[Marxism] Unarmed people power drums Libya's jihadists out of Benghazi

Louis Proyect lnp3 at panix.com
Sun Sep 23 12:32:16 MDT 2012


http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/sep/22/unarmed-people-power-libya

Unarmed people power drums Libya's jihadists out of Benghazi

     Chris Stephen	
     The Observer, Saturday 22 September 2012 11.45 EDT	

As fires blazed and protesters danced in the ruined compound of a 
vanquished jihadist militia, I watched as the citizens of the Libyan 
city of Benghazi staged a dramatic display of raw people power.Numbed by 
the murder of an American ambassador in their city, furious with 
jihadist militias lording it over them and frustrated by a government 
too chaotic and intimidated to react, ordinary Benghazians took matters 
into their own hands.

Elsewhere in the world jihadists staged fiery attacks on foreign 
targets. In Libya they were sent running by people power. A rally called 
to Rescue Benghazi on Friday night became the launch pad for a 
spontaneous retaking of the streets, and more – a retaking of the soul 
that saw this city become the cradle of last year's Arab spring revolution.

Ansar al-Sharia militia, blamed by many for the killing of ambassador 
Chris Stevens and three of his diplomats had last week deployed 
anti-aircraft guns around their Benghazi compound, fearing attack from 
drones and US warships. But the attack, when it came, was from a very 
different direction. Civilian. Unarmed. And with nothing more than the 
desperation of a population staring anarchy in the face.

For the people of Benghazi, the killing of Stevens was the final outrage 
in a campaign of extremist violence that had seen other consulates 
firebombed, the convoy of Britain's ambassador rocketed, commonwealth 
war graves vandalised and 14 officials assassinated. As foreign missions 
fled and businessmen cleared out, Benghazi found itself cast as Libya's 
Dodge City. And in the absence of a sheriff to impose order, its people 
staged their own spontaneous cleansing.

The rally on Friday was peaceful: crowds of men, women and children 
marched on central Benghazi, with balloons, flags and placards, many 
calling for justice for the killers of Stevens. "We are Islam, we are 
not extremists!" they chanted.

Ever since the 11 September attack on the US compound that left Stevens 
and three fellow diplomats dead, Benghazians have been incredulous at 
the inability of government to act. No serious investigation has been 
launched to catch his killers, the government cowed by the power of 
jihadist militias.

But support for the protest was everywhere. The defence minister refused 
to give his backing, but air force pilots made their feelings known: an 
attack helicopter circled Friday's protest to protect it and a pilot 
made low thundering passes over the crowd to remind them of the 
revolutionary slogan: "The army is with the people."

When night fell, the dam broke. The women and children of the rally were 
escorted home and the crowd surged towards militia bases. First to go 
was the Abu Salem Shahouda militia base, behind the seafront Tibesti 
hotel, and blamed by locals for thuggery and intimidation. A crowd of 
hundreds of young men, some teenagers, smashed through the gates and 
into the compound.

I was propelled in with them, as the frightened militiamen were 
manhandled out of the gates. Minutes later three jeeps loaded with 
red-capped military police screeched into the compound, weapons ready, 
unsure what they would find. The protesters embraced them. "It's like in 
the revolution," said colonel Ben Eisa, taking command of the abandoned 
Abu Salem Shahouda base. "We are taking orders from the people." It was 
as easy as that. Months of militia violence ended by a show of unarmed 
force.

Then came Ansar al-Sharia: a 300-strong force blamed by Libya's head of 
state Muhammad Magariaf for involvement in Stevens's death. As the 
demonstrators approached, the militiamen flooded out of their compound 
and loosed volleys of machine gun fire into the air. The crowd, bursting 
with the frustration of months of humiliation, simply kept coming. The 
militia, who had vowed to fight American air power, fled before people 
power.

Compound buildings were torched, cars set ablaze and looting of 
everything not nailed down began as, belatedly, red-capped military 
police arrived. "We are in control of this place," said colonel Saleh 
Yemeni, sporting a red beret and the silver wings of the parachute 
regiment, as a flaming car burned behind him. "We are with the people."

A well-built man, Ehad El Farsi, stopped me to ask if I was American and 
to apologise on behalf of Benghazi for the killing of Stevens. Told I 
was English, he explained he was a politics professor at Benghazi 
university and wanted to talk to me some time about the merits of singer 
Chris Rea. "What you have here is the people taking action," he said. 
"All the people."

TV pictures may give the impression of mob rule. Being there felt it 
felt more like a cup final crowd toasting victory. Then the cry went up 
to march on Hwari, the sprawling base of another militia, Raffala 
al-Sahati, to which Ansar al-Sharia men were believed to have fled. El 
Farsi found his car, a BMW, and roared off south.

Protesters crammed into cars, hooting horns and waving Libyan tricolours 
as an impromptu convoy surged south. But this time the response was 
different. The first protesters who marched on the gates were met by 
machine gun fire, triggering pandemonium. Cars bringing more protesters 
ran into the traffic jam of abandoned vehicles and civilian cars trying 
to ferry the wounded to hospital. Pickup trucks with anti-aircraft guns 
manned by military police sat, their crews unsure if they should return 
fire.

Amid a cacophony of car horns, shouts and the rattle of machine gun 
fire, red tracer slashed the night sky and protesters dashed for cover. 
"The were shooting at the people – the crowd were all running away," 
said Muhammad el-Gadari, an aviation student who had gone there to 
search for his younger cousin.

I had abandonded my vehicle to try to get to the battle by foot through 
the chaos of traffic and angry protesters, when a huge, bearded man in a 
white robe grabbed me, yelling in my ear and violently pushing me 
backwards. He spoke no English, and I was separated from my translator. 
When he caught up with us, the man in the robe explained he was not 
attacking me but defending me: "You must go away, it is not safe," he 
said. "We have to protect our foreigners."

As protester numbers grew and fire was returned, the base garrison fled, 
abandoning vehicles, guns and huge quantities of ammunition which the 
crowd looted. City hospitals were meanwhile forced to deal with carnage 
not seen since last year's war: surgeons were summoned from their beds, 
blood donors requested. By dawn the toll stood at 11 dead and 19 injured.

The wounded included Abu Baker Feraz, who had his leg smashed by a 
panicking militiaman escaping in a jeep. "It was an Ansar al-Sharia guy. 
I know his face. I have seven brothers – we want to find this man." As 
he was wheeled away to be operated on at Benghazi medical centre, his 
hand snaked out from the blue shawl that covered him. "I want to say 
something," he said. "Ansar al-Sharia, they have somebody from 
Afghanistan, somebody from Tunisia, somebody from Libya. Islam is not in 
Ansar al-Sharia."

It is a refrain you hear across Benghazi: Libya is a conservative Muslim 
country, and perhaps for this reason jihadists are distrusted for 
wanting to tell Libyans how to interpret their faith. Cynics say 
jihadists were wrongfooted by the revolution, won by the ordinary people 
and Nato, then by July elections that were won by a pro-business 
coalition, and are staking all on taking power – and Libya's oil wealth 
– by force.

The desperate hope here is that the outside world that gave Libya such 
support in its revolution does not turn away. "How can you have business 
if you can't guarantee security?" said Hana el-Galal, a prominent civil 
rights activist in the city. "Everybody now is rallying against 
organised extremism."

For now, the city is calm. Whether it stays that way is anyone's guess: 
the political vacuum at the heart of Libya's government remains, and the 
Islamists have powerful political allies.

Some in Benghazi worry that the streets are now protected by the same 
police and army commanders who made their careers in Muammar Gaddafi's 
security forces. Ansar al-Sharia is still around, somewhere, but its 
leaders are perhaps mindful that, as was shown last year against the 
Gaddafi regime, Libyan people power should not be underestimated.




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