Nureddin Sabir recounts a painful journey of hope, disappointment, betrayal, blood and murder that has seen him turn from loyal supporter to vehement opponent of Colonel Mu’ammar Gaddafi and his regime in Libya.
From Zintan in the west of Libya to Benghazi and Tobruk in the east, Libyans have been rising up against the rule of Colonel Mu’ammar Gaddafi since a “Day of Rage” was declared by pro-freedom activists on 17 February.
We Libyans have come a long way since that fateful day on 1 September 1969, when Gaddafi and a group of 12 young officers, dubbed the Free Unionist Officers, seized power from King Idris Sanusi in a bloodless coup.
“As a young boy aged 10 ...
I could not contain my excitement at the toppling of the monarchy, whose corruption, cronyism, intolerance, brutality and complete subservience to the USA and Britain could not but mark a deep imprint on my conscience..."
For me, this has been a 42-year journey of elation, hope, disappointment, betrayal and now blood and murder.
Elation
As a young boy aged 10, I was the first ever Libyan publicly to congratulate the Free Unionist Officers on their coup – what for many years I proudly called “the revolution”.
As with many of the adults I knew at the time, including all members of my family, I could not contain my excitement at the toppling of the monarchy, whose corruption, cronyism, intolerance, brutality and complete subservience to the USA and Britain could not but mark a deep imprint on my conscience, even as a child of 10.
So, in my euphoria, on the day of the revolution I asked my sister to help me write a letter of congratulations to the revolutionaries and then, during a gap in the curfew, I took it to an army officer manning a checkpoint near our house. To my surprise, he read it, jumped into his jeep and drove off. Two hours later, it was broadcast on state radio – the first and for many hours the only message of support to go on air.
I was ecstatic at the revolution and so was everyone I knew. The night of 31 August/1 September 1969 had been a sultry one and I had woken up at dawn on 1 September. The radio was on and I heard the revolutionaries’ “Communique Number One” as it was broadcast first time. Even now, 42 years later, listening to or reading the communique serves as a vivid reminder of that ecstasy.
Cognitive dissonance
I remained loyal to Gaddafi and to the ideals of the revolution for many years after those exhilarating moments, even when his commitment to those ideals visibly began to wane. I grew up hoping that somehow the revolution will rediscover its tracks, that the numerous detractions, excesses and abuses were just blips, growing pangs of the revolutionaries. The seizure and pointless destruction of my father’s modest and perfectly legal business did not turn me against the revolution, nor did the shocking public hanging of Egyptian dock workers in 1974 – murdered simply to annoy Gaddafi’s erstwhile friend, Anwar Sadat – which I witnessed in person as a young teenager. Not even the murder of student protestors in Benghazi in 1974 or the inexplicable abuses against me personally whenever I encountered Libyan officials, such as when I visit the Libyan People’s Bureau in London, were enough to turn me against Gaddafi and his colleagues.
Such was the strength of the hangover of the 1 September 1969 revolution, the power of the hope unleashed by that fateful event – a power whose potential had been magnified against the background of the 1967 defeat – that it was impossible to let go, to overcome the cognitive dissonance and see what was actually happening on the ground.
The awakening
However, one cannot live in denial forever. The absence of a decent, credible Libyan opposition did little to speed up my awakening. For many years, the choice was Gaddafi, the Islamists or the ultra-reactionary, super-rich monarchists. There were no – and as far as I am aware, there still are not – any significant, progressive, democratic Libyan opposition. For many years, therefore, my choice had to be Gaddafi, worts and all.
But the worts grew bigger and bigger. And Gaddafi evolved from clown, to an embarrassment, to a national disgrace, a weirdo and an insult to the honour and dignity of Libyans and all Arabs. The progressive, pan-Arab revolutionary had become a debauched, decadent, corrupt king, grooming one son then the other to be crown prince. We had gotten rid of a senile, vassal only to end up with a degenerate lunatic.
And now we have a mass murderer who uses helicopters, artillery and brainless, imported mercenaries against his own fellow citizens, peaceful demonstrators who are asking for nothing more than their inalienable human and civil rights.
The choice now is not Gaddafi or Islamists and monarchists. The choice now is to live in perpetual ignominy or to die with dignity. As I write, up to 200 fellow citizens have chosen to die with honour rather than live in humiliation. With so much blood spelt, and with the unprecedented degree of brutality that we have been witnessing over the past few days, even living in humiliation to fight another day has ceased to be a choice. The choice now is simply indignity or death in the hope that future generations may live with honour and dignity.
http://www.redress.cc/global/nsabir20110220
Turning against Mu’ammar Gaddafi of Libya
