Introduction
“I write to you from afar, in a kind of parabolic displacement of continents—as a maritime breath which transcends my nationality.”
—Abdelkébir Khatibi, A Letter Without a Recipient[1]
In January of this year, as I was in the midst of writing this essay, American Special Forces took part in an astounding operation that resulted in the deposition of now former president of Venezuela Nicolas Maduro. Charged with “narcoterrorism”—a bewildering portmanteau of two terms which belong to the lexicon of pseudoscholarship—Maduro and his wife have now resided in the Metropolitan Detention Center in New York for the past 3 months, awaiting a trial which will undoubtedly be a parody of the delivery of justice. While the United States itself has a long history of military intervention in Latin America, the indictment and kidnapping of a sovereign head-of-state is historically unprecedented and represents a sharp inflection point in the accelerating collapse of the neoliberal world order in which the illusion of diplomacy has been shattered by the harshness of material reality: that disagreements between nation-states are not adjudicated through shared interest, reciprocity, and collaboration but by who has the bigger army. Today, with the United States’ War on Iran concluding its second month with no clear end in sight, it has become all the more apparent that war itself has left the realm of political theatre and entered the domain of fiat, in which justification, whether by way of a mission civilisatrice or its more recent historical transformations of “The War on Terror” or “spreading democracy,” have become irrelevant in comparison to the ability to simply wage it. In that manner, it is now more than ever that it is incumbent upon us as humanists, artists, and historical scientists to mobilize the energy of the South to conceptualize new horizons of struggle against state powers that seek to homogenize, elaborate, dominate, and humiliate as opposed to heterogenize, fragment, and incomplete.
In 1970, the Institute of Sociology was shut down by the Moroccan state as a part of a broader crackdown on intellectual life in the country. At the time, the head of the Institute was Moroccan sociologist, literary critic, novelist, and poet Abdelkébir Khatibi. Born in El Jadida in 1938, Khatibi completed his undergraduate studies in Morocco before leaving the country to complete his doctoral studies in sociology at the Sorbonne under Albert Memmi. He completed his studies in 1965 before returning to Morocco and serving as the director of the Institute of Sociology from 1966 until its closure, after which we see a marked change in the works present in his oeuvre. After the institute was shut down, Khatibi continued to publish works on sociology. He, for example (and perhaps not coincidentally), published Pouvoir et administration: études sur les élites maghrébines [Power and Administration: Studies on the Maghrebi Elite] in 1970, and Études sociologiques sur le Maroc [Sociological Studies Regarding Morocco] in 1971. However, he also began to publish works of fiction, autobiography, as well as political essays, such as Vomito Blanco, and On Precolonial Hierarchy (1970), a comparative study of Marxist and Khaldunian sociology. We see, during this period, the beginnings of the thinking that would lay the groundwork for some of Khatibi’s most celebrated works of literary criticism, as well as most provocative scholarly contributions in the field of post/decolonial theory. This is partially due to, I think, the fact that during this watershed moment of Khatibi’s life, in order to write these works, he was forced to look elsewhere. Given the repressive nature of the Moroccan state during the time in which Khatibi was producing these works, all of the aforementioned books were published in France with a number of different publishers, whether with magazines or publishing houses. Beyond the practical concern of finding a home for his work, this period, I think, was also a time where looking elsewhere was not simply a logistical concern but a directional one—a time where he was searching for another way of thinking and being that would escape both the intellectual legacy of the West and Arab-Islamic traditionalism that characterized much of Maghrebi academia.
In this essay, I should like to argue that Khatibi found this other thought not in the Arab World, or Europe, but in Latin America, and that he conceptualized the relationship between Latin America and the Maghreb as a matter not of contradiction but of translation. While some work has appeared in the past ten years in the anglosphere on Khatibi’s description of the relationship between Spain and Morocco as a “traumatic chiasmus”[2], as well as the need to think with and through that trauma, little to no work has been done on how Khatibi understands Latin America’s connection to the Maghreb. A thorough, exhaustive investigation of Khatibi’s reading of Latin American literature and thought is beyond the scope of this essay, but I would like to, by way of an inquiry into his lesser-read works, position him not as a powerhouse of postcolonial criticism but in fact on the contrary. To not center his work but to think beyond language of elaboration and centrality and disregard notions of self-sufficiency in favor of a way of reading Khatibi’s work that places him on the margin of a plurality of intellectual, literary, and disciplinary traditions. I will, likewise, ground this essay’s argument first in a discussion of the theoretical framework underlying Khatibi’s conceptualization of the relationship between Latin America and the Maghreb, as well as the Maghrebi rediscovery of Arab Spain through Latin America. Then, I will move to develop this framing through an exploration of a few incredibly rich notes on Khatibi’s part with regards to the ways in which the Maghreb can benefit from dialogue with other Southern scholars in other parts of the Tricontinent, arguing that Khatibi’s concept of double critique (the call to critique both the West’s intellectual legacy and Arab-Islamic traditionalism) was influenced by a visit to Caracas in the late 1970s. Lastly, I will conclude with a turn to a letter Khatibi wrote in honor of Venezuelan sociologist Jeannette Abouhamad (the only work of his to appear exclusively in Spanish), as well as with a call on us Maghrebis to think of this constant translation between Latin America and the Maghreb not as a moment of loss or lack but rather, as a life-affirming horizon for thought.
“A Traumatic Chiasmus:” The Rediscovery of Arab Spain through Latin America
“A specter haunts the Conquistadors…of the Moor and of his brother in destiny: the African.
-–Bouazza Benachir, The Tango of the Globalizers of a Desert
In May of 1984, Khatibi attended a conference in Ronda, Spain, where he gave a lecture entitled “Beyond Trauma: Morocco/Spain (In Search of Lost Paradise).”[3] The conference, which was attended by the likes of Adonis, Juan Goytisolo, Abdelwahhab Meddeb, and other select Spanish and Arab writers who sought to “ask the questions that they feel must be addressed before Arab and Spanish intercultural debates can be renewed.”[4] Khatibi, just as the title of his lecture suggests, seeks to understand how Moroccans and Spaniards can think of the relationship between their two countries beyond the trauma of the Reconquista which produces “two ruptures: that of the Arab defeat and of Catholic Spain with its historical and cultural continuity.”[5]
In his recent study of nostalgia in the work of Moroccan writers Abdellatif Laâbi, Abdelkébir Khatibi, and Mohammed Khaïr-Eddine, Khalid Lyamlahy, assistant professor of French and Francophone studies at the University of Chicago, argues in Nostalgic Rebels that Khatibi’s advocacy for an overcoming of trauma, resentment, and denial on both sides of the Spanish-Moroccan chiasmus culminated in a call for a “transnational and intercultural mode of writing through and beyond nostalgia [par la nostalgie et au-delà].”[6] While some scholars have been rightfully critical of the convenient invocation of Andalusian convivencia, such as in the case of the fascist Franco government, which used the memory of Al-Andalus to justify colonial projects,[7][8] Khatibi here, instead, seeks to draw from the Nietzschean philosophical grounding of his decolonial project to imagine, through and beyond nostalgia, a world in which Maghrebi thinking about Al-Andalus is not resentful or compensatory—to imagine a mode of writing that says Yes to both the historical reality of the Arab defeat and Catholic Spain. In that manner, Khatibi criticizes the of thinking of Al-Andalus exclusively as a lost paradise insofar as “for Arabs and for the Spanish, what constitutes the power of the unforgotten is not exactly the remembrance of a loss…But rather it’s the unthought-of traces of trauma that unceasingly return, even today.”[9] We should take note of Khatibi’s diction here, it is not exactly the remembrance of a loss. That is not to say that the end of Al-Andalus did not constitute a loss, but rather that it is just a loss in a literary tradition, where nostalgia, “mourning over the ruins”(wuquf ‘ala al-atlal),[10] and taking pleasure in reconstituting paradise has been a part of its memories for centuries. The issue, then, is not the existence of these songs, but instead the necessity of writing other songs. Simultaneously, this call to write other songs about the traumatic chiasmus of Morocco and Spain is complicated by the fact that “we return to a different Spain, which has been globalized for centuries, and whose destiny requires us to think about a parallel afterlife beyond ruins.”[11] Likewise, Khatibi moves to argue that this Spain, one that exists beyond trauma, “also goes by the name of Latin America,”[12] befitting of the scope necessitated by the fact that Spain has become for us an aesthetic experience as opposed to a historical one. And, I should like to add an aesthetic experience that for Arabic literature in the late 20th-century, hasn’t returned “through Spain—or hardly at all—but through Latin America.”[13] Khatibi himself cites the example of Borges, who reintroduced the story of Al-Andalus into world literature through his writing of A Universal History of Infamy, which led Khatibi to write his play The Veiled Prophet.
Latin America, then, for Khatibi is not just an abstract aesthetic connection within a traumatic rupture but a tangible site of South-South contact between Latin American and Maghrebi literature (as well as Arabic literature more broadly) that is at work even in his own oeuvre. As for other examples, he even cites Lezama Lima as having been an inspiration for his interest in mythological depth, and the fact that the first part of Amour bilingue ends with a song by Juan Carlos Núñez printed entirely in Spanish.[14] On the other hand, I would be remiss to not mention that Khatibi’s literary project, as I have yet to explicate this throughline in my reasoning up to this point, is simultaneously a poetic project (in the sense that many of its questions belong not to the realm of philosophy but of poiesis) as well as a political one—one which is strongly influenced by both Nietzsche’s pluralistic moral philosophy as well as Fanonian Decolonial Humanism.[15] His invocations of ressentiment, denial, and thinking through and beyond trauma are a part of, a point that in his lecture is not explicated but at once present, his work on the self-overcoming that is the perennial project of the postcolonial subject across the world.[16]
On Latin American Influence on Khatibi’s Decoloniality
During the “Years of Lead,” a period of intense political repression, especially of intellectuals, in Morocco that roughly aligned with the reign of King Hassan II, multiple journals appeared hoping to address the concerns of Moroccans. Some, like Souffles, began with a focus on Arts and Culture before delving into discussions of Moroccan political economy, leading to the magazine being shut down in the early 1970s. In addition to Souffles, however, another publication emerged named Lamalif, which ran between 1966 and 1988 and became the longest running francophone journal in the country. Like Souffles, Khatibi would contribute to Lamalif multiple times, and the interviews and pieces that he contributed are our best insight into how he conceptualized Morocco’s relationship with Latin America, as well as how that thinking appeared in his decolonial project.
Over a decade before the conference in Ronda, in 1973, Khatibi sat down with Zakya Daoud to discuss his experience attending an international sociology conference in Caracas, Venezuela. He was the only African sociologist present at the conference, and returned from the conference “with profound insights about sociology and also about the problems of the Third World and South America.”[17] Admittedly, much of the content of his criticism in We Must Attempt a Lasting Double Critique, is essentially what would later become the content of Plural Maghreb, his magnum opus, such as retreating from metaphysics in Maghrebi thought, the necessity of a double critique of both the West’s intellectual legacy and our own Arab-Islamic tradition, and the decolonization of sociology. However, a rhetorical throughline is how the intellectual liberation struggles of these two peoples, Moroccan and Venezuelan, are inextricably tied. The conference was about Southern sociology very broadly, but was also very political. In terms of his own understanding of the discipline, Khatibi’s attendance confirmed what he terms “the failure of functionalism in understanding the countries of the third world.”[18] That is to say, the same methods produced by Western sociology are inadequate to the extent that they do not deal directly enough with the circumstances of oppressed societies. To solidify this example, Khatibi brings up an example of a Moroccan sociologist using a concept from Khaldunian sociology, assabiya, which relies on a cyclical, non-dialectal conception of history, in the context of a society that has a different conception of history, such as in the case of a society that wants to be dialectical, but isn’t yet. A critical disciplinary problem in the course of the decolonization of sociology, Marxist sociologists in the Maghreb sought for years to reconcile Khaldunian rationality with Marxist dialectics. The subject of an essay which would later be published in Maghreb pluriel, many had sought to either constitute Ibn Khaldun as an early progenitor of Marxist sociology (by positioning him as an early theorist of the labor-theory of value) or by placing him in an entirely distinct school of sociological thought, this interview with Daoud serves as a foreshadowing of a radical insight on Khatibi’s part: that many southern sociologists understood the differences between these two traditions of critique as a matter of contradiction instead of translation, leading either to proposed genealogies that amounted to anachronism or willful applications of decontextualized concepts that amounted to epistemological violence. This intellectual challenge, what Khatibi has in other places called “projective behaviors[comportements projectives]” amongst Moroccan scholars, is a fundamental problem not just in sociology as a discipline, but in post/decolonial thought more broadly. Instead, he calls for Moroccan intellectuals to analyze other societies “where they are”[la ou il-est].[19]
This leads Khatibi to discuss the differences between the challenges faced by sociologists in Latin America vs. the Maghreb. Namely, that sociology was much more well-established in Latin America, whereas sociology in the Maghreb was still very much dependent on French academia. Or, that, for example, in Latin America, there are sociologists who are politicians, or even sociologists who engage in guerilla warfare and use their knowledge within the context of armed struggle, albeit he notes that that is an extreme case. Nevertheless, regardless of context, Khatibi maintains a throughline throughout the course of the essay—the necessity to transform the immense potential of the Tricontinent into a double critique of both the West’s intellectual legacy as well as the precolonial hierarchies of one’s own society. A part of the attempt of a lasting double critique, however, for Khatibi, is rejecting elaborative tendencies and theological thinking in all traditions, what Khatibi calls in this interview with Daoud the “breaking with the metaphysical circle.”[20] And a part of breaking this metaphysical circle, I think, is recognizing that Khatibi’s thinking about Latin America and the Maghreb should not be thought of as a matter of contradiction but rather of translation. Three-years prior to the publication of the interview with Daoud, Khatibi published the first part of what would later become his famed essay “Double Critique” as published in Plural Maghreb in 1983. This essay, called On precolonial hierarchy,[21] is immensely illuminating when put into conversation with We Must Attempt A Lasting Double Critique in the sense that it serves as a kind of theoretical staging-ground for many of the insights and comments that Khatibi makes during his conversation with Daoud. Four years after On Precolonial Hierarchy, as well as one year after We Must Attempt a Lasting Double Critique, Khatibi published the second part of his essay entitled Decolonization of Sociology which also echoes many of the same insights garnered from Khatibi’s visit to Caracas.
The Bibliographie de l’oeuvre de Abdelkébir Khatibi, compiled by colleague of Khatibi Said Nejjar, is one of the most comprehensive bibliographies of not just works by, as well as about, Khatibi up to the year 2001, encapsulating almost the entirety of his published work.[22] The reference is organized by genre, beginning with his works of literature and essays, before then moving on to discuss his collaborative works, articles, and finally, university dissertations and articles that include his work. The bibliography also includes an entire portion dedicated to his works translated into, or appearing exclusively in, Arabic (although he never wrote in Arabic), speaking to how important it was for Khatibi that his ideas were to change the intellectual currents of the Arab world. One notes, as they make their way through the bibliography, that all of Khatibi’s thinking about Latin America, as well as Arab Spain, seems to take place after 1973—after his visit to Caracas. Additionally, four years after his visit to Ronda, Khatibi published Andalucias,[23] a project that included an introduction by Juan Goytisolo (a close friend of Khatibi), texts by Khatibi, as well as screen prints by renowned Hispanic and Arab artists such E. Arroyo, F. Belkahia, Mohammed Chebaa, L.R. Gordillo, and Mohammed Kacimi. The texts were also presented in three languages (Arabic, Spanish, and French), and the screen prints produced by these artists were displayed, alongside the texts, at the Marsam Gallery in Rabat in 1988, and later at the University of Seville in 1992.
Considering Khatibi’s thinking about Latin America making way for the rediscovery of Arab Spain was profound enough to merit the writing of a project of this magnitude, I can not help but suspect that the theoretical jump made between the two chapters of Double Critique, On Precolonial Hierarchy (1970) and Decolonization of Sociology (1974), was made possible by Khatibi’s visit to Caracas in 1973. Additionally, it is of note that We Must Attempt a Lasting Double Critique is, within Khatibi’s oeuvre, one of the first calls to his concept of a double critique in a non-Maghrebi decolonial context. The influence of this concept in Khatibi’s thinking is immense, and, I think, colors the rest of the development of his postcolonial criticism that characterized much of his late work. Seven years after the publication of Double Critique, in 1981, Khatibi would publish Other Thought, the fullest expression of his concept of double critique not just as a constant practice, but as the beginning of the chance of thought—a mode of thinking that exists outside of the political discourses of its time. The essay, a striking work of prose poetry that is required reading for anyone hoping to understand Khatibi’s thinking, notes that a necessary future step in the process of intellectual decolonization is to find “something else”—an “other thought” which exists on a margin on alert, outside of the intellectual legacy of the West or the, at times, elaborative tendencies of our Arab-Islamic tradition. I don’t think it brash to say, then, that the other thought—the insurgent force which animated the production of this essay—was not to be found in the Arab world, or Europe, or even Africa, but Latin America.
“The Living Poem of Caracas:” Latin America and the Maghreb as a Horizon for Thought
“I would also like to celebrate this light that, in the heart of the night, continues to illuminate the living poem of Caracas.”
—Abdelkébir Khatibi, A Letter Without a Recipient
When Venezuelan sociologist Jeannette Abouhamad died in 1984, a group of scholars joined together to assemble a collection of essays honoring her life, work, and legacy. The work, entitled “The Human Sciences: International Homage to Jeannette Abouhamad ”[Las Ciencias de lo humano: homenaje internacional a Jeannette Abouhamad],” was published in Caracas, six years later. The collection includes contributions from a number of Latin American authors, like Rafel Caldera and Teolínda Bolivar. Incidentally, the piece includes a contribution from Khatibi that is both, perhaps literally (in the sense that it is not an academic work) and metaphorically out of place. The piece that Khatibi contributed, “A Letter without a Recipient” [Carta sin Destinario], which was written in May 1984,[24] a few weeks before his visit to Spain, is a broad reflection that encompasses the beauty of Caracas (what he calls a “living poem”), the specific meaning of vacilar in Venezuelan Spanish, the sensory and inspirational qualities inspired within him by the word Maracaibo (which he says opens within him “an unknown world that is present in some part of my emblematic imaginary”), and bittersweet reminiscences with regards to his friendship with Abouhamad, amongst other notes.
A Letter without a Recipient is unique within Khatibi’s oeuvre for several reasons. Firstly, according to Nejjar,[25] it never appeared in the original French, making it the only one of Khatibi’s works to appear solely in Spanish. Secondly, it is the only work in which Khatibi writes at length about his travels to Latin America, and is likewise rich with metaphor, symbolism, and eloquent poetic language that makes immediately apparent the profound impact that this experience, as well as friendship with Abouhamad, had on his work. As for their friendship, admittedly, we know very little. We do know that, for example, they were both doctoral students at the Sorbonne’s sociology department around the same time, albeit their overlap was only about two years (Khatibi defended in 1965, and Abouhamad in 1969).[26] We also know that, despite being at a French university, both decided to write about their countries of origin. Khatibi’s doctoral dissertation was about the Maghrebi novel, which he did under Albert Memmi, while Abouhamad’s was entitled “The Men of Venezuela: Their Dreams, Their Needs.”[27] Finally, while per Lamalif, we know for a fact that Khatibi visited Venezuela at least once, we also know that Abouhamad ended up serving as President of the International Sociological Association the year right before her death. Whether her tenure ultimately led to an invitation to Khatibi to attend, however, is unclear.
Towards the end of A Letter, Khatibi admits “I haven't mentioned Jeannette Abouhamad's sociological work. No doubt others have taken upon themselves this useful and necessary task.”[28] What makes this admission so fascinating is that, well, all of whom have read Khatibi as well as Abouhamad’s work know that he almost certainly contributed an academic piece about her scholarship. Psychoanalysis, for example, figured prominently both in Khatibi’s oeuvre (especially around the time that he wrote this piece) and Abouhamad’s, and both were interested in the legacy of colonialism, amongst other shared interests. Yet, I think, as I hope I have demonstrated in this essay, that it would also be wrong to say that he never wrote about her work. Khatibi’s friendship with Abouhamad, as well as how deeply he cherished it, is manifest in all the ways he has written about Latin America, in the shared struggle of all peoples from oppressed countries, and finally, even in the way he thinks about the Maghreb.
Conclusion
In this essay, I have argued that Khatibi’s engagement with Latin American thought over the course of a decade, as well as how he understood the relationship between Latin America and the Maghreb, was primarily dictated by two distinct intellectual axes. Firstly, that Khatibi’s understanding of Latin America’s connection to the Maghreb was inextricably tied to the “traumatic chiasmus” caused by the fall of Arab Spain and the Reconquista, arguing that in modern Arabic literature, the rediscovery of Arab Spain did not take place through Morocco or even Spain, but Latin America, solidifying this connection with an example from his own creative work. Secondly, Khatibi’s understanding of the connection between Latin America was also necessarily a connection founded on solidarity–on the fact that both the countries of Latin America and Africa, as well as the Ttricontinent more broadly, were engaged in a shared struggle to decolonize themselves. This lens, I argue, is exemplified by the influence that discussions on the decolonization of sociology had on the development of the second part of Khatibi’s renowned essay Double Critique, later going on to be one of the crowning achievements of his legacy within post/decolonial theory more broadly. Finally, I concluded with a brief meditation on Khatibi’s friendship with Jeanette Abouhamad, a Venezuelan sociologist whose memory he speaks of with immense warmth that points to, while admittedly a speculation, the idea that these insights about the relationship between Khatibi and Latin America did not exist in a vacuum, but were rather a part of a decades long friendship between two scholars who were dedicated to not the just the practice of thinking about their homelands, but changing them. While this piece exists as merely an inquiry into the ways in which Khatibi’s intellectual trajectory grew with and through his engagement with Latin American thought (perhaps, one could even say, that Latin America was for him a horizon for thought) , in terms of future study, a comparative study of Abouhamad and Khatibi’s work could certainly be of interest to students not just of postcolonial theory, but also psychoanalysis and sociology. Additionally, a more comprehensive intellectual genealogy of how Khatibi’s thinking about Latin America developed through his relationships with Abouhamad and Goytisolo is also long overdue.
Bibliography:
Abouhamad, Jeannette, Briceño-León, Roberto, Erika Wagner, and Teolinda Bolívar. 1989. Las Ciencias De Lo Humano : Homenaje Internacional a Jeannette Abouhamad. Caracas, Venezuela : Asociación Venezolana de Sociología : Fundación Jeannette Abouhamad : Fundación Fondo Editorial Acta Científica Venezolana.
Abouhamad, Jeannette. 1980. Los Hombres de Venezuela : Sus Necesidades, Sus Aspiraciones. 2a ed. Caracas: Universidad Central de Venezuela, Facultad de Ciencias Económicas y Sociales, División de Publicaciones.
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LYAMLAHY, KHALID. Nostalgic Rebels: Politics, Aesthetics, and Selfhood in Postcolonial Morocco. Liverpool University Press, 2025. https://doi.org/10.2307/jj.21275906.
Miller, Nathaniel (2024). The Emergence of Arabic Poetry: From Regional Identities to Islamic Canonization. University of Pennsylvania Press. ISBN 978-1-5128-2531-2.
Nejjar, Saïd. 2001. Bibliographie de l’œuvre de Abdelkébir Khatibi. Rabat : Université Mohammed V: Souissi, Institut universitaire de la recherche scientifique.
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Talbayev, Edwige Tamalet, 'Andalusia as Trauma: The Legacies of Convivencia', The Transcontinental Maghreb: Francophone Literature across the Mediterranean (New York, NY, 2017; online edn, Fordham Scholarship Online, 18 Jan. 2018), https://doi.org/10.5422/fordham/9780823275151.003.0003, accessed 27 Nov. 2025.