Haiti:The land that wouldn't lie
Peter Hallward
Published 28 January 2010
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http://www.newstatesman.com/international-politics/2010/02/essay-haiti-france-colonial The Haitian people overthrew slavery, uprooted dictators and foreign
military rule, and elected a liberation theologian as president. The
west has made them pay for their audacity.
After weeks of intense media attention, some of the causes of Haiti's
glaring poverty are obvious: years of chronic underinvestment,
disadvantageous terms of trade, deforestation, soil erosion.
What is less well understood is that -- natural disasters aside -- the
fundamental reasons for Haiti's current destitution originate as
responses to Haitian strength, rather than as the result of Haitian
weakness, corruption or incompetence.
Haiti is the only place in the world where colonial slavery was
abolished by the slaves themselves, in the face of implacable
violence. As historians of the revolution that began there in 1791
have often pointed out, there is good reason to consider it the most
subversive event in modern history.
Independent Haiti was surrounded by slave colonies in the Caribbean
and flanked by slave-owning economies in northern, central and
southern America.
The three great imperial powers of the day -- France, Spain and
Britain -- sent all the troops at their disposal to try to crush the
uprising; incredibly, Haitian armies led by Toussaint l'Ouverture and
then Jean-Jacques Dessalines defeated them one after the other. By
late 1803, to the astonishment of contemporary observers, Haitian
armies had managed to break the chains of colonial slavery not at
their weakest link, but at their strongest.
This extraordinary victory provoked an extraordinary backlash. The war
killed a third of Haiti's people and left its cities and plantations
in ruins.
When it was finally over, the imperial powers closed ranks and,
appalled by what the French foreign minister called a "horrible
spectacle for all white nations", imposed a blockade designed to
isolate and stifle this most troubling "threat of a good example".
France re-established the trade and diplomatic relations essential to
the new country's survival only when Haiti agreed, 20 years after
winning independence, to pay its old colonial master enormous amounts
of "compensation" for the loss of its slaves and colonial property --
an amount roughly equal to the annual French budget at the time.
With its economy shattered by the colonial wars, Haiti could repay
this debt only by borrowing, at extortionate rates of interest, vast
sums from French banks, which did not receive the last instalment
until 1947.
President Jean-Bertrand Aristide's request that France pay back some
of this money, in the run-up to the bicentennial celebration of
independence in 2004, encouraged the former colonial power to help
overthrow his government that year.
New plantations
The slaves who won the war against the French were determined, above
all, to avoid any return to a plantation economy or its industrial
equivalent.
Over the course of the 19th century, large parts of Latin America, as
well as much of Europe and Europe's colonies, were ravaged by the
systematic expropriation of peasant farms, and of collectively or
indigenously owned land and resources.
In Haiti, however, there was significant resistance to such trends,
nourished by exceptionally resilient forms of communal solidarity and
popular culture -- for instance, a reliance on collective work
(konbits), widely shared religious affiliations and a rich tradition
of oral history.
This resistance in turn solicited powerful countermeasures, including,
from 1915 until 1934, the first and most damaging of an apparently
unstoppable series of US military occupations.
The Americans abolished an irritating clause in Haiti's constitution
that had barred foreigners from owning Haitian property, took over the
national bank, reorganised the economy to ensure more regular payments
of foreign debt, imposed forced labour on the peasantry, and
expropriated swaths of land for the benefit of new plantations, such
as those operated by the US-owned Haitian American Sugar Company.
As many as 50,000 peasants were dispossessed in northern Haiti alone.
Most importantly, the Americans transformed Haiti's army into an
instrument capable of overcoming popular opposition to these
developments.
By 1918, peasant resistance gave rise to a full-scale insurgency, led
by Charlemagne Péralte; US troops responded with what one worried
commander described as the "practically indiscriminate killing of
natives", "the most startling thing of its kind that has ever taken
place in the Marine Corps".
The next phase in the "modernisation" of the Haitian economy was
contracted out to the noiriste dictator François "Papa Doc" Duvalier,
who came to power in 1957 through a rigged election in which he won
only a quarter of the votes garnered by his main rival.
Four years later, Duvalier ripped up the last shreds of the
constitution when he arranged for his re-election, winning 1,320,748
votes to zero.
Duvalier's determination to gain complete control over the country
encountered resistance not only among the rural poor, but also among
more cosmopolitan sections of the elite.
He overcame both problems by supplementing the army he inherited from
its US patrons with a more home-grown paramilitary force, nicknamed
the "Tontons Macoutes" after a child-snatching bogeyman from Creole
mythology.
The paranoid ferocity of Duvalier's regime has long been the stuff of
legend. In the autumn of 1964, for instance, after a dozen young men
in the south-western city of Jérémie launched a reckless insurgency,
Duvalier's militia publicly slaughtered hundreds of their kin.
By the mid-1960s, nearly 80 per cent of Haiti's professionals and
intellectuals had fled to safety abroad, and most of them never
returned.
Estimates of the total number of people killed under Duvalier vary
between 30,000 and 50,000. "Never has terror had so bare and ignoble
an object," reflected Graham Greene (whose 1966 novel, The Comedians,
is set in Duvalier's Haiti).
The CIA was impressed with the result, noting that by the 1970s "most
Haitians [were] so completely downtrodden as to be politically inert".
"Death plan"
Such downtreading was the precondition for international imposition of
the neoliberal policies that began to reshape Haiti's economy when
Jean-Claude Duvalier inherited his father's office as
"president-for-life" in 1971. These policies were designed to turn the
country into the kind of place international investors tend to like;
Haitians soon started to refer to them as the "death plan".
This plan has stifled public spending and forced the privatisation of
Haiti's (often highly lucrative) public assets, while accelerating the
reorientation of the country's economy away from agrarian autonomy and
towards urban hyperexploitation. The case of rice production -- the
staple food for most of the population -- is especially significant.
In the mid-1980s, local farmers were still able to produce almost all
the rice Haitians consumed, but the last tariffs protecting Haitian
farmers were removed in the mid-1990s and imports now account for
two-thirds of consumption. Domestic production is now further undercut
by the vast amounts of additional "free" rice that are dumped on Haiti
every year through the ministry of USAID grantees, in particular the
Baptist, Seventh-Day Adventist and other like-minded churches.
Increases in the garment and light manufacturing sector were supposed
to compensate for agricultural collapse. For a while, the lowest wages
in the hemisphere encouraged mainly American companies or contractors
to employ roughly 80,000 people in this area, while military and
paramilitary coercion kept the threat of organised labour safely at
bay.
By the end of the 1990s, however, a combination of international
competition and local "instability" had reduced the number of people
employed in sweatshops to barely 20,000, and their wages (averaging $2
a day) had fallen to less than 20 per cent of 1980 levels.
Bitter experience has forced the Haitian poor to improvise robust ways
of defending themselves against their oppressors.
Over the course of the 1980s, opposition to both Duvalierist
repression and neoliberal economic policies inspired a powerful
popular mobilisation.
This was able first to "uproot" Duvalier fils and his Macoutes in 1986
and then, in 1990, after an army crackdown that killed another
thousand people or so, to overcome direct military rule.
It forced the army's international backers reluctantly to sanction
Haiti's first ever round of genuine democratic elections, which in
early 1991 brought the liberation theologian Aristide to power on an
anti-capitalist, anti-army agenda.
Haiti was the first country in Latin America to dare choose a
liberation theologian as its president (twice), and this is a crucial
but often neglected aspect of its recent history.
The Catholic Church had long been a solid pillar of the status quo,
and its partial conversion in the 1970s into a well-organised vehicle
for the "self-emancipation of the oppressed" reverberated throughout
the region.
Pentagon officials were quick to realise, as one American military
figure put it, that "the most serious threat to US interests was not
secular Marxist-Leninism or organised labour, but liberation
theology".
Pope Jean-Paul II and his successor, Joseph Ratzinger, reached the
same conclusion as their American counterparts on the religious right.
Thirty years ago, in Haiti, there was only a tiny handful of small
evangelical churches preaching political resignation and passive
reliance on God's grace; today there are more than 500 of them.
Yet Aristide's election in 1990 changed the balance of power in Haiti
for ever. Political violence came to an abrupt and exceptional stop.
"We have become the subjects of our own history," Aristide said, a
couple of years before his election, and "we refuse from now on to be
the objects of that history".
Grotesque inequalities
That refusal remains the key to understanding the course of Haitian
politics ever since. Haiti isn't only the most impoverished country in
the western hemisphere; it is now also the most unequal in terms of
its division of wealth and power. A tiny minority lives in paranoid
luxury, surrounded by millions of the poorest people on earth. From
the perspective of its elite, Haiti's main political problem is very
simple: how, once the door to democracy has been prised open, might it
be possible to preserve such a grotesquely inequitable distribution of
property and privilege?
When Aristide was first elected, it was still possible to solve the
problem in the usual way, by slamming the door shut. In September
1991, another US-backed military coup cut short Haiti's "transition to
democracy". When the US eventually allowed a hamstrung Aristide to
return in late 1994, he still managed to transform Haitian politics
overnight, by abolishing the army that had deposed him.
A central priority for the businessmen and sweatshop owners whose
interests were previously protected by the army has, understandably,
been to restore or replace it. The need to do so became still more
acute when Aristide was re-elected in 2000 with an even bigger share
of the vote, backed up for the first time by a political organisation,
Fanmi Lavalas, which won roughly 90 per cent of the seats in
parliament.
The subsequent ten years of struggle in Haiti are best understood in
terms of this basic alternative: Lavalas or the army. As the conflicts
of the past decade confirm, there is no better way for political
elites to deflect awkward questions than by redefining them in terms
of crime, security and stability -- terms, in other words, that allow
soldiers rather than people to resolve them.
Ruthless application of this strategy after the Lavalas election
victory in 2000 led to the internationally sponsored coup of early
2004, just in time to squash any celebration of the bicentenary of
Haitian independence. Since they could no longer rely on Haiti's own
army, in order to overthrow a duly elected government for the second
time, US troops were obliged to lever Aristide out of Port-au-Prince
themselves.
In mid-2004, a large United Nations "stabilisation" force took over
the job of pacifying a resentful population from soldiers sent by the
US, France and Canada, and by the end of 2006 another several thousand
of Aristide's supporters were dead.
Under pressure
Last year, the current president, René Préval, who ostensibly governs
this UN protectorate, agreed to renew its stabilisation mandate, to
persevere with the privatisation of Haiti's remaining public assets,
to veto a proposal to increase the minimum wage to $5 a day, and to
bar Fanmi Lavalas, along with several other political parties, from
participating in the next round of legislative elections.
The decision taken by US and UN commanders in charge of the disaster
relief effort, to prioritise military and security objectives over
civilian-humanitarian ones, has already caused tens of thousands of
preventable deaths. Plane after plane packed with essential emergency
supplies was diverted away from the disaster zone, in order to allow
for the build-up of a huge and entirely unnecessary US military force.
Many thousands of people were left to die in the ruins of lower
Port-au-Prince, while international rescue teams concentrated their
efforts on a few locations (such as the Montana Hotel or the UN
headquarters) that could also be enclosed within a "secure perimeter".
For the same reason, throughout the first week of the disaster,
desperately needed medical supplies were reserved for field hospitals
set up near the US-controlled airport and other "secure zones".
Hospitals in "insecure" Port-au-Prince itself, overwhelmed with dying
patients, have had to perform untold numbers of amputations without
anaesthetic or medication. Still more "insecure" areas such as
Carrefour and Léogane -- the places closest to the earthquake's
epicentre -- received no significant aid for at least ten days after
the disaster struck.
Unless prevented by renewed popular mobilisation in both Haiti and
beyond, the perverse international emphasis on security will continue
to distort the reconstruction effort, and with it the configuration of
Haitian politics for some time to come. As reconstruction funds
accumulate, pressure to expropriate what remains of Haiti's public
services and collectively owned land is sure to be accompanied by
pressure to speed up the growth of Haiti's booming security industry,
and perhaps to restore -- no doubt in close co-operation with the
current occupying power -- the army that Aristide managed to
demobilise in 1995.
What is already certain is that if further militarisation proceeds
unchecked, the victims of the January earthquake won't be the only
avoidable casualties of 2010.
Peter Hallward teaches philosophy at Middlesex University and is the
author of "Damming the Flood: Haiti, Aristide and the Politics of
Containment"