Years ago, Gaddafi knew how dictatorships end

Before he was killed last week, Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi was discovered hiding in a drainage pipe as he was trying to flee. More than a decade ago, the feared dictator wrote “Run Away to Hell," a short story about fleeing "a tyrannical mob," a trenchant view into a paranoid dictator's mind at the height of his power. An excerpt: How cruel humans can be when they become a tyrannical mob, a torrent that has no mercy on those who stand in its way, that does not listen for cries of help. The tyranny of a single man is the most tolerable of tyrannies; after all, he is just one man and can be removed from power in a single blow. The tyranny of the mob is far worse, for who can stand in the face of the torrent’s overwhelming power?

Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi arrives to give television interviews at a hotel in Tripoli in this file photo taken March 8, 2011. Reuters-Ahmed Jadallah

I love the freedom of the masses; I adore those who have smashed their shackles after years of suffering. But I also feel apprehensive about them. When happy and content, the masses are full of compassion, and they put their chosen on a pedestal: Hannibal, Pericles, Savoranola, Danton, Robespierre, Mussolini, Nixon. But how cruel the masses become when they are enraged: they hemlocked Hannibal, burned Savonarola at the stake, guillotined Danton, broke Robespierre’s jaw, dragged Mussolini’s corpse through the streets, and spat in Nixon’s face when he left the White House. This is the flame that scorches my back. I stand before a loving yet ruthless society, before people know all too well what they want from the individual but don’t care what the individual wants from them, before the masses that love without even showing that love by, say offering a seat in a movie theater or a table in a café. What can I do in an insane, modern city whose inhabitants gnaw at me whenever they see me: “Build a new house for us, pave a path to the sea, plant a garden, catch a whale, unite us in wedlock, kill a dog for us, buy us a cat!" I am a poor, wandering Bedouin who doesn’t even have a birth certificate. I eat without washing my hands and kick whatever happens to be in my way, even if it might smash the window of a store or hit an old woman. I’ve never tasted alcohol, soda water, or Pepsi. I drink rainwater from my cupped hands, and use the hem of my cloak to screen the tadpoles from the well water. I don’t know what money looks like, yet those who bump into me always ask me for something or other. I have nothing to give. All I have was stolen from the hands of thieves, the mouths of mice, the fangs of dogs, and I bestowed it upon the city dwellers. But the people are impatient and insist that they get it all instantly. Mine is a unique case. I’m the only one who has nothing, yet I’m harassed and bugged almost on an hourly basis. That’s why I ran away to the desert, alone, ran away from you and your breathing down my neck – to save myself. Your breaths annoyed me, invaded my privacy, violated my being. Your breaths followed me like rabid dogs, salivating along modern, mad city streets. So leave me to my worries. Stop chasing me. Stop pointing me out to your children so they can run after me and taunt me wherever I go. Why do you take away my peace of mind? Why do you deny my peace of mind? Why do you deny me my freedom to roam your streets? I am as human as you are. An excerpt from “Run Away to Hell," a short story by Colonel Muammar Gaddafi in The Village, the City, the Suicide of the Astronaut, and Other Stories, a collection of his writings, published by the General Egyptian Book Organization in Cairo, and translated from Arabic by Anton Shammas. The excerpt was also published in Harper’s Magazine in its August 1996 issue. - HS, GMA News