Lost in Libya

Tripoli

‘We have some civilian martyrs for you,’ said the Libyan government minder, with the triumphant look of a Soviet housewife who has just found a bottle of Scotch in the state-controlled supermarket. He pulled aside a blanket to reveal a charred, twisted corpse, blackened arms fixed stiffly upwards, skin seared away to reveal the tendons.

It was the kind of thing that stays in the memory — but mainly because that body, and another one next to it, were the first two that any western reporter in Tripoli had seen in weeks. Even they, it turned out, were journalists for Libyan state television — proud purveyor of news headlines such as ‘Upper Volta ambassador says Gaddafi is source of all competent authority’ — who just happened to have been filming on top of the colonel’s leadership bunker at 2.50 a.m. Three more corpses were brought out last Tuesday. And that, so far, has been it. 

For the Tripoli press corps, a typical Crusader airstrike has three phases. First, nearly always in the middle of the night, comes the bang itself, or multiples thereof — often conveniently close to our hotel, allowing us to report that Nato has launched its ‘heaviest attacks yet’ on the Libyan capital.

Then there is the government-organised bus ride to what is generally an empty building with smoke billowing from it (more sensitive targets tend to be omitted from the tour itinerary). Finally, the evening may conclude with a visit to a hospital, at which we will be told that there have been dozens, even hundreds, of civilian casualties, but will actually be shown perhaps six young men with superficial wounds. The others, it will be explained, are being treated elsewhere, or have already recovered — praise be to Allah!

This week, the regime claimed that Nato has killed 718 civilians since the bombing began.