2005 - The assassination of Hariri

DUBAI: The Middle East of the early 2000s was in a state of flux. Saddam Hussein was toppled in Iraq. Al-Qaeda and its various hydra-headed affiliates were running amok, popping up everywhere. Terrorists were on a killing spree. There was chaos and confusion.

It was during this particularly unstable time that I entered journalism, at Lebanon’s Future Television. There were plenty of stories to cover in the region, mostly of death and destruction, conspiracy and collusion, revenge and vendetta. There seemed to be an unending and singularly vicious cycle of violence.

In Lebanon, on the other hand, Rafik Hariri was scripting a rare success story. By following his vision, and thanks to the Saudi-brokered Taif Agreement in 1989 that brought to an end the civil war, the country had finally found its feet as the “Switzerland of the East.”

Hariri was at the helm as prime minister from 1992 to 1998, and again from 2000 to 2004. He turned Lebanon around, infusing new life into a country that had been ripped asunder by a long, bloody civil war.

It was a dream time for the nation. Lebanon became the talk of the town in shisha cafes across the region. Here was a Middle Eastern country proving that it could rise from the ashes and earn the admiration of its people, as well as that of the wider world. Proving that it could set an example for others to follow. The one man responsible for this unprecedented, historic turnaround was Hariri.

Unfortunately, as the saying goes, all good things come to an end — or, in the case of the Middle East, are brought to a violent end with bloody carnage.

And so it was that the purveyors of death and destruction, the satanic forces that had been lying in wait for a long time, struck. The location was the center of Beirut, and the strike hit with the destructive force of about 1,000 kilograms of explosives. Hariri was assassinated at the age of only 60.

I was nearly 4,000 kilometers away at the time, in London, working for Asharq Al-Awsat. I remember that day with pain and pathos. It was Monday, Feb. 14, 2005. Those were pre-Twitter days, and suddenly I found myself deluged with text messages. I rushed to my office.

I watched the whole world freeze as I saw the images of the exploding car. This was not just another news story to me, because I had worked at Future Television, which Hariri founded, and I had known him personally. I also knew, and had worked with, a number of other people who were at the scene of the explosion in Beirut, including the cameraman who was seen weeping in images at the time.

My pain and anger were all the greater because I had witnessed what was commonly referred to as “the second golden era of Lebanon,” between 1992 and 2005, when Hariri was in his prime. Many memories flashed through my mind.

I remembered distinctly the feelings of euphoria when French President Jacques Chirac had visited and walked hand-in-hand with Hariri in downtown Beirut. That happened on a beautiful summer night in the early 2000s, when the center of the city was buzzing with citizens, expatriates and tourists. They were out to enjoy the experience of fine dining, shopping, clubbing or puffing on shisha in the newly renovated heart of the Lebanese capital.

The atmosphere felt so busy and alive, and I recall sitting with several friends. We had chosen to go to a well-known downtown cafe opposite the headquarters of the now-defunct pan-Arab daily newspaper Al-Hayat. We struggled to attract the attention of the waiters, who were doing their best to handle the flood of orders being thrown at them, mostly by much better-tipping Gulf tourists who, for obvious reasons, did not have as many problems as we students did in getting their attention.

Then, all of a sudden, a musician playing the saxophone beside our table stopped his music. Everybody stood and people all around us began clapping and cheering as Hariri appeared on the street, holding hands with Chirac.

The French president was on an official visit to Lebanon, and Hariri decided to show him firsthand the progress made by the Lebanese people, both socially and physically. What better way to do this than take Chirac out for a walk to experience the kind of vibrant life Hariri had worked so hard to provide for his nation?

There were no bodyguards in sight, no weapons and no formalities whatsoever. On the contrary, both leaders casually greeted people and shook hands with them. The musician began, with no prompting, to play the French national anthem on his saxophone.

It was phenomenal, and incredible, how Hariri managed to turn Lebanon around in less than a decade. There was a new airport, a new downtown area, and tourism flourished. Everything was going right for the country. It was indeed Lebanon in its prime, a legendary second golden period.

Watching from my office in London, I realized immediately how the assassination of Hariri was going to affect Lebanon. I anticipated, and then painfully witnessed, the steady deterioration and institutions failing, one after the other.

Two decades later, Lebanon has defaulted on its debt, people are protesting about the lack of jobs, opportunities and even basic necessities of modern life such as electricity 24 hours a day.

More concerning is the reality that, regardless of the government that is elected, or the heavy blow Hezbollah suffered during its most recent conflict with Israel, which brought destruction and despair to the heart of Beirut, members of the Iran-backed groups of the country.

The assassination of Hariri wiped out all hope of a prosperous and peaceful Lebanon. This only added to the depressing scenario that existed then, and continues to exist, in the wider Middle East.

Twenty years have passed since Hariri was assassinated, and in that time I have written umpteen articles on the state of affairs in Lebanon. Whenever I write on the topic, I recall wistfully and nostalgically the stellar vision and leadership that Hariri provided for his country. Sadly, however, those days are gone — and they are not coming back.

Hariri had a vision and that vision died with him. His critics say he was a Saudi puppet, and that he brought on the financial debt Lebanon now faces. Of course the country had to borrow money under Hariri, but it was on its way to recovery and the numbers at the time showed it.

As for the accusation that Lebanon was the Kingdom’s puppet, well, as Saudi Defense Minister Prince Khaled bin Salman rightly put it during an interview with media group Vice, Saudi Arabia sent tourists to Lebanon and Iran sent terrorists (including Hezbollah, which is accused of killing Hariri).

If there is any doubt over which vision was and is better for Lebanon, one only has to compare the central Beirut that existed under Hariri when Chirac visited, with what it is today under the armed rule of Hezbollah: much like the rest of the country, it is torn apart by political divisions and unable to function, with businesses forced to close and tourists nowhere to be found.

On Feb. 14, 2025, 20 years to the day after Hariri was assassinated, his supporters took to the streets once again, able for the first time to commemorate the memory of the late statesman without any real fear of threats from Hezbollah. The militia’s leader, Hassan Nasrallah, and most of his deputies were killed by Israel during the dramatic events of 2024.

In January this year, after a power vacuum that persisted for more than two years amid political deadlock, Lebanon’s parliament finally freely elected a new president, former army chief Joseph Aoun. The headline on the Arab News story that reported this development was “The rebirth of a republic” — the republic that Rafik Hariri dreamed of and in pursuit of which he gave his life.

• Faisal J. Abbas, Arab News editor-in-chief, began his journalism career in Lebanon.