Is it still plausible to see Morocco as an exception? Thrown into turmoil by the Arab spring, the kingdom has taken great care to promote this notion, while remaining cautiously on the sidelines of the changes rocking the Arab world.

Unlike Tunisia there is no controversy about Islamist policies here. Nor has Jordanian-style popular unrest sought to oust the monarchy. On 18 November only a handful of militants gathered outside parliament to demand a cut in the royal budget, estimated at about $300m. A year after the general election that brought the Islamist Justice and Development party (PJD) to power for the first time, Morocco is still keeping a low profile in the Arab world.

"Nothing whatsoever is going on," says the PJD minister of higher education, Lahcen Daoudi, with a laugh, as if it were proof of success. But such inertia is beginning to irritate people in Morocco.

A referendum in July 2011 approved a set of 20 reforms designed to establish a new constitution. But since it assembled last January the new parliament has only managed to vote one of them into law. No attempt has been made to encourage widespread debate, no major reform programme has been launched despite a difficult economic climate, with almost 30% unemployment among young people and a quarter of the population lacking welfare coverage. Perhaps this year was a just warm-up round for the government and monarchy, a "blank year", as people put it. But the approval ratings of the prime minister, Abdelilah Benkirane, have barely wavered.

In power for the first time, after years in opposition, the Islamists were keen to gain the acceptance of the electorate and King Mohammed VI, whose supremacy they had never contested. "We have taken this line since the 1990s," says a PJD leader who did not wish to be named. "We would rather avoid conflict; this is the only way to bring about reform."

No sooner did the government announce plans to tighten up the rules for state television broadcasting – excluding news bulletins in French from prime time and imposing the call to prayer five times a day – than the project was reframed under royal pressure, with the news in French reinstated. But the bill to reform the kafala, a procedure for adopting children specific to Muslim law that bans full adoption and now excludes foreigners not resident in Morocco, was passed without much fuss.

The king sets the tempo, chairing cabinet meetings and setting priorities. The next fundamental changes to be tabled concern establishing a National Council on Languages and Moroccan Culture – bringing recognition of Amazigh, the Berber tongue – and setting up regions, of particular relevance to the disputed Western Sahara.

A subtle distribution of labour has emerged between the Makhzen (the royal council) and the executive voted into power. It would suit the monarchy if the government – which only includes one woman, the women and family minister Bassima Hakkaoui – were to succeed, but without too much help on its part. The ruling Islamists intend to stay in power and are prepared to take their time. So every effort is made to smooth over any tension.

"Everyone thought the situation was stable, but that isn't the case: we're still looking for a new, more democratic approach," says Ali Bouabid, one of the leaders of the opposition Socialist Union of Popular Forces (UFSP). "Debate on fundamental laws is just as important as the constitution," he adds. "However, allowance must be made for royal customs … for shifts in public opinion, a new factor in Morocco, and the hopes and frustration stirred up by the Arab spring."

Such measured tones, altogether sincere when it comes to the shaky economy, nevertheless conceal fierce rivalry. No one mentions the word cohabitation, but in practice that is what is happening. Although the new constitution paves the way for a separation of powers, the king still controls all the key areas of public life. At the beginning of October he led a 300-strong delegation on a tour of the Gulf, returning with the promise of $5bn in investments, but the ministers who took part had no say in talks. "In many ways the government prefers to carry on just managing current affairs," says Bouabid.

The king's advisers, officially 24 in number, are increasingly visible, even in the media. Various figures close to the court have been appointed to the new bodies set up or reformed by the constitution. Driss Jettou, a former prime minister (2002-7), now heads the Court of Auditors. Chakib Benmoussa, a former interior minister, is in charge of the Economic and Social Council. In March 2011 the human rights campaigner Driss El Yazami, previously head of the Council of the Moroccan Community Abroad, was appointed to run the National Human Rights Council. The PJD has had no say in all the other appointments, supposedly under government control. "There should have been some controversy on this matter, but nothing happened," says Khadija Ryadi, the head of the Moroccan Human Rights Association (AMDH). "We're almost back to square one. The constitution is wholly theoretical, but has had an appeasing effect. It's not enough, but it worked."

"There are clearly defined areas of competence. We are working in co-operation with all the bodies supervised by His Royal Highness," says Mustapha el Khalfi, the communication minister and, at 38, the youngest PJD member of the cabinet. "We have chosen a third way, between revolution and continuity."

In an unprecedented move, the Islamists have endorsed the unpopular measures deemed necessary to revive the economy: higher prices for petrol and diesel fuel; an end to the payment of wages during industrial action by public-sector employees; compulsory tests for all unemployed graduates applying to enter the civil service.

In 2011 the 20 February Movement called for greater democracy, helping to set in motion the current changes in Morocco. But it has since been largely silenced, the target of a severe clampdown. "Police countermeasures are increasingly brutal, and the situation in Syria and Libya is being used for scaremongering and to convince people peaceful change is impossible," says Ryadi.

Demonstrators sometimes round on journalists. An Agence France-Presse correspondent, Omar Brousky, lost his press card after filing a dispatch that upset the monarchy. This was the last straw for Karim Tazi, one of the few business leaders in Casablanca to publicly support the PJD in November 2011.

"Forget about the government's economic incompetence. This has been a huge disappointment in terms of civil liberty," says Tazi. "The rapper Mouad al-Haqed, a 20 February Movement member, is back in prison on trumped-up charges, and now there's the Brousky business … We must not say or do anything that might upset the king. It's very noticeable for all those acquainted with Benkirane before and after [the election]."

"Part of the elite is out of phase with society," El Khalfi counters. The Islamists console themselves with the results of the October by-elections in Tangier and Marrakech where the PJD prevailed, despite a poor turnout. Furthermore, the prime minister's appearances on television attract large audiences, and even in cafes people stop talking when he is on the air. The monthly session of questions in parliament, now broadcast on TV, is an additional opportunity to air his views. A good orator and an astute politician, Benkirane excels at this exercise.

Indeed, his enduring popularity irritates the court. At the annual congress of the PJD youth in September, the prime minister was banned from attending by his own interior minister – who belongs to another party – on the grounds that it would impinge on the by-election campaign. Similarly the handling of reform of public broadcasting was taken out of the hands of the communication minister and entrusted to the housing minister. But the PJD has disregarded such public humiliation.

It will be up to public opinion to decide, as the supposed beneficiary of the reforms going through parliament. MPs will no longer be able to switch party without losing their seat. Parliamentary absenteeism will be publicly sanctioned and MPs' immunity restricted to freedom of speech in the course of their duties.

There is still much to be done, with Morocco's economic difficulties exacerbated by the crisis in Europe and a dangerous widening of the rift between rich and poor, which sometimes gives rise to riots in outlying regions. So far only a solidarity tax has been introduced, for a three-year period. Condemned by business leaders it will levy 3% of wages exceeding $3,000, rising to 5% above $6,000. "Ministers will pay too," says Daoudi, adding that the ministry of higher education has more than halved its operating costs. "Moroccans want change and the country's stability is more important than these measures."

Even so, the hopes raised by the PJD during the 2011 election campaign have been dashed, particularly with regard to the war on corruption. "In an emerging country it's not a technical matter, but a challenge for society involving far-reaching changes such as combating the informal economy, opening public contracts to competition and reforming the legal system," says Abdesselam Aboudrar, joint founder of Transparency Morocco and head of the Central Authority for the Prevention of Corruption. This body, which was established five years ago, is still waiting to become an independent organisation.

• This article appeared in Guardian Weekly, which incorporates material from Le Monde