Exit the Colonel (46 page)

The first of a series of trials of senior Gaddafi officials began in early June 2012, as Gaddafi's last Intelligence Chief, Bouzaid Dorda took the stand in a Tripoli courtroom to deny the charges against him.
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At the time of this writing, the question of what would happen, legally and otherwise, to both Saif Al Islam and Abdullah Senussi—who represented the extremes of the Gaddafi regime—remained very cloudy. Saif's Zintani guards were holding three members of an ICC delegation—one Saif 's lawyer-designate—for allegedly trying to pass him communications from “dangerous allies,” along with “codes.” After an apparent heart attack, Senussi was still sitting in Mauritania. The problem of how to handle Saif would appear to be more complex than that of Senussi, given his past reform associations, the notoriety provided by the Gaddafi name, and the fact that there was a far greater public record of criminal actions on the part of Senussi. Many in the international humanitarian community evidenced some noticeable sympathy for Saif, and while he had been
abandoned by many of his erstwhile associates within Europe's jet set, many who knew him during his London days would also countinue to express sympathy for him and insist that he was effectively a victim of uncontrollable circumstance. Many hoped Saif would indeed be transferred to the ICC, and that he might in the future shed light on the period during which he was an important protagonist.

CHAPTER 13

Assessment

A
ccording to one popular theory of revolution, people rise up against their leaders not when social and economic conditions are at their worst, but when conditions start to improve to the point where people can imagine a better future. The 2003 WMD-for-lifting-of-sanctions deal, supported as it was by a slew of consultants, commercially oriented universities, intelligence agencies and multinational companies, did several things of particular significance: First, it created a narrative, on both sides, according to which subsequent actions were judged—and judged increasingly poorly, as there were few fixed (or enforceable) deliverables on either side, other than those that related to the payment of reparations or exchange of information, for which incentives were aligned. Second, and in accordance with the “War of the Worlds” theory (see chapter 3), the US-UK-Libya deal, and subsequent rapprochement, did expose Libyans to the world (and vice versa), providing both sides a better look at what was happening inside and outside of Libya—in the case of Libya, what was possible. Third, as part of Gaddafi's effort to implement limited economic reform while skirting the issue of political reform or human rights, certain dynamics were put in place via the makeover, which, over the period of seven years managed to create a class of quasi-reformists—some still strongly attached to the regime,
others pushing for fundamental change, most of whom became household names in international diplomatic circles. Controversial as many of these individuals were—precisely for the fact that they were used by the regime—they played a significant role in pushing forward and consolidating the gains of the 2011 revolution.

Benghazi residents, and indeed most of Libya, insist that theirs was a “spontaneous” action, driven by collective rage at outrageous acts the regime committed over the course of four decades. To a large degree this is true—the youth were the fighters, the risk-takers, taking to the streets chanting “freedom or death.” They found freedom, and a lot of death. They risked (and gave) their lives in countless numbers to take out Gaddafi's thugs and mercenaries, with guns, rockets, and appropriated tanks and an aircraft or two, and their bare hands if necessary.
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Why were the youth so angry, and so vested? With a median age of 24.2, Libyans had no clear indication in 2010 that their lot would be substantially better under a partially made over Libya, as under an unknown Libya without Gaddafi or the Gaddafi clan. Despite the new money and investment, unemployment was still officially at 30 percent (Abdelrahman Shalgam claims it was closer to 40 percent.)
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While the educational and medical system improved slightly post-sanctions, this only meant that there were more, somewhat more qualified, youth entering the ranks of the unemployed or underemployed each year.

A key question, however, is whether the Libyan youth, the raw material of the revolution, could have sustained this uprising, without an added element, a cadre that could coordinate actions in the wake of the “Day of Rage” and resulting street battles, while articulating the rudiments of a plan—on both the military and diplomatic planes; people who could persuade the outside world that this was a sustainable cause, not the makings of a state led by Al Qaeda. Gaddafi's reformists, and the concentric circles of individuals who either found reformist dialogue profitable or believed it was possible, provided this critical ingredient. Ironically, then, many people who were “of the regime” and are currently criticized for their association, may have been a necessary transitional ingredient. Would the US have responded to the pleas for help from individuals about whom they knew absolutely nothing?

While the human rights situation in Libya, and press freedoms, had improved slightly, the real change initiated by the opening with the West was the formation of human social networks that the limited reform dialogue had permitted—linking citizens (particularly in the East) around issues of common concern and outrage, from the Abu Selim massacre, to the child HIV infections in the late 1990s, pervasive corruption, even reparations for land illegally appropriated during the 1970s and 1980s. The regime found itself forced, by the opening, to respond to some of the demands for increased information and compensation—to a degree. Saif Al Islam, from the perspective of many of his immediate family as well as Gaddafi's long time clients, may have fallen too much in love with his public role as reformer.

The fact that Mustafa Abdeljalil, Gaddafi's former Justice Minister, emerged within days of the first protests as the leader of the Rebel movement, and ultimately the NTC, had much to do with these networks, and past outrages. Abdeljalil was from the heart of the East, Al Beida, and as past president of the Al Beida appellate court had gained the confidence of many Benghazi families through his interventions on behalf of the Abu Salim families. As Justice Minister, he had become known to the West as a possible ally (he was said to have urged Gaddafi not to make a political issue of the nurses, and to release them—despite the fact that much of Benghazi believed they were guilty).
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In 2009 and 2010, Abdeljalil pushed Saif Al Islam and Gaddafi to release more political prisoners (most of whom were, as one would have expected, from the East). The path from Abdeljalil's past experiences to leadership was a case study in the forces driving much of the popular revolution, and linking the people together in revolt. While Dr. Mahmoud Jibril had been lambasted in certain circles within Libya for being unable to communicate effectively with the Libyan people (“too intellectual”) and as someone who had been closer to the previous regime financially and politically than had been previously revealed, he emerged at a critical time to articulate Libya's plight in a form that the West (Hillary Clinton, particularly) could understand. Whatever Libyans thought of him at the time, from the West's perspective he had a number of strong pluses: he was articulate; held a PhD from a respected American university; and he did not present as an Al Qaeda sympathizer.

Fathi Baja had been previously a correspondent and editor for one of Saif 's reform-minded newspapers,
Oea
(and, allegedly, one of those Benghazi academics drafted by Saif to assist with advising/writing of his PhD thesis). He wound up being one of the principal authors of the bayan, the statement of principles of the revolution. Fathi Terbil, a tireless advocate for the Abu Salim victims (several of his family members also died in the massacre), was also someone with whom Saif had dealt directly, and one might say enabled, by providing a modicum of protection for these efforts. It was his arrest that launched pre-February 17th protests that subsequently mushroomed.

While it is not wholly politically correct to admit it, either within Libya or outside, the Islamists—that is, those who fought Gaddafi under the banner of Islam, and with training received fighting the US and its allies in Afghanistan and Iraq—also played a strong role in framing Gaddafi's end. While not numerous, and while their ideas were not particularly popular, their efforts had kept the pressure on Gaddafi for the previous twenty years, and they almost managed to kill him on a number of occasions. The Islamists, in many ways, were the black dog that Gaddafi feared would ultimately get him. They were one of the main reasons Gaddafi sought common cause with the West in the fight against terror in the first place.

As part of the rapprochement and attendant reform process, the Islamists, too, agreed to compromise with the regime. Belhaj was one of the beneficiaries, having been released in 2010 via a “truce” with the regime, mediated by Saif Al Islam and Libyan expatriate cleric Ali Sallabi. In exchange for laying down their weapons, many of these leaders pledged a (temporary, perhaps) truce with a new, perhaps somewhat kinder regime. The fact that the US was now a partner with Libya in rooting out the LIFG and its offshoots must have been a factor in this decision—despite the fact that there was still no overwhelming evidence that the Libyan extremists shared significant interests with or were connected strongly to Al Qaeda and its more direct affiliates in North Africa, such as Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM).

One can draw similar parallels with some of the commercial elites, who, while vehemently opposed to the regime, looked at the deals Libya was
striking with the West and figured, essentially, their choice, yet again, was between collaboration to various degrees, and exile. If they were to continue to have any say in Libya's future, it had to be through some form of accommodation. Maybe Saif would win the internal power struggle with his father and brothers. Maybe he would be better. Some believed it; others did not.

In addition to recognizing the Islamists and a few outspoken businessmen, one has to give credit to the Libyan opposition in exile, especially the National Front for the Salvation of Libya (NFSL), which, while criticized for being old (they had been at it for some time) and disorganized, kept up outside pressure on the Gaddafi regime—the fact that few listened to their dissertations on the human rights situation in Libya was not entirely their fault.

It is clear in interviews with Libyans from the various groups mentioned above that the individuals and activist groups communicated with one another, and to some extent, coordinated actions. After all, whatever their specific agendas, they had a common cause. Direct human networks played a far greater role in advancing the Libyan revolution than did Facebook, or Twitter. Without these conversations and dialogues having taken place, without the language of reform having been implanted in these groups, it is hard to see how organizations such as the 17th February Coalition, and then the NTC, could have coalesced so quickly. The fact that these bodies were not fully representative, that the process was imperfect and messy, and marked by infighting and naïvete, should not detract from the fact that the revolution, the process by which Libya, with the help of key outside allies, managed to dislodge Gaddafi and set the foundations of a government, was a stupendous achievement. What happens next is both up to the Libyans, and to forces they cannot fully control—just as was the case with the Revolution.

For all of the cumulative suffering and the unplanned consequences of the rapprochement with the West, there still had to be a spark. The 2006 riots might have turned into an even greater problem then, had the regime attempted to repress the street as they did when the Arab Spring started. Things were far different in 2011.

Libyans who experienced the revolution in Tripoli and Benghazi described a growing feeling of frustration mixed with impotence as events
progressed in Tunisia and Egypt and as the Benghazi revolt succeeded, while the Tripoli uprising failed. One Tripoli resident attributes the success of the Libyan uprising, in all seriousness, to a saying attributed to the Tunisians and the Egyptians, which most in the east and in Tripoli seem to have heard: “Keep your heads down Libyans, we want to see the real men on the other side of you.”
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The riposte, which circulated in various versions: “Hold on Egypt, hold on Tunisia; we were only bending down to tie our shoelaces, so we could deliver a real revolution.”
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There are a number of reasons the West did not see Libya's revolution—as distinct from the Arab Spring—in motion. The most obvious of the reasons I have discussed at length, that is, the subjugation of Libya-focused analysis and observation to larger foreign policy agendas—Iraq and Iran, principally—to which Libya was essentially a footnote; and the reinforcement of this overly rosy view of the status quo, via a range of commercial deals in oil, arms, and infrastructure.