Ali Sidqi Azaykou: The Little-Known Intellectual

Is Ali Sidqi Azaykou truly an obscure thinker? Is he not, in fact, an illustrious figure whose reputation extends far beyond national borders? He is widely known as the Amazigh activist whose commitment led to a year in prison in 1982, charged with endangering state security. This is indeed how he is remembered. Yet, it is precisely for this reason that he remains, fundamentally, an “illustrious stranger”: we remain almost entirely ignorant of the actual work and the profound philosophical contributions of Professor Ali Sidqi Azaykou.

I myself was once content with this superficial “knowledge” of the man, until I recently read a series of his articles and research papers. These texts were collected and published by the Tariq ibn Ziyad Center in a volume titled The History of Morocco or Possible Interpretations, as well as in another collection, Intellectual Battles Around Amazigh Identity. It was then that I realized the extent of my ignorance regarding him. This lack of knowledge seems to be shared by the majority of those interested in Amazigh issues; in almost everything written about Ali Sidqi Azaykou, writers generally settle for reminding us that he was the first prisoner of the Amazigh cause in Moroccan history.

By asserting that Azaykou is a little-known thinker, I am highlighting the fact that, having failed to read his writings, we are totally unaware of the intellectual and philosophical scope of his analyses. We are unfamiliar with his methodology and the impact of his thought on the formation of the modern Amazigh consciousness. This exceptional value lies primarily in two fundamental points. First, Azaykou addressed questions related to Moroccan culture, identity, language, and history long before they were timidly raised in the 1990s. He analyzed these issues and provided clear, explicit answers more than a third of a century ago, beginning in the late 1960s through his articles in the newspaper Sawt al-Janub (1968).

He continued this work in the early 1970s (1971) in the journal Al-Kalima (The Word), notably in his responses to Ahmed El Fahsi. One text stands out in particular: “When our history is scorned and our dignity trampled,” published in the fourth issue of the aforementioned journal in May 1972. Through his analyses, themes, and innovative methodology, Azaykou was ahead of his time—as is the case with any great thinker or exceptional creator. He far preceded the Amazigh movement and discourse as they would eventually be structured. Perhaps it is this very lead over his era that partly explains why he has remained largely forgotten and misunderstood.

Secondly, Ali Sidqi Azaykou laid the foundations for what can be called “Amazigh thought.” If he raised unprecedented problems using a new approach, it was because he established an intellectual framework based on a vision, concepts, and a method of analysis orbiting the pole of Amazigh identity. While the Amazigh movement sought to establish a distinct school of thought through its discourse in the 1990s, Azaykou had already done so by the late 1960s. His writings are distinguished, in both substance and form, from almost everything previously produced regarding the language, culture, identity, and history of Morocco. It is this singularity that grants his work the status of “Amazigh thought,” in the same way one speaks of “French thought,” “Chinese thought,” or “Arab thought.” Within it, one finds a unique worldview and specific concepts that provide his work with its singular intellectual identity.

Ali Azayku’s inauguration of this singular Amazigh philosophy explains why Morocco’s Arabist regime sentenced him to a year in prison on charges of “undermining state security.” Contrary to what some have written, this accusation was neither unfounded, nor unjust, nor fabricated or exaggerated. It was, in fact, the precise legal classification of the “act” committed by Azayku: namely, his project of “Amazigh thought,” as we have detailed. Indeed, is there any threat more serious to the security of an Arabist state in Morocco than the dissemination of an Amazigh consciousness that undermines its founding myths, denounces the historical falsehoods upon which it bases its existence and legitimacy, and reveals the truth that the state fears and shrinks from—to the point of not even daring to contemplate it? This was a real, effective, and serious threat to the security of the state—their state, that is. His conviction in 1982 proves that while we may have ignored this exceptional thinker, or at least the revolutionary scope of his ideas, the Arabist authorities did not. They knew him, monitored him, and feared him; that is why they moved so swiftly to arrest him and silence him through imprisonment.

A question then arises: why did this event—Azayku’s arrest and trial because of his Amazigh identity—not become a definitive reference point in the history and trajectory of the Amazigh movement? Why did it not serve as a historical turning point, marking the start of a new phase of awareness, demands, and methods of struggle? By way of comparison, the events of the 1980 Amazigh Spring in Algeria became a pivotal stage for the movement in that country, even though those killed or arrested were primarily field activists. In Azayku’s case, it was Amazigh thought itself, embodied by this great intellectual, that was imprisoned and murdered. Why, then, has the date of Azayku’s trial not remained a day of commemoration known to all? And why has its author remained misunderstood, forgotten, and marginalized, even though his thinking constitutes a major breakthrough in addressing issues of language, identity, culture, and history? One reason, though not the only one, undoubtedly lies in the fact that the man carrying this vision was, as I have noted, ahead of his time and ahead of the demands being voiced by the Amazigh movement at that period.

This brings me to the question of the marginalization of Amazigh identity, for which we systematically blame political power and its institutions. Yet we often forget that the most severe and cruelest form of marginalization is that which we inflict upon one another through ignorance, indifference, and the refusal to recognize the value of each other’s ideas. This is how we have treated Azayku for over a third of a century—and it may yet continue. Throughout this time, he remained in the shadows; we knew only his surface, that of the activist imprisoned for the cause, while remaining entirely ignorant of the substance of his work, because his thinking far outpaced his era. Today, as we discover—I speak first for myself, but this applies to many others—this foundational school of thought established by Azayku, what is our duty to honor this intellectual and show our gratitude for his contribution to the Amazigh cause? I am reminded here of the words of Gibran Khalil Gibran, who said: “If you want to honor a great man as a tribute, do not give him anything, but take from him.” This maxim fits Azayku perfectly: he expects nothing from us and has no need for our tributes, but it is now our responsibility to draw more deeply from this Amazigh thought, the concepts and first milestones of which he laid more than thirty years ago.

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