The anniversary of Libya’s February 17, 2011 revolution remains a bittersweet occasion. The fall of the dictatorship is rejoiced, but there is almost nothing left of this joy amid grief over the calamities that followed: a series of grave crises, failure to rebuild the state, erosion of state authority, and squandered wealth. On this anniversary, one can only be torn. Was it a revolution, or a betrayal and a NATO conspiracy?
The February anniversary is also associated with the controversial journalist Bernard-Henri Lévy. He played a major role in the push for international intervention. Having instrumentalised the “February revolutionaries” a few months earlier, he did not even acknowledge them as “revolutionaries” in his book War Without Love. Instead, he mocked and insulted yesterday’s allies, disowning them and their actions.
The February anniversary—after having been stained by political Islam with blood, belligerence, displacement, destruction and devastation, foreign agendas, and the transfer of wealth abroad—is now marked at a time when the country has two governments, one in the east and another in the west.
The “joy” of February has become mixed with frustration and disappointment amid a crippling financial crisis, chaos, militia rule, state failure, and deep social fragmentation. Libyans want a unified government tasked with national reconciliation—one that turns the page on the injustices and dictatorship of the past, ensuring reparations, accountability, and reconciliation—not governments that plunder the people after having emptied the state’s coffers.
The absence of clear objectives facilitated the dominance of imported projects and ideologies. Foremost among them was political Islam, which overwhelmed the February revolution and ignored people’s suffering and aspirations. Under the banner of the “caliphate,” and under foreign leadership, Islamists sought to fuel chaos. In their grand project, Libya became little more than a treasury for the Muslim Brotherhood and the first target of its plan to govern the region. Their ideology is alien to Libya and its people, and it has been rejected by the majority of the population.
Among the reasons for the Libyan public’s reluctance to celebrate the February anniversary are disappointment, perpetual crisis, and a total lack of hope for positive change. Libyans have found themselves facing several new tyrants rather than the single tyrant they had known and lived under for more than forty years. The peaceful transfer of power—the most basic pillar of democratic governance—has not taken hold.
The officials elected after the February revolution continue to rule more than ten years later. Only the titles and political entities (which were not put to a vote) have changed. Power is shared exclusively among those who prevailed in the war. The High Council of State, an unelected body, is merely an extension and rebranding of the General National Congress elected in 2012. It now rules under a new name that has no precedent in the so-called “democratic” era. Likewise, the parliament elected in 2014 continues to extend its mandate to this day, amid widespread democratic illiteracy and the abandonment of democratic transitions.
The joy associated with the February anniversary across Libya may become increasingly muted, especially in light of the collapse and near absence of health, education, and public services. How can Libyan citizens be asked to celebrate this anniversary when they cannot find a hospital built during the “February era” to treat them—not to mention queues for bread, gas, petrol, and cash liquidity? Hardship shapes the lives of all Libyans, whether in the east, west, or south. The government has failed to deliver basic services—healthcare, education, public utilities, decent housing, and infrastructure that respects human dignity—underscoring the calamity of this anniversary as it manifests itself across Libya, even among rival political factions.
You would find no signs of joy in Libya on this anniversary of the February revolution, and the calamity of the anniversary is not the only source of sorrow. Libya is in need of sincere men, not opportunists, to mend its wounds and rebuild its institutions. The revival of the military, which has risen from the ashes, might offer a glimmer of hope for the revival of other institutions, allowing an exit from this dark tunnel and the return of hope for change.
