The elephant in the Tripoli hotel room

01:14am Tripoli: and in the foreign journalists’ hotel, an order goes out over the quaintly crackling Tannoy, hard-wired into every room and broadcast through the lobbies, corridors and coffee-bars: “All journalists to assemble for a press conference, beginning in five minutes.”

Few of us were in bed. An hour had elapsed since the vote in New York. There’d been a few bursts of gunfire outside, but nothing out of the ordinary. On satellite TV, we were watching pictures from Benghazi of the vast crowd there going wild: fireworks, flares, cheers and chanting.

But news that Western – and possibly Arab – warplanes were now authorised to strike Gaddafi’s advancing army – and possibly bomb air bases and command posts in the capital and other cities – was not going to play well in Tripoli.  We were beginning to brace ourselves.

For the first time, at one of the dire Government news conferences, every journalist in town was present and attentive. The Government Minister said that all the Libyan armed forces wanted was to protect civilians too. “We care about our people and we care about the territorial integrity of our country,” he said.The Libyan government had just told the UN Secretary General’s Special Representative that they were ready – “immediately” – to call a ceasefire to talk, he insisted, but that they needed an interlocutor. I asked whether the Government felt ambushed by the vote.

The Minister was in the middle of answering my question when we first heard the rabble.

Distant at first, then growing into a cacophony of raucous protest, as an unruly “green” mob of adrenalised Gaddafi United fans burst through our hotel’s glass doors, brandishing their green flags, wielding pictures of their revolutionary, anti-colonialist hero.

It appeared highly orchestrated. The Government spokesman was grinning. It was very loud. Not overtly threatening; possibly designed to intimidate, but more likely intended just to send a signal – via the world’s media – that the regime was angry. Perhaps an early cypher for how things might get if British, French or American warplanes or missiles start targeting command posts and bases in Tripoli.

The UN’s stated objective in authorising “all necessary measures” to counter Gaddafi’s forces as they advance on Benghazi is to stop the bloodshed.

But the clear, unstated strategic objective is regime change. It’s pretty obvious. And we’ve been here before.

This time though, there’s more unanimity. The world’s had enough of Muammar Gaddafi. Even those he thought were his friends in the Arab world and in Africa have deserted him, weary of his dangerous eccentricitiy. His inflamatory invective, in a speech, just before the UN vote, was red rag to bull.

“They are finished,” he ranted. “They are wiped out,” as he ordered what he called the cleansing of Benghazi. He said Libyans would track down the rebels – “search for them, alley by alley, road by road”.

He said “massive waves of people” would come to the rescue of the people of Benghazi, “who are calling out for help”, he said, “asking us to rescue them. We should come to their rescue.”

He ended his call to arms with these words: “And I, Muammar Gaddafi, I will die for my people. With Allah’s help.”

Amid all the nationalist rhetoric and indignation in Tripoli which followed the UN vote late last night, the Colonel’s long shadow loomed like – well, like that of an elephant in the room.

The Brother Leader’s beaming face leered like that of Big Brother over the shoulder of the Government Minister at the 2am news conference. Colonel staring menacingly – in bedouin garb, in full military regalia, in shades – from posters held up and kissed by the protesters who invaded the hotel, full of more than 100 foreign journalists, all here at the regime’s invitation.

The reality is that Libya still has it in its gift to stop this escalation in its tracks, to forestall the airstrikes. The Libyan Government can prevent more bloodshed. A ceasefire would certainly help. But ultimately it comes down to one thing and that’s the one thing the Libyan government, refuses to – or dares not – contemplate or talk about. The elephant with the long shadow.

At 02:30am I found myself being lectured by the eloquent Libyan Government spokesman, Moussa Ibrahim, who cornered me in the lobby.

“I am 36,” he said. “I am young-ish. Generations of my age and younger all want change. They all want things to be better.”

His rant actually lasted for 14 minutes. Moussa was on form. Fired up.

He continued: “They all want things to happen. In housing, salaries, transport, education, health and some political changes. A written constitution, freedom of the press, opening up, transparency, all of these things.

“But we want to do that peacefully, within the unity of Libya. And without foreign intervention and without killing each other.”

Fine sentiments, Mr Moussa Ibrahim…but spot what’s missing in all that. Any mention of the elephant of Tripoli.

Yet if the message coming from democratic protestors in Benghazi, from Zawiyah, Misrata, Ajdabiya and even from the capital itself over the past month reflects the true, long-unheard voice of the brow-beaten Libyan people. It is the message the world heard so clearly in that rumble, distant at first, then growing into a thunderous cacophany: “Gaddafi must go.”