HAITI v. THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC
Like the border that separates the two countries, where the lush green landscape of the Dominican Republic gives way to the barren, deforested soil of Haiti, the contrast in political and social fortunes is sharp.
For many Dominicans, Haiti's former occupation of the DR is the root of the the enmity between the two nations. In 1804, rebellious slaves on the western side of the island expelled the French and created the nation now called Haiti. The Haitians then backed Dominican independence from Spain, though they soon occupied Spanish Santo Domingo to make sure neither Spain nor France would again find an easy foothold. Dominicans, angry about twenty-two years of inept Haitian rule, won back freedom in 1844. Spain soon re-annexed Santo Domingo for a few unhappy years until the colony again resorted to Haitian help to cast off European rule. Official Dominican history, however, downplays its neighbor's contribution. Independence Day in the DR celebrates freedom from Haiti, instead of from Spain. Such an act is a literal and symbolic expression of the country's desire to embrace its European legacy, and to reject its connection to an African past, a past it shares with Haiti.
An ingrained Dominican scorn for Haiti's African roots also plays a major role in the dispute. Even though the majority of Dominicans can also claim some portion of African descent, most are taught to deny that heritage. The racial components of this ideology have had severe consequences. In fact, Rafael Trujillo, the Dominican Republic's brutal dictator from 1930 until 1961, was openly inspired by Hitler's racial theories. In October 1937, he ordered the massacre of around 30,000 Haitians on the border of the two countries, as a way of "whitening" his country. To quiet critics, Trujillo deployed an intense "Dominicanization" propaganda campaign portraying his racist mania as a paternal act to save his people from Haiti.
Even within the shared experience of military intervention, there have been differences between the two countries. After the1965 intervention of the U.S., when Joaquin Balaguer came to power and ushered in years of repressive rule, the United States essentially kept a hands-off policy in the Dominican Republic. In Haiti, the United States restored President Aristide to power in 1994, but placed narrow constraints on the exercise of his power. The United States also contradicted itself by pressing for elections while cutting aid to help finance them. According to Michele Wucker, author of Why the Cocks Fight, "The U.S. talks in pretty terms about democracy, but deep down is reluctant to let Haiti muddle its own way in that direction.
Currently, some 500,000 to 800,000 Haitian nationals live in the Dominican Republic, equivalent to almost 10 percent of Haiti's population. Many of these Haitians work under horrific conditions as laborers in the DR's numerous sugarcane plantations. Historically it has been documented that Haitian workers who cross the border to work in the sugarcane harvest have been the victims of a whole array of abuses by the authorities, from assassinations, abusive treatment, massive expulsions, exploitation, deplorable living conditions, and the failure to recognize their labor rights. The migration issue has evolved with the ongoing, fragile political situation between the Dominican Republic and Haiti, which has not only affected Haitian workers who cut cane, but has now expanded to sectors other than sugar, including the coffee, rice, and cacao harvests.
To learn more about the differences between Haiti and the Dominican Republic read, “Why the Cocks Fight,” by Michele Wucker.
Text gathered from various different sources including: The Inter-American Commission on Human Rights of the OAS; "Kicking the Black Out of DR," by Karen Carrillo; "Two Elections on an Island," by David Gonzalez; and "Race and Massacre in Hispaniola," by Michele Wucker.
VOODOU in HAITI
In Haiti, religion is deeply woven into the fabric of daily life, so much so that most public buses, cars, and commercial trucks bear names like Trust in God, God Knows, or I Love Jesus. The scope of religion in Haiti is wider than in the United States and other countries.
Interestingly enough, missionaries and clergy in Haiti often say that while 80 percent of Haitians are Roman Catholics and 20 percent are Protestants, all 100 percent believe in voodou. Because voodou by its nature blends symbols and concepts from various sources, most followers do not even consider themselves members of a separate religion. Instead, they look upon themselves as faithful Roman Catholics who simply "serve the spirits" and are trying to live morally in circumstances that are often difficult.
Christianity, however, has traditionally regarded voodou with hostility. Haiti, before and throughout the reign of Francois "Papa Doc" Duvalier, witnessed official campaigns focusing on the degradation of voodou. The Haitian dictator often appeared in public dressed as the voodou deity Baron Samedi and brought houngans, or voodou priests, into line by claiming he was the Immaterial Being, voodou's supreme power. Papa Doc used voodou to terrorize and manipulate the population, but the roots of the faith ran so deep in Haitian society that not even his abuses discredited it or weakened its hold.
More recently, Haitian leaders have worked on promoting tolerance towards voodou. "I do not consider voodou to be an antagonist or an enemy of the Christian faith, rather, a vital expression of a society close to nature, black, and Haitian," Father Aristide wrote in his autobiography, "Every Person is A Person." "In the veins of voodou flows a blood that is Christian, the two are complementary in their opposition to evil."
Like any other faith, voodou offers a system of beliefs that provides both meaning and solace, qualities that are in short supply in the demanding Haitian countryside. When a child succumbs to disease, parents need not feel guilt if they can ascribe the death to a loup garou, the werewolf that is believed to prey on the blood of babies. If a farmer's crop fails, he may interpret that as a sign of displeasure of a loa, or spirit, rather than the result of a lack of water or fertilizer.
For the average Haitian, especially those living in the countryside, voodou does more than play a spiritual foundation. In the absence of an effective and impartial government apparatus, it also provides an alternative system of justice. Without having to resort to the police or the courts, which are seen as unreliable or worse, transgressors are punished by the community, through the local voodou priest.
"The poor man, the peasant, knows he can get no justice in the courts. The judge and the lawyers speak French and work for the rich and scorn him, so he turns to voodou for a solution."
Text gathered from the article "In a Harsh Land," by Larry Rohter. The original article was published in The New York Times on December 25, 1994.
