Internal exiling in the face of imperialism

On August 8, 1915, Rear Admiral William B. Caperton, Commander in Chief, Atlantic Reserve Fleet, arranged a meeting at the American Legation in Port au Prince with the two most prominent candidates for election as President to Haiti. He intended to ascertain their feelings toward the United States, and, in truth, to choose who would be the next President. Before the meeting took place he already had a sense of where each stood, but he wanted to hear their intentions directly. Relying on his chief of staff, Captain E. L. Beach, to translate, Caperton began when the two men arrived:

Gentlemen, it seems likely that one of you will be elected President of Haiti. Haiti is in great trouble; she has suffered much. The United States has come to Haiti as a good friend, interested only in Haiti’s welfare, in her happiness, in her prosperity. The United States has determined that revolution and disorder and anarchy must cease in Haiti; that unselfish and devoted patriotism must characterize hereafter the acts of the Haitian Government. Senator Dartiguenave and Dr. Bobo, realizing this momentous crisis in Haitian history, with the eyes of Haiti and the United States upon you, do you promise that if elected President of Haiti you will, in your official acts, be guided solely by earnest devotion to Haiti’s honor and welfare?[1]

Both men replied emphatically in the affirmative, and Admiral Caperton continued:

Senator Dartiguenave, in case Dr. Bobo should be elected will you promise that you will exert every influence in your power to assist him for Haiti’s good; that you will join with him heartily and helpfully and loyally?

To which Dartiguenave responded:

If Dr. Bobo is elected president I will give him the most loyal, earnest support in every effort he may make for Haiti’s welfare.

Admiral Caperton repeated the question to Dr. Rosalvo Bobo:

Dr. Bobo, if Senator Dartiguenave is elected president, will you help him loyally and earnestly in his efforts to benefit Haiti?

No: I will not! Dr. Bobo shouted. If Senator Dartiguenave is elected president I will not help him. I will go away and leave Haiti to her fate. I alone am fit to be president of Haiti; I alone understood Haiti’s aspirations, no one is fit to be president but me; there is no patriotism in Haiti to be compared with mine; the Haitians love no one as they love me.

It was decided in that moment, that Senator Dartineguave would be President. Admiral Caperton explained his decision thusly to the Select Committee on Haiti and Santo Domingo, six years later:

My idea was that the man most suitable for the Haitian presidency was one in whom the Haitians confidence, one whose animating purpose would be Haiti’s welfare, to which purpose he would give unselfish devotion; and also, one who combined such qualifications with confidence in the United States. There was never any bargaining of any kind whatever with Dartiguenave, as far as I know.

Three days after the meeting, Dartiguenave was elected in a landslide by the National Assembly. This conversation, held in private, but which had very public implications, marked the beginning of the new diplomatic relationship between the U.S. and Haiti and her people. In the U.S. political imaginary, the political subjectivity of Haitians had become only legible in their acquiescence to the U.S. Individual actors within the political sphere, and the political actions of the population at large, were not only subsumed to the needs and agenda of the U.S., but were in fact written with a pre-determined structure of what constituted a “proper” political subjectivity.

It is precisely in redefining political subjectivity for those under control – a denial not only of a sophisticated sense of political subjectivity, but also a resistance to recognizing legitimate enactments of citizenship – that citizenship of the Haitian governing body and its constituents was negotiated from across an ocean, transnationalizing citizenship, as an extension of an imperial project. When Dr. Bobo threatened to leave Haiti forever, he was not having a moment of “theatrics” (as it is described by Admiral Caperton), but rather, he materialized what was both discursively and politically occurring – an exiling. Like so many Haitians before him,[2] Dr. Bobo faced exile if not elected President, but he also faced a much deeper exile – an exiling from his own country even if he stayed.

What does it mean to be exiled while still in one’s own country? And what does it have to do with citizenship? I’ve been chewing on this problem for quite some time. In re-reading Said’s “Reflections on Exile”, what does come clear is the “unhealable rift” required of any man who would accept the Presidency under the U.S. occupation – the rift between not only himself and his country, but of his own citizenship to Haiti – which would be a much deeper estrangement from his political subjectivity.

But i think, at root, is a deeper exiling – one of the Haitian people, more generally. This happens at multiple levels, but i am interested in two: political and body. On the one hand, Haitians were systematically stripped of their rights, coming under martial law within weeks of the U.S. marines landing, coming under severe censorship within months, and finding that the hearings that were held through the court martial system were neither fair nor productive. This was partially dependent upon the imaginative construction of Haitian bodies in the eyes of the commanding forces, the U.S. State Department, and the Secretary of the Navy. Repeatedly, Haitians are configured as dirty and diseased – both reasons to instantaneously disregard them as political subjects or citizens. Their citizenship is diminished in the eyes of the Americans, as written through disease.

But how does this, the reading of bodies, come to symbolize a kind of exile? When i think of exile, i immediately think of casting out – a cutting off of that which is deemed “diseased.” People are not exiled for being “healthy” toward a government or ruling class – they are cut out, like a cancer. They represent the possibility for something else, they pose a threat to what is. They must be written and understood as diseased to be cast out, to be divided from their citizenship. What is humbling about Bobo’s defiance, in what he knew to be a defining moment, was his unwillingness to give in quietly. He knew that he was lost, either way, and so he stood there, in utter truth and without apology. 


[1] This conversation is taken from Admiral Caperton’s testimony in the Hearings before a Select Committee on Haiti and Santo Domingo, United States Senate, Sixty-Seventh Congress.

[2] Beginning with the fourth President of Haiti, Jean Pierre Boyer, who was overthrown and exiled first to Jamaica and then France, 13 of 26 Presidents since independence had been in exile – most of them in Jamaica.

 

Moving through spaces of culture

Exile is strangely compelling to think about but terrible to experience. It is the unhealable rift forced between a human being and a native place, between the self and true home: its essential sadness can never be surmounted. And while it is true that literature and history contain heroic, romantic, glorious, or even triumphant episodes in an exile’s life, these are no more than efforts meant to overcome the crippling sorrow of estrangement. The achievements of exile are permanently undermined by the loss of something left behind. Edward Said, Reflections on Exile

It’s not fair to compare an academic’s life to that of a true exile, but these words have haunted me since the beginning of this journey. We are all in exile as we move toward our new homes – intellectually, physically, emotionally. It’s the reconciliation of the past to the present and all the possibilities of the future that need meeting in this space, even as we unravel who we were to become who we will be.

Aristide and youth

The news came the other night, as i finished up: Aristide was finally granted a passport renewal. After 7 years in exile in South Africa, Jean-Bertrand Aristide is looking homeward again.

On February 4th, the World Federation of Democratic Youth, an anti-imperialist movement that has been active since 1947, sent a delegate to hand deliver a petition to the UN general headquarters in New York with signatures from 825 youth requesting not only the removal of the MINUSTAH troops from Haiti, but also reparations for importing cholera.

The World Federation of Democratic Youth meets once every four years. This year, they met under the heading, Let’s Defeat Imperialism for a World of Peace, Solidarity and Social Transformation in South Africa. On their website, they have several statements of support for the revolutions that are taking place across North Africa and the Middle East, along with several other condemnations of coups d’etat, occupations, and other imperialist moves across the globe.

But not everyone is eager for Aristide to return – at least not until he is tried by the International Criminal Court for human rights violations. A recent editorial in the Mail and Guardian Online by Miachel Deibert, American journalist and visiting fellow at Centre for Peace and Reconciliation Studies at Coventry University (and the author of Notes from the Last Testament: The Struggle for Haiti) points to a very different view from the veneration of Aristide that we see across the West – one that points to violence.

I’ve often stopped to wonder how much any of us could possibly know. As researchers, we tend to read what agrees with us and what we agree with, but as i watched the documentary (Aristide and the Endless Revolution) again for the fifth time yesterday, i realized that people on the other side of the argument believe just as strongly, with conviction, and with their frames of supporting evidence to the contrary. I was particularly struck by Roger Noriega’s (who some blame for the removal of Aristide) conviction and certainty at Aristide’s incompetence – a conviction that blurred his ability to speak in supporting evidence. His evidence was simply the evidential nature of Aristide’s very existence of being. I would fail a student for using that kind of supporting evidence. Well – not fail, but make stern remarks in the margins at least.

We are creatures of our understanding of the world, but there are moments that are obvious, like the fact that Lavalas, Aristide’s political party has won every election they’ve been allowed to participate in since 1990 – and further, that the threat that Lavalas poses has led to the arbitrary exclusion of the party from elections since 2004 – including the elections in November. And although several members of the American Congress pushed for a recognition of this and 11 other excluded parties in the electoral process, their demands went unheeded.

In the meantime, Haitians are peacefully taking to the streets, calling for the return of Aristide. Many worry that diplomatic pressures (particularly US, French and Brazilian) are stemming his return. The worry is that Aristide may disrupt the upcoming March 20 election run-off.

Whether Aristide is a brutal human rights violator or a peaceful grassroots activists / priest / president  or some combination of the two, is something that none of us can really understand from out here or even if we get there. Haiti is not our country. Haitians are not our people. But what is evident is where the money goes and where its power undermines political processes. What is evident is the power of power…that’s not a tautological statement. I mean it exactly as it sounds.

The Interim Haiti Reconstruction Commission (IHRC) has economic and policy power over Haiti until August 2012 (for now), yet Haiti is faced with strong condemnations for not “building back better” fast enough for anyone. What has happened? It’s in these moments of following flows of power that i become less convinced of arguments against Aristide.

I suppose, as i look to the revolutions across North Africa and the Middle East, watch our students slowly awaken to the necessity of solidarity and action on and across campuses, watch my colleagues in Wisconsin put everything on the line to retain their bargaining rights – i’m struck by the enormity of the power of the youth and young adults in this country and across the world.

Clive Barnett does a particularly delightful job of dissecting the different theoretical frames for events across the world right now. Maybe sometimes we just need a sense of humor about it all?

And we wait.

I bumped into this delightful short video today, so i’ll leave off here: