For many Lebanese, time stopped on February 14, 2005. This date will always be remembered as the day when former Prime Minister Rafic B. Hariri’s motorcade was blown up, killing at least 16 people and injuring more than 150. Among the injured was MP and former AUB professor Basil Fleihan, who is still fighting for his life in a French hospital. For latest updates on Fleihan’s condition go to http://basil.typepad.com) Mazen Zahabi, a former AUB Medical Center nurse who had recently joined Hariri's medical team, and Rowad Haidar (BBA '85), who was the administrative director at the St. Georges Hotel, also perished in the blast. (see Zahabi story on page 5) Indeed, even ten days after the event, TV stations had not quit replaying scenes from the tragedy and people had not altogether resumed their every-day activities. Business remained choppy. One topic dominated all conversations and news shows—the assassination of a former prime minister and the blow to the country’s revived, tourist-magnet image. Even the image-conscious heart of the city had turned political, with TV sets in many restaurants and pubs fixed on news broadcasts, instead of on the usual program of Fashion TV models and MTV clips. While many, including Hariri’s family, remained stunned, shunning most types of entertainment more than a week after the assassination, others galvanized to express their anger and frustration toward the violence that disrupted their dreams and conjured up harrowing flashbacks of a war-ravaged era. Members of the AUB community did not remain on the sidelines. In the first hours following the explosion, the American University Medical Center medical staff quickly took action, transforming reception areas into triage and treatment clinics. (see story on page 4) Later, when classes resumed after three days of national mourning, the AUB Youth Club organized a candle-light vigil outside West Hall out of “allegiance to the prime minister and in solidarity with his family,” according to Salah Zeidan, a junior business student and a member of the Youth Club. One week after the tragedy, students and staff protested the recent violence with a series of brief sit-ins, in which they observed a minute of silence for the dead. Some 3,000 students gathered outside College Hall, before marching toward the site of the blast near the St. Georges Hotel, where they joined a massive general demonstration marking one week to the day of the assassination. They carried banners calling for independence, and demanding to “find out the truth” about the atrocity. A number of faculty members also participated in the general demonstration. Many students wore red-and-white scarves, a signature of the Lebanese opposition's “Intifada for Independence,” which was launched on February 18 and described as a peaceful campaign to oust the government and rid Lebanon of Syrian troops. Simultaneously, at least 500 AUB doctors and medical staff, including Vice President for Medical Affairs Nadim Cortas, also suspended work for half an hour at 12:30 pm at the American University Hospital, which had received about 150 casualties, including Fleihan, having suffered from burns that cover 95 percent of his body. The hospital also received nine dead and another casualty who died shortly after arrival. Meanwhile, more than 250 AUB professors and staff, including AUB President John Waterbury and a number of deans and vice-presidents, sang the national anthem at 12:55 pm—the exact time of the blast—in front of West Hall and then observed a minute of silence to honor all those who died in the explosion. “It is a great loss of a man who built the country during his life, and united it during his death,” said Maroun Kisirwani, dean of Student Affairs, following the minute of silence. As the ongoing vigils and spontaneous protests continued in downtown Beirut for the tenth consecutive day, it was apparent that someone like Hariri would not be easily forgotten, as many of his supporters, friends, and allies kept on reiterating in interviews during the week following his assassination. Words such as “larger-than-life,” “visionary,” and “Mr. Lebanon” are among a long list of impressive adjectives used to describe Hariri, who served as prime minister for 10 years between 1992 and 2004. Politically, Hariri is credited with securing the 1989 Taif peace accord which put an end to the 1975-1990 civil war; for creating SOLIDERE, the joint-stock company that rebuilt downtown Beirut; and for stabilizing the Lebanese currency. While Hariri’s economic policy may not have garnered consensus, his philanthropy did. Known to have paid—through his foundation—for the education of more than 30,000 students, many of whom have studied at AUB, Hariri, an AUB trustee, was also one of the University’s greatest donors. He has donated more than $20 million to various university projects and was the driving force behind the renewed confidence in Lebanon, which encouraged many foreign faculty and staff to join AUB. Among his many donations was the Houssam Eddine Hariri Building, a $4.5—million 10-story faculty housing unit located on the west end of the campus and inaugurated in 1992. It was named after his son, Houssam, who died in a car accident while still at college in the United States. For his generosity, AUB awarded Hariri in 1991 the first University Medal of Honor. Always exuding confidence and a positive attitude, Hariri was quick to visit the campus only two days after unknown assailants threw two sticks of dynamite into the AUB lower campus in October 1998, the year President John Waterbury assumed office. His visit was meant to express “Lebanon’s solidarity and support for the University” and to encourage the new president to stick with his decision to live in Lebanon. But Hariri’s success did not come easily. He was born into a modest peasant family in Sidon, yet he persevered with education and hard work to become one of Forbes 100 wealthiest men in the world in 2003, with a fortune estimated at about $4 billion. Hariri decided to use his wealth to help the less fortunate and educate them so they could rebuild their country. The brutal death of Hariri, who is survived by his seven children, and his wife Nazik, left a hollow feeling among many of his supporters and detractors alike. But this sadness was coupled with a sense of anger that manifested itself in spontaneous, yet peaceful demonstrations of hundreds of thousands of people who wished to hold on vehemently to what they believe the late leader was working for: the unity of the Lebanese people.
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