Monday, Jul. 04, 1988

Haiti Going from a Sham to a Farce

By Jill Smolowe

As late-night viewing goes, it was startling fare. Just after 1 a.m., Haitian television screens were suddenly filled with the image of Lieut. General Henri Namphy, wearing a steel helmet and flanked by soldiers. "Everybody is now in the army because it is this army that is going to lead this country," he shouted, brandishing a submachine gun. Namphy, speaking live from Haiti's National Palace, was pronouncing himself President of a new military government. Hours earlier, soldiers had driven up to the palace and fired bursts of gunfire into the air while Namphy seized control. Five miles away, other troops surrounded the home of President Leslie Manigat, who promptly surrendered and was flown with his family into exile in the Dominican Republic. Thus Manigat's civilian rule, which had begun just 130 days earlier as an electoral sham, ended as a military farce.

The bloodless coup capped a week-long power struggle between the President and his army commander-in-chief. Once again the big losers were the Haitian people, who continue to endure one of the world's lowest standards of living (annual per capita income: $333) and who have gained little from the top- level game of musical chairs that began with the February 1986 ouster of Jean- Claude ("Baby Doc") Duvalier. Said an embittered young woman waiting at a Port-au-Prince bus depot last week: "Nothing has really changed. We remain with nothing." The mood was cautious in Washington, where the Reagan Administration, instrumental in the toppling of Duvalier, has staked considerable prestige on establishing a democratic government in Haiti.

The spark of optimism ignited by Duvalier's departure had flickered uneasily through the excesses of a provisional government headed by Namphy. But when election day arrived last November, all hopes for a peaceful transition to democracy were dashed when the balloting gave way to a bloodbath. Nearly two months later, Manigat was declared the winner of a second election, in which * less than 10% of the voters took part. Last week few mourned his fate. "For the people, Manigat was a puppet of the army," says the Rev. Antoine Adrian, a Catholic priest in Port-au-Prince.

The drama began a week earlier, when Namphy attempted to reassign Colonel Jean-Claude Paul, a Manigat loyalist who was indicted in Miami three months ago on drug-trafficking charges. But Paul balked at being transferred to a less important military post, and was backed up by Manigat, who rescinded Namphy's order. Two days later, the President dismissed Namphy himself for "insubordination." Attempting to consolidate his power, Manigat had Namphy placed under house arrest and announced the reassignment or retirement of 37 officers.

Manigat's fatal error may have been to shift the powerful Colonel Prosper Avril from the head of the presidential guard to an insignificant desk job. Avril, 50, a veteran schemer with close ties to the old Duvalier regime, is thought to have engineered last week's coup. Promoted to brigadier general after the takeover, Avril is widely believed to be the guiding force behind the military regime.

Ever the land of intrigue, Haiti is rife with theories about what happened and why. Many believe that Manigat, eager to assert his own authority over the army, simply moved too fast in his attempt to shake up the military's high command. Others assert that the initiative came from army commanders made uneasy by Manigat's campaign to stamp out corruption and contraband, a major source of income for many military men. According to this theory, Namphy was merely a pawn, forced into action by his own men. Others point to a Machiavellian third possibility: that the coup was a brilliantly executed scheme in which the military feigned an internal split to force Manigat to act rashly. The last theory assumes that Namphy and Paul were actually co- conspirators. Farfetched as that may seem, it was striking to see Paul, presumably in an act of self-preservation, standing at Namphy's side the morning after the coup.

From his exile in Santo Domingo, Manigat appeared to discredit the notion of a conspiracy between Namphy and Paul. He claimed that Namphy had moved against Paul because the colonel had arrested ten soldiers loyal to Namphy, allegedly for their involvement in terrorist activities. Late last week Paul's future remained uncertain. A Haitian businessman with ties to the military said that Paul was making inquiries about countries he might escape to that have no extradition treaties with the U.S. or Haiti.

U.S. officials, who had consistently downplayed the signs of impending trouble in Haiti, were also trying to piece together what had happened. "We just don't know much about the internal workings of the Haitian military," conceded a State Department official. Calling the coup a "serious blow to hopes for democracy" in Haiti, the U.S. declared its intention to work with the new government. Washington continued to withhold $75 million in direct aid, which was suspended after the November election.

Namphy's future course is unclear. He has not announced plans for elections and does not appear to have an agenda, beyond putting his cronies back in their old jobs. If the need for U.S. funds becomes desperate, he may make some tentative moves toward democratic rule. The more likely prospect is grimmer: an extended military dictatorship, perhaps marked by the return of Duvalierist forces or even an outbreak of civil war. As for the Haitian people, they continue to do what they do best: wait and suffer

With reporting by Ricardo Chavira/Washington and Cristina Garcia/Port-au-Prince