Worst of Neighbors

For its size, the island of Hispaniola--where Christopher Columbus landed in 1492--can match its violent past and present with just about any place, including Cuba, the island next door. One end of the island of Hispaniola just got rid of the bloody 31-year dictatorship of the Trujillos in 1961. The other end is subjected to the increasingly whimsical violence of Haiti's Dictator Franc,ois Duvalier.

In Haiti's capital of Port-au-Prince, Duvalier's palace guards burst into the Dominican embassy in search of 22 anti-government Haitians, including several army officers, who had sought asylum there. They ransacked two floors without finding the men (who were hiding in the embassy residence at the edge of town), then threatened a secretary and departed, posting a guard around the building to interrogate all who tried to leave or enter. "An invasion of our country," cried Dominican President Juan Bosch. The Dominican navy (such as it is) put to sea, tanks clanked toward the border, and Bosch fired off an ultimatum to Duvalier--24 hours to call off the goons, or else.

Blood at the Border. Negro Haiti and the Spanish-speaking Dominican Republic are the worst of neighbors even in the best of times. In the early 1800s, the sport of Haitian rulers was slaughtering Dominicans; in the 1930s, Dominican Dictator Rafael Trujillo methodically killed some 15,000 Haitian squatters on his land. Now Duvalier is getting in his licks. Dominican nationals in Haiti have been-jailed and savagely beaten; others have disappeared without a trace. One Dominican diplomat was murdered. The Haitian border has been closed to Dominicans for months, and there are persistent reports that members of the Trujillo clan are plotting with Duvalier to assassinate the newly elected Bosch. "There is a conspiracy in Haiti against our democratic government," warned Bosch last week. "We have suffered with great patience, but these outrages must end--now."

At the talk, the OAS in Washington hurriedly flew a five-nation investigating team to the island. But in their one brief meeting with Haiti's dictator, Duvalier insisted on jabbering in Creole; the OAS team scarcely understood his words. Only under pressure did he agree to remove his guards from the Dominican embassy and grant safe-conduct out of the country for 15 of the Haitian asylees. Nothing would budge him on the other seven, who were moved to the Colombian embassy, and there were no promises about what would happen when the OAS team departed.

Over the Horizon. Through it all, the U.S., which has long since cut off all aid to Haiti to show its displeasure, sought to maintain a hands-off attitude and refused even to participate in the OAS fact-finding mission. But the U.S. finds it harder and harder to ignore Duvalier. A noise bomb exploded in front of the U.S. embassy; the wife of a U.S. Marine sergeant was hauled into a police station for 2 1/2 hours of questioning; Robert Hill, embassy first secretary, was stopped and searched at gunpoint by Duvalier's Tonton Macoute, a kind of disorderly people's thuggery. Three times during the week, U.S. Ambassador Raymond L. Thurston protested to the Haitian government. Just over the horizon stood a U.S. Navy task force, and marines aboard the aircraft carrier Boxer were prepared to land, if necessary, to save the lives of 1,000 U.S. citizens in Haiti. The situation, said Washington, is "delicate and dark."

To an obedient crowd of 10,000, mostly ragged peasants trucked into the capital to hear the man who calls himself "Papa Doc," Duvalier declared: "I am the personification of the Haitian nation. I will keep power. God is the only one who can take it from me."

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