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http://www.thenational.ae/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20100121/REVIEW/701219960/1008

Securing disaster: The US repeats past mistakes in Haiti

  January 21. 2010
"Most Haitians have seen little humanitarian aid so far," reported an  
Al Jazeera correspondent. "What they have seen is girls." Robert  
Stolarik for The National

The American-led mission in Port-au-Prince, Peter Hallward writes, has  
put military stability before humanitarian needs in a painful echo of  
Haiti’s past.

One week after the devastating earthquake that struck Haiti on January  
12, it’s now clear that the initial phase of the US-led relief  
operation has conformed to the three fundamental tendencies that have  
shaped the more general course of the island’s recent history. It has  
adopted military priorities and strategies. It has sidelined Haiti’s  
government and ignored the needs of the majority of its people. And it  
has proceeded in ways that reinforce the already harrowing gap between  
rich and poor. These three tendencies aren’t just connected, they are  
mutually reinforcing – and they look likely to continue to govern the  
imminent reconstruction effort unless determined political action is  
taken to avoid them.

Haiti is the only country where slaves won their own independence, in  
a war that left a third of the population dead and the economy in  
ruins. Today it is not only one of the poorest countries in the world,  
it is also one of the most polarised and unequal – in terms of wealth  
as well as access to political power. A small clique of rich and well- 
connected families continues to dominate the country and its economy,  
while the vast majority of the population live on less than $2 a day.

Mass destitution has grown far more severe in recent decades. Large  
numbers of small farmers have been driven from their land into densely  
crowded urban slums, thanks in large part to internationally imposed  
“fiscal austerity” measures; a small minority of these internal  
refugees are then lucky enough to find sweatshop jobs that pay the  
lowest wages in the region.

Haiti’s tiny elite has guarded its privileges for decades with  
frequent recourse to violence; for much of the last century, the  
country’s military and paramilitary forces have acted principally  
against the country’s own citizens. When a massive popular  
mobilisation culminated in the landslide election of the liberation  
theologian Jean-Bertrand Aristide as president in 1990, the army  
countered the threat in the time-honoured way, with a coup d’état.  
Over the next three years, the army and its paramilitary auxiliaries  
killed around 4,000 Aristide supporters.

When Aristide returned to power in 1994, he took a decisive and  
unprecedented step: he abolished the army that had deposed him, in  
what one human rights lawyer called “the greatest human rights  
development in Haiti since emancipation.”
More than anything else, what has happened in Haiti since 1990 should  
be understood as the progressive clarification of this basic dichotomy  
– democracy or the army. Unadulterated democracy might one day allow  
the interests of the numerical majority to prevail, and thereby  
challenge the privileges of the elite. After Aristide won a second  
election in 2000, with his party taking 90 per cent of parliamentary  
seats, there was no army to depose him.

Instead, the strategy of the Haiti’s little ruling class has been to  
redefine political questions in terms of “stability” and “security”,  
and in particular the security of property and investments. Mere  
numbers may well win an election, but as everyone knows, only an army  
is equipped to deal with insecurity. The well-armed “friend of Haiti”  
that is the United States knows this better than anyone else.

After his re-election, Aristide’s opponents sought international  
support for the destabilisation of his government, setting the stage  
for paramilitary insurrection and a further coup d’état, and in 2004,  
thousands of US troops again invaded Haiti (as they first did back in  
1915) in order to “restore stability”. An expensive and long-term UN  
“stabilisation mission” staffed by 9,000 heavily armed troops soon  
took over the job of helping to pacify the population; by the end of  
2006, thousands more Aristide supporters had been killed.

A suitably stabilised Haitian government, over the course of 2009,  
agreed to persevere with the privatisation of the country’s remaining  
public assets, veto a proposal to increase minimum wages to $5 a day,  
and to bar Aristide’s political party (and several others) from  
participating in the next round of legislative elections.

When it comes to providing stability, today’s UN troops are clearly a  
big improvement over the old indigenous alternative. If things get so  
unstable that even the ground begins to shake, however, there’s still  
nothing that can beat the world’s leading provider of peace and  
security.

In the immediate aftermath of the earthquake, it seemed hard to  
counter arguments in favour of allowing the US military, with its  
“unrivalled logistical capability”, to take effective control of such  
a massive and complex relief operation.

But in the wake of disaster, the imperatives of stability again won  
out. Military flights have taken priority over humanitarian shipments,  
while US commanders have trumpeted fears of popular unrest as their  
chief concern, despite widespread reports of patience and solidarity  
on the streets.

As many observers predicted, however, the determination of US  
commanders to forestall this risk by privileging guns and soldiers  
over doctors and food has only succeeded in helping to provoke some  
occasional bursts of the very unrest they set out to contain. In order  
to amass a sufficiently large amount of soldiers and military  
equipment “on the ground”, they diverted plane after plane packed with  
emergency supplies. Médecins sans Frontières (MSF) alone has so far  
had to watch at least five planeloads of medical supplies be turned  
back.

While US commanders set about assembling a force of some 10,000  
Marines, residents in some less secure parts of Port-au-Prince soon  
started to run out of food and water. A full five days after the  
quake, the impoverished Port-au-Prince suburb closest to its  
epicentre, the town of Carrefour, hadn’t received any food, aid or  
medical help. “In virtually every area I’ve driven to,” observed the  
BBC’s Mark Doyle on day six, “ordinary people say that I was the first  
foreigner that they’d met.” Al Jazeera’s correspondent summarised what  
other journalists had been saying all week: “Most Haitians have seen  
little humanitarian aid so far. What they have seen is guns, and lots  
of them.”

The US decision to privilege military over humanitarian traffic at the  
airport sealed the fate of many hundreds if not thousands of people  
abandoned in the rubble of lower Port-au-Prince and Léogane. USAID  
announced on January 19 that international search and rescue teams,  
over the course of the first full week after the disaster, had managed  
to save a grand total of 70 people. Much of the international aid  
work, in fact, was confined to places – the UN’s hotel Christophe, the  
Montana Hotel, the Caribe supermarket – that were not only frequented  
by foreigners but that could be snugly enclosed within “secure  
perimeters”.

In their occasional forays outside such secure perimeters, meanwhile,  
many Western journalists seemed able to find plenty of reasons for  
retreating behind them. Lurid stories of looting and gangs soon began  
to lend ‘security experts’ like the London-based Stuart Page an aura  
of apparent authority, when he explained to a gullible BBC ‘security  
correspondent’ that ‘all the security gains made in Haiti in the last  
few years could now be reversed [...]. The criminal gangs, totalling  
some 3000, are going to exploit the current humanitarian crisis, to  
the maximum degree.’

Reporters able to tell the difference between occasional and highly  
localised bursts of foraging and a full-scale “descent into anarchy”  
made much the same point all week, as did dozens of indignant Haitian  
correspondents. Haiti’s Ciné Institute director David Belle, for  
instance, insisted on 17 January that “nothing could be further from  
the truth [than] media stories of looting, violence and chaos [...].  
The dignity and decency of the survivors in the face of this tragedy  
is itself staggering.”

As anyone can see, however, dignity and decency are no substitute for  
security. Within hours of the earthquake most of the panicked staff in  
the US embassy had already been evacuated, and some foreign  
contractors in the garment sector (like the Canadian firm Gildan  
Activewear) announced that they would be shifting production to  
alternative sewing facilities in neighbouring countries. Up in the  
higher, wealthier and mostly undamaged parts of Pétionville, a  
Washington Post reporter observed, local residents already knew that  
their government and business connections will allow them once again  
to pocket the lion’s share of international aid and reconstruction  
money.

This is the fourth time that US troops have landed in Haiti since  
1915. Although each invasion has taken a different form and responded  
to a different pretext, all four have been expressly designed to  
restore ‘stability’ and ‘security’ to the island. Earthquake-prone  
Haiti must now be the most thoroughly stabilised country in the world.  
Thousands of additional foreign security personnel are already on  
their way, to guard the teams of foreign reconstruction and  
privatisation consultants who in the coming months are likely to usurp  
what remains of Haitian sovereignty.

Perhaps some of these guards and consultants will help their elite  
clients achieve another long-cherished dream: the restoration of  
Haiti’s own little army. And perhaps then, for a short while at least,  
the inexhaustible source of ‘instability’ in Haiti – the ever-nagging  
threat of popular political participation and empowerment – may be  
securely buried in the rubble of its history.

Peter Hallward is the author of Damming the Flood: Haiti, Aristide,  
and the Politics of Containment.
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