Democracy and Violence "The constitution is made ofpaper, but the bayonet is made of steel. " (Haitian proverb) HAITI'S DILEMMA REVEALS THE STRENGTHS and limitations of constitutional democracy in a soci- ety rent by class war. Is democracy capable of disarming a brutal oligarchy and its hired guns? The answer may be yes, but not without a fight. Ten days after the September 30 military coup that toppled President Jean-Bertrand Aristide, Haiti's ambassa- dor to the United Nations, Fritz Longchamp, was optimistic. "It is a matter of weeks," he told me, citing the OAS embargo, his country's extreme dependence on imported oil, and especially the United States' firm stance that Father Aristide be returned to power. As we go to press, however, Haiti remains at a standoff. A parliamentary clique of old-time politicians maintains a titular hold on the reins of power, while soldiers and ex- Tontons Macoutes sow terror among the poor. Despite the embargo, contraband appears to be flowing across the Do- minican-Haitian border, and a tanker filled with Shell oil arrived from the Dutch colony of Aruba at the end of November. The elite that stands behind the coup does its shopping in Miami anyway. The political class, led by provisional prime minister Jean-Jacques Honorat, is banking on a series of legalistic machinations to make the coup appear to be a constitutional effort to defend democracy. The key is to smear Father Aristide by pointing to his alleged disregard for parliament's role in government, and especially by highlighting state- ments in which he appears to have been tolerant of the "necklacing" of political opponents. [See articles this issue.] U.S. Ambassador Alvin P. Adams has lent a hand, despite the official U.S. stance in favor of Aristide's return. He has worked tirelessly to steer journalists and visiting OAS del- egations toward Aristide's conservative critics--politicians who garnered minimal support at the polls. Adams is what Latin Americans call an "embajador de choque"-a "shock troop" ambassador-who began his career with U.S.AID in Vietnam and, before going to Haiti, had climbed to the number two spot in the State Department's counter-terrorism office. Schooled in the old pro-consul style, he has never hesitated to meddle in Haiti's internal affairs. Few believe, however, that Adams or the United States were behind the coup. He may have pulled an April Glaspie, signaling that Washington would look the other way, but the planners and perpetrators were clearly Haiti's old guard elite: the oligarchic families and their allies among the brass, who were terrified not so much of Aristide's policies (which by and large were quite moderate) but of the masses of poor to whom Aristide and his Lavalas movement gave voice and vote. T WENTY-FIVE PEOPLE, NEARLY ALL OF THEM Tontons Macoutes, were actually "necklaced" during Aristide's seven-month tenure, and no one claims the killings were carried out on the orders of the president or his govern- ment. Since the coup, on the other hand, the Inter-American Human Rights Commission estimates 1,500 have died; the de facto regime admits to 100 deaths; and Honorat's AID- funded CHADEL human rights group puts the number at 200. This comparison by no means excuses the brutality exercised by the aggrieved poor. But if their actions are to be considered justification for the coup, the scale acquires significance. In his classic work on the Haitian Revolution, The Black Jacobins, C.L.R. James wrote: "The cruelties of property and privilege are always more ferocious than the revenges of poverty and oppression. For the one aims at perpetuating resented injustice, the other is merely a momentary passion soon appeased." Such an assessment is contrary to the universalizing philosophy which underlies established con- ceptions of human rights: murder is murder regardless of the identities of the victim or the perpetrator. But it points to a larger social reality that human rights numbers-crunching fails to take into account. Political democracy is only possible when the contending classes in society accept it as a legitimate mechanism to resolve their differences. In a country such as Haiti, charac- terized by islands of opulence in a sea of misery (5% of the population owns 50% of the wealth), democracy can only emerge when the rich become convinced they should or can no longer impose their will by force. Aristide did muster the support of a fair number of wealthy Haitians. One of them, coffee exporter Arlette Batiste, told the Los Angeles Times in April, "It's time for us to go with the majority, for our own interests, if nothing else....This man is our last chance." The periodic violent attacks on ex-Tontons Macoutes had much to do with bringing people around to this view, as did the mass violence that snuffed out the January 6 attempted coup before Aristide's inauguration. The threat of more violence-always latent, infrequently employed-allowed him to take office and remain there for as long as he did. Aristide's now-famous call for "popular vigilance" was made when he was under direct threat of assassination, and only days before the coup. URING THIS YEAR, THE TWO-HUNDREDTH anniversary of the Boukman uprising that launched the Haitian revolution, we would do well to recall our debt to Haiti's valiant past. The "revenges of poverty and oppres- sion" that the revolution entailed put fear in the hearts of the planters of the U.S. South, and convinced England and the United States to end the slave trade. The revolution forced Napoleon to unload Louisiana for a song. And revolutionary leader Alexandre Pdtion's material support was essential to the ultimate success of Sim6n Bolivar's quest to win Ameri- can independence. Haitians paid dearly for the lesson they taught the world in 1791-1804. France exacted $150 mil- lion in reparations; a U.S. embargo lasted over half a century. Since 1985, Haitians have offered us another lesson in the politics of mass anger. Official violence may postpone the emergence of the poor on the national political stage, but it cannot prevent it, and will only ensure that the process grow ever bloodier. Unless the international community stands firm in demanding that Aristide be restored to office, the "necklacing," sadly to say, will have only begun.
