Forgotten Wars and Treaties, Volume 13 #6

HAITI
Hopes for Democracy Rest on Police

Haiti in 1995 has not yet declared itself. Is it a time of change, fresh possibilities, opportunities, precious second chances? Or a time of repetition, sameness, refusal to change, and clinging to old familiar ways? It clearly contains elements of both. The eyes of the world, and those of Haitians themselves, are watching and wondering, waiting to see which way Haiti will go.

The result is an atmosphere charged with anticipation -- outward calm, but nervousness just below the surface. Questions fill the air. Will President Jean-Bertrand Aristide step down from office in February as the constitution says he must? Will the masses, who revere him as a messiah, allow him to? Will the right-wing elements who ruled during the military coup from 1991 to 1994 attempt another takeover? Will civil war break out between the members of the former army (now being dismantled under international supervision) and the supporters of Aristide, between the elite and the masses? Will the UN extend its mandate beyond the February 1996 deadline? Will "all hell break loose" once the UN forces pull out? Or will Haiti stumble along haltingly but doggedly on a slow, rough road to democracy as other countries have? Many questions but no answers.

Haiti has long been a country of extremes. Perhaps that is why so many expect an extreme response to the major events scheduled to happen here early in 1996. The country's history is defined by the outer limits: the most and the least, the best and the worst, the richest and the poorest.

Four hundred years ago, the French considered Haiti the most beautiful of all the Caribbean islands, the "Pearl of the Antilles." It became the most prosperous colony in the New World--and the most brutal. The Spanish wiped out the original Arawak inhabitants within fifty years; the French who took over from them found it more economical to work their African slaves to death and import more than to allow them to live and have children who would grow up and work. Haiti was also the first slave colony to gain independence as a sovereign nation, and the only one to achieve that status through a successful slave revolt. In this century it has become known for being the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, with a tiny elite that has made its mark as the least caring for its country and the majority of its people.

Much about the way the country has operated since colonial days is still current. White privilege, for example, is alive and well in Haiti, something I had not expected to find in this fiercely proud black republic. My white skin earns me automatic deference and credibility. It marks me as a foreigner and therefore someone who has money, which in turn entitles me to power and privilege. And despite Papa Doc Duvalier's pro-black philosophy and policies, class divisions in Haiti still appear to coincide closely with colour divisions--white, mulatto, black. I make this assertion based on everyday observations of who rides in cars and who walks, who shops in the supermarket and who does not, who has others to fetch and carry for them and who fetches and carries.

Now the entire population is putting its faith in a new independent, civilian, professional police force, the cornerstone of Haiti's hopes for democracy. In the past, Haiti's "police" were members of the army and the dreaded paramilitary forces--Papa Doc's tontons macoutes and more recently the attachés. Far from respecting the law, these thugs created it according to their own whims. They were the law, and they ruled through fear and intimidation, using extortion, theft and torture as their tools.

The new Haitian National Police agents are young and have no previous military experience. About 5 per cent of them are women, presenting yet another brand new phenomenon in Haiti. They are well-intentioned and highly motivated. While many if not most are fresh from school, a good number of them have experience in teaching, journalism, medicine, engineering and various trades. A few have returned recently to Haiti from Canada. Many of them suffered personally or through the experiences of close friends and family members under the previous regime, and they are eager to help bring about positive changes for their country.

The four-month basic training program for police recruits (to which the Royal Canadian Mounted Police has been a contributor) carries a strong emphasis on human rights and human dignity. As they march between their dormitories, classes and the cafeteria, the cadets sing stirring patriotic songs. I never cease to be moved and reinvigorated by these declarations of a new police that will respect the law and the rights of citizens and uphold democracy. I am always particularly struck by hearing "We Shall Overcome" sung in Creole by these young Haitian police cadets--intrigued by their choice of a song that was made famous by civil rights marchers in the United States who sang it steadfastly in the face of the police who brutalized them.

The song is nevertheless appropriate, because in Haiti the police too are freedom fighters, they too are prepared to risk their lives for democracy, and they too have enormous hurdles and obstacles to overcome. When they leave the Training Centre to begin work in the field, they go to stations with no running water, electricity or proper toilet facilities. They work with severe shortages of everything from vehicles to radios to basic office supplies to uniforms. They join a brand new organization whose rules and regulations, procedures and directives are still being written, whose supervisors are being trained at the same time as the rank and file. If they can remember their mission, if they can maintain their drive and desire to participate in the effort to change things for the better, if they can keep their faith that change is possible, then perhaps it will be.

The new police have already shown some extremely positive signs. For example, a major trial is taking place in the town of Gonaives, the site of a horrendous massacre in April 1994. The leaders and masterminds of the incident are now on trial. The new police agents, some of whom may have been victims of the massacre either directly or indirectly, all of whom graduated less than four months ago, have used careful planning and professional crowd control methods to calm and contain what could have been a vengeful and violent mob. In this way, they have assured the safe transfer of the prisoners from the police station to the courthouse. This is an important example of democracy in action.

In a smaller but nonetheless significant symbol of democratic law taking hold, one of my former students gave me a ticket recently for obstructing traffic. He was a bit clumsy in technique but the message was clear, both to me and to the several hundred people who happened to be in the vicinity: the law applies to all and Haiti's new national police will apply it to all. Although I didn't appreciate the embarrassment, inconvenience or expense of the ticket, I was proud of the agent's courage and determination to carry out what he has been taught. In a country that is on the threshold of something so new and so different, where people are not yet sure which way things will go, every act is symbolic, and every symbol carries tremendous weight. That agent now knows that he can apply the law to someone who would have previously been exempted, the people who witnessed the incident and those they told also know, and I am careful to pull well over to the side before stopping to pick someone up.

With continued faith and determination, the new Haitian police and the Haitian people can and will overcome--hopefully someday soon.

Susan Joanis is currently working on a one-year contract with the police training program in Haiti. She is on leave from her position with the Ontario Human Rights Commission in Toronto.