The Kingdom of Morocco, ever the enterprising host, has decided that the best way to deal with human rights scrutiny over Western Sahara is to offer the world a package holiday. Yes, you heard that right. Forget the decades of UN resolutions, the simmering tensions with the Polisario Front, the reports of surveillance and suppression. Instead, imagine this: a gentle dromedary ride across the disputed dunes, a complimentary glass of mint tea, and perhaps a souvenir T-shirt emblazoned with 'I survived a sovereignty dispute and all I got was this lousy sandstorm'.
But let us not be churlish. This is, after all, the diplomatic equivalent of rearranging deckchairs on the Titanic. While the world's attention is fixed on the human rights abuses that Amnesty International so rudely keeps highlighting, Morocco's tourism board is busy promoting the region as a 'hidden gem'. Hidden indeed. Hidden behind a veil of authoritarian control, a place where journalists are persona non grata and critics find themselves on the wrong end of a travel ban to the very resort they sought to expose.
And what of the Sahrawi people, the original inhabitants of this sandy paradise? They are, I'm told, being offered a special discounted rate on camel rides through their own homeland. How generous. One can almost hear the PR spin: 'Come for the sun, stay for the systemic oppression.' It is a masterclass in public relations audacity. The government, with a straight face, invites tourists to witness the 'new, vibrant Western Sahara', conveniently forgetting to mention that the old, vibrant Western Sahara would have preferred self-determination to a five-star hotel.
But let's talk about the tour itself. According to official sources, visitors can expect a 'culturally enriching experience' featuring traditional music, local cuisine, and a guided tour of the area's 'economic development'. Translated from PR-speak, this means a piper at the gates of a phosphate mine, a diet of couscous and compliance, and a PowerPoint presentation on how many jobs have been created for the loyalist population. The few Sahrawi who remain are presumably there to serve as living props, their tents and traditions photogenically displayed for the benefit of Instagram influencers with no geopolitical qualms.
Of course, the human rights organisations are not amused. They have the temerity to point out that this tourism push is a smokescreen for deeper issues. But who cares about transparency when there is a new spa opening in Laâyoune? The government's logic is as clear as a desert mirage: if we can get enough tourists to post pictures of themselves smiling in the disputed territory, the UN will surely forget about the annual resolutions condemning our presence.
And so, the great Saharan safari begins. I, for one, am booking my ticket. I plan to pack a suitcase full of irony, a flask of duty-free gin, and a burning desire to report on the most surreal tourist trap in history. I shall take a selfie in front of the world's most heavily fortified resort, and caption it 'Having the time of my life in a zone of military occupation'. If I don't return, check the local prison cells. At least they might serve a decent tagine.
