TRENDING
Monday, 5 October 2026
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24 Rabi' Al-Thani 1448 AH
Amnesty International’s new report reveals an expansive Moroccan surveillance network that weaponises spyware against reporters and activists. The piece dissects who profits, who suffers, and what the hidden agenda means for ordinary Moroccans.
Amnesty International released a damning dossier titled *Inside Morocco’s surveillance machine*, documenting how the domestic intelligence service, the DGST, deployed Israeli‑made Pegasus spyware, hidden microphones, and pre‑infected phones to monitor journalists, human‑rights defenders, and political figures between 2017 and 2021. The investigation, built on testimony from a former DGST employee, leaked documents, and collaborative reporting by 14 media outlets, identified 103 phone numbers entered into the Pegasus system, 65 of which belonged to civil‑society actors, including 22 journalists.
Morocco’s intelligence apparatus has blended high‑tech tools with classic surveillance methods. While Pegasus provides remote access to a target’s device, the DGST also used physical bugs, tailing, and wire‑taps. This hybrid approach maximises reach: remote software can infiltrate phones sold in local shops, while on‑the‑ground operatives can plant microphones in apartments, as was alleged in the case of journalist Omar Radi.
The Moroccan monarchy, facing growing dissent over economic inequality, Western Sahara protests, and calls for democratic reforms, views an uncontrolled press as a direct threat to political stability. By gathering intimate data—call logs, location histories, private conversations—the state can pre‑empt organising, discredit opponents, and craft smear campaigns that erode public credibility of dissenting voices.
The report notes that Morocco sourced surveillance tools from firms in Israel, the European Union, and the United States. This diversified procurement creates layers of plausible deniability: if a particular vendor is sanctioned, the state can pivot to another supplier without admitting a systemic policy shift. Moreover, the involvement of foreign tech firms embeds Morocco deeper into a global market for “techno‑authoritarian” products, making external pressure more complex.
Morocco enjoys strong ties with Western powers, especially the United States and France, who view Rabat as a strategic partner in counter‑terrorism and migration control. These relationships often translate into muted criticism when human‑rights abuses surface. By positioning its surveillance as a security necessity, Morocco leverages its alliance capital to deflect scrutiny, while allies benefit from a stable partner in a volatile region.
The 22 journalists flagged in the Pegasus database have faced arrests, travel bans, and legal harassment. The constant knowledge that a phone could be listening breeds self‑censorship, limiting investigative reporting on corruption, land grabs, and the Western Sahara conflict. When stories are muted, the public loses a vital conduit for accountability.
Human‑rights defenders, many of whom work on women’s rights, LGBTQ+ advocacy, and migrant assistance, have seen their personal networks mapped and their families threatened. The data harvested is repurposed for smear campaigns that portray activists as foreign agents or security threats, eroding community trust and discouraging participation in civil society.
Surveillance creates a chilling climate for foreign journalists and NGOs, reducing international media presence and aid projects that rely on on‑the‑ground reporting. Local tech startups also feel the pressure; a market perceived as hostile to privacy hampers innovation, limiting job creation in an economy already strained by youth unemployment.
Official Moroccan statements repeatedly deny the use of spyware, framing any allegations as “foreign misinformation.” This narrative seeks to preserve the image of a modern, reform‑oriented nation while quietly expanding its surveillance reach. By downplaying the scale—labeling incidents as isolated or “technical glitches”—the regime avoids triggering domestic backlash or international sanctions.
The report highlights purchases from companies based in Israel, the EU, and the U.S., yet public procurement records remain opaque. Contracts often list “security equipment” without specifying spyware capabilities, allowing vendors to sell dual‑use technologies under the guise of legitimate law‑enforcement tools. This opacity shields both the state and the suppliers from accountability.
While Amnesty called for a halt to spyware exports to Morocco, major exporting nations have offered only generic statements about responsible sales. The lack of coordinated pressure reflects a broader geopolitical calculus: Morocco’s cooperation on migration and counter‑terrorism outweighs concerns about digital repression for many Western capitals.
- Legal challenges: Watch for any court cases filed by the targeted journalists or NGOs, especially those that could force the government to disclose surveillance logs.
- Export controls: Monitor policy debates in the United States, EU, and Israel regarding the licensing of surveillance software to Morocco; any tightening could signal a shift in diplomatic priorities.
- Civil‑society resilience: Pay attention to how Moroccan journalists adapt—whether they adopt encrypted communications, shift to diaspora platforms, or organize collective legal defenses.
- International advocacy: Follow the actions of coalitions like Forbidden Stories and the broader tech‑rights movement, which may push for a UN‑level investigation or a new set of norms governing spyware sales.
- Regional spillover: Consider whether neighboring states, observing Morocco’s tactics, might adopt similar surveillance models, especially in the Maghreb where authoritarian resilience is on the rise.
By tracking these threads, readers can gauge whether Morocco’s surveillance machine will deepen, be curbed by external pressure, or inspire a broader regional turn toward digital authoritarianism.
Amnesty’s report cites testimony from a former DGST employee, leaked internal documents, and a match of 103 phone numbers entered into the Pegasus system, many belonging to journalists and activists.
The investigation found that Morocco purchases tools from firms in Israel, the European Union, and the United States, often through opaque contracts that mask the spyware’s capabilities.
Experts recommend using end‑to‑end encrypted messaging apps, regularly updating device software, and, where possible, employing hardware‑based security measures such as air‑gapped phones.
Editor's Note: Analysis based on Amnesty International’s report and publicly available sources; some procurement details remain undisclosed.
Source referenced: ALJAZEERA
This brief was synthesized by our Editorial Engine and reviewed by The Ground Narrative team.
