Libya - The Rise and Fall of Qaddafi

by Alison Pargeter

  Yet perhaps most important of all, the newly created Libya was hampered by the fact that it had not really achieved its own independence. There had been no struggle for independence, or movement that could claim to have won a hard-fought battle for freedom. This meant that independence came as something of a shock. Libyans seemed to have emerged into independence in a sort of ‘incredulous daze’ and still felt there must be a catch somewhere.6

  More importantly, unlike in neighbouring Algeria or Tunisia, where nationalist liberation movements were to bring a unity of purpose and an almost undisputed degree of legitimacy to the post-independence regimes, Libya's new leaders had no such clout. Although the new king had a natural authority and religious legitimacy on account of his leadership of the Sanussi order and his claim of descent from the Prophet, Idris was in his post largely by virtue of his alliance with the British. Moreover, the Sanussiya leader had always been something of a compromise figure. While he was much loved in his native east, the Tripolitanians gave him their support largely in the interests of securing independence as quickly as possible, rather than out of any strong sense of loyalty. Those in the Fezzan, meanwhile, supported him partly to ensure that they were not dominated by Tripolitania. Thus Idris became king more by default than by virtue of his personal leadership qualities.

  The sixty-one-year-old was not exactly what one would look for in a king. The frail Idris, who suffered from repeated bouts of illness, was known primarily for being a deeply religious man. Born in 1890 in the Sanussi oasis of Jaghboub, in the eastern desert, Idris had grown up in an atmosphere of piety and learning. He was accustomed to a sedentary life and had never been considered a man of action or a man of a ‘hardy constitution’.7 However, he was deemed a man of piety and high moral standing, who had readily adopted the Sanussiya traditions of asceticism and austerity. Although Egyptian King Faruq once called him ‘an ignorant dervish’,8 Idris, with his trademark round spectacles, also had a reputation as something of a scholar. It is hardly surprising, therefore, that he struggled to make the leap from being the head of a religious order to being the monarch of a nation. As one British official posted in Libya at the time recalled, Idris was ‘more of a mistake than a modern day ruler’.9

  Idris's inability to step up to the mark was partly related to the fact that the role of monarch was not one the new king had ever craved. While happy to take on the Emirship of Cyrenaica, the Sanussiya leader seems to have accepted the throne more out of a sense of duty than from any serious desire to rule over the new-born nation. He thus remained firmly a man of Cyrenaica, and proved unable really to go beyond the local. As Henry Villard, the first US ambassador to Libya, commented, the unfailing subject of interest to him was the past, present and future of Cyrenaica, and he gave the impression that he would be content to reign over that territory alone.10

  With such an attitude, Idris soon gained a reputation for being a reluctant king who ‘found the exercise of power rather tiresome’.11 In stark contrast to Qaddafi, whose images were emblazoned across the country, Idris refused to have his face printed on the currency or to have any landmark (other than Tripoli's civilian airport) named after him. The infirm monarch also shied away from the day-to-day running of the country, relying heavily on his closest advisors to manage affairs on his behalf. He hated detail and complicated arrangements, was acutely indecisive, and had ‘an aversion to directness in either thought or action’.12 He was so retiring that whenever things got too much, he threatened to abdicate. Following the assassination in 1954 of his trusted advisor, Ibrahim Al-Shelhi, who was killed by a rival faction in the Sanussi family, Idris shut himself away in a simple apartment on the top floor of a local government building in Tobruq, like a recluse. It was only the pleading of then Prime Minister Mustafa Ben Halim that convinced him not to relinquish the throne and to stay on in office.

  Yet it would be wrong to equate the king's character and apparent lack of political acumen with weakness. Despite his frail and disinterested air, Idris created a highly paternalistic ruling system, in which all power was focused in the palace. Idris surrounded himself with strongmen from loyal tribes in Cyrenaica, such as the Bara'asa, the Al-Obeidat and the Al-Awaqir, placing them in the all-powerful Diwan (royal office) that became the key focus of authority throughout his rule. Although he was careful to include a number of important commercial figures from Tripolitania among this royal entourage, it was, for the most part, dominated by those eastern tribes that had traditional links to the Sanussiya.

  Idris also ensured that the new government structures were dominated by close allies. He retained the right to appoint ministers to the key portfolios of defence, interior, finance and petroleum affairs, and the new king gave these posts to faithful tribal notables or to prominent Tripolitanian families whose loyalty could be assured. He also appointed the local walis (the heads of the powerful local provincial councils), who, during the first decade of independence, came to act more like heads of independent states. Thus politics under Idris became the assertion of family, factional, tribal and parochial interests.13

  Indeed, anyone hoping for a robust parliament and a healthy political life was to be sorely disappointed. Idris also dismantled all semblance of an effective opposition. He had already banned the troublesome Omar Al-Mukhtar Society in 1951, after the members of this militant group (which had been set up in 1942) staged a demonstration against a government hospital in Benghazi that had failed to bury a dead man within twenty-four hours, as dictated by Muslim tradition. The protest soon turned against the government and the British, giving Idris the excuse he needed to rid himself of this irritant. In 1952 the new king went further. He outlawed the National Congress, the most important political party in Tripolitania, after it had staged a demonstration to protest against the results of the country's first ever parliamentary elections in 1952, which it had expected to win.14 The demonstration turned violent, and clashes with police resulted in a number of deaths. This was the perfect excuse for Idris to rid himself of the country's most potent opposition party. In fact, much like Qaddafi after him, the king had a longstanding suspicion of political parties per se, fearing that such new-fangled modernist inventions could be used as Trojan horses by foreign powers.

  Thus the king created a kind of court government, made up of loyal tribal notables reliant on patronage. This bypassed the official structures of the state that had been so arduously thrashed out in the constitution. Indeed, despite the façade of government, power lay with what was essentially a benign oligarchy, centred around existing power patterns in Cyrenaica. Yet perhaps one should not be surprised by this. Idris was not a modern man, and he ruled in the only way he knew: more like a localized tribal and religious leader than a state builder. He regarded the country's new political structures as secondary to his own understanding of government, which was based upon Sharia (Islamic law).15 In line with Islamic tradition, Idris seems to have believed that ruling should be a shura (consultation) process, in which he listened to the views of others and then made his own decisions in accordance with his personal moral and religious principles. For Idris, the realities of modern-day ruling were always going to remain elusive.

  However, one reality that Idris could not ignore was the discovery of large reserves of oil in 1959 – something that was to have perhaps the most profound impact on the newly independent Libya. Foreign energy companies, many of them American, rushed into the country in search of the ‘black gold’, and Libya, which had relied almost exclusively on foreign aid, began to see new possibilities for itself. Yet in order to realize its potential, the country had to get its act together fast. Not only did it need to create a climate that was conducive to foreign investment, but it also needed to overcome its regional differences, so as to develop and manage a national oil industry. The need for income clearly outweighed political considerations, and in 1963, just two years after the first shipment of oil left Libya's shores, Idris issued a royal decree abolishing the federal system; the Uni
ted Kingdom of Libya became simply the Kingdom of Libya.

  The new status meant that the powerful provincial councils and their judicial systems were abolished, and the national government was given authority for the first time over economic development, transportation, finance and taxation. Despite the fact that there was strong resistance to these changes at the provincial level, where local loyalties still pulled the heart strings hardest, the king proved wise enough to realize that, in order to become an oil exporter, Libya needed to at least act like a unified nation. The decision certainly paid off. The Libyan economy boomed almost overnight. Per capita annual income (which at independence had stood at $25–35) had rocketed to $2,000 by 1969.16

  But the good-news story was not all roses. Libya's new role as an oil exporter brought problems as well as benefits, not least of which was corruption. While patronage had always been the king's chosen method of ensuring compliance, the opportunities for making a fast buck increased with the new income flows. Taking up a post in a state institution became a byword for lining one's own pocket. This was especially true of ministerial posts, where serious money could be made. Close links also developed between the foreign oil companies and the Palace, with ministers often acting as go-betweens. Thus the key beneficiaries of this new oil wealth were predominantly the old tribal elite that had been at the helm since independence. As one commentator observed, ‘the king's entourage included too many individuals for whom personal self-enrichment had become an all-consuming passion’.17

  This oil wealth also created a new class of rich that cut across tribal links and that began to change the social fabric of Libyan society. An emerging class of bureaucrats and technocrats, who had benefited from the new education programmes that had accompanied independence, formed the beginnings of a local bourgeoisie. They started moving into government positions and into the new institutions created around the energy sector, enabling them to move up the social ladder. The expanding oil sector was accompanied, too, by a boom in service trades and industries. There were suddenly jobs to be had in the construction and hotel trades, among others. The lack of skilled workers in the country meant that truck drivers or stenographers who knew English could command almost any wage they demanded.18 The upshot of these changes was that a small number of individuals became very rich very quickly.

  At the same time, Libyans from the arid and desolate rural areas began to pour into the cities in search of work. Between 1954 and 1964, the population of Tripoli mushroomed from 130,000 to 213,000, while Benghazi's doubled from 70,000 to 137,000.19 Predictably enough, there were nowhere near enough jobs to go round, and many of these new arrivals found themselves struggling to survive in the fetid shanty towns that fast grew up around Tripoli and other key urban centres. One Benghazi shanty town named Sabri, which housed around a quarter of the city's inhabitants, yielded

  … a clear picture of a primitive and miserable society living on the lowest margins of human subsistence. In winter, the people suffer from dirt, mud and rain. Summer conditions are better than those of winter, but millions of flies live on the dirt and sewage found all over the place … Neither modern dwellings nor medical services, sanitation, hygiene, piped water or electricity are yet known, despite the fact that the eastern part of the area lies along the main northern entrance to the city.20

  This migration – and the misery that awaited those who had uprooted themselves to go in search of their fortune – prompted an extreme dislocation and a disruption of traditional and social links. This only served to accentuate feelings of marginalization. It is hardly surprising, then, that as these individuals saw the old and new elites (as well as foreign oil companies) benefiting from the oil boom and getting richer and richer, resentments began to build.

  The power of ideology

  While Idris struggled with being a modern statesman, his greatest challenge turned out to be dealing with the tide of Arab nationalism that gripped the Arab world during the 1950s and 1960s. The nationalist creed preached that the Arabs could regain their former glory if they united as a single nation. Young Libyans proved no less immune to the pull of this ideology than their contemporaries across the region. Such progressive and self-affirming concepts were appealing, especially in a country that had been in the pockets of Western powers for so long. Next to Libya's traditionalist monarchy, the new Arab nationalist regimes of President Nasser of Egypt and Abdul Karim Kassem of Iraq seemed like a welcome breath of fresh air.

  These new ideas spread easily enough in Libya through the media – and in particular through the Voice of the Arabs radio station that was broadcast from Cairo and that pumped out relentless nationalist propaganda. Thanks to the availability of cheap transistor radios, many young Libyans tuned into the crackly airwaves, this being their only access to the outside world. Nationalist ideas were also disseminated via the hundreds of Egyptian, Palestinian and Sudanese teachers who had been brought in to staff Libya's schools and universities on account of the dearth of qualified locals. Arab nationalist ideas were also circulated by Libyans who had studied at Egyptian universities, as well as by Libyan military officers who had graduated from the Military Academy in Baghdad.21 Thus there was a small but emerging class of educated and salaried middle classes in Libya who looked to Arab nationalism to save them from the political and economic marginalization they experienced at the hands of the outmoded monarchical system.

  These young nationalists not only objected to what they viewed as the backwardness of their own monarchy, but also took umbrage at its continued dependence on foreign powers. This dependence was not insignificant. Given its sorry financial state at independence, in 1953 Libya had signed a twenty-year friendship treaty with Britain. Under this agreement, the British were granted the military facilities and overflying rights they so craved, in return for £1 million a year in economic development aid and £2.75 million a year in budgetary aid for the years 1953–58. The following year Libya signed a similar treaty with the US, promising it the use of the Wheelus airbase in return for generous financial support. These income flows were critical for the country's survival and development. Yet they provoked serious resentment among the nationalists, who viewed them as an extension of colonial domination.

  The foreign military bases provoked particular anger. This was a time when a common Arab consciousness was developing, and the nationalist creed preached that all Arabs were members of a single Arab nation. Libyan nationalists, therefore, feared that these bases might be used against a fellow Arab state. Their anxieties were not unfounded: when President Nasser nationalized the Suez Canal in 1956, Britain seriously considered using its Libyan bases to launch attacks against Egypt. When news of Britain's intentions leaked out, anti-British demonstrations erupted, and some of them turned violent. There was rioting in Benghazi, and dock workers went on strike, refusing to unload British military cargo. As one British Foreign Office official trenchantly observed at the time, ‘Arab blood is thicker than foreign subsidies.’22

  Idris was shaken by these displays of popular anger and by the growing tide of nationalist sentiment. The king knew he could not ignore the growing resentment on Libya's streets that was threatening to provoke serious instability. However, he was in a difficult position. He still needed ongoing financial support from the British, to whom he felt a deep sense of personal loyalty that arose from their longstanding commitment to him. Idris also wanted continued British protection, not only from the Libyan nationalists, but also from Egypt. The frail king was deeply mistrustful of President Nasser and his brand of modernist nationalism, which threatened the traditional way of life that Idris loved so much. He repeatedly voiced the view that Egypt was bent on sowing dissent in other countries, and when asked for his opinion on the Suez Crisis, the king confided to one British official in 1957: ‘Speaking secretly … I consider that Britain should have waited until the Jews had smashed Egypt.’23 So paranoid was Idris about Egypt that he was convinced it was conniving with Algeria to divide Libya up, before
moving on to take Morocco and Sudan.24

  In the face of these conflicting interests, the king tried to strike a balance. His government asked the British to insert a clause into the 1953 treaty promising not to use their Libyan bases for an attack on any Arab state. It also requested that British troops be withdrawn from the big towns, and that those soldiers who went into a town did so only in civilian clothes. The British responded with a partial troop withdrawal, leaving sufficient numbers in place to be able to protect the king. They also established a military academy in Benghazi in 1957 to train up Libyan troops so that the country could defend itself. This was to prove pivotal: it was at this very military academy that the young Qaddafi was trained.

  Despite these moves, the young ideologues took to the streets of Benghazi again in January 1964. What had fired them up this time was the king's decision not to attend a meeting of Arab states in Cairo, at which Arab heads of state were to discuss what action to take against Israel's proposal to divert waters from the River Jordan. The monarch chose to send the unpopular crown prince instead, a move that was taken by the nationalists as an indication of his lack of commitment to the Arab cause. The authorities dealt harshly with these protests, wading in and killing and injuring a number of students. If this heavy-handed response was meant to cow the nationalists into submission, it had the opposite effect: it provoked further demonstrations against the monarchy and the foreign bases, including in Tripoli, where protesters marched on the office of Prime Minister Muhi-Al-Din Al-Fikini, forcing him to resign.

  Given the obvious upsurge in popular feeling, parliament felt it had no choice but to step in and exert some authority with the Palace. In March 1964, the new prime minister, Mahmoud Al-Muntasir, acting on parliament's orders, told Britain and the US that the government would not renew or extend the base agreements. Such audacity on the part of the official institutions of state shook the king to his core. Despite his threat to abdicate over the affair, parliament pressed ahead, and by August 1966 Britain had evacuated its Libyan bases, although small British garrisons remained at a number of locations in Cyrenaica. Wheelus continued to operate, although withdrawal discussions were being held with the Americans.