On May 19, 2026, Aziz Akhannouch did something he'd never done before. The 64-year-old Prime Minister, who has spent five years largely avoiding direct engagement with the Moroccan public, posted a long video on every social media platform he could find. Facebook. Instagram. TikTok. YouTube. The message: "Look at everything I've done for you."

The timing wasn't accidental. Four months before Morocco's most consequential election in a decade, with his approval ratings in the gutter, Akhannouch is trying to control the narrative. But the response from ordinary Moroccans was brutal — memes, mockery, and a flood of comments about hospital deaths, desalination contracts, and empty promises.

And that's only half the story. While the video was rolling, Akhannouch's government was quietly pushing through a new electoral law that critics say is designed to rig the game in his party's favor.

The Video: A Masterclass in Selective Memory

The video, reportedly produced by a professional marketing team, highlighted what Akhannouch considers his biggest achievements: new hospitals (9 CHUs, 3,000 health centers, 49 regional hospitals), infrastructure projects, and Morocco's growing international profile. He talked about health sector reform, social protection, and economic resilience.

What he didn't mention: the eight pregnant women who died in public hospitals. The desalination contract awarded to his own company. The Gen Z 212 protests. The corruption scandals. The fact that the Health Minister was his former employee.

TikTok user @telquelofficiel summed it up in a video about Akhannouch's post: "Il esquive certaines choses" — he's dodging certain things. The understatement of the year.

The comments sections across all platforms tell a different story from the one Akhannouch wanted to tell. Moroccans responded with screenshots of hospital conditions, clips from the Gen Z protests, and questions about when the $15 billion health pledge would actually translate into better care.

The Electoral Law: Stacking the Deck

While Akhannouch was busy polishing his image online, his government submitted a controversial new electoral law to parliament. Alestiklal newspaper ran the story under a headline that asked a question on every opposition politician's mind: "What Is Akhannouch Trying to Hide?"

The law introduces new restrictions on campaign financing, modifies constituency boundaries, and tightens rules around candidate eligibility. On paper, it sounds like anti-corruption reform. In practice, critics say it's designed to disadvantage smaller parties and independent candidates — the very groups that could capitalize on the RNI's unpopularity.

Opposition parties have warned that the law threatens the "integrity of the 2026 parliamentary elections." The PJD called it a "power grab." The PAM questioned why a government with single-digit approval ratings is trying to change election rules months before a vote.

Morocco's political left is particularly worried. A fresh split within left-wing parties, reported by Hespress in March, has fractured the opposition just when it needs to be united. A divided left and a restrictive electoral law? That's a recipe for maintaining the status quo.

The $700 Million Elephant in the Room

On April 23, 2026 — less than five weeks before Akhannouch's PR video — Morocco inaugurated the Mohammed VI Tower in Rabat. The rocket-shaped skyscraper cost $700 million. It's the tallest building in Morocco and one of the tallest in Africa, with a Waldorf Astoria hotel, luxury residences, and panoramic views.

The government presented it as a symbol of Morocco's global ambitions. The opposition called it something else: a $700 million monument to misplaced priorities.

When Gen Z 212 protesters chanted "We don't want the World Cup. We want health care first," they could have easily substituted "skyscraper" for "World Cup." The tower opened the same year Morocco's public hospitals are still struggling to provide basic care. The same year eight women died in childbirth. The same year the government says it needs to change election rules to "ensure integrity."

The contrast is so stark it writes itself.

What the Numbers Actually Say

Akhannouch's video boasts about 9 new university hospitals and 3,000 health centers. Let's look closer.

Morocco's BTI Transformation Index 2026 report offers a more sobering assessment. It notes that the 2023 earthquake exposed massive corruption in reconstruction contracts. It highlights persistent conflicts of interest — "notably, Prime Minister Aziz Akhannouch's fuel company." It describes a government that talks reform while maintaining a system designed to protect insiders.

The new hospitals Akhannouch touts? Many are understaffed. Morocco has about 30 health professionals per 10,000 residents — well below World Health Organization recommendations. Building facilities without staffing them is like buying a car with no engine.

The Real Question: Does Any of This Work?

Akhannouch's PR offensive is a gamble. He's betting that a polished video, some new hospitals, and a restrictive electoral law can overcome the damage of five years of corruption scandals, youth protests, and broken promises.

But here's the thing about Moroccan voters in 2026: they have phones. They have TikTok. They saw the video of the woman bleeding on the hospital gurney. They know who owns the desalination plant. They remember what happened when they took to the streets last October.

You can change the electoral law. You can produce a slick video. You can open a $700 million skyscraper. But you can't un-teach a generation that they have power. And on September 23, they get to prove it.