by Brian Duffy, Linda Robinson, Kathie Klarreich, Bruce B. Auster, Tim Zimmermann, Joseph P. Shapiro, Matthew Cooper
Haiti is half an island, today something less than a whole country, 6 1/2 million souls inhabiting a downward spiral of economic misery and political mayhem. Born of a slave revolt 190 years ago, the Caribbean nation has seen its unique promise squandered by a nearly unbroken succession of brutal, corrupt and downright bizarre political leaders. For Americans, the place has long been a conundrum. Occupied by U.S. troops early in this century, blessed later by millions of dollars in American aid, Haiti has descended unswervingly into the current maelstrom, with Washington now actively considering the use of military force as a United Nations deadline ticks down before even tougher economic sanctions are imposed. Of no strategic importance, Haiti has somehow managed to confound every recent American president but Gerald Ford, who served so briefly he did not have to deal with it.
Now it is Bill Clinton's turn. Before he entered the Oval Office, Clinton, in discussing Haiti, conjured the sound of trumpet blasts. "My administration will stand up for democracy," Clinton said, denouncing George Bush's "cruel" policy of forcibly repatriating Haitian refugees. As for the military junta that forced out Haiti's only elected leader, the Rev. Jean-Bertrand Aristide, Clinton rejected its claim to leadership, saying he would work to "buttress democratic forces in Haiti ... and throughout the Western hemisphere."
Things have not worked out that way. An examination of the Clinton administration's posture toward Haiti shows a policy remarkable at once for the ambition of its goals -- and the timidity of its actions. As with other areas of foreign policy, Clinton's episodic attention troubles even some aides. "It's reacting to domestic politics," says a State Department official. "Now we are all trying to figure out how to make it work."
The White House vigorously defends its efforts in Haiti -- and in other foreign arenas where its policies have come under fire. "We came in here inheriting three very tough problems -- Haiti, Somalia and Bosnia," says an administration official. "They all deal with internal collapses -- unlike classic security issues; the rules are harder to define. In Haiti, the most important thing is that we refused to give up."
A review of the administration's Haiti policy highlights a number of problems. U.S. News reporters reviewed confidential government cables and memorandums and interviewed more than 30 administration officials, diplomats and military and intelligence officers, as well as aides and advisers to President Aristide. The review identifies a handful of critical decisions marred by miscommunication and logistical snafus. Principal findings:
A series of late-night phone calls between a presidential adviser and an Aristide aide weakened a key deal to forcibly remove Haiti's military leaders from power.
The decision to withdraw a U.S. Navy ship from Port-au-Prince, the capital of Haiti, was made without the knowledge of U.S. diplomats, who later cabled Washington saying the ship could have docked if given one more day.
A State Department cable and intelligence intercepts have questioned the heart of the Clinton administration's policy -- Aristide's democratic bona fides.
Although Clinton publicly promised to restore Aristide to office, administration officials were troubled by intercepts of phone calls from Aristide to his supporters vowing vengeance on his opponents after he returned to power.
While the administration's policy was built on the idea of pressuring Haiti's military rulers to step aside, the CIA consistently warned that the military leader, Lt. Gen. Raoul Cedras, and his cronies could be removed only by force.
Even before being sworn in as president, Bill Clinton made the first foreign policy decision of his administration, and it was on Haiti. Clinton's campaign pronouncements about reversing the Bush administration's repatriation policy on Haitian refugees had spawned an orgy of boat building in Haiti's impoverished coastal towns. A wave of Haitian refugees in Florida would be a disaster. Clinton made the announcement: The Bush repatriation policy would remain in effect. "Once the alternatives were explained to him," says Warren Zimmermann, then director of the State Department's Bureau for Refugee Programs, "it was a decision that made itself." What it wasn't, however, was a particularly auspicious beginning.
Father Aristide was not a congenial partner for Washington. After the Haitian military arranged Aristide's ouster in September 1991, a military adviser raided his medicine cabinet in the presidential quarters and provided a long list of its contents to the CIA. The new Haitian president, the CIA was told, was taking lithium and other drugs for treatment of mental depression. A letter, allegedly from a Haitian neurosurgeon, described Aristide as a "psychotic manic depressive" and referred to treatment Aristide had undergone in Canadian hospitals a decade earlier. Many details about the physician's report and the drugs -- none of the vials had Aristide's name on them -- were questioned. Today, Aristide's opponents still use the allegations against him and some analysts still question Aristide's reliability. "He can drive you crazy," says a State Department official who has worked closely with Aristide. "But that doesn't mean he is crazy."
Other evidence confirmed, however, that Aristide would be, at best, a difficult partner for the Clinton administration. In a speech days before he was toppled, as his supporters were being killed, Aristide described the practice of necklacing -- placing burning tires around the necks of his opponents as a "beautiful instrument." According to several informed sources, U.S. intelligence agencies also would intercept phone calls from Aristide in the United States pledging violent retribution against his opponents. Much has been made of the CIA's unflattering psychological profile of Aristide, but the more troubling parts of the intelligence community's reporting have to do with the instability that could ensue in Haiti if Aristide were returned.
President Clinton had been briefed thoroughly on these and other aspects of the Haiti situation before his first meeting with Aristide in the White House on March 16, 1993. Clinton was committed, he said, to "stronger measures" to restore Aristide to power. "I want to make it clear in the strongest possible terms," Clinton said, "that we will not now or ever support the continuation of an illegal government in Haiti."
The fly in the ointment. The next step seemed pretty straightforward. Since the fly in the Haitian ointment was the military, the thing to do was remove it. Working closely with Lawrence Pezzullo, then Clinton's special envoy to Haiti, a Pentagon team led by a charismatic Marine lieutenant general named Jack Sheehan, who first set foot in Haiti in 1964 and knew it well, would take on the job of remaking Haiti's military. Their plan called for a United Nations team to transform Haiti's 7,000-man military into a smaller force that would concentrate on rebuilding Haiti's shattered infrastructure and patrolling its long border with the Dominican Republic on the island of Hispaniola. Canadian authorities would take the lead in building a new civilian Haitian police force.
Things began lurching ahead. The "transformation" plan for the Haitian military was approved by then-Secretary of Defense Les Aspin. President Clinton announced tougher sanctions against the Haitian military in June 1993. Soon, a deal seemed in prospect. Aristide had two principal demands. Unlike the Clinton administration, which had adopted its predecessor's gradualist approach on tightening economic sanctions, Aristide wanted the toughest sanctions possible imposed -- but for only a short time. More important, Aristide was convinced that General Cedras and his colleagues would never relinqui
