Even Arabs Consider Him a Clown : Kadafi’s Revolutionary Dreams Becoming Frayed

As a busload of foreign journalists was being expelled from Libya the other day, it passed a small, straggling line of people shuffling into a stadium near the Aziziya barracks, where Libya’s leader, Col. Moammar Kadafi, nearly lost his life in the U.S. air strike on Tripoli three years ago.

The people were members of what the Libyan media call “the heroic masses,” and they were being summoned to yet another “popular rally” staged to show how steadfast Libya remains in confronting “American terrorism.”

A few in the ragged crowd glanced up at the reporters as the bus inched its way through the congested traffic. But apparently being under no obligation to demonstrate until they reached the rally, they looked away again, expressions of boredom or perhaps resignation etched on drawn and tired faces.

Even on a very short visit to Libya--short because of the sudden and still-unexplained decision to expel the journalists--it was clear that the mood here has mellowed considerably since April, 1986, when U.S. warplanes attacked Tripoli and Benghazi in retaliation for Libya’s alleged involvement in the bombing of a Berlin discotheque frequented by U.S. servicemen.

There was ample evidence, even then, that ordinary Libyans were becoming increasingly fed up with their never-ending revolution, the Orwellian double-speak of its ubiquitous slogans and the economic hardships it was forcing them to endure.

Still, they could be counted upon to report for demonstrations when the need arose, put on a half-hearted show of steadfastness and plaster the city with new portraits of Kadafi and posters denouncing the United States.

This time, however, there were far fewer demonstrations, and those attending them seemed even less enthusiastic. Anti-American posters were also notably absent, although the United States has not exactly endeared itself to most Libyans by shooting down two of their jet fighters last week or by threatening to blow up what they have been led to believe is only an innocent pharmaceutical plant.

There are still posters of Kadafi on the streets, but most of them are worn and frayed, their torn edges fluttering in the gentle sea breeze that, from time to time, caresses this cheerless city like an act of pity or kindness.

In a way, this seems appropriate. For, like the old posters, the revolution’s dreams are also frayed.

One by one, Kadafi’s adventures beyond his own shores have all failed. Some have done so spectacularly, like his military rout from Chad two years ago. Others, such as his efforts to promote Arab unity, have either just fizzled or been ignored.

A Second Nasser

These failures have frustrated Kadafi, who wanted his fellow Arabs to think of him as a second Gamel Abdel Nasser, the late and--in his lifetime--immensely popular Egyptian leader.

Instead, across the length and breadth of the Arab world, from the Persian Gulf to North Africa, Kadafi is almost universally regarded as a clown--and a demented one at that.

Perhaps in desperation, Kadafi turned to terrorism, supporting radical groups from the Azores to what is now Zimbabwe. All that earned him, however, was the enmity of the West, in particular the United States.

For a time, he seemed to thrive on this. If he couldn’t win the world’s admiration, he could at least earn its disapproval, which was still a form of the attention he seemed so desperately to crave.

That also seemed fitting, for Kadafi, who on more than one occasion has compared himself to the Prophet Mohammed and to Jesus Christ, still appears to hold a grudge against the world for its failure to embrace the “Green Book” in the way that it has the Koran or the Bible.

An Eclectic Anthology

Kadafi’s “Green Book” is an eclectic anthology of his thoughts and sayings, ranging from art and religion to politics and sports. In it is the “Third Universal Theory,” which is meant to succeed where communism and capitalism have both failed in bestowing political enlightenment upon the world. It is chock-a-block with such enlightening stuff as: “The party system aborts democracy” and “Democracy is popular rule, not expression.”

This sort of double-speak still abounds and is to be found on everything from the brass plaques above the reception counters at Libyan hotels to the cellophane wrapping on rolls of toilet paper.

But the striking thing about Libya today is that no one seems to pay much attention to the slogans or the ideology any more.

Three years ago, anyone tuning in to one of Libya’s two television stations could choose between a documentary on the achievements of the revolution or an entertainer, usually Maltese, belting out sayings from the “Green Book” set to the tune of a pulsating rock beat.

These days, the evening TV fare usually consists of more conventional variety shows and less politicized panel discussions.

There have been other, more significant changes.

Over the past year, the power of the dreaded “revolutionary committees”--which functioned like fascist youth squads or, in the Libyan context, what one observer called “green thought police”--has been sharply curtailed.

Private enterprise, banned until only six months ago, is flourishing once more, albeit on a small scale. The once shuttered souk is again a bustling marketplace where vendors hawk wares ranging from black-market Marlboros to car stereos and Turkish-made blue jeans at $30 per pair.

Kadafi has opened up his borders with Tunisia, permitting the import of foodstuffs and other consumer goods, signed a truce with Chad and moved to relax his tense relations with Egypt, Algeria, Morocco and other neighbors.

The colonel, who once looked to Nasser’s Egypt for political inspiration and to Mao Tse-tung’s China as a model for social reform, now seems to have found a new role model--the perestroika of Mikhail S. Gorbachev’s Soviet Union. Inevitably perhaps, diplomats here have dubbed Kadafi’s reforms “green perestroika. “

These changes, the diplomats add, have done much to bolster Kadafi’s sagging popularity, which hit a nadir in 1987 with the rout of Libyan forces from Chad.

Aura of Impermanence

But, however remarkable, the reforms still seem to have an aura of impermanence about them. The vendors in the souk sell their wares from cardboard boxes. They are here today but could just as easily be gone tomorrow. The shopkeepers themselves remain nervous.

While many of the excesses of the revolutionary committees have been curbed, political freedoms remain severely restricted.

“There are still many layers of control in this country,” one Western ambassador said. “While people are less afraid than before, they are still afraid. No one will express his opinion.”

And then, of course, there is still the matter of the chemical plant at Rabta, a remote and heavily fortified desert encampment in the bleak foothills of the Tripoli mountains 40 miles southwest of the capital. The Libyans insist that the plant is being built to manufacture pharmaceuticals. The United States, citing “conclusive evidence” obtained from intelligence channels, says that, when completed, the plant will be the largest facility in the Third World for the production of chemical weapons.

The Libyans, in an effort to support their case, allowed more than 200 journalists into Tripoli last week and took them to Rabta over the weekend.

The visit, however, only reinforced suspicions that there was something to hide. The journalists were not allowed to inspect the plant and got only a brief glimpse of the unlit complex from the windows of their moving bus in the dead of night. Then they were taken back to Tripoli and promptly told to pack their bags and leave.