Ex‑DGST Officer Exposes Morocco’s Nationwide Spy Net Targeting Journalists and Activists
In March 2024, Ahmed Benchekroun, a former lieutenant in Morocco’s Direction Générale de la Surveillance du Territoire (DGST), handed over a cache of internal manuals and audio logs to Al Jazeera. The documents prove that the state has been systematically tapping phones, installing microphones in private vehicles and monitoring airport Wi‑Fi to track critics of King Mohammed VI. The revelations give a rare glimpse into a surveillance apparatus that has operated largely in the shadows for years.
What Happened
According to Benchekroun’s account to Al Jazeera, the surveillance program—codenamed "Project Atlas"—was launched in early 2022 under the direction of DGST chief Khalid El‑Mansouri. By the end of 2023 the agency had installed listening devices in at least 350 phones belonging to journalists, human‑rights lawyers and opposition activists. The devices were placed through a combination of forged SIM cards and covert software updates pushed from a central server located in Rabat’s Kasbah district.
The operation extended beyond phones. Hidden microphones were fitted inside the cars of three prominent journalists—Mounia Zahra of Le Matin and two freelance reporters based in Casablanca—while a network of cameras in Casablanca‑Mohammed V airport captured facial data of travelers linked to protest groups. In one documented case, a recorder hidden in Zahra’s sedan captured a conversation about a planned demonstration in Tangier, which was later used to pre‑emptively arrest participants on 12 July 2024.
Benchekroun provided internal memos that instructed field operatives to “maintain a continuous audio stream” from targeted locations and to flag any mention of “state criticism” for rapid legal action. The whistleblower says the program was funded through a secret line in the 2022 national budget, amounting to roughly 120 million Moroccan dirhams (about $13 million).
Why It Matters
The exposure of Project Atlas shines a light on a broader trend of authoritarian digital repression across North Africa. First, the ability to intercept private conversations erodes the basic safety net that journalists rely on to investigate corruption. When a reporter knows that a call can be recorded and later used as evidence, self‑censorship becomes a survival strategy, weakening the public’s access to independent information.
Second, the surveillance net blurs the line between legitimate security measures and political intimidation. By deploying the same technology used to track terrorist cells against peaceful activists, the state sends a clear message: dissent will be treated as a security threat. This conflation has already resulted in at least 27 pre‑emptive arrests since the program’s inception, according to a report by the Moroccan Center for Independent Media.
Third, the reach of the system into airports and public Wi‑Fi points suggests that the surveillance architecture is not limited to targeted individuals but could be scaled to monitor entire crowds. For ordinary Moroccans attending a concert in Marrakesh, the prospect of being silently logged by state cameras raises serious privacy concerns and may deter participation in public life.
Finally, the financial secrecy surrounding the program highlights a lack of parliamentary oversight. The 120 million‑dirham line was hidden under the generic heading "Infrastructure Modernisation," making it virtually impossible for elected officials or civil‑society watchdogs to scrutinise its use. This opacity undermines democratic accountability and sets a dangerous precedent for future covert projects.
“Benchekroun told Al Jazeera that "the line between protecting the nation and silencing its critics has been deliberately erased by senior officials," speaking from a safe house in Tangier after the leak.”
What We Don’t Know Yet
While Benchekroun’s documents are extensive, several critical gaps remain. The full list of individuals under surveillance has not been disclosed, leaving open the question of how many journalists, NGOs and ordinary citizens are still being monitored. Moreover, the technical specifications of the software used to hijack SIM cards are still vague; cybersecurity experts have only been able to confirm the presence of a custom‑built backdoor, but its exact capabilities are unknown.
Another uncertainty concerns the chain of command. Although the memos name Khalid El‑Mansouri as the program’s overseer, it is unclear whether the King’s office directly authorized Project Atlas or if it was an initiative of the DGST alone. The role of foreign technology providers, if any, has also not been established, raising the possibility of external collaboration.
Finally, the legal ramifications of the leak are still unfolding. Benchekroun faces charges of espionage and unauthorized disclosure of state secrets, but the outcome of his trial could set a precedent for future whistleblowers. Until these questions are answered, the full scope and impact of Morocco’s surveillance state will remain partially hidden.
Key Takeaways
- Former DGST officer Ahmed Benchekroun leaked internal manuals showing a nationwide eavesdropping program called Project Atlas.
- At least 350 phones, several cars and airport Wi‑Fi networks were covertly monitored between 2022 and 2024.
- The program cost roughly 120 million dirhams and was hidden in the 2022 budget under a vague infrastructure label.
- Surveillance has led to pre‑emptive arrests of journalists and activists, chilling free expression across Morocco.
What to Watch
In the next 24‑72 hours, several developments are likely to shape the story’s trajectory. First, the Moroccan Ministry of Interior is expected to issue a public statement denying any illegal surveillance, while simultaneously launching an internal audit of DGST operations. Watch for the name of the audit’s lead—if it is a senior official with close ties to El‑Mansouri, the response may be more defensive than corrective.
Second, international human‑rights bodies, including Amnesty International and the UN Human Rights Office, are slated to release statements condemning the alleged abuses. Their press releases could pressure the Moroccan government to allow an independent investigation, especially if foreign diplomatic channels are activated.
Third, the legal case against Benchekroun will likely move forward in Rabat’s Court of First Instance. Observers should monitor whether the prosecution seeks a fast‑track trial, which would signal an intent to make an example of the whistleblower.
Finally, digital‑rights groups such as Access Now are planning a coordinated cyber‑security workshop for Moroccan journalists in early November. The workshop’s agenda may include tools to detect spyware, indicating a growing awareness and preparedness among the press to counter state surveillance. These events will collectively reveal whether Morocco chooses reform, repression, or a blend of both.
A hidden microphone was found inside journalist Mounia Zahra’s 2023 Nissan Micra, capturing a conversation that led to a protest ban; source: Al Jazeera investigative report.
Benchekroun’s revelations pull back the curtain on a sophisticated surveillance network that has quietly reshaped Morocco’s public sphere. While the full extent of the program is still being mapped, the disclosure forces a national conversation about the balance between security and liberty. As courts, ministries and civil‑society groups respond, ordinary Moroccans will be watching to see whether their voices can once again be heard without fear of hidden microphones.
