Gadhafi tries to keep up with Libya's rapid change

By Niko Price
The Associated Press

	AP "The Leader," Col. Moammar Gadhafi
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When he declared green the color of his revolution, a nation painted its doorways. When he proclaimed his Third Universal Theory, academics authored 1,000 studies of it. When he renamed the months of the year, Libyans celebrated Valentine's Day in "Bird" and Revolution Day in "Conquest."

But suddenly, Col. Moammar Gadhafi finds himself scrambling to keep up with his people.

In the latest incarnation of Gadhafi's Libya, the government is opening up to the Western world, making amends for its terrorist past and vowing to live a peaceful existence without the burden of renegade allies or weapons of mass destruction.

Gadhafi, 61, had little choice. Libya's people — whether on the gritty streets of Tripoli or amid the decaying splendor of ancient desert towns — have already moved far beyond the isolating strictures he imposed. Libyans have embraced the world and entered the 21st century.

They are learning English and using the Internet to chat with relatives in the United States. They watch "Big Brother" on satellite TV. They follow news of European elections, the war in Iraq and the bird-flu virus. They debate democracy and explore international business opportunities.

Foreign companies are back, with multibillion-dollar contracts to overhaul Libya's outdated oil infrastructure. With U.N. sanctions lifted, Libya's economy is waking up, and grandiose new projects promise big new money.

Libyans have outgrown their insular system, and their leader, in power since he overthrew King Idris I in 1969, is anxious not to be left behind.

"It's not something where he had a choice in it," says Hafez Ali Khalifa, a neurosurgeon. "You go with the flow, and he's going with the flow."

'Innovative support of terror'

	JOHN MOORE / AP Security is still tight, as a plainclothes officer, center, watches the entrance to Tripoli's old quarter. The new Gate to Africa hotel at the rear foreshadows Libya's future.

During much of his rule over his Alaska-size country of 5.5 million people, Gadhafi has gone resolutely against the flow.

He succored such terrorist fanatics as Abu Nidal. He shipped weapons to the Irish Republican Army. He meddled in neighboring African countries with sometimes destructive results.

Gunfire from his London embassy at anti-Gadhafi demonstrators killed a British policewoman. It took him nearly 15 years to shoulder responsibility for the bomb that blew up Pan Am Flight 103, killing 270 people.

"Libya was extraordinarily innovative in its support of terrorism," says Magnus Ranstorp, director of the Center for the Study of Terrorism and Political Violence at St. Andrews University in Scotland.

Libya supported not only the IRA, Basque separatists and Palestinians, but also obscure movements in the Caribbean and South Pacific, providing money and training "even in the most unusual places where you had small liberation movements," Ranstorp says.

The United States, whose warplanes dropped bombs on Libya in a 1986 retaliation for a terrorist attack in Germany, was the arch-enemy. In the government's propaganda, it still is.

In Tripoli's Advancement Primary School, there is a mural of an eagle, Libya's national bird, shredding a U.S. flag in its talons. Fifth-grade textbooks tell children they have a duty to "protect and defend the nation and destroy its greedy and envious enemies."

"Arab unity! African unity!" children chant during morning calisthenics. "Allahu Akbar! We are the youth of the future! We are the army of the future!"

But when the bell rings, the kids fan out to Internet cafes with fast connections and cheap rates, open AOL Instant Messenger and chat about the latest installment of the "Lord of the Rings."

They go home to watch "Frasier" via satellite TV dishes that sprout from even the humblest apartment blocks. They flip on stereos to listen to Justin Timberlake, even if news of his Super Bowl scandal with Janet Jackson has gone unmentioned in the official press.

There is a disconnect in Libya between the state-sponsored dogma and life on the streets. It's not that everyone rejects the propaganda they are fed; it's just less relevant to their lives.

Gadhafi's image remains everywhere in Libya. From street corners, park lampposts and shop counters, he smiles in African robes, raises his fist in military uniform, glowers in turban and outsized sunglasses.

Gadhafi's photo stands above the counter of the new Afaaq Co. for advertising, publishing and printing. But in manager Radwan al-Qaeed's office, the only posters are of European landscapes.

Al-Qaeed, 30, beams beneath his carefully gelled hair as he talks excitedly about expansion. His company makes commemorative pins and brochures for the government, but the real money — and al-Qaeed's interest — lies elsewhere.

"Every business needs advertising," he says. "I want to extend my company internationally. I hope I can take it to the United States."

	JOHN MOORE / AP Libya has a 72 percent literacy rate and 90 percent primary-school attendance, among the highest in Africa. Lujain Hamouda, center, 4, claps with preschool classmates at a Tripoli school.

Al-Qaeed works tirelessly, scanning the Internet day and night for potential deals. He has just returned from a trade show in the United Arab Emirates, and brought back brochures from suppliers in Florida and New Hampshire.

He has little time to mull over Gadhafi's latest whims.

"Most people my age are in private business," he says. "Politics doesn't really interest us."

It's all about oil

What does interest people is economics. And that, too, is changing.

Since Gadhafi came to power, Libya's oil production, which accounts for almost all of its foreign earnings, has dropped from more than 3 million barrels a day to just 1.4 million. Libya remains one of Africa's richest nations, but life has become increasingly tough.

Libyans fervently believe that if U.S. sanctions are lifted, their oil industry will take off and they will again be wealthy. In anticipation, the country has asked OPEC to raise its export quota from 1.3 million barrels a day to 2 million.

Work has already begun. Bringing in European and Asian companies to provide the technology and experience, the government is building a $5 billion pipeline to pump natural gas under the Mediterranean Sea, from Libyan fields to Italian power plants.

Libya is about to put out bids for a $2 billion upgrade of an important oil refinery, and officials say the government will soon offer a set of major contracts for oil exploration in the Libyan desert.

"Libya is still virgin," says Mohammed Abouzaid Naser, an official at the Zawya Oil Refinery. "There are lots of areas that haven't been explored yet."

Libya is also changing its financial institutions, and in January invited officials from the International Monetary Fund for the first time since the revolution.

Libyan officials say they can make improvements with the help of European and Asian companies, but what they really want is for the Americans to come back.

"It will make a big difference," says Zawya's operations manager, Khalifa Sahli. "The Americans have a good share of the technology in the oil business."

Less socialist by the day

Given the changes, people say there can be no turning back for Gadhafi.

The Great Socialist People's Libyan Arab Jamahiriya is already looking less socialist by the day and has announced plans to privatize 361 state companies.

The teachings of Gadhafi's Green Book have fallen by the wayside. The book banned wage labor, but Libyans work as janitors for foreign companies. The book said offering a car for hire was the "domination of the needs of others," but Tripoli now boasts a swarm of rental agencies.

And while Gadhafi once drove the Americans from his soil, he is now trying to win them back with promises that he won't support terrorists or try to build the nuclear weapons.

"We realize that the world is entering a new stage, and we realize that we should be more open to others," says Miloud El Mehadbi. "Being introverted means death."

Mehadbi is foreign affairs director for the World Center for the Studies and Researches of the Green Book. There, scholars and students analyze Gadhafi's 1970s treatise on politics, economy and society, which the center publishes in 53 languages.

Mehadbi defends the Green Book by saying its theory was poorly implemented and any mistakes are now being corrected.

"I believe that the Green Book, through studying its concepts, can be developed," he says. "In the final analysis, interpretations and practices are the imagination of human beings."

	JOHN MOORE / AP Internet cafes have proliferated and Libyans freely use them. Here Firaz Abdel Kareem, 12, gets some help at a Tripoli Internet cafe while online chatting in English with a friend.

Other Libyans see the changes in their country's politics as an acknowledgment that in a world dominated by rich nations, casting Libya as the anti-Western leader of African and Arab countries won't revive a struggling economy. They say 17 years of U.S. sanctions have driven that point home.

"You find yourself ostracized. That's what they found," says Khalifa, the neurosurgeon. "The sanctions are part of that, and they worked.

"There is a carrot and a stick, and you have to make a choice."

Libyans biting their tongues?

For Gadhafi's critics, the new Libya looks much like the old.

It is impossible to know how many Libyans oppose the rule of Gadhafi — universally known as "The Leader." There is no organized dissident movement and under an omnipresent security apparatus, most Libyans keep their mouths shut.

"I can't give you an interview," an old man protests when approached on the street. "Maybe I'll say something about politics."

Most Libyans openly adore The Leader, although given the level of surveillance by Libya's security services it is unclear how spontaneous their praises are.

"He is an example of freedom, dignity and honesty," says Khaled al-Asma, 28, a goldsmith. "When I see his picture I feel loving and kindness."

But others often give the impression that they have more to say but are biting their tongues in the presence of government minders who accompany foreign journalists on most reporting trips.

One man, deep into a discussion about golf, suddenly interrupts himself as the minder wanders off, lowering his voice and speaking hurriedly.

"The Leader should follow the American leader — Bush — and let people be happy," he says. "We have many problems. Talking, that is one problem."

And then, picking up seamlessly where he left off, he goes on about Tiger Woods' swing.

Some Libyans are bolder. Two dissidents in a city square initiate a chat that soon turns to politics, then lead a reporter and photographer through a maze of streets and duck into a doorway to continue the talk in private.

The men disagree about the extent of Libya's transformation. One says that to win favor with the West, Gadhafi will have to stop repressing dissidents. The other calls his friend naive, saying the United States cares little about people like them.

"The changes will be in international politics. Internal politics, I don't think so," he says.

They agree that there is little chance for change from within — that the Libyan people are too terrified to take on Gadhafi.

"Nobody wishes this leader to stay, but they're afraid," says a dissident named Fouad. "They hang people publicly. They kill thousands."

He says he himself has spent 17 years in political prisons.

Even foreigners in Libya watch what they say.

A British couple is taking an afternoon walk, pushing their baby in a stroller, in one of the comfortable compounds built for expatriates. A reporter approaches to ask them what life is like in Libya.

"It's quite a nice place to live," the man says cheerfully.

Asked what he does for a living, he replies: "I'd rather not say."

His wife says quietly: "That's what it's like in Libya."

U.S. ties gladden many

In recognition of Gadhafi's moves on terrorism and weapons of mass destruction, the White House on Thursday lifted a 23-year-old ban on Americans traveling to Libya and said U.S. companies that had been in Libya before the sanctions can start negotiating their return, pending the end of the trade ban.

Most Libyans say the new relationship is cause for rejoicing.

"People aren't excited. They're ecstatic!" says Debbie McCully, a Tulsa, Okla., woman who has lived in Libya since the 1970s.

While the sanctions have cost Libya tens of billions of dollars, most Libyans say just as bitter was the travel ban, which prevented Americans from visiting Libya and made it difficult for Libyans to visit the United States.

"Most of my generation did its undergraduate or graduate work in the States. It's amazing how people forget how things were," says Tarek Hassan-Beck, a top oil official who studied in Illinois and New Mexico in the 1970s.

"This political misunderstanding lasted too long, and we're happy these things are taking place."

The joy comes in part from a people who feel the sanctions and diplomatic barriers are holding them back from their brave new lives, and are exuberant about the prospect of being allowed to regain their place among the nations.

"We are not as isolated as before. We are a part of international society. We are very happy about these things," says Salah Ibrahim, an economist who heads Tripoli's Academy of Post-Graduate Studies.

"Now we have a new country and new possibilities to improve ourselves."

Tomorrow in The Times

Americans on sidelines while fortunes are made in Libya.

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