The prickly question for Libyans is are they prepared to put the past behind them and include those who were part of the old regime
THIS WEEK Libya’s old post-independence national flag – red, black and green with a white star and crescent at its heart – was hoisted at UN headquarters in New York, replacing the monochrome green of Muammar Gadafy’s standard. Bringing together Libya’s pre-Gadafy past and post-Gadafy future, the new-old flag represents a country that has not yet fully struggled free of the regime under which it chafed for more than four decades.
It is now more than a month since columns of revolutionary fighters streamed into Tripoli, joining residents who had spent months clandestinely preparing for that moment, or “zero hour” as it became known. Within days the capital was theirs. The dramatic fall of Tripoli is still celebrated every night on the city’s landmark Martyrs Square but Libya’s revolution is not yet complete.
Gadafy remains at large, reduced now to a voice heard in audio messages broadcast by a sympathetic Syrian-based TV channel. Fighting continues on a number of fronts, even as Nato carries out more air strikes, especially in the besieged towns of Bani Walid and Sirte, where Gadafy’s forces have put up a fierce resistance. Nato announced this week that it would extend its mandate in Libya – which had been due to expire on Tuesday – by up to 90 days.
The fact that fighters loyal to the deposed leader show no sign of surrendering raises fears that these diehards could form the backbone of a drawn-out insurgency, as threatened by the fugitive Gadafy.
Such a prospect could prove disastrous at a crucial time when the focus should be on building a viable nation from the ashes of Gadafy’s experiment in tyranny.
That task brings its own challenges, many of which are already becoming only too apparent. The revolutionaries were only ever really united by their desire to see Gadafy gone. The cracks within their ranks that appeared soon after anti-regime protests tipped into a bloody uprising earlier this year have widened considerably since then. In recent weeks, sparring, which had, for the most part, taken place behind the scenes, has burst into the open.
All has to do with who will run the new Libya and what kind of country that will be. Among those jockeying for power are members of the former regime, religious conservatives, including Islamists, and returned exiles who lean towards a more secular, liberal vision. The question of who did what – whether during the war of the last six months, or during Gadafy’s 42-year rule – is hugely important. Some claim their role in the revolution has not been sufficiently recognised, and accuse others of exaggerating theirs. Underlying this are niggling anxieties that certain cities, towns and regions will be marginalised as the new order takes shape.
“We don’t want to be sidelined, and we know if we leave Tripoli, we will be sidelined,” a senior figure in one of the revolutionary brigades from western Libya told me in response to calls for the brigades and irregular militias from outside the city to return home. Units from towns and cities across Libya’s western flank have set up bases in the capital. They claim to be in charge of certain districts and daub their names on walls to mark out territory. There is much griping over the appointment of Abdel Hakim Belhaj, a former leader of the now defunct Libyan Islamic Fighting Group, a militant organisation that posed the greatest threat to Gadafy in the 1990s, as head of the Tripoli Military Council, a body fighters from some brigades say they are not willing to recognise.
Another worry is the continuing delay in forming a new interim government. On September 11th, the caretaker National Transitional Council (NTC) said it would introduce, within a week or so, an interim cabinet that would have control over all revolutionary forces, as well as the support of Libya’s regions. A week later, however, came news that the final decision on the make-up of the body had been postponed.
Yesterday, an NTC spokesman said a new cabinet would be announced within days, adding that it would include 22 ministerial portfolios. “It would be a compact government, a crisis government,” he said.
But the process has already been dogged by political infighting and accusations of cronyism and nepotism. There is much scepticism over whether the body, which in its previous incarnation was viewed as tilting too much towards eastern Libya, will be truly representative. An inclusive government that will help steer the country towards reconstruction and reconciliation after the bloodshed of recent months is crucial. Only then can the country move to begin the process that will result in a new constitution and elections.
All of this is taking place in a country awash with weaponry. The bands of swaggering revolutionary fighters firing in the air, once a common sight, have now largely disappeared from the streets of cities like Benghazi, cradle of the uprising that began in February. But concerns remain over where all the heavy weaponry looted from military bases has disappeared to, and who may use it in the future if the new Libya fails to meet expectations.
Away from the politics and the guns, a quieter reordering is taking place in workplaces, including oil companies and hospitals, in which senior personnel considered pro-Gadafy are being dislodged in arbitrary ways that have caused some disquiet, and threaten to cripple businesses and services at a time when the general public is clamouring for a return to something approaching normality.
The issue raises a prickly question: to what extent will Libyans be prepared to put the past behind them and include those who were part of the old regime? The answer will determine much in the new Libya.