee also ordered that failing guilds needed support in order to stabilise the medinas’ economies. It restricted membership in younger and prospering guilds from fear that it would lead to the devaluation of old ones. On other occasions, the Committee redirected the labour force from declining guilds including those of saddle makers and reintegrated them into those which thrived by dealing in maroquinery (leather wallets, belts, women's hand bags), an industry which did not exist before 1912 and which the Protectorate Administration created mainly for tourists. The Committee, in addition, did not see fit to impose tight surveillance over the guilds, because it understood finally that each had its own customs and qa`idas. Shifting course, the Committee began, to a certain degree, revisiting previous reform policies by relying more on Moroccan authorities under the guidance of the muhtasibs, who introduced a relaxed version of rules that respected customary traditions. The guilds, as we have seen above, formed old institutions, which did not need a judicial status to accomplish their trade operations. Soon after the French implemented the 1937-38 reforms, the guilds experienced difficulties when they had to register trademarks of their products and open accounts with the Loan Banks. For these practical reasons, the Committee endowed the most active among them with a legal status, a measure needed only by a small number. Well-established guilds escaped these regulations. The new guidelines forced all craftsmen to assimilate modern French techniques in order to improve quality. To fight cheap imitations, the Office of Native Crafts issued a state stamp, which guaranteed the authentic origin, the local character, and the high standard of Moroccan carpets. The improvement of quality went hand in hand with the needed re-education of craftsmen on French job ethics and work logic. Most significantly they had to learn the value of prompt delivery and to respect the wishes of their customers.64 For the Committee, a craftsman who had an average workshop and worked for his own account represented an isolated business enterprise which only made a trivial economic contribution. When he applied for a loan, bankers convinced him of the need to join other craftsmen with limited means, to invest his resources with theirs, and to create with them a collective stock of material and a common workshop. In short, small workshops had to transform into coop-

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eratives. These sanctions actually gave traditional industries some advantages. Within ten years, craft exportations increased to 390 million francs in 1948, 423 in 1949, and 513 in 1950, prompting Moroccan foreign markets to extend to the international zone of Tangier, France, Algeria, Tunisia, the French West African colonies, the European Low Countries, Austria, Germany, Sweden, and the United States.65 Yet, as progressive as this program might sound, it stemmed from conservative principles imbedded in colonial ideology. It kept Moroccan craftsmen as an economically stable and as a vital social class, but segregated in the old medinas. The reforms did not modernise rural crafts either, because the French officials viewed them as meagre and only involved what one of them, Delmas-Fort, called "a dust of artisans of unequal value," and because single families managed them to bring in an additional income.66 Making the reform process explicit produces insight into the multilayered of French colonial discourse in the Moroccan Protectorate. As noted in the beginning of this chapter, Protectorate politics had flexibility. In general, Moroccans participated, though reluctantly, in these politics and, on numerous occasions, left their mark. Mohamed al-Moqri's holding on to traditional culture as an imperative component of self-assertion represented a reaction against the onslaught of the French "peaceful" colonisation in its political, economic, and cultural forms. His emphatic refusal to reform Moroccan guilds according to Hardy’s plan produced revisions of definitions, which French colonial scholars held of Moroccan crafts, guilds, and culture. In other words, the reforms emerged from a negotiated process between the protector and the protected, a process that gave birth to new alliances. On the other hand, the reforms illustrate an important political cooperation, one that made it possible for both parties to enhance stability and order in the medinas. In Part Two we will investigate how the French deployed craft education and designed a craft pedagogy as the means with which they peacefully accessed both the Moroccan guilds and the Moroccan feminine milieu.

CHAPTER THREE: COLONIAL MASS EDUCATION

Critical students of the Protectorate would demonstrate their dismay when they realise that the French based their theoretical framework for mass education on the precepts of social organisation, which the Moroccan Makhzen and aristocracy had maintained. Under the Protectorate both groups supported French reform of education arguing that schools had to conform to the heterogeneity of the country's ethnic population and geography.1 A caste system branded pre-Protectorate Moroccan society. A nobility of blood and knowledge monopolised public, governmental, and trade offices for centuries. Not all Moroccans had the same chance, and the future of an individual depended on his or her social class. The decisive factors which decided Moroccan lives included inheritance and lineage, rarely qualification or professional achievement. The French authorities upheld this caste system arguing that, because Moroccans did not constitute a homogenous mass, a child from a particular social caste had to receive an education that conformed to his or her milieu.2 The Protectorate Administration shielded this social order by connivance of both the Moroccan Makhzen and aristocracy and the French authorities. This chapter explores the theoretical grounds on which the French built colonial mass education on this model.

Theoretical Framework of Colonial Mass Education Educational reforms under the Protectorate purposefully divided the Moroccan population. The French authorities, accordingly, devised different types of education for its different ethnic and social groups. Children of French officials and colonists and European workers and settlers studied in French schools to become the future officials and man-

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agers who would focus on "la mise en valeur," and would run the Protectorate by carrying out various forms of colonial exploitation. Franco-Jewish schools prepared young Moroccan Jews for careers in trade and professions. Lyautey believed that offering too generous an education to Moroccan Muslims, a people still seen as "coarse" and "uncivilised" in its first contact with the French, would create rebels.3 The French limited educational options for the Muslims. They channelled them into an educational system, which they viewed as appropriate for their social class. French education officials calculated enrolment according to the number of projected job vacancies in the commercial sectors of the economy. In the medinas, small groups of well off Muslims (the notables) attended Franco-Moroccan schools and, after graduation from Muslim High Schools, they found jobs in small numbers in the Makhzen and the Protectorate parallel administrations. They became subaltern workers in the police department and post office, clerks in trade and the industrial sectors, cashiers, guides, translators, and hotel personnel. The French enrolled the larger part of the Muslim population, consisting of the urban and rural masses, in vocational trade schools, where they trained in the French work ethic and prepared for Moroccan traditional crafts as well as European industries and mechanised agriculture. The number of apprentices accepted in each school, therefore, corresponded to the need of the cities and regions where they operated, and did not surpass the vacant posts in the job market. This quota system required constant contact between the General Administration of Public Education and the specialised agencies which managed and sponsored the schools. According to the French economist, Joseph Chailley, this plurality of schools introduced a "new art" of colonisation.4 Whereas under the old methods of colonialism only slavery provided the major way to exploit the colonised, French colonial politics in Morocco rested on a conciliation of the interests of the conquering power with those of the conquered people, which evolved out of doctrines rooted in the Enlightenment and the French Revolution. The French deemed slavery by the old approach unethical, and believed that conversion of colonised subjects to Christianity would resolve the problem and smooth the form of exploitation. Proselytism would thus pave the way to cultural assimilation through education. Maximilien de Robespierre, the leader of the Committee of Public Safety of the French Revolution, championed JeanJacques Rousseau's philosophical doctrine of social equality and attempted to implement its creed first in France to help the masses of the declassés evolve into citizens with equal rights. Robespierre intended to export, at a later stage, these same principles into the French Empire. His proclamation developed into a new thesis that called for the equality of the

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races, soliciting both the colonisers and the colonised to participate in managing the colonies.5 The proponents of mandatory education in France, as envisioned by Rousseau and Robespierre, argued that a limited education for the subjugated would suffice to transform them into productive colonial citizens. A century later, after careful study of other empires, French colonial theoreticians reached the conclusion that assimilation of different races in the Empire into French civilisation--which also meant their incorporation under French laws—was a "chimère," or a wild dream, that would never work because it would cost much more than France could bear. In abandoning the tenets of colonial assimilation, French policy makers sought a new theoretical framework by studying the colonial history of the Romans and the experiences and methods undertaken in India by the British, their colonial rivals. The sociologist, Léopold de Saussure, for example, had observed that the French had acted in opposition to the strategies of the Romans in North Africa and the British in India. He pointed out that, whereas the Romans kept the Gauls compliant with a single legion and the British ensured, at the end of the nineteenth century, their domination over 250 million Hindu and Muslim Indians with only 65,000 men, 50,000 French troops had failed to "pacify" 3 million Algerians.6 De Saussure eventually called for the modification of the philosophical tenets on which the French founded their principles of assimilation. The colonial claim that different races could merge into French culture meant that a "single constitution of human nature" had to exist.7 De Saussure appropriated the "findings" of the evolutionary archaeologist Gustave le Bon as the starting point of his assertions and argued that, just as embryology consisted in animal and vegetal species, social gestation, like the former, obeyed the laws of evolution.8 Le Bon, himself, borrowed Darwin's evolutionary principles in his critique of the historians' claim that human civilisations shared common cultural traits. In doing so, he shattered the illusions of a "utopian natural equality" among the races, which French assimilationists championed.9 Le Bon believed that, since their origins, "primitive" races had continuously diverged from each other and evolved independently, making diversity a general axiom that covered societies, institutions, individuals, laws, and belief systems as well.10 De Saussure developed this postulate explaining that, because equality was not intrinsic to human nature, only one race was entitled to it.11 Supporting de Saussure's polemic, economist Chailley asserted that human history unfolded in a continuous passage of civilisations from one people to another. His reasoning had far reaching implications. Colonised subjects, though they had created advanced civilisations in the past, had to recognise that modern colonising powers had surpassed their

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achievements. Chailley emphasised "the naturalness of inequality" among the human races and argued for the legitimacy of treating colonised subjects unequally.12 French colonial education policies in Morocco also stemmed in part from similar debates in France. In the 1920s Edouard Herriot, a former President of the French Senate, contended that only an extensive and rational formation of trained workers from the masses would enable France to develop its economy and compete against other international economic powers (see Chapter Six). He also stated that "any common man should practice a trade."13 He meant that a man's trade took precedence over all his other social attributes. He justified his sectarian ideas by maintaining that no country could achieve democracy or the promise of equality among all its citizens. Rather political regimes permitted each individual to evolve to the level to which his "labour," his "personal effort," and his "own virtue," not the principles of democracy, could take him.14 The main issue faced by the French colonial theoreticians, including René Meunier, a sociologist and ethnographer, however, involved finding a solution to the equation of the mise en valeur and the mise en contact without a clash. That is, the development of a colony for exploitation generated contact between the colonisers and the colonised who, in essence, constituted two different peoples belonging to incompatible cultures. Meunier, moreover, framed colonialism in three precepts: "domination," "association," and "emancipation."15 Colonial domination relied on conquest and on direct rule, which conquerors imposed, predominantly, by physical coercion. When the colonised subjects deemed this direct rule unsupportable, they sought emancipation, which Meunier recognised as their ultimate goal. His second category, "association," interests us directly since its theoretical formulation, as articulated by Meunier, allows us to better understand the Moroccan case. Meunier proposed that colonialism based on "association," would last longer. Theoretically, it drew from the three axioms of the French Revolution's slogan, namely, "Humanity, Equality, and Fraternity," that promised to benefit all mankind. Nevertheless, because equality could only be practiced and could only involve the "civilised peoples" of the metropole who shared "common interests," the French could not extend this concept to heterogeneous groups of peoples in the Empire.16 The dissemination of equality in the Empire, Meunier warned, meant that the colonisers would have to recreate the colonised subjects in their own image. Hence, he fashioned these principles into a notion which he called "a colonialism of generosity" and "humanitarianism," in short, into a method which mirrored the British postulate of "the white man's burden" and which posited that the "white man," in an altruistic gesture, had the duty to protect

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and organise the destiny of the "man of colour." French colonial assimilation, in its new formulation, implied a subsequent political and social integration of the colonised subjects in the name of a dogmatic and absolute ideal. Albert Sarraut, Minister of French colonies in the 1920s, additionally, refuted the claim of the assimilationists by insisting that "the worst of all equalities consist[ed] in treating unequal things as equal." French colonialism, he explained, could transform neither the colonised subjects nor their traditions by "a stroke of law, decrees, or regulations."17 If the assimilationists aimed at assisting the "natives" and at furthering their evolution, they had to acknowledge the impossibility of the diffusion of political and administrative equality in the colony. Sarraut defined colonialism based on association as a colonialism "temperé," a moderate colonialism in which "assimilation" constituted a process not only of "fusion," but also of "confusion," during which the coloniser continues to amaze the colonised and "preaches to him the superiority of his civilisation."18 The French set these theories in motion by studying the British, whom they acknowledged as "our masters who have simplified the problem" of the contact between the coloniser and the colonised.19 The British treated their Indian subjects neither as slaves nor as equal citizens but, rather, as "a separate race" which belonged to a different civilisation and which the British respected and helped to evolve within the limits of its own traditions. The British, in addition, restricted migration of English officials to India, thus cutting the cost of maintaining colonial control. Early in the twentieth century, for example, they asserted their authority over 365 million Indians with 14,413 officials—a far lesser number than those they employed at the end of the nineteenth century-- while France poured into Indochina 6,000 to manage its 20 million inhabitants.20 To elucidate this assertion further, De Saussure again mobilised Le Bon's evolutionary theory as an unshakable source of rationalisation. In the fifth chapter of one of his widely read books, he quoted at length the exposé le Bon presented to the 1889 Colonial Convention.21 Le Bon questioned the benefits of colonial education by recalling the early mistakes committed by the British in India in their attempts to assimilate the local population. In 1835 the British established an English educational system and carried out recruitment on a massive scale. Curricula integrated the Bible, books of English literature and Western sciences, instead of the local mythologies and books on letters and sciences. By the end of the nineteenth century, the educated Indians, however, became no friendlier to the British than they had been fifty years earlier. European education did not develop the mind of the colonised, because "the results of the experience were diametrically opposed to the indications of the theory."22

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The schools, the British thought, would help the Indians progress and ameliorate their material situation. The colonised adopted the metropole's delinquency, immoral vices, and disequilibrium, instead. De Saussure argued that British education so badly adapted to the "mental constitution" of the Indians that they "abandoned their own language, literature, religion, philosophy, the regulations of their caste system, and their centuries old customs without mastering [Western] sciences, becoming honest individuals, or sincere Christians."23 Worse, educated Indians soon turned against British colonial law itself. The French in Algeria perpetrated similar miscalculation because, according to de Saussure, they educated Algerian Muslims in a way far removed from their own culture. French efforts to Christianise the Muslims through missionary education failed. During the 1868 famine, for example, Father Lavigerie, the Archbishop of Algiers, recruited four thousand homeless Muslim boys and girls who became known as "Lavigerie's orphans." After years of missionary education, only about a hundred remained Christian; the rest converted back to Islam. When a number of French colonists hired these orphans, they soon realised that they had acquired bad character and "all the vices, those of their race which they indelibly carried in their blood, as well as our own [moral debasement]."24 To substantiate his argument, de Saussure quoted a passage from a book on the French colonial experience in Africa by Paul Dumas, a journalist. Dumas highlighted the discouraging attempts made by French administrators who believed that only by enlisting Algerian Muslims in the army could they "cultivate the[ir] soul[s]." The recruits, they thought, would benefit from closer contact with their French officers. Serving together "under the same flag," would help "to frenchify" them. The French administrators however realised that, once military service ended and once an Algerian took off his military uniform, he disposed of "the thin varnish of French civilisation which he had acquired."25 Upon his return to his village, he "resumed eating couscous, marrying as many women as he wished or could afford; and morally, he continued to believe that there was no god but God, and that Mahomet [sic] was His Prophet, that the Christians were dogs, sons of dogs, and that a woman was a beast of burden."26 De Saussure tactfully chose to quote a passage with typical Orientalist and racist undertones in order to advance the claim that neither European education, nor daily physical contact between the coloniser and the colonised, could transform or encourage the latter to adopt the civilisation and the culture of the former. For colonial theoreticians, what mattered most in the education of the colonised was not the disequilibrium in colonial society but the fear that education would give the colonised the wherewithal to think as the coloniser, and would permit

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him to understand the causes of his predicament. De Saussure, in fact, warned that "our education will show [the natives] the distance which we put between them and us. Each page from the books of our history will teach them that nothing is more humiliating for a people than to accept foreign domination without resistance."27 Sarraut also marshalled Le Bon's evolutionary theories as well as colonial stereotypes. He maintained that the moral development among the races occurred at different levels, and that French colonised subjects had such character traits as "laziness, secretiveness...the lack of responsibility" that stemmed from their "inherited misery, anxiety, and subservience." Hence, if these colonial declassés occupied higher public or private offices, they would pose serious dangers to the stability of the colonial order.28 From its inception as a functioning body of exploitation colonial education existed to develop, discipline, exploit, and normalise the colonised. As Sarraut convincingly showed in a major construct of colonial ideology, colonialism should offer the colonised urban masses a vocational education for both moral and practical reasons. He argued that "it was preferred not to divert young natives from the commerce and trade professions they were destined to," because to do otherwise they will contribute to an irresponsible increase in the number of the "secretaries" and "public notaries" needed to manage the colony.29 Vocational education, at the same time, guaranteed that educated colonised subjects would not have the opportunity to interfere in the affairs of the colonial state.

Training a Service Labour Class in the Moroccan Protectorate The ideological and profoundly political meaning of colonial educational theory, as I have just outlined above, illuminates the strategies French authorities employed in establishing social command in Morocco. The achievement of the French army in pacifying and imposing order in the dissident regions underlies French texts on education in the Protectorate. If the educational apparatus transformed Moroccans into suitably disciplined agents trained to foster French hegemony, then the reform of the country's trades, as already noted, would incorporate its economy into the colonial vision by harnessing local artisans to its purposes. Vocational trade schools recruited the children of the destitute masses, taught them French methods of production, and placed them in the medinas’ workshops to further guarantee a French presence and set a course for control over the Moroccan sector as well as impose aspects of French visual culture on Moroccans.

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A few comments about the workings of this education system need to be noted. Documented evidence in French colonial literature points to the fact that, just as French troops pacified the armed resistance so, too, the educational reforms aimed at mollifying the population. In a 1917 report, Gaston Loth, the first French General Director of Public Education in Morocco, discussed the need to create vocational schools that would encourage Moroccans to retain "their religious traditions, their family customs, their secular habits, and their social hierarchy,"30 in other words, to lull them away from interfering in the affairs of the colonial state. Mass education took place in urban and rural grammar schools in pre-training division. After graduation students went on to study trades in independent vocational schools. One point has to be made clear, though. The programs in these schools differed depending on the students’ geographic locations. In the mountains, mainly Berber areas, primary schools prepared students for agriculture-related vocations, whereas in the cities, they enrolled them in industrial and craft professions. In addition to trades and crafts, students learned Arabic, arithmetic, the Koran, and a rudimentary notion of the French language which allowed them to carry on short and simple conversations with their French teachers, and later with their bosses and clients. At an early stage, the General Administration of Public Education annexed the pre-training divisions to the Franco-Muslim grammar schools. As we shall see in the following chapter, at a later date these offshoots would ultimately became independent vocational schools. Major cities including Fez, Meknes, Salé, Rabat, Casablanca, Marrakesh, Tangier, Safrou, Taza, Oujda, Mazagan (now El Jadida), Mogador (now Essaouira), Taroundant, and Khouribga had one or two such preparatory schools. Enrolment in them totalled one seventeenth of the Moroccan student body.31 Once the French authorities recruited the needed number of apprentices, they offered them training deemed sufficient enough to meet the challenge of both specialised modern industries and reformed Moroccan craft workshops. Theoretically, the French designed the curriculum to form skilled craftsmen to strengthen the economy of the medinas. They also intended to have Europeans hire Moroccan workers into every economic sector that had a tight link with French industries. French officials charged with the management of these institutions pointed out that Moroccans had a tendency to dislike manual labour, because the new French methods of organised labour clashed with their traditional concept of work. The officials, moreover, compared Moroccans to the French in the metropole who sent their children to schools to help them escape strenuous physical jobs.32 This particular fact had a negative outcome on the French plans, especially during the two World Wars when labour became scarce. To compensate, French and other European industrialists recruit-

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ed vocational apprentices before their graduation. The administration, hence, began paying them a daily allowance in order to encourage them remain in school and stabilise enrolment. By 1930, nearly twenty years after the establishment of the Protectorate, fourteen separate vocational schools existed in Morocco. Ten specialised in teaching metal and woodworking, crafts that had a direct relation to European industries. Young graduates entered a job market, which required skilled workers in the building construction sites in the villes nouvelles. The remaining four schools, located in the major craft centres of Salé, Mogador (now Essaouira), Marrakesh, and Safi, concentrated on cabinet making, maroquinery (leather goods including wallets and belts destined for tourists) and ceramics. Though the French authorities claimed to have created the schools for the Moroccan poor, it limited enrolment. During the first twenty years, of an average 400,000 male children of school age each year, the authorities recruited a mere 500.33 According to André Colliez, these schools relied on the colonial assumption which professed that "any native to whom we will teach a craft, will be able to earn a living; and when we pay him a salary higher than those who did not escape misery, he will not become a discontented subject, or a rebel."34 The primary role of the schools was "to place the child, to familiarise him with a trade which he would likely practice in the future, and around which his school career should revolve .... so that we will keep him as long as possible in the environment from which we have taken him."35 G. Gillet, president of the Association of Commerce and Industry for Trade Education, created by the General Secretariat of the Moroccan Sharifian Government on February 20, 1917, explained that apprentices who graduated should join the already existing Moroccan craft workshops or the small and average-size French industries in order to ameliorate their knowledge and become trained workers.36 In defence of the schools, he pointed out that any other modern education would do Moroccans a disservice, because it would offer them a theoretical education which did not serve their immediate needs. These early organisational precepts demonstrate that the education which the French designed for the destitute did not constitute a goal in itself. Rather, it offered a small number from this large social class the means with which they could better their basic living conditions and, hence, accept the colonial status quo. Such education fit local conditions of labour and followed the evolution of techniques introduced by the colonial administration. Its management required, above all, a constant contact between different administrations and industrial organisms.37 Only by preserving this tight configuration between the political colonial agenda and the practical aim of mass education did the French meet the task of developing Morocco for further exploitation.

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The First and Second World War years tested the adaptability of this educational system. The Protectorate Administration, working with the General Administration of Public Education and the Regional committees of Commerce and Industry, first committed itself to supplying graduate students to substitute for French workers sent to the European war front. At first the Protectorate Administration recruited young apprentices from the medinas' workshops. It initially rewarded their good performance with a certificate, but soon faced great difficulties. The industrialists and their foremen, most often interested in immediate gains, offered the new recruits mediocre training. Moroccan employees, not accustomed to European work procedures, on the other hand, showed little interest in their new jobs. The need for specialised vocational schools become apparent, for only in them the young apprentices could sharpen their skills. In creating these schools the French authorities sought the collaboration of Makhzen and the Moroccan aristocracy, described by the General Director of Public Education as a "graceful" move which attracted the necessary "moral support" and facilitated the relationship between French instructors and Moroccan apprentices, as well as between French employers and their newly trained Moroccan employees.38 Since vocational education only admitted a restricted number of eligible students, a few among those who showed interest in pursuing vocational education had the chance of becoming qualified workers. Of these, an even smaller number gained their livelihood by performing specialised jobs not only in Morocco but also in France.39 During World War II, for example, the metropole's demand for workers increased. Throughout the war France summoned each year 50,000 from Belgium, Poland, Czechoslovakia, and Italy. Recruitment of Europeans was taxing, because of the political instability on the continent and because of high inflation in foreign monetary exchange. The Protectorate eventually provided a ready and cheap labour force, especially from the southern Sous region. In addition, the 80,000 Moroccans who seasonally migrated from the Dar`a, Tafilalt, and Ouarzazate regions and sought jobs in colonial Algeria, headed instead to France.40 In peacetime, Moroccan trained workers fared less well. The French authorities required the schools to allow only a limited number of students to graduate, because a substantial number would make "the battle of wages" worse by competing in the job market with French soldiers returning from the war front.41 Graduates who succeeded in securing small or average-sized job in European industries in the ville nouvelles faced monitoring and protection from leftist political agitators. The authorities asked European employers to keep these young employees in their workshops and factories as long as possible, alleging that their skills needed further sharpening. This strategy had wider political conse-

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quences. It avoided the mistakes committed in other French colonies. In Tunisia, for example, a Central Cooperative of Crafts and Trades grouped graduates from the vocational schools into cooperatives, gave them capital, helped them buy tools and supplies, and allowed them to open their own workshops, consequently "committing the mistake of increasing their political power."42 Moroccan schools, in contrast, had less ambitious goals. Designed to keep the Protectorate status quo by limiting the formation of independent Moroccan workshops, French authorities undercut any competition Moroccans might launch against French and other European industries. The authorities "feared" that increases in the numbers of workshops owned and managed by Moroccans would lead to runaway craft production, would cause prices to plummet, and would further weaken traditional industries in the medinas. As we have seen in the preceding chapter, the French hypothesised that, when properly administered and infused with trained workers, the workshops, though small in number, would help develop the Moroccan sector. Master craftsmen, however, could not pursue any business initiatives on their own as long as they did not follow the French guidelines. The Regional Inspector of Primary Education scrutinised vocational schools. Instructors completed a one-year program in a special department in the Ferme Blanche, the Casablanca agricultural trade school. French master workers, who in the early years of the Protectorate, lacked the necessary general education and technical proficiency taught the instructor trainees. Following a 1930 decree, however, only those with the same level of expertise as French metropolitan craftsmen got these jobs. Personnel also included Moroccan master craftsmen who taught traditional crafts. With this decree, the General Administration of Public Education shifted its focus to a partially theoretical curriculum, which offered students the necessary intellectual support by teaching them courses in reading, writing, and geometric drawing. At its core, vocational training nevertheless remained, as the General Administration acknowledged, a "technical education" which consisted "primarily of the perpetual translation and execution of a tangible or imagined object in a graphic representation." The General Administration deemed a Moroccan who trained in these exercises, knew how to perform simple calculations, and spoke simple French, as "a good worker."43 Louis Brunot, the General Inspector of the Native Education Bureau, in an attempt to accelerate the apprentices' acquisition of "useful" French, "indigenised" the French language to suit their immediate professional concerns. He prohibited the schools from offering courses in French that had no connection with the students' training or future occupations. Instructors of the French language, he recommended, had to concentrate on teaching "a truthful usage of everyday French" so that apprentices

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would be able to construct practical phrases which they could pronounce easily. Above all, instructors had to refrain from initiating their pupils into "minute variations, which in the mouth of Moroccans," Brunot lamented, became "d'un ridicule invraissemblable," a dubious mockery.44 The goal of the collaboration between the Protectorate Administration and other organisms had to keep an eye out for signs of any social and political consciousness apprentices might develop. The President of the Committee of Commerce and Industry, for example, warned that trainees had to remain in constant contact with the schools, for they might wrongly imagine that they owned their own trade and might use their skills to further their political demands.45 When under the instruction of a French employer in a small industrial workshop, the fresh graduate would perfect his moral formation as well. But when placed in a large factory setting, the president explained, the young worker rarely came in contact with his employer, whose main concern was production, not the moral aptitude of his employee. Also, "because of his young age, and because of his inexperience, the [Moroccan] worker might fall prey to professional [political] agitators."46 The General Administration of Public Education, as an additional precaution, instructed the schools' directors and instructors to keep contact with apprentices after graduation. They had to visit them in their work place and record their moral standing in a Carnet d'Apprentissage, or school notebook. The Committee, furthermore, allowed the creation of Advisory Committees in each city that had a vocational trade school. Members of these organisms included representatives from the General Administration, the Civil Control Bureau, the Municipality, the Chambers of Commerce and Agriculture, Moroccan Makhzen officials, merchants, craftsmen, notables, and other business owners who might hire apprentices. The committees sponsored schools and kept apprentices under tight control after they joined the work force. The committees' members met four times a year, exchanged ideas, drew conclusions, and informed the General Administration about issues that might have escaped its attention. They sustained steady communication with industrialists and entrepreneurs and, once a year, expressed opinions regarding needed recruitment and curriculum changes. They also participated in designing the final exams and helped new graduates find jobs. In the words of G. Gillet, the committees grew out of "a frank and a solid" associative effort between the French and the Moroccans in establishing, regulating, and controlling mass education.47 The committees, however, did not meddle in the technical aspects of education and did not voice opinions about teaching methods. The General Administration decided these issues. The power of the French educational apparatus did not reside in the

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concepts of Lyautey or Loth, its principal founders, but, as we shall see in the following two chapters, in its functioning as a system of a flexible pedagogy. Diverse organisations, representing both French and Moroccan interest groups, contributed to the formation of this scheme and to its adaptability to change. Vocational education, in its theoretical aspects and as a colonial vision, generally operated and disseminated its power through a set of heterogeneous instruments. It aimed at developing European industries by training Moroccan workers to handle French tools and follow French directives. It also infiltrated and transformed the craft workshops in the medinas from within by placing in them trained Moroccan apprentices who had assimilated French work methods. Such an education complied with French colonial standards. It offered Moroccans a sense that they could improve their lot, all the while preparing them to serve French interests. The following chapter investigates the curriculum of the vocational schools for men and explores the role Moroccans played in running and managing mass education in association with the French.

CHAPTER FOUR: VOCATIONAL TRADE SCHOOLS FOR MEN AND THE FRENCH INFILTRATION OF MOROCCO'S TRADITIONAL INDUSTRY

Inconsistency characterised French educational reforms in Morocco, and the vocational trade schools varied from each other. The French authorities recruited mainly the children of destitute families, orienting them into two divisions, European technical trades or Moroccan handicraft manufacturing. The environment, the city, and the market demands of a region defined the nature of each division and its curriculum. The General Administration of Public Education, in collaboration with the Bureau of Political Affairs and the offices of hiring, controlled training. They saw to it that curriculum accommodated production requirements.1 Courses abandoned the traditional procedures and introduced a variety of modern techniques. The practical aspect of this education forced workshops in the medinas to hire young workers who had assimilated French mode of production. The schools, hence, influenced the practices of the well-established master craftsmen who, because of the new work procedures and the superior skills of their assistants, had to reorganise their trade and adopt French guidelines. This chapter looks at the structure of these schools, their teaching programs, and the different parties involved in their management.

A Labour Force Loyal to the Protectorate: The Marrakesh Case The vocational schools in the Marrakesh had great flexibility. Their administrators revised and restructured curriculum as necessary. The Protectorate Administration developed the schools as a means of exploitation. It implemented them in the local milieu not as a rigid, fixed, or abstract concept, but rather as colonial establishments that would train a local labour force to undertake the tasks introduced by small and large

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4.1

4.2

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sized French and European industries. Thanks to its "excellent climate,"2 a limited number of French and European industrialists relocated to Marrakesh, the capital of southern Morocco. They, however, found out that Moroccan workers did not have the necessary technical skills for modern production and pressured French authorities to create vocational schools. Geographical and military factors also determined both the location of the schools and the training Moroccans received. The Marrakesh Committee for Economic Studies calculated that the formation of an extensive body of workers for new building construction-related industries (iron smithing and wood working), needed for Marrakesh’s ville nouvelle complemented the military pacification of the region. The development in the city of local industries would help contain the hostile Berber population that surrounded it, would create an atmosphere of peace, and would absorb the unemployed residing in the region. The committee drew connections between the mediocre know-how of the Marrakesh workers and the low pay they received.3 Hence, it offered salary increases, on the assumption that the performance of a welltrained worker, under the guidance of knowledgeable French foremen in factories or contractors at building construction sites, would in time pay the cost of creating these schools (figs. 4.1-2). Increasing the wages underscored a larger political goal. World War I led to serious economic crisis in Morocco. A year after the War began, in an attempt to keep their Moroccan workers from searching for jobs elsewhere in the country, French industrialists, under the incitement of the committee, gave their hired masons, carpenters, and ironsmiths a 33 % salary increase. The industrialists did not conceive of this raise as a means to better the life of their employees. They defined it, instead, as a "moral obligation" and the means with which to stop outward migration from the region. Such a measure would also hold workers "cantonised" and secured in their "palm groves."4 The increases in salary also attracted a large number of unskilled workers to Marrakesh, giving them incentives not to migrate north to the developing villes nouvelles of Casablanca and Rabat. The French authorities drew correlations between this policy of regional confinement and the creation of vocational schools. Prototype vocational workshops for Moroccan men first saw the light of day in Marrakesh in two schools which the General Administration of Public Education established in 1916 under the committee's suggestion in the Casbah and in the Sidi Bel `Abbas neighbourhood. The General Administration and the committee calculated that the schools would respond to the needs both of the thriving building construction industries in the ville nouvelle as well as fulfil the needs the medina's workshops had for trained craftsmen.

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In the Casbah School three workshops specialised in European building construction-related trades of iron smithing, cartwheel making, woodworking, and cabinet building. Equipment in the workshops consisted of a ventilated portable forge and two anvils, two benches, each with three clamps, a cutter, a drill, and a lathe. Instructors, chosen from among the best French master craftsmen, decided on supplies and manufacturing techniques. European gardeners, in addition, taught courses in both arboriculture and horticulture.5 The General Administration created two similar workshops at the Sidi Bel `Abbas School. But there workshops for masonry, plastering, and cement making replaced gardening courses. Schedules suffered from serious planning and the classrooms had a very relaxed supervision. Students attended the schools all week except on Fridays and Sundays. Instructors taught them the rudimentary notions of drawing and offered them primary and practical advice about their future tasks in building construction sites. Because of insufficient personnel, instructors taught morning classes at the Casbah and spent afternoons at Sidi Bel Abbes. This schedule rotated weekly and sometimes monthly. When instructors taught at the other school, students, under the supervision of a trained worker or an older adept apprentice, performed assignments designed by the absent instructor. The schools acquired tools and appliances from suppliers located in Casablanca’s ville nouvelle.6 Both schools taught Moroccan traditional crafts in additional workshops, one of which specialised in mosaics. The second workshop concentrated on plaster carving and decorative painting on frescos and ornamentation of walls, fountains, and doors. The third focused on woodcarving, a craft that required a higher level of mental concentration and manual dexterity. Only children who showed signs of intelligence and aptitude in carpentry enrolled in this class. At an early stage the schools hired a Moroccan ma`alam (master craftsman) to teach these crafts, but later replaced him with a French instructor. Through this workshop the French intended to form future cadres for the making of cabinets, furniture, chests, caskets, shelves, carved wooden beams, sculpted doors and tables, and marquetry (wood inlays). A fourth workshop formed decorators who ornamented furniture, ceilings, shelves, doors and tables, as well as other items, which their peers in the third workshop built from wood. A fifth dealt in brass artefacts, and there apprentices produced trays, wash-basins, incense burners, braziers, tallow candle sticks, among other items. To this workshop, the schools’ administrations added a smaller one which produced iron kitchen utensils, a craft with a long past throughout Morocco and which, after World War I, began to dwindle like many others, because it could not withstand the competition of European and Japanese inexpensive

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mass-produced rubber and plastic goods. In other words, the latter two workshops specialised in delicate metal carving and in them students learned the concept of patience. Both workshops had the additional goal of influencing the taste of Moroccan youth unfamiliar with these crafts. A sixth and final workshop taught bookbinding, a craft which, by this date, had become almost extinct in Marrakesh, a city whose reputation in the leather industry had equalled that of Fez. To revive these moribund trades, the General Administration of Public Education facilitated the import from Fez of a collection of iron goods, metal wares, and manuscripts. The schools' administrations, furthermore, displayed in their establishments collections of these and other artefacts which they purchased from Moroccan, French, and European amateur and professional collectors. The administrations aimed, in doing so, to teach students that, in their endeavour to manufacture local industrial items, they also needed to keep the artistic tradition of their country undamaged.7 I pointed out earlier that at this early stage in the reorganisation of Moroccan craft industries and the training of the local work force, the Protectorate Administration avoided fixed rules. So, too, craft education represented an amalgamation of concepts and ideas drawn from both precolonial and colonial methods. According to service notes written by Education Inspectors, apprentices trained as decorative painters, for example, used the same supplies as bookbinders. In many cases they wrote on wooden boards, similar to those used in msids (Koranic schools), but also employed new equipments introduced by the French, including compasses, pencils, and erasers. Those who displayed a lively interest in drawing could study plaster moulding and how to hammer brass. In learning decorative drawing, they analysed Moroccan ornaments. They practiced on defective pieces, and began by drawing with pencil a variety of motifs, after which they used compasses and chisels.8 Opinions about vocational schools also fluctuated. The French authorities argued that these institutions would stabilise the local labour force, and would help growing European industries flourish when favourable conditions returned after the War. Not everyone shared this optimistic opinion, however. The Marrakesh Committee for Economic Studies, for example, opposed the "symbolic" value of vocational training. It argued that, indeed, these schools taught the apprentices the values of a school’s diploma, but graduates also became arrogant toward traditional craftsmen, even though ma'alams had taught them to respect local social codes. The committee also thought that the schools would fail in their mission of producing skilled workers, since the training programs would take years to complete. That is, only apprentices from better off families could sustain this lengthy time, particularly since poor families needed their children to work. The committee condemned these estab-

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4.3

4.4

lishments for becoming "hot houses" that created a new breed of craftsmen who would divide the Moroccan community, instead of promoting social stability. Graduate apprentices would feel superior to their unschooled peers, although they would not have received better preparation to practice their trades than those who acquired a solid formation in a ma`alam’s workshop.9 Deliberations of the committee underscored its wish to appropriate the pedagogical methods widely followed in traditional workshops. Apprentices trained in a conventional fashion would unlikely

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desert their environment. Those formed in the schools, on the other hand, would feel demeaned to work under a ma`alam, and would, therefore, take their skills and seek their fortunes elsewhere in the country. If they had no talent, the committee warned, they would add to the large hordes of miserable declassés, or under-classes, who began to plague the streets of the villes nouvelles.10 Echoing arguments of colonial theoreticians who opposed colonial mass education in France, the committee further insisted that graduate apprentices could not manage their own workshops either, because they acquired inadequate formations. They would, instead, direct their anger against the roumis, the Christian French. The committee insisted that real vocational training should occur in pilot workshops. The French would run the pilot workshops where, unlike the vocational schools, teaching staff would include French instructors and Moroccan master craftsmen. Apprentices would also see their efforts appreciated with rising wages, which would increase as their skills sharpened. They would learn both a craft as well as the social codes necessary for their future interaction with their French and European bosses and customers. Pilot workshops, moreover, would nurture the young apprentices' love and respect for their trade and, most importantly, would make them feel associated with the French schemes that aimed at developing the economy of the medinas.11

Adapting Education to Industry in the Pilot Workshop in Fez At the time when the Marrakesh committee called into question the effectiveness of its city’s two schools as colonial apparatuses, the Fez Jdid school developed along the lines of a true pilot workshop for the local underclasses. The French authorities created this establishment in 1918 in the centre of an industrial neighbourhood that contained the major European and Moroccan workshops producing building materials for the Fez ville nouvelle as well as traditional items for the Fez medina.12 The unavailability of buildings and funds forced the General Administration of Public Education to annex this vocational school to the primary Franco-Arab school reserved for the children of Moroccan notables. The curriculum consisted of a four-year program. As noted in documents by Warrant Officer T. Courrière, Assistant to the Education Inspector of the Fez Region, the school evolved into a major centre which formed specialised workers for both the Protectorate and France,13 particularly during war time when France required an extra work force, as discussed in Chapter Three. In Chapter Seven we will see how French models shaped the teaching methods of the vocational schools

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4.7

throughout the Protectorate. Here it suffices to note that the stress on drawing offered students the basic knowledge these colonial "modern craftsmen" needed.14 Typically in the first year, students drew uncomplicated geometric forms freehand. In the second year, they learned the use of the compass and ruler. Third year students sketched simple objects from nature before tackling isometric projections. They also began visiting workshops of ma`alams where they familiarised themselves with traditional tools. These sessions helped French instructors identify their artistic tendencies and the crafts they preferred. In the fourth and final year, students toured the Makina factory where they began their training period in woodworking and iron smithing. At this conjecture we should note that Moroccan reforms in the third quarter of the nineteenth century had already established changes in crafts production that foreshadowed later French intervention into Moroccan industries and education. Sultan Moulay al-Hassan I (r. 1873-1894), for example, had understood that to survive in the modern world Morocco needed to create modern industries. He sent young Moroccans on study missions to Europe in order to acquire European technological skills and production methods. When they returned, he created an engineering school attached to the Madrassa of Fez Jdid. In case of war, the Sultan believed, the country had to produce its own arms and ammunition. With that in mind, in 1886, he set up an arms factory near his palace in Fez Jdid and hired Italian officers for its management. The Fassis (inhabitants of Fez) named the factory the "Makina," a Moroccan corruption of the French word

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"machine," and in reference to several imported Italian power mechanised tools set up in the factory. The Italian technical management consisted of an army officer and two mechanics. The staff included Moroccan craftsmen, mainly rifle makers and ironsmiths, whom the Makhzen recruited from different medinas. Labour followed a European schedule with craftsmen working from 8 AM to 12 Noon and from 3 to 6 PM. Up until the establishment of the Protectorate, the Makina produced "powerful" arms "in…good shape," according to Roger Le Tourneau. The factory, however, only produced five rifles a day due, as Le Tourneau explained, to Moroccan workers adapting with difficulty to European work methods.15 At the Makina pilot workshop founded by the French, young Fassis studied woodworking and iron smithing in a three-year program. Practical and utilitarian, education consisted of forming useful craftsmen who manufactured what French designers invented. Teachers did not consider theory and practice of equal value (figs. 4.3-7). Courrière, who in 1918 took charge of the Makina’s management, argued that apprentices did not need theoretical and academic professional training. Such theoretical exercises missed the mark, because they did not serve the French agenda of forming trained workers in a short period of time. Courrière, therefore, advised the Fez Education Inspector that the French authorities should reorganise the school as an industrialised workshop in which students applied directly the techniques they learned to produce functional and marketable objects.16 Courrière consequently conflated education with industry and marketing. He argued that instructors had the primary task of teaching apprentices to obey rules, and not until they had attained sufficient knowledge and dexterity could they invent new designs and forms. The ultimate goal of the school consisted in having their knowledge culminate in pragmatic know-how. They had to obtain skills through observation and imitation. Their hands had to become the tools that executed what their minds had conceived. Conceptions, therefore, could form in their mind through long contemplations of demonstrations of the tasks which their instructors performed. Subsequently, classes emphasised the technical aspects of production. Instructors explained techniques while producing utilitarian objects. In doing so, they translated complex theoretical concepts into accessible step-by-step processes, which the apprentices could assimilate. In tracing and cutting shapes, instructors illustrated their lessons. They simultaneously taught and practiced their trades. And apprentices applied what they had observed. In short, they strove to imitate their teachers, to become their future collaborators in advanced classes. Third year apprentices, in fact, produced parts of the wood furniture or iron items their instructors worked on, and became responsible for and initiated first year

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students into the handling of tools and in completing preliminary exercises. Instructors also taught by supervising and guiding the work of their pupils, pointing out and correcting their mistakes and, in the spirit of partnership, even helped them complete their assignments. After the tiring manual work, students began drawing lessons, which many of them considered "amusing intellectual work."17 Courrière, additionally, recommended that the Makina should become a "beehive" for training and producing workers who would follow and obey the guidance of their French instructors.18 If instructors represented the Makina’s backbone, the director symbolised its "soul." 19 He became at once the beacon of its pedagogy, industrial production, and commercial operations with the outside world. He traced the school's general direction, and executed orders. He imposed tight schedule and served as the officer in charge of the moral conduct of both instructors and apprentices. In addition, he taught drawing and the evening adult classes and managed the treasury. He received commissions, bought the necessary raw materials, and determined the sale prices of the final products. He paid wages to the instructors and daily allowances to the students, and assured a good collaboration between the school and the apprentices' families.20 When Louis Brunot, General Inspector of the Native Education Bureau, called for the industrialisation of the pilot workshop, Courrière transformed the Makina beginning in February 1, 1918 into a semicooperative,21 becoming in effect a trade institution with workshops, raw materials, machinery, disciplined workers, and funding. The 500 francs annual budget allocated by the General Administration of Public Education helped the Makina "produce and prosper." To make the workshop cost effective, or what Michel Foucault has called a "complete and austere institution" with clear "economic self-evidence,"22 instructors M. Vignon and M. Salmand began, under the encouraging words of Courrière, to sell in local markets the furniture and iron objects their apprentices manufactured. They established, in addition, connections with Moroccan and European business owners who needed their machines or tools repaired. This initiative allowed Courrière to pay the salaries of the director, the instructors, and the wages of apprentices from the workshop profits. By the end of February of the same year, he paid the instructors 1 franc per day and the apprentices 0,50 franc, which their families welcomed as extra income. A month later wages doubled, allowances increased by 50 % percent, and the Makina had in its treasury 200 francs in money and in kind. Two months later, on April 1, 1918, a local company also named "la Makina" endorsed the pilot workshop and became its financial sponsor.23 First year students, soon after, received between 0.25 and 1 franc and second and third year students between 1

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and 2 francs. The instructors' salaries quadrupled to 8 francs, in addition to a profit related bonus, and Courrière distributed the surplus profit as follows: 1/2 for the instructors, 1/4 for the apprentices, and another 1/4 for the maintenance of the school and the acquisition of supplies and materials. Courrière proudly compared his duty of restructuring the Makina to "the moral task" a French soldier might experience on the war front, and haled his success as the "satisfaction one feels after accomplishing his duty."24 The Makina adopted its education to the local environment, and in doing so, produced items needed by the building trade in the ville nouvelle as well as by Moroccans in the medina. The wood working workshops manufactured doors, windows, cupboards, chairs, and pulleys. The iron smithing workshop forged plough stands, doors hinges, keys, as well as nuts and bolts. French instructors taught their Moroccan apprentices that, as active members of their community, they performed a service to their co-citizens by manufacturing utilitarian objects which they needed.

Educating a New Bureaucracy When the Makina pilot workshop in Fez gained, a few years after its creation, a solid reputation as a factory with reliable workers, apprentices, however, began seeking jobs in nearby industries before graduation. In 1923, Paul Marty, an official at the Residency Bureau of Native Affairs before becoming Director of the Fez Moulay Idriss High School created for the children of the Muslim aristocracy, and whom Lyautey called a man "worthy of delicate missions,"25 inspected this predicament. He concluded in his report that the Makina had both an "honourable" and "detrimental" purpose. Honourable, because it underlined the fact that apprentices received sound instruction and, hence, validated French claims regarding the positive reforms of Moroccan education; detrimental because, by seeking employment at an early stage, the apprentices escaped French surveillance.26 In an attempt to find a solution to the problem, Marty couched colonial exploitation in humanitarian vocabulary. He demanded that a French official should head the Fez education inspection department. This inspector should supervise the entire enterprise undertaken in the Makina, though with the coordination of French and Moroccan authorities. Marty, in fact, drew up a comprehensive plan to transform the pilot workshop into a vehicle of colonial control in order to gain access and supervise craft workshops in the medina. Unlike the Marrakesh committee, Marty emphasised that the Makina should exploit the fact that it issued a certificate to apprentices after com-

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pleting their training. As noted in the previous chapter, the Protectorate introduced new behaviours and aspirations among Moroccans. To many students from poor families, a school diploma meant that they had completed the required theoretical and practical training that guaranteed them to find jobs. They held the document as a sign of a new power that legitimised their claim to have better lives. For Marty the endorsement issued by the Makina would have two functions. It placated these trained Moroccans by fulfilling their psychological need, allowing them to display a material testimony of their craft skills which, in turn, would prove to their co-citizens that they had evolved. On the other hand, it enhanced French influence in the medina's workshops thanks to its graduates, who had assimilated French techniques. These remarks led Marty to conclude that only by ameliorating the Makina’s image, by projecting its humanitarian social deeds among Moroccans, could it harness the mandatory local support. Moreover, he ordered a cafeteria installed in the pilot workshop so that students could "enjoy" a hot meal that had to "always include meat, vegetables, and bread."27 With the help of apprentices, the instructors created a rabbit hutch, pigeon house, henhouse, beehive, and vegetable garden in the courtyard, hence making the cafeteria's menu more diversified.28 Lunching at the Makina limited the students' travel to and from their homes from four times a day, to half an hour in the morning and half an hour in the evening at most. To impose hygiene, Marty also had showers built, and apprentices bathed every Saturday. The additional time they spent in the cafeteria and in other activities increased their contact with the personnel and taught them French manners of socialisation. By then Marty prompted the Moroccan Municipal Majliss (Council) to pay the total sum of the allowances due the apprentices, therefore increasing savings for the Makina’s treasury. Marty devoted a long passage of his report to the role and concept of propaganda in the future development of the pilot workshop. He advised the director to keep this Protectorate establishment visible to the Moroccan population, and to encourage students from the medina’s grammar school to periodically visit the Maknina. He recommended that the staff organise these excursions in collaboration with the Municipal Majliss and the French and Moroccan joint Chamber of Commerce and Agriculture. Through such mutual efforts, the French would succeed in diffusing new concepts from within the Moroccan administrations by demonstrating to their members the efficiency of French superior methods. The Makina's director, the General commanding the Fez military region, and the Municipality Chief, all encouraged Moroccan dignitaries to visit the school, solicited their financial contributions, and asked them to help recruit new students. The program proposed by Marty also aimed at influencing the young apprentices already employed in the traditional workshops. Members from

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the Chamber and from the Craft Office created an Advisory Committee which sponsored the Makina and offered advice. The committee placed graduate students in these workshops, and convinced Moroccan reputed carpenters, cabinet-makers, ironsmiths, masons, shoemakers, tanners, and weavers, to allow their apprentices and assistants to attend voluntarily an open workshop at the Makina every evening for one hour, during which time French instructors taught them drawing, arithmetic, and technical skills. Volunteers were also invited to spend one whole day a month at the pilot workshop "to complete" their traditional training by "watching closely the European workmanship." These classes reached the second half of the medina's handicraft work force that remained untouched by the Makina. Marty's recommendations also initiated the creation of a second body of influence. The Craft Office, we might recall, included a dozen notable Fassi master craftsmen known to have expressed enthusiasm for the French reforms. Under Marty's advice, they helped the young apprentices choose a craft and hired them once they graduated.29 In keeping with Brunot's orders, Marty stressed that the Makina should not accept commissions from the Moroccan public. Its true goal consisted of training workers who knew how to handle "the behaviour of electrical machines" but, on occasions, it produced furniture for the Fez Franco-Arab grammar and high schools. The Makina increased the interest of the apprentices in practical lessons by introducing them to new equipments, including typewriters and sewing machines, items cheaply available in the medina's flea markets. When the General commanding the Fez Military Region offered the Makina a broken and unrepairable automobile, the director and an instructor converted it into a large curiosity vessel that had the power to excite the imagination of the young apprentices. The Makina also organised weekly visits to factories and different workshops in order to familiarise students with potential future job sites.30 Marty also encouraged the neighbouring grammar school to increase its pre-training craft programs from three hours a week to one hour a day. In this school, students who showed talent and a natural vocation for crafts could skip the daily one-hour lesson of history, geography, or writing and join the drawing class. Marty considered this special division an "automatic nursery" that would guarantee a regular enrolment for the Makina. The General Administration of Public Education at a later stage enlarged this formula to include young students from the nearby msids (Koranic schools) as well as from the neighbourhood's unschooled children.31 In Chapter Eight, we will investigate how, in order to assure enrolment in the vocational schools, the Service of Youth and Sport created special workshops in which French women educators introduced illiterate Moroccan children to drawing and painting with the hope that they, too, would chose a craft profession.

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For Brunot, the General Administration of Public Administration and Civil Controllers had to decide, alone, curriculum and recruitment, not only for the Makina but also for the entire vocational school system. Both knew best the political as well as the economic needs of each region. In the mid-1920s, because more than half the total of the apprentices in the vocational schools throughout Morocco had reached 13 years or older--a third of whom were 11 to 12, and those younger than 11 were a minority-Brunot gave his order to especially recruit younger children of around 6. He pointed out that it was at this age that Moroccan fathers entrusted their children to ma`alams, and declared that the General Administration had to get hold of this "crucial asset before the ma`alams did." The resulting change in student ages required a more flexible curriculum. Brunot, subsequently, allowed the youngest who could not handle the physical demands of the workshops to spend two thirds of their school time in general courses, and a third in "toilsome labour."32 For the schools to survive and complete their mission they needed a stable enrolment. Always aware of this fact, Brunot recommended a general revision of the teaching methods, urging that recruited apprentices had to fulfil standard requirements and had to have a moral commitment to the schools.33 By 1927, of 684 second year apprentices in the Protectorate's vocational schools, 491 were twelve years of age or older. This same year, 400 of the older apprentices "vanished" into the medinas’ economy to help support their families. This sudden disappearance created a void in the student body and disrupted the plans the French tailored for the Moroccan trade industries. Brunot, as a result, charged the directors and inspectors to guarantee that the French pledge to educate the Moroccan masses should have lasting results. In order for the schools to meet their enrolment goals, Brunot ordered their administrations to refrain from educating any children who showed any signs of quitting, and only accept those who displayed their willingness to commit themselves to spend between four and five years in the schools.34 Records of the schools offer us an insight into problems of a different kind that threatened these institutions at this early stage of their development and the manner in which French authorities solved them. In the same year, 1927, the 770 new apprentices recruited --the highest number of recruits during the first twenty years-- were eleven years or older, a fact that transformed classes into an incongruous mixture of moustached adolescents and young children. This situation presented the General Inspection with a "dilemma" which, as Brunot put it, required "moral reflection." He feared that parents of younger students would object to such age disparities, fearing that the schools would become "the breeding grounds of promiscuity." He deduced that each adolescent a schools recruited kept at least four minors from enrolling. To help alleviate the

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concerns of hesitant fathers, he lowered the average age of students in each grade.35 To this end, Brunot ordered, during this same year, the introduction of statistic graphs in the vocational schools for the first time. The graphs provided data about admissions, duration of stays, and progress apprentices made. Contrary to Brunot's claims, I would suggest that such graphs supplied the schools with new ways of formulating judgment about the apprentices’ performance and how much the school could expect from them. The graphs assisted the General Inspection to determine the relationship between the administrations of the schools and the students, or to borrow another expression from Foucault, they underpinned them "in perfect visibility,"36 making them easily controllable. In reality, the graphs included every information possible. In them, Brunot mandated that instructors had to count and recount their students, to continuously classify them by grade and by age, since "these happy native mortals ignore[d] even the date of their birth."37 Updated every year, the graphs indicated the name and age of the students, the date of their enrolment, the number of years they had spent at the school, and the instructors’ observations regarding attendance and behaviour. From the graphs, the Inspection decided if the "situation was normal or not," and formulated "not only opinions but certainties." Similarly the graphs carried the "strong proof" the administrations needed in deciding the type of apprentices they should recruit, keep, or eliminate.38

A Moroccan Alternative The previous sections explored how the Protectorate authorities created vocational schools through the combined efforts of different French organisms. Our attention now turns to the Moroccan advocates of French mass education. One of the central arguments in this book asserts that the Moroccan Makhzen and aristocracy supported the French educational project because, as I noted above, it correlated with their own social aspirations. Many Moroccan officials expressed this position on many occasions. The Sultan’s Advisor, the Moroccan Makhzen, and the Committee of Economic Studies all agreed with the French educational reforms since their inception. Loth, the first General Director of Public Education, underlined this collaboration in terms of the open mindedness of the Moroccans, pointing out that they proved to have a curiosity which both the Algerians and Tunisians lacked. He noted that during the 1915 Franco-Moroccan Exposition held in Casablanca, Grand Vizier M. Guabbas and a number of his secretaries, including Bou Chaïb Doukkali and M. al-Ja`i, expressed their "heartfelt

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sentiments" toward the early attempts made by the General Administration of Public Education in creating vocational trade schools for the masses who, otherwise, would have remained a social class "without any value".39 Let us recall a few other instances. The Moroccan Arabic press also commended these French deeds. Al-Sa`ada newspaper, for example, extolled the French modernisation of education as well as Lyautey's first "efforts" to build prototype schools, which consisted of simple and "improvised wooden sheds." The newspaper emphasised that the schools sought to instil in Moroccans three important principles, those of education, physical fitness, and hygiene. The schools, additionally, according to the newspaper, fulfilled a moral duty and constituted, above all, an "antidote" to the vagrancy that befell Moroccan children.40 Idhar al-Haq, another newspaper, equated education with progress and, thus, attempted to mobilise the local population to support the project, which the newspaper depicted as an honourable enterprise that would "enlighten" the minds of the Moroccan poor by teaching them "modern skills." Idhar al-Haq also condemned idle wandering as an evil that spread deleterious behaviours, and called on parents to meet the challenges of the modern age by enrolling their children in these schools, warning them that failing to do so would make them "accountable to their Lord in the Last Judgment."41 Moroccan members of the Advisory Committees also shared these sentiments of profound elation. As noted above, the Protectorate Administration created the Craft Office in 1922. In cities with vocational schools, members representing the General Administration as well as French and Moroccan local authorities and business elites formed Advisory Committees of these educational institutions. George Hardy, the second General Director of Public Education, allowed each committee to decide its bylaws as it saw fit. He did not fail, however, to stress uniformity. Most and foremost, he defined the committees as a surveillance apparatus that kept a tight watch over the schools and their members, and communicated their concerns to the General Administration in written reports. They, moreover, guided the schools based on the economic needs of each city and region, and found jobs for graduate apprentices. They encouraged attendance by rewarding diligent students with books, and assisted poor families by offering them furniture, clothes, shoes, and sometime food.42 All the members of the Advisory Committee of the `Akkari School in Rabat, as a case in point, had volunteered. They received subsidies from the Protectorate Administration, from private Moroccan and French donors, and held cultural events to raise additional money. With these funds they bought supplies, including books, maps, paper, notebooks, and

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chalkboards, and collected clothes which they distributed to students.43 The committee, under the presidency of Grand Vizier al-Moqri, comprised founding members and subscribers. Members paid 100 francs a year and subscribers a 50 francs annual fee; and the names of both parties hanged on a panel in the school’s administration office. The committee's Board of Administration included the Pasha of Rabat as president and Commander Bénazert, the Municipal Chief. M. Neigel, director of Moulay Youssef High School for the children of the Moroccan aristocracy, represented the General Administration of Public Education. Renée Bazet, director of the vocational school for women (see the following chapter) served as secretary.44 M. Finatau, director of the `Akkari School, occupied the post of treasurer. The committee met at least four times a year and decided the best way to use the collected money, saving the balance in a Rabat Bank.45 An Advisory Committee, as Hardy defined it, stemmed from a "moral collaboration" between French and the Moroccans who believed in the altruistic goal of vocational education. In this spirit, contributions made by the committee’s members alleviated the Protectorate’s financial burden of paying additional charges.46 Similarly, members of the Marrakesh committee, created in 1932 in the wake of the Great Depression, had the conviction that they had to assist morally and materially the Casbah and Sidi Bel `Abbas schools which "contained in principle an educational formula" that better conformed to the actual needs of the city and had to help the children of the masses "whom we have the mission to guide in this modern predicament."47 Following the Great Depression, unemployment spiralled in the country, created havoc, and increased the number of children roaming the Marrakesh streets looking for sustenance. The committee argued that only professional formations could solve the growing problem of vagrancy. It reiterated earlier claims made by French and European industrialists and entrepreneurs that Moroccan workers lacked French work ethics. Both the French and Moroccan members shared a common belief that children from poor families had a "natural tendency toward indolence," that they "ignored all that is adroit, precise, regular, and punctual," and that "adroitness, dexterity, and swiftness in execution, and all that was crucial to a real professional formation, technical as well as moral, have become a rarity."48 Only vocational schools could supply these moral values and technical skills. However, before giving the Moroccan apprentices a technical formation, namely "a lasting training of the eye that did not yet know how to see, and of the hand that did not yet know how to measure," the committee had to first ensure school attendance.49 Its members helped recruit young apprentices and encouraged them to remain in school by offering

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them material rewards, which the school could not cover. In doing so, the committee sought the assistance of the Municipality to pay for a daily snack of bread and tea, a work uniform, and an additional gift during the `Ayd al-Kebir (feast of sacrifice), consisting of a pair of balgha and a jallaba (traditional Moroccan shoes and a man’s hooded cloak). After graduation, students also received a toolbox for their trade as a prize. These material advantages, the committee’s members thought, would help the moral commitment of the apprentices by increasing their devotion to their training. Such efforts contributed to stabilising the number of recruits.50 Because the Marrakesh Advisory Committee played a constructive role, the French authorities allowed it to take additional initiatives. The committee formulated its own ideas about what its members thought as the true nature of vocational education. They proclaimed that by ameliorating le living conditions of the apprentices, the school would "spark in them moral principles."51 This position had two effects on parents who saw the school both as an educational institution and a charitable organisation. Tea and bread, a traditional snack very much in vogue among Moroccan wage earners on different job sites, cost the committee an annual budget of 1,500 francs. Poor students welcomed this meal. At the same time, the snack had a positive effect on the school, for it helped boost enrolment and became for the French authorities the means with which they attracted the most destitute population of the medinas to mass education.52 The French declined to take over the management of the committee entirely, claiming that they refused to be the judge and the party at the same time.53 They justified that the collaboration between the French authorities and Moroccan craftsmen strove to keep the "vital equilibrium"54 between the protector and the protected. The committee also encouraged European industrialists, capitalists, and entrepreneurs in Marrakesh to hire the school's graduates for they were "no less and no more demanding" than other European workers. These young workers, the committee explained, "have assimilated their lessons" and, thanks to the general training they received and the guidance of their French employers, they would soon become "veritable workers" who, because they "understood that times were hard, would trust that their employers would pay them according to their dexterity."55 Unlike other advisory committees in other cities, Moroccans in Casablanca created a charitable society in 1927 solely under their own initiative. In his 1929 report to the Resident General, Jean Rabaud, the Casablanca Municipality Chief attested that this society included Moroccan notables only and fought "discreetly, but unremittingly, a veritable invasion by professional beggars"56 who had "assaulted" the city between 1926 and 1927. Following the 1925-1926 drought that struck

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the hinterland south of Casablanca, many Moroccans solicited "European charity" in the ville nouvelle. Rabaud, nevertheless, took the opportunity to warn Europeans not to let these panhandlers exploit their sensibilities. Experts, he explained, they targeted the emotions of their audience by carrying babies and dragging by their side children whom they, in many instances, "rented" from destitute parents. The number of such minors in the ville nouvelle increased to about sixty. Encouraged by the Pasha M. Abdelouahad, by Taib al-Moqri, the brother of the Grand Vizier, and by a group of local Moroccan notables the society created both a shelter and a vocational school.57 The Municipality assisted the society in its charitable task and put at its disposition a ventilated and sunlit funduq (shelter) in which in three consecutive years, from 1927-1929, the society cared for eighty-four beggars, blind people, and poverty-stricken Moroccans, all of whom they segregated according to their gender, age, and ability to work. The society sent women back to their families, while the blind and those physically impaired did not have to fulfill any tasks. It helped able-bodied adults find jobs in building construction in the ville nouvelle, and these received food and housing at the funduq.58 What began as a philanthropic action, however, soon became a mission that disciplined and trained the down and out and unruly to become serviceable and productive. This Moroccan society appropriated the same means of classification and discrimination as did the General Administration of Public Education. It relocated a large number of children with their families back to their local regions and, in an attempt not to allow for "contamination," it isolated the insubordinate from those who worked. At a later date, those whom life had hardened until they had "lost voluntary discipline" and had become unyielding, learned mat and basket weaving from ma`alams. The centre then sold these manufactured products to the public, bringing in additional income. Children, less "corrupted by misery and vice," found shelter in another funduq near the industrial school, Ferme Blanche, which they later enrolled in as students. In the evening they returned to the shelter where an `arifa (a Moroccan headmistress) cared for and supervised them.59 In eighteen months, these children learned reading, writing, calculating, and drawing. Instructors judged that half of them became excellent apprentices. Excellent meant that they fit the profile of "docile," "mannerly," "disciplined" and, above all, "expressed satisfaction with their new life." It also meant that they could follow the instructions of their tutors. In short order, the apprentices moved to a new and larger building in the Darb Sidna neighbourhood, built for this purpose. This edifice soon developed into a credible vocational school. The society transferred the shelter for the "unruly" to a different location on Madiouna Avenue near

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the entrance of the medina, keeping the ville nouvelle unadulterated. At a later stage, the society began the second phase of its initial plan, and created a similar project for Moroccan girls. Casablanca, thanks to the intervention of its Moroccan notables, as a result, became the first city in the Protectorate that had separate charitable bodies for Moroccan boys and girls, which, as Rabaud pointed out, rescued abandoned children and "moulded them into useful workers and honest citizens."60 Moroccan notables believed in these reforms, but unbeknown to them, their actions actually fortified the policies of French authorities. When the society expanded its tasks, its members solicited the technical assistance of the French Municipality administration. The society's offices of treasurer and secretary, eventually, switched to the hands of the Municipal tax collector and translator. The Moroccan members explained that efficient financial management by the French of these two offices would convince their fellow Moroccans of the seriousness of their social mission. The French welcomed the invitation, for it allowed the Municipality Chief "to exercise a lasting influence on the activities of the society."61 Of the nine Moroccan members, the Municipality nominated Ali el Kayraouani, a powerful notable and the society's treasurer, to receive the Protectorate medallion, for having a "rare willingness" to intervene in the Moroccan milieu, shake the indifference his fellow Moroccans expressed towards the ideal of the society, collect gifts for the apprentices, and increase membership. The Municipality, similarly, nominated Desiré Bayloc, the translator at the Municipality, Rabaud's own deputy, and now the secretary of the society, in appreciation for his "apostolic commitment," and his "modest and discreet intelligence" to the French cause.62 If the organisational scheme of the Marrakesh and the Fez vocational schools reinforced spatial and social segregation between the Moroccans and the French and among Moroccans themselves, they, however, did not constitute a fixed model for the Protectorate system of mass education. Exceptions existed. For instance, the vocational school created in the town of Mazagan (now El Jedida) grouped together in a single vicinity and under a single director both a school for the children of notables and a vocational school for the children from poor families. Dignitaries and destitute children studied side by side. Only eighteen years later, in 1930, did the General Administration of Public Education set up a separate division for vocational trades. We should also observe that not all vocational schools catered to the masses, nor did the French authorities consider the curriculum as sacred. M. Flushy and M. Montagnac, the inspector and director of the Mazagan school, encouraged children of the rich to enrol in the vocational division. They kept in attendance those who showed signs of deserting the school by allowing them to take extra hours of Arabic instead of drawing or workshop courses they disliked. However, soon the

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school abandoned its vocational character altogether. Mazagan, then an agricultural centre, lacked traditional industry. Instead of forming ironsmiths and carpenters and other craft workers, Flushy and Montagnac complied with the precept that a vocational school had to meet the needs of the local environment. They eventually changed the course of their school and began training mechanics who specialised in repairing tractors and agricultural machinery for French farmers.63 Part one of this book focused on French scholarship of Moroccan crafts and underscored the main stages of guild reforms, which the French authorities implemented and with which they reconceptualised traditional industries and replaced the links Moroccan craftsmen had within their economic sector with French agents. The reforms involved both French administrators and Makhzen officials. The French increased their colonial scheme of exploitation by creating vocational schools, thus assimilating Moroccans into their work ethics. The pedagogical stratagem relied on "objective" charts and graphs which further harnessed the economy of the medinas under the guise of humanitarian assistance. Trained Moroccan male apprentices espoused French methods of production and facilitated, often without their knowledge, colonial hegemony. The following chapter analyses how the French created vocational schools for Moroccan women in order to access their feminine milieu as well.

CHAPTER FIVE: WOMEN'S VOCATIONAL SCHOOLS: THE FRENCH ORGANISE THE FEMININE MILIEU The reforms of traditional craft industries and mass education undertaken by the Protectorate Administration in Morocco implicated both French and Moroccan men and women. Yet most studies of change during this period have sidestepped the role women performed as executors of transformation and implementers of colonial ideology, despite the fact that they structured craft education to inculcate French ideas in their Moroccan counterpart from all social classes. Prominent among these educators were Louise Bouillot, Rene Bazet, and A. Bel who created the first vocational schools for Moroccan women in Salé, Rabat, and Fez, respectively. With support from their French superiors and the Moroccan aristocracy, they effectively conspired to shape this mass education along colonial ideology

The Covert Purpose of Women's Vocational Schools Vocational schools the Protectorate Administration created for Moroccan women preceded those for men. In 1913 the General Administration of Public Education recruited Louise Bouillot, a twenty-six year old graduate of the Paris Oriental Language School. She had to start the first model school for women through which the French authorities could come in contact with and influence the local feminine milieu. Given the traditional segregation of the sexes, the task proved quite daunting. The General Administration depicted this mission as humanitarian just as it would later do for the men’s vocational schools (see the preceding chapter). Soon after arriving at her post, Bouillot advised the authorities to advertise these workshops as places where Moroccan girls and women would learn to manage their homes and produce crafts, which would improve their financial conditions.1 The slogan she used, "evolution and not revolution,"2 reflected Hubert Lyautey's "native policy." She postulated that, because Moroccan men were conservative, they would refuse any sudden changes in the roles and the behaviours of their wives and daughters. Taking cog-

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nizance of the traditional social structure of the Moroccan family, she argued that a Moroccan woman should remain "the soul of her household," and cautioned that education should "not alter her mentality."3 Bouillot summarised her mission as consisting of three principles. It had to overcome "moral obstacles," embedded in Moroccan traditional values. It had to help Moroccan bourgeois women better ran their homes. And it had to teach lower class women crafts so that they could earn a living wage. The French in Tunisia had already done this. On a number of occasions Bouillot reminded her superiors at the General Administration that vocational schools for women represented a first step before the French could establish modern education.4 These schools, she explained, should have an operative goal and should be designed to help Moroccan women develop new, but limited, practical skills. Women from the aristocracy should not become liberated and freely educated like their "civilised sisters" in Europe. They should receive, instead, training in home management. Destitute women, on the other hand, should attend the schools where they could train in crafts and later bring in an income, contributing to their family’s earnings and gaining a degree of financial independence from their husbands.5 Before assuming her job Bouillot undertook, as an initial step, a study of Moroccan women, their milieu, and the crafts they practiced. In an inquiry dating from 1913, she outlined the moral status of bourgeoisie women in Salé, their disposition toward the proposed schools, and what the French authorities could expect from them. She noted that in this city, as in other parts of the country, Islamic tradition governed women's existence. They lived in isolation, unaware of anything outside of their homes. Their practical know-how with regard to the management of their household and the practice of their crafts comprised what their mothers had transmitted to them. Intellectual knowledge simply did not exist, irrespective of their rank and aptitude. Compared to their French counterparts, Slawi women (women from Salé) "all live[d] equal in their deep ignorance" and differed little from "young children desiring distraction."6 Bouillot subsequently strategised that she only needed to entertain and amuse them in order to win their trust and allegiance to the French cause. Lieutenant Marion, the Chief of the Salé Municipality, paved the way for Bouillot's mission. He contacted the heads of the notable families in the medina and accompanied her on visits to their homes. Bouillot conceived these inspections as having a "moral utility."7 She acknowledged that her escorts, a high French official and one or more representatives of the Slawi aristocracy, secured her access to most families. Those Bouillot met had daughters studying in embroidery workshops. Winning

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the trust of the mothers enabled her to have further contact with the ma`almat (singular of ma`alma; female master and instructor of crafts) running the workshops and their students. Slawi women showed no hostility toward her and, instead, "displayed congeniality in receiving even their enemies."8 Bouillot understood from the start that having benefited from their good graces, she needed to take precautions not to awaken their suspicions over her true intentions. The women accepted her as one "who has Islam in her heart," and she acted as a young moral Christian woman who loved their culture and hoped to assimilate several of its aspects. In fact, she went to them as "a simple guest who wished only to be taught by them, not to teach them."9 She strove, at this early stage, to remain inconspicuous, to get, as it were, under the skin of her hostesses, refraining from focusing her discussions with them on any serious subjects, though when occasion allowed she expressed the superiority French women had in matters of home management and hygiene. In so doing, she aimed toward awakening their curiosity so that they would begin to ask her for advice and assimilate her recommendations. In other words, Bouillot had to bewilder them, not refute or discredit their long established ways of doing things.

The Class Base of Craft Education Slawi women practiced crafts including embroidery, lace-work, and weaving, but irregularly. They rarely sold the artefacts they manufactured, unaware of their financial market value, and used the proceeds to buy jewellery and clothes for their personal use. They decided the sale price by deducting the price of the raw materials and estimated their labour cost based either on the size of the object or the time it took them to produce it. One example suffices to explain this. The price of a hand made Shabka (a piece of lace work) varied during the early years of the Protectorate depending on the number of knots used in its width. A Shabka of three, four, or six knots called for a great deal of time to make, thus increasing its price two or three fold. Such observation allowed Bouillot to deduce that women could gain real economic dividends from regulating their labour throughout the country where, as she pointed out, female industry still had "all its pre-industrial authenticity."10 This was quite an important aspect of the feminine craft production and, as we shall see below, Bouillot, Bazet, and Bel helped Moroccan women become aware of their labour capital. In pre-Protectorate Morocco, before 1912, and until the arrival of Bouillot a year after France imposed its rule, training in women's crafts in

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the medinas involved two major branches, embroidery and weaving, which also comprised the manufacturing of high quality carpets. Poor women engaged in other crafts, including pottery making, or assisted their husbands with other handicraft productions. Only a small number of bourgeois women practiced embroidery, considering it a decorative craft.11 It was a slow and laborious process, and the final product sold at high prices. Cheaper European, mass fabricated garments pushed embroidery to the verge of extinction, a fact which, Bouillot observed, required a commitment from the Protectorate Administration to save. She explained to Slawi women the importance of buying locally embroidered apparel by introducing the concept of the "antique." She elevated local hand made textiles and garments from the purely utilitarian realm to aesthetic artefacts. She defined her duty as residing, essentially, in introducing value judgment derived from a capitalist mode of production to one that still had pre-capitalist characteristics. She persuaded Slawi women that their needlework conformed better to their cultural milieu and, above all, lasted longer. She impressed upon them that even when no longer in use, hand made items always retained a symbolic value that represented an aspect of their traditional culture. Bouillot believed that the Protectorate Administration and French women who would manage future vocational schools had a moral duty to protect these crafts.12 French archives preserve relatively few scattered records pertaining to the women’s vocational schools. They do, nevertheless, reveal the methods the French authorities employed to gain access into the Moroccan feminine domain. Several records from the first contact between the French and Moroccan women have survived. The Vice Consul from the French Consulate in Rabat advised Lyautey to encourage any "private initiative especially when taken by a Muslim woman" such as ma`alma Slimana. This woman master of embroidery taught young girls from the Salé aristocracy in a private workshop in her home.13 The French authorities chose her workshop and others, located in the heart of the medina, as a base for Bouillot’s mission. At her house, at Bab Houssine, a neighbourhood near the Franco-Arab school frequented by the Moroccan notable male children, Slimana gathered daily an average of thirty girls whose age varied between six and twelve. Parents did not pay Slimana, but sent her gifts during religious holidays, which allowed her to live comfortably. When Bouillot began visiting the families, Lieutenant Marion reported to the Vice-Consul that the landlord had informed Slimana that in a month her rent would increase threefold. Marion warned that moving Slimana away from this strategic location in the heart of the medina might jeopardise the French plans.14 Marion, therefore, advised the Vice Consul not to let crafts produced by women disappear for "aesthetic" as well as "economic" reasons.

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Aesthetic, because the crafts, as Bouillot pointed out, had "artistic" characteristics proper to the Moroccan culture and, for this reason, deserved protection. Economic, because in saving and commodifying them through vocational schools, the French would help local women contribute to the economy of their home, thereby making the medina less dependant on French assistance. To accomplish this, Marion requested that Gaston Loth, the first General Director of Public Education, expedite Bouillot's operation. He also sought the assistance of the Makhzen to transfer the Bab Houssine Franco-Arab school from Dar Moulay `Abbas Kartous to another building at Dar ben `Attar, and to move Slimana to the former where the cost of rent would be shared by the General Administration of Public Education and the Municipality. Saving such a vital school from disappearing represented only the first step. By encouraging the Vice Consul to adopt his propositions, Marion asserted that this plan would, at a later step, progressively ensure for the French the right to alter the teaching methods of these workshops, to ameliorate their management, and control their craft production. He asked the Vice Consul to transmit his request to Loth to intervene with the Makhzen to facilitate the relocation of Slimana to her new workshop.15

Women's Craft Training in Pre-Protectorate Morocco In its organisation and teaching methods, Slimana's workshop epitomised women's craft apprenticeship in the pre-Protectorate period. It was customary to find a number of ma`almat teaching their craft in their homes to several young girls. There are no records in the archives that indicate these workshops constituted formal guilds. However, as noted above, clear distinctions of crafts practiced by women based on class prevailed. Training in Salé, as in the rest of the country resembled, in a nutshell, the teaching methods applied in the msids (Koranic schools). Slimana's thirty apprentices sat on a single mat in a dark and badly ventilated room, working from morning until evening. Most apprentices remained immobile and silent, except during lunchtime and, as a result, developed bent bodies and strained necks. They also suffered from inflammation of the eyelids caused by the habit of rubbing their eyes with dirty hands. Recreation did not exist. An apprentice, on occasions, had time to relax when the ma`alma asked her to help with household chores. The workshop lacked both order and cleanliness, two aspects that concerned Bouillot

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highly.16 Parents entrusted their daughters to the care of the ma`alma at a young age between five and thirteen. An apprentice spent a long period of time following with her eyes the work of her older classmates. When the ma’alma considered an apprentice old enough, she gave her small tasks, including tethering the wool and spinning threads, before taking up a needle in her hand and executing a particular series of simple exercises. When she completed a whole piece on her own, her family organised a small celebration and proclaimed her a ma`alma. Young ma`almat from the middle and lower class took advantage of this title and taught younger girls in their own homes. Rich ma`almat produced their own costumes and other objects needed by their families. In either case, haphazardness characterised women's craft productions. The ma`alma and her assistants depended on gifts from families, and apprentices bought their own supplies and did not feel obliged to attend regularly. Slawi apprentices, however, Bouillot noted with interest, seemed to be enthusiastic and missed school only during family ceremonies, religious festivities, and on Friday, a holiday for Moroccan Muslims.17 The ma`alma acted as an instructor and a baby sitter. To save the girls a midday trip home, she encouraged them to bring lunch and an afternoon snack. At the end of the days, she authorised those who lived farther away to leave earlier. Before departing the workshop definitely, many senior apprentices desired to finish certain works and consequently needed more advice. The ma’alma accommodated them by allowing them to spend the night at the workshop. Doing so transformed her role from that of an instructor and baby sitter into that of an older sister, if not a surrogate mother.18

A Subtle Infiltration After meeting the families of Slimana’s apprentices, Bouillot began studying with the ma`alma with the intention of modifying, in due time, the course of her workshop.19 Though "not a model workshop"20 neither in term of internal structure nor training methods, Slimana’s gained the reputation among the medina’s families as the best managed and cared for workshop. It also had more apprentices than all others. Bouillot spent one to two hours a day studying the ma`alma’s embroidery technique, gradually winning her confidence. At this early stage, Bouillot refrained from becoming involved in the teaching procedures per se and limited her role to advising the young

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apprentices to show more assiduity. Such "practical advice" pleased Slimana and soon she began consulting with her "new friend."21 Bouillot’s reorganisation of Slimana's workshop consisted, primarily, in the reconfiguration of the space, in introducing new work habits, and in explaining to both the ma`alma and the apprentices the benefits of hygiene. Bouillot interpreted the spatial reordering as an "altruistic deed,"22 a "considerable step" that would help win the esteem of the aristocratic families, because they would recognise her efficiency.23 She knew that she should not express her plan in the form of orders, but as constructive propositions that, nevertheless, demonstrated to both Slimana and the families that they could not do without them for they had an "imperative" urgency.24 To increase zeal among the apprentices, for instance, Bouillot, in a "caring gesture," distributed silk threads to those who ran out of these materials in order "to teach them not to lose time in idleness."25 After frequenting the workshop for three months on a daily basis, she introduced Lieutenant Marion to Slimana as a prospective financial sponsor. This manoeuvre underscored Bouillot's main objective of having access to the feminine milieu: to introduce French methods of management so that Slimana and the families "would place themselves, by necessity, under [her] French guardianship," because they would have realised that her intervention would "help them evolve." Bouillot knew that she could only gain the trust of the families by "never awakening their defiance."26 The families’ confidence also enabled Slimana's reputation to remain intact in spite of local "rumours of jealousy," which claimed that the young Muslim girls in her workshop no longer embroidered as they did before the arrival of the "roumiya," (Christian woman) and, subsequently, ran the risk of having both their craft and their morality corrupted. Families in other neighbourhoods soon felt the benefits of Bouillot's actions. `Asria, a renowned Slawi embroidery ma`alma, also began restructuring her workshop on Slimana's model, creating a rivalry between the two. When parents retrieved their daughter from Slimana`s workshop and enrolled her in `Asria`s because they feared that the "rumours" of corruption might have been true, Bouillot refused to return to them their daughter's unfinished embroidery project despite "a large sum of money" they offered her. The heightened competition between the two workshops caused Bouillot to worry that Slimana’s innovative stitching methods might fall into the hands of her adversary and other workshops, which she still had not accessed.27 Bouillot also calculated that assisting Slimana would ultimately lead her to modify the artefacts produced in her workshop to meet

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market demands. Bouillot, therefore, postulated that a technical innovation would facilitate the sale of the artefacts and would, eventually, require strict monitoring. Surveillance and work regulations also convinced the ma`alma that she could not fulfil on her own the market demands and private commissions without the help of vigorously trained assistants. Bouillot chose them from among the most talented senior students who agreed to work for a wage. She viewed them not as "amateurs" but as future professional workers who would manufacture a certain number of items and follow her firm instructions.28 This strategy resulted in a new labour hierarchisation and a rigid separation between the ma`alma, workers, and apprentices. Each of them had a specific role to carry out. The introduction of this new managerial plan entailed, as already noted, a reorganisation of the work space. On December 1, 1913, Bouillot moved Slimana to Dar Moulay `Abbas Kartous, a house which the Makhzen owned and relinquished to the Municipality for this purpose. The new building included three rooms opening onto a large square courtyard and a fourth room located on the second floor. Bouillot ordered the edifice cleaned and whitewashed and, in general, kept the previous organisation of the family home-workshop. The ma`alma and her family occupied two of the rooms. Bouillot had senior apprentices, who substituted for the aging Slimana during the long practical sessions she could no longer endure, to live in the house.29 The workshop measured 7.65 metres in length, 2.65 in width and 4.25 in height, a relatively sufficient space to accommodate, in Bouillot's estimate, a total of 30 to 35 apprentices. A window measuring 2.40 metres in height and 1.25 in width let in adequate amount of light. A subdivision of the workshop served for storage.30 Apprentices sat on floor mats. Bouillot installed a fountain near the well in the courtyard to replace the existing fixed basin so that they could wash their hands and faces with fresh running water, thus eliminating "the deplorable unhygienic consequences" of old habits. She surmised that the women at the workshop would assimilate and, eventually, introduce into their own homes the French practices of cleanliness and propriety of behaviour, provided they displayed these habits in routine "small doses."31 These organisational steps were, nonetheless, transitional. Six months later, by June 1914, Bouillot had made the building undergo a complete renovation according to her direct instructions. She moved the workshop to the second floor where she installed four windows, each measuring 1.30 metres by 0.90. The workshop opened on an interior gallery of 11 metres in length and 2.95 in width and 4 in height. By widening the door to 2 metres by 1.50, she made the workshop look more spacious. The new

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design immediately ameliorated the training and labour conditions, both of which became more comfortable and hygienic. The building location respected the Moroccan Islamic gender segregation for it stood in a quiet dead-end street with few residential homes.32 To convince parents that she understood these implicit issues, Bouillot "garnished" all windows with light white muslin curtains, thus preventing male passer-bys in the adjacent street from looking in on the young women. For better hygiene, she improved lighting and ventilation, and ordered the interior whitewashed and the floor cemented for easy scrubbing. She requested floor mats from a shop in the neighbourhood, and designed large cupboards, which occupied the length of the gallery and where the apprentices stored their material and unfinished projects. To avoid the huddling and crowding that characterised the medina's workshops which she had visited, Bouillot ordered apprentices to sit in two rows along the walls creating a path which allowed her to inspect their work easily. Bouillot paid Slimana a regular subsidy and convinced her that, because of her age, her role should be limited to that of an educator, not an instructor or a workshop manager, but rather a source of wisdom.33 Slimana not only accepted the new modifications but acknowledged "on her own" her dependency on the "superior" managerial skills of Bouillot who by now proclaimed herself "the director of a craft school."34 Slimana, additionally, agreed to accept and work under any French women whom the General Administration of Public Education would assign to replace Bouillot in case she would have to attend to another mission. A year after Bouillot's intervention, Slimana's workshop evolved into "a craft school for native aristocratic women," doubling the number of apprentices from thirty in 1913, to sixty in 1914. Products manufactured at the school monopolised Salé’s embroidery output and caused a number of other workshops to close down,35(figs. 5.1-2). Earlier, because Slimana did not receive a wage for her teaching, she had made the parents experience all kinds of exigencies. But under Bouillot's new system, the parents praised the "positive influence," and the easy-going manners of the young French woman, and recognised the workshop as the official embroidery school of the medina.36 Only after Slimana had accepted the French guidance and only after the families admitted the utility of French education and the positive "moral and intellectual influence" it had on their daughters, did Bouillot propose to modify the training methods, which would buttress French control of feminine craft industries. 37 Bouillot had total control of the technical aspects of production in the new school. Though she did not introduce any radical modifications in the design of the embroidered items, she emphasised that the workshop had to accentuate their "picturesque features," which alone could

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guarantee their success outside the Protectorate. This project would involve a tighter regulation of labour and a stringent selection of both workers and instructors.38 Apprentices from the aristocracy continued to produce handicrafts for their own account, while others who wished to gain extra money worked on commissions for the medina's merchants and bourgeoisie. Bouillot selected these young workers from among the most talented students who had become young ma`almat in their own right. They formed the main production nucleus. Under Bouillot's order of November 1, 1913, Slimana and the young ma`almat produced a series of 32 embroidered works,39 representing "all the patterns of the Salé embroidery" as well as the variations of the stitch techniques they involved. To put it in Bouillot's own words, the series preserved intact as if in "writing...the history of this Moroccan craft."40 Bouillot designated the series as models to be used by future schools throughout the Protectorate, for they illustrated the methodical execution and good understanding of the symmetry of design. They illustrated, above all, that the young ma`almat who produced them had "assimilated the lessons of measuring" which she had taught them.41 Bouillot urged her superiors at the General Administration of Public Education that if the French authorities wished to keep a tight control of impending workshops and increase French influence, prospective instructors had to be French. They would need to demonstrate, in addition, a vast knowledge of the Moroccan milieu, language, and the techniques of feminine crafts which they would have to teach. They would, furthermore, have to complete their training in the Rabat schools for French women, where they would learn Arabic and visit traditional workshops. There they would undergo their first initiation, as she did, into "their [future] task which consist[ed] primarily in making themselves loved by the native [female] children they would instruct."42

The Practical Utility The scope of French incursion into the Moroccan feminine milieu targeted not only the aristocracy but the masses as well. Slawi women from the masses wove carpets, which they mainly sold to merchants in the local market. They worked fast and produced a craft, which Bouillot judged "uniform in the mediocrity of its completion and low artistic quality."43 These weavers laboured for their own account and showed no interest in forming apprentices. At the turn of the twentieth century, two weavers exerted themselves for two weeks to finish a hanbal (a carpetblanket highly in demand in Rabat and Salé) that sold for 100 francs, 40 of which covered the cost of raw materials. That is, the two toiled for the

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meagre sum of 2 francs a day.44 Those who had apprentices did not have the basic pedagogical skills. An apprentice only needed to memorise what she had seen the ma`alma make. Her main training consisted in being able to combine in a few compositional variations the designs the ma`alma mastered. As a result, only few ma`almat had the skill to copy a carpet they had not woven or seen before. Bouillot, hence, set out to create a separate workshop of carpet weaving which, in its management, would resemble the embroidery school. This division had a practical utility for the French authorities. Prior to establishing a systematic organisation of the workshop, Bouillot began by convincing local women she intended to recruit that they should not have any shame in winning their livelihood through their work. She then enrolled young apprentices, mainly from poor families, and trained them in a separate room as workers who would manufacture carpets for the market and carry out commissions for the Moroccan aristocracy, thereby contributing to the school's budget.45 Bouillot, again, claimed that this additional division had a humanitarian purpose. It would help the financial circumstances of numerous women, whom "the laws of Islamic society" had kept "silent in resignation and incurable paucity."46 The project had to achieve two goals. On one hand, it had to revive a craft, which both Europeans and Moroccans purchased for their home interiors. On the other hand, it had to strengthen the local market, which had become saturated by machine-produced "Oriental" carpets manufactured in Austria.47 Bouillot, as a first step, followed similar procedures as those she had previously employed in the embroidery division. The ma`alma weaver whom she hired knew no more than a design or two and could not contribute to the projected reform of this craft, which called for an increase in the variation of patterns. Hence, from workshops and shops in the medina Bouillot purchased a collection of "ancient" and "authentic" carpets the designs of which workers used as reference models. For this task Lieutenant Marion recommended that she had to limit enrolment and train future workers from the destitute milieu only. As an incentive, apprentices shared the total benefit of the carpets they made and sold in the market. Bouillot, additionally, systemised the traditional procedures of pigment colouring and tinting. When she discovered that the Salé dyers could not offer all the necessary ingredients needed and that the Rabat weavers had monopolised the dye industry, she developed a subdivision that specialised in producing this material from natural ingredients, a project that contributed to the revival of an industry that had nearly vanished.48 The survival of the Salé school depended on Bouillot's perseverance and on her focused propaganda. In February 1923, Georges Hardy, the second General Director of Public Education, Louis Brunot, the General

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Inspector of the Native Education Bureau, and Bouillot, in an attempt to further diffuse the image of the school as an official Protectorate institution, organised an exhibition of the embroidery and carpets woven by the two workshops and invited French and Moroccan dignitaries, including the Municipality Chief, the Deputy of the Grand Vizier, the Pasha (the city governor), the Qadi (the judge), and the Nadhir (the Makhzen Administration Inspector).49 The Pasha's office distributed invitations. The official character of the exhibition and the wide publicity in the Muslim press forced the Slawi notables to attend. Bouillot calculated that this event should represent a "celebration" that would convince the "native elements who still showed hostility to our establishment that we, though simple French 'roumiyas' [Christian women], are capable of teaching the[ir] young women...more things than just the French language."50 Bouillot granted the apprentices a two-day recess, and held the display in the school after she vacated it. She chose the opening date well, for it coincided with the Muslim celebration of Cha`bana (commemoration of the martyrdom of Imam Houssine, grandson of the Prophet Mohamed). The timing "stamped the school as the meeting centre of things French and Moroccan." Bouillot kept works the apprentices produced but did not sell in a storeroom in the school as reference material.51

A Dialectical Prism of Colonialism and the Rabat School Not all the craft schools for Moroccan women in the Protectorate followed the Salé example in their reorganisation. Rabat, as opposed to Salé, had a considerable estimate of ma`almat who taught young students the renowned Rabat embroidery stitch in their homes. When Bouillot visited two of their workshops and noted that both had efficient teaching methods and well-controlled labour, she did not see it necessary to change their structure. Nevertheless, on July 1914, with the help of two French instructors, the Iles sisters, whom the General Administration of Public Education summoned from Algeria, she created an embroidery school by annexing the home-workshop of a certain ma`alma Ben Gnaoui. Since she did not deem improving Ben Gnaoui’s teaching procedures necessary, Bouillot decided to move directly to the next step of proposing an Arabic course for which she hired a Moroccan woman instructor and a course in French, which she taught herself. The Rabat school, like Salé's, included two separate workshops of embroidery and carpet weaving, and the ma’alma and her apprentices obeyed Bouillot's directives.52 Exploring the discursive formations around these schools enables us to underscore the receptivity French women had to a number of aspects

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of French colonial discourse which, in its effort to have a grip on Moroccan crafts, drew inspiration from the discipline of Orientalism. This investigation also allows us to undercut the long held notion that only colonial men produced colonial culture. The role these women played in fortifying the agenda of the French authorities and their participation in colonial utterances allows us also to reconceptualise the forces and the tensions which worked the Protectorate from within and which spread French ideology into the Moroccan feminine world. French women who managed the feminine vocational schools depicted Moroccan women as passive spectators, while they defined themselves both as active protectors of their threatened craft and as inventors of new handicraft forms. They positioned their reports in relation to pre-existing colonial codes, which become quite apparent in their choice of subject and style. The Rabat project offered yet another opportunity in which the scholarship initiated by these French women attempted to explain the social life of crafts Moroccan women produced. On Brunot's recommendation, Renée Bazet, the new director of the Rabat school after Bouillot returned to Salé, undertook an investigation into local carpet manufacturing in January 1921. We have seen in Chapter One how French scholars studied Moroccan crafts through the prism of the idioms set by the French authorities and how they focused their research on ethnic, religious, and gender differentiation in order to define local crafts as both unoriginal and unimaginative. More than these scholars, Bazet defined carpet weaving in Rabat, one of its major traditional industries, as a simulacrum of unknown origin for, she claimed, the weavers themselves ignored its true source. Bazet's research concentrated on the technique of the Rabat carpetmaking, the symbols it depicted, and the popular songs weavers performed during work sessions. To make her report far reaching, she also discussed the sacred sites of the patron saints affiliated with this craft, their lives, the circumstances of their deaths, and the miracles they performed on behalf of the practitioners of this trade. Bazet produced an extensive inquiry which, as she put it, required patience. Her persistence, she explained, allowed her to discover the ancient patterns, which the medina's population supposedly could not locate. Once she concluded her study, she stored a series of drawings of "authentic" models she had come across as prototypes at the school. Bazet, however, essentially emphasised the mythological origin of the carpet. To endow her report with legitimacy, she asserted that she had drawn her interpretations, primarily, from popular sources which tended to "envelop their narrations with details created by pure imagination."53 She compared the narratives she gathered to "a ball of spinning thread in the middle of which [native

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women] concealed a stone to increase its weight." Her task as a scholar consisted, therefore, "of unwinding the whole ball to discover the stone."54 French definitions and redefinitions of Moroccan crafts and their practices, we might wish to recall from the preceding chapters, represented composite images through which a set of polarities could be established that irredeemably judged these trades not only as different and inferior to Western art, but as unauthentic as well. To come to terms with the Rabat carpet, Bazet joined forces with the French male scholars and could not free herself of their exegesis. Her research appropriated their approaches and drew similar conclusions which, in general, delegitimised this traditional industry as a craft not proper to Morocco. Bazet concluded that the Rabat carpet, like everything in the country, had its history embedded in legend. This ahistorical approach stood in dialectical opposition to the Western model of progress. It contended that Moroccan handicrafts emerged as backward and, by extension, so did the Moroccans. In Rabat, women weavers told Bazet with "a charming naivety" and "an infantile revelation" that the first carpet came to them from the sky,55 a story she did not fail to rehearse. One bright morning, a large flock of storks returned from an unknown country in "the Orient." One of the birds had whiter feathers and held in its beak a portion of an Oriental carpet. The flock circled the medina and the white-feathered stork dropped the fragment in the courtyard of the home of a certain Radlani at Sidi Fatah Street. The women in the Radlani household, who wove hanbals, picked up the small piece and began studying its patterns. The most competent among them soon recognised in it certain objects and started copying and accentuating them before appropriating them as their own. These elements represented the barrad (teapot), the kissan (teacups), the strambiya (cushion), the haska (candlestick), and the kholkhal (ankle bracelet). Radlani women quickly learned that they could incorporate in their future carpets additional shapes of objects they already had in their home. The forms they invented included the mahbaq (flower pot), the qronfal (flowers), the dwali (vine leaves), the zallij (mosaics), and lastly the khamsa (a talisman depicting a silhouette of an open hand, which Moroccans nailed to the top of the door of their home as a sign of protection against the evil eye). Radlani women widened their scope and continued integrating still newer items such as the storks themselves which nested on the rooftops in their neighbourhood. They conceived, thus, a novel motif called rajlin ballaraj (the legs of the stork); they assimilated the sparrows which flew in a compact chain over the courtyard sky of their home in a pattern they called sansla dial tior (chain of birds); and they integrated the palm tree near the mosque in a new carpet type that had red configurations on a green background.56

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Bazet's otherwise informative account of the designs depicted in the Rabat carpet, nonetheless, illustrates the down side of the expansiveness of the Orientalist and colonial scholarship. From the start, she chose this tale as an explanatory marker above all other possible stories she gathered to, primarily, devalourise the crafts practiced by all Moroccan women. She emphasised, in fact, that the experience and approach of Radlani women spread to weavers throughout the country in that they all began integrating elements which they knew. She also stressed that past ma`almat mastered their craft better than contemporaries ones, that they produced carpets that had tight knots and a limited, yet harmonious, palette of seven colours. An essential conclusion of her interpretation, however, is that Rabat women did not conceive the local Rabat carpet on their own, nor that its shape and design evolved through a cross cultural process that could be historically traced between Morocco and Middle Eastern countries. This carpet emerged, rather, in an undefined historical period and from a particular legendary circumstance. Bazet presented an easy to understand linear narrative, abstracting all "unnecessary details" with which the popular imagination of women in the medina initially enveloped the legend. She claimed that in her study she attempted "to discover the [carpet’s source] in all its primitive simplicity and, thus, in its total originality."57 This ahistorical interpretation must be understood vis-à-vis a Western model, and that the purpose of disassociating Moroccan crafts from the imperatives of Western art leads to stripping them of any artistic value and cultural expression.

The Maison and Dar `Adiyal: Two Schools in Fez The creation of the Maison in Fez informs us, more than the Salé and the Rabat schools, of the true goal behind the type of education the French authorities offered Moroccan women. Through it, the authorities sought to access the Fez bourgeois families, whom they accused of always remaining unyielding to their influence. A. Bel, charged by the General Administration of Public Education with the creation of the Maison in 1915, not only retained Bouillot's lessons but refined them. In establishing this school, she put emphasis on the mobilisation of "public networks," which could "attract to us the young girls from the Muslim high bourgeoisie through whom we will make our influence penetrate the feminine milieu of this dominant class."58 This establishment, therefore, had to do more with opening up this powerful Moroccan social class to French influence and less with educating the Fassi women (from Fez). Following the recommendations of the Commanding Officer of the Fez military region, Loth advised Bel to search for "practical solutions" which should not awaken the suspicion of the families of prospective students.59

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After proper networking among both French and Moroccan Makhzen officials in the Fez medina, Bel visited a number of parents, convincing them of the benefits of weekly "réunions" for their daughters. Play "sessions" she had planned would bring their daughters out of isolation. She assured them she would hold these meetings in an atmosphere that would respect the local tradition reserved for female Muslims. After she introduced the children to each other, the first gathering took place on Friday April 1, 1915 in the Maison de réunions des fillettes de la bourgeoisie [musulmane]. Twenty-four girls from the most influential homes attended.60 During this initial session they had no task to fulfil other than being amused. Bel maintained, as did Bouillot before her that "only through entertaining games could we begin to attract and educate [these] young children."61 When Bel could not find the toys she needed to humour them, neither in Fez, Rabat, nor Casablanca, Lyautey authorised the Fez Municipality Chief to order them directly from Paris.62 The articles included two sets of domino and two sets of lotto games, two unclothed dolls, one stereoscope with landscape views, one magic lantern with different sceneries, six buckets with children's shovels, and two spinning tops.63 The Municipality paid for these novelties, and Captain Mellier from the Regional Army contributed money toward buying tea, sugar, and cookies for the first reunion. Bel had initially asked for the assistance of the General Secretary of the Moroccan Sharifian Government to generate the necessary budget, but he refused from fear that such meetings would take place in a European setting which he judged would have, in the eyes of Fassi parents, a bad impact on the morality of their daughters.64 In a well-calculated move, Bel organised the opening meeting in two rooms, the first dressed "à la Européene," the second decorated with Moroccan interior design and furniture. It is important, at this point, to look for the political goal behind Bel’s decision of including these two rooms. The "European room" had French furniture becoming, therefore, a gallery which displayed and brought the Moroccan guests into close contact with samples of modern European fixtures. This room additionally had a desk that gave it the appearance of an office. Later the same desk, as Bel foresaw, would function as a workbench when she would transform the Maison into a vocational school. On the other hand, the "Moroccan room" placated the Moroccan guests. A hybrid space of cultural assimilation, it had furniture appropriated from French interiors, similar to those shown in the first room but redesigned in a Moroccan style, thus conforming to local usage. It contained two tables, sixteen stools, two chests, one cupboard, one library show-case with three doors, one chest with drawers, two shelves, a large rug, small corner seats, and a divan (couch). Local craftsmen manufactured these items from cedar wood and decorated them with sculpted traditional ornaments.

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The accessories constituted a series of "furniture models," which students and their parents visiting the Maison would wish to use in their own homes. Fassi bourgeoisie, we might recall, represented the Moroccan elite as regards culture as well as fashion consumption. Contact with the French, however, had "regrettable effects" on their interior designs in that many purchased European mass-produced household appliances originally manufactured to satisfy European needs. Soon after the instalment of the Protectorate, they began transforming their guest rooms into French "salons," consequently decontextualising and bastardising the rest of their home décor, which remained traditionally intact.65 Bel viewed the Moroccan room at the Maison as a first step with which to "initiate [the Fez bourgeoisie] to our politics."66 It would demonstrate to students, their older sisters, and their mothers, that European furniture, when inventively redesigned, could fit and better harmonise with Moroccan interior design and decoration. They would learn that local craftsmen could manufacture the new artefacts and that they could purchase them from the medina’s market, all of which would amount to legitimising in their eyes the French project of creating the vocational schools of wood working and iron smithing for Muslim men (see the preceding chapter). Bel kept constant contact with the aristocratic families whose daughters attended the reunions. When the parents trusted her, she expressed to them her wish of expanding the play sessions by adding a few modern courses. They refused taking this step at this early date under the pretext that modern education would corrupt the morality of their daughters by exposing them to French behaviours. On January 10, 1916, only five students showed up at the Maison. They belonged to some of the most powerful families such as Zahra bint Moulay Ali Kriti, daughter of a well-known sharif (descendant of the Prophet Mohamed) and a powerful land owner; Fatma bint Driss Abdeljelil, daughter of the deputy of the Pasha of Fez; Noufissa bint Driss el Amrani, daughter of the ex-Pacha of Casablanca; Aicha bint Mohamed Gharnit, daughter of the Muhtasib (market inspector) of Fez Jdid; Zoubida bint el Boukili Houssine, sister in law of the director of the Lamtiyine Franco-Arab school in Fez. Bel allowed the servants accompanying the young girls to remain with them throughout the school sessions.67 At the Maison Bel designed a curriculum that focused on entertaining students. Bel and Miss Brodbeck, her French assistant, began by showing the young Fassis new manual works involving découpage (scissor cut-outs), tapestry on canvas, and introduced them to learning the French and Arabic alphabets, followed by games in the garden. A snack of tea and cake, also part of the socialisation process, concluded the first day of school. The same students returned the following day, and Bel did not fail to notice that the servants delivered them and only came back to retrieve them at the end of

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the session. Conscious of the Muslim traditions, Bel granted her students vacations during the religious celebrations.68 As a second step Bel started teaching them the piano, in addition to fundamental notions of Arabic and French. She knew the Fassis distrusted her and so she had to prove to them that she carefully followed their advice. She wrote in her report of June 6, 1916, that "we need not force the hand of the parents, but need only to encourage them to willingly entrust their daughters to us." From her regular meetings with the parents she "discovered their opinions and discerned their state of mind." She learned, indeed, from a notable Fassi man with whom she had a lengthy discussion of her project, that "before penetrating a dark street, we like to see the fate of those who preceded us."69 The five students told their parents about their activities at the school, assuring them that Bel and Brodbeck did not seek to "change" their morality or traditions. By late June of the same year, parents who had initially enlisted one, now enrolled all their daughters.70 The real element Bel wished to reach was, in actuality, the mothers and the grandmothers for they had "a real influence on the families."71 The fathers, on the other hand, were "very diplomatic" and rarely revealed their thoughts.72 Fassi women confided to Bel their reservations and true concerns. From them she learned, for example, that it was wiser to hire a fqiha not a fqih, a female not a male instructor, to teach the Koran, and that she should drop carpet weaving from the curriculum, because women from the bourgeoisie abhorred practicing this craft. They also asked her to keep in mind that their daughters did not need to work to make a living, and that she should, rather, perfect their house management skills, which prospective husbands appreciated more than any other talent. The Maison, in fact, acquired the title of a school only when it specialised in domestic works. From the catalogue of the Librairie Hachette in Paris and via the Municipality, Bel ordered the large amount of supplies needed to accommodate this transformation. The fifty items she sent for had a definite French character and consisted of a globe, maps, drawing notebooks, stick-on papers, glue, dolls of different sizes, mannequins of cats and dogs, Young Sambo and Mlle Nini, a children's book widely used by French schools in the Empire, triangles and rectangles, coloured pencils and paper, scissors, skipping rope, among other items.73 When Madame Lyautey attended a session in 1916 she did not fail to notice that, indeed, "native families had began coming to us of their own will."74 Bel created an additional vocational school for women with two workshops in a building known as Dar `Adiyal in the popular neighbourhood of Fez Jdid. In October 1915, Bel, her superiors from the General Administration of Public Education, and representatives of the Moroccan Makhzen inaugurated the first workshops that enrolled women from the masses. In it they learned domestic housework as cooks, laundresses and

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cleaning women who would work for French families in the ville nouvelle. Bel hired two French women instructors and a Moroccan woman cook. The second workshop, limited to a feminine craft, namely embroidery, opened in mid 1916. This lapse in time allowed Bel to further study the project and to deepen her knowledge of the crafts she intended to teach at the school.75 Inspired by Bouillot's procedure in Salé, she followed four steps, a pedagogical formation of the staff; spatial reordering; financial planning of the enterprise; and restructuring of the school's administration. In the embroidery division, she formed a small nucleus of competent workers who executed her orders to the letter and assimilated old models of the Fez refined embroidery. She also located an embroidery ma`alma with whom she stayed in close contact, forming "her taste" as well as that of her apprentices. Bel brought the ma`alma ancient embroidery models from different sources. She then broke their complex design down making them accessible for the ma`alma and her apprentices to copy.76 Bel outlined the general management of the school in an authoritative tone which, she claimed, was "the culmination of two and an half year experience" she spent among the Fassis.77 She financed the school by requesting a budget from the General Administration of Public Education to pay for raw materials, silk and canvas, and for the daily allowances she paid the ma`alma and her pupils. Because the initial workshop was "small" and "dark," and because both Bel and the ma`alma had difficulties recruiting apprentices from the immediate neighbourhood who were willing to work in these conditions, Bel moved the ma`alma and her family to a larger building under the condition that the ma`alma would commit herself to the project. Under Loth’s advice, the Municipality and the ma`alma shared the cost of rent until apprentices began selling their work in the market. The school contained three separate workshops each of which specialised in a Fez embroidery style, including the `aleuf which by this date had almost disappeared; golden thread embroidery; and the shabbak style. In order for the school to shield the "purity" of each type, Bel allowed each workshop to remain independent, although she encouraged the ma`alma and the workers to preserve the traditional aspect of socialisation found in the men's craft workshops.78 We can conclude with reservation that the school had an atmosphere of relaxed camaraderie. However, Bel "rationalised" and made teaching "progressive."79 She feared that if the ma`alma, her assistants, and apprentices saw the school heading toward commercial use only, they would privilege quantity over quality and would work at a quick pace, producing items of uniformly poor taste. Bel, as a solution, initiated new apprentices into their craft by asking them to fulfil small tasks, which consisted of copying uncomplicated but concise exercises. Competent students manufactured only the handicrafts which Bel thought will easily sell in the mar-

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ket. This system altered the relationship of the ma`alma and the management of the workshop in terms of teaching and production. Not unlike Slimana in Salé, the ma`alma retained a symbolic role, and Bel defined the task of any future female director of the school as both engaging and delicate, primarily because "Muslim female workers are infamously difficult to handle."80 Bel, thus, recommended that the director had to be French. She would have to manage the school's finances and choose the models student would copy and the material they would use. She would have to monitor the work ethic and production as well, never forgetting that the school should focus on its ultimate goal, i.e., to mobilise Moroccan craftswomen from the middle and lower classes. The director, additionally, would have to cultivate relations with the parents. In a parallel move similar to the one which directors of the vocational schools for men followed, she would have to keep contact with the students after they left the workshop, visit them in their homes, assist them in finding work, and serve as an intermediary between them and their Moroccan and European clientele.81 Instructors, also, had to have French nationality. They would have to study at the Rabat school where they would learn spoken Moroccan Arabic, embroidery, carpet weaving, and sewing. In addition, Bel required instructors to accompany the apprentices to the school's nursery, and regularly visit their families.82 Brunot implemented further regimentation. He recommended that only after a school for women had acquired a sufficient number of apprentices could the director proceed to a more formal organisation, assigning each of her French assistants a determined function based on their qualifications. First and foremost, he urged that the director had to reinforce punctuality among her assistants, insisting that they should arrive five minutes before class. The director alone could leave the premises during class to run errands for the school or to make indispensable visits to the families. Only under exceptional circumstances could assistants leave their classrooms. Assistants had a three months vacation from June 1 through October 1, while the ma`alma and the apprentices continued production and only vacationed in August.83 Brunot also emphasised accurate bookkeeping. The director had to be able to answer questions during inspections conducted by the Finance Bureau as regards budget spending and production.84 Most importantly the director had to perform a moral task. She had to shield the taste of the apprentices and the workers by only accepting commissions that included designs which neither spoiled nor contaminated the collected ancient models housed at the school's museum. Patrons paid for raw material, and the ma`alma and the apprentices received a percentage of the money made from the commission as encouragement. Bel diffused the positive image of the school among the French and

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Moroccans as an institution that only manufactured high quality embroidery. This propaganda immediately increased commissions and the school's budget. The ma`alma and her competent assistants, additionally, produced items which Bel displayed in Regional Exhibitions and in shop windows. Bel preserved and catalogued unsold artefacts in the school's museum, serving as a visual repertoire of models from which the workshop did not deviate.85 The Fez Jdid School achieved its goal of assimilating the women who frequented it, and also became what Miss Soulé, its new director, called a liaison that brought the French and the Moroccans into peaceful contact. We might recall from Chapter Three that French colonial theoreticians aimed at making the contact between the colonizers and the colonised subjects amicable. In a report to the General Inspector of Public Education, Soulé spoke of "an excellent day from the political point of view."86 On June 16, 1929 she held the celebration of Saba` al-Miloud (the commemoration of the birth of the Prophet Mohamed) at the Dar `Adiyal School. In addition to the mothers of students, Soulé invited French women, a well-calculated move that endowed the event with a friendly character. To give the school "un éclat" that impressed the Moroccan guests, she borrowed Moroccan carpets from the collection of the Municipality museum and encouraged both the Moroccan and French guests to bring additional local accessories to transform the school into "a ravishing and purely Moroccan space."87 At two o'clock in the afternoon, the Fassi girls, clothed in their best dresses and jewellery, sat in the patio in the posture of `aroussas (brides) around the fqiha who, stick in hand, "orchestrated" them into a recital of passages from the Koran in a rhythmic melody. To show their pride, the Moroccan mothers you-youed. At the end of the recitation, Mme Haut, a French guest, gave a speech, which Soulé simultaneously translated into Arabic, congratulating the students for their achievement and assiduity. At the end, Soulé rewarded each with a pair of scissors, needles, and handkerchiefs.88 Similar to vocational schools for men, allowances the workers and apprentices received increased enrolment and encouraged attendance. In a study conducted on the nature of the wages in the women's schools which he ordered, Brunot, however, received imprecise information. Because the directors had difficulties deciding these stipends, they emulated the traditional piecework system. At the Fedala (now Mohammedia) school Mrs. Counord paid her apprentices according to the category of the object they made; in Casablanca Miss Dumax paid young carpet weavers per 1,000 knots, a system which the schools in Chichaoua and Rabat also followed; in Mazagan (now El Jedida) Mrs. Ammor relied on paying students by the square metre; in Oujda the weight of the silk or cotton an embroiderer used decided the salary she received. Brunot's solution combined these pre-

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Protectorate systems into a more systematic mode of payment. He declared that regulating allowances would facilitate improving production. As an initial step, he asked the directors to answer a series of questions that would categorise apprentices according to those who deserved remuneration and those who did not. Brunot mandated the following: students who were to receive it should manufacture saleable items; directors paid carpet weavers by calculating the number of decimetres, or eight inches, they completed a day; they paid embroiderers and lace workers based on the number of days they spent in using up ten grams of silk or cotton thread; they decided the subsidy for items which did not fit these categories on the nature of the object. A worker who produced a sweater with sleeves, for example, earned more than her colleague who made a sleeveless one. To avoid discrepancies, Brunot advised the directors to keep the amount of the allowances congruous throughout the Protectorate.89 As with the vocational school for men, Brunot suggested to Loth that the directors should retain older apprentices longer in school in order to "assure the depth of our educative action."90 He also recommended that the directors should decide increases in allowances based on the age and the length of time the apprentices spent in the school. The amount should remain modest, if not "substantial," so that parents, who chose to educate their daughters instead of having them babysitting their younger siblings, appreciated it as an additional income. Brunot argued that, because these workers produced readily saleable objects, they should receive relatively higher allowances than male students. Stipends ranged from 2.5 francs a day for well-trained apprentices to 1 franc for average one.91 The goal of French education of Moroccan women consisted in mustering their milieu without raising their suspicion. French women involved in the project worked slowly and discreetly and never lost sight of the true intent of their mission, namely, encouraging their Moroccan women clients to adopt French work rule. In 1934, a decade after the Saba` al-Miloud celebration mentioned above, Slawi notables expressed a new spirit. 92 Until this date the Salé School conformed to the Moroccan concept of social sectarianism; it included two groups, young notable women who studied the different styles of embroidery, and women from the masses who learned carpet weaving. Only a few of the notables had their parents’ permission to study the fundamentals of the French language. At this date a committee of Moroccan dignitaries, however, voiced what in the words of the Salé region Civil Controller became "un élément d'appréciation non negligeable."93 The committee presented a petition to the Municipality Chief to create a separate workshop where their daughters would receive bilingual education in Arabic and French as well as house management and sewing. The committee rejected all other manual training. Petitioners included men who had no daughters to send to the school, thus "assuring the sincerity" of the claim.94

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In 1936 the Muslim Students Alumni Association of the elitist Moulay Idriss High School in Fez, similarly, sent an appeal to the Resident General soliciting the creation of a primary school for their daughters with a curriculum different from the one the Fez Jdid vocational school followed. They argued that the present social needs had surpassed the purpose of craft education, which aimed mainly at reviving and strengthening traditional industries. Fathers who had received a bilingual education and who had daughters of school age requested the implementation of modern education which, they did not fail to recall, "France... promised to establish in this country."95 They emphasised their belief that their daughters should also benefit from the "generous" Franco-Moroccan education, which they themselves had received and the "ideals of which we [are] the apostles." They claimed, most importantly, that bilingual schools would increase "a rapprochement of the two people."96 The only condition they deemed necessary was to begin enrolment at age seven and to shield their daughters from male gazes including those of the inspectors.97 Moroccans were, by this date, no longer spectators. The Moroccan nationalist movement emerged in the wake of the Berber Dahir, a law issued in 1930 by the French authorities intending to assimilate the Berbers into the French legal system, thus officially dividing Moroccans into two separate ethnic groups. The nationalists understood the true nature of the educational reforms and, in order to counter their hegemonic culture, began creating alternative schools. In the 1920s the nationalists resisted French education by reviving the msids (Koranic schools). By the 1930s, under the leadership of Allal el Fassi, they had acquired enough momentum to make demands on the Protectorate Government to implement new reforms in the field of education and economic development. These reforms, the nationalists argued, would enable Moroccans to join in the management of the Protectorate and to rise in the colonial social hierarchy, which had kept them as subalterns. They criticised the vocational schools for failing to truly respond to the Moroccan environment. They complained that a large number of graduates from these establishments could not find jobs in the medinas, their immediate milieu, and "preferred to change professions than to exercise their craft elsewhere."98 But for the French, the Salé and the Fez petitions reiterated a long lasting sectarian mentality the Moroccan notables continued to have, namely their refusal to allow their daughters to come in contact with children from "modest origins."99 We need, however, to add another explanation for the manifestation of this new spirit. French authorities had until this point done very little to advance the goals of the Moroccan bourgeoisie. This powerful social class came to understand that the true purpose of the Protectorate reforms aimed at transforming them into subordinates and

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keep them away from the decision making process. The petitions explain yet an additional factor. The bourgeoisie also believed that only by acquiring an education based on a modern curriculum could their social group develop and progress in the colonial society. The French refused to yield to these demands and offered only limited reforms. To placate the Fez dignitaries, they charged Mme Bally, the new director of the Fez Jdid vocational school, with a new experiment, the gradual introduction of the courses mentioned by the notables. By 1937 the population of the school comprised three categories. Students from the leading families learned French and Arabic and some embroidery; those from the lower middle class also studied French and Arabic, and a number of them practiced crafts in order to gain money; and those from poor families only acquired fundamentals of French focusing more on embroidery and carpet weaving in order "not to waste too much time."100 In spite of these changes in curriculum, Jean Gotteland, the third General Director of Public Education, emphasised the necessity "to develop the original and artistic character of the manual works produced by the apprentices in these schools."101 French women involved in the education project for Moroccan women embraced colonial ideology. Our examination of the role they played in creating and managing vocational schools allows us to understand that, as individuals living in a colonial society, they were affected by and became active producer of colonial culture. The education which Moroccan women received was fundamentally embedded in a political doctrine that strove to win them over, while sustaining their segregation. Their assimilation, however, did not rely on aggressive tactics, but rather on a peaceful and slow diffusion of French precepts. The role performed by these schools complemented that of those created for men in that they assisted French authorities in controlling the feminine craft productions. Schools for women, additionally, promoted new ways in which Moroccan women began to behave, think, and create. Louise Bouillot, Renée Bazet, and A. Bel as pedagogues and educators could not escape the dominant implicit position of superiority which coloured the attitudes of French colonial men. They framed their representation of Moroccan women in a tacit colonial discourse. When recruited to create and manage schools, the Protectorate offered them the opportunity to put into practice their Orientalist and colonial learning, thereby propelling them to construct analyses, prescribe solutions, and implement rules relying on categories of racial and class differentiations. These types of colonial relational classifications and value judgments became the targets of the Moroccan nationalist movement.

CHAPTER SIX: VOCATIONAL TRAINING AND PATRIOTISM IN FRANCE

As we have seen in the previous two chapters, the French attempted to control Moroccan male and female craft productions by elaborating a new type of pedagogy and curricula. Before being introduced into the Protectorate, the foundational tenets of these methods were, however, first formulated in France in the middle of the nineteenth and continued through the first half of the twentieth century. They occurred at times of national crisis when the French became increasingly aware of industrial competition from other European empires. In pushing forward educational reforms in the metropole, the French Government acted with fervour, designating councils and committees composed of educators, artists, and industrialists to study the predicament of industries and recommend necessary guidelines. This attempt initiated long debates concerning the nature of arts and crafts and their relation to industries. They involved governmental and private institutions and brought art and nationalism together. The reformers had an unshakable belief that, to protect their national industries from foreign rivalry, they had to preserve the "originality" and national character of French arts and crafts. To do so, they aimed, primarily, at redeeming drawing which they upheld as the quintessential ground of all vocational training.

French Definition of Arts and Crafts in Europe As early as the mid-nineteenth century, the French had believed that the future of their nation rested on a firm association of arts and industries. Representing France in the Jury Commission at the Crystal Palace International Exhibition held in London in 1851, Léon de Laborde raised the question as to how arts assisted the commercial and intellectual devel-

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opment of a nation. He depicted France as a fountain from which other nations collected whatever artistic capital or skills they had. His statement, suggesting that France educated, as it were, all industrial nations, led him to the overarching belief that artistic originality and taste of his country had become the yardstick of any artistic judgement in the world. Not only did arts and crafts play an important role in the life of a modern nation but art, science, and industry represented a unified field of national interests. Man learned to became industrious by necessity and artist by vocation. Nations, like individuals, achieved different degrees of intelligence and creativity. De Laborde's general assertion underlined the notion that nations met insurmountable difficulty when they sought to invent a local taste from scratch than when they borrowed and adopted it from outside. He insisted that only one people in history, the French, succeeded in innovating and preserving their own taste for more than 1,200 years. Of all other nations, only Egypt, an ancient civilisation, achieved an unquestionably original style. Without blinking an eyelid, he argued that the Chinese, though an old and affluent civilisation, had failed to create its own artistic imprint and appropriated the art of Egypt. He concluded by asserting that only by defending its "universal domination" could France survive the threat of its European rivals.1 In a two-volume report he wrote after the Crystal Exhibition, de Laborde pinpointed the shifting power relations among European empires and the differing political agendas regarding the issues raised by emerging modern societies. He investigated the relationship between industry and craft, emphasising that industrial manufacturing should result in artistically pleasing forms. He also paid close attention to the interconnection between originality and the environment as well as the impact geography and climate had on a nation's artistic competence. The ability to create and originate artistic forms varied from artist to artist, from nation to nation, and was also culturally and racially conditioned, he argued. He examined all the participating countries in the 1851 Exhibition and ranked them based on their industrial strength. He reserved a substantial part of his report for Austria, America, Belgium and England, warning the French that, since these countries "followed in our footsteps," they represented a serious threat to French industries. De Laborde judged the other countries as representing a lesser menace since they lacked artistic initiatives and originality.2 In the Crystal Palace Exhibition, de Laborde extracted "the essence" of the artistic achievement of the participating nations in stereotypical generalisations. Because it was a "non-European nation," Russia had a feeble foundation on which it could ground artistic originality and, due to this fact, it had better pursue its "natural inclination" of becoming the

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leader of Asia instead of imitating European nations. He divided Russian arts and industries in two categories. Russian national arts and crafts drew from local inspiration and stood, therefore, higher in the scale of artistic values than craft and arts which the Russians imported from Europe. Arts and crafts produced by Denmark and Sweden, likewise, suffered from a weak national character and inspiration. Though Spain had valuable raw materials, its art production represented no more than a pastiche, or at best, an imitation of its glorious past masterpieces. Greece, the cradle of European civilisation, had nothing left to offer humanity except ruins. Holland, on the other hand, no longer had the skills that would distinguish it as an artistic nation and, instead, survived as "a wandering projectile that lost both its strength and its sense of direction." Italy, too, had nothing to show except echoes of its distant glory.3 Prussia, in de Laborde's view, was deprived of originality because, as a nation, its population consisted of different ethnic groups and, consequently, found itself torn between contradictory artistic tendencies. Though the Prussians resembled French peasants in that they had high motivation and strong work ethics, they produced outstanding works of art that had more to do with the realm of philosophy and poetry and less with Art. Their unsophisticated artistic foundation caused them to produce items that had an imprecise character. However, when they appropriated arts from other neighbouring countries, they extracted their essence and infused them partially with their own individuality, thanks in part to their sharp imitative skills and patience. This, de Laborde claimed, led them to compete with French industries. He dated the revival of Prussian art and industries to the 1815 visit to France by King William I of Wúrttemberg. During his reign, William I, a progressive ruler, abolished serfdom and class privileges and launched the reforms of vocational education. In Paris he visited the Louvre and a number of art schools and attended a few sessions at the Academy. Upon his return to Prussia, he undertook a wide-ranging agenda that supported art and craft institutions and sponsored new innovations which helped his government diffuse the love of trade and industry among the population. As a result, the Gewerbinstituts of art and craft, created in the aftermath of this revival, specialised in metal crafts, ceramic, wood and stone carving, emphasising the necessity of reforming drawing curricula. The government, additionally, invited master craftsmen from the French cities of Sèvres and Paris to plant the seed of French superior designs and production methods.4 Austria fared, in de Laborde's report, somewhat better than Prussia. Austria had intelligent and industrious artists. But its national art was poor in character, because the Romans never established their civilisational roots in this northern country as they did in southern Europe.

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Though an industrial country, Austria's government still had to mobilise its institutions in order to develop and propagate a sophisticated taste among workers and craftsmen who, in de Laborde's view, constituted the backbone of all industries. Austrians could not challenge the French, because they failed to produce distinguished designs. They also failed to understand that only by propagating a sound drawing education among their workers and young students could they cultivate the skills and taste of a future trained work force, which could meet the pressure of world artistic competition.5 For these nine nations, the crucial task resided, according to de Laborde, primarily in developing dynamic industries with definite artistic traits. They had succeeded to some degree, because they appropriated French designs into their industrial manufacturing. However, he detected a more unequivocal solution in the United States, Belgium, and Britain. This second group shifted the paradigm, which the first group of nations adopted, by designing progressive art curricula, the core of which underscored the role arts and crafts played in developing strong industries. De Laborde's argument suggests that blueprint copying and the appropriation of French art teaching methods and modes of production, as exemplified by the Belgians and the Prussians, became the obvious option the French themselves would have to revisit in order to regain their strength. This alternative, however, remained sometimes unavailable to other countries. Borrowed designs could only emulate an invention, which originated somewhere else. In short, creating a truly original form could never be transmitted through appropriation, for only the external shape of the manufactured object was accessible, not the mind which invented it. De Laborde, nevertheless, warned the French that transmitted designs might inspire others, by the diffusion of ideas, to devise their own solutions to fully reach artistic maturity. To illustrate this last point, he addressed the attempts made by the United States in this direction. First, he began his discussion by establishing the uncommon features which this country did not share with France's old European rivals. The United States did not have originality, because its artists focused mostly on the picturesque and trusted their "instinct." However, what distinguished this new nation was the fact that it was not an "artistic country" that strove to become an "industrial nation" like those in the ancient world, but was rather an "industrial country" that aspired to become an "artistic nation." The United States had made this paradoxical leap by creating the National Institution for the Promotion of Science and Arts, thus initiating a new criterion in that the national schools could not only create novel forms but they could also scientifically teach them. The American phenomenon offered de Laborde

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the occasion to nail down his implicit thesis which privileged art not as a "sublime" concept but as a process of observation and know-how. Americans understood that countries could develop their particular artistic trait by copying and assimilating the arts of others. They also understood that artistic forms, like other commodities, lent themselves to transnational circulation. De Laborde reminded his French countrymen that this, in fact, had always been the case; Asia emulated Egyptian arts, which took the latter centuries to develop; Greece, likewise, borrowed from Asia; and, similarly, Rome, Byzantium, Italy, Spain, Germany, before developing their local styles, conceived of originality as the outcome of a long and patient process of observation. Moreover, America realised, before France's European rivals, that, once established, the national artistic character needed protection of national institutions.6 De Laborde voiced his second major observation as a wake up call to the French. In the modern industrial age "originality" and "national taste" could no longer remain sacred or abstracted notions. In the absence of sound forms, other nations cultivated strong industries through patriotism and hard work. Loyalty to the nation provided a key element in mobilising the masses and in forming new social attitudes and values that fortified the agenda of these nations. Perseverance, on the other hand, served the European rivals as the springboard on which they grounded their own, if not radically different, versions of French achievement. Belgium, which de Laborde considered "a nation that emerged against the will of Europe," had, for example, broken with its past and become a threatening industrial force. This was due, in part, to its strong sense of patriotism and to governmental and private initiatives, which had animated the country's arts and craft industries by reforming vocational curricula. He, nevertheless, condemned Belgium's achievements, because it had developed an industry that, essentially, accommodated market demands and failed to create new designs. At the same time, he praised the efforts of the state and individuals to reform academic art education and industrial and vocational teaching methods.7 Though de Laborde acknowledged throughout his report that no nation had the power to monopolise neither art, craft, nor taste he insisted that France preserved its rank of a nation with a highly developed taste which controlled for centuries. Whereas European nations had fostered their recent industries by emulating France, Great Britain ignored all the new inventions produced on the other side of the Channel, and owed its particular originality, thanks not to innovation inherent in its character but to its geographical insulation and "primitiveness." Britain proceeded, "like a God, from himself and created [everything] in his own image."8 Its religious puritan principles and its scrupulous, uptight political doctrines focused on actualising a politics of "self-support," which

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hindered all creativity and kept the arts separated from daily life. Its selfimposed rules, similarly, restricted the imagination of its artists, like "the ball and chain" limited the movements of the prisoner.9 As I pointed out in Chapter Two, the French had learned from the British a new paradigm of colonisation based on peaceful contact between the colonised and the coloniser. Britain also offered the French new strategies for expanding national industry and for propagating good taste among the masses. The British had discovered, at the turn of the nineteenth-century, the secret of French achievements as residing in the tight link between industry and art. As a result, they undertook sweeping reforms, beginning with the implementation of a new art curriculum. In 1821 grammar schools in Edinburgh began emphasising the importance of drawing. In 1838 the House of Commons nominated a committee to examine the means by which to integrate the principles of drawing into mass education. The result of the committee's study culminated in the creation of a Central School of Drawing in London, which held that the principal element of the program should not be theoretical but practical and directly connected to industries. The committee also encouraged the state to create, sponsor, and control similar schools throughout the country.10 While discussing Britain, de Laborde also noted that not only the dexterity of Belgium, the perseverance of Prussia, or the boldness of the United States that threatened the supremacy of French arts and crafts, but also the "fraudulent" industrial war the British had declared against France. British industrialists travelled to France where they paid handsome sums for original drawings and samples of novel French craft items. Railroads, the telegram, and postal services increased this "unfair" competition. British manufacturers hired the best French designers, craftsmen, and factory foremen, subsequently "flooding" markets on both sides of the Channel with "pirated" articles. In this "industrial war" between the two rival empires, famous French master craftsmen, including M. Bontemps, Director of the Choissy glass factory, and M. Arnous, a master porcelain manufacturer, relocated, respectively, to Birmingham and Minton. The British, nonetheless, did not limit building their industries solely on this organised "art piracy" and "fraudulent" appropriation of French originality, but they sought official state support. To this end, many industrialists pressured The British Trade Council to recognise the importance of art in social life and industrial progress. The Council in turn pressured the Parliament to create a Department of Applied Arts, an event that led to the creation of the Metropolitan School of Practical Arts in London, which specialised in educating drawing instructors who taught in vocational and industrial schools. Young instructor trainees received an allowance that encouraged them to remain in school and not

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seek jobs before graduation. The assembling of a collection of plaster casts, which the drawing classrooms throughout the country employed, crowned the Government’s sponsorship.11 De Laborde's report concluded with a warning about the European and American challenge to the supremacy of French designs. Their patient imitation of French art, their audacity, or "insidious" appropriation of French "originality" could dethrone France from its historically and racially "given" reign over arts and good taste. He further noted that France had too many fine artists who refused to obey any official rules. This posed a problem, because the country had insufficient industrial artists, designers, and trained workers. Inspired by the British and American models, de Laborde encouraged the state to reform vocational training. Only in doing so, could the state bring fine arts from the realm of sublime theory to the necessities of daily practices. He wished to impose a uniform curriculum and "absolute rules" deduced from the sacred principles and experiences of the great masters, which a new socially committed generation of artists, designers, and industrialists could fashion to promote new industrial forms.12 Only the intervention of the state could guarantee the unity of art and society, and the state alone had the legitimacy to protect national artistic heritage. Under de Laborde's recommendations, fine and utilitarian arts, as a result, seemed to be on the verge of departing company.13

"Raphael versus the Cube" De Laborde's extensive report called for a revision of the art teaching curricula in France. Subsequent reforms of vocational and industrial education in the country drew from his initial campaign and continued to uphold the supremacy and "originality" of French art and taste. American art historian, Albert Boime, has noted that the concept of originality, as articulated to some extent by de Laborde, proved crucial in reinventing the art curriculum from the beginning of the 1860s. Boime, however, limited his discussion to the regulations introduced in the Paris École des Beaux-Arts to liberate it from the yoke of the Academy.14 The following section establishes a wider contextualisation of the concept of "originality" by investigating its relation to reforms which targeted utilitarian art. The section seeks to demonstrate that France relied on such rehabilitations whenever it experienced a national crisis, namely, its defeat during the 1870 Franco-Prussian war and the 1871 French Commune-which resulted a year later in a bitter civil and class war--the two World Wars, and the International Financial crisis of 1929. In order to harness

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the masses and restructure industries against the threat of foreign industrial competition, these reforms invariably called for the defence of the supremacy of France’s artistic taste and the original traits of its arts. The Franco-Prussian War and the eradication of the 1871 Commune culminated in the widespread and ruthless deracination of scores of skilled craftsmen. In addition to the deportation of thousands of Frenchmen to overseas prisons, the crisis destabilised class structures and caused an international transfer of the artisan class. It also led to the rise of conservative nationalist politics.15 As noted by French historian, JeanMarie Mayeur, the Commune's insurgency during what became known as the "Bloody Week" resulted in 30,000 deaths, 36,000 imprisonments, and 10,000 convictions.16 French society, hence, yearned for stability. To achieve social reconciliation, the Third Republic (the French government at the time, 1870-1939) called for a return to order. It sought to cleanse the national memory of this double trauma. The Third Republic based its reconfiguration of the social order on the precepts of the ordre moral, the state ideology, which focused on establishing "peace" by controlling the social "declassés," or the socially and economically disenfranchised masses, and the labour force.17 In principle the ordre moral defended the social hierarchy in which the ruling bourgeoisie (nobility, lawyers, high government officials, and military officers) and their descendants retained their social privileges.18 The bourgeoisie, urban in essence, concentrated in Paris and the large cities in the Provinces. It championed labour, controlled, and sponsored political offices, as well as artistic activities.19 Its children also benefited from the highest advantages of secular education, one of the proud works of the Republic. Children from the masses received a primary education oriented toward craft professions. Those from wealthy families enrolled in the liberal arts, hoping to become merchants, industrialists, and manufacturing employers.20 In fact, in the mid-nineteenth century, a third of the student body in the high schools studied industrial trades.21 To improve national industry, the government undertook in grammar, vocational, and high schools, a reform of the drawing curriculum which it deemed to be the basis of trade careers. The government, in addition, pressured both industrial employers and craft employees to master these preliminarily concepts.22 As a result, the reform initiated a long debate concerning the type of drawing these educational establishments had to teach. Before the Third Republic came to power, drawing programs varied according to the nature and the type of each establishment. The Ministry of Public Education had little or no control over the drawing curriculum. It also had insufficient personnel, and since instructors designed the courses they taught, their pedagogical methods differed from one anoth-

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er.23 The classrooms did not have the necessary material, either.24 Given the fact that the students' social origins and predispositions varied, the drawing curriculum destined for primary and high schools was incoherent. In July 1853, two years after the Crystal Palace Exhibition and after de Laborde had finished formulating his thesis concerning the necessity of preserving French industrial supremacy and taste, the Government charged a commission with designing a new drawing program. After pinpointing the insufficiencies of the existing lessons, the commission drafted a law that recognised the importance of drawing in modern education, thus elevating it from being an elective hobby to a mandatory course. The commission also determined the number of courses and teachers needed as well as the requisite supplies. These initial reforms limited the teaching of drawing to high schools. In general, beginning in the seventh grade, students spent one hour of drawing a week. This course consisted of preparatory exercises and sharpened their observational skills. They traced simple shapes and studied the contours and the volume of uncomplicated solid objects and plants. Next, they made their first attempts at copying fragments of the human head. The "real" drawing courses began in the ninth grade, when students attended two one-hour sessions a week, during which they tackled landscapes, animals, and flower drawings. The following year, every two weeks, they faced "artificial" forms including vases, chandeliers, furniture, and architectural ornamentation details. Two year later, in 1855, the Ministry of Public Education published a catalogue of antique models which became incorporated into the drawing program.25 The following year, in 1856, the law implemented a final version of the curriculum. Drawing courses included only one lesson a week in the seventh and eighth grades, and two in the ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth grades.26 In 1868, under the advice of an under commission, the Ministry issued a law which revised and completed all previously published catalogues and drew up a list of all the drawing models to be employed in high schools. These included gradual studies after the great masters, especially Raphael. The law also mandated in the junior and senior high schools two sessions of decorative drawing and drawing of the human figure. As we can see from the above, up until this point the curriculum remained unfocused, though privileging the human form over geometric and decorative subjects. In the wake of the Franco-Prussian war and the Commune, the Third Republic concluded that rebuilding national industries called for a renewed revision of the drawing program. An 1876 government commission designated drawing as a mandatory subject at the primary school level. This obligation, which seemed logical in schools located in the large urban industrial centres where they trained specialised workers,

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appeared to many French official and pedagogues as somewhat ambiguous when implemented in rural schools. Urban grammar schools recruited from among the children of the masses who trained to become metal smiths, stone sculptors, carpenters, masons, and gardeners. Drawing helped them develop a clear and focused mind. The president of the 1876 commission explained that drawing had the same importance to craft as the alphabet had to writing. Farmers, like the urban poor, rarely sent their children to school. They apprenticed them, instead, in low paying professions or with master craftsmen to help contribute to the family income. Those enrolled in rural schools soon left after they learned rudimentary reading, writing, and arithmetic. To demand that they learn to draw seemed to the commission "a dubious, an unconvincing sacrifice, and an illusive vanity."27 In general, the social reconfiguration, as envisioned by the ordre moral, endeavoured to control the social declassés and both the unskilled workers and the recently peasant migrants to the cities. The urban bourgeoisie looked upon the two groups as having an "unsophisticated mentality," unsuited for the disciplinary needs of large industrial enterprises. Because they had incomplete professional training, they were as easily fired as they were hired. According to Mayeur, they often became demoralised and joined forces with anarchists and the labour unions.28 The 1876 commission agreed, in light of this, that to teach the higher principles of beauty to the masses, who could not even appreciate it, would have detrimental consequences. It would provoke "un déclassement deplorable," a social embarrassment for France. The commission compared orienting the masses toward "artistic" careers to injecting them with the "Salon virus." The commission, hence, limited the drawing curriculum to offering the masses the tools with which they could learn to measure, trace, and follow the guidelines of their employers.29 All members of the commission agreed that urban and rural grammar schools should teach geometric drawing for it would benefit students more than drawing the human figure could.30 The commission reached a general agreement that the true goal of the drawing curriculum consisted not in educating the children of peasants and artisans to become artists, but to offer them the skills which could transform them into adept workers, whether in cities or in the countryside. In an initial step, the commission defined the primary task of drawing as familiarising students with exact observation and the reproduction of industrial forms. If they spent time studying the human figure, they would ignore the reproduction of geometric forms, the basic vocabulary of any industry. The arts and crafts which they had to learn should essentially relate to architecture, including wood and metalworking. Architecture-related arts and crafts incorporated the foundation of all

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geometric and linear tracing.31 The program should not be designed to produce artists, but to acquaint students with the forms they would either draw, paint, or carve. The majority of the commission members, additionally, agreed that since all liberal careers required a good grasp of descriptive geometry, the curriculum had to increase the number of the newly designed drawing lessons.32 The 1876 reforms had the task to protect the social hierarchy. Throughout their deliberations, commission members concluded that children from the masses would make up the work force, that high school students, namely children from the aristocracy, should become the future industry managers who would supervise the technical skills of their workers; and that both had the duty "to steer and protect the taste of the nation." The commission, hence, investigated drawing not as "un art d'agrément," an art of leisure, but as an indispensable form of knowledge that had a definite social role.33 In constructing its general argument for achieving this goal, the commission defined drawing as a necessary craft language of reading and writing forms. The program it proposed offered simplified lessons with scaled exercises, which both instructors and their students in the grammar, vocational, and high schools could easily assimilate. The theoretical information and the practical drills varied from one establishment to another, but they all taught three categories, geometric drawing, decorative drawing, and life drawing.34 The first included the tracing of straight and curved lines and their intersections, and listed all the necessary tools needed for the task. The second involved, primarily, the juxtaposition of geometric forms with perpendicular and parallel lines. It also contained the combinations and the repetitions of simple forms and the variety of these combinations with additional ornamental elements borrowed from decorative architecture, including vases, flowers, and leaves as employed by artists in the Middle Ages. Students learned the third category from a model in a special division. They studied how to represent solid objects in space, starting with the simplest forms of cubes and articles with regular and irregular shapes before moving on to books, pottery artefacts, tables, and leaves. At this stage the instructor began explaining fundamentals of perspective to help them better understand the geometrical structure of items in front of their eyes. The commission, additionally, advised all schools to teach drawing and lettering simultaneously, because the two trained the hand to grow dexterous in producing eloquent lines. It also claimed that the new curriculum would guarantee that, upon graduation, the students would have become ready for their career as either skilled craftsmen or foremen. Supplies required by the schools included compasses, rulers, squares, plaster and wood models, chalkboards, and white chalk.35

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It is worth noting that, throughout the debate leading to this decision, the commission carved out a definition of drawing as well as the social role of vocational education. Its members believed that only by propagating a rudimentary vocabulary of visual culture among different social classes could French industries gain strength to stand against international competition.36 I do not wish to over-idealise the reformers' efforts at disseminating "taste" in the grammar, vocational, and high schools, but only to point out that such an endeavour inspired a whole host of novel pedagogical possibilities in France and which, as we might recall from the previous chapters, the Administration of the Moroccan Protectorate incorporated in local Moroccan vocational schools. I will address the importance of drawing and the models employed in Morocco in the following chapter. For the moment we should note that the resolution of the commission and its members could also be understood as an attempt at softening the social frictions between bourgeois employers and their employees37 and that many of their claims had their roots in the ordre moral, the ideology of the Third Republic. The commission members debated these issues for four years (18761880). The minutes of the sessions they held are preserved in the French National Archives in Paris. The deliberation divided the members into two camps. Whereas the first privileged geometric drawing, the second clung to fine art academic training and regarded drawing the human figure as the foundation of any art education. Felix Ravaisson, a strong proponent of life drawing, argued, for example, that the reforms should be grounded in the historical vocation of the French "race." Ravaisson had already participated in the earlier governmental reforms dating back to 1855 and 1868. Under the patronage of the Ministry of Public Education, he published Classiques de l'Art (n.d.), a lithographic and photographic collection of paintings, sculptures, and letterings which he recommended as models in the grammar, vocational, and high school drawing programs.38 Throughout the sessions, he reminded his colleagues that the Ministry had the duty to put into the students’ hands the means with which they could imagine, invent, and sharpen their taste so that France could secure its role as leader of the artistic nations. Ravaisson argued that geometric drawing should not have too much importance, because it represented only one of many components on which ideal beauty rested. He saw in geometric drawing an instrument for scientific illustrations not fine arts and, therefore, did not have to become essential in training future generations of French artists.39 Joining forces with Alexandre Cabanel, a professor at the Paris École Supérieure des Beaux-Arts, a well known Salon artist, twice the winner of the Prix de Rome, and a member of the French Institute, Ravaisson further contested that the study of the human figure gave students a solid drawing substratum and should become the locus of the curriculum.40

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Ravaisson liked to recall that in the Middle Ages a cathedral functioned as an educational site. By surrounding worshippers with a variety of art works--architecture, painting, sculpture, and decorative items—it brought them closer to the tenets of their faith as well as the artistic taste of their period. He responded to his colleagues who claimed that drawing could be learned like writing that no relation existed between the two simply because not everyone in society could write. Instead, anyone could appreciate aesthetically pleasing things, which could educate the eye and the mind to appreciate beauty. This observation led him to deduce that "our first task must be to furnish the schools with beautiful objects, to create around the students an aesthetic atmosphere."41 In the drawing classrooms they should come in contact with the most elegant specimens. Just as they learned the French classical literary texts in the regular courses so, too, they should assimilate the tenets of "Ideal Beauty." "It is the imagination of the people that [we] must target first," a task, which Ravaisson believed, the commission could accomplish in part by familiarising students with classical masterpieces.42 Ravaisson confronted the issue of the type of drawing the curriculum had to implement as a rhetorical issue. He agreed that the theoretical aspect of geometric drawing (the linear projection of an object on a flat surface) and the basic notions of descriptive perspective (the representation of an object from different angles) were necessary for they facilitated a better understanding of the objects’ basic shapes and forms as manifested in space. However, he showed less interest in the mathematical aspects involved in geometric drawing which, because they confused young minds, should belong, rather, in the realm of architecture, not fine arts.43 Teaching drawing "should not be encumbered by too much logic." Neither geometric nor perspectival drawing could alone form the imagination of the artists and their intellect because neither was a science.44 Students who wished to pursue careers in trades had only to learn to represent the basic structure of the objects as they appeared in space. In short, they only had to learn to see their forms better, and did not need an elaborate drawing curriculum as the one designed by the commission. When arguing for the supremacy of life drawing , Ravaisson proposed that a better training of the eye could be acquired by studying the human figure,45 because in it beauty was more apparent and striking than in either geometric or ornamental objects. He conceded that not all students would become artists, but a good number would develop a refined taste, thanks to drawing from the human figure. Just as the general curriculum included the study of works by Virgil and Sophocles, the schools had to exhibit on their walls and in their hallways graphic reproductions of classical paintings and plaster replicas of sculptures, such as those by Raphael and Phidias. In Ravaisson's view the schools had to become

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"sacred temples" to inspire "beauty" by displaying to the gazes of the French youth works that epitomised the manifestation of "grace."46 Ravaisson charged that mandating geometric drawing in the curricula was a recent innovation, which he dated to the Restoration. During this period Charles Dup and M. Pectallozzi, two "eminent géomètres" but "poor artists," affirmed the supremacy of mathematics. The commission had to better structure its guideline, instead, from the lessons of French classical art history and the Greeks. For Ravaisson, the human figure, not unlike a machine, represented an intricate whole which, in order to grasp its complexity, students would have to understand the separate functions of its parts.47 Supporting Ravaisson's arguments, other members reaffirmed that to master the representation of the human figure, students would need not immerse themselves in the study of geometry, since drawing the human figure involved a quasi-mathematical grasp of the relational proportion of its parts, contours, forms, and volumes. This, they rationalised, had become a classical rule which Leonardo da Vinci was the first to point out. Da Vinci, "an artist as much as a scientist," initially advised his contemporaries that, without a careful study of its components, their representation of the human figure would always remain weak.48 Countering Ravaisson's argument, Eugène Guillaume, the Director of the École Supérieure des Beaux-Arts, exhorted his colleague to put aside all theoretical arguments and to think patriotically. He agreed with Ravaisson only in so far that the drawing curriculum must conform to the actual shortage in skilled workers, knowledgeable foremen, and adept workshop managers. He observed that the geometric aspect of drawing had become a science indispensable to any true vocational training for it instilled in students the concept of accuracy. Throughout his interventions, he insisted that geometric drawing comprised a strict grammar with a complete syntax. Any vocational career began with the acquisition of know-how, not by aesthetic appreciations alone. The curriculum must take into consideration the "pressing reality" the nation faced, and should respond to its earthly needs. Drawing, similar to language, should not confuse the minds of the students with minute aesthetic rhetoric, but only teach them the skills with which they could perform their professional tasks.49 To the members who privileged the human figure as the foundation of all drawing, Guillaume reminded them that many contemporary painters and sculptors had vague knowledge of perspective and the mathematical aspect of their work. Artists and craftsmen learned different "habits of accuracy" to gain mastery of their trades.50 Any discussion as regard balance of forms, symmetry, and harmony of lines were based on the same mathematical principles on which geometric drawing rested.

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Taking the portrait as an example, Guillaume explained that any mistake committed by the artist, no matter how small, would be shocking and that, most importantly, the artist could solve it within the framework of a geometry-related vocabulary. This remark led Guillaume to conclude that art and science converged, since any discussion of art or craft involved a scientific knowledge.51 He deplored Ravaisson's definition of geometric drawing as "art d'agrément" and called his attention that Leonardo had also advised his contemporary artists to study perspective as a science, because it would help them fortify their imagination.52 Geometric drawing assisted both the artist and the craftsman to become conscious of the visual configuration of their model, and offered them a precise means with which they could train their eyes to better see. Linear drawing had all the prerequisites, which the pursuit of any science required and should, therefore, take a privileged place at the top of the curriculum.53 Ravaisson and his supporters reduced geometric drawing to representing natural forms of an inferior order. In addition, they accused the interventions of Guillaume and the members who shared his views as attempts to "sacrifice Raphael for the cube."54 Guillaume, on the other hand, condemned drawing the human figure within grammar, vocational, and high schools as a "heresy."55 The issue the commission wrestled with had to do, as he saw it, with designing courses which would teach the students technical procedures of geometric drawing which, by definition, formed the foundation of all types of drawing. Guillaume, nonetheless, agreed with his opponents that the school should excite in the students' minds the noble faculty relating to the appreciation of beauty but, he warned the commission to not accomplish this goal at the cost of an education aimed at strengthening craft and industry. The commission had to design a curriculum which a clientele that had no artistic aptitude could easily assimilate. The reforms, therefore, should not lose sight of the social role of trade education. The schools had to teach not "beauty," but rather "necessary and practical things." To surround children in the schools with classical paintings and sculptures would serve no purpose, but the acquisition of operative skills, on the other hand, would help them cultivate a "higher degree of intelligence" and, at a later date, would assist them in the pursuit of their fine arts aspirations.56 In short, the proposed drawing curriculum, in Guillaume’s view, had to avoid abstract philosophy. Primarily, it had to assist students to represent the most comprehensive forms of object they had to copy. The privileged bourgeoisie could study "Noble Arts" in fine arts schools. Vocational schools, on the other hand, had to form dexterous craftsmen. This, however, did not imply that the learning of crafts did not embody any artistic expression, for the latter existed in all natural forms, not only

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in the representation of the human figure. To defend this view, Guillaume underscored that the Pyramids, which to many represented a simple geometric form, epitomised Egypt's most eloquent monuments. All types of drawings, in general, had mathematical and philosophical underpinnings. Geometric drawing, accordingly, did not result from a philosophical concept, but illustrated also the ability of the artist to depict objects in their absolute truth by the means of lines. Just as people could not appreciate Greek sculpture without a preliminary knowledge of anatomy, so too, they could not appreciate the real value of drawing without having certain concepts about mathematics and geometry, two components which stamped drawing with certitude. Hence, Guillaume inferred that geometric drawing taught the eye to see with precision, and that whether designed for professional fine artists or for craftsmen, it submitted to the same rules which were, by definition, scientific.57

The Means to Visual Training What began as a search for efficient pedagogical principles to help France withstand foreign industrial competition, soon led to what seemed to become a final divide between fine art teaching and vocational training. Painstaking as the debates were, the commission decided to employ in grammar, vocational, and high schools, graphic reproduction, not plaster casts or live model, a decision which staff members of the Paris École Nationale de Dessin et de Mathématique helped the commission reach. In fact, the interventions of the director of this school stressed that to put an uninitiated student "who did not yet know how to sharpen his pencil" in front of a cast or the human figure ran against tradition. He recalled that all great French academician artists, including Jacques Louis David, Paul Delaroche, Baron Gros, Marcel Guérin, J. B. D. Ingres, began their careers by copying from a graphic model and they, likewise, taught their students the same procedure.58 Since the concerned schools oriented their students to trade-related professions, it was, henceforth, more fitting that their curricula should stress geometric, decorative, and industrial drawing. Because in most of these schools "a hundred students or more crowded into a single room," they could not work from a single cast or live model. Graphic models, moreover, would help them acquire dexterous hands to trace delicate lines, necessary components in every decorative art, and they would also become aware of the historical development and stylistic differences of the models they studied.59

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Aimé Millet, a professor at the École, also summed up the strengths of the pedagogical usefulness of the graphic models. He stated that addressing the essential question concerning the choice of the graphic models had equal importance. Not all students could have an easy or a clear visual access to the plaster cast or the live model located in the middle of the classroom. The use of the graphic models would prove more democratic. Instructors could choose these models that better conformed to the age and skills of each student. Millet saw the talent and mental development of the students as crucial issues the commission had to study. Most of them had poor formations and had indefinite vocational aspirations, which necessitated that the drawing curriculum should remain accessible in the form of enjoyable exercises. Despite the case that some might quickly assimilate their lessons, the majority lacked the three fundamentals necessary both in art and craft training, a well developed intelligence, a trained eye, and a dexterous hand, each of which required special education. To ask an uninitiated student to represent on a flat surface a round object, be it a table or plates, was tantamount to asking him to tell a "big lie." The object in space pushed forward and pulled backward at the slightest movement of the eye. Its contours, which the student had to define, became essentially blurred, thus "fugitive," and the student could only represent its form in different tonalities, which at this early stage a young mind could not yet comprehend. To "seize" the form on a flat surface, the student had to abstract both the form of the object and its tonalities in a line which originally did not exist. These sorts of "lies" the best artists spent their lives trying to solve, and which Millet judged as inapplicable in the context of the grammar, vocational, and high schools. On many occasions, Millet remarked, instructors rescued their pupils by borrowing the pencil from their hands and sketching in basic lines depicting the rhythmic forms of the object, hence helping them better understand their assignment.60 The graphic model offered a better solution. Instead of teaching the students to tell a lie, they would learn to tell the truth because they would have to make a drawing very close to the model they had under their eyes. The graphic model had a relation to art similar to that which grammar had with language. To those who accused the schools of creating "machines" instead of "artists," of destroying the students' personal initiative, and of shaping them in a single mould, Millet responded that the graphic model would teach them not only proportion and measurement, but would also give them a glimpse into the style of the artist who produced it.61 The commission seconded the École's recommendations. The graphic models which found their way into the curriculum represented decorative ornamentation by celebrated masters, and which the Ministry of Public Education approved under the advice of the Beaux-Arts High Council.62

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The commission, nevertheless, decided against the use of photographs as models because, as the Prefet de la Seine (the prefect of the Paris Commune) argued, they had detrimental consequences on students’ learning. The Prefet described photography as an "insensitive" and false translation of its subject and, therefore, an unworthy model. Other members, including Cabanel, though they praised the low cost of using photographs, agreed that students should work instead from graphic models which expressed an intelligent interpretation which photography lacked.63 Ravaisson, on the other hand, argued that photography, though still a new invention, had already demonstrated its usefulness, notwithstanding its application as a science in the study of meteorology.64 Graphic models employed in the schools consisted of geometric forms as well as replicas of fragments borrowed from classical architecture and from the works of contemporary decorative sculptors.65 In general the models did not reflect definite aesthetic precepts, but rather highlighted initial principles of measuring. They included cubes, prisms, pyramids, cylinders, and cones, made out of zinc and painted white. An additional series combined these forms in different configurations such as a cylinder and cone, with the cone penetrating the cylinder. Instructors employed these models when initiating students both to free hand drawing and geometric drawing with a ruler, compass, and square.66 In an attempt to offer the students "complete" training, the Ministry of Public Education crowned these reforms by creating, in 1880, a Musée pédagogique in Paris, also known as La Collection du Ministère which the city, a number of the schools, and publishing houses sponsored. Its permanent collection housed an assortment of lithography copied models, and architectural fragments, replicas from the Louvre's antique collections as well as from the École des Beaux-Arts and other regional museums. Casts and graphic models illustrated the drawing curriculum disseminated in the city schools. The museum also displayed the drawing tools and supplies, including compasses, rulers, squares, levels, in short, instruments that fortified the students' eye, and helped them better understand the principles of geometric drawing by comparing proportions and evaluating the inclination of angles.67 The collection fulfilled two objectives. Instructors visiting the Museum from the provinces witnessed and appreciated their "national artistic heritage" and the "high taste" of the French industry-related arts. The museum also encouraged them to emulate the efforts of the Ministry and begin their own collection in their institutions.68 As we shall see in the following chapter the above tenets of geometric drawing would be incorporated, fifty year later, in the vocational curriculum under the Moroccan Protectorate. Similarly, the Paris Musée would serve as a prototype museum for the Protectorate's General Administration of Public Education.

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The Formation of Patriotic Skilled Workers The Third Republic, through its designated Education Committees, planned the entire drawing curriculum in order to supervise most of the regional and municipal schools that included drawing in their curricula. The government did not, however, scrutinise professional training. The French historian, Madelaine Rebérious, has noted that different organisms including industrial societies and chambers of commerce sponsored and advised different schools, transforming vocational training into a joint venture of government and private enterprises.69 The Parisian Trade Chamber, for example, endorsed and become the advisory committee of the Paris School of Decorative Art and Tapestry, created in 1877.70 The Chamber defined its role as inculcating in the students the love of their profession and the appreciation of beauty and harmony, "two of the foundational elements of all industries." Any vocational training had to be based on theories, which the instructors could explain in easy demonstrations with the help of graphic models, chalk, and chalkboard.71 Aware that "Germany, England, Austria, Italy, Spain and Russia...have developed an efficient vocational training," resulting in advanced industries that threatened France's industrial manufacturing exports, members of the Chamber argued that the vocational schools had to "confuse in the [students'] mind the love of their profession with the love of their nation," thus conjoining their professional interest with their sense of patriotism.72 Any true vocational training, therefore, had to rely on the study of ancient styles, since no artistic forms could be invented without the assimilation of "the noblest and the highest of harmonies" of the national artistic heritage. A new definition of labour sprang out of this new pedagogical formulation. The Chamber defined labour as a source of "self-esteem" and personal "bliss." It claimed that no reward could equal the feeling a student had when he became aware that, thanks to his profession, he had contributed to the "grandeur" and the "artistic reputation" of "our praiseworthy mother France."73 As I have already noted, the French, in the modern industrial competitive world, paid serious attention to the attempts their rivals made to dethrone them from their high artistic rank. To secure their industrial future, the French retaliated by defining vocational schools as nationalistic institutions that had the task of providing their industries with patriotic skilled collaborators.74 At the turn of the twentieth century, however, exhibitions of artefacts produced by students demonstrated that both instructors and their pupils did not yet fully assimilate the central points of the previous regulations. A new direction and new reforms had to be found and had to involve not only schools in the capital but also in the provinces. As M. Beaumetz, the State Under-Secretary of the Beaux-Arts

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Administration, observed the preceding changes in the curriculum failed to emphasise the firm connection between industries and the schools. He encouraged industrialists to hire students graduating from vocational schools. On the other hand, he pressed the regional schools of Fine Arts and Decorative Arts to increase the number of students they oriented into industrial, decorative, and applied arts. Beaumetz, in fact, mandated that any art student, in spite of his talent and his personal artistic interests, had to contribute to the development and exigencies of industry in his region.75 The fear of foreign rivalry continued to be the driving force behind the French reforms well into the twentieth century. The need France had for a trained work force increased after World War I when it became clear that the Germans possessed superior war industries, a fact that underpinned the belief that modern war unfolded not only on the war front but also in industrial factories. Faced with the growing industrial threat from Germany, the French improvised in terms of personnel and material. After the Versailles Treaty, they concentrated on rebuilding their war-devastated regions. To catch up with their rivals, they had to manufacture intensely, under the assumption that only a renewed interest in vocational training could strengthen this "patriotic mission." In an effort to redress their weakened economy and save their devalued currency, they increased the cultivation of skilled workers and much needed managing cadres. These efforts lead to a new debate in the early 1920s, which Edmond Labbé, the General Director of Vocational Education, initiated. Labbé claimed that the future reforms should "free vocational training from all fiction in order to make it more real." He championed what he called a "veritable professional formation" of French workers, which would distinguish between a qualified worker and a journey-man who, because he handled only a detail of the entire industrial production process, his job become a form of "machinisme." The qualified worker, on the other hand, had a general professional training, which combined theory and practice. This "total" training allowed him to handle newer tasks that might arise in case his employer, under pressure of international economic competition, might seek to renovate his industry by acquiring newer machines. Labbé begged members of the reform committee not to define vocational schooling as a simple, never-changing mechanical performance. The worker who assimilated the proposed program, Labbé believed, would free himself from what could become life long labour under the old system. The new theoretical formation would enable him to acquire extra skills and, therefore, to change jobs. Labbé, additionally, recommended that apprentices should not be recruited haphazardly for the vocational schools.76

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To alleviate post-war social malaise in France, these reforms also concentrated on uplifting the moral conditions of the workers. To this end reformers shifted the focus of the masses from their social predicament to the Germans, whom they singled out as the cause of the local industrial crisis. Edouard Herriot, Minister of Public Education, for example, capitalised on the stereotypical generalisations, which de Laborde had expressed almost a century earlier, in order to demonise the Germans as being "without a doubt the most repugnant [people] that [ever existed]." The "cruelty, hypocrisy, and dishonesty" they displayed during World War I surpassed those the French endured in the 1870 Franco-Prussian war. Herriot recalled that in the recent war the Germans acted against all human laws of compassion, and behaved instead like Thor, the god of thunder, swinging his massive club and violating all human values. Their race lived in "infamy," specialised in crime, and "perfected the techniques of murder," Herriot declared. Though Frederick Nietzsche, one of their own philosophers, taught them that the victorious must remain virtuous while committing a violent act, the Germans had overlooked honour and sympathy for their victims, two of the most respected rules of war in the modern age. Herriot claimed to have done the Germans justice by revealing their true nature, thieves by vocation who fought only for the spoils of war.77 We might wish to pause here and consider the following. As I pointed out in Chapter One, French scholars attempted to undermine the Moroccan craft industries under the hypothesis that they had no artistic components inherent in French art. The schools, subsequently, exercised an implicit moral judgment. Chapter Five addressed how French colonial women, like their male counterparts, made bold racial judgements about Moroccan women. French racial verdicts against Moroccans, however, drew upon concepts and stereotypical differentiations developed in France vis-à-vis other European nations, as illustrated in de Laborde's overarching racial judgements and Herriot's inflamed attacks against the Germans. To stand up to the German industrial challenge, Herriot also prescribed a law that assured tight coordination between artistic education and vocational training, a "rational collaboration" between fine artists, technicians, and skilled workers, all of whom would draw their inspiration from their artistic heritage.78 Herriot encouraged all industries related to arts and crafts to focus on the different aspects of modern life including building construction, lighting, heating systems, telephone, interior design, furniture, and wooden and metal decoration. After the international financial crisis of 1929 the French increased their efforts at mustering their industrial, craft, and human resources. Two years after the crisis began, French industrial production plummeted by 17.5 %, resulting in a 60 % rise in bankruptcies and 190,000

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unemployed. Four years later, unemployment swelled to 2,000,000.79 New organisations sprouted up to sponsor vocational and industrial schools and Fine Arts institutions alike. Created in 1933, the Fédération des Sociétés Françaises de Propagandes et d'Enseignement Artistique et Technique, grouped nineteen associations and federations of art, craft, and industries. The Fédération held competitions for exhibition entries and created an extensive network with numerous public powers, the press, and trade chambers in order to strengthen the collaboration between art and craft establishments and industrialists. The Fédération pledged to protect French artistic traditions and to diffuse their principles and intellectual ideas in France and its colonies. Only by doing so, the Fédération believed, could it defend the interest of French industries in the metropole and the Empire.80 The causes of the decline of national industries resided in the negative propaganda engaged in by foreign countries to strip France of its long held artistic prestige. The Fédération strove, consequently, to support the endeavour of French crafts to continue their traditional evolution to the exclusion of all pastiche and foreign influences. It underlined that artists should not create masterpieces in painting and sculpture alone, but should also design and manufacture aesthetically pleasing utilitarian objects.81 When the 1937 Éxposition des Arts Décoratifs opened, the Fédération created in Paris an Institut de Recherche et de Coordination Artistiques et Technique (an Institute of Art and Technical Research and Coordination) which investigated the artistic and technical problems faced by modern French society. Furthermore, it ushered in patriotic arts and crafts, which resulted from a tight collaboration between industrialists, artists, technicians, and skilled workers.82 The theme of the 1937 Paris Éxposition laid bare to French citizens the new role arts, crafts, and industry had to play in modern life. As explained by Labbé, now the Éxposition General Commissioner, the event sought to help the French understand that social progress could only result from the fusion of multiple components to uphold the artistic heritage of the nation--the same message which the 1910 and the 1925 Éxpositions issued, but to no great effect. The 1937 Éxposition sent its visitors a clear moral message, pointing out that in the modern age the country had to rely on its own material resources and artistic talents and should exact a strong partnership between artists, craftsmen, and industrialists. The new industry and manufacturing power had to endow "even the most humble and utilitarian articles, including furniture and clothes, with beauty." By definition, industrial objects had to have functional purposes and had to please aesthetically.83 The Éxposition organisers also warned that mass production threatened to corrupt the national taste. In Labbé's words, industrially pro-

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duced practical items had to respect traditional forms and not respond merely to market demands. National artistic taste should not remain on the margins of existence, but should target every aspect of daily life, because when arts and crafts detached themselves from daily life, they immediately lost their true goal, their "human aspect" and their "nobleness," all of which a sound training in drawing could bring into focus. 84 As Albert Laprade, General Inspector of Art Education had observed, a sound drawing also buttressed industrial enterprises. He pointed out that while developing their national industries, the Germans, Italians, and Americans made drawing their utmost concern. In establishing the ground for new reforms throughout the 1930s and 1940s, he defined drawing as the primary principle and the essential tool with which artists and craftsmen conceptualised and worked. Just as industries could never survive without the designers of new forms so, too, the invention of these forms could never become socially justified without a solid foundation in drawing.85 France, Laprade surmised, had to further develop drawing programs it implemented in its grammar and high schools. We might wish to note at this conjunction that, in 1914, Hubert Lyautey and Henri Prost, Lyautey's chief urbanist, while in the process of developing the villes nouvelles of Casablanca and Rabat, summoned Laprade, an urbanist by training. Laprade had assisted Prost in designing new medinas for the growing Muslim population in Casablanca, Rabat, Fez, Meknes, and Marrakesh.86 His reforms of the vocational training in France included, in part, the foundational concepts which the French authorities implemented in the Moroccan Protectorate, as discussed throughout this book. As was the case in Morocco, in France Laprade fought for the regionalisation of vocational schools. Each establishment had to focus on the industrial needs of the city and the region in which it functioned. Laprade argued, in fact, that while Paris had become the major industrial centre and monopolised major industry-related crafts and had an elite of designers and promoters of good taste, the provinces stagnated for more than a half a century on the margin of any significant attempts to fulfil their national mission. Though certain schools met the challenge, as did those in Valenciennes, Cambrai, Macon Auzerre, St. Etienne, and Grenoble, schools in other regions could not find able directors and instructors. Laprade's reforms increased the regionalisation of these institutions and under his recommendation Paris limited its speciality to textiles, brass and silverware, and wall paper, while Nancy focused on the silk industry, faience, graphic arts, ceramics, and glassworks; Lille on textiles, the marble industry, graphic arts, and metal working; Lyon on silk, graphic arts, and furniture; St. Etienne on the ribbon industry; Limoge on porcelain and shoe manufacturing; and Aubusson on tapestries. Simultaneously, Laprade called for developing an adequate

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curriculum, which would take into consideration the special character of each school, and insisted that it had to include theoretical as well as practical courses.87 These reforms emphasised the real principle of vocational training as consisting predominantly in teaching students to memorise the theoretical concepts and the practical methods they studied. That is, once on the job site, in the workshop, or in a factory, the young worker had to rely on his memory and had to have the ability to visually recall his skills--a concept that, as the following chapter will show, the French developed during this same period in the Moroccan vocational schools. To help students in France strengthen their visual memory, Pierre Olmer, an architect, a painter, and perspective professor at the École Supérieure des Beaux-Arts, designed a drawing program, which underscored both the age and the skills of students. He based his instructions on methodical and gradual exercises, which the grammar, vocational, and high schools soon integrated into their curricula. The courses liberated drawing from the margins of general education, transforming it into a "valid universal language" of forms, structures, proportions, light effects, and colours. Though the memory drawing exercises kept the recreational aspect of drawing, they no longer relied on ready-made recipes, but channelled students, instead, into a vocational career. Olmer's input integrated Horace Lecoq de Boisbaudran's recommendations of drawing from memory, which the latter developed in the 1860s, and which I will discuss at length in the following chapter. First students produced drawings from cast or graphic models then they recalled and drew them from memory from a different vantage point. After completing the memory drawing, they confronted the "real object" in order to correct the one they produced from direct observation. Instructors chose and composed these drills based on the age and the experience of the students, orchestrating these assignments as exciting and imaginative work. When the confidence of the students increased, the instructors widened the scope of the tasks and asked them to train their memory outside the school by observing street or family scenes. In class, they recalled that which they had explored, translating it on the flat surface of the paper. In critiquing the work, Olmer advised the instructors to refrain from pointing out the irreparable mistakes and limit their interventions to pinpointing the positive traits of the drawings,88 a strategy which, as we shall learn in Chapter Eight, instructors in the Open Workshops in Morocco would emulate. The following chapter concerns the theoretical premise of the drawing program in the Moroccan Protectorate.

CHAPTER SEVEN: DRAWING AS AN APPARATUS OF EXPLOITATION

In the vocational schools of the Protectorate the General Administration of Public Education conceived a drawing curriculum for Moroccan students who showed clear "artistic" and craft aspirations. The program combined theoretical and practical courses and, at its core, relied on arguments developed in France regarding the usefulness of drawing. A parallel debate evolved in Morocco and involved a wide range of colonial educators and administrators. Both groups focused mainly on the necessity of designing lessons that could develop in the mind of the young students a keen sense of observation, taste, and dexterity, leaving out all arguments concerning drawing as expression of fine art. Participants in the debate believed that drawing had to assist students to "avoir le compas dans l'oeil"; that is, to train their eyes to become tools of measuring as exact as a compass.1 Once they assimilated these drills, they would learn to see and to observe in order to understand the shapes and forms of items they had to reproduce. A drawing classroom became by definition a workshop of manual works in which scaled exercises enhanced the dexterity and visual memory of the students.

Cultivating the Moroccans' Inclination for Craft The French claimed that Moroccan craftsmen produced mediocre artefacts because they ignored the fundamental precepts of drawing. As M. Pillet, an architect at the Marrakesh Fine Arts Service, noted in 1916, the uninspired talent of the local workers resulted from their weak knowledge of geometrical drawing as well as from the rarity of drawing supplies, including paper and tracing appliances.2 Though in old craft centres, such as those in Fez, there existed a few master potters and wood decora-

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tors who had steady and adroit hands and could draw flawlessly, the younger generation disdained the crafts their ancestors practiced and could not even "fill a colour between two lines."3 Relying on such reports, the General Administration of Public Education decided that, to assist the French authorities in mustering Moroccan craft resources, it had to implement drawing in the curriculum of the trade schools so that the new generation could acquire deft hands and sharp eyes. The new curricula underscored dexterity as a natural outcome of slowly copying authentic models or their graphic and photographic representations published in book form. Such collections, Pillet explained, would preserve and elucidate traditional industries. He also advised the General Administration against allowing Moroccan students to carelessly consult or copy European or Middle Eastern, including Egyptian, Syrian, and Persian designs and models. They should study instead the monuments in their medinas, including palace facades, stucco and plaster sculptures of the madrassas, from which the General Administration could undoubtedly create comprehensive drawing courses.4 Pillet's recommendation would lend support to the General Administration in its attempt to "indigenise" vocational curriculum, thus shielding it from any foreign influence just as it had restrained Moroccan craftsmen from incorporating new forms other than those dictated by French officials. In Chapter One I mentioned that in defining Moroccan crafts, the French legitimised subsequent reforms that improved the Moroccan industrial sector. This chapter will show that the reforms of the vocational schools included both a renewal in the pre-Protectorate precepts of vocational pedagogy as well as a renovation of the tools artisans employed. Before 1912, they used simple implements which they manufactured locally from wood, metal and iron wire, constituting what Le Tourneau called instruments of "little precision." Potters, for example, utilised simple bamboo sticks to trace their designs. Only a small number of carpenters, shoemakers, and leather manufacturers imported cardboard cut-out patterns from Europe to outline their models. Le Tourneau, as opposed to Pillet, argued that the dexterity the craftsmen had made up for the absence of fancy supplies and that, on many occasions, they perfected the craft they practiced. Le Tourneau, nevertheless, reiterated similar claims made by other French scholars when he declared that Moroccan urban crafts had their origin in Tunisia and Andalusia. Once in Morocco, they progressed very little, if any, thus preserving their timeless "fixity." He condemned Moroccans for failing to innovate and for becoming content with producing mere âbatardissement, hybridisation of original models. In his judgement, the "perfection of automatic movements" the craftsmen acquired from the traditional workshops obstructed all true invention and renewal of forms and designs. They also

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shied away from learning a movement or a group of movements they deemed too difficult. They trusted their memory instead, and overlooked the value of putting to use textual or graphic documentation of artefacts they manufactured.5 French scholars also claimed that Moroccan craftsmen worked very little, and only for instant gain. They explained this laziness as intrinsic to the hot climate of the country, which inherently defined how and what the 7.1

craftsmen produced. When embellishing their architectural monuments, for example, they disliked hard materials, including marble, which they replaced with soft stones and plaster. Tranchant de Lunel, at one time Head of the Department of Fine Arts, Historical Monuments, and Antiquities, defined the work of fine artists as the moulding of nature through their vision. Though artisans also stamped every formal aspect of their works, their structures, forms as well as lines and colours, they only delivered utilitarian items. Though de Lunel deployed this binary opposition, he conceded that in civilisations

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with a developed artistic sense, namely Greece and the West, the artistic value of both fine art works and functional objects resulted from the ability of the artists and craftsmen to bend the material they worked with to fit their own fancies. Islam, which de Lunel defined as a culture, a people, and a civilisation, produced artefacts, not fine art works, that had but an insignificant artistic quality. He concluded by claiming that in Islamic Morocco, craftsmen fashioned nature through "instinct," not through any sound creativity.6 Only their talent to memorise craft procedures, not their ability to assimilate new concepts or create new forms, redeemed Moroccan craftsmen in the eye of the French scholars. Numerous examples testify to how the French commended the powerful memory Moroccans had. As French historian, Yvette Katan observed as late as 1945 regarding reforms that allowed Moroccan Muslims graduating from grammar schools to enrol in high schools originally built for the French, many French teachers remarked that they were good students not because they were intelligent, but because they could commit lessons to their memory. Teachers explained that they cultivated this skill in the msids which they attended at an early age and where they learned to memorise long Koranic verses.7 For Gaston Loth, the first General Director of Public Education, this faculty persisted unbroken throughout the

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ages and helped local craftsmen, "the prodigal sons of Andalusia," to thrive in Morocco.8 Consider also the following example of the eleven year old Abdelhadi Bennani, a student at the Fez grammar Franco-Arab School, as reported in 1917 by Alfred de Tarde, the Fez Grammar Education Inspector. On a drawing assignment, Bennani attempted to faithfully depict a still life containing a bouquet of flowers in front of him but soon grew impatient. On the same page, Bennani reproduced in a second drawing, not a realistic representation as the assignment required, but what "he truly saw." De Tarde considered the second work as an outstanding example of the Moroccan "artistic" ingenuity. Employing yellow, green, orange, and brown pencils, Bennani traced a "lavish" mashmoom (a bouquet in Moroccan Arabic). De Tarde explained that under the gaze of this Fassi child, the "real" flower arrangement disappeared, allowing a "distorted," yet "highly stylised reconfiguration" to emerge, an image that recalled, in its sinuous and arabesque lines and colours, the local decorative painted doors and carved plaster.9 (figs. 7.1-3). In describing Bennani's drawing, de Tarde paraphrased arguments French scholars made about the absence of style in Moroccan crafts. De Tarde defined "Style" in the Western sense as the "personal," "spontaneous," and "quasi-unconscious deformation" which an artist imposed on nature. Bennani, on the other hand, acquired this "unnaturalness" not through a personal effort, but from being in close contact with the ancient embellished surfaces of his environment. De Tarde, in fact, stretched his argument further, asserting that in its conception, Bennani's depiction summarised the entire theoretical premises that governed Moroccan decorative arts and crafts. In a sweeping move, he saw in this drawing the embodiment of some of the major architectural decorative masterpieces in Fez. Not unlike the carved plaster walls and the columns of Bou`naniya and `Attarine, two of the famed madrassas in this city, Bennani's interpretation rebuked all that was real and representational. And like these historical masterworks his stylistic rendition evolved not from critical research but from his willingness to embrace, in his own manner, the concrete world while rejecting all rules underpinning "rational" or realist representation. In his veins lived an old craft tradition, the origins of which de Tarde could easily trace to the Moroccan Marinid Dynasty (1258-1420).10 While generalising from the drawing by Bennani de Tarde underscored the fact that, instead of studying nature, local craftsmen relied on the "amusement de l'esprit"--a concept which, as we will see in the following chapter, two French women would develop further in an attempt to reach larger groups of unschooled Moroccan children in the shantytowns and dis-

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tant rural villages. Instead of style, Bennani had "intuition," which de Tarde defined as his ability to bend nature to his "unconscious" and "whimsical fancies," taking advantage of "happy accidents." Moroccan craftsmen likewise did not "create," but simply transcribed that which their ancestors had "hereditarily transmitted" to them. After underpinning these remarks as "cultural facts," de Tarde exposed his thesis which we can summarise briefly in the following. "Protectors" of Morocco, the French had two obligations. As part of their civilising mission they had to collect, shield, and fortify Moroccan traditional craft industries, all of which engendered a wide range of classifications and differentiations which I have already discussed in the previous chapters. "Artistes," and "guides artistiques," they had to form and educate a new generation of craftsmen by establishing "un risorgimento artistique," or an artistic revival of the local crafts.11 Though several craft centres still existed, craftsmen had, by the time of the establishment of the Protectorate, forgotten the artistic and instructive principles on which they had created ancient masterpieces for centuries. Hence, de Tarde argued that the French had the duty to introduce and strengthen a new artistic pedagogy in the Protectorate. We might wish to recall that several bodies collaborated in this task, including the Native Crafts Service, its Regional Inspectors, and French directors and instructors of both genders in the vocational schools. They collected rare original artefacts and helped Moroccans "rediscover" their artistic heritage by displaying and teaching them to copy these "authentic" models. The schools, on the other hand, thanks to a contrived program, trained a new generation of craftsmen. In what fellows I shall investigate the curriculum of these institutions and the manner in which they underscored geometric drawing as their backbone. As early as grammar school, Moroccan students took courses with practical exercises and learned the preliminary notions of different crafts. As noted in Chapters Three and Four, grammar schools included pre-training divisions that familiarised young students with craft methods and encouraged them to choose a trade they would likely pursue in vocational establishments. The operative drills drew their main pedagogical character from those practiced in grammar schools in France. In general, they complemented beginning arithmetic, the metric measuring system, and elementary geometry, all of which illustrated the natural sciences courses, which reflected the immediate environment of the Moroccan students. The General Administration of Public Education saw to it that the program proved cost efficient in order to facilitate its integration into every grammar school. In pre-training practical courses younger students worked with paper, cardboard, thin sheets of wood, glue, scissors, knives, brushes, hammers, nails, metal wires, pliers, and empty fish cans. They also learned the rudimentary notions of measuring by comparing the length, height, width,

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surface, volume, weight, and colour of different objects, as well as sharpening pencils and manipulating screwdrivers of different sizes. A quick look at the nature of the exercises informs us of their richness and applicability to Moroccan crafts. The tasks ranged in a gradual scale and included drilling round and square holes in wood and stone with bits and chisels; preparing glue; gluing pieces of wood together; mounting a shelf to a wall; building small chairs; loosening broken screws; constructing simple grids with wires; binding a book with paper and leather; building picture frames; packaging fragile objects; gluing broken pieces of glass and mosaics together; cutting pieces of wood to patterned shapes which they fitted into Moroccan mosaics; and preparing mortar and filling holes of different depths and sizes.12 After having assimilated these simple activities older students progressed to complicated projects. They handled and sharpened different types of saws; removed a window glass then refitted it with putty; prepared different water and oil based paints; painted different objects in a variety of colours and shades; painted inscriptions in different lettering styles; and studied soldering. As a third step, they learned the basics of moulding with clay and copying different craft designs, as well as cutting tile pieces and composing mosaics. By the time these students enrolled in a vocational school, they would, therefore, have had absorbed a myriad of basic manual training. Pre-training divisions in each vocational school endowed these preliminary exercises with an "original character," which reflected the immediate surroundings of the students, a concept which, as the following chapter demonstrates, formed the core of the pedagogical tenets of the Open Workshops. It also should be noted that the General Administration of Public Education incorporated a number of the precepts of the drawing programs developed in France (see the previous chapter), judging that drawing had to become an essential ingredient in training Moroccan workers and craftsmen. Drawing, hence, held a central position in the curriculum of any vocational school in the Protectorate under the principle that, before manufacturing or helping in the construction of an object, Moroccan craftsmen and skilled workers should have the necessary expertise to depict the object in a geometric representation.13 The artistic risorgimento which de Tarde required the French authorities to establish also meant reviving the importance of drawing methods. Mme Cleeman, the drawing instructor in the Fez high school, argued that drawing, though not a true science, nevertheless, helped the apprentices become conscious of their natural skills.14 By the early 1930s a number of French officials in the General Administration, however, mandated that to implement in the Protectorate the same drawing curricula as those employed in France would have detrimental consequences on the authenticity of

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Moroccan crafts. The officials feared that, to do so, would encourage Moroccans to adopt Western artistic formulas which would disrupt the "artistic charm" that generally "characterised their race" and "ancient civilisation."15 M. Gabriel-Rousseau, a painter by vocation, held the office of Inspector of Native Crafts Service in Marrakesh before becoming the General Inspector of Vocational Education and of Drawing. He lectured widely in the Protectorate on harmony and the contrast of colours and published numerous handbooks, some of which became "bibles" of vocational educa-

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tion throughout the country.16 After numerous inspections of schools and extensive examinations of the drawing curricula, he authored manuals based on what he called "universal principles of descriptive geometry." He assured the General Administration that his textbooks conformed to the principles of Moroccan decorative designs. The reference books would, moreover, make the students aware of their "splendid" arts and display to them the "magnificent" replicas and reproductions of their inherited masterpieces, encouraging them to revere craft as noble professions.17 Gabriel-Rousseau's books consisted of gradual graphic exercises. First, the students traced straight lines, angles, and triangles followed by quadrilateral lines and circles. By manipulating these basic lines and circles, they then constructed the fundamental grids on which they could base any geometric and decorative Moroccan design. At the second level, they obtained different polygonal shapes by juxtaposing circles, straight, and curved lines (figs. 7.4-8). Drawing from the model followed, as in France, though in a restricted manner. It consisted of copying Moroccan craft objects, which instructors chose from the students' environment. Advanced students tackled ornamental compositions by copying and then stylising local flowers and plants. Gabriel-Rousseau firmly believer in the concept of Memory Drawing as articulated in France by Horace Lecoq de Boisbaudran almost a century earlier, and which I mentioned in the preceding chapter. Gabriel-Rousseau advised that students should learn to memorise the different variations of the geometrical configurations they previously grasped, as well as the models they copied. In 1862 Lecoq de Boisbaudran, Director of the Paris École Royale et Spéciale du Dessin (later known as the École des Arts Décoratifs), wrote and applied in this and other art schools his famous manual, the basic principles of which French education officials integrated in vocational and technical schools as official curriculum, beginning in the 1880s.18 Lecoq de Boisbaudran defined drawing as the essence of all arts and underscored line as the simple, yet key element of drawing, and as better fit for any kind of contoured representation. An artist could cultivate his drawing skills by training his memory to visually recall models he had already drawn. To prove this claim, Lecoq de Boisbaudran stated that many international artists, painters and sculptors representing a wide spectrum of schools, benefited from having a strong visual memory, including Honoré Daumier, Katsushika Hokusai, Henri FantinLatour, Jean François Millet, Auguste Rodin, Joseph Mallord Williams Turner, Horace Vernet, James Whistler, and others.19 In his book, Lecoq de Boisbaudran demonstrated, through a series of exercises, that artists could amplify their memory by training their mind to register distinct visual impressions, which their eye received from the model. In other words, the ability to visually recall resembled other observations, which the mind sustained for a period of time.20 Using Lecoq de Boisbaudran's book as a guide, Gabriel-Rousseau

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explained that Moroccan students in the vocational schools could cultivate this faculty through simple and gradual procedures until this exercise became an intellectual aptitude. Any drawing executed from memory should, therefore, replicate closely the object or the graphic model on which the act of the memory recalling was based. For Gabriel-Rousseau, the rules of drawing paralleled those that governed lettering and writing, a point that also echoed a number of arguments reformers in France struggled with in the second half of the nineteenth-century. Gabriel-Rousseau argued that any Moroccan craftsman aiming at perfecting his skills had to have a

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polished memory. Just as a writer had to master grammatical rules and had to have a sound vocabulary prior to composing an essay, a craftsman, before undertaking a decorative composition, likewise, had to train his eyes and hand so that he could master the "science" of measuring proportions and of figuring out the internal structures of forms. In his book Gabriel-Rousseau designed exercises analogous to those employed in the general curriculum. Reiterating Lecoq de Boisbaudran's remark that just as grammar or high school students committed a text to memory by reading it aloud a number of times, Gabriel-Rousseau insisted that apprentices in vocational schools should draw and redraw models on paper and should recall numerous times their proportions, shapes, and forms in their minds until they could faithfully reproduce them on their own.21 As an initial exercise Gabriel-Rousseau recommended that students traced from memory different simple lines which they had already studied, pinpointing their different lengths. These drills progressed into complex graphic geometrical configurations and later incorporated solid articles with irregular shapes. While attempting to consign the graphic model or the physical object to memory, instructors would advise their pupils to contemplate the item placed in the middle of the classroom and draw it in space with their fingers, comparing its surfaces and planes and choosing one of these two components as a measuring unit that served to establish a "scientific" proportional relation between the object's shape, height, width, and depth. As the assignments became difficult and students gained confidence, the time they spent drawing from the model or visualising from memory decreased.22 It is important at this point to note that the General Administration of Public Education sufficiently changed the curriculum developed in France to incorporate elements with which Moroccan apprentices had familiarised themselves from their surroundings. Different French drawing instructors in the Protectorate transformed the metropolitan scheme so that it did not look foreign to Moroccan eyes. Through subtle pedagogical changes, the French "original" program ended up being "Moroccanised" in terms of the subjects of its lessons and the structure of its exercises. The General Administration also advised the instructors not to base their lessons on lengthy oral explanations, but on accessible drawing demonstrations.23 And as in France, the General Administration encouraged French and European employers and factory foremen in the Protectorate to themselves study drawing so that they would have a sufficient knowledge with which to explain, comment, and graphically illustrate to their employees the project they wished them to manufacture.24 As noted earlier, educators employed predominantly illustrated texts by French scholars in order to construct the needed drawing courses for the vocational schools. In composing his 1928 manual of drawing M. Chenail, instructor at the school for Moroccan notables in Casablanca, for example, inserted illustrations from Pour comprendre l'art musulman dans l'Afrique du Nord et en

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Espagne, a book Prosper Ricard had published four year earlier, in 1924. Chenail called his textbook a "moral call," thereby enticing his colleagues to use it. The General Administration printed and distributed 200 copies to grammar and vocational schools throughout the country. Chenail constructed the lessons in a "rational" manner that evolved in a lucid, step-by-step method. The concept of the gradual procedure, hence, lent itself to manipulation by the different schools to better fit their individual objectives.25 Chenail's manual left out the cumbersome titles of the original designs illustrating Ricard's book as well as "unwarranted descriptions," which Chenail substituted with a series of gradual demonstrations (compare figs. 7.9,10; 7.11,12; 7.13,14,15). The manual consisted of a total of 58 plates, or a total of 131 drawings, which he organised in 12 sections based on the subject each illustrated. Lessons addressed basic interlocking chains, bows, and knots (14 drawings); checkerboards with simple geometric elements (26 drawings); octagonals (8 drawings); derivatives of octagonal stars (12 drawings); trigonometric networks (4 drawings); arches (6 drawings); decorative leaves and flowers (28 drawings); decorative palm-trees and their leaves (3 drawings); decorative shells (3 drawings); spirals and intertwined laceries (8 drawings); intertwined polygons (6 drawings); and epigrams (13 drawings).26 In the mid-1940s M. Bourry, a colleague of Chenail and instructor at the same school, published a similar manual. Unlike Chenail, however, Bourry kept the original names of the designs he borrowed from local brass and silver decorated kitchenware, carpet, and other motifs, pinpointing that in his book the students would find recognisable designs and their original titles, a fact he hoped would persuade them to contemplate and trace familiar patterns. Bourry went a step further in encouraging them to take up drawing by stimulating them to freely fill in with colours the shapes of the designs.27 In an attempt to motivate Louis Brunot, General Inspector of the Native Education Bureau, to intervene with the General Administration so that it publish the manual by Bourry, the Casablanca school director compared the task the school had in developing the "artistic" talents of the apprentices to music education. The school, he explained, had to focus on teaching them the "solfege," or the reading of musical notes, and not to form music virtuosos. Bourry's proposition, not unlike Chenail’s, offered them an "elementary theory" of their traditional crafts with which, the director revealed, they could acquire a "concentric and systemised learning." In an administrative note, he assured Brunot that the method Bourry designed "would harness" the "natural instinct" Moroccan children had toward drawing and craft to "become incontestably useful" to the plan the French authorities had for modernising their craft industries.28 Drawing also proved an impeccable method with which the schools

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controlled feminine craft production. French female instructors in the women's vocational schools had their apprentices first trace the motifs of the embroidery and carpets they manufactured, subsequently creating graphic guidebooks for the workshops (figs. 7.16-19). Once advanced students graduated and returned to their homes or created individual workshops to teach their craft, they continued to consult the repertoire indexes kept in the school, thus yielding their trade to close supervision and control by the director and instructors.29

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The General Administration additionally employed documentary films as a complementary device with which it further harnessed the "natural predisposition" Moroccans had toward crafts. The schools' directors invited students and parents to watch a number of these films relating to the professions the children had begun to learn. In the early 1930s the General Administration, for example, projected throughout the Protectorate Charronnage, a documentary about cartwrights, craftsmen who built or repaired twowheeled carts farmers employed for rough work

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and attached to a beast of burden or a tractor. The General Administration explained that this particular film would show students and parents the safety guidelines for handling modern machines. Parents also learned that the early natural tendencies their offspring expressed for a specific craft, their physical strength, and their ability to handle heavy equipment, all determined their vocational aptitudes. The film emphasised that regular visits to factories, which the General Administration organised during the pre-training period in the grammar schools, constituted a pedagogical process that helped the young decide the craft they wished to practice.30 The real message of this particular documentary relied, however, on demonstrating to both students and their parents that they had to think of the construction or repair of carts as a genuine trade. In the mid 1930s the Protectorate Administration integrated divisions of cart building into the curriculum of the rural vocational schools located in the large agricultural centres. The General Administration believed that future Moroccan cartwrights would fulfil the demands of the swelling number of French colonists settling in rural areas and bringing with them an increased number of automobiles, carts, and tractors, a fact that encouraged Moroccan carpenters and ironsmiths to abandon their traditional crafts and became pseudo-cartwright repairmen. Because most of them practiced this trade, to a large extent, as "bricoleurs," and "handymen," Charronnage expedited the message that a true master cartwright needed to have "the physical strength of an ironsmith and the dexterity of a carpenter both of whom used their eyes as a measuring tool." Above all the documentary drove home the point that the work of fitting wheels also required mastery of drawing and of tracing. The educative role of the film rested in convincing apprentices in the metal and wood workshops that they should respect cart repair as a technical profession and that they had a definite role to perform in the colonial society.31

The Formation of the Teaching Personnel The teaching staff in the vocational schools graduated from the Ferme Blanche, the industrial and agricultural school in Casablanca, where they acquired a "solid theoretical" and "practical knowledge" of the crafts they had to teach. As the Bulletin de l'Enseignement Public, the organ of the General Administration of Public Education put it, their erudition enabled them "to master their task and not become overwhelmed by it."32 The instructors, however, did not need to have expertise of the crafts they taught, because they could rely on and consult Moroccan master craftsmen and ma`almat who assisted them. The basic

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proficiency they had, nevertheless, allowed them to ground the traditional teaching methods of their assistants in solid pedagogical precepts. Instructors also sharpened their managerial skills by visiting different locations that specialised in the crafts they taught, including workshops of the Moroccan master craftsmen and ma`almat in the medinas as well as building construction sites in the European settlements. As the Bulletin specified, "the souq [market],

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the workshops, and [French] factories had become libraries" that informed them about the general conditions of labour, the future of the crafts, the market demands, as well as the psychology of the Moroccan workers. From these empirical notions they fashioned, a "rational if not a scientific knowledge" about local labour force and mode of production.33 Moroccan master craftsmen and ma`almat assistants, on the other hand, being culturally closer to the apprentices, instilled in the students the love and respect of the crafts they studied. Candidates applying for teaching jobs had to have French nationality in accordance with the regulations of the Protectorate Immigration Bureau. The General Administration gave special consideration to applications sent by daughters of the vieux marocains (senior colonists and early settlers), members of large families, children of army veterans and civil servants and of army officials who died for the "Moroccan cause" (none other than the early French invasion in 1912 and the war involving the pacification of Berber dissident regions in the Atlas mountains that lasted until 1934), widows in general, and particularly those who had lost their husbands in World War I, and mothers of large families. Candidates had to present documents from the French police headquarters or the Municipality to justify their claims. Additionally, they had to pass an examination to prove their mastery of Moroccan Arabic.34 During the exam sessions, Moroccan crafts became the objects of social, cultural and linguistic definitions and redefinitions. The General Administration of Public Education held these sessions for male and female instructors in Rabat. Tests for either gender did not differ substantially as regards basic theoretical and practical knowledge. Let us look at those designed for future female instructors. In the practical section, applicants executed a Rabat embroidery detail from a graphic model and a detail from an actual embroidered Salé piece and chose to draw, from memory, an additional detail of either a Rabat or a Fez carpet design. Then they sewed a French dress or jacket. During the oral examination they had to explain the major compositions involved in different types of Salé and Rabat embroideries; to discuss the basic composition of the Rabat classical carpet and provide the names of its principal traditional motifs; and to address the color harmonies used in both Rabat and Salé embroideries and carpets. A commission comprised of Rabat educators and officials from the Municipality decided the nature and duration of the tests. The General Administration deemed this "comprehensive" examination as "proof" of the "total" formation of the instructors, claiming that it ensured that they could successfully manage in the medinas and in distant rural centres the schools which the Protectorate Administration contemplated to install.35 As noted in Chapter Five, a French woman instructor and a

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Moroccan ma'alma ran individual workshops. The female director paid skilled young Moroccan women in order to maintain the production quota. French auxiliary assistants helped the instructors (fig. 7.20). As a rule the number of these assistants did not exceed half the number of the total personnel. Assistants had to demonstrate a good understanding of the craft taught at the school as well as other manual works, which the instructors might not have fully assimilated. Brunot explained that when the vocational curriculum would evolve to include courses that did not necessary relate to craft, including hand and machine sewing, knitting, crochet, and drawing, the assistants would have to take on the additional load.36 As late as 1928 the General Administration had only three French assistants who had the sufficient pedagogical skill to teach and the technical expertise to weave a carpet from a cartoon design. This shortage of skilled staff explains the difficulty the General Administration faced in recruiting welltrained personnel. To rectify this scarcity, Brunot insisted that a newly hired assistant had to learn the crafts she did not yet master "if she wished to keep her job." The assistant candidate eventually spent an undefined period with no pay in learning and refining her talent of embroidery and carpet weaving, the two major crafts taught in the women's vocational schools. Three months later the director of the school sent an initial brief to the Regional Grammar School Inspector indicating the aptitude of the new trainee, and expressing her desire to retain or terminate her. The report underscored "not only [the trainee's] technical [skills] and cognisance of the Moroccan crafts but, most importantly, her social skills [when dealing with Moroccans], the depth she had acquired of their mentality, as well as the contribution she had made in furthering the moral role the school had to play" in the Moroccan feminine milieu. Only after she fulfilled this first task, would she spend another unlimited period of training during which she received a small subsidy.37 When she excelled in the technical aspects of the two major crafts, the Regional Inspector permitted her to be examined by a commission of experts in Rabat. The tests did not differ much from those designed for the instructors except in intensity and detail. She embroidered and wove two fragments of a specific embroidery and carpet type from either actual pieces or graphic models, and drew a design of embroidery and carpet from memory. She also answered questions relating to different local techniques, compositional structure and colours found in such items, and critiqued two unfinished embroidery and carpet projects (figs. 7.21-30). Those who succeeded in passing these exams received then, "if the budget allowed," a wage of a professional skilled worker. Brunot justified these strenuous measures by stating that, in acting in this manner, the General Administration of Public Education placed the French female professional labour force under the same conditions of formation and surveillance

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as their male colleagues for, "though we might, indeed, have less assistants, we are nevertheless making sure to recruit only individuals who are truly competitive and truly useful."38

Museums, Exhibitions, and the Arrival of Moroccan Crafts on the International Scene Just as the French authorities used plural mechanisms to develop Moroccan society for increased control by harnessing traditional industries, they also prepared the Moroccan visual heritage for commodification and marketing. As I argued earlier, one of the major tasks of French colonial culture as regards our present topic consisted in claiming, renaming, and cataloguing Moroccan craft productions, a project that launched a period of "authentification" through ethnographic and archaeological recoveries, cultural identification, and visual categorisations. These projects buttressed the political agenda of increased exploitation, though this exploitation may not necessarily always have been commercial. The search to authenticate Moroccan crafts culminated in the creation of a series of museums. By the early 1930s, under the recommendations of Prosper Ricard, now Director of Fine Arts, Historical Monuments, and Antiquities Administration, the French authorities had created four museums of crafts in the imperial cities; Batha in Fez and Loudaia in Rabat, in 1915; Dar Jam`i in Meknes, in 1920; and Dar Si S`id in Marrakesh, in 1932. An earlier museum preceded these four and consisted of an amalgam of handicrafts collected from throughout the Protectorate. Ricard had designated Dar `Adiyal, one of the famed buildings in Fez, which belonged to a Moroccan aristocratic family of the same name, as the first museum. (Later the General Administration transformed Dar `Adiyal into a vocational school for Moroccan women; see Chapter Five). Ricard refurbished and transformed Dar 'Adiyal into a museum which housed the ethnographic collections of the Fine Arts, Historical Monuments, and Antiquities Administration, as well as those of the Native Crafts Service. The first of four rooms displayed Fez potteries. The second exhibited ancient ceramic tile models, destined to serve as prototypes to be incorporated in future architecture. The third housed fabrics, engraved bronzes, hammered brass items, lanterns, sculpted and painted wood. The fourth included high quality carpets executed in Meknes under the guidance of Ricard himself by a workshop, which the Missionary Franciscan Sisters managed. Dar `Adiyal also classified Rabat's book binding industry and Salé's embroideries.39

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The collections of the four subsequent museums, on the other hand, consisted of glazed potteries, gold and silver jewellery, chiselled brass and bronze, lacework, high quality carpets, wool and silk embroidery, leather crafts, bookbinding, and illumination, all representing a wide range of the refined urban and rural crafts industries. Sheltered in princely homes, themselves "masterly specimens" of "ancient" architecture, the four museums and their gardens of Moorish style became a destination for tourists. They welcomed visitors seven days a week, free of charge.40 They also

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offered Moroccans the opportunity to study their rich craft heritage. The extensive handicrafts and graphic and photographic holdings in the museums also impressed visiting craftsmen, who prior to the establishment of the Protectorate, showed little or no interest in documenting their own trades. Ricard placed books, thousands of articles and studies generously illustrated and described in adjacent offices to the museums. A Cabinet de Dessin, created by Ricard in Rabat, in 1920, contained additional descriptive documentation comprised of sketches, photographs, maquettes (scaled architectural models), and maps leading to the crafts centres. The Cabinet distributed manuals and catalogues at no cost to master craftsmen and private enterprises dealing in crafts.41 In general, these museums displayed large selections of "authentic" craft items, as well as visual documents that served the needs of craftsmen, buyers, and collectors. The craftsmen, an essential loop in the craft reforms, extracted from the museums the "authentic" models which they passed down to their apprentices in the workshops. French and European buyers and amateur collectors had neither the time nor the means to conduct research on their own in order to authenticate the items they bought, because these remained hidden in the innumerable bazaars and scattered throughout the country in craft centres known to specialists only. Buyers, in many instances, additionally, became victims of Moroccan and European hustlers, who preyed on their naiveté. The museums, therefore, offered them an important source of accurate information. The collections also helped the agents from Native Crafts Service, who initially studied the local artefacts, their history, and techniques, offering them a clear idea as to the procedures and methods to be employed in the renovation of craft industries and the rising market demands.42 To collect, preserve, and describe ancient craft productions proved not enough, though. French officials soon found out that production lagged behind market demands. In order to speed it up, they rushed to turning out additional graphic illustrations of "authentic" articles, which craftsmen could easily read. A woman weaver who, for example, might have spent months recalling and reproducing a carpet from memory, spent less time reproducing the same carpet from a schematic illustration. In addition to the documentation housed in the museums, the Native Crafts Service published, conforming to the dahir (law) of May 22, 1919, Ricard's volumes on Moroccan carpets and embroidery, a monumental project in which he catalogued with annotated texts and illustrations "all types" of rural and urban carpets and embroidery. Ricard claimed that his books "scientifically...describe with precision" the origins, the designs, the techniques, and the conditions of these two major industries in each region. The Cabinet du dessin distributed among craftsmen Ricard's volumes and others works, all of which functioned as visual documentation of "archetype" models.43

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The Native Crafts Service, on the other hand, encouraged craftsmen to copy models of their choice from the museums, along with items of "definite [Moroccan] artistic value" they might have found on their own. They also manufactured craft prototypes from descriptions sent to them by the Service and, in doing so, opted to work on commission or for a daily wage. The Service, however, preserved the right to reject a completed assignment. The French authorities contended that this method, which they introduced in Fez as early as early as 1915 before

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extending it to other craft centres in 1920, "officially put the craftsmen in the limelight." The real goal of the plan, nevertheless, normalised techniques, regulated prices, and controlled production. In 1922, five years after its introduction in a Safi state sponsored ceramic workshop, the operation met with success. It revived ceramic manufacturing by creating and sponsoring diligent ceramic throwers and glaze decorators who had enough experience to create an extensive selection of models that attracted local and foreign interest. As a reward, the Protectorate Administration granted these potters a licence, allowing them to work for their own account.44 By the mid-1920s this scheme commanded eighteen independent carpet workshops throughout the country. The project rejuvenated and standardised Rabat carpet as "the" Moroccan carpet because, as the Service explained, the reformed workshops in this city fought against the "dark, sad," and bastardised style and awkward workmanship undertaken in private workshops. The brilliant and harmonious vegetable based designs employed by the weavers in Rabat appealed to a substantial local and foreign clientele. Similarly, in Tangier, a city where no significant carpet industry existed before the Protectorate, a government sponsored workshop introduced this craft which soon thrived.45 As a result, carpet manufacturing in Morocco increased 400 % in 15 years, from 20,000 square metres in 1920 to 60,000 in 1932, 67,000 in 1933, and 76,000 in 1934.46 The Native Crafts Service expedited the sale of the artefacts produced under its guidelines, in both state sponsored and private workshops. It organised permanent and temporary exhibitions with necessary documentation that identified styles, listed prices, and the names and addresses of the craftsmen, thus creating a direct link between clients and artisans without the intervention of either Moroccan or French middle agents. The Service also held permanent exhibitions at its headquarters in major cities, making them distinct from those housed in the four museums. The exhibitions displayed the crafts, underscoring the city and the immediate surrounding regions from which they came-- carpet weaving in Rabat and Salé; fabric weaving in Fez and Meknes; ceramics in Fez and Safi; the leather industry in Fez, Meknes, Rabat, and Marrakesh; sculptured furniture in Fez and Marrakesh; and bookbinding and embroidery in Fez, Rabat, and Salé.47 The exhibitions, henceforth, informed both Moroccan and foreign visitors of the French steady and continued efforts to revive and market these traditional crafts in order to strengthen the economy of the medinas. As part of its project of sustaining the craftsmen materially, the Service promoted handicraft prototypes, displaying them in auxiliary smaller museums, which the Service especially created for tourists in the

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1922 Marseille Colonial Exposition, the 1924 Strasbourg Exhibition, the 1925 Paris Exposition of Decorative Arts, and the Grenoble Tourism Exposition. Under this new dynamism, the Service sent to the Moroccan Trade Office in Paris a set of prototypes to market abroad. This strategy encouraged the craftsmen who followed the directives of the Service (see also Chapter Two) to represent their own products and establish transnational businesses and store outlets in the French cities of Marseille, Lille, Bordeaux, Strasbourg, as well as in Algeria, Tunisia, Spain, Italy, New York, and Boston. Department stores and craft businesses from England, the Scandinavian Countries, and North

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vicinity of the Municipalities. These museums, in addition to exhibiting common items found in the bazaars of the medinas, played a crucial economic role by helping familiarise tourists to the crafts of the city and its region. The museums also assisted prospective buyers who suffered the hustles of lengthy local bargaining to locate "artefact types" and learn their exact prices. 48 Aside from local regional expositions, which Lyautey launched in Casablanca in 1915 (see Chapter Two), the Service sent craft samples to national and colonial expositions held in France. Moroccan artisans, subsequently, participated in the

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and South America also benefited from these reforms, which allowed a regular influx of Moroccan trade representatives. As a result of this revitalisation, ten years after the establishment of the Protectorate, the Moroccan leather industry alone generated a dozen million French francs, and involved a thousand craftsmen and their assistants, and a hundred merchants. In 1928 the French authorities valued the total trade of Moroccan crafts at twenty million francs.49 Given the success of these innovative marketing methods, the Native Crafts Service, beginning in 1928, contemplated the possibility of extending these methods to organising the arts of music and popular theatre, subjects that are not within the scope of this book. We need to emphasise, however, that Morocco became a model of colonial reforms in other French colonies. As early as 1924 the French extended the Moroccan experience to Syria and Lebanon in the Middle East, and Italy adopted it in its attempt to reform Libya's traditional industries.50 The success of the Moroccan reforms continued to echo in the French Empire at large. In 1939 France held in Paris the Fifth Exposition du Travail in which craftsmen and workers from throughout the Empire had the opportunity to display through individual artefacts their technical expertise and their "definite aesthetic taste." The fifty participating Moroccan craftsmen and vocational apprentices swept the majority of the prizes and awards, winning the title of "Les Meilleurs Travailleurs de l'Empire," or "the Best Workers of the Empire."51 The cataloguing, studying, and the resuscitation of Moroccan craft industries simultaneously developed the local economy sector. These interventions helped Moroccans become economically more independent from the Protectorate Administration, but also isolated and restricted them from meddling in French colonial plans. Such were the "native politics" as laid out, first, by Lyautey and pursued by subsequent Resident Generals. Throughout the Protectorate, the French claimed that by helping Moroccans develop their economy they underscored a continued display of the respect they had for them. This claimed esteem also went hand in hand with what the French authorities called a "genuine desire" to protect local traditions and assist Moroccans to further strengthen their economy by building barriers against other Europeans who, the authorities surprisingly contended, only cared for increasing their economic interests. However, the French deduced that the preservation of old models was not enough. In order for the traditional industries to survive international competition and market demands, they had to generate new forms and designs and not remain restrained by past rules, manufacturing methods, or old models alone. A routine and unimaginative craft production would harm the economy of the medinas just as inappropriate innovations would. The solution resided, as Ricard and others con-

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cluded, in allowing Moroccans to invent, with their own means, additional patterns inspired from the local environment.52 These steps engendered an invention of new traditions in the Moroccan visual culture. The paradigm of the young Bennani cited above, soon reached master craftsmen. In the 1920s female directors of the Rabat women's vocational schools encouraged their weavers "who have never manipulated neither pencil nor brushes" to colour carpet diagrams, which the directors distributed among them. To the surprise of the heads of the schools, the weavers showed a subtle grasp of

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colour composition and harmony. When inspecting them, Ricard judged these drawings as "eclectic, gay...astonishingly rich, and equalled only by the stained glass of our cathedrals." In a similar step, Ricard invited to the headquarters of the Native Crafts Service in Rabat two seasoned artisans, the first, an illumination painter in his sixties, the second, a decoration painter on wood, in his forties. Both had "spent their whole life tracing [routinely] traditional arabesques." When he asked them to draw a real flower, both produced new decorative motifs of "high originality," which he quickly encouraged them to integrate into their decoration patterns.53 These novel art practices were unheard of before the Protectorate. The Service capitalised on these "experiments" as demonstrating Moroccan talents and adaptability. In December 1929 the Service displayed, in its headquarters in Rabat, "modern" Moroccan crafts that included works created during this and similar speculative researches. The exhibition had a profound impact on Moroccans in Rabat and travelled to the three other imperial cities of Fez, Meknes, and Marrakesh, awakening dormant talents. Less than a year later, in 1930, Ricard claimed that though Morocco had been under French influence for less than twenty years, it had leaped into a new artistic phase. The adoption of these latest artistic methods, he declared with some hyperbole, proved that Moroccans had begun to willingly assimilate the French directives which, in time, would prove as strong, perhaps filled with definite consequences, if not more, than those caused by their conversion to Islam a thousand years before.54 The French had difficulty harnessing Moroccans to French culture, however. As already noted Moroccans grew impatient with French assimilationist politics as illustrated by the 1930 Berber dahir, along with the restrictive educational system that kept them at a subservient level. Moreover, the 1936-37 widespread drought propelled large numbers of peasants from the countryside to the edge of the cities, increasing the masses of the urban migrants. World War II caused the economy of France to weaken and this strongly impinged negatively on traditional industries. On January 13, 1941, the Bureau of Foreign Affairs issued a law that transformed the Native Crafts Service into the Service of Native Trade and Crafts, thus increasing its power. The Bureau controlled the Service's involvement in craft productions, while the General Administration of Public Education defined its artistic role. Under the advice of the Bureau and the General Administration, the Chief of the Service revised the inventories of craft productions, pointing out their strengths and weaknesses. A new law guaranteed the distribution of raw materials among craftsmen, created new market outlets, expedited the renovation of guilds and collaborated with the Regional Loan Banks (see

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Chapter Two). The law granted loans to craftsmen, and advised the Bureau as to the type of French industries it should encourage to relocate to Morocco from war devastated France. The Service also collaborated with the Moroccan Craft Trading Post in creating and publishing additional catalogues, which illustrated "artefact types" of the "entire" Moroccan craft industries and listed their prices. The Service sent the catalogues to the Regional Craft Inspectors to assist them in guaranteeing a "perfect manufacturing" of the illustrated items and allowing them to monitor commissions, which muhtasibs received before distributing them among craftsmen in the guilds.55 The General Administration buttressed the program of the Service and the Regional Loan Banks in order to protect and develop traditional industries. It accomplished this task by instituting a proficient pedagogical system that stewarded scores of young apprentices to assimilate its teaching guidelines. Since a large part of this book concerns the role different parties played in the mobilisation and display of Moroccan crafts, I shall only quickly sketch in the following few pages the ramifications of these methods and the extent to which they made the vocational curriculum visual to wider audiences. The General Administration created a central museum, Le Musée Pédagogique du Maroc, in the hall of its headquarters in Rabat. This museum addressed administrators and the public at large, and displayed the general activities of the schools throughout the Protectorate, as well as the particular nature of each school. More importantly, it maintained and supported the formation of instructors and as Georges Hardy, the second General Director of Public Education, conceded "underlined the true character of education in Morocco by giving it a definite [visual] shape."56 The museum included a pavilion with different sections representing the types of educational institutions—schools of craft for both Moroccan men and women, schools of European industries, fishing industries, and agriculture. The branch for vocational schools contained display cases which showed the gradual steps involved in the manufacturing of artefacts. A display case on carpet weaving, for example, included samples of raw, carded, tinted, stretched, and spun wool, pigment and liquid dyes, and fragments of unfinished carpets. The agriculture division showed plants, harvest samples, and tools. Another exhibited clothes and toys of Moroccan students. The General Administration organised these exhibitions in the museum. Gifts and donations sent by the schools and Advisory Committees and small fees the public paid to visit the shows provided the necessary financial support to keep the museum functioning.57 Hardy asked the directors of each school to contribute "a stone to th[is educational] edifice." They sent "monographs" consisting of sets of

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students' drawings, which illustrated the specialty of each individual establishment. Hardy abstained from imposing on the directors a rigid guideline or a rigorous checklist. To encourage them to fulfil this task to the best of their ability, he appealed to their emotions, advising them to follow the "dictates of their hearts" and to do their utmost to "exhibit the true character and the real physiognomy of the schools" for they had "witnessed their birth and nurtured them ever since."58 The monographs featured the local and the regional character of these institutions. The museum also Cabinet housed a d'Archives of statistics and reports, a library with extensive holdings of issues of the journal Revue d'enseignement colonial, the pedagogical official organ of the General Administration of Public Education, classical colonial books, as well as the 7.35

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rules and regulations of the schools. An adjoining section displayed the architectural plans and the maquettes (scaled models) of each school.59 Female directors also contributed craft samples manufactured in their schools along with prices and copies of their housekeeping exercises and kitchen recipes. To prove that their schools ran on tight regulations, they provided previously inspected bookkeeping and personal notebooks. In order for the museum to convey the social background of the student body, Hardy inspired instructors, craftsmen, and apprentices to donate specimens of their clothes including shirts, pants, sweaters, hats, and models of Moroccan dressmaking and cloth mending.60 The Rabat Musée pédagogique of the General Administration served as a model for smaller museums, which directors throughout the country created within the vicinity of their individual establishments. Marcel Finateu, director of the `Akkari Franco-Arab School in Rabat, defined the role of the museum he established as practical in that it illustrated the natural sciences curriculum, and not simply embellished the classrooms. It surrounded students with the best types of the traditional crafts produced in Rabat medina. Regional Education Inspectors supported this project by soliciting Moroccan master craftsmen and French and European industrialists to donate pieces of their products for the schools. The Casablanca Inspector, for example, appealed to the 123rd escadron du train automobile company, the Maison Citroyen, and the Parcs Automobile Militaire to supply the city schools with their discarded hardware parts. The scraps became a "real technology museum" thus "concretising" the curriculum of the mechanic divisions.61 The schools’ museums, moreover, pumped up the egos of the directors. Finateu underscored the sacrifice and the time he spent building the collection in his museum, explaining that he paid for a number of the objects with his own money and took the initiative to contact as many as thirty French industrial firms in Morocco, asking them to contribute articles they manufactured. He claimed that, though small and poor, the museum developed, thanks to its forty-three dioramas, into "the most attractive museum in all the schools in the Protectorate."62 Twelve dioramas represented aspects of the Moroccan daily life. The rest illustrated "children's life" on which he structured lessons of the French language (figs. 7.31-33). A substantial set of maps and scientific diagrams decorated the hallways inside the school, as well. He conceived the museum, not as a "tape-à-l'oeil," as flashy eyewash, but as a material base of the syllabus. Composed of simple objects, the museum offered Finateu the means with which he could actively bolster the agenda of the General Administration of Public Education. For a lesson on the leather industry in the pre-training division, for example, dioramas helped instructors elucidate the procedures. In the first diorama students analysed different types of leather such as sheep,

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goat, cow, and "even horse leather [sic]" and the tools shoemakers employed, including a paring-knife and an anvil-cutter, yellow and black polish, and silk. The second showed the method involved in the production of other types of leather crafts with samples of book covers, a purse, an amulet carrier, and a saddle bag.63 Ethnographic in essence, the schools’ museums at once enhanced and bolstered Lyautey's edict that education for the Moroccans had to conform to their environment. These museums, on the other hand, did not simply collect and exhibit specimens of the crafts which the students learned to manufacture. Instead, they instilled in them the notion that the items displayed in the showcases and on the classroom walls mirrored their culture. The point I wish to accentuate here is that the museums played a fundamental role as stabilisers of colonial ideology by making visual the apparatus of colonial education in the schools. Each museum claimed to be closely connected with the cultural practices of the Moroccan students, by visually and materially representing their culture and by incorporating and preserving in the school a segment of their immediate surrounding. The museum also functioned as a barometer of the particular cultural identity of the school by unifying its director, instructors, and students around a specific focal point on which the establishment operated. The museum served, in addition, as a reservoir of the collective experience shared by the French personnel and their Moroccan students, pinpointing the school as a colonial institution that performed a crucial role in the life of the city, not only educationally, but also economically, socially, and culturally.

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The Protectorate’s Vocational Education System Revisited The Archives of the General Administration of Public Education depict a glamorous image of the educational reforms the French implemented in Morocco. In general, the correspondence exchanged between the different offices of the General Administration tends to inflate the importance of these guidelines. It also reveals the French pedagogical attempts at propagating to other colonial powers the image of Morocco as France's colonial masterpiece, whose foundations Lyautey had established. Patient research, however, tells a different story. The General Administration reports, for example, represent the Fez Makina pilot workshop (see Chapter Four) as a successful model. Nonetheless, aspects of this story had discouraged the General Administration itself on at least one occasion. During a 1927 visit to the Makina, Louis Brunot, the General Inspector of the Native Education Bureau, lamented its disorganisation. Out of the 51 students, 7 had reached the age of 9; 11 that of 10; 18 that of 11 to 12; 10 that of 14; and 5 that of 15 or older. Although, the General Administration ruled that vocational schools had to recruit from the grammar schools in the medina, only 7 apprentices in the Makina had graduated from these establishments, while the rest had no basic education and no pre-training experience. Brunot felt mostly "struck by the extreme young age" of some apprentices" and by the fact that "a number of them [were] hardly as tall as their saw; while others, the fitters, [could] hardly reach the vice." These students puzzled Brunot. To keep them in this pilot workshop meant that they would only become physically able to withstand the physical demands of the training in no less than three or four years when their bodies matured. To send them back to their families meant "to lose them forever." Providing a sound training, in the Makina, to this "world of little people" went in vain. That the task demanded of them "went beyond their physical capabilities"64 baffled Brunot. I have already discussed at length the drawing curriculum introduced in the grammar and vocational schools, and I have noted that the first distinct drawing lessons found their way into these schools beginning in 1928. Before this date, the drawing program operated makeshift, because each instructor designed the courses he or she taught. These varied efforts resulted in a disparate and incomplete scheme. Brunot noted this fact during his 1927 visit to the Makina. He found the pilot workshop (previously a wheat warehouse) old, dark, and damp (fig. 7.34). The theoretical curriculum comprised two divisions. In the first twenty-five

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apprentices, the very youngest, received the fundamentals of the French language, arithmetic, and drawing in the mornings, and practiced manual work in the afternoon. In the second, the older studied simple Arabic, French syllabic reading and conversation, the metric system, arithmetic, and basic geometric drawing. However, Brunot noticed that, because of the nature of these courses, they failed to advance beyond the level of apprentices in the first division. Though the staff maintained the tools and supplies in the Makina in good order, he found the practical courses muddled and part of the mechanical equipment defective. Worse, the school wasted the power of the 4 H.P. and 10 H.P. motors it operated. Because "the training level of the older apprentices equalled that of their younger school mates," Brunot concluded that the school had to keep them longer under tight supervision to further perfect their training.65 The iron workshop syllabus did not go beyond the level of a "bricolage," or hotchpotch, and Brunot noted that a student did not necessary need to enrol in the Makina to acquire such skills. The French master ironsmith himself seemed unable to understand or follow the general outline of the courses the General Administration had specifically designed for the Makina. Apprentices, likewise, worked on assignments without being able to grasp their basic concepts. In the wood workshop, the nineteen apprentices knew close to nothing and seemed "unable to use the instruments of verification and measurement." This workshop separated students into two divisions. The oldest apprentices assisted the instructor in manufacturing some furniture. They, however, "did not know how to read a drawing and failed to trace the item on which they collaborated" with their teacher. The younger, and even those who completed one-year training, filled their time in preliminary sawing exercises. Brunot blamed these conditions on the fact that the Makina recruited students too young to assimilate the lessons designed for them, and to the fact that, in designing practical exercises proportionate to their age, the teaching staff did not consider their intellectual formations or physical abilities. The leather workshops did not differ much from pre-Protectorate workshops. Though apprentices "consciously" engraved the leather, employing both chisels and needles, they did not realise that the leather craft was the product not of routine movements, but required a precise measuring eye and a dexterous hand. The vocational schools also suffered from inadequate theoretical curriculum. Definitions of "art" and "craft" and the differences between the two concepts continued to generate vague theorisations and conflicting speculations among the scholars and officials from the General Administration of Public Education. After his 1927 inspection of the Makina, Brunot recommended that the General Administration had to base vocational training on a better conception of theoretical education. He grieved that a conscientious buyer would not tolerate the "astounding defects and poor work-

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manship" of Moroccan crafts, a weakness which he saw as essentially the outcome of the craftsmen's "ignorance of all rational principles of drawing."66 The schools could, in his view, only mend such flaws by grounding the training of the new generation in a sound drawing curriculum that would enhance their "artistic sensibility." Whereas Lunel and others argued, as we have seen above, that the talent Moroccan craftsmen had originated from their "instinct," Brunot connoted the importance of drawing as the foundation on which they could ground their artistic formation and as the only means with which they could nurture their creative perceptiveness. In so doing, Brunot elevated Moroccan craftsmen to the rank of European "gifted artists." He believed that a person cannot acquire "true artistic sensibility" haphazardly and, accordingly, pressed the trade schools throughout the Protectorate to recruit only children who showed a "promising talent." Quoting from an administrative report by the director of the Mogador (now Essaouira) vocational school, he emphasised that the drawing curriculum sent to schools by the General Administration seemed designed for the manufacturing of inlaid crafts and, therefore, should not be adopted by all schools throughout the country. If the French hoped to produce excellent craftsmen, the General Administration had to offer apprentices methodical drawing courses as well as a rigorous artistic training.67 In his attempt to reform the curricula, Brunot raised trade education from a set of rules and concepts, which the students acquired through observation and imitation, into systemised and tightly knit lessons. Additionally, he transformed artefacts into objects in which Moroccan craftsmen could inscribe their "sensibility" and "individual touch," hence reconstructing the object, once more, into a handicraft that had a valid aesthetic value. The two additional examples that follow testify to the contradictory nature of the educational project the French authorities designed for the Moroccan masses. The first concerns a photograph, which initially aimed at making visible the "good intention" the French had in helping the Moroccan poor by educating their young women. The second involves an "accusation," which a Moroccan brought against a school, a rare incident in the annals of the General Administration of Public Education. On September 11, 1930 Le Soir Marocain, a French daily newspaper, had on its front page a special article on the city of Taza accompanied with a photograph representing the female apprentices of its vocational school (figs. 7.35_36). The photograph caused an outcry among the Moroccan population in that many wrote to Brunot to admonish the French press for publishing photographs of their women. That the school mentioned by the newspaper simply did not exist astounded Brunot. In fact, no vocation school for women existed in that city. Brunot justified the whole affair as "an unfair trick of circumstances which remained incomprehensible," but he did not fail to ponder the motivations the editor-in-chief of the newspaper

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might have had in "publishing a photograph of young women of a non-existent school." The editor should have known that Moroccans "are shocked" to see the photographs of their women made public. As a matter of precaution, Brunot immediately prohibited the female directors of the women's vocational schools in Salé, Rabat, Sefrou, Meknes, Fez, Mazagan (now El Jedida), Oujda, Safi, Mogador (now Essaouira), Marrakesh, and Casablanca from releasing any photograph of their school for publication without the permission of the Regional Education Inspectors. Moreover, only Brunot and the General Inspectors of Grammar Education could approve the publication of photographs representing Moroccan apprentices of both genders.68 "Baffling" photographs continued to plague the educational project of the General Administration. On many occasions it had been remarked by different "anonymous accusers" that photographs in the Fez newspaper routinely showed the "same young children" in pictures depicting "different schools." The "accusers" incriminated the General Administration of hiring the same "extras" to inflate the number of students. In questioning the sincerity of the French, the "accusers" compared the entire educational enterprise to a "frog that strove to become as big as a bull," and charged the administrators of the schools of being "bluffers" and "opportunists who wanted to have their name slated in [the Protectorate’s] history undeservedly."69 "Perplexing" but not unsolvable, the second incident occurred in Salé, in 1934, four years after the Taza event. It involved Mme Balli, the director of Sale's vocational school for women, Bruno, a Moroccan young ma`alma, Aicha bent Lalla Rqiya, also known as Aicha Sarghiniya, and Abderrahman ben Kacem elhayani el Hassani, the Pacha’s deputy of Salé and Aicha's representative in the incident. Aicha and Abderrahman claimed that Balli employed the young ma`alma for 12 months for 300 francs a month. Balli paid her 50 at the end of each month, promising to cover the rest in the near future. But Balli then fired Aicha without pay, accusing her of periodically stealing wool from the storage room. The young ma`alma defended herself by reminding Brunot that Zohra Maknassiya, another young ma`alma, not she, kept the key to the supplies room, a fact which Brunot could easily verify, but did not. The interesting aspect of this case is that here stood a young Moroccan woman confidently accusing her French employer of unfairness. But all of this ran contrary to the moral superiority Brunot attributed to himself and to Balli. In solving the dispute, he claimed to have employed a "just method." He "took as truth" the words of Balli, "a respected French director at the service of one of the Protectorate’s establishments," over those of a young Moroccan ma`alma.70 Brunot's resolution illustrates the drastic relaxation of accountability when the French stood accused. In 1927, when Mme Steeg, wife of Théodore Steeg, the second Resident General, visited a number of women's vocational schools, she "felt

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painfully swayed by the misery of the [Moroccan] children." Her observations forced Brunot to generate a new budget for some schools and to build cafeterias as a material relief to the "most destitute" among the students.71 In other instances high officials in the General Administration ignored cultural practices, which Moroccans took very seriously. As late as 1934, in the aftermath of the Berber Dahir controversy, and in spite of the General Administration's recommendation to respect gender segregation, French male inspectors conducted inspections of women's schools while apprentices attended classes. When word of this "misbehaviour" and "disrespect" reached the parents, they took their daughters out of the school. Enrolment dropped immediately.72 The reverberations of the 1929 international financial crisis, the 1930s drought, and World War II affected both the Moroccan and European labour force in the Protectorate and laid bare the low quality of the vocational curriculum. European workers encouraged their children to enrol in the Moroccan vocational schools as a way of helping them secure a future in trade. While in these schools the European students could also earn allowances--between 150 and 600 francs a year depending on their grades-a substantial sum which could augment the annual income of their families. This phenomenon threatened to jeopardise the French politics of keeping the nationalities separate. To restrict enrolment of Europeans, the French authorities issued a whole set of intimidating administrative procedures. After proving their "unquestionable" French citizenship, European applicants had to pass "tough exams in sciences, arithmetic, and drawing." Next, the General Administration of Public Education informed parents that the schools accepted their children temporarily on condition that they follow "strict" regulations. The General Administration justified these restrictions by claiming that European students should not handicap the enrolment of Moroccans for whom these establishments have been created. Statistics, however, show otherwise. During the period stretching from the international financial crisis and throughout World War II, the Moroccan student body dwindled as scores of apprentices dropped out of the schools and sought jobs to support their families, leaving behind seats European children wished to fill. To further discourage the prospective European students, the General Administration explained that, because of the "exceptional circumstances," they could not benefit from the allowances originally created for the Moroccans. As for Brunot, who had always made explicit the inadequacy of the vocational curriculum, he opposed French and European enrolment by simply stating on a number of occasions that the "theoretical training [Europeans] would receive [in these schools] was worthless."73 The correspondence between Jean Gotteland, the third General Director of Public Education, and the Director of the Lebanese National School of Trade and Craft in Beirut offers even more surprises. The letters

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underlie the fact that vocational training in the Protectorate lacked a tight focus. The Beirut director wrote to Gotteland commending the agenda the Protectorate Administration pursued in mobilising Moroccan crafts through a firm curriculum, and hence requested further information which he hoped would help this Middle Eastern French Mandate cultivate its craft resources. I have already noted in Chapter Four the heterogeneous nature of the educational apparatus in Morocco and argued that its success resulted from its flexibility and its adaptability to changing circumstances and that, above all, as a colonial apparatus, it drew its strength from plural organisations and institutions. Gotteland replied, to the surprise of the director in Beirut, that there existed in Morocco "no unified trade schools" with a single program. The system, instead, consisted of different types of establishments depending on the need of the city and the population which each school served. There existed no specific training manuals either, aside from Ricard's books on carpets and embroidery and a few drawing manuals. As a whole, Gotteland made it clear that the vocational education in the Protectorate extracted its momentum from being a "decentralised apparatus." The awareness of those involved--directors, inspectors, and instructors--of the exigencies of their schools and the specific colonial role they had to perform provided the system with the necessary thrust to function and endure. 74

CHAPTER EIGHT: THE OPEN WORKSHOPS AND THE CASABLANCA SCHOOL OF FINE ARTS

In her study of British women in colonial India, historian Patricia Barr discusses how they limited their activities to entertaining their husbands' guests and maintaining a "social, decorative and ceremonial" role. When they wrote about their experiences they recounted the sacrifices they endured for the glory of the Empire, including the "acceptance of discomfort [and] boredom." To compensate, they spared "no expense to recreate...the ambience of luxurious Western-style comfort." In Barr's account, these women lived as prisoners in their quarters guarded by "cooks, valets...and wet nurses" and, hence, began to realise the constraints imposed on them by the colonial environment.1 Barr writes about unprofessional British colonial housewives in middle to late nineteen century India, who saw their role fixed to managing their homes. But colonial women also included professionals who had acquired the necessary skills to fulfil particular functions in the colony. As we have already seen, in the Protectorate of Morocco a number of French women fully participated in the decision-making regarding educational reforms. In this chapter I will pursue the involvement of two women, Simone Gruner and Jacqueline Brodskis, in establishing what became known as the "ateliers ouverts," or Open Workshops, created by the Service of Youth and Sports. In Chapter Four I pointed out that the General Administration of Public Education sought to increase enrolment in the vocational schools by recruiting from the msids (Koranic schools), the grammar schools, as well as among unschooled children from the medinas and the shanty-

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towns. In the following pages I will discuss how Gruner and Brodskis mobilised young Moroccan children throughout the country into these workshops, encouraging them to draw and paint as a playful activity, speculating that this early introduction to drawing and painting would encourage them, once in grammar school, to chose a craft profession. During the same period they created these workshops, the General Administration officially inaugurated a School of Fine Arts in Casablanca, which trained Moroccans in European crafts so as to assist in meeting the demands which modern industry-related crafts required in the villes nouvelles. In 1950 the Service of Youth and Sports in Rabat created a Plastic Arts division, which organised lectures related to art education and art exhibitions for Moroccans. A second division focused on the creative talents of young Moroccans aged eight to sixteen by persuading them to attend drawing and painting sessions in open workshops where they engaged in playful activities that permitted them to express themselves freely. If the art education these children received in these workshops took place in a non-colonial context, it might have contributed to propagating a true enlightened education. But as we shall see, the workshops supported the French colonial ideology and also disseminated French culture among Moroccans.

Simone Gruner Cultivates the Natural Talents of Moroccan Children Simone Gruner (1910- ) studied at the Paris Lycée Fémelon where she met Jacqueline Brodskis (1914-). Both graduated from the École des Beaux-Arts and became drawing instructors in Parisian high schools. In 1937 Gruner followed her husband, Roger Gruner, to Morocco where he held the office of Civil Controller. She found a job teaching drawing at the Rabat Collège des Orangers, a high school for French children. Her husband’s assignments took them to different cities and towns, including Roumani, Moulay Driss, and Fez, where he functioned as a Municipal official. Simone taught drawing and painting to her children and the children of her French and Moroccan notable friends. In Rabat Roger worked as an Advisor to the Moroccan Grand Vizier, al-Moqri who, as we have witnessed in Chapter Two, engaged the French authorities in long debates regarding the guilds’ reforms.2 In 1951 Simone Gruner curated an exhibition of artworks by her French and Moroccan students in the Mamounia gallery in Rabat. After visiting the exhibition, Roger Tabault, the fourth General Director of the Administration of Public Education, offered her a teaching post at the

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École des Beaux-Arts in Casablanca. Gruner refused because, as she put it, her main concern consisted not of teaching, but of cultivating in the children the ability to express their sensibilities through the art of drawing and painting. She did accept, however, a job in the Department of Popular Education attached to the Service of Youth and Sport and headed the Department of Plastic Arts, which the Service created initially for young Moroccans. She also managed similar but separate workshops for the French. In interviews with the author in Paris, in 1999, Gruner defined the sole goal of the workshops as that of nurturing the children's own personalities. She hoped to open their minds to new horizons by stimulating their imaginations to express themselves in a milieu of trust. For the French students, the workshops involved teaching at an intellectual level, whereas those for Moroccans had no strict curriculum. She justified this dichotomy by explaining that, because art in the Western sense was not part of Moroccan culture, she simply encouraged them to keep in touch with the visual forms from their immediate surrounding. The receptivity they demonstrated convinced her to solicit the Service to create additional workshops to reach male and female apprentices in vocational schools, nursery schools, cultural centres, orphanages, youth hostels, as well as unschooled children in shantytowns.3 Gruner approached only the poor Moroccans who "were neither educated nor intellectual." The initial stumbling block she confronted was how to familiarise them with the concept of drawing and painting. She decided on providing them with wooden boards, similar to those they might have used in the msids. During the first experience which took place in Douar Roussia in Rabat, a popular shantytown, she circumscribed her activities to investigating if "drawing and painting could be accepted by a population of illiterate children." She had to decide if they could become a carrier of visual communication in the hands of the unschooled. With the help of Larbi Doghmi, a young Moroccan actor from the Service's Theatre Association, she embarked on a program of meeting her new clientele. She arrived in this village after Moroccan assistants had gathered children in the large space where the weekly market occurred, a method she replicated in future visits to other villages and towns. Doghmi began telling stories from the One Thousand and One Nights. When the crowd multiplied, Gruner distributed paper, mounted on wooden boards, and oil pastels and asked the children to draw anything they wished as long as their drawing related to the story they had just heard.4 Though she claims that the session lacked tight discipline, she persuaded the children who had no precise subject in mind to focus on their mothers and the interior decoration of their homes. Gruner noted that the children enjoyed working with strident

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colours and geometric designs, which reflected those found in tiles, embroidery, and carpets. Though their works did not represent any realistic subjects, they drew figurative narratives populated with symbolic forms. She described the content of their paintings as "a mapping out of their familiar social territory."5 Throughout the period she spent in the Service, Gruner insisted that the subject tackled by the children evoked their homes with the enclosed universe of their mothers, where everything turned inward. Their paintings also emphasised the significance of Moroccan doors, which she saw as an important symbol delineating simultaneously a separation and a connection between the intimate space of the family and the social space outside. In street scenes, the children represented their fathers practicing their various professions as well as beggars, water sellers, snake charmers, the sacrifice of sheep during the religious celebration of `Ayd al-Kebir, shepherds and their sheep in fields, dancers, and musicians. In these paintings "poetry married dreams," for many children depicted love episodes of the warrior Antar and Abla in pre-Islamic Arabia, which they had heard told by troubadour story tellers in the market place of their village. Unschooled in descriptive perspective, they superimposed and juxtaposed flat and coloured planes, which Gruner compared with local carpets designs. And like these carpets, the paintings had an all-over effect, with arabesque and geometric forms garnishing their entire surfaces.6 Not unlike the teaching methods in traditional craft workshops and msids, Gruner arranged art sessions as communal endeavours, involving entire groups. Unlike traditional workshops and msids, however, the children "exteriorised" their individuality without fear of being reprimanded or hearing their works judged, or even evaluated. In fact, Gruner's teaching method consisted, to use her own words, of a "soupage" of communication, or the "opening of the gate of uncensored dialogue." Children felt welcomed, took pleasure in group activity, which stimulated them to accept and integrate their contributions with other members of the group.7 To underline the significance of the workshops as a communal space, Gruner installed a collective palette containing water based coloured pigments. She taught the children to prepare paint themselves by mixing dry pigments and gum Arabic, which they then stored in shoe shine boxes. They sat on the ground, and she required them to employ large brushes and oil pastels and forbade them the use of pencils and erasers (figs. 8.1-2). This, she believed, would force them to be more spontaneous. When undertaking large works they painted on paper mounted on plywood boards hung on a wall (figs. 8.3-4).8 On different occasions, she designed a single project among different groups for which one child was designated a "leader." The task constituted an unstructured "big play." A child could choose to paint

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the background while others contributed individual paintings. The final work represented a collage of various fragments.9 Works produced in these workshops attested to "a raw" art, a creation in its "natural state," in which the children preserved their innocence and uncensored sensibility.10 Gruner received the paintings they produced without any value judgement or classification. She abolished all models, recipes, and criteria. The experience underscored the act of painting as form, colour, and pictorial 8.3 space and, above all, as a vehicle of an unmediated narration. At its core, her method encouraged the children to enter into a dialogue with their visual culture.11 In addition, works by these young Moroccans epitomised, in Gruner’s view, "a pure and sincere creation," and a manifestation of what she saw as "a Moroccan Matisse." They displayed a sensibility that contrasted with intellectual endeavour. She credits herself for allowing them to get in touch with their "fancies." Statements such as these bring to mind similar observations officials from the 8.4

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General Administration of Public Administration had made on the "natural" artistic talent Moroccans had. For example, upon reviewing the drawings produced by apprentices in the vocational and grammar schools, Prosper Ricard, then head of the Moroccan Craft Bureau and, as we have seen, a major influence in establishing the craft reforms, noted that the extraordinary fact about these drawings was that "these young men have acquired the science of drawing and of colouring and the ability to translate their surroundings with a subtle feeling through their instinct alone."12

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The pedagogical method employed by Gruner relied also on teaching concepts then circulating in France. Drawing largely from the Interactive Method developed by Mrs Artus-Perrelet in her book Le dessin au service de l'education [n.p. n.d.],13 Gruner believed that she could help Moroccan children discover the laws of local decoration by allowing them to meditate on the motifs in their homes and streets, before recalling them from memory. In Chapters Six and Seven, I have already discussed the role of memory drawing, originally devised by de Boisbaudran as an important method that helped cultivate the drawing skills of students in both France and the Protectorate. Like de Boisbaudran, Gruner believed that the individual creativity of the artist had to have traits of spontaneity, aided by his or her rich visual memory. She viewed true artistic inventiveness as a spontaneous expression given visual shape, whereas art was no more than the illustration of an "intellectual concept." In other words, when art lacked spontaneity, it became a "cerebral organisation of the artist's thought." Gruner found that Moroccan children had strong and rich imaginations. Unlike the French, they were less influenced by images. From an early age, French children in the villes nouvelles had access to a variety of visual sources including illustrated school textbooks, comics, newspapers, magazines, posters, movie theatres, and at a later date television. On the other hand, the French authorities mandated the protection of the medinas, ruling that no posters or visual signs be hung on their street walls. Gruner explained that these elements contributed to preserving a pristine visual expression in the Moroccans. In order to keep intact the "natural skills" Moroccan children had and in order to sharpen their memory recall, Gruner designed a variety of assignments. On one occasion, she asked them to observe turtle doves she kept in a cage in the Rabat workshop before they painted them from memory. The resulting two-dozen paintings, though they resembled the birds, neither depicted "scientific" nor "realistic" representations, but testified to the ability the children had to transform their subject into an abstract and a mélange of colours and designs (figs. 8.5-9). A second assignment had them draw subjects inspired by either their homes or neighbourhoods. After they completed the project, she asked them to return to their subjects and restudy them by comparing them with their drawing. Another "amusing" exercise consisted of having them tell stories or describe to each other their own families and homes after which time they attempted to illustrate them. When a child produced an "unsuccessful" work, Gruner "neither corrected the work nor reprimanded him or her." Instead, she "pointed out its positive aspect so that he or she would learn on his or her own how to avoid that which was not acceptable." On two occasions, she

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organised drawing and painting competitions between different grammar schools in the urban centres and distant villages. The contests instructed the children to represent in drawing or paintings episodes from the stories of Ali Baba. Their response in both events "dazzled" her.14 To increase their curiosity, activate their imagination, and awaken in them the desire to learn by way of seeing and remembering other works of art, Gruner took the children to visit exhibitions mounted by the Service of Youth and Sports (fig. 8.10). When they expressed interest in an image, she stimulated them to reproduce it from memory in the workshop. Gruner remembers that the children had the ability to recall their subjects not as faithful copy of the original and that, no matter what image they encountered, their representation "was sifted through their own perception and personal experience." She, therefore, insisted that "Moroccans had to be allowed to express their artistic talent in their cultural context," and should remain shielded from bombardment by Western images. Her method embodied the politics of the French authorities to protect Moroccans from any sudden contact with the French, and she seems to have conformed to the ideological tenets on which the General Administration of Public Education based the educational programs for the Moroccan poor. However, her methods differed from those employed in the vocational schools in that she implicitly rejected any scientific training and fixed rules. The vocational schools helped apprentices acquire necessary craft skills, subsequently transforming them into more or less passive recipients. Gruner, on the other hand, believed in the principles of the Active Method, which permitted the children to perform without the personal intervention of the instructor. Though their drawings and paintings lacked all flattering promises of exact copying, they evolved through patience and a lengthy time of "doodles, stumbles, and markings," which led the children "to discover their own inherent talent." Drawing in the vocational schools restricted the individual expression, because apprentices had to learn practical skills and know-how of a craft, whereas drawing in the workshops created by the Service concentrated on "life as the children experienced it." In the former, drawing methods, moreover, could not have existed outside a graphic geometricised configuration which, in essence, embodied an abstract concept, the sum of an understanding of geometry and natural sciences. In the latter drawing ceased to be a schematic representation. We might wish to recall, though, that the children Gruner targeted came from poor families who, by being initiated in the art of drawing and painting, by being encouraged to depict their immediate visual heritage, could easily move on to the practice of crafts. As Gruner explained to the author, in the Protectorate the

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French had their modern industrial factories and the Moroccans their traditional workshops. To expand the experience, Gruner organised itinerant exhibitions at the branches of the Service in different cities before undertaking the creation of additional open workshops that crisscrossed the country from Casablanca to Mohammedia, Ain-Sbaa, Berchid, Rabat, Salé, and Tangier, from Ouazzane to Skhirat, Meknes, Moulay Driss, Ksar Souq, Fez, Taza, and Oujda, and from Marrakesh to Sidi Ghalam, Ouarzazate, and Demnate. By the time Morocco gained its independence in 1956, 90 such

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workshops existed with a total of 2,300 children.15 This vast enterprise necessitated the formation of coordinators who could guarantee its functioning. The majority of coordinators had no art training and those who did had acquired it from the Division of Plastic Arts in the Service of Youth and Sport. Trained in art or not, they had to fully obey the teaching guidelines mandated by Gruner which, essentially, ordered them to recall at all time that the workshops were not drawing or painting class rooms in the traditional sense but, rather, a communal space where the children could polish their "natural" artistic talents. Coordinators, moreover, had to create an atmosphere of trust and interact with the children and, above all, they had to transform their endeavours from teaching the children "art" to involving them in exciting games. Gruner, additionally, ruled that they could not intervene in the children's work, but simply make themselves available. She advised them on how to answer calls for help without interceding, forcing their hands, or expressing their personal opinions. They had to motivate the children to focus on their activities, to encourage them with a small word, a "discrete question," or "a delicate suggestion."16 Gruner taught coordinators rudimentary painting, followed by introductory courses in general culture, history, and art history. The theoretical training included discussions evolving around the notion of colour, gesture, and the like. They also learned how to prepare colours by mixing dry pigments with glue, according to old methods. Every year she invited them to a summer camp at the Maamora forest near Rabat (8.11). During the eight days they spent together, she critiqued paintings they brought with them, representing the best samples the children had produced in the workshops they managed. Yet, Gruner discovered that often her method contradicted her teaching philosophy. As we have seen, she defended spontaneity, raw creation, and expression in its natural state. However, she was not adverse to redirecting the children when their works did not meet her expectations regarding cultural content. Her emphasis on the children to produce "suitable subject matters" illustrates this dichotomy, as does the following example. In 1954, UNESCO held in Tokyo, an international contest with the theme My Mother and invited 150 nations to participate. Gruner enrolled the participation of Moroccan and French children. When a number of Moroccan children depicted their mothers in Western dresses in paintings they prepared for this exhibition, Gruner responded: "But you have traditional feasts and much more," thus "pressing them to depict their mothers in traditional settings." When she contacted the General Administration of Public Education to finance shipment of the works to Japan, the Administration shied away from the huge cost. She responded by setting up an exhibition of the same works in Rabat and

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8.11

8.12

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inviting high officials from the Protectorate Administration (fig. 8.12). She ultimately won financial support from the Foreign Office. The 100 paintings the Moroccan and French children sent to Tokyo swept 27 prizes, making them the first winners by far.17 The awards consisted of boxes of toys, chalk, and certificates in which "the names of the Moroccan and French participants were inscribed in Japanese," (fig. 8.13). 8.13

Jacqueline Brodskis Assimilates Moroccans to Western Art At the age of twenty-one and after graduating from the Paris École des Beaux-Arts in 1935, Jacqueline Brodskis was invited for a sabbatical sojourn in the Protectorate by her cousin Jean Gotteland, the third General Director of the Administration of Public Education. In Morocco she met and eventually married, Youra Brodskis, a Russian Lithuanian-born French citizen and chemist at the Rabat Agronomic Research Centre. During World War II, Youra was drafted into the Protectorate army, but died shortly after during the 1945 typhus plague. As a wife of a soldier who had died in active duty, Jacqueline Brodskis was recruited by the Service of Youth and Sport in Rabat, where she helped Gruner manage the Department of Plastic Arts (see Chapter Five for recruitment of instructors). As Gruner's assistant, Brodskis toured the workshops installed by the Service throughout the country, inspected their teaching methods, distributed tools and supplies, and posted notices to Moroccans who desired to become workshop coordinators.18 After the Gruners returned to France in 1955, Brodskis pursued the project as a "moral obligation" because, as she put it, she "was the only

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candidate who had closely assimilated Gruner's dictates." However, she broke with the guidelines of her forerunner by turning her attention to teaching coordinators the fundamentals of Western art. She explains this shift by pointing out that, had she remained in the country, Gruner would have developed her teaching methods to introduce Moroccans to Western art. Accordingly, when Brodskis addressed the coordinators she spoke to them about the nature of French painting and attempted to make them become aware that their taste and value judgement did not necessarily conform to the definition of "what painting was all about." She decided to not only educate their perceptual faculties but to nurture their artistic taste as well. She broadened Gruner's concept of art from a spontaneous expression into a means with which she could disseminate a number of principles of French visual culture as they related to painting. During private discussions with the author in 1999, in Rabat where she still lives, she maintained that her main concern consisted of helping the coordinators acquire "a new eye." Unlike Gruner, however, Brodskis defined the goal of the workshops as putting the coordinators in touch with European avant-garde painting. To this end, she showed them two paintings, one representational, the other abstract, and asked them to point out which painting they found most appealing in terms of forms and content. When they chose the figurative piece, Brodskis explained to them the qualities of modern abstract painting which differentiated it from figurative painting. The visual richness of abstraction, its imperviousness to representing the real world, and its self-referential nature in that it focused on form, colour, and texture, constituted the basic pictorial components in all types of paintings. During these theoretical discussions, Brodskis pinpointed that true artistic values did not depend on the taste of the viewer alone, but were grounded in conceptual frameworks residing in the work itself. In order to inculcate in the coordinators the "right value judgement," she constructed large panels of photographs illustrating episodes in the development of French painting. These sessions, however, did not represent definite lessons in art history, but enabled the trainees to differentiate, for example, a Henri Matisse from a Pierre Bonnard in terms of the pictorial concerns the two artists did or did not share. These and other examples she chose from the history of French art, helped her "prove to them" that "their artistic sensibility was not developed enough," and that their taste did not point to what "real painting had to offer." She explained that she patiently repeated the test until the coordinators succeeded in pointing out the "good" painting. A pressing question remains, though. How could Brodskis manage to involve Moroccans in learning "high art," while the French authorities

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sought to orient them toward "traditional crafts"? In her discussions with the author, Brodskis offered no answers and did not seem to be aware of the ramifications of her role. We have learned from the previous chapters that the Protectorate Administration did not represent, at least as concerns the education of the Moroccan poor, a tight system of unforgiving rules and regulations. In fact, as I have argued throughout this book, the vocational education projects remained flexible enough to incorporate a number of contradictions in its curricula and teaching methods. Though the Protectorate, as a colonial system, differed from other colonial experiences, the point remains that, as I illustrated briefly by citing in Chapter Seven the correspondence of Gotteland and the Lebanese director, the specificity of the Moroccan case caused the General Administration of Public Education to fail in designing a rigid system. "Failed" is perhaps too strong a word but, clearly, as long as the system proved efficient, it perpetuated and flourished, lending itself to dissemination in and incorporation by related institutions. We can, hence, deduce that Brodskis' intervention derived its impetus as much from a personal desire as by an official support. She accomplished what she did thanks to a large system of special relations which she cultivated with a number of French officials. As a cousin of Jean Gotteland, the third General Director of Public Education, and a close friend of Simone Gruner, whose husband held the office of a civil controller and who also benefited from a strong network of official affiliations, including a personal friendship with Jacques Nouvelle, head of the Service of Youth and Sport, Brodskis enjoyed the support of a group of French administrators who shared common ideas to some extent, and allowed her to act with a certain freedom. On the other hand, her action, primarily limited to teaching Moroccan coordinators the "rudimentary notions of modern French painting," paralleled the desire which the General Administration had in diffusing "new artistic practices" in craft workshops (see Chapter Seven). Brodskis’ supporters welcomed her project as a means with which to propagate the principles of French art further among Moroccans, an act that would increase the chance of assimilating them, to a point, into aspects of French culture. Miloud Labied and Mohamed Kacimi, two contemporary renowned Moroccan abstract painters, frequented her workshops in the mid 1950s, and she is well aware that this experience left its imprint on the course of their careers. The role Brodskis played in the formation of modern Moroccan artists went beyond its elitist aspect. She also became the catalyst for autodidact painters by selling their work to French and Americans residing in Morocco, a number of whom visited her home studio. She also arranged exhibitions for these painters in Europe. The self-taught artists she assisted included Fatima el-Farouj, Hassan el-Farouj, and Ahmed

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8.14

monitored their production and, at the same time, promoted a particular Moroccan art among European and American collectors. When confronted by the comment that today many Moroccans accuse her for having championed only "naive" painting as "the" Moroccan painting, she insisted that the works she promoted and marketed displayed a mastery of pictoriality and design and had a valid artistic value. Above all, she taxed her Moroccan critics as being too nationalistic and that, like all postcolonial subjects, they could not accept a French national teaching or

Louardighi, whom she recalls struck her with his "great and untarnished originality." However, she refused to allow any of these "naive" artists to participate in the workshops from fear that they might lose their "innocence," and also from fear she might be obliged to engage them in conceptual discussions about their paintings. She claims that, throughout her experience with them, she never played the role of "Madame le Protectorat" except when choosing works she thought would sell. But by the very fact of selecting paintings for exhibitions and for the market she, knowingly or unknowingly, guided and

8.15

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8.16

deciding for them what constituted art. This episode in Brodskis' life refutes the claim Daniel Rivet has made about her. Rivet, mentioned above, is a French scholar of the Protectorate. To my knowledge he is the only historian who ever cited Brodskis, yet when he did he described her as "a [French] painter immersed in Moroccan society." Rivet’s statement underscores good intentions rather than facts.19 Like Gruner, Brodskis spoke only French and relied on Moroccan translators in running the workshops as well as during their limited interactions with Moroccans. Brodskis has lived and continues to reside in Rabat in the same neighbourhood for the past thirty years. She explained that, because she never learned Moroccan Arabic, she only socialised with the French-speaking Moroccan elite and that most of the "other Moroccan society" remains foreign to her. She also acknowledged that she has become lately aware that her experience in Morocco had been couched in the politics of the Protectorate Administration, little different from the majority of the

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French during colonial rule. In the words of the French historian, Charles-André Julien, during the Protectorate "European colonists were a hegemonous entity when it came to their relation with the Moroccans." Both the vieux Morocains (veteran soldiers and first settlers) and the "late comers" considered themselves "Prospero who contributed, thanks to his magic, to transforming a savage land into a rich and civilised country." Of the 800,000 French colonists who immigrated to Morocco prior to World War II, 300,000 settled in the villes nouvelles.20 Julien claims that the European community had no contact with the Moroccans and ignored the fact that they even existed. The "petit blancs," or European non-French colonists who ranked at the lower scale of the community of "whites," had also developed "deep rooted hatred" of Moroccans. Even Americans were absorbed in this community, and "adopted stereotypes which constituted the essence of colonial doctrine."21 However, neither the claims by Julien nor the experience of Brodskis should tempt us into making generalisations about the behaviour of the French towards the Moroccans. Take the following example chosen from numerous cases found in the French archives. In 1932 Jeanne Guyot, a young French woman, applied for the job of assistant instructor in a women's vocational school in either Salé or Rabat (fig. 8.14-16). In her application letter to Jean Gotteland, the third General Director of Public Education, she wrote: I am 19 years old and a graduate from the Rabat school of house management. I was born on December 25, 1912 in Fez, where my father was a cavalry instructor at the Military French Mission to Morocco. I speak [Moroccan] Arabic as fluently as I speak French and I am able to translate verbally the two languages with aptitude. I practice the arts of clothe designing and cutting and sewing as well as a number of [local] embroidery stitches. I also know carpet weaving and typing. I have the necessary skills to teach young [Moroccan] Muslim girls in the familiarity of their culture and tradition in which I have lived all my young age. Please, Mr. General Director, accept my best wishes. P.S. I live with my parents in Salé. My father, Mr. Guyot, is Principal Chief Inspector of the Military Police in Rabat as well as a Reserve Officer and veteran soldier.22 Jeanne Guyot included with her application a letter from her father, René Guyot. The father, a "vieux Marocain" who arrived in Morocco in 1908 during Lyautey's first military expedition to Casablanca, reiterated his daughter’s mastery of Moroccan crafts and her assimilation of the Moroccan language and social manners. Also of interest in his letter is the

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citation that the Guyot family had lived in the Oudaias Kasbah in the Rabat medina for six years, which had "brought the Guyots into close contact" with many Moroccan families. In this and other examples the Protectorate does not emerge as rigid doctrinaire, determined by a driving force conceptualised by the French to maintain total spatial and social segregation between the French and the Moroccans. Spaces existed where the two communities met.

The Casablanca School of Fine Arts While the Open Workshops assembled together unschooled Moroccans and attempted to orient them into traditional craft professions, the School of Fine Arts in Casablanca channelled young Moroccans into European craft industries. Though first established in 1919 by the initiative of Edouart Brindeau, a French Orientalist painter, the Protectorate Administration officially inaugurated the school only when it understood that it could fulfil a specific function. Edouard Brindeau participated in France in numerous shows of Orientalist painters, in the Salons of L’Afrique Française, as well as in a number of Colonial Exhibitions. He began his Moroccan career by teaching drawing, as Gabriel-Rousseau did, in the Casablanca Lyautey High School created initially for French children (see Chapter Seven). In 1919 Lyautey charged Brindeau, Prosper Ricard, and the architect Maurice Tranchant de Lunel, with the mission to create inventories of the Moroccan visual heritage which then served them in drafting reforms of traditional industries as well as drawing up guidelines for the vocational schools. In 1923, along with Gabriel-Rousseau and George Hardy, the Second General Director of Public Education, Brindeau created in Casablanca La Kasbah, the first Association grouping French painters and sculptors residing in the Protectorate.23 In 1919 Brindeau had persuaded Lyautey and Hardy to create a school of Fine Arts in the heart of the Casablanca medina. An evening open workshop in essence, it enrolled high school graduates, French as well as Moroccan. At this early stage, students trained in les arts appliqués, or arts applied to architecture, interior design and decoration, architectural landscaping, in addition to drawing, painting, art history, and mathematics. The school had additional open workshops for students and instructors from other establishments as well as for European and Moroccan artists and craftsmen who wished to sharpen their artistic talent in drawing, painting, and ceramics. Among the first Moroccans enrolled was Abdeslam Ben Larbi el Fassi, whom, as I noted in the Introduction, was described by the art historian and art critic, Toni Maraini, as "the first Modern Moroccan artist."

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In fact Maraini left out from her account a significant episode of el Fassi’s encounter with Brindeau. We have seen how he met the French painter in the Jamaa al-Fana public square in Marrakesh. He approached Brindeau with a number of questions, and the latter learned that his sixteen year-old interlocutor, a student at the Fez Moulay Driss High School created for the Moroccan male elite, also painted. After seeing his work, Brindeau took a special interest and intervened on his behalf to Lyautey, who offered el Fassi a scholarship, allowing him to pursue his studies in the Casablanca School of Fine Arts.24 The Municipality Chief, four members of the Municipal Council, and the Director of the Lyautey High School designed and monitored the school’s bylaws, appointed its director, and mandated that instructors had to have French nationality. The school restricted enrolment to a small number of Moroccan notables. In an attempt to control the artistic activities of all students, the director prohibited them from participating in individual or collective exhibitions without his consent. Years later, the school expanded its curriculum and included fine arts courses. After a year of introductory lessons, student specialised in painting, sculpture, and architecture.25 Courses comprised sketching, drawing from plaster casts and the human figure, lettering, perspective, documentary study, architectural drafting, painting, and decorative moulding. The school enticed Moroccans to enrol by listing in its catalogues a variety of employment opportunities they could pursue after graduation. They could become art instructors, advertising designers, interior decorators, typesetters, and builders of maquettes (architectural scaled models). The curriculum focused essentially on forming Moroccans to become technicians to assist French architects, who had to meet the challenge of the thriving building construction industries in the European settlement. Throughout its remaining colonial years, the school pursued Brindeau's guideline outlining its role as utilitarian. It channelled most Moroccans toward mastering European crafts while it oriented the French toward fine arts. Brindeau, in fact, urged that the school had to "form [Moroccans] not as artists but as skilled craftsmen" who would meet the challenges of modern life which the Casablanca ville nouvelle required.26 Twenty years after the establishment of the Protectorate, Casablanca contained more than 120 factories of building materials (cement, reinforced concrete, and marble), the mining industry, electrical generators, explosives factories, the food industry (canned food, mills, breweries, and sugar and olive oil refineries), and the metallurgy industry.27 There also existed other industries geared toward the construction of roads, railroads, sewer systems, among other works. Building construction in the city and its port generated an industrial zone stretching 130 kilometres along the Atlantic front from Kenitra, to Salé, Rabat, Casablanca, and Fedala (now

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Mohammedia). In 1952 these projects in Casablanca alone reached 58 % of the total construction undertaken on the Atlantic coast. A year later, Morocco had 4,024 commercial and industrial firms, half of them in Casablanca.28 Literature on the Moroccan Protectorate has focused mainly on the objectives of French colonial power as a French enterprise and as overwhelmingly in the hands of the French only. It depicts French dominance as a monolithic phenomenon operating in a horizontal linear process that produced cultural and spatial segregation similar to that existing in France.29 Yet, the formation of urbanism and culture in the Protectorate did not depend solely on the French paradigm, nor did Moroccans live as a silent majority, since many of them benefited from the colonial situation. André Adam, a French historian of Casablanca, observed that the colonial encounter between Morocco and France resulted in a dual transformation. The first changed the built environment, while the second impinged on the minds of the Moroccans in ways that swayed them to adopt French cultural behaviours.30 In the Casablanca school Moroccans constituted only half the student body; French and Europeans made up the other half. The school encouraged the Moroccans to major in ceramics, architectural drafting and interior decoration, and to become assistants to French architects and interior designers, while the school prepared the French to take exams in the Écoles Supérieures des Beaux-Arts in France. In short, to use an expression Julien employed to categorise institutions in the Protectorate, the Casablanca school stood as a colonial establishment "plagued" by colonial prejudices. It had become a "fossilised" apparatus that maintained its power "par la force de l'habitude [coloniale]."31 Installed in Casablanca as an hegemonic device, the school assisted the French in training Moroccan students to meet the modern needs of the ville nouvelle. Above all, it created a channel through which an aspect of French culture, namely fine art training, was appropriated by Moroccans to some extent. Similar to the vocational schools, it relied on a pedagogy whose goal created a collective taste among them.32 Its strengthened the academic training of its French students by recruiting its teaching staff from among the well versed Academy and Orientalist artists, and in so doing, it contributed to the alienation of the Moroccan students at the level of personal and cultural identity, an alienation that was closely intertwined with the prevailing socio-economic structure. At the same time it shielded the majority of its Moroccan students from coming fully into contact with the traditions of French art. And like colonial economic and educational reforms, it promoted an integral colonial behaviour technology, or what Paul Rabinow called "Meddling

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Modernism"33 by controlling and disciplining the conduct of privileged Moroccans it accepted in its fine arts division. But the administration of the school also believed that, once diffused among carefully chosen Moroccans, though in small doses, French art culture would generate a consensus favouring French artistic norms, thus superimposing French cultural order over the pre-existing Moroccan system. In the Protectorate, just as a number of Moroccans were encouraged to assimilate the culture of the French, so, too, a small number of French adopted different aspects of Moroccan culture. Julien's claims are part of a trajectory of colonial criticism that ignores the fact that colonial society in Morocco produced essentially a relational mode within which a variety of different experiences melded together, and where different discourses emerged. In the following chapter I wish to emphasise how a number of postcolonial Moroccan artists have called into question the cultural and artistic domination created by French art education and visual culture. They challenged French cultural hegemony and its belittling of their crafts. They achieved this task by opposing the way French scholars categorised Moroccan arts and by legitimising their local visual culture, pointing to the possibility of engendering cultural meanings fit for the post-independence experience.

Notes Introduction 1 Charles-André Julien, Le Maroc face aux impérialismes, 1415-1956, (Paris: Éditions J.A., 1978), p. 107. 2 Charles-André Julien, Le Maroc, p. 107. 3 André Colliez, Notre Protectorat Marocain. La première étape, 1912-1930, (Paris: Librairie des Sciences Politiques et Sociales, 1930), p. 169. 4 For more on the concept of hegemony as defined by Gramsci, see J.M. Blaut, The Colonizer’s Model of the World. Geographical Diffusionism and Eurocentric History, (New York and London: The Guilford Press, 1995); Giuseppe Fiori, La vie de Antonio Gramsci, (Paris: Le Livre de Poche, 1977); Antonio Gramsci, Selections from Political Writings, 1921-1926, trans. and edit. by Quiting Hoare, (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1990); Antonio Gramsci, Selections from Cultural Writings, Edit. by David Forgacs & Geoffrey Nowell-Smith. Trans. by William Boelhower, (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1985); Antonio Gramsci, Selections from Political Writings, 1910-1920, selected and edit by Quiting Hoare, trans. by John Mathews, (New York: International Publishers, 1977); James Joll, Gramsci, (Glasgow: William Collins Sons and Co. Ltd., 1977). 5 See for example Samir Amin, The Maghreb in the Modern World: Algeria, Tunisia, Morocco, (Harmonds-Worth, 1970); Jacques Berque, French North Africa. The Maghrib Between Two World Wars, trans. Jean Stewart, (New York and Washington, Frederick A. Praeger, 1967); Charles-André Julien, Le Maroc; Abdellah Laroui, The History of the Maghrib: An Interpretive Essay, (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1977). 6 Michael W. Doyle, Empires, (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1986), p. 45. 7 Edward Said, Culture and Imperialism, (NY: Vintage Books, 1993), p. xxiii. 8 Daniel Rivet, Le Maroc de Lyautey à Mohamed V. Le double visage du Protectorat, (Denoël, 1999), pp. 2-23. 9 Charles-André Julien, Le Maroc, p. 99. 10 Daniel Rivet, Le Maroc, p. 33. 11 Daniel Rivet, Le Maroc, p. 20. 12 Charles Mourey, “Le Commerce du Protectorat français au Maroc de 1913 à 1915,” Renseignements coloniaux et documents 3, supplément to L’Afrique Française, (March 1917), 49-62. 13 Ch. Avonde, “Le Commerce extérieur du Maroc français en 1922, “Renseignements coloniaux et documents 10, supplement to L’Afrique Française, (October 1923), 365-383. 14 Capitaine Bézet, “Tirailleurs Marocains au front de France,” Renseignements coloniaux et documents 4, supplément to L’Afrique Française, (April 1917), 81-86. 15 “Ce que le Maroc a fourni au ravitaillement national,” Afrique Française, (Mai-June 1917), 22.23. 16 “La France au Maroc. Vingt-cinq ans de Protectorat (1912-1937),” Renseignements coloniaux et documents 8, supplément to L’Afrique Française, (August-September, 1937), 65-88. 17 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action artisanale à Fès, (Paris: Librairie du Recueil Sirey, 1940), p. 19. 18 Abdelkebir Khatibi, Maghreb Pluriel, (Paris: Éditions du Noël, 1983), p. 219. 19 Brahim Ben Hosani Alaoui, “Introduction à l’art contemporain arabe,” in Art contemporain arabe: Collection du Musée [de l’Institut du Monde Arabe], (Paris: Institut du Monde Arabe, n.d.), pp. 16-18. 20 F.M. El Fathémy, “La peinture marocaine: un an à l’échelle de notre temps,” Archives de la Villa des Arts, Casablanca, Morocco (cited hereafter AVA), [n.d]. 21 Toni Maraini, “Morocco,” Contemporary Art from the Islamic World, edited by Wijdan Ali, Northhampton, (MA: Interlink Publishing Group, Inc., 1990), pp. 211-218. 22 Maghreb Art 3, (Casablanca: École des Beaux-Arts, 1969). 23 Maghreb Art, (Casablanca: École des Beaux-Arts, 1965); Maghreb Art 3. 24 Fatima Mernissi, “Artiste ou Artisan?” [an interview with Farid Belkahia and Hassan Slaoui], Lamalif 129, (October-November, 1981), pp. 58-63 25 Edmond Amran El Maleh, “La peinture marocaine: Tradition et modernité,” in La Peinture Marocaine au rendez-vous de l’histoire, (Casablanca: Éditions Wafabank, 1988), pp. 19. 26 Toni Maraini, “Morocco,” p. 211. 27 Toni Maraini, “L’apport de l’esthétique arabo-islamique à la génèse de l’art moderne occidental,” in Art contemporain arabe, p. 53. 28 Toni Maraini, “Au Rendez-vous de l’histoire, la peinture,” in La Peinture Marocaine, pp. 25-50; See also B. Saint-Aignan, La Renaissance de l’Art Musulman au Maroc, (Casablanca: Imprimerie de Fedala, 1954), pp.18-19. 29 Toni Maraini, “Le Rôle historique des arts populaires,” Integral 1, (October, 1971), 6-8. 30 Toni Maraini, “Le Rôle historique,” p. 9. 31 Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish. The Birth of the Prison, (New York: Vintage Books, second edition, 1995), p. 300. 32 Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 294.

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33 Robert G. Wesson, The Imperial Order, (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1967), p. iii. 34 André Colliez, Notre Protectorat Marocain, p. 280-181. 35 E. P. Thompson, “Time, Work-Discipline, and Industrial Capitalism,” Past and Present 38, (December 1967), 56-97. 36 M. Gabriel-Rousseau, Méthodes de dessin à l’usage des écoles musulmanes (n.p. n.d.), p. 1. 37 Bulletin de l’Enseignement Public 72, (February 1926), 35-41. 38 L. Bouillot, “L’atelier de broderie. Project de Création d’un atelier de tapis,” Salé, December 15th, 1914, Ministère des Affaires Étrangères, Nantes, France; Archives Diplomatiques de Nantes (cited hereafter as ADN), DIP 25, pp. 2-3; No 959 du Lieutenant, Chef des Services Municipaux de la Ville de Salé au Commissaire Résident Général, Direction de l’Enseignement, Rabat, “Atelier de Broderies de Salé,” Salé, December 18, 1914, ADN, DIP 25, p. 3. 39 “Lettre de Mademoiselle Bazet, Directrice de l’École-Ouvroir de Rabat à Monsieur le Directeur de l’Enseignement,” Rabat, January 16th, 1921, ADN, DIP 22, p. 4. 40 Yvette Katan, Oujda, une ville frontière du Maroc (1907-1956). Musulmans, Juifs et Chrétiens en milieu colonial, (Paris: Éditions l’Harmattan), [1990]. 41 Kenneth Brown, People of Salé. Tradition and Change in a Moroccan City, 1830-1930, (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1976). 42 Daniel Rivet, Lyautey et l’institution du protectorate français au Maroc, 1912-1925, 3 volumes, (Paris: Editions l’Harmattan, 1988). 43 Daniel Rivet, Le Maroc. 44 Reina Lewis, Gendering Orientalism. Race, Femininity and Representation, (London: Routledge, 1996), pp. 4-5. 45 Gwendolyn Wright, The Politics of Design in French Colonial Urbanism, (Chicago, Il: University of Chicago Press, 1991), p. 123. 46 Robert G. Wesson, The Imperial Order, p. 35. 47 Robert G. Wesson, The Imperial Order, p. 35.

Part One: Classifications and Associations Chapter One: Framing Morocco’s Crafts 1 M. Bourgeois, “L’Artisanat fassi depuis la guerre,” Exposé No. 19, Centre de Hautes Etudes d’Administration Musulmane, (cited herafter cited as CHEAM), November 3, 1941, p. 2. 2 Paul Odinot, Le monde marocain, [n.p], 1926; G. Hardy & J. Célérier, Les Grandes lignes de la géographie du Maroc, 2nd ed. (n.p., 1927). 3 Janet L. Abu-Lughod, “The Islamic City—Historic Myth, Islamic Essence, and Contemporary Relevance,” International Journal of MiddleEastern Studies 19, (1987), 155-176. 4 Prosper Ricard, L’Artisanat Indigène en Afrique du Nord, Rapport déposé par M. Prosper Ricard, Chef du Service des Arts Indigènes au Maroc. Conférence Economique Impériale, Paris, Mars 1935, (Rabat: École du Livre, 1935), p. 1. 5 Ricard, Prosper, Les Arts marocains et leur renovation, ( Bordeaux: Imprimerie Cadoret, 1930), p. 10. 6 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 9; M. Delmas-Fort, “Modernisation de l’artisanat marocain,” CHEAM, November 27, 1950, p. 3. 7 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 9; M. Delmas-Fort, “Modernisation de l’artisanat,” p. 6. 8 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 10. 9 Edward W. Said, Orientalism, (New York: Vintage Books, 1979). 10 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocain, p. 9. 11 Henri Terrasse, “Le sense artistique des Marocains,” Bulletin de l’enseignement public au Maroc, (1924), p. 274. 12 Georges Hardy, L’Ame marocaine d’après la littérature française, (Paris: Librairie Larose, 1926), p. 47. 13 Terrasse, H & J. Hainaut, Les Arts Décoratifs au Maroc, (Paris: Laurens, 1925), p. 9; Georges Hardy, L’Ame marocaine, p. 47. 14 George Hardy, L’Ame marocaine, p. 51. 15 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 26. 16 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 17; M. Delmas-Fort, “Modernisation de l’artisanat,” p. 1. 17 M. Delmas-Fort, “Modernisation de l’artisanat,” p. 7. 18 Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne à Fès en 1900, (Paris: Librairie Hachette, 1965), p. 104. 19 Terrasse, H & J. Hainaut, Les Arts Décoratifs, p. 52. 20 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 5. 21 Maurice Le Glay, Le chat aux oreilles percées, (Paris: Plon-Nourrit, 1922), p. 138.

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22 Malek Alloula, The Colonial Harem, trans. Myrna Godzich and Wlad Godzich, (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota, 1986), pp. 4-5. 23 Louis Massignon, “Enquête sur les corporations d’artisans et de commerçants au Maroc (19231924). D’après les réponses au questionnaire transmis par circulaire du 15 novembre 1923 sous le timbre de la Direction des Affaires Indigènes et du Service des Renseignements,” Revue du Monde Musulman 58, (1924). Deuxième section. (Paris: Editions Ernest Leroux; Reprint Lichtenstein, Nendeln Kraus Reprint, 1974). 24 Daniel Rivet, Le Maroc, pp. 20, 33, 20. 25 Prosper Ricard, L’Artisanat Indigène, p. 6. 26 Prosper Ricard, L’Artisanat Indigène, p. 7. 27 Kenneth L. Brown, People of Salé, p. 120. 28 Jérôme & Jean Tharaud, Fès ou les bourgeois de l’Islam, (Paris: Librairie Plon, 1930), p. 63. 29 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 11. 30 M. Delmas-Fort, “Modernisation de l’artisanat,” p. 7. 31 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 6. 32 M. Delmas-Fort, “Modernisation de l’artisanat,” pp. 2-4. 33 Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne, pp. 99-101. 34 Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne, p. 87. 35 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 6. 36 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 4. 37 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 3. 38 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 3. 39 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 19. 40 M. Bourgeois, “L’Artisanat fassi,” p. 1. 41 M. Lemaire, “Note rapide d’après conversation avec Maati Djouri l’amin des Tanneurs. Corporation des tanneurs de Rabat. Organisation Générale,” March 13, 1916, AND, DACh 73, p. 3. For a detailed description of the religious celebration Fez guilds organized, see Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne, pp. 108-110. 42 Kenneth Brown, People of Salé, p. 139. 43 Kenneth Brown, People of Salé, p. 139. 44 Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 146. 45 Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne, p. 90. 46 Lemaire, “Note rapide d’apres,” p. 2. 47 Kenneth L. Brown, People of Salé, p. 139. 48 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 20; Kenneth L. Brown, People of Salé, p. 137. 49 M. Lemaire, “Note Sommaire,” p. 1; Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 4. 50 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 20. 51 Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne, p. 112. 52 A.R. De Lens, “Un prévôt des marchands au XXe siècle,” France-Maroc 4, (Avril 15, 1919), pp. 110-111; 110. 53 A.R. De Lens, “Un prévôt des marchands,” pp. 111. 54 A.R. De Lens, “Un prévôt des marchands,” p. 111. 55 Kenneth L. Brown, People of Salé, p. 151. 56 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 22. 57 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 13. 58 Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne, p. 88. 59 Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne, p. 96. 60 Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne, pp. 89-90. 61 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 28. 62 Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne, p. 103. 63 Kenneth L. Brown, People of Salé, p. 130. 64 Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne, pp. 103-104. 65 Kenneth L. Brown, People of Salé, p. 126. 66 Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne, p. 104; Kenneth L. Brown, People of Salé, p. 150. 67 M. Bourgeois, “L’Artisanat fassi,” pp. 2-3. 68 Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne, p. 104. 69 Kenneth L. Brown, People of Salé, p. 150.

Chapter Two: Diffusing Colonial Order 1 La Commission Artisanal, “Procès-Verbal,” April 13, 1938, p. 8, ADN, DIP 92. 2 M. Lemaire, “Note rapide.” p. 3. ADN, DACh 73; No 2426 du Colonel Commandant la Région

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de Rabat au Résident Général, “Procés-Verbal de la séance du 10 mars du Comité des Etudes Economiques de Rabat,” Rabat, March 10, 1916, ADN, DACh 73; Lettre de René Leclerc, Chef du Service du Commerce et de l’Industrie à l’Intendant Général Délégué dans les fonctions de Délégué à la Résidence Générale, Secrétaire Général du Protectorat, “Exportations sur Tanger de cuirs tannés à Rabat,” Rabat, November 21, 1917, ADN, DACh 73. 3 No 2426 du Colonel Commandant la Région de Rabat, “Procés-Verbal”; No. 1533 S.E. du Secrétaire Général du Gouvernement Chérifien au Secrétaire Général du Protectorat. Industrie des babouches à Rabat et Salé,” Rabat, June 20, 1916, ADN, DACh 73. 4 Lettre de René Leclerc, “Exportations sur Tanger”; Lettre de El Hadj el-Maati Djorio, Chef de la corporation des tanneurs à Marc, Conseiller du Gouvernement Chérifien, October 8, 1917, ADN, DACh 73; No 2198 du Conseiller du Gouvernement Chérifien à la Résidence Générale, “Requête de la corporation des tanneurs de Rabat,” October 26, 1917, ADN, DACh 73. 5 Lemaire, “Note rapide,” p. 4. 6 Lettre de El Hadj el-Maati Djorio à Marc; No 88 du Résident Général aux Services Municipaux, “Exportations des peaux tannées,” January 9, 1918, ADN, DACh 73; No 564 D. de Boissonas, Ministre Plénopotentiaire, chargé de l’Agence et Consulat Général de France à Tanger au Commissaire Résident Général de France à Rabat, “Importation à Tanger des cuirs de Rabat et de Fèz,” Tanger, November 15, 1917, ADN, DACh 73; No 4529 S.G.P. de l’Intendant Général, Délégué à la Résidence Générale p.i. au Conseiller du Gouvernement Chérifien, “Exportation sur Tanger des cuirs tannés à Rabat,” Rabat, November 23, 1917, ADN, DACh 73; No 5209 S.G.P. de l’Intendant Général, Délégué à la Résidence Générale p.i. Secrétaire Général du Protectorat de la France au Maroc au Conseiller du Gouvernement Chérifien, “Exportation des peaux tannées,” Rabat, December 24, 1917, ADN, DACh 73; Lettre du Grand Vizir au Pacha de Rabat, “Exportation des peaux tannées,” Rabat, December 1917, ADN, DIP 73; No 1583 de Sorbier, l’Intendant Général Délégué à la Résidence Générale au Chef des Services Municipaux de Rabat, “Exportations de peaux sur Tanger,” March 28, 1918, ADN, DACh 73. 7 No 188 de Berge, “l’Administrateur Chef des Services Municipaux de Rabat au Secrétaire Général du Protectorat à Rabat,” Rabat, January 14, 1916, ADN, DACh 73, p. 1. 8 No 188 de Berge au Secrétaire Général, p. 2. 9 “Note sommaire au sujet de l’organisation corporative,” [n.d.], ADN, DACh 73, p. 3. 10 “Note sommaire.” [n.d.], p. 4. 11 No 11204 E.P. de Hardy au Secrétaire Général du Protectorat, Rabat, October 20, 1920, ADN, DACh 73. 12 No 2770 D.R.2/2 du Lieutenant Colonel Huot, Directeur des Affaires Indigènes au Service des Renseignements du Maroc au Secrétaire Général du Protectorat, Résidence Général, Rabat, November 10, 1920, ADN, DACh 73, p. 2. 13 No 2770 D.R.2/2 de Huot au Secrétaire Général du Protectorat, p. 2. 14 La Commission de l’Artisanat, “Procés-Verbal,” April 13, 1938, ADN, DIP 92, p. 11. 15 No 5727 C.I. de Avonde, Chef du Service du Commerce et de l’Industrie au Directeur Général du Protectorat, Résidence Générale, “Au sujet de l’organisation corporative au Maroc,” Rabat, November 12, 1920, ADN, DACh 73, p. 6. 16 No 5727 C.I. de Avonde, “Au sujet de l’organisation,” p. 5. 17 “Note sommaire.” [n.d.], p. 4. 18 No 5727 C.I. de Avonde, “Au sujet de l’organisation,” p. 2. 19 No 5727 C.I. de Avonde. “Au sujet de l’organisation,” p. 4. 20 No 5727 C.I. de Avonde. “Au sujet de l’organisation,” pp. 4-5. 21 No 5727 C.I. de Avonde. “Au sujet de l’organisation,” p. 6. 22 Daniel Rivet, Lyautey et l’instauration du Protectorat, , Volume III, pp. 196-197. 23 “Note sommaire.” [n.d.], p. 1. 24 Lettre du Conseiller du Gouvernement Chérifien au Secrétaire Général du Protectorat, Résidence Générale, “Au sujet de l’organisation corporative,” Meknes, November 28, 1920, ADN, DACh 73, p. 1. 25 Lettre du Conseiller du Gouvernement Chérifien “Au sujet de l’organisation corporative,” p. 2. 26 Lettre du Conseiller du Gouvernement Chérifien, “Au sujet de l’organisation corporative,” p. 3. 27 M. Delmas-Fort, “Modernisation de l’artisanat marocain,” 10. 28 No 2426 du Colonel Commandant la Région de Rabat, “Procés-Verbal.” 29 Lettre du Conseiller du Gouvernement Chérifien, “Au sujet de l’organisation corporative,” p. 3. 30 Lettre du Conseiller du Gouvernement Chérifien, “Au sujet de l’organisation corporative,” p. 3. 31 Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne, p. 92. 32 Lettre du Conseiller du Gouvernement Chérifien, “Au sujet de l’organisation corporative,” p. 4. 33 Lettre du Conseiller du Gouvernement Chérifien, “Au sujet de l’organisation corporative,” p. 4. 34 Kenneth L. Brown, People of Salé, p. 136. 35 Kenneth L. Brown, People of Salé, p. 139.

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36 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, pp. 20; 25. 37 Lettre de Nèzière au Conseiller du Gouvernement Chérifien, “L’Organisation corporative,” January 21, 1921, ADN, DACh 73, p. 2. 38 Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne à Fès, p. 105. 39 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 23. 40 Lettre de Nèzière, “L’Organisation corporative,” p. 2. 41 Quoted in Prosper Ricard, L’Artisanat indigène, p. 3. 42 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains et leur renovation, Bordeaux: Imprimerie Cadoret, 1930, p. 13. 43 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 13. 44 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 17. 45 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 18. 46 Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Culture, New York: Basic Books, Inc. 1973, p. 19. 47 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 15. 48 Prosper Ricard, L’Artisanat indigène, p. 11. 49 Kenneth L. Brown, People of Salé, p. 128. 50 Roger Le Tourneau, Évolution politique de l’Afrique du Nord Musulmane, 1920-1961, (Paris: Librairie Armand Collin, 1962), p. 194. 51 Roger Le Tourneau, Évolution politique, p. 194. 52 M. Bourgeois, “L’Artisanat fassi,” pp. 2-3. 53 M. Bourgeois, “L’Artisanat fassi,” pp. 2-3. 54 M. Bourgeois, “L’Artisanat fassi.” p.1. 55 La Commission de l’Artisanat, “Procés-Verbal,” pp. 4-5. 56 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, pp. 9-10. 57 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 10. 58 M. Bourgeois, “L’Artisanat fassi,” p. 12. 59 M. Bourgeois, “L’Artisanat fassi,” p. 3. 60 La Commission de l’Artisanat, “Procés-Verbal,” p. 6. 61 La Commission de l’Artisanat, “Procés-Verbal,” pp. 7-8. 62 Jérôme and Jean Tharaud, Fès ou les bourgeois de l’Islam. p. 66. 63 La Commission de l’Artisanat, “Procés-Verbal,” p. 8. 64 La Commission de l’Artisanat, “Procés-Verbal.” 8. 65 S. de F/F.G Office Cherifien de Controle et d’Exportation, “Note sur les possibilités d’exportation de l’artisanat marocain et l’action à engager par le comptoir artisanal pour developer cette exportation,” [1951], ADN, CC 5a. 66 M. Delmas-Fort, “Modernisation de l’artisanat,” p. 6.

Part Two: Design and Process of Colonial Education Chapter Three: Colonial Mass Education 1 See for example Ahmad Ba Hnini, Tarbiyatu an-nash’e al-maghribi, Al-Widad, April 1, 1941, p. 2; see also Le Directeur de l’Enseignement, “Note,” Rabat, November 1st, 1912, AND, DIP 6; “Traduction de la Lettre de Si M’hammed el Hadjoui, délégué à l’Instruction Publique au Général Brulard, Commandant les Territoires du Sud, [1913], ADN, DIP 14; No 2484 E.P. de Georges Hardy à l’Inspecteur de l’Enseignement Primaire à Fez, February 1920, ADN, DIP 6; L. Brunot, Inspecteur chef du Bureau de l’Enseignement des Indigènes, Rabat, April 25, 1927, ADN, DIP 5; L. Brunot, Chef du Service de l’Enseignement des Indigènes, “Propos sur l’Education dans l’Enseignement des Indigènes,” [1927], ADN; DIP 33; L. Brunot, “Plaçons nos élèves,” [1935], ADN, DIP 38; No 9569 I.P./3 de Gotteland au Général Commandand la Région de Marrakech, “Enseignement des indigènes musulmans,” Novembrer 28, 1932, ADN, DIP 14. 2 André Colliez, Notre Protectorat Marocain, p. 284. 3 Colliez, Notre Protectorat Marocain, p. 256. 4 Joseph Chailley, “La Politique coloniale de la France,” in Exposition Franco-Marocaine de Casablanca. Conférence Franco-Marocaine. Vol. II. Variétés Franco-Marocaines, (Paris: Librairie Plon, 1917), p. 18. 5 Chailley, “La Politique coloniale,” pp. 18-20. 6 Léopold de Saussure, Psychologie de la Colonisation Française dans ses rapports avec les societe indigènes, Paris: Felix Alcan, 1899, p. 23. 7 De Saussure. Psychologie de la Colonisation, p. 31. 8 Gustave Le Bon, Les Premières civilisations, (Paris: C. Marpon et E. Flammarion editeurs), 1889, p. 15.

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9 De Saussure, Psychologie de la Colonisation, p. 65. 10 Gustave Le Bon, Les Premières civilisations, p. 14. 11 De Saussure, Psychologie de la Colonisation, p. 7. 12 Chailley, “La Politique coloniale,” p. 20. 13 Edouard Herriot et al., eds. La Politique Republicaine, (Paris: Librairie Félix Alcan, 1924), p. 405. 14 Edouard Herriot, La Politique Republicaine, p. 396. 15 René Meunier, Sociologie Coloniale. Introduction à l’Etude du contact des races, (Paris: Les Éditions Domant-Montchrestien, 1932), pp. 12, 51. 16 René Meunier, Sociologie Coloniale, pp. 61-64. 17 Albert Sarrault, Grandeur et servitudes coloniales, 17th edition, (Paris: Éditions du Sagitaires, 1931), p. 166. 18 René Meunier, Sociologie Coloniale, p. 66. 19 Chailley, “La Politique coloniale,” p. 19. 20 Colliez, Notre Protectorat Marocain, p. 188. 21 De Saussure, Psychologie de la Colonisation, 22 De Saussure, Psychologie de la Colonisation, p. 114. 23 De Saussure, Psychologie de la Colonisation, p. 120. 24 De Saussure, Psychologie de la Colonisation, p. 123. 25 De Saussure, Psychologie de la Colonisation, p. 124. 26 De Saussure, Psychologie de la Colonisation, p. 125. 27 De Saussure, Psychologie de la Colonisation, p. 126. 28 Albert Sarrault, Grandeur et servitudes, p. 159. 29 Albert Sarrault, Grandeur et servitudes, p. 159. 30 Gaston Loth, “L’Enseignement public au Maroc,” in Exposition Franco-Marocaine de Casablanca. Conférences Franco-Marocaines. Volume I. L’Œuvre du Protectorat, (Paris: Librairie Plon, 1917), p. 246. 31 “L’Enseignement professionnel dans les écoles indigènes au Maroc en 1929,” Les Annales Coloniales, Trente-deuxième année, (June 15, 1931), pp. 1-2. 32 “L’Enseignement professionnel,” pp. 1-2. 33 Colliez, Notre Protectorat Marocain, p. 272. 34 Colliez, Notre Protectorat Marocain, p. 283. 35 Colliez, Notre Protectorat Marocain, p. 271. 36 Le Directeur Général de l’Instruction Publique, des Beaux-Arts et des Antiquités, “L’Association du Commerce, de l’Industrie et de l’Agriculture pour l’Enseignement Professionnel au Maroc,” June 8, 1938, ADN, DIP 12. 37 Lettre de G. Gillet, Président de l’Association du Commerce, de l’Industrie et de l’Agriculture au Directeur Général de l’Instruction Publique à Rabat, Casablanca, May 13, 1938, ADN, DIP 12, p. 2; Le Directeur Général de l’Instruction Publique, “L’Association du Commerce.” 38 Le Directeur Général de l’Instruction Publique. “L’Association du Commerce.” 39 Le Président de l’Association du Commerce et de l’Industrie pour l’enseignement professionnel au Maroc (3), Casablanca, January 11, 1938, ADN, DIP 12, p. 3. 40 Note au sujet de l’utilisation des travailleurs saisonniers marocains dans l’agriculture française, June 8, 1938, ADN, DIP 12. 41 Le Président de l’Association du Commerce et de l’Industrie pour l’enseignement professionnel au Maroc (3), pp. 3, 1. 42 Le Président de l’Association du Commerce et de l’Industrie pour l’enseignement professionnel au Maroc (3), pp. 3, 2. 43 No 5283 bis I.P/3-t du Service de l’enseignement musulman à M.M. les Directeurs des Collèges Moulay Youssef, Rabat; Moulay Idriss, Fès; Sidi Mohamed, Marrakech; Berbère, Azrou, à M.M. les Inspecteurs de l’enseignement musulman, Oujda, Fèz, Mèknes, Rabat, Casablanca, Marrakech, Rabat, July 4, 1942, AND, DIP 5. 44 No 1414 I.P./3 de L. Brunot, Rabat, April 20, 1935, AND, DIP 5. 45 Le Président de l’Association du Commerce et de l’Industrie pour l’enseignement professionnel au Maroc (3), pp. 3, 2. 46 Le Président de l’Association du Commerce et de l’Industrie pour l’enseignement professionnel au Maroc (3), pp. 3, 2. 47 Lettre de Gillet.

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Chapter Four: Vocational Schools for Men and the French Infiltration of Morocco’s Traditional Industry 1 La Commission de l’Artisanat, “Procès-Verbal,” April 13, 1938, ADN, DIP 92, p. 22. 2 Séance du Comité Economiques de Marrakech du 12 Mai 1917, “Main d’oeuvre dans la région de Marrakech. Rapport de M. Schacher,” ADN, DIP 10, p. 1. 3 Séance du Comité Economiques de Marrakech, p. 2. 4 Séance du Comité Economiques de Marrakech, p. 3. 5 “Note relative à l’enseignement professionnel dans les écoles de la Casbah et de Sidi Bel Abbes,” [Marrakech, 1916], ADN, DIP 10. 6 No L 388 E.P. du Director de l’Enseignement au Maroc à Monsieur le Commandant de la Région de Marrakech, “Organisation de l’Enseignement professionnel,” Rabat, November 18 1916, ADN, DIP 10. 7 “Note relative à l’enseignement professionnel.” 8 Bordas, Inspecteur Primaire, “École Musulmane El Akkari de Rabat. Note de Service,” April 1, 1917, ADN, DIP 19. 9 Séance du Comité Economiques de Marrakech, p. 4. 10 Séance du Comité Economiques de Marrakech, p. 5. 11 Séance du Comité Economiques de Marrakech, p. 5. 12 Éxécution des Instructions données à Monsieur Marty par le Conseil de Politiques Indigènes. Procès-Verbal de la 17ème Séance, January 23, 1923, “L’Apprentissage Industriel à Fès,” ADN, DIP 4, p. 3. 13 L’Adjudant Courrière, Director Auxilliaire à Monsieur l’Inspecteur de l’Enseignement de la Région de Fèz, “Rapport sur l’organisation de l’École Franco-Arabe: Section d’Apprentissage de Fèz Djedid,” Fèz, December 4, 1918, ADN, DIP 4, p. 8. 14 L’Adjudant Courrière, p. 1. 15 Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne à Fès, p. 101. 16 L’Adjudant Courrière, p.1. 17 L’Adjudant Courrière, pp. 3-4. 18 L’Adjudant Courrière, p. 4. 19 L’Adjudant Courrière, p. 4. 20 L’Adjudant Courrière, p. 5. 21 L’Adjudant Courrière, p. 6. 22 Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish, pp. 231-232. 23 L’Adjudant Courrière, p. 7. 24 L’Adjudant Courrière, p. 8. 25 Quoted in “Paul Marty (1882-1938),” Hommes et Destins. Vol. VII. Maghreb-Machrek, Publication de l’Académie des Sciences d’Outre-Mer. Travaux et Mémoires, (Paris: Académie des Sciences d’Outre-Mer, n.d), p. 332. 26 Éxécution des Instructions, p. 4. 27 Éxécution des Instructions, p. 1. 28 Éxécution des Instructions, pp. 3,1. 29 Éxécution des Instructions, p. 4. 30 Éxécution des Instructions, p. 1. 31 Éxécution des Instructions, p. 3. 32 No. 2456 de l’Inspecteur de l’Enseignement Professionnel Indigène à Monsieur le Director Général de l’Instruction Publique à Rabat, “Rapport sur l’École d’Apprentissage de Fès,” Casablanca, May 3, 1927, ADN, DIP 4. 33 L. Brunot, Inspecteur, Chef du Bureau de l’Enseignement des Indigènes, “Statistiques de l’Enseignement des Indigènes,” August 24, 1927, ADN, DIP 5, p. 4. 34 L. Brunot, p.3. 35 L. Brunot, p. 6. 36 Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 231. 37 L. Brunot, p. 1. 38 L. Brunot, pp. 5, 8. 39 Gaston Loth, “L’Enseignement public au Maroc,” p. 251. 40 Ali Trablusi, Kalima fi at-ta`lim bi al-ayyala ash-sharifah, As-Sa`ada 22 (September 20, 1921), 1-2. 41 Ali Trablusi, Kalima fi at-ta`lim, pp. 1-2; Madarisuna fi sabili at-taqadum, Idhhar al-Haq 119, June 1, 1929, p 2. 42 No 12862 de Georges Hardy, Director Général de l’Instruction Publique, des Beaux-Arts et des Antiquités aux Inspecteurs de l’Enseignement Primaire, “Organisation de l’apprentissage,” Rabat, November 15, 1922, ADN, DIP 12.

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43 “Comité de Patronage de l’École El Akkari et de l’École Ouvroir de Rabat,” October 1917, ADN, DIP 19. 44 For more on Reneé Bazet see Hamid Irbouh, “French Colonial Art Education and the Moroccan Feminine Milieu: A Case Study from Fez, 1927-1930,” The Maghreb Review Vol. 25, Nos. 3-4, (2000) [published Spring 2002], 275-288. 45 “Comité de Patronage de l’École El Akkari.” 46 No 12862 de Georges Hardy. 47 “Compte Rendu de l’Assemblée Générale du Comité de Patronage de l’École Musulmane d’Apprentissage de Marrakech,” April 10 1936, ADN, DIP 14, p. 1. 48 “Compte Rendu de l’Assemblée Générale,” p. 1. 49 “Compte Rendu de l’Assemblée Générale,” p. 2. 50 “Compte Rendu de l’Assemblée Générale,” p. 2. 51 “Copie du Procès-Verbal de l’Assemblée Générale Annuelle du Comité de Patronage de l’École Musulmane d’Apprentissage de Marakech,” June 6, 1934, ADN, DIP 14, p. 1. 52 The Committee administration board included: honorary presidents: The General Commanding the Region, and the Pasha of Marrakesh; President: M. Doré, an industrialist; French vice president: the president of the joint Chamber and the deputy of the Third College; the Moroccan vice presidents: Ahmad al Biaz, the Marrakesh Khalifa of the Pasha, and al Haj Thami al Hbabi, president of the Moroccan section of commerce and agriculture; French members: the Chief of the Regional Bureau of Native Affairs, M. Amphoux and M. Aurenge, both industrialists; Secretary: Mr. Montel, director of the Marrakesh vocational school; Treasurer: Mr. Malval, Instructor at the school; the Moroccan members included: Ahmad ben Muhammad Ben Abd ar-Rahmane M’Tougui, the Marrakesh muhtasib; Lhoussine Kabbaj and Haj Omar Wald Taleb, former Inspectors at the Municipal Service; Boujam`a Ben al Haj Brahim, amin of the ironsmith guild; Al- Haj Aomar, amin of the carpenter guild; and Ahmad al Ghazi, Amin of the basket weavers guild. No 472 R.M. du Général de la Division Huré Commandant la Région de Marrakech au Director Général de l’Instruction Publique, des Beaux-Arts et des Antiquités, “Comité de patronage de l’école musulmane d’apprentissage de Marrakech,” Marrakech, January 26, 1931, ADN, DIP 14, p. 2; No 2958 du Director Général de l’Instruction Publique, des Beaux-Arts et des Antiquités au Maroc au Général de Division Huré, Commandant la Région (Affaires Indigènes) de Marrakech, “Comité de Patronage musulmane d’apprentissage,” Rabat, December 5, 1930, ADN, DIP 14. 53 No 472 R.M. du Général de la Division Huré, p. 3. 54 “Copie du Procès-Verbal de l’Assemblée Générale Annuelle,” p. 2. 55 “Copie du Procès-Verbal de l’Assemblée Générale Annuelle,” p. 2. 56 No 24 C. de Jean Rabaud, Chef des Services Municipaux de la Ville de Casablanca au Ministre Plénipotentiaire délégué à la Résidence Générale à Rabat, Casablanca, August 20, 1929, ADN, DIP 12, p. 1. 57 No 24 C. de Jean Rabaud, p. 2. 58 No 24 C. de Jean Rabaud, p. 2. 59 No 24 C. de Jean Rabaud, p. 3. 60 No 24 C. de Jean Rabaud, p. 3. 61 No 24 C. de Jean Rabaud, p. 4. 62 Respectively, Le Controlleur Civil, Chargé de l’Expédition des affaires courantes de la région de la Chaouia, “Confidentiel No 413 D.C. Vu et Transmis,” Casablanca, August 21, 1929, ADN, DIP 12, p. 6 and No 24 C. de Jean Rabaud, p. 5. 63 Fluchy. Inspection de l’Enseignement Professionnel Musulman. “École Professionnelle de Mazagan,” 1931, ADN, DIP 15.

Chapter Five: Women’s Vocational Schools: The French Organize the Feminine Milieu 1 No 2457 du Chef de Bataillon Bussy, Adjoint au Consul de France pour l’Administration de RabatSalé et la banlieue, au Résident Général, Direction de l’Enseignement, Rabat, November 20, 1913, ADN, DIP 25. 2 No 2647 du Chef de Bataillon Bussy, Adjoint au Consul de France pour l’Administration de RabatSalé et la banlieue, au Résident Général, Direction de l’Enseignement, Rabat, December 5 1913, ADN, DIP 25. 3 No 2647 du Chef de Bataillon Bussy.

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4 Mlle L. Bouillot, “ État moral de la femme musulmane. Ses dispositions à l’égard de la Française. Son instruction. Ce qu’elle attend de nous. Rapport sur les possibilités d’installation à Salé d’un ouvroir pour les jeunes filles musulmanes. Decembre 1913,” Salé, October 15-November 1, 1913, ADN, DIP 25, p. 3; No 2457 du Chef de Bataillon Bussy. 5 No 2647 du Chef de Bataillon Bussy. 6 Mlle L. Bouillot, “ État moral de la femme musulmane,” p. 1. 7 Mlle L. Bouillot, “ État moral de la femme musulmane,” p. 1. 8 Mlle L. Bouillot, “ État moral de la femme musulmane,” p. 1. 9 Mlle L. Bouillot, “ État moral de la femme musulmane,” p. 1. 10 Mlle L. Bouillot, “ État moral de la femme musulmane,” p. 2. 11 L. Bouillot, “L’atelier de Broderie. Projet de création d’un atelier de Tapis,” Salé, December 15, 1914, ADN, DIP 25, p. 1; see also Hamid Irbouh, “French Colonial Art Education,” pp. 275-288. 12 13 L. Bouillot, “L’atelier de Broderie,” p. 1. No 700 du Gérant du consulat de France à Rabat au Commissaire Résident Général de France au Maroc, Rabat, November 1913, ADN, DIP 25. 14 No 403 du Lieutenant Marion, Chef des services municipaux de la ville de Salé au Chef de Bataillon adjoint au Consul de France, “Au Sujet de l’enseignement de la broderie à Salé,” Salé, October 29, 1913, ADN, DIP 25. 15 No 403 du Lieutenant Marion. 16 Mlle L. Bouillot, “État moral de la femme musulmane,” p. 2. 17 Mlle L. Bouillot, “État moral de la femme musulmane,” p. 2. 18. Mlle Bouillot, “L’École Ouvroir de Salé. Son Installation. Son Organisation,” Salé, January 1st, 1914, ADN, DIP 25, p. 2. 19 20 No 2457 du Chef de Bataillon Bussy; No 2647 du Chef de Bataillon Bussy. No 2917 du Chef de Bataillon Bussy, Adjoint au Consul de France pour l’Administration de Rabat-Salé et la banlieue, au Résident Général, Direction de l’Enseignement à Rabat, “Au sujet de l’école ouvroir de Salé,” Rabat, January 2, 1914, ADN, DIP 25. 21 No 2917 du Chef de Bataillon Bussy. 22 Mlle Bouillot, “L’École Ouvroir de Salé. Considerations Générales,” January-February 1914, ADN, DIP 25. 23 No 2917 du Chef de Bataillon Bussy. 24 Mlle Bouillot, “L’École Ouvroir de Salé. Considérations Générales.” 25 No 2917 du Chef de Bataillon Bussy. 26 Mlle Bouillot, “L’École Ouvroir de Salé. Considérations Générales.” 27 Mlle Bouillot, “L’École Ouvroir de Salé. Considérations Générales.” 28 29 Mlle Bouillot. “L’École Ouvroir de Salé. Considérations Générales.” Lettre du Directeur de l’Enseignement au Maroc au Chef du Service des Domaines, Rabat, November 29, 1913, ADN, DIP 25; Mlle Bouillot, “L’École Ouvroir de Salé. Son Installation,” p. 1; No 2917 du Chef de Bataillon Bussy. 30 Mlle Bouillot, “L’École Ouvroir de Salé. Son Installation,” p. 2. 31 32 Mlle L. Bouillot, “État moral de la femme musulmane,” p. 2. L. Bouillot, Directrice de l’École Ouvroir de Salé, “L’École Ouvroir de Salé. Son Installation définitive. Compte rendu travail de l’année, Juin-Juillet 1914,” ADN, DIP 25, p. 1. 33 Mlle Bouillot, “L’École Ouvroir de Salé. Considérations Générales.” 34 L. Bouillot, Directrice de l’Ecole Ouvroir de Salé, p. 1. 35 L. Bouillot, “L’atelier de Broderie. Projet de création d’un atelier de Tapis,” p. 1. 36 L. Bouillot, “L’atelier de Broderie. Projet de création d’un atelier de Tapis,” p. 1; L. Bouillot, Directrice de l’École Ouvroir de Salé,” p. 2. 37 L. Bouillot, “L’atelier de Broderie. Projet de création d’un atelier de Tapis,” p. 2; No 959 du Lieutenant, Chef des Services Municipaux de la Ville de Salé au Commissaire Résident Général, Direction de l’Enseignement, Rabat, “Atelier de Broderie de Salé,” Salé, December 18, 1914, ADN, DIP 25, p. 3. 38 Mlle L. Bouillot, “État moral de la femme musulmane,” p. 2. 39 L. Bouillot, Directrice de l’École Ouvroir de Salé, p. 2. 40 No 959 du Lieutenant, p. 3. 41 L. Bouillot, “L’atelier de Broderie. Projet de création d’un atelier de Tapis,” p. 3; L. Bouillot, Directrice de l’École Ouvroir de Salé, p. 2.

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42 43 L. Bouillot, Directrice de l’Ecole Ouvroir de Salé, p. 1. L. Bouillot, “L’atelier de Broderie. Projet de création d’un atelier de Tapis,” p. 3; No 959 du Lieutenant, p. 3. 44 L. Bouillot, “L’atelier de Broderie. Projet de création d’un atelier de Tapis,” p. 3; No 959 du Lieutenant, p. 3. 45 L. Bouillot, “L’atelier de Broderie. Projet de création d’un atelier de Tapis,” p. 3; Mlle L. Bouillot, “État morale de la femme musulmane,” p. 2; No 959 du Lieutenant, p. 2. 46 L. Bouillot, “L’atelier de Broderie. Projet de création d’un atelier de Tapis,” p. 4. 47 48 L. Bouillot, “L’atelier de Broderie. Projet de création d’un atelier de Tapis,” p. 4. L. Bouillot, “L’atelier de Broderie. Projet de création d’un atelier de Tapis,” p. 4; No 959 du Lieutenant, p. 4. 49 No 1566 de Brunot au Chef des Services Municipaux, Salé, February 13, 1923, ADN, DIP 25. 50 No 25 de la Directrice de l’École Professionnelle de fillettes musulmanes de Salé au Directeur Générale de l’Instruction Publique, des Beaux-Arts et des Antiquites à Rabat, “projet d’exposition,” Salé, May 23, 1923, ADN, DIP 25. 51 No 25 de la Directrice de l’École Professionnelle. 52 L. Bouillot, “Les Écoles professionnelles de filles musulmanes de Rabat. État actuel,” Salé, January 15, 1915, ADN, DIP 25, p. 2. 53 Lettre de Mademoiselle Bazet, Directrice de l’École-Ouvroir de Rabat à Monsieur le Directeur de l’Enseignement, Rabat, January 16, 1921, ADN, DIP 22, p. 2. 54 Lettre de Mademoiselle Bazet, p. 3. 55 Renée Bazet, Directrice de l’École des fillettes musulmanes de Rabat, “La Légende du Tapis de Rabat,” [1921], ADN, DIP 22, p. 1. 56 Renée Bazet, Directrice de l’École des fillettes, p. 2. 57 Lettre de Mademoiselle Bazet, p. 3. 58 Lettre de la déléguée à l’organisation de l’enseignement des Fillettes Indigènes dans la Région de Fèz-Meknès au Directeur de l’Enseignement à Rabat, Fez, June 13, 1915, ADN, DIP 6. 59 No 925 E.P. du Directeur de l’Enseignement au Maroc à Bel, Chargée de mission à Fès, “Réponse à lettre No 225 du 16 mai 1916,” Rabat, May 25, 1916, ADN, DIP 6. 60 Lettre de A. Bel, La déléguée à l’organisation de l’enseignement, “Enseignement des fillettes indigènes. Rapport d’avril 1915,” Fez, April 1915, ADN, DIP 6. 61 Lettre de Bel, la déléguée à l’organisation et au Control de l’Enseignement de Jeunes fillettes indigènes dans les régions de Fèz-Meknès au Directeur de l’Enseignement à Rabat, Fez, January 9, 1915, ADN, DIP 6. 62 Télégramme officiel No 16 E.P. de A. Roland au Commissaire Résident général à Région Fèz, Rabat, February 23, 1915, ADN, DIP 6; Télégramme officiel No 20 E.P. au Commissaire Résident Général aux Services Municipaux, Fèz. [n.d.], ADN, DIP 6. 63 École des Jeunes filles de Fez, lettre No 23, “Liste des jeux nécéssaires,” February 23, 1915, ADN, DIP 6. 64 Lettre de la déléguée à l’organisation de l’enseignement. 65 No 230 de Bel, la déléguée à l’organisation de l’enseignement des Fillettes Indigènes dans la Région de Fèz-Meknès au Directeur de l’Enseignement à Rabat, Fez, June 14, 1915, ADN, DIP 6. 66 67 No 230 de Bel. No 6 de Bel, la déléguée à l’organisation de l’enseignement des Fillettes musulmanes à Fèz-Meknès au Directeur de l’Enseignement à Rabat, “Rapport sur la création d’un cours pour fillettes dans le jardin d’enfants musulmanes à Fez.” [n.d], ADN, DIP 6, p. 2. 68 69 No 6 de Bel, p. 2. No 87 de Bel, la déléguée à l’organisation et au Control de l’Enseignement des fillettes musulmanes dans les Régions de Fès et Meknès au Directeur de l’Enseignement à Rabat, “Maison de réunions des fillettes Musulmanes,” Fez, June 16, 1916, ADN, DIP 6. 70 No 87 de Bel. 71 No 6 de Bel, p. 3. 72 73 No 87 de Bel. École de jeunes filles de Fèz, “Matériel et fournitures scolaires nécéssaires dès l’ouverture de cette école et qu’il est impossible de se procurer sur place (d’après le catalogue de la librairie Hachette),” [n.d.], ADN, DIP 6. 74 No 87 de Bel.

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75 Lettre de A. Bel, La déléguée à l’organisation de l’enseignement, “Enseignement des fillettes indigènes, Rapport d’avril 1915,” Fez, April 1915, ADN, DIP 6. 76 No 353 du délégué à l’organisation et au Controle de l’Enseignement dans les Régions de Fès et Meknès au Directeur de l’Enseignement à Rabat, “Transmission d’une note de Mme Bel sur la broderie,” Fez, June 28, 1916, ADN, DIP 6, p. 2. 77 No 353 du délégué, p. 4. 78 No 353 du délégué, p. 4. 79 No 353 du délégué, p. 4. 80 No 353 du délégué, p. 4. 81 82 No 353 du délégué, p. 4. Lettre de Madame la Directrice de l’École de Fille Musulmanes de Rabat à Monsieur le Directeur Général de l’Instruction Publique, des Beaux-Arts et des Antiquités, Rabat, October 23, 1926, ADN, DIP 22. 83 No 2642 de L. Brunot à Madame la Directrice de l’École des filles musulmanes à Rabat, “Services du personnel,” February 22, 1927, ADN, DIP 22. 84 No 930 de Brunot à Madame la Directrice de l’École de fillettes Musulmanes à Salé, “Au Sujet Tapis,” January 29, 1923, ADN, DIP 25. 85 No 353 du délégué, p. 4. 86 No 48 de S. Soulé, la Directrice de l’École de Filles Musulmanes de Fès à l’Inspection Générale de l’Instruction publique, des Beaux-Arts et des Antiquités, “Fête de l’Ecole,” Fez, June 20, 1929, ADN, DIP 6, p. 4. 87 No 48 de S. Soulé, p. 2. 88 The French guests included Mme Blondel, wife of a Colonel; Mme Gravot, wife of a doctor with the rank of Colonel; Mme Arlabosse, wife of a Commandant in the Native Affairs Bureau; Mme Truchet, wife of a Captain in the service of the Translation Bureau; No 48 de S. Soulé, p. 3. 89 No 2207 de l’Inspecteur de l’Enseignement Primaire Musulman à Monsieur le Directeur de l’Instruction Publique à Rabat, [.n.d], ADN, DIP 5. 90 No 2207 de l’Inspecteur. 91 No 2207 de l’Inspecteur. 92 No 3167 du Controleur Civil, Chef des Services Municipaux de Salé à Monsieur le Directeur Général de l’Instruction Publique, Enseignement Indigène à Rabat, “Instruction des fillettes musulmanes,” Salé, September 20, 1934, ADN, DIP 6. 93 No 3167 du Controleur Civil. 94 No 2550 I.P./3 de L. Brunot à l’Inspecteur de l’Enseignement Primaire Musulman Maroc-Nord, “Au Sujet d’une école musulmane de filles à Salé,” (September 29, 1934), ADN, DIP 25; Service de l’Enseignement Secondaire, Primaire et Professionnel Musulman. Note pour le Directeur Général, “École musulmane de filles de Salé,” October 3, 1934, ADN, DIP 25. 95 Association des Anciens Elèves du Collège Musulman de Fèz, Maroc, au Résident Général, Fez, July 10, 1936, ADN, DIP 6. 96 Association des Anciens Élèves. 97 No 142 de L. Brunot à Monsieur l’Inspecteur de l’Enseignement Primaire Musulman, Maroc-Nord et Maroc-Sud, Rabat, Confidentiel. Inspection des école de Filles, January 13, 1937, ADN, DIP 5. 98 Yvette Katan, Oujda, p. 289. 99 No 925 P.I.R. le Controleur Civil, Chef de la Région, Rabat, September 25, 1934, ADN, DIP 6. 100 Service de l’Enseignement Secondaire, Primaire et Professionnel Musulman. Note pour le Directeur Général, “École des filles de Salé,” November 8, 1937, ADN, DIP 25. 101 No 4496 de L. Brunot à Madame la Directrice de l’École Musulmane de filles de Salé, “Inauguration de votre école,” Rabat, November 1937, ADN, DIP 5.

Part Three: Originality, Drawing, and Colonial Exploitation Chapter Six: Vocational Training and Patriotism in France 1 Léon de Laborde, De l’Union des Arts et de l’Industrie, Vol. I, (Paris: Imprimerie Imperiale, 1856), pp. 1-5. 2 “Les Nations Industrielles.” in Léon de Laborde, De L’Union des Arts et de l’Industrie, Vol. I, p. 269. 3 “Les Nations Industrielles,” pp. 270-289. 4 “Les Nations Industrielles,” pp. 269-375.

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5 “Les Nations Industrielles,” pp. 319-324. 6 “Les Nations Industrielles,” pp. 312-316. 7 “Les Nations Industrielles,” pp. 325-331. 8 “Les Nations Industrielles,” p. 334. 9 “Les Nations Industrielles,” pp. 343-358. 10 “Les Nations Industrielles,” pp. 387-388. 11 “Les Nations Industrielles,” pp. 389-390. 12 “La Vulgarisation des arts est-elle la ruine de l’art?” in Léon de Laborde, De l’Union des Arts et de l’Industrie, Vol. II. (Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1856), pp. 41-42. 13 “Distribution des récompenses aux artistes exposants du salon de 1868 et aux élèves de l’école Impériale des Beaux-Arts. Extrait du Moniteur, du 14 Août 1868. Archives Nationales in Paris (cited hereafter as AN), AJ52/22. 14 Albert Boime, The Academy & French Painting in the Nineteenth Century, (London: Phaidon Press Ltd., 1971), pp. 181-184. 15 Albert Boime, Art and the French Commune. Imagining Paris After War and Revolution, (New Jersey: Princeton Univestiry Press, 1995), p. 19. 16 Jean-Marie Mayeur, Les débuts de la IIIe République, 1871-1898, (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1973), pp. 10-11. 17 Jean-Marie Mayeur, Les débuts, pp. 10-11. 18 Jean-Marie Mayeur, Les débuts, pp. 27-29. 19 Henri Dubief, Le Déclin de la IIIe République, 1929-1938, (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1976), p. 102. 20 Conseil Supérieur des Beaux-Arts. Procès-Verbaux des Séances de la Commission de l’organisation de l’Enseignement du dessin. Séance du Lundi 28 Février 1876. Annexe. “Procès-verbal de la séance tenue le 21 Février 1876 par la Sous-Commission de l’Enseignement du dessin dans les écoles secondaires,” AN, F217540, p. 41. 21 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Procès-Verbaux des Séances de la Commission de l’organisation de l’Enseignement du dessin. Séance du Vendredi 25 Juillet 1879,” AN, F217540, p. 27. 22 Commission de l’Enseignement du Dessin, “Établissement Universitaire. Séance du Lundi 21 Juillet 1879,” AN, F217540, p. 17. 23 Conseil Supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Procès-Verbaux des Séances de la Commission de l’organisation de l’Enseignement du dessin, Séance du Lundi 7 Février 1876,” AN, F217540, p. 3. 24 Conseil Supérieur des Beaux-Arts. Procès-Verbaux des Séances de la Commission de l’organisation de l’Enseignement du dessin, “Séance du Lundi 28 Février 1876. (Annexe). Procès-verbal de la séance tenue le 21 Février 1876 par la Sous-Commission de l’Enseignement du dessin dans les écoles secondaires,” AN, F217540, p. 38. 25 Conseil Supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Procès-verbal de la séance tenue le 21 Février 1876,” p. 38. 26 Conseil Supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Procès-verbal de la séance tenue le 21 Février 1876,” p. 39. 27 Conseil Supérieur des Beaux-Arts. “Séance du Lundi 7 Février 1876,” pp. 4-6. 28 Jean-Marie Mayeur, Les débuts, pp. 66-73; Philippe Bernard, La Fin d’un monde, 1914-1929, (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1975), p. 211. 29 Commission de l’Enseignement du Dessin, “Établissement Universitaire,” p. 17. 30 Conseil Supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Séance du Lundi 7 Février 1876,” p. 5. 31 Commission de l’Enseignement du Dessin, “Établissement Universitaire,” p. 16. 32 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Procès-Verbaux des Séances de la Commission de l’organisation de l’Enseignement du dessin. Séance du Lundi 28 Fèvrier 1876, (Annexe), AN, F217540, p. 28. 33 Conseil Supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Procès-verbal de la séance tenue le 21 Février 1876,” p. 41. 34 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Procès-Verbaux des Séances de la Commission de l’organisation de l’Enseignement du dessin. Séance du Lundi 14 Fèvrier 1876. (Annexe). Rapport de la SousCommission de l’Enseignement du dessin dans les écoles normales primaires,” AN, F217540, p. 24. 35 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Séance du Lundi 14 Fèvrier 1876. (Annexe),” p. 26-27. 36 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Procès-Verbaux des Séances de la Commission de l’organisation de l’Enseignement du dessin. Séance du Lundi 14 Fèvrier 1876,” AN, F217540, pp. 15-16. 37 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Séance du Lundi 14 Fèvrier 1876,” pp. 15-16. 38 Conseil Supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Procès-verbal de la séance tenue le 21 Février 1876,” p. 40. 39 Commission de l’Enseignement du Dessin, “Établissement Universitaire,” p. 13. 40 Conseil Supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Procès-verbal de la séance tenue le 21 Février 1876,” p. 47.

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41 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Séance du Lundi 14 Fèvrier 1876,” p. 16. 42 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Séance du Lundi 14 Fèvrier 1876,” p. 18. 43 Conseil Supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Procès-verbal de la séance tenue le 21 Février 1876,” p. 46. 44 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Séance du Lundi 14 Fèvrier 1876,” p. 20. 45 Conseil Supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Procès-verbal de la séance tenue le 21 Février 1876,” p. 46. 46 Commission de l’Enseignement du Dessin, “Établissement Universitaire,” p. 15. 47 Commission de l’Enseignement du Dessin, “Établissement Universitaire,” pp, 14-15. 48 Conseil Supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Procès-verbal de la séance tenue le 21 Février 1876,” p. 48. 49 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Séance du Lundi 14 Fèvrier 1876,” p. 16. 50 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Séance du Lundi 14 Fèvrier 1876,” p. 17. 51 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Séance du Vendredi 25 Juillet 1879,” p. 24. 52 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Séance du Vendredi 25 Juillet 1879,” p. 26. 53 Conseil Supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Procès-verbal de la séance tenue le 21 Février 1876,” p. 47. 54 Commission de l’Enseignement du Dessin, “Établissement Universitaire,” p, 16. 55 Commission de l’Enseignement du Dessin, “Établissement Universitaire,” p, 16. 56 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Séance du Lundi 14 Fèvrier 1876,” p. 18. 57 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Séance du Lundi 14 Fèvrier 1876,” pp. 18-19. 58 École Nationale de Dessin et de Mathématiques, “Assemblée des Professeurs. Extrait du Procèsverbal. Considérations sur l’Exposé d’une méthode particulière pour l’enseignement élémentaire du Dessin. Séance du Lundi 7 Février 1876,” AN, AJ53\100, pp. 3-4,9. 59 École Nationale de Dessin et de Mathématiques, “Séance du Lundi 7 Février 1876,” p. 11. 60 École Nationale de Dessin et de Mathématiques, “Séance du Lundi 7 Février 1876,” pp. 13-16. 61 École Nationale de Dessin et de Mathématiques, “Séance du Lundi 7 Février 1876,” pp. 16-17. 62 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Séance du Lundi 28 Fèvrier 1876, (Annexe), p. 35. 63 École Nationale de Dessin et de Mathématiques, “Séance du Lundi 7 Février 1876,” p. 30; Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Séance du Lundi 28 Fèvrier 1876, (Annexe), p. 29. 64 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Séance du Lundi 28 Fèvrier 1876, (Annexe), p. 31. 65 Conseil de Surveillance et de perfectionnement de l’Enseignement des Arts du dessin, “1ère Séance du Lundi, 5 Avril 1880,” AN, F217540, p. 41. 66 Conseil de Surveillance et de perfectionnement de l’Enseignement des Arts du dessin, “5ème Séance du Lundi, 22 Mars 1880,” AN, F217540, p. 39. 67 Conseil supérieur des Beaux-Arts, “Procès-Verbaux des Séances de la Commission de l’organisation de l’Enseignement du dessin. Séance du Mardi 5 Mai 1880,” AN, F217540; Conseil de Surveillance et de perfectionnement de l’Enseignement des Arts du dessin, “1ère Séance du Lundi, 16 Février 1880,” AN, F217540, p.7. 68 Conseil de Surveillance et de perfectionnement de l’Enseignement des Arts du dessin, “8ère Séance du Lundi, 26 Avril 1880,” AN, F217540, p. 48. 69 Madelaine Rebérious, La République radicale? 1898-1914, (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1975), p. 119. 70 Stéphane Laurent, L’Art utile. Les Écoles d’arts appliqués sous le Second Empire et la Troisième République, (Paris: L’Harmattan, 1998), p. 111. 71 Chambre Syndicale des Tapisseriers-Décorateurs. Patronage des Apprentis. “Distribution des Prix aux Apprentis de la Corporation, le 29 Octobre 1905,” AN, F217540, p. 9. 72 Chambre Syndicale, “Distribution des Prix,” p. 9. 73 Chambre Syndicale, “Distribution des Prix,” pp. 10-11. 74 “Lettre de D. Beaumetz, Sous-Secrétaire d’Etat des Beaux-Arts à Monsieur le Ministre de l’Instruction Publique des Beaux-Art et des Cultes,” Palais-Royal, February 3, 1906, AN, F217540. 75 “Lettre de D. Beaumetz.” 76 Commission Permanente du Conseil supérieur de l’Enseignement Technique, Rapport presenté par M. Ed. Labé, Directeur de l’Enseignement Tachnique sur la Taxe d’Apprentissage, [n.p.,] 1926; also “La Taxe d’apprentissage,” in L’Apprentissage et l’Orientation Professionnelle, Vol. 1, No 3, March 1927, pp. 5-8. 77 Edouart Herriot, Créer, (Paris: Payot & Cie, 1920), pp. 90-92. 78 Fédération des Sociétés de Propagandes et d’Enseignement Artistiques et Techniques, Annuaire 1934, (Paris: Coquemer, 1934), p. 21. 79 Henri Dubief, Le Déclin, pp. 21, 31. 80 Fédération des Sociétés, Annuaire 1934, p. 20. 81 Fédération des Sociétés, Annuaire 1934, p. 21. 82 “Convention entre le Sous-Secrétaire d’Etat l’Enseignement Technique representé par le Directeur

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Général de l’Enseignement technique et le Directeur Général des Beaux-Arts d’une part et la Fédération des Sociétés Françaises de propagande et d’enseignement artistiques et techniques representée par son Président, M. Henri Marcel Magne, agissant en vertu d’une délibération de l’Assemblée générale de la dite Fédération en date du 13 Mai 1937 d’autre part,” November 10, 1937, AN, F17.17892, p. 33. 83 Edmond Labbé, Arts et Techniques dans la Vie Moderne. Éxposition Internationale de Paris 1937. Conférence, (Paris: Imprimeries Henri Maillet, [1937]), pp. 9-10. 84 Edmond Labbé. Arts et Techniques, p. 15. 85 Albert Laprade. “Rapport au Sujet de la Réorganisation des Écoles des Beaux-Arts en Province.” May 9, 1933, AN, F21/7540. 86 Janet L. Abu Lughod, Rabat; André Adam, Casablanca; Paul Rabinow, “Colonialism, Modernity: The French in Morocco,” in Nezar AlSayyad, ed., Form of Dominance. On the Architecture and Urbanism of the Colonial Enterprise, (Aldershot, England: Avebury, 1992), pp. 167-182; Paul Rabinow, French Modern: Norms and Forms of the Social Environment, (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1989); Gwendolyn Wright, The Politics of Design in French Colonial Urbanism, (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1991). 87 [Albert Laprade], “École d’Art [appliqué à l’industrie] de Province.” [n.d.], AN, F21/7540. 88 Pierre Olmer, “L’Enseignement du Dessin dans les Établissements Scolaires du 1er et du 2ème degrée (Écoles, Collèges, Lycées),” September 30, 1940, AN, F217540.

Chapter Seven: Drawing as an Apparatus of Exploitation 1 Irénée Pia, “Problèmes d’éducation et d’Enseignement. De l’Enseignement du Dessin dans les Lycées et Collèges,” Bulletin de l’Enseignement Public 183 (cited hereafter as BEP), October-December 1945, 263-268. 2 “Note relative à l’enseignement professionnel dans les écoles de la Casbah et de Sidi Bel Abbès,” [Marrakech, 1916], ADN, DIP 10. 3 “Lettre de Pillet, Service des Beaux-Arts, Marrakech à Monsieur le Général Commandant la Région de Marrakech,” Marrakech, October 9, 1916, ADN, DIP 10. 4 Pillet recommended an extensive collection of alternative works by French authors including M. Bourqoui, Les Arts Arabes, 1873; L’Architecture arabe, 1891; Précis de l’art arabe, [n.d.]; Élements de l’art arabe, [n.d]; as well as Prisse d’Avennes, La décoration arabe, 1880; and finally the Collection de Photographie [n.d], “Lettre de Pillet.” 5 Roger Le Tourneau, La Vie quotidienne, pp. 88-99. 6 Tranchant de Lunel, “Rabat, ville d’art,” France-Maroc 9, (September 15, 1917), p. 10. 7 Yvette Katan, Oujda, p. 331. 8 Gaston Loth, “L’Enseignement public au Maroc.” in Exposition Franco-Marocaine de Casablanca. Conférences Franco-Marocaines. Volume I, p. 250. 9 Alfred de Tarde, “Un renouveau des Arts marocains,” France-Maroc 1, (January 1917), p. 35. 10 Alfred de Tarde, “Un renouveau,” p. 35. 11 Alfred de Tarde, “Un renouveau,” p. 36. 12 “Le Préapprentissage,” BEP 72, (February 1926), 37-39. 13 “Le Préapprentissage,” pp. 39-40. 14 MMe. Cleeman, “La Méthode active dans l’enseignement du Dessin. Le Rôle du Professeur et des élèves. Le Dessin et les autres matières,” BEP 154, (June 1937), 391-407. 15 M. Gabriel-Rousseau, Méthode de dessin à l’usage des écoles musulmanes, [n.p., n.d.], p. 1. 16 L. B., “Le Départ de M. M. Gabriel-Rousseau, Inspecteur de l’Enseignement Professionnel et du Dessin,” BEP 151, (January-February 1937), 67. 17 M. Gabriel-Rousseau, Méthode, p.1 18 Horace Lecoq de Boisbaudran, L’Éducation de la Mémoire Pittoresque, 2nd edition, (Paris: Henri Laurens, Éditions, 1920). 19 “Lettre de Rodin à M L.-D. Luard.” in Horace Lecoq de Boisbaudran, L’Éducation, note 2. 20 Lecoq de Boisbaudran, L’Éducation, 9. 21 M. Gabriel-Rousseau, Méthode, p. 1; Lecoq de Boisbaudran, L’Éducation, pp. 21-21. 22 M. Gabriel-Rousseau, Méthode, p.4. 23 MMe. Cleeman, “La Méthode active,” pp. 391-407. 24 Irénée Pia, “Problèmes d’éducation et d’Enseignement. De l’Enseignement du Dessin dans les Lycées et Collèges,” BEP 183, 265. 25 Direction Générale de l’Instruction Publique, des Beaux-Arts et des Antiquités. Service de

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l’Interieur au Directeur Général, “Travail de M. Chenail, Instituteur à Casablanca, notables,” April 27, 1928, ADN, DIP 71. 26 “No 8708 de M. Chenail,” Casablanca, Avril 16, 1928, ADN, DIP 71. 27 “No 400 du Directeur de l’école Musulmane, rue de Mogador, Casablanca au Chef de Service de l’Enseignement Musulman, Rabat,” Casablanca, September 19, 1944, ADN, DIP 71, p. 1. 28 “No 400,” pp. 1-2. 29 No 68 de Gotteland, Directeur Général de l’Instruction Publique au Directeur de l’Office du Protectorat de la République Fançaise au Maroc, “École des Arts Indigènes au Maroc,” January 8, 1931, ADN, DIP 92. 30 No 3831, Inspection de l’Enseignement Professionnel Musulman, Rabat, “Présentation du film ‘Le Charronnage,’” December 1934, ADN, DIP 59. 31 No 3831. 32 “Le Problème des Maîtres,” BEP 72, (February 1926), 72. 33 “Le Problème des Maîtres,” 73. 34 Direction Générale de l’Instruction Publique, des Beaux-Arts et des Antiquités, “Recrutement de maitresse-ouvrières pour les écoles musulmanes de filles,” [September 27-28, 1937], ADN, DIP 93. 35 No 3118 I.P./3 de l’Inspecteur de l’Enseignement Secondaire, Primaire et Professionnel musulman, Bureau Techique à Mlles Magne, Guyot, Mme Gautier, Fabre et Mlle Oliver, “Concours pour un emploi de maitresses ouvrières auxilliaires,” October 27, 1932, ADN, DIP 93; La Commission chargée d’examiner les condidates d’un emploi de maitresses-ouvrières à l’école musulmane de fille de Salé, “Procès Verbal,” [n.d.], ADN, DIP 93; “La Commission chargée de faire passer un examen en vu du recrutement de maitresses-ouvrières dans les écoles Musulmanes de filles,” October 5, 1936, ADN, DIP 93. 36 No 15265, L. Brunot, “Au sujet des maitresses ouvrières françaises employées comme auxiliares dans les écoles de filles musulmanes,” October 15, 1928, ADN, DIP 5, p.1. 37 No 15265, p.2-3 38 No 15265, p.4 39 Prosper Ricard, “Le Dar Adiyel ou Maison des Beaux Arts,” France-Maroc 9 (Septembre 15, 1919), 258. 40 Catherine Campbazard-Amahan & Ali Amahan, Arrêt sur sites. Le patrimoine marocain, (Casablanca: Éditions le Fennec, 1999), pp. 201-205; Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, pp. 18-19. 41 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 19. 42 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, pp. 17-18. 43 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 20; Prosper Ricard, Corpus des tapis marocains, Vol. I, Tapis de Rabat, (Paris: Geuthner, 1923); Proper Ricard, Corpus de tapis marocains, Vol. II, Tapis du Moyen Atlas, (Paris: Geuthner, 1926, 1927); Prosper Ricard, Corpus de Tapis Marocains, Vol. III, Tapis du Haut Atlas et du Haouz, (Paris: Geuthner, 1927, 1934); Prosper Ricard, Corpus de tapis marocains, Vol. IV, Tapis divers (Rabat, Casablanca, Mediouna, Moyen Atlas, Maroc Oriental, Maroc Méridonial, (Paris: Geuthner, n.d.); Prosper Ricard, Arts marocains: Broderies, Alger: (n.p., 1918); Prosper Ricard, Arts marocains: Broderies (Rabat, Salé, Meknès, Fès, Azemour, Tétouan), (Alger: Carbonel, 1918). 44 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 20. 45 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 21. 46 Prosper Ricard. L’Artisanat Indigène, pp. 11-12. 47 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 21. 48 Jacques Berque, Deux ans d’action, p. 12. 49 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, pp. 22-23. 50 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 23. 51 “No 184 de A.I. de l’Inspecteur Régional du Service des Arts Indigènes à l’Inspecteur de l’Enseignement Musulman à Rabat,” February 6, 1939, ADN, DIP 92; “No 551 A.I. du Chef du Service des Arts Indigènes à Madame la Secretaire du Comité de l’Éxposition Nationale du Travail à Paris,” April 5, 1939, ADN, DIP 92, and others. 52 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 26. 53 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 26. 54 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 27. 55 M. Bourgeois, “L’Artisanat fassi,” pp. 5-6. 56 George Hardy, “Le Musée Pédagogique du Maroc,” BEP 17, (January 1920), 8. 57 George Hardy, “Le Musée Pédagogique,” BEP 17, 8. 58 “Le Musée Pédagogique du Maroc,” BEP 18, (February 1920), 32-33.

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59 George Hardy, “Le Musée Pédagogique,” BEP 18, 8. 60 George Hardy, “Le Musée Pédagogique,” BEP 18, 8. 61 “No 6929 de l’Inspecteur de l’Enseignement Professionnel Indigène au Directeur de l’Instruction Publique, Rabat,” Casablanca, December 28, 1927, ADN, DIP 12; No 138 de Gotteland au Général Vidalon, Commandant Supérieur des Troupes du Maroc, “Céssion de Pièces d’automobiles suagées en faveur d’écoles professionnelles,” January 6, 1928, ADN, DIP 12. 62 “Lettre de Marcel Finateu, Directeur de l’École franco-arabe de Rabat à l’Inspecteur Chef de l’Enseignement des Indigènes,” Rabat, March 5, 1921, ADN, DIP 19. 63 “Lettre de Marcel Finateu.” 64 No 2456 de l’Inspecteur de l’Enseignement Professionnel Indigène à Monsieur le Directeur Général de l’Instruction Publique à Rabat, “Rapport sur l’École d’Apprentissage de Fès,” Casablanca, May 3, 1927, ADN, DIP 4, pp. 1-2. 65 No 2456, p. 2. 66 No 2456, pp. 3-4. 67 No 2456, p. 4. 68 No 2803 du Chef de Service de l’Enseignement Secondaire, Primaire et Professionnel Musulman, “Au sujet des photographies d’élèves,” Rabat, September 29, 1930, ADN, DIP 86; No 5030 de L. Brunot à Richard Gringoire, Directeur du “Soir Marocain,” Rabat, “Numéro du 11 septembre du ‘Soir Marocain,” September 30, 1930, ADN, DIP 86; No 108 de Madame Barbusse, Directrice de l’école Musulmane de filles à Mazagan à Monsieur le Directeur Général de l’Instruction Publique, des Beaux-Arts et des Antiquités à Rabat, “Photographies des élèves de l’école,” October 13, 1930, ADN, DIP 86; No 3217 de L. Brunot à la Directrice de l’École Musulmane de filles de Mazagan, “Photographies d’élèves,” October 31, 1930, ADN, DIP 86. 69 “Lettre à “Cher Monsieur.” [n.d]. ADN, DIP 92a. 70 “Lettre de Si Abderrahman ben Kacem el Hiani El Hassani au Chef du Service des Beaux-Arts de Rabat-Salé,” Salé, January 13, 1934, ADN, DIP 25; Lettre de la Directrice de l’école Musulmane de Filles au Chef de Service de l’Enseignement Musulman à Rabat, Salé, January 30, 1934, ADN, DIP 25; Lettre de Brunot à Monsieur Abderrahman ben Kacem Ellahiani [sic] El Hassani, “Au sujet de Aicha bent Lalla Rquia Regraguia,” [n.d.], ADN, DIP 25. 71 No 3407 de L. Brunot à Madame Ammor, Directrice de l’école des filles musulmanes, “Crédits pour cantine scolaire,” March 4, 1927, ADN, DIP 25. 72 No 898 I.P./3 de L. Brunot à Boissy, Directrice de l’École Musulmane de Filles de la Médina, Fès, “Recrutement d’une maitresse-ouvrière,” March 25, 1934, ADN, DIP 6; No 3587 I.P./3 de L. Brunot à la Directrice de l’École musulmane de filles de l’Ancienne Médina, Fès. “Fonctionnement de l’école, personnel, inspection,” December 13, 1934, ADN, DIP 6. 73 No 3260 de l’Inspecteur de l’Enseignement Primaire Musulman à Monsieur le Directeur de l’École Musulmane d’Apprentissage de Azagan, “Admission d’apprentis européens,” September 16, 1940, ADN, DIP 5; No 3262 de l’Inspecteur de l’Enseignement Primaire Musulman à Monsieur le Directeur de l’École Musulmane d’Apprentissage de Marrakech, “Admission d’européens dans les ateliers,” September 17, 1940, ADN, DIP 5; No 209 du Directeur de l’École Musulmane d’Apprentissage de Marrakech à l’Inspecteur de l’Enseignement Primaire musulman Maroc-Sud à Rabat, “Admission des européens aux ateliers et effectifs,” Marrakech, October 14, 1938, ADN, DIP 14; No 2456 de l’Inspecteur de l’Enseignement Professionnel Indigènes à Monsieur le Directeur Général de l’Instruction Publique à Rabat, “Rapport sur l’École d’Apprentissage de Fès,” Casablanca, May 3, 1927, ADN, DIP 4. 74 No 68 de Gotteland, Directeur Général de l’Instruction Publique au Directeur de l’Office du Protectorat de la République Française au Maroc, “École des Arts Indigènes au Maroc,” January 8, 1931, ADN, DIP 92.

Chapter Eight: The Open Workshops and the Casablanca School of Fine Arts 1 Pat Barr, The Memsahibs: The Women of Victorian India, (London: Secker & Warburg, 1976), pp. 3, 12-13. 2 Unless otherwise noted all information on Simone Gruner’s experience in Morocco is from unpublished interviews I conducted with her at her home in Paris, France, on four different occasions, October 10, 1999; November 4, 1999; November 10, 1999; and June 7, 2000.

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3 Simone Gruner, Ateliers de Peinture du Service de la Jeunesse et des Sports, Maroc 1950-1960, (n.p., n.d.), p. 2. 4 Simone Gruner, Ateliers de Peinture, p. 2. 5 Simone Gruner, Ateliers de Peinture, pp. 4-5. 6 Simone Gruner, Ateliers de Peinture, pp. 3-5. 7 Simone Gruner, Ateliers de Peinture, p. 2. 8 Simone Gruner, Ateliers de Peinture, p. 3. 9 Simone Gruner, Ateliers de Peinture, p. 5. 10 Simone Gruner, Ateliers de Peinture, p. 6. 11 Simone Gruner, Ateliers de Peinture, p. 1. 12 Prosper Ricard, Les Arts marocains, p. 27. 13 Mme Artus-Perret, Le dessin au service de l’éducation, n.p., n.d. 14 Simone Gruner, Ateliers de Peinture, p. 2. 15 Simone Gruner, Ateliers de Peinture, p. 5. 16 Simone Gruner, Ateliers de Peinture, p. 3. 17 Simone Gruner, Ateliers de Peinture, p. 5. 18 Unless otherwise noted all information on Jacqueline Brodskis’ experience in Morocco are from unpublished interviews I conducted with her at her home in Rabat, Morocco, on two different occasions, August 19 and August 20, 1999. 19 Daniel Rivet, Le Maroc, p. 334. 20 Charles-André Julien. Le Maroc face aux impérialismes, p. 131. 21 Charles-André Julien. Le Maroc face aux impérialismes, p. 133. 22 “Lettre de Jeanne Guyot au Director Général de l’Enseignement, des Antiquités et des Beaux-Arts, Rabat,” Salé March 31, 1932, ADN, DIP 93. 23 Maurice Arama, Itinéraires Marocains: Regards de Peintres, (Paris: Les Éditions du Jaguar, 1991), p. 148. 24 B. Saint-Aignan, La Renaissance de l’art musulman au Maroc, (Casablanca: Imprimerie de Fédala, 1954). 25 “Arrêté Municipal Permanent du 1er Août 1950 portant création d’une école des Beaux-Arts à Casablanca,” Archives de l’École des Beaux-Arts à Casablanca, Morocco. 26 K.M. “l’École des Beaux-Arts de Casablanca,” France-Maroc 79, (June 1923),106-107. 27 Comité Central des Industriels du Maroc à la Résidence Générale, 1951, n.p., n.d.. 28 André Adam, Casablanca, pp. 283, 286, 289. 29 See for example Janet Abu-Lughod, Rabat; Paul Rabinow, French Modern; Paul Rabinow, “Colonialism, Modernity”; Gwendolyn Wright, The Politics of Design. 30 André Adam, Casablanca, p. 281. 31 Charles-André Julien, Le Maroc face aux impérialismes, p. 134. 32 Paul Rabinow, “Middling Modernism: The Socio-Technical Environment,” French Modern, pp. 320-358.

By Way of Conclusion: The Burden of Cultural Decolonisation 1 See for example Rachid Lyazidi, Art populaires. Les provinces du Maroc, (Madrid, Iberdos, S.A., German Perez Carrasco, 1980); Mohamed Ben Bachir and Najib Moulay Mohamed, eds., As-Siyyasah athThaqafiyah fi al-Maghrib, (Paris: UNESCO, 1980), especially Chapter One on “cataloguing and preserving crafts” and “the list of museurms,” pp. 13-22. See also the monthly journal, Al-Funun [Published by the Moroccan Ministry of Cultural Affairs], particularly the special issues on interior decoration in Southern architecture, wood works, carpets, leather industry, and “the protection of traditional crafts,” including No. 3, (December 1973); Nos. 1-2, (October-November 1974); Nos. 3-4, (December 1974); Nos. 7-8, (AprilMay 1975); No 2, (December 1977); No. 2, (September 1981). 2 Ministère de l’artisanat et des affaires socials, Le nouveau corpus des tapis marocains. Vol. V. Les tapis et hanbels des regions de Marrakech, Taza, Azilal, (Casablanca: Najah el Jadida, 1991), pp. 7-8. 3 Mohamed Boukous, Tarz Boukous, (Published by the author, Tabrikt, Salé, 1986). 4 See for example Othman Othman Ismail, Tarikh Challa al-islamiyah, (Beirut: Dar ath-Thaqafah, 1975); Hafa-ir Challa al-islamiyat, (Beirut: Dar ath-Thaqafa, 1975); and Tarikh al-imarah al-islamiyah wa al-funun at-tatbiqiyah bi al-Maghrib al-aqsah, 5 volumes, (Rabat: Dar al-Hilal, 1992). 5 Othman Othman Ismail, Dirassat jadidah fi al-funun al-islamiyah wa an-nuqush al-arabiyah bi alMaghrib al-aqsa, (Beirut: Dar ath-Thaqafa, 1977), pp. 5-7. 6 Othman Othman Ismail, Dirassat jadidah, p. 14. 7 Othman Othman Ismail, Dirassat jadidah, pp.21-22.

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8 Brahim Ben Hossani Alaoui, “Introduction à l’art contemporain arabe,” in Art contemporain arabe: Collection du Musée, p. 16. 9 Abdelkebir Khatibi, “Croisement de regards,” in Art contemporain arabe: Collection du Musée, pp. 21. 10 “Louardighi,” Archives Villa des Arts, Casablanca, Morocco (cited hereafter as AVA) Fond Louardighi Ahmed. 11 “Commentaire de l’artiste sur certains thèmes,” AVA, Fond Louardighi Ahmed. 12 Fatima Mernissi, “Artiste ou artisan,”; Allal El Fassi, “Se débarasser du Colonialisme Culturel,” in Allal El Fassi ou l’histoire de l’Istiqlal edited by Attilio Gaudio, (Paris: Éditions Alain Moreaux, 1972, pp. 363-365. 13 Hamid Irbouh, “Farid Belkahia: A Moroccan Artist’s Search for Authenticity,” Issues in Contemporary African Art, edited by Nkiru Nzegwu, NY, (Binghamton, NY: International Society for the Study of Africa at Binghamton University, 1998), pp. 47-68; Allal El Fassi, “Se débarasser du Colonialisme Culturel.” 14 Albert Memi, The Colonizer and the Colonized, (New York: Orion Press, 1965). 15 Toni Maraini, Écrits sur l’Art: Choix de Textes, Maroc 1967-1989, (Rabat: Al-Kalam, 1990), p.19. 16 Fatima Mernissi, “Artiste ou artisan.” 17 Fatima Mernissi, “Artiste ou artisan.” 18 “Farid Belkahia,” Interview, AVA, Fond Belkahia, pp. 6-7. 19 Toni Maraini, “Morocco,” p. 211. 20 Abdelkebir Khatibi, Al-Naqd al-Muzdawij, (Beirut: Dal al-Awda, 1980), pp. 155-165; “Double Criticism: The Decolonization of Arab Sociology,” in Contemporary North Africa: Issues of Development and integration, edited by Halim Barakat, (London and Sydney: Groom Helm, 1985), pp. 21 Fatima Mernissi, “Artiste ou artisan.” 22 Edmond Amran El-Maleh, “La peinture marocaine,” pp. 22. 23 Fatima Mernissi, “Artiste ou artisan.” 24 Dominique Desanti & Jean Decock, “Farid Belkahia: Artiste et animateur,” Interview, African Arts/Arts d’Afrique II/3, (Spring 1969), 29. 25 Hamid Irbouh, “Farid Belkahia.” 26 Mostapha el Kasri, Farid Belkahia, (Rabat: Imgramar, 1963), p. 3. 27 Dominique Desanti & Jean Decock, “Farid Belkahia,” p. 29; see also Khalil M’rabet, Peinture et Identité. L’éxperience marocaine, (Paris: Éditions l’Harmattan, 1987), pp. 107-1114. 28 École des Beaux-Arts, Casablanca-Maroc, Catalogue, (n.d., n.p). 29 Maghreb Art 3. 30 École des Beaux-Arts, Casablanca-Maroc, Catalogue, (Tanger: Editions Marocaines et Internationales, June 1965). 31 Toni Maraini, “Note sur les arts plastiques: Entretien avec les élèves de l’école des Beaux-Arts de Casablanca,” Integral 3/4, (January 1973), pp. 38-39; 48-49. 32 Jacques Azema, “Necéssité et buts d’une initiation artistique au Maroc. Cycle de Conferences de M. Azema,” n.d.. I am grateful to Katia Desrosière, daughter of Jacqueline Brodskis, for sending me this document from Paris, from Jacqueline Brodskis Archives. 33 Mohamed Bennis, “The plurality of the One,” Contemporary North Africa: Issues of Development and integration, edited by Halim Barakat, (London and Sydney: Groom Helm, 1985). 34 Edward Said & David Barsamian, The Pen and the Sword, Monro, (Maine: Common Courage Press, 1994), p. 61; see also Una Chaudhuri, “Travel Agencies,” Staging Place. The Geography of Modern Drama, (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1995), pp. 173-212. 35 Julia Kristeva, “Bakhtine, le mot, le dialogue et le roman,” Critique. Revue générale des publications françaises et étrangères XXIII.239, (April 1967), 438-465. 36 Edward Said, “Travelling Theory,” The World, The Text and the Critic, (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1983), pp. 228-247. 37 Abdellah Labdaoui, Les nouveaux intellectuels arabes, (Paris: Éditions l’Harmattan), “preface.” 38 “Pour une idéologie de création,” interview with M. Melihi, Integral 8, (March-April, 1974), 26. 39 Khalil M’rabet, “Cherkaoui, peintre de la méditation biplastique, June 23, 1990,” AVA, Fond Charkaoui. 40 Toni Maraini, “Morocco,” p. 211. 41 Abdelkebir Khatibi, “Croisement de regards,” pp. 20-21. 42 Abdelkebir Khatibi, “Croisement de regards,” pp. 20-21.

265

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270

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Mernissi, Fatima. "Artiste ou Artisan," [an interview with Farid Belkahia and Hassan Slaoui], Lamalif 129 (October-November, 1981), 5863. Ministère de l’artisanat et des affaires sociales. Le nouveau corpus des tapis marocains. Vol. V. Les tapis et hanbels des regions de Marrakech, Taza, Azilal. (Casablanca: Najah el Jadida, 1991).

Salami, Leonardo. The Sociology of Political Praxis. An Introduction to Gramsci's Theory. (London: Henley: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1981).

Othman Ismail, Othman. Dirassat jadidah fi alfunun al-islamiyah wa an-nuqush al-arabiyah bi al-Maghrib al-aqsa. (Beirut: Dar athThaqafa, 1977).

Weisberg, Gabriel P., & Jane R. Becker, eds. Overcoming All Obstacles. The Women of the Académie Julian. (NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1999).

Othman Ismail, Othman. Hafa-ir Challa alislamiyat. (Beirut: Dar ath-Thaqafa, 1975).

Wesson, Robert G. The Imperial Order. (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1967).

Othman Ismail, Othman. Tarikh al-imarah alislamiyah wa al-funun at-tatbiqiyah bi alMaghrib al-aqsah. 5 volumes. (Rabat: Dar alHilal, 1992). Othman Ismail, Othman.Tarikh Challa alislamiyah. (Beirut: Dar ath-Thaqafah, 1975). Rabinow, Paul. "Colonialism, Modernity: The French in Morocco," Forms of Dominance. On the Architecture and Urbanism of the Colonial Enterprise, edited by Near AlSayyad. (Aldershot, England: Avebury, 1992), pp. 167182. Rabinow, Paul. French Modern: Norms and Forms of the Social Environment. (MA: MIT Press, 1989). Rebérious, Madelaine. La République radicale? 1898-1914. (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1975). Picard, André. Al-Maghrib wa al-hiraf at-taqlidiyah al-islamiyah fi al-'imarah. 2 volumes. (Casablanca: Éditions Atelier, 1974, 1981). Rivet, Daniel. Le Maroc de Lyautey à Mohamed V: le double visage du protectorat. (Paris: Denoël, 1999). Rivet, Daniel. Lyautey et l'institution du protectorate français au Maroc, 1912-1925. 3 volumes. (Paris: Editions l'Harmattan, 1988). Said, Edward. "Travelling Theory," The World, the Text and the Critic. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1983), pp. 228-247. Said, Edward. Culture and Imperialism. (New York: Vintage Books, 1993). Said, Edward. Orientalism. (New York: Vintage Books, 1979). Said, Edward & David Barsamian, The Pen and the Sword. (Monro, Maine: Common Courage Press, 1994). Saint-Aignan, B. La Renaissance de l'Art Musulman au Maroc. (Casablanca: Imprimerie de Fedala, 1954).

Thompson, Ernest P. "Time, Work-Discipline, and Industrial Capitalism." Past and Present 38 (December 1967), 56-97.

Wright, Gwendolyn. The Politics of Design in French Colonial Urbanism. (IL: University of Chicago Press, 1991).

INDEX `Abd al-Aziz (Sultan of Morocco), 3-4, `Abd al-Jalil, Omar Ben, 63 `aboudia (a type of wool), 7 `adel (public notary), 49 `Akkari School, Rabat, 101-102 `aleuf (Fez embroidery style), 126 `arifa (headmistress), 104 `aroussas (brides) `Asria, ma`alma, 113 `atabi, (a type of wool), 49 `Attarine madrassa, 163 `ayd al-kebir (feast of sacrifice), 103 `Issawa, 56 "artistic sensibility," Moroccan, 198 "artistic" ingenuity, Moroccan163 "ateliers ouverts," 203; see also Open Workshops "bricolage," 197 "Humanity, Equality, and Fraternity," 74 "La mise en valeur," 72 "Les Meilleurs Travailleurs de l’Empire," 188 "machinisme," 154 "naïve" artist, 219, 235 "naïve" painting, 219-34 "native sector," 50; see also medina "the white man’s burden," 74 123rd escadron du train automobile, 194 âbatardissement, 160 Abdelouhab, Pasha, 104 Abu-Lughod, Janet, 28, and Islamic city, 28 Academic Fine Arts, 239 Academie, 137 Academy, 141 Active Method, 211 Adam, André, 224; colonial encounter, 224 Administration of Fine Arts, Historical Monuments, and Antiquities, 182 Adviser to the Moroccan Charifian Government, 66 Advisory Committee, 98, 101-102 aesthetic appreciation, 148 Africa, 27, 76 Afrique Française, 34 Agronomic Research Centre, Rabat, 216 Aicha bent Lalla Rqiya (Aicha Sarghiniya), 199 Aicha bint Mohamed Gharnit, 124 Ain-Sbaa, 212, Alaoui, Brahim, 8 Alaouis (Dynasty), 33 Algeciras conference, 1906, 3 Algeria, 3, 5-6, 34, 59, 66, 68, 76, 80, 187; "evolués" of, 35; assimilation into France, 35; conquest of, 34, 36; crafts, 34; missionary education in, 76; Oeuvre d’Artisanat, 35; Christianise, 76; vocational schools, 35 Algiers, Archbishop of, 76; Madrassa, 35; museum, 35 Alienation, colonial, 224 America, 34, 136, 139; see also United States Amin (pl. Amins; head of the guild), 6, 41, 43, 49- 51, 54, 56, 58, 65 Ammor, Mrs., 128

271

amusement de l’esprit, of Moroccan craftsmen, 163 Andalusia, 27, 160; of Africa, 27 Antar and Abla, 207 arabesque, 11, 31, 163, 190 Arabian Peninsula, 30, 48 Arabic, Moroccan, 220-21 Archives of the General Administration of Public Education, 196 Arnheim, Rudolf, 11 Arnous, M., 140 art and artisanat, 44; see also art and craft, craft art and craft, 137, 157, 246; architecture-related, 144; and industry, 135-36; and industry in Belgium, 139; character of French, 135; definition, 135; definition of Moroccan, 197, 229, training in France, 151 Art History, 12, 214 Art, and patriotism in France, 153; piracy, 140; decorative, 150; French industry-related to, 152; French, 155, 238; modern French art, 235; Moroccan, 245; Western, 235; Western medium, 244 Arthus-Perrelet, Mrs., 210; Le dessin au service de l’education, 210 Artistic, instincts, 16; sensibility, 243; taste and race in France, 31 Asia, 137, 139 Asilah, 234 assimilation, 73; colonial, 190, 228; of Slawi women, 109 Association of Commerce and Industry for Trade Education, 79 Association of French painters, 222 Atlantic Ocean, 49 Aubusson, 157 Austria, 68, 136, 137, 138, 153; drawing education, 138 authenticity, Moroccan cultural, 232; of Moroccan crafts, 168-69 Azema, Jacques, 242; "bad taste," 243; "le bon et le mauvais," 242; on identity, 243; Western art, 243 Azilal, 230 Baghdad, 234 Balafrej, Ahmed, 63 balgha, (shoes), 103 Balli, Mme., 131, 99 Bardo Museum, Tunis, Tunisia, 35 Barr, Patricia, 203 barrad (teapot), 121 bastardised style, Moroccan, 186 Bauhaus, 239 Baylkoc, Desiré, 105 Bazet, Renée, 17, 29, 102, 107, 110, 121-22, 131 bazzars, 187 Beaumetz, M., 153 beauty,148, 156; Ideal Beauty, 147 Beaux-Arts Administration, French, 153-54 Beirut, 200-01 Beirut, Lebanese National School of Trade and

272

ART IN THE SERVICE OF COLONIALISM

Craft, 200 Bel, A., 107, 110, 122-27, 131 Belgium, 68, 80, 136, 138-40; academic art reforms, 139; art, craft, and industry, 139; new designs, 139; patriotism, 139 Belkahia, Farid, 9, 235-39, 242, 245; attack on Western art, 236; "moroccanity," 238; cultural "melange," 238; decolonising Moroccan art, 11; messianic opposition, 236; Moroccan art, 236; Moroccan identity, 236; social role of artists and status, 238; Western culture, 236 Ben Gnaoui, ma`alma, 119 Ben Mansour, Abd al-Ouahhab, 231 Benabdallah, Omar Amine, 230 Beni Mellal, 34 Bennani, Abdelhadi, 163, 165, 189 Berber, 27, 30-31, 49, 231, 238, 244 Berchid, 212, Berque, Jacques, 27; on amin, 41; on guilds, 57; on medinas, 57, monitoring the guilds from within, 58; Moroccan Arab and Berber crafts, 32; on Moroccan architecture, 32; on Moroccan crafts, 44; on Moroccan craftsmen, 45; on structure of guilds, 38-39 Bipictorialists, 243-44, 246; and bilingualism, 245; as cultural mediators, 244 Birmingham, 140 Birth of Modern Moroccan Art, 239 Blanc, General A., 64 bled al-Makhzen, 5-6; bled al-Siba, 5-6; Boime, Albert, 141 Bontemps, M., 140 Bordeaux, 187 Boston, 187 Bou, Regreg River, 48-49 Bou`naniya, madrassa, 163 Boudnib, 61 Bouillot, Louise, 107, 110-13, 114, 116, 119, 131; concept of "antique," 110; "evolution and not revolution," 108; mission, 108-109; slogan, 108 Boukous, Mohamed, 230 Bourgeois, M. 27 Bourry, M., 173 Brindeau, Edouard, 12, 222-23 Britain, 166, 138; "art piracy," 140; "industrial war," against France, 140; art curriculum, 140; Department of Applied Arts, 140; drawing in, 140; Empire program, 22; House of Commons, 140; new paradigm of colonialism, 140; Parliament, 140; Trade Council, 140; Brodbeck, Miss, 124-125 Brodskis, Jacqueline, 18, 203-04, 216, 242-43; "a new eye," 217; "avant-garde painting," 217; "good" painting, 217; "high" art, 217; "Madame le Protectorat," 219; "moral obligation," 216; abstraction, 217; art history, 217; French painting, 217-18; French Visual culture, 217; and Moroccan autodidact painters, 218; on Moroccan society, 220

Brodskis, Youra, 216 Brown, Kenneth, 36, 46; àm jabun, 63; "noble" crafts, 46; guilds in Salé, 57 Brunot, Louis, 81, 95, 98-99, 118, 127-29, 173, 196-97, 199-200; on the French language, 81; on Moroccan crafts and craftsmen, 198 Bulletin de l’enseignement public au Maroc, 34, 176-77 Bureau of Foreign Affairs, 190 Bureau of political Affairs, 85 Bureau of Regional Information, 48 Byzantium, 139 Cabanel, Alexandre, 146, 152 Cabinet d’Archives, 193 Cabinet de Dessin, 184 Cambrai, 157 Carnet d’Apprentissage, 82 Casablanca Group, 9, 239-241; and art and crafts, 241 Casablanca House of Native Crafts, 66 Casablanca medina, 104, 222 Casablanca School of Fine Arts, 17, 204, 206, 239, 245; curriculum, 223; see also École des Beaux-Arts, Casablanca Casablanca ville nouvelle, 87-88, 104-105, 224 Casablanca, 2, 4, 6, 34, 61, 64, 78, 87, 100, 104,123-24, 128, 157, 194, 199, 212, 221, 224, 240; charitable society, 103; Darb Sidna, 104; Madiouna Avenue, 104 Casablanca, École des Beaux-Arts 17, 204, 206, 239, 245; see also Casablanca School of Fine Arts Casablanca, Ferme Blanche, 81, 104, 176 Casablanca, industrial city, 223 Casablanca, Lyautey High School, 222 Casbah (an old district or fortress in the medina), 221 Casbah vocational school, 87-88, 102 Central Cooperative of Crafts and Trades, 81 Central Europe, 37 Central School of Drawing, London, 140 Centre Marocain pour la Recherche Esthéthique et Philosophique, Marrakesh, 9 Cha`bana (commemoration of the martyrdom of Imam Houssine), 119 Chabaa, Mohamed, 9, 239, 242, 9 Chailley, Joseph, 72; on inequality, 74 Chamber of Commerce, 64 Chambers of Commerce and Agriculture, 82 Channel, the, 139 Charitable Society, Casablanca,103 Charronage (documentary film), 174-76 Chenail, M., 172-73; "rational" teaching manner, 173 Cherkaoui, Ahmed, 9, 244 Chichaoua, 128 China, 12, Choissy, 140 Civil Control Bureau, 82 Civil Controller, 99, 129, 218 Colliez, André, 4, 79

INDEX Colonial Convention of 1889, 75 Colonial, cultural episteme, 238; discourse, 120, 131, 227; French, 68; doctrine, 221; experience, 246; French machinery, 33; hegemony, 77, 130; hierarchy, 15; ideology, 19, 54, 77, 194; mass education, 79; methods of, 72; plans, 188; politics of domination, 228; rule, 221; visual culture, 21; see also colonialism Colonialism, 14, 244; "association," 74; "domination," 74; "emancipation," 74; "evolution and not revolution," 108; "informal," 14; "moderate," 75; "modern craftsmen," 93, "native system," 53; "new art" of, 72; "peaceful colonisation," 47, 68; "the white man’s burden," 74; agenda, 20, 79; and "man of colour," 75; and slavery, 72; and social integration, 75; as humanitarian assistance, 106-107; assimilation, 73; assimilationists, 75; see also assimilation; Britain’s new paradigm of, 140; civilising mission, 165; agenda, 20; culture, 120; education theory, 77; French cause, 105, 108; French conquest of Morocco, 53; French plans, 231; French political agenda, 54; humanitarian purpose of, 118; Moroccan cause, 178; of generosity, 74; of humanitarianism, 74; physical contact, 76; power, 224; program of, 47; racial segregation, 52; technique of civic vigour, 14; tempéré, 75; theoreticians of, 74, 76, 91; see also colonial Commerce Bureau, 66 Committee of Commerce and Industry, 82 Committee of Economic Studies, 87, 89, 100 Committee of Public Safety of the French Revolutions, 72 Conférence économique Impériale, Paris, 1935, 28 Congrès des Arts Plastiques, Damascus, 232 Counord, Mrs., 128 Courrière, T., Warrant, 91, 94-96 Craft Committee, 65, 67 Craft Fund, 64 Craft museums, 60, 182, 186 Craft Office, 98, 230 Craft Trading Post, 191 crafts, 59, 68, 72, 88, 93, 98; "artistic," 62; "artistic" characteristics of women’s, 111; "authentic" artefacts and replicas, 60- 61, 229; authentification of Moroccan 182; "authentic" models, 165; "authentic" Moroccan, 184, 227, 242; "degenerate" Moroccan, 227; "High," 44; "indigenise," 160; "instincts" of Moroccans craftsmen, 198; "Low," 44; "luxurious," 46; "moderate crafts," 46; "new authenticity," 62; "noble," 44, 46; 48, 65; "picturesque features," 116; "revolting," 44, 46; aesthetics of, 62; aesthetics of women’s, 111; and French colonial agenda, 46; Arab and Berber, 30- 31; definitions, 228; definition of Moroccan, 178; economy and women’s, 111; education, 89; European, 223; female, 30, 32, 108, 120, 126, 174; French definitions of Moroccan, 46; gender segregation, 228; graphic documentation,

273

62; heritage, Moroccan, 184; industry-related, 204; and modern life, 155; models, 184-85; Moroccan "artefact types," 191; Moroccan "modern" crafts, 190; Moroccan architecture and, 32; Moroccan crafts and Western art, 121; Moroccan scholarship on, 229; patron saints of, 120; pedagogy, 68; reforms of, 36; prototypes, Moroccan, 186; urban and rural, 29-31, 68; visual categorisation of Moroccan, 182; and visual tradition, 245; see also craftsmen, guilds craftsmen, 63, 65, 67, 82, 85, 87, 103; "heroic stature" of, 62; as vital social class, 68; Austrian, 138; French, 137, 140, 145, 157; French metropolitan, 81; high originality of Moroccan 190; incompatibility with modern business, 66; see also crafts, guilds creativity, 162, see also art Crystal Palace International Exhibition, London,135-136, 143 Cubism, 243 Cultural Festival in Asilah, 234 curriculum, 85, 91, 99, 135, 194, 201; "absolute rules," 141; flexible, 99; modern, 131; vocational, 191 Czechoslovakia, 80 Da Vinci, Leonardo, 148 Dahir (law), April 8, 1917, 50, 52-53; Berber, 63, 130, 190, 200; May 22, 1919, 184; May 1937 Damascus, 232 Dar `Adiyal, 122; 124; 128; craft training at, 125126 Dar`a, 80 Darwin, Charles, 73 Daumier, Honoré, 170 David, Jaques Louis, 150 De Avonde, M., 54 De Boisbaudran, Horace Lecoq, 158, 170, 172, 210; and memory drawing, 158, 170 De Laborde, Léon, 135-41, 43, 155; and Crystal Palace International Exhibition, 135 De Lunel, Tranchant, 161; definition of fine artists, 161 De Nazière, M., 58-59; reforms of technicalities, 58; two types of guilds, 58 De Robespierre, Maximilien, 72 De Staël, Nicolas, 8 De Tarde, Alfred, 163, 168; and Style, 163 Déclassés, colonial, 77; in France, 72, 142; in Morocco, 91 decolonisation, 21, 244, 246 découpage, 124 Delacroix, Eugène, 8 Delaroche, Paul, 150 Delmas-Fort, M., 32, 38, 68; on Moroccan Arab and Berber crafts, 32; Demnate, 212 Denmark, 137 Department of Fine Arts, Historical Monuments, and Antiquities, 161 Department stores, 187 Discourse, French colonial, 227

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ART IN THE SERVICE OF COLONIALISM

divan (couch), 123 Doghmi, Larbi, 206 Douar Roussia, Rabat, 206 Doukkali, Bou Cha_b, 100 Doyle, Michael W., "formal" and "informal" imperial rule, 5 Drawing curriculum, in the Protectorate, 20, 142, 159-160, 168, 170; in France, 143-44, 146, 148, 153 Drawing, 60, 81, 93, 98, 104-105, 141, 151, 196-98, 222; and anatomy, 150; and descriptive geometry, 145; and dexterity, 160; and geometric representation, 168; and geometry, 150, and grammar, 151; and graphic models, 150; and language, 148; and lettering and writing, 171; and mathematics, 150; and memory visualising, 161,172; and perspective, 145, 148; and photography, 152; and reading, 145; and tracing, 176; and writing, 144, 147; as science of measuring, 172; as universal language, 158; as visual communication, 206; decorative, 143, 145, 150; descriptive, 147; French definition of, 146; from memory and graphic models, 171; from memory, 158, 171, 210; geometric drawing vs. fine arts, 146; geometric, 81, 145-48, 150; graphic representation, 81; in Britain, 140; in French high schools, 143; industrial, 150; inventories, 61; lessons, 95; life, 146-147; linear tracing, 145; models in France, 143; program in France, 142; the human figure, 143-, 150; universal principles of geometry, 170 Drissi, Moulay Ahmed, 234 Dumas, Paul, 76 Dumax, Miss, 128 Dup, Charles, 148 dwali (vine leaves), 121 École des Beaux-Arts, Casablanca, 206 École des Beaux-Arts, Paris, 141, 152, 216 École Nationale de Dessin et de Mathématique, Paris, 150-51 École Royale et Spéciale du Dessin (École des Art Décoratifs), Paris, 170 École Supérieure des Beaux-Arts, 17, 148, 158 Écoles Supérieure des Beaux-Arts, France, 224 Economic Affairs Bureau, 65-66 Education, inspector, 89, 94; colonial mass, 91; colonial theory, 77; English system, 75; FrancoMoroccan, 130; French modern, 143; French vocational, 146; in France, 72; mass, 78- 79; missionary education in Algeria, 76 Egypt, 48, 136, 150, 243; art of, 139 El Jedida, see Mazagan El Maleh, Edmond Amran,11, 238 Empire, British, 22, 203; British women and, 203; European, 135; French, 6, 74, 188; Roman, 27-73 England, 153, 187 Equality, of races, 72 Essaouira, 60, see Mogador Europe, 12, 36, 59, 108, 137, 137, 160, 218, 231 European Low Countries, 68

Exhibitions, see Fairs Expositions, see Fairs Fairs, "Exposition of Moroccan crafts," Paris Museum of Decorative Arts, 61 Fairs, 1915 Casablanca Franco-Moroccan Exposition, 100, 59-60, 187 Fairs, 1916 Fez September-October Fair, 60, 66 Fairs, 1917 Rabat Moroccan, 61 Fairs, 1922 Marseille Colonial Exposition, 187 Fairs, 1924 Strasbourg Exhibition, 187 Fairs, 1925 Paris Exposition of Decorative Arts, 156, 187 Fairs, 1931 Paris International Exposition, 66 Fairs, 1937 Èxposition des Art Décoratifs, Paris, 156 Fairs, 1939 Paris Fifth Exposition du Travail, 188 Fairs, Colonial Exhibitions, 187, 222 Fairs, Exhibitions, 182 Fairs, Fair Committee, 64 Fairs, Grenoble Tourism Exposition, 187 Fairs, International, 47, 64 Fairs, itinerant exhibitions, 212 Fairs, London Crystal Palace International Exhibition, 135, 143 Fairs, permanent and temporary exhibitions, 186 Fairs, Regional Exhibitions, 128 Falaqa (beating on the soles of the feet with a stick), 43 Fantin-Latour, Henri, 170 Farouj, Fatima el-., 218, 234 Farouj, Hassan el-., 218, 234 Fassi (from Fez), 37, 93-94, 123, 125-26 Fassi, Abdeslam Ben Larbi al-., 12, 222 Fassi, Allal al-, 63 Fassi, Mohamed al-, 63 Fassi, women, 122, 125 Fathémy, el-., birth of modern Moroccan art, 8 Fatma bint Driss Abdeljelil, 124 Fedala (now Mohammedia), 6, 128, 223 Fédération des Sociétés Françaises de Propagande et d’Enseignement Artistique et Technique, 156 Ferme Blanche, 81, 104, 176 Fez Jdid, school, 128; vocational school, 130-31 Fez medina, 65, 123, 124, 196 Fez, 2, 34, 36, 38, 48, 50, 55, 60-62, 64-65, 78, 89, 96,123, 124, 130, 131, 157, 159, 163, 186, 186, 190, 199, 204, 212; 1918 fire, 53; Fez Jdid, 38, 91, 93, 124-25; guilds, 64; medina, 65, 123, 124, 196; ville nouvelle, 91, 96, 126; Lamtiyine Franco-Arab school, Fez, 124; Moulay Idriss High School, Fez, 130, vocational school, 105 Finances Administration, 66 Finatau, Marcel, 102, 194 Fine Arts Services, Marrakesh, 159 fine arts, 4,141, 147 Fine Arts, Academic, 239 Fine arts, workshops, 239 First Biennial of Arab artists, Baghdad, 234 Five Loan Banks, 66 Flushy, M., 105-6

INDEX Foreign Office, 216 Foucault, Michel, 40, 95, 100; "disciplinary careers," 15 fqih (female instructor of the Koran), 125 fqiha (male instructor of the Koran), 125-28 France, 3, 5-7, 27, 35- 36, 54, 59, 66, 68, 72-73, 80, 135, 136, 137, 139, 141, 157, 159, 165, 168, 187, 210, 216, 244; "artistic reputation," 153; "Bloody Week," 142;"grandeur," of, 153; "high taste," 152; "mother country," 246; "national artistic heritage," 152; "patriotic mission" of art, 154; art culture, 225; art education, 21; artistic prestige, 155; Beaux-Arts Administration, 153-54; Beaux-Arts High Council, 151; colonial program, 21; colonies, 188; the Commune, 141-43; craftsmen, 145, 48,150; drawing curriculum, 142, 144; FrancoPrussian war, 141-43; labour unions, 144; Ministry of Public Education, 142, 151-52; National Archives in Paris, 146; national industries, 142-43; national taste, 156-57; reforms of art education, 154; reforms of vocational schools, 145; schools, 71; schools of Fine Arts and Decorative Arts, 154; social malaise, 155; trade activities with the Protectorate, 6-7; urban grammar schools, 144; visual culture, 20, vocational school reforms, 142; vocational schools, 146, 151, 154; vocational training, 148; West African colonies, 68 France-Maroc, 34 Franco-Arab schools, 14, 19, 91 Franco-Jewish school, 72 French colonies, vocational education, 77 Funduq (shelter), 37, 43, 104 Gabriel-Rousseau, M., 169-70, 172, 222 Garde Noire (Moroccan army), 48 Gauls, 73 Geertz, Clifford, 61 General Administration of Public Education, 1416, 20, 60, 72, 78, 80, 81-82, 85, 87, 91, 95, 98-99, 101-102, 104-105, 107, 108, 111, 11617, 122, 125-26, 152, 159-60, 165, 168, 170, 173-74, 176, 178-79, 190-91, 193-94, 196-98, 200, 203-04, 209, 211, 214, 218 General Inspector of Grammar Education, 199 General Inspector of Public Education, 128 General Inspector of the Native Education Bureau, 81, 95, 173, 196-97 General Inspector of Vocational Education and Drawing, 169 General Secretariat of the Moroccan Charifian Government, 79, 123 Germany, 139, 153, 154, 68 Gewerbinstituts, 137 Gharbaoui, Jilali, 9, 244 Gillet, G., 79, 82 Glaoui, Hassan el., 234 Gotteland, Jean, 131, 200-01, 216, 218, 221 Goum (Moroccan soldiers), 66 grace, 148, see also art, beauty Grammar Franco-Arab School, Fez, 163

275

Grand Vizier, 58, 100, 102, 104, 204; see also Mohamed al-Moqri graphic models, 151, 153, 158, 230; and memory drawing, 171; and photography, 152; learning style from, 151; see also drawing Great Britain, 139 Greece, 12, 139, 162 Grenoble, 157 Gros, Baron, 150 Gruner, Roger, 203 Gruner, Simone, 204, 207, 216-118, 220, 242; on "art," 210-14; "soupage," 207; and "a Moroccan Matisse," 207; "natural" artistic talent of Moroccans, 214; and Active Method, 211; on art history, 214; on imagination, 211; and memory drawing, 210; on natural skills, 210; on perception, 211; on spontaneity, 206, 210; on visual culture, 208; itinerant exhibitions, 212; My Mother exhibition, Tokyo, 214; pedagogy, 210; teaching method, 207-11; "turtle dove" assignment, 210 Guabbas, M., Grand Vizier, 100 Guérin, Marcel, 150 Guilds, 1, 28-29, 34, 41, 43, 47, 50, 65, 67, 68; "new vitality," 52; and Moroccan economy, 58; and social harmony, 37; and the "native sector," 47; apprenticeship in craft workshops, 40; as loose organisations 19; as shield against nationalists, 64; as social institutions, 51; backbone of medina’s economy, 55; categories of, 37; common mentality of craftsmen, 57; competition between craftsmen, 38; control of, 48; customary laws of, 57; duty of master craftsmen, 39; examination, 41; Fekharrine, 55; Fez, 64; foreign craftsmen, 52; French craft inspector, 52; Haddadine, 55; infiltration of, 18; membership, 38; merchants, 64; Moroccan Arab craftsmen, 30; Moroccan Jewish craftsmen, 52; Muslim and Jewish craftsmen, 38; Muslim, 52; Nejjarine, 55; old structures of, 52; patron saints of, 39; psychology and morality of craftsmen, 39; public harmony, 39; reforms, 7, 16, 47, 49, 228; religious groups, 38; shopkeepers, 58; socialisation of craftsmen, 57; solidarity among craftsmen, 29; trade unionism 59; traders, 58; traditional tenets of, 29; Weberian qualities of, 57 Guillaume, Eugène, 148, 150; on aesthetic appreciation, 148; on balance, symmetry, and harmony, 148 Guyot, Jeanne, 221 Guyot, René, 221 Habous (pious foundations), 4, Hafid, Moulay (Sultan of Morocco), 4 Hainaut, J. 27, 32; on Moroccan architecture, 32 Hamadsha, 56 Hammamat Conference, Tunisia, 234 Hammams (public baths), 43 Hanbal (carpet-blanket), 117 Hardy, George, 15, 27, 31, 51, 101, 118, 191, 194, 222; 1920 reforms plan of, 52-53; draft,

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ART IN THE SERVICE OF COLONIALISM

58; gentle way of control, 51; on guilds, 57-50 harmony and the contrast of colours, 169 haska (candlestick), 121 Hassan I, Moulay al-, (Moroccan Sultan), 93 Hassani, Abderrahman ben Kacem elhayani, el-., 199 Haut, Mme, 128 hegemony, 14, 77; colonial, 4, 130; French, 5; French colonial visual culture, 229; French cultural, 15, 225; see also colonialism heritage, Arab and Islamic cultural, 231; see also Moroccan heritage heritage, Moroccan, 229 Herriot, Edouard, 74, 155 Hespéris, 34, 230 high art, 217; see also art High Atlas, 60 Hokusai, Katsushika, 170 Holland, 66 Houz, 60 Huot, Lieutenant Colonel, 52, 54 hybrid aesthetics, 243 hygiene, 97, 116, 97 identity, and authenticity, 246; and nationalistic art, 246; Arab, 231; Moroccan national, 232, 234, 244-45; Moroccan self, 245; national visual, 244; see also, Farid Belkahia; Jacques Azema Ideology, 204; colonial, 204, 228; metropolitan ideology, 246 Idhar al-Haq, newspaper, 101 Impressionism, 243 India, 12, 22, 73, 75, 203 Inequality, 74 Ingres, J. B. D., 150 Inspection Offices of the Native Craft Industry, 60-64 instinct and Moroccan craftsmen, 162; see also art, craftsmen Institut de Recherche et de Coordination Artistique et Technique, 156 Institut du Monde Arabe, Paris, 8; Iraq, 243 Islam, 5; laws and women, 118 Ismail, Othman Othman, 230; "historical clash" between Moroccans and the French, 231; critique of Western scholars, 231 Isnad, 28 Italy, 62, 139, 153, 187-88, 62 Ja`i, M. al-, 100 Jacquard mechanical weaving system, 35 jallaba (man’s hooded cloak), 66, 103 Jamaa al-Fana, 12, 223, 242; see also Marrakesh Japan, 214 Joint Chamber of Commerce and Agriculture, 97 Julien, Charles-André, 47, 224; "prospero," 221; "cultural greenhouse," 6; "nominal" colony, 4; critique of colonialism, 225; on community of "whites" in Morocco, 221; on European colonists, 221; on the "petit blancs," 221 Kacimi, Mohamed, 218 Kandinsky, Wassili, 9

Katan, Yvette, 162; colonial education, 18 Kayraouani, Ali el, 105 Kenitra, 223 Khalifa (pl. Khalifas, deputy), 41 khamsa (talisman), 121 Khatibi, Abdelkebir, 8, 234, 245 Khattabi, Abdelkrim, al., 4; rebellion, 4; see also Rif kholkhal (ankle bracelet), 121 Khouribga, 78 kissan (teacup), 121 Klee, Paul, 8-9, Koran, 28, 128 Ksar Souq, 212 L’Afrique Française, 6, 222 La Collection du Ministère, Paris, 152 La Kasbah association 222 Labbé, Edmond, 154, 156 Labdaoui, Abdellah, 244 Labied, Miloud 218 Lamtiyine Franco-Arab school, Fez, 124 Language, French, 78 Laprade, Albert, 157 Larache, 49 Latin America, 12 Lavigerie, Father, 76, orphans of, 76 Le Bon, Gustave, 73; and Darwin’s evolutionary principles, 73, 77 Le dessin au service de l’éducation, 210 Le Glay, Maurice, 33 Le Musée Pédagogique du Maroc, 191, 193-94 Le nouveau corpus des tapis marocains, 230 Le Soir Marocain, newspaper, 198 Le Toureau, Roger, 27, 32, 47, 160; "aristocracie artisanale," 45; "Fassi citizenship," 45; on the Makina, 94; on Fassi craftsmen, 56; "patriotism of a new style," 63; on art, 44; labour in the Pre-protectorate, 38; on Moroccan craftsmen, art, and beauty, 45; on muhtassib, 42 Lebanon, 188 Leo Africanus, 32 Les arts appliqués, 222 Lewis, Reina, 18 Libya, 188 Lille, 157, 187 Limoge, 157 Lithography, 152 Loan Banks, 64, 67 London, 135; Central School of Drawing, 140; Metropolitan School of Practical Arts, 140; vocational schools, 140 Loth, Gaston, 78, 83, 100, 122, 129, 162 Louardighi, Ahmed, 219, 234-35; ideological intervention, 235; Mosquée marocaine (no 19), 235; and women, 235 Louvre, 137, antique collection, 152 Lyautey, Hubert, 4-6, 15, 28, 51, 52, 83, 96, 110, 123, 157, 187, 196, 222-23; "native policy" of, 33-, 34, 53, 59, 108; and education for Moroccans, 194; and prototype vocational schools, 101; divisive vision of, 29; education

INDEX for Moroccans, 72; experience in Algeria, 5; flexible ideology of, 34; French hegemony, 4; indirect rule of, 228; mobilisation of French scholars, 36; modernisation of Moroccan industries, 27; passive revolution, 4; peaceful colonisation of Morocco, 4; protecting the medinas, 33; reforms, 4; Lyautey, Madame, 125 Lyon, 35, 37, 157 ma`alam (pl. ma`alams; master craftsman), 41, 45, 67, 88-89-91, 93, 99, 104; ethics of, 67; see also craftsmen; guilds ma`alma (pl. ma`almat, female master and instructor of craft), 109-10, 112-114, 117-19, 122, 126-28, 176-79, 199, 230 Macon Auzerre, 157 Madrassa (pl. madrassas, school or university attached to a mosque), 32, 56, 93; Fez Jdid, 93 Mageard, Capitiane, 48 Maghreb Art, journal, 9 mahbaq (flower pot), 121 Maison Citroyen, 194 Maison de réunions des fillettes de la bourgeoisie [musulmane], 122-23, 125; "European room," 123-24; "Moroccan room,"124; teaching at, 124-125 Majliss (council), 97 Makhzen (Moroccan government), 3-4, 14, 19, 36, 41, 45, 47-50, 54, 56, 58, 65, 71-72, 80, 82, 94, 100, 106, 111, 114, 123, 125; calculated psychological order, 55; Moroccan Palace, 52, 63; politics of laissez-faire, 51; social order, 6-7 Makina Company, 95 Makina pilot workshop, 93, 95-98; as "beehive," 95; drawing and theoretical curricula, 196; moral task of, 96 Malaga, 62 Mamounia gallery, Rabat, 204 Manchester, 36- 37 Maraini, Toni, 9; 238; "Matisse’s grand-sons," 236; "the first Modern Moroccan artist," 222; and craftsmen, 38; crafts, art history, archaeology, anthropology, and ethnography, 12-13; gender classification of crafts, 13; Hegelian reading of stylistic development, 9 Marinid Dynasty, 163 Marion, Lieutenant, 109, 111, 113, 118 Maroquinery, 67, 79 Marrakesh medina, 43 Marrakesh, 2, 12, 34, 36-38, 43, 48, 60-61, 64, 78-79, 85, 87, 89, 91, 102, 157, 190, 199, 212, 223, 230, 242; Advisory Committee, 103; Committee for Economic Studies, 89; Fine Arts Services, 159; medina, 43; Native Crafts Service, 169; vocational school, 87, 105 Marseille, 187 Marty, Paul, 96-97 mashmoom (bouquet), 163 Massignon, Louis, 34 material culture, Moroccan, 230

277

Matisse, Henri, 8 Mayeur, Jean-Marie, 142, 144 Mazagan (now El Jedida), 34, 61, 64, 78, 105106, 128, 199 medina (pl. medinas; Moroccan walled cities) 1, 2, 6, 16, 27-28, 36-37, 43, 46-47, 49, 53, 58-59, 61, 68, 78, 85, 91, 94, 96, 98-99, 109-130, 177, 187, 188, 196-97, 203, 210; "ghettoised," 236; Arab, 31; attributes with villages, 42; aristocracy of, 46; division of labour within, 38; economy of, 51, 62, 67, 72, 106, 186, 228; craft workshops, 77, 80-81, 83, 87, 97, 239; Moroccan sector, 77; traditional industries, 81 Mekkah, 30 Meknes, 2, 34, 36-38, 60-62, 64, 78, 157, 182, 186, 190, 199, 212 Melihi, Mohamed, 9, 239, 241, 245 mellah (Moroccan Jewish quarter), 38, 49 Memmi, Albert, 236 metropole, 74, 76, 78, 80, 135 Metropolitan School of Practical Arts, London,140 Middle Ages, 145, 147 Middle Atlas, 60 Middle East, 30, 33, 188, 234 Midelt, 61 Military expedition to Casablanca, 221 Millet, Aimé, 151 Millet, Jean François, 170 Minister of French colonies, 75 Ministry of Craft and Social Affairs, Moroccan, 230 Ministry of Public Education, France, 151 Minton, 140 Missionary Franciscan Sisters, 182 Mogador (now Essaouira), 34, 37, 60-61, 78-79, 198, 199 Mohamed, the Prophet, 119, 128; "Mahomet," 76 Mohammedia, 212, see Fedala Mondrian, Piet, 9 Montagnac, M. 105-6 Moorish style, 183 Moqri, Grand Vizier Mohamed al-, 54-55, 59, 68, 102, 204; on guilds, 55; on Moroccan culture, 57; and trade unionism, 56; uniqueness of guilds, 58; opposes Hardy’s plan, 54-55; see also Grand Vizier Moqri, Taib al-., 104 Moravid (Moroccan dynasty), 33 Moroccan Charifian Export Bureau, 66 Moroccan Charifian General Secretariat, 48 Moroccan Charifian Government, 48 Moroccan Charifian Office of Export, 64-66 Moroccan Craft Bureau, 28 Moroccan Craft Trading Post, 66 Moroccan Trade Office in Paris, 187 Moroccan-Andalusian miniature, 12 Moulay Driss, 204, 212 Moulay Idriss High School, Fez, 130 Moulay Youssel High School, 102

278

ART IN THE SERVICE OF COLONIALISM

msids (Koranic schools), 89, 98, 111, 206-7, 203 muhtasib (pl. muhtasibs; market inspector), 6, 41, 43-44, 49-54, 57-58, 65, 191 muqaddam (neighbourhood chief), 42 Musée Pedagogique, Paris, 152 museums, 182-84, 194; of Ancient Crafts, 60; women schools, 127 Museums, Batha, Fez; Dar `Adiyal, Fez; Dar Jam`i, Meknes; Dar Si S`id, Marrakesh; Loudaia, Rabat, 182 Museums, the four, 186 Muslim High Schools, 72 My Mother exhibition, Tokyo, 214 Nadhir (Makhzen Administration Inspector), 119 Nancy, 157 National School of Trade and Craft, Beirut, 200 Nationalism, 238; Morocan,130-32; Moroccan nationalists, 63 Native Affair Bureau, 66 Native Craft Legislative Studies Bureau, 66 Native Crafts Service, 66, 165, 169, 182, 184-85, 188; (the Service of Native Trade and crafts), 190 Native Crafts Service, Marrakesh, 169 Nativists, 235, 239, 244-45 Neigel, M. 102 Neo-Salafists, 232 Neo-traditionalists, 232 New Medinas, 45 New York, 187 Nietzsche, Frederick, 155 Noguès, General, 64 North Africa, 3, 29-30, 33, 35, 73, 234 North African Muslim Students Association, 63 North America, 187-88 Noufissa bint Driss al-Amrani, 124 Nouvelle, Jacques, 218 Office of Craft Industry, 61 Office of Native Craft Industry, 61- 62 Office of Native Crafts, 65 Olmer, Pierre, 158 One Thousand and One Nights, 206 Open Workshops, 2, 7, 17-18, 168, 222, 242; pedagogical curricula, 21 ordre moral, 142, 146; see also Third Republic Orient, 231 Orientalism, 27, 131; European artists, 9; women, 18; colonial scholarship, 122; French originality, 135, 140-41, 219; and "French national taste," 139; and "primitiveness," 139; creativity, 136; artistic, 136; through imitation, 137, 141; threat to French, 136; through appropriation, 138-41; through observation, 139 Ouarzazate, 80, 212 Ouazzani, Hassan al-., 63 Oudaias Kasbah, 221 Oujda, 4, 18, 34, 61, 78, 128, 199, 212 Ouzzane, 212 Palermo, 62 Parcs Automobile Militaire, 194 Paris, 63, 123, 137, 137, 142, 157, 206

Parisian Trade Chamber, 153 Pasha, 41, 49-50, 102, 119, 124, 199; ex-pasha, 124 pastiche, 155 Paul, Marty, plan of, 96-97 Pectallozzi, M. 148 pedagogy, 99, 106, 135, 165, 172, 177, 196, 239; crafts, 68; pre-training, 176; principles in France, 150; vocational, 160, 229 Persia, 29 Phidias, 147 Pillet, M., 159-60 Pilot workshop, 91, 94-97, 196; see also Makina plurality of schools, 72 Poland, 80 Political Affair Bureau, 65 Populists, 234, 245 Postcolonial, 219, 238; Moroccan artists, 225 Post-impressionism, 243 Pour comprendre l’art musulman dans l’Afrique du Nord et en Espagne, 172-73 Pre-colonial, art practices, 238 Prefet de la Seine (the prefect of the Paris Commune), 152 Pre-protectorate, 111; pre-training division, 16568; pre-training in grammar schools, 98; Pre-protectorate, 16, 41, 71; cast system, 17; imperial cities, 38; social relief system, 64; system of payment, 129; vocational pedagogy, 160; women’s craft training, 110; craft workshops, 197 President of the French Senate, 74 Principal Chief Inspector of the Military Police, Rabat, 221 Prix de Rome, 146 propaganda, 35; among guilds, 54; and women’s schools, 118-28; in France, 156 Prost, Henri, 157 protégés, system of, 3 Prussia, 137 Qa`ida (Moroccan tradition), 39, 41, 44, 50, 55, 58, 67 Qadi (judge), 43, 119 Qaid (city chief), 41 qaissaria, (trade district; market)37 qronfal (flowers), 121 Rabat Biennial, 234 Rabat medina, 49, 120-121, 194, 222 Rabat, `Akkari School, 101 Rabat, 2, 6, 34, 37, 37- 38, 48-49, 52, 60-62, 6465, 78, 87, 119, 122-23t, 127-28, 157, 178-79, 182, 184, 186, 190-91, 199, 206, 210, 212, 214, 220-21, 234; Rabat, Bou Regreg River, 48; Exposition of, 66; Grand Mosque, 48; Okasha neighbourhood, 48, Radlani home, 121-22; Sidi Fatah Street, 121 Rabat-Salé, 36, 49, 60 Rabaud, Jean, 103, 105 Rabinow, Paul, 224; "Meddling Modernism," 224 rajlin ballaraj (legs of stork), 121 Raphael, 141, 143, 147

INDEX Ravaison, Felix, 146-47, 152; on "beauty," 148; on "grace," 148; on "Ideal Beauty," 147; and drawing curriculum, 147; and life drawing, 147; and the human figure, 148; Classiques de l’Art, 146 Rebérious, Madelaine, 153 Reforms, of 1920, 59, 61, of 1937-38, 64; of 1937-38, 67; as defence organism, 67; Belgium academic art reforms, 139; colonial, 188; craft, 107, 227; educational, 71, 78, 85, 203; French art, 157; French drawing, 143; French industrial, 142; Moroccan, 93; French art education, 154; guilds, 204; vocational schools in France, 145, 158; vocational training in France, 157; technicalities, 58 Regional Committees of Commerce and Industry, 80 Regional Education Inspector, 194, 199 Regional Grammar School Inspector, 179 Regional Inspector of Primary Education, 81 Regional Loan Banks, 190-91 Regional Saving and Credits Banks, 64 renaissance, Arab cultural, 231 Reserve Officer, 221 Residency Bureau of Native Affairs, 96 Resident General, 63- 65, 103 Revue d’enseignement colonial, 193 Revue du Monde Musulmane, 34 Ricard, Prosper, 27, 30, 36-37, 59-61, 184, 182, 188, 190, 222, 229; categorisation of Moroccan craftsmen, 29; corpus, 230; documentation, 61; in Tunisia, 35; on craft and industry, 28; on Moroccan architecture, 32; Pour comprendre l’art musulman dans l’Afrique du Nord et en Espagne, 172-73; systemised information, 61 Rif, 4, risorgimento artistique, 165, 168 Rivet, Daniel, 5, 18, 47; French "foreign logic" in Morocco, 54; on Jacqueline Brodskis, 220; on Lyautey; 5, 34; Roberspierre, Maximilien de, 72-73 Rodin, Auguste, 170 Rome, 139 Roumani, 204 roumis (Chrisian French), 91 roumiya (Christian woman), 113, 119 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 72-73 Russia, 136, 153 Sa`ada, al-., newspaper, 101 Saba` al-Miloud (commemoration of the birth of the Prophet Mohamed), 128-29 Safi, 61-62, 64, 79, 186, 199 Safrou, 78 Sahara, 4 Said, Edward W., 5; 244; "travelling theory," 244 Salé medina, 111-12, 116-17; workshops, 116 Salé, 34, 48, 52, 57, 78-79, 108, 118-19, 122, 126-27, 129-30, 182, 186, 199, 212, 221, 223; 230; Bab Houssine, 110-11; Dar ben `Attar, 111; Dar Moulay `Abbas Kartous, 111-14; Franco-Arab school, 110

279

Salmand, M. 95 Salon artists, 146 salon virus in France, 144 sansla dial tior (chain of birds), 121 Sarraut, Albert, 75, 77; on equality, 75 Saussure, Léopold de, 73, 76-77; and Gustave le Bon, 75, 77; and rationalisation of colonialism, 75 Scandinavian Countries, 187 School diploma, 97 School of Fine Arts, pedagogical curricula, 21 Schools, Rabat `Akkari Franco-Arab, 194; Casablanca Lyautey High, 222; École des Beaux-Arts, 141; École Supérieure des BeauxArts, Paris, 148; Ferme Blanche, Casablanca, 81, 104, 176; Fez Franco-Arab grammar and high, 98; for French women, Rabat, 117; for Moroccan notables, Casablanca, 172; FrancoMuslim grammar, 78; French urban grammar, 144; Grammar, 97; Lamtiyine Franco-Arab, 124; Lebanese National School of Trade and Craft, Beirut, 200; London Central School of Drawing, 140; Mogador vocational, 198; Moulay Driss High, 96, 130, 223; Moulay Youssef High, 102; of Decorative Art and Tapestry, Paris, 153; of Fine Arts, Casablanca, 2, 7, 9, 17, 20, 204, 222, 239-40, see also École des Beaux-Arts, Casablanca; of house management, Rabat, 221; Lycée Fémelon, Paris, 204; of Oriental Languages, Paris, 107; Collège des Orangers, Rabat, 204; rural grammar, 78; Marrakesh Sidi Bel `Abas vocational, 87-88, 102; Salé vocational, 221; Taza vocational, 198; Salé women’s vocational, 199; Rabat women’s vocational, 189 Sebti Brothers, 65 Sefrou, 34, 199 Senegal, 48, 66 Serghini, Mohamed, 9 Service of Youth and Sports, 2, 20, 98, 203, 207, 211-12; Department of Plastic Arts, 206, 216; Department of Popular Education, 2006; Division of Plastic Arts, 214; Theatre Association, 206 Sèvre, 137 shabak (embroidery style), 126 shabka (piece of lace work), 109 Sharif (pl. Shurfa; descendent of the Prophet Mohamed), 124 Shurfa, 43; see Sharif Sidi Bel `Abas vocational school, 87-88, 102 Sidi Ghalam, 212 Sisters of the missionary organisation of NotreDame of Africa, 35 Skhirat, 212 Slawi (from Salé), 108-110, 119; artefacts, 109; women, 129 Slimana, ma`alma, 110-11, 113-14, 116, 127; teaching method, 111-113; workshop, 114 Soldat du Tabor (Moroccan army), 48 Sophocles, 147

280

ART IN THE SERVICE OF COLONIALISM

Soulé, Miss, 128 souq (market), 177 Souret, amin Abdallah, 43 South America, 187-88 Spain, 3-4, 27, 33, 49, 56, 62-63, 137, 139, 153, 187 spontaneity, 235; see also art St. Etienne, 157 Steeg, Mme., 199 Steeg, Theodore, 199 strambiya (cushion), 121 style, 151; in Moroccan crafts, 163; Moroccan, 123; vs. "intuition," 165; see also art, craft, craftsmen Sunnah (tradition, conduct, and saying of the Prophet Mohamed), 28 supremacy, of French art, 140; of French design, 141; see also art surveillance, 114, 182 Sweden, 137, 68 Syria, 29, 188 Tabault, Roger, 204, 223 Taleb (student of religious science), 49 Tangier, 49, 61, 68, 78, 186, 212 Taroundant, 78 taste, 147; French, 136; see also art Taza, 34, 61, 78, 199, 212, 230 Terrasse, Henri, 27, 30, 32, 45; taste and race, 31 Tetouan, 49 Tharaud brothers, 36 Tharaud, Jean, 66 Tharaud, Jérôme, 66 Third Republic, 142-43, 146, 153; see also "ordre moral" Thompson, Ernest P., 16; "timed labour," 16; "time-thrift," 16 Thor, 155 Tokyo, 214, 216 Trade and Industry Bureau, 53 Trade unions, 56 Tranchant De Lunel, Maurice, 222 Treaty of Fez, 4 Tunisia, 3, 5, 22, 34-35, 66, 68, 81, 108, 160, 187, 234; Institute of Arts and Crafts, 35; museum, 35; Regency, 35; Vocational schools for women, 35 Turner, Joseph Mallord William, 170 Ulama (scholars of the Islamic religion), 56 UNESCO, 214 United States, 9, 68, 138, 140; "artistic nation," 138; "industrial nation," 138; art as know-how, 139; National Institution for the Promotion of Science and Arts, 138; originality, 138; see also America utilitarian art, 141, 156; objects, 155 Valencia, 62 Valenciennes, 157 Vernet, Horace, 170 Versailles Treaty, 154 Vieux marocains (senior colonists and early settlers), 178, 220-21 Vigno, M., 95

ville nouvelle (pl. villes nouvelles, European settlements), 1, 2, 17, 45, 48, 79-80, 91, 204, 210, 157 Virgil, 147 Visual, culture, 243; Moroccan, 136, 232, 239; heritage, Moroccan, 182; training in France, 150; vocational education, pre-training, 78 vocational schools, and promiscuity, 99; as "green houses," 90; as means of exploitation, 85; as moral obligation, 87; assimilating Moroccans, 19; curriculum, 78, 229; drawing curriculum, 20; economic and moral role of, 19; enrolment, 78; teaching methods, 16; vocational schools, French methods, 78; in France, 151; mission of, 229; mobilising the Moroccan feminine milieu, 20; modern techniques, 85; prototype, 20, 101; reforms in France, 142; role of, 79; statistic graphs, 100; system, 99; teaching methods, 127; teaching program, 229; theoretical curriculum, 81 vocational training, 81, 89, 95, 97, 200; Belgium, 139; Dar `Adiyal, 125-126; France, 135, 148, 153, 155; Maison, 124-125; Makina, 94; Preprotectorate women’s craft, 110; symbolic value of, 89; technical formation, 102; theoretical, 200; women craft schools, 116, 118; Wassiti Festival, Baghdad, al-., 234 Wesson, Robert G., 15, 22 West, 162, 238, 242; art history, 32; artistic formulas, 168; colonial past, 244; Modern Art, 239; vs. Third World, 236, 238 Western Art, 11, 28, 30, 217, 234, 243, 245, ; as superior to Moroccan crafts, 31; pictorial elements, 234-35; vs. Moroccan crafts, 18 Whistler, James, 170 William I of Wúrttemgerg, King, 137 Workshops, 87, 97 Wright, Gwendolyn, 21 Young Sambo and Mlle Nini, 125 Zahra bin Moulay Ali Kriti, 124 zallij (mosaics), 121 Zawiya (sufi lodges), 11 Zohra Maknassiya, 199 Zoubida bint el Boukili Houssine, 124

INDEX `Abd al-Aziz (Sultan of Morocco), 3-4, `Abd al-Jalil, Omar Ben, 63 `aboudia (a type of wool), 7 `adel (public notary), 49 `Akkari School, Rabat, 101-102 `aleuf (Fez embroidery style), 126 `arifa (headmistress), 104 `aroussas (brides) `Asria, ma`alma, 113 `atabi, (a type of wool), 49 `Attarine madrassa, 163 `ayd al-kebir (feast of sacrifice), 103 `Issawa, 56 "artistic sensibility," Moroccan, 198 "artistic" ingenuity, Moroccan163 "ateliers ouverts," 203; see also Open Workshops "bricolage," 197 "Humanity, Equality, and Fraternity," 74 "La mise en valeur," 72 "Les Meilleurs Travailleurs de l’Empire," 188 "machinisme," 154 "naïve" artist, 219, 235 "naïve" painting, 219-34 "native sector," 50; see also medina "the white man’s burden," 74 123rd escadron du train automobile, 194 âbatardissement, 160 Abdelouhab, Pasha, 104 Abu-Lughod, Janet, 28, and Islamic city, 28 Academic Fine Arts, 239 Academie, 137 Academy, 141 Active Method, 211 Adam, André, 224; colonial encounter, 224 Administration of Fine Arts, Historical Monuments, and Antiquities, 182 Adviser to the Moroccan Charifian Government, 66 Advisory Committee, 98, 101-102 aesthetic appreciation, 148 Africa, 27, 76 Afrique Française, 34 Agronomic Research Centre, Rabat, 216 Aicha bent Lalla Rqiya (Aicha Sarghiniya), 199 Aicha bint Mohamed Gharnit, 124 Ain-Sbaa, 212, Alaoui, Brahim, 8 Alaouis (Dynasty), 33 Algeciras conference, 1906, 3 Algeria, 3, 5-6, 34, 59, 66, 68, 76, 80, 187; "evolués" of, 35; assimilation into France, 35; conquest of, 34, 36; crafts, 34; missionary education in, 76; Oeuvre d’Artisanat, 35; Christianise, 76; vocational schools, 35 Algiers, Archbishop of, 76; Madrassa, 35; museum, 35 Alienation, colonial, 224 America, 34, 136, 139; see also United States Amin (pl. Amins; head of the guild), 6, 41, 43, 49- 51, 54, 56, 58, 65 Ammor, Mrs., 128

271

amusement de l’esprit, of Moroccan craftsmen, 163 Andalusia, 27, 160; of Africa, 27 Antar and Abla, 207 arabesque, 11, 31, 163, 190 Arabian Peninsula, 30, 48 Arabic, Moroccan, 220-21 Archives of the General Administration of Public Education, 196 Arnheim, Rudolf, 11 Arnous, M., 140 art and artisanat, 44; see also art and craft, craft art and craft, 137, 157, 246; architecture-related, 144; and industry, 135-36; and industry in Belgium, 139; character of French, 135; definition, 135; definition of Moroccan, 197, 229, training in France, 151 Art History, 12, 214 Art, and patriotism in France, 153; piracy, 140; decorative, 150; French industry-related to, 152; French, 155, 238; modern French art, 235; Moroccan, 245; Western, 235; Western medium, 244 Arthus-Perrelet, Mrs., 210; Le dessin au service de l’education, 210 Artistic, instincts, 16; sensibility, 243; taste and race in France, 31 Asia, 137, 139 Asilah, 234 assimilation, 73; colonial, 190, 228; of Slawi women, 109 Association of Commerce and Industry for Trade Education, 79 Association of French painters, 222 Atlantic Ocean, 49 Aubusson, 157 Austria, 68, 136, 137, 138, 153; drawing education, 138 authenticity, Moroccan cultural, 232; of Moroccan crafts, 168-69 Azema, Jacques, 242; "bad taste," 243; "le bon et le mauvais," 242; on identity, 243; Western art, 243 Azilal, 230 Baghdad, 234 Balafrej, Ahmed, 63 balgha, (shoes), 103 Balli, Mme., 131, 99 Bardo Museum, Tunis, Tunisia, 35 Barr, Patricia, 203 barrad (teapot), 121 bastardised style, Moroccan, 186 Bauhaus, 239 Baylkoc, Desiré, 105 Bazet, Renée, 17, 29, 102, 107, 110, 121-22, 131 bazzars, 187 Beaumetz, M., 153 beauty,148, 156; Ideal Beauty, 147 Beaux-Arts Administration, French, 153-54 Beirut, 200-01 Beirut, Lebanese National School of Trade and

272

ART IN THE SERVICE OF COLONIALISM

Craft, 200 Bel, A., 107, 110, 122-27, 131 Belgium, 68, 80, 136, 138-40; academic art reforms, 139; art, craft, and industry, 139; new designs, 139; patriotism, 139 Belkahia, Farid, 9, 235-39, 242, 245; attack on Western art, 236; "moroccanity," 238; cultural "melange," 238; decolonising Moroccan art, 11; messianic opposition, 236; Moroccan art, 236; Moroccan identity, 236; social role of artists and status, 238; Western culture, 236 Ben Gnaoui, ma`alma, 119 Ben Mansour, Abd al-Ouahhab, 231 Benabdallah, Omar Amine, 230 Beni Mellal, 34 Bennani, Abdelhadi, 163, 165, 189 Berber, 27, 30-31, 49, 231, 238, 244 Berchid, 212, Berque, Jacques, 27; on amin, 41; on guilds, 57; on medinas, 57, monitoring the guilds from within, 58; Moroccan Arab and Berber crafts, 32; on Moroccan architecture, 32; on Moroccan crafts, 44; on Moroccan craftsmen, 45; on structure of guilds, 38-39 Bipictorialists, 243-44, 246; and bilingualism, 245; as cultural mediators, 244 Birmingham, 140 Birth of Modern Moroccan Art, 239 Blanc, General A., 64 bled al-Makhzen, 5-6; bled al-Siba, 5-6; Boime, Albert, 141 Bontemps, M., 140 Bordeaux, 187 Boston, 187 Bou, Regreg River, 48-49 Bou`naniya, madrassa, 163 Boudnib, 61 Bouillot, Louise, 107, 110-13, 114, 116, 119, 131; concept of "antique," 110; "evolution and not revolution," 108; mission, 108-109; slogan, 108 Boukous, Mohamed, 230 Bourgeois, M. 27 Bourry, M., 173 Brindeau, Edouard, 12, 222-23 Britain, 166, 138; "art piracy," 140; "industrial war," against France, 140; art curriculum, 140; Department of Applied Arts, 140; drawing in, 140; Empire program, 22; House of Commons, 140; new paradigm of colonialism, 140; Parliament, 140; Trade Council, 140; Brodbeck, Miss, 124-125 Brodskis, Jacqueline, 18, 203-04, 216, 242-43; "a new eye," 217; "avant-garde painting," 217; "good" painting, 217; "high" art, 217; "Madame le Protectorat," 219; "moral obligation," 216; abstraction, 217; art history, 217; French painting, 217-18; French Visual culture, 217; and Moroccan autodidact painters, 218; on Moroccan society, 220

Brodskis, Youra, 216 Brown, Kenneth, 36, 46; àm jabun, 63; "noble" crafts, 46; guilds in Salé, 57 Brunot, Louis, 81, 95, 98-99, 118, 127-29, 173, 196-97, 199-200; on the French language, 81; on Moroccan crafts and craftsmen, 198 Bulletin de l’enseignement public au Maroc, 34, 176-77 Bureau of Foreign Affairs, 190 Bureau of political Affairs, 85 Bureau of Regional Information, 48 Byzantium, 139 Cabanel, Alexandre, 146, 152 Cabinet d’Archives, 193 Cabinet de Dessin, 184 Cambrai, 157 Carnet d’Apprentissage, 82 Casablanca Group, 9, 239-241; and art and crafts, 241 Casablanca House of Native Crafts, 66 Casablanca medina, 104, 222 Casablanca School of Fine Arts, 17, 204, 206, 239, 245; curriculum, 223; see also École des Beaux-Arts, Casablanca Casablanca ville nouvelle, 87-88, 104-105, 224 Casablanca, 2, 4, 6, 34, 61, 64, 78, 87, 100, 104,123-24, 128, 157, 194, 199, 212, 221, 224, 240; charitable society, 103; Darb Sidna, 104; Madiouna Avenue, 104 Casablanca, École des Beaux-Arts 17, 204, 206, 239, 245; see also Casablanca School of Fine Arts Casablanca, Ferme Blanche, 81, 104, 176 Casablanca, industrial city, 223 Casablanca, Lyautey High School, 222 Casbah (an old district or fortress in the medina), 221 Casbah vocational school, 87-88, 102 Central Cooperative of Crafts and Trades, 81 Central Europe, 37 Central School of Drawing, London, 140 Centre Marocain pour la Recherche Esthéthique et Philosophique, Marrakesh, 9 Cha`bana (commemoration of the martyrdom of Imam Houssine), 119 Chabaa, Mohamed, 9, 239, 242, 9 Chailley, Joseph, 72; on inequality, 74 Chamber of Commerce, 64 Chambers of Commerce and Agriculture, 82 Channel, the, 139 Charitable Society, Casablanca,103 Charronage (documentary film), 174-76 Chenail, M., 172-73; "rational" teaching manner, 173 Cherkaoui, Ahmed, 9, 244 Chichaoua, 128 China, 12, Choissy, 140 Civil Control Bureau, 82 Civil Controller, 99, 129, 218 Colliez, André, 4, 79

INDEX Colonial Convention of 1889, 75 Colonial, cultural episteme, 238; discourse, 120, 131, 227; French, 68; doctrine, 221; experience, 246; French machinery, 33; hegemony, 77, 130; hierarchy, 15; ideology, 19, 54, 77, 194; mass education, 79; methods of, 72; plans, 188; politics of domination, 228; rule, 221; visual culture, 21; see also colonialism Colonialism, 14, 244; "association," 74; "domination," 74; "emancipation," 74; "evolution and not revolution," 108; "informal," 14; "moderate," 75; "modern craftsmen," 93, "native system," 53; "new art" of, 72; "peaceful colonisation," 47, 68; "the white man’s burden," 74; agenda, 20, 79; and "man of colour," 75; and slavery, 72; and social integration, 75; as humanitarian assistance, 106-107; assimilation, 73; assimilationists, 75; see also assimilation; Britain’s new paradigm of, 140; civilising mission, 165; agenda, 20; culture, 120; education theory, 77; French cause, 105, 108; French conquest of Morocco, 53; French plans, 231; French political agenda, 54; humanitarian purpose of, 118; Moroccan cause, 178; of generosity, 74; of humanitarianism, 74; physical contact, 76; power, 224; program of, 47; racial segregation, 52; technique of civic vigour, 14; tempéré, 75; theoreticians of, 74, 76, 91; see also colonial Commerce Bureau, 66 Committee of Commerce and Industry, 82 Committee of Economic Studies, 87, 89, 100 Committee of Public Safety of the French Revolutions, 72 Conférence économique Impériale, Paris, 1935, 28 Congrès des Arts Plastiques, Damascus, 232 Counord, Mrs., 128 Courrière, T., Warrant, 91, 94-96 Craft Committee, 65, 67 Craft Fund, 64 Craft museums, 60, 182, 186 Craft Office, 98, 230 Craft Trading Post, 191 crafts, 59, 68, 72, 88, 93, 98; "artistic," 62; "artistic" characteristics of women’s, 111; "authentic" artefacts and replicas, 60- 61, 229; authentification of Moroccan 182; "authentic" models, 165; "authentic" Moroccan, 184, 227, 242; "degenerate" Moroccan, 227; "High," 44; "indigenise," 160; "instincts" of Moroccans craftsmen, 198; "Low," 44; "luxurious," 46; "moderate crafts," 46; "new authenticity," 62; "noble," 44, 46; 48, 65; "picturesque features," 116; "revolting," 44, 46; aesthetics of, 62; aesthetics of women’s, 111; and French colonial agenda, 46; Arab and Berber, 30- 31; definitions, 228; definition of Moroccan, 178; economy and women’s, 111; education, 89; European, 223; female, 30, 32, 108, 120, 126, 174; French definitions of Moroccan, 46; gender segregation, 228; graphic documentation,

273

62; heritage, Moroccan, 184; industry-related, 204; and modern life, 155; models, 184-85; Moroccan "artefact types," 191; Moroccan "modern" crafts, 190; Moroccan architecture and, 32; Moroccan crafts and Western art, 121; Moroccan scholarship on, 229; patron saints of, 120; pedagogy, 68; reforms of, 36; prototypes, Moroccan, 186; urban and rural, 29-31, 68; visual categorisation of Moroccan, 182; and visual tradition, 245; see also craftsmen, guilds craftsmen, 63, 65, 67, 82, 85, 87, 103; "heroic stature" of, 62; as vital social class, 68; Austrian, 138; French, 137, 140, 145, 157; French metropolitan, 81; high originality of Moroccan 190; incompatibility with modern business, 66; see also crafts, guilds creativity, 162, see also art Crystal Palace International Exhibition, London,135-136, 143 Cubism, 243 Cultural Festival in Asilah, 234 curriculum, 85, 91, 99, 135, 194, 201; "absolute rules," 141; flexible, 99; modern, 131; vocational, 191 Czechoslovakia, 80 Da Vinci, Leonardo, 148 Dahir (law), April 8, 1917, 50, 52-53; Berber, 63, 130, 190, 200; May 22, 1919, 184; May 1937 Damascus, 232 Dar `Adiyal, 122; 124; 128; craft training at, 125126 Dar`a, 80 Darwin, Charles, 73 Daumier, Honoré, 170 David, Jaques Louis, 150 De Avonde, M., 54 De Boisbaudran, Horace Lecoq, 158, 170, 172, 210; and memory drawing, 158, 170 De Laborde, Léon, 135-41, 43, 155; and Crystal Palace International Exhibition, 135 De Lunel, Tranchant, 161; definition of fine artists, 161 De Nazière, M., 58-59; reforms of technicalities, 58; two types of guilds, 58 De Robespierre, Maximilien, 72 De Staël, Nicolas, 8 De Tarde, Alfred, 163, 168; and Style, 163 Déclassés, colonial, 77; in France, 72, 142; in Morocco, 91 decolonisation, 21, 244, 246 découpage, 124 Delacroix, Eugène, 8 Delaroche, Paul, 150 Delmas-Fort, M., 32, 38, 68; on Moroccan Arab and Berber crafts, 32; Demnate, 212 Denmark, 137 Department of Fine Arts, Historical Monuments, and Antiquities, 161 Department stores, 187 Discourse, French colonial, 227

274

ART IN THE SERVICE OF COLONIALISM

divan (couch), 123 Doghmi, Larbi, 206 Douar Roussia, Rabat, 206 Doukkali, Bou Cha_b, 100 Doyle, Michael W., "formal" and "informal" imperial rule, 5 Drawing curriculum, in the Protectorate, 20, 142, 159-160, 168, 170; in France, 143-44, 146, 148, 153 Drawing, 60, 81, 93, 98, 104-105, 141, 151, 196-98, 222; and anatomy, 150; and descriptive geometry, 145; and dexterity, 160; and geometric representation, 168; and geometry, 150, and grammar, 151; and graphic models, 150; and language, 148; and lettering and writing, 171; and mathematics, 150; and memory visualising, 161,172; and perspective, 145, 148; and photography, 152; and reading, 145; and tracing, 176; and writing, 144, 147; as science of measuring, 172; as universal language, 158; as visual communication, 206; decorative, 143, 145, 150; descriptive, 147; French definition of, 146; from memory and graphic models, 171; from memory, 158, 171, 210; geometric drawing vs. fine arts, 146; geometric, 81, 145-48, 150; graphic representation, 81; in Britain, 140; in French high schools, 143; industrial, 150; inventories, 61; lessons, 95; life, 146-147; linear tracing, 145; models in France, 143; program in France, 142; the human figure, 143-, 150; universal principles of geometry, 170 Drissi, Moulay Ahmed, 234 Dumas, Paul, 76 Dumax, Miss, 128 Dup, Charles, 148 dwali (vine leaves), 121 École des Beaux-Arts, Casablanca, 206 École des Beaux-Arts, Paris, 141, 152, 216 École Nationale de Dessin et de Mathématique, Paris, 150-51 École Royale et Spéciale du Dessin (École des Art Décoratifs), Paris, 170 École Supérieure des Beaux-Arts, 17, 148, 158 Écoles Supérieure des Beaux-Arts, France, 224 Economic Affairs Bureau, 65-66 Education, inspector, 89, 94; colonial mass, 91; colonial theory, 77; English system, 75; FrancoMoroccan, 130; French modern, 143; French vocational, 146; in France, 72; mass, 78- 79; missionary education in Algeria, 76 Egypt, 48, 136, 150, 243; art of, 139 El Jedida, see Mazagan El Maleh, Edmond Amran,11, 238 Empire, British, 22, 203; British women and, 203; European, 135; French, 6, 74, 188; Roman, 27-73 England, 153, 187 Equality, of races, 72 Essaouira, 60, see Mogador Europe, 12, 36, 59, 108, 137, 137, 160, 218, 231 European Low Countries, 68

Exhibitions, see Fairs Expositions, see Fairs Fairs, "Exposition of Moroccan crafts," Paris Museum of Decorative Arts, 61 Fairs, 1915 Casablanca Franco-Moroccan Exposition, 100, 59-60, 187 Fairs, 1916 Fez September-October Fair, 60, 66 Fairs, 1917 Rabat Moroccan, 61 Fairs, 1922 Marseille Colonial Exposition, 187 Fairs, 1924 Strasbourg Exhibition, 187 Fairs, 1925 Paris Exposition of Decorative Arts, 156, 187 Fairs, 1931 Paris International Exposition, 66 Fairs, 1937 Èxposition des Art Décoratifs, Paris, 156 Fairs, 1939 Paris Fifth Exposition du Travail, 188 Fairs, Colonial Exhibitions, 187, 222 Fairs, Exhibitions, 182 Fairs, Fair Committee, 64 Fairs, Grenoble Tourism Exposition, 187 Fairs, International, 47, 64 Fairs, itinerant exhibitions, 212 Fairs, London Crystal Palace International Exhibition, 135, 143 Fairs, permanent and temporary exhibitions, 186 Fairs, Regional Exhibitions, 128 Falaqa (beating on the soles of the feet with a stick), 43 Fantin-Latour, Henri, 170 Farouj, Fatima el-., 218, 234 Farouj, Hassan el-., 218, 234 Fassi (from Fez), 37, 93-94, 123, 125-26 Fassi, Abdeslam Ben Larbi al-., 12, 222 Fassi, Allal al-, 63 Fassi, Mohamed al-, 63 Fassi, women, 122, 125 Fathémy, el-., birth of modern Moroccan art, 8 Fatma bint Driss Abdeljelil, 124 Fedala (now Mohammedia), 6, 128, 223 Fédération des Sociétés Françaises de Propagande et d’Enseignement Artistique et Technique, 156 Ferme Blanche, 81, 104, 176 Fez Jdid, school, 128; vocational school, 130-31 Fez medina, 65, 123, 124, 196 Fez, 2, 34, 36, 38, 48, 50, 55, 60-62, 64-65, 78, 89, 96,123, 124, 130, 131, 157, 159, 163, 186, 186, 190, 199, 204, 212; 1918 fire, 53; Fez Jdid, 38, 91, 93, 124-25; guilds, 64; medina, 65, 123, 124, 196; ville nouvelle, 91, 96, 126; Lamtiyine Franco-Arab school, Fez, 124; Moulay Idriss High School, Fez, 130, vocational school, 105 Finances Administration, 66 Finatau, Marcel, 102, 194 Fine Arts Services, Marrakesh, 159 fine arts, 4,141, 147 Fine Arts, Academic, 239 Fine arts, workshops, 239 First Biennial of Arab artists, Baghdad, 234 Five Loan Banks, 66 Flushy, M., 105-6

INDEX Foreign Office, 216 Foucault, Michel, 40, 95, 100; "disciplinary careers," 15 fqih (female instructor of the Koran), 125 fqiha (male instructor of the Koran), 125-28 France, 3, 5-7, 27, 35- 36, 54, 59, 66, 68, 72-73, 80, 135, 136, 137, 139, 141, 157, 159, 165, 168, 187, 210, 216, 244; "artistic reputation," 153; "Bloody Week," 142;"grandeur," of, 153; "high taste," 152; "mother country," 246; "national artistic heritage," 152; "patriotic mission" of art, 154; art culture, 225; art education, 21; artistic prestige, 155; Beaux-Arts Administration, 153-54; Beaux-Arts High Council, 151; colonial program, 21; colonies, 188; the Commune, 141-43; craftsmen, 145, 48,150; drawing curriculum, 142, 144; FrancoPrussian war, 141-43; labour unions, 144; Ministry of Public Education, 142, 151-52; National Archives in Paris, 146; national industries, 142-43; national taste, 156-57; reforms of art education, 154; reforms of vocational schools, 145; schools, 71; schools of Fine Arts and Decorative Arts, 154; social malaise, 155; trade activities with the Protectorate, 6-7; urban grammar schools, 144; visual culture, 20, vocational school reforms, 142; vocational schools, 146, 151, 154; vocational training, 148; West African colonies, 68 France-Maroc, 34 Franco-Arab schools, 14, 19, 91 Franco-Jewish school, 72 French colonies, vocational education, 77 Funduq (shelter), 37, 43, 104 Gabriel-Rousseau, M., 169-70, 172, 222 Garde Noire (Moroccan army), 48 Gauls, 73 Geertz, Clifford, 61 General Administration of Public Education, 1416, 20, 60, 72, 78, 80, 81-82, 85, 87, 91, 95, 98-99, 101-102, 104-105, 107, 108, 111, 11617, 122, 125-26, 152, 159-60, 165, 168, 170, 173-74, 176, 178-79, 190-91, 193-94, 196-98, 200, 203-04, 209, 211, 214, 218 General Inspector of Grammar Education, 199 General Inspector of Public Education, 128 General Inspector of the Native Education Bureau, 81, 95, 173, 196-97 General Inspector of Vocational Education and Drawing, 169 General Secretariat of the Moroccan Charifian Government, 79, 123 Germany, 139, 153, 154, 68 Gewerbinstituts, 137 Gharbaoui, Jilali, 9, 244 Gillet, G., 79, 82 Glaoui, Hassan el., 234 Gotteland, Jean, 131, 200-01, 216, 218, 221 Goum (Moroccan soldiers), 66 grace, 148, see also art, beauty Grammar Franco-Arab School, Fez, 163

275

Grand Vizier, 58, 100, 102, 104, 204; see also Mohamed al-Moqri graphic models, 151, 153, 158, 230; and memory drawing, 171; and photography, 152; learning style from, 151; see also drawing Great Britain, 139 Greece, 12, 139, 162 Grenoble, 157 Gros, Baron, 150 Gruner, Roger, 203 Gruner, Simone, 204, 207, 216-118, 220, 242; on "art," 210-14; "soupage," 207; and "a Moroccan Matisse," 207; "natural" artistic talent of Moroccans, 214; and Active Method, 211; on art history, 214; on imagination, 211; and memory drawing, 210; on natural skills, 210; on perception, 211; on spontaneity, 206, 210; on visual culture, 208; itinerant exhibitions, 212; My Mother exhibition, Tokyo, 214; pedagogy, 210; teaching method, 207-11; "turtle dove" assignment, 210 Guabbas, M., Grand Vizier, 100 Guérin, Marcel, 150 Guilds, 1, 28-29, 34, 41, 43, 47, 50, 65, 67, 68; "new vitality," 52; and Moroccan economy, 58; and social harmony, 37; and the "native sector," 47; apprenticeship in craft workshops, 40; as loose organisations 19; as shield against nationalists, 64; as social institutions, 51; backbone of medina’s economy, 55; categories of, 37; common mentality of craftsmen, 57; competition between craftsmen, 38; control of, 48; customary laws of, 57; duty of master craftsmen, 39; examination, 41; Fekharrine, 55; Fez, 64; foreign craftsmen, 52; French craft inspector, 52; Haddadine, 55; infiltration of, 18; membership, 38; merchants, 64; Moroccan Arab craftsmen, 30; Moroccan Jewish craftsmen, 52; Muslim and Jewish craftsmen, 38; Muslim, 52; Nejjarine, 55; old structures of, 52; patron saints of, 39; psychology and morality of craftsmen, 39; public harmony, 39; reforms, 7, 16, 47, 49, 228; religious groups, 38; shopkeepers, 58; socialisation of craftsmen, 57; solidarity among craftsmen, 29; trade unionism 59; traders, 58; traditional tenets of, 29; Weberian qualities of, 57 Guillaume, Eugène, 148, 150; on aesthetic appreciation, 148; on balance, symmetry, and harmony, 148 Guyot, Jeanne, 221 Guyot, René, 221 Habous (pious foundations), 4, Hafid, Moulay (Sultan of Morocco), 4 Hainaut, J. 27, 32; on Moroccan architecture, 32 Hamadsha, 56 Hammamat Conference, Tunisia, 234 Hammams (public baths), 43 Hanbal (carpet-blanket), 117 Hardy, George, 15, 27, 31, 51, 101, 118, 191, 194, 222; 1920 reforms plan of, 52-53; draft,

276

ART IN THE SERVICE OF COLONIALISM

58; gentle way of control, 51; on guilds, 57-50 harmony and the contrast of colours, 169 haska (candlestick), 121 Hassan I, Moulay al-, (Moroccan Sultan), 93 Hassani, Abderrahman ben Kacem elhayani, el-., 199 Haut, Mme, 128 hegemony, 14, 77; colonial, 4, 130; French, 5; French colonial visual culture, 229; French cultural, 15, 225; see also colonialism heritage, Arab and Islamic cultural, 231; see also Moroccan heritage heritage, Moroccan, 229 Herriot, Edouard, 74, 155 Hespéris, 34, 230 high art, 217; see also art High Atlas, 60 Hokusai, Katsushika, 170 Holland, 66 Houz, 60 Huot, Lieutenant Colonel, 52, 54 hybrid aesthetics, 243 hygiene, 97, 116, 97 identity, and authenticity, 246; and nationalistic art, 246; Arab, 231; Moroccan national, 232, 234, 244-45; Moroccan self, 245; national visual, 244; see also, Farid Belkahia; Jacques Azema Ideology, 204; colonial, 204, 228; metropolitan ideology, 246 Idhar al-Haq, newspaper, 101 Impressionism, 243 India, 12, 22, 73, 75, 203 Inequality, 74 Ingres, J. B. D., 150 Inspection Offices of the Native Craft Industry, 60-64 instinct and Moroccan craftsmen, 162; see also art, craftsmen Institut de Recherche et de Coordination Artistique et Technique, 156 Institut du Monde Arabe, Paris, 8; Iraq, 243 Islam, 5; laws and women, 118 Ismail, Othman Othman, 230; "historical clash" between Moroccans and the French, 231; critique of Western scholars, 231 Isnad, 28 Italy, 62, 139, 153, 187-88, 62 Ja`i, M. al-, 100 Jacquard mechanical weaving system, 35 jallaba (man’s hooded cloak), 66, 103 Jamaa al-Fana, 12, 223, 242; see also Marrakesh Japan, 214 Joint Chamber of Commerce and Agriculture, 97 Julien, Charles-André, 47, 224; "prospero," 221; "cultural greenhouse," 6; "nominal" colony, 4; critique of colonialism, 225; on community of "whites" in Morocco, 221; on European colonists, 221; on the "petit blancs," 221 Kacimi, Mohamed, 218 Kandinsky, Wassili, 9

Katan, Yvette, 162; colonial education, 18 Kayraouani, Ali el, 105 Kenitra, 223 Khalifa (pl. Khalifas, deputy), 41 khamsa (talisman), 121 Khatibi, Abdelkebir, 8, 234, 245 Khattabi, Abdelkrim, al., 4; rebellion, 4; see also Rif kholkhal (ankle bracelet), 121 Khouribga, 78 kissan (teacup), 121 Klee, Paul, 8-9, Koran, 28, 128 Ksar Souq, 212 L’Afrique Française, 6, 222 La Collection du Ministère, Paris, 152 La Kasbah association 222 Labbé, Edmond, 154, 156 Labdaoui, Abdellah, 244 Labied, Miloud 218 Lamtiyine Franco-Arab school, Fez, 124 Language, French, 78 Laprade, Albert, 157 Larache, 49 Latin America, 12 Lavigerie, Father, 76, orphans of, 76 Le Bon, Gustave, 73; and Darwin’s evolutionary principles, 73, 77 Le dessin au service de l’éducation, 210 Le Glay, Maurice, 33 Le Musée Pédagogique du Maroc, 191, 193-94 Le nouveau corpus des tapis marocains, 230 Le Soir Marocain, newspaper, 198 Le Toureau, Roger, 27, 32, 47, 160; "aristocracie artisanale," 45; "Fassi citizenship," 45; on the Makina, 94; on Fassi craftsmen, 56; "patriotism of a new style," 63; on art, 44; labour in the Pre-protectorate, 38; on Moroccan craftsmen, art, and beauty, 45; on muhtassib, 42 Lebanon, 188 Leo Africanus, 32 Les arts appliqués, 222 Lewis, Reina, 18 Libya, 188 Lille, 157, 187 Limoge, 157 Lithography, 152 Loan Banks, 64, 67 London, 135; Central School of Drawing, 140; Metropolitan School of Practical Arts, 140; vocational schools, 140 Loth, Gaston, 78, 83, 100, 122, 129, 162 Louardighi, Ahmed, 219, 234-35; ideological intervention, 235; Mosquée marocaine (no 19), 235; and women, 235 Louvre, 137, antique collection, 152 Lyautey, Hubert, 4-6, 15, 28, 51, 52, 83, 96, 110, 123, 157, 187, 196, 222-23; "native policy" of, 33-, 34, 53, 59, 108; and education for Moroccans, 194; and prototype vocational schools, 101; divisive vision of, 29; education

INDEX for Moroccans, 72; experience in Algeria, 5; flexible ideology of, 34; French hegemony, 4; indirect rule of, 228; mobilisation of French scholars, 36; modernisation of Moroccan industries, 27; passive revolution, 4; peaceful colonisation of Morocco, 4; protecting the medinas, 33; reforms, 4; Lyautey, Madame, 125 Lyon, 35, 37, 157 ma`alam (pl. ma`alams; master craftsman), 41, 45, 67, 88-89-91, 93, 99, 104; ethics of, 67; see also craftsmen; guilds ma`alma (pl. ma`almat, female master and instructor of craft), 109-10, 112-114, 117-19, 122, 126-28, 176-79, 199, 230 Macon Auzerre, 157 Madrassa (pl. madrassas, school or university attached to a mosque), 32, 56, 93; Fez Jdid, 93 Mageard, Capitiane, 48 Maghreb Art, journal, 9 mahbaq (flower pot), 121 Maison Citroyen, 194 Maison de réunions des fillettes de la bourgeoisie [musulmane], 122-23, 125; "European room," 123-24; "Moroccan room,"124; teaching at, 124-125 Majliss (council), 97 Makhzen (Moroccan government), 3-4, 14, 19, 36, 41, 45, 47-50, 54, 56, 58, 65, 71-72, 80, 82, 94, 100, 106, 111, 114, 123, 125; calculated psychological order, 55; Moroccan Palace, 52, 63; politics of laissez-faire, 51; social order, 6-7 Makina Company, 95 Makina pilot workshop, 93, 95-98; as "beehive," 95; drawing and theoretical curricula, 196; moral task of, 96 Malaga, 62 Mamounia gallery, Rabat, 204 Manchester, 36- 37 Maraini, Toni, 9; 238; "Matisse’s grand-sons," 236; "the first Modern Moroccan artist," 222; and craftsmen, 38; crafts, art history, archaeology, anthropology, and ethnography, 12-13; gender classification of crafts, 13; Hegelian reading of stylistic development, 9 Marinid Dynasty, 163 Marion, Lieutenant, 109, 111, 113, 118 Maroquinery, 67, 79 Marrakesh medina, 43 Marrakesh, 2, 12, 34, 36-38, 43, 48, 60-61, 64, 78-79, 85, 87, 89, 91, 102, 157, 190, 199, 212, 223, 230, 242; Advisory Committee, 103; Committee for Economic Studies, 89; Fine Arts Services, 159; medina, 43; Native Crafts Service, 169; vocational school, 87, 105 Marseille, 187 Marty, Paul, 96-97 mashmoom (bouquet), 163 Massignon, Louis, 34 material culture, Moroccan, 230

277

Matisse, Henri, 8 Mayeur, Jean-Marie, 142, 144 Mazagan (now El Jedida), 34, 61, 64, 78, 105106, 128, 199 medina (pl. medinas; Moroccan walled cities) 1, 2, 6, 16, 27-28, 36-37, 43, 46-47, 49, 53, 58-59, 61, 68, 78, 85, 91, 94, 96, 98-99, 109-130, 177, 187, 188, 196-97, 203, 210; "ghettoised," 236; Arab, 31; attributes with villages, 42; aristocracy of, 46; division of labour within, 38; economy of, 51, 62, 67, 72, 106, 186, 228; craft workshops, 77, 80-81, 83, 87, 97, 239; Moroccan sector, 77; traditional industries, 81 Mekkah, 30 Meknes, 2, 34, 36-38, 60-62, 64, 78, 157, 182, 186, 190, 199, 212 Melihi, Mohamed, 9, 239, 241, 245 mellah (Moroccan Jewish quarter), 38, 49 Memmi, Albert, 236 metropole, 74, 76, 78, 80, 135 Metropolitan School of Practical Arts, London,140 Middle Ages, 145, 147 Middle Atlas, 60 Middle East, 30, 33, 188, 234 Midelt, 61 Military expedition to Casablanca, 221 Millet, Aimé, 151 Millet, Jean François, 170 Minister of French colonies, 75 Ministry of Craft and Social Affairs, Moroccan, 230 Ministry of Public Education, France, 151 Minton, 140 Missionary Franciscan Sisters, 182 Mogador (now Essaouira), 34, 37, 60-61, 78-79, 198, 199 Mohamed, the Prophet, 119, 128; "Mahomet," 76 Mohammedia, 212, see Fedala Mondrian, Piet, 9 Montagnac, M. 105-6 Moorish style, 183 Moqri, Grand Vizier Mohamed al-, 54-55, 59, 68, 102, 204; on guilds, 55; on Moroccan culture, 57; and trade unionism, 56; uniqueness of guilds, 58; opposes Hardy’s plan, 54-55; see also Grand Vizier Moqri, Taib al-., 104 Moravid (Moroccan dynasty), 33 Moroccan Charifian Export Bureau, 66 Moroccan Charifian General Secretariat, 48 Moroccan Charifian Government, 48 Moroccan Charifian Office of Export, 64-66 Moroccan Craft Bureau, 28 Moroccan Craft Trading Post, 66 Moroccan Trade Office in Paris, 187 Moroccan-Andalusian miniature, 12 Moulay Driss, 204, 212 Moulay Idriss High School, Fez, 130 Moulay Youssel High School, 102

278

ART IN THE SERVICE OF COLONIALISM

msids (Koranic schools), 89, 98, 111, 206-7, 203 muhtasib (pl. muhtasibs; market inspector), 6, 41, 43-44, 49-54, 57-58, 65, 191 muqaddam (neighbourhood chief), 42 Musée Pedagogique, Paris, 152 museums, 182-84, 194; of Ancient Crafts, 60; women schools, 127 Museums, Batha, Fez; Dar `Adiyal, Fez; Dar Jam`i, Meknes; Dar Si S`id, Marrakesh; Loudaia, Rabat, 182 Museums, the four, 186 Muslim High Schools, 72 My Mother exhibition, Tokyo, 214 Nadhir (Makhzen Administration Inspector), 119 Nancy, 157 National School of Trade and Craft, Beirut, 200 Nationalism, 238; Morocan,130-32; Moroccan nationalists, 63 Native Affair Bureau, 66 Native Craft Legislative Studies Bureau, 66 Native Crafts Service, 66, 165, 169, 182, 184-85, 188; (the Service of Native Trade and crafts), 190 Native Crafts Service, Marrakesh, 169 Nativists, 235, 239, 244-45 Neigel, M. 102 Neo-Salafists, 232 Neo-traditionalists, 232 New Medinas, 45 New York, 187 Nietzsche, Frederick, 155 Noguès, General, 64 North Africa, 3, 29-30, 33, 35, 73, 234 North African Muslim Students Association, 63 North America, 187-88 Noufissa bint Driss al-Amrani, 124 Nouvelle, Jacques, 218 Office of Craft Industry, 61 Office of Native Craft Industry, 61- 62 Office of Native Crafts, 65 Olmer, Pierre, 158 One Thousand and One Nights, 206 Open Workshops, 2, 7, 17-18, 168, 222, 242; pedagogical curricula, 21 ordre moral, 142, 146; see also Third Republic Orient, 231 Orientalism, 27, 131; European artists, 9; women, 18; colonial scholarship, 122; French originality, 135, 140-41, 219; and "French national taste," 139; and "primitiveness," 139; creativity, 136; artistic, 136; through imitation, 137, 141; threat to French, 136; through appropriation, 138-41; through observation, 139 Ouarzazate, 80, 212 Ouazzani, Hassan al-., 63 Oudaias Kasbah, 221 Oujda, 4, 18, 34, 61, 78, 128, 199, 212 Ouzzane, 212 Palermo, 62 Parcs Automobile Militaire, 194 Paris, 63, 123, 137, 137, 142, 157, 206

Parisian Trade Chamber, 153 Pasha, 41, 49-50, 102, 119, 124, 199; ex-pasha, 124 pastiche, 155 Paul, Marty, plan of, 96-97 Pectallozzi, M. 148 pedagogy, 99, 106, 135, 165, 172, 177, 196, 239; crafts, 68; pre-training, 176; principles in France, 150; vocational, 160, 229 Persia, 29 Phidias, 147 Pillet, M., 159-60 Pilot workshop, 91, 94-97, 196; see also Makina plurality of schools, 72 Poland, 80 Political Affair Bureau, 65 Populists, 234, 245 Postcolonial, 219, 238; Moroccan artists, 225 Post-impressionism, 243 Pour comprendre l’art musulman dans l’Afrique du Nord et en Espagne, 172-73 Pre-colonial, art practices, 238 Prefet de la Seine (the prefect of the Paris Commune), 152 Pre-protectorate, 111; pre-training division, 16568; pre-training in grammar schools, 98; Pre-protectorate, 16, 41, 71; cast system, 17; imperial cities, 38; social relief system, 64; system of payment, 129; vocational pedagogy, 160; women’s craft training, 110; craft workshops, 197 President of the French Senate, 74 Principal Chief Inspector of the Military Police, Rabat, 221 Prix de Rome, 146 propaganda, 35; among guilds, 54; and women’s schools, 118-28; in France, 156 Prost, Henri, 157 protégés, system of, 3 Prussia, 137 Qa`ida (Moroccan tradition), 39, 41, 44, 50, 55, 58, 67 Qadi (judge), 43, 119 Qaid (city chief), 41 qaissaria, (trade district; market)37 qronfal (flowers), 121 Rabat Biennial, 234 Rabat medina, 49, 120-121, 194, 222 Rabat, `Akkari School, 101 Rabat, 2, 6, 34, 37, 37- 38, 48-49, 52, 60-62, 6465, 78, 87, 119, 122-23t, 127-28, 157, 178-79, 182, 184, 186, 190-91, 199, 206, 210, 212, 214, 220-21, 234; Rabat, Bou Regreg River, 48; Exposition of, 66; Grand Mosque, 48; Okasha neighbourhood, 48, Radlani home, 121-22; Sidi Fatah Street, 121 Rabat-Salé, 36, 49, 60 Rabaud, Jean, 103, 105 Rabinow, Paul, 224; "Meddling Modernism," 224 rajlin ballaraj (legs of stork), 121 Raphael, 141, 143, 147

INDEX Ravaison, Felix, 146-47, 152; on "beauty," 148; on "grace," 148; on "Ideal Beauty," 147; and drawing curriculum, 147; and life drawing, 147; and the human figure, 148; Classiques de l’Art, 146 Rebérious, Madelaine, 153 Reforms, of 1920, 59, 61, of 1937-38, 64; of 1937-38, 67; as defence organism, 67; Belgium academic art reforms, 139; colonial, 188; craft, 107, 227; educational, 71, 78, 85, 203; French art, 157; French drawing, 143; French industrial, 142; Moroccan, 93; French art education, 154; guilds, 204; vocational schools in France, 145, 158; vocational training in France, 157; technicalities, 58 Regional Committees of Commerce and Industry, 80 Regional Education Inspector, 194, 199 Regional Grammar School Inspector, 179 Regional Inspector of Primary Education, 81 Regional Loan Banks, 190-91 Regional Saving and Credits Banks, 64 renaissance, Arab cultural, 231 Reserve Officer, 221 Residency Bureau of Native Affairs, 96 Resident General, 63- 65, 103 Revue d’enseignement colonial, 193 Revue du Monde Musulmane, 34 Ricard, Prosper, 27, 30, 36-37, 59-61, 184, 182, 188, 190, 222, 229; categorisation of Moroccan craftsmen, 29; corpus, 230; documentation, 61; in Tunisia, 35; on craft and industry, 28; on Moroccan architecture, 32; Pour comprendre l’art musulman dans l’Afrique du Nord et en Espagne, 172-73; systemised information, 61 Rif, 4, risorgimento artistique, 165, 168 Rivet, Daniel, 5, 18, 47; French "foreign logic" in Morocco, 54; on Jacqueline Brodskis, 220; on Lyautey; 5, 34; Roberspierre, Maximilien de, 72-73 Rodin, Auguste, 170 Rome, 139 Roumani, 204 roumis (Chrisian French), 91 roumiya (Christian woman), 113, 119 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 72-73 Russia, 136, 153 Sa`ada, al-., newspaper, 101 Saba` al-Miloud (commemoration of the birth of the Prophet Mohamed), 128-29 Safi, 61-62, 64, 79, 186, 199 Safrou, 78 Sahara, 4 Said, Edward W., 5; 244; "travelling theory," 244 Salé medina, 111-12, 116-17; workshops, 116 Salé, 34, 48, 52, 57, 78-79, 108, 118-19, 122, 126-27, 129-30, 182, 186, 199, 212, 221, 223; 230; Bab Houssine, 110-11; Dar ben `Attar, 111; Dar Moulay `Abbas Kartous, 111-14; Franco-Arab school, 110

279

Salmand, M. 95 Salon artists, 146 salon virus in France, 144 sansla dial tior (chain of birds), 121 Sarraut, Albert, 75, 77; on equality, 75 Saussure, Léopold de, 73, 76-77; and Gustave le Bon, 75, 77; and rationalisation of colonialism, 75 Scandinavian Countries, 187 School diploma, 97 School of Fine Arts, pedagogical curricula, 21 Schools, Rabat `Akkari Franco-Arab, 194; Casablanca Lyautey High, 222; École des Beaux-Arts, 141; École Supérieure des BeauxArts, Paris, 148; Ferme Blanche, Casablanca, 81, 104, 176; Fez Franco-Arab grammar and high, 98; for French women, Rabat, 117; for Moroccan notables, Casablanca, 172; FrancoMuslim grammar, 78; French urban grammar, 144; Grammar, 97; Lamtiyine Franco-Arab, 124; Lebanese National School of Trade and Craft, Beirut, 200; London Central School of Drawing, 140; Mogador vocational, 198; Moulay Driss High, 96, 130, 223; Moulay Youssef High, 102; of Decorative Art and Tapestry, Paris, 153; of Fine Arts, Casablanca, 2, 7, 9, 17, 20, 204, 222, 239-40, see also École des Beaux-Arts, Casablanca; of house management, Rabat, 221; Lycée Fémelon, Paris, 204; of Oriental Languages, Paris, 107; Collège des Orangers, Rabat, 204; rural grammar, 78; Marrakesh Sidi Bel `Abas vocational, 87-88, 102; Salé vocational, 221; Taza vocational, 198; Salé women’s vocational, 199; Rabat women’s vocational, 189 Sebti Brothers, 65 Sefrou, 34, 199 Senegal, 48, 66 Serghini, Mohamed, 9 Service of Youth and Sports, 2, 20, 98, 203, 207, 211-12; Department of Plastic Arts, 206, 216; Department of Popular Education, 2006; Division of Plastic Arts, 214; Theatre Association, 206 Sèvre, 137 shabak (embroidery style), 126 shabka (piece of lace work), 109 Sharif (pl. Shurfa; descendent of the Prophet Mohamed), 124 Shurfa, 43; see Sharif Sidi Bel `Abas vocational school, 87-88, 102 Sidi Ghalam, 212 Sisters of the missionary organisation of NotreDame of Africa, 35 Skhirat, 212 Slawi (from Salé), 108-110, 119; artefacts, 109; women, 129 Slimana, ma`alma, 110-11, 113-14, 116, 127; teaching method, 111-113; workshop, 114 Soldat du Tabor (Moroccan army), 48 Sophocles, 147

280

ART IN THE SERVICE OF COLONIALISM

Soulé, Miss, 128 souq (market), 177 Souret, amin Abdallah, 43 South America, 187-88 Spain, 3-4, 27, 33, 49, 56, 62-63, 137, 139, 153, 187 spontaneity, 235; see also art St. Etienne, 157 Steeg, Mme., 199 Steeg, Theodore, 199 strambiya (cushion), 121 style, 151; in Moroccan crafts, 163; Moroccan, 123; vs. "intuition," 165; see also art, craft, craftsmen Sunnah (tradition, conduct, and saying of the Prophet Mohamed), 28 supremacy, of French art, 140; of French design, 141; see also art surveillance, 114, 182 Sweden, 137, 68 Syria, 29, 188 Tabault, Roger, 204, 223 Taleb (student of religious science), 49 Tangier, 49, 61, 68, 78, 186, 212 Taroundant, 78 taste, 147; French, 136; see also art Taza, 34, 61, 78, 199, 212, 230 Terrasse, Henri, 27, 30, 32, 45; taste and race, 31 Tetouan, 49 Tharaud brothers, 36 Tharaud, Jean, 66 Tharaud, Jérôme, 66 Third Republic, 142-43, 146, 153; see also "ordre moral" Thompson, Ernest P., 16; "timed labour," 16; "time-thrift," 16 Thor, 155 Tokyo, 214, 216 Trade and Industry Bureau, 53 Trade unions, 56 Tranchant De Lunel, Maurice, 222 Treaty of Fez, 4 Tunisia, 3, 5, 22, 34-35, 66, 68, 81, 108, 160, 187, 234; Institute of Arts and Crafts, 35; museum, 35; Regency, 35; Vocational schools for women, 35 Turner, Joseph Mallord William, 170 Ulama (scholars of the Islamic religion), 56 UNESCO, 214 United States, 9, 68, 138, 140; "artistic nation," 138; "industrial nation," 138; art as know-how, 139; National Institution for the Promotion of Science and Arts, 138; originality, 138; see also America utilitarian art, 141, 156; objects, 155 Valencia, 62 Valenciennes, 157 Vernet, Horace, 170 Versailles Treaty, 154 Vieux marocains (senior colonists and early settlers), 178, 220-21 Vigno, M., 95

ville nouvelle (pl. villes nouvelles, European settlements), 1, 2, 17, 45, 48, 79-80, 91, 204, 210, 157 Virgil, 147 Visual, culture, 243; Moroccan, 136, 232, 239; heritage, Moroccan, 182; training in France, 150; vocational education, pre-training, 78 vocational schools, and promiscuity, 99; as "green houses," 90; as means of exploitation, 85; as moral obligation, 87; assimilating Moroccans, 19; curriculum, 78, 229; drawing curriculum, 20; economic and moral role of, 19; enrolment, 78; teaching methods, 16; vocational schools, French methods, 78; in France, 151; mission of, 229; mobilising the Moroccan feminine milieu, 20; modern techniques, 85; prototype, 20, 101; reforms in France, 142; role of, 79; statistic graphs, 100; system, 99; teaching methods, 127; teaching program, 229; theoretical curriculum, 81 vocational training, 81, 89, 95, 97, 200; Belgium, 139; Dar `Adiyal, 125-126; France, 135, 148, 153, 155; Maison, 124-125; Makina, 94; Preprotectorate women’s craft, 110; symbolic value of, 89; technical formation, 102; theoretical, 200; women craft schools, 116, 118; Wassiti Festival, Baghdad, al-., 234 Wesson, Robert G., 15, 22 West, 162, 238, 242; art history, 32; artistic formulas, 168; colonial past, 244; Modern Art, 239; vs. Third World, 236, 238 Western Art, 11, 28, 30, 217, 234, 243, 245, ; as superior to Moroccan crafts, 31; pictorial elements, 234-35; vs. Moroccan crafts, 18 Whistler, James, 170 William I of Wúrttemgerg, King, 137 Workshops, 87, 97 Wright, Gwendolyn, 21 Young Sambo and Mlle Nini, 125 Zahra bin Moulay Ali Kriti, 124 zallij (mosaics), 121 Zawiya (sufi lodges), 11 Zohra Maknassiya, 199 Zoubida bint el Boukili Houssine, 124