This content downloaded from 129.128.216.34 on Wed, 10 Feb 2021 19:34:20 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms The Haitians This content downloaded from 129.128.216.34 on Wed, 10 Feb 2021 19:34:20 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms A book in the series Latin Amer i ca in Translation / en Traducción / em Tradução This book was sponsored by the Consortium in Latin American and Car ib bean Studies at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and Duke University. This content downloaded from 129.128.216.34 on Wed, 10 Feb 2021 19:34:20 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms The Haitians A Decolonial History Jean Casimir Translated by Laurent Dubois With a Foreword by Walter D. Mignolo The University of North Carolina Press Chapel Hill This content downloaded from 129.128.216.34 on Wed, 10 Feb 2021 19:34:20 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms Translation of the books in the series Latin Amer i ca in Translation / en Traducción / em Tradução, a collaboration between the Consortium in Latin American and Ca rib bean Studies at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and Duke University and the university presses of the University of North Carolina and Duke, is supported by a grant from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation. © 2020 The University of North Carolina Press Foreword © 2020 Walter D. Mignolo All rights reserved Set in Adobe Text Pro by Westchester Publishing Ser vices Manufactured in the United States of Amer i ca The University of North Carolina Press has been a member of the Green Press Initiative since 2003. Library of Congress Cataloging- in- Publication Data Names: Casimir, Jean, author. | Dubois, Laurent, 1971– translator. | Mignolo, Walter, writer of foreword. Title: The Haitians : a decolonial history / Jean Casimir ; translated by Laurent Dubois ; with a foreword by Walter D. Mignolo. Other titles: Latin Amer i ca in translation/en traducción/em tradução. Description: Chapel Hill : University of North Carolina Press, 2020. | Series: Latin Amer i ca in translation/en traducción/em tradução | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020022322 | ISBN 9781469651545 (cloth : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781469660486 (paperback : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781469660493 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Sovereignty. | Haiti— Politics and government. | Haiti— History. | Haiti— Colonization— History. Classification: LCC F1921 .C267 2020 | DDC 972.94— dc23 LC rec ord available at https:// lccn . loc . gov / 2020022322 Cover illustration: Laurent Casimir (Haitian, 1928–1990), Crowded Market (1972, oil on Masonite, 36" x 48"), Milwaukee Art Museum, gift of Richard and Erna Flagg, M1991.117. Photograph by Larry Sanders, used by permission of the Milwaukee Art Museum. Photographer credit: Larry Sanders This content downloaded from 129.128.216.34 on Wed, 10 Feb 2021 19:34:20 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms Contents Foreword, vii Thinking Decoloniality beyond One Nation– One State Preface and Acknowl edgments, xvii Translator’s Note, xxv Chapter 1 Introduction, 1 Perspective Chapter 2 Resisting the Production of Sufferers, 26 Chapter 3 Colonial Thought, 69 Chapter 4 Slaves or Peasants, 101 Chapter 5 The Pursuit of Impossible Segregation, 134 Chapter 6 The Citizen Property Owner, 187 Chapter 7 Public Order and Communal Order, 221 Chapter 8 The Power and Beauty of the Sovereign People, 264 Chapter 9 An In de pen dent State without a Sovereign People, 306 Chapter 10 The State in the Nineteenth Century, 352 Notes, 395 Bibliography, 403 Index, 415 This content downloaded from 129.128.216.34 on Wed, 10 Feb 2021 19:34:47 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms This page intentionally left blank This content downloaded from 129.128.216.34 on Wed, 10 Feb 2021 19:34:47 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms Foreword Thinking Decoloniality beyond One Nation– One State Walter D. Mignolo I In her celebrated TED talk, “The Danger of a Single Story,” Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie makes a power ful po liti cal statement, a politics that no doubt touches the core of the well- crafted discourses of scholarship, journalism, state, banks, and corporations. She asserts that individuals’ single stories are dangerous not only because the storyteller ( whether scholar, journalist, banker, or officer of the state) acts on the assumption of the truth, without any parentheses, of what the story conveys (what the storyteller “says”), but also b ecause the storyteller assumes that t here is only one place to start the story. Adichie captured this second aspect of storytelling ( whether scientific, scholarly, journalistic, literary, po liti cal, economic) when she underscored that stories truly depend on where you start. She gave a c ouple of examples, and I w ill paraphrase one: if you start from asserting the failure of state build- ing in Africa, you may very well end up justifying colonialism. If you start from the fact that state building in Africa truly comprised a colony of Eu ro- pean imperialisms (a map of Africa in 1900, a de cade and a half a fter the Ber- lin Conference, reveals that there is not one single corner of the continent that was not u nder the control and management of Eu ro pean countries), then you may very well end up apprehending and understanding the lies that jus- tified and continue to justify colonialism. That is, you may very well end up disparaging and critiquing the lies of modernity (such as conversion to Chris- tian ity, pro gress, the “civilizing mission,” and development). This is precisely what Jean Casimir’s argument in this book, as well as in his previous publications, intends to do: to expose the limits (and the dan- gers sometimes) of extant stories and interpretations of Hispaniola, Saint Domingue, and fi nally Haiti (three diff er ent names that erased, from the early arrival of Spanish ships, the name that the Tainos had for their territory— Ayiti). The analytic story that Casimir offers to us as “la merveilleuse inven- tion of Haiti” is precisely that: the renaming and territorial reconfiguration of a trajectory that started with the Spanish genocides of the Taínos; followed by the French appropriation of a sector of the islands the Spaniards called This content downloaded from 129.128.216.34 on Wed, 10 Feb 2021 19:34:56 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms Hispaniola and the French called Saint-D omingue; and a fter 1804 ( after a revolution that lasted from 1791 to 1804), the revolutionaries’ adoption of the name Haiti to honor the memories of the indigenous inhabitants of the island, before indigenous p eople from Eu rope invaded and exterminated them. The question is who are the Haitian revolutionaries, what shall we under- stand by the term Haitian Revolution? The answer to this question would de- pend on where you start from. Would you start from the well- known heroes of the revolution Jean- Jacques Dessalines, Toussaint Louverture, and Henry Christophe, who confronted France’s management of the island but without questioning the nation- state form that they wanted to create, or from the first president of Haiti, a fter the assassination of Dessalines, Alexandre Pétion and his conciliatory politics with the French government? Well, it so happened that Casimir starts from neither of those points: he starts from the “power and beauty of the sovereign p eople.” Beyond the official stories we are used to and which are identified by proper names (the proper names I mentioned), there are the silences of the past—in the happy formulation of Michel- Rolph Trouillot, la beaute du peuple souverain. Here precisely is where Casimir starts: If readers ask what I have learned from writing this book that I now offer to them, my answer is that above all, in how I live my personal life, I no longer see my ancestors as former slaves. I d on’t even think of them as a dominated class. Their misery is only the most superficial aspect of their real ity. It is the real ity that colonialists prefer to emphasize, along with those among them who oppose the cruelty of some colonists but don’t ultimately reject colonization itself. Having finished this book, I have come to realize that my ancestors, as individuals and as a group, never stopped resisting slavery and domination. I am the child of a collective of fighters, not of the vanquished. I have chosen to venerate them, to honor t hese captives reduced to slavery, and those emancipated in thanks for their military ser vice to colonialism. I do so despite their errors and their occasional failures. (chapter 1; emphasis added) The statement is crucial to understand Casimir’s argument both in what he says and in his saying, in what he enunciates and in the enunciations he builds, which I emphasized in italics in the previous sentences. The statement is crucial also because Casimir plays the game of scholarship (his archive is solid, his so cio log i cal training and practices of historiographical sociology through the years has been impeccable) but at the same time, he disobeys it. And herein is the force of his argument: the moment that he uses scholarship to advance the cause of the “sovereign people” instead of using the “sover- eign p eople” to advance scholarship. Casimir, as is clear in the statement and viii Foreword This content downloaded from 129.128.216.34 on Wed, 10 Feb 2021 19:34:56 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms through the argument, let himself be guided by his emotions (“I am the child of a collective of fighters, not of the vanquished”) exposed in his reasoning. It depends on where you start from: if you start from the heroes and main- tain the silence of the “sovereign p eople,” you remain within the colonial poli- tics of knowledge. If you shift the geography of reasoning and let it be guided by your emotions, you engage in the growing pro cesses nowadays of decolo- nial politics of knowing, sensing, and believing. II “C aptives reduced to slavery”— another crucial distinction that reinforces Casimir’s putting up from his locus enunciationi, which is normatively silenced in any of the existing disciplines: disciplines promote objectivity and direct your attention to the said while veiling the act of saying. Consequently, Casimir proposes “a decolonial reading” of the invention, formation, and transformation of “the Haitian p eople” since 1804, but one grounded in the experiences and shared memories, mainly orally transmitted (no archives for historians h ere), of the daily praxis of living in re- existence, building the com- munal in spite of state politics, in any of their variety from 1804 to today. How could “the p eople” have gained and maintained its sovereignty? Two dis- tinctive praxes of living emerge from Casimir’s argument. One is explicit and explained in detail in chapter 7: the question of language. While French language remained the official language of the state of Haiti, Creole remained the language of the “sovereign p eople.” Throughout the period of the French monarchic state before 1789 as well as the succeeding bourgeois French suc- cessions of republics and empires, “the sovereign p eople,” though captive and physically enslaved, never surrendered and therefore w ere never captive or enslaved in the sphere of language. As Casimir states, “All be hav ior implies knowledge” (chapter 8). What we, all of us human beings, know is the outcome not so much of what we see or read, but of what we do (by will or force) and share in storytelling and con- versations from the moment we come into this world, in what ever region and moment one is born. For t hose who w ere born in Africa, in any of the exist- ing kingdoms, languages, and systems of belief (religions), and w ere captured, transported, and enslaved in New World plantations, their d oing was marked by the experience of being hunted, of being transported, and being enslaved. For their descendants, it was the experience in the New World as captive and enslaved, u ntil the revolution started in 1791 at Bwa Kayiman. All of that built a memory alien to French schooling before the revolution and French- style schooling after the revolution: French language and Chris tian ity remained alien to “the sovereign p eople” for whom the Creole language and Vodou spir- ituality became the glue of the communal re- existence. Thinking Decoloniality beyond One Nation– One State ix This content downloaded from 129.128.216.34 on Wed, 10 Feb 2021 19:34:56 UTC All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms