Libyan authorities left press powerless

A burst of gunfire and squealing tyres kicked off what was scheduled to be a day of anti-government protests in Tripoli. The foreign journalists in town, all watched by minders while staying at one of two hotels in the city, struggled to find out what was happening. "Al Qaida is on the loose," claimed a press division official of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

The terrorists, he said, want to turn the country into Iraq. But there was no reason to panic. The Libyan government would not allow any harm to befall the journalists — by simply barring them from venturing outside.

Those who tried to leave the hotel and cover the protests were physically prevented from doing so. Instead, they were told they would be flown for the day to an oasis town hundreds of kilometres away from the capital.

After a frantic call by a journalist to Saif Islam Gaddafi, the son of longtime Libyan strongman Muammar Gaddafi, the house arrest was lifted. And despite the purported Al Qaida threat, multiple pro-government rallies had broken out across the city that the reporters were allowed to cover.

Foreign correspondents in authoritarian states have long been used to handling tough stories under tight restrictions. But working in Libya has an almost surreal quality. Tripoli these days is a place where government agents in leather trench coats and sunglasses hover at hotel entrances. Where "spontaneous" pro-government rallies break out just as busloads of journalists escorted by the government arrive in a town. Where top officials, including Colonel Gaddafi, personally urge journalists to take taxis and visit neighbourhoods in the capital — while their minions detain them from doing so. At least until they suddenly disappear for lunch.

Libyan authorities invited foreign journalists to Libya as a gambit to show the world that the pan-Arab Al Jazeera and Al Arabiya networks had exaggerated the extent of the government's violence against its opponents, underestimated popular support for Gaddafi and overblown the reports of chaos in outlying regions in the wake of anti-government protests and armed conflict. But the invitation, as it turns out, has had significant strings attached.

Simply put, the 150 or so journalists in town are not free to report as they desire. They are told by minders they must be accompanied at all times. The reason drastic precautions are necessary, government officials say, is to protect the journalists from terrorists, criminals and overzealous media critics.

"I know there are local people here that are ready to cause problems for you because they are not happy with the coverage," said Khalid Khaeim, a foreign ministry official. Yet journalists who have attempted to sneak away from minders and verify the facts have at times been detained by Libyan security forces, rather than by opposition activists and dissidents they have managed to locate and discretely interview.

Employees of eight news organisations, including the Los Angeles Times, BBC and Agence France-Presse, were detained on the outskirts of Zawiya recently and held for nearly seven hours by security forces. They were served tea and juice boxes but there was a menacing air to the experience. At one point, a gunman threatened to blindfold the journalists and haul them to an undisclosed location to be questioned by an official. A three-member BBC team that set out for Zawiya was arrested and held overnight by security forces. Adding to the confusion, some government minders are less stringent than others, urging reporters to take taxis to run simple errands. Recently, a group of journalists was escorted to a rally by a minder, who promptly ditched them and left them on their own.

"It is intrusive but it also has an arbitrary, inconsistent quality which makes things particularly difficult," said a correspondent for a British newspaper, who asked that his name and news organisation not be published. Adding to the strange atmosphere is the apparent willingness of Libyans in positions of power to make assertions of fact that just don't seem to jibe with the facts on the ground. For days, Libyan officials announced that Zawiya had been conquered by government forces, an assertion baldly contradicted by opposition supporters reached in the city and even by Libyan troops surrounding the coastal enclave and girding for one of many armoured assaults that have so far failed to dislodge the city centre from rebel control.

Journalists who have worked in Libya in the past say it has always been a tough beat, with government agents shadowing journalists in comically obvious ways. These days, the consequences of mistakes by journalists are particularly worrisome.

"To do any independent journalism at all and to protect your sources, you have to go to extraordinary lengths," said Peter Beaumont, a reporter for The Guardian. "People won't talk to you on the streets or in their homes. They'll tell you to meet them after dark or at a half-finished building or whisper to you at a pro-Gaddafi rally."

At the same time, it is probably easier to break free of the overworked handlers — civil servants who are generally amicable and attempt to be helpful. So far no journalist here has been booted out of the country for violating any of the unspecified rules that govern their actions.

"To be a journalist in Libya has never been easy," said one Italian correspondent who has reported in Libya many times in the past. "But they're not used to dealing with so many of us, which makes it a littler easier."