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The author of this opinion, Chaimae Bourjij, is a 2019 alumna of the Atlantic Dialogues Emerging Leaders Program.
An election result tells only part of a country’s political story. The rules that turn votes into seats also shape which voices reach Parliament, how local interests are represented, and whether any party can claim a clear mandate. Morocco’s 2026 vote invites this wider reading: not only who came first, but how the electoral framework distributes political power and what this means for representation and accountability.
The Authenticity and Modernity Party (PAM) led with 97 seats, followed by the National Rally of Independents (RNI) with 66, Istiqlal with 65 and the Justice and Development Party (PJD) with 54. No party comes close to the 198 seats needed for a majority in the 395-seat House of Representatives. That is not merely the product of election night. It is also a consequence of how the electoral rules translate votes into seats.1
The distinction matters. Morocco elects 305 representatives through local constituencies and 90 through regional lists reserved for women. Since the 2021 reform, the electoral quotient has been calculated using the number of registered voters rather than votes actually cast. This design can make it harder for the largest party to turn a plurality of votes into a parliamentary majority and can spread seats among more parties. It does not predetermine every outcome, nor does it establish the full intention behind the reform. But fragmentation is not just a by-product of voter choice: it is a predictable institutional effect of the way representation is allocated.2
The PJD’s trajectory since the adoption of the 2011 Constitution illustrates the volatility of Morocco’s political field. It won 107 seats in 2011 and 125 in 2016, fell to 13 in 2021, then returned to 54 in 2026. The largest party also changed: the PJD led in 2011 and 2016, the RNI in 2021, and PAM in 2026. This is not a simple swing from Islamist to liberal parties or a clean ideological realignment. Rather, parties rise and fall and can rebuild their support within a parliamentary system that has not given any single party a majority. What, then, is this institutional pluralism meant to achieve, and what does it cost?
There is a democratic case for dispersing power
A Parliament that gives several parties a voice can prevent one electoral victory from becoming unchecked dominance and require governments to listen beyond their core constituencies. However, pluralism works best when parties offer voters recognizable choices and explain what they will defend in office. Policy differences are not necessarily irreconcilable; often, they concern priorities and instruments. In their 2026 platforms, for example, the RNI pledged one million jobs and a gradual increase in the minimum wage to 5,000 dirhams, while Istiqlal foregrounded purchasing power and public services such as healthcare, housing, water and food security.3 Those priorities can be negotiated in a coalition, but voters should be able to see how the partners reconcile them. Coalition compromise is not the problem; unexplained departures from campaign positions are.
When parties change course without explaining why, voters cannot tell what they stand for or who is responsible for the government’s choices.
A mapping of the 2026 results adds a territorial puzzle
A preliminary, non-official mapping classifies 222 of the 395 seats (about 56 per cent) as coming from predominantly rural constituencies, compared with 173, or 44 per cent, from urban constituencies.4 The 2024 census, by contrast, found that 62.8 per cent of Morocco’s population lived in urban areas and
37.2 per cent in rural areas.5 The contrast is striking, but it is not proof that rural voters are overrepresented. It compares a constituency classification with the population’s place of residence. It does not show the number of registered voters represented by each seat, turnout in each constituency, or the distribution of valid votes. An MP elected in a predominantly rural district is not necessarily a representative of rural interests alone.
The preliminary mapping places 63 of PAM’s 97 MPs and 40 of RNI’s 66 in predominantly rural constituencies, while 43 of PJD’s 54 are linked to urban ones. One hypothesis is that voters respond not only to party labels, but also to policies they believe will benefit their communities. PAM and RNI may gain rural support where constituents associate them with agricultural support, social assistance or investment in rural areas. Earlier research has found that some rural voters viewed PAM and RNI as more effective. Historically, PJD’s urban support has been linked to anti-corruption and anti-status-quo appeals.6 These are plausible explanations, not proof of why people voted as they did in 2026. Nor can the seat map show whether PJD’s religious identity was secondary to its perceived integrity; that would require direct evidence from voters.i
Participation is another part of the picture
The Interior Ministry reported turnout of about 38 per cent: roughly 6 million of the 15.8 million registered voters cast a ballot.7 Turnout in 2021 was about 50 per cent, but the comparison is imperfect because local and regional elections were held on the same day that year, which may have boosted participation.8 The national rate does not tell us which groups abstained or why; election figures alone cannot establish individual voters’ reasons for staying away.9 Low participation may reflect different experiences and calculations and should not be reduced to a single political message. Under electoral rules that can distribute seats among several parties, the question is not only how votes are divided, but whose preferences reach the ballot box and whose do not.
Fragmentation by design as a concept
In this context, the meaning of “fragmentation by design” remains open. It may be understood as a safeguard for pluralism: no single party can easily claim that a plurality entitles it to govern alone. It may also diffuse responsibility, weaken the link between a party’s program and public policy, and make it harder for voters to reward or punish those in power. The answer need not be to abolish pluralism or demand an artificially homogeneous government. It should be to make political choices more legible:
parties can state their ideological commitments, explain coalition compromises, publish shared priorities and accept clear responsibility for delivery. Electoral authorities should publish results detailed enough for citizens and researchers to assess how fairly votes are translated into seats.
If fragmentation is a feature of the system rather than an accident of the vote, what should Moroccans expect in return: broader representation and limits on political dominance, or a Parliament in which ideological differences are blurred and accountability is harder to establish?
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2 https://www.newarab.com/analysis/moroccos-2026-elections-explained-everything-you-need-know
4 https://article19.ma/accueil/archives/199087
8 https://thearabweekly.com/moroccos-turnout-divide-puts-southern-provinces-focus
i Testing these explanations depends on detailed data, not just national seat totals. The 222-173 urban vs. rural split is a non-official classification, not a statistic published by the Interior Ministry. Verifying it requires comparable figures for each constituency: population, registered voters, seats, turnout, valid and invalid ballots, and votes for each party, with the 90 regional lists reserved for women treated separately. These details can take time to assemble from constituency reports, and some may be delayed or unavailable in a consistent public format. Any resulting estimates should therefore be clearly labelled, with missing data identified. This is a question of transparency and the limits of analysis, not evidence of irregularity. Timely, complete, machine-readable results would help establish whether the pattern reflects constituency boundaries, turnout, local policy appeal or voters’ choices.
