The Libyan revolution, one year on

A former resident of Tripoli charts the country's new journalism, justice system and civil society.

It's exactly one year since the official start of the Libyan revolution and Amnesty International marked the occasion with a damning report into the widespread human rights abuses committed by armed militias in the country and the failure of the National Transitional Council (NTC) to hold these armed groups to account. "A year ago Libyans risked their lives to demand justice. Today their hopes are being jeopardised by lawless armed militias who trample human rights with impunity," Amnesty's senior crisis response adviser, Donatella Rovera, said.

It made me wonder: at what point can you call a revolution a failure? If a post-revolutionary regime shows no more respect for individual rights than the ousted dictatorship, this seriously calls into doubt whether the revolution can deliver on the hopes of ordinary people.

In darker moments, I have questioned whether the violence was all worth it. If the revolution hadn't ignited a year ago, many lives would have been saved, my friends would still have their jobs, Libya would still be a safe, stable country. If you had lost a child in the fight against the old regime, I have asked myself, would you still think that overthrowing Gaddafi was the right thing to do, or would this question -- the underlying assumption that a loved-one's death was in vain -- be too painful to ask?

In the UK, many have been quick to pronounce the revolution a failure, and some declared it a disaster before it even really began. Britain's military intervention has helped encourage this perspective, but the government's infamous hypocrisy when it comes to befriending or ousting dictators shouldn't obscure the fact that Gaddafi committed terrible crimes against his people. When commentators jump from pointing out the UK's tarnished record with authoritarian regimes to arguing that Gaddafi wasn't as bad as all that, they make an unjustifiable leap of logic.

Counter-intuitively, perhaps, my painful re-reading of an argument along these lines -- Hugh Roberts' piece for the London Review of Books -- has reminded me of why, despite everything, Libya's revolution was not in vain. "It is tendentious and dishonest to say simply that Gaddafi was 'killing his own people'; he was killing those of his people who were rebelling. He was doing in this respect what every government in history has done when faced with a rebellion," Roberts writes. But not every government in history guns down peaceful protestors. Not every government in history tortures and executes anyone guilty, or simply accused, of criticising public policy. When there was no other way to bring about change, Libya's revolutionaries chose to meet Gaddafi's violence with violence, not vice versa. Gaddafi didn't start "killing his own people" in 2011; he had maintained his power through the strategic use of violence against civilians for over 40 years. The question of the legitimacy of the British government's support for the revolution shouldn't be confused with the question of whether the revolution itself was right.

The violence has not yet completely subsided. Many Libyans are still scared today. They are scared to go out at night because of sporadic fighting and an increase in crime; scared that someone they know will be in the wrong place at the wrong time when a gun battle erupts. But they were scared a year ago, too.

When you live in a police state, you live in constant fear. It may be a different type of fear from the more immediate threat of violence; you may sometimes forget it's even there. The constant niggling worry that you'll say or do something wrong and that the consequences will be huge become a part of your being. I know this, because whenever I left Libya, my sense of relief was physical. When I arrived in Heathrow after my first two months in Tripoli, my brother asked me "so, is Gaddafi as mad as people think he is?" and my first reaction was to look around in alarm to see if anyone was listening to our conversation. It's amazing how quickly such caution can become second nature, and how satisfying it can be to finally speak freely.

Libyans are relishing their new-found freedom of speech. I used to wonder, when I flicked through the sterile state news stories, how a free press would ever develop in Libya. Government propaganda seemed so pervasive that at times it felt like people had forgotten how to tell a story. Now independent media outlets are blossoming all over the country, and almost everyone I know is either starting a magazine or writing for one. Some magazines refuse to edit submissions -- not necessarily the best way to ensure quality journalism, my editor would undoubtedly retort -- but in the present atmosphere, editing seems too close to censorship. "You are most welcome to share your thoughts loudly," one of my friends said when inviting me to submit a piece to his new magazine. "Feel free to say the truth, even if it hurts the Libyan people to hear it." This is a truly monumental change.

Libyan civil society is flourishing too. Many of my friends are setting up or working for new NGOs: medical charities, reconciliation and women's rights groups that have emerged, seemingly from nowhere. I remember once commenting on how much rubbish littered the streets all over Libya, and a friend of mine answering with uncharacteristic frankness that "it's not just a question of educating people about dropping litter, it's because people have given up caring about public spaces a long time ago." Forty years into Gaddafi's rule, the whole country had retreated into their family units, but now they are developing a public spirit, a sense of ownership over their country, and a feeling of fellowship with their countrymen where once there was only distrust. This, too, is an amazing development.

Despite ongoing violence and instability, many Libyans are feeling positive for the future. When I asked Yusef Sawie, an old friend of mine now working as a news reporter and translator in Tripoli, about the mood in the country, he pointed not only to the joyful street parties, but to private ones. Many young couples have chosen to get married on the 17th -- the hairdressers he spoke to say they haven't been this busy for years, with some coiffing 25 brides in one day. And there's less anecdotal evidence of continued optimism, too. A survey by research company ORB of over 1,000 Libyans in Benghazi, Tripoli and Misrata has found that four out of five respondents agree that "the country is heading in the right direction".

I too believe that Libya is heading in the right direction. That is not to belittle Amnesty's report: action to protect the rights of suspected Gaddafi loyalists must be taken quickly and decisively. More than anything, the success of the revolution depends on the NTC's ability to establish the respect for human rights and individual freedom that was so lacking during Gaddafi's forty-year rule. Those responsible for human rights abuses, on both sides, must be brought to justice.

The challenges facing the revolution are immense, the war-torn country needs to be demilitarised and rebuilt, and a functioning justice system, police force, and the apparatus of democratic government will have to be built from nothing. But the revolution has not failed yet.

Sophie McBain is a staff writer for Spear's

Sophie McBain is a freelance writer based in Cairo. She was previously an assistant editor at the New Statesman.

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The rise of the green mayor – Sadiq Khan and the politics of clean energy

At an event at Tate Modern, Sadiq Khan pledged to clean up London's act.

On Thursday night, deep in the bowls of Tate Modern’s turbine hall, London Mayor Sadiq Khan renewed his promise to make the capital a world leader in clean energy and air. Yet his focus was as much on people as power plants – in particular, the need for local authorities to lead where central governments will not.

Khan was there to introduce the screening of a new documentary, From the Ashes, about the demise of the American coal industry. As he noted, Britain continues to battle against the legacy of fossil fuels: “In London today we burn very little coal but we are facing new air pollution challenges brought about for different reasons." 

At a time when the world's leaders are struggling to keep international agreements on climate change afloat, what can mayors do? Khan has pledged to buy only hybrid and zero-emissions buses from next year, and is working towards London becoming a zero carbon city.

Khan has, of course, also gained heroic status for being a bête noire of climate-change-denier-in-chief Donald Trump. On the US president's withdrawal from the Paris Agreement, Khan quipped: “If only he had withdrawn from Twitter.” He had more favourable things to say about the former mayor of New York and climate change activist Michael Bloomberg, who Khan said hailed from “the second greatest city in the world.”

Yet behind his humour was a serious point. Local authorities are having to pick up where both countries' central governments are leaving a void – in improving our air and supporting renewable technology and jobs. Most concerning of all, perhaps, is the way that interest groups representing business are slashing away at the regulations which protect public health, and claiming it as a virtue.

In the UK, documents leaked to Greenpeace’s energy desk show that a government-backed initiative considered proposals for reducing EU rules on fire-safety on the very day of the Grenfell Tower fire. The director of this Red Tape Initiative, Nick Tyrone, told the Guardian that these proposals were rejected. Yet government attempts to water down other EU regulations, such as the energy efficiency directive, still stand.

In America, this blame-game is even more highly charged. Republicans have sworn to replace what they describe as Obama’s “war on coal” with a war on regulation. “I am taking historic steps to lift the restrictions on American energy, to reverse government intrusion, and to cancel job-killing regulations,” Trump announced in March. While he has vowed “to promote clean air and clear water,” he has almost simultaneously signed an order to unravel the Clean Water Rule.

This rhetoric is hurting the very people it claims to protect: miners. From the Ashes shows the many ways that the industry harms wider public health, from water contamination, to air pollution. It also makes a strong case that the American coal industry is in terminal decline, regardless of possibile interventions from government or carbon capture.

Charities like Bloomberg can only do so much to pick up the pieces. The foundation, which helped fund the film, now not only helps support job training programs in coal communities after the Trump administration pulled their funding, but in recent weeks it also promised $15m to UN efforts to tackle climate change – again to help cover Trump's withdrawal from Paris Agreement. “I'm a bit worried about how many cards we're going to have to keep adding to the end of the film”, joked Antha Williams, a Bloomberg representative at the screening, with gallows humour.

Hope also lies with local governments and mayors. The publication of the mayor’s own environment strategy is coming “soon”. Speaking in panel discussion after the film, his deputy mayor for environment and energy, Shirley Rodrigues, described the move to a cleaner future as "an inevitable transition".

Confronting the troubled legacies of our fossil fuel past will not be easy. "We have our own experiences here of our coal mining communities being devastated by the closure of their mines," said Khan. But clean air begins with clean politics; maintaining old ways at the price of health is not one any government must pay. 

'From The Ashes' will premiere on National Geograhpic in the United Kingdom at 9pm on Tuesday, June 27th.

India Bourke is an environment writer and editorial assistant at the New Statesman.

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