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The NS Profile: Muammar al-Gaddafi

The‘‘mad dog of the Middle East’’ is back in the spotlight, 41 years after he took power.

Shortly before he died in 1970, the Egyptian president Gamal Abdel Nasser said: "I rather like Gaddafi. He reminds me of myself when I was that age." As a teenager growing up in the desert outside Sirte, Gaddafi had been an avid listener to Nasser's inflammatory Arab nationalist broadcasts on Radio Cairo. His school had even expelled him for organising a student strike in support of the Egyptian leader. Here was the "leader of the Arabs", who had humiliated the old colonial powers during Suez and brought the promise of unity to the region, giving his blessing. To the young colonel, still not 30, there could have been no greater compliment.

Gaddafi seemed worthy of the older man's mantle when he came to power in Libya on 1 September 1969, deposing the weak, pro-western king Idris while the monarch was receiving medical treatment abroad. By the end of 1970, he had expelled between 15,000 and 25,000 of the despised Italians who had occupied Libya from 1911-41, removed the US and British military bases, and turned Tripoli's Catholic cathedral into the Gamal Abdel Nasser Mosque.

Forty years on, Gaddafi is the object of international vilification once again. Yet America's fury at the Lockerbie bomber's triumphant repatriation does not change the fact that the Libyan leader is now a friend of the west. He has held meetings with Tony Blair and Gordon Brown, and Silvio Berlusconi greeted him with a warm embrace when his plane touched down at Ciam­pino Airport in Rome in June. The former "mad dog of the Middle East", as Ronald Reagan called him, is even due to address the UN General Assembly in New York on 23 September. He has stopped offering sanctuary to and sponsoring terrorists, and traded his WMD programme for the normalisation of relations with the west.

None of this would have been conceivable during Gaddafi's early years in power. By the late 1960s, oil revenues were rapidly increasing - Libya overtook Kuwait as the world's fifth-largest exporter in 1969 - and Gaddafi played an important role in the 1973-74 oil crisis in which Opec cut production and raised prices, by leading the embargo on shipments to the US. At the same time as making good on his promises to provide free education and health care (as well as subsidised housing) for Libya's small population, he could back his ambition for regional hegemony with money, providing subsidies to Egypt and to others he saw as allies in the fight against Israel.

But Gaddafi did not limit his aid to Israel's enemies. Over time, it seemed any group that styled itself as a freedom movement could call on the Libyan state purse, from the IRA to the Moro National Liberation Front in the Philippines. Although his dreams of a pan-Arab merger with Tunisia, Egypt and Syria failed, Gaddafi's influence was felt far and wide. This frequently alarmed his neighbours, as did his erratic behaviour. In 1973, for instance, the QEII set sail from Southampton to Haifa full of Jewish passengers celebrating the 25th anniversary of the State of Israel. According to Nasser's successor Anwar al-Sadat, Gaddafi ordered an Egyptian submarine temporarily under his command to torpedo the liner: a directive countermanded only when Sadat ordered the sub to return to base in Alexandria.

Those who have met the "Brother Leader and Guide of the Revolution" over the decades describe him as "dramatic", "charismatic", "camp" (a television reporter who interviewed him in the 1970s told me he was convinced Gaddafi was wearing eyeliner) and always "unpredictable". He surrounds himself with female bodyguards, and broke wind noisily throughout an interview with the BBC's John Simpson. In March, he stormed out of an Arab summit in Qatar, declaring himself "the dean of the Arab rulers, the king of kings of Africa and the imam of all Muslims". Such behaviour can, but should not, obscure the reality that he presided over a police state that dealt brutally with anyone perceived to pose a threat. By 1975, Sadat was already describing him as "100 per cent sick and possessed by the devil".

But for all Gaddafi's rashness during this decade (he also launched abortive invasions of Chad in 1972 and 1980), initially at least the west gave the young colonel's new regime the green light. "We thought he was a bit left-wing," says a British source, "but not too bad, and that we could deal with him." The US even supplied him with intelligence support. Very soon after the coup that brought him to power, the CIA warned him of a plot within the Revolutionary Command Council, Libya's supreme authority, allowing him to arrest and imprison the ring­leaders. News travelled, and Gaddafi gained a reputation in the region for enjoying America's favour. Although this had mostly evaporated by the end of the decade, Billy Carter, brother of the US president Jimmy Carter, still attended celebrations marking the tenth anniversary of Gaddafi's accession on 1 September 1979. In one of the many embarrassments he caused his brother, it was later revealed that Billy had received a $220,000 loan from the Libyan government.

The change was decisive once Ronald Reagan entered the Oval Office in 1981. That August, the US air force shot down two Libyan fighter planes in disputed waters in the Mediterranean. Reagan ordered US citizens to leave the country and refused US passport holders permission to travel there. By the end of the year, his administration was claiming that Libya had plans to assassinate the president and, if that failed, would target other senior officials such as the vice-president George H W Bush, the secretary of state Al Haig and the defence secretary Caspar Weinberger.

After four more years of skirmishes and ineffective sanctions, Reagan seized on a specific incident that he felt could justify a forceful strike on the Libyan regime: the bombing in April 1986 of a West Berlin disco packed with off-duty US servicemen. The US reprisal, in which Gaddafi's adopted daughter Hanna died, was controversial. There were suggestions - since given more credence - that Syria or Iran was behind the disco bombings. No European ally apart from Britain would give permission to the US to use its bases to launch the attack. Today, the Tory MP Daniel Kawczynski, chairman of the parliamentary all-party Libya group and author of a forthcoming biography of Gaddafi, says: "More questions should have been asked in parliament. We were rather gung-ho in supporting the attack."

As far as Britain was concerned, two incidents confirmed Gaddafi as the leader of a terrorist state: the fatal shooting of PC Yvonne Fletcher by a gunman inside the Libyan embassy in London in 1984, and the 1988 downing of the Pan Am jet at Lockerbie. These continue to be the main stumbling blocks to Gaddafi's final rehabilitation in the eyes of the west, as the international row over the repatriation from a Scottish prison of Abdelbaset Ali al-Megrahi has demonstrated. "The man who shot PC Yvonne Fletcher has been identified in Tripoli," says Kawczynski. "For us to let them have al-Megrahi without insisting on a statement about her is ludicrous." The Tory MP is also working with the Northern Irish Democratic Unionist Party to try to secure compensation for the victims of Libyan-funded IRA atrocities. He says he has repeatedly raised these issues with government ministers, but has been rebuffed. "'Don't rock the boat,' was what one of them said to me."

The story of how the "mad dog" came in from the cold goes back to the 1990s, when Kofi Annan and Nelson Mandela persuaded the Libyan leader that the two Lockerbie suspects should stand trial (al-Megrahi's co-defendant was acquitted). The UN immediately suspended sanctions it had imposed in 1992 and 1993. When Gaddafi was quick to condemn the attacks of 11 September 2001 as acts of terrorism, urging Libyans to donate blood for use by American victims, it seemed another remarkable volte-face by a man who would once have been expected to revel in US misfortune.

In fact, it was a sign that Gaddafi was never the irrational maverick some liked to say he was. Sanctions had hit the Libyan economy hard, depriving the country of the specialists and the markets it needed to exploit its oil wealth; and two other factors had left him short of allies. As the diplomat and Middle East specialist Sir Mark Allen, who was one of the UK's negotiators in the talks that led to Britain's rapprochement with Libya, writes in his book, Arabs: "At the end of the cold war, the Arab left was stranded . . . The region was retuning . . . The reference points were not left or right, monarchical tradition or the promises of socialism, but fidelity to the example of the early Muslim community."

After Egypt and Israel made peace at Camp David, Gaddafi turned ever closer to the Soviet Union, which stationed thousands of military advisers inhis country and from which he bought billions of dollars of arms. But once the USSR collapsed, says Oliver Miles, a former British ambassador to Libya, "he saw that if Uncle Sam was going to give him a kick, there was no one there to protect him". Nor was it conceivable that he could embrace the Islamists who, in fact, posed a threat to his rule. "He was deeply concerned about the threat from al-Qaeda," says Mike O'Brien, who as a Foreign Office minister was the first member of a British government to meet Gaddafi in 2002. "He had always promoted a more secularist, nationalist agenda."

He had set out his views at great length during his first decade in power, in the three volumes of his Green Book. His "Third Universal Theory" supposedly combined Islam with socialism - though the loose structure he presided over, which allowed for relatively free discussion by his associates before the leader took the final decision and retired to his tent in the desert, could be viewed as owing just as much to Arab, tribal forms of decision-making. Yet however one views Gaddafi's philosophy, he has long set his face against the Islamists, and he acted against ex-mujahedin fighters returning from Afghan­istan in the mid-1990s when other Arab states welcomed them home. Indeed, Gaddafi was the first leader to call for an international arrest warrant for Osama Bin Laden in 1998.

Once Gaddafi took the step to open up and dismantle his WMD programme, and then agree compensation for victims of Lockerbie, the way was open for the inter­national community to welcome Libya back. Gaddafi's son and possible heir, Saif, is clear about the path Libya is now taking. "The future is with more liberalism, more freedom, with democracy," he said in an interview with Time magazine. "This is the evolution of the entire world, and you either go with it or be left behind."

O'Brien, for one, is convinced. "Gaddafi is an intelligent guy who has been in control for 40 years," he says. "He realised that the only way to extradite himself from his difficulties was to use Libya's oil and gas wealth. This was realpolitik. He recognises that the world has changed and that he has to change with it."

For those who believe the west made a disastrous mistake in opposing the wave of nationalist politicians who came to power in the Middle East from the 1950s onwards, there is an irony. Gaddafi is the last of that generation, and while others who cloaked themselves in the rhetoric of Nasser have fallen, failed or died, it is the young man once praised by the Egyptian president who now appears to be becoming the kind of Arab leader with whom we can, and with whom we wish, to do business.

Sholto Byrnes is a Contributing Editor to the New Statesman

This article first appeared in the 31 August 2009 issue of the New Statesman, The next 100 years

Photo: Getty Images
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When will the government take action to tackle the plight of circus animals?

Britain is lagging behind the rest of the world - and innocent animals are paying the price. 

It has been more than a year since the Prime Minister reiterated his commitment to passing legislation to impose a ban on the suffering of circus animals in England and Wales. How long does it take to get something done in Parliament?

I was an MP for more than two decades, so that’s a rhetorical question. I’m well aware that important issues like this one can drag on, but the continued lack of action to help stop the suffering of animals in circuses is indefensible.

Although the vast majority of the British public doesn’t want wild animals used in circuses (a public consultation on the issue found that more than 94 per cent of the public wanted to see a ban implemented and the Prime Minister promised to prohibit the practice by January 2015, no government bill on this issue was introduced during the last parliament.

A private member’s bill, introduced in 2013, was repeatedly blocked in the House of Commons by three MPs, so it needs a government bill to be laid if we are to have any hope of seeing this practice banned.

This colossal waste of time shames Britain, while all around the world, governments have been taking decisive action to stop the abuse of wild animals in circuses. Just last month, Catalonia’s Parliament overwhelmingly voted to ban it. While our own lawmakers dragged their feet, the Netherlands approved a ban that comes into effect later this year, as did Malta and Mexico. Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus, North America’s longest-running circus, has pledged to retire all the elephants it uses by 2018. Even in Iran, a country with precious few animal-welfare laws, 14 states have banned this archaic form of entertainment. Are we really lagging behind Iran?

The writing has long been on the wall. Only two English circuses are still clinging to this antiquated tradition of using wild animals, so implementing a ban would have very little bearing on businesses operating in England and Wales. But it would have a very positive impact on the animals still being exploited.

Every day that this legislation is delayed is another one of misery for the large wild animals, including tigers, being hauled around the country in circus wagons. Existing in cramped cages and denied everything that gives their lives meaning, animals become lethargic and depressed. Their spirits broken, many develop neurotic and abnormal behaviour, such as biting the bars of their cages and constantly pacing. It’s little wonder that such tormented creatures die far short of their natural life spans.

Watching a tiger jump through a fiery hoop may be entertaining to some, but we should all be aware of what it entails for the animal. UK laws require that animals be provided with a good quality of life, but the cruelty inherent in confining big, wild animals, who would roam miles in the wild, to small, cramped spaces and forcing them to engage in unnatural and confusing spectacles makes that impossible in circuses.

Those who agree with me can join PETA’s campaign to urge government to listen to the public and give such animals a chance to live as nature intended.


The Right Honourable Ann Widdecombe was an MP for 23 years and served as Shadow Home Secretary. She is a novelist, documentary maker and newspaper columnist.

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What Jeremy Corbyn can learn from Orwell

Corbyn’s ideas may echo George Orwell’s – but they’d need Orwell’s Britain to work. It’s time Corbyn accepted the British as they are today.

All Labour Party leaderships since 1900 have offered themselves as “new”, but Tony Blair’s succession in 1994 triggered a break with the past so ruthless that the Labour leadership virtually declared war on the party. Now it is party members’ turn and they, for now at any rate, think that real Labour is Jeremy.

To Keir Hardie, real Labour had been a trade union lobby expounding Fellowship. To the Webbs, real Labour was “common ownership” by the best means available. Sidney’s Clause Four (adopted 1918) left open what that might be. In the 1920s, the Christian Socialist R H Tawney stitched Equality into the banner, but during the Depression young intellectuals such as Evan Durbin and Hugh Gaitskell designated Planning as Labour’s modern mission. After the Second World War, Clement Attlee followed the miners (and the London Passenger Transport Board) into Nationalisation. Harold Wilson tried to inject Science and Technology into the mix but everything after that was an attempt to move Labour away from state-regulated markets and in the direction of market-regulated states.

What made the recent leadership contest so alarming was how broken was the intellectual tradition. None of the candidates made anything of a long history of thinking about the relationship between socialism and what the people want. Yvette Cooper wanted to go over the numbers; only they were the wrong numbers. Andy Burnham twisted and turned. Liz Kendall based her bid on two words: “Have me.” Only Jeremy Corbyn seemed to have any kind of Labour narrative to tell and, of course, ever the ­rebel, he was not responsible for any of it. His conference address in Brighton was little more than the notes of a street-corner campaigner to a small crowd.

Given the paucity of thinking, and this being an English party for now, it is only a matter of time before George Orwell is brought in to see how Jeremy measures up. In fact, it’s happened already. Rafael Behr in the Guardian and Nick Cohen in the Spectator both see him as the kind of hard-left intellectual Orwell dreaded, while Charles Cooke in the National Review and Jason Cowley in the New Statesman joined unlikely fashion forces to take a side-look at Jeremy’s dreadful dress sense – to Orwell, a sure sign of a socialist. Cooke thought he looked like a “burned-out geography teacher at a third-rate comprehensive”. Cowley thought he looked like a red-brick university sociology lecturer circa 1978. Fair enough. He does. But there is more. Being a middle-class teetotal vegetarian bicycling socialistic feministic atheistic metropolitan anti-racist republican nice guy, with allotment and “squashily pacifist” leanings to match, clearly puts him in the land of the cranks as described by Orwell in The Road to Wigan Pier (1937) – one of “that dreary tribe of high-minded women and sandal-wearers and bearded fruit-juice drinkers who come flocking towards the smell of ‘progress’ like bluebottles to a dead cat”. And though Corbyn, as “a fully fledged, fully bearded, unabashed socialist” (Huffington Post), might make all true Orwellians twitch, he really made their day when he refused to sing the National Anthem. Orwell cited precisely that (see “The Lion and the Unicorn”, 1941) as an example of the distance between left-wing intellectuals and the people. It seemed that, by standing there, mouth shut, Comrade Corbyn didn’t just cut his wrists, he lay down full length in the coffin and pulled the lid shut.


Trouble is, this line of attack not only misrepresents the Labour leader, it misrepresents Orwell. For the great man was not as unflinchingly straight and true as some people think. It is impossible, for instance, to think of Orwell singing “God Save the King”, because he, too, was one of that “dreary tribe” of London lefties, and even when he joined Labour he remained ever the rebel. As for Corbyn, for a start, he is not badly dressed. He just doesn’t look like Chuka or Tristram. He may look like a threadbare schoolteacher, but Orwell was one twice over. Orwell was never a vegetarian or a teetotaller, but, like Corbyn, neither was he interested in fancy food (or drink), he kept an allotment, drove a motorbike, bicycled, cared about the poor, cared about the environment, loathed the empire, came close to pacifism at one point, and opposed war with Germany well past the time when it was reasonable to do so.

In Orwell’s thinking about socialism, for too long his main reference point was the London Marxist left. Not only did he make speeches in favour of revolutions, he took part in one with a gun in his hand. Orwell was far more interested, as Corbyn has been far more interested, in speaking truth to power than in holding office. His loyalty was to the movement, or at least the idea of the movement, not to MPs or the front bench, which he rarely mentioned. There is nothing in Corbyn’s position that would have shocked Orwell and, should they have met, there’d have been much to talk about: belief in public ownership and non-economic values, confidence in the state’s ability to make life better, progressive taxation, national health, state education, social care, anti-socially useless banking, anti-colonialism and a whole lot of other anti-isms besides. It’s hard to be sure what Orwell’s position would have been on Trident and immigration. Not Corbyn’s, I suspect. He was not as alert to feminism as he might have been but equally, few men try to write novels from a woman’s point of view and all Orwellians recognise that Julia is the dark hero of Nineteen Eighty-Four. In truth they are both austere types, not in it for themselves and not on anyone else’s expense account either. Corbyn won the leadership because this shone through from the very beginning. He came across as unaffected and straightforward – much as Orwell tried to be in his writing.

Except, as powerfully expressed in these pages by John Gray, Corbyn’s politics were made for another world. What sort of world would he need? First off, he’d need a regulated labour market: regulated by the state in partnership with a labour movement sensitive to what people wanted and experienced in trying to provide it. He would also need capital controls, a manufacturing base capable of building the new investment with Keynesian payback, an efficient and motivated Inland Revenue, a widespread public-service ethos that sees the country as an asset, not a market, and an overwhelming democratic mandate to get things done. In other words, Corbyn needs Orwell’s Britain – not this one – and at the very least, if he can’t have that, he needs the freedom to act that the European Commission forbids.

There’s another problem. Orwell did not trust left-wing intellectuals and spent half his life trying to work out their motivations as a class who spoke for the people, went in search of the people, and praised the people, but did not know them or believe in them. True, Corbyn says he wants to be open and inclusive, but we know he can’t possibly mean it when he says it will be the party, not him or the PLP, that will decide policy, just as we knew it couldn’t possibly be true when he said he’d turn PMQs into the People’s Question Time. Jeremy hasn’t changed his mind in forty years, appears to have great difficulty (unlike Tony Benn) in fusing socialism to national identity or experience (Hardie, Ben Okri and Maya Angelou were bolted on to his Brighton speech) and seems to think that not being happy with what you are given somehow captures the historic essence of socialism (rather than its opposite).

Granted, not thinking outside the ­circle is an inherent fault of the sectarian left but some of our most prominent left-wing journalists have it, too. Working-class support for nationalisation? Good. Right answer! Working-class opposition to benefit scroungers and further mass immigration? Bad. Wrong answer! Would you like to try again? In his essay “In Defence of Comrade Zilliacus” (1947) Orwell reckoned that left-wing intellectuals saw only what they wanted to see. For all their talk of representing the people, they hated the masses. “What they are frightened of is the prevailing opinion within their own group . . . there is always an orthodoxy, a parrot-cry . . .”

The game is hard and he may go down in a welter of knives, yet Corbyn still has time. He may go on making the same speech – on the benefits of apple pie to apple growers – but at some point he will have to drop the wish-list and get on the side of the British people as they are, and live with that, and build into it. Only the nation state can even begin to do the things he wants to do. The quicker he gets that, the quicker we can see if the latest incarnation of new Labour has a future.

Robert Colls is the author of “George Orwell: English Rebel” (Oxford University Press)

This article first appeared in the 08 October 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin vs Isis