Reporter’s Notebook From Tripoli : Libya Sways to the Rhythms of Rhetoric

Green strobe lights pulsate in the background to the rhythm of a rock beat while the camera slowly pans from an image of a factory assembly line to the face of a sultry female singer wearing deep purple eye shadow and a black leather pantsuit.

Moving to the microphone, she parts her ruby lips in a slow, seductive fashion and begins to sing:

Hard work and proficiency

Will help bring forth self-sufficiency

To cut imports to a minimum

And raise production to a maximum--mum-mum.

In Col. Moammar Kadafi’s Libya, revolutionary rhetoric permeates everything, from rock videos on TV to the Orwellian doublespeak with which officials evade reporters’ questions.

The slogans, for the most part, are derived from the Green Book, a slim volume of Kadafi’s sayings and thoughts on revolution, government and society.

Often, however, the slogans can be esoteric, if not downright baffling. Copper plaques behind reception counters of Libyan hotels advise newly arriving guests that “The Party System Aborts Democracy,” while passengers aboard Libya’s state airline are informed on the covers of their airline tickets that “Popular Committees Are Everywhere.”

Nothing, it seems, escapes politicization--not even Libyan toilet paper, which comes in a cellophane wrapper inscribed with the Green Book slogan “Partners, Not Wage Workers.”

Whenever he is asked who has influenced his political thinking the most, Kadafi usually mentions Gamal Abdel Nasser, the late Egyptian president and pan-Arabist.

However, a visitor who has been to both Egypt and Libya is struck more by the parallels between Libya today and China during Mao Tse-tung’s Cultural Revolution.

In his early years in power, Kadafi, like Mao, did much to improve the living standards of his people. Mao eliminated starvation, while Kadafi used Libya’s previously pocketed oil money to build schools, roads, houses and medical facilities.

Later, however, both men appeared to become obsessed with themselves and paranoid about opposition. Both created personality cults around themselves and ruled through the theory of continual revolution, using the resultant chaos to keep opponents off balance.

Mao wrote his Red Book and Kadafi a green one. Both books were elevated virtually to the status of bibles in their countries. To enforce the revolutionary philosophy contained in each, China had its Red Guards, while Libya has its Revolutionary Guards.

There are historical, cultural, geographic and political differences, to be sure, but these in a way only serve to make the similarities more striking.

Mao had his people’s militia. Two years ago, Kadafi followed suit with his own, called the People’s Army and based, like Mao’s earlier version, on the theory of popular defense.

To keep things running in spite of the constant planned upheaval, both leaders relied on strong No. 2 men--Premier Chou En-lai in China and Maj. Abdel-Salam Jalloud in Libya.

Indeed, while their cultures may be worlds apart, the biggest difference between China and Libya seems to be that in China, the Cultural Revolution ended 10 years ago, while in Libya, it is still continuing.

“Thank you for all you have done for Libya,” Information Minister Sharifeddin Faituri told nearly 300 foreign journalists assembled at a “farewell banquet” in Tripoli on Wednesday night. “Now, your mission is over,” he said, and added, for emphasis, “It is finished.”

Could it be, the journalists wondered, that the Libyans were suggesting that they leave?

“Of course not. You are welcome here,” replied one official. “But you must be on tomorrow’s flight.”

When told by several reporters that flights out of Libya were booked solid the next day, the official informed them that if they could not get seats on the flights of their choice, they would be put aboard a special Libyan Air flight to Malta. “From there, you can make your own arrangements,” he said.

A Mysterious Reversal

About 100 journalists did leave Thursday as ordered. But after several stories reported that Libya was expelling the press, the decision was suddenly and mysteriously reversed.

“No, I never said you had to leave,” one official told an American reporter.

“But you did,” the reporter persisted. “Just this morning, you told me I would be out on a flight to Malta if I didn’t get out on my own.”

“No, I didn’t. I would never say such a thing,” the official replied smugly.

Later, the word went around that journalists would have to leave Friday. Again, there were threats of expulsions and warnings that the press had overstayed its welcome.

“The program really is finished,” said one impatient official. “There is nothing more for you to see or do.”

Swimming Pool Locked

This time, for good measure, officials locked the door to the hotel swimming pool, shut down the cafeteria coffee machine early and informed callers that, regrettably, room service was temporarily not functioning.

Most reporters finally took the hint and left, although a few who had not specifically been threatened with expulsion sought to stay on a day or two longer.

After two weeks, however, those who did leave seemed glad to be going. Sitting in the departure lounge of Tripoli Airport waiting for a flight to Athens, one journalist for an American television network likened the experience to “an incredibly bad camping trip with lots of children, where it rains a lot and you get poison ivy.”

“That’s Libya for me,” he summed up.