During the first half of the 1980s, in the early days of the HIV pandemic, one ethnic group in the United States faced particularly inhumane and biased treatment. Haitian immigrants, unfairly blamed as the originators or leading propagators of the virus, were lumped into the “Four Hs” of people said to be at a high risk for AIDS: “homosexuals, heroin users, hemophiliacs, and Haitians.” To help contain the virus, the prominent right-wing commentator William F. Buckley argued in a 1986 article in the New York Times that people with AIDS should be tattooed to keep the public safe from contact with them.
In a horrifying throwback to that era, the notion of Haitians representing a public health threat has been revived in the current U.S. presidential campaign season. Most prominently, during last week’s debate with Vice President Kamala Harris, former President Donald Trump repeated a baseless claim that Haitian immigrants in the small city of Springfield, Ohio, are eating other people’s household pets. It’s bad enough that Trump and his running mate, J.D. Vance, have made these vile and unfounded claims. But Vance, the junior senator from Ohio, has also warned that Haitians are spreading HIV.
(Asterisks, footnotes, and even parentheses are usually ill-suited to column writing, but one must wonder whether Trump and Vance are aware of the irony of raising animal abuse claims when one of their most important surrogates, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., has acknowledged that he dumped a dead bear cub in New York’s Central Park years ago; one of Kennedy’s daughters has also said that he once severed a whale head and brought it home.)
After nearly a week of discussion and uproar about the groundless statements about Haitians eating pets, Vance finally admitted on Sunday what people familiar with the facts suspected all along: He had “created” the claims against the Haitian community of Springfield outright to focus national attention on what the Republican Party sees as one of its most potent election issues, immigration.
One question that arises from this incident is why Haitians have been so frequently used as scapegoats for national problems and vehicles for scaremongering in the United States. As it turns out, anti-Haitian discrimination is a topic rich in history.
My first encounter with this was in the early 1990s, when I lived in Miami as a bureau chief for the New York Times covering the Caribbean and parts of Latin America. At a time of political instability, widespread violence, and the specter of famine in Haiti, the Clinton administration severely restricted Haitians’ ability to enter the United States as refugees or beneficiaries of political asylum. As coverage in one Florida newspaper summarized at the time, “Haitians picked up at sea will not be allowed into the United States, period.”
In that period, the U.S. Coast Guard intercepted desperate Haitians en route to the United States and took them to the U.S. base at Guantanamo Bay in Cuba and to other Caribbean Basin countries, where they sheltered in rudimentary camps awaiting processing and return to Haiti. Even those who wished to press claims of legitimate fear of persecution, a common benchmark for asylum, had to do so back in Haiti.
Living in Florida, what stood out to me as much as the restrictive spirit of these rules was how sharply the treatment of Haitians contrasted with that of a neighboring Caribbean people: Cubans, who fled their country for economic and political reasons the previous decade in the so-called Mariel Boatlift, a much larger exodus by sea. In 1984, four years after the arrival of many thousands of Cubans, Washington granted these refugees permanent legal status. (Between 1994 and 1996, however, the Clinton administration held around 30,000 intercepted Cubans at Guantanamo, breaking temporarily with a long-standing U.S. policy of receiving Cuban migrants with relatively open arms.)
Washington initially denied equal treatment to a smaller population of Haitians who also arrived in 1980, as it insisted they were ordinary economic refugees, not people facing political persecution. Only after pressure from human rights groups were Haitians allowed to apply for permanent residency under the Immigration Reform and Control Act of 1986.
Americans have seldom paused to ponder what drives attitudes toward Haitians that are frequently at odds with those toward immigrants of other nearby nations. If his goal had been simply to stir up anti-immigration sentiment to boost the Republican ticket, Vance could have targeted people from a country that has contributed far more to illegal immigration lately—say, Venezuela or China. It is not as if Trump has not slandered other groups with unfounded claims. Indeed, he launched his first presidential campaign in 2015 with wild rhetoric about Mexico deliberately sending rapists to the United States.
A panel discussion on CNN last week may have captured some of the current Trump-Vance logic. One of the participants asked another why Trump had chosen Haitians—and not, say, Scandinavians—for his obnoxious tall tale. The other panelist, a conservative strategist, refused to speculate, leading the person who asked the question to answer it herself, attributing the decision to racism. Unlike Cubans, for example, who predominantly identify as white, around 95 percent of Haitians are Black.
Many popular attitudes toward race and immigration can be traced back to something called the Teutonic germ theory, a popular 19th-century interpretation that, despite its name, had nothing to do with microbes. As the historian Greg Grandin has written, this theory “held that what was good and strong about American institutions germinated in Europe, in ancient Saxon and Teutonic villages filled with freemen not yet subordinated to feudal lords.” Put simply, thoughts like this lie behind very old and uninspected ideas that still often associate “real” Americanism and hard work and virtue with Anglo-Saxonism.
For xenophobes and demagogic politicians such as Trump and Vance, who wish to whip up anti-immigrant sentiment for political gain, Haitians have come to represent a convenient and dramatic contrast to the proverbial Anglo-Saxon: Haitians, for reasons of their blackness, are an ideal “other.”
One other thing that most Americans don’t realize is how deep hostility and antagonism toward Haiti and Haitians run in U.S. history. Press coverage of Haiti routinely highlights its status as the “poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.” What reporters usually fail to state would be more helpful to understanding the country’s relationship with Washington: Haiti, after the United States, is the second-oldest republic in the hemisphere.
In the 1700s, French traders brought people in chains from Africa to Saint-Domingue, as Haiti was known at the time, to grow sugar and other lucrative commodities. The colony became a principal source of wealth for France, and experts say the production of enslaved human beings made Haiti the richest colony in the history of the world. Then, in 1791, one of the greatest events in modern history occurred. As I wrote in my book, Born in Blackness: Africa, Africans, and the Making of the Modern World, 1471 to the Second World War, people brought from Africa revolted against their enslavement, and by turns defeated the great empires of the age—France, Spain, Britain, and then France again—to win their liberty.
In 1804, when France’s former chattel proclaimed the birth of Haiti, they did so with a constitution that outlawed slavery, a gigantic step in human enlightenment that preceded abolition in both Britain and the United States. What is more, the people of this newborn nation outlawed discrimination on the basis of race altogether, a revolutionary achievement that was still being fought for in the United States in my lifetime.
The Western response to Haitian liberation was a shameful one. France imposed onerous and long-lasting indemnities on Haiti for the supposed injury caused to it by the outbreak of human freedom. Meanwhile, Europe and the United States conspired to isolate Haiti diplomatically and economically. Washington’s preoccupation with Haiti was particularly dishonorable. Members of the Virginia planter class that predominated in U.S. politics worried that the example of Haitians could incite Black people in the American South to demand—and potentially fight for—their own liberation. They believed that stories about Haiti’s success should not be allowed to spread.
U.S. policy has long been tolerant to the idea of immigration from European countries, but much less so toward people from the so-called third world. Because of this bias, upheld in education and entertainment that normalizes European society and culture, popular opinion seems to ask, what do those other peoples have to do with us? In the case of Haiti, the answer is much more than many think. Reaching Trump and Vance with this message may be hopeless, but it is not too late for Americans to understand that they are not alone as the standard-bearers of freedom in their neighborhood, and that they haven’t always been on the right side. Haitians, too, have been pioneers of liberty, not only for themselves, but showing the way to others. It is time for us to treat them with respect and dignity.
The post Why Trump and Vance Are Scapegoating Haitians appeared first on Foreign Policy.
