Roberts had been tipped off that the only way to get Qaddafi’s attention was through his son, Seif al-Islam, so he worked through diplomatic channels to meet with him. Finally at 7 a.m. on June 2, Roberts’s home phone rang. It was Mohammed Ahmed, al-Islam’s chief of staff, who abruptly said, “He would like to meet you.” A week later, Roberts landed in Tripoli. His meeting with al-Islam lasted only 45 minutes. “Right at the start, he told me that he knew that the medics were innocent and that there was no conspiracy,” Roberts says. Al-Islam also implied that Qaddafi himself knew this. “Then we talked about what could be done if Libya did the responsible thing.” Roberts had a long list, from scientific and technological collaborations to investment in health care. “He was very sympathetic to these ideas,” says Roberts, “and he gave me the impression that he had the honest ambition to make Libya a shining star among African countries, leading the way in science and education.”
Al-Islam agreed that a necessary starting point for collaboration would be “a workshop between Libyan and international experts to come to a consensus, free of politics, on what exactly happened in Benghazi,” Roberts says. He also proposed a plan for the infected children. “Libya should help focus the media on these kids and follow them. Keeping them in the public eye will ensure that they get the best treatment, and it could also show that AIDS is not a killer anymore,” he says. “With proper care, they can live a full life. They deserve nothing less.” He flew home the next day.
Next came a few weeks of nail-biting suspense. The final word in Libyan law lies with a political (not a legal) body called the Supreme Judicial Council. On July 17, after the families of the infected children received $1 million each, the council announced that rather than execution, the medics would spend their lives in prison. One week later, the medics boarded a plane with, among others, Cécilia Sarkozy, the wife of French president Nicolas Sarkozy. The medics arrived home to rapturous applause.
Now that the euphoria has faded, questions linger. Who paid the money? It was funneled through the Qaddafi Foundation, but Libya claims that Europe funded the deal, both in cash and in debt forgiveness. The Europeans say they paid nothing.
But for Roberts, Colizzi, and the rest of the scientists who plunged into the Libyan affair, the far more important question is, what now? There are still hundreds of HIV-infected children in a country that not only does not have the expertise to treat them but seems to deny that the epidemic has arrived. A new pediatric clinic has been built in Benghazi for the infected children, but to Colizzi’s dismay, its first director was the former head of the hospital where the trouble began.
Another problem is the “chilling effect” that the Libyan affair could have on international health care, says Roberts. Thousands of medical workers travel to the developing world each year to offer their expertise. “But who in their right mind would risk their neck working in a foreign country when the government might arrest you, torture you, and threaten to execute you?” he asks.
Nonetheless, AIDS researchers are lining up to help the Libyans. Spearheading the effort is Mark Kline, president of the International Pediatric AIDS Initiative at Baylor College of Medicine in Houston. “The international community can and should do much more,” he says. The Libyan government signed an agreement that Kline penned to establish a regular exchange of scientists and health-care workers. Baylor AIDS experts are already visiting Benghazi to train hospital staff, and Libyan health-care workers may start visiting Houston later this year.
Roberts contends that “a real starting point for collaboration” would be the scientific meeting he discussed with al-Islam. Some of his fellow Nobel laureates have even agreed to cochair it. In the meantime, Roberts faces a difficult decision. The Qaddafi Foundation has invited him to be one of their trustees. “It could be an opportunity to have a positive influence and do good, but my name could also be put behind things that I don’t agree with,” he says.
He might also be welcomed in the diplomatic world if he wanted a career change, but Roberts isn’t interested. “I don’t like the clandestine aspects of the job,” he says. “I’m a scientist. I deal in truth.” Still, when the truth isn’t getting heard, Roberts now knows that a scientist can become a diplomat. “We made a difference,” he says of the researchers who helped free the Tripoli Six. “It’s not often that you can say that.”
