Tightening The Screws

By MARGUERITE MICHAELS

Uniformed soldiers tried to keep order as long lines snaked through the mustard-and-brown terminal. Tempers flared when priority passengers (including families of military officers) pushed to the front, while others found that their seats had been sold. The chaos at Port-au-Prince's airport reflected the rising tensions in Haiti, as the last flights left the country before a U.S.-imposed ban ban on commercial air travel went into effect at midnight.

The flight shutdown was the latest move designed to further pressure the military leaders who ousted President Jean-Bertrand Aristide. Earlier in the week the Clinton Administration widened the freeze on Haitian financial assets in the U.S. to include not just the military, but all citizens. Meanwhile, reports circulated that the U.S. was offering big cash for Lieut. General Raoul Cedras and his cronies to simply leave the country. The State Department would neither confirm nor deny the rumors, but they clearly were sowing seeds of doubt among the military rank and file about whether their officers would still be around if and when U.S. troops invade.

The divide-and-conquer tactics have affected the military leaders too. According to sources close to the ruling clique, relations between Cedras and police chief Michel Francois are increasingly strained. "A few weeks ago I would have said the chances of the military leaving voluntarily were nil," says a Haitian political analyst, "but now the chances of them leaving are increasing." Concerned about morale, Cedras made an impromptu tour of military posts around the country, while Haitian officers worked the country's dilapidated phone system, spreading the "news" that the Pentagon, CIA and supporters in the U.S. Senate would force Clinton to back down from an invasion. Trying to whip up national fervor, the Haitian government peppered popular state-TV broadcasts of the World Cup soccer games with newsreel footage of the 1989 U.S. invasion of Panama. A message in Creole ran across the bottom of the TV screen: "No to the occupation. Point out the traitors among us."

Keeping a united front remained as much a problem in Washington as in Haiti. Still biting the hand that's trying to free him, exiled President Aristide argued against a U.S. plan to transmit prodemocracy radio messages from military airplanes if the messages urge Haitians not to flee the country. And human-rights advocate Randall Robinson, after spending time on the American hospital ship where Haitian refugees are being questioned, declared the immigration process a sham. So far only 52 of the 289 refugees interviewed at sea have been granted refugee status.

Meanwhile, clandestine resistance cells are already operational in Carrefour, the vast slum in the capital city that remains a principal bastion of support for the exiled President. Plans have been made to place burning cars at key intersections, blocking any moves by the military to defend itself. Angry Haitians like 30-year-old Pierre, whose right arm is scarred and twisted from a fight with the police, are wooing restive elements of the army to join them when the U.S. helicopters come. Says he: "We sleep with one eye toward the sky."

With reporting by Edward Barnes and Cathy Booth/Port-au-Prince