Solomon2
BANNED
- Joined
- Dec 12, 2008
- Messages
- 19,475
- Reaction score
- -37
- Country
- Location
28/10/2011
By Amir Taheri
I know that by saying this I could be accused of sentimentalism or worse. However, watching the video of Muammar Gaddafi’s final moments, I was struck by a sense of unease. I own no television and seldom watch the box. So, I might have escaped the disturbing footage. Unfortunately, I had to see it because the BBC wanted to interview me about the colonel’s end.
But, why the unease?
Never a fan of the colonel, I was among the first to discover the fraudulent nature of the persona he projected. (My first article criticising him appeared in October 1970.) Whenever I interviewed him, the encounter was anything but friendly. I was also among the first to support the Libyan uprising.
Nevertheless, seeing Gaddafi treated like a wounded dog, and shot, even though with a golden gun, made me uncomfortable.
As those images darkened my mood, other images, this time photos in newspapers and magazines, from a more distant past came to haunt me.
Some showed corpses of lofty leaders who met sordid ends. Others were mug shots of the mighty crushed by the wheel of fortune.
Since all the images were those of Muslim rulers, it seemed as if Gaddafi’s fate, far from exceptional, followed a pattern established by decades of political violence.
There was the portrait of Nuqrachi Pasha, Egypt’s Prime Minister, murdered by the Muslim Brotherhood, along that of Imam Yahya of Yemen, another victim of the “brothers.”
On one page of the memory album were mug shots of Hosni al-Za’im, Syria’s first military dictator followed by that of Sami Hannawi, the man who had him murdered before being murdered in his turn.
On another page, Abdullah bin Hussein, the founding emir of Transjordan, murdered in a mosque.
The albums and there are the mutilated corpses of Iraq’s young King Faisal and his uncle Abdul-Ilah along that of Prime Minister Nuri Said. And, what about the shattered corpse of Abdul Karim Qassem, the man who ordered the massacre? Next, we have the charred body of Abdul-Salam Arif al-Jumaili, the man responsible for Qassem’s murder.
The next images belong to Ibrahim al-Hamdi and Ahmad Al-Ghishmi two Yemeni presidents murdered in succession.
And, who could forget images of Anwar Sadat, the man who gave Egypt its only half-victory in 2000 years, or that of Algerian President Muhammad Boudiaf, gunned down like a prey in hunting season?
Back to Iraq, possibly the Arab country most stricken by violence, there is the image of Saddam Hussein, hung and left to dry.
The gallery of horror pictures is not confined to Arab lands.
Here is Turkey’s Prime Minister Adnan Menderes, dangling from the gallows. On the next page, is the bullet-ridden corpse of Amir Abbas Hoveyda, Iran’s longest serving Prime Minister. Then we have the charred corpses of Muhammad-Ali Rajai, the second President of the Islamic Republic, and his Prime Minister Muhammad-Javad Bahonar.
Next is the body of Hafiz-Allah Amin, Afghanistan’s Communist president, turned into a sieve with gunshots. At the crescendo of horror we have the corpse, emasculated and cut into pieces, of Muhammad Najib-Allah, the last Communist President of Afghanistan.
In this macabre picture gallery we also find the hanged body of Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, Pakistan’s Prime Minister followed by that of the man who ordered the hanging General Muhammad Zia ul-Haq, who met his death when his aircraft exploded in mid-air.
The photographic morgue does not tell the whole story of politics in the Muslim world. Another chapter is filled with the narrative of exile: in the so-called Muslim world you are in power one day and in exile the next.
We see the Shah of Iran, driven out of home, knocking on every door for admission, and dying in Cairo, a broken man. More fortunate exiles could be found in Parisian cafes or Wimbledon villas, plotting a problematic return home.
Obviously, our pictorial morgue is full of both good and bad men, and , in some cases, monsters. Some of the victims deserved their fate, others did not. In every case, the end was an arbitrary one, defying reason, logic and a law, elements without which there is no civilisation.
The question is: couldn’t we find other mechanisms for change?
Traditionally, the most frequently used methods were the poison administered by the harem favourite or the dagger driven deep by the assassin. Ottoman Sultans and Safavid Shahs had a habit of blinding their brothers to protect themselves, and seldom succeeded.
Gaddafi recognised no mechanism for change and allowed none to be shaped. When his choice was narrowed down to death or exile, he mocked the first and believed the second would remain available to the 11th hour. He was wrong on both counts.
Senegal’s President Abdullahi Wade and South African President Jacob Zuma tried to promote a transition under which the colonel would step aside and allow the formation of a transitional government including at least one of his sons. The self-styled “Supreme Guide” would have none of that.
Even a quick glance at the map of the so-called Muslim World shows that the most stable countries are the ones with established mechanisms for change. It is impossible to envisage a human society where the desire for change is absent at all times. Wise leaders try to turn change into their ally, lest it become their foe and, in the final analysis, their executioner.
Some like Syria’s Bashar al-Assad , Yemen’s Ali Abdullah Salih , Sudan’s Omar al-Bashir and Iran’s Ali Khamenehi refuse to understand that simple fact of political life.
Their refusal is worse than a crime; it is a mistake. link
Amir Taheri was born in Ahvaz, southwest Iran, and educated in Tehran, London and Paris. He was Executive Editor-in-Chief of the daily Kayhan in Iran (1972-79). In 1980-84, he was Middle East Editor for the Sunday Times. In 1984-92, he served as member of the Executive Board of the International Press Institute (IPI). Between 1980 and 2004, he was a contributor to the International Herald Tribune. He has written for the Wall Street Journal, the New York Post, the New York Times, the London Times, the French magazine Politique Internationale, and the German weekly Focus. Between 1989 and 2005, he was editorial writer for the German daily Die Welt. Taheri has published 11 books, some of which have been translated into 20 languages. He has been a columnist for Asharq Alawsat since 1987. Taheri's latest book "The Persian Night" is published by Encounter Books in London and New York.