It’s a disheartening truth that even in our modern world, women globally only possess 64% of the legal rights enjoyed by men. This stark inequality is further amplified by the fact that nearly half of all countries still don’t mandate equal pay. Imagine a world where basic fairness is a foreign concept in the workplace. Furthermore, a staggering 54% of nations lack consent-based rape laws, a horrifying statistic that reflects a profound societal failure to protect women. As if this weren’t enough, 72% of countries still allow child marriage, stealing childhoods and futures from countless young girls. The escalating crisis of conflict-related sexual violence, which has tragically surged by 87% in just two years, paints an even grimmer picture of the challenges women face. As Annalena Baerbock, President of the UN General Assembly, aptly put it, “We no longer need to debate why women’s rights matter. The facts are clear. The real question is: why are we still not delivering?” This question resonates deeply, particularly in countries like Morocco, where the much-needed reforms to its family code, the Moudawana, are currently caught in a frustrating stalemate. This delay is fueled by a toxic mix of misinformation, limited public discussion, and a history of past reforms being implemented unevenly, leaving many women in a legal limbo.
Morocco’s journey with its Moudawana, or family code, has been a long and winding one, punctuated by waves of reform that, while well-intentioned, often stumbled during implementation. Since the country gained independence, the Moudawana has undergone three significant overhauls in 1957, 1993, and most notably in 2004. The 2004 reforms were genuinely groundbreaking, raising the legal age of marriage to 18, expanding women’s rights in divorce, and vastly improving child custody laws. These were significant steps forward towards gender equality. However, the true impact of these changes has been a mixed bag, to say the least. Take child marriage, for instance. Despite legal restrictions, judges still approved a shocking 64% of the 16,790 requests in 2024, albeit a slight improvement from the 85% in 2018. This persistent loophole highlights a fundamental flaw in how these reforms are translated into everyday reality. Women’s rights groups like the Mobilizing for Rights Association (MRA) have been tirelessly advocating for the complete repeal of articles allowing exceptions for child marriage, pushing for a future where no child is forced into marriage.
The challenges with the Moudawana reforms run deeper than just legal language; they often stem from a lack of clarity and understanding, coupled with a pervasive culture of misinformation. Stephanie Willman Bordat and Saida Kouzzi, the passionate founders of MRA, shed light on these issues during a recent workshop for young women in Rabat. Willman Bordat recalled the struggles during previous reform periods, noting that “not even judges and lawyers were fully informed,” leading to slow and confusing roll-outs in 1993 and 2004. She emphasized that there wasn’t a genuine, widespread dialogue or clear understanding of the changes. The ambiguity within the 2004 law itself further fueled this confusion, making it open to multiple interpretations and contributing to the spread of misinformation. Imagine a law that can be read “one way or another” – it’s a recipe for chaos and injustice. The widespread illiteracy among Moroccan women at the time, especially in rural areas, coupled with the use of classical Arabic in public debates, made it incredibly difficult for many to grasp the complexities of the legal texts. In response, Moroccan NGOs, with the support of USAID, launched extensive grassroots campaigns, utilizing theater, community workshops, and legal education programs to demystify the 2004 Moudawana. As Willman Bordat powerfully stated, “We didn’t want another decade to go by and nobody knew about it,” underscoring the urgent need for accessible information.
The heart of the Moudawana debate often gets entangled in a simplistic narrative of religion versus modernity, when, in reality, the issue is far more nuanced. As Marwa Sharafeldin, Senior Adviser to Musawah, the Global Movement for Equality and Justice in the Muslim Family, rightly pointed out at the 2026 CSW session, “We sometimes find dominant patriarchal interpretations of religious texts that see male superiority, authority, and guardianship over women as a sacrosanct religious edict that must be followed by law.” These deeply ingrained interpretations have historically fueled resistance to reform in Morocco, creating a fertile ground for misinformation. During both the 2004 reforms and the currently proposed 2024 changes, false narratives spread like wildfire, claiming that men would lose religiously sanctioned rights like polygamy or financial authority. Willman Bordat recounted how the opposition spread “fake news,” suggesting that “no one’s gonna want to get married because my wife is gonna take you know all my property.” She adamantly clarified, “none of that is true,” emphasizing that such provisions were “nowhere in the code.” She further highlighted that when people feel their “rights” are under attack, they become vulnerable to misinformation, often failing to distinguish between actual rights and what are, in reality, mere privileges. This highlights a critical societal challenge: differentiating between deeply held beliefs, religious interpretations, and verifiable legal facts.
The current atmosphere around the Moudawana reforms is unfortunately plagued by the same patterns of misinformation, amplified by the rapid-fire nature of social media. Public reactions are intense and often misguided, with some celebrating “imagined progress” while others fear “sweeping social change” based on inaccurate information. Willman Bordat observes that “people are presenting opinions as facts,” and crucially, “many are reacting to reforms that don’t even exist yet.” The absence of an official draft of the new Moudawana makes this problem even more acute. Although the Higher Council of Ulemas approved certain key reforms while rejecting others in late 2024, the lack of transparency has allowed speculation to breed confusion, backlash, and even false claims that reforms have already been enacted. This volatile environment underscores the urgent need for clear, accurate, and accessible information, rather than allowing a vacuum to be filled by unverified narratives that can derail crucial progress. Without official communication, the public is left to piece together information from unreliable sources, making informed debate nearly impossible.
Perhaps the most significant impediment to meaningful public discourse and the successful implementation of the Moudawana reforms lies in a critical, yet often overlooked, factor: funding. Unlike in 2004, when local NGOs played a pivotal role in educating the public, the current reform process is unfolding amidst a drastic decline in support for these crucial grassroots movements. Willman Bordat paints a grim picture, explaining that international funding for women’s rights initiatives has plummeted in recent years, severely hampering organizations’ ability to conduct vital outreach and education campaigns. She points to the devastating blow dealt by the Trump administration’s cut to USAID funding, which alone deprived the aid sector of a staggering $60 billion. A global survey following these cuts revealed that nearly half of all women’s rights and civil society groups feared closure within six months. “All the funding for women’s rights got cut after the US administration cut USAID last year. So no more USAID funding, no more State Department funding. Then a lot of the other European governments followed suit and cut their funding too,” Willman Bordat explained, leaving little doubt about the core issue. She stressed, “The reason there’s no public debate now is simple: there’s no funding.” This dramatic decline has far-reaching consequences: fewer grassroots initiatives, limited access to reliable information, and a burgeoning social media vacuum that is increasingly filled with misinformation. Willman Bordat laments, “This is the worst period in 26 years I’ve seen, whether in terms of funding or whether in terms of prioritizing women’s rights.” This stark reality underscores a critical lesson for Morocco and the world: legal reform, no matter how progressive, is ultimately insufficient without robust support for public education and outreach. As global leaders continue to grapple with the persistent gap between commitments and action on women’s rights, Morocco’s experience serves as a powerful reminder that merely changing laws on paper is not enough. “Everyone talks about awareness,” Willman Bordat emphasized, “But this is about access to information. The government has the responsibility to inform people of their rights.” Without this fundamental access to accurate information, misinformation thrives, and without sustained support for local movements, true public discourse withers. The dire consequence is that women, unable to ascertain their rights or counter misleading narratives, are ultimately disempowered and unable to claim their rightful place in society. As Morocco stands on the cusp of another potential transformation of its family code, the challenge of ensuring that these laws are not only understood but also universally and effectively applied remains an uphill battle, fraught with the danger of even more misinformation and, ultimately, the non-application of the law.