Blasphemy, feminism, freedom, fear of dissent: A T-shirt becomes a crime in Morocco!

Maryam Namazie, a British feminist heading an organisation called Ex-Muslims International, has been frequently sending me e-mail alerts about the activities of her group. The latest one—about the organisation taking strong exception to the persecution of a feminist for wearing a "blasphemous" T-shirt in Morocco—was particularly striking. Namazie's organisation interests me also because it claims on its website that it has affiliations in several countries, including India.

Searching the internet for details of the "blasphemy" case, I found a Hindustan Times report stating that the woman was sentenced to two and a half years in prison and fined $5,000 for wearing the T-shirt. Yet, the story did not specify what exactly was printed on the T-shirt that the Moroccan court found so offensive.

I then turned to other sources. The French daily Le Monde reported under the headline, “Moroccan feminist activist Ibtissame Lachgar gets 30 months in jail for ‘offending Islam’”, that the T-shirt bore the words “Allah is Lesbian.” It even carried a photograph of Lachgar wearing it.

The image of Ibtissame Betty Lachgar has since been widely circulated on social media, including X, after she herself posted it.

Without going into the merits or demerits of whether calling Allah lesbian is blasphemous, I turned to a comment from Namazie. While she sent it as an e-mail alert, it was also published in the British site Free Thinker under the headline: "Freedom of expression lives where offence begins: In defence of Ibtissame Betty Lachgar."

Namazie begins her piece with the statement: “Freedom of expression lives where offence begins. To offend is to question certainty, to strip the sacred of its privilege, and to laugh in the face of fear and threats. A society that bans offence bans thought itself.”

Pointing to Morocco as “the latest case in point,” she notes that Lachgar was arrested on 10 August for wearing the “Allah is Lesbian” T-shirt, which she had worn for years. What changed, Namazie says, was not the T-shirt itself but the cyber-threats Lachgar received after posting another photo of herself in it at the end of July.

According to her, “Anonymous accounts linked to a coordinated campaign by the ‘Moorish identity movement,’ a far-right network known for cyber-harassment, issued countless rape and death threats, even tagging Morocco’s National Security. Prosecutors responded not by protecting Betty from the incitement to violence, but by persecuting her.”

She insists: “Let’s be clear: Ibtissame Betty Lachgar is in prison in Morocco not because she harmed anyone, but because of her T-shirt. For that, she is being persecuted and prosecuted, whilst those who threatened her with rape and death walk free. It is always the freethinker who is silenced, never the baying mob calling for blood.”

Namazie argues that the claims against Lachgar—that she insulted Islam, endangered public order, or incited hatred—do not hold up. Islam, she points out, like Christianity or any other faith, is an idea that not everyone in Morocco shares. “To criminalise dissent is to give ideas rights they cannot have, whilst stripping individuals of rights they must. Public order cannot be a justification when the threats come not from the speaker but from her opponents. And her slogan did not target Muslims; it targeted a belief.”

Sharing the photo of Lachgar in the T-shirt, Namazie draws historical parallels: “Galileo was punished by the Catholic Church for saying the Earth turned around the Sun; Spinoza was cast out of his Jewish community for questioning scripture. Ibn Rushd defended reason against dogma in the twelfth century and was exiled, while his works were burned in Cordoba. This has always been the privilege of religion: to be shielded from the criticism that all ideas must face.”

She adds that much of the outrage has fixated on the word “lesbian.” “Yet what is so wrong with being a lesbian? God is almost universally imagined as male without objection. To imagine God as female or lesbian is deemed offensive because it challenges patriarchal norms.”

Namazie cites examples from history, including Tanit, worshipped from the fifth century BCE across North Africa, including Morocco, and the pre-Islamic Arabian goddesses Al-Lāt, Al-ʿUzzā, and Manāt, venerated until the seventh century CE. “The notion of the female divine is not alien to human heritage. That a female and lesbian Allah ‘offends’ says volumes about the deep-seated misogyny of the ‘offended’,” she observes.

Lachgar, a Moroccan psychologist, feminist, and co-founder of the Mouvement alternatif pour les libertés individuelles (MALI), has for more than 15 years been Morocco’s outspoken secular and feminist voice. She organised a “Ramadan picnic” in 2009 to challenge coercive fasting laws, defended teenagers prosecuted for a kiss with a “kiss-in” protest in 2013, and campaigned for abortion rights, LGBT equality, and women’s bodily autonomy. She is also one of Morocco’s few openly atheist public figures.

Namazie underlines: “Lachgar’s persecution rewards those who threaten her while punishing the target of their threats. It places dogma above justice and tells Moroccan citizens that they are free only to echo orthodoxy, not to dissent.”

Her organisation is now leading a #FreeBetty campaign, including an open letter to the Moroccan government. It reminds the authorities that as a party to the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), Morocco is obligated to protect freedom of thought, conscience, belief, and expression. The letter stresses that the UN Human Rights Committee has declared blasphemy laws incompatible with these protections. “The state is duty-bound to protect the freedom of expression of believers and non-believers alike,” it says.

Be that as it may, I am left wondering: doesn’t sentencing Lachgar to jail for wearing an “offensive” T-shirt reflect a growing intolerance across the world? Why could those who disagreed with her not simply debate or argue with her, rather than turning to the police?

Perhaps this is too much to expect from Morocco, which is a constitutional monarchy with democratic elements but not a full democracy. The country has a parliamentary system with elections for the House of Representatives, but the king, Mohammed VI, holds considerable power.

The 2011 constitution, adopted after Arab Spring protests, expanded parliamentary authority and introduced reforms such as an elected prime minister and stronger judiciary. Still, the king retains control over key decisions, including appointing the prime minister, dissolving parliament, and commanding the military.

Elections are held regularly—the last parliamentary election was in 2021—and multiple parties compete, but the monarchy and its allies heavily influence the system. Freedom House rates Morocco as “partly free,” citing restrictions on press freedom, assembly, and dissent. The Economist Intelligence Unit’s 2024 Democracy Index classifies Morocco as a “hybrid regime” with a score of 5.04/10, reflecting some democratic processes but significant authoritarian elements.

By contrast, India scored 7.29/10, falling into the “flawed democracy” category. This rating highlights strengths in electoral processes (8.67) but weaknesses in civil liberties and political culture, with criticism over media restrictions and challenges faced by political opposition.

Unlike Iran, Morocco is not governed solely by religious authorities or divine law. It is not a theocracy but a “Muslim constitutional monarchy” blending strong authoritarian and religious elements, where the king’s political dominance coexists with limited democratic institutions.

Lachgar has argued, as reflected in some media reports, that the T-shirt conveyed a political message and was intended as a critique of sexist ideologies and violence against women. This suggests she believes provocative individual acts can jolt a deeply conservative society from complacency.

But does this kind of rebellion actually help? I have no answer.