Self-government is harder than it looks

Libyans in Benghazi, under rebel control, celebrated on a surrendered tank.

Kareem Fahim has an article in The New York Times about the latest out of Libya:

The rebels here said they caught a spy in the court building, the nerve center of the uprising, recording insurgent plans on a cellphone camera. The response was swift. Prosecutors interrogated the man, and the rebels said they planned to detain him, for now.
“We want to know if he’s alone,” said Fathi Terbil, the lawyer whose detention set off Libya’s rebellion and who is now one if its leaders.
In the city where the Libyan uprising began, lawyers, prosecutors, judges, and average citizens who oppose the rule of Colonel Muammar el-Qaddafi are adjusting to unfamiliar roles: they are keepers both of an evolving rebellion, as well as law and order, in Libya’s second largest city. And they fret that their gains will be reversed, by people and groups sympathetic to Colonel Qaddafi, who still maintain a presence.
Since Sunday, when government forces withdrew and Benghazi became the first major city to fall under rebel control, residents and rebels here have been left to hammer out a new way of life and governance. On Thursday, the fruits of that effort were beginning to take a rough shape. A judge, still wearing his robes, wandered through traffic, ordering drivers to put on their seat belts. At another intersection, three young men helped an elderly police officer direct a traffic jam. Dozens of banks opened for business, and, by late afternoon, stores shuttered for days had started to open as well.
In Benghazi’s new order, the court building overlooking the Mediterranean has become both a seat of rebel power and the town hall. A battery of newly formed committees meet there to discuss security, negotiate with the army, and sort out how to get people back to work. “We needed something temporary, to manage the day-to-day life,” said Imam Bugaighis, an orthodontist who has become a spokeswoman for the caretaker administration. She said her sister, a lawyer, is also an organizer of the effort, whose leadership remains very loose. Lawyers and judges were at the vanguard of the uprising. “They are in charge,” Dr. Bugaighis said. Then she added, “Nobody is in charge.”
After Libya’s revolt began here on 15 February, there was intense fighting for several days. The local hospital is still coping with the influx of those who survived. At the height of the uprising, about a hundred people a day were admitted with bullet wounds and other injuries, according to the chief surgeon, who gave his name only as Dr. Abdullah because the government’s agents were still lurking. “We’ve been under threats for forty years,” he said. Badly wounded men lay in the hospital’s intensive care unit, and doctors confided privately that they did not expect them to live. They included a thirty-year-old man whose chest was filled with bullet fragments. “He’s deeply comatose,” Dr. Abdullah said. Dr. Abdullah said that 140 people died during the unrest here, while local rebel leaders said the number could be as high as 300. The doctors said many patients arrived with bullet wounds to the chest and the head. Many of them are paralyzed. In the morgue, nine green bags contained charred remains. Dr. Abdullah said that they had been recovered from the local military base, and that he was told they were soldiers who were executed and then burned by their commanders after they refused to fire on civilians. But he could not be sure. “It was chaos,” he said.
The chaos had started with the detention of Mr. Terbil, a lawyer who represents families of those killed in a massacre of more than a thousand inmates in abu-Slim prison in Tripoli in 1996. The families planned to be part of a protest on 17 February, and Mr. Terbil said that the authorities detained him on 15 February, hoping to head off the demonstrations. During an interview in a second-floor office in the court building, Mr. Terbil said his interrogation stretched out over two days, as his supporters protested outside the security building where he was detained. Using carrots and sticks, the authorities told him to find a way to end the demonstrations. “I told them, it’s already on Facebook and Twitter,” he said he told the officer interrogating him. “We can’t stop it. We can make it peaceful.” The interrogator’s response, Mr. Terbil said, was: “We cannot allow protests like that to take place. Blood will be shed.”