22195: Esser: A literal army of trouble (fwd)

[Bob Corbett <corbetre@webster.edu>]

From: D. Esser: torx@joimail.com

New York Newsday
http://www.nynewsday.com

June 1, 2004

HAITI AFTER ARISTIDE


A literal army of trouble
BY LETTA TAYLER
LATIN AMERICA CORRESPONDENT


MIREBALAIS, Haiti - In this hardscrabble town in the Haitian
hinterlands, armed members of the country's disbanded military serve
as mayor, police chief, judge and jury.

Dressed in uniforms from the army of the neighboring Dominican
Republic, former Haitian soldiers patrol the streets by foot and on
motor scooter. They march in parades. They hold the keys to the jail
and sit behind the police chief's desk, taking crime reports.

"We're the ones in charge," declared former Cpl. Jean Hubert Marcelin
from the Mirebalais police station, which ex-soldiers commandeered in
March. "We're proud to be performing a revolutionary mission to
change the country."

Despite the deployment of a U.S.-led coalition of 3,700 international
peacekeeping troops in Haiti, thousands of ex-soldiers who ousted
Haitian President Jean-Bertrand Aristide three months ago control
vast portions of this desperately poor and troubled nation.

Of the myriad problems facing post-Aristide Haiti, none is as
daunting as that of taming and disarming the rebels, who are becoming
increasingly vocal in their demands to be recognized as a legitimate
army.

Many Haiti experts fear the ex-soldiers, including some who've been
convicted or accused of brutal human rights abuses, will seek to
consolidate their power further when the U.S.-led military force
begins leaving the country today in a pullout that will be completed
by June 30.

"Impunity reigns," said Dan Erikson, a Haiti expert with
Inter-American Dialogue, a think tank in Washington, D.C. "The armed
actors are becoming the de-facto power structure outside of the
capital. The longer they remain, the harder they could be to
dislodge."

Even U.S. Ambassador James B. Foley, a key player here in Haiti in
recent months, recently conceded that the interim government of Prime
Minister Gerald Latortue is "outgunned."

Foley said an 8,000-strong United Nations peacekeeping force that is
to replace the U.S.-led troops could be better equipped to keep the
rebels "in check." But so far, only 2,350 troops and police have
signed on to the UN force, which is viewed widely as being even less
interested in the messy task of disarmament than the U.S.-led
coalition, which hasn't even entered many rebel strongholds in the
interior.

"If the interim government were to move against the rebels, there
would be a backlash, and the international forces don't want to send
their troops against them because they might face casualties," said
one foreign diplomat with extensive knowledge of Haiti.

Rebels want recognition

The rebels, who claim to have between 2,500 and 5,000 members, say
they won't disarm unless the government recognizes them, pays them
pensions that Aristide owed them and protects the country from armed
gangs of Aristide supporters.

"Why should the [former] military give up its weapons when it is the
only force providing security in much of the country?" asked Guy
Philippe, the rebel leader who spearheaded the armed revolt against
Aristide and who formed the political party National Reconstruction
Front two weeks ago.

Latortue, who in March called the rebels "freedom fighters" - a
statement he has since retracted - said it must be up to the elected
government that is to succeed him next year to negotiate the
military's fate.

U.S.-led troops have brought a considerable measure of stability to
Haiti and, in the past week, have spearheaded critical missions to
help communities destroyed by massive floods. But they've been unable
to stem mounting chaos and despair that could fuel armed conflicts
between Aristide foes and fans.

Most of the 3,000 prison inmates who were freed during the
ex-military's revolt roam the country, some of them raping and
pillaging. Drug traffickers who use Haiti to ship cocaine to the
United States continue their work virtually unchecked. Aristide's
Lavalas party claims its members have been illegally imprisoned,
forced from their homes or even killed by rebels or other foes of the
ex-president.

With government coffers empty, telephones rarely work, electricity is
scarce and mountains of garbage fester, uncollected. Soaring food
prices have aggravated already rampant hunger and fueled calls in the
slums for the return of Aristide, who has been exiled to South Africa.

"Under Aristide, we paid seven gourdes [19 cents] for a cup of rice,
and now we pay 25 gourdes [69 cents]," said Marie Nelio, a rail-thin
grandmother who sells tea on a street corner in Cité Soleil, a slum
in the capital of Port-au-Prince. She shook a tin teacup furiously.

"Bring back Aristide so we can eat!" yelled several passersby. They
angrily echoed Aristide's claim that the United States forced him out
- a charge Washington denies.

Police force seen as key

Hoping to temper the discontent, the United States is sending $100
million in emergency aid to Haiti this month. Economic experts said
the funds, while welcome, will be little more than a quick fix.

Most foreign observers believe the key to stemming violence in Haiti
is to rebuild its poorly trained and under-armed police force, which
currently numbers about 2,000 in this nation of 8 million. New York
City, with a comparable population, has 36,000 police. However, there
has been little international aid forthcoming for that task. And
fears are widespread that corrupt former military officials, who in
recent months have found backers in many interim government offices,
will infiltrate the police.

Haiti's military has a history of helping topple presidents,
including Aristide in 1991. After U.S. troops returned Aristide to
power three years later, the Haitian president disbanded all of the
army but its marching band. But he never dissolved the clause in the
constitution that calls for a military.

Still, the rebels have a huge following among Haitians desperate for
law and order, who have staged demonstrations or sacrificed animals
at voodoo ceremonies on their behalf.

"With the military we can live in peace," said Solange Alexis, owner
of the Original Restaurant in Mirebalais, a town of 25,000 just 25
miles northeast of Port-au-Prince along an almost impassible road
where no multinational forces are deployed. Until the rebels' arrival
in March, Alexis said, gangs of the exiled president's supporters had
robbed at will.

But some residents, who were too frightened to give their names, said
the military had terrorized members of Aristide's Lavalas party,
which had governed Mirebalais, prompting many to flee, including the
town council.

Now, graffiti reading "Aba Aristide!" - Creole for "Down with
Aristide!" - adorns buildings surrounding Mirebalais' bedraggled
plaza.

Brandishing assault rifles, the rebels also rounded up, disarmed and
dismissed the town's eight police officers, residents said. A new,
six-man police force arrived a couple of weeks ago, but with 50 armed
ex-military having taken over their office and duties, it appeared to
be mainly window dressing.

"We couldn't do our job without the soldiers," said police officer
Joanis Ogeroi, who has no gun. He spoke nervously, his eyes peeled on
former Sgt. Luis Jacques, who was sitting behind the police desk,
resolving disputes among feuding families or instructing complainants
to appear in court when an ex-military officer would be present to
"assist" a judge.

The government must move quickly either to recognize the military or
to change the constitution to ban them, said Father Louis Faublas,
Mirebalais' parish priest. "Otherwise," he warned, "there could be
chaos."

Copyright © 2004, Newsday, Inc.
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