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The Republic of the Stateless?
The Republic of the Stateless?
The Republic of the Stateless?
  • News
  • December 25, 2024

The Republic of the Stateless?

Haïti is making headlines all over the world. And it’s not good news. The exploits of Haitians rarely generate so much interest, but we always tend to point out the excesses, spill ink to stir up thorns in the side, broadcast on loop to relay the chaos that is raging. There is hardly any media to make amends for the resilience of this cornered people. No one to highlight the fierce resistance that serves as fuel for this people hanging in the gorges of death. And what if it was to a certain extent the only way to talk about this country to finally attract attention?

It is July 26, 2024. The Olympic Games have just started in France. The 33rd Olympiad of modern times. Without realizing it, according to Forbes Magazine, Haïti ranks among the ten nations with the best costume, proudly pointing to third place. At the same time, miles away from France, on “The Island of Skillfully Orchestrated Chaos,” Haitians do not even realize how much this recognition borders on irony. A paradox whose unpopular evocation is likely to greatly displease. An aerial image shows the city of Paris in all its splendor, illuminated like the gates of paradise, reflecting all the grandeur of France, all the magnificence it has acquired over the centuries, without forgetting the contribution of the blood shed by the horrible machine of colonization. I close my eyes, I go back in time, I see again this boy left to his own devices, lost without even knowing it, doomed to failure without even understanding it. And then there are the others. Boys in the same situation, or worse. Banished from society, they do not know what life has in store for them. They form the elegant class of the marginalized, in their quality of scoundrels, good-for-nothings, and thugs who spoil the splendor of society. This contrast challenges me, and I wonder for a moment if those who live the chaos from the outside grasp the stakes and the reality of the situation. Moreover, it seems to me that even the majority of Haitians living in the territory have no notion of the fundamental and essential aspects of the situation.

A problem with the saying…

Zafè mouton pa zafè kabrit. There was a time when many Haitians repeated this saying, either out of ignorance or pure selfishness, until reality brutally caught up with them. They believed that the evil that was eating away at certain places in the country was specific only to the residents of these said places, and that it could not, in any case, extend to their doors. Haïti has a history that has been inscribed in the annals of union, in its purest form. Unity is therefore an inseparable element of Haitian identity. This is why, in order to maintain the coherence that lays the foundations of its history and preserve its identity, Haïti cannot rid itself of its demons as long as its people refuse to recognize the sacred quintessence of the act of solidarity. This problem of saying, when it becomes a societal problem, draws its entire explanation from another equally popular saying: sa w plante se li w ap rekòlte. Unfortunately, in the slums of the city, the corners of the city, the corridors of the shanty towns, the streets of the working-class neighborhoods, those who reap the storm had never had to deal with the wind. Because their horizon was only a vaulted and gray sky, above a crenellated sea where not the slightest breeze blew. A picture of deadly boredom. The "Haitian Yakuza" was unaware that his destiny was decided in large, obscure meetings. Men without a soul decided their fate through embezzlement and an unbridled love for power and blood. Machiavellian plans were orchestrated while the Haitian Yakuza lived in total indifference to the danger that awaited him. He was unaware of his misfortune, and did not see it coming. Thus, this abstract being without any rights would become, without knowing it, the essential pillar of the power of these abject beings without faith or law. Now it was them, as soon as the powder was lit, the inveterate criminals, the guilty, the bloodthirsty who had to be destroyed at all costs. But yes, at what price?

See as well

A State affair…

There is none. Quite simply. Mentioning the State to designate an assembly of puppets obeying their executioners is a full-bodied insult to Dessalines and Christophe. It is an abundant and sticky spit in the face of these men who had carried within them the ideal of Haitian pride and greatness. But since we must speak of it as if it were the case, it is therefore appropriate to consider the chaos as a matter of State. If the Conzes of power had wanted it, no form of interference could have made this shameful situation possible. How can a people with such a proud history fall so low? Just ask the question, and we start shouting from all sides: "It’s the West’s fault!" This vaguely reminds me of the Kapos, during the Second World War, in the Nazi concentration camps where Jews were exterminated in the crematoria. In Haiti, the same relationship persists between Haitians and their leaders. It is of an unspeakable sadness and such irony to see this country that had the potential to become the first paradise in the world, through its ideal of justice and freedom, fall into the hands of the descendants of the execrable sons of Conzé. Perhaps it is time to finally remember: Enbesil ki bay, sòt ki pa pran. What a misfortune! In the light of history, this country has seen so many imbeciles parade through its ranks that we understand better why we have become one of the favorite targets of the artisans of chaos. Rayi chen an, di dan l blan, we can blame the West for everything, but we must recognize that they are far from being idiots. They are strong, the buggers, it must be recognized, and that suits them well in the face of such amorphous puppets who deliver the country, without forgetting to add to that their dignity, their humanity and their integrity. A whole well-stocked package sold off on the fly.

The reason of the strongest…

There is no rule of law in certain regions of the country, and there is now only one reason to put forward because there is now only one force. What the abandoned and formerly marginalized children decide is now the only law that matters. At the dawn of a possible assault of bullets to finish with the sons of those who make life their fight, perfect scapegoats of a situation with many twists and turns, the children of those who transformed the land of Heroes into hell caress their balls in the best universities at His Excellency the West or gorge themselves on the best pieces of the cake, cloistered in towers guarded by the same sons of the subjugated proletarian class... Finally, even the dog in the parable of the centurion was luckier because at least he was entitled to the crumbs of bread that fell under the table. And we, cornered in the working-class neighborhoods, crammed into the shanty towns, trapped with the Haitian Yakuzas in the surrendered territories (or lost, according to custom), we still wonder what merit to give to those who made the sons of others believe that their future was looming behind the barricades that hindered the progress of the country.

In short, the masquerade continues, and we continue to turn a blind eye, even though we have the scathing gaze of reality fixed on ours. We celebrated the "happy feat" of being among the ten best-dressed nations at the Olympic Games at a time when Haïti is among the top countries in the world that are the most trashed, and the dirtiest.

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Jean Rony Charles
Jean Rony Charles
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Pity or the work of an old soul crushed under the weight of an absinthe-flavored existence

The word crisis carries an infinite number of meanings. No intention of revealing them all this afternoon. However, a few clarifications are necessary. A kid whose parents do not have enough money at Christmas to buy her a Little Black Mermaid doll has a fit and locks herself in her room without touching her meals for the day. A boy whose dog was suddenly poisoned by a neighbor in revenge or shot after contracting rabies, losing a faithful friend overnight, enters into crisis. Finally, a society in the grip of all sorts of mutations and whose leaders are weak, perhaps prolonged in a deep crisis. In the first case, the young girl sulks to attract the attention of her parents in order to feel appreciated by children her age at school or in the neighborhood. Today, thirty minutes of negotiations can be enough to find a lasting solution. In my day, a few well-aimed belt blows would have overcome this whim. But, humanity evolves, they say. In the second case, this boy can find his smile again after a few weeks. He needs a little attention and, probably, another dog. As Stendhal would say, only passion triumphs over passion. In the last case, this society led by inepts is shaken to its deep foundations. Its institutions can disintegrate one by one. The vital forces dissolve in no time. This situation creates a societal tsunami that destroys all life within this community. It is indeed a crisis. The crisis from this point of view constitutes an alarming, desperate situation in the existence of a community where nothing is going well. Chaos reigns supreme. The very essence of life disappears. The individual can take precedence over the community. Everyone tries to solve their problems without worrying about others. The closest neighbor is relegated light years away from you. How can we turn to creation? How can we continue to conceive of otherness? How can the artist absorb this great collective disarray as a source of motivation? These are the questions I must answer. An artist sees and feels what ordinary mortals cannot even imagine in a thousand-year life. He creates to denounce, when his conscience as a human being is revolted. He exalts heroes or the homeland according to his feelings. He sings the beauty of an irresistible, captivating or ugly resplendent woman. He can also use the ambient desolation to give meaning to life. Creating in literature as in the arts in general does not depend on the situation. The act of creation depends on the creator’s disposition. Events paralyze some and galvanize others. Creating is enjoyable. Everyone therefore enjoys according to their own whim. Writing opens the way to change. The writer takes a different look at the world. By embedding himself in reality, he embellishes it, makes it better or hideous depending on the message he intends to share. All things considered, with him, life is never fixed. Writing is putting the world in a jar to travel the universe. The artist broods over his work in all weathers. Oswald Durand was delighted to see Choucoune’s beautiful body from his secret observatory. Musset, on the other hand, was in pain writing his October night. As for Dany Laferrière, in exile, he described the horrors of the Duvalier dictatorship and the carefree attitude of the young girls in his neighborhood in this violent and dangerous world. Ultimately, the writer lives in a society with values ​​that he shares or not. They condition his existence or have no hold on him. In many ways, the surrounding world serves as his laboratory. He carries out his experiments there. He casts a new, worn, disillusioned, melancholic, violent, bitter look at the world depending on his mood. Pitié is the work of an old soul crushed under the weight of an existence that tastes of absinthe. Young Mike Bernard Michel lives by expedients and lies. The hands of life fall on him with indescribable violence. Misfortune embraces him day and night. Should we give up? Musset liked to say: "Man is an apprentice, pain is his master. And no one knows himself until he has suffered." The artist must produce under all skies. Such is his vocation. Incompetents in power, legal or highway bandits, the high cost of living, unemployment, heartaches are all subjects of concern for him. If it is true that a hungry belly has no ears, the fact remains that it keeps the brain awake. What am I saying, it stimulates it to the point of creating timeless works. Mr. Pitié, you have a bright future ahead of you. Work of Jean Rony Charles, the book is available from Éditions Repérage.

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The Monferrier Dorval Chair of Constitutional Law, a gesture from the State University of Haiti, for the preservation of the memory of Professor Dorval

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History

History

First black nation to free itself from slavery and gain independence from France in 1804 and influenced other liberation movements around the world, inspiring struggles for freedom and equality.

Natural beauty

Natural beauty

Haïti is blessed with spectacular natural landscapes, including white sand beaches, mountains and rich biodiversity.

Heritage

Heritage

Haïti has a rich historical heritage, including sites like the Citadelle Laferrière and the Sans-Souci Palace, listed as UNESCO World Heritage Sites.

Culture

Culture

Haïti has a rich and diverse culture, influenced by African, European and indigenous elements. Haitian music, dance, art and cuisine are celebrated around the world.

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