The Syndrome of Fez: An Ontology of Space, Temporality, and Collective Resonance

Mohammed Hamdouni, a researcher in anthropology, reflects on his own encounter with the space of Fez as a regenerative space of emotions and possibilities.

There is an idea, perhaps not so often articulated, that the city of Fez is more than a historical relic or a living museum. Fez is an organism—a heartbeat, a network of arteries flowing through the medina. Its artisans are like the cells, tirelessly crafting life into the fabric of the city, while the architecture forms the bones and veins that sustain its energy. The spiritual centers act as the city's consciousness, infusing it with purpose and memory. To encounter Fez is to be absorbed by the web of relationships that stretch back centuries and continue to pulse in the present. This city does not merely exist; it breathes through the voices of artisans, the stones that have seen empires rise and fall, and the murmur of spiritual energies alive in the narrow alleys. This is what we call the Syndrome of Fez: the undeniable feeling that the city itself has a consciousness, a memory, and a soul that draws us into its timeless unfolding. This syndrome is not merely an observation—it is a psychological state, an emotional immersion that blurs the line between the individual and the city, creating a sense of profound connection that is both exhilarating and disorienting.

The Ritual of Medersas: Spiritual Anchors of Knowledge

The visit to the médersas of Fez becomes a ritual—a necessary pilgrimage to engage with their living presence. One must enter the venerable Sahridj, the melancholy mirroring of its cracked walls reflecting in the tarnished crystal of its pond. The Attarine, an ode to geometry and sacred light, invites one to pause before its vibrant mihrab of polychrome zéliges and behold the magnificent lamp that seems to carry echoes of forgotten prayers. It is said that in the vast Cherratine, constructed on the ruins of a profaned university, one might still sense the tremor of faith and resistance in its grandeur. And in the Mesbahia, we trace the legacy of marble brought from Algeciras, where Mesbah ben Abdallah interpreted the teachings of the Prophet to scholars who came from every distant corner of the East.

But the Syndrome of Fez isn’t merely a story of grand monuments. It is the experience of being enveloped by a pulse that flows through the walls of the Bou Inanya, the miraculous sanctuary that enraptured Leo Africanus with its austere beauty. The médersas of Fez are not relics; they are repositories of sacrality, alive with their own intent. The walls whisper in the language of zéliges, fountains, and courtyards—a language that evokes both beauty and moral coherence, connecting learners, pilgrims, and strangers in the architecture of the sacred. The Syndrome of Fez is the sensation of stepping into a sacred rhythm that links the past and present, the feeling that these places speak directly to one's soul, demanding presence and reflection.

Photo : Fez from above, Bruno Barbey

The Heart’s Reflection: "Fez is Mirror"

"Fez is a Mirror" the local proverb resonate here—the spiritual sight and the heart, central to the poetics of  space. This heart is no mere muscle but a center of consciousness, reflecting the city’s soul through its rhythms. The heart of Fez beats in response to the artisans at work, each piece, deliberately imperfect, becomes a profound reflection of their humanity. In their craft, we glimpse the deliberate imperfection—that gesture of humility before divinity, where the artisan leaves space for the sacred to enter. In this gesture, Fez reveals itself not as a work of perfection but as a reflection of the divine mystery—a simulation, perhaps, of something beyond the order of this world.

This syndrome emerges as a profound psychological state—the feeling that Fez, in its elaborate, imperfect beauty, holds up a mirror to our own humanity. One wonders if this syndrome is simply the state of seeing the world from a perspective that understands abstraction not as a detachment from reality, but as a mode of being within it—an understanding of existence that transcends the immediate and opens a path to experience the infinite through the finite. The craftsmen and builders of Fez seem to be constantly in dialogue with the circle and the square: the unity of the divine and the humanity within boundaries, a dialogue etched into every tiled mosaic and every carved frieze.

Beyond Human Democracy: Expanding Community to All Forms of Life

Can Fez, in its sacred breath, suggest a new democracy beyond the human? Here, the stone, the stream, the ivy growing on the ancient walls—they all seem to take part in the unfolding symphony of existence. This sense of participation forms the psychological core of the Syndrome of Fez—the feeling that everything within the city's boundaries has a role, a voice, and a presence. Could we, perhaps, redefine our notion of the human community to include not only people but also the non-human entities that share our earthly home—such as animals, plants, and even the stones and streams that shape our environment? Fez invites us to see beyond human concerns, suggesting that the city's pulse connects all beings—humans, animals, plants, and even the stones of its foundations. In Fez, the concept of dotation existentielle (an existential endowment, similar to the historical idea of the waqf—a system of charitable endowment that was central to Islamic culture. In Fez, the waqf did not only fund schools, libraries, and places of worship but also provided resources like public fountains for animals and various public amenities to serve the broader community. This system created a network of shared resources that supported communal and spiritual well-being for all forms of life, human and non-human alike) suggests an existential endowment shared by all forms of life. Could this be the foundation for a new kind of equality, one that extends beyond the human species?

In the Syndrome of Fez, there lies a tension: the city demands of us to see it fully, to feel the palpitation of its activity as a spiritual presence. This demand manifests as an almost overwhelming psychological pressure, a sense of needing to align oneself with the flow of history, architecture, and community. And yet, it compels us to question the criteria of equality. If consciousness is a criterion, what becomes of those who are less conscious? If freedom is essential, what then of those who are less free—human or otherwise? Fez, with its enigmatic beauty and its embracing of all forms of existence, pushes us to think of democracy not just as human governance, but as a communal life shared across forms and modes of being. The syndrome here is a deep-rooted need to expand our empathy, a psychological shift toward viewing all of existence as worthy of participation in this shared narrative.

The Sublime and the Immediate: A Reflection on Epiphany

The Syndrome of Fez also involves moments of profound epiphany. When the rays of the setting sun penetrate the latticework of a mashrabiya, or when a breeze rustles the ivy covering an ancient wall, one is reminded of the immediacy of the sublime. This sublime is not grandeur for grandeur's sake; it is the experience of beauty and grace in proximity, the perception of divine oneness that manifests through the mundane and the everyday. It is an invitation to understand unicité as something present in our experience of the world, a spiritual given accessible through our most immediate encounters. The syndrome manifests psychologically as an inability to detach from these moments—the epiphany stays with you, becoming part of your inner landscape.

The Syndrome as Invitation

The Syndrome of Fez is a call—a meditation on presence and continuity, on the unseen ties that bind the sacred and the mundane, the human and the more-than-human. It is an invitation to lose oneself in the labyrinthine alleys of the medina, in the reflective surfaces of fountains, and in the geometric dialogue of tilework. The syndrome is a reminder that Fez, far from being just a city, is a being unto itself, asking us to partake in its unfolding, to sense in its living architecture a democracy of souls—an openness to both immediacy and transcendence.

Fez resists the hyper-commodification of modern life through its creation of spaces for walking and slow, deliberate wandering. By encouraging a sense of stillness and contemplative movement, it produces an emptiness that fosters reflection. To experience Fez is to realize that we are always only passing through, visitors among spirits that persist long after our steps fade from its cobbled paths. And in that passing, there is a chance to glimpse, if only fleetingly, the profound abstraction that binds all things into the singular existence of this ancient city. The Syndrome of Fez is not just a condition of being overcome by a place; it is a psychological state of deep resonance and belonging, a recognition of our place in a world rich with histories and relationships, a world that continues to create itself through each of us, each day.

Mohammed HAMDOUNI 

Fez 2023