LIBYA

After the coup

A CORRESPONDENT

The author of this article is an Englishman working in Libya, who for obvious reasons wishes to remain anonymous.

Tripoli—Seven months after the Libyan revolution there is a pronounced air of gloom throughout the country. The revolution was received with considerable enthusiasm at first, especially as the charges of corruption levelled against the royal government were known to be true. But as the weeks passed very few changes seemed to occur. The ma- jor one has been an increase in unemploy- ment, owing to the cancellation of contracts, mainly with foreign firms. This was intended as a patriotic measure, and was greeted as such, until economic reality began to make itself felt.

The new government announced that it stood for freedom, socialism and unity. In fact, there is considerably less freedom in the country than before the revolution. At first this was to be expected, for security reasons, but one wonders how long strict security precautions should be necessary. As for socialism, Libya has one industry and it has been stated on several occasions that oil is not to be nationalised. Nor is land. Spokesmen are then driven to rather arcane suggestions that there is another kind of socialism which is specifically Arab and Islamic, but no more details are riven. No one is sure what unity means. The country had been united by the monarchy after cen- turies of division. It could be Arab unity, but when the Sudanese leader came to Tripoli the expected reference to unity between Libya, Sudan and the United Arab Republic, even as a target for the future, did not

OCCUr.

So the revolution has gone flat. The government has now turned to the persecu- tion of foreigners as a substitute. This no doubt has its popular support, but it will no more solve Libya's problems than any other measures that have been taken.

Many foreigners have lost their jobs and been sent packing, usually with the mini- mum of notice. These are not only West- erners but include (to my knowledge) Iraqis, Pakistanis and Yugoslays. The problem is that Libya, with its small, largely untrained population, is finding it very difficult to replace them. The situation is aggravated by the attitude to the old regime, which keeps many of the trained personnel that do exist either behind bars or under house arrest. The

accent on youth, and the fact of a military regime, leads to desperation—such as is evi- dent in the attempt to find someone to look after the national airline. Young Army offi- cers are appointed and quickly dismissed as they show incompetence. It is an Arab fail- ing (intensified in Libya) to believe that any- one can do anything, and that special train- ing is a Western myth (designed to keep out the native).

Anti-American sentiment has reached a new high, but it seems to be more official than popular. In Benghazi there has been no violence, either against property or per- sons. (The tedious business of attacking the American Embassy doesn't happen here.) American research workers have been dis- missed from the University. I believe, how- ever, that the opportunity to visit America would still be the number one choice of a majority of young Libyans. A love-hate rela- tionship has never been so pronounced. The love is normal issue, the hate official indocri- nation. But so many people act, or are com- pelled to act for much of the time, in an official capacity.

The regime has declared that Libya's Arab identity is to be emphasised. Alcoholic liquors have been banned. The drinking of liquor is contrary to the Koran, but only one other Moslem country, Saudi Arabia, for- bids its sale. Just before Christmas everyone got a supply; since then the situation has been vague. 'Other people' always seem to be getting it—in theory. Progressive Arabs look upon the ban as a mark of the reactionary unregenerate past. The present regime gives every indication of being puri- tanical, but there is also a strong suspicion that the policy has been adopted partly because it will anger and irritate foreigners. This is not to say that a lot of Libyans do not have the taste for alcohol, but this is one of the subjects no Moslem can speak openly about. Along with liquor, pig meat has also disappeared. Pork and bacon are no longer on sale; a Greek pork butcher who used to have a stall in Benghazi market has had to shut up shop.

There are far more Egyptians in the country than before, as most of the experts who have been dismissed are replaced by reptians. Cyrenaica has always been sus- p4cious of its neighbour, and one feels the atitagonism is growing, though so far there are few overt signs—apart from a few shop- keepers and merchants who shoot their mouths off to European customers. There are many reports of Egyptian troops being in the country, and it may be significant that it is now very difficult to get permission to cross the land frontier, and that a special passenger boat has been laid on between Benghazi and Alexandria.

The most remarkable decree (and one that has amazed other Arabs as well as Euro- peans) has been the ban on signs or notices in any language or script other than Arabic. This applies (with one small exception) to everything: street signs, shop-fronts, hospital notices, even the notices on archaeological sites. The exception is the posters put up by the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, including a remarkable one that equates Zionism with Nazism—enough to make Hitler turn in his grave. The government is not issuing tourist visas but even if it were few would come. 'Why should I come dere for plea- sure', one foreigner said to me, 'when I am forbidden to drink what I want?'

There is nothing surprising in all this. The new Libyan leader, Colonel Quadhafi, is a twenty-seven year-old soldier who obviously

hasn't the faintest idea what to do. Those who might have helped or advised him are either in jail, awaiting trial (by People's Courts, not an institution to inspire con- fidence), or lying doggo waiting for the inevitable. Even the propaganda is uninspired. The only certain winner is anti- Zionist fury, but the Zionists, unlike the ex- patriates, are not to hand. And so the government falls back on that tired old enemy, imperialism. Thawra, the govern- ment newspaper, gives a stern warning against factionalist elements (why is it so easy for foreigners to mislead patriotic Arabs?) but is driven to demand even sterner vigilance than normal because of the enemy's demonic cunning: let us not forget that imperialism, in cooperation with stooges and reactionaries, would not hesitate to use any ideological trend even if, on the surface, it is in direct conflict with imperialist inclina- tions ...' In other words, the imperialists will urge collectivism or even alliance with Russia on the unwitting Libyan. The situa- tion is indeed confusing.

And now, in an attempt to keep revolu- tionary fury at the required pitch, a royal palace in Tripoli has been opened to the public. For ten piastres you can see the fabulous bedrooms, the cinema and the swimming pool which used to be the scene of royal debauchery. But worst of all, a photograph has been discovered and published, showing the late queen and her adopted daughter in slacks! Another showed the princess dancing the twist, while 'the queen and a couple of Beatle-type "foreign" youths were egging her on through systematic clapping.' As an Arab party is usually characterised by systematic clapping, the offence is diffieult to understand.

In the past people have returned from Libya and written books about the country. They have appeared under fairly obvious titles, such as The Green Mountain or Deserts of the Hesperides. They have given attractive pictures of the land but have nevertheless been banned here because of 'hostile' statements—such as that there are brothels in the back streets or fleas in the caves. Considering this business of titles I cannot make up my mind whether my own book, if it ever sees the light, should be called Dido Died Here (who could blame her?) or Xenophobia.