The (not-so) curious case of Colonel Gaddafi

Is Muammar Gaddafi crazy? Western media outlets have spent the better part of the last two decades implying that he is. Television pundits, magazines and newspapers have produced quizzes, photo spreads and endless paragraphs of writing to argue the case, backed up by the evidence of his eccentric dressing, his penchant for plastic surgery and having his hair dyed, and his over-the-top statements on everything from the Middle East peace process to the possibility of a unified African state. Now that Libya is on the brink of civil war, it seems that powers in Washington, London and other European capitals are more than a little confused, lacking the tools to build a systematic and coherent foreign policy approach to an oil reach and geostrategically significant nation that is run as a personal fiefdom. Yes, it is increasingly clear that the leaders and analysts aren’t quite sure if Gaddafi is crazy, eccentric or just a savvy dictator, even though there has never been a greater need for surety, as Gaddafi is unlikely to be the last example of this particular brand of politicking.

The recent flip-flopping in policy by the UK, French and US policy emphasises the inadequacy of existing, state-centric approaches to global politics and diplomacy in the face of an explosive and unpredictable personality. Oftentimes, it is evident that diplomats are unsure if they are negotiating with the man or the machine, resulting in absurd promises of cooperation or needless compromises in human rights and accountability, such as those accorded by the British government to Tripoli. Faced with the uncertainty, the inclination is to deal with the man and hope that the machine falls into place, which it usually does as long as the proceeds from the exchange continue to flow. The challenge to this unholy equilibrium usually emerges around the time when we are facing some kind of inevitable global crisis – the oil shock did it for the Shah in Iran, the end of the Cold War undid many an African regime, and today the global spike in food prices is shaking the ground underneath the feet of Gaddafi and his ilk across North Africa and the Middle East.

One rule emerging even from the most cursory analysis is that insofar as personal relationships seem to be the cornerstone of international diplomacy, we are clearly willing to walk away from them with remarkable ease. The muted African response to the Libyan crisis highlights the unease that certainly governments, but likely also individuals, feel at criticising a man who has personally bankrolled any remnants of the pan-African idealism of the post-colonial era. Gaddafi has spent a large volume of his personal – probably plundered – wealth to shore up various pan-African initiatives, including the rebirth of the crumbling Organisation of African Unity (OAU) as the relatively invigorated African Union (AU). Similarly, aside from funding most of the significant research that has emerged from the AU, especially on the question of integration, Gaddafi has also through the Libyan Arab African Investment Company (LAICO) overseen substantial investments, especially in the luxury hotel industry at a time when major European and North American backers were pulling out of troubled nations like Gambia, Burkina Faso and Kenya. Several of these governments owe much of their liquidity and continued existence to these investments, and to Gaddafi’s moral ambivalence.

Unfortunately for the colonel, the magnanimity isn’t cutting both ways. While Gaddafi was more than ready to look the other way as Yahya Jammeh in Gambia continued to kill journalists critical of his government, or Blaise Campaoré in Burkina Faso flattened the homes of thousands in order to make space for the new diplomatic quarter Ouaga 2000 – incorporating the luxurious Laico Ouaga 2000 – it seems that in ‘dictatoring’, as in the playground, money can’t buy you friends, or rather can only buy you friends as long as no one else offers them more money. None of these countries spoke up against a recent resolution to eject Libya from the Human Rights Council even though several key Gaddafi allies currently sit on the council. Gaddafi, the self-proclaimed king of kings of all of Africa, who prided himself on cultivating personal relationships with various African leaders and leveraging this to gain influence (especially with the AU), finds himself facing the most significant threat to his presidency apparently friendless. For those opposed to Gaddafi in the first place, this is probably a good development, but for the thousands of mercenaries shipped in by Gaddafi and his allies, not to mention the ordinary Libyan people, it introduces a new front in the conflict. If Gaddafi survives this revolution, his relations with the rest of Africa are likely to be soured; if he doesn’t, it is unlikely that the incoming regime will be even half as warm to African interests.

In the same breath, as the West scrambles over itself to back track on the increasing warmth that many nations had extended to the long-serving dictator, we are starkly reminded of the fluidity of the values that govern international politics. Aside from the insatiable thirst that Western nations have for oil – a moral blind spot that makes it alright to look the other way as illegal immigrants are allowed to drown, or political dissidents and suspected Al Qaeda operatives are tortured – there is also the historical pattern of accommodating the excesses of larger-than-life personalities in order to pursue ‘stability’. Gaddafi is the latest in a long line of eccentric authoritarian rulers that have merited a ‘look the other way’ response from Western nations, a list that represents a veritable who’s who of brutal dictators, including Mobutu Sese Seko, Omar Bongo and Sani Abacha, in efforts to maintain some kind of predictability in international politics. Indeed, the progress of the uprising in Libya is a reminder of the dangers of an international morality built around individuals, amended or retracted at will, depending on the situation that said individual finds themselves in, and with authoritarianism still de rigeur in many parts of the world it is extremely unlikely that Gaddafi will be the last beneficiary of this particular treatment.

In fact, it is almost absurd that so many quarters are only now falling over themselves to criticise Gaddafi, as if with the exception of the Lockerbie bombing, the previous 42 years had not happened. Even conceding that Gaddafi’s disproportionate use of force against his people in recent weeks is a dark turn in the country’s politics, it is hardly unprecedented or even unexpected. This is the man who personally sponsored some of the most brutal conflicts in West Africa, funding and training the likes of Charles Taylor and Forday Sankoh, who in turn meted out some of the most disgusting acts of violence on their own people. He has run Libya as a veritable fortress in the last four decades, and recent reports confirm that many Libyans are frightened of their leader and concerned about his capacity to inflict physical and economic harm. Gaddafi didn’t change – hasn’t changed – and one wonders if the Libyan people would have continued to be ignored had they not taken up arms against him.

If Gaddafi is crazy, then of course it barely matters what we do in Libya – the exigency of the situation demands a prompt, if ambiguous response. But on the chance that he isn’t, that instead he is simply very good at playing a deeply flawed system – and I believe that he is – then it’s high time that the international community started to work towards resolving the inconsistencies of its approach to rulers like him. The lesson in Libya for the international community is clear: the age of propping up regimes constructed around flamboyant individuals is dead, regardless of how much oil lies underneath their territory. Otherwise, it’s only a matter of time before the next crisis breeds the next Libya.

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