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DISKUS Vol. 8 (2007)
http://www.basr.ac.uk/diskus/diskus8/schmidt.htm

Misuse of a Religion: Vodou as Political Power Rooted in ‘Magic’ and ‘Sorcery’

Bettina E. Schmidt

School of Theology and Religious Studies

Bangor University, UK

Email b.schmidt@bangor.ac.uk

Abstract

The Haitian popular religion Vodou still provokes hostile reaction though its practice became decriminalised in 1987. The reasons for this are twofold; one can be traced back to the founding time of Haiti, the other to the twentieth century, to the time of the Duvaliers’ government. This article will explore the connection between Vodou and the Duvaliers, in particular their faithful helpers, the Volunteers for National Security (the Tonton Macoutes). It will discuss why the relationship between a religious system and its images influence the perception of religion and its practitioners up until the present day.

Introduction

The Haitian religion Vodou inspired the imagination of outsiders from its beginning. During the time of enslavement, African slaves were regarded as non-humans who needed no clerical care and had no religion. African customs were regarded with horror by slave holders: drums symbolised Africa, supernatural power, black magic, and consequently – in the eyes of Europeans – rebellion against the presumed superiority of the European ‘civilisation’ of the slave-holder societies. The Haitian revolution, which is assumed to have started with a Vodou ceremony, became seen as the ‘proof’ for this chain of argument.

However, even more harmful for the reception of Vodou today has been the way it was treated during the twentieth century. Under the dictatorship of the Duvaliers Vodou became connected to the dictatorial suppression of the Haitian people. François Duvalier built a network of Vodou priests he used as informers, some even became agents of his secret paramilitary force, the ‘Volontaires de la Sécurite Nationale’ (Volunteers for National Security, VNS), known also by the nickname ‘Tonton Macoutes’. Even today it is difficult to categorise the VNS within the Haitian political system. Haiti at that time had ‘blurred boundaries’ <1> between state and non-state, between legitimate and illegitimate. Though it was sometimes not possible to distinguish between the official army and the VNS (they used the same buildings, the same infrastructure, they even had in some towns the same members), the VNS never represented the legitimate political force. They were not part of the army or the police or any other kind of public institution, but acted according to the wishes of the president. Hence the VNS can be regarded as an example of vigilantism that did not challenge the state’s monopoly (the usual characteristic of vigilantes) but enforced it from an unofficial, illegitimate base. The Tonton Macoutes gained power after an attempt to overthrow Duvalier’s government, hence at a time when the president started to fear he might lose his power. In order to maintain power he increasingly sought the assistance of the Tonton Macoutes. Using Walter Benjamin’s categorisation, they conducted ‘law-preserving’ violence in order to support Duvalier’s government. <2> Duvalier increasingly referred to Haitian religious traditions, though whether he did this in order to expand the recognition of Vodou or to spread fear among the people is a contentious issue. Whatever his reason might have been, the result was that Vodou became recognised as a political power rooted in magic and sorcery, leading to a violent uprising against Vodou priests after the end of the dictatorship in 1986. However, the hatred of the suppressed population had little to do with the religion but everything to do with the political system.

In this article I will explore the relationship between a popular religion and its images, images which still influence the way Haitians are regarded today. Though in 1987 the punishment for practising Vodou was finally removed and Vodou became decriminalised under the new constitution, serving the spirits still provokes hostile reactions. Even the recognition of Vodou as Haiti’s national religion (in 2003) could not change this attitude. I will explain why the Tonton Macoutes (or, more precisely, François Duvalier) were so successful in their manipulation of Vodou in order to secure their power. My focus is on the religion and its involvement in the regime.

Vodou as Haitian Religion

Vodou is a term that is often misunderstood. Alfred Métraux writes ‘Some exotic words are loaded with great conjuring power. “Vodou” is one of them. It creates mostly visions of mysterious death, secret rites or saturnalia celebrated by the blacks “enraptured by blood, sex and God”.’ <3> Despite all efforts to present the empirical reality of the Haitian religion, the stigmatisation of Vodou persists up to the present day, in particular in the U.S.A., but also in Europe and elsewhere. More than any other Afro-American religion, Vodou suffers from the negative image maintained by outsiders.

The origins of Vodou are connected to the transatlantic slave trade. From the beginnings of the European conquest, slaves were transported to the colonies in the Caribbean such as Hispaniola initially from Europe, but soon directly from the African coast. During the transport people from different ethnic and religious backgrounds were put together in the ships and later in the slave barracks. Some believed in Allah, some in ancestor spirits, some in local deities; some were organised according to a patrilineal system, others by a matrilineal one; some spoke a Yoruba dialect, some Hausa, some Ewe, some Fon, or a Bantu language. Hence, from the beginning, from the time of their capture, people had to find a common language, a new social network, and a new common set of cultural symbols. The passage created an individualisation among the enslaved Africans who were forced out of their social context, transported together with people from other groups under horrible circumstances over the Atlantic and then had to work together with other slaves within inhuman conditions until their death in a hostile environment. African men and women were treated as non-human goods. <4> But together they creatively forged new traditions by binding together their old ones with new found influences. For example, the melding of religious and medical traditions was important for their survival in the slave barracks; it enabled the slaves to retain their humanity. Slave holders treated enslaved people as passive work animals who had to do what other people told them to do. But during even small ceremonies enslaved people became human again, in control of their soul and destiny after death. By celebrating ceremonies they recaptured their self-recognition as human beings.

The history of Vodou reflects the ambiguous relationship of the Black Republic (former nickname of Haiti) to its surroundings and its internal problems. <5> Though the roots of Vodou go far beyond the successful slave uprising and Haiti’s independence from France, the connection to the rebellion influenced the reception of the religion. The term ‘Vodou’ describes a religion whose roots are in Africa but which was constructed in Haiti. In Benin, the former kingdom of Dahomey, the term ‘vodou’ was used to refer to ancestors or other spirits who were worshiped in specific cults. Every social group, hence every family, association, village, town, and so on, worshipped its own spirit, its own ‘vodou’. Through migration from the countryside to urban areas the cult of a ‘vodou’ moved to another region where it gained new worshippers. The local belief in ‘vodou-s’ grew into a belief system encompassing various spirits. But the slave trade had a greater impact on the religious system than African internal migration. It forced people with a heterogeneous religious background together, and the tribal religion developed into a complex system of beliefs and practices known today under the name ‘Vodou’.

Though African people were transported to Hispaniola, the Spanish name for the island, as early as 1503, the beginning of Vodou is usually traced back to the French period which started officially in 1697 when the number of Africans on the island increased dramatically. In all French colonies the treatment of slaves was regulated by the Code Noir (from 1685). This act ordered, for instance, the baptism of every slave and prohibited the practice of any other religions apart from Roman Catholicism. Any meeting of slaves was also prohibited because of the fear of a slave uprising. Enslaved Africans started therefore to adapt Catholic rites and reinterpret them in light of their own traditions. Consequently, Vodou included (and still includes today) elements from French Catholicism, freemasonry, and indigenous traditions and the worship of African deities, in particular Dahomey spirits. At the end of the eighteenth century these spiritual entities were divided into ‘nanchos’ (nations), were called ‘lwa’ instead of ‘vodou’, and were identified with the names of Catholic saints. <6> Scholars doubt the existence of a homogeneous system of beliefs and practices at this early stage, though the lack of information about the beliefs of slaves makes it impossible to date the beginning of Vodou as a multifaceted religious phenomenon.

After the French revolution and the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen by the National Assembly in France in 1789, opposition to slavery increased and became a threat to the colonial system. In 1791 the maroon Boukman Dutty called for a general uprising of all enslaved people. This initiated a chain of events that ended in the declaration of Haiti as an independent state in 1804. The Black Republic Haiti was the second independent state in the Americas and represents the only successful slave uprising. Nonetheless, its neighbours did not praise Haiti’s success but regarded the island with fear. From the beginning of the rebellion in 1791, fleeing Europeans spread rumours about ‘savage Blacks’ who, violent and cruel, greedy for revenge and blood, raped and slaughtered white women, set plantations on fire and forced harmless settlers to flee. When the rumour was spread that the leader of the rebellion, Boukman, was an oungan, a Vodou priest, who conducted a Vodou ceremony to start the rebellion in Bois Caïman, settlers on all Caribbean islands became hysterical. <7>

Vodou became inseparably connected to the slave uprising and Haitian independence. The story that a Vodou ceremony launched the fight for freedom is taught in school and constitutes an important founding myth. <8> It also marks an important dimension of the reception of Vodou outside Haiti. When Haiti gained independence from Europe it was regarded as a threat to colonial power. The victory of the former enslaved people over the French army was unthinkable from a European perspective. Hence, they attributed their success to yellow fever, French miscalculations, British interference or even supernatural forces. Consequently, Vodou became reduced to a single aspect: black magic. In the eyes of the Europeans and North Americans, not only every death and every unexplained accident was caused by Vodou rituals, but also every act of resistance against Europeans. <9> This attitude even influenced the Haitian ruling class. Despite all efforts to separate Haiti from France, the Creole middle and upper classes remained oriented towards French traditions after independence and tried to disconnect Haiti from Vodou and its negative stereotypes. Consequently, President Jean-Pierre Boyer prohibited Vodou as superstition in 1835. Though the Catholic Church was rarely represented in Haiti until the concordat in 1860, the ruling class tried to proclaim Haiti a Catholic country. Nonetheless, the diffidence of the Catholic Church allowed Vodou to stabilise as a religion and the relationship between the two religions to settle. <10>

Despite this development the religion still struggles against prejudice. Because of many biased publications it is difficult to obtain reliable information on the religious concept of Vodou. Without written doctrines and institutional structures, created by many individuals from various cultures over decades, the understanding of Vodou still creates a problem for outsiders, as Sidney Mintz and Michel-Rolph Trouillot argue. <11> Vodou is a highly differentiated system of beliefs and practices with a complex hierarchy, long and complex rituals and various legends. Vodou practitioners believe in the existence of God (Bondye) as creator of mankind; however, the former African deities, the lwa, are at the centre of their rituals. The African deities are connected with nature (thunder, sea, rivers, trees and so on) as well as with human activities and human characteristics. But not all lwa can be traced back to Africa; some refer to indigenous and even to Creole elements of the Haitian heritage. The Vodou pantheon incorporates today - apart from African deities - spirits with indigenous human origins because some of the resistance fighters against slavery and colonial oppression acquired the status of spirits after death. The spirits are divided into different categories, each with specific rituals. Every group of spirits has its own songs, prayers, dances, rhythms, attributes, even sacrifices and can be recognised by the paraphernalia which appears during a ceremony, e.g. when a lwa materialises in a human body by ‘possessing’ or ‘mounting’ a person.

Lwa are believed to have the power to influence human destiny. Every unexplainable problem (physical as well as social) can be explained with reference to spirits. Human beings must honour the lwa in order to avoid punishment and misfortune. <12> In the case of a problem, it is necessary to contact the lwa and ask them about the reasons for it and possible treatments. Hence the communication between human beings on the one hand, and God and the spirits on the other, that is in the hands of Vodou priests, is the centre of the religious practice of Vodou. The main function of the priests is to help the members of their temples to deal with the spiritual world.

Vodou was at the beginning more important in the rural areas of Haiti than in the capital, which was dominated by the French educated Creole class. Vodou was often portrayed as a ‘familial system of ancestral belief, tied to the land and, through the land and through the lwa, to the past’. <13> Countryside, kinship and cult were apparently irrevocably connected, and Vodou became a symbol of the uneducated rural population until le choc, the first occupation of Haiti by the U.S.A. in 1915. The U.S. marines were sent to Haiti because of its financial bankruptcy and the ongoing political instability. <14> This occupation, which lasted until 1934, radically changed the social structure of Haiti. In particular, the farmers suffered under the occupation of the U.S. marines because they were forced to do unpaid work, sometimes even in U.S. sugar plantations outside Haiti. One unpredicted consequence was the establishment of a black middle class which was not oriented towards European or North American intellectualism but supported rural traditions. After the end of the occupation, the Haitian government tried to develop a new national identity, this time oriented away from Europe. Part of this was a public campaign between 1946 and 1950 that President Dumarsais Estimé conducted in order to proclaim the cultural and ethnic independence of Haiti. One element was the creation of a pure, ‘authentic’ Vodou. But instead of increasing the image of Vodou the religion was declassified as folklore. Vodou seemed to be only acceptable as tourist performance. But things got worse under François Duvalier.

Political Misuse of Vodou

During the dictatorship of the Duvaliers (1957-1986), the reputation of Vodou again changed, in particular under François Duvalier (1907-1971, president from 1957). Though never publicly acknowledged, Duvalier was regarded as an oungan, a Vodou priest. It was said that he conducted ceremonies in order to gain the goodwill of the Vodou spirits. Laënnec Hurbon writes that his behaviour was regarded as an attempt to turn the forces of Vodou to his benefit. <15> Under François Duvalier Vodou became theatrically embodied, as Paul Christopher Johnson explains: ‘Duvalier’s very physiognomy, accoutred in black hat, glasses, and cane as a Gede, a member of the spirit family that guards the borders between life and death, and even speaking in that spirit’s typical nasal tones, was a bridge that linked representations of religious power and national authoritarian power.’ <16> However, Duvalier’s attitude towards Vodou was characteristically ambivalent. Despite this style of self-presentation, Duvalier officially always presented himself as Catholic; in 1964 he even declared Catholicism the only religion of Haiti even though as a student (of medicine) he had become fascinated by Vodou and Haitian folklore. After the U.S. occupation he became involved in the newly founded Bureau of Ethnology and established his first contacts with Vodou priests and priestesses. Some years later, during his participation in a vaccination campaign as a medical doctor, he acquired the reputation of a hero among the poor people who regarded him as a man ‘who could both cure yaws [a tropical disease] and speak to the spirits’ <17>, both of which proved helpful when he turned to politics. It was with the help of the poor that Duvalier was later elected as president of Haiti.

Despite his interest in Vodou and his belief that Vodou was ‘the heart and soul of the Haitian peasantry’, Vodou developed under Duvalier into a ‘secretist religion’ <18>, and became associated with black witchcraft. After the end of the dictatorship, when his son fled Haiti in 1986, the fury of the oppressed people was vented on Vodou priests. On February 7^th 1986, a mob went furiously through the streets, destroyed Vodou temples and killed Tonton Macoutes and many Vodou priests who were ‘accused of practicing sorcery on behalf of the dictatorship’. <19> The déchoukaj, as this event is known, ended only when a few courageous Catholic priests finally succeeded in protecting the Vodou priests from the mob.

The reason for this massacre lies in the behaviour of the Volontaires de la Sécurite Nationale, the Tonton Macoutes, formed by Duvalier as a secret police modelled on the Nazis. <20> Michel Laguerre argues that the creation of the Tonton Macoute force ‘was an attempt at redefining the centre of civil society’; instead of the army the Tonton Macoutes became the new centre ‘in as much as they were called to harass, exploit and repress the civilian population’. <21> Laguerre distinguishes three steps in the establishment of the Tonton Macoutes. Between 1957 and 1958, hence during his campaign for presidency, Duvalier had a group of spies who intimidated and physically abused people who opposed him, in particular the supporters of the other presidential candidates, but also people inside the Duvalierist group, in order to secure his power. They were called ‘cagoulards’ (=men hidden behind hoods) and their identity and activities were kept secret. <22>

In 1959 Duvalier transformed them into a civilian militia, effectively an auxiliary unit to the army. The members even received some military training. But, after a short period, the auxiliary unit evolved into a parallel force, a paramilitary unit whose members were recognised as volunteers working to protect national security. Duvalier changed their name to Tonton Macoutes, referring to a popular figure from Haitian folklore portrayed as an old man with a ‘macoute’ (=bag) in which, according to the legend, he puts children, and hence is seen as a bogeyman. The government came to rely for internal security more on the Macoutes than on the army (consequently, Duvalier later dissolved the army). The power and activities of the Tonton Macoutes exceeded the control of the army by then and they became assertive and proactive. <23>

The VNS (Volunteers for National Security) had approximately between 9,000 and 15,000 members but not even the government knew the identity of all of them. They were absolutely loyal to François Duvalier and then to his son, Jean Claude Duvalier (1951-, president from 1971-1986). Their main function was to guard the Duvalier regime against assassination attempts. However, they were mainly used by Duvalier to terrorise and murder opponents; they were the main force for controlling public discontent and political adversaries of the Duvaliers. Their techniques included beating, torture, harassment, rape, and assassination. Their victims were any real and suspected political opponents of the president. Anybody could become a target because of their race, religion, gender, nationality, political opinions, or social class.

Laguerre characterises their organization as neither ‘purely civilian’ nor ‘fully military’. There existed an ‘organic integration’ between the army and the VSN with shared duties and personnel though the Tonton Macoutes did not receive regular salaries. Their income relied on theft, extortion and occasional state grants of land. The subdivision of the VSN was similar to the military division though there did not exist a formal chain of command within the area departments. However, Port-au-Prince was their geographical centre, with three headquarters and five leaders. All members would be described either as ‘true believers’ (pro-Duvalier) or as opportunists, often recruited from poor areas and/or from the army. <24>

Under the regime of Jean-Claude Duvalier (1971-1986) the role of the Tonton Macoutes changed. He ordered the head of the Tonton Macoutes, Mrs Max Adolphe (former Rosalie Bosquet), to give every member an identification number and to register their names in the central bureau in Port-au-Prince. The reasons behind this - according to Laguerre - related to the need to organise regular payment for all members but also to weaken the influence of the regional headquarters, hence to prevent a revolt against Port-au-Prince. <25> Duvalier wanted to reduce the influence of the Macoutes on internal affairs which Laguerre interprets as a sign of Duvalier’s lessening support for the Macoutes. Apparently, his marriage to a ‘mulatto woman’ and later a visit from the Pope alienated the Macoutes and the Duvalierists just a few years before the collapse of the regime. <26>

But what was the connection between the Tonton Macoutes and Vodou? Laguerre does not mention Vodou at all in his chapter about the Tonton Macoutes, though he reports in another chapter that the recruitment of Vodou priests as espionage agents ‘has been a common phenomenon throughout Haitian history’. However, he then singles out the period of U.S. occupation (1915 to 1934) as the time when Vodou priests ‘became an institutional feature of the Haitian military intelligence system’, in return for protection and freedom to celebrate Vodou rituals. <27> Hurbon explains the killing of Vodou priests in the déchoukaj with reference to the ‘lumping together’ of Vodou priests and Macoutes and acknowledges that Duvalier managed to get into his service ‘many networks of oungan, whom he used as informers or agents’. <28> And Johnson writes in a footnote that many members of the VNS were Vodou ‘leaders’ who carried out ‘unofficial missions of intimidation or the elimination of rivals’.<29> Hence, one can assume a personnel connection between Vodou and VNS which could explain the killing.

But there is also a religious dimension that is perhaps an even stronger factor in the events of the déchoukaj. The Tonton Macoutes had spread fear not only because of their violent behaviour but also because of the religious connection to Vodou which was so perfectly staged by François Duvalier. The typical uniform of a Tonton Macoute was a soft hat, denim pants, a red bandana, and sunglasses – ‘precisely the sartorial code of the loa Azaka, the peasant spirit also named ‘Kouzen (cousin), who carries a straw satchel’. <30> François Duvalier presented himself as Baron Samdi, the head of the Gede who controls the border between life and death. Duvalier ‘not only bore the loa, he infused loa Baron Samdi with his own persona’, hence he became the spirit. <31> Johnson points out that ‘Baron Samdi was president, the bogeyman Uncle Satchel (tonton makoute) was the law’. <32>

To explain why this performance spread so much fear I will refer to two religious concepts, known under the (admittedly value-laden) labels ‘zombie’ and ‘Voodoo doll’. In the literature (in particular, the non-academic writing), one can find several accounts of zombies and magical punishment but no scholar has ever claimed to see a zombie in real life. <33> I got the impression during my research that zombies are similar to the concept of hell in Christian stories: a committed believer fears them but no one has any personal experience of it. The term is often used nowadays on a symbolic level. Nonetheless, people are afraid of them. The belief in zombies is connected to the concept of body and soul in Vodou. According to the Vodou worldview human beings consist of body and soul. The soul is divided into two parts, ‘tibonanj’and‘gwobonanj’, the little angel and the big good angel. The latter leaves the body after death while the first one stays until the last day on earth or – according to another source – enters the world of the spirits beneath water (guinea). <34> Powerful Vodou priests are believed to have the power to prevent this from happening by catching the tibonanj. Controlling this part of the soul leads to control of the body. This creates people without their own will and mind because tibonanjisresponsible for free will, creativity, and individuality. In particular, after an unexpected or unnatural death (such as death by accident, poison, HIV and so on) the soul becomes vulnerable to this kind of attack.

A zombie is characterised as someone lacking self-control, living a solitary existence, and showing violent behaviour. At a conference in 2005 Christopher Kovats-Bernat commented that street children in Port-au-Prince were treated as ‘zombies’ because of their behaviour. They had been drug addicts, with no family, few opportunities, and engaged in aggressive behaviour. He was told in Port-au-Prince not to speak with them because ‘They are dead’. <35> But despite this symbolic use of the term ‘zombie’, it is also true that Vodou does not exclude the evil side of humanity from its worldview. A priest is thought to be able to manipulate the lwa in order to help people with their problems in the spiritual world, and with the same abilities a priest can also cause harm. Hence priests can change destiny by influencing the lwa, who then may influence human beings. An example that was published recently by Karen McCarthy Brown, a long time researcher of Vodou, in particular Haitian Vodou in the U.S., shall illustrate the emic concept of changing one’s destiny in Vodou.

Brown is known in particular for her contact with Mama Lola, a Haitian mambo (Vodou priestess) in Brooklyn who became, through Brown’s publications, famous, even beyond New York City. <36> Drawing on her relationship with the priestess, Brown was able to describe the way ‘wanga’ (often labelled ‘Voodoo dolls’ by outsiders) are supposed to work. In her example Mama Lola helped a Haitian immigrant, Abner Louima, who got into trouble with the New York City police in August 1997. After a concert by a Haitian band, the crowd became loud and aggressive, and the police arrived and arrested Louima. He was taken to a police station in Brooklyn where he was brutally abused (e.g., he was beaten and a toilet plunger was rammed into his rectum). After hours of bleeding, Louima was taken to a hospital. He survived and was able to leave the hospital (after several surgical procedures) two months later. Nonetheless, the police officers who were responsible for his treatment were not charged, at least not directly after the event. Only two years later did the state open an investigation leading to the prosecution of the perpetrators, because of ongoing public protests. However, the charges were dismissed in court because the jury did not believe the Haitian immigrant’s account of the event. In subsequent years the case has been subject to several retrials but whether justice will ever be served remains unclear. Nevertheless, in 2001 Abner Louima received $7.125 million from the city and $1.625 million from the police union PBA (as an out of court settlement), though without any admission of guilt by the police. <37>

These are the facts, but what are the reasons behind them? Brown offers a religious explanation for the changed attitude of the city and the police union. According to Brown, Louima consulted Mama Lola after everything else went wrong. As a result of this consultation, the priestess succeeded in changing his ‘luck’ by manufacturing two types of wanga. Mama Lola’s intention was ‘to bring about a situation in which Abner Louima and the things that motivated him would be more transparent to those who were judging him every day in the media and on the streets.’ <38> She did not intend to harm the judge or the police officers, only to change Louima’s image in the eyes of the public. Wanga are regarded as representations of troubled relationships and a means of solving the problem they represent. The person with the problem has to conduct certain practices (praying, lightening candles before the wanga and so on) and this is called ‘working the wanga’. In a case of an unfaithful husband the priest normally keeps the wanga (in this case a doll made of the husband’s clothing and bound into a small wooden chair) so that the husband does not become suspicious. Nonetheless, according to Brown (or, more precisely, according to the information provided by Mama Lola) wanga should not be used to harm someone (as outsiders often assume), only ‘to manipulate power by changing human relationships’. <39> And this happened to Louima. He was not changed but the relationships between him and the people around him were changed. By ‘working the wanga’ the priestess manipulated destiny, though in a positive way (for her client).

1. The example demonstrates the emic rationale behind wanga, the emic understanding of the manipulation of destiny. Though ‘working the wanga’ does not aim to harm a person (as wrongly portrayed in popular movies), the intention is to change destiny. Consequently, people are afraid of Vodou priests and priestesses because of their belief in their power to manipulate fate. And this fear lies behind the incident in Haiti in 1986; it is one of the reasons why people behaved in such a violent way after the end of the Duvalier regime. François Duvalier succeeded in connecting his regime with this aspect of Vodou, the manipulation of fate by Vodou priests, by recruiting some Vodou priests as informers and agents of the Tonton Macoutes. This connection created irrational responses that became difficult to control. The VNS then increased this fear through actions such as the theft of dead bodies from cemeteries.

One was the body of Clement Jumelle, a candidate for the presidency in 1957, which was stolen in 1959. As Johnson writes, ‘Officially, the body’s removal was to stifle the public rally that might have gathered on the occasional of Jumelle’s burial, but the gossip network spread the word that Jumelle’s heart would be used as a wanga (magic charm) to fortify and armor Duvalier’s office’. <40> The VNS openly used Vodou beliefs in order to increase the fear of the public. Consequently, people became more and more afraid to oppose the Tonton Macoutes and hence the dictator because they were afraid of magical punishment, of being the target of wanga or even of becoming a zombie. Though not every member of the VNS practised Vodou, and though not every Vodou priest was involved in the Duvalier regime, this link between the VNS and Vodou was so strong that people had come to regard Vodou as a symbol of the Duvaliers. <41>

The result was the déchoukaj, the violent uprising against all aspects of Duvalier’s regime. On February 7th 1986, the day Jean-Claude Duvalier left Haiti, people started to destroy Vodou temples, religious symbols and to kill hundreds of Vodou leaders. <42> Together with Tonton Macoutes they were lynched, some even burned alive. This event is still remembered by Haitians though it is difficult to find someone who will speak about this time; it is still too shameful to talk about it. But in order to separate Vodou from its negative image, one has to show that the religion had little to do with the Duvalier regime and the way it suppressed opponents. Vodou is a widespread system of beliefs and practices, popular not only in Haiti but also among Haitians in the Diaspora and increasingly among non-Haitians. <43> To reduce it to ‘black magic’ would be a late victory for the Tonton Macoutes, and also of the slave holders who were responsible for the initial creation of Vodou as magic, and it would be unjust to all the peaceful people who serve the spirits.

Epilogue

After the end of the dictatorship the situation changed. More and more Haitian intellectuals proclaimed their commitment to Vodou. Members of the middle and upper class in Port-au-Prince openly declared being ‘vodouisants’ (Vodou practitioners). This development improved the way Vodou was perceived in and outside Haiti. Supporters even founded associations in support of Vodou such as the ZANTRAY (Zenfan Tradisyon Ayisyen, children of Haitian tradition). In 1987, one year after the massacre, the new constitution acknowledged Kreyòl as the official state language together with French, and also deleted the negative entry about Vodou. For the first time in Haitian history the practice of Vodou rituals was no longer against the law and Vodou became decriminalized. In 1991, the 200th anniversary of the ceremony in Bois Caïman was commemorated as the official start of the successful slave rebellion, and President Jean-Bertrand Aristide invited a Vodou priest to attend his inaugural ceremony. In 2003, Vodou was officially acknowledged as Haiti’s national religion (alongside Roman Catholicism) though most Haitian vodouisants would still declare that they are Catholic despite also serving the spirits. Nevertheless, Vodou provokes ongoing hostile reactions, in particular in the U.S., where the religion is still regarded as ‘black magic’. <44>

Unfortunately, the improvement in the perception of Vodou has been disturbed in recent decades by the fast succession of putsches, U.S.-occupation, elections, street fights and ongoing violence. More and more Haitians have decided to leave the country. Vodou becomes again the victim of a negative though less vehement campaign. <45> Mintz and Trouillot judge the development of Vodou quite pessimistically: ‘What was once a people’s religion is now two other things besides: a political divertissement for Haitian political leaders, and a side show for tourist hotels’. <46> But they ignore the creativity of Vodou believers in adapting their belief system to new circumstances. During slavery Vodou became established despite the suppression of a cruel and inhuman regime, and today it survives despite being regarded as evil, black magic or a tourist attraction. Vodou is part of Haiti as its Kréyol religion. It is even a unifying element between Haiti and Haitians in the Diaspora. And it is part of their national history as a symbol of the successful resistance against slavery. The spirits will survive.

Notes

Earlier versions of this paper were presented at the BASR Annual Conference in Bath in 2006 and at the workshop ‘Global Vigilantes’ at the University of Sussex in 2005. I am grateful to my colleagues for their comments.

<1> Akhil Gupta, ‘Blurred Boundaries: The Discourse of Corruption, the Culture of Politics and the Imagined State’, American Ethnologist 22 (2), 1995, pp. 375-402.

<2> The term ‘law-preserving violence’ was used by Walter Benjamin who criticised the distinction between ‘legitimate’ and ‘illegitimate’ violence (part of Weber’s definition of modern statehood). ‘Lawmaking’ violence is directed to rebellion and incorporates a threat to the state, while ‘law-preserving’ acts try to maintain the status quo, hence are threats to people opposing the state. Walter Benjamin, ‘Critique of Violence’, in: Walter Benjamin, Reflections: Essays, Aphorisms, Autobiographical Writings, edited and with an introduction by Peter Demetz, (New York: Schocken Books, 1986), pp. 277-300 (the chapter was first published in German in Archiv für Sozialwissenschaft und Sozialpolitik, Vol. XLVII, 1920/21, pp. 809-832).

<3> Alfred Métraux, Le vaudou haïtien. (Paris: Gallimard, 1998 [1958)]), p. 11. See also Melville Herskovits, Life in a Haitian Valley,(New York: Octagon Books, 1964 [1937]), p. 139 for a similar comment. In the literature scholars use different spellings, some have Americanised the Kreyòl terms such as loa (for lwa) or Voodoo (for Vodou) while others use the Haitian spelling. Apart from verbatim quotations from other sources I will use the Kreyòl spelling.

<4> Look at Sidney W. Mintz and Richard Price, The Birth of African-American Culture: An Anthropological Perspective, (Boston: Beacon Press, 1992 [1976]) for information about the birth of the African American culture; for information about the individualisation process see specifically pp. 42-43.

<5> My presentation of the belief system of Vodou and its history is based on my fieldwork among New York vodouisants (people practising Vodou) between 1999 and 2001 as well as on descriptions in the literature, in particular the one by Laënnec Hurbon; see, for instance, Voodoo: Search for the Spirit, (New York: Harry N. Abrahams, 1995); and Dieu dans le Vaudou haitien, (Paris: Payot, 1972).

<6> See Hurbon ‘Voodoo’ pp. 140-143 with a list of characteristics of lwa and their Catholic counterparts. According to most scholars the term lwa derives from a Fon language though some affiliate lwa with the French term loi (law) (e.g. Leslie Desmangles, The Faces of Gods. Vodou and Roman Catholicism in Haiti, (New York: University of North Carolina Press, 1992)); neither derivation, however, can be verified.

<7> As a result of the declaration of independence of Haiti, every black sailor had to be chained when their ships arrived in a harbour in the Caribbean and Northern America without regard to status or ethnic background; ships coming from Haiti were not allowed to anchor in any harbour in the Caribbean and the U.S.A.; and all reunions of enslaved people were radically prohibited. See Nicola H. Götz, Obeah - Hexerei in der Karibik - zwischen Macht und Ohnmacht, (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang Verlag, 1995) for a discussion about the connection between the independence of Haiti and the Anti-Obeah law in Jamaica.

Scholars today doubt if the ceremony in Bois Caïman really took place because the first written description of the ceremony was published years after the event took place, in 1814, and was apparently based on statements of prisoners taken after the ceremony. See, for instance, Léon-François Hoffmann ‘Myth, history and literature: The Bois-Caïman ceremony’, in Manfred Kremser (ed.) Ay BoBo – afro-karibische Religionen, (Zweite Internationale Tagung der Gesellschaft für Karibikforschung Wien 1990), Teil 2: Voodoo, (Wien: WUV-Univ.-Verlag, 1996), pp. 35-50, here p. 36.

<8> Hoffmann ‘Myth, history and literature’, p. 35

<9> See Michel-Rolph Trouillot ‘Silencing the Past: Layers of Meaning in the Haitian Revolution’, in Gerald Sider and Gavin Smith (eds.) Between History and Histories: The Making of Silences and Commemorations (Toronto: Toronto University Press, 1997), pp. 31-61.

Peter Hulme explains how resistance against European suppression became the fault-line between ‘civilisation’ and ‘savagery’ during the conquest of America. People who fought against the Europeans were accused of being ‘cannibals’ and were consequently a target of destruction (Peter Hulme, Colonial Encounters: Europe and the native Caribbean, 1492-1797, (London and New York: Methuen, 1986), here p. 86). See also Bettina E. Schmidt, ‘The Interpretation of Violent Worldviews: Cannibalism and other Violent Images of the Caribbean’, in Bettina E. Schmidt and Ingo W. Schröder (eds.) Anthropology of Violence and Conflict (European Association of Social Anthropologists), (London/New York: Routledge, 2001), pp. 76-96.

<10> Sidney Mintz and Michel-Rolph Trouillot ‘The social history of Haitian Vodou’, in Donald Cosentino (ed.) Sacret Arts of Haitian Vodou, (Los Angeles: UCLA Fowler Museum of Cultural History, 1995), pp. 123-147, here p. 139.

<11> Mintz/Trouillot ‘The social history’, p. 123.

<12> Vodou is therefore also called ‘serving the lwa’. A believer would normally answer the question ‘what is your religion?’ with Christianity. But when asked about belief the answer would be ‘in the power of lwa’.

<13> Mintz/Trouillot ‘The social history’, p. 141.

<14> Hurbon describes this time before the occupation as ‘indescribable disorder’ and ‘anarchy’, see Laënnec Hurbon ‘American Fantasy and Haitian Vodou’, in: Donald Cosentino (ed.) Sacret Arts of Haitian Vodou, (Los Angeles: UCLA Fowler Museum of Cultural History, 1995), pp. 181-197, here: 184.

<15> Hurbon ‘Voodoo’, p. 119.

The real involvement of Duvalier in Vodou is difficult to assess. Métraux, who wrote his monograph about Vodou during the presidential campaign of François Duvalier (the book was published in French in 1958), portrays Duvalier as an (innocent) victim of a libel campaign launched by his political opponents, based only on his interest in Vodou (in Métraux ‘Le vaudou haïtien’ p. 46). Johnson therefore insists that ‘the division between ‘real’ religion and the specious ‘use of’ religion cannot be determined and is best left to venues outside academic.’ (Paul Christopher Johnson ‘Secretism and the Apotheosis of Duvalier’, Journal of the American Academy of Religion, Vol. 74 (2), 2006, p. 427, FN 5). Though Johnson is right to insist that we cannot assess Duvalier’s relationship to Vodou unbiased, I argue that the massacre of Vodou priests in 1986 can indeed be seen as a consequence of Duvalier’s recruitment of Vodou priests into his service and of his staged performance of Vodou, and hence is indeed the result of his ‘misuse’ of the Vodou religion.

<16> Johnson ‘Secretism’, p. 422.

<17> Johnson ‘Secretism’, pp. 428-429.

<18> Johnson ‘Secretism’, p. 433.

<19> Hurbon ‘Voodoo’, p. 123. Many Protestant ministers even increased the violence with anti-Vodou preaching and by announcing that the priests are ‘responsible for the ‘evil’ that had spread throughout the country’ (Hurbon ‘Voodoo’, p. 122).

<20> Hurbon ‘Voodoo’, p. 119; Hurbon probably referred to the Gestapo and the SS.

<21> Michael S. Laguerre, The Military and Society in Haiti, (Houndmills/ London: Macmillan Press, 1993), p. 114.

<22> Laguerre ‘Military and Society’, p. 114.

<23> Laguerre ‘Military and Society’, p. 115.

<24> See also Michael S. Laguerre ‘The Tontons Macoutes’, in James Ridgeway (ed.) The Haiti Files: Decoding the Crisis, (Washington: Essentials Books, 1994), p. 47-52 (an excerpt of one chapter of Laguerre ‘Military and Society’).

<25> Laguerre ‘Military and Society’, p. 116.

<26> Laguerre ‘Military and Society’, p. 123.

<27> Laguerre ‘Military and Society’, p. 138.

<28> Hurbon ‘Voodoo’ p. 120, p. 119. Although with Mrs. Max Adolphe a woman was the head of the Tonton Macoutes (Laguerre ‘Tontons Macoutes’ p. 48), no author mentions the involvement of mambos (Vodou priestesses) in the VNS.

Before Duvalier, women were regarded in Haiti (together with children and old people) as politically innocent; they had the ‘privilege’ ‘of not being subject of state violence’ (Charles ‘Gender and Politics’, p. 139). But Duvalier changed this. One of the first actions of the Tonton Macoutes was the kidnapping, torture and rape of Yvonne Hakime Rimpel, a feminist editor and anti-Duvalier activist, in July 1958. Since then, gender did not prevent violence; hence state violence ironically created, as Charles concludes, gender equality. On the other hand Duvalier constructed with the ‘Marie Jeannes’ (referring to a rebellious slave woman, Marie Jeanne) a ‘positive’ category for women. As daughters of the revolution loyal women (=loyal to the regime) became an integral part of the paramilitary forces. All congress women were, according to Charles, prominent members of the Tonton Macoutes, which gave them access to wealth and privileges; one woman even became commander-in-chief of the Tonton Macoutes. Women became redefined as political subjects – by becoming victims and perpetrators. See Carolle Charles, ‘Gender and Politics in Contemporary Haiti: The Duvalierist State, Transnationalism, and the Emergence of a New Feminism (1980-1990)’, Feminist Studies 21 (1), 1995, pp. 135-164.

<29> Johnson ‘Secretism’, p. 430, FN 6.

<30> Johnson ‘Secretism’, p. 430.

<31> Johnson ‘Secretism’, p. 438.

<32> Johnson ‘Secretism’, p. 440.

<33> The books by Wade Davies about zombies are not a good reference for Vodou. Vodou practitioners consider them to be insulting.

<34> Métraux ‘Le vaudou haïtien’, p. 229.

<35> Paper at the conference of the Caribbean Studies Association in 2005 in Santo Domingo by Christopher Kovats-Bernat about street children in Port-au-Prince.

<36> See, for instance, her monograph Mama Lola: A Vodou Priestress in Brooklyn, (Berkeley/Los Angeles: Univ. of California Press, 1991). The name Mama Lola was originally a pseudonym given to the priestess in order to protect her identity but it became her ‘label’ and is still used today although her ‘real name’ is well known in and beyond New York City.

<37> Karen McCarthy Brown ‘Making Wanga: Reality Constructions and the Magical Manipulation of Power’, in: Linda L. Barnes and Susan S. Sered (eds.), Religion and Healing in America, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), p. 192.

<38> Brown ‘Making Wanga’, p. 176

<39> Brown ‘Making Wanga’, p. 181.

<40> Johnson ‘Secretism’, p. 434, FN 9.

<41> Hurbon ‘Voodoo’, p. 119, 122.

<42> Johnson ‘Secretism’,  p. 440. The number of people killed during the three months after Duvalier’s departure is not clear. Johnson mentions ‘hundreds’ while Hurbon just writes ‘many’ (Hurbon ‘Voodoo’, p. 122).

<43> Bettina E. Schmidt, Karibische Diaspora in New York: Vom »Wilden Denken« zur »Polyphonen Kultur« Berlin: Dietrich Reimer Verlag, 2002. (An updated version in English will be published under the title Caribbean Diaspora in the U.S.A.: Diversity of Caribbean Religions in New York City, (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2008)).

<44> See Hurbon ‘American Fantasy’, pp. 181-197.

<45> See, for instance, the tabloid picture of a U.S.-newspaper during the U.S. occupation with Billy Graham saying: ‘Face of Satan rises over Haiti!’, in Hurbon ‘American Fantasy’, p. 194.

<46> Mintz/Trouillot ‘The social history’, p. 147.

© Bettina Schmidt 2007