Haiti, this country where tragedy seems to have taken up residence, inaugurated its presidential transitional council on Thursday, April 25, a body of nine presidents resembling political theater, promising order in an indomitable chaos.
During a separate ceremony in two acts – one in a presidential palace in ruins, a poetic symbol of a broken state, the other in a reception villa hardly more welcoming – eight men and a woman vowed to straighten out what seems incurably sagging.
In the heart of Port-au-Prince, the bullets rang out as if to taunt the official fanfare, reminding us that the promises made under the faded gold are as fragile as the calm in the streets of the capital. The council, a motley collection of nine heads for a sick body, stands like an ironic pantheon in the face of a reality where gangs dictate their law, making any attempt at governance almost laughable.
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The faces of the new government
Michel Patrick Boisvertthe new interim Prime Minister, took over fromAriel Henry, disappeared on the international scene. The question arises, perhaps derisively, about the fate of those loyal to Henry, promoted or exiled to reward their loyalty or their incompetence. Emmelie Prophète, a former journalist who became Minister of Culture, remains in a position where she can do less harm, illustrating with biting irony this ballet of musical chairs where the same actors change masks but never script.
The restoration of public security is sung like a hackneyed refrain by Régine Abraham, member of the council, who denounces the bitter failure of the outgoing government. But, can we really fail where no success has ever been recorded? Perhaps this is the true genius of Haiti: failing so spectacularly that the world can’t help but watch, half horrified, half fascinated.
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With elections promised in the future as unclear as the effectiveness of the future UN security mission, Haiti continues to navigate a maze of political nonsense. The country, still without a president or Parliament for ages, is sinking a little deeper every day into the shifting sands of instability, under the gaze of the international community, both helpless and complicit.
The international community remains skeptical
Thus, the Haitian political circus continues, with new clowns, a few less acrobats, and a public less and less amused by a spectacle which has lost its brilliance, but never its absurdity. THE presidential transition councilwith its nine presidents for a fragmented territory, seems less a government than a parody, where the hope of change becomes the final gag of a tragic farce played again and again.
This ludicrous context is underlined by the remarks of international observers who, despite their optimistic speeches, seem to struggle to mask their skepticism regarding the viability of this new formation. As if, failing to be able to positively influence the course of things, the world was content to greet each new chapter of this saga with a resignation tinged with cynicism.
Democracy under threat
In the streets, far from secure conference rooms and formatted speeches, the reality of Haiti is lived to the rhythm exchanges of fire and shattered lives. Citizens, caught between the hammer of gangs and the anvil of an impotent government, express a mixture of despair and indifference in the face of this new political turning point. “It’s just a change of faces, not politics,” murmurs a fatalistic street vendor.
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Meanwhile, the logistical and financial challenges of holding credible elections seem almost insurmountable in a country where security cannot be guaranteed for either voters or candidates. This raises a bitter question: can we really speak of democracy when voting is a life-threatening act?
Despite everything, Haiti continues to survive, oscillating between fleeting hopes and bitter disillusionment, a land where the resilience of the people is as remarkable as the tragedy is profound. And as the transition council takes its feet, the world watches, awaiting the next act of this political dramaturgy, secretly hoping that this time, against all odds, the curtain will rise on a scene of renewal rather than another tableau of desolation.