Haiti's Democratic Birthpangs

An old Haitian peasant recently walked into the jail house in his rural community and began berating the military officer in charge, waving a book at him. The book, received from a human rights organization based in Port-au-Prince, explained in simple language the old man's rights under Haiti's new constitution. Armed with this knowledge against the guns of the local military thugs, the old man insisted that a friend was being illegally held. Perhaps out of shock, the soldiers actually released the friend.

It is the democratic spirit embodied in the old peasant that has been under siege in Haiti since the 1991 military coup that ousted President Jean-Bertrand Aristide, the country's first democratically elected leader. The story provides a glimpse of what is hopeful about Haiti today -- the power of knowledge and organization, the willingness of hundreds of thousands of Haitians to act to build democracy, the impotence of the military behind their mask of violence. "We have tasted democracy for seven months under Aristide," one Haitian explained to me on a recent visit there, "and the sweet taste still lingers in our mouths."

One can almost see Haiti molting, struggling to burst free of the shell of repression, violence, and corruption that has stunted its growth for so long. Haiti is giving birth to its democratic self. The question today is: Can Haiti survive this painful birth, or will it perish in the process?

The Haitian military is a "mafia" occupying and bleeding the country. In order to appear less brutal to the international community, much of the official violence is carried out by armed, plain-clothed military "attaches." The profit-making side of the operation is drug-running to the United States (at an estimated value of $1-2 billion a year), dealing in contraband, and the traditional extortion of the poor population. Economic and community development initiatives are squelched by corruption and violence.

Seeking international legitimacy, the Haitian army has a dilemma. It has no reason to exist, since Haiti faces no foreign threats. The military's fundamental role is self-preservation; the main threats are the Haitian people and democracy.

So what makes Haiti hopeful? What can a crazy old man do against these forces? Alone, nothing. But together with millions of other Haitians he is a part of the political wave called Lavalas ("the cleansing flood") that swept Aristide into the presidency with more than 67 percent of the vote. The democratic movement is broad and strong. Peasants, students, workers, and the ti legliz, the liberation theology wing of the church, lead the way. Haiti's democratic flood is peaceful and unarmed, and the military is currently attempting to brutally atomize it into a million drops to be reabsorbed into the country's parched soil. But floods are hard to manage.

THE CLINTON administration is finding this out as well. When the military ousted Aristide, Bush formulated a three-pronged policy that Clinton inherited: contain the refugee problem, talk about the importance of restoring democracy, and stall until Aristide's term expires. Focused on the domestic agenda in his first months, Clinton has been slow to implement a clear, new policy toward Haiti. Bush hold-over Bernard Aronson lingered as assistant secretary of state for inter-American affairs. With great latitude in maneuvering policy, Aronson continued to delay a strong response to military intransigence.

Clinton avoided a wave of Haitian refugees in his first weeks in office -- and kept the issue off the front pages -- by setting up a Coast Guard blockade of the island and by returning people to Haiti without any asylum hearings. In addition to reversing a campaign promise, this policy had been ruled illegal by a lower U.S. court. The case reached the Supreme Court on March 2, where lawyers for the administration claimed that under unusual circumstances the president could ignore refugee laws. The New York Times editorialized that this was the "same Haiti policy, still illegal."

In the absence of a clear new direction from Clinton, outdated Cold War instincts still seem to guide U.S. foreign policy. The irony is that of the many difficult foreign policy quagmires around the globe, Haiti is probably the easiest to deal with. Most informed observers agree that an enforced oil embargo would bring about quick movement toward the restoration of the constitutional government and allow Clinton a foreign policy victory.

The wild cards are the Haitian people and the U.S. people, who in many ways are just getting to know one another better. Washington seems to underestimate the power and tenacity of Haiti's democratic movement. Hopes that a superficial political solution and a flood of economic aid will diffuse the situation are misplaced. If Aristide is not returned with his constitutional powers, the Haitian people will find another avenue to democracy.

At the same time, the U.S. people are beginning to generate the kind of awareness and activism around Haiti that characterized the Central America debate in the 1980s. Delegations are traveling to Haiti to see for themselves and provide a little breathing room for besieged Haitians. Barriers of language, culture, and race are being overcome. Educational materials are multiplying. Demonstrations, religious events, and political pressure are on the rise.

Can the Haitians and the people of the United States together push the issue to the front burner, replacing archaic Cold War fears with fresh opportunities for freedom and justice? The answer to this question will largely determine how, and if, Haiti survives the birthing of its democracy.

Democratically elected President Jean-Bertrand Aristide has been in exile since 1991. Steve Brescia worked in the international liaison office for the exiled president when this article appeared.