Quotes of the Day
Before the U.S. could begin to help Haiti rebuild its ravaged democracy last week, it first had to remove a raving demagogue. Not President Jean-Bertrand Aristide, who had already resigned on Feb. 29 and flown to asylum in Africa. Now the headache was Guy Philippe, whose rebel army had forced Aristide out — and whose triumphant entry into the capital, Port-au-Prince, lavishly upstaged the simultaneous arrival of hundreds of U.S. Marines. After sweeping the city of Aristide's armed gangs, the baby-faced Philippe, 36, declared himself Haiti's new "commander in chief," despite the fact that Haiti's army was disbanded a decade ago. "The country," he announced, "is in my hands!"
Philippe's motley force numbered only a few hundred soldiers. But when the rebels moved to arrest Aristide's Prime Minister, Yvon Neptune, the Americans had had enough. U.S. armored military vehicles surrounded Neptune's office, and as Philippe supporters massed at the gate, annoyed U.S. officials told them sarcastically, "Sorry, we're closed." Afterward, U.S. military commanders called Philippe in and warned that if he didn't disarm he would "be dealt with the same as anyone who gives us hostile interference out there," says a U.S. official. Philippe publicly agreed, though days later his insurgents were still armed and testing U.S. patience inside the capital and the provinces. Their tin-pot bravado was winning them support on the streets and complicating the U.S. military's efforts to assert authority in Haiti, where more than 100 people have been killed in the political violence.
|
|
||||||||||||||
|
||||||||||||||
This is the third time since 1915 that American soldiers have had to clean up a mess in Haiti. The hemisphere's poorest nation doesn't pose the kinds of dangers that U.S. soldiers face in Iraq. But, like Philippe himself, Haiti can be a p.r. nuisance for any U.S. Administration that intervenesa terminally failed state that often inflicts collateral damage on America's image as an exporter of democratic institutions. As more than 2,000 U.S., French and other international peacekeeping troops began policing Port-au-Prince's streets last week, it was hard to forget that Haiti's newest crisis resulted in part from the U.S.'s meager effort when it last intervened there. That was in 1994, when 20,000 U.S. troops restored Aristide to power after his first presidency had been aborted by a brutal military coup three years earlier. Says retired U.S. Army Lieut. General Joseph Kinzer, who headed 6,000 U.N. troops in Haiti in 1995-96: "The U.S. had a year-and-a-half plan for a 10-year operation."
The peacekeeping effort further stretches a taut U.S. military, but not to the breaking point. Pentagon officials are confident they can handle Haiti, but with 120,000 U.S. troops in Iraq and an additional 11,000 on the ground in Afghanistan, the Bush Administration — particularly in an election year — isn't likely to dispatch more than a few thousand to Haiti for much longer than the three months mandated by the U.N. last week. "We stepped up, and we are the lead elements of the interim force," said Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, who sees an international peacekeeping force of up to 5,000 in Haiti before long. But "obviously, we'd like to see some other country take that lead."
The initial goal of U.S. forces in Haiti was to protect "key facilities" like the airport. But as the pro-Aristide mobs, known as chimeres, tried to take back parts of Port-au-Prince last week, vengefully looting and shooting up neighborhoods, the U.S. and France responded by launching street patrols. Unlike troops in many other peacekeeping efforts who pledge to use deadly force only in self-defense, soldiers in Haiti will be armed "with the rules that allow them to do their job," said General Richard Myers, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff — meaning they can intervene to stop gang violence.
So far, the peacekeepers are encountering little opposition, although 3,000 angry Aristide supporters demonstrated in front of the U.S. and French embassies last Friday. As Marines on foot and in humvees entered the capital's devastated neighborhood of La Saline, navigating the still smoking street barricades and bloodstained market stalls, the chimeres seemed to have slithered back into the woodwork. "Not one ounce of resistance," said a relieved Marine corporal who had just arrived from Camp Lejeune in North Carolina. "Not like what I'd been seeing on TV." But many Haitians who remember the 1994 invasion seemed dubious of America's resolve. "They won't stay long," predicted secretary Magdalin Blanc, 24, as she watched the Marines gather in front of the presidential palace. "That's why we need an army again."
For now, Haiti needs a more genuine police force. Aristide, who in 1991 became Haiti's first democratically elected President, was eventually undone by his emasculation of the country's democratic institutions — especially its corrupt and threadbare cops, who defected to the rebels' side last month. Marine Colonel Mark Gurganus, a commander of international peacekeeping forces in Haiti, described Haiti's police last week as "devastated and demoralized." Philippe is a former police chief, and most of his rebels are ex-cops and ex-soldiers.
But Haiti, with few respected leaders and democratic institutions, will not be easy to turn around. The rebel hero Philippe has long been under investigation for ties to drug trafficking. (He denies any involvement.) Some of his ex-military allies are linked to atrocities, including civilian massacres. The constitutionally mandated interim President, Supreme Court Chief Boniface Alexandre, is barely recognizable to most Haitians, though he won applause for appointing an untainted national police chief last week. Alexandre's main task, to hold a special presidential election, is vexed by the fact that Haiti's parliament shut down in January and Aristide began ruling by decree. A commission of Haitian and international representatives has been assembled to expedite the transition, but Philippe's strong-man show last week has "distorted the process," says opposition leader Andre Apaid. Elections might not be held until late 2005. Said an exasperated senior State Department official: "Short of running the country ourselves, we can't fix it."
- Tim Padgett and Kathie Klarreich/Port-Au-Prince