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Haiti INTRODUCTION
Since the signing of the Treaty of Ryswick between the
kingdoms of Spain and France in 1697, the island of
Hispaniola
(La Isla Española) has played host to two separate and
distinct
societies that we now know as the nations of Haiti and the
Dominican Republic. At first encounter, and without the
benefit
of historical background and context, most students or
observers
find it incongruous that two such disparate nations--one
speaking
French and Creole, the other Spanish--should coexist
within such
limited confines. When viewed in light of the bitter
struggle
among European colonial powers for wealth and influence
both on
the continent and in the New World, however, the
phenomenon
becomes less puzzling. By the late seventeenth century,
Spain was
a declining power. Although that country would maintain
its vast
holdings in mainland North America and South America,
Spain found
itself hard pressed by British, Dutch, and French forces
in the
Caribbean. The Treaty of Ryswick was but one result of
this
competition, as the British eventually took Jamaica and
established a foothold in Central America. The French
eventually
proved the value of Caribbean colonization, in an economic
as
well as a maritime and strategic sense, by developing
modern-day
Haiti, then known as Saint-Domingue, into the most
productive
colony in the Western Hemisphere, if not the world.
Although the other European powers envied the French
their
island jewel, Saint-Domingue eventually was lost not to a
colonial rival, but to an idea. That idea, inspired by the
American Revolution and the French Revolution, was
freedom; its
power was such as to convince a bitterly oppressed
population of
African slaves that anything--reprisal, repression, even
death--
was preferable to its denial. This positive impulse,
liberally
leavened with hatred for the white men, who had seized
them,
shipped them like cargo across the ocean, tortured and
abused
them, and forced women into concubinage and men into
arduous
labor, impelled the black population of Saint-Domingue to
an
achievement still unmatched in history: the overthrow of a
slaveholding colonial power and the establishment of a
revolutionary black republic.
The saga of the Haitian Revolution is so dramatic that
it is
surprising that it has never served as the scenario for a
Hollywood production. Its images are varied and intense:
the
voodoo ceremony and pact sealed in the Bois Cayman
(Alligator
Woods) in anticipation of the slave revolt of 1791; the
blazing,
bloody revolt itself; foreign intervention by British and
Spanish
forces; the charismatic figure of François-Dominique
Toussaint
Louverture, his rise and fateful decision to switch his
allegiance from Spain to France, his surprisingly
effective
command of troops in the field, the relative restraint
with which
he treated white survivors and prisoners, the competence
of his
brief stint as ruler; the French expedition of 1802, of
which
Toussaint exclaimed, "All France has come to invade us";
Toussaint's betrayal and seizure by the French; and the
ensuing
revolution led by Jean-Jacque Dessalines, Henri (Henry)
Christophe, and Alexandre Pétion.
Given the distinctive and auspicious origins of the
Haitian
republic, there is some irony in that the Dominicans
commemorate
as their independence day the date of their overthrow of
Haitian
rule. The Dominican revolt, however, came as a response to
annexation by a Haitian state that had passed from the
promise of
orderly administration under Toussaint to the hard-handed
despotism of Dessalines and had then experienced division,
both
racial and political, between the forces of Christophe and
Pétion. By the time of its conquest of Santo Domingo
(later to
become the Dominican Republic), Haiti had come under the
comparatively stable, but uninspired, stewardship of
Jean-Pierre
Boyer. Although viewed, both at the time and today, by
most
Dominicans as a crude and oppressive state dominated by
the
military, the Haiti that occupied both eastern and western
Hispaniola from 1822 to 1844 can itself be seen as a
victim of
international political and economic isolation. Because
they
either resented the existence of a black republic or
feared a
similar uprising in their own slave-owning regions, the
European
colonial powers and the United States shunned relations
with
Haiti; in the process, they contributed to the
establishment of
an impoverished society, ruled by the military, guided by
the gun
rather than the ballot, and controlled by a small, mostly
mulatto, ruling group that lived well, while their
countrymen
either struggled to eke out a subsistence-level existence
on
small plots of land or flocked to the banners of regional
strongmen in the seemingly never-ending contest for power.
To be
sure, the French colonial experience had left the Haitians
completely unprepared for orderly democratic
self-government, but
the isolation of the post-independence period assured the
exclusion of liberalizing influences that might have
guided Haiti
along a somewhat different path of political and economic
development. By the same token, however, it may be that
Western
governments of the time, and even those of the early
twentieth
century, were incapable of dealing with a black republic
on an
equal basis. The United States occupation of Haiti
(1915-34)
certainly brought little of lasting value to the country's
political culture or institutions, in part because the
Americans
saw the Haitians as uncivilized lackeys and treated them
as such.
Both nations of Hispaniola share--along with much of
the
developing world--the strong tendency toward political
organization built upon the personalistic followings of
strongmen, or caudillos, rather than on more legalistic
bases,
such as constitutionalism. This similarity in political
culture
helps to explain the chronologically staggered parallels
between
the brutal regimes of Rafael Leónidas Trujillo Molina
(1930-61)
in the Dominican Republic and that of the
Duvaliers--François
Duvalier (1957-71) and his son, Jean-Claude Duvalier
(1971-86)--
in Haiti. Both regimes lasted for approximately thirty
years;
both were headed by nonideological despots; both regimes
sustained themselves in power by employing terror and
ruthlessly
suppressing dissent; both drew the ire of an international
community that ultimately proved incapable of directly
forcing
them from power; and both left their countries mired in
political
chaos and internal conflict upon their demise. One may
only hope
that the unstable situation in Haiti after the fall of the
Duvalier regime will resolve itself without further
analogy to
Dominican history--that is, without a civil war. As of
late 1990,
however, the outcome of the situation remained extremely
unpredictable.
Lieutenant General Prosper Avril took power in Haiti in
September 1988, ousting the highly unpopular military
regime led
by Lieutenant General Henri Namphy. Avril, a product of
the
Haitian military tradition and the Duvalierist system,
initially
gave assurances that he would serve only as a transitional
figure
on the road to representative democracy. Whatever his
personal
feelings or motivations, however, Avril by his actions
proved
himself to be simply another corrupt Haitian military
strongman.
Having scheduled elections for 1990, he arrested and
expelled
leading political figures and declared a state of siege in
January of that year. These actions triggered
demonstrations,
protests, and rioting among a population weary of
exploitation
and insincere promises of reform. Despite his public
rhetoric,
Avril presided over a military institution that
perpetuated the
Duvalierist traditions of extortion, graft, and
price-gouging
through state-owned enterprises. At the same time, the
military
made no substantive effort to address the problem of
political
violence. By early 1990, Haitians had had enough of
promises;
many decided to take action on their own, much as they had
during
the uprising of 1985 that swept Jean-Claude Duvalier from
power.
Violent demonstrations began in earnest in early March
1990,
ostensibly in response to the army's fatal shooting of an
eleven-
year-old girl in Petit Goâve. Streets blazed across Haiti
as
demonstrators ignited tires and automobiles, chanted
anti-Avril
slogans, and fought with army troops. Avril soon
recognized the
untenable nature of his position; the United States
ambassador
reportedly influenced the general's decision to step down
in a
private meeting held on March 12. Avril's flight from
Haiti on a
United States Air Force transport added his name to a long
list
of failed Haitian strongmen, and it left the country under
the
guidance of yet another military officer, Major General
(subsequently promoted to Lieutenant General) Hérard
Abraham.
Consultations among civilian political figures produced
a
provisional government headed by a judge of the Court of
Cassation (supreme court), Ertha Pascal-Trouillot, a woman
little-known outside legal circles. Judge Pascal Trouillot
reportedly accepted the post of provisional president
after three
other supreme court judges declined; she was sworn in on
March
13. Appointed along with her was a nineteen-member Council
of
State, made up of prominent civic and political leaders.
Although
the new government announced no clear definitions of the
powers
of the council vis-à-vis the provisional president, some
reports
indicated that the president could exercise independent
authority
in some areas. The most compelling reality, however, was
that all
powers of the provisional government had been granted by
the
Haitian Armed Forces (Forces Armées d'Haïti--FAd'H), which
would
provide the government's only mandate--and perhaps its
major
political constituency--until valid popular elections
could be
held.
The Conseil Electoral Permanent (Permanent Electoral
Council-
-CEP) scheduled local, legislative, and presidential
elections
for sometime between November 4 and November 29, 1990. The
prospects for their successful implementation, however,
appeared
highly problematical at best. Seemingly unchecked
political
violence, which conjured up for many the horrible images
of the
bloody election day of November 1987, presented the major
obstacle to free and fair balloting. Negotiations between
the
FAd'H and the CEP sought to establish security mechanisms
that
would prevent a recurrence of the 1987 tragedy. Popular
confidence in these efforts, however, did not appear to be
very
great.
In a larger sense, the utter absence of any democratic
tradition, or framework, in Haiti stacked the odds heavily
against a smooth governmental transition. Economist Mats
Lundahl
has referred to Haiti as a hysteretic state, "not simply
one
where the past has shaped the present, but also one where
history
constitutes one of the strongest obstacles to change."
Several
conditions prevailing in Haiti gave substance to this
definition.
Among the wide array of personalistic political parties,
only
three--Marc Bazin's Movement for the Installation of
Democracy in
Haiti (Mouvement pour l'Instouration de la Démocratie en
Haïti--
MIDH), Serge Gilles's National Progressive Revolutionary
Haitian
Party (Parti Progressiste Révolutionnaire
Haïtien--Ponpra), and
Sylvio C. Claude's Christian Democrat Party of Haiti
(Parti
National Chrétien d'Haiti--PDCH)--displayed any semblance
of
coherent programs or disciplined party apparatus. The
odyssey of
the Haitian military, from dominant power before the
Duvaliers to
subordinate status under the dynastic dictatorship, left
uncertain the intentions of the FAd'H under Abraham's
leadership.
The return of such infamous Duvalierist cronies as former
interior minister Roger LaFontant and persistent rumors
that
Jean-Claude himself was contemplating a return to the
nation he
had bled dry for fifteen years provoked outrage among a
population that wanted nothing so much as to rid itself of
the
remaining vestiges of that predatory regime. According to
some
observers, internal conditions had approached, by the late
summer
of 1990, a sort of critical mass, which, if not defused by
way of
fair and free elections, could explode into generalized
and
ultimately futile violence.
In July one of the more responsible political leaders,
Sylvio
Claude, exhorted Haitians to block the return of
undesirables by
seizing the international airport outside Port-au-Prince.
In a
speech on Radio Nationale, he declared, "Instead of
letting [the
army] go kill you later, make them kill you now." Among
the
figures targeted by Claude for such action was former
president
Leslie F. Manigat, not previously considered a
controversial
figure by most observers. Perhaps in response to such
rabble-
rousing, the provisional government announced on August 1
that
Manigat would be barred from returning to his native
Haiti.
In late July, the Council of State issued a communiqué,
laying down four conditions that it deemed necessary for
holding
successful elections. First, effective legal action had to
be
initiated against those who had participated in the
November 1987
attacks and other political murders; second, a general
climate of
public security needed to be established in order to
encourage
voters to go to the polls; third, the public
administration
should be purged of entrenched, corrupt bureaucrats; and
fourth,
some checks had to be established over the powers of the
rural
section chiefs (chefs de section), so that the
rural
population could vote in an atmosphere free of coercion
and
intimidation. It was not clear what action the Council
would take
if these conditions had not been met by November.
In the Dominican Republic, events unfolded along a much
more
predictable path. Although Dominican politics were
boisterous,
and physical clashes--occasionally punctuated by
gunfire--between
the members of contending political parties were not
unusual, the
democratic system established after the 1965 civil war and
the
United States intervention continued to function with
comparative
efficiency (especially when compared with that of Haiti).
The
elections of May 16, 1990, however, demonstrated the
manifold
weaknesses of this system. The most glaring example of the
lack
of institutionalization in Dominican politics was that the
major
contenders for the presidency were the same two men who
had
opposed each other in the elections of 1966, namely, Juan
Bosch
Gaviño and incumbent Joaquín Balaguer Ricardo. Despite
almost a
quarter of a century of relatively free political
organization
and competition, the two modern-day caudillos, both
octogenarians, still sallied into the arena flying their
own
personalistic banners rather than those of truly
established
parties. The one party that had displayed some level of
institutionalization, the Dominican Revolutionary Party
(Partido
Revolucionario Dominicano--PRD), had split into
antagonistic
factions--each with its own caudillo--and never presented
a
serious challenge to the two elder statesmen.
The elections themselves, like most during the
post-civil war
era, were lively, controversial, and bitterly contested.
Despite
debilitating national problems, such as a chronic shortage
of
electricity, rising inflation, and persistent poverty,
President
Balaguer retained enough support in a presidential race
contested
by sixteen political parties (some running in coalition)
to eke
out a narrow victory over Bosch. The final tally showed
Balaguer
with 678,268 votes against Bosch's 653,423. Like most
Dominican
politicians before him, Bosch did not accept defeat with
magnanimity; he lashed out at Balaguer and the Central
Electoral
Board, accusing both of fraud during balloting that
impartial
observers had judged to be fair and orderly. Bosch's early
public
statements exhorted his followers to stage public protests
against the alleged electoral fraud. Early fears of
widespread
street violence initiated by disgruntled Bosch supporters
proved
unfounded, however, and Balaguer's reelection was
confirmed by
the Board on June 12, 1990.
Although it traditionally bends a little around
election
time, the Dominican democratic system showed few signs of
breaking completely. Economic developments, however, will
exercise a decisive impact on the nation's future
stability. In
that regard, Balaguer's reelection could prove to be a
storm
warning for the republic. At eighty-one years of age,
Balaguer
reportedly retained his enthusiasm for hands-on
administration of
government policy. The major economic aspects of that
policy,
however, did not promise a significant degree of
improvement in
the short term. Balaguer, since his days as a protégé of
Trujillo, has believed in the liberal application of funds
to
public works projects--the construction of schools,
housing,
public buildings--in order to boost employment and
purchase
political support. Such gratuitous expenditures, however,
largely
served to exacerbate the government's fiscal problems,
while
masking to only a limited degree the consistently high
levels of
unemployment prevailing in the republic. Another tenet of
Balaguer's economic creed was a refusal to submit to an
economic
adjustment program dictated by the International Monetary
Fund
(IMF--see Glossary).
By ruling out an IMF-mandated
program,
Balaguer avoided further short-term austerity measures,
such as
devaluation and price increases on subsidized items; this
enabled
him to stand on a platform of economic nationalism and to
proclaim his opposition to economic hardship imposed from
abroad
(that is, from the United States, which is strongly
identified
with the IMF throughout Latin America). In the long run,
however,
his obstinacy diminished Dominican standing with foreign
creditors, and it limited any new infusions of capital
needed to
sustain the impressive growth of nontraditional exports
achieved
during the latter 1980s. This, in turn, would hinder the
accumulation of foreign exchange needed to finance the
imports
required to sustain industrial development. Moreover,
although an
austerity program undoubtedly would pinch still further an
already hard-pressed population, it might also help to
balance
the budget, to stabilize domestic prices, and to boost
exports,
all highly desirable potential results.
If the Dominican situation demonstrated anything to
Haitians,
it was that democracy is not a panacea for domestic
turmoil. As
Winston Churchill observed, it is the worst political
system
"except for all the others." Since Trujillo's death,
Dominicans
have struggled to adjust to an imperfect system, under
less than
ideal conditions; the final outcome of this process is
still in
doubt. For Haitians, the small step represented by valid
elections could be their first lurch along a much longer
road to
peace and stability.
August 21, 1990
***
In the months following completion of research and
writing of
this book, significant political developments occurred in
Haiti.
On December 16, 1990, over 60 percent of registered voters
turned
out to elect political neophyte Jean-Bertrand Aristide
president
of Haiti. Aristide, a Roman Catholic priest and an
advocate of
liberation theology (see Glossary),
registered an
overwhelming
first-round victory against a number of opponents. His
popular
identification as an outspoken opponent of the regime of
Jean-
Claude Duvalier apparently moved some 67 percent of voters
to
select Aristide as their leader. More traditional
politicians
such as Marc Bazin, Louis Dejoie, and Silvio Claude
trailed
badly, reflecting their lack of appeal beyond the upper
and
middle classes. Aristide's victory came as a result of
what was
arguably the first free and fair election in Haitian
history.
Right-wing backlash against the election of the radical
leftist Aristide expressed itself in a coup attempt led by
Duvalierist Roger Lafontant on January 6, 1991. Assisted
by a
small contingent of army personnel, Lafontant seized the
National
Palace, took prisoner Provisional President
Pascal-Trouillot, and
announced his control of the government over the state-run
television station. Lafontant's pronouncement turned out
to be
decidedly premature, however, as loyalist army forces
stormed the
palace twelve hours later on the orders of FAd'H commander
Abraham. Lafontant and those of his fellow conspirators
who
survived the fighting were captured and incarcerated. The
coup
also ignited violent street demonstrations in which mobs
lynched
at least seven people they accused of Duvalierist ties or
sympathies. Violence continued in the interim between the
elections and the presidential inauguration on February 7,
1991.
Particularly intense anti-Duvalierist demonstrations took
place
on the night of January 26, leaving more than a dozen
dead. On
the night of February 1, 1991, suspected Duvalierists set
fire to
an orphanage in Port-au-Prince administered by Aristide.
Aristide's inauguration on February 7, 1991, was a gala
event, befitting its historic nature. As expected, the new
president delivered a spellbinding inaugural address. In
it, he
renounced his US$10,000 a month salary as a "scandal in a
country
where people cannot eat." Although the address was short
on
specifics of policy, its tone was one of gratitude and
support
for the poverty-afflicted constituency that had provided
such a
striking electoral mandate. The address was also
conciliatory
with regard to the military. Aristide described a "wedding
between the army and the people," and hinted that the army
would
henceforth function as a public security force in order to
lessen
the threat emanating from right-wing forces such as those
directed by Lafontant.
Beyond his rhetorical outreach to the rank and file,
Aristide
moved quickly to shore up his rule in the face of possible
opposition from within the officer corps of the FAd'H.In
his
inaugural address, he called on General Abraham to retire
six of
the eight highest-ranking generals as well as the colonel
who
commanded the Presidential Guard. The appeal reflected
Aristide's
surprisingly powerful position, based on his overwhelming
electoral victory and his demonstrated popular support,
which
extended even to the ranks of the military. The fact that
Abraham
complied with the request confirmed the already rather
obvious
disarray of the FAd'H and the general unwillingness of the
institution to reassume political power in Haiti.
On February 9, Aristide proposed René Préval as Haiti's
prime
minister. Préval, a Belgian-trained agronomist and close
associate of the president, was subsequently approved by
the
National Assembly. Although Aristide won a smashing
personal
victory in his presidential race, no one party or movement
achieved a majority in the assembly. This fact promised a
certain
degree of stalemate and inertia in the legislative process
under
the Aristide administration. Such a situation did not seem
conducive to the development of programs to deal
effectively with
the country's many severe problems. At the same time,
however, an
assembly based on coalition and compromise should serve to
check
any temptation by the new government toward heavy-handed
or even
authoritarian rule. In any case, the assembly was a new
institution in a new government in what many hoped would
be a new
and democratic Haiti.
March 14, 1991
Richard A. Haggerty
Data as of December 1989
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