Anti-Syrian Lawmaker Killed in Beirut Blast
Attack Heightens Worries Among Weary Lebanese

By Anthony Shadid
Washington Post Foreign Service
Thursday, June 14, 2007

BEIRUT, June 13 -- A powerful car bomb tore through a stretch of Beirut's popular seafront Wednesday, killing an outspoken anti-Syrian lawmaker, his son and eight other people in the third assassination of a parliament member in less than two years.

"By the grace of God," a weathered plaque in sloping Arabic script, a few feet from the explosion, read with a sense of fatalism.

The killing of Walid Eido, 65, further tested the fragility of a Lebanese government mired in a months-long confrontation with its opposition, a protracted battle with Islamic militants in a Palestinian refugee camp and a deepening crisis over the selection of a new president this fall. Weeks of morbid anticipation had preceded Wednesday's bombing, with traffic sparse in Beirut's streets after sunset and many residents opting to stay home at night.

Almost immediately after the explosion, figures from across the political spectrum here denounced the bombing. The Shiite Muslim movement Hezbollah, the opposition's leading faction, said the attack was "targeting Lebanon and its stability."

As in the past, anti-Syrian lawmakers cast the assassination as another episode in their confrontation with Damascus, saying Syrian authorities were trying to deprive the Lebanese parliament of its anti-Syrian majority through methodical killings.

"We're all targeted," said lawmaker Jawad Boulos. "It's no coincidence these people are being assassinated."

The bomb, weighing as much as 175 pounds, was concealed in a parked car and exploded in late afternoon beneath a bluff of white and pink wildflowers as Eido left a sporting club he frequented almost daily.

The blast shattered windows 100 yards away and hurled splintered wreckage of cars and bloodied body parts across the pavement. Rescue workers rushed over the shards of glass, filling the air with what sounded like dissonant chimes. Onlookers milled around the site, some carrying a banner for Eido's party.

Along with Eido and his son, the dead included two bodyguards and six other civilians, including two members of Nejmeh, a Lebanese soccer team. At least 11 people were wounded.

"For a moment, I even forgot my name," said Saif Jabbar, 32, who was around the corner when the bomb detonated.

Jabbar, an Iraqi, said he had left Baghdad nine months ago, drawn to what he called Lebanon's tolerance. "I came here to escape all the explosions and the blasts. I came here for safety, and all these things happen," he said. "Who knows? Maybe I'll go back."

Still visibly shaken an hour after the explosion, he looked out at the street. He shook his head at questions, still unable to hear. Then he shrugged. "You die where it's written that you die. What am I supposed to do?"

The bomb was the sixth in Beirut and its environs since May, but differed markedly in size and impact. The other explosions killed two people, but were small and seemed designed more to instill fear in the already tense city than to cause harm or damage. Wednesday's bomb detonated on a popular stretch of cafes and restaurants, with a worn Ferris wheel, overlooking the Mediterranean.

"My car is gone, and now who's going to compensate me -- God?" asked Wafik Khaled, a 67-year-old taxi driver.

Soon after the bombing, a Lebanese television station loyal to the government aired footage of the destruction. "What next? Who's next?" the caption read.

Eido was a former judge known best as an ally of Rafiq al-Hariri, the former prime minister who was assassinated less than a mile away in 2005. During the civil war of 1975-90, Eido was steeped in the politics of the Sunni Muslim community, belonging to a militia in West Beirut known as the Murabitoun.

As a lawmaker since 2000, he ranked as a second-tier figure, lacking the popular backing enjoyed by Lebanon's more powerful politicians, but he was outspoken and at times bluntly provocative in his criticism of the opposition.

Many people in Lebanon, particularly opposition sympathizers, have questioned whether Syria was behind the recent bombings, and speculation about potential culprits runs rife. But Eido's allies saw his killing as a premeditated political calculation, similar to the assassinations of lawmakers Gebran Tueni in December 2005 and Pierre Gemayel in November 2006.

Through deaths and defections, the anti-Syrian majority has dwindled to a three-seat margin. That has implications for this fall, when parliament is due to make the contentious choice of successor to President Emile Lahoud. So far, Lahoud, allied with Syria, has refused to sign a decree for an election to fill one of the parliamentary vacancies.

"The Syrian team is abolishing the majority with gunfire," said Elias Atallah, a lawmaker from Eido's bloc.

Opposition politicians who consider the government illegitimate took a different stance on Eido's death. "I think his value and role are more important than just a number in parliament," said lawmaker Ali Hassan Khalil.

Since Hariri's assassination, Lebanon has remained in almost perpetual crisis -- from Hezbollah's war with Israel last summer to the opposition's sit-in in downtown Beirut since November. But to many people here, the country feels even more precarious today.

There are worries about Syria's reaction to a U.N. Security Council vote last month to form a court to try suspects in Hariri's assassination, a decision taken over the objections of Syria and many members of the opposition.

The Lebanese army, meanwhile, has been fighting Islamic radicals for three weeks in Nahr al-Bared, a Palestinian refugee camp near the northern city of Tripoli. The army insists the battle is going according to plan, but its casualties continue to rise. Two more soldiers were killed in fighting Wednesday.

"No one wants to stand in one place, anywhere," said Yusuf Nahal, 40, watching soldiers cordon the site of the Beirut blast. "Look around. God help the people," he added. "I'm serious. From here on, it's all destruction."

Special correspondent Alia Ibrahim contributed to this report.