1971–1975: (A Pleasant Young Man Surrounded by Hyenas: Duvalierism Institutionalized, Zacharie Delva Still Practicing Black Magic in Gonaïves, Fort Dimanche’…

1971–1975: (A Pleasant Young Man Surrounded by Hyenas: Duvalierism Institutionalized, Zacharie Delva Still Practicing Black Magic in Gonaïves, Fort Dimanche’s 400 Political Prisoners, the Cafétéria Torture Station, Luc Désir’s Tape-Recorded Interrogations, Volvos as Marks of Favor, and the $4 Million Commemorative Stamp Fraud): Duvalierism had become institutionalized — some of its most savage proponents gray-haired, pot-bellied, and hugely invested in the status quo. When threatened they still reacted fiercely, but for the sake of the international community, Duvalierism was on its best behavior. Maquillage though was only skin deep: Madame Max Adolphe might truck out VSN members on weekends as part of a tree-planting campaign, but she had lost none of her abilities to order torture or beatings. Outside Port-au-Prince, away from the glare of publicity, the section chiefs ruled as they always had with an iron hand — nobody around Gonaïves talked about liberalization as long as Zacharie Delva was still practicing black magic and coercing unwilling peasant lads into his bed. Fort Dimanche might have fewer prisoners, but this was scant consolation to those caught in the net: scions of jaune families who had grown up abroad and took the regime at its word about a new mood found themselves hustled aboard the next flight out or worse, into Fort Dimanche, for some indiscreet association or utterance in New York or Paris picked up by the well-oiled Duvalier intelligence machine. Between Fort Dimanche, the Dessalines barracks, and the police station in Port-au-Prince, some four hundred political prisoners were held in conditions designed to snuff out their lives — those who survived initial interrogations at the Casernes were consigned to Fort Dimanche to perish from tuberculosis, malnutrition, or madness. The machine was still in place, still functioning, still turning Haitian against Haitian, demonstrating the evil genius of its creator. Jean-Claude Duvalier, said one diplomat, is a pleasant young man surrounded by hyenas. How much the president knew of the nastier aspects of his government was unclear — most of the torturing was done away from the palace, either next door in the Casernes or at the downtown police station known as the Cafétéria. He never came to share his father’s relish for the exquisite agonies inflicted on prisoners, but neither did he curb those who enjoyed such activities. A new generation of police and army officers was rising, well skilled in the means necessary to maintain the regime’s grip — some of the older macoutes, such as Luc Désir, made tape recordings of interrogations they conducted, apparently savoring them in quiet moments. While the distasteful aspects operated away from the public eye, Duvalier circulated easily, partying with friends, giving lavish gifts — cars, especially Volvos, and wristwatches were special marks of favor — and doling out patronage. Occasionally some peccadillo exceeded even the regime’s relaxed standards, as in 1975 when several well-placed individuals — including, it was said, Nicole Duvalier, whose cut was touted at some $4 million — colluded to have a very limited edition of commemorative postage stamps produced in Europe for the collector’s market, their bona fides certified to international postal authorities by a copy of the official gazette Le Moniteur, of which one copy had been quietly produced for just such purposes — the plotters had not reckoned on Haitian stamp collectors, one of whom received the advertisement from Europe and, being also highly placed on Le Moniteur, went to his superiors in some puzzlement.