"A Cage of Words", Joel Dreyfuss

I call it “the Phrase” and it comes up almost every time Haiti is mentioned in the news: the Poorest Nation in the Western Hemisphere. These seven words represent a classic example of something absolutely true and absolutely meaningless at the same time.

On a recent trip to Haiti, I asked a young journalist working for an international news organization why the Phrase always appeared in her stories. “Even when I don’t put it in,” she confided, “the editors add it to the story.”

The Phrase is a box, a metaphorical prison. If Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, the fact is supposed to place everything in context. Why we have such suicidal politics. Why we have such selfish politicians. Why we suffer so much misery. Why our people brave death on the high seas to wash up on the shores of Florida […] The Phrase became an easy out for reporters confronting the complexities they could barely begin to plumb. What a difference it would have made if American, or French, or British journalists had looked through the camera at their audience and declared, “Yes, this is a poor country, but like Ireland or Portugal, it has also produced great art. […] Yes, many of Haiti’s most downtrodden, like the Jews in America or the Palestinians in the Middle East, have fled and achieved more success in exile than they ever would at home.” Such statements would have linked Haiti to the rest of the world. They would have made it seem less mysterious, less unsolvable, less exotic. But then, that really wasn’t the purpose of most reporting about Haiti over the last few years. Keeping the veil over the island was easier than trying to understand its factions and divisions and mistrust and history. And it gave America an out if the intervention failed. So foreign journalists fell back on the Phrase. It was shorthand. It was neat. And it told the world nothing about Haiti that it didn’t already know.