Haiti Living with A Nightmare

By Jill Smolowe

Word had gone out that the memorial service for the 17 victims of a savage election-day attack on a schoolhouse in downtown Port-au-Prince was set for 9 a.m. But when the hour tolled, the Basilica Notre Dame was empty, and churchworkers began locking up the faded pink-and-yellow cathedral. The attendants nervously explained that the service had been canceled "because of rain." On the steps of the cathedral, a 79-year-old man squinted at the light drizzle. "People are too scared," he whispered. "It is still too soon."

Less than two weeks after a bloody rampage by soldiers and armed thugs made a farce of the country's attempt at a democratic transition, the people of Haiti were still in shock. Efforts foundered to forge a united opposition to the three-man provisional government headed by Lieut. General Henri Namphy. The four leading presidential candidates supported calls for general strikes last week, but their goals initially differed. Some aimed to dissolve the government, while others demanded reinstatement of a nine-member independent electoral council disbanded by Namphy. By week's end all four agreed to call on the junta to resign. Meanwhile, many Haitians worried about the adverse financial consequences of a protracted strike. The result: two days of spotty protests that were in stark contrast to last June's successful strikes, which foiled Namphy's attempt to wrest control of the country's voting process from the electoral council. Said a factory worker locked out of his job: "The only way to strike against these people is with arms."

The failure of the general strike seemed to embolden the army-dominated government. Since the election cancellation, the junta has paraded a stream of Duvalierists before television cameras to denounce the electoral council and American interference. More to the point, the government-owned TV station has repeatedly flashed a message across the screen: I WILL ONLY SURRENDER THIS TOWN WHEN IT IS REDUCED TO ASHES, AND WHEN IT IS REDUCED TO ASHES, I WILL CONTINUE TO FIGHT. The quote is well known, the pledge of an early 19th century Haitian revolutionary leader to fight French colonists. But most Haitians understood the history lesson to be a warning that Namphy's junta would keep attempting to ensure its own survival. Said a Haitian businessman: "No one doubts now that the military is prepared to go to any extreme to retain power."

According to a former Haitian army officer who now lives in Miami, the real strongman is not Namphy, but Colonel Jean-Claude Paul, commander of an infantry battalion that includes more than 700 soldiers and armed civilians. The officer claims that without Paul's cooperation, military and paramilitary forces could not have aborted the balloting. Paul is known to have a close working relationship with Claude Raymond, a former general whose presidential campaign was crushed when the electoral council disqualified twelve candidates, citing the new constitution's widely popular ten-year ban on Duvalierists seeking public office.

Still, Namphy cannot be absolved of responsibility for the election-day carnage. Haitian sources say that at 1:20 a.m., just hours before the polls opened, Namphy drove in a convoy to the National Palace, where he helped oversee the disruptions. Says a Haitian who claims to have witnessed the convoy: "He was in on the planning and execution of the entire scenario."

Certainly, Namphy hardly seems inclined to step down. Since the election, he has made public overtures of friendship to Panamanian General Manuel Antonio Noriega, suggesting that Namphy may be looking to mirror the Panamanian model of a puppet civilian regime controlled by a muscular army. "Military leaders are so bent on retaining power that they want to make sure that whatever civilian comes in will offer them the necessary protection," says a businessman with ties to the military.

Last week the government announced that new elections will be held Jan. 17 and that a new electoral law will be unveiled this week. Already, four of the top presidential candidates have said they will not run in an election so clearly orchestrated by the military. Eliminating independent candidates from the ballot, however, may be precisely what Namphy has in mind.

With reporting by Bernard Diederich/Miami and Cristina Garcia/Port-au-Prince