Instead, of course, 2004 was the year of the overthrow of Haiti's president Jean-Bertrand Aristide, which triggered a new moment of political conflict and violence in Haiti. It was a remarkable year, both within the historical profession - for several months, the scattered group of us who worked on Haiti suddenly saw one another nearly every week, and shared and pushed forward our collective projects - and for Haiti itself.
I had the good fortune during that year to meet Jean Casimir, who arranged for Avengers to be published in Haiti. This past May, when I visited for the release of the book, I was reminded of the way that Haiti constantly challenges the stories, categories, and certainties that govern so much thinking and talk about the current global order. While some consider Haiti to be trapped in the past, a historian of the Atlantic world might argue that, since the eighteenth century, there has been no place more "modern" than Haiti. A thriving plantation colony, covered with technologically advanced sugar processing machinery, populated by exiled and brutalized workers, Haiti's plantation system helped to produce France and Europe, not to mention North America. A nation born of slave revolution, it was a foundational pioneer in expanding and concretizing the language of universal rights, outrunning the American and French Revolutions by insisting that if all are born free and equal than none should be a slave. Haiti was never outside of "modernity," but rather at the center of it all.
What the Haitian Revolution represented, more than anything, was a refusal, on the part of the most brutalized victims of the nascent world order, to be human capital. Of course, it quickly contained, and the colonial order was never fully defeated, for it shaped both Haiti's struggle for diplomatic recognition and helped produced some of the competing visions of freedom and autonomy that have shaped the nation's history ever since. But if the promise of that revolution has never been completely fulfilled, it remains a powerful beacon of what is possible when people insist on their right to free.
Today, in a country born two hundred years ago out of the defeat of the armies of the Spanish, English and then French empires, you might find yourself in traffic jams populated largely, it seemed, by the trucks of the United Nations and NGOs. Jean Casimir jokes that living in the country has pushed him to imagine a new index of "under-development": experts per inhabitant. By this measure, Haiti might well be the world leader. There was, already in May, a number of projects underway that were carried out by deeply committed individuals from around the world. Now, in the wake of the devastating earthquake of January 12, 2010, a new wave of aid has commenced . In the next months, indeed years, a massive wave of intervention and assistance will land in Haiti. What will it produce? Where will it end?
For much of the 20th century, particularly since the time of the United States Occupation from 1915-1934, outsiders have been working hard to "repair" Haiti. They have done so in many ways, and with heavy involvement and collaboration from a range of actors in different parts of the society. Whether the sentiment is accurate or not, many people conclude that these efforts have been largely fruitless, or worse: that they have in many cases actually deepened economic and political difficulties in Haiti. The country, you might even say, has consistently deconstructed various certainties about "development," though the response is often simply to conclude that Haiti is a hopeless case, an incurable patient.
I have great admiration and respect for the work of a range of groups committed to improving quality access to core social institutions in Haiti. At the same time, I sometimes worry about what these powerful commitments to change and progress lead us to believe about Haiti. On a recent flights, I sat next to a first-time visitor headed to her first mission trip, who exclaimed: "My god, there are trees!" She had been told that the island was entirely deforested, and had seen the famous pictures of barren land on the border between the Dominican Rebublic and Haiti. That, above Port-au-Prince, there are misty and forested hills with beautiful terraced gardens producing food for the city, might surprise many outsiders.
I often find myself, perhaps oddly, advocating for a more banal analysis of the country, one which allows for its diversity of experience, its ups and downs, its simultaneous capacity for absurdity and corruption, and for grace and brilliance. I occasionally have to tell my students as a counter-point the newspaper articles about political killings and people eating mud pies, people in Haiti don't usually wake up in the morning screaming: "Oh my God, I'm in Haiti!" They get up, say good morning, and enter the day. If too many do so burdened with hunger or sickness or want, they also do so with whatever mix of hope, fear, and faith that many people carry with them. What is striking about talking about Haiti is that one actually does have to remind people that this is, in fact, just a place, with people who work, eat, sleep, and dream, like us.
That said, it is of course a very special place. It has a complex and layered history, multi-national in both form and content, full of contradictions and uncertainties. A friend whose family lives in Martissant told me that even as news channels around the world trafficked in images of aid workers arriving to assist Haitians in desperate circumstances in the days following the January 12th earthquake, his mother didn't even know that any foreigners had landed in Haiti. No aid workers of any kind had surfaced in her neighborhood. People were finding their own ways of dealing with the catastrophe, drawing on their own forms of organization and solidarity. This raises one question, above all others, for us to ponder in the weeks to come. How will these diverse aims and organizations interact. Will they meet, dialogue, and come to an understanding? Will they ignore one another? Will they come into conflict? If so, how?
What we all need to do now, those of us who are or hope to be involved in Haiti in one way or another, is to stop and think--and think hard. We have to try, in the midst of the shock, horror, and devastation we feel, to find a space of reflection that might allow us to figure out what it means to think, and therefore act, with Haiti, rather than simply on its behalf.
Laurent Dubois is Professor of History and Romance Studies at Duke University, and author of Avengers of the New World: The Story of the Haitian Revolution (2004). He has recently completed Soccer Empire: The World Cup and the Future of France, which will be published this Spring by University of California Press.
Thanks for raising some important points. I appreciate the call for injecting banality into the discourse on Haiti. Framing Haiti as uniquely special, mystical, problematic, etc. only maintains around it an aura of mystery, casting it as "untouchable," as it were. I also was struck by your questions about how aid organizations will interact with each other in times to come. Within days of the earthquake I had heard a number of medical organizations make claims to have been "the first on the ground," and the competitive overtones of such claims really struck me as odd.
Thank you for this post. It's interesting to hear a scholar who has significant insight into the social history of Haiti to advocate for "reflection" when so many others seem to be acting first and asking questions later.
I wonder if this is a common reaction by scholars when an underdeveloped nation is suddenly flooded with attention and resources. Or is it the unique historic, social, and economic conditions that should give pause to well meaning benefactors?
I suppose it's a common response that when disaster strikes another country, especially an underdeveloped one, there is suddenly a swell of support. On one hand, it's a positive feeling to see people willing to help in a variety of ways, but at the risk of sounding cynical, why doesn't this support happen earlier? Even more cynical, if groups have been working to "repair" Haiti since the US occupation, and it continues to be in such a state, how effective is the aid coming from developed nations? And is fixing this simply a question of scale, meaning with more aid then things will change, or are we missing something about how to effectively administer aid? If we are missing something, then adding more won't be as effective as it's hoped it be. Considering these questions, I think the call to "find a space of reflection" is a valid one. More importantly, I believe that individuals with significant knowledge of the social history of Haiti should lead this time of reflection through dialogue. Hopefully, a more contextual understanding of Haiti will help us understand how to best distribute aid there. Lessons from this type of dialogue might even lead to greater understanding about the interactions between underdeveloped and developed nations, particularly in times of need.
i believe this is a very powerful piece. i enjoy the ways in which the author explores the previous state of Haiti to better understand the shift in being considered the leader of modernity in the early 19th century to being considered the opponent of modern in today's world. Dubois writes that "Haiti was never outside of 'modernity', but rather at the center of it all"; however, especially after a disaster, how can Haiti find itself at the center of modernity through all its rubble?
although there has been an impressive international concern about the country and its inhabitants, not even a month after the earthquake, Haiti has in many ways drifted into the background. Yes intervention and assistance has been provided directly after the earth shook, however where is that necessary aid today? has it already ended? I watch the news and find that CNN is probably the only broadcasting station that still follows what is going on in the country. in such cases, it is difficult for me not to think that the whole "Help Haiti" phenomenon which took place a week ago was merely a fashion statement until the next trend comes along.
the author's massage is not only powerful but instructive as well. though there is this feeling that we need to help Haiti, it is essential to first know what areas Haiti needs help in. Thinking with Haiti and not for Haiti not only humanizes the people but gives them a voice as well.
Laurent Dubois did an excellent job writing about Haiti, which the media and history in North America did not fully offer in its entirety to the public. Dubois brings an interesting point about the people inundating Haiti trying to provide "help" and "assistance" to a country, which is already well established. I think it's imperative to note the metropolitan influence that occurred for the Haitian people after their revolution over 200 years ago, and it's simply not a country known for mystery, voodo, and forestry.
Dubois captured the essence that seems to set Haiti into a category of its own for most Americans. Known as one of the poorest countries of the world, American's understanding of Haiti, more specifically before the Earthquake of 2010, is one of mysticism and poverty. As Dubois brilliantly points out, the people living in Haiti are not all starving on the streets and many go about their lives going to work, feeding their family and taking part in cultural traditions as does the rest of the world.
Two summers ago I traveled to the Dominican Republic and spent some time very close to the Haitian border. While trying to understand the relationship between Dominicans and Haitians (in my limited Spanish that is), the Dominicans were quick to convey their superiority. Yet upon further discussion, many could not specify anything about Haiti's culture or ways. Their knowledge was limited to only the Dominican's financial superiority. From this interaction, I was moved to learn more about Haiti.
I am currently reading Dubois's book, "Avenger's of the New World," and rapidly learning the complex history that shapes this complex people. The stigma that seems to encompass Haiti must be vanquished to understand this culture as unique, but also much more similar to you and I than we think.
A banal analysis of Haiti is necessary to balance the plethora of literature on Haiti's corruption, its treacherous and triumphant past, as well as the beauty and mystery of Haitian culture. This is true of many African cultures as well. As another commenter, Fabienne Doucet, suggested, societies viewed as extremely problematic and/or uniquely, incredibly, and mysteriously magnificent are cast as "untouchable." This image of these societies makes it difficult for the outside world to relate to them--it detracts from their humanity. As Dubois said, Haiti is "just a place, with people who work, eat sleep, and dream, like us." Efficient aid relies on a strong understanding of the Haitian culture and an ability to communicate well with the Haitian people. An "untouchable" slant on a culture prevents aid efficiency. Lack of communication between service organizations and the Haitian community as well as a failure to consolidate resources has led to "dead aid."
Laurent Dubois' essay brings to mind many similarities between the state of Haiti and the history of Africa. Both regions have experienced conquest, slavery, rebellion, and severe imperialism. Dubois writes, "Haiti was never outside of "modernity," but rather at the center of it all." The present view of Haiti gives no acknowledgement of its successes, which is similar to the view of Africa. The academic and technological prosperity of these regions has been severely undermined by attitudes of supremacy on the part of other nations. To believe that Haiti is a "hopeless case," a judgment that many have passed on Africa as well, only perpetuates the idea that the people of those lands will always fail, will always be incapable of prosperity. In these cases, I find myself agreeing with those scholars who hold that Africa was pure, civilized, and flourishing before "outsiders" came to their lands. I think the same position may be taken with Haiti. Many groups, governments, and organizations claim that their efforts foster the prosperity of places like Haiti and countries in Africa; nevertheless, these nations do not progress. These methods of "aid" must be reevaluated.
The city of New Orleans also comes to mind as it is another region that experienced great tragedy. Dubois asks of Haiti, "In the next months, indeed years, a massive wave of intervention and assistance will land in Haiti. What will it produce? Where will it end? I feel as though the same question can be asked of New Orleans. How much of the "aid" bestowed upon them has produced positive change? When did people stop caring about New Orleans and how did the generous attitude disappear?
I think the emphasis on the complexity of Haiti, and ultimately the "normalness" of its people, is desperately needed. Especially now that Haiti is being talked about with such fervor, the identities of the Haitian people can get distorted in the layers upon layers of discourse. I think Haitians become something separate and consequently objectified when we are acting "for" someone and not "with them," as Mr. Dubois pointed out.