Son of Slain Former Leader Triumphs in Beirut Vote

Saad Hariri, the son of assassinated former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, swept parliamentary elections in Lebanon’s capital Sunday, inheriting the public mantle left by his father and shoring up his chances of becoming prime minister.

A soft-spoken, billionaire businessman who insists that he wasn’t groomed for politics, the 35-year-old Hariri headed a bloc of candidates that won all 19 of the city’s seats in the first election since Syrian troops ended their 29-year domination of Lebanon.

Hariri, who presides over his father’s business empire, is poised to take over the public role left vacant by the assassination three months ago. Voter turnout was light Sunday, but the win was hailed as a triumph of public confidence for the Hariri family. Hariri’s campaign rhetoric was heavy with invocations of “the martyr,” and pictures of the slain patriarch were plastered on shop windows, cars and even bottles of water.

“Today national unity was won in the face of the old regime. Lebanon is united in you,” a beaming Hariri told hundreds of raucous well-wishers who thronged the streets outside the family’s mansion, beating drums, tossing fistfuls of petals and screaming his name. “This is a win for Rafik Hariri.”

The Saudi-reared, Georgetown-educated Saad Hariri ascended to the head of Lebanon’s Sunni Muslim community after his father’s death. Despite his relative youth and inexperience, the debate waged across Beirut these days is not whether he will become prime minister, but how soon he’ll get the job. Some people think Hariri should gain political experience before becoming premier.

Voting for the 128-member parliament will continue every Sunday until June 19. Legislators will then meet to choose a prime minister. Lebanon’s Constitution, which apportions power among the religious sects, stipulates that the position must be held by a Sunni Muslim.

“There is no alternative in Lebanon,” said Adnan Iskander, a political science professor at the American University of Beirut, said of Hariri’s chances of becoming the next premier. “There are now no serious contenders in the Sunni camp.”

After his father’s assassination, Hariri rushed home from Saudi Arabia, where he oversaw his family’s multibillion-dollar empire. In the tumultuous weeks that followed, he threw himself into politics out of a conviction that his father’s work must continue, he said.

But Hariri, married and a father of two, bristles at the suggestion that he was raised to be his father’s successor.

“We were not a dynasty in politics. We never wanted to be a dynasty,” he said in an interview Sunday.

Asked whether he would become prime minister, Hariri switched within a few seconds from coy -- “It’s a secret for me to know and you to find out” -- to modest -- “I don’t have experience, one has to be honest with oneself” -- to resigned -- “I’m a hard-working person and if it comes to it, one should take up the challenge.”

Filling his father’s shoes will prove no mean task. Rafik Hariri showered Beirut with a fortune he made in Saudi Arabia, rebuilt the city center and pushed a traumatized nation to overcome its 15-year civil war. He also spoke against Syrian influence in Lebanese politics.

In death, Rafik Hariri has become a symbol of resistance to Syria. Although Syria denies any involvement in the Feb. 14 assassination, the bombing that killed Hariri pushed Lebanese protesters into the streets and led to the withdrawal of Syrian soldiers under intense pressure from the international community.

“He used to give us hope, and we feel that he paid for our freedom with his blood,” said Khalil Daouk, a 45-year-old bank employee who voted for the Hariri bloc at a whitewashed school near the Hariri home. “Saad Hariri is the man who will continue that legacy for our children’s future.”

As the polls closed Sunday, young men drove wild circles around the vast limestone mansion erected by the Hariri family in the urban tangle of west Beirut, honking their horns and thrusting victory signs out of cars papered thick with pictures of both Hariris.

Inside, Hariri sat quietly beneath golden chandeliers in a vast reception hall ringed with outsized photographs of his father. He wore blue jeans and a blazer, and blinked back tears when asked about the voting.

“Every time [I visited a polling station] I wanted to cry because the people, you know, are still hurt,” he said. “And we are still hurt.”

Hariri moves a bit stiffly, and glances around uncertainly before the cameras. He has been running the family business since the mid-1990s and was chosen over his older brother, Bahaa, to inherit his father’s political career.

So close are Saad Hariri’s ties with the Saudi royal family that he flew to Riyadh on the eve of the election to visit the ailing Saudi ruler King Fahd in the hospital. He flew back to Beirut just in time to tour polling stations, urging voters to come out.

Hariri wasn’t going to lose. His Beirut list, which included candidates from the militant Hezbollah group and Christian parties, faced only a smattering of opponents from leftist and Muslim parties.

His bloc had sealed nine of Beirut’s 19 parliamentary seats before the voting began either because they were uncontested or because all of the candidates were in league with Hariri. But that didn’t seem to be enough for him. He repeatedly begged the people of Beirut to cast their ballots -- even if the winner was a foregone conclusion.

On that count, he lost. The Interior Ministry put turnout in Beirut at 28%, 6 percentage points lower than it was during the 2000 elections, when the elder Hariri was reelected.

The light response came as little surprise. Disappointment was notable in the days leading up to the elections, as Beirut voters complained that politicians’ closed-door deals were arranging the election results. The disaffection was a remarkable comedown after the passionate protests leading up to Syria’s withdrawal one month ago.

Voter apathy appeared to be the worst in the Christian neighborhoods Sunday, where followers of Gen. Michel Aoun, another former prime minister, walked the streets clad in orange to urge voters to boycott the elections.

“There’s no competition, it’s a nomination,” said Michel Metni, a 36-year-old campaign worker for Aoun’s Free Patriotic Movement. “I can give you the results right now. It’s a theater.”

Aoun has railed publicly against many members of the anti-Syria opposition, whom he dismisses as onetime Syria allies who have shifted allegiances to fit the times. His movement has also been sharply critical of the election law, crafted by a pro-Syria parliament in 2000.

“I believe they are making a very grave mistake,” said Adib Farha, an opposition-linked analyst. “The most precious thing one owns in a restored democracy like Lebanon is the right to vote. This is definitely a landmark in Lebanese history, as imperfect as it is.”

In the meantime, the Hariri household was crackling with the sense of history repeating itself. On Friday night, Saad Hariri met with four Beirut families large enough to crowd a posh reception hall the size of a small soccer field. One by one, the family chiefs stepped forward to pledge their loyalty.

In turn, Hariri kissed their children, thanked them and assured them that his father’s patronage would continue. Rafik Hariri was known as a community leader, doling out money, food and thousands of college scholarships to his supporters. In other salons, men from more remote regions sat with impassive faces and patiently folded hands, waiting to ask for favors or pledge their devotion.

“Welcome to the house of the martyr, you who stood by him,” Saad Hariri told the crowd of pudgy men, young girls in slinky tops and older women whose hair was swathed in head scarves. “This house, in the same way it was open in the days of the martyr, it will stay open as long as Hariris stay in the country.

“With our hearts and our souls we’ll redeem you,” cried the room of well-wishers, invoking a phrase traditionally shouted to Arab rulers. But Hariri threw the accolades back into the crowd.

“No,” he cried. “Saad, with his heart and his soul, will redeem you.”

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Times special correspondent Rania Abouzeid contributed to this report.