Nearly 50 years after independence, the North African states of Algeria and Morocco face challenges to their national unity and territorial integrity. In Algeria, a
contentious referendum on a “Peace and National Reconciliation” charter proposed by President Abdelaziz Bouteflika passed on September 29, 2005, in spite of opposition calls for a boycott. The charter, which will grant members of the military and Islamist militias immunity from prosecution for all but the most heinous crimes committed during the country’s 13-year civil war, was vigorously criticized by lo- cal and global human rights organizations for sidestepping victims’ rights in the name of regime consolidation and military impunity. Meanwhile, Morocco, also in the final stages of “turning the page” on its “years of lead” — the period of human rights abuse in the name of state security under the deceased King Hassan II — has found itself the object of international scrutiny for its strong-arm handling of sub-Saharan African trans-migrants attempting desperate crossings into the Spanish enclaves of Ceuta and Melilla in October. Reports of brutality by Moroccan security forces (at least 14 migrants lost their lives in the attempted crossings) and mass deportations from refugee centers belie overt state attempts over the last six years to present Morocco as a modern democratic state that guarantees human rights writ large.
In both the Moroccan and Algerian cases, the authorities face ethnic, racial and religious fragmentation from within and political-demographic pressures from without. These internal and external challenges are directly linked. Morocco’s increasingly close trade and diplomatic relations with the European Union and the United States are premised on its ability to control its borders and prosecute jihadi groups with supposed links to the bombings in Madrid and London and the assassination of Dutch filmmaker Theo Van Gogh, all the while proving itself more respectful of human rights and democracy. To accomplish this paradoxical task, the state has sought an ally in the secularist Berber opposition that has consistently looked down upon black populations — in spite of much talk of “Africanity.” The Algerian state has struck similar alliances with Marxist and Berberist movements against the Islamist opposition in its own war on terror, although this strategy has proven increasingly difficult in light of calls for autonomy in the Berberophone region of Kabylia in the wake of the regional uprising of April 2001. A fractured ethnic, racial and religious landscape thus persists as the ground on which the contemporary North African politics of violence takes place.
Berbers and Arabs
To speak of fragmentation in Morocco and Algeria is to reference a set of unresolved tensions in the definition of the nation-state following independence, achieved by Morocco in 1956 and Algeria in 1962. The nationalist movements in Algeria and Morocco, which were subsumed by the 1950s under the leadership of the National Liberation Front (FLN) and Istiqlal parties, respectively, forged national ideologies that insisted on Islam and Arabic as the unifying features of North Africa. Claims that Berberness was a foundational identity for nationhood were countered by historical narratives that insisted on the prior and voluntary fusion of Arabs and Berbers under the mantle of Islam.  Although self-described Berber leaders were central to the national revolutions, and Berberophone regions were made to pay a heavy price by the French colonial army for their support of the fighters, these people and places were largely marginalized (sometimes violently) from the nationalist movements which eventually looked to the Arabophone centers of Algiers, Oran and Fez for the direction of the nascent states. 
Upon assuming power, the ruling parties made it official: in the Moroccan constitution and the Algerian national charter, Islam and Arabic were named the national religion and language. The Algerian document decried Berber claims to cultural difference as “feudal survivals” and “obstacles to national integration.” Such national unity through ideological fiat was in and of itself insufficient, however. The repeated use of military might was required to suppress a variety of movements for regional autonomy and ethnic self-determination that arose in the immediate aftermath of independence. In Algeria, the Kabyle revolutionary leader Hocine Aït Ahmed led a ten-month insurrection beginning in September 1963 against the “ethnic fascism” of the single-party FLN government. Violently suppressed by the Algerian national army, Aït Ahmed’s Socialist Forces Front (FFS) remained active as an oppositional force in European exile until it was legalized as a political party after the 1989 liberalization. In the interim, the army remained ever vigilant of Kabyle regionalism, intervening with force during the student unrest and labor strikes of March-April 1980 (the “Berber Spring”) and October 1988.
In Morocco, the early years after independence witnessed a similar use of state violence to ensure national unity, particularly in the peripheral Berberophone regions that had been historically characterized as constituting (and continued to self-identify as) a “land of dissidence” (bilad al-siba) against the authority of the central state (al-makhzen). In 1957, the army of Crown Prince Moulay Hassan was forced to intervene in the southeastern Tafilalet province when the local governor, Addi ou Bihi, refused to accept the Rabat-based Ministry of Interior’s nomination of provincial qaids, jailed local members of the Istiqlal party and took direct control over the towns of Midelt and Rich. In December of the following year, a number of Berber tribes in the northern Rif mountains fought a three-month rebellion against central state rule. The revolt followed the government’s arrest of leaders of the rural-based Mouvement Populaire political movement, and the insurgents demanded neutral (non-Istiqlal) local administrators as well as more state investment in the region. The eventual repression by Moulay Hassan’s forces was brutal, with artillery fire and aerial bombardments of the dissident regions resulting in severe casualties, and the near decimation of the Beni Ouriaghel tribe.  In 1972–1973, in conjunction with the attempted assassination of King Hassan II by army forces loyal to General Mohammed Oufkir, Berber groups in the Middle Atlas, High Atlas and pre-Saharan southeast amassed arms and attempted a revolutionary secession. Likewise severely repressed, hundreds of the participants were jailed, and over 20 were sentenced to death and subsequently shot. 
In spite of the failure of these particular movements, the memory of these threats to the territorial integrity of the state continues to haunt the Algerian and Moroccan regimes. In response, increasingly powerful Interior Ministries have pursued the centralization of political authority, the surveillance of dissent, the ongoing economic marginalization of Berberophone regions in favor of more loyal areas, and explicit processes of cultural assimilation through the Arabization of the media and the school system. Until the late 1980s, advocates of Berber culture were consistently accused of colonial toadyism and sectarianism by the national media, and were on occasion arrested for sedition, if not forced into exile. Indeed, nationalist ideologues dismissed the very notion of Berber ethnic particularity as a colonial invention.
In spite of these efforts, a Berber cultural renaissance has transpired since the late 1960s, with activists operating originally in the diaspora (primarily in France) and increasingly in North Africa proper to make Berberness an object of political struggle, create a standardized language (Tamazight), and disseminate notions of a pan-Berber identity through cultural associations, newspapers and political song. In Algeria, these activities were directed by the Berber Cultural Movement formed in the wake of the 1980 Berber Spring, and later by the rival, Kabylia-based FFS and Rally for Culture and Democracy (RCD), parties legalized after 1989. By the mid-1990s, the state had largely acceded to the demands, agreeing to incorporate Tamazight into the national media and the school system, establishing a High Commission on Amazighité (Berberness) and recognizing Tamazight as “one of the foundations of national identity” in the November 1996 constitutional reform.  The RCD even joined coalition governments in the late 1990s under the elected presidents Liamine Zéroual and Bouteflika, both of whom were primarily backed by the military.
These gains on the cultural front have not, however, translated into the institutional self-determination that many Kabyles have demanded — at times, violently. During the civil war that began in 1992 but reached its nadir in the late 1990s, Kabylia was a battleground where assertions of de facto autonomy were countered by measures to centralize government control. In general, while the civil war destabilized local authority in much of the country, the violence allowed the military to reassert its absolute control of the Algerian state, canceling much of the electoral processes and democratic openings achieved in the late 1980s.  Among other efforts, the state sought to expand its power locally through the formation of civilian “patriot” militias — officially “Self-Defense Groups” — intended to fight a proxy war against Islamist forces. Whatever the effectiveness of these organizations, with many coming to serve essentially as private armies for local mayors, their presence in Kabylia ironically provided certain villages an aura of control over their borders and internal affairs.
Nonetheless, this sense of self-determination proved to be superficial and ultimately fragile. The assassination of political singer Lounès Matoub in June 1998 at the hands of unknown assailants, and the killing of teenager Massinissa Guermah in April 2001 by military gendarmes, underlined for many Kabyles the extant conditions of hogra, an expression referring to socio-economic marginalization and inequality, a lack of transparent justice and treatment as “second-class citizens” (citoyens de seconde zone). Accusing the Algerian government of ultimate responsibility for the two deaths, young Kabyle men took to the streets of the provincial capitals of Tizi Ouzou and Bejaïa, as well as other towns throughout the region, chanting “Government, Assassin” (Pouvoir, Assassin), attacking local government offices and confronting government security forces. While the 1998 demonstrations died down after a week with minimal casualties, the 2001 “Black Spring” proved much more deadly, with at least 60 young men killed and over 300 injured by state troops, and aftershocks continuing throughout the year. 
The violence in Kabylia provoked a number of political ramifications that have furthered the effective regional and ethnic fragmentation of the country. In the first place, the FFS-RCD impasse that had hamstrung Kabyle politics was broken down, with the RCD breaking from its coalition with Bouteflika’s ruling party, and both parties participating in joint efforts to promote a peaceful settlement. Moreover, these parties were transcended by a new political actor, the Coordination of ‘Aarouch, Daïras and Communes (CADC), which united a series of non-governmental, village-based decision-making bodies into a single negotiating partner with the state. If the RCD and FFS had been discredited in the eyes of the general populace due to their inability to achieve a minimum of security, social welfare and economic expansion in Kabylia — and indeed local offices of the two parties were directly attacked in the two sets of demonstrations — the CADC managed to mobilize 500,000 people in a “black march” in Tizi Ouzou on May 21, 2001 that marked the end of the major violence. Alongside the CADC, several other new regional actors emerged: a nebulous Armed Berber Movement (MAB) and a France-based Movement for the Autonomy of Kabylia (MAK). If the MAB — which vowed, in the wake of Matoub’s assassination, to rid Kabylia of Islamists by any means necessary — provided the state with an excuse to maintain an armed presence in the region (and thus has been cited by conspiracy theorists as a government Trojan horse), the MAK has proved to be an enduring voice in the present conflict. Disavowing the violence of the MAB, the MAK nonetheless advocates the creation of autonomous local government bodies and security forces that would replace the Algiers-directed communal assemblies and gendarmerie. While the MAK recognizes the rights of the national (and, to its mind, future federal) state to maintain an army, regulate inter-regional commerce and provide a single currency, it nonetheless proposes a separate Kabyle flag that would be hung alongside the Algerian one. In fact, throughout its Proposition for a Project of Autonomy for Kabylia, it consistently presents Kabylia and Algeria as parallel entities: “Kabylia will be more open to Algerians, and Algeria to Kabyles.” 
Given the pressures for regional autonomy and the ethnic dimensions of the violence, Bouteflika’s recent Charter for Peace and National Reconciliation should be read as more than simply an attempt to encourage the remaining 1,000 or so Islamist fighters to give up their arms and thus mark the end of a civil war that has been substantially over since 1999. In the first place, Algeria remains an important partner to the US in its global “war on terror,” so any indemnification of Is- lamist militia members is necessarily balanced by the increasing surveillance and “uprooting” of groups like the Salafist Group for Prayer and Combat (GSPC) with declared ties to al-Qaeda.
As well, the enduring challenge to state national rule is the low-intensity warfare between military gendarmes and Kabyle civilians, marked by the widespread demands for the removal of the gendarmes from Kabylia. In this respect, the charter on “national reconciliation” signals an attempt by the regime to reinforce the “nation” as the super-ordinate vector of political practice and citizen loyalty, and to legitimate its leadership of said nation through a popular vote of approval. The importance of such symbolic support is paramount, not only so that the regime can promote its policies across the country in the wake of the hotly contested 2004 presidential election, but also so that it can prove to an international audience its respect for human rights. Such stakes are not lost on Kabyle political movements and parties, which have roundly condemned the charter for being simply a means for the regime to “auto-amnesty” and to continue to pursue violent means with near impunity. As Ferhat Mehenni of the MAK insisted at a July 25, 2005 press conference, Kabyles will not so easily forget their fallen comrades, whether those killed during the 1963 uprising, the Black Spring, or during any point in between.
Relatively speaking, Morocco has experienced a calm transition from authoritarian rule to a regime of moderate transparency, with no protracted civil war or ethnic violence such as afflicted Algeria. Yet it too has been pursuing a process of national reconciliation designed to re-suture a nation ideologically and regionally fragmented by the state violence that persisted through the 1970s. While Berber associations have been an active element of urban civil society since the mid-1980s, they were subject to heavy state surveillance, with six members of the southeastern association Tilelli arrested as late as 1994 for displaying signs written in Tamazight during a May Day parade in Errachidia. Responding to the international outcry protesting these arrests, the government promised a series of reforms that have subsequently led to the 2001 establishment of a Royal Institute of Amazigh Culture (IRCAM) and the introduction of Tamazight into the media and primary school classrooms. 
To a large extent, the opening of a dialogue between the state and the secularist Amazigh movement, while a sea change from even a decade before, has been part of a longer monarchical politics of cooptation. This cooptation has proven especially urgent in light of two contemporary factors: first, the very real challenges to state rule in the form of Islamist movements and jihadi groups, whose emerging presence in Morocco was made dramatically clear with the May 2003 bombings in Casablanca; second, the success of Berber associations (like the Rabat-based Tamaynut) in redefining Berberness as a cultural right and in mobilizing UNESCO, various EU commissions and international NGOs in support of such a claim. In this respect, IRCAM should be understood as part and parcel of both the Moroccan state’s efforts to “turn the page” on the past and its larger “war on terror.”
Moroccan Berber groups are understandably wary of this politics of cooptation. While many association members joined IRCAM as researchers or members of its advisory board, many others have remained on the periphery and have been vocally critical of its actions. The latter accuse the Moroccan state of trying to “folklorize” Berber culture, viewing IRCAM’s decision to adopt the Tifinagh script over the Latin one, and to standardize three regional dialects instead of a single Tamazight, as clear attempts to cut off the Moroccan Berber community from those in Algeria and the diaspora. Moreover, they argue that the exclusive focus on language and culture has sidelined more important issues over the control of local land and resources. As early as 1996, Tamaynut had advocated for Berber regional autonomy as defined by the self-determination of economic, social and cultural affairs.  Such issues remain squarely on the agenda for those taking part in the amorphous Amazigh Movement (who have explicitly dropped the term “Culture” from their self-appellation), a group based in Rabat but made up of Berberophones from the southern and southeastern regions, most of whom had been members of Tamaynut before it joined IRCAM. These activists keep in close contact with Kabyle militants over the Internet, host the latter when they visit Morocco and plot their own visions of Berber autonomy through the discourse of the MAK and other such groups.
More than simply an agenda item, Berber regional autonomy in Morocco has been an object of recent conflicts that have pitted local activists against state officials and their legal resources across a geographic spread that recapitulates the earlier struggles of the late 1950s and early 1970s, if at a lower scale of intensity. Since the establishment of IRCAM, many Berber cultural associations from the High Atlas mountains, the southern Sous valley and the pre-Saharan southeast have recentered their activities around socio-economic development, environmental protection and community education — treating these arenas as equivalently subject to a universal discourse of human rights. In recent years, these groups have been involved in protests against state efforts to expropriate tribal lands for municipal, national or even private use. In February-March 2004, the Averroès Foundation for Education and Development based in the pre-Saharan town of Goulmima launched a sustained protest against the provincial governor’s attempt to procure the cession of five hectares of collective land to a non-local private investor in compensation for the latter’s loss of business following the construction of a new bridge across the river bed. Five members of the association were interrogated by the municipal police and threatened with arrest and criminal prosecution before the association was able to call on connections in Rabat to pressure the governor to drop the case. A smaller conflict erupted during the same period in neighboring Tinjdad over the state electric company’s attempts to secure local land for the building of an electrical relay station, with similar threats of prosecution narrowly averted. Members of the Association for Integration and Durable Development of the High Atlas region of the Tasemmit massif were not so lucky when they attempted to block the state’s establishment of a nature preserve for wild mouflon sheep that would cut off village inhabitants from their grazing lands and easy access to local market and educational centers. Three women from the area were sentenced to two months in prison for having cut a hole in the reserve’s boundary fence to gain access to a water source, and the president of the association was correspondingly put on trial for his role in “inciting racial hatred, tribalism, inciting destruction of public property, threatening the public order.” 
If state accusations of “racial hatred” and “tribalism” were clearly exaggerated, in all three cases, the conflict was between state efforts at national development and the attempts of local groups to control resources that they identified in Berber tribal terms. In other words, the struggle is not merely taking place within the framework of ethnicity — between an Arabized state apparatus and a Berberophone “indigenous people” seeking regional autonomy — but also on a racialized terrain of contestation over the definition and control of the “local.” Berber activists’ claims to indigeneity in given localities are premised on a timeline that begins with the arrival of French colonizers. While Berberophones clearly antedated Arabophones in Morocco, they belonged generally to transhumant tribal confederations that battled each other for pastoral grazing rights and the ability to control local agriculture. What made this livelihood possible, particularly in the pre-Saharan regions, was the existence of an agrarian class of black sharecroppers, the Berber-speaking Haratine, who tilled the oasis fields as dependent clients of the Berber tribes, enjoying neither legal rights nor the ability to own and inherit land. The arrival of the French and the “pacification” of the bilad al-siba fixed the tribes and landholding relations in their place, with the French recognizing the Berbers’ tribal land claims.
The independent Moroccan state inherited this colonial legal architecture recognizing tribal claims, but simultane- ously granted the Haratine citizenship, thus freeing them from their legal dependence on the Berber tribes and enabling the possibility of mobility and private land ownership. No longer able to benefit from an enforced Haratine labor regime, and subject to practices of partible inheritance whereby land was equally divided between the sons of the deceased, Berber residents of the pre-Saharan periphery had to seek additional means of livelihood, either through the establishment of small businesses, or through the upward social mobility enabled by the national educational system. In the 1960s and 1970s, young Berber men from the areas around Goulmima and Tinjdad achieved disproportionate success on national exams, moving into high positions within the state apparatus and the army as engineers and high-level functionaries. However, this success primarily resulted in the further fragmentation of local notable families, with migrated men setting up households in Casablanca or Rabat and keeping their distance from local affairs.
Haratine (or Iqbliyen, as former Haratine refer to themselves) mobility, in contrast, remained directly tied to local concerns. Lacking similar access to the state apparatus due to embedded racism and a relative distance from educational facilities, the Iqbliyen pursued migrant construction and factory work in the northern Moroccan cities and in Europe. Not only did they remit a large percentage of their income, they also for the most part returned to their oasis communities, transforming their economic capital into local social capital in the form of land acquisition and the purchase of political influence. In this respect, both private land and political power began to pass from diminishing Berber households to demographically expanding Iqbliyen families, with Iqbliyen demanding and gaining representation on informal community councils and displacing Berbers as elected heads of municipal boards and assemblies. 
This shift in the racialized political economy — what Hsain Ilahiane calls the “retribalization of the village space”  — of southern and southeastern Morocco has only deepened the divide between Berber and Iqbliyen Moroccan citizens. In general, Iqbliyen, while Berber-speakers themselves and full participants in much of the ritual life that the Amazigh cultural movement highlights as markers of Berber culture, are suspicious of Berber associations and land-claim struggles as mere props for a tribalist politics for local resource dominance. Iqbliyen feel excluded from the social and economic promotion that claims to Berber cultural rights have enabled, whether for members of IRCAM or for the variety of association leaders, journalists and other engaged intellectuals now living and working in Rabat and abroad who have profited from the marketing of Berber culture to the government and diasporic consumers. In the meantime, the Iqbliyen’s lack of active engagement in Berber politics has fostered further resentment from the majority of Berber activists from the region, who regard them as self-hating Berber-speakers, if not direct supporters of the makhzen. This resentment feeds into a larger racism that draws on an older form of ideological justification for Haratine disenfranchisement, that blacks are without honor or asl (pastoral ancestry), merely “flies” (izzen) who reproduce too much. Such racism persists among many Berber members of cultural and human rights associations, in spite of their avowal of universalist principles and detailing of “Africanity” as an element of Berber and Moroccan identity. Occasionally, this racialized ideological tension plays out violently, as occurred on the campus of the University of Errachidia in December 2003, when Iqbliyen members of a Marxist student group and Berber students in the Amazigh Cultural Movement physically fought over whether or not to support an exam boycott in support of the Palestinian intifada, resulting in several hospitalizations and one near fatality.
The Berber-Iqbliyen divide is matched by a lack of solidarity between the Amazigh movement and the fight for Sahrawi self-determination in the disputed Western Sahara. To a great extent, the wide participation of southern Berbers in the 1975 Green March — in which Hassan II mobilized 350,000 Moroccan citizens in an auto-da-fè occupation of lands left behind by the departing Spanish colonial regime — relegitimated them as loyal citizens in the eyes of the monarchy. Many of them have remained in the Sahara, benefiting from government living and educational subsidies. The continued silence of Berber activists on the Sahara question remains the condition of possibility for their ongoing negotiations with the government for cultural and linguistic rights. Such silence, combined with persistent racism, marks a black-Berber racial divide that parallels and occasionally reinforces ongoing Arab-Berber ethnic fragmentation.
Borders and Nations
It is literally upon this fragmented ethnic and racial landscape that the current crisis over African trans-migration takes place. On the one hand, the unresolved Sahara question, in conjunction with relaxed visa requirements for sub-Saharan Africans, creates a porous southern border zone under the parallel and competing administrations of the Moroccan state, the Sahrawi POLISARIO Front and the UN peacekeeping operation, all allowing southern migrants relatively easy entrance to Morocco. As migrant remittances and smuggling contribute substantially to the Moroccan economy, the Moroccan state appears unwilling to devote great resources to dismantling the migration circuit in toto, thus keeping Morocco a prominent transit point on the African migration route. On the other hand, a heavily reinforced northern border (particularly into Melilla and Ceuta), made all the more impermeable by new EU imperatives to restrict undocumented migration and patrol against the movement of suspected terrorists, traps trans-migrants in Morocco.
Within this ambivalent context, sub-Saharan trans-migrants are socially and politically invisible, falling under the purview of neither citizen rights nor refugee protection, neither benefiting from the tacit support of corrupt border officials nor subjected to intense police surveillance as in Europe. Numbering as many as 30,000 and ignored by all but a few international NGOs, they inhabit Morocco in a state of permanent transit, camped in the forests of the Rif mountains, or occupying makeshift holding centers on the fringes of Oujda in the north and Guelmine in the south, with no formal institutions or advocacy groups of their own. While international human rights groups have decried the living conditions as deplorable and accused the Moroccan police of brutality in the recent killings and roundups, domestic human rights and cultural associations — manned primarily by urban and/or Berber intellectuals — have remained, for the most part, silent. In the end, and in spite of promises of protection from the monarch who sets himself above racial and ethnic divisions as “commander of the faithful,” these black trans-migrants remain permanent outsiders to the Moroccan nation, whose very foreclosure from political visibility or human rights protections makes future national reconciliation possible.
In this respect, state-directed movements for national reconciliation in North Africa index a de facto state of ethnic fragmentation and low-intensity racial conflict that defines the boundaries of national membership and loyalty. In both movements for regional autonomy in Algeria and the conflict over trans-migration in Morocco, what remains at issue is the territorial integrity of the state as marked by the control of the internal and external borders of the nation.
 James McDougall, “Myth and Counter-Myth: ‘The Berber’ as National Signifier in Algerian Historiographies,” Radical History Review 86 (2004). I use the term “Berber” to reference Berber-speakers in North Africa and the diaspora. Berber activists, particularly in Morocco, deploy the term “Amazigh.” In Algeria, the ethno-linguistic appellation, “Berber,” strongly overlaps with the regional designation, “Kabyle,” as Kabylia is the home to the majority of Algeria’s Berber-speakers and has historically been the strongest center of Berber activism.
 Although Algiers and Fez in fact have large populations of Berber-speakers, Arabic remains the dominant language, monopolizing the public sphere.
 John Waterbury, The Commander of the Faithful (New York: Columbia University Press, 1970), pp. 239–243; Susan Slyomovics, “Self-Determination as Self-Definition: The Case of Morocco,” in Hurst Hannum and Eileen Babbitt, eds. Negotiating Self-Determination (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, forthcoming), p. 145.
 See the compelling account of the revolt by the son of one of its leaders, Mohamed Bennouna. Mehdi Bennouna, Héros sans gloire: Echec d’une révolution, 1963–1973 (Casablanca: Tarik Editions, 2002).
 Bruce Maddy-Weitzman, “Contested Identities: Berbers, ‘Berberism’ and the State in North Africa,” Journal of North African Studies 6/3 (2001), pp. 39–40.
 See Luis Martinez, The Algerian Civil War, 1990–1998 (New York: Columbia University Press, 2000) for an analysis of the role of violence in underwriting state authority. See also Paul Silverstein, “Regimes of (Un)Truth: Conspiracy Theory and the Transnationalization of the Algerian Civil War,” Middle East Report 214 (Winter 2000).
 Paul Silverstein, “Martyrs and Patriots: Ethnic, National and Transnational Dimensions of Kabyle Politics,” Journal of North African Studies 8 (Spring 2003), pp. 101–107.
 The text is available online at: http://www.makabylie.info/article.php3?id_article=147.
 See Paul Silverstein and David Crawford, “Amazigh Activism and the Moroccan State,” Middle East Report 233 (Winter 2004).
 Slyomovics, “Self-Determination as Self-Definition,” p. 149.
 Details are available online at: http://asidd.teamfr.com/.
 Hsain Ilahiane, Ethnicities, Community Making and Agrarian Change: The Political Ecology of a Moroccan Oasis (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2004), pp. 172–196.
 Ibid., p. 195.