Why Libya's revolution didn't work -- and what might - Zahra' Langhi
[Music] [Applause] I have never ever forgotten the words of my grandmother who died in her exile: “Son, resist Gaddafi, fight him, but don't you ever turn into a Gaddafi.”
Like a revolutionary, almost two years have passed since the Libyan Revolution broke out, inspired by the waves of mass mobilization in both the Tunisian and the Egyptian Revolution. I joined forces with many other Libyans, inside and outside Libya, to call for a day of engagement and to initiate a revolution against the tyrannical regime of Gaddafi.
And there it was: a great revolution. Young Libyan women and men were at the forefront, calling for the fall of the regime, raising slogans of freedom, dignity, and social justice. They have shown exemplary bravery in confronting the brutal dictatorship of Gaddafi. They have shown a great sense of solidarity from the Far East to the Far West to the South.
Eventually, after a period of six months of brutal war and a toll of almost 50,000 dead, we managed to liberate our country and to topple the tyrant. However, Gaddafi left behind a heavy burden: a legacy of tyranny, corruption, and seeds of division for four decades. Gaddafi's tyrannical regime destroyed the infrastructure, as well as the culture and the moral fabric of Libyan society.
Aware of the devastation and the challenges, I was keen, among many other women, to rebuild the Libyan civil society, calling for an inclusive and just transition to democracy and national reconciliation. Almost 200 organizations were established in Benghazi during and immediately after the fall of Gaddafi; almost 300 in Tripoli. After a period of 33 years in exile, I went back to Libya, and with unique enthusiasm, I started organizing workshops on capacity building and on human development and leadership skills with an amazing group of women.
I co-founded the Libyan Women's Platform for Peace, a movement of women leaders from different walks of life to lobby for the socio-political empowerment of women and to lobby for our right to equal participation in building democracy and peace. It made for a very difficult environment in the pre-elections, an environment which was increasingly polarized, shaped by the selfish politics of dominance and exclusion.
I led an initiative by the Libyan Women's Platform for Peace to lobby for a more inclusive electoral law, a law that would give every citizen, no matter what your background, the right to vote and run. Most importantly, it would stipulate for political parties the alternation of male and female candidates, vertically and horizontally, in their lists, creating the zipper list. Eventually, our initiative was adopted, and successfully, women won 17.55% of the National Congress in the first elections ever in 52 years.
Wow! However, bit by bit, the euphoria of the elections and of the revolution as a whole was fading out. For every day we were waking up to the news of violence. One day we woke up to the news of the desecration of ancient mosques and Sufi tombs. On another day, we woke up to the news of the murder of the American ambassador and the attack on the consulate. On another day, we woke up to the news of the assassination of army officers.
Every day, every day, we woke up with the rule of the militias and their continuous violations of human rights of prisoners and their disrespect of the rule of law. Our society, shaped by a revolutionary mindset, became more polarized and has drifted away from the ideals and the principles of freedom, dignity, and social justice that we first held. Intolerance, exclusion, and revenge became the icons of the post-revolution.
I am here today not at all to inspire you with our success story of the zipper list in the elections. I'm rather here today to confess that we, as a nation, took the wrong choice and made the wrong decision. We did not prioritize the right for elections; it did not bring peace, stability, and security in Libya.
Did the zipper list and the alternation between female and male candidates bring peace and national reconciliation? No, it didn't. What is it then? Why does our society continue to be polarized and dominated by selfish politics of dominance and exclusion by both men and women? Maybe what's missing are not just the women, but the feminine values of compassion, mercy, and inclusion.
Our society needs national dialogue and consensus building more than it needed the elections, which only reinforce polarization and divisiveness. Our society needs the qualitative representation of the feminine more than it needs the numerical, quantitative representation of the feminine. We need to stop acting as agents of rage and calling for days of rage. We need to start acting as agents of compassion and mercy.
We need to develop a feminine discourse that not only honors but also implements mercy instead of revenge, collaboration instead of competition, and inclusion instead of exclusion. These are the ideals that a war-torn Libya needs desperately in order to achieve peace.
For peace has an alchemy, and this alchemy is about the intertwining, the alternation between the feminine and masculine perspective. That's the real zipper, and we need to establish that existentially before we do so sociopolitically.
According to a Quranic verse, “Salam” (peace) is the word of the All-Merciful God, “Rahim.” In turn, the word “Rahim,” which is known in all Abrahamic traditions, has the same root in Arabic as the word “womb,” symbolizing the maternal feminine encompassing all humanity, from which the male and the female, from which all tribes, all peoples have emanated from.
And so, just as the womb entirely envelops the embryo that grows within it, the Divine Matrix of compassion nourishes the entire existence. Thus we are told that “My Mercy encompasses all things.” Thus we are told that “My Mercy takes precedence over My anger.”
May we all be granted a grace of mercy. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much. Thank you, thank you so much. Thank you.