The Forgotten Occupation

 

As soon as we found Alain Martin's documentary, The Forgotten Occupation, was on Tubi for streaming, we had to watch it. Unfortunately, it was a disappointing experience. By sticking to the framework of the documentary on the brutal US military occupation of Haiti as a "letter" to his late grandfather, a right-winger with pro-US views, the documentary was unable to provide a coherent overview of the US Occupation. Naturally, no documentary of about 90 minutes in length could cover everything. But the constant juggling by the narrator back and forth between the period in question, something about his grandfather, or shots of Haiti today (with commentary on the abyssmal, horrific state of the country), consumed a lot of screentime.

That said, there is much to enjoy in the film, even if one does not find Martin's grandfather to be a very compelling or interesting figure (perhaps explaining why someone who seemed to prefer authoritarian governments left Haiti in 1967 would have humanized him?). The documentary covers most of the major players, such as Smedley Butler, Russell, Dartiguenave, Charlemagne Peralte, and more. But one is also left scratching their head by the significant omissions. No Jean Price-Mars, for instance, and no mention of Jacques Roumain, Georges Sylvain or the Union Patriotique? Nothing said about Borno and Vincent and the shenanigans that preceded the final conclusion of the Occupation and its aftermath? We were hoping for a more nuanced and comprehensive documentary that could cover some of these well-known figures involved in this. Instead,  due to time constraints, much of it is alluded to very briefly or obliquely. This does a disservice to the types of insights and research that could have covered the Marchaterre Massacre, the activism and journalism of Jolibois fils, or the contradictions and ramifications of indigénisme in Haiti. With recent research on figures like Jolibois fils or the experiences of Haitian migrant workers in Cuba and the DR during this period, a lot was not included in the film. 

Despite these aforementioned problems, we did enjoy the documentary. There are some especially striking photographs, videos, and audio segments, including key US figures during the Occupation. Peralte and the cacos were covered as well as some of the abuses of the US Occupation. And to some extent, the documentary did succeed in establishing how this period from 1915-1934 did set Haiti on a path for more centralized, authoritarian regimes that followed. One just wishes there was a documentary focusing just on the Occupation itself, with some analysis of what followed near the end to convince a popular audience why it is relevant today. By muddling the narrative and running out of time, a lot of essential developments during the Occupation were lost. 

A History of Haiti from Gilles Gougeon

This short video material on the historical roots of Haiti's economic and political crises is, while over simplifying the history of a nation, is one I agree with. Gougeon should have known better than to perpetuate the notion of a "mulatto" elite, but other than that (and perhaps the legacy of Aristide), this is useful introduction for those who know nothing about Haiti's history. I came across the video from an article. 

Haiti on Tumblr

Sadly, my favorite history blog will likely never return. Haitian History Blog was not only high quality, sourced, and nuanced, but one of the few serious blogs on Haitian history. For a variety of reasons, the administrators got sick of disrespect and the Tumblr community, and while I sympathize with their plight and agree with them on some of the flaws of Tumblr, I hope they return to blogging with a wordpress. At the very least, they will keep the blog open so we can always return. In the meantime, we still have Haiti In the Americas, a great Tumblr blog associated with a graduate course at Yale on Haiti.

Geffrard in 1878

Source

Former president Fabre-Nicholas Geffrard, 1859-1867. Geffrard, like so many 19th century Haitian presidents, was a military man or came to power through the military. And like many other Haitian presidents, Geffrard was overthrown and chose exile to Jamaica, which must have made Kingston quite the interesting city for Haitian political exiles and future dissidents. From what I recall from other sources, Geffrard established a law school, put on a 'tough' face against Haitian Vodou for international observers (read this), established relations with the Vatican, endeavored to attract African-American immigrants, and relied on the British to put down an early coup before finally fleeing to Jamaica under Sylvain's successful coup in 1867. 

An Image of 19th Century Port-au-Prince

While perusing writings by Thomas Madiou and Victor Schoelcher, I came across the above image of Port-au-Prince from the massive Histoire d'Haiti by the former. It's quite beautiful, with lush, detailed colors and the city of Port-au-Prince in the back. No artist is given from what I can tell, but it depicts Port-au-Prince at the beginning of the second half of the 19th century. Based on descriptions by Moreau de Saint-Mery and Charles Mackenzie, we know Port-au-Prince was not much of a city, at least compared to Cap-Francais or Le Cap, something confirmed by other travelers to Haiti during the first half of the 19th century. Port-au-Prince was, to folks like Mackenzie, lacking any fine architectural or admirable city edifices, and even in the colonial period Moreau de Saint-Mery said the same. Port-au-Prince has also been devastated by fires and other disasters, such as the explosion of the arsenal, which cost several millions to repair (I believe this occurred in the 1820s). 

In this image, however, lacking extra detail on the layout and streets of Port-au-Prince, shows a much better-looking city with the scenic mountains in the background and the bay. I don't know, based on this image, Port-au-Prince must have been a relatively interesting place to see in the 19th century, even if, as most Haitian towns, roads were in a state of disarray, ruins of former greatness surround you (assuming you believe old plantations and wealthy homes of French whites in Saint-Domingue are a sign of a great past), and Port-au-Prince was not overcrowded. 

I plan on returning to Madiou for a future post, perhaps one focusing on his perspective of the Dominican separatist movement in 1844. Schoelcher will also receive at least one short post, but it's hard tackling old French documents with my elementary French and online dictionaries...

A British Perspective on Haiti in 1835

Perusing Notes of a Visit to Some Parts of Haiti by Rev. Stewart William Hanna (accessed here), a British man of faith residing in Jamaica at the time, has been enlightening. Unfortunately, he is only traveling along the southern coast of Haiti while accompanying a British captain surveying the coast, so he does not describe Port-au-Prince or other cities and regions of the island. However, he does provide some interesting commentary on what he did observe of the morals of the people, the militarized system of governance, life in Port Louis, Cayes and Jacmel, and economic patterns.

In addition, Hanna provides us with speculation on why Charles Mackenzie wrote about Haiti in largely negative ways (a separate post on some of Mackenzie's observations can be read here). Hearing it from an English merchant in Jacmel, a Mr. Frith, Hanna relays to us that Mackenize was received poorly by the Haitian government because they expected a consul of Britain to be a white man. Based on his poor reception by the Haitian government, this English informant to Hanna essentially states that the Haitian government did not take a black or man of color representative of Britain seriously and had no idea he was a man of color. That's highly disturbing on its own since it can be indicative of a broader 'aristocracy of the skin' in how elite Haitians in Port-au-Prince perceived people of color from other parts of the world, by treating these dignitaries poorly. Naturally, one should be a little skeptical given the lack of other sources for Hanna's assertions. Any number of factors could explain Mackenzie's thoughts on Haiti, which were more negative than anything penned by Hanna (or Candler, a Quaker Englishman who visited Haiti in 1841).

Moving on to the observations of Hanna, he offers a mostly positive stance on the parts of Haiti he witnessed. On the question of Haitian military officials and the discipline of officers and soldiers, he notes their laziness, lack of discipline, and shabby clothing and uniforms. Candler, writing in the early 1840s, describes the average dress of the Haitian soldier as being akin to that of British soldiers at the time, so more likely than not Haitian soldiers were, as poorly dressed as some of their European counterparts. The military display he saw in front of Boyer's Jacmel home was unimpressive, but Hanna found the drummers and military bands acceptable or at least better than the military's discipline and parades. Drummers were also used to disseminate messages and government decrees in Jacmel, an idea Hanna commends. The lower ranks and soldiers were disproportionately blacks while the officers and top ranks were occupied disproportionately by mulattoes.

 The essentially militarized form of rule where, General Borgella (met by Mackenzie in Santo Domingo in the late 1820s) oversees the district of Cayes and a black general, Frederique, is in charge of the Jacmel area, seems somewhat necessary given an air of fear of French reconquest, even after the agreement in 1825. Hanna describes being in a ship with other Englishmen assaulted by villagers with rocks, because the blacks feared white foreigners as possibly being a French threat. Indeed, while conversing with Haitians in the town of Cayes and Jacmel, talk of a French squadron near the Haitian coast loomed. Thus, if such an climate of fear persisted after French official recognition of Haitian independence, perhaps the militarized system where civil institutions were largely lacking was somewhat necessary. Unfortunately, this very system encouraged what Hanna considers 'barbarous' modes of punishment, such as execution by firing squad of criminals and the use of soldiers to accompany and beat those convicted of petty crimes in the streets of towns.

As for the dress of civilians, they're described as better dressed than the negroes of Jamaica, only recently emancipated yet under the authority of white planters as 'apprentices.' We also see continuity in some clothing styles from the days of Saint Domingue, such as the popularity of Madras kerchiefs for men and women, soldiers and civilians, as well as the practice of women wearing their hair in elaborate headwraps with vibrant colors.

The role of women in these two aforementioned Haitian cities is critical. The marchandes seemingly govern the market in Jacmel, and they rarely cheat their customers (though Hanna has one case of being cheated on the price). In Cayes, Hanna describes these marchandes as often splendidly attired black and colored women, whereas the shops of both Cayes and Jacmel are well-stocked and presentable. Their independence becomes obvious in the experience of Hanna having his purchases taken back by the merchant woman after someone else offers her a better price! The market on Saturday and Sunday in Jacmel, however, lacked quality goods in Hanna's eyes and violated the Sabbath (theatrical performances, markets, 'heathenism,' military parades, and just about everything else Haitians did on Sunday that was not attending the Catholic church with low turnout disgusted Hanna).

On education, Hanna is disappointed with the lack of government investment and the poor condition of schools. In Cayes, only 30 pupils were taught the most rudimentary things because even the most enlightened Haitian officials did not see any purpose in educating those in manual labor. Indeed, eve after talking the issue over with General Borgella, an intelligent officer thought to be a possible successor to Boyer, believed that the lower classes whose main occupation was to labor, ought not have schooling.

On the question of economic prosperity, labor, and social relations, it is a little hard to put a definite label on Hanna. He's clearly pro-abolition and hopes to see trade flourish between Haiti and Jamaica after emancipation in the British West Indies, yet he also attributes the laziness of Haitians born free after 1804 to their not having been taught skills or learning to labor as their parents were under slavery in Saint Domingue. His time with Mr. Towning, a British businessman running a distillery that produced widely consumed rum in Haiti, also gave him the impression that labor was impossible to procure, despite the annual production of 75,000 gallons of rum. He also visits the ruins of the Laborde plantation, now run by a mulatto, and observes the visible decline of sugar mills and abysmal production rates. Charpentier, a former sugar plantation, is also in ruins and owned by a woman of color.

Regardless of the difficulty of procuring labor for the sugar estates and large-scale plantations, clearly some economic progress and trade goes on. Indeed, American, Belgian, French, and British ships were at the port of Jacmel, and the principal export of Haiti, coffee, along with braziletto wood, mahogany, and Towning tells him the fertile plain of Cayes produces 3 million pounds of molasses. Clearly, labor is not impossible to find since millions of pounds of molasses came out of Cayes, along with coffee from Jacmel and other exports. Since every 100 pounds of coffee leaving Haiti had a duty of one dollar, this type of revenue helped pay for the budget of the government in Port-au-Prince and allow the very same people in power to block access to education for the peasant masses.

Furthermore, Hanna gives the example of one man who built several well-built homes and cottages and successfully persuaded others to help cultivate his fields by allowing them to live in the homes he built, an interesting tale of peasant entrepreneurial spirit and collaboration. So, in my opinion, the evidence of Haitian peasant agricultural production of coffee and other Haitian exports indicates a viable and far more sustainable economic system in Haiti than attempts to maintain the sugar plantations or large estates. Interestingly, Hanna doesn't seem to disagree with the ban on white ownership of property in Haiti for economic reasons, but for encouraging immoral actions, such as white men taking local 'wives' to hold the property in their name for them.

On the question or morality of the people, Hanna unsurprisingly disliked the poor attendance at the church in Jacmel, the lack of religiosity by European residents and traders, and desires French Protestant missionaries to serve in Haiti to make up for French sins against the country. He even laments how European missionaries were spreading in Africa, Asia, and the South Seas yet absent in Haiti, a land not remote or distant from Europe. Though Vodou is scarcely mentioned, the 'heathenism' of the people, particularly the lower classes, though better clad than their shameless Jamaican counterparts, obviously bothered Hanna. The Catholic priests are no better, including an Italian priest in Jacmel with a 'wife' and children, defying the mandated celibacy of the church! Indeed, to someone like Hanna, these Catholic priests perpetuate negative practices among the lower classes of Haiti. Like Candler, one gets the impression that Hanna's perceptions of Catholics in Haiti is one of a force perpetuating superstition and improper morality.

In summation, the overall portrait of Haitian society one sees Hanna's account is a nuanced mixed-bag. He ends his reflections speaking about the beauty and richness of Haiti, yet he also laments the lack of education, Christianity (or his own definition of it), alleged indolence of the lower classes, and 'barbarous' practices in executions. Ultimately, Haiti was a safe (very safe for travelers, just as Mackenzie reported) and beautiful country where, as one would expect, most of Hanna's contacts were upper-class and elite Haitians, so some of their testimony on the work habits of the lower classes is tainted with class privilege. If only Hanna traveled to Port-au-Prince and other regions of the island, then we could have a more valuable source on the political and economic conditions throughout the island in 1835. 

African-American Settlers in Boyer's Haiti

Estimated destinations for African-American settlers in Hispaniola under Boyer's rule, 1818-1843. This is based on low estimates of a total of 6,000 free African Americans rather than the high estimate of perhaps 13,000. Many if not most of these African-Americans returned to the US due to cultural differences, religious differences, and a lack of interest in agriculture (or lack of support). Map taken from here.

I recently re-read Sara C. Fanning's thought-provoking "The Roots of Early Black Nationalism: Northern African Americans' Invocations of Haiti in the Early Nineteenth Century," which can be found here. Fanning also wrote a fascinating thesis that goes into great detail on interests of Haitians and African-Americans in supporting the emigration plan, particularly regarding Boyer's government's interest in US recognition as well as other economic and social factors that pushes as many as 13,000 African-Americans to settle in Haiti. I shall return to her thesis for a future post on the fate and experiences of African-Americans who did immigrate to Haiti during Boyer's presidency. Anywho, here are some interesting facts one can 'gleam' through  Fanning's article. 

1. One of the many reasons free African-Americans were interested in Haiti and emigration was due to increasing persecution and racism across the United States. States considered legislation that placed additional limits on the movement of free black people. Voting laws were established in places like New York City that disenfranchised the mjaoiry of the free black population. Southern states such as South Carolina passed laws that prevented black sailors from staying in Charleston, decreeing that they must stay overnight in the city's jails at their own expense. Since maritime labor was a large source of employment for free black males living along the eastern coast and major cities of the United States, laws such as this, with obvious discriminatory intent and impact, became another push factor for African-Americans to leave the United States.

2. Another reason African-Americans would have felt an interest in Haiti is the lack of interest and connection to Africa. The American Colonization Society, which included free blacks, white slaveholders and abolitionists, sought to convince free blacks to emigrate so as to rid the US of them, thereby removing a potential influence on other slave population. Haiti, unlike the largely unknown African ancestral homeland, possessed a republican ideology of government, presented itself as a defender of the African race, and its military success against France and other European powers in the Haitian Revolution inspired African-American resistance as well as fueling nascent black nationalism. The notion of a strong, independent black state in the Caribbean with a republican government, progress covered in American newspapers, and a militaristic, black masculinity embedded in Haitian political culture, must have appealed to free black men in the US who were victims of white attacks and racist laws. Indeed, the tale of the Haitian Revolution has a long history of praise and emulation in the US, where African-Americans, slave and free, were proud to be Haitian.

3. The free black Masonic lodges across the US were another source of Haitian interest. Like the Masonic lodges in Haiti itself, a zone of male privilege and politics, Masonic lodges for free blacks provided insurance for the community and social spaces where black men could come together on their own terms. Fanning highlights Prince Hall's A Charge to African Masons, which illustrates solidarity and African diasporic bonds with the people of Haiti. It would be interesting as a field of inquiry in itself to examine how Freemasonry in Haiti and African-American Freemasonry intersected. Indeed, the first New York African Mason Lodge opened under the name Boyer Lodge, after Jean-Pierre Boyer of Haiti. 

4. The policy of Haitian states pushing for African-American immigrants goes all the way back to Dessalines. Dessalines offered American ship captains forty dollars per immigrant. Such a policy is understandable given a desire to repopulate the island after perhaps a quarter or more died in the Haitian Revolution. Petion and Christophe also saw African-Americans as a potential source of manpower, repopulation, special skills, and manning naval ships. Paul Cuffee, Jr., also traveled to Haiti in 1812 to participate in the Haitian market, another instance of prominent free blacks engaging in trade as well as serving upon Haitian ships. 

5. Christophe had Prince Saunders, a prominent free black educator and son-in-law for a while to Paul Cuffee, actively working to bring African-Americans to Christophe's kingdom. Petion, on the other hand, tried to entire African-American immigrants through his constitution, which granted citizenship to any descendant of Africans or Indians after residing for one year. Under Boyer, the Haitian state made the most progress in attracting African-Americans, through Haytian Emigration Societies and propaganda in the person of Jonathas Granville, speaking to black audiences while promising land, agricultural tools, wages, freedom of religion, and paying for the passage of emigrants. As many as 13,000 African-Americans would come to Haiti in the 1820s due to Boyer's government's propaganda and the high place of Haiti in free black communities' thoughts. In fact, several prominent African-Americans supported the plan, such as Richard Allen, Peter Williams, and James Forten. Prince Saunders would stay in Haiti and serve under Boyer, too. Allen's son migrated to Haiti for a while, but returned when economic conditions were less favorable for the manufacturing industry. 

Boyer's acceptance of an absurd debt to pay France for recognition, the enactment of the Code Rural, high prices of food, cultural differences, lack of government support and land distribution as well as the collapse of coffee exports in the 1820s led to many African-Americans deciding to return home. In addition, Fanning's thesis claims that perhaps as many as 4000 African-Americans concentrated in and around Port-au-Prince rather than being more evenly distributed throughout the island. Such an overconcentration given the lack of appropriate resources and government aid, as well as anger directed at Americans for a smallpox epidemic, would have made things tense for African-Americans. If only Boyer had renegotiated the treaty with France, supported education, established a shipyard in Samana (where the only recognizable community of African-American descendants survives, in today's Dominican Republic), and given more support for immigrants' control of their own mobility, then perhaps many if not most of these African-Americans with needed skills would have stayed. They could have manned Haiti's naval ships, helped establish some manufacturing and textile industries, brought Haiti into closer ties through trade with free blacks in the United States, and, presuming Boyer also did not cut off trade with neighboring Caribbean islands, aided Haitian economic expansion and trade in the Caribbean and beyond. Oh well, what I want to know at this point is the influence of African-Americans from the 1820s who stayed in Haiti and lived through Boyer's wrong-headed rule. 

Thoughts on Dubois's Haiti: The Aftershocks of History

Laurent Dubois, Duke University professor and specialist in Haitian history, has written a very accessible, yet powerful and meaningful history of Haiti from it's revolutionary past to the 21st century. A very ambitious project, Dubois nevertheless cuts back on the Aristide and post-Aristide years, particularly on the question of whether or not Aristide's government succumbed to corruption and the function of a predatory state which has characterized Haiti's central government for quite some time, prior to the Duvaliers. In addition, Dubois's coverage of MINUSTAH and the current affairs of Haiti is quite brief, though clearly he is in opposed to perhaps most of the international community's responses to post-earthquake Haiti, such as the unnecessary UN presence or the various forms of economic imperialism that have defined relations between Haiti and the 'great powers,' such as France, the United States, Germany, and others. His evaluation of the self-declared emperor Soulouque is also fresh in that it avoids the racist generalizations and stereotypes of previous scholars, and his analysis of the violent period of American occupation in the early 20th century demonstrates the power of transnational ties between cacos in Haiti and similar groups operating in the Dominican borderlands, also resisting American occupation. Furthermore, his defense of the "counter-plantation" mindset of Haitian ex-slaves and their rural, Kreyol-speaking descendants is useful for dismantling some of the racist myths regarding Haitians as lazy or barbarous as well as a useful historical precedent for analyzing the troubles with attempts to institute sweatshop-styled labor and other forms of exploitation in Haiti after the earthquake, such as the industrial park in the north of the country, far away from the center of the earthquake. All in all, Dubois's text is necessary for all initiates in Haitian studies or a general audience interested in learning more about the nation after the horrendous earthquake and the ignorant, racist statements about Haiti and its history coming from the likes of Pat Robertson and the mainstream Western press. 

His writings on post-revolutionary Haiti in the first half of the 19th century is also very useful. He clearly has benefitted from other scholarship, such as that of Mimi Sheller. His coverage of both Alexandre Petion/Jean-Pierre Boyer and Henri Christophe's leadership actually supports that of a commentator on this blog, with the latter being a more positive force for the betterment of the rural population than the latter. Although Christophe's rule was more progressive in some ways, all successors to Dessalines, Toussaint, Sonthonax, Poverel, and the French colonial system maintained a militarized system of governance where democratic, civil institutions were neglected or suppressed and the Kreyol-speaking, rural majority of the population were mostly left out of the formal political process. 

According to Dubois, Christophe supported public education (13 schools in Christophe's kingdom were created between 1816-1820, and perhaps as many as 72,000 students benefitted from these initiatives, and a medical school was established in Le Cap through the use of Duncan Stewart, a Scottish doctor), introduced legal reform, some of which was progressive (such as legislation intended to curb deforestation),  all inhabitants without a specialized skill and not appointed to a landed aristocratic position to oversee parishes or members of the military had to work on a plantation, and the Code Henry limited the movement of the workers, but recognized their right to wages (1/4 of annual production), stipulated that landowners had to provide medical service, and, theoretically, the rural population could complain to royal officials. Christophe also sought to introduce the plow to improve Haitian agriculture, but language barriers impeded it's dissemination. 

In addition, Christophe saw Haiti as needed to prove the capabilities of the African or black race, so, despite a paternalistic attitude toward his subjects, intellectuals of color, such as de Vastey, or Prince Saunders, worked with the king and wrote on topics relevant to the king's interest in demonstrating the equality of the races. Though Christophe, like Petion, Boyer and their predecessors (Dessalines, Toussaint, the colonial state), did not practice a democratic form of governance, according to his own laws, the people legally had the right to resist unfair labor relations with elites. What's more, Christophe had the French agent, de Medina, executed upon learning about his mission to reenslave Haiti through acceptance of French sovereignty in 1814. Christophe refused the indemnity to France for lost (human) property in the course of the Haitian Revolution, which probably helps explain his interest in securing a British alliance and his close relationship with British abolitionists, such as Wilberforce and Clarkson, who apprised the king on European affairs. Oh, and Dubois suggests that Christophe was the first to attempt to attract African-American free black settlers to Haiti, which is why Clarkson introduced him to Prince Saunders, an educated free black from the US. 

What is unclear, however, is the question of how the famous Citadel was constructed. Dubois hints at forced labor, which would, naturally, lead to popular resentment. Why, exactly, the soldiers of his kingdom revolted, remains unanswered in Dubois's book, but the king's stroke, immobilizing him, created a space for a military revolt. This could either hint at solely military leaders' unhappiness with Christophe's system or style of rule, but soon after his death, Boyer, successor of Petion's republic in the southern half of Haiti, would reunite the country. If soldiers were the main coercive agent in enforcing the peasant majority to remain on large estates, how did peasants then respond to the death of Christophe? These are questions I want to know, but were not answered by Dubois's overview of Haitian history.

As for Pétion, who, according to Dubois, led the coup against Dessalines, he established one elite school, later called Lycée Pétion. His nominally liberal state, defined in the 1816 Constitution and centered in Port-au-Prince, featured a lower house, called the Chamber of Deputies, who were voted in but the Senate and president were autocratic, positions dominated by Pétion himself and his allies. The president was the only one able to propose a new law and was elected by the Senate,  Like Christophe, his entry into political power began as a military general so autocratic governance practices defined his "republic" where he was life-long president. He also suggested the indemnity to France itself, hoping for recognition! Moreover, what drove the separation between a northern and southern Haiti began with Pétion and his allies proposing a constitution after the assassination of Dessalines that would have granted Christophe the presidential position but taken all the power out of it by empowering the Senate, leaving the presidential position as mostly symbolic. Naturally, Christophe did not like this, and took over the northern half of Haiti while Pétion and his supporters retained control of what were the South and West of the former colony of Saint-Domingue. 

The one good thing about Pétion, however, is the "republicanization of the soil" which occurred through land redistribution and land payments for soldiers. Indeed, some have alluded to this process as the first Latin American land reform, which was practical for the cash-strapped Haitian state in order to pay soldiers (and the military consumed a large part of the state budget of Haiti in these days, no surprise since the Haitian state was always characterized by large military influence and control, no doubt due to the Haitian state's origins within military rule and the failure to subordinate the military apparatus and power to civil institutions). Despite the lack of real republican government where all citizens had the right to vote or participate in the political system, Pétion's land reform indicates some complacency with the "counter-plantation" mentality of the ex-slaves and peasants. He also encouraged sharecropping, or métayange, and his tax system, referred to as a "territorial tax" in Dubois's book, was levied at ports of export, not based on the estates where coffee and other export products were grown. This, in turn, left more profits for the agricultural workers and small-scale producers. Thus, Pétion's rule was at least supportive (most likely against its will) in allowing the Kreyol-speaking, rural majority to engage in its own forms of organization and local autonomy through the quite egalitarian lakou system which determined questions of land inheritance and land distribution among extended families, as well as other forms of social organization rooted in cooperatives and religious associations. Of course, the predatory Haitian state sought to limit their control and access to mainstream, dominant sources of power (except through the military, which remained the main way to access national or regional political power, since generals often had great power and collected taxes in 19th century Haiti) as well as profitted from the agricultural products of rural Haiti while not providing basic services (healthcare, education, suffrage, etc.). Another positive contribution of this president was his support for Bolivar and the liberators of Venezuela and  Colombia, whose leaders received Haitian military aid and supplies to defeat Spain. 

Jean-Pierre Boyer, who inherited Pétion's political system in 1818, would reunite Haiti under his authority and secure French recognition of Haiti by accepting a massive indemnity (and gigantic loans to pay off that debt). Boyer, like his predecessor, ruled in an authoritarian manner, carried out human rights violations, censored and cracked down on critics of his regime (such as Félix Darfour), blocked the election of opposition members in the bicameral legislature, and attempted to recreate an export-oriented, plantation-styled estate system through the Code Rural, which gave landowners extensive power over laborers, outlawed agricultural cooperatives, limited the movement of rural residents (like the Code Henry, or the laws of Dessalines and Toussaint before him), created a rural police to enforce this,  and enacted corvée labor to force rural residents to work on road repairs without pay. Boyer, in addition to subjecting the Haitian state to great debt with France (and the long legacy of debt and poverty that many postcolonial nations would suffer in the 20th century) and attempting to confine the rural Haitian majority to plantations (though it was a huge failure, since rural farmers and workers continued to control, for the most part, cultivation, and focused on growing subsistence crops and coffee for export (often through land they had come to acquire on their own or through lease),  Boyer's state relied on keeping the Haitian people uneducated, according to French abolitionist Victor Schoelcher, who saw the Haitian peasant as little better off than Caribbean slaves (a perspective Dubois is careful to criticize). Indeed, Boyer's Haiti only had 10 schools, and upon unification of Haiti with Christophe's former kingdom, the schools established there were destroyed. So, the majority of the Haitian population were blocked, for the most part, access to schools, hospitals, and the vote, which enabled Boyer to keep his grasp on power for over two decades, in Haiti as well as the Spanish-speaking East, which would not sever ties with Haiti until 1844. As Dubois describes, Boyer's Haiti produced two classes: urban residents governed by national laws and rural dwellers subject to a different, highly restrictive set of rules.

Boyer's Haiti also enabled the forms of economic imperialism that would weaken Haiti (and many other postcolonial "Third World" states), such as relinquishing further and further control of the foreign trade to merchants from Europe and other parts of the world (Germany, later on, Syria, and others). The Haitian state, which relied on taxes on imports which caused the rural peasants to pay more for these imported goods, also levied a tax on the coffee produced in the interior and sold to merchants in the port towns. Haitian coffee, a high quality export, was favorable to Haitian peasants and could be grown on small plots, and, indeed, by the 1820s, Dubois states that nearly 1/3 of all coffee consumed in the US was from Haiti. However, foreign merchants, who often married local women so as to gain access to property-owning status in Haiti, were able to eventually replace local Haitian merchants and control trade through their trans-Atlantic contacts. This is a dangerous trend because such a large portion of the Haitian government's revenues derived from custom houses, rising to 92% in 1842 from 73% in 1810. Basically, Boyer helped initiate and further establish Haitian economic dependence and allowed foreign merchants to gain control of the foreign trade, which was also increasingly one of the main sources of government revenue. His militaristic rule, from 1818-1843, exclusionary and undemocratic, undeniably helped permanently place Haiti into a position it has not yet escaped from, debt-ridden, subject to political and economic imperialism from the US and Europe, and an inefficient, oppressive state. Indeed, the often seen warships from Germany, France, the US, and other states in Haitian waters, threatening to invade over allegedly unpaid debts to foreign merchants would reveal the weakness of the Haitian government to respond to its economic woes and the degree to which foreigners controlled the trade and could dictate the course of the state.

Unlike Papa Doc, however, Boyer never faced accusations of practicing Vodou, and his 1835 penal code included prohibitions on Vodou, witchcraft, zombification, and other African-derived and influenced practices. And, as Dubois himself recognizes, Boyer never had the direct, rule of terror over all of Haiti that Papa Doc abused, since the Haiti of the 19th century was defined more by regionalism less than a centralized state in Port-au-Prince. But nevertheless, Boyer's long rule of Haiti and the island of Hispaniola consisted of abuses of power, patterns of economic dependence, and a militarized state that would only grow exponentially by the mid-20th century when Papa Doc's dictatorship and rule based on fear ensnared all of the Haitian population. Surprisingly, the relatively peaceful revolution of 1843, which unseated Boyer, was mostly non-violent, and revealed the degree to which radical ideologies (such as socialism) were known to some Haitan elites, and, of course with the Piquets, led by Acaau, who were referred to by Maxime Reybaud as black communists (Dubois says they demanded reduced work with increased salaries, lower costs on imported goods and more money for their crops, as well as a national education system). So, the Haitian peasants were not an apolitical mass lacking consciousness and disconnected from the obvious deficiencies of the government which largely excluded them.

In summation, Dubois's book does a decent job explaining certain trends in Haitian history and their origins, which often date back to the colonial period and early national periods. Indeed, we can clearly see some of the future roads Haiti would walk in Boyer's agreement to the massive indemnity to France and the creation of two separate and unequal Haitis: one of elites based in the military or descendants of colonial elites and the majority group, mostly Kreyol-speakers and often denied access to the very sources of power which sought to prey off their exclusion. Clearly, Michel-Rolph Trouillot's work on the origins of Duvalierism and other studies of Haitian social history and political conflict have contributed to Dubois's analysis, which is, for the most part, more accurate and fair than any rendering one would get in the mainstream media or news coverage of Haiti during and after the earthquake. If we only just supported a "counter-plantation" system there and at home, while recognizing the necessity for the Haitian state to develop its own accountability and democratic institutions, then perhaps Haiti could thrive once again.