Hope for Haiti?

Haiti, if I may be so bold, is a lost cause. Some people just haven’t realized it yet.

Despite it currently being quite fashionable I must dissent and say Haiti will likely never, ever get better. I don’t say this simply to be contrarian – I like agreeing with people. I don’t say it because I dislike the Haitian people – I have no strong feelings for them either way. And I certainly don’t say it because I eschew foreign aid – indeed it’s because I so strongly believe in the benefit of foreign aid that I raise the issue. Were international charity and giving a bottomless trough of endless resources, sure, I would say, give to Haiti. They are not, however, and every dollar, euro, or yen spent somewhere is another pound, krone, or ruble not spent somewhere else. In this sense Haiti is more than just a lost cause; it is a black hole of limited resources. 

To begin, Haiti’s neighbor: the Dominican Republic. It is poor, underdeveloped, undereducated, underappreciated, and lives with much the same historical legacy of colonialism and corruption that Haiti does. In fact those with more than an American sense of geography will even note they share the same island in the same spot in the middle of the Caribbean. Yet despite their similar weaknesses over the past few decades they’ve both gone in dramatically different directions and now consequentially enjoy dramatically different presents. No one talks about saving the Dominican Republic. 

Back to Haiti. Since our actions in the present should be guided at least in part by prospects for the future let us focus on Haiti’s current chances for sustainability. A nation’s economy is not the only indicator or even the best indicator of wellbeing, of course, but an economy – any economy – is an essential part of its foundation for wellbeing. Without some semblance of substantive commerce health, education, development, and consequently happiness are all retarded. In light of this the developing world’s major economic advantage over the developed world, and what will largely allow the developing world to save itself, is its possession of a large, cheap, manual labor force with limited regulation. From this perspective Haiti has got it good. Situated close to the US, the most consumeryist consumer nation on the planet, they arguably have most the third world competitive advantages. Looking closer, however, the advantages are only skin deep for were you to want to do business in Haiti you’d run into some obstacles. To do business in Haiti you’d have to import your raw materials to a port and road system in disrepair using gasoline often in short supply to enable a largely illiterate workforce speaking a language spoken nowhere else using an unreliable electrical supply, an unclean water supply, and an undeveloped healthcare infrastructure to make a product that will be grossly overpriced and once again need shipment via broken roads and inefficient ports to countries that can likely buy the same goods elsewhere cheaper all while negotiating what is considered one of the most corrupt and least law abiding states in the world. And the Dominican Republic’s just right across the border. The end result? It ain’t cheap to do business in Haiti. The cost for us of a “decent” hotel room? $100. The cost of a 4 hour drive between towns? $150 not counting gas. The cost of a meal of goat and plantains and coke? $15. Why then would anyone want to do business with Haiti? How then can Haiti ever be free?

Back to the Dominican Republic. Developing nations have other strengths, however: agriculture, tourism, a tenacious population to name a few. With regards to the DR: yes, yes, yes. With regards to Haiti...? Unfortunately deforestation, soil erosion, and general mismanagement have led to a greater harvest of seasonal mudslides than any appreciable agricultural export. Unfortunately expressionless stares and a foreign tongue in a post-apocalyptic wasteland no matter how tropical don’t do much for tourists when manufactured smiles and a familiar language are right next door. And unfortunately the prevalent brain drain combined with one of the highest birth rates in the Western hemisphere guarantee only an ever increasing population with fewer and fewer capable leaders. Western aid makes up almost two-thirds of the national budget and a large percentage of the economy. This is not sustainable, and when the spigots run dry what will happen? When the population increases but the number of jobs and total arable land remains stagnant what will take place? When another populist election funded entirely by donation comes to pass, who will lead?

I think the most striking aspect of Haiti which makes me give up hope is the thoroughness of its poverty. I have been to a number of poor countries: Mexico, Honduras, the Dominican Republic, India and in all of these places there has been the poor, but there has also been, however small, an upper class and, more importantly, a middle class. There has also been a spectrum of poverty such that there was always the sense that there was at least something better that could potentially be obtained. In Haiti, however, outside the private gated communities of the affluent elite there is only a homogeneous lack. The only class seems to be the lower class. There is undoubtedly some difference between the very poor and the super poor, but it is a difference that if anything only heightens the sense of despair.

Immediately after leaving Haiti I flew to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, where I stayed at the Marriot Harbor Beach Resort and Spa to attend a medical conference. It was as big a contrast of wealth and poverty as you can get made all the more striking by the fact that a number of the workers and staff there were Haitian. I attended meetings in overly air conditioned banquet halls, lounged along overly manicured poolsides, and ate and drank more calories than I could ever need to burn. Only a few hundred miles away I had been sweating, working, and living in a whole other world. Perhaps in light of all this excess and wealth any money sent to Haiti, even if used inefficiently or wasted, is worth it. Perhaps when we’re spending thousands on luxury it’s missing the point to argue about the few dollars misspent alleviating poverty. I don’t know, but until Haiti shows promise or my robot heart shows softening I’ll be sending my box tops elsewhere. Polio anyone?

 

Crippling need aside, here’re photos!

* In case it were not automatically readily clear, these are my opinions and my opinions alone. I don’t know how my travelling companions feel about Haiti. I never asked them. I suppose they’d have nice things to say.

Reformation and Restoration in Hispaniola

A few months back I found myself in the back of a small, white commercial van bouncing along the dusty roads of an equally small, rural Dominican village. In the van, crammed inside with me, were a number of military physicians, nurses, optometrists and other medical personnel sharing space and either passing out for a brief disorienting nap or discussing whatever it is suited our interests at the particular moment. And this particular moment it was Mormonism.

Now those who know me know there's little I love to talk about more than Mormonism.* Nothing gets me more excited than the Book of Mormon. Between all the talk about Nephites, Lamanites, golden plates, seer stones, potions, elves, and orcs; I get pretty psyched. And I was never more excited than when they finally made it all into a movie trilogy starring Rudy Ruettiger. I wasn’t the one who did the talking this time, though, as we had with us on this particular ride our very own gang of Mormon missionaries. Or is it a pod? A pod of Mormon missionaries? Gaggle? Herd? A murder? In whichever case the Mormons -- there were about 6 or 7 of 'em -- had been working with us on and off for the previous few days in our attempts to convert the entire country into a liberal democracy under our Lord and Savior Joseph Smith. They helped fill our significant Spanish translator gap and served as essentially our only Creole translators early on. They were not officially assigned to work with us, and their attendance was rather random, but their assistance was invaluable.

This particular conversation started with my relatively innocuous question of why they all wore white button up shirts and ties. (Answer: something to do with them being elders?) This was then followed by my slightly less innocent question of what the next step after elder was, and exactly how many points it took to level up. After that the fire had been set and the rest of the back of the van took over in what would be a 45 minute debate as to whether or not Mormonism was the One, True™ Religion. The details of the discussion are largely unimportant as it was mostly a disjointed, random exchange of accusations, defenses, and barely comprehensible apologetics as these conversations often become in the setting of large group discussion, but what did interest me was the oft-repeated claim that what separated Mormonism from other religions and other brands of Christianity in general was that its foundation was not a “reformation” of sorts – i.e. something decided upon and brought about my man – but rather a unique “restoration” which was God breathed and Heavenly led. Man was not rebuking and reforming man, but God Himself was intervening to restore the true religion to the planet. Its history then, whether true or not, was what separated it from other heresies and was what served as testament to its ultimate veracity. It was a claim I have heard made by many religions now, and a claim which, by and large, I think is bunk. Whatever you want to call it, reformation or restoration, the processes which brought about a good number of today’s modern religions were largely the same.

Luther, prior to taking the first steps towards what would eventually be Lutheranism and the start of Protestantism as a whole, was only brought to take that step by a divine vow to God during a terrible thunderstorm. Calvin, before his embracing of the six points, was only led away from Catholicism and into his reformist zeal by a personal conversion experience of his own. Even though neither of these “reformers” invested into their religions stories about sunglasses and mass transatlantic migrations to South America, each felt he was nevertheless led by God to “restore” Christianity to its rightful, original state. And truly no religious sect can be said to be more in touch with the Divine than the Charismatics who regularly commune with Him through the gifts of tongues and prophesy, and who in their birth at the turn of the last century felt their changes were not some academically inspired changing of the rules but a glorious return to Christianity’s ancient roots. And if survival of belief despite wackiness of back story is the key to a true restoration? Truly no Christian branch can beat the Seventh Day Adventists who have at their very foundation a failed guess at apocalypse by their theological head William Miller in 1844. And if authenticity is verified by an inability to compose wackiness on one’s own, then no Christian denomination has got anything on the Prophet Muhammad (peace and virgins be upon him) who was thought by many to be completely illiterate and yet received and recorded God’s word through Gabriel. From a proper vantage point it is indeed not the restorative nature of Mormonism which distinguishes itself from all other religions, but it is what in fact unites it with all others. No preacher or prophet since the passing of BC to AD has claimed to invent a religion. They have all claimed to simply be bringing man back to what God had always wanted for him: the One, True™ Religion.

Mormon doctrine aside, what surprised me most from my interactions with the gang of Mormons wasn’t their beliefs, but their disposition. Given another time, another place, and another twist of faith they would no longer be Mormon missionaries but Evangelical missionaries. Nearly everything about them save their pointdexter shirts and ties reminded me of the dutiful, young Christian missionary fresh from his church youth group, ready to passionately share his faith, and with only a superficial familiarity of the depth and nature of the world’s great number of faiths. Despite their stuttering and stumbling, despite the fragmented sometimes circular nature of their arguments, and despite the flashes of confusion that periodically shadowed their faces they continued to debate and share as if by earnestness and eagerness they could make up for what they didn’t understand. They were being the salt of the Earth, a city on a hill, the lights of the world -- only in a world with a slightly different God who just so happened to have a thing for polygamy. Although I’d like to think I was a slightly smarter and handsomer version of them back in the day the nature and character of my belief was likely very much the same.

With that car ride as the backdrop for my religious disposition during the trip, my religious experience in the Dominican was not over. On the next to last day, the evening before our flight back to the States we went to the beach on the northern coast of the island. Good times were had by all, too good a time was had by many. After fighting to get back on the exact same buses we rode in on, we then slowly convoyed back to the FOB a noisy mess of relatively inebriated gringos. While many slept, a sizable portion decided a late evening drive home was the perfect time to tell random jokes for an hour straight all of which, from what I can tell, were terrifically funny. Having laughed as much as I could that day already I put on some head phones, turned on some Eve 6, and had some time to myself. And I never felt more alone. Not in the lonely sense -- I had a good friend sitting across from me in the seat adjacent, passed out -- but in the cosmic, existential, you are alone in the universe sense. It has been in my best estimation for a number of years now that there is no god, but it was only now that as much as such a thought can be felt I felt it. Thinking of the trip and the various parties that had taken part in it: the Mormon missionaries who valiantly strove to shape the world into God’s great image; the Haitian patients numbed by tragedy, poverty, and sometimes a bit of the dullards; the Dominican patients from all walks of life, with all sorts of expectations, who all for whatever reasons generally didn’t like the Haitians; the young Dominican translators who generously helped translate for us when they weren’t too busy flirting amongst themselves; the forward operating base’s officer corps who were primarily concerned with the strict implementation of rules and successful project implementation or enjoyment of the experience secondarily; the residents who were assigned to the MEDRETE and who were indifferent to its outcomes; the residents who volunteered for the job and who were disillusioned, excited, or bewildered with its progress; the multitude of family, friends, and strangers back home and the world over going about their lives, focused solely on their lives, and familiar only with their own perspectives; and the notion of an all powerful god underwriting the whole story seemed to me just a little silly. I don’t use run on sentences loosely -- in two weeks I had met and interacted with a seemingly numberless sum of people of different backgrounds, upbringings, world views, and nowhere did I see any grand purpose underwriting any of their lives. There was no unifying theme or central plot, just a thousand unconnected story lines. God’s invisible hand in life is often stated to be that of a great weaver forever working on the most intricate, beautiful, and complex of tapestries that is our world. We, seeing only one side of it, the side of its construction with its loose and extraneous threads and colors, often do not appreciate any sense or design in it. But God, seeing the finished side with every string in place and every image in full detail, knowing the pattern and purpose behind His every stroke, fully appreciates the plan He has for every one of us. I acknowledge my view is limited in life, but I feel I got the biggest glimpse yet of the tapestry, even if the reversed side, and still all I see is threads.

This is not meant to be a polemic against religion. The variability in world views and life courses does not prove anything about god. The seeming lack of purpose proves nothing more than that we are perhaps not meant to know. All I know is that during that ride back to base with all the commotion of the preceding twelve days sloshing around in my mind I’d never less felt a need for there to be a god in the world and I’d never less seen evidence of one in life. And though that may sound like a despairing thing to say, for me it is not. It was a moment of clarity. A brief moment of serenity. I was comfortable because it made sense even if it wasn’t the Truth everyone hopes for. When we got back to the barracks and as I sweated up to my sweaty room I was grateful for the Mormons and all their Mormonism. Their efforts may have not paid the dividends they had wanted, but I definitely feel as if I had profited from the experience. It’s just a shame I couldn’t join their club. I hear there ain’t no Heaven like Mormon Heaven.

*Wait, that’s Mormonism? I thought that was Pokemon? Isn’t Mormonism a card game? Pokemon versus the Latter Day Saints?

The Best Trip Ever (And A Few Lies)

There's a saying that goes something like, "if you can't say something nice, then just suggest it through thinly veiled generalities." It is very similar to the popular and oft quoted, "turn the other cheek so as to begin your roundhouse kick." It's the moral high ground in our current crazy, mixed up, passive-aggressive, and duplicitous world today. And I am nothing if not moral. Assuming "moral" is a synonym for either "male" or "Caucasian."

As such I have nothing but good things to say about my recent MEDRETE trip with the Army to the Dominican Republic to deliver health care to the those less fortunate. The thick blanket of rules provided at the Foward Operating Base (FOB) gave me a snug sense of security while the daily ration of Meals Ready to Eat (MREs) gave both my jaw a rest and my colon a work out. The feverish pace at which we saw patients taught me how to diagnose a whole array of diseases and medical conditions based on the slightest amount of information -- even if I didn't understand a word they were saying! And the contraband sniffing dog at the Health and Wellness formation? Man, that was one cute dog.

It wasn't all sunshine and unicorns, though. They did make us go to the beach the last day, and take this ridiculous picture.


The smiles were forced. Truthfully, I spent most my time thinking about chow.











Some pictures. Hopefully there'll be more later if the official photo sergeant ever gets back to us with all the photos she took.

To The DR With You

This past year I have tried in vein to leave the country. First I was to go research in Thailand but Thailand exploded. Then I was to go research somewhere else, but our program leader exploded. Scheduling conflicts boxed me out of the USAF humanitarian relief mission to Haiti and the scourge of residency scheduling somehow excluded me from the ICU rotation in Landstuhl, Germany. I was going nowhere and nowhere fast. Which, as far as residency goes, isn't that bad. I'd rather spend my days in San Antonio quickly than the other way around.

But a bright new day has dawned! A late breaking opportunity for a second USAF humanitarian mission in the spring arose recently and I said, "Hey, USAF medical mission, take me fool!" To which the USAF medical mission graciously obliged. I will now be going to the Dominican Republic in April to do... well I am not entirely sure what. Relieve things. Humanitarian things. Medical things. You know, heady stuff. The details are scarce in that I know no details, but it will undoubtedly be an experience. Opportunities like this are a major reason why I joined the military and I look forward to my first trip. Hopefully this time no one brings the cholera.*

*Bonus DR pesos to whoever guesses the current events reference!