Le Cri des oiseaux fous

Laferrière Le Cri des oiseaux fous creatively tells the story of his alter-ego's last night in Port-au-Prince. After learning of the murder of his friend, Gasner Raymond, a journalist who was covering a strike at Ciment d'Haiti, Vieus Os's mother is fortunately able to procure a passport for our narrator to leave the next day. Vieux Os's name was on the list of targets for macoutes to kill, even though he never engaged in politics (preferring to cover culture in his journalism and individualism). The rest of the novel proceeds as the narrator seeks to say his goodbyes, appreciate Port-au-Prince, ponder exile and dictatorship, and, finally, endeavor to tell the love of his life his feelings for her. Like Pays sans chapeau, which tells the story of Vieux Os's return to Haiti after the events of this novel, nothing is what it seems as Vodou spirits appear (or do they?).

For readers interested in the history of Port-au-Prince and the Duvalier regime, particularly its transformation under Baby Doc, this novel is essential reading. Port-au-Prince comes to life in the evening strolls of Vieux Os across the city, from Carrefour to Petionville. The city's several movie theaters, restaurants, cunning street dogs, and social inequality are palpable. Moreover, the reader is forced to consider the impact of dictatorship and exile on a young dreamer, unsure of himself and what his future will be. 

Since its based on the life of the author, one cannot imagine how difficult it must have been to recount these difficult moments of fearing for one's life, or the constant menace of tonton macoutes and spies in a city where poverty breeds desperation. This aspect of Duvalierism is inescapable here, and brings to mind Chauvet. Indeed, Vieux Os goes straight to the belly of the beast where macoutes abound, personally witnessing conversations about torture from infamous killers for the regime.

And despite the obvious toll of political repression and attacks on the freedom of the press represented by the murder of Gasner Raymond, Vieux Os tries to contextualize all around him with relation to the state, the cultural politics of noirism, duvalierism's targeting of fathers and sons (while underestimating the power of women), and what it means to be an individual in such a place. What are one's responsibilities to one's country? How can such a society continue if the rich in Petionville give nothing and, alongside the state, only take? 

The crumbling of the Duvalier regime seems imminent, and not just due to conflicts between the military and the macoutes. The joyous celebration of the students during a staging of Morisseau-Leroy's translation of Antigone hints at a generation threatening cultural change, despite Vieus Os personally choosing Musset (French) and Morisseau-Leroy (Creole). The underlying perspective here of Vieux Os is one cognizant of Haitian cultural particularity, but eager to retain ties with the universal. Price-Mars is respected, but indigeniste or noirist claims to cultural authority are undermined by the shifting nature of the Duvalierist regime and a generation coming to terms with itself. Perhaps the fact that Mercedes, the Dominican prostitute, adores Alexis's L'espace d'un cillement, hints at the larger regional and global implications of belonging in the world. 

Bureau d'Ethnologie

While perusing old issues of Conjonction for articles on specific topics in Haitian literature and history, I came across the above image in an issue dedicated to Jean Price-Mars. Unfortunately, Jacques Roumain, a key figure in the Haitian ethnological movement's left, is not included, but it's fascinating to see some of the major figures involved with it together. One also sees how an interest in folklore and culture could align with any political orientation, as the examples of Price-Mars, Duvalier, and Roumain demonstrates. However, since Haitian anthropology has been a tool to combat racial inequality since the 19th century, a further examination of its impact on Haitian socialists, nationalists, and Duvalierists is necessary. Perhaps this will be the topic for a future post...

Testament

A fascinating and interesting video of Justin Castera speaking about the Duvalier dictatorship in the 1970s. Very educational and useful context for understanding what was going on in Haiti at the time as well as the activities of the Haitian Diaspora opposed to the dictatorship.

Notes sur le développement du mouvement syndical en Haïti

One of my current long-term interests is the historical and ideological foundations of radicalism, labor movements and socialism in Haiti. Although I still have a long way to go in terms of access to specific reading materials and primary sources, Notes sur le développement du mouvement syndical en Haïti, coauthored by Marxist historian Michel Hector (Jean-Jacques Doubout) and labor organizer Ulrick Joly, provides a succinct overview of the Haitian labor movement from its origins to the fall of l'Union Intersyndical d'Haiti (UIH) in 1963. While the authors have their biases as Marxist-Leninists and Joly's past in the UIH adds a personal dimension, this is an important overview of the Haitian labor movement and Duvalierism from a Haitian left perspective. 

Unfortunately, the study skips over most of the period prior to the US Occupation, and focuses for the most part on 1946-1963, covering the role of the 1946 revolution against Lescot, the brief period of democratic reforms and progressive labor laws, and then the repression of labor under Estime, Magloire, and Duvalier. While partial to the PSP, PEP, and PPLN parties, this study is more sympathetic to fignolisme and the MOP than Hector's major study of labor and socialism. Fignolisme combined charisma, social reformism, noirism, and demagogy with labor but was too limited to Port-au-Prince and its environs. The Federation of Haitian Workers (FTH in French) was more influenced by the PCH (Parti Communiste Haitien of the 1940s) and the PSP (Parti Socialiste Populaire). The other labor union federations were either phantom unions tied to the state or led by opportunists. The PSP sounds like the most coherent socialist political party with the most determined support for labor militancy and union democracy during this period (1946-1950). 

However, the main utility of this important work for me is detailed breakdown of affiliated unions with the UIH in the 1958-1963 period, when Duvalier finally cracked down on democratic labor unions. I once asked a Haitian academic about labor unions among the trieuses of the coffee sector in Haiti after reading that Jean-Jacques Dessalines Ambroise had helped organize workers in the industry, and this book gives the names of two specific unions of trieuses for Maison Madsen and Maison Vital plus their delegates to the UIH. Furthermore, the transformations in the Haitian economy during the 1950s and 1960s under US imperial capitalism helped explain why socialists and syndicalists were able to made impressive gains for labor as the number of companies employing vast numbers of workers increased, including rural areas with agro-industrial US companies and mining. Indeed, some of the strikes launched by regional peasant unions and rural proletarian unions, such as in the Nord-Est, involved thousands of people and were able to win concessions from the labor department of Duvalier into the early 1960s. 

Perhaps most useful, however, is the reflection of Joly and Hector on the weaknesses of the labor movement and internal flaws of UIH. Like economist Mats Lundahl, they point to the lack of a united front of the labor movement as the reason for its inability to defeat Duvalier, but they offer a more nuanced interpretation of the various historical actors and their role in the social totality. Like Lundahl, they acknowledge how the labor movement between 1946 and 1963 was too centered on Port-au-Prince and its environs, did not encompass the poor peasants, and was divided ideologically by fignolisme and socialist currents, but the UIH itself fell victim to economism and winning direct victories for affiliated unions instead of democratic political reforms. The pro-democratic forces were already divided, but by not actively encouraging support for it, UIH may have lost sight of the larger vision for democratic reforms to ensure protections for the growing number of unions affiliating with them. Moreover, the rise of regional federations or confederations of peasants and agricultural workers, partly tied to the political conflicts of 1956 and 1957, proved they were useful for labor organizing in the rural areas but UIH was probably not as proactive in connecting the urban working-class and countryside, despite the involvement of figures like Rodolphe Moise. 

In their defense, state repression placed limits on how much could be done, and despite their shortcomings, UIH supported literacy campaigns, a cultural center, a clinic, fought for the rights of Haitian migrant workers in the DR and Bahamas, and produced a party organ for political education. In short, the UIH, which was supported by PEP and PPLN, was perhaps lacking in a a concerted effort to promote democratic reforms to safeguard the gains of the labor movement while having to deal with an increasingly fascist regime which continued to pretend it was the natural supporter of workers. Moreover, while praising the unification of the PEP and PPLN for the formation of the PUCH by the end of the 1960s, perhaps Hector and Joly's defense of vanguardism may be a blindspot. Indeed, if fignolisme was characterized by the MOP's refusal to trust the Haitian masses with the decision making processes itself, and the UIH did indeed attempt to ensure affiliated unions and their rank and file were involved with democratic decisions of the organization, perhaps the vanguardism of the PSP and PUCH were closer to fignolisme and what Nicholls referred to as the technocratic character of Haitian socialists?

And what does one make of the paternalist mentality and belief in charismatic figures which supposedly characterizes pre-capitalist societies and helps explain, perhaps, the fatalism of the Haitian poor and working-class? Presumably, this fatalistic belief of the Haitian lower classes that a state or individual will save them is part of the same trope among other Haitian leftists that the Haitian people need to develop class consciousness as a class for itself, in itself, and take ownership of its own destiny (masters of the dew, perhaps?). Claude Souffrant once made a similar argument about the religious fatalism of the Haitian peasant. However, is it a just a strawman? Did the Haitian Left have its own CLR James or Joseph Edwards, Caribbean leftists who championed the self-activity of the workers and opposed state bureaucracy and vanguards? UIH came somewhat close to this by trying to stay accountable and include rank and file workers in the decision-making apparatus, but Joly and Hector never denounce vanguards. 

Haiti, le chemin de la liberté

Arnold Antonin's 1974 documentary, Haiti, le chemin de la liberté, is dedicated to the anti-Duvalier activists. As a scathing critique of Duvalierist repression and economic misery that has worsened conditions in Haiti, Antonin's film includes numerous interviews and video footage of repression and resistance. Also critical of Cold War politics and US support for both Papa Doc and Baby Doc, the film uses media headlines, footage of compas bands (I saw Nemours) associated with the 'good life' of the Haitian bourgeoisie under Baby Doc, and commentary on the foreign corporate control of Haiti's resources and cheap labor to further buttress its anti-Duvalier messages. 

Tonton Makout horrors, crackdowns on Communists, students, workers, peasants, and even right-wing opposition (yes, Antonin's film includes their voice) are also included in this film. In addition, numerous signs, propaganda messages, radio broadcasts, and corruption are shown to display how much power the Duvalier dynasty possessed. Even the Hemo-Caribbean Company is shown in the film, as well as partying tourists who want to make Haiti the "whorehouse" of America. Braindrain, and the typical list of horror unleashed by both Papa Doc and Baby Doc make it into this documentary.

Unfortunately, a surprising and disappointing aspect of the film was its opposition to Vodou, a film described as "archaic" and "irrational." Given Antonin's leftist sympathies and populist message of uniting the opposition's peasant, worker, and upper-class echelons, I was not prepared to hear this. Due to Vodou's infiltration by the dictatorship, one can understand Antonin's less than friendly treatment of the religion, but it came off as disconnected and condescending to the Haitian popular classes. On the other hand, the music of Trio Select, twoubadou, interviews with tortured peasants and peasant movement leaders, Haitian paintings incorporated to explain Haitian history, and rara music illustrates a populist and cultural nationalist outlook. Thus, for all interested in Haitian resistance to the Duvalier regime, this film is a wonderful introduction from a Haitian perspective and mindset that clearly places Haiti in a Caribbean and US foreign policy contexts.

Dining with the Dictator

"Once she said that in this God-forsaken country, there are only zombies and sharks. All the real men are in the cemetery. Her lips draw back in disdain, and she spits on the ground, in the direction of the National Palace."

Dining with the Dictator, the sequel to the excellent An Aroma of Coffee, explores the life of the little boy from Petit-Goave who is now a teenager in Port-au-Prince. Living with his mother and numerous aunts, our narrator is no longer the sickly, innocent boy living with his grandmother. This novel begins within a sort of meta-narrative structure where the author is living in Miami, and while taking a bath, recounts a formative experience from April 1971, when Duvalier died. 

Those searching for more continuity between this novel, translated by David Hormel, and An Aroma of Coffee, will find this tale has numerous literary allusions and quotations of the poetry of Magloire Saint-Aude, which thematically matches plot development over this weekend (structured like scenes in a film). Laferrière's novel also uses the streets, people, smells, rains, bars, and atmosphere of Port-au-Prince to create an additional character. So, those interested in Port-au-Prince in the literary imagination will be pleasantly surprised here, given how well fleshed out Port-au-Prince and its landmarks are in this short novel of an important date in Haitian history.

In addition to the narrator (a fictionalized version of the author himself), we have two "families" that are emblematic of Haiti under Papa Doc. For instance, the narrator's mother and aunt, keep secrets from each other, treat the teenage narrator like a little boy, worship his father (currently in exile), but they display a type of solidarity that Laferrière admires in the women who raised him. In contrast, the teen prostitutes living in the home of Miki across the street call themselves friends, but are constantly fighting, plundering men, as Choupette proudly proclaims. These young women protect the narrator, helping him on his sexual discovery and revealing another aspect of Duvalierist Haiti as the 1960s finally hit the island, to paraphrase Laferrière. 

Given the text's praise for the surrealist nothing is quite as it seems, the lives of these young prostitutes are linked to the explosion of popular music, flashy sharks (the Tonton Macoutes), compas bands, nightlife, and a culture of fear and exploitation that cuts across both ways. The effects of Duvalier and the sharks pulling each other down collectively drags down upon Haitian society in this novel, yet the prostitutes are far from powerless. Indeed, gender relations are more complex than they seem, although violence against women is embedded in this world of sharks and zombies.

Though some may criticize the novel for not dealing enough with the state, or Duvalier himself, it's quite clear through the narrator's nightmarish dream of being tortured in Fort Dimanche, as well as the level of fear and spying going on among the people of Port-au-Prince, that the dictator has an all-seeing eye over the population. Furthermore, the relationship between Magloire Saint-Aude and Duvalier is another dimension of the text, demonstrating how things are never quite what they appear to be, whether that is a troubled, homeless youth leading a sheltered teen into trouble, the erotic escapades of young women searching for a flashy existence, or the absence of politics in the music of leading compas bands, such as Skah Shah. 

Joe Gaetjens, Football, and Haiti

Read about  Joe Gaetjens in this short but informative piece from Africa's a Country. It is always important and informative to be reminded of the role sports and other forms of popular culture in Haitian history, society, and politics. Also, my uncle was a footballer back in the day, so it's very reminiscent of some personal connections.

Haiti in the Early 1970s

Haiti one year after Papa Doc's Death (early 1970s) in a 60 Minutes Special. Worth watching for the not quite accurate US narrator's summary of Haitian history and the use of 'transformation industries' as a phrase to describe sweatshops. Naturally, it's hardly an authoritative source, but another example of the many ways the US media approaches the subject of Haiti through exoticizing, primitive lens. It's frightening how so many of the same economic policies introduced under Baby Doc are being attempted again by the current Haitian government, although one can be glad that there is no longer a business in selling Haitian plasma and cadavers anymore (good riddance, Luckner Cambronne).

Haiti In the 1950's

Interesting video footage of Carnival in Haiti, including some music of the 1950s and 1960s with images of carnival processions and commentary. 

Michel-Rolph Trouillot's Haiti, State Against Nation: The Origins and Legacy of Duvalierism

 “It must be said in all sincerity that in Haiti, the most productive, the most useful class is surely the peasantry. After all, is it not this class alone that pays taxes? Is it not they who bear all the nation’s costs?” 

Finally got around to completing Trouillot's well-written text. The man was a gifted writer unafraid to use the first person or throw in sarcastic and bitter words toward certain figures of Haitian history, such as Beaubrun Ardouin. Ever since I first read his excellent essay on the rise of free people of color planters due to the coffee boom in Saint Domingue a few years ago, and his Silencing the Past was also a thought-provoking read. After his untimely death, I felt reading his Haiti, State Against Nation: The Origins and Legacy of Duvalierism was a must. Furthermore, I heard a humorous story involving him and a former professor of mine traveling in Cuba. Not to speak ill of the dead, but Trouillot apparently recoiled in fear when the two were approached by a beggar in Cuba!

Returning to the text, Trouillot traces the development of Duvalierism before Duvalier to the colonial period and early independent black and mulatto-led governments of the 19th century. Indeed, as he pointed out through a careful examination of the writings of Beaubrun Ardouin, an important figure in Haitian liberalism, Ardouin was the first to articulate a form of despotism in which the Executive held complete control and civil servants were to comply at all times. Furthermore, Trouillot is adamant about the key roles of Petion and Boyer in establishing the pattern in which Haiti became the "Merchant's Republic" where foreign merchants dictated the course of the political system.

Of course, some of the blame for the militarized structure of governance could be attributed to Toussaint Louverture or Dessalines, but, according to Trouillot, Dessalines tried in vain to curb the power of foreign merchants (while urging for capitalist accumulation within the state sector, according to Trouillot) while Petion and Boyer actively courted them and ensured the republic would cater to their needs. This, unsurprisingly, helped fuel merchants cheating the Haitian government, threatening the nation with protective consulships (something Raybaud himself did during the Soulouque years), and worked against the peasantry, the only productive group in Haitian society through indirect taxation on their coffee and other export items at the customshouses (which was unfair for placing favorable duties on luxury goods for elites, hurt peasant producers who received less and less for their coffee and other products but had to pay more for agricultural and other imports from the United States and Europe and the peasantry had few options to resist it, given their exclusion from the towns and cities dominated by the import and export firms acting in collusion with the Haitian state. Indeed, foreign consignment merchants also became powerful in Haiti's coastal towns, including prominent families such as the Brouards, Sutherlands, Prices, and Milroys, who, like the rest of the international trading community in Haiti, "fed on the political, financial, and military instability of the state, and had an objective interest in the rate of political succession, since every regime offered them a new and greedier clique of customers” (72).

In a very similar manner as Dupuy, Plummer, and Dubois, Trouillot illustrates how the Haitian taxation system and death of the plantation economy (despite attempts to revive it, such as during the reigns of Louverture, Dessalines, and Christophe, which Trouillot claims only succeeded due to their black skins and honorable positions as military heroes, surely a position a frequent critic of this blog would disagree with) led to many mulatto elites switching to retail and government to profit of the peasantry and their marginalization in the various dictatorships and military coups that claimed power in Port-au-Prince. Foreign merchants benefited the most from this arrangement, providing loans to the Haitian government to keep it standing while using the threat of US or European invasions to ensure compliance with their demands, hence the violation of Haitian waters dozens of times in the second half of the 19th century.

In this context of European and US contempt for Haitians and the threats and intimidation that went hand in hand with the Haitian elite of all shades preying on the vast majority of the people, it's no surprise that productivity stagnated, the population increased, more and more people moved to the cities and Port-au-Prince especially, and the Haitian economy was trapped in a state of dependence and underdevelopment. Without any capital from taxes used by the state or elite to fund technological innovation (well, except for Geffrard, Salomon, and a few industrialists in Haiti and their foreign partners), combined with the corruption of Haitian politicians using government funds to purchase luxuries they believed were deserved, Haitian levels of coffee exports fell despite rising population and their close trade relationships with the US, Germany, France, and other European powers.

One example particularly pertinent is the estimated 150 million francs in gold Boyer and his cronies squandered from the leftovers of Henri Christophe's treasury. What happened to the money? Presumably, it went into the pockets of Boyer, Inginac, and their other closed circle of mulatto elites and the foreign merchants who supplied them with unnecessary luxurious imports. Or, to quote an example from the Soulouque regime, his appointed nobility numbered in the hundreds and drained the treasury far more than Henri Christophe's underpaid and significantly fewer nobility in the North. Soulouque also spent over 30,000 francs one year for a fine French coat one year, the same as his budget for education! Papa Doc's government had numerous examples from the 19th century for corruption, repression, and poor fiscal policy.

In order to demonstrate the weakness of the landowners in post-emancipation Haiti, Trouillot cites Beaubrun Ardouin himself, writing about his inability to control the movement of workers from his plantation or what they chose to produce and take for themselves! In addition, the black landowners of the North also took to politics and the military to enrich themselves, while the import-export bourgeoisie remained more mulatto-controlled, perhaps due to their closer phenotype to whites. Trouillot does not offer a definitive answer to that, but certainly diplomats discriminated against darker-hued Haitians, why not many white businessmen?

On the color question, Trouillot provides some insights lacking in other accounts of Haitian history and social relations. For instance, from what I can recall, Dubois and Dupuy do not delve deeper in the the demographic signifiance of the clair groups in Haiti today. How could such a small minority of the population from Saint Domingue, who lost signifiant numbers during the Haitian Revolution, still appear so numerous in 20th century Haiti? Of course, the fluctuating boundaries between 'black' and the 'mulâtre' have shifted multiple times, allowing certain people to become 'mulatto' when a century ago, they would have never passed. Indeed, regardless of color classifications or the fact that not just any noir could marry a clair, the question of color among black and mulatto elites in Haitian political history was never about democracy or sharing power with the black masses, something visible in the Duvalier years when the bourgeoisie and handy mulattoes benefited from supporting or accepting Papa Doc and Baby Doc. 

The 'color question' and conflicts associated with it in Haitian politics was also compounded by Trouillot's 'urban parasites,' a problematic term but, if I understand correctly, refers to the urban proletariat and servants of the state and other members of the Haitian population not engaged in productive labor but merely waiting and betting on political crises to enrich themselves of serve another dysfunctional state. This system consisting of the political marginalization of the peasantry and accumulation of the urban sector into the political realm was contradictory and made political strife inevitable, which thereby helped 'justify' US occupation for some. This crisis in the system was already almost at its nadir in the 1860s, when Geffrard could not control the countryside, revolts were spreading each year, coffee prices and cotton were down, and Geffrard had to rely on the British to stay in power.

Unfortunately, the pattern did not end, but only grew worse after US occupation centralized the system in Port-au-Prince and removed what Trouillot calls the 'feeble restraints' of the system. Soon, everything was leaving through Port-au-Prince, impoverished peasants and the growing black middle-class were moving to Port-au-Prince and other towns, and the military apparatus was more centralized, too. Papa Doc, from 1957-1964, merely had to neutralize opposition in the government institutions, already conveniently centralized through Port-au-Prince, and then declare himself President-for-Life. Duvalier was following in the more recent footsteps of the repression of Magloire, too, for both persecuted the political opposition and changed the face of Haitian political violence. Women were, for the first time, valid targets and anyone nearby or related to a target was fair game. This is much worse than the assassination of Dessalines, when at least Petion had the honor to promise her the protection of the Haitian state!

Anyway, the Duvalier dictatorships witnessed the rise of totalitarianism, a specific cult of personality centered on Papa Doc, the worsening share of peasant-producers in Haiti's exports, a kleptocracy with little restraints, pervasive and new forms of violence, and the reduction of the state to Papa Doc himself. His son, no better for Haiti, ruled in a period of increasing prices for food, excessive flaunting of his wealth and ties to wealthy elites, and popular discontent and the eventual uprisings. However, as Trouillot indicates in his book, dictatorships, the Haitian state acting against the nation, or the majority of its inhabitants, were and are not new phenomena.

Yet, Trouillot leaves many questions unanswered. How, for instance, can he say peasants were not aware of who to blame or direct for their worsening poverty in the late 19th and 20th centuries? Even in the 1840s, the Piquet peasant uprisings in the South directed their anger at the exploitative taxation system instituted by Petion and Boyer's governments. Would peasants in the second half of the same century not know who to blame, despite being included in caco uprisings in the North and various military leaders who took it upon themselves to lead a coup against Port-au-Prince? I am sure peasants would have realized they were still being cheated by the same indirect taxation of the Boyer years and the influx of peasants into the coastal towns and interior market towns would have exposed them to the intricacies of urban Haiti and economic/political power. Indeed, as Trouillot argues himself, Haiti was never a society of two separate castes, but rather complementary and unequal worlds where peasants and elites were inseparable sides of the same coin representing society.

Overall, a fascinating overview of Haitian society and a convincing case for the origins of Duvalierism in the 19th century economic and political structure. A frequent topic on this blog, the numerous ways in which Boyer and his cronies firmly institutionalized the patterns of systemic underdevelopment and undemocratic practices, partly inherited from the colonial era and a world hostile to black independence, are fully detailed by Trouillot. However, the question of peasant resistance and pushes for social change requires a secondary look to avoid problematic silence on the question of subaltern agency. Basically, what I would like to see is a thorough account of ex-slaves and their descendants in rural Haiti from the 19th century to the present which may shed some light on the inner thinking of peasant communities and moments in which their actions and reactions shaped the national government (and beyond some of the more obvious ways, such as peasant resistance to the Code Rural).

Well, let me know what you think? Thoughts on Duvalierism and the long first century of Haitian independence? Could capitalist accumulation in the state sector under Dessalines have succeeded in curbing the power of foreign merchants and allow for innovation and improvements in the Haitian economy?

From Dessalines to Duvalier: Race, Colour and National Independence in Haiti: A Short Review

Image courtesy of http://www.blackpast.org/gah/duvalier-jean-claude-baby-doc-1951

I am not sure how I feel about the much-lauded From Dessalines to Duvalier: Race, Colour and National Independence in Haiti by David Nicholls. I have skimmed the book twice and recently read it about a month ago, and am not sure if Nicholls approaches his two areas of focus with enough nuance, the question of race or color and the ways in which Papa Doc's regime gained legitimacy or became an entrenched institution for decades. The text is clearly a classic because of its wide breadth, epic scope, and well-researched pages reveal how deep Nicholls delved into Haitian primary sources for his analysis, particularly his readings of 19th century Haitian writings to buttress his analysis of that crucial first century of Haitian independence.

However, one begins to wonder why he wrote such a long text when he contradicts and modifies his thesis on the importance of color in Haitian history. For example, on more than one occasion, he refers to instances of mixed-race Haitians allying themselves with 'black nationalism' or some form or 'noiriste' ideology, such as Thomas Madiou serving under Soulouque, Salnave, a light-skinned mulatto being a "product of the noiriste tradition of the north, the Afrocentrism of Carl Brouard, a mulatto, and numerous instances of prominent black or mulattoes serving or representing the interests of the Liberal or National parties despite the binary lens of black versus brown Nicholls wants to impose on political conflict.

Furthermore, he affirms the tendency among Haitian elites of all backgrounds to express pride in their being descendants of Africans, even when such Haitians were virtually indistinguishable from Europeans! For instance, Baron de Vastey, a mulatto supporter of Henri Christophe, wrote about the blackness of ancient Egypt and followed European travel narratives of the 18th and 19th century to dismiss the notion that all of contemporary Africa was a land of savagery. In addition, later elite mixed-race and black Haitians of the 19th century proudly alluded to their African ancestry in writings, saw Haiti as proof of racial equality, and mulatto Haitian thinkers were far more complex than the narrow lens of a 'mulatto legend' Nicholls attributes to them. Sure, all 19th century Haitian thinkers for the most part saw the Africa of their day as barbaric and considered European cultural norms and society as the barometer for success to a certain degree, but many argued for Haitian cultural autonomy (Nau and Lespinasse) or, like Janvier, Firmin and Sylvain, became involved in anti-racist scholarship, 'black nationalism' or pan-Africanism.

Indeed, by the 1890s and early 1900s, some Haitian writers wrote admiringly of African-derived traditions (Innocent, Dorsainvil). Thus, to me, Nicholls takes the rider on a rollercoaster ride across Haitian history by emphasizing the color question yet simultaneously illustrating how complex, surprising, and class-centered much of elite contests for power were in the first century of Haitian independence. He even writes about these conflicts as being more about rhetorical strategies and slight ideological differences among different sectors of the elite where color could arise as a point of conflict. This does now show the central role of color in Haitian social relations, but rather the importance of color in relation to class and  the ideology of race for elites (who may or may not endeavor to use it to legitimize their rule). In the case of Haiti, race seems to trump class, though naturally race as a social determinant is a function of class in some ways, and vice versa.

Personally, what would be of greater interest to me in terms of an analysis of notions of race, color and class is an analysis of black anciens libres and their mixed-race fellow free people of color from the colonial period into 19th century Haiti, where one can read more specifically into marriage and other forms of social interaction among black and brown elites in an attempt to measure class mobility and intra-class conflict from the days of French rule to independence. Such a feat could be done, and Nicholls himself hints at the class roots of much of Haitian political conflict, as well as the uncanny resemblance between black and mixed elites. In fact, based on Garrigus's Before Haiti and numerous essays on free people of color in the south of Saint Domingue, one can trace the rise of powerful families in Haitian history from the late colonial period, such Boisrond Tonnerre. Another interesting study could focus more on the broader ideological and pro-black messages of 19th century Haitian literature and relations with the Black Atlantic, which eschews some of the dichotomous black/mulatto lens used by Nicholls. More specifically, what is needed (or at least of interest to me and perhaps more useful for elucidating the origins and structure of Duvalierism and Haitian failures at accountable democratic governance) is vast research on social, political, religious, cultural, transnational, and other dimensions of Haitian history and society to avoid reductionist, one-dimensional readings of Haitian underdevelopment and poverty. If internal race/color conflicts is not the main factor, then of course neither is religion or popular culture (an idea still popular with some of the evangelical crowd in the US).

Of course, Haitian social elites largely interacted among themselves, married among themselves or foreigners, engaged in political and cultural spaces among themselves and inevitably mixed in some way, even if some light-skinned elites continued to look down on their darker-hued peers or rejected marriage alliances. Even some of the 'noiristes' from the school of the Griots such as Papa Doc married light-skinned or white women, formed close relationships with certain mulatto elite families, and incorporated them into the machinations of the state. As one of this blog's followers has revealed, one of the principal architects and ministers of Papa Doc's authoritarian rule was Gerard de Catalogne, who could have easily passed for white. Such instances unveil the silliness of nonsensical claims of a 'mulatto genocide' under Papa Doc. Moreover, his son, Baby Doc, married a mulatto woman from the bourgeoisie, though Burnham thinks this was one of the ways Baby Doc lost his legitimacy among the small black middle-class. Similarly, Aristide is accused of losing his legitimacy by marrying a light-skinned woman from the diaspora, Mildred Trouillot, an interesting perspective but one that would be minor in comparison to the much larger role played by elites and foreign interests in unseating Aristide (or a plethora of other reasons, such as corruption, mismanagement, and other alleged wrongdoings).

Consequently, the larger question of what ideological basis was resorted to under Papa Doc or various other Haitian governments is much larger than race itself, or even the rising black middle class and urban proletariat's alleged interest in naive black nationalism. Would the black middle-classes continue to support a predatory government that preys on their gullibility for so long? Was some form of 'noirism' really one of the significant things in consideration for middle-class Haitians during the Papa Doc years? I am not sure, and I don't believe Nicholls has said too much of substance on 20th century Haiti. The question of the rise of Duvalierism and the 20th century process through which it occurs is better left to other scholars, particularly the nuanced and detailed Red and Black in Haiti by Michael J. Smith. Reviewed by a fine literary scholar of Haiti, Dash, Smith's book is multi-dimensional, nuanced, detailed, and ignores some of the sweeping generalizations and contradictions of Nicholls, who, despite recognizing some of these aforementioned flaws that undermine his work, persists in believing in it. Dupuy's interesting analysis of Haitian underdevelopment helps locate the origins of Duvalierism in a vast array of Haitian and international social and economic forces that contributed to exploitation, autocracy, and meddling from the North to undermine Haitian democracy. Indeed, wasn't one of the main reasons Duvalier enjoyed American support because of his commitment to anti-Communism? I am sure US funding helped keep afloat his parasitic government that further drained the Haitian people of needed funds, social programs, and infrastructure. Alternatively, one could look much earlier into the established pattern of Haitian dictatorships throughout the 19th century for precedents of Duvalierism, such as Soulouque's regime, which also featured Vodou and other appeals to subaltern and elite "African" interests.

Overall, read Nicholls for a good overview of Haitian history, particularly in some of the fascinating figures of 19th century Haitian letters, but be wary of his color obsession and, in my opinion at this moment, his incomplete answer to the roots of legitimacy and acceptance of Papa Doc and Baby Doc. I actually need to do some very serious readings myself, since I am not nearly as informed as I should be though Duvalier is the reason my family came to America in the first place...