Marrakech – Football, at its best, is a civil religion: it compresses a nation into ninety minutes, turns gestures into symbols, and makes the crowd believe that fate has a scoreboard. At its worst, it invites a more dangerous illusion – that a result, or even a chaotic ending, can be promoted into a verdict on a relationship older than the modern state itself.
The Morocco-Senegal bond is precisely the kind of partnership that refuses such shortcuts: layered, cumulative, and stubbornly resilient, like a palimpsest where each generation writes its chapter without fully erasing the last.
That is why the diplomatic choreography in Rabat this month mattered more than the social-media noise that followed the AFCON. The echoes of the final between Atlas Lions and Teranga Lions had scarcely subsided when both capitals moved to demonstrate a level of diplomatic composure that sport, by its very nature, cannot always guarantee.
Barely eight days after Senegal’s victory at the Moulay Abdellah Stadium in Rabat – an evening marred by chaotic scenes and momentary tensions – Head of Government Aziz Akhannouch and Senegalese Prime Minister Ousmane Sonko met in the Moroccan capital to sign 17 new cooperation agreements.
This was not a matter of scheduling coincidence. The timing was anything but accidental; it was a conscious act of statecraft – a calibrated assertion that ties forged across centuries of history, faith, and strategic alignment are structurally immune to the emotional turbulence and fleeting tyranny of ninety minutes on a football pitch.
The 15th joint high commission convened on January 26-27 thus exceeded the logic of crisis management. More than a reactive patch-up, it was the revival of a bilateral mechanism that had lain dormant since 2013, when the two countries agreed in Dakar to create a follow-up committee to monitor cooperation and accelerate implementation of joint recommendations from their previous session.
In this sense, the current session functioned instead as a political signal. It said that the Morocco-Senegal partnership is anchored in structures, institutions, and a long historical memory that resists emotional short-circuiting. In other words, the commission did what serious states do when spectators shout: it returned the conversation to institutions, agreements, and long-term interests.
PM Sonko’s insistence that his visit was not an exercise in appeasement but one of confirmation and refoundation was not rhetorical ornamentation. His framing drew a clear line between emotion and policy.
The incidents surrounding the final, Sonko stressed, must be understood as “emotional excesses produced by fervor,” not as expressions of political rupture or cultural antagonism. As such, he denied oxygen to adversarial voices seeking to poison bilateral relations.
This posture was echoed on the Moroccan side with equal clarity. Akhannouch reminded participants that relations between Rabat and Dakar rest on what he described as “a solid foundation” built over time and insulated from momentary shocks.
He further underlined that the bilateral partnership is anchored in human, spiritual, and economic bonds, a triad that places Morocco-Senegal relations beyond the reach of episodic tension.
King Mohammed VI himself addressed the situation last week, calling on Moroccans not to be “drawn into rancor and discord” despite the “unfortunate incidents” that marred the final’s closing minutes.
“Even if this great continental football celebration seems to have been sadly tainted by the unfortunate episode of the last minutes of the match, nothing can alter the proximity cultivated over the centuries between our African peoples,” the King stated in his communique.
In a striking moment of political symbolism, the presence of Sonko in Parliament coincided with Fouzi Lekjaa’s presentation before the chamber, prompting rare cross-party applause. Nearly all parliamentary groups hailed Lekjaa for overseeing the successful stewardship of AFCON 2025.
The episode carried added resonance given Lekjaa’s profile as Morocco’s budget minister and president of the Royal Moroccan Football Federation (FRMF), long targeted by conspiracy narratives depicting him as a shadowy orchestrator of backstage manipulation.
As the Senegalese delegation looked on – and shared the moment with their Moroccan counterparts – the scene quietly affirmed institutional respect and shared recognition prevailing over post-final emotion.
In doing so, Dakar and Rabat jointly refused the temptation – so often encouraged by external actors and digital echo chambers – to metastasize sporting disorder into diplomatic meaning.
To treat Morocco’s African depth as analysis rather than slogan, it must be understood as an intellectual and strategic project that long predates recent inflection points. A revealing biographical detail is that in 1985, Mohammed VI completed a law degree in Rabat with a thesis on “The Arab-African Union and the Kingdom’s international relations strategy.”
Africa, in other words, was embedded early in the kingdom’s conceptual framework. This orientation did not suddenly emerge with Morocco’s return to the African Union in 2017 or with the Atlantic Initiative announced in 2023. Rather, Mohammed VI’s method has consistently favored substance over spectacle: allowing policy to express itself through institutions, long-term partnerships, and cumulative African engagement rather than episodic declarations.
The commission was a reminder: States are not fan pages
Reading the list of instruments signed at the close of the commission, one fact becomes immediately clear: this was not a relationship operating in response mode, but one firmly in construction mode.
The 17 agreements initialed in Rabat did not circle around symbolism or post-crisis optics. Instead, they mapped out concrete cooperation across education, infrastructure, agriculture, industry, digital economy, transport, vocational training, and consular affairs. This was policy work, not mood management – evidence of a partnership that thinks in planning cycles rather than news cycles.
Several of the agreements speak directly to long-term state capacity. Programs covering higher education (2026-2028), vocational training, scholarships, and the sharing of expertise reflect a deliberate investment in human capital, signaling that Rabat and Dakar see their partnership as generational.
Others – such as those on SME development, industrial zones, and digital economy cooperation – aim to synchronize economic modernization strategies, aligning Morocco’s experience in industrial ecosystems with Senegal’s reform and growth agenda. This was not episodic cooperation improvised in response to recent events.
The organization of such a comprehensive commission barely a week after the AFCON final would have been impossible without deep institutional preparation. What unfolded in Rabat was the visible outcome of long-standing coordination mechanisms, mature bureaucratic channels, and a partnership structured well before any sporting incident entered the equation.
Infrastructure emerged as another central pillar. Agreements touching ports, highways, road safety, logistics, and technical assistance underline a shared Atlantic vision in which connectivity is strategic rather than merely functional.
The emphasis on synergies between Tanger Med, the Port of Dakar, and emerging Atlantic ports – including Dakhla and Ndayane – situates the bilateral relationship within a wider reconfiguration of African trade corridors. In this context, Senegal’s role in the first phase of the $25 billion Nigeria-Morocco Atlantic gas pipeline further anchors Dakar as a key node in Morocco’s pan-African infrastructure strategy.
Beyond economics, the commission also reinforced the human and consular dimension of the partnership. Memoranda establishing mechanisms for consular consultations and facilitating the residence and integration of nationals reflect the lived reality of the relationship.
Senegalese nationals represent 18.4% of foreign residents in Morocco, making them the largest foreign community in the country, according to the High Commission for Planning (HCP), while Moroccans are deeply embedded in Senegal’s economic and social fabric.
These agreements translate fraternity into administrative practice, ensuring that mobility, protection, and integration are treated as policy priorities rather than rhetorical afterthoughts.
Crucially, the political alignment was neither diluted nor deferred. Senegal reaffirmed its firm and consistent support for Morocco’s sovereignty over Western Sahara, welcomed the historic adoption of UN Security Council Resolution 2797 on October 31, 2025, and reiterated its backing for Morocco’s autonomy initiative as the sole credible basis for a political solution.
Dakar has indeed maintained a Senegalese consulate in Dakhla since April 2021, becoming the 22nd nation to establish a diplomatic mission in Western Sahara.
Under international law, opening a consulate implies recognition of the host country’s sovereignty – making this decision a concrete demonstration of Senegal’s support for Morocco’s territorial integrity.
This position has survived political transitions, with President Bassirou Diomaye Faye – elected in March 2024 on a reform platform – maintaining his predecessor’s pro-Morocco stance.
In a moment when some sought to inflate sporting tension into strategic rupture, the commission instead restated two simple truths. First, that Morocco and Senegal operate as states, not fan pages. And second, that the two states’ partnership is governed by interests, institutions, and history rather than by the emotional aftershocks of a single match.
To escape the conspiratorial trap laid in the aftermath of the final, it is instructive that Senegalese voices themselves sounded the alarm. Prominent journalists openly acknowledged that, in the vacuum left by the retreat of national broadcasters from the international arena, external channels stepped in to shape the narrative.
What followed was not spontaneous indignation, but a form of proxy discourse – ready-made arguments, imported frames, and borrowed indignation, repackaged as national defense.
In this strange inversion, a foreign public broadcaster assumed the role of advocate, while local media echoed its tones. It was a confession less of malice than of vulnerability: proof that information wars thrive not on passion alone, but on institutional absence.
This admission was articulated with striking bluntness by Senegalese journalist Alioune Badara Kane. “It is today the Algerian public television channel that ensures our defense,” Kane lamented in disbelief, noting that extracts from the Algerian TV channel’s French-language programs were being reused by Senegalese commentators to “deconstruct the narratives of FIFA, CAF, and Morocco.”
His assessment was echoed by writer and analyst Pape Sadio Thiam, who described the situation as a media failure in which Senegal had “deserted the international field,” leaving its symbolic defense to external actors.
A relationship older than borders
To understand why a football match – however emotionally charged – could not fundamentally alter Morocco-Senegal relations requires examining their extraordinary historical depth. The contemporary architecture sits on an older foundation.
Both countries share one of Africa’s most enduring bilateral relationships, shaped by more than a millennium of religious, commercial, and political ties. Morocco’s Foreign Minister Nasser Bourita described it last November as a “reference relationship when it comes to Morocco’s ties with Africa.”
Long before Rabat and Dakar existed as the capitals we recognize today, North-West African space was connected by trade, scholarship, and spiritual authority.
The Almoravid Empire (c. 1050-1147) represents the most dramatic early expression of north-south connectivity. Emerging from southern Morocco and the western Saharan space, the Amazigh dynasty expanded southward into what is now Mauritania and the Senegal River basin, before projecting power northward to unify Morocco and extend its rule into al-Andalus, reaching as far as present-day Spain.
The Gudala tribe, one of three founding Almoravid clans, occupied “littoral Mauritania down to the borderlands of the Senegal River.”
From their origins, the Almoravids built an empire stretching 3,000 kilometers north to south – from the Senegal River to the Ebro River in Spain – establishing Marrakech as their capital around 1070. This dynasty conquered the Ghana Empire, converted the kingdom of Takrur (in modern Senegal) to Islam, and controlled the trans-Saharan gold-salt trade that made both regions wealthy.
Medieval trade routes further deepened connections. By the 9th century, a western trans-Saharan network linked Moroccan cities like Fez and Sijilmasa to West African trading centers near the Senegal and Niger Rivers.
Merchants exchanged gold, ivory, and slaves moving north for Saharan salt, Moroccan textiles, and copper moving south. The 14th-century historian al-Umari reported that traders sometimes exchanged “a cup of salt for a cup of gold dust.”
The Saadian conquest of 1591 reasserted Moroccan political presence in West Africa when Sultan Ahmad al-Mansur sent an army across the Sahara to defeat the Songhai Empire.
Morocco subsequently established the Pashalik of Timbuktu, which maintained nominal allegiance to Moroccan sultans until the 19th century. As late as the 1780s, Sultan Mohammed III referred to himself as “Sovereign of Gao and Guinea” in diplomatic correspondence.
The Treaty of Friendship between Morocco and Britain offers another early illustration. Signed in Fez on January 23, 1721, during the reign of King George I, the treaty formally addressed Sultan Moulay Ismail as “King of Fez, Mequinez, Morocco, and all the West of Africa.”
What later came to be described as “Greater Morocco” emerged in the post-independence period as an interpretation of Morocco’s historical record rather than as a sudden political invention.
Drawing on pre-colonial dynastic geographies, nationalist leader Allal al-Fassi argued in 1956 that colonial borders had significantly truncated what he viewed as Morocco’s historical sphere of authority.
His writings and maps reflected a reading of history in which Moroccan political and religious influence had, at various moments, extended from the Mediterranean to the Senegal River, encompassing present-day Mauritania, parts of western Algeria, and northern Mali, including Timbuktu.
This interpretation rested on documented precedents: the Almoravid Empire’s southern reach, the Saadian administration of Timbuktu, and long-standing religious allegiances to the Moroccan sultan.
In the early years after independence, these historical readings shaped Morocco’s posture toward its southern neighbors, including its initial reluctance to recognize Mauritania’s independence in 1960, a position revised with the establishment of diplomatic relations in 1969.
By the late 1960s, however, this expansive historical framing had largely receded from Moroccan policy, as the kingdom’s territorial focus narrowed to Western Sahara.
Modern diplomatic ties, established in November 1960, have been reinforced by over 100 bilateral agreements and eight visits by King Mohammed VI – more than to any other African country. Trade has grown 275% since 2010, reaching $370 million in 2024, while Moroccan banks hold nearly 30% market share of accounts across West African Monetary Union countries.
The Grand Mosque of Dakar, inaugurated in 1964 by King Hassan II and President Léopold Sédar Senghor, symbolizes the partnership’s depth.
The Tijaniyya: Diplomacy of the soul
Yet the most enduring bridge was not military or commercial. It was spiritual. To understand why Morocco and Senegal can disagree loudly in sport yet cooperate quietly in statecraft, one must understand the Tijaniyya Sufi brotherhood.
Founded by Ahmad al-Tijani (1737-1815), who established his zawiya (spiritual center) in Fez with royal patronage, the order spread southward through charismatic preachers who carried its teachings across the Sahara.
Three figures proved decisive for Senegal. El Hadj Umar Tall (1794-1864), born in the Fouta-Toro region of Senegal, was appointed Caliph of the Western Sudan during his pilgrimage to Mecca and later led a jihad establishing a vast empire across present-day Senegal, Guinea, and Mali.
El Hadj Malick Sy (1855-1922) founded the Tivaouane zawiya in 1902, creating Senegal’s premier center of Tijaniyya scholarship. Ibrahim Niass (1900-1975) established Medina Baye in Kaolack, whose Faydah branch became the largest Tijani movement worldwide.
Today, approximately 50% of Senegalese Muslims – roughly half of the country’s 17 million people – follow the Tijaniyya order. Holding sacred significance comparable to Mecca for followers, the zawiya of Ahmad al-Tijani in Fez remains the global spiritual heart of the movement, drawing annual pilgrimages from Senegalese devotees who combine visits to the founder’s tomb with Mawlid celebrations.
King Mohammed VI, holding the constitutional title of Amir al-Mouminine (Commander of the Faithful), cultivates these ties through the Mohammed VI Foundation of African Ulema and the Mohammed VI Institute for Training Imams, which has trained thousands of Senegalese religious leaders since 2015.
In March 2023, Senegal’s then foreign minister Aïssata Tall Sall described King Mohammed VI as being regarded by many believers in Senegal as Amir al-Mouminine.
Speaking in Marrakech during her participation in a women-focused summit organized by Morocco’s National Rally of Independents (RNI), she referred to the King’s strong moral and religious standing in Senegal and pointed to the depth of ties between Rabat and Dakar, describing Morocco as Senegal’s “second home.”
What distinguishes this relationship is its multidimensional character. Together, these elements create what both governments describe as an “exceptional partnership” – a modern expression of connections first forged when Almoravid warriors rode north from the Senegal River to build an empire stretching to Spain.
